The problem with not blogging daily is that you get out of the habit of doing so. And then, when it comes time to update, you either don't want to, or have so much to say that you don't know where to begin. And/or, you certainly don't remember everything.
So, now that the vacation is over - I go back to work tomorrow - I find myself in the position of having a LOT to talk about, but very little desire to actually take the time to type it all out. The lesson is that when we go on our next trip (be it vacation, or when we leave Las Vegas for good) that we certainly need a lap top. Or I should write things down as we go, so that I can remember things better.
Anyway. List time. Because listing things (in no particular order) seems to be how my brain works best, and because it's one of the laziest ways of blogging and getting information out. The trip was overall a great one, but it wasn't all liquid sunshine and Pepsi. I'll start with the bad, to get it out of the way, and also so that I can end with the positive.
The Bad
- Harper was killed.
During the conference, there was a game of "Assassin" being played. Assassin is played pretty much like this:
Everyone who is playing puts their names on a slip of paper, and the names go into a hat. Draw a name. Whoever you picked, is who you have to "kill" sometime during the conference. To kill a person, you simply have to touch them on the shoulder and say, "You are dead." or "Gotcha" or "I just killed you", or something to that effect.
The catch is - there can be no witnesses.
So, traveling in groups is a safe way to avoid being murdered. However, if you are constantly in a group, it means that you can't do any killing either.
Once you kill a person, they have to give you their target, and that becomes your next person to assassinate.
Harper ended up being killed by a teenage girl who was, apparently, quite good at the game (she had already taken out 10 other people before getting Harper). But the fact that she got "killed" was highly disturbing to Harper. She was inconsolable for at least 45 minutes, until eventually, she was "brought back to life" by the girl who had killed her, and they agreed that they would work together to get Harper's target.
Assassin was fun, though, and I think if Harper plays again, she'll be better prepared for it.
- We got sick
Harper, Irina and I started getting runny noses and sore throats around Wednesday (the 25th). Steph didn't start feeling bad until yesterday. For the most part, I'm over my illness, although I still have occasional bouts of coughing. Being sick is never fun, even when you're in Oregon.
- My boss was in a car accident
On Wednesday the 25th, I got a call from work, informing me that my supervisor had been in a pretty bad accident, and would be out "for a while". The initial call was pretty much right after it happened, and a lot of the information was inaccurate. (I was first told that he had broken his back. I was told later that he has a fractured vertebrae, which is marginally better, but still pretty scary.)
The rest of the week (Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday) I received calls from work, either giving me updates, or asking me work related questions that only I - or my supervisor - would be able to handle.
- We got pulled over for speeding
In Tonopah on the way home. I was doing 51 in a 25. Because 25 is a ridiculously low speed to drive. And also, it didn't feel like we were moving that fast.
- Steph's camera broke
On Thursday night, as we were going into our hotel, Steph's camera was accidentally dropped.
On Friday, when we went to our last fun spot before beginning the boring drive back, we discovered that due to the drop, it was not going to operate anymore. :(
The Good!
- The pictures were still retrievable
If you check out Steph's blog, you can see many of the photos from the trip. Even though the camera won't be taking any new pictures, the ones that were on the card were still able to be put on the computer. Yay technology!
- We were let go with a warning
Thankfully, the cop in Tonopah didn't give us a ticket. (Even though I was going double the posted limit!) A ticket would be the last thing we need. To my credit, I drove the speed limit the entire way home. (Even 25 in all the small towns in Nevada)
- Powell's book city
Dude.
DUDE.
Portland is a very interesting city (although I don't know 100% how I feel about it, and whether I would want to actually live there) but one of the most amazing parts of it was Powell's. Powell's City of Books is pretty much what it says. It's about 4 city blocks worth of used and new books, located in downtown Portland.
Going to Portland for that alone would be worth it. We really needed more time to actually walk through that place - it's huge! - but at least we've now seen it.
- The Oregon Vortex
This was where we discovered that Steph's camera was not working, so we had to buy a disposable. (For 12 bucks!) I just wikied up the Oregon Vortex, and the short article there kinda dampened some of the enthusiasm from the visit, but even if it was just optical illusions, it was still kinda cool to see a golf ball roll uphill, and to witness Steph grow several inches just by moving a few feet.
-Abby's Legendary Pizza
Yummy!
- The Talent Show
Steph got video of the girls doing their hula-hooping at the talent show this time around. Both of them have improved their abilities quite a bit - and they were already really good at the previous conference. Saren even worked in doing some jumps and hula-hooping on her knees.
- Barefoot Boogie
The last night of the conference, there was an all-ages, 3 hour dance. Irina was hilarious, and the girls all had an amazing time. I even let go of my reservations and danced with the crowd.
- Portland Zoo
The San Diego Zoo gets all the press, but I think the Portland Zoo is the better of the two. It's smaller - which means less walking! And maybe it was because it was cooler, or because it was Portland, or because it was a school day, or I don't know - but it was also much less crowded, so that was another plus.
- KNRK
Best radio station I found during the trip.
- Newport Aquarium
Even though I was sick, and completely energyless during our visit to the Newport Aquarium, it was still fun.
- Done blogging
I know I'm forgetting/leaving out a LOT of the experience, but that's what Steph's blog is for. ;)
Monday, April 30, 2007
Sunday, April 22, 2007
The trip so far (continued)
Where did I leave off?
Oh, right. Thursday.
Like I said, that day we did not have a gigantic drive ahead of us, so we opted to do a little sight-seeing in Jacksonville (fee non ay! [I really cant stop doing that, Im sorry]) first.
Jacksonville (fee non ay!) is this little town that has maybe 1000 people living in it. (Maybe more, we didnt see the entire town, but i cant imagine that its population is more than 5000.) The entire downtown area is all walking distance, and many of the buildings [and homes] were built in the 1850s - 1880s, so its quite the historic little town. And the fact that it is located in lush green forests only adds to its charm.
While walking around, we saw many many cats just roaming free. The weird thing is, they were all orange. Or had some orange fur on them. It mightve even been the same cat, stalking us. We also saw several ginormous squirrels. I think in another 500 million years or so, those squirrels are going to be running that place. So, you know, be prepared.
We had lunch in The Mustard Seed Cafe, which had some awesome food, and everyone that came in knew each other, and they were all nice and they had Pepsi, of course. After that, we walked up to the town cemetary, because cemetaries are interesting, and because we are morbid. :)
The cemetary probably has more inhabitants than the town.
But thats okay, because that place was really cool. While we were there, we ran into a woman that worked there, and she filled us in on some of the projects that the city has going on with regard to the cemetary - fixing up some of the old plots, completely doing a census of sorts regarding who is buried in what graves, warding off zombies, that sort of stuff.
By around 2pm, we decided to head toward Corvallis. While on the way we drove through Eugene, which.... wasnt all that fab, sadly. Granted, we only drove through one little bit of it, and there could be many other parts of Eugene that are lovely, but we certainly didnt see them that day. Springfield was slightly better, but overall, I think if I had my druthers, Id pick Jacksonville (fee non ay) or Medford as a place in Oregon to live over Eugene or Springfield.
Got to the hotel (the Salbasgeon, which for the first couple of days I refered to as Sebastian, until I learned that it derived its name from 3 types of fish - salmon/bass/sturgeon) around 6ish. Walked across the street to KFC for dinner, came back, and watched the most entertaining episode of Survivor in a LONG time, then took the girls swwimiing for a little while before finally settling back in for the night.
Friday
This was the first official day of the conference, although registration didnt begin until noon.
This is going to sound bad, especially since it was just two days ago, but ...I dont remember what we did on Friday. We did the welcome speech thing...and I know the girls ran around, but I cant remember what the mass majority of the day consisted of, until the pajama party at 8pm. In the morning, Harper, Irina and I had the free breakfast (which was quite deliciious, actually) and Saren adn Steph drove down to Sunnyside Up - a local restaurant where many of the conference attendees were having a pre-conference get together.
The pj party was fun. And wild. It started off with a giant duck duck goose game (although it seemed that adults either werent invited, or simply werent joinng in by choice. I shouldve broken out of my comfort zone and sat in with them, but didnt.) and it morphed into a game of Simon Says, and balloon sword fights, and Dance Dance Revolution and Connect 4 and Blink and knock knock jokes and screaming and running around and fun...
Saturday
This isnt going to be in order, just a list of things that happened, as they come back to me:
- Had dinner at Sunnyside Up. That was really cool. They have this brilliant idea of putting trivial pursuit cards on the tables. hee! Awesome way to kill time while waiting for your food. Plus, lots of local art on the walls, and a very funny sign on the outside door (Steph took a picture of it, so I wont ruin the surprise) Themenu was a little too... new age? hippy? whole foods?...something... for my comfort zone, but i enjoyed the turkey sandwich, and they had Pepsi, so it was all good.
