Yesterday was a work Holiday. I was paid without having to take vacation time.
My day:
Coffee & Baileys
*censored*
Lunch at Salut
-Summit Winter
-Blue Cheese Burger
REI
Watch Office Space
Starbucks
Get Wine
-Cabernet Savignon
-Pinot Nior
Watch High Society: Ski Movie 2
Jimmy Johns
Red Dragon
-Red Dragon Special
-Almond Delight
-Wonderous Punch
-3/4 Almond Delight
Trocaderos
-Tanqueray Martini
Amy's Apartment
-Cabernet
-Mac & Cheese
-Crackers & Cheese
-Water
-Water
-Water
-Water
-More Water
Wake up in Amy's roommate's bed, fully clothed, including my winter coat.
-No Hangover
The Egg & I
-Coffee
-Ice Water
-Blueberry Multigrain Pancakes
-Sunnyside Eggs with Tabasco
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Endulgence & Consequence
I had a very interesting Tuesday. I started the day back home at the ND farm with a 4 mile non-stop run on the gravel road, and in doing so probably climbed a good 500 feet out of the river bottoms. I felt awesome. A little sore in the calves, but awesome.
I drove to Fargo and had a burger at Granite City(a Champps derivative) which immediately made me sick.
Then, I meet up with Trav at High Balls, and between the two of us, run up a $70 bill consisting of 3 hours at a pool table and Vanilla Stoli Cokes. Gargantuan-bartender-is-an-old-friend-freepouring-the-vodka Vanilla Stoli cokes. Who knows how many we actually drank, but might I remind you this was in Fargo, land of cheap alcohol. Then all of a sudden, I end up with Trav's co-worker dancing on my lap. Trav works at The Northern, we were at The Northern, and Trav thought we might get along well.
Well, I felt like a member of Motley Crue in that I (or Trav) wasn't paying for my generous boobie allowance, but I did pay toll in that she was talking my ear off about rural North Dakota cheerleading & female Army drill instructors, and chainsmoking Marlboros.
I woke up early in the morning Wednesday feeling like I had been out all night smoking, and it was the most revolting feeling I've had in the over two years since I quit for good. My inhaler was missing. I was incredibly dehydrated, and after I finished drinking the Red River down two feet and hopped back into bed, my little brother's alarm clock starts going off. Over & over, I have no idea how to turn the fucker off and in a fit of frustration pull the plug. The fucking thing did not die. I eventually shut off the thing by beating the buttons, which at the time appeared to be labelled in chinese, with my closed fist.
Breakfast at McDonalds was little consolation before driving back to the city on a gloomy day. We got back into the city only to be caught in roadwork traffic on 494.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Tasty Stuff.
I love Indian food.
It's kindof astounding how many people you know who've never had Indian or even ethnic food in general(aside from their own, that is) A perfect case to float my point; earlier this year I brought Hummus & Pita to work for treats one day(among other things) and NOBODY HAD ANY IDEA WHAT TO DO WITH IT.
Everyone seems to forget that long ago, Kings & Queens invented international trade in pursuit of these spices for making their own damn Indian food. Or perhaps they're not forgetting, they were probably just picking their nose in history class.
Sure, there were a few other non-edible items too like silk, cotton, & jewels, but simply, the reason why Columbus and Magellan and Hudson and Da Gama and all those other explorers we read about in middleschool were sailing the seven seas was to procure (or to find cheaper routes to procure) tasty shit from the other side of the world for rich people. Ships sailing from England around the tip of Africa to Bombay & Goa. Crews of men at sea for months risking life & limb for the simple pursuit of saffron and cinnamon and peppers and aniseed and tons of stuff I've probably never even heard of.
Today, we have that luxury at our fingertips, but it's odd how popular McDonalds et al. is in spite of that. Although Taco Bell has an incredible following, you know as well as I do that crap doesn't count. Midwestern people are incredibly xenophobic, and anything outside their comfort range is weird, unacceptable, and threatening to them.
Maybe it is for the better though; I would hate to have such good food be manufactured & genericized like that.
It's kindof astounding how many people you know who've never had Indian or even ethnic food in general(aside from their own, that is) A perfect case to float my point; earlier this year I brought Hummus & Pita to work for treats one day(among other things) and NOBODY HAD ANY IDEA WHAT TO DO WITH IT.
Everyone seems to forget that long ago, Kings & Queens invented international trade in pursuit of these spices for making their own damn Indian food. Or perhaps they're not forgetting, they were probably just picking their nose in history class.
Sure, there were a few other non-edible items too like silk, cotton, & jewels, but simply, the reason why Columbus and Magellan and Hudson and Da Gama and all those other explorers we read about in middleschool were sailing the seven seas was to procure (or to find cheaper routes to procure) tasty shit from the other side of the world for rich people. Ships sailing from England around the tip of Africa to Bombay & Goa. Crews of men at sea for months risking life & limb for the simple pursuit of saffron and cinnamon and peppers and aniseed and tons of stuff I've probably never even heard of.
Today, we have that luxury at our fingertips, but it's odd how popular McDonalds et al. is in spite of that. Although Taco Bell has an incredible following, you know as well as I do that crap doesn't count. Midwestern people are incredibly xenophobic, and anything outside their comfort range is weird, unacceptable, and threatening to them.
Maybe it is for the better though; I would hate to have such good food be manufactured & genericized like that.
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Cowboys
I just saw Brokeback Mountain last night. A great movie; incredible imagery/cinematography, character development, but a sad story about living a lie. I wouldn't suggest seeing it if you ever have a propensity to feel lonely.
One thing it did *for a few minutes* was to romanticize the cowboy life. At least the working cowboy, not so much the rodeo cowboy. Living off of next to no income, far off in the mountains, working dead end jobs, getting whiskey'ed up & twostepping with barrel-racing cowgirls, living in the moment. Janis Joplin said Freedom is just another word for "nothing left to lose."
