planetdan

Thursday, November 19, 2009 :::

The Case of the Missing Subway Sandwich

I've been very busy at work lately, and combine that with the upcoming holidays and the BBOP stinking up the back of my closet(see below), I've been fairly distracted. Which is probably why I lost my Subway sandwich for a good 45 minutes today.

I had used my lunch hour to pick up two ginormous armfuls of drycleaning and a low-fat Buffalo Chicken. I'm the kind of guy who needs to do everything in one trip, no matter how difficult. So with about fifty pounds of clothing in each arm and a fountain drink balanced in the middle, I trudged through my garage, avoided my dirty wet car, took off my shoes, walked up two flights of stairs, and got to my closet without spilling a drop.

After the relief of hanging up the heavy clothes I realized that the only thing missing was my Subway sammich.

My first distressing thought was that it had fallen onto the dirty garage floor, but upon inspection there was no sign of it. I looked inside the car and under the seats. I retraced my steps from the garage to the bedroom. I even checked the kitchen fridge (although how it would have gotten there would have been an even bigger mystery). No sammich.

I thought back to being at the Subway. I could remember walking out of the place with the fountain drink, but was I actually carrying the Subway bag, too? I had no recollection of it. So I drove back to Subway, scanning the gutters and sidewalks along the way just in case I had left it on the top of my car or it had somehow managed to fall out of the window. No sammich.

Back at Subway, I didn't want to run up to the counter and say "'Scuse me, sir, but have you seen a sandwich? I lost my sandwich. Can anyone help me find my sandwich?" so I discreetly checked the soda station and the potato chip bin. No sammich. I carefully peeked around the corner to the front counter to see if there was an unaccounted for bag patiently waiting for its owner's return. No sammich. I resisted the urge to purchase a replacement.

I walked the same path back to my car, looking carefully at my feet for any dropped items. No sammich.

Back at home I started to get angry. How does a sandwich just disappear? I rechecked all the places I had already rechecked. I found my receipt to make sure that I had indeed purchased a sandwich in the first place. Everything seemed to be in order. Still no sammich.

On an impulse I went back up to my bedroom closet and stared at the drycleaning. I had gone to the drycleaners BEFORE the Subway, so I couldn't have left the sandwich there. Exasperated, I absentmindedly punched one of my drycleaning bags to let out a little steam, and out from between the two big bags of laundered suits, shirts, and slacks fell my missing sack lunch. Relief enveloped me like a warm summer breeze.

Unfortunately, the sandwich turned out to be not worth the hassle. Never stray from ordering your usual at a place like Subway. You'll always be disappointed.

Upon retelling the story to C-Minus, she found the silver lining: at least I hadn't given up on the search and found the sandwich weeks later after it had turned to a smelly bag of liquid rot.

::: posted by dan at 12:34 PM :: [ link ] :: (2) comments

Wednesday, November 18, 2009 :::

I Can Haz Ancient Internet Memes on Jeopardy for 200 Alex.

And two years later, Jeopardy finally caught up to the Internet today:

What was really strange was that Alex said the name of the category with a Russian accent, and the contestants followed suit. I never imagined that cat to have a Russian accent. I thought it would be more American Yokel. Maybe Cockney British. But never Russian.

::: posted by dan at 5:25 PM :: [ link ] :: (1) comments

Monday, November 16, 2009 :::

My Dilemma

So I've gotten myself into a little dilemma RE: The Big Box of Porn (BBOP) I Found in My Garbage. It's just sitting in the back of my closet collecting dust and I've started to worry about the hopefully-unlikely event of my untimely death due to some unforeseen accident or terrorist attack. It's just begging to be discovered by some unsuspecting innocent relative as they battle through their grief to clean out my house, and how would I ever be able to explain myself from beyond the grave?

But seriously, none of my friends seem want the BBOP (or maybe they just don't want to admit that they want the BBOP). I've only received one reader request for the BBOP, but I started thinking about that option and the question arose: What if he's just some pimply 15-year-old kid pretending to be of legal age, and I go and ship the box off to him, and his mom intercepts this BBOP from dan in Minneapolis addressed to her adolescent son? Not good.

I can't put it up on Craigslist because I don't want some creepy porn perv coming to my house to collect the goods, and I certainly don't want to venture out of the house with the BBOP to make a delivery.

It seems that the only real option is to allow the BBOP to be destroyed or to be hauled away with the worthless refuse, which is unfortunate. But I don't want to put it back in my own garbage because god knows who might find it there or what the garbage man might think (besides "jackpot!"), and I don't want to shove it in someone else's garbage and force them into the same dilemma in which I find myself right now.

I could find some sort of public trash option, but that seems a little too out in the open, and I don't know anyone who lives in an apartment who might be able to anonymously dispose of the thing.

I could throw them away one-at-a-time I suppose, buried deep within the trash and surrounded by a dozen dirty Lean Cuisine containers. But that just seems like such an awful, shameful way to die. What did the BBOP ever do to deserve such a fate?