....and again, im gonna cut this short and finish up later...
Oh, right. Thursday.
Like I said, that day we did not have a gigantic drive ahead of us, so we opted to do a little sight-seeing in Jacksonville (fee non ay! [I really cant stop doing that, Im sorry]) first.
Jacksonville (fee non ay!) is this little town that has maybe 1000 people living in it. (Maybe more, we didnt see the entire town, but i cant imagine that its population is more than 5000.) The entire downtown area is all walking distance, and many of the buildings [and homes] were built in the 1850s - 1880s, so its quite the historic little town. And the fact that it is located in lush green forests only adds to its charm.
While walking around, we saw many many cats just roaming free. The weird thing is, they were all orange. Or had some orange fur on them. It mightve even been the same cat, stalking us. We also saw several ginormous squirrels. I think in another 500 million years or so, those squirrels are going to be running that place. So, you know, be prepared.
We had lunch in The Mustard Seed Cafe, which had some awesome food, and everyone that came in knew each other, and they were all nice and they had Pepsi, of course. After that, we walked up to the town cemetary, because cemetaries are interesting, and because we are morbid. :)
The cemetary probably has more inhabitants than the town.
But thats okay, because that place was really cool. While we were there, we ran into a woman that worked there, and she filled us in on some of the projects that the city has going on with regard to the cemetary - fixing up some of the old plots, completely doing a census of sorts regarding who is buried in what graves, warding off zombies, that sort of stuff.
By around 2pm, we decided to head toward Corvallis. While on the way we drove through Eugene, which.... wasnt all that fab, sadly. Granted, we only drove through one little bit of it, and there could be many other parts of Eugene that are lovely, but we certainly didnt see them that day. Springfield was slightly better, but overall, I think if I had my druthers, Id pick Jacksonville (fee non ay) or Medford as a place in Oregon to live over Eugene or Springfield.
Got to the hotel (the Salbasgeon, which for the first couple of days I refered to as Sebastian, until I learned that it derived its name from 3 types of fish - salmon/bass/sturgeon) around 6ish. Walked across the street to KFC for dinner, came back, and watched the most entertaining episode of Survivor in a LONG time, then took the girls swwimiing for a little while before finally settling back in for the night.
Friday
This was the first official day of the conference, although registration didnt begin until noon.
This is going to sound bad, especially since it was just two days ago, but ...I dont remember what we did on Friday. We did the welcome speech thing...and I know the girls ran around, but I cant remember what the mass majority of the day consisted of, until the pajama party at 8pm. In the morning, Harper, Irina and I had the free breakfast (which was quite deliciious, actually) and Saren adn Steph drove down to Sunnyside Up - a local restaurant where many of the conference attendees were having a pre-conference get together.
The pj party was fun. And wild. It started off with a giant duck duck goose game (although it seemed that adults either werent invited, or simply werent joinng in by choice. I shouldve broken out of my comfort zone and sat in with them, but didnt.) and it morphed into a game of Simon Says, and balloon sword fights, and Dance Dance Revolution and Connect 4 and Blink and knock knock jokes and screaming and running around and fun...
Saturday
This isnt going to be in order, just a list of things that happened, as they come back to me:
- Had dinner at Sunnyside Up. That was really cool. They have this brilliant idea of putting trivial pursuit cards on the tables. hee! Awesome way to kill time while waiting for your food. Plus, lots of local art on the walls, and a very funny sign on the outside door (Steph took a picture of it, so I wont ruin the surprise) Themenu was a little too... new age? hippy? whole foods?...something... for my comfort zone, but i enjoyed the turkey sandwich, and they had Pepsi, so it was all good.
....and again, im gonna cut this short and finish up later...
The trip so far
(Or, what I can remember, and what I can type while everyone else is still sleeping. Letś just call it the highlights, shall we? [also, note to myself - avoid the apostrophe key!])
Tuesday
we left the house around 9;11 in the morning. Although we needed to fill up the gas tank, and turn back home for a few forgotten items before really hitting the road around 945. (And we still ended up not bringing eveerything. Some of the Nintendo DS games, for example, and I had wanted to bring some of ooour board games to share/play, and we forgot those as well. Also, Harpers notebook/journal.)
Anyway. Tuesday was a mostly-driving day. Got to Tonopah for lunch, and while it was slightlly interesting with its historic background of having been a mining town, Tonopah [and most of the Nevada desert] is just ugly. Certainly wouldnt want to live there.
Kept driving -for whaaat seemed like days - and we finnally got to Reno (911!) neaar supertime.
I suppose I should note now that this keyboard, in addition to having the apostroophe phobia (apostrophobia?) also has a tendency to go overboard on leeetters if you hold it down for more than a milisecond. I had been correcting the additional letters and spaces (for the most part) but it is just too difficult to keep doing it, so, there ya go.
Anyway. The first thing we noticed about Reno (911!) was how cold it was! The wind was blowing as wwwe got into our hotel room, and it was damn chilly. Uh-oh, we thought, hopefully the rest of the trip wont be this cold because wwwwwe are really not prepared for it.
Aftr setting up in the hotel room, wwe were getting hungry, so Steph sent me (and Saren) out to get food. On the drive back...it began to snow.
Snow.
In April.
Half my wardrobe is shorts. The girls also wwwere not winterweather equpped. But, as the blizzzzzzaard continued to pour down - and it began to truly stick to the ground - we let them go out and play in the flakes.
When we woke up the next morning, ultimaately about an inch had fallen and remained on the ground.
Wednessday
Another long driving day. Mostly going through mountains. Or, more accurately, snow covered mountains.The snow flurries hit us off and on through most of the drive, as well. Eventually it started to die down, and warm up, but for a while it looked like it was going to be a whitechristmas um..Earth Day.
Wednesssdays stoopping location was Medford, Oregon, which is a nice midsized town that I think would really not be a bad place to live. Steph likes neighboring Jacksonville (fee non ay!) better, and I agree that either city could be ideal.
We drove around Medford for a while, and had dinner at Abbeys (Legendary) Pizza. Which was a pizza place we had visited on our first trip to Oregon. Yummy stuff. Also, Oregon seems to be a Pepsi loving state. Most eveeerywhere you go, you see signs for Pepsi. Awesome.
Wednesday night, after the superlong drive, the girls needed to unwind, so we all walked over the river (and through the woods, ironically enough) that was right next to our motel, and into what had to be the most incredible playground I have eveer seen. This thing was HUGE! It was alll wood, and had hundreds of hideyholes and a gigantic maze and slides (which the girls didnnt go on because it had rained and they were wet. Vegas slides cant go on because of the heat, Oregon slides cant go on because of the rain) and sliding floors and all kinds of fun stuff. As it started togeet dark, we headed back to the hotel, waatched Lost, and went to sleep.
Thurssday
Since Thursdays drive was not a long one, we decided to investigate Jacksonville (fee non ay!) for a while first.
This is getting a bit long, and its now 8am, and we still need to have breakfast, and everyone is waking up, so I guess I will wrap it up for now. More later.
Tuesday
we left the house around 9;11 in the morning. Although we needed to fill up the gas tank, and turn back home for a few forgotten items before really hitting the road around 945. (And we still ended up not bringing eveerything. Some of the Nintendo DS games, for example, and I had wanted to bring some of ooour board games to share/play, and we forgot those as well. Also, Harpers notebook/journal.)
Anyway. Tuesday was a mostly-driving day. Got to Tonopah for lunch, and while it was slightlly interesting with its historic background of having been a mining town, Tonopah [and most of the Nevada desert] is just ugly. Certainly wouldnt want to live there.
Kept driving -for whaaat seemed like days - and we finnally got to Reno (911!) neaar supertime.
I suppose I should note now that this keyboard, in addition to having the apostroophe phobia (apostrophobia?) also has a tendency to go overboard on leeetters if you hold it down for more than a milisecond. I had been correcting the additional letters and spaces (for the most part) but it is just too difficult to keep doing it, so, there ya go.
Anyway. The first thing we noticed about Reno (911!) was how cold it was! The wind was blowing as wwwe got into our hotel room, and it was damn chilly. Uh-oh, we thought, hopefully the rest of the trip wont be this cold because wwwwwe are really not prepared for it.
Aftr setting up in the hotel room, wwe were getting hungry, so Steph sent me (and Saren) out to get food. On the drive back...it began to snow.
Snow.
In April.
Half my wardrobe is shorts. The girls also wwwere not winterweather equpped. But, as the blizzzzzzaard continued to pour down - and it began to truly stick to the ground - we let them go out and play in the flakes.
When we woke up the next morning, ultimaately about an inch had fallen and remained on the ground.
