Will Blog For Wine

The Death of a Blog

2006-01-09T18:10:00.000-08:00

Brothers and sisters, we are gathered here today to remember "Will Blog For Wine"...

I've decided this is going to be the last post to my blog. I'm not killing it for the normal reasons - I could probably find time to post and god knows I love prattling on and on about whatever random ass topics I think are important in life. In fact, I really love having a blog. I'll probably reincarnate it in some other form at some point down the road, but more focused on technology or wine or food or something less controversial. Something sanitized. Something that, when Googled, brings back "wow, that was an excellent side of pork I had with dinner last night, accompanied by 1.5 glasses of watered down white zinfandel. And then my wife drove home to our 2.5 kids and we lived happily ever after."

I'm killing it because of life. In today's world, the first thing a recruiter does is Google you. Try looking yourself up some time, it might scare you. Pull me up and you get link after link to a paper I wrote that's been translated into 4 languages. Sandwiched right in between an article from the WSJ and some foreign policy mag. That's cool. But, what would I do if somebody I don't know found this site? "Bomb Mecca into next year and make the Middle East a parking lot. Affirmative action discriminates against white people like me, who all of a sudden have to get better grades and pay their application fees because they were born white instead of black. I drink A LOT of wine." All great things for a potential recruiter to see. Even better, 20 years from now, maybe I'm running for Congress. "Mr. AK, can you comment on your statements as a 32 year old, indicating that fat people should be chained to treadmills and forced to run until they lose weight?"

It's hard to get motivated when everything you want to say can be, and will be, used against you in a court of public opinion. I can't mention the name of the school I go to, because it's a top 20 MBA school and a lot of people search for it. I can't talk about my former firm because it's ahhh in the news right now, to put it mildly. I can't I can't even swear without getting a polite letter from my favorite Bob Jones grad. If she wasn't the greatest chef known to man, I'd probably have some issues. It all boils down to a simple idea - the advent of blogging brings accountability to the masses. For those people that thrive off being the wild card, it's great; for those that are trying to get ahead in life, it's a liability. We live in a country that prides itself on freedom of speech, but how free are you in the corporate world? Newslfash: you're not. You're free to conform, free to kiss somebody's ass, free to not make waves. Go ahead, sing amongst yourselves. "In the high school halls, in the shopping malls. Conform or be cast out..."

So, as quietly as I came into the blogosphere, I'm leaving it. The saddest part? I'm drinking a really crappy bottle of wine. Just kills me. 2003 Turley Duarte zin. I'm probably one of the biggest Turley cheerleaders on the planet and this thing just strikes me as mediocre. I've got $40 to spend on a bottle of wine like I need a hole in the head. Guess that's the way it goes, eh?

Thank you for reading. - AK

Ann Coulter Gets Abused, Again

2005-12-08T06:34:00.000-08:00

My favorite story of the day.
http://www.cnn.com/2005/US/12/08/coulter.row.ap/index.html

I fail to understand why so many people scream about free speech, support racist buffoons like Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton and Louis Farrakhan, but then go absolutely ballistic when someone like Ann Coulter gets behind a microphone. Sure, she's a little confrontational and a bit of a whack, but nowhere near the to the extreme that three stooges mentioned above are. Yet Ann Coulter gets booed off the stage at UConn and hit with pies at Arizona. You don't see sites like this WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT for Jesse Jackson. Somebody would get sued into oblivion by the NAACP AND their ISP. The double standard today is just ridiculous.

I know, I know. Just how I feel. Yippee.

Being Responsible = Being and Idiot

2005-12-04T23:20:00.000-08:00

Tonight is such a frustrating night.

Finals start next week and I have 2 huge assignments due tomorrow, one on Tuesday and oh, by the way, a resume drop for the job of my dreams. I do the responsible thing, of course, and give up the free ticket that was handed to me 60 mins before the game (I'm on campus, no less) and drive home to watch the game on ESPN while I pound this thing out.

Oops. Sunday night footballis on ESPN. I'll flip to ESPN 2. World Series of Poker. Then a rodeo. Duke is going to beat the living crap out of VT and ESPN 2 is showing a @#$% rodeo. Turns out the game is on FSN, which is a premium cable package that I'd never pay for, considering I'm at 95% of the home games and they're always on ESPN.

Fine. I'll check the game online. Duke is losing? *refresh* *refresh* 2 hours go by. My finger is numb, the F5 key is broken and some asshole in a red wig and suspenders is chasing a bull around on ESPN2. 75-74. The answer to your question is 327. The question? "How many times can you hit F5 during a full timeout?" Dockery from 40 feet for the swish. I've seen it at least 100 times now on the replays. I can actually see my buddies running on to the floor (grad section is behind the Duke 2nd half basket). And I'm sitting here at home with an accounting book. I don't even have a bottle of wine open.

At least I'm not a Virginia Tech fan.

Cyberhugs

2005-11-29T03:06:00.000-08:00

Cyberhugs

Things that kill me about this story:

"devised a vibration jacket for chickens" Does the jacket just vibrate your chicken, or can it choke it, too? Why do chickens need to be vibrated? Are you trying to shake out an extra egg?
"wireless jacket for chickens or other pets" Wow, I thought putting little outfits on your dog was bad. Now you want to put a vibrating jacket on him so he can feel hugged? Press the button and virtually hug your dog when he's marking a fire hydrant. Nice.
Talk about latch key kids. "Sweetie, put on your shake and bake jacket so mommy can hug you over the internet. I'll see you at 9:00 PM!"
"Parents wearing a similar suit could be hugged back." I think it's safe to say I love my kid as much as, or more than, most other people out there. If you think I'm jumping into a vibrating pajama suit for an internet hug when I'm on a business trip, thing again. "Really, Mr. Airport Security. It's a vibrating hug suit. Do YOU need a hug today?"
And finally... "Scientists looking for ways to transmit the sense of touch over the internet have devised vibration boxer shorts. Former president Bill Clinton, the company's spokesperson, claimed 'I love 'em! If you've ever wanted to reach and out touch the President, well now you have a chance from the comfort of your own home!'" Coming soon!

Post-Thanksgiving

2005-11-28T03:24:00.000-08:00

I know, I know. I've completely neglected the blog. The worse part is that once you start losing momentum, people stop coming back to read. So, I'm probably posting for my own edification here. Blah.

I suppose you are tired of hearing "life is crazy." If it's any consolation, I'm tired of typing it. I've been stuck in this never-ending cycle of being sick, getting over being sick and then being sick again, probably due to a lack of a sleep and my daughter's daily exposures to every strain of illness under the sun when she hits the playgroups with her fellow booger-rollers and nose miners. I swear, they're always catching something and then sniffling for a week. If a 2 year old wrote an autobiography, it would be "My Life as a Walking Petri Dish," subtitled "I Made a Poopie!"

School is going as well as can be expected. I'm not really sure how I'm supposed to balance all the things I'm supposed to be balancing (school, work, basketball games) and be a husband/dad. I think I've resigned myself to doing a mediocre job at all of them and hoping I hit the lotto some day. Perhaps I should start buying tickets? This term has been particularly brutal, with both finance and accounting in the same term, with marketing strategy and a speech class tossed in for good humor. I love the marketing strategy class, but it REALLY is a lot of work and the prof loves to cold call. Nothing like wandering through vineyards in my mind and getting called on to answer "what is the breakeven number of doses for Angiomax, based on the 4 page calculation you did last night?" "Uh, pinot noir. Yeah, that's it, pinot noir. No? That's not it? Would you believe 'Secretariat'? Oh, a number. 49?"

Adopt-a-soldier program is going well. I think we're up to 26 guys covered with packages (out of 34) and cheers go out to PWC for taking 12 guys in one fell swoop. I need to go to the post office today to drop off 2 more going out to Matt, who will be drinking Red Bull and eating three-bean stew (yes, I sent 6 cans of beans and a huge thing of salsa) for the next 2 weeks. Hey, who needs candy when you can have THREE BEAN STEW?!? If you're interested in writing letters or sending a care package, email me.

Other than that, I'll be doing the West Coast tour soon. San Jose, Portland, Seattle and Las Vegas! AK is coming soon to a city near you!

Old Singers

2005-11-12T05:49:00.000-08:00

Couple of years back, I found myself on a tour bus with Smashmouth talking to Steve Harwell (friend of a really close family friend). Steve is one of the nicest guys you'll ever meet and, while he can play the role of a superstar, you just don't think of him that way when you're having an every day conversation with him. We were talking about the Tesla show I just saw (not as old as the Rolling Stones, but gray and wrinkly none the less) and he said "you know, I TOTALLY get why these guys go out on tour at 45 and 50 years old. It's not really about the money - it's about getting up on stage in front of thousands of people, hearing them scream and putting on one hell of a show again."

So, I'm sitting here writing the daily mail to my little bro and Cyndi Lauper comes on Good Morning America. She looks pretty good for however old she is and is out pushing the new album. They lead her outside to the stage and, instead of playing one of her new songs and doing the "take me seriously" thing, she starts crowing her tired old 80's stuff. Let your trueeee colorrrrrs shine on through. "Awful" would be a compliment for her performance, which struck me as something between the fat, annoying, drunk chick that ruins karaoke night and a squirrel trying to gnaw his leg off to get out off a rat trap. Lauper was dressed like a slob and spent half of the first song waving a jacket around in the air like she was angry matador. I'm not quite sure what she's been doing the last 20 years, but my guess is whatever it was, it involved a 2 pack a day cigarette habit. Jesus. I know, I know. Tell me how you really feel. Or, "you try getting up on stage and belting out a tune." I'm just calling it like I see it and I saw a train wreck on stage. On the bright side, I did get to hear Steve's new single album a couple of months back and it was NOTHING like this nightmare.

Off to the store for more chocolate pretzels. Morgan is now a pooping star and gets 3 chocolate pretzels a day. Jumping up and down and cheering after each poop is taking it's toll on this old man...

Matt in Action!

2005-11-10T04:29:00.000-08:00

Great action photo here! Link Funniest part is that it was picked up by AP and inserted in articles all over the place on the net (ABC News, etc.) that had absolutely nothing to do with the photo. What I find MOST disturbing is that he's letting the guy go without building up my ear necklace, damnit.

School is school is school. Learning a lot, and it's pretty amazing. Just a lot to do :/

Happy Halloween

2005-10-31T03:10:00.000-08:00

Happy Halloween. I’ve been up since 4:00 working on homework. No goddamn candy. And even better, I’m going to have approximately 300 booger rolling bastards dressed up as hobos, old ladies and ghosts (sheets with holes) on my doorstep tonight. Can I ask you why parents think it’s ok to dress their kids up in the world’s cheapest and most ghetto outfits one can imagine, and then snap 100,000 pictures of them so they can psychologically traumatize their children over the next 20 years? All for a couple of pieces of stale candy that was probably left in the garage since last year’s 20 lb bag purchase at Costco. And the absolute WORST part? Our parents drove us to people’s house to parade us around for their friends. Hey, Myron, check it out. I dressed up Andrew up as an 80 year old grandma. Isn’t he-she cute? Yeah, thanks a pant load mom. I’m surprised I didn’t grow up with some weird cross-dressing fetish.

(for Carolyn: Yes, I have a potty mouth this morning. 7 cups of coffee will do that to you. I'm also shaking like a fat girl in a snowstorm.)

Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Wine

2005-10-29T10:06:00.000-07:00

Forgive me, this will be a long, rambling post about everything under the sun. I'll start with a side note - anonymous comments are back now that Blogger supports word verification.

Week 1 of term 2 is finally over. It wasn't quite as bad as I thought it would be, but finance, accounting, marketing mgmt (100% case analysis) and speech can definitely take its toll. To make life worse, I tweaked my back playing volleyball on Tuesday, got sick on Wednesday and had to help the wife with the partner/faculty Halloween party on Friday. Rest assured I had a large glass of Woodford Reserve before I passed out on the couch last night... As far as grades go, I ended up with an SP, 2 HPs and a P. The P REALLY pissed me off, given I did well on the final. I guess that's life and I need to stop being so damn competitive.

Couple of current events that I just can't gloss over. Was anybody else waiting for Ahmadinejad (President of Iran) to take off his shoe and beat it on the table as he screamed "Israel must be wiped out from the map of the world." Gotta love that one. And this comes after Iran has repeatedly refused to stop their nuke program. The only thing more amazing is the fact that I have a very good friend who is Iranian, fluent in Farsi and she can't get the time of day from the FBI. She's applied twice over the last 2.5 years and her application keeps "getting lost." Now I don't know about you, but one would think that any application that rolls into the big bureaucratic morass with "FLUENT IN FARSI" might get somebody's attention. Add her MBA to the mix, and I am left, once again, completely disappointed in the way our government does things. I'm not even going to start with the whole Rove/Libby scandal. I still expect Rove to take a federal indictment bullet in the relatively near future. I just think they're going to staplegun Libby to the wall first.

Speaking of poopoo, Morgan has been potty training seriously for the last week or so. You have not experienced life until you go through this with a 2 year old. It starts off with "I have to go poopoo, Daddy! I have to go poopoo, Daddy!" This requires an instant response; Morgan isn't wearing diapers any more, so the only thing worse than having to jump up from whatever you are doing is cleaning up the near miss. After the revelation of a turd from on high, we run at lightning speed to the plastic potty, rip off her pants and then I have to leave the room. A couple minutes go by and then I'll hear the pitter patter of running feet, followed by "I made a poopoo! I made a poopoo!" While seeing my kid running through the house with no pants and an uwiped bottom is usually a little unsettling, I'm still obliged to jump up and down, start cheering, give her a high-five and pray that nothing else hit the ground during her run across the house. We then grab a chocolate pretzel (have to reward the little monster) and celebrate some more. Ironically enough, Morgan just farted incredibly loudly, laughed, and ran to the potty. Ahhh, the joys of being a dad.

On the wine side, I completely broke my budget and picked up a bottle of Turley 03 Earthquake and 2 of the 03 Old Vines. I couldn't help myself and the fridge is down to 29 bottles right now. I think I'm going to hold off from drinking anything for a while and see if I can make it until Thanksgiving without opening any good stuff. This school budget stuff SUCKS. Until next time.

The End of Term 1

2005-10-19T06:26:00.000-07:00

It's finally over. Term 1 has come to an end, I'm done with finals and I am anxiously awaiting my grades. Whoohoo! I know I got an SP (Superior Pass - 4.0) in Computer Skills, but given it's a self-paced class that relies on your ability to read directions and take on more assignments for a better grade, I guess it's not all that impressive. Econ, Stats and Managerial Effectiveness are going to be the biggies. I'll be satisfied with HP's (High Pass, 3.7) for all three, so keep your fingers crossed!

Supposedly, I have a break this week. I say "supposedly" because I've got 200 pages worth of material to work through before class starts on Monday. They're called "pre-assignments" and designed to help us hit the ground running. Maybe they should call them "jack up your break and make you do homework" assignments, because I've been putting them off and dreading them. The sad thing is that I'm laying around the house for most of break, so I might I actually complete them vs. all of the guys I know that are flying home to see girlfriends, attend weddings or do a Wall Street week-in-cities trip. They're REALLY going to love reading a FedEd case and putting a presentation together.

On the home front, the wife's sister is visiting from Stockton, CA. I have not thrown myself in front of a bus yet, but I did manage to drink myself to sleep last night. Given today is Wednesday and her departure date is Saturday, I'm kind of thinking I'd rather switch places with Matt in Iraq right now. At least I can shoot back at the bad guys. I got a lecture last night from her about Fetzer merlot being better than any bottle of wine I have and that she'd like to do a blind taste test with one of my "fancy pants" bottles of wine to prove her point. This followed a full day of diarrhea of the mouth, including highlights like "wow, that was immaculant," "the ride was bumpy because of the turbo-air" and last, but not least, "Andrew, I'm going to give you a lesson on how incorporations work. They let you keep everything at arm's distance." In that context, my response of "I'd sooner sip urine through a straw than drink a bottle of your Fetzer merlot" wasn't quite as bad as it sounded. If she thinks I'm going to open a $30 bottle of wine for her to drink through one of Morgan's sippy cups, she's mainling heroin.

We're going to take a tour of campus today, and I can't tell you how excited I am to have her walking the hallowed halls of my b-school making comments like "wow, the archutecture (sic) is incredibly elavogant." The wife could tell I was getting a little testy yesterday, but after her sister explained how to raise our daughter correctly, I'm guessing I have free reign to let loose on her today.

Just typing this is making me look at the clock. It's 9:41 AM now, but I'm sure it's 5:00 somewhere. If I start drinking now, I'll pass out, wake up after 5:00 and then won't feel so bad about drinking even more. Maybe I'll go buy some Fetzer merlot; it's cheaper than bourbon.

For those of you following along with Matt - talked to him for 30 mins on Saturday and he's relatively bored. This is a good thing. We sent him a couple of care packages filled with Red Bull, York Patties (some cockandballs stole his last batch) and other stuff... If anyone is interested in "adopting a soldier," send me an email and I'll hook you up. I've asked Matt to put together a list of some of the guys in his platoon that are single/don't have family/have family (see above) but don't want to talk to them.

Why I Fell in Love With Wine

2005-10-10T07:40:00.000-07:00

I just finished Term 1 at b-school and decided it was a great time to relax, open a bottle of wine and toast the fact that I am still alive. It was probably a little presumptuous, given finals are coming up this week, but technicalities smechnicalities. I opened up a 2001 Bressler Cabernet Sauvignon (~$70), grabbed a nice big Riedel glass and poured away. The nose from this cab was amazing, and the first, long sip nearly knocked me off my feet. I fell in love with wine all over again.

I know, I know. I need a wine habit like I need a hole in the head. Going from a great salary to poverty level has been "culture shock," to say the least. Even then, if I was content with a $19.95 Vouvray, life would be bearable and my Costco card would be shredded from overuse. There's just something about a fantastic bottle of wine that blows me away. Some art lovers can look at a Jackson Pollack painting and declare it a masterpiece, scant moments before succumbing to an uncontrollable seizure from the day-glo colors arranged in a projectile-vomit like pattern on a piece of canvas. I get that same sense of euphoria from a spectacular bottle of wine, get to skip the seizure AND I find myself appreciating Jackson Pollack the closer I get to the end of the bottle.

I think the greatest thing is that Bressler's cab didn't get rave reviews from the press. I believe Parker gave his 2001 an 89, which I think is a travesty. I can honestly say I have never had a glass of wine that just exploded with fruit like this one. I would agree with Parker to a degree that the finish was a little lighter than I would expect from a rock-star Napa cab, but I wouldn't score it less than 93, which brings up one last point - wine isn't about ratings. Can I tell you how irritated I am that Andrew from A.P. Vin scored a 92 from WS on his inaugural release (2003 Garys' Vineyard)? Don't get me wrong - I agree 100% with the score. I picked up 9 bottles and have ONE left. That said, his mailing list doubled over the summer as a result of the article. I was fortunate enough to find him before WS did, but now 10,000 people are going to crowd out my allocation because some wank at a magazine gave him a 92 after drinking 100 other glass of pinot that same day. Parker wants to give Bressler an 89? I'm ECSTATIC about that. Give him a 75 next time, for all I care. Granted, I need to figure out a way to afford Bressler and A.P. Vin this year (*cough* and Turley and Match), but at least I'll be smiling.

Thanks to Bob and Andrew for reminding me why I drink wine! Thanks to b-school for reminding me why I drink at all.

Ranting and Raving

2005-10-05T06:37:00.000-07:00

Ok. I've had it. Great story from one of my profs.

"There will be some days where you look around and say to yourself 'Lo, it is I that brings fire down from the gods to the natives.' Other days, you'll wonder to yourself 'If there are 426 people in my class, surely I was 427 and one of the others got hit by a bus, which explains why I'm sitting here today.' Then, there will be days that you're sure you were number 426, but looking across the table at the dumb son of a bitch on your team, you're absolutely certain he was 428."

