::History of Me

I was born a poor white child in the bayous of Lake Charles, Louisiana approximately thirty-three years ago.  My lineage dates back to the original colonists on both sides of my family.  When I was younger, history didn't mean a lot to me and thusly didn't hold a lot of my attention.  This of course did nothing to stop my older relatives from giving me an earful of folktales and readings from the family memoirs.

The Talkingtons and The Chances both left England for reasons I have yet to discover to begin a new live in the savage lands of America.  My father's grandmother's on several occasions claimed Sir Francis Drake was her great-beyond-great uncle.  The evidence to this was in that her maiden name was "Drake", so make of that what you will.  Beyond that I know from family records that both families moved south after the Revolutionary War.  The Chances were awarded parcels of land in Georgia while The Talkingtons ended up in North Carolina.  The Civil War prompted another story from the Talkington annals.  My father's mother told a story of her grandfather who fought in the Civil War.  He fought for the South and his brother fought for the North.  Blood proved thicker than anything else in the world when they would meet each night to share coffee and food with one another.

After the Civil War, the stories and memories seem to be lost until the Second World War.  My father was named after an uncle he never met.  His uncle was shot down by German anti-aircraft artillery while performing bombing runs over the African Coast.  My mother's father lived up to his surname a couple of times during WWII.  He was present at Mussolini's execution when they strung him upside down to let him bleed to death.  This was after nearly being killed when a mortar shell exploded beside him leaving him unharmed but killing the guy next to him.  His most extraordinary story to date is of a German incursion with his infantry regiment.  His regiment was stalemated against a regiment of Germans.  Both sides were cut off from supplies, and the waiting game began.  Days went by until finally his group had run out of ammo.  The Germans, tired and hungry, didn't notice or care as they raised their white flag in surrender.  A charmed life indeed, and coincidentally his nickname back home was "Little Boy".

My father's father missed the war luckily due to him taking up the calling just as four generations of Talkingtons had done before him.  Casting off his career as an up and coming minor league baseball player, he joined the ranks of a different army.  He was an ordained minister, a soldier for God.  He served his country and his congregation through ministry, keeping hope and faith alive in America.  My father's mother did her part as well by working as a general worker building schools and sweating as a factory worker just as "Rosy the Riveter" asked of all women during that time.

As I grew up and began to put these stories into their proper context, history became more personal to me.  History was still boring but I at least felt more a part of it.  Now I find myself reconnecting to my country's founders through the writings of Thomas Jefferson and the unsung patriot, Thomas Paine.  I am discovering that history, as cheesy as it might sound, is more a part of me and who I am than I had ever given it credit for.  I look forward to exploring more of my past through family stories and examining how they fit into the bigger picture of American History.

::Queen of Rock

 

Last night I fulfilled the dreams of not one but two princesses. Yes, I am THAT good. I took them to see the Queen of Rock, Pat Benatar.  She's still pretty hot and can still wail! It was an awesome show.  The opening act was Lennon, who played her music on piano beautifully despite being a metal act.

 

I think the best part was sharing it with my daughter.  She was SO excited to see "Benatar" and Lennon she screamed for because she thought the piano was great! We danced and sang along, it was a blast.

My son was a little bored with the concert but he managed through it.

We are looking forward to INXS at the end of the month, maybe he'll enjoy them more.

Overall, it was a great time and it was truly fantastic to be able to fulfill the childhood dreams of both my beautiful princesses.

::Mr. T Presents: Playing with Wood

I am a self-professed Jack of Trades.  I had a pretty decent southern upbringing; just short of seasonal hunting trips, I was taught by my dad to be self sufficient when it came to home repair.  I can install a ceiling fan, install a toilet and sink complete with plumbing, wire an electrical outlet and can even float dry wall.  I amaze my wife on a regular basis with what I can do. *nudge nudge* *wink wink*  On occasion, I wow my land lord who thinks its a godsend to have a tenant that doesn't need to call out for a repairman for every little thing.  "Imagine all the money I'm saving," I can hear him think when I tell him I fixed this and that.  I'm ok with that because otherwise I would have to wait for him to call someone, then take a day off of work to meet with the guy.  It just saves everyone a lot of hassle in the end.

