Personal

The stuff about me and my life. The “diary” side of blogging.

The miracles of Christmas

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The real miracles of Christmas, according to me:

Miracle One: In thirty years of Christmas seasons, to the best of my knowledge, I have never seen either It’s A Wonderful Life or A Christmas Story. Never. Not once. I haven’t gone out of my way to avoid seeing them, but I certainly haven’t gone out of my way to attempt to see them, either. For one reason or another, it just hasn’t happened.

Miracle Two: That despite having no less than three different versions of “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” programmed into the in-store Muzak at work, resulting in my having to listen to that insipid song no less than 240 times over the past month (three times in a two-hour repeating block of music over eight hours, twelve times a day, 40 times a week, 240 times since Thanksgiving), not to mention being treated to innumerable different versions of every other Christmas song ever recorded every time I stepped out of the house since Thanksgiving, I still managed not to devolve into a gibbering psychopath and start randomly destroying speakers, PA systems, stereos, and random carolers whenever I passed them.

It was really, really, really tempting, though.

A quiet Christmas

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It’s been a nice Christmas holiday this year. Due to financial difficulties, I wasn’t able to head up to Anchorage to be with my family for Christmas, so I ended up spending Christmas on my own for the first time in my life. While I missed being able to see family, all in all, it really wasn’t such a bad thing — there will be plenty of other chances for me to head back up to Alaska in the future (possibly even a few that aren’t in the dead of winter!), and it gave me a few days of just “me time” to kick back and relax without having to deal with the rigors of travel.

I’d originally thought I was going to work on Christmas Eve day, but things were slow enough at work that I ended up getting the day off after all. A nice surprise, though if I’d known earlier, it might have made the trip to Anchorage more likely, so there was a slight element of frustration, too. However, not being one to complain about an unexpected day off, I spent most of the day just relaxing at home, with a few hours of wandering around downtown Seattle watching all the last-minute holiday shoppers hurry from store to store.

On the way back home from my wander, I decided that I might as well do what I could to celebrate the Christmas holiday in my own particular style — and ducked into the theater to see Bad Santa. What a wonderfully horrid little movie! The entire thing is very, very wrong, and very, very funny. Definitely not a movie for everyone, but if you’re into black comedy and don’t mind a film taking quite a few outrageous shots at the Christmas season, it’s worth checking out.

After a bit more time goofing off at home, I headed up the hill that evening for Christmas Eve at the Vogue. What better way to spend Christmas Eve than at a goth club with a lot of people dressed in black and listening to dark music, right? ;) Hey, it works for me — especially as there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun with the night, and among the songs played at the club that night were a few of the songs from the Nightmare Before Christmas soundtrack.

Today’s been another day of nothing. A little dinking around on the ‘puter, a little reading and zoning out, and seeing Return of the King for the second time. My only frustration was that I’d intended on calling home to wish Mom, Dad and Kevin a merry Christmas — but I don’t have long distance, and I discovered today that my phone card had expired a couple of months ago. Of course, this being Christmas day, I don’t know of any open stores close to me where I could pick up a new phone card, so I may have to take care of that sometime in the next couple days and call them this weekend instead. Hopefully they’ll understand!

The Dangers of Molasses

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One of the country’s most bizarre disasters ever happened to the city of Boston, Massachusetts, on the afternoon of January 15, 1919. An unusual warm spell had cheered people at the north end of the city, raising the temperature from around zero to the mid-40’s, and business went on as usual.

Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, disaster struck. On a hill above the city, a 90-foot wide tank of molasses intended to be used for production of rum suddenly ruptured, sending two and a half million gallons of molasses in a wall eight to fifteen feet high down into the unsuspecting Boston neighborhood at speeds of up to 35 miles per hour. 21 people were killed, and 150 were injured.

That day’s Boston Evening Globe described the scene:

Fragments of the great tank were thrown into the air, buildings in the neighborhood began to crumple up as though the underpinnings had been pulled away from under them, and scores of people in the various buildings were buried in the ruins, some dead and others badly injured.

The explosion came without the slightest warning. The workmen were at their noontime meal, some eating in the building or just outside, and many of the men in the Department of Public Works Buildings and stables, which are close by, and where many were injured badly, were away at lunch.

Once the low, rumbling sound was heard no one had a chance to escape. The buildings seemed to cringe up as though they were made of pasteboard.

