It didn’t work. Wrong plug.
I’ll just buy a new one. I’d been shopping a little bit. It was the pandemic after all, and so many people had posted their opinion about the “best webcam” I was well informed. The one I wanted to buy online also happens to be at a local Target. I’ll stop in an get it while I’m out grocery shopping.
Now the day before I went to Costco and cashed in the big annual rebate. I was walking pretty tall because of it. Big man over here, FLUSH with $300 smackers. The hole burning in my pocket was getting hotter so off to Target to nab the best web cam that won’t show my unshaven neck to my workmates.
If you don’t know me, I’m not exactly a sartorial paragon. My jeans are saggy, but not in the cool intentional way, in the chubby old man who doesn’t think about it way. Plus its winter and cold outside so I’m wearing my heavy coat. But I’m a total miser at home, so I have a sweater on underneath. I’m comfy and bundled up is what I’m saying. Picture Ralphie’s little brother from A Christmas Story but driving a car and wearing a mask.
I find the camera in the back of the store. Its busy in the Target despite being pandemic times. It was a year into the pandemic so I guess people were just used it and happy enough to have full shelves of toilet paper.
I’ll get the wife one as well. She could use it too since she is working at home. Plus, I’m feeling pretty heavy with all these $20s and $50s in my wallet. Time to show the little lady she married the guy.
I head to the checkout counter. I see some holiday Jelly Beans on the impulse shelf, and when it comes to candy I’m nothing if not impulsive.I grab a bag of those because I’M WORTH IT. (You are too reader.)
So here I am at the checkout. I have TWO (2) identical cameras and bag a candy. The checkout person’s name tag read Khalid and he asks “how are you doing today?”
But we both have masks on, and I’m deaf anyways in crowded areas. I can’t really hear him.
We stumble back and forth with a conversation of barely heard platitudes: “what? oh? Wait, what?”
K looks at my two cameras. And again asks how my day is going. “Pretty good after I saw those jelly beans” I say! I’m trying to be jovial in a busy store. I’m sure working in a checkout is a hard task, and nobody needs a grumpy customer. Dad-humor will always cut the cheese tension and make people feel at ease. Or at least recognize I’m no threat to their happiness. Or at least pity me.
Also, I’m sweating. A heavy coat, warm store, human interaction. Its all quite a bit for me. My glasses are fogging up. Anti-maskers were absolute childish twats, but they did have a point about foggy glasses being a bummer.
My new friend K says “its gonna be $162”….
I get out my wallet, and I start bumbling around, counting out the money. Since I’m a modern man™ I usually pay with plastic. I’m not the type of carry around a lot of cash in my wallet. I’m flipping bills. My glasses are foggy. I’m in a hurry because there is a line of people behind me. And I’m a cheapskate at heart so $162 bucks is a lot of money. It honestly took me a lot longer than it should have.
I hand over the money. K counts it. Then counts again. Then VERY S-L-O-W-L-Y shows me he is counting it. And then VERY S-L-O-W-L-Y (and kinda loudly) invites me to see the price on the register.
I have overpaid by $50.
He very kindly and gently give me back the extra money and says “we sure don’t want to overcharge you!” And “we have to be really careful, OKAY!?”
And THAT is when it hit me. K wasn’t sure at first, but he suspected. I bet even in a short period of time, a cashier sees a lot of variety of the human species.
But when I handed him a fist full of cash, far too much cash, he is sure.
I’m touched. Special. Handy.
I’m out on my own, wasting money on TWO identical cameras and bag of jelly beans. I can’t count, I’m sensory overloaded1, and I need to be protected. Probably from myself from the looks of things.
This hero all but walks me to the door. I bet he was seeing if somebody responsible for me was gonna pick me up. He was gonna make sure I was safe so I could enjoy my jelly beans2.
I love you Khalid. Thanks for being so darn nice.
1 Actually, in retrospect, I might have been sensory overloaded.
2 The jelly beans were so-so. At best.
]]>I spent 6 hours cleaning the carpets. It isn’t that dragging around the rug doctor isn’t tiring; it is. But it’s the fact that I was working on a hot day spraying hot water. So sweaty and dehydrated.
And of course the real work with cleaning the carpet is the moving around all of the furniture. Everything has to be moved at least twice. Sometimes more.
But 6 hours, and the carpet is clean.
Then I wash the walls. When is the last time you washed your walls? I’ve never done it before. While I’m doing all this, my beautiful bride is downstairs giving every corner in the house a devil of a time. All those cobwebs way up high in the corner? Got ‘em. Moved the couch and cleaned up all that dog hair? Yup. Empty and rearrange cupboards? Of course.
