The Scent of Pineapple

It's finally November, which means once again it's National Novel Writing Month and for some silly reason, I'm taking the 50,000 word challenge on again. After the solicitation of ideas from several friends (since all I really had was something about a slow motion train wreck and black waves of depression), I'm running with a story about one woman's search for the Lost Tablet of Kramenya.

So who is this girl and why is the tablet worth 50,000 words of anguish?

Short answers: Tatyana Cavender, and I don't really know yet. But that's the beauty of NaNoWriMo, you just have to let the story come out and see where it takes you.

Nature Hikin'

Some time back, my sister's fiance Rob enlisted my aid in writing a song. He had written lyrics about one of his favorite activities and wanted to put them to music (that's where I came in). So one evening several months ago, I loaded up Anna (my acoustic guitar) and headed over to his place and came up with some chords and tweaked some lyrics to fit. "Nature Hikin'" was born.

And then I sat on it.

I eventually produced an instrumental demo, but he thought it was a little too fast and it didn't have any vocals on it, mainly because I'm not the world's greatest singer and I have thinnish walls with my neighbors, whom I don't hate.

But he was back in town this week from working in North Dakota and I realized that, being temporarily out of a job, I had the time to do a slightly slower demo, and I did. I even had the gumption to put vocals on it; it was the first time I've recorded myself singing since my old band Half-Penny made a demo more than six years ago. And in celebration of this truly illustrious event, I'm putting the song up here for all to enjoy. It's on the right, under the new list "New Danger Dog Demos."

So enjoy.

Breaking News

Using the International Standardized Shakira Scale, today's revelations rate a David Hasselhoff on the Berlin Wall.

Something Almost Intelligent About Gender and Sexuality, Or, Thanks a Million Andrew Sullivan

Let me start this by saying that I love me some Shakira. I got turned onto her probably in high school Spanish (before her first English album). I generally prefer her material when she isn't trying to be Top 40 or get her videos on MTV (I understand that's the nature of the beast, but I have a kind of snobby streak when it comes to music), but her music is kind of like pizza - even if it's not the best thing in the world, it's still pretty good and I'll probably take the opportunity to have another slice. Which is to say that I will get a copy of her upcoming album She Wolf when it comes out next month.

The eponymous lead single falls squarely into chart hopeful territory, which I don't mean in any derogatory sense - in my book, Shakira + disco strings = WIN. And if you like the ladies, the video is pretty awesome (I can't embed it, so you'll have to click the link). Does such a display cheapen the artist and enforce stereotypes that female artists have to be sexy and revealing?

So I was just over at The Daily Dish where Andrew Sullivan had posted a fan made remake of the video called "He Wolf." Behold! (But seriously, you should watch the original first.)



Now click on the video and go to it on YouTube. Notice something that wasn't there on the original video's page? Hint: it's the tag that says "This video may not be suitable for minors." Is it a double standard for gender roles? Does the fact that it's a man writhing within a cage in next to nothing automatically create a homoerotic subtext?

So thanks a million, Andrew Sullivan. Not only did you almost ruin the song for me, but you made my head hurt.

Fighting and Biting and Riding On His Horse

Today was my first 5k, and I survived with a time of 29:23. The route required us to go up a big damn hill (and I kicked some ass going up), but then we got to go back down (at which point I kind of hit a wall, so I wound up doing a little bit of walking). The tunes in my Jim Carroll Memorial 5k playlist could have been somewhat better arranged (mainly, "Loosen Your Tie" by the Remus Lupins (yes, they're a wizard rock band, but whatever - you should seriously listen to it, seriously) should have been put later in the playlist, when I'd be more in need of a super awesome boost), and it got hot a lot faster then weather.com predicted so I did a little roasting in long sleeves, but I made it through(and passed a guy that used to run marathons at the end, woo!); I also beat my sister by about a minute.

I was something of a sad panda because my Cheeto eating support team/fan club didn't show (a bad combination of not setting alarms and getting caught up in cleaning), but there's always next time - and there WILL be a next time.

