Rantings of a Crank
Engineering Priorities

I know that Plus is probably more geek-oriented than other social networks, but the fact that the NHL playoffs don’t really seem to be “trending” in any meaningful way is kinda ridiculous. It probably doesn’t help that most of the NHL teams that have a social media presence have that presence almost exclusively on Twitter and/or Facebook (and, seems, most frequently, FaceBook by way connecting their official FB account to their Twitter account).

But why is it that entitities like the NHL concentrate their efforts almost exclusively on sites like Twitter and/or FaceBook? For starters,  FaceBook, Twitter and other networks make it dead-easy to post once and get your message out to a number of sites at once. Google’s Plus? Not so much. Crap like this is why Google really needs to work on their cross-platform sharing APIs (have they even published anything meaningful, yet??).

For me, this lack of being able to see updates via Plus is the second biggest reason (behind friends’ not being willing to move off FB) that I still need to log into FB and/or Twitter. I come to Plus because I want to. I have absolutely nothing I could (correctly or incorrectly) conflate with a need to login to Plus.

Just Like Old Times…

I used to work for Verizon (technically Digex, at the time) as a UNIX engineer (glorified systems administrator, to be honest). One of the most annoying things I had to deal with was getting customer call about problems with their host, doing diagnostics, determining that there was a networking issue, calling our NetOps folks to see what might be going on (usually after telling them what was fucked up on their side), then, minutes later having everything “magically working again, asking “what’d you change” and being told “nothing: everything’s still the same”.

Really? I called you with a problem. I told you what the problem was. I listened to you type for a few seconds and then things suddenly started working, but you made no changes on your side to cause things to suddenly start working again? Ok: sounds legit.

I’d thought I’d gotten away from that, given that I last worked for Verizon in May of 2004. Apparently, even though I’ve gone on to bigger and better, networking at Verizon is still the same.

Today, I was killing time, waiting for my wife to fill a prescription at the local Walgreens. Not wanting to participate in the slow death that is sitting at the pharmacy counter, I opted to sit out in my car and listen to Last.FM and mess around on Google Plus.

All was going well until the music stopped. I flipped back to Last.FM from Plus and found that I couldn’t get the music to restart. Kept getting “insufficient content” errors. I flipped back to my profile page and noticed that the app couldn’t load my user profile. At first, I figured “Last.FM must be having server problems.”

So, I flipped back to Plus to bitch about it. I noticed that it was taking hitting “post” multiple times in order for a post or a comment to actually get posted without a “can’t post at this time” error message popping up.

After about 20 minutes of this nonsense, I dialed *611 to see if VZW might be having issues. The friendly CSR representative took my information, checked her systems and informed me that she wasn’t seeing any issues. She suggested that, after I got off the call with her, I should take my battery out for about thirty seconds and then restart my phone - that that should clear up any phone-caused issues.

Um. Yeah. Sounds legit.

At any rate, I opted to not pull my battery out. However, in about half the time that it would have taken to have followed her instructions and for my phone to finish rebooting, I had full, uninterrupted network connectivity back. Last.FM was happy and I had tunes again.

I’m almost certain that were I to have re-dialed *611 and asked “what’d you guys have to do to fix things,” I would get the usual Verizon NetOps answer of “nothing. We didn’t change anything”.

Humor in Strange Places

Earlier today (14:00 on Friday the 13th, to be exact), I had a double root canal procedure performed. Prior to the procedure, I was, to say the least, “anxiety-ridden”. I mean, jus the name of the procedure is anxiety-inducing. “Root canal”.

I mean, I’d always heard horror stories, but never really knew what it was. Something about the name made it sound like they bored into the roots of your teeth through your gums. To be honest, what they actually do isn’t much better: the drill into your teeth through the top an obliterate your nerves. Even knowing that, ultimately, there’d be no nerves left to feel pain, I definitely went into the procedure with a feeling of dread. It being scheduled for a Friday the thirteenth didn’t help those feelings at all - though, I guess the scheduling seemed “apt” (for lack of a better word). So, I brought a 0.5mg Xanax pill with me to help keep myself from climbing the walls.

