Showing posts with label random rubbish. Show all posts
Showing posts with label random rubbish. Show all posts
Monday, March 12, 2007
At Kathy's request
At Kathy's request I'm writing another entry to push the one about Heino coming over off the top of the list. As she expressed it, it reads a little like I'm a kid waiting for his little girlfriend to arrive. But what does she know? He's my BIG girlfriend :-)
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Heino's coming
The last time I saw Heino was at Tullamarine Airport, Melbourne, Sunday October 2 2005. You haven't been reading long if you don't know that Heino is my best mate.
It fell to Heino to drive me from the last house I lived in at Footscray to the airport to fly off to a different life in the USA. I know how I felt that day, Sunday November 17th 2002. I think I know how he felt; we hugged but, being blokes, not much was said. Not much needed to be said. We've been mates for a third of a century and I certainly hoped that wasn't the last time I saw him.
I've been back to Australia four times since then. It's been my pleasure to stay at his house but it's always been understood that, given how well I know Melbourne, I go to the places I want to revisit pretty much on my own. That said, we always visit whichever computer market is open the first weekend, be it at Camberwell or Collingwood. Heino and his family always make me feel welcome and it's become the long standing joke that Petaluma Pacific Suites (not the real name) are always open to me.
This time around he's coming here to Phoenix! It's taken some orchestrating mainly because, even though the United Airlines Mileage Plus website says that I can book flights for someone other than myself using my points I've found that hard to believe. The website also doesn't make it at all clear, when booking the flight, that it really is for someone else. Indeed, the first time I tried, the site errored out with the complaint that Heino wasn't me. Well gee guys, I know that - why did you think I entered a different passenger name? The site told me that if I did nothing the booking would expire in 48 hours so I waited 72 and tried again.
It failed again but with a different error message and instructions to dial a 1-800 number. So I dialled it. Half an hour or so later I was put through to India. I fear she had more trouble with my accent than I did with hers and in fifteen minutes it was all sorted. How utterly expected that her first action was to debit my frequent flyer account with the appropriate number of points! That debit happened even before charging my credit card with the minor taxes United won't pick up! (and they are minor - seventy five bucks for a return flight from Melbourne to Phoenix is minor indeed!)
So, on September 21 of this year I have the distinct pleasure of greeting my best mate in a Phoenix Airport and saying 'Welcome to America, you old bastard!'. What's odder is to think I'll be doing that as a US citizen greeting an Australian friend to my new country. If you'd told me, five years ago, that I'd be doing that I'd have said you had rocks in your head!
Of course the poor bastard doesn't get to visit Phoenix without meeting Vern[^] and LaMont[^] and Guy[^]. Everyone has to pay a price! :-)
It fell to Heino to drive me from the last house I lived in at Footscray to the airport to fly off to a different life in the USA. I know how I felt that day, Sunday November 17th 2002. I think I know how he felt; we hugged but, being blokes, not much was said. Not much needed to be said. We've been mates for a third of a century and I certainly hoped that wasn't the last time I saw him.
I've been back to Australia four times since then. It's been my pleasure to stay at his house but it's always been understood that, given how well I know Melbourne, I go to the places I want to revisit pretty much on my own. That said, we always visit whichever computer market is open the first weekend, be it at Camberwell or Collingwood. Heino and his family always make me feel welcome and it's become the long standing joke that Petaluma Pacific Suites (not the real name) are always open to me.
This time around he's coming here to Phoenix! It's taken some orchestrating mainly because, even though the United Airlines Mileage Plus website says that I can book flights for someone other than myself using my points I've found that hard to believe. The website also doesn't make it at all clear, when booking the flight, that it really is for someone else. Indeed, the first time I tried, the site errored out with the complaint that Heino wasn't me. Well gee guys, I know that - why did you think I entered a different passenger name? The site told me that if I did nothing the booking would expire in 48 hours so I waited 72 and tried again.
It failed again but with a different error message and instructions to dial a 1-800 number. So I dialled it. Half an hour or so later I was put through to India. I fear she had more trouble with my accent than I did with hers and in fifteen minutes it was all sorted. How utterly expected that her first action was to debit my frequent flyer account with the appropriate number of points! That debit happened even before charging my credit card with the minor taxes United won't pick up! (and they are minor - seventy five bucks for a return flight from Melbourne to Phoenix is minor indeed!)
So, on September 21 of this year I have the distinct pleasure of greeting my best mate in a Phoenix Airport and saying 'Welcome to America, you old bastard!'. What's odder is to think I'll be doing that as a US citizen greeting an Australian friend to my new country. If you'd told me, five years ago, that I'd be doing that I'd have said you had rocks in your head!
Of course the poor bastard doesn't get to visit Phoenix without meeting Vern[^] and LaMont[^] and Guy[^]. Everyone has to pay a price! :-)
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Twenty five years
to the day since I first visited the US. It was a company training trip courtesy of Hewlett Packard and the training I attended was for the repair and calibration of the HP 8566A[^] spectrum analyser. We used to call it the 'dc to daylight' box because of the incredible frequency range. My god how things change. Back then they were worth half a million bucks each but one of the links I clicked on to search for an image lists one for sale, calibrated, for under six grand!
For a while there I was the only one accredited in the Asia Pacific region to repair them, which accreditation didn't translate into a lot of travel - nope, HP Singapore or HP Taiwan would ship them to Melbourne for repair. Bummer! Indeed, apart from the US training trip, the only travel I got out of it was an overnight trip to Brisbane to replace the front panel metalwork!
