Whistle While You Work

It's not exactly Tiny Tim cavorting through a verdant field of lush, vibrant colors and flora, but it's better'n nuffin', as they say in Ye Olde Western films.

First and foremost, of course, there's the piling-on syndrome inherent with work; some offices are quiet with inactivity and a lack of need. This one, however, is not; we've got plenty to do on any given day and the hits just keep on coming. Sure, I could complain that I've got 12 hours of work to address each day and after I've put in six or so hours in the office and another two downtown (if not more than two) and than an additional hour or so at home reviewing my work and subsequently falling asleep at the keyboard, I'm still not quite all caught up. It's a Catch-22. But I'd much prefer having the problem of having too much to do than the problem of having too little. Then again, check back in a few weeks during my next filing deadline and I might espouse a slightly different opinion.

But I digress.

At the heart of the issue is the PC. I've been using the same Dell XPS desktop for a few years now -- October of 2004, actually -- and my machine is almost "fully crapped out." For those of you unfamiliar with PC lingo, that's the technical term for "dying a slow death." Others include DOA, shitting the bed, doing the silicon nap, the semi-conductor cheese-squeeze -- the list goes on and on but the bottom line is I've milked as much out of the work PC as I'm going to. I don't mind the fact my home PC is faster, more efficient or better at doing everything I do during my waking hours; the problem is that the work PC needs a variety of key upgrades that would wind up costing more than the machine is worth, so we're relegating it to "server" duty. What that means is that, for the second time in about three months, I'm going to have to prep from scratch a new machine (we ordered a Lenovo ThinkPad as its replacement) and demote my current desktop to scan/print duty. Like a racehorse past its prime, it's no longer fit for rigorous daily use but still can sire a scan job or print job every now'n then...

What's interesting is that I configured the new machine Monday night with Windows XP Pro and then Tuesday morning, when we went to buy the machine, we were told that Windows XP Pro is no longer for sale. Apparently, Microsoft decided to stop selling Windows XP as of June 1st (which we knew when it was announced a few months ago) but apparently May 20th is synonymous with June 1st. I'm not sure why this problem cropped up or why Microsoft is going with a shitty operating system (Vista) over a solid, mature, reliable one that is compatible with everything I've thrown at it, including third-party and proprietary 'ware, but the short and long is it's going to take a shitload of effort (not to mention the worry factor) to get the situation resolved. It turns out everything will be fine -- there's, much like a strip club, a back-door solution, but it's still a serious pain in the ass. Thanks, Microsoft.

On top of that, we've got a new load of annual data coming in sometime next week. Since Monday is Memorial Day, that means the new machine -- which is being built as we speak -- will be delayed a day. And, thereafter, that means the new machine will probably arrive after the new data load is set and scheduled to be uploaded to our server. Which means -- if you're still following -- our consultant will have visited our office, uploaded the data and left for greener pastures well before Mr. UPS makes me sign for the box from Lenovo.

Yet another pain in the ass.

Now, granted, that's not the end of the world. It's just that since we're a small office, we make every effort to minimize the external distractions and delays inherent in the daily workday. So having our consultant swing by for the data delivery -- which is crucial, of course -- would have been ideally timed to coordinate with the arrival of the new machine. But since Lenovo isn't a quick mover, the new machine -- in theory -- won't ship until June 10th. By my calculations, June 10th is about three weeks away. The new data -- about one week away. You don't need one o' them-thar fancy abacus devices to know that means two visits.

Oh well.

Meanwhile, as the workload flows onto and off of my desk, things are otherwise fairly peachy. I've got a few major happenings this summer and I'm trying to plan around them; for the most part, everything is going according to plan. But the silver lining/dark cloud thing can rear its ugly head at any given moment, so even though we ordered the new PC, it's going to be a few weeks until it arrives; as with any other plans, Murphy's Law definitely applies. So all the busy-ness coming at us like a bullet train in a Tokyo suicide-infested suburb might very well derail some of my plans for the summer. Alas, things out of my control are just that: out of my control.

