This past weekend when my mom was here, we went to Ikea for new shelves for our dining room. The ones we had were a mismatched set, and we figured it'd be nice to get something sturdier and stronger, that also matched some. A part of this process, though, was to clear off the shelves of anything we didn't think we'd use anymore--or read anymore, in the case of books. There were three piles: keep, sell, or donate. The 'donate' pile was freaking huge--I was absolutely brutal. Even stuff I'd read a few times and might possibly read again went into the donate pile. If I hadn't read it in more than a year, into the pile it went. Etc.
Anyway, so, in the 'sell' pile is a bunch of DVDs, a load of Brett's game stuff, some of my books (mostly hardbacks, or authors whom I know will sell well), and some McGwire memorabilia from the Home Run Derby season. So, I've started listing on eBay again. Just the DVDs for now, but I'm planning to get the RPG stuff up when I get home. That usually sells like hotcakes.
Whee.
No...there really *was* no point to this entry, just chatter. :)
Okay. Here I was going to write something brief about the fun weekend that I had with my mom, in between verbal and emailed assrapings at work, but no. No, I saw some of my blog comments, which pissed me off.
You know, it's bad enough that I get spam email at work and at home, and the stupid fax machine that calls my work phone number, presumably to spew yet more junk at me.
But what the fuck is up with getting spam in my blog comments now? I mean, jesus. Don't people have better things to do with their time?
I have one thing to say to these fucktards. *upraised middle finger* You're number one!
So, today, at my work email address, I get the following:
-----Original Message-----
From: FDIC [email removed, but was @att.net]
Sent: Saturday, January 24, 2004 3:00 AM
To: [Me @ Work]
Subject: Important News About Your Bank Account
To whom it may concern;
In cooperation with the Department Of Homeland Security, Federal, State and Local Governments your account has been denied insurance from the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation due to suspected violations of the Patriot Act. While we have only a limited amount of evidence gathered on your account at this time it is enough to suspect that currency violations may have occurred in your account and due to this activity we have withdrawn Federal Deposit Insurance on your account until we verify that your account has not been used in a violation of the Patriot Act.
As a result Department Of Homeland Security Director Tom Ridge has advised the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation to suspend all deposit insurance on your account until such time as we can verify your identity and your account information.
Please verify through our IDVerify below. This information will be checked against a federal government database for identity verification. This only takes up to a minute and when we have verified your identity you will be notified of said verification and all suspensions of insurance on your account will be lifted.
[URL Removed, points to fdic.gov @ [IP address], HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.]
Failure to use IDVerify below will cause all insurance for your account to be terminated and all records of your account history will be sent to the Federal Bureau of Investigation in Washington D.C. for analysis and verification. Failure to provide proper identity may also result in a visit from Local, State or Federal Government or Homeland Security Officials.
Thank you for your time and consideration in this matter.
Donald E. Powell
Chairman Emeritus FDIC
John D. Hawke, Jr.
Comptroller of the Currency
Michael E. Bartell
Chief Information Officer
----
Okay.
First off, there is no fucking way that my credit union has my WORK email address. Hell, they probably don't even have my HOME email address.
Secondly, there's no fucking way that my credit union would give that information to the FDIC, that's a violation of their privacy policy.
Thirdly, if this were truly an issue the FDIC would be announcing this ON THE NEWS, rather than contacting people via email.
Fourth, even if THEY didn't do it, I'm sure that my BANK would either a) contact me via phone, or b) put a notice on their website.
The sad part is, PEOPLE BELIEVE THIS SHIT!
Fucking hell, folks. The FDIC has its own .gov website, it DOES NOT have to use an @att.net address.
When the URL refers you to [www.blah.com] @ [IP], HELLO, CLUE #2. I'll take redirects for a thousand, Alex. Try going to just the regular website first. If there's not something big and glaring and flashing on that site, pointing you to a spot where you should go, DON'T DO IT!
And even if you don't believe ME, how about you CALL YOUR BANK first? Don't you think that *THEY* would know if your account had been suspended for some reason or another?
Jeebers cripes. How stupid do these donkey-raping shit-eating spammer bastards think we-the-American-public are?
Okay, don't answer that. No, don't. Really.
Ahem.
Back to your regularly scheduled Friday, where I am still feeling like Jared in that Subway commercial: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
Arg, the fucking California DMV is going to be the death of me! Words cannot express how much I loathe them right now.
