It seems as if each May things around these parts slow down to a crawl. Reading through the archives from last year, there is a distinct lack of anything worthy of reading. This makes me sad.

When you decide to publish something that others can see and follow, there develops a certain expectation to be reliable. Sporadic writing means a loss of readership, as most don’t have the desire to check in daily to see if something new has been posted (percentage-wise, those that follow along via RSS are relatively few). I know that over the past six years, I’ve stopped tracking many a writer’s work because they seemingly flaked out. In reality, though, I’m sure their lives just got in the way.

Blogging, for all the stupidity that this term encompasses, is an unruly beast. The grand majority of those that decide to take their inner-monologues online end up abandoning their endeavors early on. Perhaps saddened by the lack of readers or maybe just realizing that they didn’t quite have as much to say as they initially thought, the abandoned domains stand as virtual ghost towns, dotting the internet landscape. I’m proud that denyingphoenix has lasted five years, and that I’ve been able to turn it into something that holds a meager yet respectable following. The process of writing each week has helped me in numerous ways that have positively influenced other areas of my life and work (which was the original intent). But when May hits, things get rocky.

The best that I can surmise is that there is a correlation between newly warmed weather and this absence of content. No, I’m not out skipping around in the sun, frolicking and soaking up the sunlight (hello? I’m bonafide Irish, ergo I get a crispy burn within approximately 2.4 seconds). Instead, I fear that the warmer weather means a rush of work to be done around the house. From yard maintenance to garage cleaning, deck staining to washing the siding…there is far too much to be done, in a very short amount of time. And the amount of space in my pea brain that is usually reserved for idea formulation for denyingphoenix is now occupied by these to-do lists. Morning commutes are no longer spent mulling over life in an attempt to extract a story, but instead spent chastising myself for forgetting to water the hanging ferns. (Note to self: do this when you get home).

So while each May it seems as if I forget all about this tiny little mental parking lot, I don’t. I’m plagued by a hefty amount of guilt because of this negligence, but we’ll just give it time. In a few weeks, things will settle down, I’ll hit my stride, and I’ll be back to having a steady flow of poorly-written, ill-conceived stories that likely entertain but a few of you. And hopefully Jonas will do something more interesting than learning how to rip the tops of our fence posts off, because that is so not worth writing 1000 words about.

Last week, a very good friend of mine graduated from a very expensive great university after four years of hard work. It was a close call, as this very intelligent young man almost convinced himself that going to graduation wasn’t worth it, that it was pointless and that it didn’t mean anything. He was understandably burned out and mentally done with it all. I guess that’s what writing a 40-some-odd page thesis in the same pair of pants will do to you.

1. Svenisgson.com - What a great design. Bence Kucsan, an interactive designer in Hungary, has got one slick little site here, rolling his portfolio and journal all into one cold, techy web-2-oh-ish amalgamation. He’s got an amazing control over this particular style and his grid structure and attention to detail is superb.
2. For the Love of a Good Burger - An article by Mark Bittman (who’s books I always have respected) about the overall basics of making a good hamburger. Simple, yet effective advice. I love burger season, despite not being the stereotypical “grilling guy.”
3. “Tarantula” by the Smashing Pumpkins - No, I’m not daft. Yes, I realize that the post just prior to this one was solely about how much I like this song. But seeing as how I listened to it about, oh, 9 MILLION TIMES this week, (and the fact that I’ve not been this enthused about a song in many months)…that means it’s worthy of a FTILFF nomination. Oh how I’ve missed your nasally trill, Billy.
4. A newly formatted computer - Sure, I’m revealing a little more about the dorkness inside of me, but after my laptop harddrive took it’s last breath seek, I’ve had to slowly rebuilt everything. And despite having obese programs like Photoshop sitting around, a fresh install is still all clean and speedy. Stupid Windows. Give it a few weeks and it’ll be back to navel-contemplation speed.
5. Brutus 10 - This brewing system designed and built by Lonnie Mac is what other homebrewers dream of, often waking up in a puddle of their own drool. An almost entirely-automated all-grain system with regulated mashing temperature control and wort pumping, Brutus 10 is one of the best examples of the ingenuity that the homebrewing community is all about. Be sure to check out the build process as well. (oh, and the bar that he built.

