the absolute coolest thing in the world

You rogue!  This cardboard doth turn the finest steel!
Somehow I got back around to listening to the Decemberists. Man, these albums just make me feel so good. I love the lyrics and the imagery, they’ve got to be some of my absolute favorite albums in a long time.

Saw this link today which kinda put a smile on my face. A website wrote a letter pretending to be a 5th grade student, asking senators for their favorite jokes. Then they waited for the responses and published them. I think the senators that took the time to write back, especially in their own hands, are awesome for doing it. Some of the jokes even made me chuckle. I realize it must be hard to sift through the piles of mail these people get every day – but I think it’s cool that some staffer put these particular letters through to the senators and they actually took the time to respond. Why am I talking about this? I dunno, let’s move on.

Been evaluating some refinancing options for the house lately. Seems we can save a good deal of money if we refi now. The house across the street from us, same floorplan and same half-done backyard, recently appraised for $80k more than we paid for ours only 10mos ago. With that amount of equity and the rates where they are now, I think we’d be stupid to not refi. Plus, a reduction in our monthly payment would be a godsend. Since we couldn’t come up with the 20% downpayment, we’ve been paying some $300/mo in mortgage insurance. That’s money down the drain. With an appraisal that nets us 20% equity we can get out of the insurance, and get a lower monthly payment too. I have a meeting with a couple brokers today to discuss the finer details.

I got a note about yesterday’s entry from a friend at work, and I was kind of surprised because I’m still unsure who even reads this thing. Made me feel good because she said she could “… identify with the cooking… and the sports… and the pants that are supposed to be regular but are always 6 inches too long… and wondering how penguins have sex…” So, someone’s reading… not that it would really matter, I would probably write anyway. From the look of the last three paragraphs, it seems that I am trying to make this the most non-cohesive and random entry ever. There goes the slim audience I’ve somehow managed to keep up to now. For really though, I’ve been doing this thing for six months now? I’m pretty proud of that.

I remember when I was a kid that my dad did a lot of cool stuff for me. I hope that one day I can do cool stuff for my kids too. One day he made these elaborate cardboard shields for my brother and to swordfight with. He had taken the encyclopedia and either copied or blown-up and traced some mythical images on the front of the shields. Mine was a Pegasus, and I think Frank’s was a Minotaur or something. They were hand-drawn in red marker, and I remember thinking they were the absolute coolest thing in the world. I also remember my dad helping Frank and I write messages, stuff them in airtight beer bottles, and driving us to the pier to toss them in for potential castaways to find. I think the whole message-in-a-bottle idea was his, and he had us put some contact info in there in case anyone ever did find one. What a cool idea of something to do with your kids. One time I also saw him haul off and smack a dog in the head with a shovel, man dog’s yelp with they get smacked with shovels. Oh, the dog was mauling my little brother at the time – so it’s cool. Don’t sic PETA on me.

That’s it for today. Sorry. Dave out.

pigs: can’t catch a frisbee

We don't need no education!
The other day I got a letter in the mail from the Oxnard, CA police department. Seems that I double parked my grey Toyota in the 600 block of Mendoza Ave. last November. Now they want the $60 I owe them for the violation. Only one problem, I don’t own a grey Toyota and I’ve never been to Oxnard. So, I called them up and explained, and they dismissed the ticket. They explained it away as the ticketing officer’s fat fingers miskeying my plates. Whatever, that guy with a license plate close to mine sure got lucky. And I was thinking, couldn’t I just call up on any ticket and say I don’t own this car or this plate? I mean, he didn’t ask me a damn thing – not my name, not where I’m from, not anything. Just said “OK,” and dismissed the ticket. I’ll have to remember that, because it seems a lot better than actually paying a ticket.

I’ve been mapping out my plan of attack for the backyard, updating my backyard layout file and reading up on irrigation and sod. It’s amazing how much you can learn on the internet. I learned how to build my retaining wall on the internet, how hydraulics work on the internet, and how to make a Flying Crank Ghost on the internet. I also buy movie tickets, make appointments at the DMV, pay my bills, and balance my checkbook – all on the internet. I’ve made camping reservations, hiking reservations, airline and rental car reservations, hotel reservations – all on the internet. I’ve bought all manner of goods on the internet, I’ve found long out-of-print books and albums on the internet. I’ve even used the internet to sell stuff I no longer want. The internet has replaced maps, phone books, travel agents, long lines, middle men, newspapers and magazines, textbooks, checkbooks, and the embarrassment of renting porn. What would I do without ye, o’ glorious net of inter?

