Vengence!

Ever since my computer got wrecked by an unimaginably nasty virus last summer, I've had dreams of kicking in the doors of the nasty buggers who do spam, viruses and spyware and beating them silly. So kudos to the Spanish police, who caught a really big fish.

Beatings for all of them

Crash Averse

My enjoyment of Olympic-level crashing has taken a precipitous drop recently. It used to be, some Swedish skier or German luger or French ice skater would face plant, and I would just crack up. Someone’s lifetime of work would go up in a puff of snow and I would have myself a laugh.

But these days I just can’t get into the crashing. I avert my eyes. I cry out in fear. People I shouldn’t care about, like a Finnish snowboarder or some male figure skater dressed like a peacock go down and I’m not having any fun at all. Sure, you’re supposed get upset when American golden girl Lindsey Vonn crashes out of the super combine but even strangers from strange countries crashing are making me feel bad.

Part of this is clearly the death of Georgian luger. Nothing like death to take all the fun out of crashing. But I’m also hoping this is sign I’m becoming a better person. Personal growth from the comfort of your couch!

Lights on the Roof Day!

This is me today:

No More Saturn

Saturn is coming to an end, part of the larger carpocalypse sweeping the nation. I'm getting a bit nostalgic. My 95 Saturn LS2 wasn't my first car, but it was the first car I bought and paid for. The first car I drove that I liked. It was green. It sat four comfortably. At least a few times I slept in it. I don't think it ever attracted the girls, but it didn't scare them off either.

Now its gone, replaced by a Toyota. Which is pretty much the whole world of cars summed up nicely.

More Time to Blog

Looks like your humble blogger is going to be without a day job. Good news for you readers: more time for posts! I might do three a day now. I am now available for personal appearances as well.

But hey, if any of you out there in blog land have something available or a hot tip, I'm not too proud to beg you for it.

Notes from the Road

I drove across 5 different states and every single one of them had better roads than California.

Sadly, I missed out on my chance at viral video immortality when a Yellowstone buffalo failed to charge a pair of bikers who walked right up and tried to pet it. I was ready with the camera, but the buffalo apparently was just feeling mild that day.

Eastern Utah – Salt. Lots of Salt. And nothing else. Also the area where I came closest to running out of gas. Yikes.

Old Faithful is not actually that faithful. Its eruption schedule is +/- 10 minutes. The rangers are sure to point out that they only predict, they don’t control the geysers.

Never heard the Glenn Beck radio show at any length till now. Man is off his nut.

All of Salt Lake City is laid out on the LDS Temple. The streets are numbered in relation to the temple. 800 South Street is eight blocks south of the temple, 2400 east is 24 blocks east of the temple and so on.

I can still put up a tent in the dark. The old boy scout skills are still with me.

You know when you have to decide something and a little angel and a little devil pop up to tell you to do the right or wrong thing? Well, if you walk into the right bar in Reno you can meet the little devil who leads you astray in person. She’s a brunette.

I-50 through Nevada is quite easily the most desolate piece of highway I have ever been across. About 200 miles in, and with only a crazy preacher-man on the radio, I’ll admit I started talking to myself a little bit.

However, the I-50 run did include a roadside dinner in Eureka, NV where I ate what was easily the greatest hamburger of my entire life. The service was surly, the order took forever to fill, but I’m considering starting my own religious movement centered on that hamburger.

My skill in comforting a crying baby needs work.

A bar in Utah can’t serve alcohol in a container larger that 4.5 ounces, but a “private club” can serve as much as it likes. Therefore, every bar in Salt Lake City is actually a “private club” They sign you up at the door, membership costs a dollar. I’m now the proud member of no less than four “private clubs.” They don’t seem to have very high standards for members.

At a certain spot in Idaho, you can hit scan on the AM dial and hit four stations in a row all of which are broadcasting Rush Limbaugh.

You can’t buy a beer at a county fair in Wyoming. And they call themselves Americans.

Discussion question. You are driving on the open road, which song do you want to hear?

