Adrienne had some coupons for an Aveda salon, so I got to get my haircut at a much nicer place than I would normally go to. At the end of my haircut the hairdresser suggested, “I could trim your eyebrows for you…”. For some reason, this made me feel a little panicked. Before I could say “no” my eyebrows were being combed forward and clippers run through them.

More surprising than the sudden eyebrow assault was the sensation of a large amount of hair falling into my lap. Did she just cut my eyebrows completely off!?” She attacked the right eyebrow with the same swiftness and I looked into the mirror to see my new eyebrowless look.

They were still there. In fact, they just looked like normal eyebrows. But, indisputably, 4 pounds of eyebrow had fallen into my lap. Have I had Peter Gallagher eyebrows this whole time and no one told me!?

More importantly, has no one told Peter?!

At 3:24 in the morning when you are reading A Moveable Feast and every sentence makes you smile and the snow is piled up in the street when you look out the window, and that makes you smile too, waking up your wife and reading to her about how “All Paris belongs to me and I belong to this notebook and this pencil” seems like the reasonable thing to do.

I will admit that I was puzzled for a while, but now I am on to you. That’s right U.S. Bio-Warfare researchers, the jig is up. The doctor said I just got the flu on top of bronchitis, but I know the truth. You are using me as a laboratory.

Your plan is flawed anyway. Sure, I feel horrible and I am coughing incessantly, but I have also gained superpowers. I have ultra-sensory perception. I can feel my hair growing. Every time I blink it feels like a bank vault door slamming shut. A few minutes ago I detected a fly upstairs by the painful blasts of wind his wings sent my way.

Yes, this is probably going to kill me, but you would never be able to sneak up on someone you infected with this super-virus. I can hear your cells dividing from a mile away.

As I talked with Jed I suddenly lost my internet connection. I looked up and saw that my wife was microwaving something. I have a wireless network in my house, and through the wonder of the horrible wireless antenna that Apple put in my PowerBook, I sometimes get to lose my connection when anyone uses the microwave or the cordless phone. Thanks Apple, could you abuse me a little more this month? (I will tell you the other powerbook story and the iPod story when I can write about it without crying)

Jed mentioned how it was only a matter of time before the air was so full of competing radio waves that nothing would work anymore.

Can you imagine if all those waves were visible?! I bet no one would use a wireless anything. Everything you had would be plugged in and shielded with 6 inches of lead. Lead poisoning be damned, just keep those creepy radio waves from shooting through me!

Second only to the Iraqi Information Minister is the North Korean Central News Agency. Just look at these “We-write-like-Russians-in-the-80’s” Cold-War-cool press releases:

U.S. Imperialists’ Aerial Espionage on DPRK

Union members, youth and students vow to vent their spite

Anti-U.S. posters produced

That poster article made me ask myself some hard questions:

1. Why doesn’t our government produce posters anymore? Do I just not see them because we don’t have cool press releases to celebrate them?
2. If we were to produce posters, could we get these Korean students to write them? I mean, look at this poster title!

   “Let Us Defend the Sovereignty, Right to Existence and Dignity of the Country and the Nation in a Do-or-Die Spirit”.

Maybe we could make a poster,

“Hey North Korea, Any Xenophobic Feelings We Have Towards You Are Directly Caused By Your Continuous Insistence On Acting Like Aliens. Seriously, You Freak Us Out. No, Seriously.”

I also think we could use more press releases to the world like this one:

DPRK, Dignified Powerful Nation .

Pyongyang, November 30 (KCNA) — The Democratic People’s Republic of Korea is an invincible powerful nation with a great national power enough to firmly defend its just idea, system and cause, stresses Rodong Sinmun today in a signed article. The DPRK is an indestructible political power in which the whole party, the entire army and all the people get united in one mind and an ever-victorious military power, the article says, and goes on:

…The singlehearted unity of the party, the army and the people is a true and solid unity and cohesion which can neither be destroyed by nuclear weapons nor be toppled down by any crafty psychological warfare as it is an ideological, willful and moral unity based on the revolutionary faith and comradeship.

The DPRK has a powerful might enough to decisively check and frustrate the imperialists’ vicious moves of aggression and war. We are firmly armed with the war method of Juche in the spirit of devotedly defending the leader, the spirit of laying down our life as a human bullet and bomb and the spirit of self-blasting explosion and has ever-victorious revolutionary strong army of Mt. Paektu equipped with modern offensive and defensive means and the powerful independent defense industry…

Seriously, after reading that, who would mess with an “invincible”, “Dignified Powerful Nation” with “the spirit of self-blasting explosion”! Certainly our “crafty psychological warfare” will not topple them! They come from Mt. Paektu, how could it?!

Why isn’t the White House sending out press releases like that?

