What's a pirate's favorite website?

I don't know, but you should check this out:

My pirate name is:

Iron Roger Flint

A pirate's life isn't easy; it takes a tough person. That's okay with you, though, since you a tough person. Like the rock flint, you're hard and sharp. But, also like flint, you're easily chipped, and sparky. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from fidius.org.

"Would you let him skateboard?"

I know you're all ready for something about my jaunt to the bayous, but first, I give you an excerpt from my current reading, Angels and Demons, by Dan Brown. I've read a lot since I started it last Saturday, and it's a very entertaining book. I can safely say that it's a good book, and I recommend it.

While I know the religion debate among our motley crew has died down, and is on ceasefire, or whatever, and although I don't exactly see eye to eye with the doctrine, this passage struck a chord with me, in light of recent conversations I've had:


Chartrand took a deep breath. “I don’t understand this whole omnipotent-benevolent thing.”
The camerlengo smiled. “You’ve been reading Scripture.”
“I try.”
“You are confused because the Bible describes God as an omnipotent and benevolent deity.”
“Exactly.”
“Omnipotent-benevolent simply means that God is all-powerful and well-meaning”
“I understand the concept. It’s just...there seems to be a contradiction.”
“Yes. The contradiction is pain. Man’s starvation, war, sickness…”
“Exactly!” Chatrand knew the camerlengo would understand. “Terrible things happen in this world. Human tragedy seems like proof that God could not possibly be both all-powerful and well-meaning. If He loves us and has the power to change our situation, He would prevent our pain, wouldn’t He?”
The camerlengo frowned. “Would He?”
Chartrand felt uneasy. Had he overstepped his bounds? Was this one of those religious questions you just didn’t ask? “Well…if God loves us, and He can protect us, He would have to. It seems He is either omnipotent and uncaring, or benevolent and powerless to help.”
“Do you have children, Lieutenant?”
Chartrand flushed. “No, signore.”
“Imagine you had an eight-year-old son…would you love him?”
“Of course.”
“Would you do everything in your power to prevent pain in his life?”
“Of course.”
“Would you let him skateboard?”
Chartrand did a double take. The camerlengo always seemed oddly “in touch” for a clergyman. “Yeah, I guess,” Chartrand said. “Sure, I’d let him skateboard, but I’d tell him to be careful.”
“So as this child’s father, you would give him some basic, good advice and then let him go off and make his own mistakes?”
“I wouldn’t run behind him and mollycoddle him if that’s what you mean.”
“But what if he fell and skinned his knee?”
“He would learn to be more careful.”
The camerlengo smiled. “So although you have the power to interfere and prevent your child’s pain, you would choose to show your love by letting him learn his own lessons?”
“Of course. Pain is part of growing up. It’s how we learn.”
The camerlengo nodded. “Exactly.”

P. 361-362, Angels and Demons, by Dan Brown

Not Quite a Suicide Squeeze

I'm posting tonight not so much because I have anything to say, or that I want to, but I think I need to squeeze a little something in before I depart for the bayou.

Let's see...I finished Lord of the Flies last night. Wow. That is one great book. It now takes its place among the pantheon of my favorite books. The message of the book is along the lines of Heart of Dearkness (one of those other favorites), but I think Lord of the Flies tells it better, simply because of the fact that the characters are little kids, none older than 15. Don't get me wrong, I still love Heart of Darkness; it's just no longer my sole favorite state of nature/human atavism story. So, it's on to Angels and Demons as promised. I'll keep you updated there, whether you like it or not. After that, it's the third Halo book, then Paycheck, by Philip K. Dick. I figure that ought to take me up to the school year, where my recreational reading goes pllilijaoiwehdnsiekdl. I figure then I can take up some quick, less intensive books, like maybe some more of the Area 51 books. We'll see.



I served an ungreatful ass today at work. He happened to come as I was taking a bathroom break, so I couldn't really answer the intercom, and he had to wait a bit. As I walked back up to the coffee bar, the deli manager mouthed "He is MAD" to me. I greeted the fellow in my normal cordial fashion, and he put his arms up and said "Hey, I was starting to wonder," all indignant-like. "I mean, I've been standing here what, four or five minutes?"

