Wild in The Streets of Windsor

TFN went to Toronto on business this week, and I took her to the train station in Windsor. First we went to a great little Irish pub for some fish and chips and steak and Guinness pie.

As we sat in the front of the bar, things started to get a little crazy in the street out front, as people streamed by in cars and vans, yelling, cheering… and waving the Iraqi flag.

Unfortunately, due to current circumstances, I got very worried that this may have something to do with events in Iraq or in the U.S. We are, I don’t need to tell any of you, at war with Iraq. Whether or not you agree with it (I don’t, but that’s not the point of this), I was faced with the image of Iraqis celebrating in the street while I was in another country. The implications are thus: if this street celebration were due to war-related events, there was a good chance that the border, located about a mile away from where we were at, would close. I would end up stranded in another country for a bit (a big bit, depending on the nature of the event). I like international travel, but I wasn’t in the mood for that.

In the end, the celebrations had nothing to do with the war. The Iraqis celebrating in the street were celebrating a victory, but one from the soccer field. Iraq beat the Saudis in their first ever Asia Cup.

It’s nice to see this kind of celebration and nationalism related to events that happen on the football field. It’s sad that circumstances forced me to think the worst at first.

Why can't we fight wars on the soccer field instead of on the battlefield? Perhaps we're heading that way. Did it ever occur to you that there may be an ulterior motive for our buying Beckham into the U.S.? Other than that he comes with a Spice Girl I mean? Maybe we're working toward building a soccer team to end war with.

I doubt it though. Even if that were the plan, with Iraq's victory, we're a long ways out from having a team to send out to win. Years probably. (Hmmm... then again, that sounds like the way things are anyway.)

That's a dilemma. Ask yourself this: if we could send a soccer team to Iraq tomorrow, to play and loe to Iraq, with the end result being everyone shaking hands and saying amicably, "You win, Iraq. You're clearly the better in this competition. We're going to pack up and head home." Wouldn't that be preferable than the loss of many more lives, both American and Iraqi, as this war trudges on. What if we could end the war that way, sans soccer team? Simply say, "you win," and go home.

Of course that won't work, though. Even if we could walk away now, we're obligated to help clean up the mess we made. When you were a kid, if you went over to someone's house to play, made a mess, and left without helping to clean up, you didn't get invited back. America doesn't want to be that kid. We're already the bully, among a bunch of other things.

Sorry, I didn't mean to get so political, so I'm going to end the post and regroup before I start talking about one of my favorite things - bikes and bike-related things.

Also, unrelated to this event, it took five minutes to get across the border into Canada, and close to an hour to get back in the U.S. That’s just the state of things right now.

Khan was a good dog

Khan
Originally uploaded by alpharat

Z just blogged that she no longer calls pit bulls by that name due to negative connotations (she calls them brindle bull terriers). It got me thinking about Khan, and how I wanted to mention him here briefly.

Khan was a friend's dog. He was a pit, or a brindle, or whichever you'd like to call him. Regardless of the name of his breed he was a big sweetheart.

He had some weird personality quirks. For example, in this photo, he was sitting in his owner's truck in the driveway during a barbecue. Why? He liked it. He loved to sit in the car. He sat there for an hour or so, watching the festivities go by, occasionally honking the horn and getting everbody's attention.

He was also the strongest dog I've ever known. He would routinely "play" with dumbbells that were so heavy that, as he ran around with them in his mouth he would be tilted forward, running only on his front legs, his back legs off the ground.

He also would let you pick him up like this:


So, yeah, this dog was all muscle, and intimidating because of it. He was also well-trained and very gentle with people and children. I could shove him out of the way on the couch, and know the only retaliation I'd get was him planting his butt down and going dead weight so I couldn't move him.

Khan was a good dog.

He passed away quietly in his sleep a few weeks ago. He was old; it was just time.

I'll miss him at the Dream Cruise Barbecue this year.

Breast Fest Goes Good!

60 Second Crush
Originally uploaded by alpharat

I know it's weeks after the fact, but Breast Fest made over $2,000. Dana from 60 Second Crush even played without her shirt in honor of the event (although as shown, electrical tape kept everything nice and legal...).


If you want to hear the way these guys tear it open, check out their Myspace page. I highly recommend the song "Murder In Ohio".

Edit: If you want to see video of them, here's their Electronic Press Kit video. It's not "Murder in Ohio", but it still rocks.

To serve and protect... those who can afford it.

