Importance: High

I love having my iPod at work! The best tunes in the world from the present and past are piped directly into my ears while I attack some of the least engaging tasks I've ever completed. Another one pager? "Say it Ain't So-ooo-woah-oo-woah!" Intranet updates by COB?! "I think we better wait till tomorrow!" My presentation doesn't meet corporate standards!? "Who do you think I was?!" You need that report tomorrow? "I ain't sayin she's a gold digger!" ... that one makes no sense.

Life, Liberty and the Search of...

I've found it. Well, my roomies found it and introduced me. I'd driven by it a couple times, and you know how it goes: "Oh, that looks like it might be good." Well for god's sake, stop next time! If I would have, I'd be the guy who "found" Liberty Frozen Custard.

The place is a garage that's been retrofitted to be a throwback 1950s ice cream place - er, frozen custard place. The place has a slight identity crisis. Is it a garage-themed dessert place or just a straight up dessert place with a huge garage door? They've got sandwiches, hot dogs and vintage arcade games, too. Honestly, though, it doesn't matter. There's charm, and there's delicious desserts. Their gimmick, two new flavors each of frozen custard and Italian ice every day (check out their calendar). I can't get myself off of the custard, but the most refreshing is one scoop of their fruity Italian ice flavors with a scoop of vanilla custard. Only open till 10 each night, but one guy there will open up the window for the stragglers (shh, don't let it get out).

Favre martches down the field

Brett Favre continues to prove he is no mere mortal. He's been beaten up, broken, and even been declared dead before (ok, well, retired), yet he has always prevailed.

So is anyone really surprised to see him surge again for another bid for the Bowl? The guy's unstoppable. As a Vikings fan, I've hated the man. Laughed at him*, despised him, and even sent him hate mail. I hope he doesn't hold it against me. I've come to respect the grey-bearded Missourian for more than just a green-and-gold wearing warrior he was in the past. All before he was a candidate to join the Vikings, mind you. (Strib's Judd Zulgad)

He continues to prevail.

If a Viking fan can come to like the man, how do the Packers think they are going to win this PR battle? Favre has asked to be released, traded, and finally, to compete for his old job as a playoff-winning quarterback. They've turned him down on all fronts, and basically told him to stay at home. They've even lied about him using a company cell phone and checking phone records. Favre doesn't possess a company phone.

Sure, we could blame Favre for telling the world he was hanging his hat, and then turning again to try to claim his spot as Destroyer of the Secondary--weeks before training camp. But we don't. Or at least I don't and neither do many fans. If you've ever seen any other 38-year-old have as much fun playing a pro sport as Favre does, then we'd all love him or her, too.

I think that's why Favre can win the PR battle that continues to fester. He literally seems to hold nothing back when he talks to the media, which certainly isn't the way to win the hearts and minds throughout most media spectacles. But people like him. I know several Packers fans are not impressed with his recent antics, and it's no surprise that some Vikings fans want to tar and feather the guy no matter what the circumstances (but seriously, grow up--I think you could live with him as QB if the Vikes took a run at the Bowl).

But generally speaking, the public will support Favre even as he comes across as slightly bumbling:

“Them moving on does not bother me,” Favre said. “It doesn’t. I totally understand that. By me retiring March 3rd, I knew that could possibly happen. All I was saying is, you know, I’m thinking about playing again.”

And he appears to be flip-flopping more than IHOP on Sunday after church. He held on to his reinstatement papers, rather than shipping them off right away. He actually told the press that his wife and agent were not happy about that.

But he slowly marches down the field. He hasn't won yet, but he's making small gains, much like he's used to, utilizing short passes and the running game.

But as far as I can tell, we, the public, will support Favre through this nasty he-said-she-said. At least I will, wearing a shiny purple #4 jersey.

Do you want Favre in Minnesota?

(*I remember one instance where Favre broke his hand on a play and coddled his hand on the way over the to the bench, grimacing. I jeered the TV with my purple-clad friends making fun of how much of a wuss he was. Well during last week's men's lacrosse game I took myself out after a hit to ice my hand. It was not broken. Oh Karma...)

