Recently I deactivated my account on Facebook. I had joined about 3 years ago (I think...maybe it was 2 years ago?) on the suggestion of a work friend. I liked connecting with people I hadn't talked to in forever (like from high school and such) and it was helpful in keeping in touch with my large extended family members. But then something happened where I found myself just spending way too much time on the site. I'd browse through photos of smiling people I did not know at events I did not attend simply because one friend had been "tagged" in a blurry cell phone shot. I felt like a creep. Like a voyeur. I didn't like that feeling, so I left.
I have to admit it was hard. Would I miss playing Scrabble (or Lexulous, whatever. I hated that name) with friends? Would the fear of "missing out" be too much to bear? Can I survive without knowing daily thoughts of some person I haven't actually seen in over 20 years? I kept the bookmark in my browser for the first week "just in case". I'd hover my mouse over that bookmark trying to decide if I wanted to click on it or not. On the computers that I normally use, Facebook was typically one of the first 5 bookmarks. As of this writing, it still appears in the favorites in the browser on my work computer. I'm on vacation this week so I haven't had an opportunity to delete it yet (other than the 3 days last week when I certainly could have deleted it quite easily, I just wasn't mentally strong enough yet).
Quitting cold turkey for me was the only option. I'm a bit obsessive by nature so I knew that if I did nothing or attempted a scale-back model to try to wean myself off of the site I'd never truly give it up. Now I'm not down on Facebook nor will I judge others who still use the site (the Wiff is still on there for instance). If you use the site and have fun with it, that's great. I just know that for me, it was eating into my productivity and keeping me from actually getting things done. That includes doing things like writing on this blog. This is currently my only creative outlet and I hadn't given much time to it lately. Even though I get embarrassed when I talk about this site (I'm blushing right now...seriously), a few people have actually come up to me and told me they like reading my rambling, barely coherent drivel. That's incredibly flattering and I never know how to react. I don't take compliments very well.
What does this mean for ye olde blog moving forward? Well it will eliminate those sometime visitors who found the link on my profile and clicked to visit the site. There wasn't a lot of those people anyway. What I hope it means is that I will be able to dedicate more time to writing here. When I started this a couple years ago my intent was to post once a week. I've kept to that loose schedule for the most part. Maybe without the FB distraction siphoning my time and energy I'll be able to post more dumb stories about my life. Wouldn't that be wicked awesome? Of course it would be. So if we were Facebook friends just know that you have one less virtual friend online. I'm still available in person for realsies though. Heck, you could even stop by the house and see the new kitchen! Yes, pictures will be forthcoming of the kitchen renovation.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
This Just In..
I believe that people who are on TV and in movies should be older than me. But as I get older (and older) this practice has become unsustainable (no one would want to see the kids of Glee portrayed by 40-somethings). Being immature and an old codger is very confusing. I still feel, maturity-wise anyway, like I'm 17 or so but then what happens is I am reminded of the harsh reality that I am so NOT 17 (like if I walk by a mirror for instance). Watching the NHL playoffs put my age in perspective every time the announcers talked about how OLD Chris Pronger is. He's 35. I've got 5 fuckin' years on the dude. There are guys in the NHL who are older than me (Mark Recchi and...well, just him really) but the bulk of them are under 30. It's enough to bum a guy out.
Music can be a different beastie when it comes to age. Again, I feel like people who's music I enjoy should always be older than me but for whatever reason it doesn't seem to bother me as much when I find out that they are (much) younger. Maybe it's because I generally don't watch videos or go to shows that much anymore. I remember the Wiff and I went to see The Futureheads a few years back and I was almost surprised at how young they were. It's like when we go out to see a band play at a club I think to myself that I'm close to being "that old dude" at the bar. This feeling of time slipping rapidly by also holds true for some books. The book I just finished was written by a dude 7 years my junior. As I was reading and enjoying his work there was a nagging thought at the back of my mind saying, "What the hell have I been doing with my life? What will be my legacy? A bunch of snarky remarks on a website that gets maybe 4 people a day reading it? Oh and a sizable dent on my side of the bed?"
There is one place where I know I can be certain that my Utopian ideal that the people on the idiot box must be older than me will be upheld: It's the local news here in Boston. If I stick to Channel 5 and (for the most part) Channel 4, I'm fairly safe. I cannot abide Channel 7 for a couple of reasons:
There are of course drawbacks to having older people on TV in this age of high definition. I've already mentioned Mary Richardson before but what about Susan Wornick? Holy hell. Someone box that thing up quickly before the children see it. If you are fair skinned, do not go tanning. Let Susan be a warning to you all. Is that being a hypocrite? Probably. It's certainly me being a dick. For the most part the reason that I like having these folks around is not that I think they're necessarily giving me a better product, it's all the same stuff generally, it's that watching them let's me briefly feel like I'm not on the downhill portion of life. I mean, hell, they're still on TV so it must mean that I'm still in my 20's right? Sigh...
