List-o-tron

1. I've been playing a lot of basketball recently, mostly pick-up games at the A&M rec center

2. Beth and I have been using the crockpot quite a bit, mostly using recipes from here.

3. Don't ever ask me to repair brakes on a bicycle. My current set-up is pretty ridiculous. As you can see in the picture above, if I need to stop in a pinch, my method of last resort is to grip and rip on the yellow cloth towel.

4. At the cyclotron, my tasks for the moment are as follows:

a. constructing light pipes by bundling together optical fibers

b. playing with 4-hour cure silicone rubber for the purpose of making various molds and clamps

c. testing different methods for wrapping scintillator detectors

d. gluing things together with optical cement

5. Maybe Beth and I will go to the NAHBS this weekend in Indy.

Morningtime

Doc J starts his day feeling energized, having just scarfed down a delicious breakfast bagel from his favorite bagelry in town, Atomic Bagels. Actually he is not certain whether or not the bagels taste good or not, since he severely burnt his tongue drinking his piping hot cup of joe. Every morning is the same, he comes into his kitchen and starts up the ill-kempt coffee machine, a device at the leading technological edge of innovation in the field of bean percolation and tongue scorching. One can't help but notice immediately that the machine has taken a sound beating after only two weeks of operation. He readies the machine to make 12 cups of coffee, even though he fully well knows that he will drink a cup and a half at most. He loads the grinding attachment with an overabundance of grounds, not realizing that its true purpose is to produce grounds from beans. He even has the audacity to place a small, brown paper filter over the fine, gold permanent filter that comes included. Doc J doesn't have the time to take the care needed to make even the simplest of observations. The 1-3 cup option button's LED is blinking with a determined intensity, trying its darndest to let the good doc know that the water will be heated to nothing less than two times the necessary amount.

Doc J doesn't need instructions to ruin even the most intuitive of devices.

Fortunately for the poor device, the doc doesn't bother to blame it for the ultimately tender condition of his tongue and the roof of his mouth. He just stops to wonder if a burnt mouth is the newest, cool thing.

My Bicycle

This is how you turn a green and purple bike into a blue and yellow dream machine.

Thanks are in order for Mr. Sears who lent me his garage, some parts and tools, and his know-how; Beth for giving me ideas on how to paint the frame, and the dudes at Aggieland Cycles that installed my Shimano 105 headset for me.

The cranks, bottom, bracket, and track cog are from IRO Cycles. The gear ratio is 46/14, and the rims are Weinman DP18.

Weekly Roundup

1. Bicycle Decal of the Week!


2. Negative Anniversary Card of the Week!


3. Bicycle Frame of the Week!


4. Three Dimensional Solid of the Week!

This is how you turn a simple post into a nerdy post

Oh, here's where I left that blog. Awesome.

Ever since I linked this thing to Facebook, writing on here has lost its appeal. So that's out.

A list of things that are in:

1. Not Boston

2. Nuclear physics experiments

3. Rattle-can paint jobs on bicycle frames

4. Getting married in August and honeymooning in Belize

5. The picture in the latest SI of a shirtless Bob Uecker standing poolside and doing the play-by-play of Brewers' ping pong matches during their latest roadtrip

6. Beth's lemon bars

7. Jumping rope until your heart blows out of your chest ... you know, for kids

8. A team is not a team if you don't give a damn about each other

9. I swear that I don't read and write posts on Cleveland Browns message boards.

10. Wasting money on baseball cards

Something illuminating about gas prices

I typically get around on my bike, which, if you convert calories to gasoline, gets 3000 mpg. I got that from an article in the latest Bicycling magazine. To fact check that, one gallon of gas has 31,549 food calories, if you burn the gas under ideal conditions. So that means the writer estimates that you burn 10.5 Calories per mile on a bicycle. The wiki page on bicycle performance claims you burn 0.4 Calories/second over 15 seconds to accelerate to 25 mph and then burn 0.3 Calories/second to travel at an average speed of 25 mph. This means that the wiki page thinks you burn about 47 Calories per mile of bicycle riding instead, giving you a fuel efficiency of 675 mpg. Perhaps then the Bicycling magazine writer used a more modest estimate for a rider's average speed, maybe like 15 mph.

