Dumb Things I Have Done Lately

Monday, July 31, 2006

A Note on the Prosecution Exhibits in the Moussaoui Trial

Now that all 1,202 of the prosecution and defense exhibits from the Moussaoui trial have been made available on the Internet, I was all set to do a post about some of the more notable items, including all the Sooners paraphenalia that Moussaoui had collected from his time at an Okhlahoma flight school

Like this this "Oklahoma - 2000 National Football Champions" lanyard with a Cold Steel Ready Edge knife:

Sooners Lanyard With Cold Steel Knife

Then I clicked through some of the prosecution's exhibits for phase 2 -- the penalty phase.

My advice:

If the exhibit is a photo from Phase 2 and is labeled "[Viewer discretion is advised]":

Don't click on it.

'Apache' Guilt

I always feel a little guilty when I hear The Sugarhill Gang's 'Apache' (like at a couple of parties over the last few months), because it's such an insensitive... well, there's no getting around it -- it's a pretty darn racist song.

The problem is, it's just so damn good.

I was in the mood to hear it tonight -- don't know why -- so I took a look around on YouTube, since there are a bunch of versions.

An excerpt of 'The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air' features prominently.

I wasn't expecting an abridged version marginally synced up to footage of The Wiggles (no way I'm embedding that here), but whatever.

Anyway, I was curious to see some American Indian/Native American viewpoints on the song, so I searched on native americans apache sugarhill gang.

The first result is a two-year old Village Voice article that kicks off with OutKast's performance of 'Hey Ya!' at the 2004 Grammys and goes into a whole bunch of other Native American issues (it was a fairly predictable Voice article, though I admit when I saw the broadcast, it raised my eyebrows, too).

The second, though, kind of sidetracked me from my quest for Native American justice (such as it was), because it was an article in music & mp3 blog Soul Sides: All Roads Lead to Apache.

(I guess I missed it when it was on Metafilter last year.)

It turns out the reason why The Sugarhill Gang's 'Apache' is so good is because it follows in a strong, long line, dating back to the original written by composer Jerry Lordan.

Anyway, go read the blog entry, which includes mp3s of the relevant songs.


I made jambalaya this afternoon. Maybe it's not true jambalaya, but it's jambalaya-ish.

It's pretty plug-and-play, especially since I cheat and use a lot of shortcuts -- I put it together from whatever I have handy, throw it all into the rice cooker and let it go.


I don't really have a recipe, it's more like a procedure:

  • Rice: Two cups of white rice into the rice cooker with the normal amount of water or chicken broth.

  • Something Green: Usually a bundle of cilantro, diced (though this time, I used parsley), and also a bit of green onion

  • Meat: I chop up a sausage-style meat product, usually a kielbasa.

    (On a side note, the turkey kielbasa says "pork and beef added" -- they might as well just call it "meat.")

    This time around, also I browned some chicken and added it in (which I don't usually do)

  • Red: Half a jar or so of spaghetti sauce, until it gets to the right color

  • Spices & Stuff: I have a fairly basic spice collection, and I tend to use the same combinations in everything (like my meatloaf): garlic and onion powder, cayenne pepper, chili powder, some sriracha sauce, basil, black and red pepper. Also, a bit of soy sauce and some olive oil.

    I also had some plum tomatoes and I minced some garlic and put it in.

That's about it, just dump it all in the rice cooker and press the button. With my rice cooker, I need to check it after the button pops, stir, and add a bit more water and press the button again, but that's about it.

It came out pretty good -- not as much heat as I would have liked, and could probably have used some more salt. Oh, and I should have seasoned the chicken before browning it. Sometimes the rice at the bottom gets mushy, but it wasn't too bad here.

About the only bad thing is that there's a lot of it -- I'll probably be eating it for dinner every night this week.


Marital Aids, Martial Arts, Stun Guns

Walking from Metro Center to the Vox demo/meet and greet on Wednesday, I passed this gem of a sign:

Martial Aids, Martial Arts, Stun Guns

Naturally, this has been noticed before by others.

Saturday, July 29, 2006

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Gooooooooal!

I was flipping past the local Telefutura affiliate this afternoon.

They were showing 'Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan', dubbed in Spanish.

I had to watch, if only to hear the Spanish take on Khaaan!!!

Actually, I was kind of disappointed that he didn't say "GOOOOOAAAL!!!"

Admiral James T. Kirk says Goooaal!

