Red Monkey

May 1, 2008

The Island Who Lost Its Name

It's true, Virginia, there really IS a Lesbos.

Seriously. It's a Greek island just off the coast of Turkey, near Ayvalik (which was a Turkish city filled with Greeks until about 1922). Today, it's often referred to as Mytilini - which is actually just the name of the island's capital.

And, they want their name back. They do not wish to be residents of the isle of Mytilini (which sounds vaguely Italian anyway), they want to be ...

Lesbians.

Wait, wait, wait. That came out wrong. ACK! Not "came out" like "came out of the closet" ... I mean, it didn't sound ...

Oh bollox.

It's simple. Waaaaaay back in the 7th century B.C., there was a woman named Sappho. She wrote poetry. Love poetry. Sappho lived on the Greek island of Lesbos. She wrote love poetry to women. Hence, Sappho was a Lesbian lesbian. Or was she a Mytilinian lesbian? Maybe she was bi, we just don't know. At any rate, somewhere along the line, instead of being accurate and calling women who write love poetry to other women Sapphians, which would have been more accurate, they called them lesbians. And then, of course, they attached the word to females who were attracted to other females, instead of being more precise and only referring to women who wrote poetry to women as Sa - I mean lesbians.

So it's quite obvious that the entire process of naming women who happen to be homosexual as lesbians has been very much botched from the beginning. Or at least since the 7th century B.C. Or, to be more precise, B.C.E. (before the common era).

At any rate, the people of the island sometimes called Lesbos and sometimes called Mytilini would actually like to be called Lesbians now. Never mind that there are plenty of people who would prefer to NOT be called a lesbian, these people would like their name back.

It's been badly misused by the media in the United States. All throughout the 1980s, any news story involving Sharon Gless using began in this way: A crazed lesbian broke into Gless' home or perhaps Gless has taken out a restraining order on the crazed lesbian who broke into.

And anyway, why bother to divide the gay community into "gay men" and "lesbians" anyway? Shouldn't the gay community try to band together and show their numbers instead of subdividing into minute special-interest groups? What if the civil rights movement of the '50s and '60s had subdivided into Africans, half blacks, quadroons, Baptists, Catholics, etc, etc, etc?

I say, let the island of Lesbos have their name back. I don't want it, anyway.

Now, if the Dutch start demanding "dyke" back, we're gonna have problems ...

You can read the BBC article here.

Posted by Red Monkey at 8:46 AM | Comments (9) | Never Underestimate the Power of Human Stupidity | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

April 25, 2008

Withdrawals

3:05 PM
Inexplicably, nothing will load in Firefox. As the machine hasn't been restarted in a while and is bogging down, I decide to restart. All lights green on the router.

3:10 PM
Machine restarted. Now nothing on the internet works. N O T H I N G.
Everything still green on the router.

3:15 PM
Begin running the diagnostic on the router. "No internet connection can be obtained." Really, Sherlock? Thanks for that bit of stunning information. Dammit.
Oh, and now the router thinks there might be a problem. Middle light is now orange. Little behind the times, there, hoss.

3:16 PM
Now the router thinks my login/pwd might be wrong. WTF?

3:17 PM
Now it's back to can't find an ATM circuit and cannot obtain an internet address. Hit the Diagostic Test one more time and pick up Hampton Sides' Blood and Thunder. I'm down to the last 100 pages and the part I was most dreading to read about: the Navajo Long Walk.

3:20 PM
Peek up from book. Light still orange. Diagnostics still refreshing approximately every 60 to 90 seconds. Sometimes it's "login/pwd wrong," sometimes it's "can't obtain internet address." Attempt to plant book in front of face so I can't see the computer screen.

3:30 PM
Internet still down. Meh.

3:40 PM
See, when I was little, I read a biography of Kit Carson and I wound up thinking he was the coolest guy in the world, a real advocate for the native Americans. Of course, it was a fairy tale, legend-based biography which in many respects only had a passing glance with truth. But I didn't know that at the time. I thought he was cool.

I also absolutely adored the Navajo. I'd announced when I was three that I wanted to grow up to be an Indian, and it was the Navajo tribe that had fascinated me from that day on.

This biography, Blood and Thunder, is wonderful. Not only does it give a nice, academic look at Carson, it also tells the story in a readable way. (The book's selected bibliography is 17 pages long!) And it does more than just talk about Carson - Sides makes sure to give all of the surrounding context of Carson's life, including constant overviews of the Navajo life at that time. Of course, this is all building up to Carson's worst mistake ever - his scorched earth campaign against the Navajo.

These last 100 pages are simply difficult for me to stay focused on at the best of times. Two of my favourite Old West entities clashing. I hate it.

4:10 PM
Other half comes home. The house is no longer peacefully quiet, but absolutely drenched in words. Talking to me, to the dogs, to the cats, to me, to the dogs. I can't tell anymore when to listen and when not to. My processing filter is broken. After trying to read one sentence at least a half dozen times, thinking she's done talking to me, only to find out she's still in the middle of some story ... I put the book down finally.

Damn internet is still down.

4:11 PM
Get a word in edgewise: The internet is down.
Response? Oh.
And then she picks up her computer. Pushes buttons. "How long has the internet been down?"
(Okay, so I'm exaggerating a bit here. That's what it felt like, though!)

"About an hour." Luckily for her, she had a story already loaded in her browser and could sit there and read it. Since I restarted my computer, I had nothing. Besides, most of my online work is dynamic. And I couldn't concentrate on the website design I was doing - I rely a lot on being able to upload and check the code against four different browsers on two computing platforms. If I can't do that cross-checking, I get very out of sorts very quickly.

4:30 PM
Begin obsessing again over restarting the router and performing diagnostics. I know at this point that it's AT&T's fault. I know at this point it's not going to come back just because I restart the router. I know constantly running the diagnostic is not going to magically fix things.

I keep doing these things anyway.

Stupid Kit Carson and his overblown sense of "my country needs me and even if I don't agree, it's my duty to do what the Army general says I should do." He knew he shouldn't take on the Navajos. He knew it was wrong to round them up this way. He knew they weren't going to fare well at Bosque Redondo.

Stupid AT&T DSL.

Meh.

5:00 PM
We take a nap to prepare for choir night. Internet still out. The other half has to wake up at 3:30 AM in order to get to work by 5 AM. Generally, we go to bed between 8 and 9 PM in order to get a full night's sleep. Since she suffers from severe, debilitating migraines, we have to be very certain that she gets enough sleep and follows a regular sleep pattern. Thursday nights, though, choir starts at 7:30 and usually runs until at least 9, which means we're often up until 10 or 11 PM. In order to make up for this, we try to take an hour or two nap Thursday before choir.

6:10 PM
Feel like I could have slept another couple of hours at least.

Damn internet is STILL OUT!

Reboot the router. Meh. Damn AT&T anyway.

Boy oh boy. Scorched earth. Carson either took any stock animals for his army or he killed them and left them to rot or burned them. He fed his army's animals on the fields of the Navajo and then burned whatever was left over. The Diné (the name the Navajo use for themselves) were starving to death and sure that it was not just a war against them, but an extermination of their entire people. His last act before leaving Canyon de Chelly was to chop down the peach tree grove of which the Navajo were so proud. Talk about insult to injury.

When Kit did something, he did it thoroughly. I am still disgusted.

6:15 PM
Restart the router again. Meh. Fix a cheese sandwich with some Cholula on it for dinner.

Turns out Bosque Redondo was far outside the Dinétah (Navajo lands) and the people did not fare well there. Carson didn't even lead them on the Long Walk. Somehow, that seems kind of insulting to me. All this work to subjugate them ... and then I wonder if it felt like he didn't even think enough of them to walk them to their new reservation himself. That doesn't appear to be his reasoning, but still ... I think that's what I would have felt like.

The first year, the Navajo threw themselves into farming the land. The corn crop looked great and General Carleton (who was the one who ordered Carson to subjugate the Navajo and make sure they got to the bosque) Carleton thought he had a great thing going. His benevolent plan was working.

Cutworms got the corn.

6:45 PM
Reset the router again. Why do I keep doing this? I know it's not the router, it's the service from AT&T.

Unsurprisingly, things do not get better at the reservation. The Mescalero Apaches who had been brought to Bosque Redondo before the Navajo eventually slip away one night. The Navajo try to farm the land for three years and with the coming of the fourth year, they give up. Cutworms two years in a row and a hailstorm the third year. All they can think about is how they had always been told not to leave the Dinetah or their medicine would no longer work and they would wither and die. It certainly seems to be true after three failed years. Why should they continue to fight it? They lost their wealth, their lands, their gods.

Meanwhile, Carson is mostly retired. At least, he keeps trying to retire, although he allows the bleat of "duty" to call him back at least once. Seems he's developed an aneurysm on his aorta. It's a slow leak, leaking into a "balloon" in his chest. The thing could pop at any time and he'll die. There's nothing to be done for him. His wife, Josefa, has given birth to their seventh? eighth? child. She suffers some complications from the birth, but perks up ... only to suddenly die. Carson follows her in death within a month.

And the Diné, after an army investigation into the Bosque Redondo experiment, are allowed to return home. Their traditional lands have been made much, much smaller, but it is in the Dinétah. They are going home at last.

7:00 PM
Still no fricking internet.

9:30 PM
Back from choir. Still with the damned center orange light on the router. Seriously, WTF? I mean, I finished my book, dammit, I was virtuous. NOW WHERE IS MY INTERNET????

Meh. Damn AT&T.

