beyond grunts and gestures

No particular reason, I just truly love the Andy Griffith show... I suppose there was a tenuous connection with the vacation theme...
Concert in San Francisco last night. Show was great, like a crazy band orgy or something. Each act was some combination of members from all three, and at one point I counted eleven people on stage, including two trombones and two trumpets. They made a glorious rock noise. What more can I say? Got lost trying to get to the venue. Got back late. I won’t dwell on it too much, you’ve heard it before.

Vacation: soon. Seriously, I am getting mad antsy. I want some real downtime, like where nothing goes on. Thanksgiving should be just that. Lay around by the fire and read a book, sleep. I’ve been wondering about how the blog will fare over the holiday. Since we’re going out of town, to a place with no phone in our room… I’m not entirely sure if I’ll be able to do the daily blog. I mean, the lodge will be a great place to get some writing done – I just may not have a way to upload it. Guess I’ll just wait and see.

This recording jones is getting pretty bad. I’ve got a mental tally running on how much it would cost to get a few second-hand instruments and a fourtrack. I’d really only need a guitar, bass, keyboard/synth, and the fourtrack. I can use Fruity Loops for the drum track, or just bang on whatever. I’m just hesitant to spend the money and then never use the stuff. And it is kind of a strange idea considering my talent amounts to being barely able to pluck out Teen Spirit on the bass.

I was working on a “morph” of the gradeschool pictures from yesterday’s blog, mostly because I’ve never done a morph before and I thought it’d be cool. If it comes out OK I might post it here. I was once again mining my old journals for blog fodder the other day, so much of my writing style is embarrassing when I look back on it. Comes off sounding like I’m trying to be all “thoughtful” or something. Ugh. Anyway, I did find a couple entries I thought were interesting. If for nothing else than just to confirm to me that I’ve always had dumb thoughts about cavemen.

I was thinking about this one as I pulled out of the parking lot the other day after work. It was a hot day, and the sun had turned the cab of the Ford into an oven. I hate climbing into a sun-baked car, the heat is so “thick” as it hits my head and gives me an instant mini-headache. The AC only blows hot air for the first 30 seconds, and the seats and steering wheel burn you. Even the music sounds bad at first. So, that got me thinking, how much I don’t like getting into the car while it’s so hot – but how I do it anyway because I need to get in the car to get home. And I want to be home more than I don’t want to be in the hot car. So, that got me thinking about “choice.”

So, I started thinking. Have advances in technology ultimately increased or decreased our freedom of choice. I mean, one of the main selling points of “new” and “improved” technologies is the greater freedom the endow us with. Such as the freedom to order movie tickets online, and skip the line on opening night. Or the freedom to climb in a car and drive home at 70 mph instead of jumping on a horse or walking. So, I was thinking that technology in a way increases our freedoms, but that increase comes at the premium of having many more things to make decisions about. I got to thinking about way back in the hunter-gatherer days of nomadic people. Small tribes, who move with the food or weather, only stopping in one place as long it provides the basics needed for existence. Perhaps not even having a spoken language beyond grunts and gestures. Did these people have a greater freedom of choice than us? Well, it depends. In actuality, “freedom of choice” is kind of an oxymoron. Freedom would to me means unrestricted possibilities, and choice implies a finite number of options. Not an oxymoron in the true sense, but enough of one to make the thought interesting in my head.

So then, what did these people have? Not much! But their choices were extremely limited compared to what we have to choose from. They either hunted, gathered, or died. I mean, on the detailed level, there were still millions of tiny choices being made – but the number certainly was much less than what faces us today. When they were hungry, they chose to get something to eat. But it did not involve deciding between eating out or cooking in, Italian or Sushi, etc. It was go hunt some animal and eat it. How do you get to the food? Take a bus, ride a bike, drive? Nope – you walk. Do you need to go to the ATM and get cash, or do they take a debit card? Do you have ketchup at home or do you need the little packets? Nope, you throw a sharp rock at a rabbit’s head and hope you kill it. If you miss, you stay hungry.

Anyway, my point was: We, in this age of technology, are often forced to make unappealing choices in order to achieve a desired outcome. Back then, did you ever have to do anything you didn’t want to? Were things so basic and primal that we just avoided doing unpleasant things altogether? If you don’t like it – don’t do it. Right? That’s basic, that’s primal, that’s something logical. I thought I was right, I thought that those people – when faced with walking back to where they slept last night or just laying down when they got tired, would just lay down – since the extra effort walking to last night’s camp wouldn’t offer any bonus and wouldn’t be worth the effort. I, however, climb into the hot car when I really don’t want to – because I need to get home.

