Send Me On My Way

I've decided to save my interview with the friendly cats at Obama headquarters for tomorrow in favor of a more timely post. For those of you who are sick of waiting for the first in my much alluded to Campaign '08 series, just listen to the song "Apathetic Way to Be" by Relient K and rest assured that it will be up by 10am tomorrow.

For those of you who don't know already I've been working at a small cafe in downtown CSprings this summer and after previous summers spent working at a car auction (now closed due to severe cocaine-related bankruptcy), a moving company, and campus security, I can say that washing dishes, waiting tables and deep-frying the crap out of whatever crosses my path at The Corner Cafe has been, by far, my favorite summer job. And today was my last day.

After arriving in CSprings this summer I spent a half a week just waiting to move into my apartment during which I slept on the ground in a state park. But, after I finally moved in it only took one day of job searching before I got a call from Bob and Virginia at The Corner Cafe and before I knew it I had been interviewed and fitted for a shirt. I was working the next Monday, two days after moving in.

I have an almost miraculous tendency for finding good people wherever I go (maybe there are more of them than I thought) and Bob and Virginia are thus far my favorite Coloradans (Colorodians, Colodites?). They gave me a great job that allowed me to spend a lot of time reading and getting to know the city, they let me eat breakfast and lunch every day on the house (they even sometimes fed me on Saturdays), but most of all they asked daily how I was doing, had I talked to my family, what was my apartment like, etc. They have been no less than surrogate parents this summer and today they really went above and beyond and got me a going away present:

A nice card, a coffee maker, filters and coffee.

I mentioned to Virginia about a week after I started work that I hadn't had coffee a couple weeks. What followed what a mom-like one-sided argument about why me being happy and having coffee every once in awhile was worth the money I would be spending on it. I, however, being the cheap, loan-encumbered teacher-to-be that I am never did get around to buying a coffee maker.

Their gift was a total surprise and it really showed me how even two months spent with someone can really have an impact on them. For better or for worse. While I will miss Bob, Virginia, Steve and Marquina, I won't have too much time to bemoan the loss of my apron: tomorrow is my first day of training at Cheyenne Mountain Charter Academy. If you didn't know already I'm going to be teaching 8th grade English and an introductory Latin class to a combination of 7th and 8th graders. So, if you've got any sweet classroom ideas, leave 'em in a comment.

And now, your moment of Zen:




























Since I'll be officially starting at Cheyenne tomorrow it's going to get harder and harder to keep daily posts coming. So, if you're actually reading this stuff, give a shout out in the comments and let me know that I'm not just throwing around the bits and bytes for my own narcissistic enjoyment. Also, if you're sick of me talking about myself feel free to give me something to talk about. Just leave a comment that says "Zach, what do you think about Nutrigrain bars or human/unicorn relationships?" and I'll be sure to give you my 2 cents.

Too Much Food

Last Friday Jose, Brad, Leroy and I decided to go out for dinner. Italian was on the menu and we were hungry. Proceeding foot-wise towards downtown we stopped at a little place called Panino's. We had pizza on the brain, but a good looking menu and CSprings Independent choice award changed our minds. One by one we selected from a list of their signature "Panino Sandwich". Pizza, Hawaiian, BBQ, Green Chili - we each made our pick and we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Not only was the service slow, the lighting subpar and the atmosphere downright vampiric, but also it turns out a "Panino Sandwich" is just a piece of pizza folded onto another piece of pizza. The sides: a bowl of soup that we almost got charged $2 extra for, a 2 ounce container of coleslaw and three potato chips left nothing undesired. To add insult to injury we paid roughly $12 each for these paltry pint-sized pizza-droppings. We vowed revenge, and last night we got it.

The Scene: Panino's

The Game: All you can eat pizza for $5.95.

The Players:

Zach "the devastator" Good: As the leader of this crusade I set an example for my soldiers by fasting all day, forcing each man to set a goal and achieve it, and generally demonstrating an unbridled hatred for the Colorado Springs restaurant scene and what it had done to us.

Brad "the pit" Osborne: Second in command of the operation. He showed up (as did I) over 45 minutes before "the clean up crew" arrived. Putting away two medium pizzas by himself and consuming only half a glass of water during battle, Brad was a force to be reckoned with.


Jose "the sleeping giant" Orozco: Jose demonstrated his commitment to the team by grabbing Leroy and driving down from Denver right after getting out of work. Despite his mild-mannered appearance we learned during the course of the onslaught that Jose was a veteran "aggressive eater" and, though his specialty is the hot dog circuit, his signature "jalapeno sandwich" move proved that he has was it takes to hold his own in the world of competitive pizza-wrecking.


