George Hess

Parent/Child Lectures of the Future Part 3

Sun, 19 Feb 2012 19:28:00 -0800

Grandfather: Are you STILL logged-on to that thing?
Grandchild: Grandpa nobody says "logged-on" anymore.
Grandfather: Back in my day you use to have to pay by the kilobyte to be logged on with those smart phones.
Grandchild: Grandpa nobody calls them "smart phones" anymore. They're just regular phones.
Grandfather: Well whatever, if you had to live just one day of my life when I was your age, you wouldn't take for granted that 3Z connection.
Grandchild: Just go back to reading your iPad Grandpa.

Parent/Child Lectures of the Future Part 2

Sun, 19 Feb 2012 19:24:00 -0800

Son: Dad, when you were young, did you every try Napster?
Father: Well… to be honest with you son, yes. But it was new and there really weren't any laws against it yet. Also, no one knew about all of the side effects and viruses that it caused.
Son: Did you ever hack?
Father: Heh, can you keep a secret? I once hacked into the local library's email. I sent out a fake message from their account to their ENTIRE email list!
Son: You did! What did it say?
Father: Ehemm, uh, nothing, forget about it.
Son: That's awesome! Can you teach me?
Father: No! It was stupid and reckless and I never should have done it!

Parent/Child Lectures of the Future Part 1

Sun, 19 Feb 2012 19:15:00 -0800

Daughter: I can't believe you! You're such a hypocrite!
Father: Sweetheart, calm down. I'm just trying to protect you.
Daughter: But YOU were in chat rooms when YOU were my age.
Father: It was a different time. Everyone was doing it. Now they're just full of creeps.
Daughter: When was the last time you logged into one, huh?
Father: Well, it's been a long time.
Daughter: Seeeee, you don't even know what it's like!
Father: I know enough to know that I don't want my teenage daughter getting chatted up by some creepy 40 year old stalker posing as a Justin Bieber look-a-like!
Daughter: If you took any time to meet my online friends you'd know that's not what they're like. And who's Just Bieber anyway?

The cold hard truth.

Wed, 08 Feb 2012 21:15:06 -0800

The cold hard truth.

OK, OK Go has done it again. Truely original.

Wed, 08 Feb 2012 21:14:00 -0800

OK, OK Go has done it again. Truely original.

"Norris - Van Damme 2012"

Sat, 04 Feb 2012 01:52:00 -0800

“Norris - Van Damme 2012”

- @georgehess via twitter

"15yrs ago if you were tethered to an electronic device & did things like, post notes to a giant..."

Fri, 30 Sep 2011 11:19:00 -0700

“15yrs ago if you were tethered to an electronic device & did things like, post notes to a giant message board - they called you nerd. Today?”

- @georgehess via twitter

Barista: Southern California eh?

Sun, 25 Sep 2011 09:24:00 -0700

Barista: Southern California eh?
Me: huh?
Barista: Your t-shirt. You a surfer?
Me: Oh, no I just shop at Old Navy.

How I met your driver

Mon, 05 Sep 2011 11:55:00 -0700

A long time ago I attended an evening course covering Mass Communications. Yawn right? I know. What I discovered was that some of life’s greatest leassons were not waiting for me inside a classroom… but from behind the wheel of a gently used 1993 Ford Escort.

After one of the sessions had ended, I grabbed my books and began that old familiar walk towards the parking lot. This time a girl joined me.

“Look! Our cars are almost the same,” she exclaimed upon arriving to a semi–vacant lot.

Sure enough they were both Fords, similar in size, color and year. Mine was a ’91 Escort.

“Yeah, but is yours a Tempo?” I challenged.

“No way man. It’s an Escort!”

Now, it would be an exaggeration to say that I instantly fell head over heals in love with her. But at that moment I knew one thing for sure; I would never meet another girl like this again. If I got to know her my life would forever change for the better. What I still don’t know is why that statement meant so much? Maybe it was the pride she took in defending her vehicle. Perhaps it was the not–so–subtle implication that Tempos were lame and Escorts were 10x cooler. Either way I was smitten.

“Haha, okay then you’re right. They really are almost the same.”

By the time Summer rolled around we were the best of friends and drove her car everywhere. As we crested a small bridge that spanned the Skagit River, I, riding shotgun, confessed something to her.

“I think I’d be pretty jealous if you had a boyfriend.”

Don’t–crash–the–car–don’t–crash–the–car, was all she could think as her mind raced as fast as her heart.

“I think I’d be pretty jealous if you had a girlfriend.”

