MadMup.com

There's a reason they call those things at airports "terminals." If you spend the night in one, you'll feel as close to dead as you can get without being infected with the T-virus.

(For you non-gamers out there, the "T-virus" is what turns the residents of Raccoon City into zombies. My suggestion to you: avoid exposure to the T-virus. Also: avoid spending the night in an airport terminal.)

Kat and I are headed to Florida to meet up with Matt, who has been there since Tuesday. It is apparent that US Airways is dead-set against us being in Florida, for whatever reason. I can only imagine we have done them some sort of wrong in the past, and this is their way of letting us know. Frankly, a tersely worded letter would have sufficed.

Our Wednesday evening flight was delayed, and then delayed some more. We received a "courtesy call," (so-named because "take that, you hoser! call" would have seemed impolite) apprising us of the situation and asking us what we would like to do: take the delayed flight and spend the night in Charlotte, NC, or wait and take an early morning flight out of Indianapolis. We opted for the Charlotte route, thinking we might score some airline-sponsored free hotelage, or at the very worst, have to spend a few hours in the terminal. We figured Charlotte was closer to Florida than Indy was, so why not at least head that way.

When we finally boarded, we found the plane to be sparsely populated. In fact, the row right behind us was empty, so we moved back, largely because it was an exit row and it offered more leg room. I sat by the window and studied furiously what procedures I would take should the need arise. Manning the exit window is serious business, and I practiced the motions at least three times to be sure I could perform my duties when called upon. (For the interested, my duties were to grab the lower handle firmly, pull down the top handle, remove the panel, and then throw the handle out through the now-open wall panel. When I say I practiced these maneuvers, I do not mean that I actually removed the panel - I only mimed it. I did grasp the handles, but did not pull them nor eject any panels.)

We arrived in Charlotte unscathed, if a little disappointed that I had not needed to put into practice those things I had learned. Upon arrival, we found that we could get a discount on a hotel room, but not a free room. Calling the hotel revealed that "discount" meant "still $60 bucks" and we opted to stay the night in the terminal. After all, our flight was scheduled to leave at 7:45 a.m., and it was already past midnight, so it didn't seem too bad an idea.

Right off we were told we couldn't sleep in any area behind the security gates. We'd have to fend for ourselves in the section of the building where any Joe could wander in off the street and openly mock us for sleeping. After a bit of searching, we found a spot behind a Jaguar (the car version, not the feline version) that also had an electrical outlet. The Jag was on display in the terminal to encourage people to drive away and not stay there, I think. Regardless, it was about as comfortable a spot to be as we were going to find.

At this point, the evening took an ugly couple of turns:

• no available wireless Internet access
• strangely, no DVD-playing software on my laptop, even though I was sure there used to be
• NONE of the DVDs I brought with me (8+) had the freeware DVD player that ALL DVDs used to come with
• the terminal was COLD. Storage locker cold.

Not good.

Some of our fellow travelers found their way to our Jaguar-infested corner, and huddled in the chairs and on the floor, trying to find some comfort. One of them offered us a newspaper to use as an ersatz blanket.

Kat, as is her her wont, did some searching and was able to dig up some airplane pillows and blankets for us. They weren't much, but they beat the nothing (and the newspaper) we had up to that point. I set an alarm on my phone for 6:45, an hour before the flight, laid on the floor, and went to sleep.

Apparently, the Charlotte airport starts to get busy around 4:00 in the morning on Thursdays. I'm not sure how those parents were able to get their kids up and to the airport by that time, but I do know I wholeheartedly support any laws our politicians would like to draft to outlaw this sort of behavior in the future.

Having little choice, we decided to seek refuge at the gate where our plane would be leaving in almost three hours. And that's where I sit, still with no wireless Internet access, and with the sound of snoring from a gentlemen sleeping on chairs more than 20 yards away.

Ah, vacation.

(Note for the curious: this entry was retro-posted when I finally did get Internet access (7:30 Saturday night). That should answer the obvious questions you have.) 4 comments

I don't deserve it, but I'm going on vacation.

And where, you might ask, does a Midwesterner with a fear of travel go on vacation? Well, usually he just stays in his house and watches movies and plays videogames, but this time he's headed to Florida.

Yeah, it's a grillion degrees out, and I'm headed to Florida.

