The keys to my happiness
March 31, 2011
This is going to be one of those really interesting entries because, although this looks like a boring picture of my keys by my front door, upon closer inspection you will realize that yet again we combine two of my great loves—rabbits and beer. That’s exciting, right?
I’ve had both of the key holders forever, though I installed the upper one only this past weekend after having lived in my current home for five and a half years. I bought the bottom one as naked wood at some place like Jo Ann Fabrics or Michaels and painted it with stain I had left from the rickety dorm room loft I built out of 2 x 4s and nuts and bolts but no fancy joints. Thinking back on it, it’s a wonder I’m alive to tell the tale. The color was the closest to black I could get. It was the 80s, after all.
The top key holder probably came from Lyndale Garden Center (no longer in business), and in your own shopping adventures you’ve probably more likely come across the cat version, where the hooks are the cats’ tails. Of course for the rabbits, they’re just hooks and I had had it up for decoration in my old place. In my current place, an 18-unit condominium, I have built up an impressive collection of my neighbors’ keys—from cat-sitting to main water shut-off access to I don’t know why. A few weeks ago I was rummaging around for something else and came across the holder and realized that it would be the perfect device for storing the other keys in a more accessible way, rather than jumble in the box in which they currently reside. Me being me, I’ve only managed to walk two sets of other keys the ten feet over to it thus far.
As for my own keys, I have two sets. The “big” set that includes my car key and some extra loops, and my “little” set that doesn’t, which I take when I don’t, you know, have to drive. And this is where the beer comes in and your perseverance is rewarded. The little set lives on my Bell’s Oberon tag. Oberon is, you may recall, one of my top favorite beers, and was, in fact, just released Monday for the 2011 season. Spring is not far away when the Oberon flows.
My big keys had a personality change recently. For quite some time they had sported a green whistle sponsored by Corona. If you have learned anything about me, it’s that I don’t drink thin, light, yellow beer. But the Corona whistle was also a bottle opener, so I tolerated its presence. A couple of months ago, there was an upgrade. I attended the Odell Red Ale release party at Pizza Lucé downtown and got swag, including a snazzy Odell bottle opener key ring. Buh-bye, Corona whistle.
I also noticed, in laying out the new picture of my key rings, that I apparently put my car key back on the opposite side the last time my car was in for service.
See? I told you this would be interesting.
V.D.
February 15, 2011
For some weird reason, I didn’t hate today. I even wore a red shirt. I wasn’t looking forward to flowers from a sweetie or anything like that. No, I couldn’t wait to secretly decorating the fake ficus tree in the lobby on my floor at work.
The fake ficus has become the subject of daily updates on another division of my blog because I find its ever-changing position humorous. I don’t doubt that I’m the only one who does. I’m sure the sixty-four page views that the earlier entries have tallied mostly happened by accident. Doesn’t matter. I get a kick out of it so I’ll keep taking a photo every (week)day around 2:45 or 3. The tree actually hasn’t been moving around as much since I started documenting. I also get a kick out of how our neighbors put their large trash right out there to be the first thing people see when they step off the elevator. That’s professional. If you don’t want it in your suite, do you think anyone else wants to look at it in a common area?
I wasn’t privy to many comments about the hearts; I imagine a lot of people didn’t even notice them as many, myself included, have their noses in their phones as they cross through the lobby on the way to the bathroom or the Down button (we’re on the top floor).
I do plan to keep decorating for upcoming holidays and special days. I suppose the ultimate measure of success would be if other secret decorators got into the spirit. They probably won’t, though.
You know I can???t dance
January 31, 2011
Here is a video of me demonstrating a dance move that I made up. I originally called it “The Washing Machine,” but then I decided “The Agitator” had a little more pop. Not only should you admire my funky break, but also please appreciate my Minnesota dead-of-winter indoor get-up of turtleneck and wool sweater, sweat pants and long underwear, socks and sheepskin slippers—figure-flattery at its finest! I do have a furnace that works, but I keep it set a few degrees lower to conserve. Besides, when I’m bustin’ a move I get hot real fast.
