Thought Chasm

Archive for November, 2007

office efficiency: waste management

Friday, November 30th, 2007

I have to wonder because that’s what I do when I’m monotonously placing copy in individual modules that eventually becomes page elements what sort of idiot dreamed up the paper-less office. Predicting folk would ditch paper in favor of pixels is bold. We’ve had paper for a few thousand years and computers for a few decades. I realize we could be at the cusp of a revolution here, but that cusp has been a long time coming.

Do you know what we have to show for it? You can stop shouting answers, I can’t hear you, and those around you are dialing physicians. My desk looks like an oak tree performed Seppuku and twisted on his way down. It’s customary here as with most places that hate the planet to print a document, with slight updates, that has already been printed, and then hand them out to a bunch of people who don’t care to look at it.

Offices are forward thinking, you say? Sure. If by “forward thinking” you mean they consider ecological disaster to be a fiscal goal. There have been numerous, ignored, digital memorandums that looked to organize and recycle the bulk of the pulpy tide. The giant blue bin still fills up faster with paper than a college dorm fills with ignorance on move-in day.

People are not only holding on to their paper-consuming ways, they’re increasing their habit exponentially. These piles of thinly sliced 8.5in by 11in used-to-be-tree-matter are what happens when too many morons have too easy access to programs like Word, Excel, and a color printer.

Just now, I’m looking down at an Excel spreadsheet which I think is the fifth iteration that looks exactly like the first, but for a few words and maybe a hue with color combinations a kindergardener would avoid for fear he’d be ridiculed. In an attempt an hilarious one at that to save paper, the type is quite small and it’s printed in landscape orientation. Did the person who sent this to the overworked printer forget that they had already printed four other versions that were similarly ignored?

To make things worse, like adding pit sweat to a shit sandwich the very thing computers were meant for is being utilized. There is a copy of this fucking spreadsheet on a shared server only two people don’t have access to. Apparently, on top of wasting their own time, the earth’s resources, and the financial investment of the money-strapped company in supplies, the person printing this gem wanted to use up some data storage space.

Nice prediction, science.

Posted in recap, wtf?? | Comments Off

capacity curiosity

Wednesday, November 28th, 2007

I was chilling with a soon-to-be nurse on Saturday. Enlightening. Apparently, the male bladder is larger than the female. She said by 250ccs which, if you care, equate to mls; an ounce is about 29.5 mls; the things you learn right?. She mentioned that the male’s was about a thousand ccs about 34 ounces. Seems like I’m a bit lacking in that regard guess there had to be one area where the luster of my perfection was slightly dulled right? considering how many trips to the depository I sort out in a typical night of brain-cell slaughter. Or so many in a typical day at the office drinking a couple jugs off the tap.

I was confused which happens more recently than I’d like to admit, so I went to looking because tutoring a dozen people in the ways of a content management system doesn’t fill my day, or something around the interweb for more information. And now, as a service to you still reading and that number has to be lower than those entering the first paragraph; just playing the odds, I will give you a brief of what I’ve learned.

The actual size of the bladder is completely ambiguous. How, after a few thousand years of recorded history and six thousand if you’re one of those people, we’ve still managed to avoid finding an average size of the human bladder, I don’t know, but we have a range. The site I found, which was compiled by students because I’m an equal opportunity researcher, did a bunch of looking that I’d never do and found estimates between 470 ml and 1000 ml.

That doesn’t mean shit though ha, gotcha. because the real value to keep an eye on figuratively… seriously, figuratively is micturition. What, you may ask because I sure as shit did is micturition? It’s the point that your stretch receptors flare up and you involuntarily empty duh. These students figure you’ll micturate at between 150 and 300 ml full because that’s what the majority of their research—the kind I’m not doing—found. No shit. I can keep over twenty ounces in the old post-kidney holding tank, but spring a leak at half-full? Seems unfair. And that’s an optimistic prediction. A couple others set micturition at about twenty percent.

What sort evolutionary ridiculousness is this? When were we so full up on water and so far away from a place to piss as in: anywhere near a forest or moderately sized hole that we needed to drain the main one when we were more than half empty? That doesn’t even make sense.

In northern-european cavemen dialect Garnich, take the… Garnich? (From a quarter-mile away) Sorry guys, just had to piss… I swear I went before I left… Stop yelling though, or I can’t go…. (their prey, an ancestor of an elk looks up and darts off)… collective sigh… Oh, and I made that up. Garnich didn’t have a last name. Everyone knows that didn’t become popular ’til after the fourteenth century, but I digress.

