I Think You Mean Woodland Creatures

I had a dream this morning where a midget had some sort of attack, and the 911 dispatcher transferred me to a doctor who said that the term for a little person is a “woodland creature.” I was really confused in the dream, because I didn’t see how that was going to get paramedics to the scene any sooner.

Then I got up and made myself a huge breakfast with beef, beans, rice, baby spinach, eggs, cheese, and a tortilla. It almost made up for the sleep that I had missed.

Tomorrow I make a whole new Internets for the Whole Music Club. Hooray.

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Zach missed an angry phone call or two to Qwest today over the shadiness of my DSL. The first guy said that he was going to have something fixed and put me on hold. Then I got cut off. I called back and the second guy said that everything looked fine to him. I came home and the internet was still all screwed up. To make matters worse I couldn’t even connect from my desktop to the server in the same room. Frustration ensued as I fruitlessly delved into system logs on my linux box. It was getting bad packets some how. I put in the ethernet card from my other server, and the bad packet messages stopped, but the connection was still hosed up.

Then I remembered that I had plugged the wrong power supply into the switch. I took a chance on a new switch from Best Buy, and it was like dynamiting a dam. Holy crap the entire internet poured into the apartment in seconds. Amazing.

That’s all.

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San Francisco

Cake Woman is in San Francisco starting fights and raising a ruckus, so I have the apartment to myself. I’ve been running around in the nude with all the lights in the house on because for a brief few days, I can. Okay, before Cake Woman kicks my ass I should come clean — earlier I had all the lights on in the kitchen while I was doing the dishes. Really the only thing that I did that she will get upset about is that I drank one of the Viking beers in the fridge. It’s dark and chocolatey. Mmm mmm good. Actually, I bought that beer for her in a fit on generosity the other day. I don’t know what I was thinking. I must like her or something.

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I Am A Moron

I think that this post is self-explanatory.

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Internets In The Plural

When I unplugged the DSL modem (router? whatchamajigger?) after work today, Lisa went into immediate shock. She was pale and clammy until Stan and I rubbed ethernet cables on her wrists for a while.

“Where am I? Where is the internets?” she stammered.
“I’m taking them to Anoka,” I answered grimly.
“Jail?” asked Noah. He always confuses Anoka with jail. Make of that what you wish.

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Would Somebody Check My Math, Please?

I was doing a little research because I’m a big nerd and I found some interesting stats for nationwide bus-based transit.

Diesel Fuel Consumed (gallons)
Other Fuel Consumed (gallons)
Total Fuel Consumption (gallons)
Miles, Passenger
Passenger Miles Per Gallon
Miles, Vehicle Total
Total Bus Miles Per Gallon

Oh, I left out the electric stuff. Hmm. The amount of energy involved is four or five orders of magnitude less, so the final number comes out the same.

Electricity Consumed (kwh)
1 kilowatt-hour
3414 BTUs
1 gallon diesel
139,200 BTU
Equivalent diesel (gallons)
Total Fuel Consumption (gallons)
Passenger Miles Per Gallon

Of course, these numbers can only be improved by hybrids and increased ridership. It would be interesting to see these numbers for smaller samples — how does a really busy line compare? If the 16 is full all day long, what is the mileage per passenger?

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To Paraphrase

To me cycling is a pleasurable activity that I do of my own free will, while driving a car is an uncomfortable activity I have to do in order to meet other people’s requirements. — Ken Kifer

To me cycling is a uncomfortable activity that I do of my own free will, while driving a car is a pleasurable activity I do in order to meet other people’s requirements. Unfortunately, that pleasurable activity is destroying our planet, so, uh, well, to really give my opinion would require pages and pages, and a ton of research, which I don’t have time for.

Never mind.

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What Do People Search For On Google?

This link clearly explains it:
porn    not porn   
porn versus not porn

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Better Than a Stick In The Eye

What’s worse than being 12 years out of high school and on your way to having $40,000 in debt?
Being 30 years old, with no college degree, making $15 an hour.

Jesus, Star Tribune, thanks for making me sound like a fucking loser.

That’s why Jesse Mullan has taken a risk and gone back to college, sitting in classrooms with college juniors who were 8 years old when he graduated from St. Paul Central High in 1994.

Of course they leave out I live with a smokin’ hot girlfriend who was 12 or so when I “graduated high school” in 1994. Hellz yes. I suppose that they also leave out that I am halfway dead — I mean done. With classes. Assuming that I don’t go to grad school. In any case, last semester two of my classes were with juniors and two were with old timey grad student folks. They had curly moustaches and everything.

This was all a lot more hilarious in my head last night as I was lying in bed thinking about calling the photographer a half-blind monkey and the reporter a talentless hack, but those comments would be just plain mean, and I’m not a mean person. I was just having trouble sleeping after having spent half the weekend drifting in and out of hallucinatory unconsciousness.

Okay, that was Thursday and Friday only, but it was worth mentioning.

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Blue Car


Grrr, she’s mean.

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