Now it’s time for “Weekend Update”: with all the latest news about things in my life wrapped up in a quaint blog cliché. (That’s right, can’t even be buggered with post-by-post updates of things in my life; I’m reduced to weekend summaries posted on Mondays. Fun!)

On Saturday, we had our first appointment to take Boo to the V-E-T. And, let me tell you, that cat still hasn’t quite forgiven us yet. We didn’t initially have a carrier for Boo, so we decided to just try and wrap Boo up in a towel until we could stop and get the carrier before taking her to the vet.

Boo wasn’t real keen on that idea. Kelly tried valiantly to hang on to Boo wrapped in a towel, but Boo kicked and struggled at every turn. Boo has two unique noises that she makes when she is very angry and about ready to lash out. She has one noise that sounds like a car when it’s revving down. Kind of a “MEEEEEWWWWWeeeeewwwrrrrreeeewwwwwwrrrrr.” I guess a .WAV file would be worth a thousand letters here, but imagine an engine dying down, except instead of the metallic sounds of an engine dying down, replace that with an irritable cat. The other noise she makes is kind of similar, except it sounds like a computer powering down. “PYYYYEEEEEEeeeeeeoooooooooorrrrrrrrr.” This sound happens about three times and then it’s immediately followed by lashing out at whatever is angering her, in this case my wife, who has her trapped in the towel.

Kelly’s parents come and pick us up and we make it to Target and I run in and grab the carrier (the only one in the store) and I hastily assemble the carrier in my lap and then we put Boo in that instead. Boo is still not happy, but we’ve defused the situation down from level DEFCAT 1.

So, we’re approaching Kelly’s parents’ apartment (the layover for us to then take Boo to the vet) and then Boo starts making a new noise, one we have never heard before. To endeavour another weak attempt at explaining sound to the deaf through onomatopoeic phrases, it sounded like “MRRRAWWRmrrrawwwrmrrrrowlllrrrrrrr.” That’s three distinct syllables in there of declining pitch and volume. It’s hard to explain, but this actually had us all in stitches, it was so pitiful-sounding. (I know, I know. We’re all horrible people.) Anyways, about halfway through this fit, I had a horrible realization as to the reason for the beastly moan (and cat owners out there can probably guess what it was) and, sure enough, Boo had the displeasure of experiencing her breakfast for the second time that day.

Of course, lest you forget the setup here, Boo is in the carrier IN MY LAP while this is all happening and, while I was extremely fortunate to have the carrier absorb the majority of the…uh…kibble paste, I was the first to experience the smell. And I almost got to reexperience my own breakfast.

Wash the cat, wash the carrier. Boo, by the way, is fine in all of this. After she was done, she was all like, “Ah, I feel much better now. Do you think I could get something to eat, though?”

Yeah, yeah. I also like how everyone keeps saying things to the effect of, “Hey, it’s good practice for the baby.” By doing so, they’ve all been added to the “Disgusting Diaper of the Month Club,” wherein they will all receive eight disgusting diapers for 1 penny apiece, after which they will receive a disgusting diaper in the mail each month unless they specifically opt out of further disgusting diaper mailouts (please allow six to eight months for processing opt out requests).

On to the vet. I should point out at this juncture that Boo has never left the apartment in her tenure here. She’s an indoor cat (and was declawed before we got her) and has no desire whatsoever to leave the apartment. She’ll often sit on the table by our front door and stare outside, catching glimpses of the outside world, but has never run. So, now we’re expecting her to never EVER leave, because I’m sure she associates the outside world with all sorts of unpleasant things. We get to the vet and mercifully there are no other animals there to scare Boo further…until a lady who couldn’t have been 5′5″ comes in with two MASSIVE, boisterous golden retrievers. (At least, I’m pretty sure they were golden retrievers. They were really big though and had a real muddy coat color.)

