Afishionados,

I’ve been out of town for the past couple of days on a road trip to Kentucky. Why the hell would anyone ever go to Kentucky? Why, to visit the Creation Museum of course! Actually, no, that’s not it at all. I won’t drop $20 on some Christian propaganda ‘museum’ until the Reverend Anaglyph comes for a visit. Then I’ll buy two tickets.

My adventure began Friday afternoon, when I left Ohio and headed to my shithole hotel. Kentucky, apparently, never gets tourists because their hotels are about as nice a place to stay as Guantanamo Bay Resort (Remember, it’s not a ‘prison’ because then we’d be held to the terms of the Geneva Convention and we’re Americans and above the law so there).

Upon arrival, the most pierced woman in all of Kentucky signed me in and gave me my room keys. At least, I think it was a woman. It was hard to tell because of all the piercings and because it was Kentucky and a lot of the women there are scary looking. She also had a difficult time speaking correctly because of her tongue piercing(s?). “Thine here, pleath. Thankth. Here are your room keyth. Pleath enjoy your thtay.” I wonder how she escaped the circus and got hired at the hotel.

Not long after arriving, my stepsister Ly and her husband called, ready to meet up for our big night out on the town in fabulous Covington, Kentucky. Happy for any excuse to leave the hovel hotel, I quickly got into my car and headed to the Madison Theater.

I have been known to attend a Missy Higgins concert from time to time to time. And when Missy decides to have a show a mere 45 minutes from my house… well… How could I possibly refuse?

Ly, brother-in-law, and myself arrived at the Madison Theater early, and set out in search of a place to eat. Just down the street was a small hole in the wall diner which looked friendly enough, so we stopped in for a bite. As it turns out, we weren’t the only three people hoping to eat before the concert.

Missy Higgins, Dave Symes (bass guitarist), and Ben Edgar (guitarist) were all seated together. I’ve been corresponding with Ben for a while now, so I walked up and started talking to them. I had emailed Ben prior and warned told him I’d be seeing him at the Covington show, and we’d made plans to hang out for a bit after. The three of us shared a small conversation, mostly about the iPhone of all things. Seems Missy’s a fan and has one of her own.

While I am always excited to see Missy sing, I think Ly was much more nervous in the diner that I was. “I really want a photo with her but I don’t want to bug her,” she said.

“Just ask her for one when they get up to leave.”

“But I don’t want to bother her.”

“Fine. Let me know when they get up to leave and I’ll ask her for you.”

About twenty minutes go by. Missy, Ben, and Dave get up to go.

“Hey, Missy, my sister would like a photo with you but is too afraid to ask, so can I ask you for one?”

Ly goes red, Missy goes, “Sure!”

Not one to miss an opportunity myself, I snagged another photo, too.

The show, as always, was superb. After the show, Ly, her husband, and I all hung out for a while and chatted with Ben. He’s a great guy, very nice and very down to earth. Afterward, Ly and her husband drove back to Ohio and I returned to my slum. The next morning, I woke up, packed my car, and headed for home.

Actually, I am completely lying about that last bit. I didn’t head home at all. Hell, no! I headed another hour in the complete opposite direction! WHAT!? Why would I do that!? Why, to visit Louisville and see Missy and the gang perform at the Phoenix Hill Tavern is why!

Despite a huge crowd of loud, obnoxious women behind me, the show was quite good. The Phoenix Hill Tavern was a nice venue, as I was able to get very close seating and free parking. Missy’s tour bus was parked in the same lot as my car, and on the way back I saw Ben and Dave chatting with some friends and fellow fans. Ben motioned me over, and so I hung out with the ‘crew’ for a while. It wasn’t long before more fans showed up and convinced Missy to emerge from her bus and sign some autographs and pose for some photos. I know how excited I was in Chicago last year when I waited in line for the same opportunity, so I waited patiently with the band and waited for the crowd to thin. Finally, when she was alone, I had the chance to talk to Missy again. Maybe it was because this was my 8th time seeing her perform, but for whatever reason it really felt like I had seen some friends perform rather than an Australian celebrity. Truth be told, I wasn’t even all that nervous talking to her, and we passed the time chatting as her gear was being loaded up. We talked about her music, her tour, and her success as a singer. I also found out (though probably not surprisingly after 8 shows) that she recognizes me in the crowd and at the very least knows my name.

