Gummy Bacon!

This picture sucks, but it is boxes of Gummy Bacon, which is exactly what it is. Strawberry flavored, shockingly similar visually to bacon.

This box has farmer pig on it, one of the first times that a pig representing "bacon" doesn't make me feel slightly weird. I used to drive by the Farmer John slaughterhouse outside LA when I was younger, and besides the stench that made me roll up my windows, it was icky because there were murals of pigs looking in through the windows.

All I could think was, "What horrors are they seeing?" Their family members being slaughtered? Or was it simply cows or chickens getting the axe? Would the pigs care?

3-D Graffiti in Virtual Space

The Tagged in Motion project. Looks veddy kool.

Via Core77 Design Blog

Hard Day's Night of the Living Dead

Saw this on Boing Boing. Lurve it!



Sorry I haven't been around much. I do have an excuse! Braaaaainz.

Kinetic Sculpture Robots

Theo Jansen is a Dutch artist who creates kinetic sculptures that run on wind and solar energy and are quite amazing. They seem to employ a lot of the techniques used in walking robots, but in a somewhat different way. His vision is to put a whole herd of them on a beach and have them run around, living off of the natural resource that drives them, in definitely.

And here's his kinetic "rhino":


He's also been featured in a BMW commercial, but you can find that on YouTube if you're interested.

In his talk at TED, he discusses how they will be made so that they can sense when they are on the dry sand or in the surf and move back to the wet sand where they "live."

Beautiful.

Sara Likes Cupcakes

We saw these beautiful, simple grafitti cupcakes as we were coming back from the awesome Grand Lake Farmers Market near our house a few weeks ago.

I love silly shit like this. It makes me wish I could live in a real-life Mario Brothers game.

P.S. Doesn't preggo Sara look cute? You should see her stomach now--the alien is soon emerging!

Garrobo in Gelatin

Sara and I went to LA over the long weekend to show her belly off to my family and friends there. It would have been much nicer had it not been a fricken inferno every day we were there. Over 105 degrees every day! Madness. Meanwhile, back in good ol' Oakland it barely broke 80.

Anyway, we had a barbecue with carne asada--my favorite kind of BBQ--and went to a new carniceria. There, I saw these choice items available for purchase. The top is soup made from brown iguanas. The brown ones, as the black dogs in parts of Asia, are the best tasting, I assume. Follow that up with flavored gelatin dessert and you are set on a summer day.

LA is delicious.

I Got Garbage Pail'd

I was a little old to be a rabid Garbage Pail Kid fan, though I love them all the same. Wacky Packs were more age appropriate for me. The classic, the original.

When I saw that I could create my own, personalized Garbage Pail Kid, though, I was all about it. The app is pretty buggy--I get an error whenever I send out an email link--and you can't really export it, so I had to snag-it. But it's pretty cool.

I also got Simpsonized, courtesy of Burger Kill, but there is so little personalization that it could be half the guys I see walking in Oakland.

On 20th St. in the Mission

I think it's 20th St. Definitely at Harrison. This boarded up store gets tagged quite a bit and looks kinda scary--like something out of Escape from New York. That's why it was so awesome to have this guy and his creepy crawlies staring at me as I walked by the other night.

Good evening, Mudd Guts, good to know you.

Strike Ends!

I might want to explain the lack of posts for the past month on some sort of solidarity with Oakland Waste Management strikers, who just settled their contracts and are finally back on the job. In any other city if there were a garbage strike--even a partial one like this one--for nearly a month people would have gone batshit. But here it just seemed to be something to be tolerated.

ANYHOO...my excuse is far more mundane. I've been really busy getting ready for the upcoming appearance of Desmond Riley, the chip off the old robot block. Lots of classes, purchases, showers, obssessing, and planning have made my time a little short.

The good news is everything is moving along swimmingly--he was karate kicking me through Sara's stomach last night. Gotta find a dojo for him toute suite!

Taming the Fairies

Last weekend we had Sara's oldest friend over. She has a pair of very cute kids who were in serious need of entertainment. This was our ticket into the fabled Fairy Land, just down the street from us. You see, you can't get into Fairy Land without a kid (pedophiles need not apply).

Inside, it promised a land of wonder with storybooks sprinkled throughout that could be accessed with little keys purchased at the entrance. The first sign of what we would experience was illustrated in the warning at the ticket booth that about half of the storybooks weren't working. Oh well, all good fun.

The park itself is a total throwback. Very '70s with its bright houses made for kids to explore and slides for a bit of excitement. There were a couple of rides, most of which the jaded youth of today might find a little tame. Overall, though it was pretty amazing to see. I wonder how long a place like this will be able to stay open.

Recycled Art

Saturday we went to drop off our boxes at a recycle dump in Oakland. Scary indeed. This is where all the shopping cart recyclers come to get money for the cans and bottles taken from recycle bins at the curb. Good on them for doing it, but it was a little crazy there with conveyer belts growling and bottles screeching as they go to their certain doom.

Outside the chaos were two sentinels that I had to take a picture of. C-3PO and his orangutan friend were stationed outside, observing the fun. Some genius took parts from the recycling and fashioned these pretty sophisticated replicas.

Hurray for recycling!

The New Year

Amazing show. Sorry Josef couldn't be there.

Last of the Tahoe Pix

What does one do when one goes to a casino? Gamble? Sure. Drink? Mais bien sur! I also love a good buffet. Gorging myself like the Roman royalty that I ain't is always a good time.

The most interesting and exciting thing that we discovered at the Forest Buffet ("Best Buffet in Tahoe!") was this "peach." It's actually a rice bun with red bean inside and tastes better than it looks. Still, it was a mystery that I was excited to solve.