Now, I don’t know whether it was the Xanax, my underlying (probabaly “twisted” sense of humor) or that the procedure went exceptionally well. Whatever it was, it wasn’t the horror show I was expecting.

To be honest, as I sat there in the chair, with a rubber block between my left-side molars, mouth utterly-numbed and a rubber-dam stretched across my mouth like a workman’s tarp, I really mostly felt like a carpentry project. Or, maybe I felt like a prop in a BDSM scene? Whatever. The situation isn’t one that I’d volunteer for, but it wasn’t the horror-show I was expecting.

Before the novocaine and fixing of the rubber components, I’d taken my Xanax. The doctor was nice enough to have his assistant crush it to a fine powder so that I could stuff it under my tongue and get the effects much more quickly than normal. So, by the time the work started to go down, I was fairly relaxed. In fact, I almost nodded off a few times while the procedure was going on. Dunno whether that was simple boredom, the Xanax or a combination of the two.

/me shrugs

At any rate, the situation was such that I was finding many things about it amusing:

  • As they explained the hardware they would be putting in my mouth - in particular the rubber dam - my mind couldn’t help but wander back to highschool. My time in highschool was during the peak of the HIV hysteria. I remember the health classes and other materials promulgating the use of rubber dams to make oral sex safe.
  • As the doctor began drilling, and I smelled the smokey scent associated with it, I was reminded of the old Bill Cosby commedy routine that talked about the burning smell, among other things.
  • I notice that the scope he was doing the procedure through was a Carl Zeiss machine. Now, Carl Zeiss has, historically, made some very fine optics. That says, they’re an old German company. They were also very popular with the Nazis, for a while. So, it seemed amusingly apt that they would be the purveyors of such fine tortured devices.
  • This led me to thoughts of comedy movie Nazis conducting comical torture sessions.
  • This led me to have amusing images of Nazi uniform-clad BDSM people I’ve seen over the years
  • This led me to think, “I wonder how many dental professionals practice BDSM in their personal lives”

And so, my mind continued to drift from one amusing thing to another. At several points in the procedure, as I chuckled to myself at the thoughts running through my head and the overall silliness of the situation, the doctor would stop what he was doing. As a good, conscientious doctor, he was concerned that I was in pain.

I wasn’t, but with all the hardware in my mouth, I wasn’t really in a position to articulate that, “no, I’m just amused by the situation.” Probably just as well, he’d probably have thought it might be a good idea to call the guys from the local psych ward to come pick up the wacko that thinks having a root canal is funny.

At the end of it all, the least pleasant part of the procedure was the not being able to talk during it. I mean, with all the things running through my head, I had a real need to make snarky commentary. The fact that I couldn’t was rather frustrated.

Now, I’m sitting here and my teeth feel like they’ve been replaced by shards of broken glass. I went into the bathroom and discovered one more bit of comedy: pulling my lips back far enough to survey the ravaged teeth, I realized my mouth now looks like I’m a carny-worker. Awesome.

No. I’m not writing this while kited on Vicodin. While the doctor was nice enough to write me a script, I’ll likely end up not using it. Historically, pain killers don’t so much remove my ability to feel pain as make me so dizzy and nauseous that I’m too distracted to fully process the pain. So, the script is sitting with my keys and credit cards, unfilled. Chances are, it will stay that way.

    Musings on Mega Lotteries

    Each time one of the big US lotteries reach stupidly-high prize levels, it causes me to ruminate on a number of things. I’ve never had illusions that I might win a meaningfully, life-changing prize, but it’s still nice to think of the possibilities. This time, as the prize number became more and more stratospheric, it caused me - prompted or of my own accord, a number of things.

    I’m kind of a statistics geek - not so much from the standpoint of being massively into specific statistics but more from the standpoint of being amused by people’s habits and interests. I’ve got to think that things like mega lotteries cause all sorts of interesting queries to end up in Google’s data banks. It would be sort of interesting to see what lottery-related questions are asked, how they’re asked, how frequently they’re asked and how the relative frequencies change as new numbers about the size of the prize come out. For instance, did people ask questions like (because, obviously, these are questions that occurred to me):

    • What are the community-property rules of my state and how do they relate to lottery winnings?
    • How often do married lottery winners end up divorced after winning?
    • Is the post-winning divorce rate any higher than the average divorce rate or the divorce rates of couples who’ve experienced severe economic stress?
    • Of those divorces:
      • how many are prompted by the lottery winnings (i.e., bickering over what to do with it, etc.)
      • how many are simply enabled by the lottery winnings. That is, are they couples who would have otherwise divorced, sooner, but didn’t have the financial wherwithal to do so (say because they couldn’t afford to live on their respective individual incomes or whatever) or were they simply not quite in love any more, but stayed together because they couldn’t think of a compelling enough reason to break up.

    You’re probably noticing a theme, here. Yeah: I’m married. So, I think like a married guy. I can’t honestly say that, after winning a huge jackpot, I’d still be long-married afterwards. Not that I’m actively seeking dissolution of my marriage, but money does weird things….

    The other thing(s) that come up are peoples’ reactions to lottery moneys they never receive.

    More than a few people, after the lottery has ended with a winner (that isn’t them), express things akin to sour grapes. There’s a tendency to look at whether the winner(s) were deserving of the prize awarded. Often times, it’s simple matter of being able to identify with the winners (e.g., “that’s why I never win: I don’t live in a mobile home”). Other times it’s along the lines of “he already had money - he didn’t need to win that prize” (because, hey, there’s anyone out there that needs $640Mn - especially more than the person complaining does)

    Whatevs. Not like someone esle’s winning the jackpot diminishes me for having not won. Got other things to worry about (some might say, “clearly, given the bulleted list of questions, above”).

    The most baffling thing, however are the people who seem to think that certain prizes aren’t worth winning. It’s compounded by who some of these people are. Case in point was a couple years ago, just after one of the big lotteries had paid out a $300Mn+ prize. At any rate,  I’d had an extra dollar in my pocket, that day, so I opted to buy a lottery ticket. The prize in that day’s drawing was “only” 15Mn. The woman behind the counter asked me why I was wasting my money on such a small payout. All I could think was, “fucker, 15Mn is more than you’re gonna see in a lifetime (as a 7Eleven clerk, she couldn’t have been clearing much more than minimum-wage): who are you to turn up your nose at ‘only’ $15Mn?” I mean, seriously, while even a $1Mn lottery winning wouldn’t necessarily be life-altering to the point of allowing me to retire early, etc, it would still allow me to pay off my mortgage. Given that my mortgage sets me back $30K/year, even if I changed nothing else about my life, I could either just piss away $30K/yr on things like vacations and “toys”, or, I could take a job I really liked rather than one that ones dictated by financial needs, etc.. So, yeah, it’s “only” $1Mn - I just don’t how you could ever possibly question why anyone would “waste” $1 on such a “small” prize.

    Oh well, there’s no accounting for what goes through other peoples heads.

    Marketing Geniuses

    I gotta say, if there was a possible way to fuck up the marketing of the NHL Winter Classic, the various outlets found a way to do so.

    I should not have seen empty seats in the stands. But, when you’re setting extortionate purchase-terms for season ticket holders (you had to buy tickets to all three WC events if you wanted to be allowed to buy the “main event” tickets), you pretty much guarantee that a significant chunk of the tickets will go to scalpers ticket purchasing services and package promoters. And when those outlets are charging as much for a pair of seats as an entire season ticket plan, you’re gonna have a hard time filling all the seats.

    Back in November, when the NHL Shop started the Winter Classic marketing blitz, I’d ordered a pair of “authentic” Winter Classic jerseys. I’d figured “since I can’t reasonably afford to go to the event, I can splurge on jerseys for my wife and me”. So, I put in the order for the customized jerseys - a Hartnell/19 for Donna and a Timonen/44 jersey for myself. The order sheet said to expect fulfillment around Decemer 15th. At the time, that was a nearly three-week wait, but, “whatever”.

    Christmas came and went and still no jerseys. So, I called up the NHL Shop to find out where the hell they were. I was told, “they haven’t arrived at the warehouse, yet, but we’re expecting them in soon enough to have them to you in time for the game.” This was not at all reassuring, but, “what can you do?”

