A Rare Meme That Slightly Amused

Courtesy of citizen jane and David:


1. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?
"Cool! No bedhead! Good enough to go out as is!"

2. How much cash do you have on you?
$16.00

3. What’s a word that rhymes with DOOR?
(Edward) Gore(y)

4. Favorite planet?
Planet Claire (B52's)

5. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone?
It was not a person. It was an 800 number .....

6. What is your favorite ring tone on your phone?
The one I currently use: CTU "24" ringtone

7. What shirt are you wearing?
Old, stained, holey salmon-colored T-shirt I bought at the 99 Cent Store ages ago.

8. Do you label yourself?
Absolutely. Daily. And it changes often throughout the day.

9. Name the brand of the shoes you’re currently wearing?
I do not do brand names. That ... and I currently am wearing no shoes.

10. Bright or Dark Room?
Dark

11. What do you think about the person who took this survey before you?
Complex and revealing

12. What does your watch look like?
It's in the bottom of a sock drawer, unused for months and needs a battery. Basic. With hands, real numbers.

13. What were you doing at midnight last night?
Painfully watching the last of "Juno" while drifting off ...

14. What did your last text message you received on your cell say?
"Where are you?"

15. Where is your nearest 7-11?
1 1/2 miles northwest

16. What’s a word that you say a lot?
"Really?"

17. Who told you he/she loved you last?
My daughter

18. Last furry thing you touched?
Bob The Dog *whew*

19. How many drugs have you done in the last three days?
Zero

20. How many rolls of film do you need developed?
Zero

21. Favorite age you have been so far?
This question does not compute. I've felt, since asking myself this question on occasion over the years, that I'm fine right where I'm at.

22. Your worst enemy?
Sloth

23. What is your current desktop picture?
A luche libre

24. What was the last thing you said to someone?
"Have a good day."

25. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to fly what would it be?
Tough question. But I will be selfish and state the ability to fly.

26. Do you like someone?
Why ... but of course.

27. The last song you listened to?
The Wipeouters. "Twist 'n' Launch".

28. What time of day were you born?
3:35 am

29. What’s your favorite number?
Two

30. Where did you live in 1987?
West Covina, CA

31. Are you jealous of anyone?
Nope

32. Is anyone jealous of you?
No clue

33. Where were you when 9/11 happened?
Park City, Utah at home

34. What do you do when vending machines steal your money?
I have never had a vending machine steal my money. It has refused to return my money to me, but it has never stolen it. One day, in the near future however, I have no doubt I will deposit bills into a machine and it will mock me in a semi-mechanical voice.

35. Do you consider yourself kind?
Absolutely. Among other things ...

36. If you had to get a tattoo, where would it be?
"... had to get ..."? Initial thought: Bottom of my foot.

37. If you could be fluent in any other language, what would it be?
Spanish. Which I speak, but not fluently.

38. Would you move for the person you loved?
Yes. And I have. Several times

39. Are you touchy feely?
Not generally. And that really depends on the circumstance.

40. What’s your life motto?
"You don't learn from your successes, you learn from your mistakes."

41. Name three things that you have on you at all times?
At all times? Only one: My wedding band.

42. What’s your favorite town/city?
Toss up: San Diego, San Francisco

43. What was the last thing you paid for with cash?
A Coke and two hand-made caramels at The Flying J in St. George, Utah.

44. When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper and mailed it?
I cannot recall. But ... within the last two years, I believe.

45. Can you change the oil on a car?
Yes

46. Your first love: what is the last thing you heard about him/her?
That would be Deena Taylor, middle school. I cannot remember.

47. How far back do you know about your ancestry?
A few simple generations.

48. The last time you dressed fancy, what did you wear and why did you dress fancy?
May, 2009. Job interview. Suit, tie.

49. Does anything hurt on your body right now?
No.

50. Have you been burned by love?
At 19. Yes. It was a good thing, in retrospect.

......................... Ruprecht ( STOP )

Causing Problems In Utah

A family trip to Boondocks was in order while we were vacationing in Utah.

