tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34391983099390178182024-03-05T17:39:12.096-08:00I Hate PrimerA collection of suburban musingsDanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15600567074245596295noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3439198309939017818.post-42561478409123155822011-11-09T21:51:00.000-08:002011-11-09T22:07:48.025-08:00Sleep"The district sleeps alone tonight."<div><br /></div><div>There's a girl I know in the district who doesn't really sleep. Ever since I saw her, sleep has been different.</div><div><br /></div><div>1. I've had weird dreams. And I can't shake them.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. I grind my teeth when I sleep. I feel the jagged friction just before I wake up. It worries me.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. Bon Iver. Of course, right? <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lIZdKQZV_iU">"Wash."</a> was in my dreams last night. (Click that link. Listen to that shit.) It's a great song but one that I never really remember listening to in depth. It was in my dreams and consequently in my head this morning, and the song has deeply affected me since. Can't shake it.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. (This is only tangentially related to sleep, via Bon Iver and "Wash." I listen to it and mix that feeling with a <a href="http://greatdivide.com/">Great Divide</a> beer and can't help but get sentimental. And it always ends up drivel.) I can't shake this feeling of letting people whom I <i>love</i> know I <i>love</i> them. Rye. Paige. Chuck. Leif. Dustin. Mom. Dad. <i>District. </i>Jake. JK. Baars. Juan Jr. S'matty. Nick. Intellectures.com. Mags. Clark. 1030. HiC. Tonk Bucs. All y'alls who'd better know I care.</div><div><br /></div><div>5. (Sleep stretched to sentimentality, which stretched to this.) I had my best day teaching ever. The kids ended up being better writers at the end of 50 minutes than they were before. I planned the shit out of the lesson. No demerits. A handful of students got that I care about them by the end of the day. It's why I did this.</div>Danehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15600567074245596295noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3439198309939017818.post-12074335261887964882011-09-19T20:28:00.000-07:002011-09-19T20:32:27.155-07:00"ANXIETY" (it read on Greg Kuzma's hat)<style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Times New Roman"; panose-1:0 2 2 6 3 5 4 5 2 3; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:50331648 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-parent:""; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> <p class="MsoNormal">The weight of things passed</p> <p class="MsoNormal">sits on my chest. I’m thinking fast</p> <p class="MsoNormal">of Sufjan songs</p> <p class="MsoNormal">of facial hair grown too long</p> <p class="MsoNormal">of peaks and pics</p> <p class="MsoNormal">of peeps and chicks</p> <p class="MsoNormal">of flags in ceilings</p> <p class="MsoNormal">of political leanings</p> <p class="MsoNormal">(too far left,</p> <p class="MsoNormal">to put to death)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">of baseball games</p> <p class="MsoNormal">of betrayal’s pain</p> <p class="MsoNormal">of submarine sandwiches</p> <p class="MsoNormal">of gravel ditches</p> <p class="MsoNormal">where we almost crashed.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Oh, the weight of things passed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">***</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Are we hipsters, Dave?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It’s a genuine question. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’ve been wearing more flannel.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">My jeans are tighter, my bike recycled.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Dave pauses.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“We don’t dress enough like hipsters.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">That’s not reassuring.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I don’t smoke American Spirits,</p> <p class="MsoNormal">don’t drink Pabst Blue Ribbon,</p> <p class="MsoNormal">don’t wear Ray-Ban Wayfarers.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I do like Fleet Foxes</p> <p class="MsoNormal">and eat tempeh and seitan.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I buy beets at the farmers’ market.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Dave is silent.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">I don’t wait for elaboration. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">I change the subject.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">***</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Renter’s insurance, </p> <p class="MsoNormal">a worrier’s assurance.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Ninety-five fifty.