Buffy and Smallville Party

Thanks for everyone who showed up last night to the Buffy and Smallville party.

Originally, Tamara and I decided we were going to do a date night since two of our favorite season premiers came on. Since Danny was stuck at the castle by his lonesome, we invite him over too.

I had mentioned to James that I needed help with X-Windows, and offered dinner in payment, however he had plans with Pete who’s in town doing training. But, he committed to a strong maybe after the pizza thing in Tyson’s was over.

Passing the news, Pete got the invitation just in time, but didn’t feel that comfortable bailing out on his new friends, and so got permission to bring them. How was I not surprised they were all female?

By this time we had critical mass, and Tamara decided to turn this into a welcome to autumn party. When I got home, she and the Hendersons had decorated the house in fall attire, including corn-cob wreaths on the door!

Tamara made two huge lasagnas and Danny brought over some sodas. People started showing up around 6:30, so we took in the season finale of Smallville.

Alan managed to make it out of NIH a little later than normal, but got there before Buffy started. On his way over, who did he see pulling into her driveway but Bonnie! The two rode over, and Bonnie shared with us her recent daily adventures.

Tamara got a call from Michele who had a status report about SAIC, and since there was enough time, extended an invitation to her and Mark. They took us up on it, and about 40 minutes they showed up with the most amazing cheese cake you’d ever tasted.

I was starting to feel like a real schmuck, because earlier that day I had talked to Jim by phone: Pete had called him and told him there was a party at my place, and I just flat out denied it. I even put a post on WWCo to see how far Jim would take the bait.

As I was about to call Jim, guess who drove back from Roanoke! Laurie made a surprise visit, apparently arranged by Tamara, as a surprise for Danny. Danny had found another roll of pictures and brought over photos from DC with Tamara and Michele in them that we hadn’t seen yet. He’s still waiting on two more to get developed.

Chris called with a Linux question regarding Apache, and it didn’t seem right ignoring the guests, nor did it seem right to not extend an invitation to our spaghetti night hosts. So we did. And they accepted, bringing Doug (who was visiting) with them.

Excluding the Hendersons, we had 16 people there. When Buffy came on, house rules requested silence, and we watched it and Smallville, only having to use the TiVo once to pick up something that was missed. I have to point out this wasn’t the fault of anyone, but rather we all couldn’t understand the zombie like ghost thingy taunting Buffy, so we had to turn on closed captioning for a moment. It was basically your old “you can’t save her, you didn’t save me” threat.

Michele H. came home from work early, apparently they had a corporate meeting offsite. She hadn’t gotten the news about the party, but clued in with as many cars packed around our house as there were. I felt kinda bad she had to park further away than normal. She happened to come in a few minutes after Smallville started and joined us.

When the shows were over, we pulled out the ice-cream and watched the bonus materials on Monster’s Inc., which included the new short “Mike’s New Car.”
Dan brought over his Outer Limits DVD with four travel episodes on it, and we watched one about the holocaust.

Afterward we broke out Robo Rally and had a timed game of capture the flag. Chris won, but only because he pushed my robot into a conveyor belt when Michele shot me and I had a choice to either move or heal. It was be dead, or come in second.

It started getting late, but Bonnie asked if we could play the game we did at her Chalet, so we did. It was much more fun with a larger crowd. So, I introduced the mafia variant to the group. I tell you, you folks are just plain evil.

People finally started leaving around 12:30am and we kicked the last out at 1:00pm. That’s when it dawned on me, due to all the distractions, we never got to call Jim or Loralie back.

I’m sure I’ll hear about it today, cause you know, if there’s a party, they always HAVE to be invited. 🙂

When is it over?

Every once in a while you gain some insight into the opposite sex that just really makes you recoil in horror. I’m a male, I’m grounded in logic, and I like it that way.

The discussion that started this train of thought centered around the topics of relationships ending, or, more specifically “breakups.”

