Lousy Weekend
Rain rain rain
I skipped Summerfest on Thursday and Friday night because of frequent thunderstorms. I did go Saturday night, only to experience chilly weather and another of my on-going epiphanies about my rapidly fading youth.
Everyone there was so young. I didn't see an eligible female in my age group all night. Although, I'm sure they were there, I didn't notice any.
I did see Little Richard, so now I can say, "yeah, ...I saw Little Richard perform" on some future date when he is gone and no one will ever see him again. He was good, actually. Funny. I remarked at how appreciative I was that he never went through a career mid-life crisis where he tried to remake himself by releasing a bunch of awful songs in whatever style of pop music that was popular at the time. To my knowledge, there aren't any Little Richard disco albums, 80's style dance pop, 90's style eco-pop. Thank the Lord that we did not have to sit through half a set of that garbage, he played nothing but the classics. The hits. The standards. Exactly what we wanted to see.
But man, ...did I get into a funk Saturday night that lasted until late Sunday evening. I was irritated, bitter, and "down" in general. It was strange. I almost felt like I was in a hole and didn't know how to get out. It felt like I might be down there forever. Even as I was talking to friends, I was faking it. I thought that maybe if I went along and acted happy like I always do, the feeling would fade, but it didn't.
I had worked all day, not gotten enough done, was tired, ...it was about 6pm and I had a choice. Go home, or play tennis with my friend. We were supposed to play at 3:30, then 5, ...so it looked like it wasn't going to happen. But we were both free, so I said, sure, let's play.
Maybe it was just being in the sun, getting some exercise, getting the blood pumping, ...but I started to feel better on the way home. The pit-like feeling hung with me for awhile, ...but within 45 minutes of calling it a night at the courts, it started to fade. I felt good. I slowly got better from there and now I feel completely "normal".
This has been happening to me every now and then since last autumn. I wonder what the problem is. I don't like feeling fragile. I've always been rather proud of my ability to handle stress, depressing events, hardship, ...I've always been in control. I don't feel out of control, but I feel "weaker" some times.
Me no like.
Jenkins comes through again
Playing better than he ever has before, Jeff Jenkins won the game for the Brewers with a late inning homerun for the second day in a row.
I won't say I'm excited or optimistic about the Brewers, ...but I will say that I am "newly re-interested".
I had season tickets in 2001. Went to 20 games. Loved the first half of the season where they ended up 3 out of first, but I hated the second half of the season where they started off losing 21 of 23 games.
2002 was a wasted year. Heads should have rolled in 2001, but Wendy Selig was dense. She didn't "get it". We (meaning the fans and citizens of Milwaukee) were promised a competitive team if only:
We supported the team with ticket sales
Paid for and built a new stadium
We accomplished these things, and it was no small task. It took a lot of effort, argument, heart break, tragedy, and time to get it done. But we did it. We passed the resolutions, paid the bill, watched it grow, fall, and grow again. We packed the stadium most nights, cheered them even in defeat, ...and what did we get in response?
A slap in the face. Poor effort. Poorer execution. No accountability. No leadership. No reason for hope.
There was nothing we could do, but walk away. And we did.
I attended 1 game last year and the tickets were free (my roommates company seats).
They got the message. Heads rolled.
Still, I and everyone else in the city was pessimistic. The season started with out too many people noticing. Sure, we saw the ads promoting the fact that the new players are going to try harder, that they actually want to be here, that the team will give a greater effort, ...but we were a little sour on marketing campaigns (with good reason).
Now, halfway through the season, they are still 31-45. They're not really lighting things up, ...but anyone who has seen more than a few games can say this ...the team is more interesting to watch. Exciting, even. They don't give up. They play hard. Occasionally they will play really good ball. People are starting to talk about them. Friends who abandoned ship long before I did are taking notice.
It will be a slow process. But, if they can keep this up, ...they have a chance to turn things around. They can win back the fans. I now believe it can happen.
