« June 2002 | Main | August 2002 »
July 31, 2002
I Am The Putt-Master
Wednesday, July 31, 2002
'Member how I was so glad for Tommy making such a nice putt the other day? Well, I have two words.
My turn.
97.5 feet, baby. That's what I'm talkin' about! My sister Liz came out with us today, and she signed my disc. I'll get Rusty and Sarah to do it next time I see them, and take a better picture of the disc and the pin.
Posted by Lee at 01:38 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
July 29, 2002
ASCII Art Is Cool.
Monday, July 29, 2002
This is my family on the top of a mountain in Red River, New Mexico.
ASCII art is neat. Want to make your own?
Posted by Lee at 01:38 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
July 26, 2002
Sprinklers and Golf Discs=Fun.
Friday, July 26, 2002
Well, after the services, Emily missed her flight. It was an issue of simply scheduling too tightly. We were on the road from Houston at 11:45, and at the DFW Airport at 4:25...for a 4:45 flight. And a 20 minute wait at the ticketing desk. Ruh roh.
When we stopped for gas on our way out of town, I bought one lotto ticket. Emily blessed it for me. Didn't win. Bummer. It's still a good souvenir, though.
So Emily stayed over a night. We were both feeling really sweaty and grimy and grumpy, so I dropped her at Rusty and Sarah's and went home to scrape off 300 miles of road grit. Then, we went to play disc golf! Yay!
It was a hot day. The ladies found some sprinklers. Havoc ensued.
Emily and I were on one team, and Rusty and Sarah were on the other. It was neck-and-neck for a while, but then I started throwing all crazy-like, and we fell behind. I'm going to say it was because I was tired, but that's just an excuse.
Emily, on the other hand, was turning in some very nice shots, particularly considering it was only her second time to play. Good thing New York doesn't have courses, because then she'd be able to practice, and if she practiced, she'd kick my butt. Glad she's on my team.
When we play, we don't really do much in the way of keeping score. I mean, we usually have a vague notion as to whether we're at or under par for a hole, but beyond that it's pretty laid back. And, we also frequently invoke "Sarah's Rule", a codicil which states that striking the pin with the disc, whether or not the disc goes in the basket, is sufficient to declare victory.
And I'm pretty sure Sarah likes it because whenever we invoke this clause, we sing out "Sarah Rules!" I think it's good for her ego.
On frequent occasions, Sarah DOES rule. Check out this putt.
Seeing as how Sarah's the better part of six feet tall, and the pin is about five and a half feet tall, you can see by geometry that this was quite a long shot. I didn't pace it off, but I'd estimate that it was about 30 feet. Good show!
All in all, a most pleasant evening.
Posted by Lee at 01:37 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
July 25, 2002
Julia's Funeral
Thursday, July 25, 2002
Tough couple days.
Sunday, Emily called me and told me that her cousin Julia had been killed in an automobile accident in Houston. She told me that she was going to the funeral, and asked me to accompany her. I was happy to oblige.
I had really mixed feelings...I was really eager to see her (and her family, who I really like) again, but I knew that it was going to be a painful experience for everybody.
As it turned out, it was cheapest for Emily to fly into Dallas, and for us to drive down to Houston together. She flew in at midnight on Monday. Rusty and Sarah were happily able to join us for breakfast on Tuesday, before we headed out to Houston.
We got to Houston with only a modicum of difficulty (bad burger in Corsicana for Emily). We were driving Idoru, my poor beloved Miata. Driving across Texas with no air conditioning is an exercise in physical fortitude. Avoid.
Tuesday evening was the viewing, and the wake. Emily had been asked by Julia's family to sing at the funeral mass. She arranged to meet with the organist late in the evening, and we then went to the funeral home.
I am continually impressed with Emily's family. Even on this somber occasion, they were very friendly and welcoming to me, although I was something of a stranger. I was touched to be so included in this very difficult, personal time.
