A Simple Question…

I know I said I wouldn’t kvetsh about things on this site, but sometimes you have to look in the face of reason and wonder why it grew that mustache. I have a pet peeve that infuriates me. It happens every so often when I go to a website to fill out information about myself and the question always arises…

What state do I live in?

Well, what a simple question that is. I can answer that in two letters, thanks to the United States Postal Service’s State Abbreviations ,

… There, all done.

However, somewhere along the evolutionary path of web design a ruddy pimple faced programmer decided that he could, not necessarily should, create a listing of all the states in the union, so no one would ever have to enter in another two letter abbreviation ever again.

The problem inherent in this system is this, It is a hell of a lot more of a pain in the ass to go rooting around a listing of states than to enter in two letters. Not to mention, that if you are filling out a form you can tab from one field to another and enter information, but once you get to a list all bets are off and you have to once again grab a hold of your mouse to root for your state. What makes the insult oh so much more of an insult is that once you’ve found your state you inevitably have to type you zip code directly after it.

This stupidity in function drives me crazy, because although it only takes 5 seconds to find my state, it takes 4 seconds longer than it used to. And if you add up all those lost 4 seconds worldwide, I could take Fridays off and no one would even mind.

It’s trickle-down people… trickle-down


Improving on Nature?

Is it a Bird? (yes)
Is it a Plane (well, not exactly)

Over the last few months, we at Fun Time Tree House, Inc., have been monitoring a cruel and dangerous eating activity that has it’s made its way up from the south to us northerners.


The basic gist of the turducken is this; you take a de-boned chicken and stick it into a de-boned duck, which is then inserted into a de-boned turkey. Between each layer of the carcass is stuffing (cajun and pork), which supplies you with additional pieces of more animals. The massacre is then inserted into an oven and cooked for 15 hours in hopes of killing the micro bacteria that have been uncovered.

And the Jews are afraid to eat pork?!

At the end of the stuffing and cooking ordeal, you are left with a mass grave of four distinct animals, which I wager had never seen each other in their past lives, let alone be packed inside one another. It’s a bioengineering orgy of flavor and texture that produces one hell of a main course.

Its America people, the land of invention and innovation. We are lucky enough to be around to see it.

Can you please pass the thighbrestwing?


Damn iPod!

For my 25th birthday, my parents decided that as a gift, they would give me an iPod. I’ve wanted one of the little chrome and white things for a while, but I hadn’t fully grasped the control the little thing would have over my life or how obsessive I would get over it.

20 GB of music (roughly 4,000 songs) is a lot of music. Way too much music, it may be said. 4,000 songs are hours of music. I will probably never get to enjoy hours of music for fear that If I listen to one album more than once, it will be a waste of money. If I listen to each track, in about 15 days, I will have listened to everything.

Fun times.

I’m slightly ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder), which roughly translates as having too many choices is my downfall. I’m also slightly OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) with a splash of TMD (Technology Meddling Disorder). The mix creates a superhuman with the attention span of Ruth Gordon and the technical prowess of my grandfather.

(Side Note: My grandfather wears two digital watches on both wrists because he watches two television programs daily. He, therefore, needs two alarms to alert him when his shows are on television.)

When is too much music just too much?

On my computer, I have 7588 songs (21 days, 1 hour, 11 minutes of music). I became compulsive with my friend Justin, another technical Meddler, to assemble the ultimate collection. Most of the albums I own and have encoded into my computer. I’m not a Napster user because of my OCD which makes me encode all my music at a certain bit rate (160 kbs) and with the same encoder (iTunes AAC 1.1 or higher). I am so obsessed that I hear imperfections in other people’s music that I’m not sure are there or not. I have actually gotten MP3s from friends and then bought the album to create my own MP3s. I actually buy more CDs now than I used to, so I guess I’m what the record companies love, a psychotic listener.

Not that I’m not extremely happy about owning the little bastard. I’m growing to love my little iPod and the freedom it brings. I hope I have enough time to listen to 4,000 songs and not get fired because of it.

Happy Holidays from Apple & Will Ferrell

-Not related at all to the above entry, we at Fun Time Tree House, Inc. would like to send congratulations to A Day Late and a Dollar Short on their wedding anniversary and for publishing some of the soppiest e-mails I have ever had the privilege to read. Funnily enough, I have the exact same e-mails from college. Funny how falling in love works.


On the Subject of Blogs

Who got carried away with his writing?
That would be me.

Web logs, or online diaries like this one, are a double-edged sword. On the one hand, they are sometimes interesting views into another person’s character; other times, they aren’t. Most of the time, it isn’t what the person writes but how they write it, but they begin to blur the line between interesting thought and contrived thought that’s had for the sake of an interesting anecdote.

Do I need a book to write this stuff?

I will set forth a foundation for this blog—a manifesto, if you will, of the things I want to accomplish with it. Not a grandiose manifesto, mind you, just things to keep in mind as I continue to write.

First off, blogs I like, Dooce. She has a certain spark of creativity and energy that seems to bring people to her. She is honest and keeps her stories to the point. They are plain and simple but have her presence. You know she is a person who has a real life with real emotions. It isn’t about grandiose stories, but rather finding the grandiose in the commonplace Ok, I got to watch that “new age” shit.

