This morning as I was coming in to work I noticed a “wet floor” sign in the lobby and I thought, cruelly, that they should replace the little stick figure pictogram of a person slipping and falling with a picture of Sasha Cohen.
Yes, cute though she may be, Sash Cohen, to the intense satisfaction of the press, did, in fact, blow it.
Once I got in to work I saw Sasha on the TV being interviewed by Bob Costas. Though I couldn’t hear what was being said, in my head the interview went something like this:
Bob Costas: So, Sasha, after taking the lead in the short program, you fell twice in the opening minute of your long performance, destroying your chances of taking the gold. How does it feel to know that you’ve totally blown it, not only letting down yourself, but also the American people whose hopes and aspirations you’ve destroyed?
Sasha Cohen (sweetly and demurely): Screw you, Costas! How many silver medals have you won, in anything? That’s what I thought, bitch.
Seriously, winning a silver medal in the Olympics is a monumental accomplishment, for anyone, and especially for someone so young.
Besides, how many of the people finding fault with her performance could look that good in a cute little skating outfit?
(Well, Costas might. He is pretty dreamy.)
At the very least, she didn’t get beaten by a chick who has “slut” in her name.
I could say something about my willingness to help console Sasha over missing another chance at the gold, but honestly, for her that would probably feel like losing all over again…
I see in the news that Sheryl Crow had some sort of cancer scare, though I haven’t read up on any of the details.
How much would that suck? I mean, besides the having a terminal disease part, you know she’d get zero sympathy from boyfriend Lance Armstrong.
“Oh, so you’ve got cancer? Boo hoo hoo. I lost a frickin’ ball to cancer and still managed to win the Tour de France seven times.”
Still, while I’m not a fan, I hope she recovers.
Our little “Threshold Celebrity Cavalcade” continues as we venture into the frightening world of my sub-conscious and examine a weird-ass dream I had last night.
As I’ve said many times, my brain isn’t even a nice place to visit and I have to live there.
So make sure your safety belts are securely fastened and keep your hands in the cart at all times as the doors swing open and we are swallowed up by darkness on all sides and prepare to be shocked by the things that go bump in my brain.
The dream started in what was, apparently, my bedroom, though it was no bedroom I’ve ever had, but in the dream it made perfect sense for me to be there, and a quick memory check indicated that this was an apartment that I’d only recently moved into.
I questioned this a little, because didn’t I just buy a condo? However, all questions of reality were put aside as this big, fat bald guy came bursting into the room and demanding that I cease making such a racket.
My first response was, “Who the fuck are you?” My second was “How the fuck did you get in here?”
(I tend to work “blue” in my dreams)
He explained that he was my neighbor and that he had a key, and went on to explain that he kept his home office in the bedroom with which my bedroom shared a wall and that I was interfering with his work.
In colorful language I told him that it wasn’t making that much noise, and it wasn’t my problem if he couldn’t concentrate on what he was doing, and that he had no business having a key to my apartment and just bursting in.
I believe he also had his son with him.
In any case, after that was over I went to talk to my landlord, who appeared to be a combination of a landlord I had in Minnesota and Ben Afleck.
He apologized for my neighbor’s behavior and said that he would pay to have my locks changed.
Once I was back inside with my new locks I deliberately made a racket in the bedroom, then I called the cops while my neighbor pounded on my door threatening me and trying to break in.
I woke up shortly thereafter.
It was very odd and utterly random dream. The one benefit to the whole thing, though, is that before the neighbor burst in on me I was in the middle of banging Adrianne Curry, though that was ruined by having a fat bald guy burst in with his kid while I’m mid-thrust with my bare ass in the air.
(I warned you that it would be disturbing, but I guess nothing can really prepare you for something like that)
What does it all mean? No clue. My best guess is this: I want to bang Adrianne Curry, but I’m worried that a bald fat man will interrupt, so I need to get a new lock from Ben Afleck.
I’d like to see Freud interpret it any better.
This article about the kid who downloaded the one-billionth iTunes song is pretty cool. It almost makes up for Apple including Apple logo stickers with my Nano.
Almost.
Once again it’s a long, slow day here at work.
We recently (as of yesterday) got a new guy who’s sort of on our shift. He actually works the new Thursday-Saturday shift that we’re trying to gradually phase in, so he only works with us for two days.
So far he seems okay, and at least Scott and I have somebody else we can talk about Aqua Teen Hunger Force and The Venture Bros. with.
In any case, I suppose I should get back to doing whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing...
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Now I Know That The Universe Reads Threshold
Remember last night when I was writing about my imaginary island, the one on which I wouldn’t have to deal with traffic?
Well, the Universe remembered it this morning and said, “Oh, so you don’t like traffic, huh? How do you like this, bitch?” and proceeded to hit me with some of the most irritating traffic ever.
It wasn’t that there was that much traffic. In fact, I would say there were fewer cars than you’d expect out on the road.
But despite that, the traffic just refused to move, and there was no apparent cause that I could see.
The most irritating thing was that the biggest slowdowns occurred just before my exits, so I found myself in the “so close, yet so far away” situation as I was within sight of my exit but was slowed to a crawl or a complete stop.
On 7 I would expect this sort of thing, but on the toll road? Apart from the occasional backed-up exit on a Friday night I’ve never seen traffic do anything but flow smoothly there.
It was pretty irritating.
Once I got to the meeting my spirits were lifted slightly by learning that one of the speakers scheduled wouldn’t be making it, and we were going to not bother filling the void and leave early.
My spirits sagged, though, as I sat and listened to really boring presentations that had nothing to do with me given by some of the least dynamic speakers in the world.
Still, by the first break we were over a half an hour ahead of schedule.
Then the most boring guy ever got up to talk. And talk. And talk.
And then, as if they weren’t bored enough, people started asking questions. Why would you do that to yourself and your co-workers?
End result? We not only lost the half an hour we had gained but actually ended up being five minutes behind schedule.
I decided that I just couldn’t take any more at lunch time and ducked out of there. It just wouldn’t have been worth the additional overtime to stay for the whole thing.
When I got home my Nano was waiting for me, so I began playing around with that.
So far it really hasn’t “wowed” me. It performs its function, and it should be fine for what I intend to use it for, but I really don’t like having to use iTunes. I wish it worked more like my other MP3 player, which just shows up as an external drive once it’s plugged in so all I have to do is drag and drop the MP3 files over. Done.
Not so with the Nano.
I have to go into iTunes and create a library. From there I can choose to have it automatically move files over to the Nano, or I can do it manually. There are disadvantages to both methods. Manually is more like what I’m used to, though I still have to do it inside the iTunes GUI rather than just in Windows. However, if I do it that way I always have to remember to manually “eject” the Nano from iTunes when I want to disconnect it.
If I go with the automated method, it will first try to put every MP3 in the library onto the Nano, but it’s not able to that as my library of MP3s is 10 GBs more than the Nano’s capacity, so iTunes will then ask if I want it to just put a random sampling of MP3s onto the Nano.
I like having a little more control over what goes onto it, though, so that doesn’t work for me. Ultimately, I had to go through the library and remove everything except for 2 GB (actually, 1.82 GB) worth of songs that I wanted to move over to the Nano, allowing me to make use of the automatic updating.
Still, it should adequately serve its intended purpose now that I’ve essentially got it the way I want it.
Getting used to the controls took a little bit, but I’ve pretty much got the hang of it.
I don’t like the fact that you can’t actually “Stop” a song; you can only pause it. Not a big deal, and I can see the usefulness of it (If you shut it off and then turn it back on and hit Play it will just pick up where it left off. If you want to play something else, just navigate to a different song.), but it’s just representative of the odd way (from my perspective) that Apple does some things (QuickTime is similarly sans a “Stop” button).
Of course, the one advantage of going the iPod route is that there are so many third-party products made specifically for the iPod family.
One of those is the iPod Alarm Clock, which I actually picked up today.
I would have liked to have gotten a black one to match the Nano, but Best Buy didn’t have any in stock and I didn’t feel like sending away for one, so I went with the white.
After yesterday’s experience I vowed to never be woken by talk radio again, and since my old CD Clock Radio can’t manage to play CDs for the alarm anymore, I felt this was worth it.
In any case, it’s nearly time for me to wrap things up for the day.
Well, the Universe remembered it this morning and said, “Oh, so you don’t like traffic, huh? How do you like this, bitch?” and proceeded to hit me with some of the most irritating traffic ever.
It wasn’t that there was that much traffic. In fact, I would say there were fewer cars than you’d expect out on the road.
But despite that, the traffic just refused to move, and there was no apparent cause that I could see.
The most irritating thing was that the biggest slowdowns occurred just before my exits, so I found myself in the “so close, yet so far away” situation as I was within sight of my exit but was slowed to a crawl or a complete stop.
On 7 I would expect this sort of thing, but on the toll road? Apart from the occasional backed-up exit on a Friday night I’ve never seen traffic do anything but flow smoothly there.
It was pretty irritating.
Once I got to the meeting my spirits were lifted slightly by learning that one of the speakers scheduled wouldn’t be making it, and we were going to not bother filling the void and leave early.
My spirits sagged, though, as I sat and listened to really boring presentations that had nothing to do with me given by some of the least dynamic speakers in the world.
Still, by the first break we were over a half an hour ahead of schedule.
Then the most boring guy ever got up to talk. And talk. And talk.
And then, as if they weren’t bored enough, people started asking questions. Why would you do that to yourself and your co-workers?
End result? We not only lost the half an hour we had gained but actually ended up being five minutes behind schedule.
I decided that I just couldn’t take any more at lunch time and ducked out of there. It just wouldn’t have been worth the additional overtime to stay for the whole thing.
When I got home my Nano was waiting for me, so I began playing around with that.
So far it really hasn’t “wowed” me. It performs its function, and it should be fine for what I intend to use it for, but I really don’t like having to use iTunes. I wish it worked more like my other MP3 player, which just shows up as an external drive once it’s plugged in so all I have to do is drag and drop the MP3 files over. Done.
Not so with the Nano.
I have to go into iTunes and create a library. From there I can choose to have it automatically move files over to the Nano, or I can do it manually. There are disadvantages to both methods. Manually is more like what I’m used to, though I still have to do it inside the iTunes GUI rather than just in Windows. However, if I do it that way I always have to remember to manually “eject” the Nano from iTunes when I want to disconnect it.
If I go with the automated method, it will first try to put every MP3 in the library onto the Nano, but it’s not able to that as my library of MP3s is 10 GBs more than the Nano’s capacity, so iTunes will then ask if I want it to just put a random sampling of MP3s onto the Nano.
I like having a little more control over what goes onto it, though, so that doesn’t work for me. Ultimately, I had to go through the library and remove everything except for 2 GB (actually, 1.82 GB) worth of songs that I wanted to move over to the Nano, allowing me to make use of the automatic updating.
Still, it should adequately serve its intended purpose now that I’ve essentially got it the way I want it.
Getting used to the controls took a little bit, but I’ve pretty much got the hang of it.
I don’t like the fact that you can’t actually “Stop” a song; you can only pause it. Not a big deal, and I can see the usefulness of it (If you shut it off and then turn it back on and hit Play it will just pick up where it left off. If you want to play something else, just navigate to a different song.), but it’s just representative of the odd way (from my perspective) that Apple does some things (QuickTime is similarly sans a “Stop” button).
Of course, the one advantage of going the iPod route is that there are so many third-party products made specifically for the iPod family.
One of those is the iPod Alarm Clock, which I actually picked up today.
I would have liked to have gotten a black one to match the Nano, but Best Buy didn’t have any in stock and I didn’t feel like sending away for one, so I went with the white.
After yesterday’s experience I vowed to never be woken by talk radio again, and since my old CD Clock Radio can’t manage to play CDs for the alarm anymore, I felt this was worth it.
In any case, it’s nearly time for me to wrap things up for the day.
They Should Have Given Me A Coloring Book
My Nano arrived today. I'll write more later, but I need to go pick up my car in a few minutes, so I thought I'd just make a quick post with pictures.
The thing really is incredibly tiny.
Apple was kind enough to include some "cool" Apple logo stickers! What am I, six? I mean, WTF? Also, on the cellophane wrapped around the Nano itself there was a note saying, "Please don't steal music." Oh, okay, seeing as how you said please...
The thing really is incredibly tiny.
Apple was kind enough to include some "cool" Apple logo stickers! What am I, six? I mean, WTF? Also, on the cellophane wrapped around the Nano itself there was a note saying, "Please don't steal music." Oh, okay, seeing as how you said please...
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Maybe I Could Call It "Bacon Island"
Sometime this afternoon Brian pinged me on the Nextel to ask if they’d gotten a car for me yet, as he had duty crew tonight at 6, so he wouldn’t be able to bring me if it was after that.
I called over and they said they’d have one for me by 5:30, so I let Brian know.
A bit before 6 he pinged me again to let me know that he would be turning into my place shortly. I responded with, “Steve.”
Before he could question that, I added, “I’m going with Steve; fuck Roger.”
The loaner car is actually nicer than my car. That’s not saying a lot, but usually I get stuck with something crappier than my car whenever I have to have a loaner, which is saying a lot.
I’m really not looking forward to the all-day meeting tomorrow.
For one thing, it’s for the group umbrella under which several departments fall, so it’ll mostly consist of people I’ve never seen or even heard of talking about a bunch of crap that doesn’t actually apply to me directly.
For another, Scott and Brian won’t be there so I’ll likely have no one to talk to.
On the other hand, it is a big chunk of OT, so I guess it’s worth it. Kind of.
Well, not really, but oh well.
Because I’m not as disdainful of saving pennies as some people are, periodically the people who are disdainful of them will pass theirs along to me.
The other day Scott did so with a few and said something like, “You’d better invite me when you buy that island paradise.”
This was a reference to something I’ve said a few times in the past, namely that the only way I’m ever likely to know any measure of happiness is to own a private island.
Of course, I don’t see that happening any time…ever, but hey, this sort of thing isn’t about reality.
In any case, why am I so certain that owning a private island would make me happy?
Well, there are lots of reasons, the most obvious of which would be that there wouldn’t be any dogs suffering from separation anxiety living above me.
For another, well, if I had enough money to own a private island I would most likely have enough money that I wouldn’t have to work anywhere, which would mean no traffic.
Can you imagine how sweet it would be to not have to be stuck behind people who are terrified of a light misting of rain, or be cut off by people who wait until the last possible second to merge even though there have been signs for miles telling them that they have to merge? I can imagine it, and I do, pretty much every day.
Of course, my “island paradise” wouldn’t actually be of the tropical variety. After all, in the time I’ve spent living in Virginia after spending almost two years in Tucson I’ve come to enjoy having actual seasons again (Tucson’s “seasons” basically consisted of hot and dry and not-so hot and not-so dry; I want to see leaves changing color and even a little bit of snow every now and again).
So I’m thinking an island somewhere in North America, possibly on a lake rather than on the ocean. It would need to be near a reasonably large city to allow me to go out and do the things that, on occasion, I need to do in the world (basically, get food from a restaurant and go to a Best Buy).
The whole point would be that I would be isolated from the rest of humanity, but not totally cut off. Essentially I would cut incidental contact with other people down to the absolute bare minimum.
(Ultimately I suppose that it doesn’t even need to be an island. Maybe just someplace deep in the woods and well-hidden from the world around it, but I would like to have some kind of body of water nearby, and the extra layer of isolation that being surrounded by water would provide would be a definite plus.)
Basically it would be the way my life is now, only moreso, and in more scenic and peaceful surroundings.
The island wouldn’t need to be especially big, just roomy enough for a big house (just because I want a big house) and for me to get a fair amount of exercise by walking around.
It doesn’t really seem like too much to ask, though it’s way, way, WAY too much for me to ever afford.
Still, the island only exists in the province of my dreams anyway, so what does it matter that I can’t afford to buy it (even with the gift of a few pennies from Scott) in the real world?
I suppose it’s worth noting that when I imagine myself living on this island, I imagine myself. Even though I picture this as being at some undefined point in the future, I’m not picturing any kind of significant other being there to share it with me.
For one thing, I can’t honestly imagine a woman who’d be able to live in that kind of solitude and isolation, and for another, well, I can’t imagine a woman who could live with me.
After all, though this may all be a fantasy, there is some basis in reality. There are, for example, such things as islands in the real world, but a woman who could (or would) live with Jon? Not so much.
I suppose it’s kind of sad that I imagine myself still alone in the future – even in a hypothetical happy future – but if the past is prologue, then there’s really no reason not to imagine myself alone for the foreseeable future.
And I imagine that’s rather the point of it all. I mean, if I’m going to be alone anyway, why not take it to another level and isolate myself even further?
None of this is to say that I don’t ever spend time imagining myself with someone, it’s just that in this particular bit of imagining I don’t, and really, the less you know about the details of when I do imagine myself with someone the happier you’ll be.
On that topic – minus the details – I was thinking about my fascination with Sasha Cohen earlier today and realized, as I mentioned to Brian, why there could never be anything between us.
(Okay, we’re not fully back into reality here, so there’s no point in mentioning the obvious reasons why, such as the fact that she’s a cute, successful, famous 21 year old and I’m a not-so cute, not especially successful, 33 year old nobody, though I guess I just did mention them. Well, at least you don’t have to mention them.)
Why – assuming you don’t immediately go to the reasons listed above – is that, you ask?
Because she’s Jewish.
No, this isn’t an anti-Semitic thing. It’s not even a religious thing, given that from my perspective one religion is pretty much the same as any other.
So given that it’s not a religious problem, there’s really only one impediment to my being involved with a Jewish girl: bacon.
I don’t care how cute or flexible you are: nothing gets between me and bacon.
Sadly, this also interferes with my chances with Scarlett Johansson and even my mild crush (based mostly on her sense of humor) on Michelle over at You Can’t Make It Up.
My love of bacon would also tend to rule out vegetarians/vegans, Muslims, Hindus, and Rastafarians. Then, of course, there are the women who don’t have any particular sort of religious or idealistic objections to bacon but are merely concerned about their health.
Wow. Factor in lesbians and the mentally ill and I’ve really winnowed down the portion of the female population that I have any shot at compatibility with. I’m basically left with the bacon-loving morbidly obese
Of course, this is operating on the assumption that these women would not be at least tolerant of my pork product-related needs. Even if they were, though, the various other factors that keep women from having any interest in me would step up and quickly blow my chances.