Wednessday
Another long driving day. Mostly going through mountains. Or, more accurately, snow covered mountains.The snow flurries hit us off and on through most of the drive, as well. Eventually it started to die down, and warm up, but for a while it looked like it was going to be a white
Wednesssdays stoopping location was Medford, Oregon, which is a nice midsized town that I think would really not be a bad place to live. Steph likes neighboring Jacksonville (fee non ay!) better, and I agree that either city could be ideal.
We drove around Medford for a while, and had dinner at Abbeys (Legendary) Pizza. Which was a pizza place we had visited on our first trip to Oregon. Yummy stuff. Also, Oregon seems to be a Pepsi loving state. Most eveeerywhere you go, you see signs for Pepsi. Awesome.
Wednesday night, after the superlong drive, the girls needed to unwind, so we all walked over the river (and through the woods, ironically enough) that was right next to our motel, and into what had to be the most incredible playground I have eveer seen. This thing was HUGE! It was alll wood, and had hundreds of hideyholes and a gigantic maze and slides (which the girls didnnt go on because it had rained and they were wet. Vegas slides cant go on because of the heat, Oregon slides cant go on because of the rain) and sliding floors and all kinds of fun stuff. As it started togeet dark, we headed back to the hotel, waatched Lost, and went to sleep.
Thurssday
Since Thursdays drive was not a long one, we decided to investigate Jacksonville (fee non ay!) for a while first.
This is getting a bit long, and its now 8am, and we still need to have breakfast, and everyone is waking up, so I guess I will wrap it up for now. More later.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Water water everywhere
So, Oregon is wet.
But, you know, it really isnt that bad.(We are at the hotel in Corvallis where the Life Is Good Conference is going on, and the hotel has a computer in it with free internet access. [although for some reason hitting the apostrophe key causes the computer to beep extremely loudly])
A full update will be forthcoming, I just wanted to get in a blog entry from a different state. :)
But, you know, it really isnt that bad.(We are at the hotel in Corvallis where the Life Is Good Conference is going on, and the hotel has a computer in it with free internet access. [although for some reason hitting the apostrophe key causes the computer to beep extremely loudly])
A full update will be forthcoming, I just wanted to get in a blog entry from a different state. :)
Friday, April 13, 2007
Harry Potter and the Big Fat Spoilers
A while back - maybe as far back as July of 2006, I can't recall the exact time, and I'm too lazy to google it up -JK Rowling gave some interviews about the upcoming final Harry Potter book.
In the interview, she said [begin spoiler for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - highlight to view]
There will be two deaths in the book.
She did not say who, or how, or why, or when. [/end spoiler]
Now, maybe it's just me, but I don't want to know that. Having that information put out there is going to taint the way that I read the book, because I'll be expecting it.
Granted, I was expecting it anyway*, but to have it confirmed by the author is just...slightly diminishes the power of surprise one gets when going into the novel completely unaware, ya know?
Fortunately, I excel at forgetting things, and I am sure that there will be plenty of other twists and turns that Book 7 is going to take, so I'm confident that I will still be able to enjoy the book.
Unfortunately, I know that the Internet does love spoilers. And as the release date approaches, it is going to become increasingly difficult to avoid them. I really hope that I can go into Book 7 as unspoiled as I possibly can. It's the way that such things are meant to be experienced, in my opinion.
*[spoilers for what was previously mentioned about HP&tDH]Actually, I was expecting the death toll to be much higher than just two. I mean, the final battle between Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter and only two characters bite it? Maybe it *will* be higher, and the 2 characters was just a minimum, but even so, I really wish she hadn't let *any* information slip out like that.[/spoiler]
In the interview, she said [begin spoiler for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - highlight to view]
There will be two deaths in the book.
She did not say who, or how, or why, or when. [/end spoiler]
Now, maybe it's just me, but I don't want to know that. Having that information put out there is going to taint the way that I read the book, because I'll be expecting it.
Granted, I was expecting it anyway*, but to have it confirmed by the author is just...slightly diminishes the power of surprise one gets when going into the novel completely unaware, ya know?
Fortunately, I excel at forgetting things, and I am sure that there will be plenty of other twists and turns that Book 7 is going to take, so I'm confident that I will still be able to enjoy the book.
Unfortunately, I know that the Internet does love spoilers. And as the release date approaches, it is going to become increasingly difficult to avoid them. I really hope that I can go into Book 7 as unspoiled as I possibly can. It's the way that such things are meant to be experienced, in my opinion.
*[spoilers for what was previously mentioned about HP&tDH]Actually, I was expecting the death toll to be much higher than just two. I mean, the final battle between Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter and only two characters bite it? Maybe it *will* be higher, and the 2 characters was just a minimum, but even so, I really wish she hadn't let *any* information slip out like that.[/spoiler]
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Listen
Kurt Vonnegut has died. So it goes.
It's extremely rare for me to be impacted by the passing of a celebrity. I mean, if anything, Vonnegut was simply a member of my granfalloon. I did not know him personally, I never met him, I have not, in fact, even read everything that he has written.
Nevertheless, I have found this news quite upsetting. Vonnegut was a unique and amazing voice, and I feel a deep sense of loss at his passing.
I can take solace in the fact that he is, of course, still alive and writing, and always will be. (Or, more seriously, that his works will always remain with us. I think I'm going to start working my way through Vonnegut's novels.)
Kurt provided us with a lot of meaningful, witty, cynical passages. His impact on me, and, from looking around the internet, obviously plenty of other people, was profound.
God Bless You, Mr. Vonnegut.
God made mud.
God got lonesome.
So God said to some of the mud, "Sit up!"
"See all I've made," said God, "the hills, the sea, the sky, the stars."
And I was some of the mud that got to sit up and look around.
Lucky me, lucky mud.
I, mud, sat up and saw what a nice job God had done.
Nice going, God.
Nobody but you could have done it, God! I certainly couldn't have.
I feel very unimportant compared to You.
The only way I can feel the least bit important is to think of all the mud that didn't even get to sit up and look around.
I got so much, and most mud got so little.
Thank you for the honor!
Now mud lies down again and goes to sleep.
What memories for mud to have!
What interesting other kinds of sitting-up mud I met!
I loved everything I saw!
Good night.
I will go to heaven now.
I can hardly wait...
To find out for certain what my wampeter was...
And who was in my karass...
And all the good things our karass did for you.
Amen.
Kurt is up in Heaven now.
It's extremely rare for me to be impacted by the passing of a celebrity. I mean, if anything, Vonnegut was simply a member of my granfalloon. I did not know him personally, I never met him, I have not, in fact, even read everything that he has written.
Nevertheless, I have found this news quite upsetting. Vonnegut was a unique and amazing voice, and I feel a deep sense of loss at his passing.
I can take solace in the fact that he is, of course, still alive and writing, and always will be. (Or, more seriously, that his works will always remain with us. I think I'm going to start working my way through Vonnegut's novels.)
Kurt provided us with a lot of meaningful, witty, cynical passages. His impact on me, and, from looking around the internet, obviously plenty of other people, was profound.
God Bless You, Mr. Vonnegut.
God made mud.
God got lonesome.
So God said to some of the mud, "Sit up!"
"See all I've made," said God, "the hills, the sea, the sky, the stars."
And I was some of the mud that got to sit up and look around.
Lucky me, lucky mud.
I, mud, sat up and saw what a nice job God had done.
Nice going, God.
Nobody but you could have done it, God! I certainly couldn't have.
I feel very unimportant compared to You.
The only way I can feel the least bit important is to think of all the mud that didn't even get to sit up and look around.
I got so much, and most mud got so little.
Thank you for the honor!
Now mud lies down again and goes to sleep.
What memories for mud to have!
What interesting other kinds of sitting-up mud I met!
I loved everything I saw!
Good night.
I will go to heaven now.
I can hardly wait...
To find out for certain what my wampeter was...
And who was in my karass...
And all the good things our karass did for you.
Amen.
Kurt is up in Heaven now.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Third time's a charm
This post might look familiar to those of you who have been reading my blog for a while. That's because it's a continue-a-story that I have posted (at various stages) twice before.
I'm hoping that this time I get some more responses, and that maybe this story will actually conclude. [I have an idea of where I want to take this narrative in mind, but I'm willing to let it go wherever it gets taken as well.]
So, yeah. In case you are unfamiliar - the idea is that I will post the beginning of a story. The comment section is where the next person continues the story, and it just builds from there. The only 'rules' that I ask are that 1) you don't end the story (that's for me to do) and 2) that you don't post twice in a row.
If you want to add a sentence, or you want to add 452 sentences, it's cool by me. If you don't like the direction the story is going, then change it. And note that the previous incarnations are also still up, so if you want to visit the old tellings and have those stories wind up differently, feel free.
