Thanks for stopping by

Just a quick "thank you" to those who took the time to stop by and read a post or two. I always respond to comments and update this blog on a regular basis, so please bookmark (or subscribe to) The Other Drummer and come back soon!

Thanks,

Dave

P.S. Check out the "Notable Posts" links to the right.

11 year old bags 1,000 lb wild boar

According to this article in USA Today, this kid shot that boar while on a hunting trip.

"Jamison, who killed his first deer at age 5, was hunting with father Mike Stone and two guides in east Alabama on May 3 when he bagged Monster Pig. He said he shot the huge animal eight times with a .50-caliber revolver and chased it for three hours through hilly woods before finishing it off with a point-blank shot."

Who takes their FIVE YEAR OLD hunting?? And what kindergartner shoots a deer?? Did he bring the mounted head into show and tell?
I can see the whole thing in my head: He's wearing camo fatigues and a stained wife beater. His teacher looks nervous.

"I shot this here deer this weekend with my 30.06," he says as he spits tobacco into an empty beer can. "I wanted to use the scope, but my pa said scopes are for sissies and Yanks, so I done did it without."

Sad thing is, in Alabama he'd probably get extra credit for it. (Not for bringing the deer head in, but for shooting it without a scope.)

Isn't there some law that says you have to be at least a teenager before you wield a gun that can kill a 1,000 pound boar? Apparently not in the South.


P.S. What did you think of this post? Loved it? Loathed it? Leave me a comment!
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Einstein was right

As I bring my head up above ground I squint into the sunlight. What time is it? What day is it? Has the world ended? Planets collided? World peace been achieved? I have no idea. I've been busy keeping track of how often my kid poops, the color/consistency of said stool, and whether or not he peed too.

Then I change the diaper.

The last five days have been a complete blur. Honestly, most of the time I have no concept of date or time. The days flow together via a string of randomly placed half hour naps. AM? PM? Irrelevant. Breakfast? Dinner? Trivial. Time is no longer measured by the place of th sun in the Heavens. My universe now revolves around a new son (HA! Get it?? Yes. I'm tired.) and time is only relevant to when a diaper was changed in comparison to the next appointed feeding and whether or not there is enough space in there to sleep.

Suddenly, the theory of relativity makes sense. See? Kids make you smarter.

OK. Deep breath. Time to go back down into the word of diapers and crying and binkys and burping and the wonderful cuteness that is my son.

Being a dad is so awesome.

Thank you

Thank you so much for the wonderful comments. Your support and well-wishes have been very appreciated.

Oh yeah. I put some more pictures on my Picasa site. Click here for more pics of my extremely cute son.

Jake's first pictures

More pics here.

3:28 - The Bun arrives

After just a half hour of pushing, our son arrived healthy, happy and big: 9 lbs 12 oz and 22 inches. (We suspect he's actually longer than that and are waiting on a second opinion.)

My wife...my wife was amazing. I have never felt so much love for any one person. Whenever I looked at her my heart brimmed over with the deepest love and admiration. It literally overwhelmed me.

And then there were two people to share that love with.

I am truly blessed.

1:50 - Room prepped

A nurse tech, or CNA, or someone like that came and set up our room for delivery. Dilated to a nine. For those unfamiliar with the process, once she is a 10 that means "push".

It should be noted that I'm only making these posts when a nurse comes in, or other situations when my wife is busy doing something else.

11:38 - Dilation update

4.5. The nurse thinks The Bun will arrive by mid-afternoon.

10:55 - Epidural in, husband out

It was time for the epidural. No point in enduring so much pain if you don't have to, right?

Needles generally don't bother me. However, the idea of shoving a 5" needle into my wife's spine makes me a little weak in the knees. I excused myself to the waiting room which was surprisingly crappy. Aside from the MASH reruns on the little TV there was nothing else to look at. No newspapers. No magazines. It could quite possibly be the worst waiting room I've ever been in. Good thing they don't make the husbands wait in there anymore.

