Halloween

If you don't understand my costume, check out Talladega Nights. In one of the best scenes, Cal explains that he likes to picture Jesus in a tuxedo t-shirt, because it says "I want to be formal, but I'm here to party." So when I saw the shirt for $8 at Steve & Barry's, the costume practically made itself. However, I think that even though the package clearly says "Jesus Wig and Beard Set," it looks more like Hagrid.

In a related story, my co-worker Dave's brother has quite a knack for pumpkin carving- check out his work from the last few years. Highly impressive! Of course, Dave's one of those guys that makes awesome pictures on an Etch-a-Sketch, so obscure art might be his family's thing. The way my family's thing is...um...yeah.

In a completely unrelated story, I was watching LA Ink last night. I used to love Miami Ink, because I liked hearing the stories about why people wanted their tattoo, watching the artist come up with art that worked for the person, then seeing the finished product. Like a documentary, you know? Of course these days they're doing their best to make it a crappy reality show- now half the show is the guys trying to open their own bar, or learning to surf. My question is, who cares about that crap? Anyway, LA Ink follows the same format, but last night it sunk to a new low. Sebastian Bach came in to get a tattoo, and he and Kat (the tattoo artist) had this exchange (quotes approximate):

Kat: So what Tattoo do you want?
Sebastian Bach: I'd like to get the cover art to my new album, "Angel Down."
K: Oh you have a new album? What's it like?
SB: Well, it officially hits stores November 20th, but I brought a copy if you want to check it out!
[They put on the CD, and Sebastian lip syncs to it while Kat tattoos him for about 15 seconds]
Kat (in confessional): Sebastian's new CD "Angel Down" was so amazing, I wanted to stop tattooing and just rock out!

At this point I turned off the TV, because it was that blatant. Prominently holding your Pepsi can is one thing, but such overt product placement, in which "real" people have such an obviously scripted conversation during what is supposed to be their normal day is such a turn off. But I guess companies are doing whatever they can when people are TiVoing shows and fast forwarding through all the commercials. That's what I do.

Anyway, Ramya's coming down tonight to help pass out candy, because apparently that's quite a novelty for DC apartment dwellers. Hopefully there will be more costumes and less rudeness than last year!

One Time, at Alumni Band

Last weekend I once again subjected myself to the two days of physical punishment known as "Alumni Band." I used to think that they only brought the gang back together once every two years because it just isn't practical for everyone to make the trip any more than that. Now I'm starting to think that two years is the perfect interval for everyone to remember how much fun it is, yet forget how sore they were when it's all said and done. I was sitting at my desk today thinking "Man! I am sore! It wasn't this bad last year" but a quick blog check of my Alumni Band post from two years ago seems to confirm that it was. I guess wearing the tenors must really work your back and shoulders, because my arm was shaking as I poured the milk on my cereal this morning.

Speaking of which, I once again ended up marching tenors (even though I'm a bass drummer at heart). The way Pam (Purdue's drum instructor) put it was "I need you on tenors," and how can I say no to that? What she means is that this year the alumni tenor line was me, Eric (who did pretty well this year but still doesn't know all the intricacies because he marched bass in college), and a guy named Chris who marched toms (not tenors, not quads- tri-toms) in the mid-1980s and didn't know any of the modern cadences or school song arrangements. So, even though everyone had the newest music, you need at least one guy who knows what's going on to hold it all together. And for once in my life, that guy was me.

As always, activities started with a music rehearsal on Friday night. It's amazing how many memories are triggered just by the smell of a room with 500 some bandos in it- you get that certain combination of brass, musty old music sheets, sweat, and God knows what that made the guy next to me say "Smells like band in here!" It puts you back in the mode. But whereas last year I felt like everything instantly came back to me, this year it was a little slower. I'm sure it's just 2 more years of rust, but I kept thinking "Wow, I used to be so much better than this!" During the rehearsal they gave out awards for things like "furthest traveled" (a tie between two members from Honolulu). When they asked for the oldest marcher, that was also a tie between two 80 year-olds- which prompted the room to start chanting "Fight! Fight! Fight!" I'll tell you what though- the one guy graduated in 1948, and I wouldn't have guessed him to be older than about 60. If I look that good and am still marching around in 2058, I'll be doing alright. No way I'll be on tenors though.

