Anytime I go through Vegas I buy what I call "trip insurance" in the form of placing a couple of ridiculously stupid long-shot bets at the sports book. I figure as bad as the odds are, they’re still better than the odds of collecting on that junk the credit card companies and shady travel agents usually sell as "trip insurance."
Anyway, I last drove through Sin City on my way home from a wedding in California. It was part of the great Road Trip of 2008.
Usually I just plunk down a couple of bucks on hard luck favorites like my dear Texas Rangers and Aggies.
This time I also put down a ten spot on the Rays to win it all. They were showing the same odds as the Rangers (i.e. very bad) but I figured based on how hot a commodity their young pitchers were in my fantasy baseball leagues that even if they were a long, long way out they at least had to be better than my hometown team.
Go figure, now halfway through the season they’re in first place in the AL East above the Red Sox and Yankees.
But based on my historical luck, I think I can pretty safely say that the Rays will choke in the second half. Heck, Florida may even fall into the ocean taking the team with it.
I fondly remember May 31, 1986. That was the day I got my own TV in my room. It was a big freaking deal. It was an old RCA relic with a blurry picture that kept glowing after you turned it off at night. But it was finally mine. And when I plugged it in for the first time that Saturday morning the VHF dial went straight to WFAA channel 8, our local ABC affiliate.
This was the first time that the Indianapolis 500 was shown live on TV rather than on tape delay, and I was about to pee myself with excitement. David Hasselhoff (back when he was Knight Rider cool, rather than ironic) sang the national anthem. Chuck Yeager (the badass who broke the sound barrier) drove the Corvette pace car. Rick Mears was the fastest man alive in my book, and he was starting on the pole.
Bobby Rahal ended up winning — the first person to ever finish the race in under three hours. It was a great day.
So as a racing fan, I’m quite happy to see the IRL and Champ Car Series reunified. There’s been a void in American auto racing, and it looks like it’s well on its way to being fixed.
For those who aren’t versed in the history of the sport, the shortened version of this story is that a few of the people in charge of “Indy” style racing have been bickering with each other for the last couple of decades. It resulted in the league splitting into multiple different racing leagues, and quite frankly the racing and the show suffered. This season marks the first season the groups have been reunified back into one entity, the IndyCar Series. And it’s a good thing.
My dad and I have been attending the IRL races at Texas Motor Speedway for the last four years, and while they’ve been very good races, Texas has actually been kind of unique in that regard. For the most part Indy racing just wasn’t all that popular anymore. Not only was NASCAR kicking it’s butt, but IRL wasn’t putting on the kind of spectacle that Indy racing used to be about. People would tune in for the Indianapolis 500, but otherwise people didn’t bother. And well, I can’t blame the casual fan. A race with 18 cars (only 6 or 7 of whom have a chance to win) isn’t nearly as exciting as a field of 30 cars. So it’s great to see that kind of excitement coming back.
If the kid sitting a few seats away from us who kept driving his Hot Wheels across his dad’s head is any judge, the sport’s definitely going to be alright.
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So it took me nearly a month, but my photos from the Bombardier Learjet 550 are finally up over on Flickr. (Here’s a link to the slideshow.) After past races I have rushed home from the track and gone straight to work organizing, editing and posting my photos. When you figure I take anywhere from 2,000 to 5,000 shots on the average race weekend you can understand what a grueling process that can be. This time around I decided to pace myself a bit slower and be more selective — and to not kill myself with sleep deprivation after the race. This was partially a conscious effort at forcing myself to produce different and better photos. But it was also a simple matter of realizing that June was a pretty intense month work wise, and I needed to be able to concentrate on projects and let the photos come second. (Besides, it’s not like I lucked into something wicked like the Michael McDowell crash back at the Samsung 500, so there was no rush.)
Go see a parade. Blow up some fireworks. Crack open a cold beer. Throw another shrimp on the barbie. Toss a few wieners on the grill.
When you’re done with all that, learn something about why this is such a great nation. Or just watch this quick video and go dig another brew out of the cooler.
It’s been a long time since I’ve done one of these memes. I stole this one from Clare.
Five things you were doing 10 years ago?
Spending my last summer in College Station
Working as the sole pit security person at a Shania Twain concert which ended with a stage rush of teenage girls. To this day I have never been more scared in my life than that moment.
Driving my friend Jason home from his internship with The X-Files and trying (in vain) to convince him that it would be unprofessional to NOT take the route that goes through Roswell, NM
Watching one of the MTV awards shows that contained a performance by Madonna, Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera and thinking, “In 10 years people are going to think Christina’s the crazy washed up one.”
