So, I’ve been sick now since around December 10th. First I had influenza A for a week, then it festered and by Xmas day I was coughing up blood and mucus so much I went to urgent care where I was diagnosed with bronchitis and given an antibiotics series, which really helped. Unfortunately, as soon as I was getting better from that I came down with a bad head cold. My sinuses and throat are so blocked that I haven’t tasted anything since January 3rd. I’ve never experienced anything like this- any flavor of any food or drink is muted by more than 90%- only extremely sweet or salty things make a slight tinge of taste at this point. At this point I think I have bronchitis again- I’ve been having coughing fits and coughing up dark mucus every morning for that last week straight.
I’m pretty goddamned motherfucking sick of being fucking sick at this point, and I just wish I was healthy. Fucking day care filled with diseased kids sending thousands of sicknesses home this year. Goddamn.
Dubuque was great! Well, not so great as the last time, but a good time was had by all. We also saw CAL and he even played craps with us!
From the top? Ok.
Wwhazz, Lawman and I raced out of town Friday afternoon with a gleam in our eye and the rising feevah. Oh, we played it cool; we sauntered into The Canfield Hotel and answered all questions asked: where we were from, how we were doing, if we knew not to park next to the hotel because they like to keep that lot open for the karaoke patrons, if we had ID, if I knew what kind of name ‘Moneypenny’ was, if we had any singers in our group, if I would retrieve the front desk worker to watch when I returned from dinner and sang, how many people we had with us, when were they arriving, which room did we want, if we wanted this in one credit card transaction or two, and so on and so forth.
Once we were safely ensconced in 227 we unpacked a bit and decorated. On one wall, a 1992-1993 Milwaukee Bucks poster. On the refrigerator, Will Purdue’s size 27 shoe. And IN the fridge? Oh, look closely to your right and you’ll see the treasures buried there.
Soon we were out and about, headed towards Mystique Casino- which is really hands-down the greatest casino in Dubuque. Whatever little Internet cred I have I would like to cash in now in order to say: Mystique equals GREAT and Diamond Jo’s equals DUMP.
The watchword of the weekend: see-saw. Sally saw seashells by the seashore, and then she watched me dump five bills two hours before a triumphant six fold score. Sally, WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY ANYTHING~! I only had two non-craps experiences this time: I won $80 playing roulette and the next day I got straight-up mugged by a blackjack dealer for like a hundo in five minutes. Sad, really, that they had to resort to such skullduggery.
The high(low)light of the trip was when we went to Diamond Jo’s and got treated like scum by their ever-dour team of meanmugging dealers and boxmen. No jokes from that crew and lots of being yelled at for the smallest of infractions. Example: I had been betting $1 Any bets off and on, but pretty consistently. At one point I decided late to bet and reached for my chips. I fumbled grabbing a white chip but, being just at Stick Right I said aloud “dollar any” while the dice were in the air and tossed the chip onto the table before the dice landed. The boxman yelled “NO BET THAT’S NO BET” and then sternly lectured me on when bets could and couldn’t be made. Look, FUCK YOU Diamond Jo’s craps pit; I have booked verbal DOLLAR-FUCKING-ANY bets from Ho-Chunk to Vegas and back. It’s an 11.11% house edge and it’s a 7-to-1 payout on ONE FUCKING DOLLAR. And you’re going to call my bet off and, even worse, give me grief over it? When I’m betting hardways for your dealers all night? How about you just eat shit and die?
At the far opposite end of the scale from the terrible, rude service at Diamond Jo’s Casino was the once-again stellar time we enjoyed at Mystique Casino. The craps crew working over the weekend was in large part the same folks we had a great time with last December. Really fun crew all around, and even though we only roll through once or twice a year we were even remembered by some of the people. We had a few good rolls, a few great rolls, and a few not-so-great rolls, but we had a fun-as-hell time there.
It may be heresy, but the idea that we stay at Mystique instead of the Canfield was even discussed. May not go anywhere, but that’s how much we hate Diamond Jo’s now. Don’t go there; it is terrible.
Anyway, lah-dee-dah and all that- we headed out rather early Sunday morning to get back to Madison for a joint-baby shower-slash-Packer-game. Packers won handily, which was great, because I wasn’t in the greatest head space after a weekend of fooling around in Dubuque.
