Elliott and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

***note, I apologize now for the negative tone and self-centered nature of this post. Save yourself. Go Google cute bunnies or surf porn now, avoid the whole mess.
I had a fantastic weekend. Should I, therefore, be punished? Apparently so.

My phone died Sunday night, and apparently that means that the phone itself decides to go into paperweight mode after recharging. No calls, no email, nothing. Therefore, I never got the calls from the mechanic about the Buick, so even though I dropped the car for service yesterday morning, it didn't get fixed. I was able to bum a ride home, but now I have two vehicles in south Tampa and none at home, on a night I work until 8 pm. I'll be going to get Lori tonight, then driving back down here to get my car, then driving back home. That's not inconvenient. Not at all.


And the Packers lost. To He-who-shall-not-be-named. But we won't discuss that.

When I got to my desk this morning, my computer was off. I didn’t shut it off, but powering it back on confirmed a ‘thermal event’ transpired overnight. That’s a weather condition, not a PC issue. It’s like the Alli people referring to uncontrollable anal seepage as a ‘Treatment Effect’.
***artist's depiction. If only our closet was actually this big!

When the computer finally booted up again, I got the email from Lori that the new double-poled, double-shelved, beautifully organized closet that we put together last month suffered a meltdown this morning. The top shelf collapsed, and since it landed on the bottom pole, I’m sure that one’s worse for wear, too. Lori can’t tell for sure because the whole closet is just a jumble of wire shelving, clothes, hangers and boxes.
***not the Dammit, but the markings are strangely familiar


Now I just got another email from her, indicating that the Dammit Dog decided he wanted to roll in poo, and is now encrusted in it. He never does this, but it’s my fault, I haven’t picked up the yard lately because in rainy season, it disintegrates before I can get to it.
Meanwhile, our systems have been experiencing outages all day, so clients can’t access our system. And their clients can’t access our system.

And, thanks to stress, the nightmares are better than ever. Lori woke me up because I was whimpering in my sleep, apparently. That’s better than snoring, I would think, but she doesn’t agree. As I was trying to go back to sleep, the medivac helicopter was suddenly hovering and circling above our house until traffic wherever they were headed could clear. That’s not disconcerting when you’ve just been woken from a bad dream. Not at all. When I came back from lunch, my desk fan wouldn’t turn. After a few minutes disassembling, turning, flipping switches and banging it on my desk, it’s finally running again.
And I just read that my favorite magazine, Gourmet, is stopping publication after 68 years.
Can I get a do-over on my week? Because this one just isn’t working for me.

And it’s only Tuesday.

Random Acts of Thursday - For Boston, for art

Have you seen this painting? It's Vermeer's The Concert, painted between 1658 and 1660.

How about this one, Rembrandt's only known seascape?

Or this one?

I watch the box with the moving pictures, you know. As often as I've wished a quick and final finish to our 20-year-old television so I have an excuse to cancel cable and get a real life, Mr. Farnsworth's folly continues to suck me in. And because I'm a nerd that way, I tend to watch a lot of educational and documentary type things.

Back when I was an oblivious college student in 1990, thieves dressed as police officers handcuffed the night guards at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston and stole 13 rare works of art, including three Rembrandts and a priceless Vermeer, one of only 34 paintings ever created by the Dutch artist. I probably heard about it then, but it didn't stick. To date, and despite a $5 million reward for their safe return, the paintings, drawings and sculptures are still in the wind.

The most interesting aspect to me is that, as stipulated in Mrs. Garder's will, the museum's collection has remained unchanged since her death in 1924. As such, since 1990, the museum has displayed 10 empty frames where beautiful art once hung. Where many museums would hide such a vast disappearance by rotating other items from their collection into view, the evidence of this theft remains visible, open, raw for anyone visiting the museum.

My attention span is barely a footbridge

From time to time, I do manage to squeeze a coherent, well-versed essay from my addled brain. However, as much as I want to, today is not one of those days. Instead, I am electing to enlighten you with random little thoughts that have crossed my mind of late.

I love Bond films, and I am biased toward Sean Connery. Especially when compared to the wacky, '70's episodes with Roger Moore and wacky music and bad stop-motion photography. Which begs the question. Obviously James Bond in a finely tailored suit is NOT the same as James Bond with his tweed safari jacket and Sansabelt bell-bottomed trousers. Why then did '70's babes like Britt Ekland, Jayne Seymour, Maud Adams and Lois Chiles simply fall into bed with him? If we're going to do a parody of Bond in the NOW era, wouldn't it be far more empowering for them to reject him cold? To simply chuckle in his face when he tries to be suave in his bell-bottomed Sansabelt slacks? To scream 'Rape' when he grabs their arms tightly and throws them down on the bed?