Of course, one of those two dogs comes over to the carrier and looks inside thinking either “Friend?” or “Snack?” and Boo curls up in the back of the carrier with eyes the size of dinner plates (no small feat for a small cat) and she looks up at me with abject terror and the expression was very plain: “Oh my God. I’ve died and I’m in the sixth circle of cat hell.”

Which of course, all pales in comparison to actually going back to see the vet, getting two shots, a thermometer up the butt and more poking and prodding than the poor cat is really willing to accept.

Oh, and then we take her back to Kelly’s parents’ apartment, and we have to leave her locked in the bathroom (they have three dogs) so that we can go get groceries.

Needless to say, Boo’s been kind of avoiding us since then, but I guess she’s fine.

So, moving on from cat-related news. We also finally saw The Simpsons Movie on Saturday night as well. Both Kelly and I enjoyed it a great deal. I was concerned about the film during the early preview phases (remember that early trailer with the 3D bunny?), but as time went on and we started seeing some actual footage, I was less concerned and more anxious. By the time the film was here, I went in expecting to have a good time and I did.

Put it like this: regardless of your opinion of the show (and the level of rabidness of your fandom—or lack thereof), this is the last hurrah for The Simpsons. The series jumping the shark has been discussed ad nauseum already, so there’s no point in further haranguing Fox for that, and any future movies will certainly not be as funny as this one. So, let’s all just enjoy this moment, the last of the perfect moments we’re ever going to get from one of history’s greatest television franchises.

I know, that’s not really a review. But there’s really nothing to review. If you like The Simpsons or have ever liked The Simpsons or have ever even so much as chuckled at a joke on The Simpsons when flipping between channels, you’ll probably enjoy the movie. If you’re a diehard Simpsons fan, you’ve already seen it, but if you’re an average fan, or if you remember the glory years: go, enjoy it, and pretend that the franchise ends there.

First trip to the OB today, so we got baby’s first picture today.

It’s a little humbling watching your child’s heartbeat for the very first time (and at 178 beats per minute too—wow!).

I have just learned what will happen at the end of the final Harry Potter book. WARNING: SPOILERS!!!

Wow. Who would’ve thought it? Harry unhooked Hermione’s watch and Snape falls to his death from the top of Nakatomi Tower.

I was offline for most of this busy weekend, so here’s a recap.

FRIDAY

Went to go see Live Free or Die Hard with the wife. She had previously indicated that she might want to see this earlier, but now claimed to have little desire to do so. (Probably because there was another movie that she wanted to see. More on that later.) It was about what I expected. To quote Futurama, “a crummy world of plot holes and spelling errors.” But stuff blew up, even if none of it made sense, so it evened out I guess. I give it a 3/4 out of 1 7/8 stars. (UPDATE: Related Penny Arcade comic.)

But, we did get to have dinner at one of our favorite restaurants (warning: Flash & sound), so, again, it all evened out in the end.

SATURDAY

Started off the day running errands. We went to Sam’s Club and somehow resisted the temptation to buy a five-gallon, industrial-sized drum of all-purpose mustard. Then we had the fun privilege of going to my nephew’s birthday party at CHUCK E. CHEESE, a place that overstimulates to the point where capital letters are not just representative, they’re practically required to fully describe it. Now, I haven’t been to the place in ages. I’m of the rare group where I still remember Showbiz Pizza Place. It’s amazing how a $1.17 billion market cap can sterilize a company through cheap food, cheap entertainment and eight-year-old video games, but whatever. Ultimately the kid had fun and that’s what’s important—because there’s nothing about CHUCK E. CHEESE that says that they’re interested in making a parent happy and pleased that their child is receiving the intellectual and developmental stimulation that they need.

So, after the CHUCK E. CHEESE adventure, we were off to a “Weird Al” Yankovic concert. The concert was great but first, a special jeer to the idiots at the Garland Independent School District whose Special Events Center hosted the concert. They kept me, my pregnant wife and a couple thousand other people in a massive line OUTDOORS in the 95+ degree heat for over an hour for reasons that still remain completely unknown. (Although, if I had to guess, I would imagine their $3.00 Coke sales were extra brisk as a result.)

