Pirates!

Hey players.

Very rarely do I go out of my way to make a big deal about a video game. I don't have the time. I operate a household wherein half the residents can't utilize a toilet.

(For the record, I can.)

Nay, once that second kid flew out of my spouse, video games have sat on the back burner... idly biding their time for a milisecond of free time that may, per chance, spring up suddenly into my daily schedule. Not that I was ever the one that would devote hours on end to something like videogames, mind you - generally I could get away with playing for a couple hours on the weekend, if I was lucky.


Generally, I wasn't.

Lately, though, I've really started to miss videogames. Zoning out in front of the TV with a beer after work is, honestly, not too shabby at all... but it has to wait 'til 8:30/9pm-ish, once both tax deductions are fast asleep. Otherwise, I get stuck knocking back a cold one to Blue's Clues, Yo Gabba Gabba, or Bear in the Big Blue House.


That's not nearly as cool as it may sound.


So, lately, I've really begun to go out of my way to make time for myself. For videogames. If this sounds lame for a thirty-year old man to do... screw off. This has been accomplished through staying up later at night, and sleeping in until 5:40 instead of 5:15am. Sure, the window of time is minuscule at best - and sure, I end up going to work a zombie - but it's better than nothing.

Most recently, I've decided to do some serious soul-searching and rediscover my gaming roots. I've found that with online emulators - applications that allow you to play old-school video games on one's computer - I can now revisit my glorious past.

And when 'glorious past' is to be visited, only one word comes to mind: Pirates!


Yes, folks - Pirates! The single greatest game ever to grace the powerbox that was the Apple II GS.


I received this as a present when I was but a mere lad of eight or so, and ever since I've been obsessed with all things pirates (seriously - you should check out my Man-Room). This was the game that launched it all, and truly defined my outlook on life. A Sid Meier classic, an open-ended adventure that gave you the freedom to scour the Caribbean and carve out your own place in piratical history. Perfection ca. 1987.


I logged hours away in front of my dad's II GS (probably much to his dismay), and not a second of it was a waste.


I could go on and on and review the bejesus out of this epic masterpiece, but I figure if you're truly interested in learning more about this game, you can try it out for yourself here.



(you're welcome.)


Yaarrghh,

Capt. Brian J. Hough
Pirate Adventurer

For the Benefit of Mr. and Mrs. Maverick

Well, I was lucky enough to make it up to my little brother Jeff's wedding reception last weekend (sans wife and kids). Him and his wife, Annie, had gotten hitched back in December, at some Air Force chapel on his base, but had flown back into town in order to throw a reception and nab a ton of free stuff from their guests.

Smart move on their parts - speaking from experience.


Flying anymore these days is a complete disaster. You can't check anything anymore without being charged, you're given shit service, and security is a gauntlet. You know what I'm talkin' about. Fortunately, I lucked out this time around. Despite being stuck to a 400 lb. man wearing a Social Distortion shirt and iNerding on the iPad he probably copulates with, my flight up from Florida was fairly uneventful.


I spent most of the time plugged into an iPod. I'm also in the middle of reading The Histories of Ancient Rome: From the Earliest Times to 476 A.D. on my Kindle right now (which is awesome) - not necessarily a 'beach read,' but for those of you who are obsessed with all things Ancient Rome (*jerks thumbs at self*) its highly recommended - and got a solid chunk of it knocked out on the way up (and back).


Was totally not prepared for the icy, Hoth-chilling winter that awaited me in Michigan, though. Literally. I forgot to pack a winter coat, and stepped off the plane into the Midland/Saginaw International Airport wearing a thin hoodie and a stupid look on my face.

Hooray for me.

My rental was a Chevy Clowncar. Not sure the exact model name but who cares - it's not important. It was smaller than my car - which is saying something - and I drove it a total of 42 miles the entire time I was home (from the airport to my dad's, from my dad's back to the airport).

One of these days I'll spring for a fancier rental - I came close to getting an SUV, out of fear for the icy roads I wasn't accustomed to driving on - but for what I was getting it for this time around, the Clowncar worked well enough.


Everyone who was traveling in for Jeff and Annie's reception made it in to the house throughout the course of the evening.

