Thursday, April 30, 2009

C:\Temp

I really have nothing much to talk about today, but I need to move that last post down the page a bit so its not smacking me in the face every time I come here, so I figured I’d recount a story from my not too distant past.

Keep in mind before you read this, I work as an I.T. professional, as do the rest of the people I work with. The point I’m trying to make before you read the story below is that EVERYONE I WORK WITH IS SUPPOSED TO BE COMPUTER LITERATE!

With that in mind, the following conversation took place on the phone between myself and one of my supposedly-computer-literate coworkers. The names have NOT been changed to protect ANYONE… Screw HER!

Me: Helen, I’m gonna need those files from you so we can run our extraction programs.

Helen: No problem. The files are out on the network.

Me: Great! Where?

Helen: Where what?

Me: WHERE on the network did you put the files so I can grab them?

Helen: Oh, sorry. I put them in the TEMP directory.

Me: Are you sure? I don’t see a TEMP directory on any of the network drives.

Helen: Well, its right there. I’m looking at it right now.

Me: Well, what is the full directory path?

Helen: You lost me.

Me: I mean, tell me the drive letter and full directory path where the file is. You know, like F:\\inventory or something.

Helen: Oh ok, 1 sec……….. OK, the file is on C:\temp.

Me: Ok, but where is it on the network?

Helen: I just told you… C:\temp.

Me: Helen, the C drive is your local drive, NOT a network drive.

Helen: You lost me again.

Me: Are you kidding me? Helen, files on your C Drive are just sitting on your own computer, right there in your cubicle. You need to move the files to the network so I can grab them.

Helen: No I don’t. You should be able to see them.

Me: Helen, I CAN’T see your C: Drive.

Helen: Sure you can…. I see it here on MY computer.

Me: Are you fucking with me?

Helen: No, I’m not fucking with you. What’s your problem?

Me: My problem is that someone who works with computers all day should KNOW THAT I CAN’T MAGICALLY SEE FILES THAT YOU HAVE ON YOUR C DRIVE!!!

Helen: I don’t see why not.

Me: You don’t see why not? That AMAZES me! Do you also use the CD drive as a cup holder?

Helen: You’re an asshole.

Me: Yes, I guess I am. And you’re a genius.

And thus ended my friendship with Helen.

This might have been a much sadder story if I had wanted to SLEEP with Helen, but she honestly wasn’t THAT attractive, so in the end I guess this had a happy ending after all.

p.s. If Helen had looked like the girl in the photo above, I would have happily agreed that the files WERE right there on the network, and thanked her handily for all her help, to boot! I would have sung Helen a damn sonnet about how great those files looked. Yes, indeedy.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Aimless Saturdays

My grandfather has been gone for 6 months.

There are days when I still can’t believe that he’s not here. He was such an incredibly huge part of my life, that whenever something of note happens to me, my first thought STILL is “I’ve gotta tell him about this!”

But I can’t anymore.

I’ve had days where I’m OK with that, and I’ve had some days where I am the furthest damn thing from OK with it, but overall, I’d say that the healing process is starting to do its thing quite nicely, thank you very much.

There IS, however, one part of this whole ordeal which I just can’t get my head around yet…..

…. What to do with my Saturdays.

My grandfather and I lived together until I was 28 or so. I knew that moving out would be hard on him, since I was pretty much the only person in the house who would spend time with him doing the kind of things he liked to do….going fishing, taking a boat ride, driving around looking for deals at garage sales, that kind of thing.

After I moved out, I made it a point to still spend my Saturdays with him. For the last 10 years now, I’ve spent virtually every one of my Saturdays with him. It had become ingrained in me as part of my life’s routine.

On Saturday, spending the day with him was WHAT I did.

And now that’s gone.

The weekends since have been very strange. I wake up on Saturday morning, and I quickly start getting ready. It usually takes me about 5 minutes before I realize that I don’t have anything to rush for anymore. Then I sit back, take a deep breath, and try to figure out what the Hell I am going to do with myself on this new-found extra day of the week.

It’s a very bizarre feeling. For sure, I’ve been trying to put my Saturdays to good use. I’ve been doing a lot with Mini-Me, and just generally trying to enjoy myself, but it’s been hard. I feel like I’m having fun at his expense…. That somewhere, he’s sitting alone, waiting for me to show up to take him for his haircut or to get his groceries.