Also, I'm not very good at treachery and deceit judging by the game of Diplomacy we played last night - please try to contain your surprise. High five to Jon, who wound up winning the game Mark Travis-style by more or less sneaking in on the rest of us while we were busy fighting amongst ourselves. I can think of a couple of people that would probably be hella good at the game, too bad (or maybe thank goodness) they're 300 miles away.

Wicked Gravity

I read the news today, oh boy: poet and punk rocker Jim Carroll passed away in his home in New York on Friday. I can't offer much in the way of eulogy; really I'm just a random person that got turned on to his music. Even so, I'm a little bummed- this kind of sad news always seems worse on top of a lousy situation.

Thanks for the music, Jim. Here's hoping you found that world without gravity, and that it was indeed just what you needed.

I Feel Love (Aaaah), I Must Be In Love

One of my favorite shows on the teevee is Mad Men. I started watching it when it started, am pretty jazzed that it's back for a third season. If you aren't watching it, get on it - you'll thank me.

A recent episode had a scene where Joan (played by the lovely Christina Hendricks who most of you would remember as YoSaffBridge on Firefly) played the song "C'est Magnifique" on the accordion. Redhead bombshell that plays the accordion and sings in French? I think I've found my ideal woman.



Yes, please.

Hump Day Happy Hour - The Cars

Oh no, is this a new wave kick I'm on? I don't know, but I feel like posting some Cars awesomeness so we'll just have to see if this trend continues. In finding the video for "Dangerous Type," I bounced over to a cover of the song by Letters To Cleo, which was apparently used in The Craft, and then to a video of Beavis and Butthead talking over LTC's "Here and Now." Thanks for the timesuck, YouTube!

Anyway, not only did The Cars make some kickass music (see the entirety of Candy-O for further awesomeness), they make me feel attractive. Also, I don't think I was aware that Gibson made a Flying V Bass, but now I want one (so thanks a million for that, Benjamin Orr). But enough chit chat, let's go.



I want to touch you, or are you out of touch?
Regis

I AM THE CHAMPIONS, 3-Day Novel 2009 Edition

And the hard part is over. I pulled into the last period at 11:55, leaving myself a comfortable five minutes to spare. I feel really good about this one, gang. It clocks in at 19,600 words (that includes the title page, but whatever); my 3-Day Novel from last year wasn't even 16k. The ending makes sense (at least as much sense as a story rife with parallel dimensions and time travel can). Even though I never did use the Robot Gillian character (my brief description of her was "she's a robot, yo!"), I'm pretty proud of "Davin and the Suspension of Disbelief."

Guh, my brain feels like mush. I'm finishing this beer and going to bed.

-Regis

Stay On Target...

Five hours to go, sixteen thousand words written, and I think I've finally figured out where this is all going. My mind is feeling strangely squishy, but detailing how parallel realities and time travel connect to a story about anthropomorphic undergrads will do that. Hey, there's an interdimensional tear in the wall, and it feels like orange gelatin. Don't fall in!

23 Hours To Go

Quick 3-Day Novel update before I catch some shuteye: I'm currently sitting a little more than 10,000 words, which is roughly two thirds of what I managed to churn out last year, and this after a highly unproductive Sunday (I've had a hell of a time focusing today, and taking care of an ailing mother in the absence of both my father and my sister isn't exactly helping). But the setting up the pieces is pretty much done and the action is rolling. Clones are attacking Laramie, rabbits are swooning, 90 Shilling and Dead Guy Ale are being drunk, and the Iron Cock is living up to his name. But most of all, I'm having fun, and that's the important thing.

As tough as today has been, the last day tends to be both really hard and ridiculously enjoyable. The deadline looms large, and no idea is too crazy to be thrown on the page, regardless of whether it sticks. It's probably going to come down to the wire, but that's just fine with me - it's no fun if it's easy.

Almost... there,
Regis

Here We Go Again

It's Labor Day Weekend, and that means one thing. Okay, it means a couple of things, but the big damn important thing it means to me is the return of the International 3-Day Novel Contest. Once again, I'm abusing my muse in pursuit of fortune and glory. This year's story is going to be pretty silly, what with anthropomorphic rabbits, ducks, and beavers; a horde of idiot clones; and visitors from both the future and parallel universes. Mix in a robot, beer, and D&D and it's bound to be fun, even if it becomes a trainwreck.

