"Tune in next week, same Bat-Time, same Bat-Channel..."

Well folks, I've decided tonight to drive down to Florida. That is, I made the decision to go to Florida today, not that I'm driving down tonight. And it's not like it was a rash, spur of the moment type decision so much as it was a last second of the day kind. Comprende?

My mother and grandmother want to go down and use the condo in Pompano Beach (town right before you hit Ft. Lauderdale and thereafter Miami) that once belonged to my great-grandfather (he passed away a few years ago). They wanted me to drive. I had reservations about going because:

A. My friend from N.C. State was coming into town
B. My cousin who lives in Maryland was coming into town
C. Going to Florida when I'm still unemployed just doesn't sit right with me
D. Going to Florida for five days with just my mother and grandmother might not sit right with me either.

Don't get me wrong, I love them both, but five days alone with them might be trying. And it's Florida. You want to go there with friends and have crazy times on the beach, in the bars. Going with my mom and grandmother means I'll be alone on the beach, alone in the bars. Time with them will most likely be spent at the condo's pool.

BUT, as I've said, that's okay. If I didn't like it, I wouldn't go. But I can deal, I can adapt, I can still have fun.

So there won't be any new blog posts until my return Monday night, and I might need time to recuperate from my 12- hour drive, so don't expect any updates until the middle of next week. But what can you look forward to in my absence?

Here's a look at BLOG FUTURE!

"My Dog, the Killer!"
"Interesting Florida Stories Should They Occur!"
"Adventures in Babysitting! Tales that were promised weeks ago!"
"Thoughts on Skipping Town!"
"Dog Treat Taste Test!"
"Why 'My Sweet Sixteen' Show Sucks @$$!"
"Nothing on Terry Shiavo!"

And expect the beard to disappear.

--Cbake

And the Lord said "Thus your trials are at an End..."

Today marks the 40th day since Lent began, and I've been able to control my temptations and not break my oaths.

You know, I kind of expected the last 15 days or so to be crazy, counting down 'till the end like watching a pot boil.

I thought I'd have insane dreams of supermodels swimming in pools of beer.

But instead, it's been relatively easy. I've had no problem refusing a drink here and there. Last night, however, I had a large steak and shrimp and vegetable and rice dinner with my father, step-family, and brother who had come into town, and I wanted to have some wine to go with it. So I checked the Lent calendar to see just when my 40 days were up, because I knew it was almost time. I counted the days- darn, they don't end 'till Monday, but maaaaaybe I can count the day before Ash Wednesday as the beginning of the 40 days for me?

Nah, I made an oath and I won't break it. But then I looked at the calendar and for some reason, none of the links I googled about "Lent Calendar 2005" mentioned today, monday the 21st of March, as being the last day of Lent. Well why the heck not? I counted 40 days since the beginning, shouldn't today be the end?

Ohhhh no, I read further. Apparently, you're NOT supposed to count the sundays during Lent as a part of the 40 day total. Why? I don't have a good reason.

So oh well, no celebration for me yet. Back to the grind. But no bother. It's pretty easy now.
And when it ends I just might possibly be in Florida to celebrate.

--Cbake

"Is it safe?"

--Marathon Man

The answer? No, no NO, it never is! Not when you've got dentists like this running around:

Dentist Injects Semen in Patients' Mouths

Yes, this happened right here in Charlotte, North Carolina. Wait, before you get scared, let me correct myself- it happened in Cornelius. Sorry for the confusion.

But let me ask, did you get scared? For one brief mili-second, did you think "Oh my God maybe it's MY dentist who's squirting bodily fluids into patients' mouths and oh my God maybe I was one of them!" Was there the tiniest voice in the back of your head that screamed "AIEEEEE!!!" in panicked urgency when you read that line?

Okay, if there was, I'm sorry, I didn't intend that at all. Or maybe I did. Anyway, this just goes to show there are some real freakshows out there. And just because someone is an intelligent and important member of society, that doesn't stop him/her from showing the darker side of humanity and acting like an unrestrained lunatic.

