WWdN: In Exile

faithfully recreating prince edward island

After a long historical walking tour of Charlottetown, a stop for lunch and World Cup viewing at a fantastic pub (where I had my first Guinness in four days -- I was beginning to have withdrawl) we made our way to the Cows Ice Cream shop.

At Cows, they make great cones as well as sell all sorts of bovine-theamed parody merchandise, like Desperate Cowswives or SpongeBob Cowpants, and it was highly recommended by a couple CruiseTrekkers who have done this route before.

I stood at the counter, and looked at the buckets of ice cream spread out in the cooler in front of me. I remembered those days when I was too little to see into the average ice cream cooler, even if I stood on my tip-toes, and ordered something called chocolate mud. I didn't know exactly what it was, but it looked too chocolately and totally awesome to pass up.

"Would you like that in a cone?" The girl behind the counter said.

"Sure," I said. "A waffle cone would be great."

She pointed to a cone that had been dipped in chocolate, then in rainbow sprinkles.

"Dipped or regular?"

"Regular, please."

Look, I love chocolate, but even I have my limits.

She began to scoop my cone, and one of her co-workers, a teenage boy with a mouthful of braces and rubber bands -- a little geeky but clearly in the good way -- said, "You'd better be careful, he's blogging this."

"How did he know I'm a blogger? Did he recognize me from something and he knows about my blog?" I thought. Then I realized, I'm wearing my black "I'm Blogging This" T-shirt from Think Geek.

"Yes," I laughed. "I will be immediately running to the Internets to faithfully recreate every detail of our transaction, cleverly noting the things which please and displease me, for I am a blogger! Fear my mighty XML!"

He cracked up, I cracked up, and she looked at us like we were speaking a different language, which we were. I took my cone, and managed to get some of the ice cream into my mouth before it dripped down my face an all over my arms. Some things never change, I guess.

On my way back to to the ship to write this, I had grand visions of "faithfully recreating" the experience on my blog, including the flying robots and monsters I totally gunned-down Chuck Norris-style without dripping any of my cone on the ground, but while I was jotting notes down in my book, some ninjas grabbed me and spirited me away to a cave in the mountains, where they forced me to reconfigure their underwater lasergun missile base before they'd let me go. They also took my notebook from me, and tore out all my pages about Prince Edward Island, because that's how Canadian Ninjas roll, apparently.

I'm having an amazingly good time on this cruise. I'm having so much fun, in fact, that I would rather just experience the fun and really enjoy every moment, rather that moderately detach from everything and observe it, so I can note and record all my experiences to write about them later. I have lots of pictures, though, and I'm jotting notes in a notebook, so maybe I'll have some SpongeBob Vegaspants-esque saga to write up when I get home.

Gotta go. I'm sure I'm missing something cool right now.

In my head, the time didn't make a ripple

I owe an entry about my reading at The Magical Blend, but that's a story that's taking a little longer to write, so I can faithfully recreate it. Until then . . .

Man, I just love this city, and all the people in it.

Today, I stood in a church in Old Montreal and watched three opera singers rehearse something written by Mozart, while a small orchestra played in front of them. A conductor directed them while he walked around the entire church to hear them from different parts of the room.

It was so amazing, and even though it was a rehearsal, it was incredibly beautiful. It grabbed that thing in my brains that makes me an actor, and really buzzed it. I mean, each of these people -- from the singers, to the conductor, to the people playing the instruments -- was incredibly talented in their own right, and individually, they could create something wonderful just by picking up whatever their instrument was (whether it is a viola, their own voice, or their ability to direct them both) and working with it. But when they were joined together with music written by one of the greatest composers in history, they created something magical.

I could have sat there and just absorbed it for hours. If you're in Montreal and know what I'm talking about (I didn't get a chance to write down the address, sorry) you should check it out.

After the tour of Old Montreal (which included lunch at that classic French Canadian cafe Subway) I rode the Metro -- which is awesome -- to the Montreal Botanical Garden.

I thought I'd seen huge botanical gardens, including the LA County Arboretum and Huntington Library, but holyshitthisplaceishuge. It's designed to encourage visitors to just wander around and discover all the different areas that are there, including an amazing Japanese and Chinese garden, that have to be seen to be believed. Luckily for me, I took some pictures that can describe them far better than I ever could. (I guess flickr has decided that I'm no longer pro, so they're not in a nifty little set until my eCheck clears. Dammit.)

My dogs started barkin' shortly after I explored the Japanese Garden, so I reluctantly made my way back to the Metro, and eventually back to my hotel, just in time to throw on a clean shirt and head downstairs to the CruiseTrek banquet.

