Dan Bailey 1. The Pedal Pub. Jesus, can you imagine? 2. Anything made by Dodge. Because every Dodge I’ve ever seen that’s older than two years looks and feels completely fucking ghetto. 3. A Smart Car. For starters, I’m 6’2″ — me getting into a Smart Car is like an elephant trying to fuck a chihuahua. Sad. … Read more
The list of words Eddy has added to his vocabulary (regular usage) in the last six days: Black Purple (sometimes uses the sign for “touchdown” derived from our viewing of Vikings games) Shoes Ball Cake Pig No Rock Lamp Nine words in six days. For him, that’s huge. ADDENDUM, 8/7/14 Now adding a word a … Read more
I am 41 years old and still wear cargo shorts. Is this a life fail (Y/N)?
— Dan Bailey (@fontosaurus) June 16, 2014
Okay, so it’s not always as inane as the tweet above. Actually, I spend a lot of time thinking about the future (see also: my StandOut! results), and not in a daydream-y, fanboy kind of way, but in a more concrete, “what are the possibilities and how can I prepare for them?” kind of way.
Without question and despite their getting knocked out in the ALCS, the 1989 Cleveland Indians remain one of baseball’s greatest teams. In the early season, held together by a core of aging veterans like catcher Jake Taylor and pitcher Eddie Harris, the Indians struggled. When out-of-control pitcher Ricky Vaughn was diagnosed with poor vision and steps were taken to correct it, the Indians began to gel, and then began a run so improbable that if it hadn’t gone down in the record books, you’d swear it was fiction.
Okay, so it was fiction. But even despite the semi-outlandish premise (you can just cook the books to move a pro team, just ask Norm Green), it was a movie that nailed a combination of memorable characters and great humor in such a way as to be unforgettable. That it’s not getting the same level of recognition as Ghostbusters is getting for its 30th anniversary is, quite frankly, a travesty. Nay, a fucking travesty
Note that this post serves as a counterpoint to my previous list, Five Places I Never Want to Live. 1. Austin, Texas. 2. San Francisco, California. 3. Bora Bora. 4. Vancouver, British Columbia. 5. Italy.
It occurred to me recently that, while I’ve mentioned him in passing, I don’t talk about Sam too in-depth here. I guess the reasoning behind that is two-pronged — one, parenting is kind of “old hat” at this point. I got this. Two, I kind of dread becoming the parent that does nothing but talk … Read more
I originally said it on Twitter:
There is no moment in life greater than getting tired of your own bullshit. After that you can accomplish anything.
— Dan Bailey (@fontosaurus) June 13, 2014
And I stand by that statement. The most important moment in your life will be the one in which you realize that, like many people, you are inherently full of shit, and the person you’re lying to most is yourself. This is not to say you’re a bad human being, or that you are somehow malicious and self-sabotaging. The lies we tell ourselves are the lies that allow us to cope with the world around us. And that world around us is isn’t, if we’re among the 99{3b4d110c5d1596d2297e6430d163d306168bc3d03da137601e3ed8beb4b12205}, structured to our benefit.
1. A Twitter list manager that’s actually fucking usable and not a giant security risk. 2. Decent Strava plugin for WordPress. 3. An implementation of micropayments for content and downloads using cryptocurrencies. 4. A life metrics platform. Something that’s useful for doing everything from tracking sleep, exercise, food, to-do lists (productivity), health, etc., all rolled … Read more
Okay, before starting a conversation about your Internet privacy, I’m going to warn you right now: NAUGHTY WORDS WILL FOLLOW THIS, SO IF YOU ARE GOING TO GET YOUR UNDIES IN A TWIST OVER THAT, YOU SHOULD JUST LEAVE NOW AND GO LOOK AT KITTENS.
Okay, so here’s the deal — if you and I are ever in a conversation and you start bitching up a storm about how your precious widdle personal data isn’t safe on the big bad interweebs, you can, at the very least expect me to check the fuck out of the discussion with arms thrown skyward and a melodramatic huff. At the high end of the OMG-You’re-Being-a-Fuckwit Scale (the OYBAF Scale), depending on the company I’m in and the type of day I’m having, you could get the abbreviated form of this blog post spewed at you. (TL;DR: use your fucking head you fucking lackwitted waste of carbon.)
The idea for this post came from WordPress’s “365 Days of Writing Prompts“. The premise is to write a scene in which you are trapped in an elevator with someone from your past. I briefly imagined a situation in which I was trapped with one of the people who tormented me throughout my school years. … Read more