Things I never did while studying for the spelling bee

I watched part of the National Spelling Bee this morning, and I was amazed at what these kids do to prepare for the rigors of competition. All I ever did was have my mom quiz me with practice words from the spelling bee handbook. With that work ethic, no wonder I never made it to DC. Josephine Kao, one of the favorites until she spelled out in the fifth round, memorized chemicals on the toothpaste tube:

She said she fixes words in her mind as she goes through her day, even memorizing the spellings of the chemicals on her tube of toothpaste. "I think I'll probably still study a bit," she said afterward. "Otherwise, I wouldn't know what to do."

Josephine, you'll be fine. Six months from now you'll have a new academic obsession at which you will excel, and you'll forget all about spelling.

And now, Keyboard Gato

Of course, Keyboard Cat has a non-union Mexican equivalent. Senor Speilbergo never had to worry about his American counterpart showing up on set to disparage his directing abilities, though.

The real story of Keyboard Cat

I'm as taken with the sudden rise of Keyboard Cat as everyone else. So I was surprised to learn that his name is Fatso and he's been around for years. As proof, I submit this enlightening video.

It's early, but I think we can get Keyboard Cat to play organ for NYRO's 2010-11 season.

In-flight Wi-Fi? What about in-train Wi-Fi?

AirTran is in the process of rolling out WiFi to all of its planes by the middle of the summer. Some carriers offer Wi-Fi on some of their flights but not all of them, so AirTran will be the first carrier to offer it on all flights all the time. Delta had the Gogo in-flight Wi-Fi system on the flights I took to and from New Orleans last month, but I didn't pay for the privilege. I had brought enough in-flight entertainment options with me, and when I did get out my laptop for a few minutes on the flight home, I barely had enough room to use it. I tried writing the outline for a blog entry about the trip but I couldn't see the screen and type at the same time. I wasn't prepared to pay $8-$10 for mobile Internet when I couldn't read anything. I might give the Internet a shot on a future flight, but with the airlines charging me $15 to check a bag, I feel like they're already getting enough of my money.

However, I would be more interested in Wi-Fi access on Amtrak. I take the train to and from DC several times a year, and to Johnstown for Christmas. The three-hour trip to DC isn't so bad, but I start to get crazy on the seven-hour haul to Johnstown. The ticket for that trip is so cheap that I would gladly pay $10 or $12 for Internet access, even spotty, all the way to Johnstown. It's not that I need to be online that whole time; obviously, I've survived this long and many other trips without it. But it would be a great way to pass the time, in addition to the books and movies I already bring with me. Amtrak has tried onboard Wi-Fi before but I haven't seen or heard about anything on their trains in a few years. I'm sure there are significant technical hurdles. Any Internet access system would have to utilize the cellular network , and on a fast-moving train, you have the same problems as you have in the air: multiple clients being handed off to cell towers at high speeds. But it's 2009 and we're all well-connected travelers. Amtrak, let's get this done already. If the buses to Boston and DC can do it, I'm sure you can too.

I know Times Square has become an amusement park, but this is ridiculous

The Navy was prepared to let a veteran pilot fly a P-3 Orion reconnaissance plane down the Hudson River as part of a retirement gift. The flight got canceled at the last minute so no harm done. Whatever happened to a gold watch and a sheet cake?

Alan Gilbert has a bright future with the New York Philharmonic

I have been fortunate to attend two weeks of NY Philharmonic concerts led by their incoming music director, Alan Gilbert. I saw him conduct the Philharmonic's concert in Prospect Park last summer, but I was sitting far from the stage and couldn't make out much beyond his white jacket at the podium. These two concerts in May were my chance to see him up close.