Anyway to the point of all this.  I wanted to share a glimpse into where I've been hiding myself the past few days.

In addition to being a novice-class handyman, I am also a self-professed member of Geekapollooza.   And one of the most coveted items that a coterie can have bragging rights to is The Ultimate Gaming Table!!  Of course there are several out there claiming to be the ultimate but thus far, NO ONE has beat this design.

Building such a table would require several heavenly bodies to align themselves just so and until I can master the powers of the universe to make this happen, I will have to settle for a smaller design.

One of those "heavenly" bodies would be my wife who has a list of items she would like built before I set my sights on the table of adventure and splendor.  A coffee table and a curio cabinet top the list.

Also, building such an artifact of dorkish proportions would require tools of the carpentry trade, time to build it and a workspace away from little children.

As you can see the table has become a long and arduous journey likened to that of a certain ring carried by a certain young man with hairy feet.

So with the help of Parabolist, my Sam to his Frodo, we took up the task of creating a workshop to build all these wonders in the hopes of ushering a new age, aligning that heavens as we could.

First on the list was the workspace.  I needed a place to work and put all the tools needed.  Scouring the webbed lands of the internet, I came across this handy handyman's site with a design that seemed to scream, "BUILD ME...!!!"  And with a failed Will save I am doing just that.

The design presented above was to fit into a 16 ft. garage, nearly twice the space that I have in my current garage, so we had to scale it back some.  I decided to go with a 9 ft. tablespace and keep the other variables (depth and height) the same to save me some sanity.

Parabolist being the CAD whiz that he is came up with this:

 

And so, I'm turning this:

with these:

into this:

Results May Vary... 

::Thar Be Booty Har

A few days ago in an enchanted land far far away, a group of adventurous pirate princes and pirate princesses gathered on the Dread Pirate King's ship, The Mini Pearl, to celebrate his daughter's fifth year on the open seas.

At the climax of this celebration, the Dreaded Pirate King presented to his princess his most valued possession outside of his lovely children and his Queen.  A map of their island and marked upon it, the location of riches beyond their imaginations.

The "X" was coffin rock, a well known spot to his children as they spent many days watching the sunset there. Before they leave, they retire to the royal palace to prepare for their adventurous journey.

Coffin Rock "Within My Tomb, Lies A Pirates Boon.  Free It From My Deathly Grip By Going On A Daring Trip. Search the Land Far And Wide For the Keys Numbering Five Seek Ye First A Pirate Curst.  Play His Game To Set Him Free And For Your Prize, A Skeleton's Key.    ~ YAAARGH"

Upon reaching coffin rock, the adventurers scoured the area for clues to the location of the treasure. Finally, the first mate came across an etching in the rock accompanied by five keyholes. After digesting the riddle, the group eyed each other with excitement and wonder. A cursed pirate held their first key.  "Only one pirate I know of that fits that bill," The first mate declared.  With a wave of his arm, "To the Mini Pearl!"

The Mini Pearl

Aboard the Mini Pearl, the first mate took them to the brig.  Dark and dank and smelling of rotten fish, the brig was empty.  The pirate princesses bravely stepped forward into the darkness.  Suddenly a ghastly visage appeared to them.  It was the Pirate Curst!  "Play my game or join me here forever!" he cackled.

Frightened at the thought of spending their days in this smelly brig, the group cheered each other on as they mastered his game of ring toss. Victorious, the group was given their first key. But not without a few words of gratitude from the Pirate Curst.

The Pirate Curst

"Lads and Lasses, Thank Ye For Lifting The Curse To Free Me.
Now Here My Tale of Woe.  The Captain's Key I Stole And Hide It I Did In a Clock.  Swallowed Whole By a Wicked Ol' Croc, Off He Swam Without a Trace To His Home; A Boggy Place"

Looking at the map, they find only one place where this Croc with the Clock could reside.  The foulest place on the island, Black Bog.

"Ewww," cry the princesses but they trudge on for the greater good.  They can buy new dresses with the treasure that lies in wait for them.

The stench of the bog was only slightly overwhelmed by the vast swarms of mosquitoes, flies and other bugs.  Sloping through the bog, the group searched for the Wicked Ol' Croc.