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It’s late. Forgive me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Electronics are covered,</p> <p class="MsoNormal">my worries shuttered.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">On time or late --</p> <p class="MsoNormal">good hands, Allstate.</p>Danehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15600567074245596295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3439198309939017818.post-82130114640256564182011-04-25T20:17:00.000-07:002011-04-25T20:18:09.639-07:00Above all elseIt's been months, actually. More than a year. I left her on New Year's Day, 2010. She got a boyfriend two weeks after I left. She filed the papers almost exactly a year ago.<br /><br />Then, at Christmas, she talks about fixing everything. We've got two kids, so I sort of open up. She came out here a couple weeks ago. She interviewed for a job. We got too close. Too, too close.<br /><br />Today, she writes. Turning the job down. Staying in Omaha. Above all else, I feel stupid for letting her get to me.<br /><br />Above all else, I feel like I had one chance, and it's gone.Danehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15600567074245596295noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3439198309939017818.post-10563615013903721722009-09-24T15:20:00.000-07:002009-09-24T16:07:18.000-07:00The dueling manThere are those of you who know how hard the last year has been for me. There are those, I suppose, who don't know. The details are frivolous. You'll find out eventually. Or not. You'll at least see the results of the decisions I'm making, which are in turn, results of decisions I've made. There undoubtedly have been some right decisions, but all I can seem to dwell on are the wrong.<br /><br />At any rate, I'm in a state of calculated reflection and uncontrollable emotional reaction. I'm hitting extremes and very rarely does my meter seem to fall in between, in some healthy medium. It seems that being a man -- perhaps being a person in general -- <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">inevitably</span> shifts from extreme to extreme.<br /><br />The point is: I'm a mess.<br /><br />I've turned to dueling pieces of art that cater to my unbalanced points of view and in turn help me realize why I react the way I do. They cater to my weak side -- the sadly emotional, weepy, powerless reaction to the sadness I'm facing and my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">pigheadedly</span> strong side -- the wildly emotional, Alpha male, intimidating, break-shit-to-feel-better reaction.<br /><br />Exhibit A -- feeding weak and emotional side -- is the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Bon</span> Iver album "For Emma, Forever Ago." Specifically the songs <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D-bbdtMgwSs">"Skinny Love"</a> and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bWAjIR2SI10&feature=related">"Re: Stacks."</a> Justin Vernon wrote the album on a three-month hiatus at his father's cabin in northwestern Wisconsin. He had broken up with the love of his life. He had endured mononucleosis that plagued his liver. His band had broken up. He didn't intend to make music, but he did as a sort of cathartic exercise. The result is an album of heartbreaking songs about pain, loss, the difficulty to cope and the inability to recover.<br /><br />I had avoided <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Bon</span> Iver during the past few years because it seemed too indie hip. I made a big mistake. I saw Vernon and his backing band perform last weekend in Omaha. The songs spoke directly to me and my situation. It was moving. It felt good to listen to his songs that indulged my need to grieve over the wrong turns in my life and the incredible sadness that lies ahead in the coming weeks, months, years. It consoles the side of me that wants to wrap myself up in a blanket and sleep off the horror and heartbreak. It embraces the side that wants to live in a forest near <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Gunnison</span>, Colo., until the end of time.<br /><br />Then, of course, there's Exhibit B: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Where-Men-Win-Glory-Odyssey/dp/0385522266/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1253831773&sr=8-1">Jon <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Krakauer's</span> "Where Men Win Glory."</a> It's the story of the pigheaded, tragic, heroic journey of Pat Tillman. He was an NFL football player with a comfortable life, a great wife and an unquenchable thirst for adventure who left it all to join the Army and try to avenge the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks. As <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Krakauer</span> -- my favorite author by a million miles -- writes, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Tillman</span> was an Alpha male who believed "in the moral imperative to defend ideals such as truth, beauty, honor and justice. He is self-assured. He is a risk taker. He regards suffering as salutary, and scorns the path of least resistance."