After falling out of favor, Old Spice is rebranding itself and I think most of the ads are hilarious.Check this one out:
I'm still not going to buy any - mostly because I'm not 16 years old or into perfume for men.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Old Spice
My dad wore Old Spice when I was a child and I grew up with the familiar white bottles around the house.
After falling out of favor, Old Spice is rebranding itself and I think most of the ads are hilarious.
Check this one out:
I'm still not going to buy any - mostly because I'm not 16 years old or into perfume for men.
After falling out of favor, Old Spice is rebranding itself and I think most of the ads are hilarious.Check this one out:
I'm still not going to buy any - mostly because I'm not 16 years old or into perfume for men.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Designed to Fly
by Ellen Waterston
After ten hours of trying
the instructor undid
my fingers, peeled
them one by one
off the joystick.
"You don't need
to hold the plane
in the air," he advised.
"It's designed to fly.
A hint of aileron,
a touch of rudder,
is all that is required."
I looked at him
like I'd seen God.
Those props and struts
he mentioned, they too,
I realized, all contrived.
I grew dizzy
from the elevation
from looking so far
down at the surmise:
the airspeed of faith
underlies everything.
Lives are designed
to fly.
After ten hours of trying
the instructor undid
my fingers, peeled
them one by one
off the joystick.
"You don't need
to hold the plane
in the air," he advised.
"It's designed to fly.
A hint of aileron,
a touch of rudder,
is all that is required."
I looked at him
like I'd seen God.
Those props and struts
he mentioned, they too,
I realized, all contrived.
I grew dizzy
from the elevation
from looking so far
down at the surmise:
the airspeed of faith
underlies everything.
Lives are designed
to fly.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Cats and Dogs
I tweeted earlier about my wife’s ability to make printers cease to work, and it has nothing to do with her computer skills. It’s just the old cliche of machines deciding to operate based on their perception of your needs. Cars are dogs; at their worst, they’ll try. Printers and copiers are cats. I bought her a printer last year, but it refused to work with her Mac mini. Finally I swapped my old printer for hers, installed the drivers – a whopping half-gig of HP garbage spat all over the disk, with constant requests to install a module that would allow me to participate in a survey. There are times when YES and NO are not sufficient options, when HELL NO is what you really want to click. . . .
The only way BP could be more hated: if they changed their name to HP and were spilling printer ink into the Gulf. At the current price that would be about a billion dollars an hour, probably.
- Lileks
The only way BP could be more hated: if they changed their name to HP and were spilling printer ink into the Gulf. At the current price that would be about a billion dollars an hour, probably.
- Lileks
3 . . . 2 . . . . 1 . . . . Blastoff!
Annie loves to put things on her head - toys, blocks, books, towels . . . you name it. She puts them on her head and then looks at you like, "TA-DA!!!!"
Lately she has discovered the clear plastic salad bowl. She just sits there - shouting into the bowl and listing to how her voice changes.
Lately she has discovered the clear plastic salad bowl. She just sits there - shouting into the bowl and listing to how her voice changes.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
New Profile Pic (Proposed)
I'm not sure how I got here . . . .
I'm pretty sure I don't belong here . . . .
Would someone please get me otta here? . . . .
I'm pretty sure I don't belong here . . . .
Would someone please get me otta here? . . . .
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
It Outta Hurt . . . .
Ha! This post reminded me of something . . . .
So a couple of weeks ago at the office, the back of my head starts hurting. I mean like a pointed-surface-type-of-hurting - not a headache-type-of-hurting.
When I got home, I remarked about it to my wife and she said, "Well it outta hurt - you fell out of bed and hit your head on the nightstand last night."
Whhhhaaaaaaa - Haaaaaaaaaaaaa???????
Turns out, the wife asked me to roll over b/c I was snoring and I rolled right out of bed - hitting my head on the way to the floor. According to the wife, I sat there on the floor for a few secs with my back against the bed and exclaimed, "It's the middle of the friggin' night! Why won't you people leave me alone?!" And then climbed back in bed and proceeded to snore the night away.
So a couple of weeks ago at the office, the back of my head starts hurting. I mean like a pointed-surface-type-of-hurting - not a headache-type-of-hurting.
When I got home, I remarked about it to my wife and she said, "Well it outta hurt - you fell out of bed and hit your head on the nightstand last night."
Whhhhaaaaaaa - Haaaaaaaaaaaaa???????
Turns out, the wife asked me to roll over b/c I was snoring and I rolled right out of bed - hitting my head on the way to the floor. According to the wife, I sat there on the floor for a few secs with my back against the bed and exclaimed, "It's the middle of the friggin' night! Why won't you people leave me alone?!" And then climbed back in bed and proceeded to snore the night away.
Now keep in mind, I regularly forget to apply the nose-snore-strips that the wife has prescribed so I am often awakened by the wife pressing adhesives to my nostrils WHICH IS A HASSLE FOR EVERYONE . . . then again . . . Maybe it's all that sympathy weight from the pregnancy that I am still carrying around . . . . .
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
The Making of a Fan
Video 1: My Response: "Huh, that's sort of weird . . ."