We watch the Unbeatable Banzuke that recorded last night, plus the new Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends.

Still with the orange light. A handful of games of solitaire. Meh. Boring. I pull out Jerrold E. Levy's In the Beginning and begin preparing for bed.

This is a more academic treatment of the Navajo creation and origin stories. It's fascinating to me, but it's the kind of book that I read very very very v e r y slowly. I'm soon ready for bed.

The orange light mocks me as I fall asleep.

3:30 AM
Rob Zombie's "Dragula" pierces my dreams and I'm up.

THREE GREEN LIGHTS!!!!

I'm back, baby, B A C K, back!

Now, please. Don't ever go out again, okay? Please? It was horrible without you, baby. Horrible. I swear I'll not cheat on you with my phone ever ever ever again. (Wait, I never do internet with my phone. I don't even text with it.)

Well, the important thing is, I'm connected again.

Posted by Red Monkey at 3:54 AM | Comments (3) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

April 3, 2008

SUCH a Geek

Alternate title: I SOOOOO need a job.

I hang out at BlogCatalog far too much. It's my primary form of entertainment on days when the other half is home with a migraine and I have to be quiet. Of course, that backfires sometimes when people like Ekim get to thinking they're funny. As punishment, and because I was boreded and wanted a non-productive project on which to work, I give you ...

Ekim-Diego. Go Ekim Go!

For those of you curious as to how you can do such a thing as insert a photo of someone into a cartoon character, this time I also wrote a tutorial of sorts, complete with screen caps. Sadly, the Claire/Smurfette picture would have been a better one to do the tutorial to since the picture turned out better - but ... eh.

The trick, for those of you kind of curious, but not curious enough to slog through the tutorial - is to pick a facial picture in which the shape of the person's face comes close to the shape of the cartoon character's face. Otherwise, you'll have to copy/paste just the eyes and nose and such and place them in the picture and smooth out the edges - it's a long and tedious and not very worthwhile endeavor. Trick the second is to pick a cartoon character with a very different skin tone than your real person. What makes this type of image actually work at all is the colourizing of the original face. Otherwise, it's just a lame cut and paste job.

Put a face on a cartoon

Posted by Red Monkey at 11:31 AM | Comments (5) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

March 31, 2008

Hang On, Lemme Process That For You

In high school, I can remember my speech teacher, Mr. Schumacher, talking about different kinds of learners. Some people learn visually, some aurally, some through written word. I'd never thought about this before, but I could instantly apply it to various classes and friends. Mr. Schumacher went on to talk about introverts and extroverts and a variety of other personality differences - he did this partly because we were a class of sophomores, juniors and seniors with varying comfort levels about high school, and partly because his was one of the very few high school classrooms where I rarely saw any kind of bullying happen. Mr. Schumacher was excellent at observing his students and preventing crappy behaviour before it even started. To this day, he is my role model when I consider going back to teaching.

Since I've left high school, I've done loads of reading on developmental stages of psychology, personality tests such as the Meyers-Briggs and processing issues like dyslexia, ADD and austism.

What I find fascinating is that nearly all of this really speaks to how we process the information which bombards us each day and how our filters deal with the overwhelming amount of information.

For example, many autists cannot stand tags in their clothes. Why? Because those individuals cannot stop processing the sensations from the tag. Think about the worst itch you ever had in your life - chicken pox, mosquito bite, poison ivy - that itch that you just could NOT stop thinking about and acting upon. What if the tag on the back of your shirt felt like that? What if that "itch" was literally so intense that it locked up your ability to think and became something you HAD to deal with NOW, regardless of what people thought? What if, in fact, you could not even fathom the thought "what will people think about my gyrations to get this thing off of me" because that itch was literally all you could focus on?

That's one form of processing disorder and often a common trait in autism.

What if, on the other end of the spectrum, every bit of information being tossed at you seemed equally important? Everything from the way the seam of your shorts feels kind of funny under your thigh to the rocking motion of your recliner to the level of light in the room to the feel of the keyboard under your fingers, the sound of the rain outside, the ringing of the phone, the colour of the dust motes floating in front of you, the sound of the keyboard, the sound of the cat walking across the room, the sound of your partner shifting weight slightly and lifting a beer, the smell of the Glade plugin that you read somewhere was a fire hazard and you keep meaning to unplug, the way the light flickers across the black polish of the television casing, the little bit of dust on your monitor --

Of all of those things, what is the one item that probably needs an immediate response?

With some kinds of processing disorders, you literally can't classify those according to importance. Sometimes that's an issue with autism; sometimes one with attention deficit.

What if you are so focused on what you are doing - on a regular basis, not just every once in a while - that you cannot see nor hear all of those stimuli?

What if you are so focused on your peculiar interest, that you have never learned to interpret the nuances of facial expressions? Would you know the difference between polite interest, avid interest and flirtation?

What truly fascinates me is not just the many ways in which we process (or don't process) the world around us - but the reasons why as well. For some, it's an official diagnosis of autism or asperger's or attention deficit disorder. For some, it's simply "absent-mindedness" or "bad social skills" or simply the function of a particular time, place and project.

For some, it's a biochemical process of the brain which "fouls" the "normal" ways of processing. For some, it's a matter of learning or training. For others, it's that they were never taught how to process or their environment kept them from processing in a "normal" fashion. And if that happens at an early enough age, that also affects the brain chemistry so that it might not be fully possible to learn to process "normally."

We all have our processing quirks and blind spots. Some are by choice, by faith or due to hard wiring.

And all of these processing foibles are a small portion of what makes so many of us exclaim, "If you'd just listen to me" or "if you'd just do what I told you" then all the ills of the moment could be fixed.

But the truth of the matter is ...

... we process all of those bits of information through our own experiential filters in our own ways ... and that inevitably leads to differences in what bits we process as most and least important.

It is the variety of ways in which we process the world around us which makes communication and accord so difficult, and yet it is also one of our greatest strengths as well, as new ways of processing teach us new concepts and ideas.

It's just that sometimes, we need to remember that the other guy's way of processing may not be wrong, merely different.

Posted by Red Monkey at 5:18 PM | Comments (4) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

March 10, 2008

Celt Claire

Today we have a quick li'l lesson in Photoshop and why you do not want to annoy a graphic designer. This is actually a very easy tutorial. Which, of course, is made more difficult by the fact that I'm not taking screenshots or making this into a video. Why? Because I didn't think of any of that until after the whole thing was done. So, you get text and the final result.

Step One - find images. In this particular case, someone suggested that a friend should be made a Smurf, yes, a Smurf, one of the bollox-y little blue buggers. So, I went looking for a Smurfette image, just to add insult to injury. I'm mean that way. You might be nicer, I dunno. This friend enjoys hiking and I very quickly found an image of Smurfette rock-climbing. Close enough for government work. I then went to her Flicker account and swiped an image of her. Whilst there, I saw some gorgeous pix of Derwent Edge - just the thing!

Step Two - open Photoshop. Open your background image first. Now, open your cartoon and your person. Align your windows so that you can see a wee bit of your background image file. Now, go over to the layer window and drag the layer of the cartoon over to the bit of background image window that you can see. Voila! you have now added a new layer to your Photoshop file. Hit save. Do the same with the image of the person. You should have 3 layers now. Make sure the background image is on the bottom, the cartoon in the middle and the person on top.

Step Three - Face-off. In this case, I want to insert just the face onto the cartoon image. First, I need to erase everything that is not the face from the person layer. Make sure you've selected the person layer in Photoshop, then use the lasso tool to do a "rough cut" and get rid of all the superfluous background crap from that layer. Then use the eraser tool to smooth things out. The best part about inserting this face over the cartoon is that cartoons have a nice black line to define edges ... so your edges don't have to be perfect. However, you will need to be perfect as you delete all the superfluous stuff around the cartoon character. But! don't forget you have those pretty black outlines to rely on, so it's really not so bad to clean the background off of that layer.

Step Four - Colourizing. In my case, I need to make my friend a nice Celtic blue. If I just use Image > Adjustments > Hue/Saturation, I'll change the whites of the eyes to blue as well and I don't want that. So, the next step is to duplicate the person layer. To make it easier to work, I hide the person layer which is below this one - just for a few minutes. Now, I'm going to erase everything except the whites of the eyes. When that's done, make the person layer below visible again and hide the layer which only has the eyes.
Make sure you now select the visible person layer. Go ahead and change the Hue/Saturation to get a nice blue colour, trying to match the blue of the cartoon. You want to make sure to select Colorize (darn Photoshop spells that wrong), so you can get a great blue hue. When you have it how you like it, make the layer with the eyes visible again. Merge those two layers together. You've got a blue face with white eyes now!

Did I lose you? Really? I'm sorry. I suck at tutorials when I don't use 3495027 screen shots to help you along. Maybe one day I'll do one as a video. (You can check out Donnie Hoyle's excellent tutorials. If you're not at work, that is.)

Step Five - Smooshing the Face. This is a tad bit tricky. I change the opacity of the face layer to between 50 and 85% depending on the background and how well I can make out what I want to do through the semi-opaque layer. First thing, if you need to rotate the face so it matches the head on the cartoon, do that now! when you've got that lined up, then you smoosh the size of the face down with the re-size handles. You do not necessarily have to do this evenly ... you might take more off the height and leave the face a bit wider - this is a cartoon, remember. You want the face to overlap as much as possible of the cartoon to make later steps easier. You'll want to erase some of the face so it looks like the cartoon character's hair is covering the face.