Saturday began as any good band day does- we met at the hall at 6:45 a.m. to make our way to the practice field for the marching rehearsal. This is when things got a little dicey: it was pouring rain all Friday, and Saturday morning the skies looked menacing. Since the weather channel called for rain all day, I opted not to lug my camera around. And moreso, the practice field was a giant mud pit. Granted, the alumni band isn't expected to replicate the quick turns and crisp movements of today's whipper-snappers, but I saw several people bite it just marching around. I personally stayed clean (even wearing the 75-pound drums) but I was fairly certain we were going to see a broken hip by the end of the day! Thankfully, there were no casualties.This is a good time to mention that there was an alum there who takes lots of pictures and posts them to PurdueBandFan.com (be warned- it's one of thoase annoying webpages that blasts music at you). As I write this, he doesn't have all the pictures up yet, but you can see me in this one (watching the conductor like a good drummer), Eric's all burry in this one, and this gives you a good feel for the weather that morning. Keep checking back for more! I'm glad I can steal action pics from him since I didn't get any.

The game was the same barrel of laughs I remember- the drum cheers, the school songs, the crazy hijinks. And hey, Purdue even won! I forgot what it was like to be right on the field in the endzone during a game. It's a mixed bag- when the action is in the close endzone you can hear the hits, and see exactly what the players are seeing. When they're on the other side, you have to turn around and watch the jumbotron to know what's going on. During the halftime show the current band formed the famous Block P, and the alumni band joined in to form the biggest Block P ever. I'm a big enough dork that I thought that was cool, but not big enough to know it was in commemoration of the 100-year anniversary of the Block P (which was, of course, the first marching band formation). I hope to get a good picture of that sometime, because we are all witnesses to history, people. Of course, as soon as the game was over the clouds parted and the sun was shining bright.

Sunday was an absolutely beautiful day, so Eric and I decided to walk around and check out some new campus additions, as well as some old favorites. This weekend was also the grand opening of the new Neil Armstrong Hall of Engineering. I mean, we never thought the ME building was all that great, but this place really puts it to shame. The man himself was even on hand for the ceremony, as were 15 other Purdue astronauts. Armstrong also attended the football game, and gave a pep talk on the jumbotron that he clearly should've practiced saying out loud first. But let's face it, he could've said "How about that war on terror!" and still received thunderous applause. He's Neil freaking Armstrong.

We also got to visit another giant of our time, the Boilermaker statue that was unveiled last year. I give it a thumbs up- it's a much more realistic representation than you usually see with Purdue Pete, and gives a little credence to our nickname. I wanted Eric to take some pictures of me sitting on the anvil, but he was pretty sure the police were already after us for climbing all over young Neil Armstrong. Plus, it was really high up there. Don't be fooled by the picture- remember: Eric's like eight feet tall.

Sunday was also our chance to embark on the mother of all Purdue schwag hunts, and believe me, I seized the day. I was almost paralyzed by all the choices, but I came away with a couple great hats, several excellent t-shirts, and a zip-up hoodie (which I understand all the kids are wearing these days). It was an excellent weekend, and I returned to work Monday dead-tired and in need of a vacation.

By the way, more pictures here.

Howard James Burgess, 1922-2007

My grandfather, Howard J. Burgess Sr., passed away on Sunday, October 14. It's never easy, and I'll miss Grandpa, but I can comfortably say that it was his time. We've been on watch for a while, but you're never quite ready, you know?

I'm not very good at this sort of thing, so I'm going to borrow a few items from the words of remembrance that my Dad and aunt Karen said at his service. Karen noted that having Grandkids seemed to soften him up a little- back in the day she got in a fender-bender, and called to tell him that she was in an accident and would be running late. Grandpa sighed and asked "Well, how bad's the car?" Karen thought "Well, first of all I'm fine thank you, and it's my car, I paid for it, and I'll pay for the repairs, so why are you concerned with it?" Years later when my brother was in an accident his first question was "Is Jamie okay?" My Dad noted that Grandpa was well read and had a constant thirst for knowledge, and he always pushed his kids in that direction. Even though he wasn't able to go to college, there was never a question that his kids would. Dad said that thinking of Grandpa reminded him of Newton's quote: "If I have seen further, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants."

