If Jud drinks two (2) 20 oz. Diet Dr. Pepper's, one before and one during, a two hour conference call on regulatory compliance, how long until his bladder explodes? (please show your work)
Extra Credit:
1) If I were to leave my desk to visit the loo, how many seconds would it take before a senior manager would ask me a question on the call that I would then miss?
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
System(s) Failure
Technology of any sort, can be a delight, from the simplest machines to most complex bits of computerized automation. Heck, technology sent humankind to the moon but also sent other astronauts hurtling to their doom.
In my life, cars, cell phones, the cable box and computers are the bits of technology that frustrate me the most.
Cars I take for granted and expect them to work and reliably and get me from A-Z with gasoline, regular oil and other fluid changes and the odd tire replacement and brake job. But when the car is on the blink, then life changes remarkably. I am currently a one car enterprise, which is unusual. Normally I have the daily driver and then the former daily driver which is now the backup "hoop-dee". My daily driver is currently going through the change, and as I believe I have mentioned, I need a new daily driver. I will keep you posted.
Cell phones - oh, where to begin with this love/hate relationship? I like having a phone. I like the ability to communicate with family, a few friends and the local delivery food joints. Sadly, this is also the device that work uses to contact me at all hours of the day and night. And why does every dang app have to send me updates? Really? I want to use your service at my convenience and not be bombarded with every little tidbit that CNBC and Politico think I have to know right this second. It goes without saying that I don't use Twitter, as I think it would make me even more mental.
The cable box that I had with DirecTV was a wonder. Easy for me to use, set up recordings, manage them, etc. Charter seems to have taken a different approach and wants me to curse at their silver box of frustration. And I really don't like getting up to retrieve the remote that I have thrown at it, either.
My job is really not supposed to be too technical, and yet everything I do revolves around systems I don't own (and programmers I don't manage) working properly. When one of them goes wonky, my world spirals out of control quickly. My email is bombarded. My phone rings. Text messages come a'flying.
Such is life I suppose.
In my life, cars, cell phones, the cable box and computers are the bits of technology that frustrate me the most.
Cars I take for granted and expect them to work and reliably and get me from A-Z with gasoline, regular oil and other fluid changes and the odd tire replacement and brake job. But when the car is on the blink, then life changes remarkably. I am currently a one car enterprise, which is unusual. Normally I have the daily driver and then the former daily driver which is now the backup "hoop-dee". My daily driver is currently going through the change, and as I believe I have mentioned, I need a new daily driver. I will keep you posted.
Cell phones - oh, where to begin with this love/hate relationship? I like having a phone. I like the ability to communicate with family, a few friends and the local delivery food joints. Sadly, this is also the device that work uses to contact me at all hours of the day and night. And why does every dang app have to send me updates? Really? I want to use your service at my convenience and not be bombarded with every little tidbit that CNBC and Politico think I have to know right this second. It goes without saying that I don't use Twitter, as I think it would make me even more mental.
The cable box that I had with DirecTV was a wonder. Easy for me to use, set up recordings, manage them, etc. Charter seems to have taken a different approach and wants me to curse at their silver box of frustration. And I really don't like getting up to retrieve the remote that I have thrown at it, either.
My job is really not supposed to be too technical, and yet everything I do revolves around systems I don't own (and programmers I don't manage) working properly. When one of them goes wonky, my world spirals out of control quickly. My email is bombarded. My phone rings. Text messages come a'flying.
Such is life I suppose.
Monday, February 4, 2013
On Humor, Snarky Comments and being an Ass
The internet and its various methods of communicating to the world, whether publicly via Twitter or Facebook, privately in email, or semi-privately as on a blog such as mine can lead to issues.
In the past, on a former blog of mine, I got into it with a fellow blogger who read me the riot act for being a whingy middle class white dude with know idea of what life was really like. I had known this fellow online through our mutual blogs for a couple of years. He was very opinionated (I daresay even more than me) and more outspoken. He called me on the carpet. In retrospect, I think he was quite right. We continue to swap stories and communicate to this day. I value his insight into my little musings.
Another time a very smart and sassy teenager took me to task for what I thought was a humorous comment on her blog, and to which she took a few jabs at me. She was much more clever than I am witty and had quite a laugh or two at me.