Step Six - Cleaning Up. Chances are you'll need to use the clone tool or the healing brush or even the smudge tool to get rid of some small flaws.

In my case, I had to copy and paste some of the rocks so they poked out a bit more to the side so the cartoon's hands were actually grasping rock instead of thin air. That required some judicious smudging and cloning to keep the edges looking natural and not like I'd just copied and pasted them. Also, I had to move the two pointing dudes off the near rock and put them on the next stack over. And then make them point at Smurfette instead of something off to the right.

Click to get a beautiful 1024x 768 wallpaper version.

And yeah, I'll make a for really tutorial about this one of these days. :)

Posted by Red Monkey at 11:45 AM | Comments (4) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

March 7, 2008

March Showers?

So, our shower has some issues. First, it's the only fixture in the bathroom which is an almond colour. And I don't think we can actually wrangle a new tub in through either the doorway OR the window. Bugger. So, we did the nice tub paint thing on it. Except the paint was a little "stiff" on the last coat ... and somehow we never got around to buying another can of it to finish up. Then, turns out, you're really not supposed to leave your wet shower curtain on that paint forever and ever in the corner. Cuz now all the paint in that corner has worn off.

Next, and more important on a day to day level ... is the showerhead. We were getting next to no water pressure for the last couple of weeks. And the hot water was just not wanting to get hot - but ONLY to the shower. No drippy pipes.

Today I decided I'd had enough. I carefully took the showerhead down. Easy fix, there's a pressure adjuster in there that we don't need since there's only adults in the house. And, it was gunked up a bit with some rust particles. Yank that sucker out and screw the showerhead back up.

Good news? We have hot water which is actually hot. We have water pressure. I fixed the showerhead.

Bad news? Then I broke the showerhead.

GAH! I had to take it off with a wrench, but I started putting it back on by hand. I pulled out the hand wrench to give it the infamous "last little twist" - trying to gauge the force correctly since I didn't want to --

Oops. I didn't want to break the damn plastic screw-on connection, but guess what? Literally one twist with the wrench and POP!

Dammit.

Now I have to go buy a new showerhead. Frankly, the other half is ecstatic as she didn't like that one anyway.

Just what I wanted to do today! WOOHOO!

(Maybe I'll go to Chipotles for dinner ... mmmm ... burritos and REAL guacamole.)

UPDATE: I didn't go to Chipotles ... wound up not on that side of town. And you know what? We're out of food now. I ate chicken fajitas tonight ... without any tortillas (or guacamole). Damn.

Anyhow, I installed the new showerhead shortly after getting home. Works like a charm. :)

Posted by Red Monkey at 1:04 PM | Comments (5) | Never Underestimate the Power of Human Stupidity | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

March 5, 2008

Six Years

Happy birthday, little man!

(Yes, I'm one of those weird people. But dammit, he's a sweetie.)

Posted by Red Monkey at 9:09 AM | Comments (7) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

March 4, 2008

The Speed of Dark

I read an excellent book by Elizabeth Moon called The Speed of Dark a few years ago, a really interesting look at a future not too far away and a man named Lou Arrendale. Lou works at a company where he is employed to "find patterns."

As it turns out, Lou is one of the last generation who is an autist. By the time Lou was born, there are wonderful educational techniques which enable people with autism to interact and socialize with the world more like the high-functioning autists of today. But, not long after Lou is born and learning through these new methods, a new treatment for autism is discovered -- correcting the issue and making those who've had the newest treatment normal (or nearly so - we get some intimations that their social interactions are a touch off, but no more so than the typical insensitive person).

What I found fascinating about the book - besides the wonderful writing and really vivid characterization - was the similarities between geek culture and the culture that Moon created around these folks with autism.

Lou and the other folks like him at his work, enjoy a small gym where they can go to calm themselves down. There's a small trampoline and a treadmill; there's classical music to help them get into a project or calm down; there's lots of colorful spinners in Lou's cubical which help him focus himself on his pattern finding projects.

Geek culture has some similarities, I think. Our jobs often involve either a creative process or programming process (sometimes both) that the higher ups generally don't even pretend to understand. And most true geeks that I know have at least a few toys (action figures, cars, PVC statues or minis, LEGOs, Star Wars and/or Star Trek, Nerf!!!). They have these toys to keep them creative, to keep them focused, to keep them sane under pressure - even though others may think them childish or simply silly.

And, of course, there are a lot of geeks (not all, by any means) whose social skills are still not very great. A great many geeks would prefer to do away with some of the niceties of social interaction and just "say what you mean." We see a lot of this in the book, too. Lou often thinks to himself about various common social phrases and has to think through both the literal meaning and then what he knows the social meaning of the phrase or act is. And he constantly asks himself if it wouldn't just be simpler to say what you mean instead of these weird social codes. You can still see the "damage" that autism has caused in Lou's interpretation of social cues, where he has a fundamental confusion over why people do some things that's not even seen in geeks.

But the parallel is there.

And, of course, there's been a lot of news coverage and research lately into the creativity and ... well, the geekiness of high-functioning autists. How they get into art or music or computers or pure math.

Just makes me wonder ... how many "diseases" or disorders are out there where the diagnosis is only quantifying a segment of a continuum? Does talent in one area cause a deficit in another? Or does a deficit in one area cause a talent in another?

If we know the speed of light, why don't we know the speed of dark?

Posted by Red Monkey at 10:21 AM | Comments (1) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

February 21, 2008

Steampunk Nerf

First, let me kind of react to some of the comments about the Nerf Sniper Rifle post. My issue is not with the toy's existence, it's with calling it a "toy." I don't want to legislate crap like that. I am for involved parenting.

All of that said, and as fun as most of the Nerf guns are for ALL ages, I still don't think a sniper rifle that shoots foam darts is truly a toy. Do some mods on it like the good folks out at Nerfhaven.com and get better accuracy and firepower out of it and go play a nice game of "foam-paintball." Now, if my 10 year old wants it ... I doubt it. Not without a buttload of rules like, "never point it at a person or animal." Not because it's as physically dangerous as a BB gun, which kids have been playing with and surviving without shooting up their schools for decades, but because I believe in involved parenting, as several of my commenters on the previous post stated. Involved parent who lets their kid play with a Nerf sniper rifle under rules and such ... okay. I'm just saying how many parents are NOT thinking and just buying Nerf?

Anyhow. Enough said.

For a complete change of topic, I bring you to the realm of Steampunk. What is Steampunk, you ask? From Wikipedia:

Steampunk is a subgenre of fantasy and speculative fiction which came into prominence in the 1980s and early 1990s. The term denotes works set in an era or world where steam power is still widely used—usually the 19th century, and often set in Victorian era England—but with prominent elements of either science fiction or fantasy, such as fictional technological inventions like those found in the works of H. G. Wells and Jules Verne, or real technological developments like the computer occurring at an earlier date. Other examples of steampunk contain alternate history-style presentations of "the path not taken" of such technology as dirigibles or analog computers; these frequently are presented in an idealized light, or a presumption of functionality.

Think 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. Or Steamboy.

Need a visual? Try the Datamancer. Or this iPod gelaskin from GelaSkins.com.

Now, enter my goofball self.

As I was running some preliminary research on the Nerf sniper rifle, I discovered Nerfers and Nerf Wars ... well, really that was a re-discovery. I already knew about the sport/hobby, but hadn't really gotten into it. But then I found Chris (from the weekly geek show) and his Steampunk Nerf Maverick gun. Oh my. I haven't done a good modding project in quite some time. Most of my equipment is in the basement, including my big-ass box of Citadel paints that I got and then never opened. (I know, I know.)

So, of course ... I HAD to! Click the images to see the larger size version. (Oh, and the blue "lights" on the gun look better in person, more glow-y and less paint-y)

 

 

 

Fun times!!

Posted by Red Monkey at 3:19 PM | Comments (3) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | hobbies | Stumble

February 16, 2008

New Species of Dog Discovered

The aKC announced this week a brand new species of dog. Originally thought to be a dachshund, genetic testing has proven that the Indiana Nesting Hound, is, in fact, a separate species from the more common Dachshund, or wiener dog. These two specimens below are in their semi-nested state. You can click the image to see a larger version. Make sure to wait for it to fully load so you can see the nesting process in action.

News story and photo courtesy of the aKC ... the almostKennelClub.
Heh
(Scout is on the right and Scraps is the serious nester on the left.)

Posted by Red Monkey at 11:42 AM | Comments (6) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Vacations and Photos | Stumble

February 2, 2008

Mastermind

As a child, I was constantly re-vamping something. As I underwent the rapid change of elementary schools and landed finally in a school which instead of encouraging me to excel, actually tossed me back quite a bit, I began re-designing the school system. I didn't realize that third graders do not design school systems. It didn't occur to me that I was being presumptuous or precocious. I saw an inefficient system and I wanted to improve it. I walked around for days contemplating various issues from how to decide which classes were tracked, how many tracks to have and how to train the teachers to treat everyone. That last was especially important to me because I had started noticing what damage a teacher could do by choosing the wrong methodology.

Yeah, I know. What third grader does this?

The Mastermind.

You see, when taking the Meyers-Briggs personality questionnaire, I come out as an INTJ. Introverted, iNtuitive, Thinking, Judging.

People like me tend to build systems, to look for inefficiencies and fix them. And to a third grader forced to re-do 6-8 weeks worth of work upon arrival at the new school, the entire issue of public education seemed highly inefficient. And since this particular move from Austin to Arlington involved not just a movement within the area ... but a larger move ... it occurred to me that there was no national school system. Just lots and lots of little school systems.

