Technology

It took me about 7 years and advancements in technology to find this song. But now it's found and will never be lost again.



More later...

My TV is bigger than yours

On Monday I had to undergo the much dreaded dental procedure--a root canal. I've survived 6 days of constant pain, a swollen face, and one ridiculously sensitive tooth; not to mention frustratingly meager eating abilities. And for someone who's main food vice is a bag of Tim's chips, this week has been absolute hell. When you factor in my extremely low pain threshold, coupled with the fact that I'm prone to whining, you can imagine how bad its been (for me and everyone around me).
But I decided to make things better. Not through medicine or a positive outlook on life. Nay. Instead, I decided to ease my pain with purchasing power. Yesterday, I drove up to the Starbuck's of electronics, Circuit City. Actually, Best Buy is probably the biggest electronics super store prostitute, but I digress. Long story short, I bought a nice, new 42" Samsung Plasma TV. Not on a whim, my young naysayers. This purchase has a history. Let me take you back to Black Friday, 2007. My friend, Ben (the one I often slaughter in RBI baseball) and I were willing participants in the stupidest post-Thanksgiving tradition ever invented--shopping. Let me preface this by saying I was fully aware of the need to arrive as early as possible--my friend Ben was not. He mistakenly theorized that the crowds would be gone by mid-day and that we'd have no problem finding the TV I wanted. Needless to say, by the time we got there, the TV I'd envisioned in my living room was sold out. I had been ready to make a $1300 commitment, but the TV of my dreams was gone. I was crushed.

Which brings me back to yesterday. Ultimately, I need to thank my friend Ben. Because of his shopping ineptitude, I was able to get an even better TV for about $400 less. Also, thanks to Ben, I can now gloat that "My TV is bigger than yours". Ah, gluttony. My tooth feels better already.

Next stop--Fashion Week

Just in case you blinked and missed my online debut in to the modeling world--here's one link to get you caught up:

http://www.blackbirdtees.com/store/talk-
shirty-to-me-73/cherry-octopie-211.html

Of course, the magic doesn't stop there. My scruffy mug is featured several times within the site. But don't take my word for it, make your way over to my girlfriend's newly launched website, Blackbirdtees.com, and check me out--don't forget to look at all the awesome t-shirts too! And if you have $25 left over from your stimulus payment, treat yourself to some new attire. Hey, it's the summer now. Time to get some color in your life. Yeah, I'm talking to you Seattle-ites. I see you in your khakis and your safari greens; not to mention your tevas and muted blue REI button-up. Spice it up a bit. Shake up your circle of friends. Show them you know cool. You live cool. You ARE cool.

I miss my beard

After 4 years of overwhelmingly awesome facial hirsuteness, I've decided to nix the beard. I'm joining the flocks of white people--all of whom seem to be sporting rather lackluster goatees. At first glance, my new look my seem somewhat pedestrian as well. However, when you factor in the atypical side burn length and overall exacting precision and angular acuteness of said goatee--well my friends, you've discovered a formidable facial hair opponent.

Oh yeah, did I mention my hair is about a foot shorter too? My stellar goatee and sideburns may have entranced most of you unprepared observers. Hopefully though, you won't miss what has to be the best professional haircut I've ever received. For that I have to thank Joie over at Rudy's Barbershop on Greenwood Ave. She not only made me the increasingly confident, ever so good-looking, badass man that I am--she gave me a damn fine haircut too. I recommend hitting her up--especially if you're used to describing yourself as a caveman...or Jesus. She's got magic in them fingers, I kid you not.

I'm obviously enjoying my new look--seems like others are too. It would be great if I could forever elicit looks of surprise and sheer glee from all who admired my new do. Sadly, this new look will probably only buy me about another 2 or 3 weeks of admiration. After the initial shock and amazement has worn off, people will go back to remembering what my face looks like and how my hair spikes up when it's short. But surprisingly, the praise will return.

It often takes months for people to spot changes. But then again, changes don't usually occur in the form of lopping off one's locks or taking a razor to one's scruffy face. They're more likely to surface in less visible ways (or in the case of hair--about .44 millimeters/day). Given these circumstances, it's a little easier to excuse people for not noticing something that you feel is different, new, or special. By that rationale, it's probably just as easy to excuse someone for not giving you a compliment about it too.

I think we all sometimes privately yearn for this kind of attention. No one really seems to admit it, but hell, it feels great when someone pays you a compliment. In recent years, I've tried to be a positive person. Of course I've slipped every now and then, but in general, I think I've done a pretty good job. This new look has made me think a lot. I think everyone needs to experiment with new things--ideas, jobs, looks, friends. Sometimes those changes can be even smaller than you think--and maybe even easier.

Haircut Countdown...and "10000 B.C."

I've decided that June 20th will be the day my gorgeous, spiraling lady locks will meet their demise. Yes folks, it's time. In September of '06 I vowed to not cut my hair until nipple contact was reached. It looks like my vow will be honored; for in a few months, my nipples will start to see black rain from above. No longer will the comparisons to Jesus Christ (the Superstar) be abound. On a side note, riddle me this--if Jesus would have lived until age 87, what year would he have died? Answers must be given in A.D. form.

This of course brings us to the upcoming "10000 B.C." flick/travesty. I will inevitably be dragged to this movie, kicking and screaming--not unlike a caveman being trounced by a really lame, computer-generated woolly mammoth...or saber-toothed tiger. Take your pick. Either way, it'll be like yawning your way through an unwatchable ice-aged Star Wars prequel--only, this movie will be the prequel to all other horrible, special effects-driven disasters directed by Jerry Bruckheimer. Although, the question must be asked. What would Jerry B. have done with the Star Wars prequels? Or better still, what would Jesus have done?

RBI Baseball Masacre

I need a new challenger. My friend, Ben, is no longer a threat to my RBI Baseball supremacy. I've now won the last 20 of 25 games (or something ridiculous like that). Whether it's lame teams like Minnesota or Houston, I still get the job done. During our last round I pitched 3 1-hit gems and clobbered a total of 15 home runs (maybe even more--it's hard to remember). Ben needs to practice. He needs to learn the art of hitting to the opposite field, stealing a base, and bringing home that all important 8th inning go-ahead run. He needs to go down to RBI 2 and learn the basics. When he's mastered these skills, only then will he be ready for the bigs.

Colman, Dykstr, and Strwby will be awaiting his return.

Worst Crime Ever

Hey, ass head...quit spitting on my car! This is now the 6th time in 2 months. Why are you targeting me? What have I done to deserve disgusting drool oozing down my driver's side window? Every time I park in front of the Kort Haus Bar this happens. It's either the same drunk face head (that's right...face head) or a member of the Greenwood loony brigade. I'm actually leaning towards the latter, and here's why. One night, as I drove up 67th, a man with a beard (not unlike mine) and a crazy glare in his eyes, spit directly in front of my vehicle. It wasn't a "Gross, I just swallowed a bug" spit--there was intent behind his saliva missile. What makes a man spit at a vehicle? I really don't know.

Here's what I do know. I'm willing to invest at least $100 to install a camera in my car to catch this mystery spitter. Is this excessive? Am I taking this too far? I think not. I will catch you Spit Man. My car has been across these great United States far too many times--it certainly does not deserve your vile germs splattered across its window. You will pay Spit Man, you will pay...