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I'm not normally one to get involved in political discourse and I know the election's a ways off yet, but sometimes you get a real sense for someone and it doesn't take a coin flip to see they're the right person for the job.

It is without any reservations at all that I present this recommendation:


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I took a trip this past weekend to visit my 20-year friends Josh and Dave (previous meeting chronicled here). Josh is moving to Colorado in a couple of weeks, so this was the last time we'll easily be able to get together for a while. We met at Dave's in Ohio and then I went to the Detroit area, spent the night at Josh's, and came home Sunday afternoon.

There's nothing quite like having friends you've had for twenty years or more - half our time was spent reminiscing about "that time we..." The three of us have been friends through some of our darkest days, and if ever we don't communicate for a while, we're able to pick back up like no time has passed. I love these guys and I'm better for knowing them.

Here are a few picture highlights from the weekend:

Sure, I went out there to meet my friends, but when a kitten's this adorable, pictures must be taken!

Dave normally has a bunch of snakes in his basement, but for now he's just got the one slightly-chewed salamander. Clarification: the salamander was chewed by Murphy, the older family cat, not by Dave or any of his kids.

I don't remember what sort of knowledge Ella was trying to impart to Josh, but it looks like it was very important.

Seriously, how could dudes that look this young have been friends for more than twenty years?


Josh and Aundrea share a spare moment of relaxation after having gotten their five kids off to bed. It should be noted that this moment of relaxation didn't happen until northwards of 11:00 p.m. Apparently, managing five kids is a lot of work. Who knew?


This has nothing to do with Josh and Dave, but this has amused me for years. I used to pass this sign occasionally for work, but hadn't seen it in a couple of years. This weekend on my way home, I had to stop and take a picture. It's one building, half of it is a furniture store and the other half is a funeral chapel. I'm guessing they had to put the sign up because one too many people looked at a coffin and said, "This'd look nice in the front room, wouldn't it, honey?"

I also have three very short videos from the weekend up over at YouTube:

• Reliving the glory days - Post Pattern
• Not so much with the glory - The Running Back
• The camera was set to "video" instead of "picture." Oops. That's Dave's wife Angela that you'll hear in the background, and that laughing you see us doing is pretty much what we do the whole time we're together - 20-Year Friends

I still hate driving, but I'm glad I went.

Labels: friends, video

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On Tuesday I went down to Indy to meet my brother (and Dr. S.) for dinner. They were in town for a two-day training seminar and Tuesday night was the best night for us to get together. Michael (mi hermano) emailed me where they were staying, so I Googlemapped it and printed out the step-by-step instructions. I studied the route a few times and obsessively looked at it every few seconds once I got to Indy, on the off-chance that I had missed a turn. I arrived at their hotel without incident, and Dr. S. knew the area well enough that we found the mall and places to eat without too much trouble. After dinner and walking around the mall a bit, I dropped them back off at their hotel and Dr. S. gave me directions back to the interstate.

In, out, no problem. Home by 11:30.

Now rewind to last week...

A friend of mine (who shall remain nameless) put up a "Hey, I'm going to Indy to get some camping gear, anyone want to go along?" post on his blog. "Sure, sounds fun," I said. "Hey, while we're there, can we stop by this one other store?" Sure.

So on Thursday I find the address to my store and print out the directions, making sure to get the phone number, just in case. He (let's call him "L") and another fellow ("B") picked me up around 7 and we headed out.

About ten minutes into the trip, I ask L, "So, what's this store we're going to?"

L: "Oh, I'm not really sure."

Me: "I'm sorry, what?"

L: "Well, I know it's on 86th Street near the mall."

(It should be noted at this point that there are about a grillion stores on 86th Street.)

Me: "Um, so you don't know the name of the store?"

L: "It'll be fine. We'll find it."

Me: ". . ."

L: "And if we don't, it'll be fine. We'll be fine."

Me: [strangled noise emanates from throat]

L: "If you're so worried about it, call W. and have her look it up."

Me: [dialing W. before he'd finished the sentence] "Okay."

At this point, the conversation becomes downright surreal.

L: "Have her search for xyz."

W: "Nothing. Oh, wait - is this it?"

L: "No... that doesn't sound right. Wait, have her search for abc."

W: "Is this it?"

L: "No... I don't think so. Here, let me talk to her."

Me: "You keep driving!" (We were, as they say, making good time. I didn't want L. to be distracted.)

L: "Oh, wait, I remember. I went to the site and used their Site Locator!"

Me: "This information could have been handier twenty minutes ago."

W: "Here is the address and the phone number."

Me: "Bless you. You may have saved L.'s life and me from a lifetime in the joint for murder."

Whew. That was a relief. Now to call the store to confirm their hours and where they are.

Disconnected. No alternate number given.

At this point, I am, of course, envisioning that we will be lost forever and I'm wondering how long it took the Donner Party to take extreme measures and I am kind of hungry already...

L: "Hey, we'll just go to this other store. It'll be fine."

So we ended up going to the other store. And they didn't have the stuff he was looking for. But then we went for Italian food and came back home and everything was fine. And we had a great time, to boot.