Of course, Kaia's impending move to NYC is rolling along, and she'll be here in a week or ten days to continue scoping out the rapidly inflated housing market. I'm not sure what she'll end up choosing -- location-wise or configuration-wise -- but I'm guessing it will be something near my place and something akin to a one-bedroom. Questions remain about what we'll do with her car and when the move date will actually be, but for the most part, we're rolling with it in good faith and the excitement builds.

And if nothing else, it's a journey, not a destination; hopefully this rest stop along life's highway is just the first in our new chapter.

And if I can squeeze in a few more overbearing cliches, I'll be sure and let you know.

Meanwhile, hope everyone has a happy Memorial Day without work, aggravation or bullshit. At the very least, one out of three ain't bad.

-B-

So Much To Say...

Well, despite the fact that it's been nearly a week since my last visit, I can honestly admit that I don't feel bad in not getting back here sooner. So much has been happening -- even more than usual -- that I haven't had time to feel guilty for being an absentee landlord of sorts.

First, everything over the past week or so culminated yesterday with Mother's Day. I managed to get everything together -- goodies, a nice arrangement of flowers for my mama, cards, a charged digicam -- and spread the love. It's always nice spending time with my family, but making sure I got all my ducks in a row this year -- and being able to do so -- was really great. We went to brunch in the mid-afternoon and got to spend time with my grandmother and my uncle, and we had a wonderful time. More importantly, both my mom and my grandmother had a wonderful time, which was/is the point. And since there was no baseball, no football, no basketball and no (Rangers) hockey to distract me, I had as much fun as (hopefully) did they.

Second, Verizon Wireless finally released a new Blackberry right as my plan was due for review and re-up. Since we're all locked into a big family/office plan, the dollars were due to increase since the Blackberry pricing got beefed up over the past month or two, so they basically told me "Get a new phone or you'll be paying another $50 per month." Thanks, Verizon. So I got my paws on the new
Blackberry Curve.

Those who know me know I'm a bit of a technophile (just a tad), so the fact that I waited more than two years -- you read that right -- to upgrade to the new 'Berry says a lot. What says more is that I was and continue to be seriously impressed by this new Curve. Despite the fact that, sure, the Curve was available to AT&T people a year ago; but the thing is, Verizon's wireless network here in NYC is so much better that I wasn't willing to consider having our lines switched over. The short version: since we have four lines, switching over would be a one-time, somewhat monumental task. It'd have to be the kind of thing where we were having serious problems with our phones, and the truth is that the price plan I managed to get us hooked into is fair, we rarely -- if ever -- have phone issues (unless, like with my dad, we forget to charge the phones), and everything works well. So switching just to get better, nicer, newer phones didn't seem to make much sense. Why go for something new and shiny if old reliable still works better than anything that follows it? So, I scored a Curve. And the nice thing is because of the timeframe, they dropped the price for me another $100, so I got the phone for next to nothing, a week before they were officially released, and the switch to the new device was painless.

Ahhhhh.

What wasn't painless, of course, was my ISP decided to crap out for a day or two so my download speed was slower than most modems from the 80's. There was some sort of problem -- line problem, server problem, uplink problem -- that wound up with my connection losing data (official term: packet loss), but a techie showed up late Friday with some cool tools and solved the problem. On top of that, he saw some of the games I had on the shelf by my PC and we talked geek for a few, so he hooked me up with some bitchin' sites vis-a-vis anti-spyware and some great utilities as well. Given I just installed the new Berry and am syncing it nightly with my home PC to keep everything up to date, I was and am pretty jazzed.

Speaking of hom and work PC's, my work PC's starting to take its final walk to PC heaven. Things are slowing to a crawl and the machine creaks when I'm running Word and Excel along with a couple browser windows, which basically is constantly, so it's likely I'm going to be needing a replacement. I've gotten a variety of suggestions, but it's likely I'm going to get a notebook -- either a Lenovo or a high-end Dell -- and since I've had a notebook in the past, plus lots of experience using Kaia's -- I'm curious if having a notebook for work will be doable. I'll end up plugging in a keyboard, a mouse and my monitor at work so odds are it won't be a big deal, and it will definitely run faster than my machine does currently, but I'm not sure if a notebook is the right move, and if it is, I'm sort of overwhelmed by the variety of what's out there. I actually considered building my own machine for the office -- a desktop, natch -- but I'm not sure if having my entire office-based productivity hinging on something I assembled is really the right way to go. True, I'll be familiar with every single thing inside the box, but if anything goes wrong, I'll be crapping myself instead of calling Dell, Lenovo or the local/long-distance PC tech people with whom I consort on- and offline.

