I was taking a look at the computer models this morning and saw this on the GFDL:
Yes, that's a huge monster storm, or Godzilla, headed straight for New Orleans. Keep in mind this is only one model, and I'm not sure it's a particularly good model. In fact, I think the other models gave it a swirly in the bathroom this morning. But the consensus developing this morning is that it will make it into the Gulf and rapid intensification will be a real risk.
If I was a gambling man I would probably load up on oil since the price will likely spike. Just for fun let's see if I lose my shirt: The light, sweet, (and delicious) crude contract on the New York Mercantile Exchange closed at $115.11 a barrel. So let's say I pick up, well, 5000 barrels (I only have so much room in my garage.) That would cost me $575,550 which is okay, because my great uncle three times removed on my mother's side is T. Boone Pickens. And then let's check the price whenever (and wherever) Gustav makes U.S. Landfall.*
In any event, everyone in the Gulf should pay attention to legitimate weather/monster/zombie information sources for watches, warnings, and advisories. Stay safe!
*Blog Hero's crack legal team, Sven, just called in from a Dunkin' Donuts and said that I have to put a disclaimer here about buying oil. The aforementioned blog post discussing buying oil is for entertainment value only. No one is to blame if you lose all of your money in the oil market because Gustav is actually Gamera and leaves the oil producing areas of the Gulf alone and instead flies off and destroys Tulsa. Sven also asked me to say that today's post meant to offense to the oil companies, oil traders, people who get stinking filthy rich from trading oil while we deal with $4 gas, Mr. Boone Pickens, Mr. T, zombies, giant radioactive monsters or meteorologists well that's about it. Sven had to get back to his latte and jelly donut.
Today I cleaned my daughter's room. I know, I know - what on earth am I doing? How is she going to learn any lessons that way? You have to understand that I really, really, really tried this time. I waited, and reminded, and cajoled (which isn't easy) her about the condition of her room. Oh, she would clean it - you know, the Kid Kind of Clean, but being borderline OCD it was never good enough for me. So, as things began to get lost I was more and more on edge. Finally I threw up my hands and screamed "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" and ran into the room with a garbage bag, a Swiffer Duster and a mini vac.
The family knows after many years to seek shelter when there's a Carl Cleaning Warning in effect. They usually go to the basement and find a sturdy wall and play UNO until the warning is over. Actually, they watch from a distance and feign boredom, but I know inside they're secretly jumping in glee knowing that I've broken down. It's like when Kasparov played that computer in chess, and the computer won, and you just know the geek programmers (I say that with fondness, of course) were jumping up and down and high-five-ing each other and yelling "WHOOP! WHOOP! WHOOP!"
The final straw was asking my dear daughter where the cable to charge her cellphone was and she didn't know.
"I don't know." she said plaintively, which isn't easy for a daughter.
"Is it in your room?" I asked, vexed, which is very easy for a father and comes naturally.
So I attacked the room and found all sorts of things. Most of the things were buried under layers of stuff in the closet. I'm not going to go into most of what those things were in order to protect the guilty and quite messy, but I will list four things that were found:
1. Almost $30, which the aforementioned daughter had no idea she had. (Now I have to take her shopping; I haven't yet told her about my Finder's Fee.)
2. Moose antlers
3. Bigfoot
4. A cellphone cable to charge a cellphone
Bigfoot was cowering in the closet under a pile of dirty laundry. I'm not sure how he got in there; I checked and he definitely was not a rubber suit. When I went to get my digital camera and came back I found the window open and no sign of him anywhere. Oddly enough, the moose antlers were gone as well. Draw your own conclusions.
So now I have one really clean and organized room in the house which I can enjoy for another, oh, three or four hours. But it's clean, darn it. And that makes me really exultant.
And that's not easy for an OCDish-neat-freak-Dad. Really.
Genetic tests are in on the supposed Bigfoot find that Matthew Whitton and Rick Dyer presented on Friday. You've no doubt seen the photo of "Bigfoot" stuck in a large freezer. The tests revealed that one sample of DNA was human and the other sample of DNA was 96% opossum. This leads me to two obvious conclusions:
1. Someone should check the fridge, because Bigfoot could be, you know, just pretending he's dead.
2. Bigfoot continues to elude mankind by cleverly hiding in dense forests and shopping at Wal-Mart after 1 am.
You have to give these guys credit for trying though. An autopsy is still planned, which should reveal if the Opossum Man is alive or not, and if not, how he died. Look for the video special on FOX this fall.
Just a heads up that a lot of the models are showing some tropical trouble developing in the next week or so. There's still a lot of variance, but I think people from Texas to the Carolinas need to pay close attention. Here are only three model shows that show some impressive storms:
Everyone stay safe! Check out AccuWeather.com for the latest. I'll try to post an occasional update here.
There's been a running joke about "Alert Reader Tammy, who may or may not be my wife" on my blog(s) for some time, and I don't know that I've ever explained that. As we just celebrated our 18th wedding anniversary, which I told her was the "LEGO" anniversary but let's just say I'm still waiting, I thought I should explain where that came from. It's not an exciting story, although I'm tempted to make one up. But my point here is to describe why I had appeared to be reluctant to just say "wife!" and be done with it.
When I first started blogging I wrestled with a lot of common blogger things. These involved being broke, spending time on something that would enhance my brokeness, writing to no one in particular about nothing in particular (and then getting hate email for it), and most importantly privacy and how closely to guard it. I was hesitant to identify members of my family and legal team and so the first few times I mentioned Tammy it was in the context, "who may or may not be my wife." I figured there was some deniability built in there, in case someone might had preferred to remained anonymous.