    The week of the Winter Classic, still no box with jerseys were to be found at my door. So, I called them again. “They still haven’t arrived at the warehouse”. I was a touch incredulous at this and pointed out that there wasn’t much time for them to get them and get them to us. I was told how sorry they were for the delay but that there was nothing to be done.

    The Winter Classic came and went. Jerseys never arrived and no indication of what the fuck had happened to them showed up in my email. Yesterday, I called to find out “whut the fuck.” The person I got hold of gave me the same story of “they still haven’t arrived at the warehouse.” This time, however, they told me I could call back the following week to open an investigation or I could cancel the order. Having been waiting nearly two months for this disappointment, I told the CSR that I wanted to just cancel the order since they were well late and they were able to give me no indication of when or if I might ever see them. She canceled the order and gave me a cancellation number and told me to expect cancellation confirmation to show up in my Inbox (no such confirmation ever came). She then asked if there was anything else she could do for me. I took this opportunity to point out that she and the NHL had, to date, done nothing for me, so how could she do “more”. I also pointed out that their order fulfillment was abysmal and that I’d never bother to try to use their service again (and, to anyone reading this, I’d advise a similar path). She gave another useless apology before we concluded the call.

    Today, I spoke to someone that sells NHL merchandise for a living. I was informed that he’d only been able to get a very limited quantity of them and had sold out several days ago. Additionally, the manufacturer, who clearly had a hot commodity on their hands, wasn’t going to make any more (and, looking at shop.nhl.com, today, even they aren’t advertising them any more).

    I am, to say the least, a touch incredulous at how stupid this is. I mean, they were selling these jerseys for $350 per unit. Rather than cranking out more to sell, they opted to discontinue them and sell only the much cheaper “replica” and “Premier” jerseys. I’m sure, at some point, we’ll hear how problematic mechandise forgeries and the like are to these companies (I’ve already seen the “don’t settle for cheap immitations from Asia” on some sites selling the Indonesian made “Premier” jerseys). Yet, when they have the opportunity to sell things that people want and are demonstrably willing to pay for, they choose not to. That leaves people with the choice: of be price-gouged by third parties that bought big, early so they could price-gouge later; settle for lesser goods from “legitimate sources” or, since you can’t get the thing you really wanted in the first place, buy fakes. If the recording and movie industries have shown us anything, it’s that people will either do without, or will resort to piracy to get the things they want.

    Stupid.

    All I can say is, “fuck you, NHL” and “fuck you, Reebok”. I hope the lot of them die in a goddamned fire.

    A Cautionary Tale?

    As I wait for it to get closer to time to get ready for New Year’s festivities, I’m sitting here watching TV. As I scanned through the online “what’s on” guide, I saw that National Geographic TV was running one of their Aftermath shows.

    The series, as a whole, is based on some fairly far-fetched premises. However, those premises were, previously, ones that conceivably have the capability of having a “life goes on” outcome. The episode that’s on,now, Population Explosion, doesn’t really fit that mold. It has as its premise that (somehow) the earth’s population has somehow managed to double overnight.

    Yeah, I get that this is supposed to be a cautionary tale for our future that collapses the time-frame of whats to come as the Earth’s population doubles on a more natural time-scale. However, doubling over a course of decades versus over the course of a day (or even months) results in a completely different set of stressors and outcomes. Population is an inherently self-limiting problem. Explosive population growth is even more self-limiting. I’m not seeing on this episode that people have somehow become immortal, so a lot of the problems they’re positing seem unlikely. Long before we’d have to worry about creating new housing, beefing up infrastructure and finding more farmlands, energy and other resources, people would have already started to die, on a massive scale, from lack of food and environmental exposure. Let’s face it: if you doubled the human population, overnight, and even had double the farmland (and seed-stock) available to plant new crops on, those crops aren’t going to come online for a month or more - billions will have starved before then. Along with them starving (and running out of water), your doubled need for housing is going to disappear.

    Oh well.. I guess National Geographic had to scrape the bottom of the barrel for this one. Seriously, this one borders on the mind-bendingly stupid. Would that doubled population still exist three (or more) years from the doubling-event? Don’t think so. I have my doubts that, post doubling, we’d even have our current levels of populations surviving over the course of even half a year, let alone ofter three. The damage and deprivation caused by that doubling would be severe. Not only would all of the new population not survive, but a significant chunk of the incumbent population would die along with them.

