…the blog’s going to look a little weird for the next couple of weeks as I retool it a bit. I’ll make sure it’s still readable.
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Author: Joey deVilla
From the “I’ve been meaning to post this for ages” file: when I went to Chicago for RailsConf, I had a free evening with which to catch up with my friends Dave and Rob, who live there. I’ve known Dave for nearly two years and met him through Wendy; I’ve known Rob since 1989 — it’ll be seventeen years this fall, Rob! — when I met him as a wet-behind-the-ears frosh at Crazy Go Nuts University. Both played roles in our wedding — Dave as a “bridesman” and Rob as a candle sponsor.
Dave pciked me up from the airport and took me to his neighbourhood, where we caught up with Rob and then engaged in that most venerable of rituals: drinking lots of beer. We spent most of our time at Resi’s Bierstube, where the beer selection was quite good and the nice bartender kept giving me Jagermeister-like shots in exchange for accordion music.
Here’s my favourite photo of the evening, a shot outside Grizzly’s Lodge where we had dinner:
Click the photo to see a larger version on Flickr.
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More About Those Japanese Doritos
(The links in this article are slightly racy, so be warned.)
In the comments for the entry titled Exciting New Doritos Flavour!, a commenter going by the name of “manfire” explains that these characters (in the right column of Japanese writing on the Doritos bag pictured to the right):
read as denki anma.
As “manfire” says and a little Googling confirms, “denki anma” translates roughly as “a crotch noogie done with the foot” and it seems to be popular in the strange world of porn from the Land of the Rising Tentacle.
Doing a search for the term “denki anma” is an act for the brave, as it will lead you to many disturbing sites with even more disturbing imagery. Here’s one of the tamer images I found; I find it oddly reminiscent of the customer service at the Bell Mobility store at the Eaton Centre:
I still have no idea what those Doritos taste like.
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Three Poems
Jason Kottke recently linked to a poem by Joan Murray about the old white-guy-voting-Republican demographic, titled We Old Dudes:
We old dudes. We
White shoes. We
Golf ball. We
Eat mall. We
Soak teeth. We
Palm Beach; We
Vote red. We
Soon dead.
…and I thought: Wait a minute. That sounds familiar. A little Googling for a half-remembered line of poetry from a high school English textbook got me the poem I wanted, Gwendolyn Brooks’ We Real Cool. It’s about pool-playing dropouts, often presumed to be black and from Chicago, like Brooks herself:
We real cool. We
Left school. We
Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We
Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We
Jazz June. We
Die soon.
…and then I thought that maybe Asian dudes like myself might be feeling a little bit left out, so I decided to compose this poem just for us — We Real Smart:
We real smart. We
Science, not art. We
Not on TV. We
Hack Ruby. We
Eat rice. We
Polite and nice. We
No fool. We
Soon rule.
(While writing the poem, I discovered that the English language doesn’t have enough rhymes for “black Honda Civic“.)
It all boils down to this picture, taken in New York in February 2000:
The full explanation is on my work blog, in which I cover possible job moves for programmers.
The deadline for requests for squshy cows has passed. I’m afraid that due to demand, I can’t fulfill any more requests, but keep in mind that this won’t be the last time we have such an offer!
Thanks to everyone who participated — your cows will be in the mail soon!
Due to the demand for squishy cows (see this entry), I have to impose a deadline. If you want me to send you a squishy cow free of charge, you must:
- Email me your mailing address before 12:00 a.m. Eastern (GMT – 4), Wednesday, July 12, 2006
- Promise to take a picture of the squishy cow in some interesting locale and post it online
Hurry up, because the clock is ticking!