And no, the kitchen is not done yet. Don't ask.
Music can be a different beastie when it comes to age. Again, I feel like people who's music I enjoy should always be older than me but for whatever reason it doesn't seem to bother me as much when I find out that they are (much) younger. Maybe it's because I generally don't watch videos or go to shows that much anymore. I remember the Wiff and I went to see The Futureheads a few years back and I was almost surprised at how young they were. It's like when we go out to see a band play at a club I think to myself that I'm close to being "that old dude" at the bar. This feeling of time slipping rapidly by also holds true for some books. The book I just finished was written by a dude 7 years my junior. As I was reading and enjoying his work there was a nagging thought at the back of my mind saying, "What the hell have I been doing with my life? What will be my legacy? A bunch of snarky remarks on a website that gets maybe 4 people a day reading it? Oh and a sizable dent on my side of the bed?"
There is one place where I know I can be certain that my Utopian ideal that the people on the idiot box must be older than me will be upheld: It's the local news here in Boston. If I stick to Channel 5 and (for the most part) Channel 4, I'm fairly safe. I cannot abide Channel 7 for a couple of reasons:
- They have embraced the green screen, let's-all-be-standing-around-randomly, swooping robo-cameras, flash-cut shiny-shiny-shiny style of news broadcasting that FOX "News" pioneered. But Channel 7 has ramped it up to a degree that makes it unwatchable (to me anyway). Both Channel 7 and the FOX affiliate seem to assume that everyone watching has A.D.D. and cannot concentrate on an image for more than 3 tenths of a second.
- Everyone on their broadcast seems to be fresh out of school, all tan and just as shiny as the chromed-out set they are on. I can't take a story seriously if the dude announcing it clearly just had his teeth whitened or if the woman sitting next to him looks like she came from a Barbie factory.
There are of course drawbacks to having older people on TV in this age of high definition. I've already mentioned Mary Richardson before but what about Susan Wornick? Holy hell. Someone box that thing up quickly before the children see it. If you are fair skinned, do not go tanning. Let Susan be a warning to you all. Is that being a hypocrite? Probably. It's certainly me being a dick. For the most part the reason that I like having these folks around is not that I think they're necessarily giving me a better product, it's all the same stuff generally, it's that watching them let's me briefly feel like I'm not on the downhill portion of life. I mean, hell, they're still on TV so it must mean that I'm still in my 20's right? Sigh...
And no, the kitchen is not done yet. Don't ask.
Friday, June 4, 2010
A Knight Out
Last night the Wiff and I went to go see Keith Knight, gentleman cartoonist, speak at the Malden Public Library and sign some of his books. He wasn't scheduled to begin his presentation until after 7pm so we decided to go grab some food early-bird style. The first place we went to was over in Malden and after standing by the sign that said "Please Wait to be Seated" for what I determined to be far too fucking long with no one coming over to us, we decided to leave. Just as we turned to leave a hostess/waitress finally came over and asked "Two for dinner?" Yea, not anymore lady. We're outsies.
We decided to head on over to Melrose so we could check out Beacon Hill Wine & Gourmet's new-ish store right there on Main St. The store is run by Rebecca and Gene Bernaldi and I went to high school with Rebecca. She is what I would describe as super smart and a genuinely nice person. I couldn't be happier for her success. Unfortunately, Rebecca wasn't working when we were there but since the store is really well done and the layout is intuitive, it was fine. They made great use of the space and the choices offered are impressive. Plus, the woman who helped us look for a bottle of wine was friendly and knowledgeable. I sound like a commercial or something. Whatever, I liked it. Go there if you can.
After buying the wine we went across the street to this little restaurant that the Wiff had wanted to check out for some time. Stearns & Hill's Bistro certainly looks the part of a good, neighborhood restaurant with the brick and dark wood facade and with the name of the place done in tile above the doors. The bar and restaurant area are all tastefully decorated and I liked the muted lighting in the place. However, I think most of the attention to detail has been spent on creating the atmosphere and not, in my opinion, where it really counts: the food. We ordered the calamari appetizer since it's usually a good gauge on how much control a kitchen has over the quality of the meals it produces.
The appetizer came out and although the presentation was decent, they failed the true test. The calamari rings were just this side of being rubbery little gaskets and the breading was far too thick. Ok, not a great start but let's reserve judgement shall we? I had ordered a burger done medium/well and the Wiff got a shrimp salad doo-dad. When the burger came out it was quite well done (overly cooked and super dry) and the fries were greasy little blobs with not even a hint of crispiness. Bummer. The Wiff said the shrimp were also over done. The overall vibe I got from the food was that the kitchen was lazy. They didn't seem too interested in trying to win new customers. The prices were reasonable but even a decently priced meal that isn't tasty will feel like a rip-off. Ah well, next time we'll just go to The Blue Ox.