"This is hopeless, we are never going to find anything in this mess." One princess said slinging off a clump of swamp from her feet.  As if on queue, the growl of a crocodile was heard in the darkness accented by the tic tock of a clock.  "ITS HIM!" they all whispered loudly.  Creeping closer to the sound of the Ol' Croc, they find it stretched out on a bed of moss and peat.  Its yellow eyes scanning the bog for its next meal.  Hoping it didn't spot them, the group hid behind a log.  Finally, it slid off into the swamp in search for dinner.

Quickly, they search the Ol' Croc's bedding for the key.  "Got it," one of them whispers.  Wrapped in a cocoon of moss, they find the key secured to a piece of parchment.

"Brave Must Ye Be, In Search of the Next Key.  Along the Coast of Shipwreck Shore, Enter Ye Must Through Death's Door.  Your Fear Ye Will Face For In Davey Jones' Locker, Yer Hand Ye Must Place."

Shipwreck Shore

Off to Shipwreck Shore they set, to the two spiraling spires named  Death's Door. At the foot of these spires is a swirling pool of black.  The local legends say this is only one of many "portholes" to the land of the dead. Bravely they each stick their hands into the pool searching for the key.

The color drains from each of them as Davey Jones sucks the life from them.  "Be Brave" they say to one another scrambling to find the key. A boy dressed in green and goes by Peter Pan jerks his hand up out of the water.  A tentacle is wrapped around his arm but in his grasp is the KEY! They make short work of the tentacle with their magic wands and dirks. And examine the key for another clue. While they look,  A ghostly voice echoes from the pool.

"At Table Rock Collect Your Debt. To Find The Key, A Wager Ye'll Bet. Throw the Bones With Davey Jones. Three Changes to Stay Alive. Win the Game, Roll a Five. ~ARRRGH"

"Last Key to Find in a Ballroom Divine. A Princess Bride Full of Dread Her Greatest Fear Ne'er to Wed. Without Her Slipper Made of Glass The Prince's Test She'll Not Pass. With Closed Eye Numbering Two Make This Princess' Dream Come True"

Off they set for Table Rock and the fourth key. After a short climb they reach the top of Table Rock and find a feast waiting for them along with a sealed box and a pair of bony dice. "I have a bad feeling about this." The first mate says as he chomps down on a piece of cake. While they eat, they each take a turn at the bones.  Three rounds go by and soon they begin to worry if this is the end. The Dread Pirate's daughter makes a wish and with the final throw of the dice....  a five! The seal on the box cracks and inside is the fourth key and a parchment.

Finishing their feast, they cry in unison, "The Royal Palace!" After a quick march down the rock and to the palace, they slowly enter the ballroom not sure what to expect. In the center of the ballroom is a Prince at the feet of a beautiful Princess frozen in time. Several slippers of glass and shiny quartz lay around them.  Closing their eyes they each pick up a slipper and try to place it on her foot.  With uncanny accuracy Princess T slipped her slipper on the princess.

The Royal Palace - Ballroom The Prince and Princess released from their spell thanked the brave pirates and gave them their final key. "Back to COFFIN ROCK!!" they sprinted.  The princesses remembering their manners stopped to curtsey on their way out.

Each of them took a key and inserted it into the keyhole.  With a grinding turn, the sound of a lock opening could be heard. With the final key, the Princess E opened the final lock. Together they lifted the coffin opened and peered inside.

"A TREASURE CHEST!!" they screamed with excitement. The Dread Pirate King and his first mate lifted the chest out.

The glittering of gold and jewels was blinding. The treasure was legendary. "We should take this back to the palace to split it up." They all agreed and headed back to the palace...

Where they enjoyed the rewards of working together, facing their fears and overcoming great obstacles. Happy Treasure Hunting and Happy Birthday!! Princess E!! Special Thanks to the Curst Pirate for assisting on creating this magical day.  I think we had just about as much fun building the adventure as the kids did running through it.