Wondering if my roommate had been eaten by bears since he should have returned from a weekend camping trip by Thursday. It turned out he had flown to California to meet his internet girlfriend and he didn’t think to make the length of the trip in his lie the same as the length of his ACTUAL trip. He was not a good liar.
Five things on my to-do list today?
Finish a CD of “offline web resources” for a client
Finish editing photos from the Indy race a couple weeks ago
Try to improve the comment spam moderation on my blog
See if I can’t trade Brian Roberts in one of my fantasy baseball leagues
Call the doctor to make an appointment for a checkup (since I haven’t even set foot there in about 3 years…)
I only expect to accomplish 1 or 2 of these.
Five Places I have traveled? (I’ll give you the five most beautiful roads I’ve driven, in no particular order…)
If you’ve wondered why you haven’t heard from me in the last few days, it’s because I’m in Topeka, Kansas. I’m up here with my mom and sister helping sort out a few things with my grandmother. So far that’s mostly meant carting her around to a few doctors’ appointments and trying to sort out the sordid details of an 83-year-old’s pill-popping habits. (Who knew Granny was such an oxy fiend?)
Anyway, This afternoon for lunch my uncle took me to Annie’s Place for some local flavor. I highly recommend it. Especially the butterscotch pie. Sweet Jeebus, that’s a tasty slice!
But the reason for this post is an observation my uncle made.
When we were ordering our drinks I asked for lemonade. I generally don’t do caffeine except when I’m specifically trying to stay awake for something. At most restaurants that quickly cuts down your options to water, Sprite and lemonade. Any of those are usually fine with me, but I find I end up drinking a lot more unneeded sugar when I get Sprite. It has something to do with the carbonation, I think. As for water, I sometimes I feel bad for the waiter’s measly tip when you’re at a table full of 10 people and everybody’s ordering water and a half a sandwich. Of course, I also just really like lemonade. Especially if it’s “real” lemonade and not that “contains no actual juice” lemonade that comes out of a fountain. But with that said, I don’t mind the fake stuff, either.
Anyway, long story short (I know … too late), I ordered lemonade.
The waitress asked, “Is pink OK?”
I said, “Yeah, that’s cool,” and she was off.
Then my uncle says, “Have you ever noticed that if you’re a guy they’ll always ask if pink lemonade is OK?”
And he’s right. In fact, tonight at dinner the exact same thing happened again. We just looked at each other and grinned.
I think back, and though I’ve never even given the question an ounce of thought before, now I figure I must’ve been asked that question hundreds of times before. But two things stand out now:
I’ve been asked nearly every time I can remember ordering lemonade and the pink stuff was “on tap.” And I don’t think I’ve ever heard that question asked of a female in my dining party.
I’ve never heard anyone say, “Hell no, it’s not OK! Get that vile stuff away from me!”
So now I wonder, “Are my friends and family just more “pink friendly” than the average American diner?” Are there guys out there who won’t drink pink drinks for fear of someone questioning their masculinity? And is it any more manly to order a drink named Sprite?
To my friends out there who have waited tables before, I ask “Is this really such a big deal?”
To my other friends, I ask, “Have you ever turned away non-yellow lemonade?” If so, why?
At this point, I would call myself a “semi-pro” photographer. I have photos hanging in an art gallery. I have sold a few pieces. I have done work under contract. I’ve had a waitress at a popular establishment that serves hot wings ask me to take photos of her for their company’s calendar. (Though I sadly lost her contact info.) So all of that is to say that my camera gets a good workout.
I have a degree in journalism, and took photojournalism-specific and media law classes in pursuit of that degree. I’ve worked as a professional editor. All of that is to say that, though I am not a lawyer, I should probably know a thing or two about when and where you can and cannot take a photo. (And even so, I have consulted an attorney about that very subject, as well.)
It has happened to me more than a couple of times.
Not to go off on a rant here (I know … too late), but selective and arbitrary bans on photography are an incredibly unfortunate, shortsighted and quite frankly ignorant abuse of authority. They are not only bad for art, they are bad for journalism. They are bad for democracy and for America. The UK, too.
As many of you know, I’m a virtual dance machine. (Emphasis on the “virtual.”)
That’s right, just get me fueled up with about 2-3 quarts of liquid rhythm and I’m an unstoppable ninja of jitterbug and jive. Whether it’s cranking that Soulja Boy or simply sliding electrically, one thing is for certain:
My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard. And damn right, it’s better than yours.
