Steeler's Wheels

I want to get a bike. There's a bike co-op close by here that I'm gonna check out, thanks to a tip from tomorrow's Interviewing With the Starz! subject, Mr. Christopher Lynn. We were discussing types of bikes and how certain bikes have been co-opted by social groups and how/if that affects bike-purchasing decisions.

See, I want a road bike. Like the kids in Breaking Away only I'll wear longer shorts. Those kinds of bikes. But see, those bikes, while they're slim and lightweight (which is helpful, as I'll be running up and down RTA station stairs with this slung over my shoulder), they have also been claimed by the skinny jean hipster set. You know, guys who look like this or this. Pretty d-baggy, right?

Now, I'm not saying that everyone who's into these sorts of bikes is a snobby indie troll. I know John Kendall, he of Modern Chef Pants fame, who I consider one of the cooler people I've met, is a big proponent of the fixed gear road bike. Plus, the aforementioned portability and the fact that they're dead sexy, and you can see my conundrum. So there's that. I just worry about being seen as a wannabee d-bagg, which - I'm sure we can all can agree - is infinitely worse than being a real-life d-bagg.

So, what are my other options? A beach cruiser? Yeah, great idea. Why don't I get a pompadour haircut and start listening to swing music, too?

Actually, I sort of like beach cruisers. The main guy in Sparrow rode around on one while wearing a smart linen suit. (Did I mention that I loved that movie? Cuz I did.) They're cool and retro and all that, but is that really the message I want to send out to the world? That I secretly pine for the "way things used to be"? That I bought into the collective Hollywood dreamwish of 50's-60's innocence: sock hops, drive-ins, malt shops, the Big Bopper and gee whiz and poodle skirts and Beaver Cleaver and be-bop-a-lula and all that packaged nostalgia bull that is all so much air and fantasy. The good old days were neither good nor all that old. Discuss. I may as well ride around on Fonzie. Or, uh, something like that.

Or how about a mountain bike? Oh yeah, okay. I'll just give up completely, then. Khaki shorts, Birkenstocks, maybe golf on the weekends and if I'm feeling frisky, jam me up some Michael Bolton on my Zune. That'd be swell. Maybe get one of those igloo looking things, cram my kids in there and drag it behind me to like Trader Joes or whatever for some tofu non-fat frozen yogurt bars or something. I mean, I already cruise around in a minivan, why not sell out to the suburban boogeyman wholesale?

Or, I could wind up on the other side of the mountain bike coin and buy some biking shorts (maybe a matching shirt!), a ridiculous looking helmet (why are they all so dumb-looking? We can put a man on the moon, but we can't make a bike helmet that doesn't look like something from the B-roll of Running Man?), those clamp shoe things and some Oakleys and totes shred up the trail, dude? Totally tubular. To the extreme!

See my dilemma here? Please, Internets. Help a brother out. Should I just look for a road bike, d-baggery be darned! or is there some burgeoning bicycular subculture a-brewin' that I can get in on the ground floor of? Maybe those old-timey bikes with the gigantic front wheel? I always wanted to grow a handlebar mustache and say "Bully!" all the time. Top hats are super! Lemme know.

Dude, Where's My Mixx?

For the last year, I've been making and posting at least one mixtape per month. It's been a really fun project and I hope you've enjoyed rocking them as much as I enjoy making them. But even if you don't enjoy them, I'm not going to stop. I am unstoppable. I am a Juggernaut of mixtapery. I do not know the meaning of the word "quit." Seriously. What does that mean? Isn't that like a blanket or something?

Anyway, as fun as it is to make a mixx, (and it is so much fun) it's doubly fun to hear one. It's like rummaging through peoples' music collections only you don't have to break into their houses while they're at work and then get arrested and then go to jail for B&E and then shanked in the yard all because you wondered if they were in to Kraftwerk. Mixtapery saves lives, people.