<br /><br />It's the justice and suffering parts that stick. I've been wronged -- deeply, soundly and irreparably. I have an unhealthy need to blame and punish. I have an unhealthy ability to trudge through pain when I'd be wiser to walk away. The results haven't been pretty. Broken possessions, burned knickknacks, lost sanity. And, worst of all, the point hasn't been taken. But reading about Tillman makes me realize my reactions aren't asinine. They certainly are wrong, but, in fact, there are centuries of precedence of men acting like ridiculous assholes. You'll be glad to know I've done quite well holding up that tradition.<br /><br />Both creations -- <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Krakauer's</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Bon</span> Iver's -- cater to these undesirable aspects of my character. Sorry for the crassness, but they validate the pussy who's too weak to enact change and the asshole too mean to allow it to happen.<br /><br />I am, in essence, a man at war with himself and his emotions. A dueling man, who soon will have only himself to examine, only himself to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">commiserate</span> with.Danehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15600567074245596295noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3439198309939017818.post-63142126700761816912009-04-23T19:34:00.001-07:002009-04-24T05:36:35.720-07:00Our bathroomOur bathroom was unchanged since we bought it. The previous owners had decorated it with a nautical scene -- wallpapered ships sailing on the ocean, like we had seen on our honeymoon in Nantucket. My wife bought something that looked like a glass flotation device to hang from a wrought-iron hook above the large mirror.<div><br /></div><div>We live, by the way, in the middle of Nebraska, which made the nautical theme all the more ridiculous. So I don't blame her -- my wife -- for walking into the bathroom. She was a few months pregnant when she walked into that half bathroom and started ripping the wallpaper away in shreds. </div><div><br /></div><div>But, you know, it was ours. We bought that room, this house, together. We sought to make it our own. And she, alone, walked in and started ripping it apart. </div><div><br /></div><div>But it wasn't easy. It wasn't clean. The wallpaper stuck. Stubborn. It wouldn't let go of all those years it clung to that dusty drywall. Hell, it shouldn't have been there at all. I'm sure it knew that. I'm sure it sensed that. Ships in Nebraska? Come on. But it held steady anyway.</div><div><br /></div><div>So she chipped at it. She grabbed a metal blade and chipped at it. Tried to make it let go, shrivel in on itself and give in. But, dammit, it didn't. That paper clung there. Stubborn bastard wallpaper.</div><div><br /></div><div>Next, she tried a wallpaper steamer. Tried to use heat and water and technology to make that paper release. It didn't. Of course. Some of it came off. Enough to make things look even more uneven and unclean. Then, she tried a sander. She tried to apply dry, blunt force to that paper to make it relent, make it ... go away. But, of course, it stayed. Shit.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then she turned to me. It was my time to make things better. My turn to make it all go away. I tried to protest. I didn't start this, I said. I didn't grab the slightly flawed but mostly OK paper and try to rip it away to reveal something better. She wasn't having it. This house was half mine. I should try to own it and make it better.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I sanded. I plowed that machine into the walls. Thick dust coated me. I breathed it in. I coughed. I choked. But I kept going. Some of that paper came off. But not much. It remained -- uneven, unsightly, imperfect.</div><div><br /></div><div>At that point, we'd had too much. We bought some primer. (I hate primer.) And coated over the ragged, rough shards of wallpaper. We waited for it to dry before dousing it in putrid yellow paint. We hated the looks of it, of course. So we painted over it again. A weathered blue this time.</div><div><br /></div><div>The paint eventually dried.</div><div><br /></div><div>So when you walk into that bathroom, it looks OK at first glance. But if you stay longer to -- you know -- you begin to see the ripples of those buried shards. You can see where we painted over the imperfections, tried to hide them instead of dealing with them.</div><div><br /></div><div>You can see, in short, that something's not right. You can see those ships that should have long ago sunk.</div>Danehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15600567074245596295noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3439198309939017818.post-78094000945335034892009-04-07T15:50:00.000-07:002009-04-07T15:58:30.600-07:00Belgian beersWow. I've discovered Belgian beers and there's no going back.