It's weird inside here.

So last night I dreamed that I took wifezilla out for a date night.  We hit the town and did all kinds of stuff, and it was really fun.  Strangely, though, we kept running into my friend Mike from work everywhere we went.

Toward the end of the evening, we stopped in at a bar so wifezilla could get a coke, and there was Mike tending bar.  He got mad and told us to stop following him.

I apologized, and told him it wasn't my fault.

He responded, "Well, it's your dream, it sure as hell isn't my fault."  O_o

Too much? I can never tell.

NOQ: *slides down your chimney*
NOQ: *stuffs your stockings*

TACO: Hooray!

NOQ: *runs out before you blow the rape whistle*

TACO: Jingle my bells!
TACO: Deck my halls!

NOQ: I will do so..gently.

TACO: Gimme a white Christmas!

NOQ: *blows white christmas all over your face*

TACO: Oh my
TACO: You seem to have come upon a midnight clear.

NOQ: I Totally did.

One step closer to my goal of making this a meme.

COWORKER: I hate when open source developers make you check out their shit from the repository and build it. Just make it available.

TACO: I'm firmly convinced that OSS developers are of the opinion that if it was hard to write, it should be hard to use.

COWORKER: Yeah.

TACO: Whatcha trying to get?

COWORKER: A mocking framework called Mockolate. Pain in my ass.

TACO: So, would you characterize the difficulty they impose on their users as a "mock block?"

COWORKER: I hate you, Larry.

Jazz Hands!

WIFEZILLA: Guys' bodies are so weird.

TACO: It's a biological inevitability.

WIFEZILLA: Still weird.

TACO: It's not my fault. You go into REM sleep, you get a raging boner. Fact of life.

WIFEZILLA: Still weird.

TACO: You should be happy. You pounce me in the middle of the night, most of the work's already done for you.

WIFEZILLA: Still weird.

TACO: Okay, I have to admit... I'd be kinda freaked out of women... you know...

TACO: [jazz hands around his junk]

TACO: [hisses]

TACO: ... like that dinosaur on Jurassic Park.

WIFEZILLA: *chokes* Okay, that was pretty good. Please don't ever do it again.

Problem Solver.

KIDZOOKIE: Will you help me learn to be a detective so I can be one when I grow up?

TACO: Sure. Next time I take a crap, you can practice by trying to detect what I had for lunch.

KIDZOOKIE: Okay, first? You're disgusting.

The Brokeback Opry

I want to write a gay country and western ballad called "You Made My Brown Eye Blue."

Nearsighted? Get some hindsight.

fett mentioned reading through my old posts today. That intrigued me, so I went back to my very first blog post and worked my way forward.

It was an interesting read, largely, I think, because enough time has passed that I'd completely forgotten the majority of them. So I had no emotional ties to them, and being thus completely detached from them, I reacted more honestly than my usual immediate self-loathing.

I read the kids a lot of the ones that are about them, and we laughed.

Then I got to the ones from about a year ago, when I found my new job, handed in my notice, and then finally started the new job.

I've been frustrated with it lately, because we're introducing a lot of new development practices and such, and it's a tough row to hoe. Getting people to ditch failing dev processes and get on board with things that are more work (but actually, you know, work) is hard... uh... work. And maddening at times.

But rereading those old posts reminded me: I fucking love my new job.

Thanks, fett. Your intervention was timely.

Story Time with Taco

Error: Server is Stubborn

Got her.

SPIKE: [NARRATING THE SCENE BELOW HIM] Say no more. Evil's still afoot. And I'm almost out of that nancy-boy hair-gel I like so much. Quickly, to the Angel-mobile, away!

WIFEZILLA: Oh yeah, like Spike's hair isn't all hair-gelled.

TACO: I knew you were paying attention!

WIFEZILLA: Was not!

The Checkered Flag

WIFEZILLA: And then you do this when you finish.

TACO: ...

WIFEZILLA: Are you watching?

TACO: ...

WIFEZILLA: Watch.

TACO: ...

WIFEZILLA: [mimes]

TACO: We're never having sex again.

WIFEZILLA: Oh, come on. I bet I look funny, too.