I’ve yet to encounter an Australian that wasn’t one of the nicest people I’ve ever met (except Anaglyph, that guy’s a total asshole). I’m sure ‘bad’ ones are out there, but in my experience they’re all very friendly and fun to be around.

Unlike people from Kentucky…

The paperwork for the Big D has been filed, finalizing what I’ve been waiting for since June of 2007. As part of the agreement, Herbie will be going back to Washington state to live out the rest of his days without me. So sad.

I loved cars as a kid, especially Herbie the love bug. A tenacious car with a mind of its own and a penchant for adventure and trouble. What’s not to love? I think it was the Herbie movies that attracted me to Volkswagens in the first place.

The New Beetle had captivated my attention since it went on sale in 1998. It’s hard to believe that it’s been 10 years since its debut to the public. The first one my family owned was a 2000 GLS. It was silver, had a manual transmission, and a really sweet tape deck. “The Pod”, as it was later christened (complete with vanity plates stating so), belonged to my younger stepsister, Ly¹.

She used to let me ride with her once in a while (read: all the time), especially if it was dark out and none of her friends could see me hanging out with her in public. We had many a good time in that car, and I have a lot of fond memories. Some of my favorites include:

Watching Ly hook up the kick-ass CD player via the cigarette lighter and tape adapter to listen to a song at the loudest possible audible level known to mankind only to change to a completely different song a mere 30 seconds into it.

Going to Taco Bell at 2 A.M. during their 39 cent taco days, ordering 30 tacos, then paying with a bag full of pennies.

Watching Ly attack crash into a shopping cart in an otherwise empty grocery store parking lot at 15 MPH. “I didn’t see it,” she said. How can you miss a shopping cart directly in front of you in an empty parking lot?

My first “real” car (meaning, my first new one and not some used clunker) was a red 2002 New Beetle. I got it in college. It had absolutely no optional features aside from an automatic engine. Hand crank windows, baby! OH YEA! But it was mine, and I loved it.

At one point in time, we actually had as many as four New Beetles, a Jetta, and two Touaregs in the family. That’s a lot of Volkswagens to have in your driveway at family get togethers.

I have always wanted to make a Herbie out of a New Beetle, and in 2005 I did just that. At least, sort of. A dealership in South Carolina had a GLS on the lot that was done up like Herbie. Apparently no one was interested in the car because it hadn’t sold or had many potentially interested customers. This was also during the year end sales event, when the redesigned 2006 bugs had just come out. The E.B.² and I were in the market for a new car. Herbie had every option available at the time (with the exception of traction control) installed. It really was Herbie: Fully Loaded, so to speak. We got a good deal on him, and so Herbie was purchased.

It’s been one of the most fun cars I’ve ever owned or driven. One of my favorite hobbies in Charleston was to clean up Herbie on the weekend, drive down to the battery, park him, and watch the tourist’s reactions. The overseas tourists were always the most fun, as most seemed to have no idea why the car was made to look like a race car or what the stripes and “53″ were all about. One time a news van even pulled up and shot some footage of the car, though I never saw it make the television broadcast.

Driving onto military bases in a New Beetle done up like Herbie is also something that I will never forget. The car was a total chick magnet in Charleston (sexy southern women love Herbie, apparently) but driving into security gates with armed guards was completely different. The faces of the guards were often priceless, as they weren’t quite sure how anyone in the military could drive a Herbie bug. But even armed men and women in uniform can’t hide a smirk or a chuckle from such an iconic symbol such as Herbie. Whether they’d admit it or not, I think they liked it, too.

Within a month, however, Herbie is going away. I have mixed feelings about this, as I’ve grown quite attached to the little car and I like the attention that it receives. In the end, though, it really is just a car with decals, and not worth fussing over, especially if relinquishing it grants me my freedom.