Ugh, well, we got the news that Braun was roiding (or whatever, dude was drinking some kind of Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde potion) as we sat at the bar in Champagne, eating steaks and listening to wwhazz bitch about being made small of by the host at the entrance. All of our cells started buzzing incessantly as Cubs fans from all over the country poured on the scorn. Whatever, jerks, soon you’ll have Prince Fielder and you can cackle all the way to another mid-division finish in 2012.
I returned home to find that the Brewers had signed Aramis Ramirez to a 3-year deal, and just this morning the Crew traded MAGUHAHEEEEEEEE to the Pirates for a pitcher. I’m worried about Tony Plush, but I have FAITH~! that the Great Mustache will make the right decision and extend his contract.
I cracked my rib cartilage on Tuesday. My current shambling, zombie-like nature consists of two strained rotator cuffs and one cracked rib-ish injury; not bad for a 32 year old!
I was doing a workout at the onsite gym on Tuesday evening out here in California and at the lowest point of a leg press I actually heard a sound come from my rib cage. Tie a piece of twine to a piece of plywood. Stretch it reeeeal tight and the pluck the string away from the wood and snap it: that’s the sound I heard come from my rib cage. Then everything hurt real bad.
My immediate thoughts were: hernia. My thoughts the next morning as I woke up to intense pain were: oblique abdominal strain/tear. My thoughts this morning: holy fuck my entire right side is searing pain… broken rib?
My instinct was to hold my side, WWE-wrestler style, and limp back to Wisconsin to get medical care, but after I called my doctor to make an appointment for next week they were alarmed that I would fly without getting checked out. “Go to a hospital immediately,” they said. “No,” I replied. “Yes, go,” they adamantly responded. So I went.
The verdict: I have cracked my rib cartilage (the part that attaches my abdominal muscles to my rib cage). Painful, four week rest from most activity, and I got Vicodin.
And yes, in five days it’s the One Year Anniversary of my lung exploding on a business trip. INFINITE SIGH.
There you go; I’ve freed myself from the tyranny of Facebook. I used this method, and from the number of concerned “why aren’t you on facebook?” emails I’ve received from family members I think it’s been successful.
Yeah yeah, I should have never signed up for the privacy lunacy in the first place but it wasn’t the privacy or advertising issues that irked me, in the end. It was that I didn’t care about what 90% of the lunatics I was ‘friends’ with were saying, day to day. Most everyone I know is aware of whazzmaster and if they really want to see what’s up with me they can come here or send me an email. Pretty much the only person i know that was easier to contact via FB than via email/whazzmaster is Arlo.
I must admit that wwhazz’s nightmare scenario of his unborn childrens’ faces plastered (unwillingly) all over the online universe honestly filled me with a deep-seated, primal revulsion. I don’t dislike the ‘plaster your kids faces all over the internet’ subculture for the stupid ‘your kids will be kidnapped by child-rapers’ arguments. Instead it pisses me off because you’re establishing a durable (both in time and space) identity for your kid before they have the agency to decide for themselves what kind of online presence they’d like. I’ve basically fucked any chance I ever have for meaningful contributions to society because of this site; I wouldn’t force such things on my kids.
It always annoys me the way that the national media freaks right the fuck out when a blizzard hits the northeast. As if the rest of the country never gets snow, we have to sit through days (of newspaper stories) and hours (of TV reports) hearing about how OMFG WHERE ARE THE PLOWWWWWWWWWWWS?!Also: fuck those pussy NFL officials. Since when can’t you play football in the snow? Dumb. RIGGED.
We’re going up to Door County this weekend for the Lawman/Peapods Wedding Extravadanza- I predict a good time will be had by all. Thursday Night: ping-pong tourney-slash-dinner-at-Donny’s Glidden Lodge. Friday Night: WEDDDDDDDING! Saturday Night: Rose Bowl! Sunday Afternoon: PACKERS! Really an action-packed weekend of fun and excitement in the Northern Door.
What’d you get for Xmas? Cal? A law degree? Maybe next year, pal, you gotta be on the NICE list to get what you want. Scientist? South African Beard Oil? Your beard is large. Did you see what I did there? Wwhazz? Air hockey paddles? I received a very nice overnight bag from my wife. And clothes. And a headlamp. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!
