Song of the Day

"My Interpretation" ~ Mika

You talk about life, you talk about death,
And everything in between,
Like it's nothing, and the words are easy.
You talk about me, and you talk about you,
And everything I do,
Like it's something, that needs repeating.
I don't need an alibi or for you to realize,
The things we left unsaid,
Are only taking space up in our head.
Make it my fault, win the game
Point the finger, place the blame
It does me up and down,
It doesn't matter now.

'Cause I don't care if I ever talk to you again.
This is not about emotion,
I don't need a reason not to care what you say,
Or what happened in the end.
This is my interpretation,
And it don't, don't make sense.

The first two weeks turn into ten,
I hold my breath and wonder when it'll happen,
Does it really matter?
If half of what you said is true,
And half of what I didn't do could be different,
Would it make it better?
If we forget the things we know.
Would we have somewhere to go?
The only way is down, I can see that now.

'Cause I don't care if I ever talk to you again.
This is not about emotion,
I don't need a reason not to care what you say,
Or what happened in the end.
This is my interpretation,
And it don't, don't make sense.

It's really not such a sacrifice

'Cause I don't care if I ever talk to you again.
This is not about emotion,
I don't need a reason not to care what you say,
Or what happened in the end.
This is my interpretation,
And it don't, don't make sense.

And it don't have to make no sense to you at all,
'Cause this is my interpretation, yeah, yeah, yeah.

It's no donut, but it was dunkin'

As some of you are aware ... I'm quite a brand specific ... and once I find something I like, I tend to drive far out of my way to find it. Or buy it online. Until I can no longer find it. Then I bitch about it.

And every so often one of the products I'm very specific about surprises me in ways I never dreamed possible. In good ways.

Like one of my memory cards from my digital camera. That I dropped into a cup of coffee. Where it sat for a few seconds until I realized that splash was bad. Because the card still had stuff I needed to copy off of it. I feared the worst ... but I pulled it out, shook it off and let it sit, holes down to drain, for a few days ... I figured I was out one of my kick-ass Lexar Professional 2GB 133x with Write Acceleration memory cards. About $50.

Then today, I put it into the card reader and everything was beautiful. All the data copied over, I ran a couple of disk diagnostic utilities on and it's operating as normal. I love solid state stuff. No moving parts, and mere fluctuations in the electrical current that appear as zeros and ones to the device readers. Science is yummy.

So ... we learned that

Yay me :D

The power of the brain

This morning it was ZERO degrees.

That's right. ZERO. As in Mercury-Not-Rising.

My car, the aptly named Icey Blue, sat there glistening with a fresh coating of frost. And a new $400 starter I had installed last weekend. Between that piece of genuine Motorcraft hardware (yeah, I could have purchased aftermarket, or reconditioned, but I love my car and prefer genuine manufacturer parts and will pay the additional $75), and the complementary component checks on the rest of Icey Blue's electrical system by the fine folks at the Ford Dealership, I wasn't worried ... I knew the car would start. And they even gave me a free wash and vacuum (thanks for that market pressure, Saturn). So I walk over to the car, press the button on the remote, the electric motor tripped the unlocked mechanism and I opened the door without issue, started the car, cleaned my windows off, got in and started my morning commute to work.

And, as is my usual, I stopped to get a cup of coffee. I had my spare key in my pocket, and verified that it was actually the spare key, prior to locking the car, while it was running, to go in and get my coffee (because, and this is for reals in the State of Ohio, if you leave your car running, and unlocked, and it gets stolen, you can be ticketed. Granted, it would take an asshole cop to do that, but during my years as a newspaper reporter, I've seen it done.).

I come out, put the key in the lock ... and fuck me sideways ... my lock is frozen. I then find out I only have one door that has a keyed lock on my car. Yes, the spare key was on the spare alarm fob with the automatic door lock/unlock, but I learned the automatic buttons don't work when the car is running. I asked Ford about it, they said it keeps you from accidentally unlocking your doors or popping the trunk by hitting the button as you drive down the highway.

Fascinating, as Spock would say. But frustrating, because it is ZERO fucking degrees outside, I have to be on a conference call at work at 8:30, it's 8:05 and I'm 15 minutes from work. Locked out of my running car.

This is where you, as a reader who pays attention to titles, may ask "Uh, what does a frozen lock, a single locking door, a disabled electronic lock and it being ZERO degrees outside have to do with the power of the brain?

I am a voracious reader. And have been since I was a kid. In first grade I was the kid that had a one-on-one reading tutor - but it was because I was reading at a 6th grade level ... not remedial.

As a kid I'd read whatever I could get my hands on wherever I was. Books, magazines, newspapers, cereal boxes, rules and regulations posted on the walls of government buildings (did you know if the fine Customs agent at the Canadian border does not believe you are of sound character you can be required to post a cash bond up to $10,000 USD in order to enter the country of Canada?) or my step-dad's playboy collection (hey, it was the 70's, I was in 3rd grade).

One day I found something I thought was cool - a magazine called Reader's Digest. And I'd read them every month. One of the stories, I wanna say I was ten or eleven at the time, was one of those reader-submitted humor bits where a nurse had the same problem I had today - a frozen door lock. She went back into the hospital, got a syringe, and some rubbing alcohol, shot it into the lock, and it defrosted the ice crystals that were dastardly blocking the mechanism from turning after the serated key had displaced the locking pins in the proper sequence.

So, I went back into the store, asked the store manager if she had rubbing alcohol (she did), grabbed a coffee stirrer, filled it with rubbing alcohol, inserted it into the lock, and let it drip into the tumbler mechanism.

I waited15 seconds, put the key in the lock, turned like the day it was made. Got in, drove to work, and had enough time to get some oatmeal to eat during the conference call. Thanks to something cool I read a long time ago as a child and managed to retain.

Behold, the power of the brain, indeed.

Getting Lost in LOST

Uh ... so I just got caught up on Season 4 of LOST.

Fuck me it's good TV again.

Can't wait for Season 4 of Battlestar Galactica!

Or the return of Heroes.

(Uh, am I a nerd? Fuck. I'm a nerd.)

Song of the Day

"Charley Patton Songs" ~ Gomez

I spend a lifetime
Trying to decipher
Charley Patton Songs.

I don't know why I bother,
Even if I think it's right,
It always comes out wroung.

But I'm old enough,
Old enough to know why
You're still young enough,
Young enough to still try, still try.

I keep on pushing,
For some way through it,
Til I'm knackered out

I know how you're feeling,
Even though I've never been
That far south

But I'm old enough,
Old enough to know why
You're still young enough,
Young enough to still try, still try.

And I been lookin in New York,
I been lookin in Chicago,
I been lookin in New Orleans
I can't find you

I been lookin in Detroit,
I been lookin in Los Angeles,
I been lookin in Louisville
I cannot find you

Well I'm old enough,
Old enough to know why
You're still young enough,
Young enough to still try, you still try.

I been lookin in New York,
I been lookin in Chicago,
I been lookin in New Orleans
I can't find you

I been lookin in Detroit,
I been lookin in Los Angeles,
I been lookin in Louisville
I cannot find you

I been lookin in the Lonely States,
I been lookin in Philadelphia,
I been lookin in Memphis,
I cannot find you,
I cannot find you

Short ... and to the point

When you revisit something / somewhere you experienced through an ex ... do look back at the good that was ... or the bad that ended it?

I tend to look back on the good that was.

I'm listening to a band named Gomez. An ex-girlfriend was a huge fan and turned me on to them. I can't listen without thinking of her.

And the thoughts are good. really.

So I wonder - when you reflect back on who introduced you to something cool - do you smile or pout?

A conversation with myself

Because I'm bored and have no real way to say what's on my mind ... I give you a Q&A between me and me.

My questions to me are in regular type.

My answers to me are in bold type.

---

Hey, did you see the trailer for the new "Larry the Cable Guy" movie?

No. Because I don't live in a trailer.

The previews for movies are called trailers.

Don't insult my smugness.

So .... are you going to see it?

No. Because I don't live in a trailer.

I thought you liked comedy? Larry's funny.

I do like comedy. I don't like him. And no, I'm not going to see his movie. He's not funny. He's a gimmick with predictable, lame, un-funny jokes that play to the lowest common human factor.

(Said in hick-drawl) "I don't care who you are ...."

(Interrupting you:) Stop quoting him. If your IQ and/or age is greater than the .... say .... the cubed root of 15,625, Larry The Cable Guy isn't funny.

You just hate him.

No, I don't hate him. He's. Just. Not. Funny.

Oh, so you just hate him cause he's getting paid.

No, I don't hate the guy for making money. Fools and their money are meant to be parted. If you want to give your money to a guy with a gimmick, that's your business. Roughly 2.4 million people saw his last movie. There's a obviously a market for redneck humor used to patronize the masses and distract them from the obvious. Hell, There were eight Ernest movies made. Enough said there.

So why do you hate him?

Dumbing down the nation.

(and for the record - his 'southern' humor is all based on his upbringing in ... Nebraska. See, gimmick. But good for him.)

Some people have no right to live

Back when I started blogging, I was on diaryland. Then, I moved here. I still have the diaryland account ... I use it to post things for me to review, and maybe share with a handful of select - and I mean handful and select - dear friends.

While I was there, I made a couple of great friends, including one from the Gold Coast of Australia. She and I seemed to have similar outlooks on life, and were walking parallel paths, and enjoyed keeping track of each other exploits in life as we approached 40.

As I was catching up on her blog after a crazy week of on call and school, I was crushed to find her 15-year-old son and his best friend were killed by a woman "allegedly" driving under the influence of prescription drugs and driving without a license, having lost it for previous violations.

From reading Becka's blog, her son Nathan was a fighter and loved life.

And fought hard for it, a couple of times. He had juvenile diabetes, nearly died a few months ago from complications related to it, was in a coma for a couple of days, but came back cracking jokes about it ... that's the kind of kid he was.

He'd overcome a whole lot of other medical shit in his life that would have taken weaker minds and spirits.

His organs were donated, his spirit will live on, but his life was needlessly taken by a woman who was blowing kisses to her husband at the initial court hearing investigating why she drove her station wagon into a crowd of kids on a sidewalk.

I hope that bitch rots in hell.

My heart is with you Becka. As a friend, and a parent.

(Becka's blog is locked, or I'd share the link. Hug your kids tonight.)

Give Barack Obama your $5.01 today.

Today (Lincoln's Birthday) is a one of those "money bomb" days for Barack Obama.

Why?

Well, from the donation page on his website:

"This campaign is about building a different kind of politics. We don't take money from lobbyists or political action committees, and we're going to build a broad base of individual donors to ensure that this campaign answers to no one but the people. That starts with you."

So, in honor of Lincoln's birthday there's a national drive on to donate two Lincolns to his campaign.

Two Lincolns? The five and the penny (or any multiple thereof). This is a direct link to the main donation page.

Yeah, I did. Why? I believe. And I'm ready for a change.

Are we too connected?

So apparently, the lives of several million people were woefully impacted yesterday for about three hours when the had to take a break from their Blackberry and realize that there is life outside of a smart phone.

Cause it was down. For the second time in nine years, as users, according to the Blackberry people, "experienced intermittent delays."

I remember when cell phones were for the obnoxious and annoying who used them as status symbols.

Same with the Blackberry - or, as it's called, the Crack-berry - but even more so because of the level of connection you have with the office, while being outside the office.

But really, do we need to be this connected to our jobs? Take this piece of the story from the Associated Press where crackberry user vents:

Outages have been rare in the BlackBerry's nine-year history, but when they do hit, subscribers who have become addicted to the gadgets are quick to unleash their fury.

"I'm mad — it's enough already," said a frustrated Stuart Gold, who said he gets 1,000 e-mails a day as director of field marketing for Web analytics company Omniture Inc.

Gold, who worked most of Monday on a laptop while traveling, plans to ask his company to buy him a backup smart phone from a rival like Palm Inc., which makes the Treo, in case BlackBerry service goes on the blink again.

"I don't know what happened, I don't care what happened. They need to save their excuses for someone who cares," Gold said.

I understand Stuart's frustration. Maybe.

But really ... is Stuart *that* important? 1,000 emails a day? On a crackberry? And he still has working thumbs?

Maybe he's just frustrated because he's named Stuart and has no life outside of his 1,000 emails a day - most of which, I'm guessing, deal with enlarging his manhood, finding him a Russian Mail Order Bride, offering him $999 for online gambling or informing him of a relative in some African or Eastern European country who's tragically died with no apparent heirs, but left millions of dollars in the bank that for a small transfer fee, can be direct-deposited into his account here, in the US, as long as he gives them the account number.

(Oh, wait, that's my spam box. And I've yet to receive any of that - despite giving out my bank account, buying a woman, and a bigger penis. I stay away from the gambling sites - I'm pretty sure they're a scam .... but really, if that's my spam box, I'm sure his is worse. Because he's named Stuart.)

And no, it's not tech envy. I'm not really a gadgety person. I want a phone that's a phone. I want a music player that's a music player. I want a computer that's a computer. Not some all-in-one toy I can flash around. Besides, I used a crackberry. One week. For a job I had. Was enough. Don't want one, don't care to have one.

Do I understand the market? Sure. Do I support crackberrys and their users? Sure.

Sadly, I know enough people like Stuart who feel the need to be that connected with work, rather than life.

Like the saying goes, nobody on their deathbed ever says, "Man, I wish I would have worked more."

Reason 43,352 why I hate CNN

So it's 15 minutes after 8 on "Super Tuesday" (it's super, thanks for asking!) and Wolf Blitzer is giving us projections based on LESS THAN ONE PERCENT of a state's precincts reporting results.

Lemme repeat that. LESS THAN ONE FUCKING PERCENT.

Jesus, Wolf. I'm all for being first and shit, but declaring a winner with LESS THAN ONE FUCKING PERCENT of the votes counted? Sure, I know they do exit polling, too. I used to do it. People lie.

But really ... prejecting (his pronunciation was pre-ject not pro-ject ... ) on exit polls and LESS THAN ONE FUCKING PERCENT OF THE ACTUAL VOTE COUNTED ... that's a bit out on the limb.

Ever think they maybe counted a black precinct? Or a white one? Or that lesbian community?

Speaking of lesbians ... let's talk CNN reporter Dana Bash - what fucking planet is that thing from? I've not seen a face that long and angular since Mr. Ed.

I'm alive. Really. Barely. But really.

(Not really. Caught a minor case of the flu. Got over that. Worked a 21-straight hour day. Got over that. Back in school. [Not trying to get over that. 15 more classes to degree though.]

Ended up feeling sneezy and weird on Wednesday the 23rd, turned into a double-ear infection and sinus infection. Lost track of a couple of days during the past 10 ... been home and attempting to stay in touch with at least my mom. With the help of some intestional-clearing antibiotics [even says so on the warning label - don't go far from porcelain] slowly on my way back to feeling somewhat normal. Even worked half-a-day Friday. At work.

-E)