doodledee

A couple of days ago I struggled with something that has now become an official pain in the ass for all people everywhere: opening a Compact Disc.

First, there's the shrink-wrapped plastic. This stuff must come from NASA. It's so tight, with basically no visible folds, seams or joints that it has to have some sort of industrial ancestry. I've been told that if you focus on the ends, there are little corners folded in that you can try and gain leverage on, but I don't buy it. They're like glued down or something. I usually cave and just slash at the plastic with a knife, most likely scratching the jewel case, but at least I'm halfway in.

Then comes the real barrier: that stupid plastic sticker that CD manufacturers insist on welding to each case. Good luck getting that off in once piece. Or getting it off without leaving a bunch of glue residue on the case. Or getting it off at all. I'm not sure what purpose it serves, but until I hear otherwise, it's stupid.

I would like to propose an experiment:

• Take 10 kids around age 8. Divide into two groups.
• Place 5 in Room A with an unopened CD.
• Place 5 in Room B with an unopened bottle of Vicodin.
• Stop experiment when music is heard OR kids ask for more pills.

Note: If it's some crap techno CD, take one pill before conducting experiment to mitigate risk of Room A prevailing.

Some things that I don't understand why people seem to like:

• Lawn ornaments


• Calling decaffeinated coffee 'unleaded'


• Anna Kournikova


• Those supermotorcycles that go really fast and kill you


• Minesweeper

Some things that people probably don't get why I like:

• Making my office look like a dorm room
• Grocery shopping
• Putting brown sugar on my grapefruit (try it!)
• The word 'underpants'

I like sunny days like today. Sure, I have to sit on my fanny in the dark and sling code for most of the day, but some of us go outside at lunch and sometimes I'll sneak out back and shoot some baskets when time allows. Days like today demand attention. They shout at you on the drive to work, "Hey, try not to forget me, eh?" They welcome you home when it's time to relax. They simply insist on being enjoyed. So that's why I try and do.

Later, when it gets dark, I read garbage like this on the internet until my eyes go bleary.

Checked out the Flops at the Minnesota Zoo last Saturday night. Attendance was lightish, but the music was just great. Jake, the drummer from Semisonic, joined them for a bunch of songs, and some other dude came out and played a vibraphone on a few, too. It was a perfectly clear, starry night outdoors at the zoo with the animals stowed safely away so I didn't have to worry about being eaten during the music. Can't ask for much more than that.

Fortunately, it looks like the Flops might be planning on playing some more gigs, as somebody (Matt?) built a crazy website that included info about a recent Chicago show. Bring it on as far as I'm concerned. Those dudes have some of the best stage chemistry going. Go see them.

It'll be interesting to compare this show, performed in an intimate venue with acoustic instruments and 500 fans, to the Grateful Dead reunion next Saturday. Whoo-boy.

I didn't get into the soccer league I signed-up for. I guess they couldn't find enough women to fill out the teams, so there are like 20 guys on waiting lists hoping for a spot to open up. Good thing I didn't throw down for the new cleats yet.

Vacation days taken: 1/2
Golf score: 102
Days since last shot a score that high: too many to count - more than 1000?
Disappointed with score: Yes
Money won in tournament: $0
New bread a Quizno's: Not that bad

The latest tour d'loose review is now up. Go to Sweeney's, it's some good eats.

Talking about good eats, Alton Brown is this cook on the Food Network. I love his show, Good Eats. He's all about the science of food, explaining why things cook and taste the way they do. One time on his show, for example, he made three different batches of chocolate chip cookies, varying the recipe slightly each time. As they cooked he would explain both how the cookies would turn out and why they would turn out that way. He must be smart because he was right every time.

Anyway, he's got a new book out. I want it.

Would whoever stole all the money out of my 401(k) please return it? I don't need it for a few decades, but it would be kind of nice to have in the meantime. Man, I remember the fat days: the Naz breaking records three times a week, dudes in the hall at work flipping stocks over lunch for thousands in profit, and money-is-no-object consulting companies giving away sports cars to their employees. Today, it's all changed. It's gone from "How much BEAS you holding" to "Jesus, you're not all in cash?!" At this point I think I might just cash out, head to Vegas, and put it all on red. Or maybe I'll put it all on the Twins, they look pretty convincing this year.