During our dinner the thunderstorm that had been threatening to come finally did. The skies opened up and dumped an impressive amount of rain down onto the quaint little streets of Melrose. I looked like a movie where they have those huge rain maker things. It was epic. I put the thought that all our windows in the house were wide open out of my head and we made our way over to the library after the rain stopped. Keith's talk was cool and it was interesting to hear him talk about the projects he's been working on. I also didn't realize just how far ahead a syndicated cartoonist has to have their strips ready. It's like 5 weeks ahead for a daily strip. That's a lot of work. Even though he went to the same high school as me (go Tornados!...or..y'know, not) and I've been a fan of his stuff for years, I'd never actually met Keith. The Wiff went to college with him and I did know one of his sisters though. The guy is just super laid back and confident and it's nice to see he's doing what he loves to do and that he's able to be very successful. Thumbs up all around peeps.
What was not a thumbs up was the fact that the building where I had my very first job is now closed. The Malden Public Library is now in a whole new-to-me section that while I'm sure is better in the sense that it's not a crumbling building that is impossible to heat or cool it just does not have the same "cool factor" as the old building. I dunno when they moved but I'm sure it's been twenty years or something like that. I've not been there since 1988 myself. It didn't even smell like a library y'know? I just kinda...was. Hmph. Stupid reality.
We made our way home and as we turned onto our street it became pretty clear that the little storm we saw in Melrose had been much more intense back home. There were tree limbs and leaves everywhere. Several trees had major damage and it looked like the wind had blasted right down the street stripping leaves and branches like a big hand. We pulled into our driveway and went into the house to deal with the water that had been blown into the house during the storm. Luckily for us it wasn't as bad as I had anticipated. The big ol' tree in front of the house had only lost a relatively small branch which had fallen harmlessly onto the curb. Whew. That could have been much worse (and had been for some).
Then at 2:30 am I was awakened to a bizarre noise that I could not identify. I was still in a sleep fog when I heard it again. It sounded like a giant shopping cart with a stuck wheel and is full of empty bottles being dragged down the street sideways. I laid there listening to see if it would happen again and sure enough it did. GGGRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrararttllllllllllebbbbbrrt!!! Oh. What. The. Fuck? Who the hell is collecting recycled beer bottles at this time of the night? Goddamn crackheads, just cuz you can't sleep doesn't mean the rest of us want to be kept awake to listen to the crazy adventures of your sad existence ok? Go away...damn you...go away. Then, as I woke up some more I thought, "Hmm, that's no shopping cart." I got up and went into the front bedroom. As I looked out the window I saw the source of the noise. A huge truck with a fucking wood chipper on a trailer behind it was parked right in front of my house. Two very fat men were tossing branches into the big gaping mouth of the machine. BBBbbllllllllllrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaAAAHHHaaarchhTT!! Sigh. Goddamn city living.
I whispered my very best gypsy curse upon them and went back to bed. I will eventually move away from all these people. Someday this WILL happen, just not today.
We decided to head on over to Melrose so we could check out Beacon Hill Wine & Gourmet's new-ish store right there on Main St. The store is run by Rebecca and Gene Bernaldi and I went to high school with Rebecca. She is what I would describe as super smart and a genuinely nice person. I couldn't be happier for her success. Unfortunately, Rebecca wasn't working when we were there but since the store is really well done and the layout is intuitive, it was fine. They made great use of the space and the choices offered are impressive. Plus, the woman who helped us look for a bottle of wine was friendly and knowledgeable. I sound like a commercial or something. Whatever, I liked it. Go there if you can.
After buying the wine we went across the street to this little restaurant that the Wiff had wanted to check out for some time. Stearns & Hill's Bistro certainly looks the part of a good, neighborhood restaurant with the brick and dark wood facade and with the name of the place done in tile above the doors. The bar and restaurant area are all tastefully decorated and I liked the muted lighting in the place. However, I think most of the attention to detail has been spent on creating the atmosphere and not, in my opinion, where it really counts: the food. We ordered the calamari appetizer since it's usually a good gauge on how much control a kitchen has over the quality of the meals it produces.