But of course, that’s bullshit.

So, I guess I’ll just have to live with my weird Saturday vibe, until something clicks inside of me to make what I do NOW with my Saturdays, seem “normal”. It just seems like whatever is inside me that’s broken isn’t fixing itself fast enough. I wish it would hurry the fuck up already.

I’ve been considering volunteering at the local nursing home where I’d take my grandfather for short stays if I went on vacation, but I honestly don’t know if I could handle getting close to another senior citizen only to watch them deteriorate and ultimately lose them again. We shall see.

Anyway, I found this pic on my camera the other day. I had forgotten I had it. I must have snapped it this past Summer. It’s the last picture I ever took of him, and It’s one of the few pictures I have of him with Mini-Me. I wish I had taken more shots like this, maybe one with me in it as well.

Even with something as effortless as taking a photo, I always figured I’d have more time.

Friday, April 24, 2009

The Clock Isnt Moving

Because I am SUPER bored at work today, I figured if I wrote a blog post, it would kill some time.

Ok, how much time have I killed so far?

Shit! That was only like 15 seconds…. I’ve still got about 4 hours to go before I can get my sexy ass home. I guess I’ll have to write some more.

OK, here’s something I was thinking about today:

Brand Name Assimilation.

Actually, I just made that name up. I’m not sure what you really call it, but that name sounds as good as any. I’m good at coming up with Bullshit names for things that make them sound all official. I do it all day at work in the memo’s I write. Sometimes I think that if I don’t use the word “synergy” in at least 2 fucking memos a day, I’ll get fired. I’m afraid to test that theory.

What was I talking about again? Oh yeah… brand name assimilation.

What does that mean? It’s the name I came up with to explain when a particular consumer product becomes SO popular, that the brand name of the product becomes synonymous with the product itself.

Specifically, I was trying to come up with a list of all the products that I knew where a particular company’s brand name has replaced the actual name of the product in the general lexicon.

For instance, when I fall down and get a boo-boo and cry for my mommy, she runs over, kisses the ouchie and puts WHAT on my scraped knee?

A Bandaid. (At least here in the States it’s a bandaid… I’m not sure what you crazy people from far-off lands might call it. Probably something silly like a Walkabout or a Wanker).

But the thing is, it’s NOT a bandaid. Not really. My mommy put a “bandage” on my knee. “BandAid” is just the name of a BRAND of bandages, but they have become so popular and commonplace, that most people now call ALL Bandages, “Bandaids”.

So, I got to thinking, “Hey, this is killing valuable work time! What other products can I come up with that have reached this seeming pinnacle of brand name recognition?”

Here’s My list:

BandAids
Scotch Tape
Kleenex

Then I drew a blank and figured I’d see if you guys could come up with any more.

So, how about it?

I TOLD you I was bored today.


P.S. I see that I’ve only gotten 1 message so far on my spiffy new voice recorder.

In a private email, someone was concerned how much it cost to leave a message.

In case anyone was concerned, it’s a normal domestic long distance local call, and if your cell phone company is like mine, there is no charge for domestic long distance calls.

When you click to record, they will give you a number based on where you are calling from, and they currently have numbers that cater to Australia, Brazil, Canada, France, Germany, Ireland, Italy, Japan, Mexico, Netherlands, New Zealand, Spain, Sweden, UK, and the USA, so you should all be good and covered. There is also apparently a way to leave a message by just microphone, but I haven’t been able to figure that out yet. As soon as I do, I’ll add it.

See how I take care of you people?

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Now With Sound!


Well, now I've gone and done it. I've managed to get myself oh so much closer to you all.

We all can agree that i'm the hottest piece of ass on the planet, thats a given.

But modern technology had never advanced far enough to be able to actually capture my beautiful sing-song voice on tape.

Until now.

That right, my peeps. All you have to do is click on the that little button on the right over yonder, and you can hear me speak to your heart's content in my very un-Long-Island-ly accent.

But that's not all. You guys can now leave me a message whenever you like. Just click the "Record By Phone" button, and you will get a temporary phone number and id to leave me a message.