And another thing, ...I'm going to pick up some tickets this weekend.
Me in a Maori Meeting Hut
From my Chicago trip a few weeks back.
Summerfest
For those of you in the Wisconsin-Illinois-Indiana region,
Summerfest begins tomorrow. To the uninitiated, Summerfest is the largest music festival in the world.
It's held over 11 days on the shores of Lake Michigan and brings in just over 100,000 people per day. For about $10 you can see as much music as you can handle. You couldn't see all of it if you tried.
What makes it really special is that it is on a permanent fairgrounds. No muddy grass, gravel, or dirt (although it does have lots of green space), the mile long fairgrounds are paved and modern and easy to navigate. Every ethnicity and culture is culinarily (is that a word?) represented. And don't forget the beer. This is Milwaukee, ...beer is king.
As I get older, I get less and less excited about it. It really is meant for the young and single. I am old and single, which means I feel obligated to go and "make an effort".
This year I'm most looking forward to Wilco. Fortunately they're based in Chicago, which means they play Summerfest about every other year. Also on my agenda is Ben Folds Five, LL Cool J, Alkaline Trio, Toby Keith (why not?), Santana, Tom Petty, Foo Fighters, Little Richard, Blues Traveler, Buddy Guy, India.Arie, ...ok, I give up. There's more, but I'll never be able to see all of these bands.
Bottoms up!
Hot Hot Heat
Anyone remember the band Red Red Meat?
I missed them once. I had tickets to see Liz Phair (indie-rock girl o' my dreams) in Madison in the 1993-4 era. Red Red Meat opened, but nearly the entire crowd (90% men, obviously) stayed in the lobby drinking beer until Liz started.
The remains of Red Red Meat became Califone, one of the best bands alive and relevant today.
Anyway, it's sooper hot today, 93+, high humidity. I feel sorry for poor Jude (my shaggy, black German shepherd). Here I am in an air conditioned office, listening to the Brewers shock the Cubs 12-6 in Wrigley, and she is probably having a hard time in my non-air conditioned flat. We'll share a beer later.
Another piece of the puzzle
Sometimes information comes in to hq that is interesting in that it was previously unknown, but it doesn't really change anything. I feel this way about all the Nixon crap. Every now and then they will unearth something about the Nixon presidency and all the 60's era reporters and editors will get huge budgies about reporting that Nixon swore in the oval office, or made an insensitive off-hand comment, or something equally as boring. Who cares? He's dead. We know what he did. He admitted it. We caught him. It's not interesting anymore. The only piece of the puzzle that is still interesting is "who is deep throat". We'll find out some day. Until then ...
Anyway, last week I got some info about T, the 95 pound earthquake of woman that spun my life around like a bad perm. Several months after T and I ceased aknowledging each other in public, a friend of mine got a job working under T. I had never discussed T with this person, and didn't feel like starting now. T was finished with me and probably wanted to forget I existed. I, wanting to save the hypothetical remains of my dignity and pride, generally stayed away from her and never discussed her outside of my closest friends. I didn't want any gossip getting back to her that would suggest I still gave a sh**.
Also, the way it ended was a little precarious. You see, I was the "other" man. We kept it a secret for a time, but then she confessed to her guy. He made her agree never to see or speak to me again. She agreed, but contined to see and speak and hang out with me. She even spent the night in my arms (a place she frequently found herself) and spent most nights on the phone with me until 5am. I often wondered when she made time for her "serious" boyfriend since work, friends, and myself seemed to take up 23 hours of her day.
Anyway, since we were often together, it would only be a matter of time before the guy found out about us and he did. She denied it, but a mutual friend (more loyal to the guy than to me or her) spilled the beans. In fact, he was so upset that I would pursue a female who already had a boyfriend (my thoughts on that another day) that he invented a story about how T and I were sleeping together. This was actually technically true, in that we fell asleep with one another often. But there never was anything resembling sex. Hand holding, embracing, kisses on the cheek, ...nothing else. This is the story that made her boyfriend freak out. She had to cut it off with me. At this point I think she would have "looked bad" if she would have left him for me. It would be like aknowledging she did something wrong (btw, she denied everything to him, denied ever coming to my house, seeing me, calling me, etc). So, she chose to stay with him.