No one ever travels 3000 miles on bike in a single day, and you could probably achieve 675 miles over a week. So let's think about this in more real terms. An ABC poll in 2005 said that the average one-way commute distance to work is 16 miles. At almost $4 a gallon for gasoline and assuming a fuel efficiency of around 27 mpg, that would mean that the average commute to work today would cost roughly $2.40, probably more if you have to sit in traffic. Neglecting that this long of a bike ride would leave you a sweaty mess, at the going-all-out speed of 25 mph, you would burn 750 Calories. But at the calm pace that Bicycling magazine suggests, you would only require about 170 Calories. The tricky part now is estimating the cost of food. I don't know why anyone who would bike to work would also eat unhealthy food, but the average cost of high caloric junk food is $1.76/1000 Calories, meaning that depending on your pace, your one-way commute would cost between $.30 - $1.32. But everyone knows that people who are health conscious and ride bikes eat low calorie, nutritious food. At the study claimed astronomical price of $18.16/1000 Calories (which, by my experience actually sounds reasonable) then, your one-way commute jumps to a price that ranges from $3.08 - $13.62.

So, there you have it, I guess. In fuel consumption terms only, riding a bike can be more expensive than driving a car. Furthermore, since the cost of food and gasoline are fairly heavily correlated, no matter how high the price of gas becomes, riding may never be cheaper than driving. But, I would have to guess that riding a bike everyday and eating right makes you a better, healthier person. And there must be some value in that.

I was really surprised to find that in reality, the "3000 mpg" statement is completely misleading. When I first read that in the magazine, I thought to myself, "Wow, what a savings that will translate into!" (when I think to myself, I frequently speak like I'm selling a product) But alas, things are never so cut and dry.

ADDENDUM
My bicycle research colleague Matt, pointed out that on occasion, we'll buy this ridiculous mass-gainer product in a bottle as a post-workout supplement. We've always viewed buying these as an extravagant 1000 Calorie convenience since they cost roughly $4/bottle at the rec center here. In reality though, accepting the claim that the price of quality whole foods is very high, we were actually making an economic choice.

Of course, you should use this product as a dietary supplement, and if you drank a whole bottle before hopping on a bike, you'd have the worst stomach ache ever. But, in the scenario where you wake up in the morning before work, maybe eat something light to get the metabolism going, hop on the bike, ride 16 miles at a moderate pace (at the extreme pace of 25 mph, you would burn $3 on this trip), and then drink this product or one of their non-mass gaining alternatives to replenish your body then you would finally realize fuel savings with the health benefits that riding has to offer.

10 things

!. I finally have a research advisor and should be ready to defend my master's thesis by this time next year.
2. I have approximately two semesters of classes left, including this one.
3. I would like a subscription to Scientific American. After reading the previous issue on obesity and undernourishment, I feel like some kind of friggin' expert.
4. Time to go puppy shopping!
5. GK: …….after a message from Bebopareebop Rhubarb Pie and frozen pie filling.
6. "I lost my contact! But it's ok because I still won the spelling bee."
7. It was good to get back to "America's Roller Coast."
8. Where's an egg?
9. I have a new cellphone and approximately one and one-third of an old cellphone.
10. Favoriddddddsssss!

Potentiometers (Beginners' Guide to Pots)

Potentiometers (Beginners' Guide to Pots)

I'm really excited about the Browns drafting both Joe Thomas and Brady Quinn yesterday. Already, the Browns brass and Cleveland media are talking of a reversal of the sad fortunes of the franchise since '89. I don't know if I'm ready to commit to that, but, as this picture from Brady Quinn's childhood suggests, I'm sure that we are all constantly living under the tremendous shadow of Bernie Kosar's greatness...and that guy didn't even go to the Super Bowl.



I can't wait to home and search for my Hutch brand Bernie jersey and helmet.

Some Things

I guess I haven't written anything in quite some time. Here's a rundown of some stuff I've been up to as of late.

1. I've been watching The Venture Bros. on DVD.

2. I'm following Major League Baseball extraordinarily close and hoping to move up in the vaunted TAMU Physics Fantasy Baseball League. I'm currently mired in place 8 of 10, but I'll be sure to wheel and deal my way up to the top.

3. I was in Bloomington, IN last weekend to see Beth and got to see the Little 500 bike race. I now want a sleek, light road bike more than ever. As an aside, if you've ever seen the movie Breaking Away or are from Bloomington, you may be interested to know that the Cutters team won. Team Cinzano was there in full-force as well and had a respectable finish.

