My 63 year old dad was here for the weekend, getting ready for a 10 day trip delivering a sailboat from here in CT to TX. We had a great time...though I feel a little talked-out. After one day spent hanging around the house, we got hit with some of the best weather we've had here in weeks...so we had to break out. My dad and I are cut from a pretty similar cloth, I think...here are some photos illustrating that very point.

Here we are at the summit of East Rock park, overlooking all of New Haven. I am clearly amazed by something.

This was taken out at Bill's, a seafood shack out on the shoreline and coincidentally across the street from the marina where my dad had to pick up the boat. This interaction is pretty much what the whole three days looked like.

We would take turns...this time, it's me bullshitting and HIM looking at ME in disbelief.

My dad always looks his very best when he's gazing off into the distance, with the sun in his face.

Oddly enough, so do I.

Dad looking pretty salty, just after dropping him off at the boat.

He becomes at home pretty quickly.

After dropping him off at the boat, I also saw Steve, a friend of my dad's who I hadn't seen in about 13 years. He told me to go get a haircut and go visit my mom. Jeez-o.

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Posted by Malcolm at 09:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Jillian shot me this link to an amazing New York Times article, from the real estate section. Apparantly, it's official: Anyone can buy internationally. More importantly, everyone IS. Time to move fast:

"The trend is just starting to emerge, as low interest rates and rising property values at home, cheaper air travel and the globalization of the housing market have prompted Americans to canvass the planet for vacation homes beyond the tourist beltway. In addition, baby boomers are better-traveled than their parents and think nothing of sinking money into foreign soil, especially as the domestic market seems to be overheating.

'Real estate has enjoyed a boom for the past five years, and it's spilled over internationally,' said Jeff Hornberger, the manager of international business development for the National Association of Realtors in Washington. 'Someone who bought a house for $300,000, that's now worth $600,000, may want to downsize and get a second home. But when they see the prices in Florida, they start looking overseas.'

That is basically how Marie Munday, 50, a deputy sheriff from Aspen, Colo., ended up as an international snowbird. As her house tripled in value over the last decade, she began condo shopping in Florida, but the prices were still beyond her reach. So she got off the beaten path and landed in Panama.

For $54,000, she and her husband, Chip Munday, 49, a property manager, bought a half acre last month in Altos del María, a new second-home community in the mountains of Panama, about 90 minutes from Panama City. 'We hope to do a high-end home with a vanishing-edge pool,' Ms. Munday said. 'Labor here is pretty cheap. High-end construction is about $65 a foot. In Aspen, the norm is $400.'

With the notable exception of Africa, hot zones like Iraq and Afghanistan and restricted spots like Cuba, few corners of the world seem to be off limits to intrepid home buyers anymore.

'What's a verboten place?' asked Mr. Michonski of Coldwell Banker. 'I can't think of one. We're seeing this happening around the world. London plumbers are buying places in Portugal. Europeans are buying in Florida. Greece is on the verge of a huge boom. It's identical to global trade. In fact, they're tied together.'

For one thing, real estate listings are no longer a local commodity. Not long ago, a tourist might have stumbled upon a 'for sale' flier at a local cafe. Today, all one needs to do is plug a country name and the words 'real estate' into a computer search engine to see what's available. That even works for places as hard to travel to as Fiji, which is about a 10-hour flight from Los Angeles. "

So that's that, people. All you need is a bit of money, some good timing, and some courage. Read the full article here, at the NYTimes website. Registration required.

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Posted by Malcolm at 11:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I just read an amazing article on EscapeArtist.com that I wanted to call everyone's attention to. While short on practical details, it illustrates perfectly the "dreamy" aspects of relocating abroad, and provides motivation to dive into the hairier, harder parts. An excerpt:

"When I first began dreaming about life as an expatriate, Mexico was the country that came to mind--the Mexico, that is, that used to be, complete with a C & H sugar beach on the Caribbean and a cabana near a colorful Mayan village, where there's nothing to do but hang from a hammock, drift in turquoise water, and marinate in Tequila."

Click here to read the entire article.

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Posted by Malcolm at 10:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Last Friday, we met up with the gang at The Peach Pit
for a round of laxatives/booze/cocaine/abstinence/bitchiness/dj-ing/sideburns/kvetching and Nat's homespun wisdom. Sadly, that is not true...rather we met some friends for dinner and drinks at Nikkita, an amber-lit downtown space we discovered last year, and which, for a minute, seemed like a reasonable place for whimsical martinis and small plates of tasty morsels. With its exposed brick and canopy booths, there are cozy spaces for conversation, the kind where one drinks a bit of wine and feels flushed and intimate and profound. And I was happy there, in my little twos and threes, eating gordo hanging shrimps and tiers of B-grade oysters, though it always struck me as kind of like listening to American Rock 'n Roll in Soviet Russia and feeling super chic. Oh, and the waitresses are slow and the real martinis are too vermouthy and you really must question the integrity of meat so thoroughly smothered. But it was a comfort. Not so this past Friday, when we all gathered for the first time since Maggie and Dan became husband and wife and returned from their honeymoon in the Carribean. Malcolm's cocktail was a travesty, and his meat was not cooked to his specifications. The crowd was greasy and grim and altogether too drunk for whatever time it was and eating there I felt like an eighth grader at a dance in the gymnasium, when the lights come on and you are exposed as the perspiring, adolescent mess that you are, and not at all Paula Abdul. A shame, really. A shame for our mouths and the the glinty-eyed conversations we'll never have because, though it never really was cool, or especially delicious, it was ours; Nikkita is so over.

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Posted by Jillian at 09:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Both of my graphic design classes worked diligently on The Lightbox, an exercise lifted from veer.com, in which two (or more, I suppose) artists battle in the space of a photoshop document, using the same 5 or so elements to create a unique picture. I chose-because I am the teacher and I can tell them what to do!-a manatee, a moustache, mac 'n cheese, a knight, a robot and (the planet) Saturn. Hilarious and astonishing products were crafted. I was delighted and they were quiet; I almost didn't hear that effing whistling song at all. Does anyone else know this whistling song, or do you have to keep the company of teenagers for the pleasure? They do make me laugh. One kid, who had previously limited himself to iterations on the theme of Marley, (Bob, not Jacob) superimposed a moustache on a giant bowl of macaroni and cheese. and that, folks, is comedy.

I felt it was a breakthrough.

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Posted by Jillian at 01:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

It's Halloween! In honor of this upcoming special night, it was pumpkin carving time. I present to you: The Gene Simmons Jack O'Lantern. I whipped this out using no special tools or stencils. In fact, we barely even had a knife. In the drawing stage, I couldn't figure out how to do the tongue. I briefly considered a tongue-less Gene Simmons, before realizing I was being re-goddamned-diculous, and ended up just thinning the outer shell of the pumpkin where the tongue should be. This allows a little light to come through, and I am pleased with the results.

Man, I frikkin' love carving pumpkins. I once won a carving contest in college, which brought in 100 bucks and enough Natty Light to kill anyone over the age of 20. Now, I've added this membrane-thinning technique. What's next? Just imagine if I had this. Maybe next year.

So what do you say? Should I buy some smaller pumpkins and do the rest of the band? Jillian seems to think that's obsessive and weird, but I dunno...it sure is tempting.

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Posted by Malcolm at 09:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

There is something so special about being insulated in a mid-day Cosby Show bubble. You can forget about the rest of the world, your work, and how many spam messages you have in your inbox. You can cushion yourself in the hi-jinks of the Huxtable family, where everything made sense, was good, warm, and funny. This is even true of the horrid late-series episodes, where Theo works at the youth center, cousin Pam is around, Rudy gets her period (I shivered a little, even typing that) and Winnie and Nelson are all grown up and retarded.

