Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Thursday, July 28, 2005
James Doohan: March 3, 1920 - July 20, 2005
As my friend Spencer just pointed out, my finger has obviously strayed from the pulse of the Star Trek community.
Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott passed away last week, and my lack of recent TV viewing had left me grossly uninformed.
We'll miss ya Scotty.
StarTrek.com Obituary
.
Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott passed away last week, and my lack of recent TV viewing had left me grossly uninformed.
We'll miss ya Scotty.
StarTrek.com Obituary
.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
My brother's cat...
... is so fluffy, that little tufts of fur are sprouting from between his toes.
If you were that fluffy, you'd sleep like this too.
If you were that fluffy, you'd sleep like this too.
Friday, July 22, 2005
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Granola is crunchy
I’m at work, eating handfuls from a 1kg bag of 5-grain maple raisin granola that I keep in my desk drawer. One of these bags will usually last me at least 3 or 4 days, and is so much better than the little overpriced bags of chips that my coworkers all buy from the vending machine in the lunchroom. I’ve got an entire filing-sized drawer that’s dedicated to tea, fruit/veggie juice boxes, crackers, etc. Some neckless dude at a nutrition shop once told me that the best thing for keeping your metabolism up is to eat lots of small meals throughout the day, rather than stuffing yourself with 2 or 3 big ones. So instead of eating a breakfast or lunch, I just snack a half-dozen times.
The only downside is that every week or so I need to make a trip to the grocery store in Armstrong to replenish my supply… and it’s impossible to walk from the parking lot to my office, while carrying a couple bags of food, without some asshole exclaiming “what’d ya bring me?” Will those stupid at-work phrases ever grow old and die? I say at-work because nobody talks to their friends, family, or strangers on the street like that… just the people that they see every day at work and don’t have anything intelligent to say to. “Workin hard or hardly workin?” There’s another frickin gem. Somebody said that once back in 1926, his chums thought it was hilarious, they all told the story to their families that night at the dinner table, and it was passed down through 3 generations of factory and office workers.
Well, its 16:25 now, time to go home. Another day, another dollar.
Kiss my ass.
The only downside is that every week or so I need to make a trip to the grocery store in Armstrong to replenish my supply… and it’s impossible to walk from the parking lot to my office, while carrying a couple bags of food, without some asshole exclaiming “what’d ya bring me?” Will those stupid at-work phrases ever grow old and die? I say at-work because nobody talks to their friends, family, or strangers on the street like that… just the people that they see every day at work and don’t have anything intelligent to say to. “Workin hard or hardly workin?” There’s another frickin gem. Somebody said that once back in 1926, his chums thought it was hilarious, they all told the story to their families that night at the dinner table, and it was passed down through 3 generations of factory and office workers.
Well, its 16:25 now, time to go home. Another day, another dollar.
Kiss my ass.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Damn dogs
I’ve got some tomato plants in my brother’s greenhouse. They were germinated on a window sill before I moved, and then transplanted to a large container just last week. They’re now sitting in a layered blend of perlite and peat moss that should hold lots of moisture while they bake under the toasty plastic sheeting. I looked at them yesterday after work and decided that they had adapted quite nicely and could probably handle a shot of fertilizer. Out came my bottle of fish oil emulsion. Originally purchased for the hydroponics setup I had built for growing tomatoes and cucumbers during the winter, it was packed away when I discovered that fish water wasn’t something you wanted anywhere near hot lights inside your house. It was however perfect for the outdoor greenhouse. I mixed up a jug and added it to the veggies, and poured what was left into the other various plants, then went inside to play Warcraft. My brother came inside a little while later, after having just gone out for a smoke. He says to me, “How full was that bottle of fertilizer?”
His landlords have three dogs, two of which are barely a year old and still very much in shit-disturbing puppy mode. One of them went into the porch and dug around the plants, and tracked the concentrated scent back to the bottle. She then packed it out to the lawn and chewed the cap off, leaving a big puddle of brown goo on the grass. My brother arrived just in time to take the wrecked bottle away and chase the dog off. I wasn’t too terribly worried about the dog or the grass, since it was all organic… but we used water to dilute the shit outta the puddle anyways, soaking it down into the turf.
Later that night I’m laying in bed (in my tent) when there's a curious noise outside, poking my head out the door reveals one of the dogs excitedly nosing the patch of grass where the spill occurred. "Oh well, go nuts mutt, I’m going to sleep."