TACO: I should've given being gay a chance.

WIFEZILLA: What the hell would that solve?

TACO: Better sexual mechanics. Gay guys wouldn't be able see what ridiculous faces I make when I cross the finish line.

Someone should invent antilock brakes for mouths.

WIFEZILLA: [sigh]

TACO: What?

WIFEZILLA: All the women at your office are so thin and pretty. I don't like it.

TACO: Well, they're a lot younger than we are.

TACO: Can I pretend I didn't say that out loud?

WIFEZILLA: Go ahead. That's what I'm doing.

Yes, indeed it is.

Turns out I'm not mature enough to shop for tea. Who knew?

Did I mention nipple?

TACO: Your shirt is too thin.

WIFEZILLA: Why?

TACO: I can see your belly button. And is that your nipple?

WIFEZILLA: [looks at shirt and sighs heavily] No, that's a butter stain.

TACO: I'm going to pretend that's your nipple.

WIFEZILLA: That's not my nipple. [points] That's my nipple.

TACO: I'm not going to pretend that's your nipple.

WIFEZILLA: Why the hell not?

TACO: Because that really is your nipple.

Sarcasmotron at 82% Capacity and Rising

TACO: Wake up.

KIDZOOKIE: Nguh.

TACO: Why do you have a pink blanket?

KIDZOOKIE: It's Girlzookie's.

TACO: No, it's yours, isn't it?

KIDZOOKIE: Nguh.

TACO: Admit it. You want to be a pretty little girl. You wake up in the morning and go, "Tra la laaaaaa."

KIDZOOKIE: Yes. I wake up in the morning and go, "Tra la laaaaaa." Then I go outside and pick flowers, and look for rainbows, and then I ride a freaking unicorn. That's exactly what I do.

One of Us

TACO: What the hell are you watching?

KIDZOOKIE: [blah blah blah]

TACO: Your brain is a frightening place.

KIDZOOKIE: It's a twisted labyrinth that you'll never find your way out of.

Apparently, I've made the joke too many times.

COWORKER: Hey man.

TACO: Hey, what's up?

COWORKER: I've got a question for you.

TACO: Wyoming.

COWORKER: Thanks!

COWORKER: [pulls a post-it off his desk]

COWORKER: [hands TACO the post-it]

POST-IT: What was the first state to grant women the right to vote?

Freud Sucks

WIFEZILLA: We're gonna have pork and corn...

TACO: PORN?!?!

WIFEZILLA: PORK. And CORN.

TACO: Shit.

Kitty's Got Claws

WIFEZILLA: Whatcha doin'?

TACO: Playing a tower defense game.

WIFEZILLA: Oh. Is your World of Warcraft not online?

TACO: No, it's fine.

WIFEZILLA: Why aren't you playing?

TACO: Kinda bored with it. My friends haven't been playing lately.

WIFEZILLA: Oh. They got girlfriends?

TACO: Damn, woman.

Of course I don't get permission until he's already found a job.

WIFEZILLA: I'm gonna have to wear my glasses for a couple of months.

TACO: ??

WIFEZILLA: Tore my last ones again. I can't afford to keep buying a new pack every two months.

TACO: Ah.

WIFEZILLA: Maybe when we're millionaires.

TACO: Hmm.

WIFEZILLA: 'Course then I could get a Seeing Eye Person.

TACO: A Seeing Eye Person would be cool.

WIFEZILLA: Or a Doing Eye Person.

TACO: [points at self]

WIFEZILLA: No, you're too busy most of the time.

TACO: No, I mean would your Doing Eye Person do me?

WIFEZILLA: If I'm tired.

TACO: Get a hot one.

WIFEZILLA: A girl, I assume?

TACO: W...

WIFEZILLA: Or Coyote, yeah, I know.

Turnabout, Fair Play, and the Symmetric Property

TACO: I have heartburn.

WIFEZILLA: Why do you have heartburn?

TACO: Because there is acid in my esophagus.

WIFEZILLA: Must you?

TACO: Ugh. Where's the antacid?

WIFEZILLA: In the antacid bottle.

