Movie review: Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy

I was skeptical from the get go, honestly. I didn't give this movie much of a chance.

But there's good reason for that. I've read the book so many times I can almost recite it. I own the DVD of the British Mini-series, too. So, like Miracle, where I not only knew the whole story and how it happened, but I had to see it. So I did.

I'm not saying it's a bad movie. It's good, but I didn't like the adaptation. There were things that are in the book that deserved to be in this movie that weren't, and things that were in the movie that shouldn't have been there at all. Alan Rickman's role as the voice of Marvin wasn't what I expected. He just didn't seem sad enough.I didn't like the way Zaphod was protrayed- he's not some crazy Texan, after all. There's also(and here's a spoiler) a ill-advised love story that brews between Arthur and Trillian. Not something I needed to see at all. That's not what the story is about.

I suppose, though, that when you're making movies for people who haven't necessarily read the books, you need to make it so they'd like it. Damn masses- you ruined my movie!

To move beyond the realm of movies I've seen in the last 24 hours, I had a good time. Got to see some friends I haven't seen in a while, and to top it all off, Red brought me some food from the restaurant she works at. There's nothing like really good gyros to make me happy. Not to mention, of course, some quality time with the apple of my eye. MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM- apple of my eye.
This morning, I found out when I arrived at work at 10 that I was supposed to be here at 8, so big apolly-loggies to my co-workers for being a dufus. I wrote down the wrong start time. My bad!

Analogy of the day.

Because I'm not actually allowed to say things like this to our customers, I thought I'd vent his idea through a fake phone call.

Customer: So, do you know [insert question] about [insert company]'s software?
Me: No, we supply support for [our company]'s software only.
Customer: So, I'll have to call that company to get information about their software.
Me: Well, would you call the electric company and ask them about your gas service?
Customer: Well, no.
Me: And why is that?
Customer: Why would the electric company know about my gas service?
Me: Now you know where I'm coming from, asshat.

It's such a commonplace situation around here, it's astounding.

Anyways, my mini-marathon day is coming to an end, thankfully. I'm off to deposit my paycheck and head home. Hurray. I need the rest.

Oops, he did it again.

My father, ever the resource of all things amazing, and funny, e-mailed me this picture, from the Museum of Online Museums. he found it in the "Show and Tell of Crazy Album Covers" section, under christan music. Cracks me up.


Jeebus was the lizard king for our sins!
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Things are looking up. Again.

After thinking "gosh, I should check my accounts" I've discovered that my tax refund check has finally gone through. Gotta love that!

So, I've got some extra walkin-around cash on me, which I'm probably going to finally buy new glasses with, pay off some medical bills and assorted other debts, then hoard the rest away for that lonely day I know I'm going to need it.

Logic circuits are not currently engaged.

I've been at work for an hour already. Problem is, I'm usually hopping out of the shower about now, getting ready to shave my head. Alas, here I am.

My alarm went off at a very, very early 3:23. I turned it off. I went back to sleep. No, thank you, too early. Fortunately, I had also set my trusty palm-pilot(now the lord of my mind) to wake me up 90 minutes before I had to be to work, so the cavalry came riding up, and somehow got me into the shower. Things ran pretty smoothly after that, save for the missing deodorant, but I worked through it. My adventures were just getting started, though.

The CTA doesn't run my train line 24 hours a day, and Metra trains don't run that early in the morning. I could have hopped on the Brown Line and headed to Belmont, as far as the line goes before 5am, but I would have had to change trains first to the Red, then, once I was downtown, to the Blue so I could get to work. When I finally got to my station, I noticed I had just missed the train. Shit. I had another 15 minutes before the next one, and I would have been very late.

So I turned around, left the station, and noticed a bus coming up. Ah- I'll hop the bus, then get to the Red Line and take it downtown, but I'll have to hit it right away. At Sheridan, I hopped off the bus, and realized something rather fortuitous- I was just down the street from the famous late-night bar, Nick's Uptown, and seeing as the time was only 30 minutes past closing, I had a pretty strong chance of getting a cab. I didn't hear a train, so the decision was made to jump in a cab.