10:00 - Contractions start

Glad it's not me.

9:18 - The dam bursts

They broke my wife's water. Or, as medical professionals say, "The waters have been broken". (Weirdos.)

With the petocin drip, it's a waiting game now.

Time for a movie?

9:14 - The doctor arrives

Our doctor came in to say hi. She can monitor things from upstairs which is cool.

7:45 - Meeting the nurse

Good news. Our nurse seems to be really cool, and very experienced (33 years).

I think we'll keep her.

My wife is all hooked up to the machines and whatnot. Everything looks good.

7:10 - Go/No-go for launch

We're a go. Heading into the hospital now.

6:34 am - Easily awake

We both woke up without our alarm clocks after a not-so-restful night. Time to finish packing and get ready for the 7:00 phone call to the hospital to confirm that today is in fact The Day.

8 hours to showtime

We're checking into the hospital tomorrow at 7:30 am. That means we should have been in bed hours ago. Somehow, knowing when you're going to have a child the next day makes it difficult to sleep.

As a result, the apartment is very clean, we're all packed and for some reason we feel the need to document what's happening: Amy is writing in her journal, I'm blogging and writing in mine, and we both just made a short little video.

Life is going to change.

As time and circumstances permit, I will make posts tomorrow to keep those interested up-to-date. Also, check my Twitter feed (gray box under the "For your own safety..." pic to the right) for periodic updates as well.

Most of all, wish us (mostly my wife) luck. It's a scary road to go down and your thoughts and prayers are appreciated.

Monday is the day*

Yup. The doctor told us that if my wife doesn't have the baby this weekend, they're going to induce her on Monday.

The nurse popped her head in once to tell us the doctor had been called down to do a delivery.

OK.

A while later she came in again, apologized for the delay and, almost as an aside, mentioned they'd scheduled our induction for Monday.

Pardon?

Apparently she was under the impression we'd already been informed of this. We hadn't. Sure enough, we're heading to the hospital Monday morning if the little tyke doesn't decide to come on his own, sooner.

It came as a bit of a shock. We actually have a deadline. "You mean, he's actually going to show up??"

Reality has just come extremely close to setting in.

Of course, thoughts and prayers are more than welcome. We'll keep you posted.

Yet Twitter persists

Just about everyone's heard about Twitter by now. It's a cool concept with a rabid following and has absolutely exploded in popularity, especially after SXSW.

I have a Twitter account (I have a Twitter feed embedded in my blog right under the "Do not walk in this area after dark" sign) and I post updates from IM and my phone on a fairly regular basis.

What I don't get is how come people, including myself, continue to use it when it's so @#$% buggy. It seems to have issues more often than not.

It seems they've certainly had enough time to work out the bugs, and should have expected the onslaught of users after all the media coverage at SXSW...so why isn't it working?

I wonder how much patience people will have before they give up and move on.

New Transformers trailer online

Here are some screen shots I nabbed. Link for the actual trailer at the bottom of the post.




While I remember having Transformers as a kid, I wasn't really, really excited for the movie to come out until I saw this trailer. It's gonna be awesome.

Zappos going above and beyond

I always like promoting companies with good customer service, and The Consumerist has a remarkable story about Zappos.com:

"My wife had ordered a pair of sandals from Zappos. When they arrived, she found that they didn't fit. She tried to order the right size, but Zappos was sold out of her size. So here's what the company offered: she could return the sandals (for free), Zappos would refund the purchase price and they'd send her a $25 coupon toward her next purchase.

But wait -- there's more! Zappos also offered to try to locate a pair of the sandals in her size from another vendor. (Hah! Sure, they will!) Fifteen minutes later, the company called my wife and told her they'd found her sandals, in her size, at another online merchant -- "and," the Zappos clerk told her, "they're even cheaper at this other site!"

I'll certainly consider them for my next shoe purchase!

It's just not right

I've found few things in my life more nauseating than this.