It might sound funny for a 28 year old guy, but I haven't really had to deal with death on a personal level. I mean, I've had pets die, and I was sad. My great grandmother and my grandfather have passed away, but in both cases it was one of those situations where you were left with the feeling that "it was time", so the death, though sad, was not a tragedy. However, this year, I've been brought steadily closer to my own mortality. A classmate of mine lost his infant son to an inoperable brain cancer. A coworker of mine's mother took her own life. My boss has lost a brother and a sister in rapid succession. And now, I'm looking at the still form of a beautiful young woman, lying in a casket. It hit me pretty hard.
I shook hands with the mother and the older sister, both of whom were bearing up very courageously. I simply didn't know what to say to these people without sounding like an idiot. I felt so awful that they had lost somebody who was such a vital part of their life, and I simply had no similar experience. I was at a complete loss for words.
The eulogy was truly astounding. Person after person after person came to the front of the room to speak about how Julia had lit up their lives. No less than ten of her classmates called her their "best friend". On occasion, Julia would say "I'm the Queen of Everything!" and everybody pretty much seemed to agree with her. By all accounts, she was an intelligent, vivacious, athletic, talented woman. She was a dynamic member of her church youth group. Everybody kept coming back to the fact that Julia lived every single day of her life. She wasn't waiting to get out of high school to start her life...she was making every day real and vital, and using every moment to tie herself to the people around her.
I wanted desperately to be able to say the same thing about my life.
I developed such an enormous respect for this young woman, and I deeply felt the loss of never having met her. Then her little brother stepped up to the podium. I didn't even understand everything he said, but it was abundantly clear that he just wanted his big sister back.
At that point, I just came apart.
I simply had no idea what to do. I mean, nothing I can imagine how to do or say seemed to be at all worthwhile anymore. What is my petty knowledge and wisdom against the loss of a young life?
Emily and I had to leave. She was meeting with the organist to rehearse her part in the service in the morning. I made small talk with her older brother, Chuck, and we sang along on the hymns we knew. We made fun of the Catholic hymnal, which didn't have the four-part harmonies written out...just the melody. It was a very nice tension breaker. I really don't know if I could have taken much more of the eulogies...and I hadn't even met the poor girl.
Emily's singing was, as usual, magnificent. She was sight-reading almost everything, and just kept sounding better and better and better. I have a great deal of regard for her skill and professionalism...she's awfully good at what she does.
The next morning, we attended the funeral mass. Emily was up in the choir loft, and I was sitting between her younger sister Kathryn and her brother. The homily (that's Catholic for "sermon") was well delivered, and centered on the fact that Julia had gone to her rest, and it was up to us left behind to continue in her footsteps.
Towards the end of the mass, we Protestants made the common mistake...we forgot that the Catholics often break The Lord's Prayer into two parts. I made a (totally inappropriate) joke about that to Kathryn, something about "You can always tell who the Protestants are when that happens..." or something equally inane.
The priests served communion, and I reflected on what this experience meant to me. I know that I haven't had any revelations that lots of people haven't had before, but it was the first time that the importance of living fully had been made REAL to me. I felt awful that it took the death of a young woman to get me to realize this.
It occured to me that if each person in that sanctuary could take just a little bit of Julia's fire and passion, and light it in our own lives, then our world will be a much, much better place.
So, Julia, message received. Although I feel I know a little about you in death, I'd have very much liked to know you in life. Rest in peace.
Posted by Lee at 01:36 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
July 22, 2002
More on Snoopy Kisses
Monday, July 22, 2002
More details on the Snoopy Kiss Incident.
Friday night, Tommy and I went to the CD store to get some more discs, and then his (big finger quotes) friend [NAME CHANGED TO PROTECT THE INNOCENT] called him. She was going to swing by his house to say hello. Tommy now does dance of joy, and then panicks that his house is a mess.
It's not, he's just compulsive.
So, [NAME] comes in and tells us some amusing anecdotes about her cats. We tell her about Tommy's disc golf prowess. I beat a hasty retreat, having cleverly noted that I am the third wheel.
Couple hours later, Tommy IMs me. Transcript follows. I'm MoofPC, he's Synnibarr.
Synnibarr: So, I learned something about women just now...
MoofPC: ...they're different from boys?
