Mmmmm...

As a native of Central New York, buffalo wings are near and dear to my (slowly clogging) heart.

In high school, we used to get lunch at a place that had terrible, terrible pizza but an amusing waitress who would loudly alert the patrons when a local transvestite happened to be in the neighborhood. We also ate a lot of wings there that weren't necessarily that great but did have the one property that good wings should: If you arrive with clogged sinuses, they'll be blown wide open by the time you leave.

Anyhow, I stumbled across this page with wing-eating techniques. I'm partial to the small bone twist and the finger.

And man, I could sure go for some wings now.

Nothing to see here

No, I don't have anything to say today. Sorry. I'll try to be more interesting next week.

But, as of Monday, I'm headed off to the West Coast for a nice, long break. I'll keep you posted.

Still waiting for my SAG card

When I was a lad, some casting director decided it would be a good idea to put me in an educational video. Filming took place over a couple of days, and some months later there was a premiere at a local movie theater. I then promply forgot about the project for the next 17 years or so.

(By the way, that and a turn as Gingerbread Child in one performance of a community opera company's rendition of "Hansel & Gretel" are the extent of my "acting" career.)

Anyhow, my sister managed to track down a copy of this video and gave it to me for my birthday last year. I had searched for it on and off over a couple of years and found only that it remains in the inventory of some obviously under-funded public school districts in the U.S. and Canada.

So, to the children of Saskatchewan, I'm sorry.

It *feels* old, dammit

Now that I'm in official countdown mode to 3-0, which I know is not that big a deal these days but is still not a fact I'm willing to accept, I can take pretty much anything as a sign I'm old.

Case in point: I now work with people who went to college with a good friend's younger brother. I remember when this kid was born, forcing us to take our GI Joes elsewhere lest we disturb the sleeping tot. Now he's all grown up and galavanting around Southeast Asia.

I am tempted to shake my fist at him and tell him to quit having so much fun.

Also: For the first time in a long time -- and quite disturbingly -- there are more non-alcoholic drinks in my fridge than drinks containing alcohol. (And that amounts to a whopping two bottles of Samuel Adams. Light.) Man, I suck.

Weird news item of the moment

Normally, I wouldn't make light of an injury that led to someone being blinded, but this is too strange.

A Connecticut man is accused of assaulting his wife with ... produce.

And you thought carrots were supposed to be good for your eyesight ...

Light side of the Dark Side

Someone with entirely too much time on his/her hands has edited new James Earl Jones dialogue into "Star Wars" scenes. It's the funniest thing I've seen in some time.

[I originally found this via Screenhead.com]

Must ... not ... move

Because it is too damn hot to think of anything today, here's some random stuff:

• The World Cup is over, but you can never have too many Zidane animations.
• Apparently, lots of people think their cats look like Hitler.
• Popped collars*.

* I had planned an entry on my recent evening in Georgetown (clever title: Friday Night Whites), but as I said, it's hot. My town is not exactly teeming with young people, so I had no idea that the popped collar was still the rage.

Other highlights of my night included witnessing a Seinfeld-like battle over parallel parking (sedan and SUV both at 45-degree angles; sedan attempting to back into parking space, SUV trying to pull in head-first) and a teenager at a taco joint showing off his palm-reading skills to a rather smitten staff.

Yeah, my life is exciting.

Patrick Ewing would be proud

Remember how Patrick Ewing would look after a particularly grueling stretch of a game -- say 30 or 40 seconds?

Yeah, that's pretty much what D.C. in July does to you. Now, I don't have particularly prolific sweat glands. After a 45-minute workout, I might need to wipe a towel across the back of my neck. But my pores are pretty much Niagara Falls these past few days.

Not that you wanted to know this, but if I'm miserable, you're all my company.

Bored now

In my line of work, this week is quite literally the slowest time of the year. Yesterday, the last significant piece of work I did was four hours before the end of my shift.


All this reminds me of a job I had in 1997, the summer after my sophomore year of college. I was supposed to be helping a research group put up a Web site, but they never got around to the part where they actually gave me something to put on said Web site.

So, I spent most of my days thusly: Eavesdropping on conversations. Cursing at the computer for cheating at Hearts. Opening and peering into my (empty) desk drawers. Looking through every directory on the network to see if something was ready to be posted on the Web site. Hitting the computer for giving my shitty cards in Solitaire. Counting down the last hour until lunch. Taking a two-hour lunch and having no one in the office notice. Coming back from lunch and immediately looking at the clock. Playing with Photoshop in an effort to create graphics, on the off chance I eventually had reason to create a graphic. Becoming an expert at locating and marking explosive devices. Counting down the last hour until it was time to go home. Leaving the office to a cheery "Thanks for coming in!"

(By the way, residents of New York state, I was paid with your tax dollars for doing all of this.)

It got so bad that at least once I actually went to my other job just so I had something to do. The real kick in the gut, though, was that this lousy job was located in the same building in which I was taking a summer class two nights a week, so on those days I had the distinct pleasure of spending the entire friggin' day in the same stuffy building.

After that summer, I distinctly remember vowing never to have any sort of job related to a Web site again, so I'm glad things worked out for me in that regard.

Security is our priority

My company is under the false impression that I would like to have the option of working from home, so instead of a desktop computer I have a laptop. Since I don't take my laptop home, I am supposed to "secure" it in my cubicle.

Recently, the company spent god-knows-how-much on laptop locks for everybody. So for a few months I dutifully tied up my computer each night. More recently, the company decided these locks weren't good enough. One day I was greeted at work with a bright red notice on my desk informing me that my laptop was not "secure," despite being locked up. This was strike one, and if I reached three strikes, security would take my laptop and report me to my supervisor.

Basically, if I didn't take further steps to make sure my laptop was not stolen, security would make sure it was stolen.

All of this is despite the fact one must get past two security checkpoints and through a door secured by an ID card reader just to get in the office to begin with. To those of you who know where I work: No, I am not exaggerating.

So now, instead of being secured with an alarmed lock, my laptop sits in a drawer that doesn't lock at all. I haven't received any notices from security.