I grew up not far from where this is reality for many people. If not for parents who pushed me to go to college; I could be fixing fence, building corrals, moving cattle, tilting my cowboy hat down in front of the campfire, etc.
But then I realized this is not reality.
When I was home to the family farm over thanksgiving, I took this photo of my father moving cattle. Cows follow tractors with hay.
Not a cowboy hat, a horse, a lasso, or a winchester to be seen. Not even a dog.
That being said, I still want a pair of cowboy boots.
One thing it did *for a few minutes* was to romanticize the cowboy life. At least the working cowboy, not so much the rodeo cowboy. Living off of next to no income, far off in the mountains, working dead end jobs, getting whiskey'ed up & twostepping with barrel-racing cowgirls, living in the moment. Janis Joplin said Freedom is just another word for "nothing left to lose."
I grew up not far from where this is reality for many people. If not for parents who pushed me to go to college; I could be fixing fence, building corrals, moving cattle, tilting my cowboy hat down in front of the campfire, etc.
But then I realized this is not reality.
When I was home to the family farm over thanksgiving, I took this photo of my father moving cattle. Cows follow tractors with hay.
Not a cowboy hat, a horse, a lasso, or a winchester to be seen. Not even a dog.
That being said, I still want a pair of cowboy boots.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Fortune Cookie
I love fortune cookies. Well, I love fortunes from fortune cookies. My most prized fortune reads:
"You will never find a better sparring partner than adversity."
Friday, December 9, 2005
Just my luck
Today, I was getting an oil change and the serviceman steps into the waitingroom. I hate servicemen at car dealerships--without even knowing them, I know they're trying to fuck me big time.
He tells me that the CV boot is leaking. This means you have to pull everything apart: wheel, brakes, axle, etc...to replace the boot, and probably replace an expensive hub.
The serviceman quoted me the price to do both sides, since apparently you have to take both side apart to get at one boot. Doing both sides together would save me $60 in labor---here's the mind boggling part....THE OTHER SIDE ISN'T FUCKING BROKEN!!
He actually wanted me to pay an extra $250-$300 to fix & replace parts that are working fine!!!!
Fuck You,Village Chevrolet. Fuck you.
He tells me that the CV boot is leaking. This means you have to pull everything apart: wheel, brakes, axle, etc...to replace the boot, and probably replace an expensive hub.
The serviceman quoted me the price to do both sides, since apparently you have to take both side apart to get at one boot. Doing both sides together would save me $60 in labor---here's the mind boggling part....THE OTHER SIDE ISN'T FUCKING BROKEN!!
He actually wanted me to pay an extra $250-$300 to fix & replace parts that are working fine!!!!
Fuck You,Village Chevrolet. Fuck you.
A deep analytical dive into an incredibly unsavory minutia of Christmas.
I hate Christmas music. I can't be the only one here. What other music do you hear repeatedly in every public place 1/12th of the year? That is 27 entire months of my life -- 2.25 years in total I've heard this crap regurgitated through every MUZAK system in places of business, malls, elevators, restaurants, waiting rooms, government buildings, public squares, and car stereos of the bimbo soccermom's SUV next to me at the stoplight. I bet there's a crack house somewhere playing a silent night on repeat throughout december; with some junkie getting up from the corner periodically to flip the cassette inbetween fits of seizure.
I completely sympathize with anyone who works at a T-Mobile Kiosk in Southdale mall whose phychiatrist prescibes a daily cocktail of anti-depressants and horse tranquilizers to keep them sedated sufficiently from real life to prevent them from walking to work one day with a sawed-off 10 gauge shotgun. Thank the decade we're living in that I have a computer with a CD player & headphones at work.
Is it possible to be ANYWHERE in public on a December day and NOT hear "Jingle Bell Rock" 87 fucking times a day?
Jingle bell rock is an odd case for christmas music. It's probably the only song to break into mainstream MUZAK in the last 30 years. You hear all the others: O Come all ye faithful, silent night, the first noel, et al. Almost always in various incarnations like jazz or annoying elevator music synthesized instrumentals(remnants from the soulless 80's), sometimes its from "BARRY MANILOW SINGS CHRISTMAS" or some equally relevant pop star of yesteryear who can barely finance their coke & whore habit from their nightly Vegas appearances, but it's always the same select group of songs.
You never hear modern pop/rock/whatever adding to this queue. Why is this? How did some no-name, CLEARLY-not-rock band slide "Jingle Bell Rock" into the Chistmas playlist? It probably has alot to do with aging hipster babyboomers trying to metaphorically unbutton their collar to blend in with the young crowd without stepping outside the circle of their conservative idealogy. It's so sad to see old lamers trying to be hip--weren't you ever cool when you were a kid; even for 5 minutes? Nothing will save you now. Sorry. Playing "jingle bell rock" won't make the office fun, hip, or edgy.
Am I trying to be a Grinch? No. Am I launching an assault upon the infant messiah? No. I would take a much different stand if I was aguing with the frivouality(I know that's not spelled right) of cognizantly continuing the practice a ridiculous tradition.
I just cant stand to hear these songs so many goddamn times. Hey -- Do you know why people hate Hanson's MMM Bop, and that ludicrous Cotton Eye Joe song? Because they were played way more times that their novelty allowed. I could've probably stood to like MMM Bop for a few plays, but you know what?!?!?....the first time I heard it, my girlfriend at the time said, "OhhhhhHHH, not this frikkin' song again" If someone wrote songs about you; would you want them overplayed like a week-old-boyband song on every "TODAY's LATEST HITS" bubblegum radiostation? Of course you wouldn't. I would want it played sparingly enough that entire crowds of people stop in the middle of thoughts and conversation to listen....like when Jimmy Page breaks into the Stairway to Heaven solo. Now THAT song was made for a newborn king.