<br /><br />What I've tried:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Saison</span><br />Ommegang Hennepin -- One of my favorite beers ever. Brewed in New York, but in the Belgian style.<br />Boulevard Saison -- Solid variety. It's spiced, which is a little much for me.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Single</span><br />Ommegang Rare Vos -- Good, not as good as Hennepin.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Double</span><br />Westmalle Dubbel -- Sweet and complex. A nice choice.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Triple<span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></span></span>St<span style="font-weight: bold;">. </span>Bernardus Tripel<span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span></span></span></span>-- Very good. But not as good as their Quad.<br />Delirium Tremens-- Very spicy. Again, if that's you're thing ...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Quad</span><br />St. Bernardus Abt. 12 -- My favorite beer now. Very complex and just incredible.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Wish list</span><br />1. Westvleteren 12 -- The consensus top beer in the world, this quad is also very rare and expensive.<br />2. Rochefort 10 -- The poor man's Westy.<br />3. Westmalle Tripel -- The originator of the style.<br />4. La Fin Du Monde -- A Quebec Belgian-style triple that's supposed to be awesome. I tried it years ago but need to give it another go.<br />5. Chimay -- A common Belgian style in the US that I haven't gotten around to.Danehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15600567074245596295noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3439198309939017818.post-59267878985188406972009-02-16T10:06:00.000-08:002009-02-17T07:09:03.114-08:00Five Senses: mid-February<span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Taste:</span> Cherrmacca beer from <a href="http://www.nebraskabrewingco.com/main.asp">Nebraska Brewing Company</a><br />I'm taking Beer School from Beertopia. Love that place. Anyway, their master brewer guides you through classes that educate drinkers about beer. The first week was a field trip to Nebraska Brewing Company. A brewer there made a porter that he mixed with real cherries. It's called Cherrmacca and is really smooth and mellow. Very nice.<br /><br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Touch:</span> <a href="http://mac.blorge.com/2008/12/18/simcity-for-iphone-ipod-touch-now-available/">SimCity</a> on the iPod Touch<br />I played SimCity on my Playstation years ago and was geeked for the iPod release. For $9.99, it's been a letdown. Anytime your city gets too big, the game crashes. Bummer. Lately, my 3-year-old's been enjoying it -- mostly destroying the cities I've constructed. He calls it "the building and the breaking game." Glad he likes it. Helps me get my money's worth.<br /><br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Smell:</span> <a href="http://www.bathandbodyworks.com/sm-velvet-tuberose--fi-2890956_cp-2831053.html">Velvet Tuberose</a> soap from Bath & Body Works<br />No need mincing words. This stuff sucks. It smells all musty Victorian and should never have been made. It's sitting in the bathroom where my wife began over-zealously hacking at wallpaper. So the walls are all dented, nicked and partially covered in paper. In the end, I guess, this hideous soap is a good fit in there.<br /><br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Hear:</span> <a href="http://www.myspace.com/blitzentrapper">Blitzen Trapper's "Furr"</a><br />Been obsessed with living in the wild lately (above mention of wife is only the tip of iceberg with her). This song would be the perfect soundtrack to those thoughts. It's about a guy who's lost and ends up living with wolves. My interest in this song coincides with watching lots of "Survivorman." Together, they've got me hankering for heading to the Colorado mountains and living a solitary life of climbing 14ers, shivering in a tent and not hearing anything about the news, the mortgage payment or rushes to daycare.<br /><br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">See:</span> Flight of the Conchords<br />Wow. Do I love this show/these guys. Basically it's an HBO comedy about two New Zealand comedy rockers trying to make it big in New York City. In real life, the two guys are actually comedy rockers from New Zealand. This season has been hilarious, specifically <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RZFXbK0lwcU">"Sugalumps."</a>Danehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15600567074245596295noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3439198309939017818.post-85978185498676819532009-01-20T12:25:00.000-08:002009-01-20T12:55:10.392-08:00Five SensesAfter more than a year, let's reinvent this thing. Here are five things dominating my senses at the moment.