In an odd twist, during the parts without dialog, I could hear Latino music (not sure what genre) playing softly in the background.

I guess the growth of Spanish-language radio continues well into the 23rd century.

Thursday, July 27, 2006

I Really Hope That 'Miami Vice' Doesn't Suck

Even if I'm not going to see it in the theater (I haven't seen any movies this summer in the theater -- in fact, I haven't seen any of the summer movies, period), I hope that 'Miami Vice' doesn't suck.

[Ooh, look: IMDB's added little thumbnails of the actors on the cast listings.]

This is because Michael Mann is one of my favorite directors.

His 'Manhunter' is far, far superior to 'Red Dragon', the latter of which is just not very interesting. ('Red Dragon' is mostly more faithful to the storyline of the book in a straight-ahead, plodding way, though that means it also includes the stupid part about eating the painting.)

That's because 'Red Dragon' director Brett Ratner is a hack.

It's been a while since I've seen 'The Insider', but the courtroom scenes with Bruce "D-Day" McGill thundering away are beautiful.

I haven't seen 'Ali' yet, and still haven't finished watching 'Collateral' (I keep falling asleep). This is because I hate black people.*

Anyway, 'Heat' is constantly in my DVD player, even though lately I find myself sometimes just skipping between the set-piece gun battles.

I quote from it far too often, and it is, in fact, one of the reasons why I am known to call people "slick."

Michael Cheritto says, Stop talking, okay slick?

So, I hope that 'Miami Vice' doesn't suck; the reviews from the Onion AV Club and the Village Voice are pretty good; the Washington Post's isn't, though, and Rotten Tomatoes seems split.

One more 'Heat' quote:

Neil McCauley says, You can get killed walkin' your doggie!

*I don't really hate black people.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

My Name Is Joelogon, and I'm a DCBlogs Live Feed Whore

Yes, it's true: Knowing that the dcblogs.com/live feed exists affects how I blog. Most commonly, it influences when I choose to blog about something.

For example, if I've posted something that I think is particularly well-written, incisive, funny, and generally deserving of love, attention and accolades, am I going to push it out of the queue for a stupid throwaway entry on how, after a night of drinking, I spilled soy sauce on my white couch slipcover? Even if, while washing it the next day, the stupid thing was so heavy and unbalanced that it caused my washer/dryer to hop six inches from its original spot, and it's too heavy for me to move back?

Of course not. That's what "Save as Draft" is for.

I'm not a political or world events blogger. I'm rarely writing anything that needs to pay attention to the news cycle or has to be timely in any sense --I'm just writing about stupid shit in my life, so I can save up my entries. Space out the interesting ones a little. It's not as if I'm not already a week or more past when the original event occured, usually.

The effect is pernicious.

Having an audience (real or otherwise) is a terrible, wonderful thing. Sure I'm blogging for myself -- that's why I stopped updating the paper journal that sits on my nightstand -- because I'm blogging for myself.

Why I waste time trying to come up with an edgy, attention-grabbing headline and lede? Because I'm blogging for myself.

Why I technorati tag entries? Because I'm... okay, you -- I mean, I -- get the point.

If I was less of a hack, I would figure out a way to tie the live feed in with Schrodinger's Cat. Or maybe the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. But I'm not.

(Actually, reading the Wikipedia entry on the Uncertainty Principle indicates that my intended line of reasoning -- that the act of observing something influences the thing being observed -- was incorrect, based on an incomplete understanding, so it's probably a good thing I'm a hack.)

Oh, and the original title for this entry was something boring like, "I Admit It: I Am Aware of the DC Blogs Live Feed", but any chance you get to work "whore" into a headline is an opportunity not to be missed.

Plus, it got you to click, didn't it?

I'm Dumb, Not Stupid

Yesterday, I went to the office gym after work for the first time in about a hundred years.

Of course, I'm feeling it ("it" being Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness) today.

Since it had been so long, I had just about forgotten my lock's combination. I tried a few permutations in the parking lot, but I was transposing some numbers.

Anyway, I was just about to bag it and go home, but then I stopped and realized that not going to the gym just because I had forgotten my combination was fucking stupid.

If it was, say, the McBurney YMCA in Manhattan, or for that matter, any other gym that wasn't at the office, it would have been dumb to not lock everything up, but I wasn't too worried about the office gym.

Anyway, I locked my valuables (except my car keys, whew) in the car, and went in.

