The Portland Not-Quite-Daily

2006-07-11T13:46:00.000-07:00

The World's Biggest Stage ...

Now that it's over, I feel its the best time to finally write about the World Cup. I had a great time watching it. I loved watching the cup about as much as any American really could. Thats not meant to sell myself or the American team short, I meant it as honestly as possible, I loved watching it. There were some great games. It certainly has more international intrigue for me than does the other sporting event separated by a four-year period, the Olympics. Under no other conditions would a scoreless tie between the Netherlands and Argentina be worth watching. Something about a single sport drawing so many people in is more inspiring than countries fielding teams or individuals in multiple events, some of which they are flawless at, the Norwegians and their ski-jumping, others they have no possible reality of competing in, the Kenyans and their ski-jumping.

My one complaint about the Cup however is the officiating. Not terribly suprising coming from an American fan having watched the USA-Italy game. The officiating, coupled with all the diving on the field made it a hard tournament to watch for me. Knowing that a player's acting skills could affect the outcome of the game should he sell a foul well enough to get a free or penalty kick. The diving was ludicrous especially when contrasted by one paticular foul I saw in a game between the Ukraine, and I believe Switzerland in the Round of 16. The Ukrainian player had the ball near the opposing goal line when he was fouled hard, but stayed on his feet with the ball and attempted to continue the play before it was whistled dead and a free kick awarded. He got his kick without having to sell it. If the players played honestly like that, I think it would've been an even better tournament without all the controversy over the officiating.

My other complaint is the American audience ... or lack thereof. I was in the box office at the movie theater not more than a few hours after the completion of the Germany-Argentina quarterfinal game. Two kids walked up to buy tickets, each wearing replica jerseys of the German national team. My knowledge, freshly reinforced by the game I had just watched, allowed me to recognize the numbers on the jerseys to be those of Ballack and Klose. While processing their tranaction, I asked if they had caught the game this morning. They asked "What game?", I replied "The Germany World Cup game.". "Oh, no. What happened?", "Um, Germany won on PKs" ... "PKs?" they asked. "Penalty kicks ... 4 to 2. It was a good game." ... "Cool. I knew they'd beat Italy". They walked away, hopefully shamed for being outed as the posers they were.

Some come on back, World Cup. I had a great time, even if I got very little sleep, often getting up at 5am to catch games in the first round. I'd do it all over again.

2006-06-30T12:01:00.000-07:00

Barely Legal ...

Well, last night was my first time driving the Taurus with it's less-than-funtional lighting for a significant difference in front of a cop. I was driving away from work, to Emily's house. I missed the turn that would have gotten me there the fastest, so I decided to take the next quickest route which is a road I normally never drive. Not 5 seconds after making my turn onto Country Club Road or Willakenzie whichever it is, I realize the car behind me has a light bar and looks menacing. I place a call to Emily to let her know that should I get pulled over I'll be a little late.

I'm feeling confident for some reason. So long as I don't let my foot slip from off the brake pedal, I should be fine. Sure the high-mounted brake light would be running the whole time, something that would look a little out of the ordinary, but I didn't think it would be that note worthy to the cop. And should I mess up and get pulled over, I think I'll be able to talke my way out of a ticket with my intelligent voice and promises to get it fixed. Oh, and I'm white. I forget how long Country Club Rd. is. It seems to last forever. I get to an intersection, the light is red, no change in the brake lights. If this cop is paying attention, he's not too worried. I realize I should've hopped in the left turn lane, but I don't know the road well, and my daytime running lights aren't exactly as bright as the regular lights, so I didn't really even see the lane lines and I'm a little nervous as it is. Add to that the fact that I've got no rearview mirror that would otherwise keep the cop's light bar in my periferal vision so I'm having to continually check my sideview mirrors to see if he's going to light me up.

The light turns green and I pull away, no change in the brake lights, still on full force. The cop follows. I curl around under the Ferry Street bridge heading towards the intersection with Centennial/MLK. I know now to hop in the left turn lane as I need to get myself back to Coburg road. I hit the turn signal and pull over into my lane rather abruptly. Nothing like playing it cool, right? The cop pulls over into the right turn lane and peels off in the opposite direction down MLK. My turn light turns green and I leave the cop in the distance as I'm headed away from him. Evidently my foot never slipped off the brake pedal leaving my posterior in the dark. The car actually was running a little rough by the end of the whole ordeal, I must've been hammering on that brake pedal. I survived that brush with the law, but who knows about the future. Stupid Taurus.

2006-06-27T15:49:00.000-07:00

You Win Again PCs, ... Apple, You're Worthless ....

Absolutely worthless. And I don't want to hear any argument on this one. The other night, I laid down to go to sleep and decided I wanted a little bit of music playing. I dropped an Umphrey's McGee CD in my computer, the only player I've got that works right now, and opened up iTunes. I've had iTunes for some time, and it really does hold all of my music that I don't keep on discs, I really never even open up Windows Media Player unless I'm watching a video.

I hit play and lay down. The song starts playing but hardly is it a smooth, seamless stream of audio. The music skips every single second, on the second. A little glitch that interupts the music. This can't be. I'd listened to this particular disc not long before and knew that it wasn't scratched. I get up, and close iTunes and try WMP. A perfect, flawless stream of audio emits from my headphones, and this was one great concert. I was listening so intently to the immaculate aural tones that I didn't actually fall asleep for some time.

So whats the deal, Apple? Is it just that you don't like burned CDs, or are you really that bad? My guess is the latter. I can't foresee a time in the near future where my computer is really going to fail. I have no problems other than the fact that my RAM is ludicrously miniscule, but that is an easy and not terribly costly fix. Beyond that, my present roommate builds PCs and has been itching to build me a custom one as soon as we hit on a unique and functional case for one. The current idea we're tossing around is to build it inside the mini fridge that I've got. That little brown one. So long as we don't compromise the cooolant system or the insulation, there would never be an issue of over-heating. Moisture might be an issue, and I'm not exactly sure that we are skillful enough to mod the thing without compromising the integrity of the insulation. We're thinking about it.

2006-06-24T02:00:00.000-07:00

GARRRR!!!! (Whimper) ...

You'd think after sustaining one toenail-threatening stubbing, I'd move the toolbox from under my bed, where it is oh so slightliy out of sight, but no, I had to leave it there and run into that bastard again. I took a picture of my pinky toe after the first run in, the only stubbing I'm aware of to date that actually involved bleeding, but I'll refrain from posting it. For one, with my digital camera down for the count, I had to take it with the celly, and it's also a little gruesome. And two, who really wants to see a bloody toe?

2006-06-23T02:31:00.000-07:00

One Hell of a Car ...

Well, I'm not entirely sure that the Taurus will break 200,000 miles now that I've had enough time in Eugene to analyze my driving habits. I last filled up my gas tank on Tuesday, June 6. Thats right, the same 6.6.06 that nobody freaked out about. Since then, I've accumulated a mere 70 miles on the odomoeter. 70 miles in the last 17 days. Thats an average of 4 miles a day.

I had previously estimated that in 6 months time, I may break the 200k mark, but the new calculation suggests otherwise. The Taurus is presently sitting on about 193,000 miles. Those remaining 7000 miles, at 4 miles a day would take me 1750 days or about 4 years and 9 months. If I'm still driving the Taurus in almost 5 years, I'd consider that a bad thing. The car really needs replacing. Seriously.

I would drive more, but I am presently restricted from driving during half of the day. Which half? The nightime half of the day. I guess it's not dark a full 12 hours a day, but I can't drive when it's dark ... or at least I shouldn't. Why? The headlights inexplicably don't work, but it's not that simple. The daytime running lights work and the highbeams work so I know I've got power and functional bulbs. However when I switch the lights into the "on" position, nothing comes out the front though I have tail lights. If I turn it back off, the daytime lights come on, but that means I have no operational tail lights. This renders the back of my vehicle invisible to drivers behind me. I'm pretty sure this is something the coppers wouldn't care for.

How do I fix this situation? When forced to drive at night, which does happen since I often work closing shifts, I have to keep a foot on the brake pedal so that the brake lights are illuminated, simulating tail lights. I can turn the headlights into the "on" position so the tail lights are on and then hold the highbeams lever. And I do have to hold it. Normally there is the option of setting and forgetting the highbeams, a "stay on" mode, as well as pulling on the lever to flash them. However nothing comes out the front when I put the lever in the "stay on" mode so I have to hold the lever in the flash position. This hampers my actual control of the steering wheel and signaling for a turn. I'm sure that riding the brakes while trying to drive at full speed will only wear down the brakes sooner, and I'm sure hurts my gas milage causing me to burn more gas than otherwise necessary.

Some other problems with the Taurus:

- I no longer have a stereo in there since it drained my battery to the point that the car wouldn't start. Instead of removing the player, I just disconected the fuse it runs on.

- That same fuse also deactivates the dash lights. The same dash lights that aren't operable anyway since they only turn on when the headlights are on. But remember, I don't drive with the headlights on, I drive in daytime running lights mode.

- That same fuse also deactivates the clock. Not a huge deal, but looking down at the celly is a little more tedious.