Of course, I am taking my laptop with me, so I'll still be geeky. And who knows how much time I'll actually spend outside? I burn easily since my skin has rarely seen the sun, so it's best to play it safe. I'm hoping to find some Internet access down there, but we're staying in a "retirement community" type condo, so it's not terribly likely. I shall search, though!

I'm also hoping to meet up with a couple of THorumites while I'm down there - it all depends on car availability, so we'll see how it works it.

Cheerio, chaps! I'm off to fry myself into little bacon-type pieces! 4 comments

My town has been invaded by frogs. Big ones. They're all over the sidewalks and they appear to be here to stay for a while.

It's Frog Follies, someone's idea to build community spirit. The thought process goes something like this: if everyone is walking around looking looking at giant painted fiberglass frogs, no one's going to be knifing each other and knocking over banks.

What happens is that different groups sponsor a frog. The frog is then painted, named, and put out for display on the downtown sidewalks. There are two different frog poses: your basic getting-ready-to-hop pose that you're most likely familiar with, and a pose that can best be described as "yoga-ish" or "sunbathing." You can see pictures of both poses on the website I've linked. I'm a fan of the yoga frog pose, myself.

It's kind of neat. It's fun to see what sort of visual puns the artists come up with. My favorite frog so far is one that's had ear extensions, is painted green and is wearing a Jedi robe: Toad-a, his name is.

Some of them end up being nothing more than advertisements for the business that's sponsored it, and that's too bad, but it's still enjoyable to see a frog painted to look like a car, I guess.

Some are just painted with patterns rather than having a theme, so there's plenty of variety.

We had something like this a couple of years ago but with pigs. I'm not sure why we've had pigs and frogs. This practice of having painted fiberglass things started in Chicago with cows, from what I've been told. Cows at least make sense in Chicago, what with Mrs. O'Leary's cow and the Stockyards and all. I know of no similar frog or pig legends from around here, but maybe I've just not been reading the right papers.

The frogs'll be here all summer, so if you're driving through, feel free to stop. Just don't try to steal one: they've got motion sensors in the bases that are monitored by a security company. We had one to many pig thefts the last time around. Community spirit means different things to different people, I guess.
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When I was growing up, a lady in our church would occasionally make "Twinkie cake" for our church potluck dinners. It was basically a yellow cake split in half lengthwise with a creamy filling between the upper and lower halves. It tasted like a Hostess Twinkie, but better.

Oh, man, was it ever good.

I used to beg Mrs. Frieling to make one when I knew a potluck dinner was coming up. She never really gave solid answers one way or the other, as I recall, but occasionally one would show up. Between that and her Apple Crisp, Mrs. Frieling's desserts were a thing to look forward to.

(It should be noted that my mother has always made wonderful desserts as well. It's just that Twinkie Cake holds a special place in my heart.)

Somehow or another we finagled the recipe from her, and different people have made Twinkie Cakes for me over the years. There's also the "Susie-Q" version, made with chocolate cake, and the "Creamsicle" version, made with orange cake. The secret is that magical filling.

This weekend, I had occasion to go to a dinner party. I was struck with the idea that the "Thing I Take" should be a Twinkie Cake. None of the people attending had ever heard of it, much less had it, so it seemed perfect.

There was only one problem: I'd never made one before. The one time I had attempted it, I needed to call in reinforcements to fix it.

Undeterred, I put a plan into action. I had the recipe tucked away in an email, and I printed it off to use as a shopping list. Fifty dollars later, I had everything I needed. Why so expensive? Well, though I was the cookie maker in my house growing up, I have long since given up on any cooking whatsoever. Putting things in the microwave is about as fancy as I get. I will occasionally put a Tombstone pizza in the oven, but that's where it ends. I'm fascinated by the cooking process, but there are two major things that bother me about it. A) It's messy. you end up with 14 dirty bowls and utensils for one end product. I hate that. 2) Cooking is not an exact science. Your best cooks/chefs/whatevers don't even use recipes. They can just tell when the thing they're making is right. Ask them for a recipe and they'll say things like "Add a pinch of this and a little of that until it looks right." Ugh. I want to know that I add exactly two eggs, exactly 1/3 a cup of oil, and exactly two teaspoons of vanilla. Because of all this, I did not have any of the basics needed for Twinkie Cake making. Buying all of your staples at once tends to be expensive: sugar, flour, vanilla extract, eggs - things I'll never use unless I make more Twinkie Cakes. Throw a hand mixer in there and the price goes right up.