I thought about telling him where I was. What, a guy goes to work for six hours, and can't take a bathroom break halfway through? But in the end, I thought better.
"What can I do for you, sir?" I called him sir. I don't think it helped.

"What can you do for me? I'll tell you what you can do for me: I came in here about a week ago, and there were grounds in my coffee!"

"There were?" Blunder, outrage! Why didn't you complain a week ago? "Well here, let me get you a free cup then." The customer is always right.

"You know, instead of coffee, I think I want to go with something different [read: more expensive]. I think I'll have a mocha frappucino, a venti." Annoying. "And can I get a double espresso shot in that?" On my nerves. "Oh, and double mocha." Ass.

I went on making his drink. I went to hand it to him. "That's double mocha, right?"

"Uh huh." It wasn't. "Sorry about all the trouble, sir." He is still, after all, the customer.

"Oh, it's no problem." Now that you've got your $5.50 drink for free?

After he left, Laura, the deli manager, came back up. "I'm sorry I had to keep paging you, but he was just being an asshole. 'I've been standing there, and last week, blah blah blah.'" Yeah, he was an ass.



Well, anyway, I suppose it turns out this was a worthwhile post after all. Louisiana's going to be fun; it'll be nice to have a break from work. One thing's sure though, I'll need a good dose of Meagan when I get back. I'll also need to start learning the music for Pride tryouts, but that's less fun. So, anyway, have a good week, everyone. I'll have a trip recap shortly after we get back.

Strange but true...

Take notes kids; this one might show up on Jeopardy:

The Strangest Dining Experience Ever, or Look, I'm Rodknee, Two Posts a Day

The other day, Meagan and I were going out, and we decided we'd have dinner at Kendall's, because we were supposed to do it for Tuesday Lunchday, but nobody could go. At any rate, we went and were promptly seated in a surprisingly bare main dining room. On the window, there was a posterboard declaring that Kendall's is moving to Purcell.

"What's all this Purcell business?" I asked our friendly server.

"Today is our last day in Norman," he replied.

Crikey. I was planning on getting something new, but after that, it had to be the chicken fried steak. Boy, was it fabulous. As we ate, mourning our city's loss, we watched Kendall's come down, piece by piece. The T.V., the "Immediate Seating Available" sign, the very posterboard declaring the move, it all came down. Before my eyes, I saw all my favorite posters come down, first The Klotschville Crusher, or whatever he is, then Amanda Danger...they all came off the wall. As we were getting up to pay, I looked the Arab with the pizza in the face for the last time. When we walked by the door again, he was gone.

Meagan and I were the last customers at the Norman Kendall's. The fact that I can say something like that just boggles my mind. It is truly a dining experience I will never forget.

"Will you be following us down to Purcell?" the girl who rang us up asked us.

Well, yes, yes I will. I can't deprive myself of The Crusher, Amanda Danger, the Arab with the pizza, and of course, the best chicken fried steak ever. If anyone wants to trek down to Purcell for some grub, give me a holler.

The Most Useful List Ever

Okay, people, Shawn sent me this great thing:

This brings me to something. Yes, that's right, the rules for calling people's beds.

1. If it's your bed, you get it, no questions asked.
2. You can kick people out of your bed.
3. Generally, just friends spooning without permission is not, well, permitted.
4. Just friends spooning with permission, hey, go for it kid.
5. MURDER IS BAD!
6. If the owner of the bed is not present for the night, and they will never find out about it, go for it, kid...and by go for it, I do not mean, um, carnally. Yeah, I mean, sleepily.
7. If the bed is a tempurpedic, and is in the possession of one Alex English, he should give it to his dear friend Richard, in exchange for a cookie.
8. When using other people's beds, try to avoid leaving bodily fluids behind. We do not want this to look like a Dateline NBC hotel special.

Okay, so I guess this was less about calling beds, and more about just using them...so here you go:

9. When someone declares his or her bed open for the night, the first one in the same residence as the bed who calls it gets the bed.

That's more "now" than usual.

Ahora la Chinga Mismo!

In Memoriam

Well, it finally happened. When Sean and I went golfing on Thursday, I lost my dragon. The following is a memorial to that disk that served me so well, through the good times and the bad.