Last Saturday after doing yard work I got a text message from him, bemoaning just how boring the ceremony actually was. I was really sad that I couldn’t make the drive up, but happy knowing that he finally decided to attend commencement. I’m not sure he’ll ever know just how proud I am of him for sticking it out, despite all the crap he went through. But moreso, I’m really relieved that he didn’t throat punch the president on stage, or another such grandiose and obscene final bow.

Dear Billy Corgan,

You’ve been gone for far too long. Help remind the free world that rock music is not Hinder or Nickelback. And even though it’s not going to be the original Smashing Pumpkins line up, please, please, please bring more of this funk when you finally release the new album.

Hotness.

Yours in rock,
Brian

“You need to come inside right now. There’s a man in our house and you need to get him out right now.”

Two sentences that I wish The Wife™ would have considered rephrasing before my heart dropped through the bottom of my pants. Such a way with words she has…

Saturday morning started completely normally, with much running (on a treadmill, not from rabid lions) and much yard work (yuck). As I finished blowing off the grass clippings from the driveway, The Wife™ comes out of the house hurriedly to deliver this poorly-worded ultimatum. So after mentally preparing myself to kick someone’s ass (yeah right), I charged inside to find some snot-nosed super prep sitting smugly at our table. Instantly I knew that I was dealing with something much, much more dangerous than an unnamed intruder: a sales person.

As this weaselly little 20-something, smooth-talking assclown begins to reread repitch his sale, he fails to realize that I’ve already stopped listening entirely. Instead my brain is playing out scenarios of how to get him to leave politely, because I have a very hard time being rude to someone even if they are inconveniencing me. In my own home. Can I slowly move him towards the door? Nope, he’s firmly planted. Maybe I could fake a diahrea attack. Too risky. I bet he wouldn’t fall for the old “hey! look over there!” diversionary trick. Hell, Jonas doesn’t even get bamboozled by that. All my powers are rendered useless with this guy as he continues to drone on about security systems and how we absolutely MUST HAVE ONE. I have a strong desire to punch this smiley gladhand in the throat.

I try several times to terminate the conversation, finally resorting to the blunt approach of telling him that we’re simply not interested, will never be interested and don’t really want to hear any more from his face. This does little to sway him, as he dodges and weaves and starts almost back at the beginning with the third iteration of his pitch. Finally, after asking him for his business card for the second time he leaves. And that’s when it hits me.

This guy had damn near pushed past my wife to come into our house. He proceeded to scope out the entire first floor layout. He questioned how long we had been in the neighborhood, what contacts we had and what we thought our security weaknesses were. He refused to leave a business card or show and identification. He didn’t drive to the house, he was simply walking the neighborhood. The only telling fact was the “Pinnacle Security” polo shirt and lanyard around his neck. A quick search around the Internets and the Better Business Bureau website (and a meatspace check of the Yellow Pages) yielded no record of such a company.

Were we were being cased?

If it’s true or not, we’ll never know. But after replaying the entire scenario in my head a few times, it just seemed to sketchy—enough so to let the police know. I felt idiotic calling them, feeling like that paranoid old lady on the corner who files a report if the neighbor’s cat meows too loudly. But everyone I talked to said the same thing: that’s not right, you need to let the police know.

Somehow in the end, I was the one who felt badly. I felt stupid for letting the police know. I felt ashamed for not realizing what was going on while he was still there. Maybe this kid was a real salesman, trying to make an honest (albeit PUSHY) living. The only thing that I can hope is that if we get burgled in the future that Jonas will break out the Big Woofs and pretend to be a scary attack dog. I fear he’ll instead walk over to the intruder and hand them a tennis ball, fancying a game of fetch instead. Another thing we need to work on…

So be wary, friends, that not everyone who comes to your door necessarily has your best interest in mind. And don’t be like me and have guilt and remorse about doing your civic duty. Oh, and one more thing, if something like this happens to you make sure to mention that you are VERY interested in security, which is why you have ammased a stockpile of firearms in your basement that could rival Charleton Heston’s collection.

You just have to remember to say that while the person is still there, not after the fact. I’m so stupid.

Have you ever had someone call you by a name that is legally not your own? I’m sure most of us have. It’s a very odd experience. “Hey Eric!” [me looks around for peoples named Eric] — What do you say here? “Oh, you’re an idiot and that’s not my name.” Or perhaps, “Oh, that was an honest mistake, but my name is Brian actually. No, wait. Not Brian Actually, as if ‘actually’ was my last name—because that would be weird (okay kinda cool)…see…oh forget it.” I always just let this slide right on by without saying anything.