Seriously. What am I supposed to do with this BBOP? It's becoming a real burden. I see some sort of Aesop Fable hidden somewhere in this tale, something slightly askew of the "careful what you wish for..." school of thought.

::: posted by dan at 12:59 PM :: [ link ] :: (6) comments

Thursday, November 05, 2009 :::

The Trashman's Delight

I went to toss out some garbage the other day, and sitting right on top of a week's worth of trash was this big box of old-school pornography videos:

I immediately assumed that the old coot across the alley was using my trash bin to get rid of his pornography stash without tipping off his old lady. Or maybe someone else in the neighborhood was finally making the upgrade to DVD. Regardless, I had to make the decision: rescue the videos from my garbage or let the sanitation department dispose of them as someone clearly intended.

Having worked in a video store for almost five years in my youth, I know much more about old Triple-X videos than necessary, and I could tell that some of these videos in particular were classics, starring the likes of John Holmes and Ron Jeremy. It seemed like a shame to send them off to the landfill. But on the other hand, I'm not exactly a porn video type of guy, and rescuing them would mean: a) reaching into my garbage can, and b) touching somebody else's porn collection. Neither of which seemed very appealing or advisable to me.

And yet, I reached into the garbage can.

I have one friend in particular who I thought would be thrilled to adopt the big box of mystery pornography, but to my surprise he was not interested. "Who even owns a VCR anymore?" was his ungrateful reply. And he's right. So now I got a big box of pornography videos hidden in my closet like a guilty teenager or something, and I have no idea what to do with them. Plus I'm afraid to touch them.

Any ideas? Or, should I take a vote:

Vote A for: Throw them back in the trash where they belong, you freak.
Vote B for: Hold onto them until you can find a grateful recipient.
Vote C for: OMG can I have them please? Send them to:

P.S. I'll hate to see what this post does to my Google Ads.

P.P.S. Sky Pies. LOL.

::: posted by dan at 9:30 PM :: [ link ] :: (19) comments

Wednesday, November 04, 2009 :::

Vote Lombard!

So I voted yesterday, of course. We got a new voting method in Minneapolis which lets you rank your top three preferences for each position in order of preference. Which is a good thing, because our choices for Mayor this year were too interesting to be able to pick just one:

Guess who my third choice was?

VOTE LOMBARD, 2009!

This isn't the first time I've posted a picture of our voting ballot. We always seem to have odd voting options in Minneapolis. Is it just the Midwest or what gives? Does everybody else have odd party titles like we do or should I really be proud to live where you can run on the "Is Awesome" ticket?

I'm also curious about what word was "censored" from Bob Carney Jr's party title. My assumption is "asshole," but in politics I guess you really never can know for sure.

P.S. The name Lombard reminds me way too much of Office Space, and one phrase from that film in particular. Can anyone guess of which phrase I speak?

::: posted by dan at 8:06 PM :: [ link ] :: (7) comments

Sunday, November 01, 2009 :::

Final Destination: Death by Homeownership

My house tried to kill me today.

I'm not a handyman. Nor am I a good homeowner. I don't know what I'm doing, I have no idea how to work tools or fix faucets, and I'm awkward and clumsy to boot. Somehow I manage to keep the place together and just short of ramshackle, but it's a constant battle. Especially when it comes to the Fall yardwork.

Today was gutter cleaning day.

I've neglected this task for the last couple years, and the normally-charming-looking vines on the back of my house had taken over. I knew it would be ugly up there, but I could no longer push off the chore. I grabbed some thick rubber gloves, a pair of dull scissors for trimming away the unwanted foilage, and an ancient aluminum extension ladder that I inherited from my dad years ago.

The ladder is ginormous, and it has an old rope attached to one end that loops around it. I've never been able to ascertain the function of the rope but I've always figured that it must be there for a purpose so I've never dared to remove it. Trying to maneuver the unwieldly monster ladder while simultaneously trying to avoid getting caught up in the mystery rope is a considerably arduous task. I probably look like an Abbott and Costello movie most of the time.

As I positioned the metal bohemoth against the back of my one-and-a-half-story home, the height suddenly looked incredibly imposing. The ladder was perilously perched twenty feet above the ground against a sagging gutter and directly next to a power line. I made sure I had my cell phone in my pocket (just in case I survived whatever disaster was in store for me), I took a deep breath, and I began my ascent.

Climbing the ladder with a garbage bag in one hand and a pair of rusty scissors in the other didn't improve my confidence. The rubber gloves on each hand were most effective at masking the small amount dexterity I might have had left. I started to imagine a morbid death scenario like the ones that play out in those Final Destination movies. I wasn't sure if my death would be by falling, impaling, electrocution, or - knowing those movies - some ghastly combination of the three.

