Servicing The Car: Confessions of a Geek.

My truck has been making this funny noise for a while now. I really really really need to take it in for a service check but I hate doing it. Every time I turn my truck in for service I'm at the mercy of some who knows I don't have a clue.

So I'll call up and say, "Yes, my car is making a funny noise"

"Right. Bring her in!"

Obviously they cannot diagnose funny noises over the phone, that's not surprising. But what they can diagnose over the phone is a sucker. Which means when I drive up and get out, they know that I am a complete car moron. Mechanics love this. It means that they can say anything they want and I have to respond with, "Ah.. well that makes sense."

So I pull up and get out...

"So, did you hear that noise?"

"Yessir. Yep I sure do."

"Any idea what that is?"

"Well sir, that is probably the rear bushing. We need to see it and align your torque sensor."

"My what sensor."

"You torque sensor. Hopefully that's not blown!"

"Would that be bad if it had?"

"Well..." The technician holds back the laughter, "It sure wouldn't be very good would it?!"

"Ah. No, I mean. I guess not. How much are we talking here?"

"Well we won't know that till we slap her up on in the grease nest and see. How long have you been hearing this?"

"A week or so."

"Ah... well then, I imagine that the torque sensor has started to effect other systems by now."

"Really?"

"Yep. They'll do that you know."

"I didn't actually..."

"Well the manifold will start recalibrating it's alignment. So we'll have to give it the full overhaul."

"You still haven't said how much this will cost me yet..."

"Do you have a second mortgage?"

"No."

"Good. "

"That's not funny..."

"Sorry.  Let me have the keys and and we'll try to fix it by next weekend."

"That long?"

"Well, it's not easy work. I mean we have to drain the pan, and rework the hoses before we can even get to the torque sensor. Then we plug in the diagnostic station and run a full baseline. After that it's just test and retest until were sure the groove is wearing correctly."

Sigh..."Ah.. well that makes sense."

You Made Me Fat: A Blog of Blame

I started a new blog project. Something for the emotional binge eaters who need a need a platform for anonymous confession.

You Made Me Fat  Confessions of emotional eaters: A cathartic blog of blame.

In my mind this is a place for people to share what stresses or joys have led to a more full figure.  I of course will be adding my own revelations but will also be taking submissions. I'm am hoping for a bunch of emotional eating confessions.

Anonymous will be presumed, but of course if you want to be named I'll be happy to link back to your site as well. Check it out, and look for new content, or help add to that new content.

See the blogs sidebar for submissions. Send me a couple paragraphs, a couple words or just a picture.

Trust me, you'll feel better...

Giving Myself An Ulcer

I'm giving myself an ulcer. It's an early birthday present. I haven't done anything nice for me in a while and thought maybe I should correct that. So this is what I came up with. Loads of unnecessary stomach acid churned with my doubt, anxiety and penchant for eating away all my troubles. A truly unique present, that is presently always present.

So... We bought our house in January of 2005. What many now realized to be the highest peak of the California housing market in the last 20 some odd years, if not ever.  We sunk in about $100,000 of money that we made from a previous sale. After 7 years of blissful homeownership we have turned that $100,000 worth of equity into -$30,000.  I put it in red becuase it's so much more festive that way...

Hang on, I need a Tums.

Sigh. Okay, where was I? Right, drowning in a sea of former equity and listening to the sound of my stomach digesting its own lining.

One morning, in the not too distant past my lovely bride of 14 years turns over in bed and says, "Peter. I want to sell our house"

Not exactly what I was expecting, but okay. We had walked this path before about a year earlier and I had already decided that we couldn't possibly get what we needed to out of this place this we lovingly refer to as, "The place where our future died a cold and meaningless death." It's hard to put that on envelopes so we normally just abbreviate it as "home."

"We looked at the market just recently"
"I know, but I think it's possible."

After a brief conversation, I decided to acquiesce. I mean who cares what I think? If I'm right nothing will come of it and if I'm wrong... well, then we can sell this place and move into something more suitable.