I got here and was at my desk at 4:50. Four-fucking-fifty. I'm supposed to go see a movie with a bunch of friends tonight, then Red and I are going out after she gets off of work. At some point, I think I'm going to hit up the laundromat, and hopefully, the guy who never naps will be able to take a nap. Otherwise I'm going to be completely useless.

We'll just have to see, won't we?

"You're not nineteen anymore." Part II

There's something to be said for having a new romance in your life, the good feelings, the happiness, the giddy behavior, it's all good. There's also that period of adjustment where you acclimate to another person's habits and schedule. Red works nights. I, well, work early days. But we're adjusting, and she's got a shot at a day job coming up. The point being that I have the distinct habits of being not only a morning person, but also a night owl. Not exactly a recipe for a well-rested Dave. I guess, as the song says, I'll sleep when I'm dead.

The situation vaguely reminds me of a relationship I had several years ago, when I was a 24-year-old crazy man with wild hair and a spirit-crushing job. I was dating C, who was a bartender at a place around the corner from my house. I went to my job as Hub Manager at soul-stealing company at 7, worked until at least 7, went home, ate, then went down to see her at the bar, went home with her at 2:30, then woke up at 6, walked home, took a shower, and went back to work. That job was really taxing. Most of my co-workers and friends thought I was insane for doing it, and that I was going into a very early grave if I kept it up. At least I had a good staff to help keep me moderately sane. I miss them. They were damn good to me.

I got away with it then because I was younger. I wasn't on the caffeine, either- hell, I gave that up at 22, and still haven't gone back. This year marks 10 years without that wonderful elixr of the sleep-deprived. Amazing. What's more amazing is I feel like it's been 100 years since then- where did the time go?

Grumpy.

Problems at the CME today have made my workplace a less happy place to be.

That's too bad.

Jen and I have put together one hell of a pub quiz for tonight. I'm very excited about it. Should be great. And for those of you who are still hungry to see what my questions are like, I should have a website up later today for my MS team that I'll try to have my questions posted to as well. More on that later.

Back to the salt mines.

sierra mike india tango tango echo november

It's true. I am. I hear music. Given, a lot of that music is stuff I'm thinking would be funny if sung by Eric Cartman, but at least I'm hearing music. And I have an odd urge to watch the Muppet Show, but I think that's an unrelated need to revisit my childhood.

Anyways, this blog is not about my relationships, no matter how much I want it to be. I just felt the need to tell the world, and, well, this is one way I can do that.

I'm so excited for this Friday, the premiere for Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. I've actually won free tickets to see an advance screening of it tonight from WXRT, but, I will be running my pub quiz. I'm double-booked. Poop. Guess I'll have to wait. I'll be going to that in the early evening, then spending the late evening with the apple of my eye. Unfortunately, I'm working 6am shifts both Thursday and Friday, then putting in some overtime on Saturday- no rest for the wicked. Still.

Ok. I've got a pub quiz to finish, but I promise to write more later.

"You're not nineteen anymore."

Those four words hit me pretty hard when I was talking with my knee surgeon before we actually put me under the knife. We were speaking about the recovery time I was going to have after he put all those holes in my knee and cut out all the bad stuff. Pictures, in case you wanted to take another gander at them, are available here.

And yes, he was right, I am not 19 anymore, and it took me longer than I thought to recover(I still cannot kneel, and it's been almost 9 months), even PT lasted longer than we thought it would, but I'm much, much better.

Today's recovery comes from Saturday's night out, where I wound up not going to sleep until 5, when I had to wake up at 8 so I could go to work. Oops. Yesterday I was just plain exhausted. In the olden golden days I could do that, but I was working at Tower, not exactly a mental challenge, so it wasn't a big deal that I operated on next to no sleep. It was a favorite game of ours, actually, to see which supervisor would show up on time when we were all out drinking the night before. Ah, good times.

So, last night I went to bed at 10:15, hoping to get the 6 hours of sleep I know I needed so bad. Mission accomplished, but I'm still exhausted. As it stands, I have a sleep debt so large, I'll be dead for 15 years before I make up for it. At least, that's my guestimation.

Point taken, doc. I am not 19 anymore.

Bringing down the house.

I quite literally had the room at Gio's laughing to tears last night. Maybe not everyone, but J, the guy who runs the show, couldn't stop crying, he was laughing so hard.