So I took my time and worked deliberately, my hands soaked in putrid mold-water, pulling out years worth of dead vines, rotting leaves, and a substance that was technically not poop but looked and smelled like it was at least related in some way. Halfway through the task, the rotting substance was smeared all over my face, soaked into my clothes, and splattered all over the ground below. The garbage bag filled up quickly and became almost too heavy to bear. The over-extended extension ladder wobbled beneath my feet. The gutter creaked underneath the weight of it all. The sun disappeared behind a cloud.

I heard my neighbor's door open and I looked over just in time to see a black cat scurry out, stop dead in its tracks, and stare directly at me. I thought, "That's funny, I never knew they had a black cat." But it must have sensed the impending doom because it quickly turned around and scurried back inside before the door ever had a chance to close. I took it as a sign and carefully started to climb back down the ladder, one step at a time.

It was at the second to last step when my right foot slipped on a glop of wayward non-poop, my left foot got caught in the mystery rope, and I started to fall backwards toward the ground. I was close enough to the bottom to know I wouldn't get seriously hurt, so my main concern became to avoid landing directly on the garbage bag of barfy compost. I tried to toss the bag to the side but it was too heavy, and the attempt threw off the balance of the ladder, sending it sliding down the gutter toward the power lines. I landed with a thud on my back, with my left leg still caught up in the ladder. The bag of mold and rot landed with a splat, speckling my face with a million droplets of oily sludge.

Miraculously, the sliding ladder was stopped in its sliding tracks by a vine before it could act as a conduit for my electrocution. But the jarring motion had knocked loose the scissors that I had mistakenly left on the top rung, and so they came flipping down the ladder, bouncing and sliding from rung to rung.

I instinctively covered my face and head with my arms until the clang of the falling scissors stopped, but I felt nothing pierce my gut or impale my neck so I slowly lowered my arms and opened my eyes, one at a time. I looked down at my chest, torso, and legs, but the scissors must have landed somewhere else. I turned to my left to see if that evil cat had returned to gloat, and this is what I saw, not two feet from my head:

I guess my cell phone came in handy after all, because I was able to snatch this picture of my very own Final Destination style near death experience. The gutters were far from clean, but let me tell you: gutter cleaning day was o.v.e.r.

Having survived that ordeal, I can declare officially that I will never again attempt to clean a gutter. It's just one more homeowner task of which I am simply incapable. And it confirms what I already knew: it's time to sell this death trap and move on.

So... anybody looking to buy a nice and affordable three bedroom house in South Minneapolis? Jukebox not included.

::: posted by dan at 3:32 PM :: [ link ] :: (6) comments

Saturday, October 31, 2009 :::

Happy Halloween!

It's not that I haven't been posting. It's that my hosting company wasn't letting me publish to my website. I hadn't had anything interesting to say lately, so it didn't bother me all that much, but I got it all sorted out today, and just in time to say Happy Halloween!

Unfortunately I'm old and tired and boring and I don't do that dress up stuff anymore. I did carve a pumpkin, though:

It was supposed to be a Goonies skull, although now that I look at it, it kinda looks like a cross between the skull in the Goonies logo, the skull on Chester Copperpot's key necklace, and the skull shaped cave that the Goonies escape into when being chased by the Fratelli's.

I think Chester Copperpot would be a good Halloween costume. I'm going to think of a way to pull that off one of these years.

::: posted by dan at 1:32 PM :: [ link ] :: (1) comments

Friday, October 30, 2009 :::

Animated Friday (Pets: A Two Parter Edition)!

Last week was all about cute pets. But sometimes cute isn't as entertaining as mean is. So here are some mean pets.

Kangaroos

Rams

Monkeys

Mean pets are mean. Why do they gotta be so mean?

::: posted by dan at 8:30 AM :: [ link ] :: (0) comments

Tuesday, October 27, 2009 :::

All Swine Flu-ed Out

Swing Flu is so last week. Stop giving me the death tolls, Local News. It didn't work with Bird Flu, and it ain't gonna work with Swine Flu neither. There are much more interesting ways that people are dying out there. Give me something brand new and even more horrible to be scared about already!

But for real, I have nothing interesting to post about and I thought that pic of poor little Piglet was sooper cute.

::: posted by dan at 8:55 PM :: [ link ] :: (1) comments

Friday, October 23, 2009 :::

Animated Friday (Pets: A Two Parter Edition)!

I have a friend who is getting ready to buy a new puppy. Puppies are cute. I like puppies. I like cute pets. Here are some cute pets:

Kitties

Puppies

Don't Know What the Eff This Is But It's Cute
(Apparently is something called a Loris? I dunno.)

To balance out the cute, next week's animated Friday will be all about not cute pets.

::: posted by dan at 12:26 PM :: [ link ] :: (0) comments

Wednesday, October 21, 2009 :::

C.S.I. B.S.!

