05.28.2003
Faux Cheetos
I recently re-enjoyed the Shipping News starring the incredible Kevin Spacey and Judi Dench. It's
a tale of growth and renewal in harsh climates. Very interesting. I also re-watched Snake Eyes with Nicholas Cage, again realizing why I don't really enjoy the movie. It fails to be monumental, to build compassion for the characters, and have an elevating moment. The only item of note is the intro sequence, all fifteen minutes of it, which is essentially all a single shot. That's neat-o!
So, I've switch grocery stores. Tops is my regular market now, after I purchased ground beef from Giant Eagle only to find they wrapped fresh red beef around old brown beef. Maybe that's a common practice, but it ticked me off. If you're going to purposely deceive someone, just throw the meat away.
So I'm now at Tops for a short time. They have a crappy selection of foods and most of my famous maker brands are absent. Plus the family will revolt soon due to the fact that they don't carry Vanilla filled chocolate poptarts which is to our family what milk and bread are to other families.
But they do have Cheetos. Cheetos being the name that the gang has given Corn Twistees. Do they like actually Cheetos? No. Corn Twistees, for the uninitiated, is the cheesy, corn puffs that boast the 'melt in your mouth' flavor. How a flavor can be an action, I have no idea, but there you are.
Oh, and I'm also enjoying, again, Half-Life. If you've never played the single player game, I must say its story and game play far rival what's out even today. The scope of the story and the methods used to pull you in is super, all without sacrificing action gameplay. I've just completed a level where you ride around on a motorized, tracked cart, pegging track switching signs and gunning military. The story is advanced on this level via radio messages overheard on dead soldiers' radios.
I'm also frustrated with people and things that are slow. When I was in London for business, I had to consciously slow myself down. We had to discuss sporting events and have tea prior to actually getting work done. I was primed to get my stuff done, and they wanted to know if I took cream with my earl
gray (sometimes) or sugar (never).
Magic the Gathering is making a comeback. My brother's passion for searching out cards from various sources has renewed itself. But, much like a deadbeat dad, he ignores the thousands of cards he already has.~Sniggle
_____________
05.13.2003
I
Get Knocked Down
I heard a rather haunting
story on NPR this weekend about a high school student who attempted to kill
himself several times. One time he tried to cut himself with a knife,
but he fell asleep and the blood clotted. He couldn't cut deep
enough. Another time he tried to hang himself, but the rope wasn't short
enough, so he eventually just stood up. Finally, he doused a bathrobe in
gasoline, sat in the tub, and lit himself on fire. He eventually panicked
and turned on the shower, but only after suffering severe burns over most of
his body. I suppose the glib remark is to say that this characteristic
of most suicide prone individuals. They give up. So that's the
thought, then. Why do people give up? Not just as far as living,
but with anything? I mean, I spent a couple hours today trying to get a
@#$@* scanner to work. I didn't give up. I'm not saying that the
fact I banged my head against a desk for hours is somehow more noble than just
saying F@#$@ it. Or is it?
Giving
up is the hallmark, I've found, of quite a few people. There's a
problem, they look at it for a minute or two, and give up. Don't confuse
giving up with setting something aside for the moment. Don't confuse it
with boredom, either. But giving up, saying, gee, this is too hard for
me, is the difference.
And,
The
only difference between those that succeed and those who do not is that those
who succeed do not give up. Period. It's not talent, intelligence,
strength, or charisma (+2!). It's just raw will.
So
things get difficult in life. Things get enormously difficult in
life. They suck holy hell. What are you going to do? You
know, I'm amazed at the number of people who 'don't want to get hurt'.
At what point is someone going to walk up to you and say, 'good job, you
hardly got hurt at all in life'? Who came up with the theory that the
point in life is to get hurt the least? There are those, myself among
them, who may say that getting hurt is a sign that you're still alive.
(Unless you have the weakest ego or low self-esteem and can't take a
joke. Or think everything is because of you. Then you get hurt way
too often. Lighten up.)
