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Thread: The Random Pointless Observations about Things You Did Today Thread

  1. #151
    Oliphaunt Jizzelbin's avatar
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    Oh, and my big genius revelation of the day:

    one reason I dislike showering is that I don't trust the non-slip pad I have over the enamel.

    I mean, it's just a false sense of security, and I don't trust it.

    I trust my bare feet more, but enough soap and...it's like I spend most of my effort ensuring my foothold.

    Trust me, I've used plenty of different showers, I know how to maintain balance.

    I walk barefoot outdoors on gravel and hot asphalt all the time.

    But still, it's a detail that perturbs me and uses up part of my brain that I should be using to get in and out of the shower PDQ.

    BUT, GENIUS IDEA!!!!

    So, I go to wherever they sell this kind of thing, buy some flip-flop sandals with a nice spongy, rubberized sole, then come shower time (which, honestly, could be every day for the amount of each day I spend soaked in sweat), pop those suckers on, and ba-bing, my showering task is about 500% easier.

    Yeah, I know.

    Hold your applause until I acquire such footwear.

    But there will be applause.

    Because that fucking cures all the problems.

    QED.

  2. #152
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    Fucking A damned right.

    See?

    This is what happens when two people of like minds get together after work for a beer.

    It's called a date.

    And it ends with a nice hug and all that in a public place, and without doubt that there's no doubt it's going to happen again.

    Even if it's at 1415 after work, when you and she spend three hours talking and never getting bored, and nobody used the rape horn.

    That's a motherfucking date, motherfucker.

    And, yes, I am the man.

  3. #153
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    Oh, and apparently what, according to her, just in casual conversation, into thinking I was OK is "he works hard and seems to know what he's doing."

    That surprised me — apparently she just isn't into slackers on the job.

    Well, it takes all sorts, I guess.

    She had no idea about anything about my intellectual pursuits or education: AFAIK, she just knew I was a career warehouse worker before today, but just one who worked hard and, presumably, she conveniently overlooked my habit of ogling women's behinds while performing my tasks.

    She's a keeper.

    And she's street-smart: obviously, I have her digits and stuff, but she's not going to go get liquored up and follow me to my car.

    Of course I invited her, so according to my rules, the open tab was for her too, with the tacit understanding that when she invites me out, she can pay.

    But, still, that's thinking smart — she doesn't want to be "owing" some guy something.

    And she's thirty-four — so, that's not too young, she's just about right in age to not be some weird thing.

    And, yes, you can guess, I'm very happy.

    Not dick-wet happy, but I'm glad to have met a very interesting peron with whom I can talk for hours, and vice versa.

    I think it's going to be a very good next few months.

  4. #154
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    Well, I made amends for my drunken texting (really I was just complaining about being a gimp in the leg these days, using colorful language). I just said "OK, here's my new rule: I'm not going to drunk-text you again."

    She actually replied, concerned that maybe I thought she was "ghosting" me. She's doing sixteen-hour days at an intensive workshop in physical therapy-learning, so naturally I just responded and said she should take care of herself and that everything is chill.

    So, that's kind of nice: no bridges burned.

    And, anyway, in a way, I was kind of doing her a favor by showing what she would have found out anyway. Namely, that I'm not always the cleanest monkey in the cage. Best to get that out of the way sooner than later, so she has the true facts.

  5. #155
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    WTF????!!!!!

    Driving home yesterday, not only did I see some moron chick weaving in and around the right-hand side of the road wearing old-school roller skates. In the street. Granted, this was in a residential/commercial neighborhood with low posted speeds, but still pretty busy traffic.

    So, after nearly having a heart attack cautiously avoiding her and nearly front-ending another car in motion, what next?

    Up an extremely busy highway — still, lots of pedestrians and cyclists and whatever, who usually are no problem, just be cautious on that stretch.

    Not one, but two people riding those stupid electric scooters.

    Which is fine, better than mowing down peds on the sidewalk, I guess.

    Absolutely weaving back and forth in the right-side of the street, like they were doing that thing from Easy Rider playing around on motorcycles.

    OH and here's nice. Again, smaller neighborhood-type roads. Bicyclist. Which is fine with me.