    Sorry, National Geographic, but gonna have to give you a big, fat “F” for this bit of shoddy programming. This is even worse than the A&E’s Ancient Aliens shows.

    Restaurant Reviews

    Recently, Donna and I took a mini-vacation to Williamsburg, VA. While there, we stayed at an “inn” at the Williamsburg Winery. It was a nice experience. We toured the winery and had a really nice dinner at Café Provençal, the inn’s on-sit, gourmet restaurant.

    We’d scheduled our trip a bit oddly: Sunday arrival with Tuesday departure. We’d done this mostly to try to avoid weekend crowds. Unfortunately, it also meant that a lot of things that would be open during a summer stay were closed.

    While we would have gladly eaten a second time at Café Provençal, that wasn’t an option. They were closed on Mondays. So, Monday night, we drove into Williamsburg to “forage”.

    We came to a restaurant named Opus 9. It was a higher-end chop house, probably designed to compete with places like Ruth’s Chris. They had decent food and decent wine selection. And, they were priced in a similar bracket to Ruth’s Chris (two people with meal, desert, cocktails and wine came to a little over $200 before tip).

    In general, I don’t so much care how much a given dining experience costs. That said, I do judge a place on value for the money spent. To whit, I’ve been to places where a $600 meal for two was a bargain and places where a $20 bill for two was an absolute rip-off.

    Opus 9 was competent, but not a superlative value - particularly not when compared to what I get at home or what I’d had, the night prior, at Café Provençal. 

    A few days after we got back, I got an email from US Air’s “Rewards Dining” program. Turns out the Opus 9 was a program participant, thus I’d earned miles from having eaten there. So, “bonus.” To get the extra points for the dine, I submitted a review. Overall, I gave Opus 9 a positive review. However, I’d noted in the comments section of the review:

    The food wasn’t awful, it was simply unremarkable. I don’t have a problem with expensive restaurants, but I do expect to receive a good value for money spent (whether my tab comes to $20 or $200). The experience and food while “ok” simply weren’t worth the extreme premium (especially for the overall area’s cost of living) prices.”

    In retrospect, that comment probably seemed more negative than intended. It wasn’t meant as a “don’t go here” type of review, and I wasn’t trying to trash the place. I was just expressing that, while what I got was good, I felt it was overpriced for what was delivered.

    Today, I got an email back from the restaurant regarding my review. It was a nice, polite response, basically asking what could be done to improve the experience so as to raise the value proposition. So, I replied back:

    The review may have been received as more negative than it was intended. I’m not saying that the meal or the experience were bad. Indeed, the menu had a good selection, the ordered food was competently prepared, the restaurant’s facilities were rather nice, and the service was good - particularly given our server’s experience level. That said, given the food quality/preparation, I would have expected a bill that was 65% of our total.

    Overall, you probably suffered from two things: 1) my wife and I are probably overly particular about our food - when eating at home, we eat (almost exclusively) locally-sourced, seasonal foods and my wife is an a rather good cook; and, 2) we’d eaten at another, similarly-priced restaurant, the night before that had both better quality food and more-personalized preparation. So, we may have not been coming from a “fair” starting point. That said, once a two-person meal gets into the $200+ range, that kind of comparison is inevitable.

    My overall suggestion for improvement of the food might be to make your menu selections more seasonal and, even if you can’t alter your menu to be fully-local, create some selections that emphasize local food. Williamsburg is local to some really great food sources (there’s really local produce and meat sources within a 100mi radius). It would be awesome if those local products could be played up and showcased.

    In reading it, it felt kinda snotty. Unfortunately, I didn’t really know how to give a critique of my experience without coming off that way.

    It’s episodes like this that really makes me question what I’ve become. I mean, it’s not like I’m the offspring of monied parents. I wasn’t one of the preppie kids, growing up. Hell, at one point in my life, I sorta lumped myself in the category that my punkier friends were in. Yet, somehow, as an adult, I’ve become a yuppy - and the whole exchange made me feel like a yuppy-tool.