- That same fuse also deactivates the side view mirrors so that you can't readjust them with the levers inside. You can still manually push the mirrors, but you shouldn't have to. Man has moved beyond such uncivilized activities.

- The rearview mirror is presently detached from the window. This only happened in the last week. The story I like to tell is that Emily ripped it off in a fit of rage, but the true story is she ripped it off while driving the Taurus. She was practicing driving it since she was going to borrow it while I borrowed hers to drive to Portland, a journey the Taurus wouldn't make. We got in, her in the drivers seat, she adjusted the seat, and went to adjust the mirror, and with no exceptional pressure put on it, it popped off the glass in her hands.

- The gas gauge only reads at 3/4 full even when full. This way, you don't know how full the gas tank really is. The best thing to do is to go off the tripodometer and fill when you get to around 225 miles from the last fill-up. However ...

- The tripodometer sometimes gets stuck on 9.9 miles. Or 99.9 miles. And who knows how long ago that actually happened? I'm then forced to go off the gas gauge. When it reaches empty, I figure there's a 1/4 tank left and I might as well fill it.

- A/C doesn't work.

- Defroster doesn't work.

- Heater doesn't work.

- Oil leak ... a considerable one. I roll with a case of oil in the car at all times.

- Gear shift selector doesn't show the proper gear. When you're in drive, it appears that you're in neutral. You have to count spots down to drive. 1 ... 2 ... 3 and you're in drive.

I'm sure there's more, but I've become accustomed to them so I don't even think of them anymore. I'll update you should I recall any more.

2006-06-10T14:49:00.000-07:00

Slave to the Traffic Light ...

Well, I had been one of the strongest forces in the "off to the dump" camp, but now I am entirely reliant on the vehicle that I had left for dead at the parents house. Neglected for 8 months whilst "free-loading" in a downtown apartment only a few blocks from my place of employment, I had no need to drive, but these days the old family wagon is my sole means of transport since I'll be damned if I walk the mile to work. Maybe it's more than that. I'll watch the odometer on the drive tonight.

About that odometer, it's closing in on quite a milestone. 200k is not too far off. Driving at my current pace, I might break it in 6 months. Of course my vanity is pushing me to dump the Taurus as soon as possible and upgrade, but my wallet, or more accurately my piss-poor hourly wage is holding me back.

By the way, it does not look this good. This picture is a few years old, just after it had been washed. It's current state is somewhat dirtier. I'll try to grab the pictures from the parents, but after 8 months of neglect, it was so covered in brown stuff that it looked camoflauged. I washed it after getting it running again, but it was hardly a perfect job.

2006-05-30T04:32:00.000-07:00

So Much Drinking ...

Within so little time.

4 Sessions. The newer "micro" from Full Sail in the exact same stubby, ugly bottle as Red Stripe.
2 Wild Turkey's and Pepsi. Tasty is as tasty does.
1 Irish Cream and Chocolate milk. A yummy addition to the drinking line-up. And presumably more fattening than some of the others. Milk'll do that.

All in approximately 5 episodes of season 1 of Arrested Development. Nothing like watching AD with a newbie. But then who hasn't seen any AD yet? A fuckin' newb. That's who.

2006-05-22T10:50:00.000-07:00

Hey Geico ...

We all love your "Cavemen" commercials. This much is true. The "Tiny House" was great, I guess even the squirrels that intentionally made that car crash was decent, but let's not get me started on the Gecko. Actually I think he's adorable, but thats another blog post.

However you guys don't seem to know a good thing when you've got it. As for the "Cavemen" commercials, as great as they are, they are played far too frequently, and I think we need to see some follow-up commercials. Please further the story a little. Lets see some Cavemen at an art museum, or standing around with cigars and brandy snifters. Or how about a nerdy, computer repairman Caveman, a departure from the intellectual Caveman, rather more of a brainy, technologically gifted Caveman. Come on now. I know you can do this. If you can make me bite as hard as I did on the "Tiny House" commercial, I know you can put together some quality sequels to the Cavemen. Make it happen.

Also, can I have a job? I haven't had anything else come through so far. Please consider this post as my official job application.

References availble in the links section of this page. I look forward to you leaving a comment.

2006-05-12T13:53:00.000-07:00

Theres A Great Big Beautiful Tomorrow ...

Waiting at the end of the day for Joey Harrington. With his trade finally completed, Joey is free of the city of Detroit and the terrible football team residing therein. The Miami Dolphins are a team purportedly on the rise, and with Daunte Culpepper's current leg injury casting doubt over his readiness for the start of the season, Joey has a chance to get get some playing time and hopefully put his past behind him.

My only concern ... two concerns actually. One, Joey will press too hard and fail to perform yet again, this time finishing his career in the NFL. My second concern, is that I really don't care for the Miami Dolphins. There are teams that I hate more, to be sure, the Ravens, Falcons and Rams are at the top of my most-hated list, with the Titans, Raiders and Broncos not far behind, but I just don't have any interest in the Dolphins.

2006-04-28T12:38:00.000-07:00

Wells No-Go ...

I got my call back from Wells Fargo. I'm jumping ahead here ...

Wells Fargo called me within hours of the group interview on Wednesday, April 19th and asked me to appear for a solo interview (with several interested managers) the following Monday the 24th. I bought myself a new tie since I was otherwise going to be wearing the exact same clothes (only 1 suit, 1 pair of black socks, 1 good dress shirt, 1 pair undies), and went in feeling good. The fact that they called back so quickly to arrange the follow-up interview seemed promising. Add to that, the day after getting the call-back, I received a call from Pacific Continental, the first bank I'd applied and interviewed at in Eugene, asking for a second interview with their district manager to be held on Wednesday the 26th. I was on a bit of a high when I went in on Monday.

It all went very well. There were 3 managers there, one who claimed to the others that it was "really [her] interview" but that she wanted to sit back and let them do the questioning. I'm not sure if that means that she was the only one interested in me or perhaps they'd been taking turns doing the questioning, and she just wanted to pawn me off and kick back. It wasn't but 25 minutes and I was out of there. They said they would call me one way or the other by Thursday or Friday. Feeling like I had a great shot at Wells Fargo, I went the Pacific Continental interview much more relaxed. Added to the fact that the interviewing manager was more of a talker creating a more conversational interview, I was cool as ice during that one.

Now where was I? I got my call back from Wells Fargo and they informed me that they had chosen another applicant, but that I was eligible to reapply at anytime. I think if I do, I'll wait a little while since I only have the same set of stories to tell in response to their group interview questions which likely don't change much from time to time. I really don't feel too down about not getting Wells Fargo. I got the call while I was on my way to Eugene Toy and Hobby to buy my own set of Axis and Allies. Likewise, I'm putting in 40+ hours at the theater right now, so my paychecks there are going to be substantial. Similarly, though I will continue the job search since the theater is not a long term option, it is nice to know that I can still be helpful a little while longer at the severely under-staffed (manager-wise) theater.

Pacific Continental is supposed to get back to me by Monoday or Tuesday (the 1st or 2nd). I'm feeling really good about that one as well. Better almost than the Wells Fargo follow-up. Emily's father is friends with one of the higher-ups at the bank and his office happened to be at the branch my follow-up interview was at. I'd met him previously at a social function at Emily's church, and saw him again the morning of the follow-up interview. While in the presence of the interviewing manager, I gave an extra warm "hello" and handshake with my brand new best friend. And if I don't get this one, I'll probably have to go out and buy Axis and Allies: Europe, and not getting these jobs will qucikly become so expensive that I'll have to go out and get a second job just to afford not getting a second job.

2006-04-19T16:45:00.000-07:00

Working for the Man ... With Any Luck ...

Well, the interview at Wells Fargo went alright. Unbeknownst to me, it was a group interview, a fact that I was hardly the only one uninformed of. It was a group of 9 of us, sitting in front of 6 or 7 managers from various branches. Only one of the managers actually did any questioning while the others sat at a long table, either peering ominously and derisively at us, or beaming their stock “customer service” smiles our way.

The very first thing they did was break us up into pairs, with whom we conducted brief interviews and then presented our partner to the rest of the room. I was paired with a kid who exuded confidence to a fault. There were several basic questions on the sheet they gave us asking for name, knowledge and skills that you would bring to the job, foreign language skills, current or most recent employer and two words to describe yourself. I’d only prepared one, so I had to scramble.

This fool that I interviewed, Richard, decided, as an example of his confidence that he would not write down my answers to the questions but rather use his supposedly impressive memorizing capabilities. At the time, I was slightly concerned, but with all of his confidence, I thought he would deliver ... how wrong I was. The very first thing out of his mouth was “This is Paul”. He then caught himself knowing it wasn’t right, but not sure of what was. I turned to him and pointed to the name tag (that they supplied) on my coat. He then went on to practically make up an answer to the knowledge and skills part saying things about filing and organizing and computer skills, skills which I possess to a degree, but not the ones I would’ve immediately highlighted. He said with a bit of disdain that I spoke only English and that I was formerly a manager for “Regional Cinemas out at the Valley mall” whereas I am presently a manager at Regal Entertainment Group. Lastly he altered my two descriptive words from “dependable and responsible” to “reliable and confident”. It wasn’t terribly far off I suppose, but better than what he suggested during our mini-interview session where he recommended not using two, unconnected adjectives, but making it sound more like a sentence (all two words of it) and saying something like “reliably confident” or “independently dependable”. I had to ask myself if he was fucking with me.