It appears that, much to the detriment of women everywhere, that when a guy says “goodbye” and moves on there’s something implicitly callous about that — even if they are the ones to originate the breakup.

As my wife expressed it, women kind of expect a one to two month mourning period, where after the relationship is “over” and the guy doesn’t date. Perhaps he sits back and reflects, or something like that.

In short, few guys do.

After a bit of discussion, I think I figured out why.

When a man is in a bad relationship, that is communication has broken down and the physical part is going no where and the internal pain has hit intolerable levels forcing change, he starts mentally preparing himself for the big goodbye. Here’s the main point: guys stay in the relationship during the mourning period. At the point of said “goodbyes” the detachment is fairly complete, and they’re ready to move on. Put another way, when a guy says his “goodbye” that’s him reaching the last step of the journey. It marks it as over.

For women, however, it seems that the moment they can get themselves to the “goodbye” phase, that’s when they just start to deal with the emotional trauma of the events. This also seems to go a long way to explaining why after a breakup a woman isn’t ready to reenter into a relationship as quickly as men are. This leads to the statement “my, he moved on quickly” and using that as post justification of “he never loved me in the first place, that proved it.”

I dunno if this assessment is right or wrong, perhaps it’s just emotional procrastination?

Anyone care to corroborate with their own experiences?

Gauntlet and Saving Voyager

Let’s see if I can recap all that’s happened this weekend.

Thursday I got to demo some cool source code I’d be dinking with, during which Pete called and confirmed he was coming up for the weekend. He’s got training this week in Tyson’s Corner.

Meanwhile, my wife, James, and Alan had been helping Jim move stuff all day from his apartment to his new townhouse. I got there just in time to help the guys move, transport, and carry the heavier furniture.

I’m not sure if there’s a conspiracy going on or not, but kind of like the hot dog makers don’t seem to have any form of communication with the hot dog bun makers, when it comes to packaging counts, so it seems with house builders and furniture makers.

After getting the smallest sofa Jim had into the house by literally turning it on end and stuffing it through a small door-frame, crushing Jim’s fingers in the process, we actually toyed with the idea of lifting his larger sofa onto the roof of his van and hauling it over the balcony.

It seems home makers simply make doors too small for furniture and standard appliances to go through, and when you do get them to budge, they won’t go down the hall or up the stairs, and when you do get them that far, you can’t navigate them around corners, banisters, and hand railings. Heaven help him if a new kitchen stove or refrigerator is needed.

Apparently while I was at work, Tamara spent her day helping Jim clean his apartment as to retain the security deposit. She’s such a sweetie. Friday evening Shawn rolled in for a military event the next morning. We got the gang together and went to Unos. The music was too loud, they’ve switched from Coke to Pepsi, and Shawn couldn’t get them to make a milkshake — no wonder the place is vacant.

We managed to talk Michele H. into joining us, too. Turns out, we’ve got to watch out for her. I was telling Tamara that one of my favorite authors had just come out with a new book, and that I’d like to pick it up. Saturday morning when we woke up, Michele had snuck out extra early, grabbed the book, and had it waiting right outside our bedroom door. I was extremely touched; we were planning on doing the same to her, but she beat us to it!

Saturday Tamara and I were extremely sore, by then all the moving and lifting had finally kicked in. See, not only does Jim have good taste in matching furniture, he also goes for sturdy and multi-functionality. At least one of those sofas had a portable bed in it, so we were lugging a lot of iron disguised as a hollow wood frame.

Figuring that Jim had been burdening a lot of the mental and physical load, I suspected he was probably running on empty. So, I took him out for an all-Jim-could-eat dinner. We got potato skins smothered in cheese, chicken platters, milk shakes, sodas, water, beef kabobs, and the like. Jim managed to get the best seat in the house, offering the best view of eye-candy.

Sunday morning Pete arrived. He’s got training in Tyson’s Corner this week, so he’ll be around until Wednesday. Pete needed some distraction time, so we got in his car and drove to Springfield Mall to hit the Time Out.