Owell, it was a good thought for about 5 minutes, until I realized it was stupid. And that everyone at some point has to choose to do something unpleasant to get what they want. What if you were a squeamish hunter, and really didn’t like blood and guts. But, you still have to eat – and you have to clean your kill before you cook and eat it. Guess what, that guy is gonna work through his dislike of blood and guts to get dinner, so he won’t die. So for me it’s a hot car, and for cavemen it’s something else altogether. We’ve always had to make crap choices to achieve desired outcomes, it’s a part of life.

See, yuck. Sounds like I’m being all pretentious and “insightful.” Whatever, I needed something to fill the pages, and it was already written, and it made me laugh because I still daydream about crap like that today.

Man, I really misuse and abuse the comma and hyphen. Sorry for the crappy entry, sorry for the terrible grammar.

Dave out.

i’m a jerk

fried = good
I’m a jerk. I overcommit, I don’t call people back, and I sometimes don’t answer the phone when people call. No one in particular, I’m pretty impartial. I forget stuff, I pretend to forget stuff. I get in moods where I just wanna lock the door and be in my box. Other than that, I’m a fairly social person I guess.

Weekend roundup: Friday night Sharaun and I did a “double date” kinda thang with Eric and Suzy. We grabbed some dinner and then took in a show of the new Matrix. And yeah, what you’ve read is true – the new Matrix sucks pretty bad. Saturday Pat and Eric came over and we watched college ball and drank a few beers from the neverending keg (all served up without pumping the thing once). Sunday I woke up feeling pretty crappy, this cold seems to have migrated into my chest. Time to call the doc I guess. I tried to work in the backyard, but it was too muddy to get anything done. So I took a nap instead because I wasn’t feeling well. Sunday night is “Alias Night,” where we rotate houses and cook dinner for each other before we watch Alias – it was at Kristi’s last night and we had some yummy fried chicken. Wow, what an exciting life I lead.

Why the heck does Word always open up with the “reviewing” toolbar active? I don’t think I’ve ever used the stupid reviewing toolbar – yet every time I start the program, there it is, just takin’ up space up there in the toolbar place. I mean, I’m starting a new document from scratch, there’s nothing on the page, what the crap could I be reviewing? Stupid Word always doing the wrong crap. Why is the third bullet in my bulleted list a different color and size than every other bullet, seemingly for no reason? Why, all of the sudden, did the font size of the last sentence I typed increase by 1.5x when I hit the carriage return? Stupid stupid Word. How many years has Redmond been working on this dang thing anyway? No, I don’t want that little lightning bolt by that address, and get those red mountains out from under my wife’s name – I think I know how to spell it, thank you.

Finally got a haircut last night, and shaved this morning. With the addition of wearing a newish shirt, I figure I’ll probably get several phone numbers today. I did that “oops I don’t have that much hair anymore” thing with the shampoo this morning, squirting out a nice huge glob and having it run off my no-hair down into my eyes. I swear… While I was in the shower, I got to thinking about various diseases – and had a funny thought. What if all diseases could be cured by something that rhymes with the disease? Like, you could cure the flu with stew, or pneumonia with ammonia… yeah, those were really all I could think of. I thought maybe AIDS with parades or arcades, but I gave up on cancer and bronchitis.

So as you can tell I have nothing to write. I didn’t scan in any love letters, or write any short stories, and I can’t think of anything more to write. A full Halloween pictorial is upcoming, but other than that I don’t really have any planned topics. Guess I better start doing something interesting soon. It was cool to see my dad comment on the blog the Friday past, but I still see he maintains hi innocence in the Niagra debacle… shame pops, shame. Man, I’m even too lazy to go back through this entry and do the customary hyperlinking thing. So that’s it, I’m done. Dave out.

your bathrobe smells like assault

so I did do some growin' up here...
For some reason, the “blog_ideas.txt” file is blowing up. I’ve got a queue of items I want to write about, but this entry doesn’t contain a single one. Seems I’ve caught onto the “blog craze” or something. Steve said he’s afraid that the blog is starting to take over my life… I hope not. But I do enjoy writing it.