Tomorrow, we set sail. More to come . . .

via chicago

Greetings from Montreal!

I got here two hours late, but all things considered, this was a fantastic day of travel. Seriously, from the moment I left the house this morning, everything that could go wrong didn't, and whenever something was borderline . . . well, to use a poker metaphor: I won all my races.

The skies were mostly clear and smooth, it turns out I'm really good at Hot Shots Golf on PSP, and when my flight to O'Hare was delayed enough to cause me to miss my connection, the gods saw fit to delay everything that had anything to do with O'Hare, including my plane to Montreal, so I made it with nearly an hour to spare. Once I landed here, it was a breeze to fly through customs and immigration, the weather is great, and even though my hotel doesn't have room service this late, the front desk gave me a menu for a local restaurant that delivers for free. I have a pizza and a salad on the way. Oh, and the Internets? They are here, and they are free. Sweet.

Now, I'm going to prepare my reading for The Magical Blend tomorrow, and see if I can get to sleep at a reasonable time.   

Oh! Pizza is here, and there's even Bass in the mini bar.

Yeah. Life is good.

and, breathe.

I bolted from my bed at nine this morning, a full hour longer than I wanted to sleep. I was in the kitchen making breakfast before I was entirely awake, but somehow managed to keep the eggshells out of the waffles.

Feeding four teenage boys is like feeding twelve adults, but I managed to feed both of mine plus their two friends with minimal hassle and a little boost from my good friend Peet. Well, Peet's coffee, to be more accurate.

I began the process of pulling my clothes out of my drawers and closet, hoping that I had enough socks and underwear for a twelve day trip (I do) and that I could successfully triage what clothes were appropriate for the "Casual Elegance" the cruise brochures keep talking about. You know, there was a time in my life when I hated getting dressed up, then there was a time when I really liked it. Today? I kind of hate it, because it involves bringing an extra pair of shoes (total: 4 pair. Call me Imelda) and getting out that one suit I own, which I always wear under duress. Oh, sure, I can pull off a suit, but I always feel like I'm playing dress up, rather than actually dressing up, if that makes any sense.

Selecting my really geeky T-shirts was much more fun, and I realized that my wardrobe is essentially one huge shipment from Think Geek. Somehow, I managed to land myself a wife who is not only hot, smart, and puts up with me, but is also cool with the fact that her 33 year-old husband would rather wear the <geek> shirt, or The Shirt, than the stuff the rest of our adult friends wear.

I also realized, as I stood there in my bedroom, my dogs looking sadly at me from atop the bed (Riley) and leaning against my leg (Ferris), that I've been so stressed out because I'm so bi-polar about taking long trips: I absolutely love to see the world, and I can't wait to see how these two Eventful events work out -- to say nothing about how amazing the cruise is going to be -- but at the same time, I miss my dogs, and I miss my family, and my house, and my garden, and my bed, and even that spot in my back yard that keeps trying to die. I, uh, guess this is a pretty good problem to have, isn't it? I'm not complaining, just puzzling out why I'm not jumping for joy 24 hours before my plane takes off. I would have felt much less freaked if I'd started my packing a few days ago, but doing that seems to hasten my departure, and forces me to face the reality of being away from home.

Around noon today, while I was out trying to find some shorts (because I discovered, the day before I leave for the goddamn cruise that I have two pair of shorts, and neither of them are in good enough shape for polite company), Anne called to remind me that the kids both had dentist appointments at 3.

"You didn't forget, did you?"

"Uh, of course not." I said, phone tucked between my shoulder and ear, as I tried to decide between the green shorts and the blue ones.

"Okay, good. You're so freaked out, I thought it may fly out of your mind."

I decided on the blue ones, because I could wear them with my oh-so-ironic orange Wheaties shirt. I could probably wear the green ones, too, I realize now, but I'm more of a blue shorts kinda guy, because it's hip to be square.

"Yeah, just as soon as I pay here, I have to . . ." I looked at my list, and read off everything left on it.

"Oh crap," she said. "You'd better get going, and I need to sweep up before my next haircut gets here."

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you, too."

I shoved my phone in my pocket and let the panic monkey out of his cage, but just for a minute. On the same auto-pilot that got the houseful of kids fed this morning, I finished all of my errands over the next two hours, dropped Nolan and his friend at the pool, took Ryan to drop off some important project at his school, so he gets a good grade in one of his classes, and had them both at the dentist in time for their cleaning.

While I sat in the waiting room, I tried to read a magazine, but I just couldn't focus; I felt like I was going to pass out, and realized that I hadn't eaten a single thing all day. Even when I'd made breakfast, and put the leftovers in the fridge, I forgot to feed myself. It's been like that the last couple of days.

