Last night the Mrs. went to sleep super early, and I found myself watching TV a little after 9. I was about to switch over to the Red Sox game when I was seized with a snack attack. A quick spin around the kitchen confirmed that no suitable snacks were on the premises, so I put on my shoes and headed to the nearest grocery store, the Foodmaster at the intersection of route 60 and route 28 in Medford.
What I had in mind was some butterscotch pecan cookies that they bake on the premises, but unfortunately they were out, which was not surprising since it was about 30 minutes before closing time. I settled for some Ben & Jerry's. As I made my way around the nearly empty store, it reminded me of an idea I had years ago.
A long time ago, let's say 11 years just because today's the 11th, we were on our way home from somewhere on a Friday night, and remembered that we needed something at the store. It was a little after midnight when we walked into the same Stop & Shop where we now do most of our regular food shopping. We had never been there quite so late, and the store was bustling with restocking activity, but had hardly any customers. Interestingly, they had also turned off about half of the overhead fluorescent lights, giving the store a much cozier ambiance than usual.
This was right around the time that bowling alleys started doing the "atomic bowling" thing, with the colored lights, blasting music, and blacklight-glowing pins and balls. Almost instantly my brain went, "Atomic shopping!" Late-night grocery shopping with a dash of socializing mixed in, or vice versa, depending on your point of view. It seemed like an obvious and cool idea to me, but let's face it, it's usually easy to impress yourself.
Several years later, through a combination of circumstances I found myself working at Trader Joe's on Memorial Drive in Cambridge. One evening I was helping a coworker set up one of the wine tastings and the atomic shopping idea popped back into my head. The wheels started turning: a lot of young, single people shop at this store. Why not play to that audience? Add some festive lighting, hook a DJ into the store's sound system, sample some appetizers along with the wine. Turn Friday nights at Trader Joe's into a singles party.
I actually proposed this idea to the manager, but he was not receptive. Your loss, I thought, you'd probably get some extra business out of it. But that's how it goes when you're an underling. I still think this idea would have merit in the right circumstances, so if anyone who is reading this is in a position to make it happen, feel free to borrow my idea. And send me pictures.
11 October 2008
10 October 2008
Random Bits of Randomness
--I got smart and stayed home yesterday to try to shake my cold. I really should have stayed home on Wednesday, but I felt like I needed to get to a certain point in my monthly work process. Also, I have determined that the decongestant that now comes in most multi-symptom cold medications is for shit. In the aftermath of widespread thefts of Sudafed for use in making crystal meth, companies rushed to reformulate their cold products. That's kind of pointless, since a multi-symptom pill contains more acetaminophen than anything else, and now we're left with cold products that do a lousy job of decongesting. I'm feeling better, but maybe I would have felt better sooner if I'd taken something more effective.
--This morning I headed to the cafeteria looking forward to my weekly Friday treat, an egg and cheese sandwich on an English muffin with either sausage or bacon. I stopped eating lunch from this cafeteria a long time ago, but I love their breakfast sandwiches. Usually there are a bunch of them pre-made and sitting in a bin on a warming plate, but today the bin was empty. Sometimes this happens, and the person working the grill behind the counter will make me a fresh one. Today I asked the person for a sandwich, and she told me they had run out of English muffins. Oh, the humanity! Fortunately I've started keeping some breakfasty food at the office, so I had to make do with pineapple chunks and a Quaker Oatmeal to Go breakfast bar.
--Recently I was in the TJ Maxx at Downtown Crossing. I didn't find anything interesting, but on my way out of the store I got to witness something amusing. The store is above street level, so you have to ride an escalator up to it. The down escalator was not operating, so I started walking down. I'd gone about a third of the way when I heard a "Hello?" from above me. I didn't think it could have anything to do with me, so I kept walking. Again, "Hello?" slightly louder, then, "Miss?" That got the attention of the woman in front of me, who stopped and looked up. Since I couldn't keep walking, I looked up too. One of the store clerks was there, leaning over the railing and holding something in her hand. She said, "You forgot these!" and waved a small black item, then dropped it. The woman in front of me caught what appeared to be a pair of socks or tights, looked back up and said, "Thank you!" and proceeded on her way.
--This morning I headed to the cafeteria looking forward to my weekly Friday treat, an egg and cheese sandwich on an English muffin with either sausage or bacon. I stopped eating lunch from this cafeteria a long time ago, but I love their breakfast sandwiches. Usually there are a bunch of them pre-made and sitting in a bin on a warming plate, but today the bin was empty. Sometimes this happens, and the person working the grill behind the counter will make me a fresh one. Today I asked the person for a sandwich, and she told me they had run out of English muffins. Oh, the humanity! Fortunately I've started keeping some breakfasty food at the office, so I had to make do with pineapple chunks and a Quaker Oatmeal to Go breakfast bar.
--Recently I was in the TJ Maxx at Downtown Crossing. I didn't find anything interesting, but on my way out of the store I got to witness something amusing. The store is above street level, so you have to ride an escalator up to it. The down escalator was not operating, so I started walking down. I'd gone about a third of the way when I heard a "Hello?" from above me. I didn't think it could have anything to do with me, so I kept walking. Again, "Hello?" slightly louder, then, "Miss?" That got the attention of the woman in front of me, who stopped and looked up. Since I couldn't keep walking, I looked up too. One of the store clerks was there, leaning over the railing and holding something in her hand. She said, "You forgot these!" and waved a small black item, then dropped it. The woman in front of me caught what appeared to be a pair of socks or tights, looked back up and said, "Thank you!" and proceeded on her way.
08 October 2008
Oh Goody, A Cold
The week started off well: the weather was nice, I had lunch on Monday with A Proper Bostonian (something we've been trying to accomplish for a while now), and I love October in general, so it tends to put me in a good mood.
Then on Monday night, it crept up on me. I kept waking up during the night, unable to breathe because my head was so congested. My throat hurt. Yesterday I felt achy and run down in general, and today all of these are worse. Lucky me.
I don't get sick often, and I'm usually pretty careful about potential germ exposure, but when you ride public transit to and from work, there's only so much you can do. An alternate theory is that I was playing with the dog on Sunday afternoon, and her slimy nose accidentally made contact with my lips, yecch. Who knows, though, and does it really matter now? Bottom line: I'm sick.
I need to get to a drugstore to lay in a supply of hand sanitizer, pocket packs of tissues, Airborne, and whatever cold medication looks like it will do the best job. And I really feel like I need some sleep. If I get enough done at work today, I could use a sick day tomorrow and rest.
I really need to get better, because I have a ticket to see The Feelies on Saturday night. They got back together after 17 years, and it's probably been closer to 20 since I saw them live, so I ain't missin' this show.
Then on Monday night, it crept up on me. I kept waking up during the night, unable to breathe because my head was so congested. My throat hurt. Yesterday I felt achy and run down in general, and today all of these are worse. Lucky me.
I don't get sick often, and I'm usually pretty careful about potential germ exposure, but when you ride public transit to and from work, there's only so much you can do. An alternate theory is that I was playing with the dog on Sunday afternoon, and her slimy nose accidentally made contact with my lips, yecch. Who knows, though, and does it really matter now? Bottom line: I'm sick.
I need to get to a drugstore to lay in a supply of hand sanitizer, pocket packs of tissues, Airborne, and whatever cold medication looks like it will do the best job. And I really feel like I need some sleep. If I get enough done at work today, I could use a sick day tomorrow and rest.
I really need to get better, because I have a ticket to see The Feelies on Saturday night. They got back together after 17 years, and it's probably been closer to 20 since I saw them live, so I ain't missin' this show.
06 October 2008
Location Shot
The Mrs. was supposed to go to Brooklyn this weekend (without me) to see a friend and her new baby, but she (the Mrs.) wasn't feeling too great on Friday, so she canceled her plans because she didn't want to chance making the baby sick, and she probably wouldn't have been much in the mood for driving anyway. So we stayed close to home, catching up on TV and such.
I finally got around to watching this past week's episode of Fringe. It's managing to be just interesting enough to keep me watching. However, since the show is so reminiscent of The X-Files, it made me realize that, for all the confusion fostered by that show's intricate, arcane, and ultimately ridiculous "mythology," the stand-alone episodes generally attempted to offer some sort of explanation, however far-fetched it may have been, for the mysterious occurrences being investigated by Agents Mulder and Scully. By contrast, Fringe has made few such attempts so far, while presenting a growing array of unanswered questions that will quickly become tedious and annoying if answers are not forthcoming soon.
But the only reason I mention the show now is because of my previous discussion of its Boston fakery. As it happened, there was an actual shot of Boston in the most recent episode: a night shot from above of the North Station area. The train tracks, Garden, and Tobin Bridge loop ramps were clearly visible, and the city looked all bright and twinkly. Hopefully they'll use more of these shots, and start explaining some things as well.
I finally got around to watching this past week's episode of Fringe. It's managing to be just interesting enough to keep me watching. However, since the show is so reminiscent of The X-Files, it made me realize that, for all the confusion fostered by that show's intricate, arcane, and ultimately ridiculous "mythology," the stand-alone episodes generally attempted to offer some sort of explanation, however far-fetched it may have been, for the mysterious occurrences being investigated by Agents Mulder and Scully. By contrast, Fringe has made few such attempts so far, while presenting a growing array of unanswered questions that will quickly become tedious and annoying if answers are not forthcoming soon.
But the only reason I mention the show now is because of my previous discussion of its Boston fakery. As it happened, there was an actual shot of Boston in the most recent episode: a night shot from above of the North Station area. The train tracks, Garden, and Tobin Bridge loop ramps were clearly visible, and the city looked all bright and twinkly. Hopefully they'll use more of these shots, and start explaining some things as well.
03 October 2008
Damn My Feeble Brain!
Today I managed to forget my glasses. You might wonder how that's possible, since I wear them all the time. When I took the dog out before leaving for work, I put on my (prescription) sunglasses, and put my regular glasses and their case on the edge of my desk, right next to the chair where I had set my bag.
We came back from our walk and I got the dog her breakfast. In order to receive her food, she has to go into her crate and lie down. Today she decided to be stubborn about it and wouldn't lie down. It's pretty much the only thing she can do to express her displeasure at being left home alone all day.
Generally at this point in the morning I'm ready to run out the door, so this sort of glitch tends to make me a bit flustered. If I leave the room for long enough, London will generally get tired of standing and will lie down on her own (especially if I leave the food sitting on top of the crate), but I didn't have time to wait around for that today, so I sort of helped her along a little, gave her her food, and left, but the whole thing was enough of a distraction to cause me to forget the glasses; since my sunglasses were still on my face, I could still see what I was doing, more or less.
Clearly I should have slipped the glasses and case into my bag, but it's not as bad as it sounds. I spend the bulk of my day sitting in my cube looking at my computer, and when I'm working at the computer I take off my glasses anyway. I do the same thing when I'm reading: if something is close enough, I don't need my glasses. The office is familiar enough and the lighting is good enough so I can walk around safely, but for things getting around outside and crossing the street, they are rather necessary
Hopefully I'll make it home before it gets dark. And I think I have a really old pair somewhere at home that I can bring in to keep here, just in case I do something this stupid again...
We came back from our walk and I got the dog her breakfast. In order to receive her food, she has to go into her crate and lie down. Today she decided to be stubborn about it and wouldn't lie down. It's pretty much the only thing she can do to express her displeasure at being left home alone all day.