We’re approaching zero hour on 2009 and I couldn’t shrug my shoulders harder if I goddamn tried. Work is busy and I’m attempting to purchase trinkets for everyone I know by next week. Me and spacebee and belly and wwhazz ate at Pedros-Pedros-may-keen-mayx-ee-can the other night after a night of shopping. It was a grand ol’ time, especially that deep-fried Snickers bar for dessert.
Not much goings-on elsewhere so I’d like to frankly discuss the 1964 classic Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Thusly: it’s not entirely clear to me just what drugs the creators were using, but I salute them and their efforts. In a story ostensibly about the titular reindeer the spotlight instead falls upon (a) an elf desperately seeking a career in dentistry and (b) a north woodsman with a revolver hanging from his belt that clearly has mental problems. It seems to me that the writers wanted to craft a different story entirely but were forced by the General Electric corporation to adapt their lunacy into a framework descended primarily from a one minute Christmas tune. I don’t know whether the coercion took the form of ducats or whippings– the result is the same. Also: everyone really hated that fucking Rudolph. They just shit on him and shit on him until he saved the goddamn day. He should have pooped in Santa’s mouth.
For those not on the spacebook, my concise review of How the Grinch Stole Christmas:
Zachery Moneypennyfeels that the grinch was right to hate those whos- did you see the lunatic instruments they endlessly played?! How bout this: I’ll buy your downstairs neighbor a musical abomination consisting of a bowling ball, a huge metal pipe, and CHIMES and we’ll see if a steampunk xray machine detects any heart shrinkage on YOU.
I have nothing else to say about that shit. Let’s all get together some Thursday night and watch star trek dvds. I have one season on dvd (five, I think?) and can provide whiskey.
Everyone else out there: HAVE A GODDAMNED MERRY XMAS!
I really, really hate Corona beer commercials. Fuck that asshole who skips his Blackberry into the water like a stone, or that bitch who squirts a lime into her husband’s face because he looked at another woman. All it does is convince me that only assholes would want to drink your shit beer while they sit on a beach. In conclusion: fuck Corona.
So I’ve been reading a variety of books on the Kindle for about a day now. I’m sure I’ll have more opinions, but this is pretty much the 24 hour first impressions: it’s pretty good, with one really annoying ‘feature’ and one kind of annoying aspect.
The great thing is that the e-ink that they tout as having the same reading experience as real paper is really great. I read out on the balcony this morning in the sunlight and it was easy as pie– no glare problems whatsoever. The online store (accessible from the device as well as from a web browser) is pretty good as well, with lots of free classic books. I got McTeague, Heart of Darkness, and Darwin’s On the Origin of Species for free so far. I also got The Death of WCW for $9, which I’m kind of using as my test book.
The one really annoying thing about the Kindle is the ‘feature’ that it shares with the iPhone: if you tilt it sideways it will go from portait to landscape mode. The problem: if I’m sitting or lying down and reading, I may tilt the unit in such a way as it switches when I don’t want it to. It’s really annoying, and I had to hunt around to find out how to the turn the feature off. The iPhone does the same thing, and I don’t like it there either.
The kind-of annoying aspect is that, (I think) due to the way the e-ink display works, when you turn the page the whole screen goes dark, and when it fades away it leaves the content on the next page. It’s an odd visual tick that distracts when you’re reading.
Finally, the book management on the device is pretty poor. You just get a straight-up list of all the books on the Kindle; no ability to sort them into directories, tag them, or anything else. You can sort the (eventually) giant list by author or title. I’m hoping in the future to be able to define folders or something to be able to do my own custom sorting.
Overall: I love reading on the thing, it’s only a bit of the organization of the content outside of the context of the book itself that I have some beef with. I’d recommend it to people who want to be able to take lots of books various places. I got the DX, which has a 9″ screen. The original Kindle has a smaller screen, but I hear it’s also much lighter, which would be a plus.
Revisiting the iPhone
In doing some research for this article, I went back in time and re-read this post from July 2007, where I rehashed something Scientist said in comments about why he would never get an iPhone. I declared that I had no interest in getting an iPhone (which had been released just a few prior) mostly since I felt that “I own a laptop and a desktop computer (not counting my work laptop), and there really isn’t a good reason to buy a phone that does the exact same shit.” Well, later that year I ending up buying an iPhone when I was working on the Quicken for the iPhone project, and I haven’t really looked back since. I actually really like it these days, but I gotta admit that the 3G version is about ten thousand times better than the Edge. Also, the App Store opened up a whole new realm, and my favorite current video game is actually on the iPhone even though I would have laughed at you if you suggested that one year ago. Summary: I really like the iPhone today, and a lot of the concerns I had back then turned out not to be a problem.
