Gender: Male
Status: Engaged
Age: 34
Sign: Gemini
State: Oklahoma
Country: US
Signup Date: 10/2/2005
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November 24, 2009 - Tuesday
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1: Canadians have strange-lookin' money: The bills in Canada are multi-colored, and not just with the slight tint tens and twenties have in the States. There's a solid, separate color for each bill; bright blue for the fives, purple for the tens, sharp green for the twenties, etc. Also, there are no one-dollar bills in Canada. Instead, there's a gold one-dollar coin called a Loonie (so named because there's a loon on the coin) and a gold-and-silver two-dollar coin called a Twoonie (because... well, it's worth two bucks, it came along after the Loonie, and it rhymes.). 2: There are maple leaves on all of the McDonald's signs. This probably stands out to me because McDonald's signs are so prevalent everywhere in the world, so you're used to seeing them with a specific, identical look. But on every McDonald's sign and in every McDonald's TV commercial in Canada, there's a small red maple leaf slapped onto the Golden Arches. 3: Everyone recycles: Well, probably not everyone, but certainly more than I'm used to seeing. I confess that I was a lazy, shiftless, no good non-recycler in the States, mostly because doing so would have required me to collect all of my recyclables and take them to a recycling center myself each week. Here, each resident has a Blue Bin they dump recyclable materials in and set on the curb with their garbage at the end of the week. There's also a Green Bin for organic materials (such as our week-old Halloween pumpkins). Maybe there was something similar in residential Tulsa areas (and I also lived in an apartment, where I had no curbside garbage pick-up, only a communal dumpster), but I don't remember seeing any sort of recycling pick up in Claremore. 4: At the risk of bringing up with hot-button political issues, Canadians seem to really love their Evil Socialist Health Care System: The idea of paying for basic, essential health care is completely foreign, and the availability of health care for every citizen seems to be thought of as a fundamental right, possibly even a moral responsibility. I've had a few people ask about the American health care system (which I never had any problems with myself), and even the fact that I was required to pay a 25-dollar co-pay anytime I stepped into my doctors office results in puzzled looks. On the other side of the coin, emergency room visits here can have a certain luck-of-the-draw quality depending on how crowded the waiting room is at the time and the severity of your problem. Our neighbor recently had a workplace accident resulting in a deeply-sliced index finger, and she wound up sitting in the waiting room for almost 5 hours. 5: Canadians have weird Corn Pops: I have no explanation for this, but Corn Pops, instead of having the glossy, sorta-corn-shaped look I'm assuming everyone is familiar with, are instead non-glossy, smaller, and perfectly round. They look exactly like Kix cereal to me. It's like Corn Pops in the Twilight Zone or something. 6: Canadians also have weird potato chip flavors: Popular potato chip flavors in Canada include Ketchup (which taste, well, kinda ketchup-y), Roast Chicken, Sour Cream and Dill, Smokey Bacon, and a few others. Ketchup seems to be the one that usually stands out, though. 7: Tim Hortons restaurants are everywhere in Canada: Tim Hortons is a donut/coffee/tea/sandwich chain, and they're everywhere. It's like McDonald's in the states; wherever you are, you're never far from one. I have a severe weakness for their tea (hot tea, with sugar and milk) and TimBits (assorted donut holes). Quick tip for simulating Tim Hortons tea while trapped in Oklahoma or some other Tim Hortons-less location: Buy a box of Red Rose tea bags at your local grocery store. It's a black tea, and the actual flavor is Orange Pekoe, or something. English Breakfast Tea is also very close and will do in a pinch. Find the largest coffee/tea mug you can, make the tea, let it steep for 5 minutes or so, add two generous spoonfuls of sugar and a splash of milk. It's delightful. 8: The squirrels in Canada are multi-colored: I'm used to the standard Oklahoma squirrel, sort of a reddish, rusty brown. Here, squirrels come in several colors; brown, gray and, my personal favorite, a deep, dark black. 