Really, what on Earth would drive a dentist to consider doing this? After years and years of the same old routine, did he just get bored and decide "Hell, I wonder if I could squirt something else into this person's mouth and see if they notice"? Maybe he started with flat soda, then worked his way up to saliva before going all out perverted.

And shoot, wouldn't you hate to be the patient to sit up and say "HEY! That tasted like semen! -- I mean, uh, not that I'd know what *that* tastes like..."

And by the way everyone, today is March 15. BEWARE THE IDES OF MARCH. If Caesar couldn't escape it, neither can you.

--Cbake

"My fellow nerds and I shall return to the nerdery with our calculators."

--Tommy Boy

I am a geek.

I will admit it. I am not ashamed to say I am a geek, that I unabashedly love Star Wars and count down the days until the next movie is released. Last night I indulged in one of the more geekier acts a geek like me could partake in: analyzing movie trailers frame by frame.

But that's okay, because after last night, it's good to be a geek.

In case you folk didn't realize it, last night was the premiere of the new trailer for Star Wars: Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. And so, once a trailer of that stature makes it online, millions of geeks like me find the high resolution Quicktime version and go through each scene, each shot, one by one, one frame at a time, and stare, basking in the glow of the imagery before us, our minds concocting all kinds of scenarios to fit the oh so brief glimpses we've been given.

"You see that other light-saber? I bet that one belongs to Kit Fisto!"
"Wait, what's that behind Yoda? Oh snap, he's fighting in the Senate!"
"Mace is gonna die!"
"Anakin's got da Devil's Eyes!"
"No Jar Jar in sight!"

Yes, last night was a bright shining moment for geeks everywhere. This trailer rocked. Hard. Even those who have been let down by Episode I and II will admit this preview was intense, and it brings hope to all. Even George Lucas has said this movie might be the first Star Wars film to garner a PG-13 rating, and if you watch the trailer you'll be inclined to agree. "This movie ends in Hell," he says. Damn right. By the looks of things, everyone is in the sh** by the time this movie is over. All the Jedi are dead, Yoda takes a beatdown from the Emperor, Obi-Wan is betrayed by his best friend and student, the galaxy is in turmoil, the Republic realizes they willingly gave up their freedoms to a meglomaniacal tyrant. Who DOESN'T want to see that in the final Star Wars chapter?


For other geeks, last night also saw the premiere of a new trailer for the upcoming Legend of Zelda game for the Gamecube. The previous incarnation for that series was seen as a letdown for many because of it's cartoonish nature, but this new game looks to be a return to the more realistic tone that was promised by Ocarina of Time.

Because of such developments in the Geek World, I feel its necessary to clear up some misconceptions about geeks that some of you may have. I will now distinguish between Geeks, Nerds, Dorks, and Dweebs for your future reference.

A Geek is not a derogatory term. A geek is anyone who is obsessed with anything. For instance, I am a Movie Geek. However, I'm also a Star Wars geek, and at times a Comic Book Geek. There can be Sports Geeks, Civil War Geeks, and even Car Geeks, though they prefer to be called "Motor Enthusiasts". We call them Self-Hating Geeks.

Nerds are just people who are really smart. Conan O' Brien is a nerd. He went to Harvard. The term nerd has nothing to do with physical behavior or appearance; it all relies on intelligence. So up to now, you realize a geek and a nerd can still be a "cool" person.

However, Dorks display behavior that is often cornballish, goofy, weird, and has the slight potential to be annoying. A dork can be smart or dumb, attractive or ugly. It's all in how they act. Dorks aren't always bad; they are often funny. I myself can act like a dork quite often... but that's okay, moving on.

Dweebs are the worst of the bunch. You don't want to be called one of those. Unfortunately, a dweeb has all your classic "nerd" attributes that most associate with the latter, and the term relies mostly on looks and physical appearance: skinny frame, pale skin, glasses, pocket protector, bad hair, etc. A dweeb doesn't have to be smart to be called one; he can also be slow or intelligent.