Your basic Twinkie Cake consists of a standard box mix cake. Once that's made, you have to flip the cake out of its pan, cut it down the middle, and then put the bottom half back in the pan. Then you make the filling and spread it on the bottom half. Then you put the top half back on. These are more complicated steps than they might appear. Moist cake doesn't flip back into pans as well as you might like it to, and cake breakage is not to be desired.

Any of you who remember my foray into breadmaking might suspect that things did not go smoothly for me. You'd be right to think so. The finished Twinkie Cake is supposed to sit in the fridge 24 hours before serving (it's good right away, but it's so much better after being in the fridge overnight), so I started on it Saturday. I made the box mix cake, and when it was done, tried to flip it out of the pan. It wouldn't flip. I tried loosening the edges with a fork. It wouldn't budge. I decided to let it sit upside-down in its pan on a cooling rack over night, thinking that gravity would do its work and I'd have success by the morning. Well, I had partial success. One part of one corner came off, at least. Argh. Remider: don't just grease the pan, flour it as well.

While a person more in control of their baking prowess might have been able to make do with what they had, I decided to start over. I went to the store and got another cake mix and made it, making sure to grease and flour the pan this time. When it was done and cooling (flipped out successfully!), I made the first part of the filling, which involves heating milk and flour together on the stove - this is the part I was most nervous about, but it went well.

Then I went to make the next part of the filling...only to find I had gotten the wrong kind of sugar. Instead of granulated, I had gotten powdered. Back to the store for me.

With the filling finished and applied, the task of flipping the top part of the cake back into the pan was next. Two problems with that: it was thin and it was moist. The thinness meant I couldn't really pick it up without it tearing. The moistness meant it was sticking to the grid of the cooling rack. Argh. I finally decided to try something drastic: since it was sticking to the cooling rack, I tried flipping the whole cooling rack over above the pan. Success! ...sort of. Most of it came off, but large portions of it stayed stuck to the rack. The tiny bit of common sense I have kicked in, and instead of pulling the rack off and thereby destroying the top layer of cake, I whacked the bottom of the rack with a spatula until the pieces slowly fell off and into place on the cake. Huzzah!

From there it went into the fridge and then to the party. The powdered sugar I had mistakenly bought was put to good use - it both decorates the cake and hides the cracks, if applied correctly. Still, I was nervous. I had no idea if it would taste right. I had talked up Twinkie Cake quite a bit to my friends, and I didn't want their first experience with it to be a bad one. I fidgeted all through dinner.

Then people started having it. And they started liking it. I had a piece, and it tasted familiar. I got a strange feeling, one I didn't recognize at first: a sense of accomplishment.

-----

I hope Mrs. Frieling doesn't mind, but I thought I'd share the recipe with you, in case you want to give it a shot. Remember, for Twinkie Cake, use a yellow cake mix. For Susie Q Cake, use chocolate. For Creamsicle, use orange. For anything else, use your imagination.

Twinkie Cake

Prepare a yellow cake mix as directed on package for 9x13 cake pan. Once the cake has cooled, turn it out on to a level surface and cut in half lengthwise (2 layers).

In small saucepan, cook 5 Tblsp flour and 1 cup of milk until thick like pudding. Set aside to cool.(Note: it must be completely cool--put it in the fridge for best results).

Cream together:
1/2 cup crisco
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup butter
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla

Add the cooled flour mixture to the creamed mixture and mix well until light and fluffy.

Return one layer of cake to the pan, spread with filling, replace top layer on top of filling.

For best results, cover the pan and place in the fridge for 24 hours. Cover any "problem areas" with powdered sugar before serving.

Enjoy!

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I know this won't make up for my lack of blogging, but you could also amuse yourself by noting the hot chocolate counter to the right.

I've been very busy lately, but I will attempt to get back to regular blogging soon.

Labels: game review

4 comments

We have an improv gig tonight that looks to be huge. It's for a credit union members meeting, and we could have anywhere from 250 to 1000 people in attendance.

Yikes.

That's a pretty big crowd for improv. An improv show depends on the audience for suggestions and participation and there's some concern that the crowd won't be as engaged because they're farther away from the stage. There's also some concern because each of us needs to wear a body microphone and we're not used to it. Plus, the stage is a lot bigger than we're used to. So, there are a lot of concerns.

There's also a lot of excitement, though. This is a chance to put on a good show and have a lot of people go away thinking "I'd like to see them again" or, better yet, "I'd really like to hire them for something else in the future."