    At the same time, looking back, most of those tendencies have always been there. In general, I’ve preferred to do without rather than do with less than I wanted. I’ve always been a bit of an elitist - which, I might even be able to justify to myself, if I had some basis from which to be elitist. But, in reality, I don’t. I owe a great deal of where I am to a fortunate set of circumstances and a willingness to exploit the opportunities that presented themselves. So, “what am I,” and “how did I get this way” (and, yeah, you can set that to the tune of Once in a Lifetime).

    Time Differences

    I dunno whether to be impressed with myself or absofuckinglutely livid at the contractor who was “helping” me most of the summer. I’m pretty sure I’m livid.In the space of about three hours, I was able to just run through building and linking three functional backup servers - inclusive of downloading and staging software and repeating two of the servers (because I forgot to capture the install session to a text file). The contractor who had been previously “helping” me, had taken over two and a half months and been unable to achieve the same feat.

    Now, I get that I am fast at doing things, but a time differential of two months versus three hours??? I dunno how a person with anything resembling personal or professional integrity can bill that much time and accomplish so little. W.T.F.

    WTF, VZW?

    So, in today’s email, I find the below image/message from Verizon Wireless:

    I find it a tad confusing. I mean, I upgraded both phones to Samsung Charges in June. So, it’s not like either my handset or Donna’s handsets are eligle for a “new every 2” uprade for nearly two years. So why email this to me. Am I supposed to tell my freinds, who aren’t yet VZW customers, “hey: look at this awesome deal?” I mean, if that’s the intent, it makes no sense, either? Why the hell would I recommend, to anyone, “go get Verizon so you can stream video at LTE speeds and blow through your data cap in under a day!” Seriously: it makes no sense at all. It would only have made sense to send me this if: A) either of my phones were not recently upgrades; or, B) VZW hadn’t just put data caps in place for all new customers. Neither A nor B is true, so why spam me?

    Lunchtime Atrocities
    Where I work, most days of the week, there are very limited food choices. Basically, you have the option of eating down in the building cafeteria, walking over to the commisary (that’s ½mi. walk from the exit of the building, which, itself is a ⅓ of a mile from my desk) or going off campus.
    • The building cafeteria has several “food” options: Subway, a Chinese food place (it’s a chain, too, I just can’t remember it), two other sandwich shops, a hot foods concession, a burger stand, a salad bar and a pizza concession.
    • The commisary is a ½-mi. walk from the exit of my building. And, since I work in a large building, the walk from my desk to that exit is ⅓-mi. walk). Down there, there’s another subway, a pizza concession, a Starbucks, an icecream shop and a couple other low-grade concessions. If I wanted to walk further still, there’s a Burger King
    • The closest off-campus location is a ten-minute drive …and that’s after you’ve walked out to your car. And, given the parking situation on campus, you could easily have walked a half mile or more to get to you car (and, if you’re in one of the “close” spots, you won’t want to lose it over lunch, any way). That location is full of higher-end chains, but still chains
    I’m not a big fan of chain food, in general. So, if I’m going to eat chain food, I try to minimize the insult by at least restricting myself to cheap chain food. Subway’s cheap and it’s convenient. Notice, I don’t use the term “good”.

    Usually, what I get is the seafood sub. I order the 6” sandwich made with the Italian herb&cheese bread. I get it with American cheese, lettuce, tomato and a ton of hot peppers. Frankly, the hot peppers are the only thing with any flavor on it. Yes, I could order something with more flavorful ingredients, the problem is, those other “flavorful” ingredients have an awful flavor. So, I go with the filling but flavorless wonder.Now, under normal circumstances, the combination I choose would at least have some flavor

