Today started a little later than I really would have preferred, but after getting up early for two days I was inclined to sleep in at least a little.
Once I was up I had to get on a conference call for work. After that was over I took a shower and waited for my mother to call.
In the course of talking to my mother it became clear that I should not put off purchasing my plane tickets for my trip home in May for Jourdan’s graduation. I had neglected to consider the fact that because I’ll be flying around Memorial Day there will be considerable traffic, thus ensuring that the cost of tickets would continue to rise.
Finishing that, I looked at my finances and grimaced.
It became clear that the short-term financial goals I had are not going to be met. Not within the timeframe I had set, at any rate.
This doesn’t entail any sort of hardship, it simply means that my goal of maintaining a savings balance of X while simultaneously making purchases totaling Y just isn’t going to happen, as it seems that I can do one but not the other.
What that really means for my plans is yet to be determined. At the current rate, it’s looking as though I could create a savings balance of roughly X+Y(1/2) if I avoid making any purchases.
Alternatively, if I wanted to just drain my savings, I could make some substantial purchases totaling X+Y(1/2).
In general, I’m actually leaning toward the former (despite how tempting the latter is). I think, though, that I might end up finding some sort of compromise position.
We’ll see, I guess.
After I finished with the financial update I got back to work on writing something for work, which was so boring that I was almost relieved when it came time to leave for my dentist appointment.
Almost.
Once I got there I became more than a little annoyed, as I essentially had to have work that I’d already paid for more than a year ago done all over again.
A while back one of my crowns came loose. Today the dentist determined that he couldn’t just put the crown back in; I had to get an entirely new one.
Even better, my insurance will not pay for the same work to be done over again unless five years have passed.
This meant paying for a new crown entirely out of my own pocket.
Fortunately, as he should have, since it was his shoddy workmanship that came flying loose in the first place, he agreed to call the costs of whatever my insurance didn’t pay a loss and not charge me for the crown.
Still, while I was glad to not have to pay for it again, it was kind of annoying to have to sit in the chair and have the same work done all over again and to find myself, at least until next week, slightly worse off than I was before, as I currently have only a temporary crown in place.
After leaving there I stopped at my eye doctor’s office to pick up some disinfecting solution for my contacts.
As the woman working there was printing up an itemized receipt for me, in case I get a request for one from my Flex plan, she noticed that I was overdue for an exam.
I said that it didn’t surprise me, but that I hadn’t received any sort of reminder, even though she said one had been mailed. It’s fairly likely that it got mixed in with the junk mail (which represents the vast majority of all of my mail) and was subsequently thrown away.
In any case, I made an appointment to have my eyes checked. She had actually asked me if April 1st was good for me, and without hesitation, even though I do have the day off, and perhaps a little too forcefully, I said, “No.”
The 1st is, of course, the day that Sin City hits theaters, and I don’t intend to do much of anything that isn’t related to seeing the movie on that day.
My eye doctor has offices in Leesburg and Fairfax in addition to the one he has here in Ashburn, and I’ve had occasion to go to the Leesburg office in the past, as he has different equipment at different locations.
I recognized the woman working the desk today as the office manager from the Leesburg office.
The woman who used to be the office manager for Ashburn and Fairfax is the one I had attempted, in vain, to date a while back.
It’s been around a year since I last saw her actually working in the Ashburn office, and I’ve had occasion to stop in there several times since then. This was the first time I’d ever seen the woman from Leesburg in Ashburn. I don’t know if the fact that the woman from Leesburg is working in Ashburn is significant or not.
The woman I’d tried to date, whom we’ll call “Stone Face,” had mentioned that she might leave Virginia at some point, so it could be that she’s actually gone, or it could just be that there has been some reorganization between the offices and she just no longer works in Ashburn, or works here less often.
When I go in for my exam I may try to casually ask, “So whatever happened to…?”
Of course, the problem is that my ability to be “casual,” particularly under those circumstances, is pretty limited.
The only reason I’m even curious about her whereabouts is the total lack of any sort of closure on this particular abortive attempt at dating.
I might not even care so much for that reason, since life so seldom provide closure, if it weren’t for the fact that I was so enormously attracted to her. Physically, she pretty much fell into the “dream girl” category.
She was absolutely gorgeous.
More than that, though, and related to the reason I refer to her as Stone Face, she was absolutely infuriating.
The woman had virtually no expression, beyond a “professional” smile, and her demeanor, at all times, was polite yet utterly detached. Even when she laughed, which she did often (and at appropriate times, so it's not like she was, visibly at least, laughing at me), there was so little in the way of feeling.
Under the best of circumstances I have difficulty picking up on any signals that a woman might be giving me, and even more difficulty figuring out what they might mean.
So when it comes to mixed signals I’m totally clueless.
With Stone Face, though, I ran into an even worse circumstance, as whatever signals she did give out were almost totally imperceptible and when I could pick up on them they were, at best, mixed.
Technically we went on two dates, and kind of did the “having coffee” thing a couple of times, in addition to the several times I encountered her in the actual business setting.
In that time I was never able to get any sort of read on her.
Besides the issues of lack of expression and the whole Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle with her signals, there was another issue: she was “involved” with someone.
On some occasions she made it seem as though the relationship was essentially over (on one occasion she even told me that she had thought about using the fact that I had expressed interest in her as the impetus to end the relationship), on others she made it seem as though it had just started but was not serious, and on others she actually referred to him as her boyfriend.
Still, as frustrating and annoying as it all was, perversely, it mostly served to make me want her more.
But despite my inability to perceive and interpret signals even I can take a hint, so it really didn’t take me that long to give up after she continued never returning my calls and essentially avoided giving me a direct answer whenever I asked her to do something, choosing instead to say “I’ll call you.”
So I gave up.
For a while.
Then one night I found her number mixed in with a bunch of receipts I was going through, so I said, “What the hell?”
At most I figured I’d get her voice mail and leave her a message that she would never respond to.
To my surprise, she answered…and told me that I had the wrong number.
As it was clear that she had recognized me, and since for once there was some actual emotion in her voice (annoyance), it was obviously a not very subtle way of telling me to buzz off.
So I did.
I encountered her a while after that, and she was as reservedly friendly to me as she had ever been prior to the wrong number incident, leaving me a little confused (again).
I didn’t really get a chance to talk to her, though, so I couldn’t get into a What the fuck is your deal? conversation with her.
And, as mentioned, that was the last time I saw her, so I still don’t know what happened.
I’m of the opinion, though, that she’s lucky that I’m as lazy as I am, as I can’t help but think that this is how stalkers get their start.
Actually, that’s untrue, as stalkers really don’t need any sort of excuse, and besides that it’s not just laziness that keeps me from engaging in that sort of behavior.
After all, I don’t spend much time actually thinking about her. She mostly comes to mind on days like today when I actually went into the place where I met her.
And when I do think about her, it’s usually just to wonder WTF (Or to think about how big her boobs were. Damn!)
