giant man

I read my first chapter today with my writing group. Everyone liked it! Continuing with the writing...

And I start my screen play class next Saturday!

new chairs - in situ!!!!

I think they look amazing!!!!!!!!!!!!

it wasn't me, it was a ghost

Tonight I had pizza with my friend Cam and told her about the hot sauce incident. She said it wasn't me, it was a ghost.

the first chapter of my new book "the corm crisp caper"

Yes, it's a kid's book. And no, it isn't easier to write even though I thought it would be. Only did 7 pages in three hours, but that included editing...

Chapter 1:  The Giant Man Meets a Croco-diamond & Makes a Plan of Action

One morning, as the sun was just rising, the giant man woke up to the sound of crunching. It was not normal crunching. It was very loud crunching.

He sat up in bed and peered out the window of his attic bedroom down to the courtyard below. There he saw in the growing light a croco-diamond lying on his back in the purple hammock. He had a round light green belly covered in corm crumbs, polished nails at the end of his webbed feet, and thick teeth covered in patterned white gold. Down his spine was a sparkling array of aspen diamonds, cardentine emeralds, star garnets, marlonian opals and a De Le Va Dorn ruby once owned by a real King. In each foot were 5 corm crisps which the croco-diamond daintily placed in his mouth before snapping his snout shut with a loud munch and chomp.

Beside the croco-diamond was the basket of corm crisps the giant man had made just the previous day. The basket was almost empty.

The giant man was puzzled for two reasons. The first – no one had seen a croco-diamond in years. They had moved deep into the swamp because fortune hunters would remove the jewels that made up the spines of the croco-diamonds while the croco-diamonds were sleeping (they sleep very deeply). The second – though croco-diamonds are known to eat mash pies, squiggle salads, applecorn buns, broccolintine casseroles, eggy guild torts, okre berry soup, and jellied can cakes they had never been seen eating corm crisps.

“Delightful morning!” called the croco-diamond, spying the giant man at his window. “I shall rest here for a bit and then I must to do something with these nails. A warm bath would be wonderful. Do you have any bubbles?”

“Just a minute, I’m coming down,” said the giant man, proceeding to put on his robe and walk down the narrow staircase from the attic, careful to duck his head to avoid the ceiling. Arriving in the courtyard he found the croco-diamond brushing the crumbs from his belly with an elegant but worn cotton square. He put the last corm crisp in his mouth and then looked at the front of his feet.

“I had such a nice pair of gloves for my trip, seem to have misplaced them and walking on tile is so hard on the nails…” The croco-diamond stopped speaking because he noticed the giant man was staring at the path behind him that led from the courtyard out to a barn. The path was strewn with baskets. Empty baskets.

“Five, six, seven… Eight! Nine!” said the giant man to himself, counting the baskets. The croco-diamond covered the front of his snout and burped into the cotton square.

“My corm crisps! All of my corm crisps!”

“I was hungry. Sometimes I do eat too much.” The croco-diamond wiggled his tail in an attempt to sit up. The attempt failed. “And now it’s hopeless. I’m afraid I’m stuck in this hammock.” His snout sagged open and a small trail of drool dropped to his tummy. “Perhaps I’ll have a bath later instead of now.” His eyes started to close and he yawned a big croco-diamond yawn.

“But you’ve eaten all of my corm crisps! All of them!”

At this the croco-diamond’s sleepy eyes suddenly opened, and with a great effort he managed to roll over onto his right side so he could more easily see the giant man.

“I don’t understand. Is there…a problem?”

“Of course there’s a problem! I sell corm crisps every Thursday at the market. Now there’s nothing to sell!”

The croco-diamond blinked and then stared at the tall figure in front of him flapping his bath robed arms around at the empty baskets. Due to his large size, strong teeth, well polished nails, and general aura of royalty, no one had ever yelled at the croco-diamond before. He was unsure what to do. A feeling of sadness replaced the happy feeling of just moments before from having eaten nine baskets of corm crisps. He put his front foot to his face and pressed it against the side of his snout.

“I just…I just don’t know what to say,” he sniffed. His large tail thumped down dully onto the hammock and his rear feet curled into tight balls of webbing.

The giant man realized the croco-diamond was going to start crying. And the worst thing is when a croco-diamond cries. First it goes “sniff sniff” and the eyes get a sad gleam. Then the croco-diamond makes a noise like “kak, kak”, clearing the lungs. One, then two egg shaped tears will roll down his cheeks, followed by a lowly murmured “neuuuuuuuu!” Sobs follow.

Croco-diamonds have a large supply of tears and can cry for a month without stopping except to eat and polish their nails (very difficult to do through a curtain of tears but somehow they manage). The giant man had once heard the story of a croco-diamond that cried so much, for so long, that the croco-diamond’s snout had to buy an umbrella and galoshes.

