More from the douche bag

This guy is great! :)

I told you I love to hate him. And it's not just me, either, everyone loves to hate him...or maybe everyone just hates him :P The guy loves to talk, but he always seems to ask the most inane questions. Today we had an hour long training session with a Cisco Rep on how to use our new Cisco phones (which come with voicemail), and we lucked out and had Mr. D in our session. When the Cisco Rep was talking about the voicemail, Mr. D asks her what they're supposed to do with voicemails. The Cisco Rep appears confused by Mr D's question, and rightly so, because it's definitely a "what the f**k???" kind of question.

"Um, what do you mean, what do you do with voicemails?"

First up Mr D blows his own trumpet by saying many people know his name, as if he's extremely important (more likely everyone knows his name so they know who to avoid), then he elaborates, explaining that because everyone knows him, he keeps getting calls from people so he has all these voicemails (today is our second day in the new office with voicemail), but as Mr D continues with his story he informs us that it's actually the one guy who's called and he just leaves his name and number but no message. And apparently he's left ten messages since yesterday.

Mr D explains that there's no actual message, just a name and a number, and he appears averse to just returning the call and asking why this fellow keeps calling him, so, what should he do? Should he forward the messages to someone? What...should he...do?

The Rep takes in the room and our expressions, and she realizes that we're all familiar with Mr D and his WTF questions, so she goes with the flow and tells Mr D that if this guy has left 10 messages for him, maybe he should return his calls.

As Mr D is about to ask something equally stupid, or perhaps repeat his question in the hope that he will be provided with some magical number to which he can forward all his voicemails and never have to deal with them himself, two other coworkers cut him off and ask slightly more relevant questions, like how many days will messages remain in the voicemail box, and how many messages can it hold. Everyone thinks Mr D will be the first to discover the answer to that second question. With the training session over everyone got up to leave, except for Mr D who apparently stayed behind to ask more WTF questions.

One of the best features of our new phones is call forwarding. We decided we should set up Call Forward so all our incoming calls go to Mr D's line. We also thought of leaving voicemails for him using a funny voice and giving Mr D's own number, so if he ever returns our calls he will get his own voicemail. Mr D makes life so much fun :)

Where's my coffee?

We moved to our new office today (finally merged with the crew from the Main Office after 5 years, that I've been here) , and I find out I'm still in charge of the coffee. I thought I'd be able to fob it off on some poor, unsuspecting schmoe from the Main Office but no such luck. It's a little annoying, and disruptive, to be in charge of the coffee. I get bugged a few times a day for change (because I keep all the money, I think I'll just start telling people I have no change) or because the pot needs refilling, and yet we have a Keurig machine which makes an 8oz cup of freshly brewed coffee whenever you need it.

In preparation for the move I did some OT this past weekend. There were a few peeps in the office but I was the only one there that drank coffee, so I was damned if I was going to make a 12-cup pot of coffee for me; I just used the Keurig machine. Mid-way through the morning one of the guys I love to hate showed up.

Just to bitch about this guy for a minute, we used to host training sessions for engineers from other bureaus, and we'd cater for those sessions, brewing up a pot of coffee and bring in donuts and pastries. Although there was also coffee in the break room, this guy would come into the conference room and help himself to a cup of coffee and a donut or two, but he'd wait until nobody was in there to pull this shit. It got so you couldn't leave the room for a second or he'd be in there eating everything. In the break room we have both the Keurig machine, and a drip filter pot. The drip filter coffee is crap, compared to the Keurig stuff, but this guy drinks the drip filter coffee and claims it's gourmet stuff (I make it, it's nothing flash, it's the cheapest coffee I can buy at those office supply stores. It's crap), but I think he drinks the pot stuff so he doesn't have to pay for it. The pot coffee is donation, whatever you want to pay for it. 25c, 50c, 60c, doesn't matter. The Keurig is 60c a cup, not negotiable, unless you want to pay more. This guy got the idea in his head that the drip filter coffee is free, and despite being told otherwise, in his mind it's free so he never pays for it. Every time you tell him it's not free, he acts amazed as if that's the first time he's heard that.

So he gets in to work on Saturday, goes into the breakroom, comes out and asks me what they're doing about the coffee. I play dumb with him because as I said earlier, I love to hate this jerk.

The machine is in there, I say.

But there's no coffee, he says.

Sure there is, I say. There's a whole rack of the K-cups for the coffee machine.