Whew! With that, I will now post the story...
Paul Washington was woken up by the ringing of the telephone. A beam of almost-noon sunlight sneaked in his bedroom window between the thickly drawn curtains. Groggily, he reached for the phone, willing the hangover away. "Hello?" he answered.
The voice on the other end shouted something in German. Paul didn't understand it, but there was no mistaking the urgency, whatever the message may have been. "Sorry, dude. Wrong number." He hung up and fell back into a deep slumber.
Ten minutes later, the door was kicked in. Paul sat up instantly, heart pounding. The adrenaline raced through his body and he was sweating as three men in dark black uniforms and brandishing machine guns surrounded his bed. The men were all yelling at him, obviously irate. Paul stuck his hands up, terrified. Well, at least my hangover
is gone, he thought mindlessly as his brain attempted to understand the bizarre situation he found himself in. The leader of the men poked the nozzle of his machine gun into Paul's ribs and barked some sort of question. Paul shook his head and said, "I...I don't speak German."
The leader said the same phrase again, and again poked Paul with his weapon. Paul's vision blurred and he feared he would faint. He willed himself to stay conscious and said, "Take whatever you want. Just don't hurt me. Please." The leader grabbed Paul's arm roughly. He looked at his forearm, but obviously didn't like what he saw - or as
Paul quickly determined, what he did not see. All three men had a barcode tattoo on their forearms, and they were expecting Paul to have the same. One of the other men asked a question - most likely, "Where's his tattoo?" - and the leader barked angrily at him. Paul was ferevertly wishing this was all a horrific nightmare that he'd soon wake up from.
Paul protested as the leader placed a pair of handcuffs on him, but these men did not seem to understand English any better than he spoke German. "You've got the wrong guy!" he yelled, as they forced him to get out of bed. He had on his jeans, but no shirt.
Realizing that dealing with these thugs wasn't going to work, Paul decided his best course of action was to get help from a neighbor. As the men started to march him out of his apartment, he screamed, "Mrs. Johansen! Mrs. Johansen, call 9-1-1!" His yells brought his next door neighbor to her door. Mrs. Johansen had been Paul's neighbor for the past 4 years. They attended the same church. He knew she'd help. The woman opened the door, and Paul nearly did faint when he saw that Mrs. Johansen had a barcode on her forearm...
It occurred to Paul later that perhaps he had fainted, because the next thing he knew he was sitting at a metal table in a small room with no windows. It looked like he assumed a police interrogation room might look, based on his impressions from television, but there was no mirror and he couldn't see any other sort of surveillance system.
One of Paul's arms was handcuffed (or otherwise tied - he couldn't actually see it) to the back of his chair. It was, incidentally, a very uncomfortable chair, made of metal or plastic or some other material that makes you feel as though there is no padding between your bones and the seat. His other hand was cuffed - if that's the
right word - to the table with one of those plastic zip-ties that he was pretty sure cops and maybe soldiers carried. His head felt very heavy and he couldn't turn it properly. It crossed his mind that he might have been drugged, but he wasn't sure what that would feel like.
He was pretty sure that people on drugs had hallucinations, but he wasn't sure what those were like, either.
Paul blinked and suddenly there was a man standing at the other side of the table. Now Paul was certain he'd been drugged. Either he had blacked out and the man had come into the room, or the man was a hallucination. Paul squinted his eyes in an attempt to focus better.
The man's gun looked real enough. He wasn't sure what kind it was. It looked like something from a Sci-Fi movie, but for all Paul knew, that's what all guns looked like. He wasn't exactly an expert.
He tried to ask the man where he was, but his mouth was dry and no sound came from it. He cleared his throat, because he wasn't sure what else to do, and managed to croak out something along the lines of, "May I have a glass of water?"
His vision became blurry again and, wondering if perhaps he needed glasses, he blinked a few times again.
Now there was a woman standing next to the man. She looked familiar, though Paul was certain they had never met.
Placing her hands on the table, she leaned toward Paul and said something, but now his ears weren't working properly either and he thought he heard wind blowing, or the ocean, like when you put a conch shell to your ear.
"I'm sorry?"
She leaned closer. "I said..."
"Can you understand me? Is the translator operating?"
Paul blinked. This day was becoming stranger and stranger. When the woman had spoken, he had heard her ask in English, but also slightly speak in German. Additionally, her mouth had not quite been in sync with the English he had heard. It was very similar to seeing someone on television who spoke a foreign language and hearing the translation spoken over it. All the while, the ocean wind noise was faintly whispering in his ear.
In a state of shock, Paul simply asked, "Translator?"
The woman, who must have been wearing her own translator - or who understood English - nodded and tapped her ear. Paul then noticed that something was in his own right ear. It felt like an earplug, but was, undoubtedly, a piece of machinery that was translating the conversation into English for him.
Paul thought all these thoughts, along with "Who are these people??" before realizing that the woman was again speaking and the machine was translating:
"...you will do best to answer my questions honestly. We do not know what connection, if any, you have with Fredrick Muller, but the fact that you were found in his apartment implies at least a casual relationship with that criminal."
Even though the translator did not convey much tone, it was obvious to Paul that this woman despised Fredrick Muller, whomever that was.
The woman went on, "My first question is - how do you not have any identification? Where is your mark?" She pulled up her sleeve, revealing her own bar code tattoo.
Paul swallowed, trying to get his bearings and determine exactly what he was going to say in response. The man with the gun made him nervous and he was confident that if he said the wrong thing, that he would end up a dead man.
"First," he said, "I do not know Fredrick Muller. The apartment you people pulled me out of was mine. You've obviously got the wrong person. As for identification, I have my driver's license at home in my..." the woman smacked him across the face, hard, silencing Paul.
She snarled, "Do not lie to me!" in German and the translator managed to chill Paul.
"How did you remove your identification?" she asked, yanking on Paul's free arm, looking again for his nonexistent bar code. "How?!"
Paul didn't know what to do, but didn't think that attempts at deceit would work with these people. Besides that, he didn't know what it was they wanted him to say, so he stuck with the truth. "I'm trying to tell you I've never had one!" he said in an exasperated tone.
The woman heard this in her translator and looked at Paul like he were crazy (Paul was beginning to think she might be onto something there). "That is not possible." she said flatly.
At that moment there was a knock on the door and another guard (Paul assumed, he had the look of a guard) entered and spoke to the woman. Paul's translator picked up the conversation and converted it to English for him, despite the fact that he probably wasn't meant to hear any of it. "Burr," (Paul at first thought the guard had said
"brr", but then quickly realized that 'Burr' was the woman's name - or title, perhaps), "there is something you must see."
"I am interrogating the suspect right now." Burr growled back. The guard said, "There is another like him. Another person with no identification. A Negro in his thirties. He only speaks English. He was found in district five, trying to break into someone's home. Schmidt has him in the other room and is requesting you come right away."
Burr looked at Paul and then at the guard. "Bring the other man in here. I will interrogate them both at the same time. Perhaps the lack of identification and the English language are not all these men have in common."
The guard nodded and left the room. Paul didn't think his request would be granted, but saw no major harm in asking - especially since he could now be understood - "May I get a drink of water, please? And perhaps a shirt?"
Burr considered Paul briefly, then said to the man with the gun, "Water. Shirt." The man nodded and left the room without a word.
At that time the other guard entered, forcing a scared looking black man in front of him. He looked at Paul and seemed to draw several conclusions quite quickly. "They arrest you, too?" he asked Paul. Paul nodded, afraid to say anything aloud, but inside he was ecstatic to hear another person speaking his native tongue. The black man was forced into a chair beside Paul, and the guard with the gun said to Burr, "I'll go get a translator for him." The black man said, "I told you! I don't speak German. No shpreckin the Deutsch!" Paul smiled in spite of himself. He liked this man.
Burr frowned. "Tell your friend to shut up," she ordered Paul, "or I will kill him."
Paul had no doubt she would do it, either. He said to the man, "Hi. I'm Paul. Paul Washington. That woman there? She's in charge. Don't piss her off. Right now she doesn't want you to talk. I suggest you listen to her."
"Huh." the man replied. Then to Paul, "Oh. My name is Derrick. Derr..." but at that moment Burr smacked Derrick across the face.
Derrick leapt up and was going to retaliate, but Burr kneed the middle aged man in the groin, dropping him instantly. "I told you to tell him not to speak." she said coldly to Paul. Paul simply gaped at the whole scene, unable to help Derrick up, since he was still handcuffed to his chair.
The other guard returned at that moment with a glass of water and a light blue shirt for Paul. The shirt was tossed into Paul's lap, the glass of water was put in his free hand.