9: Smarties are not Smarties in Canada: Everyone got Smarties for Halloween when they were kids, right? The small fruity, chalky candy disks in a cellophane wrapper? Those are called Rockets in Canada. Canadians have Smarties, but instead of actually being Smarties, Canadian Smarties are essentially slightly thinner M&Ms. 10: Canadians do say "Eh" quite a bit, but don't really have the stereotypical Canadian accent: I hear people say "Eh" all the time, but there's not really an accent in southern Ontario, aside from a very slight inflection on words like "out" and "about". But definitely not so much that it comes across as "Oot" and "Aboot". I've never heard anyone call someone a Hoser. Even the Eh's aren't all that frequent, they're just the most noticeable. Basically, anytime someone back home would say "huh" or "right", that would be an Eh here. "Great movie, huh?" would be "Great movie, eh?". "I know, right?!?" would be "I know, eh?!?" 11: Canadians are just as rude as Americans, maybe even more so: In the few months I've lived here and the many times I've visited, I've run across plenty of rude clerks, grumpy cashiers, snarky salespeople, angry drivers, and generally unpleasant people. I've run across plenty of polite, pleasant people as well, but the ratio between polite/rude people seems to be about the same as you'd expect to find in the U.S. The impression Americans sometimes have of Canadians being unfailingly polite at all times is a total myth. 12: Canada has actual seasons: The most common question I heard before I moved was how I'd be able to stand the constant cold in Canada. Canada has seasonal weather just like the States. I'm living in Southern Ontario, which is actually further South than some parts of the U.S. I moved here in August, and it was shorts-and-flip-flops weather. It's currently mid-November, it hasn't snowed once, and it's still warm enough to get by with only a light jacket. Granted, next month the switch will flip and I'll be freezing cold and dreading all the snow that's probably on the way over the next few months, but the weather here is usually identical to the weather back home, only the summers are slightly less hot and there's a two or three month stretch in Winter where it's considerably colder. But for now, it's much warmer here at the moment than it is in the Colorado town where I lived for a few years. 13: Milk in Ontario comes in plastic bags: Here's the one that throws most people. Milk here is sold in plastic sleeves, like the one pictured here: They're sold in sets of three, like the bag pictured here: Then they're stored in the fridge in a plastic container like the one pictured here: You pull a sleeve from the bottom of the container, place the sleeve in a sleeve-sized milk pitcher, slam the pitcher on the counter so the sleeve settles snugly, then snip the top corner of the sleeve with a pair of scissors, so the entire thing ends up like this: This takes some getting used to, but it's not that bad. I think it would be ideal if you had kids, since you wouldn't have to worry about a 5 or 6 year old wrestling with a full gallon of milk. Changing the bags out every couple of days can be a little annoying, though. And it really limits your "drinking straight from the jug" options. 14: The speed limits are slower in Canada: I'm still not used to the speed limits as it is, since everything is in kilometers, but the highest speed limit I've seen seems to be 100 km per hour, which is roughly 60 miles per hour. And that's on a 3 or 4 lane highway, where I'd expect the speed limit to be 65-70 miles per hour, which means I'd more than likely be going 70-75 miles per hour. I foresee at least a couple of speeding tickets in my future. Fortunately, no one seems to actually abide by the set speed limits. So maybe I'm good. 15: French is on everything. And not in the relatively unobtrusive way Spanish is on lots of stuff in the Southern U.S. All products usually have a French equivelent with equal billing front-and-center. My Froot Loops this morning not only assured me that they had the "same great taste!" but also "meme bon gout!" This doesn't bother me at all, except when it comes to DVDs. I'm a low-level movie geek, and I adore my DVDs. I know it's trivial, but I like a DVD with an eye-grabbing cover that you can tell someone put some real effort into. Something with a little artistic flair to it, instead of a slap-dash photoshop with a bunch of floating heads or something. So, given that I'm already a little anal when it comes to DVDs, if I were to buy, say, Ghostbusters on Blu-Ray, you can understand why I'd prefer it not look like this: Who ya gonna call? S.O.S. Fantomes, apparently.