Grandma and the kids had been previously ... but Mom and Dad? Never.

Miniature golf (two rounds!), wet and wild bumper boats that squirt like nobody's business (the MIL went nuts on these), batting cages, laser tag (I was "Darth Maul" and - despite the fact I didn't even know if I was hitting anyone - ended up getting high score for the session), go-karts and not-only-reasonable-but-decent-tasting food were the orders of the day.

But, the Arcade was where the real action was. Games galore. Ticket-spewing, token-hungry machines beckoning us at every turn. Proffering their coveted yellow tickets to be exchanged for trinkets and jetsam.

And deep in the bowels of the Arcade was an intriguing piece of technology that whispered siren songs and called to me. It sang a sweet tune I found irresistible.

The MaxFlight
FS 2000 Flight Simulator.

How could I refuse?

Sixteen different programs to choose from. Everything from Coney Island wooden rollercoasters to real-time, controllable fighter craft, watercraft and more. Sixteen adventures ranging in excitement from just over a minute to just under five. More than a dozen thrill-seeking tours, some of which featured multiple, multiple, multiple barrel rolls and other teeth-jarring frolickry, all from the comfort of an enclosed cocoon pod run by state-of-the-art hydraulics.

Again: How could I possibly refuse?

I told Wife of Rupe I was headed that way. "Are you sure you should do that?" she queried.

"Where was the harm?" I thought to myself.

I tried to get the eldest to come with me, but she refused. She's not the thrill seeker (yet) that her father is.

I whisked pages several times over within the three ring binder that sat on the podium detailing the instructions and rides one could program into this contraption. I finally choose a bobsled simulation boasting no less than nine separate inversions.

While in line, I spoke with my daughter. "Cool! Check it out - you can see the program I will be doing up there on the television monitor! Go get mom and tell her to come watch!" She ran off in search of her before the ride commenced.

Finally, it was my turn at bat. The woman manning the ride asked if I had chosen a program. I told her. I barreled through the turnstile and entered into the contraption. Shoulder straps where applied. A crotch strap manhandled me. A seatbelt was the final restraint clicked into place. The top half closed around me, encasing me within a claustrophobic air pocket complete with PVC tubing blowing cool air at my face, a blank, white video screen in my purview.

60 seconds went by wherein I heard the snap of a latch and the engagement of additional exterior restraints that would prevent my new temporary home from inadvertently flying open while I was hanging upside down.

I barely heard a keyboard click to my left - the woman pecking in the program of my choice - and of a sudden my restraints pulled at me as I was lifted into the air. A jarring halt had me waiting in anticipation as my heart thumped faster in my chest.

Another 30 seconds or so passed as I eagerly watched the screen in front of me, waiting for the program to initiate. Instead, I heard a hydraulic squeal and I was unceremoniously tossed 90 degrees onto my left side. I was vertical ... the fun was about to begin ... !!!

Or ........ so I thought.

There I was ..... still vertical after three minutes.

... four minutes ...

... five ...

.......................

No noise. No action. No movement. No video image in front of me. No sound.

From outside, I heard the woman conducting the ride finger her walkie-talkie. "Frankie ... I have a problem over here ..... have you got a minute?"

Uh oh.

"Jenny," I heard. "Can you help me lift this thing?"

I felt movement as two females were obviously trying to lift the contraption off its side with me in it. For whatever reason, they obviously couldn't get the simulator to right itself. I had no idea why.

"Frankie ... we still need help. We're going to have to get a lot more bodies over here to get this guy out ..."

Now ... that didn't sound good.

All said and done, it took them close to eight minutes from the time the simulation "began" to extract me from the contraption. Once righted (and with lots of effort on their part, I was told), I heard the exterior restraints come off and the latch unsnap. Then there was light as the clamshell top opened to reveal several attendants looking at me in wide-eyed wonder.

I shot my arms in the air and yelled at the top of my lungs:

"WHOO-HOOOOOO ... !!!
That was fantastical!
Whatta ride ... !!!"

One of the attendants looked at me and stated, matter of factly:

"I'm sorry, sir. But because of your weight and the fact there is only one of you in the simulator, it won't function properly. You got stuck."

Well ... no shitake, Sherlock.

I'd made enough of a spectacle. I detached my restraints and walked out of the pod gracefully and with what little dignity I still had after my display ... which wasn't much. I had a grin as wide as an elephant as I departed.

Good. Times. Period.

........................ Ruprecht ( STOP )

Prologue:

"One of the attendants came up to me while you were stuck inside and asked me how old you were," Wife of Rupe confessed to me when I was free of the simulator.

"What does that have to do with anything?!?" I asked.

"No clue." she replied. "Then they asked 'Does he weigh more than 175 pounds?' I looked at them and said 'Well ... Yeeeeeeeeeeahhhhhhhh .....'"

Here Comes Comic-Con, Again

It's almost that time of year again.

The annual trek down south to beautiful, mild San Diego and the festival of all things relevant to the world: Comic-Con.

I expect lots of what is displayed below ... and a whole lot more.

I've noted items from last year as well as a spiffy scenario of previous monkey business ..... and I've no doubt more is forthcoming.

T-minus 9 days and counting.

.................... Ruprecht ( STOP )

Suspension

. . . Vacation . . .

Dear Value Added Services Habitué:

There will be sporadic monkey business on this site for the next 10 days or so ... if there will be any monkey business at all.

You see ... we're headin' out. It's vacation time. Montana calls. The land of "20-years-behind" plumbing. Waving strangers. Lonely stretches of road with gorgeous views. Louis and Clark territory.

There is no DSL where we are going. I believe there to be nary a phone line, even. (I jest, of course.)

The Point Being: It's time to commune with nature, visit relatives, relax and recreate. Time to four-wheel. Pick huckleberries. Time to beat the Father-In-Law relentlessly at Jenga.

Time to leave the blogging for another time, be it with pictures or with words.

While on leave, the camera will be working furiously and plentifully, to be sure. The posting, however, will not. If it does rear its head, it will be by happenstance only.

It will return ... on my return.

You'll survive. I'm sure of it .....

........................... Ruprecht ( STOP )

He's Not Dead After All .....

I love to read. I have since I was a kid in grade school.

I read voraciously. With volumes and volumes under my wing all through school, I found myself at the tail end of my high school years discovering Stephen R. Donaldson and his The Chronicles Of Thomas Covenant, The Unbeliever series of books.

The first - Lord Foul's Bane got me hooked right from the start.

The first trilogy centers around Thomas Covenant, a writer. Turns out he is a leper, too, despised by society and left to his own devices by his wife in order to protect their son from his disease. Covenant is conflicted and complex and destined to become the savior of The Land so lushly illustrated in the books, unsure if what he is experiencing while there is something real or some figment of his imagination. His sanity is at stake and the health of The Land is something he cannot fathom and even rejects, thus setting up the first trilogy of tales.

This was an amazing read for me way back when.

And then, at some point over the past 25 years, I thought Stephen R. Donaldson - with the six books about Thomas Covenant written making up the first and second chronicles - was dead.

When did he die? Where did he die? What did he die of? How old was he?

I had no clue. And never researched to find out.

Quite amazing when it's my nature to search out information on things that trip my trigger, seeking out every little bit of trivia I come across on an item. I'm a walking encyclopedia, oft times.

So ... I went quietly about my business, thinking Mr. Donaldson was dead and gone, not giving it another thought.

Until last weekend.

I was in a close-out shop of books and I came across The Runes Of The Earth, the first book in The Last Chronicles Of Thomas Covenant. by none other than the "back from the dead" Stephen R. Donaldson. What a shock to the system. I purchased it immediately.

I found out right then and there that this new (to me) series of books would run four volumes. Giddy with my find, I didn't know whether to dig in right then and there or begin at the beginning and start the entire cycle all over again, just for the sake of the pure joy of reading. And I still haven't figured out what I'm going to do.

