Things video games have taught me

• If a door's locked, return to it later. In general, things that seem impossible to accomplish can be overcome if you consider the problem, and apply hard work, when you leave it alone for a while.
• The instruction manual is your friend. Most of the time, reading the directions now may help you with a key ingredient to success. Maybe not now, maybe not on your first or second life, but some time, some day, the manual will come in handy.
• The larger the food, the more energy restored. The opposite seems to be true on Thanksgiving though.
• I can double-jump in mid-air. Usually, this helps me cross large chasms, especially when running around in spooky castles or spaceships.
• Weapons can be found anywhere, but the ones found in treasure chests are harder to find in stores. Stinkin' second amendment.
• Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, A, B, Select, Start. This will always help in a jam, and has helped me (in no particular order) get out of a Spanish test in 10th grade, evade a police cruiser, remember the combination to the lock on our apartment storage locker, sharpen a pencil, and create my recipe for chili.
• Zombies make up the rules as they go along. It's always best to identify which type of zombie you're encountering before you dispatch of it. Some zombies are allergic to sunlight. Some are cyborgs. Some die when you remove their heads. Some don't.
• In a street fight, chains deal exactly as much damage as knives. So really, it just comes down to personal preference. If you can throw the chain, then bully for you.
• Conscription. Constitution. Ocarina. And many other words I otherwise would not know the meaning of if it weren't for the character stat menu screen.
• There are two types of old men. On the one hand, there is the doddering old tinkerer who is meant to add comic relief to my otherwise serious quest for a princess, artifact, or power source. The other will tell me a story about a legend from long ago that no one but me will take seriously. Then to everyone else's surprise, his story checks out. In either case they have white flowing hair.

Sunday morning at the Mahoney household

Why is it that whenever my hair's a mess I look like I'm up to something?

I don't know much about it, but I love it.

The Wizard of Oz is sacred ground. Especially when it comes to the silver screen.

So what has me so jazzed about this new project to create a new Wizard of Oz movie? Well, for one, it's closer to the author's original vision of what that story was.

It also made me think of my own story.

Years ago, I began a children's book. It's a project close to my heart. It also was waylaid to life getting in the way. Yet I say to people that I'm working on a children's book.

I am, dammit. It's about time I start acting like it.

So with this image in mind, and this passion to bringing a beloved tale to life, I hope to make my own tale breathe.

Starting Saturday.

Third decade starting ... now.

Here's an example of what Age 30 looks like.

So I'm 30.

Marcy asked me the other day if 30 was how I'd expect it to be. The problem is I never really made many plans past age 30. I said I'd be working toward my Pulitzer by age 30, have a book written by age 30, and get on the cover of a cereal box by age 30.

I've only hit one of those goals.

So now, I guess it's time to take a breath, and look around, and see what I've been doing all this time.

From the looks of it, some pretty good stuff.

I may get hit with space trash.

Um ... NASA is tracking a piece of space trash the size of a fridge that is going to enter earth's atmosphere tomorrow. They're tracking the trajectory so that they can warn people where and when it's going to land.

NASA better have my cell number.

And this story says an astronaut "jettisoned" it in 2007.

All I'm saying is, if it lands near me I'm jettisoning a foot in someone's butt.

The world's best sauce recipe. And it's yours for free.

In less than a week, I'll be 30.

Times like these make a guy reflect on his life. Makes him want to give back. This morning I bought four canned goods and gave them to the Boy Scouts outside the grocery store. I had to - they had me at knifepoint and said if I didn't bring back peas for the Food Pantry, they'd find where I live. The short one was real mean.

Anyhoo, in the spirit of birthday giving, I've decided to give back to the community. By that, I mean the community of faithful Blurb readers who've stuck with me all these years.

At about this time in 2006, I told you of a traditional Irish meal I was serving to some guests. Well, the time has come to share that recipe with you, free of charge, as I listen to some traditional Irish music on my couch. That would be Death Magnetic, the new Metallica album.

Mama Mahoney's traditional Irish Spaghetti Sauce with Meatballs

WHAT YOU'LL NEED

MEATBALLS:
1/4 cup seasoned bread crumbs
1 lb. ground beef
1 lb. italian sausage (more if you want to add in a few sausages on their own)
1 tsp garlic powder
Dash of black pepper

SAUCE:
2 12 oz. cans of canned puree
2 12 oz. cans of crushed tomatoes
olive oil
4-6 cloves garlic
1 large onion
1 tbsp olive oil
2 tbsp basil
2 tbsp oregano
4 tbsp parsely
1 tsp salt
1 tsp sugar
1 bay leaf

HOW YOU'LL COOK IT

Combine the ground beef and 1 lb. of sausage (discard the skins). Add in garlic powder and sprinkle in pepper. As you combine the meat, gradually add the bread crumbs. Take some of the mixture and roll into meatballs about 1 and a half inches thick. Should make about 15-20.
In a large skillet on medium heat, brown the meatballs on three sides, leaving one side slightly undercooked. If using sausage, brown them on all side in the same manner.
Leave meatballs on a plate covered in paper towel to dry. Set aside.

In a large pot, heat olive oil on medium heat. Add onions, saute until brown (season with some salt and pepper). Add garlic, continue cooking for another minute.
Gradually stir in puree, then crushed tomatoes, then puree, then crushed tomatoes. Add salt, sugar, and spices.
When sauce comes to a boil, add meatballs (and sausage if you've got it). Reduce heat to low.
Cook for 3 1/2 to 4 hours, stirring occasionally. If using particularly fatty beef, you may need to skim fat as it rises to the top.

Serve with pasta and garlic bread. Add a salad beforehand, and for dessert, a parfait. Everyone loves a parfait.

My modeling days

I've started male modeling.

What can I say? When you have a mug as good-looking as mine, everybody wants you.

I've already had calls from Donatella, Calvin, and Isaac.

I'll be moving to Paris shortly, but I won't forget you little people.

I've begun my portfolio here.

Jon Hamm's John Ham

If you haven't seen Saturday Night Live in a while, you don't know what you're missing.

Stunt bug.

Marcy and I traveled to the wondrous Verizon store recently to sign a two-year contract and hook ourselves up with new phones.

She went for a sleek, silver model while I went for a thin black Motorola number.

Anyhoo, not realizing I could upload my old photos to my new phone, the event was an opportunity to dump off all the photos I've been saving for blog posts.