Finally...Kaia's hitting NYC in early June to continue her apartment search and to hang out for awhile. I'm guessing her swing here will be a couple weeks, and hopefully that will be enough time for her to find a place and leave some of her stuff behind to bring by cab rather than prep for the movers.

Nothing much else exciting to report; we're still on track to hit Mexico for a friend's wedding in August, July's going to be a hot n' busy month -- specially if Kaia's moving here therein -- and the road is open and the tank is filled with $3/gallon gas.

I'm outtie.

-B-

This Is Too Cool for School...and the USPS (And Other Stuff)

Tired of waiting on the USPS website to update itself to show shipping progress? Want to keep track of someone without their knowing?

This lets you slip a credit-card-sized tracker in, on or in close proximity to someone. Sure, it's designed to be dropped along with other items -- cash, papers, discs, whatever -- in an envelope. But drop this sucker in someone's glove box or on the floor of their back seat and you'll have instant location on 'em 24-7. So for you stalker types, and you know who you are, knock yourself out.

Incidentally, in honorable mention, this is a keeper. It's a one-shot news story about Amy Winehouse, but hot-damn is it worth a click.

And finally, this should be required reading for any and every guy out there without an older brother. Had I had the opportunity to peruse this site, I would have avoided three miserable years with the ex. Had I taken said missed opportunity prior to meeting her, I would have noted she was a member of seven of the listed categories and I would have been off faster than a Puerto Rican prom dress. C'est la vie.

By the way, the site to which that link leads is titled, simply, "Women To Avoid II" and will be perma-linked at the right to insure others glean the wisdom contained therein.

Good night, and good luck.

Halfway There

Aside from the fact that the sun isn't quite out as of yet, I expect today, Friday, will be a nice day. It's the end of a long, difficult week -- yet another -- and despite the fact Kaia's back in SF and I'm back in NYC, I'm looking forward to the weekend.

It's strange coming home to an empty apartment; more importantly, I wouldn't mind coming home to an empty apartment if I knew she was elsewhere nearby. Knowing she's not within a subway, bus or cab ride's distance is the really shitty part of the whole equation. But given the near future's plans for this summer, knowing this temporary situation is about to change -- for the better, and permanently -- is worth our patience.

In the meantime, I've got shitloads to do since I missed a couple days this week due to the holiday, so I'll probably be buried in paper this weekend. Considering it's supposed to be rainy and bleak, I doubt very much I'll miss running around with my other half. It will definitely be strange not having her around to make me laugh or to make laugh, and even when it's crappy and rainy outside she always manages to make me smile no matter what, so whether it's rainy or beautiful out, not having her there will make the weather sort of inconsequential.

There isn't much news beyond that to address; we've been attempting to settle back into our "normal" routines -- or irregular ones, if you're keeping score -- and both of us have been trying to get sleep and back on the clock vis-a-vis work and life. The problem is that since we're an integral part of one another's lives, that re-emergence is difficult, to say the least. It's a bit like the lyrics from Peter Gabriel's "Washing Of The Water." The song, which comes from his album "Us," is a confession about his break-up with Roseanna Arquette. While we're not broken up, every time she and I part company for a matter of weeks or months, we both sense that same sort of loss inherent in a long absence, which in many ways mirrors a break-up. Of course we don't have the same sense of emotional loss that break-ups incur, but not having your best friend there with you after having her there every minute of every day is jarring and an experience I'm glad to say will soon be coming to an end.

My apologies for today's dark, less-than-uplifting observations; for the most part, it's easy for me to look beyond the half-emptiness of the glass and see it as half-full. And this situation, despite the immediacy thereof, is actually a "half-full" one. However, as of the short term and how we each feel, that glass is half-empty for sure and we both are looking forward to when it's not just half-full but spilling over.

Cloverfield on DVD : Spoilers Ahead...