I've written a couple of stories about that first trip[^] but I couldn't possibly have imagined that I'd be living here, a US citizen, a quarter of a century later.
I still remember the confusing instructions given by the rental car dude at San Francisco International. To get onto US 101 northbound go out that gate and then turn right, right, right, right and right. It seemed to me that if I followed his instructions the fourth right would bring me back to where I started and indeed it did, but one road over, a road one could not directly access from the rental car yard. Moreover, that fifth right did put me onto US 101 heading north.
I reckon it took about 10 minutes to get used to driving on the wrong side of the road seated on the wrong side of the car. Back in those days one could smoke almost everywhere (even on the flight) and I discovered that one great advantage, for a right hander, of sitting on the left is that the ash tray is where it ought to be. Nah, that's not the reason I ended up moving here!
For a while there I was the only one accredited in the Asia Pacific region to repair them, which accreditation didn't translate into a lot of travel - nope, HP Singapore or HP Taiwan would ship them to Melbourne for repair. Bummer! Indeed, apart from the US training trip, the only travel I got out of it was an overnight trip to Brisbane to replace the front panel metalwork!
I've written a couple of stories about that first trip[^] but I couldn't possibly have imagined that I'd be living here, a US citizen, a quarter of a century later.
I still remember the confusing instructions given by the rental car dude at San Francisco International. To get onto US 101 northbound go out that gate and then turn right, right, right, right and right. It seemed to me that if I followed his instructions the fourth right would bring me back to where I started and indeed it did, but one road over, a road one could not directly access from the rental car yard. Moreover, that fifth right did put me onto US 101 heading north.
I reckon it took about 10 minutes to get used to driving on the wrong side of the road seated on the wrong side of the car. Back in those days one could smoke almost everywhere (even on the flight) and I discovered that one great advantage, for a right hander, of sitting on the left is that the ash tray is where it ought to be. Nah, that's not the reason I ended up moving here!
This is what I get for breaking the habit of a lifetime
If you've ever met me in person you know that I don't dress well. The truth is I don't much care how I look so long as it isn't outlandish by my own standards. Gotta admit my standards are low! I wouldn't know stylish from styleless and, frankly, I don't care.
It wouldn't surprise you then that the shoes I wear are cheap but comfortable. I walk enough that I go through three pairs a year but it's only the wear that dictates the time of replacement. And even then the wear has to be pretty severe! Once I get a comfortable pair they have to be at the point where the heel is worn through before I think it's at all important to replace em. Would it surprise you that I usually own only two pairs of shoes? One new and one very worn pair? I thought not.
When I visited Australia in September 2003 and stayed at Heino's my shoes smelled so bad that Heino's lovely wife wrinkled her nose and ordered me to buy a new pair! One does what one must :-)
It ought not to come as any surprise, given the above, that my purchasing is perfunctory. I need new shoes? I usually buy the first pair I try on. I can't remember the size I used to buy in Australia but here in the US it's ten and a half. Hence my first trying on ten and a halfs about six weeks ago. I usually put both feet on, lace em up and walk around the shop. If they feel ok I buy. These didn't feel quite right so I went down half a size. They felt good for the entire 20 feet walk so I bought the buggers. Notice - the second pair I tried on!
Old shoes back on to front at the cash register. Got home and changed to the new shoes and went for a long walk. They still felt kinda ok.
Now you'll remember that 17 years ago we made a movie. As part of my costume I was wearing riding boots borrowed from my girlfriend. About a size too small. During rehearsal they felt ok but as the day wore on they felt tight. Of course I hadn't thought to bring my normal shoes and by the end of the day my feet were really hurting. We were shooting on the weekends and during the week I could return to my normal shoes. At the end of the second weekend both toenails on my big toes lifted away when I took off my socks. Hurt like hell! Never having experienced childbirth I can't comment on the relative pains but I have been kicked in the balls - the pain usually subsides within a couple of hours.
Let me tell you, the pain you'll feel from the loss of both big toenails goes on and on and on for weeks!
So I've been rather sensitive to the possibility of a repeat experience. Those new shoes hinted at the possibility and I found myself walking back home from that first long walk with my feet arched in order to reduce the pressure on the big toenail.
Well, maybe it was a one off. Wore the new shoes into the office and spent the rest of the day in pain. So that night I went back and bought the next half size up - ten and half.
Ever since then I've been limping around. It hurts enough that I've had to curtail my daily walk. That'll teach me to NOT buy the first pair I try on!
It wouldn't surprise you then that the shoes I wear are cheap but comfortable. I walk enough that I go through three pairs a year but it's only the wear that dictates the time of replacement. And even then the wear has to be pretty severe! Once I get a comfortable pair they have to be at the point where the heel is worn through before I think it's at all important to replace em. Would it surprise you that I usually own only two pairs of shoes? One new and one very worn pair? I thought not.
When I visited Australia in September 2003 and stayed at Heino's my shoes smelled so bad that Heino's lovely wife wrinkled her nose and ordered me to buy a new pair! One does what one must :-)
It ought not to come as any surprise, given the above, that my purchasing is perfunctory. I need new shoes? I usually buy the first pair I try on. I can't remember the size I used to buy in Australia but here in the US it's ten and a half. Hence my first trying on ten and a halfs about six weeks ago. I usually put both feet on, lace em up and walk around the shop. If they feel ok I buy. These didn't feel quite right so I went down half a size. They felt good for the entire 20 feet walk so I bought the buggers. Notice - the second pair I tried on!