Did you guys know that a cow can go from a walking animal to a refrigerated side of beef in less than six minutes? I know people who have seen how meat is processed and gone vegetarian because of it. But really, I wonder when in the cow-to-meat process they find the product acceptable and not disgusting? People are fine buying packaged meat in the store, steaks and ground beef placed on white styrofoam and wrapped in cellophane. So at what point in the cow-to-steak transformation does the product become palatable to most?

For me, I could care less. I actually have a strong desire to learn how to properly clean an animal. I’m sure that somehow relates to my crazy need to feel equipped for a “desert island” survival scenario – but the point is that when I see a cow walking around, I can see a steak that’s not cooked yet. I have no problem associating the walking breathing four-legged animal with the meat that I cook and eat. I think some people see a cow as a cute animal, and a steak as something that comes from the grocery store. They forget all the blood and skin and muscle that used to be around that meat. It may as well have been formed spontaneously in a “meat machine,” where nothing with eyes had to die to create it. But something with eyes did die. It died when they shot a nailgun into it’s head, hamstrung it and slit it’s throat to bleed it out, and then sliced it ass-to-throat to let it’s entrails spill out into a huge drain in the floor. Still want a hamburger for lunch? See, I do.

I also think it’s interesting which animals we deem edible and which ones we don’t. When it comes down to it, I’m sure horse meat and dog meat and cat meat have a taste all of their own – and maybe they’re yummy. But I think as humans, we tend to not eat animals that show some form of intelligence or can be “affectionate” to us. Horses are smart, dogs are smart, cats are dumb as rocks but they show affection just like horses and dogs. So we don’t eat ’em. They can recognize us when we come home from work, they remember us – so we spare their lives. Cows are infinitely dumb, so they get turned into food. Chickens: dumb, turkeys: never purr when you pet them, pigs: can’t catch a frisbee – you’re all on our list. We’re gonna kill you and eat you. Take a hint from the lucky ones and get smart or start nuzzling us – then maybe we’ll elevate you to “don’t eat” status.

Soylent Green is people! Dave out.

an honest-to-goodness dump truck

I saw this old guy on the web, and he needed some more exposure.  Here he is.
Another gorgeous day in Northern California. If I don’t get some camping and hiking in soon I think I might lose it. This weather is just taunting me to get outside and get things done. Speaking of getting things done, the dirt-pile is gone! I thought it would never happen, but every last bit of rock and dirt is outta there. Before I go into the story, I just wanted to let you guys know that, as I write, I’m listening to one of the best albums ever made. Once upon a time in 1968, Mike Bloomfield, Al Kooper, and Stephen Stills got together to make a record. What resulted is, to me, a freakin’ masterpiece of free-form blues rock awesomeness. Honestly, I could listen to this album over and over and over. 1968 must have been amazing. The White Album, John Wesley Harding, Disraeli Gears, Super Session, Led Zeppelin (yeah, I know it was the first week of ’69, but that’s close enough), Sweetheart of the Rodeo, Traffic, Electric Ladyland, Astral Weeks, Bookends, Spirit, and so many more I’m probably leaving out. Yeah, what a year – and the Bloomfield, Kooper, and Stills album Super Session is just dripping with that sound. Turn it up.

So back to this weekend and the great dirt-removal project. All my planning and orchestration was wasted. I schemed with friends to borrow wheelbarrows, 2-ton trucks, dump trailers, shovels, and other implements of destruction. The plan was to use manpower to fill up the dump trailer, then drive the whole thing to the landfill and repeat until done. We got out there at about 8am on Saturday morning with shovels and picks and wheelbarrows – and starting filling up the trailer. After about 2 hours work it became painfully apparent that the shovel and wheelbarrow route wasn’t going to cut it. Around 10:30am I rented a Bobcat. I swore I wouldn’t rent one again, because I get nervous driving them around in my backyard. But the size of the project made it a necessary evil. The Bobcat filled up the trailer right quick. We hopped in the truck and headed to the dump. The trailer was extremely heavy, and the brakes on the truck could barely stop us. It was a little scary. Once at the dump, we backed into the dirt-dumping area and hit the hydraulic lift switch on the trailer. Of course, nothing happened. Turns out the trailer couldn’t handle the weight of the dirt. So Anthony and I spent the next half hour shoveling ? of the load out by hand. We were finally able to get the trailer to dump, and we took of back towards home.

