So about that vague non-announcement last week. And the occasion is ... after three and a half years of slaving over preparing grant applications and being disappointed when they weren't selected, i got a completely out-of-the-blue message from the National Institutes of Health telling me that my R21 application for developing hypoxia-inducible reporter genes was going to be funded. It's my first successful government grant (allowing me to now refer to my operation as a "federally funded laboratory"). I've been on cloud nine since getting the news.

I was a bit shocked last week when i contacted Dell to inquire about getting my loose laptop hinges replaced, and the next day a technician showed up at Stanford to give me a brand new LCD screen. With hinges, even. However, this good-natured shock was then followed up with a less welcome surprise on Sunday when the new screen went kaput while Veronica was working on my laptop. Terrif ... got good hinges, but they came with a bum monitor. I imagine all these replacement parts are refurbished, so it's not really surprising that the new unit crapped out. Dell is returning tomorrow to replace my screen ... i wonder if i'll get my old loose-hinge screen back this time.

Finally convinced myself to temporarily set down the PS3 and return to Ghost Recon: Advanced Warfighter 2 on the 360 for a bit. I love that game. Great play mechanics ... i love scoping out my enemies' location using the drone and then holing up in a good sniper spot ... and the HD graphics look amazing on the Sammy.

So Chelsea's challenge for a third consecutive Premiership title appears to be finally dead. In typical Blues style, we went from suddenly having the upper hand (being four points down and having a game in hand after United's unexpected draw against Middlesbrough last weekend) to blowing our chance in the span of a week (recording two successive draws while United won on the rebound to extend their lead to five points with three matches to play). The fact that i called this last fall doesn't make me happy, either. In retrospect, it would've been a crime if we had stolen the title from the Mancs, who have been head and shoulders above every other English team all season long. I foolishly held out hope that despite our domestic failure we could potentially drown our sorrows by reaching the Champions League final by finishing off Liverpool tomorrow. But with injuries over the weekend to Ricardo Carvalho, Michael Ballack, and Andriy Shevchenko, we could be primed for disappointment. And against those annoying scousers, no less. Freakin' wonderful. We've got the FA Cup final in a few weeks against champions-elect United, so perhaps we'll add another trophy for the season to complement the League Cup. But overall, i'll remember this year as the one where Roman Abramovich's experiment boiled over. Not in a grand exploding sense, but in a clash of egos that was enough to derail a team's quest for immortality. Now the question is who will be at Stamford Bridge next year? I wouldn't begrudge Mourinho if he got the hell out of Dodge. He may not have a choice, anyway. But Frank Lampard and John Terry? It would be catastrophic to let them go, and there are plenty of signs that Peter Kenyon and Abramovich have no great loyalty to them. Apparently the Englishmen want salaries commensurate with those of Ballack and Shevchenko, which is plenty reasonable given that Lamps and JT won the team two consecutive titles and the imports have done f@$#-all this season. But the all-world squadmembers brings in the royalties that the Chelsea bigwigs apparently value much more than results. Oh, what a clusterfuck. Maybe i'll focus on Barcelona. They're locked in a battle with Sevilla and Real Madrid, you say? Oh, fucking hell.

I've added a collection of recent show reviews to the music page. My nights on the town continue with this evening's LCD Soundsystem performance at Mezzanine. I've successfully adopted Veronica's strategy of going to shows with minimal expectations, however that may prove impossible tonight given my fawning of LCD's "Someone Great". Recipe for disappointment?

I read an anecdotal description of caffeine addiction online a few weeks ago, and now whenever i get a headache i'm paranoid that my fondness for coffee has done me in. I typically have a medium (ok, fine Starbucks ... "grande") in the morning, and either a cup of tea or another coffee in the afternoon. Too much? I'm having visions of Fry's 100 coffee binge from Futurama. I did get mildly ill this weekend, although not enough to deter my show-going, and was wondering if my response of cutting out the coffee was a wise decision. Hrm.

My session logging code has gone wonky recently, as there haven't really been a hundred unique visitors per hour over the last few days. Either one of my browsers is continually refreshing fac13 and acquiring new session ID's, or my code is doling out new session ID's to every new page request, or things are just generally screwed. Detailed investigation forthcoming.

