This is my blogchalk: United States, New Hampshire, Seacoast,
English, Male.
This is the end...
Okay, the new server is up and running and seems to be widely accessible. I've archived this bloggy here. From now on, my posts will appear on the all new Be Less Boring.
Well, the domain info is still propagating around, so you can't resolve the new domain from everywhere yet. It was working fine in my office for a while, but now it's not. It should be all better in a day or two.
You might not believe this, but several years ago I had a girlfriend. Yes, yes, as hard as it is to believe, it is true. Well, once upon a time she and I had a discussion about certain nursary rhymes. Well, I never read Mother Goose when I was a kid, but I do remember hearing some of the rhymes when I was very little. So, when this particular conversation came up, I stated my version of a Mother Goose classic and she insisted that I had it wrong. Well, it turned into a bit of an arguement. It wasn't a serious one, but we were definitly both convinced we were right. You know how that is. She showed me a fabric version she had from her childhood that had one version of the nursary rhyme. I went online and found several sites that had something closer to the version I learned. So, it seemed we were both right or both wrong.
Yesterday I happened across the Real Mother Goose and found that same nursery rhyme, except it was essentially the version my ex-girlfrend insisted was correct. Well, I consider Mother Goose to be the authority on nursery rhymes, so now I find myself having to admin that I was mistaken and she was right. Elaine, wherever you are, you were right. I was misinformed. I'm sorry for doubting you.
PAT-A-CAKE
Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake,
Baker's man!
So I do, master,
As fast as I can.
Pat it, and prick it,
And mark it with T,
Put it in the oven
For Tommy and me.
Sunday morning marks the end of the annual period known as Daylight Saving Time. I wish we could pick one time standard or the other. I'm not alone in that wish. Switching back and forth is annoying and stupid. Some places have the good sense not to bother with it at all. "Daylight Saving Time, for the U.S. and its territories, is NOT observed in Hawaii, American Samoa, Guam, Puerto Rico, the Virgin Islands, most of the Eastern Time Zone portion of the State of Indiana, and the state of Arizona (not the Navajo Indian Reservation, which does observe)." However, since we have to do it, you might as well try to make the best of it.
It has been snowing out most of this morning. No accumulation yet, but it's only a matter of weeks or even days until there is. Are you ready for winter yet?
Okay, I had a good laugh over this site in the last post, but then I started thinking about it and it's really frightening that there are people in the world who think like that. This is the reason I gave up on Christianity and organized religion in general. I found there were just too many spiteful, bigoted, vindictive people who called themselves Christians and draped themselves in a cloak of self-righteousness.
Christianity, like most major religions, preaches tolerance, acceptance, peace and love at its core. Unfortunately, many people twist it into a tool of hatred, distrust, intolerance, and spite. That seems to be what Christina has been taught to do. That's just wrong, but Christians certainly don't have an exclusive on that--Osama bin Laden is doing the same kind of thing in his Muslim faith. The Muslim religion preaches essentially the same ideals as the Christian religion, but with a somewhat different foundation.
Maybe instead of having freedom of religion in this country we should have freedom from religion. I have nothing against spirituality and, in fact, do have a very spiritual side. I just don't like the zealotry, bigotry, and hatred that go with most organized religions. I say "most" because I really do hope there are some religions out there that do not have that side, but I haven't found one yet, though everyone claims theirs is the one.
You're the sad smile,the one that regrets nearly everything and is constantly wondering about what could have been.You're not happy with your situation and usually blame yourself because of the bad things that have happened.Cheer up.
"And The Dragon seperated the virtuous from the sinful. He tore his eyes from his sockets and used them to peer into the souls of those on trial to make a judgement. He knew that with endless knowledge came endless responsibility."
Some examples of the Dragon Form are Athena (Greek), St. Peter (Christian), and Surya (Indian). The Dragon is associated with the concept of intelligence, the number 5, and the element of wood. His sign is the crescent moon.
As a member of Form 5, you are an intelligent and wise individual. You weigh options by looking at how logical they are and you know that while there may not always be a right or wrong choice, there is always a logical one. People may say you are too indecisive, but it's only because you want to do what's right. Dragons are the best friends to have because they're willing to learn.
That last post was, of course, a joke. I can think of lots of things to say about me. Just ask me sometime.
Work on the new website is progressing slower than I'd hoped, but it is progressing. Watch for the announcement when it goes online, hopefully very soon.
Aside from that, I finished up one class Monday night. Next week is the midterm exam in my other class. I plan to skip it. Sometimes you've just got to say skip the test!
Christine: hey! i learned something! nifty.
Unchosen: congratulations! I'll mark the calendar.
Christine: oh, wait. nevermind. i knew that already. just a different way of doing it. darn.