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July 29, 2009 - Wednesday
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So... I'm moving away next week. Fortunately, it's for a very good reason and I'm ridiculously excited about it. I'm not usually a leap-of-faith kind of guy, but this is the sort of instance where being 60 and wondering "what if I'd taken that shot? How would things have worked out?" sounds like the most horrible thing imaginable, so it's been in the works for a while. On the other hand, I'm also kind of stable to a fault. I don't really do change and I can be a little risk averse, and now I'm faced with the reality of being unemployed for a while, living hundreds of miles away from my friends and family, in a strange, new city. A city that does not have a Sonic Drive-In. Therefore, I've been a little bi-polar the last couple of months, alternately excited and giddy one day and sobbing quietly in a corner the next. Metaphorically speaking, of course. There's been no actual sobbing in a corner or anything. There's been a lot of packing things into boxes, though. How I managed to cram so much junk into one dinky apartment is beyond me. I'm being fairly ruthless and tossing out a lot of stuff, but I'm also actively packing boxes that I know for a fact will never be unpacked after the move. And I really can't justify that behavior at all. If you're not the kind of person who immediately understands why I'd need to hold on to a top-loading circa-1980 VCR then there's no way I'd be able to explain it to you. Anyway, it's getting down to the wire, and I'm staving off panic. Will Kelly be able to finish packing before the moving van arrives? Will he be able to find another library job? What will he do if his next batch of coworkers are capable of clearing their own paper jams and rebooting their own computers? Will those coworkers refuse to wear anything other than white tube socks regardless of dress attire? Will they refuse to wear socks at all? Will they wear socks with little turkeys all over them despite the fact that Thanksgiving is at least six months away? Will he be forced to upgrade his current "clean pile/dirty pile" laundry system into something a little more coherent? Will he gain hundreds of pounds due to living within walking distance of several Tim Horton's? Will he be found frozen to his driveway, his stiff, icy-blue fingers still clutching a snow shovel, sometime in mid-January of 2010? Who the hell knows. But I'll try to keep you posted. And if you've bothered to read this... odds are I'm really going to miss you. But it's not like it's the 1800s and I'm entirely dependent on handwritten letters or anything. Along with Facebook/Myspace, I'm on MSN (Windows Live) Messenger as zerokel2020@hotmail.com. I'm on Yahoo Messenger as k_ewing@sbcglobal.net (although that one may not be active after I cancel my current internet service), and I'm on Skype as kelly-ewing. If I'm not currently on your list, feel free to add me. Actually, please do. I'm determined to keep in touch despite the distance. In this day and age, if we can't actually hang out, at least we can video-conference. Take care, everybody.
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May 23, 2009 - Saturday
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A visual representation of Kelly's emotional state re: turning thirty-four this morning:  Well okay, maybe not that bad. But still! Thirty-four? What the hell!!
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April 30, 2009 - Thursday
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Better Than Ezra, which is, like, the best band ever *, has an upcoming Tulsa date on June 2nd at The Flytrap Music Hall. Which is awesome news, since we were viciously cheated a year or so ago, when the previous Tulsa date was cancelled at the last minute, an event which, understandably, totally bummed me out.
And it's about time, too! I haven't managed to catch Better Than Ezra live in two or three years, which is completely unacceptable. The band's new album, Paper Empire, hits stores on May 12th. But wait! There's More!! Pre-order from the Better Than Ezra website and an autographed copy of Paper Empire will be shipped to your door the day you place the order. I just placed mine this very minute, brazenly ignoring the fact that I should really be concentrating on more productive things, like working.
Sooo, that's an upcoming, local Better Than Ezra show and an advanced, autographed copy of the new Better Than Ezra album.
...None of you care, right? Buncha philistines, I swear to God.
Anyway! They're a good group of guys and they usually put on a great show, so there are definitely worse ways to spend a Tuesday evening.
...I just realized I've publicly stated exactly where I will be and exactly what I will be doing on the evening of June 2nd, 2009. ...Please don't stalk me, crazy stalker-type people. 'Kay? Thanks.
* Please ignore the fact that Better Than Ezra hasn't actually had a major hit since sometime in the late 90s.
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March 25, 2009 - Wednesday
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So I'm sitting in the Cincinnati airport right now, having spent my Spring Break as an international man of intrigue and mystery, and I'm on a four-hour layover. Four hours. Whaaaat the hell. I'll officially be spending more time sitting at this one airport terminal than I will in the air during two separate flights.
And while I'm bitching, when the hell am I going to break down and buy a laptop? 2009, and I'm writing this thing out longhand in a notebook like some sort of relic from the stone age. I'm pretty sure people are staring at me as I sit here scribbling in my spiral-bound, college ruled Mead 5-Star.
Anyway, the psychological conundrum.