The appetizer came out and although the presentation was decent, they failed the true test. The calamari rings were just this side of being rubbery little gaskets and the breading was far too thick. Ok, not a great start but let's reserve judgement shall we? I had ordered a burger done medium/well and the Wiff got a shrimp salad doo-dad. When the burger came out it was quite well done (overly cooked and super dry) and the fries were greasy little blobs with not even a hint of crispiness. Bummer. The Wiff said the shrimp were also over done. The overall vibe I got from the food was that the kitchen was lazy. They didn't seem too interested in trying to win new customers. The prices were reasonable but even a decently priced meal that isn't tasty will feel like a rip-off. Ah well, next time we'll just go to The Blue Ox.
During our dinner the thunderstorm that had been threatening to come finally did. The skies opened up and dumped an impressive amount of rain down onto the quaint little streets of Melrose. I looked like a movie where they have those huge rain maker things. It was epic. I put the thought that all our windows in the house were wide open out of my head and we made our way over to the library after the rain stopped. Keith's talk was cool and it was interesting to hear him talk about the projects he's been working on. I also didn't realize just how far ahead a syndicated cartoonist has to have their strips ready. It's like 5 weeks ahead for a daily strip. That's a lot of work. Even though he went to the same high school as me (go Tornados!...or..y'know, not) and I've been a fan of his stuff for years, I'd never actually met Keith. The Wiff went to college with him and I did know one of his sisters though. The guy is just super laid back and confident and it's nice to see he's doing what he loves to do and that he's able to be very successful. Thumbs up all around peeps.
What was not a thumbs up was the fact that the building where I had my very first job is now closed. The Malden Public Library is now in a whole new-to-me section that while I'm sure is better in the sense that it's not a crumbling building that is impossible to heat or cool it just does not have the same "cool factor" as the old building. I dunno when they moved but I'm sure it's been twenty years or something like that. I've not been there since 1988 myself. It didn't even smell like a library y'know? I just kinda...was. Hmph. Stupid reality.
We made our way home and as we turned onto our street it became pretty clear that the little storm we saw in Melrose had been much more intense back home. There were tree limbs and leaves everywhere. Several trees had major damage and it looked like the wind had blasted right down the street stripping leaves and branches like a big hand. We pulled into our driveway and went into the house to deal with the water that had been blown into the house during the storm. Luckily for us it wasn't as bad as I had anticipated. The big ol' tree in front of the house had only lost a relatively small branch which had fallen harmlessly onto the curb. Whew. That could have been much worse (and had been for some).
Then at 2:30 am I was awakened to a bizarre noise that I could not identify. I was still in a sleep fog when I heard it again. It sounded like a giant shopping cart with a stuck wheel and is full of empty bottles being dragged down the street sideways. I laid there listening to see if it would happen again and sure enough it did. GGGRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrararttllllllllllebbbbbrrt!!! Oh. What. The. Fuck? Who the hell is collecting recycled beer bottles at this time of the night? Goddamn crackheads, just cuz you can't sleep doesn't mean the rest of us want to be kept awake to listen to the crazy adventures of your sad existence ok? Go away...damn you...go away. Then, as I woke up some more I thought, "Hmm, that's no shopping cart." I got up and went into the front bedroom. As I looked out the window I saw the source of the noise. A huge truck with a fucking wood chipper on a trailer behind it was parked right in front of my house. Two very fat men were tossing branches into the big gaping mouth of the machine. BBBbbllllllllllrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaAAAHHHaaarchhTT!! Sigh. Goddamn city living.
I whispered my very best gypsy curse upon them and went back to bed. I will eventually move away from all these people. Someday this WILL happen, just not today.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Get Some More Rest. Trust Me.
I have had a week. And it has not been a good one.
The week started with a delay in getting the components I needed to finish a project at work. This pushed my time to meet the deadline off by a day and a half. So that meant that I had to work late the past several days. Although this isn't the best scenario and it certainly was an inconvenience, it doesn't happen very often so I'm really not complaining about working late so much as just putting it in context. So Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday (yesterday) I worked late each night. How late? I put in about 12 hours for each one of those days (oh awesome. I just did some quick math {thanks Malden public schools!}and figured out that I'm now officially working for free today).
And during all this the kitchen project is on-going and so my home is in disarray. Add to that the fact that we STILL do not have internet access at home (or Video On-Demand for that matter since that also runs off the router). The replacement router that Verizon sent us also did not work so that was less than helpful. Oh, and they sent what was clearly a used router. I'm all for recycling or whatever but goddamn it for the money I send these fuckers every month they should send me a brand-new router dammit. The Verizon guy is coming tomorrow to troubleshoot and hopefully fix what the issue is. I just wanna watch TV shows on Hulu. Is that too much to ask? So far, yes. Yes it is.