Grandpa had quite a career (encompasing more jobs than I could ever remember) that included being the Lear-Sigler salesman of the year, as well as president of the Norgas company. He also served in the Navy during World War II. Since the man could type 80 words per minute, his time was mostly spent in offices- he would say proudly (and perhaps a little sarcastically) that he fought the war with his typewriter. As such, his funeral included a formal flag presentation and 3-volley salute. Personally, I lost it during the playing of taps.

I'll always remember Grandpa as just that- my Grandpa. Roasting chicken out on the grill for sunday dinners, orchestrating family vacations all over America, coming to watch me march with the band in high school and college, etc. He was always supportive, treasured spending time with us, and we knew we were loved.

I'll switch gears a little, and present the odds and ends from an unexpected week back home with the family:

I was thoroughly unprepared when I got there, clothing wise. This resulted in an emergency trip to Jos A. Bank (where they know Dad by name) and the first suit of my adult life. Carly and Daniel (knowing that I have no style) came with us to pick everything out. As the tailor guy was doing the fitting, Dad explained that I've made it this far in life without real dress clothes because I'm an engineer. He indicated Daniel and added "Yes, the same with my son-in-law- both mechanical engineers." The tailor said "Really? That's quite a coincedence." I said "Well actually, we were friends and roomates in college. That's how they met" (we all know I like to take credit). The guy says "Really!?" in a very surprised tone, and then added "So young..." before changing topics to something else about the suit. I never got to ask him, but what in the world did "so young" mean?

Speaking of which, when I came out dressed in the suit Carly said "Wow, you look like an adult!" I actually did get several compliments on it, and several people said I looked too skinny- which strengthens my belief that I either have body dysmorphia or I'm just used to being skinny at this point.

It was nice to see so many friends and family all at once, and it's sad to know you only really ever get to do that at a funeral. Several of Karen's teacher friends were able to come, and they invariably opened with "I've heard so much about you!" and I always believe it. Between Dad and Jeanie there were a bunch of medical types there. I spent most of the viewing standing with Carly & Daniel, and Howard & Jasmine. People would come over and say "Howard, what are you doing these days?" He'd answer "I'm working in the lab at Sparrow." They'd say "Oh, what kind of work?" "I work on micro-blah blah medical word blah blah" and they'd nod and agree. When they moved on to Carly, she'd say "I'm doing my residency in Connecticut." "Oh! Where are you? Which hospital? How do you feel about the recent overprescribing of blah blah priapism blah blah" and they'd go on like that for a while. When it was my turn I'd say "I'm an engineer, and I work for the Navy in Maryland, about an hour south of Washington, D.C." They'd say "Oh.... So Carly, have you chosen your specialty yet?" I'm told that my error was not specifying that I work on fighter aircraft. Of course, a couple people wanted to know my take on that total garbage Time article about the V-22, so that gave me something to talk about.

Everything was wrapped up by Thursday, but since it was an off Friday I saw no reason to rush back. That let me stay until Jeanie's retirement luncheon, at which I got to see my Step-sister's kids (who I usually only see at Christmas- which is probably why when I walked in Austin said "Hey, it's that guy.") At one point Emily asked "How old are you?" I said "Twenty-eight." She replied "You don't act like it." I've decided to take this as a compliment. It's not like her being 16 doesn't make me feel old enough already, since I remember her as an infant. Actually, my older niece Lauren had a baby earlier this year, meaning someone that I distinctly remember being born has given birth. Ugh. I am old.

All in all, it was a fairly exhuasting week, but it was nice to see my family (even given the circumstances). This weekend I'm off to Purdue for homecoming weekend, and I am once again marching with the alumni band. Last time I got a lesson in the casual nature of the event, so this year I'm not going to worry about whether or not my shoes are shined to perfection (old habits die hard, you know). Plus, and this will be a first, I will be marching with facial hair (gasp!)! That may not sound like much to the layperson, but it was strictly verboden my whole life. Pictures to come.

