I Have to Pass

I now have an oppotunity to move from 3rd shift to 1st, but I can't take it because I can't afford to give up the extra money (shift differential) I make on 3rd.

Crap.

We Saw It First

AT&T's DSL service went down yesterday in the Western states. Our monitoring board lit up like a Christmas tree all at once. Our company is apparently using AT&T DSL for a lot of VPN traffic, or making our Internet traffic safe from your prying eyes.

We had Qwest chasing their tails for quite a while, telling us it wasn't they who were having any problems. Finally we realized our traces were dying at an AT&T router.

That was a hectic little spell I didn't need at the end of a 10-hour all-night shift. My firm and long-held belief that AT&T sucks donkey has been reaffirmed.




I know. What a lame post. Really, it's hard to come up with anything when you work all night and sleep all day. I'll work harder.

Snake Killed Dumbledore!

You know what? I’m finding little worth blogging about while the world sleeps, and I vigorously monitor the ‘Enterprise Network Operations Center’.

One cool thing happened, though. I was riding my bike along the American River Trail on the way in this evening, and saw a large rattlesnake stretched out on the asphalt. I thought he was dead, but nope, just chillin’. He was a big sucker. I turned around to have a better look, but he decided discretion was the better part of valor and high-tailed it into the bushes.

So watch out for those bushes, Kah-lee-foan-eeyans. Snakes might be under them. And this boy was big.

Oh, the title? Just something I heard an idiot say the other day.

Ah Canna Gie Ye Any More

Yesterday, James Doohan, who played Scotty on Star Trek TOS (The Original Series, for non-geeks), went to the Final Frontier.

He had not been well, was suffering from Alzheimer’s. About a year ago, Trek geeks in Los Angeles set up a benefit ‘convention’ for him. To my knowledge, that was his last public appearance. He will be missed. Better to go though, than to linger in that kind of state.

Also, it will always stick in my mind that he died on Moon Landing Day.

Hailing frequencies closed, Mr. Scott.

Missive from Dawn

This might be a fun experiment. I'll post around 5:30 AM, when I've been up all night and I'm starting to get weird. I'm wasting too much good material on message boards, I ought to put some up here. But, maybe you aren't interested in debating the merits of being a 14 year-old boy and crossing paths with Debbie Lafave.

I lost my 'NOC (Network Operations Center) night - shift cherry virginity' tonight. I had to wake up an on-call person at around midnight, because it seemed a server had gone down. She sleepily and not-too-crankily explained that it has been taken out of service. I managed not to mention that if her group would update the freakin' database to reflect that this server is no longer 'production' then I wouldn't have called. Oh well. Boo hoo.

I had to wake her up again at 4. Heh. This time a legit server had crashed. She stepped me through remote reboot, and all was well. Then, she mentioned that I need to look at the "Memory Dump Procedure", which I'm pretty sure doesn't exist anyway. She wasn't quite so not-cranky this time.

Now, the sun's coming up and it's really beautiful. I'd appreciate it more, but I'm the parent of a toddler. I've seen enough effing dawns the past two years to last me a lifetime.

I have a little over two hours to go. Weird part about this shift on this job is, my brain is beginning to shut down, but now the East Coast is reporting for work and problems are about to start, meaning I have to be sharp. By the time 8 AM rolls around, I'm in a real state. Luckily I ride my bicycle home, so I'm not tempted to road-rage on anybody's ass. It's a nice decompression. Also, I get to check out the milfs who are out pushing their babies. You don't see them before seven, when I used to bike in for the day shift.

OK, peace and love.

Sheri, hang in there. I'm sending you the good Kalifornia energy.

Oh, yeah. Is anybody else reading the new 'Harry Potter'? Dumb question, I know. Without dropping any spoilers, I can't believe Rowling put the word 'slut' in there. I had to blink and check again. My my, Harry's growing up.

Hey, It's Great to be Back! I Know that Sounds Fake, But, Hey, it's Great to Be Back!

OMG, we’re back!

Many thanks to those of you who have kept a link to this humble virtual place in your blogs. You may have noticed that I’m coming back around.

And that’s because I got promoted. I am no longer a ‘network technician’, meaning going around with a screwdriver in a pouch on my belt; now I’m a ‘network operations specialist’, meaning I’m locked in a secure cavern all night making sure the denizens of the enterprise will still be able to get their email when they log in after the sun comes up.

If we get lucky, some worthwhile writing will spring from the keyboard as I while away the wee hours here.

But not today. It’s almost five in the morning. The hard hours are coming. After eight though, my weekly three-day weekend will begin. Woo hoo!

My Toddler, Beta Tester

I have an offer for you, Microsoft. Hire my toddler as a QA analyst.

