Apparently some mystical force is at work to ensure that we never get cable TV or high-speed Internet access at home. Today was our second scheduled rendezvous with the installation crews of these two services, and it didn't go any better than the first.

The Dish Network guy showed up and couldn't install the satellite because he didn't have a tall enough ladder. It seems that the customer service people neglected to ask whether we lived in a one-story or two-story home when we placed our order. The earliest date for which they were able to reschedule was Sept. 19.

The cable Internet guy showed up around the same time this morning, and he couldn't install a cable modem, either. According to him, the cable wiring in our house is some cheap kind of wire, and it's not wide enough to support high-speed Internet. We'd have to get an electrician to rewire the house first. He said he's run into the same problem with several houses in our neighborhood.

This whole process is driving me crazy. I don't even care about having either of these services. I'm perfectly happy not watching television, and I'm on a high-speed Internet connection all day at work, so I can get by without it at home. But I am not the norm. Most people (in our socio-economic class, at least) do  want these things, so the fact that it is such a hassle to set up common ammenities baffles me. I was under the impression that as a process became routine, it also became easier. I should have known better.

While I wasn't dead-set on getting these services before, we've been led through such a complex web of bureaucracy that now it's become a challenge that I must conquer.

My new co-worker, Christina, just made an interesting observation about our working conditions. She suggests that we are the subjects of intense psychological testing. It's grotesquely hot, the room is being pumped full of toxic fumes (from the fresh paint next door), and there's incessant banging noise (coming from the construction). Soon, I expect they'll have our eyelids propped open forcing us to watch horrific images flash on a screen while listening to Beethoven.

It is hot in here. The air conditioner isn't on at my office. Unfortunately, the thermostat is in an office two doors down the hall, and the door is locked. It's days like today when getting the desk next to the window doesn't seem like the best deal, after all.

Speaking of al.com's temp office, we're getting a new resident next week. Brian makes the move to Birmingham tomorrow, and he'll turn our group into a quartet. We went over to check the progress of the new office a couple days ago, and saw no signs of construction. It looks like we're going to be in this little room for a while.

Yesterday I spent the day at Haven. It was an interesting change of pace to see the Thursday regulars instead of the Wednesday regulars. Some of them obviously didn't expect to see me. My ex-wife included. She showed up and got on my nerves for 20 minutes or so. Overall, business was very slow, so I occupied myself by catching up on finance stuff.

I'm still working on trying to sell the store. There's been plenty of casual interest, but only a few serious parties. Most of them have fallen through, deciding to pursue other projects instead. A glimmer of hope has surfaced this afternoon, as I heard from one of the potential buyers who says he's interested. I like this guy, so I hope things gel to make the deal happen. I'd much rather the store go to him than to an unknown.

I was also excited to learn today that R.E.M. will be broadcasting their concert from the first U.S. stop of their current tour on their website Sunday. Since we're supposed to get high-speed Internet access at home tomorrow, I should be able to watch. I'll have to clear it with Misty first, though. Sunday is her birthday, and chances are she's going to want to do something other than sit in front of the computer. Go figure.

The Oxford Dictionary of English has added the word "blog" to its pages. I'm relieved to hear that this pastime has some validity now.

They also added the word "egosurfing" which means "searching the Internet for references to oneself." I did some egosurfing of my own tonight, and I found myself mentioned in Geoff Morris's weblog. Geoff is a guy I worked with in the student government of UAH several years ago. As if that wasn't enough of an ego kick, the title of his post is "Standing on the Shoulders of Giants." I am taken aback.

A friend of Misty's shared with us a "foolproof" way of determining our unborn child's gender yesterday. Before I even heard this latest method of womb wizardry, I was, of course, dubious. A "foolproof" test only means that not even a fool can mess it up. But that's not the problem, is it? Misty and I are not fools. It's not our performance in the test I'm worried about — it's the performance of the test itself.

Nevertheless, the woman who shared this wisdom with us says that of the 19 grandchildren in her family, it has worked on all of them. Friends of hers have tried it, and it's always worked, she insists.

Supposedly, all you have to do is fill a cup about halfway with Draino and urinate into the cup. If the mixture turns brown, your baby will be a girl; if it turns greenish or bluish, the baby will be a boy. Misty tried it, and announced that we'll be having a girl.