Actually, wait! I just watched a guy attempt to give away a Cherry Coke he'd purchased from a vending machine before noticing that the vending machine also offered Dr. Pepper, which he preferred, leaving him with an unwanted, unopened Cherry Coke. He made it through at least 20 people, explaining in detail to each person the entire Cherry Coke/Dr. Pepper mishap, before he finally found a taker. Most people seemed to stare at the Cherry Coke as though it were about to explode or sprout tentacles and suck out their eyeballs. Hahahaha, man, that cracked me up. I blame these constant announcements reminding everyone that the current threat advisory level is "Orange", myself.
Anyway, the psychological conundrum.
Okay, so I was starving when I landed, and I bought a sub at the airport Quizno's, because Quizno's is awesome, and the cruel hand of fate recently closed the Quizno's located less than a mile from my apartment.
The sub and Coke came to $9.52. I paid with a $20.
The cashier handed me two $10s and 48 cents in change.
So what did I do when I noticed the extra 10-dollar bill? I returned it to the cashier.
Who the hell does that?!? Am I just that much of a nice guy? I didn't even really think about it until after I'd told Quizno's Guy that he'd given me too much money and handed the extra bill back to his rather shocked self. I was also kind of exhausted (having ignored my 6:30 a.m. wake-up call and stayed up until 1:00 in the morning watching Inner Space in my hotel room, mostly because I wanted to see Jack Putter digest the creepy, miniaturized bad guy with stomach acid at the end), so I'm assuming that was just my natural reaction on a subconscious level.
And y'know what? That sucks. I don't want to be a nice guy. Because nice guys are doomed. Doooooomed. I was essentially being paid 48 cents to enjoy a tasty toasted sub and ice-cold Coca-Cola, but refused, because the cash drawer of some guy from Cincinnati who I don't even know and who I will never see again in my life would be 10 bucks off at the end of his shift. Madness. Madness, I tell you.
I'm thinking maybe it's little unconscious moments like these that reveal your true, innermost nature. And apparently, my true, innermost nature is "Schmuck".
Fortunately, I also solved a Rubik's Cube at 30,000 feet today. So it's not like I can be accused of being "uncool" or anything on top of everything else. Right?
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February 11, 2009 - Wednesday
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Cross-posted from Facebook, just for kicks... --------------------------------------------------------------------------- 25 things
1: I'm posting this "25 random things" list based solely on the fact that I keep getting tagged when other people do it, and I'm beginning to feel that I'm maybe tempting fate or something by ignoring it.
2: I was on the Bozo the Clown show at age 5. I don't remember much about it, other than being selected from the group of kids to participate in a game where you had to bounce a balloon into a big, multi-colored barrel without using your hands, at which I failed spectacularly but was still awarded a Bozo the Clown Wonderbread poster. I also remember being disappointed that when Bozo pointed at the camera and announced that cartoons were coming up, no cartoons were actually shown in the studio. He just paused for a second and then went right along with the show, as though we'd all just seen them. Total ripoff.
3: I'm left-handed.
4: My favorite color is blue.
5: I have one sibling: My sister Lisa, who lives in Portland, Oregon.
6: I haven't been stung in ages, but as a far as I know I'm still allergic to wasp stings. I was stung on my face one evening when I was 8 or 9, and when I strolled into breakfast the next morning my parents promptly flipped out because, unbeknownst to me, my face had swollen to Martin-Lawrence-in-Big-Mama's-House proportions overnight. 7: It's a slow day at work, and although It LOOKS like I'm working, I'm ACTUALLY reading an e-book copy of Stephen King's "IT" that I downloaded.
8: I once totally cheated on a Sociology exam in college, after being handed a test I knew nothing about and was completely unprepared for thanks to having skipped the two previous classes that week. When the instructor left for a smoke break, I bolted for the door, exam in hand, sneaked out a back exit, called in sick from an off-campus location, used the test as a study guide, and took a make-up exam the following Friday under the same instructor, who apparently never realized I was actually in class on the day of the original exam. I'll take "Being Completely Unmemorable" for 800, Alex.
9: I can juggle, but I'm kind of rusty, so it's best not to try it with anything breakable.
10: From grades 7-12, I attended 4 different schools.
11: During a fit of cabin fever while being iced in for a few days recently, I rearranged my bedroom and flipped my bed to the opposite side of the room. For the last couple of weeks, I've rolled over whenever my alarm goes off and groped groggily along the wall instead of the bedside table, since everything now seems backwards to me at 6:30 a.m.
12: Thanks to Michael Phelps, I had to explain to my 58 year old mother not only what a bong was but also how one functions, while simultaneously assuring her that my knowledge on the subject was strictly theoretical.