In the pot? he asks, probably really confused.

I relent and tell him I wasn't making a pot for just a couple of people so he can just use the machine.

Now this is why I love to hate this guy.

Instead of paying 60c for a cup of freshly brewed coffee from the Keurig machine in our breakroom, this guy hits the streets of downtown L.A. on a Saturday morning, in search of a coffee shop, where he will probably spend $2 or more for a cup of ordinary coffee. Of course while he's out for an hour he's still billing OT, even though he's not actually working in the office. Finally, when he gets back in, he complains that nothing is open, at 8:30am, in downtown L.A., on a Saturday morning.

So today we move into the new office, we're finding our cubicles and getting used to a new office layout, we're unpacking all our boxes (almost everyone has 10 boxes, some people have a lot more), the office is pretty much a madhouse.

And this guy comes up to me and asks what we're doing about coffee.

I play dumb again, but I'm busy unpacking and setting up computers for me and my girls so I'm not really into the game today. The best I can manage to do is to tell him the Keurig machine will be installed tomorrow (the vendor took it away Monday and is hopefully servicing it prior to it's reinstallation in our new office).

What about today? asks this guy.

We've got a cafeteria downstairs, I tell him (and we do, it's a friggin' awesome cafeteria). I tell him, if you want coffee, go downstairs and get a cup.

I just know once the Keurig machine is set up tomorrow, he's going to ask where the drip filter pot is. But because the biggest wig in the office doesn't want a drip filter pot in the breakroom, we're not setting it up. This guy won't be pleased, but I don't give a shit.

Actually I must give at least a shit, or I wouldn't have posted this :P

I wish we lived in the south, coz this guy is the perfect candidate for that unbeatable southern defense plea: "He just needed killin'."

Real Life in dreams

I hit snooze a couple of times this morning. The third time the alarm went off I was dreaming I was in a planetarium with Liz and we were lying back watching the star show but it turned into one of those 3D-rides you go on at Amusement Parks, where you watch the movie as the seats move around and you feel like you really are flying over Antarctica in a helicopter.

When the alarm went off the song on the radio intruded into my dream but it didn't wake me up, it just became the background track for the 3D-movie. Liz eventually had to shove me to wake me up :P

I've turned alarm clocks off in my dreams before. Quite literally picked up the alarm clock in my dream (and in real life, too, I guess) and turned the alarm off, and the dream continued on but without the alarm ringing.

The most bizarre time I did this I was playing soccer (in my dream of course) on the field at my old Primary School and when the alarm went off I noticed a door in the field, like a storm shelter door. I opened the door and went down the steps and sitting on a shelf in this storm shelter was a ringing alarm clock. I picked it up, turned off the alarm, and went back up on to the field and continued my game of soccer.

Not Safe For Work

Nooooo, definitely not safe for work, or kiddies, or prudes, or Republicans...not even sure the Democrats would like this one. Nope, you've got to have a wicked sense of humor (and some privacy) to appreciate "Do you take it?" by The Wet Spots.

So long, and thanks for the Fish Tape

Before we went out earlier I threw out some trash, and as I threw it into the dumpster I saw an extremely long strip of narrow metal and I thought, that looks like a Fish Tape. Liz doesn't like me Dumpster Diving and as she was already in the car with Amber I knew I had no chance of checking out my hunch, so out we went.

When we returned and put Amber to bed she had a poopy diaper, so I took it straight out to the dumpster (rather than leave it in our bin in the kitchen all night to stink our house up) and when I lifted the lid of the dumpster, there was my Fish Tape. In I went and as soon as I grabbed the tape I knew my hunch was correct. I managed to pull it out and the only problem with it was the handle had come off the side so the Fish Tape couldn't be wound back into the case.

No problem. There was still a square bit where the handle had been attached (it looks more like the handle slips on and off this square, so maybe they just lost the handle) and I have spanners, so I took the Fish Tape into the garage, took out a 1/2" spanner, which fit the square perfectly, and using the spanner as a handle I wound the Fish Tape back into the case.

I was going to buy a Fish Tape because at some point I want to run the Internet/Cable TV cables down the inside of family room wall behind the TV, and I'll need Fish Tape to do that. But it's worth the trouble of doing that because that will look a damn sight more professional than what we currently have; cables emerging from the closet, running across the wall, over the top of the door frame, and in behind the TV. Yep, now I can do a professional cable install...but when I'm ready and not a moment before :P

Actually my sister & her husband will be here later this year, and he's an Electrical Engineer. Not quite the same as an Electrician, but damn close to it. I might enlist his help with this little project ;)

* EDIT *

Fish Tape is a thin, narrow, strip of metal with a hook of some kind on the end; in my case, it has a spiral of wire akin to a spring. The fish tape is fed down into the space inside a wall, between the drywall and the studs, until it reaches the hole you've cut in the drywall for your TV cable to come through. You then attach a thin piece of wire to the hook (wire spring) and reel in the Fish Tape, which pulls the wire up along with it. You now have a piece of thin wire in your attic running down inside the wall to the hole in the drywall which is where you'll put your TV cable outlet. In the attic is also your Cable TV cable, which you attach to the thin piece of wire. You then pull the wire back down which pulls the Cable TV cable along with it, and now, you have a small hole in your drywall with your Cable TV cables coming out of it. Finally you feed the Cable TV cable through the hole in your outlet plate, attach the plate to the wall, and you have a professionally installed (or so it would seem) Cable TV outlet where none existed before.
You do this so you don't have cables emerging from your closet and running around the floor and through doorways and across ceilings.

It's the first day of Summer!

I don't know, it might be, it might not be. I'm just being silly because Hermes, or Mr. Crabs (depending on the time of day and who's asking) has finally resurfaced. It seems like he went underground three weeks ago, and I was starting to worry about the little guy. What he was doing was molting, again. This is the second time that I know of but I'm sure he's molted more than twice. But now that he's located on the kitchen bench next to the sink he's more visible than he was when he was on top of the toy shelf in the corner of the living room. He also seems to like his new location a little more. He seems to be more active (not that we paid him much attention when he was in the corner), and a couple of times he's actually climbed on top of his log hut (a half circle of pine bark placed on its side). He may also be ready for a new shell now. When I look at the shell he was in when Liz bought him, it's so tiny compared to how large he is now. I might have to stop at the pet store and pick up another shell or two for him.

Why do Manequins have nipples?

Anatomic Correctness is the obvious answer, but while that explains proportionality of legs to arms to torsos to heads, and yes, breasts, that doesn't explain why female manequins need nipples on those breasts. The only logical answer I can come up with is so when skimpier lines of clothing are being designed, the designers can take into account the nipple location and thus ensure sufficient coverage of the nipple occurs.

The illogical answer, and the one I fear to be more accurate, is that over the years manequin sculptors developed a wicked sense of humor, or perhaps they had it all along, but in more prudish times were never allowed to express themselves. Now, in more open, accepting times (unless you're a homosexual who wants to get married to another homosexual) the average person finds nothing wrong with walking past a manequin that seems to be feeling the cold.

So, has anyone observed a male manequin in his natural state, or near-undress? Do they possess Anatomic Correctness bordering on the obscene? The question that then springs to mind is, on what side does a male manequin dress? Or are male manequins, like Barbie's on-again/off-again boyfriend Ken, in possession of nothing more than a small plastic mound?

Is it the weekend yet?

Today was my RDO (Rostered Day Off) but did I get the day off?

No, I still had to work.

Fortunately my other boss got up before I did to attend to our daughter, who managed to wake our son up, and I actually got to sleep in for half an hour or so...past 7am that is. But even 7am is technically a two hour sleep in, so it's all good.

JE had his final dentist appointment (until his regularly scheduled check-up in September) so we all went to that, then we dropped him at school and swung by my mate's place to borrow his SUV for the day. He'd already told me it would need gas. "There's a gas station just down the road," he says, as he takes a small gas can down from his garage shelf and shakes it. "Yeah, I think this should be enough to get you there." He then empties the gas can into the SUV's tank. I get in, start it up, and the needle is marginally above empty...if I use my imagination.

My mate's SUV has a real gearbox, but fortunately I know what to do with the third pedal so it's not an issue. If anything, driving a manual (stick) in the U.S. is easier than in Australia because here I'm shifting with my right hand, and I'm right-handed. In Australia you shift with your left hand unless you have a column shift...I think. It's been so long I can't remember if an Aussie car's column-shifter is on the right or left.

I made it to the gas station and put in a little over four gallons of gas, and paid $15 for the privelage, which constituted a quarter of a tank, i.e., $60 to fill this baby from Empty, I continue my journey to Ikea in West Covina. Driving on the freeway for the first time in years in a manual (I had a Puegot with a manual gearbox many years ago) was not an issue. Merging from the 605S onto the 10E was also not a huge issue, if you ever drive through that interchange in L.A. you'll know why I specifically mention it here. Got to Ikea without a problem and Liz and the baby arrived shortly afterwards.

After a bit of a run around, returning some things, keeping others which couldn't be returned because Ikea no longer sell them, eating lunch, etc, we got the under & over bedset the in-laws wanted and it was time to head back home. Just before I left I helped a lady get a HUGE Ikea box into her Ford Focus station wagon. Nobody else was around, no attendants, no other customers, and the poor lady was looking so distressed that I felt compelled to help her out. (This is what being a Christian is all about, helping each other in times of need. Not accosting customers as they leave their local 7-11 and telling them Jesus loves them and that we're living in the end of days and unless we repent we'll be left behind and lady, shut the fuck up. That's what my lovely wife told her).

Liz followed me home from the Ikea, then it was off to the local Sam's Club to pick up two Twin matresses (Why the f**k is a single matress called a Twin? It's a single matress. A Twin is actually a double bed matress, but no, a Double is really a Full. At least we can agree that a Queen is a Homosexual and a King is a...CAL-KING??? What the f**k is a Cal-King? Well it's not as wide as a regular King, but it's got the length, baby! You know what I'm talking about, size matters, right? Er...how did we get onto this conversation?

Back to the topic at hand. I dropped one of the Twin/Single matresses at our house (for use later in the year when the family comes to visit) and headed for the in-laws, arriving just seconds before the FIL got there with JE, having picked him up from school. I got a good workout (by carrying a Twin/Single matress up two flights of stairs, as well as two heavy boxes) and sweating like a pig started assembling the under & over beds, finishing just after the FIL got back from his doctor's appointment.

We returned Spyfor's SUV and hung out for a little while, and so arrived late for dinner with the in-laws where they were shouting us at our favorite local chinese restaurant (where they know us by name, I'm the gwai lo 鬼佬) . Dinner was great but after a long, hot, tiring day, all I really wanted to do was get home and have a shower. I haven't done that yet because we had to put our daughter down to bed and the little angel wouldn't go to sleep straight away, and our bathroom is right next to her bedroom, so we're on the computers instead...but at least I got to update my Blog ;)

Later all. Shower time, finally.

When ingenuity meets opportunity

Just...wow!

And now, the Million Dollar Blog.

All Hail, the Haiku Grandmaster!

Haiku Grandmaster?
Hail, the Haiku Grandmaster!
Hail, Cap'n John! Hail!

What a racket

A "disabled, homeless" conman boarded my bus this morning, the second bus which heads down Spring St. I've used quotes there because while he'd like everyone to think he's disabled and homeless, I very much doubt he is. What he is, plain & simple, is a conman.

He hobbled on board the bus, leaning heavily (and prominently) on his walking stick, then started his spiel, in espanol of course. Why in espanol? Because speakers of espanol are predominantly Roman Catholic, or at least Christian, and this guy uses that to his benefit. I see the same thing at our freeway offramps, "homeless" people deliberately targeting the hispanics, using signs written in espanol (first, with an english translation second) intended to provoke sympathy and charitable feelings in the reader. Catholocism has instilled in their espanol-speaking parishioners an almost irresistible urge to give their money away. It's why the Catholic Church is one of the richest "non-profit" organizations in the entire world, because it's so good at convincing Catholics to give away their money, whether they can afford it or not.

Back to the story.

Leaning heavily on his walking stick, the conman talks slowly and softly, in espanol, and I don't know what he's saying, maybe just preaching, I don't know. He talks for a while then says in english "ladies & gentlemen, god bless you" then he switches back to espanol. One lady (of south-american descent) fell for it and gave him a dollar. I was not surprised to see her cross herself seconds later (you know, spectacles, testicles, wallet & watch, well, that was more accurate back when a man used to carry his wallet in his left vest pocket and his fob watch in the right). I've seen this guy operate before so I ignored him as he slowly made his way down the aisle, as did most everyone else.

When we arrived at my stop I saw the conman was second-in-line at the rear door, and given how he'd leaned on his stick I figured it would take him a while to get off, so I went to the front door, which is closer to the corner anyway. As I got off the light was changing so I crossed Spring St. (with the light), got to the other side and stopped, waiting for the light to change again so I could cross 6th St. Naturally I was looking across 6th St. at this point in time, and I could not believe my eyes when I saw the conman there, on the opposite corner, running to get in line to board a north bound bus.