I then introduced him, tempted to provide the wrong name, but not wanting to look like an idiot myself. During our pre-interview, he rattled off, with no thought as to whether I could write nearly as fast, all of the skills he claimed to have which were mostly advertising, salesmanship, marketing, computers, business management and the like. I provided to the managers what little I’d been able to write down. As previously stated, he answered “a little bit of Japanese” to the question of foreign language abilities which is exactly what I told the group. He only responded “4-J” (the local public school district) to the current or most recent employer. During my presentation, I realized I didn’t know if he still worked there, so I turned toward him while introducing the answer to this question attempting to retrieve the information I needed, when he simply said, again, “4-J”. And the two words this kid decided would best describe his was, and I shuddered that I had to be the one to deliver his answer lest his unemployable stink waft my direction, “card player”. Indeed, while waiting in the lobby before the interview, he had a deck of cards and was seemingly harassing one of the other applicants with a game of some sort.

From this portion of the interview, we moved to a one where the manager leading the whole thing would ask your run-of-the-mill job interview questions to which we would raise our hands and about 4 or 5 people would provide their response. Given the lengthy responses of some individuals, there were only 5 or 6 questions asked, to which I, breaking out of my shell, actually voluntarily answered at least 3, but maybe 4, I don’t quite recall. Richard didn’t answer any questions, instead sitting back with his head back on the headrest of the chair, looking up at the ceiling for much of the session when he wasn’t trying to make comments about what other people had said to me or the guy on the other side of him.

After this, she asked two questions that everyone interviewing had to answer. The first was to rate yourself on a scale of 1 to 10 as to how competitive you are and then explain your reasoning. They had us write the number down, probably to lock us in to an answer and not alter our response based on what others were saying, though they didn’t have us show our number to anyone. Most people, myself included, chose a 7 or an 8. Everyone who answered thusly qualified it by saying that they are competitive enough to acquire that which they need without taking anyone down to do it. One girl answered 5, for the exact same reasons as everyone else, and commented that she must’ve just thought about the scale differently. Richard set himself apart again by answering 10, and in a contrast to an earlier, optional-answer question where all responses stated that it is wrong to simply sell products and services to customers without regard to what their actual needs are, he said that in all aspects of life, but particularly business, one had to “sell sell sell”. That, and I paraphrase as closely to his answer as I can recall, “if you’re selling cars, and someone comes onto the lot and says that they could get a better price for that car elsewhere, you gotta sell them that car now. Don’t let them of the lot without it. At least sell them a keychain. You gotta use your salesmanship to get them, get that customer, get that dollar”.

The second question, was a multi-parter just to acquire some basic information. They wanted to know what your minimum or maximum preferred hours were, if you could work on Saturdays, which location you’d prefer and whether or not you were a student. I answered that I was surely flexible with any and all of the requirements. Richard, said he had to have 40 hours, wouldn’t work weekends, wanted only one particular location, and that he was technically a student and launched into some story about how he “cut a deal” with the administrators to graduate high school early in that they’d give him the last half credit he needed if he got a full time job within one month of whatever date.

After everyone had answered, the conducting manager thanked us, said that we would receive notification within 2 weeks and said we were free to go. Richard jumped up and walked out of the office as fast as he could while the rest of us milled around for a bit schmoozing.

It was evident that several people, Richard amongst them, simply showed up not wanting the job, or not knowing how to interview in the slightest. One guy wore no tie, a minor offense to be sure, but it’s the little things, no? Another, nothing against him, just looked like a meek little guy, who was scared out of his pants to be there. He, like Richard, answered no question he wasn’t required to. Several others, just answered some questions in rather odd ways, or used language which, hardly harsh by anyone’s standards, just doesn’t belong in any job interview.

We'll have to see how this one turns out.

2006-04-17T15:43:00.000-07:00

What's in a name? ...

Well, truthfully, quite a lot of information is carried in an object's name. Even should that object be intangible such as this here blog you're reading. Why, this blog, the "Portland Not-Quite-Daily", is now an erroneously titled blog. And in that minor error lies a great deal of difference from reality.

Yes, unfortunately it is true. The PDX-N-Q-D is a liar. But I, it's author, have long been known as a liar, so I hope you hadn't gotten your hopes up. I am no longer located in the town that sits at the convergence of the Willamette and Columbia rivers. No, I am instead located in the town betwixt the Willamette and McKenzie rivers, about 100 miles south of the aforementioned town. (That one was Portland, this one is Eugene if you couldn't figure it out.)

Yes, the town of aging hippies and mindless student protesters (some of whom I'd pay more attention to if they followed this young lady's example) is now the place that I have the unfortunate ability to call home. Does anybody really wonder whether or not my alcohol and herbal-substance intake will spike now that I'm back in the Anarchist Capital of America? I personally have no doubt about it.

However, should this be a perfect world (and I believe that I wouldn't be wrong to assume all signs point to 'yes, it is'), my stay in this town will again only be a temporary one. There is presently no fixed termination point for my habitation of this smelly, useless town, but hopefully "the not too distant future" is a term that applies.

So what of the name? For the time being, I'll keep it where it is. An offical name change will occur at somepoint in "the not too distant future" (I've used the term already ... a good sign, or did I already use it up?). Something likely to the effect of "The Oregon Not-Quite-Daily", (so as not to depart much from the present title) or "The Oregonomist", or "The E-Town Crier". That last one works on several levels. Not only like a colonial town-crier that yells and tells people things, but also referencing my tears produced by being in "E-Town", as it were.

2006-03-30T21:19:00.000-08:00

Beer, Liquor, Beer, Liquor, Liquor, Liquor, Liquor, Beer ...

The solution to this riddle.

2006-03-29T12:48:00.000-08:00

Beer before liquor, never been sicke-blugghsaffasdsqweeeum. ...

Another throw-up. Crimeny.

2006-03-29T00:32:00.000-08:00

Liquor before beer, you're all in the cl-bluuugghshged!!! ...

I just threw up. Something tells me that old adage is flawed.

2006-03-24T10:24:00.000-08:00

Hot Blog ... Part Deux ...

Well, my response is about a week after the fact, but I needed to update the situation with the hot dogs. It was nothing. But you probably could have guessed that. Had it been something, and the arena exploded, there is no doubt that the news story would still be dominating the cable news networks, no?

But how about those NCAA games, huh? Gonzaga letting UCLA come back from 17 down? Duke falling to LSU? Texas making a run for national championships in football and basketball in the same year? I mean, I hate Texas as much as the next guy, but that would be cooler than Utah having the #1 draft pick in football and basketball last year. Partly because that was Utah and I hate Utah. Not just the school, but really the state as a whole.

Unfortunately, at this point I don't have a horse in the race anymore. With Gonzaga's collapse, I have no vested interest in the tourney. I could go for UCLA or Washington to bring the Pac-10 some respect, but I can't really bring myself to root for the Huskies, and I don't like many things related to California. I'll figure it out.

Update ...

An update to an update? You bet. I've determined who to follow for the remainder of the tournament. George Mason University. Not only because they are currently the lowest seeded team remaining, but because of their namesake's unofficial status as the father of the Bill of Rights. That's something good enough to root for, right? So long as you're not a communist, you'd agree with me. That's right.

2006-03-16T11:15:00.000-08:00

Hot Blog ...

In the Portland Not-Quite-Daily's first attempt at
live blogging an on ongoing, current event, I turn my attention to the bomb-sniffing dog that picked up a "hit" at Cox Arena, an NCAA Tournament site in San Diego, CA. A little fact about the situation that I believe to be under-reported, or a fact whose significance is not entirely realized is that the scent the dog picked up is "at or near a hotdog stand", according to the most current information.

Vigilance and diligence in these matters is always preferred, but at some point, someone, particularly the dog's handler needs to realize that the dog, while undoubtedly a professional at all times, smelled a hotdog, and wants a hotdog. FOX News held a phone interview with some guy who is purported to be an expert on matters with bomb-sniffing dogs, the FBI, and/or college basketball. In his interview, he understandably proclaimed that the FBI always takes any "hit" serisouly and that he was sure the FBI teams in the area would make sure it was clear before any game could continue. What he also said that encapsulates my theory, though I think he was just summarizing the facts is, " Those dogs smelled something that caught their attention at that hotdog stand."

And so another facet needs to be discussed here. Either the dog smelled the meat and wanted the meat because its a dog, and while it is doing a job, it is still a dog and wants that meat. Or the slim possibility that the dogs did in fact record an accurate "hit" near the hotdog stand which seemingly indicts the hotdog industry for the poor quality of their products. I personally wouldn't be terribly surprised to discover that hotdogs frequently include high explosives in their manufacture.

I don't know how to end a blog post that is about an ongoing story. There is no tidy way to wrap this up since my story has no end just yet. I guess I'll comment again when it's all said and done. Until then ...

2006-03-13T21:05:00.000-08:00

Broked! @#$$%#Q!!! ...