So this week, Eric presents Five Things that (he) Loves for Friday:

1. The Audi TT Clubsport Quattro concept - First impression was “meh, it’s okay.” Now it has totally grown on me. I was obsessed w/ the original Audi TT when it debuted years ago, as it was such a beautiful design (and still is!). And while I’m not a big fan of most convertible designs, this is kinda slick.
2. 2nd Annual Smallest, Coolest Apartment Contest - Sure, you need a lot of scrilla to have digs like these folks. But you’ve got to hand it to them, they’ve taken a very small amount of space and brilliantly crafted not only livable solutions, but beautifully designed spaces as well. You’ve gotta like contemporary design though…
3. Patience - I brewed two beers in April, a light honey ale and an apricot wheat. After being bottled for a week, I began sampling one 12oz’er of each every 7-10 days. I was utterly convinced that I had screwed up somehow because the taste was just terrible. Cloyingly sweet, little hop presence and severely unbalanced. I blamed everything from my sanitation practices to recipe formulation to water chemistry (damn those chloramines!) Turns out, they just needed to age a bit longer than other beers in the bottle. Last week the honey ale turned a corner and became an entirely different brew altogether. Let’s hope the wheat follows the lead soon.
4. This photo of the Pennybacker Bridge - A bridge, a tree and a skyline. Sounds like a boring setup. Shot in HDR (very tastefully so), Craig does a great job of moving the viewer’s eye forward in the composition, left to right, foreground to background. Very nicely composed.
5. The Big Noob returns - I think I’ve linked to them before in the past, but the site fell by the wayside for awhile. Now back in full effect, Ryan, Keegan and Brad bring the funk with a redesign that makes me jealous.

Funny story: when I was in high school during soccer tryouts, two kids I didn’t know called me by a name of someone that I reminded them of, and I responded. So for four years I was branded as Chuck Harvey. I guarantee that at my 20 year reunion people will still think my name is Chuck.

The worst thing about the warmer weather (besides increased potential for swampass) is that there are far too many things to do, at the unfortunate price of finding things to write about.

And then there’s the issue of a dying laptop, plagued with the Click of Death…

I ran out of coffee this morning, so my commute to work sucked hard. Ergo, YOU GET NO FTILFF INTRO.

1. Beaker from the Muppets singing “Yellow” by Coldplay - A smartly edited video of the famous meep-ing puppet playing the role of Chris Martin. I’m not sure who the hell thinks this stuff up, but anything w/ Muppets makes my week.
2. Homemade vanilla ice cream - Um, yea, so that crap that I’ve had almost every time I’ve eaten ice cream in the past 26 years? Rubbish. You don’t know the meaning of Premium Ice Cream until you’ve made your own. And even though the first machine we got was a dud, the replacement one has more than made up for it by kicking out a velvety, creamy gut-inducing dessert. On to the gelato!
3. Coolest Workplace Contest - Some dudes dig porn. Others enjoy violent movies. Me? I swoon over pictures of nicely designed and/or decked-out home offices. My dream is to someday work in a converted warehouse/loft space, brick walls and all. It must be the whole “isolated in the studio” mentality from my days in the printmaking shop, it’s like a second home. Now I just need to do something with the office room upstairs in our house…
4. This photo paired with this headline - Chris always does a great job of taking photos of his everyday life. This one in particular I can’t help but burst out laughing at, when paired with that title. Me too, little guy, me too.
5. These overly-creative business cards - Though I find relatively no use for business cards, I still can’t help but appreciate the creativity (and money!) that went into some of these designs. Personal branding is some of the hardest to do, but you can also do some pretty wild things when you’re your own client.

This is where I would normally wrap up whatever stupid point I was setting up in the intro. But since I have no coffee YOU GET NO OUTRO.

And yes, I know ‘outro’ isn’t a word. Unless you’re a Faithless fan.

I believe that I may have invented the single most entertaining game on the the planet Earth. Well, a game for the dog at least. Okay so not so much fun for him as confusing. But it’s hilarious to me. And since I walk on two legs, that’s what’s important here.

With Jonas being on his (relatively) best behavior these days, we’re at a loss with what to do with our free time. No longer are our mornings and evenings spent nursing bloody stumps, repairing damaged furniture or running the 800 meter sprint just to be able to get the remote back. True, we’re still in the middle of a several-week-stint of a Grab Sh*t Off The Counter Like A Ninja-Dog behavioral pattern, but we are SO over that by now. So, as human ingenuity usually does in times of boredom, I created an aptly titled set of games for Jonas. And I’m fairly sure that I could sit and watch him play both Tape Nose™ and Sticky Paw™ all day long.

