The Devils Wears Lame

I know I haven't blogged anything in a while. Let's see, I've been on travel for the last few weeks- first in Grand Rapids, and then this week is a dual-trip. Tuesday we had a meeting in Ft. Worth, and today we head to L.A. for a meeting Thursday. This is probably one of those things that sounds cool, but actually isn't. In any case, I haven't had much down time for the blogging.

One sort of typical thing was that the movie on the plane on the way here was The Devil Wears Prada. I was just going to read and sleep, but I thought "Hey, we'll give Amazon a chance here. maybe they do know their stuff." So I watched it.

And you know what? I did not like it. Not one bit. I'm not going to spoil it for you (and I say this ironically, because you can see a commercial for it, take a guess how the movie goes, and I would give you a 92% chance that you're exactly right) but it's your standard "good-person-works-for-horrible-yet-successful-person-and-must-chose-between-happiness-and-success-while-becoming-someone-you-hate story. Only this time, it's set against the world of fashion, with satchel-loads of designer references and cameos, all of which mean nothing to me.

Tangent! I hate fashion. As a rule, I hate any self-sustaining industry. We're led to believe that we must have new clothes all the time. Why do we need new clothes? Because the old ones are out of style. Why are they out of style? Because the fashion industry says so. So who do we buy the new clothes from? The FASHION INDUSTRY. The same people we bought the old clothes from, which they are now telling us are out of style! They've made a multi-billion dollar industry out of keeping people on their toes and never letting them be happy for more than one "season." Am I the only one who sees the vicious cycle? No matter what you buy now, in a few months they're going to tell you it's no good so you'll buy something else. I'm telling you, it is the world's biggest scam. The entire industry, nay, concept of fashion is one of those things that if it suddenly disappeared, in a year no one would remember why we cared about it in the first place. Like MTV. But I digress.

So the entirety of The Devil Wears Prada is spent watching poor Anne Hathaway's life be slowly destroyed by her awful boss, while she keeps putting up with it. It's actually a little heartbreaking to watch. All I could think the whole time was "For the love of God, quit!" Which, incidentally, is what all her friends in the movie keep saying (while she turns her back on them). I don't like watching movies that stress me out. I usually like to see a movie twice before passing judgement on it, but I can't imagine ever watching that again. It's tough to watch, not very funny, and you get the meagerest of payoffs at the end. I know people loved that movie, but I honestly can't see why.

Now again, I hate fashion and I have a Y chromosome, so I realize this movie was not for me. Hence I watched it on a plane. Okay, now I have to pack for flight #2 this week.

Chili Champ!

Every year my department (AIR 4.3.5 - Air Vehicle Engineering) holds a chili-cookoff somewhere near St. Patrick's day. This was my fourth year entering a chili, and here's a quick breakdown:

Year 1: I had never made chili before, so I pulled a recipe off the internet that looked interesting. It includes macaroni and corn, and receives no votes. As a side note, I was really hoping to capture "Rookie of the Year" honors. The only other rookie was going to bring in a green chili, and in the words of my coworker Rick, "Thinking outside the box is not rewarded in the Chili Cookoff." Unfortunately, another rookies enters at the last minute and steals the award! My buddy Mike tries to give me the nickname "Chili-mac." Luckily, it doesn't stick.

Year 2: Undiscouraged, I make my white-chicken chili that everyone loves, and finish third. No nicknames are issued, because Mikey likes it.

Year 3: I make my white-chicken chili that everyone loves, and finish second.

Year 4: Trying a different tack, I find a recipe for "Taco-Chili" on the internet. Results?
That's right, first place! And this year there were 11 entrants, so that's nothing to scoff at. Although, it's a somewhat hollow victory, because it wasn't my recipe. But hey, a win's a win! I actually got it from the Food Network website. I went with Paula Deen, because I figured if her chili was as good as her gooey cake (modified to be chocolate mint - a la Karen) I'd be set! Here's the recipe. All I really did differently was that I used canned beans instead of dried ones, and chicken broth instead of water (which I do in a lot of recipes). Oh, and ground turkey instead of ground beef, but that's a given. It actually wasn't very taco-y. Just chili-y. Maybe I'm just not a connoisseur.

So I shall proudly display my plaque in my cube, and enjoy my victory until next year when I try to defend my championship.

NASCAR? Sign Me Up!

