Tuesday, November 30, 2010

I Confess: Nikon

I went to the camera store to try out my D60's big and bigger brothers. 

These are the straight out of the camera (SOOTC) photos taken with the D90:

                          0.033 sec (1/30), f/4.2, 32mm, ISO 1600, +4/3 EV











                          0.033 sec (1/30), f/5.6, 85mm, ISO 1600, +4/3 EV










That's my humble D60.

                           0.033 sec (1/30), f/5.3, 66mm, ISO 900, 0 EV











This customer was looking at the D7000.

                           0.05 sec (1/20), f/5.3, 66mm, ISO 400, 0 EV










These are the straight out of the camera (SOOTC) photos taken with the D300s:

                          0.077 sec (1/13), f/4.2, 34mm, ISO 200, 0 EV










                       0.02 sec (1/50), f/3.5, 18mm, ISO 200, 0 EV













And this is me when the helpful salesman told me how much the D300s costs.

 0.077 sec (1/130), f/4.2, 34mm, ISO 200, 0 EV



I confess: my smile disappeared in 1/130 of a second.










The Next Decade

Five-Star Scotty has known these two young men since they were wee little boys. Adam and Josh.






Today is Josh's birthday. It's a very special birthday because it marks the start of a new decade. I'll leave it to you to guess which decade.






I'll tell you this much: that Josh is at his prime!






Hint...





The celebration started early, and it was held at this billiards club on the other side of town.



















Don't let this decade daunt you, Josh. Your friends have your back.






We all have your back.





Happy Birthday!




Saturday, November 20, 2010

Thanks For Dinner Abmel

It went from 38°F to 36°F inside a couple of hours tonight, the perfect temperature for phó. 







Bean sprouts, lime, and Thai basil complete the piping hot Vietnamese soup.

 







And what better company to eat phó with than family.







Mikey, Tita V, and Jamesie Cat were at the Department of Motor Vehicle Licensing because Mikey was going to take his driving test today. But we didn't get together for soup because of this. Because there was no congratulations to celebrate. Because Mikey didn't take the test. Because something happened when they arrived at the DMV...

How's that for using "because"!






Tita V was rushed to the hospital emergency room as soon as they arrived at the DMV.

Diagnosis: vasovagal episode. Apparently she was straining so hard that she pinched a nerve which slowed down her heart rate, thereby cutting off blood supply to the brain, causing her to faint. 







Speaking of straining, "Jamesie, do you have to go pooh-pooh?"







 *No, he just farted...*







In the mean time, Abmel is immediately on Facebook to announce the uneventful news. Thank goodness it was uneventful!





By the way Abmel, I told a fib, of which I must come clean before Manny Pacquiao knocks me out. So don't post on FB, or Tweet that Manny came to Bohol to visit my pops. I fibbed, and I actually can't believe you fell for it, what with my uncontrollable grin and twitching eye.

Oh, and thanks for dinner!



Friday, November 12, 2010

Confessions of a Crazy Relative

Today my cousin Kat posted this on Facebook:



 




And what a coincidence that she did, because I was feeling very conflicted about an incident at work. I didn't know where to post this entry. It has to do with work, but we didn't get the work. It has to do with a home, but I'm not posting about the design aspect of it. This post, in fact, has everything to do with the conflicting emotions spurred by a potential job we were bidding. I just want to vent these emotions, so I decided to post here.

Call this post a confession from a crazy relative, yours truly.

I confess...

1. That a man and his wife were looking for a contractor to renovate a large home they bought in our town. The man, having seen our home, wanted his wife to see it too in hopes of getting her vote to hire us to do the work.






2. That we welcomed the hawty-tawty yuppy housewife into our home to see our work. We even let her keep her high wedged shoes on, while the rest of us were bare-footed to keep the floors clean and undamaged. 





3. That we did not feel a connection with said woman, and turned down the opportunity to bid the job. At which time, she insisted that we put our number in for the contention.





4. That we turned down the opportunity a second time- yes, a SECOND TIME- upon receiving a load of legal jargon that felt like entrapment. At which time said lady reassured us that "it's just procedure... I ultimately make the decisions, and I still want you to bid the job."






5. That we went against our gut instinct, and spent hundreds of dollars printing full size blue prints, poured one hundred and sixty hours of our time studying the prints and gathering price points for materials, and wasted thirty hours of our subcontractors' times assessing the renovation site.






All that work we did for her because she asked us not once, but TWICE to do it. We even came in 30% lower than our contender. And in the end, we didn't even get the courtesy of a call, or even an email that we didn't get the job. We had to call to find out that the other contractor and the homeowners are in the process of writing out the job contract. The wife's excuse: that she felt more comfortable about the other contractor because he would be on the job everyday with his own tool belt on, doing a lot of the work himself.






What did she not understand about "if we get the job, because of it's immensity and our propensity for detail, I will not take on any other jobs so that we can focus 110% on this one."






We didn't have a running chance! The wife never even asked us any other questions, other than about the bidding numbers. We could have told her that 5-Star DOES wear the tool belt when necessary; but most importantly, that 5-Star cannot afford to wear the tool belt all day because he needs to MANAGE THE WHOLE JOB!






We speculate that the wife never had us in mind to do the work to begin with; that she just wanted our numbers to wittle the other contractor's price down!







What can we do if she really doesn't want us to do the work?






I confess... I want to punch her smack in the mouth, stomp on her Gucci wedge clad feet, and pull a clump of that foil dyed blond hair out of her head. But nah, today I will do nothing. Because tomorrow something better will come our way.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Friday Nights Out

I don't go out very often. Come to think of it, I rarely went out even at the hey day of college. Now, it's a once a month thing, with the usual suspects.


 
 Palomino.




 Alfonsina.





 The Boxster.





 Ryan. 

Actually, Ryan isn't a usual suspect. We've known him since his college days as a kicker for the UW Huskies; The Boxster has known him since he was single digit age. And perhaps the most logical reason that he is not a usual suspect is our difference in ages. But the boy can hold his own amongst us old timers.


 Five-Star Scotty.





 Yours truly.





Christina. 

Again, like Ryan, Christina isn't really a usual suspect. She just happens to be where we always end up for the evening. And she's in the same age group as Ryan. But we have known her for many years now. She started out as our server, and eventually became a part of our table as she sat with us to take a load off her feet during work. She was a competitive figure skater, who was a strong contender for Olympic status. 

What do we do on our Friday nights out?

We talk.

And talk.

And talk some more.

And when we run short on topics, we change the subject, and talk some more. Then when we need a break from hearing our own voices, we turn to the table next to us and start chatting with the people there, whom we eventually bring into the conversation at our table, and the vicious talking cycle starts all over again. 

Sometimes we get into heated debates about politics.

Sometimes we single out a suspect, and put them under the spot light to torture with criticism, admonishment, or simply poke fun of them for the subject of which they are in the spot light.

Sometimes we all part with disgust and hatred toward each other. 

But in the end, we all start again full circle from the beginning. Except this time with new topics and new perspectives, but with no less energy than before.

This is my Friday nights out with the usual suspects.

Ps. Missing Suspect: Henriette.

Pps. Yes, we're all wearing the same hat. THE SAME hat. It's mine.