How did I acheive such an amazing feat?

The last song of the evening was starting up. It was Jack and Diane, and he invited some of us regulars up to help out with the song. I told everyone to follow my lead, and I turned that mutha out, Eric Cartman style. It was hilarious, scary, and probably the most laughter that's ever occured in that bar at one time.

I first sang that song ala Eric Cartman years ago, Jen and I were driving around Chicago in her car, and the aforementioned song came up on the tape, and out it came.

I had my hand in a few other songs, and did the Joker again, as well as Stuck in the Middle with You. It was also my friend R's birthday, so my companion and I sang Birthday by the Beatles for him.

It was a very, very god night.

Something amazing.

Last night my best friend came over and we watched Sideways together.

I wasn't too impressed. I found the characters revolting. Despicable. Not that the film wasn't without good lines, I was just unhappy with the movie as a whole.

Afterwards, however, I was stunned, shocked, awed by the fact that the 10pm Simpsons episode was "The City of New York vs Homer Simpson." Here's the synopsis from thesimpsons.com:

New York City to Homer Simpson: Drop dead! When Barney steals Homer's car and leaves it illegally parked between the Twin Towers, Homer and his family are forced to go to the Big Apple to retrieve it. Homer confesses that he has hated New York ever since a bad experience there as a young man, but Marge and the kids are excited to check the city out. Once there, Homer heads downtown to get the car while the others check out the sites. Homer finds that his car has been fitted with a boot by the police, who have also papered his windshield with piles of parking tickets. Enraged when he misses his chance to talk withthe cop responsible for the boot, Homer drives off with the thing still stuck on his car, tearing up the pavement all along Broadway. Homer uses a pile driver to break the boot, but winds up breaking much of his car in the process. After tracking down Marge and the kids and loading them into the ripped-up car, Homer speeds away from New York City, vowing never to return.

I was amazed. I figured I would never see that episode again. Does this mean we've healed as a country? Has it been long enough that we aren't afraid to show the WTC on TV?

Thoughts? Opinions? You know what to do.

Here's one for the record books:

Me: You want to go to your Order Activity Screen for that information, go under View to Orders.
Customer: I don't see that on my menu.
Me: If you click on the View menu, the first item will be Orders.
Customer: I still don't see that.
Me: What do you see?
Customer: It says View, then Orders, then Quotes with an arrow....

And then the voice in my head said "ah-aaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh!"

Expanding my horizons.

As I mentioned a couple weeks ago, I have only been to the Taste of Chicago once. I don't really care for being overcrowded and paying too much for food that I get to eat anytime I want, much less paying too much for beer I already drink. Anyways.

Not only am I going to see Morris Day and the Time at the Taste of Chicago, but I may also be attending my first ever Lollapalooza. I never wanted to go when I was in my 20's. There just wasn't enough for me to want to shell out the cash. Now, however, I think I'll have to bite the bullet. The line up is posted on their website, but here's who I'm going to see: Pixies, Billy Idol, Liz Phair, G. Love and Special Sauce, The Dandy Warhols, and Tegan and Sara. Just for shits and giggles, and if I have time, I'll swing by Cake, Widespread Panic, Digable Planets, Dinosaur Jr., and Weezer.

Not a bad deal for $85? I hope not.

The b3ta.com challenge

Every Friday, b3ta.com issuses a photoshop challenge, some of which I have posted elsewhere on this blog. This week's challenge is bad movie marketing items. I couldn't resist but to crack the hell up when I came across this one:


from www.b3ta.com
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I know, it's pretty lewd, but you have to admit that you laughed.

C'mon, I know you did.

Check out the rest at b3ta.com. They have archives, too!

I'll hold it.

There's a good reason I don't like to use public toilets- they're so dirty. Given, my bathroom may or may not be the most pristinely clean, but at least this doesn't happen.

Just had to share.

Me so sleepy.

Last night was my first night "off" in a while. By off, I mean that I didn't have plans, at least, not pressing ones, and didn't have to be anywhere or spend any money or even wear pants, if I didn't want to.