13: I don't understand the appeal of Twitter and think it may be one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard of in my life.
14: Due to the possibility of severe weather tonight, I was given a copy of the university's Severe Weather Guidelines, which includes this helpful tip under Lightning Safety: "Drop metal backpacks".
15: The last ridiculously funny book I read was "Apathy and Other Small Victories", by Paul Neilan.
16: I know way, WAY too much about Spider-Man.
17: Despite having no interest whatsoever in high school football, I'm completely hooked on the show Friday Night Lights. I'm 14 episodes into Season 1 via Netflix, and it's awesome.
18: I can solve 3x3 and 4x4 Rubik's Cubes in a handful of minutes. Which is less impressive than it sounds, at least in this age of in-the-package tip booklets and Youtube videos.
19: I was an extra in a direct-to-video movie co-starring Gary Busey, which I have not seen but which is by all accounts pretty horrible. Also, Gary Busey is every bit as insane in person as he appears to be on TV.
20: I have a blog I post to occasionally, but I have a long-standing rule against posting anything overly personal. If you ever catch me posting awful poetry or rants about ex-girlfriends, you'll know the end is nigh. I do tend to write about my job and/or coworkers pretty frequently though, but names and dates are usually changed to protect the innocent.
21: My favorite band is Better Than Ezra. The drummer just left the group, which is kind of bumming me out. If he's still touring with Sugarland, I'd probably be tempted to catch a show just to see him play, despite not liking country music much at all, which seems kind of strange.
22: I don't like coffee, but I'm completely addicted to hot tea with sugar and milk. We could really use a Tim Horton's around here, dammit.
23: I kind of wanted to catch Clerks when Circle Cinema ran it as a midnight movie last month, but doubted my ability to stay awake until two in the morning for a movie I've seen a dozen times.
24: When I moved out of my college dorm, I wrote "Kelly Ewing lived here - Aug. 96 - Dec. 99" inside one of the closets.
25: The dates in #24 make me feel ooooooold.
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January 31, 2009 - Saturday
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Here's the back of a postcard announcement for a fundraiser I received through campus mail this morning, from the university where I've worked for over 8 years. Ah yes, the Denim and Diamonds Scholarship Auction. Who wouldn't want to go to that? The buffet has "bling", for God's sake. And the beverages are sparkling. I'm not quite sure how an auction can be both brilliant and silent at the same time, though. Or just brilliant in the first place, really.
Here's a closer look...
Good old RSU. Yep, that's where I work alright. That's a hell of a logo, too. Very sharp. And Postage Paid! That's when you know you've hit the big time. And there's my name! I...  Hey... HEY!!! Okay. This gender-neutral name nonsense has officially gotten completely out of hand. I love them to pieces, but I think my parents should shoulder most of the blame here. They've assured me that Kelly was a very common boys name in the mid-70s, but I'm not sure I buy that. Common or not, the phrase "Kelly's a girl's name!" had been run completely into the ground by, oh, second grade or so. I definitely feel the pain of all the male Courtneys, Ashleys, Leslies and Shannons out there who no doubt had to muddle through that particular elementary school nightmare with me. Way to go, mom and dad. I could have been named after the Six-Million-Dollar Man or something, but noooo... Anyway, I'm thinking a name change might be in order, and I'm open to suggestions. Here's what I've come up with so far this afternoon: Conan. That's it. No last name, just ditch that altogether. (Granted, this could cause an entirely new set of problems, particularly once someone figures out that whole "Conan the Librarian" thing.)
Ford McBudweiser. Max Power. ("You don't cuddle with Max Power! You strap yourself in and feel the G's!")
Chuck Steak. "A man's name!" (Thank you, Mr. Carlin.)
Roc Ingersol Lance Hardwood I'm kind of out of ideas after that. Although, I could always just follow the Six-Million-Dollar-Man formula and pick a solid guy name at random, followed by a Texas city (Steve Austin, Joe Dallas, Buck Houston...). Bonus points if I can work in references to football, Nascar, cigars, beer, 80s action movies, or other appropriately masculine, guy-centric stuff. Anyone have anything better? I suppose anything would do really, as long as it keeps my own employer from mixing up my gender on inter-office correspondence. Seriously, I thought it couldn't get any worse than the letter I got from the Army Recruitment Center just after my 18th birthday, which assured me that there were in fact a wide variety of career options for women in the armed forces. But this is definitely a new low.
