26. September 2008 by Michael.

Odds are good that if you are reading this, you are already familiar with the story. Nonetheless, it has been a month since my last blog post and this is currently the most significant thing I have to discuss.

One week ago today I went out on the best date of my life. The best part is: I planned it. It was my idea. And apparently I am the first person (at least in this area) to think of it.

It went a little something like this:

The only thing I know about women is that I know nothing about women. That said, I am under the distinct impression that a woman wants to be charmed and swept off her feet. They want the fairy tale. As men, we often fail to deliver. This time I was determined to dig deep and try harder.

Objectives: I wanted to do something A) romantic B) classy C) that no one else had ever done D) something that provided plenty of time for talking and getting to know one another (key ingredient)

Vision: What woman would not be swept off her feet by dinner and moonlight dancing under the stars? None that I know…or care to know anyway.

Plan: Outdoor dates have variables. My plan was facing several key variables/obstacles. 1) weather 2)wildlife (mosquitos) 3) location 4) privacy 5) timing. A moonlight dance under the stars does not sound like such a good idea if you are sweating hot, being eaten by mosquitos, in a poor location, and cannot see any stars due to city lights or clouds. Fortunately I know of a place where all of the variables cease to exist. A planetarium!

Execution: I called Sciport. I explained to them that I wanted to rent the planetarium for a private party of two. To say the least, they were a bit perplexed. They informed me that no one had ever offered such a request before. JACKPOT! This means that I am the first! Take that original idea! After meeting with their friendly staff, we discussed my requirements and negotiated compensation for the arrangements. We would arrive after hours, watch a short "ooh" and "ahh" video, and then be left alone with the stars on the ceiling and music playing so that we could have a nice intimate evening to our selves. 1 hour should be plenty. In conjunction, I made dinner reservations at Shogun to follow the main event. Again, this is an excellent place to have a date because it offers plenty of time for conversation as well as entertainment that can A) provide conversation for a good date B) provide entertainment relief for a bad one.

Result: Everything went fairly according to plan. We had a phenomenal time. I say "we" because she is sticking around for more. This simply has to be one of the best ideas I have ever had. And it was really very simple. The amazing part to me is that no one else had ever made such a request. I realize that I am not married and therefore still have to be on top of my game to impress, but still, no one else ever tried this? The idea seems really straight forward to me. I am left with the lone conclusion that we simply need to try harder. It wasn’t that difficult, and the results were impeccable.

Finally, I would like to offer my special thanks to Mike Asher (Sciport) who helped me plan this event and Tiffany (Sciport) who was our host for the evening. Without them, and the rest of the wonderful staff at Sciport, this would not have been possible. Thank you all for your help.

For those of you wondering: Yes, you can contact me and ask me to help you plan an evening like this for yourself.

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18. August 2008 by Michael.

I love cars. I love modes of transportation in general. Planes, trains, automobiles; you name it. For me, it is not merely a means of getting from point A to point B. It is a journey to be experienced. Driving is an experience for me. I enjoy it.

It is this connection that draws me to cars. I love every nuance about them. I get excited about them. It doesn’t even have to be a new car. It can be a car new to me. I get excited getting into someone else’s car if it is one I have never been in before. I feel a rush of excitement as I explore every detail of the cabin and study every line of the body.

Recently as I watched the Olympics, I saw a car commercial for something new. As this new car graces my screen I had to pause and rewind the DVR to view the full commercial. Low and behold, it was the Hyundai Genesis. This is significant for 2 reasons:

1) I have dealt out a lot of shit to others (sorry Chris) for owning a Hyundai. Frankly I have dealt it out to others for even defending the desire to own a Hyundai.

2) Hyundai has done something that neither Ford nor Chevrolet could do: they inspired me to take a second look

I’m going to focus on the 2nd point here because I do not see myself becoming a Hyundai owner anytime soon. Now, we do not yet know if this car is a legitimate car or a pile of rubbish. It really doesn’t matter. Hyundai has produced a car that I would like to see in person. I want to touch it. I want to smell it. I want to drive it. There is not a single car in the Ford or GM stable that allows me to make the same statement. Believe me. I looked. I wanted to find one. I’m going to exclude the 2009 Chevy Camaro and the 2010 Chevy Volt from this exercise because they are not currently on the market. The Corvette is by far the best value for your dollar sports car in the world. That being said, the rear end wobbles in the wind due to no structural support and the interior is made of Tupperware. I am not paying $60k+ for that. The Mazda RX8 was inspiring when it debuted, but it is the sort of car you want to rent for a weekend. It isn’t a car you want to really own.

Where is the magic? Where is the inspiration? How can Ford and GM designers sleep at night knowing that their companies are falling into a endless pit of despair while they turn out the same old uninspiring garbage while Hyundai can produce something like the Genesis? What is worse is that it will probably be cheaper, have a better warranty, and be more fuel efficient than anything in either the Ford or GM fleet.

