Liloia.com

Zelda - One Piece

I love weekends. It is the one part of the week that I can finally unwind and be completely lazy. I tend to get myself pretty wound up during the week and the weekends prove to be a good time to chill out. Usually a weekend for me includes some of the following events:

Sleeping in both days (unless we have something else to do)
Eating a 'Dave Liloia Weekend Breakfast' which includes scrambled eggs, cheese and bacon
Watching DVD's or going out to the movies at least once
Grilling (mmmm)
Going for a walk/park
Reading books/magazines
Playing video games

Today along with the other things I wanted to do, I wanted to play 'Legend of Zelda'. Yes, you heard that right, this is the original Zelda that came out in the 1987 for the original NES (Nintendo Entertainment System). They just released it a few weeks ago for the GBA SP (Game Boy Advanced SP) and Trevor and I were eagerly waiting for the day it came out.

I have been playing a little bit each day, thouroughly enjoying the game itself and the nostalgia of my youth. Today my goal was to play enough to earn another piece of the Tri-force bringing my total to 6 pieces, two away from completion.

Trevor walked into the bedroom this afternoon to tell me that he had (for the third time) accidentally deleted my game. Ugh. This time he was trying to use the GBA with Animal Crossing (another wicked cool game) to play one of the mini games and left Zelda in the GBA when he plugged it in.

Apparently you can't do that.

Coke's C2 First Impressions

It's surprisingly sweet, with a good coke flavor and no strange diet soda aftertaste. But the bottle I tried lacked carbonation in the glass. It bubbled high when poured, but was almost completely flat less than a minute later.

Tara's First Hair Dryer

Believe it or not, Tara (who is definitely female) has never owned a hair dryer. Never. She realized at work the other day that it was taking all day long for her hair to dry because it is so long. Her friend Shannon came to chat with Tara in late afternoon and grabbed a handful of wet locks, much to her dismay.

So we ran out to the store last night an got her one.

First in line for the R-card.

The New York Times has a story today about an Illinois theater offering R-cards which give kids under 18 prearranged parental permission to see R-rated films.

"The R-card costs $2 and allows youth to attend R-rated films unaccompanied by a parent or guardian....But critics are denouncing the R-card as both a maneuver around the movie rating system — which was set up to help parents sort out which movies were appropriate for their children — and an abdication of parental responsibilities."

First, a parent purchasing the R-card for a teen hasn't necessarily neglected their parental responsibilities, but they have definitely made a choice. A choice that says, "I'm allowing my teen to see R-rated films." Whether you agree or not, buying the card implies blanket permission, not necessarily apathy.

I would buy this card for a teenage Trevor, but I would also hand it out to him on a case by case basis. Requiem for a Dream and The Breakfast Club are vastly different films, but both are rated R. I would allow Trevor to see the latter as a teen. The former, I hope he sees when he's about 30, next to someone who will offer a hug afterwards.

Which brings me to my second point. The MPAA ratings are broken. They were created to help parents judge how appropriate movies are for children, but vague warnings like "strong language" and "some violence" are useless. There was "some violence" in the movie Brother Bear—those cartoon brothers smacked each other at least fifteen times at the start of the film. Which is different from a severed ear. And different from a slow, excruciating evisceration.

Mainstream critics are too concered with spitting out a pithy sound byte out to actually describe a film's content, but there are places to find child-aware reviews. Regardless of your religious beliefs, Christianity Today is a thorough source. Reviewers get down to the real nitty gritty of each film and tend to err on the conservative side. Knowing beforehand about the "kiss" in the final scene of Dodgeball is valuable in a way that a "rude and sexual humor" warning is not.

Meant for each other.

Tara, hearing about an HR employee's insensitive remark:
"Where did she go to HR school, Guantanamo Bay?"

Dave, seeing a dog sitting in the back of a pickup racing down the Mass Pike:
"Is it wrong of me to really wish I had a tennis ball right now?"

2 authors, 3 years, 800+ posts

I don't like to mark the passage of time. Ask Dave—who tallies up the weeks since our last vacation, the hours until Trevor's birthday, the days since we've been to the movies—ask him if he thinks I know what wedding anniversary we're celebrating this year and he'll give you one of his derisive laughs and say, "She probably doesn't even know that today is nine years to the day from the first time we ever went to a Chili's together." Go figure.

But I do keep up enough to know that June marks our third full year of writing at Liloia.com. Sure, we've had random online homes in the past, like Dave's gardening site on GeoCities and my weekly column at Suite101. Those sites lost their luster after (at most) a year and are now abandoned Web debris. But once we settled here, something clicked and we suddenly found ourselves among friends who posted their opinions on Palahniuk books, Christopher Guest films, reality television, raising kids, Massachusetts drivers, technology wars and gargantuan lobsters. We felt at home.