Old shoes back on to front at the cash register. Got home and changed to the new shoes and went for a long walk. They still felt kinda ok.
Now you'll remember that 17 years ago we made a movie. As part of my costume I was wearing riding boots borrowed from my girlfriend. About a size too small. During rehearsal they felt ok but as the day wore on they felt tight. Of course I hadn't thought to bring my normal shoes and by the end of the day my feet were really hurting. We were shooting on the weekends and during the week I could return to my normal shoes. At the end of the second weekend both toenails on my big toes lifted away when I took off my socks. Hurt like hell! Never having experienced childbirth I can't comment on the relative pains but I have been kicked in the balls - the pain usually subsides within a couple of hours.
Let me tell you, the pain you'll feel from the loss of both big toenails goes on and on and on for weeks!
So I've been rather sensitive to the possibility of a repeat experience. Those new shoes hinted at the possibility and I found myself walking back home from that first long walk with my feet arched in order to reduce the pressure on the big toenail.
Well, maybe it was a one off. Wore the new shoes into the office and spent the rest of the day in pain. So that night I went back and bought the next half size up - ten and half.
Ever since then I've been limping around. It hurts enough that I've had to curtail my daily walk. That'll teach me to NOT buy the first pair I try on!
Monday, February 19, 2007
I must have misheard that!
You already know I'm rather more fond of wine than is good for me. About half a year ago I decided to change the way I drink it; now it's half and half, half wine, half water. If you've ever tasted Phoenix tap water you already know that's not an option. Nope, bottled drinking water for this little black duck!
Gotta say it was a good idea. I still drink every night and drinking much the same amount of liquid. Which means that I'm drinking half the wine I used to. Actually it's a bit less than that; the ballsy red I used to enjoy now looks distinctly rosé. I've gone from two bottles a night to three nights a bottle! As a result I'm feeling much more like facing the world the next morning. It's hard to describe. I imagine you'd have to have been drinking as much as I was half a year ago to appreciate the difference.
As an aside; a sure sign of a heavy drinker is when they hit the gatorade first thing in the morning! Uh huh. I don't think I've tasted gatorade in half a year, coke about the same length of time. Probably a good thing - they're both foul but not half as foul as Dr Peppers.
We buy those half litre bottles of drinking water by the slab; 24 at a time. I've given up the argument that it's cheaper to buy it by the gallon and manually refill the empties. They (Sonya and Andrew) just won't do it. So I no longer do either. On the other hand, Sonya doesn't always remember to buy a new slab when we're getting low.
I don't usually notice the shortage until it's late in the evening; time to sit down and enjoy a glass and let me tell you, when it's that time I really don't want to jump in the car and head over to Fry's or Basha's to get a slab. So I've taken to hoarding the buggers. I have six and a half bottles sitting on the bookshelf adjacent to the computer as I write this.
Last week as I sat at the computer listening to a string quartet Sonya discovered that Andrew had his own private stash. I could half hear the conversation as it unfolded. Sonya said 'so you're hoarding too?'.
But what I thought I heard was Sonya asking Andrew, her son, 'so you're horny too?'. I fear my incredulous 'what?????' didn't convey even a tenth of the surprise. That question, had it been asked, was wrong on so many levels!
Andrew blushed. Sonya and I laughed.
Gotta say it was a good idea. I still drink every night and drinking much the same amount of liquid. Which means that I'm drinking half the wine I used to. Actually it's a bit less than that; the ballsy red I used to enjoy now looks distinctly rosé. I've gone from two bottles a night to three nights a bottle! As a result I'm feeling much more like facing the world the next morning. It's hard to describe. I imagine you'd have to have been drinking as much as I was half a year ago to appreciate the difference.
As an aside; a sure sign of a heavy drinker is when they hit the gatorade first thing in the morning! Uh huh. I don't think I've tasted gatorade in half a year, coke about the same length of time. Probably a good thing - they're both foul but not half as foul as Dr Peppers.
We buy those half litre bottles of drinking water by the slab; 24 at a time. I've given up the argument that it's cheaper to buy it by the gallon and manually refill the empties. They (Sonya and Andrew) just won't do it. So I no longer do either. On the other hand, Sonya doesn't always remember to buy a new slab when we're getting low.
I don't usually notice the shortage until it's late in the evening; time to sit down and enjoy a glass and let me tell you, when it's that time I really don't want to jump in the car and head over to Fry's or Basha's to get a slab. So I've taken to hoarding the buggers. I have six and a half bottles sitting on the bookshelf adjacent to the computer as I write this.
Last week as I sat at the computer listening to a string quartet Sonya discovered that Andrew had his own private stash. I could half hear the conversation as it unfolded. Sonya said 'so you're hoarding too?'.
But what I thought I heard was Sonya asking Andrew, her son, 'so you're horny too?'. I fear my incredulous 'what?????' didn't convey even a tenth of the surprise. That question, had it been asked, was wrong on so many levels!
Andrew blushed. Sonya and I laughed.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Not dead yet!
Yeah, I've been a slack bastard and let more than a month go by without a post. Thanks for reminding me Iain C :-)
There's been a bunch of stuff happening at the office that I don't feel I can write about. Let's just say that I'm becoming an ambitious bastard. Another way of putting it might be that they're getting to me. But it's still only during working hours and I still don't let them get fifty hours a week for the price of forty. I can be bought but it has to be at a fair price!