This is not something a superspy wears. Even if he did get a Chevy Vega from the rental agency.

Oh, and even though I always want Connery to win, and would love to see Moore fail, I still love the episode up above where Homer tackles Bond, resulting in his demise. He he he!

A while back at the grocery store, I discovered manna from the pork gods: a three-pound box of bacon ends and pieces for the same price as a pound of strip bacon that I was going to chop up, anyway. Nothing like frying three pounds of bacon at once to put the whole house in an applewood-induced state of euphoria. A plus, it was Wright Brand bacon, whose marketing campaign includes one of the all-time best call-in radio questions: How can I get my wife to be more like Wright Brand bacon?

And yes, I'm inserting another rad '70's clothing moment. Because how else can we appreciate how far we've come if we don't remember where we've been?

Last week, as part of my weekly movie quote contest, I decided to take it upon myself to catalog all the films I've seen in my life so far. I knew I'd seen a few, but so far, I have over 650 on the list, and somehow I keep coming up with films that I thought were obvious and that I would have listed early on, but they're not there. It also amazes me how many movies I haven't seen in their entirety, despite knowing their plots and intricacies.

A week or so ago, I managed to get my entire desk dismantled into its component pieces, and I only had to drill out one 40-year-old bolt to get it done. Now I can once again park a car in the garage along with both bikes, and we can still navigate around with relative confidence. Which was especially nice this past weekend, because it poured for most of it, and unloading groceries is far nicer if I don't have to walk through the deluge off the roof of the house.

I did manage to stay relatively dry on my ride home on Friday, though I still get a little flinchy on wet pavement. No traction is a bad thing.

The Packers won yesterday, and beating the Bears is always especially nice. Tough thing, though, I didn't get to see any of the game since we're apparently not in prime Packer-watching country. That also means, however, I don't get any of these on my television, while overpaid commentators make generalizations about my home state:

Which could be a mixed blessing, depending on who decides to wear them.

Look at that! No discernable theme, not even any segues. The road to enlightenment blurs before you. Sorry about that. I'll try harder next time.

Has Bacon Madness Jumped the Swine With Bacon Beer?

Always one to share the joy of bacon, and especially if there might be alcohol involved, I must pass along the following article. If there was ever a reason for me to start brewing my own beer, it is this concept. This might even supercede my plans to perfect a bacon vodka.
Has Bacon Madness Jumped the Swine With Bacon Beer? I vote a hearty 'NO'.

Make sure you click the link at the end of the first paragraph, it takes you to another article with direct quotes from the brewer. Color me excited!

(Shared via AddThis)

Random Acts of Thursday - Serif's up, dude!

You would think, being a nerd and all, that I'd be an all-purpose nerd. However, turns out I'm quite the nerd snob. Role-playing games? You sir, are a complete and utter geek of the furry-toothed variety. Same goes for the ren-fair guys in tights and pointy shoes. This doesn't go for ren-fair babes, because the rennaissance was apparently cleavage-enhanced. In fact, anything you do on the lines of nerdy will be judged and judged harshly if your nerdliness isn't the same as my nerdliness. You will be placed firmly on the 'get a life' short bus with no hope of parole, unless you're a cleavage-enhanced ren-fair babe.

That said, as much as I like to read, and as much as I respect the art of the graphic artists who develop and refine fonts and nerdily enjoy when the books I read have a blurb about the font they used and who created it, some people really need to get a life.

There was an article on Time Magazine's web page last week about how Ikea fans and graphic designers AROUND THE WORLD are up in arms about the retail mogul's decision to standardize their font.

Apparently at Ikea's inception, they modified a standard font set, Futura, just enough to make it uniquely theirs, something that whispered 'Ikea' into the collective ears of the world, and have been using it in all official Ikea-font capacities for 60 years. Now, in order to standardize publishing worldwide, they've gone to (collective gasp here) VERDANA. The horror! A corporation standardizing in order to save money in these economically-troubling times?

(I should note here that I am an economics nerd. Big time. I should note here, also, that Verdana is also my choice of fonts when I write these little tomes for you, oh faithful reader. Please don't think any less of me for choosing to dumb down my font choice to something so mundane. Perhaps you might like my blog more if I were to publish using this?)

