Names & Labels… Labels & Names…

Baby Pink arrived the other day. No, not in that way… she is still snug inside Mrs. eSquared. What I mean is, anyone who looks can see her. Even some distance away, it’s evident that she has arrived, kicking, nudging, elbowing and bumping.

Mrs. E2 was determined to hide Baby Pink at her place of employment until the New Year. Fortunately, she has the last couple of weeks of 2006 off. Once Mrs. E2 was done working for the year, *WHAP* she got big.

She went back to work this week with an obvious change from the last time her colleagues saw her. Why do people (women especially) get all excited when they see a pregnant woman? Is pregnancy a special initiation into a club that men and women that haven’t experienced childbirth just aren’t invited to?

You know you’ve seen it… some lady losing it when she sees a pregnant woman: someone in the line at the bank, coffee place or supermarket; a complete stranger.

First, the questions:

Secret Club Member: (screeching as she hunkers down and runs over with her hand out to touch the belly) “Oooohhhaaaaahhhheeeeeehh… Look what you’ve been up to!”

Unwitting Pregnant Woman: “Wha!”

SCM: (sporting wide eyes and a crazed smile) “When aaaaaaaare yoooooou duuuuue?”

UPW: (a bit dazed, and taken aback with a strange woman touching her belly) “April,” she squeaks.

SCM: (rubbing UPW’s belly in circles and lowering her voice for the illusion of confidence) “Do you know what it is yet?”

UPW: (resisting the urge to say “human,” or “none or your business.”) “We’re having a girl,” as she narrows her eyes.

SCM: (feeling the excitement of another potential club member) “Ahhh… what’s her name?

UPW: (concealing the urge to break her hand off at the wrist) “Well… we like Jada.”

SCM: (her smile cascades into a frown and she knits here eyebrows together) “Humpfgh. That’s an interesting name.”

(Long, silent pause)

SCM: (puffing out a breath) “I once knew a crack-whore named Jada. What other names have you thought of?”

There are many amazing things about such interchanges, primarily, the complete lack of interest in the woman herself. If the ‘conversation’ is allowed to continue, the Secret Club Member glazes over and regales the Unwitting Pregnant Woman with tales of how wonderful pregnancy is, or how awful her 46 hours of labor were.

WTF?!?

What, Coupons?!?

There are some who eat, before eating: appetizers. Some sleep before bed: napping. Today, I went to the store before going to the store: I call that silly. As the unemployed one in our household the responsibility of grocery shopping falls on me. Normally I don't mind, but depending on my mood, it can be an exercise in patience and anger management.

The lovely & talented Mrs. eSquared was feeling sick this evening so I went to get some fizzy water, other soda and something for her lunch tomorrow. My cart is loaded with carbonated beverages by the two-liter bottle, and I am rounding the corner heading for the U-check isle. I can taste freedom.

Earlier, I noticed an older lady interrogating one of Fred Meyer's worker-bees about why he was moving a cart full of Wheaties boxes. I didn't hear what she said, but his reply was something like, "...we have to move this isle because we're putting another freezer unit where this one is." He continues to stack boxes from the cart. "Well ma'am, I don't know what they will put in there... I was told to move these boxes." For a moment, he had my sympathy. A cold, crowian chill crept down my spine as I continued my search for things fizzy.

So... the taste of freedom. I round the corner, and there she is; the Wheaties inquisitor. She stops me cold. Before I realize its her, she says to me, "What kind of coupon deals are there"?

I am not a coupon shopper. I'm not even a comparison buyer. I grab the closest, and most visible items along my pre-planned route through the store. All the while whispering to myself, "The shortest distance between two points is a straight line." or "Move that cart to one side of the isle, and no one will get hurt."

This lady could have said anything to me...
"You dropped a fifty."
"What a wonderful day it is."
"How about a quickie, young man"?

... and I would have responded the same.

"What"?

The gears in my head recover, and I recognize her as the Wheaties lady. My eyes narrow when I notice her unchanged focus to the bottom of my cart.