I love shows like any of the bajillion incarnations of Law & Order or CSI because they require little attention or thought and if you miss ten in a row it won't make a lick of difference. But as anyone who has watched an episode of either of these shows with me can tell you, I can't stand how they misrepresent technology and computers. Cuz I'm a computer nerd. And computer nerds are fickle.

I especially hate it when they are doing things like searching databases for a fingerprint match and they show a computer screen flickering through a million different fingerprints looking for a visual match and scanning through all the possibilities. Why would the creator of that program even make a visual representation of the search? What possible benefit could there be to staring at a flickering screen as a hundred fingerprints flash by in the blink of an eye? You know how much work it would be to develop an interface like that? Why would they even bother? I'm positive that the majority of that kind of DNA/print-matching stuff happens behind the scenes, but I suppose that wouldn't make for dynamic television now, would it? But still, I make a point to annoy whoever is watching with me while I bitch about it.

The absolute worst is when they scan and zoom in on some small area of some low-res closed-circuit security tape and it's all crisp and clean and solves the case. There ain't a video enhancement program in the world that can pull that off. That's just not how digital video works. It drives me bonkers. So when somebody emailed me this the other day, I found solace in the fact that I wasn't the only one who could see through the lies:

I just wish I had thought of mocking it first, cuz I got better photoshopping skillz.

::: posted by dan at 5:40 PM :: [ link ] :: (6) comments

Thursday, October 15, 2009 :::

Autographed!

Stacy and I went to see Michael Showalter and Michael Ian Black at the the Pantages Theater tonight. It was a super funny show, and I was able to laugh whole-heartedly during the entire event, even through the thick stench emanating from the smelly-haired slacksters sitting in front of us. (FYI: Slackster™ is my newly-coined term for a slacker mixed with a hipster).

After watching the two Michaels for years in Wet Hot American Summer, Stella, and The State, it was awfully strange to see them live in person. It was like witnessing wax figures come to life. Not that they looked waxy or anything, I just don't think I had even considered them to be real people before. It was mesmerizing.

But then afterwards came the horribly awkward ordeal of getting their autographs. First, I was wearing a brown leather coat, which for some reason felt entirely inappropriate, although I couldn't for the life of me tell you why. Second, there's something terribly uncomfortable about the subservient act of standing in line to watch someone write their name for you. It exacerbates my self-consciousness to the point of dumbstruck insanity because it is completely impossible to come off as "cool" in that situation. And who doesn't want to look cool in front of Michael Showalter and Michael Ian Black?

The way I could see it, there were really only four ways Stacy and I could have played it:

1) Act normal for the role. Meaning: act excited and fawning and say things like "Great show!" and "Oh man I totally love you guys!" Might as well. We had been snapping photographs and waiting patiently in line so I think there was a clear understanding amongst all parties involved that we liked them more than they liked us. This was no time to have pride. The only problem is that this method isn't very memorable. We'd be just one in a million adoring fans, easily forgotten.

2) Act blasé. Meaning: don't let the celebrities think they are better than us just because we were willing to wait in line to watch them sign their name on a piece of paper. We could simply pretend like we could take them or leave them. We could be too cool for school. The only problem is that this method isn't very believable. We basically waited in line just to get a close-up glimpse at them ferchrissakes. The jig was up. Plus, it's kind of a douche move.

3) Act funny. Meaning: try to be memorable by saying or doing something clever... something they had never seen or heard before... something they would laugh and talk about for years to come. But this method doesn't work either, because they are professional comedians. They are funnier than other people by default and they've heard everything. It would be like bringing a guitar to a Cream autograph session to play a lick for Clapton. It's a game you just can't win.

4) Act insane. Meaning: the only way to really make an unforgettable impression would be to do something genuinely creepy or truly frightening. Like hurdle the table and straddle in their laps. Or start scream-crying like a baby. Or try to lick their signing-hands. Or ask them if they have a used tissue we could keep. Or throw up. But this method is dangerous, because there are always bodyguards in close proximity and because maybe being that memorable isn't a good thing.

Unfortunately, I was starstruck and dumbfounded and so I kind of combined all these possibilities into one giant mess of forgettableness. In my nervousness, I lost control of my facial expression and I think it landed somewhere between a half-awkward-smile and a half-blank-stare kind of look. Then I think I remarked to Michael Showalter that he had signed my T-Shirt in a different place than he had signed Stacy's - a completely useless remark that I was surprised to hear leave my mouth. He replied something about "changing it up a bit" and then passed the T-shirt off to the next Michael without ever making eye contact, which was probably a good thing considering my slack-jawed mug.

It was at that point that I suddenly remembered a past incident at a Star Trek convention. A friend and I had waited in an autograph line for an hour. At the end of this line sat Tuvok from Star Trek Voyager, and Odo (that Rene Auberjonois guy who acted on Benson) from Deep Space Nine. But for some reason we didn't want Odo's autograph, we just wanted Tuvok's. So after we got Tuvok's autograph we just pushed through all the other people waiting in line and walked right past Odo. He even looked up and watched us walk away, avoiding him. It was really awkward and just a tad cruel.