So, I like making mixxes and I like listening to the mixxes of others. How can I hear other peoples' mixxes without having to do a ton of work? I mean, I'm gonna continue to make them monthly, if only other people would do the same and then post them on their blog. If only I could, I dunno, challenge my readers, who are an hip and handsome lot, to make a mixx a month along with me.

Enter the Big Red Robot Monthly Mixtape Brigade: a loose conglomeration of people who like making mixxes on a regular basis. So yeah, I'm calling you out, issuing a challenge: make a mixx every month and post it to your blog. Don't worry about looking cool or hip or cultured or whatever. Just put some songs together and post the mix. I'll put together a tutorial on properly tagging your files and all that stuff if you're worried about it. If you're in, leave a comment, download the icon to the right and slap it in your sidebar with a link back to my blog. Once a month, I'll post a round-up post with links to all the mixes. It will be a party of immense proportions.

Even if you only do it every few months or even once, I for one would still love to hear it.

Say you will. Do it for the children. Who's in?

Mystical Mysticness!

I recently asked for you all to ask me "Yes" or "No" questions that would be answered by magical means. And now that one of you has actually asked a question, I can consult my magical device to divine an answer for you.

But first, you may ask "From whence do these answers come? What magical tome holds the answer to any question that can be answered either positively or negatively?" and to that I answer: it comes from This Old Box Of Comics. But more specifically, it comes from here:



The Original Ghost Rider Rides Again #4 of 5, a Ghost Rider reprint book published November 1991. It has magic powers. One time I had a headache and I held it up to my head and the pain disappeared. It holds every answer to every question in the history of the world. Because it is full of magic like a unicorn on drugs or something. For serious.

But I, as they say, digest.

Let's answer Chris' question, "What should I do?"



Oops! It looks like Ghost Rider is not too pleased that Chris' question cannot be answered by "Yes" or "No" and is threatening him with a beat-down of immense proportions.

Because Ghost Rider is a jerk like that.

I know, totally magic, right? What question will he answer next?! Only you can decide! Well, you and the magical forces that permeate the ether, but you know what I mean. Ask your question in the comments or you or someone close to you will get athlete's foot. It happened to a friend of mine' uncle's girlfriend. For serious. Spooky, right?

Make the Cowboy Robots Cry

I've been thinking a lot about the future. You know, jetpacks, silver unitards, teleportation rays. The usual. And one thought struck me so deeply that I just had to share.

See, it's pretty much a given that robots are going to take over some day in the not-too-distant future. Egghead-types call this the technological singularity. I call it "The Day We All Get Enslaved By Killer Appliances." Soon, our iPods will be shuffling us (get it?!) off to the charnel pits or shaving us bald to power their war machines or keeping us dumb and docile so they can feed us to the Morlocks. In any case, it isn't gonna be pretty, but it's inevitable.

It occurred to me that within the next thousand years (or less ... probably less), it's not unlikely that there will be a robot civilization not unlike ours: robot reality shows, robot door-to-door hot dog salesmen, robot hot dogs, robot politicians, robot news anchors (or are they ALREADY HERE!?!), robot game show hosts, robot haberdashers, robot chimney sweeps with thick cockney accents. Black robots, white robots, brown robots, yellow robots, purple robots. There will be robot baseball players, robot accountants, robot mechanics, robot popes (RoboPope? Did I just come up with the best idea ever?), robot astronauts and robot kung fu guys. Robots everywhere, bleeping and blooping forever.

Obviously, I thought about this a lot.

But then I started thinking about the less-fortunate robots? Those who have fallen on hard times or been phased out by technological progress or had their robot home repossessed by robot bankers or corrupt robot mortgage schemes? What about the robot hobos riding the supersonic bullet train rails from shining metropolis to shining metropolis to look for a little work and a can of robo-beans? What will they be called as they sit all sad and rusty, begging for spare power converters in the blazing chrome cities of the future? What would the other robots refer to them as?