Someone asked me at last year's BloggerCon why we blog. "Why post this stuff publicly? Who reads it?" were the questions. I had a little rehearsed explanation about keeping my family updated, something that was echoed at BloggerCon 2004 by another well-known blogger. But as the years passed, family readership became less of a factor. We were drawn into a diverse blogging community, connected only by words on a screen.

It's a connection that's reinforced when, say, Wil Wheaton links to your post or when a reality television personality writes an angry letter protesting your complaints about their show. When someone an ocean away recommends a song that fits your taste perfectly or when a friend nine states away sends you a piece of custom artwork. You feel utterly connected to your world when not only can you speak to it, but it speaks back.

I'm still amazed to arrive at events organized via comment threads and trackbacks and find actual people waiting. I still get butterflies when showing up to someone's house after an email invitation -- what if the Internet is one colossal joke and there's no one waiting? But there is always someone waiting and it has always been a kind someone with a wide, welcoming smile. We're strangers, but not entirely. Brunches, lunches, dinners, meetups, movies, book clubs, job offers -- the Internet is not the great isolating space that we were warned about.

Thanks for being part of our online community. Here's to 800 more posts about what we had for breakfast. And cats.

I just don't get it

I don't get it. Trevor could charm the coat off an Eskimo. He has been spending some time with me this week at work while he is off of school.

The Hidden Kitchen gives him all of his food for free.
My friends bring him little gifts and toys
And he was taken to the Hard Rock Cafe - Boston for lunch.

I've never been to the Hard Rock in Boston!

I need him to ask my boss for a raise! :)

Doctor Who

Doctor Who must be brilliant. I mean, he has been on the air for over 40 years! (and going) That's longer than the career for most real doctors.

There's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes.
-- Doctor Who

It's looking a little ad hominem outside today.

I had hoped to find someone blogging this morning's Today Show interview with Michael Moore and Katie Couric. In particular, Dave says that Katie, exhausting all other possibilities for thorough journalism, took a swipe at Moore's choice of clothing. But I haven't seen any mention of it yet. Any help?

ER? What's ER?

Tara and I began watching ER many, many years ago back in college the year that we first started dating. One of our favorite shows to watch back then was ER, and rightfully so. It was damn good.

Over the last few years I have tried to keep up with the sometimes ridiculous plots of the show, but my interest has waned.

This article tickled me for some reason. It is Alex Kingston commenting on her departure from ER this coming season.

In it she says "I don't think I'll be killed by a helicopter because that's happened already" to another character, Dr. Robert Romano, she said. "I think they will hopefully let her live."

Yeah, but wouldn't it be awesome if every character was bumped from the show by a falling helicoptor?

Going Gmail

Hotmail trained me to be a compulsive email deleter. Kathleen would ask if I had a note from last month and no, I didn't have it, because the admonitions of the IS department and Hotmail's red warning status bar had me clearing boxes right and left. I looked at Google's offer of a gigabyte of storage and scoffed -- what kind of digital pack rat couldn't keep their inbox down to a few pending to-do messages?

I took the plunge today and moved everything from Hotmail into my new Gmail account (thanks, Clay). You can continue to send mail to tara@liloia.com, which redirects there. If you have my hotmail address, just substitute @gmail.com for @hotmail.com and you'll have the new one.

I was skeptical of a folderless system, but I caught on to labels and their purpose fairly quickly. I took the opportunity to divide my one monstrous "Save" folder into several logical Labels. I have a few filters that will sort incoming messages and label them correctly as they arrive. Not put them into folders where I can't see them, like other mail programs do, but just apply that tidy little green label.

The ability to search the content of my messages is a killer feature. And I don't really care if I see targeted text ads based on my message content. I would hardly care if a Google employee actually sat at a desk and read my messages in order to manually target ads to them. If someone has the stomach to read through my ramblings on why Star Jones isn't qualified for a worst-dressed at the beach list and why I stopped watching Degrassi High because of the way they pronounce "about," well you're welcome to sit and listen all you like. Feel free to join in the conversation. I don't care.

I'd like some Moore, please.

The trailer for Farenheit 9/11—can you watch this and not want to see the film?

It is real? Can I touch it?

This looks like—can it really be?—an actual weblog written by a real person in support of a product line. Informative and personal, this blog is more than just PR flak nonsense.
The Bovine Bugle

Written by a Vermont dairy farmer, the blog is updated every few days with quick entries about the day's events on the farm. It's nice to see a non-technology read among the RSS feeds for a change.

Zoloft Rock

...depression is a medical condition...that can turn you into a little sad rock.

Take Zoloft and you can be a little sad rock with sexual disfunction.