Meanwhile work is crazy busy and threatening to become busier. Hmph. I had to do a couple of trainings this week and that never sits well with me. At this company we are scattered between several building sites (in Cambridge, MA all within walking distance of each other. It's inconvenient but you have to make it work) and so scheduling meetings with people can be difficult. Especially if they have another meeting that butts (heh..."butts") up against the time slot you are trying to book. They may have to walk from one site to get to the next meeting at another site which can make the start times slightly off. The running joke here is that meetings usually start 5-7 minutes late but I've seen people come in 10 minutes late. My point? Ok, chill, I'm getting there. I like how I projected that you the reader might be bored by all this detail since it was boring me. But I don't really know do I? Perhaps you LOVE details. Maybe you revel in making lists and organizing things by shape and size as well. I mean, you're still reading this paragraph right?
I still show up to meetings on time if not slightly early if I can. I have yet to adjust to this slight delay in start times and so when no one had showed up for the 9 am training yesterday by 9:05 I have to admit to being a bit pissed. Finally 3 of the 4 people showed up by about 7 past 9. I got the training started and was making good progress when at 9:37 (yes, I remember the exact time) the 4th person finally showed up. He apologized and found a seat. I was so annoyed with him. I looked at him and then at the clock and said "Look, I can't sign off on your training seeing as how you missed half of it. You'll have to reschedule." Ooooh! Layin' down the LAW! Ok, so a minor power trip there but c'mon...Fuck that guy. Whatta douche. He looked at me like "Really?" and I gave him my best "Yea, fucking REALLY" face (was it the Gas Face perhaps?). So he got up and left the conference room. The other nozzles in the class all continued to stare down at the table. That's right bitches. Don't make eyes at me.
Then last night after working late (again) I decided to take a different route home than usual. On Wednesday after working late I had encountered a lot of traffic over near the Museum of Science and I just did not have the stamina to deal with another clusterfuck. So I took the longer but somewhat more scenic route home. Ye Olde Jetta was in fine form but a bit parched as the fuel gauge "fill me" light had been on since the previous night. I knew I had enough to get to my usual fill-up station so I wasn't really concerned about it. As I was driving I had passed several gas stations and noted that none of them sold diesel. I meandered along through Melrose and made my way onto Route 1 north in Saugus. That's when I noticed that the Hess station had a diesel sign. "Oh sweet", I thought to myself. "I'll just fill up here and it'll be done." The station I usually go to is past my house so I was glad that I could just get this done now and not have to drive right by my house to go to the Irving station in Salem. Since I was feeling a bit brain-dead and tired I welcomed the chance to get home earlier.
I pulled in and sidled up to a pump. It looked just like the ones at the Irving station. Two pumps on the right, the space in the middle where you put in your credit card and stuff, and on the left-hand side there was a green pump. Nice. Let's do this. I got out, put in my credit card, picked up the green nozzle and started pumping. I stood there not really looking at anything for a little bit. Just sort of spacing out really. Then I looked at the pump itself. "Hmm," I thought. "Diesel here is pretty cheap. This may be my new place. Hey, look at that. They have the wrong rating system here. It says '87 octane'. Heh, don't they know that diesel has cetane not octane? Boy, Hess must be run by a buncha maroons." La, la, la, la, still pumping away with not a care in the world.
And then it hit me. Oh fuck. Oh no. Oh shit. I looked, I REALLY looked at the pump. There, written in white letters 5 inches high on the green background was the word "REGULAR". Oh fuck me. I immediately let go of the handle on the pump. How much had I dumped in there? "12.08 gallons. Of. The. Wrong. Fuel", said the gauge in what I perceived as a slightly dickish tone. FUUUUUCK! I stood there with the nozzle still in the tank for a good minute just trying to assess if this had actually just happened. Yep. It had. Ok, so what the fuck do I do now? Well, I knew enough not to try to start the thing up but that still means that I am stuck here. As I walked around the car to grab my cell phone to call for Triple A I noticed a big (and I do mean BIG) sign off to the right that said "DIESEL HERE" right over a pump that was separated from all the others like it had farted or something. And the handle was bright red. No, Hess gas station, no. Diesel is supposed to have a GREEN nozzle thingie. Goddamn stupid brain.
I know I'm totally projecting onto Hess that they're the dummies for having their pumps kinda-sorta look like diesel pumps from a completely different company but jumping-jesus-fuck-a-monkey they do look like the Irving ones.
This is not the offending pump but it does illustrate the layout of the one I used last night. See how the tyrants at Hess like to segregate the "regular" fuel from the "premium" and "plus" options? I know what they're doing here. They are trying to subliminally make people who do not need "plus" or "premium" fuel for their cars (and who are not paying attention) to instinctually grab for those pumps rather than the poor, lonely "regular" pump that has been banished to the left. So not only have they ostracized the diesel fuel onto its own separate island away from the "normal" fuels but now they also are trying to swindle the brain-dead public into buying the more expensive types of gas. I know you're game Mr. Hess and I'm callin' you out on this. Yer a sneaky mofo.
