Many times, I find myself on the run between work and gigs. Traffic around Boston can be insane, so inevitably I have to choke down some fast food. Not for price, but for speed.

If you do the obvious thing, it will cost you about $7 for one of those so-valued "value" meals. Surely, we can do better. If you're going to suffer the insult of eating crappy food, why overpay for it? You can get a dinner for about $2. Here's how:

First, I usually have access to soda at work or at home. Before I leave, I usually just grab a soda and bring it along. You might pay $1 or so for a soda at Burger King, but soda is a high-profit item for them. You can get soda in a store for less than $3 a 12-pack in convenient can form. Or skip it altogether- though admittedly this is hard to do at McDonalds, as their burgers seem to lodge in your throat and require a drink.

Most fast food joints have a value menu. Know it and love it! Burger King and Wendy's have the better ones, and you can get a small burger loaded with toppings for 99 cents each. Pick two items, three if you're really hungry.

Skip the cheese. Why does cheese cost 20-50 cents a slice? Because most people will say "sure" if you ask if they want cheese because it seems small, not realizing that you are paying a lot for that.

Skip the fries, too. Another entree is more filling for the same price.

Keep an eye on the menu, and never order without reading it. This menu changes from day to day, hoping to catch the unwary. Things move in and out of the value menu all the time. That same Whopper Jr. might now be $1.59 this week, based on some biz guy's profit maximization plan.

There you go. Dinner or lunch for $2 plus tax, and you get to clean up all those pennies sitting in your center console.

You may think now that you upgraded to a nice LCD you won't get any burn-in like on your CRT.

I noticed the other day, after working a few hours on a score, than I had ghost images, dark spots. all over my Samsung 191T. I like a very dark and boring background (blue or purple).

At work, I have a Viewsonic VX2000 (an incredible monitor!) and a NEC MultiSync 1830, both of which are seemingly impervious to this.

It seems the LCD pixels get "tired" even faster than phosphors do, though the damage seems not to be permanent. However, it's quite annoying since I tend to have the monitor on for the entire day. If I'm working on a large score for a long time I get very bad ghosting.

I did have a screen saver, and the monitor powers off after a few minutes of inactivity. Still no good.

Unlike CRTs, LCD pixels are resting when displaying a totally white image. However, most screen savers are on a black background.

If you want to really give your monitor a rest, set a screensaver to have a totally white screen. On Windows, the "blank screen" saver will not work, so use the "Marquee" saver.

Finally, powering down at night by turning it off seems to help. Normally I would leave it on and let it go into power-save mode, but it appears it's not the same.

A couple years ago, if you put my name into Google you'd get my (admittedly lame) vanity page. Maybe about a year ago, this stopped happening - instead, you'd get my profile on SourceForge. That was annoying, of course, I want people to get my own page when they look for me.

What happened?

Turns out I used to have a link to tringali.org on my Slashdot comments. I took that down one day, because I thought it would be better to split my handle from my name. Not that anyone can't find out my real name from my handle or vice-versa, but just to make it less obvious.

Turns out that's what killed it. I put the link back and, bang, I'm back at the top. Behold the power of Slashdot, and wield your homepage link with care.

So much for my, ah, secret identity.

Like everyone else, I'm awash in spam. All the names are fake of course, though we seemed to have lately changed over from really bad ones like "Asymmetric Q. Palindrome" to more normal looking names. All these names seem to be totally random, with no two messages coming from the same one.

Except two: Stefan Zdanski and Karen Valdez. Over and over, these two names are reused in the sender column, subject, body. Years pass. Ice ages come and go. But Stefan and Karen are still there, clogging my inbox.

I got sick of it long ago and put a filter on those names. But every once in a blue moon I check the spam folder and... well, hello Karen! Nice to see you again! It's like I'm being stalked.

This raises some questions:

Does everyone get mail from these two? Or has somehow a spammer decided that I have my own two private imaginary friends? If it's just me, are the world's spammers so organized that they have a special list of two fake names to use for my email address? For what purpose? Perhaps these are real people, joe-jobbed by spammers? Or maybe the patron saints of spam? Anagrams of something? Someone help me!

I'm trying to spruce it up my house so I can sell it, and one the big things is to clean the windows. Not just spray the insides with Windex, but disassemble the entire thing and clean everything. This job will take the entire weekend, since it takes roughly a half-hour per window to do -- and that's with two people.

The first this is how amazingly dirty a window can get, yet you don't notice, because you can still see outside. Or maybe you're like me, you always keep the shades drawn. Once you actually clean it, it's like looking through a mirror - the outside suddently seems shiny and, heavens, in three dimensions.

The second thing is I can't get the "My Cousin Vinny" courtroom scene out of my head. You know where Vinny is questioning some country bumkin who witnessed the getaway, and has pictures of his disgusting trailer in hand: "Are you telling you that you saw the defendants through this bush and-- how many?-- one, two, three trees, through this rusty, crud-filled screen, and this filthy window?"

Yeah, it's sort of like that. Well, no rust on the screens.

The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that Gilmore Girls is actually female porn dressed up as a legit prime-time show. Let's analyze, shall we?

Lorelai: the strappy, sassy, single-mom. Abandoned by her prick ex-boyfriend since her tender teen years. Lives in a million-dollar house straight out of Better Homes and Garden, instead of the apartment complex by the railroad tracks. Female porn fantasy: 1) daughter is best friend 2) it's possible to afford that house on a wage-slave's salary, 3) you'll look that hot when you're old, popped out a kid, and suffered all that faux hardship.

Richard (a.k.a. "Man One"): Filthy rich parents of Lorelai, who live in a $5 million mansion in the good part of town. No matter what happens, if anything gets real bad, we can be assure that Lorelai will not become a crack-addled prostitute, because Dad is always there.

Emily: Socialite mother, who, being filthy rich, has nothing better to do than pry into her kin's life, decorate, and order dinner. She's so mean she changes maids like underwear. Fantasy: has the gut 'n gumption to stand up to nasty ol' Mom whenever they disagree.

Luke (a.k.a., Man 2): The successful townie business owner. Not as filthy rich as dear old Dad, but clearly has plenty of cash to drop around since he can buy real estate at the drop of a hat. So, he's just merely rich. But: he's a heathen who doesn't shave and wears a baseball cap. Fantasy: will turn him from rich, indepedent loser into fathe^H^H^H^H rich, whipped, but suave husband that she can actually take out to dinner in front of other people.

Rory's Dad (a.k.a., Man 3): Jerk who skipped out on Lorelai and Rory years ago. Grandfather died, and, instead of inheriting a bunch of old 33rpms, inherited a fortune of unknown origin. Now paying for Rory's ridiculously expensive ivy-league school so Lorelai is out from under control of Evil Grandma. Fantasy: deadbeat dad finally pays his due! Predictable story arc: dad will be worse than Grandma.

Logan (a.k.a., Man 4): Billionaire heir to the Huntzberger fortune. Considers themselves above the Gilmores because they are only merely filthy rich, instead of obscenely rich. Current boyfriend of Rory, who has passed through "nice guy" and "bad boy" phases and now is in the "money" (final) phase. Fantasy: duh!

Hm, I'm trying to find the common thread between all these men, but it eludes me. ???

Rory: dedicated, genius student who never spends a single minute in class, and has about as much genuine personality as the kid who played Anakin in Star Wars 1. Yet still attracts the richest man on earth second only to Bill Gates for... uh, I'm still trying to figure that out? Fantasy: best friends with mother, underappreciated genius.

I love snowy days, especially when working from home.

My house is on the edge of a hill, and a T intersection with a stop sign. Folks driving uphill need to stop. On days like today, I can sit here and watch people get stuck on the hill.

The development across the street is more well-to-do than my own, big giant McMansions and ugly Lexus SUVs all over the place.

These folks are retards.

Without fail, every day like today, I'll watch someone get stuck trying to climb the hill, only to fail, and sadly turn around to find some alternate route.

The sad thing is these idiots are driving SUVs with 4-wheel drive, just turned off.

More than once, I would be outside shoveling the driveway, and watch someone get stuck. I then shout out "turn on four wheel drive!". After a dazed look from the driver, a bolt of understanding strikes them, they manage to press the right button, and drive away.

I just want to post a sign "Have an SUV? Try four-wheel drive!" at the intersection.

As I sit here, I hear strange sounds coming from the living room, where my two toddlers are playing with a Leapfrog toy.

For those of you who are not parents, know that any toy that makes sounds will normally be used like a sampler in rap song: the kids will jam on the buttons as fast as they can. This turns any sort of comprehensible 10-second song into a jumbled cacophony of noise. (I wish the toy designers would put in a delay to prevent this.)

This particular toy has "a letter sounds" mode, in which you press a letter, and the sound is made. Pressing the A appendage (it's a caterpillar, you see.) produces "ahhh", B yields "buh", etc.

Now imagine what this is like, when they start banging on them bongos like a chimpanzee. Just noise, right?

No, it's more like weird sampled porn put into a rap song: "mmm! oooh! sss--ahh! h-h-h- oooooo! oh. oh. oh oh ohohoh-aaaah!". (Which letters produce what sounds is an exercise for the reader.)

That, and they seem to have the natural affinity of pressing the letters F and K in rapid sequence.

A year or so ago, I got my garage door opener replaced because it was having problems, and it's used as the main entry to our house.

While the guy was installing it, I made it a point of asking him the condition of the garage door and the springs The springs are under high tension, and can snap, possibly causing serious damage. I asked if they could put safety wires inside.

He said they were fine. Well, guess what happened yesterday?

One of the springs let go. Fortunately, nobody was in the garage, but it did whip around and break a pane of glass.

Why can't people say "I don't know" or "I don't feel like fixing it"? That would be a bit preferable than possibly putting a hole in my kid's head.

I had a pretty good gig last night, playing the backup band for Don Rickles.

Two things I bet you didn't know about Don:

One, he is the nicest guy. Everything he does on stage is an act. Offstage, he is about as warm and genuinely nice as they come. Most stars will grudgingly, if at all, accept doing this - they tend to stick in their dressing rooms and leave ASAP. Instead, Don hung out backstage while we were packing all our stuff up. He went out of his way to compliment and chat with us, sit down and take pictures, etc.

Second, is that this man can sing! Not croak or scream or yell, but a nice, warm baritone. I wasn't expecting that. As such, the show was not a few insults, but a rapid-fire mix of songs, dance, audience interaction, monologues, sure, some insults, small skits, and stand-up.

I even got my own personal insult from him. This was a doubling show, so I had my bari sax, tenor, flute, and clarinet all out. I can actually carry this all at once: the enormous bari straps on my back, the tenor in one hand, a gig bag with the flute and clarinet on my back too, my tux and change of clothes in the other. It's probably 75 lbs of stuff to schlep around.

I was on my way out, to load up the car. Don looks at me and says: "whattya doing, going on a moose hunt"? Maybe you don't find that funny here online, but it's all about his timing, inflection, and facial expression.

Don, here's to you. Old school and a true pro.

Why do I keep having this dream over and over?

Normally, I never remember dreams, so the fact that I remember it being a repeat means it must be repeating even more. It's like this: I'm back in undergrad college. No, not back in time, but I'm my current age, and for some strange reason I'm still there. In the dream I'm aware I've had a job and kids, though, the kids are not present. It turns for whatever reason I have one more class to fill before I can graduate, and it's something I really don't care about, like Renaissaince literature or 17th-century eastern-European history.

Naturally, it's only a few weeks before the semester is over, and I just find out that I'm very far behind in the class. As in no possible chance to even make up for it, I'm done, it's one more semester to redo this course.

Now, if this were to really happen -- it would be like, who cares? I already have my master's plus the two bachelors, and a steady job making good coin. It's not like I'd get fired for one stupid class, when there's work to be done and I'm in the thick of it. But in the dream it always seems like the biggest disaster in the world. I suppose it's my mind really worring about not finishing whatever work project I happen to be working on right now.

It's not fair. The Lea Thompson dream never seems to repeat.

Thank you for your patience. A representative will be there momentarily. Due to unusually high call volume, hold times may be longer than usually. Please continue to hold for the next available representative.

I have to rant about this, because some idiot programs these and sets them up. And, they seem designed to be as annoying as possible.

Many years ago, when all this started going down the tubes, I would simply press 0 as soon as I heard a computer babble. Then it became Thank you for0!... Welcome to0!... Please listen to our men0!... For English, pr0!... You have reach0!... Please wai0! silence (or muzak), finally.

The lack of a new prompt meant you're getting somewhere.

Then, that stopped working. So I purchased a speakerphone so I could get on with my life and do something while waiting hours on hold. But it seems like they are actively thwarting this!

In the good old days, you'd get some muzak, and could hear something cool like "We're Not Gonna Take It" rendered by a string orchestra. Not that the muzak was good, but because it was far less annoying.

There are two reasons why.

First, and foremost, the voices make it much harder to put this stupid phone call in the background, and let me try do something useful with the hour of time I'm going waste. If it was just a constant stream of muzak, you could mentally tune it out. One a real live human picked up, your brain would automatically pick out the pattern change.

Now, with the false platitudes, you actually have to listen to the content of the voices to determine whether it's live or not. It's no longer sufficient to pattern-match music vs. voice; no, now the task is a much more difficult recorded voice vs. human voice.

Second reason is I don't like being lied to. Everything said is total bullshit. If my call was really important to you, I wouldn't be on hold. If you really were experiencing unusually high call volume, then it wouldn't be like this every single time I call. The word momentarily does not mean "in thirty minutes".

It's not enough to lie to me once, no, you have to repeat the lie over and over. What purpose does this serve? I suppose somewhere, someone who's never been on hold before, thinks it calms me down. Or that by repeating it enough, I'll eventually think it's true. Or by repeating it enough, they will think it's true.

This is not the effect it has on me.

Instead, each repeated lie is a like nail being driven into my skull at unpredictable intervals. BANG. bang.... BANG! bangBANG!

Sometimes you get a panoply of voices. One is not enough: the bland no-accent all-purpose white guy voice actor; the overly-happy sounding lady with just a little too much of your third-grade teacher in her voice actor; the relucant receptionist with the thick New England accent and gruff smoke-cracked voice.

It's oh-so-entertaining when they get into a grudge match and start cutting each other off, like Boston drivers too impatient to wait their turn to make a left across traffic. Or, even better, when the voices start overlapping each other, like uninsured Boston drivers when presented a traffic circle.

Get rid of the voices, already!

Finally, please use more than a 30-second loop of music. The only thing worse than being on hold for an hour, is being on hold subject to thirty seconds of the same Kenny G sax lick repeated over and over. I don't like Kenny G, but even if I did, I wouldn't like that much of it. Would it be too much to ask for the entire song before looping? Maybe the entire CD?