<br /><br /><strong>Taste:</strong> North Coast Brewing Company's <a href="http://www.northcoastbrewing.com/beer-rasputin.htm">Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout</a>.<br />I love me a good stout (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ie</span>: studying abroad + Guinness = amazing). But this stout is outstanding. It's full of rich, malty flavor and packs a 9-percent alcohol punch. Plus, the history is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">bitchin</span>'. In the late 1700s/early 1800s, the Russian Czar fell in love with the dark British beer on a trip to the UK, so he asked them to send him some. The first batch spoiled on the boat. So brewers added more hops and more alcohol -- natural preservatives that in turn boosted the flavor and zing. Both mellowed on the boat and tasted great when it got to Russia. North Coast honors that style but doesn't allow all that mellowing time, so you get a big <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ol</span>' beer that's awesome.<br /><br /><strong>Touch: </strong><a href="http://toucharcade.com/2008/10/13/risk-like-lux-touch-debuts-in-the-app-store/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Lux</span> Touch</a>.<br />Talking <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">iPod</span> Touch here. I got the sweet gadget in November. I've loaded it with applications and games, but <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Lux</span> Touch still takes the cake. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Lux</span> is like Risk, the game of world domination. It's fun, often quick and -- best of all -- it's free. If you get a Touch or an iPhone, make <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Lux</span> Touch the first addition.<br /><br /><strong>Smell: </strong>Car exhaust.<br />It's been so ridiculously cold here (try -16 actual temperature a week ago) that you have to warm up your car. I hate that. That choking exhaust mingling with freeze-your-face cold makes for evil winter days. And trust me, this winter has been downright evil in many respects.<br /><br /><strong>Hear: </strong><a href="http://www.myspace.com/fleetfoxes">Fleet Foxes</a>.<br />Hands down the Seattle band's self-titled release was the best of 2008. Great harmonies. Haunting melodies. Way laid-back. A friend described them as like the Beach Boys but awesome. You may have seen them on "SNL" this weekend. The successive tracks of "White Winter Hymnal," "Ragged Wood" and "Tiger Mountain Peasant Song" are as good as any three successive tracks on an album ever. Maybe.<br /><br /><strong>See: </strong><a href="http://www.abcmedianet.com/web/showpage/showpage.aspx?program_id=001648&type=lead">"Lost."</a><br />Easily my favorite TV show ever returns for its fifth and penultimate season on Wednesday. My media credentials scored me an early look at the first two hours, which were quite good. The show is a mind-twister but in such a wonderful way.Danehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15600567074245596295noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3439198309939017818.post-75850131804312830172007-12-24T08:16:00.000-08:002007-12-24T08:36:15.852-08:00Six months in a leaky boat<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzAKL5bi4PmHwAteE3LvC634KsiGPDw5BDs5oOCibmjNyIAnGN-nGo0kCvG6jrJF8IYb9amSIIutP-RLsPnCA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Danehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15600567074245596295noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3439198309939017818.post-53775866400664615772007-12-09T19:40:00.001-08:002007-12-09T19:54:50.304-08:00Catching upIt's been 47 days since I last posted. What's happened since?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br />-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.<br /><br />-The Huskers hired a guy named Bo. Bo knows defense. Lord knows we need him.<br /><br />-I got most of my Christmas shopping done.<br /><br />-I asked for a sweet pair of <a href="http://www.zappos.com/n/p/p/7329647/c/46658.html">vegan, recycled kicks</a> for Christmas.<br /><br />-I wrote a funny story about <a href="http://www.omaha.com/index.php?u_page=1219&u_sid=10188492">winter beards</a>.<br /><br />-I mowed the lawn for the last time the Saturday after Thanksgiving.<br /><br />-I scooped the first winter snow about two weeks after that.<br /><br />-My son started singing (cute!)<br /><br />-My son sings Barney songs (boo!)<br /><br />-I was told I'm taking a month off of my regular beat to write a story about the 50th anniversary of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Starkweather">Starkweather</a> killings.<br /><br />-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.