    I think he about shit his pants and nearly rear-ended ME, when I decided to actually stop at a stop sign.

    Bunch of fucking dumbass cretins.

    Maybe not be smoking the pot so much, or whatever.

    Free spirits, my ass.

  6. #156
    Oliphaunt Jizzelbin's avatar
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    No kidding.

    I got this tip for my posterior tibial tendonitis from a coworker who used to play baseball in college — maybe she still does athletic things, for all I know, but she knows a lot and I can tell it's not bullshit.

    Athletic tape/kinesio tape — lots of different names and brand names, but they all seem about the same to me.

    There are some rather specific wrapping techniques that address problems in various tendons of the foot/ankle, which can be a bit complicated, but I for one am very glad to have this tool at my disposal.

    I'm trying a double-wrapped arch support this evening, but tomorrow I look forward to trying a different technique, since I don't believe my arch needs much support (although it seems to help).

    Pauca intelligenti: I do believe that using alcohol swabs to clean the skin helps the tape adhere, at least for this brand I'm using (3M Nexcare — only one at the grocery store's pharmacy). The package suggests shaving the area, but fortunately my ankles and feet are not especially hairy. I haven't tested this, but the tape I'm using is not overwhelmingly adhesive, probably because people don't want the epidermis being removed along with the tape during "changing times."

    ETAIt is counterintuitive, since the arch of the foot is not painful to me, but the bolstered support of the arch does indeed seem to relieve stress on the offending tendon.

    You know, there may be something to this medicine science mumbo jumbo.
    Last edited by Jizzelbin; 19 Jun 2019 at 09:24 PM.

  7. #157
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    Hmmm. Well, I think I covered the more interesting stuff today in other threads.

    Or else I can't remember and it doesn't matter.

    But this was about my third or fourth foray into doing an actual crossing the white dotted line to discourage some gearhead leadfoot motorhead from passing on the right, in a transparent needle-dick move on the part of the corn-hole fanatic.

    And, yes, I learned that from car-chase movies of the 1970s.

    In all cases, it was not a close distance manoeuvre, just me deliberately blocking the right hand lane whch was about to merge into the LH lane in about a hundred meters or so.

    I think I'm just plain a dick, who thinks it's my duty to shut them crackers down, while in no way impeding traffic by failing to adhere to the flow of traffic.

    Or else a narcissist who insists that the rules of the road are flexible, but not subject to ad-hoc changes, and that my method is correct.

    Also, I think my steering wheel hand position is objectively correct: hands at five and seven, at the bottom of the wheel.

    And people who don't drive with their headlights on at all times are fools.

  8. #158
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    Well, I finally got to use my dork quote, "MMMMMmmmm. That IS a tasty burger!" in person while actually being served a burger, not a fur burger, today.

    It really was a good burger, and the cook who brought it up to the bar got the reference. Yeah, he's like laughing and saying "Thanks, Sammy!"

    As all good people should.

    Burger+Ham+Fried Egg+tomatoes, onions, good mustard, cheese, and I think the cook snuck some bacon on there just because.

    Full side of french fried pertateroes </slingblade>.

    Yep.

    Unfonrtunately my bartender pal girl didn't notice when she said, thity seconds after it arrived and I ate it. after cutting in half, "You must have liked that!"

    "Mmmm....I sure do like the taste of a good burger! Me, I usually can't get 'em .... " etc.

    Oh well, the cook got my appreciation, and damned right I throw cash left and right for tips when it's good. And I'm not a rich man.

    Fucking A, yeah, it's worth it;.

    ETA, and yes, always cut the burger in half before diving in. There will be finger things to pick up at various points during the savaging, but IMHO it is just good form to make an attempt.
    Last edited by Jizzelbin; 21 Jun 2019 at 12:43 AM.

  9. #159
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    Not much. Interesting experience on the way to work. My usual route has maybe a mile and a half of a neighborhood road full of potholes, and through-traffic is generally controlled by what I think are called "round-abouts." Anyway, the side-streets have stop signs, and we circle around through these round thingies every few blocks or so.

    So, naturally, I yield to a few pedestrians who are crossing at an interestion.