Synnibarr: no...how you shouldn't snoopy kiss them while you in the middle of a makeout session.
MoofPC: ROFL.
Synnibarr: That's bad.
MoofPC: Dude, you're pretty smart.
MoofPC: She didn't think that was very funny?
Synnibarr: Dude...that was about the dumbest thing I've done in a long time.
Synnibarr: No...she didn't.
MoofPC: Like "Wow, I'm SO out of here!" didn't like it?
Synnibarr: Not, I'm SO outta here, didn't like it...but "Uh...I'm going not going to kiss you anymore and I'm ready to go now."
Synnibarr: Hmmm....that could be a "I'm so outta here".
MoofPC: Wow.
MoofPC: eek.
MoofPC: That really sucks.
Synnibarr: Yeah. Dumb me, eh?
OK, so I'm SUPER amused right now.
* MoofPC is giggling pretty uncontrollably right now
Synnibarr: I did say, "Ok, that was pretty dumb. But I'm not going to take it back!"
MoofPC: it hurts...it hurts...
Synnibarr: hahahahaha...I'm glad that you're getting a massive amount of pleasure out of this...
MoofPC: too....funny....
Synnibarr: hahahahha
Synnibarr: Enjoying this?
MoofPC: Dude.
MoofPC: You have NO idea.
MoofPC: ROFL
Synnibarr: Is this going to go on GeekIssues.com [sic]?
MoofPC: ...
MoofPC: Not a bad idea.
MoofPC: No, because you'd have to know what a Snoopy kiss is to get it.
So, no, I can't post it on geekissues.org, 'cuz it wouldn't be funny. But with an explanation of what a snoopy kiss is, it will be funny. See how that works?
A Snoopy kiss is like the kisses Snoopy liked to give Lucy. You know, just a big broad lick to the cheek. Here's the setup, excerpted from the conversation.
MoofPC: So, did you preface it with "Hey, you know what a Snoopy kiss is?", or did you just, like, lay it on her?
Synnibarr: Yes, I did.
Synnibarr: I told her that I didn't she she was ready for it.
Synnibarr: didn't think she was...
MoofPC: And you were right.
Synnibarr: After a few more kisses, I tilted her head to the left and then...SLURP!
MoofPC: ROFL
So now, kind reader, you too know...girls do not typically like Snoopy kisses. Use this knowledge only for good.
Posted by Lee at 01:34 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
July 20, 2002
On Putts and Snoopy Kisses
Saturday, July 20, 2002
If Tommy asks you if you know what a Snoopy kiss is, make sure he doesn't give you one. Trust me.
Tonight, I got out of work and went to play disc golf with Tommy over at the Plano course. We play nine holes, and manage to only have to go traipsing through the forests and creeks two or three times to retrieve wayward discs. Yay! We're getting better!
Tommy has become quite a good putter. We were both playing reasonably well...hitting pars on most of the holes. On the last hole, Tommy did about the most amazing thing I've ever seen.
Thomas M. Falgout, on July 19, 2002, sank an eighty-five foot putt.
It was a thing of beauty. I saw him throw, and then looked down at something in my bag, thinking he'd just made a good approach shot. Then I heard the distinctive "CHING!" of a disc golf pin, and looked over to see Tommy's disc in the basket. He was flabbergasted. I was astounded.
I shouted "DO NOT MOVE!" and ran over to him. I wanted to pace off the length of that putt. In high school, I was in the marching band for four years, and I still know how to do an eight-to-five step. (Eight steps in five yards.) Forty-five steps is 28.125 yards, or 84.375 feet. Yowza. Tommy is the putt-master.
Posted by Lee at 01:33 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
July 18, 2002
Eight Legged Freaks is EXACTLY What It Sounds Like.