So back to the present, this memory apparently made me absent-mindedly mumble to Michael Ian Black, "Would it be mean if I just skipped over you?" and he played along while signing my T-shirt, "No, everyone has their favorite. Michael is my wife's favorite, too." Again, the lack of eye-contact probably meant that I had not made any sort of impression, and as I walked away, I noticed that his signature on my T-shirt looked more like it read "Jo-Beth" than "Michael Ian" and I wondered if that was his way of exacting revenge for my stupid comment.

But all my regrets have since been replaced with the fact that I get to wear my cool autographed T-shirt all over town, since I doubt I'll ever have to be embarrassed in front of either of the two Michaels again.

But I do extend my apologies to Rene Auberjonois. That was just mean.

::: posted by dan at 11:41 PM :: [ link ] :: (6) comments

Saturday, October 10, 2009 :::

Stoked & Juked

I know it's been a while since I gushed about The Decemberists, but Stacy and I went to their concert last night and it pretty much ruled all up in our faces and stuff.

Lead singer Colin Meloy even performed a brand new song which I thought was awfully nice, although I'm pretty sure that Stacy and I are the only Decemberists fans that read my blog, so none of you will really care all that much to know that I risked being tossed out of the concert to record it for you:

In unrelated musical news, I was watching the craptastically awesome movie Femme Fatale on HBO the other day when I noticed Rebecca Romijn ~~Stamos~~ was gyrating all over my 1972 Seeburg Jukebox!

I gasped and shouted with excitement when I saw it on the TV. Suddenly I realized why gearheads love cars so much and why people buy Macs when they cost twice as much as PCs for half the hardware: it's because it's entirely possible to irrationally fetishize a mechanical device. (No, not that kind of mechanical device, you perverts). I heart my jukebox, so now I finally know exactly how those gearheads, Mac snobs, and Rebecca Romijns feel.

::: posted by dan at 5:45 PM :: [ link ] :: (8) comments

Thursday, October 08, 2009 :::

Back to Normal

So enough of all this fancy art, religious relic, and exotic travel stuff. Now that I'm back home it's time to bring planetdan back down to where it belongs: the gutter. How about we start with an unintentionally vulgar logo?

In case you can't see it, or in case you like vivid details, you can click here to reveal an interactive illustrated explanation. WARNING: the content at that link is slightly X-rated, but even planetdan has to "work blue" sometimes.

::: posted by dan at 7:20 AM :: [ link ] :: (3) comments

Tuesday, October 06, 2009 :::

My favorite souvenir.

Right along the Grand Canal in Venice is Peggy Guggenheim's house, which since her death in 1979 has been turned into a museum. Peggy was an eccentric heiress who collected modern art and hung out with hip artists and wild celebrities. I imagine her house to be like Studio 54, only decades earlier and with less cocaine.

On the trip we visited to the museum and I thought it was slightly disappointing, but she did have a couple of nice Magrittes and this stunning sculpture by Marino Marini in her backyard, facing the canal for the whole world to see as they float by:

Originally, the pointy metal phallus was designed to be detachable, so that one could remove it before parties if one didn't want to offend one's more conservative guests. Of course, someone eventually stole the removable "piece" and so they had to replace it with a more permanent one. But I like to imagine that the bronze ding dong disappeared during one of Peggy's later debaucherous Hollywood parties, and that perhaps Dennis Hopper or Christopher Walken or even Jack Nicholson has the thing resting on his bookshelf as we speak.

So even though you can no longer take any of it home with you, the sculpture's history is still worth remembering. Luckily, it's also available in T-shirt format, with all formally detachable parts still in tact:

I think this represents planetdan very well. Thoughtful and expressive, yet just a teeny-weeny bit subversive.

*I can't stopping looking at my weird chin in that picture. I shouldn't have cropped it so weird. It looks like an extra elbow or something.

::: posted by dan at 9:51 PM :: [ link ] :: (2) comments

Sunday, October 04, 2009 :::

Italy 2009

I'm finally back from Italy.

I took a TON of pictures. Of course, I'm usually the only one with a camera on my trips, so if I want pictures of me then I gotta take them myself.

Me in the Sistine Chapel:

Me by the School of Athens
(aka "That painting from the cover of that Guns 'n' Roses album"):

Me taking advantage of a rare empty art niche:

Also, have you ever wondered what the FLOOR of the Sistine Chapel looks like?

Interesting, no? Anyway, you can see all the photos here, but I warn you that there are hundreds, and rarely are they interesting to anyone but myself.

::: posted by dan at 5:59 PM :: [ link ] :: (2) comments

Saturday, October 03, 2009 :::

Who do these Venetians think they are?

I'll take pictures of anything I damn-well please, thank you very much!

