Man, tomorrow morning can’t come fast enough. It’s been one long, lonely week.

Normally, I would take this prime opportunity to wax poetic about what the year’s meant, New Year‘s resolutions, why you should treasure what you have, and all that razzmatazz.

But, I’m not gonna this time. Why? Because you’ve heard it all before, and if you’re gonna take it seriously, it won’t be because of this itty-bitty blog post.

So I’ll leave you with this: have a good, safe, and renewing weekend. I’ll see you next year.

…the bus driver who failed to see me this morning. (Before I start, I realize I have little to complain about given recent events in NYC regarding public transit, but I’m still too incensed to feel much but rainy and righteous indignation.)

Listen, buddy. I realize I am short and it was semi-dark, BUT….

I was standing right next to the bus stop sign. I was also in the middle of the block between two well-lit street lights. So what gives? My street isn’t that busy, granted, and you probably go several stops without seeing anyone, but how in the hell did you not see me?

I tried to catch up with you, speed-demon on two feet that I am, but I didn’t. I also lost my bus pass in the hustle, which thank god, I managed to find. Whew- a $50 replacement fee avoided. But I still failed to catch up to you.

As a result, I was an hour late to work and quite drenched by the time I did manage to get on the bus. Thanks a million for screwing up my day royally.

If I’d had one of these, I’d have flashed you a red had I managed to catch you.

Some random observations today, December 25th.

There isn’t a much sadder sight than seeing a homeless man, literally in rags, walking on a deserted downtown street on Christmas. Alone.

Merry Christmas, Seahawks. You earned it. And to the Tony Dungy family- you’re a class act, and I wish you all the peace and love you can handle. I know these times are harder than ever, but there is so much good to be done and to see. You will persevere.

Happy Hanukkah to my Jewish friends!

“Merry Christmas, babygirl,” heard over the phone isn’t nearly as great as hearing it in the flesh.

Working on Christmas isn’t too bad.*

The dog may not know it’s Christmas, but she sure as hell knows Bayou is gone. She has been a mopey mess since Wednesday night. Not even a trip to the dog park lifted her spirits for long.

I love my our DVR and all its soccer-recording capabilities. And I love that even I, Ms. Unable To Use A Remote, can program and delete using the DVR, without fear of total fuckupitude. It’s nirvana.

I hate gift buying more every year, as it never seems to get EASIER, only more stressful and complicated. And I swear to dog, to be successful I would have to start in October.

I miss my family, even the ones I haven’t talked to in 2yrs or seen since 1999. And I miss my parents. I wish you were here, Mom and Dad.

Certain folk have a propensity, from great distances, for knowing how to cheer me up. Thank you so much, David. It brought a huge smile to my face yesterday, and I don’t think I’ve needed it more any time this week.

Whatever your religious affiliation, I hope you are surrounded by loved ones today.

I never thought I’d say this, but I can’t wait till next Christmas. Because I get to share it with my baby, here at home.

*Another post is forthcoming about my Christmas Day working adventures.

I’m sitting here pondering two things, right now.

Firstly, when and how did I become a near carbon-copy of my Dad? More on that shortly.

Secondly, how did I get so lucky as to have the most amazingly creative and inspired girlfriend in the world? Seriously. I’m at a loss for words to describe how wonderful she is, and how blessed I feel every day to wake up to this woman.

We’ve had a rough week, in more ways than one. And in just about an hour, I have to take my beloved Bayou to SeaTac airport, where she will board a plane for her Cajun Christmas at home. So it’s a rough week with a bittersweet end, to boot.

On Monday we decided to do a Friday night dinner at a West Seattle watering hole called JaK’s. On one hand, I was really looking forward to it. On the other, I knew it meant that the time for Bayou to leave was inching extremely close.

We had a nice dinner this evening, catching up a bit on our days and reflecting on certain people and events. We were close to leaving when she pulled out a small jewelry box.

“I have one more thing for you to open before I leave,” she said, a smile twinkling in her eyes.

I smiled in return, and took the box. Inside was a beatiful pendant with a red and green glass bead as the centerpiece. It was held together by ornately woven black thread. My first thought was that I would’ve definitely picked this out.