Legal battles followed, of course, but eventually the fault was laid at the feet of the owners of the molasses vat for failing to properly reinforce the vat, and they had to pay out more than a million dollars in damages.

The terrible thing about this disaster was that it was entirely avoidable! In fact, the people of Boston were wary from the beginning of having a large molasses factory on top of a hill. They saw what could happen. However, the head of the factory spoke to the mayor, who in turn spoke to the people of Boston, and succeeded in convincing them that with the amount of money the factory would make, the people would get some of it as the factory spent money and bought goods et cetera. The people accepted this, and allowed the factory to be built.

When you look at it, it’s terribly sad.

21 people were killed — all for the treacle down effect.

Got it, got it, need it, got it, not a chance, need it, got it…

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While I’m still partial to the “Old School” purity tests, Kirsten pointed out a page that bills itself as the ‘ultimate’ purity test, and I had to give it a shot…

Your Ultimate Purity Score Is…
Category Your Score Average
Self-Lovin’ 21.7%
I wouldn’t shake hands, if I were you		 65%
Shamelessness 57.1%
It takes a couple of drinks		 79.4%
Sex Drive 15.8%
Humps fire hydrants when nobody’s looking		 77.7%
Straightness 1.8%
Knows the other body type like a map		 44.9%
Gayness 58.9%
Had that experience at camp		 83.4%
Fucking Sick 70.8%
Dipped into depravity		 89.9%
You are 40.15% pure
Average Score: 72.6%

Just to clarify, the numbers refer to how pure I am in any particular category — in other words, I’m only 1.8% pure in the “Straightness” category, so I’m 98.2% impure (not much I haven’t done) for that category. As for the rest…no, I won’t elaborate in public. So sorry. ;)

Famous Faces

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(Just after a customer picks up a job…)

“That guy looked familiar.”

“Yeah, I had the same thought.”

“I think he was in a band.”

“…wasn’t everyone in Seattle in a band at some point?”

“Good point.”

(A few minutes later…)

“Ha! I was right!”

“Really?”

“Yup — he was in the Murder City Devils.”

“Good eye.”

MiddleEarth mania, week three: The Return of the King

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Well, it’s done. Prairie and I just got back from seeing The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King at the Cinerama.

I read something earlier this week on the ‘net. Unfortunately, I can’t remember where, so I can’t give attribution — but it’s a statement that I can now say quite safely that I wholeheartedly agree with. Until this year, had someone mentioned The Trilogy in conversation so that you could hear the capital ‘t’s, it would have been fairly understood that they most likely were talking about Star Wars.

Not anymore. LotR:TRotK caps off the new reigning champion of popular cinematic trilogys in grand style.

Prairie and I had tickets to the 7:45pm showing, but we knew that this being opening weekend we’d want to get there fairly early to ensure good seats. So, after an early bed last night and a good night’s sleep, we packed up our supplies (books for each of us, an umbrella, and two collapsible chairs from the trunk of her car), we headed down to the Cinerama at 4pm. We weren’t sure at first whether that might have been a bit too early, but as it turns out, our instincts were right on the money, as we ended up about 15 people back from the front of the line (in fact, we realized that we’d ended up waiting at almost exactly the same spot for all three weeks of our LotR experience), and it wasn’t more than about five minutes before more people showed up and took the spots right behind us.

Luckily enough, it turned out to be a nicely mild evening, without the wind and drizzling rain of last weekend. We’d each bundled up for the wait, and ended up spending a very pleasant three hours kicked back in our spot, chatting, reading, and watching the line grow behind us as more and more people appeared. About ten minutes before the doors opened I took a few minutes to stretch my legs and went off to find the end of the line…which had wrapped down from the Cinerama to the corner, around the corner, and then halfway again down the length of the block. We were quite happy we decided to come out as early as we did!

About the only downside was that when we arrived, there was one guy just ahead of us in line — but by the time the doors were about to open, he’d been joined by five of his friends (and this had also happened with a few other people ahead of us in line, and just behind us as well). I can certainly understand holding a spot in line for one friend, but it’s nothing but annoying when someone holds a spot at the beginning of the line for groups of people, who can then show up not more than ten minutes before the doors open and slide into line in front of people who’d been waiting there for hours. Very rude, and quite aggravating — luckily for them, I didn’t think my umbrella would stand up to smacking all six of them around, so I kept my peace.

