The Real Pat Blair

After a nearly 5 month hiatus, I return. Thank you, loyal readers, for checking this site every day, as I know you have, in eager anticipation of a new post. Your 142 vigil has ended - you may now resume everyday life.
What was the cause of the lengthy pause? A number of things, including, but not limited to: new house, new job, lack of enthusiasm, my computer not remembering my password, me failing to adequately nag Matt to reset it, etc, etc. But that is not what’s important now; I am.
What, you might be asking (and if you’re not, you should be), is the catalyst for my triumphant return? Could it be the upcoming Iowa Caucasus? Will I share my wisdom and insight on who the next leader of this great country should be? Yeah, but that’s tomorrow. Today, a discovery so astounding that this blog, known for it’s integral role in the (mockery of the) scientific community, could not look the other direction. No, this landmark study will be commemorated, as so many others, here in these pages of the internet. To what am I referring?
Study Reveals Why Monkeys Shout During Sex
Because they like it? Because monkeys, as a rule, rarely whisper? Because they are mocking the humans that are ADMITTEDLY STUDYING this?

To see if yelling resulted from how vigorous the sex was, the scientists counted the number of pelvic thrusts males gave and timed when they happened…
Counting monkey pelvic thrusts is admittedly “quite weird, but it’s science,” researcher Dana Pfefferle, a behavioral scientist and primatologist at the German Primate Center, told LiveScience.

So you’re counting and timing the pelvic thrusts of monkeys, admitting that you are weird, then trying to brush it off in the name of science? Ladies and gentlemen: your tax dollars.
This is why I work in financial services.

Called Qwest today. Granted, should have done it sooner. The gentleman on the phone was very helpful, even when I had to get ahold of Heerema to find out what the last 4 digits of his Social Security Number were, in order to access my account. Matt started this account in August of 2002, and in May of 2003, we began the process of transferring it over to me. In the 2005 phone book, they finally got it moved to my name. I believe the process is finally over. Until next time.
Anyway, Qwest does all of their set-up remotely. This seems obvious to me, since the whole phone system is run with computers, and all one has to do to change the address where a number is assigned is flip a switch, or type some FORTRAN, or use a Linux, or something like that. What doesn’t seem obvious, however, is why it takes them 3 business days to complete a request. Seriously - is macro-ing a router that hard?
Anyway, there are two morals to this story:

1. Call in advance to change your phone service, moron.
2. You won’t be able to reach me by phone until Friday. Sorry ’bout that.

Whoever invented Reece’s Pieces should probably be given a Nobel Prize of some sort. I don’t care - invent a new category. Just see to it that this happens.

The same for whoever came up with the concept of deep fat frying.

Oh, and a special award to the person that decided to try frying a Snickers bar.

Matchbox Twenty’s first album: upon review, surprisingly good.

I like MSG. A lot. Or maybe it’s just Chinese food and potato chips.

One of the guys at work has a dad in microbiology, or something like that. They did a test where everyone in the lab kissed a petri dish, and then they swabbed various toilet bowls throughout the facility, putting the results on different petri dishes. The results? Well, let’s just say that, from a bacterial perspective, you’re MUCH better off kissing the inside of random toilets.
This is the stuff they should be teaching in middle-school.

Third Eye Blind’s first album: still really good.

Is it possible to have cravings for trans-fats?

Are you Jimmy Ray?

Interested in a small iPod? Check this out. I want one.

Alternately, you could get a new iPhone that will, over the course of the first year, with services and options, cost you up to $1,500. You make the call.
(Teehee).

Who wants to know?

I love the concept of Wal-Mart, and support the store fully, if for no other reasons than, a) I am a value shopper (read: cheap), and, b) I love watching the anguish and rising blood pressure of all the anti-Wal-Mart zealots. That said, what’s the deal with the WM and WT (white-trash)? Do they have a secret bat-signal or homing beacon of which the rest of us are unaware? I am fairly certain that you could put a WM on Rodeo Drive (assuming the death of the local zoning board and kidnapping of several key activists, or course) and, within minutes, the you would be surrounded by people who are ignoring their 14 screaming children between the ages of 0 and 6 because they are trying to decide if they should get the XXL or XXXL spandex pants to go with the vintage Beavis and Butthead midriff mesh t-shirt, the whole time leaving their cart parked in the middle of the non-aisle in order to prevent anyone from reaching their shopping destination or escaping the permeating odor of those who haven’t showered in recent decades.
Like I said, I’m all for the WM, but when I am trying to restore my faith in humanity, I find it’s best to steer clear.