I think it was the sense memory or my lizard brain, but I suddenly remembered the correct combination and was able to go through my lackluster workout.

By the way, carpeting in the dressing area of the locker room: Points for aesthetics, comfort, and acoustics, but it's just not working. The locker room really smells like... a locker room.

Monday, July 24, 2006

Damn, I've Outed Myself

So, my Statcounter logs of late have shown a lot of activity from various points on the AOL network, invariably from searches relating to my original entry on Bob Wooldridge's untimely death, which I had also tagged in Technorati.

(By the way, for those of you seeking to pump up your visitor counts, blog about Washingtonpost.com articles, making sure you link back to them; your blog will show up in the article's Technorati widget. Use this knowledge only for good.)

Now, I make it a point not to talk about work in this blog. Mostly because I like my (relatively) unblemished employment record, but also because I like to think I can keep my personal life (such as it is) separate from my work life. This includes doing things like keeping separate Technorati profiles and Flickr accounts for work and personal business, for example.

(I'm not one of those folks who's trying to build his name into some standalone, ubiquitous blog brand, with one blog for both personal and professional purposes -- those people kind of irritate me. I'm not sure why.)

Also, I find that doing my work blog kind of cramps my personal blogging style. Not only can I not talk about certain things, since it could potentially come back and bite me (which is not unique to me, of course), but I rarely do any personal blogging during the day (not even during lunch). Since I also usually don't feel like personal blogging at home (because it starts to feel like work again), it's one of the reasons I have week-long breaks in the blog, even though I have stuff that I want to write about.

That last one's kind of an occupational hazard for a corporate blogger.

I posted some similar thoughts over in my work blog, only from the viewpoint of a good corporate citizen -- it basically says that while my work blog isn't a persona that I put on, it's not quite 100% me. Which is true.

The point I was trying to make is that, because of all the new AOL traffic, I can no longer cling to the illusion that people who only know me through my work blog don't also know about this blog.

Now, it's not like it was a really robust illusion to begin with. If you Google my name (which I state very clearly in both blogs), my work blog is the first result, and my personal blog is the third result.

Still, it was kind of comforting that there wasn't a lot of crossover between the two worlds. There probably still isn't, but the potential is there. Of course, it's probably not helping any that I'm doing this entry, but the genie is already out of the bottle. Besides, I'm not that interesting.

Continuing with the referrers, I also saw a sharp spike in traffic after the Express's blog (the Washington Post's free commuter-targeted daily) picked up the Bob entry -- I can only assume they've got someone trolling the dcblogs.com/live feed. That accounted for a bunch of hits from around the region, including at least one from the CIA.

Other than that, I just note that:

* Lots of people around the world are interested in Lamer Cream
* My item on using Pepcid AC to fight the Asian Flush is pretty popular, relatively speaking (which is to say, it's marginally less-unknown than the rest of the entries). I'm glad to be of service in any way that I can.
* There are a bunch of people (especially in the Middle East) who find my blog because they're looking for Man Ass. This disturbs me, and I'm sure it disappoints them.
* Speaking of disappointment, I'm still kind of disappointed that my Blog Analysis and Review tool entry never really got any traction. I know of more than a few people who could benefit from it.
* The folks over at the Reston edition of Backfence put my blog back in their local blogs section, after a week's break. Hey, make up your minds.

In closing, this is not a conclusion.

I'm in a Rut. A Funk. A Runk?

For some time, the highlight of my week has been going through the Best Buy and Target circulars (Saturday afternoon or Sunday morning), to see what media purchases I can make to best avoid doing anything substantive in my life.

Yes, I'm the poster child for arrested development through DVDs.

Typically, there's minimal damage done, since I usually cherry pick the "2 for $20" type of deals. Mostly, I end up throwing them on the ever-growing stack of unwatched (and oftentimes, unopened) DVDs on my end table.

This weekend was a little different, though -- the DVD box sets for La Femme Nikita seasons 1, 2, and 3 were on sale at Best Buy for $37.99 each. At 22 episodes per season, that's about $1.75 per episode, or about $120 with tax.

That's nearly as good as the Asian grey-market "we swear it's not bootleg" DVDs you see on ebay.

So, anyway, I ended up getting the first 3 seasons, plus a cheap universal remote to replace the one that came with my VCR, and that apparently committed suicide after being dropped too many times.

The total cost of the purchase?