TACO: Touche, madam.

She did what now?

My droid's autocorrect slays me.

kr4ster: how goes it?

Taco: Pretty good. Shit morning, on. the. phone with support forever. Hoe ate things your way?

Taco: Best typo ever.

620.911738 days

PHONE: Ring. Ring. Hey, Taco, it's that recruiter who has called you eight times today but won't leave a voicemail.

TACO: Hello?

RECRUITER: Yes hello I am speaking to Taco?

TACO: Yep.

RECRUITER: Yes hello Taco I am recruiter I am representing opportunity for 1.7 year contract are you interested?

TACO: The hell?

RECRUITER: Excuse me?

TACO: That's a weird duration for a contract.

RECRUITER: I am sorry?

TACO: How many days are in 1.7 years?

RECRUITER: One year plus seven months.

TACO: No, seven months is 7/12 of a year. Roughly. They vary in length, so it's a pretty terrible unit of measurement. But let's accept it as a basic unit. One year plus seven months is 1 7/12 years. You said 1.7. 1 7/10 years. How many days are in 1.7 years?

RECRUITER: This contract runs from blah blah blah to blah blah blah.

TACO: Ah, I see. That's not 1.7 years.

RECRUITER: No it is for one year and seven months.

TACO: But you said 1.7 years.

RECRUITER: Yes.

TACO: You see my difficulty.

RECRUITER: Sir are you interested?

TACO: How many days are in 1.7 years?

RECRUITER: *click*

Google no poner el queso en la ropa interior del diablo.

What Google thinks my sister said:

Hey Mama had planned money if guys are having wanna follow up on people who else.

What my sister actually said:

¡Hola hermano! ¿Qué tal? Es tu hermanita. Llámame prontito. Adiós.

Kidzookie vs. the Troglodytes

Tomorrow is my son's first day of 3rd grade. He's currently upstairs crying because he'll go back to being bored, primarily because they don't let him read difficult enough books. I'm simultaneously proud and depressed as fuck.

Ish.

WIFEZILLA: Turn the air off, I'm cold.

TACO: No.

WIFEZILLA: I'm nakedish!

TACO: Pfft. You're not nakedish. You're wearing a tshirt nightgown thing.

WIFEZILLA: Ish!

TACO: Yeah, yeah, I'm nakedish too.

WIFEZILLA: No, you're wearing jeans.

TACO: There's a lot of play in "ish," bish.

WIFEZILLA: There's something wrong with you.

And God I Love My Wife.

We've taken to having lunch at the same place every Sunday. Wifezilla worked as a waitress for a while, so she's pretty picky about service. It's kinda nice, actually... all the waitresses know my kids' names, and treat us really nicely.

Today, the place was packed, and they clearly hadn't anticipated it... there were only three waitresses working. The three of them were hustling all over the place at more or less a dead run. We felt bad for them, so Wifezilla went around the place giving each of them a pretty generous tip.

We tipped more than we paid for our lunch today. Stuff like that makes me pretty proud to hang out with her.

God I love my kid.

KIDZOOKIE: We learned about the Presidents today.

WIFEZILLA: Can you name some?

KIDZOOKIE: George Washington. Lincoln. Bill, um... Clinton?

WIFEZILLA: Very good. Which one was the first President?

KIDZOOKIE: George Washington.

WIFEZILLA: Do you know who's the President now?

KIDZOOKIE: Barack Obama.

WIFEZILLA: Do you know which President came before him?

KIDZOOKIE: All of them.

Leroy's service has really gone downhill.

PHONE: Ring. Ring. Ring.

TACO: Hello?

RECRUITER: Hello, may I speak to Taco?

TACO: You're talkin' to him.

RECRUITER: Yes hello I am calling about the job opportunity in Charlotte. Is this an area you are interested?

TACO: Charlotte? No.

RECRUITER: Yes where are you interested?

TACO: Raleigh.

RECRUITER: I will check if we have any opportunity there will you hold?

TACO: I...

HOLD SYSTEM: Muzak!

TACO: [Holds]
TACO: [Holds]
TACO: [Holds]

RECRUITER: Yes hello we have an office in Charlotte is this an area you are interested?