Generally at this point in the morning I'm ready to run out the door, so this sort of glitch tends to make me a bit flustered. If I leave the room for long enough, London will generally get tired of standing and will lie down on her own (especially if I leave the food sitting on top of the crate), but I didn't have time to wait around for that today, so I sort of helped her along a little, gave her her food, and left, but the whole thing was enough of a distraction to cause me to forget the glasses; since my sunglasses were still on my face, I could still see what I was doing, more or less.
Clearly I should have slipped the glasses and case into my bag, but it's not as bad as it sounds. I spend the bulk of my day sitting in my cube looking at my computer, and when I'm working at the computer I take off my glasses anyway. I do the same thing when I'm reading: if something is close enough, I don't need my glasses. The office is familiar enough and the lighting is good enough so I can walk around safely, but for things getting around outside and crossing the street, they are rather necessary
Hopefully I'll make it home before it gets dark. And I think I have a really old pair somewhere at home that I can bring in to keep here, just in case I do something this stupid again...
02 October 2008
Wrinkle-Free
Recently I happened to be looking through an issue of Details magazine. I don't normally read Details, as it's aimed primarily at guys in their 20s, which I haven't been for a long time now. But I was waiting for the Mrs. and the magazine happened to be there, so I flipped through it.
Details is full of contradictions. On the one hand, it aims to give guys advice on post-college living and becoming more grown up, but on the other hand, it tells them things like it's okay to just wear your khakis wrinkled. I suppose it depends on where you're wearing them. I try not to iron on weekends if I can help it, but sometimes it's necessary.
The wrinkled look has been popular for a while, though I'm still not sure if it's going to run its course or become part of the zeitgeist. I can recall seeing instructions a few years ago, either on the Polo or J. Crew web site, for how to get your shirts to have a just-so wrinkled look. The basic idea was--and I swear I am not making this up--to take your wet shirt out of the washing machine and tie it in a knot, then put it into the dryer. Now you don't even have to work that hard; some clothes come pre-crinkled.
I have to take issue with this attitude. I'm not looking to portray myself as some avuncular advice-giver, but this is just stupid. I have no love for ironing, but I prefer to present a persona to the world that does not look like it slept in its clothes. If you're doing construction or working at a used CD store, you can wear pretty much whatever you feel like. But if you have any kind of "real" job, or hope to get one some day, you need to project a certain degree of respectability, regardless of how indolent you really are. You have to be able to fake it; that's what it really means to be a grown-up.
Other than early-morning dog-walking, when I leave the house I ask myself: if I witness an accident or something and end up being interviewed on TV, would I be embarrassed by my appearance? Would my mother be embarrassed on my behalf? Think about it. Why does it seem like the eyewitness who gets interviewed on camera is always the person wearing a dirty T-shirt with the sleeves cut off?
If you fold your pants flat when they come out of the dryer and then stack them flat instead of hanging them, some of the wrinkling works out on its own. And how long does it take to iron pants anyway? About five minutes, if that. Or you could go ahead and try the wrinkle-free kind, if you must. Personally I can't stand the feel of whatever fun chemical compounds they're using to treat the fabric. It feels like I'm wearing laminated pants.
Shirts take longer to iron, yes. Lots of oddly-shaped weird bits. You could try having your shirts done at a cleaners (or "cleansers" as it's often called around here, for whatever reason), but this is expensive, and you risk damage, loss, and the dreaded "shiny shirt syndrome." If your shirts are all white or light-colored this is less of an issue, but if you like darker colors, you risk looking like your shirt has been laminated, too.
I've been told fabric softener is the answer, but I've never tried it. No particular reason, just never have. It was never used in our house when I was growing up, so I never learned to use it in my own laundry. Environmentally, it's probably a toss-up between the added chemicals in the wash water vs. the electricity needed to run the iron. But if you think like that too much, your head will start to hurt. I suppose I should try using fabric softener, in the name of research, to see if it makes any noticeable difference in my clothes.
The other suggestion that I think has merit comes from GQ's Style Guy, Glenn O'Brien, a man of considerable knowledge and taste. He suggests using a hand steamer because "life is too short" to iron. This is something else I may need to pursue. Do any of you esteemed readers use a steamer? Fabric softener? Other hints, tips, suggestions?
Details is full of contradictions. On the one hand, it aims to give guys advice on post-college living and becoming more grown up, but on the other hand, it tells them things like it's okay to just wear your khakis wrinkled. I suppose it depends on where you're wearing them. I try not to iron on weekends if I can help it, but sometimes it's necessary.
The wrinkled look has been popular for a while, though I'm still not sure if it's going to run its course or become part of the zeitgeist. I can recall seeing instructions a few years ago, either on the Polo or J. Crew web site, for how to get your shirts to have a just-so wrinkled look. The basic idea was--and I swear I am not making this up--to take your wet shirt out of the washing machine and tie it in a knot, then put it into the dryer. Now you don't even have to work that hard; some clothes come pre-crinkled.
I have to take issue with this attitude. I'm not looking to portray myself as some avuncular advice-giver, but this is just stupid. I have no love for ironing, but I prefer to present a persona to the world that does not look like it slept in its clothes. If you're doing construction or working at a used CD store, you can wear pretty much whatever you feel like. But if you have any kind of "real" job, or hope to get one some day, you need to project a certain degree of respectability, regardless of how indolent you really are. You have to be able to fake it; that's what it really means to be a grown-up.
Other than early-morning dog-walking, when I leave the house I ask myself: if I witness an accident or something and end up being interviewed on TV, would I be embarrassed by my appearance? Would my mother be embarrassed on my behalf? Think about it. Why does it seem like the eyewitness who gets interviewed on camera is always the person wearing a dirty T-shirt with the sleeves cut off?
If you fold your pants flat when they come out of the dryer and then stack them flat instead of hanging them, some of the wrinkling works out on its own. And how long does it take to iron pants anyway? About five minutes, if that. Or you could go ahead and try the wrinkle-free kind, if you must. Personally I can't stand the feel of whatever fun chemical compounds they're using to treat the fabric. It feels like I'm wearing laminated pants.
Shirts take longer to iron, yes. Lots of oddly-shaped weird bits. You could try having your shirts done at a cleaners (or "cleansers" as it's often called around here, for whatever reason), but this is expensive, and you risk damage, loss, and the dreaded "shiny shirt syndrome." If your shirts are all white or light-colored this is less of an issue, but if you like darker colors, you risk looking like your shirt has been laminated, too.
I've been told fabric softener is the answer, but I've never tried it. No particular reason, just never have. It was never used in our house when I was growing up, so I never learned to use it in my own laundry. Environmentally, it's probably a toss-up between the added chemicals in the wash water vs. the electricity needed to run the iron. But if you think like that too much, your head will start to hurt. I suppose I should try using fabric softener, in the name of research, to see if it makes any noticeable difference in my clothes.
The other suggestion that I think has merit comes from GQ's Style Guy, Glenn O'Brien, a man of considerable knowledge and taste. He suggests using a hand steamer because "life is too short" to iron. This is something else I may need to pursue. Do any of you esteemed readers use a steamer? Fabric softener? Other hints, tips, suggestions?
29 September 2008
Times Two
Today marks an anniversary of a different sort: two years since I started this blog. In that time I've done just shy of 275 posts, and I probably could have made it to 300 if I'd been slightly less lazy. But it's not all about quantity. Mine is just one voice out of the millions out there in the blogosphere, but it's there, and that's really the point.
Since I started this, two of my friends have started their own blogs, and I'd like to think I had something, however small, to do with that. If any of you have the inclination, if you've been thinking about blogging but haven't taken that first step, I would urge you to just go ahead and start writing. It couldn't be easier to set up a blog. Don't get hung up on what to call it or what template to use; you can always change that stuff later.
I can't say for sure how long I'll keep doing this, but I don't feel even close to finished, so I imagine it's going to be a while. Thanks for reading.
Since I started this, two of my friends have started their own blogs, and I'd like to think I had something, however small, to do with that. If any of you have the inclination, if you've been thinking about blogging but haven't taken that first step, I would urge you to just go ahead and start writing. It couldn't be easier to set up a blog. Don't get hung up on what to call it or what template to use; you can always change that stuff later.
I can't say for sure how long I'll keep doing this, but I don't feel even close to finished, so I imagine it's going to be a while. Thanks for reading.
28 September 2008
Happy Anniversary
On Friday the Mrs. and I celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary. These days that seems like a big deal, though perhaps it shouldn't be. We marked the occasion by having dinner at Flora in Arlington. Maybe we should have done something fancier or more elaborate, but it just isn't our style.
We had a low-key wedding, both because we wanted it that way and because we paid for it ourselves. The important thing was that our family and friends were there to celebrate with us. So we rented a historic house owned by the town of Arlington, which turned out to be a very nice and appropriate setting. We bought many cases of wine at a New Hampshire liquor store, hired a friend to DJ and an attorney/justice of the peace to officiate, and had the food catered by an Italian restaurant. Our guests had to line up to fill their plates buffet-style, but they didn't seem to mind.
We are planning on taking a nice vacation as our way of celebrating, and we chose to bank this year's tax refunds and our government stimulus check toward it, but we have not yet decided where to go or when. Suggestions are welcome.
We had a low-key wedding, both because we wanted it that way and because we paid for it ourselves. The important thing was that our family and friends were there to celebrate with us. So we rented a historic house owned by the town of Arlington, which turned out to be a very nice and appropriate setting. We bought many cases of wine at a New Hampshire liquor store, hired a friend to DJ and an attorney/justice of the peace to officiate, and had the food catered by an Italian restaurant. Our guests had to line up to fill their plates buffet-style, but they didn't seem to mind.
We are planning on taking a nice vacation as our way of celebrating, and we chose to bank this year's tax refunds and our government stimulus check toward it, but we have not yet decided where to go or when. Suggestions are welcome.
25 September 2008
Get Fluffed
This weekend is the annual "What the Fluff?" festival in Somerville's Union Square. I have yet to attend this fine event, but as a lifelong Fluff lover, I feel a near-irresistible urge to go, so I'm getting my act together this year.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with Fluff, it's a thick, marshmallowish spread that was invented in 1917 in Union Square. It's used in many recipes, but is perhaps best known and best loved as a sandwich companion to peanut butter, which is known as a Fluffernutter. It's most definitely a New England thing. In my experience, people from other parts of the country are often (needlessly) scared of Fluff.
The festival is scheduled for Saturday, September 27th from 4 to 7 PM. Of course, this being New England, we're supposedly in for some stormy weather over the next couple of days. The organizers have yet to decide whether or not to move the Fluffage to its rain date, Sunday the 28th. They say they are going to watch the forecasts and decide on Friday, so check that link tomorrow for the updated info.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with Fluff, it's a thick, marshmallowish spread that was invented in 1917 in Union Square. It's used in many recipes, but is perhaps best known and best loved as a sandwich companion to peanut butter, which is known as a Fluffernutter. It's most definitely a New England thing. In my experience, people from other parts of the country are often (needlessly) scared of Fluff.