So how in the bleeding hell could there be any standards across the United States? There weren't even visible standards going from Austin to Arlington.

Obviously, this is an inefficient way to educate our youth and build a nation.

Of course, I was the one to do this.

No wonder the teachers at my new school were at a loss regarding how to handle me. Since the INTJ personality type is found in just 1-2% of the population and tends to have far more males than females in its category, they were at a loss as to just how to get this "hysterical female child" who was pretty close to emotionless as well as quite serious and logical to shut up so they could get on with their jobs.

I considered going to the principal to discuss the issue, however, during the new student orientation, I had already decided that our principal did not understand that children are real, reasoning beings. She had that saccharine smile and was so quick to look away from child to the important adults. Marina Margaret Heiss says that INTJs tend to look at anyone who is "'slacking,' including superiors, [with dis]respect -- and will generally [make them] aware of this." I had learned by the age of ten that letting it be too obvious that I disapproved of lax or illogical behaviours (which I defined, of course, as behaviour not following my system of logic, which was, of course, the RIGHT system ... after all, I had honed it to an art form) ... I had learned that letting my opinion about such wrong logic or lax attitude was rather dangerous to my well-being and peace of mind. So, instead of talking to the principal for whom I had no respect, I began asking my teachers why they set up their classes in the way they did.

I rarely got a straight answer.

So, I began developing my own rules. In fact, by fifth grade, when I read Robert Heinlein's The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress, I was utterly enthralled with the character of Professor LaPaz who stated:

I will accept any rules that you feel necessary to your freedom. I am free, no matter what rules surround me. If I find them tolerable, I tolerate them; if I find them too obnoxious, I break them. I am free because I know that I alone am morally responsible for everything I do.

I drove teachers batty ... I hated being in trouble ... I was a good kid ... and yet, there were times when they would watch as I deliberately disregarded a rule, cooly, calmly and whilst looking them straight in the eyes.

There was the instance of the substitute teacher in fourth grade. I needed to pee during math class. The substitute decided I was simply going to cause a disruption or that I was going to wreak havoc instead of going to the restroom. She told me that I absolutely could not leave. First, I hated it when any adult "decided" that "all children are X way." What an illogical system of belief!

Secondly, the deal is ... if I actually admitted to a teacher that I needed to go ... I was at least 10 minutes into the wriggling dance which means if I don't go soon, I'm going to burst my bladder or pee all over my desk. I absolutely HATED having to ASK to go to the bathroom. I wriggled and debated. I asked again. The substitute got angry and lectured the class.

I got up and walked out whilst she was distracted a moment later. I had to PEEEEEEEEEEEE, dammit.

Since our school was always in a state of utter chaos, with some 200 children in my grade level all in one huge "room" ... this was not quite the feat of stealth you might otherwise think. I went to the bathroom and then waited until one of the teachers rang the bell indicating it was time to change class areas. I waltzed back in, gathered my stuff, ignored her and went to my next class as if nothing had happened. I then, on the advice (okay, the insane egging on) of my friends, proceeded to write an "anonymous" note to the substitute telling her how evil she was and how behaviour like that was exactly how she was going to wind up "with dark puddles in the classroom."

Apparently, my regular teacher informed me upon her return, I made the substitute cry with that note. Not that I saw. She just looked pissed off to me. Which I thought was far better than pissed on, which was another option I had considered (actually, I thought about peeing in her desk chair ... meh, close enough). And the thing is, I didn't do this out of meanness to her ... but so that she would learn. Even considering peeing in her chair, I didn't understand this as a vicious act of grossness or vandalism. I thought I was logically teaching her something she needed to learn in order to be a better teacher. When a child claims they have to pee and does "that" wiggle ... you better freaking rush them to the bathroom!!

This happens in part because many INTJs do not readily grasp the social rituals; for instance, they tend to have little patience and less understanding of such things as small talk and flirtation (which most types consider half the fun of a relationship). To complicate matters, INTJs are usually extremely private people, and can often be naturally impassive as well, which makes them easy to misread and misunderstand. Perhaps the most fundamental problem, however, is that INTJs really want people to make sense. :-) This sometimes results in a peculiar naivete'

That's from Marina Margaret Heiss again.

I was obviously having issues grasping the social rituals there!!

The thing which perhaps confused my teachers and my family the most ... that confuses my friends today ... is that an INTJ tends to define success for themselves. We don't necessarily define it the way others expect.

I was a smart kid. I could work incessantly on some projects and pay attention to the smallest details - my system building tendencies at work. Worksheets and tests, I would race through, doing less than a stellar job and getting tagged as "not living up to full potential." I got high enough grades to keep almost everyone off my back or at least keep their displeasure to a level of background noise I could live with. The more astute teachers knew I was hitting that minimum just to shut them up and it either drove them nuts, or they docked me points just to make me work harder ... and a few special ones left me alone because my grades were my choice (of course, some didn't give a crap, either).

All of this has led to complications in my adult life, of course. The novel I completed for my master's degree remains in a drawer. I've never sent it out to be published. Most of you find that mad, don't you? All that work to create a world and write some 300 pages ... and do nothing with it? What was the point?

Eh, while a great many unpublished writers claim that they do not write for publication, most of them do at least have publication as a serious goal. I mean it. I wrote it for me. I enjoy having people read it ... but ...

My goal was to write the book. It was publishable when I finished it in 1996. At least, it was comparable quality and theme to other science-fiction books being published at the time. Today, I've seen other writers hit some of my same ideas. It doesn't anger me. It makes me smile. I was right on target. If I were to bother attempting to send it out today, I'd need to do some updating. It wouldn't be all that hard. But I don't do it.

Why? Largely because you need a one page summary of your novel to send out with the first three chapters and your cover letter - whether to agent or to publisher - provided either actually accept "over the transom" manuscripts. It's a process in which your work often gets rejected unread.

And, I find marketing myself difficult. I can market for products, for other people ... and I do a damn good job at it. But myself? Not so much. I want to fan out some of my work and let my work speak for me. I shouldn't need to do anything else. So trying to summarize my 300 page novel into a single page ... writing a cover letter for a job ... these are impossible tasks for me. Insurmountable problems. Social rituals that I do not comprehend and yet am forced to attempt to fake my way through.

From Personality Zone:

Masterminds are rare, comprising no more than, say, one percent of the population, and they are rarely encountered outside their office, factory, school, or laboratory. Although they are highly capable leaders, Masterminds are not at all eager to take command, preferring to stay in the background until others demonstrate their inability to lead. Once they take charge, however, they are thoroughgoing pragmatists. Masterminds are certain that efficiency is indispensable in a well-run organization, and if they encounter inefficiency-any waste of human and material resources-they are quick to realign operations and reassign personnel. Masterminds do not feel bound by established rules and procedures, and traditional authority does not impress them, nor do slogans or catchwords. Only ideas that make sense to them are adopted; those that don't, aren't, no matter who thought of them.

My partner, indeed, most people who know me well, wind up guffawing when they read that paragraph describing the INTJ ... it's so very much the distilled essence of me.

I enjoy being an INTJ and couldn't imagine being any other way. I'm quite comfortable with myself. However, I constantly seek to minimize certain INTJ tendencies ... I constantly grapple with how to market myself ... with trying to be a bit more outgoing instead of so intensely focused on whatever my goal is. (As Heiss says, "Whatever system an INTJ happens to be working on is for them the equivalent of a moral cause to an INFJ" ... and that can sometimes be quite off-putting to other people!)

And here's the real deal ... whilst I have a tendency to refuse categorization (I hate About Me boxes, for instance and mine universally say little about me except that I hate the damn things) ... this one category of INTJ does tend to "hold" most of my traits. But like any category, it describes an aspect or a trend and does not contain me.

So while I am an INTJ and proud of it ... I am myself as well. I am not constrained and defined by my personality type any more than other people are truly defined by theirs. I use that box as a jumping off point to understand why I act the way that I do and how I can improve my relations with others. I do not use it to limit myself but to improve myself.

And that, I suppose is why I hate About Me boxes. They don't serve to improve me, but to encapsulate me ... a distilled short form of me to feed to other people.

As with marketing myself in general, I prefer to fan out a selection of my work and let that speak for me instead.

Posted by Red Monkey at 8:44 AM | Comments (8) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Why Johnny Won't Learn and Mrs. Curnutt Is Tired of the System | Stumble

January 21, 2008

Tag, She's It

I was tagged by Mark Stoneman to name 8 random things about myself. Like Mark, I often ignore tags. But when reading his 8 things aloud to my partner and coming across his gem about the chickens. I decided, as usual, to twist the meme and change it up.

Here are 8 random things about my partner. (Done with her approval cuz even though with as much as she's tossing and turning and flopping around at night with her surgery sliced hand, I don't really wanna sleep out here on the futon.)

1) In homage to Mark's chickens: My other half was raised in farm country and the entire family was very into 4H ... her younger brother LOVED fowl. At one point they had, and I quote: a bunch of "cross beaked little inbred freaks which did not help the hillbilly impression since they were loose all over the yard, the FRONT yard." Apparently their beaks did not line up. The top beak was not in the same line as the bottom beak which did make the entire family wonder how the durn things even managed to eat.

2) She cooks wonderful things. Delicious, wonderful things. This is both because of 4H and the fact that her mother was a Home Sciences teacher (involved far more than your typical Home Ec stereotypical stuff).

3) She is the messiest cook I have EVER met.

4) She forces ME to do the dishes. (Okay, okay. To be fair, she does all the laundry and I do all the dishes.)

