We had snow recently for a brief period of time. Time enough to craft some snowmen and make some friends.

“And we’ll be best friends forever.”

Or, at least until the rain melts it in about 5 hours.

Hockey players are just like me and you. Except they’re rich, in better shape, and travel a lot more. Oh, and they’re better at hockey.

The NHL is getting pretty good at these promo videos, and I think this one is the best one of the lot. There’s another new one that… disturbs me.

ColdForged’s $1 Question of the Day

It’s been a while, but then again I haven’t been making any ad money . Anyway, here goes… first person to comment with the correct answer gets the cash in their Paypal account.

Who is pictured in the screen grab above? Click it for a larger version.

UPDATE: We have a winner! Javahead correctly identified Canucks goalie Roberto Luongo, Sabres goalie Ryan Miller and Stars goalie Marty Turco thereby earning his second buck.

I often try to perceive the world as Julia must, just so I can try to appreciate her frame of reference. She has to make every discovery herself. For all she knew, until she figured out otherwise, when we put her down at night we stood outside her door expectantly until morning. She is still under the impression that the sun sleeps at night. I could explain that the sun is a massive ball of fiery elements and that we here on our own rock ball spin around it while our rock ball spins which would necessitate a diversion into gravity and centripetal and centrifugal forces otherwise she might never sleep again for fear that she’d fly off our spinning rock into the dark aether. No, much easier for Mr. Sun to go have a slumber.

Similarly, my daughter has no idea what I do every day when I “go to work”. Indeed, the only tangible thing she relates to work-wise is working in the yard. This has been the case since she first started speaking, when frogs were ling-a-nings and every other animate object was a ga-ga, and when lawnmowers were no-nos. So, when Papa went to work I was “going to work with no-nos”. As a simplifying classification this worked dandy since it gets complex saying “Papa sits in front of a computer and types all kinds of strange letters in this language called C or C++ which gets converted via a process called compiling into executable files that actually execute on cell phones.” Naw, Papa is “going to work with no-nos.” All day long.

Recently Julia had occasion to visit me at work while Mama went for a haircut. I set her up at an empty desk in our office and she sat and cut some paper for a while — she has recently mastered the use of scissors and aches to display her considerable snipping talents whenever possible — and then started examining her environs carefully. Finally she gets up the nerve.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Juju?”

“Where is your no-no?”

ColdForged’s $1 Question of the Day

This one’s a bit tricky. First one with a winning answer in the comments gets the buck in their Paypal account.

Find one search term at Google where the #1 result points to one of my posts. No, you can’t look for ColdForged or my real name for those that know it.

The Democratic National Convention! Honestly, I haven’t witnessed this much verbal fellatio since… hmm, I can’t think of a comparable example. I actually think Gore is right, to be honest. I think we’ve got the beginnings of the end with global warming if we don’t do something drastic and do it now. But that doesn’t necessarily mean I need to see everyone in Hollywood kowtow in abject subservience to him. It was both nauseating and laughable and I really have to wonder how the whole thing came off to the red states. Do they broadcast the Oscars in red states?

Oh. Right. I live in a red state. Well that’s disheartening.

Just remember the remarkable words of Melissa Etheridge: we don’t live in red or blue states, we live in green states. Praise Gaea.

Yesterday I had a quick lunch at a Chick-Fil-A restaurant, reading my book and just relaxing and taking a break. A gentleman near me wasn’t relaxing. He was interviewing. It was the most depressing attack on dignity I think I’d ever heard.

I imagine among fast food joints there are worse jobs. I worked at McDonalds when I was 16 and it was a wonderful opportunity to learn important concepts like “graduating from college” and “never, ever working in the food service industry.” This fellow was older and had obviously done a lot in his life. He had military experience, had had many jobs. And yet here was this greasy, middle-aged Chick-Fil-A manager asking him weighty questions as he interviewed for a minimum wage job at a goddamned fast food joint.

“Who are your heroes and why?”

I tried hard not to pay attention. I really wanted to read my book but as automobile crashes tend to draw the eye, I simply couldn’t help trying to bend an ear to listen in. The interviewee was facing away from me so I couldn’t really hear all of his answers. He tried gamely to tell this jackass what he needed to hear to offer him a job slinging fries or working the cash register.

“When you’re getting ready for work, what kinds of things do you pay special attention to?”

Lacing my shoes? Assuring myself that my underwear is crisply starched? Determine whether to wax my ass?

“Tell me how you work with a team.”

I find teams are better when they leave me alone.

And, of course, they’re performing this interview out in the restaurant at a spare table. Not that there’s anything wrong with working there, quite honestly. There’s nothing shameful about it. But be realistic in your interviewing demands if you’re offering minimum wage work.