Video 2: My Response: "Wow, that's pretty cool . . ."
Video 3: My Response: "Okay, this guy is worth posting about . . ."
Video 2: My Response: "Wow, that's pretty cool . . ."
Video 3: My Response: "Okay, this guy is worth posting about . . ."
Quote of the Day
We plan, we toil, we suffer in the hope of what? A camel-load of idol’s eyes? The title deeds of Radio City? TheEmpire of Asia? A trip to the moon? No, no, no, no. Simply to wake in time to smell coffee and bacon and eggs.
- J.B.Priestley.
- J.B.Priestley.
The House that Goes Dancing
by Deborah Digges
Not always but sometimes when I put on some music
the house it goes dancing down through the yard
to cha-cha the willows or up into town
to tango the churches.
The neighbors, appalled, they call the police.
The dogcatcher chases my dogs up the street.
Toward the house that goes dancing in raven black boots
or enormous bed slippers,
dragging one leg like an earnest old hunchback
through the midsummer gardens gathering garlands
to wrap round her roof, she goes dancing,
love's house she goes dancing her grief-stricken dance
for his unpacked suitcases, his detritus, his hair, his hairbrush,
his glasses, his letters, his toothbrush,
his closets of clothes where I crouch like a thief
when the house it goes dancing,
a stowaway hiding in big woolen coats,
the scent of his body, the smell of him rising.
We are shaken past the ending, his passing,
Who waltz out of town,
All our mirrors well shattered, our china, our crystal,
Our lightbulbs, our pictures have crashed from the walls.
A magnificent mess!—The doors off their hinges,
the windows wide open.
Let his spirit let go now and his big broken heart,
neither sky nor horizon, neither clay nor this dust.
It's as if he went racing his horse
past the house as we dance him goodbye
as far as we can, as we call out goodbye with our hands
round our mouths, shouting and dancing,
dancing and calling to the edge of the world
through the fields.
Not always but sometimes when I put on some music
the house it goes dancing down through the yard
to cha-cha the willows or up into town
to tango the churches.
The neighbors, appalled, they call the police.
The dogcatcher chases my dogs up the street.
Toward the house that goes dancing in raven black boots
or enormous bed slippers,
dragging one leg like an earnest old hunchback
through the midsummer gardens gathering garlands
to wrap round her roof, she goes dancing,
love's house she goes dancing her grief-stricken dance
for his unpacked suitcases, his detritus, his hair, his hairbrush,
his glasses, his letters, his toothbrush,
his closets of clothes where I crouch like a thief
when the house it goes dancing,
a stowaway hiding in big woolen coats,
the scent of his body, the smell of him rising.
We are shaken past the ending, his passing,
Who waltz out of town,
All our mirrors well shattered, our china, our crystal,
Our lightbulbs, our pictures have crashed from the walls.
A magnificent mess!—The doors off their hinges,
the windows wide open.
Let his spirit let go now and his big broken heart,
neither sky nor horizon, neither clay nor this dust.
It's as if he went racing his horse
past the house as we dance him goodbye
as far as we can, as we call out goodbye with our hands
round our mouths, shouting and dancing,
dancing and calling to the edge of the world
through the fields.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Lake Powell
So friends of ours rented a house boat on Lake Powell for a week and invited us to join them. For those of you who don't know, Lake Powell straddles the Arizona / Utah border and is considered by many to be the beginning of the Grand Canyon.
I have never been to Lake Powell, never been to the Grand Canyon and never stayed on a house boat so this was all new to me.
The slide show is below but just to give some reference points:
- 11 hour drive from San Diego
- The upper deck of the houseboat had padded sleeping areas. Due to space below, I "took one for the team" and slept under the stars all week - I had a scalp full of bug bites but it was worth it!
- Yes. That is a jacuzzi. On the top deck. I KNOW!
- Annie loves the water and this was the first time we sat her by herself at the water's edge. Annie has a habit of face-planting so just out of the frame are mommy and daddy trying not to scream "Grab her!"
- Annie loves daddy's hats - she commandeered my "houseboat hat" at one point
- One of the highlights was the wife flying a kite, from the top deck, while in the jacuzzi.
- Did I mention we had company the same week we were on vacation? We came home to our dear friends with three kids of their own who had been staying at our house the week we were gone. We bbq'ed and ate outside with fancy hats.
I have never been to Lake Powell, never been to the Grand Canyon and never stayed on a house boat so this was all new to me.
The slide show is below but just to give some reference points:
- 11 hour drive from San Diego
- The upper deck of the houseboat had padded sleeping areas. Due to space below, I "took one for the team" and slept under the stars all week - I had a scalp full of bug bites but it was worth it!
- Yes. That is a jacuzzi. On the top deck. I KNOW!
- Annie loves the water and this was the first time we sat her by herself at the water's edge. Annie has a habit of face-planting so just out of the frame are mommy and daddy trying not to scream "Grab her!"
- Annie loves daddy's hats - she commandeered my "houseboat hat" at one point
- One of the highlights was the wife flying a kite, from the top deck, while in the jacuzzi.