On Friday, May 1, I heard them perform works by Dvorak, Martinu and Saint-Saens, including the latter's Violin Concerto with Joshua Bell as the soloist. Bell's performance was phenomenal, and I enjoyed Gilbert's work at the podium as well. He has an expressive and fluid style and he appeared to have a clear command of the orchestra. But these were three works with which I was not familiar, so I was excited to see him conduct this week's program, which included Mahler's Symphony No. 1. I got tickets for this week's concert via a ticket voucher. Normally I wouldn't think of going to concerts two weeks in a row (even I have limits for how much music I can take), but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to hear the orchestra play Mahler, and under the baton of a new conductor. Three years ago I heard the Philharmonic play Mahler's 1st Symphony with Lorin Maazel conducting. While I remember that concert as being an excellent performance, I think I may have been more enthralled by the music than I was the musicians. I know Mahler's 1st extremely well, and even more so having just played it with NYRO in December. Last night was my first chance to hear it performed since that December concert.

New Yorkers need have no fears about Gilbert's ability to lead the Philharmonic. When the orchestra reached the first "explosion" of the brass and percussion in the first movement, I had chills. It was partly for the music, of course. Mahler affects me that way. But it was also from the thrill of seeing an energetic young conductor leading an orchestra that was clearly his own. I broke into a big smile and I hung on every note of the rest of the piece. I especially enjoyed the balance Gilbert achieved among all the parts. Every note in Mahler's music is important, and I thought that Gilbert did an outstanding job of insuring that every instrument came out with its part. When the Philharmonic reached the climax of the last movement I was practically giddy. The audience flew out of their seats at the end in rapturous applause, and Gilbert seemed genuinely humbled by the reception.

Gilbert has hit the jackpot. He's a native New Yorker whose parents were violinists in the Philharmonic (and his mother still is). He's in his early 40s and he's got the job of leading one of the most prominent orchestras in the world. If he's as successful as an ambassador for classical music as he is as a conductor, he could have a career like Leonard Bernstein's if he wanted. As one of my friends said to me after the concert, this guy has a future with the orchestra. I cannot wait to see how Gilbert does next season.

Everything you ever wanted to know about the Subway Doctor

Gothamist posted an interview this morning with Dr. Zizmor, the subway dermatologist. I've been in New York about 10 years, and Dr. Zizmor's ads were among the first I noticed when I moved here and became a regular subway commuter. I've always had a low opinion of Dr. Z's practice. I tend to devalue local businesses that I see advertising in the subway, mostly because the older cars are so dingy and the ads look weathered and of poor quality as a result. I think it reflects badly on the business that chooses to advertise down there. My ex-wife used to work for a dermatologist, and everyone assumed that he was Dr. Z. (He was not.) Maybe that's just my opinion. I've never asked anyone if they've patronized an establishment based on a subway ad.

Stigma or not, the ads work for Dr. Z. He's built a successful practice and was ranked as one of the 10 best doctors in America by Harper's. It's good to know he's a reputable physician, should I ever need to have a tattoo removed.

That was the wettest I've ever been

I have never enjoyed riding my bike in the rain. I ride all summer long, but if I wake up for a ride and it's raining, I go to the gym instead. However, if I'm already riding and the rain starts, I can cope with it. There's nothing like a warm summer shower to cool you off on a hot day.

I'd been checking the weather reports all week for Sunday and Bike New York (AKA the 5 Boro Bike Tour) and they went from sunny to cloudy to a little afternoon rain. When I woke up this morning, I dressed as if it was going to rain in the afternoon, hopefully when I was riding home from the Staten Island Ferry. I wore my usual bike jersey and shorts and put on a water-resistant jacket. I stowed a pair of pants in my Camelbak but I didn't plan to wear them unless it got colder. I left the apartment at 7:30 under cloudy skies and a light rain. I wasn't happy but I'd been in this situation before. It's rained on the ride in years past but the sun always comes out by the afternoon. I wasn't so optimistic today but I hoped that the rain would pass and the streets would be dry.

Well, that's not how things went. By the time I got to Greenwich Village, the light rain had not subsided. I pulled onto Sixth Avenue as soon as the first wave of riders went by, and didn't notice until we neared Central Park that in my haste to get the ride behind me I'd gotten onto the route in front of the pace car. My butt was wet from the spray coming off my rear tire, and as the rain picked up, it was difficult to tell whether my face was getting wet from the rain or from the spray from other bikes.