This revelation, however, contradicted the test we'd done a few weeks ago, handed down by Misty's mother. We hung a key from a thread over Misty's belly, and because it spun instead of swinging from side to side, that meant we were to have a boy.

Anyway, when I looked at the mixture in the cup, I couldn't determine any color. In fact, all I could see was a bunch of foam. When the foam finally dissipated, it didn't seem to have any color at all — it was just clear. Maybe using Wal-Mart's brand of drain cleaner instead of the official Draino brand affected the results. I didn't bother telling Misty. She was happy with her "answer."

Today didn't go exactly as planned. The cable guy was supposed to show up between 10 a.m. and noon. No doubt you can see where this is going. He's a cable guy — of course he didn't show up on time. I called Charter Communications around 12:30 to let then know that I was still waiting. They said they'd send someone out soon. Someone did indeed arrive soon. However, when he got to the house, he informed me that my neighborhood is serviced by Time Warner Cable, not Charter. Arg! Why couldn't the customer service people have told us that a week ago when we ordered the service?

On the plus side, while I was waiting for the cable guy, I finally finished reading Left Behind. Hopefully now I can move on to a good  book.

I watched the first half of Chicago last night. I won't be bothering with the second half. I know I'm going to sound ignorant here, but there was just too much singing. Musicals usually aren't my thing (with Singin' in the Rain and a few Disney movies being the acceptions), so I shouldn't be surprised that I didn't like it, but I wanted to give it a chance, at least. The song and dance productions were quite impressive if you like that sort of thing, but I couldn't get into them. Instead, I kept wanting the movie to hurry up. It felt like the whole story could have been told in 30 minutes.

In much more exciting movie news, The Two Towers is out on DVD today. I ordered my copy last week, but I used Amazon's super-saver shipping deal, so it'll probably be another week before it arrives. I can wait, though.

In the meantime, we're going to be bombarded with entertainment choices tonight, as we finally get cable installed today! Along with the 600,000 or so channels we're getting is HBO, so I'll be able to keep up with The Sopranos and Six Feet Under. Best of all, we're getting cable Internet access hooked up as well. Finally I'll be able to surf, blog, chat, and all that other nonsense without waiting 5 minutes for each page to download.

You're an INDIFFERENT AIM-ER. Meh.


What kind of AIM-er are you?
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That's right! Now, if only you buggers who are so giddy about instant messanges would quit pestering me, everything would be fine.

Last night Misty and I rented a movie and picked up pizza. We had fun searching for a movie and even waiting for our order at Pizza Hut. When we got home, however, I discovered that my pizza was made incorrectly. I'd ordered a deep-dish cheese lover's. Upon biting into a slice, it was obvious that it was neither of those things. I took it back to the restaurant for a refund. The employees were very nice about it — they didn't argue with me, even though I knew they thought I was wrong.

When I got back home, Misty suggested that I call the 800 number to complain — not because I was actually upset, but because doing so always gets you free stuff. I called, and the customer service guy I spoke with was "deeply concerned." Pizza Hut "strives for excellence," he told me. He was going to make a note to the district manager so this sort of thing wouldn't happen again. Wow. The district manager! I felt so vindicated. But wait a minute... What do I get out of the deal? Nothing! No free pizza... no coupons... nothing! That's the last time I try to take advantage of the system.

Maybe I'll talk to Allison's husband about it. He seems to have the business of getting free food from resturants down pat. But then, that may also be because he's in the mafia.

. . .

Update: There has been some question raised as to why it took me until I bit into  the pizza for me to notice that it was not prepared as specified. It was  a cheese pizza — I just didn't realize how little cheese there was until I took a bite. Hence, there was nothing "lover's" about its cheese content. As for the crust, it didn't appear to be deep-dish, but I figured, "What do I know?" Again, however, a bite demonstrated otherwise. I do indeed know the difference between thick crust and regular. I guess my mind just required that little bit more proof.

For those of you who think I'm making too big a deal out of a little thing — I'm not, really. The pizza wasn't what I wanted. I took it back. I got a refund. No sleep lost. The real problem here is that I couldn't think of anything better to write about today. I kinda scraped bottom with this post. At least it wasn't another stupid quiz result.

