I Hate Delaware

This "observations from the drive back" post has been in draft mode since Monday.

The drive back from NJ was rather... hellish. I left the house a little after 2pm, though I didn't get really get moving until 15 minutes later, that being the amount of time waiting in line for $2.03/gallon gas (12 cents cheaper than the station next door.)

Heading down on the NJ Turnpike, it started slowing down after the merge, as it typically does.

I passed the time by singing along with my Beltable Burn CD mix, which is composed of songs that I think I can sing -- there's a lot of Fountains of Wayne, Paul Simon, They Might Be Giants.

I used my phone earpiece to record myself, a kind of car karaoke experiment.

It turns out that those songs I think I can sing? Not so much.

I only had luck with a few songs from the Swingers soundtrack. I guess I'm not cut out for rock and roll.

Anyway, I tuned in to the turnpike traffic advisory radio & expected to hear about the usual delays at the Exit 1 tolls, with the usual alternate route suggestion of route 195 west to 295 south.

As alternates go, it's a pretty nice drive. Scenic, and never as crowded as the 2-lane southern stretch of the Turnpike.

I was kind of surprised to hear that because of big delays at the Delaware Memorial Bridge, they were routing people through Philly -- 195 west to 295 north.

295 north turns into 95 south, which is kind of confusing.

Anyway, Pennsylvania was pretty easy.

The lines at the Delaware tolls was brutal; since I had plenty of time to look at the map, I decided to bail and took 896 north to 2 west. This goes right through the University of Delaware.

It was pretty much all 2-lane at this point, so I settled back for a long, slow, dark drive on a succession of small roads through small towns.

Route 2 turned into 273, which takes you past Blue Ball Road (a road that I have travelled down many times), then to route 1 and the town of Rising Sun, which I have always wondered is as pretty as its name.

It's not, but that's okay.

Route 1 keeps going, through the town of Conowingo and across a hydroelectric dam of the same name.

It gradually heads towards Baltimore -- just head towards the pink sky from the city lights.

Eventually, it hits 695 around Baltimore (I like 695 around Baltimore, taking the Key Bridge, especially at night. The only thing is that there's still construction going on, so it's down to one lane in certain stretches. Really narrow one lane, which is fun when it's dark and raining. High pucker factor.), and then back into the rat race on 95.

Wrong Job?

I'm watching the Duke vs. UNC-G game on TV.

It's a Raycom/Jefferson Pilot game. The color man is Bobby Cremins (formerly head coach of Georgia Tech).

I think he would be better off coaching somewhere.

Nose Job

I was wondering why the bridge of my nose was hurting.

Apparently, one of the nose pads on my glasses tore off some time last night.

I cannibalized one of the pads from an older pair until I can get another.

Toe Job

At home last night, I managed to stub my toe against a side table.

"Stub" sounds so trivial. It was actually more like a kick.

Alcohol may have been a factor.



Photo Notes:

* This gave me chance to play with the Macro setting on my camera

* I need to trim my toe hair

Desktop Organization, Courtesy of Windows

Windows XP has a feature designed to help you keep your desktop neat and orderly.

When you get past a certain number of icons on your desktop, XP will thoughtfully hide new items, by displaying them off the visible portion of the screen.

It's quite thoughtful of them, actually.

It's the Little Things...

Here's to the following items:

* "Beers of the World" Sampler 8-Packs

* '24' Reruns

* Unspecified neighbor's open Wi-Fi connections

Dumb Things From Holiday-mas

* We went to Mass at 10:30. Mom still thinks it's 1986, when you had to come really early, or else you had to park 5 blocks away and then stand in the back. It's not, as I keep reminding her.

* I got my mom a can opener. An ergonomic can opener, but a can opener nonetheless. (That's not the dumb part, as my mom is really hard to shop for.)

I thought it was a side-cut can opener, but it's not.

* My sister (and I, after the fact) got mom and dad a Mac Mini, to replace the ancient Windows 2000 laptop they'd had. They already had a wireless mouse -- unfortunately, the keyboard that we have here is serial, not USB. So we couldn't finish setting it up.

Merry Holiday

Merry Christmas to all, and to all... go wrap your presents, slacker.

Dumb Things From I-95

Drove up to the homestead Saturday morning, instead of my usual Friday night.

Got a late start (mostly because of the, um, alternate Friday night activities), so I was afraid I was going to run into traffic from the football game, but it was pretty light all the way through.

* The motto for Baltimore's Live 106.5 is the best hits of the "'90s, 80s, and now."

That's an awful lot of skipping around.

It's not alphabetical, it's not chronological, and it's not done for alliterative reasons.

Oh, and I recommend you don't visit the Live 106.5 Web site (http://www.mix1065.fm/). They've got non-closeable flash video ads, with loud, non-muteable audio, running in the lower right corner of the main page. So far, I've seen a lawyer and Ray Lewis (hawking some protein drink).

* Passed a pickup truck, apparently owned by a personal trainer. He had a little mailbox-thing mounted on the back of the cab, marked "Take One" and presumably filled with brochures.

Unfortunately, I didn't have a passenger, so I couldn't.

Meat and Cheese, 12/21/05 Edition

Periodically, a bunch of us old-skool AOLers (mostly alumni at this point) get together for meat and cheese at a local themed franchise steak eatery.

We swap the same old stories, slag the same old people and generally wallow in a pit of shared memories.

It's a pretty good time.

Cameras are not normally permitted at these events, but I was able to sneak this photo:

That's Shawn, Michelle, Mike, Jason and me. Incidentally, this photo features the three original AOL Webmasters.

I think this was Michelle's first Meat & Cheese.

Click the photo or this link to get the 800 pixel wide version.

Photo-wise, I only took out the redeye -- we really are that good-looking.

Shortly afterwards, though, AOL stopped hiring solely on the basis of appearance.

Hair Shirt Redux

I did it again. Pulled what I thought was a clean shirt from the closet, only to find shortly thereafter that I had worn it during a haircut.

Point of clarification -- I usually only re-wear outer layers, like sweaters. Unless I am really lazy.

Fight the Flush

Like about half of Asians, I suffer from the dreaded Asian Flush, which means that I lack a certain enzyme, aldehyde dehydrogenase2, causing me to have trouble breaking down acetaldehyde, a toxin that is a byproduct of the metabolism of alcohol yadda yadda yadda snooze snore bleh (click the wikipedia link, that's what it's there for.)

What that means is that, after a drink or two, I turn very red. (Once, when I was in Cancun, I had a beer with lunch. I was already flushed from the sun -- after the cervezas, I was purple.) Also, it means I am a cheap drunk, with the whole heart-pounding, head-spinning, got my drunk on going on.

Fortunately, there is a workaround -- a Pepcid AC antacid, taken shortly before (or even during) drinking, seems to counteraffect the flush. No one is really sure why -- the active ingredient is Famotidine, but anecdotal evidence seems to indicate that it works.

From personal experience, that is probably why I feel the effects of a few drinks more at home, when I don't take a Pepcid, than I do when I am out and about.

This is why you can usually find me with Pepcid (or the generic equivalent) in my glove compartment, keychain pill fob, jacket pocket, shaving kit and man-purse/laptop bag.

Break Fast With Benjamin

This morning, waiting in line to pay for my breakfast -- coffee and egg sandwich, with a rather generous side of bacon -- I was struck by two things:

* My typical breakfast experience in New York City consisted of popping in at any given deli and getting 2 eggs (fried) on a roll (kaiser), with a cup of coffee.

I especially liked how the counterperson would invariably turn the question "Salt, pepper, ketchup?" into one word.

* It takes a certain kind of person to pay for a $3.62 breakfast with a hundred dollar bill.

Specifically, it would be the person ahead of me in line, forcing the cashier to go to the back office and get bills so she could break his benjamin.

Simple Taste

I disproportionately enjoy Campbell's recipe for the One Dish Chicken and Rice Bake.

It is drop dead simple to make, since all you need is a can of cream of ______ soup, rice, chicken and rudimentary spices and thus is a staple of both harried homemakers and swinging bachelors.

I have two theories as to why I like it so much:

1. It harks back to my childhood, taking the role of comfort food.

2. I have exceedingly simple tastes.

I am inclined to go with the latter explanation.

Sink Strainer Showdown

Now is the reckoning.

Now we shall see if the $1.99 sink strainer is actually twice as good as the previous, dollar store $0.99 sink strainer.

Hellbound

Went to a combination birthday/farewell party last night.

Somehow, the topic of holy communion came up. Some of the variations of communion wafers that were mentioned:

* Low-Carb Communion
* Garlic-Flavored Communion (The body of Christ... is delicious!)
* Scoop-shaped Communion, with optional guacamole/salsa bar
* Crouton Communion

In other news, the swear words that I keep forgetting were Samoan, not Tongan.

Also, at some point, I made a reference to the Turing test.

I have no recollection as to what the context was.

Observations From Last Night

* Contrary to conventional wisdom, howling, Wolfman Jack-style, at women crossing the street from the window of your SUV has a low probability of anything resembling success. (Unless your goal is having them ask, "Did they just howl at us?" in which case you were 100% successsful).

* Why is the CSI: New York opening theme song "Baba O'Reilly"? There are other Who songs that have lyrics much closer to the theme of the show; say, "The Seeker" (although I hear this is going to be used for CSI: East Lansing).

CSI: Miami uses "Won't Get Fooled Again", which also works. I had to look that up.

