Praiseuth goeth unto the DreamHost .snapshotuth

I was catching up on Julie’s blog last night and starting leaving a comment on one of her posts. As I was doing so, I was distracted by my old account settings. I started clicking around blindly… yadah yadah, I set my index.php file to overwrite my index.php file (I got about that far into the conversation with Elise tonight as to why has been down for 24 hours when she said, “uhhmmm, yeah, I think we’re done with this conversation).

So, the website was down last night and all day today. I don’t really remember where I changed the settings in my old account nor what I might have clicked on. So I sent an email to DreamHost support last night stating that, “I did something to break the Internet”. To which they replied, “Josh, we have contacted Al Gore directly and he is personally looking into this issue. If you’re unable to write a newsletter on your website to your daughter in two weeks, the cow farts will have won. And we can’t have that. We’ll fix the Internet!”

So I figured everything out tonight. I had, in fact, broken the Internet. And because of this, you should be receiving emails shortly informing you that your pocket python is now of satisfactory length and dexterity AND that I HAVE AM HEREBY CONTACTING YOU TO URGENTLY TO INQUIRE ABOUT AN OFFICIAL PRIVATE AND TRUSTWORTHY BUSINESS TRANSACTION BETWEEN YOURSELF AND MYSELF is a DONE DEAL!!! We’ll all be getting our payouts next week! Via PAYpaL! Click Here: (IT Is good link. Trust me. It seccured.)

The Internet has broken in the past. And I fixed it. Now the Internet can be fixed even faster and easier because DreamHost allows for faster and easier Internet fixing.

You can now return to whatever it was that you were doing. We’re fine here now.

Benevolent redemption

Two weeks ago Tommy and I saw Tool‘s second leg of the 10,000 Days tour and the Frank Irwin Center in Austin. I was clueless as to a second leg until I happened upon the back cover of a local magazine the week prior to find an ad for said tour.

Despite my wife’s “why would you want to see them again when the last show sucked?”, I purchased two tickets from a guy on craigslist.

Fast-forward to the day of the show. I created a playlist in iTunes that closely resembled a Tool set list from a few nights prior and synced said playlist with my iPhone so I could be well versed for the night ahead.

Tommy met me at the bar in the OMNI lobby at 7 p.m. and we sat and had a couple drinks and caught up on each others’ lives. Quarter to nine we caught a cab that dropped us off at the entrance of the Frank Irwin Center. We had enough time to grab a couple beers at the concession stand and find our seats before the lights went down. We weren’t sure if we’d missed the opening act so we didn’t know what to expect.

The lights went down and the crowd went nuts. I guess we’d missed the opening band!

Tool did what it neglected to do the last time I spent a couple hundred bones to see a live show – they unleashed and captivated this time.

My ONLY complaint was the acoustics, but that was to be expected at the Frank Irwin Center, so it went without bother. We had awesome seats that put us behind the soundboard but with plenty of room to see the entire band and the accompanying visuals on the series of flat panel screens that adorned the stage.

I think the show was exceptionally energetic because it was the bands first U.S. stop after a six week break since returning from the European leg of their tour.

To the best of my recollection, the set list went something like this:

“Good evening, Austin. Try not to get too drunk. We need you focused. Good to see you again!”
Stinkfist (with a funky interlude)
Forty-six & 2
Rosetta Stoned
Wings for Marie
10,000 Days

High energy, very mesmerizing and an absolute blast! I’m glad Tommy got to go with me and really happy that he had just as good (if not more) of a time as I did.

What would have otherwised proved to have been painful

If I don’t check our mailbox at least every other day, we can’t even get into the mailbox due to the influx of junk mail and catalogs. I decided to tackle the former this evening. I prepared myself to speak with an array of disgruntled call center employees but to my surprise, every single customer service representative I spoke to was gleefully full of figgy pudding.