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September 9, 2008 - Tuesday
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Here are two things I saw/read this week, both of which made my blood run a little cold:
"The people you work with are people you were just throw together with. You know, you don't know them, it wasn't your choice, and yet you spend more time with them than you do your friends or your family. But probably all you've got in common is the fact that you walk around on the same bit of carpet for 8 hours a day." - Tim Canterbury, "The Office" (BBC)
And:
"Might it be true, as we sometimes feared on the commute home, that we were callous, unfeeling individuals, incapable of sympathy, and full of spite toward people for no reason other than their proximity and familiarity? We had these sudden revelations that employment, the daily nine-to-five, was driving us far from our better selves. Should we quit? Would that solve it? Or were those qualities innate, dooming us to nastiness and paucity of spirit? We hoped not." - Joshua Ferris, "Then We Came to the End"
At the risk of editorializing too much, that last one had me on the verge of throwing the book to the ground, stomping on it a couple of times, and fleeing the bookstore with a high-pitched, girlish scream.
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July 21, 2008 - Monday
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Spaced, a great little British sitcom, finally hits DVD here in the States tomorrow. Sometime last year, I'd kicked around the idea of going so far as to buy a region-free DVD player and importing the British version of the DVD, so I definitely have to give the U.S. release a rather enthusiastic thumbs up. If you've never heard of the show, it's by the same group of people responsible for the movies Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz. If you've seen and enjoyed either of those, particularly Shaun of the Dead, you should give Spaced a look. There's a lot of heart and soul behind it, and the cast of characters, while being uniformly geeky and pop-culture obsessed, don't really devolve into simple stereotypes or overblown caricatures. Anyway, here's an overview of the show. If you like it, check it out. Or y'know, come over and watch it at my place. I'm probably bored anyway. And I have popcorn.
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July 12, 2008 - Saturday
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 Take that, Rubik's 4x4!! Okay, I think I've got this down, for the most part, although there's this horrible, horrible thing called "parity" that's still triping me up from time to time right at the end. Aside from that, it's really not too bad. And as an added bonus, you're still doing everything you'd need to do to solve the regular 3x3, so there's no chance I'll forget how to solve the original by spending too much time on the 4x4. Anyway! On to the Rubik's 5x5!! I'm kidding. No one is allowed to buy me a Rubik's 5x5. Ever . I mean it. Eeeever.
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July 7, 2008 - Monday
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Yep. Over the holiday weekend, bored with the regular 3x3 Rubik's Cube, I purchased a larger, significantly more difficult 4x4 Rubik's Cube. I'll be back once I regain consciousness in a day or two.
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June 14, 2008 - Saturday
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David Sedaris, a remarkably talented author and all around funny guy, will be holding a book signing Friday, June 20th at the Barnes and Noble on 41st and Yale. Where will I be on the afternoon of June 20th? Way, way out of town. Dammit. This will be the second time I've missed Mr. Sedaris. He was in Tulsa a year and a half ago for a reading at the Tulsa Performing Arts Center. That same week, I was once again way, way out of town. It's like a conspiracy or something. Anyway, if you have nothing else to do that afternoon, there are certainly worse ways to spend your time. Mr. Sedaris's new book is called When You Are Engulfed In Flames. I haven't had a chance to read it yet, but the title alone cracks me up. All of his earlier books are top-notch as well, and you really can't go wrong with any of them. If nothing else, you can take lots of pictures and tell me how amazing the signing was so I'll feel even worse for missing it.