Thursday, July 18, 2002
So the previews roll. There was an ad for a new Stephen King movie, Dreamcatcher. Among my friends, it is not considered poor form to talk (even loudly) during previews. Your mileage may vary. At any rate, I observed to my pals that Mr. King hasn't written a good book in about 20 years. (A couple conspicuous exceptions are The Eyes of the Dragon and Misery. Green Mile was pretty good too.) This movie looked absolutely horrible. No idea what the foozle (bad guy/force/entity) was. Just a bunch of people looking scared. At one point, this guy was emoting open-mouthed horror to the camera for what seemed like fifteen minutes. I mean, I was counting the dude's molars and checking for tonsillitis. It was dumb, and did not want me to watch the movie. So I stage-whisper, pretending to be our on-screen friend: "How did I get in this horrible movie?" Well, the people in front of us heard me too, and laughed heartily. Life is good when you're me.
So we're watching the movie. And it's just what we want. Spider farmer feeds biohazard-infected crickets to pet spiders. Spiders escape. Havoc ensues. Spiders grow to improbable size. More havoc ensues. Humans make series of catastrophically stupid decisions to combat new arachnid threat. Havoc ensues. You get the picture. In other words, you're TOTALLY rooting for the spiders. At one point, this fellow with long hair and a long beard shows up on screen. Simultaneously, no less than five people from our two naughty rows of film-goers scream "JESUS CHRIST!" and giggle uncontrollably. More havoc. Repeat ad nauseam.
So, anyhow, if you have seen a commercial for the movie, you already know if you want to see it or not. Just be glad you didn't have to watch it with us.
Posted by Lee at 01:32 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
July 16, 2002
RIP Eudora.
Tuesday, July 16, 2002
*sniff*
It's a sad day. Today, I lost a good friend. No, not a human friend...a computer friend. My loyal sidekick. My protector from macro viruses. My messenger. My trusty email program, Eudora, crashed on me one too many times, and I've kicked her to the curb.
I wish it hadn't come to this. I'm pretty good with the computers, and I could not figure out a) why she started crashing and b) how to make her stop. After leaving the program minimized for a while, if I came back in and tried to read a message, I'd get a runtime error.
I Googled for a solution.
I reinstalled Eudora.
I reinstalled WinXP.
No dice.
This is terribly hard for me! I loved that Eudora just worked so much better than that Outlook and Outlook Express nonsense. Yes, those are the ones that everybody used...but I liked using something different. Mostly because I knew how it worked inside and out, and partly because I knew I'd be way less susceptible to viruses...but there was definitely a streak of non-conformism in there.
(I'll try to keep my rants in nice blockquoted parentheticals, so you nice people can ignore them if you want.)
But, she stopped doing the job. Crashed too much. Stopped letting me page from email to email with the spacebar. Started getting kludgy managing a lot of filters. Wanted me to pay more money for upgrades. Started maximizing itself whenever it felt like checking mail, interrupting what I wanted to be reading at the time.
(This last is a nigh-unforgivable sin. Lee's Rule of Operating System Etiquette No. 1: The User Is God. The User gets to look at WHATEVER THEY WERE LOOKING AT, and if the computer has a problem that requires the user's attention, it may ask quietly for guidance instead of STEALING THE FOCUS AND DEMANDING IMMEDIATE ATTENTION. So let it be written. So let it be done.)
So? What's a guy to do?
I'm picky. Yes, I want a perfect email client. I want it to be powerful, and flexible, and unobtrusive. I would prefer it be Free (both as in "Free speech" and "free beer"), but I'm willing to pay for a quality product (but I had better get "free (beer) upgrades"). So what did I do? I'm auditioning new programs. Pegasus was supremely flakey. Microsoft's options are just not options. So I found this program called The Bat! that a friend of mine uses. It's called The Bat!
It'll be like any new relationship. A getting-to-know-you period where I stub my toe lots.
(Like the fact I can't check for new email with Control-M. Alt-F2? Whose stupid idea was that? I can't do that with one hand! What's the matter with you people?!) And the non-modal dialog boxes. God, I hate non-modal dialog boxes. (Non-modal dialog boxes are the ones that come up and prevent you from doing anything else in the program you're trying to use until you dismiss them. The variety I'm whining about right now appear over ALL PROGRAMS YOU TRY TO USE...like right now, I'm staring at my new hussy's "Moving Messages..." process thermometer while typing this, wondering what UI Jedi was responsible for this little disaster...)