4. I've recently purchased new NIN and new Bloc Party albums. They're both hot.

5. When flying to Indiana last weekend, I had the pleasure of sitting with two drunk 40 year olds on their way back home from vacationing in Cancun. Their names are Steve and Jim, both divorced. Jim was just recently divorced and is currently staying with Steve until he gets his bearings, as it were. I suppose they took the trip to Cancun to clear their heads...or actually to do the exact opposite of that. At any rate, Jim used to work for his ex-father-in-law. As is wont to happen, after divorcing his daughter, the father-in-law summarily fired Jim and tried to stiff him of his last paycheck and some severence pay. He also tried to make him pay for the nine year old BMW he had given Jim, but instead Jim told him to fuck off. After some court dates, Jim managed to get a nice $10,000 payday from his ex-father-in-law. Good for him. But the icing on the proverbial cake is yet to come. Jim has been talking to his ex-father-in-law's brother, who owns a competing business and does not get along with his brother too well. Jim and the brother are working on an arrangement to buy out the ex-father-in-law's company.

Now how's that for some Dynasty shit for you?

The plane ride was extremely amusing because the two of them were imbibing in alcoholic drinks for the entirety of the two and a half hour plane ride. So of course, the two of them were crass, rude, and hilarious towards everyone around them. I'm fairly certain that the ladies seated around us and the various female flight attendants are still in trauma over the delightful affair.

If I only had a brain...

1. OH SNAP!
2. Italo Calvino, Golem, and so much more can be yours if you go to see Stranger than Fiction. I enjoyed seeing Dustin Hoffman reprise a role similar to the one he played in I *heart* Huckabees.
3. I enjoy 1920s era furniture: We've done gone streamline crazy, y'all.
4. I, much like Eddie Albert, am often cast as the friendly, good-natured buddy of the hero.
5. "Fred darling, I'd marry you for your money in an instant."
6. Folk Art is my favorite form of Folk Anything.
7. "Terminal E is far cooler than Terminal C." -- me to a stranger I met at the Houston airport
8. Am I the only person excited about the new Rocky movie?
9. Yay green bean rigamarole!
10. "I was a turmite. I be inside the gueen turmite. It lad eggs, and I be baby turmite one day. I like insects. Would you like to meet my seester?" -- lil kazoo

Hungry, Hungry Hippos

For the past two some odd weeks I've been fasting everyday from sunrise to sunset in celebration of Ramadan. Now I'm roughly halfway through it.

The hardest days have been Saturdays when there is a home football game during the day. On Saturday mornings we go play soccer against the Chinese or Nigerians, so I'm already feeling drained before we even leave to go watch the game. Then at the football game, there is a lot of standing and yelling going on out in what normally feels like 100 degree weather. The end result is an extremely taxing, but strangely gratifying, day.

The best days are when I can find the time to take long naps during the day. In a lot of ways I'm becoming increasingly nocturnal, but there is a period of time in the afternoon where I can be extremely productive. At any rate, my muslim friend Jonathan was right in making the observation that we spend a lot of time everyday in procuring, eating, or digesting food (or in the very least, food product).

During the day, my range of emotions extends from glum and sullen to confused and easily distracted. I have a very difficult time staying awake during lectures because of my erratic sleeping and inability to consume caffeine during the day. On the other hand, I generally feel less anxious during the day.

Once the night rolls around and I get some food into my nutrition starved body, I feel like there is no limit to what I can do physically. During the summer I started working out regularly with Jonathan, and so I originally wanted to fast during Ramadan out of deference to him. With the start of Ramadan, we decided to change our workout schedule such that we would be lifting in the evenings, so that we would have a chance to consume some protein before going to lift. We wait to eat dinner until after working out. The remarkable thing is that in the past two weeks I've been getting stronger in the gym. The gains almost seem radical. In the traditional benchmarks for strength, the bench press and the squat, I've blown by my previous bests.

For all the impressive strength gains though, I've never felt weaker when doing cardio exercises. When I bike to school or run or play soccer, I feel like I lack explosiveness and energy. It's most frustrating when playing soccer because I don't feel competitive in the least.

I hoped that fasting would help me regain some feeling of focus. To some extent that has happened, but I'm not completely certain. Feeling fatigued and slightly sick is quite a distraction after all. In general though, I feel different from the person I was. I have no sense of whether or not it is for the better. I'm more aware of my physical abilities and limitations, and everyday is a constant reminder.

