I wish I'd have said that to myself this morning. "Larry, just stay in bed, buddy. It's a fucked up world out there, and it's snowing shit. Just stay in bed."
Nothing catastrophic, just a bunch of surplus piss-ant things that chose today to show their greasy, puss-leaking faces. Among them?
The mystery cut at the very tip of my left index finger. Feels like a paper cut, but I usually remember those kinds of things pretty vividly. The point is, THAT'S MY TYPING FINGER DAMMIT, and so is extra annoying baceause the bandage on it is really fucking with my ten-word-a-minute typing velocity.
The new water dispensers at work here. They are built with the devil spawn "automatic sensor" that senses when the glass you want to fill is almost lined up with it's devil spawn spigot, and proceeds to dispense water down the OUTside of the glass. Once the glass is completely in place, the stream shuts off, pissing me off to no end. I'm sure somewhere in the marketing glossy that our management team was sucked in by are the words "efficient", and likely "saves water". I assure you, it does neither. Instead, it increases sales in paper towels from having to clean up the fucking mess... (insert Sam Kinison scream here) If you work in marketing, please take no offense when I say you suck big green donkey dicks, and I hate you.
I'm not even going to tell you about the adventure in parking my car today, save to say that I did fine; It was the idjit trying to reverse into the space next to me. Again, and again... and AGAIN. I couldn't open my door until she was done because I wasn't entirely sure that she wouldn't shear it off. (oops, guess I told you about it anyway).
Oh, and today is a twelve hour work day due to month-end. Hey, does that mean I can blame my demeanor on "That Time Of The Month"? ...nah, didn't think so.
:sigh: Just stay in bed Larry.
Candlebox, Cover Me
31 January 2007
27 January 2007
I can still count to ten.
How I Met Your Mother had an episode not too long ago that briefly made fun of opening some consumer packaging. Specifically, the plastic shells that surround electronics and other items. The farce was opening one of these shells containing a pocket knife; If only they had something to cut open the plastic ...
Yeah. Funny easily grows from truth. I was trying to open such an item yesterday. Not to get to a pocket knife though, oh no. I had a pocket knife already de-plastic'd to do the cutting into a new toy's shell. The shell appeared to be easier to open, having had the equivalent of tack welding in two spots to seal it up. Two tacks, and I had just the tool to cut through them. I even felt confident that I had the brains to do so, as well. Alas...
The first step, slide the blade between the two layers of the shell, beneath the weld, and pry out & away from me. The first one went well. Easily, even. Half way to my goal, I was looking forward to the bit of fun I'd have setting up the new gadget. That was my mistake. If you become distracted for even a moment, Karma will kick your ass. I was repeating step one: Slide the blade between the two layers and get ready to execute step two of prying out & away. Sadly the second weld was not nearly as strong as the first; I slid the blade right through to my waiting left index finger cum knife-sheath.
I guess I shouldn't have been so diligent in sharpening the knife a few days before, huh?
So the blade goes with no small force into the thumb-side of my index finger at the second knuckle (a little research says that would be the PIP joint, if you're really obsessed with knowing).
Being me, I immediately pull back on the knife and see the quarter-inch wound happily start dripping. Honestly I don't think I stopped the knife going in. No, I think that responsiblity fell to the bone in my finger. It was a very weird feeling (I can still feel a very deep pain in the finger now). So blood is flowing, Mario is smirking at me with that "I saw that one coming" look, and I go to the bathroom to throw my finger under cold water. After a bit of a rinse, I put pressure on it and go get some paper towel to do a better job than just my bare hand.
Have you ever tried getting a single paper towel off the roll while one hand firmly holds the other? Ain't easy, but I used my head. Literally. I held the roll still with my forehead while I clumsily removed a towel with my pinky & ring fingers. I'm sure it was quite a graceful maneuver. Really. So after the third or fourth try, the industrial-strength, tight-weave sheet of paper towel comes loose. I'm certain that my verbal encouragement helped, too. Lots of "*"s and "@"s and "%$^!!*#$"s.
I let go the finger to grab the paper towel, and by the time I look back to place the towel on my finger... things are messy. I think to myself that maybe I should go see what hospital is in-network for the stitches I'm gonna need, but the thought of trying to type in that search with my forehead nixes the idea. Eh, I just need to add more pressure. Yeah, that's it. So I wipe some blood away to see where the cut is so I'm pressing on the right spot, and hold it straight up for a while, as I peek under it every 10 seconds to see if it's stopped yet (hey, I'm a guy). Ten minutes later I cinched a band-aid on to sorta emulate a butterfly.