Leo Sayer – “Long Tall Glasses (I Can Dance)” – buy it here.
Break time
January 6, 2011
Other than eggs to make breakfast, I don’t really break things. The only thing I’ve broken recently—and that was six months ago—was a glass dinner plate. That wasn’t a big deal, because it was plain, clear glass—generic and easy to replace should I choose to do so. It was much more of a crisis when I finally finished breaking my iPhone 1.
This happened in April, just shortly before the iPhone 4 was even announced. I had been pondering the possibility of upgrading to iPhone 4 anyway because who wouldn’t want to from iPhone 1? At the same time, my iPhone 1 was a little bit of a badge of honor, that I still had the original (even though I held out for nine months after it was originally released).
I was intrigued by the better camera on iPhone 4 and thought that it would be nice to have it for my then-upcoming vacation to London. A camera in my back pocket was much more appealing than carrying around some huge thing slung over my shoulder. At an early season Minnesota Twins baseball game, my hand was forced.
I had already flung my iPhone 1 to the ground several times and the glass had been cracked in a few places for quite some time. I had gotten smart and sealed the shatter at the bottom of the screen (pictured below) with clear nail polish. That area was obviously impaired so I gave it some attention.
The cracks on the upper part of the screen (pictured top) seemed more innocuous because although cracked, the surface still felt smooth. I guess I was in denial, or at least not paying attention. In addition, I got a kick out of casually, conveniently, riding the thing around in my back pants pocket while other people encased theirs in bullet-proof cases or old socks. Who’s laughing now?
Well, at that fateful Twins game, there was a rain delay. I had planned ahead. I sat confidently in my seat in my baseball cap and rain poncho, feeling superior to those who ran for the shelter of the concourses. To amuse myself, I took self-portraits of the situation and went about uploading them to the social networks. Trouble was, although my rain poncho was clear plastic, it was getting steamed up inside and I couldn’t see through it to work on my iPhone. So what did I do? Why, I adjusted its position so that my view was no longer obstructed. I put it out in the open, outside of my rain poncho. I could see again!
I’m smart, but sometimes I’m a dope. I was a dope that night. What did I think was going to happen? Raindrops penetrated through the upper cracks and from then on, the top half of the touchscreen ceased to function. I held my breath for a week until iPhone 4 was announced, and then gave a big sigh of relief that I could get it two days before I left on my trip. I was glad that by that time, iTunes had the capability of rearranging iPhone screens on computer and then syncing, so I could move all of my heavy-use apps to the bottom halves of the windows.
I limped along like that for almost two months. I was ecstatic when I picked up my shiny new iPhone 4. I took immediate advantage of Apple’s offer for a free case. That rubber bumper has already saved iPhone 4 from several perilous situations.
MacGyver: bunny style
December 19, 2010
Do you have a little MacGyver in you? I do not. I can be handy with normal screwdrivers, hammers, and wrenches, and I have pretty good common sense, but I’m not sure how much of a maker I’d ever be able to be.
If I had enough time, maybe I could think through combining gum wrappers and rubber bands. But under pressure I’m no good. That’s why I’ve always preferred writing when I need to express myself in an erudite way. I’m perfectly good at babbling, but if it should be meaningful, the written word is my game.
The best I can do with regard to coming up with a MacGyverism is what you see above. Take one household pet, my rabbit Robbin, and combine him with the common household bottle opener, and you get the Bottle Bunny Opener.
The Bottle Bunny Opener was actually an awesome present from my friend Rob, in case you were wondering.