"Let's try it."

So we did. And we are. The house has been on the market for about 10 days or so. I had forgotten what selling was like. The last time we sold we were in a boom market. We put our house on the market and had to beat away buyers with a stick. In fact we even got a bidding war and accepted an offer above our original listing.

That isn't what we've got now. In 10 day's we've had about a dozen and a half people come and look at it. Which means that at a moments notice we get two kids in the car and scramble around making the house look as inviting as possible. Counter tops are cleared of toys, towels, trinkets and tchotchkes.

These things are crammed in drawers, the dishwasher, the refrigerator or anywhere it will not be noticed by potential buyers. Including in the car with us.
Anyway that's been the last 10 days. Loads of lookers and no buyers. I feel like a retail clerk at the Neiman Marcus store. I have no idea what will be happening or if we will be moving or not, but the worrying about everything and stressing over things I cannot help to control is turning me into a nervous wreck.

I NEED CONTROL! I MUST HAVE THE REINS OF POWER!

*thud*

Sorry, I just passed out there.
Okay...
Calming down...
Phew...
Breathe...


I'm not sure how I'm going to top this gift next year. Maybe I'll just give myself a lobotomy...

Giving Away The Internets

Such a strange new world we find ourselves in. Something that was once a sought after commodity is now cheap currency on the world market. It used to be that the thing itself was worth something, but now everyone is just giving it away.

When did we start giving away the Internet? Who decided that we couldn't charge for this anymore? Why is everyone convinced that free Internet is what we need more of in this world? Not that I'm complaining. Well, maybe I am.

Do you remember the sound of dial-up? That sweet minute or so of anticipation while you waited with bated breath for the connection protocols to finish their handshake?

"Hello, sir"
"Good morning!"
"I'm looking for 33.6k"
"Sorry best I can do is 3200 baud"
"Ah.. are you sure? I can try back later?"
"No, no... that's the best we can do."
"Alright. Shake on it?"
"Agreed. Welcome to the Internet"

And then you were on the Internet and all else was near utopia. Chatting with people halfway around the world, electronic mail and text based gaming. Could the world possibly get any better? For me this experience cost me plenty. @ 16 I bought an AST computer for $2,100 from Circuit City.  I paid for my own phone line in my bedroom and paid monthly for my Prodigy service. And it was worth every red cent it cost me.

Now here we are in 2012 just giving it away.

Yesterday I spent most of the day setting up free WiFi in our buildings. Free. No strings attached. You connect, you get on and then browse the web for nothing. No $2100 computer, no phone line no prodigy service.

What do they think people in my office are going to use this for? Edification? Looking up facts for clients? Searches for how to replace commas in Excel spreadsheets with a return carriage? No. They can already do that on our corporate Internet connection. They will use free Internet browsing for all those things we are blocking on our corporate LAN. A direct stream to all the stuff I spend months of time try to protect the network from.

Who needs anti-virus, anti-spam, web filtering and IPS level protection when folks can now connect their corporate computers to the free Internet and get all that unhindered via the free Wi-fi?

Because people need the Internet, for checking Facebook, Googling pictures of Abraham Lincoln and reading stupid blogs...

Stealer Wheel Screwed My Algorithm

Apparently, adding Stealer Wheel to your Pandora stations is equivalent to flipping the "please play some crazy crap" toggle.





    

No, Pandora I don't want to listen to TeddyBears or Butthole Surfers...

Wireless Installation

Working in a small IT shop affords many benefits. One of the best is being able to perform so many different jobs. Today I found myself installing new wireless access points in one of our buildings.
These are little square devices that connect to the metal frameworks that support false ceilings. It allowed me to learn a couple of things.

1. Ceiling tiles are evil
2. People love to watch other people work

I have enough ceiling tile dust in my eyes, hair, ears and collected in my shoes and open pockets to tile the ceiling of a new building. I also have a pretty fare idea that I don't like the way ceiling tile dust tastes. Who needs fiber cereal when you could ingest ceiling tile dust.

