All times are Central Daylight Time1
4:30 PM -- Jump off of the top of my brontosaurus crane and slide down his tail into my car
4:31 PM -- Jump up and look around, hoping no one saw me fall down the stairs while pretending to be Fred Flintstone
4:32 PM -- Let someone go ahead of me
4:33 PM -- Someone who saw me let someone go ahead of me takes advantage of my kindness2 and goes ahead of me without my permission
4:34 PM -- Vow to never be nice to anyone ever again
4:35 PM -- Let someone go ahead of me
4:36 PM -- Make it out of the parking lot
4:38 PM -- Sit at a traffic light
4:39 PM -- Still sitting at the same goddamn traffic light, why can't they ever design an intersection that allows cars to get where they're going sometime before Thursday, and another thing, when did the traffic...
4:39 PM -- Light changes green. Mentally refer to the other drivers still sitting at the intersection as "suckers"
4:45 PM -- Reach the interstate.
4:50 PM -- Apply brakes.
4:53 PM -- Hey, it's new billboard day!
4:54 PM -- Engage in mental treatise about the state of modern advertising, and wonder why it all sucks
4:55 PM -- Apply brakes
4:56 PM -- Satellite radio doesn't work while stopped under a bridge. Sing the rest of Avril Lavigne's "Girlfriend" anyway.
5:00 PM -- Wonder why no one has thought to sell drinks in traffic, suspect it's probably because "the man" put a stop to it
5:01 PM -- Wonder what "the man" has got against thirst-quenching, anyway
5:05 PM -- Apply brakes
5:10 PM -- Wonder why there are so many unattractive people on the interstate
5:15 PM -- Briefly panic when I realize my keys aren't in my pocket
5:16 PM -- Slap myself for my stupidity
5:18 PM -- Apply brakes
5:20 PM -- Swear that I'm buying a hovercar as soon as they come out
5:30 PM -- Arrive home to my loving family3
1 Except, of course, when they're not
2 Weakness
3 Which makes it all worth it
I think that if I ever met god (or is that God with a capital G?), he would look like Tom Jones. He'd have a great voice and be a snazzy dresser. He'd also be a hallucination, induced by a lack of oxygen in the brain because I'm choking on a poorly chewed piece of beef jerky.
So I'm at the end of what has been a mostly bad business trip. My work sent me to try to fix a piece of equipment in another office, about an hour and a half away by plane, just far enough to change time zones1. While it's not technically the first time I've traveled for business (I slacked off at a convention in Orlando in March) it is the first time that I've traveled alone for business. When leaving, the park and fly place took forever to get me to the airport and I was not allowed to get on the flight. I had to switch to another flight. When I arrived, I got an email on my blackberry that the air conditioner was down in the remote office and most everyone had gone home. Also, because of the A/C issue, the piece of equipment I was sent to fix might not even be operable. After a madcap and zany race to find the office2, I find it a deserted sauna. Someone was waiting for me, but they literally left within 20 minutes after I arrived. I stripped down to my sweaty undershirt3 and got to work. A few hours later, I had in my hands... a still quite broken piece of equipment4. So now I'm sitting at the busiest airport in the world desperately thinking of a way to not have to go back and replace this equipment5.
1 Everyone knows that the Eastern Time Zone is the worst time zone, as all the good tv shows come on too late
2 Everything's a big joke to you, isn't it, Mapquest?
3 Ladies, please, no woo-hooing
4 Yeah, it was anti-climatic to me, too.
5 Is anyone hiring?
Someone famous who is now dead, possibly former President Howard H. Taft, once said that "the unexamined life is not worth living." I'm here to call malarky. Hold on, wait.... Well, malarky's not answering. Anyway, examining your life in great detail, such as one might do if they were filling out a very detailed background check form, is enough to make you depressed. Apparently, I have lived in so many different places in the last 7 years that the normal form that is provided is not long enough. Nor is the extension form. Two extension forms, plus the normal form, will just about cover it, however. And there's simply no room to write about that summer I slept in the area under the stairs (think Harry Potter, but with less magic and intrigue. Actually, no, nevermind, don't think Harry Potter, as it really isn't applicable).
If you're a person who works as a confirmer of background check forms, I think I have a new respect for you. If you're the person who actually ends up being the confirmer of my background form (it'll be the one written in crayons and smelling vaguely of Skittles), give me a call. I'll buy you a beer and regale you with stories of the time I lived in the kitchen pantry of former New York Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia
Ode to an Iphone:
Also, apropos nothing, I start my new job today. So, to the two people who read this blog, specifically my wife and mom, wish me luck!
Oh, IPhone! I want you
Not to have sex with, per se
But to have and hold
Finally, I have to confess that when people give me directions anywhere, I will pretend that I'm paying attention and then just Mapquest it later. It's nothing personal against your direction-giving skillz -- but try as you might, you cannot conjure satellite images overlaid with my route out of your ass. Or maybe you can, in which case a trip to the doctor is in order. Or not. That could be the beginnings of an awesome superpower.
Oh, Yellowtail wine! Your Australian sassiness has done me in.
So, granted, I am not normally the wine type. I'm more the vodka-in-the-oatmeal kind of guy. But I picked up a bottle the other day. My wife took me to a fancy place the other night for dinner where there was free wine. Free as in, "you paid way too much for this dinner so we'll throw in some wine so you stop caring." I had previously picked up a bottle of Yellowtail Merlot because of its cheapness. My wife and I just finished it off. I should rephrase. I drank 90% of the bottle and she had the fumes.
Happy Father's Day.
Lawmakers need to realize that we elected them (or simply failed to vote for their competitor) to get things done. Important things. The economy? Please. Terrorism? Come on now.
There is something going on so insidious, so widespread and yet under the radar, that you will not find a single CNN or Fox News story on it. Yet it affects tens of people. Simply put, there are people all over this great country getting made fun of for liking crappy songs.
My name is Doug, and I kinda like that "Girlfriend" song by Avril Lavigne. There, I said it. I'm loud, not exactly proud, but there you have it. And yet, were I to start a job interview with that, I would most likely NOT get the job! That's discrimination, clear and simple.
HR Resolution 567:
"Be it hereby resolved that it's okay if one should want to sing along in the car to Avril Lavigne or even that "Everytime we touch" song by Cascada. One shall not be called a 'nerd', 'teenage girl' (unless one is actually a teenage girl, both chronologically and biologically), or given a purple nurple. I'm looking at you, perceptions of presumed male behavior enforced by societal dictates. Need I remind you of your attendance at the September 23, 1991, New Kids on the Block: Hangin' Tough Tour? I know you still have that t-shirt in your closet. How do we know? It's called the CIA, suckah.
Also, it is hereby resolved that Democrats rule and Republicans drool. Eat it, Boehner."
Do something about this, Reps, or else we'll be singing, "Hey, hey, you, you, I don't like your Representative. No way, No way, I think you need a new one."1
1: More than likely, we will not be singing that. It's copyrighted or something, and besides, we'll look like total geeks.
While in the lab1, pondering the chemical structure of Mexican food2, it occurred to me that there are 20 proteinogenic amino acids while there are 26 letters in the alphabet. If you needed to send a message, you could assign a letter to each amino acid, minus vowels3. Build the appropriate DNA string to code for these amino acids in the appropriate order, put it in a capsule and embed it just under the skin of a spy. Once the spy reaches the recipient, the genetic material is removed and sequenced. The message is read.
Granted, it would much easier to encode an email message in some kind of asymmetric key encryption which requires thousands of computers and hundreds of hours to break. I'm sure Al Qaeda's not that sophisticated anyway - I hear that they suck at Halo4.
1: The bathroom
2: Expelling said Mexican food
3: Seriously, what have vowels ever done for you?
4: Oooh, burn!
So I finally did get a new job. It was a long struggle that I hardly participated in. I had various job boards send me daily emails of new jobs. I applied to some occasionally. It made me feel better - I was being proactive. You are legally allowed to complain so long as you are doing something about it. I think that's from Psalms (pronounced "puh-soms"). But then a place actually called! They wanted an interview! This was terrible. I was going to have to actually do something. Obviously, they fell for my suave, sophisticated act. I'm sure it also didn't hurt that I was willing to work for less than an immigrant robot. I start on the 18th.
Where I work now, it's as though an entirely different person goes to work in my place. The person that sits in that office is a mute and anxious badger. But not a badger in the way that badgers are actually very dangerous and not at all to be messed with. More of a badger in the way of a small furry mammal. A small, furry mammal who longs to spend less time telling 80-year-old women how to push an appropriately labeled power button and more time swooping in at the last minute to save an entire IT infrastructure from the forces of that red guy from Tron.
I feel like it's the end of summer and a new school year will start soon. I've got a brand new Trapper Keeper. This is a chance for me to go to work, rather than sending in my furry lackey. Granted, my furry lackey makes a hell of a margarita. My wife warned me not to expect too much. So, much like prom night, I will lower my expectations. But I will try, at least a little bit.
I believe that I'm legally required as a blogger to post this:
On a not entirely unrelated note, Newsweek conducted a poll. There's a lot in there, I'll quote:
14. Do you believe in God?
91% | Yes |
6% | No |
15. People who don't believe in God are called atheists. Do you personally know any atheists, or not?
49% | Yes |
48% | No |
Every four years, almost like clockwork unless the Supreme Court gets involved, we in the US of A elect our president, the person who is, as leader of the most powerful nation on Earth, arguably the most powerful person on Earth. Essentially, it all boils down to a Republican vs a Democrat. Last night, the Republican hopefuls held their first televised debate. I didn't watch it, as I have grass growing in the yard and it is just fascinating, but I've read a bit about it this morning. I've mentally glossed over everything except for this one fact:
[...] on the issue of Evolution, the following three candidates raised their hands to indicate they did not believe in it: Sen. Sam Brownback, Gov. Mike Huckabee, Rep. Tom Tancredo.
So I had a job interview today. I don't want my current employer finding out, but then again, nobody reads this so I think I'll be okay. I could reveal national secrets for all it matters. Actually, are you ready? Dick Cheney is a robot. Sorry, you're right, I did say 'secrets'.
Well, it was only a first interview, which doesn't really count. All that happens at the first interview is they check to make sure you can actually tie your shoes.
"Are your shoes tied? No, wait, you just used bread ties. Nice try; maybe you'll do well in management."
Why do employers even bother with interviews anymore? It's all just a pack of lies. I lie to them about how awesome I am, they lie to me about their workplace. "Come work here! Our interns are actually just pinatas made out of candy!" What a bunch of crap. I only saw one intern pinata, and it was the really cheap candy.
"What would you say your biggest weakness is?"
"I work entirely too hard."
It's better that than they know my real weakness - I am a fool for the taste of puppies.
There's something very intimidating about having a blank area to record your thoughts, as I am doing now. Young people and idiots do not seem to have this problem. I cite the history of the internet. Up until a year I will now make up, say 2003, 87% of the internet consisted almost entirely of random insults ("u are teh suck" and the like) and "meteallica rulez!!!11!". Things have only slightly improved. Young people and idiots still abound, but now there are more places to buy Viagra. 4-less, even.
Ah, yes, the point. I thought I might get around to it eventually.
I realized that I didn't maintain this blog because it is very difficult to be consistently entertaining. And that's why anyone does this whole blog thing. You want to get good at it (by good, I mean get paid handsomely for doing very little actual work) and have millions of total strangers be enthralled by your every word. The method varies - some rely on humor, some on expressing some facet of the human element (although I initially despised that phrase, it is quite useful to the intellectually lazy such as myself). Take my wife's blog - although she is my wife, and I have to say nice things or shower alone, I do admire her ability to just say, "Yes, hello, I am human, I have foibles." I also admire her use of the word "foible".
Which all leads me to ask what I am contributing to the conversation. The answer is essentially very little. Still, is contribution actually necessary? I have learned in my few years here that saying nothing is a way to garner others admiration of ones intellect. I am, in fact, a mildly mentally handicapped chimp, but I manage to hold down a job and drive a car. I can also operate chopsticks with my feet, which does not make one as popular at China Garden as you might think. But nobody remembers the quiet ones and who wants to die unremembered? They call it a memorial for a reason. Actually, I'm okay with that. I don't mind if, at my funeral, the animatronic robot of Aaron Burr who is presiding over the service decides to end things early to hit the buffet. The lines at those things can be insane.