So
don't give up. (P. Gabriel.) You have friends. Sheal and I
are certainly in that number if you're reading this.
There's
a saying about a ship being safe in the harbor but that's not what ships are
for. I'm not sure what that has to do with this, but I like boats.
Keep
going.~Sniggle
_____________
04.15.2003
No
Lo Mein, just ramblin' thoughts
Okay, welcome back. I
drove for a total of ten hours the past couple of days. It really helped
remind me of how important it is in this life to take some time away from
everything and just spend time with yourself. It really helps re-align
things and gain some focus. I think this world is jam-packed with
stimuli and all of these sources competing for your attention. Just look
at all the crap you get in the mail. Even legitimate bills come with
glossy pages advertising custom address labels or Norwegian Sheep for venture
capital.
Speaking
of perspective, I spent some more time working with the characters from a book
I've had in my mind for too long. I managed to take some high-res photos
of them. (Rather, pictures of pictures of them) They were drawn by
Al F of www.monkey-bars.net
fame. I don't even know if he still remembers. Some are a bit
different from the image I have in my mind, but it's a sweet starting
point. (The guy is immensely talented.)
Check
out Ben, Finn, Tristen,
and Trilla.
Part
of the writing process is placing the characters in a situation and then
letting them take it from there. Each character, when faced with the
exact same circumstances, will react differently. Discovering what
exactly they'd do is one of the great joys of writing, particularly when it
isn't something that has ever occurred to you.
Speaking
of occurrence, it is getting to be spring. I keep checking the trees to
see the bud nubs beginning to emerge. I'm always amazed at the
differences in things because of the seasons. For instance, at this
point in time, I've been looking at my backyard neighbor's house for many
months. But as soon as the leaves bloom, it will disappear, only to be
viewed in small sections when the wind blows throughout the summer. Such
mystery occurs in spring.
Spring
also brings us insects. I've decided, and am comfortable with, the fact
that I am an insect and arachnid sissy. This is a luxury I take.
If I'm going to kill something, I need multiple wads of tissue or, better yet,
paper towels, so I at least can feel the crunching of the bug's
exoskeleton. I'm trying to be more merciful for spiders, but sometimes,
they just get too rambunctious. Then they face the almighty tread of the
Sketcher.
So,
I guess there isn't a cohesive theme today. Just, enjoy the weather,
enjoy who you are, and start clearing away a work area, figuratively or
literally, for some of those projects / dreams you've been putting off.
Talk
to you soon.~Sniggle
_____________
03.02.2003
Lo Mein Part II is Coming.
Until then...
We’ve been duped.
We’ve purposely let them pull the proverbial wool over our far-sighted
eyes. (tangent - I hate when
people ask me if I’m near sighted or far sighted.
First, I can’t remember worth a damn which is which, and secondly,
mind your own business. I can’t
see a F@#$ thing, okay. That’s
not enough for you, you have to find out the specific details of my disability
as well. Freak.
Go checkout a traffic accident or something.) Flip on the TV and watch
all channels vomit ‘reality’ TV. It’s
the latest craze since turning on electric lights at night.
Whee! Thrill to people
marrying other people based on performance in such games as “Who can hide
more grapes in their bosom?” (winner: william t)
or “Guess the square millimeters that my string bathing suit covers”
Whee!
Thrill to people fighting with other people to win in a series of feats
of strength, mind, and savvy. Whoa!
This is totally new stuff. They’ve
never had anything like this before. ‘Sides:
Candid Camera, the News, or ANY FRICKIN GAME SHOW.
These things have the following in common:
Making money is the absolute primary goal.
Uh, sure, none of what happens is scripted or modified or warped in
post. Uh, sure, it’s about ‘real’ people. Sure, the producers of the show only make “upwards of 800% more
than they would on a standard sitcom.”*
So while we’re sitting there, betting
on who he’ll pick, tightly gripping our microwave popcorn (tangent -
microwave popcorn is pretty gross. If
you actually look at it in the package, you’ll see that it’s kernels of
corn embedded in a block of butter substitute.