The festival is scheduled for Saturday, September 27th from 4 to 7 PM. Of course, this being New England, we're supposedly in for some stormy weather over the next couple of days. The organizers have yet to decide whether or not to move the Fluffage to its rain date, Sunday the 28th. They say they are going to watch the forecasts and decide on Friday, so check that link tomorrow for the updated info.
24 September 2008
No Shoes for You
For someone who likes to shop as much as I do, and who owns as many pairs of shoes as I do, it's somewhat unusual that I have never purchased anything from Zappos. But it's not because I haven't tried to. On several occasions I have found shoes I wanted on their site, only to be disappointed when they did not have my size.
In the most recent episode, I was looking around for some casual trail-type sneakers. These are good shoes to wear on weekends if the weather is iffy, but I'm not a runner so I don't need anything overly technical. I have a pair of New Balance shoes of this type that I have not had long, maybe 18 months, and suddenly whenever I wear them they are extremely uncomfortable, so I feel like I should cut my losses and replace them.
I spent part of my lunch hour poking around sites like Zappos, looking at sneakers. I found some that I liked, and of course they didn't have my size. But the thing about this that's particularly galling is that Zappos does not tell you the inventory status until after you have clicked the "add to cart" button. Only then do you learn that the size or color you wanted isn't available.
From a customer service standpoint, this isn't an especially winning practice. More than a decade into the era of e-commerce, it is certainly possible to have accurate inventory information and to provide it to customers. Plenty of other web sites do it. I don't know why Zappos chooses to do it the way they do, and they seem to do just about everything else right, so it's puzzling.
I was eventually distracted by a different style of sneaker that Zappos also did not have in my size, so I went and bought them somewhere else.
In the most recent episode, I was looking around for some casual trail-type sneakers. These are good shoes to wear on weekends if the weather is iffy, but I'm not a runner so I don't need anything overly technical. I have a pair of New Balance shoes of this type that I have not had long, maybe 18 months, and suddenly whenever I wear them they are extremely uncomfortable, so I feel like I should cut my losses and replace them.
I spent part of my lunch hour poking around sites like Zappos, looking at sneakers. I found some that I liked, and of course they didn't have my size. But the thing about this that's particularly galling is that Zappos does not tell you the inventory status until after you have clicked the "add to cart" button. Only then do you learn that the size or color you wanted isn't available.
From a customer service standpoint, this isn't an especially winning practice. More than a decade into the era of e-commerce, it is certainly possible to have accurate inventory information and to provide it to customers. Plenty of other web sites do it. I don't know why Zappos chooses to do it the way they do, and they seem to do just about everything else right, so it's puzzling.
I was eventually distracted by a different style of sneaker that Zappos also did not have in my size, so I went and bought them somewhere else.
22 September 2008
Emmys Post-Mortem: Awards Healthy, Show DOA
Last night was the 60th Emmy awards show, broadcast on ABC. I generally don't watch award shows, though the Golden Globes tends to be a bit more lively and interesting because it's a dinner and everyone's drinking. But since I spent the time writing up my Emmy nomination observations a couple of months ago, I felt somewhat obligated to watch the show. Yeesh, what a waste of three hours that was.
It was mind-numbingly bad, due mostly to the conceit of having the five nominees for best reality show host serve as the host of the awards show itself. Wait, they give out an Emmy for reality show host now? Seriously? What a useless waste of whatever metal those statues are made of. Their collective "bit" was that they didn't have any material prepared, and it fell flat. It was clear that the audience thought the hosts were just fooling around, but the joke was on them, and those of us watching at home: they really didn't have anything prepared.
That right there, inside the first ten minutes of the show, should have warned me to change the channel or go find something else to do with my time. But I didn't, to my regret. A bit later on we were "treated" to singer Josh Groban (who is he, again? I've heard of him but I have no idea what sort of stuff he does) performing a medley of TV show theme songs. I hit the mute button and went to the kitchen to get some ice cream. Next year I'll just wait until the show is over and read the list of winners online.
With regard to the shows that won the awards, today the critics are noting how the majority of the big winners were shows on cable networks, with the exceptions of supporting actress in a comedy (Jean Smart for ABC's Samantha Who?) and NBC's great 30 Rock's wins for best actor, best actress, and best comedy. 30 Rock is always going to be an underdog in the ratings, because it lacks the mainstream appeal of workplace comedies like The Drew Carey Show or Mary Tyler Moore. It's point of view is deliberately absurd, and much funnier for it, but as long as it collects awards and critical praise, NBC will probably keep it around.
By now, a lot of people have heard the story of how Matthew Weiner, the creator of critical darling and last night's best drama winner Mad Men, pitched the show to HBO when he was working as a writer on The Sopranos, and never got any kind of response from them, not even a rejection. Surely HBO's execs are kicking themselves now. Awards and buzz don't translate into revenue in quite as direct a way as ratings do, but you can be fairly sure that AMC is planning to start charging more for ad time on Mad Men now that it's the network's signature show.
And it's not always entirely about ratings. A show like Damages might draw two or three times as many viewers if it aired on one of the big broadcast networks, but when people who do watch it start talking about it to their friends, and then people who don't watch the show see Glenn Close win an Emmy, it raises the cultural profile of the FX network along with the show.
The proliferation of drama shows on cable networks is a clear sign that the television audience is becoming more fragmented and less of a mass audience than, say, a decade ago. But more importantly, it shows that quality shows are finding audiences on cable channels, and being recognized by the academy for their work. I believe this is due at least in part to the networks' over-reliance on reality shows. How ironic, then, that the networks fill much of their schedules with this debris, then have to sit by and watch as cable channels like HBO and even basic cable networks like AMC and FX reap the most prestigious awards.
To be fair, there are reality shows on cable too. There are plenty of people who are happy to watch reality TV; my mother is a huge fan of The Amazing Race, and my understanding is that it's better than most other reality shows. But there are also plenty of people like me who prefer scripted TV, and will seek out the thoughtful, entertaining shows on whatever networks they air.
It was mind-numbingly bad, due mostly to the conceit of having the five nominees for best reality show host serve as the host of the awards show itself. Wait, they give out an Emmy for reality show host now? Seriously? What a useless waste of whatever metal those statues are made of. Their collective "bit" was that they didn't have any material prepared, and it fell flat. It was clear that the audience thought the hosts were just fooling around, but the joke was on them, and those of us watching at home: they really didn't have anything prepared.
That right there, inside the first ten minutes of the show, should have warned me to change the channel or go find something else to do with my time. But I didn't, to my regret. A bit later on we were "treated" to singer Josh Groban (who is he, again? I've heard of him but I have no idea what sort of stuff he does) performing a medley of TV show theme songs. I hit the mute button and went to the kitchen to get some ice cream. Next year I'll just wait until the show is over and read the list of winners online.
With regard to the shows that won the awards, today the critics are noting how the majority of the big winners were shows on cable networks, with the exceptions of supporting actress in a comedy (Jean Smart for ABC's Samantha Who?) and NBC's great 30 Rock's wins for best actor, best actress, and best comedy. 30 Rock is always going to be an underdog in the ratings, because it lacks the mainstream appeal of workplace comedies like The Drew Carey Show or Mary Tyler Moore. It's point of view is deliberately absurd, and much funnier for it, but as long as it collects awards and critical praise, NBC will probably keep it around.
By now, a lot of people have heard the story of how Matthew Weiner, the creator of critical darling and last night's best drama winner Mad Men, pitched the show to HBO when he was working as a writer on The Sopranos, and never got any kind of response from them, not even a rejection. Surely HBO's execs are kicking themselves now. Awards and buzz don't translate into revenue in quite as direct a way as ratings do, but you can be fairly sure that AMC is planning to start charging more for ad time on Mad Men now that it's the network's signature show.
And it's not always entirely about ratings. A show like Damages might draw two or three times as many viewers if it aired on one of the big broadcast networks, but when people who do watch it start talking about it to their friends, and then people who don't watch the show see Glenn Close win an Emmy, it raises the cultural profile of the FX network along with the show.
The proliferation of drama shows on cable networks is a clear sign that the television audience is becoming more fragmented and less of a mass audience than, say, a decade ago. But more importantly, it shows that quality shows are finding audiences on cable channels, and being recognized by the academy for their work. I believe this is due at least in part to the networks' over-reliance on reality shows. How ironic, then, that the networks fill much of their schedules with this debris, then have to sit by and watch as cable channels like HBO and even basic cable networks like AMC and FX reap the most prestigious awards.
To be fair, there are reality shows on cable too. There are plenty of people who are happy to watch reality TV; my mother is a huge fan of The Amazing Race, and my understanding is that it's better than most other reality shows. But there are also plenty of people like me who prefer scripted TV, and will seek out the thoughtful, entertaining shows on whatever networks they air.
19 September 2008
A Proper Introduction
Well, my friend LT has made good on her threat promise to start her own blog, so I will refer to her henceforth by her new nom de blog, A Proper Bostonian. Expect intelligent opinions, sharp wit, and plenty of words about food, especially cake.
17 September 2008
Counterfeit City
September brings us the beginning of another new TV season, and you all know how much I love my TV (both the set itself and the shows). A couple of new shows have already started, including Fringe on Fox. (Fox tends to start its fall shows ahead of the other networks, because their annual coverage of the baseball playoffs consumes a significant chunk of their prime time broadcasting in October.)
Fringe comes to us courtesy of J.J. Abrams, who has also given us Alias and Lost. (He seems to like those one-word titles.) Fringe is about an FBI agent who is called upon to investigate a mysterious occurrence at our own Logan Airport that may have a supernatural connection. Though Mr. Abrams would probably be reluctant to admit it, Fringe plays an awful lot like a certain other Fox show that premiered fifteen years ago, in which two FBI agents investigated mysterious occurrences with possible supernatural connections.
But I'm not looking to compare and contrast the two shows. This morning I followed a link from a Universal Hub story to a critique of the things that Fringe has gotten wrong about greater Boston. This is absolutely not intended to malign that writer's observations; I'm merely using it as a jumping-off point for my own thoughts.
I agree that some of these inaccuracies--referring to Back Bay as having its own police department, moving Stoughton to the coastline--are fairly egregious to us locals, but as someone astutely points out in the comments, it's entirely possible that the producers and writers are not making any particular effort to be locally accurate. This can happen either due to ignorance or deliberate intent. I'm inclined to extend benefit of the doubt and assume the latter. Any fictional universe, be it in a book, a movie, or a television show, is a creation of the imagination, and while many of these bear a strong resemblance to the places we live and work, we should not be too surprised when artistic license is taken.
A New Yorker might be appalled if a writer referred to a character driving north on Broadway, but I remember seeing Dennis Lehane speak several years ago, and someone asked him about a scene in one of his books in which a car drives on Washington Street downtown, but in the opposite direction from how traffic flows on it in real life. He basically shrugged it off, saying (paraphrased) "It's my story, so I can make the traffic go however I want." So when an agent on Fringe pursues a car "south on Fenway" after leaving a hospital and we all know there are no hospitals on the portion of the Fenway that goes south, we just have to let it slide. It's probably in there so the folks watching out in Missouri can go, "Oh yeah, Fenway, like the baseball park."
There have been hundreds (thousands?) of TV shows over the years that take place in one locale but are made in a different one. It's the nature of the business; location shooting is an expensive drain on the budget of a weekly television series. What helps them conjure an authentic sense of place is a nice batch of pretty, atmospheric establishing shots: aerial views, skyline shots, nighttime vistas of twinkling lights in buildings that we all recognize. This is where Fringe comes up short in its depiction and use of Boston; I don't believe that any of the exteriors or establishing shots they have used were filmed locally. I certainly haven't recognized anything.