V and i dropped the poor doggie off at the kennel last Thursday and made our way down the 5. Her cousin Millie was graduating from the Art Center College of Design on Saturday, with a showing of her work on campus on Friday evening, so we decided to head down a day early to get settled. That settling plan never really materialized though. We got to Kevin's place in Santa Monica at 1am on Friday morning, and after catching up with him for a bit fell asleep on the couch. I then awoke at 7:45am the next morning to move our car into a non-street sweeping spot, and made the somewhat ill-advised decision to have a venti coffee with Kevin and chat rather than catching up on my zzz's. Kevin headed off to work while V and i showered and dressed, returning a few hours later to take us to the Sony employee store. We had designs on replacing our bedroom TV with a 26" LCD flat panel, but unfortunately that model was sold out. By this time i was 1) sleep deprived, 2) chock full of caffeine, and 3) starving, so i was becoming decidedly nauseous as Kevin drove us back to Santa Monica and dropped us at the Curry House near his apartment for an overdue lunch. After a brief shopping stint at Giant Robot 2 we returned to chez Kevin, where i collapsed on the couch. Matthew then popped in after the end of his work day. Although i was happy to catch up, my exhausted body was not so enthused. However as we were talking i received a completely unexpected email on my Blackberry, which i will delve into further later. We made it to Millie's art show in Pasadena, enduring a 45 minute wait in the Rose Bowl parking lot for the shuttle to the Art Center. The night was capped by a lovely late dinner at Millie and Naomi's mom's place.

Saturday was no less of an endurance test as despite assurances to myself that i wouldn't, i again succumbed to the lure of jumpstarting my morning with a big cup of coffee. We awoke at 8am to head back to Pasadena for the graduation, arriving a bit late but in plenty of time for Millie's moment in the limelight. SNL alum Rob Schneider had either a sister, cousin, or wife graduating in Millie's class, as he was seated a few rows in front of us. Although graduations generally tend to devolve into an endless recitation of names, this one was made entertaining by the fact that two video screens showed samples of each student's work as they came forward to receive their diploma. At the conclusion of the ceremony we drove over to Benihana-esque Shogun for lunch with Veronica's aunt, uncle, and grandmother, before reconnoitering to Santa Monica. Although i was thoroughly pooped and wanted nothing more than to sleep for an hour or ten on the couch, V coaxed me to get ready and drive over to Melrose for Michelle and Martin's birthday dinner at the Spanish Kitchen. I was all juiced for tapas, but apparently the Spanish Kitchen serves Mexican food. Hrm. Dinner was followed by drinks at Kevin and Martin's house, after which the plan was to hit Hang the DJ. This strategy was thwarted by the enormous line at the club, so after several revisions we finally settled on having drinks at the Good Luck Bar. I was more than happy to just have a few beers and talk with old friends. Danny, Sean, and i spent an hour or so reciting favorite recent Howard Stern bits.

"Hello caller?"
"Yeah i want to talk about Johnny Damon."
"Sure, go ahead."
"Yeah i heard Derek Jeter found worms in his stool."

Okay, i think you really have to hear that one to appreciate it.

We spent Saturday night at Matthew and Dionne's, where i finally was able to grab an extended night's sleep. The next morning we had breakfast (well, i had ribs so i guess that doesn't really qualify) at Dinah's, where i spent most of the meal watching the Suns overcome the Lakers and debating which scene in the Big Lebowski was shot here, as reported on a certificate at the door. I decided it was the one where the nihilists are ordering pancakes. Kevin joined us mid-meal. We bid farewell to M+D and took Kevin on a somewhat circuitous trip to Whittier to Veronica's aunt's house, where he gave some advice to her high school junior cousin regarding potential careers in the video game industry. I finally convinced Veronica to say goodbye to her family and hit the road at 7pm, which caused our return to RC to be delayed until 1:30am.

V drove over to Fremont to rescue the Tara dog on Monday morning while i headed into work for my regular 8:30am meeting. Returning to my office, i heard a voicemail that confirmed the bizarre email i'd received the Friday prior. I'll let you all know soon enough what it entailed ... those expecting a baby announcement will be sorely disappointed ... but suffice it to say that i've had a conspicuous strut in my step since then.