Damn it, my digital camera is broken. I don't believe it to be an entirely debilitating situation, but the part of the camera that acts as both the "On/Off" switch by twisting and the shutter release button by buttoning, not that digital cameras exactly have shutters, seems to have broken off while it was in my backpack recently.

(It's not supposed to look like that)

I haven't used the camera in a couple of days, so I don't know exactly when it happened, or exactly what caused the problem (the bag being set down hard while the camera was on the bottom?). I looked up Nikon repair shops online, and found one on NE Sandy Blvd, near Dr. D'Amico's former dentist office. You know the one. The one that the Beutler kids all went to for about 10 years longer than we really should have. The pediatric dentist with toys suitable for toddlers in the waiting room, and smart enough to be aware of the dentist-relevent parts of the Little Shop of Horrors soundtrack.

I'll have to use my next day off to trek home and get the car (not the Taurus, but Emily's car, for the Taurus is effectively dead. Seriously, this time.) and drive out to the repair shop and hope they can do something about it with out "hosing me in the ass". (Not my words. The words of a man, who while expressing his outrage over the prices of movie theatre concessions, informed me that he had "... figured it out. You guys are hosing me in the ass with these prices. Do you want to come over here [around the counter] while I bend over?" The man then walked away to watch his $9 movie.)

Frankly, a part of me would be interested in replacing the camera that I have. While searching for Nikon repair sites, I checked out the Nikon website and found a comparable camera that costs about $100 less than what I paid for the one I currently have. As well as the fact that the camera I currently have sucks AA batteries dry like there's no tomorrow. Until I fix or replace my camera, I won't be able to take the ground-breaking pictures that this blog has become known for. This seems like a fine time to bring back a Portland-Not-Quite-Daily classic photo.
Me and LeBron, bitches.

2006-02-28T12:35:00.000-08:00

Parasitic Wasps?! Eeeep ...

A breif news piece that aired on CNN's Headline News this evening, and probably a half a dozen other times in the last 2-3 hours talked about parasitic wasps that are trained to recognize smells and their potential use in the war on terror. These wasps are trained by feeding them their regualr diet of sugar water in the presence of whatever particular odor you desire them to detect. Then, as the logic follows, the bugs will act all crazed trying to find food when they smell their particular smell. Of course if you train them to associate the smell of TNT with food, then you could detect bombs. Genius, no?

My only problem is that bugs aren't cuddly or cute. A recent episode of Scientific American Frontiers (Alan Alda's greatest show? But what does he do that isn't great?) discussed dogs being used for bomb detection. Dogs that smelled odors with the same level of success and in the same particle parts (the low singles of parts-per-billion) as the bugs. And they did it while being cute and being dog like and having names like Suzie. Eating kibbles when they smelled the smells right, that's cute dog stuff.

And dogs are easy to understand. They smell a bomb, they sit down or bark. The bugs? ... they mill around a little more speedily than they normally do. Who likes bugs? And parasitic ones at that? Nobody. Who doesn't like dogs? Nobody. Except commies. They just plain don't like anything because the last 20 years have been hard on them. Boo hoo.

Long story short, forget these bomb-sniffing bugs. I'm used to the concept of bomb-sniffing dogs, and as much as I don't like it, drug-sniffing dogs. I'd rather have a dog bust me for smuggling 25 kilos of marijuana across the border than have some parastic wasp-in-a-jar and his nerdy wasp-handler read me my rights.

2006-02-23T17:33:00.000-08:00

I did it! ...

I've been a movie theater manager for more than a year now (you can go ahead and cry for me here, I already have), but in that time, I've seemingly avoided as much projection training as possible. Oh sure, I've learned how to thread and start a projector, I am fairly regularly scheduled projection shifts, and I do have a minimal ability to troubleshoot some of the more common issues of film projection. But in all this time, I've never had to build a movie, or "print", and succesfully avoided the need to learn by simply making myself unavailable for any training.

As it is, I assumed that I would never be put in a position where I would be required to build a print, and certainly not under any dead-line. However, just the other night, I was put in such a position. The night before, our print of Munich, a supposedly easy enough title to pronounce, but still one that receives butchering from the idiot customers ("Mun-itch" and the like, though not as bad as Syriana received) was scratched the fuck up by one of the regular projectionists. The scratching was bad enough to require an entire replacement print (a spendy thing indeed) and the building of that print fell to none other than me.

Fight Club had it partly right, or at least it was right 30+ years ago. The film does come on multiple reels, but no longer must a projectionist watch for the "cigarette-burns" and actually engage a second projector, or reel of film. Modern film projection uses a system of platters onto which an entire film's worth of reels are loaded, in order, all spliced together so that one push of a button runs the whole film. I've taken the certification test for this particular projection stuff, so as far as Regal knows, I can in fact build, but like I said, I'd just never had to. In the past, I've put together trailers in advance of the building that is done Thursday nights for the new shows on Fridays. It's something I can do to help, and not terribly fuck up.

Munich is an 8 reel film. That's long. Most are between 5 and 6. King Kong was another 8 reeler. Feasibly, our platters could do 9, and maybe a small 10 reel print, but thats really about it. Also, that would be a 4 hour film. Without an intermission, thats about the most you could do. All of the trailers were scratched up as well, so I really had to start from the beginning. Actually, I started part way in. I started with reel 1. Normally you'd have to start by putting the trailers on, then work your way into the film, but we didn't have replacement copies of all the trailers, so I would have to improvise and just didn't want to deal with that yet, so I figured I'd get the film all put together first. There is a way to drop in a reel, or trailers with other film already on the platter.

It took me the better part of the night. I had to go fairly slowly since I was also responsible for the threading and starting of all that night's films. With 2 sets of shows during this evening shift, that cuts out about 2 hours of building time. An experienced projectionist could build a print in an hour, but I'm new at this. I even worked through my break, though I later went to the computer and gave myself 30 minutes to make up for it. But by the end of the night, the whole thing was done. The first time I'd built a whole print myself.

Truth be told, a week earlier, I'd built a screening print
of Ultraviolet, and in under 2 hours since I got there at 8am (when the print arrived) and the screening was at 10. But this was the first time I'd built one with cues (to tell the projector to turn off the house lights, when to open and close the shutter, and when to stop the projector at the end of the show). Likewise, this print was going to be used for more than a single solitary screening, so any fuck-up would have to be fixed by someone else, and it would be viewed by more than the 3 people who came to see that screening.

2006-02-22T11:59:00.000-08:00

The Green-Russian? The Irish-Russian? Or Russo-Irish Cream? Necessity Remains the Mother of Invention ...

After the succesful drink mixing resulting in the Bloody Lawnmower and the Chocmonaut (a White Russian with Chocolate syrup, a play on the term 'Cosmonaut') I tried to get creative and work my magic again. Utilizing the main ingredients of the White Russian, I thought the addition of Irish Cream could only make things better. Sure it tasted okay, but I was really only put in the position of creating a new drink because I was out of milk, it was too late to go the stores (except 7-11, but c'mon) and I wasn't about to stop drinking, so anything would really taste okay. Anything except my one accidental (I was already drunk) creation, the Whiskey Dew.

At Busta Kappa, while in the nightly-drinking- to-hide-my-pain phase, I tried pouring myself a Jack and Coke (Pepsi). I started with the Jack, and while trying to pour the Coke (Pepsi), I inadvertently cracked open a Mt. Dew failing to notice the mix-up until it was already partially poured. I manned up and drank it down quickly (only further intoxicating myself) and tried again to fix the Jack and Coke (Pepsi) only to re-enact the original events and again choke down the newly created, Whiskey Dew.

Wait a second, I didn't actually create the Bloody Lawnmower. That was entirely Jeff's creation. Well, Jeff, Keegan, and Josh, the inhabitants of "The Barn". I only popularized it for the Busta Kappa bretheren and party-goers who reveled in my enthusiasm for utilizing Everclear, the drink of the poor drunk that just wants to get drunk. I honestly haven't been able to touch the stuff in months though a nearly full bottle lives in my freezer.

2006-02-21T11:01:00.000-08:00

Needing them Needles ...

A news story of "local significance" broke in the Portland area recently, as hypodermic needles were found in a Salem apartment complex's parking lot and "yard spaces". Needles that an officer interviewed by KGW hypothesized were used for the injection of methamphetamines. Meth, of course, is Oregon's official state drug, after over-taking Eugene's bubonic-Chronic.

Why bother telling you anything about this story? No, there is nothing exactly surprsing about this whole situation. Oregon does loves its meth. But the neighborhood 10-year old girl interviewed by KGW for the story was conspicuously filmed wearing purple latex gloves, supposedly intended to protect her from any diseases that may or may not be contracted from the dirty needles found in "Barbara, [her] aunt's, yard". The girl, Ashley Thomas, then promptly brushed the hair away from her face, with one of her gloved hands. Why bother giving the girl the gloves in the first place? Interview her inside her home, away from any of the needles, nullifying the need for gloves, or tell her not to touch her damn face. Damn kids.

2006-02-18T23:55:00.000-08:00

Escalating Etiquette ...

A bustling metropolis, Portland exactly ain't, but I don't think it is too much to ask that the people of Portland, most particularly those in the downtown area that I call home, to act as if they actually have somewhere to be and move around with a little hop in their step.