Corporate gigs can go either way. We've had several that went really well, but we've had at least one that went horribly awry. It depends on the mindest of the attendees, the setting, and us as performers. There's a lot that can go wrong.

Corporate gigs are generally the best-paying gigs we get. I'm not in improv for the money (though it'd be awesome to be able to make a living at it somehow), but the money is always welcome.

My biggest goal in a show is to not mess everything up. "Don't mess everything up," I tell myself before each show. If I add something or even end up being funny, that's a plus, but I really am just aiming to not mess anything up. I want people to go away from our show thinking we were funny.

I'm not sure why that's a major pursuit of mine, but it is. I want people to be happy. I want people to laugh. I want people to smile. I know it's not such a big deal long-term whether I can make people laugh, but I feel good when it happens. If I think about it, I can get a little depressed about the fact that my two main outlets in life (improv and computers) don't really mean that much and won't leave any sort of lasting legacy. But when the final song plays and we leave the stage and people are left laughing, I feel like I've done a good thing, however short-lived it might be.

I've long had this conflict - the industry I've always been most attracted to is the entertainment industry: acting, singing, writing, comedy, talk show hosting. At the same time, I know that it's ultimately a worthless endeavor. What redeeming qualities lie in the entertainment industry? How does it help? Isn't it more of a distraction than a means to betterment? The argument could be made that a person made famous by the entertainment industry could use that fame to make a difference in other areas. We see actors trying to do this all the time - hugging trees and whatnot. The problem is, to be in a position to make any difference, you've got to be a big star, and the chance of anyone becoming a big star are pretty slim. Most performers languish in obscurity, hardly able to make a difference in their own lives, much less anyone else's.

I think it boils down to a question of mortality: what will remain of me when I'm gone? None of us wants to be forgotten, but the chances are good that we will be. We want to do things that will make a difference and will make a lasting impression. Some people do this by having children, others by building big buildings. A lot of people, though, look to film as a way of preservation. We still remember names like Humphrey Bogart, Marilyn Monroe, and Bela Lugosi to this day, even if we've never actually seen a movie starring any of them. They were famous, they were entertainers: they are remembered. Those of us doing local improv might dream of such things, but it isn't likely to happen. For me it ends up being like the old adage: "Find something you can do and do it well."

Twenty-five years from now no one will remember tonight's show, but I'm still going to go out and do what I can to not mess it up. It's something I can do so I'm going to do the best with it that I can. I'll try to figure out a meaning for it somewhere down the road. 7 comments

Some of you might know I love to play Scrabble. My chances to do so are few and far between these days, but I enjoy it when I get the chance. Lately I've been embroiled in a match with an Internet friend (Charley) that's been fun, except for the fact that I've slacked on getting my latest turn back to him. We're using this program here, which makes it easy to play games via email. If you buy it, let me know and we'll get a game going. It's lots of fun. It also allows for live Internet games, so if that's more your thing, let me know.

I like words. I like learning new words, especially if they're useful. I appreciate a well-turned phrase and wish I was better at turning them myself. I think it's why I started with an English major in college. Games like Scrabble and Boggle (but, oddly enough, not UpWords) are my favorite types. You can keep your games of chance and your fast-paced, all-cards-flying-at-the-same-time games, thank you very much. I just can't keep up with those very well. My little brain can't deal with them.

I've recently rediscovered that I like crossword puzzles. And by "recently" I mean "last week." I was doing server upgrades last week, and there are points in the process where files copy for a long time and not much else can get done. There was a local paper handy, so I started doing the crossword puzzle. I like the local paper puzzles because I can usually get 90-100% of them. I'd be no good at the New York Times puzzle, but I do all right with the local paper ones.

Unfortunately this new soon-to-be-an-addiction means that I have to buy a paper every morning so I have a puzzle to do at lunchtime. Nevermind the fact that it costs me fifty cents, there also isn't a good place along my route to work for me to get a paper. I have to go blocks out of my way to get one at the Burger King or the McDonald's, and if I'm there, I'm tempted to get something to eat, and that's just no good.

I'm seriously thinking about getting a subscription to the paper, but I think I'm going to wait and see if the addiction takes hold. It might just be a passing fancy. I used to do the local paper crossword when I was as ecurity guard back in college, but that was because the workplace had an available paper every night.

