The morning commute sucked!

I waited half an hour at the corner of Pine & First this morning for a bus that's supposed to come by every ten minutes. The crowd was mostly not yet completely awake and so the surliness was muted by exhaustion and the gentle Seattle drizzle, but it was a big crowd under the shelter, much bigger than it should have been.

I stood back on the sidewalk. It wasn't raining hard enough to be a concern. The New Age bookstore behind me read "Help Wanted! Must have metaphysical and retail experience." I wondered how one did that: did you need letters of recommendation from both The Gap and your swami?

I gave up waiting and decided to walk. It was only a mile. On the way I got splashed by an SUV so I made it the office with one leg cold and wet and miserable, the rest of me hot under the collar, and generally not in a mood to start my day. It wasn't until I reached the sotp where I normally get off that the first avenue bus came roaring up behind me. Oh, well, I needed the exercise.

Someone had drunk my milk in the refrigerator at work.

New benchmark: anyone who claims PHP experience and can't write PHP better than Omaha doesn't pass the interview.

Buzz? You want Buzz?

Oh. My. Gods. Weird Al nails my ass to the floor.

No more Queer Eye

Omaha and I have given up watching Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. In the first two seasons, the show had an honesty and verve that wasn't anywhere else on television. It was about finding poor schlubs and improving them in some way; going through the motions of metro'ing a guy: teaching him how to wash himself, maintain his dwelling, dress successfully, cook for himself and his partner, and choose the right music and media for wooing. Such stuff was edifying and generally kid-safe.

But the the latest season is just awful. The show's success seems to have taken off the brakes. Because they're a good forum for hawking products, Kaya's no longer about obscure but interesting things he likes: instead he has to sell Novena and Nutregena and stuff you can get off Amazon. Tom pimps for Ikea, and Carson does the Target "name" lines. The "fab five" aren't so fabulous anymore: they seem to believe that, being on cable and being successful, they can get away with anything, and the level of raunch they feel comfortable using has gone up to levels such that it's no longer near-acceptable for the kids to watch.

That's just sad. It was a good show once.

This summer, I've trying out Zinfandels to see what all the bad publicity was about. Yeah, they're one step up from wine-coolers and it's hard to ruin them (although Cypress 2005 tries hard) and there are some drier varieties that are really delicious (like Big House, which unfortunately has stopped making its blush line). Last week as I was sitting down to dinner with a glass, I picked it in the same way I usually pick up a red, and Kouryou-chan said, "Daddy! That's a white wine! You're supposed to hold it by the stem!"

I can only hope that such refinements of life stick with her when she's old enough for it to actually matter. Fortunately, at six she doesn't even like the way wine smells and has no interest in its taste. She's a weird kid anyway: she'd rather drink milk than soda pop and usually leaves her fruit juice half-drunk anyway.