After all, my overwhelming love of bacon is just one relatively minor issue. With so many other neuroses and deeply-ingrained habits it’s no wonder I’m on that island alone.
But at least I have the scent of bacon hanging heavy in the fresh, clean air, and in the silence all I can hear is its sizzle...
I called over and they said they’d have one for me by 5:30, so I let Brian know.
A bit before 6 he pinged me again to let me know that he would be turning into my place shortly. I responded with, “Steve.”
Before he could question that, I added, “I’m going with Steve; fuck Roger.”
The loaner car is actually nicer than my car. That’s not saying a lot, but usually I get stuck with something crappier than my car whenever I have to have a loaner, which is saying a lot.
I’m really not looking forward to the all-day meeting tomorrow.
For one thing, it’s for the group umbrella under which several departments fall, so it’ll mostly consist of people I’ve never seen or even heard of talking about a bunch of crap that doesn’t actually apply to me directly.
For another, Scott and Brian won’t be there so I’ll likely have no one to talk to.
On the other hand, it is a big chunk of OT, so I guess it’s worth it. Kind of.
Well, not really, but oh well.
Because I’m not as disdainful of saving pennies as some people are, periodically the people who are disdainful of them will pass theirs along to me.
The other day Scott did so with a few and said something like, “You’d better invite me when you buy that island paradise.”
This was a reference to something I’ve said a few times in the past, namely that the only way I’m ever likely to know any measure of happiness is to own a private island.
Of course, I don’t see that happening any time…ever, but hey, this sort of thing isn’t about reality.
In any case, why am I so certain that owning a private island would make me happy?
Well, there are lots of reasons, the most obvious of which would be that there wouldn’t be any dogs suffering from separation anxiety living above me.
For another, well, if I had enough money to own a private island I would most likely have enough money that I wouldn’t have to work anywhere, which would mean no traffic.
Can you imagine how sweet it would be to not have to be stuck behind people who are terrified of a light misting of rain, or be cut off by people who wait until the last possible second to merge even though there have been signs for miles telling them that they have to merge? I can imagine it, and I do, pretty much every day.
Of course, my “island paradise” wouldn’t actually be of the tropical variety. After all, in the time I’ve spent living in Virginia after spending almost two years in Tucson I’ve come to enjoy having actual seasons again (Tucson’s “seasons” basically consisted of hot and dry and not-so hot and not-so dry; I want to see leaves changing color and even a little bit of snow every now and again).
So I’m thinking an island somewhere in North America, possibly on a lake rather than on the ocean. It would need to be near a reasonably large city to allow me to go out and do the things that, on occasion, I need to do in the world (basically, get food from a restaurant and go to a Best Buy).
The whole point would be that I would be isolated from the rest of humanity, but not totally cut off. Essentially I would cut incidental contact with other people down to the absolute bare minimum.
(Ultimately I suppose that it doesn’t even need to be an island. Maybe just someplace deep in the woods and well-hidden from the world around it, but I would like to have some kind of body of water nearby, and the extra layer of isolation that being surrounded by water would provide would be a definite plus.)
Basically it would be the way my life is now, only moreso, and in more scenic and peaceful surroundings.
The island wouldn’t need to be especially big, just roomy enough for a big house (just because I want a big house) and for me to get a fair amount of exercise by walking around.
It doesn’t really seem like too much to ask, though it’s way, way, WAY too much for me to ever afford.
Still, the island only exists in the province of my dreams anyway, so what does it matter that I can’t afford to buy it (even with the gift of a few pennies from Scott) in the real world?
I suppose it’s worth noting that when I imagine myself living on this island, I imagine myself. Even though I picture this as being at some undefined point in the future, I’m not picturing any kind of significant other being there to share it with me.
For one thing, I can’t honestly imagine a woman who’d be able to live in that kind of solitude and isolation, and for another, well, I can’t imagine a woman who could live with me.
After all, though this may all be a fantasy, there is some basis in reality. There are, for example, such things as islands in the real world, but a woman who could (or would) live with Jon? Not so much.
I suppose it’s kind of sad that I imagine myself still alone in the future – even in a hypothetical happy future – but if the past is prologue, then there’s really no reason not to imagine myself alone for the foreseeable future.
And I imagine that’s rather the point of it all. I mean, if I’m going to be alone anyway, why not take it to another level and isolate myself even further?
None of this is to say that I don’t ever spend time imagining myself with someone, it’s just that in this particular bit of imagining I don’t, and really, the less you know about the details of when I do imagine myself with someone the happier you’ll be.
On that topic – minus the details – I was thinking about my fascination with Sasha Cohen earlier today and realized, as I mentioned to Brian, why there could never be anything between us.
(Okay, we’re not fully back into reality here, so there’s no point in mentioning the obvious reasons why, such as the fact that she’s a cute, successful, famous 21 year old and I’m a not-so cute, not especially successful, 33 year old nobody, though I guess I just did mention them. Well, at least you don’t have to mention them.)
Why – assuming you don’t immediately go to the reasons listed above – is that, you ask?
Because she’s Jewish.
No, this isn’t an anti-Semitic thing. It’s not even a religious thing, given that from my perspective one religion is pretty much the same as any other.
So given that it’s not a religious problem, there’s really only one impediment to my being involved with a Jewish girl: bacon.
I don’t care how cute or flexible you are: nothing gets between me and bacon.
Sadly, this also interferes with my chances with Scarlett Johansson and even my mild crush (based mostly on her sense of humor) on Michelle over at You Can’t Make It Up.
My love of bacon would also tend to rule out vegetarians/vegans, Muslims, Hindus, and Rastafarians. Then, of course, there are the women who don’t have any particular sort of religious or idealistic objections to bacon but are merely concerned about their health.
Wow. Factor in lesbians and the mentally ill and I’ve really winnowed down the portion of the female population that I have any shot at compatibility with. I’m basically left with the bacon-loving morbidly obese
Of course, this is operating on the assumption that these women would not be at least tolerant of my pork product-related needs. Even if they were, though, the various other factors that keep women from having any interest in me would step up and quickly blow my chances.
After all, my overwhelming love of bacon is just one relatively minor issue. With so many other neuroses and deeply-ingrained habits it’s no wonder I’m on that island alone.
But at least I have the scent of bacon hanging heavy in the fresh, clean air, and in the silence all I can hear is its sizzle...
Choose Your Own Reality
So I was out like a light for two+ hours as soon as my head hit the pillow this morning.
Once I got up, I headed down to check my mail and found a note on my door from FedEx indicating that they'd tried to deliver my iPod Nano to me while I was sleeping.
In the clean, slightly cartoony version of reality I cried, "Curses! Foiled again!" in my best Snively Whiplash imitation.
(In the gritty, realistic version of reality I said,"Fuck!" in my best Urkel imitation, which is to say, my normal voice)
The note said that they will attempt to deliver it again tomorrow.
Of course, I won't be home for most of tomorrow, thanks to an all-day meeting, so I had to sign the little box on the note that says it's okay with me if they just leave the package at my door.
I'd really rather not do that, but I'm hoping that my neighbors will be reasonably honest and that there will be a Nano waiting for me when I get home.
Once I got up, I headed down to check my mail and found a note on my door from FedEx indicating that they'd tried to deliver my iPod Nano to me while I was sleeping.
In the clean, slightly cartoony version of reality I cried, "Curses! Foiled again!" in my best Snively Whiplash imitation.
(In the gritty, realistic version of reality I said,"Fuck!" in my best Urkel imitation, which is to say, my normal voice)
The note said that they will attempt to deliver it again tomorrow.
Of course, I won't be home for most of tomorrow, thanks to an all-day meeting, so I had to sign the little box on the note that says it's okay with me if they just leave the package at my door.
I'd really rather not do that, but I'm hoping that my neighbors will be reasonably honest and that there will be a Nano waiting for me when I get home.
The Devil Is A Wife-Beater? I Didn't Even Know He Was Married
I was awoken by my alarm this morning – which today opted to tune in some talk radio station in its random selection – and found myself thinking, “Huh? It’s not the weekend.”
Shortly after that I realized that I had to be at the car dealership at 7:30 for my oil change and to get my tire fixed, so I got up.
Once I got outside I was surprised to see that the light snow was heavier than had been forecast, and that it didn’t seem as though it was going to turn to rain anytime soon, despite the fact that it was above freezing.
I got to the dealership a bit before 7:30, and as I always do, wondered just when you need to show up to avoid being the tenth car in line. Rather than wait in line, though, I just pulled into a parking space and waited for the pace to actually open.
Eventually I turned my keys over and headed to the waiting area. I sat and read an e-book on my PDA and tried to tune out the conversation that two of the other people waiting were having (It was about the pervasiveness of technology, IT security, outsourcing, and about a dozen other topics. They bounced willy-nilly from subject to subject, and though the tenor of the conversation was amiable enough, the man seemed to have very little interest in hearing what the woman had to say, often cutting her off and preventing her from making whatever point she tried to make.)
After a little over an hour everyone else started to clear out one by one, and one of the service guys came in and said my name. I started to get up and he walked over say, “Might as well sit back down.”
He explained that they’d changed the oil and fixed my tire, but that something in my brake system was leaking (which, in addition to the leaky tire, goes a long way towards explaining why the car has felt “off” for a while), and that it could lead to the brake line leaking. They needed a part that won’t be delivered until tomorrow, it wasn’t safe to drive the car thanks to the potential for the brakes to go out, and they didn’t have any available cars for me to drive home.
That meant I had to call Brian to ask for a ride. I would have walked (it would only be a few miles) but it was still snowing fairly heavily, so a walk wouldn’t have been especially pleasant.
Standing outside after having called Brian, someone – not sure if he worked there or what – commented on how hard it was snowing despite the fact that it was relatively warm. He likened it first to when it rains while the sun is shining, and then said, “It’s like the Devil beating his wife.”
I’m really not sure what that means, but he was extremely pleased at the sound of it, so much so that, laughing, he said it again. “Snowing when it’s warm’s like the Devil beating his wife.”
A bit after that I heard a bunch of sirens sounding off in the distance, which I assumed were responding to an accident caused by the “snow storm.” As it had been a while since I’d called Brian, I thought, “Hmm…I really hope he didn’t respond to a call and forget about me,” but he hadn’t, and soon arrived and we stopped for breakfast, as it was just a bit after nine by this point.
Supposedly they’ll have a car ready for me by this evening, so I’ll have to ping Brian for a ride over.
As we got up from our table after our breakfast (I had two eggs, home fries, sausage links, and two ginormous hot cakes) I saw the guy at the table next to ours reading USA Today, which featured a big picture of Sasha Cohen bent forward and gliding along on her left leg while holding onto her skate and bending her right leg so that her foot was right next to her head. I pointed this out to Brian and said, “See? That’s what I’m talking about.”
He responded, “Oh, I know what you’re talking about.”
Apparently she’s in the lead now, though from what I’ve seen everyone is pretty much concluding that she’ll blow it – without actually coming right out and saying that. They’re doing it in this passive-aggressive manner, asking things like, “Will she make it this time?” Or simply pointing out that she’s been in the lead before and blown it.
As for me, I don’t think it matters if she wins or not because, well, just look at her in action and read my description of the photo in USA Today again.
In any case, 7 am was a bit too early of a start to such a dreary day, so I believe I will answer the siren call of my bed.
Shortly after that I realized that I had to be at the car dealership at 7:30 for my oil change and to get my tire fixed, so I got up.
Once I got outside I was surprised to see that the light snow was heavier than had been forecast, and that it didn’t seem as though it was going to turn to rain anytime soon, despite the fact that it was above freezing.
I got to the dealership a bit before 7:30, and as I always do, wondered just when you need to show up to avoid being the tenth car in line. Rather than wait in line, though, I just pulled into a parking space and waited for the pace to actually open.
Eventually I turned my keys over and headed to the waiting area. I sat and read an e-book on my PDA and tried to tune out the conversation that two of the other people waiting were having (It was about the pervasiveness of technology, IT security, outsourcing, and about a dozen other topics. They bounced willy-nilly from subject to subject, and though the tenor of the conversation was amiable enough, the man seemed to have very little interest in hearing what the woman had to say, often cutting her off and preventing her from making whatever point she tried to make.)
After a little over an hour everyone else started to clear out one by one, and one of the service guys came in and said my name. I started to get up and he walked over say, “Might as well sit back down.”