LeBron James is tall, fast, and incredibly strong. He is a physically imposing presence on the basketball court who can seemingly take over a game at will. He can shoot well, make amazing passes, or, failing that, he will drive to the hoop and dunk on your head. Even while being fouled by three separate people, who also happen to be very large and very strong. LeBron James is dominating in basketball because of his unique physical gifts. Simply put, he is a freak of nature.
Fortunately, so am I! Though I may be shorter, slower, weaker, and more pale than LeBron James, I too am a freak of nature: I have a very broad chest and shoulders, and disproportionately long arms. I am a unique physical specimen. For a human. If you’re including gorillas, it’s a different story.
LeBron’s freakishness allows him to be an amazing basketball player. Mine allows me to not be able to purchase a dress-shirt that comes even close to fitting. See, men’s dress shirts are sized using two numbers. For example, a shirt sized 15 - 34 means that the collar is 15″ (in circumference) and the sleeve is 34″ (length from the middle of the back/shoulders to the wrist). How do I know this? Wikipedia!
In order to cut costs and make fewer sizes, most shirt makers combine sleeve lengths, for example, 15 - 32/33, or 16 - 34/35. If your arms are shorter, you can just button the sleeves in tighter so that the cuffs don’t hang over your hands. The problems with this are pretty obvious. Not only can the combined sleeve-lengths pose some issues, there are (at least) two measurements that are missing: waist size and torso size, or, as I like to call it, armpit inseam (I’m pretty sure that’s the technical term). A shoulder-to-shoulder measurement wouldn’t hurt either.
Here’s how it usually works for me. I have a 16.5″ neck, which is a pretty normal size - I generally see numbers ranging from 15″-18″ The biggest sleeves that most 16.5″ shirts have, though, is generally 34/35, which is a bit short to begin with. Then, magically, after a few wash/dry cycles, I have the worlds only 3/4 sleeve dress shirts. If, on the off chance, I can find a 16.5 - 36/37 shirt, it will be white - not striped, polka-dotted, or even blue, but just plain white - and the sleeves will fit perfectly. The shirt will also be long enough to wear as a nightgown.
This wouldn’t be a problem if they made low-crotch men’s dress pants, but since the don’t (at least not that I’ve found), I am forced to do some creative tucking so that it does not look like I am smuggling a half-deflated inner-tube in my khakis. This problem is exacerbated by the fact that people who wear shirts of this size apparently tend to tip the scales at right about 480 lbs. The neck and sleeves are perfect, but there is enough waist-space for two of me. This excess fabric is also impossible to tuck in, unless you are content to look like a sailboat. That is smuggling an inner-tube. And, even though the sleeves are the right length, the shoulders are still NEVER broad enough, meaning that I only have about 30% range of motion and the sleeves start mid-clavicle, which come to think of it, is probably why the dang things never fit in the first place!. Not that I’m frustrated or anything.
I have come up with a couple of possible solutions to this problem. First, I could just have my shirts custom-tailored. Then they would fit perfectly. I’m not sure how much this costs, but I am guessing it is significantly more than the $19.99/shirt that I am used to. The other option would be to find some kind soul who would happily alter, sew, wash, and iron my shirts out of the kindness of her… er, their hearts. This seems preferable, but, in the long run, would probably end up costing even more than a tailor.
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why I am just like LeBron James.

Re: Thank you for your application, we accepted your appication
Too bad, I have a job now. And my employers know how to spel.

So you asked for another email from Megan?
No, but I’ll always take emails from my sister. Although I didn’t know she’d changed her last name and started sending junk-mail.

Offer: Scotty Pippen Black Men’s Basketball Shoes
Who knew Nike was making race-specific shoes? Will I be a better baller with these? Maybe if I were a little bit taller.
Does Steve Nash have a shoe deal?

Bali. Tonight. 9pm.

(From moustachemay.com)

Today is Sunday. The Lone Strangers played at church, and I was supposed to be there at 7:30am. Yesterday I did Rock Sound stuff from 9am to 2pm. Then I did Bali sound from 2pm to 3am. 4 Strangers performances in 4 days (or 6 in the last 9, with a practice in there to boot). In the 4 days, I witnessed 27 different performances from 24 (I think) bands/artists - not including the 12 performances, plus one from Biz Markie, at Wednesday’s Cyclone Idol (I ran sound). After Cyclone Idol, I went to work at the Bali until 2:30am. Battle of the Bands and Bali on Thursday. Battle of the bands and Bali on Friday. And so on. All week long it has been like this. I am fried.
Lest it sound like I’m complaining… well, maybe I am. But don’t think for a second that I wouldn’t do this every day if it would pay the bills.
Today, though, I rest. And smile.

True statements that you never thought you’d hear:

-”Because of my commitment and involvement at church, I got to meet Biz Markie, performer of a top-10 single, and creator of the phrase, ‘Oh, Snap!’”
-”The Lone Strangers are one of my favorite local bands!!!”
-”Dude - Blair got a real job!”

Chinese Researchers Look to Use Panda Poop for Paper.

Researchers at a giant panda reserve in southern China are looking for paper mills to process their surplus of fiber-rich panda excrement into high quality paper…
They thought panda poop would produce an even finer quality paper (than elephant dung)…
The center’s 40 bamboo-fed pandas produce less than a ton of droppings a day, but Liao said he was not sure yet how much paper would result…
“People won’t find it gross at all,” Liao said. “They probably won’t even be able to tell it’s from panda poop.”

Ummm…. holy crap?

I believe that Michael Keaton is one of the greatest actors of our time (see: Johnny Dangerously, Beetle Juice, Batman, Multiplicity, and especially My Life), with some of the absolutely greatest eyebrows of our time, but will not be remembered as such because he clearly has one of the worst agents ever (see: turning down $35 million to be in Batman Forever due to a bad script, and then appearing in Jack Frost, First Daughter, Herbie Fully Loaded, etc.). I only hope that some day someone can right this great injustice.
Maybe if there was a way that a person could send messages from beyond… wait. That’s a TERRIBLE idea.