September 2013 Archives

outta here

I'm going to take a week off, folks.

If you find this leaves a hole in your life, call some exes and ask them to describe what the problem with you is.

gen-xers vs. millenials

"How exactly did I become the embodiment of everything you can't stand about millennials?" asked Darcy.

"Because you're within reach."

I had just sent her the following text out of the blue.

Gen X: abolished the dress code at work; invented smart phones; invented movie theatres with huge recliners and blankets and waiters; invented the Internet as we know it; invented telecommuting from home; abolished the bellbottom jeans the boomers inflicted upon the world.

You guys: shortened the word failure; lengthened the word creep; invented texting and phone calls in movie theatres; brought back your parents' jeans briefly, then decided you could do even worse and switched to skinny jeans that look ghastly on 99.79% of the world's population.

You're welcome. And we would appreciate an apology.

polar bears

I own a business where we all work remotely, so instant-messaging is a mainstay of our daily lives. For me, the ritual is this: I stagger downstairs in the morning. By this time, the east coast staff has been creating problems for three hours. I stagger over to my desk. I groggily jiggle the mouse. My presence switches from "Away" to "Online."


It's a chat ambush! I swear they coordinate their attacks. About seven hours later, I realize I haven't eaten or showered. I've taken to calling the chief offenders "polar bears." You know how polar bears stake out seals' air-holes in the ice, waiting to strike the moment the seals' heads pop out of the water? That. That's the exact feeling.

This is my view every morning.


sports fan pity

You know your team is sharting its bright yellow pants when your friends who are fans of other teams are consoling you with "Just think about the draft" in Week 3.

anyone need stocking stuffers?

I'm accustomed to getting packages from Amazon that I don't remember ordering. This is because when I awaken at night wanting, say, cashews, I groggily grab my iPad and order an 80 gallon drum of them.

When the girls next door recently had a party, their guests woke me up all night. I couldn't find any earplugs. I tried my best to sleep, but I kept being awakened by shrill hooting.

Two days later, I received 200 earplugs. Nay, 200 pair of earplugs.

photo 1.JPG

And an hour after that, I received 200 more.

photo 2.JPG

review: ios 7 design

In honor of the sometimes nearly unusable iOS 7, today I'm writing in off-white on white, and all normal indicators of key functionality and logical subordination




Apple fucked up something previously not fucked up.

Under the hood, I have no complaint, and I'm all for getting rid of the old buttony icons. But usability wise? I find myself constantly straining to differentiate icons that now have meaningless images, to

read wisps

of critical but nearly invisible text. And what turtlenecked idiot thought huge white backgrounds on an LED screen was a good idea? You have to turn the brightness to minimal just to avoid retinal scarring, and then when you launch an app, and believe me, you launch one as soon as possible to get iOS 7 out of your life, you have to turn the brightness back up. But dang, it sure is pretty. If you think this is pretty. ios7.png

Attention Apple designers: please stop masturbating at my expense.


In the last week, I've been scolded twice. Harshly rebuked, even. Was it by my employer? My parents? My girlfriend? No. It was by people taking money from me. And not the important ones, either. This is my lawn guy. This is a Goodwill worker.

You would think that a lawn guy with such delicate sensibilities that he complains about a single pile of dog poo would not, in fact, be the same guy who moves your poo-encrusted scoop from the ground to the main footpath on your new deck. Every. Single. Week.

But you would be wrong. Turns out only his feet matter. Don't you know who he is?

Now me, I'm not a class-warrior. I don't think someone's beneath me just because I pay them to do manual labor. I simply don't think they're above me.

psa: credit freeze

I put a freeze on my credit reports two years ago. Today, it paid off.

"We are unable to approve your request for a Bill Me Later account," writes the lender I've never heard of and from whom I most certainly did not ask for credit. "Because there is a freeze on your credit report."

Thank you, paranoia. Again.

Seriously, people, freeze your credit reports. It affects me 5 minutes and $30 a year.


I love my lesbian neighbors, Madam and Eve. I love them primarily for not being Percy, but also for inviting me to a lot of man-free parties. Sometimes they don't even need a bug or mouse killed.

Yes, the defenseless-female, "kill it! kill it!" schtick transcends sexual orientation. I don't know why this feels wrong, but it does. Perhaps I'm accustomed to killing things on demand as part of a larger campaign to get laid.

As for the parties, I enjoy the absence of men cooking all moisture and flavor out of hamburgers. I enjoy the absence of men, period. When a man shows up, I'm crushed. The only downside, really, has been my realization of just how many pretty ponytails pulled through baseball caps out there are attached to women to whom I’m as sexual as a doorstop. It's a lot.

i remember. not that you give a crap.

"If you like your health care plan, you can keep your health care plan."
— President Barack Obama, Aug. 11, 2009

"Per the Affordable Care Act, your health insurance plan will no longer be available after December."
— Letter from my insurance company, today

charts i wish my brother had drawn me

Not ordinarily known for the sagacity of his advice, my older brother, Russ, believes it's the quantity of the advice that matters, not the quality. He famously told young me that 1) there was no such profession as technical writing and that I would end up dealing drugs in the gutter, and 2) my first computer was an unforgivably stupid waste of money. Fortunately for all I now employ, by then I'd determined that Russ might just be a bit thick.

Nevertheless, he did once offer me exactly one brilliant piece of advice.

I was entering high school, and by that time he was well into dental school. He grabbed my notebook out of my hands and drew a graph representing the sum of what he'd learned in high school.


My god, did this ever prove true in most of life. Russ had introduced me to the concept of the point of diminishing returns. Of course, he called it the "retard line" that only the mentally deficient would cross, but the concept was the same.

I think about this chart all the time. Only the x-axis labels change as I get older. I thought of it just the other day, in the context of relationships. In honor of the chart's legacy, I've decided to dedicate this entire week to charts I wish my brother had drawn me. I'll add them to this post so the context is preserved.

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September 4, 2013


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September 5, 2013


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September 6, 2013


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September 10, 2013

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September 11, 2013



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September 11, 2013

Final charts!


moron taxonomy
stupid church signs
super bowl xl officiating
percy chronicles

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