Seriously? Who do they think they are?

::: posted by dan at 1:50 PM :: [ link ] :: (0) comments

Friday, October 02, 2009 :::

Relics

We've been touring a LOT of churches and cathedrals across the Italian countryside. I can really only see so many altars, baptisteries, frescoes, and marble bishops before they all sorta blend together into one ginormous monster church in my mind. Of course, I've taken pictures of all of them to help keep my memory straight.

But no matter which church or cathedral we enter, there is always one thing they will never allow me to photograph: the gruesome relics. And of course, they are always the items that pique my interest the most. So I had to scrounge the Internet to find images of some of the creepy things I've seen over the past week. Here are a few of my favorites:

The Hair of St. Clair:
Yeah, it looks sorta just like a fright wig in a box, but still. Gross.

The Tongue and Jaw of St. Anthony:
They also had his vocal chords, which basically just looked like a black wad of dried-up glop, but the lumpy black tongue was by far my favorite. Grosser.

The Finger of St. Catherine:
This one shocked me the most, probably due to how it was mounted into what looked to me like a gilded lipstick container. Plus, it's just so weird to have a lone bony mummified finger pointing to the sky like that. Grossest.

Italy is awesome!

::: posted by dan at 1:14 AM :: [ link ] :: (2) comments

Monday, September 28, 2009 :::

Ah, the stunnings sights of Tuscany!

Some people think that bicycling across a foreign land and over rough terrain can be considered a "vacation". I must be one of the most out of shape people on the planet, because I've been utterly exhausted touring museums and churches from the cushions of a luxury coach, but these bikers take their stuff seriously, and all from the uncomfortable, chafing torture of a bike seat. Take this man, for instance, who I saw outside the window of my cozy tour bus, and who has literally worn through the back side of his bike shorts:

Ain't nothing like letting your bare butt appreciate the beautiful scenery of Tuscany, and mooning a good majority of the population in the process.

But of course there are better things to see across Italy than some random cyclist's butt crack, such as:

I also paid some cute old lady a euro to get a peek at her backyard, and I'll have many picture of that to come. And no, it's not as dirty as I made it sound.

::: posted by dan at 9:22 AM :: [ link ] :: (4) comments

Wednesday, September 23, 2009 :::

Low Clearance, Y'all

Venice is pretty awesome. I was half expecting a tourist trap with stinky canals, but it's nothing like that at all. It has tourists, yes, and tourist traps to be sure, but there are also great stuff and amazing sceneries around every corner. And riding boats along the canals is insane. Those drivers have no fear whatsoever, and apparently have no concern for high tide and low clearance at great speeds:

Getting here was not as fun, though. They cancelled my flight without ever telling me, tried to re-schedule it for an entire day later, and I ended up leaving half a day earlier.

I sat next to a 22-year old girl from Tennessee who had never been on a plane before. Her name was Sumer (with just one 'm'), and she was supposed to meet her husband who had been stationed in Venice with the Army. She constantly referred to me in the plural as "y'all" even though there is only one of me. "Is the plane supposed to make that noise, y'all?" She was a text-book nervous first-time flyer.

She also had a dog on her lap in a carrier bag. It whined and scratched to get out of the bag which was unfortunately/fortunately against the rules. I asked what the unseen dog was named, and I thought she replied "Aragorn," so I said "Oh, like Lord of the Rings?" and she said "No, like the dragon rider, y'all." Apparently she meant "Eragon."

This was all fine, until the in-flight movie began. As soon as I saw the name Matthew McConaughey appear in the credits, I thought "I'm out," and started to pack up my headphones, but she literally screamed "Oh my god I'm sooooo getting out my headphones, y'all. You totally have to watch this."

It was called The Ghosts of Girlfriends Past and it was, by far, one of the worst movies I've ever seen. Sumer didn't agree. Not only had she already seen it, but she loved it, and she loved it so much that she wanted me to love it too. So during the whole movie she would look over at me to see if I was laughing, loving, crying, barfing - whatever the hell you are supposed to do during a Matthew McConaughey movie. I had to fake it. It was hard to fake it for two hours. On a plane. Next to a whining dog. And a girl name Summer with a thick southern drawl, y'all.

When the movie was finally over, she looked at me expectingly, wanting me to gush. I smiled and nodded with exaggerated enthusiasm, faked a yawn and said, "Well, I better try to get some sleep."

"Will I be able to see the Colosseum from the plane, y'all?" she replied. I knew it was going to be a long night. And I was so afraid that Eragon was going to poop on my carry on that I never actually fell asleep.

But who cares. I'm in Italy now and nothing else matters. I'll have some better pictures for you soon.

::: posted by dan at 4:28 PM :: [ link ] :: (6) comments

Saturday, September 19, 2009 :::

Venezia

I'm celebrating my blog's birthiversary in Venice.

It's pretty, just like in the movies.

I'm pretty, just like in the movies.