TACO: You just asked me that.

RECRUITER: Oh yes, hold please.

TACO: [Holds]
TACO: [Holds]
TACO: [Holds]

RECRUITER: Yes hello we have an office in Charlotte...

TACO: Hi, yeah, is this Leroy's Ba'b'cue Shack? I'ma need a bunch o' ba'b'cue. Gimme a mess o' ba'b'cued chicken, too, mama won't eat that pulled pork. You still got that tater salad? I need some o' that too. And how about

RECRUITER: Hello?

TACO: ...some hush puppies, the kids go nuts for them things. And some green beans and some corn and gimme some gizzards, about a pint, I love some gizzards, no livers though. I don't want no damn livers. I find any livers and you ain't gettin' no tip.

RECRUITER: Hello, is this Taco?

TACO: I'ma need a whole mess o' sweet tea, too. We gon' have about fitteen people out, how much you reckon?

RECRUITER: [click]

TACO: Maybe 5 jugs?

Genital Discourse Page 2

I remembered the other genitally whatchahoozits I wanted to talk about the other night.

We have flushless urinals at work. This is generally a Bad Idea. Because by the end of the day, the bathroom stinks like a monkey. Who. Um. Pees. On flushless urinals.

Anyway, it reeks. But it's also given rise to a new game.

For the past few days, I've entertained myself by peeing into the urinal such that the pool cycles in opposition to the Coriolis Effect. When I finish, it's a race to see if the Coriolis Effect can undo my work before the urine has finished draining.

I read the wikipedia entry on the Coriolis Effect this week and they say that the effect is minimal on draining fluid in bathtubs, sinks, and the like compared to other forces acting upon the fluid.

Translation? My pee is mighty!

Genital Discourse

There needs to be a Weird Al style parody of Silent Lucidity that's about prostitution. It should be called High Rent Nakedity. So get right on that. Thanks.

The eye doctor determined that the problems I've been having with my eyes have nothing to do with scratches on my corneas, but rather, I've been continually reinfecting them with the bacterial frappe that's developed in my contact solution case. So he gave me a different kind of solution that fizzes. Everything is better when it fizzes. Contact solution, cold and flu medicine, beer... the list is endless. Which leads me to believe that they should make fizzing condoms. Wifezilla says no. She denies my genius.

I had another genitally charged thing that I wanted to say here but I can't remember it. Oh well. Alien wingwongs. Discuss.

My Lord and Master is pleased.

We seem to be running a theme lately

WIFEZILLA: Hey.

TACO: Hey.

WIFEZILLA: You're pretty cute.

TACO: Mm.

WIFEZILLA: Did you know that?

TACO: No.

WIFEZILLA: Well, you are.

TACO: Explains a lot.

WIFEZILLA: Like what?

TACO: I can't keep my hands off myself.

WIFEZILLA: I've noticed that.

Faceplant

WIFEZILLA: My boob itches.

TACO: Want me to bite it?

WIFEZILLA: It's kinda sweaty underneath.

TACO: Never mind. You're disgusting.

WIFEZILLA: Oh, like you don't get sweaty under your stuff.

TACO: That's different.

WIFEZILLA: How in the hell is that different?

TACO: I don't put my face in there.

WIFEZILLA: If you could put your face in there, we wouldn't have a house.

TACO: If I could put my face in there, there wouldn't be a we.

WIFEZILLA: Oh, come on!

"Special" eyes.

Finished filing my taxes. You'd think I'd file them early since the government always owes me money. But you'd underestimate my laziness.

Got promoted today. Weirdest promotion ever. The boss pulled me aside to ask me if I'd reconsider taking the job because they couldn't find anyone they liked for it, and they thought I was doing a really good job. Turns out to be the job I thought I already had. Banks are fucking weird. Everyone's some kind of vice president so you can't tell what your damn title is. Anyway, that misunderstanding cleared up, I jumped on it, so now... I have the job I I've been doing for the last four months, and thought I'd been hired to do. So yay.