North Korean Central News Agency, you lovable histrionic psychopaths, you just made it onto my daily read list!

A related item. Kim Jongill’s online journal (I am pretty sure if he had a real one it would be just like this).

The best way to describe her dancing would be to liken her to an epileptic water-buffalo, but that would be cruel, so i won’t. Instead, I will just say, she was Doin' The Cockroach yeah!

(I really wouldn’t have given it a second thought if she hadn’t been wildly bashing into us over and over again)

That’s right, I hacked into my darling husband’s site to tell one and all it is his birthday today. He is my favorite person in all the world so I feel compelled to let you all know.

–Adrienne

I have two hypotheses and I am having a very difficult time proving or disproving them because they are so similar in likelihood. Nothing in college prepared me to solve this one.

Either:

1. I have a cold.
2. Last night a cement mixer backed into my bedroom and dumped a full load of concrete right into my head.

On the plus side, my voice has dropped so low that I am going to record a Barry White tribute album.

I have bitten the inside of my lip 5 times in the past two days. Really bitten it. Four days ago i bit the side of my tongue so hard that I begged Adrienne to knock me out.

BIting your lip or tongue is horrible! Part of what makes it so bad is that it is always unexpected, you never set out to take a chunk out of your cheek. I think what makes it truly terrible is that it launches a fight-or-flight response left over from when being bitten was much more common and certainly a cause for alarm.

Your brain is screaming, “We are under attack!”, and your stress level is worsened by the inability to escape from your own mouth. The fight response just leads to more pain. I once fought back and launched a fight-or-flight death spiral that ended with me running down the hall screaming as I socked myself in the mouth repeatedly.

I shouldn’t be biting myself in the first place. Natural selection should have provided me with lips and a tongue that are capable of staying out of the way of my teeth (Or is it my underused canine teeth going feral and demanding flesh?). And, I think it is fair to ask, why do I REPEATEDLY bite myself?! Shouldn’t survival of the fittest have taken care of that whole ridiculous, “bite lip, lip swells into path of teeth, bite lip every-freaking-time you breathe” cycle of destruction?

I am an evolutionary failure.

Today I passed an old man in a 45 foot Cadillac, who I believe was dead at the wheel. No, not asleep, dead. His jaw hung down and his head was tilted back. I am guessing he died with cruise control on.

He seemed to be going pretty straight so he has probably hit the I15 by now. Maybe they will catch him when he hits Vegas or Barstow. Personally, I am hoping he makes it all the way to the ocean where that Cadillac will be in the element it was made for, the open seas. Before long there will be reports from cargo ship captains that they have spotted a ghost ship with a skeleton at the wheel.

On a semi-related note: Every day is Halloween for these poor kids in London Nightmare playground 1 Nightmare playground 2 From This Is Broken

Dear Pfizer,

I write to you today with a product idea that will surely make us both rich.

I have come up with a new product sure to catch on with generation X and Y, and nerdy programmers of all kinds, “Visine X-treme! The Visine With Caffeine”™ (Note the exclamation point is part of the product name. This is important for the x-tremeness of the brand. The drops should also probably come in a bottle with a green label).This would be like normal Visine, but with caffeine. Lots and lots of caffeine.

I will let you guys figure out exactly how much caffeine is appropriate in an eye-drop since you have all the scientists, but I would suggest “lots”.

Looking forward to hearing from you,
Josh

A lot of people are looking for menthol eydrops on my site, you might be able to find them at one of these links:

I am watching Animal Planet’s In Search of the Giant Anaconda with Austin Stevens.

bq. “Having tackled the most venomous snakes in Africa, Austin Stevens seeks out the largest and most powerful snake in the world. A snake which can weigh over 1,000 lbs, and measure 44 ” around. One of the few snakes in the world that actually preys on humans. Throwing a ‘death loop’ of coils around its hapless victim this monster is capable of literally crushing a man to death. Austin plans to photograph one of these feared beasts in its natural habitat. To do that he’ll need to wrestle it from the water. Austin is a black belt in Kung-Fu, but he has been undergoing additional training for this mission for the last twelve months, working on the amount of time he can stay underwater, and increasing his upper body strength. Now there is no turning back…”

The man has been doing “additional training” for Anaconda fighting?! Excellent.

Austin has just spotted a sleeping boa in a tree overhanging the river. I am on the edge of my seat here. Spinning back kick? Elbow strike? How is he going to take that thing out?!

After wrestling with the comatose boa for a minute or two he managed to hurl the both of them into the river below. I am not sure the boa ever woke up.

I, out of sympathy for the boa, actually fell asleep at this point. But I woke up in time to see the final anaconda confrontation. I think it was the dramatic music that woke me up. Yes, they scored his anaconda fight to music.

Before I describe this fiasco, can just I ask, if “Austin plans to photograph one of these feared beasts in its natural habitat” why in the hell does he “need to wrestle it from the water”?!