So after all the hype, speculation and hush-hush viral marketing, what's there to discuss? Despite the proclivity of some to obtain vid-camera-captured copies of theater showings of movies and upload them to the masses online, after months of Kaia and I both salivating over the opportunity to see Cloverfield on one of our televisions, we finally were able to obtain a advance copy of the actual DVD. While there were some slight negatives, the truth is that, given the tense times in which we live -- especially those of us who live in New York City -- the film was absolutely a keeper.

Set in "modern day" New York, the film begins by establishing that what's being shown on the screen is actually the video recording found in the area formerly known as Central Park. Since a lot of what the film is about has been leaked, it's clearly an ominous beginning to a roller-coaster ride.

The video commences with a couple, Rob and Beth, filming one another in various states: her naked in bed after, presumably, a night of intimacy, and then the couple discussing their planned venture to Coney Island.

The next -- immediate -- cut is to some friends doing some shopping for a bunch of people coming by that night for a farewell party for the aforementioned Rob. Turns out Rob has gotten a job as Vice President -- a mighty achievement, if the revelers are to be believed -- and he's off the next day to Japan.

Suddenly we are at his farewell party where 40 or so people are gathered to send him off via a surprise good luck party, and after a bit, a huge noise and a thud interrupts the festivities. Looking through the eyes of the camera, it seems like something has hit a building nearby and created some sort of major explosion somewhere a bit further downtown. As the partygoers ascend the roof to get a closer look, more explosions begin rocking the downtown area and panic ensues. Soon after, as the entire crowd hits the stairs to get to the street, the explosions continue -- as one guest asks in the background if this is a terrorist attack -- and then the real chaos begins. People running everywhere, screams and overall panic grip the entire city as seen through the single lens, and the attack continues, only now, at street level, it is clear that something huge -- 30 or more stories high -- is actually decimating the city, block by block. The creature -- which resembles a giant bat on steroids atop bulging legs -- is causing destruction and attracting the attention of the military, who are firing at it with everything short of nuclear weapons. The destruction ramps up and the intensity does as well, to the point that much of the remainder of the second act is spent with the protagonists on the run to avoid the huge creature and human-size offspring that it seems to emit.

Without giving away any further details, the film isn't a true horror film in the "Halloween" mold. There isn't much sit-and-wait suspense; there's no let-up in the intensity or the attacks. The protagonists find themselves in a subway station (underground, at Spring Street) and attempt to make their way north after the Brooklyn Bridge is destroyed. Thereafter, they're attacked by the miniature offspring of the giant creature. As they attempt to escape the City and the chaos, one by one they are picked off by the circumstances by which they have found themselves in.

This film might very well represent a true picture of post-9/11 horror; much of the panic and the destruction is reminiscent of that day in our recent history. If one was to really reach for comparison, the giant creature and its offspring might have some sort of direct correlation to our modern history with respect to extremist Muslim terrorism. But more likely this film represents a unique perspective on what feels extremely real, if only because it depicts characters that react and find futility in a situation that mirror how we might react and that we, if we were in their shoes, would find ourselves in.

Granted, there's been no monster attack chewing up and destroying the entire city; there is no impromptu military HQ or full medical triage center on the main floor of Bloomingdale's at 59th Street; and for certain, Central Park is known as Central Park and not Cloverfield. However, given a healthy dose of suspension of disbelief, this movie goes from rollicking, entertaining scare to an intense, disturbing episode in one possible future.

Incidentally, one of the reasons we waited to see this film via legit DVD was because we wanted to enjoy the experience and the breadth of special effects featured therein. The CGI and the creativity of JJ Abrams, Screenwriter Drew Goddard and Director Matt Reeves are nothing short of amazing. Due to the creative nature of the "one camera" storytelling, there are some creative twists and omissions that let your imagination fill in the details. However, the CGI depicting the creature and its offspring is riveting, and the city-wide destruction is incredibly detailed and absolutely realistic. Moreover, what we see and hear on screen is so over-the-top it's hard to not be pulled into the action as if we're experiencing the events depicted in the film rather than simply watching them on a screen.