If you’re ever in a pinch, that syntha-lard can be used to make
fabric waterproof.) hoping that your team will win, just take a moment and
think about why you’re watching. What
are you hoping to gain? Happiness?
Joy at the comparison of your
life and those on the telly? You
want reality, flip off the tube. Take
a moment to play a computer game or something.
Now there’s reality. Hmm.
Sounds like fun. I, uh, I gotta go.
*someone
from this one thing that they said and...oh, look it up your damn self.~Sniggle
02.18.2003
Lo Mein Kills (part 1)
There's a rumor that somewhere, amidst the jungle of retail and commercial establishments, there's a place where the customer is right. A place where the store / shop / salesperson goes out of their way to make sure you, as a customer, as a direct contributor to their monetary future, are delighted. This place, like Brigadoon, lies shrouded in mystery, only appearing for brief, fleeting moments, and then vanishing indefinitely. The loss of this place has been felt acutely by myself in the following incident, coincidentally, involves Asian cuisine.
My lovely wife and I were vacationing in scenic Beechwood, Ohio (Home of the Troubadours) over the past weekend. As anyone who lives or works in Beechwood can tell you, one of the best places to go for dinner is the local Bennihana's (or Benny – Ha Ha's as my mother-in-law pronounces it). They are known for the delicious 'Japanese' cuisine and the hilarious hi-jinxes of the cook who grills everything at your table. The cooking becomes entertainment. All for a modest price of $50 per couple pre-tip. Naturally, I called as soon as I got into town.
"Good evening, I was wondering how busy you were tonight." I inquired when they picked up the telephone. "Very busy. Very very busy." the voice on the other end said forcefully. "Would I be able to make a..." "No! Very busy." "Okay, how about tomorrow night? Can I..." "Good-bye." I starred at the phone. He did not just hang up on me.
Foolishly, I called back. "HelloI'dliketomakeareservationforfourtomorrownight" I fired as soon as he answered the phone. "Very busy. Four or nine-thirty." That's how busy they were? Wow. "I guess I'll take four. Four at four. Heh
heh" "Bye. Wait. What name?" Assuming he was implying the 'is your', I said my last name. He hung up.
The next day, at a quarter to four, we showed up at the restaurant. It was nestled in an office building. Fortunately, we had to go downstairs to the restaurant. They'd deco'ed the walls with faux stone and had dripping water and a three-inch pond that ran under the steps and around parts of the restaurant. This sounds cool, and it is until you've looked at it for about twenty seconds. Then you start to realize things like the fact that there's black algae growing throughout it, the edges of wood paneling to keep the water in are broken off, and there's a sign asking parents to attend their children when they look at the pond. Pond is not the right word. Extended puddle.
The woman who greeted us asked if we had reservations. We did, I said. I gave her our name and she told me it wasn't there. I told her it was for four o'clock. She said she didn't have it. Then she asked my name again, I told her, and she said oh, here it is. "Wait in the bar. We serve at one." I'm not joking, that's what she said. We waited in the bar area.
After about fifteen minutes, we noticed people walking in and going right to a table. Why aren't we at a table, people were asking me. They obviously thought I was an expert here. So we ambled by the entrance lobby. They decided to tell us to sit down at a table. A table for six that they'd put eight seats around.
So, after soup, we had salad. Now, after spending a seafood-fraught evening at the Chinese New Year celebration the weekend prior, I'd gained a moderate level of skill with chopsticks. Naturally, I wanted to flaunt this skill. Unfortunately, our small table space (due to the novelty- inducing grill) we didn't have a lot of space for our salad bowls. In the spirit of general welfare, we all stack our bowls and set them at the corner of the table. The corner to my left. And I'm left-handed. Friends, you cannot, no matter how you try, eat with chopsticks, left-handed, with a stack of eight salad bowls off your left elbow.
But, the server would get them removed, right? Or the cook would see the bowls and have them removed before he started flipping shrimp tails in his pocket, right? Wrong. Fifteen minutes of tenuous bowls sitting next to me passed before those were moved. I was seriously contemplating hiding them under our table.