A week or so ago, I got pissed off waiting for my new license to arrive, that I went in to get in freaking October. So, three months later when it wasn't here, I figured I should call. The phone monkey told me that there was a problem with my picture, and that I had to go back into the office. The field office was supposed to call me, but they didn't, and gee, sorry, but that's not her problem, thanks, next in line.
Fuckers.
So, I made an appointment online with the Santa Clara office.
Except that, today, when I went to verify date and time of the appointment, it couldn't find a record that I'd made one.
Yeah, I'm a wee bit pissed.
Even better? I tried to make another appointment online, and it gets all the way through to the confirmation page, but then tells me that the online system isn't available.
Fucking bastards.
Dear Nasty Ugly Bitchy Asian Lady Peering Over The Wheel Of A Big-Ass SUV:
Hi. See that DARK BLUE CAR over on your left? Yeah, the one you've nearly drifted into three times, threatened to cut off more than once, AND given dirty looks to because YOU are the one who can't fucking drive? Yeah, that's me. If you don't knock that shit off, I will do you some serious harm.
Love,
Pissed-Off Commuter
---
Dear Amazon.Com:
Just because I happen to like Melissa Etheridge and Indigo Girls, and just because I happened to click on a link showing the Arwen and Aragorn as Barbie and Ken dolls because a friend showed it to me does NOT mean that I am a lesbian with a doll fetish. Fuck off.
Cordially,
Annoyed Consumer
---
Dear Dead Things Red Wings Fan:
You are not in Detroit. Throwing an octopus onto the ice after your team scores a goal will only get your ass kicked by various Sharks fans as the ushers escort you out. How about you shove that nasty thing up your ass, instead?
Amusedly,
That Girl Up In 224
---
Dear Asshat Sitting Behind Me:
Yeah, I know, it's a hockey game. Yeah, I know you're there to have fun. Yeah, I also know that a lot of people come to games to drink, eat, and talk up a storm. However. Dropping your empty beer bottle in front of you can cause it to roll down a level, and frankly, I don't want my shoes smelling like skanky beer. Also, I get that the 'Wings are sucking. Shut the hell up. One more thing: If you drop another fucking chip on me, I am going to pick up this empty bottle of yours, bend you over, and shove it up your ass with no lube. Especially if there's cheese on it.
Annoyedly,
Still That Girl In 224
---
Dear Chronically Stupid Cow-Orker:
Go home. Go home, and don't come back until you can beg, borrow, steal, or barter your soul away to Satan for a brain. Your office-mates will thank you.
Hugs'N'Kisses
No, My Name Is NOT 'Lid'
---
Dear Gross And Disgusting Bitches:
For the fifteen millionth time, FLUSH THE FUCKING TOILET!
Nauseously,
The Gagging Woman
---
Brought to you by cranky/bitchy girl.
Friday night, we had dinner with Jeremy's dad, in from Wisconsin. Most memorable part of the night: Jim telling Brett, "Don't get your shit hot!"
Also. My boss is awesome. I got this, via email, last week:
NEW WORDS FOR 2004: Essential additions for the workplace vocabulary:
BLAMESTORMING: Sitting around in a group, discussing why a deadline was missed or a project failed, and who was responsible.
SEAGULL MANAGER: A manager who flies in, makes a lot of noise, craps on everything, and then leaves.
ASSMOSIS: The process by which some people seem to absorb success and advancement by kissing up to the boss rather than working hard.
SALMON DAY: The experience of spending an entire day swimming upstream only to get screwed and die in the end.
CUBE FARM: An office filled with cubicles.
PRAIRIE DOGGING: When someone yells or drops something loudly in a cube farm, and people's heads pop up over the w alls to see what's going on.
MOUSE POTATO: The on-line, wired generation's answer to the couch potato.
SITCOMs: Single Income, Two Children, Oppressive Mortgage. What yuppies turn into when they have children and one of them stops working to stay home with the kids.
STRESS PUPPY: A person who seems to thrive on being stressed out and whiney.
SWIPEOUT: An ATM or credit card that has been rendered useless because the magnetic strip is worn away from extensive use.
XEROX SUBSIDY: Euphemism for swiping free photocopies from one's workplace copy machine.
IRRITAINMENT: Entertainment and media spectacles that are annoying but you find yourself unable to stop watching them. The J-Lo and Ben wedding (or not) was a prime example.
PERCUSSIVE MAINTENANCE: The fine art of whacking the crap out of an electronic device to get it to work again.
ADMINISPHERE: The rarefied organizational layers beginning just above the rank and file. Decisions that fall from the adminisphere are often profoundly inappropriate or irrelevant to the problems they were designed to solve.