He explained that they’d changed the oil and fixed my tire, but that something in my brake system was leaking (which, in addition to the leaky tire, goes a long way towards explaining why the car has felt “off” for a while), and that it could lead to the brake line leaking. They needed a part that won’t be delivered until tomorrow, it wasn’t safe to drive the car thanks to the potential for the brakes to go out, and they didn’t have any available cars for me to drive home.
That meant I had to call Brian to ask for a ride. I would have walked (it would only be a few miles) but it was still snowing fairly heavily, so a walk wouldn’t have been especially pleasant.
Standing outside after having called Brian, someone – not sure if he worked there or what – commented on how hard it was snowing despite the fact that it was relatively warm. He likened it first to when it rains while the sun is shining, and then said, “It’s like the Devil beating his wife.”
I’m really not sure what that means, but he was extremely pleased at the sound of it, so much so that, laughing, he said it again. “Snowing when it’s warm’s like the Devil beating his wife.”
A bit after that I heard a bunch of sirens sounding off in the distance, which I assumed were responding to an accident caused by the “snow storm.” As it had been a while since I’d called Brian, I thought, “Hmm…I really hope he didn’t respond to a call and forget about me,” but he hadn’t, and soon arrived and we stopped for breakfast, as it was just a bit after nine by this point.
Supposedly they’ll have a car ready for me by this evening, so I’ll have to ping Brian for a ride over.
As we got up from our table after our breakfast (I had two eggs, home fries, sausage links, and two ginormous hot cakes) I saw the guy at the table next to ours reading USA Today, which featured a big picture of Sasha Cohen bent forward and gliding along on her left leg while holding onto her skate and bending her right leg so that her foot was right next to her head. I pointed this out to Brian and said, “See? That’s what I’m talking about.”
He responded, “Oh, I know what you’re talking about.”
Apparently she’s in the lead now, though from what I’ve seen everyone is pretty much concluding that she’ll blow it – without actually coming right out and saying that. They’re doing it in this passive-aggressive manner, asking things like, “Will she make it this time?” Or simply pointing out that she’s been in the lead before and blown it.
As for me, I don’t think it matters if she wins or not because, well, just look at her in action and read my description of the photo in USA Today again.
In any case, 7 am was a bit too early of a start to such a dreary day, so I believe I will answer the siren call of my bed.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Slightly Less Barren Walls
When I headed out to my car this morning on my way to do some proper grocery shopping I found that the tire had pretty much deflated again.
I broke out the fix-a-flat stuff, but it didn’t appear to do much of anything.
As the tire wasn’t totally flat, and experience had shown that it would stay inflated long enough for me to do what I had to do, I headed to a gas station and aired it up.
I then opted to head to my car dealership, as I needed to make an appointment for an oil change, and I figured that I could get an appointment to have the tire taken care of at the same time.
On the way there I stopped at the ghetto Wal-Mart, thinking that I’d seen a tire shop there, but found that I was mistaken. I did go in and buy some frames for two of the posters I had made at Zazzle, then headed to the dealership and made my appointment for tomorrow morning.
From there I went to the grocery store, then came home and opted to put the spare tire on to, well, spare me from having to air up the tire again tomorrow morning to drive to the dealership. In examining the tire I found that the cause of the leak is a nail that I must have picked up somewhere along the line.
After finishing that I put the pictures in their frames and hung them up.
By then it was time for lunch and I was going to just nuke something, but decided that since it’s a nice day, I need the exercise, and there are a couple of little plazas with stores and restaurants within walking distance, I’d go for a little walk and pick up lunch somewhere.
Just as I was walking into one of the plazas and was preparing to see what sort of food I could get there I thought I heard Brian’s voice, sounding rather muffled, saying, “Maki.”
At first I thought maybe he’d been driving by and said my name from his window, but then I realized that it had come from my pocket, as he was pinging me on the Nextel.
In an excellent bit of timing he was checking to see if I wanted to get lunch somewhere and ended up suggesting a place that was just across the street from me.
Shortly after he arrived and we’d ordered one of his friends from the fire department stopped in to talk to him, so I spent most of the time sitting there totally out of the loop as they talked about people I don’t know and various fire department things that were basically Greek to me.
When we left, I opted to get a ride home from Brian rather than walk back.
I checked my mail and found that the third poster I had ordered, which had been mailed separately because it was a custom size, had arrived.
One thing that’s kind of cool about the mail here – though the fact that all of the mailboxes are in one location, which is pretty far away from my place is irritating – is that there are these “parcel lockers” located by the mailboxes. If a package arrives that’s too big for the mailbox, the mail carrier puts it in one of the lockers and puts the key to locker in your mailbox.
I find that preferable to the method used at my old place, which consisted of the mail carrier walking partway up the stairs and bouncing the package off my door.
(Of course, I did have the advantage there of just having to go down the stairs to get my mail)
I gave that guy with the HVAC company a call back today to quote him my rate for logo design. When I first called, a secretary answered and I realized that I didn’t remember the guy’s name.
What followed that realization was an explanation of why I was calling that was so awkward you would think that I was calling to ask someone out.
“I’m calling for – Tony gave my number – the person’s name escapes me. Um. I’m returning a call to…someone.”
It wasn’t quite that bad, but when she managed to slice through my rambling and speculatively supply the person’s name, my response was something like, “Yuh, yuh, yuh. Him.”
He wasn’t there, but I left a semi-coherent message and eventually he called back. For whatever reason my phone skills hadn’t improved much.
Still, I got the point across and he seemed to think that my rate (which I just totally pulled out of my ass, though basing it in part on what they used to charge on my behalf, though I didn’t make that much, when I actually did design work for a living back in Minnesota six years ago), but he had to confer with his partners.
Brian suggested that this sort of thing could be a good side business for me. The thought had occurred to me, of course, but given my less than stellar history of trying to make a living off of my creative abilities, I’m a bit leery of getting too invested into this sort of thing.
I guess we’ll see how this goes, though.
In any case, I think that will do it for this entry. Here are some pictures of my newly mounted art.
“Kiki,” my Nagelesque portrait of Kirsten Dunst, got the sweet spot above the mantle, as it’s one of my favorites of the various images I did in the style of Patrick Nagel a while back. FYI, the bowls and the clock on the mantle were made by my dad, who is EXTREMELY talented. Eventually, if/when I ever get an LCD TV, everything will have to be moved elsewhere.