And so 35 minutes later the tow truck showed up and towed my poor poisoned Jetta home. The kid (and he was a kid too, like 21 years old. Fucking hell I'm ancient) did a good job getting the thing backed into our driveway. He had to do like a 52-point turn to get it in but he managed. By this time it was about 9pm and since his truck was loud and had flashing lights every one of my neighbors were in their windows gawking at us. Yea, I know. I would have done the same thing but it really just annoyed me last night. I kept saying "Yes, it's a tow truck. Fuckin' AMAZING huh?" to no one in particular. I wasn't in the best mood. I had just spent $38 on fuel I could not use, had my car towed and now I have to find a place that will be able to fix this problem that I created. I got my stuff out of the backseat, locked the car (not sure why) and went in to drink a nice scotch to put this day behind me.
So right now the car is sitting stoically in my driveway awaiting another tow truck to drag it to the doctor's. It's a good thing I have my mantra to guide me through these little hiccups that life and my tiny brain throw at me. None of this shit matters. I must remain calm.
UPDATE: Had the car towed to the garage on Saturday and now some $250+ later, she's back to her old self. Although I think the trust she had in me is gone.
The week started with a delay in getting the components I needed to finish a project at work. This pushed my time to meet the deadline off by a day and a half. So that meant that I had to work late the past several days. Although this isn't the best scenario and it certainly was an inconvenience, it doesn't happen very often so I'm really not complaining about working late so much as just putting it in context. So Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday (yesterday) I worked late each night. How late? I put in about 12 hours for each one of those days (oh awesome. I just did some quick math {thanks Malden public schools!}and figured out that I'm now officially working for free today).
And during all this the kitchen project is on-going and so my home is in disarray. Add to that the fact that we STILL do not have internet access at home (or Video On-Demand for that matter since that also runs off the router). The replacement router that Verizon sent us also did not work so that was less than helpful. Oh, and they sent what was clearly a used router. I'm all for recycling or whatever but goddamn it for the money I send these fuckers every month they should send me a brand-new router dammit. The Verizon guy is coming tomorrow to troubleshoot and hopefully fix what the issue is. I just wanna watch TV shows on Hulu. Is that too much to ask? So far, yes. Yes it is.
Meanwhile work is crazy busy and threatening to become busier. Hmph. I had to do a couple of trainings this week and that never sits well with me. At this company we are scattered between several building sites (in Cambridge, MA all within walking distance of each other. It's inconvenient but you have to make it work) and so scheduling meetings with people can be difficult. Especially if they have another meeting that butts (heh..."butts") up against the time slot you are trying to book. They may have to walk from one site to get to the next meeting at another site which can make the start times slightly off. The running joke here is that meetings usually start 5-7 minutes late but I've seen people come in 10 minutes late. My point? Ok, chill, I'm getting there. I like how I projected that you the reader might be bored by all this detail since it was boring me. But I don't really know do I? Perhaps you LOVE details. Maybe you revel in making lists and organizing things by shape and size as well. I mean, you're still reading this paragraph right?
I still show up to meetings on time if not slightly early if I can. I have yet to adjust to this slight delay in start times and so when no one had showed up for the 9 am training yesterday by 9:05 I have to admit to being a bit pissed. Finally 3 of the 4 people showed up by about 7 past 9. I got the training started and was making good progress when at 9:37 (yes, I remember the exact time) the 4th person finally showed up. He apologized and found a seat. I was so annoyed with him. I looked at him and then at the clock and said "Look, I can't sign off on your training seeing as how you missed half of it. You'll have to reschedule." Ooooh! Layin' down the LAW! Ok, so a minor power trip there but c'mon...Fuck that guy. Whatta douche. He looked at me like "Really?" and I gave him my best "Yea, fucking REALLY" face (was it the Gas Face perhaps?). So he got up and left the conference room. The other nozzles in the class all continued to stare down at the table. That's right bitches. Don't make eyes at me.
Then last night after working late (again) I decided to take a different route home than usual. On Wednesday after working late I had encountered a lot of traffic over near the Museum of Science and I just did not have the stamina to deal with another clusterfuck. So I took the longer but somewhat more scenic route home. Ye Olde Jetta was in fine form but a bit parched as the fuel gauge "fill me" light had been on since the previous night. I knew I had enough to get to my usual fill-up station so I wasn't really concerned about it. As I was driving I had passed several gas stations and noted that none of them sold diesel. I meandered along through Melrose and made my way onto Route 1 north in Saugus. That's when I noticed that the Hess station had a diesel sign. "Oh sweet", I thought to myself. "I'll just fill up here and it'll be done." The station I usually go to is past my house so I was glad that I could just get this done now and not have to drive right by my house to go to the Irving station in Salem. Since I was feeling a bit brain-dead and tired I welcomed the chance to get home earlier.