I watched the Quest on cable last night while relaxing at home as V caught Air in the city, and it got me thinking. Were Bloodsport and Kickboxer really awful films too? The Quest made no god damn sense at all. Jean-Claude Van Damme is a thief. No, he's a poor immigrant with a heart of gold stealing to support a collection of street kids. No, he's a kickboxing machine. No, he's back to being a thief. If i'd never seen Bloodsport until yesterday, would i also think it was freakin' retarded?

Not that it needs pointing out, but apparently i'm fairly dense. I wrote a treatise a while back on how i'd discovered i could use the "Album Artist" tag in an MP3 to store the artist's name in the style i'd like it sorted by (ie, Costello, Elvis instead of Elvis Costello). I then went on to comment that i wished iTunes would sort using this field without having to display it ... i'd much rather see Elvis Costello than its punctuated form. Well, apparently this functionality has been in there for a while in the form of the Sort family of tags ... "Sort Artist", "Sort Album", and so on. Silly me.

It's softball season again and the Rays began their preparations yesterday with a round of fielding drills and batting practice. Coach Fred is off to Germany next week so i will be acting head Ray for a week. Egad.

One of the fruits of our trip south was a shiny new copy of God of War II from Sony character modeler Kevin Anderson. I'm looking forward to giving it a whirl, but between Guitar Hero II and Ghost Recon 2 on the 360 and Motorstorm and Resistance on the PS3, i'm in a bit of a video deluge at the moment.

Coachella is this coming weekend, and although V and i have decided to forgo the trip south to the desert, we are instead catching many of the acts in the Bay Area on their way to or from the festival. On Monday we caught Placebo at the Fillmore, which i shall document shortly. I skipped Air last night due to exhaustion, and am doing the same this evening with the Popscene Bay Area debut of Amy Winehouse (whose retreading of Motown has me scratching my head) and mismatched gig partners the Klaxons. This weekend we've got Jarvis Cocker, the Kaiser Chiefs, and LCD Soundsystem. It's like 1995 all over again. My acquisition of new music still hasn't recovered, and to be honest i'm not quite sure how to kick it into high gear again. Perusing Pitchfork for favorable reviews or ear-catching descriptions isn't doing it for me.

I can't believe that it has been almost a year since Roger Ebert stopped writing weekly movie reviews to focus on battling cancer. My friends know well my fondness for reading Ebert's comments. Even though i don't always agree with him, i think he writes extremely well and frequently offers more insightful thoughts than the movie on which he's reporting. I wish him all the best in his continuing struggle against cancer and hope that i will once again be comparing my movie notes against his.

American Idol has been an interesting spectacle in recent weeks. It's evolved into a battle of wills between the judges and "the enemy", including Howard Stern and VoteForTheWorst.com. Paula, Randy, and Simon have been fairly explicit in telling Idol hopeful Sanjaya that he isn't good enough to be on their stage, while Howard and VFTW.com have urged their audiences to vote for the lovable loser in an effort to expose the fundamental hypocrisy of the show (in VFTW's words), or just to screw with it (à la Howard). Their campaign has proved successful enough to get Sanjaya into the top 7, while the judges have struggled to avoid calling the American voting public stupid. Paula and Randy instead have doted on Sanjaya's crazy dos, and Simon has taken to finding ambiguous ways to evaluate his performances, such as saying simply "incredible". It became a game of chicken in recent weeks ... would the judges crack and lambast the viewing public for their lack of taste, or would Howard and VFTW.com's ability to garner enough votes for Sanjaya falter? Although the latter did finally occur this week, it was amusing as Simon finally unloaded on Sanjaya for wasting his time. Reminiscent of Len's exasperation at Master P on Dancing with the Stars a while back. The AI judges in general have a nice hiding place, because they have no direct control over the outcome. It's when the public keeps around performers that they don't consider worthwhile that they get aggravated. Delightful. Tonight's departure of Sanjaya however unfortunately proves that the mischief-makers are still vastly outnumbered by those nuts who actually take Idol voting seriously. And now there is nothing remaining this season in which i am remotely interested.