As I pulled the necklace out of the holder, I began to see the real present was behind it. A ruse had been pulled! Read more…

For every owner whose dog has committed a felony chewing or pawhicular assault with intent to slobber, you’ll appreciate this.

Via my pal bigFOO, I present Law & Order: The Mojo Division.

…but subliminal messages?

Attorneys for television talk show host David Letterman want a judge to quash a restraining order granted to a Santa Fe woman who contends the celebrity used code words to show that he wanted to marry her and train her as his co-host.

A state judge granted a temporary restraining order to Colleen Nestler, who alleged in a request filed last Thursday that Letterman has forced her to go bankrupt and caused her “mental cruelty” and “sleep deprivation” since May 1994.

Nestler’s application for a restraining order was accompanied by a six-page typed letter in which she said Letterman used code words, gestures and “eye expressions” to convey his desires for her.

And people wonder why we have frivolous litigation in the US.

WTF was wrong with the judge in this case? Isn’t there a certain degree of oh, I don’t know, logic and demonstrable threat that has to be proved? I could see it if the woman alleged Letterman were emailing, calling, or otherwise contacting her.

But talking to her through her tv- IN CODE?

Truth (or in this case, court-recorded allegations) is stranger than fiction.

No real shock here with this announcement:

America Online on Tuesday sealed a $1 billion transaction to sell a 5 percent stake to Google Inc. in a deal that deepens the ties binding two of the Web’s most popular Web sites while thwarting Microsoft Corp.’s efforts to grab a larger piece of the booming Internet advertising market.

AOHell and Google together: 1. Microsloth: 0.

I’ve known Travis Cassidy for 12 years.

He and his brother Meyer were amongst the first denizens of Columbus I met when I moved out on my own at the tender age of 19.

Many good times were spent, many good walks were had. Meyer passed on awhile back, but Travis hung on for a few more years, making the most of life and bringing joy to everyone who knew him.

Today, the inevitable demons of old age took him. He was two weeks shy of his 16th birthday.

Fare thee well to you, I know you’ve reached the Great Dog Park In The Sky, Travis. You were the epitome of man’s best friend, and your mom and dad will never be the same without you. But you gave almost 16 years of bliss and happiness, something I’m certain that you knew.

Rest easy, old friend. I have a feeling I’ll see you again.

Dear Mom,

Thanks so much for the box of Christmas goodies. We were good children and did not open any of the presents. Well, except for the one where all the wrapping was ripped off, exposing the books. But what can you do? Wrapping paper isn’t Teflon, although I sometimes wish it was having a certain Southerner prowling for gifts in our homestead. But, I digress.

Sumi very much enjoyed her fluffy toy, and didn’t even seem to care that it was a rather feminine color. However, I’m sad to say that like most kids, she didn’t have much concept of “making it last”. (I don’t think any Shiba Inu is familiar with the concept of restraint, but again, I digress.) Read more…

I swear, the ways people reach my site. It’s a rather frightening peep into the psyches of others. Maybe this post category should be called “Analysis Of Search Terms“.

mcweeney smallman- Umm, not in this household, for a multitude of reasons.

rick moore karate- Yes, I am formerly of his school. What’s it to ya?

grown up christmas list- The lyrics are here; no, I won’t tell you what’s on my list.

wizbang spark plugs- Have Kevin and co branched out into auto parts?

women with short haircuts- Again, not in this house. Not that there’s anything wrong with short hair on women. Well, some women.

alleged peeping tom beaten and sodomized with a tree branch- Yup, I wrote about this, and that post is toast, figuratively speaking.

dar williams farewell to the old me- Great song, great artist. Feeling transitional much?

spark plug crack pipe- Uhhh, hmm. That contraption sounds even more dangerous than the usual crack pipe.

qusair mohamedbhai Huh?

That’s what it takes, in this day and age, to stay one step ahead of those creating viruses:

On Sunday, a hacker going by the name of Aviv Raff published sample code that could be used to take over the computers of Firefox users running version 1.0.4 or earlier of the browser. The exploit takes advantage of a known bug in the way Firefox processes the popular Javascript Web programming language.

