Ya ever who wins out in the commercial wars? Well this time around, it actually is The Who. Or maybe just Pete (aka God). I've noticed that both Gateway 2000 and Dell have recently begun airing television commercials featuring background music by The Who. There's a small part of me that is offended (How could ya do it Pete?) But then again, I love knowing that Pete's getting huge royalty checks and buying Yachts or something. He's earned it. Wish he'd release some new stuff.

As always, its the physical things that cause the problems. Sunday morning I arose to discover my laptop off. This was a bit surprising- especially when I booted it and discovered many fsck problems. This afternoon it turned itself off while I was working. Surprising considering it was plugged in.

So I swap batteries with nates laptop (haha! The sucker is still on his June Term in India!) and things work. But its not for another hour that I realize that the reason is that I sat my recliner down and sliced through my power cable. I got scared and dropped it as sparks hot out of the exposed metal. Apparently it was shorting out through the support structure of our sofa. Kinda creapy.

Anyway its always the physical that gets me down. Grr. Good thing Nate doesn't get back for a few days...

This angers me: Holland has 2 theaters: The "Holland 7" and the "Star Holland". The Hollad 7 is older with extremely uncomfortable chairs. The service at the candy stand is slow. The video games are terrible. Most of the theaters have crappy sound systems. And its dirty. The Star is bigger, has larger screens, more comfortable seats, and while the arcade isn't much better, there is a wall of big screen TVs showing previews so you have something to do while you wait to get in to your theater. Plus they actally are modern enough to accept plastic.

Now the problem is that they divide the films. Half of the movies go to each theater and this is all apparently pre-arranged. While The Star did get Star Wars, the 7 got Austin Powers and is scheduled to get South Park. If there was an option, I would always select the better theater. I mean, its even closer.

So when good movies go to the Holland 7, I have to drive 45 miles just to see them in a good theater. I hate holland sometimes.

I had a goattee for like 9 months. Not a good goat mind you, more like a small dead rat glued sloppily to my chin. And at the end of last summer I returned to a brush cut (not sure if that was to save money on shampoo, hair cuts, or because I just was annoyed by having hair in my eyes). Anyway, I also tend to fly frequently (conferences, biz trips, yada yada) and noticed something shocking: I always got searched. Every time. Not in my home airport (GRR security is really mellow although they make ya take your computer out of its bag which is a real hassle). For 9 months, every time I came back from anywhere, I'd get searched. Usually I'd be traveling with a group, and I was the only one checked. Apparently I look like the unabomber. They hassle me asking me to turn my computer on, running wierd lights over my bags looking for bomb/drug residue or something. Once they made me remove things from most of the pockets in my laptop bag. Sometimes they make me turn my computer on (several times I've had a dead battary. Thats pretty embarassing)

Anyway, I recently shaved my goat, and for the first time in 9 months, I wasn't searched on my way home. So my options are:

1. Have a cheesy goattee, look like a dork, and get searched in airports.
2. Remain clean shaved, nick myself regularly while shaving, look like I'm 13, a dork, and be left alone.

The worst part is that at 23 I am carded every time I order a drink, but the goattee saved me from that. I may look like an axe murderer, but at least I look like a post pubescant axe murderer. What a world.

So I had a rotten morning. Dealing with legal crap is never fun, and this time I kinda snapped. So I stomped home and took a shower and decided to shave my head (its tuesday, I buzz my head down every tuesday). Upon completion of my weekly ritual, and trimming of my mediocre goattee, I decided to screw it and shaved it off.

So now I'm cold. Its been there for like 9 months. I didn't realize it was keeping me warm. Apparently the little bit of chin fluff served a purpose. Now my chin feels wet all the time. Wierd. Maybe next I'll try to grow mutton chops. Sure, I'll hit my midlife crisis before I look anything like elvis, but it would be fun.

I believe that you can tell a lot about a person by looking in their bathroom and seeing what they read on the crapper. So I've recently stolen all the literature from the upstairs bathroom at GH2. This is the hole shared by me, Hemos & Kurt the Pope. I file this evidence before you:

1. Victoria's Secret 1999 Swimsuit Edition (sent to one Jeffrey C Bates)
2. Sid Meier's Alpha Centauri Manual
3. Derek and the Dominos, Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs (guitar tabs)
4. Victoria's Secret Spring Fashion Issue (sent to one Rob W Malda)
5. Linux Magazine, the Spring issue. I have read about 3 paragraphs out of this thing, but its there.
6. The Perl Journal (Issue #10- Summer of 98)
7. Wired (March 99- the issue with hemos & I in it, and the only issue of Wired I own. I haven't read it)
8. The Perl Journal (Issue #11- Winter of 98) Everyone should subscribe to this thing.

Hi, my name is Rob and I'm a Chronic Nail Biter

"Hi Rob"

Ugh. Seriously I've been chewing my nails down to the flesh for as long as I can remember. Its not healthy, in fact its quite gross. And sometimes I bite just a little to far, and then I have a finger that hurts and it impedes my typing.

This is compounded by my obsessive guitar playing. For an hour or so each day I try to play my beloved Gibson SG. But if I chewed a nail short, that doesn't happen, and my only stress outlet is to yell at Hemos or Nate. That doesn't make anyone happy. Plus I'd really like to be able to pick with my finger nails. That would be so cool.

So I'm resolving to quit. For the last week I've done a good job. Except today when the server was flaking I got really stressed out and totally chewed the middle nail on my right hand down to the flesh. Ouch.

So Now I'm filing my nails. My Leatherman Wave has this handy little filer, so I sit and I file my nails down. I'm pretty sure this doesn't matter because whether I use my teeth or a file, I still don't have any nails, but somehow my brain tells me this will break me of this evil habit. We'll see.

I'm sitting in the floodlands. I can't see the road. Its a big lake. I'm getting concerned. I've started collecting 2 of every life form I can find in my house (2 mice, 2 of those strange glow-in-the-dark fungus's from the basement, 2 of whatever that stuff is behind the toilet, and I'm seeking a mate) and I'm going to start building an ark before its to late. I need some sort of battery powered satellite feed...

Some weeks suck. You get a lotta flame mail. You don't have enough time to write code you want, and the code you do write seems to be buggy. The weather sucks and you just feel "Blah" all the time. Then the IRS rams a huge iron rod up your rectum and wiggles it around while some while some bastard that "forgot" to send you your 1099 in time laughs.

But then you apt-get upgrade to catch up on the latest bits and pieces in potato... and you decide to play tetris... and then you discover that the down arrow behaves properly! Like, it doesn't just slide the piece down to the bottom, instead it drops at an accelerated rate until you let go of the key. Just like the original.

Then you piss your pants and think 'maybe it ain't so bad after all'. It really is the little things ain't it?

My taxes are fucked. My income was fairly screwy considering that I had a real job, some cash from that website thing I do, and now another "Real" job with BSI. Factor in student loans, and some consulting and I've got an IRS nightmare that I think even kurt fears. Its really annoying that my taxes are this screwed up, and I still didn't make much money. But the worst part is that I got screwed over by one company (in the losest sense of the term) who still hasn't sent me a my tax info- even though he was required by law to have it here months ago. He didn't even know he needed to do this. What kind of business is this? This bastard has thrown my life into financial limbo. Now I have to file for an extension on my taxes... sitting here in tax pergatory. I hate debt.

I wish I had no morals. I'm rarely the sort of person that would considere revenge- I get angry and stomp and yell, but for once I think I'd be justified to do more than throw a tantrum. To bad I'm a wuss. I just burn off steam writing here instead of posting it somewhere less appropriate and really hurting them. God damn morals.

Ok, this is my advice: If a crazy guy, panting, looking exhausted and stressed out runs up to you in the street and yells "What Year is It?!", then he is undoubtedly from the future here to save us from some terrible apocolypse. Give him what he wants. Tell him the year. Give him a few bucks. Especially if he is naked.

I got my oil changed today. Actually, I got my oil change, gas, and a car wash so it was a big automotive day. As usual, its been like 5 months since my last oil change (and only about 1500 miles).

After what seemed like hours of intense labor on my car by a cheerful young man, a surly boomer man, and a reasonably attractive woman (well, reasonable considered she is attired like a grease monkey. I've got no problem with grease monkeys- well lubed is all good by me, however blue overalls and sweat rarely are what I could consider "attractive"), the latter asks me point blank, "Why Don't you drive a Mazda?".

I'm shocked of course. I never thought about it before. I mean, why don't I drive a Mazda? My 1989 blue tempo with 110,403 miles on it is a good car, but why not a MAZDA. Then my brain reactivates itself and asks the woman a question I'm dying to know the answer to:

"Why would I drive a Mazda?"

She thinks I'm being a jerk. She falters for a second before coming back with "Well, thats your name, right?".

I think I'll be sticking with my tempo for awhile.

My space heater busted. Now I'm cold. I can barely feel my fingers when I type. I guess it serves me right for buying the high quality $20 space heater from meijers. Now I gotta go buy a new one. I wonder if I can classify it as a business expense. My room technically is my office. Then again, its mid march, and I'm pretty set on moving somewhere nicer this summer so maybe I should brave it for the week. Mmmmm... warmer climates don't require space heaters.

I'm boycotting orange juice. I'm sad about this, because I like orange juice. But I am going to stop drinking it until I stop seeing that annoying ad with the dorky bachelor slob who squashes the bug that drank the juice, but the bug escapes with the cry of PURE ENERGY.

I can't support that crap. The milk ads are clever- they almost make me want to drink milk. The OJ ads are driving me away from a beverage I like.

I'll miss screwdrivers. Maybe I'll try martinis for awhile.

I'm not very musically savy. Basically, if you look at my CDs, you will see 30+ Who and Townshend CDs. A dozen Beatles CDs. Assorted Floyd, my disney soundtracks, Yardbirds, Clapton, Derek & the Dominoes, and yes, even Elvis. But nothing even remotely recent. When the grammys happened, I got guilt pangs. So I bought a CD called the 'Grammy Rap Nominees' or something. Now I hate rap, but I felt like I needed to get in touch with a whole genre of music that I've been ignoring (I actually love DJ Shadow, but thats the closest I've got).

After listening to most of the album, I have to say that it isn't bad. Some of it is even gasp good. Busta, Wycleff Jean, and (the humanity) even the Beastie Boys. Sure, it ain't Tommy, but then again, what is?

I realized today that I hate Popular Science. Why? It's easy: When I was a child (last thursday) my father had a subscription to popular mechanics. I read every issue. He didn't subscribe to many magazines, and somehow each issue eventually found its final resting place in my bathroom. Where I would read them. Over and over again. They would stay there for a year or more. Car articles I didn't care about. Advanced technology that just looked boring. Cheesy cutaway drawings. They were always boring. Never interesting. I read the computer articles and would just laugh at how inept they were. And now I realize I hate Popular Science. Why? I think because they just have similiar names and for that reason alone, it just turns my stomach. I'll be much more careful what I leave in my bathroom if I have kids. Hopefully whatever it is, it won't warp them as much as Popular Mechanics did me.

Damn the post office. I have a 6 32 cent stamps left and they went and raised the rates. Effecitvely obsoleting my already purchased stamps. The way I see it, I now have 3 options:

1. Buy some 1 cent stamps. Seems like the obvious solution doesn't it? But this requires me to go to drive to the post office, wait in line, give the nice man a 6 cents. Total cost: 6 cents plus 45 minutes or so of my life in drive time and line time. I barely have time to take a piss. Over 6 cents! Can I just give my mailman a dime and call it even?
2. Use 2 stamps- total loss- 31 cents per envelope. I only have 6 stamps left, and the credit card bill should probably be paid. This would at least guarantee that it goes out. And I can pickup the new-and-improved 33 cent stamps like a good american next time I go to the grocery store. But I'm dutch dammit- my brain tells me this is sinful somehow. I don't understand it. It might be my upbringing, but I think its more likely something burned into my DNA like male pattern baldness or not being able to smell or the fact that I absolutely detest brussle sprouts.
3. Cut one stamp up into 5 pieces and use it one of the pieces on each of the remaining 5 envelopes. I think uncle sam should let me do this. I'm tempted to just try it. Total Cost: 32 cents if it fails, if it works, the total loss is 27 cents for all 5 envelopes.

I really must just not want to go to the post office. Why doesn't uncle sam just accept the 32 cent stamps for a few months? Its not like the post office is a profitable enterprise to begin with. Ugh. I should be able to pay my visa digitally.

I got a big honkin' UPS. 2 Actually. Jeff swapped them for banner ads with Linux General Store because our house has cursed electricity. Having blown out numerous motherboards and spent far to much time on hold with various tech support companies to get parts replaced, we decided to get UPSs. We had a couple small ones that Kurt or I had acquired at our last job, but these new suckers are huge. They're the size of a small microwave. They have more buttons and LEDs than I know what to do with (hit the link to read the rest of my babbling)

I broke my dongle.

God that sounds sick.

At least I've had better luck then nate. Nate broke Dongle A, then broke dongle B, and uses dongle C (which is a 10baseT/Coax that he "Borrowed" from an ex employer) which is actually broken, and the only way it will work, is if it is taped to a desk so that it hangs out of the PCMCIA card at a slign downward angle. And don't bump it or it dies. He was using Dongle D which was actually my spare. I broke mine a few minutes ago. I stood up. The cable somehow wrapped around my foot and comedy soon followed. I left a nifty chunk of plastic inside the PCMCIA card, and the dongle now has pins pointing in directions that remind me of a "Koosh Ball" from days of old.

I had a spare this time- thank god. Next time I won't be so lucky. Now what I really want to know is why these things are so fragile? We put a man on the moon for crying out loud. Why is it that my house has had at least 4 dongles get broken in the last year? We're not energetic people. Hell I barely leave the house more than twice a week so its not like I'm overworking the thing. Ugh. My hardware karma is now 2 points down this week.

I'm getting to old for this. It's scary but I actually thought that yesterday. Nate and I had begun with high hopes and anticipation for a successful day of hardware toil. A great pile of parts would hopefully yield us a few machines- boy were we wrong...