Outside of work? Music music and more music! Of late I've discovered the string quartet! Those of you who are members of the CodeProject last.fm group[^] (scroll to find me - it won't be difficult) might have noticed, if you could be bothered checking what I'm listening to, that I've been doing Gavin Bryars[^], Ernest Moeran[^] and Arnold Bax[^] to death. Well I hope not. The latter two are already dead but Gavin's going strong and I'd be delighted to hear his fourth, fifth and sixth string quartets!
How curious that I'm listening to Aqua as I write this!
Speaking of last.fm. Interesting concept but it's rather weighted against musical snobs such as myself. The problem is that they count tracks regardless of the length. If I listen to a three minute aqua song it gets the same weighting as a fifty four minute symphony by Martin Scherber (sorry, the only link I can find is in German outside of the online shops flogging his third symphony). Just watch my stats get skewed by tonights enjoyment of some mindless pap!
There's been a bunch of stuff happening at the office that I don't feel I can write about. Let's just say that I'm becoming an ambitious bastard. Another way of putting it might be that they're getting to me. But it's still only during working hours and I still don't let them get fifty hours a week for the price of forty. I can be bought but it has to be at a fair price!
Outside of work? Music music and more music! Of late I've discovered the string quartet! Those of you who are members of the CodeProject last.fm group[^] (scroll to find me - it won't be difficult) might have noticed, if you could be bothered checking what I'm listening to, that I've been doing Gavin Bryars[^], Ernest Moeran[^] and Arnold Bax[^] to death. Well I hope not. The latter two are already dead but Gavin's going strong and I'd be delighted to hear his fourth, fifth and sixth string quartets!
How curious that I'm listening to Aqua as I write this!
Speaking of last.fm. Interesting concept but it's rather weighted against musical snobs such as myself. The problem is that they count tracks regardless of the length. If I listen to a three minute aqua song it gets the same weighting as a fifty four minute symphony by Martin Scherber (sorry, the only link I can find is in German outside of the online shops flogging his third symphony). Just watch my stats get skewed by tonights enjoyment of some mindless pap!
Monday, January 08, 2007
The trouble with dead Presidents
is that they choose the most inconvenient times to die.
According to Andrew that is! Case in point. Former President Gerald Ford died the day after Christmas. And Andrew was indeed saddened by the news, when the realisation sank in that he was already in his Christmas break and would not get an extra day off school! From Andrews point of view it would have been far better had he died either two weeks earlier or two weeks later. I'm pretty sure considerations of how the former President himself might have felt about the matter didn't occur to Andrew. And I fear I made him feel worse when I pointed out that Former President Reagan had also died during a school break.
As Andrew himself expressed it; 'Why do I get all the bad luck?'
A few months ago, when my citizenship oath ceremony was fast approaching, Mom broached the idea of taking Andrew along, on the grounds that it would be 'educational'. I was all for the idea but Andrews only comment was 'cool - that'll be a day off school'. Call me hard hearted if you will but if the only reason he wanted to come along and see me take the oath was to get a day off school then as far as I was concerned he could damn well go to school instead! Which he did!
Poor bastard!
According to Andrew that is! Case in point. Former President Gerald Ford died the day after Christmas. And Andrew was indeed saddened by the news, when the realisation sank in that he was already in his Christmas break and would not get an extra day off school! From Andrews point of view it would have been far better had he died either two weeks earlier or two weeks later. I'm pretty sure considerations of how the former President himself might have felt about the matter didn't occur to Andrew. And I fear I made him feel worse when I pointed out that Former President Reagan had also died during a school break.
As Andrew himself expressed it; 'Why do I get all the bad luck?'
A few months ago, when my citizenship oath ceremony was fast approaching, Mom broached the idea of taking Andrew along, on the grounds that it would be 'educational'. I was all for the idea but Andrews only comment was 'cool - that'll be a day off school'. Call me hard hearted if you will but if the only reason he wanted to come along and see me take the oath was to get a day off school then as far as I was concerned he could damn well go to school instead! Which he did!
Poor bastard!
Sunday, December 03, 2006
The cheap bastards pile
My US passport finally arrived last week. As you know I wasn't in that much of a hurry for it to arrive; I was quite content to be unable to do international travel and now that we're getting close to *that* time of the year (the only use I have for Christmas) it's unlikely I'll have to travel for at least another month. That said, it was in December 2004 that I was sent on less than a days notice to France. France I wouldn't mind - I'm just not in any hurry to go back to The Philippines.
The passport arrived on November 27th but curiously it was dated October 30th. Hmmm, so they made it and then took nearly a month to ship it out? Seems so.
Of course I have my theory. I didn't pay the expedite fee so, having made it, they tossed it into the cheap bastards pile, in the bin marked, do not ship until November 24th!
The passport arrived on November 27th but curiously it was dated October 30th. Hmmm, so they made it and then took nearly a month to ship it out? Seems so.
Of course I have my theory. I didn't pay the expedite fee so, having made it, they tossed it into the cheap bastards pile, in the bin marked, do not ship until November 24th!
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Burgers
I've made no secret in the past of my distaste for the American manifestation of the humble hamburger. It may, once upon a time, have been edible, but I fear the relentless spur of competition to put more and more into or onto it has gone way past the point where wisdom should have prevailed. In short, I can't stand the bugrgers!