Some would suggest that I should charge for teaching you moves such as mine. But I see such efforts as a public service. I know I’m doing my part to make the world a more soulful place.
So today, we’ll start with the latest dance craze that’s sweeping the nation. That’s right, I’m talking about THE FISHSTICK. You may have heard about the Fishstick if you listen to You Look Nice Today. If you don’t listen to YLNT (and you are not my parents) you probably should.
So what IS the Fishstick, you say?
Well, it’s probably easier to describe what the Fishstick is not.
The Fishstick is not a “line dance.” You could perhaps do it while standing in a line. And perhaps everyone in that line may be doing the Fishstick. But unlike a “line dance” there is not, nor should there be, a coordination of the movements of the individuals present.
There are no “steps” to the Fishstick. The Fishstick is predominantly an intellectual pursuit. As Merlin Mann said while debuting the dance on YLNT, “the Fishstick is mostly happening in your head.”
The Fishstick is not flamboyant or flashy. It has a subtle grace. In fact, it may not be obvious. The Fishstick is often mistaken for spasms or slight seizures.
But really, haven’t we talked about the Fishstick enough? It’s probably better that I just show you.
Because the Fishstick is particularly mellow and limited range of motion is not an impediment to its exhibition, the Fishstick is well suited for performing while driving. Certainly more so than the Charleston.
So that’s the situation for this instructional clip. Follow along, if you’re feeling it.
Now would be an appropriate time to point out that there are several regional varieties of the Fishstick. The traditional music to which the Fishstick should be performed if doing the original “San Francisco Style” Fishstick is Tighten Up by Archie Bell and the Drells.
In North Texas, this would be a major faux pas. Up here we have a particular distaste for all things from Houston, the Drells’ home town, which is prominently mentioned in their version of the song. So performing to their version would be like showing up at Wrigley Field wearing a White Sox cap and t-shirt — a bad, bad idea. Therefore, in the greater Dallas area the Fishstick is commonly performed to the version of Tighten Up which appears on James Brown’s Say It Live and Loud: Live in Dallas 08.26.68 album.
I also realize that some of you are saying to yourselves, “Hey, I think this video has been edited! Can’t you show us the Fishstick in a single take?”
Good eyes, keen observer! You are absolutely right: This video has been edited. If you look closely, you may notice that I am driving a big, American pickup truck. Since this clip is nearly NINETY SECONDS LONG I had to stop for gas in the middle of the filming, so it only made sense to edit that out. I also stopped at Sonic for a delicious strawberry limeade. Proper hydration is key to a good Fishstick.
I know I haven’t updated in a while. I’ve been insanely busy the last couple of weeks (business is good) and just haven’t had time to write anything. Rest assured though, I’ve been bookmarking a few things to post about. And more importantly, the site I’m passing along in today’s post will make up for my recent absence.
Last night I was catching up on Leo Laporte and Amber MacArthur’s net@night podcast while burning the midnight oil plugging away on some code. As I’ve mentioned before, I absolutely love it whenever you can get a peek into the “hive mind” of the internet and simultaneously get a glimpse of both the macro and the micro of what a community is thinking. On episode 52 Leo and Amber discussed something that I knew I had to check out:
What it does is scan the latest posts on Twitter for each of those six words on the left of the screen. Then it just displays those posts in a continually updating feed. It’s mesmerizing to watch. Some of the posts will be hilarious. Some will be deeply personal and serious. Looking at this evoked a bit of the same emotions I had the first time I saw PostSecret.
Anyway, I just thought this was exceptionally cool and beautiful.
Oh, and they even made a screen saver out of it. (I think it’s Mac only, though.) What’s especially nifty about the screen saver is that I have a dual monitor setup, and it will start the feed in different places for each monitor. So I may have “love” on one screen and “hate” on the other. And come on, that’s just totally wickedly cool.
This photo of my dad’s Dodge Charger SRT8 is my most viewed photo in my Flickr stream. As of today it is now over 10,000 views. Yes, that’s the right number of zeroes. TEN THOUSAND views.
My next highest ranked photo has just over 3,000 views.
What’s interesting to me is that the vast majority of this traffic (85%) is from Yahoo search. Another 6% is from Flickr search. The rest is scattered among a million little things.
Part of the reason I find this so interesting is that I have 1,825 other photos posted on Flickr. I have several other photos of Dodge Chargers. Why, out of all of these photos, is this one so popular?
It’s certainly not my best photo. It’s certainly not my most sensational photo. Heck, I have good photos of famous people. I even have photos of famous people that have been blogged by the famous people in the photo!
What’s so special about this? Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I’m just curious.