So check back over the next few weeks for a look at Bryan's life in the last few years, as told through pictures.

First up: Stunt bug.

I found this little guy on my car one morning before I went to work. I tried blowing on him to get him off, but he wouldn't budge. So I got in my car and drove off, thinking he'd fly away eventually.

This photo was taken after I arrived at work. My office is a 15-minute drive from my home, reaching a top speed of 35 mph.

He is the Chuck Norris of kaydids.

No one wants the Bush

In New Hampshire, a dirty race is on for the U.S. Senate. In one corner, John Sunununununu, stalwart Republican and generally pasty white guy.

In the other corner, Mean Jeanne Shaheen, a former governor and mastermind of John Kerry's presidential run in 2004.

We in Boston get the political ads from both campaigns. That's gotta be one heck of an advertising budget, considering New Hampshire has its own local media market in addition to the ones around Boston.

I've been watching the evolution of their political ads for some time, but I've noticed something lately that made me say, "Great Gipper, wouldja look at that!"

No, neither Sunununununununununu nor Jeanne The Machine Shaheen has really made an effective platform known to me, the curious but ultimately irrelevant out-of-district voter.

I refer, of course, to the almost Kryptonian nature with which they treat the Man That Would Be Bush.

Here's what I mean. First, the anti-Sununununununununununununnunununununu ad:

Next, the stylings of the anti- Lean Green Bean Jeanne Shaheen ad:

So if I was a voter in the district they cover (Thank God I'm not), I would be led to understand that both candidates have voted and paled around with Dubya. And that's a BAD THING. Right?

An aside: Who are people going to vote for?

To answer this question I went to the American Research Group, a thinktank that sounds respectable.

This group has Spleen Sheen Jeanne Shaheen running away with this race, at least as of Oct. 6, with 52 percent of the vote!!!!.

But as for ARG, further research indicates that no, unfortunately, it is NOT respectable.

Or, really, accurate.

The point is, both candidates point to each other as a failure in elected office, then compare their records to another failure in office.

Whether you vote for Sununununununnununununununununununununununnunununununununununununununununununununununununununununu or Jeanne OxyClean Ben Vereen Shaheen, I guess you're really just voting for George Bush to be your next Senator in New Hampshire.

Is it too late to write in Ralph Nader?

Marooned in Harrrrrvarrrrd Square

Yesterday, pirates Mad Eye Marge and Sweaty Jack descended upon Harvard Square to hand out flyers for the Costume Company in Arrrrrrlington.

A passenger on Boston's subway system was able to get this footage of the swabs as they made their way to Harvard Square.

I am a rock god, and not just in my head this time

I have discovered the wonders of Guitar Hero.
I've counted many of you as friends over the years, but alas, I have to say goodbye as my free time will now be spent on a fictional stage in a fictional band (Funkenstein, in case you wanted to know) with a molded piece of plastic serving as my instrument.

I've resisted these long years, but now the Guitar Hero has taken over.

I hope to find time to maintain this here blog, but we'll see what happens.

The space time continuum has broken

I'm happy that Sarah Palin in her debate said government should get out of people's way. It should be made smaller. Hands off!

In fact, that's true to a lot of the tenets of the GOP.

So, um... why does the government want to own banks?

I love you Tom Brokaw.

Tom Brokaw just told me I am not under the same constraints as the saps sitting at tonight's presidential debate. I felt good about that. Nobody to tell me I can't drink and shout at Tom Brokaw.

And now, a blow-by-blow of the Oct. 7, 2008 presidential debate:

9:14 p.m.: Cyndi Lauper asks the candidates a question.

9:25: Tom brokaw for the 14th time reminded McCain and Obama about time restraints.

9:28: finished dinner.

9:29: Joe Sixpack announces "I don't know what earmarks means."

9:33: Brokaw talks about being drunk. I really like this guy.

9:38: Obama panders to AAA lobbyists by announcing the Straight Talk Express lost a wheel.

9:42: Oh snap! Another Brokaw bitch-slap about sticking to the rules! "I'll stick by my end of the bargain .." BRILLIANT!

9:52: Someone leaves an anonymous comment on this here post that sums up voter apathy: "Nobody cares."

9:56: Obama says "fundamental" a record amount of times in a 45-second time span (four, I think.)

9:59: McCain makes a bad joke about a fine. I, in turn, make a fine bad joke:
A man walks into a bar. He takes a sip from his beer and a voice says," MM, baby - you sure are good-lookin'." The man looks around, but doesn't see anyone. He asks the bar tender, "Hey bar tender - did you hear that?" The bartender says," That's the peanuts. They're complimentary."

10:01: The cat enters the room to eat a snack.

10:04: An observation: Brokaw and McCain have similar ties on. And the lady in the teal sweater keeps smiling and nodding. I don't know what section she's in.

10:10: Obama wants to extend non-military aid to Pakistan. Says "We will kill Bin Laden."

10:11: McCain begins response with his hero is Teddy Roosevelt. He began his last response with "My hero is Ronald Regan."

10:12: We debate follow-ups; Brokaw admits "I'm just hired help."

10:14: McCain responds to Obama; says he knows how to get to Bin Laden. So to paraphrase Keith Olbermann: If he knows how to get Bin Laden, why isn't he sharing that information with the government now?

10:19: Marcy observes that John McCain holds his mic like an ice cream cone. "MMM .. delicious microphone."

10:21: McCain talks intelligently about Russia. If only this country weren't stretched so thin across this tiny planet ...

10:23: Obama finds yet another way to tie in energy to his response; this time about Russia.

10:24: McCain ALSO ties energy in to a response about Russia?

10:25: Telly Savalas is back from the dead. He's sitting behind the guy in the pink shirt that just asked McCain a question.

10:30: Best question of the night: "What don't you know and how will you learn it?"

10:32: McCain actually answers that question. Sort of. "What I don't know is what the unexpected will be." Obama just gave a speech.

10:34: Brokaw can't read his script because the candidates stood in front of it. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

G'night everybuddy.

Hi. I'm back.

Look, no long explanations about why I've been away. Just know that I still love you, and the Blurb is Back.

I have seen the light

And it is chili on spaghetti.

Weird, yes. It's a delicacy I enjoyed in California in May. I think I may never go back to the white rice on which I previously enjoyed.

This evening I made the dish with my own batch of chili, itself a masterpiece thanks to the hot pepper my mom gave me from her garden. A veritable triumph for the palate, the mixture of noodle and thick chili is a veritable smorgasbord of international relations, akin to Italy's alliance with Spain in World War I.*

Sweet Jeebus that was awesome.