I did have work to do around the house. My desk and dining room are desperate for a makeover. I surveyed the situation with a certain amount of gloom, as it's a rather large project with lots and lots of facets I didn't want to think about.

For one thing, I tend to be a bit of a pack-rat. For some reason, I've been saving my paystubs from my current job. I don't need to. My taxes are rather straightforward, which makes it more ironic that I file said taxes so late in the year(as in, electronically, on Friday). I hadn't filed a single one since November or so. Oops. They were strewn all over my desk, which was about 3 inches deep with paper. I'm a slob, I guess, when it comes to my desk.

I am reminded of a passage from one of Kurt Vonnegut's books(I think it's Timequake, but don't remember), where he relates the story of his brother being criticized for having a messy lab. His brother taps his temple while saying "if you think this is messy, you should see what it's like in here."

I feel that way about my mind, sometimes. Okay, frequently. I believe in the associative nature of the brain, similar to Freud. Was I a Freudian psych major? Nope. I don't believe that a progressive science should automatically fall into only two schools of thought. That's like trying to describe the world in the Life Line exercise from Donnie Darko. But I digress. My feelings about the human psyche are so well documented in this blog, I'd be wasting time discussing it again.

Anyways, now that I've completely strayed off topic.

I managed to get started on rearranging the living room, but I also realized how damn exhausted I was(all play and work makes Dave a tired boy), and wound up sitting on the couch by about 9:15, fighting to keep my eyelids open. I lost the good fight, friends. I wound up under the covers, sleeping with my glasses and the TV on. Then the phone started ringing, but, as always, no one, ever, is to blame. My friends know that it's very rare that I'm in bed at a proper time. They also know that I'm usually awake for 18 or 19 hours each day, so it's a pretty good bet that if you call, I'll be awake to answer.

I slept pretty well, too. I had my room nice and cold, and my cat cuddled, as she is apt to do, right up against me. I'm sure we were obnoxiously cute. Then, my internal alarm clock, which rarely, if ever, allows me to sleep more than 6 and a half hours in a row, woke me up nice and early. Oops. Mia was not happy with the abridged cuddle session, but I'm sure she'll get over it.

But morning has broken, and the futures and options traders of the world need me.

Only one man could get away with this.

An excerpt from an e-mail from my father:

I take it that you snuck under the cover of early-morning, pre-dawn darkness to draw the picture on the underpass.

(Way to go.)

He is referring to this "phenomenon", located just 2 miles from my house here in scenic Chicago. Not being one swayed by faith or believing in any kind of god or anything, I find it funny, not sacred.

I know, I'm so evil. It should be noted, of course, that my father was called a heretic in the MN State Senate once- for disputing the need to teach creationism in schools.

That's why he's my hero.

How's your life?

In progress.

That's probably my favorite line from Grosse Pointe Blank. I've never been sure why. Probably because it's a very good answer to one of those questions that never seems to be properly answered. It also happens to be exactly how I feel right now.

This is what a budding new romance does for your humble narrator. Of course, there are other tides making my life a bit more pleasant, up to and including the arrival of a nice tax refund check and the arrival of my best friend as my roommate. My new bike and knee are working very well, too.

Is everything coming up Milhouse? For now, yes.

Habemus Loganam

That's right. I'm here.

I've just been distracted today. In a good way, to be sure. Hungover, a little. But all is well and good in my world.

I even have a karaoke machine to use for pub quiz, so tomorrow I won't sound like something the cat dragged in, coughed up, then buried under the couch.

More later.

Breaking my arm while patting myself on the back.

This may not happen again for the rest of the season, so I figure I better ride out the fame while I've got it.

I am presently in first place in my fantasy baseball league. Me. Hm. Stranger things have happened, I guess.


From Yahoo! Fantasy Baseball
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Sometime today I'll post something with some actual substance to it.

Next week on South Park: Logan's Dave

A fabo time waster I found over at Cowgirl Up, the South Park character creator. I decided to create a couple characters for myself:


Angry Dave
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Beatnik Dave?
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Still a beatnik?
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What a shpadoinkle weekend.

This weekend's cycling logged about 85 miles or so. I think it's closer to 90, but I didn't have a computer installed on my wonderful new bike until Sunday morning, when I pushed myself to do 50 miles. I did not, however, bike over a state line this weekend. That's going to be next Saturday's goal- down to Hammond, Indiana, and back. Yummy!