Road Trip

Blogging will continue to be light, but I may check in from the road, internet connection permitting. Stay Cool.

Infected

Anybody know a good anti-virus software?

Italian Picnic

I'm off to do my duty for Societa Di Unione E Beneficenza Italiana, which means helping run the bocce courts. Everybody have a good weekend.

A Scene From My City

Five guys in a four-man car right outside my door, smoking the shit out of it. So much smoke they are nothing but shadows and the occasional flash of red when they draw.

My Project

Being someone who will often talk about writing a movie screenplay but never actually do it, I've signed up for Script Frenzy, an online challenge to write a 100-page screenplay in the month of April. I need the prodding. It's not so much I work best when facing a deadline, it's that I only work when facing a deadline. Now screenwriting has proven kind of tricky, despite the hints I can glean from Kung Fu Monkey, John August, and Jane Epenson. The format for a screenplay isn't like anything I've done before, and has proven much harder to do than blog posts, for example. To stay on schedule, I should have written 18 pages by now. I've done 8. But now I've shared my efforts with you all, so, in order to now avoid shame in front of you - my family, friends and lovers, plus the random good-hearted who read me, I must renew my efforts.

Completely, Sadly True

I'm years away from any kind of education and still, my anxiety dreams are didn't study for the test dreams. It doesn't matter what I'm worried about in real life, my sub-conscious is still worried about those damn tests. I never did study enough.

Paul Harvey...Good Day!

Back in the day, before I knew that other radio stations existed my parents would always listen to KNGT - Home Town Radio. One of their features was always Paul Harvey. Silky smooth voice, breaking down the news, pitching products. He had the news of the day, funny dumb criminal stories, couples that had made it to their 60th (!) wedding anniversary, the ironic twists from history in his "The Rest of the Story" bits. He was the most amazing salesman. To this day I remain convinced the Boise Radio is the best ever made, and I've never actually heard one. Eventually I discovered the dial on the side of the radio, and moved to stations that played cooler music and didn't tell you a bit of news. Now that I know where I stand, I can safely say that the "Comment" part of Paul Harvey, News and Comment is all wet.

But Paul Harvey was the one that taught me that news could be fun, was worth paying attention to. That the world was worth listening to. So thank you for that Mr. Harvey.

That's Uncle Craig, Thank You Very Much

Meet my nephew Dominic:



He's happy to see you too.

My Online World

When I think to myself "Valentines day is coming up, I better move some romantic mushy stuff to the top of my Nexflix's queue so that it gets here in time" you know that the digital age has officially arrived.

Seasons Eatings

I'm not saying it's hard to stay in shape over the holidays, but on my way to the gym tonight I was offered a plate of cookies by a complete stranger. In the parking lot. The gym parking lot.

The universe does not want me in shape.

Free Money!

The Fed just dropped its prime lending rate to .25%, which is a pretty damn good interest rate if you can get it. I'm at 14% with my credit card, 6.5% with my car and 4.5% with my student loans. Maybe I should get a Fed loan! I would much rather pay .25%! What does it take to become a bank? Can anybody do it? Could the First Mattress Trust qualify?

Going to the Mattress

I am pleased to announce the opening of the First Craig Mattress Trust. I am happy to offer my mattress for anyone who wishes to stuff their life savings. Feeling unsure about your bank, mutual fund or hedge fund? With the mattress trust I offer an absolute guaranteed rate of return* and the very best security. I have a deadbolt. I am a very large and intimidating figure. I live in a very nice neighborhood (We have lots of Obama-Biden signs.) Plus, I'm very messey, and thus maintain the illusion of semi-poverty so no one would look in my mattress for any kind of payday. That's security you can depend on.

Put your faith in the First Craig Mattress Trust. Because everyone else is going to screw you.

*0 percent annual rate of return. Guaranteed.

Where's My Rescue?

It would be a lot cheaper to rescue me. I'm not nearly in the money pit that A.I.G. is. We are not talking billions here. Just a couple of million dollars will help ensure my financial future well into the 21st Century.

Attention

Krissi is cute.

That is all.