Two more summers and we were married. Both cars under one insurance policy. Life was great! And then we hit a speed bump. No literally, we drove over a speed bump and something in her car snapped. It started to make a loud screeching sound. The poor car was screaming! It was late and we only had a little ways to go. So, my newly acquired wife soothingly patted the dashboard as we continued through the parking lot, repeatedly apologizing to the car and any neighbors stirred awake by our awfully loud, late night arrival home.

A few weeks later, I found myself imagining how ashamed my father would be to see me sitting here staring blankly into the black abyss of the braking mechanism.

“Please Lord, don’t let me be one of those husbands that can’t ﬁx anything,” I pleaded with my other Father.

Just as I was about to deem myself unﬁt for husbandry, I saw it – a paperclip, a broken paperclip to be exact. Since I was pretty sure ofﬁce supplies and auto parts were never interchangeable, I went on to restore our vehicle to its proper working condition.

“I ﬁxed it? I ﬁxed it! Holy crap, I ﬁxed it!”

I diluted my excitement and when my wife returned home, I nonchalantly mentioned that I had ﬁxed the car. She wrapped her arms around me and said she was so happy to have married such a handyman. Had we been on a movie set you would have seen the car and me exchange a wink. Ironically, this would not be the only speed bump to debilitate our vehicle.

Not long after my triumph over the brakes, my wife tried to open the passenger side door and heard yet another snap. We soon found that she was unable to exit, for the inside handle no longer engaged the door latch. Luckily, the outside handle still worked. As you can imagine, I quickly got into the habit of opening the door to let her out. I’d like to think that I would have started doing this for her no matter what – but necessity is the mother of invention… or in this case, her younger child, motivation. And would you believe it? This small inconvenience began to restore hope to all of humanity.

“I think it’s just great to see a husband continue to woo his wife and treat her with such respect,” one complete stranger said as she approached us in the grocery store parking lot.

My wife, God bless her, didn’t blow my cover and played along. “He’s a reeeeal keeper!”

Another women stopped mid–conversation with her daughter outside of Value Village. “What’s the matter mom? Can’t ﬁnd your keys?”

“No, I um, just uh, can’t believe there are still gentlemen left,” she loudly whispered back.

It went on like this for years. But if you thought opening the door for your wife would turn heads, you ain’t seen nothing until your wife opens the door for you! I got so many dirty looks. With the elderly it was always the same. They’d do the what–has–this–world–come–to eyebrow thing. I almost thought about keeping a pair of crutches in the car but ﬁgured I would be cursed with whatever disability I faked. It didn’t take long for my wife to master the inconspicuous drive–by unlatching.

With gas prices at an all time high and my paycheck at an all time low we were down to one vehicle. The ‘91 had gone to live with my parents and my wife’s car, affectionately named “Ninety–Three”, became our primary mode of transportation. With no money, no hub caps, only one (on a good day 2) working speakers, going–to–break–any–minute–now electric windows, faulty dash lights, worn out struts, bald tires, and let’s not forget about the door latch, all this and more; Ninety–Three had to endure a real beating. Inexplicably, the engine would turn over every time we turned the key. I kept telling my wife that one day the car wasn’t going to start and then we’d really have a problem. She would faithfully disagree and back up her arguments with a simple statement, “I know this car.” And she really did. It had been her parents’ car, her first car, and now our only car.

• • •

“Yeaaaah, I’m not so sure about this.” The three SUVs in the ditch had shaken my confidence.

“Trust me. It does good in the snow. I know this car.” However, the gigantic ice covered hill looked a formidable foe. “I’ll pray while you drive.” Her tone now gave way to the tiniest shred of doubt. “Please Jesus, please, please get us home safely.” Half way up we started fishtailing. “Uh–ooooh… PleaseLordPleaseLordPleaseLordPleaseLord,” became her mantra.

It felt like we were in an uphill hockey match between angels and demons. Passed from one invisible player to the next. Left to right but always forward, Ninety–Three kept chugging towards the goal! Helpless to the forces of good vs evil, we cheered her onward.

“C’moooon Ford, C’moooon Ford!” (we probably should’ve thrown in a C’mooon Lord too, but we were all on the same team).

It’s all fun and games until someone winds up in a ditch, and we were headed for such a ditch. But in the last minute, Mighty Ducks’ style, good triumphed over evil and our car miraculously skated to the top of the hill. My wife, unable to contain her exitement, let out a joyful shout and clapped her hands. We slid right into our driveway and vowed never to attempt that hill in the snow again. A vow we sheepishly broke every winter following. Ninety–Three never let us crash though and started up every morning. My wife was right; I was a believer.