Though it probably deserves a more prominent display, the picture of Rachael Leigh Cook as Death really couldn’t be hung anywhere other than in my bedroom. After all, it’s as close as I’ll ever come to having RLC – or probably any woman – in my bedroom.
I now have a picture of Death up on my wall, but I have yet to find a permanent home for my Death action figure.
I broke out the fix-a-flat stuff, but it didn’t appear to do much of anything.
As the tire wasn’t totally flat, and experience had shown that it would stay inflated long enough for me to do what I had to do, I headed to a gas station and aired it up.
I then opted to head to my car dealership, as I needed to make an appointment for an oil change, and I figured that I could get an appointment to have the tire taken care of at the same time.
On the way there I stopped at the ghetto Wal-Mart, thinking that I’d seen a tire shop there, but found that I was mistaken. I did go in and buy some frames for two of the posters I had made at Zazzle, then headed to the dealership and made my appointment for tomorrow morning.
From there I went to the grocery store, then came home and opted to put the spare tire on to, well, spare me from having to air up the tire again tomorrow morning to drive to the dealership. In examining the tire I found that the cause of the leak is a nail that I must have picked up somewhere along the line.
After finishing that I put the pictures in their frames and hung them up.
By then it was time for lunch and I was going to just nuke something, but decided that since it’s a nice day, I need the exercise, and there are a couple of little plazas with stores and restaurants within walking distance, I’d go for a little walk and pick up lunch somewhere.
Just as I was walking into one of the plazas and was preparing to see what sort of food I could get there I thought I heard Brian’s voice, sounding rather muffled, saying, “Maki.”
At first I thought maybe he’d been driving by and said my name from his window, but then I realized that it had come from my pocket, as he was pinging me on the Nextel.
In an excellent bit of timing he was checking to see if I wanted to get lunch somewhere and ended up suggesting a place that was just across the street from me.
Shortly after he arrived and we’d ordered one of his friends from the fire department stopped in to talk to him, so I spent most of the time sitting there totally out of the loop as they talked about people I don’t know and various fire department things that were basically Greek to me.
When we left, I opted to get a ride home from Brian rather than walk back.
I checked my mail and found that the third poster I had ordered, which had been mailed separately because it was a custom size, had arrived.
One thing that’s kind of cool about the mail here – though the fact that all of the mailboxes are in one location, which is pretty far away from my place is irritating – is that there are these “parcel lockers” located by the mailboxes. If a package arrives that’s too big for the mailbox, the mail carrier puts it in one of the lockers and puts the key to locker in your mailbox.
I find that preferable to the method used at my old place, which consisted of the mail carrier walking partway up the stairs and bouncing the package off my door.
(Of course, I did have the advantage there of just having to go down the stairs to get my mail)
I gave that guy with the HVAC company a call back today to quote him my rate for logo design. When I first called, a secretary answered and I realized that I didn’t remember the guy’s name.
What followed that realization was an explanation of why I was calling that was so awkward you would think that I was calling to ask someone out.
“I’m calling for – Tony gave my number – the person’s name escapes me. Um. I’m returning a call to…someone.”
It wasn’t quite that bad, but when she managed to slice through my rambling and speculatively supply the person’s name, my response was something like, “Yuh, yuh, yuh. Him.”
He wasn’t there, but I left a semi-coherent message and eventually he called back. For whatever reason my phone skills hadn’t improved much.
Still, I got the point across and he seemed to think that my rate (which I just totally pulled out of my ass, though basing it in part on what they used to charge on my behalf, though I didn’t make that much, when I actually did design work for a living back in Minnesota six years ago), but he had to confer with his partners.
Brian suggested that this sort of thing could be a good side business for me. The thought had occurred to me, of course, but given my less than stellar history of trying to make a living off of my creative abilities, I’m a bit leery of getting too invested into this sort of thing.
I guess we’ll see how this goes, though.
In any case, I think that will do it for this entry. Here are some pictures of my newly mounted art.
“Kiki,” my Nagelesque portrait of Kirsten Dunst, got the sweet spot above the mantle, as it’s one of my favorites of the various images I did in the style of Patrick Nagel a while back. FYI, the bowls and the clock on the mantle were made by my dad, who is EXTREMELY talented. Eventually, if/when I ever get an LCD TV, everything will have to be moved elsewhere.
Though it probably deserves a more prominent display, the picture of Rachael Leigh Cook as Death really couldn’t be hung anywhere other than in my bedroom. After all, it’s as close as I’ll ever come to having RLC – or probably any woman – in my bedroom.
I now have a picture of Death up on my wall, but I have yet to find a permanent home for my Death action figure.
Another Disappointment For The Pile
So here is a picture I did of Olympic figure skater Sasha Cohen.
It isn't nearly as good as I would have liked it to be, but I guess that's par for the course.
There are supposed to be all kinds of sequins and whatnot all over the outfit, as befits a figure skating outfit, but that just wasn't going to happen in my picture.
On Friday someone (a woman) was talking about how everyone has been going on about Sasha Cohen. While not exactly complaining, she was wondering what the big deal is.
Despite my artistic shortcomings, I think I've done a pretty good job of rendering "the big deal."
First of all, you can see that she's cute, second of all, look at the tone and definition of those legs, and third, look at the pose.
So while it's hardly a "gold medal" showing on my part, I think that, in terms of visually explaining the fascination some people, such as myself, might have with her, I at least earned a bronze.
It isn't nearly as good as I would have liked it to be, but I guess that's par for the course.
There are supposed to be all kinds of sequins and whatnot all over the outfit, as befits a figure skating outfit, but that just wasn't going to happen in my picture.
On Friday someone (a woman) was talking about how everyone has been going on about Sasha Cohen. While not exactly complaining, she was wondering what the big deal is.
Despite my artistic shortcomings, I think I've done a pretty good job of rendering "the big deal."
First of all, you can see that she's cute, second of all, look at the tone and definition of those legs, and third, look at the pose.
So while it's hardly a "gold medal" showing on my part, I think that, in terms of visually explaining the fascination some people, such as myself, might have with her, I at least earned a bronze.