It's been under a bandage since then (no, not the same one). I can still flex it and have feeling, so no permanent damage. Yay for the home team.
Out of the Bleu, Tool Shed
Yeah. Funny easily grows from truth. I was trying to open such an item yesterday. Not to get to a pocket knife though, oh no. I had a pocket knife already de-plastic'd to do the cutting into a new toy's shell. The shell appeared to be easier to open, having had the equivalent of tack welding in two spots to seal it up. Two tacks, and I had just the tool to cut through them. I even felt confident that I had the brains to do so, as well. Alas...
The first step, slide the blade between the two layers of the shell, beneath the weld, and pry out & away from me. The first one went well. Easily, even. Half way to my goal, I was looking forward to the bit of fun I'd have setting up the new gadget. That was my mistake. If you become distracted for even a moment, Karma will kick your ass. I was repeating step one: Slide the blade between the two layers and get ready to execute step two of prying out & away. Sadly the second weld was not nearly as strong as the first; I slid the blade right through to my waiting left index finger cum knife-sheath.
I guess I shouldn't have been so diligent in sharpening the knife a few days before, huh?
So the blade goes with no small force into the thumb-side of my index finger at the second knuckle (a little research says that would be the PIP joint, if you're really obsessed with knowing).
Being me, I immediately pull back on the knife and see the quarter-inch wound happily start dripping. Honestly I don't think I stopped the knife going in. No, I think that responsiblity fell to the bone in my finger. It was a very weird feeling (I can still feel a very deep pain in the finger now). So blood is flowing, Mario is smirking at me with that "I saw that one coming" look, and I go to the bathroom to throw my finger under cold water. After a bit of a rinse, I put pressure on it and go get some paper towel to do a better job than just my bare hand.
Have you ever tried getting a single paper towel off the roll while one hand firmly holds the other? Ain't easy, but I used my head. Literally. I held the roll still with my forehead while I clumsily removed a towel with my pinky & ring fingers. I'm sure it was quite a graceful maneuver. Really. So after the third or fourth try, the industrial-strength, tight-weave sheet of paper towel comes loose. I'm certain that my verbal encouragement helped, too. Lots of "*"s and "@"s and "%$^!!*#$"s.
I let go the finger to grab the paper towel, and by the time I look back to place the towel on my finger... things are messy. I think to myself that maybe I should go see what hospital is in-network for the stitches I'm gonna need, but the thought of trying to type in that search with my forehead nixes the idea. Eh, I just need to add more pressure. Yeah, that's it. So I wipe some blood away to see where the cut is so I'm pressing on the right spot, and hold it straight up for a while, as I peek under it every 10 seconds to see if it's stopped yet (hey, I'm a guy). Ten minutes later I cinched a band-aid on to sorta emulate a butterfly.
It's been under a bandage since then (no, not the same one). I can still flex it and have feeling, so no permanent damage. Yay for the home team.
Out of the Bleu, Tool Shed
24 January 2007
Here, kittykittykitty
One thing I never have to do is call Mario the Wonder Kitty when he's getting the occasional serving of wet food. His favorite is Iams' Beef flavor, and they come in foil packets (yeah, it's relevant). Last night I pulled one off of the shelf. The mere sound of it in my hand was enough to bring the cat running to the kitchen, when a moment before he was in deep slumber in the far room.
Aside: He's got great hearing, right up until I'm telling him to get out from under my feet... Truly amazing.
So before I traverse the three feet from shelf to counter, Mario is standing right there with his front paws up against the drawers beneath the counter, eyes wide and meowing to the world that he's not eaten in weeks, pausing for a yawn since he just woke up. Yeah, it's a ritual.
Usually the foil tears away smoothly and easily, very much like those Heintz ketchup packets you get at your favorite fast-food joint. Sometimes it is more difficult, but still opens up with a quick tug. This time, the quick tug didn't do anything.
That's not entirely true. You know how the ketchup packets sometimes blow up if you're not too careful (or being extra mischevious, if you prefer)? Well... While the tug didn't completely open the packet, the extra pressure from that tug squeezed a quantity of the broth out at high velocity. Time slows down to a crawl as the beefy broth droplet soars toward the ceiling. I pull my best Neo-from-The-Matrix impersonation, twisting to move my face from the projectile's path.