You can say whatever's on your mind.... How great i am, How much you want me, what you would do to me if I were with you right now, etc. You know, the kind of stuff i hear day in and out.

Anyway, give it a shot and let me hear what you all sound like. I think this thing is a hoot. It's gonna be fun.

P.S. Mucho props to Dr. Zibbs who gave me the idea to give this a shot. He's a swell dude. Some may say he's almost as awesome as I am. No they woudlnt.

Monday, April 20, 2009

That’s a Mighty Big Beaver You’ve Got There!

The following is an actual conversation with my mother on Friday when we met at a local pizzeria for lunch:

- Looking at the bottom of the cap of my Snapple bottle while we are eating -
Me: “Hey, there’s a bit of history trivia written on the bottom of this cap.”

Mom: “What does it say?”

Me: “It says, ‘Beavers used to be as large as a bear.’”

Mom: “Really?”

Me: “That’s what it says.”

Mom: “Wow, I wonder when THAT was?”

Me: “Probably in the 1960’s…”

Mom: “Why would you say something so stupid as there were giant beavers in the 1960s?”

Me: “Because you asked a stupid question! When the Hell do you THINK we had giant beavers??? It had to be during prehistoric times, obviously!”

Mom: “Not necessarily.”

Me: “Not necessarily? Have you ever SEEN a monster beaver?”

Mom: “No, I haven’t.”

Me: “How about Grandma? Do you think she ever spied one?”

Mom: “I’m pretty sure she didn’t, either.”

Me: “Now, how far back in our lineage do you want me to go with this, before you see what i'm driving at?”

Mom: “…………..”

Mom: “Lucky me, I raised an asshole.”


Happy early Mother’s day, mom!

Thursday, April 16, 2009

So, Who’s The Killer?

You all watched Harpers Island last week like I told you all to, right?

First off, a little about the first episode:

I have to admit, I was “under” impressed, but I didn’t think it was bad enough to not give this show a fair shake. I am so murder-mystery-starved right now, I’d give just about ANYTHING that can get my sleuthing juices going a chance.

But, they have GOT to have the murders make a tad more sense. First, they off Cousin Ben, some poor schlub who gets to die by being tied to the propeller of a boat, so when the boat starts up, he’s minced and pureed. Ok, I can get behind that, but why the Hell did the killer give him an oxygen tank so he could breathe down there? Lame.

Likewise, the death of my favorite character, Harry Hamlin, was just as bizarre. Poor Harry is walking across a bridge, when the bridge breaks and he falls through the hole, with his top half hanging on while his legs dangle underneath.

At least, his legs WERE dangling there for a minute or two, until the killer, who happens to be hiding under the bridge, slices his legs off. So let me get this straight…. the killer rigged the bridge to break, and then just hoped that Harry would walk on it, fall through, so he could kill him?

MAYBE I can at least make sense of this one, though. Harry had a gun on him, and it appeared he was going to meet someone, so MAYBE the bridge was the only way to the meeting, and the killer knew that. I’ll give that death a pass.

Anyway, it’s impossible to really put a good guess as to who the killer is yet, but I’m going to go out on a Week 1 limb and say that it’s the main chick’s ex-boyfriend (the dude who works on the docks).

They are making it painfully obvious that the killer is somehow linked to the previous deaths on the island, and also to our main character, and Mr Fish-Dude is one of the few people who seems to be tied in some way to both of them.

So, that’s my week 1 pick. What did ya’ll think?

Remember: don’t forget to watch tonight!

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

The Easter Bunny Is Evil

Hey you guys! Did you all have a fantabulous Easter? I hope so.

Mine was good. We got off to a bit of a rocky start though.

We always put together an Easter basket, filled with jellybeans, chocolates, and all sorts of sugary crap, and put it out on Easter morning so Mini-Me can wake up and find what the Easter Bunny left him.

We ALSO get a few dozen plastic Easter eggs, fill them with candy and some change, and hide them throughout the house. That Easter bunny sure is a busy rabbit!

Anyway, it was Saturday night, and I tip-toed downstairs to put the basket together, only to find that Friz decided it would be a swell idea to hide all of the Easter goodies in our mud room, ON TOP OF OUR DRYER!

