If you decide to send your female co-worker the message "Shut your pie hole," translated into French via Google Translate, make sure you pass along the translation link, before she translates the phrase back with Babelfish and promptly sues you for sexual harassment.

A note to anyone playing Fallout 3:
If you've installed the Broken Steel add-on before attempting the Finding the Garden of Eden main story-line quest, there's going to be a section of the quest where you're walking through Vault 87 (I'm pretty sure it's the Lab section--it might be the Crew's Quarters, though). You're going to come across a two-story room (like in every other Vault) that'll be the second door on your left after going up a set of stairs. Once you enter, two Super Mutant Overlords will come out and blast the bejebus out of you.

This is a pre-programmed encounter that I'm guessing was with Super Mutant Masters before I decided to pay money to up my character's level cap from 20 to 30. As soon as you step into that room, the encounter activates.

So here's a hint:
Backtrack to the stairs, and go into the first room on your left. Walk across that large room, and exit through the door on the other end. After taking care of all the other Super Mutants around, enter that same room from the other side (where the Overlords would be coming from). The encounter will activate, but this time, with the original Super Mutant Masters without Tri-beam Laser Rifles. Much easier to deal with.

I hope my seventeen hours of gameplay yesterday (note: not all at that part of the game) helps you out.

I work.

I go to my job in the morning, and I get on the computer. While I sign on to all my various communication services, I do not closely monitor them all the time.

Where am I going with this?

1. If you ask me what's going on, I'm going to tell you that I'm working. This is not an invitation to tell me everything that's going on with your day, your weekend, your life. While I am genuinely interested in what you would like to tell me, the middle of the workday is not necessarily the appropriate time, as it's more than likely that I'm either in the middle of creating code for my job or speaking with my co-workers about creating code for my job.
2. If we have a conversation, and I stop responding for an extended period of time, there is a high probability that I have been distracted with work-related subjects. This is in no way out of any disinterest to communicate with you. It is work.
3. If I don't answer you immediately after you message me, it's more than likely because I'm doing something work-related (such as creating code or having a meeting). If you're interested in talking to me, please don't just message me and then log off. That is akin to calling someone, hearing them pick up, saying something, and then hanging up.
4. I have this nasty tendency to leave myself logged in to my messaging clients around the clock. If you message me and I do not respond at all, it's likely because it's after hours. Send me a note on Twitter or Facebook, and I'll more than likely get back to you in a more timely fashion than if you wait for me to see your instant message when I come back to my computer at work.

If you have a MicroSD card, and you volunteer its use to someone who wants to get a file off of a Samsung Helio phone, be aware that you might lose the 1.5 Gigabytes of MP3s, photos, and customized ringtones that you've built up when in an unknown series of steps, the phone reformats your SD card.

Just so you know.

or "Why You Shouldn't Be an Asshole to People You Don't Know."

( On Saturday morning... (long) )

If you want a truly original Halloween costume, do the following:

• Dress up in Sarah Palin clothes.
• Put on Joker makeup.
• Talk in a high-pitched, gravelly-voiced Alaskan-nee-Midwestern accent.
• When people ask you who you're supposed to be, answer "I'm 2008's two most over-done Halloween costumes."

People who are sick at home with the flu should not leave sandals in the dark spaces between the bedroom and the bathroom if they don't want to trip onto ceramic tiles.

Taking my previous post as instruction, I compiled ( a list of 75 things I'd like to do before I die... )

From the various Myers-Briggs tests that I've taken both online and in the meatspace, I've come to know myself as an INFP (although from time to time, I'll migrate to INTP when I'm especially analytic on a given subject). In this article, I found the following passages:

The fourth type of introvert in the smallest minority group is the INFP, the Healer. Healers make up just 1% of men and 2% of women on the planet.

And further down...

Don’t try to change [your introvert] into an extrovert. This is the ultimate stressor. It can lead to long term loss of Spirit, low self esteem, depression and health conditions associated with long term stress. Some of the signs to watch for have been indicated for each type: excessive eating, drinking or exercise, compulsive self criticism and perfectionism, feeling “unreal” or “lost” in time and space, disassociating from the body, speechless paralysis and cries for help such as “get away” or “leave me alone”.