Panicked phone call from wifezilla today. The dryer asploded. Pretty sure it can be repaired -- (the whole upstairs) smells like the motor just burned out -- but the dryer is 10 years old and wifezilla has hated it since day 1. So I'm buying her a new one. Whee.

Nothing makes me feel older than buying appliances. I think I may go buy a new video game to counter the effect. Perhaps that Dante based game Coyote wrote about.

Talked to wifezilla about hiring somebody to get the leaves out of the yard this year, since I manage to injure my poor joints every year, and the leaves wind up killing the grass while I recuperate. A couple of college age kids from the neighborhood came around looking for work today and said they'd do it for $75. That's a fucking steal. I think they're going to regret doing it. Or maybe not. They gave me one of those Come To Jeebus fliers as they were leaving. Maybe I should offer them $100 if they leave me alone about religion.

New puppeh is growing at an alarming rate. I sit and watch her for 5 minutes and I'm pretty sure I can see her doing it. Had her puppeh factoreh removed this week. The Dog Antipregnification Doctor said she's a fox hound. Our usual vet says she's a beagle mix. I'm siding with fox hound guy, because 1) I looked up AKC info and pictures when we got her, and that's what I think she is, and 2) it sounds cooler than "beagle mix."

The 1-800 Contacts "Special Eyes" commercial cracks me the fuck up. I imitate his "my brand!" exclamation for a solid 15 minutes after every time it comes on. Which pretty much means I do it nonstop from the time I get home from work until we turn the TV off and go to bed.

MY BRAND!

It's better than the miitard. And wifezilla hates it even more.

Which reminds me, Coyote, we have a new mail lady, and she asked wifezilla what the hell kind of name Yay Miitard is. I love that joke more every time it happens.

I'm not mature enough for this.

Found in the back of my daughter's activity book from the Easter Bunny.

FINISH HIM!

Each night, if they've been good, before they go upstairs, I play a game with the kids. They take turns picking the game. Tonight was my son's turn. His favorite game is currently Munchkin (which is an awesome damn game, by the way).

Since it was already rather well past the time they're supposed to go upstairs for the evening, we decided to play a short game, to level 5 instead of the usual 10.

The game started out reasonably well. He nabbed an elf card. I got a cleric card. He drew Divine Intervention, so I got a level. I drew Mithril armor.

He played the sex change curse on me. Crap. Penalty of -5 on my next combat roll due to distraction (hey, boobs!).

I kicked in the door and found a Plutonium Dragon.

Oh. Shit.

Dragon? Level 20. Me? Level 2 + 4 for armor, -5 for hey boobs!

So I throw out my Magic Lamp. Dragon go poof. Taco gets to take the dragon's treasure. That means drawing 5 treasure cards. Nice.

And.

I.

Drew.

These.

Cards.




I think I'm retiring from Munchkin. I'll never top tonight's game.

Well, Pappy O'Daniel liked it.

A series of text messages today:

TACO: me.setSunshine(you);

TACO: me.setSunshineCount(1);

TACO: if (Colors.GRAY.equals(sky.getColor()) you.getMe().beHappy();

WIFEZILLA: You = dork;

Shhh. Don't tell Coyote.

I'm finally watching Tropic Thunder.

Things That Happened Today

Difficult Thing That Happened Today:

TACO: Molly!

MOLLY: [trots up]

TACO: [tries to put antibiotic eye gel in Molly's eyes]



Awesome Thing That Happened Today:

FRIEND FROM COLLEGE WHO IS AN AWESOME DEVELOPER: Hey, I saw you changed jobs. Do you like it there? Are there any openings?



Inexplicable Thing That Happened Today:

RECEPTIONIST: I didn't get your RSVP for lunch because the invite was sent to a mailing list, not to you directly. I'm sorry, I didn't know you were coming. I didn't order you any lunch.

TACO: Cool.

RECEPTIONIST: I'm so sorry. It's not my fault.

TACO: Hey, if this is the worst problem I've got to deal with today, I'm having an awesome day.

RECEPTIONIST: You're not mad?

TACO: Nah. It's a nice day. I'm gonna go buy some lunch at the deli and eat outside. Want anything while I'm out?