There was a story in the newspaper yesterday that seems a little bit disturbing to me.

Essentially, the story is this: The City of Detroit wants to make its police officers available for rental. If you are a bar or club owner, or are promoting an event, you can hire police officers to come provide security.

What does this imply? If you own a club or bar, you are currently not offered police protection should you need it? Sure, your tax money pays for the police, but unless you actually hire them (which would mean that you’re now paying twice for police services), they don’t need to come if you call?

And here’s a scenario: What if you have an emergency and you call 911, and the nearest police officer is three doors down from your emergency, but can’t provide aid because he has been hired by a strip club for the evening, and is essentially owned by them? I would imagine you could always offer to pay him more than the bar is, but the negotiations might take even longer than the time it takes to find an officer who hasn’t been rented for the evening.

In certain areas of the world, places are run by people known as warlords. Many of these warlords are able to do so because of their wealth, which allows them to hire personal armies and police forces to maintain order in the way that best interests the warlord. How is this different? Isn’t the city offering its officers out as mercenaries?

By hiring a police officer, wouldn’t your business be protected in a way that meets its interest best? Wouldn’t an officer be more likely to accept your side of the story? Say, for example, one of your employees gets in a fight with one of your patrons. Sometimes (albeit rarely) the patron is not at fault in this situation. Perhaps the employee had taken a liking to the patron’s date, and decided that creating an altercation to get the patron removed would allow him to approach her. Perhaps the employee is simply a psychopath who wants to assault the patron.

If you’re a police officer called to the scene, it’s your responsibility to get both sides of the story and make a decision.

If you’re a police officer hired by the club, why wouldn’t it be in your best interest to simply side with the business? Especially if they’re paying well?

And what about wealthy private citizens? Are they going to be allowed to hire personal police escorts? That seems like it would definitely work to their favor in any situation.

To me, it’s one more facet of the crooked nature and financial desperation of the City of Detroit. If you don’t agree, you can get your own personal police mercenaries for $24-$34 an hour, depending on their rank. It’s an additional $50 hour if you want to police car, too. Hell, I bet if it’s your dime, they’ll even run the siren for you.

Two great features of Detroit

There have been tons of good times as of late. Not just the events of birthday week, which I will getting around to posting pictures of some day, there have been other random fun things.

Last night we went down to the Belmont to pick up some art pieces left over from the benefit. Ultimately, the pieces ended up being locked up somewhere, so we didn't get them, but we did drink a few (dozen) $.75 PBR drafts, and we got to eat dinner at Polish Village.

Polish Village is a very old-school type of place. It's a tiny little basement restaurant in Hamtramck and it's very cheap.

We got in there, and waited a few minutes for a table. The place is so tiny, that if the bar is full and you need to wait for a table, your only option is to mill about in the center of the dining room. Stuff like this just adds to the charm.

That, and the fact that they don't take debit cards. We had this exchange with the waitress:

Me: Do you take cards?
Waitress: No, cash only.
Me (toward TFN): Do you have any cash? I only have $20.
Waitress: That's probably enough. It's cheap here.
Me: Yes, but I want to have drinks, and I want to be able to tip you.
Waitress: We also take checks.

Who still takes checks? It just so happened that we had our checkbook, and were thus able to order whatever we wanted without looking at prices. We drank giant mugs of beer, and ate massive amounts of Polish home cooking, including cucumber salad, sausage, pierogi, saurkraut, mashed potatoes, stuffed cabbage and potato pancakes. The bill, before tip, was $20.72.

That's why I love the place.

Today at lunch, I wandered over to John K. King Books. That's another amazing place, and it's just a block from my office. The largest used bookstore in Michigan, the building is four stories, piled floor to ceiling with used books. One could spend many lunch hours there and not see it all. And that's just the stuff they have on the floor. Rumors of what's contained in their off-limits areas are also amazing, as this list indicates.

The store's occult books section conjurs up images of the library at Hogwart's, too.

Two little blurbs about two places that deserve much more notice, but that's all I'm feeling right now.

You're all kitten haters...

I know that I am a bit outdoorsy. I like to get out, ride in the woods, have bonfires, etc., and I do worry about the environment. I watched "An Inconvenient Truth" and did find it disturbing, but recent facts have come to light that have forced me to question that global warming could be good... or at least cute.

You see, Global Warming = Kittens. And we all like kittens.

Apparently, according to this story, the rise in temperatures equals longer breeding seasons for cats, which equals more kittens. So, if we were to fight global warming, it would equal less kittens, and that's bad by basic logic.

I mean, any little girl could figure it out. Just ask her (Let's use Pickles for example), "Pickles, what's better? More kittens or less kittens?" She's definitely going to answer "more kittens, please." (She's so polite!)

And she'd be right.

I can see the anti-environmental folks using this as an argument: "What, you're against global warming? What's the matter with you? Do you hate kittens? If you hate kittens, you must also love terrorists and hate America, too!"

Who can argue with that?

So, as a result of all this, I can only urge everyone to use their A/C and their heat at the same time, wage war between your humidifiers and your dehumidifiers, and drive bigger cars. I thank you, and the kittens thank you.

Then again, global warming could lead to our eventual demise, as we're smothered by a giant mass of kittens. What the hell, at least it would be a cute way to go.

The Apocalypse is coming... and it's fuzzy.

Give this guy an Oscar!

This is, without a doubt, the best five seconds of dramatic footage available anywhere on the Interwebs. This guy will be snubbed if he's not nominated for an Oscar. Or at least named Oscar. Oscar is a good name.

Click on it to watch. It's only 5 seconds long (but you'll be watching it repeatedly...)



For those of you who've asked, the benefit went very well, as did my birthday week. (Yes, it turned into a week-long celebration!) I do have photos from the benefit, as well as some birthday week photos, that I will post as soon as I can.

But tonight is the summer solstice, so that means loading the car up, heading north, letting the dog run on the beach, and celebrating the shortest night of the year by a fire. That's how we do it in these parts.

Limited Seating Available

Because you asked...



Red Corduroy with yellow walls doesn't look that bad.

Tired... AKA Rachael Ray is The Bomb

There has been considerable hemorrhaging of money out of our bank accounts as of late; in addition to all of the recent expenses, like the new furniture (which is arguably not a necessity, but you should see the state of the old furniture), we have purchased 12 tires in the past month.

Each of the cars needed a full new set, as did both of our mountain bikes. Again the bikes may not seem like a necessity, but we put so many miles on them on such adverse terrain and they were wearing smooth and slipping and were no longer safe. Besides, four mountain bike tires at the deal I got do not add up to the price of one automotive tire, so even as a luxury, it was minor one.

You expect so much more out of a big purchase than you get with a new set of tires on your vehicle. It seems anticlimactic. Granted, the cars are no longer hydroplaning on the flooded sections of road that are all too common right now due to excessive rain and sub par road construction, but it just feels like they should be doing something… more.

Additionally, the television died this morning. There is sound but no picture. It’s a 10-year-old set, and is due for replacement, as were the tires. But combine that with the fact that my car started making funny noises, we need a new roof this year, and also really need new siding and windows, and it looks like the flood of money outward won’t be ceasing in the immediate future.

Where am I going with this? I don’t know. Partly it’s a rant about the fact that everything seems to go at once. Partly it’s an observation that there is good reason that we’ll be staying in a lot in the foreseeable future (both to curtail spending and to enjoy recent home improvements). And partly it’s an opportunity to express my love of Rachel Ray.

(Bear with me, this goes somewhere)

I love Rachael Ray. I love her shows and her personality. She seems like the type of person that would be really fun to hang out with, and even more fun to cook with. It’s not a simple crush, mind you (which is why I avoided using one of her pinup shots from FHM with this, but they are readily available on the Interwebs if you are so inclined to find them), so much as a feeling that I think she’s incredibly awesome. Over the past few years, she has turned us onto such great dishes as her 30-minute Salisbury steak, herJambasta and just the other night, her Root Beer Bomb.

The Root Beer Bomb is essentially a root beer float with the addition of spiced rum. She calls for butter pecan ice cream, but we’ve been doing it with vanilla. I had never before considered the addition of rum to a root beer float, but it adds a little special something that makes staying at home on a hot summer night just a bit more bearable; it’s a decadent treat that is perfectly suited for sitting at home, watching TV (which I need to replace).

Drained

I was just reading a news story from Wisconsin that skeeved me out. Apparently a guy dropped his cell phone down the grate of a storm drain. He then lifted off the grate, and reached in to retrieve it. He pitched face first into the drain, where he became stuck, with his head and shoulders underwater, and drowned.

That's it in a nutshell (but you can read the story here, if you're so inclined), but you may not realize yet the part of the story that I found so disturbing. Sure, this was just a guy that I'll never know who did something stupid. These things happen, but if you do anything more than muster up a simple "Awwww..." everytime you read about the untimely demise of someone you don't know, you will be debilitatingly depressed all of the time. But in this case, the story had an element that I am upset by.

The storm drain.

I have this fear, well it's not so much a full-blown fear as it is a phobia, that I will accidentally drop my keys down a storm grate. When I am walking somewhere, and I have to step over a storm grate, my hand is in my pocket, maintaining a death grip on my keys. This way the keys are protected by both my grip and the pocket, and there is no way that storm drain will get the keys.

And it's that bad too, where I envision that not only is there a remote possibility that my keys could drop into the drain, but that the grate has somehow latched onto some basic primal sentience, that knows not good nor evil, but simply exists to hunger for my keys, and that it will do whatever it can to sway the fates in such a way as to get them, just as I take extra precaution to prevent it.

I don't know where I developed this fear. I don't know anyone who has ever dropped their keys in the drain. It just appeared one day. But, in the scheme of things, although it's odd, it's rather minor and doesn't maintain my focus for longer than the instant that I am stepping over the grate (or in this case, when I read about a guy who fell prey to the bloodlust of a storm drain), and I think I can deal with it sans therapy.

I Can See A Little Light

Life has been running rampant again, but at least it seems like it’s going somewhere for a while.

The benefit is this Saturday, and I am stoked about the quality of bands that are going to be playing. It’s going to be mad fun. The guys from Piel Plastica will be coming in from Chicago, and we’re putting them up. In honor of that event, we got new furniture.

OK, it wasn’t exactly in honor of that; our couch and loveseat have gotten a lot of mileage over the past ten years. The cushions had been flipped to hide threadbare spots long ago, and they were nearing the flipping point on the top layer as well. Countless people have surfed those couches, and the summer that TFN had a broken ankle we lived on them – her on the couch, me on the loveseat, feet draped over the arm. It was time to bring in furniture reinforcements.

We went to Ikea for the new pieces, and ended up with a red corduroy couch and loveseat. We were a little nervous that, when placed on our yellow walls, our living room would look even more like Romper Room, but the effect is actually very soothing and warm. After making two trips home from Ikea – they wanted $100 for delivery – with furniture hanging out the back of the wagon in a torrential downpour (they were wrapped in plastic and weathered the trip well), they have taken up residence. They have made it through the first night of vegging in front of the television – for the season premiere of Hell’s Kitchen, no less.

I am soooo glad that show is back on the air, even if it looks like this season’s cast is all really young. They don’t play well together, but it’s nice to see Chef Ramsay busting their heads. He made some people cry, which led me to use a literal “If you can’t take the heat” reference, but actually had Chef Ramsay tell the guy (who, at 48, is actually the veteran in the cast of kitchen folks who are mostly in their 20’s) to “Stop fucking crying!” Late he told the same guy, "Sir, do you mind just wiping the snot off your fucking face before we serve chicken and snot?" He’s eloquent. And a ball breaker. He rules.

I don’t like much Reality TV (although I am an enabler, having been an avid fan of the first two seasons of Survivor), but I am a sucker for the cooking ones.

But that’s enough about reality TV - back to reality.

Some other home improvements have been happening. The bathroom floor is tiled and the basement is tiled (moving me toward that ultimate dream of the basement bar), and furnished in perfect basement style with the beat up couch and loveseat that once populated our living room.

We’ve also been to a lot of shows as of late. Some have been awesome, some have been not so much. Some of the standouts that I have seen and you should check out, though, are Aqueduct, The Nekromantix, The Heart Attacks and Black Rebel Motorcycle Club.

That’s a fun part of working on my other site, but it can also be a pain. I know I’ve got no right to complain about all the shows I see for free, but I do like to have some evenings free, and when I go to these shows, I have a notebook in hand, where I frantically scribble notes, set lists, impressions and quotes. Sometimes I leave feeling like I missed some of the show.

TFN has it even worse, shooting some of the shows, wading into the crowds at the front of the stage, elbowing drunk punks out of the way to get shots, getting shoved around because she’s affording more protection to her camera than her physical self. It can be rough, but she’s damn good at it.

Sometimes, though, it’s nice to go to a show to see it, and not to cover it. Which is the case with Bob Mould.



Bob Mould is legendary. At one time he was the frontman for the West Coast hardcore band Husker Du (who are incidentally booming through my earbuds right now) and then he went solo. His songs are sweet and heartfelt. When we saw him at SXSW, which is where TFN’s photo is from, she actually had tears in her eyes. He’s an amazing performer.

When we found out he’s putting in an appearance at The Henry Ford, we made a decision. Rather than going to cover and shoot the show, we bought tickets and are going as fans. We’re going on a date, and we’re going to watch and stomp and cheer and sing along.

He’s amazing, check out this song:

Even with the physical rigors of shooting a show, it’s a tough decision for TFN to make. Some bands we choose to cover because she likes the opportunity and challenge of shooting them. Some bands, like one of my current favorites Valient Thorr are so energetic on stage that they afford an amazing opportunity for photos every time, like at SXSW when Wayne Kramer of the MC5 got on stage with them (that’s also a show that TFN hadn’t planned on shooting, but had her camera just in case). We ended up being the only publication with photos of the event, and the band has a video of it, which actually has TFN in the front, hoisting her camera.

Video evidence (That's her, front and center, camera in the air, 1:56 into the video, or at 1:02 on the countdown, depending on how it displays):


And here's one of the resulting photos:



Ciao!

The Breast Fest Is Back!

As per usual, I've been lax on posting here. It's not for lack of love, I've just been very busy. I have found myself in a multitude of projects and diversions, that range from getting out on my bike to tiling my basement, and include finding the best bar patio in Detroit, where one can sit in barbwire-enclosed safety, drinking High-Lifes and watching the world, such as it may be in that neighborhood, wander by. It's kind of like a post-apocalyptic zombie film sometimes.

And I've been working on the benefit again.

This year's benefit will be bigger and better than ever. It's all starting on May 30 with an art exhibition. A ton of Detroit artists and musicians have donated pieces for the gallery show, and all of the proceeds are going straight to the charity.

Then, on June 9, there will be the show. I am seriously excited about this year's lineup, and we've put together a great bunch of bands.

Check them out:

The Displays

Piel Plastica

Dutch Pink

60 Second Crush

As always, I am amazed when we put something like this together. Despite all of the work that goes into it, the 10 million emails, the plotting etc., there are so many people willing and wanting to help. I know a big part of it has to do with how many people's lives have been touched by breast cancer, but it's still really nice that people want to get involved.

And as an additional as always, I am still very indebted to D at The Belmont, for letting us take over his bar for the evening.

And that's the state of things right now. I wish I could promise to get better about posting more often in the forseeable future, but I know that basement ain't gonna tile itself (although I do promise some "after" pictures, even though I was too embarrassed for "befores"), nor is the High-Life going to drink itself.

Bananas

For what it's worth, Billie won. I had picked her before the race had even started, so I wasn't just going with the favorite. I just thought she was the cute one.

It's like when I picked Colleen Haskell to win the first season of Survivor. Colleen didn't win, but she did stick it out until close to the end.

I have a bit more to relate later, stuff that has nothing to do with turtles or cuteness, but for now I wanted to share what is possibly the best music video created EVER!

Turtles and Stuff

I like turtles. Just a few weeks ago, I told The Fabulous Nicole that we needed a turtle. She said no. Then I suggested we get two turtles, so that they could keep each other company and be even less work, but she also said no to this. I am still coming to terms with this (then again, this comes after a conversation a few years ago where she told me I could have Sea Monkeys once I proved that I could be responsible enough to care for them. A few years later, I still don't have Sea Monkeys, and don't even let's get started about the Ant Farm conversation...), but I think reality is setting in that I will never have my little turtles, obviously and unoriginally named Cowboy Pete and Linda "The Ragin' Cajun" Beauvier.

I even picked them out, too. These are my two turtles. I think they would make a very cute couple (Linda's the one with the pretty eyes):


Now, on the topic of turtles, I am currently watching a turtle race very closely. Unlike t your average run-of-the-mill turtle races that they show on ESPN 4 on Saturday afternoons, this is the big one. It's the Great Turtle Race.

Every year, the Leatherback Turtles (well, the girl ones anyway) go to Costa Rica and lay eggs. Then, when they're done, they head back to the Galapagos. The first one backs gets a wide selction of valuable cash and prizes. The grand prize last year was a Ford Escort, this year it's an upright washer and dryer and a billiards table. But as in all events in this circuit, the real prize is bragging rights. And lucrative sponsorship deals. And a cut in some certain illicit businesses.

At any rate, this year the turtles allowed themselves to be tagged in order to expose the seedy underbelly of this event, which apparently has so many side bets going on that a lot of underhanded stuff goes on. Apparently, someone in previous years had even paid to have a shark hit put on one of the favored contenders prior to its start. Nobody was pinned with it, but not many people will forget watching the starting ceremonies last year when the camera caught the surprised look on one of the racer's faces when the racer who had avoided the hit in question showed up defiantly at the starting line, security entourage in tow.

That's just how serious they are.

The Great Turtle Race kicked off two days ago, and my pick Billie is currently in 3rd, but she's not that far back and it's a long race; a lot can happen over the next few weeks.

Dreaming Of Venice

Venice
Originally uploaded by alpharat.

It's been several months since our Italy trip, bit I still dream of Venice almost every night. When I'm asleep, I'm wandering the tiny streets, walking over canals, sitting outside wine bars and findig restaurants in dark alleys. I'm running breathlessly over bridges with my friends, all of us drunk on wine and wearing elaborate masquerade masks, and there is this wonderful pervading feeling of restless exhaustion, moving for the simple sake of the joy of movement, no matter how long previously I've been moving, no matter how tired I am, just because moving feels too good to stop.

I smiled to myself when I was at Trader Joe's last. They sell a frozen torte dessert called "Dreaming of Venice". I didn't pick it up; we don't do sweets at our house, but I hope the concoctor (Is that a word? You know, meaning "one who concocts"?) behind this treat took a similar trip to mine and suffers the same affliction, where they wake up each morning and can't get that city out of their head.

Snappy Copy Gets You Everywhere... Even Into Heaven

church sign
Originally uploaded by alpharat.

Church signs interest me, simply because I've often wondered where they get the ideas for their signs. Some of them are quite thought-provoking, and some are just plain punny.

I'd wondered if there was a newsletter or organization that supplied churches with their marquee ideas. I didn't think that each church had its own copywriter that supplied them with their signs, simply because churches probably couldn't afford a freelancer week after week, and volunteers wouldn't be so consistent either. Plus, if you live in an area with multiple churches, you'll see them start to repeat, and one would hope the churches weren't stealing them from one another, because of that whole commandment thing.

Well, now I know the truth. Apparently there are books on this sort of thing. Here's one. You should pick it up if you own a church. If you don't own a church, there's probably not much use in it, though.

Stabbing the Cat

Cat in a bowl
Originally uploaded by alpharat.

Just after Zilla did this post about getting cats in to the vet, we took the Bean in for a doctor's appointment. She had been drinking large amounts of water and we thought it may be her kidneys or diabetes.

A trip to the vet is no small production when it comes to the Bean. If you don't know Miss Mina, you don't know what a handful she can be, and that's putting it lightly. Several years ago, one vet sedated her just to give her an exam. This was after she lunged at him when he came into the room. She was still swiping at him while she was under sedation. She was swiping veeeeery slowly, but she was technically unconscious at the time. After her recovery, I had to go to the back room to retrieve her after she cornered a nurse.

We have since found a vet that can handle her, but even at this vet, when she went in for bloodwork this time, had her squealing and kicking and spitting. He told us that she was "a strong little girl". Of course, once she was returned to my arms, she calmed down but continued to shoot the death glare at the doctors and nurses, just daring them to try that move again.

The Bean's test came back showing that she is diabetic (which surprised the doctor, who thought she had too much energy to be diabetic, but he didn't understand her capacity for evil), and requires twice daily insulin injections. Normally, the vet would keep her there, to monitor her blood sugar until they got it exact, but her vet confessed that they can't handle that, so they've released her to our care, with weekly visits until she's evened out. It's cheaper this way to be sure, and while I don't relish loading her up to go to the vet once a week, my little princess is going to have an easier time of it, and is less likely to kill a vet while in my presence.

To add further insult, she got so worked up that she peed in the crate on the way home from the vet, subjecting herself to a bath when we got home, and to me calling her "Pee Cat" for the rest of the evening, which only served to further sour her mood. Additionally, as she is wont to do, after her three recent visits to the vet, her first course of action upon arrival back at home is to seek out the dog and punch him in the mouth. I don't know if she is taking out her aggression or simply ensuring that the natural order of things has remained in effect during her brief absence, but it's what she does.

I never wanted a cat, and we didn't seek out Miss Mina. She walked into a party at Nicole's apartment when we were in college and has been a part of our home for the past 13 years. She sleeps in a giant purple bowl in the middle of the living room floor, and is a little ray of sunshine for Nicole and I, even though she would like to destroy much of the rest of the Western World. I don't know what things would be like without her, and I am very attached to her, so you do what needs to be done. The shots aren't bad; she doesn't even flinch. It will put a damper on travelling for the foreseeable future, but this is the responsibility you take on as a pet owner.

So that's where we are with our little "pee cat". Things will return to normal and, like Wilford Brimley, she'll deal with her sugar diabetes and be a part of our life for quite a few more years.

Are you experienced? And if so, is it good? (AKA - the connection between produce stands and Web design explained)

Sunday morning, Westborn Market, Royal Oak:

Have you ever had one of those great grocery shopping days? This was one. After a visit to Trader Joe’s - a must for a wide variety of inexpensive organic foods (Zilla, I even picked up a boxed spelt dish, just out of tribute to you!), high-quality reasonably priced fish and a large selection of very good table wines for under $10 and often under $5 - we had made our way to Westborn Market for produce.

Given the choice, I prefer to go to Detroit's Eastern Market for produce. Everything is fresher, mostly organic, and cheaper. Plus it's just more fun to wander an open-air market, buying your produce from stalls, than it is going to a store. But we didn't have the time to go to the market this day.

It was one of those perfect shopping experiences. There was great music, with Lily Allen and The Decemberists playing on the in-store P.A. There were awesome samples of gourmet cheese throughout the store, enough that we pretty much had lunch there, and the place is just laid out beautifully, with heaps of great-looking produce, and a gourmet deli where we snagged a couple of pre-made chef salads to carry for lunch today.

As I was standing next to the coffee area, smelling the wonderful way the fresh bourbon pecan roast smelled, I remarked to Nicole that this store offered up a fantastic user experience. Her reply, after she laughed at my comment, was, "why don't you improve your user experience by going over there and getting some green onions?"

That's an inside joke that maybe only those in the ad/design industries will appreciate, but "user experience" really is a big deal to everyone, even if they don't realize what it is. Specifically, it's often used to relate to Web sites, but it essentially relates the idea that it doesn't matter how great something is if the people who use it don't enjoy using it, or can't use it easily.

Ergonomics is a similar idea, but less of an abstract ideal than user experience. Think about how user experience works for you. Think about those stores that have great products or great prices, but you hate visiting because you can't find anything or because the salespeople aren't helpful. Or those restaurants with great food but lousy service (or vice versa). The Secretary of State's Office with its long lines and indifferent employees, and even that road that gets you to work or school each day but is always under construction or crippled to a snail's pace by traffic. All of these are things that offer bad user experiences.

I really think that anyone who's in a field that doesn't deal daily with the concept of user experience could really benefit by taking a seminar on the idea (But not a boring seminar. Boring seminars offer a... that's right... a bad user experience). Imagine if more places realized that not only should they offer a service, but they should offer that service in a simple and pleasant fashion? Do you realize how less stressful things would be if that was the focus?

When in Rome...

When in Rome...
Originally uploaded by alpharat.

Do as the... ummm Texans do. In this case, it involves drinking Lone Star ("The National Beer of Texas") and singing along to Gary Glitter on the jukebox.

I'm a stickler.

Apparently I stickle.

That's what I was informed of by the Eats, Shoots & Leaves quiz.

I am OK with this. It's not bad to be a stickler when it comes to punctuation, grammar and spelling, and I got 100% on the quiz.

It's not totally inherent, to be sure. When I am working quickly, hammering out a post in a few free moments, a "to" instead of a "too" will slip by, or a "your" instead of a "you're". That's out of working quickly, rather than not knowing any better.

Which is probably worse when you think about it - committing an error I know better than to do. For example, you'd never ever EVER catch me saying that I "should of" done something. I hate that one over all. So why is it OK for me to make the random mistake?

Because I'm human I guess, and I know that with some extra time and care, it could be perfect. It's something to strive for, and an easy one, too. I'll save that goal for when I'm really down on myself. For now, I've got other stuff to strive for, so I'm not "to" worried about the grammar and punctuation in this blog.

At any rate, you can take Truss' test here. And if you haven't read Eats, Shoots & Leaves, you should.

And yes, we're back from Austin and SXSW. I have some photos and stuff to share for sure, but I've got to work on this site first.