I'm convinced that the dumb son of a bitch on my team was number 600, but stole number 425's student visa. Surprise, it's the one knob that I wrote about on my thread 9 months ago when I got his email.

Speaking of potty mouths, Morgan is now peeing like a world class champion. She no longer wears diapers during the day, so we're clapping and cheering about that. In fact, we're clapping and cheering every time she takes a whiz, which gets her excited, resulting in her going whiz some more and, of course, more clapping and cheering. If she finally gets around to taking a crap in the potty, I'm thinking we'll do cartwheels on the front lawn and play "Celebrate Good Times" by Kool and the Gang.

Heard from Matt this morning and he has officially reached FOB Oryan after an exciting truck ride from LSA Anaconda. He is now 1/20th of his way through the tour. He posted some cool pics, but I don't want to post the link. If you want to see them, send me an email at my personal account (not the wbfw address above).

Other news - I signed up for the World Series of Poker MBA Championship in Vegas in January. Who knows? Maybe I'll win some money. I'm 4-0 in both of my fantasy football leagues and am have lasted 4 weeks in our school survivor league, which has gone from 28 to 7. Whooohooo! Until next time...

Wine, Weather and My TI-89 Titanium

2005-10-01T06:22:00.000-07:00

Finally, a homework assignment I can get excited about. One of the supplementary readings for my Prob Stats class is an article by Orley Ashefelter and company on the "Bordeaux Equation," which appeared in Chance magazine several years after the original study. Specifically, three profs collected quite a bit of data on sale prices and vintage quality of young vs. old wines and then compared them against weather patterns. They than ran regressions against the data to determine what vintages would be spectacular, based solely on weather - no tasting involved. Parker's response - "a Neandrathal way of looking at wine" and he was slammed by several others. Ironically, Ashefelter's research is based on Bruno Prats's observation of how weather affected his juice at Chateau Cos d'Estournel in the St-Estephe region of Bordeaux.

One of the most common complaints was that applying his equation back against his data set couldn't accurately predict the known data. My take on that is that people don't understand that regression forecasting gives you a general idea of where a value will land, but can vary by a standard deviation in either direction.

Article Link

Interesting summarization appears in the NYT on 3/18/1990 (Wine Equation Puts Some Noses Out of Joint), where Ashenfelter puts it all on the line, declaring the 1989 Bordeaux crop will be the greatest of the century. Again, look at the dates; the NYT writes "these wine are barely three months in the cask and have yet to be tasted by critics."

NOTE: If you want to leave a comment, you'll need to register with blogger.com. I got 3 anonymous comments within 5 minutes of posting and I'm tired of it. Make up a a name and an email and you're good to go...

Comment Spam

2005-09-21T08:58:00.000-07:00

Spam has finally hit the blogging world. It's really quite irritating, especially with Blogger's piss-poor ability to manage comments in general. Here's what happens: You publish a post to your blog, which is guaranteed to be syndicated. When the page is updated, it's added to a log file off in the neversphere. Spammers have utilities set up to monitor these sites, go out to the recently update blog site and post a comment. You've seen them before here, but in the event that you haven't, here's an example:

Hi! I saw your blog and liked it a lot. I could not agree more with your point of view, which is why I'd like to talk about my new buttocks enhancer, the AssMaster 2000. For just $29.95 and 30 minutes a day, you too can experience firm buttocks at the click of a button. Come by and visit me some time at assmaster2000.com.

Everything is automated, so you can go from one comment to my best showing of five. The cool thing about Blogger is that you can only remove the comment every once in a blue moon if you click the right combination of view post and comment options. How irritating.

On another note - Friday night is the start of camp-out. Imagine 4000 graduate students livng in U-Haul trucks in a parking lot for 36 hours. Stores in the area are already running out of beer. I'll probably bring the video camera along, just for the hell of it. The business school guys go all out for this event and get sponsors from local restaurants, stores, etc. People bring generators, big screen tv's and blow-up dolls. Should be fun :-) By the way, I'm 2-0 in both of my fantasy football leagues!!! I've also lasted both weeks in a survivor league at school, which has shrunk from 28 people to 9. Go INDIE!!!

Over There

2005-09-17T20:34:00.000-07:00

I don't really feel like waxing poetic at this point time, so I'll leave you with "I guess somebody has to go." Please keep my brother Matt in your prayers as he boards a plane for Kuwait and then makes the long drive to his new home in Iraq. Tomorrow's hangover is dedicated to you, bro.

Again, please keep him in your prayers.
Andrew

Judge Judy Eat Your Heart Out!

2005-09-09T05:30:00.000-07:00

I am pleased to announce that I have been elected Judicial Representative (along with some other potatohead) for the Class of 2007. I will now be one of the official Honor Code enforcers for the school and run the MBAA elections. To think it all started one day, back in 1982 when I got my first hall monitor position. At that point, I knew there were grand things in store...

Signs You Are in Business School

2005-09-08T04:00:00.000-07:00

I am really tired right now. Stayed up late trying to get ahead in my computer skills class, and no, that's not a "good" thing... The Raiders game is on tonight at 9:00 PM, which means no sleep tonight either. Got me thinking about school in general. You know you're in business school when:

You wake up in the middle of the night screaming "It's centralized, damnit. Centralized!" while going over a case org chart in your head.
You can't decide what to eat at BoJangles, so you make a decision tree on a napkin and then assignt weights to the options.
You determine your opportunity assessment for *cough* extra-curricular activity over the weekend.
The assessment result is so low that you've got a better shot of going to the Latin Party and getting lucky with the bouncer. Ora le, me llamo "guerro grande."
Fine dining means ordering the "exhibition plate" in the cafeteria.
You explain to your wife that drinking an entire six pack in one sitting isn't really a bad thing. Instead, you encourage her to think of it as a negative shift on the supply curve, given the refrigerator is empty. Of course, you run to the store the next day to replenish, but that's beside the point
Things like this are funny.

Granted none of the rest of you are in business school, I'm not holding out for point #7, soooo sod off. I'm grabbing some coffee and jumping in the truck; I'm late for my 8:00 AM stats class.

And in the Red Corner, Introducing Lou Dobbs!

2005-09-05T15:35:00.000-07:00

Gotta tell you, it was GREAT to watch Lou Dobbs beat up Jesse Jackson like a Dollar Store pinata on live TV tonight. Too bad Sharpton wasn't there, as well. Jackson and Sharpton thrive off of racial division in this country and do everything they can to keep the fire burning. The idea that the hurricane respose (or lack thereof) was racially motivated is absolutely ludicrous.

Maybe Jesse Jackson should start asking why so many of the people in New Orleans didn't evacuate. No, I'm not referring to the homeless/indigent/poor, etc. I'm referring to the 2000+ people that got airlifted off the roofs of their houses because they didn't want to leave their houses. "I thought we could ride it out." "I didn't want my house to get looted." What a bunch of stupid ass people. If you have to choose between your family and your @$#@%^% TV set, you don't deserve either. If Jesse wants to stoke the racism flames yet again, maybe he can address all of the blacks that were roving the streets, raping women and looting stores. Even better, maybe Jesse Jackson can address the blacks that were shooting the doctors evacuating hospitals, the national guard trying to rescue people and then contractors that were trying to fix the levees. There are people dying every minute; God knows how many have died while I've taken the time to write this. Yet, with all of this in mind, the best Jesse and Al can offer is "the government is racist and doesn't care if blacks die." Two reverends, no less.

Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in they name? And in thy name have cast out devils? And in thy name done many wonderful works? And then I will profess unto them, I never knew you; depart from me ye that work iniquity.

Matthew 7:22-23

Freshmen Will Be Freshmen

2005-09-01T08:10:00.000-07:00

I always appreciate a good laugh. One of the guys on my study team runs a dorm here at the hallowed halls of Duke and passed on the following story at one of our many long, drawn-out and laborious study meetings.

My friend was fast asleep at 4:00 AM when his phone rang. The police were at his door (he's in charge of the dorm) and were bringing a student back. Apparently, one of the freshmen in his dorm (a young woman) went out and tied one on pretty hard the night before classes. In her drunken stupor, she wandered back to the dorms only to find the doors locked. Angry that her key wouldn't open the door, the young lady decided to break one of the windows and crawl inside, where she subsequently passed out on the floor. While this still would have been a newsworthy story if it played out as she expected, it wouldn't have been quite as funny. Unfortunately for our story's heroine, she had, in fact, missed her dorm completely. Beer Bong Betty had actually broken into the University Art Museum and had passed out in the lobby. I'm trying to decide (based on a student's income) just how much I would have paid to be on the call to her parents that probably would have gone like this:

"Good morning, Mr. AlcoholicsDad"
"Hardly. It's 4:00 AM"
"This is the University Police Department at Duke University"
"Is my daughter ok?"
"She's fine now. We've bandaged her hands and she's sleeping."
"What happened?"
"It appears that your daughter wanted to get a head start on her Art Appreciation class"
"How's that?"
"Well, first she stuck her fist through one of the windows in the University Art Museum..."

Gotta love freshmen :-)

Day 1

2005-08-30T04:49:00.000-07:00

Taken from an email.

Sheer chaos. First day of class was yesterday. Here's an idea of the schedule:

8:00 AM - 10:15 prob stats
10:30 - 12:30 Team meeting
1:15 - 3:30 Managerial Effectiveness
3:45 - 5:30 Team meeting - prob stats case
6:15 - 7:15 Marketing club meeting
7:30 - 8:30 General Management club meeting
8:00 - 9:00 Leadership Development Initiative

So, I bailed at 7:15 after starting to hit that dazed, comatose phase. I've got more homework than God ever intended for one human being AND my laptop is in shambles. Something happened to the Kernel32.dll and it's whacked out. No office, no media player - nothing that uses MSFT as it's core, with the exception of IE. Needless to say, I've been screaming bloody murder. Wine? Screw wine. I'm drinking bourbon. Love the subject matter and the challenge, but I'm starting to see why MBA's are arrogant jackasses. If you actually make it through these two years without dying, without getting LPs (low passes) and end up with a job, it's a feat. Right now, I'm high on 6 cups of coffee, have 100 pages to read and a case analysis due by 10:30. Did I mention I'm still sitting around in my boxers typing an email?

BTW - I park in the neversphere. After not 'winning' the lottery for a parking pass, I park in the godforsaken waste lands of the green parking lot. I've been trying to walk from the lot to class (where's Mac when you need him?) in a hope to burn off a lb or two, but ugh, it's a trek. The funny part is that the later you are, the worse is gets. So, if you're running late for class, everyone else has beat you to the lot, which means you're even farther away... Until next time.

Leaders of Tomorrow

2005-08-25T11:39:00.000-07:00

Monday marked the start of the "Integrated Leadership Experience" that officially kicks off the school year. Day 1 featured a long, mind-numbing discertation on having "difficult conversations." The first speaker was pretty good, but the second half of the day was exceedingly painful. I'd sooner call up a proctologist and ask questions about my colon (difficult conversation) than sit through this awful experience again. Apparently, I need to work on being more direct/blunt with people and telling them what my issues are. Yeah. And Oprah needs to work on her self-confidence and introversion complex. Lesson from Monday was that there is a well-paying career in consulting for any potato head.

Day 2 was a classic ropes training day. Short version: Take a group of people out into the woods and make them do crazy things like walk a highwire 30 feet above the ground, get over a 14 foot wall and get 10 of them to stand on a 2' x 2' square while reciting things they need to improve about themselves. Going in, I thought it was going to be a nightmare. Not only do I have to walk/balance my happy ass 30 feet in the air on a cable that's about as wide as my index finger, I have to do it while being eaten alive by mosquitos and talking about what makes me happy. I came out the other side a believer and even hugged a couple of people in the process. That said, if any of you ever hear me say "I like me. I'm a good person." please take me around back and slap me around a bit.

Yesterday was "ethics and leadership day" and we argued about all things ethical. The highlight of the day was a 1 on 1 real estate transaction role play modeled after the Plaza development in NYC. In the end, I convinced the other guy to give up more ass than a $2 hooker standing outside an Amsterdam ATM stall. I guess there's hope for sales and marketing guys in B school, after all.

Downside now is that I have a TON of work to do and a 2 year old that wants to "play toys." Hope to post a bit more once classes actually set in; the last 2 weeks have been 7:30-5:30 (at least) with zero or no computer access. I've been a good boy and stayed out of the wine fridge, with the exception of a single split of dessert wine that I shared with some friends. We have a 1997 Rafanelli Terrace Select queued up for dinner on Saturday night. Happy Anniversary to me and Janis - #11. I just don't know how I've put up with the old battle axe this long...

It's All in the Cards

2005-08-15T08:09:00.000-07:00

Well, this is it. Two and a half months of sitting on my ass and watching the Tony Danza show is coming to an end. Orientation starts tomorrow. Ack!!!

Started things off last night with a Texas Hold 'Em tourney at somebody's house. Nice guy named Matt sent out an invite to the school alias inviting anyone and everyone over to his house for beer and poker. 16 people showed up, which is really kind of cool when you consider nobody really knew anyone else there, save a couple of one-offs. Because of the size, we split into a beginner table and an advanced table with $20 buy-ins on both. I got stuck on the advanced table, which was kind of a bummer. I am UNEMPLOYED after all, and hearing "why do they call it a flush?" had dollar signs spinning around my head. First hour of the game was pretty crappy; I had one playable hand and overbet it, trying to lure one of the really aggro guys into playing. My main goal was to finish in the top 3 and see some cash, so I hung out on the sidelines most of the time and played when I could pull a cheap flop. Then the cards started coming... After staging a mini-comeback, I went head-to-head with the chip leader, who had at least a 5:1 lead on me. Guy was playing flawless poker up until that point and using his stack to bully people. I don't know if he started sniffing white-out on a cigarette break or what, but he started playing really aggressively and I snapped him in half over the course of 5 or 6 hands. He tried to bully me on the final hand, but I came back over the top and took the pot. WHOOHOO!!!

As I bask in the glory of my first victory, I thought I'd share some things that I've picked up after getting hammered over and over and over again.

Don't play unless you have a good hand (Ace and a card, two face cards or a pair). I get killed every time I roll the dice and go for a pricey flop. I had one call that I should have NEVER made and took a boot to the head because of it. I'm still trying to get used to playing 1 out of 6 hands; it doesn't seem sporting.
Only exception to the above rule is if you're at the end of the table and can get in with a cheap call to the blind. Every time I call the damn blind at the start, some assmonkey comes behind me and bets 10 gazillion chips, resulting in me mucking the hand and waving goodbye to my bet.
Don't bluff. Ok, do it once in a blue moon. But realistically, we're talking about $20 in chips. It's cool to watch the World Series of Poker and see guys win with a 7/2 off-suit, but at a home game for $20... chances are I've had enough beer and could care less about my $20 to call your bluff. I swear. Almost every time I try to bluff, somebody staple-guns my ass to the wall just because they're bored. Who knows? Maybe it's just me. But I'm not backing down from a bet unless someone throws 75% of my chip count out on a bet.
Don't play poker. It's such an irritating game. Nothing is worse than having a suited Ace King and watching some guy with a 4/8 flop 884.

So, it's off to school... The wine fridge keeps taking hits and I've officially been reduced to the Marshall Plan - Gewurtztraminer, anyone?

Updates

2005-08-12T16:58:00.000-07:00

Lots of things to talk about, so here goes.

Went out to the Outer Banks this week for my birthday/vacation. It was really quite an experience; one normally wouldn't peg North Carolina for having $6 million homes, especially when you consider what I paid for mine here. Had a great time and laid around on the beach for 5 days. The only down side is that I couldn't find a single bar that knew what a mohito was and several actually asked me how to make a Long Island Iced Tea. Good god, you'd think I was on a different planet. Intriguing thing was that were almost NO African Americans on the islands. Almost felt like I was back in Oregon. Kind of strange, given I live in Durham now.

Deleted my "Bombing the Bombers" post. I know, I know. Talk about a sell-out. Talked to a couple of people about it (I got shelled by some random posters and responded accordingly) and the unanimous response was to not have anything of such a controversial nature availble on a google search. Hence, sell-out. It's kind of irritating, but I guess I would agree, given I'm going to business school right now. So, feel free to post and call me a pussy.

Drank a Riesling tonight. A 2003 Schloss Lieser Riesling Kabinett to be exact. Not a bad bottle of wine and it went exceptionally well with my $4.99 Costco chicken. Great deal. Driving out of the parking lot, I had one of those Buddha enlightenment moments that crossed over into a bad Jeff Foxworthy dialog. If you're looking for wine deals at Costco, your wine budget is on a budget.

School starts on Tuesday. Orientation. God, it seems like my time off went so fast... To think it was just yesterday I gave my notice and started lying on the couch. I've got 8:00 AM classes on Monday and Thursday now. ACK. Do you realize I haven't even been hitting the shower until 10:30 for the last 2.5 months?!? Arrggghhh. One last weekend to tie one on and enjoy the wild life. Cheers.

Wine With the Natives

2005-08-01T14:30:00.000-07:00

After going to store after store after store and butcher after butcher to find tri-tip in this god-forsaken culinary wasteland, I finally found a Whole Foods in Chapel Hill (30 mins away) that carries it. To celebrate, I invited over a couple of neighbors and fired up the grill. Good times, good times.

I'm standing on my deck, beer in one hand, meat skewer in the other, and out of nowhere an ATV comes flying around the corner into my backyard. On second glance, I see it's pulling a wagon with a cooler and extra food. It's taking a little bit longer than I expected, but I think I'm finally starting to get used to North Carolina... My neighbor opens up the cooler and pulls out a couple of bottles of Natural Ice and hands me one. I'm assuming he expects me to drink it, especially since i just mentioned I needed to grab another beer. Now, I wouldn't go so far as to call myself a beer snob, but Natural Ice? What? Are we going to watch a truck pull on ESPN8 after dinner, too? As I grudgingly take the bottle, his wife comes over and says "Hey! I've got a bunch of wine coolers in my carry case, too!" Wow, all we need now is a bottle of peppermint schnapps and some Hot Damn and we'll have a gay old time.

I guess I should have seen the trainwreck coming when the wife looked at my wine fridge and said "Gosh, y'all have a lot of wine in this thingy. I sure like wine!", but I think the Natural Ice was clouding my judgment. As we sat down to the table, I caught the wife looking longingly over at the wine fridge, probably thinking to herself "1 fridge, 1 night and 1 sippy cup would make me a happy woman," so I took the bait.
"Would you care for some wine with dinner tonight?" I asked politely.
"I thought you'd never ask!" was the instant response.
Wow, did Dionne Warwick clue you in on that one on your daily call today? But, being the gracious host, I walked over and tried to find the compromise between something that she'd like and something that wouldn't have me seething for days because I whizzed it away on my friend the Bartles and Jaymes aficionado. I smiled and replied "I know just the thing" as I walked off, muttering to myself "Thank you for your support."

I returned with a 2003 Turley Old Vines Zinfandel. Logic here was it's a zin, so it goes well with tri-tip. It's $25, so I'm not going to get TOO irritated. It's sweeter than cough syrup (thank you Marshall, keep smiling and blow it out your rear), and I know she's going to love it. I opened the bottle and grabbed some nice wine glasses and came back to the table.
"Oh, no! I don't need one of those glasses. I'm fine with this one."
Hold on, let me make my surprised face. Would you like a couple of ice cubes, too? "Ok then."
"Mmmm, this shore is good. Did you get this at Harris Teeter?" (Harris Teeter is like an Albertson's)
"That would be a no. I bought it directly from them because I'm on their mailing list."
"Oh, you mean they actually send you mail to by wine?"
"Yeah, that's the gist of it. I like their stuff, so I waited for a little over a year and now they let me buy a couple of bottles at a time."
"Well that's stupid. Why don't they let you buy as much as you want?"
"Supply and Demand. I'm going back to school to learn all about it."
"Well, I'd just go to Harris Teeter, buy something and save myself the trouble."
"I'm sure you would."