Bale's Curse

Go rent Rescue Dawn. The film is a soild account of a US Fighter pilot's struggle to survive after being shot down on a top-secret mission over Laos. Dieter Dengler, played by Christian Bale, is a German whose dream it was to become an American pilot.

The hot, sticky film is no Platoon. In fact, the green jungle, and uncomfortable realism is about all this and other Vietnam films have in common. Writer and Director Werner Herzog put together a much more subtle and sophisticated yet grungy film. Of course there's gunfire and blood and screaming, but it's scarce, and in turn, kicks you in the face harder when it happens. Half the movie is the plan to escape, building the anticipation. I won't steal anymore of the film's thunder.

Sure, The Dark Night has me on a Christian Bale kick right now. But just like the second Chris Nolan Batman installment, although Bale's performance is potent, his supporting cast delivers more flavor. (Ledger's single lip-smacking, ass-kicking, goosebump-inducing performance as the Joker deserves a posthumous lifetime achievement award on its own. And then Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman - nuff said). In Dawn, Dengler's partner in crime is played by Steve Zahn. Forget everything you know about the kooky best buddy. He's hilarious in Saving Silverman (him and Jack Black are the only reason to see that film), and he's alright in Sahara, but I'm convinced the lack of a big studio is the only reason he didn't snag an Oscar for this role. Steve Zahn gritty performance has you believing he was transported out of some Vietnam prisoner camp for the filming.

Nuff said. See this movie.

I entered the League of Extraordinary Douchebags today. What possibly could bring this down-to-earth, considerate, wonderful human being of an author to the D-bag status, you ask? I dove full force into bluetooth headset ownership with my popped collar waving in the wind. I know. Bad, huh?

Prior to purchasing the magical wireless D-bag accessory, I was perusing the options at the big blue box (yellow tag? D-bag candy store? I dunno what they call it). Almost every one of the headset boxes in Best Buy was mentioned "discreet design!" Well much to the contrary, there is now a permanent, very conspicuous black cyst attached to my ear with a blazing blue light shining from the center. And you want to know the part that bugs me the most? Nothing! Nada! I'm totally cool with it! I immediately opened the box, turned it on, and "paired" it, and called someone without even taking the my BlackBerry out of my pocket! Oh yeah, I have a new BlackBerry. File that one in the same douchbaggery column. I can read e-mails! And when I send e-mails via said device, they actually tell everyone that "this message sent via my BlackBerry." I've thought about replacing that message with "I sent this message while being a full fledged, registered D-bag, please call me so I can answer using my bluetooth wireless headset," but I'm too self righteously lazy to figure out how.

Feel free to join the club! There are discreet designs (sha...), and honestly, driving and answering, talking, and answering-calls-waiting is easier than ever before (texting is still a death-defying, daredevil stunt). It's so Spring 2008 to talk through a wired headset that turns you into Batman because it falls out any time you turn your head, nod, or breath (rubber-suited, stiff-necked-Michael Keaton-Val Kilmer-George Clooney Batman, not demi-god Christan Bale Batman). And plugging in that mini plug will get you just as crashed as occupying one hand with your mobile, if not more so. But I still text en route. Please forgive me.

Now if you'll excuse me, you're mild mannered author must excuse himself to go learn the finer points of the hey guns. They debut next weekend at the bars downtown.

**7/31/08 Update **

I no longer txt NE more! See this. Yikes.

50% per load

Ok. I'm an idiot. Flat out dumb. For the last couple weeks, my laundry detergent bottle has been sticky. Sure, not that shocking. But it wasn't just the front of the bottle. It was full-bottle stickiness that was getting on my nerves. Rather than live with rinsing and repeating every time I did laundry, I capped the bottle, and stuck it in the washer as it filled.

Ok. Get off my case! I planned to take it out, and I did... After the wash was done. Uncapped and empty. Over half a bottle of concentrated laundry detergent was in my clothes. After I rinsed for days, getting suds the whole time, I gave up and dried the load of whites today.

I started folding the load and wondered how babies' butts got in my laundry. The entire load was softer than silk. Hence my new strategy: half a bottle a load. Every time.