You might be thinking "Why don't you go out and buy a book of crossword puzzles and do those?" I've tried that, and it's not as fun. I don't know why. Maybe it's that the newspaper crossword doesn't have the answers in the back. Maybe it's the idea of finishing one of the day's tasks, even if that task isn't crucial. For whatever reason, I'm enjoying the daily crossword puzzle.

One more plug to buy Scrabble Online. It's only $15 at Amazon, and if you're even a passing fan of Scrabble, it's a good investment. you can play against Maven, the computer player, and sharpen your skills with all sorts of mini-games. The real fun comes from playing face-to-face with someone, but the computer version is a pretty good warm-up.

Labels: Scrabble

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I have been given - no, scratch that - I have earned the nickname "Bear of Little Brain" because I have a hard time remembering things and I get confused easily. I'm not even such a fan of Winnie the Pooh (where that phrase originates), but it fits me pretty well, unfortunately.

As a BoLB, I am constantly writing myself reminder notes. Post-Its are one of the best things ever invented. Unfortunately, this system sometimes goes awry. I have a Post-It on my desk right now that has two words on it:

Cabinet email

I haven't the foggiest idea what it means. Any thoughts? 5 comments

I like living in the past - it's so predictable.

-Satchel, from Get Fuzzy

Labels: it's been said

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For a school computer tech, summers are crazybusy. We've got new computers to set up, old computers to upgrade, servers to upgrade, and all manner of other things that just sort of pop up from time to time. The theory is that we can get all this done while the students and teachers are gone. The reality is that summer school goes through July at my school and teachers pop in at various times all summer as well. Regardless, I have a schedule I'm following so I have a general idea of what labs or classrooms I'm doing on what particular days.

This week was set aside to do the new lab. By "new" I mean "replacement," as I was able to get rid of all the old computers in it and set up 30 new ones. The old ones were in rough shape and I was glad to see them go. The last few months with them have been a constant barrage of "#14 can't see the network" and "the mouse on #28 will only go from side to side, not up and down." Hardware failures and software hang-ups were commonplace and I was tired of it. I was never so job-happy as when I was unhooking them and putting them in the "To Go Away" pile. Well, that is, I was never so job-happy until I got to start setting up the new ones.

See, one of my favorite things in the world to do is to start from scratch. If something needs to be fixed, my first instinct is to dump it and start fresh. This applies to everything from baking bread to installing an operating system on a computer. If, for example, I was to mess up by forgetting to put the paddle in the breadmaker before adding the water and bread mix, I would most likely throw the whole mix out rather than try to dump it out, install the paddle, and dump the mix back in. In an OS install, if I install something that causes an effect I don't like and can't back out of completely, I'll most likely wipe the hard drive and start the OS install from the beginning.

I call this mindset a "video game mentality." You're down to your last health bar and you've got 5 shots left. You turn the corner and find yourself face to ... ankle with a T-rex. Five ineffective shots and one quite-effective bite later, and you're restarting. Problem is, your last save game file was right before you entered the T-rex's canyon. At this point you have three options:

1. try to find a way to beat the T-rex with only five shots and your wits
2. go back the way you came, scouring the level for any health packs or ammo you might have missed
3. go to the Menu > Restart Level option and make sure you have plenty of health and ammo before you get to the T-rex canyon

I'll choose Option 3 nine times out of ten. I might try Option 2 once, but it rarely seems to work. It just seems easier to go back and start the level over, since the next time through, I'll know what's coming. Game machines come with a Reset button for a reason, I figure.

So, while it was time-consuming and hard work, I liked setting up the new lab. I got to route the wires and cables the way I wanted, and I got to make sure all the monitors were situated correctly and all of that other obsessive-compulsive-related minutiae that goes with it.

I can't help feeling, though, that this starting-over-rather-than-fixing thing is a weakness on my part. I look at others who will "do what it takes!" to get something fixed and I'm jealous. The easy response is to say "that's just who I am" but I believe that's a cop-out. I believe people can change, even if I'm proof that they don't. This is something I'd like to change, though. Not in all areas, mind you, because I'll never believe an OS install isn't better when it's fresh and unsullied. I'd specifically like to change it with regard to people. If things get bad and a relationship goes sour, will I try to fix it? Unlike computers, it isn't so easy to just "start over" with a person. Our memories aren't built that way. Most can forgive, but it's hard to forget, and without forgetting, it's hard to say "things are okay now."