And I can tell everyone who cares to think now & then is bothered by it. Anyone whose mother drags them to a lutheran church before dinner on Christmas Day for the candlelight service knows my point before I make it. 500 people dressed in argyle sweaters mumbling mindlessly to the droning organ. .....With the exception of 4 people in the entire congregation, up 40 decibels above everyone else singing with perfect enunciation and resonance like they're starring in the opening night of a broadway show.
And it's these people who are responsible for playing this music constantly throughout December. That's the gal who always reacts with 4 times more emotion than required. This veneer of zest, sass, and crystal-meth-like hyperactivity is the archetypical defense mechanism of a plainjane-midwestern-overweight-single-in-her-mid-thirties women with a cat, a porcelain figurine, and a doll on her bed for each of her IQ points. You feel sad for them, so you smile, swear under your breath, and let them play Jingle Bell Rock.
I completely sympathize with anyone who works at a T-Mobile Kiosk in Southdale mall whose phychiatrist prescibes a daily cocktail of anti-depressants and horse tranquilizers to keep them sedated sufficiently from real life to prevent them from walking to work one day with a sawed-off 10 gauge shotgun. Thank the decade we're living in that I have a computer with a CD player & headphones at work.
Is it possible to be ANYWHERE in public on a December day and NOT hear "Jingle Bell Rock" 87 fucking times a day?
Jingle bell rock is an odd case for christmas music. It's probably the only song to break into mainstream MUZAK in the last 30 years. You hear all the others: O Come all ye faithful, silent night, the first noel, et al. Almost always in various incarnations like jazz or annoying elevator music synthesized instrumentals(remnants from the soulless 80's), sometimes its from "BARRY MANILOW SINGS CHRISTMAS" or some equally relevant pop star of yesteryear who can barely finance their coke & whore habit from their nightly Vegas appearances, but it's always the same select group of songs.
You never hear modern pop/rock/whatever adding to this queue. Why is this? How did some no-name, CLEARLY-not-rock band slide "Jingle Bell Rock" into the Chistmas playlist? It probably has alot to do with aging hipster babyboomers trying to metaphorically unbutton their collar to blend in with the young crowd without stepping outside the circle of their conservative idealogy. It's so sad to see old lamers trying to be hip--weren't you ever cool when you were a kid; even for 5 minutes? Nothing will save you now. Sorry. Playing "jingle bell rock" won't make the office fun, hip, or edgy.
Am I trying to be a Grinch? No. Am I launching an assault upon the infant messiah? No. I would take a much different stand if I was aguing with the frivouality(I know that's not spelled right) of cognizantly continuing the practice a ridiculous tradition.
I just cant stand to hear these songs so many goddamn times. Hey -- Do you know why people hate Hanson's MMM Bop, and that ludicrous Cotton Eye Joe song? Because they were played way more times that their novelty allowed. I could've probably stood to like MMM Bop for a few plays, but you know what?!?!?....the first time I heard it, my girlfriend at the time said, "OhhhhhHHH, not this frikkin' song again" If someone wrote songs about you; would you want them overplayed like a week-old-boyband song on every "TODAY's LATEST HITS" bubblegum radiostation? Of course you wouldn't. I would want it played sparingly enough that entire crowds of people stop in the middle of thoughts and conversation to listen....like when Jimmy Page breaks into the Stairway to Heaven solo. Now THAT song was made for a newborn king.
And I can tell everyone who cares to think now & then is bothered by it. Anyone whose mother drags them to a lutheran church before dinner on Christmas Day for the candlelight service knows my point before I make it. 500 people dressed in argyle sweaters mumbling mindlessly to the droning organ. .....With the exception of 4 people in the entire congregation, up 40 decibels above everyone else singing with perfect enunciation and resonance like they're starring in the opening night of a broadway show.
And it's these people who are responsible for playing this music constantly throughout December. That's the gal who always reacts with 4 times more emotion than required. This veneer of zest, sass, and crystal-meth-like hyperactivity is the archetypical defense mechanism of a plainjane-midwestern-overweight-single-in-her-mid-thirties women with a cat, a porcelain figurine, and a doll on her bed for each of her IQ points. You feel sad for them, so you smile, swear under your breath, and let them play Jingle Bell Rock.
Saturday, December 3, 2005
When my mind wanders at work
You know how you always see those major league jackasses on the road in their Suburbans or H2's at night driving by themselves, but with all 87 monitors in their vehicle playing some movie or music video?
I'm going to get the new video iPod and an armband for the gym, and play videos the whole fucking time! You're on the treadmill next to me, just walking along , until you look over and see my arm with my iPod on it.....Playing a fucking White Stripes video!
And then you, completely entranced & not paying attention, trip on the treadmill and fall face first on the belt.
I'm going to get the new video iPod and an armband for the gym, and play videos the whole fucking time! You're on the treadmill next to me, just walking along , until you look over and see my arm with my iPod on it.....Playing a fucking White Stripes video!
And then you, completely entranced & not paying attention, trip on the treadmill and fall face first on the belt.
Sunday, November 27, 2005
Bismarck, ND
....is probably the only place in the world where you can watch people two step to a band covering Twisted Sister, Green Day, EMF, the Phish-esque arrangement of "gin & juice" and a whole buncha other completely un-two-steppable songs I could recall if I wasn't sucking down colorado bulldogs.
Hmmm. Thinking about that a bit more...the opposite is probably way more true. I'm now beginning to think that there are far fewer places in the world where people don't two-step to Twisted Sister.
This should trouble EVERYONE.
Hmmm. Thinking about that a bit more...the opposite is probably way more true. I'm now beginning to think that there are far fewer places in the world where people don't two-step to Twisted Sister.
This should trouble EVERYONE.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
Reflection
Chuck Klosterman claims that Pamela Anderson is the new Marilyn Monroe. He doesn't base his claim on grounds that Pam has made numerous great movies, or dated the president, etc; but he does make the valid claim that they are both perfect sex symbols for their generations. Monroe married Joe DiMaggio, the paramount archetype of his generation; a good looking jock. Pam married Tommy Lee, a freak famous for being famous. And then had a long tryst with Kid Rock, a soulless hack.