Derrick slowly got back up and sat in his chair. The guard took that opportunity to handcuff his arm. Derrick didn't object - at least verbally - but Paul knew he wasn't happy about this development. This guard also had a translator and he placed it in Derrick's ear.
Burr asked Derrick if he could understand her, if his translator was working and to simply nod if the answer was yes. Derrick nodded.
"Good." Burr said. "Now we will begin to get some answers...
"First, you will tell me why you were breaking into a district five house."
There was a half second pause before Derrick answered, in which Paul could see him swallow all manner of emotion. He had a fire in him, and Paul could tell that he wanted to let it out. But that hit to the face seemed to have sobered him pretty well. When he spoke, it was in a low and even voice.
"Like I told your boys when they came up behind me, it was my house I was getting into. I was not breaking in. My key was stuck."
It was hard to tell from her face what Burr made of this answer. Then she smiled.
"You certainly cannot expect me to believe that ... one of your kind ... has a home in district five."
"That so?" Derrick bit out.
Burr continued to smile. "So were you there for stealing, or were you sent to terrorize our good citizens?"
Oh how Paul understood (as much as he understood anything) what was going on behind his new friend's bewildered face. If he was that - "friend" was an appropriate word for a guy you instinctively trust in an utterly foreign situation - right? Paul wondered idly when the Germans would leave them alone so they could make sense of everything and ... maybe make a masterful escape? Somehow, he didn't that was
going to happen. He had to do his best with these unnerving guards staring him down. It was like trying to solve a crossword puzzle with a bomb counting down. They both had to play their hands well. "But our hands are tied," he thought ridiculously. What was Derrick going to say?
He wouldn't get to know, it seemed. The door opened again, and again, an urgent message was calling Burr to the door. Paul strained to hear the hushed tones, and he saw Burr's eyes narrow.
"...Jackson."
"Huh?" Derrick had whispered to him.
"Jackson," he repeated. "The other half of my name."
"Oh." Paul smiled. He pushed down the urge to laugh. He felt a little crazy.
"SO!"
The harsh, reverberating syllable brought Paul back to reality (assuming that word fit).
"Separate them!" Burr barked. She was smiling again. Maniacally.
The two guards swooped down on Derrick. One of them cut the band around his wrist. Derrick's eyes were painfully wide as they pulled him from the room. So much for company.
The woman was approaching him again.
"Now we have you," she said.
"You do?" said Paul, blankly. He had given up all illusion that he could control this situation.
"The phone call to the apartment..." she began.
The phone call to the apartment.
"...was traced from your friend's house."
A deafening noise from outside the room followed this pronouncement, as Burr glared at him, unblinking.
"I swear I don't..." Paul started to object, convinced that it would do him absolutely no good. These people didn't listen to reason, they wouldn't listen to the truth, and Paul didn't even know what the hell the truth was anymore. But it didn't matter, and Paul didn't get to finish his declaration because another loud boom interrupted him, this one much closer. It was accompanied by the smell of smoke and the sound of panicked screams of anguish and confusion. Burr had turned to face the door when it exploded inward.
Paul screamed and attempted to hide himself underneath the table. His arm was still handcuffed to the chair and his wrist was cut badly as a result. Burr had been knocked backward from the explosion, but was regaining her composure quickly. She pulled a gun (Paul wasn't sure what type, but it was small enough to have been concealed earlier) and fired into the smoke that was pouring into the interrogation room. Paul closed his eyes and so he did not see the number of people who came into the room, and he did not see the shot that hit Burr in the abdomen. When he opened his eyes, there were three strangers in the room and Burr was lying beside him with a bullet wound in her gut, possibly dead.
One of the men reached into Burr's pocket, pulled out the keys to the cuffs, and tossed them to the man standing above Paul. He unlocked Paul's chains and offered his hand to Paul. Part of Paul's mind that wanted to retreat to a fantasy land thought, "Now he'll say 'Come with me if you want to live', just like in the Terminator movies."
The man did speak, then, but he did not quote Arnold Schwarzenneger. Instead, he spoke in German, and the translator whispered in Paul's ear, "Paul Washington, my name is Fredrick Muller. We don't have much time."
I'm hoping that this time I get some more responses, and that maybe this story will actually conclude. [I have an idea of where I want to take this narrative in mind, but I'm willing to let it go wherever it gets taken as well.]
So, yeah. In case you are unfamiliar - the idea is that I will post the beginning of a story. The comment section is where the next person continues the story, and it just builds from there. The only 'rules' that I ask are that 1) you don't end the story (that's for me to do) and 2) that you don't post twice in a row.
If you want to add a sentence, or you want to add 452 sentences, it's cool by me. If you don't like the direction the story is going, then change it. And note that the previous incarnations are also still up, so if you want to visit the old tellings and have those stories wind up differently, feel free.
Whew! With that, I will now post the story...
Paul Washington was woken up by the ringing of the telephone. A beam of almost-noon sunlight sneaked in his bedroom window between the thickly drawn curtains. Groggily, he reached for the phone, willing the hangover away. "Hello?" he answered.
The voice on the other end shouted something in German. Paul didn't understand it, but there was no mistaking the urgency, whatever the message may have been. "Sorry, dude. Wrong number." He hung up and fell back into a deep slumber.
Ten minutes later, the door was kicked in. Paul sat up instantly, heart pounding. The adrenaline raced through his body and he was sweating as three men in dark black uniforms and brandishing machine guns surrounded his bed. The men were all yelling at him, obviously irate. Paul stuck his hands up, terrified. Well, at least my hangover
is gone, he thought mindlessly as his brain attempted to understand the bizarre situation he found himself in. The leader of the men poked the nozzle of his machine gun into Paul's ribs and barked some sort of question. Paul shook his head and said, "I...I don't speak German."
The leader said the same phrase again, and again poked Paul with his weapon. Paul's vision blurred and he feared he would faint. He willed himself to stay conscious and said, "Take whatever you want. Just don't hurt me. Please." The leader grabbed Paul's arm roughly. He looked at his forearm, but obviously didn't like what he saw - or as
Paul quickly determined, what he did not see. All three men had a barcode tattoo on their forearms, and they were expecting Paul to have the same. One of the other men asked a question - most likely, "Where's his tattoo?" - and the leader barked angrily at him. Paul was ferevertly wishing this was all a horrific nightmare that he'd soon wake up from.
Paul protested as the leader placed a pair of handcuffs on him, but these men did not seem to understand English any better than he spoke German. "You've got the wrong guy!" he yelled, as they forced him to get out of bed. He had on his jeans, but no shirt.
Realizing that dealing with these thugs wasn't going to work, Paul decided his best course of action was to get help from a neighbor. As the men started to march him out of his apartment, he screamed, "Mrs. Johansen! Mrs. Johansen, call 9-1-1!" His yells brought his next door neighbor to her door. Mrs. Johansen had been Paul's neighbor for the past 4 years. They attended the same church. He knew she'd help. The woman opened the door, and Paul nearly did faint when he saw that Mrs. Johansen had a barcode on her forearm...
It occurred to Paul later that perhaps he had fainted, because the next thing he knew he was sitting at a metal table in a small room with no windows. It looked like he assumed a police interrogation room might look, based on his impressions from television, but there was no mirror and he couldn't see any other sort of surveillance system.
One of Paul's arms was handcuffed (or otherwise tied - he couldn't actually see it) to the back of his chair. It was, incidentally, a very uncomfortable chair, made of metal or plastic or some other material that makes you feel as though there is no padding between your bones and the seat. His other hand was cuffed - if that's the
right word - to the table with one of those plastic zip-ties that he was pretty sure cops and maybe soldiers carried. His head felt very heavy and he couldn't turn it properly. It crossed his mind that he might have been drugged, but he wasn't sure what that would feel like.
He was pretty sure that people on drugs had hallucinations, but he wasn't sure what those were like, either.
Paul blinked and suddenly there was a man standing at the other side of the table. Now Paul was certain he'd been drugged. Either he had blacked out and the man had come into the room, or the man was a hallucination. Paul squinted his eyes in an attempt to focus better.
The man's gun looked real enough. He wasn't sure what kind it was. It looked like something from a Sci-Fi movie, but for all Paul knew, that's what all guns looked like. He wasn't exactly an expert.
He tried to ask the man where he was, but his mouth was dry and no sound came from it. He cleared his throat, because he wasn't sure what else to do, and managed to croak out something along the lines of, "May I have a glass of water?"
His vision became blurry again and, wondering if perhaps he needed glasses, he blinked a few times again.
Now there was a woman standing next to the man. She looked familiar, though Paul was certain they had never met.
Placing her hands on the table, she leaned toward Paul and said something, but now his ears weren't working properly either and he thought he heard wind blowing, or the ocean, like when you put a conch shell to your ear.
