Monday evening a promise was kept and shopping commenced for a lightsaber for the little phisch. We charted a course toward the Toys R Us system, arriving there just a few parsecs after dinner time. (It might've been faster if Solo had loaned us the Falcon, but whatever, he's too busy dodging Imperial cruisers or something.) The purchase was made of a blue lightsaber, because we figured this would juxtapose nicely with my own double-bladed, red lightsaber. (And, more importantly, it was the only color in stock.) Alas, by the time we arrived back home at Echo Base, it was bed time for the little phisch, so any dueling with Daddy would have to wait another day. The new lightsaber spent the night on the night stand next to the boy's bed. Last night, the promised duel was held. The missus insisted it take place outside, so on to the back deck we went. Daddy only used one of his saber's blades, to, you know, keep things "fair". Both of us had an awesome time. The little phisch held nothing back. Every swing of his blade was meant for limb severing, for disemboweling, for decapitation (if he could have reached my neck, that is). My knuckles held the proof of his relentless onslaught. I also learned a bit of how Count Dooku and Palpatine must've felt going up against Yoda: it's actually tough countering the attacks of someone half your size. That, and since I was seeking to have fun with my little guy without causing injury, played a part in my own defense and counterattack. (For the record, yes, I injured the boy, but it was a tap on the shoulder that didn't even leave a mark, and he was quickly over it.) The little phisch is also quite the drama king. He has a great fake death scene, acting it out more than once when I stabbed him in the tummy. We should get video of that.

From Amy Gruber, on Twitter:

What's worse than going to a bachelorette party at a male strip club? Going with your mom.

It's been difficult trying to explain Twitter to some of my friends and family. (My wife just doesn't get it.) Thanks to Twitter's "unpaid evangelist", Robert Scoble, I came across Rafe Needleman's great intro to the Twitterverse. Read, join, add me as a friend.

Last night, the missus had a work-related dinner to attend, so it was a guy night in the phisch bowl. The little phisch consumed mixed veggies and fish sticks (the irony of this statement is not lost on me), whereas I consumed mixed veggies with leftover red beans & rice. And we watched Star Wars. The first attempt at the viewing with my son of the movie which made such a tremendous impression upon me when I was six was met with some...boredom. He knew who some of the characters were, after all. I don't think you can know me at all, or swim in this tank we call home, without encountering, in some random, non-deliberate fashion, characters from the Star Wars universe. But we never really made it through that first viewing of the movie. Not together, anyway. While he decided he was bored and went off to play with Thomas on the train table, or roll Lightning McQueen around the floor, I finished watching the movie. Because, c'mon, it's Star Wars. I'm not sure what changed between then and now. Perhaps it was my receiving the entire Star Wars Mr. Potato Head collection for my birthday this past December. Darth Tater, Storm Tater, and R2 Tater have all occupied a place of semi-honor in the formal dining room, and the little phisch has been allowed to play with them. We've read this Luke Skywalker children's book I picked up two years ago at the Friends of the Flower Mound Library fund raiser. But we haven't really talked about the movie all that much. So I was pleased when I was greeted with a enthusiastic response after suggesting Star Wars last night. After dinner, we enjoyed watching about an hour of it. He asked a lot of questions. A lot. I'm not sure I can begin to describe the totality of "a lot of questions" to those of you who do not have three year-old boys. Bed time was approaching, and we agreed to stop the movie after an upcoming scene. The missus arrived home just about that time, the movie was stopped, and the bedtime rituals commenced. The payoff came this morning. I stumbled downstairs, where the missus and little phisch were already eating breakfast, and on the TV I'm greeted by...Star Wars. Han and Luke are firing down the detention bay while Leia's already diving in to the garbage chute, and Chewie's complaining about the smell. I'm informed, "Daddy, those are stormtroopers!" I smiled, gave him a pat on the head, and turned so the missus wouldn't see the tears welling up. It's done. He's converted. Oh, I forgot to mention he wants his own lightsaber now. He told me last night. Where are the tissues?

Will It Blend? has to be one of the more brilliant ad campaigns to come along, especially for something as unexciting as a kitchen appliance. Tom Dickson actually gets paid by Blendtec to try to blend whatever his little heart desires, and Tom's latest desire is glow sticks. Yes, glow sticks.

(Do any CBCers think that Tom Dickson is like an evil genius clone of Mike?) [Wave of the phin to Lee. ]

Well, well, well. The cat is out of the bag. I told you it might not be long. So the missus calls me while Brent and I are still at lunch, and in the course of the conversation informs me I'm "busted", that she's activated her WalkAmerica site, and she's already started emailing her friends. Now, you have to understand the different circles my wife and I run in. She's an attorney (pipe down there in the back; it's corporate law, not ambulance chasing or class-action cannibalism), so naturally a lot of her friends are attorneys, which, as a group, tend toward the wealthier side of the populace. I, on the other hand, am unemployed. You can see where I'm going with this, can't you? Given my past, most of my friends tend to be in the IT and creative fields, or in some sort of service area, and thusly, as a group, tend toward the less-wealthier side of the populace. Thus, I have to make up for this disparity in numbers of donators, and would appreciate all the help I can get. To top it all off, that minx I'm married to set her goal forty bucks above mine!

So. Returning from lunch, as I drove by the KFC/Taco Bell our burg is privileged to have, I noticed the three US Postal Service delivery trucks parked next to one another near the entrance. And the thought that ran through my head was: "I'm glad they have to stay in those trucks to deliver the mail." (See, because it's Taco Bell, right? And Taco Bell serves...oh, never mind.)