Ah, when I bought my dragon, it was so pretty, all yellow with silvery markings, and no horrible dents or scars. It was the first disk I bought, and a good purchase it was. I made some wonderful throws with that little beauty, and for the two horrible throws that came along with every wonderful one, I was able to fish it out of the creek due to its lovely buoyancy.

Does anyone remember the time the dragon got run over by a truck? Boy, I sure do. Those tire marks never really faded completely away. I never liked that hole 11. The poor thing just sat in the road and the truck barreled right over it. I couldn't really say if the driver saw the thing or not. Of course, I could say "Hey, my disk got run over by a truck!" How fun is that?

Then there was the lovely drive I made on hole 1 with the aide of a tree. I wheeled around as I ran up, flung an errant shot into the air, but it struck the tree on the way out, which righted its flight and sent it ten feet from the hole. The guys behind us were just like "Nice shot!" and I was just thinking "Thank you, trees."

Who could forget the time that fat kid tried to steal my poor dragon? Probably most of you, but not me. He picked it up, I said "Little thief!" and then he dropped it. Ah, good times.

I never did like that hole 11. The hole that gave the dragon its first major scar is the one that ended up taking it. I heaved my drive into the very top of the tree with the flag in it. Thanks to the crazy vine that's growing all over it, it didn't come down. I climbed up to retrieve it, but in the end, I just couldn't climb high enough. So, someone more monkey-like, or with a better arm now has my dragon, and I am forced to get dragon #2. There's no way I'm going to play without a floating driver; I'd lose so many disks.

The only positive in this is that it happened on the day I bought another driver. It's an archangel, its blue, and on my first throw with it on hole 1, I made my best drive ever. It was about four feet from the hole, and I didn't screw up the birdie. So, there's hope for the future anyway.

------------------------

The other day, Sean and I saw an old Pontiac Sunfire with spinners. It was a hoot, but it also got me thinking, What if?....

Episode II: Pimp My Stanza

Vital Information for Your Everyday Life

We all know salt in an open wound hurts.

Coffee grounds in an open wound hurt just as much, maybe even more. Consider yourself warned.



Unfortunately, I got a slow start to reading this summer. Normally, during the summer I fly through books, but this year, with all these interesting people and this distracting technology around, I've not been reading nearly as much. It took me until late June to finish my first book of the summer. The good news is since then, I've practically been on a reading frenzy! Here's what I've got so far:


Rising Sun, by Michael Chrichton
A murder mystery and a commentary on Japanese business culture in the U.S. which I enjoyed thoroughly. Incidentally, none of the regular readers of this blog would enjoy it, so I'm not recommeding it.






Slaughterhouse Five, by Kurt Vonnegut
WWII sci-fi commentary. It seemed the whole time that the author had no idea where he wanted the story to go, and yet, that doesn't matter one bit. It's a good read, and a quick read.






Currently halfway through:
Lord of the Flies, by William Golding
British Schoolboys marooned on a deserted island in the South Pacific set up their own society. It's a compelling book, and I'm compelled to finish it.





Soon Moving on to:
Angels and Demons, by Dan Brown
Highly recommended by my sister and mom, and all those crazy Da Vinci Code fans running around out there.



Yay for putting small dents in the list.

Blarg. Ducks never listen.

I've decided that I like the morning shift at work. It's busier, but the tips seem to be better, and the morning regulars ask you if you are new, and you get to tell them that you've been there nearly a year. Also, when afternoon regulars come in, you get to see their surprised faces. Then, there's the fact that people order more hot drinks than frappucinos. Yay for that. Anyway, after work, I was browsing around the internet, and ran across quite a little gem. People have asked me "What's up with 'Blarg!'?" or something along those lines. Well, this guy sums it up better than I've ever seen. He really gets it. He should, considering it's his liscence plate. He does use "erg" where I would use "arg," but I'm just glad I'm not the only user of 'blarg' out there.



Speaking of blarg, I almost had an opportunity to swim with a duck last night. Imagine that, paddling around the water with a duck, in his element. How cool is that?

Alas, 'twasn't to be. The little brown duck that wandered over to the pool, quacking its little head off at us (Meagan named him Marvin), just wouldn't come into the water. We got out of the pool and tried to herd him in, but instead he freaked out, took wing and flapped his way down to the creek. So, I guess I'll just have to wait until next time to swim with a duck. Maybe Marvin will come back.