And so the night from hell concluded. I'm leaving out a lot of the actual dinner conversation and other events to give you as biased a story as humanly possible, but it really was a miserable time. We had a bbq with our other neighbors this past Saturday night and had such a great time that I went back to my house and grabbed even more wine. If you took me up on my recommendation to pick up some of that 2003 A.P. Vin, you're sitting pretty right about now, because we had a spectacular bottle of it before dinner. And then we switched to cough syrup ;-)

If WWII Was Fought by Online Gamerz

2005-07-25T16:58:00.000-07:00

I can take no credit for this one. After 5 years of playing Quake, HalfLife, Duke Nukeum and other games online, this just completely killed me. I thought about cleaning it up and making it a bit funnier, but that'd be jacked up, so here's the original as relayed by DJHombre at VC.

*Hitler[AoE] has joined the game.*
*Eisenhower has joined the game.*
*paTTon has joined the game.*
*Churchill has joined the game.*
*benny-tow has joined the game.*
*T0J0 has joined the game.*
*Roosevelt has joined the game.*
*Stalin has joined the game.*
*deGaulle has joined the game.*
Roosevelt: hey sup
T0J0: y0
Stalin: hi
Churchill: hi
Hitler[AoE]: cool, i start with panzer tanks! ownage!
paTTon: lol more like panzy tanks
T0JO: lol
Roosevelt: o this fockin sucks i got a depression!
benny-tow: haha america sux
Stalin: hey hitler you dont fight me i dont fight u, cool?
Hitler[AoE]; sure whatever
Stalin: cool
*poland has joined the game*
poland:HAY GUYS HOWZ IT GOIUNG DUDZ?
*poland has been eliminated*
poland:****!!!!11poland:**** U ****ING SPAWN CAMPERS!!!
deGaulle: **** Hitler rushed some1 help
Hitler[AoE]: lol byebye frenchy
Roosevelt: i dont got crap to help, sry
Churchill: wtf the luftwaffle is attacking me
Roosevelt: get antiair guns
Churchill: i cant afford them
benny-tow: u n00bs know what team talk is?
paTTon: ****
Roosevelt: o yah hit the navajo button guys
deGaulle: eisenhower ur worthless come help me quick
Eisenhower: i cant do **** til rosevelt gives me an army
paTTon: yah hurry the fock up
Churchill: d00d im gettin pounded
deGaulle: this is fockin weak u guys suck
*deGaulle has left the game.*
Roosevelt: im gonna attack the axis k?
benny-tow: with what? ur wheelchair?
benny-tow: lol did u mess up ur legs AND ur head?
Hitler[AoE]: ROFLMAO
T0J0: lol o no america im comin 4 u
Roosevelt: wtf! thats bull**** u ***s im gunna kick ur asses
T0JO: not without ur harbors u wont! lol
Roosevelt: u little biotch ill get u
Hitler[AoE]: wtf
Hitler[AoE]: america hax, u had depression and now u got a huge fockin army
Hitler[AoE]: thats bull**** u hacker
Churchill: lol no more france for u hitler
Hitler[AoE]: tojo help me!
T0J0: wtf u want me to do, im on the other side of the world retard
Hitler[AoE]: fine ill clear you a path
Stalin: u arsshoel! WE HAD A FoCKIN TRUCE
Hitler[AoE]: i changed my mind lol
benny-tow: haha
benny-tow: hey ur losing ur guys in africa im gonna need help in italy soon sum1
T0J0: o **** i cant help u i got my hands full
Hitler[AoE]: im 2 busy 2 help
Roosevelt: yah thats right biznitch im comin for ya
Stalin: church help me
Churchill: like u helped me before? sure ill just sit here
Stalin: dont be an arss
Churchill: dont be a commie. oops too late
Eisenhower: LOL
benny-tow: hahahh oh **** help
Hitler: o man ur focked
paTTon: oh what now biotch
Roosevelt: whos the cripple now lol
*benny-tow has been eliminated.*
benny-tow: lame
Roosevelt: gj patton
paTTon: thnx
Hitler[AoE]: eisenhower hax hes killing all my ****
Hitler[AoE]: quit u hacker so u dont ruin my record
Eisenhower: Nuts!
benny~tow: wtf that mean?
Eisenhower: meant to say nutsack lol finger slipped
paTTon: coming to get u hitler u paper hanging hun ****socker
Stalin: rofl
T0J0: HAHAHHAA
Hitler[AoE]: u guys are fockin gay
Hitler[AoE]: ur never getting in my city
*Hitler[AoE] has been eliminated.*
benny~tow: OMG u noob you killed yourself
Eisenhower: ROFLOLOLOL
Stalin: OMG LMAO!
Hitler[AoE]: i didnt click there omg this game blows
*Hitler[AoE] has left the game*
paTTon: hahahhah
T0J0: my teammates are n00bs
benny~tow: shut up noob
Roosevelt: haha wut a moron
paTTon: wtf am i gunna do now?
Eisenhower: yah me too
T0J0: why dont u attack me o thats right u dont got no ships lololol
Eisenhower: fock u
paTTon: lemme go thru ur base commie
Stalin: go to hell lol
paTTon: fock this **** im goin afk
Eisenhower: yah this is gay
*Roosevelt has left the game.*
Hitler[AoE]: wtf?
Eisenhower: **** now we need some1 to join
*tru_m4n has joined the game.*
tru_m4n: hi all
T0J0: hey
Stalin: sup
Churchill: hi
tru_m4n: OMG OMG OMG i got all his stuff!
tru_m4n: NUKES! HOLY **** I GOT NUKES
Stalin: wtf is nukes?
T0J0: Yeah, wtf is nukes?
Stalin: d00d, gimme some plz
tru_m4n: no way i only got like a couple
Stalin: omg dont be gay gimmie nuculer secrets
T0J0: OMGWTFBBQ!!?
*T0J0 has been COMPLETELY OWNZORED*
*The Allied team has won the game!*
Eisenhower: awesome!
Churchill: gg noobs no re
T0J0: thats bull**** u fockin suck
*T0J0 has left the game.*
*Eisenhower has left the game.*
Stalin: next game im not going to be on ur team, u guys didnt help me for ****
Churchill: wutever, we didnt need ur help neway dumbarss
tru_m4n: l8r all
benny~tow: bye
Churchill: l8r
Stalin: fock u all
tru_m4n: shut up commie lol
*tru_m4n has left the game.*
benny~tow: lololol u commie
Churchill: ROFL
Churchill: bye commie
*Churchill has left the game.*
*benny~tow has left the game.*
Stalin: i hate u all ***s
*Stalin has left the game.*
paTTon: lol no1 is left
paTTon: weeeee i got a jeep
*paTTon has been eliminated.*
paTTon: o ****!
*paTTon has left the game.*

Eating in Durham

2005-07-19T20:07:00.000-07:00

Went to Bullock's Bar-B-Que for dinner tonight. If you've ever spent any time in the South, you've noticed that the only sport more exciting than Nascar is multiple-chin counting; Bullock's is one of the reasons why. Before you even get to order, they drop off a basket of hush puppies (deep fried cornbread) that has more grease in it than a van full of rappers on their way to a Jerry Curl convention. We ordered family style, which, when translated loosely, means "a whole bunch of greasy food, supplemented with deep fried stuff that's really salty." Okra? Deep fried. Chicken? Deep fried. Beans? Drowning in butter. Cole Slaw? Dripping with sauce. Don't get me wrong; it tasted great. Still, I'm afraid I'll wake up tonight and feel like I had 2 pygmy goats with a bucket of Crisco. I suppose one man's eating nightmare is another Preston Gates biz dev manager's fantasy... After washing all that down with 3 glasses of sweet tea, I choked down a slice of lemon ice box pie and ate some of Morgan's banana pudding. Either I need to hit a treadmill in the immediate future, or I'll have to tape a red flag to my ass and start audibly beeping when I walk backwards in public.

Less than a month before school starts. At my current rate of consumption, I've calculated wine d-day to be Sept. 21. Of course, that hasn't been adjusted for present conditions (mother-in-law is staying here for 10 days, which means a possible depletion date of oh FRIDAY) and general wine notes (who opens a Turley Hayne PS w/o putting at least 5-10 years on it?), so I could be off by a month or six. After tonight, I'm really considering just switching to bourbon, so I may not have anything to worry about anyways. I'd share tonight's installment of "As My Liver Turns," but my wife would divorce me. Instead, I'll go brush my teeth, jump in bed and stare at the ceiling, waiting for the next potatohead friend of mine to call me at 11:00 at night and say "oops, I forgot you're 3 hours ahead." We're up to 3 nights in a row now :-) Tonight's award goes to the aforementioned Preston Gates manager that messaged "Beef Curtains" followed by "My penis is a vampire" to me. Pour another one for me and put it on Paben's tab...

Best wishes to Bob Bressler (http://www.bresslervineyards.com/), who makes phenomenal cabernet but apparently can't ride a motorscooter to save his life. Gravel + scooter = "Oops I've fallen and I can't reach my Reidel Master Sommelier glass." In all seriousness, I hope you get well soon - the 2001 Bressler Cab I toasted you with on Saturday dropped me down to 46 bottles!

North Carolina or Bust: Part II

2005-07-16T17:46:00.000-07:00

Day 7 - Nashville ho! We jumped into the Maxima and headed for the heart of Hee-Haw and country music. Yippity skippity. After touring the Country Music Hall of Fame and listening to my father drone on endlessly about watching each and every hillbilly with a dobro on TV, we made our way down to Tootsies, the quintessential Nashville bar. Nashville is one of those few places in the world where you can walk into a bar at 11:00 AM and find live music going and half the bar drinking. Not wanting to be outdone by some tourists from Minnesota, we all agreed that it was 5:00 somewhere and ordered a round. Matt requested a cover from the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, which meant another round of Buds. Yeah, I admit it - I was drinking Bud. Toto, we're not in Oregon any more. As Weenie Nelson started into "Grandpa" by the Judds, I started to break for the door. Apparently, it's my mother's favorite song, so dad stops us all, dials home on the cell phone and starts waving the phone in the air. I was convinved, at this point, that confusing cell phones for lighters was actually a hereditary issue and felt much better about the night before. We let dad have his 80's concert flashback and ordered another round.

After a rousing dinner from the Ribb Doctor, we got a surprise - Matt's new girlfriend Daisy (really. And she's from Mississippi. No, she wasn't wearing Dukes.) agreed to grace us with her presence. Sure, come over and meet the in-laws after they've gone through a 12 pack. Needless to say, Daisy appears and withstands the Spanish Inquisition. I think we were pretty nice to her, ESPECIALLY given our condition, but she clearly looked like she'd sooner set up a free colonoscopy clinic outside of a run down Mexican restaurant than hang out with us for another hour or two. Dad and I went in to watch a movie and have a couple more beers while Daisy and Matt discussed whether Matt was really related to us or just trying to get free help with yardwork and his car stereo.

Day 8 - I had been riding Matt to go check out the Pancake Pantry in Nashville since seeing it on $40 a Day on the Fine Living Channel. I made an executive decision that we were going there for breakfast and everyone could deal with it. The Pancake Pantry is one of those tourist destinations that you always here about - the stars eat there, everyone waits in line for an hour (there was an article on the wall talking about regulars logging 40 hours in line a year) and the prices are on the steep side. 10 minutes later, a stack of sweet potato pancakes and cinnamon cream syrup shows up in front of me. I could have eaten 30 of them. It felt like I did, and washing it down with two gallons of sweet tea probably didn't help things. Constipated and happy, I waddled out to the car and continued the Nashville experience.

Matt was our trusty tour guide, which meant we were in for a tour of the bar district at 11:00 AM again. Stop 1 was B.B. King's place. Apparently, this was the only bar in town without live music at 11:00 AM, so we had a drink, pounded down some oysters and cajun shrimp and hit the pool hall. I'd detail all the other bars (Coyote Ugly, etc.) but they can be summed up with "went in, ordered a beer and walked next door to _____." Finally, we headed back to B.B. King's for more food, where we met up with one of Matt's buddies from West Point and his friend. More drinking and beer, but with live music this time. Kick butt live music. At this point, I decide that while the liver remarkably rebuilds itself, it would be in my best interest to switch to water and sweet tea. We bail out of B.B. Kings and head to some Irish place for ciders. We meet Rachel the cocktail waitress, who has the dubious distinction of being the target of Matt and his buddy's affections after 10+ drinks on a weekly basis. After a couple of rounds, Matt is trying to convince us to go to some topless bar, so we threw him in the back of the car and the designated driver (dad) drove home.

Day 9 - As Clarksville disappeared in the rearview mirror, I had this vision of Tony Bennett in my head crooning "I left my liver in Tennessee." There was a trip to the Jack Daniels distillery and some more drinking that I missed, but I'm tired. Needless to say, we finally pulled into Durham and spent the next three days in 90-95 degree heat with 65%+ humidity. On to the next chapter of my life...

Moving, Grooving and Too Much Beer

2005-07-10T17:31:00.000-07:00

I finally made it. Durham at last. Of course, it's been 93 degrees with 70% humidity for the last two days, so I'm not super sure this is a good thing! Expecting the furniture tomorrow, so I'm sitting on the floor in the dark, typing away on Pirate Wireless Radio. Here's a recap of the trip for the three people that are still actually checking to see if I have written anything. Cheers!

Day 2. I pulled into Salt Lake City around 4:30 and took a nap. Zzzzzz. I'm not quite sure how I made it to SLC, but after the whole packing crap up, getting the wife and kid to the airport and then zooming to Boise, I was about as worn out as a Thai hooker during a carrier group port call. Matt and Dad showed up around 8:30 and we faced the first crisis on the trip - where in the hell do you find alcohol in SLC? *screaming* I started flipping through the cell speed dial and, after going through 4 Mormon guys, I found Carrie! Carrie was one of the few Gentiles in the city, who has since fled to San Jose, London and now Boulder. After a couple minutes of chit-chat, I pulled into the parking lot at Squatter's Brewery (ironically, a block or two from the temple). We ended up eating at the bar, which put me next to a woman's volleyball coach from Charlotte. 90 minutes later, Matt is irritated I'm cock-blocking him. Riiiiight.

Day 3. As we're flying across Nebraska, the dark clouds roll in. Torrential downpour, high winds and tornado warnings on the radio. Rather than risk driving in the dark during a nasty storm, we pulled into Sidney, corporate headquarters for Cabela's. Cabela's, as I learned, is a hunting super-store and basically the Bass Pro Shop equivalent for the hunting world. I've never seen so many guns in my life. As we're looking around at things, Dad finds a 1903 Springfield rifle and decides to hold an impromptu drill team demonstration for a crowd of kids. Yeah, that's the ticket. Every store owner wants a 64 year old man showing kids how to throw a rifle up in the air. Needless to say, Matt and I left Beetle Bailey in a hurry and went to play in the ammo dept. Hotel was $96 a night. In Sidney. Nebraska. A Days Inn, no less.

Day 4. As we're driving down backroads in St. Louis, MO because the interstate has been shut down due to a fatal car accident, we've completely thrown in the towel on getting to Clarksville, TN. This was all part of Matt's diabolical plan. He met a nice young lady on E-Harmony that lived in St. Louis and wanted to meet up with her. Her interests are (according to her online profile): grappling, submission holds and firearms. She's just wrapping up training at the Police Academy. Now, I don't know about you, but I'm not super inclined to go out with someone who ENJOYS wrestling people to the ground and rendering them incapacitated. Add a Taser and a nightstick to the equation and I'm running the other way. Yes, I realize for half of you, this is mildly arousing and you're angry I didn't start the story with "I never thought it would happen to me..." BUT, that's just not my thing. So, Dad and I went down to the arch and walked around the July 4th festival while Matt met up with Erin, who turned out to be very nice, but with bigger shoulders than any of us...

Day 5 - July 4th. Clarksville, TN. We arrive at Matt's house after picking up some fireworks from one of the four stands off the freeway. Matt's place is a pretty cool pad for a single guy, and I'm proud of him for being able to pick up a house at 24. Of course, his refrigerator had a 6 pack of beer and some orange juice in it, so we had to hit a restaurant for dinner. Matt's suggestion? Hooters, of course. And so the drinking began. I think I drove home that night, but I'm not quite sure - I just remember picking up more beer at the store. Warning lights should be going off in your head at this point. Beer + more beer + July 4th = carnage. Did I mention everything is legal in Tenn? I quickly came to the realization that the rockets I purchased (30" poles with rockets a little bigger than a small mag-lite attached to them) wouldn't stand up in a beer bottle. In a stroke of a pure genius, I managed to drop the pole INSIDE the grate to Matt's cement water cover in his front yard, providing a MX missile coming out of the silo effect as the rocket shot into the air. The coolest thing about these fireworks is that you don't have to clean up after yourself! They land a block or two away in someone else's backyard or, even better, on their roof.

Day 6. After a couple minutes, I finally found the Advil. I said a prayer or two to the Lord for creating CrackerBarrel, which is just the coolest chain restaurant on the face of the planet, especially after a night of fireworks. Pulling out of the parking lot, we noticed a big sign at the stand across the street - "FIREWORKS 50% OFF! EVERYTHING MUST GO!" $120 later, we had a mortar set, 20 shells, 8 more rockets and a lot of smaller stuff that I can't remember. We dumped the rockets at home and toured Fort Campbell for a while. I got to see Matt's office (zzzzz), some helicopters and a couple of cannons. Hooah. We spent most of our time in the PX picking out a BBQ and finding more beer. We sent Matt off to the store for food while I installed his truck stereo and Dad pulled his weeds.

Winnie the Jew comes back from the store with a pack of "thin ribeye steaks" that I would have labeled "thick cold-cuts," some green potatoes and a mini-keg with German beer. Apparently, he thought that if he gave us enough beer, we'd forget were eating ribeyes served proschiutto style. Yeah, right. Needless to say, we had a great dinner and drank a bit. Quite a bit. Matt decided that he didn't want to walk out around to the front of the house and light firecrackers in the street, so he decided to use his backyard instead. After my initial objections, I caved in and started tossing M-1000's from the deck. I pulled the rockets out, but to my dismay, I couldn't light them to save my life. I held the cell phone to the fuse for at least five minutes, pushing the 'dial' button, but nothing happened... Matt saved the day by pointing out a lighter would work better and handed me one, so the fireworks resumed.

I have to say it's incredibly impressive to drop a firework shell into a mortar tube, yell "Hang it!" and create a semi-professional show. After a lot of beer, it's downright amazing. Fortunately, Matt’s neighborhood is 95% military and they were all on pass for the holiday weekend. Nobody was around to see spent rockets and mortar rounds dropping on their roofs! About an hour later, we hosed down the backyard and collapsed into bed. Speaking of bed, I’m so there. I’ll finish the trip (Nashville, Jack Daniels and Durham) after I let this post sit a couple of days.

Driving

2005-07-01T19:08:00.000-07:00

On the road again. I just can't wait to get on the road again...

I'm wiped out. The move was just ridiculous, and anything you can imagine going wrong pretty much did. Someone broke into our house early AM of the move day, so I had the pleasure of meeting several of Portland's finest, while standing in my underwear. We finished the move around 10:00 PM and crashed at a friend's house. Janis almost missed her flight the next day, hitting check-in 40 minutes before her departure. Even cooler, as we're running to the airport, Morgan barfed all over. Yippee. I finally got on the road at 4:00 PM and made it to Boise at 11:30 PM last night and called it a day. Today has been much more mellow, and Matt and dad just arrived in Salt Lake city and we're heading off to find something to eat. Supposedly you have to "join a club" to have a beer here. WTF is that all about? Try a not-so-subtle tax on alcohol by anal-retentive people. Ugh. So, off to forage.

Not Guilty.

2005-06-13T17:43:00.000-07:00

Well, the question for the ages has been answered. Michael Jackson was found Not Guilty on 10 counts today. All that plastic surgery and skin coloring paid off; he must be white.