But .... I have a vacation coming up. I will be relaxing with the family. And, when I get the opportunity, I'll be turning pages - whether with Lord Foul's Bane or with The Runes Of The Earth - toasting Mr. Donaldson once more, glad that he is alive and well and working on the last two books of the series.

...................... Ruprecht ( STOP )

Father's Day Rememberance

One of the last joyous times I had with my father was at his house in North Port, Florida more than two years ago.

It had been some time since he'd had a poker party and he was going to have one come hell or high water.

Guests were hailed. Food was purchased. Booze was put on ice.

Promptly, at the time indicated, a slew of friends and cohorts arrived, ancient and spry. I was introduced to each and every one of them. I heard more "Your father has told me so much about you!"-s, the smile that resided on my face had to have looked rote to anyone else that knew me. But not to these folks. It was genuine to them. They were indeed glad to see me. They were thrilled to have finally met me. And I them, no matter what my face might belie.

You see, this was the first visit I had had with my father in five plus years, since he swung out my way when I was last in Utah, on his way to his new digs in Florida.

It was the first time I'd met all his Floridian friends and it was the first time I had ever played poker with him. It was the first time I saw him eat as heartily as he did since coming to visit him a week prior. It was the first time he'd had a beer in ages.

He had ravaging cancer, you see. That was the reason I was there.

While playing poker, he cajoled and spit sarcasm and laughed and denied stories his friends told. It was indeed a sight to behold. It had been a long, long, long time since last I saw him have such unencumbered fun. And it would be the final time as well.

Early the next morning, I would have to call an ambulance to get him to a hospital. And I would spend the next few days in the hospital with him. He would recover enough for me to be able to leave, as scheduled, for home. He was cognizant and smiling and back to his stubborn, unemotional self when I left. His wife, I knew, had her hands full in the coming weeks.

I was back less than two months later. I was able to see him before he passed, coincidentally the night I got in. He was aware I was there, but that's about it.

Between talking to him and praying for him, I reminded him of that poker game a few months prior. I think it was the last time I saw him smile .....

Happy Father's Day, Dad.

........................ Ruprecht ( STOP )

Macaroni Grilling No More

It was rather a shame Macaroni Grill closed in this neck of the woods this week. But it was rumored there might be a bevy of treasures being gotten rid off.

As it turned out, there was little to see. And not much to be had.

Rupe acquired a gaggle of industrial strength serving plates akin to the one shown here (concoction not included) along with two spifftacular aluminum pizza peels with wooden handles. A couple dozen circular wooden bread serving plates.

Tossed in a conveniently placed dumpster in the parking lot were a couple cases of Macaroni Grill's signature bread - still completely sealed and usable - along with lots of other restaurant refuse. At least the bread would go to a good home - to the homeless we have wandering about, living 'round the storm drains and bridges we have here.

But, Rupe's certain you're wondering about all the wine. Miles and miles of wine that graced the interior of the restaurant. It really is criminal what they did with it. The majority of that wine was uncorked and disposed of. A few were hauled off by the management, the remainder was down-the-drained. It was enough to make any grape-lover cry. The emptied bottles were either hauled off by those that would take them for recycling or smashed and trashed.

Rupe spoke with one of the Big Boys who was overseeing the Grill's closure the day it shut its doors for the final time last Thursday. Rupe even volunteered to do a bit of "demolition work", but was kindly told that wouldn't be possible. Big Boy was accommodating and informative to a fault, but "company policy" prohibited anyone assisting with any "demolition duties".

So ... after wading through rolling bins and burnt-bottomed pots and soiled linens and a full bag of onions among other items, there was naught to do but sigh and leave.

Rupe acquired one sad momento from the Grill ... one of the last legacy items showing evidence Macaroni Grill was ever a vibrant gathering place for the hungry in the city of Monrovia:

.......................... Ruprecht ( STOP )