I am so... tired... I guess the word would be.
I finally managed to catch up on the work I missed while I was goofing off in New York and Philadelphia. It wasn't easy and required three 18 hour days, but it's done.
I also finally managed to get the Artificial Duck Co. store up and running. It definitely wasn't easy and required lots of screaming (plus lots of time I didn't have), but it's done.
So now everybody needs to go buy Blogography playing cards.
Because these babies are priced to move! Depending on how many decks you order, you can get them for as little as $2.50 each! So buy playing cards for everybody you know... they make great gifts!
I wish that I could do something constructive with my exhaustion... like sleep. Isn't that what normal people do?
Insomnia sucks ass.
Wah. I'm too tired to blog.
The good news is that the design work is done, and all that's left to do is add the new items to the Artificial Duck Co. Store database. I'll work on that in the morning so I can re-open the shop tomorrow afternoon.
The bad news is that I've got a massive pile of work to finish afterwards before flying out on Wednesday morning.
And I can't find the power adapter for my Nintendo DS.
And I have no clean socks.
And my car's gas tank is on empty.
And I need new shoes.
And I'm out of chocolate pudding.
I hope tomorrow is a better day.
As I left for work this morning, the adorable old couple that lives next door were screaming at each other. Again. This time over how to dispose of eggshells properly. I can't help but feel that one of these days I'm going to see CSI over there picking up body parts, because these bitches will fight over anything.
I mean, eggshells? Really?
And now, before I forget, here is the latest meme creeping through the blogosphere (thanks Hilly and Jenny!)... a personal slogan generator!
| Your Slogan Should Be |
 |
Yeah, baby! Like that's not embarrassing.
Every morning I have my choice of four routes to work. Which route I take depends on a number of factors which are balanced in my head until the least offensive route is determined. For example, if there's a train rolling through town, I'll take the Goodwin Bridge to the highway because its the only route that has an overpass.
Of all the ways I can get to work, the one that bothers me the most is the Pioneer Avenue route. Not only because it's a continuous school zone that enforces a 20mph speed limit, but because there's a sight along the way which bugs the crap out of me. Take a look at this...
Yes, it's a yard light. And there's nothing wrong with a yard light... plenty of people have them... the problem is this...
WTF? Why would you put a single yard light directly next to a street light? What purpose does it serve? It's not even located by a walkway going to the house! So why? What's it doing there? And if you simply MUST double-light that section of your yard, why would you make a mini version of the street light next to it? Why? Why? Why? Is it supposed to be some kind of optical illusion or something?
Every time I drive past that stupid light, I start freaking out.
And this morning I have to drive this route while I'm already freaking out because one of my neighbors is probably laying dead in my driveway with eggshells scattered over their corpse.
The stress of living in a small town is really starting to wear on me. I need to move to the relative sanity you find in a big city.
This morning I was working in bed, trying to get the hang of my new 3-D modeling software, when the electrical power went out. This didn't matter much to me, because I was working on a laptop with a full battery.
But the power never came back on.
I needed to take a shower and get to work, but nothing was happening. Eventually I decided to just bite the bullet and take a shower in the darkness of my windowless bathroom. I mean hey, I pretty much know where all my body parts are, so how difficult could it be? In fact, it might end up being big fun!
Uhhh... yeah.
Showering in the dark is not nearly as entertaining as you would think.
Not only did I lose one of my contact lenses, but I think I ended up washing my hair with facial scrub, and I'm pretty sure there's still shampoo in places where shampoo should not be.
But that wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was that I accidentally went to work with a fauxhawk...
LEFT: My normal mess. RIGHT: accidental fauxhawk in the dark.
When I finally noticed it, I was really embarrassed.
But then I started thinking that this is a look I can totally pull off.
Now I just need to dye it pink...
Has anybody ever had a good experience at the DMV... ever? I only ask because I dread going to the Department of Motor Vehicles more than I dread a kick in the balls. Usually it's because the people working there are such assholes (a job requirement?), but the guy that helped me today was surprisingly nice and helpful. No, the reason my visit to the DMV sucked ass was because it took an hour... AN HOUR... to get my license renewed.
When I got there, I took a number (#69, heh heh!) and noticed that they were calling #62. I also noticed that they don't accept credit cards.
Shit.
Who carries cash anymore? So I ran... RAN... down the street so I could get some money out of the cash machine (which was kind of embarrassing because it was a drive-through ATM and I was walking). Then I ran... RAN... back to the DMV praying that my 10-minute detour didn't make me miss my number being called.
Which was pretty laughable, because when I got back they were on #64.
Shit.
And then I noticed that there were three different number series being called all at the same time... #64... #408... #409... #263... #410... #264... #65... and so on. It took 48 minutes before I even got to the counter. FORTY-EIGHT MINUTES!!! What the hell? THIS AIN'T NO RIDE AT DISNEYLAND M#THAF#@%ER!! If I'm having to pay a ridiculous FIFTY DOLLARS to get my license renewed, you'd better not make me wait on your shit. Try opening more than two service windows at a time, morons.
Is my number ticket making you horny, baby?
My trauma at the DMV put me in a bad mood for the rest of the day. After work was done, all I wanted to do was get home and climb into a bottle of vodka.