This morning I roll outta bed, climb outside and stand up to stretch. The patch of lawn looks different; rub the sleep from my eyes and step closer. It almost looks as if somebody went at it with a small shovel, but there are no nearby piles of removed dirt. Not only did the dogs eat the grass, they ate entire mouthfuls of turf and soil. Does concentrated dead fish funk really taste that good? Is it worth plugging up your digestive system with a couple pounds of dirt and rocks? Hopefully I’ll never really know.
His landlords have three dogs, two of which are barely a year old and still very much in shit-disturbing puppy mode. One of them went into the porch and dug around the plants, and tracked the concentrated scent back to the bottle. She then packed it out to the lawn and chewed the cap off, leaving a big puddle of brown goo on the grass. My brother arrived just in time to take the wrecked bottle away and chase the dog off. I wasn’t too terribly worried about the dog or the grass, since it was all organic… but we used water to dilute the shit outta the puddle anyways, soaking it down into the turf.
Later that night I’m laying in bed (in my tent) when there's a curious noise outside, poking my head out the door reveals one of the dogs excitedly nosing the patch of grass where the spill occurred. "Oh well, go nuts mutt, I’m going to sleep."
This morning I roll outta bed, climb outside and stand up to stretch. The patch of lawn looks different; rub the sleep from my eyes and step closer. It almost looks as if somebody went at it with a small shovel, but there are no nearby piles of removed dirt. Not only did the dogs eat the grass, they ate entire mouthfuls of turf and soil. Does concentrated dead fish funk really taste that good? Is it worth plugging up your digestive system with a couple pounds of dirt and rocks? Hopefully I’ll never really know.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Twas a sad time indeed for Mr. Thomson
Here's an HTML version of the poster sheet that I've pinned to the bulletin boards at work.
I didn't bother getting fancy, since it was printed in black & white.
Click here
(Contact info has been removed for security purposes)
I didn't bother getting fancy, since it was printed in black & white.
Click here
(Contact info has been removed for security purposes)
Thursday, June 30, 2005
My baby's coming home
I’m picking Christine up at the airport today….
I leave work early at 14:45, plane lands at 15:35
Jeff’s a happy boy by 15:41
Home by 16:30
Beers cracked and food on the BBQ by 17:30
In bed by 23:00
Asleep by 01:00
I realize I’m sounding pretty optimistic with that last line, I’m not 19 anymore… but I have been workin out ya know.
I leave work early at 14:45, plane lands at 15:35
Jeff’s a happy boy by 15:41
Home by 16:30
Beers cracked and food on the BBQ by 17:30
In bed by 23:00
Asleep by 01:00
I realize I’m sounding pretty optimistic with that last line, I’m not 19 anymore… but I have been workin out ya know.
Monday, June 27, 2005
No more McDonalds, ever
Saturday night was spent drinking lots of beer and eating lots of pizza. I passed out on the couch where I awoke at 0520 the next morning. After a couple hours spent unpacking some household items and setting up the comp, I drove up to the old house to hook up with the new tenants (my co-worker and her boyfriend) and gave them a guided tour of the workings of the house and the 3-ton truck. On the way back down I swung through the McDs drivethrough for some breakfast.
I’ve never been a big fan of McDonalds, their burgers pretty tasteless, but I do admit to a fondness for their breakfast bagels.
Anyways, I’m at the order window, where you talk to a girl in person now, and notice a special on the board: “With any breakfast item you can add two hashbrowns and a coffee for just $0.70.” Sounds like a good deal to me, except that coffee goes through me like a laser beam. So I ask the girl, “Can I switch the coffee for a green tea and still get the deal?” “Sure” she says, “no problem”. Cool. I pull around the corner and wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Almost 10 minutes pass before the minivan and pickup in front of me suddenly move off together. Now waiting at the window for me to pull up is a too-skinny 17 year old goth girl. She hands me my tea, I say thanx, and she just gives a little head flick that looked unlike a nod, but more like a nose up / eye roll gesture. I notice that my tea package says Orange Pekoe, and not Green. When she returns with the bagel I ask if I can trade it for the green that I ordered. “That’s the only tea we got.” Was her annoyed reply. Great, thanks again. I get home and sit down, steep the nasty Orange Pekoe, and eat a hashbrown patty. Then reach for the second and find… bagel. No second hashbrown. Oh well, moving on. Three bites into my bagel I stopped and pointed the bitten end at my brother, saying “what do you suppose that is?” Inside, coating a portion of each of its 3 or 4 layers of cheese and egg, is a bright silvery metallic paste. It almost looks like somebody got waaay to vigorous with a metal tool on their grill, and then somehow transferred those scrapings through the entire depth of my sandwich. I broke that chunk off and finished what was now just half a meal.