I'm not sure when I turned into this guy, but the idea of driving without a specific destination in mind just about killed me. I don't do so well with the "no plans" parts of life, but not in every "no plans" part. That's the part I really don't get - why am I so OCD about some stuff, but not all stuff?

Labels: driving, friends, OCD

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Opening A New Restaurant Checklist

• What sort of food will we serve?
• What kind of atmosphere will we have?
• How will we embarrass people on their birthdays?
• Where's a good place for a restaurant?

I have to say, though, Texas Roadhouse has about the best way of going about it. Other places tend to have their own version of a birthday song that sometimes fits their overall theme, even if no one can ever understand the song. The servers tend to sing like it was a Nativity Play and they've been forced to wear a lobster suit and stand around the manger.

But at the Roadhouse, the servers confer amongst each other to get the loudest, most uninhibited person to lead the proceedings. I've actually witnessed it happening - "Chad, you do it. Please? No one can ever hear me if I do it." They make the birthday person sit on a saddle, pull one of the hanging lights over as if it were a spotlight, and ask anyone who can hear to "give a Texas Roadhouse 'yee-haw'."

And, apparently, sitting on a saddle, having a light pointed at you, and being yee-hawed at isn't enough. Now they've got these plastic cowboy hats for you to wear. I suspect the hats are designed for 12-year-olds, as it didn't really fit on my head all that well (as you can see). The nice thing about it being plastic is that I can use it as a dip holder when next I serve some sort of cowboy-themed chips at my next movie gathering.

Oh, and apparently there's a video of the yee-hawing somewhere, but I don't have it. Since I'm trying to move past posting about my birthday, you might never get to see it. I know you're crushed.


(Picture credit: Jeannie, who's taken my place as the official photographer of all things Careerian. Pictured (l to r): Me, the back of Jeannie's mom's head, Melissa, two-thirds of Wendy's face, and the back of Jeannie's dad's head.)

Labels: birthday

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As for the days of our life, they contain seventy years,
Or if due to strength, eighty years,
Yet their pride is but labor and sorrow;
For soon it is gone and we fly away.

-Psalm 90:10 (NASB)

Comic courtesy of PBF Comics, which aren't necessarily always something I'd recommend.

Labels: birthday

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Last night was a fantastic party at The Red Couch (aside from the fact that I'd forgotten just how gross The Penguin actually was - my apologies to all!).

Today my folks are on their way down for a visit. I've been up since a little after 7 (thanks for the assist, Nutmeg) trying to make sure everything's all ready for them.

Tomorrow is lunch at Texas Roadhouse.

So a pretty big weekend, I guess! 3 comments

I just got back from Spider-Man 3.

Hmm.

The parts they did right they did very right - Venom and Sandman were spot-on, for instance.

But the parts they did wrong? Ugh. I cringed way too many times for a Spider-Man movie.

Safe to say that 2 is still my favorite Spider-Man movie.

Labels: movies, superheroes

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The story you are about to read is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

With many assurances that my apartment "wasn't that bad," the members of 3 Cool Chicks Cleaners (Motto: "You won't recognize the place when we're done with it") were packing up their gear and headed out. Two-thirds of them had left when an SUV pulled up and parked behind the remaining car.

The SUV was gray, both indescript and foreboding at the same time. You might not notice it if were next to you on the street, but you sure as anything would notice it if it was specifically parked behind your car to prevent your leaving. Make no mistake: the parking was intentional. This was no "in the middle of the parking lot" stop. It was parked where it was parked for a purpose.

A man emerged, walked around the front of the vehicle, and stood near its passenger door.

"Excuse me," he said. "Are you _______?"

I didn't quite catch the name he said, but it didn't sound anything like my name, so I said I wasn't.

"How long have you lived here?" he asked.
"A year and a - well, two years this summer."

"Why am I telling this guy anything?" I wondered.

"Who lives next door?"
"Uh, I don't know any of my neighbors' names."
"How long have they lived here?"
"That one was empty for six months or more, and the people moved out of this one in November. These new people have only been here a little while."

"Why am I still telling this guy anything???"

"Oh. Well, I'm a private investigator and I'm tracking down ________," he said, as he started moving back around his SUV toward the driver door.

"Oh. Well... good luck."
"We'll get him," he said, climbing into his SUV and closing the door.

A bunch of thoughts ran through my mind:

• First, this guy was no Thomas Magnum.
• Second, while I was aware that there were actual private detectives hopping around, it was still weird to have this kind of reminder.
• Third, why did I tell him anything?!?
• Fourth, why is he doing this detecting at 9:30 at night? Is this like a second job for him so this is the only time he can do it? CPA by day, detective by night! (Really, though, by the looks of him, it would be "gym teacher by day.")
• Fifth, what did "the guy" do? Did "the guy" really used to live where I'm living? Should I be checking my apartment for hidden compartments full of cash? Maybe the guy left behind his elaborate schemes mapped out in specific detail. You'd think I would have stumbled upon any of that by now, but I'm not the most observant person. I'd make a lousy P.I.

TV shows have done the private detecting business a great disservice, I imagine. Being a P.I. isn't all about the shoot-outs, car chases, and charismatic one-liners. Nope. Even dudes driving SUVs around at night can do it, I guess. 3 comments