Honestly, I think the answer to the WTF is pretty obvious. Initially she thought she might like me (or, alternatively, that she could use me as an excuse to end a relationship), but then she decided that she wasn’t interested,but wanted to avoid conflict.
(I wonder if two “Avoiders” make a good match?)
The much less likely theory is that she was attempting to follow “The Rules” and that it backfired in the form of me just giving up on the whole thing.
…
I had take a break right there, as the notion that a woman would be so misguided as to think that she would need to follow some sort of self-help program to maintain my interest was just too funny.
*Sigh* Man, that was a good laugh.
Honestly, I think that a Jon-specific version of “The Rules” would be something like:
1. Have a pulse
2. Be willing to settle for less
3. Agree to be seen with him in public
4. Be nice to him every so often (birthdays and holidays at a minimum)
5. Learn to smile and nod while tuning out what he says
6. Develop a high tolerance for boredom
That would pretty much cover it. No need to play any sort of never returning calls games, or endeavoring to make yourself appear to be a “creature like no other” in my eyes, as being willing to go out with me pretty much makes you a creature like no other by default…
No, I think the first theory (particularly following the more cynical line of thought about using me as a convenient excuse to dump her boyfriend) is the most likely one.
Also, she had heard a lot about the quality of my company’s holiday parties, which are sort of famous in this area, so I also served as her ticket to one of them.
But whatever. It’s all irrelevant, and as mentioned only comes to mind because I went to the eye doctor’s office.
So now my weekend is over. Its end arrived a little more quickly than usual thanks to the two days of training.
Next week I will, as mentioned, have an extra day off for Sin City.
Somewhere along the line before the 4th I need to pick up a spring form pan and the ingredients for the Oreo cheesecake in order to have it ready for the morning of the 5th.
Once Sin City has come and gone I’ll be back to having little or nothing to look forward to.
“Dead Like Me” seems to be dead and buried at this point. No other movie (not even the latest Star Wars) appeals to me as much as SC.
So I guess I just have to hope that SC generates lots of sequels, otherwise I’ll be in search of something to look forward to.
In any case, that’s going to do it for this week.
I’m sure next week, as the time ticks away, will be very Sin City-centric, so I extend my apologies in advance to any of you who are sick of hearing about it.
But, in the meantime, have a good weekend.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Making The Deal
Today’s trip to class was considerably smoother and more uneventful than it was yesterday, so I arrived, as is more traditional, with time to spare.
Further, I was there before Kathleen, thus restoring the world to its natural order.
In the first case study today I was once again working with two of the really hot girls, though this time I was partnered with the one we’ll call “Specs,” as she wore glasses.
“Specs” isn’t quite as pretty as the girl I was working with yesterday (though at their level of hotness such considerations are largely irrelevant), whom we’ll call “Beauty Queen,” or “BQ.”
However, I did determine that Specs is even prettier than my initial assessment, and that overall she has a better body than BQ, who is a little too skinny.
Specs herself is also a little on the thin side, but still has a little more of a figure.
(As mentioned yesterday, the married chick has the best balance of being pretty and having a nice body)
The structure of the role-playing exercises didn’t really allow much time for attempting to make any sort of personal connection, though, so it wasn’t as if I really got the opportunity to put any moves (if we assume that somewhere, in some hidden recess of my personality, long-unused and covered with dust, I actually have moves) on her.
Before lunch we engaged in something more of a “real world” exercise.
For the exercise we had to split into pairs, with each of us putting $5 on the table.
The point was for us to come up with some sort of creative negotiation with which to determine which of the two would get the money.
There were various rules, such as that if no agreement was reached within the allotted time the money was forfeited to the instructor.
It had been my hope that I’d be paired with either Specs or BQ. I had thought that I could use the negotiation as a technique for getting a date.
Pathetic? Of course. Borderline prostitution? Sure, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
It was irrelevant, though, as I was not paired with either of them.
Specs, in exchange for the money, agreed to go out for drinks with her negotiating partner, a woman who, like Specs, is relatively new to the area and has very few friends.
It wasn’t actually a date (as far as any of us knew, at any rate), but even so, the fact that Specs did end up agreeing to go out with her negotiating partner made the fact that I wasn’t paired with her that much more annoying and disappointing.
We actually got to choose our own partner for the exercise, but Specs and BQ had both been chosen before I got my turn, so, since the married hot chick wasn’t really an option, I went with the woman we’ll call “Tucson.”
(For the record, I don’t feel comfortable using the real names of people who either haven’t given me the okay to do so or I don’t know well enough to assume that it’s okay, thus the nicknames)
Tucson is the woman I mentioned yesterday who knew Kathleen and Brian back in Tucson, Arizona (though I think she left there before I started, as I’m likely to have remembered seeing her).
I mentioned yesterday that she was “semi-attractive.” This was something of an understatement and inaccurate assessment on my part. She isn’t as hot as the married chick, or Specs and BQ, but she is better-looking than I initially thought, and I would have to say that her body is second only to that of the married chick.
From things I’d heard her say, I got the impression that Tucson was involved with someone, so I didn’t try to go the date route.
In fact, I really didn’t know what approach to take to the negotiation.
Kathleen had pointed out that we had learned yesterday that while I’m an “Avoider,” Tucson is a “Competer.”
(And no, that’s not really a word, but “competitor” doesn’t quite fit)
What Kathleen failed to consider, though, and as I pointed out to Tucson, I am spiteful, so there was always the chance that I might stall negotiations to force us to forfeit the money, taking an “if I can’t have it, no one can” approach.
That’s not the approach I actually took, though.
Instead, I took no real approach, and Tucson tried, in vain, to offer me things I might want. Since there’s very little in life that I do want, there was very little she could offer me.
As we proceeded with the negotiation, we agreed that there was some difficulty in working out any sort of future arrangement, as under ordinary circumstances we work at fairly widely-separated locations.
There was, however, a window of opportunity two weeks from now when Kathleen and I are once again heading to HQ to take another two-day class.
Establishing that, we shifted focus to what I could offer her in exchange for the $5.
Naturally, naughty thoughts about what I could do for (or, in the words of Val Kilmer, more to the point, to her) danced through my mind, but somewhere amid the vividly imagined scenes of debauchery I hit upon a skill I possess that isn’t dirty (and which, therefore, is a lot less rusty).
I can cook.
And, perhaps more importantly, I can bake.
I can bake things like cheesecake.
More specifically, Oreo cheesecake.
We very quickly had a deal; I got five dollars, and two weeks from now she gets an incredibly decadent and indulgent homemade dessert.
Ultimately, since I’ll have to buy a spring form pan, and the pricey ingredients, to say nothing of the time and effort, it’ll cost me more than $5, but hey, I won in the short-term.
Besides, on the (extreme) off-chance that she’s not involved with anyone, and has even the most miniscule sliver of interest in me, this gives me an opportunity to encounter her again and make a positive impression.