Can you train these receptors? Say I’m sitting in my office, staring at a screen, listening to the sucking whoosh of my soul deserting me and want to prolong the time between detours to the porcelain palace. Is it like practicing to hold your breath longer?

What did I learn today aside from needing to find something more productive to do with my idly firing synapses? That the bladder, among the organs, is a gigantic pussy. In fact, it’s not even fair to compare the two even as a figure of speech though vulgar, it still applies; it’s a play on words (feel free to picture the staff here at u.t.d. bowing—because we are). The bladder is so pathetic it rivals the appendix and I sure as hell miss the little guy in overall efficient use of cells. For fucksake, my kidney was in three relatively distinguishable pieces and he’s running just fine. Try that and see how you turn out, you sack of piss see what i did there?.

Wait, whoa… sorry. Got ahead of myself there. It’s good to have him around. I’d hate to be the guy that micturated all over himself.

Posted in random schtuff, reflection, wtf?? | Comments Off

blog-inspired emoto-roller-coaster

Tuesday, November 27th, 2007

Reading the posts of others can be traumatizing. I’m all spun around. I looked back at my reader, found a few posts from friends as in, actual acquaintances, in real life, physically, and got my read on. It didn’t start out so well.

One friend posted about some shit that went down in illinois go figure; those folk are tweaked; bears fans? really?. I went to the linked article and had a read there as well.

When a woman can pose online as someone else, provoke a 13-year-old, then turn on her, which may be one of many reasons if not the primary one she ends up committing suicide, there’s really no turning back. Granted, there’s no way of knowing what Hitler or Manson could have done with the interweb an online dating site?, but even they may have balked at this one. Also, a brick through the window? A paintball fired at the house? That’s the specific forms of harassment they list?

Maybe things are different ’round those parts, but I could think of a dozen things more effective in helping someone realize they’re a bitch. Photoshopped images of an imagined marital affair? Maybe that sounds harsh. Maybe you readers aren’t concerned with a woman tapping into the most insecure period of a girl’s life in order to make her feel guilty about not being friends with her daughter.

Think back to that first growth spurt, the unforgiving mirrors, and that first boy that ignored you in favor of the early-developed slut, Stacey, who never invites you to gatherings and laughs at you because you’re so late in perfecting the binge-purge…. what’s that? Nope, sorry, I rarely carry bricks with me… but, do you know how to use Photoshop? I have an idea…

At this point, I’m pretty sure we’re screwed. After reading such things I get a little down. Not to the point of following the topic of The Bridge or anything, but I’m not exactly optimistic about our species-related future. I decide against any media-oriented blogs that’s almost a digital form of masochism at this point and head toward the lighter side of things.

A few overheard quotes later, I’m back at posts from friends and in good spirits because stupid people are funny, obviously. A buddy enlightens me to a sweet little chunk of interweb. I guess the folk on the right side of things wanted a place for their teenage copatriots to shake their asses to God-Hop jams or something. Also, could Denise Jackson be more hyped on this site?

I came upon this gem and had myself a look-see. Seems I have another and there are many reason to hate Hoobastank and their power-ballad-esque attempt at sweetness named the reason. It’s a compo-vid made by a youth group that includes clips from Kids, Thirteen, Redemption, and The Passion of the Christ. All these movies exaggerate see: fabricate reality as a cautionary statement except Passion of the christ, which glorifies violence to make Jews look like assholes; or that’s just my impression, but as you can tell by Mel Gibson being insane, he’s much smarter than I.

Which proves that religious folk are still using fear and extreme examples to beat metaphorically, of course—church-related violence was over decades ago (in first-world countries); strictly frowned upon their audience into submission. Surround that with teenagers, brought up blindly in the ways of heaven and hell, confessing what God is to them think chris crocker, but replace Britney references with Jesus/God and a few hundred attempts to bring religion into every day culture, and you have yourself a pretty impressive slice of ignorant bliss.

At least I’ll always be entertained by the expansive, void-like, bleakness that is current human culture. That and I’m barely affected my egotism is much like a red dwarf star. So I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.