"Hobots" sounds like either the robo-race of the main character of a tale told by JRR Robo-Tolkien ("Robo Baggins" maybe?) or, well, a "robot of the night", if you catch my drift (I mean a robot prostitute). "Robos" would probably be a catch-all term in a robot-led society like "people" or "dudes" or "schnauzer" is for us. "Rohos" sounds like some sort of robo-Spanish or what Robo Santa says when he's extra-jolly. "Robovagrant" is too clunky. Perhaps "Robohobos", or is that too clunky as well? "Robum" maybe? This is serious business people: What will the mendicant of the future be called? I have no clue and it's driving me crazy!

Aaaaaah!!!!!

Anyway, so long story short: Basically, the future sucks.

Like, uh, Stuff and Stuff...

* I had a pretty great Memorial Day weekend, all told. How was yours?

* Watched I'm Not There last night and loved it to bits. It's bold and messy and brilliant. The only story that I didn't cotton to was the more conventional biopic section starring Heath Ledger and Charlotte Gainsbourg, though even that was well put-together. I would love to watch two hours of the Billy the Kid/Riddle County/Basement Tapes story though. When the giraffe walks into the frame?! I gasped. Totally amazing. And Cate Blanchett, oh man, I loves her. It's a heckuva movie and highly recommended, though I would be interested what someone who isn't freaking named after the Man thought of it.

* I have nothing to read on the train tomorrow, as I finished up the second-to-last Invisibles trade I had tonight while Candace sewed. WTH?! What am I going to do?!

* We went out for our anniversary to La Dolce Vita in Cleveland's Little Italy over the weekend and had a lot of fun and delicious pasta. And this weird appetizer that Candace wanted to get but I didn't really like but it had prosciutto in it so I ate that. Prosciutto is yummy. Also got some pretty terrific cannolis at a bakery there. I love cannolis almost as much as I love my lady. And I love my lady like a lot.

* And I guess that's it. I know, exciting, right? Such is the life of a jet-setter like me...

Time Like A Rubber Band / Stretches Infinitely Until / Finally It Snaps

Dude. This has been the longest day ever in the history of my life. Anybody else?

Also, the title to this post is in haiku if you count "rubber" as one syllable. Which I do. Also also, it was entirely unintentional. I went back in and broke up the stanzas after the fact. I like haiku. Haiku rules! Five-seven-five, baby!

In fact, in honor of this unintentional haiku, I am, in my infinite power as King Of the Internets In My Own Mind (which is a much harder job than you would think and really just utterly thankless), declaring tomorrow, Friday, May 23rd, and every stinking Friday after that "Haiku Friday." There will be much celebrating.

So leave a haiku as a comment and I will publish them as a post tomorrow when we will also look at a movie trailer and decide if it's going to suck or not (speaking of which, has anybody seen Indy yet? I'm waiting until I'm in Vegas to see it so I can see it with my brothers, but I welcome any spoiler-free thoughts on it. I know Chris Haley saw it and liked it, but he likes Speed Racer and Geoff Johns, so his taste = suspect. I kid, I kid.). Anyway, I'm going home. Peace in the Middle East, home fries.

BRR Goes To the Movies - Destroy All Monsters!

Chris Haley, Big Red Robot blog buddy and Superman-lover extraordinare, posted the teaser poster for this movie a while back on his blog. I had mentioned that I was more than a little underwhelmed by the first Hellboy movie (though I freaking love Hellboy/B.P.R.D. comics to little itty bits). I thought the whole Liz Sherman/Hellboy love thing was unnecessary, the villains were not as interesting or scary as they should have been and the story was sort of weak. Also, David Hyde Peirce as the voice of Abe Sapien? Uh, yeah, about that... no thanks. Sorry, I have this bias against anyone related to Frasier. Yuck.

Still, a large portion of that movie was setting up the premise, which is my least favorite part of any comic book movie adaptation (which is why I was bored stiff through the first Spider-Man movie: his name is Spider-Man. He's a man. With spider powers. We get it. Move on.) and now that the concept of the B.P.R.D. as an elite paranormal defense team with Hellboy as their leader is established, it looks like we can have some fun.