"What kind of coupon deals are there"? ... still focused on the bottles of soda.

"I'm sorry... I don't understand."

"Your coupons." she says, pointing to the coupon flier UNDER six bottles of pop.

Without averting her gaze, she REACHES into my cart, shoves the bottles aside and retrieves the flier. "Do you mind if I take a look..."?

"It's yours." I reply, and speed my way to the self-check line.

I never seem to learn. When I get in the line, there are no other people waiting, and there's one station that APPEARS open. Of course its not. The other three stations are occupied with the very reason there are professional checkers. Not only do professional checkers KNOW HOW to operate the scanners, buttons, scales and bags, but they are PHYSICALLY AND MENTALLY competent to do so.

Meanwhile... the ONE checker-supervisor person that oversees the u-check-train-wreck is running her ass off between the three other monkeys trying to scan produce.

I just roll my eyes and curse myself for not going to another line.

Plato: "Let no one Ignorant of Geometry Enter"

Ok… went to the store, put the groceries away, and decided it was time I tackled the GRE quantitative assessment. So I’m working along, feeling pretty good about my self. I’m slow, but it’s all coming back. Then… I come to a geometry question. I just sat and blinked at it.

Now I’m disheartened. Needless to say, I’ve put the book away and I’m listening to Van Morrison, and I’m spilling my woes here.

Is it possible to be a college graduate and be decimated by high school geometry? Plato was an asshole… on many levels.

So… on to a meme. I was going to write this big thing on memes as tools of community, like icebreakers. It was going to be brilliant and philosophical. Like Plato, I’m an asshole too.

I got this from Deenerann at My Lunatic Ramblings, who in turn lifted from someone else. Creative Commons, blah blah blah.


The last thing you burned while cooking?

More than likely, popcorn or a frozen pizza. Trader Joes has GREAT ones.

Describe yourself in 3 words?

Smart, silly and sarcastic (Mrs. E2 contribution) Me: Quirky, hypersensitive and
witty

How long does it take you to get ready for your day?

Get ready? Does that mean on bath day, or not?

Are you a health freak?

No, I have neither the discipline or the desire.

How many people have thought you were the one?

I could never be mistaken for a health freak. A freak, maybe, but not
a health freak.

What turns you off about the opposite sex?

Hygiene issues, inappropriate dressing (even if they can get away with it) and
shallowness.

What kind of car do you drive?

Mercury Sable

Favorite thing to toast to?

Friends, a wonderful meal, relationships, good fortune, acknowledgement of hard work and to get hammered.

What celebrity would you have coffee with?

Celebrity huh… Paul Newman, or Kenneth Branaugh

What celebrity would you not have sex with?

Humm… that’s a long list. First, everyone with a Y
chromosome. Of the rest, the top two no-brainers are Phyllis Diller and Joan
Rivers. But now that I think about it... probably anyone on the ‘A’
list. Why? Selfish in Bed and too much plastic.

What is the main ringtone on your cell?

I have a jarring old 40s ringtone. It’s unique and I can hear it for miles (when I have my phone on).

What were you doing at midnight last night?

Watching the new season of Morgan Spurlocks’ “30 Days”

Last TV show you watched?

See above

Who is your best friend?

Second to my wife: John

Who in your family do you get along with?

We get along… the two times a year we see eachother.

What is your top 5 hollywood hottie list?

1. Brenda Strong. 2. Sela Ward. 3. Sandra Oh 4. Mariska Hargitay. 5. Jeanne
Tripplehorn.

Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone?

Wife, but not the third or fifth

When/where was the last place you traveled?

Last month… Seaside Oregon. REALLY traveled, on a plane? 2002, Germany
and Italy

How many times have you been in love?

Puppy love… constantly. Real love? Once, and I still am.

How old will you be in 10 years?

49 (gasp) If I get there.

What did the last text message you received on your cell say?

“Hey handsome, I need your home address so I can send you an invitation.” (whoohoo)

What is a saying you say a lot?

"What the F#@&”!

Sinful snacking weakness?

Ice Cream

Best clothing style?

Best for comfort, or look? Shorts, t-shirt for
comfort. Humm… that’s all I wear.

Ever run out of gas?

Nope, I’m too OCD

Ever been to Europe?

Yup, loved it… eager to go back.

Worst date ever?

The whole narration or just her name? Let me say this… h a l i t o s i s.

Personal records?

Yes, I have them… years of them

What would you do if you could be the opposite sex for a day?

I wouldn’t leave the house.

Total jail time?

Zero… Not that I shouldn’t have jail time.

Have a crush on anyone you work with?

No.

In your cd player right now?

Soundtrack from Matrix Reloaded.

What is something you believe in?

Karma. Mean people breed little mean people. Everyone is amazing for something.

What is something you fear?

Unstable heights (looking over guard rails, etc). Going through my wife's
stuff after she's gone.

Big or small?

I have no idea what this means… BIG

Worst physical pain you ever experienced?

I don’t remember physical pain. I have lot's of scars though.

Tell us something about your childhood?

I had an imaginary friend I named Pabby.

Best time to catch you in a good mood?

In the morning, early, after or during coffee. I love coffee.

If you could be anything for a day, what would it be?

I dunno… only for a day? Sounds like a real bummer to have all your
dreams realized then 24 hours later be back in the same position. So…
I’ll say GOD.

Most prized possession?

My family (wife and cat). The rest of it is all fluf anyway.

Would you ever sell it?

If the price is right… just kidding.

What is one of your pet peeves?

Stupid, passive people

Favorite actor/actress

Tom Cruise… again, kidding. He's a chump. I have
lots. Tim Roth, Edward Norton, Ewan McGreggor, Tim
Robbins, Susan Sarandon, Morgan Freeman, Dustin Hoffman Etc...

What song are you listening to right now?

Nothing

If you could sucker punch someone right now who would it be?

Sean Evenson

Any secrets?

Does one person know all of my secrets, no. Do a few people know all
of my secrets, yes. So, do I have anything that no one knows, no.

Unhealthy addictions?

Unhealthy food.

Unhealthy fascinations?

Does watching really stupid shit on TV count?

Favorite sexual position?

All of them (that I know).

What do you notice first about the opposite sex?

Hair, eyes, malformations or disfiguring scars, general body type, sense of
humor, and eyes.

Favorite physical part of the opposite sex?

Other than female? Hair, legs and eyes

Soft sensual sex or porn star sex?

Alternate

Would you go on a date with someone you met online?

If I wasn’t married, sure.

Work attire?

Shorts, t-shirt.

What is your best physical feature?

Eyes

Do you think anyone actually has read this far?

My one reader? It depends if they’re out of rehab yet.

Hell Hath No Fury

Last night, I got an email from a friend I have lost touch with. It contained a solitary link. It was link to a website that serves as a bulletin board for jilted lovers, predominantly women posting their gripes and warnings about men. The link was about a mutual friend. Here is a tidbit of the 868 word posting: The sad part is that from what I know of him the post (that I deleted) was mostly true.

I am not posting this to be mean or for revenge. It is very serious the damage this person has done to people who have trusted him. NAME DELETED is a very bad person. He has severe psychological problems that damage all who are foolish enough to trust him. At first he seems too good to be true. He says all the things anyone would ever want to hear. He knows what women need to hear. He will seem like the sweetest kindest man. Then the truth slowly sets in. He has fooled so many women over the years. Ask him. He will tell you about all the other women but he will make it seem like it is their fault. He makes up terrible stories to tell people about you. It doesnt matter if you are dating him or are his friend or are his boss or coworker or even family. If you are connected to him in any way he has told vicious lies about you. He blames every problem he has on his ex wife or his boss. He has slandered countless people telling ugly stories to anyone who is compassionate enough to listen. He abuses all that is good in people. He even justifies himself by going to a therapist but he lies to her.

I am surprised there are such services available for would be lovers. It’s a pretty good idea, and pretty entertaining reading also. The lovely and talented Mrs. eSquared and I spent quite some time reading the comments.

Why am I blogging this? I’m not sure. I like the idea of the community awareness and accountability. On the other hand, it’s a little disturbing to know someone for which such a grievance is posted.

Running the Gauntlet

Spring… the end of the school year is nigh and senior-itis is spreading like a virus. The weather is warming up, and sap is beginning to course through the leaves and branches of trees. Sap is also pasted to the walls in the parking garage, the commons and the hallways of our buildings on campus. Unlike natural sap, the sap that plagues us here at UWB is the posturing of student government hopefuls.

First, I was met at the parking garage by painted posters urging me to vote for this person, or that issue. The most absurd: a relationship with gold’s gym for students. Next I saw an older man combing his hair. As I approached and smiled, he offered me a Gideon New Testament. I politely declined.

As I approached the commons, a candidate (I found out later) was between me and the door. He stood with a silly grin, and no other identifying characteristics. He asked me how I was and I guardedly replied. He told me he will have water here later if I wanted any. I thought… how weird.

I got into class and we had guests. Two of the candidates for student president were there to pitch themselves to us. It was as painful as a root canal. The first speaker (the one who offered the water) bashed his opponent, and never identified himself.

What is the point? I am hard-pressed to find and direct effect student government has had on me; aside from the crap they litter the campus with every spring, and their demands to vote.

I do understand their aspirations to have a notable addition to their Curriculum Vitae. What employer or academic program considers back-slapping and glad-handing as a marketable skill.

Intolerant? Yes. Arrogant, Probably.

Dusting the Virtual Shelves of the Internet

Today, my little slice of cyberspace will provide a much needed amplifier for something that has been bugging me for quite some time. In the good’ol days… websites were authored by companies and supergeeks. Once you bought a domain name, and found a place to host it somewhere, then you had to code your own HTML. Now, blogs, templates, myspace, and WYSIWYGs make the net accessible to any clown with fingers.

[A tangent] Often, the lovely and talented Mrs. eSquared and I discuss the age where one is compelled to accumulate junk, and display it in the home like trophies. At what age does one see a lil’ darlin salt & pepper set at the goodwill and gasp with excitement? Then do we move from haughty contempt to “won’t this look great next to the ‘gone fishin’ nick-knack on the fireplace mantle”? Both of us have sworn a murder-suicide pact when we get this old.

Back to my point… personal web pages have become virtual display-cases for the useless shit of the internet. Because of the anonymity of the internet, I’m not sure if age is a causal, or spurious variable in this equation. Nonetheless, if you’re wondering, here are some examples of the garbage can fodder that litter the dusty shelves of the internet.

Pop-ups, pop-downs, pop-ins, pop-overs, pop-unders. Yes, I have a pop-up blocker, but there is the very odd instance where one sneaks through. I can appreciate that you might be using a free host (such as tripod or GeoCities). And from the free hosting site's point of view, I can appreciate the need to bring in the revenue. Wait, you know what? No, I can't. Pop-ups suck and there's never any justification for them.

You resized my browser window. I hate that. I've got my browser set just where I like it and now you're forcing me to resize it? Worse yet, you maximized my browser window so I can't just click on the "Restore Down" boxes up top.

You make me have to scroll left and right. Just because I have my monitor's resolution set to 1024 x 768 doesn't mean I want my browser window maximized. In fact, I like to keep Firefox at about an 850 pixel width. Then I put Firefox so it's flush with the right side of my screen. That way I can view my e-mail folders underneath on the left side of my screen. Your site should fit in my Firefox without a left-right scrollbar appearing at the bottom of my browser. Again, this goes with the above item. I hate having to resize my browser.

You have some God-awful color scheme, font colors, and/or fonts. Your whole page is red text on a neon green background. In script. Italicized. That means you're either color blind or 13. Scratch that, a 13-year-old knows better.

Animated GIFs. You have more than one. Yes, your row of 863 waving and blinking smiley faces is very nice, as are the blinking purple stars on your page's background. And your 17 virtual pets. And your And the thousands of dancing hamsters. And the rotating "Sign My Guestbook." And the spinning envelope with "E-mail Me!" written on it. And the flashing "Under Construction!" sign...four of them. (Just so you know, EVERY PAGE ON THE INTERNET is "under construction," since websites are updated all the time. Don't worry, I know you're working very hard on building your site. I promise not to forget.)

You have an incredibly elaborate Flash interface for your site. If I see a little "Loading" percentage bar in the middle of my screen, I click close.

Your webpage has music on it. If I'm sitting at my desk quietly, not listening to music or the TV, and suddenly this music comes blaring out of my speakers I'm going to have to clean the skidmarks off my ceiling. Now, there are two kinds of music in this particular violation. The first is MIDI, the internet's elevator music. The second is MP3/WAV/Whatever...an actual streaming song. If you don't know the difference between the two, it's OK. All you need to know is that both types suck. Look, if you want me to listen to your cool music? ASK ME. If I want to, I'll play it. Don't force it on me. Besides, I'm already listening to music. And it's better than yours.

You use the friggin' BLINK attribute. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, you only used it once. That's once too many. Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should.

ur hOLe pAgE iz wRiTTun LiK thS. LiKe OMG! dID u C teh O.c. lasT nItE? I sO hEArT tHat sHw! Like, oh my God, I hope you come down with a serious case of spontaneous human combustion.

Your site requires me to register and log in before I can view the contents. Screw that shit. I've got enough accounts and passwords to keep track of already, thank you very much. Yes, of course there are plenty of web sites where a log-in makes perfect sense - for example, Yahoo!, G-mail, and my bank.

The clouds parted; the sun came out, and I screamed

Thank god for backups. Let me say it again… THANK GOD FOR BACKUPS! Its Easter morning and with coffee in hand, I marvel at the clear, blue sky above me after the dramatic presentation of the elements yesterday. Julie is at church, and I have the morning to myself… just me and the kitty.

I make my way into the office (with somewhere between a saunter and a stagger) and continue my quest for software. I recently formatted my laptop, and needed to reinstall my software.

At this point, let me chase a metaphorical butterfly off the trail and into the field a bit. To know me, is to know my prowess for computers, and my penchant for gadgetry. I consider myself pretty net-savvy and exercise caution and discretion when called upon. I have redundant security from firewalls to real-time software protection. It’s not as secure as the Pentagon, (I hope) but then again, I’m not responsible for any National secrets… just my wife’s PhD program documents.

Ok… back on the trail… I wanted to download a download manager (yes, I see the irony here). In order to get the free program, - (clue #1 I missed) I needed to download a different program first (clue #2). Perhaps I was insufficiently caffeinated; not paying attention or just plain dumb… I don’t know, I clicked the button and the hard drive began to make a lot of activity noise. Not the soothing whirr that it normally whispers as it is fetching a file, or executing a command. This was more like a pepper grinder… with a motor. Then the pop-ups started.

The first one was NOT the gentle warning one might expect. Perhaps I watch too many Navy movies:

Ensign: Sounding excited: “Sonar to COM… come-in COM.”
Captain: Calm and controlled, “Go ahead Sonar.”
Ensign: “Uh, Skipper… we have an unidentified sonar ping at zero-two-niner, over.”
Captain: “Ok Ensign, keep an eye on it.”

- Minutes later -

Ensign: High-pitched, nearing panic “Sonar to COM… come-in COM.”
Captain: Calm and controlled, “Go ahead Sonar... take it easy son.”
Ensign: “Wehavetwotorpedoescomingin… ETAforty-fiveseconds”!
Captain: Calm and controlled, “Take evasive action.”

If this were my ship… this is what this communication might have sounded like

Ensign: High-pitched, completely panicked, “SonartoCO”!
Glub… glub… glub… glub

I was able to fire off a screenshot of the warning I got before I was eatin’ seaweed…