Sharpen your pencils, refill your pens, or put a new toner cartridge in your printer. National Novel Writing Month is just around the corner.
I'm planning to write a story about a guy who can't think of anything to write so he writes a story about a guy who can't think of anything to write so he writes a story about a guy who can't think of anything to write....
I almost stopped at a green light on the way to work this morning. I was in my pre-caffeine stupor and I'm so used to all the lights always being red that I just didn't know what to do when I came upon one that was actually green.
Though this article may be a forgery, it still sounds like good advice to me. You can't be to careful when it comes to breast cancer, ladies. It's worth a try, right? I'm willing to do my part to help you out. Afterall, your health is important to me.
When you're four years old, there's almost nothing in the world you can call your own. Maybe you've got a teddy bear or other stuffed animal, a doll or a Tonka truck, and a small security blanket you tote around everywhere with you like Linus from the Peanuts cartoons. Maybe it's only because you've got so few things but everyone of them is precious to you. Every item in your miniscule inventory of belongings is like a part of you. Lose one piece and it hurts more than any spanking.
The blanket, especially, is priceless to you. It's your shield against everything bad in the world. If you're cold, you wrap yourself in it and it keeps you warm. If you're scared, you hide under it or behind it. If you're lonely, you hold it close and feel comforted by it. Maybe you wear it like a cape and it makes you feel like a superhero. No matter what is going on, you've got a companion as long as that blanket is with you. It's your best friend, your protector, your confidant, when you're four.
Then one day some misguided adult whom you've been taught to trust, a grandmother, perhaps, decides you're too old to have a blanket. Maybe she tries to convince you to give it up. When that doesn't work, she tries to take it by force. It's surprising how strong a four year old can be when you try to take his most precious possession, so she doesn't get it. Then she ridicules you for carrying a blanket and tries to convince you that everyone is laughing at you for carrying it. "Big boys don't need blankets," she says. You resist. Giving away the blanket would be like cutting off your own arm.
Finally she gives up, but then comes back later with another devious ploy. "Let me wash it," she says, "it's filthy."
"Is not," you say defiantly.
"Come on, it is, look at it. Just let me wash it and you can have it right back," she says.
After much goading, you agree to let her wash it. She gleefully takes it away in the direction of the laundry room while you make an effort to find something else to do while waiting for the blanket to be washed.
Some time later you realize you're missing the blanket. You go looking for it and realize the washing machine isn't running. There's nothing hanging on the clothesline. She doesn't have a dryer. The tension rises in your head. Your neck muscles tighten. Your heart beats faster. You run to the woman who took your blanket, nay your best friend, and ask where the blanket is. "Oh, I threw it out," she says nonchalantly. Stunned, you can't speak. You feel the tears start to well up in your eyes. You run to the nearest trash can and dig through it. There's no blanket. You run around the house tearing through every wastebasket, but still no blanket. You run outside, under the porch, and dig through the big, metal cans, but still no blanket. You run back to the woman on the verge of panic and tell her you've checked every trash can, but can't find the blanket. "What did you do with it?" you plead. "Give it back to me."
She rolls her eyes, sighs, and says, "I burned it."
"No," you say incredulously, "I want it now. Give it back to me!"
"I can't, I burned it. It's gone," she states and lights a cigarette.
You run down to the basement to try to get to the woodstove, but the door is locked. You run back upstairs and beg her to let you into the basement to get it back. You don't believe it's gone.
"No," she says, "you'll get burned."
"Please!", you beg.
"No."
You run off by yourself and cry the rest of the day. You refuse to eat because you're sick to your stomach and in mourning. She gets concerned and tries to force you to eat, but you won't. You choke on everything she tries to shove in your mouth and spit it back out. She gives up and leaves you alone. You never really trust another person as long as you live. You see that woman buried in her grave and can't find it in your heart to forgive her for lying to you. You might have forgiven her destroying your blanket, but not the lie. You never forget that incident.
She taught you some valuable lessons. She taught you not to trust anyone, not to let anything of yours out of your sight--ever, and that anything you own, no matter how much you love it, need it, and value it, can be taken away at any moment in time and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it. She taught you lessons no four year old should ever have to learn. There's plenty of time to learn that life sucks later on.
It's very wrong to do that to a kid. Let them live in the illusion that the world is good for as long as possible. There's no good reason not to. Be cruel to other adults if you must, but leave the kids alone.
My plea for lurker identification has already been greeted with one, albiet anonymous, response. That's very good. I hope the rest of you come forward and let me know what you think. That's what the confessional is for. I crave feedback. It's what keeps me going here. I don't read the blather I put up here. I already know it before I write it, so, if not for your entertainment, there's really no reason for me to keep doing it. If people like it and let me know that, I'll keep doing it. If I get enough feedback, it might motivate me to write more original stuff like I used to do. I haven't had much time or motivation to do that lately, but if my adoring fans (that's you) shower me with praise (or at least the occasional chuckle and pat on the back), I'll make time to do it.
