Twilight

Saturday Mandy threw a Twilight party at our house with all of her sisters. They all showed up. I had to discontinue a perfectly manly procedure of installing a transmission to go see what all the swooning was about Edward.

Fortunately my brother-in-law was there for moral support as we watched the movie. He had a shirt made for me That says "H.A.T." on the front. Under that it says "Husbands against Twilight" As founder of the HAT club he established some ground rules before starting the movie such as: No singing along to songs. No saying lines along with the actors. No saying "This is my favorit part!". No anouncing to everyone what is coming up next. There were multiple warnings, infractions and requests to leave the room, yet the ground rules went completely unheeded.

I didn't mind the disruptions much other than it interrupted my complete befuddlement of the female persuasion. I have started to write a book and I initially considered tossing in a slight romantic side story to it. Mandy talked me out of it. Probably because she knew I don't have a clue what women think is romantic.

I had been hearing how gorgeous Edward is. I had heard him described as "Hot", "Cute", "sexy" and well, I don't know how to describe what my sister-in-law Katie thinks of him. Needless to say, I was not mentally prepared to witness her roll her eyes back in her head as she thrust several hip bounces around upon seeing Edward. It was these reactions that made me want to observe the character of Edward to see what it was that made these women go crazy.

The first time we see Edward in the show, his reaction to seeing Bella is to cover his mouth and look at her as if he is about to hurl, then dismiss himself and we see him trying to check himself out of the class where he has to sit by Bella. A few days go by and Edward doesn't show up for class. When he does show up he does nothing but stare at Bella like he is resisting the urge to not pop a giant zit on her nose. Then he scoots a microscope to her with the back of his hand like she might suddenly reach out and infect him with cooties. When he does talk to her he scowls and talks slowly like he might be holding back some gas. Finally we see Bella awake at night and she catches a glimpse of him standing at the foot of her bed staring at her.

In high school I was terrified of girls. They reacted to me by "pretending" to be repulsed by me. Silly me, I always assumed that by showing signs of becoming physically ill by the sight of a girl, and then sneaking into her room and watching her sleep always seemed a bit, socially unacceptable, awkward, strange, illegal and would probably end in some sort of restraining order. How was I to know that girls would appreciate this attention?

Thankfully I have been taken off the market almost 10 years ago when I married my sweet, darling wife Mandy. I don't have to worry about the bizarre subtleties of swooning a partner. However, I realize just because I am married it does not mean I stop courting my wife. So I tried these techniques on Mandy. During the movie I looked over at her and pretended to gag in my mouth, then I spent a good 2 or 3 minutes just staring at her like there was a huge pimple on her cheek. She took a few nervous glances at me, laughed nervously and finally told me to stop it. I replied slowly with a scowl like I was holding back the gastric gaseous emissions of a 1 lb. can of chili. She didn't seem to appreciate it. I don't get it. I have come to grips with the fact that I will never make a woman do hip gyrations. I think I am OK with that. REALLY OK with that. I think I get it that women are crazy. They have to be. Or else there is no way on this earth that they could look at a stinky, hairy, sweaty, guy and think "I'd like to kiss that!" I also will stay out of the romantic writing genre, because I will obviously get it wrong. Horribly, disfiguringly wrong.

Pyro

I posted this story elsewhere and thought I would share it with you. I had originally stated that I had lost my eyelashes three times. Upon reflection, I have only lost my eyelashes twice, but lost hair on my head many more times.

In my defense I come by this tendency naturally. My own father has lost his eyelashes at least as many times. I was just imitating actions I have seen demonstrated for me. When I was very young my dad went hunting. He came home with a deer which he butchered at home in the garage on a long fold up table. the byproducts of butchering produces an entire garbage can full of scraps, bones and hide all of which maggots love to feed on. To his dismay, the garbage man refused to take a garbage can full of rotten carcass. He saw no solution other than purging the ecosystem by fire. He poured the bulk of the contents of a gas can into the garbage can, followed by a lit match which he quickly chased with the garbage can lid. Now, if you think about it, gas is really intended to be combusted, which creates compression, the energy of this compression is harnessed through a moving piston and transferred into the crankshaft which compels your car to move forward. It thrives in compressed environments.