As those of you who read my blog regularly can no doubt tell, I changed the page design today. I've been meaning to do it since I launched this blog, but as with most things, I procrastinated.

I wanted something to capture the essence of the title "Impending Distractions," and I remembered a book I read when I was a child called A Fly Went By. I searched around for a bit, and sure enough, I managed to dig up an image from the book. I think it fits quite nicely.

According to the Mobile Register: "With a desire to secure free tickets to see 'American Idol' winner Ruben Studdard perform, Anita Hopper sat at the head of the line nearly 18 hours before they were distributed Saturday morning. The 8,800 free tickets for the Sept. 2 concert at the Mobile Civic Center, which became available at 10 a.m., ran out in 30 minutes with more than 700 people still clamoring for them." Similarly, "in Birmingham, 10,000 tickets ran out in 17 minutes Saturday morning."

Now, when I acquired my tickets yesterday, I didn't have any problems. I didn't have to wait more than five minutes. It was easy. All you needed to do was use the Internet!   Who waits in line for concert tickets anymore?!

And as if that wasn't enough to make me shake my head in disappointment: "Hopper ... said the other people at the front of the line with her waited there throughout the night, surviving on fast food and staving off boredom by people-watching, singing and line dancing." Line dancing is already the most ridiculous form of recreation known to man (well, maybe not as ridiculous as curling), but now they've managed to work it into a pun. Ugh.

I just got six free tickets to the Ruben Studdard - Believe in Alabama concert. He's performing with his band Just a Few Cats and comedian Ced Delaney in order to promote voter turnout for the Sept. 9 tax vote in Alabama.

Misty already saw Ruben last week at the American Idols Live performance. She and her cousin had a great time at the show. They said that the crowd would just go crazy any time Ruben appeared on stage or said anything. I am anxious to see how his hometown reacts to him at a concert that won't have Clay Aiken and the rest of the American Idol ninnies crowding the spotlight.

Horrible news. One of the world's most respected and influential musicians has passed away. Singer-songwriter Wesley Willis died Thursday. The cause of his death is unknown, but it is speculated that it resulted due to complications with Lukemia.

With a body of work that included over fifty albums and such inspirational tunes as "Rock n Roll McDonald's," "I Whupped Batman's Ass," "Cut the Mullet," "Elvis Presley," and "I'm Sorry That I Got Fat," Willis was an artist who will surely be revered throughout the ages. With any luck, fellow musicians will get together soon and produce a tribute album.

I picked up breakfast from Jack's this morning on my way to work. When I ordered a buttered biscuit from the cashier, she pulled her microphone over and called out, "one butter!" A few seconds passed while she appeared to contemplate something, then she grabbed the microphone again and added, "biscuit! " I guess there was a previous incident of confusion that she didn't want to see repeated.

After a series of delays, my Huntsville house finally closed yesterday (cue parting clouds and music from the heavens).

My realtor had called me a few days earlier to suggest that I have one of my friends mow the lawn. However, the grass had not been cut for weeks, and Huntsville has been getting a lot of rain. Two weeks earlier, I'd trimmed a lot of the really bad spots with a weed eater, but overall, the grass was very high, and surely it had grown even more since. It was too high for a conventional lawn mower to make a single sweep without choking. Basically, I'd have to hire a professional crew with an industrial-strenth mower to do the job.

I was getting fed up with this deal. Every time there was a delay, it was costing me money. My mortgages were accruing interest, I was paying a utility bill for a house I wasn't living in, and I'm having to pay mortgage insurance on my Birmingham house while I own two properties. On top of this, now he wanted me to pay to have someone cut the grass. So I told him I wasn't going to do it. I told him that if they buyers were going to keep delaying, it was their fault that the grass had gotten so high (though I'm sure they had nothing to do with the delays), so if they wanted it cut, they could do it when they moved in. I also told him that if the lawn became an issue at closing, or if there were any further delays, that I was ready to pull out and find another buyer.

Apparently, this threat worked with my realtor. No doubt he didn't want his work in brokering the deal on my house to go to waste. So a day before closing, he cut the grass. I thanked him and acted impressed that he went out of his way to help, but for what he's getting paid, I think I deserved it.