On the whole, I took it pretty easy this weekend. I had a barbeque on Friday at my friends A & J's house, where I was the featured griller for the third time this year. I made some kickass hamburgers, chicken, and even tried my hand at grilling salmon- with some coaching from those who have actually cooked fish before. I'm told it turned out wonderful.

In addition to blowing away the grilling critics, I managed to get so much done this weekend- sadly, there are still projects that require much attention, but I feel pretty good about what I got done. I topped it off with last night's pub quiz, where not only did I get to see some old friend I haven't seen in a while, but my team absolutely kicked ass, winning by almost 20 points over second place.

And this week, while it stands to be one of my busier weeks in the foreseeable future, should be rewarding. At least, I sure hope so.

Happy tax day.

I, for one, hate doing my taxes. I don't believe in them. I don't like them.

Mind you, I rarely, if ever, actually owe taxes, but it's just a huge pain in the ass. A few years back I ran into a couple lawyer friends at Hopleaf in Andersonville around about tax day. Back in the 1700's we probably would have been called revolutionaries. Now, I'm pretty sure the term would be drunken dilettantes, but that is beside the point. After discussing(read: having a nice, productive bitch session about) the US tax system for a while, wham, bam, hey presto, out of the cigarette smoke and the 10% alcohol beer and our collective intellect, comes the groundwork for a constitutional amendment eliminating the necessity for all this paperwork done in the first four months of the year.

The best part was that it was a fair tax. A flat tax. It was glorious.

Unfortunately, it is never likely to cast its shadow on any legistlative body's floor, as none of us have political aspirations, and even if we did, we're a rather motley bunch with skeletons hiding in our respective closets. Oh well. I guess that we, as a country, will have to suffer through the broken, malodorous system until some with actual power realizes that the system needs fixing.

Wanna buy my bike?

I'm parting with my Giant Cypress. It's a near mint comfort-road hybrid, 17" frame(should fit riders 5'7" to 5'11"). I have a Sigma computer installed, pneumatic seat post and front shocks. I'm asking $200. You know how to contact me.


My Bike(for sale!)
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Trunk Monkey.

My birthday-boy father sent me this today.

I'm still laughing at it. Especially #4, although dad prefers #5.

Just who the hell am I?

I just had a caller refer to me by three different names. In the same phone call.

So, the question is, am I Dwayne, Dan, or Dave?

At least he gets a couple letters right, no?

Happy birthday, Daddio Popsarelli*.

Today is my father's **st birthday today. Big, big happy birthday wishes to him on his special day.

April 14th, as it turns out, is rather rich with history. It is the day Lincoln was shot, the day the Titanic struck an iceburg, the day the US bombed Lybia, and the day the USSR withdrew from Afghanistan, to name a few. Of course, I knew most of this already, but it's all listed on the History Channel's webpage.

*not that you needed further explanation of my hockey obsession, but I gave my dad this nickname, after Dino Ciccarelli, my favorite childhood hockey player, when I was about 8 or so.

Cracking me up.

Because I'm usually bored around this time of the morning, but don't really want to get any of my many personal projects started yet, I was about to log onto myspace.com and see if there was any reason to have done so. They have sections on their website where you can find "cool new people." I found it amusing that the two that were paired up on the login page happened to make the name of a celebrity:

From myspace.com
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Then again, I am a admitted geekus maximus with a sense for the absurd.

My friends.

You know when you've made it to the inner circle in my world?

I'll let you know.

You get your own folder in my gmail account. One to call your own, to write me to your heart's content.

That's the secret.

The continuing story of the red half-ton truck.

Needless to say, after oversleeping and all this morning, I was out the door a little late. Who, dear reader, is pulling down Wolcott like the idiot yahoo he is? Mr. Red Half-Ton Toyota truck himself. The guy who lost his topper one morning, and after it stayed on my streetcurb for a few days, it was hauled away by someone else.

I watched him as he motored up Wolcott, then turned on my street, again, without stopping at the stopsign. Fortunately for me, I had already crossed and was standing on the corner, giving him the finger. I am nothing if not expressive of my emotions.