Sure, they're shooting the show in Toronto or one of those cities that gets used as a stand-in for many other places. Fine, but not even a few authentic cityscapes? That's kind of lazy. Send a crew out here, shoot for a few days, add some CGI snow if necessary (the pilot took take place during the winter, but who knows when it waa shot), then come back one or two more times to get some assorted shots in different seasons. Shows don't bother much with opening credit sequences anymore, but when done right, they can look great, and make our city look great as well. How about it, Fringe folks? Show us some love.
Fringe comes to us courtesy of J.J. Abrams, who has also given us Alias and Lost. (He seems to like those one-word titles.) Fringe is about an FBI agent who is called upon to investigate a mysterious occurrence at our own Logan Airport that may have a supernatural connection. Though Mr. Abrams would probably be reluctant to admit it, Fringe plays an awful lot like a certain other Fox show that premiered fifteen years ago, in which two FBI agents investigated mysterious occurrences with possible supernatural connections.
But I'm not looking to compare and contrast the two shows. This morning I followed a link from a Universal Hub story to a critique of the things that Fringe has gotten wrong about greater Boston. This is absolutely not intended to malign that writer's observations; I'm merely using it as a jumping-off point for my own thoughts.
I agree that some of these inaccuracies--referring to Back Bay as having its own police department, moving Stoughton to the coastline--are fairly egregious to us locals, but as someone astutely points out in the comments, it's entirely possible that the producers and writers are not making any particular effort to be locally accurate. This can happen either due to ignorance or deliberate intent. I'm inclined to extend benefit of the doubt and assume the latter. Any fictional universe, be it in a book, a movie, or a television show, is a creation of the imagination, and while many of these bear a strong resemblance to the places we live and work, we should not be too surprised when artistic license is taken.
A New Yorker might be appalled if a writer referred to a character driving north on Broadway, but I remember seeing Dennis Lehane speak several years ago, and someone asked him about a scene in one of his books in which a car drives on Washington Street downtown, but in the opposite direction from how traffic flows on it in real life. He basically shrugged it off, saying (paraphrased) "It's my story, so I can make the traffic go however I want." So when an agent on Fringe pursues a car "south on Fenway" after leaving a hospital and we all know there are no hospitals on the portion of the Fenway that goes south, we just have to let it slide. It's probably in there so the folks watching out in Missouri can go, "Oh yeah, Fenway, like the baseball park."
There have been hundreds (thousands?) of TV shows over the years that take place in one locale but are made in a different one. It's the nature of the business; location shooting is an expensive drain on the budget of a weekly television series. What helps them conjure an authentic sense of place is a nice batch of pretty, atmospheric establishing shots: aerial views, skyline shots, nighttime vistas of twinkling lights in buildings that we all recognize. This is where Fringe comes up short in its depiction and use of Boston; I don't believe that any of the exteriors or establishing shots they have used were filmed locally. I certainly haven't recognized anything.
Sure, they're shooting the show in Toronto or one of those cities that gets used as a stand-in for many other places. Fine, but not even a few authentic cityscapes? That's kind of lazy. Send a crew out here, shoot for a few days, add some CGI snow if necessary (the pilot took take place during the winter, but who knows when it waa shot), then come back one or two more times to get some assorted shots in different seasons. Shows don't bother much with opening credit sequences anymore, but when done right, they can look great, and make our city look great as well. How about it, Fringe folks? Show us some love.
15 September 2008
Icy, Hot
On an unseasonably warm and soupy morning like today, could there be any feeling better than getting on the bus and finding it's nearly as cold as a walk-in freezer? I don't think so.
Conversely, two of the people who work in my section of the office keep portable heaters under their desks because air conditioning makes them too cold, and they both had them cranking today, so the cool indoor air was blunted.
Conversely, two of the people who work in my section of the office keep portable heaters under their desks because air conditioning makes them too cold, and they both had them cranking today, so the cool indoor air was blunted.
13 September 2008
Kickin' It Old School
Driving through Porter Square this evening, we were stopped at the traffic light on Mass. Ave. when a guy crossed the street in front of our car. In each hand he was carrying an old-style boombox by the handle. Both of them were on and playing "Come As You Are" by Nirvana, so they were probably tuned to the same radio station. Or given the hardware, who knows? Maybe he'd copied the music onto cassettes and pushed play on both decks at the same time. Rock on, my friend, rock on.
10 September 2008
I'm Your Guy
This morning our weekly bagel breakfast was combined with a goodbye party for a departing coworker. During the event, his phone rang a couple of times, with a ringtone of the theme to the Clint Eastwood movie The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly. We all had a chuckle on that.
He ignored the calls, but it turned out his wife was trying to reach him (probably because he'd brought their baby into the office for us to admire). So eventually he answered the phone, at which point one of my other coworkers asked, "What is that from, anyway?" I offered the answer, and she replied, "You're such a... treasure trove of useless information."
I'm kind of proud of that. Everyone needs to have something to aspire to, right?
He ignored the calls, but it turned out his wife was trying to reach him (probably because he'd brought their baby into the office for us to admire). So eventually he answered the phone, at which point one of my other coworkers asked, "What is that from, anyway?" I offered the answer, and she replied, "You're such a... treasure trove of useless information."
I'm kind of proud of that. Everyone needs to have something to aspire to, right?
Spoiler Alert
This morning I was on the T, minding my own business as usual. Generally I read the paper in the morning, which occupies my mind enough so that it doesn't wander off and start listening in on other people's banal goings-on.
But for some reason, today I started picking up on the voice of the woman sitting on my left. (Maybe it's because she was right next to me; if someone is a few feet away, it's easier to tune out their voice.) She was talking to a friend sitting on her other side about the new TV show Fringe, which premiered last night. After a minute or two, I realized that she was not just talking about the show, but describing the entire episode.
These days I do most of my TV watching via TiVo, and while I did record this show last night, I haven't watched it yet. Therefore, I did not want to hear any of what happened, especially secondhand. I quickly yanked my earbuds out of my bag and got my iPod going. (I often don't listen to music in the morning, preferring to concentrate on what I'm reading; going home after work, I'm much more likely to listen to music as a way to relax.)
Meanwhile, to my right I had a guy who was sitting with his legs spread so far apart that I was forced to sit sideways, and his leg was still touching mine. What's with that? It's one of those displays of general ignorance that we tend to ignore or let slide. I was in fact just about to ask him if it was really necessary for him to sit that way, when he got up and left the train. I believe this is an example of why commuters like the single seats on trains and buses so much.
But for some reason, today I started picking up on the voice of the woman sitting on my left. (Maybe it's because she was right next to me; if someone is a few feet away, it's easier to tune out their voice.) She was talking to a friend sitting on her other side about the new TV show Fringe, which premiered last night. After a minute or two, I realized that she was not just talking about the show, but describing the entire episode.
These days I do most of my TV watching via TiVo, and while I did record this show last night, I haven't watched it yet. Therefore, I did not want to hear any of what happened, especially secondhand. I quickly yanked my earbuds out of my bag and got my iPod going. (I often don't listen to music in the morning, preferring to concentrate on what I'm reading; going home after work, I'm much more likely to listen to music as a way to relax.)
Meanwhile, to my right I had a guy who was sitting with his legs spread so far apart that I was forced to sit sideways, and his leg was still touching mine. What's with that? It's one of those displays of general ignorance that we tend to ignore or let slide. I was in fact just about to ask him if it was really necessary for him to sit that way, when he got up and left the train. I believe this is an example of why commuters like the single seats on trains and buses so much.
07 September 2008
Couchgate
Like a lot of other people in the Boston area, we live on the first floor of a two-family. Our apartment used to be the owners' unit, but after they had a baby they decided they needed more room, plus they saw the income potential of collecting monthly rent from two apartments, so they moved to New Hampshire and rented to us. Three people live upstairs, and we've been very fortunate that they are friendly, responsible people and have been excellent neighbors.
A week ago, one of the upstairs residents moved out, and someone else moved in. The one who moved out told us a couple of months ago that she was leaving, and the other two roommates posted their ad on craigslist around the beginning of July. They had all the interested applicants come by over the course of a few days, and had their decision pretty much wrapped up within a week. We did not meet their new roommate; I trust their judgment, and they are the ones who have to live directly with their choice, after all.
We were pretty busy last weekend, and it seemed like a good idea to stay out of the way anyway, so we were gone most of Sunday at one place or another. At one point we came home, around seven in the evening, and found a bunch of stuff on the sidewalk, not exactly blocking our way into the driveway, but hindering it. There were two people sitting on the steps, but it turned out that neither of them was the new roommate but rather friends who were helping him move, and they were waiting for him to come back with some additional help to move these large, bulky items.
We went back out and returned a couple of hours later. By now the stuff had been cleared from the sidewalk, but there was a black leather sofa on our front porch, and later, when I went to take the dog out, I found a piece of exercise equipment sitting by the back steps. I'm assuming that the new guy and his friends had tried to move these things up the steps and had difficulty. The older houses common around here have notoriously narrow stairways, plus the ones in this house curve around 180 degrees on each flight.
Everyone has a story like this; when we lived in our old house, we had a new mattress and box spring delivered, and the box spring would not go up our stairs; fortunately we were able to get the furniture store to swap it for the two-piece kind, but it took another week to get it.
The next day the treadmill got moved up onto the back porch, but otherwise the couch and the treadmill (at least I think that's what it was; it was folded up into a vertical position, and I didn't look at it too closely) sat outside all week. We figured the new guy was planning on selling them or giving them away. I didn't care too much about the treadmill, because it was in the back, and not really in anyone's way. But every day I'd come home from work and look at that couch and think, great, it's still here. It just looked tacky sitting there, and I was worried that the mailman would complain about it blocking access to the mailboxes (postal workers can be funny about things like that).
The Mrs. said, "I'd love to have something out on the porch to sit on, but that couch isn't made to be outdoors, so it's gonna get all gross and mildewy." So now it's been there a week, and while this past week's weather was quite beautiful, we had the remnants of a tropical storm blow through yesterday and overnight, and the couch is now rather wet. This morning when I took the dog out, I noticed that the treadmill is gone. I can't say for sure if it was still there yesterday, but I think it was. One down, one to go.
A week ago, one of the upstairs residents moved out, and someone else moved in. The one who moved out told us a couple of months ago that she was leaving, and the other two roommates posted their ad on craigslist around the beginning of July. They had all the interested applicants come by over the course of a few days, and had their decision pretty much wrapped up within a week. We did not meet their new roommate; I trust their judgment, and they are the ones who have to live directly with their choice, after all.
We were pretty busy last weekend, and it seemed like a good idea to stay out of the way anyway, so we were gone most of Sunday at one place or another. At one point we came home, around seven in the evening, and found a bunch of stuff on the sidewalk, not exactly blocking our way into the driveway, but hindering it. There were two people sitting on the steps, but it turned out that neither of them was the new roommate but rather friends who were helping him move, and they were waiting for him to come back with some additional help to move these large, bulky items.