But really. In this day and age, as much call as there is for graphic art and unique marketing tools, is it really earth-shattering that Ikea chose to use a standard font to maybe, just maybe, save us all fifty cents on a Bjork table lamp? Do we need entire web forums dedicated to this madness? Apparently so.

To which I say, 'Get a life!'

Nerds.

Fun Fact Friday - I love rock and roll

So my nerdilated life has hit a little speed bump (or traffic calming, if you will). I had a busy week, and the things I thought might be interesting to share really weren't, so you're getting more of a factlet clip show. Have a beer and make the best of it.

This week we mourn the passing of Les Paul, born in my one-time home town of Waukesha, WI, and inventor of the modern electric guitar. I had a guitar as a child, after I begged each Christmas for Santa or Jesus to drop one off for me. I loved my guitar, loved the way the strings squeaked as I ran my hand up the ridges and tightened them. However, being fat-handed and unmotivated, I made it through one makeshift lesson with the neighbor before I gave up on the whole thing. For the next 25 years, my 'axe' went from home to home with me, until our move to Florida meant some drastic purging of childhood embarassment and the guitar went to Goodwill. In reading about electric guitars today, I decided that I really don't find them that interesting. Fail.

This Sunday, in addition to being my mom's birthday, is the anniversary of the King's untimely 'death' in 1977 (or was it?) As the King of Rock 'n' Roll, with roots in rockabilly (which itself is seeing a recent resurgence, according to the AirTran magazine I read on yesterday's flight), proceeded to offend God-fearing conservatives everywhere while hanging with Ann-Margaret and Richard Nixon. Cool guy, you bet. Worth a whole Triple-F entry to himself? Doubtful.

My next thought was to share with you the exciting history of the jukebox. Apparently, the Jook was a dance back in the day, but I didn't feel like finding out what kind. Beyond that, coin-operated stereos, sounds like a specialized vending machine to me. Didn't we already do that?

Finally, for some unknown reason, I figured I'd research the fun, extensive history of goldfish crackers. Pepperidge Farms makes the little critters, and I love them, but really. Crackers?

I think maybe I'll just go have a beer.

Beer me!

Eager to jump on any health trend that works in my favor ("Bacon prevents Alzheimers! Couch Potatoes Live Longer!"), I feel compelled to share the following article.

Study:Guinness Good For the Heart

So, go have a pint! I'm off to encourage the addition of stout to our company wellness program.

Sláinte Mhath!

Apostrophical Power

So it's Tuesday, not WeNerdsDay, but after perusing my homepage and seeing how many news stories are using apostrophes in the headlines I thought I'd mention it here.

I have been a grammar nerd from time to time, and certainly have been on the side of the righteous when it comes to the its/it's debate, but this is larger than that. Perhaps sarcasm doesn't need its own font (though I still like the concept of reverse italics), it just needs apostrophes.

Simply by applying apostrophes to a simple headline, the whole meaning is brought into question. It's the little differences. Example:

The new retirement plan versus The new 'retirement' plan

The whole meaning is brought into question. Amazing how two little marks can introduce so much doubt, suspicion or doublespeak to a simple sentence.

Iran 'releases 140 demonstrators' versus Iran releases 140 demonstrators

Really, if you were a demonstrator, which headline would you prefer?

I will be stocking up on bacon until the situation improves

I was nearly in applewood-smoke-induced tears last evening, when I saw that Patrick Cudahy, bacon and ham purveyor extraordinaire in Cudahy, WI was engulfed in flames for several days. It is a sad, sad day when children may have to go hungry for lack of pre-cooked bacon in their parents' grocery stores.

I like bacon. Truly, truly, enjoy it. My favorite recipes involve bacon, like this one from my other blog. I have travelled to Rome for the simple joy of spaghetti carbonara. I buy impulse items at the grocery store and unhealthy restaurants based solely upon the word 'bacon' in the name. I'm jealous of my friend Lisa who received this for a birthday gift one year.

Strangely, though, what concerns me more, being as I am an uncompassionate fat guy, is that the loss of pre-cooked bacon doesn't concern me nearly as much as the jobs of those employees, and the fate of one of my childhood icons, with their holiday jingle running through my head even as you read this. And at the same time, to think that a fire that burned for days, consumed millions of gallons of water just to mock the efforts of 27 fire departments, that nobody was injured in all of that.

Kind of makes me want some bacon.