Shelley was feeling like poo and watching a movie in bed, Cameron was on the couch and deep into some Jean-Claude van Damme film and I was eating dinner next to a laptop. What better way to pass the time than figure out how to configure a Google custom search engine for our sites. Ta da...!

http://www.criminale.com/search.asp

For any conspiracy theorists out there that are convinced a cash-less society is the first sign of the coming of the apocalypse, I'm sure they would have something to say about Google as well. Give Google access to all your information, all your stats and all your metadata and in return you get a nifty search engine designed just for your site(s).

That said, it's pretty cool...

You can:

• Customize the look and feel of the search and results page (of course).
• Specify what sites you want this custom search engine to index so in our case where we have more than one site and more than one blog, all of them will get crawled.
• Let Google host the results. I chose to host them myself to preserve the criminale.com look and feel of the results by plopping them in my web page template that's just me.
• Link it to your Google AdSense account and (hopefully) make some dough from click-throughs in your search results.
• Add all kinds of refinements, new AdSense channels, key words, inclusions, exclusions and search customizations. I only understood about half of all this but it was fun and edifying to poke around and mess with shit.

How much stuff can you cram into a cyclometer? Cervellum thinks it's a lot.

Not only does this bicycle computer have all the usual stats that everyone (doesn't) need, it also has 'modules' that you can connect to give you heart rate, an optional LCD on the top of your STI lever, a power meter, GPS mapping capability and a REARWARD FACING CAMERA SO YOU CAN SEE WHAT'S BEHIND YOU.

No, really. There is a lens that attaches to your seatpost and the image it picks up can be displayed on the unit's screen; just like some massive RV with no rear window.

I suppose it might be fun to be off the front and not have to look behind you to check on the progress of the pack...

This is the best thing I've read all week.

I was born with the anxiety gene. Martin without.

A peek into the brains of those less fortunate. :)

http://www.finslippy.com/finslippy/2007/12/the-worst-that.html

to eat 4 pieces of fake bacon and a chocolate-covered cherry for breakfast, then I don't want to be right.

Towards the end of my bike ride yesterday a small group of us were finishing a lap of Mercer Island and we saw a woman walking her dog.

Now say what you will about Mercer Island but it's nothing if not

• white
• rich
• white (oops, I already said that...)
• inhabited by lots of badly aging empty nesters

And that is exactly what we saw. I believe "fully botoxed" were Dustin's exact words as we passed this woman who was walking her dog towards us. Let me set the scene.

Fur lined brown jacket, matching (but not fur lined - I don't think) brown pants, matching brown [insert expensive designer name here] handbag daintily perched on one arm, hair (colored to match the outfit so help me god) perfectly sprayed just so, makeup that would stand up to rock concert spotlights and of course skin that was way too smooth for this at least 50 something woman.

Don't get me wrong, nothing wrong with trying to keep yourself looking good and doing a little maintenance here and there but this was the full on puffy lips, apply the foundation with a trowel, no one EVER sees me as I really am hideous mask that gives me the creeps.

Two words: let go.

Two more: Jacqueline wannabe

Two more: Martin has an attitude problem

Well that's more than two but you get the idea.

This post was prompted by my trip to the store today. Sitting in holiday traffic. Trying to find my happy place. Never ending shiz on the radio. Suddenly the fog lifted and I found myself singing every word to Icehouse's "Electric Blue". And instead of taking a sharp right off the Montlake Bridge as any normal human would, I thought, hey do I have this on my ipod? I confess. I love crappy music. I love it for its unabashed crappiness. I bask in its sheer craposity. You can't always share this with people. Most take themselves too seriously. A nod to Icehouse would be a blight on their personal record. But you can't truly appreciate good music unless you know what's shitty, correct? I like the spectrum. The nuance of crap. Maybe the nuance I speak of here is of the Cheesy variety. I don't know. Maybe I like Electric Blue because it reminds me of 7th grade and singing into my Clairol Makeup Mirror. Maybe I just have really bad taste in music. But it got me thinking, what other unspeakable's are hiding on my ipod? Downloads I won't admit to downloading. Songs no human in their right mind will admit to liking* Well, here you go everybody, the top 9 cheesiest songs on my ipod today**:

"Jive Talkin'" - Bee Gees     We all love to hate the Bee Gees but come on. They're catchy. Admit it. The beginning guitar pickin' sound? It's awesome. I'm going to ramp up the cheese factor by confessing I also dig "One" and "Alone" which were late 80's and early 90's Bee Gees songs that nobody should ever cop to knowing. Shame on me.

"Night Moves" - Bob Seger     Ooh. This one hurts me about as much as it hurts you, but it's true. How could I? Even worse? How could I own Bob Seger's Greatest Hits? I could easily pick any song on that album but this one is actually on my ipod. Oh Sweet Hosanna, I'm really digging myself in here. "Tight pants, points, hardly renown". You heavenly wordsmith, you. It's so wonderfully disturbing.

"Sister Golden Hair" - Bread     I have a soft spot for 70's hooks, what can I say. Obviously, I was born in the wrong decade. Although, I ask Martin and he doesn't remember half of these songs. I think it's because my parents owned a Chevy van with wall-to-wall red shag carpet. I was raised on 8 tracks. And my father owned one of those knitted Budweiser can hats.

"Somebody" - Depeche Mode    Now this one is embarrassing. Only because I truly thought this was The Way love was supposed to be back in the 80's. Oy, God. How gay. I, too, was 'carefully trying to steer clear of those things". Yikes.  What were 'those things'? My girlfriends and I would sit around and brush each others hair and marinate in our bereftness. So emo.