Posted in haha, media, random schtuff | 1 Comment »

bird

Monday, November 26th, 2007

It was always easy. I could create a personality depending on those around me. I could switch between them as easily as trading masks. For some I listened to country music, others heard hard rock. Sometimes I was obsessed with female conquest; other times I barely even mentioned girls. With some people I watched dramatic films with various plot lines and strong characters; with others I sat through shallow romantic comedies.

Some girlfriends saw an adoring puppy, more saw an emotionally-distant asshole. Friends could see an opinionated smart ass or an apolitical moron, ignorant of current events. Different facets were emphasized with different friends. All the sides were there, all the time, but depending on the environment, some were polished and some were rough, chipped, or unfinished. I used to spend days in relative solitude, taking the time to reorganize, reconnect with, and process everything going on around me. I found relief in the quiet, in not having to impress or perform. I don’t do that now.

I used to spend time with people I felt superior to. People that were more socially awkward, dumber, less interesting, uglier, more naive, or less mature. Now I take time with those that tend to expand my horizons, challenge me, or make me think. Things are more engaging and satisfying. My tastes have changed.

I found sets of friends that I feel comfortable around. I don’t feel as strained. Most are interested in the same things or add to conversations about topics I enjoy discussing. Around them, I can follow insight with stupidity. I don’t have to dumb things down or talk above me. They are entertaining. I’ve tried to form closer friendships, but can’t tell if they’re getting to know me or one of the acts I’ve been putting on for so long.

My sarcasm is more insulting. I care less about being offensive and more about myself. It’s become harder to let people in. I talk too much and say almost nothing. It’s hard to see through the fog of stupidity, lack of forethought, and disrespect. I’m always tired. I distance myself from most everything. I close off and push things back toward superficial when I feel uncomfortable. I work with people I don’t like, live with people I don’t really know, and hang out with some people I don’t necessarily want to hang out with. I have opinions about things I don’t care about. I make loud absurd comments about things that don’t effect me.

I don’t spend as much time by myself; sometimes I’m afraid to. I’ve become lost in the different sides if a personality that I can’t be sure is mine. Am I doing what I should be doing? Am I with the people I should be with? Am I paying attention to things that are important or just things that are popular? Am I really listening? Is everything as hopeless I make it seem? Why is it so much easier to talk about things that don’t matter? Why is it so much harder to do things I should be doing than things I don’t care about? Am I geographically where I want to be?

For almost two miles, the gray Buick has been behind me in the left lane, just far enough back that I can’t comfortably switch lanes in front of it. It had been going a few miles faster than I, but slowed down to my speed, staying between six and ten feet off my left bumper. I’m gaining on a red Jeep, and quickly. My first reaction is to yell at the driver to my left. To call him any number of derogatory names he can’t hear, make loud gestures he can’t see, and make a scene within the confines of my own car for my own benefit.

Maybe he’s having a distracting conversation with his passenger. Maybe he’s not using cruise control because of traffic further behind. Maybe he’s just another member of the vast majority of motorists, driving with impressive inattentiveness. Maybe he’s a gigantic asshole, with few friends and a child that hates him. Maybe he just came out of a pack of particularly inconsiderate drivers and is in a horrible mood. My yelling or gesturing for him to pass would do nothing but annoy my passengers.

I speed up slightly, signal, and cut in front of him, knowing the space is too tight. He slows down, then speeds up in order to tailgate, and flicks me off for a full thirty seconds. I pass the Jeep, pull back to the right lane, and watch him emphatically pass on my left. Along side me, he slows, but I can’t see him, only his passenger gesturing for him to calm down and trying not to glance my direction. He passes and is quickly far ahead of me. Then I can’t see him at all.

Why was my first urge so hostile? I don’t care either way. I’m not in a hurry and the change in position wouldn’t alter my arrival time significantly, if at all. I look into the back seat, where one passenger is sleeping, by appearances, uncomfortably, then over to my other passenger, going through what looks like receipts and in her own world of organization. I doubt they were paying attention to the jerk passing me.

They won’t sympathize or pet my ego with comments of how big an asshole he was or how smartly I handled the situation. The conversation will quickly shift to something less or more pressing and the whole thing forgotten. They don’t care that for less than five miles out of three hundred fifty, I was dealing with a douchebag. I don’t need them to. I don’t think.