Unemployed and Happy

2005-06-11T21:36:00.000-07:00

I have to tell you, it sure is nice to be unemployed. I thought I'd be a little more freaked out about losing an extra several thousand dollars a month, but I think I'm doing ok with it now. Try waking up at 7:30, grabbing some coffee and falling into the shower around 9:00 some time. You'll understand what I mean. What REALLY blows me away is talking to the stupid people that say "I could never sit around the house like that - I always need to be doing something!" Yeah, right. I've had a week off and I've been busy every day. Hell, I haven't even had a chance to update the blog! Here's what's been going on.

On Monday, I switched over all the utilities both here and in Durham. I'm pretty sure I've now dealt with call centers on all 7 continents, including every province/state in India and the Phillipines. Sadly, I have never interacted with so many incompetent people in my life, save the time I got stuck on a bus with a bunch of volunteers for the Gore/Lieberman campaign. Even worse, you can't understand a word you're saying! Sample conversation after punching 15 buttons on the automated menu to get to a live operator, but I'll spare you the me-love-you-long-time hump-hump bar accent:

"Thank you for calling Direct TV. How may I help you?"
Hi! I'm moving from Portland to Durham and would like to move my DirectTV service.
"Great. And which new premium package were you interested in ordering?"
No, I am moving. I need your mover's package at my new house in North Carolina.
"I'm sorry, I don't know where that is."
What? Who cares?!? I am moving. You have a mover's package that let's me stop service here and continue it again at my new location, right?
"Oh! You're changing locations? Why didn't you say that?"
Whatever.

So, I get off the phone and go downstairs to watch TV. All my local channels have changed and are blacked out. I start flipping around with the tuner and realize that they're set for Raleigh/Durham. I pick up the phone, punch 15 more buttons and get some other whack job.

Excuse me. I just called to have my service moved in July and it looks like you've already pushed it through.
"No, that's impossible. It's scheduled for July 11. I have it right here in your log.
I'm looking at channel codes that all start with RD, with one channel labeled UNC.
"I don't know what that means. I have your change scheduled for July 11."
And I'm telling you that I live in Portland, OR and am looking at blacked out North Carolina channels.
"No, you live in North Carolina and are moving to Portland. It's right here in your record."
NO. I LIVE IN PORTLAND.
"Not according to your record."
Are you kidding me? I know where I live. Now fix my service so I can watch my Portland channels.
"Fine. Does it work now?"
No.
"How about now?"
No.
"I'm sorry. I'm unable to fix your service at this time. Please call all our technical support line."

I'll spare you the tech support conversation because I'd get eaten alive for being a racist. Needless to say, two hours after my initial call, my DirectTV now works again. I still don't know if they put the damn move order in. What blows me away is that I keep reading about these great off-shored call centers where the operators are trained in different regional dialects/accents, so I guess if you're from Georgia, your Indian customer service agent answers the phone with a "Howdy! You shore do have a purty mouth." (see 24/7 and a couple of other companies). Yet, none of these people understand "Hi, I need to move my #$%(^ DirectTV service. Add Verizon home phone and DSL to the mix and you might as well dust off your "I Honk for Hookers" t-shirt and try and get on stage with Benny Hinn, because you're chances are probably better than getting your phone line set up in less than 6 hours.

Ugh. Other highlights of the week. Kid eaten by dogs. Great story. Mom locks kid in basement, using a shovel to keep the door shut, because she's afraid her dogs will eat the kid. Kid gets out, dogs eat kid. After talking about her deep faith in God, Mom responds with "It's Nicky's time to go. When you're born you're destined to go and this was his time." How stupid do you have to be to lock your kid in a basement because your dogs will eat him? 10 to 1 this future Jerry Springer show guest comes out with a book - "The Milk Bone Diaries: Why You Shore Need to Listen to Your Mammas." Not surprisingly, there are no charges being pressed against her.

And, in response to the CNN story on Howard Dean, Donna Brazile, manager of Al Gore's 2000 campaign has officially weighed in on Dean's inflamatory rhetoric. "Privately, people have said they don't want Howard Dean to become the story because we have more important issues to talk about, but publicly we will continue to give Howard Dean our strong support." she said. In other words, Howard Dean is stealing the spotlight and Demos are getting jealous. Wow.

I need a beer. Or three. Maybe I'll even get off the couch tomorrow.

Howard Dean Hates Me

2005-06-08T07:20:00.000-07:00

Since his implosion on national TV during the Democratic primaries, Howard Dean has been trying to keep busy as the new chairman of the Democratic Party. After being told that the Democrats didn't want him to march to California, New York and especially not to Washington DC, the man who could have been president has taken his "I Have a Scream" speech to the public at large. As seen on CNN:

Dean told a forum of journalists and minority leaders Monday that Republicans are "not very friendly to different kinds of people, they are a pretty monolithic party ... it's pretty much a white, Christian party."

Challenged on that during the NBC interview, Dean said "unfortunately, by and large it is. And they have the agenda of the conservative Christians."

"This is a diversion from the issues that really matter: Social Security, and adequate job opportunity, strong public schools, a strong defense," Dean said.

As Howard Dean continues to alienate his party from even MORE of America (which is hard to believe, given they lost both houses of Congress and the Presidency last go round), one has to wonder if this view is pervasive in the party. The Social Security quote is probably the most fallacious and disingenuous. Not only has Bush aggressively been attacking Social Security for the last 18 months, the Republicans have been using Social Security as a smoke screen for the war in Iraq like crazy! Where was that great hero of the Democrats, Bill Clinton, when it came to talk about Social Security? Oh yeah, he was getting blown. Here's the gauntlet to you liberals out there - name a Democrat president since FDR created the welfare state that risked the wrath of the AARP and actually talked about changes to Social Security, much less tried to implement any of them. Yeah, thank you for playing.

I think the most disturbing part of this is the unbridled hypocrisy of most Democrats out there. This country isn't fighting over race issues, it's at war over values. You've got a litmus test on abortion that divides the country in thirds, with one third just not giving a damn. Pointing fingers because of race is an absurdity. Most Americans don't care if someone is black, white, Mexican, etc. - they care if the person is an uneducated boob. I'd love to see Howard Dean sit down for Easter Dinner with some kronked-out, ebonics speaking, bling-bling ghetto rap star or, better yet, some hillbilly in a spaghetti-o stained wife-beater that can recite all of Jeff Foxworthy's greatest hits. Face it. Democrats with money are just the same as Republicans with money - if they can write a check and feel better about something, rather than getting their hands dirty, they will. Quick, let's stop at a homeless shelter on Thanksgiving for a photo shoot. Yet at the end of the day, the churches are the ones out there getting their hands dirty and helping the poor.

And now, the closer. You want to know why you're going to lose the next set of elections in '06, even though the War on Terror has been a stretch and Bush's approval ratings are the lowest they've been in 6 years? Here you go, America, straight from the donkey's mouth:

The former Vermont governor also recently raised eyebrows when he told a group of progressives that Republicans "never made an honest living in their lives."

Screw the Democrats, I'd sooner vote for Pat Robertson. Howard Dean hates me.

Free at Last

2005-06-06T22:32:00.000-07:00

It is finally over. The last week and a half has been an absolute blur for me. May 30 was a holiday, so I sat around the house and watched TV. Tuesday was the start of my final week at the firm (and the begining of the KY era for PGE)... and then I found out I would be flying to Detroit to attend my grandmother's funeral. I had 24 hours to transition a massive RFP, 3 projects and a bunch of piddly crap, in addition to cleaning out my office. Did I mention that Wednesday was the final review for my calc final that I took tonight? Ugh. Red-eye to Detroit with a 5.5 hr layover in Dallas. 3 days with the family, flew back with another 5.5 hr layover in Dallas. Talk about painful. I'd sooner watch a 24 hour Larry Hagman/Ms. Ellie marathon that ride on that damn SkyTrain in the Dallas airport again. BBQ on Saturday, church and breakfast with friends, then dinner with more friends on Sunday. Calculus final today. I'm beat. But, I'm done.
Thank ya Jesus.

So, count on a couple of posts in the next couple of days, assuming I get out of bed before 10:00 AM or so :-) Thank you for your patience and well-wishes. Grandma was 97 and lived a great life.

Hot or Not

2005-05-26T05:23:00.000-07:00

Another gem from the b-school listserv:

Since I'm just a caveman and have never owned one of these "laptop" dealies...does anyone (current/former students in particular) have a suggestion as to what kind of bag to carry? In order to look "cool," I would prefer to use just a backpack for both computer and books. I'm afraid that if I haul around 1 pack for books and another bag with computer, I will be considered a "grad school dork" by all the undergrads. Is this 1-bag trick a reasonable expectation, or should I resign myself to lugging around 2 bags (thereby losing the admiration of all the undergrads [sniff])?

Good god, what a princess! Given I drop my laptop about as often as Paris Hilton drops her drawers, I was more concerned with finding something that might have padding inside, as opposed to wondering if I was going to make the cut for Grad School: Hot or Not? Luckily for me, someone sent their IBM emploee ID around and I picked up a backpack they recommended for $48. Yeah, I'm boring.

Jackass of the Year Award

2005-05-24T12:47:00.000-07:00

This year's recipient is Nathaniel Clevenger of Three Public. I have had the misfortune of working with Than on numerous occasions and the politest thing I can say based on my experiences with him is that he is profoundly lacking in professional ethics. I could go on for hours, but he'd probably call his lawyers and threaten to sue me; the guy is angrier than a three-legged pit bull with a rubber band tied around his sack. So, it brings me overwhelming joy to see him getting plastered in the news and on blogs across the country. Here's the story.

Than's PR agency was working with a Portland Development Commissioner on an exploratory committee to see if he could successfully run for office. Than's PR agency was working with a huge developer (Opus) on a major development in Portland. Than also had worked on behalf of the PDC itself in the past. So, Than's client wins a huge contract from Than's client, of whom Than's client is a member. While, I admit it smells funny, (and MSN, the Oregonian, Portland Tribune, etc. have all reported on it), I really can't believe that the commissioner involved (Matt Hennessee) would have done anything unethical. The guy is a solid, stand-up individual who has nothing but good intentions, and it is unfortunate that he got caught up in a situation that looks a lot worse than it surely is. Also, if I was Than, I'd probably be irritated that at least one of my clients was getting plastered because of my relationships, especially when he probably didn't do anything wrong to begin with. That's the background.

In a city like Portland, there are a handful of people that scurry around and turn every leaf over, hoping to find a pile of excrement that they can jump up and down and scream about. Well, one of them (a blogger) managed to turn over said leaf and find Than and confront him about the situation. After some jawing back and forth with the guy, Than appears to have either:
a) fallen down the stairs and landed head-first in front of his laptop
b) been mugged and left for dead at a keyboard in an internet cafe
c) had way to much to drink and was guilty of TWI (typing while intoxicated)
d) been abducted by aliens, who replaced his brain with bag of stale Cheetohs
e) all of the above
because Than had a complete meltdown and emailed the following message to the blogger, which I lift verbatim from the Portland Communique.

How many people did you employ? Or, did paying an intern to help your rumor-mongering business not factor in your parents monthly support of your hobby? But enough of this childishness, how about you and me in a public debate. You bring your slander and innuendos. I'll bring a group of friends and some chips 'cause I know you can’t really afford to buy snacks on your parent’s allowance. Oh, but you’ll have to crawl out from under that rock you live under to do it. Name the place, I'll bring my friends, you bring yours (if you have any). I'd like to see you address me in public the way you do in your site - you sissy. I'd say more, but am sure you'll print every word I write and I recognize children may be reading this. I know infants are. If you don’t set a date, I'll find you at Stumptown and we can make a big show of it. Game?

For anyone else on the planet that doesn't WORK IN PUBLIC RELATIONS, this might be funny. For someone who has makes his living on being politically savvy and playing connect the dots with power players, it's downright insane. There are some other great quotes from the email ("If I seemed flip flop, I am sorry for that. Human error. You do know what that is or is your capacity for human empathy completely gone? Perhaps a lack of real human contact? " is one of my favorites. Maybe Kerry should have used that), but I'm not going to recreate the wheel here. Suffice it to say, Than had a nuclear meltdown and someone finally beat him up like an East San Jose Dollar Store pinata. End of story. Errr, oops. No.

In a stroke of sheer PR genius, Than decides to attack the guy in the comments section of his thread. At this point, I'm falling out of the chair laughing. You've got a fairly high-powered PR guy trying to beat up a blogger, on his own blog. Hello! If you think Charlton Heston is a douschebag, you don't scream it from the rafters at a gun show. So, here's Jackass of the Year, hard at work in the comments section (cue whistling from "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly"):

OK, Bix. I'll bite. So clever with words. But, the challenge to publicly debate remains. I've read your site. You have a lot of the same folks in here. Some make sense. Some don't. So, in a nod to a John Ford plot line, I say we do this in person.

Let's see how articulate you are face-to-face. It's not a challenge to a duel, Bix. So, you want need to bulk up at the gym. You frankly sound a little paranoid. But, I think all of us are a little tired of webloggers who sling half-assed arguments while hiding behind a key board. I'm sick of advising clients to ignore people like you. Weblogs have got to stop hiding behind the first amendment when they feel it convenient.

Also, Your diatribe here is full of holes, mistakes, ridiculous fantasies (although, I do admire your creativity) and other specious claims. Some people are getting a little tired of your arrogant rantings, Bix. You don't do face-to-face, because that would mean you have actually have to speak with real live people. Where's your guts, man? Take all this clever angst you have and turn it into a real debate; one you can be proud of!

I have nothing to hide. So, let's make a date. It'll be for a good cause.

Again, this a guy that people pay lots and lots and lots of money to advise them on corporate and political communications. Response #4 in the line up comes from Portland Commissioner Randy Leonard, who appears to take offense from the "webloggers who sling half-assed arguments while hiding behind a keyboard line," given blogging is a hobby of his Oops. Than, it appears that other people read this blog, too. At this point, I've gone from a laughing fit to crying hysterically. As the bloggers rip Than's lifeless carcass to shreds, throwing body parts to the wind like a pack of famished hyenas, a lone defender rushes to his rescue. Again, read the whole thread above for the details. Than's valiant hero attacks said blogger and tries to bury the story. So the blogger, like anyone else in a similar situation would do, pulls the IP logs for his site and does some background searching (yes, I can do this to you, too). Surprise! It's one of Than's other clients, who happens to me married to one of the Three Public principals. After being outed, Than's knight in shining armor immediately posts a "we have had no official relationship with Than since January" response. The threads go on and on and on, and at this point, I'm starting to get bored. Than then threatens to sue everybody and begs the blogger to pull change his header. You see, now, when you do a search for PR guru to the stars "Nathaniel Clevenger" on Yahoo or Google, instead of finding his work with different clients, etc. you see all of the blog headlines! Bwahahahaha.

Needless to say, news in a blog world travels fast... and the above thread has been used repeatedly on different sites as examples of how not to handle PR. I have to tell you, I learned one of the hardest lessons in my life after Than threw me under a bus with a spurious email (yes, I've saved it). Sometimes, even when your integrity is questioned, you just have to grin and bear it and let a jackass like Than come out ahead. Sounds like Than could have used that lesson here... Karma sure is a bitch. Congratulations on your award, Than!

Metrosexual and Happy About It

2005-05-22T16:56:00.000-07:00

I completely torqued my back this weekend between piggyback rides, "jump-around", dancing and playing rocket ship with my daughter. So, I said screw it. I grabbed one of the bath bombs from Lush that I got my wife, cranked up the hot water and made a bath. I grabbed the latest Fortune and a beer and jumped in. As I started to relax, I hear "Hey! What are you doing in there? You smell like a woman!" Are you kidding me? I feel like I went 10 rounds in the ring against Rosie O'Donnell, with a six pack of Ho-ho's and a gallon of Yoohoo tied to my back and you're complaining that the bath smells "womanly?" Hell, I even brought a beer in with me!

It got me thinking. How many other things are guys supposed to deprive themselves of because it's not considered masculine? I just asked my wife what kinds of things I do that she thinks are borderline gay. "You mean besides taking girly bubble baths?" Yeah. Besides that. "Isn't that enough?" A nice, hot bubble bath is just the start. Here are a couple of other things that would undoubtedly raise an eyebrow with the teste police -

Watching Desperate Housewives. This one, I just don't get. Supposedly, it's not cool for men to be watching Desperate Housewives, especially with American Chopper on Sunday nights now. I'm supposed to watch some fat guy with a handlebar mustache polish his bike and swear at his kids instead of watching Eva Longoria bounce around for an hour in a halter top and short-shorts? Are you high? Teri Hatcher. Hello. Lois is actually HOTTER now. And god only knows that any episode where Nicolette Sheridan has more than 3 minutes of dialog instantly qualifies for Cinemax late night movie status. Screw you, I'm watching the women of Wisteria Lane.
Having any Fashion Sense. I've got a buddy in our Seattle office that is the prototypical NorthWestern male. I think he owns every sleeveless vest jacket outfit known to man. I wear cuff-links to work and he snickers. Again, which one of us looks like Al from Tool Time? And how is wearing a vest jacket manly? "I'm a lumberjack and I'm OK..."
Being a Foodie and/or Cooking. Another one that blows me away. Apparently masculine men are supposed to eat chops and potatoes. Anything else better be cooked by the wife, who is undoubtedly shoeless and expecting. Apparently, cooking poached salmon and white asparagus tips in dill sauce is for sissies. I eat chops, too, damnit! And I grill better than you do. You can drag your hairy knuckles all the way to KFC, I'm going to eat whatever the hell I want whenever I want. And if I have to watch the Food Network to do it, than so be it. Bam!
Getting Pedicures. O.k. I admit this one is a little on the edge, but think about it for a minute. You go in to a spa, soak your feet in hot water and get a 15 minute calf massage. Since when is getting a massage a bad thing? Do it at HairM and you get all the beer you can drink while you wait. Please.

I guess I just don't see what the big deal is. It's not like I'm running out to buy a copy of the Crying Game or listening to Melissa Etheridge or Show Tunes here. You know, if David Beckham can get away with painting his fingernails, somebody needs to cut me some slack for taking a bath. Don't hate me 'cause I'm beautiful.

She Went Pee-Pee in her Potty!

2005-05-18T14:15:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting at work this morning, up to my eyeballs with a housing finance collateral piece that I'm putting together when the phone rings.

"Hi honey! Guess what?"
uh, I don't know, can't you just tell me?
"You're never going to believe it!"
your parents just won the lottery and I don't have to work any more?
"Stupid. That'll never happen."
hrmmm. you're going to make steaks for dinner tonight and give me a 60 min back rub?
"Stupid. That'll never happen."
o.k. I give up.
"Your daughter went pee-pee in her potty!!!"

Instant cheering. The woman down the hall has a daughter the same age as mine and her kid has been using the crapper for 6 months. I've been suffering from potty anxiety attacks on behalf of my kid, so it's about time! Now we're even. Actually, my daughter knows more farm animal sounds than hers, so I'm in a great mood now.

*cheering some more* did she go poo-poo, too?
"No. Just a lot of pee-pee."
that's great! I can't wait to come home and see if she'll do it for me, too!

I triumphantly hang up the phone, smile beaming from ear to ear. First thought - what bottle of wine do I open to celebrate tonight? Hrmmm I've got a 2000 Domaine Drouhin Laurene that should be just about right - but that isn't going to go as well with steaks. I've got some Justin I'm trying to burn through, yet while the 85-88 rating in today's WS has me thankful that I stopped the wine club shipments, I'm still totally depressed I have a fridge full of their stuff. Then it hits me. No, I'm not talking the realization that I'm hopelessly neurotic about wine. I just realized I'm doing the happy dance because my daughter relieved herself in a plastic potty.

I'm getting old.

Sideways

2005-05-16T13:44:00.000-07:00

I finally got around to seeing the movie. Yes, I am, in fact, the last person in America to see it. I have a kid; I don't go to movies. So, I see 99% of my movies when they hit DirectTV Pay-Per-View, usually while drinking heavily and lounging around on the couch in my underwear. This occasion proved no different and actually inspired me to open a .375 of dessert wine after I finished off the regular bottle of wine. I finished the last 30 minutes on Sat. morning :-) On to thoughts about the movie.