We went back out and returned a couple of hours later. By now the stuff had been cleared from the sidewalk, but there was a black leather sofa on our front porch, and later, when I went to take the dog out, I found a piece of exercise equipment sitting by the back steps. I'm assuming that the new guy and his friends had tried to move these things up the steps and had difficulty. The older houses common around here have notoriously narrow stairways, plus the ones in this house curve around 180 degrees on each flight.
Everyone has a story like this; when we lived in our old house, we had a new mattress and box spring delivered, and the box spring would not go up our stairs; fortunately we were able to get the furniture store to swap it for the two-piece kind, but it took another week to get it.
The next day the treadmill got moved up onto the back porch, but otherwise the couch and the treadmill (at least I think that's what it was; it was folded up into a vertical position, and I didn't look at it too closely) sat outside all week. We figured the new guy was planning on selling them or giving them away. I didn't care too much about the treadmill, because it was in the back, and not really in anyone's way. But every day I'd come home from work and look at that couch and think, great, it's still here. It just looked tacky sitting there, and I was worried that the mailman would complain about it blocking access to the mailboxes (postal workers can be funny about things like that).
The Mrs. said, "I'd love to have something out on the porch to sit on, but that couch isn't made to be outdoors, so it's gonna get all gross and mildewy." So now it's been there a week, and while this past week's weather was quite beautiful, we had the remnants of a tropical storm blow through yesterday and overnight, and the couch is now rather wet. This morning when I took the dog out, I noticed that the treadmill is gone. I can't say for sure if it was still there yesterday, but I think it was. One down, one to go.
05 September 2008
Computer Blues
I'm excited because I'm getting a new computer at work, but it's sure been a dragged-out process. For about a year and a half I've been using a laptop (connected to a big LCD monitor) that used to be my old boss's computer. He got a new one and passed this one along to me. It's never given me any problems, but its performance has been a little sluggish in certain programs for some time now. And I have no real need for a laptop, because I don't have the sort of job that requires me to do work at home, so I don't need to lug the thing back and forth.
More importantly, there are one or two little tasks I need to do each month that, for whatever arcane reason, can only be done in Windows; even though I'm using Word on my Mac, there are differences from Word for Windows (that are just too ridiculous to go into, trust me), and one of them affects my work. So each month, I have to trundle down to the conference room. where there's a Windows computer setup. It's connected to a nice big Samsung LCD TV so that it can be used for presentations and stuff, which is sweet, but it's still a pain, and sometimes I have to shuttle back and forth a couple of times.
So I suggested to my boss that it might make sense to get me a new Mac, something with a lot more RAM and a bigger hard drive, that can run Windows so that I could switch back and forth on the same machine and thus work more efficiently. She presented the argument to her boss, who agreed. Naturally, these types of purchases have to align with the budget, so they told me to wait for the start of the new fiscal year, which was July 1.
July came and went, so I figured I should remind someone about it, and as I suspected, they had forgotten. After that, it took a couple more weeks for the business manager to come around and spec out what I needed, then another few days while he did the same thing for someone else in the office, then another couple of days for it to be processed...
Sorry, didn't mean to put you to sleep. My new iMac with the big-ass 24" screen actually arrived a week ago, and the two giant boxes (mine and the other person's) have been sitting in the business manager's office ever since. On Wednesday I stuck my head in and said, trying to seem really casual about it, "So, what do we have to do to get this puppy up and running?" He said, "I just put in the request to IT for them to come and set it up." Okay, I know it was a long weekend, but what were you waiting for?
Today the business manager came by and said that he was still waiting for the Windows software and the virtualization software that will work with it to arrive, because he wants IT to be able to do everything all at once, which certainly makes sense. But it's really killing me knowing the thing is just waiting there, twenty feet away from my cubicle.
Oh, and the boss's boss wants my 23" LCD monitor, since I won't need it anymore. Seems fair.
More importantly, there are one or two little tasks I need to do each month that, for whatever arcane reason, can only be done in Windows; even though I'm using Word on my Mac, there are differences from Word for Windows (that are just too ridiculous to go into, trust me), and one of them affects my work. So each month, I have to trundle down to the conference room. where there's a Windows computer setup. It's connected to a nice big Samsung LCD TV so that it can be used for presentations and stuff, which is sweet, but it's still a pain, and sometimes I have to shuttle back and forth a couple of times.
So I suggested to my boss that it might make sense to get me a new Mac, something with a lot more RAM and a bigger hard drive, that can run Windows so that I could switch back and forth on the same machine and thus work more efficiently. She presented the argument to her boss, who agreed. Naturally, these types of purchases have to align with the budget, so they told me to wait for the start of the new fiscal year, which was July 1.
July came and went, so I figured I should remind someone about it, and as I suspected, they had forgotten. After that, it took a couple more weeks for the business manager to come around and spec out what I needed, then another few days while he did the same thing for someone else in the office, then another couple of days for it to be processed...
Sorry, didn't mean to put you to sleep. My new iMac with the big-ass 24" screen actually arrived a week ago, and the two giant boxes (mine and the other person's) have been sitting in the business manager's office ever since. On Wednesday I stuck my head in and said, trying to seem really casual about it, "So, what do we have to do to get this puppy up and running?" He said, "I just put in the request to IT for them to come and set it up." Okay, I know it was a long weekend, but what were you waiting for?
Today the business manager came by and said that he was still waiting for the Windows software and the virtualization software that will work with it to arrive, because he wants IT to be able to do everything all at once, which certainly makes sense. But it's really killing me knowing the thing is just waiting there, twenty feet away from my cubicle.
Oh, and the boss's boss wants my 23" LCD monitor, since I won't need it anymore. Seems fair.
02 September 2008
Sweet Spot
A couple of weekends ago, we found our way to Flour Bakery for the first time. They have two locations, South End and Fort Point. South End is the original one, but we never find ourselves in the South End. (Does that make us bad Bostonians? Everything about the area feels pretentious and, well, New Yorkish.)
Flour's other location, which we were told opened two years ago, is tucked away on Farnsworth Street, which is off Congress Street a couple of blocks past the Children's Museum. On that Sunday afternoon the area was pretty dead, but that meant there was no line in the bakery. I sampled a chocolate cupcake with chocolate buttercream icing that was light, almost fluffy. While it wasn't cheap (most of the pastries are $2.75), it was delicious, and generously sized as well (some of you may remember the brouhaha last year about tiny, dry, pricey cupcakes). The Mrs. had a sticky bun which she declared "awesome" and said she could have eaten another one immediately.
This weekend we went back. Unfortunately there were no cupcakes, but plenty of other goodies. I tried a raspberry-filled doughnut, which was much denser and chewier than a typical doughnut, but otherwise not so special, and then Flour's version of a granola bar. This was much more special: three distinct layers, from the bottom a base very much like coffee cake; a layer of "cranberry-apricot-apple jam" according to Flour's web site), and a layer of oats, honey, walnuts, and seeds. It was about four inches long, and very substantial. I wasn't hungry again until around 8 PM that day.
So it appears we have a new favorite bakery. The Mrs. said we should make going there a regular Sunday thing, and I'm inclined to agree with her, as long as we plan on going for a walk afterward to work off whatever goodies we've had.
Flour's other location, which we were told opened two years ago, is tucked away on Farnsworth Street, which is off Congress Street a couple of blocks past the Children's Museum. On that Sunday afternoon the area was pretty dead, but that meant there was no line in the bakery. I sampled a chocolate cupcake with chocolate buttercream icing that was light, almost fluffy. While it wasn't cheap (most of the pastries are $2.75), it was delicious, and generously sized as well (some of you may remember the brouhaha last year about tiny, dry, pricey cupcakes). The Mrs. had a sticky bun which she declared "awesome" and said she could have eaten another one immediately.
This weekend we went back. Unfortunately there were no cupcakes, but plenty of other goodies. I tried a raspberry-filled doughnut, which was much denser and chewier than a typical doughnut, but otherwise not so special, and then Flour's version of a granola bar. This was much more special: three distinct layers, from the bottom a base very much like coffee cake; a layer of "cranberry-apricot-apple jam" according to Flour's web site), and a layer of oats, honey, walnuts, and seeds. It was about four inches long, and very substantial. I wasn't hungry again until around 8 PM that day.
So it appears we have a new favorite bakery. The Mrs. said we should make going there a regular Sunday thing, and I'm inclined to agree with her, as long as we plan on going for a walk afterward to work off whatever goodies we've had.
29 August 2008
Lunch Is Hell
I couldn't decide what to get for lunch today. I was already in the Longwood Galleria, but I wasn't in the mood for my usual Sami's falafel and tabooli combo, so I decided to get something from Subway. I really should know better. The line seemed short, but it took me five or six minutes to escape with a small tuna sandwich.
I'm fairly confident that hell is going to turn out to be very much like waiting in line at a Subway. There are five or six people behind the counter, and at first it appears that each one has a specific task to do as part of the assembly-line preparation of your sandwich. The first person gets the basics: what you want, and what kind of bread you want it on (they have five kinds, in case you haven't been in a Subway in a while). And that person always asks, "Do you want cheese on it?" Did I ask for cheese on it? But see, "with cheese" is the default setting, unless you say otherwise. At least they ask, right?
But in reality, chaos reigns. Everyone is running around and bumping into each other and talking to each other all at once. Meanwhile, your bare, open sandwich sits there on the counter while one person is refilling the bins of onions and lettuce instead of moving your order along, and you're standing there thinking (hopefully not aloud, for your sake) MAKE MY FUCKING SANDWICH, YOU MORON.
Eventually my food got the attention of the person whose job is to add the toppings. Now, I have to be honest, one of the things I do like about Subway is the variety of stuff you can get on your sandwich. Most places have lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and maybe pickles. Subway has cucumbers, several varieties of peppers, and olives. I love olives, especially on tuna, so this pleases me. Also, they have all these sauces, like teriyaki and sweet onion. These are just salad dressings, a trick I've used on home-prepared sandwiches for decades, but they do add to the overall sandwich flavor experience.
However, an abundance of toppings doesn't excuse or make up for poor service. Just as my sandwich was about to be passed to the cashier, a rather hefty woman slid up on the other side of me and distracted the person at the register. "I just want six cookies." The cookies are in a little plastic case in front of the register, so I guess that means if you just want a cookie (or six, you pig), you don't have to wait in line like everyone else. How convenient for you.
I'm trying to eat more sensibly these days, and about the only reason I even go there at all is because their small sandwich, on a 6" roll, is just enough food for lunch. But it's just not worth the trouble, because I'm afraid I could end up murdering someone while waiting for my 6" tuna sub, and I suspect a prison diet would be very starchy.
I'm fairly confident that hell is going to turn out to be very much like waiting in line at a Subway. There are five or six people behind the counter, and at first it appears that each one has a specific task to do as part of the assembly-line preparation of your sandwich. The first person gets the basics: what you want, and what kind of bread you want it on (they have five kinds, in case you haven't been in a Subway in a while). And that person always asks, "Do you want cheese on it?" Did I ask for cheese on it? But see, "with cheese" is the default setting, unless you say otherwise. At least they ask, right?
But in reality, chaos reigns. Everyone is running around and bumping into each other and talking to each other all at once. Meanwhile, your bare, open sandwich sits there on the counter while one person is refilling the bins of onions and lettuce instead of moving your order along, and you're standing there thinking (hopefully not aloud, for your sake) MAKE MY FUCKING SANDWICH, YOU MORON.