I went through a phase in college where I started writing one-paragraph “memory” things. I would try and write down a memory I had from when I was younger. I wrote these down on September 1st, 1997. It’s really freaky to me how many details that I’ve forgotten between now and when I actually wrote these down. The story about giving the bird to the retarded kid… I had completely forgotten that until I just read it. In the six years since 1997, it was effectively erased from my mind. Maybe I should keep writing things down… lest I lose ’em all one day. Anyway, for your enjoyment (maybe), here are some of ’em.

Some reference for these stories. From about 1st grade on, my family lived in Lompoc, California, at 613 North Y Street. Looking at that map, my house was on that street with the little red pin. The big tree-lined property almost directly underneath that was my school (yeah, I had a long walk). The fields to the north and east of the picture were our playgrounds for dirt clod wars, the big empty looking lot to the right is a church where we would make “tunnels” in the long grass out back. Now on to the stories:

I used to have this fantasy back when I was in fifth grade. There was this kid named Joe who I didn’t like because he was going out with Kristina. I remember thinking that it would be so cool if I could walk upside down on the roof. Like on the walkways around school. I thought about hitting Joe in the head and him not being able to reach me. I thought that everyone would think I was so cool if I could walk on the ceiling. I guess it’s kind of dumb now – but man it sounded so good back then.

We had this huge cardboard box like from a new fridge or something, and we put it in the backyard and climbed inside of it. We drew with markers all on the inside to make it look like a spaceship. It was supposed to be the Millennium Falcon. We put blankets down and drew fake windows with stars and planets in them. We would take those little cheese and cracker things and go inside and eat them on our way to Mars. One day the spaceship got hit by a meteor while my friend Shawn and I were in it. We started cussing and swearing at controls and beating on them. We used lots of bad words like they do in the movies when things break. The box was right under my mom’s bedroom window and she heard us cussing. That night I got in big trouble, and I had to get rid of the spaceship.

We used to have to go to this kid Jason’s house after school because mom and dad were at work. We would walk through the alley behind my house and through the fields to get there. One day I found a book in the alley, it was a very pornographic romance novel. No pictures though, just big words and lots of smut. I wish I could remember the name, something to do with a boat – like “Anchors Away” or something. We hid it way out in the field (we walked that vertical dirt farm road on the left to get from school to Jason’s) under a bunch of dirt clods and we would tear out a new page every day to read on the way to Jason’s house. There were about ten of us that Jason’s mom watched. And one girl told her mom about the pages, I had to go out in the field the next day and bring back the book for my mom to tear up. I got in trouble for that.

We would go over to Jonnie’s house across the street. His sister was in fourth grade and I was in fifth. We were gonna go kiss in the backyard. She said her mom and dad were in the bedroom “humping.” We started rolling around and looking at each other. Like some real movie love scene. Then her dad called all the kids to come in, I had to leave out the gate – no kiss.

There was this Asian family next door to Jonnie’s house and they had a kid who was retarded I think, he didn’t go to school and I think maybe he was in a wheelchair, or couldn’t move or something. All day long they would set him in front of these big sliding glass doors and he would just sit and stare outside. He had really short hair and we always looked at him. He would try to say things to us when the door was open, but he talked funny and you couldn’t understand him. It was all mumbled. I think he must have probably had cerebral palsy or something that I didn’t understand. He was trying to talk to us, and Jonnie’s sister Tina said he was calling me names, she said she could understand what he was saying and that he was calling me mean names. I got mad and gave him the finger, not really even sure what it meant I’m sure. His mother saw me. They told my parents. I cried and said that they made it all up, I cried so hard and so long that my parents believed me. I lied about it so many times that night that I almost believed I didn’t do it either. I said “Why would they make that up about me dad? Why?” I learned then that if you can make yourself believe your own lies, you can make anyone believe them. Probably not the life lessons my parents wanted me to learn. I wonder who that kid was, and what was wrong with him. I hope he didn’t know what I was doing.