Plus it gives me an excuse to buy the pan and try making a cheesecake on my own, both of which I wanted to do, but was hesitant, as entire cheesecakes that I would probably end up eating completely by myself are the absolute last things I need to be making.
So the fact that I’m doing it for someone else gives me justification and protects my waistline.
For her part, Kathleen pretty much got hosed on the deal. She paired up with the hot married chick, and not only did she not get the money, she agreed to provide a free one-hour consultation on “House and Life Organization,” which is a business that she’s been trying to start up.
So in addition to the five bucks, she gave away $50 worth of services!
Loser!
Err, I mean, umm…
Honestly, the real benefit to Kathleen is that the consultation will undoubtedly lead to some actual work for the hot married chick and will probably get her some referrals. So in the long-term, it could be considered a win.
In explaining the rules and giving examples of deals he’d seen worked out in other classes, the instructor asked how many of the guys in the class were single.
Mine was the only hand raised (and yet people say it's my imagination when I complain about how often I feel as though I'm the only single person in the world).
In any case, he suggested that single guys will usually go for food. Kathleen suggested that what would be of more value to the single guys are the names of any single women the negotiators might know.
As this could rapidly degenerate into discussions about pimping, we moved on to another topic…
Overall, the class was a little more interesting than the last one Kathleen and I took a couple of weeks ago, and I think I did actually pick up some information that I can put to use.
And if nothing else, there was some definite eye candy, and…I talked a fairly hot chick into giving me five bucks and seeing me again (sort of)!
On many occasions I’ve made reference to the fact that “the beautiful people” work at headquarters, and, as mentioned, it was very evident in this class.
Of course I also saw them wandering the lengthy hallways, moving from office to office, keeping busy and looking beautiful.
It goes beyond their own personal physical appearance, though, as many of them tend to dress extremely stylishly (and expensively).
One thing in particular that I’ve noticed is their shoes.
The women tend to wear shoes (and boots) of the kind I had really only previously seen in catalogs, or movies, not on the feet of actual people.
It’s just sort of…striking, particularly if, like me, you notice those kinds of things.
It would be going way too far to suggest that I have a foot fetish, but I do tend to notice (and appreciate) “sexy” footwear. Patent leather, spike heels, straps…they don’t exactly get my blood pumping, but they do catch my eye, and at HQ there’s a lot to see.
I guess that, as far as wearing the shoes, it’s a money thing. Women at HQ have enough disposable income to spend on expensive footwear that’s considerably more “glamorous” than the shoes purchased by, say, lower-middle class housewives in the Midwest.
Also, I suppose that practicality and sensibility are much lesser considerations at HQ than they are in other work environments.
But whatever the reasons, expensive haircuts, stylish outfits, and sexy shoes: they’re what make HQ the home of the beautiful people.
On the topic of cooking/baking for other people, Kathleen has her duty crew tonight with the fire department and she offered to put her newly-developed culinary skills to use. She opted to go with the Chicken Pot Pie, which, as it did in class, even involved handling raw chicken, so it looks like she’s overcome her fear.
Hopefully there won’t be any headlines about the Leesburg Volunteer Fire Company being struck down by a case of salmonella…
And on that note, I’ll bring this entry to a close.
Further, I was there before Kathleen, thus restoring the world to its natural order.
In the first case study today I was once again working with two of the really hot girls, though this time I was partnered with the one we’ll call “Specs,” as she wore glasses.
“Specs” isn’t quite as pretty as the girl I was working with yesterday (though at their level of hotness such considerations are largely irrelevant), whom we’ll call “Beauty Queen,” or “BQ.”
However, I did determine that Specs is even prettier than my initial assessment, and that overall she has a better body than BQ, who is a little too skinny.
Specs herself is also a little on the thin side, but still has a little more of a figure.
(As mentioned yesterday, the married chick has the best balance of being pretty and having a nice body)
The structure of the role-playing exercises didn’t really allow much time for attempting to make any sort of personal connection, though, so it wasn’t as if I really got the opportunity to put any moves (if we assume that somewhere, in some hidden recess of my personality, long-unused and covered with dust, I actually have moves) on her.
Before lunch we engaged in something more of a “real world” exercise.
For the exercise we had to split into pairs, with each of us putting $5 on the table.
The point was for us to come up with some sort of creative negotiation with which to determine which of the two would get the money.
There were various rules, such as that if no agreement was reached within the allotted time the money was forfeited to the instructor.
It had been my hope that I’d be paired with either Specs or BQ. I had thought that I could use the negotiation as a technique for getting a date.
Pathetic? Of course. Borderline prostitution? Sure, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
It was irrelevant, though, as I was not paired with either of them.
Specs, in exchange for the money, agreed to go out for drinks with her negotiating partner, a woman who, like Specs, is relatively new to the area and has very few friends.
It wasn’t actually a date (as far as any of us knew, at any rate), but even so, the fact that Specs did end up agreeing to go out with her negotiating partner made the fact that I wasn’t paired with her that much more annoying and disappointing.
We actually got to choose our own partner for the exercise, but Specs and BQ had both been chosen before I got my turn, so, since the married hot chick wasn’t really an option, I went with the woman we’ll call “Tucson.”
(For the record, I don’t feel comfortable using the real names of people who either haven’t given me the okay to do so or I don’t know well enough to assume that it’s okay, thus the nicknames)
Tucson is the woman I mentioned yesterday who knew Kathleen and Brian back in Tucson, Arizona (though I think she left there before I started, as I’m likely to have remembered seeing her).
I mentioned yesterday that she was “semi-attractive.” This was something of an understatement and inaccurate assessment on my part. She isn’t as hot as the married chick, or Specs and BQ, but she is better-looking than I initially thought, and I would have to say that her body is second only to that of the married chick.
From things I’d heard her say, I got the impression that Tucson was involved with someone, so I didn’t try to go the date route.
In fact, I really didn’t know what approach to take to the negotiation.
Kathleen had pointed out that we had learned yesterday that while I’m an “Avoider,” Tucson is a “Competer.”
(And no, that’s not really a word, but “competitor” doesn’t quite fit)
What Kathleen failed to consider, though, and as I pointed out to Tucson, I am spiteful, so there was always the chance that I might stall negotiations to force us to forfeit the money, taking an “if I can’t have it, no one can” approach.
That’s not the approach I actually took, though.
Instead, I took no real approach, and Tucson tried, in vain, to offer me things I might want. Since there’s very little in life that I do want, there was very little she could offer me.
As we proceeded with the negotiation, we agreed that there was some difficulty in working out any sort of future arrangement, as under ordinary circumstances we work at fairly widely-separated locations.
There was, however, a window of opportunity two weeks from now when Kathleen and I are once again heading to HQ to take another two-day class.
Establishing that, we shifted focus to what I could offer her in exchange for the $5.
Naturally, naughty thoughts about what I could do for (or, in the words of Val Kilmer, more to the point, to her) danced through my mind, but somewhere amid the vividly imagined scenes of debauchery I hit upon a skill I possess that isn’t dirty (and which, therefore, is a lot less rusty).