The rain eased off a bit when I got to the Astoria Park rest stop. For some reason, they crammed all the riders into a parking lot instead of using a grassy hill as in past years. Having all the riders in a smaller space led to long lines (but luckily not a long wait) for the port-a-potties. After we left the rest stop, the light rain became a steady shower that didn't let up for the rest of the day. I considered bailing out of the ride at the Brooklyn Bridge and going home. But then an odd thing happened. The wetter I got, the less I cared about being wet. I reached a saturation point where I couldn't get any wetter. My rain jacket was soaked, my shoes and socks were squishing, and I got "prune hands." When I pulled over at the Commodore Barry rest stop in Brooklyn, I was singing along with the Motown songs spun by the radio DJ and looking forward to the BQE and the rest of the ride.

The worst thing about stopping every 45 minutes was the cooling-off. Even with being drenched, I didn't notice the cool air while I was riding. But as soon as I stopped, I started shivering. I usually like to take some time at each rest stop to eat something, walk a bit, and stretch my legs. On this ride, though, I only stopped long enough to use the bathroom, eat something quickly, and stretch in a hurry. At the end of the ride, I spent about 10 minutes at the festival on Staten Island, then I got back on the road to the ferry. The DJ at the festival played light rock hits, and one of the songs was Sheryl Crow's "Soak Up The Sun." Um, not today, buddy. And I didn't appreciate the reminder of the current state of affairs.

There was no wait for the ferry as in past years, but once again they put all of the cyclists in the "car" section of the boat. I suppose they do it that way to fit more riders on each boat, but I don't like it. There's no place to sit down, and there's no respite from the wind that cuts through the boat. And if you're a visitor to NY for the ride, you can't see the Statue of Liberty or the Manhattan skyline from that part of the boat. I turned my back to the wind and tucked my hands in my armpits to try to keep from shivering.

My teeth were chattering as I got off the ferry. The steady rain continued as I rode up through the South Street Seaport to the Manhattan Bridge. I had thought about taking the subway home, but I figured I had come this far, so I should finish the trip on the bike. I returned home to my warm, dry apartment at 2:15 PM, peeled off everything I was wearing, and took the longest, hottest, most luxurious shower I can remember. Afterward, I unpacked my Camelbak and found that everything in it got wet: my wallet, my camera, two bike maps, and even the pants I had stowed at the bottom. I'm surprised that my Blackberry still works after I got it wet. Apparently it takes far more punishment than I am capable of in order to destroy a 7290.

Now I am dry, and my hands are soft and supple after absorbing all that rainwater. I've found a cure for my perpetually dry hands, but at what cost?

This seems like a non-starter, and I hope it is

Gothamist has this story about TSA screeners replacing NYPD for random bag checks in the NY subway system. For those of you who don't live here, since the London bombings in 2005 the NYPD has conducted random backpack searches at subway stations. I see the police checking bags about once every two months at my subway stop in Brooklyn, and I used to see them about once a month at my old stop on the Upper East Side. But the bag checks are voluntary, in that if they ask you to open your bag and you refuse, you aren't allowed in the subway at that stop, but you also aren't detained. You can just walk to the next station that doesn't have a bag check table, and enter the subway there. I've never been asked to show my bag to them. Most of the time, the cops are just standing at their card table talking to each other. But I've heard stories about these "random" searches unfairly targeting people of color. I cannot imagine how much worse the situation will get under the TSA's "theater of security" system. According to the linked story, the TSA screeners have had three hours of training on legal issues and the subway system. I'm sure that's going to smooth everything over.

Between this and the swine flu scare, maybe it's time to look into working from home. I've been wanting to use the HDTV as a second monitor.

The long-awaited New Orleans weekend wrap-up

We left for New Orleans on Thursday evening, April 16. Leaving on a Thursday meant that I missed my first NYRO rehearsal since I joined the orchestra almost three years ago Instead of being in my usual seat in the orchestra for three hours, I spent that time on a plane sitting behind a group of girls who were on their way to a bachelorette weekend. They each drank more than a few glasses of wine and talked loudly for the entire flight. Later, they all got out their iPods, cued up the same song, and sang and danced in their seats. They were highly annoying. When the plane landed, they called their hotel and were disappointed that "the fire marshal" wouldn't let them get a cot in their room for one of their friends.