Hey kids, ever wanted to know what a 2 foot chocolate rabbit looks like after it’s been sitting on a hot dryer for 3 days?

The box APPEARED to be empty. That is, until you peered down through the cellophane on the front to see a puddle of brown goo nestled snugly on the bottom. The rabbit’s two little sugar-dot eyes looked up from the middle of the puddle, accusingly.

To me, those eyes looked like they were telling me “Nice going, asshole! I look like a pile of shit with eyes….. Happy Easter!”

Being midnight, there was no way to get a replacement, so I figured a melted bunny was better than NO bunny, and stuffed it in the basket.

I was so pissed that I went to bed forgetting to hide the eggs.

So, bright and early Sunday Morning, my son wakes me up take him downstairs to see what the Easter bunny left him.

I can’t really describe his face when we saw that the Easter bunny apparently took a dump in his basket. It wasn’t disappointment. It was just…. confusion.

Anyway, he put down the basket, and began to run around the house. It took me a minute to remember what the Hell he was looking for.

That’s when I realized that I forgot to hide the damn eggs.

From the other room, I could hear him starting to get upset that he wasn’t finding any eggs. Being the quick-thinking genius that I am, I grabbed the bag of eggs and began running around the room throwing them anywhere I could reach.

When my son came back into the room, he immediately spied one of the eggs I had just hidden.

“Hey! I just looked here, and there was NO egg here a minute ago!”

I was pretty sure I was busted, and was about to just come clean, when he looked at me and said….

“Daddy! The Easter Bunny must STILL BE IN THE HOUSE!! Let’s go find him!”

He had such a look of joy on his little face, as he raced around the house thinking he was hot on the Easter bunny’s trail.

It filled my heart with joy as the fact that, even at 6 years old, he is still so innocent to believe that a magical bunny rabbit was hiding in our house, over even the POSSIBILITY that his dad might be pulling one over on him.

That pretty much made this one of the best Easter’s ever….

…even if the Easter Bunny WAS apparently revealed to be a tad lactose intolerant.

Thursday, April 09, 2009

Slow News Day


You know i have nothing good to talk about when i resort to just posting my emails.

Next week, prepare to be dazzled as i unveil my grocery list. Will I get the jumbo-sized Spam or will i settle for the economy-size? Tune in next week for the exciting answer!

Anyway, here is a random conversation I had yesterday through email with my insignificant other, Earl.

Earl: Hey, was the woman you spoke about in your last post with the nice rack that you stared at Cathy St. George? If so, you always DID like older hot women. P.S. I think you are sexy (ok, i added that last part).

Me: Yes it was… I have no clue what the fuck movie she was ever in, but I was standing there and saw her sitting at a booth and no one was talking to her, so i started chatting with her about the time I noticed she had big hoo-ha's.

Earl: Dude, she was in Playboy. Back in 1982!!!

Me: Her cans have stood up well…

Earl: She's 55!

Me: That's almost 28 years per boob. Anyway, she was there as a A-list guest....she HAD to have done something besides playboy 25 years ago!

Earl: She has had bit parts in movies over the years, but she was probably there because she was the inspiration for the cover art for Red Sonja #33. Seriously. It's on the ICON site.

By the way, that is the lamest group of "stars" I have ever seen. WTF was Sean Astin thinking? And when you said one of the Mythbusters, I assumed it meant one of the two main guys. Not one of the background dudes. And he is listed second among the celebrities! Ha!

Me: I had no clue WHO the fuck the mythbuster guy was.. I don’t watch that show. Was he the guy who had that picture going around the internet a few months back where he was doing naughty things with a dildo?

The best part of ICON was that Sean Astin had to share his lecture with the guy who played Sauron. That guy was in .....what? Like 10 seconds of the first film? I wanted to raise my hand to ask him what his fucking motivation was when he stood there for a nanosecond..


...and on and on .... We have discussions like this pretty much every day. If we hired 2 more guys to hang out with us, we could be the man-equivilent of Sex & The City (of course i'd be Samantha).


Anyway, all i really wanted to do today was to remind all you fine folks to watch HARPERS ISLAND tonight, because i plan on talking about it next week, and if no one watched it then no one will know what i'm talking about.

Whenever someone talks about something that no one knows about, people assume they are insane. And i don't want that.