I can cook.
And, perhaps more importantly, I can bake.
I can bake things like cheesecake.
More specifically, Oreo cheesecake.
We very quickly had a deal; I got five dollars, and two weeks from now she gets an incredibly decadent and indulgent homemade dessert.
Ultimately, since I’ll have to buy a spring form pan, and the pricey ingredients, to say nothing of the time and effort, it’ll cost me more than $5, but hey, I won in the short-term.
Besides, on the (extreme) off-chance that she’s not involved with anyone, and has even the most miniscule sliver of interest in me, this gives me an opportunity to encounter her again and make a positive impression.
Plus it gives me an excuse to buy the pan and try making a cheesecake on my own, both of which I wanted to do, but was hesitant, as entire cheesecakes that I would probably end up eating completely by myself are the absolute last things I need to be making.
So the fact that I’m doing it for someone else gives me justification and protects my waistline.
For her part, Kathleen pretty much got hosed on the deal. She paired up with the hot married chick, and not only did she not get the money, she agreed to provide a free one-hour consultation on “House and Life Organization,” which is a business that she’s been trying to start up.
So in addition to the five bucks, she gave away $50 worth of services!
Loser!
Err, I mean, umm…
Honestly, the real benefit to Kathleen is that the consultation will undoubtedly lead to some actual work for the hot married chick and will probably get her some referrals. So in the long-term, it could be considered a win.
In explaining the rules and giving examples of deals he’d seen worked out in other classes, the instructor asked how many of the guys in the class were single.
Mine was the only hand raised (and yet people say it's my imagination when I complain about how often I feel as though I'm the only single person in the world).
In any case, he suggested that single guys will usually go for food. Kathleen suggested that what would be of more value to the single guys are the names of any single women the negotiators might know.
As this could rapidly degenerate into discussions about pimping, we moved on to another topic…
Overall, the class was a little more interesting than the last one Kathleen and I took a couple of weeks ago, and I think I did actually pick up some information that I can put to use.
And if nothing else, there was some definite eye candy, and…I talked a fairly hot chick into giving me five bucks and seeing me again (sort of)!
On many occasions I’ve made reference to the fact that “the beautiful people” work at headquarters, and, as mentioned, it was very evident in this class.
Of course I also saw them wandering the lengthy hallways, moving from office to office, keeping busy and looking beautiful.
It goes beyond their own personal physical appearance, though, as many of them tend to dress extremely stylishly (and expensively).
One thing in particular that I’ve noticed is their shoes.
The women tend to wear shoes (and boots) of the kind I had really only previously seen in catalogs, or movies, not on the feet of actual people.
It’s just sort of…striking, particularly if, like me, you notice those kinds of things.
It would be going way too far to suggest that I have a foot fetish, but I do tend to notice (and appreciate) “sexy” footwear. Patent leather, spike heels, straps…they don’t exactly get my blood pumping, but they do catch my eye, and at HQ there’s a lot to see.
I guess that, as far as wearing the shoes, it’s a money thing. Women at HQ have enough disposable income to spend on expensive footwear that’s considerably more “glamorous” than the shoes purchased by, say, lower-middle class housewives in the Midwest.
Also, I suppose that practicality and sensibility are much lesser considerations at HQ than they are in other work environments.
But whatever the reasons, expensive haircuts, stylish outfits, and sexy shoes: they’re what make HQ the home of the beautiful people.
On the topic of cooking/baking for other people, Kathleen has her duty crew tonight with the fire department and she offered to put her newly-developed culinary skills to use. She opted to go with the Chicken Pot Pie, which, as it did in class, even involved handling raw chicken, so it looks like she’s overcome her fear.
Hopefully there won’t be any headlines about the Leesburg Volunteer Fire Company being struck down by a case of salmonella…
And on that note, I’ll bring this entry to a close.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
More Than A Little Scary Pt. 2
If for no other reason than that in it Rush Limbaugh makes a point that I have to (sort of) agree with, this article over at Time.com has some scary content.
On a positive note, though, you can make use of BugMeNot to get Time.com login information to read the complete article.
As a not entirely related aside, the other night (and several times since) I saw an ad on TV that confirms that Sin City has officially received an “R” rating.
Still, since “R” rated movies have been seeing reduced box office profits lately, that does raise some possible concerns. Overall, though, I'm just glad it wasn't watered down enough to get a “PG-13” rating.
On a positive note, though, you can make use of BugMeNot to get Time.com login information to read the complete article.
As a not entirely related aside, the other night (and several times since) I saw an ad on TV that confirms that Sin City has officially received an “R” rating.
Still, since “R” rated movies have been seeing reduced box office profits lately, that does raise some possible concerns. Overall, though, I'm just glad it wasn't watered down enough to get a “PG-13” rating.
Late For Once, Reverse, Neutral, Aggressive, Some Eye Candy, And My Own Piece Of Splendor
So today started off okay, or at least as “okay” as any day that requires getting up earlier than usual and going out into the world can start.
I got up, took a shower, got dressed, and was ready to head to the first day of my training class with time to spare.
I had shaved before going to bed last night in order to save myself some time (and visible splotchy red skin irritation) this morning.
I stopped at Safeway to buy a bottle of water and was well on my way.
That was when I realized that I’d forgotten my badge, which I needed in order to get in the gate and into the building.
So I turned around and headed back home to grab it.
After I’d finished that I had about ten minutes to get to HQ, which would be enough to just barely get there, find a parking space, and walk breathlessly into the classroom right at 9 am.
Of course, that was operating on the assumption that the amount of traffic wouldn’t increase exponentially in the five minutes it took me to get my badge, and also assuming that I wouldn’t hit every red light.
The amount of traffic did increase exponentially, though, and it was while I was stopped at one of the many red lights I’d hit along the way that I noticed flashing blue lights behind me.
I couldn’t imagine what the cop wanted, as traffic conditions were such that I couldn’t have been speeding.
That turns out to be the problem, though. He was concerned about how closely I was following the car ahead of me (and he was also concerned about the fact that he’d followed me with his lights on for a half a mile without me noticing him). I explained the situation and he decided to let me go with a warning, advising me that I was just going to have to accept the fact that I was going to be late and that I should back off from the tailgating (though I wonder how much time he’s spent driving in Northern Virginia if he thinks that anyone can possibly avoid tailgating when driving without driving fifteen to twenty miles below the speed limit).
So I was late, but fortunately the instructor wasn’t the type to make a big deal about it (and there were a couple of people who arrived much later than I did).
It is, however, extremely unusual for me to be late, and so it was an odd reversal of roles for Kathleen to be there on time and me to be late.
The class, which continues tomorrow, is all about negotiation.
In the course of it we took a little survey which revealed how we handle conflict.
It wasn’t surprising to me to discover that the results revealed that I will, whenever possible, avoid conflict.
