Hello out there - if there are any napalmreaders left!

Check this action out:



I'll probably post something meaningful sometime soon.

Peter

I should have been more explicit about the fate of poor Ash. Here he is. If anybody knows a good soul within driving distance of the Monterey peninsula who is looking for a sweet little dog, feel free to forward this to them.

Sniff.

So long, Asher. You were a good dog. And in your memory, I only have one word to say:

"Workshed!"

ps - sorry no other writings yet.

Time for a make-over for the ol' Napalm blog, don't you think?

Ever since the birth of my child, I've been putting all of the really significant family stuff that I've been up to here. And so, the Napalm Blog, in its current state, has kind of become obsolete.

I mean, I can still post about how weird David Hasselhoff is, and stuff like that, but I think that I'd like to do something a bit more creative and fulfilling than that, you know?

So I think the next iteration of the blog, set to begin next week, will be a creative writing journal for myself. The aim will be this: each entry will attempt to be a complete story, written entirely within the half-hour window I give myself every few days to dedicate to blog entries. I have no idea if this will even work, but we'll just have to see.

Sound like fun?

Okay!

End transmission.

I DID IT!
My two-year sojourn as a graduate student has come to an end. It's over. Thank you to family, friends, and faculty for your love and support through good times and bad.

Check out this sweet cake that Sheri commissioned for the occasion:



Isn't it awesome? In case you can't read it, it says "Way to Go" on the top, and "MATLM" along the side. That's the name of the degree, see. Master of Arts in Translation and Localization Managment.

It was a good weekend. My parents, and most of Sheri's family came in to town and spent some time down on the windy Marina beach, ate some pizza and mexican food, and generally had a good time.

End Transmission.

Do you ever have one of those moments where you re-encounter something that you saw way in your past, and that you've thought about ever since, especially about how cool it would be if you were to find it again, and then you do, and it totally lives up to your expectations?

Here's a clip from this old, old show called the Dana Carvey show, which wasn't on the air for more than a couple of months, and was always changing its name due to its varying sponsors, like "The Mug Root Beer Dana Carvey Show," or the "Country Time Lemonade Dana Carvey Show." I remember liking it, and wondering why the show wasn't more popular, but this clip in particular always stuck out in my mind.

And then, thanks to YouTube, and to Rob F., I found it again, and it's just as awesome as I remember. And little did I know that the Mug Root Beer Dana Carvey Show starred these two future greats:



End Transmission.

Happy Birthday, Heff...
I guess...

I had a moment the other day - one of those moments that makes you realize just what a bizarre world we live in.

So Heff is on this show, right? About the life he leads with his three live-in girlfriends, lounging around in PJ's all day, buying parrots and doing weird, frankly pointless things. And the thing about this show that gets me is this: when you listen to him talk, Heff actually sounds like a regular joe his age! You'd never guess that this normal guy, a guy who frankly sounds like my uncle when he talks, could go home and do a Scrooge MacDuck into the vast millions he has made by selling racy pictures, after which he could pick which one of his Harem would bring him a snifter of brandy and give him a foot rub.

And here's the bizarre part: on the five-minute stretch of the show that I happened to watch one time (no, seriously - just five minutes, and I didn't enjoy them, not even the silky-pajamaed lovelies prancing around), Heff and his ladies decide to strike up a friendly game of Monopoly. Like you would if you didn't live in the Playboy Mansion.

So just picture the scene, if you will: my Mormon wife and I, watching a television show featuring a smutty old millionaire having a family game night with his three 20-something girlfriends. The ironies and bizarrities are boundless.

You get me?


End Transmission.