So, since Herbie is west coast bound, I’m left to get a new vehicle. I’m not so starry-eyed for the Volkswagen brand anymore (and no VW could ever top the fun I’ve had with Herbie), so Volkswagen was out this time around. Instead I’m going with a Toyota, because people that own them really love them, they’re highly rated by Consumer Reports, and, according to a lot of car magazines and “experts”, they’re better built than most cars and last longer than the competition.

Well, I didn’t go with Toyota exactly. I went with a Scion, but they’re made by Toyota. Since I don’t have any money, my options were pretty limited. Unfortunately, most “affordable” cars are poorly manufactured, have very little standard features, and are hideously ugly or plain looking.

I’ve always liked the look the the Scion tC. I looked at getting one around the same time that I shopped for Herbie, but the car hadn’t been out long enough to get any sense of quality or reliability so I passed. The car has been out for sometime now, and it’s gotten pretty good praise. So far, I’m really happy with it.

Plus, the standard features and price are hard to beat. The tC comes standard with:

1.) Integrated iPod control - plug in your iPod and control it through the car’s stereo system.

2.) Retractable sunroof and rear “mini sunroof” - the whole ceiling of the car is glass, and the front part of the sunroof opens. The backseat gets one, too, but it doesn’t open. Still, a rear “roof window” is neat.

3.) 17″ Alloy wheels - Not steel rims with a plastic hubcap. I hate those.

4.) Cruise control - Perfect for those Chicago trips to see Missy Higgins!

5.) Subwoofer - Sure, it’s not the greatest sub in the world, but it’s still adds a lot of bass to the stereo system. I don’t even know if any other cars in the same class as the Scion offer a subwoofer as standard.

6.) Lots of airbags - Even has side curtain airbags to protect my delicate head.

7.) Keyless entry - Inserting the key into the side of the door is so 1990s.

8.) 60/40 fold down rear seats - The Beetle had a collapsable rear seat, but it didn’t split. Sometimes you don’t need the whole backseat to fold down.

9.) Halogen headlights - Great for getting behind idiots and blinding them for driving like morons.

And while I’m certainly not going to win any races, the 161 HP engine is a very welcome step up from Herbie’s standard and ultimately subpar 115. It’s also supposed to get better gas mileage than the Beetle, but I’ve yet to verify this for myself.

I like the look, I like the features, and I like the price (less than $19,000). There are some amenities from Herbie that I will miss, but I think this is the best car for my lack of buck right now.

So, with a new car and my freedom, on to bigger and better things!

¹Pronounced “Lee”. Name changed to protect the privacy of the more innocent than me.
²Evil Bitch

I am taking a typography class this quarter and I’ve got another instructor who won’t allow the use of computers in her class. This rule continues to drive me insane, and I continue to flex it in my favor when I can get away with it.

The professor has a reputation for being the most difficult instructor in all of the graphic design instructor, and I often think that she’s let it go to her head. So far, my impression isn’t that she is difficult at all, just demanding and fast paced. She also looks exactly like Cuba Gooding Junior. I don’t mean that she looks a little like him. No, she looks JUST like him, sans the mustache (at least, as much as I can tell from a distance).

Our latest project is to take a photo of ourselves, trace a detailed outline of it (think coloring book) and come up with 20 or so words that describe us and the message about us that we wish to portray. Then, using various fonts, align the letters and characters to create a realistic image of us based on the tracing.

The catch is, you can’t use a computer, which includes finding and using your own fonts. No, you have to go to the library and find books with fonts and photocopy them. Or you can find fonts from magazines or other printed materials. No computer? Photocopies? Haven’t we already done this in 2D design?

I have more than 2000 fonts in my collection, WAY more than ANY book is going to show you. I tried to plead my case to Cuba, asking only if I could print off the font and then lay it out by hand. I didn’t even mention using the computer other than to find fonts that I liked. Her response was this:

“No, because it has to be a level playing field for everyone. You might have 2000 fonts on your computer, but so and so might only have 200. It has to be fair.”