I pulled in and sidled up to a pump. It looked just like the ones at the Irving station. Two pumps on the right, the space in the middle where you put in your credit card and stuff, and on the left-hand side there was a green pump. Nice. Let's do this. I got out, put in my credit card, picked up the green nozzle and started pumping. I stood there not really looking at anything for a little bit. Just sort of spacing out really. Then I looked at the pump itself. "Hmm," I thought. "Diesel here is pretty cheap. This may be my new place. Hey, look at that. They have the wrong rating system here. It says '87 octane'. Heh, don't they know that diesel has cetane not octane? Boy, Hess must be run by a buncha maroons." La, la, la, la, still pumping away with not a care in the world.
And then it hit me. Oh fuck. Oh no. Oh shit. I looked, I REALLY looked at the pump. There, written in white letters 5 inches high on the green background was the word "REGULAR". Oh fuck me. I immediately let go of the handle on the pump. How much had I dumped in there? "12.08 gallons. Of. The. Wrong. Fuel", said the gauge in what I perceived as a slightly dickish tone. FUUUUUCK! I stood there with the nozzle still in the tank for a good minute just trying to assess if this had actually just happened. Yep. It had. Ok, so what the fuck do I do now? Well, I knew enough not to try to start the thing up but that still means that I am stuck here. As I walked around the car to grab my cell phone to call for Triple A I noticed a big (and I do mean BIG) sign off to the right that said "DIESEL HERE" right over a pump that was separated from all the others like it had farted or something. And the handle was bright red. No, Hess gas station, no. Diesel is supposed to have a GREEN nozzle thingie. Goddamn stupid brain.
I know I'm totally projecting onto Hess that they're the dummies for having their pumps kinda-sorta look like diesel pumps from a completely different company but jumping-jesus-fuck-a-monkey they do look like the Irving ones.
This is not the offending pump but it does illustrate the layout of the one I used last night. See how the tyrants at Hess like to segregate the "regular" fuel from the "premium" and "plus" options? I know what they're doing here. They are trying to subliminally make people who do not need "plus" or "premium" fuel for their cars (and who are not paying attention) to instinctually grab for those pumps rather than the poor, lonely "regular" pump that has been banished to the left. So not only have they ostracized the diesel fuel onto its own separate island away from the "normal" fuels but now they also are trying to swindle the brain-dead public into buying the more expensive types of gas. I know you're game Mr. Hess and I'm callin' you out on this. Yer a sneaky mofo.
And so 35 minutes later the tow truck showed up and towed my poor poisoned Jetta home. The kid (and he was a kid too, like 21 years old. Fucking hell I'm ancient) did a good job getting the thing backed into our driveway. He had to do like a 52-point turn to get it in but he managed. By this time it was about 9pm and since his truck was loud and had flashing lights every one of my neighbors were in their windows gawking at us. Yea, I know. I would have done the same thing but it really just annoyed me last night. I kept saying "Yes, it's a tow truck. Fuckin' AMAZING huh?" to no one in particular. I wasn't in the best mood. I had just spent $38 on fuel I could not use, had my car towed and now I have to find a place that will be able to fix this problem that I created. I got my stuff out of the backseat, locked the car (not sure why) and went in to drink a nice scotch to put this day behind me.
So right now the car is sitting stoically in my driveway awaiting another tow truck to drag it to the doctor's. It's a good thing I have my mantra to guide me through these little hiccups that life and my tiny brain throw at me. None of this shit matters. I must remain calm.
UPDATE: Had the car towed to the garage on Saturday and now some $250+ later, she's back to her old self. Although I think the trust she had in me is gone.
Monday, May 24, 2010
It'll Take Two Weeks
We are deep in the middle of the kitchen/pantry remodel project thing. It's...uh, stressful. I'll post pics and stuff when it's all done but let's just say that at the moment my house is a bit messy. All the stuff that's usually in the kitchen is now in the dining room and has spilled into the living room a little too. It resembles one of those houses you see on Hoarders minus the decomposing animals that is. Plus as a bonus this past weekend our modem shit the bed so we've been without internet access since Friday. It isn't a terrible thing but it is annoying. Verizon tells us that the new modem will be here on Tuesday. God, I guess I'm going to have to like, talk to the Wiff and stuff until then. Oh wait, there's still TV. Whew!