But, maybe, at the end, I'll have a new digital friend. Or another lame thing to rant about on my web page. Ehh...go figure.
Posted by Lee at 01:31 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
July 08, 2002
Show Us On The Doll...
Saturday, June 8, 2002
Disclaimer: This story contains the account of a joke at somebody's expense. Said joke is in fairly poor taste. If any of ye be faint of heart or spirit, go nae further. For DEATH awaits ye ALL with nasty big pointy teeth!
Every Friday night, Tommy and I go play geeky role-playing games until the wee hours of the morning. My pal Bill (who's also an aero geek at UTA) hosts these get-togethers (gets-together? What would be the correct plural?) in Flower Mound. Normally, Eric and John (who looks like Henry Rollins, only shorter) are there, and we have a rotating crew of frequent players including Bill, Zack, Zack 2.0 (aka Ryan, Zack's twin brother. As an aside, had I met Ryan first, it would be Ryan and Ryan 2.0, Ryan's twin brother. No offense express or implied.) and Mike (who's pretty quiet, and pretty funny).
Tonight, there were about seven of us. Tommy, John, Bill, Eric, and I went to Steak N' Shake (this one to be exact) to eat. I wasn't hungry, so I got the largest strawberry shake in captivity. I asked our (very amusing and patient) waitress Jamie whether they served anything in a wastebasket-sized container, and she told me no. Rats.
So anyway, Zack and a New Guy show up. Well, he was new to me, anyway, and that's all that matters. New guy's name was Kitt. Now, back when I was in third grade, I LOVED Knight Rider. I used to try to talk to my watch, hoping the cool black Trans-Am would pull up in front of school. Well, unfortunately, it didn't happen. Said Trans-Am was a computer-enhanced SUPERCAR named...wait for it...K.I.T.T. (Knight Industries Two Thousand, if memory serves). Now, I have to give my new table-mate Kitt (the dude, not the black car) some slack...I know he's been dealing with this joke since he was walking upright. But man! I LOVED that show! That was the coolest car! So I HAD to make a comment.
He didn't think it was very funny.
OK, fair enough. I offer an olive branch, and he more or less accepts it. Now, when we're actually gaming (as opposed to eating) we kinda make fun of each other. A lot. And we laugh at each other. A lot. Especially new guys...you gotta sink or swim with this crew.
Well, it was about to go to a whole new level.
Somebody mentioned Spider-Man, the cool new movie. (Oh, and by the way, YIKES. Do not go to http://www.spiderman-movie.com/. You will be sad. You'll be redirected to http://hanky-panky-college.com/, and then barraged with a bunch of pop-up windows that it's really hard to close rapidly enough to make your boss not see them. You've been warned.) Kitt opined that the CGI (computer generated imagery) sucked. There was pretty general disagreement at the table...most of us really liked the movie, and thought it was done pretty well. Kitt started to mention that he thought the story was well done, he just had some technical issues with the way the computer characters were integrated into the movie. Fair enough, but blood was already in the water, and we were starting to circle.
We were trying to figure out what exactly had gotten his underpants in a wad about this movie. Somebody asked whether Spiderman had taken Kitt's lollypop. Then we were wondering if the director of the movie had inflicted some sort of childhood trauma. Somebody (I think it was Bill) said "Did Stan Lee abuse you as a child?" (Stan Lee is one of Spider-Man's co-creators)
Then Tommy drops Tha Bomb.
Tommy calls out, "Show me on the doll where he touched you!!"
Utter silence.
Then, everybody at the table ERUPTS in laughter. At that point, I become absolutely incoherent...tears are streaming out of my eyes and I'm pounding on the table. John, sitting across from me, is laughing hysterically. Eric looks like he's going to fall out of his chair. Kitt, well, Kitt is nonplussed. Poor guy, I mean, here he is, among a group of relative strangers, and they're all laughing hysterically at his expense. Been there, done that, guy...I do feel for you.
But it was really funny.
Posted by Lee at 01:26 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack