John, Paul and Christmas

Everyone knows that by the end of the 60's John Lennon and Paul McCartney were headed in different directions creatively.

I don't really care what side you come down on on that issue, it doesn't matter. I've personally always trended toward McCartney's stuff myself, but that is cause John just seems to serious to me. But if you need an indication of how polar their directions were look no further than the Christmas "hits" the put out after the split.

John: (nasally and overly-sincere voice) "So this is Christmas, And what have you done, Another year over, And a new one just begun"

Paul: (overly jolly) "Simply, having, a wonderful Christmas time. Simply, having, a wonderful Christmas time."

John: "So this is Christmas, and what have you done, the war is over, and you're really bummed!"

Paul: "Simply, having, a wonderful Christmas time. Simply, having, a wonderful Christmas time."

John: "So this is Christmas, and what have you done, you murdered a soldier, and killed all our mums"

Paul: SIMPLY, HAVING, A WONDERFULCHRISTMASTIME! SIMPLY, HAVING, A WONDERFULCHRISTMASTIME!!!!

Why Everyone was Wrong

Growing up I was told by adults "Dress for the job you want, not the job you have."

That's a crock, because if that were true, I would dress like this everyday:

In the words of Inigo Montoya in The Princess Bride "Lemme esplain... no there is too much, lemme sum up."

I am wearing a space helmet, because my job would be to fly in outer space and fight bad guys on space stations. I know they didn't wear helmets like that in Star Wars, but that helmet is awesome. Just look at it.

Also, I am wearing a tuxedo because I would also be a James Bond style intergalactic spy.

If i showed up to work in a Space Helmet and a Tuxedo I have a feeling I would end up talking to the HR representative against my will. Adults lied. I cannot wear this to work.

Genius

This is one of the best mashups I've ever heard. It is brilliant, and both songs (good in their own rite) are actually better together. More bass would be good, and maybe a little more cowbell... just sayin'.

PUT IT DOWN!

Yeah, yeah... so I'm 25. That doesn't mean this isn't one of the greatest songs ever written. Up there with "Won't Get Fooled Again," and "Bach's Suite for Solo Cello No. 1 in G Major, BWV 1007: I. Prélude". This song is amazing.

Luv in txt 4m.

My father was talking to my grandmother recently, and she was relaying a story form her childhood... a story my father had never heard. He said "Mom, you need to be writing these stories down so we have them forever."

"I can't," she said, "My typewriter broke in 1994."

Headdesk.

So, being the man my father is he bought his mother a typewriter... a typewriter that scares her because of "all its computer parts." It has an LCD screen that says if the caps lock is on. Wow.

Anyway, that isn't really the point of this post. The point is that when I sat down at this machine and stamped out a letter to my dad, so to demonstrate to my octogenarian grand-maternal relative that it was an easy device to use, I realized that there might not ever be another really good letter written.

It used to be that letter writing was one of the most romantic ways to express your feelings for someone. But today we have email, facebook, instant messenger, texting and twitter. My friend's dog recently passed away. This was a dog that I knew well, and loved as if he was my own pet. I found out hours after it happened because his sisters had messages about Duke on Facebook. That is lame. I found out the same way that one of my best friends in the world was engaged an hour before she called to tell me. SUPER lame.

Old people have great stories about writing letters to each other across the country, and getting letters from boyfriends in France during the war. What are we going to tell our grandchildren about how we met our spouses?

"Oh, your grandfather was so sweet. He used to post the funniest links on my wall, and always added an extra 'LOL' to let me know he thought it was funny, and that I should enjoy it. He also used to make me text him when i got home safe from his place. I text 'made it home. thnx 4 dinner!' and he'd respond with a heart-skipping 'g'nigt cutie. Colon, dash, closed parenthesis' and I'd send a flirtatious 'colon, dash, capitol P' with a 'u' and an 'r' and a 'g-r-8'. I wish i had saved those texts, but alas they are lost to the ether. Such is romance."

Headdesk.

Oregon Trail

So I recently realized that everything I learned about the Oregon Trail came directly from the computer game. Here are a few bullet points:

1. I know that you want to be either the Banker so you can buy tons of goods for the trip, or the Doctor, cause everyone is going to get Dysentery, or be bitten by a snake.

2. NEVER ford the river... all your freaking Oxen will die.

3. Hunting is awesome... but you will never be able to carry all the bison you shoot. You just won't.

4. There is no way you are reaching the end of the trail.

5. It is funny to name family members things like "Your Crotch" so that midway through the game/trail you get a message like "Your Crotch got Typhoid and died."