This is not about the wedding- I'll get around to that when I have time. No, this is just a letter that Amazon sent me with some recommendations, based on other items that I have purchased. They are:

ESPN Ultimate Nascar: The 100 Defining Moments in Stock Car Racing History

Speed, Guts, and Glory: 100 Unforgettable Moments in NASCAR History

The Devil Wears Prada (Widescreen Edition)

If you know me, you probably know that I think NASCAR is one of the worst things to happen in the history of sports, if not mankind. Why would I need not one, but two books chronicling their 100 greatest moments? I think I purchased the ESPN 25th anniversary book from Amazon, but other than that, what makes them think I like NASCAR this much?

Furthermore, where did The Devil Wears Prada come from? What have I ever purchased that would indicate an interest in that? Shouldn't the combo of Meryl Streep and NASCAR alone have set off some sort of alarm, like with your credit card if you buy a walker in Sarasota and a snowboard in Denver in the same week?

Well done, Amazon. You truly know me.

The Right Mat

Michael's finally called to tell me that my actual mat order was in, so I made yet another trip over there to pick it up. And let me tell you, it looks fly. Now all I need is a picture for the extra 3.5"x5.5" hole that will tie the whole thing together. I'm thinking old school, to match the music that was apparently printed in 1913.

eBay has a wealth of old Purdue postcards, and I think I've whittled the field down to two. What do you think?

Choice #1: Aerial view

I like this shot, and it seems to be fairly close to the right time period. It has the old Heavilon Hall, which was torn down in 1956. It has Matthews (built in the 20s) but not Stone (built...I don't know, but it's old). Plus it has a nice old feel to it.

Choice #2: Ross-Ade Stadium

By definition, this is too new because Ross-Ade wasn't even built until 1924 (You can see the old stadium next to the Armory on this postcard). In fact, from the information here, this would seem to be from around the 1930s. But come on- it has the band doing the famous Floating Purdue! How can I resist that? Anyway, feel free to cast your vote.

One of the odd things about shopping online for antique postcards (because there are so many) is that most of them don't list the size. This forced me to write lots of sellers asking for more detail, and all the answers I got were a touch flippant, and included the phrase "regular size." Some of them said "4x6 - just like a regular postcard." Others said "It's a standard postcard - 3.5x5.5." At first I thought I was dumb for not knowing what a standard postcard is, but apparently people can't even agree on a standard. This leads us to today's tangent!

When I worked at McDonald's, we had three sizes of fries: Small, Large, and Super Size. What happened to medium? I don't know. But many, many people would stroll up to the counter and order medium french fries, forcing me to say "We have small, large, and super size." This would elicit one of two responses, but they were both delivered as though I was the biggest imbecile they had ever seen. They were:
"Then give me large!"
"Then give me small!"
To truly understand, you have to picture these statements with the accompanying eye roll, and implied "moron!" and the end. It was lose-lose. The official company directive was to give them large when they asked for medium, but after a handful of overly pissed-off customers I abandoned that plan. Also, lots of people would say regular for the size of anything (nuggets, drink, fries, whatever) but of course, regular means something different for everyone. Once a guy asked for a regular fry, and I said "Would you like small, large or super size?" He leaned in close over the counter, looked me dead in the eye, and said in a voice that was somewhere between stern and yelling "regular...means...SMALL!" I jumped back a few inches and said something like "Okay...y-you're the boss."

So there you go: next time you need to associate vintage postcards with fast food, I've got you covered.

In other news, tomorrow I'm off to Indy for Carly & Daniel's wedding. This should include all manner of standard wedding fun/tears but to make things more interesting, I'm bringing Erica along. At long last we'll get to see what happens when a quiet introvert wanders into a gathering of Rowdens and Burgesses. I appreciate her courage, because she's been warned. I can't wait!

The Deer Lover

Yesterday while running errands I ended up stopped at a light behind a giant pickup truck. This particular driver seemed to be quite the wilderness fan, because he had a few interesting accessories on his ride (and I can't believe I found them on the web- of course I found this earlier, so anything's possible). On his back window he had this:

Okay, sure. I guess this really taps into the "Nature is Beautiful" market, and some people like deer. I guess they're okay and all, but it's not something I would hang a painting of in my house, let alone adorn my car with. Of course, there was one year at State Fair (Band Day, of course) that my buddy Andrew and I ducked into the Pepsi Coliseum because it was the only air-conditioned building on the fairgrounds and it was hot as all h-e-double hockey sticks outside. I mention this because inside said coliseum was a livestock auction. Farm folk would parade around their cows or whatnot while the announcer would tell us what we were looking at. He would describe the animals the way car magazines sometimes describe a new model, by which I mean borderline sexual and definitely creepy. He said things like "You can just sense the raw power of the hind quarters, with a very developed, muscular torso" while Andrew and I shifted uncomfortably in our seats. The one statement that I can recite verbatim (as it was indelibly burned into my memory) was "Now this here is a beautiful steer. I could look at this steer all day." Keep in mind that he was dead serious. I digress, but the point is that some people love animals. On the other hand, after a few more vivid animal descriptions we decided that the air-conditioning wasn't really worth it.