Update to 1.5 if you haven’t already. And install FasterFox, too. It’ll speed things up nicely.

As ever, via Sherri, the Monday Reader Poll.

1. Are you going to any holiday parties this year? Yup, Friday night. It’s Bayou’s company Christmas party.

2. Are you traveling anywhere for the holidays? Other than to and from work, nope.

3. If you could have any gift you wanted, what would it be? Ummm…. hmm. I’m not sure it would be an actual object. Right now, I would give anything to shake my avoidance behavior and have supreme confidence. Barring that, a kayak would do.

4. How do you typically wrap your gifts? I pay/bribe/cajole/threaten/coerce others into doing it. Seriously, I am the worst present-wrapper ever. No joke.

5. Do you like to shop? Not really, no.

6. Do you prefer white or multi-colored lights on a Christmas tree? Totally depends on the tree.

7. What is your favorite winter-related smell? Cinnamon, which has always been a winter-identified scent to me.

8. Are you sending out any holiday cards this year? Not bloody likely. Never do.

9. Would you want to be this guy’s neighbor? [Work-safe, and you should make sure you have the volume on. Also, this house in in Ohio -- rock!] Can’t see the damnm video. Grr. I’m going to go out on a limb and say no.

10. Ask me something. How does one become a licensed grain-grader?

Dear Seattle Seahawks,

Another spectacular football game. Despite the fact that John Madden won’t give ya’ll the props and admit you are finally a contender for the Super Bowl, I hope the rest of the country and your conference rivals are taking notice. I mean hell, you’ve already sewn up the NFC West!

I can’t quibble much with anything about the game, except to say a few words about the officiating: it sucked, and it blew. But thankfully, it didn’t do too much damage to you. Now San Francisco, that’s another matter entirely. Let’s keep the focus where it belongs, though- on you.

Blown Call # 1- the taken away touchdown that my boy Joe Jurevicius had. Pass interference my ass!

Blown Call #2- the fumble that wasn’t called, which Lofa Tatupu picked up. I think that another 7 points or at least a great run ripped unceremoniously from your hands.

Blown Call #3- the pass interference call on Marcus Trufant. Marcus, you are often guilty of this infraction, but not that time. The klutzy ass dude fell alllll on his own.

All in all, a great game. I look very much forward to the expected trouncing of the hapless Titans. But I look forward even more to seeing you battle against the NFL Darling Of The Year, the Indianapolis Colts. Now in all fairness and disclosure, I’m a Colts fan. My mom’s from Indy, and I like Peyton Manning. I’m also a Browns fan, as a native Ohioan. Egads though, watching the Browns is like having a tooth pulled without anesthetic. Weekly.

But all that aside, I’m rooting for you, the Seahawks. Not because I want the Colts to founder like a race horse that’s been run too many times, and not because the Colts are 13-0. I’m rooting for your young, upstart, crazy asses because I think you have it in you to stop Peyton and his crew. I think you have it in you to make it All The Way.

And I and the rest of the 12th Man network will be with you, come win or come lose. Thanks for a great season, with more yet to come.

As ever,

~Lachlan

Looks like I’ve got a new park to check out, called the I-5 Colonnade Park.

In a cavernous space under the freeway, Andy Sheffer is witnessing a man-made rainstorm.

Water is shooting from overhead sprinklers, irrigating a palm tree that stands out among hundreds of massive concrete pillars holding up Interstate 5.

“It’s like a movie set, isn’t it?” said Sheffer, a city parks employee, pondering the public art project. “It looks stormy now. It looks like ‘Gilligan’s Island.’ ”

With lights that mimic the sun and moon, the sculpture will re-create daily weather patterns in 1960, before the highway project destroyed Eastlake homes and divided neighborhoods.

A small part of that damage will be repaired today as the city dedicates one of its largest and most unusual parks in years: the I-5 Colonnade.

The new 7.5-acre gathering place north of the Lakeview Boulevard offramp and underneath the freeway deck features an off-leash dog park, two landscaped picnic areas and dramatic views of Lake Union.