(Snicker)

That is about it. I cannot even tell you why people were fleeing to Oregon on what is almost certainly a doomed trek. No one ever beat the game. What were these people escaping? Were they being persecuted in Chicago for their wagons and deicided to head out into the wild west? I have news for you... if you walked like a mile west of Chicago you were in the Wild West. There was nothing out there. Why go all the way to Oregon? Just to get away from all the civilization?

Also... remember the Donner Party? The people who got lost and ended up eating each other to stay alive? I think what really happend is that they stopped at an Olive Garden halfway along their journey, but it was the dinner rush and they couldn't wait.

So when their name was finally called it was like "Donner, party of 10... Donner, party of 10... Donner, party of... 9? Donner party of... 8?"

hah. Cannibalism.

Bell-Bottom Jeans

Candy Bar

Dessert Island

Why Fall is Awesome and Summer is its Antipode

I don't like summer.

I know, i know... that sounds border-line un-American... right? I disagree. I love the fourth of July, and barbecues and blowing stuff up while yelling "'Merica!" I just don't like the season.

If you are wondering if there is a rule for weather that I find tolerable... yes. The weather has to be sweatshirt tolerant. That doesn't mean that you have to wear a sweatshirt... but I'm not really happy unless I at least have that as a reasonable option.

Now, there is certainly a time for hot weather. If I were to spend a month sailing the Chesapeake, I would be all about warm summer weather; but at the same time, is there any better beach scene than sitting on the sand with a fire and a cold one, while wearing a soft hoodie? Paint me a better summer picture than that... I dare you.

Beyond that, I cannot stand summer. It gets hot, and miserable. I can't sleep at night cause the heat is too oppressive. This summer it has been so warm that my A/C unit has been rendered nominally helpful at best. Gross. Who needs that?

Also, I'm basically nocturnal. I come alive around dusk. Yes, again there are great things to do in the daylight: an afternoon ballgame, hiking Laurel Mountain, playing Ultimate... and I've run out of stuff.

There is something about dusk that says to me "alright... time to get stuff done." I write more in the early morning, or late at night. I socialize more after dark. I'd rather star-gaze than sun-bathe any day. Comedy clubs open at night, and television during the day is a joke. (not that there has been a lot of intellectually challenging offerings on the tube since Sorkin thumbed his nose at NBC... rest in peace Studio 60.)

But enough ripping on summer. What I DO like is Fall.

Fall is this magical time of year. Workplaces pick up their business, there is more to do. Community, The Office and 3o Rock come back on NBC and The Big Bang Theory returns to CBS. Sweaters come out of the closet, and the weather allows us to wear those amazing hoodies bearing our Alma Mater's names. (Allegheny being the best, of course).

The leaves change. The days get gradually shorter and the air crisper. When you wake up from a deep sleep at 6am to relieve yourself, you don't stay up because its already 79 degrees with the A/C on. It makes it harder to get up and go to work, but that is how bed should be.

This is what I love about Western PA and Pittsburgh. Fall here is gorgeous, and growing up in the mountains to the east, the way I did, Fall becomes an integral part of your being. I honestly get depressed in the oppressive endless light and heat of summer, but when Fall begins to scent the air with notes of roasting vegetables, the unique aroma of abscission from the deciduous trees changing the color of their leaves and dropping them... and of course the smell of bonfires, and those make leaves burning in backyards.

Flavors are better in the fall too. There are spices in the air in every kitchen, and the harvest of fall brings all those crops that have just sat there worthlessly all summer growing slowly, building anticipation for stews, pies, pasta dishes and flavorful beverages.

When I think about the commencement of Autumn, I get excited inside, and wonder how on EARTH anyone could possibly enjoy summer. For me Summer serves one singular purpose: To give stark contrast to the perfection of Autumn, allowing us to appreciate the matchless excellence that is Fall.

Freshmen Year

I am the eldest of the three children in my family, and my the younger of my two sisters moved into college this morning. Talking with her this past week as she's been panicked about this very real and very significant change in her life got me thinking back to my freshmen year in college...

... and my roommate.

My roommate was an interesting character. I won't go into all the specific details of why, but he didn't last the full year. And I should add up front here that he and I were actually pretty close. We got along really well, and had a lot of good times. But he did strange things.

