Rambling Rhodes

Moving On Out

IBM today is moving me out of my nice, soft squishy office space back to the cookie cutter blue buildings that so personify Big Blue. I've thrown out more crap in the last couple days preparing for the move, you'd probably be horrified.

My point? My point is that I won't have computer access in about two minutes, and won't be able to regale you all with standard blogging wonder.

This is Ryan Rhodes, signing off for the weekend.

Walking The Straight And Narrow

I'll let you folks figure out how to play this little bit of nonsense. My first attempt, I got him to walk 54 meters before he toppled over.

Google THIS

Heh. I just checked my site meter, and I saw that someone came to my site doing a Google search on. . . wait for it. . . you'll never guess. . .

Ryan+Rhodes+ass

Now THAT'S specificity!

P.S. Oh, by the way, my ass can be viewed here, if you're interested.

The Murky Depths

I don't tend to think of myself as a wuss. Generally, I'm a pretty tough guy who isn't afraid of much, except for maybe Michael Jackson and, to some extent, the Arby's oven mitt.

I have no problem with dark alleys, or abandoned houses, or snakes, or Rosie O'Donnell. All of those things don't scare me in the least. By and large, you'd be hard pressed to terrify me when it comes to anything land-based, or even air-based.

But, here's a little secret about myself: lakes and oceans freak me out.

They don't freak me out to the point that I won't go near them or anything, but they most assuredly freak me out. I'm not sure why, exactly. There's something about knowing that strange creatures are looking up at my dangling feet that just creeps me right out. So long as my feet are on a sandy or even rocky bottom, I'm fine, but the moment the water level is such that I have to tread water, I start getting a little fidgety.

If, for example, I topple off some water skis in the middle of a lake, I feel uncomfortable almost immediately, and my comfort level is directly related to the distance the boat may be from me. I mean, if I'm going to have my toes chomped off by a world record sized Northern Pike, I'd like to have witnesses and medical assistance nearby rather than joyriding a half mile away.

I'm a little more comfortable in the ocean, primarily because of the improved overall visibility. Lakes are usually dirty and dark, whereas the ocean has a more clean and clear look about it, even though it's pretty gross, too.

However, deep ocean water does spook me. One year, I was snorkeling in the ocean off Maui, in relatively shallow water. I swam over a rise of rocks, and suddenly I was looking down at a drop off of 40 or 50 feet. It scared the living shit out of me. I had a minor freak out right then and there, complete with frantic flailing of the arms and everything.

That same trip, I was snorkeling off a different beach, and I dived down about 12 feet to inspect some coral. Suddenly a shadow drifted overhead, and I looked up to see a gigantic fucking stingray lazily floating up above. Now, I knew stingrays were basically harmless, but the sight of that huge beast hanging over the spot I intended to surface at just terrified me to hell. Despite the fact my lungs were screaming, I forced myself to swim about 30 feet towards shore before going to the surface to breathe.

I still think of that stingray and shudder. Scary fucking thing.

Proud To Be An American

The U.S. women's beach volleyball team of Misty May and Kerri Walsh recently took the gold. Here are some photos of the fantastic action:

Here we see May and Walsh celebrating something, possibly a win of some sort. It really doesn't matter.

More edge-of-your-seat action, as May and Walsh continue celebrating something. Again, it doesn't really matter what they're celebrating. Perhaps they bought new toothbrushes?

Here we see Misty May about to do something with a ball.

Having successfully done something with a ball, May celebrates, once again, with Walsh.

Here, Walsh does something with a ball.

And, of course, Walsh and May celebrate after Walsh successfully did something with a ball.

Whoops! How the hell did that get in here? Move along. Nothing to see here.

Here, Walsh does something super-dooper cool with a ball.

And, as is the custom, May and Walsh celebrate.

Congratulations, ladies, on your gold medal performance. And, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so very, very, very, very much.

One Iraqi Perspective

You sit in a restaurant like this one and see families relaxing with their children playing and having fun late at night and you feel that there’s ‘something’ wrong in the way MSM is dealing with the Iraqi issue. I watch TV and I see hell breaking around me then I go outside and see enough normalcy AND progress to make me believe that the people in the media are not here to report how’s life going but rather they are here reporting pre-prepared stories and to be faced with something that contradicts the picture they have in their minds would be really annoying and will mean more hard work to try to find the truth or something close to it. (Iraq The Model)

Ryan says: There are a lot of good Iraqi blogs, which is in itself rather telling.

Ryan says: Prior to the war, under Saddam, there was one, ONE Iraqi blog, and that guy had to be anonymous, or he probably would have been shot in the head and dragged through the street. Now there are over 30 Iraqi blogs.

Jody says: interesting, then why are Americans getting such a poor reception at the Olympics and especially by Iraqi athletes...just an observation, not to be confrontational (OK, Paul Hamm aside is what I mean, and the dream team men's basketball too)

Ryan says: Because we Americans are, obviously, militant, conquering barbarians who are oil-thirsty, fat thugs who have no regard for human life, that's why.

Jody says: I understand that but what gets me, is if it wasn't for US involvement, the Iraqi soccer team wouldn't be there...

