I'm moving on Sunday, as part of my move, I decided to get some new furniture and organize my shit. As part of this "re-org" I learned my computer totally blows ass, and as a reasonably old adult with good credit, I can buy a new one and pay that bad boy off in 2 years or less time, with no finance charges, awesome!
So I brought my old computer to Best Buy last night to have them transfer data, remove all the bullshit from the new one, and make that fucker dance. I know there are people who have the ability to do stuff like this, but I'm not one of them and didn't want to bug any of them that I knew for this, as the price for it was fair. So I got the call today that everything went smoothly, except for the fact that my D drive was corrupted and they could not save it. My d drive was the hard drive from my original computer (original in the last 5 years at least), so that means all that information is gone. My roommate Jim originally moved this over when I got my new/old computer 3 years ago, and I had zero problems with it. This saddens me, not because I'm losing correspondence, thoughts of my own I joted down, or even clever little thing I downloaded (and eventually lead me to NEED to get my current/former computer in the first place), but most importantly, I just lost all my porn.
Without going into (more) gory details, lets just say I put a fair amount of effort into not only acquiring but also maintaining that collection, and it had taken several years. I'd honest to God got to the point where I could jump into the specially named folder (downloads) and instantly view whatever my heart desired. Lets say I wanted to know what two young bouncy college girls might try if they were locked in their door room for the night (even as the room appears to have no doors), or to discover the answers that a "geographical pop quiz" can have, when peformed by a young teacher on her legally-aged student, in the privace of her husband is off traveling apartment. Or one of my favorite acronym hunting young gents, looking to treat a woman as specially, and as many, times as possible in one evening. Il'l be honest, I'm a single dude who doesn't seem women naked all that much, so for me, this was like going to foreign films, skydiving, or perhaps traveling is for folks who get to see the opposite sex naked on a regular basis. I won't lie, I'm so saddened now it's difficult to type.
We all know I"ll replace that shit to the best of my ability, but lets put some perspective on this. I used to live in a house with not only 2 other people, but my SISTER. So now, I'm moving to my own place, where I can play WoW with my pants off (and still can, BOOYA!), but where my porn didn't have to maintain ANY level of secrecy or planning to view at my convenience. (so hard to not use the word, pleasure there, but that's for another post) So, that timing fucking sucks. (pauses at the ironic nostalgia of that last sentence) Also, the secretive nature of it would disappear, hell, Super's Fucking Porn is a great folder title and will still probably get used. But we must rebuild, and considering I feel like I'm rebuilding many parts of my life right now, it's hard for that one (unlike WoW) to take any priority in my life. Also, if you've ever bought porn online before, there's a certain "dance with the devil feeling" that makes you feel dirty, unlike the porn itself of course, that makes me not look forward to doing it again anytime soon.
So, at some point today, please pause, in rememberance of my fallen porn collection, you were a great companion, a suprising motivator at times, not to mention always there for me, as long as my roommates were not in the house. You will be missed. . . .
Hey folks,
This is will come as a surprise to some, but I'm moving from my house at the start of September. So what happened: Basically, Julie is 37, I'm now 35 and we decided not to live together anymore. There wasn't a fight or any sort of dispute, but we've lived together for 6 years, and it was long enough. I am going to continue to own the house, but Julie is going to take over all the expenses, and our goal is to sell it in 2009-2010, or whenever the market stops being so shitty. Because I'm still on the mortgage for the house, from all the research I did it would have been mucho difficult to get another large mortgage in my name, so I've decided to get a modest apartment and save money, and hopefully have enough to get my own house once we eventually sell ours. So, that's the scoop. I'll be asking for help to move, but am going to have to do it on a Sunday, which blows, but I honestly dont' have much stuff, so if I have 2 other people besides me, we will be more than fine.
SOOP
I really HATE it when folks e-mail me, especially when they are responding to me about something, and end the e-mail with ellipsis. Discussion through writing can just be so damned ambigous anyway, but when any statement ends with . . ., it makes the point very hard to grasp, and in my opinion, intentionally so. The point of ellipsis are to indicate some omission of words or from an original text. So if I'm quoting some famous passage from a book in writing, I can use ellipsis rather than quote the whole damn thing. But in e-mails, and most correspondence, that's not what folks use it for. Usually, folks use it to indicate a pause, or to trail off into silence. The thing that pisses me off is the "trail into silence" usage. In real life, when you are talking to someone, when do you trail into silence? Does it happen often? What does trailing off into silence, convey to the person you are talking to?
Example:
Shane-"Super, have you taken a shower this week."
Super-"Nah, was to busy rolling my fat ass in the mud."
Shane-"Sounds like something you should be proud off. . ."