Leroy aka "Eric" Louis "Crazy Eyes" Mary-Beth Phipps: Check out this crazy mug. Weighing in at roughly 25.7 newtons/square inch this guy can really pack away the 'za. Leroy was quick on his feet, never let a waiter go by, and, like his "bash-brother" Jose, absolutely trumped his own pizza-pounding-predictions.

The Score: In toto we consumed 6 medium pizzas plus change. We ordered new rounds of pizza every time the waiter got within 20 feet of us. Below is everyone's "predicted" and "actual" count in number of slices. We got 'em... We got 'em good.



P to the S: Last night, in an effort to alleviate our gastric discomfort, we sought out the soda springs of Manitou and on the way happened to see that Obama's CSprings campaign headquarters was still open. I stopped in, chatted it up a bit, and picked up some literature. I'm headed back there tonight to talk turkey. Hopefully (unless time is just too short) you'll hear more about that tomorrow.

Invincible

This post was originally supposed to be an in memoriam for my bike. After receiving, by charitable donation, a bike rack (mine was misplaced sometime during the two uninterrupted years it spent in Hillsdale), hauling it 1500 miles across eight states (I count Michigan and Ohio twice because Brad and I accidentally re-entered Michigan about an hour into our cross country road trip), and having it put two sizable dents and a monster scratch in the back of my car when I backed into a tree with it still attached, my bike, despite being immobile (due to a bent wheel) and locked to a fence, was stolen last Thursday.But that's not what this post is about.

It's about something much more important. Something I think is better worth remembering. What I'd really like to commemorate today is something that came to my mind yesterday after talking to one Mr. Phipps and has consumed the better part of my thought since. Not many people that I've come to know in the past several years will recall that glorious institution and few who do remember can think about it without a tear in their eye. While the name "Samurai Warriors of Resplendent Justice" probably would have been a more fitting, it was simply called FBL - The Fraternal Brotherhood of LAN (Don't worry the fraternal/brotherhood redundancy is intentional. It's just that manly).

My idea of FBL was always a bit romantic. While it wasn't exactly the band of rugged crusaders I liked to think it was, I don't hesitate to say that it was one of the best things to ever happen to those of us who were involved. And, though my shotgun wasn't as feared as Czar's sniper-rifle or Oz's rocketlauncher, I enjoyed playing my part. I hope the slideshow below brings back some memories and impels you all to aspire again to such heights of manliness and brotherhood.


There are over 100 pictures in that slide show, so be patient.

Finally, here's my favorite picture by far: a group of some of the core members of The Brotherhood in their class-As.
FBL'ers: leave a comment with your favorite memory or an update if we haven't heard from you in awhile. Also, feel free to throw up some pictures on the new Facebook group.

Long Distance Call

AIM missing the mark? Yahoo! lost its pep? Been crapped on by Pidgin?
(I've got about seven more of those, each higher up on the pun scale than the last)
Well, whether you are dissatisfied with your IM client or not, Digsby can do a lot to clean up your crowded desktop and lighten the load placed on your internet browser. After an easy five minute installation Digsby rounds up your GMail, Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, AIM, Yahoo!, MSN, Jabber and ICQ data and incorporates it all into one client that allows you to chat with fellow GMailers, Facebookers, and anyone on your IM buddy list all without opening a web browser. It also notifies you when you receive e-mail, get a new wall post or get tagged in a photo. With more reach than Meebo or Pidgin, Digsby can be as comprehensive or as unobtrusive as you'd like. Each chat client connects separately and every type of notification can be blocked. Also, unless you change the default settings, it has no irritating blurps, beeps, door slams, "uh-ohs" or typewriter noises.

Here's an unusually fitting example of one of the pop-up windows telling me that Brad is sending me a message via GMail Chat. These windows linger for just a couple seconds to tell you what's new and, if they are indicating a newly received message on chat, they give you the option to reply in the pop-up itself.

The finished product looks something like this.
If you are obsessed with density of information, Digsby is where it's at. For me, and for my Frankenstein of a computer, having every chat, e-mail and social client running at once is a bit much, but Digsby always gives you the option to see more or less depending on your preferences and legal restraining orders.

Digsby is free for now, but only available for Windows.

This post brought to you by Brad's incessant pestering.

That Green Gentleman [Things have Changed]

Yesterday was our first foray into the mall-scene of CSprings, and, though most of the success of the day had little to do with the bounty of the mall itself, it was a decidedly successful trip. We began with only one mission objective (finding Leroy a new shirt for an upcoming wedding) but Chapel Hills had more in store (a pun!) for us. Our first, and to my mind our greatest, find was this:

I watched this video on an in-store TV, waiting for the artist/song information at the end while Brad tried to decide which beaded bracelet made him look most like a surfer. I couldn't have been more surprised when I found out that it was Panic at the Disco. Turns out even a tool store like Aberepublic or Bananazombie or wherever we were, and even a teen-pop band like Panic at the Disco, can really brighten my day. I think that Steve and Barry should enlist the help of the Old Navy and having traversed the Gap under the watch of Pacific Sun declare war on the Banana Republic (two words? I'm not even willing to google that). Notice that in the previous sentence I mentioned those stores (probably all owned by the same company) in order of increasing quality of their sweat sho... I mean textiles. Anyway, that song will make your day.