A hoarse is a hoarse of course

I woke up this morning to a 45 degree(about 7 C) bedroom. It was so nice. My cat was snuggling nicely against me, and I was curled up into a comfy ball of Dave. Unfortunately I had slept far too little, and was groggy. Then I remembered that I needed to wake up, no matter what, and get my day started. After brushing my teeth, I decided to see if my voice still sounded like the Kurgan from Highlander. I was rather relieved to find that I wasn't nearly as bad as I was the night before, when my friends were telling me to shut up not because they didn't want to hear what I had to say, but because they thought I might do more damage.

Today I sound more like Michael Wincott, who I just discovered is from Ontario. I'd say it sounds sexy, but I don't think it is. I feel like I've been working in a diner for 60 years and smoking 3 packs a day.

Other than that, though, I'm in a good mood.

Pub Quiz and Lemon Tea

I'm home, finally from my weekly pub quiz. I'm tired.

Tomorrow will be especially bad, however, because of my voice. I lost it somewhere between rounds 3 and 5- during two rounds I usually don't have to speak during.

So, not only am I breaking, for the umpteenth time, my new year's resolution, but I'm also breaking training by having hard liquor. A little Ketel One in my lemon tea. Mostly because it's cold, partially because it's alcohol, but mostly because it flavors my tea. No sugar at this point. It's time for bed and all that.

More tomorrow about, well, everything. Now, I need my tea and my bed.

Huh?

I see by the big board(that is, the little clock on my computer) that it is almost 12:30. Huh. Where did the time go?

I haven't accomplished anything, haven't even finished pub quiz for tonight yet. It's been busy, but no more than usual. What the hell happened to my day?

Hm.

Well, that first bit was really filler. I feel like I should update y'all on some choices I've made lately, in an attempt to improve my health and get my training in full swing.

1) No more soda. I have had one soda in the last 2 weeks. It's all water now.

2) No more TV dinners. They're convenient as hell for work, but I've got to stop eating processed foods. Of course, I haven't been cooking at home, so I'm not really improving my diet by eating out. At least I'm trying to avoid the fatty stuff around here, though.

3) Cutting down on booze. I still go out on weekends, but I'm usually heading home by about 11 or 12- not going home and straight to bed, mind you, but getting home so I'm not tempted to keep the evening rolling, a frequent danger, especially with my crazy friends. No more 4am bar closings for a while.

So, it's a start. I'm sure my doctor will be thrilled with the results, too, as will my heart, my friends, and my family, who worry too damn much about me.

I've got butt cream!

Disclaimer: There's some low-brow humor in this morning's entry, then some real stuff.

My friend T, at the end of day one of the MS Ride, announced this loudly, and casually, in a group of about 20 people or so, mostly riders. Fortunately, riders know what butt cream is, and aren't going to think he's weird.

Which, of course, is far from the truth. Once, we were at a Cub's game at Wrigley, in the mens' room under the bleachers, um, recycling our beer. From one of the stalls I hear my dear friend call out "Corn? I don't remember eating corn!" I was laughing so hard people were looking at me funny.


Anyways.

It was a great weekend- wonderful riding weather. Jen and I went out Saturday morning for a bike ride, which wound up being about 32 miles or so. It was a touch cold, but we did just fine. Even stopped at my boss' house to replenish water supplies. Caught a little bit of a sunburn on my legs, but still went back for more on Sunday. For the first time this year, I rode the entire lakefront bike path and had a blast. I did the whole thing in just over an hour, and felt great. I probably finished the day at about 35 miles.

Afterwards, I just wanted to pass out. I was tired. I needed rest, so on my ass I went, in front of the TV for an hour before I realized I smelled so bad I needed a shower. There's something about the combination of sweat and suntan lotion that's just horrible. Blech.

But I feel great. It's so nice to be back on a bike again, and not have as much pain as I did last year, pre-surgery. It's nice to be almost normal in the knees. Stress almost.

I am, as always, a work in progress.

May 19th is only 41 days away.

Do you think your average Storm Trooper knows how to install a toilet main?