Now, if I'd spent 10 times as much (dammit, not counting the cents part, argh), I would have had $1,270.01, or very nearly a loopback address.

I'm not even that technical, I really don't have a reason for thinking these things.

Lastly, of course, I am not the first to conflate the terms rut & funk to get "runk", though Google suggests that the first real occurance on the Web was just last year, which I find hard to believe.

Friday, July 21, 2006

I'm Really Starting to Hate 'Amazing Grace'

Bob's funeral was today. Don't look for anything solemn, touching or poignant in this entry, though, because this one isn't about him. This one is all superficial, and it's all about me.

Between Nicole's funeral two weeks ago and Bob's today, it's hasn't been a fun couple of weeks for those of us who knew them both.

I haven't been to very many funerals that I can recall. I went to more wakes when I was younger, but none for anyone that I had really gotten to know.

This time around, the caskets seemed so... small.

Maybe they just looked bigger when I was a kid. Or maybe it was because I'd never really understood that, inside, was someone who was once a real, live person.

Lately, I've been re-reading the Tom Stoppard play, 'Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead' -- in particular, the passage where they're talking about being dead. It's after all the funny bits with the coin-flipping and the verbal tennis -- Act II:
Rosencrantz: ...Do you ever think of yourself as actually dead, lying in a box with a lid on it?

Guildenstern: No.

Rosencrantz: Nor do I, really....It's silly to be depressed by it. I mean one thinks of it like being alive in a box, one keeps forgetting to take into account the fact that one is dead... which should make all the difference... shouldn't it?

I mean, you'd never know you were in a box, would you? It would be just like being asleep in a box. Not that I'd like to sleep in a box, mind you, not without any air -- you'd wake up dead, for a start, and then where would you be? Apart from inside a box. That's the bit I don't like, frankly. That's why I don't think of it...

Because you'd be helpless, wouldn't you? Stuffed in a box like that, I mean you'd be in there forever. Even taking into account the fact that you're dead, really...

Ask yourself, if I asked you straight off -- I'm going to stuff you in this box now, would you rather be alive or dead? Naturally, you'd prefer to be alive. Life in a box is better than no life at all. I expect. You'd have a chance at least. You could lie there thinking -- well, at least I'm not dead! In a minute someone's going to bang on the lid and tell me to come out. (Banging the floor with his fists.) "Hey you, whatsyername! Come out of there!"

Today was also the first time I'd gone to a cemetary for the actual burial service.

If the service was heartwrenching, the drive over in the funeral procession was nerve-wracking. People around here barely pull over for ambulances -- you think that they'll yield just because you've got an orange sticker in the windshield and your headlights and flashers on?

Incidentally, having the hazard flashers going the whole time was driving me bonkers -- I kept trying to turn the turn signal off.

Now, granted, it would have sucked to be a driver on the other side of all this -- there must have been a hundred cars in the procession. But, we as a society have determined that it's important to make allowances so that people can say farewell to the dead.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Sometimes My Stupidity Still Surprises Me

When a woman indicates that she may be greeting a fellow out of a sense of social obligation (presumably due to some prior history), it is probably better to take her at her word, instead of essentially repeating her words verbatim to the fellow, thereby throwing her under the bus for the sake of a stupid, disposable joke.

Obviously, this was not a hypothetical situation, but something that happened on Friday at Friday Night Live in Herndon.

I wasn't drunk. I just had no idea that there was any history there.

Boy, did I feel like an asshole. I couldn't stop apologizing.

At least there was a form of instant karmic payback, as some new friends I'd just been introduced to introduced me to a woman they knew who looked oddly familiar.

It was slightly hard to hear because of the band, but she had something of an accent.

I asked what she did -- she said she was in the mortgage business.

I asked where she lived -- she said she lived in Reston, near the Town Center.

The pieces started coming together -- after a series of questions (considerably less than 20, fortunately), I figured out that it was my ex-girlfriend's landlord/roommate.

She also confirmed that I wasn't paranoid, and that it was indeed my ex that I'd seen in town a few weeks ago.

I was appropriately self-flagellating, but it was still a little awkward.

It's not that it's a small world -- it's just that Reston is a small, unincorporated portion of Fairfax County.

Went to Jimmy's afterwards. Had to wait in line for about 10 minutes, too. The worst part, though, was that I had specifically skimped on lunch so that I would be set to have the Friday Fish Fry, which is fish and chips with a side of pierogi, which is really good and which I haven't had in probably a year.