My complaint is mostly aimed at the escalator "riders" in Portland. People who seem not to realize that escalators can speed up their movement, and instead assume they are only there to rest their feet from the struggle of hauling their fat asses from one floor to another. There are in fact some of us in this town who are trying to get where we're going in a timely manner. I don't want to hear anyone suggest that I should leave for work earlier if I don't want to be late. These land cows should get a move on. If you walk while on an escalator, you'll get to where you're going faster, you bastards.

One of the things I was most impressed with during my time visiting Washington DC, was the fact that people there have a system for using the escalators, and everyone seems to know it. Stand on the right, walk on the left. If you want to move fast, the left side of the escalator is for you and all those with places to be (jobs). I wouldn't begin to suggest that the vast majority of work done by the DC citizens (D-Citizens?) is important, however that which is important work is quite important to a great many people, but the city is home to enough people who are in a hurry that they can expect to not be impeded in their travels. If only Portlanders could hit the gas and not slow me down.

Granted the escalators I typically find myself utilizing are inside a mall, a place associated with leisure time, but there are still those of us who don't want to slowly creep from one floor to another. I've had about all I can take of looking at the Sam Goody sales signs while stuck behind groups of high school girls who've piled onto the escalator ahead of me, though they clearly saw me cruising up the preceding escalator while, of course, they have no intention of moving with any speed. Yes, Sam Goody, 30-50% off is a tremendous deal, but most things you have are generally overpriced by about 30-50% as it is. Maybe that's why your company is going bankrupt and all your stores are closing.

If I were more of an ass, or at least more extroverted in my assery, I would simply shout at people as I boarded an escalator "Coming through!". I'm sure it would yield positive results, but I don't know if I could muster the cojones to make it happen. Until I finally get frustrated enough to finally shout at these strangers (something that likely won't happen until I get frustrated enough to invest in, and use an Uzi at work) I suppose I'll just sit behind the slowpokes and stew with anger.

<-- Uzi. Look how sick it is.

Or this bad ass.

2006-02-17T16:08:00.000-08:00

Cold as Ice ...

It is absolutely freezing in Portland today. I guess "absolutely freezing" would really be either 32 degrees farenheit (0 Celsius), or absolute zero, and the temperature is actually neither of those. The high was 37, but that must've been around midnight because it was well under 30 when I went to work at 8am, and is still only 29 degrees with a wind chill of 16. And of course I made the stupid decision not to wear a hat today while walking to work becuase it would mess up my immaculate hair. Damn my vanity. But now I'm off work, early no less, it's only 4:00, I'm kicking back to the reruns of Around the Horn and PTI on ESPN2 and a little afternoon booze. I think it's a good night I've got ahead of me.

2006-02-17T00:00:00.000-08:00

Worst Ad Campaign Ever ...

If you thought "The Lebrons" was weak, Adiddas' Kevin Garnett themed abomination-of-an-ad is worse yet. It lacks the clarity of the LeBron ad, where the individual incarnations of LeBron are, while chronologically incompatible, interacting with and clearly distinguishable from one another.

The KGs are simply various versions of the Kevin Garnett that we are all familiar with. Some existing as KG had he followed a different career path: one being a stand-up comedian, another a military officer, and the present day basketball player with yet another quite infeasibly as a gladiator clearly from the time of the Roman Empire. Which is it Adiddas? Are these multiple KGs from an alternate universe, a campaign I would accept at face value, or KGs from different points in time, more like the LeBron's ad, but again one, I've come to terms with and would accept. If Adiddas is attempting to suggest that all of these versions of KG are incorporated into and part of the Kevin Garnett we know, it is far from clear. Perhaps if at the end of the ad, they all assume the same pose, and overlap onto one another, morphing into the basketball-playing version, a clear message could be ascertained. But no.

Upon return from commercial, Around the Horn is presently being advertised as "brought to you in part by Adiddas and Keven Garnett, all five of him". With such a statement, Adiddas is attempting to avoid the ambiguity of the "LeBrons" Nike commercial, but in fact steps further into an uncertain realm with these 5 Kevin Garnetts who couldn't possibly co-exist, essentially being labeled by the announcer as seperate individuals.

I just don't get it Adiddas. And right now I can't think of what the fifth KG exactly is. Something stupid. Oh, that's right. He's a superhero. He flies in and catches some bitch who's falling off a building. What's she doing putting herself in position to fall off a building anyway?

Adiddas is late to the Nike-hosted chronologically-ambiguous-ad-campaign party, a party I wish was never thrown. And I don't even need to get into how severely over-rated Kevin Garnett is, do I? 11 years in the league and he's led his team out of the first round of the playoffs, what, one time? I know this is no time to talk being a Blazers fan. But his acheivements hardly justify his level of fame. And hardly justify the creation of this piss-poor ad.

2006-02-04T08:14:00.000-08:00

BCBG/Maxa-mum Nudity ...

Nude mannequins really shouldn't provide me with as much entertainment value as they do but consarn it, they do! Anatomically imprecise, headless pieces of plaster they may be, but scandalous and eye-catching they most certainly are. The BCBG/Maxazria store in the same Pioneer Place mall ("Sure, we're not busy, but we're not the Galleria!") that I have the unfortunate honor of working in, has had a mannequin in one of their street side disply windows completly unclothed for several days now. The immodest mannequin is by no means the only object in this display area as she (you didn't think I was talking about some dude mannequin, did you?) is flanked by 4 or 5 other decapitated but impeccably attired ladies.

She had been clothed at one point, but one has to wonder, 'why no longer?' Was the dress she was wearing discontinued, or out of stock? Was it mismatched with the others in the display, or potentially too risque for such a prominent advertising venue? If the latter option, they did not make a wise decision in dealing with it. Or for the conspiracy angle, was it to drum up attention for the store? Here I am, for crying out loud, blogging about a store I've never been into, and likely never will.

Whatever the problem may have been, could she not have been redressed or simply removed from the window were there nothing appropriate for her to wear? Instead they leave her there, naked as the day she was molded for all passers by to see. For young boys to pretend that they're not looking at, and for it to torment both my waking hours and my sleep with her smooth, silky curves, her plaster-white (for an obvious reason) skin (surface), and her strong but feminine shoulders unencumbered by an unecessary head. I'll dream of you, my sweet lady. I'll dream of you.

2006-01-31T22:36:00.000-08:00

Who Are the Ad-Wizards Who Came Up With This One? ...

Let me start by saying, "We won!" Regal Entertainment Group's erroneously named "The Twenty", recently called out for it's titular boner right here on the Not-Quite-Daily (The Twenty conspicuously ran well over it's self-allotted 20 minutes of advertising time), has folded. The Twenty is no more, and from it's ashes rise the terminally non-specific "First Look", a program modeled exactly on the fallen "Twenty". However, with the notable lack of any chronologic parameters built into the name, Regal is free to push the "First Look" to the extreme, expand it's already girthy duration and cram as much pre-show advertising into our brains as possible.

Surely somewhere (likely corporate HQ in Knoxville, TN) some marketing department official has earned a substatial raise for his efforts to increase Regal's advertising revenue. And all it took was the name change of Regal's self-created ad-blunder-of-the-century. (Hey, we're only 6 years in, I'm sure something else will pop up.) A name change that was called for by this lowly Regal employee more than a month ago. So maybe I didn't win. My goal was acheived, but to the profit of another man. Damn the system.

2006-01-28T01:47:00.000-08:00

Shoot ... What Was I Going to Write About? ...

I've clearly had a little too much to drink tonight. There was something, certainly. The weather? It's been raining a lot here in the Pacific Northwest. Seattle neared a record for consecutive days with rain (maybe they set the new record, I stopped paying attention with about 2 or 3 days left. Portland would've done the same, but we had one random day in December without any precipitation.)

No, it's not the weather. The Blazers? They actually had a winning record on their most recent homestand. They went 5-3 over the last 8 games, all at home. But for a few close losses that could've been avoided, they would've gone 7-1. The remainder of the game that I caught this very evening, an 88-83 win over the New Jersey Nets was almost impressive but for a weak finish that nearly resulted in a loss at the very end. Guard Juan Dixon was ejected with just over 2 minutes remaining when he had the hot shooting hand, forcing the Blazers to try even harder to get the win than they otherwise would have. My experience with this Blazer team (usually consising of catching but the last inning of a game) is that they are indeed a very green team, and while usually playing decently, can't quite close out a game, and more often than not give the game away to their usually much more seasoned and experienced opponent.

It couldn't have been the Blazers that I intended to write about in this post. Oh hell. It looks like I've written enough to satisfy the basic requirements of a post on this here Not-Quite-Daily blog any way. A name I've taken quite literally in the last few weeks. I'm sure as soon as I hit the "Publish Post" button, I'll remember exactly what I intended to post. But then that means I might actually put something up tomorrow. Providing my playing of "X-Men: Legends" doesn't get in the way.

2006-01-22T08:43:00.000-08:00

Stupid Work ...