But I think Pam is past her spotlight for this generation, and I can think of only one person to be her successor.
Paris Hilton. She's famous only for being rich, and of course, having sex with Rick Solomon, a porno producer. The rate at which the video spread should be testament to my claim.
Paris typifies the "girls gone wild culture" through a stunning display of superficiality, soullessness, and unidimensional personailty.
The Tommy Lee's, Dennis Rodman's, and Marilyn Manson's are over too. Take a look at the guys she dates: Pointless 20-somethings with billionaire grandparents, drifting from one manhattan or LA club to the next. Which, of course has become the perfect man of our generation. They're all nameless outside their group of syncopants, because they're all completely generic.
And I'm pretty sure that she's Satan.
But I think Pam is past her spotlight for this generation, and I can think of only one person to be her successor.
Paris Hilton. She's famous only for being rich, and of course, having sex with Rick Solomon, a porno producer. The rate at which the video spread should be testament to my claim.
Paris typifies the "girls gone wild culture" through a stunning display of superficiality, soullessness, and unidimensional personailty.
The Tommy Lee's, Dennis Rodman's, and Marilyn Manson's are over too. Take a look at the guys she dates: Pointless 20-somethings with billionaire grandparents, drifting from one manhattan or LA club to the next. Which, of course has become the perfect man of our generation. They're all nameless outside their group of syncopants, because they're all completely generic.
And I'm pretty sure that she's Satan.
Sonofabitch
I was tidying up today, and I was taking some crap out of my apartment to my storage space. I had the window open, and there was a gust as I let go of the door, making it slam closed very hard.
I get back into my apartment and my framed 89.3 The Current Vinyl LP is on the floor. Shattered glass from the pane is spread about the hardwood floor. I'm barefoot, of course.
But that's not the only damage that's been done. The frame's impact was broken by my brand new ALDO boots. They're nicely scratched right on the toe.
I'm beginning to believe that no matter what you do, it's impossible to keep nice footwear nice.
I get back into my apartment and my framed 89.3 The Current Vinyl LP is on the floor. Shattered glass from the pane is spread about the hardwood floor. I'm barefoot, of course.
But that's not the only damage that's been done. The frame's impact was broken by my brand new ALDO boots. They're nicely scratched right on the toe.
I'm beginning to believe that no matter what you do, it's impossible to keep nice footwear nice.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
On my Resume, It says I'm a problem solver
Problem: You can't stop farting at your desk/cube/office.
Solution: Take the cap off your much stinkier permanent marker & wave it around & blow on the tip to mask the scent.
Friday, October 7, 2005
Thork + Metal
I have been modified. Yes, I now have metal in my mouth--compliments of my M&M addiction, and my dentist Dr. Le.
Anyways, as I walk into the office, an old lady is leaving, and my dentist points out the cotton swab sticking out of her mouth, and bids her a good weekend. The hygenist, Christie(my dentist's hygenist), with her goes "Oops!" and pulls it out. Yech.
Anyways, I get all 5 off my teeth metallically repaired, half of my mouth completely numb as I'm walking home. Of course, it's impossible to do anything with your mouth, and I'm full of spit.
I do my best, but I want to make sure that I don't bite down on my tongue while I close it, so I stick my fingers in my mouth to push it over and.......
.... waaaaaat the fuck is this?
A fucking cotton swab.
Be glad your income doesn't rely on tips, Christie.
Anyways, as I walk into the office, an old lady is leaving, and my dentist points out the cotton swab sticking out of her mouth, and bids her a good weekend. The hygenist, Christie(my dentist's hygenist), with her goes "Oops!" and pulls it out. Yech.
Anyways, I get all 5 off my teeth metallically repaired, half of my mouth completely numb as I'm walking home. Of course, it's impossible to do anything with your mouth, and I'm full of spit.
I do my best, but I want to make sure that I don't bite down on my tongue while I close it, so I stick my fingers in my mouth to push it over and.......
.... waaaaaat the fuck is this?
A fucking cotton swab.
Be glad your income doesn't rely on tips, Christie.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
I've got it under control
Hell broke loose today on my project; we had a quality failure, and our customer issued a complaint and started emailing nastygrams. My boss pulled me into his office, ready to put the screws to me, and I already had shit under control. Plan A is complete, and I have a fucking awesome failsafe Plan B.
Here's how I know plan B is awesome. I sent photos of plan B to out pissed off customer who sent back an email (copying everyone, mind you) saying, "Thork, if you can get that to work on a production scale, I will build a statue of you here at XXXXXX"
It feels good to kick ass sometimes.
Here's how I know plan B is awesome. I sent photos of plan B to out pissed off customer who sent back an email (copying everyone, mind you) saying, "Thork, if you can get that to work on a production scale, I will build a statue of you here at XXXXXX"
It feels good to kick ass sometimes.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
Fotos
So I bought a camera a few months ago. I'm still learning how it works, but
here are a few I've been happy with.
If you've got a flickr account as well, show me your genius.
here are a few I've been happy with.
If you've got a flickr account as well, show me your genius.
Tuesday, September 6, 2005
Mark of the Beast
I just spent 46.65 to fill my tank of gas. Which was exactly 16.666 gallons.
Now. It's coincidences such as these that make me believe that christian liturgy has more weight to it than I've previously thought. Which places an agnostic...ist such as myself a few inches off the bullseye.
That being said, seeing this schnappszahl (see german) where I did has me understanding who is in charge, and what his "foot-in-the-door" is. Believeable, considering the violence and avarice which seems to always accompany petroleum on this planet.
And if we do happen to have a sentient "intelligent designer", he/she/it is not omnipotent, or not benevolent. Or both. Which is in direct opposition to the word of every clergyman every "mono-deist" religion I can think of.