    • Seafood normally has flavor, but Subway’s seafood salad is just chopped up faux-crab with no discernible spices and flavorless mayo (I assume it’s mayo, but it’s just as likely some kind of semi-edible bonding agent).
    • The bread I choose claims to be “Italian herb and cheese”. As near as I can tell, the “Italian herbs and cheese” Subway uses were chosen more to provide texture than flavor.
    • American cheese, while normally mild, typically has flavor. Subway’s? Not so much. It’s mostly just a textural thing that provides a bit of filling - a very small bit of filling, given that they take one small square of cheese, cut it into two triangles and lay the triangles end-to-end, long-sides on a common axis, so as to give the appearance of covering the whole sandwich. Much as Mario’s cake is a lie, so is Subway’s cheese.
    • Lettuce can have flavor, it’s just that most sandwich places seem to choose to use iceberg or other basically flavorless lettuces. I don’t know what token greenery Subway actually uses, but it’s flavorless.
    • Tomatoes… I loves me some tomatoes. As a kid, it used to boggle my mind that they were technically fruits. As an adult with a very nice garden in my yard, I almost find it hard to believe that I was ever confused about whether they were a fruit or vegetable. With Subway’s tomatoes, the only confusion I have is, “is this actually food?” I mean, today’s tomatoes were literally white (granted, it was a pinkish white, so, it had the suggestion that they were distantly related to the bright-red, flavorful tomatoes I’ve had elsewhere, but it’s only enough of a hint to make you buy into them maybe being tomatoes). Their texture and flavor, however, I could replicate by cutting the bottoms off a styrofoam coffee cup, splashing them with ink from a red pen and tossing them on my sandwich.
    • The only saving grace is the hot peppers. I don’t know why the sandwich makers always boggle at me when I ask them to pile them on (sometimes saying things like “take what you think is an obscene amount of hot-peppers, then double it” to try to give them a picture of how much I want). Now, you’d think that canned sandwich peppers were canned sandwich peppers. Growing up, it didn’t so much matter which brand was on the jar, the crushed hoagie peppers were zesty. I dunno where Subway gets theirs, but it definitely isn’t from Talaricos. Yes, they too are gutless versions of the food substances they pretend to be.
    Oh well. It saves me the hassle of having to go off campus and it makes my stomach shut up. Though, in truth, I don’t know whether my stomach shuts up because it’s been sated or because it fears that I’ll assault it with another wave of utterly indifferent food.
    WTF, Lowes

    Sometimes, I don’t “get” the phone calls I get from businesses. Case in point, our recent purchase of an outdoor table and chair set from the nearby Lowes. We’d ordered it with delivery and assembly service, with service date being today. This morning, I get a call from the guy at Lowes. They won’t be delivering it, today, because they don’t have it in stock and that he’d call back, later today, when he had a stock-in date to arrange the delivery. Okay…

    Just a few minutes ago, the guy calls back. He informs me that he has spoken to their garden department manager and was informed that they don’t carry that item. I note to him that I found this rather odd, as I’d taken the bar-code card off of the set that was sitting on display over in the garden furniture area. He agreed that what he’d said didn’t make sense and that he’d have to talk to the garden manager, again, since he wasn’t seeing the set as being at other stores or being orderable. I noted that this seemed rather odd, as well, since the bar-code card had an entry in their point-of-sale system that had allowed the cashier to ring up the $780 worth of furniture and delivery/assembly services. He agreed and sounded even more confused, but assured me he’d call back with an answer before he left for the day.

    Meanwhile, I’ve got a $780 charge sitting on my Visa, no furniture and no resolution in site. God how I love modern retail.

    I Hate You, US Bank

    Each and every fucking time I use US Bank’s web portal, I hate them more and more.

    God. Their web site is just unspeakably horrible.That said, they do seem to make frequent changes to it.

    Now, you’d think that they would be changing it to address some of its horribleness. You’d think that they’d try to change it for the better. But, no, such is not the case. Each time they change it, they actually manage to make it worse. I wouldn’t think it possible, but, yet, every time they change it, they still manage to fuck it up worse.

    This time was a real treat. I’m one of those people that bookmarks websites that I have to visit more than once. Helps with remembering where I need to go. Well, US Bank has decided I shouldn’t go directly to that URL, any more. They’ve now set a redirect on the that URL that now points to a different website. Even better, the navigation on the new site is completely fucking brain-dead. If you click on the “login” button (on the page that has “mortgage” in the URL), it takes you away from the mortgage site and to their personal banking site. Unfortunately, you can’t pay your mortgage through that site.

    I call in to find out just what the fuck is going on. I’m told, “no, you don’t click on the login button,” (which, was pattently obvious, the first time you click on it and get redirected to someplace stupid). Instead, “you have to scroll down to the very bottom of the page and click on ‘Manage & Pay Mortgage’ link.” How completely obvious was this bit of navigational daring-do?