RECEPTIONIST: Nothing ever gets to you, does it? Everybody else gets all mad, but you're always calm.

TACO: You really don't know me, do you?

Google Got Drunk for St. Pat's

What Google Thinks My Voicemail Was: "Hey man, this is gonna flake everything fact that."

What My Voicemail Actually Was: "Hey, man, just calling to say Happy St. Patrick's Day."

I think I may be at my best when I'm miserable.

Met some new people today while I had a horrible, debilitating migraine. Made a really good impression, and came off as witty and awesome, largely because I was too busy suffering to second guess myself. Huh.

CotD: Twofer Tuesday Edition

Conversation the First:

TACO: [plays the Star Wars edition of Life with the kiddos]

GIRLZOOKIE: Dark side!

TACO: Here's another dark side token. You're turning into one evil little turd.

KIDZOOKIE: How about me?

TACO: You only have one dark side token. Your guy is just kinda rude.

KIDZOOKIE: Crap! Well, I'm going down the next Dark Side path. So I'll have two tokens.

TACO: Congratulations, you've upgraded to whiny and petulant.

KIDZOOKIE: This game sucks.

TACO: Excellent roleplay, Anakin.

KIDZOOKIE: Huh?



Conversation the Second:

TV: [plays some stupid shampoo commercial]

WIFEZILLA: [quoting stupid commercial to mock it] Does your hair feel as good as it looks?

TACO: I'm going bald.

WIFEZILLA: But does your hair feel as good as it looks?

TACO: I don't have much hair.

WIFEZILLA: [sigh] Fine. But does it feel as good as it looks?

TACO: It's falling out. It looks scared. My hairs are all like, "Oh, shit, I could be next." What does scared feel like?

WIFEZILLA: Dork.

Wild and ca-razy guys.

With respect to this piece of hawtness I found today:



TACO: Just FABULOUS.

BLUE: Scary

TACO: It makes me feel pretty!

BLUE: It would make the people around you nervous

TACO: Oh, sorry, I did't mean wearing it. I meant by comparison.

I am a pioneer in the exciting field of Shit Not To Say To Your Girl Ology

WIFE: How do you like my hair cut?

TACO: Cool, you got a celebrity hairdo.

WIFE: Oh? Which celebrity?

TACO: Derek Zoolander.

Mean Even for Me

TACO: All right, that's enough. You have to get up for school tomorrow.

KIDZOOKIE: Going to school on Saturday sucks.

TACO: Remember how you kept dancing around all week when school was canceled due to snow, and I said "you just wait until you have to go to school on Saturday"? Well, here you go.

KIDZOOKIE: Man. That was mean even for you.

Google: Are You Feeling Horny?

I've been meaning to post one of these for a while, but keep forgetting. I started using Google Voice a while ago, and I pretty much love all of its features... but in particular, I love the voicemail transcription. When someone leaves me voicemail, Google hops to work translating it into digital text, and then emails it to me and texts it to my phone.

One thing has become abundantly clear. Google doesn't know what the fuck my friends are saying. And it's awesome.

So:

What Google thinks my voicemail was: "Hey Taco, It's Brian called to see if you want to get together today. Give me a call for making breakfast. Right now [phone number removed] or 6 number which is that your number. Naked. Hey, [another phone number removed] Hi, [another number removed] . Talk to you later. Bye."

What my voicemail actually was: "Hey, Taco, this is Brian. Uh, called to see if you wanted to get together today. Um. Gimme a call. We're making breakfast right now. [insert phone number], or... Nick's number, which is... what's your number, Nick? [another phone number being yelled out from the background] Talk to you later. Bye."

Smurf the smurfing smurfers.

So given the new job (and my absolute lack of any banking industry experience), I've been taking a lot of training classes. Today, I had to take a course on money laundering. At which I learned about smurfing. This is beautiful. They actually smurfing named the crime smurfing. Smurfing awesome.

Gradually Ruining That Woman

TACO & WIFEZILLA: [watch 30 Rock]

TACO: What the hell? Kenneth is over 40?

WIFEZILLA: He'll never look any older. He's like Michael J. Fox.

