Here’s my latest series of photos…

…she said “yes,” btw.

Happy Easter, Easter bunny.

Tonight, I built my own lightbox using a tutorial from Strobist. I have to say that I am a) impressed with how nice and easy it makes lighting stuff, and b) I wish that I would have done it a long time ago, when I first read the tutorial.

Here are some of the shots that I took tonight in the new lightbox:

Hollow Points on White:

Macro Closeup of a Hairbrush:

OMG! I was SO sick of the warmth. Thank goodness it snowed like 15 inches today. I was beginning to think that it was never going to snow - and I was getting stir crazy being able to go outside and enjoy despise the comfortable weather. I own a snowblower. I should be able to use it all months of the year! Hooray for snow!!!1!!11!!1!1!11!!

I bought a new lens today thanks to the overage that I paid Uncle Sam in taxes this year. Now I just need to sell $500 worth of macro photography and I’m in the black (for this lens, at least).

It is taking a little getting used to. I thought I could get an inch away from an object and the lens would focus, but it’s searching all over the place. Maybe my contacts need cleaning on my camera body? I’m not sure. Anyway… I’ll post some photos when I figure the damn thing out.

Actually, here’s one but I’m not super satisfied with it:

…but all that sh*t seems to disappear when I’m with you…

Love this song.

This is a R-rated preview - so if you can’t take a little sexual content, please don’t watch it. But… if you do, you’ll see that it’s absolutely friggin’ hilarious!

R-Rated Forgetting Sarah Marshall Trailer:

Green energy is surely going to lower the value of my home. Recently I started seeing wind turbines sprouting up around the horizon by my home. Now there are dozens of them scattered about the area. I’m not worried about the geese near the Horicon Marsh getting decapitated, I am worried about the price of my home going down.

Damn you, Al Gore!

Photo credit: Forward Energy, LLC.

Tonight I treated myself to an hour at the local shooting range. Here’s what I found:

1. One of my Glock 27 magazines is all sorts of jacked up. Ever since I bought it, one clip jams on the fifth round. As soon as I’m done writing this, I’ll send an e-mail to Glock’s customer support.
2. I love my Beretta. The PX4 Storm is a great gun.
3. The price of lead is astronomical. It costs twice as much to shoot as it did a year ago. Big Bullets must be raking in huge profits and taking Big Oil out to dinner.
4. I’m a pretty damn good shot.
5. Some old man was teaching his daughter or daughter in law how to shoot his .357. She kept taking her mufflers off because they apparently hurt her head. I would think the loud banging noises would hurt worse, but whatever floats her boat, I guess.

Where rhythm is life, and life is rhythm…

Mount up.

A few years ago, I pointed out that country music had an all-of-the-sudden fascination with singing about babies. Then… it was kids. The new trend in country music is singing about other country artists. You can pass your own judgment on the issue (or not care about it either way) - but I think it’s friggin’ lame.

First -> Taylor Swift sang a song called, “Tim McGraw.” It’s a well-written song (especially since Swift was only like 16 when she wrote it).

Next -> Jason Aldean sang, “Johnny Cash.” Okay, Mr. Name Dropper, I’ll give you a pass, but only because Mr. Cash passed away not too long ago.

Then -> Just last week I added, “Kristofferson” (meaning Kris Kristofferson) by Tim McGraw to our station’s music rotation.

Today -> In the mail I received a new single from Heidi Newfield (formerly of the group, Trick Pony) called, “Johnny and June.” Hey, I don’t know if you got the memo, Heidi, but there was a) already a song about Johnny Cash and b) singing about other country artists has already been done.

This isn’t, of course, the first time that country music has played the name-dropping game. Here are some other titles:

• “Are You Sure Hank Done it This Way” - Waylon Jennings
• “Bob Wills is Still the King” - Waylon Jennings
• “Hank Williams, You Wrote My Life” - Moe Bandy
• “Willie, Waylon, and Me” - David Allan Coe
• “Weed With Willie” - Toby Keith

And I’m sure there are more that I couldn’t think of off the top of my head.

Many can brook the weather that love not the wind.

~Shakespeare, Love’s Labour’s Lost

Kenny Chesney: Outta Here

Lyrics after the jump: (more…)

My neighbors, Phil and Lisa, are from Illinois. They closed on their home here in Maytown on the same day that I did. So, we are both subject to the wrath of the outcast here in our cliquey little town. It’s all good - we’ve got each other.

One night, while searching for some takeout food, Phil and I stopped into this little restaurant that is about a block and a half from my house. Even though I’ve been here for two-and-a-half years, I had never been there before. When we walked in the door, everybody in the place turned and looked at us like we had just walked, uninvited, into somebody’s home. Upon learning that they only serve fish on Fridays, we left.

Last Friday night, Phil, Lisa, and I decided that it would be nice to go out and try their fish. When we got there the place was packed. They told us it would be an hour. We said we’d wait.

I’m glad we did wait, because we had the oddest service experience I think I’ve ever seen:

1. A half hour to forty minutes after we started waiting, a woman came around and said, “Michael Martin - party of four.” I stood up. She quipped, “no, no, no, it’s not your turn yet, I’m just giving you your menus.” Uhm… okay.
2. About ten minutes later, a waitress came by and asked us what we wanted to eat. We gave her our order.
3. Some time later, the waitress came by and said, “your food is ready and waiting for you at table ten.” Yeah, that’s right, we had to go, unescorted, and find table number ten because our food was already waiting there on it.
4. After we finished eating, the waitress cleared off all of our plates and brought us the tab. I gave Phil cash and he was going to pay with his debit card.
5. Phil went up to the front to pay. The woman said, “how much would you like to leave as a tip.” Phil replied, “five dollars.” “How much?,” she questioned. RUDE! Phil should have replied, “you know what - NOTHING.”

The food was okay, but it was nothing to write home about. I won’t be stopping there again - unless I’m in need of some comic relief.

You can buy a whole lotta peace for $3,800. Yikes.

(of course, Elliot Spitzer got a whole lotta piece for $4,300 )

Well, I got my tax returns, and I am about to jump into something that I’m unsure about… it rhymes with bitchen recoddle. I have never tiled a floor, nor refinished cabinets, nor replaced a sink and counter top - but gosh darnit… I’m going to do it.  And after that - it’s the bathroom.

…and hopefully relatively soon after I’m done, I’ll move  away from my 66×66 cell in the Mayville penitentiary.