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and we’re back

Monday, November 26th, 2007

Twas a long weekend kids. There was Ike, there were flicks, there was food, there was Chasin’ Mason, there was a hitching post, there were relatives, and probably some other stuff. It’s not likely you care, as most things that are funny to me are based on inside jokes and idiocy, so instead of boring you with a recap, here are some see: shitton quotes, from various overheard blogs, that helped me start out this fine post-holiday Monday.

College girl #1: I didn’t know New Orleans was, like, part of the United States!
College girl #2: Yeah, stupid. It’s one of the 50 states!
College girl #1: Really?! Where is it.
College girl #2: I think it’s, like, between Texas and Florida.
College girl #1: Oh. (Pauses) Wait, how can that be when California is next to Texas and Florida is the last state on the right?? Then the bottom of the US would only be 4 states long, and I KNOW that’s not right!
College girl #2: (wakes up sleeping College Girl #3) Rachel, isn’t New Orleans the state between Texas and Florida??
College girl #3: Don’t ask me, I failed geometry AND history last semester. (closes eyes again).

Boyfriend, to his girlfriend who he’s laying on top of: Your hair is like the southern tip of Africa: boring and full of disease.

Sophomore guy #1: She got pissy that I didn’t want to talk to her anymore.
Sophomore guy #2: What did you do?
Sophomore guy #1: I told her, ’I have pressing GPA issues to worry about and can’t be concerned with whether or not you are going to be giving me head.’

Chick: So, how is the roommate situation?
Dude: It’s annoying that she is drunk all of the time. She keeps locking herself out or bringing home random guys.
Chick: Amazing that she still finds the time to be a preschool teacher.

Boss: So, the word from corporate is that we’re supposed to hang these on the windows as part of the new plan from Marketing?
Marketing assistant: Yeah.
Boss: But corporate service requirements say we’re not ever allowed to hang anything on any windows.
Marketing assistant: Right. Essentially, we have to figure out a way to put them on the windows without actually putting them on the windows.
Boss: Awesome.

Coworker #1: What?
Coworker #2: [Blank stare.]
Coworker #1: What?
Coworker #2: [Slight smirk.]
Coworker #1: What is it?
Coworker #2, smiling: Are you with child?
Coworker #1, growling: No!
Coworker #2: [Turns and quickly walks back to her office.]

Tourist to vendor: Do you know where I can buy kosher pork chops?

Cute lab tech guy: So, to take a stool sample, take this stick and smear it in here.
Hot girl patient: I have to smush it?
Cute lab tech guy: Yep, like that. So, do you have a boyfriend?

Cube rat on cell: So, I’m really annoyed because TJ* keeps ordering movies on the TV, and I told him he’s going to have to pay for them… I just don’t trust him… I know he’s my boyfriend! You can block someone from doing that? Cool! … I know, and he kept asking me whether I minded because he was ordering lots of movies, or if I minded that some of them were porn…

Market Shopper: So, where does your coffee come from?
Coffee Seller: It depends what you’re looking at, but it says on the bag the Mexican is from Mexico, Guatemalan is from Guatemala…
(Awkward silence)
Market Shopper: Oh, so it’s from Mexico?

Homeless guy: Can I get a smoke?
Girl: Yeah, sure.
Homeless guy: Must be nice having money, huh?
Girl: (hands him a cigarette) Yeah, sure is fun working for it, too.

Co-worker: I want to travel outside the United States… to somewhere like Hawaii.

St. Thomas Girl: Wow, since I started this new diet I’ve lost 7 pounds! All I have to do is drink this gross diet drink.
St. Thomas Guy: Really?
St. Thomas Girl: Yeah, My roommate has lost 12 pounds since Sunday, and it’s only TUESDAY!
St. Thomas Guy: Wow, I can only imagine what your bathroom smells like.

RA: Does anyone else have a question?
Freshman girl: Yeah, can we park overnight in the parking garage that has the ’No overnight parking’ sign in front of it?

Drunk girl: Tunisia is a place in Africa. They have lots of problems in Africa… And I’m going to fix them! [Falls down.]

Customer: And I want Reese’s with that. Not a lot, but more than the normal amount, but not too much.
Ice cream artist: Okay…?

Boss: Why does your ’Help’ work?
Employee: Because I installed it and set it up correctly.
Boss: Why doesn’t Greg’s* ’Help’ work, then?
Employee: Do you want me to go in there and help him wipe, too?