What? Fair? So Sally Suckemsilly can go to the library, check out a book, therefore preventing me from checking out and using said book, but I can’t use fonts on my own computer? And, honestly, if Sally wanted the same font and couldn’t find it, I’d GIVE her a copy of it, too. What the hell? And how is photocopying a layout of a font ANY different than printing off the same layout on a laser jet printer? How many graphic designers out there photocopy fonts, lay them out by hand, then Photocopy them to produce a final piece? Can ANYONE explain this to me? Seriously, I want to meet a graphic designer in today’s world who doesn’t use a computer and only uses books and photocopiers.

I had hoped this quarter’s classes would provide some kind of challenge. Instead, they’ve proven the professors are mentally challenged.

Another Christmas has come and quietly gone. I can’t say that it was bad, but the holiday seems to have lost the majority of its charm and magic since my childhood, and continues to lose what little is left with the passing of each year.

Family and friends were more scattered this year than in the past, and not seeing everyone makes the festivities that much more melancholy. Christmas provides no religious merit for me whatsoever, but I do like seeing and spending time with loved ones. The food at Christmas is always good, and this year was no exception. And having a day off from the world… well, it’s difficult to complain about that, too.

I am terrible when it comes to giving presents and it’s rare that I can think of the “perfect gift” for anyone. I made an effort to put a little more thought into most people’s presents this year, though there are just some really cheap bastards in my family who aren’t deserving of much (if anything) at all because they’re not even grateful for what they already have.

As for myself, I didn’t really ask for anything but the gifts that I did receive were welcome ones, and nobody could buy me what I truly want anyway. Some things just can’t be placed in a pretty little package and sealed with a bow, and so that which I want most continues to elude my grasp.

2007 was a terrible year (with the utmost exception in regards to the weekend of October 7th, of course) and I will be very happy when it is over. I look to 2008 with great intention. The spring, especially, is rumored to be well worth the wait and I am always up for another road trip.

I hope that all of you got whatever it is you sought most throughout this holiday season, and I hope that the new year brings you that much more.

Happy Holidays!

Afishionados,

This post comes with fine print. You must agree to the following terms and conditions before reading this post. If you do not agree, click here to go to a happy place.

By reading this post you agree with everything written, said, and/or posted on this blog. By reading this post you acknowledge that you might be one of (though certainly not limited to) the following:

Article I.

1. An Ubercunt.
2. An alcoholic.
3. An Evil Bitch.
4. A drug addict.
5. An absolute waste of human life.
6. A vindictive asshole.
7. A hypochondriac.
8. A liar.

By printing this post or any part of Old Fish and Lemonade and mailing it to ANY attorney you agree to ALL of the following:

Article II.

1. You agree to pay me $15,000 in cash.
2. You’re not worthy of the air you breathe.
3. Everything that I say is always right.
4. You’re completely incapable of doing anything for yourself because you can’t stand up to your parents.
5. I am absolutely fucking awesome.

If you do not agree with ALL of the above you are in violation of the terms and conditions hereby in effect immediately by order of the Awesome King as of this moment on Friday, November 30th in the year of our Lord 2007.

These terms and conditions do not apply to “Fellow Inmates” with the exception of Article II: Section 5.

::Whew:: Sorry about that. It seems that my Fairy Tale post has ruffled some feathers so I had to add a disclaimer for this one. Now, on with the post. And remember, NO PRINTING AND MAILING to attorneys without agreeing to the terms and conditions of this blog. Any similarities to persons or things in real life, no matter how guilty those persons or things’ consciences may be, is pure coincidence.

Once upon a time in Magical Happy Land there lived an Evil Bitch. She was annoying, had short hair, and hunched a lot.

The Evil Bitch could never do anything without the permission of the mentally unstable Ubercunt. No matter how much she thought she was independent, the Evil Bitch was not capable of thinking for herself or making decisions on her own, for fear of upsetting the Ubercunt. Upsetting the Ubercunt would only lead to panic attacks, severe dramatic upchucking, and a fast, albeit pointless, trip to the Room of Emergency.