Of course this very quickly degenerated into a joke that I had to use every single time Tammy came up. In fact she was brought up a few times just so I could use the joke.
The "Alert Reader" thing was a bit of irony, since early on Tammy didn't read the blog much, if at all. She still isn't a big reader, although she's since gotten on Facebook which may be a sign of the end times, I'm not sure yet.
That's the gist of the story. We celebrated 18 years of wedded bliss. I'm very blessed to have met Tammy and thank God often. Meeting your future spouse on the Internet 20 years ago was still something of a feat, and I'd guess that most people who managed to meet that way back then, and then get married, are probably no longer together. But that's just a guess. The biggest tip I can offer on marriage, and it's not terribly unique or deep, is that marriage isn't a 50-50 deal. Marriage is a 100-100 arrangement. There are times and seasons in life that will require each spouse to, for a time, give more than they may feel is "fair" or "equitable;" they may have to give sacrificially, beyond what is comfortable, and without rest. For a time. If you instead believe all effort is split in half things will break down pretty quickly. Love is patient, and it keeps no records of wrongs.
Hopefully my dysfunctional body will hold up for another 18. By then the LEGOs really start to accumulate.
(This is a duplication of my post at 37below, but with bonus colons in the blog title.)
I'm sure this has been blogged to death elsewhere, elsewhere being other More Sophisticated Blogs, but it's hard to resist this many eights. This Friday will be August (08) Eighth (08), 2008 (08). And if that wasn't enough to make your head spin, you can throw the time on top of that, 08:08:08 (which is eight minutes and eight seconds after eight o'clock in the morning.) What does all of this mean? Absolutely nothing, I'm sure - but as one who gets excited when the car's odometer turns to some even number, like 10,000, I have to point all of this out and comment on it.
So what will I be doing during the Big Second? Normally I would be in the midst of the morning Getting Ready For Work Ritual, but I plan to pause and yell "WOO HOO!" to no one in particular. Then I'll go back to brushing my teeth or whatever.
What will YOU be doing to celebrate the Big Second? Leave a comment - and make sure to set all of your clocks and watches to the Official Atomic Time. We wouldn't want anyone Woo Hooing a second or two late. And if you end up doing something crazy and exciting, consider snapping a cellphone or digital camera pic and email it over. I'll be happy to post the most interesting, colon-free photos here. Bonus points for any zombies celebrating the Big Second in some way.
I used that title just to entice all of you RSS subscribers who read the other blog. I actually don't have anything really curious to say about 37below. I can't confirm or deny any rumors about the future of 37below, whether it will be discontinued again and eventually rise as 36below, or whether I'll really truly finally have that line of winter weather wear I've been hoping for. BUT - I will say that no matter how many blogs I write (or don't) I hope none of them ever go out on a mayonnaise post.
And mayonnaise makes me think of Disney. Not because everything makes me think of Disney (some things make me think of food) but because I appreciate the attention to detail that Disney puts in everything they do. Often times that attention goes unnoticed, but they know that someone will "get it" - like hidden mickeys put into the theming of various rides and shows. So when I create a category on the blog called "Sandwich Spreads" my hope is at least one person notices and smiles. Of course, one person might be 16% of the total readership, and that may be a lot to hope for, but then again my elbow hurts because I've been spending too much time practicing the javelin. Come what may, I want to thank everyone for all of the reading, support and comments over the last few years - yes, even you Mr. I Like Your Site Buy Viagra Now.
In a futile effort to reach my health insurance deductible I've visited my doctor multiple times in the last couple of months. The visits usually unfolded in the same way:
1. Weigh in. Sigh.
2. Blood pressure check. Sigh.
3. Medication review. Blank look.
4. Doctor finally comes in, asks "How are you?" to which I say "Fine." (D'oh!)
The recent complaints have been centered on my right knee and right elbow. You might think there's only a 50% chance of injuring stuff on the same side of your body, but it turns out this is extremely efficient. Particularly if you can hurt the same side of your body that you use most often.
The pain that I've been experiencing in my knee is something called "Jumpers Knee." It's called that because it's usually associated with people who jump a lot. I, of course, avoid jumping whenever possible - so getting jumpers knee is a form of cosmic irony. The first round of treatment involves avoiding jumping, or running, or pole-vaulting (really, all of the things I enjoy most.) I'm suppose to take an anti-inflammation something or other but not too much as that will cause stomach problems. And, lastly, I'm supposed to put something cold on my knee until the swelling goes down or the knee goes numb or I can't stand.
The second pain, which as I said I've cleverly coordinated with the jumpers knee, is "Tennis Elbow." This condition is called that because it's normally associated with people who play too much tennis, or engage in too much javelin throwing. The first round of treatment is to avoid anything that requires use of your arm. Plus, take some ibuprofen (not too much or it might cause stomach problems) and put ice on it until your arm flops at your side like a dead mackerel.
None of this is intended to be whiny, by the way - I just wanted to update everyone and the Facebook status thing only gives you so many characters. Trying to keep up with the consulting and the AccuWeather Top Secret Projects I'm Not Allowed To Blog About Because It Would Give The Competitors A Huge Advantage is a bit challenging, particularly when I'm spending so much of my time leaping and hurling the discus. But, you know, the Olympics are coming up and it's hard not to get caught up in all of the hysteria.
On the positive side, only $2,417 more dollars until I hit my deductible. And it's only July!
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