This sentiment is echoed throughout many of the articles found under when trolling del.icio.us for links about introverts/introversion--introverts are the way they are, do not try to change them into extroverts, leave them alone.

Now granted, this article specifically targets parents of introverted children, and while I can respect the intent, the fact remains that as someone who is deeply introverted, I must live, work, and love in the extroverts' world, and excessive amounts of "leave me alone" has left me ill-prepared to operate in certain relationships which require more extroversion of me.

[Note: which is not to say that parents, friends, and significant others should attempt to extrovert their introverts at will. The eagerness extroverts throw into their social interactions (especially when, speaking from experience, they're trying to pull an introvert out of their solitude) is at times too much.]

Unless I'm willing to accept the notion that introverts should only have relationships with other introverts, I must reject the advice that introverts should not have some acclimatization to the needs of an exceedingly social society.

If, reading this as an extrovert, you find yourself thinking of an introvert that could be more social, remember--moderation is the key. In my case, I tend to feel more comfortable with either a smaller gathering for an extended period of time or a shorter get-together with a larger group of people. As I've gotten to know more people well, the social stress that results from my introversion falls.

Please stop fucking with my browser window dimensions.

That is all.
-thepeopleseason

Stop using that Snap.com preview crap. It's ugly, it wastes bandwidth, it interrupts the regular flow of reading, and when you say "disable for all sites" it doesn't really do so.

Quit it.
-thepeopleseason

Your recent announcement of unlimited storage for all mailboxes does not make the use of your system any more appealing if you cannot recognize that messages with the subjects "Mortgage Approva1" or "Grow Your Pen1s" or addressed to five or more people with usernames which are identical up to the first four characters are not valid messages to me.

As I have repeatedly reported these messages as spam to you, your failure to block them from my inbox leads me to believe that your spam catching system was programmed by either the proverbial million monkeys or the most-recently-deceased General Mbuna Fish whose widow is trying to unload several billion dollars into my bank account.

To conclude: your spamfilter eats ass. Fix it.

Yeah. I've been away for a while. Not a whole lot going on, other than work, work, more work, and living in happiness with the Pink Gator. There was the conversation that I had with batnandu about how the inclusion of Optimus Prime would make any movie better, but since that was in the meatspace, I wasn't really able to blog it with any sort of accuracy.

So here follows my rundown of last year's resolutions and how I did with them:

• Practice Tai Chi more (Don't disappoint the Si-Gong/make the Si-Fu lose face).
  Failed. With batnandu's impending wedding, our regular Tai Chi training fell by the wayside.


• Go Rock Climbing more (I've got a paid membership at the gym...).
  Failed. I managed to hit the gym once or twice, but not with any regularity. I no longer have the paid membership at the gym, however.


• Minimize intake of french fries and potato chips.
  Moderate success.


• batnandu asked me to add "Increase intake of fruits and vegetables (lettuce doesn't count)" What are you, my mom??!?
  Success. I managed to eat a lot of apples, oranges and bananas last year, and am now, with the exception of mushrooms (poison!) and cilantro, pretty much eating everything I avoided eating as a child.


• Minimize intake of soda.
  Dismal failure. With my office going Free Soda, I managed to drink more soda in one week than I likely drank in all of 2005. Don't ask me which week, however.


• Start running (or some other aerobic activity) and increase my cardiovascular endurance.
  Moderate failure. I did manage to get some running in on the treadmill at my place, but that fell by the wayside when I started seeing the PinkGator. I do, however, walk about eight blocks a day on my way to commute via Georgia Tech's Trolley.


• Keep my place clean.
  Dismal Failure. I realized today, that what I call "cleaning" most other people would call "moving stacks around."


• Floss.
  Success.

So for the next year, I resolve:

• Practice Tai Chi more
• Cook more
• Stop getting those disposable plastic bags at the supermarket (bring a reusable cloth bag) and the comic book store (bring a box of some sort).
• Minimize my intake of soda
• Keep my place clean
• Sell crap I don't need/use

Hopefully, I'll be more successful at these.

