enthusiastick: (the quiet)
[Error: unknown template qotd]That depends. Does knowing [livejournal.com profile] dystopiac count as "being prepared"?

(I mean, I guess I would have to demonstrate my usefulness to her. I'm given to understand that there are a limited number of spots on her Apocalypse Team.)
enthusiastick: (naota)
That's now twice in my life that I've been sitting in the passenger seat of a Volvo [livejournal.com profile] thablueguy was driving when some idiot smashed into us from behind at reckless speeds.

We're both fine, but the car is probably totaled.
enthusiastick: (shoot the moon)
Last night I got home from work and, after a small amount of putzing around, decided to put a load of laundry in the wash. By my reckoning I had just enough time to get it started before my weekly Steam & Cinders Directors' meeting was scheduled to start. The situation had gotten somewhat dire; I'm a typical guy, and require only socks, t-shirts and underwear in my day-to-day existence. T-shirts I had, but socks were running low, and underwear was tapped out, so laundry had become necessary.

The washer/dryer in my apartment's basement sort of sucks, but provided you do smallish loads it can be coaxed to work. I only had enough quarters for one load anyway, so I figured I would do one load as a stop-gap and then do some more laundry at some future date when things had calmed down some (ha!)

So I loaded up my dirty laundry into the bag and, as is typical for me, swapped stuff out of my pockets before heading to the basement. Typically I carry my wallet and cell phone in my pants pockets at all times. Both of these items were now tossed onto my bed. The wallet was replaced with quarters, and my cell phone made way for my house keys. My house keys generally live in my coat pocket, but the door to our back stairwell locks automatically, and I don't like to chance being locked out (and I don't usually throw my coat on to go to the basement and do laundry.)

My laundry got underway, as did the meeting. I excused myself about a half an hour in to move my one load from the washer to the dryer, then returned and put it out of my mind. Several hours later there's a break in the action, so I dart downstairs to grab my laundry, intending to come up and fold it as we wrap up the meeting. Only I don't need to fold it, because some compulsive and well-meaning neighbor of mine has already done so. The dryer had been finished for about two hours at that point, so it's unsurprising to me that someone had pulled my stuff out of there. I'm grateful that they folded it instead of just leaving it in a heap as I would have done, but it's a little unnerving and creepy to have your underwear folded by a stranger.

I didn't dwell on it at the time, though. Just hastily stashed the folded laundry in my room and returned to the common area to finish up the meeting.

Cut to this morning, when I am getting ready for work. Running a bit later than I intended, I scramble to make myself presentable and just get out the door. Pat down my pockets -- what the Hell, why are my keys in there? Oh, I guess I never swapped back from last night. OK, so keys go into my jacket pocket. Remaining quarters go back into the quarters bucket. There's my cell phone, and my iPod, and...

Hmmm.

Where the Hell is my wallet?

After checking several places where I normally stash my wallet, and then several others where I wouldn't normally put it but where it might logically end up, I still came up empty. In the lead-up to the first S&C event, [livejournal.com profile] thablueguy and I allowed our apartment to become something of a disaster area. It's not exactly filthy, just overwhelmingly messy and cluttered with crafting supplies and LARP-related paraphernalia. As a result of this my room's natural messiness has been kicked into overdrive. And so very quickly it dawned on me that, even though I'm highly confident my wallet is still in my apartment somewhere, a thorough top-to-bottom search for it was a fairly daunting and hopeless prospect.

Alternating periods of enraged frustration and stymied hopelessness ensued. In the end I grabbed some cash from my rainy day fund and came in to work late (which meant buying a Charlie Ticket, as my Charlie Card is, of course, in my wallet); I could have just worked from home, but I'm not confident I would have been able to stop myself from looking all day long enough to get any work done. In fact, if I had stayed home, in the end I probably would have flipped out and begun cleaning my room. Which would have been good -- it's unlikely to happen in the next few days otherwise -- but I have stuff to do at work and just couldn't accommodate that particular bout of crazy at this juncture.

I'm really hopeful that my wallet turns up quickly, when I get back to searching for it. I'm just trying to reassure myself that it will be OK. I'm calmer now than I was on my way to work, but even so, there's part of me that wants to blow off all my plans and just find the damn thing, if only for my peace of mind. But my wallet and it's contents are just things, in the end, and since I believe them to be still in my possession (even if I don't have them on hand at the moment) I am trying as hard as I am to chill out and live without them.
enthusiastick: (keywork)
I am having a weird few days.

Its the lulziversary. Never forget. 12 months later, and they're still calling it a hoax.

ZOMGWTFBBQ IT WAS NOT A HOAX.


ETA: Oh heck yes! My spirits have successfully been raised.

The Yankee Doodle closed. You Maniacs! You blew it up! Ah, damn you! God damn you all to Hell!

Man, even the ./shutdown season finale was a downer. Although it was still awesome. Y'know, like the Empire Strikes Back.
enthusiastick: (eclipse)
Ow my brain. Alright, so check out this optical illusion:

Click to see, but only if you've got some time on your hands and some headache pills handy. )

Is the figure spinning clockwise or anti-clockwise?

The correct answer is, apparently, both. It seems that most people, upon initially viewing it, get locked into seeing one direction or the other. Through concentration, however, its possible to jar your brain into "reversing" her spin. I will say that it took me a surprising while to get the flip to occur, and as of this posting I still can't do it consistently. There are a number of different tips and tricks available on the internet (focus on her foot, or on her outstretched hand, or view her with your peripheral vision, or try humming music or doing sums in your head) but honestly I think its just a question of training your brain.