It is a relief to not have to think about the Huntsville house anymore. Of course, now the next project shifts into high gear — selling Haven.

Kara stomped me in the virus competition. I only got 75 e-mails infected with the SoBig worm. Download your protection now.

I just registered this blog with Globe of Blogs. I've been checking out their site this morning, and it seems a pretty nifty concept. You can search for blogs by name, topic, location, or even the author's birthday. I found a few local pages that I'll probably start reading regularly. Anyway, go sign up.

The following is a phone conversation I overheard upon dropping Misty off after lunch today. Granted, I only heard one side of the conversation.

"Standifer's Animal Clinic..."

...

"Which cat is it?"

...

"OK. Are you going to come pick it up, or do you want us to just mail it to you?"

I got to drive like the British today.

On my way to work, traffic was stopped on I-459 east-bound into Birmingham, just a short distance from exit 10. An 18-wheeler had gone off the road in the heavy morning fog and was splayed sideways. There might have been more going on, but I couldn't see. I sat in parked traffic for 40 minutes, very glad that Misty had left a copy of the Black & White in my car. A lot of people got out of their vehicles to chat with fellow commuters and to gawk at whatever was going on up ahead.

Eventually, some people started making bold maneuvers — particularly, turning their cars around and driving the wrong direction down the emergency lane. At first, I thought they were crazy, but as it turned out, the police were actually orcestrating this reverse production. Eventually, they managed to get everyone turned around and headed the other way. It must have looked bizarre to the drivers in the west-bound lanes of 459, seeing us driving down the wrong side of the highway. My compliments to the police who managed to pull this off. The situation could have turned out a lot worse.

The city of Saraland, Alabama is considering an ordinance limiting the number of pets a household can keep. Apparently, there's a woman in town who raises pit bull terriers (it had to be pit bulls, didn't it?) and one of her neighbors has been complaining about the noise and the smell.

Part of me thinks the whole concept of such an ordinance is funny, and part of me wishes Birmingham would instate one. Of course, I don't have a problem with my neighbors -- it's my own home. Three dogs (shih-tzus) and one cat. It's (if you'll excuse the cliché) a zoo. But, as much as I try to avoid admitting it, I love 'em. I can sympathize with the pet owners interviewed in the article. How would we ever decide which pet to part with? I suppose we could have a contest. After a week, whichever dog has had the fewest incidents of antagonizing her sisters, stealing the cat's food, peeing on the carpet, digging up buried treasure from the cat's litter box, knocking over the trash, and waking us up in the middle of the night by barking at the couch is the dog that gets to stay.

Of course with this trio, there'd be a three-way tie, and they'd all be doomed.

I finally found out what's been causing my computer to repeatedly shut down over the past week. I had the Blaster Worm. If your computer is similarly afflicted, download the removal tool to delete the worm from your system, then download the Windows update that will prevent it from digging in there again. Thanks to Ultimate Josh for helping me out.

I doubt that most who read my blog will have any idea what this is, but I was so shocked that such a quiz even exists, that I had to post my results. Here's what GloomCookie character I am...



which Gloomcookie Character are you?
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Lyndi? It figures. She's the most tame and least interesting of any of the characters.

For those of you who aren't familiar with the world of GloomCookie, it's a comic created by Serena Valentino and Ted Naifeh about gothic poetry, unrequited love, and monsters under the bed. It's quite good. Or, as Serena would say, it's yummy, squishy, cute, and creepy.

The massive blackout that struck the northeast U.S. yesterday has effected al.com. Our site, like all of Advance Internet's news sites, is hosted in New Jersey. So, there's nothing we can do today at work. Word is that things should be up and running around 2 or 3 p.m., but we'll see.

As for the blackout, Canada and the U.S. are blaming each other. Hey, guys? Instead of worrying whose fault it was, why not dedicate your efforts to restoring power? At least for now. Point fingers tomorrow. I'm waiting for someone to give a nod to South Park with the headline "Blame Canada."

What a perfect day for Allison to have launched her blog Canadian Invasion.