Creative design by Mr. T (The Dread Pirate King) Mrs. T (His Queen) Parabolist (The Curst Pirate) Map work by Parabolist (The Curst Pirate)

::Happiness is a Warm Gun

The last rays of the day glinted off the polished barrel of the Smith
& Wesson .45 revolver Gary held securely to his temple. Gary licked
his lips. The tear-salted taste mentally reinforced him of his resolve
to pull the trigger.

"Soon, this would all be over.  I'll finally be free," he reassured himself.

Gary tensed his index finger gently applying pressure to the trigger.
He listened anxiously for the inviting click of the hammer of the gun
but instead the grating shrill of the phone was all that he heard.

Grimacing at the interruption, Gary tried to ignore the relentless ringing.

"I should have unplugged the phone from the wall," though he seemed to remember he had.

Begrudgingly, Gary released the hammer on the pistol and set it on the table.  The tarp he had laid out crunched beneath his feet like dried dead leaves as he walked across the room to rectify his forgotten task.  As he reached for the phone, something inside of him urged him to answer it.

"Curiosity?" he thought.  "More like sadist intentions to endure yet
another 'generous' caller wanting to save me loads of money on long
distance."

"Inconsiderate pricks," the words reverberated through the bare
kitchen. "I'll give them something to remember me by," and yanked the receiver from the cradle of the phone.

"Listen here you miserable FUCK! I don't want whatever you are
selling. After today I won't be much in the market from much of
anything short of a mop, a bucket, and a pine box. And I already have
two of the three."

He was answered with silence. He stood puzzled for a moment, almost taken back. He hadn't meant to be so abrasive but the swell of emotion took over and erupted from his insides. He suddenly felt guilty.

"Hello?" he squeaked.  "Didn't mean to give you both barrels."

Still the reply was dead air. He slowly hung up the phone and a
chuckle bubbled up inside of him which escaped through his nose in a
snort.

"Both barrels," he smiled at his own joke, "I'd be happy to be getting back to my one."

He walked back over to the table straightening a crease in the tarp as
he went. He wanted this moment more than anything but he was not
inconsiderate of others. He had planned this event out with a
meticulous mind ensuring that his actions would not cause whomever found him a lot of work in cleaning up. He had set out a large blue tarp on the floor of his kitchen and even hung an orange tarp on the wall opposing his chair to catch any bone or brain matter that might explode from his head in the next few minutes. A mop and bucket were set next to the back door with a gallon of bleach and a hose. A box of rubber kitchen gloves completed the ensemble. He was generally a tidy person and he wanted to be sure that he provided the means to keep his home clean after he was done fulfilling his destiny.

He sat at the table and picked up the pistol. He felt the weight of
the piece in his hand. He particularly like the way the pistol molded
in his grip, reassuring him that he was on the right path. He felt at
ease. Placing the barrel against his right temple, he rejoiced at the
coldness of its touch.

"Death's finger upon my brow.. Sweet darkness take me now." He had practiced the cheesy lines many times and now that he was speaking them at the moment of truth, he felt reinforced.

"Did you unplug the phone? Did you check?" The random thought jarred him from his daydream of quietus.

He snarled and placed the gun down on the table once more and trotted over to the phone. He followed the cord of the phone to the jack. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the phone blared into his ear.  Catching his breath, he ignored the ringing and continued his search for the end of the cord.

"Not this time, mother fucker," he grumbled as he followed the cord to its end. He pulled the cord quickly through one hand and stood erect as he reached the plug. Holding the plug in his hand he turned and eyed the still ringing phone.

::Lost Memories

Locked boxes,

each a fragment of time,

float in a vast sea of etched metallic keys,

not a one a mate of the other.

::Words to live by (Signs of the times)

These are the times that try men's souls.
~Thomas Paine

Our enemies...never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people, and neither do we.
~George W. Bush

Patriotism means to stand by the country. It does not mean to stand by the president or any other public official...
~Theodore Roosevelt

The greatest menace to freedom is an inert people.
~Supreme Court Justice Louis D. Brandeis

::The Journey down the World of Darkness Trail

I commuted to work today via my slick new Trek 7200 bicycle. The ride was nice, it was like exploring a new part of the world.. you almost forget you are in the middle of a group of towns. You get the chance to get a breath of fresh air. Like I said the ride was nice.. its when the ride is over that the world come slamming down on you.