We took a cab to our hotel, the Astor Crowne Plaza on Canal Street, just around the corner from Bourbon Street. There was a brass band playing out on the street, and I felt right at home. The lobby was impressive, full of luxurious old marble and a swanky-looking bar. But the first room they gave us looked like a dressed-up prison cell. It was tiny, one of the walls was painted cinderblocks, and there was no closet. Kate declared this room to be unacceptable, and I agreed. We tried to call the front desk, but one of the two phones in the room didn't work. (The room wasn't really big enough to require two phones.) After some discussion, the hotel moved us to a different room down the hall. This room had two double beds (I had reserved a room with a king-size bed) and a closet, so it was an improvement over the Riker's Island-themed room.

On Friday morning, we went for a quick run along the riverfront and through the French Quarter. When we got back, I took a shower. Immediately, I discovered that the shower leaked from a faulty gasket connecting the removable shower head hose to the faucet. Even with the shower curtain closed, water sprayed all over the smooth tile bathroom floor and it became extremely slippery. I mopped up as best I could with some spare towels, wringing them out in the tub, and warned Kate. She told me to call the front desk, but I suggested that she should shower first in case they wanted to send someone up right away. After her shower, she stormed out of the bathroom and went straight to the phone and called downstairs. They offered to send someone up then, but we told them to wait 15 minutes so we could get dressed and leave.

Our first stop on Friday was Cafe Du Monde for coffee (should have had beignets too but you can't have everything), then we met Kate’s parents in Jackson Square to hear some music. After all, one reason for the trip was the French Quarter Festival, a free local music festival with stages all over the French Quarter and the riverfront. We spent the rest of Friday afternoon drinking bloody Mary’s, listening to live jazz and blues, and sampling local cuisine at the festival. We got back to the hotel at 4 PM to find that they hadn’t even cleaned the room yet. The maid came to our room just as we arrived and since she was quitting in 20 minutes, we agreed to let her clean the room while we went down to the front desk to see why they still hadn’t fixed the shower. When we went back to the room we had fresh towels but a still-leaky shower. We dressed for dinner and stopped at the front desk again on the way out to ask about the shower repair. The woman at the desk said she would see that someone took care of the problem right away.

We went to dinner at Clancy’s in the Garden District with Kate’s parents, some of their friends, and some of her cousins from Louisiana. We returned to the hotel around 10 PM to find our room door was open. Not wide open; the door was ajar. Nothing was missing (though Kate later insisted she was missing $40 she thought she put in her handbag) but the shower was still leaking badly. So we called the front desk again. They said that the engineer looked at the shower but he needed a part to fix it, and asked if we could wait until tomorrow to get it fixed. We said that wasn't an acceptable response and we couldn't stay in this room. It took them 12 hours just to get someone to look at the problem. And by the time they checked it out, every hardware store in New Orleans was closed, so they'd have no way to get the part until Saturday. So the hotel upgraded us to the “Executive” suite, and we packed our stuff and went to the lobby to get our new room keys. The executive room had a king size bed, a normal shower (not the removable hand-held kind) and was basically the room I had reserved four months ago. After all that excitement, we went to bed.

On Saturday morning, we worked out in the hotel gym, then got a free breakfast from the executive lounge down the hall. (Excellent coffee there, by the way.) After breakfast, we walked to Mother’s, where I had the "Ferdi’s po’ boy" and Kate had the sausage and grits. The po’ boy was just as incredible as advertised on an episode of "Man Vs. Food" that I saw in February. I have never before had a sandwich that had me near tears from sheer delicious joy. I wanted to get back in line and order another one as soon as I was done. We spend the rest of the day listening to different bands and souvenir shopping in the French Quarter.

We had dinner with Kate’s parents and friends at Cafe Giovanni. The meal was a tasting menu of five courses, and they had opera singers serenading the patrons with arias and show tunes. After dinner, Kate’s family and friends went to the Harrah's casino, and we went for a stroll through the Quarter. We had a drink at Jean Lafitte’s Blacksmith Pub, then walked down Bourbon Street to our hotel. A little of the noise and excitement of Bourbon Street goes a long way. For instance, there was a guy in gym shorts standing in the middle of Bourbon Street looking up at some girls on a balcony and pleasuring himself. Kate saw him and made sure I noticed him too. You can't find entertainment like that in New York.