But enough about those idiots, they didn’t spoil an otherwise AWESOME concert. Weird Al knows how to put on a show, featuring not just stuff from his new album, but plenty of his classics from years gone by. Watching Al make a fool of himself by singing “You’re Pitiful” while stripping down to a SpongeBob T-shirt, pink tutu and leggings was hilarious, but also the video interludes in between songs from his fictitious Al TV interview segments (this one is still my favorite). Plus an encore performance of “Albuquerque,” which is one of my favorite songs of all time.

SUNDAY

So Sunday rolls around and we sleep in because we’re exhausted and our voices were starting to give out from the previous night as we were singing along with Weird Al at the top of our lungs. But there’s no rest for the weary, it’s time to make the trip to the dreaded Wal-Mart. (*dun dun DUNNNNNNNN*) I hate going to Wal-Mart in general (company policy: only one register open for every 15,000 customers in the store at any time) but Wal-Mart on a Sunday is about as bad as things get (save for Wal-Mart at Christmas). Thousands of people buying crap, narrow, impassable aisles where people linger in the middle of the aisle talking on a cell phone, not paying attention to people trying to maneuver around them, and so on, and so forth.

The best part about the whole venture was realizing that the one reason we went to Wal-Mart (and not Target) in the first place—a bed sheet/comforter/something or other set that Kelly wanted—we ended up totally spacing out and forgot to look for it.

Home, race, nap. Then Kelly sneaks in and asks me, using those eyes and that tone of voice that is genetically tied to that second X chromosome (that features the estrogen-borne enzyme: “turnmenintoblitheringgooine”), the one that I hope scientists will find a way to suppress before my first daughter is born, “Honey, I reeeeeeally want to go see the new Harry Potter movie. Could you take me to go see it?”

Now, see, I’m not a Harry Potter fan. No, check that, I’m not a fan of fantasy at all. That little “F” that hangs at the end of “SF/F”? Wouldn’t miss it if it disappeared. Kelly, on the other hand, adores that. She’s the Lord of the Rings nut and loves all of the Harry Potter books and movies to pieces, joining in with other internet fans to slurp up every last trinket of random information. (”FIRST SCREENS OF HELENA BONHAM CARTER AS BELLATRIX!!”) I, on the other hand, have to ask stupid questions like, “Who pays for this elaborate, architecturally-grandiose school and its transportation network to and from it? Not to mention paying for things like overall maintenance, new student recruitment, and other ongoing school-related expenses.” Then Kelly glares at me for daring to question the universe that she’s able to suspend her disbelief for, but I’m not.

But anyway, back to the point at hand, I’m now stuck because Kelly has done that universal “girl” thing where she can just touch your hand, give a slight breathiness to her voice and with the most saccharine lilt she can muster, asks for something that she knows perfectly well I have no desire to do. Of course, this leaves me (and every man who’s ever experienced this) with the lose-lose situation she had planned: I can relent and give her what she wants (at my expense) or I can be the bad guy. And being the bad guy has its own set of challenges because most women start out at about "level 6" with that “I’m going to get what I want” charm, but the instant you say “No,” that gets cranked up to 11. The eyes get big, the lower lip juts out just a little, they start stretching their words out in a whine, you can almost hear the lone, sad violin in the background. You know it’s an act and you hate it, but you know the alternative is to have a grumpy wife/child/girlfriend/whatever for the rest of the day, so you cave.

So we went to see Harry Potter. I had no idea what was going on, but it looked pretty. So, I have to give it a rating of an imaginary number of stars out of a possible infinity. I’m waiting for the sequel, Harry Potter and the Vast Sums of Disposable Income (created by J.K. Rowling, ghost-written by some hack that Bloomsbury hired). Go on, tell me it won’t happen, say it’ll be different. It will happen someday, I guarantee it. Cash cows are always slaughtered in the end (à la Apocalypse Now).