"CST- The REGULATOR!"

Plus the little buggers take a downright maniacal pleasure in not functioning as designed. You can pop one out but have you ever tried to get one to re-seat properly in the framework? Impossible. Not going to happen. You need pop out an adjacent tile in order to wrap your finger around to push down the first one. Now of course you have a different tile up. Give it a wiggle. Nothing. A tap. Nada. Then you pry it, push it, squeeze it, grab it, force it, jam it and curse it. All the while teetering back and forth on your ladder trying to get some leverage on this horrible little beast!

So you end up having to pop up some 20 odd tiles moving the wedged up corner from tile to tile hoping that the next one will be slightly loose and just fall back down in place. As it was, of course, designed to do.

Luckily though, you're not alone. No sir, you've got an audience. A whole building of workers who never say hello, but will watch you out of the corner of their eye. If you turn around to look their heads whip back and they pretend that they didn't notice you.

"What? A 230lb tech wrestling ceiling tiles for the last 20 minutes? In this building?!"

Not that I really want to chat with anyone when I'm busying playing Whack-A-Mole with the tiles.

"Whatcha you doing?"
"Installing stuff"
"What kinda stuff"
"Cisco 1400 Wireless Access Points."
"For what?"
"Wireless. It's even in the name..."
"Why do you have to plug them in if they're wireless?"
"..."

So, I was on my last one of the day with very few interruptions. I'd gotten through almost all of my ceiling tile madness when someone rounds the corner and looks up at me.

"Whatcha you doing?"
Sigh... Here we go.

And then out of nowhere it came to me and I spurted this off without missing a beat:

 "As part of the new green initiative we're installing these new collectors. They absorb negative thoughts from the employees and we turn that into energy to power the servers."

He looked at me, looked up at the wireless controller and said, "Wow. What will they think of next." And then he walked away.

Unbelievable. Or, apparently not.

Puns

Yes the second lowest form of humor (just over slapstick) is on KludgeSpot. Enjoy!

I changed my i Pod name to Titanic. It's syncing now.

When chemists die, they barium.

Jokes about German sausage are the wurst.

A soldier who survived mustard gas and pepper spray is now a seasoned veteran.

I know a guy who's addicted to brake fluid. He says he can stop any time.

How does Moses make his tea? Hebrews it.

I stayed up all night to see where the sun went. Then it dawned on me.

This girl said she recognized me from the vegetarian club, but I'd never met herbivore.

I'm reading a book about anti-gravity. I can't put it down.

I did a theatrical performance about puns. It was a play on words.

They told me I had type A blood, but it was a Type- O.

A dyslexic man walks into a bra.

PMS jokes aren't funny, period.

Why were the Indians here first? They had reservations.

Class trip to the Coca-Cola factory. I hope there's no pop quiz.

Energizer bunny arrested. Charged with battery.

I didn't like my beard at first. Then it grew on me.

How do you make holy water? Boil the hell out of it!

Did you hear about the cross eyed teacher who lost her job because she couldn't control her pupils?

When you get a bladder infection, urine trouble.

What does a clock do when it's hungry? It goes back four seconds.

I wondered why the baseball was getting bigger. Then it hit me!

Broken pencils are pointless.

I tried to catch some fog. I mist.

What do you call a dinosaur with a extensive vocabulary? A thesaurus.

England has no kidney bank, but it does have a Liverpool.

I used to be a banker, but then I lost interest.

I dropped out of communism class because of lousy Marx.

All the toilets in New York's police stations have been stolen. Police have nothing to go on.

I got a job at a bakery because I kneaded dough.

Haunted French pancakes give me the crepes.

Velcro - what a rip off!

Cartoonist found dead in home. Details are sketchy.

Venison for dinner? Oh deer!

Earthquake in Washington obviously government's fault.

I used to think I was indecisive, but now I'm not so sure.

Be kind to your dentist. He has fillings, too.

