probably the best idea i’ve ever had

Posted on By Wil

Last week, I saw this at Reddit.

I KNOW RIGHT?! I told the Twitter and the Google Plus and the Tumblr that we all need to print these things out and hang them up everywhere (it's legally allowed for us to do so. cough.) For the past four days, I've gotten lots of image links from people on the Twitters who have done precisely that, and it amuses me greatly each time I see it. This morning, Think Geek picked it up and tagged it #OldMan, which is also amusing … but gives the thing a signal boost that can make this ZOMG EPIC.

Ready for this? Okay, here's my idea:

We take tons of these flyers to Comic-Con, hang them up (where it's legally allowed for us to do so. cough.) and make this A Thing. I think that would be hilarious and awesome and also awesome and hilarious.

And you know why? Because it's silly, and not everyone will get it … but the people who do get it will love it. That's why.

(Major thanks go to Redditor possibly_all_3 for making this in the first place.)

“There’s only one rule that I know of, babies: Goddamn it, you’ve got to be kind.”

Posted on By Wil

The list of Stuff I Need to Write About just keeps getting bigger and bigger … so instead of trying to tackle it right now, I give you this, from my Twittersbox a little bit ago:

When you're fortunate enough to have success and love what you do, you have a choice: Be kind and grateful, or be a dick. I choose the first.

When I see someone who is successful, whose work I enjoy, treat other people badly, it just makes me sick inside, and sad for them.

So I do my best to live by example, treat everyone with kindness, and never lose perspective on how lucky I am. Okay, thanks for listening.

It's easy to be a dick, to never be happy with what you have, and to treat someone else's success as your failure … but how does that make you happier? How does that make you feel good about yourself? Every single day, we have hundreds of opportunities to make a choice: Kindess or Cruelty, Gratitude or Bitterness, Generosity or Selfishness … the list goes on and on forever.

Our lives are the result of our choices, and every choice we make affects another person, often in ways we can't even imagine.

…so what kind of life do you choose to live?

(title quote from Kurt Vonnegut)

In which my son and I make our own beer

Posted on By Wil

Ryan is going to be 22 at the end of the month. For those of you who have been here since I wrote the 13 on 31 post, you now know how I feel every single day. The rest of you can get off my lawn before I call your parents.

So the other day, he and I were having a beer together, and Ryan said, "We should make our own beer while I'm home this summer."

I tried homebrewing once when I was about Ryan's age, and it ended … poorly … I've wanted to try again, but I've always been intimidated by what I remembered was a complex and peril-fraught process. When Ryan suggested that we do this, though, the excitement and joy of doing something together gave me a natural 20 on my Save Versus Fear. Besides, even if it's a spectacular failure, it's still something we did together, something we can bond over, and something that will stay with us — success or failure — for the rest of our lives.

"That would be the most awesome father/son activity, ever," I said. "Plus, we get beer when we're finished!"

The next morning, we did a little research online, and the entire process actually looked a lot simpler and more straightforward that I remembered it being coughmumble years ago when I was 22. As long as we could follow a recipe and do our fermentation in a place that was temperature-controlled, we'd probably be able to make some beer that didn't suck.

We found a local homebrewing supply store, and went there yesterday to get our kit and ingredients.

The late afternoon had given way to early evening, but it was still 90 degrees as we parked the car and walked up the sidewalk toward the shop.

"I'm really excited about this," I said, partially because it was true, and partially because I needed to calm the nerves that were working themselves up. What if they laughed at us when we walked in? What if whoever worked there wasn't interested in helping a couple of noobs get started? What if I said something stupid and embarrassed my son?

"Yep," Ryan said.

'Yep'? That's it? 'Yep'? Not "Me too dad this will be awesome!" Not "Yeah, I'm looking forward to this, too." Not even, "Don't embarrass me, dude." Just 'yep'. Okay, Wil, don't blow this.

We walked into the store. It was cool inside, and smelled delightful from all the different types of grain that were in tubs along the walls. A man sat behind a counter at the far side of the room, reading a computer screen. I took a breath, and decided that it was go time.

"Hi," I said, "I tried homebreaing once about 15 years ago, and it was a disaster. My son's home for the summer, though, and we wanted to make our own beer together. Can you help us get started?"

He looked up at me, and smiled. "Sure, just give me one minute."

Awesome.