This doesn't even merit discussion, but i'm sitting in front of the television watching Sarah and No Name's new TV show. Visually documenting their morning radio show. Now when Howard did this, he had all kinds of crazy crap going on in the studio. This is footage of three people sitting in a fairly lackluster room wearing headphones and speaking into microphones. With ultra-cheap graphics and flourishes popping up every few minutes. I thought this show had shed all semblance of appeal when i tuned in and heard them comparing candy bars: "Clark bars are good .......... yeah. 100 Grand too .......... what happened to Zagnut?". I didn't think there was a way to make this show less interesting, but they've found it. It almost makes me want to listen to Live 105's Woody Tony and Ravy. Hrm. No, never mind ... Sarah and No Name are just boring. WTR have their heads firmly up their asses and are each convinced that they are god's gift to mankind.

I spent the first day of my work week unexpectedly trolling around Newark while waiting for my car to be serviced. It had a bout of overheating over the weekend, so in anticipation of driving it down to L.A. this weekend i thought it best to have it checked out. No cheap, quick fix here ... both cooling fans had shorted out, which cost me a handsome sum. Knowing nothing about the inner workings of automobiles, i always feel like i'm nodding along and hoping the mechanic's charm is an indicator that they know what they're doing.

As a reward for devoting my weekend to writing programs for her, Veronica bought me a long-awaited PS3 on Saturday. However because of my aforementioned computer commitments, my experience with it has thus far been limited to installing the system updates and playing ten minutes of the impressive Motorstorm. I'm excited to do more racing through the mud, as well as to check out the most acclaimed game of the system's infamous launch, Resistance: Fall of Man.

We got a new refrigerator a week ago Friday, made by heretofore unknown contemporary appliance manufacturers Fisher and Paykel. It's a very slick stainless steel, bottom freezer model that fits snugly in the petite space allotted to it in our kitchen. So our home overhaul continues. I've said it before and i'll undoubtedly say it again, our kitchen is basically done. With this (however intermediate) sense of completion, we've outfitted our kitchen with fresh groceries, with an aim towards keeping it stocked. I always tend to get more done in the morning when i've had a bowl or two of Life cereal to kick things off.

I moved out old series 2 Tivo out to our rec room in the garage, so we now have Tivo on every television in our domicile. The future is here. Now if i could only get them all to talk to each other.

I played some more Motorstorm yesterday. That game is freaking hard. Either that, or i'm a complete dunce when it comes to off-road racing. What do you mean, i have to slow down going into curves? Damn mud! Stop nudging me, you jerks! I tried out Resistance for a bit, and got housed there as well. It certainly looks beautiful, but it didn't completely grab me on my first investigation. As always, i need to master the game mechanics. I found myself wondering why i couldn't take cover behind a pile of rubble and poke my gun cautiously over the top to pick off my enemies. You know, Ghost Recon/Gears of War style.

I've got to stop watching All My Children ... i was pointing out errors in continuity and realism in an episode last night. Like metaphysical singer/songwriter/transgender/jackass Zoe putting a hot frying pan on a coffee table after making breakfast. Adopting this line of criticism could keep me busy for weeks.

I enjoyed the second installment of the impromptu sketch comedy show Thank God You're Here! last night. Especially Harland Williams's domination of the scenes into which he was thrust. Brian Posehn looked lost, but as always his slightly stoned demeanor was enjoyable. With the rise of shows like Lost, 24, and Heroes, my consumption of television has dwindled. I like checking out the occasional sitcom, but i just don't have the time or attention necessary to keep up with continually evolving storylines, especially those as dense as the aforementioned programs. I understand their rise in popularity, as audiences want shows that evolve and don't just tread water. However, as with Twin Peaks, by the time my curiosity is piqued i'm 10 shows behind and don't have the patience to sit down for a marathon catchup viewing.

V's Mini's windshield is cracked for the second time in three months. I was hoping we could get it replaced for free under the new windshield warranty, however the glass people couldn't help but notice that the new crack is the product of a rock impact and not any defect in the windshield or the installation. Dammit. Time to call our insurance agent again. Maybe we'll have to buy a cover for the car to protect it from errant missiles showering Veronica's work parking lot.