So what else is going on? The Wiff and I went to see Bill Burr play at the Wilbur Theater a couple weeks ago. I'd only seen him on his specials on TV and I've been a faithful listener to his Monday Morning Podcast for a while now. This was the first time seeing him perform live and it was a really good show. The opener was Joe DeRosa (who works with Bill on the Uninformed Radio Show) and he was really good too. I'd only heard him on the radio so to see him perform was cool. We took the train into the city (Blue line to the Orange line) and that was a mistake. We should never have transferred to the Orange line. That line is just packed to the gills with people with whom I'd rather not be in an enclosed metal tube. The Blue line is no picnic either by the by. Standing on the platform at State Street with the stale urine smell wafting by my nostrils and being forced to listen to inane conversations going on around me made me wish that we had driven into Boston. But the parking situation in the theater district is enough to give me fits so the only option really was the T.
After the show we decided that we'd just walk up Tremont Street to Government Center and skip the whole Orange line transfer nonsense completely. That was a much better idea. Although walking up Tremont Street on a Friday night is pretty annoying too. You kind of have to do the drunk-college-kid/lost-tourist/suburbanites-in-to-see-a-show hurdle in order to maintain any semblance of forward motion on the sidewalk. Normally I walk at a pretty slow pace but I guess I had shifted into another gear cuz the Wiff said she had a hard time keeping up with me. Look lady, I'm old and fat but I can move if I have to. We made it back to the car which was parked at Wonderland, picked up a pizza at Bianchi's, and listened to the Bruins lose in overtime to the Flyers. Who knew they would go on to lose 4 in a row and be eliminated? Schmucks.
Now I have to root for the Flyers to eliminate the Canadians. Ultimately I think I want to see the Blackhawks win it this year but honestly, the wind is out of my sails now. I'm still watching the games but the huge choke that the Bruins let happen still stings. Ah well. At least the games are still fun to watch.
Oh, and my iTunes did something wonky the other day. I have approximately 8,500 songs on my home computer and suddenly I had over 23,000. It had made doubles and sometimes triples of the MP3 files and in the process, wiped out all the cover art for the albums. I was pissed. So now I have to do the tedious and time consuming chore of pruning the files, making sure that they are the correct ones, and updating and/or downloading the cover art for all my music files. It sucks balls and I don't want to do it. I have my iTunes pointing to a removable hard drive thing and I guess the settings got ... oh who cares? You certainly don't. All I know is that I have to spend a stupid amount of time fixing this. I miss vinyl.
So what else is going on? The Wiff and I went to see Bill Burr play at the Wilbur Theater a couple weeks ago. I'd only seen him on his specials on TV and I've been a faithful listener to his Monday Morning Podcast for a while now. This was the first time seeing him perform live and it was a really good show. The opener was Joe DeRosa (who works with Bill on the Uninformed Radio Show) and he was really good too. I'd only heard him on the radio so to see him perform was cool. We took the train into the city (Blue line to the Orange line) and that was a mistake. We should never have transferred to the Orange line. That line is just packed to the gills with people with whom I'd rather not be in an enclosed metal tube. The Blue line is no picnic either by the by. Standing on the platform at State Street with the stale urine smell wafting by my nostrils and being forced to listen to inane conversations going on around me made me wish that we had driven into Boston. But the parking situation in the theater district is enough to give me fits so the only option really was the T.
After the show we decided that we'd just walk up Tremont Street to Government Center and skip the whole Orange line transfer nonsense completely. That was a much better idea. Although walking up Tremont Street on a Friday night is pretty annoying too. You kind of have to do the drunk-college-kid/lost-tourist/suburbanites-in-to-see-a-show hurdle in order to maintain any semblance of forward motion on the sidewalk. Normally I walk at a pretty slow pace but I guess I had shifted into another gear cuz the Wiff said she had a hard time keeping up with me. Look lady, I'm old and fat but I can move if I have to. We made it back to the car which was parked at Wonderland, picked up a pizza at Bianchi's, and listened to the Bruins lose in overtime to the Flyers. Who knew they would go on to lose 4 in a row and be eliminated? Schmucks.
Now I have to root for the Flyers to eliminate the Canadians. Ultimately I think I want to see the Blackhawks win it this year but honestly, the wind is out of my sails now. I'm still watching the games but the huge choke that the Bruins let happen still stings. Ah well. At least the games are still fun to watch.
Oh, and my iTunes did something wonky the other day. I have approximately 8,500 songs on my home computer and suddenly I had over 23,000. It had made doubles and sometimes triples of the MP3 files and in the process, wiped out all the cover art for the albums. I was pissed. So now I have to do the tedious and time consuming chore of pruning the files, making sure that they are the correct ones, and updating and/or downloading the cover art for all my music files. It sucks balls and I don't want to do it. I have my iTunes pointing to a removable hard drive thing and I guess the settings got ... oh who cares? You certainly don't. All I know is that I have to spend a stupid amount of time fixing this. I miss vinyl.
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