My dad didn't thoroughly think this through as evidenced by his complete alarm when the garbage can lid disappeared from the top of the garbage can and proceeded in a trajectory several hundred feet in the air followed by a volcanic eruption of cinging, Hell derived, scorching flames, licking out in all directions like a thousand molten snakes. As an occupant of the garbage can lid launch pad and blast zone he was engulfed in the explosion which left him mostly unharmed with the exception of snatching away any exposed hair, a few micromilimeters of skin and any pride he might have had at the moment. as the fire died out and the smoke wafted a way, the lid came crashing down next to him signaling the completion of the performance. This is the example I was raised on. This is the genetic pool I derive from.

The first time I lost my eyelashes was in a strikingly similar experience. My parents were on vacation and I was left home alone. Being bored I started conducting science experiments. Being 10 years old, my scientific inquiry centered around fire. I began my experiments by trying to ignite small amounts of various liquids that I thought might be flammable. things like spray paint, rubbing alcohol, and brake fluid. I found a can of "Deep Woods Off" insect repellent. The can brandished a strong warning about the dangers of exposing it to flame. Since Danger and flame were what I was testing, I sprayed some in the garbage can, leaned over the garbage can and dropped my match in.

I don't know what would happen if someone were to stand behind a jet engine when the afterburners are turned on, but I know it wouldn't be pretty and I am pretty sure I have a good idea what it would look like to the person standing behind the engine.

Flames shot straight up out of the garbage can in a column and transformed all of the hair on my head into tiny little, stinky nubs. The first thing that crossed my mind was "My mom is going to kill me!" Your first instinct is ALWAYS accurate.

The second time was just after I had replaced the transmission in my car. In process of removing my transmission, I had removed the distributor from my car. Whenever you remove your distributor, the timing gets thrown off and you have to find the "sweet spot". somewhere between top dead center and 6 degrees after TDC to get the car to start. After it starts then you can use a timing light to hone it in. The best way to find that spot is to slowly twist the distributor, while someone cranks the engine. listening to the engine sputter you can get a pretty good idea of how close or far you are. Kinda like play "hot or cold" with your engine timing. Once you get it close enough, the engine should start and then you are home free.

I assigned a friend of mine to sit in the driver's seat and do the cranking while I did the distributor twisting. In process of doing this I evidently found the point somewhere before TDC. the point where the spark plugs are firing at the exact moment the intake valves are opening igniting the fuel as it entered the chamber and also all of the fuel in the intake. As discussed before, when gas burns, it expands. This time being no exception. It expanded straight up and back out the carburetor. the flame that belched out of the carb curled up and shot along the underside of the hood. My head just happened to be resting against that same underside of the hood as I extended out trying to reach the distributor. Hearing the pop and seeing a giant fireball, my friend jumped out of the car and said "Sterling! Are you OK?" but as soon as he saw me he started laughing "Your... Ha! Ha! Your hair!... Ha! Ha! It's gone! Ha! Ha!... Your hair is ALL gone!!!! Ha! Ha!" Fire does not make a good hair dresser and hair can sometimes take a long time to grow.

Vegas the conclusion

I know... I know, you have all been waiting for the exciting conclusion to Vegas. So, we had walked past the bunny and saw more of Pete Rose and our feet. Off we headed down to see the rest of the shopping area. We stopped at FAO Schwarz (the big toy story featured in Big) and yes... they did have a giant piano that everyone gathered around as if waiting for Tom Hanks to come out of nowhere and start playing Chop sticks on. I am sure for the right price Pete Rose would have.

Then we headed down to the end of the shopping center where there is an animatronic show depicting the fall of Atlantis. The Vegas.com website states it best when it describes:

The story unfolds as King Atlas tries to determine which of his children will rule Atlantis. The siblings try to destroy each another, poisoning the kingdom with their greed. Finally, the gods decide to step in and settle the dispute, launching the Fall of Atlantis. A 20-foot winged beast appears from behind Atlas' throne and watches over the destruction as Atlantis is consumed by fire and then flooding water.

During the show I looked at Mandy and laughed. It was embarrassingly shoddy. The first thing I noticed was that the sound system was so echoey all I could hear was "Warwa wa wa wa woo way weh..." I thought Charlie Brown's parents were actually narrating. The next thing that stuck out to me, was the herky jerky motions of the robots... excuse me, animatronics. They were so erratic and abrupt they made C3PO look like a smooth moving Rico Suave. I also noted that King Atlantis' mouth was broken and did not move. From what I could gather from the herky jerky gestures and the "wer wa wa woo wa" was that this king had two kids and they were fighting over the city of Atlantis. One of the children had control over water or maybe ice... possibly both and she was threatening to make sure all of her brother's TV dinners were always frozen and never warm in the center and the son had power over fire and had a sword of fire that he frequently waved around and I think he threatened his sister that her popcorn would always be either unpopped or burnt to tiny puffs of charcoal. Their father... perhaps the king listened to them a while and finally grew irritated and yelled "That's it! I've had it up to my crown with this squabbling! I am sinking this place and retiring in Fort Lauderdale!" and so he sunk it and bought a nice condo with the insurance settlement. For some reason there was a giant pterodactyl behind him. For his sake, I hope it wasn't his wife, because the communication barrier in that relationship would be a monster. As King Atlantis I am sure he was always "War wa wa woo way wooweh!" and she was always "Screeeeeecchhhhh! Crrrrrrraaaaaaaawwwwwwww!"