From www.b3ta.com
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Movie Review(a week late): Sin City

Last Friday night I braved the rains and the Purple Line to make my way to Evanston to see Sin City. From the opening scene, I knew I was going to love this movie.

It's the subtle things that I think a lot of people don't recognize. Like Marley Shelton's eyes turning green, then fading slowly back into black & white. I was electrified. This movie is visually amazing- each scene is stunningly shot. It is also intense and violent- but not gory- at least, not in a way you can really tell, as the colors are frequently(not always) changed from blood red to other colors. I think that saved the movie, honestly. My companion and I had an amazing time, and had to spend some time processing the event before we could intelligibly discuss the film(read: we said "wow" for the first half hour of drinks afterwards).

It's worth seeing, very much so.

Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey.

I'm not sure what it is. Actually, I'm pretty sure what it is, but I'm really damn exhausted. Methinks Joey has it right. This is what Daylight Savings feels like. Coupled with my recent bout with my medication, and my crazy life, I haven't slept much this week.

It's ruining my lovely baritone voice, too. Well, that, and my two days in a row of shouting at the Globe, first for pub quiz, then for my MS Ride meeting on Wednesday. I was marginally annoyed by some soccer fans who, for reasons unbeknownst to my team and I, needed to listen to their match at a rather loud volume, causing me to have to shout over that. Not fun. I'm starting to sound like Bruce Weber. I may have to skip karaoke this weekend so my voice can be ready for next week's big party.

We shall see.

Logan's Angry Dave

I've been trying to be good lately, with having a short temper. It's something that is a constantly improving aspect of my character. I've written about it so many times I'll just give you this link. I was going to mention the bad effects that my medication can have on me, but I can't find an entry for it right now. What happens, and why there are such glaring warnings on the bottle such as "follow directions for taking this medication EXACTLY" and "Do not skip doses or stop taking this medicine without consulting your physician" is bad. Stomach cramps, intestinal pain and all kinds of less-fun symptoms follow. What I had forgot about was that my perscription was running out. Literally. I had one more pill yesterday morning, and no more refills to my name, so I had to get that taken care of. I called my doctor, my pharmacist, and made the necessary arrangements. My pharmacy was going to call me when it was ready. I waited. I got anxious, because I had a 7pm MS Ride meeting, and I wanted to eat first, so I called them at 5:30. They told me it would be ready in an hour, so I decided I could eat a hurried meal before said meeting, having picked up my perscription at 6:30.

You know what they say, the best laid plans and all that. I arrived at my pharmacy at 6:35 or so, and saw the line that had formed. Ugh. I took my place, expecting everything to be hunky-dory when I reached the counter. Finally, my impatient wait period was over, and I had the complete attention of the technician. I gave my last name, spelling it out(no one it seems can spell my last name, all of the 6 letters of it). It took 2 minutes before she came back to tell me my order wasn't filled yet and to please have a seat.

So, after a check of my watch(6:43), I sulked over to a patio furniture display in full view of the counter and pretended to be content. Grumble. Finally, after text messages and phone calls about my whereabouts, another check of the watch(6:57), the technician asked for my last name again. I repeated, allowing a bit of steam to be burned off with a rather insolent tone to indicate my unhappiness, my last name. "Oh, it's been ready for 5 minutes.

Five minutes. Five minutes I could have been coralling my MS Team together and getting things set for the meeting. Five minutes.

I know I shouldn't get worked up about things like that. I have a friend who is an honest-to-goodness pharmacist(not like all my "pharmacist" friends from college), and I know the job is more than just counting pills and measuring chemicals. But right then and there, as my blood sugar is dropping and the two year old in line keeps crying and I'm stuck listening to muzak that makes me want to jump out the window and go running to the christian bookstore across the street naked and shouting obscenities, I was pissy.

Isn't it an amazing bit of the human psyche that despite all the other, much graver injustices in the world, a simple wait of 22 minutes can become the worst possible thing to ever happen to a person?

Damn!

This summer I will attending, for only the second time ever, the Taste of Chicago. The first time was for passes for Elvis Costello. This time around, I'll be seeing none other than Morris Day and the Time. June 29.

This is extra special for me, as an impressionable youth living in St. Paul, I saw Purple Rain who knows how many times. And yes, I did the dance. And yes, with a little practice, I could do it again. No promises, though.