We saw the trailer before Cloverfield (did I mention that Cloverfield was awesome? Everything Spielberg's War Of the Worlds tried to be but failed at?) and Candace - who sits through mediocre movies where Ron Perlman paints himself red and punches monsters in the jaw with a giant fake stone fist because she loves me and tolerates my love of the radness - even leaned over as it was wrapping up and said "It looks a lot better than the last one." So, yeah. That proves it. 9 out of 10 wives who don't really like comic book movies all that much thin that this "looks better than the first one."

Mr. Haley reported all-out monster-punching action as being a talking point by the producers and director Guillermo Del Toro (whose heightened profile after the success of Pan's Labyrinth - which I still want to see - lend this installment that much more weight), and if this film delivers it, I'm in.

I'd Rent It, at the very least. How about you?

The Lunatics Have Taken Over the Asylum

Why is there a Spice Girls reunion tour? What is wrong with our society where we would allow these evil Martian poo-beings to sully not one, but two decades of popular culture? Why aren't we marching in the streets to stop this abhorrent display of suck-tasticness?

And furthermore, who is going to these concerts? I mean, besides mental patients. "Normal" people have to be going to this and they can't all be going ironically, can they? I just don't get it. At all.

My brain hurts. I've got to go lay down or something. Is the room tilting?

Quality vs. Quantity

So I'm going to meet my goal of 365 posts for 2007. This much is obvious. I'm at 349 (after this post) and would just have to post every other day in December to blow it out of the water, not unlike the Lusitania. (Zing! WW1 joke, baby!)

This leaves me in the interesting position of reworking my posting schedule. See, with the threat of not hitting my (admittedly weird) personal goal of 365 posts in 365 days (which was initially intended as a joke, but turned really serious somewhere along the line... which reminds me of sunglasses*), I have relaxed a little, post-wise. Which isn't a bad thing, what with the preponderance of holidays cominatcha.

See, it's almost 2008, which means I really need to do some Christmas shopping. It also means that I need to think about how I'm gonna attack this blog in the coming year. And I don't mean nunchucks vs. bo staff. Though that would rock it to Russia, indeed.

Here are some things I'm considering for the BRR in the 08. Lemme know what you think with your juicy, delicious comments:

* Maintain a regular posting schedule. Whether it's something small daily-ish, a Monday-Wednesday-Friday type of thing (while still continuing with a POW! on the weekend and AOK! and ...Bedside Table updates on Sunday) or a juicy, meatier once-a-week post, I'd like to settle into a regular routine. I set up a poll in the sidebar to gather your feedback. Because I love democracy. Truly I am the Thomas Jefferson of the Internets, and not only because I have a thing for white wigs, pantaloons and the writings of John Locke. (You thought I was gonna make a joke about how TJ liked the sistahs, didn't you? Well, I didn't. This is a classy joint. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to make some jokes about animal excrement.)

* Longer pieces monthly. Whether it's a longer review, essay or a short story, I'd like to write longer pieces on a monthly basis. I don't know if it would be worth it to post it here or just link to a Google Docs/Group page as a downloadable pdf, as personally, I have a hard time reading a lot on screen and try - ofttimes unsuccessfully - to keep my paragraphs and posts short for screen reading.

* Monthly mixtape giveaways. Most likely on a first-come, first-served basis, although I'm open for suggestions. I'd make anywhere from one to five mixtapes and give 'em to the first commenters. Or should I draw names? Lemme know what you think.

*Finally, more pictures of kittens. And jokes about dinosaur genitalia. And Angelina Jolie's broad shoulders. And the fact that Barry Manilow looks a lot like what I would expect Death to look like.

Also, lots of parenthesis.

Basically, more of the same. Only sort of different. Better.