The rest of the story will be written someday (see side panel), but this is where we flash ahead to last week.
That friend of mine who got a job working under T. In her interview (mind you, this is 6-7 months after we stopped talking), T physically pulls her aside and says "I'm not sure what you've heard, but there's some rumors that **** and I slept together and that's bullsh**. I just wanted you to know that."
So, apparently the rumors are still floating around, ...long after what was there was dead. I wonder if she mentioned this because she suspects me of starting the rumor in order to break up her relationship? She probably does. In fact, I'm sure her little speach to my friend is one she's often delivered. She wants to keep up the front that she has been maligned, she has been wronged, and that all the blame resides with me. I actually wish that were true (in a way), but it isn't.
None of this changes anything, but it is interesting.
To me.
Today's Fortune
"You are contemplating some action which will bring credit upon you."
Yeah, well, who isn't?
And now, happy news
So North Korea is threatening Japan with Nukes, Iran refuses to give up their nuke program, and Hamas still thinks Powell is a stooge for the Jews, ...how about some happy news?
Township vs Beaver
Beavers win.
Jordan and the Bucks
Just to be on record.
I do not want Michael Jordan to purchase the Milwaukee Bucks.
He was possibly the greatest basketball player ever, and one of the worlds greatest atheletes of all time. But I never thought he was very smart, and I do not think he will make a good owner. I think he will want to be involved in all sorts of decisions that are best left to people with experience and talent in running an organization and scouting players.
Also, I don't want him to get bored in a couple of years and be an absente owner.
It would be neat to see him at all the games, but I don't see an upside beyond the novelty.
How to put this
...lately (and by that I mean the last few days), I've been having dreams of a rather, ...
explicit nature.
Normally (for me, anyway), my dreams are direct manifestations of my recent past or forseeable future. Basically, whatever I'm doing or thinking about at the time will show up in my dreams. Literally. My dreams aren't usually fantastic, they are quite mundane, logical, almost so realistic that they are boring. For example, a typical dream entails me trying to get from one place to another. Usually the city is a much improved version of my own city. The regions are basically the same, but the buildings are different. Anyway, the entire dream could be about me trying to get somewhere or find someone or some such normal thing. When my dreams take a dramatic flair, ...well, I know something's up.
So, what have I been doing the last few days that would account for the current R ratings?
Unfortunately nothing. I think my brain is just sex-starved. I know my body is.
Today's Fortune
"There is prospect of a thrilling time ahead for you."
Hmmm, ...just applied for my passport and started my airfare search for the Dublin trip.
Moving
We recently got the great news that my company is moving to a bigger, newer, better office building.
Currently, we are in an office above an abandoned bank. Imagine a faceless, nameless IBM outpost in the late 1970's. It's an office with green and tan first-generation cubes. The carpeting is grey with flecks and tiny streaks of white, like a pair of polyester slacks. The phones look like they are Time-magazine surplus circa 1982. The walls and carpet and ceiling are stained. Also, the office used to house 60 people. Now, it holds just 9. It is large, silent, and stifeling. It's like a giant sensory deprivation chamber.
Anyway, we are moving to the Park Place towers, a rather modern office complex that we will share with about 100 other companies.
The social upside: lots of eligable single office girls.
The social downside: no more I-woke-up-too-late-to-shower-and-shave-and-do-laundry looks.
Final Review of Splinter Cell
First:
my initial impressions
Finished it last evening.
The game is short, which is annoying for 2 reasons:
1. I paid $50 for the game.
2. The game did not feel like a long, trechorous journey, and did not make me feel like I'd accomplished something when I completed it.
Leaving the audience wanting more
can be a good thing, but leaving them
expecting more is definetly a
bad thing.