Oh, and a little follow-up on the crop circle talk from a while back. It turns out that -- in England at least -- the dudes who sneak out into the fields and make the crop circles are like folk heroes. There's this huge website that talks about the people that make them and where the new circles are and all that. Who knew? Not the aliens, I guess.

What a great weekend. On Friday, right after ConAgra announced a stupid huge recall of ground beef, the tour d'loose team carried-on with plans to hit-up Sweeney's in St. Paul for a delicious, and hopefully poop-free, Juicy Lucy. It turned out to be a great place to eat a burger and chill on the back patio. Unless you're Grossie, that is. I'll have the complete review up shortly. Wee.

The rest of the weekend was spent at backyard parties and barbeques. On Saturday night, we headed to Libby's coworker Jason's house. It's an old Victorian house in the heart of the South Minneapolis hood and it's really neat. He's been restoring it and so far he's done a kick-ass job. Then on Sunday, we woke in the morning and headed right to the Conway's for their annual Raspberry Festival get-down drink-up and blast-off party. The highlights for me included a couple of sweet front lawn performances by the Jack Brass Band and not coming in last place in croquet after not playing in about 20 years. I also enjoyed sitting in the sunshine with good people for an entire afternoon.

That, my friends, is what summer's all about.

Libby remains cute even while waiving her middle finger in the air and singing along with some song about being an American Badass. I wouldn't even have thought that was possible. Go figure.

New vehicles all around!

A few weeks back, Dunn showed-up at our house in their new Suburban. It's a 6,000 pound leather-lined beast. It seats 10, carries 8 golf bags, and has 25 speakers or something crazy like that. In any event, we took it to golf and it was a fun ride. I can't wait to see a couple of twin babies strapped into the leather captains chairs in the back.

Then last night, the Conways drove over in Jeannine's brand-spankin'-new Jetta. It's fun and zippy and weighs in at just about half of a Suburban. Open the sunroof, crank-up the tunes, and appreciate all that comes with a fine German-engineered automobile. At least that's my plan for when I get to ride in it.

It has been interesting to follow the story of those two planes that crashed into each other over in Europe. It turns out that as the planes approached each other, their respective Collision Avoidance Systems kicked in and began telling each pilot what to do in order to avoid crashing into the other plane. The computers do this by communicating with each other and working out which plane should go down and which plane should go up. Once they have it figured out, computer voices calmly tell the pilots what to do.

For some reason, the pilot of one plane refused to believe the computer and instead listened to the [tragically] incorrect instructions coming from the ground controller. As a result, both planes descended and eventually collided.

I suppose it shouldn't be a surprise to me that people still don't trust computers -- after all, my mom still refuses to use a cash machine -- but in this case, how can you not?

Somehow, a bunch of us found this little drive-in restaurant Wagner's at the same time. It's an old school drive-in -- with carhops and everything -- over in St. Louis Park. They have a big Vienna Beef sign out front, which can mean only one thing: hot dogs. Hot dogs themselves can mean only one thing: Dave's going. So tonight after golf, Keith and I decided to christen it for dinner. (Jeannine met us there, but since she didn't arrive until after 8:00, they were closed and she didn't get to order anything. It's all good, though, because she had already eaten.)

Ok, at this point I need to interrupt myself. I was going to compare this new place to a joint I used to eat at in college all the time named The Wienery. For several years of my life, The Wienery was my favorite place to get cheap eats on campus. Coincidentally, eating there so much will probably take those same years off my life...Oops. Anyway, I remembered that The Wienery used to have a website, which I always got a hoot out of for some reason, so I went hunting for the link so I could use it here. Unfortunately, the restaurant is under new management and the website has been discontinued. (The wayback machine did have this copy lying around.) What I did find, however, is a fully rotational 3D image of the inside of the frickin' restaurant! Those jokers at the Star Tribune...I remember them from when I ate there. Good to see not everything has changed with the new ownership.

Ok, back to the new place. The menu is basically identical to The Wienery's. They have hot dogs of all types, burgers, fries, and all that other good stuff. Wagner's also has ice cream, which is a plus, but for some reason I'm kinda glad The Wienery never bothered with malts and stuff. In any event, the food at Wagner's rocked, the prices were very reasonable and the atmosphere was fun. I'm going back. Many, many times. Hooray for wieners. Hooray for Wagner's.