One day, the Ubercunt got it in her head to continually pester the Awesome King by making shit up and sending him copies of his fairy tales by means of a Loiyar. Though the Ubercunt considered herself a super hero, the reality is that she was nothing more than a fat Ubercunt in really bad tights.

One of the claims of the Ubercunt and the Evil Bitch was that the Awesome King had been “text messaging derogatory messages” to the Ubercunt’s phone. This was not at all true, however, and the Awesome King would be MORE THAN HAPPY AND WILLING to submit the last few records of his cell phone statements as proof. After all, the Awesome King only gets 200 text messages a month with His Majesty’s Service Plan, and why would he waste them on the Ubercunt when he’s since met so many beautiful women at college and work?

The Ubercunt and the Evil Bitch also feared that a specific line from the Awesome King’s Fairy Tale was a threat to their life. “If only they could be silenced forever”. The Awesome King was confused by their reaction to a fictitious tale, and certainly never planned to take the lives of anyone. Especially not with gas at $3.15 a gallon. Sadly, the Ubercunt and Evil Bitch were gravely mistaken if they thought that the Awesome King cared enough to travel so far to do such things. No, children, the Awesome King would never do that. The Awesome King never meant it as a death threat. But no one ever said that the Ubercunt or the Evil Bitch were intelligent and that the Awesome King’s schedule certainly did not revolve around them and their guilty consciences.

In the end, the Awesome King also reminded the Ubercunt and the Evil Bitch that there existed, even in Magical Happy Land, the Bill of Rights. The Bill of Rights happened to include the First Amendment, which states:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

This gave the Awesome King the ability to continue to write his fictitious stories and share them with his followers and admirers throughout all of Magical Happy Land.

And so, the Awesome King continued to live a happier life with his newfound friends from school and work and the memories of much, MUCH happier times.

Afishionados,

My sister, her husband, and their children are in town for the Thanksgiving holiday weekend. My nephew is 4 and my niece is 1-and-a-half. I love them and usually it’s good to see all of them, but there are moments when I wish that the kids were still in Cleveland where they belong. For example:

My nephew, Austin, is mostly potty trained. I say mostly because he can do everything except wipe his own ass. A skill that, in my opinion, is essential to human survival and one that everyone should possess. Unfortunately, Austin hasn’t quite reached this milestone yet.

A few days ago, I found myself alone in the house with just Austin and Kevin, my other sister’s fiance’. Kevin and I were sitting at the kitchen table surfing the Internet when Austin decided to run like hell to the bathroom (which is just outside the kitchen) and shut the door. Aside from the speed at which the child had moved, I didn’t think much of it. And then the door slowly creaked open, and the a small, squeaky voice announced, “Uncle Atlas, I pooped!”

At first I thought that perhaps Satan was just a soprano and was playing an evil trick on me. And then the voice spoke again. “Uncle Atlas, I said I poooooooooooooped!” I looked at Kevin and he looked at me. His ashen face was like that of a deer’s just mere moments before a van drives into it at 100 MPH.

“Not it,” he said to me as Austin continued to stand in the doorway, pants around his ankles and continuing with the updated status reports of what he had just accomplished.

Kevin is a doctor and a future pediatrician. Apparently, the noxious fumes from Austin’s festering floaters had permeated his brain, causing cell damage and creating a momentary lapse in memory and judgment. Clearly, Kevin was misinformed. And so I took it upon myself to correct his misguided outlook.

“I’m a graphic designer. You’re the pediatrician. If Austin needs crayons or coloring books, I’m there for him. But if there’s chunks in his cheeks, that’s your line of work. Start wiping.”

In the end (no pun intended), Austin wiped his own ass and Kevin gave a thorough inspection. Austin had done just fine by himself, washed his hands, and stepped out from the bathroom. As he approached the table, I congratulated him on his success. “Good job, Austin. Today, you became a man!”