    But this fucking bicycle cunt, noticing I'm stopped, but apparently had no idea why, decided to just blow her stop sign and proceed.

    I took great pleasure in proceeding as though she didn't exist and heard her slam on her bicycle brakes and the trailer she was towing hit the rear end of her bicycle.

    Stupid bitch.

    You're traffic you piece of crap, and I don't discriminate. If you can't control your vehicle, stick to walking, unless that's also too difficult.

    /////////////////

    BUT, great news, my Zenni Optical replacement glasses arrived in the mail today.

    I just used the same frames I have for my prescription sunglasses since I didn't want to shop through their catalog and they already had my prescription.

    I think they're adequate, and I'm tired of metal frames: the little nose pads always get fucked up, and I don't think the color/style is obnoxiously hipster. Plus, they're lightweight, and very simple in design. One piece for the front, and then two branches plus the springs or whatever.

    And they seem to have an OK prescription: at least I can see out of them better than without.

    https://ibb.co/dWfyqbW

    ////////

    OH, I should edit and say I figured out where some interesting abrasions on the driver's side body of the car came from. Well, I was still in control of the vehicle. I just didn't think those little plastic divider thingies would leave a mark.

    Or else it was neighborhood kids, probably.

    Fine, I'm a shitty driver prone to taking impulsive, yet calculated risks.

    But I've never had a moving violation in my life!

    Just...minor damage has sometimes occurred.

    Perhaps, mistakes have been made.

    But never proved! Or charged!
    Last edited by Jizzelbin; 27 Jun 2019 at 07:00 PM.

  10. #160
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    My blood pressure, measured by a real doctor, after having had six beers, a giant sandwich made of cured, salty meats and vegetables, and about ten cigarettes, is 110/70.

    Suck on that, old people!

    My weight? Not so good. Its all muscle, I tell you. And some water weight. Nothing to see there. I still wear a size 36 pants, so it's not that bad.

    Apparently the doctor thinks 800 mg of ibuprofen 3x qd is OK, so at least my insurance picked up the tab for that and I can take one horse-pill sized ibuprofen instead of gobbling handfuls of Advil throughout the day.

    He wrote me a referral to X-Ray for the ankle/foot, but I don't think I'm going to bother with that.

    So, like I suspected, he didn't really tell me anything I didn't know, except tthat higher doses of ibuprofen can be tolerated by many people for durations of several weeks or longer.

    But, good to have a real opinion rather than my own fake, made up opinions (which are right, but not necessarily for the right reasons).

  11. #161
    Oliphaunt Jizzelbin's avatar
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    Oh.

    So, between work and going to the doctor's office I decided to do what some people probably consider "bad" or something.

    It was some old KJV of the bible, I don't remember why I had it at my place Great-Grandma Anne couldn't get no nothing else to read, I guess.

    So, since I usually carry the Psalter (Vulgate book of Psalms) in my pants/shorts pocket, so as to have something to read if I have to pass the time, given that I usually only understand the "gist" of the Latin, I did the unthinkable and tore Psalms I->XXIV out of this KJV bible.

    Holy shit.

    That is the worst fucking thing I have ever read in my life.

    Yeah I know, blah blah, James VI, cunning linguist, assembled the best.

    That translation doesn't have any fucking thing to do with the Vulgate.

    Fuck you, KJV.

  12. #162
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    I don't know what's wrong with me: I'm pretty sure in Nat___ie's mind I've gone from "that guy who I went out with once who was really fun to talk with and knew a bunch of stuff and seemed to like me" to "that fucking idiot who seems to get drunk every other day and keeps texting me."

    Well, that's OK.

    But here's the part of more concern: when I think about her, I pretty much only think about the act of cunnilingis. Spelling uncertain. There's no mistaking what I'm talking about, however.

    It sends me into a kind of trance, which is influenced by the libido, of course, but is not necessarily accompanied by other symptoms of aroused senses.

    Well, I'm pretty sure I figured out where that word "poonhound" comes from.

    Like a bloodhound or some other kind of hunting dog.

    Except for poon.

  13. #163
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    Well, before retiring this evening I did have a chance to visit the grocery store for supplies.