Various websites and pop-media articles have attributed left-brain versus right-brain notions, depending upon which way you initially see her, but there doesn't seem to be any evidence to back that up, so I'm going to assume its garbage.
enthusiastick: (tenth doctor)
I just had the following thought and hereby wish to cite it as proof that I have been working in this place too long:

"When rating websites, the Japanese are like the Soviet judges at the Olympics."
enthusiastick: (season thing)
The weather is completely ridiculous today. Bright shining sun and blue skies, bone-chilling cold and gusts of wind that feel as if they could pluck you off the ground and deposit you somewhere in the next county. I am dreading the walk from work to the train station.

So there's a lot of hooplah in my office lately about having to install patches to accomodate the new start and end dates for Daylight Savings Time, because if we don't peoples' calendars will fail to synch up and there will be chaos. Its really only because of said hooplah that I am aware that DST is changing at all. Yesterday it occurred to me to actually ask the question of why DST was changing (if it ain't broke, right?) This led to some interesting revelations.

Apparently in 2005 a federal law was passed (the Energy Policy Act of 2005, in fact) which, among other things, futzes with Daylight Savings Time as an energy-saving measure. Traditionally (or in America since 1986, anyway) DST begins on the first Sunday in April and ends on the last Sunday in October. Starting this year, however, it will begin on the second Sunday in March (which is to say this weekend, March 11th) and end on the first Sunday in November. So it starts earlier and ends later. This in spite of the fact that there is a great deal of controversy as to whether DST actually conserves energy at all, particularly because its based upon a model that proceeds such innovations as air-conditioning.

This irks me, and not simply because I have to remember to change my clock or because the coming weekend is abruptly one hour shorter than I thought it was. Nor does it particularly bother me that basically every computer system everywhere is going to have to be patched to accomodate this change. No, it irks me mostly because, among other things, the bill describes this change as provisional. Contingent upon demonstrable energy savings. Which is to say after all this fuss and change there is a possibility that, in a year or two, when we discover that energy consumption did not go down (or, as some people are predicting, went up) everything will have to be changed back, necessitating further busywork.

More information on all this nonsense can be found here and here. And remember to "Spring forward" this Sunday. Or go on a clock-smashing rampage of mass hysteria that precipitates nationwide anarchy. Whatever, I don't even care anymore.
enthusiastick: (tuppin liberty)
Seriously Boston, what the Hell?

The ATHF fiasco was one thing. And make no mistake, it made it seem as though this city was run by idiots.

But earlier today the bomb squad blew up a traffic counter.
enthusiastick: (issues)
I've said it before and I'll likely say it again: my roommates are weird.


Directed by: [livejournal.com profile] war_pug
Screenplay by: [livejournal.com profile] onthejohn
Starring: Pete & Michelle

(I know, I know, this is the second video I've posted this week.)
enthusiastick: (both eyes)
OK, so... what the Hell, people? Seriously.

This is the third time I have commented on some creator I like and respect in the webcomics/blogosphere, only to have that person waltz by my podunk little blog unannounced and leave a comment. Once is understandable, and can be written off to chance and good fortune. And twice, well. [livejournal.com profile] demiurgent and [livejournal.com profile] weds are like Bradley Whitford and Matthew Perry -- they may not always have been together, but once you've had them as a pair you're never going to want them separately ever again. But three times? And [livejournal.com profile] rstevens? Seriously?

What the Hell?
enthusiastick: (Default)
I bought a soap dish yesterday. I was in that aisle anyway; I'd gone to the pharmacy because I needed shampoo, and while I was there I decided to acquire one of those little suction-cup-with-a-hook dealies so I could actually hang up my body sponge. And then I spotted the soap dish, a little white plastic affair designed to be mounted to a wall. Its packaging claims it utilizes a waterproof tile-friendly adhesive, which caught my eye, and on a whim I bought it.

The thing is, there is already a soap dish in my shower. Like most showers I have encountered that were constructed in the modern era, it came with one already installed into the tiles. And like in most showers the built-in soap dish, so apparently integral to its design, is in almost exactly the wrong place. Its near the taps which control the flow and temperature of the water, not quite directly beneath the shower head, but close enough as to make no difference.

Consequently any soap that gets left there ends up constantly wet, so that the outer layer turns to goop and the overall mass is eroded anytime someone uses the shower. My roommate Pete, with whom I share a bathroom, makes use of liquid soap, so that's approximately one shower's worth of bar-soap erosion per day. Now a normal, less neurotic person, might not be bothered by a thing like that, but I was.

In my estimation a soap dish has two jobs. Its first job is simple enough: it needs to be a place to put your soap where it won't fall into the tub, so that you can find it easily and not accidentally slip on it. But its second job is, ideally, to allow the soap to dry out when its not in use. This new dish is quite good at that job; in addition to being plastic the dish itself is perforated to allow water to drain out. And I have installed it up high, in the back corner of the shower, far out of range of the shower spray or any reasonable deflection of the spray by a human body.

Yesterday I hung my new soap dish in my shower, and the suction cup hook for my body sponge right next to it. Today I bought a telescoping rod to be installed in the doorframe of the door into my room. But that's another story.

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