The other hokey part about the "animatronic marvel" was that the robot for the guy with the sword of fire... his hair/wig thing was all cinged. It sort of set the cherry on top of the whole ball of cheesiness. I seriously think the animatronic show at Chuck E cheeses is better coordinated. But, as one of my friends reminded me... It's free!

After seeing the animatronic marvel we were growing weary from not eating in the past 30-45 minutes... so we all lethargically staggered down the strip and put our famished selves in line for one Hell of a good buffet at the Paris. (After a short jaunt over to the venetian) More on that after this little tangent. Vegas is a strange place for many reasons one of which... the people standing on the strip shoving, snapping, waving cards in your face for call girls, or whatever they are. I found that by completely ignoring them, they pretty much left you alone. Vegas is a strange place because they allow this to go on all of the time. Now here me out on this. I am sure the litter problem from these people is a huge problem. Maybe Vegas doesn't care OK fine. But, I have thought about taking my family to the mirage and eating at the Carnegie Deli, but I am sure I am not alone in being very apprehensive in exposing my children to that, because I am sure one of them will try to pick one up, I will have to stop them and then comes the questions I don't really want to answer "Why is that lady naked? Why are they passing out cards? What are they for? Who is Pete Rose?" and so I probably won't take my family to Vegas which is a loss of revenue for them. So, maybe Vegas isn't Disneyland and maybe it isn't a place to take a family anyway. But I thought about the opposite end of the spectrum. I wondered what would happen if there was a preacher standing with them snapping pamphlets and handing out tracts. I can only imagine the public outcry and the huffing and puffing that would occur around such an event. Not that I want to see either one of them standing out there passing me literature. It just solidified the concept of how surrealistic Vegas is.

Back down to the Paris Casino we went to Le village buffet. The buffet has different themed stations. I think there were five in all. dessert station with creme brullee (I am sure I will slaughter most of these spellings) tiramasu, pecan cookies, cheesecake, pecan pie, peach pie, flan, and chocolate chip cookies. the salad bar had salads, crab legs, several types of cheeses I had never tried before, rolls and breads. The grill station had chicken, beef, lamb, grilled mushrooms and even grilled egg plant. There was a crepe station where each crepe was made to order and they had salmon that was great some pesto pasta steamed mussels and soups and prime rib and shrimp that I was too full to even try. The atmosphere was set up like you were sitting in the streets of an old town Parisian village. I kept expecting someone to step out on one of the faux balconies and start dusting a rug. My pants now fit a bit more snug thanks to that place.

That night a few of us went back down to the casinos on Fremont street, watched the light display and lost our money. Leaving we found we had parked in a parking lot that was only validated by a bar. My niece strolled into the bar, told them a bald faced lie that she had eaten there and forgot to have her parking validated and then we went home. In single night Vegas turned us into a pack of gambling, over indulging, lying, cheating, bar going sinners. Oh let's be honest... Vegas didn't turn us into what we already were.

Sunday we lounged around on the red couch like frumpy royalty who get fanned by servants with palm fronds while being hand fed plump grapes. As my mind threaded in and out of consciousness I dreamt of Elvis wielding a fire sword who used it to grill us up some more pastrami sandwiches. I awoke and found my leftovers from Carnegie and cherished each succulent bite knowing that it could be a while before the Carnegie and I crossed paths. Not that I was planning on not coming back, I am simply a realist and understand that life picks up steam and pretty soon you are going clickity clack down the rails of life while the things that you enjoy go whizzing on by in flashes of brilliant color, barely distinguishable from the scenery, the smoke and the cinders lofting down around the fading objects behind.

Monday we made our final hurrah by enjoying $1.99 breakfast at Binions again (sorry, no one dressed in white jumpsuits just a guy that looked just like Dick Cheney eating alone at a table behind us) and then we were off to the airport and our Vegas vacation over, out of surreality and into reality.

Vegas Part II

In the Mirage there is a beautiful place to eat. It definitely ranks on one of the top 10 things you should do before you die... and it just might kill you.

The Carnegie Deli. There are only two locations. New York and Las Vegas. (Don't ask me why it isn't at the New York Casino)

The food is enough to feed two people with large appetites like mine for two days. I ordered a "Jeff's Tatalah" for Mandy and myself. Before they brought out our food they brought out a plate of pickles. There were two types of pickles. One had a light, natural flavor with a hint of onion. The other type was sharp and had a zip to it and tasted strongly of garlic. I like garlic, and therefore liked both pickles. Someone who is not a garlic fan could easily not care for one of the pickles.

Then they brought out our food. HUGE! Enormous mounds of food of all delicious varieties. My food was a layer of seasoned potato mash covered in a layer of peppered turkey and then covered with a thick layer of pastrami, which had swiss cheese melted on top. On the side was a creamy Russian dressing to drizzle over everything. I expected every bite to just taste like pastrami. I anticipated growing weary of pastrami flavor and then becoming fatigued of my meal. However I found that each stab of the fork resulted in a new variety of ingredients in assorted quantities that made each bite new and wonderfully flavored in a completely unique way from the previous bite. By the end I finally leaned back in my chair, my tongue felt betrayed by my stomach's lack of room. It was sooooo good! It was delicious and I loved it.

Back at the Elvis ranch we prepared for the next day. After some sleep we awoke and Kimball and Cheryl made a crepe buffet and then we were off to Ceaser's Palace to walk around the shopping area. Most of the shops were not really my type of shops. For the most part, they were upper end stores with names that I doubt I could pronounce properly, let alone finance a purchase from. Some of them advertised great deals such as 3 shirts for $299... and no they did not leave a period out there. Call me naive, but I don't see much difference from a hundred dollar shirt to a $30 shirt.

We passed a sports novelty store that had Pete Rose inside signing autographs. Across from that store was the Playboy store. The Playboy store had a Playboy bunny in the store signing autographs and posing for pictures with customers. I saw the store and the bunny, but I was embarrassed and I quickly looked away. Mandy saw the store and the bunny also. For reasons and motives I have yet to determine she began to say "Ooh look, the Playboy store Honey! Look! There is a Playboy bunny in there! Isn't she cute? Do you want to go and see?" I responded "Oh yeah! Uh, I mean... what? I don't... what are you talking about? I don't know! Whoa! Look!... Pete Rose!" I don't know if she was having fun watching me blush, if she was testing me, if she was teasing me or using reverse psychology on me. But let's just say I reacted in a totally non-heterosexual Male way. I walked away with a quick glance at a Playboy bunny and a really good look at Pete Rose and the ground in front of me. Mandy truly is mentally superior to me. This is proof.

Then we walked down to the strangest thing I have ever seen in my life. Join me tomorrow for the exciting conclusion to the Vegas trip.

Vegas Vacation

I have been so disgustingly tired recently as evidenced by my lack of activity in the land of blogger.

Tonight is no different other than I came home and fell asleep on the couch. A few hours later I staggered into the bedroom and fell asleep on the bed... on the wrong side, still dressed in work clothes.

I woke up several hours later when Mandy came to bed. Now I am awake and can't sleep. Tomorrow's gonna be fun!

Have I mentioned I am a night owl? I think my condition is chronic when I am plowing through my third day in a row on 5 or less hours of sleep and I can't go to sleep until 11:00 PM, as was my situation several times in the past month.

Mornings hit me like a mafia thug trying to wax me with an aluminum baseball bat. They literally hurt.

I did get some recharging last weekend in the form of a vacation. Vegas.

My brother rented a house in Vegas for a getaway vacation for the siblings in the family.

We flew down on Thursday after work. I didn't think it would happen, but we pulled it off. We were flying standby and the flight was full. Thursday I checked the status of the flight and found out the plane we were taking to Vegas was delayed three hours coming out of Newark, NJ.

We showed up at the airport and I fully expected to wait in the airport three or four hours and then be told we couldn't be put on the flight. But, the ticket agent told me they were pulling a spare plane and scrambling a crew for the flight. (thank goodness for the economic slowdown and as a result, Delta sitting on a few spare aircraft)

After a short wait in the terminal we were cleared and assigned seats. We were even given exit row seats with the extra leg room. We were in an older Boeing 737, but the interior had recently been revamped. I had not yet flown in a plane that had a screen in front of every passenger. I found my screen extremely entertaining. They had music stations to listen to. Entire CD's to listen to. Cable TV to watch and games that had you compete with other passengers on the plane. One was a movie trivia game and it showed you the seat location of the other passengers playing. I also liked the map you could display that showed where the flight was originating, where it was going to and a yellow line showing the flight path and a giant icon of the plane showing where the plane was at on it's course. It would also tell current location, elevation, speed, and tail wind speeds. When I go on long trips I am hoping I get a plane with these monitors. It made the already short flight even faster.