Everything is so fresh and clean smelling. The only bad part of the house is the 12 year old’s room, but we plan to just seal off that room when she finally moves out. We’ve already decided to cut our losses there.
Now one thing about having our 15 year old cat is that he has un-litter box trained himself. For the past two years, he is only going on puppy pads, which is at least as gross and certainly more spendy that litter. But for the past month, he stopped using those, and started to just pee his nasty cat pee on the floor along the tub. Every morning for two months, waking up and having to mop up cat pee? R.A.G.E.
So the cat got locked out of the bathroom. He already has lost privileges to most rooms in house for just this type of behavior. He is a monster. I’m too weak to just twist his neck shut, but I think about it. I do. And we won’t take him to the vet because they only want to put him on hundreds of dollars of pills. He is an ass. There is no cure for that. Physically healthy. Mentally malignant.
They cat is now basically relegated to the downstairs, on a cat tree. There is nice animal flap I installed so the dogs and cat can come an go as the please to use the facilities.
We rest. Our slumber is total and comfortable. Our room is clean. I dream of mop buckets and magic erasers.
My beloved wife rises early that Sunday morning. She likes to go downstairs and watch movies before #1 daughter and I wake. Not this day.
She yells up the stairs “WHY IS THERE BLOOD ALL OVER THE WALL??!?!”
My mind races. I know that the love of my life can be a little on the dramatic side. Its funny about her; I find it adorable. I also know that, deep in my heart, something is dead somewhere. I hope it is the cat, no such luck.
I know it isn’t the cat because I turn my head opposite before I descend the stairs to see what Mary is yelling out, and I see it. One of the biggest rats I’ve ever seen. Thankfully dead on the floor in front of the closed bathroom door. Blood everywhere. EVERYWHERE.
This rat was legit 8 inches, not counting the tail. Big fella. Stiff as a board. Apparently it died from blood loss.
I of course had already returned the rug doctor. So I have blamed the cat for this gruesome and frankly yucky redecorating job. Blood on the bathroom door. On the carpet. On the wall. On the stairs landing carpet and wall.
I asked the dogs, they claimed ignorance. I explained that I expect THEM to be killing any rats, and to do it outside. The cat won’t talk without his lawyer present (which he wants me to pay for). My father suggested I question the gerbils, but their counsel (Ashley, age 12) claims they have an alibi and where with her all night.
So as it stands now, I have charged the cat with a vengeance act meant to punish all for locking him out of the bathroom. The newspapers are saying the cat did it as a peace offering, a gesture of goodwill to re-earn a place in our hearts as well as our bathroom. I don’t buy it. He is too much of a creep to do anything that helps others. No, this was premeditated. He waited until the carpet had been cleaned and he did the dirty. The dogs have thoroughly investigated the crime scenes, but haven’t been any help. And to say nothing of the rat, who nobody claims to know.
2020; give it a rest will you?
]]>When I was running the Southern Oregon University computer lab (I was adjunct prof teaching hardware) the helpdesk people came in to do a training on their Novell Groupwise email client.
The guy doing the training, Mike (an old navy guy, a pal) was yapping on and on about how to check and send mail. Then he started in on how good the spam protection was. (2001ish?) “You really aern’t going to see any spam in our system, every email you get is probably real. Some spam gets through… but not much….”,
Now Mike is doing this by projecting on the wall HIS email account. He is logged in and showing HIS email to the group of incoming work study students.
So of course I change my email clients name and “from” address to something nasty like “Sexy Friends4U” or whatever and send him an email subject “Mike T, you recent subscription to hot horny girls needs to be updated”
Which of course does the thing where it flashes in the lower right of the window when he gets a new email, and therefore he and all the students saw it appear on the projector
He had to back peddle and then go into some stuff about fake emails and address book hacking as to why his name was on it.
I never did tell him… he probably figured it out on his own later. It never came up again.
]]>I like to read on the Internet, and even though I’m well past the midway point of my life, I still like to engage in base, puerile humor. It is much better to me than to engage in the world of the grown-ups and deal with the mean-spirited nature of things. (And people. Eff them amirite?)
So, I was reading this story about the language and scientific exploration of part of the popular culture, but really, I was attracted to the work “burp” in the headline. I’m skimming the story like I always do, seeing if I want to burn the ten minutes reading it, when I come to my favorite part of any Internet article; A VIDEO. I start watching the video and hooooo BOY did I not want to finish it. Maybe it was just that day, at that time, where the primordial coincidence of the universe was fully swirling around me in the mostly chaotic way, but I really was a little grossed out by the burp talking.