The seasons kept changing and our lives began to level out a bit. Money wasn’t as tight as it once was and even though the car was getting older, we would replace parts as needed. Another speed bump took out our water pump. But a water pump was still cheaper than a new car. Our head gasket blew. But replacing a head gasket was still barely cheaper than a new car. People would ask why we didn’t just buy something else, something newer. My wife would usually reply with a fiscally responsible reason. In truth, it was because that car had invested in our lives and we couldn’t just discard it.

One afternoon, on no particular day, our car quietly broke down for good. With nothing left to teach us, Ninety–Three was able to die in peace. We had come so far and learned so much. It’s amazing how an inanimate object can posses such a personality. This car had been the wings of freedom to a naive 18 year old girl. It safely transported her over thousands of miles into a whole new life and was her constant companion years before I ever met her. It was one thing we shared in common, which led to sharing everything, including a life together. It was like a safety bubble that gave us confidence we didn’t know we had. Its reliability increased our faith. Even its malfunctioning parts gave way to good habits. We sang loudly, laughed a ton, cried a lot, and boy did we ever argue in that car.

My wife’s eyes welled up as the memories came flooding back. Her voice quivered a little, “I might cry. I know it’s silly but this car has been with me for so long.”

“Kelley, it’s not silly. This is just the end of one chapter you began. We get to start a brand new one, together,” I comforted her.

My Dad drove up to meet us in my old car, Ninety–One. They no longer needed it and we surely did. Ironically, he pulled in just as the tow truck pulled out. He tossed me the keys.

“How’s it running?” I asked as I watched Kelley watch the tow truck disappear with Ninety–Three. I found it hard to believe that we would ever learn as much from another car again.

“Like a champ! Drove the whole way without a problem,” he said. “Just one thing, the driver’s side door latch is starting to go…”

Super Pho and Teriyaki II: Double Feature Matinee!!!

Wed, 29 Jun 2011 18:47:00 -0700

Super Pho and Teriyaki II: Double Feature Matinee!!!

RoadPony

Mon, 27 Jun 2011 19:55:00 -0700

Save the planet and your money - find and share rides with people traveling the same places you are!

RoadPony was conceptualized the day my brother couldn’t find a ride to the airport. He often needs rides and I often make websites… the rest is history.

Project Details

UI / UX
HTML5 / CSS3
Facebook Integration
Google Maps Integration

"You BOIL ribs?!"

Tue, 24 May 2011 22:54:00 -0700

“You BOIL ribs?!”

- My dentist (speaking to the hygienist while filling my cavity)

Swirly Squirrely

Sun, 22 May 2011 16:16:00 -0700

These events took place between 7:00 and 7:30 AM, July 15^th 2009, at the private residence of George and Kelley Hess in Bellingham, WA. Stories of what happened that morning have been told by many. This is the true account.

We began our Wednesday much like any other, running late. I could tell that I wasn’t going to make the bus. And since I was already going to miss it, I poured myself another glass of orange juice.

My wife screamed.

“Must be a spider in the bathroom”, I thought to myself. I kept pouring.

My wife screamed again, a bit higher this time. ”Uh-oh, the toilet might be overflowing.” I put the OJ down.

Again my wife screamed higher. ”Oh crap! There’s a serial killer in there!”

I prepared myself for the worst and charged towards the bathroom just as she burst out and slammed the door. Relieved not to find any blood stains, and yet slightly annoyed, I thought about lecturing her on abusing the serial-killer-octave-scream. Then she began.

“THERE IS A…” my inner dialog finished the sentence for her. Its version had something to do with a big spider. She informed me otherwise, ”…SQUIRREL IN OUR TOLIET!”

“WHAT?”

“YES!”

“SQUIRREL?”

“YES!”

“IN TOLIET?”

“YES! I flushed and a SQUIRREL CAME OUT!!!”

We had to think quickly and got the idea to open the bathroom window (from the outside) so as to encourage him to scurry back into the great outdoors. When I opened the front door I was greeted by another one of our forestry friends - a buck. He was standing on the doormat with his head slightly lowered and tilted toward the house. He was eavesdropping! What, were we on the set of Rocky and Bullwinkle? I half expected him to pipe up and say,

“Uh… you haven’t seen a squirrel around here have you?”