So there I am driving home when I turn the corner onto my street and BLAM! There's a line of three cars stopped ahead of me. Trying to figure out what's going on, I eventually see the second car (a lady in a minivan) turn into the oncoming lane and go around the first car. After that, the redneck dumbass in the pickup ahead of me honks his horn... waits a second... then punches the gas pedal so he can scream around the first car with his arms flailing.
And that's when I see what's going on.
A young kid from the first car is having engine trouble and is trying to push his car off to the side of the road. Instead of offering to help, dumbasses are honking at him and blowing past.
WTF?
I drive around the poor guy and park in a driveway, then run back to help him push his pile of shit off the road.
He's a little upset, and thanks me profusely as we manage to get his automobile taken care of. I ask him if he needs to borrow my phone to call somebody, but he has his own phone. I ask him if he's okay because he looks a little shook up (with good reason) and he says he's fine and thanks me again. So I say goodbye and continue home. It added maybe five minutes to my trip.
All night now I've been really bothered that people are such assholes that they wouldn't offer to help out this kid. How many people blew past before I got there? It's not like he was a gang-banger, drug addict, or in a dangerous neighborhood... he was a clean-cut kid in jeans and a T-shirt on a residential street! I just don't know. Was it because he looked Hispanic? I sure as hell hope not, because that type of racist crap makes me more pissed-off than a trip to the DMV.
Every once in a while I get a glimpse of where the human race is headed and want to scream.
Free at last.
This morning at 9:47am, after a week of agony and discomfort, my kidney stone finally decided to exit the building. And by "building" I mean "me." I had a feeling things were coming to an end yesterday because things started feeling different in my internals, but it wasn't until the pain subsided and was replaced with burning discomfort that I knew for certain. My guess is that appearing on The Jester Show last night scared the stone out of me, but it was more likely due to the massive quantities of water I drank afterwards.
The hospital scan revealed that the stone was only 4mm, but it might as well have been 4-inches for all the trauma it caused me. Surprisingly, as I stood there gazing at the instrument of my destruction in the toilet, I marveled at how innocent it looked. Like a little pebble that might get stuck in your shoe or something. And by "shoe" I mean "penis."
Though I'm sure if you looked at it under a microscope, it would be a different story. I've taken to calling my kidney stone "Mr. Sharpie" because it's the only explanation for how unbelievably fucking painful it's been...
Please note that Mr. Sharpie is no relation to Sharpie Brand Markers, ©Sanford, A Newell Rubbermaid Company
I really don't want to be sued over this shit.
Oh well. It's all over now. After having gone through this crap twice, I've decided that I'm drinking fifty glasses of water each day to flush this stuff out before it has a chance to accumulate into SPIKEY BALLS OF EXTREME PAIN!!
In other news, the movie trailer for Battle In Seattle has been released over at MovieSet.
It looks like complete and total shit.
I don't know why they'd make a movie over a frickin' protest, but here you have it. While the event was very real, I have no idea if the drama they've added to the film is based on real stories or not. From the over-clocked intensity of the scenes in the trailer, I'm guessing it's mostly speculation and fiction, but who knows?
In any event, I have no plans for seeing it. I was in Seattle working on November 30th, 1999... and blissfully unaware of everything that was going on. I was a dozen blocks away and cut off from news sources when things started up, and had no idea how intense things were getting until I went back downtown to my hotel later in the day. Fortunately, my hotel was on the edge of the riots, but I could still look out my window and catch a glimpse of the crazy stuff happening just a couple blocks away. Part of me wanted to go check it out, but after watching TV news I decided to stay in my room (which was largely tear-gas free!) and eat a bag of potato chips and a Coke for dinner.
But my true memories of the WTO protest riots were formed the next two days while walking through the streets of downtown Seattle. The spray-painted buildings and smashed windows provided a vivid picture of just how fucked-up some people can get. I'm all for protest, but using violence to promote your cause doesn't do anything but make you look like a douchebag. I'd like to believe that the vast majority of the people who showed up were there for peaceful protest (even if most of them probably didn't even understand what they were protesting), but the fact that nothing was done to stop the violence has me blaming the protestors as much as I blame the Seattle Police for being so grossly unprepared.
Ugh.
Now that I'm back to normal, I suppose I should get back to reality.
For once I'm actually happy about that.
Thanks to everybody who has been leaving comments and sending me e-cards while I've been sick. It's nice to be so beloved by the blogosphere.
Well, maybe not "beloved," but at least "well-liked."
Anyway... for everybody who tuned into The Jester Show expecting to hear me there last Wednesday, I'm sorry you only got ten minutes of Dave-time. I had to be rushed to the hospital so I could scream and cry in a room full of complete strangers. Which, when you think about it, is a lot like appearing on The Jester Show... except Jester isn't there and nobody is recording it.
Well, now that I have a big bag full of pain-killing drugs to keep me somewhat sane, Jester has kindly agreed to have me on again tonight. If you don't mind all kinds of not-appropriate-for-children talk, I invite you to join me at The Jester Show tonight at 7:00pm Pacific, 10:00pm Eastern on BlogTalk Radio...