Petty Gripes:
Sam Fisher has a lot of moves, but you do not need most of them. The basic moves available in almost all other similar games are plenty good enough to get you through the game. I didn't
need them.
The "shooter view" employed when you equip your firearm is poor. It's fine for sniping (a big part of the game) and single opponent situations, but forget about trying to take on multiple shooters.
There are few suprises. It would be nice to see something interesting happen, ...for example. In my favorite mission in Mafia (the whore mission), your job is to drive to a hotel that refuses to pay protection money and murder the hotel manager as a warning to anyone else who goes against the family. Also, you need to whack a whore whose been blabbing her mouth about the mafia's business. Finally, you are to steal papers from the hotel managers office to hide evidence and blow up his office with a bomb. It gets better. All out war breaks out in the hotel as the manager's henchmen defend him. There are bodies littered all over that place. When the bomb goes off, you end up on an adjecent roof. Now the cops are after you. You must escape by jumping rooftop to rooftop to escape the police, but they've got you cornered, you need to shoot your way out. Once that is done, you crawl across into a church roof under construction, and end up in another bloodbath as you walk right into a funeral for a man you killed. It is very well done, you never see any of that stuff coming, so it is a huge suprise. In splinter cell, the mission are somewhat predictable.
There is little freedom in this game. You cannot explore the city. You can only go where the game wants you to go.
The game holds your hand. If you are about to come across a keypad locked door, be assured that the code for the door can be found in your immediate vicinity, usually on a guard's body. This is lame. Make us work for it.
Raves:
Graphics rock.
Sound is good.
Gameplay is excellent.
The game is challenging, albeit repetative.
The weaponry is great. There are a lot of things you can do, but unfortunately, you do not need to utilize these weapons very often. Your two guns will get you through most of it.
Speed control. It is very important to change your character's speed throughout the game. Handling this from the mousewheel is very cool.
Overall, it is excellent. I wish the game was longer, freer, and contained more plot twists.
8.5 out of 10
Homeless paid in pizza
Pizza Schmizza in Portland, Oregon is
hiring homeless people to hold sandwich board advertisements and paying them with pizza.
I'm torn. On one hand, giving bums something to do other than bothering me for change is a good idea, but making them more visible is a definite nuisance.
Andre Jehan, founder of Pizza Schmizza came up with the idea as follows:
"I got tired of not being able to make eye contact with these people. I thought, `What skills could they have?' Holding a sign was an obvious one,'' he said.
Haha, yeah, true, ...but I have no problem averting their eyes. In fact, it is a crucial part of the "ignoring the bums" ritual I must face nearly every time I go out.
Don't look at them. Don't listen to their stupid made up story. Keep walking. Say "No". Don't look back. Don't answer their repeated attempts to converse. Just a simple and firm "no" followed by complete indifference is usually enough to make them give up.
For those offended that I use the word "bums", ...well I guess I am only referring to the majority of the homeless that I see. They are alcoholics, rude, usually able-bodied, under 35, and completely annoying. Truly needy people who have had a tough break in life aren't necessarily "bums", so I'm not talking about them. For a good example of a "bum", check out the image linked to the story.
Condoms floating in Milwaukee harbor spark angry dispute
Some things can
only happen in Milwaukee:
When a fisherman came across a messy slick of hundreds of spent condoms in the Milwaukee harbor recently, suspicious eyes turned to the nearby Jones Island Wastewater Treatment Plant.
I guess the treatment plant is having trouble filtering out flushed condoms from the rest of the sewage. Most debris that makes it trough the treatment plant sinks, but condoms float:
Condoms that get through the screens can fill with air in the final stage of the treatment process. They then pop to the surface of the harbor. Some sewerage workers call them "silver fish" because of their appearance in the effluent.
Eventually, the ultraviolet rays of the sun cause the condoms to deteriorate and sink, Burney said.
Either that, or someone's getting a lot of action down at the harbor.