Americans of course don't understand just why it is that I find the things so unpalatable; within minutes of discovering how much I did *not* want to eat one nothing would do but that my wife had to take me to In-N-Out[^]. I can imagine her disappointment when their burgers turned out to be just as unpalatable. She hasn't said it in so many words but I'm sure she thinks I'm impossible to please when it comes to fast food. She's right! :-)
It seems that when the local In-N-Out opened the police were required for traffic duty in the surrounding streets for some days. I take this as evidence of appalling burger taste in the populace! :-)
Anyway, the fact is that I find the American burger has way too much meat, the meat isbarelyundercooked and their idea of a burger with onions is to bung raw onions on the side! Toss in the inevitable pallid mustard, barbecue sauce, ketchup or, heaven forbid, ranch sauce, and you've got a mess!
The other night at dinner the subject of burgers came up again and, again, I said something about how much I didn't like the local version. Andrew piped up with an enthusiastic endorsement of In-N-Out, concluding with the statement 'I like In-N-Out'. Now what could I do? It was there, like low hanging fruit, demanding to be said! So I said it. 'Yeah, I'm rather fond of In-N-Out myself - but I ain't talking burgers!'.
*Boom boom*
Andrew blushed and choked back laughter. Mom? She reached over the table and clocked me one! Can't blame her. :-)
Americans of course don't understand just why it is that I find the things so unpalatable; within minutes of discovering how much I did *not* want to eat one nothing would do but that my wife had to take me to In-N-Out[^]. I can imagine her disappointment when their burgers turned out to be just as unpalatable. She hasn't said it in so many words but I'm sure she thinks I'm impossible to please when it comes to fast food. She's right! :-)
It seems that when the local In-N-Out opened the police were required for traffic duty in the surrounding streets for some days. I take this as evidence of appalling burger taste in the populace! :-)
Anyway, the fact is that I find the American burger has way too much meat, the meat is
The other night at dinner the subject of burgers came up again and, again, I said something about how much I didn't like the local version. Andrew piped up with an enthusiastic endorsement of In-N-Out, concluding with the statement 'I like In-N-Out'. Now what could I do? It was there, like low hanging fruit, demanding to be said! So I said it. 'Yeah, I'm rather fond of In-N-Out myself - but I ain't talking burgers!'.
*Boom boom*
Andrew blushed and choked back laughter. Mom? She reached over the table and clocked me one! Can't blame her. :-)
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Gotcha!
As you might remember[^] my wife has been researching her ancestors for some time. Lately she's discovered that some great grandfather or other once ran a pie shop in an English town by the name of Nuneaton[^]. Me being me it was, of course, impossible to resist remarking that they couldn't have been very good pies. 'Why do you say that?' she asked. 'Well they were Nuneaton of course!' was my reply.
*boom boom*
A little later in the conversation Sonya dropped the fact that the pie shop was next door to the residence of one Mary Anne Evans. I shrugged. 'Who, pray tell, is Mary Anne Evans when she's at home?' I asked. I do sometimes talk pretentiously like that! 'Aha' she said, going for the jugular. 'So you don't know that Mary Anne Evans was George Eliot?'
Uh huh. A gotcha indeed! It was indeed feeble of me to riposte by asking if she knew who Ellen Price[^] was. But geeze, am I supposed to remember the real name of every 19th century English novelist? Don't answer that! :-)
*boom boom*
A little later in the conversation Sonya dropped the fact that the pie shop was next door to the residence of one Mary Anne Evans. I shrugged. 'Who, pray tell, is Mary Anne Evans when she's at home?' I asked. I do sometimes talk pretentiously like that! 'Aha' she said, going for the jugular. 'So you don't know that Mary Anne Evans was George Eliot?'
Uh huh. A gotcha indeed! It was indeed feeble of me to riposte by asking if she knew who Ellen Price[^] was. But geeze, am I supposed to remember the real name of every 19th century English novelist? Don't answer that! :-)
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Heard on the radio today
There's some golf tournament or another about to take place down in Tucson. Personally I've always thought that if you really really wanted so badly to get that ball into the little hole surely bashing it with a funny shaped stick is going about it the hard way. Why not just pick the ball up and put it in the hole? But that's me. *shrug*
As I was driving home tonight an ad came on for the golf tournament aforementioned. The usual extolling of virtues followed by the breathless announcement that they were restricting ticket sales to a (and I quote) relatively intimate 15,000 per day.
Yikes! Relatively intimate? Imagine being invited to the copy writers for a dinner party!
As I was driving home tonight an ad came on for the golf tournament aforementioned. The usual extolling of virtues followed by the breathless announcement that they were restricting ticket sales to a (and I quote) relatively intimate 15,000 per day.
Yikes! Relatively intimate? Imagine being invited to the copy writers for a dinner party!
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Intelligence test
I was standing in the self checkout line at the local supermarket, chocolate cake in one hand, paper towels in the other. The two purchases aren't necessarily related!
Before me the usual rag tag assortment of people who can't cope with the self checkout process. Why they subject themselves and, more importantly, me, to the experience is something I couldn't say but I *have* seen some of the same folk struggling with the concept before.
But heck, this ain't rocket science. What's so hard about reading a three word instruction then pushing the correct button? Followed by swiping things through one at a time and putting them on the scales?
I will admit that the supermarket checkout *does* throw a spanner in the works by expecting some kind of personal identifier, either a loyalty card or a phone number. I refuse to play that game except to the extent of getting the 'discounted' price attached to the identifier. I find that punching in a random phone number works just fine and doubtless there are people who will, next week, sit down to their thanksgiving turkey with not the faintest inkling that my purchases helped them accumulate the loyalty points required to snag a free one!