TACO: So he'll just gradually get more and more blurry?

WIFEZILLA: Was that a Parkinson's joke?

TACO: Yeah.

WIFEZILLA: Meep meep.

TACO: Hellbus?

WIFEZILLA: Yep.

TACO: God, you're awesome.

She talks in her sleep.

A couple times a week, wifezilla is already sacking zees when I get to bed. She frequently talks in her sleep, and when she does, she's often nearly coherent, so that I have a hard time at first figuring out whether she's making fun of me, or just unconscious. They can be some of the most wonderfully bizarre conversations I ever have.

Every time it happens, I promise myself I'll remember it. Then I fall asleep and the next morning, all I can remember is that the conversation was weird.

So tonight I ran downstairs to blog it while I remember it.

WIFEZILLA: Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

TACO: [gets into bed]

WIFEZILLA: Why is your bra on my head?

TACO: What?

WIFEZILLA: Why is your bra on my head?

TACO: My what?

WIFEZILLA: Your bra. Why is it on my head?

TACO: I don't have a bra.

WIFEZILLA: Well, you do now, Bra-Head.

TACO: Wait, why am I Bra-Head if the bra is on your head?

WIFEZILLA: Quit it.

TACO: Quit what?

WIFEZILLA: Zzzzzzzzzzzzz.

For Yay Miitard Use Only

This subscription that Coyote got me may be the greatest gift I've ever gotten. It just keeps getting more entertaining month after month.

With Apologies to my Christian Friends

I got bored at Barnes & Noble so I put some bibles in the science fiction & fantasy section.

Long Day is Long

Cliff's Notes on Taco's Day:

6:00a - Get up, start getting ready, start pouring coffee down gullet.

7:00a - Drive to work.

7:45a - Get to work.

10:00a - Guy asks for help with some Java work he's doing. Start trying to untangle his mess.

11:00a - 30 minute meeting w/ guys in London developing a piece of the product for us.

1:15p - "30 minute" meeting ends. Meeting was very productive, though. Possibly the most useful meeting I've ever had.

1:30p - Go downstairs to deli for a quick bite. Sammich was ok but not for $7.

4:00p - Hand teammate untangled mess. Explain what I did. Attempt to correct his tendency to abandon standard, mature APIs that don't immediately work in favor of self-rolled code (that fails in boundary cases). Probably won't stick. Hold off on screaming fit over utter lack of knowledge of Java standard practices for a rainy day. Start working on incorporating latest info into my portion of our project.

4:15 - Realize dude has wiped out my test tables. Start recreating test data. Keep names of new test tables secret. Promise to invoke hoodoo curses at next opportunity. Reluctantly admit I should have predicted we'd step on each other's data. Still plan on hoodoo. Google price of sacrificial goats.

4:30p - Boss asks if I can have my portion of the project (including latest info & changes) ready to hand off to architect tomorrow. Tell him I'll do my best, but spent the bulk of the day force feeding best practices to a contractor. Offer to stay late to get it done, ask what time tomorrow it's needed to avoid delay. Boss says don't stay late, if it won't make it, just let us know asap. Refuse to delay release on my first project.

5:30p - Leave office to meet family for dinner. Find every moron on road between office and restaurant. Food is delicious. Fun evening. Wish father-in-law safe trip back home.

7:30p - Back at office. Dude I Secretly Suspect Is a Gay British Time Traveler From the 19th Century is still there. Make note to find out his name. Set coffee machine on high test. Begin swilling.

7:31p - Wonder if Gay British is redundant.

8:00p - First of many trips to bathroom in accordance with my elaborate coffee tag & release program. Find $8 on floor outside a conference room. Wonder if it belongs to gay British time traveler. Look for him to ask, but fail to find him. Reason that if it's his money, he'll just go back in time and pick it up before I find it. Pocket it.

8:30p - Trade text messages, PMs with Blue. Plot on folks 'n' rascals. Rack up impressive list of text messages. Give up and call. Chat about books, her recovery, and more plottin'. Okay, maybe not the plottin'. But she's got a PM about the plottin'. Did I mention plottin'? Plottin'.