(It was, however, surprising to see the same result for Kathleen, as I can’t think of a time that I’ve ever known her to avoid conflict.)
In any case, reading through some of the information about the personality types essentially squared with my reasoning for avoiding conflict, namely that a lot of conflict tends to be rather pointless.
I’m not in the habit of making hollow gestures; if I know that engaging in conflict is not going to change anything, I’m not inclined to argue just for the sake of arguing.
My next strongest tendency was to compromise, which again, I think, relates to my desire to avoid unnecessary conflict.
My weakest tendency, by the way, was to collaborate, which should come as no surprise to anyone.
However, right after compromising came competing.
This didn’t surprise me either.
In most cases I tend not to be competitive, simply because most of the time I just don’t care.
I’m not inclined to engage in, say, a pissing contest (the standard metaphor for male competitiveness), simply because how far I can piss in relation to someone else (whether literally or metaphorically) is utterly meaningless to me.
Do I compete at sports? No, because I suck at them, and have no interest in getting better at them. So you can run faster than I can. And that’s somehow significant because…?
You’re better at basketball than I am? Why is it that I’m supposed to care?
None of this, however, is intended to suggest that I’m some sort of mild-mannered pushover.
If I avoid conflict it’s simply because I don’t want to be bothered, not because I’m afraid.
And if there is something that I do care about, I will exhibit a strong competitive drive, particularly when it comes to beating down your worthless opinion with mine and proving that, compared to me, you’re the biggest idiot to ever spring forth from the recessive genes of inbred parents.
Which, appropriately enough, leads me to my next point: me and assertiveness? Not so much.
I am, however, pretty intimately acquainted with aggressiveness.
Throughout the years, however, I have endeavored to work on being more assertive.
To say I’ve had mixed results would be an outright lie. There have been no results.
On one occasion I attempted to work on “not holding back,” and freely asserting my feelings and opinions.
The end result of that was that no one wanted to be anywhere near me and I had made one person (a grown man) cry.
As another example, my friend Gretchen often (fondly) makes reference to the time that I cleared out a room full of guys (many of them much bigger than I am) with the sheer power of my hostility (though beer and a lack of sleep also helped).
On neither occasion did I intend to be aggressive or hostile. I was simply attempting to assert myself.
Over the years, what I’ve learned from my various attempts at doing so is that I just can’t be assertive. My personal transmission just seems to be lacking that gear, going straight from neutral to aggressive.
So, because I’d really rather not spend all of my time making people cry or possibly fear for their lives, or both, my only real option is to avoid conflict.
I am at least intellectually aware of what is and is not socially acceptable, but I don’t seem to be able to always effectively incorporate that awareness into my own behavior, so it’s easier to be quiet and non-confrontational.
That’s not to say that I always avoid conflict, as it’s impossible to get through life that way, but I try, and when it’s impossible to avoid I tend to be as restrained and accommodating as I possibly can.
Often I will try to appeal to the other party’s desire to avoid conflict as well (the survey we took showed that something like 90% of people fall into the “avoidance” category), and try to push for resolution to the conflict by relying on the fact that they don’t want to waste time arguing any more than I do.
I’m sure my laziness figures in there somewhere as well, or maybe it’s even symptomatic of the issue.
But whatever the case, maybe this class will help cure me of my lack of assertiveness, though I doubt that a two-day course is too likely to help me unlearn a lifelong behavioral pattern.
In any case, on to the more significant aspect of today’s class: the chicks.
Last night all of us enrolled in the class got an e-mail informing us of a location change. I noted that the list of names the mail was distributed to included a lot of female names, so I was hoping that this would bode well for the odds of there being some good-looking women in the class.
For once I was not disappointed. Overall, this is the best-looking group I’ve seen in my recent training experiences, with three women in particular who stood out.
A quick ring-check revealed that only one of the three is married/engaged, but in a group exercise I was actually teamed with the remaining (ringless) two.
Of course, as is the nature of such things, I actually found the unavailable one to be the most attractive (and yes, that was before I saw the ring).
However, the other two are still very attractive, and one of them began to grow on me more throughout the course of the day.
When I first spotted her I thought that she looked attractive but bitchy.
In the exercise, which involved two of us trying to negotiate a fictional business deal with two other people, she and I were partnered as the “sellers,” and I learned that she was much friendlier than she initially appeared.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll pick up some “negotiation”skills that I can put to good use…
During today’s class I noted that one of the semi-attractive women was being very friendly with Kathleen. Not unusually so, but still, it kind of stood out for me, particularly when we took our break and she and the attractive woman with the ring came and sat with us and she was very friendly with Kathleen as well.
It turns out that Kathleen and the semi-attractive woman had known each other back in Tucson, so that explained that.
Still, this sort of thing isn’t unusual, even with total strangers.
Nor is it especially surprising, I suppose, given that Kathleen is considerably more friendly and gregarious than I am, and, as a woman, is not considered a “threat” (or, as the case may be, a creep).
In any case, my point is that I think that, if she were of a mind to, and I’m in no way suggesting that she is, Kathleen could easily pick up more chicks than I could ever hope to.
Honestly, this sort of thing happens everywhere we go. Kathleen starts talking and women start hanging on her every word. Tuesday nights she practically holds court at our cooking class.
So yeah, Kathleen. Total stud.
Of course, in fairness, pretty much anyone can pick up more chicks than I can. In fact, anyone who has done so at all in recent memory has me beat.
Hell, serial killers who were convicted of making women into smoking jackets managed to pick up more chicks than I’m able to (after all, when they were loose they had to get their smoking jacket material from somewhere), and still manage to get women throwing themselves at them while they’re behind bars.
*Sigh*
On the topic of lonely, anti-social losers who aren’t me, today after class I threw American Splendor in to watch while I was cooking.
If you look in my profile you’ll see it listed as one of my favorite movies.
I highly recommend checking it out.
“Splendor” is based on the comics of the same name written by Harvey Pekar, a (now-retired) file clerk in Ohio, and stars Paul Giamatti, recently recognized for his performance in the critically acclaimed “Sideways.”
Watching Harvey’s life, in much the way that people feel after reading Threshold, makes me feel at least a little better about my own, so that alone is worth something.
Beyond the fact that the subject matter is interesting and entertaining, though, I really admire the way it was brought to film, making skillful use of panels from the comics and original art, and also cameos that are much more than cameos (actually bordering on being documentary footage) of the real Harvey and his friends and family.
The style of the movie is difficult to explain, and is much better when actually experienced first-hand anyway.
So yeah, check it out if you get a chance.
In a way, though I’ve never actually read any of the “Splendor” comics (though I’ve been aware of them for a very long time), I feel a sort of connection to Harvey.
Not just because I’m a lonely curmudgeon (or a “gloomy guy,” as he describes himself), but because I engage in an activity very similar to his documenting his life and life's experience in the form of this blog.
Threshold is, in a lot of ways, my own personal American Splendor.
Of course, unlike Harvey I don’t actually get paid for this, but hey, I’ve got a much better job than he had, so it sort of evens out.