- Did I mention we had company the same week we were on vacation? We came home to our dear friends with three kids of their own who had been staying at our house the week we were gone. We bbq'ed and ate outside with fancy hats.
Did I mention that the roomie ran a marathon the day we got back? All my photos are sideways and I don't have time to correct them.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Quote of the Day
"Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it everywhere, diagnosing it incorrectly and applying the wrong remedies."
- Groucho Marx
- Groucho Marx
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Why Don't You Just Stab Me in the Heart . . .
LINK
Teaser:
Me: "Why do you have a shunt?"
Esther-Faith: "It helps my brain work right."
Me: "But why?"
Esther-Faith: "Because I have hydrocephalus."
Me: "Oh. Do you know what that is?"
Esther-Faith: "It is why I have a shunt."
Me: "Do you know what caused the hydrocephalus?"
Esther-Faith: (shaking her head "no" as she sucked the juice out of the top of another piece of broccoli)
Me: "You were born with Spina Bifida."
Esther-Faith: "No I wasn't. Spina Bifida is a castle."
Me: "It is?"
Teaser:
Me: "Why do you have a shunt?"
Esther-Faith: "It helps my brain work right."
Me: "But why?"
Esther-Faith: "Because I have hydrocephalus."
Me: "Oh. Do you know what that is?"
Esther-Faith: "It is why I have a shunt."
Me: "Do you know what caused the hydrocephalus?"
Esther-Faith: (shaking her head "no" as she sucked the juice out of the top of another piece of broccoli)
Me: "You were born with Spina Bifida."
Esther-Faith: "No I wasn't. Spina Bifida is a castle."
Me: "It is?"
You Can Thank Me Later . . . .
After you have spent the rest of your day with this song in your head . . . .
Lost Childhood
by David Ignatow
How was it possible, I a father
yet a child of my father? I
grew panicky and thought
of running away but knew
I would be scorned for it
by my father. I stood
and listened to myself
being called Dad.
How ridiculous it sounded,
but in front of me, asking
for attention—how could I,
a child, ignore this child's plea?
I lifted him into my arms
and hugged him as I would have
wanted my father to hug me,
and it was as though satisfying
my own lost childhood.
How was it possible, I a father
yet a child of my father? I
grew panicky and thought
of running away but knew
I would be scorned for it
by my father. I stood
and listened to myself
being called Dad.
How ridiculous it sounded,
but in front of me, asking
for attention—how could I,
a child, ignore this child's plea?
I lifted him into my arms
and hugged him as I would have
wanted my father to hug me,
and it was as though satisfying
my own lost childhood.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Dharma
by Billy Collins
The way the dog trots out the front door
every morning
without a hat or an umbrella,
without any money
or the keys to her dog house
never fails to fill the saucer of my heart
with milky admiration.
Who provides a finer example
of a life without encumbrance—
Thoreau in his curtainless hut
with a single plate, a single spoon?
Ghandi with his staff and his holy diapers?
Off she goes into the material world
with nothing but her brown coat
and her modest blue collar,
following only her wet nose,
the twin portals of her steady breathing,
followed only by the plume of her tail.
If only she did not shove the cat aside
every morning
and eat all his food
what a model of self-containment she would be,
what a paragon of earthly detachment.
If only she were not so eager
for a rub behind the ears,
so acrobatic in her welcomes,
if only I were not her god.
The way the dog trots out the front door
every morning
without a hat or an umbrella,
without any money
or the keys to her dog house
never fails to fill the saucer of my heart
with milky admiration.
Who provides a finer example
of a life without encumbrance—
Thoreau in his curtainless hut
with a single plate, a single spoon?
Ghandi with his staff and his holy diapers?
Off she goes into the material world
with nothing but her brown coat
and her modest blue collar,
following only her wet nose,
the twin portals of her steady breathing,
followed only by the plume of her tail.
If only she did not shove the cat aside
every morning
and eat all his food
what a model of self-containment she would be,
what a paragon of earthly detachment.
If only she were not so eager
for a rub behind the ears,
so acrobatic in her welcomes,
if only I were not her god.
Monday, June 7, 2010
The Couple
by Louis Jenkins
They no longer sleep quite as well as they did
when they were younger. He lies awake thinking
of things that happened years ago, turning
uncomfortably from time to time, pulling on the
blankets. She worries about money. First one
and then the other is awake during the night,
in shifts as if keeping watch, though they can't
see very much in the dark and it's quiet. They
are sentries at some outpost, an abandoned fort
somewhere in the middle of the Great Plains
where only the wind is a regular visitor. Each
stands guard in the wilderness of an imagined
life in which the other sleeps untroubled.
They no longer sleep quite as well as they did
when they were younger. He lies awake thinking
of things that happened years ago, turning
uncomfortably from time to time, pulling on the
blankets. She worries about money. First one
and then the other is awake during the night,
in shifts as if keeping watch, though they can't
see very much in the dark and it's quiet. They
are sentries at some outpost, an abandoned fort
somewhere in the middle of the Great Plains
where only the wind is a regular visitor. Each
stands guard in the wilderness of an imagined
life in which the other sleeps untroubled.
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