Now is your chance to make this blog better. Is there anything I'm not blogging about that I should be? Should BRR Goes To the Movies be a weekly/bi-weekly feature? Too much music criticism? Not enough? How about some esoteric art/design stuff? More comics? Less comics? Just enough comics? I'm thinking about posting a Weekly Random Comic Panel in the sidebar - what do you think? Are the Quotes For the Day posts worth it? As the "dad" on this roadtrip, I decide when we stop and we are not stopping once we get on the freeway. It's along way to Disneyland so you'd better get it all out now. Don't make me come back there. I will take my belt off.

Well, so much for being brief for on-screen reading. Until next time, Internets. Peace.

* The sunglasses involved were a pair of Elvis-esque glasses (see picture, above) that I bought on Venice Beach that ended up becoming my "real life" glasses after starting off as a goof. So, if you were driving around Vegas six to seven years ago and saw a pasty kid rocking out with giant fake gold Elvis glasses in a white pickup - that was me. I was that masked man.

Anyway, So I've Been Thinking

I've been thinking about New Year's Resolutions for some reason this week. Normally, I think they're a load of crap. Well-meaning crap, but crap nonetheless (you know, sort of like America's Most Wanted). Last year I had hoped to read an average of a book a month, which I pretty much did. I also had the goal of posting on this blog 365 times. It's looking like I'll hit (and hopefully exceed) that number. That I have accomplished these feats is excellent, as I have never accomplished a New Year's Resolution like, ever. Right, barely-started awesome comic book script? Right, showering at least once a week? Right, cure for cancer? Right?

So, anyway, I've been thinking, and this is my long list (some of which are fake, but I guess you'll have to figure out which ones) of possible New Year's Resolutions:

* Eat 125 tacos.

* Write something of a substantial length (essay, short story, review, etc.) every month.

* Have a monthly mixtape giveaway for the faithful blog readers/commenters.

* Learn to speak Elvish. No, not "Elvis." "Elvish." It's what elves speak. Why would I want to speak "Elvis"? That's just nerdy.

* Take public transportation whenever possible.

* Find some way to volunteer for that one politician I really admire but shall not name for fear of hate comments because for some reason once you start talking politics on the internets, some people (not you people, of course. You people are good, decent, level-headed people. I mean those other people. You know the ones. NASCAR types. Them.) just stop being civil and forget that other people might see things differently than they themselves do.

* Stay caffiene free, baby.

* Wear more sombreros.

* Ty not to get too excited about the new Star Trek movie, despite the fact it will most likely rock my socks clean off.

* Make my way through the 36 chambers of Shaolin Kung Fu and defeat the dark master that waits inside that final and deadly chamber.

* Resist the urge to grow a mustache, even as a joke.

* Purple.

* Pick up my sobbing guitar and play it every now & then.

* Continue with my Picture Of the Week (aka POW!). Finish off that roll of film still left in my Holga. Use the Lomo Quadshot more.

* Continue to rage against the machine. And by "machine" I mean "the evil that is the jelly donut."

* Think about maybe starting some sort of exercise thing. Because I am getting old.

* Play more video games. Seriously.

* Kill that darned Sasquatch once and for all.

Anyway, so that's the long list. Care to help me weed it down? I know, hard to pick, right? Well, if you want to help, comment below.

"Happy Birthday/Happy Birthday To Me"

Remember that Cracker song? The one where he talks about sleeping in his car "in the parking lot of the Showboat casino-hotel," which is no longer there? From their first album? Dang, that album was good. Yet another album I had on cassette that didn't make the leap to the digital world. Someday, someday - though I need to get Camper Van Beethoven's Key Lime Pie first. Priorities, folks.

Wait. Where was I? Oh yeah... 500th post. Momentous and whatnot.

I started this blog back in 2005 after starting and then abandoning a previous blog, NeRD, aka: Nerdblogger. I'm not going to say that I was there first, on the forefront of the blog trend but, well... I was. I am cooler than you. Sorry. It was supposed to be a chance for me to flex some atrophied journalistic muscles with serious reviews of art, film, music and comics (I had a manifesto and everything) but I packed it in after it crumbled under the weight of its own expectations.