"I'm sorry?"
She leaned closer. "I said..."
"Can you understand me? Is the translator operating?"
Paul blinked. This day was becoming stranger and stranger. When the woman had spoken, he had heard her ask in English, but also slightly speak in German. Additionally, her mouth had not quite been in sync with the English he had heard. It was very similar to seeing someone on television who spoke a foreign language and hearing the translation spoken over it. All the while, the ocean wind noise was faintly whispering in his ear.
In a state of shock, Paul simply asked, "Translator?"
The woman, who must have been wearing her own translator - or who understood English - nodded and tapped her ear. Paul then noticed that something was in his own right ear. It felt like an earplug, but was, undoubtedly, a piece of machinery that was translating the conversation into English for him.
Paul thought all these thoughts, along with "Who are these people??" before realizing that the woman was again speaking and the machine was translating:
"...you will do best to answer my questions honestly. We do not know what connection, if any, you have with Fredrick Muller, but the fact that you were found in his apartment implies at least a casual relationship with that criminal."
Even though the translator did not convey much tone, it was obvious to Paul that this woman despised Fredrick Muller, whomever that was.
The woman went on, "My first question is - how do you not have any identification? Where is your mark?" She pulled up her sleeve, revealing her own bar code tattoo.
Paul swallowed, trying to get his bearings and determine exactly what he was going to say in response. The man with the gun made him nervous and he was confident that if he said the wrong thing, that he would end up a dead man.
"First," he said, "I do not know Fredrick Muller. The apartment you people pulled me out of was mine. You've obviously got the wrong person. As for identification, I have my driver's license at home in my..." the woman smacked him across the face, hard, silencing Paul.
She snarled, "Do not lie to me!" in German and the translator managed to chill Paul.
"How did you remove your identification?" she asked, yanking on Paul's free arm, looking again for his nonexistent bar code. "How?!"
Paul didn't know what to do, but didn't think that attempts at deceit would work with these people. Besides that, he didn't know what it was they wanted him to say, so he stuck with the truth. "I'm trying to tell you I've never had one!" he said in an exasperated tone.
The woman heard this in her translator and looked at Paul like he were crazy (Paul was beginning to think she might be onto something there). "That is not possible." she said flatly.
At that moment there was a knock on the door and another guard (Paul assumed, he had the look of a guard) entered and spoke to the woman. Paul's translator picked up the conversation and converted it to English for him, despite the fact that he probably wasn't meant to hear any of it. "Burr," (Paul at first thought the guard had said
"brr", but then quickly realized that 'Burr' was the woman's name - or title, perhaps), "there is something you must see."
"I am interrogating the suspect right now." Burr growled back. The guard said, "There is another like him. Another person with no identification. A Negro in his thirties. He only speaks English. He was found in district five, trying to break into someone's home. Schmidt has him in the other room and is requesting you come right away."
Burr looked at Paul and then at the guard. "Bring the other man in here. I will interrogate them both at the same time. Perhaps the lack of identification and the English language are not all these men have in common."
The guard nodded and left the room. Paul didn't think his request would be granted, but saw no major harm in asking - especially since he could now be understood - "May I get a drink of water, please? And perhaps a shirt?"
Burr considered Paul briefly, then said to the man with the gun, "Water. Shirt." The man nodded and left the room without a word.
At that time the other guard entered, forcing a scared looking black man in front of him. He looked at Paul and seemed to draw several conclusions quite quickly. "They arrest you, too?" he asked Paul. Paul nodded, afraid to say anything aloud, but inside he was ecstatic to hear another person speaking his native tongue. The black man was forced into a chair beside Paul, and the guard with the gun said to Burr, "I'll go get a translator for him." The black man said, "I told you! I don't speak German. No shpreckin the Deutsch!" Paul smiled in spite of himself. He liked this man.
Burr frowned. "Tell your friend to shut up," she ordered Paul, "or I will kill him."
Paul had no doubt she would do it, either. He said to the man, "Hi. I'm Paul. Paul Washington. That woman there? She's in charge. Don't piss her off. Right now she doesn't want you to talk. I suggest you listen to her."
"Huh." the man replied. Then to Paul, "Oh. My name is Derrick. Derr..." but at that moment Burr smacked Derrick across the face.
Derrick leapt up and was going to retaliate, but Burr kneed the middle aged man in the groin, dropping him instantly. "I told you to tell him not to speak." she said coldly to Paul. Paul simply gaped at the whole scene, unable to help Derrick up, since he was still handcuffed to his chair.
The other guard returned at that moment with a glass of water and a light blue shirt for Paul. The shirt was tossed into Paul's lap, the glass of water was put in his free hand.
Derrick slowly got back up and sat in his chair. The guard took that opportunity to handcuff his arm. Derrick didn't object - at least verbally - but Paul knew he wasn't happy about this development. This guard also had a translator and he placed it in Derrick's ear.
Burr asked Derrick if he could understand her, if his translator was working and to simply nod if the answer was yes. Derrick nodded.
"Good." Burr said. "Now we will begin to get some answers...
"First, you will tell me why you were breaking into a district five house."
There was a half second pause before Derrick answered, in which Paul could see him swallow all manner of emotion. He had a fire in him, and Paul could tell that he wanted to let it out. But that hit to the face seemed to have sobered him pretty well. When he spoke, it was in a low and even voice.
"Like I told your boys when they came up behind me, it was my house I was getting into. I was not breaking in. My key was stuck."
It was hard to tell from her face what Burr made of this answer. Then she smiled.
"You certainly cannot expect me to believe that ... one of your kind ... has a home in district five."
"That so?" Derrick bit out.
Burr continued to smile. "So were you there for stealing, or were you sent to terrorize our good citizens?"
Oh how Paul understood (as much as he understood anything) what was going on behind his new friend's bewildered face. If he was that - "friend" was an appropriate word for a guy you instinctively trust in an utterly foreign situation - right? Paul wondered idly when the Germans would leave them alone so they could make sense of everything and ... maybe make a masterful escape? Somehow, he didn't that was
going to happen. He had to do his best with these unnerving guards staring him down. It was like trying to solve a crossword puzzle with a bomb counting down. They both had to play their hands well. "But our hands are tied," he thought ridiculously. What was Derrick going to say?
He wouldn't get to know, it seemed. The door opened again, and again, an urgent message was calling Burr to the door. Paul strained to hear the hushed tones, and he saw Burr's eyes narrow.
"...Jackson."
"Huh?" Derrick had whispered to him.
"Jackson," he repeated. "The other half of my name."
"Oh." Paul smiled. He pushed down the urge to laugh. He felt a little crazy.
"SO!"
The harsh, reverberating syllable brought Paul back to reality (assuming that word fit).
"Separate them!" Burr barked. She was smiling again. Maniacally.
The two guards swooped down on Derrick. One of them cut the band around his wrist. Derrick's eyes were painfully wide as they pulled him from the room. So much for company.
The woman was approaching him again.
"Now we have you," she said.
"You do?" said Paul, blankly. He had given up all illusion that he could control this situation.
"The phone call to the apartment..." she began.
The phone call to the apartment.
"...was traced from your friend's house."
A deafening noise from outside the room followed this pronouncement, as Burr glared at him, unblinking.
"I swear I don't..." Paul started to object, convinced that it would do him absolutely no good. These people didn't listen to reason, they wouldn't listen to the truth, and Paul didn't even know what the hell the truth was anymore. But it didn't matter, and Paul didn't get to finish his declaration because another loud boom interrupted him, this one much closer. It was accompanied by the smell of smoke and the sound of panicked screams of anguish and confusion. Burr had turned to face the door when it exploded inward.
Paul screamed and attempted to hide himself underneath the table. His arm was still handcuffed to the chair and his wrist was cut badly as a result. Burr had been knocked backward from the explosion, but was regaining her composure quickly. She pulled a gun (Paul wasn't sure what type, but it was small enough to have been concealed earlier) and fired into the smoke that was pouring into the interrogation room. Paul closed his eyes and so he did not see the number of people who came into the room, and he did not see the shot that hit Burr in the abdomen. When he opened his eyes, there were three strangers in the room and Burr was lying beside him with a bullet wound in her gut, possibly dead.
One of the men reached into Burr's pocket, pulled out the keys to the cuffs, and tossed them to the man standing above Paul. He unlocked Paul's chains and offered his hand to Paul. Part of Paul's mind that wanted to retreat to a fantasy land thought, "Now he'll say 'Come with me if you want to live', just like in the Terminator movies."
The man did speak, then, but he did not quote Arnold Schwarzenneger. Instead, he spoke in German, and the translator whispered in Paul's ear, "Paul Washington, my name is Fredrick Muller. We don't have much time."