*I did not at all look that up. In fact, it wouldn't be stretching it if I said I made that up completely. So, to make up for an utter lack of research, here's a photo of me, Marcy, and the SpongeBob gang eating chili at Chili John's in California.

Without a hitch.

This is my mom.

She used to make my Halloween costumes from scratch. Often, the Buffalo, N.Y. winters came well before Oct. 31, and we were stuck with baggy costumes that you could slide a winter coat under.

Thus, we were often clowns, monsters, and generally fat people.

But I digress.

Last April, my dad decided to throw a surprise party for her 60th birthday. The picture at right is the birthday girl in her special hat made by one of her friends.

I had to push her through the door when we arrived at the banquet hall. She could only exclaim, "OH MY GOD." She hates surprises.

I swung around and was able to take the photo below (That's the owner of the restaurant on the left. He was in on it.). Then it was a night of drinking and eating and reconnecting with family we hadn't seen in years.

When we got home, Mom, Dad, Laura and I let the party go well into the night.

In September, my sister is heading for New Zealand for about a year. It felt good to blow off steam last weekend, and have one big bash before she leaves.

Mom says she's still reeling from the excitement Saturday. She and Dad broke into another of her gifts tonight. She received many bottles of wine and beer.

Her friends know her well.

Tim.

There's something very non-threatening about the name "Tim."

I was just watching American Gladiators and they announced:

"NEXT UP: BEAST VERSUS tim."

Politics of grilling

I find myself sliding in and out of a new summertime ritual: The neighborhood cookout.

My neighbors and I threw a big one last summer. Another flamed up in June - to celebrate the Solstice, for you pagans out there.

They start slow. I wheel the grill out from behind the steps, squeaking and grinding until we reach the corner of the parking lot. This is the Patio, where my neighbors and I solve the world's problems. (Today's topics: Iran and Israel's relationships, how to avoid war, and Rick James' drug habit).

I prefer the meats you have to slow-cook; chicken, pork, etc. If I really want to drag it out (like today) I go all in. Beer can chicken. That's a whole chicken perched upright atop a half-can of beer. The beer evaporates and cooks it from the inside out, leaving the outside crispy and the inside tender.

I can't think of a place I've lived where the neighbors were so ready to welcome you in, take an interest in what you have to say or do, or help you out with anything you need.

Sort of a primordial thing, really, with all of us huddled around the fire.

But we do have one important thing the cavemen didn't: Microbrews.

Which one is from Hell?

I mean, that beard/goatee is pretty evil...

Believe the hype.

In the interest of full disclosure, this is the text of an e-mail I sent to my friend Joey C. after seeing Wall E last night. Joe and I talked about the sick reviews it was getting over the weekend, so I sent him my thoughts this morning.

Wall-E is all that.

I stop short of saying, "and more," because I thought the ending tied everything together TOO neatly.

But the story itself is amazing, as is the animation. It's got everything you'd want in a great movie, and I guess I didn't realize the underlying story at the center of it, which I won't spoil if you haven't seen it yet.

I love that no trailer or commerical has revealed anyhting past the first 20 minutes of the movie. I love that there is just one story arc, but deftly explored on two levels. And Ben Burtt is the man.

It officially has the coolest ending-credit sequence of any movie ever made (Yes, it trumps The Incrediibles and the Return of the King credits), with a kickass song by Peter Gabriel that actually relates to the movie's plot. Expect many a capella groups to emulate it in the coming years.

Albuquerque

Wokka wokka doo doo yeah.

I suggest visiting the Albuqurque Holiday Inn, where you could eat soup out of the ashtrays if you wanted to. Just avoid the one-nostriled hermaphrodites.

Shiv? Check. Bazooka? Check. Half-baked plan? Check.

In this day and age, can't you find just about everything in an Army/Navy store?

I mean, if I'm going to rob a store with a fake bazooka, and I'm not saying I am, but if I was, I'd do a quick Google search to see if I could maybe, possibly, remotely buy one on the cheap.

This is of course assuming this guy hadn't thought of that BEFORE he tried to rob the store with the fake bazooka.

From WMUR in New Hampshire:

A Salem, N.H., man has been charged with trying to rob three stores in 30 minutes, and in one case, a clerk thought he was armed with a bazooka, police said.
Police said Steven Conde, 28, tried to rob a Lawrence store Tuesday afternoon by ordering a clerk to put money into a plastic bag, but he left with nothing.
At a second location, police said, he entered the store with what employees thought was an intimidating weapon.
"He came in through the door with a plastic bag over his head and had two holes cut in it, and he had, like, a bazooka and he tried to assault us," store owner Eduvigis Ortega said.

Read the whole story here.

Marcy SMASH!!!

Saw the Incredible Hulk yesterday. BUT there was a slight problem.

On our way there Marcy and I had to get gas. We stopped by a Sunoco next to some medical labs that were doing some late-night gamma ray testing.

And ... um ... let's just say I don't mess with my wife, and you shouldn't either.

Making a splash in L.A.

Over at Playtime at Hazmat, my wife's blog, you'll find photos of our trip to L.A. Good times!

Oh my GOD I love Public Access

So right now I'm watching figure skating, and it's awesome.

This group of little girls came out first, skating - no, shuffling - to a medley of Muppets songs. The poor things can barely stand up. OOH - one went down hard.

I had to share this with somebody.

"Laura, turn to channel 8" I told my sister on the phone. She lives a couple towns away.

"Murder She Wrote? Why? What's up?"

Damn. Different public access system.

The Basic 2 class is up now, skating to Chubby Checker. They're slightly better. OH! Another one's on her butt!

"Listen to you, crushing kids' dreams for your entertainment," Marcy called from the other room.

HAHAHAHAHAHA. Bad ice skating is funny.

Fango.

Something to fill space

I realized today the bottom post was still about my haircut and beard shaving excursion.

There HAS to be more in life, right? So here's a blog post worthy of blog posting.

My mom is coming up from Buffalo this weekend, driving herself, my grandmother, and my aunt from London.

Wait a minute - that sentence is wrong. They are not driving from London across the Atlantic to Boston. That would require a Duck Boat and a lot of gas.

Instead, I meant to say my aunt, who is from London, will be visiting along with my mom and grandmother.