So it was established that this guy likes deer. I figured him for a hunter, but maybe he was one of those guys who likes to hunt because it lets him get out into nature and fantasize about steer. Then, I noticed his trailer hitch cover:
Click the picture. You know you want to. That is the "Hitch Critters" light up, animated trailer hitch cover. When you apply the brake, the target (I $hit you not) lights up, and the deer frantically waves his arms in the don't shoot motion depicted here. All of this makes for quite and effect when combined with the look of sheer terror frozen in the deer's eyes.

This is a good time to mention that I don't have a problem with hunting. First and foremost, deer are wild cow. They meander about in the woods, eating grass and bark, and they fill their spot on the food chain. Hunting is really the only means we have of controlling the population, so as long as they stick within the limits, go for it. I don't see how anyone who eats meat can oppose (regulated) hunting. I think a lot of this has to do with the Bambi effect, by which I mean deer romanticized as something greater than say, a goat. My pastor in high school once made a point about how Hollywood influences people, by pointing out that hunting dropped dramatically after Bambi was released in theatres. I tend to believe that it was because the US had just entered World War II, but that's just me. Keep in mind that this is the same pastor who presented me with the watch theory.

What troubles me about this truck was the dichotomy it presented. It's like the window says "I like deer," and the hitch adds "by which I mean I like to shoot them." Like "This is where deer live, and this is where I insert the bullet." "This is how deer look frolicking in the woods, and this is what they look like begging for their lives." It's like the guy is at once trying to show that he loves nature's creatures, but also makes comical references to killing defenceless animals in cold blood.

Maybe the "Don't Shoot" deer was part of an anti-hunting statement, but somehow I doubt it.

Mat Skills

A few weeks ago I bought some ancient sheet music of Hail Purdue, and I want to frame it for my ridiculous Purdue room. But when it arrived, I could see that it was pulled from a book of school songs- so not only was it a weird size that I couldn't find a frame for, but Hail Purdue only covered a page and a half. The last half page is the Penn State Alma Mater. So, since there's no way I would hang a framed Penn State song in my house (not even in the bathroom) I needed to get a mat cut.

Now, my Dad has all sorts of mat-making supplies at his house, so it kills me to order them from Michael's, but that was sort of my only option. I placed my order, and a few days ago they called me to say that it was in (mat cutting is apparently so tricky it must be out sourced). It was to be 3 cuts: One whole page, one half page, and the remaining space would have a hole for a Purdue themed 3x5 to be named later.

So today during a hellacious errand session I stopped in to pick it up. They said "Name?" I replied "Marc Burgess." They handed me the mat wrapped up in some nice protective cardboard. Here's some foreshadowing for you: My brain yelled "Open it up and check it! Do it now!" But I thought, no, it looks like the right general size, it has my name on it, and I don't have the music with me to check it anyway. So away I went.

At home, I opened the package, aflutter with anticipation, and this is what was inside:

An 11x14 pink suede mat with a 1/2 inch square cutout in the center. Not exactly what I had in mind. Wondering how such a grandiose error could have happened, I re-examined the package. It clearly said "Customer: Marv Burgess." Ah hah. So the answer is that this is some one else's mat. I guess it was an honest enough mistake, being that the name is only one letter off, but this raises a bigger question: What exactly is Marv framing? A postage stamp? A bug on a pin like at the Smithsonian?

After a few minutes of cursing myself for not looking at it in the store, I set out to exchange it for the proper mat. Keep in mind that Michael's is on the other end of town, and it's a solid 20 minute drive. But it's Sunday, and I'd already worked out and went to Target. What else was I going to do?

I get back to the mat counter and wait for service. Here's a tangent: there's no bell or anything, so you just have to stand there at the counter until someone in the back framing area notices you. I guess you could clear your throat loudly or say "Hey" or something, but then you seem like an impatient jerk. When they happen to notice you in passing, you're always greeted the same way "Do you need something?" I say "Yes, I have a problem with a mat" when what I want to say is "No, I just like standing at a counter in the back of a crafts store." Anyway, back on track.