Pete, Tamara, and I managed to shove in a little over $25 into Gauntlet, only to have our tooshies fried by a huge red dragon at the end of level one. Tamara made it to a 7th level yellow-person, but even then it wasn’t enough.

We did a little shopping and found a little book store, a great gaming store, and swung into a few other interesting places as well. We even got assaulted by a vendor trying to sell us head massagers shaped like a wire octopus.

In another TimeOut, we blew $5 on saving StarTrek’s Voyager from being over run by Borg. We were pretty successful at the shoot’em’up, but when we boarded the Borg ship we had to make a command decision. Which was more important: saving the lives of hundreds of innocent crew men, or tending to the calling of our bellies. Hunger won.

So, off we went to eat at TGI Friday’s in Springfield. I used my power coupon card again, and the entire meal for the three of us was $1.83. I can’t recall when I’ve had a charge that low put on my charge card, especially for a three person meal.

We did a little exploring for Pete as well, locating his hotel and also where he was to go for training. Just as it was physically draining for us, it was emotionally draining for Pete. Rather than get together in a big group, we opted to keep it small and simple.

We watched the shorts and bloopers on Monsters Inc. and decided to do some games instead.

I brought out a new game called Ice Towers, which involves taking multiple sized pyramids that stack and trying to capture progressively growing towers made by your opponents. There’s a trick, however: there are no turns and there is no official end to the game (the players just have to know). It doesn’t require speed or dexterity, just a lot of real-time strategy on a dynamic, unorganized playing field.

Michele H. saw us and joined in. After several rounds, we switched to Flux — where the rules keep changing as the game progresses. When that ended, we went to Aquarius, and Pete and I kept zapping cards and swapping goals. Then we brought out Twitch. Now we were throwing colored cards into a popcorn bowl as fast as we could, only player order was important. Thing were fine until left meant right and right meant left; this was enough to confuse Michele, but in the end she won after a few rounds. Then we flipped to Plague and Pestilence, and no sooner than we started, the Ship’O’Death pulled into port and we all got killed off, except for Tamara’s population of five people making her the winner.

The was five different games, brand new to many, played in the course of about two and a half hours. We went to bed exhausted.

Pete said he wanted to be occupied, it was just unclear how much the rest of us would be sucked into the fun!

48 Hours of Fun

This had to have been one of the best weekends I’ve had in a good long while. I had quite a number of hours banked up at work, so I was able to beat traffic home. My wife and I got to spend some time together as she wasn’t swamped with projects, and she had made substantial advances on the landscaping while I was at work. Meanwhile the roofers showed up and had repaired the hail storm damage.

On Saturday, Mark, Michele, Jim, Loralie, Tamara, and I went to Six Flags for the SAIC picnic. Jim and I started the day doing roller coasters, then we all got together for lunch and ate more ice-cream, popsicles, and soft-drinks than a human should, and then went on a few more rides coasters for good measure.

Superman, Bat-Wing, Joker’s Wild, and Two Face were the hits of the park for those of us who were willing to let our feet off the ground.

We went home bruised and totally exhausted when my cell phone reported 46 calls. Apparently my brother-in-law went to join up with us… only he headed to King’s Dominion. Oops.

Then the next morning Danny, Laurie, Alan, and Michele showed up on my doorstep at 8:00am and we all rode out to the Maryland Renaissance Festival and spent the whole day there watching shows, eating bread bowls filled with soup, downing smoked turkey legs, and tossing back sodas. I took lots and lots of photos to commemorate the day — I guess Danny is rubbing off on me.

With digital cameras, film is cheap (think about it for a second), so I walked around the whole day taking pictures of people, costumes, animals, scenery, skits, and of course us. Whatever was blurred to the point of non-recognition or was just simply unflattering, I simply deleted. Just under 180 pictures survived and are pending distribution to the group.

