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April 13, 2005

iSubmarine — Now your iPod can swim with the fishes

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Check out this puppy.

"Seal your iPod inside our exceptionally engineered, clear Lexan housing and you can enjoy your music library anywhere."

Submersible and operable down to 10 feet.

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"Perfect for snorkeling and swimming."

Includes waterproof headphones.

"External scroll wheel control preserves full functions."

Works with 3rd or 4th generation iPods and iPod mini.

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$119.95 here.

April 13, 2005 at 04:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Kooki Sushi — Looks like fish, but it's chocolate!

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Some people can't stand the idea of raw fish — yucko, they say.

Well, if that's you and you always feel kind of left out when everyone piles into the car and heads for the sushi bar, here's just what you need: sushi that looks like the real thing but is made of white chocolate, sugar and rice.

Vegetarians, your nigiri has come in.

Karen Sasaki of San Jose, California created Kooki Sushi, where the Salmon Roe plate is $15, the Chocolate Chopsticks run $10 a pair and the Obento Box is $60.

Order here or call 866-465-6654.

April 13, 2005 at 03:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

What happened to Mickey Rourke?

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When I saw the photo (above) that accompanied today's USA Today story about him, I just about fell off my new rocking chair.

Said Rourke in the story, "I got on my motorcycle and didn't get off for 13 years."

He also lost all his money, homes and cars as well as his then-wife, model/actress Carré Otis.

He lived in an apartment and made a living boxing in the 90s, "though his good looks faded with the punches and reconstructive surgery."

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That's the understatement of the year.

April 13, 2005 at 02:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

TRUE.com — 'Married people and felons need not apply'

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It's estimated that 30% of the people on Match.com are married.

TRUE.com is a new online dating service that aims to drop its percentage of single impersonators to zero.

How?

By putting up a big, scary warning (above) on their signup page, with a red exclamation point and all, that reads:

    WARNING — Married People Need Not Apply

    If you are married and posing as single, be aware that you could be guilty of fraud and subject to civil and criminal penalties under federal and state law.

    For each offense, Title 18, Section 1343 of the U.S. Code authorizes fines of up to $250,000 and jail sentences of up to five years.

    TRUE reserves the right to report violators to law enforcement authorities and seek prosecution or civil redress to the fullest extent of the law.

    If you are married, please close your browser

Now that's pretty scary.

Jeez, pretending you were single at a bar never got anyone arrested, as far as I know.

"All members who contact you are screened through the largest database of criminal records on the Internet."

Tell you what: there's one specialized profession that finds this new site both amusing and potentially very good for business.

April 13, 2005 at 01:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Hanging Fishbowl

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No pets? No problem.

Anyone anywhere who's got a wall can now have a pet.

True, a goldfish won't sit at your feet in front of the fireplace or bring in the paper but hey, look on the bright side: it's yours.

"Just add water and your fish to create a wall treatment that's alive with color and movement!"

Wall treatment?

I think that's somewhat over-the-top, don't you?

I mean, it's a goldfish, for goodness sake.

Plastic; 12" diameter; holds three quarts of water.

$19.50 here (fish not included).

Guaranteed to drive your cat insane.

April 13, 2005 at 12:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

'Ultramarathon Man: Confessions of an All-Night Runner' — by Dean Karnazes

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What an excellent, absorbing book.

I just finished it and I am here to tell you that if you read it you won't complain about how hard your workout is/was/will be ever again.

Explore the mind, motivation and psyche of one of the world's greatest long distance runners.

By long distance I mean running by himself, over a two-day-and-night period without sleep, a 199-mile relay race normally done by teams of 12 people each running three 5.5-mile legs separated by many hours of rest.

Among the author's bona fides: he won Badwater last year.

Nuff said.

I will let the book speak for itself; here are excerpts:

    My steps were short and choppy at first, but slowly I eased into a moderate jog. It took a good half-mile for my body to acclimate to the pain. Initially there was an uncomfortable tingling sensation in my feet and legs, but eventually it all just went numb.