Leaky Signal

Today I am working from home because Trevor is in a play at school. The three little pigs, w00t.

I had (still on it) a conference call at 7 AM this morning and I was faced with a dilemma.

1) How do I get on this call and read email for work without waking up the family?

2) Once they wake up, how do I stay on the call so I can comment with Trevor screaming in the background?

So, I am in the car reading email and on the conference call with my cell phone. Completely wireless...sort of. We installed a wireless router a few months ago in the apartment and have been using it inside the house but we haven't tried it anywhere outside the house. We have always been told that the signal from a wireless router will "leak" outside of the main area. Let me tell you that it isn't all that great. Passable, but not great.

Ok, Tara is standing outside of the car. I think she wants to take it to work or something. :)

Local Bands Attack

This past Saturday, Bryan and I headed up to Euphoria Lounge in Bloomfield for a classic battle of the bands.

The first band to come up was awful. Bryan didn't even bother to take any shots of them because it wasn't worth it. They were out of tune, and looked like they were all from different bands and met for the first time on stage. Their name was "Dive" and the entire time they were up there I was hoping that they would have (dived that is). At least that might have been interesting.

The next band Union City Blue was awesome. These kids (they totally were - the lead singer is 15!) rocked. I noticed the entire club all look up as soon as these guys got on stage, and toes were a'tappin. Their songs were very cool, and their music was tight. The guys in UCB were all very good musicians and great performers.

I actually bought a copy of their CD (from thier parents!!) and plan on picking up their new CD (coming out in a few weeks) once it is available.

The band we actually went to see 'For Sorrow's End' brought an entourage of almost 50 people. They were very good musicians and great performers but I really wasn't getting into their music.

They definitely have a following in the North Jersey scene based on the number of people in attendance. It was either that, or each of the band members had their older brothers bring people from their accounting firms to the show. (Yes, there were far too many sausage headed, gel-haired, fancy shirt wearing, guys for a small show like this)

The lead singer of FSE had a really great voice, and was totally playing the part for his show (yes ladies - he is wearing mascara). Also, the lead guitarist (pictured in the tie) was dead on, that guy is a true musician and his skill shined through.

I think there were only three bands that appeared that night, yet they still gave away first, second and third place prizes. Union City Blue got third place, not because they were bad, but because they tricked fewer people into coming all the way to Bloomfield than the rest of the bands. I guess it is hard to get your teenage friends to drive a long way to come to a bar, pay $10 to see the band you see all the time at home, and be in a bar where you can't drink at all because they put giant black X's on your hands.

UCB - Keep on rocking. You guys were really good. I tried to contact you, but your site is down.

I'm sorry, what?

They had to be asked?

Virginia Billboard Campaign Asks Men Not to Have Sex With Young Girls (via Adrants)

Where are my keys, Frodo?

Inside of the DVD package for Lord of the Rings: Return of the King, you'll find this offer for a free Elvish Script Keychain with any purchase.

You know, just like Gandalf had for his Lexus.

Headcase

Check out the new and improved Dave Liloia! Yes I shaved my head.

Why would I do such a thing? Well depending on who you talk to there might be a variety of different stories.

If you ask my in-laws the story might go something like "Dave had just crushed his fifth beer can against his head, and stood up on the table and screamed 'Where are the clippers?', but this is not quite the truth.

If you ask the Customer Care people in Shelton, they might say that I did it to fit in with the overwhelming population of intentionally bald men in the office here. This is also not accurate, but is still weird.

If you ask Tara, she might tell you that I know of her fascination with bald men (Patrick Stewart, et al.) and this is a feeble attempt to win her love. While this might be a little bit true, it is not the reason.

If you ask my Dad and Uncles they will tell you that it is because I realized that there is more hair in the drain than on my head after each shower and I am following in thier footsteps. This is not true at all. They are just jealous because I don't want a combover.

The real reason is that the older I get, the less I care. Hair is just an annoyance and this haircut is the perfect hairstyle. I never have to comb it. I still do lather and rinse but the whole "repeat" just seems silly.

The Gods of War

All I know about Ronald Regan I learned from a Def Leppard song.

"Message to terrorists everywhere, you can run but you can't hide."

I wasn't living in the United States -- heck, I wasn't even living in the Western Hemisphere -- for most of Regan's reign.

"We're not going to tolerate these attacks from outlaw states."

He was some guy on the news, subtitled in Chinese and drowned out by the hum of our massive air conditioners.

"We will not cave in."

We were more interested in collecting Anne Frank stickers than hearing about Iran Contras.

"Today, we have done we had to do."

The bird-sized dragonflies on the path to school were more a concern than the balancing the American budget.

