Quick Takes: Nobody Cares Edition

Wherein I write about things that are only of interest to me.

I had plans for several posts on diverse topics, but seeing as how none of the thoughts were congealing into structured, rounded, complete articles, I have decided to write partially formed, abrupt, unfinished tidbits on things none of you care about.

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OK, that last picture of Redemptrix was mean. Here's one of the ship in broad daylight, as an apology.

Redemptrix, as seen by a space-bug about to get gooshed all over the bow.

Quick Takes Addendum

Forgot some quick takes yesterday

What do you get when you have a cumulative 9.75% off at Target and a tax return? Everything, apparently. We are proud new owners of everything Target sells.

In our defense, I had been making a list for about two months of the things we needed, in hopes that one day  the gods of crass commercialism would look upon us with favor and bestow the means and opportunity to spend our fleeting wealth. Among the items purchased were:

New dress clothes for Damien. He had no dress pants that fit him. Well, I suppose technically they did fit, but they would have been better-classified as dress shorts at this point. Conveniently, Anthony automagically has a whole wardrobe that suddenly, mysteriously fits him.

A new belt for me. I should take pictures of my old one. It had run the gamut from hilarious, to sad, to hilariously sad.

New undershirts for me. I still occasionally wear undershirts that me dear mother bought for me in high school. You know, the ones I used to wear to dance?

New pillows. I can't remember if the ones we have now were bought new when we got married, 9 years ago, or moved into this condo, 7 ½ years ago.

Whiskey and rum, to end the torment and misery felt when looking up at the liquor shelf, sighing loudly, and muttering forlornly, "why is the rum gone?"

The Murloc also purchased sundries and miscellany. I have learned not to look too closely at the things she purchases. They might bite.

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And Anthony is sick again. Fever of 102°-103° running for the last couple days. He just finished a dose of antibiotics for his last illness/ear infection on Monday. This marks the fourth consecutive Sunday that he's missed Sunday Mass due to illness.

The Murloc went into full panic/remorse mode, wondering why her baby gets sick so often, and questioning, among other things, if he's sick because of her cooking or because she doesn't clean the house enough. Discussing this with a family friend, it was remarked that nobody can beat oneself up quite like a mother. It was also mentioned by said friend that "if not cleaning caused illness, then we'd [her family] all be dead."

Quick Takes (whatever day I finally post this)

...and I'm sick once again. I should just schedule blogger to auto-post an "I'm sick" post about once a month. It would probably be right most of the time.

The entire family is dying of the Lung Crud. This time, Anthony was patient zero, and I followed shortly after. Odd, though, that Anthony got sick on Friday, when he hadn't been out of the house since the previous Sunday. How are these germs getting in?

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Stations of the cross have been particularly penitential this Lent. I have somehow managed to always end up in front of a family who follows along at their own pace, disregarding the tempo set by Father when intoning the Stabat Mater, and who somehow always end up out of sync with the entire rest of the congregation when reading the other parts. It is a special kind of hell, when you are trying to sing or read and someone else is speaking right in your ear at a completely different speed. It's akin to the torture room described by C.S Lewis in That Hideous Strength, which had patterns of dots on the ceiling and floor, which didn't quite line up. It seems designed to break down your will.

I wonder of the CIA has ever tried that as an "enhanced interrogation technique". That or smearing potential terrorists' backs with bacon grease, waiting a couple days, then popping any back pimples that form. Cause gorram that would make me talk in a hurry.

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Quick Takes (3/1/2013)

Greetings from the couch!

Apparently, telling your wife that you don't believe in this whole "period" thing, and that she's just making it up, doesn't get you any brownie points.

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The Murloc wants to move to Mission Viejo. I want to move to Lake Elsinore. The Murloc has pointed out that Lake Elsinore is far from everything and everyone important (sorry, Blue Fox). This got me thinking:

Median sales price for Mission Viejo (Nov-12 to Jan-13):
$480,000

Median sales price for Lake Elsinore (Nov-12 to Jan-13):
$214,775

Price of a Cessna Skycatcher ≈ $145,000

The choice, it seems, is clear.

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Damien has reached the phase where he is now pretending to be things that he is not. He has previously pretended to exist in other states (such as pretending to be asleep, particularly when we're yelling at him, as if he can't get in trouble if we think he's asleep), but now he is pretending to be other creatures. After showing him the Simon's Cat videos on YouTube, he pretended for the rest of the evening to be a cat, and crawled around and meowed. He plays the act very well, since he will refuse to talk when he's a cat, and only nod or shake his head in answer to questions. After we put him to bed that evening, we would occasionally hear little mews from the bedroom. Just the other night, we gave him a piece of cheese, and while eating it he declared that he was a mouse, and began squeaking.

I'm sure child psychologists would talk about this being an important development milestone and indicates some form of cognitive step towards abstraction and the ability to reason. However, like a physicist explaining the colors of a sunset in terms of the light refraction caused by the interaction of different wavelengths of the electromagnetic spectrum with atmospheric dust, they would simultaneously be entirely correct and entirely missing the point.