    The stout one was really suffering. It was clear he had been sick at least once; dried vomit covered his chin, and his legs were swollen and knotted. It appeared there was blood coming out of his ear, though I tried not to stare for too long.

    The runner was lying flat on his back. "I'm letting him nap a little while," his pacer explained. "He's been puking for about the last ten miles and he was starting to drift off, so it seemed like a good idea."

    "Are you staying with him all the way to the finish?" I asked. "If we can get that far," he said. "You know what DNF stands for, don't you?" I replied, "Yeah." He said, "At this point in the race, it stands for Did Nothing Fatal."

    I stopped crawling and waved my flashlight at the car. Eventually the driver slammed on the brakes, then pulled up beside me. A man and a woman leaped out. "Are you all right?" I was flat on my stomach in the road. Slanting my head sideways, I muttered, "Never felt better." "Oh, thank God," the woman cried. "We thought you got hit by a car." "Nah," I groaned. "I just look that way."

    I ran with the sandwich for perhaps a hundred yards, trying to stave off the nausea enough to take a bite. When I finally chomped into it, I found that the bread was toasted. That's strange, I thought to myself, Why would we bring a toaster to Death Valley? Then it occurred to me: I was running in a toaster.

    It was pitch-black when we arrived — the middle of the night — and the temperature was 112 degrees. Birds had fallen from the sky earlier in the day.

    Once I ran from our house in San Francisco to the start of the Napa Valley Marathon (100 miles in eighteen hours, straight through the night), arrived five minutes before the start, and ran the marathon (in 3:15).

    Somewhere along the line we seem to have confused comfort with happiness. I've now come to believe that quite the opposite is the case. Dostoyevsky had it right: "Suffering is the sole origin of consciousness." Never are my senses more engaged than when the pain sets in. There is magic in misery.

    Pulling an all-nighter had become routine for me. The first time I'd attempted to run all night, it was a battle to stay awake and coherent. Subsequent outings proved progressively less traumatizing. Now I was conditioned to the point where running straight through the night was standard operating procedure, and an experience I quite enjoyed, actually.

    What I now realize is that the way other people seek physical comfort and blissful well-being, I seek extremes. Why run 10 miles when you can run 100? Moderation bores me.

    There's really no mystery to what I do, however. It hurts me just as bad as anyone else. I've just learned an essential insight: you legs can only carry you so far. Running great distances is mostly done with your head and your heart.

    It would be a stretch to say I was experiencing a "runner's high," but it was a temporary absence of radiating pain, which, at this point, was about the best I could hope for.

The book costs $13.57 at amazon.

April 13, 2005 at 11:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Surfer designs from... Paloma Picasso?

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So it would seem: in yesterday's Wall Street Journal I espied an ad for her new Groove™ collection from Tiffany & Co.

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Sterling silver and rubber surfer bracelets and necklaces.

Frankly, I think serious surfers would giggle.

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These should find a comfortable niche draped over the necks and around the air-brushed tan ankles and wrists of those lounging in the lobbies of Ian Schrager's hotels.

April 13, 2005 at 10:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

'Bartleby, the Scrivener' – by Herman Melville

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This 1853 story by Herman Melville (above) is a great work of art.

Bartleby's five words of refusal, "I would prefer not to," remain the best way to reject a request.

They don't shove it back in the enquirer's face; nor do they seem rude or hostile.

Rather, they seem to focus the refuser's inner doubts and reticence in a way difficult to attack further.

Here, then, is a link to this superb story, with annotations by Ann Woodlief of Virginia Commonwealth University.

If you prefer, you can read it here without the hypertext.

To paraphrase what the Fram oil filter guy used to say in the great commercial, "You can read it now — or you can read it later."

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However — reading it would be the highest and best use possible of your morning — or any other waking moments — today.

April 13, 2005 at 09:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

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