kx59 goes hipster

A review of sorts.
I carried a hard shell brief case for decades.  The youngins in the office had backpacks or book bags with long straps which I always thought made them look like schoolboys.
Now I think, "the skinny little strap on your book bag sucks. I can see it biting into your shoulder."
Behold my MANPACK!
I ran across this sling pack quite a while back.  When I found out I'd be traveling again, I decided the brief case had to go.
This is my cell phone's fault.
I travel light with a strapped Nike gym bag which I carry in hand most of the time.
Maneuverability.
Held in front of me, it works remarkably like a rudder through the oncoming current of other travelers in the airports.
With the briefcase, no free hand for the phone.

So I got one of these:




Mine is Urban cammo, aka black.  I've had it long enough that it's dirty now.
The pockets, zippers, compartments are minimal and yet well organized.  My Ipad Mini, laptop, gum wrappers, highly important bidness papers and assorted bar receipts travel quite well in it.  The cell phone pocket on the strap I use to store a 3" maglite flashlight rather than my cell phone.
The only issue I've had is with the outside pocket, which has a a magnetic catch on it.  The magnetic catch works really well.  Putting a USB thumb drive in the pocket, I found, is not a good idea.  It became a tiny little brick after spending a day glommed to the backside of the magnet.

Other than that, two thumbs up.  I carry it every day now.

Never published weird crap I've written, found in my drafts

As a disclaimer, I might have been drinking Tito's and tonic when I wrote this, god knows when.
Also, I've never claimed to be nOrMaL

"I have ruined a brand new shirt.
I am not upset about this.
Straight out of the packaging this morning fold marks ironed out. (I iron my own) This shirt will never look this good again.
I went to put my cell phone in the shirt pocket to discover there was no shirt pocket. wtf?
Like the other shirts I bought recently, the cut on the sleeves appears to be for a cadaver; arms at sides never to be raised above the shoulders, laid out in, " he looks so life like" splendor. No pleat on the back. wtf?

What this post is really about is chopsticks and Asian food in general.
I have grease spotted my new shirt while consuming Vietnamese food from a local restaurant.
When I eat Asian, I find it a great challenge to eat with chopsticks. Now I have a reason to never wear this shirt again."

A day without a meeting is like...

Totally productive!
I loath meetings. The decisions and useful information that can be distilled out of a 6 hour meeting could be accomplished in twenty minutes or so if the participants were willing to make a decision.
However, plausible deniability seems to be a fundamental defense tactic.
" If I make a decision, and it goes South....I could get in trouble. Egads!  Quick, deflector shields UP!

I've had two whole days in a row with only one short meeting. Yesterday I got a butt load done. At the end of the day* I got in my car and realized my stress level had gone down noticeably.
Today I got a butt load done and was feeling quite peppy at the end of a 10 hour day as I got into my car.

I've come to realize meetings are sucking the life out of me. I've known, and do know people that actually love going to meetings. They tend to be the ilk who's one contribution to the discourse is, "If we used Fedex Ground delivery that would only cost $2.67."



* Stop me if you've heard this preface in a meeting before,  "At the end of the day" is the preamble to, "We've run out of time, the deadline is TOMORROW, Please make a fucking decision!"

Mindless amusement.

Happy 4th Ya'll.  I'm certainly enjoying the down time.

Playing "Red Dead Redemption" loaned to me by Son.  Third person action game on the Xbox 360.

Things are not going so well.

So Far:
I've ridden my virtual horse all over the map with out a clue as to what I am supposed to do.
Been gunned down by the town's people.*
Accidentally bought a whore house.** and now I'm broke.



*Not my fault. I was just practicing my six gun draw. Ok, I was out in the street and the auto-aim thing targeted a guy.  To my surprise, he drew and started shooting me. So I shot him.  The whole town chased me and shot me down like a mangy dog.

** Also not my fault.  Blue dot on the map. Blue "X" when I arrived at the waypoint and a HUD display popped up that read "purchase". So, I did.  Normally, dots on maps are objectives, not money pits.