While you might not care about the Northern spotted owl, the sudden upswing in polar bear drownings, or a mystical flower in the mountains of China which only blooms once every twenty years (yeah, that last one's fictional), you should be aware that your penchant for rampant pollution is shrinking your nads (and may turn your sons and your sons' sons into chicks with dicks).

Not to mention the sharks which can walk on their fins...

When someone in atlanta asks for a place to get bubble tea in Midtown, suggesting the gigantic megamart off of Pleasant Hill Road in Duluth is quite helpful in the sense that it is not.

Dear Ladies:

If you've managed to find yourself in a situation where some male has introduced that inevitably-awkward admission of unrequited love for you, please take heed of the following advice:

If you value the man as a friend, do not, under any circumstances, attempt to save his feelings by telling him "I love you as a friend" or something to similar effect. This will in no way deter his feelings for you--it will merely serve as a signal to him that now is perhaps not the best time to pursue you.

You see, whenever a woman expresses a lack of interest in a relationship, her intended meaning (with few exceptions) is, "At no point in the future will I ever consider you someone I would like to date." The man's actual implication translates to "Sorry, I might want to sleep with you later, but getting into a relationship with you right now is simply not the most convenient time for me."

So when women deny us and attempt to soften the blow with words to stroke our egos, we believe their implication is the same as ours--"I reserve the right to change my mind and have sex with you."

We are, as prevalent pop culture is so fond of indicating to all of you, selfish, infantile pigs.

And your intention not to hurt us will keep us hanging onto your skirts like petulant children.

So what do you say to someone who's just expressed their undying devotion to you? From personal experience, "I'm sorry," works pretty well. "I don't find you at all attractive," would probably do, perhaps with the additional clarification, "What I mean by that is that I will never, ever, under any circumstances, have sex with you." While such statements might be overly cruel, they're far more direct and without pretense than "You're attractive, but I just don't think of you in that way."

Here endeth the lesson.

ETA: I've had enough people question me on why I wrote this--I have a close friend who responded to an admission of undying affection inappropriately. I thought I'd pass on the advice that I gave to her. Everything is going swimmingly with Pinky and me.

Please let me know your thoughts on the following items I am considering:

1. Shaving my head.
2. Getting a tattoo of the cover of The Tao of Pooh where the kite is on my right shoulder and Pooh is on my shoulder blade.
3. Growing my hair out.
4. Going on a road trip to Graceland.
5. Buying a bicycle to ride to work from Juniper St. to North Ave. during what appears to be a slightly hectic rush hour.
6. Going on a road trip to Louisiana.

I may take your advice. I may not. I may not do anything on this list.

ETA: Why the fuck am I sitting here playing guitar for hours on end rather than catching up on TiVo?

The activities of rock climbing and ice climbing carry a significant risk of personal injury or death! It is the responsibility of each and every individual who chooses to participate in the activities of rock climbing and ice climbing to be professionally trained, and be familiar with the dangers and risks associated with such activities...Each and every individual who chooses to participate in the activities of rock climbing, or ice climbing is personally assuming all the risks of injury or death which may result from such activities!

--From a safety disclaimer page of a rock climbing gym.

Given my lack of sleeping ability over the past few weeks, I am drugging myself tonight to get some much needed rest. To anyone choosing to call me prior to 10:00 AM tomorrow, grievous bodily harm may result.

Tylenol PM which expired a while ago will do nothing to help you get a full night's rest, unless your intention is to wake up at your usual 6:00 AM with an additional stop at 4:00 AM, along with the requisite Harry Potter-esque dreams, where you've gone into hiding in your old Miami neighborhood with a female Minister of Magic.

Yeah, I don't get it either.

But I discovered that watching the latter part of The Iron Giant is quite effective when in need of catharsis.

Brushing your teeth with your left (non-dominant) hand is cumbersome and difficult.

ETA: Playing a real steel-stringed guitar (not Guitar Hero) just hours after you've made your hands all raw from rock climbing will give you a mild burning sensation in your fingers and is a generally bad idea.