Eventually my food got the attention of the person whose job is to add the toppings. Now, I have to be honest, one of the things I do like about Subway is the variety of stuff you can get on your sandwich. Most places have lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and maybe pickles. Subway has cucumbers, several varieties of peppers, and olives. I love olives, especially on tuna, so this pleases me. Also, they have all these sauces, like teriyaki and sweet onion. These are just salad dressings, a trick I've used on home-prepared sandwiches for decades, but they do add to the overall sandwich flavor experience.
However, an abundance of toppings doesn't excuse or make up for poor service. Just as my sandwich was about to be passed to the cashier, a rather hefty woman slid up on the other side of me and distracted the person at the register. "I just want six cookies." The cookies are in a little plastic case in front of the register, so I guess that means if you just want a cookie (or six, you pig), you don't have to wait in line like everyone else. How convenient for you.
I'm trying to eat more sensibly these days, and about the only reason I even go there at all is because their small sandwich, on a 6" roll, is just enough food for lunch. But it's just not worth the trouble, because I'm afraid I could end up murdering someone while waiting for my 6" tuna sub, and I suspect a prison diet would be very starchy.
27 August 2008
Bagel Day
It's the last week of August, and I admit I'm looking for things to write about. As I've mentioned before, in my office we have a weekly bagel breakfast on Wednesday mornings. Staff take turns supplying the grub, and this week it was my turn. (There's a master schedule, and each person ends up feeding everyone else about twice a year.)
But one can't just get some bagels and be done with it. Additional forms of sustenance are required. Naturally, there needs to be cream cheese. There also needs to be some sort of fruit, for the appearance of healthiness. (We publish health newsletters, after all.) And there's a certain amount of what I guess I'd call "light peer pressure" to bring other things that are tasty and interesting. There usually ends up being at least one sort of baked good, and some other snacky stuff: possibly some type of nuts, or maybe some candy, or dried fruit, or trail mix, or yogurt pretzels, etc. There are at least a couple of people I work with who like to bring something homemade. Good for them.
If I drove to work, I would probably just leave my house a little early and stop at a supermarket along the way. Since I don't have that option, I've found that it helps to plan out my bagel day strategy ahead of time. First I made a list of everything I wanted to get. Then, on Monday evening the Mrs. and I went to the grocery store, where I picked up a coffee cake and some peanuts. Can't buy baked goods too far ahead of time, but a day doesn't make much difference.
Yesterday afternoon, I walked over to the Stop & Shop near our office and bought fruit (grapes and strawberries), beverages (cranberry juice and Newman's Own limeade, which has proved popular at other recent bagel days), two kinds of cream cheese (plain and chive), and a bag of dark chocolate peanut M&Ms. That took about fifteen minutes. I deposited all of this in our office refrigerator, so all I had to carry with me this morning was the peanuts and coffee cake.
(Speaking of carrying, I'd gotten about six steps off my front porch on the way to the bus stop when one of the handles ripped off the Trader Joe's bag I was using to carry the coffee cake and peanuts. Not helpful. And it wasn't even heavy, so it must have had insufficient glue.)
Next, where to get the bagels? Obviously, they have to be fresh (otherwise what's the point?), so they really should be purchased on the way into the office. In my opinion, the best bagels that I can pick up easily on my way into work are from Finagle A Bagel. (If I lived in Brookline, I'd probably go to Kupel's, but from my current commute that would be seriously out of my way.) There's a Finagle right on Boylston St., across from Copley Square. I can walk up Clarendon St. from Back Bay station and be there in a couple of minutes.
Since I've done this a few times now, I go so far as to prepare a list of how many of each kind of bagel I want and hand it to the cashier, who hands it to the order packer. It seems that they appreciate this, as opposed to the people who stand there staring at the bins of fresh bagels going, "Um... two plain... um... two sesame..." while everyone waiting in line is sighing and tapping their feet. (This place is pretty busy in the mornings, and it's small; today the line went right out the door onto the sidewalk.)
Bag of bagels in one hand, bag missing a handle in the other, I scurried across Boylston and diagonally across Copley Square to the 39 bus stop across from the Copley Plaza hotel. A bus pulled up just as I got there, which was nice. Once I was on the bus, I consolidated everything into one bag, and made it to work about ten minutes later. I got out some trays and bowls from the kitchen, arranged everything on the conference room table, and then it was time to eat.
The coffee cake was a hit, as such things usually are; by the time we were finished, it was completely gone. There were only a few strawberries left, and no grapes. There are usually a few extra bagels, because not everyone eats a bagel, and not everyone who does eats a whole one. But these are often gone by lunchtime. Anything else left gets nibbled away as well. In all, it went fine. It would be easier to transport everything with a car, but it's not that big a deal.
Hopefully, no one will ever decide to have their bagel day catered.
But one can't just get some bagels and be done with it. Additional forms of sustenance are required. Naturally, there needs to be cream cheese. There also needs to be some sort of fruit, for the appearance of healthiness. (We publish health newsletters, after all.) And there's a certain amount of what I guess I'd call "light peer pressure" to bring other things that are tasty and interesting. There usually ends up being at least one sort of baked good, and some other snacky stuff: possibly some type of nuts, or maybe some candy, or dried fruit, or trail mix, or yogurt pretzels, etc. There are at least a couple of people I work with who like to bring something homemade. Good for them.
If I drove to work, I would probably just leave my house a little early and stop at a supermarket along the way. Since I don't have that option, I've found that it helps to plan out my bagel day strategy ahead of time. First I made a list of everything I wanted to get. Then, on Monday evening the Mrs. and I went to the grocery store, where I picked up a coffee cake and some peanuts. Can't buy baked goods too far ahead of time, but a day doesn't make much difference.
Yesterday afternoon, I walked over to the Stop & Shop near our office and bought fruit (grapes and strawberries), beverages (cranberry juice and Newman's Own limeade, which has proved popular at other recent bagel days), two kinds of cream cheese (plain and chive), and a bag of dark chocolate peanut M&Ms. That took about fifteen minutes. I deposited all of this in our office refrigerator, so all I had to carry with me this morning was the peanuts and coffee cake.
(Speaking of carrying, I'd gotten about six steps off my front porch on the way to the bus stop when one of the handles ripped off the Trader Joe's bag I was using to carry the coffee cake and peanuts. Not helpful. And it wasn't even heavy, so it must have had insufficient glue.)
Next, where to get the bagels? Obviously, they have to be fresh (otherwise what's the point?), so they really should be purchased on the way into the office. In my opinion, the best bagels that I can pick up easily on my way into work are from Finagle A Bagel. (If I lived in Brookline, I'd probably go to Kupel's, but from my current commute that would be seriously out of my way.) There's a Finagle right on Boylston St., across from Copley Square. I can walk up Clarendon St. from Back Bay station and be there in a couple of minutes.
Since I've done this a few times now, I go so far as to prepare a list of how many of each kind of bagel I want and hand it to the cashier, who hands it to the order packer. It seems that they appreciate this, as opposed to the people who stand there staring at the bins of fresh bagels going, "Um... two plain... um... two sesame..." while everyone waiting in line is sighing and tapping their feet. (This place is pretty busy in the mornings, and it's small; today the line went right out the door onto the sidewalk.)
Bag of bagels in one hand, bag missing a handle in the other, I scurried across Boylston and diagonally across Copley Square to the 39 bus stop across from the Copley Plaza hotel. A bus pulled up just as I got there, which was nice. Once I was on the bus, I consolidated everything into one bag, and made it to work about ten minutes later. I got out some trays and bowls from the kitchen, arranged everything on the conference room table, and then it was time to eat.
The coffee cake was a hit, as such things usually are; by the time we were finished, it was completely gone. There were only a few strawberries left, and no grapes. There are usually a few extra bagels, because not everyone eats a bagel, and not everyone who does eats a whole one. But these are often gone by lunchtime. Anything else left gets nibbled away as well. In all, it went fine. It would be easier to transport everything with a car, but it's not that big a deal.
Hopefully, no one will ever decide to have their bagel day catered.
25 August 2008
Wet Dog
Yesterday the MSPCA had its annual "Paw Wash" benefit dog-washing event, but unlike in past years, it was not held at Angell Memorial in Jamaica Plain. This year they had it down at Gillette Stadium. The dog needed a bath anyway, and eventually I was able to convince the Mrs. that it was a cause worth driving out of our way for.
The MSPCA had help and support from LaundroMutt in Cambridge, where we've taken our dog a few times. Oh, and did I mention the actual dog washing was being done by New England Patriots cheerleaders? Yeah. They even treated the dog to a leave-in conditioner, so her fur is soft and lustrous.
But wait, it gets better. You could also have your dog's picture taken with cheerleaders. So of course we had to go for the whole package. I don't have the pictures yet; they're going to email them to me. The Mrs. thinks we should use it for our holiday card this year. Not exactly Christmasy, but certainly different.
The MSPCA had help and support from LaundroMutt in Cambridge, where we've taken our dog a few times. Oh, and did I mention the actual dog washing was being done by New England Patriots cheerleaders? Yeah. They even treated the dog to a leave-in conditioner, so her fur is soft and lustrous.
But wait, it gets better. You could also have your dog's picture taken with cheerleaders. So of course we had to go for the whole package. I don't have the pictures yet; they're going to email them to me. The Mrs. thinks we should use it for our holiday card this year. Not exactly Christmasy, but certainly different.
21 August 2008
Sportin' Wood
This goes a bit outside the usual scope of my ramblings, but really, shouldn't part of what I'm doing here be trying to expand your horizons? (Don't answer that.)
Anyway, this is actually right in line with one of my big personal interests: cars. I've been fascinated by and enamored of cars since I was about three years old. (It's a particularly pointed irony that I can't drive, then, isn't it?) Even though my family never had new cars when I was growing up, each time we traded in our car for another one was a big, exciting deal for me. As a kid, I was often tasked with looking through the used car ads in the newspaper to find suitable possibilities to see and test drive.
Over the years we had several station wagons, and about half of them were the kind with fake wood trim on the sides and back. (I wish I had some pictures, but I don't have access to them at the moment. Check out this site for scans of tons of vintage car brochures.) Several of our neighbors and friends' families had them as well. And the names they had: Kingswood Estate, Country Squire, Grand Safari, Sport Suburban. Smell that? That's the scent of pure marketing fantasy, cut with hot vinyl seats on a summer day.
The wood-sided station wagon is an icon of 20th century American car design, but as station wagons faded from popularity and were supplanted, first by minivans and then by SUVs, as the family-hauler vehicle, the vinyl wood decaling faded as well. Literally and figuratively, heh.
Which leads us to the point: someone has seen fit to bless the world with fake wood trim kits for modern cars. This is not exactly new; such kits have been around for the Chrysler PT Cruiser for a while. But this company, Woody Wagoons, has taken the ideaa step many steps further, offering kits for cars like the Scion xB (the little car that looks like a saltine box) and the Honda Element (the car that looks like a slightly larger box with gray plastic fenders--how about it, DM?)
This is all gloriously cheesy, because these cars were never designed to have this crap stuck on them, plus the kits seem to be executed in a very amateurish way. The one that actually kind of makes sense to me is the Jeep Commander, because it's a spiritual descendant of those big old Jeep Wagoneers that used to come with wood trim in the 70s and 80s.