These are the times when I'm glad I don't remember things. I don't tend to think people have done me wrong - not so much because they haven't, but because I don't remember them doing it. Do you know those people who hold grudges for years and years? I could never be that person without the help of some gingko biloba or a written record or something. I might have the vaguest recollection that there had been something, but I'll be danged if I can remember any details.

Of course, the bad side of that is I don't remember good things, either. I'll have a file marker in my brain that "so-and-so is sweet" but I probably won't specifically remember that time you said something nice to me or what it is you said. I hate that my brain doesn't keep those things. I know I've lived my life because I'm still here, but I feel like I've lost most of it to the effects of time on my little brain.

Blogging has been a way for me to hang on to some things. I'll occasionally go back and read through old entries and I'll be reminded of what was going on at that particular time, and it helps remind me of specifics - dates, times, people. It's unfortunate that one really good electromagnetic pulse will wipe all this out. Memory is a fragile thing and time smoothes out the details.

Stupid time.

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(Stolen from Pixel, though pretty much everybody's got it going on.)

A- Age of 1st kiss: 16

B- Band you are listening to: Nothing right now, but the last one was Kasey Chambers, even though she's not really a band all on her own.

C- Crush: Though Orange was always good, back when I drank soda I preferred Cherry Crush.

D- Dad's name: James Allen

E- Easiest person to talk to: Myself, and I do it all the time.

F- Favorite ice cream(s): Butter Pecan, followed closely by Mint Chocolate Chip covered in caramel sauce. Mmmmmm.

G- Gummy worms or gummy bears? I do not care for gummy anythings. DOTS are as close as I get.

H- Hometown: Lafayette, IN.

I- Instruments: I can play the piano and the recorder, but neither proficiently. I can kazoo with the best of them, though.

J- Junior high: Calvary Baptist Christian School.

K- Kids: I've met one or two I liked.

L- Longest car ride ever: Five summers worth of traveling all over the country. That's plenty for me, thanks.

M- Mom's name: Shirley Jean

N- Nicknames: MadMup, Mup, and any derogatory thing people can come up with.

O- One wish: I wish I could time travel.

P- Phobia[s]: Traveling in a car outside the city limits. Germs. Other people. Small spaces. New things. Change.

Q- Quote [s]: "Some people have a way with words. Other people ... oh ... um ... not have way, I guess." - Steve Martin

R- Reason to smile: Good friends.

S- Song you sang last: "Hallelujah" by Rufus Wainwright

T- Time you woke up today: 5:53a, 6:00a, and 6:07a.

U- Unknown fact about me: I wear T-shirts under every other kind of shirt, regardless of the weather. Sometimes I wear a T-shirt underneath another T-shirt.

V- Vegetable(s) you hate: Most of them.

W- Worst habit: Procrastination. Unless "being unmotivated" is a habit. If it is, I choose that.

X- X-rays you’ve had: Torso - they were checking my lungs for fluid, I think.

Y- Your favorite person as of right now? Batman.

Z- Zodiac sign: They say "Taurus." I say "Echidna." 3 comments

Dear Mr. Burton,

This is a difficult letter for me to write - I hardly know where to begin.

We've had some great times together, you and I. From the wackiness of BeetleJuice to the misunderstood Mars Attacks! to the instant classic Big Fish, we've had laughs and chills and thrills. Thank you for all of them. Even your missteps have had good points. I didn't care for Planet of the Apes, but your portrayal of an ape society was undeniably right on. You're my favorite director - don't ever forget that. Edward Scissorhands, Nightmare Before Christmas... the list goes on and on. I even have a VHS of Frankenweenie!

When you made Batman, you changed my view of comics and comic book heroes. I know it had its problems (the Joker did NOT kill Bruce's parents!), but I loved it. We hadn't seen comic book heroes treated as real characters before - even the Superman movies didn't feel quite right - and you showed us that it could be done and done well. When asked for my favorite movie, it was my go-to answer. I used to keep track of how many times I'd seen it, but the VHS copy I was making the tally marks on has long been lost and I've lost track.

I liked Batman Returns, too, though I felt you missed an obvious choice. Batman 2 ... Two-Face? Does this not make sense to anyone but me?!? There was too much going on, and the inclusion of two villians started an ugly, ugly trend to stuff too much into one movie. It still worked for you (and Michelle Pfeiffer is still the best Catwoman ever), but it wasn't as good as the original.

Of course, you can't be blamed for the next two Batman movies. Joel Schumacher deserves special and painful punishment for what he did to Batman in those movies. I still can hardly talk about them without tears coming to my eyes.