    One of those great ejaculations one pronounces out loud, as one does, until being interrupted mid-stride by noticing some very polite people rounding the corner.

    Yeah, it was a good one:

    "Goddamned, it's like a refrigerator made by retards....." and, after noticing the two younger women (probably mother and daughter), "Er...excuse me."

  14. #164
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    I'm officially turning this thread, proviso ad istem temporem, into "Random Petty Complaints About Something Today."

    WTF, dude?

    So, I have an older car. A vintage car, if you will. It happens to have a 6-CD changer, and I happen to have a pretty large collection of audio CDs, so it works out fine.

    WTF, dude?

    The only CD I can get to play is The Three Sounds with Stanley Turrentine, called Blue Hour.

    It is a classic record, even though Gene Harris does a lot more block chords than straight-up blues single-note on the piano keyboard.

    It takes fucking forever to systematically test each slot in the changer for fresh discs.

    So now I got to go grab a dozen or so new discs (off the shelf at home — in sleeves, including artwork, but no "jewel" boxes), on the assumption that the ones I've left in the car (yes, I can see some visible scarring on the Lonnie Smith Turning Point CD, but none of the others).

    I suppose I could just sit in my carport with a six-pack and run through discs and see what happens.

    Yes, I know about the so-called "cleaning" disc.

    Likely what happened is that a combination of use, heat, and environmental corruption has made the device unpredictable.

    STILL, I suppose there's worse albums to be stuck with. I'm sure never going to forget "Gee Baby, Ain't I Good To You" ever again, nor have a lapse of memory playing "I Want A Little Girl." But I already knew those tunes.

  15. #165
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    All right, I'm fasting from food today, tomorrow, and Saturday, excepting a small glass of milk to wash down my 800mg ibuprofen.

    And some beer.

    I'm grabbing...what can I stand to listen to.

    All of Joe Henderson's Blue Note albums.

    "Somethin' Else" of Cannonball.

    Alfred Brendel's recordings of Mozart, piano+orchestra.

    All of Sonny Clark (already tried Dial 'S' for Sonny, but the rest).

    All of of Elmo Hope (already tried one of his sextet/quintet records).

    Bud Powell! All that shit, bring it!

    And, all the Aretha Atlantic records.

    Mmmmm.

    I suspect I'm going to run out of beer before I get done cycling the disc changer through all these.

    THEN, I shall try discs burned with mp3 files.

    Life is rather tedious.

    Gawd I like just sitting in my chair, rather than fucking with automotive crap.

    Yeah, yeah, somebody put a bullet in Moe Greene's eye, and I didn't complain, and there isn't even a plaque in that city.

  16. #166
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    Well, that wasn't so bad. I worked the door at work, which is boring as shit, but didn't aggravate my posterior tibial tendon. The twat they have filling in while our regular twat is still on vacation is pretty nice, but she's fucking an idiot.

    Not that there's anything wrong with that.

    After grabbing a few beers after work I decided to return this stupid bike shit pump to WalMart. No receipt, and I forgot to replace the little plastic widget thing on the end. Doesn't matter, it was still garbage, but they accepted the return anyway.

    Sunday, so the freeways were pretty open. The store itself was a goddamned catastrophe of hell.

    But I had a five USD gift card courtesy of Microsoft and bought six pairs of socks and some flip-flops, in addition to having credit restored for that shitty pump.

    I guess that about pays for the gasoline spent.

    And I got lost coming back so went through some of the old southwest part of Portland Heights and it wasn't so bad.

    It happened I ended up by a Target I'd been meaning to stop in to buy another pair of these shorts I like I bought there a few months ago.

    No. Apparently I bought the last pair of OK shorts they ever sold there. I didn't see anything but ridiculous, overpriced garbage that should have been in a garage sale.

    Oh, and suburban twats don't know how to fucking drive.

  17. #167
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    Bought travel insurance today. For the first time, had to answer medical questions because I'm now 60.

    It's all down hill from here.

  18. #168
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    Well, I didn't spend my day staring down the Grim Reaper and his actuaries, so there's that.

    I did get to see that the best "fit" AMZ can come up with for a temporary shift supervisor is one of the worst, most incompetent, clueless people I've ever interacted with. One of a select handful in other areas, but still up there.