5) She is clutterblind. I have watched her as she stacks papers and books and objects on her little table until it's literally a foot high. And then attempt to place something else on top. And then get mad when half of this slides inevitably to the floor.

6) She reads fem slash fan fiction based on Law & Order SVU and also of the Birds of Prey (DC comics, Batman universe). (And I bet she makes me delete this one.)
(Her first response was to say, Hell yes, you have to delete that. Her second, grudging response, was Okay, you can leave it. But you have to correct it to say fem slash fan fiction ... because if you have to out me about this, at least you can let people know I'm not reading that horrid straight shit.)

7) I introduced her to comic books and now when she recognizes something and makes a comment like, "That's not really a part of the Batman canon, is it?" ... she then whips her head to me and says, "You see? You SEE what you have done to me? I should NOT know these things!"
(hehehehehehe)

8) She FORCED me into getting a dog. Now we have two and I want a third.

Posted by Red Monkey at 7:51 AM | Comments (4) | Blog | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

January 8, 2008

That Sleep Thing

Several people asked if the great sleep experiment actually worked. The short answer is yes. I am tired by about 8 every night and ready for bed. It's still not easy to force myself to go to bed at such an ungodly early hour, but it's much more do-able than it has ever been before.

This past week was the first week back to work for the other half, so naturally, the first night she had to be at work by 5 a.m., the animals woke me up after I'd slept for only two hours. I was up for another 4 after that and was sure that all the work we'd done to reset my clock would be ruined, but it was fairly easy to keep the correct hours anyway. I call that a LOT of progress.

Things have been quite quiet here ... seems my brain is on a bit of a minor shutdown, resting up for further trouble, no doubt. I've had a quickie freelance job to work on, and, of course, I've been working slowly on Cheese Circles as well.

Posted by Red Monkey at 9:54 AM | Comments (7) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

December 26, 2007

Gifts Received ... and not received

What I got:

• a reminder that all families fight ... and somehow most of them come through it
• the memory of Dec 24, 2007 ... one of the most beautiful days and nights of my life
• a more full understanding that the people around me listen to me and genuinely like me
• time to reflect on how utterly amazing this year has been, even though I got laid off and my other half had major, routine surgery in May and will have routine day surgery in another couple of weeks
• the realization that I am much stronger this year, more balanced

What I didn't get:

• world peace, surcease of sorrow and the answer to world hunger
• flashbacks of rotten holidays or birthdays past
• sad or depressed or angry
• the chance to see my family
• a new job

I see so very many topics in various forums and blogging sites: What do YOU get for Christmas ... What did Santa bring you?

And I just think, how crass. I guess I really am getting old, but too many of these conversations just sound like "looky what my family and friends can afford." I know some of it is people genuinely excited over getting something they wanted. (I could hardly keep from telling everyone I saw about my big gift this year ... actually, it was the first words out of my mouth to nearly everyone for about 4 hours after we opened gifts.)

And I'm equally kinda blah about posts ... well, posts insisting on NOT looking at the commercial end of the December holidays ... yeah, kinda like the post I'm writing right now, huh? I dunno, just seems like there should be a balance point.

For me, I'm glad I had a chance to do some reflection the last couple of days ... and to be honest, I am glad for the stuff I got too.

Posted by Red Monkey at 10:51 PM | Comments (4) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

December 14, 2007

Edicts

My mom went to Catholic school. I think this is where she picked up her intense love-affair with edicts - rules which were written in stone and were absolutely iron-clad. And they worked for her throughout much of her life ... when I was first diagnosed with asthma and allergies at age 3, her love-affair with organization and rules (commonly known as OCD today) rose to the challenge. Monday and Friday were vacuuming days. The ENTIRE house was vacuumed those days. Since one of my allergies was dust, the doctor told Mom that the house had to be very clean - I had a box springs covered in plastic. Actually, I probably should have been in a bubble.

Anyhow, Mom had her set days to vacuum, to wash clothes, to wash the sheets. In time, it went from a routine to a full blown obsession, as did most of Mom's edicts.

Many of her edicts didn't make sense, however. Not long after we'd moved away from my beloved Austin, my new school had "Hat Day." I was in third grade now and after so many peer group moves in short succession, (kindergarten and first grade in one school, second grade in another, a new peer group when I went back to my old school for third grade ... and then moving to Arlington after just the first six weeks of third grade), I was struggling to make friends. I was eager to participate in Hat Day. This just seemed perfect for my Donald Duck baseball cap. It was a nice red ballcap with a circle appliqué of Donald's head. Not too kiddie, but cartoons are a great way to start conversations when you're eight.

Mom's edict: no Donald Duck hat for school that day. I was too old for such things and I would be teased.

I was in shock. I argued. I presented cogent arguments. When I realized that logic would not budge her, I whined, wailed and threw everything short of a full-blown fit.

And then I got stubborn. I shoved the cap down the back of my pants. (I had no homework and so I never had a bag to take stuff home ... and if I'd had one, she would have checked that.)

I went to school and my hat was a huge hit, just as I'd known it would be.

All hell broke loose as I attempted to smuggle the hat back into the house. She'd gone looking for it whilst I was at school. I denied, quite plausibly. She couldn't see where I'd hidden it. She screamed. She hollered. She told me she'd invaded my inner sanctum and conducted a thorough search. She KNEW I had worn it to school explicitly against her wishes, and by gum, I was to cough up that damn cap NOW!

I fished it out (and wasn't she just HORRIFIED to discover it was keeping my li'l ass warm when it wasn't on my head) and I handed it over.

It went into the kitchen trash.

I fished it right out.

YOU ARE NOT WEARING THAT AFTER WHERE IT'S BEEN!

She yanked it out of my hands and threw it in the trash again. This time I did throw a complete and total fit. I had disobeyed and been caught and I fully expected punishment. But this? This didn't seem like a punishment to fit the crime to my about-to-turn-nine-years-old mind. Grounding, no TV, no hats for a month. But throwing away my favourite Disney World souvenir because I wore the cap to school on Hat Day????

(And no, I'm still not over that hat. I see a red ball cap like that to this day and whine about my Donald Duck cap.)

There were other edicts passed down through the years. A favourite one is that you have to make a recipe EXACTLY like the recipe card or book says. If an ingredient says "(optional)" next to it, that comment you ignore. Everything on that card goes into that recipe, darnit! It got to the point where I hated it when my mom made "Grandma's Chocolate Cake" ... because she always put nuts in the frosting. I like nuts, but not in that frosting. And they made the roof of my mouth itch, which didn't make for a pleasant birthday cake, really.

Once, after a hard day at high school, I decided I wanted some chips and dip. We didn't have any dip. So I thought for a moment. Most dips were either cheese based or sour cream based. I got out the sour cream, dumped some in a bowl and headed to the spice rack. I don't recall now everything I dumped in there ... it was more of an open the jar, sniff and dump kind of thing. Hey, that smells good, put some of that in there.

I sat down to enjoy my snack and my little sister waltzes in. I share, not super willingly as I really hadn't made enough for two people, but I do let her have some. We're chowing down happily.

INT. HOUSE - KITCHEN - AFTERNOON

ENTER Mom

MOM: Where did you get that?
LI'L RED MONKEY: From the fridge.
MOM (horrified): That wasn't in there this morning. Where did you get it?
LI'L RED MONKEY: I made it.
MOM (panicked now): Where's the recipe? (looks around frantically)
LI'L RED MONKEY: There's not one, I just added stuff to it until I liked it.
MOM: You can't DO that!
LI'L RED MONKEY: Why?
MOM: You have to have a recipe! You'll get food poisoning and die!

I think I was about 15. You can imagine the snotty teenaged reactions after that. Unfortunately, my sister did get a stomach upset after eating it, which just further codified Mom's belief that You Must Always Have a Recipe Created By a Licensed Chef.

Never mind that my sister was lactose intolerant and just ate a bunch of sour cream ....

Don't confuse Mom with facts. It's not nice.

The interesting thing to me, though, is how all of Mom's edicts were supposedly designed to keep us as collectible children in mint condition ....

Posted by Red Monkey at 12:15 PM | Comments (4) | Never Underestimate the Power of Human Stupidity | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

December 8, 2007

Paddington Bear ARRESTED

Prime Minister Brown is set to take on illegal immigration in the U.K. and has served notice by going after one of the most loved and well-known illegal immigrants in the U.K. - Paddington Bear.

"It's an outrage!" claimed Paddington from his home West London after his initial release pending further investigation. "I was a mere cub and was forced onto the boat by my auntie. I knew nothing of immigration papers or applications."

However, a neighbor in Notting Hill recalls a gleeful young Paddington bragging about beating the system. "He was constantly laughing at me and telling me to call the Border and Immigration Agency but that it would do no good. He said he knew someone on the inside and that I was simply a cranky curry to be tossed in the bin and thought of no more."

"I may be from darkest Peru," the angry bear stated early in the day from his holding cell, "but I know this is just a ploy to boost his polls. I don't understand why the government must persecute me in this way."

The Home Office had this to say: "We are taking a robust approach to tracking down people who have no right to be here and removing them from the UK."

However, Mr. Bear's family and friends claim this is all a dark plot to paint Mr. Bear as a terrorist. "We just don't understand why the government would make these claims! Certainly his fur is a sand tan colour, but he is Peruvian, not Middle Eastern. This is racial profiling at its absolute lowest form - because it's not even based on facts, just the appearance of a different ethnicity."

