Monday, December 24, 2007

Sunday, December 9, 2007

Catching up

It's been 47 days since I last posted. What's happened since?

-The beloved Nebraska Cornhuskers went in the tank like never before, losing three of their last four games and, in the process, losing their coach. Good riddance.

-The Huskers hired a guy named Bo. Bo knows defense. Lord knows we need him.

-I got most of my Christmas shopping done.

-I asked for a sweet pair of vegan, recycled kicks for Christmas.

-I wrote a funny story about winter beards.

-I mowed the lawn for the last time the Saturday after Thanksgiving.

-I scooped the first winter snow about two weeks after that.

-My son started singing (cute!)

-My son sings Barney songs (boo!)

-I was told I'm taking a month off of my regular beat to write a story about the 50th anniversary of the Starkweather killings.

-While reading court testimony about shootings taking place nearly 50 years ago, the scanners in our newsroom crackled to life, telling horrific tales of real-life shootings happening 12 miles away.

It's been boring, terrible, wonderful and historic. It's been -- I guess -- life.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Soy supreme

Not all the cliches about journalists are true.

We don't all smoke. We don't wear hats with a "PRESS" sticker in them. I've heard at least some of us aren't liberals.

But we do, in fact, live for getting free food.

Stone-hard candy corn from the Cartoon Network? Ate it.

Crappy buffet while covering a speaker? Ate it.

Bad donuts brought by the cops reporter? Scarfed them down.

My wife may have come home with the mother lode from her visit to some place called Grandpa's Farm the other day -- chocolate-covered soybeans. Think miniature peanut M&Ms with a kitschy Nebraska twist. The don't taste as good as peanut M&Ms. They're a littler gamier, ie: Chicken is to pheasant as peanut M&Ms are to chocolate-covered soybeans.

According to something called the Nebraska Soybean Checkoff, soybeans are quickly gaining on corn as Nebraska's top crop. Not sure if I believe that, but I like the candy.

I'd be willing to support a soybean insurgency. Replace all diesel with soy biodeisel. Replace all meat with tofu. Replace are candy-coated-shell sweets with chocolate-covered soybeans.

And -- dare I say it? -- swap out the University of Nebraska's nickname. The Cornhuskers are at an all-time low anyway. Along with a new coach and new AD, we need a new nickname.

Watch out for the Nebraska Soybeaners in 2008.

Now, where'd I put that free food?

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

I see rainbows


I've been bemoaning the tragedy of fall.

My beloved Huskers -- once a 14er of the mountain range of college football -- have been degraded to a pile pebbles.

My vaunted Yankees -- the first chapter of any book on baseball history -- have been relegated to a footnote in the novel of the 2007 season.

My fall, I've been telling people, is officially over. Might as well be the subzero middle of January.

Then out of nowhere there's a rainbow on the horizon.

Radiohead -- my favorite band, my only band -- announced on Oct. 1 that they were planning to release a new album, on which they've been working for years. And they were going to release it in just 10 days. The coolest part: You can download it from their Web site and name your price -- 1 pence to 1,000 pounds (they're British).

The album's name, "In Rainbows."

In a swift and unexpected moment, Thom Yorke, Jonny Greenwood, Colin Greenwood, Phil Selway and Ed O'Brien swooped in to save fall. There are leaves on the trees after all. And they're beautiful, a multi-hued rainbow of leaves. They haven't all fallen dead to the ground like lead-footed linebackers and weak-hitting shortstops would lead you to believe.

Radiohead has always done this, propelled me through important stages of my life.

When I was 16, my best friend Dustin and I jumped in his family car and sped to St. Louis where we saw Radiohead in a dingy bar. They played hits from a new album on the horizon. Some album called "OK Computer," which many will tell you turned out to be the definitive album of the 1990s. That road trip laid the foundation for me to think -- to know -- that you did have freedom in life. As wide-eyed 16-year-olds we cut across the Missouri hills on our own. We were becoming men, becoming people with brains that function on their own, muscles that propel into action. The concert was amazing, easily the best I've ever seen to date.

When I was 21, I had just returned from Britain after studying abroad. While I was gone Dustin thoughtfully snagged me a ticket to go to a Radiohead show in my favorite venue ever, Red Rocks near Denver. I rode in a car with him. His new girlfriend and her friend sat in the front seats, Dustin and I in the back. He told me somewhere near Ogallala, Neb., that his girlfriend was pregnant. His life was changing, branching on a distinct path from mine. We didn't sit by each other at the concert. He and Jessica were busy arguing. We barely even talked. Adulthood. Reality.

