Your Most Burning Question Answered!

I’m sure the question that’s foremost on everyone’s mind is “How did the new sheets work out for Jon last night?”
They were okay. Not quite as soft as the old ones were, but also not quite so mysteriously ripped to shreds.
Of course, given that we’ve been having some cold weather of late and that in an effort to save money (and to avoid the hot curling iron smell that comes from the electric baseboard heaters), I’ve been dressing in layers to stay warm rather than turning the heat on, so, just as with the old ones, the coldness of the sheets as my skin first came into contact with them elicited the standard “Gah!” from me as I got into bed.
I was supposed to hear from the recruiter for the job I was really interested in by today.
That didn’t happen.
Serves me right, I suppose, for getting my hopes up (and for thinking that I could work out a deal with the Universe).
Of course, maybe something just came up and she’ll contact me next week, but given how things have been going I’m beginning to think that maybe I’m not quite so employable as I’d thought my experience and education made me.
Not much else I can do but keep applying for jobs, I guess.
Still, that was exactly the thing that made this particular prospect seem so promising: I didn’t actually apply for the job.
The recruiter just got a copy of my résumé (from the company representative who had been at the job fair last week) and contacted me because she thought I’d be a good fit (and seemed to be even more convinced of that after I’d talked to her).
Oh well.
The squirrel is still ranging around up in the attic. I went up and put some more tempting bait (pieces of bread with peanut butter on them) in and around the trap.
I really hate going up into the attic because as soon as I do I begin to itch from all of the insulation floating around and have to take a shower as soon as I come down.
This leads me to wonder why it is that spending just a couple of minutes up there forces me to have to recreate the decontamination scene from Silkwood, yet it doesn’t seem to bother the squirrel. I mean, I was up there for only a couple of minutes – albeit slightly longer than should have been necessary, as I ended up springing the trap while re-baiting it and had to set it again – and it’s not like I’m actually frolicking around in the insulation like the little rodent is. I know the stuff can be deadly because years ago we had a cat that chose a bunch of insulation as the place to give birth to her kittens, and the insulation killed all of them before we actually found them (one survived, briefly, but eventually died after being removed from the insulation).
Again, oh well.
Earlier today my computer started acting a little wacky (no sound on some video files, Media Center flat out refusing to play some videos, memory usage through the roof, etc.), so I decided to reboot it.
After the reboot I got a message telling me that I wasn’t connected to my network, and it wouldn’t even allow me to access the Network Control Panel.
So I went for reboot number two.
Same thing.
After a few frustrated attempts at getting into the Network Control Panel – and after confirming on my laptop that there was no problem with the network itself – I realized that all of the weirdness had started after I’d finally given in to the little nag screen that came up every time I launched it and updated to the latest version of AIM.
First you lay me off, then you hose my computer; thanks AOL!
So I did a system restore to a point before I made the update and everything was back to normal.
The thing that really annoyed me the most, though, wasn’t that the new AIM trashed my network settings, it was the damn screen nagging me to upgrade to the new version.
When I launch a program, I’m doing so because I want to actually use it. At that moment I’m not particularly interested in whether or not there’s an update available.
Fuck your update; I just want to use the program.
I hardly think I’m alone in this regard. Most people launch programs because they want to use them.
At least Firefox, which seems to have an update available every damn time you launch it, gives you the option to run the update the next time you launch – most other programs, like AIM, only give you the option to update now or be reminded again the next time you launch - but even that’s a pain in the ass.
The time to mention that updates are available is when I’m closing the program. The fact that I’m closing it means that I’m no longer using it, therefore your stupid update won’t be interfering with what I’m trying to do.
And when you do choose to run the update, you generally get a message at some point saying “Oh my god, you can’t update me while I’m running! What the hell were you thinking? Close me!”
I understand that it may not be possible to update some files while they’re in use, but why pop up an error message at me? As it is, I can’t actually use the damn program anyway because the stupid update is running, so just quit your bitching and close the program your damn self as part of the installation process.
I just can’t fathom the mentality behind this kind of shit. Most software developers (and their bosses) are, at some point, also software end-users for at least some programs, so how hard can it be to figure out that this kind of nonsense is a barrier to use and annoying as hell?
Whether you believe that the adhere to it or not, Google has as its motto “Don’t be evil.” I think that software companies should have a similar motto: “Don’t be an idiot.”
(Oh, and if you could write software that doesn’t hose people’s systems, that’d be super, too.)