Having skipped lunch, I reached the house famished. Fortunately, they had ordered Buccelli's, which is what God Himself would eat if He could eat pizza. Pairing this awesomeness with some microbrews brought in from Uncle Larry and Rowley, and it ended up being one, stupendous evening.


The next morning, Blake and Bradley had a wrestling match at the ol' alma mater (alma mater applies to high school too, right?), but Uncle Larry and I didn't get out the door early enough to make it (see: previous night). That ended up being a good thing, though - it turns out those two didn't end up wrestling for two hours after the rest of the family got there. Two hours sitting in the bleachers amidst a bunch of townies wasn't something I would've been pleased with... especially seeing how each of the boys' matches ended up lasting thirty seconds apiece. Not cool.

In the early afternoon, Larry, Rowley and myself decided it was time for a Field Trip. I, myself - as you all know - am a pipe-smoker, and the greatest pipe and tobacco store I've ever set foot in just so happens to be found in nearby Mt. Pleasant: The Smoker's Club.

Now, Rowley and Uncle Larry aren't pipe smokers (nobody's perfect), but they were interested in checking out cigars, so we all headed out to the 'Club, where I bought a new Danish Stanwell pipe and some stem cleaner. Afterwards, we had ourselves a cigar in the lounge... before the CMU Chapter of Douchebaggery (Collegiate Pipe Smokers of Central Michigan) showed up and starting with their club nonsense.

Don't ask me why young people have to form a club to mutually announce 'Look at me, I'm a pipe smoker!' I enjoy it, but I don't rub anyone's face in it - that's obnoxious.

Our last stop of the field trip was the Mt. Pleasant Brewery, where, after some pints of microbrew (I highly recommend the Train Wreck Ale), Rowley nabbed a six pack and we headed back to Clare. With only an hour or so before Jeff and Annie's reception kicked off, we quickly changed and set off for Midland and the Whiting Hall (whatever the hell that is).

The reception itself was simple, with catered or'derves (I don't know how the hell you spell that) and, alas, no booze*. We had to show up early for photographs, and, like an asshole, I was way underdressed. I had said in advance that I wasn't wearing a suit - I don't own one. So, in a sports coat, dress slacks, and my white Adidas, I was more or less showing up in what I always wear to work.

And I looked like an asshole:


That aside, Jeff and Annie's reception was a nice time - lots of folks I, personally, didn't know, but that's to be expected. Like I said before, they kept it small, and that was probably a stroke of genius on their part - by keeping their overhead costs at a minimum, they could just kick back and watch the wedding presents roll in. Here's a slide show of the event: Enjoy.

Totally wish we would've done that for our wedding.


...I could probably go into a lot more detail with all of this, but I feel that I've already typed up a shit-ton as it is. As such, I shall once again direct you to the following web page, where Dad has once again already done all the hard work for me and set up a photo gallery.

Check it out here.

- Brian

* for everyone except Yours Truly and Rowley.

Hot Date at the Science Center

So, Alayna and Derrick once again have found themselves together and having a blast. We all met up at the Orlando Science Center today and explored planes, trains, dinosaur bones and lots of other cool stuff. Not a lot to be put into words, so here are some pictures of our adventure with Alayna's Superman and his family.

-Kris

To Mr. Charles E. Cheese...

Dear Chuck,

(Can I call you Chuck?)

Hi. My name is Mr. Brian J. Hough. I'm 30, and I have two little girls who/whom I occasionally bring to your restaurant. I wanted to take the time today to tell you that I find both you and your establishment to be a steaming, pile of crap.

Sweet Baby Jesus, do I loathe you. You are the product of early-90s 'kids think this is cool!' - a panel of marketers who were hoping to tap into the 'hip' kid demographic.

Did you ever see that episode of The Simpsons? The one with Poochie? You're like Poochie, Chuck.

Let me explain. Now, I get the perma-grin/glazed-over expression you constantly sport, I do. I have kids, and I know what they do to one's soul. You're a happy-go-lucky mouse, you're constantly having to put on a happy face being around kids - even if you feel like punching the nearest toddler square in the face. It's tough, man - I know.