In the time I'd taken to cross one street, this "crippled" man had crossed both streets. Remember I said the light was changing as I got off the bus, this meant the conman had run across the road against the lights. This is the same guy who leaned so reliantly on his walking stick on my bus, and yet he was able to run to catch a second bus.

Sure enough, once he'd boarded, I saw him again slump over his stick at the front of the bus and I could hear his voice in my head as he started his spiel.

I will give him credit for having a good work ethic; it was barely 6am and he was already working the marks. That's dedication for you. But let's consider this.

He rides a bus for no more than 10 minutes, and within 60 seconds of him getting off a bus he'll be on another one, working that set of passengers. He might get just $1 on one trip, and nothing on another, but every now and then he probably hits it big and scores $10 or more, and he probably nails that at least once an hour. He probably rides the buses for almost 12 hours, 6am to 6pm, and he probably makes at least $20 per hour. Let's say he takes time out for lunch, he probably still stops for no more than 30 minutes. Time is money after all, and he probably still averages $20+ per hour for the whole day. That's a 12 hour day, by the way. That's $240 (or more) for one day, $1200 for the 5-day week, approx. $5,000 for the month, or $60,000 for the year, clear, no tax, no social security, no deductions at all. He keeps the lot! And to "earn" that $60,000 he does nothing more than ride the buses all day, fleecing naive sheep out of their money. If he really is homeless he probably sleeps at the mission, so no cost to him. Then he has dinner and breakfast at the mission, again, no cost to him. Come to think of it he probably doesn't even break for lunch (he'd have to spend his own money for that), so no lunch = no cost. So of that $5,000 he gets each month, he keeps it all.

Oh, but how humiliating it must be to have to beg for money every minute of every day, you say.

Er...are you not getting this? This guy is not "begging" for money. This is his job! He's a conman tricking gullible people into giving him money. It's not humiliating at all. If I knew that I could make a guaranteed $60,000 (that's Net) just by riding a bus for 12 hours a day, five days a week, and asking people for money...Hell yeah, I'd do it, and I wouldn't be embarrassed about it.

Look at what I do now.

I get up at 4:45 (or a little later), and I leave home at 5:30. I'm already on board a bus by 5:45, but I can get up at 4:45, have breakfast and be on board a bus at 5:15am, and I do that sometimes, too. So my "working day" would start then instead of at 6:15 when I get to my office. I currently work a 9 1/2 hour a day (but I only work 9 days in the fortnight) and I get home around 5pm. I could be riding the buses for the 12 hours like this guy, and still be home at a similar time to what I am now, and I'd be bringing home more than my current gross wage.

Hmmm...my current job will allow me 12-months of unpaid leave of absence, and at the end of that 12-months I can walk straight back into my job, no hassles, no questions asked.

I think the choice is obvious, don't you? I think it's time Cap'n John became a "disabled, homeless" Cap'n.

"Yar! I was an honest, sea-faring man, a god-fearing man. I went to Church every Sunday unless I was at sea, and then I always made sure to read my bible. Then one day a fierce sea serpent attacked my ship and bit my leg clean off. (Knock on "wooden leg" at this point, actually small plank of wood strapped to thigh). Oh, I'm not angry with God, for he was watching out for me that day. That sea serpent might have got my leg, but God made sure I'm still here today, and He made sure I can still tell you all that Jesus loves you. Oh yes, he does. Yar! Now gimme your damn money! Yar! Thank you, thank you very much. God bless you, God bless you all. Yar."

Hell, with a spiel like that, I could probably clear $100,000 per year.

Titanic 2 : The Sequel

A very well done trailer.

Liz told her side of the story, allow me to elaborate a little more.

Normally I take JE to the dentist on my Friday off, but Liz took him this time so I decided to surprise her by getting rid of the carpet on the garage floor. After all, she'd been complaining all week that she wanted it gone. This meant I had to move everything on the right side of the garage over to the left side, then pull up the carpet on the right side of the garage, then move everything in the garage back to the right side so I could pull up the carpet on the left side. Then I had to cut the carpet up into bite size pieces so I could get them out to the dumpster, and so they'd fit. I also chose to organize the garage, restacking everything neatly (I am the Tetris King) so the garage looked a gazillion percent better.

In the middle of all this Liz called wanting me to redo the shelves in the closet in the family room. The brackets holding the shelves are spaced too far apart, and the shelves are bowing in the middle from the weight of all the books.