As with the coasters, there were some notable high points in this day as well. This had to be the first time ever I’ve gone and not see O Fool’s show. The format of it changed, and there are three things that strike me as problematic. The first is that during setup time there is an awful lot of dead time happening on stage — you don’t get to see what’s happening and there’s no actor out there. The second is he’s given up a lot of stage time to his son, but O Fool is the accomplished actor; this destroys the contiguous flow that once was there in prior versions. The third is that for portion of his skits, O Fool is wearing a mask to emulate other characters; this covering up his face is a sincere disservice to himself, as it blocks out virtually all of the non-verbal communication which is a necessity for his show.

But this left us with more time to catch some other acts, two of which were Shakespeare Scum and The Bloody Theater (which had nothing to do with Blood whatsoever). The former does plays at lightning speed (sometimes in reverse) with several strange twists, and usually once someone forgets their lines it all spirals out of control. The latter starts deliberately out of control and goes into straight improv for the whole show. The featured actor there is “Bob” who, by all accounts, is the “nicest guy” both on and off the stage.

We spent quite a while talking with Bob after he was done for the day. We walked away with the feeling of “Bob’s a nice guy.” I don’t know whether he just has a high tolerance for annoying audiences or whether the Dana Carvey smile planted on his face genetically gives him an advantage over the rest of us.

The 70% chance of rain that was supposed to flood us out, but was stayed by the poncho’s hidden on our persons, managed to scare off the majority of the crowds. There were ever slight sprinkles to keep the heat down, but nothing that constituted rain in its own right. Only after we were in the car and heading home did the skies unleash the furry.

Once home I was way too tired to go get something to eat and curled up on the floor watching Lathe of Heaven on A&E. I’d been trying to finish that show for about 2 weeks; thanks to TiVo, I could slice it into pieces and do so in my spare time.

This weekend has set new highs for being able to hang out and jam a lot of fun and excitement into a 48 hour period.

You Rang

So, I’m sitting there at work and my cell phone rings.

This guy introduces himself as the guy who sold me my Cell One plan before Cingular came in and made a mess of the network.

He’s telling me about how I ought to consider upgrading, and that they have new plans out. But I explained I had a finite amount of minutes, and I was happy with what I had.

But, he started making a fairly compelling case. It seemed I could nearly double my air time for about $10 more a month, plus get some frills tossed in there.

Then it dawned on me, “I’m not burning minutes on this customer service call, am I?”

There was a brief pause, “customer service?”

This guy suddenly realized he was eating up my precious minutes in an attempt to tell me why I needed more minutes.

I Forgot to Study for My Personality Test

Michele keeps posting all these personality tests, so here’s one for you.

The Rocket Scientist
You are a silent, logical individual who’s friends look up to you. While you don’t thrive on the attention, you’d miss it if it weren’t there. You like the technical and the mechanical over the abstract arts. Life is a set of equations, and the mystery is to uncover them. Sometimes you get so involved with the moment that you miss out on recognizing your friends like you for who you are.

They’re Coming To Get You, Margret

Last night’s big event was heading to Spaghetti night, where not only was it highly social, but also productive for me.

I got to learn about a new role playing game, say hello to Alex, get a hug from Laurie and Barb, arrange a discussion night tonight with Danny, and got some great advice on drawing.

I decided to bring along a laptop and twiddle with some code while I was there. James helped me figure out some X-Windows and MySQL stuff, and he also managed to locate a subtle, but easily correctable, bug. This held my attention through most of the main movie, which turned out to be a remake of Night of the Living Dead.

The first time I saw the original, it was on a snow day in the 7th grade. The night before snow had fallen pretty deep, and the snow plows were working hard to make headway. School, for what ever reason, wasn’t canceled, and our bus showed up and after about 2 hours we arrived at school.

Once there we learned that of 5,000 students, only about 800 had made it. And since many of the teachers couldn’t make it in, classes were canceled, and we were trapped.