I suspect there's a deep moral lesson to be learned here, but it's escaping me at the moment. I'm busy. I need to find some wanted posters and go kill some bad guys.

Forest Gump rides a bike

99.9 miles in one day.

Now, we're so old now we don't care that we're old anymore
While surfing through old pics I ran across this.
I think I was 36 when I got a hair up my ass to ride the MS150 from Houston to Austin.*
Ah, to be 36 and pencil necked again....sigh.

*Technically it turned out to be just shy of 165 miles and I should have circled a few times to round it off to an even 100 for the first day, but I was so elated that my legs had not fallen off at the knees it slipped my mind.

Still alive

But I got nuthin. This might be my longest dry spell so.....pics!

Good luck in a pot

Black eyed peas..
And cabbage!

Dx

Chezd. C e rcrrrrrrrrrrrrrdrrdr

Upon inspecting blogger I discover the current Cat, Peavey also know as "get the eff off my computer" queued up a draft post, twice no less, in Blogger, to which you have now been treated.

He needs to learn how to use the spell check.

Label: Random. Very.

Tab clearing my brain

Move in, or move out?
When we moved into the BAR Corp. HQ, the only "store" close by was a lonely Texaco gas station.
I hated the long commute to work.  As we have gotten closer (very close) to the childrens graduating college, Belle and I have mused about moving closer in to town so my daily commute isn't such a long grind.

It has gotten so crowded out here now it's beginning to bug me.  God help me, I'm leaning towards moving further out.

Doh! Biden visited the Port of Houston Today.
He gave an "inspiring" speech about things of which he knows nothing.  By "inspiring" I mean he managed not to step on his own tongue.
I can remember when it was a cool thing and big deal to have the president or vice president visit Houston.  Now when they show up my reaction is, "Oh jeez, please go back to DC before some of the fail oozes off of you and pollutes one of the few surviving economies in this country".

Fog out there this morning, drive safely.
So said the weather report this morning.
"Drive safely" apparently means drive slower than physically possible during rush hour.  I left ten minutes ahead of schedule and got to work ten minutes late.  The fog was "thick". Visibility couldn't have been more than two miles in front of my car. Thank God it didn't "rain". I might not have made it to work by quittin time.

Greetings Earthling

Hey kx59, how are we doin today?
hey, how's it going?
How ya doin?

Every now and then I'll respond with a canned, "ok", "just fine", "Ok, you doin' alright?"

My favorite thing to do though, is give a response just outside the envelope of polite platitudes.

" well, I'm still on the right side of the grass"*
"I'm still standing"
"I've been better"

Sometimes it's just the facts.

"man, I'm really dragging ass today"
"I'm sick as a dog"

My responses usually take people back just a bit, and then a nervous laugh.  Break the thin barrier of polite platitudes and they don't know how to respond.  If it's someone other than a random passerby, I smile and launch into conversation, rescuing them from their societal confusion.

It's never fails to intrigue me how little it takes to snap people out of their sleepwalk through life, nor how quickly and deeply they fall back into their ambulatory slumber.






* at the age of 19, I was told by someone I admire and respect that I had the attitude of a 90 year old.
I considered that a compliment. I should live so long.

I will never be bored on a long flight again

I'll just take my camera phone into the lavatory....and....
Wait, that seems to be headed in a rather unseemly direction.

I might just have to try my hand at creating 

15th Century Flemish self portraits.

.