We're off down to La-La-Land this weekend for V's cousin Millie's graduation. Hopefully the new cooling system in my Jetta will prove effective during the six hour drive up and down the central valley. Poor doggie will be revisiting the environs of the Mission San Jose Animal Hospital boarding facility.

Back home to my PS3 and Xbox 360. Oh sweet video distractions.

As much as the latest Bloc Party album has devolved into a disappointment for me, the anthemic "I Still Remember" still sends shivers down my spine and makes the tears well. Perhaps its resonance is the reason why i'm so bummed by the lackluster remainder of the record.

I'm still amazed that the second album by Canadian indie collective the Arcade Fire debuted at #2 on the Billboard Hot 200 sales chart. Not the alternative chart mind you, but the total sales chart. The accomplishment seems even more impressive when you consider that the only album to best Neon Bible in its opening week was the Notorious B.I.G.'s Greatest Hits. I'm still playing "No Cars Go" on endless repeat on my iTunes. For some reason i'm very proud of the widespread success of the Arcade Fire, unlike my jealousy when previous indie heroes Death Cab made a similar leap to the mainstream. The Washingtonians never made such a sales impact though.

I wasn't a huge fan of LCD Soundsystem during their ascendency to indie stardom. I believe i mockingly quoted a Streets lyric to describe to Veronica my disapproval of James Murphy's musical philosophy: "i make bangers, not anthems". That said, i can't stop listening to the transcendent "Someone Great" from Murphy's sophomore effort Sound of Silver. It reminds me of the utterly moving electronic pastiches of Dntel and the more captivating experiments of Fridge, with some of the Knife's moody and foreboding soundscapes washing over. A reviewer i can't recall said that this track demonstrates that Murphy is true songwriter and not just an indie kid with a few tricks up his laptop. Perhaps.

i wish that we could talk about it
but there, that's the problem

Because of work as well as the closure of several of my sources of musical information, the growth of my record collection has come to a grinding halt in recent weeks. After completing my Modest Mouse catalog a couple of weeks ago and grabbing a few random new albums, i just haven't had time to hunt down anything new. Time to scour Pitchfork for some current recommendations. I'm only 464 songs from my mp3 library reaching 50k ... so close!

Picked up the Xbox 360 version of Guitar Hero II last week on my way back from driving my parents to the airport. Between the tweaking of the song order, the addition of ten new songs, and the beautiful HD visuals, this latest incarnation is well worth purchase even if you already own the PS2 version. The inclusion of Iron Maiden's "The Trooper" is worth it all by itself. I rocked out playing this track on medium difficulty, and melted my brain and fingers attempting it on hard.

I was told the other day by an acquaintance who shall remain nameless that they had convinced Veronica to let me cut my hair. I was getting used to it until i learned that someone thought it looked so bad that they felt compelled to petition Veronica to let me go back to my spiky locks. Now i'm conflicted. I'm not sold on long hair in the back, it brings back shudder-inducing memories of my high school mullet. The long hair on the sides and especially the top looks quite good when i'm banging my head, however. Maybe a compromise is in order?

Speaking of easy listening, there's something about the ultra-corny Neil Diamond anthem "America" that always catches my attention. I'm not sure how i can demean Barry Manilow with one breath then defend lyrics like "on a boat, in a plane, they come to America" with the next.

I f@$#ing hate that beatboxing jackass on American Idol. He seems to think that being the "indie" one on a show championed by little old ladies and Barry Manilow enthusiasts gives him some kind of bragging rights. His horrible attempts at impressions didn't help either. Jimmy Walker Blue?!?!

Survivor is reuniting? And performing on Dancing with the Stars? Did their glory days extend more than 10 minutes before or after "Eye of the Tiger"?

Speaking of DwtS, i'm still tickled that they had to give Heather Mills the title "charity campaigner". I guess "former stripper" or "misshapen golddigger" didn't jive with the tone of the show. Now i've got a reworded version of the Beatles classic "Can't Buy Me Love" running through my head, featuring the lyrics "one legged whoooooore, whoooooore". How deliciously evil.

After teenage years spent wondering just how Booger was able to emit that neverending burp in Revenge of the Nerds (or any burp at all), i've somehow learned to do so recently. I'm not really boasting, it's more of a curse than a blessing. I can't figure out why after years my body has decided to pick up this habit. Adolescence catching up with a vengeance?