RB: “I’ve noticed that your baby radar isn’t really active anymore.” [Ed. Prior to pregnancy, Kelly's eyes would always immediately drift to the cute children running around wherever we were.]
KC: “Yeah, it’s kind of turned internal now. It’s like the radar has a radioactive rock next to it now.”
RB: “A radioactive rock?”
KC: “Yeah.”
[Long pause. I start giggling and then laughing out loud.]
KC: “No! Wait! That’s a Geiger counter!”

Okay, I got a little freaked out about this blog post today. You see, I actually used to LIVE IN THAT BUILDING!! And it’s just the slightest bit disconcerting knowing that a building I lived in barely months ago is crumbling like that. (Although, admittedly, I’m also quite happy that I don’t live there anymore as well.)

And now, as thanks for indulging me a little bit, here’s a video of a cat eating corn:

Okay. So, I had to take one of those competency tests for preemployment screening and it was one of the worst experiences I’ve ever had.

A huge red flag came up when their own brief registration form was riddled with simple errors. Such as failing to recognize that maybe, just maybe, punctuation is okay in some of the registration fields, like, saaaay, addresses (”Blvd.”, “#123", etc.). But, bonus: to tell me there was an error, the JavaScript got caught in an infinite loop telling me over and over and over again that I couldn’t use punctuation in any of the fields, but wouldn’t give me a chance to correct it. It took me about six or seven Firefox force quits to finish the form. (Additional bonus: trying the form without JavaScript enabled screwed the pooch entirely.)

So, that’s not a good sign. So I finally get into the ColdFusion competency test and I get to the first question and not only are they calling it “Cold Fusion” [sic], but the very first question has multiple correct answers!!!! Also not a good sign.

Then, finally, to add insult to injury, the bulk of the test has to do with only the most OBSCURE parts of ColdFusion, the ones that very few people use, let alone use often. There were some things in there that in my seven years of ColdFusion experience, I’ve never used. EVER. I’ve never done JRun integration or used the Flash Remoting software or COM objects or WDDX or the Verity engine. I know OF all these things, but I’ve never had to use any of them in my life.

That ended up being about 90% of the test. Almost nothing on, oh, I don’t know, MAYBE THE ACTUAL FREAKING CODE THAT YOU USE EVERY DAY!! To use an analogy as to what’s this like, it’s like being asked to take a test on practical mathematical skills only to go in and discover that it’s actually a test on theoretical orbital physics (and it’s being proctored by someone who doesn’t have a clue about the field, like a history teacher or something).

So, I reverted back to how I got by in school: I did my best guessing. I used process of elimination, guesses based on keyword association, but it was mostly shots in the dark. As an added bonus, some of the questions asked for specific, almost dictionary definitions of obscure ColdFusion concepts, and then gave four multiple choice possibilities that were only a word or two off from each other.

Somehow, I got almost exactly 50% correct. If they take this test seriously (or think that this test somehow seriously determines someone’s competency or experience in this field), I’m going to be pissed and screwed at the same time.

I love stories that encompass vast universes that the creator comes up with. Places like the universe of Gene Roddenberry’s Star Trek, Yoshiyuki Tomino’s Mobile Suit Gundam or Joss Whedon’s Firefly. All imagine these elaborate worlds of the future where their creators could envision the universe being in the years to come. I’ve always been a fan not just of the stories, but of the world they surround their stories with, imagining just how future events could play out that could very well enable the future they created.

Well, lately, I’ve been reading the alternate history fictional works of Harry Turtledove and have found his works just as engrossing as the science fiction universes that others have created. Part of it stems from my natural love for all things historical, but I find it fascinating how a slight alteration in our world’s history could conceivably create a world that might appear to be similar to ours, but would feature marked differences. Alternate historical fiction acts just like science fiction except it gets to skip the real forthcoming future that will show the work to be rife with inaccuracies as speculative futuristic fiction always ages inelegantly. Such as the art deco future of Metropolis, the nuclear-powered economy of the distant future in Asimov’s Foundation, the positively-antique looking computers and handheld communicators of Star Trek, the increasingly-unlikely flying cars and power-laced Nikes of Back to the Future II or the multitude of dire post-apocalyptic or end-of-the-world predictions (Mad Max, Terminator II, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Akira, Soylent Green, etc.) whether with a specific timetable or not.