Kind of.
After all, Harvey, too, has better luck (since “any” is better) at picking up chicks.
And I’ve never been on Letterman even once, let alone multiple times.
And no one’s ever made a movie about me.
And now he’s probably got way more money than I do.
*Sigh*
And here I was actually feeling better about my life.
Thanks a lot, Harvey.
I got up, took a shower, got dressed, and was ready to head to the first day of my training class with time to spare.
I had shaved before going to bed last night in order to save myself some time (and visible splotchy red skin irritation) this morning.
I stopped at Safeway to buy a bottle of water and was well on my way.
That was when I realized that I’d forgotten my badge, which I needed in order to get in the gate and into the building.
So I turned around and headed back home to grab it.
After I’d finished that I had about ten minutes to get to HQ, which would be enough to just barely get there, find a parking space, and walk breathlessly into the classroom right at 9 am.
Of course, that was operating on the assumption that the amount of traffic wouldn’t increase exponentially in the five minutes it took me to get my badge, and also assuming that I wouldn’t hit every red light.
The amount of traffic did increase exponentially, though, and it was while I was stopped at one of the many red lights I’d hit along the way that I noticed flashing blue lights behind me.
I couldn’t imagine what the cop wanted, as traffic conditions were such that I couldn’t have been speeding.
That turns out to be the problem, though. He was concerned about how closely I was following the car ahead of me (and he was also concerned about the fact that he’d followed me with his lights on for a half a mile without me noticing him). I explained the situation and he decided to let me go with a warning, advising me that I was just going to have to accept the fact that I was going to be late and that I should back off from the tailgating (though I wonder how much time he’s spent driving in Northern Virginia if he thinks that anyone can possibly avoid tailgating when driving without driving fifteen to twenty miles below the speed limit).
So I was late, but fortunately the instructor wasn’t the type to make a big deal about it (and there were a couple of people who arrived much later than I did).
It is, however, extremely unusual for me to be late, and so it was an odd reversal of roles for Kathleen to be there on time and me to be late.
The class, which continues tomorrow, is all about negotiation.
In the course of it we took a little survey which revealed how we handle conflict.
It wasn’t surprising to me to discover that the results revealed that I will, whenever possible, avoid conflict.
(It was, however, surprising to see the same result for Kathleen, as I can’t think of a time that I’ve ever known her to avoid conflict.)
In any case, reading through some of the information about the personality types essentially squared with my reasoning for avoiding conflict, namely that a lot of conflict tends to be rather pointless.
I’m not in the habit of making hollow gestures; if I know that engaging in conflict is not going to change anything, I’m not inclined to argue just for the sake of arguing.
My next strongest tendency was to compromise, which again, I think, relates to my desire to avoid unnecessary conflict.
My weakest tendency, by the way, was to collaborate, which should come as no surprise to anyone.
However, right after compromising came competing.
This didn’t surprise me either.
In most cases I tend not to be competitive, simply because most of the time I just don’t care.
I’m not inclined to engage in, say, a pissing contest (the standard metaphor for male competitiveness), simply because how far I can piss in relation to someone else (whether literally or metaphorically) is utterly meaningless to me.
Do I compete at sports? No, because I suck at them, and have no interest in getting better at them. So you can run faster than I can. And that’s somehow significant because…?
You’re better at basketball than I am? Why is it that I’m supposed to care?
None of this, however, is intended to suggest that I’m some sort of mild-mannered pushover.
If I avoid conflict it’s simply because I don’t want to be bothered, not because I’m afraid.
And if there is something that I do care about, I will exhibit a strong competitive drive, particularly when it comes to beating down your worthless opinion with mine and proving that, compared to me, you’re the biggest idiot to ever spring forth from the recessive genes of inbred parents.
Which, appropriately enough, leads me to my next point: me and assertiveness? Not so much.
I am, however, pretty intimately acquainted with aggressiveness.
Throughout the years, however, I have endeavored to work on being more assertive.
To say I’ve had mixed results would be an outright lie. There have been no results.
On one occasion I attempted to work on “not holding back,” and freely asserting my feelings and opinions.
The end result of that was that no one wanted to be anywhere near me and I had made one person (a grown man) cry.
As another example, my friend Gretchen often (fondly) makes reference to the time that I cleared out a room full of guys (many of them much bigger than I am) with the sheer power of my hostility (though beer and a lack of sleep also helped).
On neither occasion did I intend to be aggressive or hostile. I was simply attempting to assert myself.
Over the years, what I’ve learned from my various attempts at doing so is that I just can’t be assertive. My personal transmission just seems to be lacking that gear, going straight from neutral to aggressive.
So, because I’d really rather not spend all of my time making people cry or possibly fear for their lives, or both, my only real option is to avoid conflict.
I am at least intellectually aware of what is and is not socially acceptable, but I don’t seem to be able to always effectively incorporate that awareness into my own behavior, so it’s easier to be quiet and non-confrontational.
That’s not to say that I always avoid conflict, as it’s impossible to get through life that way, but I try, and when it’s impossible to avoid I tend to be as restrained and accommodating as I possibly can.
Often I will try to appeal to the other party’s desire to avoid conflict as well (the survey we took showed that something like 90% of people fall into the “avoidance” category), and try to push for resolution to the conflict by relying on the fact that they don’t want to waste time arguing any more than I do.
I’m sure my laziness figures in there somewhere as well, or maybe it’s even symptomatic of the issue.
But whatever the case, maybe this class will help cure me of my lack of assertiveness, though I doubt that a two-day course is too likely to help me unlearn a lifelong behavioral pattern.
In any case, on to the more significant aspect of today’s class: the chicks.
Last night all of us enrolled in the class got an e-mail informing us of a location change. I noted that the list of names the mail was distributed to included a lot of female names, so I was hoping that this would bode well for the odds of there being some good-looking women in the class.
For once I was not disappointed. Overall, this is the best-looking group I’ve seen in my recent training experiences, with three women in particular who stood out.
A quick ring-check revealed that only one of the three is married/engaged, but in a group exercise I was actually teamed with the remaining (ringless) two.
Of course, as is the nature of such things, I actually found the unavailable one to be the most attractive (and yes, that was before I saw the ring).
However, the other two are still very attractive, and one of them began to grow on me more throughout the course of the day.
When I first spotted her I thought that she looked attractive but bitchy.
In the exercise, which involved two of us trying to negotiate a fictional business deal with two other people, she and I were partnered as the “sellers,” and I learned that she was much friendlier than she initially appeared.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll pick up some “negotiation”skills that I can put to good use…
During today’s class I noted that one of the semi-attractive women was being very friendly with Kathleen. Not unusually so, but still, it kind of stood out for me, particularly when we took our break and she and the attractive woman with the ring came and sat with us and she was very friendly with Kathleen as well.
It turns out that Kathleen and the semi-attractive woman had known each other back in Tucson, so that explained that.