So after I got done with the carpet, and fed Amber and put her down for her nap, I hit the family room. First I took out all the books, computer bits, toys, videos, etc, that were all on the shelves, then unscrewed the brackets and moved them several inches in to more evenly distribute the weight across the shelves. Then I restacked the shelves but this time double stacked the books (1 row in front of the other) which opened up space for all of our VHS tapes and DVDs, which had been rendered homeless when our entertainment unit bit the dust last week (Ikea stuff is reasonably study until you move it, and then it collapses).

Around 2pm I was finally finished, and had just enough time for a shower and to plop down in front of the computer, before Liz and JE arrived home, ready to head out to the first of two birthday parties (see Liz's Blog) which was at the Kids Island place I warned everyone about the other week.

We get to Kids Island and are stopped at the door because both Liz and I are wearing shoes without socks, and Kids Island require all adults to wear socks, but not shoes. No shoes (or bare feet) inside Kids Island! They will, however, sell you socks at $2 each (so $4/pair?) I don't know why it's ok for the kids to have bare feet but not the adults, but it is. So while JE and Amber ran in and started playing, I stood outside in the foyer while Liz went next door and bought us each a pair of socks. But of course she didn't just buy two pairs of socks (when any old socks would do) clever, money-conscious wife that she is, she bought socks that we can take home and wash and wear later and not be embarassed to be seen in public in them. No, I'm not faulting her for that, just explaining why it seemed to take her forever to return from the store, which was just next door, where she only went to buy socks.

I then spent the next 2 hours chasing around after Amber, who'd just woken up from the nap she'd had while Daddy was still working his ass off. So while Amber was recharged and ready to go, Daddy was ready to drop. Liz got compliments from all of the other mothers about how good I was with Amber; apparently their husbands would never help out like I was doing...come to think of it, I was the only husband/father there. What's up with that? I know some of the husbands still live and work in China while their wives & children live in the U.S., but not all of them do that. Where were the other husbands? Actually there were only one or two little ones like Amber, so it's not like husbands were really necessary.

At the bottom of Kids Island I discovered a two-years & under enclosed area, where I was able to sit down and still keep an eye on Amber. One of the other mothers brought her little guy in so for a while I watched two little nippers instead of the one. Then another mom came in with her little one, but she stayed instead of taking advantage of Capn John's Handy Dandy Babysitting Service, thank god.

The most amusing moment was when Amber got knocked over by none other than the birthday girl herself, right in front of Liz, bday girl's mom, and another mom. I pointed at bday girl and loudly proclaimed "She did it!". Liz told me to shush. "That's the birthday girl," she said. "Oh, like that makes it ok," I said. I was just being silly. Mainland Chinese are kind of funny though. They like to make jokes and things, but they have their own special brand of humor, and they often don't get jokes made by people who are not Chinese.

At 6pm that party was done and we dropped Amber with the inlaws, then headed to my mate's place for his daughter's 4th birthday party, where I was finally able to kick back, put my feet up, eat pizza, drink beer, and just relax for a few hours.

We made it home at 9:30pm and got JE into bed (Amber stayed with the inlaws) which was when Liz decided she didn't like the way I'd rearranged the garage because she couldn't find anything, like the crockpot, which was never in the garage to begin with. So she had to go through everything, rearranging all of the boxes, and more trips were made to the dumpster.

Saturday we went to the zoo late in the afternoon and ran around finding the six Dodge cars hidden throughout the zoo in some promotion Dodge are having. We saw a few animals but JE just wanted to find the cars. Dodge had painted them with photo mosaics, i.e., thousands of tiny photos of tigers fit together in such a way that when viewed from a distance they made a large picture of a tiger, or thousands of tiny photos of penguins that when viewed from a distance made a large penguin picture, etc. Now also on the cars was another picture, a cartoon of a tiger or a penguin, etc, and you had to find the picture, answer the Dodge Rep's question, and you'd get a small prize. Prize?! Did you say prize?! JE was all over that, of course he didn't care for the animals but just wanted to find the cars. Also the Zoo closes at 5pm, and by 4:30pm most of the animals have been brought in for the night so a lot of the exhibits appeared empty, so it's hardly an interesting place to be late in the afternoon. This would explain why the LA Zoo closes at 5pm, even during summer with Daylight Saving Time, instead of staying open a lot later like other zoos do.