I've heard everything under the sun with this one, so I really didn't know what to expect. I can say that I didn't really think it was the second coming of Christ, as most people were hyping it up to be. The ending absolutely sucked, and let's get real here - how cool is any movie about Solvang going to be? Honestly, it was George Costanza as a wine snob and a good looking Kramer wandering through the wine country which brings me to a side point - Seinfeld is the basis of all good screenwriting. Jerry is Gandalf, George is the Sam, Elaine is Frodo, Kramer is Golum and Newman is Sauron. Talk amongst yourselves.

So what's the deal with the gratuitous nudity in the movie? If you're really going to take the hit for an R movie, don't you at least want to have some good looking people doing the sex scene? I'm sorry, but the only thing worse than having to watch that behemoth of a woman screaming "F*** me in the a** 'cause I've been a bad girl" is watching Lothar, king of the tow truck drivers, give her the pounding. Gee, the green beanie is a nice touch. It distracted me for at least a tenth of a second during the 20 second naked frontal scene of Lothar running to the car. Yech.

I have to admit, there were some great lines in the movie. The "not drinking any fucking merlot" line was funny, even if it was rewritten because the scene would have blown ass if left as originally written. You KNOW it originally said "white zin" and the script writer said "hrmm, we've cast Maya as Mile's wine counterpart and the other chick works at a winery, so what's the next big sissy wine you can think of?" Other good lines - Miles describing a wine as a mix of grapes, stems and mice that passed as mouthwash and, of course, Jack's "One condom for you, three condoms for me" line, only to ask for Miles' condom back the next day.

For me, the greatest tragedy of the movie was the realization that so many people go through life without doing anything spectacular. They just go on, day to day, with their hoe-dee-doe lives and never do anything of merit. Yippee, you drove to 2 hours to Solvang for your bachelor party. Good god. Go do something exciting. If you want to take a road trip to nowhereville, go stand on a street corner in Winslow, Az. (Been there, done that) Go to Ireland and get drunk in a foreign country. Nothing like waking up from a hangover to "yer lookin' a wee bit under the weather there laddie!" Train for a marathon. Better yet, take off your pants and run down Castro Street in San Francisco. You'll be a world-class sprinter in no time!

In summary, 7 out of 10. It tried too hard to have a plot. Leave Miles as the angry little man that drinks the spit bucket and the movie is 10x better. Instead, we're all waiting for the sequel, which I can already tell you will have Miles and Maya getting married and yet another road trip. This time, it'll be through Napa and Jack will see how many migrant grape pickers he can bed at the same time, while riding on the Sterling tram. The bar scenes will be filled at Bistro Jeanty and the winery names will be changed to protect the innocent (Mondabi, Obus, etc.) Zzzzzzz. I'd ask for thoughts, but none of you wanks ever post comments anyways.

Slow Love

2005-05-13T10:06:00.000-07:00

I'm listening to some freak music here at work. Downloaded "Slow Love" by Doc Box & B. Fresh. Song is 15 years old from a couple of one hit wonders, one of whom went fugitive status after shooting a cop. So, I'm laughing because the lyrics are so bad and I decide to IM the lyrics to a girlfriend as a joke.

Standing with me by the couch and sexy looks on your face
Like saying, “Take me, I’m yours” and “Love me down to the base”
I laid you down, kissed your navel, then moved up above
From your breast to your neck, hit the lights and make
slow love

Her response KILLED me.

"i can tell you ain't talkin' to me - slow love? righteous, freaky circus sex - maybe."

Blackjack and Hookers

2005-05-12T12:10:00.000-07:00

Quote of the day is a rerun from Bender on Futurama: "Yeah well, I'm gonna go build my own theme park with blackjack and hookers. In fact, forget the park." Yeah, it's just one of those days.

French Humor

2005-05-11T11:38:00.000-07:00

Today's bit of humor is provided by French T.V., which broadcast a collection of sock puppets being blessed by the pope in the name of the Father, Son and the Third Reich. Link
The skit was followed by another sketch featuring a puppet wearing a beret and holding a baguette. The puppet was quoted as saying "I'm sorry we're a bunch of pussies" to wild applause.

Marketing Retreats - Run Away.

2005-05-07T09:05:00.000-07:00

Yes, I'm a complete assclown and have not updated the blog for a while. Bad Drew. Blame it on the marketing retreat that pulled me up to Seattle for two days and then blame Mother's Day, which pulled me back down to San Jose for 3 more. While we're at it, blame the Democrats. I'm sure they've done something in the last 5 minutes to piss me off, and they're more than deserving. Besides About a month back, I got an email from our events coordinator at work telling me to "set aside Thursday, May 5th for another exciting marketing retreat." I'm not quite sure what kind of response she was hoping to elicit from me, but I would imagine she would have achieved similar results with "It's time for your annual colonoscopy." So, I make my travel plans and book a room at one of the crappiest hotels in Seattle - the Renaissance Madison. Besides resting easy because I saved my firm $29.95 a night, Marriott is a having a 10,000 bonus point promotion right now and I'll do anything to get free stuff. Yes, I'm a whore.

Two days out. I'm on a conference call with my group and one of our directors tries to set the bar even lower than normal by noting "Given our current situation, I'm not sure you'll find this as substantive as past retreats, but we're going to go ahead with it anyways." Gee, thanks for the pep talk Chet. I can't wait to blow two days of my life in a conference room and now you're telling me it's going to be worse than the "let's talk about what makes me happy" retreat. Can I just jump out of a window now, or would you prefer I wait until we're off site?

Our last two retreats were hosted by, quite possibly, the worst consultants I have ever met in my life. For the life of me, I can't remember their names, so I'll refer to them as "Captain Rayon and the Crank Queen." Captain Rayon's name is Elroy, Elbow, Eldon or something close - just think weird name and a 55 year old man that puts on a rayon shirt EVERY time he leaves the house. As far as the Crank Queen goes, picture a cheerleading session hosted by one of the Golden Girls after 37 cups of coffee. In general, I'm about as cheery as Pat Robertson at a Marilyn Manson concert when it comes to anything marketing-related, so having a cranked-up version of Rue McClanahan asking me if I'm "ready ready ready" to be a team player at 8:00 AM is just ASKING for problems. We did the normal assortment of gay teambuilding exercises like introducing yourself to your colleagues (Hi my name is Andrew. I like drinking excessively, making fun of people on the internet and gentle spanking). I think they even forced us to sing something together. Needless to say, kill me now.

Retreat day gets off to a great start. I'm on 4 hours sleep and life is a little fuzzy. Fortunately for me, it wasn't quite as bad as the head of our graphics department, who literally ran into me while he was stumbling home from the bar at 11:30 at night. Whole other story. My good buddy Dave is set to pick me up for breakfast at 7:00 AM, so I volunteered to pay. "Volunteered to pay" is a bit of a stretch, given I expsense everything, but it's the thought that counts. Well, jackass calls at 7:05 to tell me that he's going to be late. Luckily, I've just checked out of my room and I'm standing in the cold already. 7:10. 7:15. 7:18, the phone rings. "Uh, what hotel are you in?" Hrmm, I don't know, the one I'm in EVERY FUCKING TIME I COME TO SEATTLE? "Oh yeah. Uh, where is it?" After walking a block and a half, I finally catch up to his car and we head off to eat. "Dude, we are SOOO going to Etta's. It's the bomb." Apparently, it's also CLOSED. The retreat starts in an hour and we're still looking for somewhere to eat... Ended up having a great breakfast in the Market and Dave drove us to the conference center. Thanks for the ride, Dave. Next time, maybe we can to the conference center where the RETREAT IS AT. So, I pick up all my luggage and schlep it back to the truck and drive across town to the correct venue this time. Gee, what are friends for?

I'm ready to scream as I walk into the room 10 minutes late. The facilitator set out colored foam blocks in front of everyone and then proceeds to talk about our color energies and how we should consider them when interacting with other people. I immediately grab the foam block and wonder if I can use it to choke the graphics guy, who stumbles into the room an hour late. Why not? If Oprah can do random acts of kindness, what should stop me from doing random acts of violence? Then, the highlight of the day. We get our personality reports back. Apparently, I don't play well with others. I am one of two "red" people in the room, characterized as highly aggressive, impulsive and overly-confident. I leave people in my wake and am not sensitive of other people's feelings. Well now there's a fucking newsflash. Let me call my therapist, I think we've made a breakthrough. Sufficiently amazed with our consultant, I proceed to take everybody else at my table's color blocks and build a tower in front of me with them. Yippee. Time to catch my plane and reflect on the fact that I can explain to my wife that it's ok for me to be an ass because it's my natural personality - just ask the guy we paid a small fortune to in exchange for some foam blocks and a psyche lecture.

One last note. Probably should use for a separate post, but at this rate, who knows when that is going to be. A friend that reads the blog sent me this link - http://www.signonsandiego.com/news/world/20050428-1231-explodingtoads.html I immediately see the "explodingtoads.html" and get excited because I'm expecting one of those shockwave games where you get to smash things with a hammer. They're cool. Instead, I hit the link and there's a blow-up of a real dead frog/toad in living color with a long, drawn-out article talking about birds ripping open frog bellies, causing them to balloon and explode. Gee Carolyn, I'm happy I was EATING LUNCH when I opened that one up. Nothing quite like "hungry crows are pecking out their livers" while you're poking through a turkey sandwich. So, please enjoy the article on Frog-gras and feel free to send other exciting articles my way!

Coming Soon

2005-05-03T07:35:00.000-07:00

Half-way through a post. Should have it by tonight...

Full of Bologna

2005-04-25T14:46:00.000-07:00

Today's Headline - (CNN) -- Customs agents protecting the U.S. border with Mexico found and destroyed more than 800 pounds of bologna hidden under clothes in a man's suitcases, the Department of Homeland Security said Monday.
http://www.cnn.com/2005/US/04/25/smuggled.bologna/index.html

7 things wrong with this story (I was going to do 10, but I just got dumped on here at work again):

Some guy is carrying 845 lbs of bologna with him. Are you kidding me? "Excuse me, are you just happy to see me, or is that a roll of bologna in your pants?
He was taking the bus. You people mock me because I'm above riding busses. HELLO! People take bologna on the bus with them. Talk about riding the shame train. It's not just dirty people smell you have to worry about these days - it's the Subway Sandwich smell that really gets me.
Is this story evidence of a bologna black market? Perhaps a black bologna market, if he's sneaking it across the border in his pants? My weiner has a first name...
The Department of Homeland Security was involved. WTF? Did they catch him with their highly trained bologna-sniffing dogs? Perhaps a fat lady on the bus ratted him out because he wouldn't share?
"The man planned to sell the food at a local swap meet" Again, you've GOT to be kidding me. Would you buy a 10 lb roll of bologna at the flea market? That's why God made Costco. Once more, for the slow people: Churros, Yes. Bologna, No.
"In addition to the danger pork-based bologna could pose from animal diseases such as classical swine fever" Swine fever? How about the risk of catching gigantic-assitits?
CNN is reporting this story. We have trains running into buildings in Tokyo, soldiers dying in Iraq and a stock market that's flopping around like an epileptic hooker at a Pink Floyd laser light show and CNN has this as one of it top 6 news items.

This is clearly evidence of a liberal media. Any self-respecting conservative would try to keep a lid on a story about an illegal immigrant trying to smuggle his "smoked meat" across the border. God only know, the Family Research Council will probably have a closed circuit broadcast to address the looming threat of smuggled pork byproducts to our national judicial system. Until next time...

Free Cat

2005-04-22T14:50:00.000-07:00

Thanks Dave!

Smoke Signals

2005-04-20T07:20:00.000-07:00

Time flies when you're working, taking midterms, being a dad and trying to move across country... I initially was going to write a post on a Wall Street Journal editorial piece that appeared in yesterday's paper, but realized that my thoughts would be preserved on the net for all time. That's probably not a good thing. The short version of the article - the secretary of housing makes the claim that blacks subsidize the white man's retirement program (Social Security), tying in death rates to retirement age restrictions. Given blacks make up 7-8% of the US population, not to mention the actual individual conrtibution blacks make (given they have had less oppotunities for a good education, limiting them to the worst jobs, at which they are paid less than whites - one of his arguments), I think our secretary of housing is full of CRAP. I'm hoping next week he'll write an op-ed on caucasians subsidizing welfare, which seems a bit more realistic. I know, I'm going straight to hell.

So, we have a new pope. I'm sure everybody was surprised to see Ratzinger come out as Benedict XVI. The whole process was about as anti-climatic as watching Titanic and wondering if Leonardo was going drown at the end. On the bright side, at least you got to see Kate's breasts in the movie. Ratzinger was John Paul II's enforcer (quite literally) and was nicknamed "the Grand Inquisitor" on more than one occasion, leading him to actually refute the title in an interview. Given his German roots (archbishop of Munich, theologian extraordinaire), I'm surprised other nicknames weren't used... Ratzinger has censured more people than anyone else on record and single handedly destroyed the liberation theology movement. Instead of dealing with tens of thousands of Catholics dying of AIDS in Africa or the church's "hands-on" approach to junior high catechism in the US, I'm sure we'll see him coming out on a host of other relevant issues instead, like women as deacons (you're at least a century away from women as priests, so let's see if they can bring the towels out to the priest), our Lady of the Underpass (http://www.cnn.com/2005/US/04/20/mary.underpass.ap/index.html) and Our Lady of the Grilled Cheese Sandwich (http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/6511148).

At this point, you're thinking "Wow, he's clearly racist (para 1). He hates Catholics, too. (the rest). If he starts talking about big noses and corned beef, I'm outta here." No, I'm not a Catholic hater. I guess the problem for me is that when I think of Il Papa, I think of John Paul II. I think of the pope that brought communism to its knees in Poland, which set off a global chain reaction that lead to "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down that wall". I think of the pope that visited the faithful in a myriad of countries, inspiring millions as he drove around in the popemobile. I think of the man that somehow found a way to forgive his would-be assassin. Honestly, I think of the man that transcended the papacy. Now, I see an angry, ruler-slapping man, following in his footsteps. It's just disappointing, that's all. It's like hoping for a visionary and getting Jerry Falwell. Must have been how the Demos felt after 8 years of Clinton and then Gore won the nomination. If only Ratzinger had invented the internet...

Holy Anal Retentive Batman!

2005-04-12T06:48:00.000-07:00

As many of you know, I'm throwing in the towel on the job and going back for an MBA, hence the "Man Whore for a Good Pinot Noir" alternative title. One of the things my school does to get you excited is set up a mailing alias for all current admits so you can bounce ideas, questions, problems, etc. off the rest of the incoming students. It's been a source of endless entertainment for me and several of my friends that I forward the good ones to. Today's selection is from Rohit (name changed so I don't get expelled - Rohit is actually a plastic surgeon friend in Texas) and is titled:

Plan for the research on housing and family matters and then lets divide the work

Apparently Rohit found the mailing list about 3 months too late and missed the first 2000 emails dealing with renting an apartment while attending school. After attending the school's social weekend, Rohit decides to take the initiative to organize a group of students to do research on local apartments because "I spent getting more info on the visa process and finding out more and more about (school)", which roughly translates to "I was wearing a lamp shade and still passed out on the floor at 2:00 in the afternoon because I partied too much at the Saturday night finale and I missed the apartment tours." So, after noting that "all of us are spending a lot of time on similar things and wasting a hell of a lot of time", he decides to put together a checklist and rating system that should be filled out by the mailing list to evaluate each apartment complex in Durham. And so the list begins:

1. Condition
2. Security
3. Safety
4. Noise
5. Landlord

Fairly typical stuff. Good job, Ro.

14. Website
15. Bills Inclusive of

Website? Ok. I'm guessing he's thinking that it would be convenient for students not in the local area, but I haven't come across too many apartment complexes with their own websites. I'm kind of lost as to what he's looking for with #15. Inclusive of what?

40. Opinion of the admits who have visited (scale 0-4)
44. Rating of member 4 of the group researching the apartment

Hold on there, Tonto. 4 different people researching each apartment, apart from people who live there? How big of a survey are we going for? Isn't this information in the binder they sent us, anyways?

49. Countrywise breakup of (school) FY students
50. # of (school) FY students with spouses/significant others
51. # of (school) FY students with children
52. # of (school) FY single students
53. # of (school) FY students sharing apartments

*knock, knock* "Hi, I'm filling out this survey on behalf of (school) and I'd like to know if you have an hour and a half to answer 87 questions regarding your apartment complex." On the bright side, someone definitely has a career in consulting ahead of them. *snicker*

64. Names, contact nos, email and country of the admits looking for roommates/apartment sharing in the complex

"Ve are compiling und registry. May I see your papers, please?" At this point, I'm poking myself with a pin and thanking god that I bought a 2000 square foot house, with my mortgage (including insurance and property taxes) coming in at $912 a month. I think Rohit looked back and reflected on his email, because the next line is "BUT, ONLY IF THERE ARE ANY TAKERS FOR THE CONFUSION DESCRIBED ABOVE." Wow. Newsflash Chet, aren't you the author of that confusion?

Lest anyone think he's finished passing down direction from on high, Rohit ends with "And I think that first all of us who have sent their deposits or have decided to send their deposits to the B school must enter our names and contact details in a new excel sheet in this group or alternatively we can add a new field to the existing excel sheet for contact details. We can just enter a Y in this filed for having decided to join ." Let me clarify, for those of you in the audience that chose to attend Wharton instead of (school). "I'd like to make another spreadsheet listing everyone who has sent in a deposit and then indicate whether or not they're going to the school." Holy mother of Excel. How many spreadsheets do you need?!? Why don't we have the researchers take a thumb print, too, so we can biometrically identify their results, thus ensuring that a less-than-worthy apartment complex doesn't sneak a fake review in? Another interesting question - do a lot of people send in $1500 deposits and decide not to go?

The next email in the thread was from John, responding to Rohit's proclamation - "Hey, if you log into the admit site, you'll notice there's a survey based on feedback from current and former residents that has already been completed for you." Oops. Buddy, there will be plenty of time to make spreadsheets in your immediate future...

Use Protection

2005-04-10T12:25:00.000-07:00

Prefacing this with "I love my daughter more than anything else and wouldn't trade her for the world." Ok, maybe for a couple of cases of wine and plasma HDTV with a DirectTV Game Day subscription, but that'll never happen...

This whole thing started because of a commercial. Black background on the screen and then names of STD's pop up. Herpes. Aids. Gonorrhea. Etc. Point was to convince people to wear condoms. Clearly, the ad campaign was designed by some single guy in his late 20's thinking of all the creepy crawlies he could catch from a "two Cosmos and I'm on my back, three and I'm planning the honeymoon" woman at the local club. I'd like to suggest a more effective campaign - black background, white text - "Albertsons." Fade to a kid kicking and screaming on the floor because you won't buy her Count Chocula cereal. "Chili's" Fade to a kid throwing food across the restaurant at other people, with salsa dripping from her hair. "Rack of lamb at your favorite restaurant" No fade, just a voice saying "Your lamb, sir" followed by "Uh-oh, I made a poopie." If I was a high-schooler and saw that, I'd wear a hefty bag over myself before sex. And that's just the beginning.

Why do I have to dress my kid up with matching stuff when we go out? We went to the beach yesterday and she had matching FILA sweat pants and a jacket, which matched her socks, shoes and t-shirt. Did I mention she had matching pigtail bows? We even had a matching "Very Important Princess" diaper bag to go with it, instead of the usual baby blue one. I don't get it. My daughter is content to dress up like Scuba Dave and wear a red plastic bowl on her head for a hat. Really. Why do we have to color coordinate outfits to hair ribbons and socks? The kid isn't even TWO YEARS OLD. I could cut holes in a pillow case, drop it over her head and we'd be fine. Think of all the money I'd save. But no. Baby clothes from Old Navy and Baby Gap. I'm too cheap to shop at either place, but we're out spending $75 an outfit for something she'll grow out of in two months. Can you tell that I'm drinking at 12:41 in the afternoon?