Ryan says: Oh, they'd maybe be there, but. . .

Jody says: I remember seeing a documentary about how they weren't allowed to play and the soccer fields were literally killing fields...

Ryan says: It's the tough thing about Democracy in action, you see. The reporters drool over Iraqi soccer players (who didn't even play, mind you) saying what they think about the American occupation, yet the reporters fail to appreciate the fact that those Iraqi soccer players actually have the freedom now to say such things without the fear of Uday beating their feet with a baseball bat when they get home.

Jody says: that would hurt

Polar Bear Summer

For reasons beyond my control, this summer has been one of unusually cool temperatures, by which I mean I keep my ice cube trays in the porch, because that's more efficient than my freezer at this point.

I guess I could try and find a way to chalk up these cool temperatures to global warming, or the failure of the U.S. to agree to the Kyoto Protocol, or the war in Iraq, or the Plain Layne hoax but, no, I think it all comes down to Mother Nature being her finicky and unpredictable self.

Well, the cool temps wouldn't stop me from enjoying a end-of-the-summer vacation with the girlfriend, nosirree. Melissa and I were determined to take a vacation if it killed us, or at least cost me a lot of money, whichever came first.

So, we decided to both take Monday off and we travelled to Wisconsin Dells Sunday afternoon. For those not familiar with Wisconsin Dells, let me explain. The Dells is an over-the-top tourist trap that specializes primarily in water parks, but dabbles in miniature golf, theme-based motels, amusement parks and a plethora of other activities meant to cause children to go insane with "I want" vibrations until parents' duck into the nearest clinic to sterilize themselves.

I hadn't been to the Dells since I was a kid, and that was only once, for one day, at which point my parents decided to take my brother and me to Chicago instead, where at least we might actually learn something while on vacation. So, I always felt gypped that I didn't get to immerse myself in the insanity that is Wisconsin Dells.

Well, I had driven about two miles into the insanity that is Wisconsin Dells when I started to twitch in nervous anxiety. I'm not good at driving in unfamiliar territory in general, and when that unfamiliar territory is awash in flashing flourescent lights and garish theme park visual noise, I get all the more flustered. I wanted to pull over NOW! RIGHT NOW! GET ME OUT OF THIS CAR RIGHT NOW, NOW, NOW!

I'll pulled off of the main Dells drive and found myself in the parking lot of a place called Treasure Island. It looked expensive, and it was probably booked solid, I figured, but at least I was off that cartoonish main road. Mel went in to see about vacancies, and I was surprised when she came back and told me they had rooms available.

As luck would have it, one of the cheaper rooms had a cancellation, which meant, for just over $100, we got a room and two free, two day passes to the Treasure Island waterparks, both indoor and outdoor. What a bargain! Seriously. I'm not being sarcastic here. It was a great deal.

Except.

Whereas Sunday afternoon and evening were plenty warm, with temperatures exceeding 80 degrees, Monday was considerably cooler, with temps dipping below 70.

Undaunted, Mel and I emerged Monday afternoon intent on enjoying the outdoor water park, and we were pretty much the only people in the entire state of Wisconsin willing to do so. Therefore, there was a trade-off. On the one hand, it was pretty damned cold, and making use of all of the park's waterslides was almost more work than it was fun. On the other hand, there were absolutely no lines whatsoever. We could pick and choose our slides with nary a wait.

Surprisingly, the cold didn't bother us too much. Sure, it would have been nice if the sun was out, with temps nearing 90, but we had to make do with what we had on hand, and what we had on hand was a 69 degree overcast day. And we actually managed to have fun despite the less-than ideal circumstances.

Until.

Our big mistake came when we went swimming in the wave pool, which is a standard swimming pool that generates waves. Well, if one were to guess, one might postulate that the Treasure Island wave pool was filled entirely by the melting runoff of the hotel's many ice machines. I have never in my life been in such a cold swimming pool. I'm not sure, but I thought I saw Walt Disney's cryogenically frozen body go bobbing by on one of the waves.

After roughly eight minutes of enduring the wave pool, Mel and I decided we had defied Mother Nature long enough, and that it was time to snap to reality and put on some pants and a sweatshirt, and possibly a winter coat. We spent the rest of the afternoon playing 54 holes of miniature golf, and then we hopped back in the car for the three hour drive home.

All in all, it was a pretty fun vacation, even if I did lose three toes and a pinkie to frostbite.

Chicks I Think Are Hot

Starting this week, I've decided to try my hand at posting the names and, when applicable, pictures, of chicks who I think are hot. This week:

Daisy Fuentes.

This picture was chose because it's the closest I could find to a genuine camel toe shot.

Daisy really didn't appeal to me much when she was on MTV, primarily because she was on MTV at roughly the same time that Cindy Crawford was doing House of Style, and as a puberty-stricken youth, Cindy had my full attention. I first took real notice of Daisy when she was co-host of America's Funniest Home Videos and, since then, she has maintained her wondrous shape rather than descending into the gross skeletal ideal sought after by the likes of Cameron Diaz.

Yes, Daisy Fuentes. I salute you, because my other hand is busy right now. . . doing something.