"Sara Smile" - Hall & Oates        Truth be told, this should be "She's Gone" but I don't technically have that on the ipod. Hall & Oates rocks my socks. This guys' too. WHAT is that?

"Do It To Me" - Lionel Richie   I will probably have to write a whole separate post on my relationship with Smooth Jazz. Suffice to say, I like the slow grooves. Unabashedly cheesey and saxophoney ones. With plenty of "motown lovin'". Lionel came out with a couple gems in the early 90's. I don't know why I like them. Again, I don't know what is wrong with me. It's not even Commodores Cool. It's like lame elevator rock. I am the first to admit it.

"Crazy Love" - Poco     The vocals on this song remind me of every song I heard when I was in kindergarten in 1980. Those were good times.

Entire Kamakiriad Album - Donald Fagen    Some Steely Dan songs are so retro their cool. Steely Dan has street cred. But only an absolute Donald Fagen fan would love every single song on Kamakiriad. Only an absolute dork fan would choreograph a whole dance in their living room to "Tomorrow's Girls". Ssshhh. Forget I told you that. There was wine involved and lots of snow. We were snowed in. And bored. And drunk. Sometimes, always actually, I feel way too young to like Donald Fagen as much as I do.

"Year of the Cat" - Al Stewart     I picture hilltop mansions in LA. Or the Regal Beagle. That's exactly what I see. Jack, Janet and Chrissy sipping Riunite on ice. That's nice. Sharing some calamari. How long is this song? It's one of those story-songs that takes you high and brings you way down low. It's Epic. Epically 70's.

*I can't even bring myself to put Lou Gramm's "Midnight Blue" on the list because it's so good. Anything that involves this:

You were the restless one
And you did not care
That I was the trouble boy
Lookin' for a double dare

Is f'ing sweet in my book.

**meaning, there could be crappier ones on there tomorrow, just wait.

http://www.storyofstuff.com/

The Story of Stuff is a 20:40 movie and a web site full of information about the culture of consumption we live in. It also has links and resources to hopefully explain how we can break out of this non-sustainable cycle.

From the web site:

"From its extraction through sale, use and disposal, all the stuff in our lives affects communities at home and abroad, yet most of this is hidden from view. The Story of Stuff is a 20-minute, fast-paced, fact-filled look at the underside of our production and consumption patterns. The Story of Stuff exposes the connections between a huge number of environmental and social issues, and calls us together to create a more sustainable and just world. It'll teach you something, it'll make you laugh, and it just may change the way you look at all the stuff in your life forever."

I know what you are thinking, preaching to the choir and all that... Well maybe you are right. But maybe this is still a great movie and web site. And maybe it's pretty relevant.

Everyone has their own level of tolerance when it comes to consuming, producing waste, using natural resources, eating meat, acquiring stuff, whatever. None of these things are necessarily bad but I'm thinking none should be done with no regard for their consequences. It's that "Think globally, act locally" cliche all over again. And it's why I feel a twinge of guilt when I have to drive to work (five miles one way!) in the van. I suppose a twinge is better than nothing.

Thanks to Mark B for sending me this.

Remember when you were 13? Stuff like getting dirty, skipping your shower and carving things with sharp knives were what you did. It's what you were about.

And playing with fire.

Cameron is no different.

Nice.

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00067F1CE/ref=cm_cr_pr_product_top

Nice. A personal tank, why didn't I think of this first? There goes another gazillion dollars I won't be making. With this ride all the original gangsters could cruise with total impunity.

You need to read the reviews, they had me laughing so hard my side hurt.

Thanks to Annie at work for this gem.

Martin took me to the Dina Martina Christmas Show this past Friday at Rebar. You should go to this show. If you like bizarre and blasphemous Christmas humor as much as I, you will not regret it. It's not even necessarily a drag queen thing. More like a very original mix of mid-western tea cozy warmth with sheer garish insanity. Dina sang a medley of "White Christmas" & Laid Back's "White Horse". Need I say more? How awesome.

Which makes it all the more annoying that my Appreciation for Obscure Homo Theatrics was called into question by some pompous gayass. Repeatedly. Even during intermission. It started with us trying to find a seat and spying 2 at the bar that looked open. I approached and asked if they were taken, thereby opening a can of judgmental worms. Whatever his name was was very nice and told us to sit down since his boyfriend was at the bar. Ah, how cordial of him. Then he starts talking to me, asking me if I'd seen the show before. Fair enough. Nice convo opener. When I said 'no' he morphed into Bobby Trendy and goes, as though someone just waved a dirty diaper under his nose, "Why did you come here"? And me, still being the nice, aw-shucks friendster said, "Oh you know, just heard it was a great show". "Yeah, but how did you END UP HERE? WHY would you come to this show"? I was getting a little befuddled. "Where are you FROM"? He kept looking me up and down. I couldn't shake his disbelief. Looking around the room and noticing all of the other NON-GAYS there, it wasn't like some private affair. Am I giving off some Republican vibe I don't know about? Jesus. I don't shop at Talbot's, I'm not sipping on white zin. What gives? 

"For the first 15 minutes of the show, you're gonna be like (opens mouth in jaw-dropping gesture), it's just, I can't even explain it. WHERE did you say you were from? WHY did you come here again?"  DUDE. I don't know what words are going to convey to you that I have the proper street cred to appreciate your oh-so groundbreaking and subversive fat guy-dressed-as-lady with Santa hat and Carol Channing wig. You're just going to have to trust me, OK? I promise when my mind shatters into a thousand pieces after the opening number, I'll try not to get any in your Stella. Or on your pointy Kenneth Cole loafers. Or your pointy head.