Patrick Smith writes an excellent piece in the NY Times about the state of airport security. You might remember Patrick has a column in Salon called "Ask The Pilot" and a book by the same name.

If you're a nervous flier I can't recommend his book enough. Ever since I read it flights have been much more enjoyable and easy to get through.

Security not so much.

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A Flickr photo-set of Wright's Hollyhock House. found on H+H.

The town I grew up in has a mortuary designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. It's very beautiful inside and inconspicuous from the outside. I have to remember to take photos of it someday—though every time I'm there it's not a very good time for snapping photos.

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Google Reader's new friendz feature is the worst thing that has ever happened to me in my life! I think it's worth pointing out that when we don't like software, people can turn around a fix quickly. I think Paul's take was best: had Google made it work correctly from the start or soon after launch, people wouldn't have adapted to the broken-ness of the software.

I just like noting things like this to file away in my own development experience. Of course I'm joking about it ruining my life, but I did hide all my friendz; if I want to know what they're sharing I'll read their weblog.

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I'm signing up for Catalog Choice, I'll let you know how it goes. The site helps you opt-out of receiving paper catalogs by mailing the companies requests to remove you from their rolls. found on the unstoppable links.

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Here's John and Robert Scoble talking about John's predictions, Federated Media, the biz, and our crappy mobile reception here in Sausalito.

There is not usually four bottles of wine on John's desk.

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I'm back from my wedding and honeymoon. Everything went perfect. PERFECT. It was the best time of my entire life and I got to spend it with some of our best friends and closest family members. Having them in one room was the most exhilarating and moving experience I've ever had.

I can't yet put Fiji into words. Every day was an adventure, and I still have the bruises, scars, and tan to prove it. You really should go. (For the curious we were at Trip Advisor's #1 Best Luxury Hotel in the South Pacific. Maravu Plantation and Beach Resort deserves every good thing said there.)

I tried catching up with my weblogs today but I was just too busy at work. I can inbox zero in my sleep, but news reader zero? I need help.

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It's only Thursday and I already have my weekend project laid out for me. I've been toying with Erlang for a while, dropping it for a month or so only to pick it up again. I haven't written anything of any size, but now that the wedding is over I'm going to dive back and and build a little test app, possibly deployed on EC2.

Here's an interesting post about Amazon's SimpleDB internals. Yep: it's Erlang.

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This is likely old news to you, but Gordon showed me this today and I cannot stop watching it. It's Colin's Bear Animation and it kills me every time.

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I'm just hanging out in the hotel room listening to my parents:

Mom: Oh, I just realized the reindeer is named Blitzen.
Dad: Wait, then what is his name?
Mom: Blitzer.
Dad: Huh.

I talked to Amber a bit, just lots of happy words and excitement. I realize now I should have practiced combing my hair a little nicer than normal. I have been cursed with awful hair all my life: first cowlicks, then going gray, and finally just falling out like some troubled teens fleeing a busted up house party.

While my dad cut my hair we calculated he's cut it 300 times. That's 75 hair cuts for every joke he knows.

I'm going to get dressed now. Still not nervous, just excited and very happy.

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I'm kind of beat tonight. We did a lot of running around today ending up in Pasadena for the wedding tomorrow. Our rehearsal was pretty simple and the dinner was very good. I've been really tired from sleeping on a futon the past couple of nights so I'm looking forward to getting a good night's sleep.

Amber has been a force this past week. She's been in complete command of the schedule, completely together, always on time, and operating at a frequency I had not seen before. I get the feeling all this wedding stuff is really just a trial by fire invented to expose all the nerves to see what we're both really made of.

I have never admired Amber more than this moment right now.

Everyone keeps asking me if I'm nervous. I'm not. My only anxiety comes from hoping our guests enjoy themselves and people don't leave too early. Everyone tells me the night will go by so fast and I hope it doesn't.

My parents are in the other room of their suite. I'm staying with them since they rented such a big place and my dad is going to cut my hair in the morning. We're separated by a very thin door so I can hear my dad getting his nightly dose of The O'Reilly Factor and I can feel my mom silently cheering for Obama every time his name is mentioned.

Completely true: Earlier tonight I had pointed out to them my wedding ring doesn't fit, my fingers have gotten too fat since I was sized. My mom just whispered to my dad, "I could tell he (me) gained weight." I yelled out, "I can hear you!" and she snapped back, "I thought you said you were wearing earplugs!" and I said, "Only when I sleep!" and then I swear she whispered softer to him, "I could tell."

I'm editing this thing too much. I should just go to sleep. I don't think I'm going to be able to write again soon, so I saved the details of our wedding to post after the wedding. I'm a very happy guy right now.