...but the knee pads and helmet? No, sir - you work indoors. You look like an idiot. If you rollerblade, Chuck, that's fine... I guess (you might be a little old for it, Chuck... its 2010 and nobody really does that anymore except for 8 year old girls at skating rinks).

Damn it, Chuck - you're not rollerblading while you're entertaining. I've been to your restaurant a ton of times, and every time I see you you're either eating pizza, hugging kids, or doing both simultaneously. Do you really need knee pads for that?

There's no plausible scenario I can think of that would warrant you wearing a helmet indoors (none that makes sense anyway). If you were a real-life-sized mouse - or even a four-foot tall mouse - I might be able to see it; little kids doped up on sugar, pizza, and over-stimulation might accidentally plow you over. I'd wear a helmet in that situation, for sure.

You're nine feet tall. Nobody's knocking you down, Chuck. Take off the damn skate gear already.


You know, I think, deep, deep-down, you harbor strong insecurities regarding your own shortcomings. Three, simple words lead me to this conclusion: Showbiz. Pizza. Place.


Comparing yourself with the collective genius you strong-armed out of the pizza/arcade/stage-show industry can't be an easy or pleasant thing to deal with. If I were you, Chuck, I'd probably want to wear protective clothing myself. To hide my shame, and to protect my 'nads.

More than once I've contemplated strolling up to you and punching you right in the face for this.

You sent a great vaudeville ventriloquist, a good ol' boy (er, bear), and the greatest, hard-rockin' band this side of Electric Mayhem straight to the nearest homeless shelter:


That's right, the Rock-afire Explosion.

They were awesome, and now they're probably alcoholics. I'm pretty sure that gorilla that played keyboards for the 'Explosion is a full-blown meth-head now, and I won't even begin to go into what the cheerleader mouse is doing for money these days.

You ruined lives, Chuck - lots of lives.


I'll never forget the first time I walked into a Showbiz Pizza Place with my family, expecting an awesome time, only to see - with no small degree of horror - some lame-looking, rollerblading mouse wearing purple and a shit-grin.

For shame, Chuck. For shame.

I think you owe the world apology. Seriously. I think you owe every child born after 1985 your sincere condolences and reparations for what you've done. You denied generations of children a life-changing experience, and that's something they can never get back.



Sure, my kids love your restaurant, but they're also really, really dumb. I mean, collectively, my two kids might be able to match wits with a Golden Retriever (not that one from the Air Bud straight-to-video franchise - he seems like he's got his shit together). I've attached, for your viewing pleasure, some videos that show just how much my kids seem to 'enjoy' your sham pizzeria.


I want you to watch their innocent faces and contemplate just how much you've screwed with their intellectual development by denying them the righteous jam-masters you forced out of the industry.


In closing, I just want to say once again just how deeply, deeply disgusted I am with you. You suck, and your beer is nowhere near as cheap as it should be.

Every dad that enters your restaurant requires more than a few drafts to stomach the pure crap you're spewing at their children - lower the prices already.

...and take off the damn knee pads. You look like an idiot.


Disgusted and disgruntled,

Mr. Brian J. Hough
Rockafire Explosion Fan for Life

New Beginnings

So, back in November, I lost my job. I decided to wait until now to disclose this information, because I really didn't need anyone taking pity on me. The truth is they did me a favor. No details are really necessary, I'm pretty sure they just needed to make some cuts considering I wasn't the only one let go that day and they had recently been slashing at everyone's hours. Their loss. The only thing I regret is that my children equally were tossed out and are now missing out the socialization I believe is crucial, even at a young age. Alayna especially loved going to school and thrived on learning during circle times and playing with her friends. Regardless, being home with them has been the best job ever and I think a great chance for them to bond with one another. Hence, they did me a favor.





Thus far, I find myself much less stressed and more motivated to take care of my own things. To think we actually live in a clean house now. Imagine that. I've been working hard at getting the girls out to the library's weekly toddler time and story time. We've met up with her old friends for play dates. Not to mention attending church more frequently. Alayna's need for socialization seems to be good for my soul. I still try to give her some daily "school-type" lessons. We go over letters and numbers and she's doing well. And we try to keep up on the art projects. But, it still doesn't satisfy me.