Sometimes you can have combinations. There are a number of "nerdy dweebs" (Bill Gates perhaps?), and "dorky nerds" (Bill Nye to an extent). I myself might be considered to be a "nerdy movie geek". Or a "geeky dork". I am most definitely not "dweebish", though, thank God.

So if you think you fit into any one of these categories, do not worry. Embrace your inner geek. It's good to have passions, it's wonderful to be intelligent; it's even better to be proud of who you are.


And stop making fun of me for watching the new Star Wars trailer seventeen times in a row. Palptine is kickin @$$*.

--Cbake

*Kudos to those of you who know who Palpatine is

And there shall be unto thee a plague of flies...

Demon Rat War Update #8

I must apologize to you loyal readers who have followed my exploits battling Demon Rat and his army in the bowels of my household. I do call it "mine" now, for my father moved out months ago and has left me in charge of defending this homestead. The fortunate (or unfortunate, depending on how you look at it) truth is that rat activity has practically ceased since my last update in which I released the POW Ratty back into the wild.

I gave him explicit instructions not to return. And, well... maybe he listened.

I haven't heard the dogs barking at night. I haven't heard the pitter-patter of tiny rat feet when I enter the basement. I haven't seen them climb into the crawlspace, nor have I found evidence of increased rat droppings in the area. And this puzzles me.

Back in January, we placed many packets of rat poison in key, strategic areas near their pathways, but they remained undisturbed after a few weeks. One packet that had been placed on the crawlspace ledge disappeared, but I chalked that up to the rats knocking it over as they crawled up and down the long, thin piece of wood to get to the ground. Their huge bulk had knocked the glue traps into the crawlspace before (or perhaps their abnormally high intelligence dragged them out of their paths...), so it was feasible they had done the same with the rat poison.

Well weeks go by, and still no word from the Enemy. I'm beginning to wonder if they migrated to some other house to take up residence. Or maybe there was infighting and mutiny, and they killed themselves in civil war. I find it hard to believe that the rats just dragged off one packet of rat poison, then each took turns chewing and ingesting it in some pseudo Rat-Heaven's Gate mass suicide attempt.

Then three weeks ago, the flies came. I didn't notice them at first, maybe there were one or two buzzing around the house. They were prominently in the kitchen, buzzing around windows, trying to get out, and often I'd slide a window open, but the stupid flies could never figure out the big gaping hole in the invisible force field was the way out.

Now, the door to the basement is in the kitchen, and when I opened that up, I immediately went into "Duck and Cover" mode. Five or six more flies hovered above the staircase, perched on the picture frames, clock, and assorted things hanging from hooks there at the top of the basement steps.

Note that these aren't normal flies, either. Just as these aren't normal rats taking up residence in my basement, these flies were abnormally, well, huge. They're like common house-flies that ate and ate, and just when you thought they'd stop, they kept eating until they looked like over-inflated balloons that were just on the verge of popping. Each fly was about the size of a penny; scary little buggers that dive-bombed my head with a loud, incessant BZZZZZZing.


I caught one and made him dance for me, the Spanish Flea.


Something similar happened a few months ago- large flies living in the top of the basement steps, escaping to the kitchen through the crack between the door and the floor. But it was never on a scale such as this.

One day I went down into the basement to feed the dogs, whose food and water bowls lie on the opposite side of the basement from where the rats reside. I decided to check the floor around that area for rat droppings, evidence they had been feeding on nuggets of delicious Dog Chow (disclaimer: Dog Chow really doesn't taste as good as they advertise*). I found a few rat presents lying about. Then I noticed more on the other side of the dog food bag.

Wait, these weren't little gifts left by Demon Rat and friends. They were dead, bloated flies. All over the floor. In one concentrated area. I started counting. One, two, three dead flies, four, five, six now lie...

