this day in history

When you read about something that happened, say, 600 years ago, you say to yourself, "Damn, that was a long time ago!" But let's think about this for a moment.

A year is not a long time. As previously mentioned, we moved in to our apartment a year ago - and it definitely doesn't seem like we've been here for long. I'm almost 25 - that's getting close to a quarter of a century. Now, a century doesn't seem all that long, does it? Especially given the fact that I have the maturity of a first-grader. But that's beside the point.

My grandpa was born in 1914. He was 10 when Lenin died, and 28 when the Germans attacked. Hell, he can tell you about that day as though it was yesterday.

The inscription on the Plymouth Rock says "1680". That's 326 years ago. Let's say a boy witnessed that inscription being made, grew up, and told the story to his grandkid. If the two were 60-65 years apart in age, then, hypothetically, four or five such transfers could've made their way to today.

Think about that for a second. Then check my math, I'm getting kinda rusty.

I remember one of my teachers saying, "History is being made today". Unfortunately, every history class in high school started with the Civil War and ended with WWI, so we never got around to talking about anything recent.

Still, I remember clearly what happened when the fearsome USSR came crumbling down. For sure, this will be recorded in history books, and other high school kids may even get around to learning about it.

I just don't want my kids to ask, "Do you remember what happened when the US ceased to be great?"

re-signing the lease

To celebrate us deciding to stay in our shoebox apartment for another year, a mouse crawled onto the bathroom floor and died. Awesome.

What's even more awesome is that I stepped on it in the dark. Double-awesome.

I'm baaaack!

Hello world, I am back in business!

For the past 24 hours, I thought I lost my cell phone. All my lines of communication with the outside world were severed at once. Hell, people couldn't even come to my door - the doorbell downstairs doesn't work.

But now, thanks to the usually annoying low battery beep, my phone has been located. It's been in my car all along, safe and sound. Whew.

Now, I can meet up with people, and even find out interesting things. For instance, did you know that Ricky Martin and the Lance guy from Backstreet Boys went out? I knew it all along, but Meg confirmed it - she worked with one of the backup dancer for Backstreet Boys, and that person shared some photos with her. BACKstreet, all right.

dee see

Finally, we get to the good stuff, the DC trip. My boss and I made a deal: we go to the Washington office, I work an extra day on Friday and fly out on Saturday, which would give me some time to hang out with my friends (and make it worthwhile for Susan to come along). Done and done.

Every time we fly out to the McLean office, we run around like chickens with our heads cut off, but get a lot of stuff done. On Friday, I did an all-day contextual inquiry, which really mean that I shadowed a person for eight hours. This person was so non-technical, she didn't even know what the recycling bin on the desktop was for - but she still managed to be very good at her job. It's all too often that we conveniently forget that the barrier of entry to this computer-enabled world is actually pretty high.

Anyhoo, the real stuff took place at nite, when Susan and I would reunite with the DC crew, drink a lot, and have a great time:

Glad to see that the gang is keeping it real. On Saturday, we went to the Tufts vs. Villanova alumni softball game. Now, this concept is really cool - each big school apparently has a tight-nit community of alumni that show up at organized events. Tufts would be better off not showing up to this one, seeing how they lost 37-12, but hey, it was fun to watch.

After the game, we herded off to the all-you-can-eat sushi place on Connecticut Ave. That place is GREAT, although I have a feeling that soon enough they'll have our pictures up with "Do not feed" written on the bottom. This time around, I kept count of how many pieces I ate. The sushi place lost, 25-0.

On a side note, the airline industry is getting brazen in how recoculously bad they are in treating their customers. My flight was OK, but Susan's was delayed by over four hours. No refunds, no anything - imagine if a taxi driver kept you waiting for four freakin' hours?

On a brighter note, here's Mattie, garnished with a beer stain and a Listerine patch:

catching up

I'm so behind on my bloggin' that it's not even funny. Let's work through it, in chronological order. I just downloaded some photos from my memory card, so the select few should make it on here.

First, we have a pic from Todd's party on the 4th. I think that could be a beerpong ball in mid-air, which is kinda cool.

Next, a mammoth undertaking: Susan reorganizing her closet.

And, finally, a mammoth butterfly that was chilling at the entrance to my work:

just say no

Just say no to the Pirates of the Caribbean 2. What an awful, awful movie! Up there with the likes of "Rushmore". Ouch. I think Hollywood finally figured out a formula: make a decent first movie, hype up the sequel, throw some random sh#t together, and cash in your checks.

If anybody has actually sat through the whole thing - c'mon, the ending was a mockery of the film genre. Not only do I want my money back, they should pay me for damages.

back from maine, again

Yup, one more trip down for the count - this time, the infamous Maine Retreat. Jeff Jarrett, Sunny's friend, invites a helluva lot of people down to his parents' house in Limmington. What usually transpires is a lot of drinking, some canoeing, and many complaints about mosquitoes.

This year, things went relatively smoothly. Well, at least the part that I was around to see, as Susan and I got to the rendezvous point 2.5 hours late. We floated down Saco, found a nice beach to start a fire on, and camped for the night. Our tent looked like a mix of a horror house and a broken umbrella, but we made do. Clearly, pillows or sleeping bags were not on our packing list, so we were forced to pass out on the very uncomfortable ground.

Next day, once we extracted ourselves from the river, and the deer flies from our skin, we visited the next Maine attraction - a drive-in movie. These places are a dying breed, and let me tell you why: it's not the most comfortable way to spend your time. But, at least you have a few yards and a cloud of exhaust smoke to separate yourself from the neighbor.

All in all, we sure did have fun, and it was wicked nice to reconnect with nature, even if it was just to say "I'm so glad I work in an air-conditioned office!"

good ol' Moskovsky Prospect

Americans down South say "Why fix it if it ain't broken". Russians everywhere say "Fix it only right before a big shot comes through". It is true - the nation unites as one and looks 100% before a visit from the big guy, before it starts crumbling again. It's amazing.

Clearly, the preparations for the G8 summit are no different.

As a footnote: I lived a few blocks away from the Moskovsky Prospect, and often walked on it. Quite a few times, the entire multi-lane road would be closed just so a line of limos could speed through. Quite a sight.

welcome to hell

Russia's FSB is taking credit for the death of Shamil Basayev, the bastard that killed hundreds of children in Beslan.

One might call it ironic that he was killed by an IED.

Sorry, no virgins on the other side for you.

the real victoria's secret

So Susan and I were in Victoria's Secret, celebrating my raise by spending it all on lingerie (hehe, we so naughty). All of the sudden, it occurs to me - you know how girls always complain that they can't match top and bottom because the bottoms have to be washed much more frequently? Well, using my amazingly deductive logic, I arrived at solution - why not buy several matching bottoms with every top? Ah yes. Generations of women can now be saved from this terrible mismatching problem.

tennis?

Watching a match between Sharapova and Dementieva has rekindled my love for women's tennis. Oh wait, I shouldn't say "rekindled", because I never watched it before. In any case, I was missing out.

maine

We're back from Maine vacation #1. Casey's boyfriend's family owes a humongous house on the shore of Bryant Lake, close to Sunday River. The house comes stocked with many rooms, a motor boat, and many varieties of alcohol:

I have no desire whatsoever to go to work tomorrow, but at least we have a BBQ at Todd's house to look forward to.

Happy 4th, everybody!