He was diagnosed with severe ADD... which meant that it was not uncommon for me to come back to the room to find the door open, the stereo on, the DVD player and TV on with a DVD menu annoyingly looping, all the lights on, the heat on with the window open (in January) and a not on the door from the upperclassmen neighbor asking us to turn everything down. I remember once there were also not one but two open jars of peanut butter out with everything else.

There was also "the closet" incident.

Our closet in Walker hall kinda stuck out into the room, and had these big oak doors on it. I was standing in the room one afternoon and both the doors to the closet were open, one along the wall, and the other was open to that i was looking right at the edge of it, hardly able to see any of it at all. I made the mistake of audibly observing "This room would seem a lot bigger if the closet didn't have doors. It would feel like the closet was part of the room." Then I left to take a walk into town for food or something.

Our room was at the end of the short hall on 1st Walker, and as I came up the stairs from Brooks, I remember seeing my towel at the end of the hall... hanging under my hoodies... still attached to the closet door, which now seemed to live in the hallway.

I walked into the room and my roommate who we'll just call "Chris" couldn't have been prouder. He looked at at me from his desk and beamed with pride. I'm actually relatively sure I saw his tail wag. "Look how big this place now! You were right!"

I was without words. The best part was the RD's response. It was something along the lines of "I don't think there is a written rule about this, but I'm pretty sure you are not allowed the disassemble the building... even if it your room." She said we had to put the doors back on and after close to a week I ended up having to do it. Awesome.

Nothing beats the story of the last weekend he was on campus. It was the weekend before Spring Break, and I hadn't seen him over a week. It was a Thursday night and I had an early class the next morning... something like 10, so I was in bed by 2ish. I fell asleep and after a little while I heard the roomie come in and crawl into bed.

When I woke up again it was to the sound of vomiting... and splashing... in sheets. I was grossed out, but didn't feel like climbing down out of my 7-foot bed loft. That is until I heard his head hit the pillow.

Now I'm NOT the ratting people out type, and even though I didn't consume alcohol before I was 21, i realized that this was college, and it was going to happen, and there was no need to judge. However, I was also aware of several rock legends who had died from drunken asphyxiation (i think that is a delicate enough way to put it) while they slept. I didn't really feel like having a dead roommate.

I climbed down and found that I couldn't wake him without almost vomiting as well, so I went and got the RA on duty who was a friend.

I'll never forget her conversation with him.

Ashley: Chris, get up. This is disgusting. You have to clean this up.
Chris (groggily): Clean what up. I'm fine.
Ashley: Chris you vomited all over your bed and now you're sleeping in it.
Chris: No... no. I don't think so.
Ashely: Then who threw up in your bed?
Chris: Maybe Zach? I dunno.

So he was alright sleeping in my vomit? Whatever. Our RA had come with Ashely and me, and he and I were doing all we could not to bust out laughing in the hallway at 3:30 in the morning.

Here is where it gets gross.

I woke up the next morning, and opened the closet to get my shower caddy out, and to my horror I found his balled up bedding on his side of the closet. Again, I almost ralphed. I immediately talked to the RD. And she said he had to get them out of there... durr.

So about a week later, I was down right below our room where there was this awkward little hallway between Brooks Dining Hall and the Groud floor of Walker Hall. I was at the vending machine down there, and I saw something behind the vending machine. After some careful and distant inspection I realized that this was Chris's bedding... barf filled, and now nicely baked from the heat coming off the back of the cold beverage machine. Epic. Gross. And so many more adjectives.

The strangest thing about all of this is that as i think about my little sister starting her freshmen year, I am exceedingly envious of her. I want so badly to be back at Allegheny, 18, lost, confused, not sure why there is a building called "Oddfellows", homesick, missing all my friends and my dog. I really really wish I was back there. It was such an amazing time. New friends, new town, new way of life, freedom, classes I actually cared about and no one suggesting that I "should really get some sleep."

I miss it, and if I could go back I absolutely would.

So Scooter, if you are reading this, know that your no roommate cannot possibly be more of a trip than mine. (And your roommate sounds cool anyway). And also know you are starting four years of incredible growth and fun. Enjoy it. Don't be nervous. A few years from now I'm betting you'll look back on this week and feel the same fond nostalgia I do.

kbyeloveyou.

Another Grandparent Post

So, my grandparents do this thing where they lock the screen door. What is that intended to accomplish? Seriously, who is that going to keep out? As if some crazy bandit is gonna come to the house in the middle of the day, and see the door open and go "Suh-weet... house is open!" Then he gets to the screen door, finds it locked and says "blast! they locked it, and I am incapable of penetrating this vault-like barrier!"

