I am mesmerized by large, flat high definition screens, stereo surround sound, sub woofers that shake the house and anything that has an Apple logo on it. I am usually beyond anal retentive when it comes to keeping my electronics in immaculate condition. I cringe when the kitty gets too close to the multi-channel receiver or when the wife sticks a greasy finger too close to the 24" display. Enter this past Sunday. A backpack carrying our treasured MacBook Pro was carelessly placed on the edge of a table in the Boise Airport terminal while Daddy was off procuring himself a Bloody Mary. An elbow (who's elbow is not important) accidentally knocked the backpack off the table and turned our once beautiful MacBook Pro into a hideous and deformed beast. We still love you, MacBook Pro. Even if you look like Joseph Merrick.

Labels: geekery, l-i-v-i-n, technology

The wife and I spent the weekend gallivanting around Boise, Idaho and visiting with family. Some highlights:

• Taking your intermediate level skiing wife down a run called Widowmaker first thing in the morning does not help her psychologically for the rest of the day. It just scares the bejesus out of her.
• My wife's grandfather, aged 97, to me regarding the Boise State Fiesta Bowl victory: "It was the best thing to ever happen to this town."
• A hotel room sink packed with ice can hold a twelve pack of Alaskan Amber nicely.
• My wife's grandfather, aged 97, to the jabbering ladies on stage during Robbie Burns Night: "Get on with it!"
• Haggis and Scottish shortbread cookies make for a fine meal.
• If the United Nations would only listen to heavily intoxicated, foul-mouthed artists and German citizens working towards Ph.D.'s in brain cancer research than this world would be a much better place.
• I was recognized as "That guy from the parade" twice in the same night. Once next to the urinal in the men's bathroom at the Bittercreek Alehouse and once outside the Bittercreek Alehouse by a throng of intoxicated college girls.

Labels: boise, idaho, travels, wife

A message to all pantsless subway riders in NYC: You are poseurs. I live the pants-free dream everyday. Or at least I did before this cold, arctic air rolled into town. Yesterday I reveled in the sub-tropical 18-degree afternoon by wearing Puma track pants and starting my car without it sounding like Han Solo's frozen Tauntaun just before it dropped dead. When the temperature gets back to above freezing again, then the pants come and off and sweet freedom returns.

Labels: l-i-v-i-n, pants-free

The wife after seeing me in a hockey jersey, baggy shorts and catching the stink of cologne on me:

"Look at you, getting all dressed up for work."

The hockey jersey, baggy shorts and cologne are a modified version of the Italian Shower, which, in its truest essence, a monochromatic tracksuit, a drenching in Armani cologne and at least four pieces of gold jewelry (which must consist of a watch, a ring, a bracelet and a crucifix necklace). A more accurate description of my slovenliness is a cross between an Italian Shower and a Navy Bath; which is hand soap and sink water splashed about the armpits and genitals than liberally dried and a caked-on or over-sprayed deodorant application. Either way, it is time for me to take a shower.

Labels: funk, italian shower, l-i-v-i-n, navy bath, wife

Working from home affords some tremendous opportunities; like watching the incompetence of our home owner's association labor contractors unfold before my very eyes. Take this afternoon for example. Armed with shovels and picks, Indian Summer Landscaping was out in full force today with orders to chisel away at the layers of ice on the driveways and sidewalks. This work is essential as Colorado is expecting another big storm this Friday and it would be helpful to have unobstructed gutters and walkways so the snow/ice can melt faster. Instead, I watched as the laborers worked hard at dragging their shovels down the middle of the already plowed street, smoking cigarettes and sucking down Giant Big Gulps. I hope we get fifteen inches of snow and you assholes have to work through the weekend.

Labels: colorado, l-i-v-i-n, snow, the fairways

Here in Denver, we have not pulled an intact, fossilized woolly mammoth out of the permafrost yet but I did just witness a family of Eskimos clubbing a baby seal out in the town home common area. I awoke this morning to another big winter storm (now dubbed "The Storm That Should Not Be") and the third immense snow dumping in the past three weeks. We are currently sitting on about seven inches of fresh snow here in the northwestern suburbs and it does not appear to be stopping anytime soon.

Labels: colorado, l-i-v-i-n, snow, the fairways

The wife and I spent the Christian New Year within stumbling distance from the house by slogging it to a party in a foot and half of ice, slush and snow with a backpack full of booze. We welcomed in 2007 with burnt pizza, shots of Jack Daniels, warm Squirt chasers and countless games of Guitar Hero (Kaye and I rocked in 2007 with a head-to-head ax battle of Cheap Trick's "Surrender" neither of us caring that it was past midnight). On New Year's Day we invited the in-laws over to watch the Fiesta Bowl in High Definition and eat sweetened swine. Three native Idahoans were in the house as Boise State upset Oklahoma in overtime to go undefeated on the season and wreak havoc on BCS voting. Swept up in the heat of the win, famed running back and crochet master knitter Ian Johnson proposed to his girlfriend. In other news, Jessica Alba throws a football in a bikini.

Labels: l-i-v-i-n, new years, tomfoolery, wife