And when I first saw the new Ford Flex, I immediately thought, "someone needs to come up with a 'Country Squire' fake-wood trim kit for this thing," because Ford can call it a "crossover" if they want, but this car is a station wagon, and indeed a modern equivalent of that 70s suburban staple. But I have to be honest: I was wrong. The wood trim kit looks terrible on it. I guess you can't go home again after all.
Anyway, this is actually right in line with one of my big personal interests: cars. I've been fascinated by and enamored of cars since I was about three years old. (It's a particularly pointed irony that I can't drive, then, isn't it?) Even though my family never had new cars when I was growing up, each time we traded in our car for another one was a big, exciting deal for me. As a kid, I was often tasked with looking through the used car ads in the newspaper to find suitable possibilities to see and test drive.
Over the years we had several station wagons, and about half of them were the kind with fake wood trim on the sides and back. (I wish I had some pictures, but I don't have access to them at the moment. Check out this site for scans of tons of vintage car brochures.) Several of our neighbors and friends' families had them as well. And the names they had: Kingswood Estate, Country Squire, Grand Safari, Sport Suburban. Smell that? That's the scent of pure marketing fantasy, cut with hot vinyl seats on a summer day.
The wood-sided station wagon is an icon of 20th century American car design, but as station wagons faded from popularity and were supplanted, first by minivans and then by SUVs, as the family-hauler vehicle, the vinyl wood decaling faded as well. Literally and figuratively, heh.
Which leads us to the point: someone has seen fit to bless the world with fake wood trim kits for modern cars. This is not exactly new; such kits have been around for the Chrysler PT Cruiser for a while. But this company, Woody Wagoons, has taken the idea
This is all gloriously cheesy, because these cars were never designed to have this crap stuck on them, plus the kits seem to be executed in a very amateurish way. The one that actually kind of makes sense to me is the Jeep Commander, because it's a spiritual descendant of those big old Jeep Wagoneers that used to come with wood trim in the 70s and 80s.
And when I first saw the new Ford Flex, I immediately thought, "someone needs to come up with a 'Country Squire' fake-wood trim kit for this thing," because Ford can call it a "crossover" if they want, but this car is a station wagon, and indeed a modern equivalent of that 70s suburban staple. But I have to be honest: I was wrong. The wood trim kit looks terrible on it. I guess you can't go home again after all.
19 August 2008
Paleolithic Packaging
We went on one of our periodic sojourns to Costco last night, this time for food items, but I spent a little time wandering around and looking at some of the other stuff. I was idly browsing the aisle of books, DVDs, and CDs, when I came upon a CD encased in something I believed was extinct: a longbox.
That's right. Those of you born before the dawn of MTV will probably remember that CDs used to come packaged inside a shrink-wrapped cardboard sleeve about six inches wide by twelve inches tall. This was originally conceived as a way for what used to be called "record stores" to stock those newfangled CDs in their existing racks, which were originally intended to display LP records, as well as a theft deterrent.
[The Mrs. found another CD nearby that was not packaged in a longbox. It was a Journey CD. You can go ahead and insert your own joke here--I'm on deadline, and it pretty much writes itself anyway.]
Longboxes were phased out in the early 1990s, in response to increasing pressure from environmental groups regarding the wastefulness of the excess packaging. So why is Costco still using them? That's an excellent question. Why are their bundle packs of things like toothbrushes or deodorant packaged in swaths of cardboard and hard plastic? Why does a pair of discounted movie tickets need to be sealed in a sheet of plastic a foot wide?
I know that the answer is mostly to keep people from walking out with the stuff, but Costco is a fairly progressive company in general (one of the reasons I choose to spend my money there), and it seems like they could devote some resources to devising some more eco-friendly packaging options. For example, things like the movie passes and gift certificates could be sold at the customer service desk, where they could be kept in a locked cabinet or case.
I'm not necessarily singling out the warehouse clubs--some of their econo-size packaging is actually less wasteful than buying multiple smaller size packages of the same item--but they do seem to be particular offenders with certain products. I don't regularly frequent BJ's or Sam's, so I don't have any comparative evidence. Anyone?
That's right. Those of you born before the dawn of MTV will probably remember that CDs used to come packaged inside a shrink-wrapped cardboard sleeve about six inches wide by twelve inches tall. This was originally conceived as a way for what used to be called "record stores" to stock those newfangled CDs in their existing racks, which were originally intended to display LP records, as well as a theft deterrent.
[The Mrs. found another CD nearby that was not packaged in a longbox. It was a Journey CD. You can go ahead and insert your own joke here--I'm on deadline, and it pretty much writes itself anyway.]
Longboxes were phased out in the early 1990s, in response to increasing pressure from environmental groups regarding the wastefulness of the excess packaging. So why is Costco still using them? That's an excellent question. Why are their bundle packs of things like toothbrushes or deodorant packaged in swaths of cardboard and hard plastic? Why does a pair of discounted movie tickets need to be sealed in a sheet of plastic a foot wide?
I know that the answer is mostly to keep people from walking out with the stuff, but Costco is a fairly progressive company in general (one of the reasons I choose to spend my money there), and it seems like they could devote some resources to devising some more eco-friendly packaging options. For example, things like the movie passes and gift certificates could be sold at the customer service desk, where they could be kept in a locked cabinet or case.
I'm not necessarily singling out the warehouse clubs--some of their econo-size packaging is actually less wasteful than buying multiple smaller size packages of the same item--but they do seem to be particular offenders with certain products. I don't regularly frequent BJ's or Sam's, so I don't have any comparative evidence. Anyone?
17 August 2008
Unfriendly
Earlier last night, we found ourselves in Swampscott. Having had dinner with friends, we were in the mood for dessert, so we followed them to an ice cream place. We drove past it and turned into a big parking lot, which belongs to a restaurant called Anthony's Pier 4 Cafe & Hawthorne by the Sea Tavern (a satellite branch of the Boston waterfront restaurant). The lot probably holds four hundred cars (it looked like the kind of place that hosts a lot of weddings and other functions), and at around 9:30 on Saturday night, it was maybe a quarter full.
We parked the car and got out, and a guy came walking across the lot toward us. I thought he was some sort of valet (he was wearing a white polo shirt and black pants) but he said, "Are you going to the restaurant?" We said no. He said, "I'm sorry, but you can't park here."
I imagine that North Shore locals are familiar with this place and its policy, but it really struck us as dickish. It's not like there was any shortage of spaces, and we probably weren't going to be there more than fifteen or twenty minutes.
We drove back onto the street and found a space nearby, but it's just such a selfish and unfriendly thing. The idea that this place feels it's necessary to pay someone to stand out in the parking lot and chase away the riff-raff makes me pretty sure I'd never want to go there.
We parked the car and got out, and a guy came walking across the lot toward us. I thought he was some sort of valet (he was wearing a white polo shirt and black pants) but he said, "Are you going to the restaurant?" We said no. He said, "I'm sorry, but you can't park here."
I imagine that North Shore locals are familiar with this place and its policy, but it really struck us as dickish. It's not like there was any shortage of spaces, and we probably weren't going to be there more than fifteen or twenty minutes.
We drove back onto the street and found a space nearby, but it's just such a selfish and unfriendly thing. The idea that this place feels it's necessary to pay someone to stand out in the parking lot and chase away the riff-raff makes me pretty sure I'd never want to go there.
Party On, Dude
We had a little excitement last night in our corner of Medford. The teenagers who live in the house next door had themselves a not-so-little party, and they managed to draw the attention of Medford's finest. The only bummer is that I missed all the action, even though we were home and awake at the time.
These kids have a few parties each summer, but this one was bigger and rowdier than the previous ones. When I took the dog our for her "last call" around 11:15, there were about 25 kids in the adjacent back yard. In the past we've usually had the AC on during their parties, so the noise hasn't kept us from sleeping, but it's been nice enough lately that we haven't needed the AC. (Of course, we could always turn it on if we needed to block the noise, but when the houses are this close together, people should have a little more respect for their neighbors.)
About an hour later, I was watching TV, and the Mrs. was engaged in one of her Wordscraper games on Facebook. We were kind of waiting for the party to burn itself out so we could go to sleep with a reasonable chance of not being disturbed. Suddenly she jumped up and went outside. At first I thought she'd gone to get something from the car, but she didn't come back. Turns out the arrival of the police sent kids scattering, and she wanted to make sure that none of them used our yard as an escape route. She came back inside about ten minutes later and told me what was going on. Somehow, I didn't notice that any of this was happening.
In the light of the morning, we could see that not only did the departing kids leave a swath of debris in the next-door back yard, but they also managed to pull down part of that yard's back fence as they climbed over it. Sweet. I'm sure their landlord will be excited. I can't help wondering where he was last night, since he lives on the second floor of the house next door. You'd think that given the previous parties, he'd want to keep an eye on things. But they're his tenants (though maybe, not for long?) so they're ultimately his responsibility.
And I don't know who called the cops, but I'm glad someone did.
These kids have a few parties each summer, but this one was bigger and rowdier than the previous ones. When I took the dog our for her "last call" around 11:15, there were about 25 kids in the adjacent back yard. In the past we've usually had the AC on during their parties, so the noise hasn't kept us from sleeping, but it's been nice enough lately that we haven't needed the AC. (Of course, we could always turn it on if we needed to block the noise, but when the houses are this close together, people should have a little more respect for their neighbors.)
About an hour later, I was watching TV, and the Mrs. was engaged in one of her Wordscraper games on Facebook. We were kind of waiting for the party to burn itself out so we could go to sleep with a reasonable chance of not being disturbed. Suddenly she jumped up and went outside. At first I thought she'd gone to get something from the car, but she didn't come back. Turns out the arrival of the police sent kids scattering, and she wanted to make sure that none of them used our yard as an escape route. She came back inside about ten minutes later and told me what was going on. Somehow, I didn't notice that any of this was happening.
In the light of the morning, we could see that not only did the departing kids leave a swath of debris in the next-door back yard, but they also managed to pull down part of that yard's back fence as they climbed over it. Sweet. I'm sure their landlord will be excited. I can't help wondering where he was last night, since he lives on the second floor of the house next door. You'd think that given the previous parties, he'd want to keep an eye on things. But they're his tenants (though maybe, not for long?) so they're ultimately his responsibility.
And I don't know who called the cops, but I'm glad someone did.
14 August 2008
Rain Gear
With all the rain we've been having this summer, I thought it might be a good idea to get a lightweight rain jacket of some sort. Indeed, it's a little odd that I've managed to get along without one for this long, but I'm starting to feel a little silly on the rainy but warm days, standing at the bus stop wearing shorts and holding an umbrella. So it seemed like a simple jacket in a breathable fabric with a hood would be a smart choice.
I do have a waterproof rain coat with a removable hood that I like, but it's too warm to wear in summer and is kind of large on me anyway (it's cut very full to take a fleece liner, plus it's a tall; I got it on clearance for next to nothing and that's all they had left). And while I know that Gore-Tex fabrics have long been the standard for waterproof breathability, I was hoping to get away with not spending so much, and there are newer fabrics that claim to do the same thing just as effectively but cost less.