Potty training. This, in and of itself, should be enough an argument to wear protection. We have at least 5 different kiddy books (all $7.95 a piece) on the subject of pooping. Now I don't know about you, but the last thing I want to do after a long day at work is come home and read "Everybody Poops" while I'm trying to scarf down dinner. "And Prudence has a little hole for making poopoo." That's an ACTUAL line in one of our literary masterpieces. Even more exciting is actually trying to keep her on the mini-crapper while I read these things to her. Yes, we went out and bought a special plastic potty, which even comes with a battery operated flushing sound when you pull the little handle down. Give me an hour with your high school aged kid. Screw protection, they'll NEVER have sex.

Finally (I'm running out of port), I'd like to broach one last topic. Depravity on the net. I realize that most of you know there are some sick things out on the internet. Do yourself a favor. Don't ever get a detailed web counter if you have a web page or a blog. In addition to tracking all of the people that hit your site (26 unique IPs and 84 hits in 3 days here), it also tracks how they come in. So, if you type in my address, I see "Self Referring/Bookmark" or if you click a link like Mercury Sound, I see where you come from. More disturbing, if you search for a string of words on Yahoo and bounce in, I see that, too. So, some loser from Canada ended up here by looking up "plumpers going shit" on Yahoo. After I got up from the floor (I couldn't stop laughing), I did, in fact, look up "plumpers going shit" on Yahoo only to find that I'm listed in the #4 spot because of a combination of words. Luckily, Janeane Garofalo is the first link listed, which I get endless satisfaction from. I'm sure she's off enjoying a carton of ho-ho's and lamenting four more years of Bush. The second link was derived from a search (also from a Canadian) on the following: erotic stories%2C babysitters changing diapers. Mr. toronto-HSE-ppp4310099.sympatico.ca , I'm going to pray a special prayer for you tonight. Very Special.

Sorry to end on a downer, but just couldn't help it on this one. Just think of me trying to eat dinner while reading "And Prudence has a little hole for making poopoo" and hopefully that will put a smile on your face. I need more port.

Sex, Lies and the Da Vinci Code

2005-04-07T05:44:00.000-07:00

I cannot begin to tell you how many people have come up to me and asked "So, what did you think of the Da Vinci Code - wink, wink, nudge, nudge, eh? Jesus was a daddy!" I don't know if it's just one of those side perks that comes with a religious studies/history degree or what, but I've gotten it from at least 10 people and it's irritating. Like I have time to sit around and read a piece of fluff while working 50 hrs a week, taking a calculus class and attempting to be a dad/husband. Needless to say, the stars finally aligned and I found a copy of the book on a buddy's bookshelf as I was walking out the door for an 8 hour plane ride. After reading the book, I am once again reassured that the general population is comprised of blithering idiots with credit cards and a complete inability to discern fact from fiction.

Rather than bore you with long, drawn out theological and historical arguments against the book, I'm going to bore you with my thoughts about people who read it and think they've opened a doorway to a new spiritual world. Let's begin with THIS IS A FICTIONAL WORK. If you go to the bookstore and find a book in the fiction section, it is a made-up story. There may be some true points in the book (Yes, Virginia, there was a Jesus), but if Jesus has two kids, an angry wife and a cave with a white picket fence, there should be little flashing red lights in the back of your head. Sure, there are legends to support different aspects of the book, much as there are stories of a Loch Ness monster, a moon landing film studio in LA and my friend Sherman losing his virginity. Ironically, the three stories I just mentioned actually have more credibility than half of the Da Vinci Code (save the Sherman story).

I guess that's just the way things go. Oliver Stone makes a movie and everyone is convinced that JFK is gospel now. Sideways comes out and people start going to restaurants asking if the waitresses in the movie work there. I almost died when a restaurant manager was quoted as saying "People are so stupid. If you go to New Zealand, are you going to walk around asking if anyone has seen Bilbo Baggins? IT'S A MOVIE!" So, sadly, people are wandering around thinking "Wow, Jesus had a wife. Wow, the church goes around killing people. Wow, there are Hobbits in New Zealand. I wonder if Frodo is from the royal bloodline and knows where the Holy Grail is?"

So, as a service to my reader base of 4 people, I'm going to throw a couple of things out for you.

There are hundreds of gospels. Sure, we have 4 in the New Testament, but everyone and their monkey wrote a gospel, put a recognizable name on it, and floated it around. Think of it like blogs. There are gospels of Thomas, Mary, James, Ralph... you name it.
When you're reading historical texts, you're not getting the Walter Cronkite version of the news. That's just not how people wrote. Ever wonder why the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew turns out to be a Sermon on the Plane in Luke? Mountains were important in Jewish theology. Think Moses. Just like why there are two angels in one ressurrection account and one in another. You needed two witnesses to corroborate a statement to make it admissible in Roman courts. How many angels were actually there is irrelevant to the story.
Developing point two further - gospels were written with a clear agenda. The Da Vinci code pulls from one that establishes women in a position of authority, hence God having a wife. The book doesn't mention this, but remember Jewish bloodlines are traced through the mother, not the father.
Jesus as divine didn't pop up in 325 with Constantine. Read the Gospel of John in your bible. Read Justin Martyr. Read pretty much anything from ~100 AD on. The Cliff Notes version is that Christianity was heavily influenced by Greek philosophy. John 1 and the Logos doctrine is straight Neo-Platonism adapted to Jesus. Saying it magically appeared 200 years later is ludicrous.
The church did lots of bad things over the years. When you have 2000 years of history, people tend to focus on the extremes, not the day to day life of the popes. Who is going to remember 400 years of pope's planting gardens when you can talk about the Crusades and the Inquisition?
The church would LOVE to have a collection of scrolls talking about the bloodline of Christ pop up. Hello. They're fighting for relevancy in a world that doesn't care about church any more. The Dead Sea Scrolls were huge for the church. To think the Pope is going to go around having people killed to keep 2000 year old documents from surfacing is just crazy.

OK, I'm done. Feel free to blast me with comments.

Mixed Bag

2005-03-30T07:45:00.000-08:00

Going to be unplugged for 5 days, so I thought I'd update today with a status report.

Marshall Manning's Magnum Madness turned out to be a blast. All of that work to come up with a great bottle of wine, and I walk in and see that some jackass brought a big bottle of Sutter Home White Zin and plopped it down on the pinot table. Yeah, I laughed :-) It's always interesting to go to these things, especially when you only know 1 other person in the room (Marshall, who I met on the internet). I'm showing up for the wine and my wife is praying to god "Magnum Madness" wasn't a code phrase for some weird wine-lover's swinger party. Ironically, some people from Greensboro, NC had flown in for the event, so it looks like we've started our new friend network in NC already!

Started my Calc class on Monday night. It took me NINETY minutes to get to class from the office. WTF? Am I back in the Bay Area or something? I finally get to class (20 minutes late) and the instructor is in her early 20's. You know you're getting old when your first reaction is to wonder what you were doing with your life when your teacher was in diapers. Great opening lines "I noticed that a lot of you are taking this class (calc for business) to satisfy a calc requirement for Business School. Well, I know a lot about math, but not much about business. Let me take that back, I'm going after my real estate license." Lemme get this straight - you've got a class full of highly educated, type-A personalities and you tell them you're trying to get a real estate license? I know, I'm not trying to offend any real estate agents out there, but come on now. That's like saying "I want to be a porn star. I know a lot about sex, but it's usually with myself. And the camera adds 100 lbs to my rear." *screaming* I get this for 2 months, twice a week.

On the work side, the head of my department got fired. Nothing like having the firm managing partner address the group with "well, he's decided to move on, completely of his own volition" while he's standing next to her with that "who put the rabid badger in my pants" look. In the meantime, the rest of the department is standing around trying to figure out what the funny red circles painted on their foreheads are for. "Is that a bindhi on your forehead or are you happy to see me?" 54 working days and counting.

Magnum Overdrive

2005-03-26T07:15:00.000-08:00

Well, it’s been a week and a half since the last post. Blame work, a sick kid, a sick wife and everything else under the sun. I know, next time I should post a tidbit to hold you over. Believe me, the thought crossed my mind, especially when I heard that Michael Jackson’s secret porn stash was a collection that included titles like “Plumpers” and “Big Women Touch Their Toes.” It would be have been easy – “Welcome to Coffee Blog. I’m busy now, so talk amongst yourselves. Here’s something to get you started: ‘Fat women in pornography – why bother?’” I know. Bad Drew.

Parents came up last night and the wife and I have a hall pass for the evening. On the schedule? Marshall Manning’s March Magnum Madness. Marvelous! Ticket for admission: a magnum. (For those of you wine challenged people out there, a magnum is a 1.5 L bottle. For those of you EXCEEDINGLY stupid people, that’s 2 bottles in one.) The twist here is that while I have a nice little wine collection, I don’t own a single magnum. And so the chaos begins.

Picking out a bottle for an “offline” (collection of wine snobs/aspiring alcoholics) is kind of a pain in the ass. It’s not like visiting the parents’ house on Christmas, where “anything pink” goes. If only it was that easy. Instead, you’re walking into a house filled with semi-pretentious whack-a-doos that spend the majority of their free time posting tasting notes on wine boards and arguing about mailing lists. (Did I mention I recently hit 575 posts at VinoCellar and am well on my way to hitting “barrel taster” status? *cough*) Going to these things is always an agonizing affair because I end up going through each and every bottle I own, trying to figure out which wine will play the best but won’t put a permanent dent in my wine collection. These gatherings are torturous affairs, because you’re expected to bring one of your own prized possessions, but end up drinking a half a glass, at most, of it. It’s impossible to bring something too good, given there will always be someone with that hard to find bottle, 6 cases total production, that was stolen from the cellars of George Latour by the team from Mission Impossible and then smuggled on a rowboat back to the states in a temperature/humidity controlled single bottle tote. Bringing a mediocre bottle is a risk too – remember who you’re dealing with here. “I saw that bottle that Andrew brought on sale at SAFEWAY last week. My God, how awful. I haven’t bought retail since Mondavi pissed away his estate with Opus!” Tie in the fact that I’m overly neurotic and spend hours on end rearranging my fridge by grape varietal, producer or vintage and you’ve got an obsessive-compulsive dream vacation. I’ve got a month and a half to agonize.

As I’m chewing my fingernails down to the bone trying to figure out where to pick up a good magnum, an email from AWineStore serendipitously arrives in my inbox. First line of the mail? 1999 Woodward Canyon Old Vines Cabernet Magnum - $100. I almost have a stroke. While 1999 isn’t a LONG time to age in a magnum, it’s long enough. Woodward Canyon is a great producer of WA cab, which means I get a quality wine and it’s going to be 20% cheaper than CA counterparts, so the quality/price ratio is going to be a lot better. Wine Spectator gave it a 92, so I’m doing cartwheels. $100 is the perfect price point for a magnum, as well. Woodward has brand recognition, so people can tell you’re not cheap, but you’re also not selling your car to get in to the party. I’m on Cloud 9. I call up and put the order in. Surprise, they can deliver it to my office (I’m visiting Seattle) at 5:30 that evening. This is too easy; it’s like buttah.

5:30 rolls around and I’m downstairs in front of the office. I’ve got 6:00 reservations with another developer at the Metropolitan Grill. Waiting. It’s 40 degrees outside, light drizzle. Of course, everyone and their monkey is leaving at 5:30 and every last one of them asks me why I’m waiting outside in the rain. “I’m waiting for someone to drop off a bottle of wine.” “You’ve got a dealer in Seattle? We’ve got people to help you with these things… Hah!” “Sod off.” Ten minutes go by. I’m starting to get irritated. I have no idea who I am looking for or what car they’re driving, so I’m checking out every one that drives by. The cop across the street has been looking at me funny and is undoubtedly trying to figure out if I’m working the corner of Fourth and Madison. Ten more minutes go by. I’m cold. I’m wet. I’m really irritated. I go back upstairs, pack up my stuff and head for the Met. As I’m running for the elevator, I hear “Andrew, please dial the switch board. Andrew, please dial the switchboard.” Sure enough, the wine delivery is here, 25 minutes late. Rush down to the lobby, grab the bottle, bring it back upstairs (yeah, I’m going to bring a magnum of wine over to the Met and explain to both my dinner date and the waiter why we’re not opening it) and run over 10 minutes late. Next morning, I unwrap all the tissue to check out the bottle. It’s not a 1999, it’s a 2001.
If you bought a 2001 Mustang and the car dealership gave you one of those goofy looking 2003 box-car Mustangs, you’d be upset, right? Well, same thing goes for wine. I’m spending $100 on a bottle of wine, and I want the that got the rave reviews, not the one that got rated in the high eighties. I call to complain. They’re very sorry, but will have the right bottle shipped to me next week. Fast forward to next week. They’re very sorry, but don’t have shipping containers for magnums. Need to find something to ship it in and they’ll have it next week. Fast forward to next week. Apparently every distributor in Seattle claims to have this bottle, but alas, nary a one can find it. They’ll have it to me by next week. Fast forward two weeks. Party is on Saturday. WHERE’S MY $#%@^@ WINE? Apparently, Jesus Christ himself came back and personally removed every last remaining magnum of 1999 Woodward Canyon from the face of the planet, so they’re going to have to find something else. Fine. Send me anything. Hell, I’ll even take the 2001; I just don’t want to show up without a bottle. The store gives me 2 options – a 1999 Heitz Bella Oaks or something else that was crappy and had a “drink by 2003” recommendation, which the store included in the email! If you seen any posts on Heitz recently, they’ve all started out with “How the mighty have fallen” or “Is it just me, or has Heitz descended to new lows?” That leaves me in a classic rock – Drew – hard place position. Heitz has a cool label, so Heitz it is. Friday afternoon, at 4:30, the bottle arrives. I started getting irritated about the whole travel fatigue thing, then I realized, hey, I’m only getting half a glass of this anyways!

Vertigo!

2005-03-16T12:44:00.000-08:00

U2 is, hands down, my favorite rock group. No, I don't feel like going on in a Ratisheresque prattle for 3 hours about the meaning of the word "rock." U2 just gets it done. Now they're going on tour. First reaction is to put on my cobalt blue "The Fly" sunglasses, slick my hair back and jump on Ticketmaster.com and start hitting refresh. A week early. Yeah, yeah, sod off. I'm excited. Saturday, bloody Saturday finally rolls around and at 9:59 AM, I'm sitting in front of my machine, logged in and refreshing away on two screens. My buddy in CA is doing the same and his wife is actually logged on in Canada, trying. It's a Beautiful Day.

There are NO tickets available for the first 5 minutes.

Ticketmaster's site slows to a crawl. At this point, I'm giving better odds on a paraplegic rolling his way to a 100 yard dash finish faster than getting a response screen from Ticketmaster. All I get is "processing . . . 3 more minutes." Finally, after 3 more minutes - "We're sorry. There are no seats available at this time." Hello? I asked for 2 General Admission seats. I didn't get greedy. I'm not asking for seats next to each other. I just want TWO seats. Tried again. Same message. Panic sets in. 2 Best Available. "We're sorry. There are no seats available at this time." At this point my daughter is getting excited with me, and starts yelling "fuh-erz" over and over again while clapping her hands. I can only imagine the looks we'll get from her Sunday school babysitters if they realize what she just learned from daddy. Diversionary tactics - "Go get Elmo!!!" She's gone.

I spend the next 90 minutes refreshing the ticket selection. At the 7 minute mark, Ticketmaster offers me the opportunity to sit next to the rafters for a mere $90, where I can tap along on the roof to "Where the Streets Have No Name," because I'm so far away from the damn stage. Not going to happen. Refresh. Refresh. Refresh. On the off times I actually DO get through, the seats are all row YY in the third level. TICKETMASTER CAN BITE ME. Other two people had the same result, with fewer hits on the third level seats than I did.

Imagine my surprise when I jump over to eBay that evening, to find the multiple brokers selling 8 different sets of tickets. WTF is that all about? I firmly believe that Ticketmaster sells off x number of tickets above face value to scalpers for resale. I hate them, but I really want to go to the damn concert. So, I put in a bid for $205 for 2 tickets that cost $49.50 a piece. Add in air fare (yeah, gonna be in NC when they finally roll around to playing in Portland) and I'm looking at $600 for the wife and I to go to a concert. It's no longer a beautiful day. I go back an hour later and some douschebag named BonoIsMyDaddy has outbid me and raised the total to $395. Needless to say, the closest I'm getting to the Vertigo Tour is going to be the concert DVD on Amazon.com. I hate Ticketmaster.

People Say the Stupidest Things

2005-03-11T09:45:00.000-08:00

(alternatively titled "People are Just Stupid")

It bugs the hell out of me when people come up with witty little sayings to make other people feel better about themselves. I was walking by the receptionist at work today and heard a secretary tell her "Don't worry, dear. If you love something, you have to set it free. If it comes back, then it was meant to be." What the hell does that mean? If your boyfriend wants to go out and ravage a couple of 16 year old hookers in Guam, you should let him indulge, as long as he wants to come back and marry you? Hey, I'm all for that... if I'm the guy. But gimme a break. What does a dried up 45 year old secretary that reads $1.50 fluff novels on her lunch break know about love and romance? My advice for our fair maiden? Pretty clear - If he wants to go shack up with some other chick, kick him in the cockandballs and find someone that's better looking with more money.

Other sayings that bother me - "You're beautiful on the inside." Again, what the hell does that mean? You're pushing 250, have horse teeth and hallitosis and you've got a skin condition that rivals a lunar landscape, in terms of pocks and craters? Newsflash. People are superficial. If you're not moderately attractive on the outside, you can keep standing in front of the mirror and reciting Stuart Smalley aphorisms to yourself all day, but your fat ass is still going to be sitting at home in a bean bag chair on Friday night, eating a pint of Rocky Road ice cream smothered in marshmallow sauce until you find someone else that's beautiful on the inside to join you in your conquest to destroy the gene pool.

"Are we having fun yet?" That went out in the 80's. If I'm in a pissy mood (as in, right now) and things are going wrong, I don't want you to ask me a retarded question. No, I am not having fun right now. If you're perceptive enough to figure that out, why bug me even more? If someboday asks me if I am having fun yet when I'm clearly irritated and ready to break something, I'm going to take off my shoe and beat them to death while yelling "I'm having a blast!"

"I'm Rick James, bitch!" I was a huge offender here. But then I got over it. It's like people who still call you and say "Wassssssup!" Out of touch with culture. At least get up to speed with season two and get on the "Is Wayne Brady going to have to choke a bitch?" bandwagon.

"If they drink Merlot, I'm leaving. I'm not drinking any ^%#$ merlot." Why not just lead off with "Hi, I'm a pseudo-wine snob that likes to recite trendy movie lines so my friends will think I'm hip. Kick my teeth in, please." The irony here, is that any real oenophile wouldn't be caught dead saying that. Hello Pride and Petrus. Add "cheap" to merlot, and I'm right there with you. Instead, a bunch of yuppy pricks walk into a restaurant and prattle off their lines from Sideways, while giggling hysterically. The sommelier is laughing at you as he brings over the bottle of Turning Leaf you just ordered. "And then he said 'Goonie Goo Goo.'"

Last but not least, "Isn't that special?" My mother says this ALL the time. No, it's not special. No, it's not even noteworthy. Just don't say anything. Smile, nod your head, and leave me alone. If I say something mean or sarcastic, do you really think that saying "Isn't that special?" is going to make me see the error of my ways? Do you think I'm going to look back and reflect "Hrmmm, perchance, I was a bit harsh and quite possibly overreacted when I told the homeless person to 'get the f*ck away from my car before I pistol whip you"? 10:30. Time for a conference call. Are we having fun yet?

Financial Aid is a Joke

2005-03-08T15:59:00.000-08:00

One of the most exciting parts of the Business School experience is applying for financial aid. Thankfully, the federal government has finally pulled its stone aged head out of its ass and made an online version of the application, which was a huge relief. I spent 2 hours filling out the paper version when I was getting loans as an undergrad.