So I'm going to be riding my bike more often. (Speaking of which; yesterday, I probably saved $10 in gas and spent 500 calories riding my bike around town)
Also, and I've been doing this for a while now, I'm never going to spend another dime at a "convenience store" outside of gas. It's getting more & more expensive to live in this country, and the only way to have your voice heard will soon be to keep your own money in your own pocket. Maybe you'll hear me. Or maybe not. I can't speak billions loud.
(And I think someone is trying to squelch this voice. This is my 3rd try to post this blog entry)
Now. It's coincidences such as these that make me believe that christian liturgy has more weight to it than I've previously thought. Which places an agnostic...ist such as myself a few inches off the bullseye.
That being said, seeing this schnappszahl (see german) where I did has me understanding who is in charge, and what his "foot-in-the-door" is. Believeable, considering the violence and avarice which seems to always accompany petroleum on this planet.
And if we do happen to have a sentient "intelligent designer", he/she/it is not omnipotent, or not benevolent. Or both. Which is in direct opposition to the word of every clergyman every "mono-deist" religion I can think of.
So I'm going to be riding my bike more often. (Speaking of which; yesterday, I probably saved $10 in gas and spent 500 calories riding my bike around town)
Also, and I've been doing this for a while now, I'm never going to spend another dime at a "convenience store" outside of gas. It's getting more & more expensive to live in this country, and the only way to have your voice heard will soon be to keep your own money in your own pocket. Maybe you'll hear me. Or maybe not. I can't speak billions loud.
(And I think someone is trying to squelch this voice. This is my 3rd try to post this blog entry)
It's my lucky day, or I've been had
My car broke, and it cost me $200 to fix it. It's my lucky day, and I'm not being facetious. My catalytic converter was jammed up, and it needed to be replaced. Catalytic converters usually cost about $500, because they have essential components made of Platinum and Rhodium.
On a loosely related topic, I think I'm going to do some dumpster diving tonight.
But why was it cheap? I just passed my factory warrantee; I was assuming that this would've been all covered under my extended warrantee that I purchased.
Nope. But when I let go of that long, painful sigh to the servicemen, he said "management has agreed to waive all but $200" of the service. I could have left paying $700 today. (I'm guessing I got the thing @cost)
Either I had an unknown friend pull some strings, or I've been had. The serviceman told me "these things aren't supposed to go out," but it's all a bit fishy. They could've not told my it was covered, paid the warantee company my deductable $100, and put the rest in their pocket.
I'm going to find out. As a mechanical engineer, I should have little problem detecting whether they replaced it or refurbed/repaired my CatConv.
I was trained to be an Engineer, but I've also learned how to be a Reverse Engineer
On a loosely related topic, I think I'm going to do some dumpster diving tonight.
But why was it cheap? I just passed my factory warrantee; I was assuming that this would've been all covered under my extended warrantee that I purchased.
Nope. But when I let go of that long, painful sigh to the servicemen, he said "management has agreed to waive all but $200" of the service. I could have left paying $700 today. (I'm guessing I got the thing @cost)
Either I had an unknown friend pull some strings, or I've been had. The serviceman told me "these things aren't supposed to go out," but it's all a bit fishy. They could've not told my it was covered, paid the warantee company my deductable $100, and put the rest in their pocket.
I'm going to find out. As a mechanical engineer, I should have little problem detecting whether they replaced it or refurbed/repaired my CatConv.
I was trained to be an Engineer, but I've also learned how to be a Reverse Engineer
A few things
I'm beginning to think the true reason behind cologne samples in men's magazines is to cover up other....scents in the bathroom.
Blueberries are superfoods. Just as I anticipated.*rubbing my hands together* I'm not going to cite my source. Ok, ok. Her name was Dara.
I probably dream more during waking hours than I do when I'm asleep. Don't mention this to my boss.
Obese people should not be allowed to wear the "livestrong" bracelets. Pardon me for being abrasive, you aren't living strong. You are living weak on a couch succumbing to cheese doodles. Lance lives on a bicycle going uphill, and succumbs only to Sheryl Crow. Boing.
More abrasion. Remember the story about the man who built his house on the ocean, and the other man who built his house on the rock? And then the part where the man on the ocean's house got washed away by the ocean, and the man on the rock was ok?
It wasn't part of the story, but I think it was a given what happens to the guy who builds his house on the coast below sea level. The moral of the story is don't do that!!!!! WHAT DO YOU EXPECT? The least you could do is make sure his Army Corps of Engineers is well funded. Which it was not.
Blueberries are superfoods. Just as I anticipated.*rubbing my hands together* I'm not going to cite my source. Ok, ok. Her name was Dara.
I probably dream more during waking hours than I do when I'm asleep. Don't mention this to my boss.
Obese people should not be allowed to wear the "livestrong" bracelets. Pardon me for being abrasive, you aren't living strong. You are living weak on a couch succumbing to cheese doodles. Lance lives on a bicycle going uphill, and succumbs only to Sheryl Crow. Boing.
More abrasion. Remember the story about the man who built his house on the ocean, and the other man who built his house on the rock? And then the part where the man on the ocean's house got washed away by the ocean, and the man on the rock was ok?
It wasn't part of the story, but I think it was a given what happens to the guy who builds his house on the coast below sea level. The moral of the story is don't do that!!!!! WHAT DO YOU EXPECT? The least you could do is make sure his Army Corps of Engineers is well funded. Which it was not.
Monday, August 22, 2005
Andrew is......
Directions: Type "(your name) is" with the quotes, into a Google search then pick out your favorite 10 responses. Copy, then repost your responses:
1. Andrew is a loony · He hasn't slept in something like 48 hours now. He's a loony.
2. Andrew is one of the most coolest skateboarders in the world, He rocks.
3. now that mr.pants is gone, andrew is the funniest fucker alive. The ultimate
representation of beauty.