Professor: Who can tell me the difference between a birch tree and a beech tree?
Student: A beech tree’s got lighter bark.
Professor: But otherwise there’s no difference?
Student: I dunno ’bout the leaves or anything, but when you buy furniture from IKEA, beech wood’s always lighter.
Professor: But could you identify a birch tree from a beech tree if you saw one on campus?
Student: If I cut it down, maybe.

Cashier: Will this be all?
Lady: I also want one Kabbalah. [Cashier looks at her, puzzled.] This dessert [points into case].
Cashier: Baklava, ma’am.

Bimbette tourist: Oh, right, yeah — I need to find some belts. Do Chinese people wear belts?

Mormon guy: Some of my fondest childhood memories are of my dad beating the shit out of people.

Native American woman to lady dressed as Indian: I find your costume very offensive.
Lady dressed as Indian: No… But I’m part of the Village People [points to girls dressed as cop and construction worker].
Native American woman, after long pause: Oh, well, that’s okay, then.

Old woman: That’s the problem with men — they treat kids like little adults instead of like–
Younger woman: –Kids?
Old woman: No. Like terrorists.

Biotech #1: They really need kennels for children.
Biotech #2: It’s called school.

Dutch tourist as four very fat tourists waddle by: I bet they’re American.

Woman looking at plate of fajitas: Ummm, I ordered fajitas.
Waiter: Those are fajitas…
Woman: Oh. [Begins eating fajitas.]

Teen girl #1: So, I was in Health today, and the teacher was telling us about how you can get gonorrhea in your eye by giving someone a blowjob.
Teen girl #2: I think the entire point of that class is to scare you out of having sex.

Yale girl: Last night when I was getting ready to go to bed I was putting pajamas on and there was half a quesadilla in my bra.

And that, kids, is what you call phoning it in. What? I’m tired. And, to be honest, very, very bored. And this is the first offering since Tuesday. Beggars can’t be choosers, as they say.

Incidentally, if you’re begging for updated content from me, please take some time and partake in the following activities: start wearing pants clean ones, not just the passably clean ones, inform your mother that, at twenty-seven, you’re ready to pay your societal weight which has grown impressive after your metabolistic slowdown, apply at your local McDonald’s they’ve helped so many; into obesity? maybe, but that’s still helping isn’t it?, turn off M.T.V., and exit your basement not knocking basements here; for obvious reasons. It’s time for your butterfly-from-cocoon moment.

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no country for old men

Saturday, November 24th, 2007

Depressing. In one word, that’s what I’d say to sum this film up. It’s a violent drama depicting the disintegration of our society. It’s bleak. It’s intense. And it’s a great film (though most films based on popular books are). It took me quite awhile to concede that I liked it as much as I do. It’s twisted.

The Coen brothers are known for their off-beat and complex films. Their writing is unique in our time, or ever. I admit, I’m a fan. I like what they’ve done in the way of the man who wasn’t there, O Brother, Where art thou?, and Fargo. I loved what they did with the big lebowski. I was curious, because this was a book adaptation, how this film would reflect their style. It was surprisingly similar. They seem to have found a book they could identify with as far as writing.

Basically, the film centers around a few characters that are confused opportunists and an assassin. There’s a fog of uncertainty obscuring the lines of right and wrong. The sheriff (Tommy Lee Jones), over the course of the film, becomes more and more disconcerted with the state of things around him. He’s disoriented in the wave of modern violence and longs for the days when sheriffs were respected. He sees nothing but death around him, and as we are taken along a violent struggle between an assassin and an opportunistic Vietnam veteran who comes upon a horrific scene, it only gets worse.

The directing is spot on. It’s almost a dreary film, with little visual contrast. The story toggles between the sheriff’s investigation and the assassin’s pursuit and the opportunist’s desperate attempts to escape with his bounty. The scenery is stark and the sets are drab. The mood, translated through the lens, is heavy, almost oppressive.

The acting is great in its subtlety. The characters are ordinary people, put in an extraordinary position. The only exception being the assassin, played by Javier Bardem (the sea inside). He is cold, calculating, and his voice is transfixing. There is no reaction to any of his many kills, and there is no remorse or afterthought shown in his eyes. Tommy Lee’s performance is impressive. You can almost feel the weariness with him.

I hadn’t read the book, so the story was surprising. It was unpredictable and spliced together very well. The pace kept me at the edge of my seat, but eased up when necessary. I’d recommend this to almost anyone, but it may leave you uneasy.

***** (upon further review, this is easily worth five)

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