    I'm taking as much time possible off from work until this seaward woman is drowned or returned to her hell-realm. And especially given that this is a special season for AMZ, the coming week.

    Winston Wolf: "I'm here to solve problems. If my help is not appreciated, then, well, lots of luck, fellas."

    Really. My team knows what we're doing, and we need some idiot fucking with our close cooperative, efficient teamwork like we need a bag on the hip.

    If our core team had followed suit and just taken a few days off (which is permitted — just fill out the paperwork online) the next few days, maybe the message might get through to CornJob Central in the Excel Warriors' suite.

    Nah, they're all a bunch of pussies. But they're my pussies. I think they're nuts to put up with this shit, but whatever.
    Last edited by Jizzelbin; 09 Jul 2019 at 07:02 PM.

  19. #169
    Oliphaunt Jizzelbin's avatar
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    Oh yes: in case one forgets, please don't ever EVER "test" one's marine air horn after it's been filled to 100+ psi.

    Especially not in a semi-enclosed space. Not even in a car with a window rolled down.

    I'm pretty sure that's about the same amount of earhole damage as discharging a big firearm without ear protection.

    Oh well, it's only rock and roll and we like it.

  20. #170
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    Geezub, thhinking back a few hours.

    Yes. literally a few hours. Like eight or so hours. Or whatever, but it was still today.

    Yeah, so sure, I roll in and am liike "fill it up, regular, card." (Yes, I received a settlement check for an LCD screen thing, so I splurged).

    I think the actual fucking manager at the time (it's one of two local cab services in town) came out as I was filling up my marine air horn using the hose near one of the pumps.
    '
    I told him, "Yep, it's a marine air horn. Trust me, I'm not going to sound off, just filling it up, boss."

    The guy really did remind me of Roddy McDowall (sp?) in DMCL.

    My metric of getting old is that there is not one place I frequent on a daily basis where I'm not known.

    Not in a bad way.

    I'm pretty sure most customer servants are just like, "Hey! It's that guy! He's OK!"

    Better living through customer service, I guess.

  21. #171
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    Oh, also, note to self and probably other people: trust me.

    Just don't use the marine air horn, even when it seems appropriate.

    Example: some woman complaining to her mate which one happens to overhear because it is so fucking loud.\\

    Trust me.

    The marine air horn is not only louder, but it's really not good to use except if you're at sea or something. I.e., it's really fucking loud.

    Just don't use it.

    Without ear protection.

    Just like the guns.

    Use it. Or them.

    But use ear protection.

    And also only in extreme prejudice.

  22. #172
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    Well look at that. I was all pissed off at the interim shift manager last week (along with everyone else — nice bonus, she suddenly wasn't here today), and slightly drunk, so I put in a request for a medical leave of absence for my posterior tib tendonitis (it is not a joke, I saw the doctor at my own expense and everything, and have been ruining my stomach by taking 2400-3200 mg of ibuprofren daily for a few weeks).

    It happens to be "Prime Week" at Amazon during which personal time off is "blacked out" as in unavailable, so I admittedly put in the request just to fuck with that demented imbecile of a substitute manager, in addition to my legitimate medical needs.

    Hey, you don't ask, you don't get.

    Naturally, some body from a distant HR center e-mailed me and told me what forms to fill out.

    Apparently somebody fucked up and I am noted as on "leave of absence," so when I punch in, it's as "account inactive."

    So now some manager just has to manually fix all of that.

    And that, people, is why you always insist on getting things in writing, as I always do.

    No voicemail messages, no "Sissy Spacek told me I could have the dogs for free."

    Writing.

    Currently my pain is only about a two or three out of ten, as opposed to six, seven, or eight over the past weeks, thanks to faithful application of ibuprofren, so I just show up and if they don't pay me, well, foot goes right in someone's ass.

  23. #173
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    I think Jake Blues's diet might not have been real. At least for me, eating one whole fried chicken twice in two days is a bit much. You know, minus the head and the spine and the feet.

    Also, I am not happy about the new "news about John" at the Company: so this coworker, I overheard her saying in the breakroom she teaches French at a local school, and so we ended up chatting for quite a while. She was way over the top about praising how good I spoke and that my accent wasn't the typical American one.