But I digress. This is about you. About us.

I don't know how to say this, so I'll just say it: I have a new favorite Batman movie.

I... I'm sorry. I didn't expect it - it just ... happened. I thought Batman Begins looked pretty neat, but I'd had Batman for so long I never thought...

I got to see Batman Begins tonight, though, and I can't help it. It's without a doubt the best Batman movie ever made. And - this may hurt, and I'm sorry - it's the best one by far. I don't consider myself an expert on the Batman character or anything, but this movie captured him and the Batman universe like nothing before it.

There's so much more I could say, but it isn't my intention to twist the knife any further. I'm so sorry. I never expected this.

You're still my favorite director. And we can still have Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and The Corpse Bride, can't we?

Sincerely,
MadMup 6 comments

My first review in a long time is up over at DEN. I would consider it a personal favor if you would read it.

Labels: game review

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Anyone who's ever gone with me to Olive Garden has probably also made fun of me for asking for more mints than however many they bring at the end of the meal. I can remember one particular time when the waitress brought an actual styrofoam bowl full of them for me. I still get mocked for that particular occasion, and it's been a couple of years since that one happened.

For me, an Olive Garden meal isn't complete without the Andes mint taste at the end of it. I've had a meal or two there where I didn't get a mint, and it ruined the meal experience for me. If I had known beforehand that they were out of mints, I wouldn't have eaten there. Really.

I've been told "you know you can just get a box of them at Wal-Mart, right?" Of course I do. Why, though, should I pay $3 for a box of mints that I only want after eating Olive Garden, especially when I can get enough of them at Olive Garden right after eating there? Especially considering how much one pays for a meal at Olive Garden.

As I mentioned, I've been mocked for this practice. Frankly, "mocked" isn't a correct enough word. I've been made to think I'm some sort of freak who belongs in a sideshow for this practice.
It was comforting, then, to find that I'm not alone. On Friday, Tycho at Penny Arcade (I can't in good faith recommend their site - they use naughty language as a matter of habit) wrote about how Gabe has the exact same "problem," and it caused a further problem when he went to get a membership card out of the same pocket where the mints were being stored. I quote it here because I love the way he wrote it:

The mints themselves came from Olive Garden, which I'm slowly realizing we have some kind of fascination with, and since I'm not partial to mints regardless of the mountain range he usually takes all of them. And he makes it clear during the check phase of the meal that a single mint will not be sufficient. Oh no. When they come back to grab the card and run it so that their lives may continue, he places a hand on it and in a low voice, so low they must bring their ear close to hear it, he establishes that it could be "worth their while" if they bury him in mints. I am certainly pro tip, I have a a bank of odd neuroses regarding it I will bore you with at some point, but if the idea is to secure as many mints as possible there are grocery outlets in operation which could no doubt improve the rate of exchange. He's not into it, there's something about that ritual that makes the mints more flavorful. At any rate, this is all meant to say that he probably had somewhere in the neighborhood of ten mints in there with his wallet and his Edge card. His pocket had become a kind of rich stew.

It's just nice to know I have company, even if we're on the train to Weirdsville. 5 comments

I'm a lazy cuss. Frankly, I'm probably the laziest cuss you're likely to run across. I don't like to do stuff, even if I know it's good for me - even if it's essential for me, really. Like eating. I really don't like to eat.

Actually, what I don't like to do is prepare food for eating. The eating part I guess is okay. I know plenty of people who go through the effort to make themselves meals, and by "meals" I mean actual things that they cook that take more than two steps to make. I'll never understand it. Sure, I know it's cheaper to make your own meals and it's generally healthier for you, but the effort and time required to not only prepare the meal but also to clean up afterwords? No, thank you. For me, opening a plastic pouch and putting its contents in the toaster or the microwave is about all the preparation I'm willing to do. Mixing cereal and milk in the same bowl is about as creative as I get in the food preparation department.

Now, if someone else is willing to prepare meals for me, I'm okay with that. In fact, a peanut butter and honey sandwich tastes much better to me if it's made by someone other than me. Yes, I'm capable of making one, and yes, I have the necessary ingredients (well, except for bread right now), but it just doesn't taste as good to me if I make it myself. Heck, I didn't even know I liked PB&H sandwiches until someone made me one. Since then, I've made myself a few, but they just didn't taste the same, so I gave up on it. This carries over into other meals, too, of course. Pretty much anything that I could make myself tastes better to me if someone else makes it.