Still, this sort of thing isn’t unusual, even with total strangers.
Nor is it especially surprising, I suppose, given that Kathleen is considerably more friendly and gregarious than I am, and, as a woman, is not considered a “threat” (or, as the case may be, a creep).
In any case, my point is that I think that, if she were of a mind to, and I’m in no way suggesting that she is, Kathleen could easily pick up more chicks than I could ever hope to.
Honestly, this sort of thing happens everywhere we go. Kathleen starts talking and women start hanging on her every word. Tuesday nights she practically holds court at our cooking class.
So yeah, Kathleen. Total stud.
Of course, in fairness, pretty much anyone can pick up more chicks than I can. In fact, anyone who has done so at all in recent memory has me beat.
Hell, serial killers who were convicted of making women into smoking jackets managed to pick up more chicks than I’m able to (after all, when they were loose they had to get their smoking jacket material from somewhere), and still manage to get women throwing themselves at them while they’re behind bars.
*Sigh*
On the topic of lonely, anti-social losers who aren’t me, today after class I threw American Splendor in to watch while I was cooking.
If you look in my profile you’ll see it listed as one of my favorite movies.
I highly recommend checking it out.
“Splendor” is based on the comics of the same name written by Harvey Pekar, a (now-retired) file clerk in Ohio, and stars Paul Giamatti, recently recognized for his performance in the critically acclaimed “Sideways.”
Watching Harvey’s life, in much the way that people feel after reading Threshold, makes me feel at least a little better about my own, so that alone is worth something.
Beyond the fact that the subject matter is interesting and entertaining, though, I really admire the way it was brought to film, making skillful use of panels from the comics and original art, and also cameos that are much more than cameos (actually bordering on being documentary footage) of the real Harvey and his friends and family.
The style of the movie is difficult to explain, and is much better when actually experienced first-hand anyway.
So yeah, check it out if you get a chance.
In a way, though I’ve never actually read any of the “Splendor” comics (though I’ve been aware of them for a very long time), I feel a sort of connection to Harvey.
Not just because I’m a lonely curmudgeon (or a “gloomy guy,” as he describes himself), but because I engage in an activity very similar to his documenting his life and life's experience in the form of this blog.
Threshold is, in a lot of ways, my own personal American Splendor.
Of course, unlike Harvey I don’t actually get paid for this, but hey, I’ve got a much better job than he had, so it sort of evens out.
Kind of.
After all, Harvey, too, has better luck (since “any” is better) at picking up chicks.
And I’ve never been on Letterman even once, let alone multiple times.
And no one’s ever made a movie about me.
And now he’s probably got way more money than I do.
*Sigh*
And here I was actually feeling better about my life.
Thanks a lot, Harvey.
Monday, March 21, 2005
I'm TOTALLY Buying One Of Those!
Here we're treated to a glimpse of the future from the distant past.
It's always kind of funny to look back on things like this and see just how wrong people were in making predictions about the future (I am, after all, still waiting for my damn flying car), but I find this one especially amusing.
Of course, you can't really fault people for failing to predict the invention of the transistor, but you'd think they could have imagined that things would be getting at least a little bit smaller.
Then again, such shortsightedness is hardly anything new. Consider the (relatively) recent comments of a certain very wealthy man about no one ever needing more than 640 K of memory...
For some time now there's been a big focus on the concept of "convergence," bringing unrelated technologies together with a computer (of some sort) at the center of it all.
In the world of convergence, which is a vision of the future that has largely come to pass, your computer is your telephone, your entertainment system, and your home security system.
In the vision of the future represented by the picture above, though, "convergence" evidently extended to your vehicle.
What else could that steering wheel be for?
PC meets SUV, from the looks of it...
Thanks to Scott for passing this picture along to me.
Ah, Spring, When A Young Man's Fancy Lightly Turns To Thoughts Of...Manure?
Unlike napalm, the smell of cedar and manure in the morning does not smell like victory.
It does, however, smell like springtime.
Manure is all over the place these days as groundskeepers throughout NoVA prepare for the blossoming of spring into summer.
As I was driving around town earlier today I saw virtual mountains of bags of fertilizer just waiting to be applied to the grass.
At work, though, the heavy scent of the fertilizer is the strongest, assaulting my nostrils even before I get out of my car.
I’m not certain why they take such care with the lawn at work. Even on nice days nobody really spends any time outside to enjoy the beautiful lawn, and even if we were so inclined the stench would drive us back inside anyway.
Ah well, at least it looks nice.
My weekend was about as uneventful as always, with no major developments of interest. I worked out, worked, slept, worked out, worked, slept, worked out, worked, and slept my way through three extremely long days and now I find my weekend well underway.
Of course, said “weekend” will be interrupted by two days of training, tomorrow and Wednesday, but the eventual reward will be lots of OT on my next check, so that’s okay.
Speaking of which, my most recent check contained a large chunk of OT, so I find myself having, theoretically at least, a fair amount of money.
Naturally my eyes keep being drawn towards new, expensive electronic devices (my current computer is well over a year old, after all), but so far I’ve managed to limit myself to window-shopping, and earlier today, even though I was very close to it, I had the good sense to keep myself from going into Best Buy.
Best Buy is, after all, the last place I should go when I have money.
Or rather, theoretical money.
Strictly speaking, most of the money I have right now needs to be used to pay the upcoming rent and a few straggling bills. However, there are ways in which I could creatively budget this and upcoming money so that I could just carelessly +spend most of what is currently burning a hole in my checking account.
I’d prefer not to do that, though, as it would involve counting some chickens well before they’re hatched, and it would throw off the bill-paying schedule I’ve established.
Either way, though, it’s looking as if eventually I’ll be able to put a significant chunk of money away and still engage in some wanton acts of consumerism.
And in the meantime I’m trying to appreciate the value of delayed gratification.
Over the weekend, and for the second weekend in a row, I had a dream about my ex-wife.
Prior to the past two weekends that had been a rare (and increasingly so) occurrence, and it had been my hope that it would stay that way.
Usually when I dream about her it takes one of two forms: either it’s in the past when we were still together, or it’s in the present and we’ve gotten back together.
As far as I’m concerned, neither circumstance is acceptable. I have no desire to go back to the life I once had, and I certainly have no interest in bringing her into the life I have now (even if such a thing were possible, which it really isn’t).
So naturally these dreams leave me more than a little annoyed, particularly since even in the dream I don’t want to be with her. My dream self is incredibly unhappy about being with her, and, particularly in the dreams in which she’s “come back to me,” I find myself thinking, “Why? Why am I with her?”
And yet, in the dreams, I don’t say anything, and I just go along with it all.
Irritating.
Hopefully I won’t follow this trend again this weekend.
When I was complaining to Brian and Kathleen about how I’d dreamed of my ex again, Brian won the “Well No Shit, Sherlock Award” when he said, “You just need to get laid.”
That statement is pretty much applicable to any complaint I have…
If you’re like me (and for your sake I hope that, in most respects, you’re not), you hate sites that make you register just to access their content.