When I was 23, I was living in Colorado, married and hadn't talked to Dustin in months. He was in West Virginia trying to be a father to his little girl and carve out an existence with that estranged girlfriend. I got on Ticketmaster the minute Radiohead at Red Rocks tickets went on sale. I got four. One for me, my wife, friend Cara and her ex-boyfriend who would let us crash at his place. The concert was great -- the band unexpectedly played "Big Ideas." Now called "Nude," I smiled when I saw it had ended up on "In Rainbows." I thought of Dustin while I was at the show, how our lives were very far apart. Very separate.

Dustin and I haven't talked in a long time. He's moved back to our hometown. Listening to my iPod, new Radiohead flowing, I wonder what he thinks about the songs.

I wonder if they've made his fall.

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Feel the burn

Anyone who's ever gone to a Thai, New Mexican or Chinese joint with me knows I like to bring the heat.

Phad Prik Khing? Make it 10 out of 10.

A veggie tamale? Hit me with the hottest red and green chili sauces.

Kung Pao Tofu? Put a bunch of those seared hot peppers in there, baby.

Some of you may remember the notorious chipotle in adobo chili soup incident in college. That stuff was so freaking hot I could literally see steam shooting out my navel. (Note: I don't use literally literally.)

I thought I was going to surpass that lore this weekend. A business reporter brought a bunch of habanero peppers (aka Scotch bonnets, aka the King of Capsaicin, aka Lucifer in a Lump) to work. That's the little bastard there on the left. Being the flaming freak I am, I took a bunch, chopped them up, mixed them with veggies and a spicy Szechuan sauce and made a stir fry fit for Scoville. (Peppers are graded according to heat using something called Scoville units, I'm guessing named after a dude who likes fiery treats as much as I do.)

Veronica's eyes starting watering the next room from the heat. Rye started coughing.

After a few bites, my nose started running uncontrollably. My mouth was so hot it felt cold. It was like swallowing a light bulb. But it was pretty damn good.

Veronica asked me why I would do something like that.

Here's why:
I'm nearing 30, married, have a son, work a full-time up-and-down job, live in the suburbs, am slowly losing my hair, the Huskers freaking blow and I have no recreational outlets other than walking a cement trail around a man-made lake in the middle of McMansions.

In short, you seek whatever thrill you can get even if it's just a taste-bud roller coaster.

Silly society

Ever flip by the animal shows and just think how stupid and dirty these beasts are? I often wonder if there's some higher entity out there doing the same with us. If so, they have plenty of what-the-hell? fodder.

1. Neckties.
Are you freaking kidding me? Our society dictates that in order to be formal, you have to wrap a piece of fabric around your neck. It serves no tangible purpose, looks stupid and is uncomfortable. Ridiculous.

2. Lawns
Who was the jerk who said, "I've got an idea: We'll pay thousands of dollars to plant seeds/lay sod in the dirt and spend thousands more watering and fertilizing it. Then when it grows, we have to hurry out and spend hours cutting it"? To that I have a counter idea: Don't water it, so you don't have to cut it.

3. Handshakes
The proper way to greet someone you've never met -- or someone you've always known -- is by firmly grasping their hand. And exactly how hard you grasp their hand is supposed to be a big indicator about your personality. Puh-lease. Why can't people just adopt the curl-of-the-upper-lip-into-a-sort-of-smile-and-head-nod greeting? Seems perfectly fine to me.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Where are they now?


Josh Nichols

Aka: Nick

Then: Daily Nebraskan staff writer and Arts editor. That's him above in the Arts section circa 2000-01.

Now: Editor of the Grand Junction Free Press in Grand Junction, Colo.

Family status: Married to Katie (Perkins) Nichols. That's her with Josh on the right.

Current infatuations: Biking the 142-mile Kokopelli Trail from Grand Junction to Moab, Utah. He hopes to do it in four days.

Drives: An old Toyota pick-up with 230,000 miles on it.

So far away

Ever wonder why the hell you did something?

We wonder that everyday about leaving Colorado. We went back over Labor Day, and it was freaking awesome. We saw good friends, went on hikes and remembered what it's like to have access to a beautiful landscape.