It was about a week and a half before Christmas I’d say. My whole family packed into the station wagon and went to get our tree from the lot downtown. We picked out a really big one, we weren’t sure it would fit in our living room. When we got home my dad and I started pulling the tree out of the back of the station wagon, it was already hanging out a little because we couldn’t fit it all in. I remember having jackets on because it was kinda cold. Mom and John had gone inside and John was in the bathroom. My mom came back out the door to help us, we hadn’t quite got the tree out of the back yet. Then I heard a woman screaming for help. There was a new couple that moved in across the street only a few months ago. I looked over and there was this lady running out of the house with only bra and underwear on, she was kinda fat. She was screaming for help, and “he’ll kill me, he’s trying to kill me.” She ran straight for our driveway. My dad and I stared as she ran past us to my mom. We didn’t know her very well, but I remember when she ran past that she had all these big ugly bruises on her legs and back. Then we all went in the house and my mom had given her her bathrobe to wear. My mom called the police for her. After a while she went back across the street. After that my mom’s bathrobe smelled just like that lady. I told her a hated that smell, that it made me sad – it reminded me of that lady. She washed it but I swore I could still smell that lady. Finally she threw the bathrobe out and got a new one. I had never seen anything like that before.

I think James Kokobaker smoked pot in the fifth grade. He thought he was so cool. He went out with Kristina. I hated him, he lived across the railroad tracks from me. One day he asked me to come to his house after school. He was much bigger than me and I thought he wanted to fight me. But for some reason I went anyway. We went inside and played Olympic Skiing on his dad’s computer. I had a great time, and from then on he and I were friends.

Ryan Lopez was sort of weird, but I liked hanging out at his house ’cause it was right next to the park and had a great alley to ride bikes in. His parents were never home. They were always somewhere. He had a big brother that he idolized, he had been in the army and he played guitar and rode a motorcycle. He was really cool. He would tell us ghost stories and give us advice. When he wasn’t home we would go in his room and sit and talk, we thought he was the coolest. Ryan and I used to spray WD-40 on the fence in his backyard and light it on fire. We would draw pictures with the fire, like peace signs, smiley faces, and bad words. I used to have a pretty good time there. But we stopped hanging out that much when I met Shaine. Shaine and I got pretty popular and I guess I kind of ditched Ryan. I used to see him running around the playground while Shaine and I swung on our swings. They played Voltron, and we even sometimes made fun of them. It had been about two years since I’d even talked to Ryan. I was in fifth grade and I was looking outside my living room window. I saw Ryan riding his bike down my street, which was a long way from his house. I remember wondering what he was doing so far away from home, and almost at dinner time too. I went outside and called his name. He saw me and started to pedal faster and went right by me like he didn’t know me. He was wearing his brother’s black wind-breaker jacket with his brother’s name on the back.. He totally ignored me. I remember being mad. I went back inside. The next day I looked for him at school to ask him why he ignored me. When I asked Kristina where Ryan was, she told me. She said that his brother got in an accident on his motorcycle last night, he was dead. I felt sad for Ryan, and bad that I hadn’t talked to him in so long. Maybe he would’ve stopped and talked to me about it. He really loved that guy.

They asked me if I wanted to take the “gifted test.” I was in third grade. I had to put a puzzle together and look at some pictures and tell them things. I don’t remember it being too hard. They told my parents that I was gifted. They said a I could go to this all new gifted school next year. The school was far away and I had to take a bus to get there. All my friends were at my old school. The only person I knew at the new school was Ryan Lopez. He introduced me to his friends Sky and Blue. The swings sucked there, and the classes were weird too. I started to miss all my friends. I told my mom I didn’t like it. I got to go back to my old school in about a week, I was very happy that I wasn’t gifted anymore.

I got my new digital camera yesterday, man it is so awesome. I think I’m gonna sell the old one on Ebay, maybe make some cash. Oh, and even tho I typically don’t like Guided By Voices, I am really digging this song lately… just thought you’d wanna know that.

Dave out.

how i graduated

i'm educated... this paper says so!  where do i pick up my check?
We (Anthony and I) completed some more for the Halloween display last night. We finally decided how and where to hang the flying crank ghost motor assembly. We used plumber’s tape and screwed right into the stucco on my porch roof (it will hang in front of the window on the right in this pic, taken when our house was still being built). We also mounted a blacklight so that it’s out of sight and shines on the ghost. The whole idea worked out great, the motor assembly is out of view, and all the trick-or-treater sees is the moving ghost, bathed and glowing in UV light. Now I just have to build the ghost! We also built a fog chiller, which neither of us was too impressed with… so I may change the design; as well as cut PVC and began drilling boards for the graveyard fence. I plan to have all the decorations up by this weekend, so I can at least get a week’s worth of use out of them before Halloween. Sharaun and I also need to get a pumpkin and carve it. Can’t forget that! Owell. In the middle of hanging our FCG, I got a phone call from Zeb. OK… who is Zeb? Rewind to college, my three closest buds are Thanh (10), G.C. (Greasy Cuban), and Chris (image courtesy of G.C., unfortunately Chris isn’t pictured). Zeb is Chris’ friend from way back, and he and I occasionally chat. Anyway, he’s in the Navy and has something to do with the Blue Angels…. which is totally cool to me. I always forget to call people back, sorry Zeb.