SUCCESS!
Then gravity kicked in.
The droplet fell back to earth at an unfortunate time. That moment in time when Mario wasn't looking up at the counter, and so was unaware that The Beef Brothlette Of Death Or At Least Certain Splattering™ was headed right for him.
And splatter it did. Right on the top of his head, between the ears. You know how cats generally abhor "wet"? Mario is no exception to this. Were he a possum, he'd have lost a life right then and there.
At this point, Mario knows something tapped him on the head. Milliseconds later he is aware that it is not going away as he ducks and backs away. As feline anxiety builds, it continues to cling to him as he engages Mario Overdrive... on the linoleum floor of the kitchen. He is displeased that even the sudden acceleration upon grabbing carpet still does not relieve him from the grip of this wet thing on his head.
I don't know what happened immediately after this because my eyes were closed as I doubled over in laughter. Schadenfreude? I concede the possibility. ANYway, Mario is soon positioned under the end-table in the living room. He tries to scratch away the irritation with a back paw. One swipe is all he took. I cannot explain the look of disgust and horror on his face when he realized the stuff was now in the tuft of fur between the pads of his foot IN ADDITION to having just been smeared deeper into the fur on the top of his head.
It's not unlike what you'd do if you blindly reached into the breadbox and got a handful of mold. Quick, go look in a mirror right now. THAT'S the facial expression.
So Mario shoots his daggers of displeasure at me, and starts the arduous process of "bath time" licking his soiled paw. The surprised expressions just never end in this comedy, I tell ya. He wasn't used to paw-cleaning being so apparently tasty. Of course, adding insult to "injury", I had to wash the rest off of his head for him with a damp sponge. I wonder what's going to happen on the next wet food night? I'll keep ya posted.
Rush, The Big Money
Aside: He's got great hearing, right up until I'm telling him to get out from under my feet... Truly amazing.
So before I traverse the three feet from shelf to counter, Mario is standing right there with his front paws up against the drawers beneath the counter, eyes wide and meowing to the world that he's not eaten in weeks, pausing for a yawn since he just woke up. Yeah, it's a ritual.
Usually the foil tears away smoothly and easily, very much like those Heintz ketchup packets you get at your favorite fast-food joint. Sometimes it is more difficult, but still opens up with a quick tug. This time, the quick tug didn't do anything.
That's not entirely true. You know how the ketchup packets sometimes blow up if you're not too careful (or being extra mischevious, if you prefer)? Well... While the tug didn't completely open the packet, the extra pressure from that tug squeezed a quantity of the broth out at high velocity. Time slows down to a crawl as the beefy broth droplet soars toward the ceiling. I pull my best Neo-from-The-Matrix impersonation, twisting to move my face from the projectile's path.
SUCCESS!
Then gravity kicked in.
The droplet fell back to earth at an unfortunate time. That moment in time when Mario wasn't looking up at the counter, and so was unaware that The Beef Brothlette Of Death Or At Least Certain Splattering™ was headed right for him.
And splatter it did. Right on the top of his head, between the ears. You know how cats generally abhor "wet"? Mario is no exception to this. Were he a possum, he'd have lost a life right then and there.
At this point, Mario knows something tapped him on the head. Milliseconds later he is aware that it is not going away as he ducks and backs away. As feline anxiety builds, it continues to cling to him as he engages Mario Overdrive... on the linoleum floor of the kitchen. He is displeased that even the sudden acceleration upon grabbing carpet still does not relieve him from the grip of this wet thing on his head.
I don't know what happened immediately after this because my eyes were closed as I doubled over in laughter. Schadenfreude? I concede the possibility. ANYway, Mario is soon positioned under the end-table in the living room. He tries to scratch away the irritation with a back paw. One swipe is all he took. I cannot explain the look of disgust and horror on his face when he realized the stuff was now in the tuft of fur between the pads of his foot IN ADDITION to having just been smeared deeper into the fur on the top of his head.
It's not unlike what you'd do if you blindly reached into the breadbox and got a handful of mold. Quick, go look in a mirror right now. THAT'S the facial expression.
So Mario shoots his daggers of displeasure at me, and starts the arduous process of "bath time" licking his soiled paw. The surprised expressions just never end in this comedy, I tell ya. He wasn't used to paw-cleaning being so apparently tasty. Of course, adding insult to "injury", I had to wash the rest off of his head for him with a damp sponge. I wonder what's going to happen on the next wet food night? I'll keep ya posted.
Rush, The Big Money
17 January 2007
Check that bill.
I called my cell provider to have them knock off the pro-rated service charge that was billed before I even received the new phone. Nothing big, just over $8. I get on the phone & explain that since the phone did get here until the 3rd, I shouldn't be charged for service until that date.
He reversed the activation charge to make up for the error. To the tune of ~ $41 and change. Then he asks me, "Has everything been resolved to your satisfaction?" Uh, yeah dude. I'd say so.
Maybe eliminating the pro-rated charge is too much of a PITA, and in the interest of keeping his talk time down, he took an easier and virtually guaranteed customer pleasing way to resolve it. Whatever, I've pondered it too much already. A warm beverage awaits elsewhere...
Arak Pacha, Pachama - Schmeling Salas ("Who?" Here's a tune of theirs)
He reversed the activation charge to make up for the error. To the tune of ~ $41 and change. Then he asks me, "Has everything been resolved to your satisfaction?" Uh, yeah dude. I'd say so.
Maybe eliminating the pro-rated charge is too much of a PITA, and in the interest of keeping his talk time down, he took an easier and virtually guaranteed customer pleasing way to resolve it. Whatever, I've pondered it too much already. A warm beverage awaits elsewhere...
Arak Pacha, Pachama - Schmeling Salas ("Who?" Here's a tune of theirs)
09 January 2007
Cha-ching
I don't know if Nissan is doing well as a company, but I'm not sure how they couldn't be when they charge $160+ for a half-a-matchbox-sized knock sensor. Labor is only an hour, but I'm sure you know what your local mechanic charges by the hour. File that under "Definitely NOT peanuts" though not entirely unreasonable.
So that piece of trash sensor was changed out, and I was then told about the radiator.
Yeah, it's leaking. Now it used to be that repairing a radiator wasn't such a big deal (somewhere in the $60-80 range). Would you like to know what fucked that novel idea up though? The proverbial wrench thrown into the works of a simple radiator patch job is everybody's favorite substance that, according to chemical companies, makes life easier, safer, and more efficient... Until repairs are needed. Then it's all a disposable world.
Plastic.
While the core of the radiator is still the status quo aluminum, the side "tanks" as they're apparently termed, have been altered from the former brass / copper material to the much cheaper plastic. I could have it repaired, and have it done at the bargain-basement price hovering somewhere around 90% of the cost of a whole new radiator. Let us ponder the pros and cons of such an amazing deal, shall we?
I've got a better idea. Let's not.
At least that damned Check Engine light is off. Again, that is.
Vivaldi, Summer / Allegro Non Monto
So that piece of trash sensor was changed out, and I was then told about the radiator.
Yeah, it's leaking. Now it used to be that repairing a radiator wasn't such a big deal (somewhere in the $60-80 range). Would you like to know what fucked that novel idea up though? The proverbial wrench thrown into the works of a simple radiator patch job is everybody's favorite substance that, according to chemical companies, makes life easier, safer, and more efficient... Until repairs are needed. Then it's all a disposable world.
Plastic.
While the core of the radiator is still the status quo aluminum, the side "tanks" as they're apparently termed, have been altered from the former brass / copper material to the much cheaper plastic. I could have it repaired, and have it done at the bargain-basement price hovering somewhere around 90% of the cost of a whole new radiator. Let us ponder the pros and cons of such an amazing deal, shall we?
I've got a better idea. Let's not.
At least that damned Check Engine light is off. Again, that is.
Vivaldi, Summer / Allegro Non Monto
04 January 2007
I jinx myself, and cock-a-doodle-doo to you too
The Check Engine light is on again, dammit. Somehow I just knew it couldn't be that easy.
Among things I recommend avoiding if possible:
When playing around with a new toy, be sure you set the ringer on it for something that won't send the cat into fits when he wants to purr on your chest.
I got a phone call on it last night and hadn't realzed that the ringer I'd set it to was of ... wait for it ...
A crowing rooster.
Also of note was that the volume of the "ring" was not low, and was about 18 inches away from me. In other news, I have a collection of deep scratches on my chest now. OW! (I understand that the wimmins find scars attractive, so I guess I've got that going for me)
The Grateful Dead, Sugar Magnolia
Among things I recommend avoiding if possible:
When playing around with a new toy, be sure you set the ringer on it for something that won't send the cat into fits when he wants to purr on your chest.
I got a phone call on it last night and hadn't realzed that the ringer I'd set it to was of ... wait for it ...
A crowing rooster.
Also of note was that the volume of the "ring" was not low, and was about 18 inches away from me. In other news, I have a collection of deep scratches on my chest now. OW! (I understand that the wimmins find scars attractive, so I guess I've got that going for me)
The Grateful Dead, Sugar Magnolia
02 January 2007
--Enter meaningless title here--
So the New Year's Eve festivities were low key at the homestead here. By "low key", I mean, "in bed at 10pm". Yup, such is my level of excitement that I was examining the backs of my eyelids that early. The way I see it, I've done the 'up til midnight on December 31st' thing enough times, in various states of lucidity. I don't need to do any more.
I was, however, woken up at 11:45 by a nice lady in New Mexico who really wanted to wish me a happy new year. I think. Here's what I heard:
:ring:... "Herrlo?" That's me trying to talk, freshly returned from dreamland. Now you know what to listen for when you call me.
"HIIII!!!!" My eye's pop open from the decibel level of this broad... "I JUSHT WA-- ::urp:: WANTED TO SHAY HAPPY NEW 2007!!! I LOVE YOU!!" At this point, I am now fully awake. Yes, it was her burp that gained my full and undivided, if slightly grossed out, attention.
"Um... Is this Susan?" I know exactly one gal in New Mexico, and she is 1) gorgeous, but 2) very married, and 3) not one that normally drinks to excess.
"NO, IT'S ME!!" Well, that just clears everything right up...
"Okay, well hello you. Listen, you have a great first ride on the porcelain bus this new year, and in the morning you won't remember you've got the wrong number. Good night now, sweet cheeks."
Eh, she might actually have sweet cheeks, too. Guess I'll never know.
On the Excellent News front; Took the car in to get the Service Engine Soon light remedied. Or at least find out what I've gotta save up funds to have repaired. My mechanic took the GameBoy for Nissans to it, and the thing called the car a liar. No trouble code found. The little light wants attention, apparently.
I had the guy banish the light with his GameBoy, and there was much rejoicing. Especially since there was no charge. Bonus! He says if it does come back on, there could be a "recall" thing that says warranty will cover getting a new brain for it. I still think cars should be sold withOUT brains (Hey, it worked for the Model T!), but that's just me.
More good news, a new toy was just delivered by the good folks at UPS. I must now geek out for the next couple hours, if you'll excuse me...
Delerium, Siege of Atrocity
I was, however, woken up at 11:45 by a nice lady in New Mexico who really wanted to wish me a happy new year. I think. Here's what I heard:
:ring:... "Herrlo?" That's me trying to talk, freshly returned from dreamland. Now you know what to listen for when you call me.
"HIIII!!!!" My eye's pop open from the decibel level of this broad... "I JUSHT WA-- ::urp:: WANTED TO SHAY HAPPY NEW 2007!!! I LOVE YOU!!" At this point, I am now fully awake. Yes, it was her burp that gained my full and undivided, if slightly grossed out, attention.
"Um... Is this Susan?" I know exactly one gal in New Mexico, and she is 1) gorgeous, but 2) very married, and 3) not one that normally drinks to excess.
"NO, IT'S ME!!" Well, that just clears everything right up...
"Okay, well hello you. Listen, you have a great first ride on the porcelain bus this new year, and in the morning you won't remember you've got the wrong number. Good night now, sweet cheeks."
Eh, she might actually have sweet cheeks, too. Guess I'll never know.
On the Excellent News front; Took the car in to get the Service Engine Soon light remedied. Or at least find out what I've gotta save up funds to have repaired. My mechanic took the GameBoy for Nissans to it, and the thing called the car a liar. No trouble code found. The little light wants attention, apparently.
I had the guy banish the light with his GameBoy, and there was much rejoicing. Especially since there was no charge. Bonus! He says if it does come back on, there could be a "recall" thing that says warranty will cover getting a new brain for it. I still think cars should be sold withOUT brains (Hey, it worked for the Model T!), but that's just me.
More good news, a new toy was just delivered by the good folks at UPS. I must now geek out for the next couple hours, if you'll excuse me...
Delerium, Siege of Atrocity
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