I’ve watching that Rick and Morty show. I think it is funny, and I’m very well aware of the burp talking but seeing the big super cut all at once was just too much for me thank you.
That was the day I finally become a grown up I commented to the Internet’s eternal memory. At least a few people agreed with me enough to grant me some Internet points.
The moment and source of when this struck me
Since that time, maybe because Murphy was real or karma is a ditch, but I developed a sort of ever-present burp. The kind of little “burrp” that I can make almost any time. Just little ones, never a “buuuurrrrrrrrrrp” or anything too wet. Just the kind of burp you’d record and put into a video game or sell as a part of a sound board. I can do it all the time. I can basically swallow in the same way I’ve always swallowed, and I can then make a burp. I’ve done it five times while I wrote this very paragraph, so I can experience it and describe it.
This is a skill I’ve ALWAYS WANTED. 12-year-old me would have traded a LOT of stuff to be able to burp like this. I still think that the kind of dorks that 12-year-old me hung out with would have really appreciated it. I can’t say for sure, but I think I developed my superpower 30 years too late.
Now I have it, and honestly, I don’t want it. I don’t want to bother or embarrass my wife. I don’t want to stifle the burps on public transportation or hold my fist to my mouth and turn ot the side in my teleconference meetings at work. Now the burping is a burden. And now I can’t stop it.
I got the hiccups once, and I would hiccup and then have (HAVE TO) burp twice after each one. It became torture.
This is what adulthood is. Swell.
There is a silver lining where the same part of me that still wants to watch cartoons when I’m alone, is the same part of me that kind likes the burp. I admit it isn’t the worst. But now it is a dirty shame. Like eating ice cream at midnight or stepping in a dog turd.
]]>If Architects Had to Work Like Web Designers
Please design and build me a house. I am not quite sure of what I need, so you should use your discretion. My house should have somewhere between two and >forty-five bedrooms. Just make sure the plans are such that the bedrooms can be easily added or deleted. When you bring the blueprints to me, I will make the final >decision of what I want. Also, bring me the cost breakdown for each configuration so that I can arbitrarily pick one.
Keep in mind that the house I ultimately choose must cost less than the one I am currently living in. Make sure, however, that you correct all the deficiencies >that exist in my current house (the floor of my kitchen vibrates when I walk across it, and the walls don’t have nearly enough insulation in them).
As you design, also keep in mind that I want to keep yearly maintenance costs as low as possible. This should mean the incorporation of extra-cost features like >aluminum, vinyl, or composite siding. (If you choose not to specify aluminum, be prepared to explain your decision in detail.)
Please take care that modern design practices and the latest materials are used in construction of the house, as I want it to be a showplace for the most >up-to-date ideas and methods. Be alerted, however, that kitchen should be designed to accommodate, among other things, my 1952 Gibson refrigerator.
To insure that you are building the correct house for our entire family, make certain that you contact each of our children, and also our in-laws. My mother-in-law >will have very strong feelings about how the house should be designed, since she visits us at least once a year.
Make sure that you weigh all of these options carefully and come to the right decision. I, however, retain the right to overrule any choices that you make.
Please don’t bother me with small details right now. Your job is to develop the overall plans for the house: Get the big picture. At this time, for example, it is >not appropriate to be choosing the color of the carpet. However, keep in mind that my wife likes blue.
Also, do not worry at this time about acquiring the resources to build the house itself. Your first priority is to develop detailed plans and specifications. Once >I approve these plans, however, I would expect the house to be under roof within 48 hours.
While you are designing this house specifically for me, keep in mind that sooner or later I will have to sell it to someone else. It therefore should have appeal >to a wide variety of potential buyers.
Please make sure before you finalize the plans that there is a consensus of the population in my area that they like the features this house has. I advise you to >run up and look at my neighbor’s house that he constructed last year. We like it a great deal. It has many features that we would also like in our new home, >particularly the 75-foot swimming pool. With careful engineering, I believe that you can design this into our new house without impacting the final cost.
Please prepare a complete set of blueprints. It is not necessary at this time to do the real design, since they will be used only for construction bids. Be advised,> however, that you will be held accountable for any increase of construction costs as a result of later design changes.
You must be thrilled to be working on as an interesting project as this! To be able to use the latest techniques and materials and to be given such freedom in your >designs is something that can’t happen very often.
Contact me as soon as possible with your complete ideas and plans.