I was thinking the other day about college, and how the heck I ever got out of there.. I kinda managed to pull one over on UF…. ummm… or pull a few over, I guess. I got that extra 1 credit for an “independent study” with Dr. Carnes, which was actually nothing – I did absolutely nothing on that, didn’t even move a muscle in effort or fire a synapse in thought. My senior project was an absolute joke, although I spent a good deal of time on it – it was really very simple. (I desinged a Bike Safety course for gradeschool kids, using Macromedia…. with like 5 other people.)

Also, we managed to get that “Navigating the Internet” class accepted as a technical elective. We knew that several technical electives fall under one generic course number, and without actually going back and researching it – there’d be no way for them to tell whether that number on the transcript was “Advanced Data Structures in C++”, or “Navigating the Internet.” (Heard they changed the numbering system the very next semester though!)

Not only that, but I was able to swing getting that COBOL programming course accepted as a tech elective. I mean, writing COBOL programs never took over 10 minutes, no matter how complex, and I got an easy A in that one. And then there was that summer course at UCF, it was a 4000 level course taught under the Mathematics Department, but it was called “History of Mathematics” (actual syllabus from when I took it! I love the internet.) and was mainly for future education majors. Thing is, UF doesn’t see anything but the course number, so it’s their guess as to what class it might have been. Could have been “Galois Theory and Elliptical Curves” for all they know. Got a fast and easy A in that one as well.

Then I also got that 1 credit for my so-called “internship” at Raytheon. Which was really nothing more than me coming in late and leaving early for 5 days (sometimes 4) a week. I wrote one DOS batch file during that “job,” nothing more. What’s more, I got paid good money to sit at that desk and download Grateful Dead mp3s all day (note: most proxies block that link, since you can grab gigs of mp3’s there so easily – not Raytheon!). Also, I managed to “recalculate” my GPA based on BCC and UF courses being weighted equally, giving me a nice round 3.01 overall average… when my UF GPA was a little lower. Looked much better on the resume.

I am glad for that Internet class though, for my final class project – I had to “create” a web page, so I retooled my Beatleg site using CSS and Java, and made it much more accessible and readable. Still using that redesigned page today. And, although I don’t sell them anymore, I wrote my cd sales customer database during my “internship” with Raytheon. So at least I made some money off of all my loafing…

Having just outed myself as a charlatan, I must say in my defense that I worked very hard in school… no… I’m for real… I did. Honest.

Dave out.

fiery, but no fire

this word sucks... like your mom
Tuesday, w00t. First off, I was up too late last night, but I did find a link that was so funny I was laughing out loud while the rest of the house was sound asleep. If you’ve never been to Something Awful, you’re missing out – it’s a pretty funny site. I happened upon this article last night, and I was rolling. It’s an old writeup about some first impressions playing the PC game “The Sims.” Yeah, it’s kinda long – but I thought it was worth it. If you don’t laugh, you’re dumb. If you dig the author’s writing, you might wanna check out this one too.

I’ve decided that I want a movie computer. You know, the ones where every task, however minimal, is visually exciting? I mean, even checking e-mail on some movie computers involves a 3D mail envelope zooming out of your inbox and bursting into a firework before showing it’s contents. Passwords are always stored in a file called “secret_passwords,” and “erase hard drive” is a valid DOS command. Also, everything is so much more intuitive – if the computer is tied to a bomb that is about to explode, there’s a nice screen with an animation of a slowly burning fuse leading to one of those Spy-vs.-Spy style bowling-ball bombs (and usually an input box marked clearly as “last chance abort code: enter here.”) When you load a virus, actual little pathogen-shaped cartoon things fill the screen as they eat data. When the virus is done, the computer screen flashes a red skull and crossbones to let you know you’re in trouble. There is no Windows in movie computers, they use some crazy movie-PC-GUI that is all spinny and shiny and pretty. You can execute almost any sequence of tasks, regardless of complexity, with the press of a single key. You can apparently zoom in on and simultaneously enhance images by pressing ‘K.’, and at the same time hack into the Pentagon with a USB stick. One time on Alias they even flew to Switzerland to retrieve a “data packet,” they brought it back in a paper bag… huh?

