August 2002 Archives
Richard Williams has no class. He even admitted it. But his thought process behind it is a bit odd.
Today, I told Nikon to send back my camera without repairing it. I sent it in a month ago because the lens stopped extruding when powered up. It was within its warranty period, and they gave every indication that it would fixed under warranty at no cost to me. I checked the repair status after two weeks. They had "re-estimated" the camera and said I had to pay $181 for a new lens due to sand damage. (I paid $400 a year ago.) It's never been to a beach, so the "sand" must be pocket lint. I asked if they could send me a picture of the damage as proof. This is what I received. Now, the numbers you see aren't the serial number on my camera. I fell I have them cornered, trying to pull some wool over my eyes, so I sent an e-mail to confirm it. I get one saying that, "yup, them's the serial numbers." I called to tattle-tell on them, and expect an apology. Instead I get an explanation that I was misinformed. Then I got a new picture in the e-mail. So it really was my camera. Maybe I can fix it myself.
I don't know what Elopacious means, but Jason know Dooce and Jon, and they got married in Yosemite. Their pictures are to die for.
One of the items on our registry is a collage picture frame from The Pottery Barn. The view project shows a great idea of how to fill up the frame. I have a feeling that it's going to be filled with pictures of us, though.
Halloween at our house was always too much fun. We had "ghost" stuffed full of crumpled newspaper that slid down a rope to scare the kids. In later years, it dropped directly in front of you from above. (much scarier). One year, my dad dressed in a mechanics jumpsuit, donned a mask and hid in the bushes with the electric hedge clippers.
In this century, it seems like it's all about technology and the ludwig house is the place to go to learn more.
I have long dreamed of owning an Porsche 911 Turbo. Black. Zero to 60 mph in 4.2 seconds. Wow. Sergei Fedorov is selling his on e-bay. So far, bids are up to $109,000, but the reserve of $134,000 hasn't been met. Like they say, bid early, bid often. Good luck
I was looking at the site stats tonight, and noticed one from the weather.com domain. Looking at the details, it was referred from a Yahoo! search for "weather channel sucks," where I am sixth on the list of the results. I find this strange for two things: 1) I dig the weather channel. It does not suck. I don't believe I have ever said otherwise.2) This must be some effort by weather.com to investigate their dissenters, and try to win them over.
Earlier, I alluded that moving sucks. Well...it does. The past week and half have been consumed with my life in different boxes, stored in three places in my parents house. It has been so consuming that the wedding has taken a back seat. It's finally winding up with the tremendous help from our families. We worked hard to clean our places and leave them in order for the next tenant, but upon receiving the keys to the new place, we saw that we had to do it all over again. We found dust that had been there for years, the open freezer door greeted us with ice and toaster strudel icing frozen in the ice. It's no wonder why it wasn't melting, it was still plugged in. From the grime on the stove (and the food left in the cupboards), you could tell what meals were had for the past years. Little gremlins emerged from the mold in corners of the house, and dust bunnies ran rampant across every floor. An afternoon and evening later, it two years of lazy maleness was 70% gone. Now the boxes are taking the places of the brooms and sponges, and furniture fills the corners. Eventually, our things will be on the selves and in the drawers and it will become home. As much of a pain in the ass it is, moving does have its rewards. It definitely keeps life interesting and fun.
I did learn one thing about myself through all this: If I am moving, I sweat. Heavily. It doesn't matter how warm or cold it is. If there's a box and I am filling it with my stuff, my bodily immediately begins to heavily perspire. It starts at my head and works its way down. Little drops of RobbyB rain down on anything that I lean over. To try to stop this from happening, I wipe my brow with the bottom of my t-shirt, which becomes just as wet as the V around my neck, and the large U running down my back. So wet in fact, I feel like I should be at a wet t-shirt contest. Now that's an image for you.
Whois? Youis! uses the Google API to find where your name appears in websites across the internet. Some of my favorites of my name are:
- Robby is a lot better driver than the cars we've given him. (according to...)
- Robby is not a program. (according to...)
- Robby is an electrically operated high/low, shower and toilet chair that allows the carer to work at an optimal height. (according to...)
- Robby is a dynamic logic game that will amaze you with the unusual idea and addictive interface. (according to...)
- Robby is now available FULLY MECHANIZED at a price that is too good to be true. (according to...)
Earlier, I couldn't figure out why Jennifer and Brad make the headlines with such meaningless news. But I think Beth hit it on the head in her comments in the earlier post. This is actually a 'real' couple living in relatively 'real' marriage. Also, her latest movie always seems to get mentioned in every report. Could this be a publicity effort by the production company or herself to retain her image as a good wife to Brad, as opposed to her character in the movie who has an affair?
Why is it that I attract the dumbest drivers around me? My job has me traveling to Milwaukee at least once a week. On the return trip there's always at least one driver that proves driving should be a privilege and not a right.
Yesterday, I was following a 'child-molesting' van (big with no windows) in a line of cars in the left lane averaging 75 mph. Not too bad, except that the van kept accelerating and then braking to correct themselves. That's annoying, but not annoying enough. Meanwhile, a woman keeps appearing on my right side, passing me and then slowly getting passed back. Over time, the line of cars I was in had grown substantially, and she obviously thought that she was better than everyone else in her green Neon. After the line passed a car in the right lane, she would race ahead on the right, only to get slowed by another car in and have to return to her position at the end of the line. (Which, for some time, was directly behind me.) On her next attempt, I could see the drivers in front of and behind me accelerate to fill the spacing so that she wouldn't be allowed in the line, thus sending her farther back in line. Subtle group road rage, but effective nonetheless. After about ten attempts at moving herself forward, she fell way back after we entered a construction zone, and I thankfully never saw her again.
Why is this story newsworthy? Beth, maybe you could help me out on this one. Is this news?
Moving Sucks. I don't think there is a more tactful way to say that and mean exactly that. Living in Downtown Madison is a beautiful thing. Moving in Downtown Madison is hell. Every single (95%) landlord's leases end at High Noon on August 14. The next year's lease doesn't start until Noon on August 15. If you do the math, there's 24 hours, including a night, that most of the young professionals (read: me) and the students (read: Kris) in the downtown area that do not have a place to sleep. I am lucky enough to have my parents' house to crash at. Others aren't so lucky. U-Haul, realizing the opportunity to make some serious coin, only rent their trucks for 4-hour blocks, and they are usually reserved by June 1. People that don't have a storage locker or nearby parents must, and usually do, sleep with their belongings outside their new place, hoping that it doesn't rain. The most insane notion is that most students don't stay in the same apartment for more than one year. They move either for new roommates, or a new view. Either way, the result is run-down apartments whose rent is three times the value of the place. Thus, you spend countless hours cleaning stains from the previous tenants on the day you move out, and the day you move in.
This year, after my seventh year of habitation in Downtown Madison, I got a wicked head start out with the help of my dear family and we got smart and rented a truck from a nearby town. With more furniture than ever added with the merging of two lives and their belongings, it should be an interesting year.
But the heat, dust, sweat, boxes, tape, and junk still sucks.