The most subtle observation of myself that I've made during this time is in seeing more fully how my lack of a strong spiritual life is affecting me. I think that is the one aspect of my life that I've been in denial over for the longest time. I feel like I've been making strong claims without conviction to my own faith. It's seriously disturbing, but when I look around at my friends, in a superficial sense, there seems to be no sense of urgency or moral dilemna in regards to making a spiritual life for oneself. I didn't think it was necessarily a problem, because I felt so strongly that it was a private matter. That sentiment could not be further from the truth. I feel like I have to bring myself out of a deep and long abiding coma.

That subtle desire must be the true reason why I ended up fasting with two good friends. Doing this for any other reason would be disastrous.

What I look forward to most during Ramadan is yet to come. One of the nights during the last ten days is called the "Night of Power." Staying awake for the whole night in prayer on this night is akin to receiving three-thousand times the blessings. We're not going to necessarily spend the whole night in prayer, but we'll watch movies and have good conversation.

Resuscitation Instructor

Today, I received student reviews of my teaching from the sections I taught last spring.

Here are some random comments:

1) His strengths lie in his person; his weaknesses, nonexistent.
2) Button is very knowledgable, funny, and promptly responded to e-mails. Good at answering all questions, cares whether or not students understood the concepts.
3) First one I've ever had that could effectively communicate using the english language.
4) So nice, willing to help...
5) Jonathan was flexible...
6) Weakness: Long-winded; Strength: Spoke good english
7) He isn't well-prepared. It is rare if he finishes a problem w/ the correct answer...is likely he will confuse you. I like his grading style, and he's nice and funny.
8) Hard to follow. Always late.
9) He was great.

So there you have it, I seem to have opened to mixed reviews. The consensus clearly was that I showed a lot of concern and patience, although that did not always translate to being effective as a teacher.

So far this semester, I feel that I've been well-prepared for every recitation period. But the lab periods tend to be a nightmare because of the equipment or because of how the lab instructions are written.

Oh well...

The Sun Also Rises...

1. Being a T.A. for three sections of freshmen engineer students is hilarious.
2. I am going to observe Ramadan.
3. I'm having a week of strange coincidences.
4. Almost dropping an 85 lb. dumbell on your face is no laughing matter.
5. The Indians are complete garbage right now, and that makes me sad.
6. Who's the last MOID standing tonight?
7. Irish Car Bombs.
8. Ms. Kazoo never ceases to surprise me.

boom SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!! BOOOM popopopopop

Friday night is fireworks night at Jacobs Field.

Almost One Year of Incessant Rolling

After quite the long hiatus, I'm back in College Station for another fun-filled year of getting kicked around hard in my classes and suffering through some rather intolerable heat (of the type emanated from my loins and otherwise).

A rather simple itinerary of the past two weeks:

1. I flew to Indianapolis, got picked up by Beth, and drove with her to Cleveland.
2. Surprised my brother at the AMC theater where he works with some help from his girlfriend Nora. We then all watched Talladega Nights (Shake 'n' Bake and whatnot).
3. Three Indians games in two days: a Friday night fireworks night special against the Royals won in the final at-bat by a Grady Sizemore triple to leftfield, a Saturday day/night doubleheader (first game's promo was "pick from a random smattering of the current season's other promos" and the second game's promo was a Drew Carey bobblehead giveaway). The Indians won all three games (and swept the series the following day).
4. Went to this nice Irish pub and restaurant by the name of Nighttown in Cleveland Heights to listen to some live jazz and eat fine food out on a patio complete with outdoor waterfall.
5. Rented Movies: I *heart* Huckabees, Mannequin, Waking Ned Devine, Keeping the Faith, and Made.
6. Ate far too many of my mother's egg rolls in one sitting.
7. Pushed Beth around on an adult-sized stroller (severely sprained ankle) through the Cleveland Metroparks Zoo.
8. Contracted some disgusting sinus/cold thing.
9. Drove to Bloomington, Indiana with Beth so that she could be present for her random assortment of orientation functions.
10. Watched too much Sex in the City.
11. Read books one through three of the Harry Potter series.
12. Flew back to College Station.

Ball of Misshapen Clay

1. I've long held the position that the best way to defuse an awkward situation is by sticking one's fist into one's mouth.

I present to you exhibit A:



2. I'm packing up my things and preparing to move away from the (now cut down) dead tree and the water sewage treatment plant for greener, livelier, and less odiferous pastures.