Mom asked if I needed anything from Buffalo. Here's the shopping list I gave her:

(Actually, she's bringing Ted's hot sauce. Not Ted's hot dogs. That would be overkill, since they use Sahlen's, which she's bringing anyway.)

A rundown of LA

We returned yesterday from a week in L.A. Until then my personal knowledge of Western geography was limited to Chicago.

Marcy was a great tour guide, having lived there for five years already. She and her friend Beth knew a secret way up to the Hollywood sign, passing one of Madonna's houses. Nice.

We visited some of her other friends at work, which meant visiting the studios at Nickelodeon and Cartoon Network. One of the shows on which her friend works, Flapjack, debuts next week. We got a preview, and let's just say it's HILARIOUS.

No trip to L.A., and indeed Hollywood, would be complete without a visit to the Walk of Fame, a movie, and sighting of a celebrity. We accomplished all three.

The Walk of Fame was fun; it's a lot longer than I'd thought. I felt bad about stepping on Robin Williams, but I lost my balance trying to look down while walking.

We saw Indiana Jones and the Temple of the Crystal Skull at Universal Studios Sunday. That was fun, and I liked the movie as much as I thought I would. I won't give away the ending; let's just say I'm glad Indy kept the hat.

Later in the week we visited an impressive art gallery, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art.

Thankfully, many of its collections left me less confused than many art installations I've visited.

The work at right is a Monet, which I missed in my trip but the place is huge and it's easy to miss things. The gallery had some of Andy Warhol's more famous work, which was great to see. I don't think I've ever actually seen a Warhol.

And now the moment you've been waiting for: My official celebrity sighting.

While at LACMA, we visited the gift shop at the end of the day. Sitting alone eating dinner at the gallery restaurant was Charles Dance, who I kept telling people was the bad guy in both The Golden Child and Last Action Hero. Mostly I got blank stares.

C'mon, people. SARDO NUMSPA. Here's some dialogue:

SARDO: I've been waiting to meet you, Mr. Yarrell.

FU: [Indescribable Tibetan language]

CHANDLER JARELL (Eddie Murphy): Get your monkey off my back.

SARDO: Of course. Fu, please retire.

CHANDLER JARRELL: Yeah, Fu. Save it.

Or, Benedict, from Last Action Hero:

JACK SLATER (Arnie Scwarzenegger): Did you make a movie mistake? You forgot to load the damn gun!

BENEDICT: No, Jack. I just left one chamber empty.

Check back later for more about the trip!

REVIEW: City of Ember

This fall, you'll see posters and signs for City of Ember, aND IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE TRAILER YET YOU SHOULD SERIOUSLY CHECK IT OUT. IF FOR NOTHING ELSE, BILL MURRAY.

Crap. Caps lock. Sorry. Not re-typing it.

Anyhoo, I went out and bought the book. Also bought its two sequels (which sucks when you know that the story's going to be continued.)

The book is great. Really, nicely done. A simple story but it gets rolling toward a goal that is somewhat surprising, though you likely will figure it out if you're 16 years older than the intended readership age. Like me.

Anyhoo, The story is this: This mysterious city is all alone in the dark, dark world. No lights from the sky or anywhere else except the lamps powered throughout the city. By these lights the Emberians live, but recently the lights are flickering or staying off longer than normal. And everyone can sense an impending Doom, though two frends are the only ones who can do anything about it.

It's a familiar formula to the Harry Potter series, if you're just going by the above paragraph. But I had to write a LOT at work this week, so cut me some metaphorical slack. It's really not like Harry Potter at all.

So here's the thing about the book: It starts off as a great story, but in the last third of the book you can sense when the author finally gets an idea that she's not going to finish the book at all, but rather continue it into an Epic Saga. Do you remember the days when books and movies stood on their own? When sequels didn't have to be so much a part of the creative process? I kind of wish this story stood on its own, because if the quirky and quiet marketing campaign doesn't draw asses in the seats this movie might never get the sequel treatment it needs to stay true to the books.

Of course, it's Hollywood. It's not like they're coming up with anything else.

Giant squirrel infestation

BOSTON, Mass. - A rogue team of special ops mercenaries was credited by the White House today with ending the three-day carnage that ensued when a North Shore nuclear plant exploded, spraying radioactive waste throughout a five-mile radius and causing incidents of gigantism in small, woodland rodents.

The giant animals went on a killing spree through much of the northern half of Middlesex County, tearing up homes and grocery stores specifically.

A statement from the White House this morning said that a team of ex-special forces led by G.I. Bill recipient Sgt. Joseph Curtis and Sgt. Conrad S. Hauser dispatched from Hanscom Air Force Base in Lincoln just before 4 p.m. Tuesday. Within 16 hours the team, which included an ex-pro wrestler named Sgt. Slaughter and a blind ninja, killed or captured 14 squirrels, bunnies, and one 17-foot-long alligator. The alligator mat have just been in the sewers and not actually involved in the nuclear plant explosion, according to the White House.

More on this story as it develops.

Surprise, life.

I delight in doing the unexpected.

"Who's she?" You might ask. Ah, friends, 'tis a good day when you jar someone out of their routine and give them something to think of all day. It's why I'm in the business I'm in. That, and I hate money. I hate having it, or looking at it, and I'd rather not have any lying around when bills come because then I'd pay them and who wants to do that? It sickens me that I've wasted so many Star Wars stamps heading to my car insurance company.

This morning there was a disgruntled man on the porch of my office. Yes, my office has a porch. He was asking another man who works in my building how to get to a certain place. Just so happens the information guy strolls up. That's me. I happened to know there was a press conference at the address he was trying to find. But to make things worse for him, that address doesn't exist yet. It's a ribbon-cutting ceremony for a business that will one day be there.

I gave him directions. But I was about 70 percent sure of where I was sending him. I don't know Lexington very well. I know where the Revolution started because I can see it from my office window. Other than that, I'm useless.

If he finds it, surprise! If he doesn't find it, uh, surprise!

I should have sent him off with a Darth Maul stamp for his trouble, but my last one went to Verizon, where I hope he opened a can of whoopass in the middle of the customer service department.

It's about the experience, people.

On Thursday the fine folks at GameStop who already held $25 of my money toward the new Mario Kart Wii game imparted to me a cryptic message: If you're coming to get the game Sunday, get here early to get your Wii Wheel.

Confused, I dumbly waggled my head up and down, jaw slackened. Sure. Get here early. Got it. I was under the impression the game came with one. Perhaps it was a limited-time only thing. Marcy and I continued with our evening, and I made a small mental note to wake up early Sunday.