Still, once the doors opened and the line surged forward, we made our way in and managed to snag good seats yet again — dead center, six rows back on the lower level (just one row closer to the screen than last week, and two rows closer than we were for Fellowship — thank goodness it’s only a trilogy!). After that, it was just a matter of waiting for everyone to fill in and find their seats, until eventually, the lights went down, and applause and cheers filled the room.

We were treated to three trailers before the show started. The first was for Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, which got applause and cheers from the audience. Next up was a trailer for The Mask is Back, which had the audience in dumbfounded silence until the end, when the auditorium was filled with a resounding chorus of boos and catcalls (which did something to restore some of my faith in the intelligence of the moviegoing public — or at least that section of the moviegoing public crazy enough to stand in line for LotR:TRotK on its first weekend). Last up was a trailer for The Butterfly Effect, which didn’t get much of a reaction at all (the trailers don’t impress me much, but I am interested in the premise of the film, so we’ll see how that goes once it opens).

Finally, the lights went down all the way, and the movie began… Rather than jumping straight into the action as was done with LotR:TTT, LotR:TRotK starts off with a look back long before the events of the trilogy, fleshing out Gollum’s background and showing the discovery of the Ring and the tragic events surrounding Smeagol’s acquisition of his “birthday present” from his brother Deagol. A marvelously creepy sequence shows us Smeagol’s deterioration into Gollum under the influence of the Ring, until we finally cut forward to hear Gollum muttering to himself as Sam and Frodo rest on their journey into Mordor.

(Note: much of the following text is “spoiler” information, which I’ve hidden for the time being — just swipe the blank areas of the text with your cursor if you’ve already seen the film….)

This is by far the most intense of the three films, moving back and forth among multiple storylines, hardships, moments of despair, and sudden triumphs. As jaw-dropping as the assault on Helms Deep was in LotR:TTT, the assault on Minis Tirith puts it to shame. There were so many wonderful (and wonderfully horrible) moments in the battles, from the Orc commander’s call to “release the prisoners” (at which point the severed heads of fallen Gondorian soldiers were lobbed into Minas Tirith), to the appearance of the giant war-Olifaunts, to Eowyn’s stand against the Nazgul king — “I am no man!” — (which got one of the loudest cheers from the audience) that I’m going to have to see it at least once more in the theaters just to start to take it all in. One amusing side-note about the Orc commander, though — I’d always wondered just what happened to Sloth after Goonies ended…and now I know!

Shelob was everything I’d been hoping she’d be, marvelously frightening and menacing. Her sudden appearance from the hole in the cave wall just when you think that Frodo made it through her lair safely got a wonderful gasp, and the scene where she hovers over Frodo was perfectly done! Everyone in the audience was on the edge of their seat, with nervous laughter filling the room from the tension of the moment…and when she finally strikes, everyone gasped and laughed with the sudden release of that tension — until the sudden realization hit that Frodo had been stung, when the entire auditorium fell dead silent.

I loved, loved, loved the look of the army of the dead that Aragorn confronts.

The interaction among Gollum, Frodo and Sam, as Gollum uses the effects of the ring to aid him in his own treachery was handled perfectly, so much so that it almost hurt to watch as his efforts took hold.

All in all, a truly masterful achievement. But, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end, and — save looking forward to the release of the Extended Edition on DVD next November — the journey is finally finished. The credits rolled, the lights came up, and we left the theater, at first with little more than “Oh, wow,” on our lips. Next out from Prairie was, “I want to go back to stand in line and see it again!” I can’t really argue with that!

Congratulations, Peter Jackson (and everyone else involved) — you’ve filmed what was commonly held to be an unfilmable work. Now, would someone please release the rights so that he can do The Hobbit?!? I want to see Smaug on screen!

M/A/R/R/S: Pump Up the Volume

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Pump up the volume, pump up the volume, pump up the volume, dance! Dance!

This was the first single I ever bought. I had no idea what a ‘single’ was until that point, and didn’t even realize I was buying one until I got home. I’d just heard the song on the radio and seen the video on Friday Night Videos, saw the cassette while out shopping, and bought it. I was really confused when I got home and the ‘album’ I’d just purchased had four versions of the same song in a row, plus one other song, and the same thing was repeated on side two. I thought it was a mistake of some sort.