We battled the crowd to see something that they kept telling me was called "The Bridge of Size" and when we finally reached it, I took a big long look and thought, "Well, that ain't so large. What's the big deal?"

The Tiny Bridge in Question

And so I asked "Why do they call it 'The Bridge of Size'?" and I was told it was because it was from that bridge that the captives and slaves got to see their last view of Venice before they were lead into the dungeons of the palace, and it was such a beautiful view." And I said "I still don't get why they call it that, so what if the view was beautiful, what has that got to do with the name?" and I was told, with great exasperation, "Because it was such a beautiful and sad sight that it would make them sigh!" And that's when it dawned on me, "Oh! The Bridge of Sighs." I'm pretty thick sometimes.

Of course, there are many views in Venice that will make you sigh, but the best view so far has been from the Rialto Bridge, which is truly a Bridge of Size:

But you have to see the big version.

::: posted by dan at 11:31 AM :: [ link ] :: (7) comments

Friday, September 18, 2009 :::

Animated Friday (Burst Your Bubble Edition)!

They can't all be about people falling down. Sometime you gotta sneak some learnin' into your edutainment.

Slo-Mo Demo: BB through a Bubble

Slo-Mo Demo: Bullet Into a Wall

Slo-Mo Demo: Lightning Crashes

Who needs face plants and car accidents? Learnin' is fun!

::: posted by dan at 12:18 PM :: [ link ] :: (1) comments

Thursday, September 17, 2009 :::

Great Inventions

I was working at home with the TV on mute the other day when I glanced up from my laptop and saw this:

I immediately rewound the Tivo and turned up the volume. Apparently there is a local news program called Twin Cities Live that has all the production values of... well... a local news program, and they were featuring some would-be inventors who were pitching their ideas to some well-known entrepreneur. The cohosts began by saying they were excited to see the inventions, as they had not been informed of what would be presented. Raw anticipation was in the air. And then right out of the gate, a woman holds up that recognizably-shaped device and starts talking about hoo-haws.

Yeah, it's for a hoo-haw. Specifically, it's an "Intra-Vaginal Cooling Device." It's for hot hoo-haws. The cohosts seemed uncomfortable.

Apparently you stick it in the freezer. And then if your hoo-haw ever gets too hot, you can stick it somewhere else. This was enough to make one host ask "Do you really want that thing in your freezer? Right next to the corn?" which made me wonder what type of disturbing freezer mix-up scenario he was imagining. I don't even want to get into the possible details of that. Let's just say it was a wholly inappropriate comment that did nothing to ease the tension.

I don't know if hot hoo-haws is a big problem, and I'm not judging the concept or the reaction of the host (after all, it's not their fault - someone probably should have warned them that they would be face to face with a vagina popsicle that day), I'm just saying: watching daytime TV is like a social experiment gone horribly wrong, which is kinda awesome.

::: posted by dan at 1:31 PM :: [ link ] :: (3) comments

THIS IS IT.

Planetdan is 7 years old today, and that just happens to coincide with my 1,500th post. It's time to celebrate.

Huh.

So that was anticlimactic.

::: posted by dan at 5:56 AM :: [ link ] :: (14) comments

Tuesday, September 15, 2009 :::

PURGE

Any good mental health professional will tell you that the healthy thing to do on birthdays and anniversaries is to stop and reflect, to take stock in yourself, and to get rid of any baggage so that you can make a clean start. So on this day, only one day before my blog's birthday and my 1,500th post, I'm cleaning out the files, scrubbing out the hard drive, and posting a ton of random crap that's been mucking up my system for far too long. It's a lot of stuff that I never had time to post, some more stuff that I didn't have the ambition to comment on, and some even more stuff that I just didn't feel made the cut.

It's PURGING time, and it feels so good.

TITLE: Parenting 101 - Make Toys Out of Everyday Objects!
From the ceaselessly shiver-inducing People of Walmart website.

TITLE: The Birth of Emoticons
Oh no, this one is copyrighted. Hope I don't get busted. Although we all know that Abraham Lincoln really invented the emoticon.

TITLE: Thread Head
I love installations like these. I want to build one of my own face for my office.

TITLE: Maybe Next Month, Champ
Also available in T-Shirt format.

TITLE: No Time For Love, Dr. Jones
If I were famous like Harrison Ford, I would constantly leak absurd images to the interwebs, each one more WTF than the next.

TITLE: Mother Was Right
I imagine this scenario every single time I ride an escalator, but I envision a lot more blood and severed limbs. And Crocs.

TITLE: Precision Poop Bomb
Never take a well-trained dog out of their comfort zone.

TITLE: Guess Who
Not sure why, but this might be my favoritest celebrity school picture ever.

TITLE: The Power of Penguins
The internets is edumacational. Too see it is to believe it!

TITLE: Um
No comment.