We were shuttled to the math department, primary because it had the best heat. One of the teachers suggested we spend the day doing math problems, but it’s amazing how fast 80 booing seventh-graders students can turn into an angry mob. Another teacher fessed up he had ordered Night of the Living Dead through the school system, and was planning on watching it after hours. If we wanted, he’d go get it and play it.

It was an easy sell.

So, out went the lights, and we all watched the creepy black’n’white version flicker on the side of the classroom wall. As I recall there was a lot of laughing and throwing of paper wads. Most people were cheering for the zombies.

Eventually the storm let up, the plows got through, the busses showed up, and we got home about 5pm.

The next operational school day we learned that many of the parents called in to report their children waking in the middle of the night, crying, saying something about dead people trying to eat them. The political skirmish was extinguished when it was pointed out that students were allowed to leave and do other activities, no one was forced to watch the movie, and it was only brought out by a unanimous vote anyhow.

Today I can’t help but think that teacher would have been strung up and flogged.

It appears I went to school right when common sense was just going out the window. Many of the rights / privileges my senior class enjoyed were extinguished as a it-takes-a-village mentality started to take hold. Students could no longer sit on the cafeteria stage, because we might fall off. Hall passes started appearing. And it wasn’t long before metal detectors, underwear checks, and students being expelled for having aspirin emergency kits in the glove compartment were to follow.

I still remember the day my Physics teacher looked at the head of the president of the body and said “Stacey, do you know the difference between sex and a grilled cheese sandwich?” She looked up, playing along as we did our random joke ritual every single day, “No, Mr. B., I don’t.” He smiled and said, “We should do lunch sometime” in perfect delivery and turned to write the lesson on the blackboard.

Stacey instantly blurted out laughing and turned a little red, not at what was said, but the fact that she’d let herself get suckered. Everyone else joined in, and no one thought of it after the fact. It was clear, from context, that Mr. B wasn’t serious (or interested in Stacey), but that it was humor plain and simple. Stacey understood. We understood. And that was that.

Today I can’t help but think that if this had happened in present day the teacher would be fired on the spot.

Somewhere along the way Americans have lost the ability to distinguish between reality and the imagined. We’ve been taught to play the role of the victim, and it’s our job to be hyper-sensitive to every offense out there. Doing so invites more attention our way, and quite often I wonder if it isn’t really inspired by greed for sue-happy lawyers or a spineless segment of government catering to the whims of the loudest complaint.

Funny how we look back at our grand parents and their parents and we see that these people grew up just fine, had a stronger degree of ethics, were far more educated (even when self taught), and they just seemed to be made of a better metal than nowadays. Our socialistic tendencies which are designed to protect us from every conceivable harm, even those brought on by ourselves, has left us with college students who graduate and can’t function in the real world without government handholding. Doesn’t this bother anyone else?

Elphant Hunters Praised for a Job Well Done

One year ago today, US soil was attacked. I expect to hear a lot about it in the news. I expect to see a lot of ribbons. I expect to see a show of security.

That’s why I’m not going to watch the news, wear a ribbon, but will make a comment on security.

You see, a lot of American have already mourned and come to emotional terms with what happened. A day of remembrance is nothing more than a day of television ratings. Fair-weather patriots bother me even more; too many people just wear a ribbon to call attention to themselves more than to silently commemorate. The loss of Jim Henson, Gene Roddenberry, and George Burns seemed far more sincere by Americans on many accounts. Perhaps that’s because we knew them more intimately, and we know we’re supposed to feel bad, but just don’t have the connection. I feel it’s more important to be honest about your emotional state than to follow the trend of buying a $10 flag for your car and taking a company mandated minute of silence during your lunch break. Is it true loss felt, or more of the desire to just fit in because of peer pressure?