Um- Little Yellow Different is very funny. Plus, he’s gay, so you know he’ll have a different take than my boring straight thoughts.

Second- Attitude. I like sites with a good positive attitude. I’m not one for depressing weblogs. Who wants to log onto a nebbish’s site where they only complain about things? Who would come back? Nobody… Except for Jews, or people raised by Jews from a very young age (I’ll explain later).

While I want to be honest, I also want to keep things positive (and interesting).

Third- design Well, I think I have that mostly covered. I’m pleased with the design of the site. I’ll keep it.

Fourth- Updates. This is a hard one to keep going. So many weblogs start off strong but peter off after the second week. I guess it’s the nature of the beast. Other things are bound to spring up in my life that will push the blog out of the way. It’s inevitable. I will try to keep myself motivated to write in it almost every day if possible… Once a week, I promise… but certainly no less than once a month I will write something.

Fifth- Humor. This is an important one. I mean, who could forget’s tirade about farts?

But there, there in Monroe, Washington, perhaps all over the Pacific Northwest, I guess it’s okay to laugh at someone’s bellowing, yodeling fart in a public restroom, because right after she let that stuttering bomb rip, a woman in the stall next to mine started laughing uncontrollably. And I’m not talking about a gentle, muffled laugh, or a laugh that could possibly pass for cough. The woman in the stall next to mine was belly laughing, cackling like a crazed hyena, heehawing at the other woman’s fart. -Dooce

Humor keeps people coming back. I want to keep people coming back. I want people to like me. I’m as insecure as the next person, so I’ll change if you don’t like me. I’m pretty good on that one as well. At least in real life, I make most people laugh. If I could put that over into the written word, dare I say it, I would be unstoppable.

I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed now and enjoy these newfound ideals that I will forget by tomorrow.



Gobble Gobble

Yes, it’s Thanksgiving again. It’s time to spend time with the family again, overindulge in food, and pray to god it all goes quickly this year without your mother asking why you’re not married yet. (This is a recent development for me, but if you’re Jewish, you’ve probably heard it since you were five.) I love this holiday because it is just the right mixture of commercialism and genuine American patriotism that make it a holiday almost anybody, who doesn’t deeply hate America, can latch onto. It, in my mind, is the perfect American holiday.

What better represents America than overindulgence and overeating?

The actual holiday is, of course, a horrible one. Over the years has been Disinyfied by a morally bankrupt culture that believes that the more “bad” things we sweep under the carpet, the healthier our society will be. Strangely enough, the more historically homogenized we make our country, the more terrible it seems to become. The settlers landed in America hungry and unprepared for the new world, and the Native American population showed us the uses of corn and the abundance of the land. This is why we celebrate Thanksgiving. We seem to have forgotten that after the Native Americans showed us their hospitality, we basically murdered them all or infected them with our European viruses and then stole their land. Classic white boy fun times.

“for some native Americans, Thanksgiving Day is called and treated as ‘Day of Mourning’ because it is a celebration”link

The basic premise of the current holiday, however, is a wonderful one, which despite attempts to over-commercialize it, is still about spending time with loved ones. This sentiment is still refreshing from its roots 509 years ago.

It is a holiday unmarred by religious imagery or politics. Except if your ancestors were Native American, then you can sit in your room and wish terrible things on all of us white-bred, overindulgent Caucasians and our influenza. For the rest of us, let’s eat some turkey, drink some beers, and enjoy the unrealistically constructed version of our families and country.


Happy Birthday to Me

Today is the day. My Birthday. Happy fun times. My birthday has not been the most spectacular of celebrated events, but to tell the truth, I have not been diligent about it’s celebration. Really, I could care less, although turning 25 is big, really big, or so it seems. It’s just that a self-important celebration isn’t my thing. Why make a fuss over little old me?

When I turned 24, I was cynical about the whole thing. 24 was still a young number in my mind. I thought all that age-turning crap was just an excuse for Hallmark to sell shitty cards. That part is true: Hallmark sells shitty cards, but the cynicism was based entirely on my fear of growing up and losing my youth. Well, my youth and my hair. So, in a bizarre twist of fate, I spent my 24th birthday alone in a bar because all of my friends were busy, and it was so close to Thanksgiving.

(On a later note: I just received a very cute Hallmark e-card from my girlfriend, which wasn’t shitty and was quite endearing.)

The fact of the matter is being scared of getting older is fruitless. You will get older, and there is nothing you can do about it. I cannot re-live the past or live in the past. I must look ahead and be happy that I have what I have right now and rejoice in my life rather than complain about it. I don’t have any choice in the matter.

As one of my favorite musicians, Krishna Das said recently during a performance, “You can either be happy in your life, or you can learn to be happy in your life. It is your choice. You only get one life to live, so you better start enjoying it.” This had a profound effect on my life. So many people complain about this and that and never get around to enjoy what they have.

So, I decided as a new leaf to turn, to try to enjoy life… and try to remember it this time.