Good vs Evil

It was an all-around great football weekend, with Purdue thumping Iowa (which I was able to hear in the car, courtesy of XM), the Colts taking out the Jaguars (as Ramya said "Poor Jacksonville- they have so little else going for them"), and of course, Notre Dame's continuing humiliation.

But earlier today at lunch, we were discussing how golden boy Tom Brady is on pace to shatter my boy Payton Manning's single-season touchdown record. I commented that while in 2005 Payton was throwing a ridiculous number of touchdowns because the defense stunk and the Colts needed 48 points to win games, this year the Patriots are mercilessly running up the score an crappy teams. Dana (who is a Pats fan by marriage) continued to defend them, but I know what I've seen.
Then, look what the lead story on ESPN.com was: Good vs. Evil, which opens with the tagline: "Patriots at Colts has a powerful, compelling narrative. Namely -- Good vs. Evil. The fact that I don't even need to tell you which team represents Good and which stands for Evil says a lot about how low New England has sunk." So there- I'm not the only one who's noticed. I was as much of a Pats fan as anyone back in the day, when they were the scrappy band of good-guy unknowns, but the fact is that after years of constant praise and string of championships, they've become just another arrogant juggernaut. Don't get me wrong, if the roles were flipped and the Colts won a string of Superbowls and became big jerks, I'd defend them just like Pats fans are doing now. But for the time being, I'm tired of New England's attitude.

Seriously though, check out the column. As usual, he discusses several other topics, including college athlete graduation rates (this report seems to indicate that Purdue athletes are more likely to graduate than the average student- though the football team's rate is pretty sad) and the way movies have dangerous objects exclusively for the purpose of staging a fight scene (like the magic gate of death in Harry Potter (which I, immediately after reading, proclaimed to be the dumbest death scene ever because the stupid gate had no possible purpose) or the office tank of sharks in Dr. No).

Free My Phone!

I've been saying for years that the way we do cell phones in this country is ridiculous, but this column articulates it a little better than I do. Seriously- cell phone companies are awful, and the only reason they get away with it is that they're all bad, and they always have been so people don't seem to notice.

Since we're on the topic, I'm going to warn everyone about a little something I like to call the "Verizon Fundraiser." My cell phone bill is like $45 a month. I never go over my minutes, so it's just $45, $45, etc. Well, one month I opened it up and it was like $100. Shocked, I scanned the call list and quickly discovered that they were charging me for calls to other Verizon users, which is supposed to be free. I called customer service, and they offered up a very heartfelt "Sorry, our bad" and erased the charges. No damage done other than wasting five minutes of my evening, right? But what if I signed up for that automatic bill pay they're always pushing me to use? "It's so easy" they say. "Never even have to look at your phone bill!" Well, then that extra fifty bucks would've flown right out of my bank account without me ever noticing. I've told several people about this, and I've found four or five other Verizon customers that have had the exact same experience. So- innocent mistake, or nefarious plot to squeeze even more money out of their customers? You decide.

[narrows eyes] Verizon. Hmpf.

Hi. I'm in Delaware.

Today I returned home from a business trip to Delaware, which means that after a solid 28 years without ever visiting the First State I have now been there twice in one month. Alas, there were no gay beaches to be visited this time- I was there to meet with ILC Dover about a pressure seal for one of my programs. Here's what I knew about the company before I got there this morning: they make pressure seals. I quickly found out that they make quite a lot more, and do you know what their bread and butter is? Making spaces suits for NASA!

Since our meeting finished up around lunchtime, a couple of the employees asked up if we'd like a tour of their facility, and you'd better believe I did. The first stop was the ILC Museum where they kept several space-type items- historical space suit pieces, autographed astronaut pictures, exhibits showing the suit's composition, etc. Apparently they have a lot of pieces that they loan to various museums and they keep them here between trips. For instance, John Young's suit had just returned from a museum in New Zealand.