“Oh no. Don’t. No don’t do that. It’s okay. Don’t cry. Please. Don’t cry!” pleaded the giant man as the croco-diamond’s chest puffed forward and his front feet covered his face. “It’s…it’s okay. We…we’ll make some more corm crisps. With two of us…it’s…it won’t take long. Please don’t cry.” The giant man flapped his arms even faster in his robe. “Oh please please please! Please don’t cry!”

The croco-diamond thought for a moment, noticed his chipped nails again, and decided it would be best to delay his tears, at least for the moment. He stared at his front feet, and then his back feet, uncurling them and then wiggling each webbed digit nervously. Was he supposed to apologize now? Croco-diamonds don’t like to apologize.

“They had such a nice zing and a delicious crunch and I hadn’t eaten except for a tiny pot of cactar jam, it dries out the throat you know…” The croco-diamond coughed a tiny cough and put his snout almost to his belly. No, he wasn’t going to apologize.

The giant man sighed. He knew there was no point in yelling. So he said “I’m going to get dressed and make some breakfast. You should join me at least for some fruit because jam and corm crisps are not a balanced diet. After breakfast we will discuss what to do next. We need a plan of action!”

spontaneous stochasticity

My dad and I have had a lot of conversations about turbulence as it relates to air and flying planes. In the latest issue of the JHU Engineering magazine they had a really cool article about a researcher at Whiting School of Engineering. Using fluid dynamics scientists can predict where a particle will end up in a calmly flowing creek (smooth velocity). But once you introduce turbulence they can't predict where the particle will end up, even when the turbulence is reduced to being almost negligible. That's called spontaneous stochasticity.

Why do you care? Because that's how scientists predict formation of stars and solar flares. Solar flares disrupt power and communication networks. They can also effect the earth's magnetic field, which means we are exposed to radiation from space.

Lead shielding anyone?

I also liked the article because the researcher disproved a theory called flux freezing that never really worked. I like it when someone is proven wrong after they've suggested a theory that doesn't work (makes me feel better when I argue with people at work because what they're telling me makes no sense).

And NPR says that a brain over 45 is already almost past its prime. Hah.

so much for my new laptop

I'm returning my new laptop. Why? This will make you laugh.

I submitted an IT request to get my new computer imaged so I can use it for work. My buddy Harry called me and told me:

• I can't use a personally purchased laptop for work without my manager's approval (???? if the guy won't approve for me to buy a new laptop why would they think he wouldn't approve me to buy my own laptop?) but Harry wasn't sure in what medium the approval had to come (email, form, whatever)
• My laptop type was on the list of approved list of laptops that those people who are allowed to upgrade can upgrade to (those would be the sales people, who, yeah, need an amazing laptop so they can watch youtube videos while they sit in the back of my class) but the model number of my new laptop was not on the list (the model number is this arcane thing that tells them what month and year my laptop was built though the year itself corresponds to other number which I thought was a model number but is instead the model name - even though it's a number) so they won't image my laptop. Which is stupid. How different can 4 laptops with varying model numbers be? Are they really making major changes every month they release a new laptop?
• Harry couldn't find the list of approved model numbers for laptops so I could swap my new laptop for one of the approved laptops when I return it. He clicked on 10 links, cursed, clicked some more, finally went out to google (my company's web search sucks on the internal site - everyone uses google to find stuff), found a promising link, but the page was down. So now I don't know which model laptop I can purchase that will be supported by IT.
• If I am finally approved for a laptop refresh I'm stuck with Windows XP "because that's what you have now" according to Harry. I have to set up my new laptop, wait at least two weeks, and then apply for a Windows 7 reimage. One of the other reasons for upgrading my laptop is to take advantage of 64 bit computing so I don't have to wake up every 3 hours while I'm uploading customer data to start the next upload (it takes me 3 hours to upload a 32,000 row spreadsheet - I can do the same upload in Windows 7 64-bit in 15 minutes - I don't waste consulting time with my customer uploading because it locks up my whole computer - I have to do it when I get home at night, one of the reasons I work so much). I have never, in any company I've worked for, heard of such a fucking stupid policy. Since 1992, every time I've gotten a new computer it's always had the latest software on it.

I could almost forgive this insanity if I worked for a stupid hippie commune run by luddites with liberal arts degrees. But, no. We are an IT company that makes hardware and software. 

I would cry but instead I'm going to pet my new fluffy fleece boots and pretend they are a cat (well, I'm going to put waterproofing on them anyway) while watching the last episode of an interesting documentary called The Farmer's Wife.  They would probably look at my life and laugh at what I consider stress.