American cars have lost their sense of value. They have no passion. They don’t put a smile on your face every time you strap yourself in behind the wheel. We have to reclaim that.

Here is my plan:

1) Hire a German for engineering. Their stuff actually works.

2) Hire an Italian for upholstery and design work. Italians know style.

3) Pay Steve Jobs whatever he wants to design the entire cabin and all user interfaces. If Steve knows anything, it is how to make technology look sexy.  (see iPhone)

If you can’t beat ‘em, steal their stuff and claim it as your own.

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16. August 2008 by Michael.

I have discussed this many times recently and no one believes me when I say that the Olympics is a breeding fest for athletes. Beijing provides 100,000 condoms for athletes. There are between 10,000-11,000 athletes participating in the Bejing games. You do the math.

Now that you have crunched the numbers and recovered from the shock, let’s think about this rationally for a minute. You have 10,000 professional athletes in at the peak of their hormones in their lives. They are all gathered together for a common purpose. They all share in a common background with a common dream. Most of them are attractive. Few are married. Throw in the sweet smell of victory combined with the bitter taste of defeat and wash it down with some alcohol. Are we getting the picture? Do you mean to tell me that when Michael Phelps finishes his last lap around the pool and begins walking around the Olympic grounds with more gold around his neck than Mr. T he won’t have at least one gymnast (or gymnastics team) throw herself/themselves at him?

Had someone told me about this at a younger age I would have made it my life’s goal to become an USA Olympic Team alternate (I’m convinced Phelps cannot be beaten). If anyone would like to start a curling team and shoot for the 2010 games in Vancouver or the 2014 games in Sochi let me know.

Additional Sources: http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=merron/040811

UPDATE: Apparently the athletes at the Beijing games are not living up to the standards set by previous Olympians. Current reports say that 2/3 of the 100,000 condoms made available to the athletes are still sitting unused. (http://sports.yahoo.com/top/news?slug=ap-oly–athletes-condoms&prov=ap&type=lgns)

How very, very sad. There again, now that Michael Phelps has finished the butterfly and the backstroke maybe he can get on to the breaststroke. ZING! That’s right. I went for the easy breaststroke joke.

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15. August 2008 by Michael.

Of all of the reasons I could hate Myspace (and believe me there are many) Tila Tequila is #1. Seriously, WTF?! No. Seriously. WTF? This orange midget baring an alarming resemblance to an Oompa Loompa is now famous and terrorizing my television all because she had the most friends on Myspace. As if this is not enough, there is the general format of the pages typically found on Myspace. I don’t need excessive flash. I don’t need to automatically hear your favorite crap music. Most importantly, and I do mean most importantly, is that I don’t care one ounce about any of the ridiculous, uninformative, crap posts that cover my screen. When the graffiti on a passing train or overpass is more informative, more amusing, and has better spelling and grammar than the posts on your Myspace page it is time to get some new friends.

Facebook is the alternative to Myspace for educated people. Or so it is claimed. The truth is that you have to be to use it. For starters, the search engine does not work. It never has. In order for you to be friends with someone, you have to find them using the intuitive search and complete a courtship process. It goes something like this. Not to mention that this process begins by you looking through hundreds of pictures 5 pixels in size and trying to determine if those 5 dots are someone you knew 10 years ago. Once you identify all of your old friends who were not important enough to keep up with in the first place over the years through their 5 pixel pictures, Facebook will make sure you stay informed with what is going on in their lives. Very informed. So informed that if you do not turn off all of its notifications you will end up with this:

I can not fathom how anyone thought that to be a good idea. But I digress. Apparently everyone thinks that their life is so special that the whole world should know about each second of it. More alarmingly, they are nosy enough to want to know what everyone is doing at any given second as well. So, since America has turned into the old people who live next door and peer through the blinds at you all day, the internet gods gave us Twitter. Consider this the beginning of the end.

Now with Twitter you can know exactly what all of your friends are doing at any given second. Doesn’t that sound exciting? It isn’t. Allow the fine people at Penny-Arcade to demonstrate. I give you Le Twittre: 

Excellent. Now when computers run by rat brains start a war against humanity and send a Terminator back in time they will have a documented history of all of your bowel movements so that it can pick an opportune moment to kill you. And it will be all your fault because you just had to tell all your Facebook friends from the old school days to check out your Myspace so that they could see your friend’s Twitter page which lets them know they are dropping a deuce which can be seen on RateMyPoo.com.

This is what we have become. I’m just afraid that this is as good as it gets.

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15. August 2008 by Michael.

And by “we” I mean “me.” But nonetheless, after a long hiatus, I

have returned to the internets.

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