Worse than solitaire

Online Mad Libs. You'd really have to be the Mayor of Loserville to--huh? How did I find this? Um...

Someone sent it to me.

Pro Tools NY

Too bad this only works on the computer.

From the Pro Tools Version 6.7 Reference Guide:

Inserting Silence
The Insert Silence command is a simple and
convenient way to insert silence in sessions.
This command allows you to make a selection
on a track (or tracks) and insert precisely that
amount of silence.

Alpha

Oh, man:

The 2005 hurricane season officially became the worst in recorded history Saturday afternoon, as TD 25 strengthened to become Tropical Storm Alpha, the 22nd named storm of the year. With all the normal hurricane names used up, storms are now being named after the letters of the Greek alphabet.

Pigeon II

Dirty F. Pigeon brought his crew back. He's all like, "Stop Snitchin', human."

my roommate, chirp chirp

There is a small window in my bathroom, right by the toilet. (Try and imagine this while I'm not in there, please.) What a nasty window. It was open when I moved in, and it overlooks what is technically a courtyard but is really a 5 foot by 5 foot, 6-story-tall brick enclosure. It's coated in years of grime on the outside, and the inside is covered in the chunks of plaster that the renovators spilled all over the rest of the bathroom.

Anyway, it's right by the toilet, so I have to see it a few times a day. Just 'cause.

A pigeon made his roost on the outside windowsill. It's a tiny windowsill, so he's pressed up against the grimy glass. He never leaves. Sometimes I forget he's there, but he often...hmm...not a verb for this. You know that gurgly laughing noise pigeons do? No? You've never stuck your face that close to one or had one move in on the windowsill over your toilet?

That noise, he makes that noise. It's of the same genus as the vaguely onomatopoeic "flutter" and "burble."

He's always there. When I tap the glass, he doesn't even notice. I want him to fly away. He stays.

I gave him a name: Dirty F. Pigeon. When I happen to find myself, um, standing in front of the toilet, and he flutters his wings, and the tips of his wings rattle the window like a tiny birdie snare drum, I say, "Get the fuck out of here, Dirty F. Pigeon!!!"

Update:
Almost succeded in relocating Dirty F. Pigeon. Tapping--okay, flicking--the glass doesn't work. But if I rub something on the window (say, a paper towel with Windex on it), he flys away.

I just did this, and started getting ready for bed. Then I heard some serious rattling on my kitchen window. Damn it! Outsmarted by a pigeon. By Dirty F. Pigeon! Smartypigeon.

But I figured it out. I'm gonna make a scarepigeon! Mwaaaaahahahaha! Who's the smart one now, Pigeon?

The 4,000-Year-Old Joke

I saw The 40-Year-Old Virgin last night. Using the "I'll pay a buck a laugh" criterion, the movie succeeded. By the buck-a-joke criterion, Regal Theaters owes me $9. One joke, and it ran over two hours! A truly priapic film.

And despite the paragraphs upon paragraphs I've seen written about it, I'm not sure it was anything more than half Steve Martin's The Lonely Guy, half Office Space, with a sprinkling of There's Something About Mary and a heaping side of Mr. Roper "tinkerbell" humor. Eh.

The Pain--When Will It End?

So much to love about the new Kreider. The Fetus Angel. Cheney's brain in formaldehyde, which manages to grimace without even having a mouth. The best caricature to date of Harriet Miers. The McMosque. "The rise of barbarian warlords such as The Great Humongous, The Ayatollah of Rock and Rollah."

But most of all, the Gas Pirate.

Man Chases Goose Back to Pond

I was at wit's end after waiting 40 minutes in the rain for a bus across town to campus, but had I not stuck it out, I would not have seen this.

I looked to my left and saw a goose standing on the sidewalk at the bus stop. It looked like he was waiting for the bus. He must have come from across the street in the Central Park pond.

As I reached into my backpack for my camera, a man at the bus stop began waving his arms at the goose. He chased the goose into the street, and the goose waved its wings, as if to say, "Whoa, WTF?!?"

Disregarding the traffic, this man ran after the goose all the way to the park gates. The goose flew low over the gate and out of sight, presumably into the pond. The man strolled calmly back to the bus stop as if he hadn't just recklessly chased a goose into traffic.

It reminded me of Bob, the crazy goose that spent a few weeks hanging around the main crossroads on the St. Mary's College campus back in the mid 1990s.

He hung out on the brick path between the library and the student union, pecking and biting passers by. He ruthlessly had at my duck boots one rainy day as I rode by on my bike. We suspected that one of the campus stoners (i.e., a student) had either gotten Bob high or accidentally hit him in the head with a frisbee.

Best of 2005: Best Quote from a Bureaucrat

This quote from the New York "Biting Nails and Quaking in Boots" Times:

Acting Gov. Richard J. Codey said yesterday that he was still reviewing the panel's report, but promised unspecified changes to the child welfare system by next week.

"I've gotten reports about the report and I'm planning to take some action," he said in an interview at the State House.

Sport Utility Strollers

Strollers must be folded during peak hours

"...and my baby will have the almond-encrusted salmon with boiled spinach in wasabi-dijon."

Time Cafe has its say in the stroller debate. No luxury high chairs there.

Just a phase, these dark cafe days

I'm running out of mopey songs on my iPod. Can we have some sunshine, please?

eighteen-minute guitar freak-out

What kind of music does one write after a week like this? Download it here.

ha, ha

Close call last night.

I was out until about 11:30 in Hell's Kitchen interviewing someone for a profile. For some reason, the 1 line at 50th Street was only running south. I had to take a 1 down to 42nd, then switch to the 2/3 to get back to 116th. Took me foreveer.

At 116th Street, I got off the subway and walked up the steps to Malcolm X Blvd. Two young men passed me going into the subway.

One of them turned around, sprinted up the stairs, and raised his arm like he was going to tackle me. As I turned around in shock, he backed off and laughed.

"Just bein' funny."

"Okay, that's funny."

He walked back down, laughing with his friend.

He stopped short and looked back up at me. "You got two dollars?" he said.

"I got shit. Really, like shit shit." It was true. I had two pennies. He'd have been pissed if he had robbed me.

"Okay."

I am now in favor of amnesty for turnstile jumpers.

I hope things get back to normal next week, assuming this week was abnormal.