I would recommend, incidentally, anyone interested in watching this film do so in a completely dark environment with no interruptions and with the sound as loud as it will (comfortably) go. The immersive, all-encompassing of this film deserves and demands it. More importantly, when watching this film, disconnect your phone and don't plan on stopping the ride until the director decides it's time for you to get off. You'll be glad you obeyed.

No question this film is as much a phenomenon as it is an 84-minute motion picture. However, if you view it without judgment or preconceived notions about the marketing and the hype, this is one film you may not love but one film you will not soon forget. It's a solid 8.5 or 9 out of 10, whether or not "horror" or "sci-fi" are your kind of films. It's easily one of the best movies I've seen over the past 18 months, and that's definitely saying something...

For those planning to get the film on DVD, note that in addition to a slew of extras -- a director's commentary, deleted scenes, some outtakes and 2 (!) alternate endings -- the fact is that the behind-the-scenes look at how the movie was created (eg CGI, sets, etc.) are as fascinating as the movie is captivating.

And knowing the creature is nicknamed "Clover" by the film's crew and that the area "formerly known as Central Park" is where the camera is eventually located suggests that Central Park was re-christened Cloverfield.

Told you there were spoilers ahead... ;-)

Enjoy...

Don Henley Was Right...

"The more I know, the less I understand."

Those words, proferred by Don Henley in his pathos-heavy "End of The Innocence" album, definitely apply these days. However, his use thereof concerned, if memory serves, divorce and love in the song "The Last Worthless Evening." For me, these words apply to the increasing stupidity of America as a nation, and, in tandem, my inability to believe we manage great strides in achieving new degrees of stupidity each day. And thereafter, the two paths diverge; in fact, contrary to Mr. Henley's last worthless evening, mine would be watching The Jerry Springer Show sandwiched by two Montel Williams shows, all of which focus on sex-change children born from interracial marriages. That wouldn't simply be worthless; that would be enough to inspire me to throw myself from a tall, tall building.

Several items formed the impetus for my observation regarding our increased stupidity; the first was this, a story about a Randolph College field trip. Randolph College is located in Lynchburg, Virginia; the class, entitled "American Consumption," observes various facets of American culture and then, subject by subject, observes each facet by taking a field trip. This particular field trip, however, brought the students to the Chicken Ranch.

For those not in the know, the Chicken Ranch isn't a food establishment -- it's a whorehouse.

I'm not exactly sure how, if I was a parent of a student on the trip, I'd react; however, unless Randolph College is a free educational experience, I'd be seriously pissed. I have no moral opposition to prostitution per se. It's legal in Nevada, so even if some of the students wanted a very up-close-and-personal look at some of the employees of the Chicken Ranch, so be it. But I'd gravely question why I was sending my child to a school that would encourage students to take a peek behind the curtain. In other words, are we actually going to start encouraging the youth of society to consider stripping and/or legalized prostitution as viable sources of income? I recall a story in which a Florida high-school guidance counselor was fired because he encouraged women in a soon-to-be graduating class several years ago to consider stripping, and that incredible lapse in judgement was nothing compared to an administration official okaying a trip to see hookers. If my son or daughter was dumb enough to be enrolled at Randolph College, I think I'd tell people he or she was actually clinically retarded and was a refuse collector in Wichita rather than admit he or she was attending a college that sent students to a whorehouse. I would lie about where he or she was going to school not to protect his or her self-esteem, but (sic) my reputation.

Again, to reiterate, I have nothing against the ho's ;-) It just seems like this is another example of our culture slowly but surely inching closer to Idiocracy. It's one thing to hear about one adult's dumb decision when it comes to a bunch of kids; it's another when institutions of higher learning seemingly are managed, if one can call it that, by a bunch of shitheads.

Next up on the Asshat agenda is a story of unrequited love, loyalty, sadness, and music...it's the story of a Spanish taxi driver by the name of Jordi Bassas Puigdollers. Mr. Puigdollers -- Pug for short -- is a life-long, obsessive Debbie Gibson fan. Not only has he started up a Debbie Gibson fan club, he's traveled all over the place to see her concerts, attended her personal appearances, and has recently followed her to her hotels and visited her home. So it's, of course, no surprise that Ms. Gibson, aka Washed-Up-No-Talent-Hack, filed a restraining order against Pug. What's even more interesting is that he's been barred from being within 100 yards of her, except at concerts.