I now officially hate the city of Homewood. Yesterday I had lunch at a sports bar called P.T.'s. Their restaurant shares a small parking lot with Mexico Lindo. At this location (as with several in Homewood) you are forced to use valet parking. I was annoyed but tolerant. I gave the valet my keys and went to eat.

Upon exiting the restaurant after lunch, I told the valet that my car was the silver Jetta. He did a quick scan of the parking lot, pointed to my car and said, "it's right over there."

Now, since I didn't particularly want to tip him for a service I didn't want in the first place, I was actually glad for his rudeness. I can get my own car. However, he didn't have the keys. They were "on the left rear tire," he told me. Great place for them. That way anyone who wants to test drive a new Jetta doesn't have to bother going to a dealership.

When we got to the car, Misty noted that the rear bumper was touching the guard rail behind it. We pulled the car out, and, sure enough, the paint was scratched up and the bumper was bowed slightly.

So I bring Vinny Valet over to see the damage. "Oh, I'm really sorry," he says. "Are you going to want to get that repaired?" Granted, the damage is small, and if I were the guy who backed someone else's car into a guard rail, I would hope that the owner would simply say, "Nah, don't worry about it." But I would never be so bold as to raise such a question out loud. He should have immediately offered to pay for whatever it was. But then, consider who we've been dealing with in this story.

The valet called his boss and talked to him about the incident. Then he gave me his boss' business card, telling me that I could call tomorrow and the valet company would pay for the damages. Not only am I going to do that, I'm also going to write letters to P.T.'s and Mexico Lindo informing them that as long as they continue to require me to use valet parking, I will not be dining at their establishments.

All this because the pretentious snots in Homewood can't bear the thought of walking 12 feet in the summer sun from their Lexus to the restaurant door. Misty's sentiments summed things up perfectly. She mentioned that Homewood has an annual "We Love Homewood Day" parade and said that she'd rather go to the "Homewood Can Kiss My Ass Day" parade.

The house didn't close yesterday. I am not surprised. The same thing happened when I was buying my Birmingham home. The underwriters aren't ready yet, and they don't know when they will be. Of course, they waited until the morning of the supposed closing to let the realtors know. Jerks.

My day got even worse when I stopped by Haven for a couple minutes around 4:15 and found the store closed. Jeff just didn't show up to work, apparently. Jerk. Luckily, Josh was scheduled for 4:30, so he got there just after I did and I didn't have to stick around and work.

But I don't want to dwell on the bad stuff. I was frustrated enough yesterday. Some nice things happened, too. I had lunch at Wild Rose with Allison and Justin. We're all trying to predict who will replace Allison when she leaves al.com in a few weeks. I brought a stack of moving boxes to Brian who exchanged them for his mini-fridge and microwave. On the way home last night, I put the appliances in the temp office so we have the makings of a kitchen (sort of). In between lunch and the non-closing, I hung out with Julie and Ultimate Josh. We grabbed the last bit of stuff from my house and switched Julie's squashed recycle bin for my nice one.

When I got home, Misty was tired and had a headache. What I find so strange, though, is that even though she's constantly tired or nauseous from the pregnancy — even though the prospect of having a baby is frightening and stressful — Misty is smiling more than I've ever seen her. She is really happy about having a baby. And seeing her happy makes my lousy day seem pretty good.

I finally saw Pirates of the Caribbean yesterday. Like everyone else, I thoroughly enjoyed it. Great special effects, costumes, and makeup along with a good acting and a solid story. Did Jerry Bruckheimer really produce this movie? I loved the scene paying homage to the Disney ride where the three prisoners are trying to coax the dog to bring them the keys. It was a cute way to work that sort of thing in without it being distracting.

After the movie, Misty and I stopped at Wal-Mart where we bought some oats so I can finally bake her the oatmeal cookies she's been craving all week. And, in case you were wondering, she's had plenty of mashed potatoes in the meantime.

Today is going to be busy, but hopefully I'll get some loose ends tied up. In a short while, I'll be off to Huntsville so I can close on my house. I had to call my realtor at 9 p.m. last night to find out when and where. This was a detail that he'd still neglected to mention. I got a call back an hour later and expected him to tell me that the closing date had been moved (as happened several times when buying my new house in Birmingham), but he said everything still looked good.