Which was today. At 8:45 a.m. I was in the shower; a little later than I'd hoped because I was determined not to have a repeat of what happened with Super Mario Brawl. When THAT game came out, gamers lined up around the block to get in the store for their copies. I stupidly thought I could just call a store that day and expect them to have an extra one in stock. Stupid me.

But not with Mario Kart. Today I was prepared. Coffee percolated while I decided on whether to wear the Zelda shirt or the Ash from Army of Darkness shirt. I was reasonably sure the store opened at 10, which would give me about 45 minutes in the line to chat with fellow Kart-seekers. Were they a Zelda crowd or an Ash crowd?

In the end I decided they'd be neither. We'd likely have to talk about Super Smash Bros. Brawl. I don't have a shirt for that.

I raced through Winchester and into Burlington. In the parking lot I saw Game Stop's OPEN sign was lit up. Worse, no line. CRAP, I thought. They've already let everybody in! I really wanted that wheel now, not as a crucial piece of technology with which to play the game; I just wanted one on principal, since I understood when I paid the down payment I'd be entitled to one.

Coffee in hand, I entered GameStop. Two other customers were in the store. Wii Wheels and MarioKarts were piled up to the ceiling.

"Um ... I'd like my copy of MarioKart please," I mumbled to the clerk. "Sure," he said. "Would you like to reserve any other games today?"

"Wait. That's it? I just get my wheel and my game and I go home?"

"Yeah," GameStopDude said. "That's it."

No conversation. No waiting in line. No pageantry.

I took my plastic bag and I went home. The game sat on the coffee table until about 7:30 when Marcy and I finished chores and dinner. It was a lot of fun.

But it would have been more fun if I had to fight for it.

Ash 'n' Abe

This strange paint job was on the hood of a car in the parking lot of Marshalls Thursday.

If only Abraham Lincoln welded a chainsaw to HIS arm ... that Booth guy wouldn't have had a chance ...

"Yer DEAD, Abe! Dead I tell ya! Long live the South!!!"

"Ah, just like a Booth, Booth. Brings a gun to a chainsaw fight. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA" bbzzzzzz .... BLAM .... bzzzzz AAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA "NOOOOO, Abe, WHYYYY!?!?!!"

Based on the latest presidential debates ...

I choose Barack Obama based on this debate for best catchphrase.

THough I'd be proud to call myself a McCainiac too.

Cool things of the moment

Here are things making me happy right now:

1) Not having cable. To be specific, not having channels above channel 24. There's a freedom that comes with getting id of cable, like jumping from a plane without a parachute.

2) Blockbuster Online. Hells yes. Signed up and ordered three movies Sunday. They came today. First up: Beyond the Mat.

3) Wii online. We moved the Wii from the guest room (video game room) to the living room, where it now picks up my signal for the Internet. Bought two games online for it: Super Mario Bros. and Kid Icarus. Why? Because when I was growing up my friend hogged the Nintendo every time we played these games. Now I am the master.

Jacked-up Jedi hijinks

Can't. think. of blog.

A post shall come soon about Meep Day, which is the annual Mahoney family rite of spring/winter (sprinter or wring don't work) where gifts are made, not bought. We do this instead of Valentines Day, which is celebrated by watching Army of Darkness and thumbing our collective noses at Hallmark.

Because really: Are we better off with Valentine's Day? I say nay.

Instead, here are all the references to Star Wars I've come across in the last three days:

1. At an Urban Outfitters in Connecticut yesterday, I came across a Star Wars cookbook.
   
   
2. On Family Guy, Stewie just froze a guy in Carbonite.
   
   
3. While walking in downtown New Haven, Conn. we came across a mailbox painted like R2D2.
   
   
4. I paid two bills today using the last of our Star Wars stamps which were stuck onto the reply envelopes for our wedding. Darth Vader went to car insurance; Obi Wan Kenobi has gone to the electric company.
   
   
5. While visiting Ain't It Cool News I came across an ad for Spike TV advertising the whole series.

Beard Watch 2008

IT IS DONE.

From this day onward, which I feel begun

Both in me, and without me, and so last

To perpetuity; Ay, me, that fear

Come thund'ring back with dreadful revolution

On my defenseless head; both Death and I

Am found Eternal, and incorporate both,

Nor I on my part single, in mee all

Posterity stands cursed ...

-Paradise Lost, Book X, lines 811-818

John Milton

BeardWatch 2008.

If you haven't seen me lately, here's what I look like.

A few weeks ago, the beard had a close call. A close shave, if you will.

It looked bad for the beard, when during a routine trim I got too close with the sideburn. Nearly shaved the thing clear off, which would have boded badly for the rest of the beard.

I have spent all year with facial hair. But that may soon come to an end. It will be a slightly bittersweet departure, to be sure, but it's almost spring (weatherwise, regardless of what your desk calendar says about today) and the chin yearns to breathe free.

Stay tuned.

The things you learn.

Last night I curled on the couch for much-needed rest. We went to the gym, always a bad idea after you skip it a week when you're sick.

On the History Channel there were two shows; one about beer and one about whiskey.

I learned:

An India Pale Ale is not made in India. It's a British ale that was made very hoppy so it would survive the long trip from England to India.

The Jack Daniels distillery burns its own wood to create the charcoal that it filters its whiskey through.

The most potent beer is brewed by the Sam Adams co. Called Utopias, it is 27 % alcohol.

Mexican beers Corona and Dos Equis were actually started last century by Germans and Austrians looking to make their way into the American microbrew market.

The oak barrels from the production of Jim Beam are recycled by being shipped to the Jameson distillery in Ireland where they are filled with Jameson whiskey. That whiskey is then flavored by the Jim Beam bourbon that has soaked into the barrel for the last two years.

St. Patrick the Great

And now, a word from our sponsor:

Beer.

By Psychostick.

I like beer 'cos it is good
I drink beer because I should
if there is a song to sing
I sing it and beer you bring
I drink beer when I am sad
'cuz the beer it makes me glad
now there's nothing left to say
so lets go drink beer

Beer is good
Beer is good
Beer is good
... and Stuff

Beer is good
Beer is good
Beer is good
let's go drink some BEER

BEER

when its warm it taste's real crappy
but cold beer will make me happy
when I throw up on the floor
I can go and drink some more
they say beer will make me dumb
it are go good with pizza
now that we have drunk some beer
lets go drive a car

Beer is good
Beer is good
Beer is good
....and stuff

Beer is good
Beer is good
Beer is good
let's go drink some BEER

Beer

uh dude.. I think you've had enough
...No

lets go drink some beer.

