MMX

While I had intended to be a a big party during the post, illness has dictated otherwise (Get well soon!) Thus, My plans for this post have been stymied just a bit, but it's still functional. My goal was to get a multi-person post, with each individual person leaving behind their total sentiment for 2010. A tiny party has converged at Dr. Girlfriend's house, and as the ball drops, this is what each person had to say!

Dr. Girlfriend

An awesome year full of some awesome achievements for me!

Ben

I got my master's and passed a cpa exam

Adam

lolwat? theo gave this to me while l iwas drunk. i like turtles. rawk.

The0

Thank god I made it through again.

Well. That was a little less than spectacular. But still, it's a little like a message to your future self. Enjoy!

Happy New Year!!!

-The0

Merry Christmas!

I know I shouldn't use just that term, because despite it's pagan origins, it's a theocentric salutation. Oh well. It's that time of year yet again, and this time it snowed! I had a marvelous Christmas, and everyone loved their gifts. My father especially loved his. It sparked precisely the kind of fire I wanted to spark in him.

Dr. Girlfriend made off like a bandit this year. Small gifts, big gifts, she loved them all. I made off quite well as well. I got my hat, some artwork, and a battery charger, in addition to many fine garments. It's been a a good year. Dinner was good, and the company better

I want to wish all of my friends, relatives and loved ones a Merry Christmas. In trying times I have everything I wanted for Christmas. A strong, loyal and enjoyable network.

Merry Christmas!

-The0

Economic Stimulation

I think I am finished with all my christmas shopping, finally. I even got them them all wrapped. My father's gift is going to just magnificent, I hope. Everything has arrived, and it's all in good shape. It's exciting for a different reason this time around.

I have actually taken a big liking to the emotional content of the holiday. To give a gift, and either see the reaction of the recipient, or to receive a hertfelt thanks. With all the thinking, shopping, and preparation work I put into this Christmas, I'm going to walk away with exactly what I wanted. Friendship and warmth. Aaawwwww.

Oh. And a new hat. I want a new hat.

Merry Christmas!

-The0

Kaitlyn Valerie

Congratulations to my best friend Walter Mickey, who just had a little baby girl. Well, he and his wife did. She did the hard part. Kaitlyn Valerie Mickey, December 18th. Again, Congratulations!

By Walt's permission, I get to be crazy Uncle The0! Buying weird toys and putting her in unwitting control of small experiments.

Yay!

-The0

Smooth move

God Damn motherfucking shit wad piss damn. Smooth as ice. That's usually how I'm able to drive. I'm experienced on nearly every surface. i am the only person I know to spin out in rush hour traffic on 64/40, in a blizzard, with old tires, and drive away with nothing more than a dent in the bumper. I can steer my damn bullet, but I know when to take it slow. This weather merited early braking and slower turns. It's a fun condition in which to drive.

Something was different tonight. As I pulled into a friends driveway, my brakes locked on his icy driveway, at fewer than 5 miles per hour. I sadly found my bumper and his garage doorway kissing a few short moments later. Stupid slick-ass driveway. The door still functions, but it is dented. I'll pay for it, I'm sure, at the very least, his deductible.

Fuck.

-The0

Economic Orgasm

Oh boy! Christmas Shopping!!! It happens again!! I was able to maintain a fund for purchasing gifts, and this time around I have slightly more money to spend on friends and loved ones than I did last year! Dr. Girlfriend has, of course, had the most care taken of her, but there are a few tricky people this year. My father is one. He is stable, has everything he can need, buys what we wants (which is very little), and is deserving of more than a throwaway tie. My only plan is to try and pique at his nostalgia.

A huge portion of my shopping is already done. All I had to do was think of what I thought would be cool to have, and then gift those items to the appropriate friends. This Christmas came mostly from ThinkGeek.com, and I'm taking the Woot approach to the gifting process. You spent nothing, you get something cool. Remember this one sentiment, as a courtesy not only to me, but for all the disappointing gifts you're bound to receive eventually.

If you don't get the crap you want, want the crap you get!

-The0

Zwölf, Elf, Zehn

Today is the day, December Eleventh, 2010. Rammstein's first concert on US soil in 9 years. I'm really hurting that I can't go. While it may be a temporary sentiment (unlikely), work is a ridiculous alternative to attending a seminal show. I won't be able to stop thinking about it.

Twelve Eleven 'Ten. Today at work I'll be anxiously watching the clock, trying to figure out what I could have been doing instead. Waiting in line, getting lost on my way from the airport, freezing under the magnificent fire display, and singing myself hoarse to the industrial tones.

I really hope this ends out being worth it. The issue is that no one at my place of work really likes or even understands the appeal of Rammstein. My obsession, my fandom, is dismissed as fancy and childishness. One of my few calming thoughts going through this day is knowing that in the "Many Worlds" interpretation of quantum theory, there is a reality where I have indeed gone to the show, maybe even been pulled on stage. Of course, by that logic, there is a universe where I'm not even a fan, hell, not even alive. It's a conundrum. I'll just keep at the issue at hand.

Rock On Rammstein!

-The0

False Alarm

The previous post should be disregarded! Everything is fine, nothing is ruined!

Even so, I am off to go shopping with Dr. Girlfriend, to buy her gifts to celebrate this near miss!

I'll explain it all, pending permission!

-The0

Kind of Numb

I have chosen to be very vague, very short, and very cryptic in this post. Something has gone wrong, and Dr. Girlfriend and I may lose something very dear to us. In the panic, planning, and general shock of it all, I overslept. When asked, I explained what was happening to my boss, and that came off as blaming my failures on the situation. It's not a pretty picture right now.

Goddamnit.

-The0

Like a Titan

So the place of employment has me in a weird place. I realize the high risk in saying this, but we just had a huge layoff spree, and I somehow made the cut to remain employed. So now, on top of those people gone, we have HUGE projects coming up. Our alloted hours in the day are easily exceeded by the amount of work we have piling up.

This place might be like this one ship I read about. It was big, made of steel, and hadd a bunch of movies made about it.

Poseidon protect me, I'm going to need you, I think.

Sea-Sick of Metaphors,

-The0

111110

Today is November 11th. Another binary date, 62 is the base-10 equivalent of this date. I don't really have anything too terribly relevant or impressive to report.

I'll mention something that did happen though. I was at Korenav's birthday LAN party having a moderate blast when a touch of damage came to my computer. A chair got kicked, a dongle was in the way and suddenly, BAM. Tiny blue sparks and a busted USB port. I was advised to get the fucker disconnected from the motherboard as soon as possible, and i spent the rest of the night trying to figure out how to replace the piece.

We were able to find a couple of part that semi fit and would connect, but in the end, I simply decided to order a new part from the manufacturer. It got here just fine, and was a little tricky to install, but here's the thing. The top USB port works fine, and the bottom one almost works. Power flows, and I guess like 3 out of 4 pins are connected, but USB devices will not connect. I think the motherboard actually got slightly damaged in that event. It'll have to be replaced eventually, but the theory is that since I actually registered the product, I may be able to get a free replacement. Yay.

Oh well. I had eight USB port, and now I have seven. Eight is enough, that's why they made a show called that. I'm tired. Signing out.

-The0

Halloween

There's something about this holiday which makes it very special to me. I can't quite put my finger on it, but this holiday has a certain sentimentality rivaled only by Christmas. It went from when I was a kid dressed in a costume my mom made me wear, to the awkward teenage years stuck in a military academy with no trick-or-treating. It continued onto the renaissance of the Halloween house party in college, and now the drunk-fest and costume contests of bars and friend's houses. Why is it that I love this holiday so much?

I suppose it really just boils down to the festivities of it all, and really expressing yourself. You get to create a kick-ass party or decorate your home, but you don't have to make it a special holiday thing. Thanksgiving is for family, Christmas (or equivalent) is for everyone you care about. But Halloween is for fun. It's id satisfaction. Drink up, get crazy on sugary treats, and throw on some music, everyone else is. How very secular.

But there is also the darker tone to the holiday. This is the one day of the year goth kids are happy, it seems. Demons, devils, zombies and monsters. All sorts of abominations come and take this stage at this point of the year, and this makes me very happy, actually. A deep-seated brooding monster blights us all, I think. I feel like this is a special time to go ahead and open the bottle from my teenage years, and let said monster out for a little while.