I’m not talking about sites that charge a premium and make you subscribe in order to view content, but rather free sites that pointlessly require you to create a login.
Because they’re not collecting any subscription fees I’d have to say that requiring registration for free content is pointless and stupid.
In general, unless the site has some sort of content that I absolutely can’t live without having access to, I will simply stop going to sites if they require registration.
Over the weekend, though, I found this site, which helps people get around the registration nonsense.
Once you arrive at http://www.bugmenot.com/, you enter in the URL of a site that’s requiring you to register and, if it has it in its database, it will provide you with the login information of a registered account, allowing you to sign in and access the site’s content without having to hand over any personal information (which is the real reason sites make you register).
While you’re at BugMeNot, I’d recommend checking out the link to the NY Times article. It’s got some pretty entertaining stories.
In any case, that’s going to do it for this particular entry. I may be back later, but I make no promises.
I don’t have cooking class tomorrow night, so I may end up being a little more prolific than I usually am on Tuesday evenings. We’ll see.
It does, however, smell like springtime.
Manure is all over the place these days as groundskeepers throughout NoVA prepare for the blossoming of spring into summer.
As I was driving around town earlier today I saw virtual mountains of bags of fertilizer just waiting to be applied to the grass.
At work, though, the heavy scent of the fertilizer is the strongest, assaulting my nostrils even before I get out of my car.
I’m not certain why they take such care with the lawn at work. Even on nice days nobody really spends any time outside to enjoy the beautiful lawn, and even if we were so inclined the stench would drive us back inside anyway.
Ah well, at least it looks nice.
My weekend was about as uneventful as always, with no major developments of interest. I worked out, worked, slept, worked out, worked, slept, worked out, worked, and slept my way through three extremely long days and now I find my weekend well underway.
Of course, said “weekend” will be interrupted by two days of training, tomorrow and Wednesday, but the eventual reward will be lots of OT on my next check, so that’s okay.
Speaking of which, my most recent check contained a large chunk of OT, so I find myself having, theoretically at least, a fair amount of money.
Naturally my eyes keep being drawn towards new, expensive electronic devices (my current computer is well over a year old, after all), but so far I’ve managed to limit myself to window-shopping, and earlier today, even though I was very close to it, I had the good sense to keep myself from going into Best Buy.
Best Buy is, after all, the last place I should go when I have money.
Or rather, theoretical money.
Strictly speaking, most of the money I have right now needs to be used to pay the upcoming rent and a few straggling bills. However, there are ways in which I could creatively budget this and upcoming money so that I could just carelessly +spend most of what is currently burning a hole in my checking account.
I’d prefer not to do that, though, as it would involve counting some chickens well before they’re hatched, and it would throw off the bill-paying schedule I’ve established.
Either way, though, it’s looking as if eventually I’ll be able to put a significant chunk of money away and still engage in some wanton acts of consumerism.
And in the meantime I’m trying to appreciate the value of delayed gratification.
Over the weekend, and for the second weekend in a row, I had a dream about my ex-wife.
Prior to the past two weekends that had been a rare (and increasingly so) occurrence, and it had been my hope that it would stay that way.
Usually when I dream about her it takes one of two forms: either it’s in the past when we were still together, or it’s in the present and we’ve gotten back together.
As far as I’m concerned, neither circumstance is acceptable. I have no desire to go back to the life I once had, and I certainly have no interest in bringing her into the life I have now (even if such a thing were possible, which it really isn’t).
So naturally these dreams leave me more than a little annoyed, particularly since even in the dream I don’t want to be with her. My dream self is incredibly unhappy about being with her, and, particularly in the dreams in which she’s “come back to me,” I find myself thinking, “Why? Why am I with her?”
And yet, in the dreams, I don’t say anything, and I just go along with it all.
Irritating.
Hopefully I won’t follow this trend again this weekend.
When I was complaining to Brian and Kathleen about how I’d dreamed of my ex again, Brian won the “Well No Shit, Sherlock Award” when he said, “You just need to get laid.”
That statement is pretty much applicable to any complaint I have…
If you’re like me (and for your sake I hope that, in most respects, you’re not), you hate sites that make you register just to access their content.
I’m not talking about sites that charge a premium and make you subscribe in order to view content, but rather free sites that pointlessly require you to create a login.
Because they’re not collecting any subscription fees I’d have to say that requiring registration for free content is pointless and stupid.
In general, unless the site has some sort of content that I absolutely can’t live without having access to, I will simply stop going to sites if they require registration.
Over the weekend, though, I found this site, which helps people get around the registration nonsense.
Once you arrive at http://www.bugmenot.com/, you enter in the URL of a site that’s requiring you to register and, if it has it in its database, it will provide you with the login information of a registered account, allowing you to sign in and access the site’s content without having to hand over any personal information (which is the real reason sites make you register).
While you’re at BugMeNot, I’d recommend checking out the link to the NY Times article. It’s got some pretty entertaining stories.
In any case, that’s going to do it for this particular entry. I may be back later, but I make no promises.
I don’t have cooking class tomorrow night, so I may end up being a little more prolific than I usually am on Tuesday evenings. We’ll see.
I Was Going To Post It, I Swear...
As you can see from the comment Wendy made on my last post, http://www.angelfire.com/comics2/geekapalooza/ is the site with information on the convention she's organizing.
I had fully intended to give the site a plug (several, actually), but just hadn't done so yet.
But now that Wendy has done so it looks like it wasn't my idea.
I'll bet people are saying, "Oh, sure, now he says he was going to post it," or "He's only saying that because he has to."
Thanks a lot, Wendy! Now I look like a thoughtless jerk for not being nice enough to post a link to http://www.angelfire.com/comics2/geekapalooza/without you having to come and do it yourself and forcing me to save face.
All kidding aside, check out http://www.angelfire.com/comics2/geekapalooza/ to learn all about Geekapalooza.
(And I totally was going to post a link on my own)
I had fully intended to give the site a plug (several, actually), but just hadn't done so yet.
But now that Wendy has done so it looks like it wasn't my idea.
I'll bet people are saying, "Oh, sure, now he says he was going to post it," or "He's only saying that because he has to."
Thanks a lot, Wendy! Now I look like a thoughtless jerk for not being nice enough to post a link to http://www.angelfire.com/comics2/geekapalooza/without you having to come and do it yourself and forcing me to save face.
All kidding aside, check out http://www.angelfire.com/comics2/geekapalooza/ to learn all about Geekapalooza.
(And I totally was going to post a link on my own)
Sunday, March 20, 2005
Sin City Mini-Documentary
Go here and click on "Bringing the Graphic Novel to Life."
Some of the pictures are very cool, too, as they show side-by-side comparisons of panels from the comics, the scene being shot against a green screen, and the finished product.
Some of the pictures are very cool, too, as they show side-by-side comparisons of panels from the comics, the scene being shot against a green screen, and the finished product.
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