I will be a jedi in a future life

People are always worried about their past lives, like my friend who thinks she has expensive taste in jewelry because she was once a princess. But I'm always worried about my future lives. Sometimes I think "I work for this re re company because in a future life I'm going to be a general that has to lead an army of weapon toting morons to save the planet".

And my brother sent me this link in reference to the hot sauce incident:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q3hn6fFTxeo

Maybe I'll be a jedi in a future life.

and you make more money than me?????

On a final note, file this one under "sales people make more money than me????"

I was on a conference call with my customer for next week, joined of course by a pack of 4 sales people all salivating at potential $$$ and not doing much other than cluttering the call with white noise as I tried to find out more info from my client (I love it when they do things like order a burrito without putting the phone on mute - glad you're eating mexican while I'm working!). The customer was telling me how a sales guy was telling him about a new architecture framework called PEEF and how he was thinking to use it.

I was like "PEEF?" and he said "yeah it stands for..." and of course he couldn't remember. One of the sales guys, Mr. Idiot let's call him, made a condescending comment to me because I had not heard of the framework. He spelled it out "PEEF" and then said "Look, I'll google it for you" as if I'm incapable of doing same. I googled it and I'm sure everyone else did.

The framework is actually PEAF, not PEEF. Here were the results for PEEF:

PEEF, the Christmas Bear

and


PEEF, urban dictionary:

"A peef is a penis fart, similar to a queef. A queef is to a female as a peef is to a male.

There have been very few recorded incidences of peefs. However, we do know that a peef is both pleasant and painful for the 'peefer'. No incidences of a 'wet peef' have ever been recorded.

On a related note, the peef has much militaristic potential. Theoretically, with the proper enhancements and adjustments, the peef could become powerful enough to replace nuclear warfare.

Example 1:

Vendor: I peefed at the dinner table.

Example 2:

Pierce: I tried to peef, but blood came out instead. "

The urban dictionary reference comes up first. An embarrassed silence descended on the call.

And, are you goddamn kidding about PEEF the christmas bear? That thing is ugly.

bigger, and hopefully better

My new laptop is so much bigger than the piece of crap my company bought for me. I'm hoping it's a lot better too! I'm going to upgrade to 8 gigs of RAM after the battery charges. My laptop will be so fast it will be done with work before I even start working.

my old laptop live, next to my new laptop which is 2 inches wider

Because he can sometimes be a poop (it's a wonder I lend him movies) my UPS man just said "that thing weighs more than you do". He also made fun of me trying to put it into my backpack (had to take the padding out to fit it).

Ha. He's just jealous.

hybrid sharks!!!!

Exciting exciting exciting!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Scientists have found the first hybrid sharks!!!!

What do you mean who cares??? I care. Why? Because sharks have traditionally been thought by scientists to adapt slowly to changes in their environment (check out the megalodon - looks a lot like a great white). That means that as the oceans get warmer and those shitbag Japanese keep finning sharks the species will die out quickly. Mahmood Shivji who works at the Guy Harvey Research Institute was one of the first scientists to use DNA analysis to show shark populations have distinct genetics within specific ocean basins.

But if they are interbreeding they have a shot at survival. Sad how most of the sharks caught these days are young. That means they are killed before breeding. That means less sharks. And since sharks are the trashmen (and trashwomen) of the ocean, it's going to have a terrible impact if they disappear.

So breed with abandon sharks! I know my Pacific great whites think that Australian great whites have a weird accents but go with it!

So you think the only good shark is a dead shark? Here's a surprise for you...

Juliet Eilperin has written a good (three stars) book about sharks and shark conservation called Demon Fish (for the shark but not science inclined Devil's Teeth is better). A great study she cites in her book (Trends in Ecology and Evolution) shows that the eco-system works much more efficiently and naturally when the apex predators are healthy. The study cites the example of Prince William Sound in Alaska. With sharks to eat harbor seals the harbor seals forage in shallower water and that keeps the walleye pollack population intact. In Shark Bay, Australia, tiger sharks keep sea turtles from overgrazing the sea grass habitat. The study was primarily authored by a scientist with the eclectic name Boris Worm. He says "Sharks are being kind of the 'cop on the street' in the ecosystem".

Sharks...

Ach. I am interrupted. My UPS guy just brought my new computer and he wants me to open the box and show it to him. More on sharks later.

I fly hot sauce?

Okay, file this one under the annals of "are you fucking kidding me?"

But truly, I'm not. And there was a witness.

My friend Kev and I met at this Irish pub in Littleton (had to go to the 'burbs because it was only fair to meet in a place half way between my house and Kev's house). It was kind of not so great so we went to a Denver Writer's hangout about a half mile away.