One thin line
December 8, 2010
This already isn’t going well, because when I was first inspired to write tonight’s entry I had a clear vision of how at least the first one hundred words would go, but then I had to pause to feed the cats (who are always very anxious but hardly ever satisfied) and when I came back to write I couldn’t quite remember anything,
so I sat here for a few minutes trying to recall, but then I finished my glass of crappy Pinot Noir (it was on sale for US$9 minus one additional dollar via a Facebook coupon, so I tried it because I have learned not to discriminate against wine based solely on price, as one of my very favorites is Pepperwood Grove Old Vine Zinfandel which sells for about US$8 per bottle) and decided to switch to Flying Dog Doggie Style Pale Ale which turned out to be lovely indeed even though it didn’t restore my memory—
and really, if anything, at this point in the evening contributed to just the opposite and distracted me even further, which I find to be a slight bit more of an issue as I age, especially the later the drinking goes on—aging sucks—but it did put me in a slightly better frame of mind for writing something, anything, even if I still couldn’t remember what that something was originally going to be, you know, just half an hour earlier,
which is perturbing, because I usually have a really good memory for the details of what has gone on, which any of my friends who have been annoyed by my recollection of facts can tell you, even if such remembering is in conjunction with consuming tasty beverages such as Summit Extra Pale Ale at bowling, karaoke or some such thing, but tonight I sort of lost the plan so I’m thankful that, even after I fed the cats, something jogged my memory a little bit every few minutes so that I could get this far—sort of—
and now have I just realized that I seem to have unintentionally drawn myself as Janeane Garofalo in that superhero movie (with a little bit of Amy Winehouse thrown in for good measure), and I think that’s a good place to stop.
Me, right now
September 18, 2010
Take a photo of yourself right now! Even though I looked pretty rough, I regret that I censored (and deleted) my very first “right now” this morning. But I was embarrassed by the result of too much beer and too little sleep last night.
Instead you get my second, third, and fourth right nows. I came back to the camera after I had had my shower this morning and was feeling clean, if not a little fresher than half an hour earlier. I tried to get my cat CJ to join me but she was too busy buttering me up for her breakfast to pose nicely.
During the day, some people posted followup photos to their first ones, and in the seventh inning of the Minnesota Twins baseball game at Target Field tonight, I decided that would be the perfect scene for another shot. You can see that I and 40,000 of my closest friends are enjoying ourselves, despite the Twins’ subsequent loss to the Oakland A’s.
The weather was iffy today, and if there’s a chance it will rain, I park my bike at a nearby building under its overhang for shelter. (My office and Target Field are within a few blocks of each other so I just leave my bike where it is when I go to a game.) I guess because it’s a utility company they have good security, including a camera that monitors the front where the bike rack is. And something in its software motion detects and draws a red box around the mover. That’s me! I find it a little creepy that it can do that, but at the same time, sometimes I dance around a little just to see how the square changes size. I had snapped this picture to share my thoughts about it elsewhere, then couldn’t resist also sharing it with the other right nowers.
And now to bed so that I won’t have to be embarrassed two mornings in a row.
Starring as me
August 16, 2010
Who would you want to play yourself in a movie? I’m not asking who is your celebrity doppelgänger. I’m asking who would be able to channel the inner you on the big screen?
Figuring this out occupied my thoughts as I laid in bed last night waiting to fall asleep. I had initially thought that maybe Zooey Deschanel could be the one, because I love her quirkiness, but she’s also kind of wispy, and I’m not wispy. The second name that popped into my head was Janeane Garofalo. I thought that I should try to consider more possibilities but quickly realized that there was a reason why Ms. Garofalo came to mind.
I thought about what I know about her. If put under pressure to name movies she was in, all I’d be able to come up with without looking is The Truth about Cats and Dogs and that superhero one (by the way, that skull bowling ball that she used wasn’t just a prop). What I remember is that she does dorky and class clown, awkward and a little attractive, wallflower but underestimated.
I figured she’d be the one to be able to pull off portraying my type of personality in a believable way. I’m not a starlet, glamour girl type, and it was just a happy coincidence that there was a little more of a physical resemblance (beyond the dark hair) than I had realized.
Through the years there are celebrities I’ve been said to resemble. In my early twenties, it was Joan Jett and Martha Quinn. More recently, it was Mary McDonnell. I don’t really see it beyond hair color and/or style.
Back to doppelgängers. I learned of the website myheritage.com, where you can upload a photo of yourself and it will come up with celebrity look-alikes. I did it five times with different photos. I didn’t try to trick it for four of them, though when I kept getting a particular result, I did, as a last resort, give it the sunglasses photo just to test it. Naturally you have to take these things with a grain of salt. First, my matches were almost all men. I accept that. But second, some of the more outlandish matches it gave me included Prince Harry, Desmond Tutu, and Jessica Simpson. What?