    Anyway, she's a nice lady and I enjoyed speaking with her and talking about how higher ed can be a PITA in some ways, and as a bonus, nobody else could understand if they were listening.

    But then I think as we were all signing out to go home she started gushing to everybody else about blah blah what a cool fluent dude I am and all this shit.

    Now particularly these two younger kids on my shift are like, think I'm some kind of professor god or something. Yes, I told them it's just in the past, like having the measles. "I always thought academics were stiff, but you're cool!"

    Jeez.

    I mean, it's nice of them or whatever and maybe they haven't met a lot of people who did that thing for a while, but it's really not something I'd prefer to be general knowledge. I just prefer to be seen as a regular jackass, which indeed I am. Except when chatting with some francophone African immigrant van drivers and bitching about stuff or saying really vile things under my breath.

    Of all the things to get excited about — I'm pretty sure loads of people speak lots of languages in the warehouse. Anyway, I'm not some master of the language: I know how to order drinks and crudely proposition women in a somewhat-polite way without using a smartphone "app," and other stuff, but I'm not interested in having my whole biography known widely, because I can't remember it that well myself.

  24. #174
    Oliphaunt Jizzelbin's avatar
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    TODAY. I received a settlement check from the class-action suit about LCD screens which was about EXACTLY the amount needed for parts and labor of replacing my RF strut mount, which was extremely severely damaged from potholes. To the extent that the hood is bent from the inside by contact with some intermediary in the engine compartment, i.e., "under the hood."

    So, I made an appt with the people who diagnosed the problem, for free, viz., Les Schwab (I don't know if it's a national chain or whatever, but it's pretty big in these parts).

    Arrived early, dropped the "valet key" off, and a couple of hours later, there she was.

    Now I can call the car a "she" instead of a hulking, groaning creaking sack of indeterminate sex.

    Still has the gorilla tape "covering" the massive rear end damage, and also holding the driver's side sideview mirror on, but she's getting on in years, so that's all cosmetics.

    ////////////////

    In the interim I limped over (yes, the tendonitis gets progressively worse as the week ends, so I probably should have rented one of those Bird scooters or whatever) to my usual place of recreation, had about too many beers, did the WSJ crossword (I think I finished it — whatsisface who edits that one is slipping, IMHO, although it's been years and years since I used to really "do" crosswords), scanned most of the Business&Finance section (I didn't read the A section yet).

    So I got some quarters and was practicing pool, starting with my usual set-up: 14 balls racked, one ball tossed randomly, and toss the cue ball anywhere, just like a continuation in a straight pool game.

    Sucked. Even worse than usual.

    Played two games with some dude — pretty much the traditionally what you'd expect in a working class dive bar, rides a Harley, fim handshake, all that.

    I've never been more convinced that someone deliberately dumped some shot than today. I've seen people let up a little bit, and even done it myself, even though I don't have much to begin with, but just to be friendly, not like "fuck you, I'ma kill this table right now! game over!"

    No, this guy dumped some easy shots, just to keep the game going.

    And I mean missed the shots in a very realistic way. And even sometimes not missing a shot but just doing some impossible feat, like trying to cut a ball into a far corner along the rail past the horns of the center pocket. Like even I know that's not going to happen, like ever. I think it might be physically impossible.

    No, it wasn't any money/beers game, just like killing time, and I'm not being paranoid. I think he just liked totally showing off "hey, it's just a game, but I totally rule, plus I ride a motorcycle and don't need to brag, because it's all cool, all right, man, good luck with your car!"

    Not that I'm not cool personally myself, but this guy just whipped my ass in probably every aspect of life.

  25. #175
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    Eh, I thought I decided a long time ago that it's "viz," not "viz." Yeah, it's pig latin for "vide licet," or whatever, but I'm pretty sure it's better spelled in English as just "viz." It's not short for anything, except what it is.

    Fucking bastard shit motherfucker.

    I fucking hate making mistakes. And yet, here I am. Goddamnit.

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    Stepped on a rusty nail. That sucks, I guess. I think you're supposed to wash it or something. Or file an incident report with HR. Or both.