I'll admit I'm out of shape and probably could have done the ride a little faster.. maybe as I go it will get better.. but for now my ass hurts... not so much the ass but the crouch area. Saddle sore I guess you'd call it.

I'm definitely glad to have done it though... I'll be saving shitloads of money on gas. And I feel like I'm giving a big Fuck You to the oil companies! And yeah, I'll be in better shape maybe. I like the Fuck You better as an incentive.

:: Speaking of Zombies

The smell of weeks buried underground exhumes from the languid stalks that were once arms and legs. The bloated midsection squirms with the pulsating movements of unknown numbers of maggots, a few occasionally dropping to the ground. Fingers creak from unaccustomed movements across the keyboard, a whisper of a breath sends dust motes scattering. Dust bunnies scurry into dark corners for safety. Dry cracked lips part and with a raspy moan, a voice escapes from the hollows of long deflated lungs... "I pity the fool".

:: The Lullaby - a start?

Sam had never really been afraid of the dark before. She distinctly remembers tackling that fear at an early age. With a father like hers it was out of necessity as it was her only savior from the drunken evil that stumbled outside her door. She slipped out of her window and welcomed the solitude the night provided. Out here, he wouldn't find her and when he was finally passed out from his nightly intoxication she returned. She embraced the darkness like a friend so why is it she finds herself so terrified in the company of her old friend? Sam pulled the covers up around her, "What the fuck? This is crazy, I'm a grown woman after all." It was the nightmares, the shadowed face she continued to see night after night looking in on her in her dreams. "I need to stop staying up so late." She pulled herself together enough to get out of bed and pad across the bedroom to fetch herself a glass of water. She flipped the light switch on in the bathroom but the sudden flicker of light still startled her. "Get a grip, Sam, it's just a dream" The tap water in her neighborhood was horrible but the coolness of it was refreshing. She filled the sink and washed her face. The bags under her eyes were clear indications that the week long repetition of the dreams were taking their toll on her. "Maybe I should go see a shrink?" She splash her face again. "Yeah, let's go down that road again, Sam. Remember the last time you spilled your soul to a quack?" She quickly dismissed the memory and padded back to bed. She rolled over to check the time. "Five o'clock in the morning, UGH, why can't it interrupt my sleep earlier in the night?" She lay there motionless for several minutes pondering whether to just get up or shoot for those couple extra hours of sleep and hope them to be free of any more visions of shadowy men.

:: Cowboy Fan - Born And Raised

You wouldn't guess it looking at me now (mostly because I'm hidden behind the anonymity of the internet) but I'm a Dallas Cowboys fan. I'm not even a fan of football but deep down I have instinctual link to the boys in Silver and Blue. I don't watch football except on Thanksgiving to watch the Cowboys play. And if I happen across a game... no matter who's playing I'm rooting for the Cowboys.

For the longest time I couldn't understand why... then I came across these pictures. As you can see at an early age I was indoctrinated into the life of a cowboy fan and even now the memories slowly make themselves whole in the fog of obscurity. Thanksgiving games mostly, just after the parade at my grandparents house. The occassional weekend stay at the cousins. Even though my house was not very into sports, my extended family was.. and they were Cowboy fans. Even now, as I said before.. not much of a football fan, give me REAL football (soccer to us Americans) anyday but American football just doesn't do it for me. But even when a friend of mine "suckered" me into a fantasy football league, I filled with Dallas Defense (THey ROCK!!) and a mix of packers and oakland. Dallas has yet to let me down as I'm currently in third (not bad for a non football fan)... is it all due to the BOys? In Reality? Maybe not.. To me though, its all about the Boys from Dallas.

:: The American Dream

What is it exactly?

Wife, kids, house with the white picket fence?

For some its easier to experience than most. Some are born with a silver spoon, ten of us are lucky enough to have NOT used the numbers from LOST and woke up with 34 million dollars waiting for them. For most of us, we have to work for it, HARD.