Tonight I unsubscribed from the following mail order catalogs…

  • Norm Thompson: I’ve never heard of nor have ever purchased from this company
  • Brookstone: I go there whenever I go to the mall so I can stay up-to-date on calf messaging technology and solar-powered robot vacuum cleaning coin counters
  • 4 Wheel Parts: We put a lift kit and big wheels on the Jeep a few years ago when we were younger and without child. If I need to put 38″ Comp Xtreme ATX Mud Annihilators and a 6 HP winch on a minivan, I’ll know where to go.
  • Harry & David: Fruit baskets, hams, candy assortments. All ChristmasHoliday stuff.
  • Tuttle: I’m not paying $39 for a pair of Italian cashmere herringbone socks. They won’t go well with my flip-flops.
  • L.L. Bean: I’d rather see a hip-hop duet with LL Cool J and Mr. Bean
  • Sahalie: No clue.

But the best part was talking to the nice folks on the other end of the phone. They were genuinely polite and friendly. And the funny thing is while I was searching for catalog codes and customer IDs, I would find items that I liked in the catalogs.

So I shouldn’t be getting anymore catalogs from these companies, but I’m really looking forward to getting my Revolutionary Self Propelling Tempur-Pedic house slippers with the built-in ViAir gauge and compressor!

And I can’t wait to pry the mail out of the mailbox tomorrow evening so I can call more folks tomorrow!

When the robots have won

An actual conversation overheard this past weekend at the Home Depot:

Self Service Point of Sale Robot: “Eighty six dollars and fifty nine cents”

Human: < 'Finish & Pay' button>

SSPoSR: “Are you using a gift card?”

Human: < 'No' button>

SSPoSR: “Do you have any coupons?”

Human: < 'No' button>

SSPoSR: “Would you like to purchase an extended service plan?”

Human: “…”

SSPoSR: “?”

Human: “…”

SSPoSR: “Would you like to purchase an extended service plan?”

Human: “ON A F***ING CHRISTMAS TREE???!!!”

Monthly Maly Letter: Month 19

Dear Maly,

You turned 19-months-old today. The past four weeks have flown by so quickly and has left me pondering all that has happened since my last letter to you. Regardless, you grow to be more fascinating and even more beautiful every single day. I love watching your grow, but the older you get, the faster time seems to fly by.

I think your coolest milestone this month has been the new faces you have learned to make. You now have a sad face, where you purse your bottom lip and drop your eyebrows. You have your surprised face, where you lift your eyebrows as high as they’ll go while flaring your nostrils. And you have your angry face, where you crinkle your nose, lower your eyebrows and crinkle your forehead. Often times when you’re eating, you’ll deliberately employ all of your emotional expressions which clearly indicates that you’re definitely your mother’s daughter and, quite possibly, schizophrenic.

We spent a weekend at your Grandma’s house this weekend. While your mom was getting ready to take Fall photos of you in the front yard, something bit you on the palm of your hand. At first we didn’t think much of it. I somewhat resolved that a fire ant had stung you. An hour later you were still crying in pain. We had no idea what had stung you and had hurt you so badly. Your mom and I both worried that maybe a brown recluse or black widow had stung you. We didn’t see fang marks, so we somewhat set ourselves at ease. It wasn’t until we got back to our house in Austin that the redness on your palm has cleared and we could make out a series of stinger marks on your hand. It was then that we determined that you had been stung by an asp.

The fear of not knowing is what I have learned to be one of the greatest fears for me as your father. I want to be able to fix the wrongs in life for you, and if I don’t know what those wrongs are, I feel useless. Now I know that an asp will hurt you and from here on out, I give you my word that I will forever rid your path of any asps. You can find comfort in knowing that you can go into the fourth grade and when you’re to tell the class what your father does for a living, you can say, “My daddy kicks asp”. And then I’ll have to pay for your speech therapy.

Your uncle Eric came down from Des Moines to spend five days with us this month. Your uncle Eric really loves you and I’m thankful that you’re able to spend time with your extended family. Two extremely valuable things that you learned from Eric during his stay here were “booger” and “danger”. Danger is a good word because now instead of saying, “MALY, NOOOOO!!”, we can say, “Maly, be careful. Daaaaanger!” And then you’ll know that you should stop whatever it is that you’re doing that your mom and I deem as dangerous, and immediately stick your finger into one of your nostrils.