* Galaxy Hut now has a cocktail style three-in-one arcade machine. Well, it was there two weeks ago, but it's plugged in now. (It also has a MySpace.)

The machine features Galaga, Galaxian and Space Invaders. Young hipsters playing Galaga, here's a tip -- let the mother alien thing capture your first ship, so you can recapture it and get double-shot firepower.

Oh, and it was very Guyville in there. Like Ladies Night, only without any ladies.

Wash 'n' Wear (Minus the Wash)

When taking a shirt from the "Previously worn, but not dirty" pile, make sure it was not previously worn during a haircut.

Bad, Worse, Worst, Ludicrous

Bad: A telemarketer calls.

Worse: To your cell phone.

Worst: It's a recording.

Ludicrous: It's in Spanish.

Meat Is Good Food

I've been eating a lot (well, for me) of red meat lately.

I've always been kind of flexible, considering ham and pork to be on the border.

Haven't eaten a lot of beef, though.

This week alone, I've had taco bell tacos, a cheese steak, and some roast beast today.

Maybe I'm anemic again.

Tile Job

Selecting "Tile Windows" is never, ever helpful.

Heads Up

I finally customized the header graphic that came with this blog template (Snapshot Sable).

I stuck to the same basic structure, just updated a few elements:

* Battery Life: Increased to two-thirds. Very important.
* Number: Increased from the familiar 24 to the ritualistically more important 23.
* Map: Changed the unfamiliar subway map with a map of the western portion of the DC Metro, which I know very well.
* Photo: Replaced the pic of leaves and berries with a shot of the Shanghai skyline from our China trip. The skyline fit the cutout pretty good, though I had to trim the top part of the Oriental Pearl Tower.
* Most importantly, I replaced the illegible text next to the 24 with slightly less illegible text. Here's the translation:

I believe the children are our future. Teach them well... let them lead the way. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Let's just be friends. I'm gonna need a hacksaw. Impatient cow: Moo. You're not in this for the hunting, are you?

All of it means something.

Down the Drain

If you ever find a five-year-old bottle of Dr. Pepper (especially one whose sides have gone triangular with escaped carbonation), don't try to drink it.

Just pour it out.

I Am Easily Suggestible

The Idaho potato people have a television spot extolling the virtues of potatoes and its premiere position in the new FDA Food Pyramid.

The spot features fitness celebrity Denise Austin (who should not be confused with fellow fitness celebrity John Basedow).

I have a potato nuking in the microwave as we speak.

Things I Should Throw Directly Into the Trash to Save Time

* Broccoli

* Lettuce

* The newsprint portions of the Sunday Washington Post

* Apples

* Kiwis

* The three only-nominally-different Reston weekly newspapers (which each run essentially the same stories, crime briefs and letters to the editor)

Reminder

Laptops should not be used as food trays.

Oh, So Pretty

From an IM conversation, mere moments ago. We were trying to schedule a meeting:

Them: hey joe - let me know when you have some time to go over the [thing]
Me: I'm pretty today
Me: um
Me: pretty open

I blame lag.

How to Microwave Frozen Trader Joe's Shrimp Dumplings

1. Briefly rinse frozen shrimp dumplings under running water.
2. Place dumplings in microwaveable bowl. Cover.
3. Microwave on high for 1-2 minutes.
4. Go to bed after forgetting you were making dumplings.
5. Open the microwave 2 days later and try not to vomit as you throw the dumplings into the garbage.
6. Shortly afterwards, fish around in the garbage so you can double-bag the dumplings because garbage day is two days away.

Thankful

The drive back from Thanksgiving was pretty annoying.

It would have been even more annoying if the car slightly behind me in the lane to my left hadn't stopped when the minivan trying to merge onto Route 7 in bumper-to-bumper traffic decided it would be smart to bolt forward and cut me off, forcing me to switch lanes.

As it was, it was annoying enough that I only managed a friendly beep on the horn, instead of leaning on it, then reaching back for the tire iron.

An Open Letter to the Woman Driving the Jeep Liberty at the Giant

Dear Woman Driving the Jeep Liberty at the Giant,

It is customary to indicate one's intent to change direction by using the turn signal prior to turning.

This task is greatly facilitated when one is not holding a cell phone up to one's face.

Also, you're a stupid bitch cow.

Regards,

Joelogon

I Hate Pumping Iron

I've been sleeping in my spare bedroom for about a week now.

It would be a guestroom, except I don't have guests.

This is because there are about 4 loads of laundry (clean) that need ironing, laying on my bed.

I hate ironing.

Something That's Been Bothering Me...

Just what the hell is so easy about Sunday morning, anyway?

It's Snowing. Everybody Panic!

It's been snowing here in the lovely DC Metro area -- it's going to peak during the evening rush, which should be wonderful.

We're expecting a whole three inches by tomorrow morning.

People around here don't take snow too well.

Whenever there's a hint of snow around here, it's customary for people here to run around in circles screaming, then stampede to the supermarket to get toilet paper, milk and bread.

It kind of sucks if you actually need to buy milk, as I do.

New Album Up: Nov. 16 at Galaxy Hut

A few Wednesdays ago at Galaxy Hut, with the usual gang of idiots.

Here's Jenny, in the service of her fellow man.

I took most of the photos with my finger over the flash, which produces some neat effects (It's a trick I learned from Teepee).

It also helps reduce the bright flash in dark bar annoyance factor.

Scots-Irish-Asian Connection

Some Irish fiends of mine who just saw the latest Harry Potter movie told me last night (rather emphatically) that if I were to cultivate a Scottish (or, to a lesser extent, Irish) accent, I would be irresistable.

Of course, they meant even more irresistable.

Apparently, this is because the incongruity of an Asian speaking with a Scottish accent (similar to the Cho Chang role in the movie, played by Scottish-born actrress Katie Leung), is intriguing, in a way that my flat, nasal mid-Atlantic non-accent is not.

In the absence of a dialect coach, I will have to model my new accent after Groundskeeper Willy, Mike Meyers, Sean Connery, and Darrell Hammond's impression of Sean Connery on SNL's Celebrity Jeopardy sketches.

Let the panty-flinging commence!

New York Sex

I still read the New York Press, just like I read the Duke Chronicle -- so I can pretend that I still know what's going on.

I haven't really been paying attention, but there's been a whole hoo-hah at the Press over editors and owners and publishers or some such. Since I don't actually live in New York anymore and I'm not one of the East Coast Media Elite, I don't care.

I do notice, though, that the new sex columnist, Dr. Dot, is very photo-friendly:

Unfortunately, she's not a very good writer. In fact, she's a horrible writer.

I guess I can understand that, since her original gig is massage therapist to the stars, though she's branched out to sex, love and relationship advice.

(Not to say, of course, that beautiful people can't be talented. There are lots of beautiful, talented people. Oh, how we hate them.)

Contrast that to the previous Press sex columnist, Judy McGuire (a.k.a. Dategirl), who was a good writer, but never seemed to write anything particularly interesting (unless you had an unhealthy fixation on all things Judy McGuire).

I guess Amy Sohn, the original NY Press sex columnist (the Press was relatively late to the chick sex columnist game) was probably the best of the three.

But of course, none of them hold a candle to Dan Savage.

Anyway, back in my day (and by the way, get off my lawn!), we were so scared of talking about sex that we had to get our sex advice over the wireless set from a little old grandma (who could put a bullet in your head from 300 meters, so no funny stuff), Dr. Ruth.

Nowadays, you kids have it easy, with your Internet and your high schoolers having oral sex at high noon in the middle of crowded sidewalks and every college newspaper's female sex columnist ("Ooh, it's a girl! And she talks about how she has S-E-X!") who thinks she's Carrie Bradshaw, bravely tackling the subject of vibrators or rimjobs or whatever in a manner that is completely not trite.

A Pointy-Headed Moment

My boss and I had a meeting yesterday with one of the execs (well, the people of one of the execs), to talk about stuff.

One of those folks there is fairly new to the company, and pretty well-known in his or her own right because of events in the not too distant past.

So, we're winding down talking about our stuff, when my boss asks this person what he or she did before coming to the company.

It was pretty obvious he didn't have a clue who he or she was.

I hope the look on my face didn't give too much away.

When we left the meeting, I told him who he or she was.

He was appropriately chastened and self-flagellating.

I Beg to Differ

Creativity linked to sexual success.

"The study also showed that the average number of sexual partners increased as creative output went up. What the artists produce draws attention to them, which seems to enhance their sexual allure."

I'm Thankful For...

Unsecured wireless networks within range of the parents' homestead.

From Last Week's Party

* There were a lot of cameras at the party. At one particular moment, a camera was passed: "Take our picture!" The recipient (a woman, as it happened) complied, and was about to take a picture, when the subjects said "Turn the camera around!" meaning they wanted the photo oriented portrait-style (vertically) rather than landscape (horizontally).

The photographer then proceded the rotate the camera: 45, 90 (okay), 120 (wait), 180 degrees.

Upside down.

I laughed loudly and rather obnoxiously.

* Overheard: "Flesh-nami"

* I posed the question: Does the "Irish Curse" have anything to do with St. Patrick driving the snakes out of Ireland?

* I learned how to say a bad word in Tongan, but I forget what it was.

Oh. My. God. (Boooooyyyyyyyyyeeeeee!)

Flavor Flav is doing a Miller Lite commerical.

One Million Bottlebags, indeed.

Mashup Etiquette Question

Here's a question about Mashups:

How far can you go to make one song fit with another?

I was listening to a mashup show on my local terrestrial radio establishment; it took me more than a few moments to realize that one of the songs in the mashup was The Knack's My Sharona, only slowed down considerably -- it was practically a dirge.

The other song was some Franz Ferdinand song I don't know very well.

Apparently it's Do You Want My Sharona, by DJ Zebra.

It just seems like a breach of etiquette.

Dude, Just Stop Talking

Update: Got another e-mail from the fellow with gender identity issues:

In that case I blame it on the picture. As it stands, the hair only adds to what amounts to be a very feminine appearance. This is mostly due to the high, prominent cheeckbones and the sarp, well rounded chin.

Of course, upon magnificantion I see the Adam's Apple, so... it's a trap!

So hey, killer look, apologies for the confusion, I did not mean to slight you when writing either e-mail. But hey, without paying attention to detail... I'd hit it!

If I had to guess, I would say that he's a Farker (I guess I should say fellow farker, since I lurk there), because of the "it's a trap" cliche and the "I'd hit it!" (though that's pretty ubiquitous).

Also, I am very uncomfortable right now.

In the words of Heat's Michael Cheritto (played by Tom Sizemore): Stop talking, okay slick?

Rolling a Hard Four

I don't usually publish the content of mails I get, but this one made me laugh. Then I cried a little:

Stumbled across your page (regarding unrequited love) while doing some Shakespeare research. Stumbled on your blog not long there-after. What's confusing me is that, according to your picture, you are a woman and the "Platonic" page was written from an excellent male perspective. What exactly is going on?

This, of course, is Number Four.

A Costco-Benefit Analysis

Went inside Costco for the first time (under my own membership, that is) this afternoon.

Conclusion: As a singleton, I don't consume enough to take advantage of the volume discount on produce and perishables.

I mean, I could buy the stuff, but it would rot -- my freezer isn't big enough.

The prices on the other stuff aren't all that much better. The quantities are just bigger.

I will probably break even for the year, since gas is 10-15 cents cheaper. The photo printing, tires and other services may come in handy, too. But on the core services, probably not.

An Open Letter to the Canoodling Couple at Trader Joes

Dear Canoodling Couple at Trader Joes,

When standing at the refrigerated section (in front of the pre-packaged sushi, wraps, and sandwiches) while making your kissy-faces and talking your baby talk, please adjust your canoodling to accomodate people who are actually trying to shop.

Not being an unreasonable, unromantic, or coldhearted person, I took an extra lap down the chips and nuts aisle and back around the produce section to give you some time, but you were still at it.

I had to hover uncomfortably close before you finally moved down a few yards.

As far as I know, you're still there.

I enjoy the ambiance and atmosphere at Trader Joe's, but come on.

Regards,

Joelogon

Why Con Air Is a Leading Contender for the Worst Movie of All Time

Any reasonable moviegoer will know that Con Air is a horrible, horrible movie.

It's loud and obnoxious, makes no sense, is poorly written with easily avoidable plot holes, and is just outrageously and unapologetically stupid.

But that's not why it's one of the worst movies I can think of.

Now, I'm not a Jerry Bruckheimer hater. He's produced some solid flicks and TV series.

I also don't have much of an opinion of director Simon West.

(Michael Bay, on the other hand, is an abomination. He is a leading reason why I think all people named Bay must be sent away to reeducation camps. Well, him and Jim Bay.)

The reason why it's one of the worst movies I can think of is because it's a phenomenal waste of a stellar cast.

We've got Nicholas Cage. John Malkovich. John Cusack. Steve Buscemi (who is actually pretty good). Ving Rhames. Oh, and Dave Chappelle, Colm Meaney, Mykelti Williamson, & Danny Trejo.

With a cast that good, to be in a movie that retarded, is criminal.

And yeah, I did see it in the theater.

It was only a matinee, fortunately, or else I might have hurt someone (else).

Cable Internet Is Faster

My regional cable monopoly's high-speed internet access division is a lot faster with the disabling of service (via DNS redirect) for outstanding balances than the television side.

Thankfully, there's online and phone bill pay.

Lining My Pockets

I found the blue-handled Benchmade Mini-Griptilian 555 (with the modified sheepsfoot blade and oval opening hole) that I thought I'd lost last Thursday.

I took another look at the ratty thrift store sports jacket I'd worn that night. I'd already checked the pockets that I actually use, but it occured to me that the clip might have hitched a ride on the lining.

The thing about knives with pocket clips (or anything where the clip stays on the outside of the pocket), is that they can snag on seat belts, jackets, etc.

This was especially true because my jean pockets that evening were comparatively shallow.

Anyway, it turns out that that ratty thrift store sports jacket has an additional set of pockets on the inside, below the standard interior pockets.

The clip had snagged on one of those.

Now if I can only find my Shuffle.

Slow Down, You Move Too Fast

Was coming back from a night out in Arlington (or as I like to sometimes put it, Barlington. I'm wacky that way).

We'd started out at Galaxy Hut, which was (somewhat uncharacteristically) chock full of impossibly young hipster hotties, then headed over to Whitlow's (since they had Patron tequila, which was in high demand by certain members of the group).

I took off a little in front of 1 AM, taking my usual route back.

So, I was sitting at the intersection of Lee Highway and North Highland, waiting for the light to change. Which it did.

However, I saw a BMV SUV (I think) zooming up on Lee Highway on my right side. Quite rapidly. I stayed back in the intersection. The BMW ran the red. And when I say ran, I mean really ran -- it wasn't even close.

Now, that's not a good intersection to flout traffic laws, especially at 1 AM, because there's always a cop car in the shopping center parking lot just ahead, as well as another cruiser (don't know if it's manned or not) at the tennis courts by the intersection.

Sure enough, seconds later, a cruiser with lights and sirens pulled over the miscreant, followed by a second unmarked car, as I drove carefully by.

Jenny, I've Got Your Number (Or Not)

Last night, I was out and about, heading over to Dr. Dremo's for the Tuesday night Washington Psychotronic Film Society screening.

I was meeting up with a few folks, so I decided to give my friend Jenny a call.

I knew I had Jenny's number, since I had given it to my sister to possibly meet up in NYC.

Anyway, I dialed up the Jenny on my phone.

I could practically hear the question marks over the phone.

Wrong Jenny.

It took me a few seconds, but I finally realized what happened.

The correct Jenny's number was written on a Post-It in my wallet.

Just Kidding

Lon is under the impression that I call everyone "kid."

Lon is wrong.

Sometimes I call them "slick."

Forked

Grabbed two forks at lunch today.

A knife would have been more useful, though I managed.

The Viagra 1-2-3

Observe the following image, which was embedded in some spam.

I don't usually see these, but I was using a webmail client.

Step 1 is pretty straightforward.

Not sure what's going on in Step 2. It looks like some sort of lat exercise.

In Step 3, it seems fairly obvious that he's getting kneed in the groin by a stripper, possibly due to inappropriate, Viagra-fueled behavior in the strip club.

'Lost': Real Life Version

Recently, I have lost:

* My iPod Shuffle (I'm still hoping that this is merely misplaced.)

* A Petzl TakTikka Headlamp (also should be around the house somewhere.)

* My Benchmade Mini-Griptilian 555 pocketknife, with the blue handle. (This one I'm pretty sure fell out of my shallower-than-normal jeans pocket when I was getting out of my car in a parking lot on Thursday. Which would explain the ignored-at-the-time clattering noise.)

Geekdom: How Much Is Too Much?

I almost went to the Geek Comedy Tour 3000, which I saw in a DCist item.

It was billed as "Comedy that KNOWS Han shot first" and
"Because you actually know which Star Trek films were the really good ones." (The even ones. Including Nemesis, which wasn't that bad.)

Then I realized that I can geek out perfectly well in the privacy of my own home.

When the Canyonero Just Ain't Big Enough

It was in the 70s (that would be degrees F) yesterday, or so they tell me.

I made a spur of the moment decision to ride my bike. This first involved pumping up both tires, which are still pretty much brand-new, but were also pretty flat, since it's been a while since I rode it.

By the time I made it outside to take my token constitutional, it was about an hour from sunset and it had started to get chilly.

Anyway, I rode to Paul's house, which is just about 2.5 miles away.

I was pretty gassed by the time I got there.

I said hi to Paul -- he showed me the latest home improvement project he was working on, and then I had to head back, since I had no lights.

On the way back, I saw this big yellow wheeled thing.

At first I thought I was seeing things out of exhaustion. Then I saw it was a Hummer only much, much stupider.

It was an International CXT, the pickup/SUV that's about as big as you can get without a commercial license:

It had a big CXT sticker in the back window, just in case the driver forgot what kind of behemoth it was he was driving.

I didn't have a camera on me, so I had to use a publicity photo, in case you were under the impression that I was mountain biking in the mountains.

The Shuffle Kerfuffle

I seem to have misplaced my iPod Shuffle.

Best case scenario -- it's buried under something on my table at home.

Worst case scenario -- it's nano time.

You Can Bill Me

This may be the only time I would ever want to get my cable bill.

I need it so I can sign up for some rebates associated with my still-new broadband service.

Tongue Action

I must have bitten the side of my tongue a few days ago, as I am wont to do from time to time.

This is causing me to talk funny.

Also, it hurts. A lot.

A previous girlfriend used to like biting on my tongue.

Actually, it was more like biting and scraping, like a biological tongue scraper.

I quickly put a halt to that practice.

Almost...

Until just now, there was a better than average chance that I would have tried to go vote tomorrow morning.

Election Day is next Tuesday.

Those Who Will Not Hear

When destroying a pair of mostly-broken headphones in a fit of pique, it is prudent to ensure that you have a replacement pair on-hand first.

Stolen airline headphones with a 2.5 foot long cord don't count.

The headphones for the iPod shuffle which you (hopefully) left at home also don't count.

Subjectivity

When sending a mass e-mail that's already going to look a lot like spam because it has embedded URLs and a lot of people BCCed, it would help to include a subject line.

Photos of People I Like (or Photos I Like of People)

I was going through some of my albums (both online and not), and I put together an album of photos of people I like (or in some cases, photos I like of people).

The photos go back a couple of years (ignore the dates in the gallery, they're off). They're minimally processed, except for a few cases where I had to take out really bad redeye or forked tails.

There are also a few that I wanted to see in black and white; they're paired with their colored counterparts.

Free Digital Camera?

This is DHL's idea of a front porch delivery:



Inside was my new, yet already obsolete Canon SD200 3.2 megapixel Digital Elph.

I needed a new point and shoot to replace my S200, which has been giving me trouble with weird shutter lag, among other things. It's a cool camera, though.

The new one is teeny, with a bigger screen (that's apparently prone to cracking, though).

It got it for about the same price as I got the other one, just over $200, including a 1 gig SD card (yay, another new format), delivery pending.

I Think I Have a Squirrel

For the past couple of days, I've been awoken at 8am to noises coming from sorta outside.

It's like a scrabbling alarm clock.

If I had to guess, I would say that a squirrel or other rodent has gotten into my attic and hangs out by my soffet vents (where the eaves are).

Why 8am?

My thermostat is programmed to turn on the heat pump at 8am, to warm up my morning, so I think the noise or something related is disturbing the squirrel.

I took a half-hearted look this morning, dragging a ladder to the attic hatch and sticking my head through with one of my many flashlights (the 5-star (out of 5) rated 4AA Streamlight ProPolymer Luxeon, a very nice light for only $23 plus shipping), all the while thinking of that scene from Aliens when Hicks sticks his head up through the dropped ceiling and sees a horde of aliens crawling towards him.

Anyway, I think I will be hiring a professional to capture the intruder.

Why?

Perhaps you are not familiar with the Squirrel Cop story (Act Two) as heard on PRI's This American Life.

Even When The Left Hand Knows What the Right Is Doing

I went to the kitchenette this morning, with a bowl of uncooked grits in my left hand and my coffee mug in my right.

The coffee mug had some leftover water in it, so I moved to the sink and dumped it in.

However, in a sympathetic reaction, I also dumped the uncooked grits into the sink.

Breaking the Curse of the Cowboy Boots

I went out last night, even though I didn't really want to.

Wednesday is my usual Galaxy Hut night, but it was another late night at the office and I just wanted to go home.

But, I was wearing my cowboy boots.

They're not that cheesy; just basic black, with some dark blue arrows/devil tails.

Anyway, for some reason, they've been kind of a jinx: Whenever I wore them, I ended up not going out after work, even if I wanted to.

So, I went out just to break the curse.

Now, I'm not that superstitious...about the only thing I won't do is listen to The Donnas' Turn 21 in the car, because that's what I was listening to when I got my reckless driving ticket.

(Had I not mentioned that? It was about 2 years ago. I had a good lawyer, which is a good thing, because in Virginia, going 20 over the speed limit can be considered reckless driving, which is punishable by up to a year in jail and a $2,500 fine.)

Where was I? Oh, so Galaxy Hut was okay. I always feel old in that place, though; I don't dress hipster (I don't have very much in my wardrobe that's ironic), and my 80s clothes don't fit any more.

Yes, I Managed to Lose My Keys (Digital Edition)

For some time, I've been unable to use my Mac to access some share drives at my place of employment.

So, whenever I needed to transfer files, I had to sneakernet them (albeit with a USB flash drive -- no walking involved).

I just had a big DUH moment.

I realized that I'd never updated the network passwords in Apple's somewhat easy-to-forget-about Keychain Access Utility.

I feel pretty dumb now.

Bowling Thing I Forgot to Mention

From yesterday -- while I had a crappy series, this guy Chris (I know him by e-mail) bowled a perfect game, 300.

That's 12 strikes in a row.

It was pretty cool.

Well, That Bites

Our second-round kickall playoff game got rained out today. (Shocking!)

Not only that, but the games aren't going to be rescheduled. It's End of Season, and the team who we were supposed to play, Kick Asphaults, will be going on to regionals.

Now, granted, they're undefeated, have the largest run differential in the league, beat us pretty bad the first time around AND have won the Founder's Cup, like, 40 years running, but still.

Bowled Over

Tonight was bowling league night. It was my first time since last season (I missed last week because I was traveling).

My back still hurts, so perhaps it wasn't the best thing to be swinging a bowling ball around (even an 11-pounder). Anyway, that's my prefabricated excuse for getting a 79 the first game.

I did better the second two games (140 and 144).

I could say it was my sneaky attempt to lowball my handicap, but I would be lying.

Actually, I Think They're Mouth Breathers

Looking at this Fark thread, which is purportedly a "lateral thinking puzzle" but is really just...well, dumb, a significant portion of folks still think that people (skydivers, in this case) can breathe through their skin.

Their source isn't the usual Goldfinger, but a section of the rec.skydiving FAQ.

Reading said section proves that the pro-skin breather community is not only misinformed and dumb, but humor-impaired as well.

Camera Shy

If one is going to install digital camera importing software on the laptop one brings home, with the intention of downloading images off said camera, one should endeavor to remember to have the proprietary connector cord at the same time.

Bright Light, Dim Bulb

I discovered on Friday that my front left headlamp had burned out.

I could have sworn I'd changed it less than a year ago.

Anyway, I went and got a 2-pack of replacement headlamps (since it's cheaper and where one has gone, so will the other).

Of course, I had waited until night, though it had at least stopped raining.

It gave me a chance to try out my new River Rock 2AAA LED headlamp, a pretty neat, cheap and good headlamp available for $14.99 at Target (check out the review - 4 of 5 stars)

Since I've done it before, knew what to expect: a half hour bent over the engine (just stop that right now), contorted around the coolant reservoir and tearing up my knuckles trying to get the retaining clip back on.

I pulled out the old bulb (which was very burnt out) and put the new one in.

Surprisingly, the retaining clip went on easily. Too easily, as I should have realized immediately.

I then went to plug the wires back in, which is usually easy. Instead, I wrestled with it for about 15 minutes, with no luck.

I then took another look, and realized why the retaining clip had gone on so easily.

The bulb fits into a base attachment, which then is clipped in to the headlamp as a unit; the wires attach to the base.

I had neglected to take the base off the old bulb, which is why the clip went in easy, but the wires didn't.

It took about 10 more minutes, but I finally got the bulb changed.

As Easy as Falling Off a Chair

Troy and Monica had a Halloween party on Saturday.

It was a pretty good party.

Towards the end of the night, I was sitting down.

On a chair.

Suddenly, I wasn't sitting on the chair any more.

Woke me up pretty good.

On an unrelated note, flight suits have a lot of pockets, but most of them are unsuitable for everyday use.

Boxed Out

There's a heavy bag in the gym at work. I've been meaning to get a pair of bag gloves for a while.

I went to Sports Authority; they were having a sale, plus I have a gift card that I need to redeem.

I got the gloves -- they're the Youth model, but I have small hands and very little pride when it comes to these sorts of things, especially since One Size Fits All rarely does.

I also got a pair of handwraps, though figuring out how to tie them is going to be an entirely different matter.

I also completely forgot about using the gift card.

Kludged Search

Okey, so I never heard back from a human at Blogger about my search bar problem, so in my ham-handed, knows-just-enough-to-get-into-trouble way, I manually fixed the Blogger navbar code, and pasted it into the template. So the search works now, and as a bonus, if I want to strip out the other functionality, I can do that pretty easily.

We'll have to see about that.

Search Me

Hrm.

I added the Blogger Navbar to this here blog, so I could have the search. You know, for kids.

For some reason, though, it's searching on blogurl:www.joelogon.comblog/

I'm not sure what a comblog is, but I don't think this is one.

Socks and Ribs

First round of kickball playoffs was last night. We won pretty handily, 15-0 or so. The game ended after the 4th inning on account of time (though the following game ended up as a forfeit because one of the teams, Simply Wireless, simply failed to show up.)

I can't complain about my own performance; went 2-for-2 (scoring twice) and didn't mess up in the field.

Also, I had to slide into second, and my long socks saved me from yet another raspberry on my left leg (well, the long socks and the existing scar tissue).

There were some wacky plays, too, including one where Heather D., running from second, made it to third and then used her ninja stealth moves to sneak behind the third baseman and score.

There was more wackiness at the hot corner as well; I was coaching third on another play and held John (I think it was John) at third base...except Bryan (I think it was Bryan), who was on second, decided to keep heading to third.

Somehow, in the ensuing confusion, the ball went wild into to the sideline, and both of them scored.

Afterwards, a few of us played a pickup game with team Last Call, the team that won because the other team failed to show up.