This year, I'm making my most elaborate costume ever. It will probably be gotten by a maximum of 5 people attending Dr. Girlfriend's Halloween Party, but it's something I may be able to use again for conventions or something. Steam-punk Dr. Horrible, complete with Chronocryonic Blaster (Freeze-Ray.)

This is going to be AWESOME!

-The0

BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAINS!!!!!

Well, it's finally here. The St. Louis Zombie Walk, 2010. Months of planning, huge amounts of effort on multiple great people all come down to the wire tonight. To all the Patients and CEDA Officers who are helping tonight, and to my lovely Dr. Girlfriend who has helped to put this whole thing together, Thank You!

The trepidation I feel right now is nothing like I've had before. It's not like stage fright, where you're afraid you'll mess something up. It's not like stunt anxiety, where the risk of personal harm is a factor. This is a flash event. There is no real guarantee of attendance, and it may be that me, Dr. Girlfriend, and a handful of other will be the only ones in attendance to this entire event. All the effort will have been wasted, and we'll look like a handful of fools just shuffling around being zombies.

Facebook was the only real tool we used for this whole project. It may have spread through word of mouth after that, but seriously, I have no idea how awesome or dismal this is going to be. One can only hope, really.

Positive attitude. BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAINS!!!!!!

-The0

I Have Too Small a Plate

Or I have simply piled too much onto it. That's a horrifying way to live a life. Always worrying that you're letting one of many projects fall to the far wayside. I fear I have bitten off way more than I can chew. I have a HUGE idea for a baddass Halloween costume, one which very few people will get. The Zombie Walk is quickly approaching Day Zero, and pre-registration was an utter failure, so I'm worried that it my go belly up altogether. My birthday is approaching, and I was hoping of hosting a LAN party, but I have little to no prep work done for that. All the while, I fall further behind in my blogging. That's what I stress over when I'm not at work. Mediocre Shit.

At least my relationship seems to be doing alright,

-The0

Like, WAAAY Too Thin

This is going to be quick and dirty, which will explain why everything is short and filthy. My place of employment has a set number of people doing tasks. Recently, my favorite manager found a new, better job in a faraway state, one of my co-workers, key in his ability to help pick up missed slack was flat-out fired, and a last coworker saw these signs and jumped ship. We are at skeleton crew numbers here, and that skeleton is missing an arm. There is a lot of stress and an excess of work on the horizon. I'm spread thin. I'm fucked.

But on the plus side, I work hourly.

-The0

Happy 42

October Tenth, 2010. 10/10/'10. Why is this important? 101010 is 42 in binary, and we won't have another one of these in 100 years, technically 1000. 42 of course is the answer to life, the universe, and everything. Douglas Adams fans rejoice as we come another cosmic step closer to the ultimate question.

Dré came into town today, and the entire college troupe is quite happy to have her here. I've already started drinking in celebration. She only gets out of her current country once or twice a year, so the fact that she's laying aside an entire bi-week to see us is really awesome. She is among the most influential women in my life. The top woman in that list is my lovely Dr. Girlfriend. They're going to have fun together, I hope. It's promising to be a great birthday month. Speaking of birthdays.

So I take my truck in to get new tires, as the other ones didn't have a 1/16th of an inch left to them. I also decided that I'm finally going to get my alignment fixed from when I had to replace the starter, about 3 weeks ago. I get a call later, the tires have been fixed, but my front end had decayed in such a way that a steering arm was liable to snap at any moment, which could cause a nasty accident, like an "I'm upside-down and I don't know how I got that way" type of accident. I had nowhere near the funds available to fix that kind of damage. I expressed my conundrum to my father who, bless his loving heart, paid for the repairs and tires outright. Happy Birthday from Dad.

I love you Dad!

-The0

Herzeleid

Today I found out some monumental news, for me anyway. My most beloved band, Rammstein, the kings of depraved brutality, are actually coming to the US! One show only, December 11th, New York City, in Madison Square Garden. It's going to be spectacular! Fire and explosions, German metal, and none to soon. It's been nearly a decade since they last visited, and us fans have been chomping at the bit the get them back here in the US. It's a huge deal in the US fan community.

The last time I saw them live was on the Mutter World Tour, at the Pageant on July 12th, 2001. This was my first concert, and it really set the bar for every show I have since attended. I was bombarded with strange images, smells, feelings. Ingenious costumes, complete with lights and flares to fit the opening song of Mein Herz Brennt. I felt what it was like to be crushed against my fellow fan for the closest glimpse I could get to the band. Maniacal acts of pyrotechnics filled the entire auditorium with fear. This particular scene stays branded in my memory forever.

Till had just started the "flaming metal jacket" act, when something went wrong. His leg caught aflame, which made stagehands run out to get the metal garment off of him, before more damage could be done. Flake left and reappeared with a fire extinguisher, which he promptly discharged at Till. He burst into a massive fireball. Over and again Flake kept firing, and the flames grew larger. Before we knew it, Till was curled on the stage, badly burnt and smoldering. Someone behind me shouted "Somebody call 911!" Shaking, Till stands up. His hand reaches up to the bottom of his charred face, and peels a mask upwards and off. Perfectly fine, Till resumes the song.

This kind of showmanship is the most extreme possible statement of a band's art. Madison Square Garden is going to be a landmark in metal history. I couldn't be more excited!

And I can't go.

It's heart-rending. The show takes place the night before the largest event of the year at my place of work. We call in volunteers just to keep up with everything. No one gets this day off. No one. The show would ostensibly end approximately 3 hours before that hell-shift begins. There's no way to get back from New York to St. Louis in that amount of time. Going to this show, this personal world-changing experience, and keeping my job, a partial bane of my existence, are mutually exclusive.

I know it's just a concert, and in these times it's important to be stably employed, but a lot of people misunderstand how important this band is for me. They were my soundtrack to high school. They were there for my first girlfriend, my first breakup, and my first exploration into the real world. They were my first concert ever. This band is as important to me, as the Beatles were to modern music. Yeah, it's like that. I'm not the biggest fan, but I am an active fan. The petitions, fan letters, the records sales, everything paid off; we convinced them that there was just enough of a fan base here in the States to bring them back one last time, and now I can't go.

I have been planning for this for years, and it breaks my heart that I have to make the responsible decision. However, what will be, will be. I am ecstatic that they are coming back, even if it's for one last show. I'm joyful that they remembered us, and that they decided to put in the kind of effort it takes to put on this show. I'm devastated that I can't go, but I'm very happy that some can.

Danke Schön and ROCK ON, Rammstein!!!!

-The0

Lost Highway

I am really good at driving my truck. I've had my share of accidents, but on the whole, I've escaped from more situations than into which I have gotten. Back and forth from work rarely has any occurrences of interest, but life will, of course, occasionally throw you a curveball.

Here's an exmple. I'm cruising down the the left lane, with 2 cars adjacent to me in the right lane. I can't just signal and move over, there isn't enough room between the two cars to do so safely. So I calmly gun the engine, pull very quickly (after an illegally brief signal) in front of the lead car and finish the maneuver with just enough time to calm down as the oncoming car in my lane passes by at at estimated 30 miles an hour. This road can best be described a a 4 lane highway, a big wide road with a 15 foot grass median. It's really kind of hard to get into the wrong lane, let alone the wrong direction. There was a bar nearby, but I really hope that guy wasn't that drunk.

Tonight, I nearly could have died. I've played video games where I've driven on the wrong side of the road, and caused massive damage to multiple virtual parties. But never once have I been so confused as to actually drive on the wrong side of the media. If I ever do that, I have a plan. It involves J-turns, 4 wheel drive, and a a string of expletives.

I love my truck too much to do that, though. Better to just drive sensibly.

-The0

Musical Rememberances

Have you ever been walking along down the street or driving in your car, when a certain song came on the radio or your iPod, and you're transported, almost like déjà vu, to a time when you most intensely heard said song? The smell in the air, the lighting, hell, even what you were eating can come into mind.