<br /><br />It's been boring, terrible, wonderful and historic. It's been -- I guess -- life.Danehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15600567074245596295noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3439198309939017818.post-61778419619640397302007-10-23T16:47:00.001-07:002007-10-23T18:54:39.339-07:00Soy supreme<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQXO1kR5RetmX2mrOJ91e32pVbOXdK9mVHiriE6KD8neK37dvrPW7tAHRjaZNSU8-9N1SnYzygzBUCP5Ds-Vr3iD9VLjX5nHzujEjKOOsEzkzkNSuWPZUl5WFUGL_B_bygul6BwNYMPrze/s1600-h/DSC02596.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQXO1kR5RetmX2mrOJ91e32pVbOXdK9mVHiriE6KD8neK37dvrPW7tAHRjaZNSU8-9N1SnYzygzBUCP5Ds-Vr3iD9VLjX5nHzujEjKOOsEzkzkNSuWPZUl5WFUGL_B_bygul6BwNYMPrze/s200/DSC02596.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124715746299413202" border="0" /></a>Not all the cliches about journalists are true.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />But we do, in fact, live for getting free food.<br /><br />Stone-hard candy corn from the Cartoon Network? Ate it.<br /><br />Crappy buffet while covering a speaker? Ate it.<br /><br />Bad donuts brought by the cops reporter? Scarfed them down.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Watch out for the Nebraska Soybeaners in 2008.<br /><br />Now, where'd I put that free food?Danehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15600567074245596295noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3439198309939017818.post-38409498776514109752007-10-10T17:59:00.000-07:002007-10-10T18:43:17.803-07:00I see rainbows<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicMmKBGjhniRnlkt-MrfNmnAniMo190ZdHaF0M_3Id7AmpWI51t5MhlrHTQOIqqGeCwLKVrHl27DeY4E8AsTCOiokn61xIesNZlU16LL6z64tDFZmg3uzrjxgtDWVgXaEg_W9fXnk7aOhM/s1600-h/band15.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicMmKBGjhniRnlkt-MrfNmnAniMo190ZdHaF0M_3Id7AmpWI51t5MhlrHTQOIqqGeCwLKVrHl27DeY4E8AsTCOiokn61xIesNZlU16LL6z64tDFZmg3uzrjxgtDWVgXaEg_W9fXnk7aOhM/s400/band15.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5119883813602132642" border="0" /></a><br />I've been bemoaning the tragedy of fall.<br /><br />My beloved Huskers -- once a 14er of the mountain range of college football -- have been degraded to a pile pebbles.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />My fall, I've been telling people, is officially over. Might as well be the subzero middle of January.<br /><br />Then out of nowhere there's a rainbow on the horizon.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Radiohead</span> -- my favorite band, my <span style="font-style: italic;">only</span> 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).<br /><br />The album's name, "In Rainbows."<br /><br />In a swift and unexpected moment, Thom Yorke, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Jonny</span> Greenwood, Colin Greenwood, Phil <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Selway</span> 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.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Radiohead</span> has always done this, propelled me through important stages of my life.<br /><br />When I was 16, my best friend Dustin and I jumped in his family car and sped to St. Louis where we saw <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Radiohead</span> 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-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">olds</span> 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.<br /><br />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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Radiohead</span> 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Ogallala</span>, 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.<br /><br />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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Radiohead</span> 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.<br /><br />Dustin and I haven't talked in a long time. He's moved back to our hometown. Listening to my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">iPod</span>, new <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Radiohead</span> flowing, I wonder what he thinks about the songs.<br /><br />I wonder if they've made his fall.Danehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15600567074245596295noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3439198309939017818.post-82662863864739634732007-09-26T21:09:00.000-07:002007-09-26T21:32:37.692-07:00Feel the burn<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiPJ2p7MItd-0lt44oRsxFDIpYQApwHxNhIpb1LdbBpNxyuL-Lq26llfWKO2lf9DPofR-SNZ7iefJhpuM7mROF7mQeQJazo7e-R5rgSsn8djHSXV0zHbmA06YjZvSUimC210-9yazIoJCq/s1600-h/356px-Habanero_closeup_edit2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiPJ2p7MItd-0lt44oRsxFDIpYQApwHxNhIpb1LdbBpNxyuL-Lq26llfWKO2lf9DPofR-SNZ7iefJhpuM7mROF7mQeQJazo7e-R5rgSsn8djHSXV0zHbmA06YjZvSUimC210-9yazIoJCq/s200/356px-Habanero_closeup_edit2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114732588741100130" border="0" /></a>Anyone who's ever gone to a Thai, New Mexican or Chinese joint with me knows I like to bring the heat.