I've already committed myself to getting a real job by March. One where the busy season is not the holiday season, and where the busiest days are not your weekends. I'm tired of never having a feel for what day of the week it is. Anytime I have a day off, and it's usually just one random day, never two consecutively, I always feel like the next day back is Monday. Also there's the little fact that I'm getting paid a horrendous wage. For a job I've worked since the summer of 2003 (with some time also worked in the summer of 2002, but I took time off for school) I should be making more than 50 cents over the minimum wage, especially considering I'm in a management position and am dealing with thousands of their dollars a day.

But as it is, my current complaint is that I haven't hardly caught a single football game this season, again because weekends are our busier days, and I'm always working during the games. So if anyone wants to call me and update me on the progress of the Seahawks-Panthers game, it would be much appreciated. But only if the Seahawks are winning, because I'm the shoot the messenger type, and you'll get an earful of profanities if I don't like what I hear.

2006-01-21T00:07:00.000-08:00

That Was Uncalled For ...

You guys aren't bastards, and truth be told, I've just been out of ideas for the last 11 days. I've got 1 free post at the much more widely read Washington Canard and I just can't come up with anything to say. Maybe I'll save it for a later date. No, I'll try to use it up within the next week, I've just got think of what to say. Think, think think. I'll be a while.

2006-01-21T00:06:00.000-08:00

Well, Fuck You Too ...

You don't want to reply to my posts?! Maybe I just won't post any more posts. That's what you've been experiencing for the last 11 days, you bastards.

2006-01-10T22:25:00.000-08:00

Extra Effort ...

Today, working at the Pioneer Place cinemas, was an exceptionally easy day. Would that Regal Entertainment Group allow access to more internet sites other than the Internet Movie Database and Fandago.com, I would most certainly post more than Not-Quite-Daily on this blog. But as it is, all I'm allowed to do is read the trivia, goofs, and guest appearances for every movie and/or TV show ever made. Sure, this kills the time (it killed 7 hours today) but can it kill another 7 tomorrow, and is it rewarding work? The answer is no.

How did I break up the monotony today? Not very well, as evidenced by the 7 hours spent at the computer looking shit up, but I was able to undertake a project, outside of my specific job duties that not only benefitted my work environment (tidying the place up), but my own pocketbook as well. I happened to notice, while looking behind things for other (hopefully, but usually not) interesting things, a quarter sitting behind some drawers in the manager's office. Knowing how valuable quarters are (one whole quarter of a dollar and good for 12 minutes of parking at a Portland parking meter) I was determined to retreive this quarter no matter what. I spent a good 5 minutes shimmying the drawer unit away from the wall. I climbed over the adjacent drawer unit, positioning myself over the quarter, but discovered I had not moved it far enough as to give me room to bend over and grasp the quarter. I climbed back over the drawers and moved the drawer some more.

At this point, I hopped back over, and discovered to my surprise, that the quarter was accompanied by a nickel (5 minutes of parking), and that the prize at the end of this project would be all the sweeter. I bent down, still not the most comfortable space to maneuver in, but enough to become a whole 30 cents richer, and recovered my treasure. Climbing back over the drawers, wealthier for the endeavor, I tried to return the drawers to their original position, but encountered some difficulty. After struggling for a minute, I found a binder sitting under the leading edge of the drawer and removed it to continue my struggle.

The drawers, not terribly full of office supplies, still proved rather difficult to move back against the wall, but I would not allow myself to be deafeated by the inanimate storage unit. Leaving the office, I retrieved a hand truck from elsewhere in the theater. To use the handtruck effectively, I had to move the TV from atop the drawer, as well as the walkie-talkie charging rack (which yielded 2 movie passes hidden underneath, the organizational complaints about this particular theater will be saved for another post) and a stack of files. The hand truck served me well in my efforts to return the drawer, and in a matter of minutes (some struggling with the heavy item was still in order) the drawer unit was back in place.

My wages at the theater may not be very high, but they are certainly greater than the 30 cents I earned in the entire 30 minutes worth of work that retreiving the coins took me. Like wise, the physical exertion required to move the drawer untis away from the wall and back in, was far from worth the reward, but it was more about getting the quarter and nickel than getting the 30 cents. If that makes any sense.

2006-01-07T19:36:00.000-08:00

Portland en la necesidad del béisbol ...

Just caught this article on the ESPN page dedicated to the MLB. I'm more than certain Portland is again being used as bait to get Miami to pay up and keep the Marlins in the South Florida area, though hopefully the owners of the Florida Marlins will realize that Miami has had more than a decade to get behind the Marlins, but attendance figures still show that in all but their first three seasons and their first championship season of 1997, the Florida Marlins have suffered an attendance well below the league average. I'm not certain Portland could muster a season attendance to rival some of the better teams in the league, especially is Civic Stadi ... err, PGE Park is the initial home stadium for the team. But then there is this proposal just sitting on the table. I would prefer this to building a new park anywhere else in the city. Here's to the dream of bring Major League Baseball to Portland.

2006-01-06T04:48:00.000-08:00

Can't Talk. Vacationing ...

It must be Beutlerian of me to jus stop posting around the holidays without notice, though Guten Morgen Morgan seemed to be able to warn her (miniscule) readership ... like I'm one to talk. But now I find myself in sunny Orlando enjoying my time at the Magical Kingdom while not enjoying my time at Epcot. To prove I'm where I say I am, here's the shitty picture I took of shitty Epcot's famous shitty symbol, the shitty Spaceship Earth. I just couldn't find a decent angle to get a picture of it.
I guess with the wonders of the internet, this picture doesn't really prove that I've gone anywhere. In fact I could very well be sitting at home right now, in my underwear, pounding the Doritos and Mt. Dew, but who else could only get such a shitty picture, and who else would actually upload it to the internet. Likewise, you'll notice the dearth of anti-work material up here in recent days. So take that, you bastards.

2005-12-15T21:31:00.000-08:00

The LeBrons ... Flashy Nike Advert or Metaphysical Nightmare? ...

Recently, the movie theatres I work at, Fox Tower and Pioneer Place, and presumably all theatres of the Regal Entertainment Group network displayed (and continue to) in their lobbies a rather tall standee featuring LeBron James in several guises with the title "The LeBrons" at the bottom of the piece. Well, here. Here's a shot of me in front of said standee of my personal childhood hero ...
Sorry about it being so dark, the lighting in the Pioneer lobby is pretty piss-poor.

The standee is running concurrent with two commercials which air not only on my beloved television, but also occupy several minutes of the falsely labeled, "The Twenty", Regal's paid-programming which airs in the "twenty minutes" prior to the start time of a film. ("The Twenty" actually runs about 24-25 minutes these days. No surprise really.)

Both spots feature the four incarnations of LeBron James at home interacting with one another. The problem I have with the misguided and poorly thought out, if slickly produced ad campaign is the questions it poses without providing any answers.

Are we to believe that the four LeBrons are all related members of the James family, all bearing striking similarities to one another? Initially, I believed this to be the commercial's intent. However a line provided by the eldest member of The LeBrons, referred to only as "Pops" quotes his personal box score from his high school championship game as a quadruple-double (41 pts, 15 rebs, 12 asts, 12 blks (which is actually inflated from LeBron's real stats)). This line suggests to me that the eldest LeBron is supposed to be an older version of LeBron. However, aslo existing in this world (and front and center on the standee) is a version of LeBron seemingly unaltered from the version we see in the present day playing for the Cleveland Caviliers. Two versions of LeBron? Existing side by side, seemingly from different points in LeBron's own lifetime? But there's more.

Let's look at the other members of the "family". The LeBron furthest to the left on the standee lacks any discernable hint of a back story so I'll go with my gut on this one. This particular doppleganger seems to me to be a post-NBA career version of LeBron enjoying the evident wealth and fame that he has garnered in his time as a professional basketball player. This LeBron primps himself in the mirror, still intent on maintaining a fashionable outward image to the public and attempting to remain relevant while existing outside of the game.

The final parallel LeBron, who I'll call Kid LeBron similarly lacks any distinguishing features or individuality other than his apparent smaller size and more youthful demeanor. As far as I'm concerned he exists purely as a young version of LeBron, a kid LeBron.

So we have four simultaneously existing LeBrons from four very different and distant points on LeBron's time line. For all we know, there is a microscopic, fetal LeBron sitting somewhere in the house, swimming in someone's Sprite. Likewise there could be an invisible, ghostly LeBron haunting the household.

Was Nike prepared to answer the questions of how all these LeBrons can coexist without cancelling one another out? Or with a single airing of this confounding commercial that they could acheive the effective disintegration of all we thought we knew about physics and astrophysics, and the space-time continuum? Or did Nike even stop to consider that such a blasphemous divergence from reality would in effect disprove the infallibilty of God and in turn destroy the Universe when they introduced this concept to LeBron for consideration? Did LeBron realize the metaphysical can of worms he was opening when he agreed to don the silly costumes? Did anyone on the production side think any further than how great a crazy, old coot of an elderly, bearded LeBron would be. I sincerely doubt it.

Shame on you, Nike. And I expect better of you, LeBron.

2005-12-09T12:03:00.000-08:00

Stacked! ...

No, not the god-awful show on Fox,the late, great Robert Stack. I could certainly use this man's services right about now. Damn you, Death!

As it is, my earlier mystery, not knowing the connection between one Cory Falk and the girl who works at the Fox Tower movie theater is one that will remain Unsolved! The same girl, who only a few days earlier had been with Cory while he shouted at me through a window, failed to make her shift one recent Thursday evening. A flurry of phone calls failed to raise a response and messages were left informing her of her slip-up.

The next day at work, noonish, I received a phone call from her questioning the veracity of the messages on her cell phone about having missed a shift. I informed her that infact, she had been scheduled for the night before, but that it wasn't the end of the world, though she would be written up for the incident. She then asked when she next worked claiming the version of the schedule she copied down had her working at 6:00pm that day. I surmised she had simply gotten off a day when copying the schedule for her missed shift from the day before was a 6:00 pm shift. I informed her that she actually worked at 1:30pm that day and that she should verify the rest of the schedule when she arrived. She gave an unconvincing "alright" suggesting that she'd be there and hung up.

Not more than a half an hour later, she called back an informed me the she wouldn't be able to make the shift that day. "Oh ... really?" I asked. (I know the situation, thinking you had more hours until work, and having things planned that can't be broken. I've been there. But she continued) ...

"Yeah, and I think I'm going to have to go ahead and quit."
"Oh ... are you sure?"
"Yeah, it's just not working out"
"Okay ... well thanks for letting us know"

I've seen many an employee come through theatres in my time and I will never criticize anyone for quitting the job as it is a ridiculous waste of time, good only for free movies and it's flexibility around school schedules. In fact, her 2 weeks of employment at Fox certainly falls well short of the shortest tenure at any job I've seen. That honor belongs to a girl who worked at the Ocho in Eugene for all of one night shift before she called in the middle of the night and left a tearful message on the answering machine announcing her "resignation". Granted her first night was the busy opening of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, but I can't imagine hating a job so strongly after a single shift.

Oh well. Robert Stack could help me solve the connection between Falk and this girl, but short of channeling the man himself, I'm afraid the mystery will remain Unsolved!

2005-12-07T19:22:00.000-08:00

Can I be a boozehound? ...

I probably already am. A lengthy, energy-wasting inventory of the refrigerator (initiated by my futile search for food) found the majority of the items in said refrigerator are, or contain alcohol. The inventory reads as such:

Beverages:
1 gallon OJ
1/5 O'Mara's Irish Cream
2 - 16oz Olympia piss-water ... um, ... beer
4 - 12oz Hornsby's Amber Draft
12 - 12oz Henry Weinhard's Hefeweizen
9 - 12oz Pabsts
2 - 12oz Fat Tires
Britta Picher
1 - expired quart of milk

Condiments:
1 bottle soy sauce
1 bottle terryaki
ketchup
mustard
mayo (barf)
sour cream ( barf)
brown mustard
3 types of salad dressing

Fruit/Veggies:
strawberries
1 can pineapple
1 orange

Foods:
1 hotdog
2/3 brick of cheese
salsa
2 jars of pasta sauce
tortillas
strawberry jelly
olives
butter (a food? yes!)
frosting (again)
half-eaten berry pie

Looking at the individual items there are 30 alcoholic articles in the fridge and only 27 that are alcohol free. A clear majority. Probably close enough to warrant a recount, but the beer states have it. I think it's time to go get my drink on anyway. I just got home from my first day working at the Pioneer Place movie theater (more on that later), I think I've earned a drink or two.

2005-12-06T12:28:00.000-08:00

In An Alternate Universe Somewhere ...

What if all our best laid plans never work out for us? Though isn't that usually the way it goes. In the 4th grade I planned to be playing for the Portland Trail Blazers. Though I haven't given up hope, I'm quickly realizing that if it hasn't happened by now, it probably won't. When taking a career interest test in the 6th grade, I carefully doctored my answers so that the result would unquestioningly come back as suggesting I should be a veterinarian, a career that my later disinterest in math and science would put firmly out of reach.

Why do I question these matters? The other day at work, while sitting in the box office covering a break, I sat, staring mindlessly out the window. An SUV parked across the street from the theater, a woman got out and paid the meter. Unfortunately for her, the codes state the parking sticker must be placed on the side of the car nearest the sidewalk. The woman had parked with the driver's side nearest the curb, but inexplicably placed the sticker on the passenger side, facing out into the street.

It wasn't 5 minutes until a parking attendant came strolling up the sidewalk and noticed the car with it's sticker on the wrong side of the car. The genelteman walked into the road and checked the ticket. In all honesty I don't know how much time the woman bought, but I have to assume she paid for more than 5 minutes making the sticker valid even if she put it in the wrong spot. The parking attendant seemed to think about it for a minute before he pulled out his ticket machine and punched in some information printing up a ticket and placing it on the car.

What does the first paragraph have to do with any of this? The parking attendant looked like a dead ringer for one Shane Battier of the Memphis Grizzlies. The exact hair cut, the same skin complexion, and he was quite tall as well. All this says to me that if Shane Battier's basketball hopes were never to have worked out, he most likely could have found gainful employment for the city of Portland, or any city I suppose, enforcing the parking codes. And as evidenced by the display I saw this one particular day, I have to imagine that Shane Battier would be one hard-ass parking officer. Valid sticker, wrong spot, ticket. Boo-ya!

2005-12-05T12:48:00.000-08:00

The Decemberists ... From November ... posted in December (it seemed more appropriate, and I'm lazy) ...

I had meant to post this, oh, about the day after I actually saw the concert, but you know how things happen, then other things don't happen, and it takes about a month after the first things happened until the other things finally happen. This is one of those things.

Way back on November the 1st, I Emily and I traveled down to Eugene to catch a show at the MacDonald theatre. Having purchased 3 tickets, with the intention of giving one to a former roommate of mine, we tried to call as we approached Eugene to find out where we could pick him up. I received no answer on his cell phone and worried that there was a chance he had failed to request the evening off. I called the World to see if he was there, sure enough he was and he would be unable to see the show with us.

We called a few people who we knew in town to see if someone would at least put the ticket to use. Collecting any money for the ticket was no longer a concern, just getting somone to take the ticket. Nobody that we called was available or interested, so we headed down to the MacDonald hoping possibly to sell the ticket. Sure enough, while approaching the will-call window, we somehow become engaged in conversation with some guy and the existence of our extra ticket comes up. He opens his wallet and initially finds only $12 to give me for the $15 ticket. I tell him that would be fine, something was better than nothing. A further search in his wallet, and he discovers an additional 5 dollar bill. He proclaims he's found the extra money, but quickly asks, "Is it ok if I give you 12 so I can buy a beer?" It seemed like a cheap-skate move to me, but again, whatever, at least it was something.

We took our money and headed in. The second opening band was still onstage about 30 minutes after the Decemberists were supposed to have been and lasted another 10 minutes which was 10 minutes too long. Some shitty, local, self-important, posturing indie band. Finally, the main act hit the stage. The first song, one I didn't recognize, segued into a second that I didn't recognize either, before segueing back into the first song. The whole first piece lasted about 10 minutes during which I leaned over to Emily, and shouting over the music told her "I don't ..." (the music comes to a pause) "... recognize any of the songs yet!" I try quickly to drop my voice as I realize the volume had cut dramatically. I really should've just stopped talking or simply committed suicide right then and there.

I had worried that we would hear mostly Picaresque tunes (an album I enjoy, for sure), but was pleasantly surprised as they launched into the rest of their show (fairly evenly taking songs from their 3 LPs) starting with The Infanta. The actual song order escapes me now, perhaps for future shows I'll write that information down, but they certainly hit some great ones including Leslie Ann Levine, July July!, The Soldering Life, Eli the Barrow Boy, 16 Military Wives, and The Soldiering Life. They closed the show with I Was Meant for the Stage (dedicated to the cast of "whatever play is currently at the Robinson Theater") heading off stage to a looping cacophany of sound. Having been to a number of concerts in the past, I knew an enore was forthcoming though the inordinate amount of energy they expended in the final minutes creating the intense sounds made me wonder if in fact, they would come back.

Sure enough, they came back onstage playing a cover, one I know well, but couldn't ell you what it was. It was in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, or at least in the advertising for it, and has subsequently been used in other films' advertising without actually being in the subsequent films. They finished up with Chimbley Sweep and rocked the house while doing it.

All in all, it was a great show, worthy of such a long post that I'm sure was read word for word, right? Collin Meloy was quite talkative, telling jokes, telling stories of his days in the dorms (Spiller Hall) at the UO. Meloy and guitarist, Chris Funk engaged in a shoot out with toy guns that produced the classic "Bang" flag from the barrel. Colin responded to someone's request for Freebird with a long explanation of how all performing musicians have heard the same joke before, and that it's not funny. And that he, and most other guitarists, don't even know how to play Freebird, and proceeded to play a little of Sweet Home, Alabma and a bit of a song I failed to identify terming it "the one song you had to know if you wanted to play guitar with others in Spiller Hall". More facts of the show escape me now, or really defy explanation, falling into the category of "you had to have been there". And you really should have been. It was a great show, and they are a band I'm sure to see whenever possible.

2005-12-02T15:12:00.000-08:00

Attn: Michael Wilbon, you're already cooler than Kornheiser, no need to force the issue ...