It was in that place that something fucking weird happened.

We had just finished eating (Kev had fish & chips, he's a veg now, and I had tuna sashimi, perhaps the mercury is turning me into the mad hatter) and I had just finished telling Kev how my intuition (some people say I'm psychic) has been off the charts the past two months. I was staring down at the table when suddenly I looked up because there was a clatter to my right. We were at a table against the wall; there was a bar about 7 feet to our right. The table we were sitting at was not big. I could see the entire surface even staring down at the table.

Somehow the hot sauce (I know, this sounds insane) had flown from our table, from its little holding pen against the wall with the salt, pepper, mustard, ketchup, and what ever other shit they had in there, across the 7 feet to the bar, and had landed under a bar stool.

I was like "dude, how did that happen?"

He was like "Maybe it was placed in this holder some weird way and...something happened...and it flew over there."

To rub it in, Kev was like "why don't you levitate this object with your mind?" a few more times during the course of the evening.

Weird. I am not making this up. Kev, if you read this, say I'm not crazy. Because seriously dude, that was fucking crazy.

the triple agent

I'm almost done reading a non-fiction book called The Triple Agent. It's about this Jordanian dude who becomes a terrorist, is flipped by Mukhabarat (with support from the CIA), infiltrates Al-Qaeda, and ends up killing his handlers. Joby Warrick is an amazing writer. Highly recommend this book to anyone interested in terrorism. You can read the first chapter for free on amazon.

another new year

Really?

Yawn.

I know some people get excited...but I spent last night on my couch watching the merchant of venice. I went to bed at 10 PM. I have a hard time getting myself psyched to go out these days. Mostly because I get bored and it ends up being a waste of time. And the guys I meet are less interesting than my versa climber (which includes a computer with programs and race mode, to be fair).

Am I too picky? I think I'm not picky enough. And yet a lot of guys that have nothing in common with me think I should date them. Here are some of my top pet peeves about guys:

• The financial shit show - I'm not a materialistic person. But I think how a person manages their money says a lot about them. I appreciate that some people have encountered hard times outside of their control (e.g. psycho ex wife trying to bilk you for everything you have). But I'm done financing boyfriends. And I don't like materialistic guys either. If you plan on making fun of my car Jake because he's 10 years old you should also plan on me kicking you in the nuts. He might have a lot of miles on him but unlike most guys he still looks good.
• The cartoon guy - No, I haven's seen avatar or cars or wall-e. And my life is too short to do that. If I wanted to watch kids movies I would have had kids. We'll never agree on netflix so I wouldn't bother with you. Some women might find child like qualities in a man attractive. I'm not that woman.
• The tv watcher - I hate watching tv. If you were George Clooney I still wouldn't watch tv with you.
• The non-reader (or reader of stupid books) - I read Stephen King when I was in high school. When guys don't read or read dumb things it implies to me they aren't that intellectually engaged. That makes me bored.
• The clinger - I am busy and forced to socialize for my job all the time. I don't really like to socialize with strangers. I need downtime from my job. And that downtime doesn't involve me expending energy I don't have to spend time with someone clingy. I don't like to talk on the phone, I don't want to go to your boring family outings, I don't want to sit around a bar with your friends to watch football, I don't want to chat with you at night because you miss me while I'm on the road. Is it not bad enough my clients email me 24/7? At least they pay to talk to me.
• The controller - I hate it when guys are like "call me tonight". I'll call you when I get around to it. Or when they try to dictate my schedule. If I tell you I only have 2 hours to spend with you that means 2 hours. Not negotiable. If you argue with me you won't be spending any time with me.
• The breeder - I don't have kids because I like to do what I want to do. If you had kids that's your choice. Don't expect me to take care of your kids. Or hang out with your kids. Or re-arrange my schedule because your psycho ex-wife decides to switch baby sitting nights with you. In fact, if you have kids, don't even try to hang out with me.
• The bad story teller - After you've told me the same story about some stupid shit you did in college with your friends don't act surprised that I look bored. Worse, if it takes you a half hour to tell a 5 minute story don't be surprised when I start avoiding you. If you aren't a good story teller we aren't going to have much to talk about. And if you suck at telling stories practice with your friends until you get the skill down. I'm not a story coach.
• The non-adventurist - You really don't own a tent? Or hike or ski? Or climb? Or do something interesting? Ech.
• The depressive - Boo hoo. Call me when you're off the meds.

I really fault hollywood for a lot of guys' non-guyness. Like, am I the only one who watched sideways and wanted to punch every male character in the movie? 

Right then. This is the year where I don't compromise and give chances to guys that I know are a waste of my time. Which works out with my training schedule...more time with my versa climber.