Air travel will be particularly light as American’s fear to board a plane this anniversary. We’ve got scud missiles pointed at the clouds. NIH is checking every single car that passes through its gates. Many US citizens tremble in not being able to leave Northern Virginia fast enough, wanting as much distance as possible between them and the District of Columbia.

It just seems like society doesn’t have common sense anymore. Everyone thinks the terrorists are out to get him or her specifically. At SAIC when the planes were falling from the skies, they locked down their parking lots and you had to show a badge. If you’re a terrorist, and you’ve got scare resources of hijacked planes, where are you most likely going to put it… some place of specific military importance or of high political interest, or one of hundreds of SAIC buildings spread over the country? Hmm. Let’s think.

GEIS did the same thing for things like the Gulf War or threats from Iraq, and at times even took the GE meatball logo off the building. Security by obscurity just gives a false sense of safety. It’s like covering your eyes so the monsters under the bed don’t get you.

We know for a fact that the terrorists we’re dealing with are patient. They’ll sit low for 10 years or more just planning. You think somewhere along the way they’d have access to a phone book with a street address. I’m sorry, but many of us just aren’t that important enough to be attacked: what we do or produce can quickly be picked up somewhere else by someone else. Such an attack is wasted, and the terrorists know that.

I understand the publicly stated reasoning behind it all: “we deal with government,” “we make parts used in missiles,” “we deal with the stock market.” The reality is employees who don’t understand risk analysis feel scared, and making a show of activity is creates the illusion they’re protected. This way they’ll go back to being productive and making money for the company.

Take the anthrax scare. The day it came out, the very day, near the very hour of the news report, SAIC had to call in the HAZMAT team because someone reported seeing a white substance in the stall of the women’s bathroom. When this happens, every call must be taken seriously. It’s expensive, it’s inconvenient, and it shuts the place down. It places a taxing burden on emergency response units, and those who seriously need it don’t get the on-demand service required for a real emergency. Consider this, Bin Laden himself sneaks past dozens of guards and automated systems, by passes the lobby, conference rooms filled with military, skips over a great biological target like the cafeteria, and goes up half a dozen or so floors, sneaks into the women’s bathroom, and drops a white substance overtly on the floor to be seen and recognized by the untrained. Great plan, or irrational panic? I’d argue that more financial damage was done by Americans who did a knee-jerk reaction without asking “come on, is this a likely target of benefit” than the planes themselves. Naturally, hours later the lab reports it’s dust from the toilet paper rolls. Go figure. And to be fair, other companies were doing the exact same thing. What did security do? They passed out handy-wipe packets, the kind you get to wipe your fingers after a BBQ dinner, to everyone… yeah, that’ll stop Anthrax.

Let’s get real, should a terrorist want to breach any of these facilities, do they have the resources to fake a badge? Sure do. But why go through that trouble, when you can point a machine gun at a minimum wage security guard. I once asked an AOL guard what he’d do if a gunman came in demanding to pass. The answer: “Hand him my keys and resign.”

Countries are always ready to re-fight the last war, never the current one. We assume that the tactics used will be the ones used again. That’s not how wars are fought. Look at how the Red-Coats expected the engagement — let’s point guns at each other, you fire at me, I fire at you, we reload, and go till no one’s left to drop. Change tactics, boom. Fast forward to present day, we’ve got all our defenses set up so that we can address a missile-flying and world-war-II threats. Duh, hasn’t anyone realized the enemy is already on our land, has been for years, and has access to deploy from within our borders? Crippling a country has become so much easier now that people won’t defend themselves and we rely on supply chains and lack the knowledge of basic survival skills.

I loathe the airport and NIH security policies. First of all, ask yourself, if you were going to conduct another attack, would you be doing it on a day the Americans were waiting for it? The element of surprise just worked so well last time. So, where will todays stepped up security measures be tomorrow? Why weren’t they in place yesterday? This is the same issue I take with holiday-only patriots — where was your pride of country before this event, and why did it fade so quickly?