After the zoo we stopped at a park just around the corner from Liz's parents' house. Liz called her parents to see if they wanted us to bring JE to their place, or if they wanted to come to the park and get him and Amber. They said they'd come to the park so Liz hung up, and the kids played for a while longer, but Liz's parents never arrived.

I told Liz they'd gone to the wrong park.

How could they go to the wrong park, she said, we're right around the corner from their house, they bring the kids to this park all the time.

Then her phone rang. It was her parents. They'd gone to the wrong park.

Now I will cut them some slack because the park they drove to is on the same street as the park we were at, but it was in the next city over! The park we were at was just around the corner from their house!

JE was more than willing to stay with his grandparents that night but Amber sometimes has attachment issues, and Saturday night she wanted to stay with Mum and Dad. She'll go to her grandparents when she's in that mood but she refuses to stay with them, and she'll scream for me to come and get her if they hold on to her.

Sunday we managed to sleep in late then did nothing all day, which is very satisfying, but can be very hard to accomplish when you have kids.

Thus endeth another weekend.

Where there's a will...

The guys doing our floor have almost finished downstairs, I expect they will work on the stairs next. They're doing an excellent job. We have the family room cleared out for them, as well as the upstairs hallway. Both our children's bedrooms are packed with stuff with from the family room.

Luckily when the Adelphia guys installed our digital cable, there was enough cable to go from the family room into the hallway and into JE's room, where I set up my computer, the cable modem, and router, amid all the clutter.

So I can still type Blog entries, surf the Net...and play Warcraft! :D

The kids are with the Inlaws, and Liz has gone out to Ontario Mills Mall, so I get to play by myself without interruptions. I said BY not WITH!

Condoleeza Rice : No better friend...

Public Service Announcement

If you subscribed to Netflix prior to January 15, 2005, regardless of whether or not you are still a subscriber, you should visit this website to check out the results of the class action lawsuit against Netflix.

Frank Chavez signed up for Netflix as many of us did for the convenience of their service, in which Netflix originally promised "unlimited" DVD rentals, for a flat monthly fee, the DVDs to be transmitted via "one-day delivery". Don't bother looking for that specific wording because after Mr. Chavez brought a lawsuit against Netflix they changed the wording of their advertising and Terms of Use. Netflix acknowledge that the Litigation was a contributing factor in them modifying their Terms of Use, but they deny any wrongdoing.

Nevertheless Mr. Chavez not only won his suit (or more to the point, Netflix agreed to settle) but he filed a motion to certify a class of all similarly situation individuals, i.e., a class action law suit, which was approved. If you are a current Netflix subscriber, and have been since at least January 15, 2005, you may be entitled to a free 1-month upgrade. If you are no longer a subscriber but were prior to January 15, 2005, you may be entitled to a free month of Netflix.

More information about the settlement can be found here.

That is all.

You know it's a good workout...

when you have a shower, and 30 minutes later you're still sweating. That, or you know you're out of shape.

I got up this morning at the usual time, although that's arguable as I didn't hit snooze 10 times :P, got dressed, had a quick breakfast, ran around like a lunatic tracking down my shorts, door keys, padlock, etc, and still caught the early bus that comes by just 25 minutes after I get up.

Oddly enough, the early bus which comes by at 5:10am is more crowded than the bus half an hour later. Go figure. I still got a seat because even though several people were standing up, there were at least 4 empty seats at the back. I had to push past one guy who mistakenly thought I wanted to stand up in the aisle like him, but I got my seat and settled down to continue reading Thief of Lives.

The bus stopped at the El Monte Bus Station and a few people got off, and then we were on the Freeway and on our way into downtown. And then the bus stopped. On the Freeway. And not at a designated stop. The engine was off, the lights went out, and the driver called out, "Please, nobody get off the bus! Please, nobody get off the bus!" I didn't repeat myself, the bus driver did.

As the world famous Richie Benaud once said "What the f**k's going on?!"

The bus driver got out, then got back on the bus, and we heard him tell dispatch "I don't know what happened." The engine started and the driver rev'd it a bit, got out, messed around outside some more, got back on, rev'd the engine a bit more, and we were under way!

So I got into downtown earlier than usual, but later than expected. The doors to the Plaza where the 24-hour Fitness is located were locked. Automatic doors that automatically don't open. What a concept!