We also took the time to watch a round of American Idol tryouts that were going on at the mall all afternoon:

Plus we uncovered yet another example of corporate underhandedness. In a store which shall remain nameless, I found the very shirt I was wearing. The funny part is the shirt I was wearing was purchased about a year ago from Express. The shirt we found is made by "The Beverly Hills Polo Club" and is being sold for what I conjecture to be about 1/4th of the price of the Express shirt.

Once again the Old West isn't afraid to add insult to injury. Even when it means making me doubt the integrity of the very shirt on my back.

More on the mall later.

Also later this week: another in memoriam, a post about food, and something about politics.

Who Needs Sleep?

It's Saturday again and that, combined with the fact that it's over 100 degrees outside here in sunny Colorado Springs, has forced us to stay cool indoors. So, while supping on some tasty enchiladas (courtesy of Jose) we decided that it was time to indulge Brad's summer-long pestering and watch:

Movie Review #2
THE MACHINIST - Brad's pick

To begin with I love the fact that one of the first results for a Google Images search for The Machinist was this sweet poster - auf Deutsch. The tagline, if you can't read it, is "Wie kannst Du aus einem Alptraum aufwachen, wenn Du gar nicht schlafst?" which basically means "How can you wake up from a nightmare, when you aren't even asleep?"

One great thing about The Machinist, I realize as I write this, is the fact that there is very little I can say about the plot and moral tensions of the movie without spoiling the ending. It wasn't a psychological thriller, it wasn't a murder mystery, it was simply a unique and rich human experience. To say that it "kept me guessing" would be to give myself too much credit. I never had a clue as to where this movie would end up, though perhaps I would have had I been more versed in Dostoevsky or Nine Inch Nails.

Christian Bale's character is Trevor Reznik, an insomniac who hasn't slept in a year and ends up in the middle of what he perceives to be a vengeful conspiracy against his own sanity. The movie begins in media res and returns to it's opening just before the final scenes. The Machinist deals with sin and humanity on par with The Lives of Others and pound for pound Christian Bale plays one of the most convincing roles I've ever seen, though that's not saying much since he only weighed 120lbs. The 60 lbs he lost for the role he gained back, plus an additional 40 to play the role of Batman a year later.

The Machinist is definitely a movie meant to grow by evangelism: after seeing it once, you're ready to grab an infidel friend and watch it again. Despite the first half hour of the movie during which there was little to keep the viewer going (that is, besides the ghastly, gaunt, ungainly figure of CB), The Machinist was a quality film with a significant message, a B+ overall.

This is for Real

The other day Brad sent me this video, showing how someone could strip apart a 6-volt battery and find inside 32 AA batteries. Sounds too good to be true, right? Well, for the chance that spending $5 could save us $25, Brad and I were willing to find out for ourselves.

We first bought a Rayovac battery and without any of the proper training or tools ripped it open using a cheap knock-off of the Gerber Tool. (which I used to believe was named for a Boy Scout camp I went to every summer). What we found was not 32 AA batteries, but 4 D batteries.

So, we turned a $5 battery into 4 batteries which Walgreens would charge us $7.99 for. That means if you use a lot of those $3 little plastic flashlights that every kid loves for three days after his camping-themed birthday party, you've got all the power you'll ever need.

But, like the mouse who gets the cheese without getting his neck snapped, or the guy who wins $5 on a scratch-off ticket, we decided to press our luck. The next day we downgraded and bought the $3 battery which was actually the same brand used in the video. But, due to unforeseen depression (more to come on that later!!!!) we were too afraid to open it.... until today.

The second 6v yielded what can only be described as the two most ugly, acidic and fire-code-violating paper weights money can buy.


Not to be daunted by blatant failure, we cracked open a 9v that we had on hand (by "on hand" I mean that I ripped it out of the smoke-alarm like two weeks ago and never put it back). Inside were what the internet could only describe as AAAA (quadruple A's). These itty-bitty little guys, so says the net, can be used as triple-A's if, for instance, your escape helicopter or some other critical piece of equipment is powered by AAA's and you only thought to stock your emergency fanny pack with 9-volts.

Overall, we ended up with several types of useless batteries and a big mess.

Just goes to show that, even with the internet, things that seem too good to be true, pretty much always are.

Don't you feel like you just watched Mythbusters?