3. In packing up my things, one of the relics that I unearthed from the mounds of stuff that formerly occupied my room was a coupon for a free game at the Pisgah Lanes, courtesy of the Sunset Motel.

I'm glad I still have it because it is one of the few things that remain as a reminder of the wonderful time I had in the mountains of western North Carolina. At any rate, it's a reminder that I still like old timey toy stores, antique shops, and dances on Main St.

Going to North Carolina last summer really helped me to unwind from all the stress of living at home. Working out daily, playing video games all night, and going to Indians games is such a hard life.

I'm definitely paying for it now though. Video games all night has been replaced by late night experiments investigating how light interacts with matter. And Indians games have been dutifully relieved of their post by adventures in the machine shop. Luckily, I only have one or two cuts on my hands while working big, powerful lathes, mills, and band saws.

As my E&M professor from last Spring would attest, "When you live by the hose; you die by the hose."

4. Why are the Indians playing so bad? I personally feel that they got too complacent after last season and came to rely too heavily on their offensive prowess. They still hit very well (albeit in a streaky way). Such fundamental skills as good baserunning and solid defensive glovework and throwing are definitely not trademarks of the '06 Tribe. Furthermore, the losses of Arthur Rhoades, Kevin Millwood, and Bob Howry in the off-season have proved too costly.

Oh well, there's much to look forward to for next year. I like Fausto Carmona at closer. Maybe we'll get to see Andy Marte over at third (if they end up trading Aaron Boone as well, which I think they will).

But I will be devastated if the Indians let "Sophisticated" Ron Belliard walk in this up-coming off-season. I love that guy.

I get to go home for a week or so after the summer sememster ends in two weeks. I can't wait to make my triumphant return to the Jake. Whatever that means.

5. Now I know why I'm trying to be a physicist and not a machinist. Machining is difficult. I thought maybe the knowledge of being a good machinist would be passed down through the genetic code, since my grandpa worked as one at a tool and die company in Middlefield, OH. Sadly, that is not the case though.

My Dad on a Drive

Once upon a time, a local radio station in Cleveland used to play classic rock exclusively. Then one day, the dreaded format change occurred, and the radio station became a much edgier, hip haven for all things alternativo.

When I was in the seventh grade, I remember having a tournament basketball game across town. My dad drove me, and the car was virtually silent the whole way there and back, save for the radio pumping out its alternative-style tunes. I don't really recall if we won the game or not, I suppose there was nothing all that remarkable about the game. But on the way back from that game, a strange thing happened. The alternative music stopped, and some sex talk show started.

I should have realized that this would happen. After all, I had listened to this particular station late at night. But the shock was too much, and there seemed to be this odd implicit agreement between my father and I that if he could take it, then so could I. Things became uncomfortable in a hurry. Callers called in with the strangiest of sexual queries. I was astounded and dismayed, in the usual adolescent way. I could only imagine what my dad was thinking as the topics of lesbian experiences, sex toys, and group meet 'n' greets came up across the airwaves. No matter how awkward the situation in the car got though, I was definitely not going to be the one to give in.

I stayed strong until some jackass called in to complain about the effects of humping leopard print sheets. I lost it. For some reason, that was just too much to handle. I changed the station right away. Neither of us ever talked about it.

The above situation was pretty bad. As you can imagine though, things can get worse.

Naturally, as I got older and entered high school, my prurient interests merely enlarged in scope and size, aided and abetted by the worlds and vistas offered by the wonder of dial-up internet connection. My dad was driving me into downtown Cleveland where my school is located, and we were having our typical quiet car time. Out of the blue, he says, "I found some interesting pictures on the computer of a girl going down on a guy." I replied that this was very strange. He then said, "Don't ever do that again. If your mother were to find those, you'd be dead." Clear, concise, and to the point; this was typical of him. We then continued our quiet ride, and I had much to think and be ashamed about.

I learned to at least be very diligent when cleaning out any and all internet file caches.

Perhaps things can get worse than that.

When I was in high school, I spent one of my summer vacations working with my dad at a furniture store where he was the stock manager. The store was looking for extra help as it began remodelling. It was pretty hard work, but the experience was well worth it. One day, I had it particularly rough. We moved a lot of things. I probably broke a couple hundred dollars worth of merchandise. I was yelled at for something. Towards the end of the day, I had to move around a large stack of floor tiles. Per my usual doing the summertime, I probably didn't sleep too much the night before. So as the end of the day drew near, I was definitely ready to go.