She will find more hidden bugs and keyboard shortcuts than any PhD geek you got there in Redmond.

One of her favorite games is to come up from behind when someone is at the computer, slip up and start banging away on the keyboard. Or, hit the power switch on the front of the case and shut the whole thing down. And baby, XP will let that thing shut down hard.

I've noticed, however, that there is a hidden good in this baby anarchy. She finds keyboard shortcuts to do things I never would have dreamt. Some of the stuff I can't recreate. She did find a way to change the map perspective in my Civilization game, that one I've used quite a bit since.

She's teaching me to let go of prior notions and just give something a try.

Nigerian Pope?

Word on the street is that they're looking at a Nigerian cardinal as a possibility for the next Pope.

I can see it now: New Pope appears at the window in St. Peter's Square. Blesses the crowd.

Makes an announcement, "The Vatican Bank needs a place to park thirty million dollars. Just give us your account number, we will wire the funds to that account. After ten days, we will give you two million dollars. Bless you my children."

It's Official... I'm a Fan

I had said before in a previous blog incarnation, I really detested the Wesley Crusher character in TNG Star Trek. I mean, lots of us did, no secret there.

Nuttin' personal against Wil Wheaton, who did a helluva job in Stand By Me and so on.

And, I really don't care for greasy fan boy type stuff. Even though I am a geek. So my better half tells me.

But I do count Wil's blog among my guilty pleasures, and I had been looking forward to his return to the tube tonight on CSI. I had read his entries regarding being cast, and his experiences on the set. Part of what I like about Wil's blog efforts is that he's straight up. Even if it might be a bit uncomfortable. And, as he put it, he was so happy to be on the show, he almost pissed himself.

As the show went on, I wondered if they had bumped his episode, until they mentioned "homeless guy". And there I was, smiling! Holy cripes.

A small part, very very well done. As a guest player, he was overshadowed timewise by one of the Baldwins, but Wil kicked Baldwin ass.

I really hope this will lead to bigger and better things for him. The guy can act. Nice damn job, Wil.

245 hands into the great '$25 free money 300 raked hands time-waster of the week' exercise, I crash and burn, my two pair victim of a set.

Yes, I really do want to stand up and leave the table, fuck you. I'm supposed to be studying, anyway.

Don't Blow it Now

Only sixty more raked hands of short handed $25 no limit hold'em to play until I work off my free $25 bonus. If you have pocket aces, son, and it's clear that your opponent has sucked into his flush at the river, throw them away.

How long, O Lord, will it take the boy to learn?

Star, DeBarge

A day without Fark is like a day without sunshine. Those Farkers do the annoying task of reading the news for you, then send the good stuff to Drew and he posts it up.

Today's best bit is a little story about how PETA has hired a large drag queen for their latest ad campaign, and how Star is testy enough about it to sue them.

Curiosity consuming me, I had to go out and see what the difference was.

Heh. Heh. If you can tell which is whom, you're better than I.

Bicycle Tax

A California assemblywoman (person) is proposing a $7 fee on every new bicycle sold in the state. Because, you know, people are throwing away junk bikes, and poor people need bikes, and shit like that.

Gawd, what a tax-happy state this is.

I have an idea for a new motto for the state:

"California. No Pocket Too Shallow."

Big Brother Hits the Road

You aren't buying enough gas; so the state is losing valuable revenue for roads. Solution: put GPS units in cars, track how much you drive, and when, then tax you by the mile.

Ag. Just jack up the tax if you have to, and stay the hell out of my business. One more reason to ride a bike to work.

Her Royal Highness, the Tramp

Just kidding. I'm happy for Charles and Camilla, really. To the extent that I care. Now he can be her tampon for all eternity.

The part that sticks with me is that the Church of England is 'concerned' that Charles, a divorced man, will be Chief Whatever of the Church if he becomes King.

Exsqueeze me?

To the best of my limited knowledge, the Anglican Church was created by Henry VIII so he could divorce his wife and marry Anne Boleyn, then chase an endless string of honeys, something Rome wouldn't allow him to do.

Church of England: "Hey kettle, you're black."

Bucca, baby

All the photos they didn't want you to see...

Haaawk

Yesterday, riding my bike home from work, one of the loogies I launched landed right on the front of my saddlebag. I didn't notice it until this morning.

On the good side, I was going fast enough for that to happen.

Oh, yeah. I gave blood for the first time since my chemotherapy a few years ago (which was for nut cancer, Bob). It felt good to be back in the saddle again. And, it's good to be back in shape (even though my ass is still too fat), and have the nurse comment on the slow rate of my mighty pulse (51). Just like back in the day, when the Red Cross nurse made me run in place in the hallway; 'cause she wasn't going to enter a pulse in the 40's in the books. Heh.