4.Andrew is considered to be the living Buddha and is treated that way by his constituents. I saw them collect $1000 for a vase to put flowers in for him. He owns a Volvo Turbo R sports car and other high priced things. He's an effete snob. He is waited on hand and foot like royalty by his students. He is fed like a king and they give him every wish. It's disgusting to watch.
5. Andrew is also serious about inventing and says he is continuously inspired, and at times, he claims to have seen his ideas materialise some years later. One such idea was a new design for an ice cube tray that allows you to release one cube at a time; which he says is now manufactured by a large company. His ideas are often laced with humour, for example, the "single-handed page turner for reading Playboy!"
6. Andrew is basically a perfect creature - he's an angel
7. Andrew is a would-be actor (he played a retarded quarterback on a made-for-cable movie)
8. Andrew is the musical equivalent of cotton candy: it's great to eat once in a while and tastes sugary-sweet going down, but you shouldn't eat too much of it, since it's all mostly fluff.
9. Andrew is quickly seduced by the power of evil...Andrew is introduced to us as a morally ambiguous ‘evil genius’
10. Andrew is all riled up, I suppose he's going to take his balls and go home.
I'm pretty sure ..3 is my favorite. It scores a 10 on the "what the fuck?" scale.
1. Andrew is a loony · He hasn't slept in something like 48 hours now. He's a loony.
2. Andrew is one of the most coolest skateboarders in the world, He rocks.
3. now that mr.pants is gone, andrew is the funniest fucker alive. The ultimate
representation of beauty.
4.Andrew is considered to be the living Buddha and is treated that way by his constituents. I saw them collect $1000 for a vase to put flowers in for him. He owns a Volvo Turbo R sports car and other high priced things. He's an effete snob. He is waited on hand and foot like royalty by his students. He is fed like a king and they give him every wish. It's disgusting to watch.
5. Andrew is also serious about inventing and says he is continuously inspired, and at times, he claims to have seen his ideas materialise some years later. One such idea was a new design for an ice cube tray that allows you to release one cube at a time; which he says is now manufactured by a large company. His ideas are often laced with humour, for example, the "single-handed page turner for reading Playboy!"
6. Andrew is basically a perfect creature - he's an angel
7. Andrew is a would-be actor (he played a retarded quarterback on a made-for-cable movie)
8. Andrew is the musical equivalent of cotton candy: it's great to eat once in a while and tastes sugary-sweet going down, but you shouldn't eat too much of it, since it's all mostly fluff.
9. Andrew is quickly seduced by the power of evil...Andrew is introduced to us as a morally ambiguous ‘evil genius’
10. Andrew is all riled up, I suppose he's going to take his balls and go home.
I'm pretty sure ..3 is my favorite. It scores a 10 on the "what the fuck?" scale.
Friday, August 5, 2005
Eye Candy
I'm a very spacial thinker, which explains my infatuation with maps. Now, I'm sure that most of this obsession is rooted in the fact that I'm very poorly travelled. I have lived 13/50ths of a century, but have never crossed an ocean. Sad. So I compensate by exploring the world via paper drawings and daydreaming.
Road maps, Political/geographical maps, neighborhood maps, and even cardiovascular system diagrams; my world atlas is to my eyes what....well, boobs & hiked up skirts are to my eyes.
But now.....now, the ne plus ultra of all maps has arisen from the megalomaniacs at Google.com! MAPS.google.com. Realtime panning & zooming are only a mouseclick away! But this is no ordinary online roadmap like mapquest, et al. Not only can I get conveniently get directions from this pot of gold, but I can just as easily see a satellite photo! I can actually see where I want to go--but not necessarily across town. For the most part, the entire US & UK, and Japan have detailed satellite photos in addition to the roadmaps. And most of the world has satellite photos visible. I can see it all....on friday, I went to washington square park, Tokyo(ckeck out the road map), my parent's house, Sydney, South Beach, downtown Minny, Oslo, Venice, and my apartment, all from the comfort of my cubicle.
But wait! There's more. When I'm finished looking at every last obscure city, landmark, mountain range & nude beach on earth, I can now start all over on the moon! That's right. MOON.google.com
Road maps, Political/geographical maps, neighborhood maps, and even cardiovascular system diagrams; my world atlas is to my eyes what....well, boobs & hiked up skirts are to my eyes.
But now.....now, the ne plus ultra of all maps has arisen from the megalomaniacs at Google.com! MAPS.google.com. Realtime panning & zooming are only a mouseclick away! But this is no ordinary online roadmap like mapquest, et al. Not only can I get conveniently get directions from this pot of gold, but I can just as easily see a satellite photo! I can actually see where I want to go--but not necessarily across town. For the most part, the entire US & UK, and Japan have detailed satellite photos in addition to the roadmaps. And most of the world has satellite photos visible. I can see it all....on friday, I went to washington square park, Tokyo(ckeck out the road map), my parent's house, Sydney, South Beach, downtown Minny, Oslo, Venice, and my apartment, all from the comfort of my cubicle.
But wait! There's more. When I'm finished looking at every last obscure city, landmark, mountain range & nude beach on earth, I can now start all over on the moon! That's right. MOON.google.com
Friday, July 22, 2005
We've Lost Something
I see children everywhere. I speak specifically of the little kind -- the ones just learning to talk and walk. At the grocery store, the park, around my building. Not alone, of course, but do you ever notice something about them? They're way different than we are; like a different race it seems.
They're humanity in its rawest form. It can be easy for us to become ensnared in life's bullshit, to feel defeated, but I'm always filled with hope and exultance when little strangers say hi to me. Gaze at you for a second and then laugh at the top of their lungs. Or run over and hug your leg. And always smiling at you, at everyone.
It's how we humans were meant to be, you know.