PS: My wife has just told me that she disagrees with many of the instructions I’ve given you in this letter. As architect, it is your responsibility to resolve >these differences. I have tried in the past and have been unable to accomplish this. If you can’t handle this responsibility, I will have to find another >architect.
PPS: Perhaps what I need is not a house at all, but a travel trailer. Please advise me as soon as possible if this is the case.
There are so many of these floating around. I guess I won’t comment on the self importance displayed, or lack of customer respect, or even that it doesn’t make a ton of sense here in 2019. My copy is dated 2006, and it is a word file that I know I had in different forms for a couple of years. It was in my email FOR SURE, which is why I made it into a document. So I could read it forever and ever and ever and know how much smarter I am than the people who hired me to do things for them..
sigh.
Anyways, here is some googling I tried to located the earliest copy.
But I guess the one I found at www.smart-jokes.org had the answer. It claimed a copyright for Leo Trotzki.
So even a major philosopher and marxists theorists had rough days doing layout for indecisive customers.
]]>It isn’t a studel like I’ve read about online, it is really flour water and salt, but it brings back the old memories. Grandma would have us over for dinner, there’d be a pot roast and a bowl of strudels. She would make it in a weird roaster thing that was embedded in the countertop, an appliance I had never seen before and have not seen since. My hope is that a croc pot can do the job. When gradma did it, it was really quite the performance that spreadout all over the kitchen counters and table.
Sometimes we’d kids would spend the night. Grandma would ask what we wanted to eat, and if we said strudels, she’d tell us they took too long. She made ‘em half the time anyway. Part of the allure was their rarity. I haven’t made these yet. Hard to tell if I should.
Anyway, here it is, commited to my electronic conscience.
Mix ingredients and let stand 15 minutes to ripen. Pare and slice some potatoes. Put in large roaster, add lard or other shortening, salt and water to half cover potatoes. Bring to boil. Roll dough as thin as you can and pull out as thin as possible. Spread with some butter and lard. Roll into logs and cut in 2 inch pieces. Add to potatoes and cook.
Do not open roaster or they will fall.
When you hear them fry for a few minutes they”ll be ready to eat.
Alice Zwemke via Grandma Neumiller
]]>This was something I couldn’t find online. There are lots of recipes online for something called “lemon ice” but they often aren’t exactly this. I sort of think this is some family thing, depression era food. Tastes good, easy to make, pretty cheap.
I’d often get this with my family when we’d have dinner over at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. There is a kind of a weird “lemon and milk” texture on my mouth, but all the sugar more than made up for it.
Like most things in my life, I don’t have any confusion that this is fine dining or hoi paloi, but I honestly prefer it that way.
Mix Water and Sugar and boil for 5 minutes. Add in Lemon Juice and put into freezer until almost firm.
Whip and then freeze until almost firm again. Repeat if desired. Add the Cool Whip and mix in.
Serve in ice cold sherbet dishes with the meal.
Alice Zwemke via Mother Velma Zwemke
]]>So the GitHub.io pages is a pretty good. In addition to being easy to setup on my laptop, it is easy to publish with things I consider, or am learning, is the best way to run a website.
But I am also taking the time to really focus in on accessibility. Sure, it is good for my job to practice on a simpel site like this one. Lots of lessons to be learned here that will make the daily work job easilier to grasp and understand. But also (and I really like this) accessibility is a civil right. Just the same as a ramp near the stairs or a button to open a door, so to should the stupid Shitty Roommate be available to everybody, equally.
]]>http://arstechnica.com/science/2013/09/size-may-matter-at-least-when-it-comes-to-parenting/
From a biological perspective, life is all about passing on one’s genes, and there are different ways to do that; one way is to invest heavily in a few precious offspring to make sure they survive, while another is to invest a whole lot of time and energy in mating and hope something pans out. Do human males exhibit this tradeoff? To address this question, the Emory researchers turned to testicles.
Yep, you read that right—testicles. Testes size has been linked to reproductive effort in several species; big ones generally mean increased sperm production, which increases the likelihood of mating success. Perhaps men with large testicles would be naturally predisposed to sow their seed rather than stay home with the kids. Guys who are less well-endowed, then, might be more likely to be the nurturing sort.
This is what I read as I am home with my kid after:
So because I am around, helping my kid and doing stuff for her and my family instead of “sowing my seed”, some buttheaded scientists in Atlanta tell me I get to have small nuts too.
Oh well is the only answer I can offer. I guess I am rather proud of my diminished manhood.
Thanks for that, science.
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