We were messing around; on my up, I booted it, and got to second, then not for nothing made an attempt to stretch it to third. I quickly determined that, even for a scrimmage, it was a Bad Idea, so I turned tail back for second.

I was dead meat, so I ended up diving for second. Got pegged by the ball for my trouble, plus landed pretty hard on my right side, so my ribs are pretty sore right now.

Blogging Is Gay?

I was up in NYC yesterday and today for the BlogOn 2005 Social Media Summit.

Last night, there was an afterparty at Lolita's on the LES (that's "Lower East Side" for the you provincials.)

I took the M5 bus down to Houston -- the Metrocard reader was broken, so it was a free ride. (Score! Then again, it was a legitimate business expense, so it would have been paid for anyway. Boo.)

I walked down Allen the rest of the way.

I guess I should clarify that Allen is a street.

I was disturbed to see a Starbucks on the corner of Delancey and Allen.

I'm hanging out at the bar, talking with some folks. I talk to a group of appropriately LES-looking natives, and one of them asked me what was going on.

Blogging conference, I said.

Oh, he said. I thought it was some sort of gay thing.

To be fair, there was an abundance of well-dressed men at the bar on a Monday night. And no Monday Night Football on the non-existant TV.

Maybe it's true that women bloggers are underrepresented at these sorts of things.

Anecdotal evidence supports it.

As chance would have it, there was at least one native blogger at the bar.




This is a Technorati tag: BlogOn2005

More Than You Needed to Know

Went to the gym tonight.

Unfortunately, my compression shorts didn't make it into my gym bag.

Plus, I seem to have lost yet another water bottle.

Anyway, I did my workout wearing my underwear, then showered and went home... commando.

Now, a commando workout sounds like it should be off one of those "Fitness Secrets of the Navy SEALs" videos, it's probably not a good idea, as it would inconsiderate to the other exercisers.

Not to mention immodest.

Those Drinks'll Cost Ya

So there I was at the Liz Phair show at the 9:30 Club. I was up right by the speakers at the left side of the stage, which is not something I recommend unless you're wearing earplugs. Which I was.

(And not just any earplugs: This was the first time I tried my new Etymotic Research ER-20 High-Fidelity Earplugs, which are supposed to cut the decibel level without muffling or distorting the sound. They worked pretty well -- they'd better, at 7 bucks a pop.)

Anyway, there were these two girls in front of me. They were joined by a guy who brought them drinks. I'm not sure if he'd known them from before or just met them.

All of a sudden, one of the bouncers, who'd been up posted to watch the stage door, comes over and asks the girls for ID.

It was then that I noticed that they didn't have hand stamps. The 9:30 Club is all ages, but you need a hand stamp to drink.

Keep in mind, that the stamp instantly turns into an amorphous black smear the second it hits your hand, so it's not like it's an insurmountable barrier to underage drinking.

I was reminded of my long-distant college days, when we would get into frat keg parties, then find an appropriately colored dry erase marker off one of the ubiquitous door message boards and draw the incredibly-hard-to-forge hand stamp (usually the Greek letters of the frat house we were in) ourselves.

Anyway, the girls didn't have ID, so they were asked to leave.

The gentleman who brought the drinks was also asked to leave.

Since I didn't know them, it was amusing to me, particularly since it was so avoidable.

Also, my sight line was much improved after they were gone.

Napkin Entry the Next: Hair Protocol

9:35pm, backbar, continued

I'm not positive, but I think I'm already well past my "Three ma'ams and a haircut" rule, which states that after being mistaken for a female three times, it's time to go get a haircut.

Let's see:

#1. Fellow at the bar last Friday.
#2. Cashier at the Trader Joe's checkout line on Sunday.
#3. Cafeteria orker behind the counter on Tuesday.

Yeah, that's three.

Be that as it may, though, I'm letting my hair grow and leaving my luxurious tresses, so fuck it.

Napkin Entry: Upstood Citizen

(Part of an occasional series of blog entries written on napkins and transcribed.)

10/12 - 9:25pm, Backbar (basement of the 9:30 Club)

Went to the 9:30 Club to see Liz Phair, as previously threatened.

Things being what they are and me being who I am, I bought a ticket when I was at the Mike Doughty show and planned on going by myself.

Events intervened, and for a two day period, I was under the impression that I would be going with someone. As in, like, a date.

I was pretty sure it wasn't going to sell out, but to avoid any unnecessary drama and suspense, I bought a ticket online, which added $8.75 in service fees on top of a $25 ticket.

Tuesday comes around, so I call and leave a message to figure out details (or "coordinate logistics", as I actually said in a previous conversation over drinks. I was still in work mode).

Don't hear back right away, but I'm not concerned.

Call Wednesday, leave a message. Get a call back..."Sorry, I can't make it...I sent you text message earlier."

I don't do text messages. At least, not right now, on the ghetto phone with the broken antenna glued-in battery.

Anyway, to make an unnecessarily long story medium-sized, I go, unload the ticket for $20, eating the rest.

This is why I buy single tickets to shows.

Don't be That Guy.

It Was Inevitable

The day I take delivery of a 250GB Western Digital USB 2.0/FireWire external drive ($165 + shipping after rebate), Buy.com has a 320GB Ion drive of similar specs for $164 shipped.

Should I return the WD and get the Ion? Get both? Neither?

Don't Shop While Hungry

There is a reason why there is a truism that says "Don't shop when you're hungry."

Normally (say in a typical supermarket), hunger doesn't affect what I buy (at least in any substantial way).

However, Trader Joe's is a different matter, especially since they don't do sales or specials, and they have so many small and tasty selections.

Liz Phair Is a Time Traveler. And She Wants Me

I've been listening to Liz Phair's 'Exile in Guyville,' which (as previously mentioned) I bought in preparation for my upcoming VH-1 reality series, (10 Years) Behind the Music.

After careful analysis of the lyrics, I'm now convinced that Liz Phair wrote "Flower" about me.

This implies that she is
A). Capable of traveling through time (or at least able to transmit information to her 1993-self.)
B.) Infatuated (perhaps even in love) with me

In the song, she is rhapsodizing about the object (unnamed) of her infatuation. Let's analyze the relevant lyrics:

Hair's too long and in your eyes (most definitely - I easily could do one of those stupid early-90s short ponytails/topknots if I so desired.)
Your lips a perfect suck-me size (debateable)
You act like you're 14 years old. (yup)
Everything you say is so
obnoxious (usually)
funny (nearly always)
true (mostly)
and mean (occasionally)
I want to be your blowjob queen (undetermined)
You're probably shy and introspective (definitely)

Et cetera.

Don't worry Liz, if you're super lucky, I'll be at your show at the 9:30 Club in next week.

Flotation Device

Floatation is an acceptable variant of flotation, my words to the flight attendant notwithstanding.

Drinking and Drugging for Science

Here are the some of the headlines from the 1/6th page ads on page 111 of the print version of the Baltimore City Paper (which I picked up at the previously-referenced festival):

Have you used Crystal Meth?

Alcohol and Sedative Users Needed

Have You Used Club Drugs?

Drink Alcohol?

Addicted to Narcotics?

4 of the 5 were for Johns Hopkins-affiliated studies.

The other (the alcohol-only study) was for NIH.

Guess we know who parties harder.

Pre-Moistened Workout Gear

I had a great idea today at the gym: Why not sell pre-moistened workout clothes? They could come in sealed plastic bags, and it would help out with evaporative cooling and...

Oh, wait. Apparently I didn't properly tighten the cap on my water bottle on Saturday.

That explains why my gym clothes stank even before my workout.

Dumb Things From Baltimore

Went up to Bawlmer today, mostly for the Fell's Point Festival (a group of us went two years ago, but didn't see much more than the beer garden), and also to stop by Atomic Books (which I haven't been to in a few years, since it moved).

I got off to a late start, which wasn't helped when I left the house without my keys and locked myself out.

Darn.

Fortunately, I had my wallet, so I was able to use my Wegmans card to jimmy the lock.

Unfortunately, I broke my Wegmans card doing it.

Getting to Bawlmer was fairly uneventful. Really nice day, too.

Picked up a Shifty doll (one of the Happy Tree Friends) for ten bucks, among other things.

Then headed over to the festival. Parked over by Patterson Park, which is one of the few areas of Baltimore I know fairly well, due to having been to the Kinetic Sculpture Race for a couple of years.

The festival was nice. I hope the pictures will be interesting.

Oh, and I also stopped by the Sound Garden and dropped 50 bucks on used CDs and DVDs.

Coming back, I was driving back on Fleet Street. Saw a woman helping guiding her fella out of tight parallel parking space, which was nice.

Of course, while she was doing this, she was standing between the back bumper of his car and the front bumper of the car behind her, which was exceptionally stupid, unless she was trying to flatten her thighs.

Later on, on 95 South, traffic was kind of slow leading up to the 495 interchange, probably due in some part to extra beltway traffic from the [Washington football team with the racially-insensitive name] game.

I was in the 2nd from left lane, and I needed to get over one more to get on the Outer Loop (it took me a couple of years from when I first moved down hear to figure out what they meant and which way the loops went. Outer = Counterclockwise). Traffic was slow, but it had started to move more freely in the far left lane.

I'm not sure exactly what happened, but from what I heard and saw later in the rearview mirror, I think someone behind me tried to pull out from the line headed to the Outer Loop, and got clipped by a black pickup truck; I heard a plasticky-crunch and car pieces went flying by. I looked in the rear-view and saw a sedan askew across two lanes.