Long-time friend and companion, Pooh Bear of 100 Acre Woods, declared he overheard two bobbies claiming Paddington Bear quite obviously fit the profile of a suicide bearer. "I mean, indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Pooh Bear. "Everyone is quite well aware that the phrase is suicide bomber, not bearer. This is simply gross bearism in its most heinous form."

Mr. Bear has resided at 32 Windsor Gardens, Notting Hill, west London since his arrival in the U.K. some fifty years ago.

BBC article regarding the arrest here.

Posted by Red Monkey at 9:59 AM | Comments (5) | Never Underestimate the Power of Human Stupidity | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Storytelling: She was, of course, supposed to be sleeping. | Stumble

November 7, 2007

Losers. Failure. Despair.

Quite a while back, I discovered a little website with some funny posters ... and, not being one of the great dissatisfied at the time, promptly forgot about it. I snickered my ass off in 2001 when they filed a trademark for :-( and "threatened" to sue some seven million email users for trademark infringement. I snickered harder when I realized that despite the obvious satire of the entire Despair site and definitely of the press release about the trademark, people took this stuff seriously.

I rediscovered the site in early 2006 when I was finally trying to adjust to the corporate world ... and fell in love. They are true motivational posters.

For example, my favourite one remains:

 

The story of this website is one of those, "Good lord, what the heck is wrong with me for not doing this myself" kind of deals. Essentially two brothers and a friend were working at a company who was jerking them around ... as companies are wont to do. They sat around making up "fake" motivational posters one day as they flipped through a "real" motivational poster catalog ... and the idea was born. When they got their "settlement" money from the buyout of the company they worked for, they took it, raised more capital ... and began to discover and create Despair.

So far as I can tell, they've spun off all of the customer disservice and fulfillment duties to a sister company, Amplifier, and Despair itself is just a handful of people. (One article said just one of the founders ... another said four people.)

Other favourites:

 

Today, of course, Despair has branched out a bit. You can pick your favourite DeMotivators and make a calendar out of them. You can get the pessimist's mug. DespairWear is taking off in a big way. And, of course, there's the book.

Enjoy! Check out more from www.despair.com.

Except you won't find this one over there ... what? you really didn't think after getting laid off I'd be able to resist, did you?

The truly funny thing? When I signed up for Despair's email list, every person in the marketing department was frustrated. We wanted to make cool, hip, edgy emailers like the beautiful sarcasm in the Wailing List emails. But, dealing with a product that really wasn't very cool, hip or edgy, we were destined to relative dullness.

And when I went to my high school reunion, someone brought up Despair. Turns out that I went to high school with two of the three founders. And one of them sat in front of me during Spanish class. He was a kinda quiet guy, into art and poetry. We had a lot of fun commiserating on the idiotic tendencies toward conformity in my high school. He found it amusing that I was in serious trouble at home because I refused to have my senior picture taken. You see, for our yearbook picture senior year, we all wore the exact same outfit. The guys had a suit/tux thing ... and the women had this weird black dress top with a seemingly feather boa. Okay, it was a bit nicer looking than a feather boa ... but still.

My senior class was full of rebels and non-conformists. And yet, every one I can think think of who insisted on individuality and not following the herd ... every single one of them had their senior pictures taken like that. So "Eric" found it amusing that despite all the people in common we knew, I was the only one stupid enough or stubborn enough to actually refuse to have my picture taken like that.

It's funny. I know a lot of people who can't remember their childhoods at all. Many who can't remember high school. But I can still picture "Eric" sitting in front of me during Spanish. There were perhaps 3 of us in the class who would cruise through the work with no effort, which left Eric and I with a lot of time to chat and pass notes. I can remember some intense conversations ... but not quite so much the specifics of what we talked about.

Odd how small the world can be. And how excellent it is that a guy I used to worry about on a regular basis for the despair that he seemed to have back then ... how excellent is it that he has turned that "characteristic" (for lack of a better word) into such a wonderful business.

Posted by Red Monkey at 10:06 AM | Comments (4) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

September 7, 2007

WHY?

Scout does not understand why I must torture her. She is a cute, sweet li'l girl of a tiny li'l puppy dog. WHY would I want to torture her until she must hide far far away, tucked into a nice cuddly safe spot?

 

 

Poor little thing. All tucked in, shivering, abandoned and alone. Her little toys too far away to cuddle with and too scared to go get them and comfort herself.

And why? What torture did I invoke?

I vacuumed the dining room and kitchen ... and was nowhere near where she was at all.

I'm just mean that way, I guess.

Posted by Red Monkey at 11:26 AM | Comments (3) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

September 3, 2007

Still Busy ...

Posted by Red Monkey at 6:36 AM | Comments (4) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

August 28, 2007

Very Very Very Busy

Without any warning from Nautilus/Bowflex at all ... eight boxes of THIS came today.

I'll be busy putting it together for a few days. And after that? I'll be busy becoming svelte and shit.

Oh, and then next week the drawing table should be here. I'm gonna be real tired for a while.

Posted by Red Monkey at 6:42 PM | Comments (3) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

August 24, 2007

64

I love computers. I have ever since I saw the Commodore-64 in junior high. There was a thrill of discovery for everything we did. I never knew what I would find on one of those 5 1/4" diskettes.

My dad got into computers back in the day of full room, punch card, ridiculous tubes and all. The thought of a tiny little computer at home which could hold a whole 64 KB of memory (and had no hard drive!) was irresistible to him. He and his buddies swapped computer programs, eventually cracking or writing tools for each other to use to beat the copyrights on the few programs they actually purchased.

As a result, we NEVER had the directions to any of the programs we had -- and there was no W3 to go look things up on just yet. So for me, everything about computers involved discovery. Not only did I usually not know what was on a disk, but how to play the game or use the word processor was a process of explorations. I still remember a game called Bugaboo that we never did really figure out beyond making the little guy hop. When I first played the game, I did my usual: hit every key once until I found out the controls for that game. You died a lot trying to brute force your way through the controls of a game like that, but that was all right. It was part of the adventure. And adventure is rarely as much fun with a clear map as without.

Of course, using that method to figure out the word processor was a lot more tedious and involved figuring out how to access the help menu and then lots of tedious handwriting of directions. Then the directions were typed into the computer and then printed out so the whole family could use them. It was kind of a wacky process.

Flash forward to today when I've got a little flash USB drive that holds 64 Megs of info. 64 MBs of info. That little C-64 seems pretty silly to me now. It couldn't do a whole lot. And what it could do it took forever to do.

But I learned to open up a program and start digging around in it. I learned a little bit about how computers think. That little machine was one of the best teachers I ever had.

I think of my students over the last nine years. I moved from teaching in a "traditional" classroom (desk chairs, a podium and chalkboards) to teaching in a net-worked computer classroom. I was the only instructor at Notre Dame to move my writing class into the computer classroom. Why'd I do it?

I watched first-year students struggle so much with their computers. They couldn't figure out how to do automated page numbers. I had one student who didn't know you could tell the word processor to double-space your paper. That student had been manually hitting return at the end of every line and another return to make the paper looked double-spaced. They knew they hit the save button, but they couldn't find the file unless they opened up Word and used the "Recent Files" list. Learning to use the university webmail program to attach a file gave some of them conniptions.

But the Dean of First Year Studies, who has very recently retired, I believe, insisted that "these kids grew up with computers, they don't need a computer class." Never mind the student, who at the height of the 3.5" floppy disk, tried to put his disk in upside down and backwards; never mind the student who picked up her mouse and placed it on the computer screen and wanted to know why the cursor wouldn't move; never mind the graduate student who couldn't find the "My Computer" icon on his plain and nearly empty desktop.

I felt sorry for my students, truth be told. So many of them struggled with their computers and their minimal computer skills. I'd spend a day showing them the basic ins and outs of Word - changing fonts, font size, color, centering, doing page numbers and indents. All sorts of basic word processing skills. I didn't even get into adding pictures or graphs or integrating with Excel. If we had enough time in a semester and they requested it, I'd even show them some rudimentary HTML.

But mostly, I wanted to teach them to play with their computers as much as I wanted them to play with their writing. I wanted them to explore both. I think those who did begin exploring really got something out of the class. Those who thought I was a jerk for trying to do stuff that "so obviously wasn't about writing," well, they didn't get much out of the class. I never stopped trying to reach those kids, though.

Think what we could accomplish if we could just explore and play a little bit more.

Thank goodness for that Commodore-64. Easily the best $500 my Dad ever spent on anything.

Posted by Red Monkey at 3:36 PM | Comments (0) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

August 20, 2007

Lamar High School ... 1987

Lamar High School ... 20 Year Reunion ... Arlington, Texas

For some incredibly geeky reason, I've been looking forward to this since ... well, since a couple of months out of high school. Here's the basic skinny:

Reunions by the Party People
Friday, October 19th, 2007 ... Ice Breaker Party ... J. Gilligan’s ... 8:00p.m. - Midnight

Saturday, October 20th, 2007 ... Reunion Celebration ... (Casual Attire) ... Rangers Ballpark in Arlington ... 7:30p.m. - Midnight

More info? Check out http://www.alumniclass.com/lamarhstx/

There's a slew of people I have not been able to find that I would love to meet up with there. I've gotten in touch with Lori Goe and Annette Simonini ... but I'm still looking for:
Janet Kim (Kyungah)
Brenda Heath
Kate McDonald
Shannon Heizer
Suzanne Gruchow (even tho you moved before going to Lamar!)
Veronica Cano
Susan Stetson
Anna Tan
Amy Alexander
Ashley Aguilar
Kristi Grimm
Alison Campbell
Paula Gill
Lisa Pawloski
Suzanne Scott
Jill Stewart
Jenny Britton
Tracy McGuire

And, of course, there are a slew of other folks that I'd like to catch up with again as well.