Dog on blog

http://view.break.com/468548 - Watch more free videos

One year later, and beer is still good.

Don't cry for me, Blogentina (soft G), but I have cut back significantly on beer. Since Jan. 1, I've been cutting back and cutting back. Partially it's so that I can have more time to work out (pants fit me again!) but also it has increased our budget more significantly than I would like, which means I was drinking A LOT of beer for the second half of 2007. Not all at once; but a guy does not need a beer at every meal.

Oh, who am I kidding? I miss beer. Am I sad or what?

Then I came upon my blog post from a year ago, and saw me in my spiffy new haircut, and I thought to myself, "That was a good day."

But I'm about to embark on a journey to Ra Cha Cha for the weekend, and I have a feeling beer is in my future. Sweet, glorious beer.

Hey you Democrats

Specifically, Howard Dean:

I'm no politics expert. OK, actually, I know a thing or two about politics.

Why do you not want your party to take control of the White House? Why are you pulling for John McCain to win? I mean, that's cool and all, but I thought the whole point of the primaries and the presidential race was so that your party wins. But one hell of a strategy if this is all part of the plan, then, I'm sorry.

Rather than use a valuable two-month window between state primaries to formulate a platform against the other party, you're instead going to continue infighting. I wish I had at my fingertips the results of the 2004 primaries, and when specifically you knew Kerry was your man. And Gore before him, for that matter.

At what point does Dean step in and say, "Enough already. That was fun. You win, (Barack/Hillary)."

And Florida? How worthless is Florida? "Hi. I'm a voter in Florida. I've been told my vote doesn't matter and the Democrats want to spend $10 million on a new election or a recount. But no one knows who will be expected to pay for it. Oh wait .. I do, because it will be state, federal or local taxes that foot the bill."

I mean really. Come on. I thought around this time in 2001 the Dems would have sat back and said, "Sheesh. We really fudged that. Next time let's put up a candidate who can't lose. More importantly, let's hope Bush puts the country in the crapper and then we won't even need a can't lose; we'll just need one that has a pulse."

Three years later, their prayers answered, the party has another battle for a candidate. It's always an uphill climb to unseat an incumbent, but c'mon; by the time the 2004 election rolled around the country was past forgiving the presidents' blunders (lest ye forget at one point, post-9/11, the president enjoyed fabulous ratings in the polls). Ya needed someone with a pulse. Instead you put up John Kerry.

Now you have two candidates with fire in their bellies, and you're lost. We like 'em both, you say. Well McCain, while old and past his prime and also old, is practically an incumbent. Fringe voters remember his name from 2000; and then as now he enjoyed a more middle-of-the-road reputation than his Republican contemporaries.

It's an uphill climb for one candidate, let alone two. It's a mess, and again Florida is somehow involved. Here's a thought for the free time until the next state primary: Use it to establish a party line. Pick a candidate to run with it, and stick to it. Start convincing the undecideds out there (like me) that you've actually got a game plan, and your candidate is a professional who can actually run a country.

When the writers get settled in ...

... and everything's back to normal in TV land, I hope we get some better TV. I can't say there's much grabbing me out there; even Lost has lost its luster.

The I read this article at Ain't It Cool.

Nothing would please me more than to have Ben Browder and his gang revive Farscape. But this? Well, this could be something REALLY special. Browder the movie star?! If only.

Woman sits on can for two years

Everybody see this? Good.

The next time you get yelled at for staying on the pot too long, remember: It could be worse.

Click it

What you don't know can't hurt me

Here at the Blurb we do everything in the interest of full disclosure.

Here are some facts you may find interesting. Or not. It's really up to you. To be honest, I don't care what you think. Maybe I do. No, wait ... yes, yes I do care.

1. I'm indecisive in my personal life
   
2. If I accidentally hit the Caps Lock, I'd rather type a long explanation about why I'm shouting rather than go and delete what I've written and retype it.
3. My thighs don't rub together as much when I walk as they did in January. (I've been going to the gym).
4. When I was 13 I ran a 5k with my dad. I've never in my life been able to run more than a mile. To my credit, I ran two that day. The third I cheated by climbing a berm separating the road we were running on; thereby cutting 3/4 of a mile out of the race.
5. Considering I get enough of the news at work, my main news source at home is Ain't it Cool News.
6. If I won a million dollars I would give $400,000 to charity. Two reasons: Help sick kids, and take less of a hit on the taxes. The other $600,000 would probably go to a college fund for my eventual kids, likely covering half of the tuition.
7. I have had facial hair for the whole year so far. (Actually started the beard in November, making this the longest I've ever gone.)
8. My least favorite number is 9.
9. I'm a Sudoku savant.
10. I call Marcy "Marge." Marge Fartski.

I bested a grizzly with my bare hands!

1. What is your favorite word? Seriously

What is your least favorite word? loam

2. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally? Writing can be all three. Also, Cadbury cream eggs.

What turns you off? Narcissism

3. What sound or noise do you love? My wife's laugh, and someone saying "I'm giving you a raise"

What sound or noise do you hate? Cicadas, my shower pipes when you turn the Cold too high

4. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? I might try contract law

What profession would you not like to do? Competitive eating

5. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

I'm buying - what are you drinking?

A fistful of AWESOME

Over the weekend I had a tough decision to make. I was faced with a $27.99 price tag to own "The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters." With Marcy's discount at Barnesama Noble, that brought it down a couple buck. But now having seen it, I would easily pay twice that to see this film, and embrace it.

People, go and seek this movie. Wrap your arms around it when you do; kiss the clerk for leading you to it. Drive the speed limit back home; to get in an accident and be put into the hospital, especially a hospital without a DVD player in your room to watch this masterpiece, only to find that the movie was destroyed in the wreck and it's sold out in the greater tri-state area - that, and only that, may be likened unto death.

Because, you see, I have a vision. I have a vision that one day Congress forestalls hearings on video game violence and its fabricated studies linking said violence to actual human behavior. My vision is that one day, video games (a misnomer in many cases) are cast in the same light as short films, where each is evaluated on individual merit and art.