I don't really remember what triggered what happened next. I just remember being very mad and upset and wanting to quit. But I didn't say anything. After closing time, I got into the car with my dad and started bawling my eyes out. I cried the entire way home. I didn't look once at my dad though. I was just staring out the window, trying to muffle any sound. I felt terrible, weak, and pathetic. But I would have felt worse if my dad asked me about it, and so I tried as hard as I could to not let him see.

Of course, it would impossible to miss the sight of your first born son crying his eyes out in the seat next to you while on a car ride home. But I guess he understood and knew not to say anything.

It doesn't seem to be in his nature to do otherwise. Although he was short on advice, he knew when to bail me out of trouble.

At any rate, I was fine by the next day, and the rest of the summer was an enjoyable one.

I had been thinking about what I'd be like as a father. I think that I'd be the type to say a lot of things and make a lot of speeches. When I get going, I can be long-winded like that. Over the course of three vehicular moments which may or may not have been pivotal in my formation from adolescence into adulthood, my father had a sum total of about six or seven words. I don't want to think of my dad as being afraid to talk to me, so I'm going to suppose that he knew what he was doing. Besides, there was much strength behind his silent messages. And he respected me enough to be able to figure it all out later. Truly, one can make his presence strongly felt and his message heard without any degree of loudness.

responsibility is like the sky.

'I told Bird it's like the sky, boy. Is what I told her. How about if I come and ask you what does the sky feel like to you? The sky ain't a feeling, boy...But it's there, friend. The sky is there. It's there, over your ass, every fucking day. 'Matter where you go, boy, look on up, and on top of every goddamned thing else she's there. And the day there ain't no sky...'
-- "Lyndon" by David Foster Wallace

larfing

NEWS YOU CAN USE!

so i read this, and i was like...why in the world am i going to the gym, when all i have to do is laugh some more....it's pretty simple, all i need is someone to tickle me for an hour straight.

and then that reminded me of what happened earlier. see, my uncle's car is sitting in our driveway behind my dad's minivan thing. and so, when my mom is also parked in the garage, it's really, tremendously difficult to back the minivan thing out.

so today, i was driving my brother to his baseball game, and i had to take the van and back it out with my mom's car still in the garage. 10 minutes elapsed without me being able to back the van out successfully...and that's when i looked at scott, who was in tears from laughing at me so hard, and i said, 'well it looks like i failed maneuverability.'

at that point, i also decided it would be easier to just drive the van through the lawn...but, scott talked me out of that. and then we tried looking at the directions to the baseball field, because i thought maybe mapquest knew how to get the van out of the driveway.

and then i called my dad using scott's cellphone....and told him that i was lost.

and he asked me what i meant...so i said that i'm in the driveway still.

and he said, 'what do you mean you're in the driveway?'

and then i said, "i've been trying to get out of the driveway for the past 15 minutes."

and then i tell him that the directions for getting out of the driveway are wrong...and at that point, he hangs up on me, walks to the driveway, and tells me to get the fuck out of the driver's seat....and so i do that, and he backs the car out in 10 seconds.

and scott is still crying from laughing so hard...and i'm laughing and sweaty for some ungodly reason...and it was a good time....cept i looked stupid. and i think my license is now invalid because i can't back out of a driveway.

this all occurred about a year and a month ago.

8 Things to Drink to

1. A tribute to Buehner, Martinez, and Martinez: the most fearsome threesome to encounter in an opposing lineup while playing the famed Super Nintendo game, Ken Griffey, Jr.'s Major League Baseball.

Nevermind that the game was Ken Griffey's; the fact remains that Jay Buehner, Edgar Martinez, and Tino Martinez collectively made their stamp on the land of video game folklore by being true mashers with no apparent holes in their swings. The format of the truly arcade style video game played well to their greatest strength: speaking quietly and carrying extremely large, wooden bats.

In order to provide lineup protection for a player of Ken Griffey's ability, it was necessary to have not one, but three, superbly talented batters in order to force pitchers to even think about giving young Kenneth a proper pitch worth swinging the ol' lumber at. Buehner, Martinez, and Martinez used their privileged position atop the bully pulpit of major league lineups to preach the goodness and moral fiber inherent to swinging away (at a pixelated baseball whose movement is restricted to only two degrees of freedom).