I've been thinking about making some changes to the bloggy, too. Perhaps moving it to another site and combining it with some of my other ecclectic creations. What do you think? If you have suggestions for things I can do with it or other things I can do online, let me know.
Then again, maybe you're all just coming here for the awesome collection of cartoon links over on the left. That's what I come here for.
I was busy last night and didn't have time to post the Friday Five.
1. Do you watch sports? If so, which ones? Not if I can avoid it. If you've seen one game, you've seen them all.
2. What/who are your favorite sports teams and/or favorite athletes? When I was a kid, I was into hockey. I was mostly a Montreal Canadians fan. It was, afterall, the closest professional team to where I grew up. I was also into auto racing for a while, too. I'm not sure I really had a favorite driver other than a local guy named Mike Rowe who seemed to be pretty good.
3. Are there any sports you hate? Football, golf, baseball, basketball, basically any professional sports. If you get paid to play it, it's a job, not a game, and I just don't see the point of it.
Oh look, that guy is going to throw the ball. And now that other guy is going to catch it while a bunch of other guys chase him and try to intercept the ball. Now they're all running down the field. See them run. Run, Spot, run. Okay, now let's watch them do it again. And guess what, they'll do it again and again tomorrow and next weekend, and don't forget every Monday night. *yawn* Oh yeah, and they get paid millions of dollars to do that.
4. Have you ever been to a sports event? Yes. I've been to a few hockey games and I used to go to the local race track sometimes when I was a kid. I even went to a Curling playoff once. That was pretty dull.
5. Do/did you play any sports (in school or other)? How long did you play? I think the only sports I ever really enjoyed playing were ping pong, foozball and volleyball. I was pretty good at ping pong for a while, but I haven't played in decades. I never got to play much volleyball but I enjoyed it whenever I did. I had a brief but stellar career as a foozball goalie for a couple of years in college. We played street hockey a lot around the neighborhood when I was growing up, too.
Okay, I asked earlier who you all are, but nobody's talking. Talk to me, people. Don't make me hunt you down. I can, you know. Yes, you from Verizon.net, I'm talking to you. And you, the new people from attbi.com. And you from Adelphia.net. I've noted your repeated visists of late and I want to welcome you all to this mad house I call my little bloggy. My other regulars have all made themselves known, so it's time for you new folks to step up to the mic and introduce yourselves. Speak, Ubu, speak!
As if there weren't enough reasons to ban cell phones, how's this for a reason? Cell phones explode and burn users! Think about that the next time you're running someone off the road because you're yakking on your cell phone and not paying attention to driving.
Okay, I've been noticing a lot of repeat visitors to the bloggy lately. Today I also noticed that someone from the local paper found it by searching specifically for "be less boring blog". Who are you people and what are you doing here? Come on, use the confessional at the end of each post to tell us all a little about yourselves.
What with all the John Kerry ads on TV lately, I've noticed that he has that look that would make him perfect for work in horror movies. Just look at this picture from his website. Doesn't he look like a Frankenstein type monster? And that's without make-up!
So Christine and I were IMing about a new index of local bloggers that's just come online and the conversation went something like this (the usernames have been changed to protect the guilty):
Unchosen: http://seacoast.kreblog.com/ somebody is making a voluntuary index of local bloggers
Christine: interesting
Unchosen: small list so far, but I guess they just announced it yesterday
Unchosen: and, of course, there are people like me who prefer to remain anonymous
Christine: so you want me to submit your blog?
Unchosen: not unless you want me to set up [christine]blog and start creating posts about you. :P
Christine: there already is one. its at belessboring.blogspot.com
Somebody found my blog by searching for "Pictures of organized laundry rooms." Huh? I don't even have a laundry room, nor would it be likely to be very organized even if I did. Weird. Very weird.
You are a geek liaison, which means you go both ways. You can hang out with normal people or you can hang out with geeks which means you often have geeks as friends and/or have a job where you have to mediate between geeks and normal people. This is an important role and one of which you should be proud. In fact, you can make a good deal of money as a translator.
Normal: Tell our geek we need him to work this weekend.
You [to Geek]: We need more than that, Scotty. You'll have to stay until you can squeeze more outta them engines!
Geek [to You]: I'm givin' her all she's got, Captain, but we need more dilithium crystals!
You [to Normal]: He wants to know if he gets overtime.