<br /><br />Phad Prik Khing? Make it 10 out of 10.<br /><br />A veggie tamale? Hit me with the hottest red <span style="font-style: italic;">and</span> green chili sauces.<br /><br />Kung Pao Tofu? Put a bunch of those seared hot peppers in there, baby.<br /><br />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.)<br /><br />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.)<br /><br />Veronica's eyes starting watering the next room from the heat. Rye started coughing.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Veronica asked me why I would do something like that.<br /><br />Here's why:<br />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.<br /><br />In short, you seek whatever thrill you can get even if it's just a taste-bud roller coaster.Danehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15600567074245596295noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3439198309939017818.post-79678101156928656012007-09-26T20:59:00.000-07:002007-09-26T21:08:59.372-07:00Silly societyEver 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.<br /><br />1. Neckties.<br />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.<br /><br />2. Lawns<br />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.<br /><br />3. Handshakes<br />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.Danehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15600567074245596295noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3439198309939017818.post-76316193237595740912007-09-11T19:38:00.001-07:002007-09-11T20:04:17.266-07:00Where are they now?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHCx3mdkGGRi4J8Q2M58Xeia52zBFDoucvzyfbOM3-yBkTjtNWcH-CpIrxPCcVWRENlaMJ-ZrpCjJFz5QU0NRjVkQCZDz8k79pdmW2q8T57voQkIZHc1ATNocj6vR9f3JqKsGKaiYICmaj/s1600-h/NicholsThen.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHCx3mdkGGRi4J8Q2M58Xeia52zBFDoucvzyfbOM3-yBkTjtNWcH-CpIrxPCcVWRENlaMJ-ZrpCjJFz5QU0NRjVkQCZDz8k79pdmW2q8T57voQkIZHc1ATNocj6vR9f3JqKsGKaiYICmaj/s200/NicholsThen.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109142512529387954" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdXrXVn7C3NZjvLkJ_UZaju71AWCUuwFKRAow_X7G9Ns7WnPHGtwwbQgRvE7wQ1cO-Z_Vyg-GtqCl3PGzlkvy-5lb0avh7_TqJzM8Ss8gyRunuBjLN2rEvWqa64XlfPPeC8w_w3-2b2vJD/s1600-h/DSC02460.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdXrXVn7C3NZjvLkJ_UZaju71AWCUuwFKRAow_X7G9Ns7WnPHGtwwbQgRvE7wQ1cO-Z_Vyg-GtqCl3PGzlkvy-5lb0avh7_TqJzM8Ss8gyRunuBjLN2rEvWqa64XlfPPeC8w_w3-2b2vJD/s200/DSC02460.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109142353615597986" border="0" /></a>Josh Nichols<br /><br />Aka: Nick<br /><br />Then: Daily Nebraskan staff writer and Arts editor. That's him above in the Arts section circa 2000-01.<br /><br />Now: Editor of the Grand Junction Free Press in Grand Junction, Colo.<br /><br />Family status: Married to Katie (Perkins) Nichols. That's her with Josh on the right.<br /><br />Current infatuations: Biking the 142-mile Kokopelli Trail from Grand Junction to Moab, Utah. He hopes to do it in four days.<br /><br />Drives: An old Toyota pick-up with 230,000 miles on it.Danehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15600567074245596295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3439198309939017818.post-50956670183312946542007-09-11T19:31:00.000-07:002007-09-11T20:03:07.643-07:00So far away<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgpA7kNF6YY08ot4fLmjVVfTA9pB461EyI8Uy5ARq87DfVXxcvvK-w3UGGiku_C9Um1RYFU3uv8GorRf6rRXF4rGo3pUUJMf4kG7smaTO6SyKTH7j9c1ijYSXGob9sOXEqXuhTUAOEfcLW/s1600-h/DSC02468.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgpA7kNF6YY08ot4fLmjVVfTA9pB461EyI8Uy5ARq87DfVXxcvvK-w3UGGiku_C9Um1RYFU3uv8GorRf6rRXF4rGo3pUUJMf4kG7smaTO6SyKTH7j9c1ijYSXGob9sOXEqXuhTUAOEfcLW/s200/DSC02468.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109140124527571330" border="0" /></a>Ever wonder why the hell you did something?<br /><br />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.<br /><br />We miss that state -- and state-of-mind -- pretty bad these days. And we kick ourselves for moving 700 miles from it.<br /><br />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 14<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ers</span> to be closer to family. Rarely you can have it all in one place.<br /><br />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.Danehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15600567074245596295noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3439198309939017818.post-57221743953005399642007-08-29T19:39:00.000-07:002007-08-29T19:46:37.101-07:00Random sports stuffSorry if you don't care, but I sort of do. So here are the biggest sports stories on my radar.<br /><br />1. Joba mania<br />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."<br /><br />2. Football and fat<br />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.