On Sunday morning we went to Commander's Palace for brunch. I had the eggs Sardou and crawfish and pork, and a bottomless cup of their outstanding coffee. And I couldn't pass up the Creole bread pudding for dessert. After that meal I wasn't sure I'd ever be hungry again. We spent the afternoon shopping and listening to a little music, and then took a break at the hotel for a couple of hours before dinner. We met up with the family again for dinner at Broussard's in the French Quarter, where I had a crabmeat crepe and redfish with crawfish, shrimp, and crab. We walked down Bourbon Street again, this time with Kate's family, and one proprietor of a strip club tried to entice us by saying "it's family night!" We called it an early night as we had to get up at 5 AM for a 7 AM flight.

Next time, we'll have to plan an extra day on the front or the back end of the trip. Three full days was just too little time, but an extra day would be perfect. We could have gone to Acme Oyster House and the WWII Museum, or gone on the swamp tour. But until then I will enjoy coffee in my souvenir Cafe Du Monde mug. And I look forward to drinking more bloody Mary's now that I know how much I like them. Every vacation should include new discoveries about yourself.

GeoCities goes away

Many, many years ago, I had a personal web site on a Georgetown University web server that I built myself on a Windows 3.1 PC. That web server is still one of my proudest accomplishments as a geek, which is one reason I continue to tell that story. When I graduated and that server had to be retired (separate incidents, but they happened around the same time), I had to move my site to another host. Since I didn't have any bandwidth to host a site at home and work was no longer an option, I signed up for GeoCities. At the time it seemed like a great idea. They offered free web hosting and easy FTP uploading for data. What I didn't find out until later was that having a web site on GeoCities was like running your business out of a flea market. The sites themselves had weird URLs with goofy names like www.geocities.com/LosAngeles/7328/phil.html where you chose the "neighborhood" you wanted (LosAngeles) and then GeoCities assigned you a number that was "your" address in the neighborhood. The other sites on GeoCities were wacky pages that I wanted nothing to do with. I was ashamed just to be associated with them. I kept my site on GeoCities for about six months, until I got a new home computer and a dial-up account with web hosting privileges. I moved away from the flea market and never looked back.

Well, GeoCities became a Yahoo! property years ago, and now it's going away. I can't say I'll miss it, especially as I wasn't really aware it still existed and that anyone used it.

Stephen Hunter knows what he's talking about

Former Washington Post movie critic Stephen Hunter writes in today's paper about the Navy SEAL snipers that took out the Somali pirates on Sunday in order to rescue the captain of the Maersk Alabama. Hunter was in the Army for two years and has written several fiction books about snipers, so he knows his subject. I enjoyed the way his article puts the reader in the minds of the shooters, as much as such a thing is possible. I find it difficult to imagine what it must have been like for them, lying prone on the deck of a Navy destroyer with rifles trained on a small lifeboat bobbing in the waves 50 feet away. Hunter's article makes me realize that not only were they able to accomplish their mission, they probably could have done it from two or three times the distance.

I think I should add some of his books to my extensive "waiting to be read" list. Given my taste for military and spy fiction, I suspect I'd enjoy Hunter's fiction writing as much as I used to like his film reviews.

The Fox News-Simpsons connection.

Glenn Beck is trying so hard to be a blowhard, he's turning into Kent Brockman. I can just see Brockman ranting like this clown.

Field trip night at the NY Philharmonic

I think most of the audience at Friday's performance was made up of high school kids on a spring break trip. There were two rows of sulking teenagers behind us, and as far as we could tell, none of them had been to a classical music concert before. I think it's great that these kids came to the NY Philharmonic instead of a Broadway show or some other New York attraction, but it would have helped if someone had briefed them on what to expect. At intermission, one gawky guy leaned forward and said to the two girls in front of him, "they played two songs in one hour." (The first half of the program was Stravinsky's Dumbarton Oaks Concerto and Prokofiev's Violin Concerto No. 2.) Another boy remarked that the bathroom was "fancy." At the end of the concert, as the audience showered the orchestra and guest conductor Charles Dutoit with rapturous applause following a rousing rendition of Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 5, the first boy said "OK, it's over! Why does he [Dutoit] keep coming back out?"