The short version of this process - Answer 50 questions about your history, ethnic background, family and then take your 1040 and re-enter every single box on the system. Then, you hit the drug section.

Have you been convicted of sales and distribution of drugs?
If yes, how many times?
What drugs were you distributing?
Did you take any of the drugs you were distributing?
If I had $1000, how many ounces of china white could I purchase? X? Heroin? Meth?
Did Clinton inhale? Did Bush do coke? Should Dole do coke?

45 minutes later, the FAFSA calculator spits out your final score. After taking into account I'm giving up my job, my spouse is a stay at home mom that MIGHT make $10k next year, a 2 year old dependent and a cross country move, the government decided I should pay $27,000 towards my education next year. I put my coffee mug down and looked at the screen again. $27,000. Now, maybe they're trying to encourage me to fill out the drug distribution questions with 'Yes' answers next year, but I'm not quite getting how they arrived at $27,000. Am I supposed to be working 3rd and Peachtree in my spare 2 hours a week?

You're probably trying to figure out what this means. In a nut shell, the government determines whether or not you're eligible for grants and subsidized loans. As a caucasian male undergrad making $13k a year, I did not qualify for grants, so I sure as hell wasn't holding my breath now. The loans, however, are a life saver. You don't have to pay them while you're in school and the interest rates are low. Now, it looks like I might as well charge my tuition on my damn Alaska Airlines card; at least I'll get mileage points for it. You'd think I would get a bit of a break, given I'm going back to school to increase my earning potential, which will result in bumping me up into the next income bracket and paying more taxes. Hell, I'm going back for a graduate degree. It's not like the government is rolling the dice to see if I decide over spring break that I want to drop out of college, join a Hare Krishna group and hand out flowers at the airport. Pssst. Anyone need to score some crack?

And Then You Wait Some More...

2005-03-04T07:10:00.000-08:00

This post I made was popular over at VC, so I thought I'd throw it up here as well. Background, for those non-winesnobs in the crowd. Bressler Cab is made by Bob Bressler, a really nice guy that has posted/semi-blogged every step of the process in starting his Napa vineyard. He's talked about everything from creating mailing list rules, blending, etc. If you're even remotely interested in wine or have had a glass or two too many and now think you want to start a winery, his insights are amazing. Even more interesting is watching how he has let his client base influence his decisions - call it the ultimate ongoing client survey. As expected, his mailing list is completely slammed and he's started a wait. My post was in response to people prattling on about receiving their bottles, but not being able to open them for two weeks because of travel fatigue.
---
Great. I've got three bottles here and now I have to stare at them for 2 weeks to reduce "travel fatigue?" I firmly believe the whole wine by mailer process is designed to torment people. VC just makes it worse. Here's what happens: 2001 Bressler Release

Early 2004 - Bressler posts "Wow guys, this is going to be amazing. Even better than the 2000 vintage that you're falling all over yourselves to get. I'll ship next March" The seed is planted.
Mid 2004 - DavidN, couple of others post. "Bob was right. At the no-label tasting at Hamburger Mary's we got a sneak peak and it's out of this world." Now the envy sets in. I spend 3 hours looking for franchising opportunities in home entertainment. (DavidN owns Western Appliance)
Summer 2004 - Bressler starts posting again. "I'm trying to decide whether or not I should ship anything to my mailing list or just drink it all myself. At minimum, I'm going to split the list between people who bought the first release and the rest of the unfortunate mass out there clamoring for my wine." Panic sets in. But Bob, I didn't know about VC until July 2004. Drew = Unfortunate Mass.
Fall 2004 - "So I had Robert Parker over to the house and he lost his notes on my wine" RP is reviewing Bressler? *wiping the drool off my chin*
Winter 2004 - By this point, half of the VC board has now tried the 2001 and posted about it. "Bressler treated our small group of 300 people to an impromptu tasting out of the back of of an umarked van on the Silverado Trail. Sipping the Bressler was a strangely erotic experience, with the currant and cassis flavors exploding in my mouth like dawn on the first day of creation."
At this point, I've resigned myself to the fact that I'm in the second half of the email list and *might* get the opportunity to buy if the gods smile favorably on me and I stop hiding the fat lady's donuts at work. Karma sucks.
The First Wave - 95% of VC gets their offer by email and posts about it. "Wonderful system, Bob. I bought my 3 cases of wine with ease. Oh, just kidding, I meant 3 bottles." Hahahaha, jackass, you're a real comedian. The other 5% (myself included) posts "Is there any left?" Response from DavidN - "No, I built my second wine cellar (featured in this month's Better Castles and Wine Cellars) and I plan to fill it entirely with Bressler and Loring."
The Second Wave - I order approimately 3 minutes after receiving the email. Yes, I post about it.
The Wait - Tick Tock, Tick Tock. Tracking numbers? I don't need no tracking numbers. You don't have to show me no stinkeen' tracking numbers. I just want my wine.
The Wine Advocate Arrives - An 89 rating? But the 02 is a 92-94? Bah. RP is an obnoxious francophile, anyways. What the hell does he know? If I was flipping my bottles, I'd care. I'm not. I'm drinking them. Speaking of flipping things, here's one for you, RP.
The Arrival, Part 1. I'm late for a plane home and the cell phone rings. "Honey, the FedEx guy is stacking boxes up on the porch. What the HELL did you order?" Oops. Kistler and Bressler on the same day. Must. Get. Home.
The Arrival, Part 2. "Where are the boxes?" Great to see you too, dear. Why don't you go hug your daughter. "Why? Does she have the boxes?" You are hopeless. "Actually, the exact opposite is true. I'm hoping for a shipping error and 3 extra bottles damnit." Are you gearing up for the couch tonight? "Well, Lost, Alias and West Wing are on... Thank God for TiVo, eh?"
Reading the bottle - It's in my hands now. What's this gold sticker thing? *mutter* I wonder if I could open JUST ONE. Travel fatigue? What's that all about. Damn bottle sits in a styrofoam box and gets moved. I wish I could travel like that. Bah. Two weeks to go...

I'll be Enjoying Pork Chops in Hell

2005-02-28T12:51:00.000-08:00

http://www.thercg.org/articles/aaagf.html

You find the damnest things on the Internet. Short story on this one. My wife was looking up information on health risks associated with pork products (remember, this is the short version) and, through whatever complicated system of keywords she used on google, ended up with this link to the "Restored Church of God." The Restored Church of God, as opposed to the Philadeliphia Church of God, the Pentecostal Church of God or the Worldwide Church of God (SPLITTERS! see Life of Brian) is the one true church that can trace its origins back to the first century church founded by Jesus Christ himself. I tried clicking on the link that showed the church's historical lineage, but instead ended up in the church bookstore. At the online bookstore, you'll be able to find information on a wide variety of topics, from "America and Britain in Bible Prophecy" to "Sex: the Unknown Dimension." I'm guessing the pork article is tied to the latter. Willlllbburrrrrr.

In full disclosure, I have a religious studies background, so I enjoy reading garbage like this. The article starts off with this great quote - "Potassium cyanide will kill you very quickly. Some poisons will result in death within a few hours or a few days. But very few (people) seem to know there are other poisons people mistakenly eat as foods which result in premature death after continuous usage for, say, ten, or thirty, or fifty years." So, Mr. Pack is setting the stage for his argument that eating pork products is tantamount to eating cyanide, with time being the variable in between lunch and your impending doom. Given the alternative of brussel sprouts and tomatoes, I'll take death in 50 years, but that's a whole other thread.

He then continues to ramble on and on about different bible verses, disecting the language and grammar used (in English, no less, which should always be a "Danger Will Robinson" sign). After I'm moved to tears thinking I'm going to die in the next 5 years and go straight to hell, Mr. Pack takes the time to write a paragraph on veal being acceptable in the eyes of God, and notes several passages where the Lord Almighty himself eats it. Whoohoo! Now if we can just get Jesus to turn the bread into Foie Gras, I'm going to be in hog heaven. Errr, change that to Cloud 9.

He then prattles on to talk about all the other things we can't - crabs, shrimp, lobster, oysters, shark, catfish, etc. and makes the revalation "When people eat fat, they are ingesting additional poisons." DAMINT. There goes Foie Gras. Fast forward through all of his exegesis and let's get to the most important part: Is Avoiding Unclean Meats Necessary For Salvation? You HAVE to be kidding me. The fact that someone is actually asking this question scares me. Do you REALLY think God is going to be sending you to hell for eating a McDLT? Seriously, now. We have thousands of years of philosophical debate over issues like baptism, original sin, predestination, and orthodoxy to spar over. Some ass-clown wants to add a pulled pork sandwich to that list? Can you imagine Calvin or Edwards writing about this? Even better, let's rewrite Augustine - "Lord, grant me a non-fat Jenny Craig celery sandwich, just not yet. I've just got to have another Baby oh Baby oh Baby Back Rib."

This stuff drives me nuts. The most frustrating part is that there's a whole church full of whack-a-doo's that are following this guy around and sending him money. All in the name of God. *sigh* No wonder why most of the world thinks Christians are crazy. They keep running into people like David Pack. I need to get back to work now so I can get home at a reasonable time and explore the unknown dimension. I wonder what's for dinner?

Reach Out and Touch Someone

2005-02-21T10:51:00.000-08:00

It's George Washington's birthday! I think. I don't really know why I get the day off, but hey, I'm not going to complain about it. The one nice thing about working at a law firm is that you get to take the most ridiculous days off. It's almost enough to make me want to support Ceasar Chavez day, although I don't think it will do me a whole hell of a lot of good up here in Oregon; I'm better off cleaning the shotgun out and rooting for Randy Weaver day... Regardless, it gives me a chance to get caught up on this damn thing.

I sat down to pay bills yesterday and I had the misfortune of opening my wife's Cingular bill. Those of you that know me well would probably agree that I could be labeled as "fiscally conscious." Read: I pick up pennies on the sidewalk. Needless to say, I was moderately displeased to see my wife had rung up a $137 cell bill. I had JUST switched her over to a new plan for sole purpose of avoiding nasty bills like this. After going through my full repetoire of Spanish, Tegalog, Arabic and Vietnamese (that's right, I can offend people by slandering their mothers in FIVE different languages!) I figured out that Cingular had me on the wrong rate plan. I called customer service. Further proof that Cingular is part of the global conspiracy against me, they were closed on Sunday.

Monday morning, 8:45 AM. After waiting on hold for 10 minutes, "Brandon" answered with one of those "Hi, how may I provide excellent service to you today" greetings. Resisting the urge to respond with "by giving me my F*ING money back," I thoughtfully explained my situation and confusion surrounding over $80 in additional roaming charges. Brandon was incredibly sorry and promised to do all he could to help me. Apparently, this equated to putting me on hold, taking a leak, grabbing a coke and coming back to me with "we'd be happy to knock 30% off your fees as a result of your confusion and sign you up for a new 1 year contract." I explained that I had recently bought my wife's new phone for the sole purpose of avoiding roaming fees and that I was not about to pay $56 because they screwed up my rate plan. Brandon then explained he had no record of me buying a phone, no record of me changing my rate plan and then told me he wanted to do everything he could to provide excellent service, but we were quickly approaching the limits to what he could do. "Let me go back to my supervisor and see what I can do." Back on hold for 10 minutes. I don't know whether I'm fixing my phone bill or buying a new car. I do know that if he comes back with "rust insurance" as one of my plan options, I'm going to take the next plane to the call center and beat him to death with my wife's cellular. Brandon returns again. "My supervisor really went out on a limb for you and is going to cover 50% of your fees. We rarely do that, so I'm happy we got this settled." Let's take a breather for a moment.

Do people actually fall for this crap? When you call and complain because someone screwed you, do you roll over when they offer to "meet you half way" or even at 30%? Maybe I'm just 'special' like that, because if I'm going to get off my ass and call Cingular (twice, given they're closed on Sundays), talk to someone who clearly has the most undesireable job in the world, second only to those people that change bed pans at the hosptial, and then wait on hold for 30-45 minutes for any kind of resolution, I'm sure as HELL not going to be satisfied with a 30% discount. Back to the story.

At this point, I've got Brandon on mute and I'm screaming "Serenity Now!" at the receiver. I calmly returned to the phone and explained to Brandon that I was closing my wife's account at that moment and wanted to pay the bill immediately. On hold again, Brendan is going back for a "second opinion." I could not believe he told me he was going back for a second opinion. What? Am I getting my colon removed here? I've been on the phone 45 minutes and Brendan should be grateful to God Almighty that I haven't explained where he could place my cell phone and now he's going for a second opinion. Then the Zen moment hits. At EXACTLY the same time as Brendan comes back with "we've agreed to cover your bill", my wife pulls out the email receipt for her phone, which includes the Job Order number with the details on the plan I selected in January. Needless to say, I take the oppotunity to lecture Brendan on the services I had ordered, my great displeasure with Cingular Wireless, my great displeasure with the quality of reception I get on my cell and my feelings on having to listen to Elmo's World from the other room while this whole ordeal was going on. I think I also threw in my thoughts on Howard Dean and the revamped Democratic party, but at this point, I think he was wiping the drool off of his chin and praying for the call to drop. As Brendan contemplated the benefits of going back to college to get out of his hell-hole job, I demand email addresses from the CEO down to customer support level, at which point he offers a physical mail address. Right. I'm going to put a stamp on an evelope and take it to the post office. OK.

So, here's to hoping that someone at the firm actually used our damn InterAction database and put some contact info in for people at Cingular, 'cause I'm going on an email-a-thon. Subject line: How you can provide excellent service to me.

Go Greyhound and Leave the Driving to us!

2005-02-16T13:05:00.000-08:00

Don't you just HATE colleagues that take every available opportunity to throw you under the bus? I just read an article about some woman that got fired for talking about work in her blog (little did she know her boss was reading it), so I guess I can't go into too much detail. Some people just bug the HELL out of me though. Right now, I've got three words for you.

GO
BLUE
DEVILS!

Wine Tasting Notes

2005-02-12T06:16:00.000-08:00

In an attempt to alienate yet another group of people, I thought I'd post about wine tasting notes. As I've mentioned before, I frequent a couple of wine sites where people post thoughts about wine, wineries and everything else under the sun. It never ceases to amaze me, however, when I see people go to such extremes to describe a wine. Example:

Heavy notes of saddle leather, tobacco, coffee, stink, minerals, and bandaids with some greeness and anise on the nose.

I'm immediately in awe that someone has the ability to distinguish all of those smells from one long sniff on a glass. They're all fairly distinct smells, none of which (save maybe anise) would ever encourage me to buy this bottle of wine. Who wants to drink something that smells like bandaids? Or saddle leather. Or "stink." Yech, I just cringe when I see that. When I think of "stink," I think of one of those fat people that showers every three days, who ALWAYS ends up sitting next to me on the Horizon shuttle to Seattle. Final summary for this glass:

Another contender for WOTN 95 pts.

(For those of you neandrathal beer drinkers in the audience, WOTN = Wine Of The Night.) You seriously mean to tell me that a wine that smells liks stink, bandaids, saddle leather and adds green to the nose to boot was your wine of the night and gets a 95 point rating? Maybe I need to readjust my wine appreciation skills here or something, because I'd sooner drink a bottle of white zin that try something that smells like that, much less rate it with a Wine Spectator equivalent of "a classic wine." Now, at the other end of the spectrum:

For those who like to drink a big wine young, this was quite an experience. Not decanted, but first glass allowed to sit open and untouched for 15 minutes. A deep dark rich purple wine, translucent, with those slow fingerling legs on the glass that can mesmerize you. My first approach was to nose the edge of the Riedel very cautiously and was rewarded with a light minty initial hit. As I pushed the schnoz forward, complex spiciness could be separated out from a deep dark fruit mixture with gentle oak backdrop. Edging forward to the first sip was like Poe's Descent into the Maelstrom....I knew I was not coming back. Heavyweight mouthfeel, a parade of deep plum, black currant, oak and a mocha-like taste rewarded the first few sips. Surprisingly, the acids and tannins allowed full identification of the gorgeous fruit in this merlot. The finish was long, syrupy, fruitful, and exciting. - Dick

Even signed by "Dick." I don't know about you, but I walked away from this review with an erection. The worst part is, I feel bad that I got excited about something so big and young. Screw Cialias and Viagra, I'm going to go out and buy a case of 2001 Pride Merlot. Apparently it will get me REALLY excited, with the added benefit of making my wife look even more attractive (is that possible? awww) the closer I get to the bottom of the bottle. One last note:

Yow. Nose of barnyard and horse maneur. Just what I would expect.

Ok. I can deal with the fact that my palate may not be advanced, hence my wondering if bandaids and stink are the sign of a great wine. But who takes a deep whiff from anything, expecting a wafting of crap, and then proceeds to drink a glass or two? At minimum, when someone comes along and says "yeah, I was right. It smells like horse shit" I think we all would agree it's a bottle to stay away from... right?

I am not a huge Syrah drinker, but this one I really liked. 2002 Pax Syrah (RP 95)

Apparently I was wrong. Not only does it smell like crap, Parker agrees with you that feces is an indicator of a classic glass of wine and rated it a 95. I just don't get wine tasting notes. I think it's great that people get excited about their hobbies and, frankly, I enjoy reading notes and figuring out which wines I'd buy based on them. I just don't understand where some of these descriptions come from. Maybe I just need to watch Sideways; I think I'm the only person in America at this point who has missed the flick. Feel free to post any intriguing tasting notes you come across.

Ask Drew - Answers, Part 1

2005-02-08T15:21:00.000-08:00

Came to the realization that the only thing more annoying than sitting here and typing out responses to a bunch of questions all at once is actually reading the answers to a bunch of questions all at once. So, here are the first three.

From "Flaco"
Is it true that money can't buy you happiness, or are people just blowing smoke up my ass?

Well, Flaco, I'd have to say people are blowing smoke up your ass. I think it's true that money can't buy you love, but it can definitely buy you two 18 year old hookers and a case of vodka. If that's not happiness, I don't know what is. BTW, great picture at http://www.homies.tv/homies_flaco.htm . Instead of happiness, worry about buying yourself a belt.

From Barbara Walters
What is your position on women with families holding executive positions in corporate america? And, do you prefer to work for a man or a woman?

I'm all for women holding executive positions. In fact, I believe executive admins are critical to the success of corporate America. Who else is going to make my coffee? In all seriousness, I'm guessing that's not the response you're looking for...

Given I have no problems with females in exec positions, I think my answer is more relevant to the family side of the equation. I personally think that children are better off being raised with a stay at home mom whenever possible and have sacrificed in my life accordingly. If mom is a CEO and dad stays at home, more power to you, just don't expect me to hold back snide comments about dad wearing an apron and cleaning the house in his panties.

Would I prefer to work for a man or a woman? I think it would depend on the situation, but overall, I'd probably rather work for a man. I don't believe that gender has any impact on job performance (unless you're in the Army or something) and I've reported to women before with no issues. That said, however, I think that at times it is easier to confide and build relationships with people of the same sex, culture, etc. You DID ask.

From "anonymous"
Why even have a blog? Judging by the overwhelming number of comments and feedback you're receiving, it looks like a waste of everyone's time, including mine.

Ahhh. How kind. It's cheaper than therapy.

Ask Drew

2005-02-07T16:40:00.000-08:00

Here's the oppotunity you've been waiting for. Ask a question, any question, and I'll answer it on the blog. It may not be the right answer, it may not be the answer you're looking for, but you'll get an answer none-the-less. Topics can range from "Did you really vote for Pat Buchanan in the primaries" to "Who is going to win the World Series" to "Why am I reading this blog?" Entries should be sent to drewkoto@gmail.com by Wednesday evening. Please let me know if I should use your first name, an alias or just post as "anonymous."

Back to School

2005-02-06T09:08:00.000-08:00

I take a pre-calc class at the local JC on Saturdays. For those of you that are wondering, yes, I'd rather repeatedly slam a car door on my hand than spend 5 hours in a class on a Saturday. I think the most frustrating part is that I'm getting back into it as the "30 year old guy that really does his homework" so I actually give a shit about learning.