Take Terry for instance. While on our way across this great nation of ours, I found Terry. He's the hardest working man in America. He works SO hard that one state cannot contain him. In Nevada, just past Reno, he runs "Terry's Rent-a-Toilet" a fine establishment with a very worthy cause... Fulfilling our nature's call when we need it most... after a case of Pabst's and watching "Grave Digger" mash up a few cars. A quick laugh and Terry was quickly forgotten. That is until he resurfaced in Wyoming as "Terry's Towing". Again serving the public, man this Terry is helpful and gets around. Just a coincidence I said and had another quick laugh. That is until we stopped in Nebraska for lunch... and was served lunch by... you guessed it, Terry. How does he do it? He so helpful and has a hold on at least two of man's daily needs, Food and the Call of Nature. He's got to be rollin' in bank.

Here's to you Terry the toilet man, Terry the tow truck operator, Terry the food server... The Hardest Working Man in America, you are definitely deserving of the American Dream.

:: And with a wince he put on the shackles...

of Corporate life. The new job will probably get better once I'm doing something other than reading docs and slowly testing my limits on what I can install on my laptop and what I can browse via the internet. The good and bad of corporate life is that its so big you can probably skirt by without getting noticed or on the other hand they can come down on you with the wrath of nanotech and ban you from Homestar Runner forever... so I bide my time and wait for the projects with which to bury myself in and slowly stretch my wings to see what gives.

I miss the Cali weather already... its been nothing but miserable weather-wise. But I'm definitely liking the space we have with the new home... definitely liking the idea that even though we live in an expensive part of Virginia.. its pennies comparatively to California. Sad isn't it? I'm NOT liking the fact that the only HSI I can get is Adelphia and they are blocking port 80!! How the bleeding hell am I suppose to run my own server if they block port 80? Sure I can port map but its just not the same. Anyone got some rackspace for a cobalt RAQ4 and a WINTEL server?
Sigh.. A friend of mine told me that if I can get 10 neighbors to call Verizon and request Fiber to the Home (FOTH) that they'll expedite the area on their "to do" list. I'm thinking that might be a good idea.

This post is mostly me rambling but its late and its friday and my work week felt like two... so deal with it, I am.

:: Missing Cali but only because its dark

Monday was crazy for everyone. And I missed getting a post out so here is one from the road. Gotta love wifi internet from the hotel.

We left as soon as I got home from work.. a grand send off topped with a few parting gifts from the team. One of which included my first cubicle toy.. a dancing hula homer. He sings "tiny bubbles" and is the best thing EVER!
We managed to avoid the afternoon rush and made good time through Sacramento. We passed through the Sierra Nevada and near freezing tempatures in the middle of the dark. The one thing we love about California and we missed it due to lack of solar lighting. *Sigh*

We stopped off in Reno and had a wonderful DelTaco breakfast before starting off again... we have several stories to share and we are only a little more than half way through our adventure. Stay tuned, there much more to come.

:: Saying Goodbye

This is Super Bug.

This is Scorpion.

Bitter rivals from the day they were conceived. And I'm sure they are at each other's thoraxes when the lights go out. With scorpion's biddy evil red eyes and Superbug's enormous head, I'm sure those battles are epic in porportion.

But by day's break they put away their enmity and begin their vigil watch over my desk.

Inherited from their creator nearly 2.5 years ago, they have watched over and protected my desk with only an occasional squabble or two. (Which usually resolves with me putting Superbug's fragile hands back together. You'd think that big head was his soft spot but no.. his achille's heel is his hands.) Their service to me is near its end and soon another desk will be in much needed help of securing its borders against such enemies as (to name a couple):

• The Office Collector - This villian pops his head up once and a while stealing money from the locals to pay for its festive rituals and forces us to sign away our souls on pieces of decorative paper
  
• MIS - The law of the oppressed. They enforce the totalitarian view against outside IM and the seeking of data via the collective BitTorrent.
  

They will have their work cut out for them as we move into a more open arena. They will have to be ever vigilant. I wish them well and pray they can keep their pincers off of one another. The safety of the team depends on their paper thin friendship.

May God Have Mercy On Us!

:: Crap and suck!! I've been tagged

KHHAAAAAAAAANNNNN!!

This whole thing with tagging bloggers is right up there with those darn questionaire emails that usually end up in my inbox only because my wife likes to torture me. I hate chain letters. I think its mainly that I'm someone who likes to keep personal things close to the vest. It keeps me safe. So why have a blog in the first place? Hmm.. check my archives, I'm sure I've answered that one already.