I'm not sure if the pickup truck stopped; I heard a traffic report on the radio later on of a single-car accident.

I would have stopped, but I wasn't involved, was already well past and the Beltway isn't exactly the best place to pull over.

Who Watches the Watchers?

A photo I used for an entry about burning my arm on an oven rack last year was used as raw material for an entry in a Fark photoshop contest on "When art and reality collide...":

Note the burn mark.

The entry took third. I believe it was due to the quality of the source material.

Hrm, apparently, this new template does not like photos larger than 400 pixels wide.

Outed

I just discovered that for the past 4 weeks, the copy template I've been pasting from for a set of message board and blog posts has contained the typo "out", where it should be "our."

The Shirt on My Back

I am only marginally less guilty of doing this myself, but I'll say the following anyway:

I will be glad when it is no longer socially acceptable for men to wear patterned long-sleeve dress shirts untucked, with the buttons done and the sleeves down.

As you can see, I'm still not so good with the iron.

Closet Communist

When my mind is in neutral, I sometimes find myself whistling the Soviet National Anthem.

However, since they repurposed the tune to be the new National Anthem of Russia, I guess I am, at worst, a gangster capitalist.

Multi-State Fluid Problems

Yesterday morning, I was preparing my grits in the office kitchenette.

(It's the one that's really small and has an inconveniently-placed I-beam in the middle of it. If there are more than two people in it at the same time, you have to tango your way around.)

Anyway, I took the bowl out of the microwave (if you fill the bowl with hot water from the spigot on the coffeemaker, you only have to nuke it for 60 seconds, tops) -- it was a chili-style bowl with a flat grab handle -- and as I was setting it down, I jostled it, causing scalding hot grits to splash over my fingers.

Fortunately, the burn spray in the first aid box works pretty good.

Then, I went to the other kitchenette to get some ice (ours doesn't have an icemaker).

Immediately after I got to my cube, I dropped the cup of ice, spilling half of it out.

The Siren Song of Ham, Salami and Provolone

Despite specifically bringing in a sandwich today, I willfully and deliberately bought a 14" Wegman's "Danny's Favorite" (a.k.a. an "Italian") sub, of which I ate half.

Damn DOMS

DOMS is Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness. It's what happens after a workout, especially when you've been slack like me and not worked out for a few months.

You're fine the next morning, then things gradually start getting tight -- say, 18-24 hours after you worked out. Not only is it soreness and tightness, but it's a whole feeling of restlessness. It's kind of annoying.

It's particularly bad when it happens in your legs, since you walk funny for a few days.

I've Been Had (or, First Taste's Free)

Apparently, Haloscan (the free comment provider I've been using) archives comments older than 4 months.

In other words, they disappear and there's no way to get to them.

At least, not without upgrading to a premium membership.

Want to see your archived comments to check if there's anything that needs saving? Upgrade to a premium membership.

After checking, I see that it does get a line in the FAQ, though I daresay that they don't go out of the way to tell you this.

Bye-bye, Haloscam. (Oooh, burn!)

Serenity Now

Firefly is one of those things that I know I should be into, but I'm just not.

Same thing with Family Guy.

Dumb Things at the Harris Teeter

Stopped by the Harris Teeter after the gym. (First time in 8 weeks or so. In the words of Mr. Cardinale, my high school chemistry teacher: "I predict pain.")

I was going to pick up a rotisserie chicken, which is pretty cheap and will last a week. Tasty too, even after you pick off the skin and drain the fat. They didn't have any left, though.

Went to the deli counter (It's open until 10pm. The whole store is open 24 hours. I like Harris-Teeter.)

They had honey smoked turkey, two-for-one. Not half-price.

I was unclear on how cold cuts could be two-for-one, until the deli worker told me it was buy a pound, get a pound.

So, I'll be eating a lot of sandwiches this week (even after freezing a pound).

Also, I'm pretty sure I was overcharged on 4 cans of stewed tomatoes (made for chili), but I didn't feel like getting into it for two bucks.

Unanswered Questions

When sending an e-mail in an attempt to gain information, it is typically more useful if the intended respondent is included on the e-mail distribution.

Storage Math

I'm looking at external USB hard drives. Here's the question:

160 GB @ $100 (after rebate) = $0.618 / gigabyte

or

120 GB @ $70 (same rebate) = $0.58 / gigabyte

Note that we're well under a dollar per gig.

I remember not so long ago when a dollar a meg was a good price.

Napkin Entry #7: I'm Never Gonna ________ Again

(Still 9/24, still in Cafe Montmarte. My handwriting is getting a little hard to read at this point.)

I realize that this is self-defeating, and yet to pull in the obligatory and perhaps unavoidable geek quote (in this case, ST: TNG, BOBW part II):

When a man is convinced he's going to die tomorrow, he'll probably find a way to make it happen.

****************************

I wasn't talking about death. Maybe a little death. Or the little death.

Napkin Entry #6: Dearth of Late-Night Dining Options

According to rough estimates, I've eaten more Taco Bell in the past 3 weeks (especially their beef products) than I have in the preceeding 9 years.

Napkin Entry #5: Numb3rs

(Is that show even still on?)

98 does not equal 89.

Napkin Entry #4: Choices

So, I had a choice to make this weekend.

1. Go to the National Book Festival and be solitary among thousands of people (including the anti-war demonstrators) on the Mall

2. Go to Blocktoberfest in Arlington, to be crammed among thousands of people, but with friends.

I chose the latter. Only time will tell if I made the right choice.

If it goes according to type, no matter which choice I make, I will invariaby wish I picked the other.

****************************

Blocktoberfest was pretty good. Some interesting conversations and a lot of ogling. I punched out around 9pm, then spent the next 20 minutes trying to find my car. I'd even had a location written down (11th & Vernon, behind Eastern Auto), though I'd neglected to remember which direction off of Glebe Road it was, so went the wrong direction.

There was also a moment of confusion as to whether a particular street was one-way or two-way.

In hindsight, since I'd stopped by the Mazda dealership to pick up a new rear windshield wiper blade (they didn't have just the refill, so I had to buy the whole thing, though it was only 5 bucks more -- it's a weird size, so I couldn't just go to an auto parts store), I should have just asked to leave the car in the lot, it would have been much easier.

Napkin Entry #4: Call & Response

(9/24, Friday night at the Cafe Montemarte bar)

In passing, saw a cow-orker in the stairwell at lunch.

Me: What's the word?

Her: Not much...

This was not the expected response. Nevertheless, I was willing to maintain the polite fiction that it was acceptable.

However, she owned up to her misstatement instead of making her getaway.

Napkin Entry #3: Dumb Things From Kickball

(This should actually be Napkin Entry #0, since it happened 9/13.)

Kickball on Tuesday. To save the suspense, we won, 8-0.

I went 2 for 2, though #2 had significant dumbness.

I was feeling out the new pitcher, who put a mid-speed roller right down the middle. It was too late for me to kick it and it was going to be a strike, so I went to foul it off with a gentle tap.

Unfortunately, the gentle tap went right up the middle.

I hear myself say, "Oh, shit" and book towards first. I think I actually had to jump over the ball. Somehow, I end up on first base, plus they overthrow, so I moved up to second.

Next kick goes into right field, so I take off towards third.

Now, here's where I'm hazy. Brian was coaching third, and he either said "You're standing up" or he might have waved me on. In any event, I round third and head home, head down.

Halfway there, I look up, and I see that the ball is already there.

I dig in and back to 3rd. I'm almost there, I know the ball is coming at me, and I feel my legs start to give out. (I'm really out of shape. Also, the pregame beers may have been a factor.)

I dive towards third, half-diving, half-crawling.

I slap the base as the ball hits me on the bounce. Out.

To boot, I had a nice raspberry on my elbow, plus dirt impacted under my left ring fingernail. I think the oozing has mostly cleaned it out by now.

************************************************

That was 9/13, and that's been our last game to date, since Fairfax County has pulled WAKA's field permits. The reason is unclear (though it wasn't for alcohol.)

Napkin Entry #2: Road Rage vs. The Mellow Burn

Leaving the office by the back road, I'm in the left lane, semi-truck slightly ahead in the right lane, which is a right-turn only onto gravel. I figure he's in the wrong lane and going to move over, and considering there's only 50 yards to the intersection, I decide to give him a break and let him move over.

BMW SUV bitch feels I've made the wrong decision, and lets me know with her horn.

Way to go against stereotype.

The thing about driving in this area, you can't really flip someone off, because you just find yourself in a meeting with them. Especially if you see the parking lot hang tag on their rearview mirror.

The rest of my drive home, I'm wondering what manager or executive was willing to piss off someone with whom they might have a future business relationship, for a momentary advantage in positioning that would be nullified at the next light.

Napkin Entry #1: Things from the 9:30 Club

(Sept. 14, down in the basement bar.)

Went to the 9:30 Club to see Mike Doughty. Didn't have a ticket, but figured it wouldn't sell out (sorry, Doughty). I was right.

I was in line to buy a ticket, when the woman in front of me turns around and asks me if I need a ticket. I say yes. She says she has an extra and hands me a ticket.

I ask her how much she wants, and she says not to worry about it.

She was so nice, that I almost forgot to give her back the receipt portion of the ticket (with her name on address on it).

Anyway, thanks Erin of Great Falls.