There is very little in this world that is upsetting or off-putting that sitting down with The Sweetest Girl in All the World a.k.a. The Best Bartender in Atlanta a.k.a. my dear friend Runa can't relieve.

Don't get lazy when playing catch with a twelve-pound medicine ball. The injury you may inflict upon yourself will create a dull soreness in your finger(s) for several weeks.

1. Buy shit for her
   Money can't buy love. Buying shit for her just makes you into a human wallet.
   
2. Her homework
   Even if you're some six years or so out of grad school, doing her homework just casts you into the role of Duckie. You don't get girls as Duckie. You get "Let's just be friends" as Duckie.
   
   On the flipside, girls get boys if they're Watts, but girls can get away with a lot more dumb relationship stuff because guys are pretty stupid and oblivious.
   
3. Get involved with her when you know she has a boyfriend.
   Knock it off. It's just going to make someone supremely pissed off, and if you're lucky enough to not be the one, you never know if said boyfriend is an expert in Krav Maga or some other arcane martial art.
   
4. Mistakenly agree to hang out with her and her boyfriend.
   Yeah, like you have any control over that?
   
5. Spend the entire day listening to her list the things which are wrong with her boyfriend...
   You're in major Duckie territory here.
   
6. ...and nod and understand.
   You might as well help her pick lipstick and clothes, because if you do this, you're pretty much the gay (or at least asexual) best friend.
   

That's all I can think of at the moment.

1. Quit buying poker books for other people.
2. Start reading the poker books that you have.

At about that time, my father walked into my room in Miami, and turned on the light next to the bed. Having just rousted myself from whatever faraway reverie I had in order to funch, I luckily noticed him making his way to the night stand and managed, at the last moment, to avoid that sudden, piercing light which took me back to so many high-school mornings.

Not quite two days prior, I subjected myself to a similar sort of Chinese-Light Torture, where, at about 1:00 AM on December 24, I went to sleep with the light on my nightstand still blazing. Knowing full well that an alarm alone wouldn't wake me up on less than, say, five hours of sleep, the light was my insurance that I would not miss my 9:50 AM flight. Given the stories of the previous days (see my previous entry), I felt it somewhat necessary to get up extra early to make my flight--and were I to have an expected surplus of time, I could just catch up on a few episodes of South Park or Inu-Yasha.

Christmas with the family was pretty much business as usual, and we went to the requisite parties/luncheons. On the night of Christmas Eve (following a much needed nap), we went to Auntie Lydia's place where we met with a whole slew of old childhood friends. Well, mostly my brother's childhood friends--I was probably far too young to really be anything more than the token little-brother figure for the lot of them. Most of them are now married, and a good number of them now have children, which makes me feel as though I've somehow fallen behind in the race to acheive my life-goals. At this point, I'm not even near having a girlfriend, despite my father's assumptions, suggestions, and insinuations. Hell, I think I now know more people in my high school graduating class who have married and/or have children, than those who are single and/or are sans child. Of course, at this point in time, I hesitate to think I'd make a very good dad, despite my willingness to give them my steak^***.

But part of me can't shake this feeling of missing out on something, especially when the wives of said associates are quite attractive.

More on Christmas later...

---

^***The Steak Theory: My personal theory of fatherhood. Imagine, if you will, that you're sitting at Bone's or The Highland Tap or whatever your favorite place to eat great steak is (somewhere not All-You-Can-Eat, like Fogo de Chao), and you're currently cutting into what could quite possibly be the greatest steak you've ever eaten. It's juicy, it's flavorful, it's charred in the right places; it needs no sauce of any kind.

Your hypothetical child looks up at you and says, "Dad, can I have your steak?"

You're not ready for fatherhood unless you're willing, eagerly willing even, to relinquish the greatest steak of your life and give it to your child.

That's the Steak Theory.
Current Mood: tired

My dear, you have the wrong verb.


And as an addendum to the "Worst pains there is" discussion: try a static discharge on your hangnail. How's that for a karmic "fuck-you"?
Current Mood: drained

Biting your tongue has got to be one of the worst pains there is...
Current Mood: pained