2. A tribute to tubing: the laziest way to enjoy the great outdoors.

During my latest trip back to the cornfields of Indiana, Beth and I went tubing down Sugar Creek, courtesy of the Sugar Valley Canoe and Fun Company.

Despite having to make a number of textile, taciturn, talcum-powdered, tarrytown-ed, troubadour-faced, Tarkentonian maneuvers; the journey down the Sugar Creek (although I much prefer the Little Potato Creek, the creek of ill-repute) was generally a leisurely one due to the easy moving current, sunny skies, and sparse population of annoying, fellow travellers.

3. A tribute to Facebook: When my little brother Facebooked me, it made official the fact that he is going to be in college and that my parents will be all to their lonesome for most of the year.

My parents were married for several years before having my brother and I; and during those years, as the photographic evidence suggests, they travelled the country quite a bit and did fun things (such as visiting the Corn Palace and dressing up in some interesting 19th century fare). I guess those fun things had to come to an end since Scott and I are quite the handful. Maybe things will change for my parents now that we're both out of the house. To what end, I'm not very certain (maybe that garden will come to shape and the last vestiges of the house's 70's past and style will be completely banished to postmodern oblivion), but for once, I might be curious as to their goings-ons.

My suggestion: College Station has a ripe, open market for the opening of an egg roll shop.

4. A tribute to the Egg Roll House: Even when I was an REU student at the cyclotron facility at TAMU, this local establishment looked to be firmly in the throes of foreclosedness. This building looks so closed and so sad. It is enough to make a grown-man with the personality of a twelve year old to openly weep in despair.

Seeing this place for the first time was like finally finding Paradise, only to find that it had been shutdown due to the ineptness of new management or because of a hybrid-super-disaster (hurricanadonamiquakelcano). An Egg Roll House is my Dream House, whether it be that the walls are papered in egg roll wrapper or that there are running egg roll taps throughout the house (a service provided by the local lumpia utility, to be sure).

But perhaps, now my calling in life is clear.

5. A tribute to crazy dreams: Indiana seems to bring about the best in crazy dreams for me.

In two nights, my brother's music video (a love ballad featuring mostly head shots of Scott) debuted on MTV2, the Indians had an AMAZING laser light and firework show, I got re-aquainted with an old, highschool friend of mine, and Britney Spears chased me around her palatial estate (presumably trying to make-out with me, but I'm not sure).

Sleeping in Indiana seemingly challenges the shape of possible topological shapes in my dreamscape. For instance, I had a dream that I was telling my Physics Grad friend Matt that I had a dream where Britney Spears tried to make-out with me. Upon telling him this though, Matt excitedly told me that he had the exact same dream. Then the next night, I had a dream where i was having a conversation with Matt and his girlfriend, and I told them that I had a dream where I was having a conversation with Matt about how we both had the Britney Spears make-out dream.

If I have a similar dream tonight though, I would have to say that my dreamcenter's originality has been seriously compromised and is thoroughly exhausted.

Since I taped Scott's music video as it debuted, maybe I'll be able to watch it in a later dream.

6. A tribute to Ben Folds: I was sad that I missed the chance to see him this summer at Bonnaroo, which seems to be his only U.S. appearance for the year.

I haven't had any dreams of making out with him, but I would like to move down to Australia and be his next-door neighbor. That would be really strange to be able to go outside and say, "Hey Ben Folds, I'm going to put some shrimp on the barbie so come by this evening."

7. A tribute to old-timey toy stores in small-town Indiana: For the low, low price of $9.99, I could have been the proud owner of a Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man figurine.

To truly fire up the smoldering embers of my deep sense of sentimentality and mawkish attitude toward all things Ghostbuster, this particular establishment would have to proffer up the glow-in-the-dark stuffed version of my favorite marshmallow man.

So, instead, I opted for Major League Baseball by LCJ, the 1988 classic video game for the original Nintendo Entertainment System. That particular season's Cleveland Indian lineup featured unforgettable stars such as Cory Snyder, Joe Carter, and Greg Swindell. This team should have contended for a pennant, in my highly biased opinion, and now I have the ability to make this dream of a star-struck five year old a reality.

The fact that Beth owns and operates a Nintendo Entertainment System out of her apartment and that she is my girlfriend is no mere coincidence.

8. A tribute to my knee: I politiely decline to reveal why.