	The pièce de résistance. After first receiving the TV from the deliveryman, and talking him into helping me heave our old 32" CRT TV/immoveable object off the entertainment center, i noted that there appeared to be a lot of noise in the image. So much that when V saw it, she wondered what all the fuss over HD was about. After perusing some online forums and figuring out how to tweak the picture (bringing down the brightness and sharpness), the Sammy looks gorgeous. My jaw was on the floor while playing Ghost Recon: Advanced Warfighter 2. Moreso than my usual "mouth open" video game pose. V has noted that i'll now watch anything as long as it's in HD. I partook of Monster In Law on day 1, followed by a string of Law & Order episodes on TNTHD. We watched Stranger Than Fiction on DVD on Saturday night, which both looked wonderful and got me a bit teary. Will Ferrell should do more parts where he's the straight man. Not even one week old and i'm already in love with our black beauty.
	The day after receiving our showpiece TV, the DirecTV techs came round to put in a larger satellite dish and install our HD DVR. It's not Tivo, and as such it doesn't do some things as well (like fast forwarding and rewinding). Other things it does better though, like adding and managing season passes. After installing the dish the tech moved our old non-HD DVR into the bedroom, and informed me that hooking up a line to the second tuner on the unit would cost me a bit extra. I was under the impression that i could just split the one cable in the bedroom, so i declined. Turns out splitting lines from a satellite dish is no trivial endeavor. Different frequency ranges, transponder settings, etc etc ... not conducive to just popping in a coaxial splitter. I ran a second cable under our house out to the switch box, but couldn't figure out how to integrate it with the mess of wires and gave up. I called DirecTV to get them to return to run the line, and was informed that because i bought the protection plan this service is free. Doh. A different set of techs (equally distrusted by the cynical Tara dog) stopped by a few days later to hook the second line up to our dish (which was very quick since i'd already done the nasty job of running the cable under the house and up into the bedroom). I briefly borrowed the techs' large ladder to replace a few expired floodlight bulbs from around our house. Now our DirecTV setup is full steam ahead in all rooms once again. Having become an HD convert, V is now eyeing our aging bedroom CRT TV as a candidate for replacement by a 27" LCD HDTV. Progress!
	Last weekend i also set about replacing another kitchen light. The one in question was originally a conventional fixture that extended about 4" out of the ceiling. However, it was too close to several of the cabinets and prevented them from opening fully. Veronica had suggested we convert it to a recessed light, so i read a few online tutorials then picked up the necessary materials at Home Depot. Removing the old electrical box, i was faced with obstacle #1: the old box was suspended from a metal bar that ran between the ceiling joists, which to be removed properly would require me to tear up multiple patches of ceiling. Not enthused about that course of action, i found an online This Old House guide that suggested cutting such a bar with a close quarters hacksaw. I had just bought a new multi-purpose handsaw, so i put it to work. Fifteen minutes and a sore arm later, i had chopped the bar up and moved it out of the way. Problem #2: the wiring in our 75 year-old house is insulated by fabric sheaths from the pre-plastic days. Having aged significantly, these covers disintegrate when you bend the wiring. After futzing for a few minutes, i pulled all the decaying sheaths off and wrapped each exposed wire in electrical tape, then connected them to the fixture. I then set about hacking up our lathe and plaster ceiling to make room for the light receptacle. Egad. Looking at the mess i made on the floor, you'd think i tore down the entire ceiling rather than the little 3" ring i actually removed. At any rate, i was finally able to get the fixture in and secure it. Yesterday i plastered over the damaged edges of the hole, and today i'll wrap things up with a little paint and add the final baffle and bulb. Hoo rah.
	And finally, i picked up my new Alain Mikli eyeglasses in Palo Alto last week. Even though my prescription remains unchanged, switching to any new glasses keeps me off-balance for a week or so. I'm just coming out of the feeling of detached haze. V and i now have matching French frames. She insists the new glasses go great with my ever-lengthening locks. I'm still not sold on my hair length. Some days i love it, and others i feel like popping into Supercuts and telling them to chop it all off.