No... a bandit is gonna rip the screen and open the door. Seriously, who is that gonna keep out? I'll tell you who: Me! I'm on my way to visit them, check in on them to make sure they are doing alright, and I get to the locked screen door, and you know I'm not gonna rip the screen. It only keeps out the people who you want to come in the house.

The best part is that since they are both hard of hearing, I have rung the doorbell and heard the TV (Everybody Loves Raymond) on in the other room and heard this exchange.

Gpa: Did you hear something, Dolly?

Gma: You want a drink?

Gpa: No, do I need one?

Gma: How do I know?

Gma: Why isn't Ray answering the door?

Gpa: What?

Gma: The doorbell, why isn't anyone on this show answering it?

At this point I go around back to the sliding glass door on the room where they are sitting, and scare the crap out of them.

The hole in the Wall

So, I did it. I fought the good fight. I stood up to the man and said "no way... not gonna do it" (Dana Carvey as Bush 1.0). I moved into a new apartment and I didn't get cable, or any other TV service. I said, why do I need this? There is no reason for it. Sure, I may work full-time in the media and marketing business, and television is certainly a big part of that. And, yeah, I have a really nice TV that I very much enjoy. And yes, I love watching new movies and honing my craft and professional work through the intake of the works of others... But no! I don't need this cable. I don't need to be paying for television! I have an antenna! I can get all my local channels for FREE... over the AIR! Mad Men Style!

But I failed. I failed miserably.

From about September to May I working a lot... a lot a lot. I was hardly home, and when I did come home it was dark and there was prime time TV on the broadcast networks. And often I was so tired that I felt more like going to bed than watching TV.

But now it's summer. Combine a better understanding of our workflow at work, and less to do in these lazy months and I find myself with this strange free time. Add on top of that the fact that I live in a beautiful little town... a wonderful little place... where everyone is married with kids. I am not. This town isn't designed for people my age. Its designed for people with great jobs and dogs. I live here because it is quite, nice and 7 minutes from my office.

So, recently I have found myself itching to get television service installed. I have looked into every option, and I want DirecTV... oh MAN do I want DirecTV! FiOS isn't available to my apartment, and I maintain that Comcast is basically evil. However, I am not sure if I'm allowed to put a dish on the roof of the building. And so Comcast may be my only option! Evil little buggers.

But yeah. I tried to stand up to the establishment... I tried to save the money, and forgo paying for television service, but i just can't. The world doesn't work that way. For my own sanity, I've decided to give in.

Why Magic is the Correct Answer for Old People

I didn't realize how little I actually knew about technology until I lived with my grandparents. I actually have "technology" in my job title at work... even though I only know the tech stuff because I need it to produce the creative stuff that actually drives what I do.

But, yeah... it wasn't until living with two octogenarians that I realized how little I understood myself. These poor people are so scared of technology, that they actually refer to it as magic. After learning that my iPhone wasn't a "Blackberry" they try a different berry every time they reference it "get out your magic blueberry and look up... " or "can your Brambleberry tell us if..." and even "what time is it on your raspberry?". HonesT. That has happened.

They have more questions about technology than a 2 year old who has just learned the word "why" and is using it to simulate conversational patterns of turn taking speech. I realized i didn't know a lot when they started to ask questions and my answer was always followed with "why?".

The other day was a perfect example. The router that splits the cable line into TV, Internet and Phone runs internet to my personal wireless router so I have wifi all over the house. The router stopped working correctly, so i went upstairs to unplug it, blow on it, and plug it back in (a fix i learned early on with Nintendo Cartridges).

My Grandfather was very concerned that I had to unplug the wireless.

"Why did that light go off on the Comcast router?"

"Because I unplugged the wireless line, and it stopped drawing signal."

"That's what happens when the phone stops working... that light goes out."

"Your phone is fine that is a different light"

"I don't believe you. Unplug that thingy again"

I do, and he checks to see if the phone still works.

"Well, the phone still works."

"very good"

"wait, don't leave... why did you unplug that thingy in the first place"

"because it stopped working and i wasn't getting internet."

"why?"

"because the signal wasn't being sent to my computer correctly."

"why?"

"I dunno."

"Why did unplugging it fix it?"

"magic."

And honestly, in his defense... why would the wireless router just stop sending the right signal? It has one job... make electronic internet signal into magic fairy waves that connect my computer to the world wide interweb. My computer, and my Huckleberry.