Fortunately a guy walking past was wearing workout clothes so I caught up to him and after a little verbal interaction that I like to call "conversation", I ascertained that he was also going to the gym so I walked with him. Great thing, conversation, you never know when it will come in handy.

I hit the gym, did 15 minutes on this treadmill/stairmaster/ski-machine type thing, had a shower, put my shirt on, and it gets wet because I'm still sweating.

When I left the gym I was passed by one of the two buses that stop outside my office. Fortunately there was a stop at the other end of the block and several people were waiting to board so I quckly ran and caught the bus. That's right, I'd just worked out and I was still able to run a whole block! I know, very impressive :)

I got to work about 30 minutes late (I blame the bus), and I'm still sweating. To make matters worse, we have a new landlord who wants to be rid of us (we're actually moving in a month or two), so he's being a total bastard and not turning on the A/C until at least 7am, so our office is like an oven (well not quite, but it's still a lot warmer than is comfortable).

Actually that did help, because my shirt dried out fairly quickly in our hot office :P

I'm still thinking I might need a second t-shirt to put on after working out, then after I get to the office and stop sweating I can change into my dress shirt. Of course maybe once I've been working out for a while I might stop sweating a lot sooner.

I was extremely impressed by a girl running on the treadmill/stairmaster/ski-machine type thing next to me. She was there, going like the clappers when I got on, she ran flat out the entire 15 minutes I was working out (and I had a good pace on me) and when I left she was still on the machine running her arse off...maybe literally.

What the???

I did a search on Netflix for The Craic and do I find it? I haven't yet, because Netflix tell me that 466 movies titles matched my searched. Oh, really? There were 465 other movies with the word Craic in their name?

Let's see...the first movie is 10,000 Black Men Named George...nope, no Craic there.
What's the second movie? It's African Grace: A West African Dance for Cardio Fitness...er...no Craic there, either.
The third movie is Alamo: A True Story of Courage. Hmm, no Craic there.
So what's going on? My search cannot have returned every movie Netflix carry, because I find it hard to believe their library consists of just 466 titles...so how on earth did they decide that 466 movies matched my search terms? And if none of the titles matched my search term, why wouldn't Netflix admit it?

I doubt Netflix do carry The Craic, because a Netflix search for the star, Jimeoin KcKeown, gives me three hits, and none of them are for Jimeoin, but at least all three actors had the surname McKeown. I'm sure none of the 466 Movie Titles have Craic in their title.

Stupid Netflix search engine.

A close call

A few years ago when Jonno was still alive (actually almost 20 years ago) we had a very close call with death.

While visiting a friend who lived not too far from the Dandenong mountains just outside of Melbourne, we went for a drive up to an observatory on the top of the mountains. We stayed up there and watched the sun set, then drove back down with our friend giving directions from the back seat, where he was sandwiched between his girlfriend and another girl friend, i.e. a friend who was a girl.

It was kind of like rally driving, and with our friend accurately calling out the direction and angle of each approaching turn Jonno started driving faster and faster, relying on our friend's memory and knowledge of a windy, hilly road that he'd driven many times before.

At the bottom of the hill our road met the main road, and we were required by law to yield to any traffic on this road. Just as our friend was mentioning this to Jonno we hit the bottom of the hill. Jonno glanced sideways and saw the head lights of a car right beside him. I'm not sure how fast we were going, but it was certainly faster than was safe for that road at that time of night.

Jonno hit the brakes sending the car into a skid, which he controlled perfectly. The car slid sideways and I'm sure we freaked out the people in the other car, as Jonno's maneuver had our headlights pointing right at them. Our friend in the back was practically deafened by the screams from the two girls either side of him as Jonno slid his car to a stop, finishing up right in front of a small kiosk. We were so close to the kiosk that I was unable to open my door without hitting the wall of the kiosk.

I don't remember being scared, I didn't even think I was about to die. Thoughts of death or the impending collision with another car never even entered my mind. This was just a year or two after I'd almost killed myself in a high-speed collision with a massive tree that left my car destroyed, so you'd think I would have been freaked out at another close call, but I wasn't.

Did you ever think you were destined for something greater than what you've yet accomplished? Thoughts like these can be dangerous. They can give you a false sense of security, making you think that while you're not quite immortal, you can't die yet because you haven't accomplished whatever it is you're here to do.

Worst Job Ever!!!

You need to watch the whole thing, coz the punchline is, quite naturally, at the end of the clip.
You'll also need speakers, but don't watch it at work...unless you have headphones ;)