I love that feeling most of the time. Songs elicit certain emotions and memories in me, and they verify the places I've been in my life, the more outstanding experiences I've had. I have a mix CD that I made for the maiden voyage of Aschenputtel, and it reminds me fondly of the winter where I got to know her. Emilie Autumn's Opheliac takes me back to the slower, less stressful times of last winter. There are also the songs that take me back to darker times, and rougher emotions. They are just as cherished, strangely.

It's a small thing, a little pleasure in life. To have a memory attached to anything so solidly gives me hope for when the ravages of Alzheimer's eventually comes to destroy my mind. Is there anything like that for you? Feel free to please post it in the comments.

-The0

3 Yaaaaars Old

Yar, we done it again! This old computer box, Ozymandias as I like to call 'im, has carried me shivered gaming timbers for another year of joy! On me journey though these fantastical lands, I been watchin' me rig wear asunder from the weight o' the journey. There be bigger and more pert sails, taller masts, and sharper looking glasses to be had for it.

In me plunders of me particular professional persuasion, I done found meself with some booty to fritter off. I found a pair of looking glasses, bigger and clearer than any me ghost has seen afore. When paired together, they work like a devil's plaything, and I can nearly past th' horizon. This binocular contraption was more a matter of a stitch in time, rather than any sort of reward to me or me rig.

The idea be to maintain a steady speed among the other cutters, so as not to be left behind in the wake of me hunters. I daresay I've for now. Happy Launchday, Ozymandias! Let's point this hull hard ahead and keep the wind astern us!!!

-The0

Translation: I bought new video cards, in celebration of another year of having this computer, and in an effort to maintain a bead on the cutting edge. Yay!

Patriot Day Post

Well, it's been 9 years since the 2001 terrorist attacks, which has remained the greatest "Where were you when...?" of our generation. Thankfully, we haven't had a really big news wave like that since, but plenty of change has indeed been afoot. Never forget.

Something else happened on that day, though. Many don't know this, but September 11, 2001 was also the day that Schwinn ceased to be a real American symbol. Schwinn was bought out on this day and had all manufacturing shipped overseas. Schwinns had been a symbol of post-war success for generations, an American-built bipedal machine for which that every child pined. Now, they are little more than tack-welded aluminum tubes in poorly-assembled lines at Wal-Mart.

Lately, it seems there has been a real lack of momentum in American pride. Granted, were coming out of a serious recession, a massive change in political winds, and every is getting kicked out of their houses, but we still must have something of which to be proud, right?

That moon still belongs to us. Yeah.

-The0

Five things to think about

Out of lack of interesting content, I offer you five time wasters in honor of Post 101 (which is 5 in binary. Remember that when someone says, "101 is 5 in binary, I think.")

1. Is it just me, or do stoplights know when you're in a slight rush, and then turn red for just long enough to force you to make a complete stop? I pay for my gasoline a bit more than everyone else (by choice, I'm well aware) but it's still more efficient to let me coast through the occasion red light, in lieu of burning gas to get momentum again. In the right company, I'd be given an agreeing nod.
2. Why doesn't the DeLorean account for the movement of planetary bodies in Back to the Future 1, 2, and 3? Or does it? Is Doc Brown so smart as to incorporate stellar drift into the time circuit's calculations? I'm pretty sure a head would explode, not just burn out some tiny microchip which was "Made in Japan."
3. Why the crap do we still short total dollar amounts? $14.95 is practically still read as $15 to the savvy consumer. Are we all really still that dumb? And does a nickel really still mean that much? They might. I'll pick up anything shiny enough.
4. In terms of sexual euphemisms, what would "salting my pretzel" represent? I'm nearly certain it would involve a contortionist.
5. About 14 months ago, I said I'd release a Half-Life 2 review post. In the true spirit of when Half-Life 2 was actually released, I released (read: finished) my post 14 months late. A link can be found in the following picture. (Because lately I am a total junkie for QR codes.)

-The0

Post 4, Base64

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-The0

Long Day, Short Temper

Whoever said it is always darkest before the dawn is full of horse piss. I was heading off to work at an ACTUAL obscene hour today (4:30 am) and I could see the sun's hateful fucking rays starting to lick the horizon. Things will usually give a sign that they are getting better, and today I will not see a fucking single one of those signs. I'm not even going to see the sun at all today. I'm calling back to a post where people can't do their job. Guess who picks up the slack? Your local favorite cross-bearer.

My overtime is ridiculous, though.

-The0

The Hell?

My thoughts exactly as Walter, his wife and I approached my neighborhood after dinner. There, parked flashing, and waiting nearby were roughly 20 police vehicles, to include S.W.A.T. vans and firetrucks. We parked, and we joined the growing droves of people on the sidewalks. After much listening in, we learned it was some kind of hostage situation or police standoff. A guy with a radio scanner even heard talk of a sniper having a shot, and being told to hold his position or something. Very exciting, but ultimately a waste of time. All the cops were gone in the morning, and I can only assume there was a peaceful resolution.

I got a funny feeling that this whole ordeal was bringing the community together. People who hadn't seen each other in months were sharing smiles, and someone even brought out a table and chairs. "Hey! I remember you! We met at the standoff last week! Let's network!"

Pictures of the lovely mess.

Apparently, the guy was simply armed and alone in his house. Waste of time.

-The0

I thought I was a public risk.

So I was barely awake for a shift that began at what I would call, "Obscenely Early." I was already minutes behind, but decided it would be far wiser to be a little late with some form of energy drink in hand than to show up on time wanting to murder everything I saw. I'm waiting at the traffic light, taking is what morning looks like, when the vehicle next to me starts charging forward by feet at a time. I see that the light is still red, and I'm wondering, "Where the hell this guy is trying to go?"

I take a better glance, and see that he has been rear-ended. More than that, he keeps getting hit and pushed a bit forward. This is a terrible way to start your day, especially for the person behind. You are invariably at fault, you've got damage to your car, and on top of that, the sun is shining and birds are chirping gaily like that's their freaking job. I look back even farther, rubbernecking to catch a view of the poor rear driver's face. I see her, she's not reaching for her insurance or her phone. No, she's busy having a seizure. The man in front reacts, calls 911, and tries to shut her car down. I think to myself, "I should get out and help, but he seems to have it. Plus, my light has just turned green, and there are people behind me."

I drive across the street, wishing there was more I could do, and pull into the gas station. To my surprise, there is a police car sitting in the lot, and the officer was standing right inside. I went in, made my selection, completed my transaction, turned to him and said, "There has been an accident at the intersection of ______ and ______, right down there. The lady involved is not well, you should probably get there." We both left, he was the third one on the scene, and I continued on my way.

I did a good deed today through no fault or effort of my own. Plus, I was only a minute late to work!

-The0

Always

So like many of my generation, my media affiliation has been totally dominated by [adult swim] (yes, the brackets are necessary. I'm not sorry.) They had recently plugged endlessly a game they created called "Robot Unicorn Attack" with a one-song soundtrack, "Always" by Erasure. Under ANY other circumstance, I would have no damn clue what the hell that song was or where it came from.

I was walking through Lowe's one lovely afternoon with Dr. Girlfriend, when suddenly we paused, mid-selection of items, and we heard this song over the PA. We sang, we laughed, we even danced a minute bit. We thought of the randomness of the moment, and then we went back to selecting furniture pads.

We were struck with the idea that the music was totally out of place in a hardware store. What self-respecting contractor or home repairman would be caught listening to something as purely pop as "Always"? Stereotypes aside, Erasure is out of place anywhere, saving of course a game like Robot Unicorn Attack. I'm not saying I can do better, but if this is the idea of a joke for the one girl that works at Lowe's, then well done!

Living in Harmony, Harmony, oh Love!

-The0

Monthly Report 3

Another month end! Hooray! Another couple of paychecks, another couple hours of gaming, and some steps on the Zombie Walk have been taken. All in all, some accomplishments, some lackings, but a good enough month.

The coming posts are going to be short and sweet. Again. As the more astute of you have no doubt noticed, I draft these things way up in advance, and then crank them when I have (read: force myself to have) time to complete them. My best post recently is the one before this, please cram your eyes at that.

Procrastination is quite the strange bird, indeed. You finally get all the way up to a deadline, and then when you finally catch yourself almost completely up, you take a small break, and then life gets in the fucking way. This month, I will finally catch up from the holidays.

Not afraid of run-on sentences,

-The0

The "Roll" part of Rock

As previously mentioned, I have obsessions which come to the forefront of my skull, become all I can talk or think about for about 2 months, and then, though still a part of my repertoire of interests, fade away. Usually, it's because such projects or obsessions are very very costly, require loads of free time (in very short supply, as readers have no doubt inferred,) or a vast sum of technical knowledge in order to get them to even come close to fruition. The results however, can astound anyone. That disclaimed, I give you the current honey of my th0ught process, The 1957 Chevrolet.

My god, I know I bend to obsession at times, but I hope this one remains part of my person for as long as I am coherent. I'm losing hope on it officially, in a depressed bout where I've decided I will never have the available cash to get my latest dream car, which in all rights, is my original dream car. I've loved this vehicle off and on since I was 8, I think. The 1957 Chevrolet 150, 210 or Bel Air. A beautiful mix of subdued styling; classy, and aggressive, like a spy with a sassy haircut, an ironworker in a tuxedo, a rock star in high society, or a nerd in a hawaiian shirt (not sure about that last simile). This thing is such a mishmash of personality and actual sass that most people, even not knowing the year, have to bend to its class, history, styling, and interestingly enough, progressiveness.

The avant-garde shape of the headlights, the generous helping of chrome on the bumper, the futuristic bombsight hood ornaments give the car a character straight from the front view. Moving over the lovingly angled windshield, we come to the beginning of the fins, curving down slightly to let you know they're beginning. Echoing the wheel wells, they play small hint at what's to come. The forerunner to muscle car styling gives straight back to a pair of elegant fins. Sort of a raised eyebrow at the massive airfoils that were beginning to adorn cars at that time. The interior, simplistic of the now, was modern at it's era. Smooth, sleek, yet busy. Not really deco, but I have no idea how else to describe it. Beautiful. The whitewall tires do no small favor in the fast-paced look that go straight from the blacktop to the ballroom.

However, design is not the only property this vehicle has to show for itself. Available options for it included air conditioning (a rare amenity back then), a razor for some reason (maybe to shave on the way to work?), a dashboard prism that allowed you to see traffic lights changing (so that you don't have to lean forward to watch them), and a couple of other things. It even had something called an "Autotronic Eye", which automatically dimmed your headlights when it sensed oncoming light sources. Internally, we had the options for power steering, power brakes, an automatic transmission, and the first-ever production fuel-injected engine. It made for the second engine to ever produce one horsepower per cubic inch of displacement off the line. Technology and engineering all coming together for a grand, beautiful triumph of form and function.

This car calls back to a whitewashed past. In a din of civil rights disputes, scandal, and the awesome birth of rock and roll, we can still look back at the faded posters and rust spots on our post-war glory, and remember how it used to be. If it becomes the death of me, I will own one of these.

-The0

Lunacy

I have many interests, varied and numerous as the fucking stars. They are all very cool, very worthwhile, very appealing interests. The main issue is that I have ADD. These interests wax ridiculous and then, sadly, slowly wane to the periphery. These interests don't cease to be interesting, though. I simply get distracted by another shiny new awesome. Recall my devout interest in robots just over a year ago? I'm able to identify rotor type and purpose, a couple of technical terms, and I can appreciate the effort put into those things. That is all that has come of those hours perusing and researching. It's been happening for a while now, and I'm making certain to recognize it.

The real trouble in all of this is that I think it keeps me from getting farther ahead in life. I get an interest, a will to make something cool happen, and then either interest fades or something new comes up. It's a hell to be able to recognize this kind of pattern, and be next to powerless to stop it. Like someone who has no apparent willpower.

I am going to start working against this. I'm making permanent logs of things I want to do. They call these things "Goals" apparently. A goal that is not written down is but a dream, apparently. So, with my work cut out for me, I need to prioritize, and make daily efforts towards my goals.

I didn't mean to get all preachy just then. It would seem my current goal is to start making goals, to the end of getting my life together.

...Again.

-The0

Ridiculously Behind

Have you ever noticed how time seems to go faster when it's the last thing you want/need it to do? For example, you have 12 years worth of work to do, and 15 minutes in which to do it. You sneeze, and then you're late, running behind and doing everything on the fly. I feel like that lately. My weblog is sadly suffering for the time being because of this fact.

They say if you're early to bed, early to rise, it'll make you healthy, wealthy, and wise. Late to sleep, late to wake, makes a man hard to break I think. Harder circumstances has tried to bring me down, and the fact of the matter is I just won't freaking let it. I have too much work to do.

I'm not to proud to turn down help on anything when it's offered. Not anymore. I have very little experience soliciting help though. That stated, well, I'll just follow my usual form and blurt it out.

Following is a small list of projects which with I could use some assistance:

• Zombie Walk, scheduled for October 23rd.
• Reclamation of my living area, sooner than later.
• Destruction of my alcohol collection, as soon as possible.
• Undisclosed dream car project, before oil runs out.
• Instrument practice, whenever possible.
• Video gameage, whenever possible.
• Work tomorrow, Too soon.

Yeah, I may be biting off more than I can chew.

-The0

New Shoes!

I was never really able to get in on popular things while I was young. I was late to great music, I was behind the curve to good movies, and spending all my physical adolescence in a military school, I was certainly never on top of fashions. But, having lived on my own, socialized a bit more, and learned of the real ways of rock, I came across an affinity for something I love wearing. 20 years late, but still kickin'.

My Converse Chuck Taylors. Black and white, athletic, classy, and they can go nearly everywhere. The quintessential rock and roll shoe, retro in it's looks, and hip to this day. Granted, I'm rambling at this point, but I seriously love the look and feel of these shoes. I'm getting married in them (or a new pair at that point, probably), and if I can find the right tuxedo, I can pull it off.

All-Stars. They're like whitewall tires, for your feet.

-The0

Can't get it from Radishes, either.

A couple of weeks ago I had my debit card number stolen. I was woken up early on a day off to a call from my bank, asking about several large purchases. I had just gotten paid the night before, but I had not yet deposited the money. Some one, through one of my online transactions, I must assume, had gotten a hold of my card number and tried to make a bunch of, get this, Apple related purchases. I of course denied all of these charges, had the card cancelled, and began a very broke fortnight.

Seriously though, it's clear that these guys have no idea who the people from whom they steal are. This thing got nipped in the bud faster than I can pour a drink after my work day. Sadly, he (assumed gender) had already drained my bank account with purchases related to overpriced electronics. That's where all this beauty lies.

1. You're not going to get blood from a turnip. I had next to nothing to give, and your stupid ass tried to steal everything I had at the bottom on my fiscal cycle. Moron.
2. Really? Apple? REALLY? The only online purchases I made in the first place, from which you could have stolen my card number were were for purchases diametrically OPPOSED to Apple. Someone's got a little problem recognizing patterns, huh? This is risky information, I know, but I don't think you're stupid enough to try this twice.
3. By cancelling the card, refuting the purchases, and sifting through enough tape to get through it, I have completely voided your fraudulent purchases. It takes more effort to overwrite yours, but guess what? Your effort was actually for naught now. You've been cancelled out. How's that feel, weakling?

I'm much more careful with my (well-protected) card now, and all in all, I'm wiser and safer for this experience. Suck and fuck it, slacker!

-The0

Monthly Report 2

Well, there's not a lot to say. I'm alive, I'm very frustrated at work, but the bills are under control, mostly. This says to me that I must be treading water quite well, but I much prefer to swim. I'm actually not fond of swimming, come to think of it. I wonder what the metaphor for getting completely out of the pool is.

My good friend Ben is visiting right now, and it's nice to have company after a long day of work. Someone with whom to share a beer and play video games. He decided to extend his visit to cover both of my days off, so we get to spend some good time hanging out.

The leader of the band, Kurt, and his wife celebrated a birthday together recently. That was fun to attend. Good beer, good times.

The amount of overtime I have been getting recently is astounding, and makes for quite a bit extra in the bank. I was thinking about maybe getting another bike, a stylish one, or upgrading the old computer here. We'll see how that pans out. It goes pretty tantamount against the teachings of Dave Ramsey, a financial makeover guy I've been reading from lately. However, if this suck is going to suck like it sucks, then I want to have some fun at some point.

End Monthly Report 2.

-The0

The Eagle Chicks

As I am quite short on time lately, and tired of being so behind in my writing, I'm cutting the next few entries to short records. I'm more sorry to me than I am to you for this.

I had the rare chance to see The Eagles and The Dixie Chicks live recently. It was a gift from Dr. Girlfriend's awesome family, and circumstance could not have been more against me. I requested the day off roughly 8 weeks in advance, and due to being very suddenly shorthanded at work, not only did I work a double shift the previous day, but I was called in to cover the following day, while still getting that evening off. The idiotically optimistic way to look at this is "At least they are relying on me." More on that in a later post.

I was a zombie for the first hour of the show, which sadly meant that I couldn't really appreciate the Dixie Chicks as well as I should have liked. They had a very good sound for a live performance, but something was off. I later noticed that the singer (Natalie) had shaved off all of her hair. The most popular speculation is that she did it for a Make-A-Wish Foundation girl. Good of her, to give that kind of connection to the kid for the entire tour.

I was never much of an Eagles fan, but it was a very impressive display. I was glad to see talented saxophonists accompanying a classic band as such. Don Henley is apparently the only original component to that band left, or at least the most household-y name of them. They played their old stuff, Hotel California, then their new stuff, which I in no way recognized. They finished with Takin' It Easy, and then the show ended. They were just great on stage. I'm pretty certain I can't be the only one who thought of Bill Nighy's character from Love, Actually when I saw Don Henley. I have a few photos from the event, which I suppose I took for posterity's sake, but they came out well enough. I still got to make the event, and my life is fuller for it.

NEVER miss out on a big event simply because you are fucking exhausted. Buy an energy drink, and you can sleep when you're dead.

-The0

1.21 Gigawatts could make a MASSIVE SLI Array

So I'm taking a shower, and I'm thinking, "Alright! I'm going to be early at work! No stress today!" when I hear this loud noise. I thought something had fallen over in my shit storm of a bedroom, or that maybe someone was in house. Not seeing anyone, or hearing a response, I finished up my shower to investigate. Nothing disturbed, no one to be found, but my computer was off. And wouldn't power back on. Something, was wrong.

The LAN jack was still lit, so that meant power must still being flowing in there somehow. I flipped my breakers, nothing. I unplugged it for five minutes, got dressed, re-plugged and tried again. Nothing. I started closely examining the PSU. There it was, the unfortunately familiar scent of ozone and smoke. After a quick disassembly (yes, I'm well aware of the risks involved with that, and what's worse [probably an explanation of why this happened too] is that this wouldn't be the first time I've opened my PSU for repair purposes), I confirmed my fears. My PSU had burnt out with such force that it had made a noise audible over my fucking shower.

So, being as I was already running "behind" for work, I had to make an arrangement. I called up my friend, and explained my situation, he had a bit of time on his hands, and decided to help me repair my system. I emailed him my specifications, and he ran out to Microcenter, shopping for what he would want if he had my system, with the promise to be paid back the instant repairs were complete. "Repairs" to my system is a bit of a misnomer, come to think of it. Every time something breaks on the thing, I make it a point to upgrade to the next level of awesome. I had a 600 watt CoolerMaster PSU, and I'm now I'm running a 750 watt Modular Corsair PSU. My case is already running an average of 9°F cooler, and I will NEVER have to worry about power slip-ups for my SLI array at least 24 months.

If 600W makes that loud of a pop, I very well believe that 1.21 GW could indeed send the DeLorean back into the future.

-The0

My previous phone was DesDroid

So, a shitstorm occured while I was moving my friend back home. I picked up the bike just fine, which was just as awesome as I thought it would be. I drove my friend's truck back from Kirksville to St. Louis with his dogs in the back, and through many instances of bad luck, I had a flat on a busy fucking highway on a hot day with no spare tire. I nearly killed his dogs I believe, but we pulled through it all with good planning, good people, and everything wound out fine. I even had time that night to move furniture in, hang out a little bit with other friends in the neighborhood, see Dr. Girlfriend's parents, and then, head on by the parental homestead. That is where I finally picked up my new cellular telephone.

I have a T-Mobile MyTouch Slide. I love the hell out of it. Despite a gimmicky UI, This is Android, Google's beautiful response to anything Apple. This thing has many, many useful features that I am still learning how to use. I carry it in a microfiber cloth, because the thing is so new, it doesn't really have a case that will protect it the way I would like. I'm a bit of a spazzy klutz, no doubt, and this thing will wind up like my last phone if I'm not careful.

What was especially funny is that the official release of my phone actually WAS delayed, by 2 weeks. Somehow I signed up on the right lists, and gave my email address to the right people. I had a new phone waiting in the back of the store with my name on it 2 weeks before release day. Anyone reading this who has a MyTouch Slide, I likely got mine 2 weeks before you did. It felt really cool to me, to be on the relative cutting edge of technology, at least as far as QWERTY phones on the T-Mobile network go. Yay.

Apparently as far as applications are concerned, I realize that Android is the underdog in the smartphone world. Blackberry leads the world, followed closely by iPhone. But this is an awesome phone nonetheless, and for my money, I choose open-source. The free magic I have no idea how to practice is the magic I choose to embrace.

Long Live Google!

-The0

Aeroplane

Well, this is going to be a little fun.

I’m sitting at a near abandoned airport gate, waiting to board the smallest public flight in my life. Faint muzac plays just barely audible over the whir of the air conditoning. It has been so long since I was last in an airport I had forgotten to wear easily removable shoes. Between work, sleep deprivation, and general excitement for this trip, I decided the first thing I had to do once I had found my gate was get some caffeine in me. This was a daunting task, it turned out. They have machines with card readers, but it seems they don’t like to work without a cell connection to their mainframe, I suppose. Undeterred, I went to an ATM, and withdrew a bit of cash. With bills too large to be accepted by the machine, I tried to make change out of a machine which did not want to work with me either. Frustrated, I went to the nearest actual Starbuck's kiosk, expecting them to tell me that my money was no good either. Fortunately, I was able to walk away with a large frappucino.

Waiting for the boarding to occur, I made a single serving friend with a fellow passenger, on his way to pick up a truck. A mystery man sits in the back of the aircraft, and a woman just across from my SSF, presumably a native of my destination, Kirksville, Missouri. We are flying in a six seater dual engine aircraft, a Piper Navajo, model pa31-350. We have leveled off at 8150 feet, flying at a steady 150 knots. The lovely thing is as I stare as these little black keys, we are actually flying low enough to catch glimpses of the earth through the sporadic cloud cover. We must still be closer to St. Louis, because I either just saw some sort of refinery, or the Science Center.

This is a multipurpose trip which happily came together. Barely. My best friend, mentioned in a recent post, has finished his education at AT Stills University. His life is progressing and happily bringing him back to St. Louis, for the time being. I was there to help move him to Kirksville, and now I am en route to help move him back. I’m excited for it. On the way back to StL, we are going to stop through our college town, and of course, see a couple of the important alma mater sights, and coincidentally, the old bike shop. As a gift to my astounding Dr. Girlfriend, I spent some of my recent superfluous overtime earnings on an Electra Boney Finger 3i. Electra is one of the last companies that actually builds a quality cruiser bike in the United States, and it so happens that not only am I a fan of Electra, but my mechanic is a dealer of them (this might be a causal relationship, come to think of it.) As mentioned earlier, I will happily do my business through him for the rest of my life. Hell, if I have enough left by the end of this biking season, I may just purchase another cruiser for myself. They are quite baddass, and pictures will follow. Oh yes, there will be pics.

Hell of a bit of turbulence when you’re in something this size. Not my first time on a small aircraft, just my first time on a small land plane, not a sea plane. Experiences from my trips on those will come later. This trip nearly didn’t happen because I was scheduled to work almost all the way until the wire's edge of timing. I was barely able to get to the airport with time to spare for my check-in. I’m quite glad to be flying. The ticket cost was a fraction of the gas cost, and the transit time just over a third of what it would have been if I had driven. We’re beginning our descent now, after a 50 minute flight, at 175 knots, -650 feet per minute.

If you were bored by reading this, I’m not sorry. I find this exciting as hell. Flying web log post. Started in an airport, written during a flight, and finished on the ground

Quite a respite, a fleeting flight.

-The0

Prince of the Mods

But not like the Scooter-riding, Italian suit-wearing Mods. You see, in spirit of my previous post post, I thought I might divulge my aforementioned compulsion. A spirit of change, the winds of non-conformity!

I have this fluid theory on life. "Nothing is truly yours until you modify it." Modification! Change in order to make something more to your liking. This can be as complex as a total overhaul of your car, as ho-hum as adding a part to your bike, or as simple as changing the settings on your cell phone. So long as you make it better to your liking, it's your thing. Your object, your mirror reflecting who you are to you, and to the rest of the world. It's a conversion to conversation piece from stock NIB item. It's materialistic, but it doesn't have to be.

It can mean modifying one’s self too. Taking effort to change for better or for worse. A workout regimen, a tattoo, or a drug addiction. Whatever moves you forward. I feel like I owe it to myself to undertake the task that makes my life better to my liking. Fluidity, Improvement, Personalization, and Movement. It's like Kung-Fu zen. Or just plain metal. I don't care. No! It's metal. There, that's my stink on the idea.

This philosophy came forth during a period where I was starting to get into bikes and computers. I got my close friends to subscribe to the idea as well. It's come to the point where the only ones who know what's going on with our stuff, is us. Awesome times, to be sure. I make it a point to modify my computer at least every six months (it helps to keep it closer to the cutting-edge, if you will.) My bikes get tweaked monthly. My sax? I tune its springs as they fall out of tune. I do this to pretty much everything.

It seems like a good way to go through life. You'll always be able to find something to do. You'll always be richer for some experience, and if nothing else, well, at least you tried to do something new. It's a lifestyle. Change to your liking. Change to you. Essentially, it's like being yourself, but with an effort-filled, yet subdued way. Comment with questions if you're confused.

-The0

P.S. (reference) The title is only Prince, because Vince Noir is King of the Mods. (/reference)

Black and Red

Just before I went to college, I needed a way to transport myself. As I did not yet have a driver's license, and never really had access to a car anyway, it came down to a simple choice: Walk, or Bike. I had a high-quality Schwinn that my parents had actually bought for my little brother. He was already driving himself to and from school, so I claimed it as my own. This was my first foray into cycling, which was one of the costliest and most beneficial decisions I have made in my life.

During my sophomore year I began to ride with my best friend, who was a pretty aggressive extreme sports enthusiast. Through riding with him, I learn how to launch myself off of tall objects and then, while remaining mounted on the bike, land with the rubber side down. Everything was was progressing swimmingly, from skill to stunt complexity, until we started breaking our rides. We needed to find a machine that would keep up with our riding ability.

Since I already had a Schwinn, I had the old catalogue, in whihc I circled a couple of wish bikes. During a random trip to a bike shop about a half hour away, my friend pointed out a dual suspension bike just sitting in the store. About a week later, I was owner of one of my wish bikes, a 2001 Schwinn Rocket 88 Stage 4. Due to a compulsion which I will explain in a later post, it wound out being phenomenally upgraded, tweaked, decorated, broken, repaired and customized over the course of our riding careers.

We both had our bikes of choice, and this one was mine. When you ass spends that much time in a certain saddle, hunched over in a guaranteed position, you start to form a bond. I freaking love the Rocket. One evening, after a strenuous free day of simple stunt practice, my friend and I leaned our respective bikes outside of our fraternity house. I came back out to a horrible truth: My lovely Rocket had been stolen. A quick review of the surrounding area, plus a driving-mad-through-town excursion (I had gotten my license by this point) turned up neither hide nor hair of it. I was crushed. After hundreds spent and hours burned making it my masterpiece, it was simply gone. I couldn't quit sobbing. That was September of 2005. I still have a copy of the police report.

Let's fast forward to July, 2007. I was awoken one morning to a call from my old bike mechanic in my college town. Through his own efforts, he had distributed a description of the bike to all the bike shops within an hour of the town. Because of the insane amount of modification I had made to the Rocket, it was a total bastardization and amalgamation of cycling genres. A light trailbike with downhill racing brakes, XC drivetrain components, and stunt tires. It had shown up at a store a half hour away, having been brought in for service, presumably by a relation or friend of the fucker who stole it. The shop owner recognized it, called my mechanic, who then called me. I was speechless, and flustered out a thank you after collecting the number to the other store. I paid them to bring the bike just out of limbo, and then took it home a week later.

Later on in the following year, I dropped a massive amount of money to get it past its former glory, right into semi-pro condition again. I of course did all this through my man in my college town. Doing all my business through him for the rest of my life seems like a fair way to express gratitude. After all, I might never had seen my black and red abomination again if not for his effort and work on it in the first place. Some significant food for thought. What if I had done every bit of the modding myself? What if my friend and I never chanced upon his local shop? What if...

The moral of the story is multi-faceted. Keep loyal to your merchants. Write down your serial numbers. Lock your shit up. And after all of that, don't lose hope. Things that are taken from you are only things, and if they are truly meant to be yours, they'll come back.

Materialistically Yours,

-The0

Edit: 06/12/2010

I think it proper to add a picture, in order to really express the feel and love in this bipedal locomotion device.

Coincidence by Design?

I was driving back from a tap-house with a friend when a certain part of DJ Tiësto's live show at Dance Department in 2001 started playing over the vehicle's stereo system. It's hard to find a recording of this, and it's a trance track, so it's all one massive song. Still, I turned up the volume starting at 45:46, and showed my friend the melody that played.

Directly after that, I pulled out the CD and inserted Mutter, Rammstein's 3rd album. I advanced it to Ich Will, and had him listen to the bridge verse. Sure enough, a very similar melody played off of Flake's keyboard. We're talking 95% the same. Mutter was released before DJ Tiësto's live show by about 6 months. Did DJ Tiësto copy Rammstein, or was it simply a coincidence?

The idea I'm actually trying to bring up here is the point which came up seconds later in that very car ride. With the amount of musical groups out there, the finiteness of the musical spectrum, and the amount of popular material out there, it is nearly impossible to create original musical material. Everything will sound similar to something, be it Ich Will, Beethoven's 9th, Dethklok, or Vivaldi's Seasons. The very tune you may have idly whistled this morning could be strongly copyrighted by a very malevolent musical group. This can lead into a popular topic of what constitutes original content any longer, and does RIAA's authority apply. If so, where? Anyone who knows anything about this, please feel free to post in the comments.

My favorite bit of unoriginal content in Rammstein would be in their song Moskau. Those who have played Half-Life and Half-Life2 will remember the Gauss gun, a gun which would wind up with a very distinct sound. This sound can be heard throughout the song, but most noticeably at 3:10, end of the bridge. In my eyes, this shows that Rammstein, if they don't like us Americans, they at least like our video games.

Winding up for a busy day by listening to good music,

-The0

C2H6O

OK, so here it is. My first, long-planned-finally-conducted drunken post. I have been wondering what a drunken post would look like for a long while now, and I think the idea for which I've actually been shooting has been to simply stream what goes through my head during these very frequent and very horrifically private times of inebriation.

Aqua Teen Hunger Force is blaring at me as I hunt down specific keys, Dana Snyder's clever interpretation of Master Shake believing again that somehow he is in the right, no matter how ridiculous the situation. Orgy's Vapor Transmission fighting for more of the sonic realm of awareness. It is winning, Eva winning over a magnificent part of attention from this current mood, feeling, and environment over to an earlier, more nostalgic part of my experience. I got this CD from a very then-close friend, right when I first moved into this apartment.

I've lived here for more than 3 years, longer than I've lived in any one place, including during college. Even back in Junior High and grade school, I switched rooms several times. This little overpriced hovel I keep now is my area, my home, my space. I'm going to miss the hell out of it. I know I have to move soon.

I think I am very glad for the fact that I kept a daily journal after the first 8 months that I lived here (14 month total of writing IN that journal, 8 months after I moved in, if that makes sense), and then, right after I gave up that, I started this blog. I think it might be a very good thing that I kept some form of chronicle. For you see, with as much as I drink lately, from job-related stresses and life-stresses in general, I may very well forget my golden years altogether. That is the reason I try to make it a point to get a regular number of posts out. To at least get a regular record of my experience out. This weblog isn't for all of you, you see, not to disregard my readership where it exists. This is for me to keep track of and categorize my memories for all time.

They say that once something is posted to the internet, it can never truly be erased. As long as electrons flow and hard drives continue to magnetically flip bits, I will remain immortal in my obscurity.

There seem to only be more questions at the bottom of this bottle, for the record.

-The0

The Dead Wings

It's finally dead. I killed it. I beat the fuck out of my dying, ancient-when-it-was-new phone. It had it coming. It was an HTC Atlas PDA phone, and I fell in love with the full keyboard and touchscreen. It was really fun, when it was new.

It was also poorly built from the start. One accidental drop will absolutely void the clips that hold on the back/battery door. This will allow your battery to disengage whenever the damn it so pleases. Massively annoying. And the touchscreen of such a phone then was ridiculously brittle. You bump a counter top with the thing in your pocket, you can kiss the screen goodbye, or at the least, the touchscreen. Say hello to operating your voice mail with the keyboard open. On the last iteration of this battery fumble, I rapped it, in simple frustration. This rapping, no more severe than I had given it AFTER the touchscreen broke, shattered the screen. I was fuming, and smashed the thing mostly into a hulk of itself. Somehow, it CAN still receive calls, the best plus I can give it this far into the game.

Not that I'm EVER going to want to place another call on a Windows phone ever again. Windows Mobile 6 is a fat, steaming pile of shit of an operating system, especially on a 200 mHz processor. There are absolutely NO fun or useful applications or features that can be downloaded for WinMo6. It had a rudimentary web browser which could make it all the way to YouTube AND download a video that would exceed its minuscule memory reserves, only to find that wasn't the ONE type of video media the little piss-wad would play.

3g service wasn't precisely fresh then, but it wasn't old-news. Still, fuck that feature. GPS, nil, reliable boot-up, null. Hard reset required once a month? You bet your fucking ass.

I'm sticking with my provider, but fuck Windows. I love you Microsoft, but you fucked me over just as much as HTC did then. I'm going HTC again, thinking that they've improved themselves, but the future of cellular communication is Android, I think. As others of my clique have said, it's good that there is a reliable competitor for iPhone. God bless you Google.

My phone of choice releases in 11 days. Here's hoping it doesn't sell out before I can get one.

-The0

Zombie Walk!

So, a couple of weeks before Halloween last year, I heard of the concept of a Zombie Walk. It's like a flash mob, only instead of everyone just showing up, everyone shows up as zombies. They lurch about town, stopping traffic and generally making unaware citizens give weird looks.

Having no idea how to coordinate a flash mob, and given that the time frame was so small, I did nothing about my desire to actually participate in one. I perused the web and found that there were couple of really good ones that occurred in St. Louis and a couple of other cities. It sounded fun.

I think the idea of a flash mob is to simply show up with approximately NO warning, thus planning a flash mob is a little counter-intuitive. Nevertheless, I have decided that by the time Halloween rolls around this year, I will have organized and conducted a successful Zombie Walk.

There are a lot of fun variations off of which you can play. People running away, being caught up, horded by zombies and coming up as an infected. You could get zombie hunters, even dress up your dog. We could even try and play up some publicity, maybe litter flyers to a certain charity, or simply raise zombie awareness. There are so many options and things to plan, which is why I've started now.

The tentative date is October 23rd, and we're thinking somewhere in the University City Loop. More details are certain to follow. Here's the Facebook link.

And remember: BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAINNSS!!!!!

-The0

Shark

Yet another Rammstein Video! Haifisch! Another ecstatic review! Commence!

Of course, you'll need to see it. Here is a link, but depending on the country in which you reside, you may not be able to see it. Partial world banning. Fun! (Side note: It is odd that they used Myspace. Maybe it's still big outside of the US.)

The song, which reminds me a bit of earlier The Clash, is itself based loosely on a verse of the song Die Moritat von Mackie Messer, known more commonly as Mack the Knife. Instead of having teeth, the shark has tears, which seems to imply that even monster-ish murder machines can have sensitive feelings. The actual verses to the song tell a story of solidarity and fellowship among the band mates. Keeping that in mind, we turn to the video.

This is another Rammstein video which tells a story, rather than an abstract collection of scenes or 0f them simply playing their respective instruments. In it, Till Lindemann, the vocalist, has apparently died. As the video progresses, we learn of opportunities each band member has had to murder him, or ways they actually did murder him. It's a little unclear. The average Rammstein fan will notice that these murder scenes are from previous Rammstein videos. Without Till, the band starts to fall apart and hate each other. It's actually quite arrogant and aggrandizing, but I love it all the same.

Of course, it's not Rammstein without something disturbing and/or wrong in the video. There's enough of that to garner attention, but what grabbed my eye a couple of times were Rammstein's winks at other popular metal acts. Marilyn Manson is in attendance at the funeral, and James Hetfield of Metallica sent a postcard or something.

Summarily, it's an engrossing video, and it takes a few views to try and get all of it. The hate that surfaces at the death of a friend is an actual reaction that has occurred at funerals, I understand. Watch the video, and then for fun, watch all the others, and see if you can figure out from which the reworked scenes came!

-The0

Through the Fire and the Flames

It's a little odd, the way some jobs can affect one's psyche and confidence. First off, I wish to call to mind a specific scene from the movie Go. In said scene, a father is stitching a bullet wound up on his son, talking about how there are no real promotions in life any longer. What simply occurs is the man ahead of another man fails at his job, and the other man moves up to replace the previous man's incompetence. This seems to be the way of his world, my question however, it what if something similar to the reverse happens?

What if a man can move up the ladder in skill and ability, but the replacement for his former position is not as enthusiastic or competent at the job as the man he is replacing? Does it speak poorly on the training abilities of the the ladder-climber? Does it reflect the difficulty of the job on new man? Should the person who moved up, move back down, and restart the whole process? Or should he maintain his new position, proud of the progress he's made, cast to naught the duties he once considered so important? Is it a prideful move, or one of quiet dignity?

I don't think I would make a very good boss. I would get bogged down thinking about this and the feelings of employees, instead of just bossing them around, which is what bosses are paid to do.

Well aware of the danger of his words,

-The0

Dendro-dander

I fucking hate pollen. Here I am, saving money by opening my window instead of turning on my damn air conditioner. Then here's some beautiful-ass tree outside of my window, spraying pollen all over my room and things. Yellow dust, everywhere.

Now, I realize that I could simply close my windows, turn on my air-conditioner, be happy and quit complaining, but this shit was EVERYWHERE!!! From my keyboard to my TV, a fine gold powder which wasn't gold powder.

It's not like I can get revenge either. I can't reverse the situation, go outside and spray my genetic material all over this tree. It'll be exhausting in the first place, secondly I'll get hurt (probably.) Lastly, well, I'll probably get one of those little blue squares put over my home on an online map.

Why can't we arrest trees for being sexual offenders?

-The0

April 1

OMG! I ws txting 2 my bff Walt dat i m goin to quit my bl0g cuz it takes 2 much tyme! Latez!

-The0

Placement Agencies are like job hunt butcher shops.

I have always been the kind to think about work while I'm at work, and that may be the reason I'm never the best at my job. Doing so, however, leaves me with revelations and realizations that I carry with me for quite a while, so I may just keep doing it.

One epiphany was that the job you perform is what you contribute to society. The harder you work, the more you produce, the more money you get. You then use this money to get things that you need or want that others have produced in the same society. It's like a standardized, long distance barter system. There was more to it, I'm just paraphrasing.

Another breakthrough that I had recently was that some jobs just don't fit some people. I remember back in college they had these tests which I would have been able to take which would magically be able to read my then-personality and tell me exactly what kind of job I should have been looking for. I think I ended up taking one of them, but never following through.

What I have begun recently is looking for a place where I can take these tests again. While I have been known to bitch about work before, it seems to be coming to a head in which I am losing a lot of my personal life to my job. I'm not very happy with my progress, and what I do was something that for a time, I loved doing. I dread every morning now.

If I had to start searching again, I'd start by finding out if there's a test to find a job I won't hate in 6 Months.

-The0

Annuals

Contrary to my best projections, I somehow not only managed to fall happily in love with someone who is perfectly awesome, but I managed to keep her with me, and myself attached to her, for a year. It has been one year since our first date! Fantastic Joy! Yay!

Has it ever occurred to anyone but me how fluid an anniversary can be? You can celebrate the anniversary of any date you specifically remember. First email, first kiss, first date, first year going steady, first year being married, et cetera. So my question among this fluidity becomes, when a couple starts celebrating a new date of anniversary, does the old one become forgotten? Does it have a new meaning? I'm excited to see what the future holds, and frightened to think of how many special days I'll accidentally and brazenly forget.

Our entire evening started out late. we wanted to make a tradition of having drinks at the place of the previous date, a media/art event, and then finish with a dinner at a new place. Sadly, we barely made it to the Arts event in time. The Fantasticks, as presented by the St. Louis Repertory Theatre. More of a "parents" play. There was a really weird song about rape in there. But it was rape in a classical sense, which made it okay. Somehow? Anyway, we were next to the youngest people there.

Dinner we enjoyed at Brio Tuscan Grill. Great meal. Nice crisp salads, creamy pastas. slightly disappointing desserts, but I was stuffed to the gills anyway.

Enough of this Blather! Happy Anniversary, Dr. Girlfriend! I love you!

-The0

Null Option

Have you ever really thought about what it is to tell someone, "No"? Have you ever considered the effects it has, the conditions it implies? I recently did, and I think I came across something.

It literally can represent the closing of a door. It takes away the option of doing something, regardless of the situation in which it is presented. The Nay-sayer may or may not get his way, but it also shows another attribute.

Strength. The strength of will and character to demand one's own conditions. The clarity of thought or at least the headstrong ambition to desire something in a certain way. An amazing power, to have the gumption to refuse something.

Taking what he can get,

-The0

I sometimes call her Cindy, too.

After a long and harrowing journey through a forest of self-doubt, fiscal insolubility, dirty work and frustrating emotions, I finally get to give some love to the one who has mostly been there for me almost every day. The one who is always waiting there for me after a grueling day of horrid work.

Aschenputtel. My 1999 GMC Yukon. Pewter. SLT trim package. 5.7 liter Vortec V8. At 186,000 miles, she's old, but she holds.

I got her back in the winter of 2006. She was a replacement for my first truck, RosenRot (Rose Red in German) which through poor driving and inclement weather wound up wrapped around a tree. The details of that story will come forth some day. I missed that truck, and my relationship with this new one was rocky at the start. But we came to terms quite well. She cools me down after a hot day, and heats me up on a cold night. She handles well, and accelerates quickly enough. I've gotten into trouble with her, and gotten out of almost as much.

The name was actually the hardest part about this coming to terms. Following in the tradition of RosenRot, I had to come up with several agreeing factors. Itemized with examples from RosenRot:

• German fairy tale character. RosenRot was Rose Red.
• Name matches with color. RosenRot was red.
• Must have a Rammstein track that matches attitude AND has the word or name. Rosenrot, from the album Rosenrot.
• Name shortens nicely into a nickname. Rosey.

Aschenputtel was the German Cinderella, from the far more brutal Brothers Grimm version. Her pewter tones are grayish and ashy. Her track, Asche zu Asche, comes from the fourth track of the first Rammstein album, Herzeleid. And her nickname, Ashley, has a bit of sultry appeal to it.

I've had a couple of accidents with her, and through a malicious claims adjuster (not lying, he wanted to buy my poor girl as scrap and keep it for himself) she is totaled. A rebuilt wreck, a Phoenix from her own ashes. I will never be able to sell her, and I don't want to. She is my baby.

On Tuesday I gave her a beyond-well-deserved detailing. She gleamed, and when you look at it just right, her chrome bumper smiles back at you. Stay strong, Ashley.

Dr. Girlfriend approved this post.

-The0

Money is made of cotton, not trees.

Being flat-ass broke can really suck. Not having the cash to make ends meet is one thing, and with good willpower, it can be mostly avoided. But add in your randomly generated hardships and fines (I think they're called "Adulthood") and you get to a point where you have nowhere to turn.

This is a test of of your ability to dodge, I believe. While you're working up the funds to pay off various authorities and your own misaligned debts, you must learn how to stay out of their contact. When they start sending you the angry letters, that when you call them, and spin your regular bullshit. Next stage is the higher class bullshit. Once you get close enough to the end of the line, usually you can come clean, and at least bargain a very small initial payment.

This is all very bad practice. The good thing to to is to keep a very solid track of your current balance, and try to foresee the payments you will have to pay. One could try keeping a handy cushion of cash about for those little emergencies. But goddamn, if I had that kind of cash lying around, I wouldn't be bitching about not having any.

The hurdles were cleared with some significant help from loved ones. But still, it's a big forest.

Not accepting donations,

-The0

Rammstein & Amerika: Cold Shoulders

So, in my post regarding Rammstein's latest video, I related what it was like to see my beloved Rammstein live. A total joy, of course. The images still burn in my brain, their Mutter world tour. But the sad fact is that was very nearly nine years ago. I'm beginning to fear I'll never be able to afford to see them again.

Why? Because for some reason which I cannot understand, they haven't visited America since then. I might say it's political, or something wrong with their fan base. The simple fact remains that unless I pony up the cash for a trans-Atlantic trip and concert ticket, I might never get to see them live again. Long lost would be the days of smoke, fire, tinnitus, and strange fluids.

There may be a bit of hope on the horizon though. They have a Facebook fan page, which I have of course joined. This fan page endorses yet another fan page. One of those "If 1 million people join, then..." pages that rarely seem to work. Still, it IS the endorsed page, and a man can dream. Won't you help us? Won't you help yourself?

-The0

Yeah, It's exactly what it looks like

Sorry. I needed a cop out. I'm tired.

-The0

'Bout that time again, eh chaps?

Well, in spite of all likelihood, I made it another year. This is the day where every either takes their closest friend and shows him or her the meaning and privilege of that station, or bitches how how their closest friend is either not close enough or non-existent. That's a flowery way of saying: It's Valentine's Day, you're either on a date, or still single.

I honestly had a prediction that I would be single again at this point, but I have been very pleasantly surprised. This year I was of course working on this actual Valentine's Day, but our following day is going to be quite special. We're going to our favorite sushi place, I'm going to give her gifts, and all will be well.

I never did get around to getting the things which have been in my loyal servitude any gifts though. The computer got its upgrade true to schedule, and Ashley, bless her engine, is still churning out the miles. Let's just say it's a good thing I live so close to work. She'll get a treat soon too, I hope

To all of those single out there, I have been through your fire, and I know how it seems. I'm not going to pretend, though. Nothing I can write will really steel you or bring you out of an angry state, or pull you down from your self-made single-seater cloud. If you're brooding, brood. Some women find that sexy. If you're on top of the world, might so well as do what I did last year.

Happy Valentine's Day! I Love You, Dr. Girlfriend!!!

-The0

Money Kills.

Let's get this out of the way first. I love money. I love that these little electronic numbers and green slips of paper get me toys, food, and occasionally out of trouble. This issue is, I have only found one way to make these things accrue.

Working. And for the time being, I hate working. Pains in the ass, forever-irritable managers, stress abounds always. It's like no matter how early before my shift I pop in (free of pay, by the way) there's always some new issue, some other thing which has to be done, or some emergency which will become my responsibility. A lot of the joy from my job has been removed, and the art of it all is feeling beyond dead.

As much as I hate working though, I hate being broke more. I think. It's a definite conundrum, especially in that I don't think i'm making enough friggin' money to get toys AND food AND stay out of trouble. I already got rid of toys for my daily needs list, and food is scarce. Morale low.

-The0