Happy Halloween
Today there were guns and other funs in the suns. Tonight, we made this for your pleasure:
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Bidet, sir. I SAID BIDET!
I am at the Googleplex for three days with the Gallery group to hack out a completely new version of Gallery. After drinking a huge cup of coffee and a small cup of tea, I found myself suddenly in need of a restroom visit. I don’t know if you know this, but the Google bathrooms have heated seats, and sprays of warm water for your bottom. I thought that this would be the height of luxury, but, uh, no. That was actually kind of… icky.
Now With More Fishtank!
I finally replaced the aquarium that I left behind in Minnesota with a new one. Observe:
About Pitbulls
When you refer to “lipstick” in the context of a canine, doesn’t it usually refer to the dog’s penis as it extends from the prepuce? I’m just saying that “Pitbull with lipstick” seems to me to mean “a dog with an erect wang.”
An observation
Sarah Palin puts the “L” in “pain”. Listening to her “debate” makes my skin crawl.
Taking a survey
Is there a name that we did not provide but you feel would better describe an all-inclusive product that would allow you do everything you need with photos, videos, DVD burning and DVD playback?
Corel Photo and Video Suite
Corel Photo and Video Albums
Corel Whoosits and Whatsits
Corel Digital Media Manager
Corel Family Albums : “Your photos and videos all in one place!”
Corel Big Brother : “Watching you”
Corel Media Gallery
Corel Media Bucket
Corel Stuff Bucket
Corel Chum Bucket
Corel Sharks! Sharks! Oh God! WHY ARE WE BEING EATEN?
Corel LOLCatsmaker
Corel Digital Media Business
Corel Digital Media Life
Corel Digital Media Death
Corel Digital Mediator “OM NOM NOM GIMME”
Corel Digital Mediaplex
Corel Digital Drive-in
Corel Stag Films in the Basement
Corel Pics and Vids Suite
Corel iLife
Corel DigiLife
Corel Medio!
Corel Free Brainstorming
Corel I should probably do some work. Work work work. Worky worky work. Workity workity bing bang boo, I’m gonna work a bit for you. First I work, then I poo, workity work, workity work, work on you!
Uh
The Big Show
I went back to Minnesota last weekend for the opening of my joint show with Paul Armstrong: un/dead. It was pretty awesome. Sarah busted her ass to do all the things that I should have done were I there. Paul busted ass to get more than his half of the show done. Really, I just showed up, hung some of my stuff, and drank a couple of beers. No big deal.
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Road Trip Day Three (and four): Yellowstone! (and Nevada)
I awoke in Cody, Wyoming and asked some locals if my intended route to the north end of Yellowstone would be scenic and fun to drive. The hotel clerk responded in the affirmative, noting that he would sometimes drive the route just for a fun drive. I set out on 120, skipped onto 296, which climbed and fell to ludicrous extent before meeting 212, which would carry me through Cooke City (where I had a hot dog, met a fellow Minnesota expatriate, and mailed several post cards.
Here’s the view from Dead Indian Pass, which is a ways into 296.
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Santa Cruz
Jay is in town for ZendCon, but on Sunday we had nothing to do. I suggested taking the long way to Santa Cruz, forgetting that he had been sitting all day. An hour and a half of white knuckle mountain roads later, we were at the beach. I really have to thank Jay for going with and patiently gripping the “oh shit” handle without complaint while I tried to drive us off of cliff after cliff.
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Nothing but static
I was listening to local station 89.7 KFJC and thinking about the midnight scenery strolling past my car windows. Hangar 1 at Moffett Field grew and shrank as a shadow. I had just dropped off Jay at his hotel — I’m just freshly Californian and already I’m the host. How long, I mused, until the things around me lose their newness, and my eyes relax their fervent attempts to catalog everything they perceive? Sign. Tree. Exit. Building. Sign. Tree. The radio was playing some out there hip hop based sound collages, and I wondered if I could call in and request Doomtree. I have the CD. I could just listen, but what if, I pondered, I could drag a little bit of my hometown out for someone else?
I turned on to Rengstorff and crested the overpass. “The Wren,” by Doomtree, came on the air. I got home. Engine off.
The car cooled and ticked arrhythmically, but I couldn’t hear over the song fading to a hissing hush.