Love Chile

Here we go. Patton Oswalt's secret kid is now shilling toasty subs....

Yup, either that or I'm a damn liar.

Meh

Still kind of sick, and the old brain isn't up to composing entries.

So, here's a visual representation of my current attitude. Enjoy.

Fun Photo Study

http://jschumacher.typepad.com/photos/abandoned_bikes/index.html

"Abandoned Bikes of New York". Some of these pictures are kind of sad, but I just love photo essays.

Boomer Mortality Cometh

I'm back at work, a little the worse for wear from the nasty bug that ripped through the family last week. Bleah.

I'm also still in a Formula 44D - induced delerium, so I won't try to put together a structured post.

I just want to say how much I'll miss Johnny Carson. Hard to believe he'd been away from show biz for twelve years. What star power. It seemed to me that he'd always been around, and always would be. The fact that he's gone only punches home the fact that I, moi, am also getting older. Soon to crest the hill and such. Scary.

I always wanted some of those double-eraser pencils Johhny would tap on his desk during breaks. Too late now, I guess. Maybe I'll see if somebody has some on Ebay.

Oh yeah. Poker bloggers might want to note that Johnny was a regular in one of the most exclusive Hollywood home games going for many years. That will be a big chair to fill.

RIP, Johnny.

If You Loved Me You'd Bring Me the Gun

We've all been sick around the house the past few days. Real, 'should I just get through this or go on a murderous rampage because I feel so lousy sick'. I've not been quite as bad, so I took care of the young 'un. It was actually pretty cool, having lots of time with the baby.... except for the fact that I'm sick.

You know what I need? I need somebody with a Tivo to rip a frame of the face of the baby in the new Quizno's ads.

I have a theory about how that kid is the secret love child of Patton Oswalt.

But I need a pic to put side by side with his mug, for, like, y'know, proof.

Guess Who's Coming to the Lobby

Since there's not really much to post about this week... that doesn't sound horribly snarky, anyway... I could expound on how, if you've ever seen the town the mudslide hit in California, it's pretty obvious that you're living at the base of a mud cliff and that sucker just might let go some day. I've often wondered, driving by there, why the hell a person would build a house in that spot. But, whatever. No dumber on the part of Californians than their flyover country brethren who insist on living on flood plains, I guess.

Anyway. One of the guys at work rented Guess Who's Coming to Dinner today. It reminded me of a good Sidney Poitier story I'll relate for you.

In the mid - late eighties, I was working in a camera store in an upscale Atlanta mall. Across the street stood a Ritz - Carlton hotel. One day, in rushed a customer who needed a camera immediately.

"I'm staying at the Ritz, and I just saw Sidney Poitier there. My wife is a huge fan. I have to get a picture with him...."

This was before disposable cameras, so we looked at the lower-end point-n-shoots. The customer selected the cheapest piece of crap that we had.

I warned him that we'd seen lots of these come back defective, and he'd be better off spending the extra 30 bucks for a better model, this being a once in a lifetime picture (I made lots more commission on the piece of crap, so I actually was trying to help this guy out). He decided to gamble on the cheapo.

An hour or two later, he comes back. You guessed it, defective camera. No picture with Mr. Tibbs Poitier for his wife. He tells me he'll buy the better one, and see if he can get another picture.

I wished him best of luck with that.

Two hours later, what do you know. Here comes Mr. Customer, proudly bearing a photo of himself standing in the lobby of the Ritz - Carlton Buckhead with Sidney Poitier.

The front desk had called Mr. Poitier's room, explained this poor guy's situation, and asked if Mr. Poitier would be good enough to come down to the lobby to pose for a reshoot.

He was good enough to do just that.

To this day, I've admired Sidney (can I call him that? no, probably not) Mr. Poitier for being so generous with his time. That's got to be a rare phenomenon in the celebrity world.

Have a good weekend. Watch some movies. We will be.

I Am El Niño. That's Spanish for.... the Niño. - Chris Farley

I commute by bicycle. This is the first winter I’ve done it. I’m not going to complain about the weather in California. It ain’t so bad really.

But sheeeeeite! It’s frickin’ raining, man. I don’t mind getting wet, I have the gear for it. But, the bike and chain get full of dirt and sand, and my clothes show up with wet spots sometimes. It’s kind of like Mother Nature said, "Ya wanna ride yer bike to work? How about three inches of rain in a 30 – mph wind, biatch? You like that? ‘Cause I got more."

Classic California. Three months ago it was so dry everything was on fire. Now we’re washing away.