One the way home, the realization that we wouldn’t be able to finish with the Bobcat/trailer model began to sink in. We dumped 9100lbs of dirt on that 1st run to the landfill, since a yard of dirt weighs roughly 3000lbs – we had only gotten rid of 3 yards? and by the looks of what was left that was only about a 10th of the entire job. Not to mention a round trip to the dump was an hour and a half excursion when you counted waiting in the line of cars to get in. It was obvious we’d need something with a bigger hauling capacity to get the job done right. So, I called up and rented an honest-to-goodness dump truck.

You know they let just anyone rent a friggin’ 10-ton dump truck? I mean, I was thinking – why not rent one and fill it with bombs and blow something up? Or go on a Vice City style rampage through the city streets? Anyway, the dump truck held 5 yards and could handle from 20-30 bucketfulls from the Bobcat. We were furthered screwed by the dump’s weekend hours – they closed at 4:30pm. By the time we got the dump truck filled up for the first time, they were already closed. That’s when I got the idea to call a buddy who had mentioned that he needed some fill. Turns out he wanted anything I could bring him, so we took it all up to his place. The trip was quicker than the dump too.

In the end, we removed about 28 yards of dirt. Five dump-trucks full and one dump-trailer full. Managed to get all the rented equipment returned on time, and finished the project to the tune of ~$450. More than I wanted to spend, but less than the $1k+ estimate I got from some professional hauling companies. Plus, it felt good to get it done under my own (and Anthony’s) power. As I was pulling out of the driveway this morning, I stopped, put the truck in park, and went to take a peek over the fence at the dirtpileless backyard. It just feels good to look at it. Next on the list is forming up the patio and trenching for drainage and sprinklers. If only we had unlimited funds? ’cause I can always come up with another project.


Pat pushes dirt around while I drop a load.
       
Anthony drove the ‘cat most of the time, here he is on break.

One thing I like about owning a house is that it’s given me the opportunity to learn how to do a lot of things I would’ve otherwise probably never tried. I’m not saying I’m a Mr. Fix It or a DIY posterboy, but I have gotten a little better with my mechanical skills. I’m nowhere near some people I know. A buddy of mine at work recently bought a house too, an older one that he’s really doing a lot of work on. Talking to him, it seems like he’s not afraid to do anything – he just takes a run at it and it normally comes out great. He recently redid the kitchen, and is talking about rewiring the whole house. Crazy. Maybe I’ll get a little more confident as I get some more completed projects under my belt. The backyard thus far has already done wonders.

Listen to Super Session y’allz. I implore you. Oh, and I don’t care what you think about the Stills – I love that album. Dave out.

so i write them down

Weather.
Yeah. I didn’t write yesterday. What you gonna do about it?

Woke up this morning at 4:30am to hop a flight to Seattle. Tonight we hit Gameworks, some kind of fancy virtual-reality arcade which is somehow related to Steven Spielberg. It’s a business trip, but the weather here makes me want to do anything but business. I’ve caught the camping bug pretty bad lately, with the awesome weather we’ve been having this past week. Makes me want to get outside and get away. I’ll be needing that release soon. Right now I’m so busted-tired that I can’t focus.

I was gonna write about writing, but I read my old journal and found a nice summary from April of 2001:

Yo. Listening to CSN&Y’s “Deja Vu,” and totally reminiscing about the good old days when this music was brand spankin’ new to me and how amazing it all was. Seems like times gone by can always be remembered as “simpler times.” I think that’s what has crystallized those special years in my memory as the best of all things. I have had many great times in my life, and am in fact living some of the best right now – but I’ll still remember those middle school years (7th, 8th & 9th) as some of the absolute best.

Even with all the pressure and junior high social politics – the things we did and saw have just been permanently etched into my memory. I think it has something to do with the glory of discovery: doing, seeing, and living things for the first time. Experiencing things for the first time can only be done once. Just really becoming a person, and having so much fun along the way.

I wouldn’t trade those years for anything. They are the epitome of what I yearn for now. So much less responsibility, so care free, not knowing what to do but making a go at it anyway and laughing at the “seriousness” of others. I know, it’s all about being a kid – and I pity kids who don’t get to have that revelatory period, it takes a pretty balanced combo of curiosity, stupidity, courage, perceived invincibility, and somewhat lax or liberal parenting. But if all those planets line up at the right time, it can be a most wonderful thing – and I speak from experience.