Just this past week you did something that was very cute, yet very frustrating in the same breath. I was taking a shower when you came up to the glass shower door with my eye glasses. You said, “DADDY!! Eyes.” You call my glasses “eyes”.

I said, “Thank you, sugar. Can you please go put Daddy’s eyes on his nightstand?” And you immediately trucked off into the direction of my side of the bed. I went back to bathing myself and proudly thought of my bright young daughter who understands her dad and takes his direction well. It wasn’t until I had finished showering, brushed my teeth and my hair when I walked to the nightstand to put my glasses on. I couldn’t find my glasses where I had instructed you to leave them.

“Maly, where are Daddy’s eyes?” I asked.

You gave me a blank stare. I then looked down at the floor and saw the ear piece of my glasses poking out from underneath one of the throw pillows. I bent down to pick up my glasses and came up with only the ear piece. You had managed to successfully break my glasses.

So Daddy’s eyes are now off limits for you for the time being.

Regardless, I love you today more than ever. I miss you while I’m at work and while you’re asleep at night. I love checking on you before I go to bed and night. I softly rub your head and whisper that I love you. I cherish those moments more than you’ll ever know.

I love you, Sugar.



links for 2007-11-14

The good and the not-so-good in cooking

Dinner on Sunday:

Coriander and ancho rubbed smoked pork tenderloin stuffed with beef, pork and serrano tamale with a raspberry, chipotle and pomegranate beer blanc. Yukon, yam and adobo garlic mashers and young green beans wrapped in prosciutto, rested in a reconstituted fig and balsamic reduction.

Dinner on Monday:

Yes, those are pork rind nachos. For those of us “in the know,” we refer to them as “prachos”. Or, pretty much just plain gross. Culinary endeavor strike #231.

Ms. Sandman

Dear Maly,

I usually write a letter to you on around the 15th of every month. I just couldn’t wait this time around. You have changed so much in just the past few days and I couldn’t resist the urge to convey the whirlwind of emotions that your mom and I have experienced recently.

As always, you’re the smoochy poochie sweet pea that that we pride ourselves in having created. We outwardly brag about you and impose upon complete strangers all that is ever-so-cute about you. I parade you about restaurants and stores with you high upon my shoulders. We indulge in your every whim. We hold you above all else.

Now I think you’re old enough to where I can ask a favor of you.


Ever since the end of Daylight Savings Time, you’ve started waking up at 5 a.m. Today was Saturday. Daddy would like to sleep in on Saturday. For a year and a half thus far you have allowed Daddy to sleep in if he needs to.

It will be a few years before you can appreciate what a Saturday is. I think I’m going to wait 12 years before I get you back. When you’re 14-years-old, I’m going to wake up at 5 a.m. on a Saturday, walk into your room in a pair of pink unitard pajamas and with hair disheveled, defecate myself and start crying while holding meowing cat.

And then your girlfriend’s from school who stayed over the night prior for a slumber party will wake up screaming. The neighbors will call the cops because terrified teenage girls will be stumbling over themselves in attempt to vacate the house and there will be me, standing in the doorway in a pink unitard emanating the stench of feces with my comb-over hanging to one side of my head.

The cops will ask, “Mr. Janicek, what happened?!?!”

It will be at that moment when I point to you and reply with a smile, “The end of Daylight Savings Time”

And the adults will all laugh, I’ll mow the lawn and you’ll go to school on Monday and have no friends.

So, please go back to bed, Sugar.

The end of Daylight Savings Time and the joys it brings

  • Instead of the cat waking up at 5 a.m., meowing incessantly to let us out, he now starts the meowing at 4 a.m.
  • Maly wakes up an hour earlier
  • It’s dark when I leave the office in the evenings
  • The already shitty drivers in Austin who normally, during daylight savings time, drive 5 miles below the posted speed limit in the left lane now drive 10 miles below the speed limit. You know, because it’s dark and all.