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June 3, 2008 - Tuesday
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Flying home post-vacation, I once again find myself stranded overnight in a strange city due to flight delays. That's the second time this has happened to me. Damn you, Continental Airlines! Well okay, I'm actually stranded due to a weather delay, so I can't really blame the airline. But whatever. Anyway, I am now stuck in Buffalo, New York until 7:08 tomorrow morning, so I'm blowing off steam by chronicling the experience for you fine people on Days Inn Stationary, which assures me that Days Inn is "The Best Value Under The Sun", a position I take issue with as I'm still paying 90 bucks for the room even after a "distressed passenger" discount. Also, I only have half a stationary pad, which may or may not be sufficient. Regardless, I'm taking the entire pad with me when I leave. I have two "maintenance request" forms I can use as backup. Probably taking those as well. And if all else fails I have 1.5 rolls of toilet paper. I haven't decided if I'm taking those yet or not. So! 6:30 p.m. - Step one: turn on every single light and burn as much electricity as possible. Step 2: Check the TV. Hey, Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest and Spider-Man are both on. At least the night's not a total wash. I don't have cable at home, since I'd never get anything done, so I have to enjoy it while I can. 6:45 p.m. - Keira Knightly is really hot. Much hotter than Kirsten Dunst. 7:00 p.m. - I'm close enough to the airport that I can hear the planes taking off. Enjoy your non-canceled flights, you lucky bastards. I hate you all. 7:15 p.m. - I'm leaving the room in search of booze and/or Skittles. 7:25 p.m. - Hotel Booze? Stupidly expensive. My kingdom for a few Rum & Cokes. Also, no Skittles in the vending machine, so I'm forced to settle for Chewy Sprees, which is decidedly a step down. 7:30 p.m. - Hey! Channel 29 is playing Superman Returns. I'm awash in super-heroic movies. Although, I own all of these flicks on DVD, so it sort of lessens the appeal. 7:40 p.m. - Superman is trying to stop a crippled plane from plummeting to the ground. I'll bet every single passenger on board wishes their flight had been canceled and they were stranded at a Days Inn watching movies and eating chewy Sprees. 7:55 p.m. - You know what the Day's Inn in Buffalo has? An indoor pool and jacuzzi. And since I'm not stranded mid-flight this time around I still have access to my luggage, which includes a pair of swim trunks. Awesome. I think I'll change, grab my copy of The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao and see if I can soak away some frustration. 9:00 p.m. - So I make my way to the pool room, unlock it with my hotel key card, and feel the stress sloooowly ooze from my body as I soak in the jacuzzi. Maybe being stranded in Buffalo isn't all that bad after all. I then get out of the jacuzzi only to discover that I've lost my key card. Over the next 20 minutes I search everywhere, including but not limited to each of 15 deck chairs (despite the fact that I only actually sat in two of them), my bag and everything in it (multiple times), my towel, my shoes, the side pockets of my trunks, the bottom of the pool and jacuzzi (do key cards float or sink? Who the hell knows.), every inch of concrete surrounding the pool and jacuzzi, the tile entrance hall to the pool area, the trash can and finally the jacuzzi filter, having first removed the filter cover adjacent to the jacuzzi itself. Defeated, I sheepishly make my way to the front desk to confess to the desk clerk that, although I clearly had my key card when I unlocked the pool room, it has unfortunately been sucked into the Twilight Zone and I am unable to retrieve it despite my best efforts. The magnetic code to my room key is deleted and I am issued a new one, something that, judging from the desk clerk's demeanor and the huge stack of blank cards available, must happen constantly. I then return to my room and change out of my trunks, which is when I find a soaking wet paper sleeve with my original room key safely tucked inside it in the front pocket of said trunks, a pocket I didn't even realize existed but which I'd obviously used subconsciously out of sheer force of habit after opening the pool room door. Daaaaaammit. And I swear I'd practically frisked myself while scouring the pool room, so what the hell, man? I am officially more stressed now than I was before I started. 9:30 p.m. - Consoling myself with the half a box of Tim Horton's TimBits I'd tucked inside my carry-on bag this morning. TimBits make everything better. 9:32 p.m. - Phone call from a cute Canadian who's checking on my well-being! Too sweet. Goes well with the TimBits, too. 9:45 p.m. - Behind the Scenes preview for Kung Fu Panda, a movie I was completely unaware of and would usually have no interest in but which looks surprisingly fun. I'm embarrassed to admit I'll probably see this when it hits DVD. 10:30 p.m. - Tulsa was just featured on CNN. Huge storms this morning and afternoon, lots of wind damage, broken windows, downed power lines and damaged trees, etc. Well, there's my weather delay right there, apparently. 10:55 p.m. - Also according to CNN, President Bush "chest bumped" an Air Force Academy cadet at a graduation speaking engagement. Huh. The leader of the free world, ladies and gentlemen. 