I pulled myself out of the chair and walked down the street to get a taco, which my stomach is currently reminding me was probably not the best thing to put into it, when it had only had coffee in it all day.

After the kids were done (no cavities. score!) we headed home, and I further triaged my clothes. My goal was to eliminate 25% of the T-shirts, and at least 10% of the other shirts, and though it came down to a very difficult decision, I ultimately left "Choose Your Weapon" at home, in favor of my Earnest Borg9 Multigalactic Tour shirt, which is much more appropriate for this trip, anyway.

I remembered to eat dinner, and I've gotten myself entirely packed up into just two bags plus my backpack, with minimal cussing. I've gone over all my lists, and double checked everything, and I'm 99% sure I haven't overlooked anything, even though Ferris hasn't left my side since the suitcases came out of the garage, and she realized that dad is going on a trip. She must know I'm writing about her, because she just sighed heavily and rolled over to rest her head on my foot.

I can't believe it's already here. I can't believe that when I get back, I'm only home for a week before I head right back onto the road again, for most of July at the WSOP.

The car comes in eight hours. I hope I can sleep for some of them.

workin' for a livin' with the power of love while i'm happy to be stuck with you

Please disregard the title of this entry. I'm just fucking with the Huey Lewis fans now. Yeah, that's right. I've just picked a fight with nine people I've never met, because that's just how I roll.

Okay. I'm dangerously close to losing my shit, thanks to the pressure I'm under to hit deadlines and get my crap in order before I leave for CruiseTrek on Wednesday morning, instead of Wednesday night like I had it in my head. I always get a little anxious before I travel, and I really miss my family and my dogs while I'm gone, so I'm kind of a bitch right now.

A couple of FAQs that I wanted to clarify before I left, about the signing in Montreal on Thursday:

• I'm not attending the Serenity screening. As much as I love Firefly, and as fun as that would be, I can see a movie anywhere and anytime. It's not every day that I'm in a beautiful city like Montreal (I've only been there once, when I worked on Sirens back in the 1500s) and I'd like to see as much of it as I can before I get on a big boat. I just want to be very clear, so everyone knows what to expect and isn't disappointed.
• You can buy copies of both my books at the store to be signed, though that's not a requirement, especially if you've already purchased a book of your own. To be clear: this is a free event, so if you just want to come and listen, or see if it's true that I'm actually 7'3" in person, it's not going to cost you anything to get in.
• I'm also happy to sign anything you bring, within reason. If you've got one or two things, that's great, but if you have a pile of pictures or Star Trek items, we're going to have a problem. Or maybe not. The store may decide to limit items, anyway, just to keep things moving. Again, I'm being honest and up-front about this so everyone knows what to expect. I'm also entirely aware that I sound like a huge dick by so bluntly declaring my limits, but like I wrote above: I'm very close to losing my shit, and I'm a bitch right now.
• Huey Lewis fans will not be admitted unless they're wearing a thin leather tie. MC Hammer pants are optional.[1]
• If the store is cool with it, you can record and distribute my performance, as long as you do it under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License. In fact, I think it would be incredibly cool if someone was able to make this happen, and put it on YouTube or Google Video or something.

For everyone else who can't make it to either event, I'll do my very best to keep my blog updated from the road. I'll have access to the Internets on the ship, but I don't know how reliable/fast/affordable it is, and since I'm kind of going to be on a cruise, the last thing I want to do is tie myself to the damn Internets, you know?

I will be out of the WWdN poker tourneys at PokerStars this week and next week, too. I just have too much stuff to do between now and Wednesday morning, and I'll be on a boat next week, possibly playing live poker with real chips. Man, that's going to be weird.

Okay, back to panicking about packing and making deadlines and crap. Thanks for putting up with my shit-losing-kinda-bitchy evil twin. I should be back to normal on Thursday.

[1] Not really. Of course, all are welcome, and I'm just having a bit of fun. If any of you Huey Lewis uberfans are in attendance, I'll even do the super-secret HLATN handshake with you. You know that one, right?

fore!

Hey, I wonder how many Huey Lewis fans are going to be disappointed when Google sends them to this entry? I'm thinking it will be 9.

Anyway . . .

In this week's Games of our Lives, I looked at Golf on the NES. I'm trying to include more NES games, but they're really hard to get my hands on (even via emulation.) I can't wait for the Wii to come out, so I'll have access to all sorts of great old console games!