A year or so later, I started this blog as a place to, as I told my friend Chris, "pimp stuff I love," as well as write the kind of stuff that makes me giggle. And here we are, 500 posts later and thankfully, not a lot has changed. I have a lot more readers (including you lurkers out there) than I did two years ago and I must admit, I'm glad you're out there. While an audience is not a necessity, it's always nice to know that the post you spent time on is being enjoyed.

So for you, dear reader, I handcrafted this little gem:

Unfortunately, like the last Highlander (cue Queen theme music) there can be only one, so you'll have to duke it out, cage-match-style. Also, you must promise to gloat about it once you receive it. Turn the internets green with teh envyz. That is all I ask. I am a simple man. Just comment on this post and you'll be entered in the drawing. See, easy? Let the duking begin.

So thanks for sticking with me for the last 500. Here's to the next 500. You can count on more of the usual: mummies, vampires, kung fu, Shatner, spaceships and M.O.D.O.K.; movies and music and books and art and comics and rants. Free stuff and shout-outs and Knight Rider and things that are awesomely awesome.

And robots. Lots and lots of robots.

This + 3 = D (Hail Caesar)

Okay, so check this out. After this here post, I will have posted a grand total of 497 times. Or, if you're all into Roman numerals that's CDXCVII. In three more posts I will be at 500, or, D. This is epic. Like unto Gilgamesh. Look it up. It's in a book or something.

I have no clue how I will celebrate this momentous occasion, but I will say this: it will be the stuff of legends. Aesop himself will rise from the grave and spin mad tales about this post that will also have some sort of moral. You know, for the kids. It will be the kind of legend that former civilizations built religions around like some guy turning into a swan or a bull and getting his freak on with a mortal lay-day. It will be like the legends of old where the one guy gets all lost in the maze and the minotaur tries to get him and he flies off but gets too close to the sun and falls onto an island and has to hide under a sheepskin from some blinded cyclops while sirens sing and meanwhile dudes are totally trying to lay the mack down on his old lady back home.

Or something like that.

Bottom line: it will be the nadir of my blog posting thus far. A veritable zenith, if you will. It will be fairly boss.

Or I will just post 500 pictures of M.O.D.O.K. Either way, everyone wins.

Seriously though, how should I celebrate? I thought about giving something away, but doesn't that seem a little... backward? It's like my blog birthday. You don't give presents on your birthday, you get presents, right? But who would give me presents? And what would I give people, anyway? Old socks? Cool stickers? A drawering of some sort? I thought about making a list of 500 things but man... that's a lot of things. I also thought of listing my top 500 posts, but... well that would be all of them, wouldn't it? Maybe 500 haikus? 500 words on why I think kung fu is teh radness? 500 reasons why Star Wars is better than Star Trek?

Do you see my dilemma? It is of ( wait for it ) immense proportions. So I pose the question to you, beloved internets: What would you like to see for my 500th post?

Sitting On the Fence Is Making My Butt Fall Asleep

I'm still trying to figure out if Yo Gabba Gabba! is awesome or not, but if I were judging based solely on the clips I've seem via YouTube, I'd be leaning towards "Awesome." Just watch this clip where Biz Markie (aka: An American Genius and A National Treasure) teaches kids one of life's more important lessons:

How to beatbox:

See where my confusion lies? I mean, ABC's, 123's, all that crap - kids will learn that stuff somewhere, eventually. But where, oh where will they learn beatboxing if not from television? It's not like the white man will let that get taught in his precious schools, so, where will we teach these kids the skills necessary to survive in today's fast-paced economy?

Is this not why Leonardo DaVinci invented the television in his secret diaries which also included instructions on how to make a robot gorilla army and how to hack an iPhone so you can use it on a wireless provider other than AT&T? (He also invented Tetris and had all the ideas for the television show, Dallas. Don't feel bad, I didn't know any of that either. Thank goodness for Wikipedia, right?)

This is my problem. It is of immense proportions.