The anaconda was just swimming lazily when Austin leapt from the boat and tackled it. Not only was there dramatic music, but they actually had three or four of those stop-motion pan-around-the-action Matrix fight scene shots! I might have forgiven this idiocy if Austin had put that additional Kung Foo training into practice and used some kind of submission hold on the snake, but no, just more awkward flopping punctuated by stop motion “matrix shots”. Actually, I don’t think there is anything they could have done to make me forgive this. I stopped watching. Austin is a pathetic snake fighter, and the mighty anaconda looked mighty bored by the little man tugging on him. If I thought there was any chance the snake would have swallowed Austin whole (or that matrix-effect camera guy would be shot) the show might have kept my attention.

Who comes up with this crap? I am sure the producers initially wanted the snake to come at him with a gun in an alley, but were talked out of it by the staff herpetologist.

==

Producer: “OK, so the anaconda comes at him with a gun…”

Herpetologist: “Are you insane!?”

Producer: “OK then, a knife…”

==

The only way I will watch Austin on TV again is if there is a Crocodile Hunter special in which Steve Irwin has to photograph Austin “in his natural habitat”. Steve could ambush Austin as he walked to the mailbox. Leap out from the bushes, beat him into submission (I am really not worried about Austin’s Kung Foo after seeing it in action), hurl him into a stream and then photograph him.

That I would watch.

Dear Used Car Salesmen of the World,

Having recently shopped for a used car I thought I would point out an area that the vast majority of you could stand to improve in:
TRY NOT TO BE THE MOST DISGUSTING SCUMBAGS THE WORLD HAS EVER KNOWN!

Let me help you out by sharing some examples of my interactions with salesmen. These are actual situations and quotes.

1. You may notice that I call you by your name repeatedly as we talk. This is not because you have won my trust, this is because I am making fun of how you are using my name constantly in an attempt to sound friendly. You would try other methods of sounding friendly but you can’t think of any. This is because you have never liked, or been liked by, anyone.
2. When you say, “So give me a price”, I will say, “That is funny. I came here because you were selling the car. Somehow in my twisted logic I thought that meant you would know the price”. No matter how hard you press, “Tell me what price you need to see, Josh”, I will continue to say, “I will need to see your best price, Steve.”
3. There is no mystery to why I am looking for a used car. Please don’t pretend this is hard to understand. I explained this to a sales manager just last week. “‘Josh, why do you want to buy a used CR-V when there are all these new ones on the lot!’ ‘Well mike [leaning in close and said in a conspiratorial whisper] it just that…the used cars [looking around to make sure no one overheard, Mike leaning in closer]…well, the used ones…They are CHEAPER!'”
4. Your attempts at pressuring me may make me finally say something like I said to one young idiotic salesman, “You may notice that when you say “Well, I guess you are not serious about buying” I wince. I am not wincing because I feel badly about my newly discovered lack of seriousness. I am wincing because I am embarrassed for you and your awkward attempts at pressuring me. You obviously deal with a lot of foolish and easily intimidated people. That is lucky for you, since those are the only kind of people you are qualified to deal with. Goodbye.”

I could go on, but I want to help you, not just point out all the reasons you should throw-up everytime you see yourself in the mirror (Wait, do you actually have a reflection?). So, a few suggestions.

1. Every morning repeat 15 times. “I will try not to be a sociopath”.
2. Watch people who aren’t used car salesmen. See how people sometimes like them? Try to be like those people.
3. Strictly observe a national Used Car Salesman Day of Penance. On the last Saturday of each month you should engage in an appropriate activity from sunup to sundown, such as repeatedly poking yourself in the eye, punching yourself in the groin, or hitting your thumb with a hammer (bonus penance for combining all three).

Yours truly,
Josh

There really aren’t many things that make me want to cry, and in spite of the angsty nature of the last few posts, I am really doing well, and am quite happy. But then joe has to go and post this story. Go read it now, and then come back.

Did you read it yet? You didn’t did you? Here it is again, read it!

It may not make much sense to you without knowing the story, but even then it is still beautiful and well-written. If you know the story it will choke you up a bit, but if you were actually there your eyes might well up while you are sitting at your computer at work waiting for the next usability test subject to arrive.

It might make you think back to the days when your twin brother’s heart was giving out on him and you would stop by his house late at night and he would be sitting on the couch in the dark because he couldn’t sleep. King Medicine, by Jets to Brazil would be playing and even though Joe is much better now^*, that song still haunts you. It would probably haunt you even if the words had no meaning at all.

When you saw Jets to Brazil play live a couple of years after Joe’s surgery you might find yourself feeling a bit self-conscious about the tear in your eye when everyone else was just dancing. Don’t flatter yourself Jets To Brazil, it wasn’t the beauty of the music.