Cold Calls at work

I've mentioned before that I'm not a trained IT professional but I play one at work.*
When the "support" staff cannot understand the foreign accent or the subject of the call, it MUST be IT related so the call is put through to me.
About twice a year I get a call from an Indian call center "taking a survey on our computer and network hardware" to which I reply, "for reasons of security, we do not give out that information", whereupon the indian woman on the end of the line starts getting pushy, to which my reply is, "click".
I got a call the other day from some "kid" wanting to know who the "president of the company" was.
"what is the nature of this call?"
"My boss told me to call and find out who the president of the company was"
mumble, mumble, something about a luncheon presentation next Thursday**
"And what is the subject of this luncheon?"
"My boss told me to call and find out who the president of the company was"
"you are not answering my questions and you are wasting my time."
"click"

I was called at work by the 2nd Amendment foundation again for a donation a few days ago. I never give my credit card info over the phone. I told the guy I'd make a donation online. he said, "I'll give you till Thursday"**. You...will....give....me...till...Thursday?
"yeah"
Second time in a row the 2nd Amendment telemarketers have gotten snarky with me.
Jackass.
I decided not to donate.
Now it's a toss up between writing an ass burning email to the 2A foundation, or just letting my membership lapse and gleefully hanging up on the next caller.

When I was young, I used to feel bad about telling telemarketers "no" and found it difficult to extricate myself from the conversation.  I was nicer then.  I have damn little time, energy or patience  left for bullshit anymore.  What is heard on the other end of the line these days is my fading, "no thanks, not interested" as the hand set leaves my ear on its way back into the cradle.


click.


*   Architect by day, IT McGuyver by night..and weekends...and the wee hours of the morn.  Also "help desk". "Is the surge protector turned on?".  "uhm....no." "k, turn that on, then push the power button on the computer again." "oh! there it goes!, thanks so much!" ***"Please tell me you aren't registered to vote."
** what is it with Thursdays?"
*** footnoting my footnotes - not a good sign.  That was from an actual computer help conversation...except for the last line.

About time!

Rain.
We've had an inch or two today. Well we'll see what the total is tomorrow. It's still raining. :)
This kind of rain totally freaks people in Phoenix out.  I've been delayed on flights out of Phoenix because of what we refer to as "Seattle rain" where it just pisses on you slowly. I mean really. If you notice, the rain is actually falling straight down, as in 90 degrees, also known as normal to a plane, to the ground.
OMG! it's a MONSOON!*
Srsly dude?
Down here, the reaction is, "Finally!"
We are way behind on August ball busting thunderstorms.**

Let's see.
The traffic map shows a bunch of construction zones and..
Oh! Look! anywhere from two to four morons managed to have an accident at 10:08 pm long after the "rush" hour traffic is gone.
-little red diamonds on the map.










I think I'm going to grab another brew from the fridge and go out on the front porch
and just watch it rain.



* I personally witnessed this conversation on a connection out of Phoenix.
** Yes, I"m aware it's September. I'm getting older, but I'm not that far gone.

Not Ashamed

Relieved is more like it.
Coop posts up words of wisdom.

Words to Live By

Stronger? Luckier is more like it.

Note the scar juuuust to the left of the big fat vein on the back of my right hand.  That could have been a real bleeder.  There was plumbing, a very long machine screw and a pair of pliers involved in acquiring this scar.  I don't recall exactly how I managed to lay open the back of my hand, but I missed the vein by that much.
Instead of a trip to the doc in the box for sutures, triage was nothing more than a wad of paper towels.

There's a story behind every scar.
I showed you mine, show me yours. ;)

Dogs, Science and the Infernal Gubmint

Shaming your dog.
Sometimes, they deserve it, and don't tell me dogs have no self awareness or sense of right or wrong.
No impulse control?
Sure.
I've arrived home to be greeted by the dog whereupon he immediately put his tail between his legs and put his sad puppy face on then skulked upstairs. Seconds later I'd find the trash can tipped over and the contents spread across the kitchen floor.
MMm, I bet that aluminum foil with a hint pork fat on it was just yummy.
If you watched him when you let him out to do his business in the back yard, he'd turn his back to you while he was taking a dump.

But to put silly hats on wild life, 

simply because they are "slow", and you can....in the name of science, is unconscionable.