So, is that fucker Shane complimenting me in that sequence? Of course not. So when somebody writes me an e-mail, and says "I see we still haven't sent out the marketing letters to the customers we discussed, this is an important issue. . ." Basically I read it as, you didn't do your job asshole, and now I'm so disgusted with you I have to finish this thought with not ONE period, but THREE, so enjoy that, bitch. I hate ellipsis because it allows folks to be passive aggressive, while writing. Isn't the whole point of writing to get some sort of point across? So, basically using ellipsis allows you to write, but totally ignore the function of writing by trailing off in silence. Am I the only one this bothers?
Doesn't it seem like my earlier example could be fixed by writing, "I see you've failed to send out the marketing letters I've requested so far, so please have them sent by Friday." You know what I love about that last sentence, IT HAS A POINT. So this is my crying call out to all folks to not us ellipsis to end sentences, unless you truly are so disgusted with your reader that they deserve your silence. That makes sense, right? Here is what irritates me the most about ellipsis, when folks use them with me consistently, I get so profoundly frustrated with it that I start constantly ending all comunications with them, with ellipses, as well. Example:
"Joel, I see you left feces on your desk again, this could be considered a health issue. . ."
to which I respond,
"Couldn't agree more, I am disgusting. . . "
What makes the most frustrated it that I feel like t'm actually using those 3 dot fuckers correctly, but my passive aggressiveness is seen as a fucking invitation for that person to end EVERY SINGLE THING THEY SEND TO ME, with ellipsis. It gets hilarious for things like,
"The cookies you brought into the office were delicious. . ."
Seriously, those cookies were so fucking good they have knocked you into a silent stupor, man those fuckers must have been good.
But then I start being a real prick and ending them myself (in my head of course) with phrases like "but stabbing my wife was really not appreciated."
Anything that irritates you to the point where you become a five year old in dealing with it, is something I'm obviously not proud of, but I'm not seeing any resolution to this pet peeve any time soon. So here is my question, if you don't use ellipsis to express disgust, what do you use them for? I'm also amazed that folks use these multiple times in ONE correspondence. If you are talking to me in person, and I trail off into silence more than once, wouldn' t you have already hung up the phone/punched me in the face before I do it the 2nd time? I should note I'm completely complicit with the fact that many folks will be amazed this bothers me as much as it does, and I apologize if this rant comes of as more rude than most of mine do. But I'm amazed at how many folks I know use elipsis more instead of periods, and I just do not understand why. One final note, if this rant is directed at one person, it is my passive-aggresive fuck of a boss, and no one else. I know there are many folks who read this who will think this is directed at them, and I can promise it's not. But, and I sincerely mean this, if you honestly didn't know what ellipsis were for, or didn't realize how they come off(if only to my pissy ass), for the love of all that is chocolate, please stop using them for communications with me. Thank you.
Okay people, I know many you are keeping track, so you will pleased to note the following story contains:
- Cat goodness, plenty of it.
- Personal injury
- Strange, and obscure references
- Plenty of swearing, don't wanna dissapoint my fan base.
So buckle up, or odds are good you may get fuckled up.
So Tuesday I'm driving home a drugged up (and soon to be pooping all over my room) cat in my car, and I realized that this week was gonna blow some major ass. I was missing a going away happy hour for a co-worker, who to be honest probably won't be missed, but I hate missing Happy Hours. I can use more Happy Hours in my life, can't you?
I was also realizing that trivia for that night was also boned, and decided it would be best to "suck it up". Some backstory:
Julie is out of town. Julie, also, is a fucker. She scheduled Arthur's 2 week checkup to coincide with (Art's on antibiotics because his kidney numbers are a tad screwy, but rest assured he'll be fine, and will proabably outlive us all, especially if he gets his way. . . . keep reading), Kirby's first dental cleaning ever (he's 9, so yep, my Cat Dad of 2008 award is pretty fucking much locked up) with his screaming because he also hates cages companion, Arthur. Fast forward 90 minutes, I finally get to leave the office, with a more than pissed off Art, as Lord Boo (Kirby's favorite nickname) sat in his cage giving me a look like "forgot one, forgot one, dude, dude, DUUUUUUDE". The Vet let me know in Kirby's pre-surgery exam, that he had one tooth that had a hole in it (See Cat Dad of '08 Award) so they were gonna have to pull that bitch. That also means he would be on antibotics AND pain killers, for only the next 3-5 years. I drop Art off at home, he promptly eats all his food and throws it up at my feet, I curse him (and clean up the mess) and head back to work. I finally got a call around 3:30 saying that it was actually TWO rotten teeth that needed to be pullled, on top of a missing tooth that to the Vet's best guess "just fucking fell out."
So I pick up LB, and learn that right after I left, he got all ghetto on the entire office staff, requiring that not only all 3 members of staff be required to restrain him, but also required the services of the local Swat Team that just happened to be passing by. (Thanks boys!) So, the Vet warned me he could "blow up" in the next couple days, and to keep an eye on him. Fun!