11:00 p.m. - Okay, bed. Gotta be up in six hours to catch the shuttle to the airport. 6:20 a.m. - I'm sitting at the airport after waiting in the hotel lobby for the airport shuttle for 15 minutes with two pilots and two stewardesses, one of whom immediately shouted "Oh mah gawd, ya'll! Mah I.D.! I don't have mah I.D.! We gotta go back!", just as we pulled onto the road to the terminal. Soooo, back we go to hunt for the missing I.D. The shuttle driver, who I hope was tipped handsomely, raced to the room to hunt for the I.D. The I.D. located in record time, we again left for the airport. All told, I'm pretty certain I could have lugged my bags across the expressway and through the parking lot and still have beaten the shuttle here. Throw in the baggage check attendant who doesn't seem to understand that 6:00 in the morning the day after I'm supposed to be home is way too early to be making what I assume she feels are friendly, amiable jokes at my expense, and suddenly "threatening comments or gestures at the airport will get you arrested, threatening comments or gestures at the airport will get you arrested" has officially become my new mantra. 6:45 a.m. - Actually seated on the plane. I remain skeptical until we're physically in the air. 8:15 a.m. - Cleveland! On time and everything! Clearly my air travel troubles are behind me and it will be smooth sailing from here on out. He said, with uncharacteristic, possibly naive, optimism. 8:25 a.m. - Everyone and everything at the Cleveland airport is depressingly normal. What gives? There's absolutely nothing to riff on here. I just paid $2.09 for a single bottle of Coke. That's probably the most interesting thing that will happen during this layover. 9:10 a.m. - Midair, somewhere over the Midwest. Ridiculous amount of turbulence. I'd probably fear for my life if I weren't so exhausted. 10:30 - Aaaaaaand home. The flight even arrived a little early. Good to see you again, Tulsa. Well, kind of. Y'know, I'm the very definition of a nervous flier, but between constant delays, lost luggage and canceled flights that leave me stranded who knows where at a moments notice, I'm really beginning to fear all that stuff much more than I fear dying in a huge fireball on the runway during takeoffs and landings. Anyway, that's that. I have another couple of flights in two weeks or so. If I wind up stranded overnight in Salt Lake City or something, maybe I'll do another one of these to pass the time. Provided the hotel has complimentary stationary, I guess. 
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May 22, 2008 - Thursday
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I know I'm jumping the gun a bit on this one, but I turn 33 tomorrow. Good God. Honestly, the advancing-age thing isn't getting to me quite as much this time around. I'm leaving for a week of vacation in, oh, half an hour or so, which may be taking the edge off the birthday blues just a bit. Tomorrow may be a different story, but for now 33 doesn't seem all that bad. And it's a very neatly symmetrical number, which is kind of nice. For the record though, here's the movie-based fact that's freaking me out a little this year: Bruce Willis was 32 years old when he made Die Hard. 32. That means John McClane was younger than me when he tied a fire hose around his waist and jumped off the roof of an exploding Nakatomi building. I think I'm still younger than Hans Gruber, though. So at least there's that.
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February 26, 2008 - Tuesday
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I've had absolutely nothing interesting happen in months, which is why my blog output, which tends to progress at what would best be described as a slow crawl in the first place, has now ground to a complete halt. No one has kissed my car windows in the dead of night. No one has called me a dick for refusing to take a one-year-old kid along for an R-rated movie on opening weekend. I haven't been stranded overnight at any major international airports. I haven't auditioned to be a contestant on any nationally-syndicated game shows. I haven't taken a single Caribbean vacation. And absolutely no one has tried to use a student computer as a pooper-scooper. What I have done is work 8 to 5, Monday through Friday, with the occasional evening and weekend shift thrown in, at a library. A library. And I live in a tiny little suburb in the Midwest. As such, the highlights of any average recent week have consisted largely of a mix of sitcom re-runs, books, popcorn, movie rentals and the occasional video game. Sometimes all five, if I'm feelin' cuh-RAY-zee that particular week. If you can do something with that, you're a better writer than I am. Which, admittedly, wouldn't be all that difficult to do. At any rate, I'm still alive, so there's no need to worry. I've just become horrifically boring. Suggestions for exciting yet dangerous extracurricular activities (shark diving, base/bungee jumping, rock climbing, paranormal investigations, snake handling, etc.) or interesting yet destructive vices (drunken benders, chain smoking, excessive gambling, petty larceny, Scientology, porn and/or strippers, exotic foods which are delicious yet potentially fatal or at least horribly bad for me, etc.) would be very much appreciated.
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