This is probably why I like restaurants so much. Fast food, cafeteria-style, full-service - it's all good. Someone else has made the food and that's good enough for me. The full-service places are the best though. I sit down and someone brings me whatever I ask for. What a life! When our Founding Fathers fought to free us from the tyranny of British Royals, who'd have thought they were also fighting for us all to feel like little kings when we sit at a restaurant and have things brought to us? Maybe you don't feel that way at restaurants, but I kind of do.

Of course, the person serving you makes all the difference with the experience. I can feel like a mini-king one time at a restaurant with a great server, and feel like an unimportant freeloader another time at the same restaurant with a lousy server. "Bring me flagons of raspberry lemonade!" can quickly be replaced with "May I have a crust of bread, if it isn't too much trouble?"

(A side note: just this week, I've had water spilled on me by two separate waiters. Tuesday dinner at Olive Garden I got soaked pretty thoroughly. The next day for lunch at Puccini's Smiling Teeth (another Italian eatery), another waiter tried to soak me and succeeded only in getting a few drops on me. The OG server was nervous as he was new and had a trainer following him. The PST server... well, I'm not sure what her deal was. I think she was sent to give me some sort of warning. Two "spills" at two separate Italian eateries in the space of 18 hours... I don't like to stereotype, but I think it's possible there's some sort of Water Mafia I've crossed somehow. "Today it's your pants. Tomorrow it could be your whole outfit. Do we understand each other?")

A lousy server doesn't necessarily guarantee I won't return, but does make it less likely I'll come back. A great server will guarantee my return visit. A really great server will guarantee that I'll come back specifically hoping to have them again.

A few months ago, I went to a local restaurant with my friend Kat for lunch. We had a very nice meal - the special for the day was a fantastic pasta with ham in a cream sauce that is one of the best things I've ever eaten my life ever - and the waitress was super nice (and very smiley - always a plus). She kept my glass filled with raspberry tea, and when she brought me a piece of walnut-oatmeal pie that had been heated and I asked if there were any pieces that were cold that I could have instead (yes, I like my pie cold), she very happily brought me another piece. Very nice.

A week later, we went back to the same restaurant. As luck would have it, we got Jackie again. (I made special effort to read her name on my receipt this time.) When she came to our table the first time, which is normally when the drink order is taken, she brought me two glasses of raspberry iced tea. From that point on, I never had less than a full glass of tea. I asked her if they happened to have the special they had last week, because sometimes a special is something restaurants have all the time and just bring focus on occasionally. She said she was sorry, but they didn't have it. "But!" she said, "Let me go see if the chef will make it for you." I protested a little, but off she went. She somehow conned him into making it for me, and it was every bit as good as I remembered it. Toward the end of the meal, on one of her many tea-supplying return trips, I asked what pies they happened to have that day. "I was hoping you'd ask!" she said. "I've been saving the last piece of walnut-oatmeal pie for you, and it's in the fridge!" At this point, of course, I'm going to have the pie, even if I'm so full I can barely form words. Jackie got a tip that was roughly half of what my bill was that day. Best. Waitress. Ever.

I've been back to that restaurant several times since then, and I always sit in Jackie's section. Frankly, I don't really think the food is all that good there. That pasta special is the best thing I've ever had there, and they don't have it that often. I don't tend to presume that Jackie can get it made for me every time, but I always secretly hope she'll offer. She's always treated me nicely, and I'll admit that I've gone there to eat on days that I was feeling a little down because I knew I'd be cheered up having her as a server.

Unfortunately, the last four or five times I've gone, she's not been there. I even specifically went for lunch on my birthday because it would have been a nice addition to my birthday, but she wasn't there. After the third time she wasn't there, I asked the server if Jackie still worked there, because I was worried. "Yes, she just went home early because we weren't busy."

Dang it.

I've considered trying to find out her schedule, but I'm trying to curb my stalker-like activities these days. So for now, it's hit-or-miss.

That's just how important good service is, though. I try to remember that when people need my help. There's a difference between helping someone and "service with an actual, honest-to-goodness, I-really-mean-it smile." I'm not always a Jackie, but I've tried to keep my water spilling to a minimum. 4 comments

Donny Osmond is going to be at our local Barnes & Noble this evening, and I am missing his appearance to go to improv practice.

History will show what a fool I am. 6 comments