Another reason why the WMD flap is meaningless
Thailand terrorists almost had the materials for a dirty bomb. The seller was caught in a sting, but he HAD the material, had successfully smuggled it, and was in the process of selling it.
If not for the undercover agents who caught this and tipped off customs, the materials could be in muslim terrorist hands right now. Who knows if any materials slipped through prior to this or will slip through after this.
No, we have not found WMDs in Iraq. Who knows where they are. My guess is that they were smuggled out of the country and/or destroyed. The point is, Saddam had the means, the will, and opportunity to distribute a lot of this junk to al qeada and any other nut-job islamofacist group that wanted it. Getting rid of him and his regime was always the key goal of the Iraq war.
The world is much safer with him gone, whether or not we find WMDs in his borders. I guess it does not matter to me if he did or did not have WMDs at the time of the inspectors returning to Iraq. He used to have them, has always wanted them, and would have them again one day unless someone stopped him.
Tonight Tonight Tonight
Ok, so what's on the agenda tnight?
Crime and Judy at the Onopa Brewing Company. 10pm
Can't miss it. They are performing a new song tonight, a slow one from what I hear. And, as always, the beer at Onopa is always top shelf.
80's Dance night at the Mad Planet 1-ish
Gonna see if the newest crush is writhing on the dance floor again. Fantasy time ....She's crab dancing like Axel Rose to Psychedellic Furs' "Love My Way". I slam what's left of my Newcastle, groove on over, she notices me dancing with her, but she's too lost in the song to aknowledge. After a couple of songs we're both sweaty, I lean closer durring a break in the songs and offer to buy her a drink ....hmmm, ...a flawless plan.
#13 on wheat, no avo, easy cheese, easy mayo at Jimmy John's 2-ish
I can taste it already.
Begin mission #3 in Splinter Cell 3-ish
This is a great game. Complaint #1. The story line is needlessly complex. There is a LOT of information, names, numbers, cities, political intrigue, but there is no incentive to take in all of this info because the game leads you along and makes it pretty clear what you need to do. You don't have to use the facts you gather, and that kinda sucks. Why not let us solve the mystery as well as carry out the covert operations? Complaint #2. The game leads you too much. Your objective will be something like,
infiltrate the north wing of the defence ministry, but you can't tell which direction is north, your map does not tell you where you are in the map, so you are unable to figure out for yourself where you need to go. Annoyingly, the game makers solve this problem (or vice-versa) by not giving you any options. So far, there's only been 1 correct way to go to get to where you are going. You have no choice. So, you don't even really need a map, just go where the game will let you and you'll get to where you're going.
come on Give me some more freedom. Otherwise, ...it's really cool. Great gameplay, great graphics. It's not a "shooter", and sometimes you wish it was, but it does have it's fast action moments. Many of them, in fact. So far, I'm liking it. A Lot. I'd just like more freedom.
Pick Me Up
Need some cheering up?
Get some well deserved smoke blown up your butt
here.
Substance and Style
I will miss David Brinkley. I never met him, never knew him, and have no insight into what he was like behind the scenes, but I can imagine.
I'm not an expert in politics, world affairs, or societal trends, but I am interested in all those things. In fact, these topics have become a passion of mine, integral to my daily life. David Brinkley introduced me to this world. He didn't pretend to be an expert on any of these things (unlike modern day anchors who wax faux-intellectual with words they just learned 2 seconds earlier from the teleprompter). You don't have to be an expert to have ask valuable, intelligent, and thoughtful questions.
He was real and honest and funny, ...and unreplaceable.
Sam Donaldson remembers him in this
interview.
From the "People get what they deserve" Department
I loved this MSNBC story about a Colonel in the US Army who got
engaged to 50 different women he met through online dating sites while serving overseas.
Maybe I'm a mean SOB, but I found this story hilarious. Call me overly cautious, but you should not agree to marry some guy just because he writes you a flowery email. The fact that he got 50 women to agrees to this is embarrassing. Not feminism's brightest day. Here's a key quote from one of the unsuspecting ladies.