When the food was done being cooked, our guy left. Instantly, the server appeared asking if he could box anything. Literally, I had a full plate of food and he was trying to box people's meal. The place wasn't that crowded yet, but we had to hurry up. And like an idiot, I tipped as well. But I had the last laugh. I took a handful mints on my way out. Way more than they'd want me too.
I paid for it, though. I was nominated to run out in the 2 degree weather to pickup the car. <Sigh.>
To be continued...
_____________
02.06.2003
DIYDS
It occurs to me of late that our society (or at least some of my colleagues) have this tendency towards learned helplessness. Or re-enforced laziness. It seems like whenever an obstacle occurs, some / most people just stand there for a second, befuddled, and then try to wander over to someone to get help. "Uh, gee, it's not working." "What's not working?" "The thing." "Oh. Why's that?" "I don't know." "What are you doing when you get an error?" "I can't tell." "What's the error?" "I don't know." "Go away."
There's something to be said for intelligently evaluating a situation and looking for a solution. Some people will try to figure, based on the information given, what's going on and some possible things to try. Others just pout and ask for help. That's the other thing, the poutiness. Of freakin' course something will go wrong. I hate to say this but just about at every opportunity, something can and quite likely will go wrong. That's the nature of work / play / love / life / utility bills / shoes / placing peanut butter on graham crackers / swing the snow shovel by your car / smoking / drinking / chewing gum / sneezing / squashing spiders / using forward slashes / telling a joke about the Quicky Mart in an Indian accent in front of someone you later realize is Indian / tickling mental patients / and using periods in sentences
At some point, you just get frustrated with the whole thing. Example – "I would like for you to create a document. I'm giving you a sample of the first page. I would like the rest of the document to look like this. Let me know when you are finished."
Here's the sample
Here's the result
So you ask them why and they don't know. They thought that was what you wanted.
This is the reason why the rest of us just cut bait, tell the person to dust the windowsills, and do it our damn selves. ~Sniggle
_____________
09.06.2002
The Damn Best Buy Show
It must be a thing with me and commercial establishments. I swear this will be the last post for awhile about them.
It begins innocently enough. My printer ran out of ink. Realizing that another printer cartridge would run my about $32,
I decided I'd just go buy a printer for a few bucks more. After all, a printer comes with two (2) cartridges. Maybe if I was lucky,
some paper, too.
I went to Best Buy. The printer aisle isn't very large, as you either know or could imagine. Also, you'll have to keep
in mind the fact that the last time I was looking to buy a printer at Best Buy, the sales clerk tried to convince me to get a gold
plated printer cable. ("It'll reduce data loss," he said to me, as if I were 5 years old. "Right," I said, "I've been having
problems with large holes in my documents because the words got lost.") So, much to my chagrin, there were three, count them,
three people from Best Buy loitering in the aisle. They weren't doing ANYTHING except staring at me and every five minutes asking me
if I wanted help. "No, thanks, I'm fine. Please leave me alone and step aside so I can actually read the information about the printer."
After fifteen minutes of looking and being visually molested, I decided on a printer. Looking underneath the shelf, I saw a giant empty space
where the boxes for the printer should have been. Great.
Disgusted, I went to the only store slightly more frustrating than Best Buy, Compusa. There, I again found a desired printer and
no boxes with said printer. In defeat, I snagged a printer cartridge and headed to the checkout.
Okay. Let's say I'm the manager of a store. My goal is to have people buy things. Now, no matter where customers go in the store, if they're
going to purchase something (again, the whole reason why I have the damn store), then they're going to go through a check-out. So, during
a busy Friday night, how many cash registers are open? One. And the person four people in front of me has a question on the price
of a purchase, so the cashier makes a call on the overhead and we sit. I put my stuff down and exit the store. As I'm exiting, guess
how many people I see hanging around the entrance of the store to check people's receipts as they leave? Four.