So, not really dumb, more of a karmic payback (to the dollar) for leaving my extra ticket from Over the Rhine the other week.

Then again, I left my cell phone in the cup holder of my car, so I fully expect to go back and see my window broken out.

********************

It wasn't, oddly enough.

Good show, though he didn't play "His Truth Is Marching On", which I was really looking forward to. He did, however, play his cover of "Hungry Like the Wolf."

I was struck at how Doughty is once again fronting a four-piece, complete with upright bass, keyboard (with sampler) and octopus-armed drummer.

One incident was kind of strange. This girl behind me was apparently concerned that she was distracting me with her hooting and hollering (she wasn't, I had my earplugs in); towards the end of the show, she actually put her hands over my ears (briefly).

I was shocked enough that I ended up doing nothing. For the life of me, I can't recall what she looked like, to help determine if I should have.

Things Old, New, Borrowed, Blue

Old: Four cocktail napkins worth of entries.

New, Borrowed & Blue: The new blog template. It's one of the Blogger's canned templates -- "Snapshot Sable." I like it. Switching to it also seems to have mooted that stupid MSIE style sheet bug that I haven't had time to diagnose.

All I have to do is come up with some personally-relevant imagery for the header art. Oh, and tint it blue.

(Non) Intelligence in the Internet age

As per boingboing, c(pipe)net News.com is running a thought piece on how technology is affecting our ability to think, asking: Is technology making us smarter, or dumber?

"It's true we don't remember anything anymore, but we don't need to," said [Jeff] Hawkins, the co-founder of Palm Computing and author of a book called "On Intelligence."

"We might one day sit around and reminisce about having to remember phone numbers, but it's not a bad thing. It frees us up to think about other things. The brain has a limited capacity, if you give it high-level tools, it will work on high-level problems," he said.

This is indeed a bad thing. Has the Butlerian Jihad taught us nothing?

(Other than, yes, I will use any excuse to make a gratuitous Dune reference.)

From where I sit, I think that people are pretty dumb (even smart people), and anything that causes us to use our brains less makes us dumberer.

Sure, technology can free us from the mundane drudgery of remembering things, spelling things correctly and doing arithmetic; if you think the brain is a computer with limited system resources, that may work for you. In fact, I'm going to forget how to spell "reminisce" so I can use those resources to go work out some orbital mechanics problems.

Maybe it's just my misanthropic view of human nature. Then again, I think history is on my side. The digital revolution gives us the Internet, potentially the most empowering, democratizing, liberating communications medium out there. It was supposed to be a utopia, and we use it to find porn. (I'm looking directly at you, Mr. Nicholas "Being Digital" Negroponte.)

In my nonexpert personal experience, the brain is more like a muscle than a computer. By doing stupid crap like algebra and spelling, you're training the brain for more rigorous applications. And if you stop doing the scut work, your brain atrophies.

I'm reminded of a Donald Rumsfeld quote, for which he got a lot of flak because it sounded funny, but which always made a lot of sense to me (and not just in the Yogi Berra way):

"Reports that say that something hasn't happened are always interesting to me, because as we know, there are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns; that is to say we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns - the ones we don't know we don't know."

There's a difference between forgetting something, and not knowing you've forgotten something, or not knowing something, and not knowing that you don't know it. If you don't remember a phone number, is it because you can remember and simply choose not to, or have you lost that capability completely? I think that losing the capability makes us less human.

This doesn't even take into account the observation that technology tends to fail us at the most inopportune times.

Perhaps it's just my own fears. I rarely use spellcheck, but I was seriously hobbled when AOL's dictionary interface recently changed, disallowing wildcard lookups. I hadn't realized how much I relied on it as a crutch. (Fortunately, it's back now.)

I make a conscious effort to balance my checkbook by hand, but I always use a calculator to check my work. And I usually find something wrong, in the form of a stupid arithmetic error.

I remember working as a cashier at Barnes & Noble; the power went out, so we went to hand calculators and sales slips. (Nowadays, they probably would have just closed the store.) I had an unbelievably hard time making change, especially when someone would give me extra money so they'd get change in a more convenient form. (I do this all the time, and the responses range from disbelief, to a resigned "I don't care, the computer will tell me what to do.")

I'm out of things to say, so using the time-honored device of hacks everywhere, I am going to close with a quote, also from Dune, so I don't have to come up with a conclusion of my own:

"Thou shalt not make a machine in the image of Man's mind"

Quick Hits of Dumb...Stuff

* I have about 4 entries worth of stuff written on paper napkins that are currently sitting in my notebook, waiting to be typed up.

* I've finally left the world of dial-up behind, having ditched my wizard.net account today.

* Baja Fresh guacamole is a lot better the first day.

* Instead of a regular Diet Coke, I mistakenly bought a Diet Coke With Lime Flavor, which is one of the more disgusting things I've ever drankened.

Mellow Burn

It's been a pretty stressful week, with work and the Verizon and hey laaaaaadyyyyy and all that.

To counteract this, I just burned a CD that's very calming. I call it the Mellow Burn.

Here it is, with notes:

 1. Rilkean Heart, Cocteau Twins
 2. Bluer, Over The Rhine (currently obsessed with this song)
 3. Fool For A Country Tune, Dusty Trails (with Vivian formerly of Luscious Jackson)
 4. God Song, Beth Orton (obsessed with this one, too)
 5. The Nightingale, Angelo Badalamenti
 6. More Than This, Bryan Ferry & Roxy Music
 7. Five Room Love Story, Cowboy Junkies
 8. Ladies And Gentlemen We Are Floating In Space, Spiritualized
 9. I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues, Elton John
10. His Truth Is Marching On, Mike Doughty
11. Flower, Liz Phair (more on this one later)
12. Thinking About Tomorrow, Beth Orton
13. Prom Theme, Fountains Of Wayne
14. Heroes In June, Echobelly
15. Running To Stand Still, U2
16. No Need to Argue, The Cranberries
17. Stay, Belly
18. Yours And Mine, Fountains Of Wayne

I really struggled with limiting it to two per artist, tops. Otherwise, it would have been all Cowboy Junkies, Beth Orton, Over the Rhine, and Cocteau Twins. But that's why they have groups of songs called "albums."

It is so calming, in fact, that an unintended consequence has been endangering my life while driving, since in DC-metro traffic, a relaxed, nonaggressive driver is otherwise known as a victim, sucker or target.

Nevertheless, I share it with you. Listen while driving at your own risk.

Dumb Purchases I Have Made Recently

My credit card statement is going to be pretty eclectic this month. Also large.

Recent charges include:

* Hurricane Relief

* High-Fidelity Ear Plugs (for better concert-going experiences)

* Replacement batteries for my obsolete 2-megapixel digital camera (ebay).

* Cable modem

* Wireless router

(These last two items will also have me in Rebate Hell)

* Another flashlight that I don't need

Somebody Else's Problem

So the outside line person didn't come on Saturday.

Came around on Sunday. I had been planning to go to the Adams-Morgan Festival, but I was so very, very tired.

Turns out that the line was never properly grounded (which is probably why my phone got fried a year or two back after a lightning strike), though that's probably incidental.

Oh, and there's a problem with the underground splice. Probably.

What's that mean? Well, they have to call Miss Utility, wait a few days, get everything marked, dig shit up, and eventually fix something. Probably get it all wrapped up in a week or so.

I give up.

Have I mentioned I'm one of only three people left in America who doesn't have broadband at home? Which means I'm cut off.

I Didn't Need a Landline, Anyway

My people have a saying:

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times, it's time to swtich to Cavalier Telephone.

Fucking RBOC Verizon.

So after cancelling my service appointment on Thursday, I had a super-special manager's service call appointment, with an almost-unheard of 4-hour service window (between 4pm and 8pm).

They'd left me two messages in the morning, and another one at 5pm, making extra sure I knew about this, so I thought I was in good shape.

At about 7:30, I started getting worried.

At 8pm, I was livid.

At 8:30pm, I had calmed down enough to call the service center.

I asked them what happened to my appointment.

"Oh, it looks like the tech had to postpone it to the following morning."

Indeed.

To make matters better, the service window was 8am to 6pm.

So we've gone from 8 hours, to 4 hours, then up to 10 hours.

"Well, you're the fourth call on his list, so he'll probably get there around 11am."

Super.

I went to Cafe Montmarte and got...well, not hammered, but there was some drinking involved.

It was pretty lively there, too. In fact, when I left Lake Anne after midnight, for some reason, it looked like a Fairfax County Police Department social gathering.

Skip ahead to Saturday.

Tech gets there around 11am. So far, so good.

Looks at the box outside. Tests it (which I can't do, since it has an old 4-wire connection, not a modular jack).

He tells me the problem is with the lines somewhere outside the house. That's fine, I already knew that.

Unfortunately, he's an inside-line guy. So he has to call it in. But the outside line folks aren't going to be that busy, so they'll probably get here today, and I don't have to be there.

Saga continues....

An Open Letter to RBOC Verizon

Dear RBOC Verizon,

FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING FUCKS

There, look, you made me swear.

That's for making me wait 5 days for a service call, and then canceling the service call somewhere along the line because your automated line testing showed the problem was "resolved."

It's not.

Fuckers.

Note to Self

Dear Dateless Wonder,

Before purchasing tickets to a show, please to make sure it's not in the middle of a three-day holiday weekend prior to getting two.

Sincerely,

Joelogon

(Over the Rhine at Jammin Java, if you must know.)