Long story short, the only thing that kept me returning to McDs from time-to-time, despite their bad rap and fattening sawdust food, was their breakfast menu. Now that experience has been well and truly disgusting as well, I can’t see myself going back.
I’ve never been a big fan of McDonalds, their burgers pretty tasteless, but I do admit to a fondness for their breakfast bagels.
Anyways, I’m at the order window, where you talk to a girl in person now, and notice a special on the board: “With any breakfast item you can add two hashbrowns and a coffee for just $0.70.” Sounds like a good deal to me, except that coffee goes through me like a laser beam. So I ask the girl, “Can I switch the coffee for a green tea and still get the deal?” “Sure” she says, “no problem”. Cool. I pull around the corner and wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Almost 10 minutes pass before the minivan and pickup in front of me suddenly move off together. Now waiting at the window for me to pull up is a too-skinny 17 year old goth girl. She hands me my tea, I say thanx, and she just gives a little head flick that looked unlike a nod, but more like a nose up / eye roll gesture. I notice that my tea package says Orange Pekoe, and not Green. When she returns with the bagel I ask if I can trade it for the green that I ordered. “That’s the only tea we got.” Was her annoyed reply. Great, thanks again. I get home and sit down, steep the nasty Orange Pekoe, and eat a hashbrown patty. Then reach for the second and find… bagel. No second hashbrown. Oh well, moving on. Three bites into my bagel I stopped and pointed the bitten end at my brother, saying “what do you suppose that is?” Inside, coating a portion of each of its 3 or 4 layers of cheese and egg, is a bright silvery metallic paste. It almost looks like somebody got waaay to vigorous with a metal tool on their grill, and then somehow transferred those scrapings through the entire depth of my sandwich. I broke that chunk off and finished what was now just half a meal.
Long story short, the only thing that kept me returning to McDs from time-to-time, despite their bad rap and fattening sawdust food, was their breakfast menu. Now that experience has been well and truly disgusting as well, I can’t see myself going back.
The dust settles
Saturday’s move was absolutely beautiful.
I had spent the last week and a half preparing the entire house for that day. Every single item I own was properly packaged and sorted according to destination. There was no way I was going to let the experience be anywhere near as stressful as the one-day hell move that I made from 40th ave to this place two summers ago.
Note to self for future: 90% of moving stress is a direct result of insufficient planning and preparation.
Spencer arrived nice and early, several bottles of Gatorade in tow, just as I finished the last of the cleaning. We set to work right away, running everything up to the 3-ton truck that I had borrowed from work. The truck’s huge 8’ x 20’ deck perfectly accommodated everything that was bound for my in-law’s basement in just one load. My brother arrived and we loaded up his and Spencer’s cars with the items that were staying with me, and then we piled into the 3-ton and boogied. Unloading at Mary & Rick’s was quick and painless, barely 40 minutes to run everything down around the side of the house and in through the wide patio door to the basement. Our efficiency was celebrated with a few beers afterwards, generously provided by our furniture storage hosts. Back up to the house to drop off the truck and take the cars down to Chris’s. There we unloaded my clothes, computer, and collection of 18th century miniature wicker poodles... (Can’t live without those). Grabbed my bro’s industrial strength vacuum and ran back up to do a final sweep of the old digs. Said goodbye to the neighbor, who seemed annoyed that I didn’t find the time during my last few days of packing to mow my post-rainy lawn, and roared back down the hill to my new home.
Time: 4:00 PM.
Elapsed time after factoring out extended beer break: 5 hours *new record*
Thanx to all those who made it possible….. Spencer “Sprinty” Watson, for once again being ready to work all day for me. Chris, for helping me to move then opening up his home to his poor, roofless brother. Christine’s parents, for smiling and offering us beer despite my invading their house with a monstrous pile of junk.
I had spent the last week and a half preparing the entire house for that day. Every single item I own was properly packaged and sorted according to destination. There was no way I was going to let the experience be anywhere near as stressful as the one-day hell move that I made from 40th ave to this place two summers ago.