You can understand, then, how jarring it is when TBS rips you out of this bubble and deposits you squarely in the world of "The Parkers," without warning. No matter how vigilant you are, it is next to imossible to change the channel fast enough to avoid being assualted by this decidedly non-Cosby sadsack excuse for mid-day programming. TBS, stop it.

Here is a picture of Bill Cosby for you to print out and color.

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Posted by Malcolm at 03:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Just when we needed them most, three most excellent films arrived in our television set last night, all of which, I realize, are focused on dream.

I Have a Dream, ... A Great Notion, The American Dream--Tucker, A Man and His Dream is about cars, charm and post-war mens habidashery. Notice Christian Slater doing some fine early work, think about corporate hegemony in 20th century America, and dream of being Jeff Bridge's doll. Hold that Tiger!

Still reeling from Tim Burton's most recent celluloid hemmorhage, let's take a moment and appreciate the trippy, creepy 1970's classic, Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. In this version, as in many of my dreams, Gene Wilder is the eponymous character. Yes, it is true to the beloved Dahl novel of a slightly different title, but this is a film about the oddness, grace, and benevolence of a reclusive chocolatier. if you want to view paradise...

While my favorite fantasy film from childhood is The Dark Crystal, I gladly climbed into the well-worn lap of The Neverending Story. THE MOVIE! not the HBO series or the sequel or some other bullshit. A revelation or two was made, I thought about stories and their artificers, malcolm cried, and we both wished we could hump the princess.

Listen friends, next time you've got a case of the Nothings, pop some corn and spend a little time in the nostaligia room with this terrific trifecta of cinematic magic.

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Posted by Jillian at 09:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Seriously, just don't do it. I bought the new stereo, ripped the dashboard out, and was confronted by a tangle of non-standard wire colors. In other words, I couldn't just match the colors of the old wires to the new stereo. So I hit the Internet to try and find a wiring diagram. Amazingly, I couldn't seem to find one for free. Twelve dollars later, I had finally found one...but it didn't match what I was seeing in the dashboard, either. It looked like the last installer used some kind of combination of the old original Volvo wiring harness, and then just some new wires thrown in, for fun.

I finally got it installed, mostly through trial and error. Well, almost. The new stereo sounds AMAZING, but I never did hook up the correct wire to the power antenna on the car, so we have no AM/FM, since the antenna won't go up and down. Looks like I'll be tackling that next week.

Oh, and as for that wiring chart I paid for? Perhaps YOU need a wiring diagram for a 1992 Volvo 960 Sedan? You can download it here for free.

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Posted by Malcolm at 09:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Okay, so we've switched over to Movable Type as our blog software of choice. Please be patient as we get the template finalized and ready to go...should be completely ready by next week.

Why the switch? We were using Blogger before, and in spite of how easy it was to use, it had some problems. First, the comment spam on that system has run completely rampant. Second, I could never get things to look exactly the way I wanted them. Finally, I wanted an OWNED solution, not a hosted one.

So what did we lose in the transition? Well, I managed to import all the old entries. Unfortunately, I lost the comments, and I am credited with writing all of them. I didn't. Some of them are Jillian's. Going forward, everything should be all cool with author credits, it's just the stuff we've written in the last 5 or 6 days. We also need to find workarounds for AudioBlogger, which was a cool feature. I am sure there are alternatives out there.

At any rate, things should go smoothly now. Software changes like this always take longer than I expect, but in the end we will have a more stable, beautiful, wonderful little weblog. Enjoy, and if you are a Movable Type expert, be sure to tell me what you think I should add to this site. :)

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Posted by Malcolm at 02:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

now I must go and make the Mona Lisa in the likeness of Frida Kahlo.

urp.

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Posted by Malcolm at 11:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Though not a lottery player myself, I have to admit being sucked in. I don't know why 340 million was somehow more tempting than 100 million, but it was. I had to have the guy at the liquor store teach me how to play, in fact. I pulled five quick-pick numbers, and waited.