    Got out of work early.

    Probably not coincidentally, that's been the only time I've ever driven up this road on my commute during daylight hours and not seen the stupidest driving I've ever seen. It's almost like people weren't demented morons with lack of experience driving.

    Woke up and that fucking bitch in the condo office put a "friendly reminder" to "see us about a parking permit" under my windshield wiper.

    Dumbass fucking cunt. I have a fucking pass, I just don't hang it over my mirror because (i) I keep it with my registration and insurance information because the car cannot be driven legally and safely with it in place (ii) dude, you fucking idiot, I gave you my fucking license plate and everyone knows goddamned well what car I drive, because it's parked in the same fucking spot since forever.

    So, thoughtfully I had a black Sharpie in the car and was able to scrawl in caps, "FUCK YOU CUNT" on the permit as I dutifully placed it in the window.

    All in all, a pretty good day, actually.

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    Oh, also, this just in.

    Yes, it's tempting, and the dogs' yappings are very bad, but really, don't use the marine horn without ear protection.

    It's really loud.

    I don't mean like "zomg that fire alarm is so loud!" or "that warning signal at the warehouse hurts my tender earballs."

    It's pretty much a lot different.

    So don't do it.

    /////////

    Oh, this was weird or remarkable: this guy "Fr____" who works two days that overlap with mine, new hire, older guy, you know, probably late-fifties or so. Chill dude, knows a lot about jazz, so we've chatted quite a bit during downtimes about stuff like Les McCann and everybody. I noticed yesterday he had a hat on that said "NYU dad" and was like "yeah, cool! you got a kid in...." blah blah.

    Anyway, he apparently "forgot some shit" in his locker and was just walking around the aisles where he spotted a whole pack of us just whittling time away, and he was all like, first thing, made a bee-line to me and gave me his card and said "You know, I've just really enjoyed you letting me talk about jazz a lot, and any time you're around playing, let me know and I'd like to hear it."

    Well, it appears he is an attorney at law....wait a sec...yeah, it's legit.

    So, anyway, when I see the card, I'm like "Oh, is he going to want to do a thing about personal injury or if I need counsel against the Goliath in the future?"

    No, I don't think so.

    Well....yeah, actually. I'm not sure what he was doing working for...what, three weeks?....at some shitty manual labor job....

    I don't know, and don't really care, but I guess I have a local attorney who has his own practice who wants some business or at least a jazz show out of it. I told him "Man, well, I don't really bring out my gear anymore, but you never know, I might get a call someday." (I know two local attorneys, friends [one, from childhood, the other, BFF with my sister during her high school], but they work for big firms and have specializations).

    So, that was weird, but I guess I have my own soul-brother Saul Goodman on my team, without rifling through the yellow pages. Should the need arise.

    I somewhat doubt I'm going to see that guy again, but he was an amiable-enough dude, and was pretty knowledgeable about jazz music, and, when he pestered me enough to reveal some of my interests, French literature and...

    What a character. I like that: Gray Panther Saul Goodman drums up business for his sole proprietorship LLC. Probably was a bit too young for the real revolution of black power and is trying to get some back.

    Yeah, I didn't want to describe a whole thing about it, but anyway, that was pretty random and pointless.

    Shit. I don't even want to speculate. Hell, it's definitely an oddity. And true story! I wish I could make stuff like this up, but then I'd have to spend hours over the fucking keyboard. .....

    FULL CIRCLE!!!!

    That last remark reminds me of one of Barry Smith's points in his paper with Jorst (?) Landgrebe ..... the one that demonstrates why generalized AI is a retarded fantasy...oh, yeah, the notion of a Turing respondent will not be able to satisfy the completeness-despite-loci-of-indeterminacy-pace-ingarden (my terminology).

    Oh, I think that's what they call "rambling," so that's more than enough.

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    OK. Yeah, he's legit in his profession, but over the past few weeks (I don't know what the amounts to in terms of days spent working together — no more than twelve days), I get the idea, given his volubility (and he has the knowledge to back it up), and our discussions about what an UG education costs, and his apparent pride in talking (not much, just a bit here and there — he's cautious) about his son and daughter and their UG experiences, and how he wanted to give that to them, business is slow for him, and he just was slumming it a bit for the experience.