So anyway, I was standing in the line half an hour ago watching yet another assortment of people trying to cope with a process simple enough that I reckon a particularly dull chimp could master it within seconds when it occurred to me that they really need an intelligence test to gain access to the shorter line. And then it occurred to me that in fact the entire process itself *was* the intelligence test; all that is lacking is the reward or revenge at the end of the process.
What I think is needed is a system reminiscent of the system at customs and immigration; the machine weighs the subject by a variety of criteria; how many times did they have to request a restart because they pushed the wrong button? How many seconds elapsed between scanning one item and the next? At the end they get a tag to follow the green arrow or the red one.
Green leads to the car park. And red leads to a small padded room with an automatic lead dispenser! Some people are just *too* stupid to live!!!
Before me the usual rag tag assortment of people who can't cope with the self checkout process. Why they subject themselves and, more importantly, me, to the experience is something I couldn't say but I *have* seen some of the same folk struggling with the concept before.
But heck, this ain't rocket science. What's so hard about reading a three word instruction then pushing the correct button? Followed by swiping things through one at a time and putting them on the scales?
I will admit that the supermarket checkout *does* throw a spanner in the works by expecting some kind of personal identifier, either a loyalty card or a phone number. I refuse to play that game except to the extent of getting the 'discounted' price attached to the identifier. I find that punching in a random phone number works just fine and doubtless there are people who will, next week, sit down to their thanksgiving turkey with not the faintest inkling that my purchases helped them accumulate the loyalty points required to snag a free one!
So anyway, I was standing in the line half an hour ago watching yet another assortment of people trying to cope with a process simple enough that I reckon a particularly dull chimp could master it within seconds when it occurred to me that they really need an intelligence test to gain access to the shorter line. And then it occurred to me that in fact the entire process itself *was* the intelligence test; all that is lacking is the reward or revenge at the end of the process.
What I think is needed is a system reminiscent of the system at customs and immigration; the machine weighs the subject by a variety of criteria; how many times did they have to request a restart because they pushed the wrong button? How many seconds elapsed between scanning one item and the next? At the end they get a tag to follow the green arrow or the red one.
Green leads to the car park. And red leads to a small padded room with an automatic lead dispenser! Some people are just *too* stupid to live!!!
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
I voted today
Well actually it was yesterday but who's counting? Apart, that is, from a thousand harried election officials being hounded by anxious almost made its?
Australia is the only other country where I've voted and attendance there at a polling booth on the day is mandatory on pain of a 50 buck fine. That being the case there's nothing all that remarkable about having actually voted in Australia; one assumes that everyone has.
Not so here in the US. With a voter turnout of only 40% it's a toss up whether someone has bothered or not. So, at least here in Arizona (I can't speak for anywhere else in the country) they hand you a little sticker saying 'I voted today'. It nonplussed me for a moment but then I stuck it on my forehead and wore it all day at the office.
Laughs all round! Well, what did they expect when I became a citizen? That I'd not bother voting?
An interesting exercise. A combination of the familiar with an interleaving of the utterly strange! No surprise seeing candidates for House and Senate. Not even much of a surprise seeing candidates for Governor (a rather different office here than in Australia). But further down candidates for School Board? Approval for the continuation of judgeships? What a disappointment there was no candidate for The Office of Dog Catcher!
Ok, I'm being a little facetious. I'm just not used to the voting process being quite so granular. I'm sure familiarity will breed complacence.
Fortunately the ballots here are real paper and you mark your choice using a pen. No risk of illegitimate chads a few months hence. No touch screen computers either. I still have my suspicions about the machine one feeds ones ballot into which apparently counts it on the spot. Call me old fashioned but I really don't like the idea of computerising something as important as voting. I'd be a whole lot happier if they were counted by hand with a bunch of rival scrutineers agreeing that this ballot really was for so and so.
But I reserve the real shocker for last. It came as quite the surprise a couple of weeks ago when my wife received her sample ballot to see that it had a map printed on the front pointing the way to the polling place. 'Yes, that's right', she said, when I asked, 'you can only vote there.' I was incredulous. 'You mean that I can only vote there and nowhere else? That's the only place on the whole planet where I can vote?' Apparently it's so.
Hmmm. Much to get used to! I'm sure I'll cope.
Australia is the only other country where I've voted and attendance there at a polling booth on the day is mandatory on pain of a 50 buck fine. That being the case there's nothing all that remarkable about having actually voted in Australia; one assumes that everyone has.
Not so here in the US. With a voter turnout of only 40% it's a toss up whether someone has bothered or not. So, at least here in Arizona (I can't speak for anywhere else in the country) they hand you a little sticker saying 'I voted today'. It nonplussed me for a moment but then I stuck it on my forehead and wore it all day at the office.
Laughs all round! Well, what did they expect when I became a citizen? That I'd not bother voting?
An interesting exercise. A combination of the familiar with an interleaving of the utterly strange! No surprise seeing candidates for House and Senate. Not even much of a surprise seeing candidates for Governor (a rather different office here than in Australia). But further down candidates for School Board? Approval for the continuation of judgeships? What a disappointment there was no candidate for The Office of Dog Catcher!
Ok, I'm being a little facetious. I'm just not used to the voting process being quite so granular. I'm sure familiarity will breed complacence.