Poetry

I would like to read a book of poetry, but not have to understand poetry to appreciate it.

Any suggestions?

Proper hygeine

I am about to have a son. I understand little boys are dirty and messy and like playing with snakes, lizards, bugs, et. al. I certainly did. However, I cannot imagine letting my kid (still nameless) get to the point where he has insects living in his head.

Or, as this story illustrates, arachnids.

Yes, this kid had not one, but two spiders living in his ears. Doctors suspect they had moved in one night and stayed because the plentiful supply of ear wax they were eating.

He went into the doctor after complaining of an earache and hearing a "tapping" sound, like Rice Krispies, which turned out to be the spiders walking on his eardrums.

I'm not sure which is more frightening: spiders walking on your eardrums or the term "mucus plug".

The doctor flushed his ear and the the first spider came out, dead. The second spider came out alive and well. The kid, seen above, got to keep both as a souvenir. As if it's something to be proud of.

Wipe that grin off your face, kid. You're disgusting.

This story serves one purpose well: as I think about stories parents tell their kids ("Don't sit too close to the TV or your eyeballs will melt"), this is gonna make a great one.

My Xbox 360 crapped out on me

Yes, another expensive piece of my electronic equipment has bit the dust. What's with my luck? (Or lack thereof.)

The screen kept freezing and the Three Red Lights of Death would pop up occasionally. I called tech support and spoke to a nice person with a thick accent who did a very good job of reading from a screen. She walked me through some troubleshooting steps and determined I had a "hardware malfunction".

The good news is that repairs are covered (under their recently extended warranty) and they'll even pay for shipping both ways. So far, my experience with Microsoft's customer service has been better than with Apple's.

The bad news is that I'm going to be without my xbox during the two or three weeks of vacation I'm going to be taking once The Bun arrives.

Maybe Costco will take it back.

The Office finale predictions

The Office posts have been noticeably absent from this blog, mainly because I haven't been that impressed with season three (I've found many episodes a bit formulaic, and what's with going on multi-month stretches without new episodes??).

That being said, last week's episode was pretty good and clearly set the stage for the season finale this week. First, some background. Then some predictions.

Michael got called by the CFO to come interview for a job.

Jim and Karen are also interviewing for the same job.

Here's what I think is going to happen:

Michael isn't really being considered for the job, but was invited to interview to keep up appearances. Before he gets too far into the interview, he'll down the position out of a sense of honor and loyalty to the Scranton Branch (despite the fact it was never going to be offered to him in the first place).

Jim will really be offered the job. He won't take it though, because he wants to see what will happen with Pam.

Karen, by default, will get the job. Jim, being the good guy he is, won't tell her he was offered it first. Ta-da. Karen is out of the picture, we're even more endeared toward Jim and we get to wait until next season to find out what happens with him and Pam.

Maybe it won't be that simple. They sure shocked everyone at the end of season two, although I can't imagine what they could do that would leave us hanging that much.

What are your predictions?

Dishwasher safe

Today I'd like to discuss a fundamental difference between men and women.

Every once in a while I'm a good enough husband to do the dishes. Sometimes I even do it without being coerced, or out of guilt for something stupid I did or said. More often than not, a pot and/or pan has been used in the preparation of the meal.

These pots and/or pans were a wedding gift. I remember opening them and seeing "DISHWASHER SAFE" prominently displayed on the side of the box.

This is not the fundamental difference. Both men and women agree that the outside of the box clearly says, "DISHWASHER SAFE".

The fundamental difference is that men believe the box is telling the truth.

Men understand that machine is servant to man. It is there to do our bidding: the entire point of its existence is to make our lives easier. (Or, in the case of electronics, entertain us.) It's a paradox of power and laziness which men thrive on.

This is why I try to put the pots in the dishwasher.