11:00p - Finish vast majority of work due by tomorrow. Exhausted. Leave, grabbing one last mug of high octane coffee for the road.

11:10p - Radio station plays 1 Bourbon, 1 Scotch, 1 Beer. Almost makes it worth working late. Holler along. Badly. Mostly mumbling until the title line. Don't care. Holler louder.

11:20p - Pull in driveway. Get mail. Come inside. Dog is waiting on me at the door, hops up to get pet. Dog is awesome.

11:30 - Sit down with slice of cold pizza, can of beer. Start writing this.

My Holiday Movie Binge

I already had quite a backlog. I've been on a DVD-watching dry spell for a while. Partly because it's a fun way to drive Coyote insane (no, I'll never watch Hot Fuzz). But the pile finally started to call to me. And the post-Christmas DVD sale at Target netted me some sweet sets. I succumbed.

District 9. I wanted to watch this so bad when it was in the theater, but work was insane at the time, and I never managed it. Really fantastic film. Though I do have to wonder why the aliens went through the trouble of developing weaponry that would only respond to their genetic code.

9. Ditto on this one. Was desperate to see it in the theater, but damn work. Advice if you haven't bought it yet: don't buy it at the same time as District 9 like I did. All those 9s confused the register monkey, and she double charged me for this title. I had to go stand in line at customer service to get my money back. The lady at customer service was a bitch. Fucking Best Buy.

I heard pretty ambivalent things about this one. Most of the reviews I saw said it was visually fantastic, but had a weak story. I quite enjoyed the story. And I did find the visuals quite amazing. Learning of the stitchpunks' origins does seem to take a bit of the awe and magic out of the world, but I still loved it. Then again, I'm a sucker for a post-apocalyptic setting.

Paranormal Activity. Holy fucking hell. Our household is divided on the ending (wifezilla prefers the alternate ending, while I found the theatrical ending to be far more hair-raising). We're pretty much united on the "it's goddamn scary" front, though.

True Blood. I knew basically nothing about the show, but a couple people I know have said good things about it. Been thinking about picking it up on Netflix. Target only wanted $17 for season 1 after Christmas, though, so I figured it was can't-lose... if I didn't like it, I could get most of my money back at the used bookstore down the street.

How little I knew of the show was quickly apparent: Didn't realize Anna Paquin was in the show. If I'd known, I probably wouldn't have bought the DVDs. I hated her in the X-Men movies. Fairly impressed with her in this show so far, though. Also, if I'd known it was based on the Charlaine Harris books, I probably wouldn't have checked it out. For some reason, I instinctively hate those books. In truth, I know jack shit about them, so I don't have any rational reason. I just saw them on the shelf and hated them. I'm enjoying the show (though wifezilla informs me there's a lot more sex & violence in the show than the books, so maybe my bookhate/showlove is well-advised... vamps and sex & violence go together like... uh... vamps and sex & violence).

So we'll see. I'm only two eps in. Liking it so far though.

Buffy. More vamps. The binge continues. Half way through season 3. Yay. Love this show. Should've given it a fair shake all those years ago when it was on TV. Who knew it didn't suck like the movie? Gonna have to get Angel when I finish this run.

Big Bang Theory. Love the show, but I'm bad at TV so I miss it all the time. Got seasons 1 and 2, so I can finally catch up on all the episodes I miss. I'm not Sheldon.

Castle. Cap'n Mal. Stana Katic. Yummy.

Stargate SG-1. Yeah, I'm a latecomer to the show. Saw a few episodes during the late, great Sci-fi Friday (why the hell did they dismantle that?) and discovered I really liked it. I got a late birthday card with a gift cert to my favorite used bookstore tucked inside. Promptly ran over to pick up some SG-1, found season 1, got distracted... and accidentally bought season 5. Sigh. At least I have plenty of other stuff to watch.

Tropic Thunder. I've had it from Netflix long enough to have set a new Taco record for sitting on my counter. And if you know me, you know how impressive that is. Almost watched it the other night. But we forgot.

Hot Fuzz. Nevar! (But only because it drives Coyote insane.)