Note to self for future: 90% of moving stress is a direct result of insufficient planning and preparation.
Spencer arrived nice and early, several bottles of Gatorade in tow, just as I finished the last of the cleaning. We set to work right away, running everything up to the 3-ton truck that I had borrowed from work. The truck’s huge 8’ x 20’ deck perfectly accommodated everything that was bound for my in-law’s basement in just one load. My brother arrived and we loaded up his and Spencer’s cars with the items that were staying with me, and then we piled into the 3-ton and boogied. Unloading at Mary & Rick’s was quick and painless, barely 40 minutes to run everything down around the side of the house and in through the wide patio door to the basement. Our efficiency was celebrated with a few beers afterwards, generously provided by our furniture storage hosts. Back up to the house to drop off the truck and take the cars down to Chris’s. There we unloaded my clothes, computer, and collection of 18th century miniature wicker poodles... (Can’t live without those). Grabbed my bro’s industrial strength vacuum and ran back up to do a final sweep of the old digs. Said goodbye to the neighbor, who seemed annoyed that I didn’t find the time during my last few days of packing to mow my post-rainy lawn, and roared back down the hill to my new home.
Time: 4:00 PM.
Elapsed time after factoring out extended beer break: 5 hours *new record*
Thanx to all those who made it possible….. Spencer “Sprinty” Watson, for once again being ready to work all day for me. Chris, for helping me to move then opening up his home to his poor, roofless brother. Christine’s parents, for smiling and offering us beer despite my invading their house with a monstrous pile of junk.
Friday, June 24, 2005
Perpetual anxiety...
...built up to barely tolerable levels a couple weeks back, plateaued up until today, and then it spiked. This will be the last post from the comfort of my current home, tomorrow I move. Come Sunday I should be able to relax for a bit. Yeah, right up until the family wedding in two weeks, followed by another in August. Then I leave my job, then I move again, then I start school. It’s like looking at the dark, at the end of the dark, at the end of the tunnel.
Baby steps, one near-death experience at a time... I’ll let you know on Sunday if I survived this one.
Baby steps, one near-death experience at a time... I’ll let you know on Sunday if I survived this one.
Monday, June 20, 2005
The expressive TV preacher
Sure it's immature toilet humor... but this guy's facial exressions, combined with perfect sound effect timing from the sick bastard who edited this together... still leaves me laughing my ass off.
Click here
I love it.
Click here
I love it.
Friday, June 17, 2005
Livin in a van, down by the river
I’ve started to pack for the upcoming move, dividing everything into 3 categories:
- Items that I can live without for the rest of the summer, which are going into storage in the basement of Christine’s parent’s house
- Items that are dead weight to me but might be of some use to my coworker who will be moving into my house when I’m gone
- Necessities that will be coming with me to my brother’s house
I’m going to spend the next 2 months living with my bro… since living all by myself in a 3 bedroom, 1.5 bath house means a lot of potential beer money is getting blown on excessive rent and utilities. That and my brother can hook me up with some hot babes.
Chris has a little basement suite just east of Swan Lake, where he’s just finished building an enclosed patio with combined greenhouse, and I look forward to many relaxing nights sitting out there in a lawn chair with a fire and some music. The best part though, is I’m gonna be “camping” the whole time. Since it’s just a one bedroom suite, my logical destination would have been the living room couch… but that’s just plain awkward. The last thing I would want for my brother and his houseguests would be to have to push the laundry off of my bed/couch in order to have a place to sit while watching TV. So while I’ll still essentially live with him in his house, using his kitchen and bathroom, I’ll just sleep outside in my tent. Most of the people I’ve spoken to about this think it’s kinda odd, but I’m looking forward to it. The least I can do for my brother, after he so readily offered up his home for me, is to try and retain a semblance of privacy for him.
If I was staying there any longer than two months I’d also make a point of embracing the tent living lifestyle…. Grow my hair out, buy some old corduroys, carve an elaborate water bong that would display from a hanging pocket inside the tent, build a monument to the hop gods outta empty beer cans outside the door, and tell people who pass by that I’ll give them a Tarot card reading if they give me a ride into town to visit my parole officer.
The only downside is that getting outta bed to go use the washroom will now require some form of clothing.
