Please restore my power. And also, fix your effing website so that, while I don't have power, I can at least figure out when I can expect it.
Hugs and kisses,
TheRanga
Hugs and kisses,
TheRanga
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Bretton Woods
So, last week, on a whim, I accompanied Anant to Bretton Woods, NH. He was there for a conference on the Microeconomic Underpinnings of Macroeconomic Theory, a topic in which I take great interest, so I tagged along. Wait, sorry--they have a championship golf course there, so I went on a mini-vacation. Over two days, I probably hit 8 buckets of balls, had a private, hour-long lesson with a pro for the price of a group clinic, and played 18 holes. Most encouraging moment of the stay: when the pro told me that I should be shooting in the 70's with my swing. Least encouraging moment of the stay: realizing it's going to take a long time to get there, as evidenced by my 90 on the course. The irons were magnificent when they were hit right. Problem is, I only hit a handful right all weekend.
But that's enough golf talk. Let's talk about Vermont, a state we had to drive through on the way there. Now, I've read about Vermont, and about how they vehemently oppose the entry of Wal-Mart into the state and want to preserve the natural beauty of the place. That's fine, I've always thought--they're just sort of hippie. But seriously, Vermont, ever heard of lights? Infrastructure? Commerce? No development whatsoever. You can't drop a nuke on Vermont and hit a building, much less a business. I've never driven through such a desolate highway in my entire life--and I've driven across the US five times in the last decade, hitting every state except Maine and North Dakota. Of the 170 or so miles we drove in Vermont, there were 19 exits. And because Vermont is so dedicated to preserving the natural beauty of the state (it really is a beautiful state), even when there are exits, there is nothing to speak of. On I-91, over the entire ride, we saw one gas station and one McDonald's. They were on the same exit. Apparently some Vermont town sold out to corporate greed.
Normally, I wouldn't have a problem with any of this. Problem is, as day turned to night, the beauty of Vermont morphed into outright Blair Witch creepiness. Still, not a HUGE problem--just keep the head down and get to the resort, right? Well, here we are, minding our own business, cruising along at 75mph, and out of nowhere, a fucking coyote darts out in front of the car and BAM! Something goes flying over the top of the car as I brake hard. Immediately, I feel intense drag underneath the car and a lot more wind resistance. Clearly, the coyote is pinned under the car, and we're now going about 25-30mph a few hundred yards after impact. As we pull over, my heart is pounding, knowing that there is a damn coyote stuck under the front of the car. But because I'm a pussy, I make Anant get out and survey the carnage--I don't want to see a decapitated coyote stuck between the bumper and the tire. Anant gets out and, lo and behold, nothing is there. No blood, no fur, nothing. Just a bashed in front bumper (this is a rental car, btw).
Figuring it's not smart to survey the situation on the side of a dark highway, we decide to take the next exit and go to a gas station. Of course, this takes an extra 30 minutes. And when we arrive at the gas station at 8:15, it is closed. Luckily, we catch the owners as they are locking up, and they let us hang around, pop the bumper back into place, and come in and freshen up. This is when I realize that Vermont is not hippie at all. In fact, Vermont is just as redneck as any state in the nation. They're just almost-Canadian rednecks, which is why no one cares. Literally, they have enshrined a "Wall of Fame" of local kills right next to the bathroom inside the convenience store. One picture shows a camo-clad 60-year old woman with about 8 foxes and 35 coyotes, all dead and lined up for show on her deck, the woman gesturing over her conquest like Vanna White revealing the Wheel of Fortune answer. Below her is a series of pictures of an 8-year old boy who has killed a black bear and numerous 10+ point bucks. Trying to break the awkward silence with the owner, I say "wow, that kid is impressive." To which the owner replies, "yeah, it's too bad his family is under investigation for poaching."
Finally, we get back on the road. Happy to have the coyote slaying and Wall of Fame behind us, I'm ready to get to the resort. That's when I see the next road sign: "Caution: Moose Crossing Next 40 miles."
Dear God, get me the F out of Vermont.
But that's enough golf talk. Let's talk about Vermont, a state we had to drive through on the way there. Now, I've read about Vermont, and about how they vehemently oppose the entry of Wal-Mart into the state and want to preserve the natural beauty of the place. That's fine, I've always thought--they're just sort of hippie. But seriously, Vermont, ever heard of lights? Infrastructure? Commerce? No development whatsoever. You can't drop a nuke on Vermont and hit a building, much less a business. I've never driven through such a desolate highway in my entire life--and I've driven across the US five times in the last decade, hitting every state except Maine and North Dakota. Of the 170 or so miles we drove in Vermont, there were 19 exits. And because Vermont is so dedicated to preserving the natural beauty of the state (it really is a beautiful state), even when there are exits, there is nothing to speak of. On I-91, over the entire ride, we saw one gas station and one McDonald's. They were on the same exit. Apparently some Vermont town sold out to corporate greed.