This film is beautiful because it both elevates and destroys that vision. It tells a compelling, human drama about a nice guy who always seems to finish last no matter how much heart he puts into life. This guy gets the shaft just for being born; yet a narcissistic blowhard slides through life by sleazing around behind the scenes.

It also offers a stereotype-enforcing portrait of every nerdy guy above 30 who is just starting to adjust to life beyond his mother's basement (these being the background characters, not the aforementioned protagonist and antagonist.) To this end, my vision of video games as anything but children's toys is millenia away from reality.

You don't need to like or care about Donkey Kong to understand this movie. It is a story of triumph, of loss, and the gutter-dumped pain that life too often brings to the wrong people.

Because it's pimp vs. hookers, that's why.

A friend asked me at work today why the story about Eliot Spitzer was such a big deal. Besides the obvious sexual deviance storyline, who cares?

There's a lot to say about it. How about the fact that the guy who partially built his reputation on busting prostitution rings now finds himself in them? Or that the guy is the married governor of New York, and having been its attorney general should be held to a slightly higher standard when it comes to enforcement of the law?

For me, though, the sad thing is this: It reminds us that people in government often get everything they have by shaking down someone weaker, smaller, and less powerful than they.

In that respect, the line between pimp and politician gets blurred.

Sick.

Whatever Marcy had last week caught up with me.

My post would have been about Jim's Steak Out, wings, and Labatts.

Instead, I give you a text frowny face.

:-(

BufBloPoFo out.

The Pod.

I'm getting cheap in my old age. I'm also beginning to see the point of view of rich, old white Republicans so intent on keeping their money.

Problem is, they also want to keep my money. So I'll remain a middle-of-the road, half- conservative half-liberal with independent tendencies.

I thought I wanted a big iPod with a million gig, but couldn't justify the $150 price. Then Marcy convinced me to go with a Shuffle, an $80 investment in making good on my $30 per month investment - that being the gym. So I took it home and put every song I could possibly have the slightest interest in hearing, and I still only half-filled it. No greater crime than wasted gig.

So this morning I left it playing a great tune - a Led Zepplin tune, and visit this link to understand my recent fascination with Robert Plant.

Here are the next ten songs.

"After the rain has fallen" - Sting

"Dazed and Confused" - Led Zepplin

Some song I don't know the title of - Led Zepplin

"Albuquerque" - Weird Al Yankovic

Another song I don't know the title of - Led Zepplin

"No Diggity" - Blackstreet

"Doorbell" - The White Stripes

"It's not over" - Daughtry

"Tell me Ma" - The Chieftans with Brak

"Englishman in New York" - Sting

The weird thing is, I have three songs by Sting on the whole stinkin' thing.

I have this, and you don't.

August, 2001. London, England.

An afternoon of British theatre yields itself to a particular thirst. Dry theatre, plus dry humor, well ... you get the idea. I was a cactus in a garden of stuffy, uppity hydrangeas.

I am alone in one the sections of Old London. Dickens could have peered from a corner to ask me for a ha'pence to call his mother. Then he'd say, "Oy, guv'nah, how do yeh use this telly phone?!"

The pub crawl commences. My feet point the way and my lips follow. Ales and porter flow everywhere. Then my buddy whiskey arrives, and he leads me through the old streets for many hours.

At almost the last pub, I meet a Frenchman named Bruno. We talk awhile of the neighborhood, of his country and mine. Somewhere during the conversation, he pulls an American $10 from his wallet.

"Do you know why I have this, Bryan?" he says.

"Uh ... no. No I don't."

"In my village in France, we have a saying. If you have an American bill in your wallet, some day the bill will become two. And those two will become four. And so on until one day, America makes you a rich man."

And I could have said a lot of things then. I could have told him (as I did a group of guys who offered me a lift one night) that in America we don't all carry guns, and we work just as hard to get the things we want in life. And some of us are better at life than others, and some of us still get left behind and forgotten. I could have told him the American dream is achieved by as much sweat and grease it takes to make it anywhere else, and our streets are not, and never have been, paved with gold.

Instead I took the Scottish five-pound note from the bar I was planning to use for my next drink.

"Bruno, you have your bill, and now I have mine," I said. "And one day, I'll make this bill become two."

O Lego, how I love thee

The following haiku all relate to my favorite toy when I was a kid.

Small, plastic wonders

O Lego, how I love thee

Sucks to step on you

A big block of blocks

What is that supposed to be?

A box? Oh hells no

A fleet of space ships

but not enough left over

For all the bad guys

Towers, forts, and worlds

It takes me just seven days

I'm a Lego god

It could be a car

But there is something missing

Just need one more red

Dusk begins to draw

From kitchen, Mom is calling

I don't want broccoli

Hey, stoopid!

Here's today's assignment, for background.

In case you're wondering what the headline has to do with what I'm about to say, let me elaborate:

Every time I feel the need to correct someone, one of my brain genies always shouts "Hey Stoopid" in the hopes that I, too, having heard the outburst will repeat it in the same, inane manner only more loudly.
(What's a brain genie? Everyone has a blue and red brain genie. You do, too. The blue one handles inert functions of everyday activity. Breathing, heartbeat, driving to work, turning the hot water on the faucet to just the right level for the shower - all of these are relegated to the blue brain genie. The red one helps accomplish complex tasks, such as balancing a checkbook or trying to figure out the boss's move pattern on world 3-4 of Super Paper Mario. Once that pattern is memorized, however, the task shifts to the blue genie. He's single-handedly responsible for my ability to beat Goonies 2 for the NES in under an hour. No need to thank me for the explanation.)

So today's BufBloPoFo topic is about the need to correct all the idiots out there.

As such, I would like to clear up some misconceptions on chili.

I know for a fact that if you put 10 chefs in a room and gave them each a set of ingredients for chili, a pot, and a broom handle with which to stir the concoction, inevitably ONE of them (or more) would find a way to use the broom handle as an ingredient.

Because there are just too many people out there who feel good chili has to have two traits: A lot of ingredients, and a factor of +8 soupiness (Since Gary Gygax, the co-founder of Dungeons and Dragons, died yesterday, I'm making at least one reference in everything I do to D&D in his honor).

Neither is true. Chili really only needs tomatoes, beans, peppers. That's it. A good chili will add onions, a variety of peppers, and hot sauce. A great chili needs only to be made by me.

OK, I overstated that a little. But where most chilis are at a +7 or +8 soupiness factor, mine usually hover at +2. And I break my own rule here because I use somewhere between 11 and 13 ingredients, if you count the pinch of sugar and hint of lime.

