george's world
half food blog. half tech blog. half george blog.
nail + tire = bad.
Jan 9th
I have a nail in my rear passenger-side tire.
It leaks.
I’m sad.
I was really hoping to get a few thousand more miles out of these exhorbitantly expensive tires. But noooo. I have to get 2 tires replaced because of my differential.
It was nice knowing you, $500.
cameras.
Dec 30th
I want a new camera. But I’m poor.
I’m thinking about getting a used one of these:
…only because I can’t afford one of these:
They will go great with my forthcoming new SmugMug account!
rock band.
Dec 8th
I know I’m like a year behind the times, but I finally bought Rock Band over the weekend.
And it was all the result of me being suckered into marketing.
While wasting my life away in front of the TV over the weekend, one of the 46 million Rock Band commercials came on, and I beamed in pride that I didn’t have $179 worth of plastic instruments surrounding me. But then, something happened. Rock Band for the Wii just got price dropped to $99. At least, that’s what it said on the commercial. I didn’t believe it. I wouldn’t believe it. So I went to the wise sage of knowledge – the Internet.
The rumors were true. $99 gets me a 6 month old game with an impending sequel (in a week) and a bunch of plastic instruments. A Sylar-style hunger started to rage within. I don’t hunger for powers. I hunger for plastic Stratocasters.
Long story short, I have $99 worth of plastic instruments in my apartment now. Rock Band, anyone?
blogging.
Dec 5th
Today, while working really hard and stuff at work, I ran across this blog by this girl, full of utter inanity. I suppose inanity would be the basis of any kind of original published work on the internet (holy cow MySpace), but she gets like a billion hits talking about ninjas. In her defense, ninjas are a lot cooler than something like grocery shopping.
Is there hope for me after all? Can I overcome a ridiculous amount of laziness to write something more often than once a month? Do I really need to come up with interesting stories to uplift myself to blogosphere fame?
There’s only one way to find out.
So today, during lunch, I had to go return a movie from the Redbox near my office. Redbox may be the greatest thing to ever happen to occasional one-night new-release movie renters like me. It doesn’t hurt that people online help maintain an entire database of codes for free rentals. That’s not the point of the story.
The point of the story is that I almost died today. Okay, well, maybe not that dramatic, but my little car would have suffered some pain, and that’s almost like dying. I’m pulling in the parking lot to get a parking space, and there’s this big ol’ white Mercury headed directly towards me. I have my eyes on a spot further up and to my left, and in a moment of weakness, I actually WAIT for the other car to pass me before I claim my parking lot stake.
So I stop. I wait. And this BIG WHITE DETROIT-BORN BOAT STOPS RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY SPACE. Wow, annoying. Before I could even think about what’s going on, the cruise liner starts moving again, headed back towards my direction. My spidey-sense goes off, realizing that there is very little room on either side of this moving hunk of metal, and this guy is barreling straight towards the grill of my car. I drop it into 1st and step on it, very narrowly squeezing between the white behemoth and a fatefully parked Honda Fit, giving me maybe centimeters of clearance in a fraction of a second. All I could see inside was this amass of wrinkles, with those super-cool blocky sunglass things that fit over your existing glasses.
Man, that guy was ancient. When he was my age, he probably high-fived dinosaurs. Might have dated a stegosaurus. Or maybe a raptor, if he swung that way. Prop 8 probably was not even a thought back then anyways. He probably planted the giant sequoias and dug the Grand Canyon with a spoon.
So I go return my movie, replaying my near-death experience in my head as I do. I walk back out, fearing for my life, keeping an eye on any other killer senior citizens. And there he was. My potential murderer. Hobbling slowly across the parking lot, fully depending on his cane for movement. It takes him 5 steps for every one I take. I could do nothing at that moment but cry for humanity, realizing that killers like him were on the loose even in nice upscale suburbia where I work.
I’m not an ageist. I do, however, have a problem with people operating large white motor vehicles under the influence of decrepitness. If you or someone you know suffers from constant decrepitness, please, get help somewhere. And stay off the road. Even if you’re in a car. I don’t even care if you’re not the one driving. Just stay off the road.
Join me in keeping murderers off the streets, one feeble old person at a time. Preferably with baseball bats.
think about that for a second.
Nov 12th
Why is it that no one takes IT support seriously?
Granted, working in the field, technical support is the equivalency of fry-o-lator operator at McDonald’s in our world.
But even the fry-o-lator operators get paid their wages.
You can call me selfish, you can call me greedy, you can call me a lover of money – but the I stand behind every word of the following rant.
I get selflessly volunteered a lot by people to fix their computers. Many people I know. Some people I don’t.
When I was in college, I used to do IT-related stuff for this rich Jewish guy. I no longer remember his name, but I do remember he owned all kinds of beachfront properties and he was Jewish. Hence, he was affectionately titled “Rich Jewish Guy”. The best part of RJG was that I felt like part of his little Jewish mafia when I worked for him. I’d get this call – sometimes from him, sometimes from one of his “people” – to meet him at his house (read: mansion) or his office. I’d show up, I’d get my instructions, I’d do my job, and then he’d pay me – always in a sealed envelope, despite it being check or cash. I was never disappointed when I opened the envelope. It always averaged to about $40-$50/hour, which is ridiculous for a college student.
I’d also get volunteered for people I know. Those were done out of favor – there were never any sealed envelopes on my way out the door. A requisite comment of gratitude and I was out, anxious to get home to try to salvage the 3 hours of my evening I just donated. Sometimes meals were given for “payment”, but I really didn’t consider them as payment as I was usually sharing that meal with 5 other people; people who didn’t spend hours trying to rescue their computers from the deep unknown.
I was actually pretty okay with this through college, and even some into the training. Today, I’m working in the industry. I’m no longer trying to rescue people’s computers from the evil clutches of malware and spyware and the like, but the people who do that don’t sit too far away. This is my job, my making of a living, my livelihood.
We all have our jobs. We have our skills. We’ve been blessed with something that we’re good at, or learning to be better at. In my eyes, my job is no different than a doctor, a chef, or a janitor. Even if what we do for a job isn’t always our first choice, we’re only still doing what we’re doing because we’re good enough at it not to get fired.
So after all this, here’s the conundrum: Why is it that people don’t expect doctors to come and treat them for free just because they’re good at it? Why is it that it’s awkward if I asked a chef to come cook for me as a favor because they know how? Why would it be offensive if you called your janitor friend over to clean your mess because he has the skill and ability to do it well?
Think about that for a second.
Now think about this:
Why would it be okay for you to call me over to fix your computer?