All the way up to fify plus. Over fifty dead flies lying in this small patch of floor between the photo developer's sink, the bag of dog food, and a shelving unit. FIFTY! Can you picture it in your mind, this image of Fly Holocaust? It was like Fly Kosovo over there. Fifty dead, penny sized flies. Where the Hell did they all come from?

My mind struggled for answers. And then it hit me: Flies lay eggs in dead, rotting flesh. Follow along as my deductive reasoning decided that A. Demon Rat and his minions must have eaten rat poison, B. Demon Rat and family died, C. A fly laid its eggs in dead Demon Rat and company's bodies, D. The super-radioactive powers that made Demon Rat so big and smart were passed onto the maggots that feasted on his flesh, thus becoming abnormally large flies, to E. Rat poison was also passed onto the flies and thus they all died after a few days of adulthood.

Except I couldn't figure out why they all decided to die together in one place, just as a family should. Maybe they each took a sip of the spiked Kool-Aid together too.

My father came home and I showed him the Graveyard of Flies and told him my possible theory explaining their existence. Then he looked up and pointed to the window right above the Graveyard. And I smack my forehead.

Okay, so their deaths are explained. Their births are not. We can't smell any decaying carcasses, and still I wonder just how a fly got into the basement in the first place to get to the rats. For one thing, there just aren't that many entrances to the basement. For a fly to get in, he'd have to first come in with me when I enter the house, because we don't really have any flies inside anyway, then follow me into the basement when I go down. I guess it's feasible a fly would go under the door, but I mean really, I think I'm giving them too much credit for that one. Flies are too often looking for a way out, not a way in.

So where does this leave me? With a basement full of mysterious dead flies and still an unexplained absence of the Demon Rat Army. Maybe winter killed them. That evil winter, what a guy.

But spring is on our doorstep, and with that comes sunnier skies and warmer temperatures. But hopefully not a new army, refreshed and ready for battle. I just hope Demon Rat hasn't been hiding away, plotting, building up a force stronger than before.

Because come on, that's ridiculous.

--Cbake

*Second Disclaimer: I have never eaten Dog Chow. I have, however, tried certain doggy treats before, but that's a story for another time.

"A red sun rises, blood has been spilled this night. "

--The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers

That's right. BLUE blood. Tonight was the epic rematch between the Dook Blue Devils and the Carolina Tar Heels, and this time the Fates looked down upon us in Chapel Hill, smiled, and said "Silly us. Let's rectify the terrible mistakes of the past."

And thus, our fierce gladiators Raymond Felton, Sean May, Jawad Williams, Marvin Williams, Jackie Manuel, Melvin Scott, Reyshawn Terry, and David Noel pressed forward against our enemies, fought through the loss of fallen comrade Rashad McCants, and stunned the evil Devils by coming back from a nine point defecit and defeating the vile Dookies.

I shan't bore you non-sports types by telling you of the heroic feats performed by Sean May, achieving his 8th straight double-double and scoring 26 points with 24 rebounds tonight. Nor shall I tell you of how Dook's hero J.J. Redick, star 3-point shooter, was practically shut out in the second half by the Heel's powerful defense.

Instead, I will leave you with images of the celebration that ultimately follows every magnificent defeat of our most dreaded enemy. Fans flock to Franklin street in jubilation, building bonfires, dancing, drinking- making merry. Girls hop on shoulders, sometimes baring it all, while guys jump through fires, proving their mettle. It's something I only experienced once during my time at Carolina. There was no way I'd miss the insanity that comes with beating the team we hate most, so my friend and I drove up to the Hill this morning. Eight hours later, we left exhausted but excited, rejoicing in our tremendous victory.

By the way, this is also the first time UNC has been the ACC Regular Season champions since 1993. Oh yeah, we also won the NCAA National Championship that year. So marinate on that for awhile. And with the undefeated Illinois finally losing their first game today, this may mean the regular season ends with UNC as the number one team in the country. We'll find out tomorrow...