Here's my absolute favorite line in the entire piece, which is in my top five things I've done for Games of our Lives:

Could be mistaken for: Uh, it's golf. If you mistake it for anything else, you need to spend a little less time in Bat Country.

Anyway, I absolutely loved this game, and spent countless hours playing it during my high school years, on the NES system I won in a Super Mario Brothers competition. Yeah, that's right, I rode the turtle trick to a massively high score, and won an NES system with a light gun, robot, and a ton of games. I haven't won many things in my life, but that one was sweet. In the same competition, my brother won a TV, so we combined our prizes for maximum staying in the bedroom with the Van Halen rocking and the video games and the flaven and the Nintendo thumb. Ga-hay.

That summer, Jeremy and I played hundreds of thousands of millions of hours of NES, mostly Metroid, Super Mario Brothers, Kung-Fu, and Wrecking Crew. Whenever I see or get to play one of those wonderful NES classics, I am sent back to the summer of 1987 or 1988 (it's all an 8-bit blur) when we'd stay up all night playing games, swim all day (talking about the games we were playing) and wondering if this new TV series I'd just started would be as cool as the original.

RIAA finds a new way to alienate its customers

The RIAA is sending C&Ds to kids who post videos of themselves dancing to music on YouTube, because the kids -- who are giving musicians free viral marketing -- haven't paid a license fee.

I have commentary on this at the GeekWire (SFW)

Update: Here's a great example of two kids who made a brilliant video of their own to The Pixies' Hey (There are some possibly NSFW video thumbnails on that page.) The RIAA thinks this is hurting The Pixies. Give me a break.

Technorati Tags: RIAA, YouTube

the sofa in san tropez

It's true. I'll never forget my meeting with Deathbot 9000. I even wrote about it in Just A Geek . . . though several details were changed to protect the guilty

It's already Wednesday?

I wanted to write about this earlier this week, but I couldn't make my words work the way I wanted, so I'm reduced to just stating this fact: Nolan tested for his purple belt in Tae Kwon Do on Saturday. Not only did he pass his test, he earned a gold medal from the judges for his form, and two trophies, including a trophy for best student. I'm very, very proud of him.

The quest to find and keep Balance is currently a success: Anne and I have found time to walk our dogs together at least every other day (but usually daily) , I've been able to jog at least two miles almost every day, I've found time to read almost every evening, and I'm managing my warm-ups for the WSOP well. Mind, Body, and Spirit feel closer to in Balance than they have in a long, long, time, and that's a great feeling. You know, it's kind of like distance running: it's tough to get into a groove, and the training, warming up, and first couple of miles can feel awkward, but once you find the zone, your legs just want to keep on going, and everything falls into place. (Until you hit the wall, of course, but I'm hoping to find a different metaphor before I get there.)

The only thing I haven't really had time for the last few days is writing narrative material for my blog, which is a drag because I yearn for the creative outlet, but there just isn't time right now, and if I try to force it, I just get frustrated.

Okay, before I get to work, a couple of World Cup thoughts:

• HDTV + World Cup = Crazy Delicious. I've been taking my Powerbook into
  the living room every morning and working from the couch while watching
  my favorite tournament in the world, in absolutely stunning HDTV.
• Team USA just looked terrible in their first match. Where was the team I've been watching qualify for the last two years? I hope that team shows up on Saturday.
• It really offended me that ESPN2 showed the American national anthem, then cut away for commercials and music videos during the Czech national anthem. That was so disrespectful, and so contrary to the spirit of this tournament, I hope a lot of people complained to them about it, and it doesn't happen again.
• Did you see Brazil yesterday? Those guys aren't human. I'm convinced they're football-playing perfect alien/robot hybrids. Watching that team work around the top of the box is like watching Eddie Van Halen rip out Eruption in 1980.

Okay, time to get off to work. If you want to read what I've been working on this week, head over to CardSquad, The AV Club, or The Geek Wire.

World Blogger Championship of Online Poker, Part Deux

As part of my training for the World Series of Poker, I've signed up for the World Blogger Championship of Online Poker. It's a completely free tournament that Poker Stars is running; all you have to do is have a blog, sign up, and put that following little bit of free advertising on your site (which isn't really advertising in my case, because I already play for Team PokerStars):

I have registered to play in the PokerStars World Blogger Championship of Online Poker!

This Online Poker Tournament is a No Limit Texas Holdem event exclusive to Bloggers.

Registration code: 6606056

This should draw a huge field of varying skill levels, which will make it very similar to the average WSOP event, so it will be perfect for me to try out some strategic choices I'm considering for World Series. If you've ever wanted to play in a big poker tournament, but you don't want to risk any of your own money, this is a great chance to see what it's like.