So many memories that I don’t want to ever forget. So I write them down, however small and fragmented, just to get them archived somewhere – mainly for my own benefit. I’ve also thought about one day letting my kids read through these things. I wonder would I like to read something like this that my dad wrote? I think I would , once I was old enough to appreciate it. Even if it did make blatant references to drugs, sex, and other things I would of course forbid my children from getting into.

But, I guess that goes with the idea of not letting them in on it until they are old enough to understand or appreciate it.

Back to the 2k4. Dave out.

drinking wrong since day one

GIS for sunshine.
Today a buddy at work sent me a news story about the Hubble telescope’s latest findings. The folks who run the telescope had it do it’s “deepest” probe ever of the universe. Looking as far out into space as possible and gathering data from that point allows scientists to see light from events that happened just a few hundred million years after the big bang. It’s pretty insane to think that we’re looking out across a massive amount of distance to point X, to collect light that has itself traveled a massive amount of distance just to get to point X – and this effectively enables us to see back in time.

After chewing on it for a while, and thinking I understood for a while – I think I totally out-physics’ed myself. If the universe is constantly expanding from the big bang, then that’s the reason we’re so far away (distance-wise) from that point of origin. So now we’re using a telescope too look back over a long amount of distance towards that point of origin. However, light from the events that happened billions of years ago at that point of origin have been traveling outward since the events happened. So as we look back over distance to point X, we’re capturing light that has managed to travel to that point X from the point of origin. The farther back in distance we can look, the earlier we can intercept light emitted from events that took place at distances even farther away. Right?

But, we were also a part of those early events right? In some way, at least. How did we manage to get so far away from them that we can look back on them? Why did we get to our current point in the universe before the light that we’re now looking back on? To simplify it, let’s say that the big bang happened and our galaxy as we know it now was created right off the bat. We’re right at the point where everything exploded into stars and energy, surrounded by those events. How did we then manage to drift so far so fast to some point that we can now look back on the light of those events? How did we so well “outrun” the light from those early events? My lack of understanding comes from a severely physics-challenged mind.

I do know that listening to Godspeed You Black Emperor! and A Silver Mt. Zion puts you in the perfect mindset to think about the beginning/end of the universe. You know, confronting your own mortality and insignificance and whatnot. Good music that most people would hate, or as Sharaun calls it “that stuff you listen to that makes me want to kill myself.” Can you guys believe we can look back in time?! Jumping to what Sharaun’s essay trumped for yesterday.

Sunday afternoon and one of the most beautiful days I’ve seen in a while. Not a cloud in the sky and the perfect temperature. I’ve got all the windows in the house open and some Stills‘ “Logic Will Break Your Heart” on the stereo. I know, britpop is old ‘n’ busted, but for some reason I love this album – even if it is Canadian britpop. It reminds me of my brit-soaked last years of high school – and hints somehow at Nada Surf’s underappreciated “Let Go.” Wow? the OC is playing Death Cab and I’m listening to britpop again? maybe my whole musical microcosm is turning inside-out.

This morning I caught up on some much-needed house cleaning while Sharaun was at her game. Now I’ve got to create an “instruction sheet” for using the hack on my Pioneer CD burner – since it sold last night for $250. Then it’s off to a matinee show here in town at Old Ironsides starring the Stars and Dears. We were actually supposed to do that same show last night in San Francisco, but Sharaun discovered on Friday that they would be in Sacramento the next day. Considering the cost of gas to the city and back, and eating out on the way there – we decided we’d actually make money by skipping the one we’d already paid for and taking in the show locally tonight. (From the future – the show was good).

I think I’ve been drinking beer wrong since day one. When I was in middle school and I got my first real taste of beer, I can recall thinking it was completely horrid. I think it was the bitterness of it that put me off at first, I just hated it. After much practice though, I came to love the beer as I do today. Last night we were enjoying some at Anthony’s, and my nose started getting stuffy – like it often does when I drink beer for some reason. I started thinking about why my nose would be affected from one beverage over any other, and I decided it had something to do with the way I swallow beer. And get this, I think I discovered that I’ve been drinking beer completely wrong for like 12 years. See, back in my na?ve youth, the bitterness of beer bothered me so much that I must have subconsciously developed a technique to minimize my tasting of it. When I drink beer, and only when it’s beer, I “throw” the beer right past the front of my tongue and directly to the back of my mouth. I hold it at the back and then let it drain down my throat more than swallow it. I think I must have developed this nasty habit in an attempt to let the beer bypass the front part of my tongue – which in my mind somehow reduced the bitter taste. I think the “draining more than swallowing” is also an effort to keep the front of my tongue beer-free. I don’t drink any other liquid this way.