Sometimes The Universe Even Punches Me With My Own Fists And Says, "Stop Hitting Yourself!"

So last night’s trip down memory lane led me to receive, via e-mail, a response that I sort of expected to receive from at least one person: look up Jen and contact her.
There are a few problems with this idea, most of which stem from the fact that the whole thing happened over 14 years ago.
While I’m reasonably certain that, at the time, the developing attraction was mutual, I doubt that I made as much of an impression on her as she did on me because a) I’m Jon, and therefore don’t make that kind of impression on anyone b) it was 14 years ago, so even if I did make a big impression on her back then, she has no doubt forgotten me. Most people who aren’t Jon and therefore don’t commit what are essentially insignificant events – and people – to memory the way that I do can hardly be expected to recall a casual acquaintance from more than a decade ago.
Then there’s the whole creep factor – what woman anywhere wants to have some random guy she kind of knew 14 years ago looking her up and contacting her out of the blue?
Then there’s the simple fact that her last name may no longer be the same.
Also, while being five years older than I am wasn’t a big deal when I was 20-21, now it would mean that she’d be a 40 year-old hag (I kid, I kid.).
I’m sure these could all be written of as me making excuses, but even if they are just excuses – though I say they are simply practical considerations – they’re still good enough excuses to keep me from trying to track her down.
(Besides, let’s say for the sake of argument that I did look her up: none of the matches I found were actually her. Hypothetically speaking, of course.)
Today I got a call from yet another recruiter for yet another contract job, though this one would pay better than most of the contract jobs I’ve been contacted about.
I’m still holding out hope that I’ll hear from the recruiter about that other job, as, despite the fact that it would involve actually working five days a week. I haven’t heard anything more on it, but the phone conversation went well, and she told me that the person I’d actually be working for liked my résumé, so I haven’t given up hope yet, especially since she said that I should be hearing from her by Friday.
This morning I finally went out to buy some sheets to replace the mysteriously shredded set I had. I’m not really thrilled with them, but it was the least objectionable set I could find. There were some others that were a little nicer, but they wouldn’t have matched my existing comforter set as well as the set I bought, though I’d really like to know at what point in my life I started caring about things like whether or not my sheets matched my comforter.
I suppose it started when I finally began making enough money to be able to afford to care about things like that. Apparently even though I’m no longer in that financial state I’m still in that mental state.
Oh well; at least I have new, freshly-laundered sheets to sleep in tonight.
Apart from buying new sheets and talking to the latest recruiter (and my mother), the only major event of the day was me taking the time to sit down and read the comics I bought yesterday. I still haven’t gotten used to the idea that I have to actually set aside time to read my comics rather than bringing them in with me to read at work on Saturdays, as I still haven’t gotten used to the idea that I don’t work.
*Sigh* Hopefully that will change soon enough.
I’ve actually attempted to make a deal with the Universe that would ensure that I get the job I want, but I doubt that it’ll go for it.
What are the terms of the deal? Well, if I get the job I want, I won’t be needing the services of the hot recruiter I met with the other day, therefore she won’t have the “it would be unprofessional” defense were I to ask her out, therefore I’m free to ask her out and the Universe can laugh its ass off when she shoots me down in flames. That way I get a job and the Universe can take delight in the latest crushing blow to my ego. It’s Win-Win.
Of course, the Universe tends to prefer Win-Lose deals, so it may prevent me from getting the job and then goad me into asking her out anyway so that in the end I can feel doubly rejected, and the Universe can say, “Ha ha! You don’t get the job or the girl!”
Big dumb mean Universe.