When you combine my 20% gay fierceness with Jester's 100% gay fierceness, that's 120% gay fierceness all in one radio show, which just might exceed the BlogTalk Radio standards for overall gay fierceness...
For more about my appearance on The Jester Show, you can read my Blogography entry from last week.
And now, if you'll excuse me, there's a bottle of pills calling my name.
Errr...
But while I am still in a pain-induced cranky mood, is it just me... or is this the stupidest fucking BlogHer Conference ad ever...
"What happens at BlogHer stays at Blogher?"
Oh really?
Bull-fucking-shit.
What happens at BlogHer will be written about in no less than 1000 blogs ("OH MY GAWD... DOOCE IS HERE!!!"). Every tiny possible BlogHer detail will be posted on Twitter ("OH MY GAWD... I JUST SAW DOOCE!!!"). Flickr will be busting at the seams with BlogHer photos ("OH MY GAWD... HERE'S A PHOTO OF DOOCE WALKING INTO THE BATHROOM!!!). There will be BlogHer podcasts ("OH MY GAWD... IF YOU LISTEN CAREFULLY, YOU CAN HEAR DOOCE DROPPING A DUECE!!!"). YouTube will be overrun with BlogHer video ("OH MY GAWD... HERE WE ARE CHASING DOOCE IN THE PARKING LOT!!!"). For three days in July, I can assure you that the shit happening at BlogHer is not going to be staying at BlogHer, it's going to be posted to the internet in every conceivable way.
Which is kind of the point, isn't it?
But I guess if BlogHer wants to trot out that tired old "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas" rhetoric (which would have been somewhat excusable if the conference actually took place in Vegas instead of San Francisco), then more power to them. Perhaps enticing ladies to attend by making them think they're going to have some dirty little weekend away from the husband/kids/whatever is how they sell tickets. I just find it sad that a network built to empower women on the internet has to resort to such an obvious sexist cliche as "girls weekend away."
Even sadder is that I won't be attending BlogHer so that I can hook-up with all these ladies who arrive expecting a dirty little weekend away from their husband and kids.
Unless they're showing up expecting to hook up with each other, in which case I really regret that I won't be attending BlogHer.
Or that I don't own a video camera and work for "Girls Gone Wild."
Hanging in there.
Barely.
It's surprising how after a while the agonizing pain is not that big a deal... it's the nausea. That constant feeling that you're going to spew your cookies all over the place, even though you haven't eaten any cookies (or anything else for that matter)...
And yet... I seem to be adjusting to the medication hour by hour. I'm hoping that by tonight I'll be able to get back to Real Life. Which is a good thing, because I've got a flight to Salt Lake City I need to catch in the morning.
Wheeee!
Nothing quite like a night in the emergency room to put all your other problems into perspective.
Yesterday was a happy day. I had chocolate pudding for breakfast, work went good, I got my car's oil changed, and I was set to appear as a Very Special Guest on The Jester Show.
But the next thing you know I am writhing on the floor in agony as I shove every pill I can find down my throat in a feeble effort to get the pain to stop.
Two years ago I was rushed to the ER because I thought I was dying. Turns out I only wish I was dying, because it was a kidney stone. At the time, the ER doctor gave me the lovely news that I had a second stone that could drop in 10 minutes or 10 years. It's like having a bomb inside you with no way of knowing how much time is on the clock...
And yesterday was my lucky day! The bomb timer finally struck zero. This meant a lot of screaming until my trip to the ER and a magical shot of morphine made my life sane again...
I was tagged with a meme by James asking about my most embarrassing moment, and I'd have to say screaming your head off and crying in a room of strangers at the hospital is probably it. But the pain is overwhelming and there's really nothing you can do about it.
How thankful am I that this didn't happen on the flight back from Norway?
So now I live this quiet life of desperation... half-way between pain and a drugged-out haze... until the stone decides to pass. Good times, everybody. Good times.
My apologies to Jester for missing his show, and I'll plan on being there next Wednesday, April 9th, at 7:00.
And now for something really important...
After having already beat the shit out of cancer twice, Lisa over at Clusterfook has been diagnosed for a third time.
Though I've known her only briefly, Lisa has nevertheless done an incredible kindness for me, so when I heard that Miss Ann was on a mission to raise enough money to send Lisa and her daughters to Walt Disney World, I had to be involved. Beating the shit out of cancer for a third time is going to take everything Lisa's got, and I think it's great that her daughters can enjoy a happy vacation with mom before she has to start kicking ass.
There's already a huge list of prizes you can win with your donation, but I'll be adding a big box of treats from the Artificial Duck Store... T-shirts, buttons, and more... including a rare opportunity to own a custom DaveToon Print. That's right, if you win my prize, I'll create a one-of-a-kind custom DaveToon suitable for framing, just for you!
So what are you waiting for? Head on over to Miss Ann's blog and donate generously today by clicking the graphic below...
And thanks from the bottom of my heart for helping out an incredibly generous person who really deserves it.
The rush to get everything done before leaving on a trip is always a source of great stress and anxiety. Right now I'm skating on the edge of sanity just trying to keep track of everything. At any moment something could come along and ruin my shit, but I try not to think about it.
And I have no idea what I'm going to pack in my suitcase.
So you can imagine how thrilled I was when a crippling migraine decided to strike after lunch...
Consider my shit officially ruined.
I'm fully expecting that I'll wake up tomorrow with a scorching case of flaming diarrhea farts.
How is it that I am this lucky?
Today at lunch I had to run home to grab a portable hard drive I had forgotten and noticed that a bird had crapped on the hood of my car. The violation of my automobile didn't bother me too much because my car is filthy and, well, birds have to poop. What did bother me is that the bird dropped his load off-center. That's just sloppy crapping, and if a bird is going to shit on my car, I'd prefer that they take the time to at least make it look like they meant it...
But the biggest offense was yet to come...
While at home it became necessary to open a new package of flushable wipes. I've been using Kleenex Cottonelle Wipes for ages, but recently switched to Charmin Freshmates because they advertised a "DiamondWeave" construction. I didn't know what that meant, but it sure sounded great. I always put wipes in the care packages I send to the troops, and "Diamond Weave" sounds worthy of wiping the assorted body parts of even our toughest servicemen and servicewomen. Besides, as I've written before, I'm a big fan of Charmin toilet paper, and what's good enough to send to our troops is certainly good enough for me...
But then I opened the package.
What the f#@%?!? THIS is "DiamondWeave" construction???
LAME!
All they did was stamp little holes in a diamond-shaped pattern on the wipe! That ain't no weave mutha f#@%er!! How in the hell does this not-so-woven "Diamond Weave" make any difference in the product's wiping ability? I'm no scientist, but I'd think this would actually make a single-ply product weaker in a vigorous wiping session than a non-punctured wipe.
That will teach me to purchase something based on unsubstantiated, nonsensical marketing jargon!
I wish I could be embarrassed at being such a consumer whore.
HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!!
Not wanting to invite any sexual-harassment-style ass-pinching, I was raiding my closet this morning for something green to put on. This is not a color I usually wear, so the pickings were pretty slim. Fortunately, I remembered that I had 250 "A Little Geeky" shirts laying around, so everything worked out okay.
Until I got to the mini market.
"HA! HA! THAT'S NOT GREEN!" an acquaintance I barely remember shrieks as she gives me a titty-twister in front of the beverage cooler. "Ow! Hey! This is green!" I cry while trying to rub some feeling back into my mangled nipple. "Well, that's not St. Patrick's Day green... it's more like an olive green" she replies still cackling with laughter. "Well, shit... I guess I didn't realize they changed the rules. Used to be that green was green" I whimper.
Ha ha ha very funny, bitch.
I was this close to punching her in the face, but then I remembered I don't do violence and had to settle for mentally bitch-slapping her instead.
What a way to start my day.
I'd run out and have entirely too much green beer tonight, but the consequences of such behavior could be catastrophic...
Nobody likes green beer puke. Nobody.
This morning I overheard two kids debating over something when one of them said "I'm going to punch you in the vagina!"
It was one of those moments where I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. If the kid understood that boys don't have vaginas and was being ironic, it was pretty funny. On the other hand, if he was just repeating something he heard and didn't know that boys are vagina-free, it was pretty sad. I was almost hoping that the debate escalated into a conflict so I could find out exactly where he thought a guy's vagina is.
And speaking of completely misunderstanding vaginas, that stupid bitch "doctor" Laura Schlessinger has now gone on record as saying that, in a relationship, women are nothing more than whores whose only purpose is to service their man...
"When the wife does not focus in on the needs and the feelings, sexually, personally, to make him feel like a man, to make him feel like a success, to make him feel like her hero, he's very susceptible to the charm of some other woman making him feel what he needs."
How cool is that! It's nice to know that if I get married and decide to stick my penis in another woman, I can just blame my wife! If the bitch had focused completely and totally on ME and MY needs, there wouldn't have been a problem in the first place! Yeah! It's HER fault!
Silly womens!
Uhhhhh... yeah.
I'm not saying that it's never a woman's fault that her man might be cheating on her... but WTF?!? In many ways, I actually find "doctor" Laura's statement to be more offensive towards men than women. We're all egomaniacal assholes who require constant stroking (heh heh) or else we're going to cheat? That's weak. After all the crazy shit this bitch has said, why is she still on the air? Does anybody find her credible or even remotely relevant anymore?
I'll just add "doctor" Laura to my ever-growing list of people who need to be bitch-slapped. Hard.
And, to those who asked... no, this wasn't an accident...
Believe it or not, it IS possible to support the troops, yet be opposed to war and embrace peace.
Before I forget, a big thank you to Mr. Fabulous for letting me guest-host his talk show! If you missed it, you can still have a listen by heading over to the Pointless Drivel LIVE Archives. Please note that portions of the show are NSFW, and may not be suitable for children. Okay, I lie, it's definitely not suitable for children. Or anybody else for that matter. Listen at your own risk.
This morning I overheard a conversation where a woman was going on about how great things were in "the good ol' days." You know... the days when everybody would get together and sing songs and take sleigh rides for fun.
At the time I heard it, I was thinking that such lame activities sounded like sheer torture.
But then I changed my mind.
Because when I got home and was reading through my Marvel Comics Archives while eating dinner, I saw some ads that actually make "the good ol' days" look pretty cool. And it all starts with monkeys...
Apparently, you could ship monkeys through the mail in the good ol' days. This worried me at first, but since they "guarantee live delivery" I guess this means they ship you out a fresh one if you get a dead monkey in your mail box. Sweet! But sometimes a monkey alone isn't enough to impress the ladies. Fortunately, you're covered...
Genius! But what do you do if a monkey and paste-on facial hair is not enough to be a hit with women? The answer is at hand...
With mad hypnotism skills you can make the girls fall madly in love with you. That sounds like a lot less work than the alternative...
Of course, once you've got yourself a woman, you've got to keep her entertained, right?
And don't worry ladies, if comic reading, monkey-packing, facial-hair-wearing, accordion-playing, hypnotizing guys start hitting on you, there's an ad for you as well...
But my favorite ads are those placed by Grit Magazine...
Of course, in this day-and-age, advertisements soliciting dandy young boys with promises of swell money would get you in big, big trouble... but it was a different time back then. A simpler, more innocent time.
A better time.
I mean, come on... dude! Monkeys by mail!
It sure beats stealing them from the local zoo...
I tend not to dwell upon the past, but every once in a while I look back in my life and become despondent over the things I've failed to achieve. Goals never met. Plans never realized. Potential never fulfilled.
I suppose I'm not unique in this regard. How many people can say their life has gone exactly as planned?
Though I'm probably harder on myself than most because my goals are set rather high. My ultimate goal, naturally, is to become ruler of the earth and all I survey. But I realize this is not something likely to happen overnight... certain "minor goals" will have to act as stepping stones towards world domination. Unfortunately, these goals (as of yet) have also gone unsatisfied.
Like becoming a Knight of the British Empire.
You laugh, but they gave that shit to Bill Gates for infesting the United Kingdom with his Microsoft Windows crap, so why not recognize me for infesting The Most Excellent Order of the British Empire with my Blogography crap? And, as if that weren't enough, I look damn fine wearing jewel-encrusted silver ornaments. I would totally be rocking that "Star of the Knight" medal, I tell you what...
And I have no doubt that Her Majesty The Queen and I could become bestest friends...
But, alas, no knighthood for me.
I was reminded of this failure as I was watching the wacky Barbara Walters host "The Royal Family" special on television last night. It was actually pretty good, but just makes me want to watch the original British documentary, Monarchy: The Royal Family at Work, upon which the Baba Wawa special was bastardized from.
In even further bad news, my Apple Time Capsule wireless backup drive arrived yesterday...
But not really.
The box was completely empty.
When I got it, I noticed it was near-weightless, but I thought it might be software of some kind. After opening the box and finding nothing, I located the label from Apple, looked up the order number, and saw it was supposed to be my Time Capsule. After a long, convoluted call to Apple, they issued an insurance claim with FedEx and placed a new order. Unfortunately, this has added ten days to my delivery time, but oh well.
Perhaps I'll feel better about things if I were to knight myself.
Sir Dave2 sure does has a nice ring to it.
Well, hey... my blog seems to be accepting entries again this morning. What a wonderful surprise. Rather than wait for things to break again, I decided to just go ahead and post my entry for both yesterday and today.
Though because it's only 3:30am there's not a lot to write about. Fortunately, a quick run through my blogroll resulted in the best inspiration for blogging there could possibly be.
In what has to be the most hotly anticipated news all year, Jenny has announced the venue for TequilaCon 2008. After the fun everybody had at Dave L.A., I applaud the choice made by the committee, and can't wait for May to arrive! Hotels are still being reviewed, so keep an eye out at Run Jen Run for the suggested lodgings announcement...
And speaking of both Jenny and TequilaCon... for those just dying to see me in my fedora, here's a shot Jenny took of me modeling my fabulous "w00t!" geek tattoo at the TequilaCon 2008 Planning Posse meet, gangsta style...
That's a box of Hello Kitty Chewing Candy in front of me there. It may be infused with gelatin nastiness, but it goes well with beer and isn't that all that really matters?
Hello Kitty really should start her own brewery. That's a totally missed opportunity.
Everybody jump! It's Leap Day today!
I plan on celebrating by wearing a fedora and drinking copious amounts of alcohol tonight.
And perhaps jumping on a couch or two...
Since I'm not married to Katie Holmes, the alcohol is essential to my couch-jumping technique...
Well today sucked.
It seems as though life just keeps getting faster and faster, there's always more and more to do, and you have less and less time to do it. Most days I don't care, but today it all wore me down to the point of wanting to give up.
It's days like this I want to trade in my life, buy a cow, and go live on a farm in the middle of nowhere...
But instead I'm flying off to Portland for the weekend.
I'm kind of happy about that.
And now, from the Not-So-Sweet Irony Department...
PCWorld has an article on Yahoo! News where Michael Barrett, chief information security officer of PayPal, is telling their customers that Apple's Safari web browser isn't safe for online shopping...
"Apple, unfortunately, is lagging behind what they need to do, to protect their customers," Barrett said in an interview. "Our recommendation at this point, to our customers, is use Internet Explorer 7 or 8 when it comes out, or Firefox 2 or Firefox 3, or indeed Opera."
Oh really? Well here's what I have to say to Michael Barrett, chief information security officer of PayPal...
Fuck you.
Seriously, fuck you.
Because here's the thing... PayPal doesn't give a shit about their customers.
I used to use PayPal to run my online store... I was a PayPal customer. But one day PayPal reversed a transaction, and took my money. I contacted the person who owned the credit card to find out if they made a fraud complaint against me or something, but they didn't know why the charge was reversed. They got their T-shirts and were totally happy. I made several calls to PayPal for an explanation but, for "security reasons," they wouldn't tell me, nor would they tell me the name of the bank who made the request (if, indeed there ever was one). According to their service contract, they don't have to tell you shit. And, since they aren't a real bank, you have no recourse if they steal from you.
So, basically, PayPal will take your money at any time with no explanation. And yet they have the balls to warn people about getting ripped-off when using stuff from another company? What a bunch of hypocritical jerks.
On my farm, I won't need crap like PayPal... I'll just trade fresh milk and eggs for what I want to buy.
Though I'd imagine the quality of hooker you can get for a dozen eggs and a glass of milk is probably pretty questionable.
This morning when I left for work, my crazy old neighbors were outside screaming at each other again. I'm long past the point of finding their fights amusing... now I just find them embarrassing and annoying. Their arguments never gets physical (they're just too old for that kind of nonsense) but they can sure dish out the verbal abuse like nobody's business.
Except they yell so loudly that it's actually everybody's business.
At first I heard them screaming about what sounded like a screen door problem of some kind, but the topic changed as I made my way across the parking lot...
OLD WOMAN: ... and I was not put on this earth to clean up after you!
OLD MAN: I don't know what you're talking about! I clean up after myself!
OLD WOMAN: NOT WHEN YOU DON'T FLUSH THE TOILET!!
OLD MAN: I FLUSH THE GAWD-DAMN TOILET!!
OLD WOMAN: WELL, THERE'S CRAP IN THE STOOL, AND IT AIN'T MINE!!
OLD MAN: I FLUSH THE TOILET!!
OLD WOMAN: IF YOU FLUSHED THE TOILET, I WOULDN'T BE LOOKING AT YOUR CRAP IN THE STOOL!! I DON'T WANT TO SEE THAT WHEN I GO TO THE BATHROOM!!
OLD MAN: THEN WHY DON'T YOU FLUSH THE GAWD-DAMN TOILET AND YOU WON'T HAVE TO LOOK AT IT!!
Awwwww! Old people can be so cute sometimes!
I'm dying to know how long they've been married. If it's anything less than 50 years, I'm going to be gravely disappointed.
And speaking of crap...
Yesterday I tore my home apart looking for my dongle. In the process, I seem to have now lost my camera's battery charger. I guess this means I'll be tearing everything apart AGAIN so I can try to find it in the morning.
That aught to put me in a good mood for the day.
With every fiber of my being, I LOATHE software that requires a hardware "key" (known as a "dongle") to operate.
Because I am forever losing the damn thing.
Today I had a critical project that I couldn't complete because I lost the dongle I needed for the program to work. This meant I had to rip apart my office, my car, my apartment, and everything I own in an attempt to find it. For three hours I was tearing my hair out in a feeble attempt to find a tiny piece of plastic that had no intention of revealing itself. Eventually I gave up, slightly more insane than when I started...
Once I got home from work, I finally managed to find the stupid thing in one of my suitcases. It was hidden in a back-pocket where I missed it the first time I looked. I was so happy that you'd have thought I'd found the freakin' Holy Grail or something...
So now I've got my dongle back and all is well in the world.
But not really.
My web hosting service is down, AGAIN, which means that I can't tell the world about my troubles.
Stupid internets.
Could be worse though. I could have been Hillary Clinton in tonight's Democratic debate. It's as if she suddenly decided that she wanted to confirm all the negative things people say about her. And then there was Obama... rising above it all to give us his calm, cool demeanor that was so presidential I could almost feel him as our nation's leader. If anybody watching it was on the fence as to who they were voting for, they're in Obama's camp now.
Argh. Time to go play with my dongle.
Has the internets been painfully slow for everybody tonight... or is it just me?
This morning I stopped by the mini mart on the way to work to pick up some chocolate milk so I could face the day. As I was pulling into the parking lot, I noticed somebody I don't like at the gas pump and immediately turned around and drove off. The last thing I need is to deal with this crap first thing on a Monday morning. Unfortunately fate had other plans, and I ran across that same person later in the day. Everybody is karma's bitch from time to time.
Fortunately I managed to escape unscathed, because things stayed relatively civil. They didn't badmouth my friends and I didn't have to bitch-slap their stupid ass back into last week.
And now it's time for Current Events!
But before I go, I feel compelled to share some old news that's new news to me... and may be of interest to you if you are a comic book fan.
For a couple of years now, I've been an avid collector of GIT Corp's wonderful CD/DVD-ROM archives of Marvel comic books. Each tome collects hundreds of comics in PDF format, giving collectors the ultimate affordable resource for reading books that are hard to find or too expensive to own. There's something magical about being able to read 44 years of The Fantastic Four while stuck on a long airplane ride. I've bought every volume GIT has released, and was anxiously awaiting the release of their forthcoming Thor and Daredevil DVD-ROMS.
Except that's never going to happen now because Marvel refused to renew their license with GIT.
I'm sure this is because Marvel feels they can make more money by selling access to their comics online, but I have some major problems with that...
GIT says since they no longer have a license that once the existing products are gone, they're gone. So if you have even a passing interest in Marvel Comics, this is probably your last chance to pick up these archives. I buy most of mine from Tales of Wonder, which sells them all at discount, but good bargains can also be found at Amazon.
And now, since work is over and blogging is done, I think I'll go to bed and re-read George Perez's awesome run on The Avengers from the 1970's.
Boy how I will miss GIT's comics archives. If only DC Comics would give them a license for their books...
A good chunk of my day was spent sorting through boxes of junk in an attempt to toss out crap I no longer need. The problem is that I just can't find stuff I want to get rid of. Old concert T-shirts I'll never wear again... old magazines I'll never read again... even old VHS tapes that I can't even play anymore.
But the biggest offense is antiquated electronics I'll never use.
I have stuff that I barely even remember owning. Like my Atari Lynx (the very first color portable gaming system), my Apple Newton, my Atari 2600, and loads of other stuff that should have been tossed out ages ago...
But I just can't bring myself to throw them away or sell them. Who knows... one day I might have this overwhelming urge to play "Mr. Do" on my ColecoVision. If I had tossed it out, then where would I be?
Hopefully I'll be able to let go of this crap eventually but, until then, I'll just have to continue to live with a closet that has no room for clothes in it.
One of the great things about Jägermeister is that it doesn't seem to give me much of a hangover. One of the bad things about dropping a shot-glass-full of it into Red Bull to create a Jäger Bomb is that Red Bull keeps you awake. And when you have too many Jäger Bombs (as I most certainly did) getting any kind of sleep is not easy. This is a good thing when you want to keep the party going... but not so good when you are trying to get some rest.
Which meant that I spent most of the day in a zombie-like state from total lack of sleep.
Which meant that playing Wii all morning was probably not a good idea.
This was confirmed when I threw my shoulder out while playing Wii Sports Tennis.
Stupid video game...
Fortunately I had some pain pills to fix that right up.
Which was nice, because I was invited to dinner by Spirit of St. Lewis. This allowed me to add another "blogger I've met" to my sidebar, because My 2 Cents was there as well. Later on we were lucky enough to run into fellow blogger Kristin Wood Knits (though we may have to strip her of her blogger cred since she hasn't written there since September!).
Big fun was had by all, so many thanks to Lewis, Blair, Chris, Bryan, and Kristin for letting me tag along!
Now it must be time to catch up on some of that sleep, because I am having a hard time keeping my eyes open here...
Today I had to drive into the neighboring "big city" of Wenatchee to run some errands. This immediately put me into a sour mood because the traffic in Wenatchee is notoriously bad. And, unlike a REAL big city, nobody seems to know how to drive in it. By the time I finally got back to work, my brain felt like it was melting from the stress. Until I opened my email.
I'm not really a big fan of VD, but it was nice to get a bunch of Valentine e-cards today. Something tells me I should return the favor, but I'm just too tired. Though I kind of like my Valentine Card to my readers from three years ago, so maybe that'll work...
Who doesn't totally love Hello Kitty?
In addition to being Valentine's Day, it's also Self Love Day... a holiday that Hilly-Sue came up with that's taken the blogosphere by storm (click here to read about it on her blog). I was going to participate, but Bad Monkey grossly misinterpreted the rules, so that kind of spoiled it for me...
And, on that note, it's time for me to go pack a suitcase...
Today as I was leaving work, a woman was standing outside with her daughter as a train passed by with aircraft fuselages strapped to the cars. "What is that?" the little girl asked wide-eyed. "Those are planes" the mother replied. "That's silly. Where are their wings?" the girl said, stomping her tiny foot on the sidewalk.
The first thing that went through my mind was how totally cool it would be if they did leave the wings on when they transported airplanes on trains. The massive amount of damage that would ensue as they cut a swath of death and destruction on their journey would be a crazy-awesome sight to behold.
But then I felt sad because, just like the girl observed, a plane with no wings that can't fly isn't really a plane at all.
Until I realized that the fuselages were on their way over to Seattle, where Boeing would get them all fixed up with wings, landing gear, tiny toilets, a cool paint job, and uncomfortable seats packed too closely together. Then I was happy again.
Well, happy for the planes... not the people who have to sit in those uncomfortable seats...
This weekend I am going to Seattle too.
Alas, it's not to get my wings. I've decided it might be nice to stay grounded for a little while.
For a brief period of time that felt like centuries but was actually less that two weeks, I "dated" whom I like to call the "Do You Know" girl. And when I say "dated" I actually mean "followed her around while going bankrupt buying her stuff in the hopes that she might one day sleep with me." It was a very one-sided relationship, but I didn't care and clung to the hope that she would do whatever it took to keep the gravy train rolling before I ran out of money. After that, the money wouldn't matter, because she would fall hopelessly in love with me and we'd be blissfully happy together for the rest of our lives.
I don't think that I'm spoiling anything by revealing that things did not go according to plan.
Not only did I not get to sleep with her but, with the exception of a couple breezy kisses, the only physical contact I ever had was when she grabbed my ass in the shoe department of Lamonts. At the time, I was convinced true love was imminent. In retrospect, I'm guessing she was just trying to take my wallet.
Anyway... while I was biding my time for a glorious event that would never occur, I had to endure her one fatal flaw... a constant barrage of "Do You Know" questions that were not really questions, but instead thinly-veiled condescending attacks...
It drove me frickin' insane but, as I said, my eye was on the bigger picture.
Ten years later, and I'm on the phone with technical support for almost an hour trying to solve a major problem with my faithful 5-year-old laser printer. Once we've gone through all the usual crap that I had already tried a dozen times before I called, the support guy is at the end of his rope and finally gives up...
"Do you know printers like this should be replaced every three years?"
To which I immediately reply...
"Well, okay, but the sex had better be incredible."
This caused a bit of confusion, so I decided to clear things up...
"Ha, ha... just kidding. Looks like I'm the one who's going to get fucked today."
Do I have to be such a total smart-ass all the time?
When a fellow employee sees you coming out of the bathroom with a camera and a ruler, how exactly do you explain it?
I only ask, because my initial declaration of "this is not what it looks like" seemed wholly inadequate given the situation. In fact, I think it pretty much confirmed in their mind that it was exactly what it looked like. Even worse, I don't think that I managed to convince myself it wasn't what it looked like.
The truth, of course, was far less exciting than anything the imagination could dream up. I was photographing some machine parts... needed a ruler in the shot to show scale... and sliced my thumb open with a piece of cardboard I was using to block sunlight. I just wanted to wash the dirt out of my cut so I wouldn't get an infection. Since the bathroom was on my way back to my office, I just took the ruler and camera with me. Simple.
Except now everybody around the office is probably thinking that I'm measuring my progress with some penis enlargement pills I bought on the internet...
And in other news of the day...
Guess who got YET ANOTHER JURY SUMMONS in the mail?
Here's a clue...
Yes, that's right! ME!
Last time I was on a trial, it was a colossal waste of time. Everybody on the jury knew the defendant had probably committed the crime, but there was no way we could find the guy guilty. How can you prosecute somebody for drunk driving when there was no breathalyzer test and the officer who pulled him over let him drive home after he was stopped? Oh... and the evidence in the case? The officer said the driver made an "oh shit face" as he rounded the corner and saw his police car sitting there. Yes, THAT'S what was worth wasting an entire day of my time. I was so pissed that this lame shit was ever brought to trial that I very nearly choked the prosecutor to death with my bare hands.
But what's even worse than serving on a trial is wasting two weeks calling in to see if they even need you for a trial.
As I said just two years ago, I don't even have time to take two weeks of vacation each year... yet I'm expected to block out this time for jury duty?
And yet there are people I know who haven't been summoned in over ten years.
Somehow, me and my giant penis are just that fucking lucky.
Many of the streets here are covered with one to four inches of compact ice. This makes starting and stopping quite a chore. As I was leaving the office to go home and get some dinner, a massive trailer-truck came barreling up with his window rolled down and slammed on the brakes to ask me a question... and proceeded to skid twenty-five feet right on past past me. Without missing a beat, he asked a guy down the street for some directions. I laughed about this all the way home, but don't really know why.
Despite the icy roads, today was truly a beautiful day. Blue skies and sunshine all around.
The day after tomorrow is supposed to be similarly gorgeous.
But what's the forecast for TOMORROW when I am due to fly out?
Yes, that's right snow. And not just a little snow, but a shitload of snow. I've heard "two feet" being bantered around in the forecast which, needless to say, would be extraordinarily bad. There would be no flying anywhere with two feet of snow being dumped on the airport.
Of course, given the accuracy of the weather forecast, I'm not starting to panic just yet.
Well, maybe a little bit.
Nah, not really. Whatever happens, happens.
Sigh. I have about five hours of work left tonight and I haven't even packed a suitcase. I'm beginning to think that I should just wear the same clothes for the entire week and not take a suitcase at all. So what if I end up a smelly mess? When traveling, that might actually be a benefit. Nothing says "LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE, DUMBASS!" better than a week's worth of stench.
In other news, I have self-diagnosed myself with Restless Leg Syndrome.
I can't get comfortable at night because my legs get all achey and tingly, and I can't stop wiggling around. I'm thinking this might be adding to my insomnia problem. So now I need to get me some Requip. Except reading the "Possible Side Effects" on their web site has given me pause...
"Some patients taking ropinirole have shown urges to behave in a way unusual for them. Examples of this are an unusual urge to gamble or increased sexual urges and/or behaviors. If you or your family notices that you are developing any unusual behaviors, talk to your doctor."
That's all I need... to become a sex-crazed gambling addict (among other things... hallucinations? seriously??).
Although I am curious to know what bizarre sexual urges and behaviors I might develop.
A scorching case of sex addiction with a bit of a chocolate pudding fetish on top?
One can only hope.
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