Chili should be thick enough so that you can eat it with a fork, and should be easily paired with a starch. Bread or rice work great.

It should be hot enough so that it's enjoyable at first, and tasty so you want more, but then it builds and builds and all of a sudden you're crying because you're ashamed at the mess you've made of your life but also the chili is hot.

So keep it simple, stoopid, for red genie's sake.

Stealing, and we're not talking baseball

So, my wife just answered yesterday's BufBloPoFo entry in about the awesomest way possible.

And, she included me. So rather than reinvent the wheel, kick it on over to her blog for my response to who I think would play me, Marcy, and Mike in a movie.
http://playtime-at-hazmat.blogspot.com/2008/03/casting-call.html

Banana's video

My friend Banana is in a comedy troupe trying to make its way in the world.

Here's one of their videos on Will Farrell's site, FunnyorDie.com.

He's the one in the pink shirt. This kind of reminds me of my bachelor party; not so much for the events that transpire but I got a distinct flashback of Banana yelling things at me.

Please spread the word and help these brothers out.

What's today? March 3?

So in keeping with the BufBloPoFo, let's forge ahead with today's topic: What went right today.

Well, lots, if by "today" you mean my life. But that's not just mundane, that's like getting elected governor of Mundania. My apologies to Piers Anthony.

Let's see what went right for other folks.

In 1887, Helen Keller began to be taught by Anne Sullivan.

In 1931, the Star-Spangled Banner was adopted as the National Anthem.

In 1969 Apollo 9 was launched. This mission tested the lunar module that would be used in the moon landings.

In 1991 Rodney King was videotaped being beaten by police. Some would argue this would have been a day that went wrong; I say, the man is alive today, and helped shed light on an unjust system.

Plus, he has a kickass catchphrase. Say this on a day going wrong, and soon everything will feel all right:

Best dang gift I ever got.

Marcy and I have this longstanding deal: We don't celebrate Valentine's Day.

Our feeling is that the world doesn't need to perform mating rituals a la a company striving to make money off them. So, screw you, Hallmark.

Instead we celebrate our own little made-up holiday, wherein we can't spend money on each other. We make each other a gift.

Over the years the gifts have varied, but last year's was nearly impossible to beat: I was given a cake in the shape of the death star.

Kick. Ass.

I wholeheartedly think every adult should try this for their next Valentines Day: Make something for your significant other. A card is a lame cop-out, but if that's all you can muster, go for it. But other suggestions include: A special meal, an illustrated book about the both of you ... maybe even a photo album.

It works every time.

Milk.

The question swirling about my brain today will be:

Did I mop up all the milk that spilled on my computer?

I mean, I think the little splash that fell on the monitor only hit the plastic, but I can't

#@&($

@$(@^&$(&@^$(&@^

#$*^&#($*^@#(*$^@#(*$^@&*^$#@&*^$..............

SYSTEM ERROR

ABORT/RETRY/SANDWICH............

What the? What the hell was that? My computer just started typ

@#^$%@^*%#

E#&($^@#(@($(@&#(*@&#*@&#

ABORT/RETRY/SANDWICH........... GIVE ME SANDWICH

Uh .. OK ... ham or turkey?

@#^*@*&#%@

#@$&^@#*&$^@*&^$@*&^$*&@^$

RYE BREAD, ONION, MUSTARD MUSTARD MUSTARD

Uh ... sorry folks, gotta go.

Guess what ...

I got a fever, and the only prescription is ...

more cowbell.

Yo mo fo it's the BufBloPoFo

Just a quick note to say The Daily Blurb will be participating in this strange exercise ... the BufBloPoFo.

Basically, all you need ot know is that I'll be blogging every day in the month of March.

Already I have a hadicap in that:

1. It's the month of St. Patrick's Day.
2. Marcy and I are traveling to Rochester the weekend before St. Patrick's Day.
3. I'll be at work all day Monday, March 3 for the town election, in which literally alomst 100 people are running for office.

Visit the King of the Bathroom's blog here for the details.

Rock the casbah I say!

Are you gettin' it?

Yes Armageddon it.

That song's playing on Marcy's iPod, which is plugged into the stereo, which is playing in the background as I talk to my sister on speakerphone so I can make plans for dinner later, which will likely entail some form of pork product and beer as we watch the Academy Awards and hope that Cate Blanchett wins an award for something in Elizabeth: The Golden Age because that's really one of the few nominated flicks I've sen this year.

So like I said:

Armageddon it.

Wife, cat.

Oh, and Paul Simon. Forgot to mention that.

So to recap, that's wife, cat, Paul Simon.

Add to that some Metroid Prime 3 and beer (Dogfish Head Indian Brown), and that's quite a night at the ol' Mahoney household.

Stone-cold Force Killaz

WAIT A MINUTE ...

Now that I've given Garv free advertising for his blog, I remember what I was supposed to blog about!!!

Vanity Fair has never written an article about a video game before. So when it did, it was refreshing to read a well-written and in-depth take on the medium without the filter of an "insider's" view.

I also like that it focuses on the convergence of three different technologies to create what sounds like the most realistic gaming experience ever.

The drawback is it takes itself a little too seriously, as if now that Vanity Fair has recognized video games as an artistic medium, it is so. Fellas, that was the case a long while ago, and I invite you to check out Shadow of the Colossus if you think differently.

Check out the article here.

Michael Garvey, you're my hero.

AH, thanks to Mike for reminding me about what I was going to blog about.

Him. Of course.

Mike and I have a long-standing arrangement. See, our birthdays are pretty close to each other. Every year we promise to buy ourselves a gift and say it's from the other. I think we're at about $50, which usually means video game. Or beer. One year it was Legos. Sometimes it's games and beer.

As our tastes are very similar, and Marcy sometimes questions if he and I were separated at birth, it's a good arrangement. I encourage you to try it with one of your friends. Though choose the friend carefully, as you essentially get what you put into it.

Your hippy friend living on your couch until "the right time," for example, is probably not the best choice, since what's his is probably yours.

What was I going to blog about?

Can anyone tell me? I sat down ready to go, then forgot the subject. I guess I'll have to wait for Marcy to wake up and remind me.

My apologies.

Grady wanted to post a reply to my rant about Rochester radio, in which I slight the city I called home for 10 years. But it got a little long, so here's a link to Grady's rebuttal.