So, I am now making a conscious effort to drink beer like I drink any other beverage. I mean, I’d hate to think that I’ve been missing out on a whole other element of beer’s taste. It would certainly be a shame if I were to go through my whole life never knowing what beer tastes like when you let it hit the front of your tongue.

Dave out.

ghostwriting about ghosts

The only thing I'd ever need on that desert island I always talk about.
Sharaun ghost writes today’s blog without even knowing it. From some document called “SUMMER93.doc” I found while cleaning out my “My Documents” folder. The date says it was written a few years ago. I liked it.

Praise the Lord! Tenth grade was over and the summer was here. Those were my thoughts walking out of Rockledge High School. My sophomore year had been a difficult one, especially with geometry, but that was all behind me now. I would spend my summer with friends on the beach, just letting the sun melt the geometry from my brain. I vowed to never speak the word again. That is until three days later when my parents received my final report card in the mail. I spent about an hour trying to justify the “D” I received in my geometry class. I could have sworn I had a solid “C” in there. Anyway, my father concluded our conversation by letting me know I would be on restriction……the entire summer. I stormed off to my room where I sobbed for two consecutive hours. How could my father be so irrational? At least I didn’t fail.

Fortunately, after having been restricted for only two weeks, my father decided that a whole summers restriction was a somewhat extreme. He told me that I could start going out again. Those words were music to my ears. I immediately called my friend Natalie to make plans for the night. I was excited about what the summer had in store.

Nothing could have prepared me for the summer of 1993. I’ve never had so many memorable experiences in such a short amount of time. During those next two months I made a new friend, started a relationship with the guy who is still my boyfriend, and had the most fun doing the dumbest things.

My first night out was going to be with Natalie. Upon calling her, she informed me that her cousin Heather had flown in from Pennsylvania. She said Heather was our age and that she was “real cool.” Natalie had recently turned sixteen and gotten her license, so Natalie, Heather, and I were set to cruise the thrilling city of Rockledge. Rockledge, for those who don’t know, (which is everyone) is a small town. It is a good 30 minute drive to get to a town that has some sort of entertainment. That night I was introduced to Heather. She was “real cool.” We got along great. Heather was a petite girl, with short, light brown hair which framed her freckled face. She wore wire rimmed oval glasses, and spoke with a slight accent. I don’t know exactly what kind of accent it was. She spoke different from Natalie and I. I suppose it was a Pennsylvanian accent. Anyway, she fit perfectly into our group of friends. It was me, Natalie, Heather,David, Andy, and Kyle. We were inseparable that summer.

The six of us spent countless nights together. We didn’t do much hanging out in the daytime. That was when the girls would go to the beach and the guys would do…well, whatever it was that they did in the daytime. However, once the sun set, it was a given that we would be getting together. We never did anything significant. We usually just found a place where we could talk, whether it was at someone’s house, the beach, the dock, the circle, Wendy’s, or the local elementary school’s playground. We had numerous conversations that led to us all growing very close. I, in particular, grew very close to David.

I had met David the previous year in school. He, like his friends Andy and Kyle, was kind of weird. They were different from the typical tenth grade boys. They were sort of like loners. They weren’t the party boys or the jocks, they were in a class of their own. In fact, at one point, I found David to be a little scary. He always wore satanic looking Led Zeppelin shirts. I learned much more about David during those summer nights (like the fact he didn’t worship the devil). David and I enjoyed talking so much that I began calling him. After returning home from our outings, I would sneak the telephone into my bedroom to call David. Talking to David, on the phone, became a nightly event. We had so much to learn about each other. On many nights we would talk until the sun came up. We would talk on the phone for seven hours and it would feel like only two. David and I became best friends.

Heather and Natalie noticed mine and David’s fondness for one another. They would often tease us about “liking” each other, but I assured them that I would never “like” someone so weird. Pretty soon, Andy and Kyle joined in on the teasing. So one night when we were all at the circle (an empty cul-de-sac in an undeveloped subdivision), David and I hopped into his red Nissan to talk. The others must have thought we were having a make out fest because they began circling the car like buzzards. It was a humid evening, and David turned the air on. This caused the car windows to fog. Kyle, Heather, Andy, and Natalie stood outside the car trying to peer through the frost to catch a glimpse of what was going on. Deciding to give them something to talk about, David jumped on top of me. It was kind of uncomfortable being squashed on top of each other in the front seat, but it was well worth it to see the looks on their faces when we climbed out of the car.