Time's a-wasting, so I'm done here. Check back for updates and events warrant.

-Regis

Hump Day Happy Hour - Elvis Costello

Frak this economy and the horse it rode in on. Is it still hump day if you don't have a job? Whatever, I don't really care, so here's an early Elvis Costello track, "Watching The Detectives."



I get so angry when the teardrops start,
Regis

Godspeed, Cane Adiss (v): Tatooine Regionals Non-Tournament Report and Stuff

Once again, Jon "Cates" Cates and I loaded up and headed south for some red-hot Star Wars CCG action this last weekend, and once again, we got blown out by Greenies but had fun in the process.

Tatooine Regionals was Saturday and Colorado States was the following Sunday. Both events were held in the banquet room at Johnson's Corner (the place with really good cinamon rolls south of Fort Collins). Saying we played cards at a truck stop sounds weird, but they let us have the room for free (but we had to buy food from them, oh woe was us). Team Wyoming did about as well as we'd done the month previous, with two last place finishes and two almost last place finishes. But whatever, I don't think that Jon or I would even be able to make Worlds if we won a bye, so let's have some fun.

I don't feel like typing a big recap and spotty tournament report (I didn't take any notes, and trying to remember 12 games over two days from a couple days back would be pretty weak reading), so here are some highlights of the weekened:

I got recognized by an attractive young woman in Casper from my time as a humor columnist for the University of Wyoming Branding Iron way back from 2001 to 2003 (or, if you prefer, before the dark times). So I guess four people that I didn't directly know read and enjoyed "Life Is Like A Mop."

Jon left all his decks but one at Tom's on Friday night, and Tom forgot to bring them to the tournament. Being the standup teammate I am, I lent Jon my SarlacCourt deck, which he switched a couple of cards out of and then beat me with in the tournament.

Broken Concentration is a lot more fun when you're the one playing it. Craig blew a SquAssign search for BoShek, then I moved the top card of his Force Pile to his Reserve Deck. He drew it for destiny, and lo and behold it was the Shekster (who is a lovely destiny 1).

Cane Adiss (v) kicks ass! so of course it's getting changed in the massive errata that's just about to hit. At least I got to bust it out against Rebel Senate shenanigans on Coruscant (ha ha!) and effectively punch speeders in the nuts (not that it won me the game, but HA! all the same). Of course, Jon nailed me with it when he played my deck against me - further proof I'm bad at this game, I don't even know what's in my decks.

I fed Han to the Rancor twice on Sunday. The first time, it won me the game (although I already had it wrapped up), the second day it was pretty much just a last minute flipping of the bird to Chris Fanchi, who had blown me out in our epic RanCourt versus Profit matchup.

Oh, yeah - the Sarlacc also ate my Han in my game against Jon, because I'm bad at cards. That man is friggin' delicious or something.

I hate Watch Your Step. Not really a highlight, but worth saying.

Jerry has fantastic facial expressions. Like his "does not want" face upon hearing the group chorus vocal at the end of Electric Six's "Electric Demons in Love"
We need to get some blank Fluxx cards and make the goals "Chocolate Rocket" and "Fuckloaf."

Jon and I both pulled white-bordered Tagge Seekers in our prize support from Wyoming States last month. Awesome. I also opened two packs of Death Star II and got a Flagship Executor and B-wing Assault Squadron - hot damn.

Dillon seriously needs to keep growing his hair out, hit the gym, get a tan, and become a real-life Dillio. I am dead serious, it would be awesome. Or, he could get a mullet and it would be so awesome it would bring about world peace. Again, I am dead serious.

Mark is a great Tournament Director, but he should have required decklists for Sunday as well as Saturday so I could write "I Want To Spend All Your Money At The Gay Bar" (the reference lives below) and "Cindy McCain's Sex Tape" in the deck title box. I did get to write "Palin-Cubin 2012" for my Saturday dark deck (it was a bad idea from a red state that maybe works half the time, and yes it lived up to its name).