Wishing a joyous and loving birthday for you, my friend. As I stated in my comment to your post, I shall celebrate with some Lost And Found and by starting This Beautiful Mess. See you at lunch. :D

"Paris Hilton Magazine - Resourceful Customer Service Representative" Here's a couple of amusing bits (beyond the fact that Paris is using daddy's millions to start yet another meaningless "fashion" magazine):

• Process orders that come from the internet, mail, and phone calls for paris hilton.
• Data base upkeep for paris hilton trend.
• Reply paris hilton to customer emails. Gosh, atrociously bad grammar aside, it sounds like you'll be working side by side with Ms. Hilton herself, doesn't it?!?! Oh! Joy of my heart, be still! In response, I shall employ 1980s Valley Girl linguistics: like, gag me with a spoon.

"What's this?"
"Viewer mail."
"It's been opened."
"I pay Suzanne an extra five dollars a week to check our mail for anthrax." Dialogue like this is why I watch Studio 60. And don't we all wish we could be so clever with the snappy talk in real life?

And wouldn't you know Comedy Central's got it running on and off throughout the day. It's one of those movies I can watch any time, so why not on the day it celebrates?

As Chris said when he pinged me via IM, "Someone's going to get a PhD out of this."

Kudos to the gang at Feedburner for the gratuitous usage of Star Wars references in their Hackathon post. My favorite:

Traveling through stats ain't like dusting crops, boy! Without precise calculations we could fly right through an aggregator or bounce too close to a subscriber and that'd end your trip real quick, wouldn't it?

iRebecca
Originally uploaded by paul beefs.

I don't recall Steve Jobs talking about this new product during the Macworld Expo keynote.

Scott McNulty noted Tweet in his Twitter feed as well as on TUAW. I downloaded Ted Leung's Growl-modified version of Coda Hale's script. Coda has good installation and usage instructions in the original Tweet script, which you can use if you don't care about Growl support. Tweet combines the power of AppleScript with that of Quicksilver (you are using Quicksilver, aren't you?) to make posting to your Twitter account easier and faster than ever. Sorry, Windows users, but all of this, except the Twitter service itself, is Mac-only.

I was going to blog about this yesterday, until I got slammed with the norovirus, aka, the stomach flu. My beautiful bride had Monday off (if the stock market's closed, her office is closed), so we did some shopping, sans little phisch, and decided to take in a movie. I wasn't in the mood for anything too serious, and the movie I really did want to see, Eragon (great book), has all but disappeared from most theaters. So we decided on the Ben Stiller vehicle, Night at the Museum. We at the phischbowl heartily recommend Night at the Museum. It's wholesome fun for the entire family, and you may even learn a thing or two. (Regarding the "entire family" bit: I wouldn't take my three year-old, mostly because he'd probably be bored, but I can see my friend's second-grader thoroughly enjoying the film.) Ben Stiller is, well, Ben Stiller, though not in a goofy Zoolander sort of way, more like in an Along Came Polly or Meet the Parents sort of way. Robin Williams is great as Teddy Roosevelt, though not in the usual obnoxious Robin Williams sort of way. I thought Steve Coogan was very amusing as Octavius, and a great foil for the uncredited Owen Wilson's Jedediah. Dick Van Dyke, Mickey Rooney, and Bill Cobbs are great as the three retiring security guards Stiller's Larry Daley is taking over for. One hint: don't leave immediately when the credits roll; there will be two more scenes within the credits you don't want to miss.

I confess I've been sucked in to the world of Twitter. It's kind of addictive, watching what folks like John Gruber, the Iconfactory boys, Maury McCown, and even Darth Vader, are up to. I'd love to know if my friends have accounts, so I can add you as a friend to mine, and please feel free to add me as a friend to yours. Ping me via IM, drop me an e-mail, or leave a comment. One cool thing Twitter did last week was they created a Macworld account. By adding this account as a friend, you could follow the postings of those at Macworld Expo as Steve announced the latest and greatest tech from our favorite fruit company. There were so many messages coming in to Twitter through AOL Instant Messenger that Twitter exceeded its allowable AIM traffic, and that service was unavailable for about a day. (To clarify, you couldn't post to Twitter via AIM; Twitter and AIM were each unaffected.) You can post to Twitter via your Twitter page, by instant message (Jabber or AIM), or by text message from your mobile phone. (Text message charges from your mobile provider apply, but there's no charge from Twitter.) If you're a Mac user, you can also use Maury McCown's TwitterPost, or the just-released-today Twitterrific from those aforementioned boys at the Iconfactory. Both apps are freeware. So the question remains, what are you doing?

Why does my artificial tree shed? Does that not defeat the point--or at least one of the points--of the artificial tree? (Yes, I'm just now putting the artificial tree back in the box and storing it away for next year.)

There are few words I can think of at the moment which are scarier than "First Officer Chris Lawson". Except, of course, "Captain Chris Lawson". Seriously, Chris, congratulations on the job. Our Mr. Lawson will be flying the skies on behalf of American Eagle in the very near future.

If you've ever wondered what Panic co-founder Cabel Sasser sounds like when he's singing, you can find out from viewing the hilarious Buggy Saints Row: The Musical. (Caution: Some adult language in the songs.) [Wave of the phin to John.]

Cleaning out my wallet, I discovered the fortune from the last fortune cookie I had:

Alright, alright, keep the laughter to a minimum.

You've all heard the adage (wrongly attributed lately, online, to Oprah): "Duct tape is a lot like the Force. It has a light side, a dark side, and it binds the galaxy together." You may have seen the various offerings of the duct tape wallet. Now, that amazing greyness has been used to create: The Duct Tape Shopping Bag.

It's not really important how we got to this point of the discussion, just that we got to it.