Or do i? MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!

Tuesday, April 07, 2009

Phasers, Redux


You wanna know the BEST part about having your blog up and running for over 4 years?

No, it’s not the great people you meet, or the cherished experiences.

It’s the fact that, when you are feeling exceptionally lazy, you can just steal from yourself and reprint an old post.

At least this reprint is relevant, and not just a random missive that im dropping on ya.

This weekend I attended ICON, which for all you people not nearly as cool as myself, is Long Island’s premier science fiction convention. Klingons and Jedi from all over the island converged under 1 roof for one magical weekend.

This year, I got to meet and speak with Callie From Battlestar Galactica, and a seemingly drunk Major West from Lost in Space. I also got to see Samwise from Lord of the Rings, and some chick with Big Tits that apparently was in “something”, but regrettably our conversation never managed to lurch past the fact that I was just staring at her nipples for 10 minutes.

Anyway, I’ve been attending ICON off and on for about 15 years now, and every time I go, I am once again reminded of the time when I got to check out Mr. Sulu’s penis.

So sit back, relax, and enjoy as I once again recount my tale of weenie watching.

(Yes, ive reprinted this one time already. I don’t care. It makes me laugh. Bite me.)


Set Phasers To "Faaaaa-bulous!"


Originally Posted 11/21/2005


As some of you have probably heard by now, George Takei, the Asian contingent of the crew of the original Star Trek TV show, better known as “Mr. Sulu” by the masses, has finally come out of the closet, and admitted to being a homosexual.

Now, to anyone who is ANY kind of trekkie, this revelation is not the earth shattering expose that some of the tabloids in the past week have made it out to be. I mean, was there ANYONE out there who didn’t realize Sulu was gay? The man displayed so many stereotypically gay personality traits that I don’t think it would be insulting to say that this revelation didn’t come as much of a surprise to anyone. Who’s the next big celebrity that will shock us by coming out of the closet...... Richard Simmons? My God, the scandal!!!

But I digress. This blog entry really has nothing to do with George Takei’s sexual orientation. I say, more power to him. Live long and prosper and all that.

The sudden news attention surrounding Mr. Sulu got myself and B.E. Earl talking the other day, about an incident between myself and Mr. Takei about 15 years ago. Upon talking about the incident again, we thought our loyal Slyde-Bloggers would find this a pretty funny yarn.

Before I begin, I need to stress again that this took place about 15 years ago. I was probably about 22 or so. Believe me, I stake no claim now that I am anything close to mature, but if you knew me back then, you’d think I was Obi-Wan Kenobi now. Let’s just preface this little story by saying that, although I am not ashamed of my less-than-mature outlook on life, I’m not so proud of it that I plan to put it on my resume, either.

Anyway, the year was about 1993 or so, and Earl, myself, and a group of friends all decided to attend I-CON. I-CON, for all you non-geeky Long Islanders, is L.I.’s biggest yearly science fiction convention. Nerds from all over convene every April to buy sci-fi merchandise, watch sci-fi movies, listen to sci-fi guests, and find other ways of embarrassing themselves with their dorkiness. I fully admit to taking part in such endeavors in my youth from time to time…..

Anyway, at some point I needed use the restroom, so I found the “Little Tribbles” room and entered one of the stalls. While inside the stall, I heard some people enter, discussing what sounded like a movie script, when suddenly I heard that distinctive deep voice that all Trekkies know so well. There was no doubt in my mind that Mr. Sulu had just walked into the bathroom. Apparently, Mr. Takei was scheduled to be a guest speaker at the convention.

Amazed, I kept listening to their conversation. I heard the other people leave the restroom, and then I thought I heard Mr. Sulu walk up to one of the urinals against the far wall, taking care of nature.

A strange thought occurred to me: There was a person of some celebrity status, in a state of semi-nakedness, in my near vicinity. Of course I came to the obvious conclusion: This was a rare opportunity to see a movie star’s private parts!

Now, I have to stop the story at this point for a quick aside. I do NOT, in any shape of form, play on the same team as our esteemed Mr. Sulu. On the contrary, I have such a weakness for the fairer sex, that it has gotten me into more trouble in past years than I could care to admit.