It nice to have a certain anonymity here on the blog. I don't have many readers, and several that are know who I am. Maybe not well, but they at least know me. Some of them do know me, at least via my online presence on social media. A few I know in my daily existence. I would leave it to them to estimate if I am more or less myself on here or someone else altogether. I know that on social media I, like many others, try to craft a certain persona and only draw attention to those aspects of my life that I am proud of or want to share. I am sure that there is a lot in my life that they might have a prurient interest in but that I try to obscure and certainly would never publicize.
I can be snarky in my comments and posts, both here and elsewhere. Sometimes they are attempts at humor. Other times I may be an ass, whether intentionally or just because I haven't really thought through my actions. To quote Puck,
" If we shadows have offended,
2275Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream, 2280
Gentles, do not reprehend:
if you pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, 2285
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends."
In the past, on a former blog of mine, I got into it with a fellow blogger who read me the riot act for being a whingy middle class white dude with know idea of what life was really like. I had known this fellow online through our mutual blogs for a couple of years. He was very opinionated (I daresay even more than me) and more outspoken. He called me on the carpet. In retrospect, I think he was quite right. We continue to swap stories and communicate to this day. I value his insight into my little musings.
Another time a very smart and sassy teenager took me to task for what I thought was a humorous comment on her blog, and to which she took a few jabs at me. She was much more clever than I am witty and had quite a laugh or two at me.
It nice to have a certain anonymity here on the blog. I don't have many readers, and several that are know who I am. Maybe not well, but they at least know me. Some of them do know me, at least via my online presence on social media. A few I know in my daily existence. I would leave it to them to estimate if I am more or less myself on here or someone else altogether. I know that on social media I, like many others, try to craft a certain persona and only draw attention to those aspects of my life that I am proud of or want to share. I am sure that there is a lot in my life that they might have a prurient interest in but that I try to obscure and certainly would never publicize.
I can be snarky in my comments and posts, both here and elsewhere. Sometimes they are attempts at humor. Other times I may be an ass, whether intentionally or just because I haven't really thought through my actions. To quote Puck,
" If we shadows have offended,
2275Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream, 2280
Gentles, do not reprehend:
if you pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, 2285
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends."
As I court jester I fear I would have lost my head long ago.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Car Shopping
I have been scouring the Internet for months looking at European cars. Mostly Porsches, but also the odd BMW, Mercedes and Jaguar. I really want one.
Rationally, buying an older car of foreign manufacture is not a wise fiscal move. Having previously owned an old Land Rover and a BMW I have felt the sting of labor bills and the costly replacement parts.
It might make more sense to buy a new, cheap American or Korean econobox. But they are soulless. I cannot make an emotional connection with those vehicles.
What about a Honda or a Toyota, one might ask. The rugged dependability of those brands does appeal to that part of me that likes things to work with little conscious thought or effort. But I am not wild about them.
So my thoughts return to the cars from Europe. A BMW M5 with a manual gearbox. Maybe a 650i with the bizarre rear end. The newer Jaguar XK is sleek, but the residuals are scary. The SL500 is a nice car, but the body styles vary a great deal year to year, and the headlights look odd. Porsches are what I truly lust after, but am I setting myself up to become a statistic of I purchase a car with that much power and grace that I would be lulled into trying driving maneuvers that I would never contemplate in a lesser vehicle?
Let us hope that the Saab continues to find its way to work and back each day and that I continue to add to the car fund until I make up my mind and don't rush to buy something out of desperation or passion. The hangover from buying a car can be worse than a bad night out drinking.
Rationally, buying an older car of foreign manufacture is not a wise fiscal move. Having previously owned an old Land Rover and a BMW I have felt the sting of labor bills and the costly replacement parts.
It might make more sense to buy a new, cheap American or Korean econobox. But they are soulless. I cannot make an emotional connection with those vehicles.
What about a Honda or a Toyota, one might ask. The rugged dependability of those brands does appeal to that part of me that likes things to work with little conscious thought or effort. But I am not wild about them.
So my thoughts return to the cars from Europe. A BMW M5 with a manual gearbox. Maybe a 650i with the bizarre rear end. The newer Jaguar XK is sleek, but the residuals are scary. The SL500 is a nice car, but the body styles vary a great deal year to year, and the headlights look odd. Porsches are what I truly lust after, but am I setting myself up to become a statistic of I purchase a car with that much power and grace that I would be lulled into trying driving maneuvers that I would never contemplate in a lesser vehicle?