    At any rate, it’s this “Manage & Pay” link that then takes you to the mortgage-specific login. And, to add insult to injury, that mortgage-specific login is the exact same damned page that my bookmark was set to, it’s just now at a slightly different URL. Whut. The. Fuck?

    The whole point of an online banking system is to make things so that your customer doesn’t have to interact with an expensive to employ/maintain human. It really rather defeats the purpose when your web site is set up so horribly that people have to call in, navigate your equally horrible call-tree, find they have to call three different phone numbers (because the “call this number for assistance” phone number takes you to the wrong department and the person at that department can’t forward you and refers you to yet another incorrect number…)

    I hate you, US Bank. I really do. I have no idea how your CSR’s haven’t gone on murder sprees, because I gotta think that the number of frustrated people calling in has to be rather high and a non-trivial percentage of those people are a lot less nice about things than I am. After a while, the kind of shit they’re hearing on a regular basis has to build up and result in snaps. Ugh.

    Interesting Saturday Night

    We were sitting in the living room, watching TV, deciding whether to go to bed or watch a movie, online (we really know how to rock a Saturday night, eh?) when we heard a “boom” rattle the windows. Initially, I’d processed it as the house next door’s front door slamming. This struck me as odd, given that the previous tenants had moved out a few days ago. I noticed a car with Maryland plates parked out front. This seemed suspicious, so, we called the EMS non-emergency dispatch number to see if they could send a car by to check things out.>/p>

    As I was standing on the front porch, I noticed a strange pickup truck sitting across the street with white smoke curling out the windows. Initially I thought, “some idiot decided to park on my street to hit a doob. If they’re smart, they’ll notice I’m on the phone and roll out before the cops get here and really didn’t think much further of it.

    Apparently, the boom we’d heard wasn’t from next door. Apparently, something had exploded inside the truck’s cab and the smoke was the interior burning. Wasn’t until another neighbor, woken by what had turned out to be the truck going “boom”, decided to investigate the smoking truck. He walked over, jiggled on the door and it popped open. Thick, white smoke came billowing out. With the sudden influx of fresh air, the smoking interior became a firey interior. So, I informed the dispatcher I was on the phone with that they probably needed to treat this as a 911 fire call.

    A little less than five minutes later, Fairfax County police cars started rolling up. One officer pulled an extinguisher out of his car and attempted to extinguish the fire that was now licking up from where the hood and windshield meet. It didn’t work.

    A minute or so later, the fire trucks rolled up. A fireman walked up, fully fitted out with helmet, fire clothing and oxygen mask and opened the door, fully. Fire came billowing out. 

    Unfortunately, my camera’s ability to cope with the bright light of the fire against the dark of the night meant I couldn’t get good photos of the fire. It was pretty much just an orange flare in the center of the image. After they got the fire knocked down, I was able to take the below picture.

    EMS are still outside dealing with the aftermath. I imagine, once they’ve determined the fire is fully out, they’ll flatbed the truck away.

    If you’re from Manassas (cop that came up asked if we’d seen it before since it was registered to a Manassas address) and missing a big, white crew-cab pickup truck, I think I know where it might have gotten left (and, presumably, set on fire by whoever boosted it). Fairfax County Police Department will be able to tell you where to go pick up the burnt-out husk. Hopefully, your insurance company totals it: I know I wouldn’t want it back, at this point.

    Your Pet-gate Means Nothing to Me

    Humorous event of the day:

    Cat (Bella) goes charging headlong from her cat tree, in the living room, towards the kitchen. She often does this. I can only guess that her kitty-PDA pops up an appointment notification letting her know she’s late to an appointment or something.

    Unfortunately, when we got NewDaig, we installed a pet gate in the doorway between the livingroom and the dining room. The dining room is between the kitchen and living room. Most of the time, the main door in the gate is open. When it’s not, the cat passthrough typically is. Today, the main door apparently got bumped close. Cat passthrough was also closed…

    CRASH! 9lbs of rushing cat can, apparently, dismount a traction-mounted pet-gate .