My patience for nature was quickly reaching its limits and I yelled at the buck to getouttahere. He stalked away and I popped the screen off of the bathroom window. But the little guy was stuck in the bowl because he couldn’t get around the lip of the toilet seat, (men, this is probably the manliest reason you’ll ever be given for putting the toilet seat down - it’s good for trapping small game). I knew I had to go in and rescue him.

There was just one problem. What kind of squirrel winds up in your toilet anyway? The crazy rabies kind. I kept picturing the squirrel, flying out of the toilet and with a banshee like shriek, latching onto my face. But time was of the essence and in a mere two minutes my wife had me suited up in our most rabid-proof clothing: denim, a hoodie, and two layers of gloves (wool on the outside, rubber on the inside). With my hood synched tightly I entered into the lion’s den.

At this point, the squirrel was exhausted and laying half in the water and half along the “shore”. I tried to gingerly pick him up but that prompted him to attempt one last escape. This time his route took him underwater and back down the drain.

“Oh no you don’t!” I said as I grabbed him by the tail. After a minor scuffle I found myself outside and standing over a waterlogged squirrel. He wasn’t moving. Now I’m not sure if it was my Disney saturated childhood or just plain old compassion for all creatures smaller than myself, but something compelled me to revitalize him. I took my thumbs and began CPR. When a few squirrel-sized gulps of water came out of his mouth I looked up and saw my wife cheering from the window. When I looked back down however, he still wasn’t moving.

“Maybe he needs mouth to mouth?” I thought to myself. Self, not being quite as sympathetic as I, quickly shot that one down. “He’s dead you idiot. Burry the poor beast!”

The funeral procession consisted of a short walk down the side of the house and dumping his plastic bag of a coffin into the garbage can. It hardly seemed adequate given this morning’s events. I came back inside and discarded my gloves. As I raised a hard earned glass of orange juice to my lips, I knew one thing for sure; this squirrel would not soon be forgotten.

Top 10 Homeofficitis Symptoms

Tue, 17 May 2011 09:34:00 -0700

The following are the top ten symptoms found in most patients suffering from Homeofficitis.

You call it a 9-5 job but more often than not, mean: 9AM-5PM-9PM-5AM
You regularly shower on your lunch break.
The nearest you’ve been to sexual harassment in the workplace is your SPAM folder.
You consistently overuse emoticons in a desperate attempt to recreate face-to-face communication.
“Business casual” means no pants.
Every time the UPS driver catches you still wearing pajamas, you swear it will be the last time.
You have an arsenal of excuses for why a dog and/or small child would be barking in the background during your phone conference.
Workplace violence = Judge Judy and Jerry Springer.
You order the cheapest drink possible so as to not feel bad for using a café’s wifi… and then shamelessly stay for 8+ hours.
Your conference room has a toilet in it.

The Starbucks Black & Tan: Iced coffee for strength, iced...

Fri, 22 Apr 2011 15:03:00 -0700

The Starbucks Black & Tan: Iced coffee for strength, iced water for hydration.

"I read the newspaper because there’s something nostalgic about doing things inefficiently."

Thu, 24 Mar 2011 09:43:00 -0700

“I read the newspaper because there’s something nostalgic about doing things inefficiently.”

- @georgehess via twitter

Big Oak

Mon, 28 Feb 2011 12:27:00 -0800

George Hess <3’s non–profits. Plain and simple, Big Oak is changing lives and I’m always happy to join in on doing some of the good work! Their site was ready for a facelift, so out came the scalpels and bone saws and we put together a nice little WordPress site in a matter of days. It’s going live this week.

Project Details

HTML5 / CSS Layout
WordPress Integration

Design Evolution

Wed, 26 Jan 2011 12:05:23 -0800

Design Evolution:

I went through nine comps before settling on a final design for my website. These mock-ups span over a period of 4 years, not because I spent an exceptional amount of time on each of them… but because I could rarely justify working on my own personal projects.

It can be fun (and frightening) to watch how a design and a designer evolve over time.

Introducing Covelopers!

Tue, 18 Jan 2011 15:35:00 -0800

Covelopers enables independent designers, web developers, and techs to operate like larger businesses by networking them together to collaboratively tackle projects. That’s a lot to try and fit into a single logo – but we managed to meet all of the criteria: High–end, Teamwork, Growth, and Momentum.

Project Details

Branding
Design
Digital Strategy

Atomic Mobile

Tue, 11 Jan 2011 16:00:00 -0800

Atomic Mobile provides businesses and agencies with mobile technology based solutions. So naturally, they’d better have a snappy mobile website right? Well you guessed it… that’s what we’re working on!

Project Details:

UI/UX Design
Mobile Design & Development