Franklin Street fills with students, most demanding free coffee (from Starbucks); others, boobs.


The bonfires begin as S.W.A.T. teams start firebombing the unruly crowd.


Carolina prefers their students extra crispy.


Me, the Wolfman, Cristina Michelli, and Nick Griffin- Class of 2004; Casey Hart- Class of 2003. You can't get rid of us!


--Cbake

*Pictures courtesy of Jerome Carpenter. Check out his webpage why don't you?

"Your ideas are intriguing and I wish to subscribe to your newsletter."

--Homer Simpson

Hey all,

Sorry it's been awhile since my last update. I've been pretty apathetic towards a lot of things this past week after my last job lead turned up nothing. I was feeling pretty defeated and wasn't sure where to go next. But a new lead has arisen and with that comes hope, and we all know "Hope is a good thing. Maybe the best of things."

So I'll start off my next round of regularly updated blog posts with a description of other blogs that I read. They might be funny, depressing, bland, or full of material I don't know much about, but I either know the authors of the blogs or find the writings to be very interesting. And therefore, you should too. And I've finally figured out how to add a "Links" section to my page, which you can now find on the side of the screen in the future.

Without further adieu... BLOGS I READ AND THUS YOU SHOULD TOO

"Like a Blindfolded Chimp With a Pencil in His Teeth"

The blog of David Sloan, a friend from UNC. Like me, he prefers to use quotes from movies and "The Simpsons" as titles for his posts. And like me, he can be quite funny in his writings, which range everywhere from gastro-intestinal problems, to road rage, to why Chris Baker looks like Eric Bana. Unlike me, this guy has a job. But don't hold that against him.

Comhra

A website by Trent Gilland, an old friend from high school. Don't ask me what Comhra means (I think it's Gaelic) ; go to his website and ask him. He started out as a fellow blogger, but upgraded to a web-page format, which allows him to create sub-pages for photographs, Album reviews, weird conversations he's seen, poems written by others, NCAA rankings, and other musings. One interesting note about Trent: He was the first real friend I made when I got to high school and didn't know anyone. Then I got to know him and realized he was a stubborn, close-minded, Ultra-Baptist conservative. But I didn't hold that against him (I even got his favorite University of Tennessee hat blessed by the Pope when I visited Rome my sr yr of high school). And now that he's been to college, he's come back a more open-minded and accepting person, more willing to criticize the government and its leaders than blindly follow them and their policies. Trust me, it's a HUGE change. Not that that matters at all in regards to his website. I just think it's extremely interesting.

Sports... and Other Stuff

Blog belonging to my former roommate of Old East dorm at UNC, Bobby Hundley. Mostly contains his musings on recent sporting events and stories, which more often than not I can't relate to, but he infuses his writings with comedic bits of gold even I can appreciate. If you knew Bobby or you know me, then check it out. And don't make fun of him for being fat.

Jerome Carpenter

Yes that's his name. No, I don't have a more interesting title for his page. But then neither does he, so go complain to him. This is the webpage belonging to my former RA at UNC, now a grad student, living the dream of eight years spent at Carolina. He rarely updates, but when he does, it's usually funny. And he has galleries of pictures he's taken around UNC and Raleigh which are worth checking out.

Paper Boats

I do not know this person, but she was the first random blogger to post a comment on my site. So I followed her comments all the way to her blog and... wow. Once I got there, I spent close to two hours catching up on all the writings she's posted. Her topics are depressing and sad, but her writing style is extremely impressive and perfectly captures the tone and mood of her many musings on life, past and present. It's the story of a young woman trying to find herself in the world today and at the same time raise a family as best she can. I know there's some people out there that can relate.