Now that the holidays are over, we've decided to put Alayna back into school part time. It's really all we can afford and I think full time is a bit much with me being home. Not to mention, it would be incredibly boring for Abby to be home alone that much. So, for 2 days a week, 4 hours at time, Alayna now goes to Star Child Academy (Primrose's enemy). Yes, this is the place that, as of late, has taken all our old stomping ground's enrollment. I love it!

As I knew she would, Alayna took to it like she'd been going there her whole life. She's such a social butterfly. And I can even watch her online, as well as, allow the grandparents onto the school's system. Quite the perk!

So, there you have it. A great start to a new year. A new job for me, a new school for Alayna, and Abby is growing and moving like crazy.

-Kris

The Houghs vs. I-75, Pt. II

Hi gang.


You know, I was going to write an entire entry about our epic return to Florida, down I-75... but I'm feeling really, really lazy today.


Instead, I'll briefly sum up the highlights for you. Let's save some time, folks:


1. We set out from Clare in the morning with way more shit than we had traveled north with.


2. Ohio did not want us to leave, and threw numerous traffic jams to keep us in its crappiness.



3. The Houghs manage to reach a Super 8 Motel in Tennessee in the evening and endure a horrible night with the kids (we failed to pick up milk for Alayna, and therefore had to suffer through a handful of 2 - 4am toddler tantrums...)



4. At a Chic' Fil-A (however the hell you spell that) in northern Georgia, Abby projectile-vomited all over herself, the car seat, several restaurant chairs, the floor and yours truly. On the plus side, the food was pretty good.


5. Finding Nemo was viewed back-to-back a half-dozen times, at the very least.


6. We ran out of stand-up comics to listen to on the way back, and were forced to listen to Dane Cook for a few hours. He's just as terrible as everybody says he is.


7. We arrived back home at 10:30pm. Our house was still standing, nothing was damaged or stolen, and moles had completely turned our front lawn into Verdun.


Anyway, after a night or two of relaxing, we had ourselves a very, very lame New Year's Eve countdown (Kris and I stayed up watching a movie, then switched over to ABC for the Dick Clark Mega-Stroke Rockin' New Year's Eve for the last ten minutes of 2010).

By the way, I don't know who said substituting weird eye make-up and an obnoxious wardrobe for genuine, musical talent was perfectly acceptable, but that Ke$ha chick needs to be pushed out to see and left to die. My God, she's horrendous...


In better news, we managed to obtain a brief - but radical - three-hour engagement with Lt. and Mrs. Foltz recently.

Yes, they're still alive. In Rwanda.

They were in town for the big MSU game (which didn't turn out so hot for them, unfortunately), having taken some time off from their current adventures in Africa. The Houghs don't generally get to associate with fellow Peace Corps Volunteers (traveling with kids = : ( ) so the opportunity to do so is always welcome. This time around, we got to hang out with kids instead of Gulders, so it wasn't quite as cool, but we had a good time nonetheless.

To sum up our visit: they lead waaay more interesting lives than we do.


Speaking of boring lives, I went back to work on Monday. Hooray for me. My students were just as anxious to get back to their studies as you can imagine. If there's anything that kids love more than school, I sure as hell don't know what it is.

Having taken two and a half weeks off from class, they probably weren't in the best of shape to tackle a long-winded PowerPoint lecture on the American Revolutionary War in Mr. Hough's class.

Oh well... at least there wasn't any bloodshed to be had. So we had that going for us.

Huzzah.


Speaking of going back to school, Alayna started at her new school this week, too - Star Child Academy. It's a direct competitor of her old digs, Primrose Schools, but it seems to be more focused on curriculum and education than songs and playtime. This is reflected in Alayna's ability to greet her parents in Hindi (Hindi?!) and Spanish (okay, that's understandable), and the fact that she can identify numbers and letters more readily now. I'm a big fan of that. I also like the fact that they have cameras installed that stream footage of your child's classroom so you can watch what they're up to via cyberspace whenever you want.

If only they had that in my classroom...

So, things are slowly turning back to normal around here. The girls are adjusting to their old schedules, and me and the ol' ball n' chain are readjusting to waking up early and having to wrangle our kids without grandparent assistance.

The weather down here, however, took little time to adjust to. Not a lot of snow to be had around these parts.


Ohio Sucks,

- Brian