<br /><br />3. Skers return<br />Prediction time for the football season opener:<br />Nebraska 37<br />Nevada 17Danehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15600567074245596295noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3439198309939017818.post-13953749086297013772007-08-27T19:46:00.001-07:002007-08-29T19:47:19.192-07:00Where 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.<br /><br />Matthew Hansen<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicmrrySHgtyr_R32trFTBc3Aln3zcc11-6C3bdGYVFeBL7Lvl8SwNRq-J14Nd_gU6R6F2yZ-ZlhZLM2tRI-uzH_uC74S0hfU4mXiR1eSFlNtVeVuI_Cx2Ko5NQSywQpqRiR7YxI-ueAv5m/s1600-h/MattNow.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicmrrySHgtyr_R32trFTBc3Aln3zcc11-6C3bdGYVFeBL7Lvl8SwNRq-J14Nd_gU6R6F2yZ-ZlhZLM2tRI-uzH_uC74S0hfU4mXiR1eSFlNtVeVuI_Cx2Ko5NQSywQpqRiR7YxI-ueAv5m/s200/MattNow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103583811311781506" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Aka: Matt, Smatthew, Smatty McSmatt<br /><br />Then: DN sports writer, sports editor and opinion editor from 1999 to 2003. That's his column mug shot on the lower left.<br /><br />Now: Higher ed<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTAoGPA9q4RyKx9NSR0FDMTc_D2WvKS2Jr2yL1FTy5ryXLfEvqsTAt9EMDpBzcjo3zw_nzqFxae4AdwhmlZruq66P2z76wrOha7uhX5ITk88hqptvkiF2saTYgMPOPPCjTydCguW9Vcctk/s1600-h/Smatty.mug.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTAoGPA9q4RyKx9NSR0FDMTc_D2WvKS2Jr2yL1FTy5ryXLfEvqsTAt9EMDpBzcjo3zw_nzqFxae4AdwhmlZruq66P2z76wrOha7uhX5ITk88hqptvkiF2saTYgMPOPPCjTydCguW9Vcctk/s200/Smatty.mug.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5104314771795887762" border="0" /></a>ucation reporter at the Omaha World-Herald. That's his official OWH glamor shot on the right.<br /><div style="text-align: right;"><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Family status: Living with former DN editor Sarah Baker.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Drives: A VW Jetta<br /></div></div></div>Danehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15600567074245596295noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3439198309939017818.post-50652795427495588562007-08-26T19:10:00.000-07:002007-08-26T19:19:23.375-07:00Wow, I'm a huge dork<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK92XBoNor42aIZsEneMY6Rd4-ddP44r1Ik3b6evZGohsHfzV4D23wrcJmwRCmykG_x_kLXvZTZV5LEKZcR2kVgN76kS9kVJv2420XVtCMTBr3iYPFFFwHSlEVMk0gNLP3d6mlW-NHP4pe/s1600-h/DSC00655.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK92XBoNor42aIZsEneMY6Rd4-ddP44r1Ik3b6evZGohsHfzV4D23wrcJmwRCmykG_x_kLXvZTZV5LEKZcR2kVgN76kS9kVJv2420XVtCMTBr3iYPFFFwHSlEVMk0gNLP3d6mlW-NHP4pe/s200/DSC00655.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103198965062190594" border="0" /></a><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.Danehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15600567074245596295noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3439198309939017818.post-78418351308597090262007-08-26T19:05:00.000-07:002007-08-26T19:10:08.125-07:00That's hot<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwPh1p72_nG3m3jJUJYu9PUwq2u03Yk78ahXEM-9eA1oU2roMNXvr7q9WUX0LXvfO6wrmKj7cMkT-8XPLk_MO7vvVjWiGKQN22vokp4oydFRpmcDd-TTDHTBOCtxJnvFMHau2mSKBhLe7s/s1600-h/fire.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwPh1p72_nG3m3jJUJYu9PUwq2u03Yk78ahXEM-9eA1oU2roMNXvr7q9WUX0LXvfO6wrmKj7cMkT-8XPLk_MO7vvVjWiGKQN22vokp4oydFRpmcDd-TTDHTBOCtxJnvFMHau2mSKBhLe7s/s200/fire.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103196564175472114" border="0" /></a><br />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.Danehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15600567074245596295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3439198309939017818.post-66071617315381150642007-08-26T13:18:00.000-07:002007-08-26T13:42:23.293-07:00"Strawberry juice and carrot juice"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKDtUns6TrwMpfrcK59ISVdnNB1MpnHdPCRY5i84pUAKAc-AQgrtgq2cVtSyiklS3XyZuWyf-QcYRmPQ-L6VcuCZsCaHy8rbns0N8uNhyphenhyphentK7aQZvnrWqPmJW0qA52nD54qH_pRZfB-MHaD/s1600-h/DSC02150.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKDtUns6TrwMpfrcK59ISVdnNB1MpnHdPCRY5i84pUAKAc-AQgrtgq2cVtSyiklS3XyZuWyf-QcYRmPQ-L6VcuCZsCaHy8rbns0N8uNhyphenhyphentK7aQZvnrWqPmJW0qA52nD54qH_pRZfB-MHaD/s200/DSC02150.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103106661920032226" border="0" /></a><br />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.<br /><br />Yeah, I know.<br /><br />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.Danehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15600567074245596295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3439198309939017818.post-17741975247626556782007-08-26T10:59:00.000-07:002007-08-26T13:41:26.041-07:00Why 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />So even if you've never primed anything, you hate primer. Trust me.<br /><br />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.Danehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15600567074245596295noreply@blogger.com2