Alternate history, instead of thinking about what might happen in the future, if a few things happen a certain way, gets to alter the outcome of one event, or introduce a new event into our existing history and play out how things might have happened instead. So, enter Harry Turtledove’s Timeline-191 franchise. It is so named for the one event that was changed in this history: that Robert E. Lee’s Special Order 191 never fell into American hands. Turtledove then proceeds to chase that train of thought: Robert E. Lee’s troop movements never fall into McClellan’s hands, the Battle of Antietam never happens, the Confederate Army of Northern Virginia ends up routing McClellan in Pennsylvania at the fictional Battle of Camp Hill and eventually marches on to Philadelphia, captures it and forces a truce on the United States. As such, the British and French end up supporting and recognizing the Confederacy, the Emancipation Proclamation is never given, Lincoln is drummed out of office in the 1864 election and the war becomes known as the War of Secession, not the Civil War as we understand it.

Thus sets up the first novel in the franchise How Few Remain. In 1881, Mexico, desperately in debt under the rule of Emperor Maximilian, offers to sell the states of Sonora and Chihuahua to the Confederacy. The United States, which had recently elected the hawkish President James G. Blaine, is vehemently opposed to the Confederate expansion (which also nets the Confederacy a Pacific Ocean port) and sends the U.S. into a second war against the Confederacy.

The first novel in the franchise follows famous historical figures in their new roles during this, the so-called “Second Mexican War”: Abraham Lincoln, drummed out of office but not assassinated as in our timeline, becomes enamored with the concept of Marxist socialism and becomes one of its leading proponents; General Stonewall Jackson, a hero of the Confederacy (and not killed by jittery scouts at the Battle of Chancellorsville) leads the Confederates into battle against the Americans; and Samuel Clemens remains a little-known newspaper writer in San Francisco. The story also prominently features General George Custer, Theodore Roosevelt and Frederick Douglass, among others.

The remaining novels, continue in the same timeline, but pick up at the outbreak of World War I in 1914 (where the United States instead allies itself as part of the Quadruple Alliance against the Quadruple Entente that now includes the Confederacy). In addition, Turtledove must have realized quickly that he would have difficulties if he decided to continue as he had in the first book and follow only famous historical figures. As the timelines became increasingly divergent, it would also become increasingly unlikely that all of the same people who are famous historically in our timeline would be famous in this new timeline as different experiences would alter people and their views on the world. So, starting with the second book in the franchise, The Great War: American Front, the stories follow “commoners” (with historical figures still appearing here and there—Woodrow Wilson, for example, is now President of the Confederacy) throughout the remainder of the franchise.

However, this is where the biggest Turtledove complaint that I’ve seen comes in. Painting a picture of the world through the eyes of commoners is more difficult because they do not have a broader view of what’s happening in the world. To make up for this deficiency, Turtledove has to follow almost twice as many characters as in the first book not only to paint this broader picture, but to set up certain characters for their eventual roles as the timeline rolls on. This is difficult to start out with because it takes Turtledove about four or five chapters to provide updates on what’s happening in each of their lives, so by the time you cycle back to some characters, sometimes you have to stop and think of what was happening to them beforehand before proceeding. As time goes on and you become more engaged with the characters, however, this becomes less of a problem.

All in all, though, I heartily recommend at least this particular Turtledove franchise for science fiction fans, historical fiction fans or anyone that likes getting enveloped in a large and expansive universe of the author’s creation. Admittedly though, I’m only on the fourth book of eleven, but I’m completely hooked and anxiously await getting the next ones.