Bat, man

It was a night like any other on Wednesday, when I heard Teak scampering around in the kitchen. I figured he had just found a toy or some insect or other, but I went in to check it out just to be sure. I looked down at Teak and saw nothing. Teak, on the other hand, was looking up in the air, and my eye just caught a glimpse of something flying across the room.

"Oh my god," I said to Kia. "It's a bird."

She came to the kitchen door. She then let out a little scream and a few cuss words and told me in no uncertain terms that I was not looking at a bird. No, it was a bat.

Armed with this new knowledge, both of us retreated to the furthest place in our apartment away from the kitchen, which turns out to be our sort of dining room/computer area two rooms away. All we can do is stand there and: a) wonder how the hell a bat got into our apartment; and b) try in vain to figure out a way to get the bat out of our apartment with minimal person-to-bat contact.

Do we have a net? No.

What about a pillow case? Would that work? Meh, it might, but it necessitates getting rather close to the bat.

Ok, we'll try to urge it out into the hallway, close the hallway door, and then open the front door and it will hopefully fly out.

Good. Meanwhile, the bat, likely more freaked out that it's in our apartment than we are, has continued to circle the kitchen, making occasional passes into the living room. Kia and I have armed ourselves with pillows, prepared to ward off the bat, should it veer blindly into our general comfort zone. The dogs are having a blast. Teak tracks the bat wildly from the floor, never getting aggressive, just following it like a good game hunting dog. Moose, on the other hand, gets up on his hind legs every time the bat flies low enough for him to attempt this. He snaps at it, and each time I think we're going to end up with a bunch of bat blood on the carpet and a little bat corpse to dispose of. Fortunately, Moose isn't very skilled at this game and his misses consistently. Fun to watch a huge dog try to do that, though.

Eventually, after many feeble attempts to keep the bat away from us, it disappears. It was like a horror movie, I kid you not. It's all intense and scary and then boom - no bad guy. Silence. Where's the bat? Where did he go? The dogs had been so good and vigilant the entire time in keeping track of it. Where could it possibly be? I have a feeling it's behind the couch. I move it a little. Nothing. I nudge the couch more insistently. Out it comes again. Newfound chaos. Dogs are tracking it again.

Finally, Kia comes up with the idea of opening the living room window with the hopes that the bat will swoop out. A few minutes later, it finds itself right on the window sill, and for the first time we can see its little body. The heart is beating incredibly fast. I almost feel bad for swatting it with my pillow. After the brief rest on the window sill, out it goes. I close the window quickly.

I can say we moved around the apartment a little more cautiously for the next few minutes. It really changes how you think about the place you live when you've got a bat swooping and circling through it. I have since been told that bats in Missouri don't strike or attack. Somehow, that doesn't make me feel any better.

America's drunkest cities

As much as I hate reproducing material from other parts of the web, I thought some of you might enjoy this, courtesy of the Sports Guy:

10 drunkest cities in America

9. Providence, R.I.
9. Philadelphia
8. Pittsburgh
7. Cleveland
6. Chicago
5. Austin, Texas
4. Boston
3. Columbus, Ohio
2. Minneapolis-St. Paul
1. Milwaukee

A 9% chance - of being good

I have previously discussed my love of High Fidelity.

Not so sure, however, about a musical of the same title being made.

There is a funny clip of music previews here. There's an entire song dedicated to the 9% chance that Rob has of getting back together with Laura. He croons about his top 5 most painful break-ups.

This should start me on a discussion of all of the awful choices they're making in terms of new plays and musicals. It's like the well has dried up, and all they can do is look to Hollywood for successful movies to morph into new products for the stage. Not just movies either. Movie stars are more and more being used to revive dying productions on Broadway and put people back in the seats. I would go on, but I must head to school now.

I mean, High Fidelity, the musical?? Come on.

The Big Event - Part 3

I'd like to say that the night before my wedding I slept restlessly, in fits and starts. You hear all kinds of stories about people not sleeping a wink, waking at dawn because they're too excited. Well, I hate to disappoint, but I slept like a baby. The bed to myself (David had wisely chosen to stay with Meg that night), I slept early and often. I'm not sure what time we woke up, but I do know I received at least two calls from Gabe before my feet ever touched the floor. I was relaxed, I was calm....I was hungry. Again, I corralled the troops and got us all downstairs just in time to check out. We went back to Water Street Cafe, site of the successful breakfast the day before, and why not try it again. We got the same table by the window and had another great meal. On the walk back, we couldn't resist taking some pictures of a pretty terrific street sign....ok, unfortunately I can't find it right now. But it's this street right in downtown Geneva called South Exchange Street. S. Exhange St. You put it together.