Verizon Will Always Be Hell Atlantic to Me

On Saturday, I discovered my landline was dead.

I called up Verizon. Since it was Labor Day weekend, I figured might be a while until they could get a tech out.

Thursday.

Thursday.

This was on Saturday, mind you.

So This Is Getting Old

Had a kickball double-header on Tuesday.

No sliding. No diving.

Just a little running.

My ribs are still sore.

Internet Exploder

Apparently, this here blog's pages cut off prematurely when viewed in the Windows MSIE browser.

This, I did not know because I am primarily using Firefox.

Viewing source shows all the entries are here, it's just cutting off just below the Google ads.

Hrm.

Attention, Attention Web Site Publishers

Animated gifs should NOT be used to fake embedded video in Web pages.

If you absolutely must do this, if it's so absolutely vital to your cause that you MUST have fake video gifs of penguins getting pushed into puddles or whatever, at least keep it small.

Like under 500K?

Not twelve-and-three-quarter freaking megabytes: http://hideawayknife.com/measurewb160v3.GIF

Man alive.

Month to Month

All this time, I thought I was recording F/X's "Over There" (Stephen Bocho's Iraq series) on my VCR.

Yes, I'm still analog that way.

It had actually caused me some concern, since 1. I had an ever-growing backlog of unwatched episodes, combined with 3 weeks worth of unwatched "Battlestar Galactica", and 2. I had thought that the tape rolled over, and recorded over the Forrest Griffith/Stephan Bonner UFC fight and the PBS showing of "Whale Rider."

Last night, I rewound the tape and settled in for some hard-core, brain-melting television watching.

Hrm, the 15+minute fight was still there. Fast forward a bit. So was the movie.

Now, either something spontaneously happened where you can compress 8+ hours of footage on a 6-hour SLP VHS tape, or I did something wrong.

I checked the timer settings.

Battlestar Galactica was fine.

Over There was also fine. Weekly, Wednesday night. See, starting 8/31?

Oh.

So I was off a month.

Marshmallow

After handling mini-marshmallows (e.g. attempting to throw them into a cow-orker's mouth. Note: Cow-orker should be a willing participant in this activity.): Do not wipe hands on shirt (especially when wearing a dark shirt).

The Perils of Overrelying on Unsend

I just sent an e-mail where I referred to something or someone in mildy less-than-flattering terms.

Unfortunately, I had hit "reply" instead of "forward."

Oops.

Exhibiting my lightning-fast reflexes, I picked up the phone, and ever so humbly asked the unintended recipient to delete the mail without reading it.

I don't know whether she truly hadn't read it yet, or is simply adhering to a polite fiction.

Naked Lunch

Despite repeated encounters, I keep forgetting that institutional food provider Sodexho-Marriot's ("Now With More Ho") interpretation of "spicy" is "less bland than our other stuff."

For example, today's curried rice looks and smells mildy curry-flavored, yet somehow manages to have less taste than regular white rice.

Troy Has a Posse

Okay, so ever since I saw Troy's mug shot...er, team profile photo, something has been bothering me.

It reminded me of something familiar.

I figured it out this week; there's a meme that's been going around for years, in the form of sticker grafitti that says Andre the Giant Has a Posse (Google Image Search link):



You can find the stickers stuck up in unlikely places all over the world.

Once Photoshop came out, the meme has mutated as people do up their own homages.

Like this one:



I had to take a wild guess on the stats.

So endeth the lesson.

(Don't hurt me, Troy.)

Meeting Handout Etiquette

When meeting handouts are being distributed, the accepted protocol is: Take one, pass rest on.

Not the other way around.

You Made Me Do This

Lon got bit by a dog last week.

It didn't break the skin.

Normally, this wouldn't have warranted a blog entry, but when it came up in conversation, I asked him why he didn't tell me about it last week. He said,

"Everything I tell you ends up in your blog."

This is obviously untrue.

Presented Without Comment

Chinatown, NYC (corner of Bayard and Elizabeth)



This has also been noted by others (who did not have thumbprints on the lens).

Say my name, bitch!

Generally speaking, when screaming out someone's name, it is best to make sure you know their name first.

Even if you are only off by one letter.

Alas, this was merely during a sporting event.

You Can't See Blank Stares Over IMs

Yesterday, a cow-orker (who shall remain nameless) pinged me in an IM, asking me a follow-up question from an earlier meeting. Something about re-assigning existing promo codes from a blah blah blah...

I had no idea what he was talking about, as I haven't been in any meetings with him that I could remember. This caused a few moments of brain-wracking.

Fortunately for me, it turns out that he had someone else in mind.

Perhaps he's just obsessed with me.

Killing a Perfectly Good Saturday

I had a whole bunch of stuff planned for Saturday. I even got around to doing some of it.

It was also chock full of dumb stuff (which will be numbered)⁰.

I spent the waking up portion of the morning trying to play Halo on Legendary (the hardest level)^1. . I was inspired after watching a few episodes of the video-game animated talk show, This Spartan Life.

Careful analysis indicates that I still stink.

I then headed into Arlington to do a few errands. It was a hot day, so I decided to get a refreshing Slurpee, good for a free song at the iTunes Music Store.

No more big Slurpee cups with the free song.^2.

Worse, I ended up getting a Coke-flavored Slurpee, which was one of the more disgusting things I've ever tasted.^3.

I headed out onto I-66.

Now, based on the evidence that I saw on the road, I would think that Ford Focus drivers are the dumbest people on Earth. However, I know this is not the case.

In the first incident, I was headed east, just by Westmoreland street. It's two lanes with an exit-only lane. I saw the Focus in the exit lane, going pretty darn fast with no sigsn of slowing. Not only does he cut in at the last minute, crossing the solid line and two lanes of traffic, fitting through a space that required some bending of the laws governing space-time interaction.^4.

In the second incident, the Focus in question was sitting on the Lee Highway/Spout Run exit. Or more precisely, in the rough part between the exit and highway, trying to get back onto 66. Bad idea.^5. I didn't stick around to watch.

Anyway, I made it in to Arlington. One of the points of the exercise was to go to the CD Cellar. I managed to get out without causing major damage, even though I appear to be buying all the music I should have bought in the mid-90s (but didn't)^6.. I did, however, make my first Madonna CD purchase, finally getting Ray of Light.

An Open Letter to Band Relient K

Dear Band Relient K,

When driving your tour support van on the southern portion of the New Jersey Turnpike (as seen late night on Friday, August 12), please note that the left lane is for passing only.

Regards,

Joelogon

Dumb Thing I Forgot I Did During Live 8

I had to work during Live 8, but at least I had a nice fat pipe with which to watch the streams.

Crappy speakers, though.

Anyway, I was listening on a conference call part of the time, and I had my headset on, muted.

I was watching Madonna on the London stream, and when she did Ray of Light, I took off the headset so I could get a better listen.

You know, to rock out.

I switched to speakerphone so I could still hear the call.

I forgot that the mute button for the headset is separate from the mute button for the speaker.

I remembered after I heard one of the more senior execs on the call asking whoever it was to mute their phone.

I dropped off the call. Quickly.

In a somewhat-related postscript, we had an company all-hands Webcast last week. They used the Madonna Live 8 London footage as the warmup.

Unedited, so it included Madonna shouting "Are you fucking ready, London?"

I found that kind of amusing.

Dumb Things: Lightning Round

* I'm all out of bubblegum.

* Bazooka Joe comics are as dumb as ever.

* A 5-cent piece of Bazooka Joe bubblegum is the same size as the old 3-cent piece.

* If I buy Everlasting Gobstoppers, I will eat them. Quickly.

* I bought a DVD (Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle: Extreme Unrated Edition) two Saturdays ago. I opened it last Saturday. The case was empty.

* Due to a team outing to Annapolis, I missed the last terrestrial broadcast of the Ron & Fez show.

* During that same outing, I lost a glove.

Gas Station Math

When topping off one's gas tank in order to get a discounted car wash, one should remember there is a difference between an 8-gallon purchase and an 8-dollar purchase.

Sometimes I Scare Myself

Entering my darkened house last night, I heard voices coming from the kitchen.

I froze for a moment, then prepared to commence the ass-kicking.

Then I realized I was about to vent my fury on the on-air staff of the CBC radio show "As It Happens," which was coming from the clock radio I had left on that morning.

Dumb Things From Kickball, Part 3

Sunday, we had a practice/scrimmage with Lon's team.

I got there a little late, since I had decided to try out my skates.

Surprisingly, the bearings are not, in fact, ruined.

It was another beautiful day. I skated from Reston to Sterling and back, taking about 90 minutes.

I didn't carry any water, since I figured the water stops en route would be sufficient.

This, as it turns out, was a mistake.

I made it to the practice fields and joined the game already in progress.

I was playing outfield, which usually leads to head trauma of some sort.

When Lon was at bat, I knew he was going to kick it to me, in an attempt to put it over my head and generally make me look foolish.

So I backed up.

As predicted, the ball came at me, a little short. I sprinted forward and scooped it up at my feet.

I'm not sure if I fell, rolled or flipped, but I made the catch and ended up flat on my ass, with my legs splayed out in front of me.

Everything was fine, until I realized that both of my legs (quads) were so cramped up, I couldn't bend them.

Dehydration, and all that.

Eventually, with help, I hobbled off the field, and after some Gatorade (it was just like in the commercials), I recovered.