For the next twenty minutes or so, he literally and figuratively walked us through the entire process, showing us equipment and ingredients, and explaining in simple and precise terms exactly how the whole thing worked. I'm not entirely sure, but I think this guy could cast Dispel Fear as a free action, because by the time he was done, I felt like I was ready to go home and start brewing right away.

"Is there one type of beer that's more difficult than another?"

"Not really," he said. "Most of the beers you're going to make are pretty simple and forgiving. The hardest thing to make, honestly, is something like Budweiser."

Before I could say, "I said beer," he continued: "That's a very pale lager that doesn't leave much margin for error."

So they make that shit taste that way on purpose? And it's difficult? Wow, I learned something today.

"What about a California-style Pale Ale?" I asked, hopefully.

"That's very easy," he told us, "it's one of the most popular styles." He gave us a recipe to follow, and helped us pick out the various ingredients to make it. I thought it was really cool that he didn't just show us where things were, but also explained to us what made each specialty grain unique, how different types yeast worked, and the benefits and risks associated with each one. I never felt like he was trying to sell us anything, but that he was educating and truly helping us. It was really great.

Ryan and I gathered up all our individual ingredients, including Caramel 10L, Caramel 40L, and Columbus and Cascade hops. We paid for everything, and I thanked the guy on our way out.

The whole way home, we talked about what we'd just learned, and I may have repeated several times that I was excited to get started and do this together.

We're going to do our brewing on Sunday, so we can continue to research and learn about the proper way to make it go. I asked Twitter for advice on forums, and here are the most frequently-recommended sites:

Are you a homebrewer? I'd love to hear any advice/warnings/stories you have.

this is really gross. you have been warned.

Posted on By Wil

There is a tree near my house, that has probably been there for years, just doing its tree thing, watching patiently as families come and go, empires rise and fall, and Isengard is flooded. I'm sure it's a beautiful tree, cheerfully trading carbon dioxide for oxygen, providing shade, and most likely supporting several birds and squirrels. It's a lovely tree, I'm sure … but I hate that motherfucker because I am super allergic to whatever pollen or voodoo or evil waves of itching sneezing bullshit it emits. I've seen doctors and witch doctors and oracles and psychics* about it, and all anyone's been able to do for me is suggest I take an antihistimine (Oh? Really? Thanks, medical professionals! I never would have thought of that on my own!) and … well, that's just about all I can do, so just pay the receptionist on your way out, Wil.

In the course of your life, you have probably come across someone with allergies. It's possible that this person has told you that having allergies is awesome**. That person is a liar.

You see, in addition to the itching all over my skin, the sneezing and coughing all the time, and the general annoyance that accompanies being constantly under assault from a fucking tree***, I have a severe case of what a specialist calls "allergic rhinitis." Translated into English: I snore like a beast, and there's nothing I can do about it.

It's warm and humid right now, which apparently makes the trees really horny, because I've just been dying the last couple of days. I'm snoring so badly, I've temporarily relocated myself to the pull out sofa in my office, so that Anne can get a good night's sleep, and I don't have to wake up every time she does because I can't stop snoring godammit.

The thing is, the cats have their litter box and their food and stuff in my office, and over the last couple of days, I've found out that my cat Watson likes to eat dry food right about 5am, and then take a giant toxic nuclear shit as soon as he's done.

Yeah, you're probably going "eeeewwww gross" right now, but at least you haven't been woken up twice in two days by the suffocating Cloud of Cat Shit Stench**** like I have, so maybe keep a little perspective, gang.

Anyway, the whole point of this sordid tale is this: when Watson woke me up this morning by punching me in the face from inside my nose, I thought this would be pretty funny: "Me: Dude, come on, cat. Your toxic shit is suffocating me over here! Cat: I CAN HAZ-MAT? Me: Yes. Yes you can."

I know, it's a long way to go for a silly joke that isn't even that funny four hours later in the cold light of day, but the important thing is that I just wrote about 500 words for the sole purpose of joking about cat poop.

 

*Not really. Psychics are bullshit con artists who prey on vulnerable people.

** I don't know why someone would say that, but I also don't know why someone would go see a Michael Bay movie on purpose, so maybe I'm not exactly making a whole lot of sense right now.

*** Get it? Fucking tree? Because the pollenating tree is, literally, a "fucking" tree, but it's also just a fucking tree because I hate it. Like I said, I'm not making a whole lot of sense right now.

**** That's a level 4 monster from Monster Manual II, though having encountered it I think it should have been in the Fiend Folio