I thought finding something suitable would be a quick task online, but it's become one of those things that lands in the category of "easier said than done." This part of the outerwear category is dominated by makers of outdoor clothing like Patagonia, The North Face, and Marmot that make products that sell in outdoor stores like REI for premium prices. A simple rain jacket from one of these companies can easily run upwards of $200, which is simply ridiculous. I was hoping to get away with spending $50 or less. Also, many of these jackets are really, really ugly.
Somehow my online wanderings led me to the web site of a company in New Jersey called Campmor that sells all kinds of outdoor gear. I was familiar with the company, because my brother has been getting their quaint catalogs (which are printed on newsprint paper and are filled with line drawings of the merchandise) for probably three decades. I occasionally get them myself, but I never look at them, and I had never been to their site (which, thankfully, features photos of the products instead of drawings).
Campmor carries the fancy brands, but they also have clothing manufactured for them under their own brand. I have no problem with house brands as long as they're decently made, so I browsed their selection of rain gear and decided to buy a jacket called Storm Venture (I think this is meant to reference a similar style of jacket made by The North Face called Venture). Campmor's jacket had a "regular price" of $65 but was being offered for $39.99 in five colors. It looked plain enough, so I chose "cobalt" and ordered it. I thought to myself, that was easy.
It arrived in two days via UPS (New Jersey isn't that far away), and when I unpacked it, I could see right away that the color was off, definitely not anything you would call cobalt. Not a terrible shade of blue, but not what I wanted. This is not that uncommon; monitors render colors differently, the art department decides to pump up the colors so they pop off the screen better, etc. But more importantly, the thing just looked cheap, because it was cheap.
Of course I needed to try it on before making a final decision. I unfolded it and started to unzip it. The zipper gave me a lot of trouble, which was another bad sign. Then I saw the interior of the jacket. Many of these jackets have sealed or taped seams to ensure their waterproofness; in this case, it looked like someone had literally slathered clear tape over all the inside seams. It made the outside look classy. I did try it on, but I already knew it was going back. Just for fun, I showed it to a coworker. She made a face and asked me how much it cost. I told her, and she made a different, even more unhappy face.
I packed it up and sent it back for a refund, but that means I still don't have a jacket. I spent some time browsing some other sites, and found myself back at old faithful L.L. Bean. I guess I should have looked there in the first place. There are two styles that I'm interested in, one of which is a breathable fabric called TEK 2.5 (seriously, that's the best name they could come up with?) and the other is Gore-Tex. This breaks my price rule, but I'm starting to think that I'll be more satisfied in the long run by buying what I really like. Also, the proximity of a Bean store means I can try on the jackets and inspect them in person. But it will probably stop raining as soon as I buy something.
I do have a waterproof rain coat with a removable hood that I like, but it's too warm to wear in summer and is kind of large on me anyway (it's cut very full to take a fleece liner, plus it's a tall; I got it on clearance for next to nothing and that's all they had left). And while I know that Gore-Tex fabrics have long been the standard for waterproof breathability, I was hoping to get away with not spending so much, and there are newer fabrics that claim to do the same thing just as effectively but cost less.
I thought finding something suitable would be a quick task online, but it's become one of those things that lands in the category of "easier said than done." This part of the outerwear category is dominated by makers of outdoor clothing like Patagonia, The North Face, and Marmot that make products that sell in outdoor stores like REI for premium prices. A simple rain jacket from one of these companies can easily run upwards of $200, which is simply ridiculous. I was hoping to get away with spending $50 or less. Also, many of these jackets are really, really ugly.
Somehow my online wanderings led me to the web site of a company in New Jersey called Campmor that sells all kinds of outdoor gear. I was familiar with the company, because my brother has been getting their quaint catalogs (which are printed on newsprint paper and are filled with line drawings of the merchandise) for probably three decades. I occasionally get them myself, but I never look at them, and I had never been to their site (which, thankfully, features photos of the products instead of drawings).
Campmor carries the fancy brands, but they also have clothing manufactured for them under their own brand. I have no problem with house brands as long as they're decently made, so I browsed their selection of rain gear and decided to buy a jacket called Storm Venture (I think this is meant to reference a similar style of jacket made by The North Face called Venture). Campmor's jacket had a "regular price" of $65 but was being offered for $39.99 in five colors. It looked plain enough, so I chose "cobalt" and ordered it. I thought to myself, that was easy.
It arrived in two days via UPS (New Jersey isn't that far away), and when I unpacked it, I could see right away that the color was off, definitely not anything you would call cobalt. Not a terrible shade of blue, but not what I wanted. This is not that uncommon; monitors render colors differently, the art department decides to pump up the colors so they pop off the screen better, etc. But more importantly, the thing just looked cheap, because it was cheap.
Of course I needed to try it on before making a final decision. I unfolded it and started to unzip it. The zipper gave me a lot of trouble, which was another bad sign. Then I saw the interior of the jacket. Many of these jackets have sealed or taped seams to ensure their waterproofness; in this case, it looked like someone had literally slathered clear tape over all the inside seams. It made the outside look classy. I did try it on, but I already knew it was going back. Just for fun, I showed it to a coworker. She made a face and asked me how much it cost. I told her, and she made a different, even more unhappy face.
I packed it up and sent it back for a refund, but that means I still don't have a jacket. I spent some time browsing some other sites, and found myself back at old faithful L.L. Bean. I guess I should have looked there in the first place. There are two styles that I'm interested in, one of which is a breathable fabric called TEK 2.5 (seriously, that's the best name they could come up with?) and the other is Gore-Tex. This breaks my price rule, but I'm starting to think that I'll be more satisfied in the long run by buying what I really like. Also, the proximity of a Bean store means I can try on the jackets and inspect them in person. But it will probably stop raining as soon as I buy something.
11 August 2008
Yard Work
We have a cute little backyard at our house. At least, it used to be cute, as you can see. But these days, it's looking pretty junglesque, thanks to all the rain we've had in the past month or so.Things have gotten out of hand. Normally, the landlord comes by every few weeks and tidies up the yard and the shrubs in front, but we haven't seen him in a while. I usually communicate with him by email, so I'm not sure what, if anything, is going on. Meanwhile, the weeds and grass have gone crazy. This made me feel somewhat guilty, even though we have no explicit responsibility for taking care of the yard or grounds (aside from a winter snow-removal arrangement). I don't like doing yard work, or for that matter any other sort of outdoor labor, especially when it's hot, but it bugged me just the same.
Finally, I decided to visit the local home-improvement megalith to see about getting a string trimmer. Not being a homeowner, I don't pay much attention to outdoor power equipment, so I found these things kind of crazy expensive, at least the gas-powered ones. I really couldn't see the point of buying a gas-engined trimmer, for a few reasons. The high cost of gasoline is a pretty significant one, plus the hassle of getting the gas, and the potential hazard of storing it. An electric trimmer seems like a good alternative, until you realize that means you need a long extension cord and a place to plug it in.
Eventually I settled on the idea of a cordless trimmer that runs on a rechargeable battery that snaps into the trimmer's handle. It eliminates the main disadvantages of the gas and electric models, while still providing decent power (the battery is about the size of a standard brick, and weighs about as much). The battery charges in only an hour when snapped into its charger (which, of course, is sold separately). Also, these things are part of a line of power tools that can all be powered by these same batteries, so if someday I need (or just feel like buying) a cordless drill, I already have a battery and charger that will work with it.
Last Monday, I got home from work and set out to do battle with the yard. I didn't realize that the grass would still be wet down at the roots from the previous weekend's rain, and the trimmer quickly became caked with clippings. I gave it another 24 hours, and tried again. The grass was still a little wet, but the trimming went better. Another thing I hadn't realized was that I would have to keep pressure on the trigger, which quickly grew tiring. I persisted until my hands hurt from the vibrations. I managed to clear about
Of course, we've had a good bit more rain since last Tuesday, so I have not been able to make any further progress on the yard. Maybe later on this week, things will be dry enough. But I'm now thinking that when we do buy a house, it might make more sense to buy into a condo association that hires someone else to do the yard work.
08 August 2008
Troll Trolling
I have a troll. Not one of those hideous plastic dolls with the stand-up shock of hair, but an anonymous commenter who seems to have it in for me.
Whenever I write a piece about men's fashion, this person pops up. The commenter seems to think that an interest in fashion makes me gay, and the comments are generally disparaging, mocking, and homophobic in nature. The first couple of times, I went ahead and posted them (you can see an example here). Also, I have written a couple of posts about the strange behavior I've witnessed in the rest room here at work, and the troll seems to think that this also makes me gay (example #2).
Eventually I decided to stop posting these comments, but that doesn't stop them from coming. Here's the latest:
So, Anonymous: what the fuck is your problem? It doesn't even matter that I'm not gay, because your comments are just as offensive to me. I believe in tolerance, not ignorance. It's 2008, and believe it or not, most people are a bit more enlightened these days. Those who are not are eventually going to be marginalized and, hopefully, ostracized for their hateful, backward views.
Besides all that, you're missing the point. I'm not looking at men's legs. Sure, there happen to be legs in the photos that accompanied the article I referenced in the post that prompted your most recent response. But if I did want to ogle men's legs, I'm sure I could easily find better material, like Olympic athletes. I'm critiquing the fashion industry, and I'm going to keep doing it, so if you are not interested in reading that sort of thing, maybe you should just stop visiting my blog.
In fact, I'd prefer that you stopped visiting. I'm sure not going to post any more of your comments. You are no longer welcome as a visitor. If I could figure out how to block your IP address, I would. Just go away.
Whenever I write a piece about men's fashion, this person pops up. The commenter seems to think that an interest in fashion makes me gay, and the comments are generally disparaging, mocking, and homophobic in nature. The first couple of times, I went ahead and posted them (you can see an example here). Also, I have written a couple of posts about the strange behavior I've witnessed in the rest room here at work, and the troll seems to think that this also makes me gay (example #2).
Eventually I decided to stop posting these comments, but that doesn't stop them from coming. Here's the latest:
Warning! This Blogger is seriously GayEither it's someone's lame idea of a joke, or someone who has a real problem and doesn't know how to deal with it. But seriously, enough's enough. I decided to confront the problem head-on by posting about it, on the assumption that the troll will read it, since he (presumably it's a male; I really can't see a woman writing these things) seems to follow the blog.
Gay! Gay! Gay! I mean really, why would a grown man prefer to look at other men's pants? I bet you would like to see men in shorts. Really short shorts. Who wears short shorts?
Why don't you talk about something serious that would greatly help the average consumer. Like women's bikinis?
So, Anonymous: what the fuck is your problem? It doesn't even matter that I'm not gay, because your comments are just as offensive to me. I believe in tolerance, not ignorance. It's 2008, and believe it or not, most people are a bit more enlightened these days. Those who are not are eventually going to be marginalized and, hopefully, ostracized for their hateful, backward views.
Besides all that, you're missing the point. I'm not looking at men's legs. Sure, there happen to be legs in the photos that accompanied the article I referenced in the post that prompted your most recent response. But if I did want to ogle men's legs, I'm sure I could easily find better material, like Olympic athletes. I'm critiquing the fashion industry, and I'm going to keep doing it, so if you are not interested in reading that sort of thing, maybe you should just stop visiting my blog.
In fact, I'd prefer that you stopped visiting. I'm sure not going to post any more of your comments. You are no longer welcome as a visitor. If I could figure out how to block your IP address, I would. Just go away.