“We are not a group of stupid, naive women,” Sarah Calder, 33, told the Times. “We are bright, intellectual, professional women. I can’t tell you how much he wooed us with his words. He made us feel like goddesses, fairy princesses, Cinderellas. We had all found our Superman, our knight in shining armor.”
She kinda kills her own case, huh? Hang them by their own words, I always say.
Funny quote of the week
"If 'not buying something' is 'in effect, censoring' then I have spent my entire life silencing the right of Adam Sandler to speak his mind."
Who else,
Lileks. And I haven't even read the Onion this week.
Invitation Part II
It's not an un-vitation or a non-vitation, ...it's apparently the real thing.
Today's email contained specifics that brought about feelings of happiness and anxiety, or as I like to call it "happiety".
She invited me to go with her to the
Witnness music festival in Kildare, Ireland this July. Now, this is the type of thing that normal people like. It's a great "experience", ...a huge "party", ...a chance to hang out with thousands of different "people". This
should be the type of thing I remember for the rest of my life, ...a first encounter with a beautiful foreign girl, 2 days in a tent watching bands like the White Stripes, the Roots, Coldplay, the Flaming Lips ...
But for me, this is a nightmare. I could never do it. I wouldn't go to this festival if I was going with just a few friends, much less on a first date, surrounded by her closest friends, living in a tent ...please. Let me demonstrate verbally what this "date" would be the equivalent of:
Imagine you are walking down the street. You see a box full of expired ham, expired raw fish, and grizzled pork. You eat it. You then see a beaker of sulfuric acid. You drink that. In a short time you experience great pain, agony, and misery. Shortly afterwards, you die.
Well, she also said she is free all of July, but that she might be traveling home to Beijing in August. I have a few days to decide on my response. Should I stay or should I go? Right now the thought of traveling over there to see her has turned my stomach into a rock tumbler. I'm like a robot created for one purpose (like lifting crates), but given a crucial flaw or defect that is irreversible (like created without arms).
Think think think
I guess it depends on your definition of "geek"
| You are 23% geek |
OK, so maybe you ain't a geek. You do, at least, show a bit of interest in the world around you. Either that, or you have enough of a sense of humor to pick some of the sillier answers on the test. Regardless, you're probably a pretty nifty, well-rounded person who gets along fine with people and can chat with just about anyone without fear of looking stupid or foolish or overly concerned with minutiae. God, I hate you. |
Take the Polygeek Quiz at Thudfactor.com
The past few days
Riviera was pretty good Friday night. I didn't know it was their CD release. I'm not sure how many people can fit in that room, but it was sold out. I'm guessing about 250. I like them, especially their "California" song. All their songs are good, pleasant, easy-listening, ...you just wish they had more edge. Also, you wish they would
rock every now and then.
I love Chicago. I walked up to the door to the theater at Shuba's and guess who is working the door? Matt, the cowboy hat wearing bassist from
Califone. For a small town guy like me, that's pretty cool. Chicago people are probably used to it, but I only know califone by their CDs. So, to me, they are supposed to be indie rock stars, ...off partying in Portland, recording in New York, or colaborating with someone from the Smiths on some esoteric music project.
Anyway, back at work now. Hating it again. Vacations are too short. Damn them.
Chicago
It's a beautiful day here in the non-windy city. Got in town just in time to grab the CTA to Wrigley and see Sammy bat a few times.
Tonight, The Response @ the Elbow Room on Lincoln. Tomorrow, museums, apartment shopping, possible date, and Riveria @ Shuba's.
So, what about the date? It's an almost blind date. I've seen her picture, she's seen mine, but I know absolutely nothing about her. We'll see if we can hook up.
BTW, pictures later tonight.
Invitation
For some time I have suspected that "The" invitation was being focus grouped, field tested, and hinted at. Yesterday, it finally came.