Before the closing, I need to: pick up any last stray items from the Huntsville house, get my tax information from Haven together and take it to my accountant (that's right, I still haven't filed my tax return yet), take a stack of packing boxes over to al.com's office so others can use them when they move, and pick up a microwave and mini-fridge from Brian (thank you!). Upon typing in my to-do list here, it doesn't seem so daunting, but I know it's going to be a hectic day.

I'd better get moving...

Alex Alonso has been promoted to Executive Editor at Marvel. I don't really care who the executive editor is because I don't really know what the executive editor does. But that's besides the point. My concerns lie elsewhere.

According to a press release, coming soon from Alonso's office are "a major relaunch of The Punisher and a bold, new creative direction for Captain America." What the hell for? Marvel just relaunched "Punisher" a couple years ago with Garth Ennis at the helm, and most people agree that it's the best the series has ever been. "Captain America," too, was just relaunched/revamped a little over a year ago, and it's been selling very well (thanks to Marvel's ultilization of the September 11 tragedies as a marketing ploy).

Relaunching "Punisher" (and "Wolverine," too, for that matter) only contradicts Marvel's new policy of returing titles to their original numbering. "Fantastic Four," "Amazing Spider-Man," and several others were cancelled a few years ago and immediately relaunched with a new issue #1. Supposedly, Marvel has now realized the folly of that move, and is altering the numbering again to set it at the point it would be at now if it hadn't been changed the first time. Of course it's all just a gimmick. They want to put a bunch of hype around an "issue #500." But they also want to put a bunch of hype around an "issue #1."

My opinion? Don't worry about what number it's on, whether the cover is shiny, or whether Wizard says it's going to be a hot issue. Just read the damn book if you like it.

Misty just called to inform me that she wants mashed potatoes and oatmeal cookies for lunch. I can already see that she's going to milk this pregnancy for all it's worth.

Casablanca was released on DVD earlier this week. This came as somewhat of a surprise to me, as I've already owned a copy on DVD for a few years now.

It turns out that the movie is being redistributed to coencide with its 60th anniversary, and this time there are even more special features on the two-disc set. Do I really need to buy another copy, though? The enhanced digital transfer isn't something I'm swayed by, but the new inclusions of commentary by Roger Ebert and the Looney Tunes homage cartoon "Carrotblanca," have me tempted.

If you don't already own a copy — even if you've never seen the movie — you should certainly pick one up. There's good reason the American Film Institute named it as the second best film of all time.

Marilyn Manson has been banned from another venue. This, of course, is nothing new for him. I enjoy a good bit of his music, but it's easy to see why people don't want him to bring a concert to their town.

What I don't understand is this... He's banned from the Six Flags Darien Lake stop of the Ozzfest tour. So, Manson is inappropriate, but Korn, Disturbed, and Ozzy Osbourne are wholesome entertainment?

I woke up early this morning and couldn't get back to sleep. Lots of things are rushing through my head, so I'm not surprised. Rather than stay in bed and end up waking Misty, I decided to finally post our sketchbooks online from the San Diego Comic Con.

Here's the picture Scott Morse drew of the two of us.



Click the image to see the rest of the sketches.

I'll get right to the point...

Misty is pregnant. I'm going to be a dad.

Let it sink in for a moment. I've had a little while already. We just found out this afternoon at the OB/GYN.

We got to see images of the baby and listen to its heartbeat on a little ultrasound thingy. It's currently 3mm long.





According to the medical people, the pregnancy is 6 weeks and 4 days along, but how they can tell that is beyond me. The baby is due on March 26. Again, how they can be that specific is beyond me.

No, it's not something we had planned on. In fact, we had actively taken steps in the other direction. Nevertheless, we are excited and happy. I am especially.

Now let's see who reads this blog first...

Roger Ebert is taking issue with the MPAA again over their PG-13 rating for the movie Whale Rider. While I haven't seen the movie, I nevertheless agree with him. I'd make an argument for his case, but I'd only be repeating what he has already done a good job of explaining. The MPAA's rating system has become all but useless. Ratings do not match the movies they are paired with and theaters and parents make little effort to enforce the system anyway.