- Items that I can live without for the rest of the summer, which are going into storage in the basement of Christine’s parent’s house
- Items that are dead weight to me but might be of some use to my coworker who will be moving into my house when I’m gone
- Necessities that will be coming with me to my brother’s house
I’m going to spend the next 2 months living with my bro… since living all by myself in a 3 bedroom, 1.5 bath house means a lot of potential beer money is getting blown on excessive rent and utilities. That and my brother can hook me up with some hot babes.
Chris has a little basement suite just east of Swan Lake, where he’s just finished building an enclosed patio with combined greenhouse, and I look forward to many relaxing nights sitting out there in a lawn chair with a fire and some music. The best part though, is I’m gonna be “camping” the whole time. Since it’s just a one bedroom suite, my logical destination would have been the living room couch… but that’s just plain awkward. The last thing I would want for my brother and his houseguests would be to have to push the laundry off of my bed/couch in order to have a place to sit while watching TV. So while I’ll still essentially live with him in his house, using his kitchen and bathroom, I’ll just sleep outside in my tent. Most of the people I’ve spoken to about this think it’s kinda odd, but I’m looking forward to it. The least I can do for my brother, after he so readily offered up his home for me, is to try and retain a semblance of privacy for him.
If I was staying there any longer than two months I’d also make a point of embracing the tent living lifestyle…. Grow my hair out, buy some old corduroys, carve an elaborate water bong that would display from a hanging pocket inside the tent, build a monument to the hop gods outta empty beer cans outside the door, and tell people who pass by that I’ll give them a Tarot card reading if they give me a ride into town to visit my parole officer.
The only downside is that getting outta bed to go use the washroom will now require some form of clothing.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
VOIP
Voice Over Internet Protocol
It’s been around for a long time, at least as long as broadband has been available, but I’ve never really had a use for it before. However, ever since watching the “Leeroy” World of Warcraft fan video (scroll down a bit), I’ve been thinking about how much cooler it would be to use real time voice chat with my online buddies while playing. Typing out text messages in the game is all fine and good, until you get into a situation where you need to communicate very quickly or in great detail, and then it gets clunky. There’s been many a time where I had been playing in a group with people and suddenly needed to tell them something while we’re already engaged in a battle… and having to let go of the mouse and hotkeys long enough to type “There’s another one coming up behind”, or even just “help” or “lookout”, is an eternity in which my own character is rendered physically unable to respond to the impending issue. Spencer had obviously been thinking the same thing; cuz he checked out then clued me into a program called Skype… and it’s great. The interface is much like a plain old messaging program, you fire it up and it checks your contact list for who’s online, then gives you the option to call them. Once connected it works just like a telephone conversation, except you’re speaking into your hands-free desktop microphone, and the voice is coming through the PC speakers. Spencer and I tried it out briefly a couple days ago, then Craig picked up a headset and joined the party last night. We still need to hammer out a few kinks, but already the game experience is a lot more enjoyable… so much more playing time is spent actually accomplishing something, rather than stopping every few seconds to hammer out a few lines of text.
I’m all about efficiency when it comes to my unhealthy addictions.
It’s been around for a long time, at least as long as broadband has been available, but I’ve never really had a use for it before. However, ever since watching the “Leeroy” World of Warcraft fan video (scroll down a bit), I’ve been thinking about how much cooler it would be to use real time voice chat with my online buddies while playing. Typing out text messages in the game is all fine and good, until you get into a situation where you need to communicate very quickly or in great detail, and then it gets clunky. There’s been many a time where I had been playing in a group with people and suddenly needed to tell them something while we’re already engaged in a battle… and having to let go of the mouse and hotkeys long enough to type “There’s another one coming up behind”, or even just “help” or “lookout”, is an eternity in which my own character is rendered physically unable to respond to the impending issue. Spencer had obviously been thinking the same thing; cuz he checked out then clued me into a program called Skype… and it’s great. The interface is much like a plain old messaging program, you fire it up and it checks your contact list for who’s online, then gives you the option to call them. Once connected it works just like a telephone conversation, except you’re speaking into your hands-free desktop microphone, and the voice is coming through the PC speakers. Spencer and I tried it out briefly a couple days ago, then Craig picked up a headset and joined the party last night. We still need to hammer out a few kinks, but already the game experience is a lot more enjoyable… so much more playing time is spent actually accomplishing something, rather than stopping every few seconds to hammer out a few lines of text.
I’m all about efficiency when it comes to my unhealthy addictions.
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