We miss that state -- and state-of-mind -- pretty bad these days. And we kick ourselves for moving 700 miles from it.

But someone once told me you reach a point in life where there are no clear choices. You give up nature for a higher-paying job. You sacrifice friendships to see how you fare on a higher professional wrung. You leave behind 14ers to be closer to family. Rarely you can have it all in one place.

It's just hard to be pragmatic when you hear a stream dart its way around boulders, break the silence of a forest with the laughter of friends or feel the heft of your son sleeping in a backpack while you hike.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Random sports stuff

Sorry if you don't care, but I sort of do. So here are the biggest sports stories on my radar.

1. Joba mania
Joba Chamberlain, the Lincoln native and former Husker, is the buzz of the big leagues. It's pretty cool that he's been lights-out with the Yankees. He seems like a good -- if not foolish -- guy. And he first pitched collegiately at the University of Nebraska-Kearney. So he's sort of a Kearneyite like me. Oh, and it's cool he's named after a fat monster from "Star Wars."

2. Football and fat
I saw two former Husker football stars recently -- QB god Tommie Frazier (at Wal-Mart) and OL/brainiac Rob Zatechka (at a firetruck rally at a bank). Frazier had gained 60 pounds. Rob had lost 60. So they were about the same size. Freaky.

3. Skers return
Prediction time for the football season opener:
Nebraska 37
Nevada 17

Monday, August 27, 2007

Where are they now? Daily Nebraskan style

*This is the first of what I hope to be many then-and-now Daily Nebraskan features. I have a hunch Josh Nichols may be next.

Matthew Hansen

Aka: Matt, Smatthew, Smatty McSmatt

Then: DN sports writer, sports editor and opinion editor from 1999 to 2003. That's his column mug shot on the lower left.

Now: Higher education reporter at the Omaha World-Herald. That's his official OWH glamor shot on the right.

Family status: Living with former DN editor Sarah Baker.

Current infatuations: Hoping the Chicago Cubs make the playoffs and pestering his co-workers to join the Omaha Press Club and drink scotch on the rocks with him.

Drives: A VW Jetta

Sunday, August 26, 2007

Wow, I'm a huge dork


I always thought there might be a moment when you realized you had become old and lame. Sure enough, that moment came when I started getting stoked about owning a Honda Civic.

But I just didn't get excited. I did hours of research. I checked miles per gallon, safety ratings and whether or not it had a jack for my iPod. The worst part: I didn't even have my other car paid off yet.

Then in June I got rear-ended -- a 16-year-old blasted me going 40 mph while I was sitting at a stoplight. Her insurance company cut me a fat check for way more than my Grand Am was worth.

So it was Civic time. Now, you'll see me tooling around in a tiny four-banger sedan instead of my V-6 GT coupe. And you know what? The inner dork in me is indeed stoked.

That's hot


So Omaha is having this public art initiative where artists took a template of the city's O! logo and doctored it up. One dude -- Eddie Dominguez -- made a wooden one and stuck it in Millard. Last night, he set it on fire. A local bank handed out s'mores and speakers blared "We Didn't Start the Fire," "Come on Baby Light My Fire" and "Ring of Fire." Despite that, it was pretty sweet.

"Strawberry juice and carrot juice"


That special concoction -- which is actually strawberry kiwi juice with a splash of red Gatorade -- is Rye's newest elixir. He usually sucks it down while watching Barney movies.

Yeah, I know.

Anyway, the kid's as cute as he's ever been. Laughing, talking, running, bossing us around. It's great when kids get older because they become friends in addition to being children.

Why hate primer?

Because it sucks. That's why. It's one of those things that stands in the way of something that seems easy -- say, painting cabinets -- and makes it a bitch. It doesn't go on evenly, making subsequent coats uneven and ugly. Then you have to sand the cabinets down and repaint them.

Primer, in essence, represents all the crap that gets in the way. It's the traffic jam on your morning commute. It's the dangerously low bank account balance. It's the glitch that won't let you open a Word document on deadline. It's long lines at the post office.

So even if you've never primed anything, you hate primer. Trust me.

The point of this blog is to get at that kind of stuff -- average everyday things that are annoying, interesting or absurd. I'll also provide updates and pics. And I'd also like to use it as a gathering place for friends. Ideally, I'd a like to start a "Where are they now?" feature of former Daily Nebraskan workers and/or Kearney High School graduates. If you fit the bill, post a comment and we'll get it rolling.