The World As Seen by a SaltParrot

A friend of mine on the West Coast who saw what kind of responses my blog was generating and decided he wanted to join the 21st Century Geekfest of online blogging too. Like me, he wants to be a filmmaker. Unlike me, he's actually in Hollywood, has a manager, and has written more than one feature-length script. He's a little bit closer to success than I am, geographically and metaphorically speaking, but he's also older- and that's the only reason why, I like to imagine. Also like me, he's addicted to the tv shows "24" and "Lost", but you won't find any of that content on his blog. So why did I bother to tell you? I don't know, to make his blog summary a little bit longer, sheesh, lay off me.

We're Listening!: The TOL Comment Card Odyssey

TOL stands for Top of Lenoir, Top of Lenoir being the main dining hall at UNC where my chums and I would spend long hours of sitting, people watching, crossword puzzling, and general lazying. This isn't an official blog by the dining hall, but one created by a UNC student who saw the ridiculous notes other students would post on Lenoir's Comment Card bulletin board. Anyone who's been there knows what kind of maniac comments are left by the dining hall's patrons. Even funnier are the responses those comments often receive from Lenoir's managerial staff. This blog lets you see the comedy unfold with pictures of the best comment cards Lenoir has to offer. I only wish the guy would update sometime this year.

Query Letters I Love

Oh God, I don't even know where to start with this one. Proof that most of America is retarded, perhaps? For those that don't know, query letters are unsolicited letters sent to Hollywood producers, directors, and actors that are written by Average Joe Sixpacks like you and me. Well, maybe you, not me. The letters are often filled with incredibly creative, hilarious, and insightful plot synopses and summaries of stories that would make terrific, Oscar-winning, Box Office blowing, films.

Homer: "In case you couldn't tell, I was being sarcastic."
Marge: "Well, DUH."

It's amazing what some people think will make a good movie. Scratch that, a good STORY. Honestly, some of the ideas proposed here sound like they sprung from the hyperactive mind of a 12 year old on crack. Do people really believe their ideas are that good? Are they giving us ideas for movies they themselves would happily plunk down eight dollars to see at the theater?

I read some query letters last summer during my internship in Hollywood. When we gave out mail, any unsolicited letters sent to Ridley Scott or Scott Free in general were to be thrown out, because more often than not they'd be query letters. One day I decided to open one up and read it, you know, to show some sort of respect for a fellow writer. Boy, I wish I hadn't. I think that fellow writer really WAS a 12 year old. The story was about a girl who wakes up with amnesia, bloody in the Canadian yukon. She stumbles up to a house and asks for help, not knowing who she is. The family there tells her they know her name, they know her family, and the next day they will take her to her home which is over the next ridge. Well, that night she notices strange behavior from the family: the young boy is timid, quiet, crazy. The dad is a heavy drinker. The mom ignores everything around her and just cleans the house, humming to herself. I don't really know what happens next because it was all lame and unbelievable and had a twist I saw coming from the very first paragraph. But the girl finds out the dad regularly hunts humans, kills visitors to his house, chops up the remains and keeps them in a freezer downstairs. And then it turns out that, *SHOCK!*, the girl is really a part of the family! She found out what her dad did, and when she disagreed with his actions she tried to run away, he tried to catch her, somehow she got knocked out, and he left her for dead in the wilderness.

So the story ends with some absurd chase through the woods, and the father gets stuck in his own bear-trap that he set for his daughter (that he stupidly leaps in to when his daughter moves to the side at the very last second) and freezes to death. Meanwhile, the young girl makes it to town, tells her story to the sheriff, who of course doesn't believe a word until he finds the remains of the father, and somehow there's a happy ending after all for her and her brother, despite the fact that both their parents are now dead. I think the sheriff decides to adopt them or some other cliched ending like that.

Trust me, it was bad. So bad, in fact, that I came very close to writing a response letter to the author, telling her to take some writing classes when she gets to college, pointing out that what she presented would make a terrible movie and is better suited for the short story medium. I thought something like that would set her on a better path in life. But I didn't. And I bet someday one of her letters will show up on this blog. So read it and rejoice in the stupidity of your fellow man.


--Cbake