404: Someone who's clueless. From the World Wide Web error message "404 Not Found," meaning that the requested document could not be located.
GENERICA: Features of the American landscape that are exactly the same no matter where one is, such as fast food joints, strip malls, and subdivisions.
OHNOSECOND: That minuscule fraction of time in which you realize that you've just made a BIG mistake.
WOOF'S: Well-Off Older Folks.
CROP DUSTING: Surreptitiously farting while passing through a Cube Farm.
Fanfic hell, that is. I started writing fanfic a long time before I realized that there was a name for it, but I never actually did anything with it. Most of what I wrote, especially in high school, was for my own enjoyment, since it was basically crap. :)
So, I forgot about it for a long time, before I was finally inspired to write something based on Stephen King's The Stand, that actually wasn't too bad. I had three chapters for it at one point, but lost most of it due to a hard drive, so, once more, I forgot about it and didn't start it up again--which I really should rectify, because it really wasn't terrible.
And then...there was Cassie Claire, whom most people know for her LotR Very Secret Diaries--which, if you haven't read them, really are worth it. Anyway. So, as it turns out, she also writes Harry Potter stuff, and there was my introduction to the term 'fanfic.' I read most of her stuff, and found Schnoogle, a novel-length Harry Potter fanfic archive, so I got absorbed in it pretty quickly. Some of it was absolute crap, some was okay, but there were a few gems (including Cassie Claire's) that were truly wonderful. The problem was, since that series is still in progress, it was too easy to mix the alternate universe themes of the fanfic with the 'real' universe that JK Rowling is writing.
So, I stopped reading HP fanfic shortly before Order of the Phoenix came out, except for the one story that I really wanted to finish, and once more, I stopped reading stuff for awhile.
And THEN, I found Henneth Annun, which is all Lord of the Rings, all the time. One of the stories that I read from there was pretty good--they've got an assortment of things up there, poetry, humor, novel-length stories, vignettes, etc. Interestingly, most of the stuff at this place is really good--not all of it interests me, but almost all of it is very well written and intelligent.
So, why am I in fanfic hell, you ask?
Well.
The author of the story that I mentioned above has another page, on FanFiction.Net, and the stuff she's got there is likewise enjoyable. However. FF.Net is an archive for everything under the sun--anime, books, TV shows, movies, etc. I haven't read much of the LotR stuff from there, but I glanced through some of the Stephen King stuff and...gah. Oh. My. God.
Okay. I realize that I'm kind of a grammar freak, but seriously, guys. If you're going to write stuff for a large audience, if you're going to post on a site like that, please please please please learn some rules of grammar. Capitalize names, use punctuation. Dialogue between separate characters should take their own paragraphs. USE A SPELL-CHECKER. l33t sp33k has no place in fanfic. Try spelling out words like 'you' and 'are' rather than using U and R. Ditto for '4/four/for.' And hey, learn the difference between there/they're/their, and two/too/to. A lot is two separate words. And please, for the love of god, get a beta reader who isn't afraid to TELL YOU these things. Someone who's going to tell you that some of your stuff is crap and that it needs work.
Maybe then, I wouldn't be in fanfic hell.
What's that? Stop reading? I can't. It's like a 10 car pile-up that way.
(Sports advisory! If you're not interested in hockey, you might not be interested in this, but you still may get a giggle out of it.)
We hear some really stupid shit at hockey games. Satyr69 over at Livejournal can attest to this--we took him to the Dallas game on Tuesday for his birthday, and the guy sitting in front of him was probably one of the most annoying seat mates we've had in awhile. He kept babbling about his daughter's wedding, not really watching the game, but would occasionally holler out, "Stuey, you suck!" Now, admittedly, Stuey had a bad game (okay, practically the whole TEAM had a bad game), but dude. Seriously. Either go somewhere and talk about your daughter's wedding, or shut the fuck up and actually *watch*.
That's actually a pretty common problem--some people come to games and view it as a social hour rather than a sporting event. When we were sharing a season ticket package with John and Steve, sitting in section 226, the seats just behind us were Shark Pack seats, so people had them for 10 games during the season. The kids were annoying, but at least they *watched* the game. The worst were the two women, though, who came to the game and chattered the whole time. Didn't cheer when they made a good play or scored a goal, just chattered, and considered it an affront that people might cheer a good play and interrupt them. GAH.
