Tuesday, June 30

Do. Not. Be. Late.

So the last couple of times I've met my folks at the airport I've been late. First time I blame the Spanish train system (never the same since Franco's death), and last time they landed crazy early and practically ran thru' Customs.

This time we set off with plenty of time to spare and headed for the parking lot of Terminal E.

Side note: I wish an airport would have the balls to go with something instead of numbers or letters. "Oh yeah, Delta land at Terminal Decline, while Continental fly out of Terminal Illness."

So back to E. The entrance for the lot is blocked off, forcing us to do another lap of the airport ... only I miss the turning and instead find myself on the Ted Williams toll tunnel heading for South Boston.

$4.50 and 15 minutes later and we're back. I drop Anne off and try again for the car park. Still blocked I tell the guy that perhaps they should change the "Open" signs on the airport loop. "Sure, I'll get that done", he lies. "Mmm, of course you will", I reply wearily, as the clock in my car ticks to 'many minutes since your parents landed'.

After a bout of Tourette's of which my best effort was "The fuckers at Logan could fall into a barrel of tits and still come out sucking their thumbs", I found myself on the back roads of Logan Airport. It's another 10 before I hit central parking, and guess what, all of the floors are full. I finally squeeze into a space on the 7th floor, and start running for the Arrivals lounge.

Only one of the words in the phrase 'moving walkways' is truthful.

I finally get to the arrival area out of breath, and Anne tells me I have hair like a TV evangelist. One minute later my parents come through the doors and all is well.

Then the machine won't accept my parking ticket. Thumbsuckers!!

Monday, June 29


I'll save you the time of reading the comment on my last post.

An hour after posting, the Customer Service team from the company mentioned in the post commented on my blog!!

Glad you had such a good experience. Let us know if you ever need assistance.

I'm sure they're not reading every blog out there and instead have a monitor for their company name.

Wired wrote this awesome article about them, and it seems that they have a made a systematic change in responding to their customers.

I'll give it a few days and then post again, and perhaps mention that they're giving away free monkeys with every HD package you sign up for.

I expect a comment!


Check your compasses, the position of your thumbs, and ask yourself why you keep floating upwards.

North is South, Left is Right and Up is Down.

I had excellent customer service from Comcast this weekend.

We managed to shave off $17 from our monthly bill. And the return of our 2nd cable box DVR went off without a hitch

The Comcast woman was quick, courteous, and uncomplicated.

And for additional bonus points her name was Umdrella. Like Umbrella but with a 'd'

Sunday, June 28

Dead at 50


Billy Mays just died.

But wait ...

Update: So I'm sure just like everyone else, we are playing non-stop Billy Mays on our music server today. Man that Oxi-Clean stuff still sounds as good today, as the first day I heard it.

Sunday, June 21

Looks like she survived

So .... I've posted about this a few times, but let me track back.

About 12 years ago, Anne and I were watching a travel show where the host stayed in a private villa with their own pool that was both outdoors and inside the villa itself. Each morning fresh fruit and pastries were delivered into a private chilled serving hatch, and the whole thing seemed devilishly luxurious.

The location was Acapulco. I remember as a kid watching Fun in Acapulco with Elvis singing Bossa Nova Baby, and of course Sinatra name-checks the place in Come Fly with Me. So that won it some extra bonus points.

Back to the travel show, we both said how cool it would be to go there one day, and although we never forgot about it, we went off and travelled to all sorts of other great places throughout the world instead.

In the summer of 2006 I had back surgery. Which meant I got to watch the World Cup, and also had time to dream about places to travel to. On Indenpendence Day that year we booked a trip to Las Brisas in Acapulco, home of the private villas with the pools.

As it turned out we didn't get the casita with a pool that goes indoors, however in hindsight I think it might smell funny, so the outdoor pool works just fine.

There's a bunch of new luxury hotels down there, but Las Brisas oozes old glamor. And yes, it's partly faded. The pink and white theme looks very dated, but to me it makes it far more classy. For Christ sake, Sinatra and Elvis actually stayed here!!

And so later this year we are going back for our fourth trip of lazing in the sun. I was tooling around on Facebook the other day and plugged in Las Brisas to see if anything came up. Lo and behold they have their own profile. I asked to become a friend, and they accepted.

Today I noticed a new activity on their profile. Occasionally they do the "famous-person-stayed-here-so-let's-take-a-plaster-cast-of-their-hands" thing. Like the Mann Grauman's Chinese Theatre in LA, only way more old school. I recall they have Buzz Aldrin in the lobby.

Today they inducted ... wait for it .... Gloria Gaynor.

Go ahead and mock me. I vacation in the same place as the 2nd man on the moon, and the woman who recorded the greatest disco song ever.

Your Paperz Pleaze

Next time I find myself behind enemy lines being interrogated by government officials with dubious Eastern European accents I will have 2 passports to choose from.

I am now the proud(?) holder of a US passport to go with my UK version. I believe either one guarantees me preferential killing in a hostage situation.

Anne missed a trick when she lived in England. She could have got a UK passport. Instead each time she returns she gets asked if she is still married to me. Depending on her mood she either smiles or sighs and then points at me.

Where are the bullets Irene?

Happy Fathers' Day to my Dad, who in this shot looks like he is planning a clinical hitman-style kill of my mother on an overcast day in Barcelona.

Saturday, June 20

Friday, June 12


Went to see the incredible Pink Martini tonight.

Watch below and if you don't like them, check your pulse and call for an ambulance ... you may be dead.

Plinky Plonk piano, a beautiful chanteuse and more lazy trumpet than a mariachi convention.

The Opera house was packed with all kinds of chin strokers. People dressed for the Symphony*, hipsters in ironic t-shirts, Volvo-driving blackberry-checking twats, those annoying dicks who go "Woo" during a quiet passage of music, jazz-buffs who feel compelled to applaud any type of virtuoso cadenza.

* Last show I attended here the ticket said Dress Right. So I showed up in a suit only to realize it meant the right side of the Dress Circle.

Anne and I smiled through the whole show. French cabaret, Rio style numbers, Japanese love songs, Turkish folk, café-chantant. Not bad for a bunch of musicians from Portland, Oregon, and the singer is from good old Cambridge, Mass.

Thanks Pink Martini you were scorchio!

Thursday, June 4

Binge Watching

We're currently ploughing through the first season of In Treatment. It's awesome to watch a whole season in one big helping.

Did the same with Mad Men, SatC, Lewis, 30 Rock.

My next big project is to get rid of cable altogether. Just distill everything down to onDemand, Season Passes, Hulu, Roku, Netflix and digitizing every movie we own.

My technical genius friend Sean just sent me a VPN workaround so that I can even watch UK shows on demand.

The future is now! So, where did I put those monorail plans? Ah yes, next to my white unitard ...

Wednesday, June 3

Warning! Liberals at work!

Here's why I love Cambridge.

Driving home the other night, I'm navigating the little Scooby* that comes out by 1369 at Inman Square. I notice 2 shirtless joggers running by.

And of course one of them is a woman.

To clarify, this is not some Russ Meyer fantasy. Instead I got the feeling this was a demonstration of feminism and equality. She was a very sleight woman with cropped hair, and was obviously going head to head with her male running companion.

And you know what? As I surveyed the scene, hardly anyone blinked. She was just out running on a balmy humid night.

A time-saving route. Developed by Anne when she lived in San Francisco. She had a short cut thru' Sausalito to miss the Golden Gate Bridge traffic