"I don't have plans so far for the summer if I don't go home. One of my
friends is trying to convince me now to go to Turkey for a holiday with her.
I actually like the idea. On the other hand, I still want to tour around
xxxxxxx before I leave. What would you do for your holiday this year? I
remembered u told me last time u'd help one of your friends to setting up
something for his business. Anyhow, if u'd like to come to Europe for a
visit, I'd be glad to meet you then."
So, what exactly does this mean? Does it mean:
"Come to Europe to visit me."
or
"If you are going somewhere, and that somewhere happens to be Europe, then I could probably meet up with you at some point, some where, maybe."
or
"I'm not coming over there, if that's what you're asking. If you want, ...(pause) you can come here, I guess. I could meet up with you then if that's what you're getting at. Whatever."
Before I commit to the trip, I need to get a better idea which one it is. I've sent off a response making it clear that I'd love to come if we can make our schedules match, and that the main reason I would come is to see and spend time with her. We'll see what that dredge-spoon unearths. This is important, ...it's the difference between a life-altering holiday in Europe with a beautiful, brilliant girl or a fiscal quarter of humid Wisconsin nights spent playing Splinter Cell, listening to baseball, and watching Keen Eddie.
Chicago
Taking a few days off to visit Chicago this week.
Thursday night: Seeing The Response at the Elbow Room
Friday: Cubs vs Yankees
Friday night: Seeing Riviera at Shuba's
Apartment hunting inbetween.
Weekend
So, I know you're about to ask, ...no I did not make it out to the MP to see my latest crush.
The doc was MIA, Dan was practicing, it was raining, ...I stayed home and slept.
Saturday night almost ended up the same way. I made myself some crab spring rolls and began contemplating spending an entire weekend in the house when I got a late call from the doc. We went out to Riversplash. For those who do not know, Riversplash is an outdoor beer bash located on Milwaukee's downtown bar/restaurant strip (Water Street). It is a very "Water street" crowd, ...lots of baseball caps, Gap wear, hemp necklaces and other frat boy accessories. So, why the hell was I there?
Well, the doc kinda likes that whole scene. He drag him along to all the punk rock, garage rock, emo rock, hip/urban clubs, but he's not really in his element there. He really wanted to go and I consider it restitution for dragging him all across the city to see bands he hates. Anyway, a great band,
the Mistreaters, had their CD release Saturday night at the
Cactus. We left Riversplash at midnight and decided to tip a pint at the
Garage before heading across the Hoan bridge to Bay View.
While we were there I managed to catch the eye of the only cute girl in the place, ...a tall, sleepy-eyed brunette. I don't think she was actually interested, but she certainly noticed my glances and didn't really seem all that annoyed. Her expression was rather matter-of-fact, which is fine. She was not exactly my type anyway, ...but man was she cute.
On to the Cactus. We missed the Mistreaters, but heard they rocked pretty hard. As usual, things got a little out of hand, ...dancing on the tables, mass groping, ...usual Mistreaters chicanery. Well, guess who shows up? Yep, the brunette. Of course she sees me. We exchange glances again, but for the life of me I can't interpret them. Long story short, ...I holstered my weapon. Maybe I'll get a clearer signal next time, ...or maybe I'll have a little more of the bottled confidence in me.
Struggling with EJBs
I know very little about EJBs, but here I am trying to manually deploy and configure a half-finished application on WebSphere 4.0 using WebSphere 5.0 instructions. From what I can tell, the difference between 4.0 and 5.0 is like the difference between Windows 3.1 and Windows XP. So, guess what, ...I'm dead in the water.
This is all slightly less frustrating that "real" problems, so I should be thankful I'm not in charge of handling the Arafat vs Abbas fiasco or posing for pictures with Jacques Chirac. By the way, ...I love those pictures of Bush and Chirac. Bush looked natural, pleasant (as he should since he is the victor in their little spat) and Chirac looked like, ...well, ...a jealous french boob. The painted smile on his face was priceless.