What’s worse is that even if we had all the security policies in place, all the time, even back in 2001, it would not have prevented the attacks. Even the US government admits that. So, I ask, why if we’ve just declared the procedure benefit-less do we engage in doing it, especially at such cost? The answer: because if we don’t do something, people will says “you’re not doing anything” — and that looks politically bad for those holding public office.

It doesn’t take half a mind to fashion a decent weapon real-time on an aircraft from readily available supplies. There are so many ways to bypass security that even 60 Minutes got past airport security with a gun on national television.

I’m surprised at how panicked Americans get, too. Two planes barely put a dent in the real face of New York. One plane damaged only a section segment of one wall at the Pentagon. Yet, people were acting like DC had been flattened and the shock wave was traveling hundreds of miles. That’s movie special effects, not reality. I thought other countries had a problem with conceptualizing the size of the United States, apparently it’s own citizens do as well. If something really bad is happening, please leave the public utilities and transportation means open to emergency units. News will still travel.

The problem with current security policies is two fold. Number one, we don’t take into account that the attacker is willing to trade their life for their goal. This one is hard to combat, because the common set of deterrents don’t work. Number two, we don’t take a pro-active stance; we believe the world thinks like us, shares our views, embraces diversity, and as a whole wants to get along. People, we’re the ignorant ones.

What this attack has shown is how unprepared we are, and more importantly, were. We can’t want the government to protect our borders and at the same time deny them the means to provide that defense. Defense doesn’t equate to war. And each time a country has been completely subdued by force, peace results, and usually good relations after the fact. Each time we let the politicians dictate how, we still have skirmishes and we’ve lost. Think Japan. Think Korea.

Because we’re in a panic, many Americans are willing to trade privacy, freedoms, and liberties for security. I shake my head at this behavior. Safety does not have to come at the expenditure of these things, and more importantly, shouldn’t. Plus, the “security” we’re getting is illusionary; it’s not the real kind that gets the job done. It’s a show.

Let’s wise up and start asking the right questions. What is the realistic probability that terrorists are going to attack today? …that they are going to attack where you specifically work and live over better targets? …and what is the cost you’re paying.

As the old joke goes, “elephants are excellent at hiding in trees.” “What do you mean, I’ve never seen one before.” “My point exactly.” Before you allow fear and stress to ruin your emotional state and you’ve tossed every principle being an American is about out the window, ask yourself if those guys protecting trees from having elephants climb in them are actually providing value, and while you’re at it, find out how many elephants they’ve personally been able to stop in the past.

Don’t Go There Cotton Boy

Deep Thoughts by Chelsea Monday
Hmm. So I’m sitting here sorting laundry and I’m wondering, do the dark clothes feel discriminated against when you separate them from the whites?

Comment posted by WhiskeyRivers  [original posting in Live Journal]

Loady, Loady, Loady All Mighty.. Spin and last, spin at last.

Today marked the first day of the discrimination case of laundry separation being heard by the Supreme Court, as detailed by judge Maytag.

For years society has been separating colored loads from whites. It all seemed quite normal and acceptable, until one rosy pair of socks had enough and decided to park itself in the back of the laundry basket. When asked to move to make way for a pair of BVDs, the old color sock refused, saying she had been on her feet all day.

Eventually the sock was arrested, went to trial, found guilty, and a 381 day boycott of coin operated laundry mats progressed. Upon appeal, the case was taken to the Supreme Court.

“I don’t understand what all the fuss is about,” commented one tattered t-shirt, “it’s separate but equal.”

“Dat’s a load,” rebuked a set of denim jeans, “you get bleach… we don’t. You get warm water… we don’t.”

Laundryologist Pulathread comments, “you have to understand, there are fundamental differences that we can’t control; for example, colors just inherently run faster than whites. We’re just trying to accommodate to what’s best for the individual garments.”