First of all, how much money is this guy making as a cab-driver to be able to follow Debbie Gibson all over the country? Second, if she was able to get a restraining order, why is this shitbird still permitted to attend her concerts? Third, if you were going to throw your life away stalking someone, wouldn't you try and stalk someone that was a) attractive; b) talented; c) worth stalking; and d) not lame? If you're a loser and opt to head to the US to stalk someone, don't follow Pug's example; make it someone interesting. Some good choices are Carmen Electra (duh), Stephen Hawking (it's not like he's going to be able to run away and hide behind the gates of his mansion) or James Caan (it worked for Kathy Bates).

Personally, if I were Ms. Gibson (aka Washed-Up-No-Talent-Hack), I'd be thrilled someone actually gave a shit that I was still alive and not doing dinner-theater in Lincoln, Nebraska. Granted, I'm not being entirely fair to Ms. Gibson; I'm sure she's a nice person and doesn't deserve to be called a Washed-Up-No-Talent-Hack. However, um -- she's washed up, she doesn't have any more talent than those six-year-old beauty pageant contestants (think Jon Benet Ramsey, only alive) and she's being stalked by someone who might very well possess more talent than she does. But it's creepy -- who wants to be stalked by a taxi driver halfway around the world named Puigdollers? To me, that sounds like something you find growing on your undercarriage, if you know what I mean. Plus, every time I think "obsessed taxi driver," I think DeNiro in the mohawk putting bullets into anything moving -- Harvey Keitel, etc. -- and John Hinckley Junior (and that whole Jodie Foster/Ronald Reagan thing). Now I'm sure Pug didn't stop to think of the company he's keeping, but short of Jeffrey Dahmer, are those names -- Travis Bickle and John Hinckly Jr. -- the kind of people you would aspire to be among? No, unless your name is Pug and you think Debbie Gibson is worth stalking.

In short, stupid people stalking worthless former celebrities says a lot about where we're headed as a culture, if not at the very least where we are. Yikes.

However, if we really want to understand just how fucked up and moronic we've become as a nation, we need look no further than Commerce City, Colorado, the home of Joseph Manzanares. Congratulations are in order for Mr. Manzanares and his girlfriend, who -- four years ago -- had a child (Editor's Note: Mr. Manzanares is currently 19 years old, which would make him 15 at the time he fathered his -- presumably -- first child. Lovely). Unfortunately, Mr. Manzanares and his girlfriend disagree on one very important topic: the gang in which the child will be raised.

Apparently, Mr. Manzanares is a member of a gang called the "Westside Ballers" and his girlfriend is a member of the Crips (Does anyone else sense an imminent "West Side Story" fanfare about to break out?).

Beyond the main problem, ie that these clearly moronic individuals successfully procreated, what makes it even worse is that Mr. Manzanares got so irritated about his child's eventual gang choice that he confronted his girlfriend -- at her job at Hollywood Video -- and threatened her. So he was sentenced to a year of probation for the threats (as well as knocking over some movie posters and a computer).

One can only hope that, years from now, the happy couple will likely be celebrating their lives together at the tender of age of 42 as great grandparents and will recall how silly they behaved in their youth as they fought over the Crips, the Bloods, the Westside Ballers and the LA Kings. And then they'll go out for a rumble on the West Siyeeeeed in the SPC and they'll both, sadly, be killed in the skirmish with the cops.

Nothing beats a storybook ending, except maybe a good Jerry Springer Show brawl as the credits roll.

This should be a lesson to us: two people whose combined IQ's are below 100 should not be permitted to procreate. If the Supreme Court says it's okay to execute people who are clinically mentally disabled, why should those who are marginal idiots be allowed on the streets? If the statement "Smart people have smart children" is true, it would follow that empty-headed half-wits from the middle of nowhere are going to breed kids that're dumber than rocks.

And we wonder why they're tearing down libraries to build overcrowded prisons.

The more I know, the less I understand.

Abso-fuckin'-lutely.