And yet I wasn't hungry in the least bit.

Go With What You Know

I could be writing my weeks-delayed entry about a friend and former co-worker's untimely death, which would be all the more poignant in light of another friend and former co-worker's recent untimely death.

Instead, I will post about my social retardation, then drink beer and pass out in front of the TV, which may or may not be running a DVD or Xbox game at the time.

Saturday, went into Arlington ("Barlington") to meet up with a friend at the 11th Street Lounge, although I'd gotten a really late start, so it was kind of iffy if I'd run into her.

I parked outside Iota and walked over, passing all the young, pretty people on the sidewalks of Wilson Blvd.

I hung out at the Lounge for about an hour and a few drinks. It was still too early to go home, and I was determined to make at least a token effort to be a functioning social animal, so I walked over to Kitty O'Shea's, the Irish bar that used to be Joseph's.

I stayed there for a few more drinks, then gave up and went home.

Along the way, I realized that I didn't speak more than three words that night to anyone who wasn't bar staff.

Monday, July 17, 2006

You Have Got to Be Kidding. Please Make It Stop.

There was a short item in the Washington Post Regional Briefing section today. You may have missed it -- I nearly did:
Skateboarder Hit by Car, Killed
A 42-year-old man from Silver Spring was killed while skateboarding yesterday in the Hillandale area of Montgomery County, police said.

The man had been skateboarding on private property and traveled into a street, where he collided with an automobile, police said.

The incident occurred about 12:45 p.m. in the 10500 block of Sweetbriar Parkway. Police said the man was pinned beneath the car when they arrived.

The man's identity was withheld until his relatives could be notified. Police said the incident was under investigation.
A skateboarder getting killed by a car, while uncommon and tragic, is not particularly unusual. There's no cognitive dissonance. It makes sense, even if it doesn't make sense.

A 42-year-old killed while skateboarding... now that's a little different. It makes a little blip of a tragic news story about some guy you didn't know a little more notable.

If you heard about it, you might file it away as one of those little odd death stories and send the link off to someone tomorrow. Maybe see it written up next month in the News of the Weird.

Later this evening, I got the phone call.

It turns out the 42-year-old was Bob, my friend and most recent boss.

This happens barely two weeks after the passing of another friend and former co-worker, which I still haven't written about and barely talked about. (She was 33. Cancer.)

None of us knows anything more right now other than what's in the article. When I heard the words "hit by a car" and "skateboard" over the phone, my second reaction was this feeling in the pit of my stomach that I'd heard this story somewhere before.

For those that knew Bob, getting killed while skateboarding... well, I can't say that it would have been the first thing I would have thought of (he'd had a mild heart episode last year), and I hadn't known he'd picked up a deck, but, yeah it kind of fits in a ridiculous way.

So, while it doesn't make sense, it makes sense, but then it doesn't make sense again, in that huge, final, all-encompassing way.

He will be missed.

Anyway, please make it stop.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Official Diet and Exercise Plan of the Dumb Things Blog

I haven't worked out in a while.

Fortunately, I've been eating like crap.

This is both a joke and a sad fact. Just over the past few weeks, Popeye's, Chipotle, a whole large pizza over the course of 3 days, Baja Fresh and a few cookouts have figured prominently in my menu.

Concurrently, my activity level has dropped down. Way down. This coincides with the end of summer kickball season, which, as exercise, can be characterized as 45 minutes of light to moderate exertion, followed by 3 hours of standing around drinking beer.

Occasional forays on skates notwithstanding, I just haven't been able to get to the gym. Don't really see the point.

I do better with hard deadlines. Arbitrary, self-imposed goal deadlines don't do it for me, as I can easily see through them.

Up With Chuck

I met with Chuckie last night. Hutch acted as middleman and broker, but it's apparently crunch time at the place that's poaching all of my cow-orkers, so he couldn't stay.

The original plan was to meet at Lucky Bar, though when I got there, the doorman wouldn't let me in, since I was wearing sneakers.

Apparently, sneakers are verboten, though flip-flops and sandals are okay.

(I got the invite late Monday afternoon, so I could have stopped by my place and changed on the way in. Instead, I stopped in Arlington, hit the CD cellar, then parked my car on the street and took the Metro in.)