They're humanity in its rawest form. It can be easy for us to become ensnared in life's bullshit, to feel defeated, but I'm always filled with hope and exultance when little strangers say hi to me. Gaze at you for a second and then laugh at the top of their lungs. Or run over and hug your leg. And always smiling at you, at everyone.
It's how we humans were meant to be, you know.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
...I am an Island
Email conversation from work today.
Me: Vlad, I found 10 wires for that will be acceptable for use in our gage study! Andy
My Russian co-worker: You are Rock. Thanks. Vlad.
Me: Vlad, I found 10 wires for that will be acceptable for use in our gage study! Andy
My Russian co-worker: You are Rock. Thanks. Vlad.
Sunday, July 17, 2005
18th
of 46 in my age group, according to the unofficial time sheet I saw.
The official results aren't completely updated yet, but hopefully there were more than 18 in my group who actually crossed the finish line, because my parents said there were a bunch of guys in my group who got into the middle of the lake, panicked, and were pulled out of the water.
I didn't see this happening, but I slammed into/inapropriately poked a ton of people in the murkiness of lake nokomis. Pretty gross, really, my goggles gave me visibility up to about 6 inches past my fingertips. I suppose I would've started panicking if I swallowed water like they were.
update: 18th of 55.
The official results aren't completely updated yet, but hopefully there were more than 18 in my group who actually crossed the finish line, because my parents said there were a bunch of guys in my group who got into the middle of the lake, panicked, and were pulled out of the water.
I didn't see this happening, but I slammed into/inapropriately poked a ton of people in the murkiness of lake nokomis. Pretty gross, really, my goggles gave me visibility up to about 6 inches past my fingertips. I suppose I would've started panicking if I swallowed water like they were.
update: 18th of 55.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Bike Crash
So for anyone who cares to know my goings-ons, I'm participating in this Triathlon.
Anyway, I'm out training on my silly-expensive-racer bike after a swim (2 days til the event). Now I'm usually a meticulously cautious person, but tonight I was fearless, and kinda reckless. But not Wreck-less. (buh - dum - pssshhhhh)
I started out my ride by pulling onto a 4 lane street, right in front of a very large 70's cadillac, subconsciously assuming that the driver was paying attention and would pull into the other lane. Nope. He was on my ass within a few seconds, but he swerved past me on his way.
I get onto the bike trail, where there are no cars, and I start shooting gaps in top gear between rollerbladers and not-as-cool-as-me-bicyclists while tucked way down on my handlebars.
Now I'm on my way home, and I see the traffic light is blinking red, meaning everyone stops like a 4-way stop. There are two cars stopped: some lady taking a left turn on the right, and a dude in an Orange VW bug on the left. Again, I make one of those split second decisions---I'm fucking going! The lady hesitates in the middle of the intersection, thinking Mr. Bug has right of way as I fly past her.
I don't think she saw me until I flew past her bumper. The dude in the bug yells, "you got balls of steel" OK. maybe that's just what I heard. What came from his mouth was probably way different. But it's my story, and that's how it will go down in history, ok?
Ok. Where did I crash?
In the middle of my ride on the trail. Thoroughly aware that there is a sharp turn leading onto railroad crossing ahead of me, I hit the brakes at the last second. My back tire locks up, whipping out to the side, so I have to ease up on it---which means I'm not slowing down anymore, and I'm now aimed away from the railroad crossing---and am careering (not careening) to the railROAD.
Somehow my reflexes tell me to jump off the bike & lay it on it's side. The front tire hits the rail, and I land in the grass -- perfect dismount, stick the landing, wave to the judges.. o fuck o fuck o fuck...nevermind. The bike is fine. What?
I think to myself and wonder where I got the reflexes to pull that off, being that I haven't owned a bike for about 7 years. Not kidding. I remember back to the farm at age 9 riding my little BMX as fast as I can, locking the brakes and stopping sideways on the lawn, and my grandpa irate because I ripped up the lawn.
Ha. Who'da known that would be handy 16 years later? I'll hafta counter his "what the hell are you doing?" next time I see him.
I don't know what was wrong with me tonight, but I think there's a good reason my everyday cautiousness is written into my genetic code.
Anyway, I'm out training on my silly-expensive-racer bike after a swim (2 days til the event). Now I'm usually a meticulously cautious person, but tonight I was fearless, and kinda reckless. But not Wreck-less. (buh - dum - pssshhhhh)
I started out my ride by pulling onto a 4 lane street, right in front of a very large 70's cadillac, subconsciously assuming that the driver was paying attention and would pull into the other lane. Nope. He was on my ass within a few seconds, but he swerved past me on his way.
I get onto the bike trail, where there are no cars, and I start shooting gaps in top gear between rollerbladers and not-as-cool-as-me-bicyclists while tucked way down on my handlebars.
Now I'm on my way home, and I see the traffic light is blinking red, meaning everyone stops like a 4-way stop. There are two cars stopped: some lady taking a left turn on the right, and a dude in an Orange VW bug on the left. Again, I make one of those split second decisions---I'm fucking going! The lady hesitates in the middle of the intersection, thinking Mr. Bug has right of way as I fly past her.
I don't think she saw me until I flew past her bumper. The dude in the bug yells, "you got balls of steel" OK. maybe that's just what I heard. What came from his mouth was probably way different. But it's my story, and that's how it will go down in history, ok?
Ok. Where did I crash?
In the middle of my ride on the trail. Thoroughly aware that there is a sharp turn leading onto railroad crossing ahead of me, I hit the brakes at the last second. My back tire locks up, whipping out to the side, so I have to ease up on it---which means I'm not slowing down anymore, and I'm now aimed away from the railroad crossing---and am careering (not careening) to the railROAD.
Somehow my reflexes tell me to jump off the bike & lay it on it's side. The front tire hits the rail, and I land in the grass -- perfect dismount, stick the landing, wave to the judges.. o fuck o fuck o fuck...nevermind. The bike is fine. What?