Listen, I checked the odds on the CT Lottery website. My chances of winning where somewhere around 1 in 245 million. It didn't stop me from thinking though. Spending the hours leading up to the drawing wondering just how I would spend my money. First, I would give the guy who taught me how to play 2 million bucks. Right off the top. Then, of course, my entire family gets set up so they never have to work again. Buy an island? Pay to acquire a citizenship in some far-flung country? Stay right here in New Haven and buy every house in East Rock, so I don't have any strangers too close to me? That jackpot was enough money to not only ensure that you never had to work again...it was enough to change the entire history of your entire family from that point on. After my Powerball win, "Bedell" would mean aristocracy. Even if it IS unearned, NEW aristocracy. For generations to come we could all just...sit back. Which is truly what we like best. It's impossible to make plans, to really wrap your head around money like that. It must be terribly confusing.

So, in the interest of helping my fellow man, I would like to offer my advice to that fellow in Oregon for how to spend his first morning as a multi-millionaire. First, sit down to a nice breakfast. You've got a big day ahead of you, buddy. I recommend two soft boiled eggs and a plate piled high with toast soldiers. Stretch, relax, breathe. Go to the lottery office, and try not to attract attention to yourself. Finally, consider murdering a hobo. It will be the first demonstration to the world that you can do whatever the hell you please from now on, because you're sittin' on 100 million plus. Happy Thursday!

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Posted by Malcolm at 10:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

In some ways, I have to hand it to you. You broke the tiniest, yet most expensive piece of glass on the whole car. You even smashed directly through the bullshit "Protected by Volvo Security" sticker on that window, which I at least hope made you crack a smile. It definitely did, me.

But seriously. You risked jail time to bust into a beat up 1992 car, to steal a stereo that you probably couldn't hawk for more than about $30 bucks. Meanwhile, I am on the phone all morning trying to figure out exactly what your little midnight withdrawal-fueled escapades must have cost. So far, it's $285 for the glass and install. Another $100 for a new stereo. Another $100 for a car alarm. And that's before even figuring out how to replace a dashboard component that is, in all liklihood, not being manufactured any more. I'm out at least $500 bucks.

So now we've called the cops, if for no other reason than to cause a small uptick in our street's crime statistics, in the hopes the police will keep a closer eye on it. We've lost time from work to get all this straightened out. Jillian is upset, feels violated. I pulled all the broken glass out of the pane, causing tiny slices in my fingers. And for what?

Crackhead, next time, a favor: Knock on my door. I'll give you the $30 bucks, you can go score, or whatever the kids are calling it, and we can both get on with our lives. Don't break my shit. It's not worth it, to either of us. In the meantime, I guess it's lesson learned. Detach stereo faceplate. Viper armed.

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Posted by Malcolm at 10:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

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Posted by Malcolm at 10:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

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Posted by Malcolm at 09:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

He came and stayed with me here in New Haven, and we took a few overnight trips into NYC (my old hometown). It is SO rare that you can see someone after, jeez, 13 years, and not only have a good time and reminisce, but also discover that you are still friends all over again. I thought maybe I'd share some pictures from his visit.

There were a few days in the middle of the visit, where I had to stay home and make some money. Jillian was kind enough to show Nick the New Haven sights, including a little bar called Richter's, home of the half-yard.

Nick and I enjoying a little down time at Dempsey's another local bar here in New Haven.

Here we are with two transvestites we met down on the Lower East Side, in NYC. The one with the pink hair smelled exquisite, which could be why I'm cuddled up so close to her.

A great time was had by all, and Jilly and I will be going to Minnesota to visit with him this coming March. Look for photos from the twin cities, coming soon!

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Posted by Malcolm at 06:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Love always,
Malcolm and Jillian

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Posted by Malcolm at 04:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)