"He counted on America to be pacifists. He counted wrong."

I don't think anyone calls us pacifists anymore.

Tie One On

Adam B and I have a mutual contact. Zach Everson. I don't know the guy, but Tara added him to our Blogroll because hey, the guy is damn funny.

I was talking to Adam today and he linked me to this post that zach made two years ago at Adam's brothers wedding.

ZachEverson.com: Wanna Tie One On? A bottle of Seagram’s 7, a flask, an Irish wedding, and getting drunk with someone else's grandma makes for some good times.

Here is my question for you: Has Zach made the phrase "Tie One On" the new Yadda Yadda?

Unless it's a mortuary term I've never heard of...

Making funeral arrangements is never fun. But it can be funny.

But it did not improve your spelling, ma'am.

Tattoo Authorization Matrix

I have recently decided what I want for my first tattoo. It is simple, one (maybe two) colors and doesn't contain any characters or letters. I don't intend to put it on my face, neck or palms and it is not offensive in any way.

As I considered what my first inking will be, I remembered something that happened in college. A guy who I worked with (I will not claim him as a friend and you will see why in a minute) during the summer decided a tattoo. He put a lot of thought into it and didn't tell me what he was planning on before he had it done.

On the following Monday he walked into work and asked me if I would like to see it. Of course I did, at which point he pulled off his shirt to show me this.

He had gotten a FULL BACK TATTOO of the GENIE FROM ALADDIN!!!!

Here are some facts:
- This guy was 23 at the time
- This guy isn't a big fan of Disney
- He has no children (dear god, I hope he doesn't now)
- He was probably stoned at the time of the inking

His entire back was blue. I am assuming that he went alone.

So here is what I am proposing:

"For any tattoo's that meet the following criteria, you must obtain written signatures from three friends and three strangers admitting that your tattoo will actually look good when completed"

If the tattoo
- Covers your face
- Is larger 1 sq. ft.
- Contains ANY religous symbols for a religion that you are not presently a member of.
- Contains any elements that "move when you stare at them"

Please people, don't get bad tattoo's

Checking Out

Checkout woman at Stop & Shop was extra-chatty. As she bagged each item, she remarked upon it.

Juice Boxes... "How old is the baby?"

Seltzer... "You sure do like seltzer!"

It turned into a pleasant conversation, but it made me glad that I hadn't needed to purchase anything, er... personal. I can see it now:

Tampons... "Aww, I could tell you looked a little bloated."

Condoms... "Hey, are we getting some this weekend? Congrats!"

Lice Killing Shampoo... "Really, just leave the cash on the counter..."

Macro for your Man

Now that's geek love!

Me and Martha

Martha Stewart and I have a lot in common. Along with our fantastic sense of style and business prowess (hah) we both grew up in the same town.

Martha Stewart's childhood home for sale in Nutley, New Jersey - Jun. 3, 2004

Her house is only a few blocks away from where I grew up. Why is this interesting? It really isn't. :)

My dad putters in the garden. He must be doing something right because the side yard is full of flowers. But he lets the plants go a little wild and they stretch to cover the pathways between mounds of green, then he complains if you step on the leaves. You're weird, Dad.

Taking a Break

I have been sitting here documenting my notes and observations here in Shelton for the last two hours. I think it is time for a 5 minute break. So, am I going to go outside or walk away from my computer? Nope. Type, type, type.

Things have been going very well here in the Wiffle Ball capital of the United States (seriously, I drive by the plant almost every single day). The one thing that I am noticing is that I am begining to get burned out on this lifestyle. Primarily that is due to the fact that I have not even been home in almost 3 weeks. That could do it.

Today I am really tired and not feeling all that great. I made the decision last night at dinner to eat some carbs (or more than I normally do) and that is coming back to haunt me. I will probably feel a lot better as the morning wears on and my insulin starts to kick in. We'll see. Right now I am dragging along and feeling like I have a fever. Tonight I will probably just hit the hotel and eat in my room.

This weekend I have some big plans. Ok, by big plans I mean "I have no plans at all." I hope to spend the entire weekend in my bed watching movies, but I can't guarantee that. Tara is going out to a party on Friday night and I am going to try to take Trevor to see the new Harry Potter movie (which he and Tara have already seen).

Saturday will be the real day of rest and then Sunday will be spent in bed again until about 7PM. I am heading up to Deirdre's house to watch the season finale of The Soprano's. Yay.

Monday. Back to Shelton for one last week. I really hope that I am helping these guys out and improving their lives. This has been an interesting and educational experience for me on the dynamics between different functional groups within an organization. Can't wait to see if I am doing some good here.

Holy Cow.

Can you tell that we are really busy and distracted? As of right now this is the only post on the front page! Dang.