Every now and then, some of the Ninjas and Pregnant Cheerleaders meet up on a Friday afternoon to indulge in a few adult libations during the Happy Hour period of the day. This Friday we went to BJ’s Restaurant in Burbank. BJ’s is a sports bar/brewery, much like Coach’s of Norman. Because I am a responsible adult, I only had three drinks: 2 of the Irish Red and 1 of the Stout. As a beer “kind of guy,” I am always on the look out for new beers to try. I always go in with an open mind and I try to give each beer I taste a fair chance.
BJ’s did not disappoint; both of the beers I tasted were great. The Irish Red was smooth and had a sweetish taste and the Stout was good without being as thick as motor oil. I do not want to give a meaningless score to the beers, so I will say that they were good enough for me to want to drive back to Burbank to try the rest of their brews.
I saw 300 on Saturday night with Megan. I liked the movie, probably enough to buy it when it is released on DVD. I think the critics gave poor ratings for the wrong reasons. No one ever said that 300 was supposed to be a documentary or historically accurate; after all, the movie is based on a graphic novel of the same name. Yes, it was over the top and most of the story was “improved on,” but that does not make 300 a bad movie. If one were to enjoy the movie for what it is, a popcorn action movie, one would “get” the point of the film, that being to be entertained for 2 hours. Fair enough if you did not like the movie because of personal taste, but giving 300 a bad review because it was not “realistic” or was not true to history is just dumb.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
St. Patrick's Tiki Bar
For reasons I cannot explain because they just do not make sense, I am always surprised to find out that my work friends actually have lives outside of work. The other day I spent one of my rare breaks with someone whom I “work with” in the sense that we both work for the same company, but in different departments that have little, if any, interaction. As she told me about her weekend, I realized that I spend a lot of time at work and a lot of time thinking about work on my down time. As an IT professional, I can be called in to work at moments notice. Likewise, my schedule is not set in stone: late nights and early mornings are not uncommon for people in my field. I do not spend nearly as much time in the office as my network administrator and engineer; those guys come in early and stay late in the same day at least 4 days out of the week. I consider myself to be very fortunate because even though I am paid less, I am compensated for my time with overtime pay; those on salary can kiss the extra hours they spend at work goodbye.
On top of putting in overtime on a regular basis, I wind up doing work related activities during “my time” usually on a daily basis. There is no shortage of certifications to prove your worth as a professional in the IT industry, and unfortunately, one must have as many as possible to get an interview these days, even if they are “paper certs” that were only passed, barely, due to a two week cram session before the exam. IT certifications have lost their credibility over the years because they are cheap and easy to get; the difficulty only comes from the test taker’s ability to memorize questions taken from the test verbatim. As much as I like to keep my brain stimulated, reading technical manuals in my spare time is not the way I like to relax. I cannot tell you how many times I have fallen asleep on the couch with a 5-inch thick book opened across my face. My point is that reading press books is a lot like work for me: I spend all day working on computers only to come home to have to read about fixing computers. I know it is for the best, though, so I try to make the best of it.
Fortunately, I did not think about work much this weekend. Saturday was St. Patrick’s day, a holiday that is sacred to me not because it is an excuse to drink heavily, but because it is about the fellowship of man, people coming together for a common cause: umm… drinking. Nevertheless, every post-21 birthday I have had has been spent with my friends and this year was no exception.
Saturday started out as any Saturday should: a brief 2.5 mile jog through the neighborhood, followed by a couple of hours of kickball practice. Even though our “practices” have mostly been scrimmaging against the Pregnant Cheerleaders because only 5-7 people on the team bother to show up, it is still one of my favorite days of the week. After a fun-filled hour-long scrimmage, we came back to the apartment to clean up before going out for the night.
The night, while not the same level of awesomeness that O’Connell’s is, was still a good time. We hit up Numero Uno, a pizza joint famed for it’s incredibly cheesy pizza goodness. I thought the pizza was good, not as good as Guido’s, but still damn good. Our plans deviated from normal March 17th festivities when we drove to a Tiki bar rather than an Irish pub. If you did not already know, Los Angeles is a ginormous city, full of lots of people that like to drink. Rumor has it that if we had gone to an Irish pub, we would have waited in line for 2 hours just to get in to the establishment before we spent another 2 hours waiting in line to get drinks from the bar (I later found out that O’Connell’s was just as bad this year). Waiting in line is never fun, so we decided to hit a smaller bar that had nothing to do with Ireland.
The bar was pretty much your “average” Tiki bar: they served tropical drinks in Tiki head mugs and there were Tiki head statues all over the place. The DJ was probably the raddest dude ever; his music selection was practically the top 100 greatest songs of the 80s. As cool as the bar was, though, the experience went down the crapper as the night wore on. The building was very tiny and many people had the same idea we did about avoiding the Irish hotspots in LA, so the place filled up quickly. Not only that, but it turned in to more of a disco as more Hispanic folks started showing up. I have no problem with Hispanics, but very loud “Oompah” music is not what I want to listen to when I am drinking. Megan and I left after midnight, leaving the rest of the gang to party in the dark. Overall, going out to a Tiki bar was fun, but nothing can ever beat hanging out at O’Connell’s for 6 hours with your best buds.
On top of putting in overtime on a regular basis, I wind up doing work related activities during “my time” usually on a daily basis. There is no shortage of certifications to prove your worth as a professional in the IT industry, and unfortunately, one must have as many as possible to get an interview these days, even if they are “paper certs” that were only passed, barely, due to a two week cram session before the exam. IT certifications have lost their credibility over the years because they are cheap and easy to get; the difficulty only comes from the test taker’s ability to memorize questions taken from the test verbatim. As much as I like to keep my brain stimulated, reading technical manuals in my spare time is not the way I like to relax. I cannot tell you how many times I have fallen asleep on the couch with a 5-inch thick book opened across my face. My point is that reading press books is a lot like work for me: I spend all day working on computers only to come home to have to read about fixing computers. I know it is for the best, though, so I try to make the best of it.
Fortunately, I did not think about work much this weekend. Saturday was St. Patrick’s day, a holiday that is sacred to me not because it is an excuse to drink heavily, but because it is about the fellowship of man, people coming together for a common cause: umm… drinking. Nevertheless, every post-21 birthday I have had has been spent with my friends and this year was no exception.
Saturday started out as any Saturday should: a brief 2.5 mile jog through the neighborhood, followed by a couple of hours of kickball practice. Even though our “practices” have mostly been scrimmaging against the Pregnant Cheerleaders because only 5-7 people on the team bother to show up, it is still one of my favorite days of the week. After a fun-filled hour-long scrimmage, we came back to the apartment to clean up before going out for the night.
The night, while not the same level of awesomeness that O’Connell’s is, was still a good time. We hit up Numero Uno, a pizza joint famed for it’s incredibly cheesy pizza goodness. I thought the pizza was good, not as good as Guido’s, but still damn good. Our plans deviated from normal March 17th festivities when we drove to a Tiki bar rather than an Irish pub. If you did not already know, Los Angeles is a ginormous city, full of lots of people that like to drink. Rumor has it that if we had gone to an Irish pub, we would have waited in line for 2 hours just to get in to the establishment before we spent another 2 hours waiting in line to get drinks from the bar (I later found out that O’Connell’s was just as bad this year). Waiting in line is never fun, so we decided to hit a smaller bar that had nothing to do with Ireland.
The bar was pretty much your “average” Tiki bar: they served tropical drinks in Tiki head mugs and there were Tiki head statues all over the place. The DJ was probably the raddest dude ever; his music selection was practically the top 100 greatest songs of the 80s. As cool as the bar was, though, the experience went down the crapper as the night wore on. The building was very tiny and many people had the same idea we did about avoiding the Irish hotspots in LA, so the place filled up quickly. Not only that, but it turned in to more of a disco as more Hispanic folks started showing up. I have no problem with Hispanics, but very loud “Oompah” music is not what I want to listen to when I am drinking. Megan and I left after midnight, leaving the rest of the gang to party in the dark. Overall, going out to a Tiki bar was fun, but nothing can ever beat hanging out at O’Connell’s for 6 hours with your best buds.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Gray Skies Are Blue to Me
Today's weather was awesome: cloudy, rainy, and cold. Apparently no one else shared my sentiment, seeing as that everyone I heard talking about the weather bitched about how cold it was outside. My network administrator told me that I should live in Seattle since I like the rain so much. I have always liked rain and cold; I am not sure why, but there is something comforting about a cool, rainy day.
I do not see what the problem is with not having perfect weather for one day out of the year. Californians are seriously spoiled with this one season year all year thing they have going. The rumor is that your blood thins the longer you live here; I am inclined to believe that statement since I have never in my life heard so many people complain about it being below 65 degrees during the middle of the day. Seeing soccer moms waddle around campus because they are bundled up in full winter parkas, complete with Ugs, scarf, and mittens while I walk around in a short-sleeve polo is a joke.
I think my admin is right, though: Los Angeles is definitely not the place to be if I want crappy weather on a consistent basis. Perhaps New England would better suit my barometric tastes... come to think of it, Ye Olde England would hit the spot as well.
I do not see what the problem is with not having perfect weather for one day out of the year. Californians are seriously spoiled with this one season year all year thing they have going. The rumor is that your blood thins the longer you live here; I am inclined to believe that statement since I have never in my life heard so many people complain about it being below 65 degrees during the middle of the day. Seeing soccer moms waddle around campus because they are bundled up in full winter parkas, complete with Ugs, scarf, and mittens while I walk around in a short-sleeve polo is a joke.
I think my admin is right, though: Los Angeles is definitely not the place to be if I want crappy weather on a consistent basis. Perhaps New England would better suit my barometric tastes... come to think of it, Ye Olde England would hit the spot as well.
Monday, March 19, 2007
A League of Their Own
I find the distinct lack of inline hockey rinks in Los Angeles to be very disturbing. Before I moved here, I figured that California, especially Los Angeles of all places, would have an inline hockey rink in every city, if not on every block. I came to a sad realization last Sunday when I found out that not only are there not hundreds of rinks in LA, but inline hockey the sport is in a steady decline.
I have been in search of a league in which to play since we moved here last August. Like any person living in 21st century would, I used the internets to conduct my search, thinking it was a reasonable way to find a place to play. Everything I found, though, was out of business, no longer had a league, or was over an hour away… and considering how much I hate driving in Los Angeles, having to drive long distances in the city really was not an option for me.
My luck turned around 2 weeks ago when I found out that my YMCA was actually going to start a summer league for men’s inline hockey. One of the reasons why we chose to buy a membership to this particular gym is that they have a functional outdoor rink for inline hockey and arena soccer. The gym staff indicated that there were regularly scheduled leagues and that the sport was healthy in the area, but in the months to follow, I never once saw an organized game for adults. When Megan and I were leaving the gym one evening, I saw a new flier for a men’s league that is to start in April plus pickup games every Sunday night until the season began. I inquired about the validity of the advertisement, obviously skeptical of what I read, but again, the staff was confident that this league would actually start. I took a flier as a reminder, but I did not want to get too excited since I had been waiting for months for this to happen with no results.
Last Sunday I packed up my gear and drove to the gym. One person beat me to the rink, a goalie, who was also skeptical about the scheduled pickup game. We talked briefly about the state of the game in Los Angeles: here is where I found out that the sport has been in decline for several years, whereas ice hockey has steadily grown in popularity. I suspect this trend has something to do with the weather –no one wants to gear up with insulating equipment in the middle of a valley summer- but without having a way to verify this, it will have to remain speculation.
I laced up and skated on the floor for 30 minutes before other players started to show up. Before long, we had enough people to actually start a game with one team shooting against a goaltender and the other having to shoot for the posts. The level of talent appears to be the same as the leagues I played in back home: there are 2 to 3 hotshots with the rest being on or around my level. Most of the guys present indicated that they knew each other, so I did my best to socialize so I could possibly find a team in need of another player.
My efforts did not disappoint, as I found a team before I left for the evening. I only met 3 of the guys on the team, but they seem nice enough, and I will be honest here, this is the same thing as a men’s softball league: it is for fun and should not be taken too seriously. I am looking forward to playing, even though the facilities are not the best; an outdoor rink is good in concept but terrible in application: dust makes getting good grip with your wheels impossible, it is hot, and games are cancelled due to rain and excessive moisture on the floor, but this is better than nothing, which is what I had before. Besides, the registration fee is only $45 for YMCA members, so even if the league turns out to be a bust, at least I got to play without shelling out any cash.
I have been in search of a league in which to play since we moved here last August. Like any person living in 21st century would, I used the internets to conduct my search, thinking it was a reasonable way to find a place to play. Everything I found, though, was out of business, no longer had a league, or was over an hour away… and considering how much I hate driving in Los Angeles, having to drive long distances in the city really was not an option for me.
My luck turned around 2 weeks ago when I found out that my YMCA was actually going to start a summer league for men’s inline hockey. One of the reasons why we chose to buy a membership to this particular gym is that they have a functional outdoor rink for inline hockey and arena soccer. The gym staff indicated that there were regularly scheduled leagues and that the sport was healthy in the area, but in the months to follow, I never once saw an organized game for adults. When Megan and I were leaving the gym one evening, I saw a new flier for a men’s league that is to start in April plus pickup games every Sunday night until the season began. I inquired about the validity of the advertisement, obviously skeptical of what I read, but again, the staff was confident that this league would actually start. I took a flier as a reminder, but I did not want to get too excited since I had been waiting for months for this to happen with no results.
Last Sunday I packed up my gear and drove to the gym. One person beat me to the rink, a goalie, who was also skeptical about the scheduled pickup game. We talked briefly about the state of the game in Los Angeles: here is where I found out that the sport has been in decline for several years, whereas ice hockey has steadily grown in popularity. I suspect this trend has something to do with the weather –no one wants to gear up with insulating equipment in the middle of a valley summer- but without having a way to verify this, it will have to remain speculation.
I laced up and skated on the floor for 30 minutes before other players started to show up. Before long, we had enough people to actually start a game with one team shooting against a goaltender and the other having to shoot for the posts. The level of talent appears to be the same as the leagues I played in back home: there are 2 to 3 hotshots with the rest being on or around my level. Most of the guys present indicated that they knew each other, so I did my best to socialize so I could possibly find a team in need of another player.
My efforts did not disappoint, as I found a team before I left for the evening. I only met 3 of the guys on the team, but they seem nice enough, and I will be honest here, this is the same thing as a men’s softball league: it is for fun and should not be taken too seriously. I am looking forward to playing, even though the facilities are not the best; an outdoor rink is good in concept but terrible in application: dust makes getting good grip with your wheels impossible, it is hot, and games are cancelled due to rain and excessive moisture on the floor, but this is better than nothing, which is what I had before. Besides, the registration fee is only $45 for YMCA members, so even if the league turns out to be a bust, at least I got to play without shelling out any cash.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Finally A Paper Californian
I broke down yesterday and finally registered my car with the state of California. Going to the DMV is probably the worst experience anyone can ever have and my third trip to the bowels of lack luster government help was no exception. Regardless of how horrible waiting in line just to get a number so I can wait in line some more is, I buckled down and got things done. It didn't go as smoothly as I would have hoped, but now I can at least say that I can legally drive in California.
My biggest problem at the DMV came at the point when I was supposed to surrender my old Oklahoma plate for the new, bright and shiny (they really are bright and shiny) California plates. As it turns out, one doesn't change license plates very often, so it didn't come as a surprise to me when I couldn't remove the plate from my car because the screws holding it on were rusted completely through. After struggling with the plate for 30 minutes in the DMV parking lot, I dejectedly admitted defeat to the clerk who told me that I could just surrender my plate at a later time.
New plates in hand, I went home to work on removing the troublesome Oklahoma plate from my car. Hours later, I wound up ripping it off of my car, thus making it impossible for me to put a new plate in the same spot. Fortunately, with a little ingenuity and 2 trips to the hardware store, I was able to permanently attach the plate to my car; hopefully I won't have to remove it because I don't think I will be able to get it back on if I do.
All in all, though, I am very satisfied with myself: I completed a big-kid task without too many problems and without having to go completely of my way in order to accomplish something that needed to be done. I still don't like the idea of being a legal Californian, so I refer to my status as being a "paper Californian;" i.e. I have a state driver's license and The Man knows about my car, but other than that, I'm just someone that moved here from out of state. I'm still not a huge fan of California; I find that most Los Angeles residents are self-righteous assholes, so I am content to separate myself from the general public even if it is only through terminology. I still pay taxes to California, I vote in California, and I deal with the same crap as everyone else, but if that term is the one thing that I can use to make myself different, then by God I'm going to put it to use for as long as I can.
My biggest problem at the DMV came at the point when I was supposed to surrender my old Oklahoma plate for the new, bright and shiny (they really are bright and shiny) California plates. As it turns out, one doesn't change license plates very often, so it didn't come as a surprise to me when I couldn't remove the plate from my car because the screws holding it on were rusted completely through. After struggling with the plate for 30 minutes in the DMV parking lot, I dejectedly admitted defeat to the clerk who told me that I could just surrender my plate at a later time.
New plates in hand, I went home to work on removing the troublesome Oklahoma plate from my car. Hours later, I wound up ripping it off of my car, thus making it impossible for me to put a new plate in the same spot. Fortunately, with a little ingenuity and 2 trips to the hardware store, I was able to permanently attach the plate to my car; hopefully I won't have to remove it because I don't think I will be able to get it back on if I do.
All in all, though, I am very satisfied with myself: I completed a big-kid task without too many problems and without having to go completely of my way in order to accomplish something that needed to be done. I still don't like the idea of being a legal Californian, so I refer to my status as being a "paper Californian;" i.e. I have a state driver's license and The Man knows about my car, but other than that, I'm just someone that moved here from out of state. I'm still not a huge fan of California; I find that most Los Angeles residents are self-righteous assholes, so I am content to separate myself from the general public even if it is only through terminology. I still pay taxes to California, I vote in California, and I deal with the same crap as everyone else, but if that term is the one thing that I can use to make myself different, then by God I'm going to put it to use for as long as I can.
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