Monday, February 20, 2006
Nothing Day
It was my intention to not go anywhere today. I’d made it most of the day before I realized that I really, really didn’t want to eat anything that could be prepared from what I had on hand, so if I wanted dinner I was going to have to venture out into the world.
For the past few days I’ve been noticing something sort of “off” about the way my car has been handling. I kept meaning to check it out, but would forget whenever I parked the car.
Last night’s drive home from work, though, was especially bothersome, so when I got home I did think to look things over. I found that my rear driver side tire was extremely low on air.
So when I was venturing out today I checked it out again and it looked like it was damn near flat. I opted to make a quick dash to Super Target to get that fix-a-flat stuff, but once I’d bought it and got out to the car I saw that it didn’t actually appear to be totally flat, just very low.
I went over to a gas station, aired it up, ran in to Shoppers to grab a pizza, and came out to see that tire was still filled with air, so if there’s a leak, it’s a very slow one.
Tony, a guy who used to work with me and who now sells insurance, contacted me a bit ago to let me know that a client of his needs someone to design a logo for his HVAC business, so he referred him to me.
I’m really not sure what to charge. I’ve checked out some sites on the Web, but I haven’t really been able to find any sort of average rate.
I guess I’ll figure something out, though.
Much of the time that I spent holed up today was used to work on a new picture, which I didn’t finish. I was very close to being done when I sort of took a step back and decided that I didn’t like it at all, so it was pretty much a total waste of time.
In the past couple weeks I’ve actually started working on three different pictures besides the one I started today, two of which I’ve pretty much just abandoned, though after I got back home I started doing some more work on the third, so there’s at least a slight chance that I’ll finish it.
Anyway, as you can see my day has been extremely uneventful, so there would be little point in continuing further.
For the past few days I’ve been noticing something sort of “off” about the way my car has been handling. I kept meaning to check it out, but would forget whenever I parked the car.
Last night’s drive home from work, though, was especially bothersome, so when I got home I did think to look things over. I found that my rear driver side tire was extremely low on air.
So when I was venturing out today I checked it out again and it looked like it was damn near flat. I opted to make a quick dash to Super Target to get that fix-a-flat stuff, but once I’d bought it and got out to the car I saw that it didn’t actually appear to be totally flat, just very low.
I went over to a gas station, aired it up, ran in to Shoppers to grab a pizza, and came out to see that tire was still filled with air, so if there’s a leak, it’s a very slow one.
Tony, a guy who used to work with me and who now sells insurance, contacted me a bit ago to let me know that a client of his needs someone to design a logo for his HVAC business, so he referred him to me.
I’m really not sure what to charge. I’ve checked out some sites on the Web, but I haven’t really been able to find any sort of average rate.
I guess I’ll figure something out, though.
Much of the time that I spent holed up today was used to work on a new picture, which I didn’t finish. I was very close to being done when I sort of took a step back and decided that I didn’t like it at all, so it was pretty much a total waste of time.
In the past couple weeks I’ve actually started working on three different pictures besides the one I started today, two of which I’ve pretty much just abandoned, though after I got back home I started doing some more work on the third, so there’s at least a slight chance that I’ll finish it.
Anyway, as you can see my day has been extremely uneventful, so there would be little point in continuing further.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Sunday...Too...Boring...To...Type...At...Normal...Speed
The Internet is boring.
Billions of pages and nothing worth looking at. None of the sites I normally visit has been updated today.
So to spare you that problem I'm updating Threshold.
You're welcome.
As you've no doubt guessed, it's a very slow and boring day here at work.
To make matters worse, all of the candy machines are out of Twix bars (Bastards!).
But at least I'll be free for a few days after today is (eventually) over.
The only real excitement for the day came when I went out to pick up lunch (Brian and Scott were both too wimpy to venture out into the 19 degree weather. 19 degrees? That's positively balmy!
We got our lunch from Reston Kabob. I got a Kobeeda, which is the thing I usually get from there. It's damned tasty, but the only thing about it is that it looks like nothing so much as, well, a giant turd.
The first order of business before eating it is to cut it up into smaller pieces that eliminate the resemblance. Once that's accomplished - and if you can get over your initial revulsion - it's good eating.
The guy who runs Reston Kabob is an older Greek gentleman who, with his perpetually arched eyebrow, looks as though he's simultaneously pissed off and confused.
Possibly he's confused about why he's so pissed off. Not sure on that score, so I'm just as confused as he is, though not quite so pissed off.
Yesterday we'd hoped to have the highlight of our day be listening to Michelle from You Can't Make It Up on a talk show on XM Satellite Radio. Brian has an XM subscription, so he logged in to the online version only to find that the channel the show was on isn't available online, which sucks.
In any case, I can't really see myself writing about much else but how bored I am, so I suppose I will spare you that.
You'r welcome.
Billions of pages and nothing worth looking at. None of the sites I normally visit has been updated today.
So to spare you that problem I'm updating Threshold.
You're welcome.
As you've no doubt guessed, it's a very slow and boring day here at work.
To make matters worse, all of the candy machines are out of Twix bars (Bastards!).
But at least I'll be free for a few days after today is (eventually) over.
The only real excitement for the day came when I went out to pick up lunch (Brian and Scott were both too wimpy to venture out into the 19 degree weather. 19 degrees? That's positively balmy!
We got our lunch from Reston Kabob. I got a Kobeeda, which is the thing I usually get from there. It's damned tasty, but the only thing about it is that it looks like nothing so much as, well, a giant turd.
The first order of business before eating it is to cut it up into smaller pieces that eliminate the resemblance. Once that's accomplished - and if you can get over your initial revulsion - it's good eating.
The guy who runs Reston Kabob is an older Greek gentleman who, with his perpetually arched eyebrow, looks as though he's simultaneously pissed off and confused.
Possibly he's confused about why he's so pissed off. Not sure on that score, so I'm just as confused as he is, though not quite so pissed off.
Yesterday we'd hoped to have the highlight of our day be listening to Michelle from You Can't Make It Up on a talk show on XM Satellite Radio. Brian has an XM subscription, so he logged in to the online version only to find that the channel the show was on isn't available online, which sucks.
In any case, I can't really see myself writing about much else but how bored I am, so I suppose I will spare you that.
You'r welcome.
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