If you've read this far, and your name isn't Bill, I applaud you and apologize for this rant. But, you see, it's just that I then
decided to go back to Best Buy. The same three people are STILL in the aisle, and welcome me back. I grab my stuff, head to a check out,
(again, they're filled, but at least there's three out of the twenty checkouts
running) and wait for fifteen minutes. Why? Because the cashier cons the person in front of me to buy an $8 warranty plan for his $50 Playstation One.
I just sigh and lean heavily against the counter, wondering why this has to happen.
See, there used to be this concept of service, I think. I mean, I remember all
of the business classes I took and the faux employee orientation I had at Holiday
Inn, and the notion that the customer was a prized commodity and service was king kept being touted. But now, where has it gone? Why?
Because there's no need for it. Both places treated me awfully, but will I go back there? Yes. Why? Because they're the only places around
to get this stuff at. Or they have lower prices. And there's the rub. The giant megastores take over, and they're the only game in town.
Doesn't matter how they treat you, you're still a slave to their store. You'll still wind-up with something you didn't really want
waiting behind someone who can't make up their mind on whether or not to believe the warranty scam.
Maybe I shouldl become a vigilante. Show up at my local store with a spiky baseball bat and make them take care of the customers and
have them apologize to people for lying about printer cables and warranty
programs. But then, I'D be the bad guy. Me. And all I wanted was a little service.~Sniggle
_____________
09.03.2002
The Grocery Store
I seem to spend quite a bit of time in the grocery store. Part of this is due to the fact that we never have a real fixed menu in the house.The other part is due to the fact that I invariably forget half of whatever
it was I was supposed to get. But, regardless of the cause, I still spend a lengthy amount of time in the grocery store.
As I stood there in line, I tried to figure out the formula for baggers. Now I don't know about your grocery store, but my grocery people
apparently believes that only 25% of all customers require bagging services. They figure the other 75% are suckers who will throw all
of their eggs and cleaning supplies in the bags themselves. Naturally, I tried to beat the system. It usually worked out to one bagging
and then two self-baggings. However, it appeared that a checkout clerk who the bagger considered cute, attractive, whatever, could change
the formula. But, this had no effect if it was almost closing time, in which case, it didn't matter who you were, you were putting it all in the
flimsy blue bags yourself.
But then, the day arrived when the checkouts on the far right-hand side of the store appeared...without clerks! Great! I cried. I can scan my
stuff in, and all of those excess people will be there, eagerly waiting for my groceries to come down the belt to bagging heaven. Like hell.
So now, not only do I have to ring up all of my own stuff, but I also have to get price checks, bag my own damn stuff, and wait forever to get
someone who can check my id for what little adult substances I buy. Where's the benefit? In the store owner and operators pockets. Those
machines cost a fortune at first, but then, it's all pure profit. Do our grocery bills go down? Do we get any more convenience? Nope.
Now you optimistic fools out there will say, "Well, it's great if you just have a few items and want to whip in and out." My response is a sad
shake of my head and a sigh. You poor sap. Maybe, just maybe, in
the first few weeks of those machines lives, that might have been possible.
But now that the mystique has worn off, every yokel who thinks he can walk upright stands there, starring at the screen and scratches his head.
Guess what makes them go faster? That's right, me. So now, not only do I have to scan my own stuff, bag my own things, pay absurd prices for
everything, and give them a card so they can track everything I purchase and send me coupons for stuff I'll never buy, but NOW I'm working for
the store for free, scanning people's things in and bagging them!
As I said, I spend quite a bit of time in the grocery store.
The first few weeks of those machines lives, that might have been possible.
But now that the mystique has worn off, every yokel who thinks he can walk upright stands there, starring at the screen and scratches his head.
Guess what makes them go faster? That's right, me. So now, not only do I have to scan my own stuff, bag my own things, pay absurd prices for
everything, and give them a card so they can track everything I purchase and send me coupons for stuff I'll never buy, but NOW I'm working for
the store for free, scanning people's things in and bagging them!
As I said, I spend quite a bit of time in the grocery store.~Sniggle