You simply can't explain joy through science.

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Speaking of Simon's Cat, you can watch all the films here. They're short and cute:

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Colloquialism of the day/week/month: "As satisfying as bacon on a Saturday morning during Lent."

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Right now:
The Murloc is sewing a dress for a new friend's little girl's birthday. She likes to listen to her Aerosmith station on Pandora whenever she is sewing. It makes me feel like I'm back in college, rooming with Whale Biologist Tom Adams. Perhaps I should ask her to buy me a coke, for old times' sake.

Let's hope AJN and ECN don't get word of this cute little pink dress with pearls and lace, or The Murloc might have to start a home business!

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A spoiler/preview of CPM2DoB:

Friday Quicktakes (2/15/13)

...and I'm sick again. I think this is the sixth or seventh time in the last year. Can't tell if because of kids, I'm getting old, or I have AIDS.

I almost dodged this one. The Murloc got it first, which is unusual, and it looked like I was avoiding it. Then, well, something happened. It's a funny story, but... it's probably not suitable for sharing on the internet. Just think of the punchline to your favorite joke instead.

Hehe. Half a cat.

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True story.

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I came up with a good one today (well, yesterday, if you're reading this the day it goes live; who knows when if you're from farther in the future, in which case, greetings future human! Are you enjoying your flying car and personal jetpack?):

"Yo mama's so dumb she tried to defrag a solid state drive."

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Ah, EVE Online, that most interesting of MMOs, where an in game battle can cost nearly $25,000 real-world dollars. Eurogamer and Destructoid have the tale.

The battle destroyed 717 billion ISK worth of ships, and since in the game, you can purchase ISK with real-world money, and also convert your ISK to subscription time, this means there is a real dollar figure attached to virtual destruction.

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Shamus Young has been discussing Zombie Plans. Basically, what would you do in the event of a zombie apocalypse?

My zombie plan is really the same as my general apocalypse plan. I'm not thinking short term, like where to scrounge for guns, and what weapon is best against zombies. Most zombie stories only look at the days or weeks immediately following an outbreak. I'm thinking longer term. Like one, five, ten, or twenty years out. Where do you grow more food once the stocks of canned food have been used up? How do you preserve human knowledge through the collapse of civilization? Where do you go for support while rebuilding society? My answer is the same for any doomsday scenario: the abbey.

If you look back to the last time Western Civilization collapsed, it was the monasteries the preserved it, then built it back up. I figure, for the long haul, that's the place to be. St. Michael's is a half-day's walk from where I live, so accessible when the roads are clogged, or if cars are not available, and without any intermediate stopovers if we can only travel during the day. It's somewhat secluded, with access to education and the Sacraments. With a lot of strong, young men, it would be easily defensible. Open land around for hunting and farming.

So, you know, if the apocalypse happens tomorrow, you know where to find me.

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I close with this free-of-charge pro-tip: Never say "d as in dad" on the phone.

Quick Takes Friday

Greetings from Santa Catalina Island!

I'd love to tell you about how awesome it is here, but I am, in fact, not here. Right now, It's Tuesday night and I'm at home writing this, but when this goes live, I will be away from it all. Since I am communicating with you from the past, I haven't yet taken any pictures to show you. But here's one that probably captures the setting.

Facebook Miscellany 1/13 - 1/26

The most important news on the internet: J.J. Abrams to direct Star Wars VII. To me, this is wonderfully good news, as I have enjoyed all the Abrams films I've seen. According to IMDB, "'Argo' director Ben Affleck was also in contention [to direct]." (Insert huge gasp of relief here.)

I think the funniest response I've seen so far has been this one:

Star Wars Episode VII: Revenge of the Lens Flair

A note on why I like him: of the first three Mission Impossible movies, (the ones I've seen), #3 (directed by Abrams) was my favorite, while #2 (directed by John Woo) was an abomination that ought to be fed to the ravenous bug-bladder beast. What is interesting is that, in M:I2, the villain threatened to release a virus that would kill billions, and yet I could not motivate myself to care if the hero succeeded (I was hoping he wouldn't, so the heroine would be forced to throw herself off a cliff). In M:I3, we are never told what  plot the villain is attempting. There is no on-screen threat beyond the hero and his new bride. And yet I cared intensely.

And getting me to care about Tom Cruise is a feat in itself.

Now With Even Less Original Content!

A couple quick things. Firstly, I forgot this in the Friday link dump:

Her California accent sounds almost exactly like The Murloc's cousin.

I used to think that I had a neutral “American” accent, until I recently started doing voice work for my company’s training videos. This involves me recording and listening to my own voice a lot, and I’ve noticed two speech quirks that come through frequently. Firstly, I say “buh-n” instead of “button” and “frinstance” instead of “for instance”. It takes a lot of mental concentration to speak without the accent, and I end up re-recording a lot.

Secondly, go here to listen to the awesome "Gloria" that I heard at a Christmas concert I went to on Sunday. As I told my friend who sang in the choir, I wasn't aware anyone was still writing great sacred music.