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While Amber is out getting her hair cut, nails done, things waxed, exercising, and eating right, I've got my own regimen this week: not shaving. You see, I'm a shavetimer (word credit to Matthew Baldwin) and it's been something I've had to deal with all my adult life. Well, age 22 on, before that the hair grew so slowly and weakly that if I didn't shave I think the hair would get tired of hanging around and just fall out.

You see, it's so thin and spotty if there were a council on beards I would fail in the coverage test. Sent home before the sponginess and food adherence tests. I can see those jerky beard judges now, laughing underneath those curly Grecian beards.

Because of this, if I have an important meeting or just want to look normal on Monday mornings, I have to time my shaves so the hair is long enough to actually shave on the morning of my important thing. When it's still too short I'm just scrapping at my face with a really sharp blade. Only when it's of some length can I get a good, close shave.

The problem with this is I'm usually walking around with a weird pre-beard. If I come to meet you for something and my face has more than a little stubble on it, be assured I have something much more important than you coming up. I don't waste a shave for just anybody.

To have a good shave on our wedding day (Saturday) I went for broke and shaved this past Monday. This is a very lengthy amount of time but I wanted to have a really good shave. Three days is usually enough, so as you can probably guess my face is starting to look like I actually want a beard. Which is precisely what's so depressing about this stupid thing: I can't have a beard. I'll never be able to have a beard, yet everyone I come in contact with probably thinks I'm starting one up.

Other than the beard thing, I kind of fattened myself up this winter. I was 155 before Thanksgiving, and now I am...not 155. I've been trying this diet out called eat-all-you-want-to-deal-with-the-stress-of-paying-someone-a-thousand-dollars-to-make-a-music-playlist-and-then-hit-play. Don't even get me started on the paradox of eating to deal with the stress of paying someone to cook 50 meals. Yeah, I'm fat.

I just weighed myself on a digital scale. I say "digital" because before when it was all springs and counter-weights you could laugh it off with, "Oh things weigh more near the equator at sea level when it's cold!" or "it says 'not for legal trade', it's just an approximation!" or "they could have put the decal on crooked!" But being an engineer, when digital tells you your fat ass weighs 164, you know there's some memory chip charged to hold exactly "10100100".

Now I'm wondering how much this beard weighs.

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I decided to turn this weblog into journal-mode because I don't have enough time to keep up to date in my newsreader, and someday I'll want to look back on this week and see what I was thinking.

For the first time ever Team Costley/Torrez were ready to head off to the airport at the exact time they had previously agreed on. This was an auspicious way to start the wedding week. There were smiles all around until...

The TSA agents notified us we had been pre-selected to be rigorously searched. We decided this was because we arrived too damn early and they realized they could do their song-and-dance because we weren't boarding for over an hour. It seemed like it would be simple and quick, until we saw the folks ahead of us with scowls on their faces. Soon enough I would have such a scowl.

They were thorough. The most thorough and meticulous searching I've ever seen (and I traveled a couple weeks after 9/11). It turns out my iPhone is apparently made of bomb-like material because it made the bomb alarm machine go "blee-bloo" when everything else made it go "ding-dong". So I was pulled aside for super-rigorous-searching which involves the TSA agent filling out a form that had: "Bomb Detection Alert Event" written at the top of it. My favorite part of the interview was that she asked me if the address on my license was indeed my current address THREE TIMES in a row. By the third time I decided this was their super-secret terrorist discovery method akin to Blade Runner's turtle on its back question. Only a terrorist would say, "You know what? You got me, that's not my current address. My current address is 123 FALLUJAH STREET!"

When she was done she called over her supervisor who looked over the form and then pointed at the top and asked, "Is this your current address?"

If this was a summer movie the TSA agents are now hanging out in our apartment inviting their other TSA friends over with the knowledge we won't be back to that address for a week or so. (Did you know they made FOUR "House Party" films?)

The only thing that was of interest on the flight is that I watched a lot of drift racing and I convinced myself I could probably do it. I think I'd be pretty good, not too cocky, just really focused yet friendly. I really hope there's a good drift video game for the XBox.

Now I'm sitting in the guest room in my old house in Long Beach. Amber is on her way back from an appointment and we're going to hit the Crab Pot, a restaurant where they dump a huge bowl of seafood (crab, shrimp, clams, mussles, corn on the cob and sausages) on your table and let you pick through it. Whenever I eat there I like to pretend I'm a giant and the townspeople have brought me a pile of animals to eat.

The cats who live here are pretty spooked as there usually isn't someone walking around the house in the afternoon. Two of them are on a ledge above the kitchen cupboards and they stare at me like I've completely ruined their day of sleeping and eating and sleeping. Each time I walk by them stare back and shout, "Is this your current address?!"

They don't like that very much.

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Untraceable might be the worst tech movie ever made, but the trailer is fucking hilarious. Not as good as Blow'd Up, but damn close. found on plastic bag.

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