It wasn't really a big deal, as we just wanted a place to hang out and talk, and it was some sort of salsa night (or so I'm told), so I went and got an empanada while we were waiting for Chuck to show up. Which he did -- just after Hutch headed back to the office (right across the street). We yelled at him to come back:

Wardrobe provided by Banana Republic ("Nana")

We hung out a little bit, then headed up to The Big Hunt (yes, the Big Hunt) after Mike went back to work.

Conversation was just like old times, so it was the usual free-ranging discussion, covering everything from real estate, hallucinogens/psychadelics, Bob & Edith's Diner, the CIA, global renditions, small arms, K Street lobbyist assholes, old times at AOL, thermobaric weapons vs. fuel air explosives, turn-based computer wargames, terrorism, geopolitics, and computer metaphors. ("When your religion starts telling you to blow yourself up, it's time for a hard reboot." And that was me talking.)

Chuck and Me

I had to go catch the last Metro, but Chuck twisted my arm, so we stayed until closing (about 1:30am on a Monday night), and then cabbed it back.

Ongoing Dumbness

This week, I discovered some ongoing dumbness I had been perpetrating:

* Somehow, my work e-mail client had reverted to previous settings where it'd automatically saved all read mail locally. It probably happened a few months ago, when I got upgraded to the new laptop.

There was a reason I stopped saving all mail locally, and that was because the database was getting bloated with crap. Which explained why every time I went into my saved mail folder, it asked me if I really wanted to sort the folder, since it had over 2200 messages and would take a few minutes.

* When I set up this here blog with dem ole' StatCounter, I made provisions to have two bits of counter code: a visible counter on the main page, and invisible tracking code for all the subpages.

Unfortunately, I never did implement any way to actually branch the two bits of counter code so they only showed up on the appropriate pages, so instead, they showed up on every page.

This means that everything has been double-counted so far.

On the plus side, fixing this means that I can see back farther in the logs, since the free log size limit is 100 (of what, I know not)

Cut Off

It figures. I wanted to do a whole lot of catchup blogging tonight, so of course my broadband connection is out. Cable, too.

I go to call it in.

Phone's out.

I call from the cell and Comcast says the techs are already on site and that it'll be fixed in 45 minutes. We'll see. [Okay, there was a spark of life at the 50 minute mark, but it took 2 hours before I was back up.]

I call Verizon. As previously blogged, I've had a lot of fun dealings with them before.

After about 5 minutes of a bot walking me through menu items, inconclusive line tests and warnings about service contracts, I bailed.

Since I like having a landline as backup, I will have to call it in at some point. I'm just really not looking forward to it.

[Okay, this is kind of odd -- I wasn't getting dial tone, but I called from my cellphone and it rang, so now my phone seems to be working. That's kind of a relief.]

Monday, July 03, 2006

Just a Skate on the W&OD Trail

So, since I've essentially spent the first half of this 4-day holiday weekend holed up in my house, watching TV, eating Pop-Tarts (2 strawberry frosted, 1 cinnamon frosted) and doing my best hermit impression, I figured I should get out a bit today.

I went skating on the W&OD Trail, as I am wont to do, starting out at Reston Parkway and heading west. It was hot, partly cloudy but relatively dry.

Of course, I failed to put on any sunscreen. I guess I did this because it started out kind of overcast.

Also, I apparently believe that I can skate faster than light.

Needles to say, I think I reburned my chest (I doffed my shirt after the first half hour or so).

I did take my camera along (which I don't recall doing before) and snapped a couple of photos:

He Stretched for Our Sins
He Stretched for Our Sins

Water Fountain
Deceptively-labeled water fountain -- it says "Delayed Flow", but it will take your head off.

I turned around at Smith's Switch Station and came back, so maybe did about 16 miles. I was pretty gassed by the time I got back -- I started cramping up and I had some nice blisters going on the insides of my arches.

Fortunately, I was able to limp inside the 7-11 and get my customary post-skate Slushee (thereby negating any possible caloric benefit).

After I got home, I poured a glass of Gatorade from the bottle sitting on my counter, to help with the cramps. (Clear Flavor, whatever that's supposed to be.)

I took a sip; it was pretty bitter. I then realized that the bottle had been opened and been sitting on the counter for about a month. At least. And it does say "Refrigerate After Opening."

I poured out the bottle and then finally saw the mold colony that had been growing in the bottom.

"Is there a female between 18 and 45 available in your house?"

(Beat, as I pause to consider responses.)

"I wish."

Just a telemarketer/survey call from yesterday.