And by 2007, it will have a 2-acre mountainbike course.

This park is right near the area I first lived in when I moved here in 2000. If you can imagine the I-5 roadway, it really is 8 lanes of roadway dividing an otherwise gorgeous neighborhood. Underneath, there is dirt… and more dirt. And a lot of what was, until now, wasted space.

Seattle is becoming more densely packed, both with people and buildings. I hope we continue to see smart and savvy usage of spacess like the Colonnade area to create community areas for everyone. And since Seattle is historically a very dog-friendly area, it warms my heart to see there’s an offleash spot included. I mean, I looooove Magnuson Park, but it’s a hike and half from West Seattle. This one is a bit closer, so I look foward to visiting it, Sumi in hand, to see what creative minds and strong backs have wrought.

Things have been a bit hectic in our neck of the woods the past week. I feel like I’ve lost all sense of time and need a scorecard to keep track of appointments, events, and must-do lists. And no matter how much one might try to prepare, it always seems that this time of year is full up on “stuff”.

Gooooooal- Ohh, Err. Not.

Yesterday was my Tuesday soccer team’s championship game. Our record prior to yesterday was 9 wins, 0 losses, and 1 tie. The one tie was against the team we played yesterday. And after 90 minutes of what I like to term “pinball”, we racked up another tie, 0-0. But because of our superior record (including a goal differential, calculated based on how many goals scored and how many scored against us), we are still the Champions. Booorah, Headers! We rock. The scariest moment in the game was a penalty kick against us which thank jeebus, our kickass goalie Annie blocked. And then blocked a rebound attempt seconds later. She’s got my vote for MVP of the Season.

Of course, I had to take my usual beating during the game. My legs look like a bomb went off at my feet. I have more bruises than I have freckles. But, we’re off until at least the 8th of January, so I’ve got time to heal. And get fat and out of shape, too, so it’s a split decision. I hate the time off, but do enjoy the extra evening I get during the week.

The DVR, aka “Damnable Vexing Recorder”

Not quite two weeks ago, we ordered a DVR from Comcrap Comcast to be part of the “in” crowd who tapes their shows. (Because dog knows we need to sit in front of the tv, eat, and be generally vegetative.) However, I did something lamebrained and in retrospect, I have no idea what I was thinking.

I opted to install it, rather than have the cable company do it. Brilliant.

And thus the reason it sat for nearly two weeks. We couldn’t decipher the hieroglyphic-like instructions. It also didn’t help that we were given cables for an HDTV-ready tv, which we do not have and expressly told the morons at Comcastic we did not have.

But help came in the form of our buddy JMac, who for dinner and some yummy Bordeaux, hooked it up.

Of course, nothing is ever that simple. Despite JMac’s incredible expertise, something is wrong with the audio. About every 10-15 seconds there is this chirping/skipping noise, which totally ruins the viewing experience. And here I sit on my Sunday, awaiting the arrival of the Comidiot technician to fix the problem.

Christmas Notes, a la Lachlan

Some of my longtime readers know that I used to be quite Scroogish when it came to this time of year. I’ve either had a revelation or an undiagnosed head injury, because I am actually looking forward to the holidays. Maybe it’s my advancing years, or whatever. All I know is I find myself wishing it would snow, I’m not dreading gift buying (except for the “I’m broke as hell” aspect of things), and I am not totally sick over the fact that Bayou is going home. Things are shaping up to create a nice holiday season, I think. I know Bayou’s Christmas will be a bit more exciting, but I’m ok with it being sedate and solitary ’round here. Given the pace of work, I expect some quiet time will be beneficial before the clean-up that is January begins.

Because One Can Never Have Too Many Broken Electronics.

The final verdict on my pc? Deeeeeaaaaaaad. Dead, dead, dead. The 250g hard drive I brought (whose warranty died in June) is bad. I always suspected there was something funky with it, and now I am kicking myself for not returning it sooner. $200 or whatever it was down the drain. My lovely, wonderful, perfect iBook is running like a top, however. So I am set- until I want to upgrade said iBook, hehe. Which given the deadness of the big ol’ hard drive that never was, will probably be sooner than later.