Jon + camera + hot chick on a motorcycle in front of us on Grand Avenue = predictable results.

A big thanks goes to Mark for running two great events and the two-headed monster of Jerry and Diana for letting us crash at their place again. I feel it's worth repeating that everyone I got to play against was a good sport and it was a real pleasure. Thank you all!

Hope I die before I get rolled,
Regis

Why I Have Cable

While I have often considered following the advice of the Aquabats and turning off the idiot box (it's a disease, just like the chicken pox!), I just haven't been able to muster the will. There are too many good shows on, like Mad Men, and I love me my DVR (maybe even I'll get around to watching Seven Samurai one of these days).

And then something so awesome gets stumbled upon it totally makes my patronage of Bresnan (even if we still don't have VOD in Sheridan) totally worth it. Something that can only be described inadequately, and thereby must be experienced. BEHOLD!



Thank you, God, for creating MTV Tr3s,
Regis

Hump Day Happy Hour - CuCu Diamantes

I caught the video for "Mas Fuerte" by CuCu Diamantes the other night on one of the Spanish-language music channels (probably mun2) and was blown away - enough that I downloaded the album, which I can safely call pretty awesome (even if I have next to no idea what the lyrics are, as it's mostly en español). My boss (the Michael Jordan of Sensitivity) thinks I'm getting back to my roots (because Cuban = Mexican = Spanish = Basque). So do yourself a favor and check this one out.



Porque soy mas fuerte que tu,
Regis

This Week In Half-Assing It

In general, I'm not a big fan of half-assing things - at least, not if they have anything resembling serious repurcussions. You can imagine my chagrin when I read about one George Vera, a 500-lb inmate in Texas that confessed to smuggling an unloaded 9mm pistol into the Harris County Jail in his fat rolls.

Not only were the officers that searched him upon his arrest and again at both city and county jails clearly half-assing it, but Mr. Vera did the halfest-assing* job of all - the damn gun was unloaded! Seriously, Georgie Boy, if you're going to sneak a piece in, bring some fracking bullets!

*I realize that half of a 500-lb man's ass is bigger than my whole one, but that that's beside the point.

I've got bullets to spare,
Regis

Wait, What?

I ran across this at Balloon Juice and did a double-take.

A Colorado law recently signed by Democratic Gov. Bill Ritter not only requires motorists to give riders at least a 3-foot-wide berth, it also makes it illegal to throw things at riders, says Dan Grunig, executive director of Bicycle Colorado. Previously, he says, police could only cite a motorist if they actually hit the rider.

The main thrust of the article is good news - yay for commuting on bikes and safety, etc. - but it left me with a big damn question.

Does this mean it's legal to throw things at people in Colorado as long as you don't hit them, provided they aren't on bicycles? (I ask, because why would it have been legal to wing stuff at 'em if and only if they're on a bike? I mean, this is Colorado we're talking about, but seriously?) I'm not sure how I'd feel about that, but I need to find out before I get myself in trouble at Tatooine Regionals/Colorado States weekend this month.

I lost my girl and I lost my fun,
Regis

Sacrilicious?

My church is hosting a vacation bible school this week, and I got tapped to play the bad guy in the daily skits, a scenery-chewing mad scientist named Virus. The story is a little cheesy and fraught with terrible puns, but it's pretty fun and I get to ham it up something fierce while wearing a Hawaiian shirt IN SPACE, so it's all good.

On a semi-related note, I'm not a huge fan of hipsters, but "Hipster Job" made me laugh, so I'll share it with you.



And God was like, "Ain't no thang,"
Regis

Hump Day Happy Hour - Hearless Bastards

Yeah, it's been a couple months since the last HDHH. I know, I know. Here's a tune that I've become kind of fixated with recently by the Heartless Bastards. I have something of a weakness for badass steel guitar, which "The Mountain" has and then some. I also have a documented weakness for ladies that play guitar, which this band also has in Erika Wennerstrom. Throw in some 90 Shilling and you just might have the perfect trap to catch me.



Take it on down the line,
Regis