The rules are simple:

1. Choose a game, Tape Nose™ or Sticky Paw™ (Note, if your dog’s nose is not dry enough, Tape Nose™ will be ineffective and will likely result in the ingestion of the game piece. Consider yourself warned.)


2. Get some tape. I’ve only tried Scotch™ tape, as that is what was on hand. I have a sneaking suspicion that duct tape may work even better. Don’t bother with electrical tape though, as that is the worst excuse for tape, ever.


3. Roll tape onto itself. Just as if you were going to tape something down, roll it back onto itself (if playing Sticky Paw™) and adhere to the underside of his foot. If playing Tape Nose™, simply adhere the tape to your dog’s nose.


4. Sit back and watch. Revel in your power over this inferior creature, watch his confusion. Have a beer.

See, the reason why these two games are so unbelievably brilliant are that they’re 1) cheap (and I’m all about The Cheap) 2) hilarious and 3) never-ending. With other, far inferior games like Fetch or Flashlight-On-The-Floor, your dog will likely catch on and figure out how to cheat or end the game faster. Sticky Paw™ and Tape Nose™ are so infuriating for your dog, they can’t help but be utterly consumed! I have a hunch that after a bit more R&D, Sticky Paw™ will be the better game as it involves not just the odd feeling of an unmovable paw, but also the curiously tempting sound of “The Thwip” as they continually pick their paw up to move.

Watching Jonas pace in circles trying to ascertain where The Thwip Sound is coming from and attempting to formulate just how in the world his giant bear paw is sticking to the ground…it truly is priceless. Don’t tempt me with complaints of animal cruelty or idiotic simplicity unless you too have exhausted both of these games in your own household.

I think The Wife™ doesn’t approve of these games, but between you and I, I think it’s because she’s just jealous that she did not invent them herself. And to that I say fair enough! One day Jonas will also learn to master the game Hide That Remote & Turn Off The TV While Mom Is Watching American Idol. I’ve just got to come up with a catchier name, or else he’ll never learn that command.

So seeing as how I’m quickly approaching my two year anniversary of being sentenced up and moving to The ‘Tucky, I thought I’d add on to some things that I had originally noticed when I first moved here. That and I love to make lists.

• People actually feel sorry for you when you say that you live in Kentucky. I do not shun this kind of pity.
• You know that you’ve reached a new low in life when saying, “well, I’m originally from Ohio” is supposed to be a valid excuse for something.
• “Crayons” is pronounced “crowns.” “Five,” “nine” and “fine” are all the same word to a northerner’s ears. All of them sound equally idiotic.
• Saying that you don’t like basketball is akin to announcing that you’re an albino transgendered Eskimo hooker. Unless you want to meet the barrel-end of a shotgun, keep this to yourself at all times.
• Mullets, apparently, are not a laughing matter. I will refuse to accept this until my dying day.
• Denim-on-denim outfits, fanny packs and anything with the Tasmanian Devil on them pass as “approved clothing for being seen in public.”
• Jesus loves you. At least according to 90% of the overpasses, unwashed truck trailers and barn signs.
• Tractor pulls are real. And highly attended events.
• Outlet mall shopping is the equivalent of reaching heaven/Valhalla/nirvana. Consequently, it is also my definition of the Third Ring of Hell.
• Derby Day is holier than Christmas and Easter combined.
• “Going to the boat” (riverboat gambling) is a legitimate vacation.
• Apparently the state symbols are the Cardinal and the Gray Squirrel. The state symbol is not Calvin peeing on a Chevy symbol. I did not know this until I just looked it up.
• It helps to have a reason for living in Kentucky, such as, “Oh, I just moved here because of my wife.” This helps dull the pain of embarrassment. Bourbon helps more.
• Any food can be served “country style” if you simply put gravy on it. A crappy meal can also be made agreeable by adding biscuits. They live by simple rules here in the Bluegrass State.
• I’ve still never seen blue grass.
• If you hear someone from Kentucky say they’ve been to Paris, Versailles or London, rest assured they did not travel outside state lines to do so.
• “International Airport” is a relative term.
• For some reason, I will be slapped for writing this entire post as all Kentuckians have a deluded sense of pride in their state. I guess they’re not in on the joke like the rest of the country.