Put the needle on the record…put the needle on the record…put the needle on the record, put the needle on the record, put the needle on the record when the jump beats go like this!

About airplanes

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After his many years of flying with the USAF and AANG, I’d bet that Dad has heard many of these before, or can at least vouch for their truism…

Though I Fly Through the Valley of Death…I Shall Fear No Evil…For I am at 80,000 Feet and Climbing.

— sign over the entrance to the SR-71 operating location Kadena, Japan

You’ve never been lost until you’ve been lost at Mach 3.

— Paul F. Crickmore, test pilot

There are more planes in the ocean than submarines in the sky.

— Blue Water Navy truism

When a prang (crash) seems inevitable, endeavor to strike the softest, cheapest object in the vicinity as slowly and gently as possible.

— Advice given to RAF pilots during WWII

The Piper Cub is the safest airplane in the world; it can just barely kill you.

— Attributed to Max Stanley, Northrop test pilot

A pilot who doesn’t have any fear probably isn’t flying his plane to its maximum.

— Jon McBride, astronaut

If you’re faced with a forced landing, fly the thing as far into the crash as possible.

— Bob Hoover, renowned aerobatic and test pilot

If an airplane is still in one piece, don’t cheat on it; ride the bastard down.

— Ernest K. Gann, author & aviator

There is no reason to fly through a thunderstorm in peacetime.

— Sign over squadron ops desk at Davis-Monthan AFB, AZ, 1970

Now I know what a dog feels like watching TV.

— A DC-9 captain trainee attempting to check out on the ‘glass cockpit’ of an A-320

If the wings are traveling faster than the fuselage, it’s probably a helicopter — and therefore, unsafe.

Without ammunition, the USAF would be just another expensive flying club.

What is the similarity between air traffic controllers and pilots? If a pilot screws up, the pilot dies; If ATC screws up, the pilot dies.

The three most common expressions (or famous last words) in aviation are: “Why is it doing that?”, “Where are we?” and “Oh SHIT!”

Weather forecasts are horoscopes with numbers.

Progress in airline flying; now a flight attendant can get a pilot pregnant.

Airspeed, altitude, brains. Two are always needed to successfully complete the flight.

A smooth landing is mostly luck; two in a row is all luck; three in a row is prevarication.

I remember when sex was safe and flying was dangerous.

Mankind has a perfect record in aviation; we never left one up there!

Flashlights are tubular metal containers kept in a flight bag for the purpose of storing dead batteries.

Flying the airplane is more important than radioing your plight to a person on the ground incapable of understanding or doing anything about it.

When a flight is proceeding incredibly well, something was forgotten.

Just remember, if you crash because of weather, your funeral will be held on a sunny day.

Never fly in the same cockpit with someone braver than you.

The three best things in life are a good landing, a good orgasm, and a good bowel movement. The night carrier landing is one of the few opportunities in life where you get to experience all three at the same time.

If something hasn’t broken on your helicopter, it’s about to.

You know that your landing gear is up and locked when it takes full power to taxi to the terminal.

(via the usual suspects)

That's gotta hurt…

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Each evening, I get off of work right around 9:30. I set the alarm, lock up, and start walking down the street to my bus stop, which is about four blocks away. As I’m walking, I walk next to and then underneath one of the I-5 off ramps (Exit 162 to Corson and Michigan, in Georgetown), so there are always cars and trucks driving by.

Last night I was walking my merry little way along, when suddenly I heard an absolutely horrendous sound over the music from my iPod from behind me — the scream and cry of tortured metal. I turned around just in time to watch a car that had just made it off of the ramp skid to a stop in the middle of the street with sparks flying out behind it, as its front left tire went rolling and bouncing across the road, eventually swinging around and rolling to a stop about twenty feet behind the car. Luckily for the driver (and anyone else), it was a slow night, and no other cars were around when the tire fell off. The scene was still for about ten seconds, when the driver’s door opened and the driver got out and started walking back to retrieve their tire.

Kind of scary, and not a little impressive — that’s just not a sight you see every day. As there wasn’t much for me to do (I know jack all about cars, don’t carry a cell phone to summon help with, and the driver appeared to be okay), I turned back around and continued on my way to the bus.

Man that was a nasty sound.