Somehow, "DISHWASHER SAFE" means something entirely different to women. It does not mean, "The contents of this box are safe to be washed in a dishwasher". I'm not sure what it means, but I know it doesn't mean that because when I go to put said contents into the dishwasher I'm told, "That doesn't go in the dishwasher."

My mind flashes back to the box the pot came in.

"It doesn't?"

"No."

"But it's dishwasher safe."

"You need to wash it by hand."

"But it's..."

"Don't worry about it. Set it on the counter and I'll do it later."

At this point I must carefully consider that last statement. Just as clearly as the side of the box said, "DISHWASHER SAFE", my wife has just told me that she'll wash the pot later. But, just as women read the same words on the box, the meaning is entirely different.

I am experienced enough to know the same, twisted principle applies here. And so I wash the dishwasher safe dish by hand, my male ego insulted as the dishwasher smirks up at me, "Sucker."

Brilliant business card concept

I'm all for this

This is what Alabama Judge Kenneth Robertson Jr. is sentencing people to. I think this is a great example of the punishment fitting the crime.

Thanks to the Consumerist for the pic.

Two questions

I'm looking for good podcasts on blogging. I checked out what iTunes had to offer and came up empty. Anyone have some recommendations?

Also, is there a site where people in Utah can register their blogs? I'd like to see what other people in the area are blogging about.

That is all.

Spiderman 3

Yeah. So we saw Spiderman 3 this weekend. Overall: eh. We were all a bit underwhelmed. Don't rush out to see it.

Paris goes to jail!

While I don't normally follow celebrity news/gossip, I gotta say this is awesome. Maybe this will teach the spoiled brat (my wife wouldn't let me say "whore") there are actually consequences in life.

She has to report to jail on June 5th. I don't get it. She's been caught with a suspended license due to two previous DUI's...why not cuff her and put her in jail then and there??

Chicken balls at Iggy's

Yes, Iggy's offers "chicken balls" on their menu. As if that name weren't bad enough, this is how your order appears on the receipt:


Oh, Iggy's! Why chicken BALLS? Chicken rounds, chicken rolls, even chicken spheres all sound better, more appetizing and less... uh... anatomically suggestive.

And your customers won't go home with a receipt for a Bucket O Balls.

Iggy's, I do freelance copywriting. Call me. My rates are reasonable.

Die RAZR die

Motorola, listen to me carefully. You had some good times. The RAZR was an amazing success: groundbreaking design, $500 with a contract, 50 million sold.

But now your laurels are as old and worn as the phone that got you them in the first place.

The RAZR is dead.

Changing the color of your product for four years does not constitute a "design refresh". Releasing a purple "version" for Mother's Day? "Tattooed" editions? Please. Technology years pass faster than dog years. That means your design for the RAZR is at least 21 years old. 21 years ago it was 1986.

With all these color changes and little innovation to an admittedly good, but dated, design you're coming across as the 32 year old whose sole sense of worth is founded on his high school football career.

Yes, you have the KRZR now. It's about two years overdue, but it's sleeker and shinier than it's predecessor. Why then, are you still trying to ring every last ounce out of the RAZR? Each new RAZR you come out with is being sold for free with a contract. Your once coveted, high-end phone is now used for free by pre-teens as a $9.99 per month add-on to their parent's plans.

The RAZR is killing the brand it established.

People used to say, "Cool! A RAZR!" Now, with a hint of nostalgia, they sigh and say, "The RAZR was cool..."

Do you see those three dots at the end of that statement? They're death. They signify the amount of time someone will fondly look back at their experience with your product, not unlike thinking about their first time playing Nintendo, until they snap out of it and start looking for the next cool thing.

Yet you're still pushing it as if it was the latest and greatest.

Discontinue it, even if it's making money. Pull it from the shelves, even if you lose money. It's hurting more than it's helping. People look at their phones with disgust half way through their two-year contracts as it is, and you're pushing the same phone four years later.

Take a cue from Apple: don't feed demand, create demand.

21 years ago Motorola gave us the RAZR. What are they doing now?