The ILC museum was pretty nifty in itself, but the next stop was the space suit test lab. Now, I go to a lot of museums, so I've seen actual space suits before. But this was the first time I've been allowed to walk right up to them and twist knobs, move them around, and take pieces apart. Well, maybe not so much "allowed to" as "not stopped from." They had an old Apollo era suit in one corner, and a couple of the newest models set up for testing. While I didn't get to put on a suit or anything (that probably would've been pushing it), I did get to mess with them. My main impression? They are heavy. Apparently they weigh over 200 pounds, and that's without life support. In fact, since it's so hard to stand around in them (they are designed for zero gravity) they actually hang testers from a winch in the ceiling during evaluations. The lucky souls are suspended in front of this panel of hardware that's loaded with various knobs, screws, levers and whatnot to try to replicate whatever they may encounter during spacewalks. It ends up looking like the adult version of those baby play things that you lay kids under with all the lights and rattles. In any case, it seems that a lot of the weight comes from the bearings at every point of articulation, of which there are many. Plus, there's a lot of attachment hardware- I understand that the biggest difference between the space race suits and the new models is that the current ones are very modular. Whereas the Apollo suits were completely custom made for each astronaut, now they just make 5 or 6 different sizes of everything and piece together a good fit. The only thing that's still custom is the gloves, and I'll get to that in a minute.

Being that the suits were custom, all astronauts used to travel to the Dover facility to get sized/fitted. I guess while they were there it was customary to walk around the building and shake hands with the employees- hence alot of the older guys have their pictures with guys like Neil Armstrong or Eugene Cernan. This was either a nice goodwill gesture by the astronauts, or they wanted to make sure the regular joes protecting them from the cold vacuum of space were personally invested in the quality of their work. Anyway, now they just measure hands for custom gloves. Apparently they tried to make due with 9 standard sizes, but it didn't prove to be sufficient- one of the guys said that Jerry Ross had "hands like a bear." So now they size them all with some special hand scanner that's so accurate it even shows the hair. We actually got to go into the glove lab while workers were stitching away. They let me (I did ask first) try on an in-process glove, and it fit (dare I say) like a glove, which is apparently pretty rare for something so custom. The name wasn't on them yet, but they were for Astronaut 6GH, whoever that is. It seems I have the hands of an astronaut, if nothing else.

Believe it or not, they said they frequently get calls from people who want to buy their own Space Suit, or a child-sized one for their kid's birthday- which they don't really do, because these things cost millions of dollars. However, since people are willing to pay ungodly sums to get N*SYNC or Peyton Manning* to come to little princess's super sweet 16, I think anything's possible. The other neat thing they had in another lab was a Russian cosmonaut suit, which they were studying to see what they could learn from the other perspective. Evidently the Russian suits are a lot lighter and more compact, mostly because they are designed with a much lower safety factor- it seems that they value speed and value over personal safety, which also presents itself in their aircraft design. And where did ILC Dover get a Russian space suit? From- and I kid you not- eBay.

The other fun product that they make in Dover is LTA, or Lighter Than Air aircraft. Blimps. Big ones. They had a huge hanger-like area where several people pieced together giant hunks of various polymers to form all manner of airships, from the unmanned surveillance aerostats the Army is using in Iraq and Afghanistan to the commercial airships you see at football games. In fact, other than the Goodyear blimps (which are made by, well, Goodyear) ILC makes every other modern blimp you can think of (or at least the blimp part). That includes the Metlife Snoopy Blimps, the Budweiser Blimp, and my new personal favorite, Bloomin' Onion I.

All in all, what appeared to be an ordinary day of meetings turned out to be surprisingly amusing (and educational). I'll close with a quote one of the guys relayed from the company president when talking about the space suit boots (which they made). He said "Every time I see one of those glorious pictures of the footprints on the moon, I think 'why didn't we put the company logo on there?'" I guess it's better as is, because something like this could've really cheapened the whole thing.

* I make that reference because Ramya knows someone who had Peyton Manning at her sweet 16 party. But, as I told her, all the money he gets from appearances goes to his charity. Also, Cedric the Entertainer was there.

Moral Authority Offender #4754

I don't know if I've ever been more proud of what this blog has accomplished. Do you remember a few months ago when I mentioned the Net Moral Authority? Well, you are now perusing offender #4754!

That's right, this blog can now be mentioned alongside such esteemed company as MonkeyPedia, BarackObama.com, eatpoo, Discovery Kids, and Daily Kitten. You can find it nestled comfortably between other dregs of the internet like the Atlanta Journal and Constitution and the CIA. One away from the Build-A-Bear Workshop. Honestly, do they even check these sites before they "block" them?

