The definitive, all-encompassing list of bests and worsts of 2003. That should keep you busy for a while.

The Smoking Gun finds the best look-alike for Beavis I've EVER seen. Heh-heh-heh... (You be the judge)

I got my Christmas wish -- another season of crappy reality TV. This time, My Big Fat Obnoxious Fiance. Thanks Mr. Murdoch.

Weird but cool. If you've seen HBO's Taxicab Confessions, then check this out. A series of episodes where Rita the cabdriver picks up and chats with Steely Dan.

I'm having a pretty low-key New Year's Eve with just a few of my favorite things -- a pirate movie, Summit Winter Ale, and Pigs-in-a-blanket. Mmmmm.

Happy New Years!

Top 25 people most in need of ethnic cleansing.

The 10 dumbest quotes of 2003. "My vision is to make the most diverse state on earth, and we have people from every planet on the earth in this state. We have the sons and daughters of every, of people from every planet, of every country on earth." —Former California Gov. Gray Davis. Of course, the funny part is that he's absolutely right!

The 10 most overpaid jobs.

Two great tastes that taste great together. Chess + Boxing = Chess Boxing. I'd prefer something a little more sophisticated like Battleship Bloody Knuckles. You sank my battleship! [smack]

Two great tastes that taste great together (part 2). Caffeine + Doughnuts = Caffeine Doughnuts. Mmmm. Doughnuts.

"Yes, I'm the Playboy Playmate Mother Teresa of Haiti..."

Well, I hope everyone had a good Christmas. I dressed up as Santa's "special" Elf, Shecky. I haven't got my pictures ready, but my brother posted galleries of both Christmas Eve and Christmas day on his web site.

My niece and nephews are starting to look more and more like Dr. Seuss charactors -- Cindy Lou Who, Thing 1 and Thing 2, Sam I Am. I'm right, right?

So, a good Christmas all around.

Not so fortunate, however, was one of my neighbors. I woke up on the morning after Christmas, turned on the TV, and listened as the reporters were doing a story about a house fire in St. Paul. When they said the address, I was like... huh? That's where I live? It was just the next block over - right next to another house I almost bought several years ago. No one was hurt, thankfully, and one of the neighbors organized a little gift drive to help out the young family that was living there. So, a sad day for them but a little like Bedford Falls -- I'm sure the whole neighborhood pitched in a little to help out.

A little late with this one. A Christmas Poem by Dave Barry.

Here's a silly story on online technology making it easier for stalkers to find out where you live. "I was appalled and petrified as a single woman living in New York," Kenya said. She vows never again to give her phone number to potential suitors. Here's another safety tip: If you're really concerned about stalkers getting information on you -- don't let CNN publish your full name, a color photograph, your city of residence, and your age. Idiot.

Best headline of the day: German Firefighters Rescue Big-Haired 80's One Hit Wonder.

Good name for an indie rock band: Project Squirrel. Not everyone likes squirrels. A man wrote, "These little bastards are always jumping out at me when I walk by . . . and it scares the crap out of me and they have big claws."

And that's exactly why I like squirrels.

Merry Christmas/Hannukah/Kwanzaa/Festivus!

I'm truly in the spirit, since I just got back from Caribou Coffee with a large cup of Cafe Mocha (with 4 shots of espresso). There's not much that could get me out on this cold, dark Minnesota morning -- but chocolate + 4 shots of espresso. Dude!

So, for those of you "working" today, here's some fun time-wasters. It's my special holiday gift to you. Ho, ho, ho.

• Grandma got run over by a... oh, just watch the video.
• 'Tis the season... to kill teletubbies.
• Frosty vs. Rudolph.
• Slingshot Santa!
• 10 weird stories from 2003.
• This is actually pretty cool. Virtual Christmas Light tours using Quicktime. Of course, there's some ugly light displays as well.
• A good example of a typical Minnesota news headline.

So, that's it. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a 4-shot Cafe Mocha!

Two shopping days 'til Christmas. I finished up yesterday and got all the wrapping done, so I think I'm done. Whew!

• Hmmm. I think I might have a case here.
• Interview with Paul Westerberg in Uncut.
• Track list of an Air Supply Greatest Hits compilation in an alternate universe where the concept of "love" is expressed by the words partially hydrogenated corn syrup.
• You've heard of friendster. Now meet introvertster.
• Not on iTunes yet. Rats! I kind of like Bedtime Bongos -- Deep Note: Music of 1970's Adult Cinema.
• Shuffle the penguin. My high score is 16...

Had a very low-key Friday night last week, in sharp contrast to the previous week's. It was fun -- being Jim's birthday and all -- but we also had to educate the junior member of the tribe into some classic music. Luke, admittedly a well informed young lad, but much younger then the rest of us salty dogs -- didn't know who Supertramp was. Pity.

Now, I don't really like Supertramp, but... you should at least know who they are. Luke, check out Breakfast In America (my pick for their biggest album) and Crime of the Century (Jim's pick). I expect to have a full book report after Christmas break.

And you got that bloody well right...



As promised, here's some pictures from my retirement party.

I watched Bend It Like Beckham last night. Cute. But just a popcorn movie posing as an indie film, which is fine, I guess. It still beats most of the stuff out there. And, after seeing it, I did commit myself to having an Indian wedding if I ever get married. An Indian wedding with an Elvis impersonator, that is.

I'm also starting to get organized, and a bit more in tune with my current situation. Wednesday I went to get groceries after I realized I don't really 'eat' at home, especially not for lunch. And, this probably isn't surprising to anyone, but do you know who else goes grocery shopping at 2:00 on a Wednesday afternoon? Apparently, every octogenarian within twenty city blocks, that's who. The shopping part wasn't bad, but the infinite waiting... Oy. I was caught behind Whistler's mother for about 3 minutes as she tried to select the right jar of pickles.

And I start thinking, how long before I start taking that amount of time to select pickles?

So, time will tell. It's still too Christmassy to find a regular working groove, but I'll figure that out soon enough. Which reminds me, I still need to order my 2003 Minnesota State Fair collectible ornament.

Oh, and before the other stuff, I finally got the dreaded party pictures from last Friday. I'll post those next week.

• Walmart is getting into the online music business.
• Which is something to take note of, and don't give another crappy present.
• Qveere Eye for thye Medieval Man.

And since my last day at work coincided with Paul Magers last day, someone had the decency to make this loving tribute. Thanks.

Short list today...

Another sentimental Christmas with David Sedaris.

Mmm. Holographic lollipops. Psychadelicious.

Interesting. Word origins.

Funny map of the London tube.

Drinking responsibly during the holidays.

All right -- a good rock fight going. In one corner, Ryan Adams and in the other, Paul Westerberg. I guess it started with Paul's comments in Uncut magazine (in which both of his lastest 2 albums garnered a 5-star rating). "Last year, someone asked Paul Westerberg, the raw-voice laureate of pre-grunge teenage nihilism, what he thought of Ryan Adams... 'I see his f---in haircut,' Westerberg said, 'I hear his f---in whine, his fake clothes and then opens his f---in mouth and all I want to do is smash the f---ers teeth down his throat."

As fate would have it, Adams played First Ave. on Sunday night and apparently had a meltdown. "This is one of my worst shows ever, but I like it," he said defiantly near the end. By then, half of the sellout crowd had left. Of the ones who stayed, some were no doubt hoping Westerberg would show up and meet Adams' needs.

My money would be on Paul if they ever got into it.

2003 Goof awards announced.

The yuckiest miniature golf course in the west.

The longest line in the world. See if you can watch the whole thing...

Friday was a pretty amazing day. And night. First (and most importantly) -- I got oodles of presents from all my work friends, including a professional deep fryer so I can make these at home. How sweet. How did they ever know? Then, I got some silly putty, a yo-yo (with a CD to learn tricks with), other assorted toys, a bubble Pez dohickie, and a Bolo tie. You may not realize this, but these are all important necessities for the writing life. I hear Woody Allen has tons of silly putty.

I also got a DVD of Barton Fink -- a film (written by Minnesotans no less) about a guy with writer's block trying to finish a screenplay. Ominous. I guess that's what the yo-yo and toys and silly putty are for, you know, to fend off the writer's block. Shrug.

So, THAT was very touching. Lots of goodies, all appropriate. Hell, they even captured Saddam for me. How cool is that! Thanks George. But, I think my favorite thing was a series of vintage movie postcards where everyone had written a little message on the back of each one. Collectively, it was a great little send-off. It made me tear up (just a little) going through them yesterday, but I also had a hearty chuckle at more than a few. Maybe I'll share some of the funny bits. Anyway, nice touch. Well done.

Then lunch -- Sawatdee, of course. And after that it was a long afternoon of wrapping things up (literally) and by 4:00 we were seated downstairs at Rosen's for the official celebration. It was a long, full night. Or so I'm told. I really... can't remember much. But they said I had fun and I've got a bruise on my arm to prove it, and if I'm not mistaken, there's a picture somewhere out there with about 8 women holding me up in the air.

I was in good hands though. And I can say this: I have great friends. I'm damn lucky. It wasn't an accident that I had a great evening. It was planned out and I was as safe as a kitten. What a kitten would be doing at Bobino's, I have no idea, but I felt safe nonetheless. I was in good hands. Can't say that enough. Or can I?

I feel like I should be saying thank you a lot, because everyone was supportive and encouraging. And since I used to work for a software company, I'd just like to write a little BASIC program that expresses the way I felt on Friday.

10 PRINT "Thank you all, you wonderful, magnificent bastards!"
20 GOTO 10

Anyway, a great night...

So now, you may ask: What does one do on the first day of the rest of his life?

Why, one goes to Sawatdee for lunch. What else would one do?

The next chapter

Obligatory unsentimental comment: If anyone wants to join in on the festive triple witching hour bash (ergo -- Friday, my birthday, AND my last day of work), we'll be starting at 4:00pm Rosen's City Tavern. From there we'll probably wander up to Nordeast and finish the night at The Front.

Sigh. It's finally here. My last day. So many things to remember and as I've cleaned out my desk the memories have just been pouring back. Like, when I first started -- my 2nd week on the job -- they shipped me off to Amsterdam to do some training. I met Ed and Jan, and we drank so much Belgian ale my head hurts just thinking about it. Or the time Penny and I sneaked our way in the uber-exclusive Skybar out in Hollywood. Or when we partied backstage with The Calling down in Atlanta. Good times.

And, of course, then there's the almost daily lunch routine with Jung and whoever is craving Thai food that day at Sawatdee. And being so ridiculously predictable that the wait staff pretty much order for us (rice noodle soup, 3 stars, oyster and sriracha sauce, 4 lime wedges, spice rack, water with lemon, chopsticks, and anything else?) And the bazillion other things, too numerous to mention. I can say this, though. I've had fun. And I've worked with people I really like.

Well, except for those weird European guys, but we got rid of most of them a while ago.

And today it ends.

I'm excited and sad at the same time. Every day, for the past 7 years I've trudged through the same streets of the warehouse district to go to work, wearing a path into the sidewalk almost. It wasn't just work, but my second home. I'll miss that walk. Among the many other things.

But the walk to work each morning, from the parking garage, to the office, to grab a steaming hot cup of Starbucks each morning. That I'm going to miss. A lot.

So come with me... Let's take one last walk. Let's go to work for the last time and have our coffee. Let's pretend it's home. Let's let it be home, just one more time.

(music by Paul Westerberg -- please don't sue me)...

Last night I checked out the final 2-hour finale of Average Joe. Melana chose the model, and not the dweeb. Thank GOD! What a terrible show. Hmmm. Will she pick the hunky model with the abs of steel? Or, will it be horseface and can't talk without slurring his words?

Fortunately, Average Joe II is coming soon -- set in Hawaii. Can't wait.

Just dumb links today.

Philosophy games. Try taboo.

Fun. A snow globe.

Now this is holiday music -- Corn Dog Love! Featuring such classics as Turd in the Mail, My Heart Is In The Right Place (But My Head Is Up My Ass), and Mama's Big Behind.

What color is your parachute? Find out here:

you are lavender #E6E6FA

Your dominant hue is blue, making you a good friend who people love and trust. You're good in social situations and want to fit in. Just be careful not to compromise who you are to make them happy. Your saturation level is very low - you have better things to do than jump headfirst into every little project. You make sure your actions are going to really accomplish something before you start because you hate wasting energy making everyone else think you're working. Your outlook on life is bright. You see good things in situations where others may not be able to, and it frustrates you to see them get down on everything.

the spacefem.com html color quiz

Which Historical Lunatic Are You?

Dude, Interrupted

It's finally here. My last week. Friday's my last day at work.

Gulp.

I made a rather obscure announcements about 3 months ago when I first decided to do this, and I figured I'd have more to say about it as the day got closer. Well, now it's REALLY close and I'm still not sure what to say about it. After over 7 years of tenure with my current employer, and after 15 years of continuous employment, I'm handing in my pocket protector for a new life.

Okay, that's a bit dramatic. Not really a new life.

The life will still be the same, but what I do with it in my waking hours will be different. I'll be writing amongst other things. Over the past couple of years, I've taken a few courses in screenwriting, read some books and scripts, and I still get together every couple of weeks with a few writer friends for coffee and critique. So, in this next year, I plan put up and shut up. If I only had more time, I'm sure I'd be able to finish the great America screenplay. Pfft. Right! So, I'm putting myself on notice that I no longer have any legitimate excuses. I just need to do it. To finish a few screenplays, maybe some short stories, and in the process, hopefully find a path for myself.

The Dec. 12th resignation date was not coincidental. It also happens to be a milestone birthday for me. So, on that day -- this Friday -- I will take the plunge.

Yar!

So... the details about the new life are still up in the air. I have some part time work lined up (working from home), so I will have a subsidy for my grand experiment. And I'm not going to be writing 8 hours a day. I also have plans to get in touch with my inner Kato Kaelin. There's a pile of magazines stacked up (The Atlantic, The Believer, Zoetrope, McSweeney's) on my reading table. I've accumulated a bevy of unread books (And You Shall Know Our Velocity, Baudolino, Ignorance). As of this morning, I had 249 movies in my rental queue at Netflix. I have boxes and boxes of old slides that I got from my Dad -- everything from pictures from when I was a kid to pictures of Africa (where he taught in the 60's). I have to scan those in. And then HOUSE projects -- Oy, where do I start. And classes. I want to take some classes in filmmaking (not just writing). And then there's more photography that I'd like to get into. And, and, and...

So you see, I've been putting all of this stuff off for too long. Maybe it'll take a year or longer to catch up with everything that I've REALLY wanted to do.

I'm hoping that it will be longer.

Oops, I did it again. I went in last night for an eye exam ("But I'm not buying anything!"). Eyes are fine. Prescription hasn't really changed. And I still wound up getting a pair of Anne et Valentine specs ("Charlot" model). Equally cool is that this is the only pair of these glasses in the state. Specs Optical just got them in Tuesday and I'm the first to be sportin' a pair... Spiffy.

I love Google. Try this. Go to Google.com and search for "Miserable Failure" and then click on the "I'm feelin' lucky" button. Just in case it changes, here's the result.

Mullets of technology.

"But Keif..." Mick Jagger is getting knighted, and Keith Richards let's him have it. Richards said he doubted he would be offered an honour "because they know what I would've said... they knew I'd tell them where they could put it."

I like Keith best. Cough, cough, mumble, mumble, hacking laugh...

Nice shadow, Dick.

Sexy holiday boxer shorts. Still not as sexy as my cow-print State Fair boxers, though.

Make a flake.

Or, test your artistic skills with Mr. Picassohead.

Interesting article on the making of the iPod. What's on your iPod?

Song: What a Day (For a Night)
Album: Come Feel Me Tremble
Artist: Paul Westerberg






Nice one, Apple. You screwed up the track listings for Paul's CD. If you have iTunes loaded and you actually click on the first link, back-up one song and play "My Daydream", which is really "What a Day (For a Night)".

And finally, 10 things that make no sense.

The Pioneer Press covers the lead-pouring party (a little late fellas, I scooped ya). All my friends are mentioned except me. Damn you Pioneer Press!

According to Amazon.com, customer's who like Michael Jackson's Number Ones also recommend...

Somebody's just got to adopt this clever mutt. (Click the slide show).

Now these are football fans.

A Manchester United soccer fan donated cells so his brother could have a life-saving transplant -- on condition his sibling switched his support from arch rivals Manchester City.

My name? Bubba. Bubba Bubba. Bubba Bubba Bubba. Take that George Foreman.

I want to work at a Japanese ad agency. It must be very liberating.

And finally, an interview with Har Mar and good friend Karen O. of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Here's Uncle Brian holding Kurt -- almost as perfect as his uncle.



I'll post more pictures later once I have a chance to sort through them and get editorial approval. It seems not everyone is impressed by my paparazzi-style for candid photos. Of course, the chief concern comes from someone who married a guy that wears a Chief Turkey Officer apron and affectionately refers to his brother as whisk boy. Hmmph. And they're worried that I'm going to make them look odd?... I am but a mirror.

And speaking of unvarnished ego, check out Har Mar Superstar's ads for Vladivar Vodka. It's me in my pants talking about me. It's great.

For more on the fabulous Har Mar, take a visit to his photo page on his web site. I took the state fair photos here, here, and here.

Don't believe me? Well, I remember it just like it was yesterday.

Anyway, hope you had a happy Turkey Day.