My movie computer would be so awesome. I would put negatives in the floppy drive, and have them print as high-res photos from my printer – all without pressing a key or moving the mouse. There would be commands like “porn: go!,” and “download good music” that would launch from DOS into some crazy fly-by animations of my requests traveling the internet and scooping up the data I want (kind of like Chopper Command, but cooler looking).

I don’t like that the word “fiery” doesn’t contain the word “fire.” And with that, I’m out.

terminal nerds

i chose trash, because this entry is mostly garbage collection to close the week
Well, I got a couple projects that are coming to a close. The Cast of Characters page is nearly done, with some rearranging, some new pictures, and more text, it’s right about ready to be published. I’m holding out for a couple more pictures and then I’ll pull the trigger and upload it. Also, Anthony and I nearly finished the FCG last night (with some help from Ben). While at Ant’s working on the ghost, I somehow (in the course of one weeknight, mind you) managed to: douse my cellphone in beer (I pulled the tap myself while holding the phone underneath… what?), pop myself in the stomach with a wire coathanger (I checked, it left a mark), and have so little fuel in my truck that I wasn’t able to start it until I coasted off Anthony’s sloped driveway and into the flat street. Anyway, we got the entire motor-assembly done (the marionette part), and I built the armature for the ghost itself. Now it’s up to my artistic side to craft up a nice apparition to fill out the armature. I say the project will be completed over the weekend.

Melissa didn’t get home until like midnight last night, and then went back in this morning at like 5:30am. Oh, for those who don’t know, Melissa is living with us while she awaits the availability of her new apartment here in California. Actually, I guess today is her last day, which means I no longer live with two women.. which is so awesome… I think I am crying a little bit right now. Either way, I’m glad my job doesn’t require that much from me. I’m all for working, but only as a means to an end. When I win the lottery, I’m done with the 9-5 scene.

In other news, I modified the ASP script for the comments page, so that the comments are now sorted from the top down (new comments added under the last ones). It now has the more familiar comment look of sites like Slashdot and Fark, since the whole “first comment at the bottom” thing was irking me. I know you probably don’t care, but I love projects… remember?! Speaking of Fark, I lifted this link from them for the blog, because I got such a kick out of it. I never even knew there was such a thing as “LARPing,” but let me be the first to say… “that looks kinda cool.” Oh no, I mean… what terminal nerds… yeah… yup.

OK, time to get ready for the weekend. I got a nice one planned. Some possible 4x4ing again, helping Steve and Ragan erect a sweet gazebo over their new spa, and fashioning some tombstones out of foam insulation sheeting. See ya on Monday.

hang my crank

needed something visually stimuating
Work on the “cast of characters” page is nearly done. I was set back a bit because I opened the file in Word to do a quick spell-check, and accidentally hit the “save” button… man, nothing can mangle clean HTML like MS Word can. Took my code and turned it into a jumbled mess of style statements and javascript. Owell, I rewrote it and am back on track. Look for the page soon.

Read on Pitchfork today that the Strokes posted a new single from their upcoming sophomore effort (stupid flash site prevents me from linking the tune here). I downloaded it and it sounds pretty good, I’m really looking forward to hearing the album. A lot of people as me where I find all the crazy music I listen to. I thought I’d pass on some good starter-sites so y’all can get learned up on indie. If you wanna learn by immersion, head over to the #1 internet radio station for indie – 3wk. They have a free indie stream, and a badass classic underground stream too (also free). Also, check out Pitchfork for all the latest news and underground rumblings. There, I gave away my secrets. Go forth and spread the indie to all the creatures of the world.

The other day we were building the wall, and I wanted to make sure we weren’t stacking bricks above the 3ft mark (the highest you can go without a permit). Steve said that if we wanted to be absolutely sure it was 3ft tall, he could stand on top and “hang my crank down” to check it. “Crank.” I thought that was hilarious. Know why? Because the ‘k’ sound is comedy gold. No, I’m for real. ‘K’ words are inherently funny. Donkey, monkey, crack, it’s a proven fact.

Did you guys know Fonzie can punch a car and make it work? He’s that cool.

I guess this isn’t even a real entry, but just some rambling. I have some stuff in the queue for the next entry, as I’m hoping to do an update on the backyard page to show the progress we’ve made. Until then, peace out.