To sate my wife and because I was tagged from the most unexpected of places, here are my: (drum roll please)

Seven Answers to Seven Questions

Seven Things I Plan To Do Before I Die

• Retire to Scotland (A most beautiful place unlike any other)
  
• Create a legacy for my children (enough that they will never want but not enough to spoil them)
  
• Publish something (A novel, short story, SOMETHING.. I want my name in the library of congress ;) )
  
• Build my own home (and if possible a place nestled in the hills on the bonny banks of Loch Lomond)
  
• Refurbish the coffee table and end table for the Mrs. (she put this one on her's but we all know who's going to end up doing it :P)
  
• Watch the FIFA World Cup Finals LIVE and in person.
  
• Find the question to 42.
  

Seven Things I Can Do

• Script in PHP
  
• Be a ToysRuS kid
  
• Make an awesome banana milkshake
  
• Do my own handyman work
  
• Be a diplomat (even when I don't agree with the situation)
  
• Make my wife laugh
  
• Make fun of myself
  

Seven Things I Cannot Do

• Tolerate ignorance
  
• Play the guitar (though I'd like to)
  
• Find my faith
  
• Change the Past (can only make up for it, and I do everyday)
  
• Accept failure in myself
  
• Find enough time in the day to do all I want
  
• Dance to save my life
  

Seven Things That Attract Me To Another Person

• Intelligence
  
• Confidence
  
• Nice Smile
  
• Not afraid to laugh (even at one's self)
  
• Hints of a devious side
  
• Comfortable in their own skin (not hung up on what other's think about them)
  
• Loyalty
  

Seven Things I Say Most Often

• Shite
  
• Whatever
  
• Cheers
  
• Great googly moogly
  
• Crap and Suck (inherited from my wife who inherited from Reagan)
  
• But uh... Like I said (one for the Ethan Bebo crowd!)
  
• Bollocks
  

Seven Celebrity Crushes

• Christian Bale (not a crush but you gotta love a guy who can save the Batman Franchise and starve himself for a role)
  
• William Shatner (again not really a crush but a deep admiration)
  
• Angelina Jolie (a temptress)
  
• Amy Wynn Pastor (Trading Spaces Carpenter, just something about a girl who can handle wood)
  
• Scarlet Johansson (She's got classical beauty)
  
• Evangeline Lilly (Kate from LOST, I love freckles and LOST... a perfect pairing)
  
• Amy Lee (Evanescence front, my semi gothic love... and I seem to have a thing for Amy's)
  

Seven Bloggers I Tag

Ok, call me a party pooper but this is where I draw the line.. I've played along and answered the questions.. but I cannot bring myself to pass this along and tag other people.

:: The Death Blow Has Been Dealt

Today, I announced my resignation to my team. They took it as well as I thought they would. They are a great group of engineers and they expressed their sorrow and then went back to work. I'm sure its all being internalized and I hope it doesn't lead to further fall out within the group.
So I begin the countdown to the exit date and attempt to keep the boat afloat until the changing of the guard.
Meanwhile, I wait for realtors to give us the go ahead on our new address. As I watch the boxes of STUFF collect in the garage and den, its hitting me.. I'm moving to VIRGINIA.

WOW.

:: Been a crazy few weeks

Sorry for being away. Its been a very hairy few weeks. I've taken a job on the other side of the country and I'm having to tell my friends/team/co-workers that I'm leaving.
I don't know if this happens often but it happens often enough to me that I get to work with such great people that over time they become almost family. Its almost heartbreaking to separate from these people. The company itself has nothing to do with it. Its corporate, so its easier to leave; but the team is more than that. They are people... people I've had to share ups and downs with. I will miss them terribly.

Then comes "we can't lose you" speech from management. How can I make them understand that they basically uprooted me in the most dissmal period in the job market and moved me to the most astronomically unreachable standard of living in the US, all for chump change. It was bound to happen some time. Hell, I'm surprised we lasted as long as we did. All I can say is that we've been blessed. I'm thankful for it. But now its time to move on... with or without my current company, though I would be pleased if I could work something out. I just don't think its likely.