Rioting almost broke out, but was broken up by police, when two pillow cases cut holes in themselves and taunted a pair of work socks. CNN interviewed the socks for comment, “man, it hurt — they acted like our color will rub off or something.” Things broke down when the camera man pointed out that it did come off.

The pillow sheets, out on bail, were questioned on the Tailor Today show about their behavior. “Look, we’ve just had enough. They claim they’re in the minority because they get separated from us, but just count how many of them there are. I mean, just take a census and you’ll see there far more darks than lights. And don’t tell me they don’t discriminate, the reds and the blues are constantly having turf wars. Even the darkest sweaters are looked down upon by the lighter cacky pants. They might not admit it, but they’re just as dirty as we are.”

One white church outfit stood up and stated that he wanted the colors to know not all the whites felt the same way. Cheer broke out, and the tide changed in the studio. To prove his point, the outfit deliberately went into a south east laundry mat and tried to get downy with his colored brethren. Experts at the dry wash have concluded while they could replace the stolen buttons and sew the tears, the color damage is too extensive, and the church going days are over. Now polishing hubcaps and left in the garage, the shirt says he still feels the same way and would do it again.

The Supreme Court has yet to decide whether an individual article’s attributes should constitute segregation or not. The ruling could mean hundreds of billions of dollars going into refrabrication of ink formulas, but it’s clear that restitution and entitlements will only stir things up.

One exceptionally bright bra stated, “I’m hearing rumors of quotas. If I lose my right to choose who I associate with, then I’m exercising my right for extra bleach and softeners. Honestly, I don’t mind the diversity, but it strikes me the standards will be different once this is all over. It just feels that it’s gone from segregation to some clothes are more equal than others.”

Meanwhile the whole permanent press group is anxiously waiting on the outcome. If this case passes, then they hope to use this precedence to take a dip in the tub. Silk has been strangely under wraps.

Long Lost Loves and Heat on the Balcony

Last night I came home from a busy day at work, and got a pleasant surprise: I didn’t have to wait 3-7 hours to see Tamara. It rekindled that warm feeling inside knowing that I’d no longer be coming home to an empty house.

That said, she had a really rough day, and a rougher weekend, and through it all managed to get by without sleeping. I figured it best not to disturb her than to see if she was up to taking Jim up on his invite for BBQ at his place. She was zonked and I went alone.

That spawned a second surprise. Jim answered the door immediately — no muffled ruffling, muted calls of “hang on a sec,” and no awkward moments of “did you know this was on the sofa?”

He and I hung out and chatted, joked, and had a blast. It was like GNO all over again, and it was Monday to boot.

Jim cooked a fantastic (and I do mean FANTASTIC) steak dinner on a small grill out on his balcony. As we pondered whether or not this was actually permitted, Striptease started playing on FX.

I know what you’re thinking… I know… “These two fine, young men of upstanding stature and roles as model citizens will most certainly advert their eyes and change the channel.”

Well, we didn’t.

The reason we didn’t was that we saw no conceivable way that FX would be able to show any skin-scenes from the movie, and bluntly put, that’s why the movie was made. It was an excuse for Demi Moore to get naked, held together by a weak plot.

Whoever did the editing at FX deserves a bonus, if not a promotion. They snipped, and cut, and edited, and panned, and used every editing trick at their disposal to present a G rated version of Striptease. Now here’s the interesting part: it was better than what came out in the theaters.

The pacing was better, it wasn’t distracting, the story was more cohesive, and her ‘job’ didn’t get in the way. It reminds me of the Star Wars: Episode 1 that was re-edited by a fan for his personal enjoyment; by cutting out the junk, fluff, inconsistencies, (and Jar-Jar) he made the movie into a masterpiece.

Someone outside of the copyright jurisdiction could really make a mint by opening “Cutting Room Cinemas Presents…”

And, tying this all together nicely, given that the theme is my-wife-is- available and also movies, there’s a really good chance I’ll get to go to spaghetti night with her again on a more frequent basis!