Once we arrived and got there and figured out how to get out of the airport Via the shuttle tram, my brother picked us up and took us to the house he had rented. It was awesome in a funky sort of way. It looked like it had been plucked out of the 60's, packed in moth balls and preserved until a year ago and then updated with wifi and flat screen tv's in every room. Even the couch was a red velvet couch with white piping around the edges. I expected to see Austin Powers perched in one corner, smile at us and say "Grrr! baby GRRR!"

The bedroom we stayed in had two king size beds, a two person jacuzzi tub, a shower, a toilet and a sink. There were three little walls that divided all of that up. but the tub was completely open to where the beds were and you could see through to the sink and the toilet from the beds. From the toilet, the shower was directly in front of you and the shower was open to the tub. So that from either three of those stations you were completely visible and within reach of the other two. Very convenient, but not so much private.

There were a few shear curtains that could be drawn to block the view of the bathroom facilities to the beds, but the house was definitely built in the era of free love. We just learned that if you needed to use the bathroom or shower, you had to lock the door to the bedroom. I liked the house and felt it helped me connect with the old style Vegas. Like Elvis might stroll in at any moment with gold rimmed sunglasses and a white, rhinestone adorned jumpsuit and announce "I'm da kang bay-ba! Now how's bout you fix meh a peanut butter naner sam-wich... ah'm starved!"

Speaking of food and tha kang... we did eat like kings. Friday morning we went to Binion's casino. They offer a $1.99 pancake breakfast or a $3.99 steak and egg breakfast. You can't find them on the menu, but the wait staff all know what you are talking about when you order the pancake or steak and egg breakfast. I ordered the steak and egg and Mandy ordered the pancake and we split them. Filled us both up. For $3.99 I was expecting a boiled shoe tongue. The steak actually ranked somewhere up on the top 50 best steaks I have had. I was pleasantly surprised.

Friday we skipped lunch and when my brother Shawn, his wife Nicole, My sister Heidi, her husband Terrell, My niece Larisa and my Sister-in-law Cheryl showed up we headed straight to The Mirage. We followed Shawn's logic that if we ate here first we wouldn't need any more food the rest of the weekend. The Mirage has a place to eat that is... wow! I don't know where to start to describe it. It is epic, it is delicious, it is monumental, it is historic and it is life changing. But, That will have to be more for tomorrow's post as I really, REALLY need to go to bed. Tune in tomorrow for the exciting conclusion to the Vegas Vacation!

Gratitude

There are times in life when you need something and you don't have it. Things you take for granted. Things you didn't pay particularly close attention to until you have felt the jolt of anxiety when they were not there. These moments make you prioritize your life and put value on things that you otherwise would not think about.

This was my experience twice this week. Once when I was sitting on the can, reaching to my left and finding an empty roll of toilet paper. The second time, moments later stepping out of the shower and noting that there were no towels.

Super!

There is a setting on our washing machine labeled "Super Wash". Now, I have no idea any more than dirty pig what that means, but I always make a point when I put in a load of wash to make sure that button is pushed. When you consider the alternative to super wash which is just a plain old regular wash, the choice is an easy one.

I was talking to a friend who was telling me that she went to Olive Garden and the waiter asked if she wanted a super salad. She had no idea what a super salad was, other than the fact that it was super. Given the choice of super salad opposed to... no salad, she opted for the super salad she proudly responded "Yes!" The waiter stopped taking orders and stared at her and said again "super salad?" Unsure of herself based on his reply she said again with less enthusiasm "Y-yes?" He looked at her and said it slowly this time "Soup OR salad?" As the mirage of a super salad faded away in her mind she slowly answered "salad"

I don't know what makes a super Wal-Mart more super than a regular Wal-Mart.

What makes the Super Bowl more super than just the bowl game.

What makes Super Mario Brothers Better than regular Mario Brothers.

Given the choice I would rather have Superman defending my city rather than Man defending my city.

For reasons unexplained we seem to be drawn to this ubiquitous adjective like bird poop to a freshly detailed car.

If you will excuse me, I am off to make a super salad.