TITLE: She Said Yes, But I Said No!
Just picturing his face is more than enough to inspire a lifetime of abstinence. Yeesh.

TITLE: Traffic Jam
Some people like to talk about how smart their dogs are, because it can fetch a ball or obey a command or jump a fence, but sometimes it's the innocent stupidity of dogs that really makes them so awesome. I mean that in a good way.

TITLE: Twinsies
One of their parents has clearly got ALL of the dominant genes.

TITLE: Warning Sign
Titled as found.

It's nice to finally get all of that out of my system.

Posts Remaining
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1

Days Remaining Until
7th Blogiversary

1

::: posted by dan at 12:04 PM :: [ link ] :: (6) comments

Monday, September 14, 2009 :::

Drinking Bacardi Like It's My Blog's Birthday

This is it. My blog's birthday week. Yo, shorty, it's your birthday.

Ain't nothing like an outdated musical reference to kick off a birthday week. Although I'm afraid I might be wearing the wrong color shirt in that animated GIF. Is 50 a blood or a crip? Did I just start a turf war?

Posts Remaining
Until 1,500

2

Days Remaining Until
7th Blogiversary

2

::: posted by dan at 12:26 AM :: [ link ] :: (2) comments

Sunday, September 13, 2009 :::

The Blubber Run

This weekend was the James Page Blubber Run, which for those of you who don't know is a 5k race that winds through downtown Minneapolis and encourages runners to stop and chug a beer at the halfway point. The event organizers also encourage participants to wear costumes, but in my opinion, running five kilometers is torture enough even without the chafing heat of a rubber mask or the added weight of foam padding. So I just wore matching socks and wristbands to show my pep.

Some people really get into it, though. Some of my favorites:

An easter peep, a gurney replete with doctors and a chubby man nurse, my happy coworker, and a bag of Jelly Belly Jelly Beans.

Hugh and the Girls Next Door.

Keeping Up With The Kardashians. Which is ironic because I couldn't keep up with them. They beat me to the finish.

I think it's strange the E! channel had such a strong showing this year. I also tried desperately to get a picture of the man in the Rainbow Bright costume, but he proved to be elusive. You can see all of my Blubber Run pics here.

As for the race itself, it was hard and it was hot and it sucked. I'm all for getting dressed up and going out for a beer, but why do people always gotta throw a 5k into the middle of everything? I can barely even walk today. Which I suppose is not unusual after a day of drinking, but still.

Posts Remaining
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3

Days Remaining Until
7th Blogiversary

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::: posted by dan at 10:40 PM :: [ link ] :: (4) comments

Friday, September 11, 2009 :::

Animated Friday (Owned by Objects Edition)!

Just a few things I didn't realize could be so dangerous.

Hoses

Mechanical Bulls

Soda

Your paranoia is warranted. Everything is out to get you.

Posts Remaining
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4

Days Remaining Until
7th Blogiversary

5

::: posted by dan at 12:19 PM :: [ link ] :: (2) comments

Thursday, September 10, 2009 :::

Mr. Thick

I visited my neighborhood Wallgreen's Pharmacy yesterday to buy a Neti Pot and to get a prescription filled. I waited in line for 15 minutes while the man in front of me argued with the pharmacist about whether or not he should use the Metamucil that was recommended to him because his "stool was already too hard." He must have used that phrase twenty times during the short wait, to the point where I started to assume that the man might have a related fetish, which made it difficult to stop my brain from picturing things it should never have to picture. So I was already a tad woozy when I left the store and began to pull out of my parking spot.

That's when I bumped into another parked car that was positioned all catawampus across the aisle. It was a very light tap, barely perceptible, not even enough to cause a minor scratch. So I contemplated just pretending like it didn't happen and driving off, but in my rear view mirror I could see the driver stepping out of his car to check the damage. He was not smiling. And he was one of the biggest/scariest-looking gangsters I've ever seen. I gulped down my vomit, waited a beat, and slowly stepped out of the car. That's when I noticed he had a personalized license plate. It said "MR THICK."

"Sorry about that," I offered, stuttering slightly, after making sure that there was indeed no damage to be found.

"Oh man this isn't even my car! This is my babymama's car, and she's inside the store," he replied. No joke - he actually used the word "babymama." I stood momentarily confused, thinking "Your babymama calls herself Mr. Thick?" when he cryptically continued, "She really likes her car, man. You better get the hell out of here before she sees you..."

So with a short nod of acknowledgement and a quick step, that's exactly what I did. And although part of me wanted to stick around to see what a woman who calls herself "Mr. Thick" might look like, the other part of me knew that was not a bright idea.

And for the record, I did not find the whole Neti Pot experience to be very pleasant. Not that I ever thought I would actually enjoy giving my face an enema. But at this point I'll try anything.

Posts Remaining
Until 1,500

5

Days Remaining Until
7th Blogiversary

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::: posted by dan at 7:42 AM :: [ link ] :: (8) comments