I can’t believe it has been two entire years that I’ve been here. I love my wife and my house, and can’t really see myself being elsewhere.

That is until I pass someone on the way home flying the rebel flag.

Grab your bugles, grab your Maker’s Mark and even grab Aunt Bertha who wears that stupid hat…it’s Derby time again folks. This year is shaping up to be a poor showing, as it started raining a few days ago and just can’t seem to shake it. Hopefully by the time the horsies start running in a circle, it will be sunnier. Or at least I will have had some mint julips, whatever the hell they are.

What? I’m not from here. Don’t give me that look, pal.

1. Jon Armstrong & Chuck, playing XBox and drinking games - This has to be the funniest photo I’ve seen in awhile. And I know that I say that often, but I’m serious. Apparently in the Armstrong household this is what happens when Heather leaves town. What a priceless picture.
2. Mikohlbecker in print - I’m really happy for Mike. An SJ grad and Xavier alum (and former co-editor of The Newswire Diversions Section with me), Mike is now busting his creative ass out west at a swanky PR firm. I’m glad the XU editorial staff took my story pitch and ran with it. Good dude, great work. Keep it up, Mike!
3. Finally getting up early to workout - True, it only took me two years to get back into this pattern, and I had to move the alarm clock across the room, but now getting up at 5:10am is only partially unbearable! In seriousness, it is a great feeling to head off to work feeling less like a dog turd and more like a human being, energy and clarity of mind at top levels. The downside? I now want to go to sleep at 8:45pm. Crap.
4. This frozen yogurt recipe - All kidding aside, seeing this photo and reading the recipe makes me want to go out and buy an ice cream maker. Right now. Sure, we don’t need another kitchen appliance or to spend $40, but as The Wife™ put it, “Why would you think I would say no to this idea?!” Thanks, hun.
5. This awesome dog collar - I’m not that kinda chick guy who thinks dressing their dog up is the bees knees. I do think that Jonas needs an appropriate collar (since he’s found a way to swivel his head ‘round Exorcist-style and chew the crap out of the current one). This one is perfect. Skulls and crossbones, red leather. It would be totally badass on him. Which is funny, as the most aggressive I’ve ever seen him be was that one time he went up to a snarling, snapping dog all like, “What? Me? Play? OK TOTALLY.” And then he rolled over on his back. He needs this collar to save his increasingly feminine image.

Awesome. One other person just showed up to work today. Guess I’m not the only asshat that doesn’t take Oaks Day off. *Sigh*

So by now many of you may have heard of the Master Cleanse, which is a “diet” — or else that’s what the bozos at the DHG want you to believe (that’s the Department of Human Gullibility). They churn out new and utterly ridiculous methods of starvation every month or so.

Anyway, it seems as if everyone is talking about this no-eating, lemon-sucking nonsense diet. So I decided to post my alternative method of cleansing, one that is healthier (umm, because you eat food?), faster acting (10 days? wtf?) and totally a sport of sorts. Below is a simple outlined infographic to help you get started on the totally new, totally awesome Mexican Geezer Diet (now in Spicy Orange!).

I’ve been adding this special ingredient to my daily fiber supplement for a week now, and let me tell you something sister. I’m a believer. It’s like inviting Drunk Aunt Liz to your Christmas dinner, everything around her gets demolished and then everyone leaves the party. Just it’s in your colon and not your living room. And Drunk Aunt Liz is actually cayenne pepp…oh never mind, you get it.

So if you’re lookin’ for a good time this weekend, give it a shot. As you can see by the gi-normous bottles of both ingredients, I’m in it to win it. Just make sure you don’t use too much other either, or else catastrophe could ensue.

And please don’t ask how I know about that.

If you’re ever in the market for a new refrigerator and you are considering a model that has the bottom-placed freezer, let me offer you one simple bit of advice:

If you have a dog who adores frozen water, think again about your choice lest you be subjected to a lifetime of “self-served” ice cubes. Funny as it may be, Jonas no longer understands that he must wait for us to get him a piece instead of just sticking his tongue into the ice bucket to grab one.

Oh, and if you’re ever a guest at my house (which I hope someday you will be), kindly refuse ice in your drinks until further notice. Gross.

Sometimes you just have nothing to say. The past two days have been just that. I promise I’m not gone, though. Just trying to get something in alignment.