What's So 'Fine' About Art?

Quick question: Do you think the other Great Lakes think that Lake Superior is conceited? Do you think that the non-Great Lakes think that the Great Lakes are conceited? Like they're some stuck-up clique of Lakes that roll their eyes whenever some Not-So-Great Lake tries to sit at their table at lunch?

Discuss below.

Also, totally unrelated, but I am no longer allowing anonymous posts. Sorry, but it seems that there's always somebody who has to poop in the pool and spoil the party. It's sad, really.

Also, this whole beard thing is heating up. It's been pretty close the whole time, with the "Yes" slightly edging out ahead. Imagine if it were something important we were voting for instead of whether or not I grow facial hair because I am too lazy to shave regularly. Something like, "Who has better legs, Dan Rather or Tom Brokaw." The suspense would be deadly, like unto a ninja.

Seriously though, back to the Lakes thing. What do you think? I have my theory, but I want to know what you think, Beloved Internets.

I So Want Some Caffeine Right Now

It's after lunch. I am sleepy. I need caffeine. I am trying to quit caffeine. I must be crazy. I really want a Coke right now. Badly. I can't drink it because I am trying to quit. I am sad and sleepy and want a Coke and I sort of have a headache because I am quitting caffeine. Every time I spell "quitting" I transpose the last two letters and end up with "quittign." That is not how you spell it. Also I just typed "spel" instead of "spell" and while this sounds correct when you say it out loud, it is not. I think I am misspelling so many words because I am sleepy. I still have three-and-a-half more hours until quitting time. How will I make it without caffeine?

This is my problem and it is of immense proportions.

My Car Looks Like A Zebra

We have a black car. A Pontiac Sunfire. It's a girl car. Candace bought if a little while after she graduated from high school. It has a sun sticker on the back window. It's got some years on it now, so it's not much to look at. The finish is coming off and it got rear-ended a few years back but never fixed. It's also paid for, so I don't mind driving it around even though I know that I lose Cool Points whenever I turn the key to start it.

In its prime, it ferried my lady around in style with a loud ghetto muffler. I could hear her coming from around the corner. No joke. Now, it ferries me to work with a held-on-with-a-bungee-cord muffler.

On Friday, I parked it under this giant tree to hopefully shade it over the hot, humid weekend.

I came out this morning and it was covered in bird poop.

Covered.

I don't know what people feed birds around here, but judging by the immensity and consistency of the droppings that now inhabit the exterior my car, it's a blend of Metamucil and Raisin Bran. And something purple. I'm not sure what that is, but it's all over my windshield. Maybe the raisins?

I have had three people in my office of six comment on the bird crap that now envelopes my car. Anyway, so now I have to wash my car... but I really don't want to. This is my dilemma. It is of immense proportions.

Please Explain...

At work, we have this intern. His name is Mark. He's a great guy. Hard worker. Good eye. For some reason, I always want to call him "Dave."

I have no idea why.

He doesn't look like a "Dave." I have never known a "Dave" that resembles him. But I can not resist the urge to refer to him as "Dave." So far, I haven't actually called him "Dave." But it's been close. Someday, it's bound to happen.

What is my problem? Has anyone had anything like this happen? If so, how did you solve this problem? Please help me cope with this difficult problem of immense proportions. Thank you.

"I Put the Wheels In Motion, A Time For Big Decisions"

There comes a time in a man's life when he's faced with a decision that just must be made. The lady or the tiger? Soup or salad? The orange tie or the orange-er tie?

Well, dear readers, I am faced with a similar, King Solomon-esque, decision of immense proportions: which version of the new Spoon album, Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga, to purchase?

There's the CD with a bonus disc featuring exclusive tracks or there's the super-sweet LP featuring a coupon that allows you to download mp3 tracks from the Merge site (including the bonus tracks) or I can wait and download it from eMusic OR I can just buy it from like Best Buy when it comes out.

Do you see my dillemma? It is of immense proportions! I am totally freaking out over here!