How are summer movies this year? Jim Anchower lays down the phat truth. That dude rocks.

The freeway ramp meters got turned back on a few months back. Ramp meters govern the number of cars that are allowed onto the freeway during peak travel times. They're basically stoplights on on-ramps. When traffic backs up, two lines form behind the meters, up the ramp. The meters then let the cars go in a managed fashion, one at time and evenly spaced. Historically, meters pissed a lot of people off and made other people happy. Then, the meters were turned off for a while, which pissed different people off but made different people happy. After a huge study, they're back on, though not to the degree they were pre-study. At this point, I'm not sure who's pissed and who's happy.

Its been amusing watching people re-learn how to use the meters. Back in the day, when meters were on all the time (and on nearly every ramp), the skilled metro driver could determine which side of the line to get in from approximately 2 miles away. Now, however, people are paralyzed at the wheel, unable to figure out the L-R-L pattern of the blinking lights. Today, for example, somebody in the right lane at the front of the line 'screwed-up' (oops!) and went when it wasn't their turn. Instead of just laughing at other driver's loss of karma, the doof in the left lane decides that it's ok to go on the right lane's green light -- after all, a green light is a terrible thing to waste. So now the whole line is working opposite of the meters. And it goes on like this for like 20 cars! Huh? By the time I get closer, it's total gridlock (and near roadrage) on a frickin' on-ramp.

I almost wonder if the lights are tuned incorrectly, and that maybe they hypnotize the driver, or worse yet, induce seizures.

The front left swaybar on my Jeep broke the other day. I got the replacement parts and I'm gonna try and fix it myself. This should be fun.

Some of my deadhead buddies have been talking-up a new crop circle that was recently 'created' over in England. It looks pretty cool, eh? Kind of like it was made by hippie aliens or something. I found this one especially neat because it was the first one I'd seen in a while and I didn't realize how intricate the newer manifestations had become. What happened to the simple circle? Or the two circle chain? Have the aliens lost all sense of tradition? Broken all ties with their alien ancestors? For shame, ET, for shame.

I've always dug crop circles from a 'wow, that's neat' point of view. I'll remain a skeptic with respect to aliens making them, but I guess I can't rule it out. It just seems strange to me that the aliens never choose a place full of people to make the circles; like say Central Park, for example. Then again, they are aliens, which most likely makes them pretty smart, so they probably have their reasons. They probably also have laser guns, so I say we just chill and let them doodle on our planet.

Hollywood is getting in on the action later this fall. I think this one looks like a rental.

The Tour de France is on and Lance Armstrong is the clear favorite again this year. Because I'm not actually in France, I listen to the race over the internet. In past years, you could listen to great live audio coverage through Yahoo UK, but now we're stuck with the OLN feed on the official site. It's fun, but it's only two hours a day and they cut to commercial all the time. I'll never understand how those dudes can talk about a bike race for so many consecutive hours. Then again, I can't explain why I don't get tired of it.

Libby: "Are your hands sticky from the syrup or the super glue?" I guess that depends on what's on your pancakes, dear.

Man, was that a nice long weekend. We spent a couple of days maxing and relaxing at my parent's cabin up north. Watched some fireworks, read about 2000 pages, and even got some fishing in. Brent caught this huge bass, which he was nice enough to give to us to eat. Even Libby got in on the action, reeling in this lunker. They both made for some good eats come Saturday night.

The Two Towers trailer is out. It's still 6 months away, but I couldn't be more pumped.

Libby is taking sailing lessons up at Medicine Lake and they started tonight. She has wanted to do something like this for years, so it's great she finally got around to doing it. The first lesson seemed to go even better than expected. Shiver me timbers.

What this all means for me is:

• From now on, I will be calling her Skipper.


• She will not be calling me Gilligan. I would, however, consider Lil Buddy.


• Every Monday and Wednesday for the next few weeks, I get to play the stereo as loud as I want.


• Mondays and Wednesdays will also now be known as 'Ladies Night' at the house.


• I'm probably going to get to go sailing sometime soon, so I better pick-up an eye patch. And maybe a hook, too.