Kludge Klassic: A Sneaker Suspicion

I was sitting comfortably at my desk, earning my living, when something tickled my ankle bone. This unknown then began to work its way down between my shoe and foot towards my sole. There was only the thin cotton of my sock protecting me from this unknown thing. I looked, very calmly down at my shoe, and didn’t see anything. There could be no real doubt about it though, there is something in my shoe.

I have an unnatural fear of bugs, and while some of you will not understand, the idea of an insect in my shoe makes me uneasy. I have visions of spiders, or ear wigs burrowing down into my canvas. Making themselves at home in my cross trainer, and dining on the only available meat when the urge hits them. Add to this the fact that these shoes are on thier last leg and there is a fairly large hole in the one sneaker I'm focused on. After a slight hesitation, I shoved my finger in between the shoe and sock.

“All clear Capitan”

“Proceed to Shoecom 4”

“Captain, what about the smell?”

“Move it soldier!”

I removed my shoe. Nothing. Nada. I shook the shoe violently; I know that there is something in my shoe!

“Peter…” The Boss!

“Hey Boss” I usually call him ‘boss’ especially when startled, “I was working on that TPS report you wanted for…”

“You okay?” He questioned, eying me with a slight suspicion.

“Oh… my foot hurt…that’s all.” I said, looking as nonchalant as possible. This is a little difficult with a shoe in hand.

Once the coast was clear I attacked my right sided smelly shell with a new ferver. There was something in my shoe. I was now looking for a nylon thread, or similar lifeless explanation. I've had this happen before and I was sure I would find something to explain the uncomfortable feeling from earlier. Nothing. Nada.

I left it off for a few minutes in case whatever was in there was hiding and I would soon catch with my well honed spy skills. I waited and it waited. I waited longer and it waited longer. This worked out much the way you would expect. I decided it was ridiculous.

So I put my shoe back on. It was not more than ten minutes later when something tickled my ankle bone. There is something in my shoe!

The Practice Of Dovetails

As everyone with half a brain knows, dovetail joints are the hardest joint to make in woodworking. People with whole brains however, dispute this fact and are generally more articulate at expressing their views.

I like power tools. They're fast, reliable and make for cuts that are highly repeatable. When it comes to working with hand tools, none of those things can be said about me. I'm slow, sloppy and highly erratic. Still, I'm also stubborn and pig headed, so that makes me want to continue trying something until I get it right.

Enter in the dovetails. This is a joint that proves that you have the skills required to be a craftsman. A good clean dovetail makes people want to get up a cheer. So that's the goal. cheering crowds of people when they see my joinery. I like to set reasonable expectations on all aspects of my life.

The trouble is it's actually hard. It's really hard. I don't know what I expected it to be, but hard wasn't on the list. Tricky, challenging, fun. Right fun was on the list.

Shrug. Where do we get these ideas from anyway? You see people doing this all the time.

(Some random day in May) "I want to run a marathon"
(Two minutes into marathon) "What the hell was I thinking!?"

(While watching DIY) "I want to repaint the kitchen. You know, liven things up"
(On third coat with paint in your eye) "What the hell was I thinking!?"

(Sitting comfortably at the office) "I should learn hand dovetails"
(45 minutes into chiseling out waste on a set of pins) "Don't I have a machine I could do this with?"

And in fact I do...

Lazy Thursday Blues: Magic Eyes 4

Lazy Thursday Blues!! It's been a while but here we go!

Anyone reading this that recalls the 90's craze that was Magic Eyes?! We had a giant poster sided one at my school that took me days to get. I stood there for what felt like hours trying to see anything other than a pretty blue pattern smeared on a printed sheet of paper. Even worse was standing there staring at the thing while fellow students "ooed and ahhed" at the wall. It drove me mad!

Once I finally figured it out, I felt like a treasure hunter who scored a giant pile of loot! Now, I can see them instantly. I suppose it's like riding a bike, once you conquer it, you never forget!

Be the first to post below what you see and be the first to win at being the first...