Should I say or should I not?

I hate teasing my readers. But, I just spent 40 minutes writing one of my longest posts ever.

But I'm afraid to post it. It's rather personal and could create some problems.

Quandry.

Let me suffice it to say that it's someone's birthday and I wrote a post about her.

Idea for a book:
All I Ever Needed to Know I Learned From My Ex-Girlfriends
By Logan's Dave

I am not, nor am I capable of becoming, a vegetarian.

Taste in music can break up a couple, especially if one is on a listener advisory board for the greatest radio station in the world.

Summer dresses drive me crazy.

I can be closed, emotionally, and sometimes it is for the best.

I prefer honest women over everything else.

Older women are ideal to me- I feel more in touch with them than women even my own age.

It is possible to take off a one-piece bathing suit in less than 3 seconds, if properly done.

It is possible to redress yourself in less than 6 seconds, if properly done, when your friend walks in the room, only if you're really good. Watch that zipper.

A sense of humor is paramount.

I don't like hiking. Camping, canoeing, fine, hiking, no.

The missionary position is not good on knees, especially when preformed a) in bathtubs, b) on floors or c) in cars.

Women who like movies and concerts are great. Women who like hockey are keepers.

Love knows no boundaries.

Never hang wallpaper with someone you love(this was actually passed down from my parents, but I felt it was good for the list).

I like to cook, but that doesn't mean I'm good at it.

I am inexplicably attracted to theatre majors.

I don't usually date blondes, but it's never stopped me.

Never plan a surprise party when her friends are just as likely to want to surprise you. They will.

Brains always wins out over beauty.

Love me, love my cat. It's a rule.

Sharing a bathroom is a hazardous endeavor.

Religous parents don't like me, and are not likely to change their minds.

Women who appreciate a shaved head are definitely keepers.

This list is by no means over. I'm just running low on time at work. More either later, or tomorrow. Depending on inspiration.

April Fool's Dave

It truely is a day full of fools around here. Here's a sample:

Me: Just click on Refresh.
Customer: Refresh?
Me: The refresh button in your Internet Explorer.
Customer: There's a refresh button? Where?
Me: It's one of the buttons on your Internet Explorer- you know, Back, Forward, Stop, Refresh and Home?
Customer: There's a refresh button?

I wish I were kidding. Another:

Customer: After I place the order, it shows up in the working orders screen, but not in fills and positions.
Me: That's right. You won't see it in the fills and positions window until the order is filled.
Customer: But why is it in working orders?
Me: Because it is an unfilled, working order.
Customer: And what does the fills and positions show?
Me: Orders that have been filled and previous positions. Fills and positions.

These people amaze me. How do they actually remember to breathe?

By any other name, it's still Dave.

My co-worker and fellow Literati hooligan B came up with a new nickname for me. I thought it would be fun to actually try to list all the nicknames I've been known by over the years:

Skinnybones(grade school)
Trackmaster(junior high)
Indigo(high school)
Maurice(college and on the ISCA BBS)
delta Dave(Kaplan)
PokeDave(Tower)
Johnny McCash(Tower)
Dr. StrangeDave(Tower)
Logan's Dave(blog)
Quizzle Master Dave da Inquisitor(Refco)

I'm sure I've left some out, but that's a good list.

QMD da I is the latest and greatest, FYI.

Communication.

I had a bad day yesterday. Not to harp on my unhappiness, but I was pissy. As I was watching the Simpsons and hearing one of my all-time favorite lines "Wow! It's like being married to Shaft!" I made the well informed and educated decision to go out on a piss. Here's how(I remember) the conversation went down between my best friend and myself:

Me: Hey.
J: Hey.
Me: I just made the well-informed and educated decision to go out on a piss. Wanna come along?
J: Are you on your way here?
Me: I'm on my way to the Globe. I'm starving.
J: OK.
Me: I'm gonna order some food and a drink. I'll see you when you get there.

What I love about my friends, especially my best friend, is our communication. We know what we need to talk about. There's no need for small talk, we just get to the point and we're on our way. Small talk, if necessary, can be done face-to-face.

And the good news is, she's moving into my apartment! Huzzah!