Claiming to have been the recent recipient of laser eye surgery, Michael Wilbon of Pardon the Interruption wore sunglasses on the air for the show on December 2nd. Maybe it was just me, but Wilbon also semed to have a slight frog in his throat, speaking a little raspy. Personally, I'm thankful he was on the air, as the show is never the same with either Kornheiser or Wilbon missing, but Wilbon, take a sick day if you've just had eye surgery. Seemingly wanting to help the image he threw on the leather jacket as well.

Tony of course spent the whole show making jokes about Wilbon's condition. "Wilbon, is there any way you can see ... well, I guess not 'see', but can you imagine ..." how Kornheiser might have finished that sentence. Even with Wilbon trying to look more like a tough guy, today's episode of PTI was another quality one and a regular part of my afternoon viewing schedule.

Goodnight Canada!

2005-11-29T14:28:00.000-08:00

What the Falk? ...

The other day I find myself in the box office at the Fox Tower, chatting with one of the employees. I glance down breifly, looking at some piece of paper on the counter when I hear someone shout my name from the street. I look out and at first see a girl who had recently been hired at the Fox. Expanding my view, I find her to be standing next to one Cory Falk. Cory had been the one to shout. Some other guy, standing next to the girl, waved at me. I stepped to the microphone and breifly exchanged hellos with Cory. Shortly thereafter, they left.

Nothing exactly remarkable about the story. While at the Fox Tower, I've run into many people that I haven't seen in quite a while (Mrs. Accuardi, Ms. Wood, Leela Joshi, and several other mostly high school acquaintances). But the question has to come up, what is the connection between Cory and this girl? A girl who I'll admit seemed familiar for one reason or another upon meeting her. Should I know her? Have I met her previously? Her name is Miranda Jalbert, a name which similarly seems familiar.

I hate not being able to place names with faces or vice versa. She doesn't really work that much, so it may be a week or two until I'm able to work with her and ask her connection to Cory. Doubtlessly, she asked Cory how he knew me as soon as they walked away. Unless of course she knows me from my pre-Fox Tower life and would be offended to find out that I don't know who she is. The mystery will hopefully be resolved in short order.

2005-11-25T23:23:00.000-08:00

What are you talking about? ...

Shopping! It's that time again. Time to figure out what to get people for Christmas. At the moment, I only have mother (as Buster would say it) figured out. Mom's idea for the girls, I would say, is ripped-off from me, but then my idea was ripped-off from her. I wanted to get the girls CD players which would certainly be smaller and cheaper than the ones we all got years ago, Morgan's being the only surviving one as the "garage-radio/CD-player-that-doesn't-play-burned-CDs-or-anything-with-a-
hint-of-a-scratch-so-that-I-spend-more-time-trying-to-get-a-CD-playing-than-actually
-cleaning-out-or-washing-my-car-while-working-in-the-garage."
Mom told me the other day, that they were getting the girls CD players for Christmas this year, and that an accompanying gift of an age-appropriate CD would be a good suggestion. So the question becomes: what to get them? I would prefer not to get them country CDs, which mother (Buster, again) specifically suggested. I would rather not encourage their youthful flirtation with country music, though Emily raises the point of getting them something they would like. Still, I would rather get them something I think they should like.
One thing with decidedly "kid" themes but an attention to adult needs is the SpongeBob SquarePants Movie soundtrack. The track listing is as follows:

1. Spongebob Squarepants Theme - Avril Lavigne
2. Spongebob & Patrick Confront The Psychic Wall Of Energy - The Flaming Lips
3. Just A Kid - Wilco
4. The Goofy Goober Song - Mike Simpson
5. Prince Paul's Bubble Party - Wordsworth
6. Bikini Bottom - Electrocute
7. The Best Day Ever - SpongeBob
8. They'll Soon Discover - The Shins
9. Ocean Man - Ween
10. Under My Rock - Bill Fagerbakke
11. Now That We're Men - Patrick
12. Goofy Goober Rock - Tom Rothrock
13. You Better Swim - Motorhead
14. The Jellyfish Song By The Jellyfish Band - Plus-Tech Squeezebox
15. Spongebob Squarepants Theme (Movie Version) - The Pirates

With a few Lavigneian exceptions, most of the songs are fairly horizon-expanding for a 10 year old (with Ween, Wilco, The Shins and The Flaming Lips being the gems of the soundtrack). So lets get some other good ideas of gifts for the girls together.

2005-11-24T02:05:00.000-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving? ...

Better than the last few years I suppose. At least I'll be in Portland and get to see the family somewhat as opposed to the last few years where I've worked at the Ocho. Tonight I work as well, but only from 6pm until 1am. You know, right in time to miss dinner. At least Thanksgiving is time and a half. But it could be worse. I could be in Germany. That would be awful.

The worst Thanksgiving in Eugene? Easy. It would have to be the first one I spent down there while working at the Ocho. That year, I'd actually received invitations to family dinners from two people whom I worked with, one of them happened to be Emily, though this was long before we could even stand each other. Both invitations I turned down claiming I had a few friends remaining in town and that we were getting together and doing something in the way of dinner. This was a lie. In fact, I went home to an empty Busta Kappa, it was long since dark and cold outside, I made 2 cheeseburgers on the George Foreman, played a little Grand Theft Auto 3, cranked the heat which was a sin punishable by death at Busta Kappa, but I felt as the only brother remaining in Eugene, alone on Thanksgiving, I deserved to treat myself a little bit. That has to be the worst Thanksgiving I've had the pleasure of suffering through.

Considering that, tomorrow shouldn't be so bad. I'll hit a grocery store in the morning, buy Mario Kart for the GameCube and some Hornsby's, get a good buzz early enough in the day for it to wear off so that I can actually drive myself to work, and finish off the day working for the man.

2005-11-23T14:02:00.000-08:00

It's Poland All Over Again ...

The PDXNQD appears as though it may now be here to stay, and hopefully with greater frequency. Tentative plans to move back to Eugene had been brewing for months and were made official on November 1st when I gave notice to the Fox Tower GM of my plans to move. Progress on the move slowed however as the job I initially planned to pick up in Eugene was filled before I could get down there, and as my housing options all quickly fell through.
I was offered a couch to crash on at one of the houses that otherwise refused my requests for living space. For a while, I planned on staying on that couch for up to a month, living out of a suitcase (more likely a large cardboard box taken from the Fox Tower), with the eventual goal of finding someone else to live with. Not being the most daring person, not willing to answer an ad in the paper seeking roommates as Eugene usually has plenty of, more likely than not, I would have simply found a cheap studio apartment somewhere in town at a low a rent as could be found. I then took a moment to look at the situation: even upon picking up a second job, once monthly rent, bills, student loans, car insurance and gas was all factored in, I would not be saving a dime by making the move. And more likely than not, furnishing (as modestly as I was sure to do) a new apartment would only cause me to spend more money, crippling my financial situation for months just as the move to Portland had already done.
As such, I will be staying in Portland for now. Maybe now that my living situation is somewhat fixed for the foreseeable future, the PDXNQD will gain greater attention from its author. Where will I live? I plan on "freeloading" at Emily's place (Mom's words, not mine), though I still would like to have a place of my own. Living with Jeff appears to be out of the question. His best bet (in August) was that he would be able to afford splitting a 2 bedroom apartment by December, but his ability to afford such a place couldn't be further out of the realm of reality.
So now I have to tell everyone at the Fox Tower that I'm staying when I'd already told them all I was leaving, and already told a few to fuck off. And I have to call the people at CinemaWorld 8 in Eugene, (hereafter "The Ocho") and let them know I won't be coming down. I'm sure to feel like an ass at both places. But that should be nothing new I guess.

2005-11-08T02:28:00.000-08:00

Oh, for the love of Pete. I kid you not, I spent about an hour crafting an excelently crafted entry. For the love of God, somehow, that entry decided not to be ... entered. Or at least saved for future use. I swear to God that I hate the internet. Most of the time it sucks big fat donkey balls. The other portion of time, it is used primarily for looking up pornography. I'll try and re-craft the entry that I drunkenly spent a major portion of a drunken night on., but now I must go to bed. Fuck the internet, no?

2005-11-01T16:07:00.000-08:00

Technical Difficulties ...

I've really been trying to get going on this blog thing. I was clearly able to get myself online frequently enough to make the in-most-respects-defunct bustakappa.com one of the more popular, heavily trafficked personal websites I've ever seen. And pretty damn funny too, if I can say so.

I think part of my problem is that my digital camera is a piece of garbage. I took a number of pictures at work one day trying to get some stuff to put up on here, and my batteries died long before I was able to transfer them to the computer. And being broke as a joke, I have not the funds to buy new batteries and get them transfered.

But today is payday. And so far only 1/2 of the paycheck is earmarked for outward flow from my bank account. Perhaps I can steal $3.50 from myself and buy some batteries. I'm reduced to being unable to afford batteries. I wonder if I can snag some from the theater. I'll have to look into it.

2005-10-21T17:10:00.000-07:00

It starts.

With any luck I'll actually get in the habit of using this thing. I had to be honest with myself and name it the Portland Not-Quite-Daily since I am very aware of my limitations in regard to subject material, maintaing interest (my own) in this adventure, and effort. But maybe, just maybe this blog can become a document of the random musings and happenings of living in downtown Portland. That's all for now.