Normally, I wouldn't have a problem with any of this. Problem is, as day turned to night, the beauty of Vermont morphed into outright Blair Witch creepiness. Still, not a HUGE problem--just keep the head down and get to the resort, right? Well, here we are, minding our own business, cruising along at 75mph, and out of nowhere, a fucking coyote darts out in front of the car and BAM! Something goes flying over the top of the car as I brake hard. Immediately, I feel intense drag underneath the car and a lot more wind resistance. Clearly, the coyote is pinned under the car, and we're now going about 25-30mph a few hundred yards after impact. As we pull over, my heart is pounding, knowing that there is a damn coyote stuck under the front of the car. But because I'm a pussy, I make Anant get out and survey the carnage--I don't want to see a decapitated coyote stuck between the bumper and the tire. Anant gets out and, lo and behold, nothing is there. No blood, no fur, nothing. Just a bashed in front bumper (this is a rental car, btw).
Figuring it's not smart to survey the situation on the side of a dark highway, we decide to take the next exit and go to a gas station. Of course, this takes an extra 30 minutes. And when we arrive at the gas station at 8:15, it is closed. Luckily, we catch the owners as they are locking up, and they let us hang around, pop the bumper back into place, and come in and freshen up. This is when I realize that Vermont is not hippie at all. In fact, Vermont is just as redneck as any state in the nation. They're just almost-Canadian rednecks, which is why no one cares. Literally, they have enshrined a "Wall of Fame" of local kills right next to the bathroom inside the convenience store. One picture shows a camo-clad 60-year old woman with about 8 foxes and 35 coyotes, all dead and lined up for show on her deck, the woman gesturing over her conquest like Vanna White revealing the Wheel of Fortune answer. Below her is a series of pictures of an 8-year old boy who has killed a black bear and numerous 10+ point bucks. Trying to break the awkward silence with the owner, I say "wow, that kid is impressive." To which the owner replies, "yeah, it's too bad his family is under investigation for poaching."
Finally, we get back on the road. Happy to have the coyote slaying and Wall of Fame behind us, I'm ready to get to the resort. That's when I see the next road sign: "Caution: Moose Crossing Next 40 miles."
Dear God, get me the F out of Vermont.
Friday, August 19, 2011
The ManCave!
"TheRanga, what's going in your ManCave?" you may be wondering. Well, I'll tell you!
AV Receiver: Denon AVR-3312CI
Front Speakers: Polk Audio RTi10's
Center Speaker: Polk Audio CSi5
Surround Speakers: Polk Audio FXi A4's
Subwoofer: Polk Audio DSW microPRO 1000
Projector: Undecided between Epson PowerLite Home Cinema 8350 and Epson PowerLite Home Cinema 8700UB
Projector Screen: One of these
Blu-Ray Player: Oppo BDP-93
Pool table: Either this or this
As you can see--this all requires money. While I plan on paying MSRP on none of these items, it will still take time. The goal is to have it all ordered and installed hopefully in the next 6-8 weeks, with plenty of time to watch the NFL season heat up. It's all coming together.
AV Receiver: Denon AVR-3312CI
Front Speakers: Polk Audio RTi10's
Center Speaker: Polk Audio CSi5
Surround Speakers: Polk Audio FXi A4's
Subwoofer: Polk Audio DSW microPRO 1000
Projector: Undecided between Epson PowerLite Home Cinema 8350 and Epson PowerLite Home Cinema 8700UB
Projector Screen: One of these
Blu-Ray Player: Oppo BDP-93
Pool table: Either this or this
As you can see--this all requires money. While I plan on paying MSRP on none of these items, it will still take time. The goal is to have it all ordered and installed hopefully in the next 6-8 weeks, with plenty of time to watch the NFL season heat up. It's all coming together.
Update
Ok, first things first. I'm sure you've all been wondering, "What has TheRanga been up to all these months?" Well, I'll tell you. I've been down in the basement. We've got a semi-finished, 1100 sq. ft cave downstairs in the house that has served as a large storage room for the last year. Oh, and a Beirut arena. But that's pretty much it. For New Year's, the basement looked terrible, but we salvaged what we could out of it. We used cardboard boxes from a tv and some speaker towers to construct a makeshift Beirut table. Because I am a lazy sack of shit, that table was just taken down about a month ago, and the attendant beer bottles disposed of at the same time. Whoops.
Anyway, I've gotten my act together. Thanks to MomRanga, I got the idea to simply stain the concrete floor, rather than mess with installing carpet or tile flooring. For a manageable $650 and about 3-4 full, hard days of work, Anant and I got the basement looking good--a nice, leathery look with a muted gloss. We took that picture about 5 minutes after the acid was sprayed on, so the pic appears wetter/glossier than the floor finally ended up. The sealing process was a bit of a monkey F-ing a football, but we got it done, with only a few whitish spots here and there. The key lesson there--apply many thin coats of sealant, and make damn sure the floor is dry before you do it! Still, more or less, the floor looks excellent after applying the final coats of floor polish. I figure we saved probably $3-4k by doing it ourselves, rather than going with a professional.
Now, just to get some electrical wiring and baseboard trim, and we're good to go. ManCave, here we come! Next up--pool table, bar/buffet, projector, screen, and some thunderous speakers.
And We're Back
Sorry for the months of absence. This is my cursory post to say I'll be better about getting the blog going. I'm going to include way more than Duke bball at this point, since Duke bball is just a November to April issue.
In the spirit of the above issues, I've repackaged the blog and branded it my own to reflect that more than just bball will be discussed here. Gone is gotohellcarolina.blogspot.com and here we are at therangablog.blogspot.com.
What do you want to hear about?
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