Recently in random thought Category

If you're viewing this site from Belleville High School (home of the Battlin' Buffs), would you mind either posting a comment or sending me an email? I'm curious about who you are.

Thanks.

It started with an Academy flyer that I noticed in the pile of bi-weekly advertisements. In about five seconds, my mind had raced through the following thoughts:

Internal dialogue has been expanded into complete sentences for the sake of readability.

• What about that shotgun you were thinking about getting for next dove season?
• No, I'd rather spend that money on a new bike. Besides, I already have a shotgun.
• Yeah, that's right, and I have enough other guns too.
• Maybe I could sell one of my other guns to have more money to spend on the bike...
• No, the only one that I don't really use that much is the SKS and it was practically a graduation gift from dad.
• Hey, I bet I could find plans online to convert the SKS to fully automatic! I've been wanting to learn about machining!
• You know, I'd really rather not do anything that would put me at risk to face federal weapons charges.

Got the following notices in a message titled "Enjoy your lifetime".

Since the 21 age, your physical structure tardily arrests carries out a grave internal secretion known as Soul Growth Internal Secretion. The reduction of it, which governs grades of another hormones in your physical structure is directly answerable for many of the most usual markings of growing old, for example wrinkles, white hair, sinked power, and lessened sexual purpose.

After the 25 age, our physical structure slowly arrests releasing a grave hormone known as Somebody Increase Hormone. The diminution of it, that adapts grades of another hormones in the physical structure is immediately liable for many of the most ordinary markings of geezerhood, as crinkles, white hair, decreased power, and diminished intimate function.

I thought I'd felt my power decreasing. Now at least I know why.

I was in New Jersey back in May for work, I took a side trip on my last day into New York City. I jotted down some notes on the back of a Lindy's receipt - stuff that I meant to turn into a post. It's eight months later and I still haven't done it.

Here's the notes so I can go ahead and throw the receipt away.

Contrast of RO's vs Lindy's - two of the better desserts I've had in a while - couldn't be more different locations/experiences

Charley's vs. White Castle
$40 vs $4.99 - only good thing about Charley's was the beer - Flying Fish ale.

Wish I hadn't missed the morning ferry - sprinted for the evening.

NYC not as imposing from the pier - very different from the sidewalk. Glad I kept my bearings, wish I'd understood the subway.

Hello, I'm a meme! If you're reading me, without even thinking, you're considering my well-being and perpetuation. If you want me to live, copy these four sentences, and paste them somewhere other people will read. Thanks!

I've finally gotten my spam filters fine-tuned well enough that only one or two messages is making it to my inbox each day. There's still a few false-positives ending up in my Spam folder, but that number is decreasing as time goes on.

Whenever a message goes into the Spam folder that isn't automatically marked for deletion from the server, I take a look at it to see if there's anything unique that I can filter on for the next time. The message I just opened up contained the following hidden words, apparently to evade filtering:

amongst phosphate nipple look chance checkpoint shareholder spikenard advocacy germantown bangkok opt binomial disgustful pail woven vertigo visitation bucknell calypso ascent commission mutandis symphonic couple bloody loath allusion atwater mizar pontiff chart epitome guildhall plankton transferor izvestia sachs damascus tragic catch pinto cartography rasa intoxicant levy pollster berenices camp turbojet valois cherokee infest snakebird approbation halide diehard coyote yearn knockout snowflake military irritable defecate nurture intervenor noisy

By posting that list, I think my site will now be a result for any possible Google search.

This is the slogan emblazoned on the splash guards in the urinals in my company's bathroom. I've been mildly disturbed by it ever since the guards were first installed a few weeks ago.

What does it mean to "Use Healthy Hands"? Is this some bastardized foreign translation of "wash your hands"? Should we wear gloves in the restroom or something? I'm all for fighting germs, but I need better instructions.

Ok, I really want a new TV. Specifically, I really want this TV. It would round out my home theater perfectly, and would let me move my old TV into our bedroom.

It's a pretty new model, and the price reflects it. But I have a 10% off coupon that coincides with 24 month interest free financing at Best Buy this weekend. I know I can wait a few months and the price will probably drop as HDTV continues to gain ground and more comparable models come out. If I pay less for the TV, then I have more to spend on other toys, like the progressive scan DVD player I'll need. But even if the price drops $500, it's about the same monthly payment if I can only get 18 months interest free. $500 is still $500, though.

What it boils down to is this: there are several logical reasons to wait, but none of them are as gratifying as getting a new TV tomorrow.

I love tubing. I try to go once a year. It's becoming painfully obvious that tubing does not love me, however. From now on I'm sticking to the Guadalupe.

The first time I floated the Comal was the summer of 1994, with a HOBY alumni reunion. We rented from the Ole Mill Stream near Landa Park. Everything was going great until we reached the dam at the end of the Prince Solms tube chute. I'd seen several people float over the dam and it looked like a good way to finish the chute experience. Nope. I went over sideways, the waterfall hit the side of my tube, and I capsized to the right, bashing my head against the side of the dam. I nearly lost my sunglasses and was dizzy for about the next half-hour.

My next trip was during the summer of '97. A group of us met in Austin at Sarah and Michelle's apartment in order to caravan to New Braunfels. While I suffered no physical damage this time around, my sense of schedule and organization suffered a great deal. I think about six hours passed from when we first met until we got into the river. During that time we:

• Finally caught up with part the group of Aggies from College Station that said they'd meet us "somewhere along I-35 in San Marcos" rather than choosing a designated rendezvous in advance
• Waited about 20 minutes on a farm-to-market road south of San Marcos for the rest of the Aggies that decided they just had to go outlet shopping that morning
• Sent a recovery party for the part of our group that had decided we were leaving from Gruene rather than the Ole Mill Stream
• Upon their return, sent said party on a search for tubes, as we had taken so long to get together that Ole Mill Stream had run out
• Sent another group on a beer/cooler run

Last weekend, we returned to the river as part of Robyn and Nick's wedding day festivities. Texas Tubes picked all of us up from the hotel, which eliminated most of the problems of the prior trip. Their employees repeatedly warned us not to go over the dam. I needed no extra discouraging. Portaging around the falls went smoothly for me, but Josephine managed to miss her tube completely when re-entering the water. About 30 minutes later, I got out of the water to throw away some trash. Mary Alice had floated ahead about 30 feet, so I thought I'd get a running start at my tube to gain some momentum. Sometime during my half-twist to land in a normal tubing position, I misjudged the distance to my tube and overshot by about a foot. Not too bad, just enough to overbalance, backflip into the water, and smack the back of my head against the rocks at the bottom of the river. The bleeding stopped by the next morning, but I still have a pretty good sized knot up there.

Perhaps the taste of blood has appeased the river gods that are apparently upset with me, but I'm not going to chance it. Odds are they're going for a limb next time.

Well, someone has figured out how to get me to read the junk mail that gets sent to my Hotmail account.

Subject:
Fried Chicken, Mashed Potatoes, Warm Biscuits on us

Turns out it was an attempt to solicit my address for KFC gift certificates. I think I'll pass, but I know what I want for lunch now.