Fortunately the ballots here are real paper and you mark your choice using a pen. No risk of illegitimate chads a few months hence. No touch screen computers either. I still have my suspicions about the machine one feeds ones ballot into which apparently counts it on the spot. Call me old fashioned but I really don't like the idea of computerising something as important as voting. I'd be a whole lot happier if they were counted by hand with a bunch of rival scrutineers agreeing that this ballot really was for so and so.
But I reserve the real shocker for last. It came as quite the surprise a couple of weeks ago when my wife received her sample ballot to see that it had a map printed on the front pointing the way to the polling place. 'Yes, that's right', she said, when I asked, 'you can only vote there.' I was incredulous. 'You mean that I can only vote there and nowhere else? That's the only place on the whole planet where I can vote?' Apparently it's so.
Hmmm. Much to get used to! I'm sure I'll cope.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Sonya's Europe trip
Like, I imagine, a lot of people, we have a change jar. Few things are worse than clanking around the house like some rusty old ghost so we've both got into the habit of emptying the loose shrapnel out of our pockets as soon as we get home.
On the other hand I've become quite fond of snacking on Cheetos at the office so I'm putting change in the jar with one hand and taking it out with the other. It's become quite the ritual when I get home to peer into the jar and say 'oooh' if I spy silver. Sonya's said more than twice that she'll never get to Europe at this rate; as often as she piles the odd dollar of silver into the jar I nick it for snacking.
I can't help noticing this week that the jar is stubbornly bereft of silver. I think she's taking that Europe trip to heart!
On the other hand I've become quite fond of snacking on Cheetos at the office so I'm putting change in the jar with one hand and taking it out with the other. It's become quite the ritual when I get home to peer into the jar and say 'oooh' if I spy silver. Sonya's said more than twice that she'll never get to Europe at this rate; as often as she piles the odd dollar of silver into the jar I nick it for snacking.
I can't help noticing this week that the jar is stubbornly bereft of silver. I think she's taking that Europe trip to heart!
Monday, November 06, 2006
What I wanted for Christmas
Many years ago my parents asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I thought for a moment and replied 'I wanna watch'. So they let me!
*boom boom*
Yeah, an old joke. I must have been telling it at (in)appropriate moments for at least thirty years so it should come as no surprise whatsoever that when, the other night, we were talking about Christmas over dinner, I trotted it out. Andrew mulled it a moment and then let out a half embarassed laugh along with a sheepish grin. Sonya, however, looked at me and said, in a voice of incredulity, 'Really???'.
*boom boom*
Yeah, an old joke. I must have been telling it at (in)appropriate moments for at least thirty years so it should come as no surprise whatsoever that when, the other night, we were talking about Christmas over dinner, I trotted it out. Andrew mulled it a moment and then let out a half embarassed laugh along with a sheepish grin. Sonya, however, looked at me and said, in a voice of incredulity, 'Really???'.
Kicking the tyres
We went house hunting today. To be honest, we're not sure we can afford to be in the housing market just yet but you've got to at least throw some numbers around. It seems that it's rather easier to do it here in the US than it was back in Australia; the last time I refinanced my house there they did the arithmetic, concluded that as I had a mere 19 years until legal retirement age that they couldn't manage a mortgage (in blocks of 5 years) longer than 15 years. Seems it's against some law or other here to discriminate on the basis of age. Score one for the US!
And we're both sick of living in a two up, two down and two in the middle condo. I can't fart without everyone in the place knowing about it! I swore black and blue about twenty years ago (when I last lived in a flat, apartment, condo, call it what you will) that I'd never live in one again. Houses only for this little black duck. And now look at me!
Toss in the fact that until a couple of months ago I was required to mail an AR11 change of address form to an obscure address in London, Kentucky, if my permanent address changed, which requirement has now gone away and we have no good reasons not to go looking! Not, I hasten to add, that the US is crawling with secret police checking on the whereabouts of every alien, legal or not. Nonetheless, there's always the nagging doubt that some important piece of immigrant related mail will fail to arrive if I dare to move residence and suddenly I'll find myself out of status. No such doubt any more. Being a citizen has its advantages!
So we set off house hunting. Pretty easy to do - the buggers just sit there on their blocks of land! *boom boom*. Sonya wants to stay within the Horizon High School district though I have to say that given the quality of output that I've seen they don't overmuch impress me. But what do I know?
Thus to a funnish afternoon of driving aimlessly around looking for little signs stuck on street corners pointing toward an 'open house'.
It's all done very differently to the way I was used to in Melbourne. There every house for sale is open each weekend until sold but you only have a half hour window when it's open. Thus the need for planning. Grab the Weekend Age property guide, turn to the suburb of interest and map out four hours of driving. Gotta get to that address by 1:15 because the agent moves on to the next house at 1:30.
Not so here. The agent arrives, opens, and sits for four hours. And then, apparently, that house won't be available for casual inspection for another month! *shrug* That's the way they do things here so one goes with the flow.
We went through this exercise just after I arrived here four years ago and I got into the habit of pointing out that the master bathroom was larger than my bedroom back in Melbourne. Not much of an exaggeration. Of course, first house we went into I *just* had to say that! Laugh from Sonya. I can still make her laugh! :-)
But there was one house we looked at (way out of our price range) where the master bedroom really was larger than our entire condo. The bed looked like an afterthought in that sea of carpet!