November Mileage
January - 730
February - 1357.8
March - 872.4
April - 1056.9
May - 278.3 (car, which is currently not running); 486.6 (minivan) --total for May is 764.9
June - car = 0.0; minivan = 1489.6
July - car = 0.0; minivan =1796.3
August - car = 0.0; minivan = 944.6
September - car = 0.1; minivan = 1725.3 - total for Sept. is 1725.4
October - car - 0.0; minivan - 1283.9
November - car = 0.0; minivan - 703.6
Year to date - 12,725.4
February - 1357.8
March - 872.4
April - 1056.9
May - 278.3 (car, which is currently not running); 486.6 (minivan) --total for May is 764.9
June - car = 0.0; minivan = 1489.6
July - car = 0.0; minivan =1796.3
August - car = 0.0; minivan = 944.6
September - car = 0.1; minivan = 1725.3 - total for Sept. is 1725.4
October - car - 0.0; minivan - 1283.9
November - car = 0.0; minivan - 703.6
Year to date - 12,725.4
Come together...
I don't know what effect this will truly have on the world, but, hey, it can't hurt.
Buh-log-ing.
Well, huh.
And of related interest (and what I was originally going to link to before discovering the above posted "quiz" from Annika's blog) is this article from the Las Vegas Weekly about blogging. I disagree with bits of it, agree with other parts, and mostly just found it kinda...well, like a blog entry. Not really important in the scheme of things. [shrug]
Today is the end of November, which means the end of NaNoBlogMore. I somehow managed to post every day for the past 30 days, so I guess that's something. I seriously think that I am going to take December off, though. I've got a few more posts in me for today (the mileage, another link, and a really long post that will hopefully garner some interaction) and then I'll see you all in 07.
If I'm really lucky, Blogger will be able to upgrade me by then.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
buttons pushed
Someone pushed the Winter button. (Tonight's low is going to be 27. Which, granted, isn't as cold as some [most] parts of the country, but this is Nevada. It never gets this cold this early in the year.)
Someone pushed my Tired button. I overslept majorly this morning, and I am really very tired now, too.
And now i'm going to push the Publish Post button, because I can't think of anything else to mention.
Someone pushed my Tired button. I overslept majorly this morning, and I am really very tired now, too.
And now i'm going to push the Publish Post button, because I can't think of anything else to mention.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
a little bit from column a, a little bit from column b.
sometimes I despise myself.
sometimes I am so damn impressed with myself that I marvel that people aren't on their knees when i walk into a room.
(usually it's a compromise between the two extremes)
sometimes I know exactly what I want to say.
Sometimes I have no freaking clue.
(usually, regardless, I have a difficult time actually expressing it.)
sometimes the future looks very bleak, other times it looks quite optimistic, the truth is a mixture of the two, but my outlook flip-flops.
soemtimes i cant' spell or use grammar very goodly.
ahh, life. it's (un)predicatable and wild.
sometimes I am so damn impressed with myself that I marvel that people aren't on their knees when i walk into a room.
(usually it's a compromise between the two extremes)
sometimes I know exactly what I want to say.
Sometimes I have no freaking clue.
(usually, regardless, I have a difficult time actually expressing it.)
sometimes the future looks very bleak, other times it looks quite optimistic, the truth is a mixture of the two, but my outlook flip-flops.
soemtimes i cant' spell or use grammar very goodly.
ahh, life. it's (un)predicatable and wild.
Monday, November 27, 2006
homestretch
If this post were being made on Steph's blog, it would be labeled with the "This Post Refuses to be Labeled" label.
Also, it would be funnier.
You know what's really ...weird? Memory. How the hell does the brain record things - record everything - and filter it all and have it stored for recollection? Does the brain have storage limits? I would suspect that it must, and I'm tempted to quote Homer here, but at the same time, your brain would have to continue to remember stuff if it went on existing, right?
I mean, if we could somehow keep a brain alive forever - say hooked up to a machine ala many sci-fi stories - and keep it constantly stimulated with experiences, wouldn't it just continue to remember the events it witnessed in case such memories needed to be played back?
And I know that a lot of stuff (everything??) is stored in the subconcious, but doesn't that have limits too?
If we took our hypothetical brain and taught it 1 new word everyday, how long would it take before it could not recall the first word that it was taught?
Or maybe I'm thinking of memory (and memory storage) incorrectly and the computer analogy is not right. Or helpful.
Maybe memory is like a body of water - an ocean or a really big lake (or a pond, ha ha ha) - and we're constantly swimming in it as we remember past experiences, but at the same time, it's raining, which is adding drops of water to the overall amount of water to swim in. Since memories in this case would be liquid, they would all flow together - how does one keep track of a single drop of water in a lake - and that would explain why some memories are difficult to bring back to your mind - they're deeper in the water. Also, it would go a ways toward explaining why sometimes something you've not thought about for ages suddenly comes rushing back to you - the water has been stirred up enough to bring those drops of memory back to the surface.
I don't know.
In other news, the internet can be an incredibly frightening, depressing, and infuriating place. I'd link to what I'm talking about, but it's not worth it. Plus, I'm sure you can find your own examples.
In other other news, 99 Red Balloons is hilarious, and sad. I mean, the army overreacts to a bunch of balloons, and destroys the world, and then the singer starts the whole thing over again because she's in mourning over her friend having been killed in the attack. Um. Unless I'm interpretting that wrongly. Which might be the case. But my point still stands.
Also, it would be funnier.
You know what's really ...weird? Memory. How the hell does the brain record things - record everything - and filter it all and have it stored for recollection? Does the brain have storage limits? I would suspect that it must, and I'm tempted to quote Homer here, but at the same time, your brain would have to continue to remember stuff if it went on existing, right?
I mean, if we could somehow keep a brain alive forever - say hooked up to a machine ala many sci-fi stories - and keep it constantly stimulated with experiences, wouldn't it just continue to remember the events it witnessed in case such memories needed to be played back?
And I know that a lot of stuff (everything??) is stored in the subconcious, but doesn't that have limits too?
If we took our hypothetical brain and taught it 1 new word everyday, how long would it take before it could not recall the first word that it was taught?
Or maybe I'm thinking of memory (and memory storage) incorrectly and the computer analogy is not right. Or helpful.
Maybe memory is like a body of water - an ocean or a really big lake (or a pond, ha ha ha) - and we're constantly swimming in it as we remember past experiences, but at the same time, it's raining, which is adding drops of water to the overall amount of water to swim in. Since memories in this case would be liquid, they would all flow together - how does one keep track of a single drop of water in a lake - and that would explain why some memories are difficult to bring back to your mind - they're deeper in the water. Also, it would go a ways toward explaining why sometimes something you've not thought about for ages suddenly comes rushing back to you - the water has been stirred up enough to bring those drops of memory back to the surface.
I don't know.
In other news, the internet can be an incredibly frightening, depressing, and infuriating place. I'd link to what I'm talking about, but it's not worth it. Plus, I'm sure you can find your own examples.
In other other news, 99 Red Balloons is hilarious, and sad. I mean, the army overreacts to a bunch of balloons, and destroys the world, and then the singer starts the whole thing over again because she's in mourning over her friend having been killed in the attack. Um. Unless I'm interpretting that wrongly. Which might be the case. But my point still stands.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
I, III, V, and X
So we just returned home from Steph's mom's house where we had a 3 hour game of Risk with Steph and her brothers. We didn't finish the game all the way, but it was a foregone conclusion that Steph's army (aka Green Mama, aka Green Peace, aka Gang Green) was going to wipe out the last two forces in her way. Namely me (the Black Death or Black Plague) and Sean (the Blue Bombers), so we called it early.
Although who knows how that fight between Ural and Irktusk would've turned out. I mean, really.
Good times were had by all. I had originally planned on giving a fuller description of the night's game, but it's pretty late now, and I (unfortunately) have to wake up early tomorrow, so that'll have to do. Anyway, now that Steph knows how to play Risk (OBVIOUSLY!), I hope that we can play here at home more. Although I don't know how much she actually enjoyed the game, and more just kind of kicked ass and took names.
Although who knows how that fight between Ural and Irktusk would've turned out. I mean, really.
Good times were had by all. I had originally planned on giving a fuller description of the night's game, but it's pretty late now, and I (unfortunately) have to wake up early tomorrow, so that'll have to do. Anyway, now that Steph knows how to play Risk (OBVIOUSLY!), I hope that we can play here at home more. Although I don't know how much she actually enjoyed the game, and more just kind of kicked ass and took names.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
These will never stop being funny
I don't feel like blogging right now, so instead, some YouTube clips. These are three pop culture moments that never fail to make me laugh.
First, from Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy:
"That's how I roll!!"