Really, I just posted this in the hopes that those people who haven't found out about the reunion can perhaps hit this info thru Google since the info's not all that easy to find.

Posted by Red Monkey at 12:17 AM | Comments (2) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

August 3, 2007

Can't Be Careful on a Skateboard II

I adore the X-Games. We have DISH and a DVR now, so I can actually WATCH the X-Games. So it was with great anticipation that I waited for the DVR to flip the channel last night.

I was excited to see some "no-name" (Scott Murray) from Helps, Michigan, make it to the X-Games. It's great when some "youngster" gets a shot at the big time. But my word ... the first event was the skateboard Big Air and the ramp!! Take a peek:

 

These dudes are just flying over this thing, doing tricks across the gap, land that, then go up the vert wall as high as possible (they were mostly hitting right around 18-20 feet high), do a trick and then, of course, land it. Scoring was on both how high they could go and how impressive their two tricks were. For this, you've got to have the tightest trucks you can imagine (I know most of you don't know much about skateboarding - loose trucks = wobbliness and easy turns ... tight trucks = less wobble, much more difficult to make a turn).

Jake Brown from Australia does a freaking 720 degrees of rotation across that gap. SEVEN HUNDRED AND TWENTY degrees of rotation! He's going fast, fast, fast. Up the quarter pipe ... and then:

 

He falls about 50 feet. I'm not gonna show him hitting. I was totally flipping out. I've never seen a pro boarder hit that hard. It was insane. I thought he was dead, or paralyzed ... the whole place was just chilled. One skateboarder friend said he was sure that Jake was dead, because when he got up there, the dude's eyes were open but he wasn't breathing.

No effin' way! Jake Brown hobbled off the ramp. I'm still waiting to hear how much damage was done, but the dude was able to walk (sort of) away.

Unreal.

What I find most interesting is the reactions of those into extreme sports ... and those who don't understand them at all. For me, I know I would never ever be of the skill level to attempt a mega-ramp like that. But would I push myself to do some skillz-appropriate similar stunt? Yeah, sure I would. It's about defining a goal and feeling that utter freedom ... the rush of speed ... the wind ... pushing yourself to your limits until you achieve what you set out to achieve.

Those people who are not so much into extreme sports look at just the ramp and ask WHY?

And so far as I can tell, it's because we all feel that freedom and expression of stretching and joy in completely different ways. For some of us, it's the challenge to program something more efficiently which works better, to design something more efficiently, to write something which captures a universal longing.

There's a million ways that we feel that need to express and share and push ourselves. And, not everyone is going to "get" all of those ways.

But when you're watching someone who truly loves their way of expressing ... well, to me, even watching Jake damn near kill himself, watching skateboarding for me is probably what listening to a really good symphonic orchestra playing Beethoven is to someone else.

Technorati tags:
Jake+Brown
X+Games
XGames
Skateboard

Posted by Red Monkey at 11:08 AM | Comments (0) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

July 30, 2007

Jesus Talks

This is a satirical post. If you are super-sensitive about religion, ya might not wanna read this post. In fact, I should probably rip off the intro to Kevin Smith's Dogma for this. Yeah ... yeah I should.

Disclaimer: 1) a renunciation of any claim to or connection with; 2) disavowal; 3) a statement made to save one's own ass.

Though it'll go without saying ten minutes or so into these proceedings, View Askew would like to state that this film is from start to finish a work of comedic fantasy, not to be taken seriously. To insist that any of what follows is incendiary or inflammatory is to miss our intention and pass judgment; and passing judgment is reserved for God and God alone (this goes for you film critics too...just kidding).

So please before you think about hurting someone over this trifle of a film, remember: even God has a sense of humor. Just look at the Platypus. Thank you and enjoy the show.

P.S. We sincerely apologize to all Platypus enthusiasts out there who are offended by that thoughtless comment about Platypi. We at View Askew respect the noble Platypus, and it is not our intention to slight these stupid creatures in any way. Thank you again and enjoy the show.

Okay, so this isn't a film and has nothing to do with Kevin Smith. But yanno ... sense of humour ... satire ... it fits ... really.

According to the BBC, Walmart will soon be test marketing a new line of action figures and toys in 425 of their 3300 stores in the U.S. I believe the toy line is called the Tales of Glory ... a Bible based set of action figures as well as a 12" (the "big" G.I. Joe size) talking Jesus doll who quotes scriptures and three inch high preschooler figure of Daniel and the lion's den.

I can see it now ...

Loki: Hey, Danny. Guess what I got for Christmas? I got the big collector edition of Optimus Prime and I got the new Spiderman playset and a stormtrooper blaster that fires pieces of potato. What'd you get?

Daniel: Well, I got Jesus for Christmas. (beat) Wanna hear him talk about fishing for men? (whispered) Do you think Jesus was gay? I mean, he's fishing for men ... and he only hung out with the disciples and they were all men.

Act NOW and get a BONUS tape for your Talking Jesus with fun quotes like these:

"Great, you got GOD for Christmas and all I got was a lousy manger full of hay. Do you have ANY idea how scratchy a bed of hay is?"

Coming soon:
Talking Paul ... he'll read you the book of Leviticus and remind you of such things as:
Don't play football (you can't touch the skin of a dead pig) (11)
Don't eat blood. (17:10)
And ... the story of the Good Samaritan will play every other time you pull Jesus' string! No more will you have peace as you blithely pass by the homeless begging for booze and food and work ... no more will you be able to pass a broken down car on the side of the road without your good little Christian children telling you that you should stop and help because Jesus SAID SO.

and soooooo much more!

Hurry, order your child's indoctrination today!

Posted by Red Monkey at 8:16 AM | Comments (3) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

July 21, 2007

Deathly Hallows - No Spoilers

It was excellent.

I need time to digest it and then go back and re-read it again ... I'm sure in my haste to finish it, I missed a LOT of Rowling's subtleties.

I will say ... I'm happy, I'm satisfied ... it all made sense without any of the annoyances of the locked room mysteries which neglect to give the reader some vital piece of information so the reader couldn't possibly figure it out.

There were, perhaps, not the utterly stunning surprises that tricked me in early books ... but that was because I'd become a much more cautious reader than before. It's easy to think you know how Hollywood does things ... and be surprised when a movie doesn't follow the formula (it happens so bloody rarely). But the ever clever Rowling had so many beautiful touches that I did not expect ... and yet, really, i should have. It was all there.

At any rate ... an excellent read. If you haven't read the books, they are worthwhile. And the ending ...

it's the ending.

(What about Snape? .... ain't tellin!)

Technorati tags:
Harry+Potter
J+K+Rowling
Rowling
Deathly+Hallows
Potter

Posted by Red Monkey at 2:04 PM | Comments (0) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

July 20, 2007

Buffy-Fest 2007

Which is not quite the same as Slayer-Fest 1998 ... but close.

When you gonna get this, B? The life of a slayer's very simple:

Want
Take
Have

Posted by Red Monkey at 9:14 AM | Comments (1) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

July 18, 2007

Tuff Guy

Yeah ... what a tuff li'l hombre in my boots and cowboy hat with the vest mom made me. The skirt, of course, was relegated to the floor of the closet the instant I saw it. What righteous cowboy wears a frigging SKIRT?

hehehehe

Posted by Red Monkey at 4:36 PM | Comments (1) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

July 7, 2007

Notre Damn Strikes Back

Well, Notre Damn didn't really strike back, but it sounded like a good title.

I just had to share this tidbit as I was perusing my stats (which I forgot to look at for about the last three months). Someone from Toledo, Ohio, hit my site with this search string in Google:

who called Notre Dame "Notre Damn"

LMFAO

I'm the third hit on Google for that string. It goes to this little story, which I'll repost now, because, well, it makes me laugh still.

I hate the telephone. I was never one of those teenagers from whom you had to surgically remove the phone from the ear. In fact, once the internet really matured, I'd so much rather deal with an email or even an IM than the phone. Why? Well, I choose when to do my email or IM. The phone interrupts at any given moment with its shrill and demanding call.

Most of my friends know how much I hate the phone and so, we rarely get calls at our house ... so much so that it's become habit now to think "wow, what important thing has happened that someone had to actually call us?" when the phone rings.

So telemarketers really bug the crap outa me.

So, last night the phone rings and this young woman's voice comes piping out, "Hello, this is Muffy O'Donnell. May I speak with Red Monkey?"

Now about half the time if I don't recognize the voice or the name, I might just hang up. Friends who thought I would certainly recognize their voice have long since learned I don't recognize voices well. I figure hanging up now is saving the telemarketer time and money. They're not gonna get a damn thing out of me, so now they know and they can dial the next number on their list and maybe make some money off that mark.

If I'm in a decent enough mood, I might attempt to be polite. Last night was somewhere in between polite and really really onery. I decided to answer literally and honestly and see what happened. She asked if she could speak with Red Monkey and I answered:

"Sure."

Pause as she waits for me to put Red Monkey on the phone. "Hello?"

"Yes, we've done that part already."

I can now feel the confusion coming through the phone line. "Umm, well, is this Red Monkey?"

"Speaking."

"Oh, well, like I said, this is Molly Maguire and I'm a student here at the University of Notre Dame."

"I'm sorry."

Pause. "Hello???"

"I didn't go anywhere."