Let us hope that the Saab continues to find its way to work and back each day and that I continue to add to the car fund until I make up my mind and don't rush to buy something out of desperation or passion. The hangover from buying a car can be worse than a bad night out drinking.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
And Now, the Weather
It has been gray and rainy for quite some time now in my lil patch of the Deep South. I am certain that this is not the sort of thing that the Chamber of Commerce is pleased with, and I imagine that in some dimly lit office downtown there are people even now drafting memoranda to the National Weather Service seeking an explanation that does include any heretical references to "global warming."
With the forecast for snow being tossed out yesterday, children had hopes as high as on Christmas Eve hoping against hope that somehow snow would fall and school would be closed. No such luck. The morning broke rainy and cold, but the local forecasters were adjusting their models and tried to pinpoint the exact moment when the rain would turn to snow today.
We shall have to wait and see what happens. I like an occasional fall of snow. I prefer it to occur overnight, so I don't have to drive in it with the mighty throngs of fellow Southerners who have no idea how to drive when there is even a hint of snow.With my luck, though, whatever snow the descends will be about the time that I leave work, and the drive that normally takes 30 minutes will take hours. I can even imagine commuteres telling tales of their heroic trek through an inch (or less) of slush, and how poodle was even eyed as dinner in case a Donner party situation were to occur on the interstate.
Stay warm and dry, and if you see my car, steer clear. I won't have the traction control on because I need a thrill.
With the forecast for snow being tossed out yesterday, children had hopes as high as on Christmas Eve hoping against hope that somehow snow would fall and school would be closed. No such luck. The morning broke rainy and cold, but the local forecasters were adjusting their models and tried to pinpoint the exact moment when the rain would turn to snow today.
We shall have to wait and see what happens. I like an occasional fall of snow. I prefer it to occur overnight, so I don't have to drive in it with the mighty throngs of fellow Southerners who have no idea how to drive when there is even a hint of snow.With my luck, though, whatever snow the descends will be about the time that I leave work, and the drive that normally takes 30 minutes will take hours. I can even imagine commuteres telling tales of their heroic trek through an inch (or less) of slush, and how poodle was even eyed as dinner in case a Donner party situation were to occur on the interstate.
Stay warm and dry, and if you see my car, steer clear. I won't have the traction control on because I need a thrill.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
The Nerd Chronicles, Part mmxiii.xii
Or, "How I Spent My Christmas Vacation."
You might think that the recently divorced Jud would be the scamp and up to some sort of mischief that would bring a tear of joy to the eye of Bacchus, but no. I was, to use the vernacular, "getting my nerd on."
After Little One headed off to spend time with the EW, I hopped in the car and went off to the land of the palmetto, the low country boil, and shrimp and grits to do some research. I spend a couple of days in the state archives, assisted by a helpful and friendly staff, paging through volumes in the stacks, digging in the microfiche cabinets and looking for images of centuries old documents.
The sense of excitement and giddiness that I felt at times can be likened to that of a child at Christmas, as a piece of data fills a gap in knowledge. A hunch is confirmed - or dispelled - but then the truth is known and proven. One answer led to many more questions. My mind was often racing faster than I could take notes.
I would hop off from the microfiche reader and rush to the computer, look at something else, grab the pad, and then head to the map room to locate some ford in a small river in a district that no longer exists but has been split into counties. The time flew by. I took few breaks. I spent lunch eating in my car, or down the street at the waffle hut, drinking bad coffee and refilling my LDL cholesterol.
I took my dinners sitting at the bars of local eateries, a pint of beer or a glass of scotch before me, straining to read poor copies of documents from 1795 and making notes on a legal pad. Fortunately I was thoroughly engrossed so that no fellow patrons or bartenders tried to make witty banter with me. I felt curious glances at times, but chose not to be drawn into inane conversations with these passersby.
I also visited the state university's library and remarkable map collection, adding to my wonder and respect for librarians, archivists and their craft. I don't have the patience for all of the cataloging, arranging, filing and storage, but I do appreciate that they do, and have done it so well for so long.
After two days and nights, I headed out to find a Revolutionary War site where one of my ancestors had trod. I spent the best part of a day wandering along the river, trudging across muddy fields and wooded paths. I spoke with the ranger several times. As I was the only visitor enjoying the park that day, we had time to talk in depth about the formal research that has been conducted on the site over the years, the documentary history of the battle, and the state of preservation of the site. My father had been a park ranger, and it isn't too hard to tell if a ranger really loves what they do and if they really know much about the site where they work. This man was a student of his site. He had been there for 12 years and was well versed in its history, research, and the period as a whole. I was impressed.