I spent approximately three hours today trying to debug a networking problem that one of our managers reported. I could reproduce the problem easily. He was simply trying to do a traceroute from a PC to anywhere in the internet and it would fail after it got to the gateway. I spent hours analyzing and tweeking the firewall and the routers trying to figure out what the problem was with no luck. Then I happened to try a traceroute from a linux system on the same subnet and it worked. Then I tried it from a Solaris system and it worked. Then I tried it from a Windows system and it failed. Then I tried it from a different Windows system that was on a different subnet and didn't go through that router or firewall and it failed. Seems like it works great from every Linux and Unix system I try, but fails after 2 hops from every Windows system I try.
I told the manager to get a real operating system.
Friday was my parents' 50th wedding anniversary. Can you believe that, fifty years together? I'm fairly certain none of their kids will ever even come close to that record. Most of us haven't even managed to make it to 50 seconds of marriage, let alone fifty years.
To celebrate, we got the whole family together for the first time since my sister's wedding about 5.5 years ago, and went on a cruise to Nova Scotia. Let me tell you, it's damn hard to get my family to agree on a time to get together. The trip was originally supposed to have been back in August, but there were too many conflicts. However, this is what my parents wanted to do and they insisted on paying for it, so I goaded my siblings until they all conceded to a 3-day weekend that happened to coincide with their anniversary. We set sail aboard the Scotia Prince at 8 p.m. and docked in Yarmouth, NS, at 7 a.m. We checked into a hotel, then drove the scenic route up to Digby, looked around the town, did a little shopping, had lunch, then came back to Yarmouth. By then it was late afternoon and most of the shops in Yarmouth were closed, as were most of the touristy sites, so we didn't get to see all that much there.
We had a big, formal dinner, gave the folks lots of presents and made merry. Then it was off to bed by 11 p.m. to get up for 5 a.m. to have breakfast and get back on the boat for the return home.
Going through Canadian Customs was a piece of cake. Going through U.S. Customs is a pain in the ass. The computers kept locking up every time they tried to look up any info on anyone, so it took forever to get through the line. Really, they aren't doing anything to assure security, they're just being annoying. They might as well not be there at all, for all the good they did. They asked us where we were born. Hey, if you were a criminal or a terrorist, would you tell the truth? Um, I don't think so. So what's the point of asking?
So, that was the weekend in a nutshell. I played the slot machines on the boat for the first time in my life. I dumped $6 into them and lost it all. I really don't see why people think that's so much fun. I could have just thrown my money over the side of the boat and had about as much amusement. I guess I wasn't cut out to be a gambler. I bought a shirt, a bottle of cognac, a box of tea, and one of those little rubber water balls that they're trying to outlaw in the US because dumbass kids keep strangling themselves with them. That was about it.
Yarmouth and Digby and the towns in between seem nice. Real Estate is relatively cheap up there, but that commute would kill me.
I took all the Canadian quarters I've gotten over the past year or so and spent them all up there. I don't want to spend them here because then they'll just keep circulating around and come back to me again, and they're useless to me. Sure, I can use them at the toll booth, but tokens are cheaper. Aside from that, US vending machines generally don't take Canadian quarters, so they're useless to me. Still, I had about $12 worth that I've received over the past year and couldn't use here.
I guess I had a good time. I didn't get nearly enough sleep and was way too rushed, but it was an interesting trip. I might do it again if I had someone to go with, but I'd want to spend more time in the Province and probably go a little earlier in the year when there's more stuff to do and temperatures are a little warmer.
I'm back. Did you miss me? I went to Nova Scotia. One day really isn't enough to see much of anything. Oh well, c'est la vie. Maybe I'll write more about it later.
We had a couple working here a few years ago who had a huge break-up. They were saying nasty stuff about each other for weeks and each went off seeing other people. The woman graduated and went off to grad school somewhere else far away. The guy stayed here, joined ROTC, and kept working on his studies. Eventully he left. I'm not sure if he graduated or what because he wasn't working for us anymore. It would have been within the past 6 months that he left.
We just got word that the two of them are not only back together but are married. After the way they broke up and the fact that they weren't even on speaking terms the last time I saw either of them, it was quite a surprise to hear that. I wonder how long it will last. His first marriage ended when he was 19, so his track record isn't so good. I wish them luck!
You'd think that, since I'm a very single male, that I'd be flattered whenever I notice a cute girl checking me out. In most cases, you would be right. However, it happened this week that I noticed a cute (albeit too skinny) girl checking me out and I was rather frightened, instead. The reason is that she was standing at the bus stop. The school bus stop. With the other kids going to school. I'm figuring she was about 13 or 14. It's true what they say, 16 will get you 20. I think it's also true that 13 will get you life. Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not a bass player, so there are no 13 year olds in my future, thanks.
Now, if there are any cute women over 18 out there who want to check me out, I highly encourage that.