So Kirboo gets narcotics in syringe form, that thankfully require no injecting, just a quick spray on his gums, post meal. I'll be honest, this made me nervous, but I've thankfully learned that not only does Kirby LOVE his new painkillers, he also is now a fan of not only Creedence Clearwater Revival, but Foghat. Thankfully radios are easily disconnected.
So last night I get home, to begin my routine of Art gets his Blue pill, and an hour later his food and Antiobiotic, and Kirby gets his antiobotic, food, and then his twice a day "fix". (his words, not mine, man I hope Kitten Rehab is cheap).Well, that gets blown to hell when Art decides that blue pill is not going down HIS throat, and he throws a fit I was fairly sure was gonna end with his head doing fucking 360 and pea soup all over my pants. I finally restrain him, and give him the old "sorry dude this is gonna hurt me more than it's gonna hurt you" to which he responds "fucking right it is" and for the FIRST time in his life, sinks his teeth directly into the top middle of my left hand. While this is all happening, Julie is still out of town, in CALIFORNIA. . . . . .
Once I was done cursing, I gave Art a solemn oath I'd never give him a pill again, then quickly stuffed that fucker down his throat (my hand was still bleeding, so I felt not that bad) then I gave Lord Boo his series of pills and shit, and then gave my hand a check. IT FUCKING HURT. It wasn't pouring blood, but Art got his money's worth out of his left fang, as that bitch went WAY deep. After a quick call to see how Julie's trip was going (YOUR FUCKING CAT JUST FUCKING TRIED TO FUCKING KILL ME< HOPE THE FUCKING WEATHER IN FUCKING CALIFUCKINGORNIA IS NICE) that's verbatim by the way, I made sure my hand was properly cleaned, and went about my way. Yep, Warcraft. . . .
Two hours later I realize my hand is already swollen, and decide to hit the sack and worry about it in the morning. Morning comes, yep, hand is still fucked up. Now it's swollen, red, sensitive to touch and very, very warm. So I go on the internet to discover symptoms for infection, and they are when the wounded area is swollen, red, sensitive to touch, and very, very warm. Sweet. Thank God I work in a hospital, one phone call later I had a 1pm appointment, to thankfully get the sort of drugs that make Kirby keep requesting "Freebird" everytime I come home these days.
1:15 pm, my appointment is over, my white blood cell count is good and I'm now the new reciepient of a 875 MG prescription of some sort of antibiotic. Yep, i'm pretty sure antibiotic is latin for "pills so fucking big they'd pop your fucking tire if you ran over them". Also, one quick funny side note, after the nurse left me in the exam room following her comment of "waiting the night to get that checked out has a great chance of making it harder to fix" she closes the door for me to note that the magazine rack on the back of the door, is full of Cat Fancy magazines. Fuck me with a chainsaw.
So, long story short. . . . I'm now sufficiently antibioticed up and more than looking forward to give Art his blue pill tonight by throwing him and the pill into my running ceiling fan, and hoping nature works that fucking shit out.
I've seen this several times recently, apparently it's part of some regular web toon, of which I have no further information.
Found this on a blog today and it's been fun to work through. I don't have the answers, so keep that in mind and I'm guessing the "rating system" is a little low, but it's still fun.
This test does not measure your intelligence, your fluency with words, and certainly not your mathematical ability. It will, however, give you some gauge of your mental flexibility and creativity. It has been found that few people could solve more than half on the first day. Many reported getting answers long after the test had been set aside, at unexpected moments when their minds were relaxed; and some reported solving questions over a period of several days.
Take this as a personal challenge.
Example: 16 = O in a P Answer: 16 = ounces in a pound
1. 26 = L of the A
2. 7 = D of the W
3. 1001 = A N
4. 12 = S of the Z
5. 54 = C in a D (with J)
6. 9 = P in the S S
7. 88 = PK
8. 13 = S on the A F
9. 32 = D F at which W F
10. 18 = H on a G C
11. 90 = D in a R A
12. 200 = D for P G in M
13. 8 = S on a S S
14. 3 = B M (S H T R)
15. 4 = Q in a G
16. 24 = H in a D
17. 1 = W on a U
18. 5 = D in Z C
19. 57 = H V
20. 11 = P on a F B T
21. 1000 W that a P is W
22. 29 = D in F in a L Y
23. 64 = S on a C B
24. 40 = D and N of the G F
25. 76 = T in the BP
26. 50 = W to L Y L
27. 99 = B of B on the W
28. 60 = S in a M
29. 1 = H on a U
30. 9 = J on the S C
31. 7 = B for S B
32. 21 = D on a D
33. 7 = W of the A W
34. 15 = M on a D M C
Scoring:
1-6 Questions = Average
6-12 Questions = Somewhat Intelligent
12-18 Questions = Intelligent
18+ Questions = Genius!