I took lunch on the porch of the visitors center, eating cheese, crackers and an apple. It was a cold winter's day, fairly gray and windy, but beautiful nonetheless. Late in the afternoon, after an exchange of email addresses with the ranger and a parting wave, I headed towards the coast.
I went to a coastal city rich in history. I had known of it more for its importance in the Civil War, but it possesses a history much richer and deeper than that. The dichotomy of the present and the layers of the past was great fun. Amazing, fresh seafood was to be found, and the sun decided to come out and dance upon the water. I sat for some time watching boats sail in the harbor, dwarfed by a container ship that made its way in from parts unknown with its load of cargo.
I spent my New Year's Eve writing in the hotel. I had a ground floor room, so I heard the chirps of people locking and unlocking their cars all night. I was asleep early, probably by 2200. In the morning, I rose, went the gym, nibbled at the usual complimentary breakfast fare, then hit the road for home.
It was the best holiday I have had in years. I hope to have more and similar travels in the not too distant future.
You might think that the recently divorced Jud would be the scamp and up to some sort of mischief that would bring a tear of joy to the eye of Bacchus, but no. I was, to use the vernacular, "getting my nerd on."
After Little One headed off to spend time with the EW, I hopped in the car and went off to the land of the palmetto, the low country boil, and shrimp and grits to do some research. I spend a couple of days in the state archives, assisted by a helpful and friendly staff, paging through volumes in the stacks, digging in the microfiche cabinets and looking for images of centuries old documents.
The sense of excitement and giddiness that I felt at times can be likened to that of a child at Christmas, as a piece of data fills a gap in knowledge. A hunch is confirmed - or dispelled - but then the truth is known and proven. One answer led to many more questions. My mind was often racing faster than I could take notes.
I would hop off from the microfiche reader and rush to the computer, look at something else, grab the pad, and then head to the map room to locate some ford in a small river in a district that no longer exists but has been split into counties. The time flew by. I took few breaks. I spent lunch eating in my car, or down the street at the waffle hut, drinking bad coffee and refilling my LDL cholesterol.
I took my dinners sitting at the bars of local eateries, a pint of beer or a glass of scotch before me, straining to read poor copies of documents from 1795 and making notes on a legal pad. Fortunately I was thoroughly engrossed so that no fellow patrons or bartenders tried to make witty banter with me. I felt curious glances at times, but chose not to be drawn into inane conversations with these passersby.
I also visited the state university's library and remarkable map collection, adding to my wonder and respect for librarians, archivists and their craft. I don't have the patience for all of the cataloging, arranging, filing and storage, but I do appreciate that they do, and have done it so well for so long.
After two days and nights, I headed out to find a Revolutionary War site where one of my ancestors had trod. I spent the best part of a day wandering along the river, trudging across muddy fields and wooded paths. I spoke with the ranger several times. As I was the only visitor enjoying the park that day, we had time to talk in depth about the formal research that has been conducted on the site over the years, the documentary history of the battle, and the state of preservation of the site. My father had been a park ranger, and it isn't too hard to tell if a ranger really loves what they do and if they really know much about the site where they work. This man was a student of his site. He had been there for 12 years and was well versed in its history, research, and the period as a whole. I was impressed.
I took lunch on the porch of the visitors center, eating cheese, crackers and an apple. It was a cold winter's day, fairly gray and windy, but beautiful nonetheless. Late in the afternoon, after an exchange of email addresses with the ranger and a parting wave, I headed towards the coast.
I went to a coastal city rich in history. I had known of it more for its importance in the Civil War, but it possesses a history much richer and deeper than that. The dichotomy of the present and the layers of the past was great fun. Amazing, fresh seafood was to be found, and the sun decided to come out and dance upon the water. I sat for some time watching boats sail in the harbor, dwarfed by a container ship that made its way in from parts unknown with its load of cargo.
I spent my New Year's Eve writing in the hotel. I had a ground floor room, so I heard the chirps of people locking and unlocking their cars all night. I was asleep early, probably by 2200. In the morning, I rose, went the gym, nibbled at the usual complimentary breakfast fare, then hit the road for home.
It was the best holiday I have had in years. I hope to have more and similar travels in the not too distant future.
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