I am on a page that shows all of the players in the pool. How do I make my pick? Here are my choices from the home page:
Hmm, perhaps I’ll choose “Group Picks”, as I am in a group and I want to make a goddamned pick.
Really? There’s no way for me to make my selection here? Really?! In desperation, I will click on my name at the top. It’s blue; it seems to be a link of some kind.
Well, now I see my picks but there is no clearly marked way to create a new one. “Edit”? Are you fucking kidding me? That’s how I’m supposed to make my pick? Look assholes, the entire goddamned point of your dumbfuck site is so people can pick a football team every week. Without that feature, you have no reason to exist. Your solution is apparently to bury that key feature under a thousand layers of obfuscated horseshit links and terminology. I can only surmise that either:
The developers and product managers of this piece of shit have never played any kind of fantasy football in their lives (actually a strong guess, since this work has most likely been farmed to some contractor in India), or…
Yahoo actually doesn’t want to be in this business and they want to actively make people quit using their fantasy football tools.
I can’t think of another reason at the moment. Scientist: didn’t you code up a survival league website back in the early aughts? Put that shit back online.
Today’s science lesson: the Wildcat Formation. I’ll be shamelessly using Wikipedia as my primary source for this paper; it’s the baddest source I ever saw (like Michael Jackson’s Bad or George Thorogood’s Bad to the Bone, not bad bad.)
The Wildcat Formation is a “variation on the single-wing formation,” used in high school and college football for years but currently showing well in the NFL as well. It is heralded most directly by a direct snap to the running back.
One reason that the formation is so effective is that
the rushing play is 11-on-11 (although different variations have the running back hand off or throw the football). In a standard football formation, when the quarterback stands watching, the offense operates 10-on-11 basis. The motion also presents the defense with an immediate threat to the outside that it must respect no matter what the offense decides to do with the football.
The Miami Dolphins have had considerable success using the Wildcat, and even teams that don’t run it themselves admit that they have to spend extra time preparing the defensive plan to counter.
Now onto other news… this piece of goddamned fucking nonsense has officially replaced Daniel Hinkel (he bought me a drink at the Karaoke Kid; not a bad fellow) in the pantheon of Stupid Shit Written for a College Newspaper (2009 Edition). So in the interest of being added to yet another Enemies List somewhere in a Langdon St. efficiency, I give you Motherfucking (I Am Not Kidding) Erin Kay Van Pay:
According to Dr. Michael Farken of California’s Santa Barbara Regional Psychiatric Hospital, “Peen-Face” is a temporary physical condition that comes to fruition upon photographing a subject without their knowledge. It has serious consequences for the reputation of the victim. Peen-Face occurs when the subject’s mouth is open so far wide and in such a manner that it appears that a “peen” has either just been inside the cavity or is about to penetrate it. As the number of pic and run incidents increases, the number of Peen-Face cases increase s proportionally. Victims are typically in the background of the photograph talking, eating or playing beer pong. Lewd comments almost always follow the posting of pictures that contain this ailment.
Texas A&M freshman Sam D., 18, was shocked to find that moments after his buddy tagged a picture of him at a house party in which he had moderate Peen-Face, seven comments from three friends were posted accusing Sam of homosexuality. “My friends now think I’m gay. I was on the phone when [the picture] was taken… with my girlfriend.” Adds Sam, “Peen-Face has ruined my relationship and my life.”
Daily Cardinal: if that is supposed to be an attempt at humor, then you have failed spectacularly. You now have XPAC Heat. I hate writing GET-OFF-MY-LAWN opinions about college idiots, but when you write something so spectacularly stupid that it will probably used as a punchline in the next Funny/Stupid/Epic/Action Movie in the franchise (punctuated by someone’s dick getting exposed/hit/falling off or a fart that blow dries someone’s hair/smells/causes an explosion) it stimulates my Old Man Ganglia and I start shaking my fist at no one in particular. Stop. Just stop. Please.