So all in all I was "cited" for:

• Pornographic material
• Hateful material
• Blasphemy
• Offensive political material
• Bestiality and/or interracial relationships

I'm guilty (and proud) of the interracial relationship, but what about the other stuff? Porn? Offensive political material? Get real!

But my favorite part is that within their database, preserved for all time, the snapshot of this offensive website is a picture of Carly and Daniel. I can't wait for the time when they walk into a Denny's or something and the hostess sees them, pauses, then narrows her eyes and says "We don't serve your kind here. Get your blasphemous keesters over to IHOP!"

In other news, Purdue was flat-out embarrassed on national television by Ohio State. And not in a "Ohio State's so good we looked bad" kind of way, Purdue just stunk. But, if we're going to get beat by anyone, I want it to be OSU because they're the Big 10's best hope this season (I did love the total moot-point touchdown at the end, though!). At least the Colts pulled out an injury ridden victory, because the Notre Dame victory makes this weekend only 1 for 3. Oh well, can't win them all!

Karaoke Magic

Here's the paradox about blogging: When I have time to write, nothing's going on. When I'm doing fun stuff that people want to know about, I'm too busy to sit in front of the computer waxing poetic about football and GI Joes. It's a vicious cycle. That said, who wants to hear a story about Karaoke on Ramya's birthday from two weeks ago?Apparently, there are a couple of pretty choice Karaoke bars in the DC metro area, and there's this one too. Not that it wasn't without it's charm, but whereas some places have a nice stage in a corner of the bar, this was a TV in the attic/overflow seating of a Chinese restaurant. No matter! We were there to sing and party, and sing and party we did.

The music catalog was interesting. The goal was to have an 80's night, so the fact that Ironic was the most recent song didn't faze us for a second. The fact that half the catalog was in Chinese was a surprise. Some of them had English titles as well (the group's favorite seemed to be "I Want to Pet My Little Pussy"), but were all in Chinese when they were cued up. Which is really a shame, because that probably would've brought the house down. Sadly, there was no Wild Challenger.

I know what you're wondering: "What did you sing?" And the answer is, what didn't I sing? When the genre was the 1980s, I found it pretty hard to stay away from the mic. The first picture is Ramya and me belting out Against all Odds, which was a bit of a disappointment. I understand that in some karaoke places, the music sounds just like the original song, only without the words (by which I mean real instruments). These were more of the "crappy webpage background midi" variety. I feel that this helps the audience focus on the vocalist, but things didn't always seem right- sometimes I swear the song was in the wrong key. Also, the words weren't always right. They read a little like stereo instructions- you know how you can go to Bablefish and translate English to Japanese, then back to English, and the meaning is kind of still intact but the words aren't right? Well, that's how a lot of the lyrics were. Take the song that I was dying to sing: St. Elmo's Fire. My favorite line is "You broke the boy in me, but you won't break the man." When we got to that part, it wasn't right. It was something like "Those broke my boy, but the person is not broken."

It was a good night. Ramya and I teamed up for several songs, including You're the Inspiration. Then we joined Claire and Fernando to sing...are you ready...Fernando. It was too perfect an opportunity to let it pass! Ramya and her friend Kavel laid it all on the line with a stirring rendition of The Greatest Love of All- and if they had added I am Woman, Hear Me Roar they could've hit mom's two favorites. I even found another kindred spirit in Ramya's friend Dave, and we did a handful of duets including Eye of the Tiger, and other 80's rockers that I don't remember right now. I probably should've done this earlier. I do remember that we wrapped up the evening with We Are the World (which was surprisingly hard to sing) and Turning Japanese (at which the waiter rolled his eyes- and when you see the words written out really does seem to be about...well...you know).

A good time was had by all, as evidenced by the fact that I stayed out until 2:00 am. Not only is this in itself unheard of, but I had just gotten back from England so that was like 7:00 am to me. I swear I was falling asleep standing up in the metro station on the way home! Plus my voice was totally gone by the third song. I guess I thought that a lifetime of singing in the car would have prepared me for this, but it takes a lot out of you to sing out loud so that others can hear. I will now conclude with this awesome picture Claire took: