Chips & Salsa

Someone brought in chips and salsa to the office yesterday. I suppose I could stop there, because for me this explains everything. many of you will not understand, so I will try again. It's like, "I ran a thousand mines yesterday and at the finish line was a table with chips and salsa." Does that make more sense? Maybe not. Lets try again.

Let us setup a game. "Would You For Chips & Salsa?" It's something I do in my head sometimes.

Scenario #1


Absolutely. Your feet will heal in time, but chips can stale in a number of hours! Where are your priorities! On another note, I'm not sure who Bruce Wills is, but I can only hope he's an editor here to offer free services!

Scenario #2


Yes to Sumo Wrestler, Yes to Rock Biter. No to Hitchcock. I think he'd be a bit tougher to get the goods from, seeing as he obviously shares my affinity for chips and salsa.

Scenario #2.5


I'd like to say I would struggle with this. I mean there is no doubt he's evil. You can tell because I drew him red. Honestly, though telling you I'll have to think it out would make me feel better.

"All you have to do to get Chips and Salsa is to pus-"

CLICK "Now may I have chips?."

Scenario #3


So, you see, we all have our breaking points. Luckily the corner market is open till 11:30 on most weekdays. Stupid Butterflies! I hope you choke!

Popping Corn

"What you do not smell is called light nonfat butter flavored instant microwaveable popcorn. It is tasteless and dissolves into a sticky oatmeal like paste in water.

It's main purpose is to make your mind yearn for something that is akin to the greasy oily popcorn served in movie establishments. You know, the kind loaded with salt and butter that makes your complexion breakout in a billion greasy zits about 4 hours later? The main difference being that yours comes in a burned paper bag, has a consistancy akin to rubber and almost no taste at all.

In fact the only way that you can be sure it is popcorn like is due the the corn husks that burrow down in between your gums and teeth like a dozen nasty ticks in your mouth. Where three days later you find that your tongue is suffering from chronic fatigue syndrome as it vainly tries to remove them during boring conversations with co-workers and long drives in the car.

Only after you've let your mouth heal for a day or two from the incessant bleeding that comes with popcorn husk removal does your brain begin to forget all the trouble that the 125 calorie bag of popcorn caused you. Sometime after 7:34 on that night, it might say to you in an off handed kind of way,

"How do you feel about a bag of popping corn?"

"Well... That does sounds nice."

Cloakrooms

I enjoyed the random typing post so much I've decided to do another one. Okay, here goes. I'm just going to let whatever thought pops into my head out for all the world to see. This is glimpse into my brain, or a warning not to read on. Whichever you prefer. Only spell check beyond this point.

I found a random word generator. Very cool stuff, the word that came back was cloakroom. I know what a cloak is, but I though they were banned my the Khitomer Accords, unless of course you're a Romulan. Romulans can do anything they want, but except perhaps wear non-state sanctioned clothing.

If I had to chose between Romulan (emotion and manipulative) Klingons (feral warriors) and Vulcans (non emotional and logical) I would have to pick Romulan. Besides the polyester, they've got it made. Could you imagine never laughing or having to eat gagh?

I'm all out of coffee. How could this happen? What did I do to warrant such pain an misfortune. I'm a fan of coffee, I'm not a fan of super glue. I've had superglue on my hands for the last three days. It makes me high. So there is that benefit...

Does anyone remember Voltron? The lion robots that all assembled into on large robot? There was a sword that just fell from the sky. The only other show I would miss Voltron for was Thundercats. The plots were always about Mumra and Thundera, but all I wanted was to see Lion-o's sword grow. That was awesome! Why name a lion charater lion-o and a mummy character Mumra. I think all the names were eaqually stuid. Pathreo, Tygra... What in the blue blazes was that about?

I saw a guy with a Thundercats wrist band. Supergeeks are everyone, and generally easy to spot. Sure they look like losers to most folks, but we know better. They are our kings.

The Awesome Box & Expensive Socks

I own an awesome box. The outside has an awesome picture and exciting specs. Inside this awesome pictured box lives an awesome card. On this awesome card inside this awesome pictured box is joy. That joy is contained in 9600GT card with 2GB of onboard RAM and screaming fast GPU. All of this is sitting on my desk, gathering dust, loaded with potential and covered with large gaming tears.

I have made a mistake. That brings my total up to 4,099,234. After a while keeping track is sort of depressing. I found this processor and decided at this price I couldn't pass it up. With free shipping, instant savings and coupon code, I got a $150 card for $99. When it arrived I popped the case, slipped euphoria into the correct slot and felt the resounding click of PCIe engagement and freedom from anti-aliasing restrictions! Life was good. This feeling lasted all of about 2.2 seconds. The exact time that I realized I was short on power. In order to use my new card I would have to buy a $70 power supply.

Who thinks about upgrading a power supply? It's so incredibly boring! It's like... buying expensive socks. No one will ever see them. They work the exact same as economy priced socks but your new shoes require them. Seems your old socks thread count is simply too low. Sorry about that. No shoes till you spend down on a expensive pair of boring socks.

So now what? Now I've got to shell out $70 to get my card working. Which means I got a $150 card for $170 + tax. Doesn't seem quite so stellar anymore. That's all I can think of to say. Pretty box, useless card and boring socks. The stuff geek soap operas are made of.

Random Typing

This is a random typing experiment. I'm just typing whatever pops into my head. You have been warned. There will be only spell check beyond this point.

I've been thinking recently. I wanted to post a thing or two about snarl. Sometimes things that at first seem so complex turn out to be less so. There are few instances that I'm aware of more relevant than computing.

Look at it as a whole. Small currents of electricity arching over a severely engineered city. Capacitors to charge paths, resistors, terminators and minotaurs. Minotaurs are easy to spot as they have the head of a bull and a war axe. Surprisingly enough, you don't see these used as much in commercial circuit boards. The military loves them though.

There are a number of people who will not understand, or even care to understand this. These are those pro minotaur factions that believe all mythological creatures belong only in the pages of fantasy books. The truth of the matter, that they are excellent motivators for alternating current, cannot remained suppressed forever. Who cares, if they exhibit odd behaviors, like the smashing of personal property or the wearing on large rings in their noses.

Fawns. Fawns, while much more pleasant, are useless to circuit board manufactures. It turns out, being able to arrange tea cups by ascending floral patterns, and read Martha newest egg dying techniques has little bearing on the efficient flow of bits through populated circuit board. Go figure.

I was just thinking about buffalo wings. The fact is, for a long time my father had me convinced these came from real buffalo. Once I realized I'd been duped, I poured all my effort into duping others. I believe I was wholly unsuccessful. This made me sad, mostly because it hurt my pride. I just think when it comes to buffalo wings, I'm too emotionally attached to have any good bearing or judgment. If buffalo wings were ever I trial, I would not be able to tell if they were lying. I hope it never comes to that.

Is this a sign that I'm addicted to the spicy orange sparsely meated morsel? Most assuredly. As a red squiggle appears under meated, I'm genuinely surprised it isn't a word. It should be, and so I declare it to be. There. We've just made a change to a living language.

It's raining work. I'm afraid I must float back to the working world. A call to a salesperson. Sigh.

Reality

A young elven archer finds himself flung at the feet of a processing official just off a boat from some, unknown destination. I'm told that I a special, and that I must find my way in this world. It's a foreign place, full of things that I've never encountered before.

Like the insect transportation infrastructure, lizard people slaves, elven drug traffickers and some half cat woman who wants to be my friend. So I do what I always do. I slaughter wild and vicious creatures homicidal maniacs and try my best to make this strange world a better place.

Video games. What else is a geek to do from 9pm to dawn?

I've been immersed in a game that has taken longer to complete than any I've played before. I'm already well over 100 hours of game play with no end in sight. It amazes me how a game can suck you in. I've been devoting many of my free time to the well being of the inhabitants of Morrowind. Do they deserve it? Certainly not. Do like like me? Of course they do, for three reasons.