I had a similar experience with Austin this past summer, when I really was the only one (besides him) in the house. My sister and my mother had gone out shopping, and Austin told me that he had to poop. So I did what any paranoid man would do: I sent a text message to both their cell phones.

“Austin has to poop. Come home soon.”

Thankfully, my ingenious plan worked and they arrived within minutes. Of course, I was prepared and had a backup plan in place. If mom and sis had not returned in time, Austin would have been stripped naked and placed safely and securely in a bathtub full of water until someone (anyone) came home.

Afishionados,

Things are going better now, though they could still be better. Thanks for your support in my last post, I appreciate it. I wish that I didn’t have to miss Talk Like a Pirate Day because I took a cool photo for it, but I suppose it will just have to wait til next year.

I spotted this today and thought it was shareworthy:

I hope that I have cleared up everyone’s confusion.

Afishionados,

It seems that my Gamble with the Nerds paid off. A letter arrived a couple days ago stating that I got a B on that stupid Mac test. I like to think that I am more than 80% competent when it comes to Macs, but the Gods of College hath spoken.

School starts for me tomorrow, which probably means less time for blogging in the coming months (I won’t go away, though, no matter how much kicking and screaming AngryMan does). Mondays and Wednesdays are my busy days, and Thursdays I only have one class, but it’s in the evenings. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday are play days. Chances are good that it will be one of these three days when I continue my ritual of visiting each and every one of your blogs in the nude.

After all the boring-as-shit Navy Nuclear Power courses, I tried to make this semester as enjoyable as possible. No boring math or English, just computer courses that I want to take. I’m going for graphic design, since that is what most interests me, and all my courses are involved with that.

Of course, nothing could be as fun as my continuing education over at the Polanski University. I seem to do a lot of Photoshopping over there.

Afishionados,

Today was the best day that I’ve had in a really long time.

I spent the whole day with my sister, her husband, and my mom. We all went shopping at the mall and bought new clothes. I haven’t really bought any new clothes since joining the Navy, so I needed an update. I should look pretty good for school when I start in the fall.

My laptop has always had a black pixel out on the screen, which really has never bothered me too much. Until two days ago, when the little bastard decided to turn BRIGHT FUCKIN’ GREEN ALL THE TIME. It looked like this:

Annoying. Why did that pixel decide to “wake up”? Stay BLACK if you must, but not GREEN! Or red. Or blue. That’s the problem with technology these days: everything uses LCDs so you’re always at risk for having a stuck or dead pixel.

I called my local Apple store and they wouldn’t replace a screen because of one stuck pixel. Lucky me. Fortunately, an independent Apple retailer in my area also fixes Apple computers. And they DID replace the screen for me. They also did it in less than 48 hours, which is faster than ANY turnaround time I have ever experienced directly from Apple. It’s a brand new store and all the folks that work their are friendly. I want to take them all donuts for helping me out.

I’ve been keeping really busy lately, too. Tomorrow it’s off to Cleveland to help sis and husband with unpacking their stuff into their new apartment. As long as there’s beer, we’ll be fine.

I’ve also got something cookin’ in the OFAL Laboratory. I’m working on an Internet project and testing it out with some friends. I’ve put a lot of work into it, and I think it could be really big. The graphics still need some work and it’s not quite ready for prime time. But I can say that it’s powered by WordPress and should have a bigger following than Old Fish and Lemonade. I’m excited. (Not that OFAL is going anywhere, mind you. This project is totally separate.)

Stay tuned!

Afishionados,

I don’t know what’s happening with me today, but I have been awake and sick since 6:00 A.M. with dry heaves and other fun, bodily mishaps. I feel okay other than the hurling from one end and, well… some other nasty feature at the other.

I’m so thirsty that I think I’d even drink water from the pool at this point, but I can’t keep anything down. Water, 7-Up, oatmeal… Nothin’. It all comes back to visit me again (and again, and again).

It even takes all my energy to type this out. Wish I could keep something down, I would LOVE an iced tea. Hopefully that presidential nominee Polanski’s health care plan will help me in the future.

Time for another nap,

JediMacFan