What we need is some of that nice, stable, Midwestern weather.

He Ain't a Fan

The latest cover story for that movie thing Pete writes for is less than complimentary of Star Trek type people. And that's OK. I don't speak Klingon, anyway. It's still pretty funny.

Regarding that bit about homoerotic fan fiction, these are more along the lines of homoerotic synopses of TOS (The Original Series) episodes. Worth reading even if you can't sit through an episode of the show itself.

And, oh yeah, while I'm on the 'stuff on TV' theme, go rent Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle this second. Or top your Netflix list with it. I've only gotten to see the first fifteen minutes so far, but it looks like the second coming of Fast Times at Ridgemont High to me.

A Public Service From Us Here at the Paste

OK, your boss will love this. A Seeeeerious time waster.

Step 1. Open Google.

2. Paste the following string into the box:

inurl:"view/index.shtml"

3. The links that come up go to various live webcams.

As somebody already has asked, "Well, where are the good ones?"

Sigh. It might take a while for you to find a good toilet cam, but in the meantime you can check out Main Street at Devil's Lake, North Dakota, or the view from campus at Michigan Tech.

You won't always know what you're seeing unless you use this little Windows trickery brought to you by the loveable geeks here at Paste Bomb (ok, just me, whatever).

Go to Start, select 'Run'.

In the 'Run' box, type 'cmd'. (You can leave out the quotation marks. I used to be in tech support, so I'm telling you that now, because I know damn well you'll type them. Don't lie.)

Click 'OK'.

A black box will appear, with some lettering like this:

C:\>

This is what, back in Scott's day, they called a 'dos prompt'.

Type (without quotations): 'tracert xxx.xxx.xxx.xxx'

press 'Enter'.

in place of the x's and dots, you will put in the numbers and dots that will be in the address field of your browser, or the IP address of the camera, if you're a geek (in which case you already quit reading, because you know what Trace Route is).

The box will then display the name of every 'hop' between you and the camera you are seeing through. Usually these names will give you a pretty good idea where you are.

It doesn't always work, so if you recognize what and where this is, could you drop a comment? Thanks.

Fade In

I work in I.T., but our group is more like a construction crew.

Here’s a little sketch from this morning’s coffee-drinking-before-actual-work session. Three guys, one has a bottle of water on his desk.

"Do you think that water really comes from New Zealand?"
"No, it’s from your mom’s tap."
"It’s just an excuse to charge more."
"That Fiji water is really good, it tastes actually sweet, you know."
"You know where that sweetness comes from."
Laughter
"Yeah, them Fijians eat a lot of coconut."
More Laughter
"And pineapple."
Rolling on the Floor Laughter

Fade Out.

For Mah Baby

We’ve gone on a bit of an Ebay spree at Casa Paste lately.

My wife is a huge fan of the book series featuring ‘Madeline’, a character I’d never heard of before we’d met.

Through the miracle of the above mentioned auction place, we’ve acquired some Madeline items for our daughter to enjoy as she grows. Some of this stuff apparently is rare. My wife would know.

For the past few days, we’d been eyeing an original artwork by the author. It grabbed my wife’s heart, and even passed my jaded critical eye in terms of authenticity.

This morning, things came down to it. The bidding war had started. I checked out the buying history of those we were up against. A couple of our competitors were serious collectors. One of them even struck me as a liiiiiiitle strange. An image of some recluse sitting in the basement surrounded by his ‘little girl’ treasures sprang to mind. I’ll spare you what I saw him doing there.

Anyway. We won the item. With no small amount of soul searching on the part of yours truly. This thing went high. But, should the apple of our eye actually develop something of a love for ‘Madeline’, this might become a prize possession. Not to mention the fact that she can hear the story of how her folks really couldn’t afford this kind of thing, but they loved her so much they were willing to sacrifice to get it for her…. you know the spiel.

Now. On to the sacrifice. The love for my little girl is so powerful, I was willing to make (for me) the ultimate: my poker winnings.

This is huge. In the past, things had gotten so tight that I drained the bankroll at the grocery and so on. Later, I’d put together fifty bucks to send to PokerStars, that through hard grinding I’d run into some hundreds. A quarter, fifty cents per bet. GRINDING, yo. This is now on its way back to me, to be sent to the Ebay seller. Sacrifice, baby. It means so much more when you part with something dear.

‘Cause I was about to move up to a dollar a bet.

That's Why They Named It

Seems kind of cold that tourists are back lounging on the beach in Thailand where the tsunamis killed so many.

I'm just glad they're Swedes. Let the world see there are others that are shallow, callous, and plain don't give a damn about anybody else.

Then again, hey, they did name the place 'Phuket'.