I mentioned the guy a few weeks ago who sat behind us and just wouldn't shut up. He'd brought his friend to the game--his friend, who was basically a hockey newbie, who (I'm guessing) he was going to 'show the ropes.' Sadly, what he really knew about hockey could probably fill the cap of the soda bottle I'm drinking from right now. I mean, okay. Sharks bring the puck in down the left side. Guy behind us: "Hey! Weak side, weak side, weakside!!!!" Sharks bring the puck in down the right side. Guy behind us: "Hey! Weak side, weak side!"
There are the pregnant men, too--that's what I call them, anyway. They're almost always men, and they're always the ones who burst a blood vessel shouting "GET IT OUUUUUUUUUUUUUT!" during a power play, as if they're in labor and are desperate to be rid of a 10 pound monster in their stomach. And the artillery, as Brett calls them, the ones who are always shouting "SHOOT!" when someone holds onto the puck for too long. Those are just annoying, though, not really stupid.
The ultimate in 'oh my fucking god, this guy is a flaming idiot' happened last night, though. Last night, the Sharks played the Vancouver Canucks (and kicked ass, by the way, they played VERY well)--from Canada. Yeah, there's a point to specifying that. Some guy one section over and a few rows back starts hollering once the game starts. Mostly, I can't figure out what the fuck he's talking about, which is not terribly unusual. Finally, though, finally, I hear him say something:
"Hey! Beat a Canadian!"
And:
"Lay the smackdown! Canadians gave us mad cow!"
Et cetera, et cetera.
It was oh so tempting to yell back, "Hey, fucktard! You do realize, don't you, that at least 80 percent of the players on the Sharks roster are from CANADA?"
Motards.
- Wow, last night's game sucked--talk about bad acid flashbacks to last season or early this season or something.
- 49ers quarterback Jeff Garcia was at the Sharks game last night...and on the news this morning, I heard that he'd been arrested on suspicion of DUI in San Jose. Hmmm...had a few too many at the game, I'm thinking. :)
- Ow, I am sore.
- What is it with my nice, high-quality black socks that they all get holes in the toe? Grr.
- Suck-o-riffic, Lucent security is now blocking GoToMyPC.com, saying that it's a proxy avoidance tool. Yeah, I'm trying to figure that one out. So, don't expect to see me online today (or for awhile). Which *really* sucks, considering that I'm desperately needing to do some homework. Have Yahoo!Messenger? Leave a comment or send me email at work (epalmer@lucent), or send a message to squeelookle--hopefully, it'll work. Sometimes, Yahoo won't let me receive messages til I send one first.
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
-- Carl Sandburg
It was foggy when I woke up this morning. Not the dense, swirling fog that you sometimes see coming over the mountains headed south toward the Golden Gate, but heavy, still, and quiet, muting the traffic noise from the expressway outside. It was unexpected, in a way--I've never seen fog quite like that around here, the sort of fog I was used to in Salt Lake that would hit during winter, lying heavy over the base of the mountains, casting even the end of our street, half a block away, into a thick, misty shadow. The drive to the dentist's office was strange, too--the fog was so thick in some places that it was hard to see the taillights of the car ahead of you, and the lights from the oncoming traffic were barely there, but a few car lengths head, it would vanish entirely, with just the cloud cover visible.
Strange. Fun, in a way, but strange. It made me miss Utah winters, but only for a moment. I'm not quite *that* insane. :)
You know, I'm not sure that subject line really has anything to do with this post. Ah well.
Happy New Year, everyone! Stay tuned for pictures of the monstrous lobsters that lost their lives to our party on New Year's Eve.
Most memorable quote of the evening:
"Ding, robstah's done!"
I just wish I could remember the rest of the song that he made up. What I *do* know is that it's been said more times over the past few days than I really want to think about.
Yeah, add another phrase to the lexicon. :)
Other random notes:
Drove up to SFO last night to pick up Jason, and got there a bit before the plane landed. Was amused at the woman who very nearly created An Incident with security because, shrieking, she sprinted past the 'Do Not Enter' signs to give someone a hug.
Another airport observation: over the loudspeaker, they occasionally have announcements that we 'are currently at homeland security threat level orange.' During these announcements, they admonish everyone to keep a lookout for unattended bags, and to notify security if one should happen to come across one of said unattended bags. This made me snicker every time I heard it--I was standing in the baggage claim and, uh, all the odd sized packages? Unattended. The ton of bags that weren't picked up from the carousel? Likewise unattended. Bah. :)
Okay, back to work. I brought lobster in today for my co-workers to enjoy--hopefully, they'll eat all the rest of it to spare me from having to bring any home. We shall see.
Have a wonderful new year, everyone. I can't wait to see what 2004 has in store.