    Maybe make a few hundred extra bucks for a treat for himself or something. I don't know.

    That and probably just (i) bored of sitting around the office waiting for the phone to ring and (ii) wondering how come his kids are in the big coastal areas and (iii) might as well make a few bucks just standing around chatting with people.

    That's my best guess.

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    Second day in a row, driving home at my usual time.

    No assholes driving up my route back home! (ETA, OK, fine, probably every single person on the road was a fucking dickhead, including me, but it didn't show in their driving).

    I think Abbie Hoffman or somebody put something in the water, and I approve.

    Pretty goddamned good!
    Last edited by Jizzelbin; 24 Jul 2019 at 08:09 PM.

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    I was making a first attempt to tidy up my place and I guess I felt a little guilty about the many, many, many beer cans and such I've just tossed out, so I bagged up what turned out to be like a couple hundred empties, just in my office (a shocking amount — I'd forgotten that half of the floor existed).

    So, in my US county, most grocery stores are not required to accept and pay out the ten cent bottle deposit.

    Instead they have some private contractor called BottleDrop that takes care of that.

    I managed to find the one nearest me and go out there. I was headed out that way anyway, so for you eco-people, it didn't really burn much more gas. Obviously, the gasoline used far, far outweighed the miniscule "savings," if any, from my own recycling, but whatever. I got almost twenty bucks cash and got to people watch and amuse myself on a day off.

    Pretty unremarkable, smooth process. It was a Friday at about 1030, but there was still a decent line of people. Lots of mothers with their children and stuff.

    HOWEVER, apparently the machine says "Our business does not accept this brand" or something like that to Olde English 400 bottles.

    Remarkably strange. The machine accepted everything else, including all kinds of ghetto beers a lot stronger than OE.

    Weird things are happening!
    Last edited by Jizzelbin; 26 Jul 2019 at 07:51 PM.

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    Quote Originally posted by Jizzelbin View post
    So, thoughtfully I had a black Sharpie in the car and was able to scrawl in caps, "FUCK YOU CUNT" on the permit as I dutifully placed it in the window.

    All in all, a pretty good day, actually.
    All I did today was

    (i) think about laundering towels and blankets in hot water, and then not do it, because doing laundry sucks

    (ii) walk out to my car with a roll of Gorilla tape and tape the permit to the lower RF edge of the windshield from the inside. Yes, it still says "FUCK YOU CUNT" (which is an ambiguous statement it could be an amatory advance or an alert to an adversary).

    (iii) wonder if the permit (iiia) is visible enough to that cunt property manager (iiib) is liable to be lost when I drive with the LF window down, which is nearly always (iiic) think about taking a photograph of the vehicle from the outside with the permit displayed as backup

    (iv) i innerly rejoice at having mastered the art of walking in flip-flops, and am considering making it my only footwear. void where prohibited.

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    Hunh.

    Yeah, I was thinking about the first scenes in the movie The Blues Brothers and how, at the age of seven coming up, my middle nephew kind of reminds me of Jake Blues. Before, he reminded me of Lou Costello, but now I think he's doing it on purpose, the few times I see him, just to be a funny guy.

    So, anyway, I watched a bit of the movie again and at the start of the James Brown scene, I was "inspired" to go to the piano and do...well, I just did the theme from The Jeffersons. I think that's also in G, IIRC, but it doesn't matter.

    I found it uncomfortable to play in, so I just moved to Bb.

    I really tried to do the bassline to "Compared to What" and keep it going while doing something in the RH, but about all I could manage was to drift into "Think" and then just into whatever that Aretha tune is, like "Since You Been Gone."

    I don't know. I'd been playing a bit earlier in Bb, just like good old stuff.

    I found it difficult to play some octave runs in the RH (you know, just improvising some around the melody with the RH), and I found it difficult to keep that on-top-almost-ahead-of-the-beat feel going. Yeah, I mean, that's how I hear bebop and everything, but for more roots kind of music, I hear the beat implied and my LH is steady and it's the RH that is driving that "on top of the beat" feeling, just with some punctuations up in the top of the keyboard.

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