I think to myself and wonder where I got the reflexes to pull that off, being that I haven't owned a bike for about 7 years. Not kidding. I remember back to the farm at age 9 riding my little BMX as fast as I can, locking the brakes and stopping sideways on the lawn, and my grandpa irate because I ripped up the lawn.
Ha. Who'da known that would be handy 16 years later? I'll hafta counter his "what the hell are you doing?" next time I see him.
I don't know what was wrong with me tonight, but I think there's a good reason my everyday cautiousness is written into my genetic code.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Mayfly
This morning I sat down at my desk to see a mayfly sitting on my monitor. Over the night, it had made it through 3 security levels only to end at my desk. Those things only live about 24 hours, so it probably spent half it's lifespan working its way up through my office, only to die here alone. Sad. Alot of PEOPLE will end up that way.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Oh, I am so Pissed
So. Again I'm shaking my fist to the sky. I'm actually making the above "irritated smiley" right now.
Isn't it supposed to go "April Showers bring May flowers?" Someone forgot to send "Mother Minnesota Nature" the memo. But so far, it's been "April sunshine brings snow(yes snow) and persistant rain in May perfectly timed to piss off Andrew."
I bought this sooped-up-racing-bike for the Triathlon I'm competing in this July. I actually purchased it last week, but it took a week for the bike-hippies at Boko Bikes to put it together, so I finally picked it up on Sunday. I was wildly hung over on Sunday, so I didn't dare take it out. And then it rained anyways.
It rained yesterday.
I went to the gym today, swam a frikkin' mile without stopping, planning on hittin' the street after most cars were off the road to take my newest form of transportation on it's virgin voyage. I got home, changed into my biking gear, whipped out my bike, and got in the elevator.
I get to the bottom and a pretty girl was waiting to go up. She smiles, and tells me that its raining. I didn't believe her--what does she know? I carted my bike to the front door of my apartment.
God I hate rain. Send it to North Dakota.
Isn't it supposed to go "April Showers bring May flowers?" Someone forgot to send "Mother Minnesota Nature" the memo. But so far, it's been "April sunshine brings snow(yes snow) and persistant rain in May perfectly timed to piss off Andrew."
I bought this sooped-up-racing-bike for the Triathlon I'm competing in this July. I actually purchased it last week, but it took a week for the bike-hippies at Boko Bikes to put it together, so I finally picked it up on Sunday. I was wildly hung over on Sunday, so I didn't dare take it out. And then it rained anyways.
It rained yesterday.
I went to the gym today, swam a frikkin' mile without stopping, planning on hittin' the street after most cars were off the road to take my newest form of transportation on it's virgin voyage. I got home, changed into my biking gear, whipped out my bike, and got in the elevator.
I get to the bottom and a pretty girl was waiting to go up. She smiles, and tells me that its raining. I didn't believe her--what does she know? I carted my bike to the front door of my apartment.
God I hate rain. Send it to North Dakota.
Sunday, May 1, 2005
Mayday Gloat-a-thon/Cheapo Purchase of a Lifetime
This morning, I woke up late for my sunday-morning-routine- breakfast-at-The Egg&I -with-Amy, so instead, I went to Cheapo to pick up the new Garbage disk(which was a killer show, btw) and just as I was about to check out at the register, I saw, in the USED cd rack nearest to the counter, in plain view, Mike Doughty's new cd, Haughty Melodic. A disk that I have been aching to get for months!
On any normal day, this would not be incredibly alarming , but today it is May 1st, and this cd is not going to be released until May 3rd, 2005. I picked up a full length promo album used before it was actually released!!!!!!
What makes this more even astounding to me, is that I know cheapo employees. They usually cherry-pick all the best incoming cd's, so you would begin to think that this wouldve quickly ended up in the mits of a music savvy employee. Nope. It's in my mits..ur...cd player.
And it is so good.
I'll add a photo for evidence.
On any normal day, this would not be incredibly alarming , but today it is May 1st, and this cd is not going to be released until May 3rd, 2005. I picked up a full length promo album used before it was actually released!!!!!!
What makes this more even astounding to me, is that I know cheapo employees. They usually cherry-pick all the best incoming cd's, so you would begin to think that this wouldve quickly ended up in the mits of a music savvy employee. Nope. It's in my mits..ur...cd player.
And it is so good.
I'll add a photo for evidence.
Friday, April 15, 2005
My Poor Car
Today I shake my fist at the sky. Not because I'm angry at God or something. I'm pissed at the bird that has been pooping on my car. Twice this week.
I say a bird instead of birds, because there cannot be many birds in minnesota that can drop bombs like those that hit my car.
At first, I though someone hit my car with a can of paint. Nope. Bird poop.
I don't wash my car very often. It's red, so it's pretty difficult to see dirt on it. But you can probably see this from space, so I washed it.
The next day, more poop. But thiiiis time, the bird with the herculean butt decided to poop at the top of my door, so it would made a white streak down the side of my car.
I can't imagine what kind of bird that would do this, unless it was actually a harrier jet that landed on my Pontiac. And what could this thing have eaten? It would have had to have flown a looong ways from White Castle. Unless. It walked. Perhaps I should be shaking my fist down, too.
I hope you weren't eating.
I say a bird instead of birds, because there cannot be many birds in minnesota that can drop bombs like those that hit my car.
At first, I though someone hit my car with a can of paint. Nope. Bird poop.
I don't wash my car very often. It's red, so it's pretty difficult to see dirt on it. But you can probably see this from space, so I washed it.
The next day, more poop. But thiiiis time, the bird with the herculean butt decided to poop at the top of my door, so it would made a white streak down the side of my car.
I can't imagine what kind of bird that would do this, unless it was actually a harrier jet that landed on my Pontiac. And what could this thing have eaten? It would have had to have flown a looong ways from White Castle. Unless. It walked. Perhaps I should be shaking my fist down, too.
I hope you weren't eating.
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