We did find a couple of houses we liked so I imagine it's time to talk to the lenders. Of course, the way Sonya said that word I thought she said 'time to talk to the Linda's' and I found myself wondering why on earth we had to talk to a Linda I hadn't met and just exactly what she had to do with what we could or could not afford!
And we're both sick of living in a two up, two down and two in the middle condo. I can't fart without everyone in the place knowing about it! I swore black and blue about twenty years ago (when I last lived in a flat, apartment, condo, call it what you will) that I'd never live in one again. Houses only for this little black duck. And now look at me!
Toss in the fact that until a couple of months ago I was required to mail an AR11 change of address form to an obscure address in London, Kentucky, if my permanent address changed, which requirement has now gone away and we have no good reasons not to go looking! Not, I hasten to add, that the US is crawling with secret police checking on the whereabouts of every alien, legal or not. Nonetheless, there's always the nagging doubt that some important piece of immigrant related mail will fail to arrive if I dare to move residence and suddenly I'll find myself out of status. No such doubt any more. Being a citizen has its advantages!
So we set off house hunting. Pretty easy to do - the buggers just sit there on their blocks of land! *boom boom*. Sonya wants to stay within the Horizon High School district though I have to say that given the quality of output that I've seen they don't overmuch impress me. But what do I know?
Thus to a funnish afternoon of driving aimlessly around looking for little signs stuck on street corners pointing toward an 'open house'.
It's all done very differently to the way I was used to in Melbourne. There every house for sale is open each weekend until sold but you only have a half hour window when it's open. Thus the need for planning. Grab the Weekend Age property guide, turn to the suburb of interest and map out four hours of driving. Gotta get to that address by 1:15 because the agent moves on to the next house at 1:30.
Not so here. The agent arrives, opens, and sits for four hours. And then, apparently, that house won't be available for casual inspection for another month! *shrug* That's the way they do things here so one goes with the flow.
We went through this exercise just after I arrived here four years ago and I got into the habit of pointing out that the master bathroom was larger than my bedroom back in Melbourne. Not much of an exaggeration. Of course, first house we went into I *just* had to say that! Laugh from Sonya. I can still make her laugh! :-)
But there was one house we looked at (way out of our price range) where the master bedroom really was larger than our entire condo. The bed looked like an afterthought in that sea of carpet!
We did find a couple of houses we liked so I imagine it's time to talk to the lenders. Of course, the way Sonya said that word I thought she said 'time to talk to the Linda's' and I found myself wondering why on earth we had to talk to a Linda I hadn't met and just exactly what she had to do with what we could or could not afford!
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Monday, October 23, 2006
White Menudo
My wife finally managed to find a canned foodstuff I didn't recognise. When I got home this arvo I found a rather large can labelled 'White Menudo'. I took a look at it and called for enlightenment. With a shrug she admitted she didn't know what it was either but was planning to use it for tonights dinner. Hmmm... there's brave for you!
It seems, according to the ingredients list, that it contains beef tripe and Mexican style hominy. Sounds mouthwatering doesn't it? I gloated a little, within Andrews hearing, about the beef tripe and discovered that, even though he has no idea what beef tripe *is*, he doesn't want to try it. If I said that announcement came as a surprise I'd be lying! I wonder what hoops they had to jump through to get him to try his first burger!
It seems, according to the ingredients list, that it contains beef tripe and Mexican style hominy. Sounds mouthwatering doesn't it? I gloated a little, within Andrews hearing, about the beef tripe and discovered that, even though he has no idea what beef tripe *is*, he doesn't want to try it. If I said that announcement came as a surprise I'd be lying! I wonder what hoops they had to jump through to get him to try his first burger!
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Four Hours
They've been running an ad on The History Channel for the last hour or so. Normally I mentally tune out as soon as the ad breaks start but after a while I started noticing this one. It begins as a discussion of erectile dysfunction; just the subject matter one wants to hear at my age!
Then it goes on to extol the virtues of a particular drug and, as is the fashion these days, ends on a breathless list of all the possible side-effects. There's one that particularly impressed me. 'Seek immediate medical attention if an erection lasts for more than four hours!'. Four hours?? Wow! I should be so lucky!!! :-)
Then it goes on to extol the virtues of a particular drug and, as is the fashion these days, ends on a breathless list of all the possible side-effects. There's one that particularly impressed me. 'Seek immediate medical attention if an erection lasts for more than four hours!'. Four hours?? Wow! I should be so lucky!!! :-)
Sunday, October 15, 2006
It takes a bit of getting used to...
this being an American thing!
My friend Vern[^], after a gap of more than a week, finally made a new post and I tried to make a witty reply. (Along the lines of, we waited a week for this??? :-) ).
But his blog software steadfastly refuses to accept my reply, branding it, quite incorrectly, as spam! Like I'd be guilty of such a thing?
So I dashed off an email to his direct email address. In it I said something to the effect that 'this was a fine way to treat a fellow citizen'.
See? I'm still not thinking right! What I should have said was 'this is a fine way to treat a fellow 'muuurrrican!'. :-)
My friend Vern[^], after a gap of more than a week, finally made a new post and I tried to make a witty reply. (Along the lines of, we waited a week for this??? :-) ).
But his blog software steadfastly refuses to accept my reply, branding it, quite incorrectly, as spam! Like I'd be guilty of such a thing?
So I dashed off an email to his direct email address. In it I said something to the effect that 'this was a fine way to treat a fellow citizen'.
See? I'm still not thinking right! What I should have said was 'this is a fine way to treat a fellow 'muuurrrican!'. :-)
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