So the same girl that gave me the mat this morning comes out and asks what I need. I say "I picked this up this morning, but I think it's someone else's order." She asks "Did you look at it?" I say "Yes, and it has a different name and order number on the package." So opens it up and thoughtfully examines it, and asks "So what's wrong with it?" "Pretty much everything, from my perspective- It's the wrong size, wrong material and color, and the wrong cut. It is in fact someone else's mat that I was given by mistake" I replied, foolishly thinking I had made a bullet-proof argument. She thinks for a second too long and asks "So...you need a new cut in it?" This is one of many exchanges in Southern Maryland that make me wonder, am I speaking English? I mean, I can understand what she's saying. I said "No, this is the wrong mat order. I'd like you to take this and see if you have the mat I ordered in the back room. I'm not entirely sure what this mat could be used for." She once again looks it over and says in a slow manner "I...need to...ask someone a question" and flees to the back room. In a few minutes she returns to inform me of the only way this story could end- Marv has my mat. They need to call him and see if they can get mine back, or just order me a new one. They'll call me when they have it in. On the plus side, she did find out that Marv is making a clock with this, so that's one mystery down.

That was the worst part of horrible errand day, but the weekend still gets an A+. Erica came down on Friday, and I showed her season 1 of The Office, and she agreed that it was a fantastic show. That makes 2 television programs that we both watch, effectively doubling pop culture references I can make. We had dinner at a local Italian place and it was good times all around. Saturday I went with friends to a free sneak preview of 300, and to quote my buddy Liam, "It rocked so hard I almost had to cut my own head off." All in all, good times. And next time I'm checking the mat before I leave the store.

Cache-ing!

About two years ago I was talking to a friend about running, and I mentioned that I bought a jogging GPS. She started teasing me about how ridiculous it was, but I defended it's value (and I still do). She said "Oh, are you going to go geocaching now?" I asked "What's that?" She explained "It's this really stupid thing a guy I know does. You put co-ordinates into your GPS and go trudging to the woods to find stupid stuff other people have left there." I replied "That sounds awesome!"

I checked it all out, and even found a great site to locate caches, but never actually got around to trying it. That is, until Erica came down last Saturday for a visit. When she visits me it's kind of tricky to come up with something to do, but she suggested we go for a hike at one of the many parks down here. Which, I'm ashamed to admit, I'd never even visited. We ended up at the St. Mary's River Watershed Park, which is the one I have visited, as it was the site of my disastrous foray into mountain biking with some work buddies the first year I was here (I won't go into details- suffice to say it was the last time I've been mountain biking). In any case, the park was rife with Geocaches, so I loaded some into my GPS to hunt for along the way.

Saturday was beautiful, so it was the perfect conditions for a hike. We managed to locate the first cache- it was expertly hidden in a hollow log. The cache was a tupperware container filled with trinkets and log books, the idea being that you take a trinket, leave one, and sign the book. Well, we were fresh out of keychains and happy meal toys so we just signed the book. I mention this because it was the first time Erica has seen my kindergartner-like handwriting, and she didn't run away screaming, so that's a plus. I declined to blame it on my hand injury (as my Mom always suggested) or even make up a valiant reason for the injury itself (Mom suggests saying that I saved an infant from a burning car or something).

We failed to locate the second, albeit not for lack of trying. Only later did I look it up to realize that it was a "micro-cache." Instead of being a nice tupperware bin, apparently it's a mini-maglight housing with a rolled up log list inside. Had we known that, we might have had a chance, but it was way outside of our paradigm.

So, after batting 500 we decided to head for home. We rounded out the day by watching Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (which is always a fantastic film) and Bottle Rocket (which was new to me, and I really liked). Plus watching Bottle Rocket led to Erica's first use of a movie quote to express herself, which of course made my day. As it stands I'm constantly making Family Guy and The Office references that are totally lost on her.

My other favorite exchanges of the day:

(while walking through the woods and explaining my ideal housing location)
Me: See? This is where I want to live. In the middle of the woods with absolutely no other people around.
Erica: You sure talk a lot for someone who says he doesn't like people.

(while discussing my toast for Carly & Daniels wedding)
Me: So far all I've thought of is [no spoilers], but the rest should write itself.
Erica: Let's hope.

So sorry it took so long to get an actual update post. Have a great weekend everyone!