I just want to be out of California with as few ripples in my life as possible, is that too much to ask?

:: She Whispered (Alternate #1)

She whispered softly into his ear. The smell of his aftershave flooded her with memories of her few memorable moments with her father. He would lather up and coat his five o'clock shadow with soap which always brought out a giggle from her even when she was trying desperately to stay hidden for fear of being discovered. Her father ritual of shaving was a deep fascination for her. "You look like an old man, daddy" she would say. He invited her into the bathroom with a grin. "Want to give it a try?" he said lathering up again for her first faux shave. Eagerly she climb upon the counter and tilted her head back, ready to receive her own white soapy beard. Together they shaved, he with his razor, her with her imaginary razor played by her index finger. She loved this time with her father, it was one of the rare moments that she had him to herself. He worked long hours at the mill and was usually too tired afterwards to give her the attention she needed. What she loved best was his big finish, the facial bathing of old spice. The smell wasn't all that pleasing to her but it was his signature smell.. that smell was her dad.
Eventually as she started getting older their time together became shorter and shorter. He took on more responsibilities at work in hopes of making more opportunities for his family. She knew he did it all for her and her mother but a part of her hated her father for not being there. The school dances, the first boyfriend, recitals... all the things that little girls want to share with their fathers.
Years flew by and his little girl became a woman with her own life. Her mother confided to her that her father's heart broke the night she left. She tried hard to believe that but it just seemed unheard of for her father to have any emotions. He was a hard man and hard men had hearts of stone, invulnerable to life's heart aches.
A nurse enters the room bringing her back to the present. The sheet covering his now frail body is stained with her mascara-tinted tears. "Are you ready?" the nurse states very matter-of-factly. She nods as the nurse places a bowl, safety razor and lathering soap at his side. She fills the bowl with warm water and begins to lather. She wipes a stray tear on the arm of her blouse not caring about the streak she leaves behind. She proceeds to coat his five o'clock shadow. He sees her daddy again for a brief moment as she gently shaves his thin fragile neck and face.
After putting the finishing touches to his stubble, she puts away the bowl and opens a small container of aftershave. With the ritual complete, she leans over and plants a kiss on his forehead. "Good bye, Daddy... See you tomorrow." Only the slowly but steady beat of the heart monitor is his reply.

:: She Whispered Lightly

She whispered lightly into his ear. The soft brushing of her thin pale lips sent the cackles of his neck to attention. Who he was didn't hold much importance to her, it rarely did. Her only drive was what she could get from him; the quicker the better.
"Please tell me again in full detail. I want the when's, who's, and where's. The less fabrication, the better..." She played gingerly with the remaining fingers of his left hand as a reminder of the price he paid for his previous transgressions. "I'm only thinking of you."
She hated this part of her work. She despised the way she so easily fell into the role of "Femme Fatale", the pain giver. Why couldn't they just cooperate for once the first time around? She knew it was a pointless question. Its human nature to try to preserve one's health. Little do they realize that in the one question she poses they hold that very preservation in the balance. She wondered if her small frame, the fragility of her appearance was an unfair hazard. A trap that was always sprung when she would corner her next lead. Requiring her to don the mask of the maiden of pain.
She was always impressed at how long they maintained their obfuscations, at how well trained they were at keeping his secrets. But eventually they all cracked, giving up the smallest of details which she fed back to her benefactor.
Another part of her work that she regretted. Trapped in a warped Pavlovian game of cat and mouse. Salivating for her prize whether she was successful with the retrieval or not as she rarely failed at attaining what her benefactor bid her for. All so she could get what she wanted, her prize. It was something so small and insignificant that most people take it for granted, but to her it was her life's blood. Silence is all she ever wanted. Silence from the faceless victims that had suffered at her hands much like the man that sat before her.
A mad paradox, she would jest, to be driven so deeply by the promise of silence that to achieve it she had to partake in the very act that was the source of the need of it.
The faint rasp of his voice brought her back to focus. The bloodied spittle hanging from his split lip, the glazed look in his eyes, the near fingerless maw strapped to the chair. This one is about ready she thinks.