And, from Invader Zim:
And Eddie Izzard:
First, from Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy:
"That's how I roll!!"
And, from Invader Zim:
And Eddie Izzard:
Friday, November 24, 2006
So much to blog about!
It's like a cornucopia of blog topics!
1) For the past week or so, Blogger has had a display at my dashboard claiming that "my blog is ready for the switch to the beta version", which, as I've mentioned before, I have been wanting to upgrade to forever.
But.
Whenever I attempt to switch to it, I get a nice huge error message saying, "COULD NOT SWITCH TO BETA."
Which is it, Blogger? I mean, obviously, it's that I can't, but if that's the case, why tease me with the false promise of being able to upgrade? It's just cruel.
Anyway, it helps to make blogging a really negative experience, and I'm sure that my posts the last few [whatevers] have reflected that.
2) In much happier news, today is the 10 year anniversary of when Stephanie and I first met in person! Holy time pass, Batman! It's amazing that ten years have flown by this quickly.
Ten years ago, I was 21, had jet-black hair (dyed a few weeks prior because I was still young, stupid, and had expendable cash flow), weighed at least 15 pounds less than I do now, was working at KFBT, and had no car.
3) To celebrate, we had our Thanksgiving dinner tonight, rather than yesterday. Steph made a turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, biscuits, corn, salad, cranberry sauce, lasagna, and sparkling apple cider. Yumola! Plus, there is pumpkin pie (yuck) and apple pie (yum!) for dessert coming up. Feastolicious!
4) We have a kitten in our house again. The neighborhood kids across the way found a kitten - probably only three or four weeks old - at the park. They knocked on our door and asked us if it was ours. They said that they could not take it to their house because they would get in trouble. So, rather than throw it back out "to the wolves" (Steph's words), we took it in so that we could feed, shelter, and bathe it, and then tomorrow put up signs and/or offer it up on Freecycle. Steph is currently taking pictures of said animal, and I'm sure she'll blog about it eventually, so as is always the case, check her blog for a more detailed, more amusing and more worthwhile entry on the matter.
5) I don't think that there is anything else. The plan for the rest of the night is to play Trivial Pursuit and have pie. Good times.
1) For the past week or so, Blogger has had a display at my dashboard claiming that "my blog is ready for the switch to the beta version", which, as I've mentioned before, I have been wanting to upgrade to forever.
But.
Whenever I attempt to switch to it, I get a nice huge error message saying, "COULD NOT SWITCH TO BETA."
Which is it, Blogger? I mean, obviously, it's that I can't, but if that's the case, why tease me with the false promise of being able to upgrade? It's just cruel.
Anyway, it helps to make blogging a really negative experience, and I'm sure that my posts the last few [whatevers] have reflected that.
2) In much happier news, today is the 10 year anniversary of when Stephanie and I first met in person! Holy time pass, Batman! It's amazing that ten years have flown by this quickly.
Ten years ago, I was 21, had jet-black hair (dyed a few weeks prior because I was still young, stupid, and had expendable cash flow), weighed at least 15 pounds less than I do now, was working at KFBT, and had no car.
3) To celebrate, we had our Thanksgiving dinner tonight, rather than yesterday. Steph made a turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, biscuits, corn, salad, cranberry sauce, lasagna, and sparkling apple cider. Yumola! Plus, there is pumpkin pie (yuck) and apple pie (yum!) for dessert coming up. Feastolicious!
4) We have a kitten in our house again. The neighborhood kids across the way found a kitten - probably only three or four weeks old - at the park. They knocked on our door and asked us if it was ours. They said that they could not take it to their house because they would get in trouble. So, rather than throw it back out "to the wolves" (Steph's words), we took it in so that we could feed, shelter, and bathe it, and then tomorrow put up signs and/or offer it up on Freecycle. Steph is currently taking pictures of said animal, and I'm sure she'll blog about it eventually, so as is always the case, check her blog for a more detailed, more amusing and more worthwhile entry on the matter.
5) I don't think that there is anything else. The plan for the rest of the night is to play Trivial Pursuit and have pie. Good times.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
best in show
TV's been on pretty much all day. We watched the 80th Annual Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, which was, um, paradey.
After it ended, there was some crazy dog show on. We left it on and did other things, but, man dog shows are a strange thing.
When the Toy Poodle won Best in Show, my cynical (and hilarious) reaction was, "It's fixed!". Steph was just upset that that bitch won.
Next on was Babe which we had never seen before, but I was just yesterday considering adding it to our quueeue. Now I don't have to! That'll do, pig.
In other news, I was thinking that Jesus would be a great person to invite over for dinner. I mean, water into wine? Making fish and bread just magically appear? That dude rocks!
After it ended, there was some crazy dog show on. We left it on and did other things, but, man dog shows are a strange thing.
When the Toy Poodle won Best in Show, my cynical (and hilarious) reaction was, "It's fixed!". Steph was just upset that that bitch won.
Next on was Babe which we had never seen before, but I was just yesterday considering adding it to our quueeue. Now I don't have to! That'll do, pig.
In other news, I was thinking that Jesus would be a great person to invite over for dinner. I mean, water into wine? Making fish and bread just magically appear? That dude rocks!
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
monkey monkey monkey monkey monkey
The movie Curious George was watched by the girls today. I only caught the last half-ish of it, but was pleasantly surprised. It's not a bad movie at all. Plus, the word "monkey" is said more times, I think, than in any other movie ever. And "monkey" is a great word. More movies should say it more often.
Today feels like a Friday.
Yesterday I was going to write a big long blog entry about taking a stand in matters, but then it got late and I got tired and it just wasn't worth it. Which is an ironic thing for me to say, because that is a big part of what the (hypothetical) entry was about. When do you stand up for things and when is it not worth it?
Oddly, as I age, I find that it's "not worth it" as much as I used to. Or maybe I'm just more cowardly as I get older. [shrug] I don't even know if I'm making sense.
In other news completely, Blogger still hates me. Frickin' Blogger. Lying to me every single day about the betaversion. Oh well. Some day, I suppose.
Eh. I feel like I'm forgetting something semi-important but the chord just isnt' being struck right now, so I guess it's not that vital.
In conclusion, monkey!!
Today feels like a Friday.
Yesterday I was going to write a big long blog entry about taking a stand in matters, but then it got late and I got tired and it just wasn't worth it. Which is an ironic thing for me to say, because that is a big part of what the (hypothetical) entry was about. When do you stand up for things and when is it not worth it?
Oddly, as I age, I find that it's "not worth it" as much as I used to. Or maybe I'm just more cowardly as I get older. [shrug] I don't even know if I'm making sense.
In other news completely, Blogger still hates me. Frickin' Blogger. Lying to me every single day about the betaversion. Oh well. Some day, I suppose.
Eh. I feel like I'm forgetting something semi-important but the chord just isnt' being struck right now, so I guess it's not that vital.
In conclusion, monkey!!
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Monday, November 20, 2006
um...no.
Disturbed (or is it there no "e", I forget? Disturbd? I could wiki it up, but it's not worth it. The band sucks regardless of how they spell it.) has made a cover of Genesis' "Land of Confusion".
Just...no.
And now I just saw a trailer for a remake of Charlotte's Web that appears to be very CGI-influenced.
There are rumors (or maybe it's fact now) of:
Indiana Jones 4 (mixed feelings on that one)
A Battlestar Galactica prequel series (I haven't even watched the current series! Why go and make a prequel??)
A "next generation" type of series for V. (My inner child really liked V, but I suspect that a) it woldn't hold up to viewings now and b) that an updated series is not really needed)
And definitely on the way (but by no means necessary):
A 5th (6th?? I lost count) Rocky movie.
Oceans 13 (didn't Oceans 12 bomb??)
A 4th Die Hard movie (Die Hard, Die Harder, Die Hardest, Die Hard infinity!)
Interactive time! What remakes/sequels/prequels are you currently dreading/fearing/shaking your head in disbelief over?
Just...no.
And now I just saw a trailer for a remake of Charlotte's Web that appears to be very CGI-influenced.
There are rumors (or maybe it's fact now) of:
Indiana Jones 4 (mixed feelings on that one)
A Battlestar Galactica prequel series (I haven't even watched the current series! Why go and make a prequel??)
A "next generation" type of series for V. (My inner child really liked V, but I suspect that a) it woldn't hold up to viewings now and b) that an updated series is not really needed)
And definitely on the way (but by no means necessary):
A 5th (6th?? I lost count) Rocky movie.
Oceans 13 (didn't Oceans 12 bomb??)
A 4th Die Hard movie (Die Hard, Die Harder, Die Hardest, Die Hard infinity!)
Interactive time! What remakes/sequels/prequels are you currently dreading/fearing/shaking your head in disbelief over?
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