The six of us pulled a lot of pranks that summer, only we pulled them on one another. It seemed to be our way of showing affection. We would take turns toilet papering each other’s houses, along with other unusual displays of liking. I will never forget returning home from a softball tournament to find every inch of my yard covered in toilet and newspaper. It could only be the work of David, Andy and Kyle. My neighbors actually came over to take pictures. My front yard consists of a lot of shrubbery and a huge oak tree. Those three guys must have spent hours, and a fortune, on toilet papering my house. They claimed to have used forty-three rolls. And if that wasn’t bad enough, they used shredded newspaper to coat my lawn. I don’t think a square inch of grass was visible. After four hours of cleanup, which still wasn’t to my parents satisfaction, I was exhausted. I used every ladder, step stool, and lawn tool to remove the toilet paper from the oak tree, but nothing worked. I believe there still may be white remnants in the top branches. It was time for revenge!

Natalie, Heather and I wanted to get them back, in an unusual way. The toilet paper thing was old, so we decided on pork-n-beans. We scrounged up as much money as we could find, and purchased half a shopping cart full of pork-n-beans. This was going to be great! We emptied the cans into as many Tupperware containers they could fill, then hopped into Natalie’s car to complete our mission. We coated David’s front porch with a thick layer of pork-n-beans. Driving home, we laughed until we cried at the thought of having to clean that mess up. David said it didn’t take him long to hose down his porch, however the pork-n-bean juice did leave his porch a beautiful shade of brown! That summer the pranks continued with such items as creamed corn, dirt, dog food and vegetable oil.

It wasn’t long before Heather’s three and a half weeks were up. We all told her good-bye and how much we would miss her. We had shared some wonderful times with Heather. She became a part of the best experiences I ever had. Through letters to Natalie, Heather kept us posted on how she was doing, but after that summer we never saw Heather again.

The summer went on as before. Nothing special, just spending time together and pulling pranks. Well, I suppose there was something special. That would be David. We were closer than ever. Over the summer I contracted a very mild case of mono. Over the two weeks I was sick, David brought me flowers, balloons and food. He really showed me how much he cared by spending time with me while I was ill. I knew everything there was to know about David, just as he knew everything about me. We began to wrap up our nightly phone calls with “I love you.” I can’t explain how I fell in love with David, just as I can’t explain how I grew so close to Heather in a mere three weeks, or what possessed us to pour pork-n-beans on someone’s porch. They all just happened. There was something magical about that summer. Something that made it unforgettable.

No one wanted to see summer end, but before we knew it our junior year had arrived. Although I despised going back to school, at least there would be no geometry. Shortly into eleventh grade, David and I officially started a relationship. We are still together to this day.

I continue to keep in touch with the others from that summer, that is everyone but Heather. About two years ago, Natalie told me Heather was involved in a serious car crash that took her life. I couldn’t believe someone as lively as Heather could be dead. Although I had spent just a few weeks with Heather, she effected me in a big way. She is a part of some of my greatest memories.

It would be impossible for me to put on paper everything the six of us did that summer. It would also be impossible to describe in words the feelings I felt. All I can do is recount some of the highlights and say that they were the best times of my life. I left the summer of ’93 with a new friend, an exciting romance, and stories to tell my children.

Dave… er… Sharaun out.

family photos

How did people make their friends look dumb before this program?!
Today we got into a little Photoshop war, and instead of writing I thought I’d just post the results – it’ll be more interesting anyway.

It all started when Ben’s dad scanned in some old family photos and sent them to Ben. Ben thought he looked funny in a couple of them, so he forwarded them to Anthony and me. After looking at one picture, I told Ben he looked like devil-spawn because of the evil look on his face. He also looked decidedly evil in another one of the images.



   

 

Ben’s bro Dave acted on the evil theme, and crafted up a Photoshop which he sent in an e-mail called “I’m taking control of this town!”



He followed up the morning after with a pretty involved animated version. Not about to let Dave to get all the glory, I came correct with “I’m taking control of this continent!”



Apparently not wanting to be outdone, and most obviously cowering before my PS skillz, Dave fired back with “Benan.”



I countered with “I’m taking control of this movie,” which really doesn’t make that much sense. But the jogging suit was too good to ignore.



That’s it guys. Nothing more for today. I think I’ll go home early and mow the lawn, since I’ve obviously decided that my “work day” will contain no actual work today. Until Monday, Dave out.

PS – Sorry Ben and family if you didn’t want your family photos on the web, I’ll take ’em down if you file suit or something. No really, just say the word.