And that’s all the boring news from here. What’s happening in your neck of the woods?

Neither did Liv, she -like yours truly- is merely reporting it.

What? Don’t look at me like that. It’s all natural and whatever. Birds and the bees, yadda yadda. But something tell me the yard owner’s electric bill is gonna skyrocket.

(Alternate post title: “Things You Wish You Could Return, But Can’t”)

So today started out on an interesting note. And by interesting, I mean amusing. Bayou, however, would beg to differ. I think her definition would lean closer to “Oh. My. GOD. EEEEEW!”

But I digress.

Sumi always gets up with me and goes outside while I get ready for work, and today was no exception. As I let her out, Gypsy sauntered out the door- also not an unsual occurrence. I didn’t think a thing about it until I heard Bayou say:

“Gypsy! What in the hell do you have in your mouth?!”

Right then, I suspected we were in for a feline version of last summer’s slugest. I came to the door, where Bayou was trying to keep Sumi in and still see what was happening. Sumi pranced around behind her doing her best to get out and go see what the commotion was about. Gypsy was crouched by the door with a rather large mass in her mouth.

I shooed dog and girl away from the door, as I could see the growing squick factor was about to turn Bayou’s Monday upside down. I told Gypsy to come in. She hopped up on the stoop, dropped her bounty on the doorstep, and ambled into the house.

A newly-dead sparrow.

Bayou handed me a paper towel, and I gently picked up the poor thing and wrapped it up. It was still warm, and relatively undamaged. I quickly disposed of it, and came back into the house. And I swear I never once thought about bird flu.

A few minutes later we went to leave, and Bayou directed my gaze to the birdfeeder. There beneath the tree, in Super Ultra Kitty Stealth mode, was Gypsy. She had flattened her black body against the ground, holding completely still, eyes on the Prize. We left her there, eyes fixed on the birdfeeder. I could almost hear her little kitty thoughts: “You don’t see me, there is not a corpulent housecat plastered to the pine needles on the ground. No, there is no cat anywhere near. Come feast without a care… that’s it, come to mama, err! The birdfeeder, I meant the birdfeeder…”

Will there be feathers in the yard when we get home? Quite possibly. But at least there are no slugs involved.

I wanted to take a moment and highlight a cool commenter who stopped by.

I’ve linked to him for a long time, for his exceptionally quick wit and funny perspective. He happened to stop by to comment on my lovely dog Sumi.

Pauly, thanks for the comment. I’ve been reading you for eons, and I am honored to see you pop by my humble blog. You’ve brought me many moments of out and out guffaws; as such I’m tickled to death that you hung out for a bit. For those of you unfamiliar with Pauly, he’s the genius behind Words For My Enjoyment, which is quite possibly the ultimate truth behind all writing. But that’s another post for a more philosophical day.

I feel like I just met a secret crush and just blubbered insanely all over myself. Heh.

Excuse me while I wipe any adultation-induced drool from my face.

For my grown-up Christmas list*, I want…

…for an end to conflict…
…for everyone to have a friend.
…for all hearts to be mended.
…and for love to never end.

*I paraphrase rather loosely, Jane, but thank you for the most superlative set ever. And thank you for reminding us of all who are suffering right now, this very minute, and their stories. Because they matter.

More detail to follow of the show, but for now, think about the words above and turn them into something positive, no matter how small.

Tonight marks the third time that Bayou and I have gone to see Jane Monheit peform at Jazz Alley.

Jane Monheit was born in the wrong era, in some ways. Like Bayou, who should’ve been a hippie in the 60′s, Jane seems like she should’ve been in prime during the 40′s. She possesses an amazing knack for interpreting (and thus furthering the longevity of) the old standards.

This is a special occassion for us. It’s like a Date Night, that comes once a year, in a very special form. We get dressed up (really), eat well, and have good wine while we listen to the most amazing voice I’ve ever heard.

Merry Christmas early to us, honey! Now if we could just get Jane wrapped in in a bow…or two. Read more…