"Umm, so I'm a sophomore at Notre Dame and --"

"Yeah, I heard you the first time. I said I'm sorry. That's a pretty bad school."

"But ... what? But why? Why would you ... I'm sorry. It is not."

At this point I hung up out of kindness. The kid is likely trying to raise money for a school that has more money than most state school systems, and she's probably getting a small commission on each "sale" she makes. If I have to take the time to explain to her exactly why the education that she's getting there is deficient, well, she'll never make any money!

I'm curious to see if I get another phone call from them, though.

(Oh, and the title of this post? That's from an IM conversation I had right after I got off the phone. I was explaining to someone who had called and typo'd Notre Dame as Notre Damn. Given my feelings about that place, it seemed faaaar more appropriate!)

Apparently, however, this is an old stand-by for non-Notre Dame fans ... and, in fact, looking at some of the Google hits for just the "Notre Damn" search string, apparently it's a common typo.

Has ND ever called back? Yep. And, they sent me some bullshit letter about how lucky I am to work there, and shouldn't I give them money. I grabbed a Sharpie marker and told them to NEVER contact me again. They sent a letter apologizing (OMG, someone there knows HOW to apologize for something? AND has the decency to DO so?????) Alas, other departments still send me crap from time to time. It all goes in the recycling now.

Sad that it's still so painful. Maybe I'll get around to posting about that one day. Maybe not.

Posted by Red Monkey at 3:29 AM | Comments (2) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

July 3, 2007

Bagthorpes

I adore the Bagthorpes. And, having FINALLY placed hands on the elusive The Bagthorpe Triangle by Helen Cresswell, I must share a bit of the humour of this book ... whether you want it or not.

"I feel all of a frazzle," I told 'im. "As if my right arm don't know what my left leg's doing." It's 'orrible.

... Nor could anyone else [imagine such a thing]. Jack could not help wondering if your right arm needed to know what your left leg was doing. He tried mentally to connect up these two parts of his anatomy, and the effect was quite strange. He immediately abandoned the experiment, out of a real fear of ending up like Mrs Fosdyke.

Oh my, but I love these books. I think ... perhaps ... finally ... I have them all now. I've been haunting eBay and used bookstores for the last couple ... there are nine total, I think.

Not quite Harry Potter, of course, but FAR funnier. Then again, Harry Potter was never meant to be funny. (Can you tell I'm ready for July 21?)

Posted by Red Monkey at 2:43 AM | Comments (1) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

July 1, 2007

Stripes of Lies

I was a candy striper.

I admit it. I need the volunteer work points so that I could be in the Honors Society in high school. I'm not sure why I needed that, I never went to any meetings. Oh yeah, so that I could have a great transcript thingy to show colleges.

At any rate, myself, Kyungah (Janet) and Trisha worked Sunday mornings, 8 to noon. We attempted to be assigned to the children's wing, but alas, on Sunday morning they needed us to go all over the hospital.

Understand ... I was 15, I didn't want to be there, I didn't think anything we did was of any importance, and we didn't get paid.

We didn't have the world's best, most altruistic and helpful attitudes. Well, at least I didn't.

So, we wandered from nurse's station to nurse's station every Sunday morning. We were supposed to get a 15 minute break, but the cafeteria was right next to the "Pink Ladies" station ... the older, retired volunteers who would give us additional jobs. If we didn't manage to sneak into the cafeteria, we didn't get a break at all.

Breaks and "fairness" take on a great deal of importance at 15.

So, we began hanging out in the 4th floor auditorium for our breaks instead.

Now, one detail about me as a kid:
I made up stories.

Whether it was spinning a tale of utter fiction on paper and calling it the beginning of a novel or answering a friend's question with a totally implausible answer (and somehow, a straight face), I enjoyed making things up.

So ... bored out of my wits one day whilst doing the whole candy striping thing, I decided to have some fun with Trisha. We took our break in the 4th floor auditorium and someone had left a few lights on. Far from making it more comfortable, the room was now creepier than ever. And, for whatever mad reason, I decided to begin spinning some story-lies. I don't remember exactly how I started ... something about my parents being abusive and mean. No details, just generalities.

So, when I was seven, I just couldn't take it anymore. I went out to the shed in the backyard and got an ax. And I killed them both.

Oh, you did not, Red Monkey. Kyungah has been over to your house and met your parents before.

No, she met my adoptive parents. My birth parents are the ones I killed. But ... (I rubbed my face a little and with the anticipation of getting her to laugh, I started grinning ... I just couldn't keep a straight face any longer.) ... but my adoptive parents are starting to get on my nerves now. I'm thinking of doing them in too. You won't tell on me, will you?

What I hadn't really fully understood when I decided to tease Trisha with this story was that
One ... she was truly one of the most gullible people I'd ever met in my life.
Two ... umm, yeah. I should have noticed this part, but umm ... yeah. I was sitting under a can light. So I was lit from above and it was one of the very few lights in the room. I'm guessing the effect must have been rather creepy.

Of course, being me, I just couldn't comprehend that someone would buy this story, particularly not when I kept laughing through most of it. (Again, I couldn't see myself with that can light coming down ... in retrospect, I'm sure that between the lighting and the laughing, it was actually pretty creepy ... I mean, who laughs at that except serial killers?)

So, there was a knot of girls in high school, all seniors, who were just terrified of my little sophomore self. (Was a 10-12 school.)

But, as they say in the commercials, that's not all!

Stunned that Trisha believed me, I teased her mercilessly about it ... that is, on those few occasions I could talk to her ... she seemed to be avoiding me for some reason.

The last day of candy-striping, I had an excellent plan. One that would certainly let her know I was just teasing her.

I grabbed a plastic knife from some fast food place and then got out my mom's happy prismacolor art markers (they're not nearly as nice as my beloved Copics, but I don't think Copics were around then). I coloured the handle and part of the "blade" with a nice grey colour. And then added some red to the tip of the blade. If I remember correctly, I rather artfully let some red trail down the blade as well.

The last day of candystriping, before the start of high school, I "pulled the knife" on her whilst we were in the elevator. I know, I know. I thought it was funny. I was 15.

The look of utter terror on her face was umm, priceless at 15. I fell to the floor of the elevator, I was laughing so hard. I tossed the "deadly weapon" at her, which I think terrified her more as she did a funny little hop-skip out of the elevator. I honestly thought I was going to pee my pants I was laughing so hard.

I hauled that fake knife around high school for days, asking everyone and anyone if it looked even remotely real. No one thought it did, so of course, I teased Trish about it the few times I saw her.

Good thing that was before Columbine and all the rest. I'm sure I'd have been in mandatory, court-ordered counseling (at the LEAST) if that had happened today. But back then, at 15, that was truly the height of hilarity.

Poor Trish.

(Although you would think that someone who had asked me how the elevators worked and I gave some cock and bull story about the old fashioned elevator operators now being put in closets to pull on the ropes ... anything becomes light if you use enough pulleys and leverage ....
you would THINK that a person who'd been thru one of my silly explanations would have twigged that I was kidding her .... ahhhh, youth.)

Posted by Red Monkey at 5:56 AM | Comments (3) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

June 15, 2007

Dog Days

Fridays are the dog days at work right now ... last week I brought them both, and they were amazingly good. But I only brought both because I thought it would be the only doggy day. Now that it's a regular thing, I'm taking one dog every other week.

Yep, she's sitting on the desk in between me and the keyboard. Happy as can be.

Posted by Red Monkey at 7:42 AM | Comments (1) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

June 13, 2007

Things that Frighten Me

Whilst the car itself is "just" a Photoshop creation, apparently there are tailpipes out there for real (although I believe research has shown this particular one to be a fake, there's another image out there snapped from a cell phone which is probably legit).

Still ... frightening!

Posted by Red Monkey at 3:56 AM | Comments (5) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

June 8, 2007

But, OH, What a Ride

So, you've got muscular dystrophy. You can still do stuff. Ben Carpenter rode his motorized wheelchair all over Paw Paw, Michigan. And, as he was attempting to cross the street June 7, 2007, he got a wee li'l bit of a surprise.

The 911 calls flooded fast and furious into the Paw Paw dispatch. Ya see, a semi-truck started to go when the light changed. He couldn't see that Ben was in front of him.

No, don't panic. It was the best possible outcome. The 21 year old Ben got the equivalent of a roller coaster ride in his wheelchair. Pushing the semi up to 50 miles an hour down Red Arrow Highway ... a road I've been on many a time ... it winds back and forth, goes through the woods, and is essentially kinda hilly and woodsy ... anyhow, Mr. Semi Driver didn't know it, but Ben's hand grips managed to get caught in the grill, which meant that Ben had a great view (if he could stand the possibility of bugs in his eyes) as they zoomed through the countryside.

In fact, when all was said and done, Ben was just irritated cuz he spilled his pop. And if he's as addicted to the difficult to find Diet Vanilla Pepsi as I am, I don't blame him!

What I'm incredibly curious about is this ... how the HELL did the wheelchair managed to get facing the exact right way AND the hand grips get lodged exactly right to keep Ben essentially safe and enjoying the ride?????

BBC front page (well, it was on the front page for a while ... and I couldn't believe a local story hit there!)
Local News

Posted by Red Monkey at 12:39 AM | Comments (3) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Stumble

May 18, 2007

Don't Drink and...

Don't drink and park ...

Accidents cause people.

And, from Mastermind at Blogmad:
life is like a raw file. there's so much post processing to do...

Posted by Red Monkey at 5:07 AM | Comments (2) | People Say