Next, I'm pretty sure we headed over to the castle to start getting ready. I apologize for the fogginess, it's coming up on two months past, so I'm trying to piece it together before it all fades. Anyway, the menfolk and their various friends/SO's found their way to the Ice House, this little cottage on the grounds of the castle. We hung out, watched soccer (it being the World Cup during this time), and basically tried to relax. I have very little doubt that most (if not all) of us would have gone out partially clothed, disheveled, and helpless had it not been for the assistance of Meg, Jesseca, and Bekah, and my thanks to them is unending. We had some wine, made some toasts, and took a few shots with the photographer. Pete composed his best man speech a good 30-40 minutes prior to the ceremony (sorry Pete, another dig), and I did my best to keep from spilling anything on myself. Before long, it was time to go.

We all walked as a group over to the ballroom in our tuxes. The pictures make it look very Reservoir Dogs-esque. It felt pretty cool watching people gawk. Well, maybe no one was gawking. But at least a few people were looking at us. Then there was some hanging out in the ballroom, some last minute words from the wedding coordinator, some shenanigans and tomfoolery with the guys, some moments of quiet contemplation, some hellos from guests who found their way into the ballroom. All of a sudden, it was time to go out. We made our way to the top of the stairs outside, looking down on the ceremony site. We stayed there for a little while, apparently being watched the entire time from above by the ladies, who were hiding out in the Tower Suite. At the appropriate time, we followed the judge, duckling-like, to the front of the site. I waited. Bridesmaids started walking down. Kia appeared. Got a little misty. The ceremony proceeded. It was great. Just what I think we both wanted. We got to say things to each other, some better-heard by the audience then others, I think. We heard music. We heard the judge speak to us. We kissed. And that was that. Pretty quick, all things considered.

There were pictures after the ceremony, of course. As much as I wanted to go party, I'm glad we did it. There are some pretty priceless ones. The one of Kia picking food from my teeth is especially precious. Eventually, pictures finished up, we went back inside, did some last minute practicing of our dance, and one by one the couples started being introduced. Kia and I entered to thunderous applause, did our dance ("By My Side" by Ben Harper), then sat and got to eat. For the first time in a while, we got to actually sit and take things in. Absorb. Consider what had happened already that day. I do have this to say: getting married is like graduating from college and going to the prom, all in the same day. Overwhelming, emotional, and pretty wonderful.

The reception was great. What food I did eat was good, the cake was tasty. Pete and Kristin made great speeches, as did Kia's dad. People danced, particularly Dave. (I think he danced with nearly everyone at the reception, male or female. Again, I wish I could locate the pictures to back this claim up, but you'll just have to believe me.) We made it to all the tables to say hi. We didn't have a Table 9, out of respect for those who might be at it (see "The Wedding Singer" for the reference). Eventually, Kia and I got to dance as well. Of course it was all over much too fast. It felt like it was just beginning when "New York, New York" was winding down. Fortunately, we were able to have a lot of our friends up to the aforementioned Tower Suite for an afterparty of sorts. I can't be sure where all of the stuff came from that eventually made it to our room. Glasses, silverware, pizzas, boxes of beer and soft drinks...it was a second reception. I'm glad everyone came up, so we could see them in a more relaxed atmosphere. After a while, everyone cleared out and we had the room to ourselves...until Kia realized she was missing her camera.

Performing my first duty as her husband, I dutifully made my way back outside and over to one of the cottages where the party had been transplanted. The response when I entered was something between surprise, curiosity, and disgust. What the hell was I doing there on my wedding night?? I made a good search of the whole house, but no camera was to be found. It'll surely turn up in the morning. I went back to the room, disappointed in my ability to successfully perform my first duty. Just as I was rummaging through some clothes and telling Kia that I couldn't find her camera, there it was. On a chair, under the clothes. I guess I was a good husband after all.

En-titled

I have to share with you the title of a paper I've come across in my regular perusal of various hoity-toity fancy-shmansy academic journals. Usually, the authors of these papers will try to come up with impressive titles that in some way indicate what the paper is about and attempt to grab the reader's attention a little bit. Today, in the Journal of Cognitive Neuroscience, I found this paper. The title is as follows:

"Q:] When Would You Prefer a SOSSAGE to a SAUSAGE? [A:] At about 100 msec. ERP Correlates of Orthographic Typicality and Lexicality in Written Word Recognition"

Actual title.

May I have a long enough career to publish a paper with both a question and answer title in it.

I humped your Hummer

I previously posted about a website that features people flipping the bird to Hummers they see in their daily travels.

It seems that these people are taking that idea one step further.

And on video, no less. I'm not sure whether to be amused or shocked. Both would do the trick, I guess.