I hope these kids enjoyed their evening. They were better behaved than the crazy lady wandering around at the last concert I attended.

NYRO concert this saturday: Berlioz, Pizzetti and Liadov

I almost forgot to post the concert notice. I realize it's only 57 hours away, but I'm getting the word out anyway. I'm really excited about playing Berlioz's Harold in Italy. It was one of the first CDs I bought, after I'd been hearing parts of it on the radio for years. John Dexter played Martinu's Rhapsody-Concerto with NYRO two years ago, and it's great to have him back for this concert.

Dear Friends of NYRO,

Spring is here -- and to welcome the new season, our April 4th concert will have you basking in the warmth of the Mediterranean sun. We'll travel to Italy and Greece (with a side trip up to Russia for a bit of meteorological contrast) with music by Anatoly Liadov, Ildebrando Pizzetti, and Hector Berlioz. Add our fantastic soloist, violist John Dexter, and a very special night is in store for everyone!

I look forward to seeing you!

Best regards,
David Leibowitz, Music Director

April 4, 2009 - Berlioz in Italy

What better way to celebrate the beginning of spring than with a musical journey to sunny Italy? Violist John Dexter returns to the NYRO stage as soloist in Hector Berlioz' epic symphony-concerto "Harold in Italy!" Also on hand - charming musical rarities by Anatoly Liadov and Ildebrando Pizzetti. Date: Saturday, April 4, 2009 Time: 8:00pm Place: Good Shepherd-Faith Church (152 West 66th Street) Admission: FREE Here's the full program: Liadov: Eight Russian Folk Songs Pizzetti: Three Symphonic Preludes on Oedipus Rex Berlioz: "Harold in Italy" - John Dexter, viola About the program: Anatoly Liadov's Eight Russian Folk Songs are charming musical miniatures that evoke the deep mystery and beauty of the Russian musical spirit. In turns festive, rustic, and serene, these short character sketches are a pure delight! Performed only once before in the United States since its creation, Ildebrando Pizzetti created three haunting tone poems based on the Greek tragedy Oedipus Rex. These Three Symphonic Preludes beautifully capture the brooding sense of tragedy inherent in the drama. You won't want to miss hearing this wonderful work. Epic in scope, sunny in disposition, and dramatic in narrative Harold in Italy by French composer Hector Berlioz is one of the gems of the orchestral repertoire. Based on Lord Byron's "Childe Harold," the music traces our hero as he travels through the Abruzzi mountains, passing pilgrims, meeting shepherds, and, finally, being pursued by a band of cutthroat brigands! It's an exciting musical adventure! About our soloist: Back on the NYRO stage by popular demand, virtuoso violist John Dexter is a mainstay of New York's musical scene. An accomplished soloist, Mr. Dexter premiered and recorded, to great critical acclaim, Anthony Newman's virtuosic Viola Concerto. Mr. Dexter is a member of the American Symphony Orchestra and the American Composers Orchestra, and he has also performed with the New York City Opera, Philharmonia Virtuosi, Joffrey Ballet, and Hong Kong Philharmonic. As a chamber musician, Mr. Dexter is the violist in the award-winning Manhattan String Quartet and, since joining the MSQ in 1980, has made over twenty critically-acclaimed recordings of the string quartet repertoire.

Moving update, settling in

It's the end of day two here and I'm beginning to feel more comfortable in my new cubicle and office. The worst aspect of the move thus far has been the elevators in this building. The firm's New York headquarters building has 54 floors and 24 elevators, with six serving my firms's floors. This building has 34 floors and just 12 elevators, and of the six that serve our two floors, only four appear to be working at this time. In other words, we're "under-elevatored," to use the manufacturers' jargon. I arrived right at 9 AM yesterday morning to find a crowd of about 25 people waiting for the elevators for our floors. They didn't all work for my firm; I think most of them worked for the credit union that occupies the ten floors below ours. This morning when I arrived at 10 AM the crowd was sparse but the wait was much longer than I'm used to. And at 1 PM when we went to lunch in the cafeteria across the street, we had to think about the elevator waiting time for our departure and return. I'm glad I'm not on a time clock or else I'd have to arrive ten minutes early just to punch in on time.