You say potato, I say O' Top Hat*

* Tracking device glued to a Sloth's head.  Boy, that must have been some really, really boring electronic tracking. No, wait. Scratch that.  You could sit around, drink beer and check the tracking device, I don't know, like every 5 hours or so while getting paid from a huge Federal Gubmint Grant.
"Nope, he hasn't moved.  Who's making the next beer run?"
Sign me up!

.

random epiphany about beer

If you need a coozy to keep your beer "cold", in your heart of hearts, you really don't like beer.*
My beer bottles, naked, never get warm.


*Pro tip: When eating out skip the monkey bread and butter placed on the table. Politely request another beer from your waitstaff.  Make your carbohydrate calories count!

News alert!  

This Just In!

Overheard on the BAR Corporate HQ couch:......Belle in constant comm with friends in Ireland has issued the warning to NEVER kiss the Blarney Stone. Unconfirmed sources have  confirmed a death toll of 16 24  1000  the Irish locals pee on the Blarney Stone!

I think I need a Tattoo

I'm thinking a battle ship firing all its big guns, 8 x 10 inches or so right in the middle of my belly.
If I lose weight it will shrivel to 5 x 7. If I gain more weight it will blow up to tabloid size.*

 I hear that the endorphin rush from getting a tattoo is quit the shit.  All those little points of pain from the needle pricks over an extended period of time causes the endorphin release into the blood stream.
I can see why some get hooked on getting tattoos, the natural high and making you look all edgy and stuff.
Maybe not. Whichever way my body mass happens to go at this point, tattoos are just likely to make me look blurry.

It might be time for another Duval Crawl.**






*after thought - also might end up looking like a sinking ship.
** google Duval Street, Key West.

Plural is plural

Either that, or whoever wrote this had Popeye teaching their ESL class.

Someone wrote this. Presumably, someone else reviewed it and approved it. Someone else received the copy to be printed on the sticker.
None saw anything wrong with it.
This is on a gas pump in front of a major grocery chain down here, not a one off stop 'n rob run by recent Pakistani immigrants.


Oh screw it.  Actually I couldn't care less. Just another symptom of the entropy consuming this country.  I'm so damn tired I can't even find my indignation and my lower grammar processor has totally gone tits up.

Raining Squirrels

 It threatened rain most of the past week and nary a drop. I kept holding off watering the yard all week thinking we'd get a little rain at least.  Yesterday I set the sprinkler and watered for hours. The ground was so dry it just kept soaking it up. It worked for Bluesun, so I thought I'd give it a try.  Today it rained most of the day.  Buckets of rain in the early morning hours.  I wonder what would happen if I watered both the front and back yards?

The three adolescent squirrels from the nest in the oak tree out front thought the sprinkler was great fun.  So did three from the neighbor's tree across the street.  Hey! let's play in the sprinkler!  Three more showed up from somewhere else close by.  Nine squirrels in one tree is apparently critical mass. The little buggers got very territorial all of the sudden. Squirrels in the tree, squirrels on the ground, squirrels in the wheel wells of the cars, squirrels under the cars. They spent most of the day chasing each other every which way, with occasional raids to the tree across the street, making little squirrel grunting noises most of the time. Most amusing.* Not as good as a litter of kittens, but I've no particular obligation to the squirrels, and I like it that way.

The BAR rules of cohabitation for urban wildlife are simple:
You are welcome to the oak tree.
As long as you stay out of my attic, I will not shoot you.

Belle kept commenting yesterday that maybe she'd get a squirrel feeder.
Uhm, no; and further more no.  One squirrel family in the oak tree is plenty.  We don't need a projek tree full of welfare squirrels.

Besides, someone has to clean up the gazillion acorns the oak dropped. The squirrels are earning their keep and full of squirrely self esteem and dignity.  Why would you want to take that away from them?


*Ever seen a squirrel get a water drop in its ear?  Little effer just about kicked his own ass out the tree head first trying to scratch it out.

I Earned every freaking one of mine

I'm not giving them back.

Researchers find a way to reverse gray hair

I wear my gray hairs as a merit badge of accomplishment. After all, I've never been this old before.