I was relieved that it did return Janeane Garofalo one time (coincidentally, the same photo that I chose to use of her). And I was a little bit flattered that it gave me Gary Oldman twice, because I really like him. But who was the celebrity that it gave me all four times? James Spader. I’m not sure what to think about that!
Sunglass badass
August 11, 2010
If I were a U.S. Marshall, this is what I’d look like—at least if I played one on USA Network. I only had these on for a couple of minutes (basically long enough to snap the photo), but for those two minutes I channeled my inner Mary Shannon and felt like a complete badass.
I’ve worn eyeglasses since I was seven and so just never got into the habit of wearing sunglasses. Even for the many years that I wore contact lenses I didn’t have an overly-developed need to put on the shades, though I did do my little part to support the industry. I suppose I could get prescription sunglasses but it has never seemed like even a low priority in my financial world.
This scene happened on my recent vacation in London. My friend Spiros suddenly suggested that he, our other friend Dan, and I try on each other’s glasses. Dan and I have eyeglasses, Spiros had sunglasses. I have quite poor vision and so Dan’s glasses didn’t help much and conversely, my Coke bottle prescription must have seemed dizzying. Not to mention the bifocals aspect.
When I put on the sunglasses I couldn’t see a thing. Not only was my vision uncorrected, it was uncorrected and darkened. But I wouldn’t have needed to see a thing because I suddenly looked like a badass. Anyone I encountered would just run from me in terror and it wouldn’t matter that I couldn’t actually see them—they wouldn’t know that. I’d just turn my face in the direction of the sound of their footsteps or voice, and maybe straighten my posture to a more menacing stature, and any would-be confronter would turn around and flee like a tiny bunny flashing the whitetail danger sign.
I am not a badass. I handed back the sunglasses and returned to the security of my -9.0 lenses.
It???s not a purse, it???s a bag
August 7, 2010
I don’t carry a purse. If someone calls it that, I correct them. If it straps over two shoulders and rests on my back, it’s not a purse, it’s a bag. Quite often it’s not even a bag, it’s just my wallet. Quite often it’s not my wallet, it’s the little take-out insert that holds cash, the drivers license, and a couple of cards. Frequently it’s just my drivers license and cash or a card in my back pocket.
The wallet holds all the necessaries, clockwise from upper left: the wallet with my transit stored value card; gum; cherry Carmex (which, incidentally, I was leery about getting but the store was out of plain and it turns out the cherry adds a nice little accent to things such as coffee and Diet Coke); cards (car insurance, dental insurance, health insurance, HSA VISA card, business card, $20 Marshall’s gift card, frequent buyer card for Robbin’s brand of rabbit pellets); wallet insert (driver’s license, cash, VISA check card, Dunn Bros Coffee customer loyalty card).
My most-often toted bag is my giant leather backpack which usually goes to work with me. It carries my lunchbox, wallet, iPod, umbrella, anything. It is well-worn and a few years ago I tried unsuccessfully to find a replacement. Then people kept complimenting its rugged demeanor and calling it cool so I stopped searching.
Next is my mini-backpack. That goes to bowling with me and in it you will find my Nalgene bottle with 200mL ice frozen in the bottom and filled with water, my iPod, and my wallet.
When I went to London recently, I did give in and buy this green pouch. I wanted something big enough to put my passport in, and it turns out it was also quite happy to carry a large water bottle. Since my return, I’ve found that it’s handy for wallet, iPhone, and keys when I go to work out and don’t have any pockets. I imagine that when I have to start wearing a jacket again in the fall, it will lay unused for the most part. I confess I’m surprised by how much I like this thing. Maybe because it’s green. Even so, I can’t bring myself to call it a purse. Purses are bigger and have make-up and stuff in them. I don’t carry that around with me; Carmex is the closest I get to that. Purse is too girlie for me.
Even when I’m carrying one of my bags, the iPhone rides around in my back pocket.
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