I've uploaded some photos of my new cubicle, and I've already moved things around since yesterday. Initially, I set up my computers in the same way they had been configured at my old desk. But in this office I have less privacy than I used to, and the arrangement with my Mac in the middle of the desk was too open for me. This afternoon I moved the Mac to the inside corner of the cubicle, to the left of my laptop. This arrangement gives me a little more privacy from people walking by, or at least I think it does. And it gives me the rest of the desk for paperwork or testing other computers as needed.

I also deployed my rearview mirror when it arrived. For the time being it's going to rest in a coffee mug so I don't have to glue it to my monitor. I just have to remember to look at it when I hear people approaching me. And also not become absorbed in my own reflection.

The office move is nearly complete

This weekend my department and a few others are moving to a new office space across the street from the main office. It's a big effort and it's created plenty of work, and my employers are doing their best to make us feel like we're still part of the firm. They've given us some perks in the cafeteria, installed new vending machines and coffee makers in the new space, and built new cubicles with new VoIP phones. The last item's inclusion means that my group, in charge of the network, are now partly responsible for voice communication as well. These phones have already been an issue. As with any new technology (or new to you), there will be problems and a learning curve. The new office space opens tomorrow, and I was there this afternoon to unpack and check my computer setup. Last week I packed all of my office items except for my computers and peripherals, and the hardware department set up the computers yesterday. I lost a KVM switch and a spare mouse somewhere in the move process, so I hope to get those back later this week. Otherwise, everything is unpacked and set up so I can get right to work tomorrow.

I also ordered a rearview mirror for my computer monitor. Until Friday I had a prime cubicle in the back corner of our office, with my chair facing the entryway, so no one could sneak up behind me. Now my monitor is positioned facing away from the way my superiors will likely come to visit me. It's not that I'm doing things I don't want them to see, but I'm uncomfortable with the idea of people surprising me. I usually wear earbuds while I work so I can't hear people walking by. I hope that the mirror will give me a clue as to when my boss is about to stop by and see how I'm doing. And it will give me a way to check my teeth for stuck bits of food after lunch.

My money is on Moonlit Wang and Nutritious Love

The 2009 Name of the Year Tournament bracket is out. I'd watch out for Marrell Ya'Hynis Wilson as the 8 seed in the Sithole Regional. He could go deep in this tournament. So could Dr. Shasta Kielbasa in the Chrotchtangle Regional, though the potential matchup with Iris Macadangdang in the Sweet 16 will be a tough one. In the Bulltron Regional, I like the winner of the 6-11 pairing of Muffin Lord and Zeppy O'Green to go a long way, and over in the Dragonwagon Regional, Uranus Golden and Juvyline Cubangbang will both give the Rev. Valentine Handwerker a run for his money. It'll be an exciting tournament, there's no doubt of that.

The sad part is that I've spent more time analyzing this bracket than my NCAA picks. But I laughed longer at this one.

My one concession to the holiday

These are my kind of Irish tenors.

This link is NSFW, home or anywhere else, but it's funny

I might regret linking to this blog post. My mother reads my blog on occasion. Several other friends, family, and other people I know and respect read it. Still, I would be remiss in my duties if I neglected to pass along another blog entry that made me laugh.

Kissing Suzy Kolber and With Leather, two of my favorite sports blogs, are running a March Madness bracket of sexual fetishes. I had never heard of most of the things that made the list, and when I looked them up yesterday at work, I made sure to use an outside Internet connection on my Mac. These aren't the sort of search terms you'd want your coworkers or managers to read in a log somewhere. And some of them aren't what you think they are. I suggest caution if you choose to investigate further. If you have the time to kill and the inclination, and you don't mind the poor audio quality, I recommend the podcast of the four bloggers making the picks for their brackets. In addition to hearing the explanations of all of the entries, they're also hysterically funny as they crack themselves up.