First, the following is a full response to Shane's wonderful post about meeting famous people. I started to write it in responses, but it got too damn long, so read Shane's post first, so this makes sense.
That's awesome! I'd like to meet him just so I can say, "Dude, do you want to tell folks that say you should stay in school, to blow you?" Seriously, if he stays at O State and blows his knee out there, he loses TONS of money. This way he gets top care AND gets paid. If you want to have a "hero" for getting hurt at the right time, he is at the top of my list. I must admit I know who Midget Mac is, but don't think I"d recognize him, as when I'm confronted with little people, I generally don't look directly at them, because I don't want them to think I'm staring. Also, if I did look directly at them, my dumb ass would probably stare. So I wonder what bothers them worse, folks who stare at them, or folks who refuse to look directly at them? Sister Patterson was such a jerk to him it really made me feel for how poorly little people are treated. But I still feel self-concious around them, and I don't know if/when I'll handle it better.
I've seen a few famous people, most athletes, but the funnest was leaving the airport after dropping my Dad off for a business trip when I was like 17 and seeing 2 super tall white guys waiting for a cab in the cab stand. I walked closer because I knew Golden State was in town and Chris Mullin was one of my favorite players. Bingo! It was Chris Mullen and Tom Tolbert, shivering in our cold weather, so I left them alone. If Tim Hardaway had been with them (like that dude has ever taken a cab in his LIFE) I would have came over and said something. I also saw Jaclyn Smith at Red Lobster in Toronto. Yes, it was weird.
Last night on my ride home, I saw a pimped out Honda Civic in front of me with a personalized license plate, the plate read "DEESNUDD". I'm sure there are other options for what this means, but my only question is "Did what's his name get to you last night?"
New movie question, today's quote from my calender is awesome, but it's not the most memorable quote from a very popular movie, here is the quote:
"It's not the years honey, it's the mileage."
Hints, because this is hard:
1. I saw this in the theatre.
2. At the time, this was the best movie I had ever seen in a theatre, besides Star Wars. Okay, that 2nd hint was probably too much.
Hey hey! In honor of the fantastically thoughtful Christmas gift I received from BLT and friend, the 2008 Great Movie Quotes Calendar, I've decided to start a contest. Great quotes from BAD movies. To be honest, I honestly dig some of these movies, but won't lie that they just ain't good. So, to start it off, quotes from 2 football movies, one of which played constantly on cable this weekend. So this is what I want, give me the name of the movie and the name of the actor who says it. Prizes? Undecided as of yet, but you only get one guess per person, per quote. Please, don't use www.imdb.com , that site exists for so many noble purposes, don't use it for nefarious ones, please:
Quote#1:
"Just remember 3 things: Pain heals. Chicks dig scars. Glory, lasts forever."
Quote #2:
"NOT A GOD DAMN THING'S been working for us. Like this goddamn suit doesn't work for me... and this stinking tie... and this goddamned shirt. IT DOESN'T WORK FOR ME. YOU KNOW HOW TO PLAY WINNING HARD-NOSED FOOTBALL? YOU PLAY FOOTBALL LIKE ED GENERRO PLAYED FOOTBALL. A guy who gave his life for this football team. He was a 140-pound halfback, and HE PLAYED LIKE A GODDAMN WILDMAN! NO! LIKE A GODDAMN RAMPAGING BEAST! And that's the way you got to do it! YOU GO OUT THERE! YOU TEAR THEIR FUCKING HEADS OFF, AND YOU SHIT DOWN THEIR NECKS!. . . Let us pray."
Enjoy.
Arthur has a rat toy. Personally, I hate those things, even though they obviously aren't real mice, there is something disenheartening to see him walking around with that thing in his mouth while I choke down my low-fat Brown Maple Sugar flavored oatmeal in the morning. But after I got past my initial disgust, I realized he loves that little furry rat like fucker, so I've been throwing it around for him. Mostly, I like seeing him learn how to use his new "gears", because now that he's 8 pounds thinner he has more than one speed. (but I do miss your constant use-Gently Plodding). So last night I'm throwing it around and it bounces right behind Julie's bookshelf. She has 4 very nice tall bookshelves she bought from Elements that are kinda curvy looking, and dot the north wall in our living room. So before I can stop him, he plows headfirst into the bottom rack of books after the rat deal, and the whole bookshelf shakes (and all the nice glass pieces Julie has slide around). Luckily, nothing broke. So Julie runs from the kitchen and asks what the racket was. My response was, "Your cat is a retard," and I walked away. Hey man, I know I threw it, but it's his rat. I guess this is my way of confessing, even though Julie knows my dumb ass enough that I doubt she bought my story. I didn't bother to confirm. But since I've been lazy about posting lately, thought I'd throw this out there. Enjoy.