And how often do you get to solve a culinary mystery? Now that's the essence of a buffet--eating food you know nothing about and might never try otherwise.

Cap'n Sara

While we were in Lake Tahoe, Sara and I went up to Angora Lakes. We likee the lemonade there and the beautiful views. When we saw that we could rent a canoe we were all about it. The last time we rented a canoe was in Pokhara in Nepal. That trip was kind of a nightmare, so it was good to have a fresh memory so that boating could be safe again.

Before that, the only boat that I had rented was in Central Park with my friends Carleen and Bruce. Ahh, good times, good times.

Can you believe that Sara is pregnant in that picture? Can't even see little Desmond pooking out there.

Awesome Putt Putt Golf

It's hard to find a good miniature golf course these days. They either fall into the giant castle with gross water all around it and little imagination camp or into the so ramshackle that you risk getting tetanus if you play variety. Luckily, South Lake Tahoe has a very cool, old school course that Sara and I go to when we are particularly jonesing for some goofy golf action.

There are three courses to pay: Fairybook, which is a bunch of fairy tales with some randomness thrown in, Dinosaurs, which is what it sounds like with an especially malaevolent monkey with glowing eyes for color, and the Castle, which is the best and longest and features one hole where a big black rubber spider springs up and down over the hole.

It's funny, I used to play mini golf with my dad in that, "your mother and I divorced when you were very young and I can't quite figure out how to entertain you and your brother" sort of way. He loved golf, but I wonder if he loved the small version. Anyway, my question is, given that I played a lot of golf growing up, why do I utterly suck and get trounced by Sara each time?

Arches in Utah

Sara and I went to Moab on our way across the country to our new place. We were dragging a 16' truck with our car behind it over mountain pass after mountain pass. At one point we were nearly two miles high--going about 10 mph up the hill--but still!

One of the real highlights was going to Arches National Park. I had never been there, and looking at those amazing rock formations and hiking around in the desert--even if it was 90 degrees plus--was a lot of fun.

After we trekked up to Delicate Arch around sunset we went to a restaurant where Sara had a mixed game tamale and I had caribou tenderloin. They were both delicious and really improved upon the crappy lunch we had survived that afternoon.

One thing that struck me about Arches was the amount of rock formations that look like giant penises. While I definitely have a mind that sees private parts in everything, these tackle boxes were out and proud at many of the stops. But of course we would never speak openly of such a thing since it might poison the minds of the children. To me, though, it was a very entertaining subplot as I tramped around.

Hello Oakland!

Finally back on the radar. After moving Sara from Houston with our little alien inside her belly, we have settled in picturesque Oakland, CA. I love Oakland. When you walk around San Francisco with this sense of entitlement. "I own this place. I pay enough rent, so I own this place."

In Oakland the feeling is a little different. After the fourth police car passes you in full-on code 3 (that's with sirens, speeding down the street for you non-cop sluts) your sense of entitlement kind of ebbs. In fact, you kind of wonder, "If this is the pretty nice part of Oakland, what the fuck is going on in the bad parts? Reinforced Hummers with National Guardspeople?"

Remember, when SF was all hippie and shit with peace and love, Oakland gave birth to the Black Panthers. There is a long history of resistance and activism here. I wonder how the current gentrification is going to happen.

Of course I am exaggerating. I love Oakland because it is so different from SF. When I describe it to people it's something about how it is like Brooklyn before Brooklyn became NYC, Jr. A little rough around the edges in a good way, a lot of interesting people and things happening, unexpected things around corners. For example, this little bird. Mr. Heron lives in the bird sanctuary in Lake Merritt and decided he wanted to go for a ride kind of like that guy in the wheelchair who got pushed down the highway by a big rig. He's a Pepper! Love it!

Anyway, love Oakland, love the new apartment, love the Pepper. Someone kill me now.

Goodbye Mission

Next Wednesday I move out of my lovely pad in the Mission and into Oakland. While I am supa excited to move into my new place--mostly because Sara will be there and not in Houston--I will definitely miss the food from the neighborhood.

Case in point is the tostada/tamale van. Now, usually vans like this kind of creep me out...looks like something a serial killer would drive. This van only has ki--I can't say it--excellent food. It never moves from its spot right on the corner across the street from me. The tostadas are amazing and it also has elote the way I learned to love it in Texas--a cup full of corn with sour cream, mayo, grated cheese, and chili on top. Delicioso. I will miss you, Dona Tere van.

Stuck in the Middle, Screw You

As I am getting ready to move to Oakland with my loverly wife, I had a good reminder of what it is like to move anything in San Francisco. My friends, the M&Ms, bought what everyone considered to be a small couch. Getting that couch upstairs proved to be a bit more work that we anticipated.

First, it got stuck (as seen here). We left it there for a bit and sought out the correct screwdriver to remove one leg. Looking at it, it was a strange screw--inset square. So of course nothing fit. Upon calling the shop, the informed M that the couch was Canadian, as was that special screw. Blame Canada. We had to go to the shop and borrow their drill bit, bring it home, and perform surgery on one of the legs to get it upstairs.

It's a beautiful couch, but I dread moving our normal-sized furniture into our new apartment in four weeks. The only thing keeping me going is the thought that our back door looks out onto the parking lot, so we should have minimal problems getting things in. Should have. You can never count on any move going easy in this town.

Magic Fingers

My cousin had an amazing old-skool organ in his basement. He got it free at a yard sale in Pueblo--one of the great things about living in a small town is that you are more likely to get in on a lucky find. I could only imagine what this could have fetched in SF on kitsch value alone. I mean, look at the font for the name. C'mon!

I only had time to mess with it for a few minutes, but I can only imagine that the full sound effect had a lot of magic.