1. I do good.
2. I have a high personality roll
3. I bride anyone with a $1000 who doesn't like me.

I'm like superman with a bow and corporate backing. I've posted here before about how video games can draw me in. After a few hours of game play I stop sitting in my office chair and start roaming through the volcanic wastes looking for egg mines, ransacking necromancer hideouts or searching for the clues to the missing dwarven race. I wear green glass armor, levitate over hilltops, breathe underwater and can hit a moving target at 1000 feet with a bow and silver arrow. It's a hard world to give up. But eventually I realize I'm just another geek in suburbia with a wife, two kids and radiation poisoning from my monitor.

I'm not sure why I'm telling you this, except for the concern that one of these times, I might not be able to break the reality barrier. I might start roaming the country side with a Kmart archery set in duck hunting camouflage, attacking windmills and wearing shaving bowls on my head. If that should happen. Just stand perfectly still. I'm a lousy shot in real life.

Death Of A Friend

My friend and companion for many a long campaign has died. Together, we rid the world of dark wizards, waring tribes, and even completed the occasional word puzzle. Together we changed the course of many a planets history, raised a few million pylons, turrets and laser towers. In addition we also decapitated many guests that came to my house in search of 'a good time'. We've fought back the scourge of aliens, expanded territory and devoured more RAM than I ever thought possible.

Today, my video card is toast. Today she just gave up. The 19" flat panel screen began 'searching for signal' and I knew her time was up. I suppose there will be no more Super Mutants to slay, or NPC's to chat up for my little red friend. Looking at her lifeless form reminds me of how excited I was to acquire it. At the time of our original acquaintance 256MB of RAM was quite substantial, as my pocket book was made aware. Today, it's almost a joke.

Still for all her medium lighting settings and anti-aliasing shortcoming she did a good job. I'm sad to see her go. How sad. Of course for every loss there is also hope.

NOW I CAN FINALLY GET THAT ROCKING CARD WITH ALMOST ZERO GUILT!!! WOO-HOO! SO LONG SUCKER!

From the Editors Desk: Breakout

Gentle Reader;

This is a self serving post. That is to say, a self fulling profissey (Yes, that's really my first attempt at the word prophesy. I wonder why the Firefox spell checker just looked at it, blinked twice then blew its own brains out with a cannon. Did I mention I have trouble with spelling?)

Anyway. The point of this post is just a quick revelation. This is first month since October of 2007 that this blog has had more than 9 posts. I planed for a couple more... but I've been sick for over a week. Anyway more to come in March!

Kludge
Editor and Chief

Apple Woof

I'm feeling sick. Let me start off by stating that. I find that this statement can sometimes forgive a lot of otherwise unusual action. That being said, I probably would have sent the below email had I not been sick. We have a large recycling barrel in our area, which had the words "Apple Woof" printed on the side of it.

I have always assumed this to be a typo, and Apple Wood was intended. Either way, today it went missing. Unable to stop myself I sent out an email to the department (original spelling error corrected here)

Emergency! Someone has hijacked our Apple Woof Barrel. I'm declaring a mauve, or maybe even a magenta alert. The Apple Woof Barrel has been our helper, colleague and dare I say friend. As it sat near Christine's desk declaring for years, "You Got Junk? I'll take it!" *

Some greedy person has snatched our beloved Apple Woof Barrel for their own. Sure we've all thought about it, but none of us has ever acted on such severe Woof desires! Now serving only one master our Apple Woof Barrel must be missing us. We must not let this crime go unpunished.

Where is our Woof?

Peter Brown

*no boxes, explosives, or chimpanzees

Perhaps needless to say, I received a number of responses. Most of which were along the lines of, "I hope I don't catch whatever it is you've got."

Here's one.

User1: what the heck is the Apple Woof Barrel?
User2: Ask Peter!

To which I responded in email, to User2

You dare malign the sacred Apple Woof barrel with oblivion of it's existence? I shun thee.

Trouble is, User2 never got it... Because I sent it to the wrong person. Some innocent worker in another building who I've never met is going to be quite confused...

How do I get myself into these things?

Pork

"Why are there other kinds of meat available?"