My instructor, and I use that term loosely, is 2 years younger than I am and shows up to class in sweats and a t-shirt. He started off the class with a 30 minute lecture on why we should all read Arab history to full appreciate mathematics, given "the Muslim people took what the Greeks came up with to the next level." It was all downhill from there. We spend most of our time arguing over whether or not he's made mistakes on the board vs. learning new material. When I questioned him on one, he said "oh, I guess you're right. I was never very good at Geometry." THEN WHY ARE YOU TEACHING A TRIG CLASS, YOU ASSMONKEY?" Did I mention I took trig at a JC in high school?

The big midterm was yesterday. After reviewing the chapter, he handed us the exam. Imagine studying for hours, only to find the exam has been written for a mildly retarded kid with the IQ of a box of tic tacs. We spent 3 weeks covering sin and cosin waves and relative word problems - not a single one on the test. Why? Because he would have had to create one from scratch and actually come up with an answer on his own. Instead, 25% of the test were conversion problems (we had study sheets that gave us the formulas), 50% was drawing triangles and there was ONE word problem, which he ended up drawing out on the board during the test because the ESL student in the class didn't understand it. He gave us three hours for a test that took me 20 minutes. And that was doing each problem twice to check my work. I'd like to thank Portland Community College for the oppotunity to piss $500 into the wind and ruin my weekends for 12 weeks so I could walk away with a cheap A. For the final, I think I'm going to bring a copy of my paycheck stub in to show to the instructor, just for the hell of it.

I'm going to grab a beer and start watching ESPN. Go Pats!

We are here to pump you up!

2005-02-04T13:11:00.000-08:00

State of the Union summary: George Bush, after practicing his speech at least 20 times, delivered a great State of the Union address. Yes, I too was a little irritated with the Constitutional ammendment on the definition of marriage crap getting inserted into the speech in a weak attempt to blow the religious right. Maybe I'll explain my complex logic on that at a future point, for now, suffice it to say I don't think the Constitution is the place to deal with these issues. Other than that, I think he finally came across in a Presidential manner, as opposed to a cast member of Hee-Haw in a nice suit.

Today's thoughts are aimed at the following article - http://www.cnn.com/2005/LAW/02/04/silicone.death.ap/index.html
This is just wrong at so many different levels. Some random thoughts, in no particular order.

This is, quite possibly, the ugliest looking gorilla of a woman I have ever seen in my life. I'm not quite sure if Mr/Mrs Stephen Thomas thought he was an ugly looking man, but as a woman, he's even worse. WTF goes through these people's heads? Never mind, I don't want to know. It's bad enough that Marv Albert wears panties; I don't want to hear this whack-a-doo's story.
"The death of Andre Geter in December 2003 threw a spotlight on "pumping," a thriving underground practice among men living as women" As opposed to humping?
"The silicone sealant that Thomas used on Geter is available in hardware stores." I understand that this guy isn't a rocket scientist to begin with, but how dumb do you have to be to realize that if you're shopping at Home Depot for cosmetics, something isn't right in your life.
"after receiving injections in the hips and buttocks during a "pumping party" in Albany" Let me get this straight. 20 people get together to have a couple of drinks and pump silicon into their asses? I don't know about you, but the only thing worse than the whole idea of a Mrs. Stephen Thomas is the visual of a 300 lb black he/she bent over the sofa with Tito, his 300 lb buddy that missed the cut for Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, jamming a hypodermic in his ass.
Did I mention they PAID $400 to get the injections? Send this guy to the Harvard School of Business, because he's one hell of an entrepreneur.

My apologies for being overly crass, but I'm sure none of you will actually comment about it. Instead, I'll get 10 instant messages saying I'm homophobic or something equally stupid. Yes, I'm in a bad mood. You would be, too, if you had to read this crap while eating a sandwich.

Star Dorks

2005-02-03T13:44:00.000-08:00

Absolutely great. I REALLY needed this today. http://www.livejournal.com/users/krautboy/243291.html

Not to be outdone by http://www.cnn.com/2005/US/02/03/general.shoot/index.html

Will post something on the State of the Union when I get a chance.

Thong You Very Much

2005-02-01T04:52:00.000-08:00

Was reading the NY Times and came across this article written by the ever exciting Maureen Dowd. For those of you whose daily internet updates are limited to the "Free Pic of the Day", I'll give you the quick recap of what's going on. An Arab translator at Guantanamo is writing a book on terrorist interrogation techniques used by the US. One of the highlights includes a female interrogator that wears a mini-skirt and thong underwear to question her prisoners, while "touching her breasts, rubbing them against the prisoner's back and commenting on his apparent erection." Yeah, makes me want to go blow up a bus, too. Later, the interrogator tells the prisoner she's menstruating (ok, back to reality now), smears something on his forehead and has the water in his cell shut off so he cannot clean himself. Ms. Dowd is deeply offended, of course, and reaches her own personal climax, exclaiming "such behavior degrades the women who are doing it, the men they are doing it to, and the country they are doing it for."

Can someone tell me what I am missing here? We have a group of prisoners sitting in Cuba that have information on impending attacks on Western targets around the world. We can dance on the issue of torture and how it applies to this situation all day; just ask our new attorney general, Alberto Gonzalez. History lesson of the day for the knee jerk liberals out there is that these people are not covered by the Geneva convention in any way, with most of them having violated each of the four key definitions of an enemy combatant:

They must be in uniform to distinguish themselves from civilian non-combatants
They must be openly bearing arms and not concealing them
They must fall into an officer system/chain of command reporting to a political leader
They cannot deliberately attack civilians or commit atrocities

Yet for the sake of this argument, I'm throwing all that out the window. Critics aren't getting upset we're slamming their fingers in doorjams, depriving them of sleep and making mean faces at them while they're urinating. They're upset because we're using women in mini-skirts to get information out of them.

Where do we draw the line here? I think it's time Ms. Dowd gets a reality check. These people would like nothing more than to snap her head off for being a westernized harlot and then post the video on one of their web sites. Yet, as more terrorists are plotting attacks here and more people are dying in places like Spain (3/11) and Iraq, Ms. Dowd would rather have you mulling over the influence of Victoria's Secret on foreign policy. How humane.

Tool of the Month Award - Dick Cheney

2005-01-28T14:03:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I know. Two posts in one day. What can I say? All the partners are in Seattle for their annual kvetchfest, so I've got some time on my hands. Gotta love this:

Vice President Dick Cheney raised eyebrows on Friday for wearing an olive-drab parka, hiking boots and knit ski cap to represent the United States at a solemn ceremony remembering the liberation of Auschwitz. Other leaders at the event in Poland on Thursday marking the 60th anniversary of the death camp's liberation, such as French President Jacques Chirac and Russian President Vladimir Putin, wore dark, formal overcoats and dress shoes or boots.
"The vice president, however, was dressed in the kind of attire one typically wears to operate a snow blower," Robin Givhan, The Washington Post's fashion writer, wrote in the newspaper's Friday editions.

Things like this are an easy home run. Even if you're a complete ass clown, all you have to do is show up, nod your head a couple of times, shake a few hands and leave. 6 million people dead and Cheney looks like he's going to a football game. I didn't think it was possible for the US to slide any lower on the international opinion poll, but it appears I was wrong. So, Dick Cheney gets my first ever "Tool of the Month" award.

Portland or Bust - Why I fled the Bay Area

2005-01-28T10:16:00.000-08:00

Friday afternoon, I was down in San Diego for a conference and swung by the beach on the way back to the airport. In typical Andrew fashion, I took my socks and loafers off, walked in the sand and proceeded to call every single person I knew and/or worked with in the NW and told them I was at the beach. As I was standing there in the 75 degree weather watching the waves come in, I asked myself why in the HELL I moved from California to Oregon.

It's a good question. Weekend before last, there was half an inch of ice on EVERYTHING here. The wife and I stayed home and watched people crashing into things on T.V. And when Oregonians are driving well, they're not driving fast - good luck hitting speeds over 60 in the fast lane. Foodwise, I can't even think of the last time I had good Mexican food here. They've got a lot of trendy, nouveau "Mexican" restaurants, but newsflash to Portlanders - if you see foie gras, seared duck breast or lobster on the menu, I don't care if it's followed by chimichanga, you are not in a Mexican restaurant. So why leave the Bay Area?

Traffic. 50 mile commute from Hollister to San Jose was 60 minutes on a good day, and that was leaving my house at 9:00. Bad days, it could hit 2.5 hours. While I can proudly say that I became adept at eating, shaving, talking on the phone and changing gears while driving, I'd sooner watch a 3 day Lifetime Channel The View marathon before signing up for that commute again. Can you even imagine what my cell bill was like? Even still, it's more than just freeway time. Try driving 5 miles to Fry's some time. 30 minutes. And that's just to get there. Once you get inside, it's like a safari into the heart of idiotland. Typical conversation:

Me. "Hi, I need to pick up a USB drive. Where to?"

Raji Moustaffa Habib. "I am very sorry. We are only using FedEx."

Me. "No, not UPS. USB. Where are the drives?"

Raji Moustaffa Habib. "Drives? Oooh. I'm sorry. Floppy drives are in aisle 1."

Me. "I don't think they even make floppy drives any more."

Raji Moustaffa Habib. "Oh. I was not aware. How may I provide excellent service to you?"

Me. "Never mind. I'll find it."

Foreign Country. The Bay Area feels like a foreign country. If I hear Spanish in Portland, it's because I took a wrong turn while looking for the bathroom in a restaurant. If I'm in San Jose, it's because my kid is coming home and speaks better Spanish than English, because that's what they're learning in school. Ron Unz be damned, the school systems are still pushing bilingual education. Even worse, I read somewhere that the DMV gives driver tests in 30+ languages now. When was the last time you saw a stop sign that said "Haltenze, Bitte"? California also publishes voter guides in multiple languages. If you don't understand wtf a candidate is saying, you shouldn't be able to vote. How do you understand the issues? Sure, it's funny to listen to W say "Yo likey NAFTA, muy bien" but that's about all the Spanish you'll catch in the State of the Union coming up in Feb. If I want a foreign adventure, I'll rent a movie with subtitles. When I go to the store, I want to buy my stuff from someone I can understand.

People. There are just too many people in the Bay Area. It's irritating. I don't like waiting in line for 45 minutes to eat in a cool restaurant. What blows me away is that people will wait in line at the Cheesecake Factory, a decidedly mediocre restaurant, for 2 hours. P.F. Cheng's? Same thing. It's virtually impossible to go somewhere on a Friday night, without a wait, unless you've had reservations for 2 months. If you think eating is bad, try going to the mall. I truly believe that Valley Fair at Christmas time was foreshadowed as one of the levels of hell in Dante's Inferno. You wonder why ecommerce took off in the Bay Area? It's because noone wants to deal with all the damn people at the mall.

San Francisco, Santa Cruz, Oakland and Berkeley. Wow. I really don't know where to start. As somebody who was moderately involved in politics, it scares me to think of what goes on at the local government level in these cities. It's like the hamster died years ago, but the wheel is still spinning. The Board of Supervisor's latest brilliant idea is a $.17 tax on plastic bags - an attempt to cut down on litter in the city. WHY DON'T YOU DO SOMETHING ABOUT ALL THE DAMN HOMELESS PEOPLE, INSTEAD? I could go on and on about this one for a while; hell, I could spend a week writing about Amiano running against Willy Brown in the mayoral election. I'll leave you with my all-time classic - Oakland recognizing Ebonics as a separate language and encouraging teachers to incorporate it into their lesson plans. http://www.cnn.com/US/9701/16/black.english/ Newsflash: if you're defending a racial position and Jesse Jackson comes out against your cause, you're in uncharted territory.

I'm tired of writing. Maybe I'll post a part II talking about housing prices, suburban sprawl and being THAT close to Napa, but never going. Until then, enjoy the weekend.

Censored!

2005-01-26T08:41:00.000-08:00

Today's post will not appear, as a courtesy to the wife. Apparently, multiple references to our former community as "Tijuana North" were considered a bit over-the-top. Furthermore, she felt I was a bit too sarcastic/mean/racist when discussing our neighbor with 7 cars (he DID park 2 of them around the corner, partly out of consideration for us, partly out of a lack of additional lawn space) and his 10 relatives that lived in the house with him. So, lesson for the day: when blogging, if the wife says "honey, what are you doing?", respond with the safe answer - "Oh nothing dear, just looking at gigantic boobies while surfing internet pornography. Can you make me a cup of coffee?"

Allocations? I just want a bottle of wine...

2005-01-25T05:34:00.000-08:00

I think the most amazing discovery I made, once I became a wine snob, was the concept of wine allocations. For those of you that are new to this, the idea works like this. For any given winery that has a following and established demand (Turley, Rafanelli, Kistler, Rochioli, etc.), you are given the "privilege" of buying a small quantity of their wine. This privilege is usually obtained after waiting anywhere from 18 months (in Turley's case) to 6 years (Rochioli) to "I joined the list so my grandkids could order" (Marcassin). Once you move from the wait list to the order list, you are then able to purchase the lowest end of whatever the winery has available. Then, after spending 5 years establishing a purchase record, you get the opportunity to buy the good stuff and the number of bottles you can order increases (again, all dependent on the winery size, offerings, etc. Rafanelli offers cab and zin, as opposed to a Turley with 30+ labels).

Here's what I find amazing. Take a winery like Kistler. I LOVE Kistler wines. Their chards are, imho, some of the best in the world. The pinots are phenomenal. And hey, the wait list to order is non-existent. HOWEVER. The bottles are $60+ a piece. Fundamentally, I have an issue paying $60 for a bottle of chard. I'd rather drop $15 for a bottle of Chateau St. Michelle and blow the other $45 on toffee nut lattes during the week, but that's a story for another blog. What blows me away about Kistler is that they know you want their pinot. So they allocate you 60 bottles of chard, along with 6 of pinot, and then make you order 12 bottles minimum. Because I have the misfortune of living somewhere != California, shipping is $5.25 a bottle, to boot. That means that on any given mailer, I need to spend ~$790 for 6 entry level bottles of pinot and some white stuff that I'll try and sell through my friends. Did I mention that I'm supposed to do this for at least 3-4 years before I can buy the 1 bottle of the cuvees that I'm dying to try? ARRGGGHHHH. I almost fell out of the chair laughing when I saw that one guy had to buy 4 cases of wine to get the cuvees. We're talking $4,000 (remember, $60 is the cheap side for Kistler) here. As expected, the majority goes to WineBid or WineCommune.

So, here's the end result. I end up becoming the distributor for Kistler in the greater Portland metro area, with other secondary buyers in San Jose. I have to chase people down and sell enough bottles to let me get what I want (3 or 4 bottles of pinot - HELLO I'M ON A BUDGET) and then run the bottles all over kingdom come when they finally get here. Slip up with one mailer and you're back to square one.

The question I'd like to ask is "how do you determine who gets what?" Bob Bressler, of growing Bressler fame, posted his thoughts on how he worked through the process over at vinocellar.com, but other than that, it's like this huge Wizard of Oz behind the curtains process. Take Turley, for example.

Disclaimer #1 I LOVE Turley wines.
Disclaimer #2 I have called the winery a couple of times and the people have bent over backwards to help me out - I think I talked to Sarah, who was an incredible sweetie.
Disclaimer #3 If I'm on 2 last mailers, they'll be Turley and A.P. Vin (Andrew is cool)

That said, the logic behind how they do their allocations is mind boggling. It's like clockwork. I read posts at VinoCellar saying the mailer is out. I'm in Oregon and my mailman is more apt to skip my house to take an early lunch at Taco Bell, so wait 3 more days. In the mean time, I'm watching everyone else post their allocations get posted - newsflash to the wineries - lots and lots and lots of people do this. Then the envelope arrives and I always think "who got drunk in the tasting room and spilled the wine on my DAMN TURLEY MAILER" until I remember that's their idea of graphic design. Alright, it IS cool. So I rip apart my mailer and separate the wine information and pseudo order form from the actual order form. Sure enough, I'm 3-6 bottles behind everyone else posting, even though I've maxed out every mailer (and I've piggybacked off of someone else for a couple of years as well, but they don't know that). If you know me at all, you understand that my fingers are now bleeding from pushing the little metal prongs in the keyboard because I've hit it enough times that the letters are strewn across the room... "Pat, I'll take a W! I'd like to solve. WHERE'S THE REST OF MY WINE. DAMNIT?" And then the big dogs start posting. "I've got 84 bottles this time, but there are only 200 spots left in my 40,000 bottle wine cellar and I must save them for my 200 Marcassin allocation, so feel free to contact me if you want to buy from me, or just find my stuff on WineBid." Not only do you have a ridiculously disproportionate amount of bottles, you're financing your list by flipping stuff on the secondary market. All this, while I'm one step short of dressing up like a hooker and auditioning for "Oenophiles Gone Wild" to get an extra bottle or two for myself. Mr. 84 bottles, I hope you choke on a cork and die while you're preparing an amicus brief. Yeah, and I hope it's a synthetic cork, to boot!

This leads back to the original question. How in the world do you determine allocations? My buying habits and list time have been identical to other people, yet my numbers are lower than most, albeit higher than a couple of other more unfortunate saps. Also, how do you get to the point where you have 84 bottles in a year where an earthquake wiped out quite a bit of inventory? Just confusing. Thankfully, I tend to forget about these things as I pop a cork and slip away...

The world is spinning...

2005-01-24T13:11:00.000-08:00

Just having one of those days.

http://www.wagenschenke.ch

I hit 57 meters!

The world is spinning at my firm; half of the attorneys bailed out last week and decided to start their own office. Try returning on a Monday morning and dealing with that news. I feel like the guy in the link above... Trying to convince myself that I care enough to give a rat's ass at this point, given my future plans at (school). Day just got a little better though. Chino called with free dinner and TrailBlazer tix for tonight, so I'll have to post later on wine allocations - I've got a rant and a half on it.

Will Blog For Wine

2005-01-23T14:40:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting here watching the Atlanta/Philly game (thank God for TiVo) and decided it was time to start up a blog. My buddy the Indian Princess got a job at Google, so I guess I'm going with blogger.com! Thoughts for the day -

I haven't opened up a bottle of wine for a while, so I uncorked a bottle of 2003 A.P. Vin Gary's Vineyard. Yummy. Kind of an understatement, but I'm not as sophisticated a critic as some of my counterparts at VinoCellar.com. It's much easier for me to say a wine is "yummy" vs. prattling on about barnyard smells (how can that ever be a sign of a great wine?) and hints of cherry, tacos and a wafting of spring lavender on a cooling breeze. So, my cro-magnon man tasting notes shall be summarized as "way to go Andrew, your wine is Yummy."

Got me to thinking about church; it is Sunday after all. I used to go to a church where they referred to members who drank as "sipping saints." I sat through one service where I was told that people who drank alcohol didn't have a close "walk with God" and were "shackled by the dependencies of this world." Are you kidding me? Throw away the key and give me another glass. Really.

This leads me to an argument that I've been having with ultra-evangelical bible thumpers for years. What's the deal with drinking wine? Did you miss the gospel passage where Jesus passes THE WINE around the table and says "drink this in memory of me"? He's not drinking Gatorade, guys. Even better - what about his first miracle in the Gospel according to John? Jesus turns the water into wine, so everyone can drink. Go read the passage again! Then, after people start guzzling Chateau de Christeau, someone comes up to him and says "normally, people serve the best wine first and then (when everyone gets plowed), they serve cheap stuff. You've done the opposite." The implication is that people are already plowed and Jesus is serving the better wine, contrary to tradition. So let's get this straight. A bunch of Jews are whooping it up and drain all the good AND bad wine, and Jesus comes along and makes more for them, at the request of the Virgin Mary, no less. And you're giving me grief for enjoying a bottle of pinot? Come on, now.

Praise the lord, pass the pinot.
DREW