But the fact remained, that less than 10 feet from me was a famous Willy. I had once heard a story of a person who was in a hotel in Detroit on a business trip, who walked down the hall one night to see David Lee Roth naked in an open hotel room. I remember it being a very funny story, and I decided I wanted a famous naked story for myself. So, off I went to get my own story….

I exited the stall, and quickly ran up to the urinal next to Mr. Takei. He glanced at me briefly, then went about his business.

It was at this time I stole a quick look at Mr. Sulu’s personal phaser.

I am not going to degrade the top-notch integrity and standards of SLYDESBLOG with any details (hey, if you want details, stalk him in a bathroom yourself!). But let’s just say, I got my look.

Afterwards, my friends and I all had a good laugh about it. We even decided to attend Mr. Takei’s lecture. The lecture hall was large, seating a few hundred people. Nerds and Klingons from all over the Long Island area were in that room at the time. People who base their lives on Star Trek and view Mr. Sulu as their own personal god. And here my friends and I sat, a couple of wise-asses having way too much fun with this whole scene.

To our credit, we actually managed to be good for most of the dissertation. At one point, George tells the crowd that he is in the process of writing his autobiography.

At that point, a pimply-faced kid holding a light-saber stood up and asked, “Could you tell us what the name of your book will be called?”

To which Mr. Takei responded: “I haven’t come up with a name for my book yet. What I am doing is looking over all the great pieces of memorabilia I have in my attic at my home. I dust off one of these pieces of memorabilia I have up there, then I write a story about it. I’ve been writing a whole chapter for every memento I find up there. And I have a BIG attic, so there will be a lot of stories. But I haven’t come up with a name for my autobiography yet.”

At this point, the 22 year old Me could no longer resist and yelled out, “Why don’t you call your book, “Big Attic, Small Penis”?

Well, my friends and I got a good laugh out of that one. At least until we looked up to find Mr. Sulu, as well as the army of Uber-Geeks around us, looking at me with faces aghast like I just flipped-off Queen Elizabeth.

Well, the faces on the crowd around us, as well as that of George Takei, got us laughing even harder. Cut to 2 minutes later when we got dragged out of the convention center by security.

Man that was a funny day.

Please note that this story has no real point, except to show how immature I can be, especially since, 15 years later now, I still think it’s funny as Hell.

Live Long and Prosper, George Takei.

Friday, April 03, 2009

I’m Famous!

After All, how many people can say that they had an article written about them in the New York Times?

The article will be running in this Sunday’s edition, but its available now to read online.

Anyone wanting autographs will have to wait until I do an official signing in a city near you. Autograph fees will be $100 per signature, unless you want me to sign your boobs, which I will selflessly do for free (weenies cost double).

When you think about it, this kind of exposure was way past due for me . It was only a matter of time before I went from local celebrity to WORLDWIDE phenomenon.

Sorry guys, I gotta go. I have Brad Pitt on the line begging me to be in his next film, and if I’m late for my date with Megan Fox, she gets upset (she’s so needy like that).

Wednesday, April 01, 2009

Taking a Grenade For You

I haven’t spoken about Movie Grenade in a while.

Movie Grenade is website that was started a few years ago by Badgerdaddy, Earl and myself. Its purpose was to review what we thought to be bad movies. REALLY bad movies. Movies that are so bad, watching them would detract from your general quality of life.

We watch these movies and warn you of their awfulness, in essence “jumping on the grenade” and sparing the rest of you.

It’s a selfless act, really.

I have been horribly lax in my movie-reviewing duties lately. That’s partly because I honestly haven’t seen too many grenade-worthy movies, but also partly because I’m a lazy bastard who’d rather play Grand Theft Auto in my underwear than write any more than I have to.

For a good deal of time now, Earl has been doing most of the heavy lifting on that site almost entirely on his own. We recently asked some of our groupies to join in on the fun over on MovieGrenade, and they have stepped up admirably. Some of those people that I’m speaking of skulk around on this very site. You know who you are.

Anyway, I’ve finally gotten off my lazy keister and posted a review to a truly shit movie that I watched last night..... 10,000 B.C.

Head on over there if you want to know what I thought about it.

(Happy Earl? I FINALLY got around to putting up another review. You can stop busting my balls now for a while.)