But you smile when you think of the cake that Adrienne made for Joe before the surgery. It had a heart drawn on the top in red glaze and said, “So long aorta!”

And you really smile when you think of the fact that Joe’s new aorta just had its third birthday.

^*(Joe still has to deal with so much more than his share of health related crap, but his heart is going strong)

Adrienne isn’t back yet.

After work I tried to rent a movie. I went to the store and spent all of two-and-a-half minutes walking past the rows of DVDs before flipping them off and leaving.

I went to the bookstore, walked in, walked past all the magazines, walked past all the photography books, walked past all the computer books, and walked back out. Total time spent in the store, 4 minutes. On the way home I stopped by Wendy’s and bought what had to be my sixth combo meal in eleven days.

I felt like I had to do something, but I never did. At 1 a.m. I went for a long drive up the canyon. The only cars I saw at all were 4 cops, lights flashing, chasing a car that showed no sign of slowing. Music playing, windows down, cold air whipping past my freezing ears and warm air blasting from the vents. Not much thinking, just driving in the dark and feeling the curves of the road and listening to music and the roar of the wind.

I drove forty miles up the canyon road and back again, passed my house and drove on. I downshifted as I started down a huge hill and felt something snap in the clutch. I lifted my foot and realized that the clutch no longer worked and that I was permanently in neutral. A 45 mph car is surprisingly hard to stop on a steep hill when you have no gears resisting it.

3 a.m. and a couple of miles from home I set out walking, the street lights cast three shadows and I watched phantom feet pounding the sidewalk ahead of me. Home, frustrated, and tired, I undressed. I pulled my shirt off over my head, felt a sharp slap and realized I had stuck my hand into the quickly spinning ceiling fan.

I lay in bed cut, bruised, and car-less, staring at the ceiling. I thought about the road and the wind and the music, and drifted off to sleep.

Adrienne and Reese are out of town for a week, leaving me to my own devices. My devices are apparently very very very boring. I have spent a lot of time sitting in my underwear eating cold cereal and watching TV.

Last night Adrienne’s sister Elaine was very kind and invited me over for dinner. She and her friends were very understanding in letting Old Lonely Guy (me) hang out with them and avoid going to my too-quiet house.

Tonight I decided to go to the bookstore because I actually caught myself watching Boston Public. Either Boston Public is slightly unrealistic, or my own high school experience was drastically lacking in spontaneous freestyle rapping about the works of Shakespeare (I have a hunch it was just my lame school).

I picked up a book while I was there. Jeffery Zeldman’s Designing With Web Standards, which I am sure is going to be great.

As I waited in the checkout line a middle aged goateed man in a Hawaiian shirt and shorts asked if I was the last person in line. I said I was and he stepped in line behind me. There was only one register open, and the couple at the register was, I believe, attempting to set the Guinness record for Indecisive and Slow Purchasing While Forcing Mindless Banter on The Cashier.

The guy behind me had enough and said, “Could you please call another cashier up here, I have a movie to be at in eight minutes!” Slow Couple finished before the second cashier arrived, so I turned to the guy and said, “I don’t have anywhere I have to be, why don’t you go ahead of me”. He said, ‘That is very kind of you, thank you very much”.

He made his purchase and left. As I bought my book one cashier turned to the other and said excitedly, “Do you know who that was?! That was Orson Scott Card!” I am curious how Mr. Card is going to reward me for my generosity. It seems likely that he will mail me a check for an obscene amount of money.

Now, since it is 10:30pm and I just realized I haven’t eaten any dinner, I think I will go pour myself another bowl of Cap’n Crunch.

The air is getting cooler.

I like to stick my arm out the window as I drive to work and feel the cool air blow across my forearm and occasionally scoop into my sleeve and billow-out my shirt. It feels like swimming.

Fall is slowly coming, and that is a good thing as far as I am concerned. I don’t like the heat. I did when I was a kid in Southern California. I used to love getting into a burning hot car and sitting there with the windows up for a minute. That feeling is gone. Maybe two years in Venezuela as a missionary cured me. 115 degrees, 90% humidity, and the sun hovering inches above your head can have that effect. My skin wasn’t designed to be in the sun either. I am probably only fit to live in Ireland or Seattle.

I like the crisp breezes of fall, the changing leaves, the transitory nature of it. I like wearing a coat and evenings that justify the drinking of hot chocolate.

Fall is a pleasant portent. A cozy-making messenger warning that the end is near. I think Duane summed it up well. He said something along the lines of, “Fall is Nature’s way of reminding you to hurry up and create something.”

In a bit of a funk. No, not feeling funky. That would be a good thing. The worst part, I have no real good reason. Hoping that the proper application of therapeutic music will snap me out of it. Any song suggestions?