Friday, March 30, 2007

What It's Really All About

Good news is such a rare find these days that when something truly heartwarming comes along, it's all the more special.  It's little moments like this that really define what life is really all about.  The simplest things in life; family, children, and love are all we really have when all is said and done, and this is a touching reminder of that.

 

 

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Thunder from Heaven

Apartment living has its benefits.  No maintenance and the like, but there are significant drawbacks; especially when you live in an older apartment building like mine. 

For the next 30 days, a crew of hardworking individuals will be waking me up at 7:30 in the morning by dropping what sound like bowling balls on the roof of my top-floor apartment.  So far the noises have sounded like the aforementioned sports equipment, a jackhammer, a hammer, footsteps from someone wearing 500 pound lead shoes, and a drill that sounds like nothing short of a NASCAR spec torque wrench.

I've had what appear to be Mexican Special Forces both rappelling off the roof and scaling ladders to peer in my windows, all under the guise of 'repair work.'

This morning, the thunderous cacaphony began promptly at 7:30 with a loud crash which scared the hell out of me and interrupted my very special, contemplative, ritual morning poop.  The shock was so severe that I nearly sustained sphincter damage from the hypersonic clenching reflex.

Upon returning home from work this evening I found my bathroom fan dislodged from the ceiling, my living room chandelier hanging loosely, cracks around my a/c registers, cracks in some of the walls and doorjambs as well as nails punched out of the ceiling plaster.

I don't know what the hell they're doing up there, but it's more like demolition work at this point.  They've managed to literally break my apartment open like a hardboiled egg.

My only succor at this point would be to see one or two of them tumble off in a suicidal plunge.  Oh well, a guy can dream.

Thursday, March 29, 2007

WWI Veteran Dies





Last female U.S. veteran of WWI dies - CNN.com

The last known surviving American female World War I veteran, a refined Civil War buff who in 1916 met with the secretary of the Navy to promote women in the military, has died. She was 109.

Monday, March 26, 2007

Dead Again

There was this case in the hospital’s intensive care ward where patients always died in the same bed and on Sunday morning at 11a.m., regardless of their medical condition.

This puzzled the doctors and some even thought that it had something to do with the supernatural. No one could solve the mystery as to why the deaths took place at 11 AM.

So a world-wide expert team was constituted and they decided to go down to the ward to investigate the cause of the incidents.

So on the next Sunday morning few minutes before 11 a.m., all doctors and nurses nervously waited outside the ward to see for themselves what the terrible phenomenon was all about. Some were holding wooden crosses, prayer books and other holy objects to ward off evil……..

Just when the! clock struck 11…

The supernatural power:

Vijay Singh, the part-time Sunday sweeper, entered the ward and unplugged the life support system & plugged in the vacuum cleaner.

Salt N' Pepa

Speaking purely as someone who grew up in the 80s, I must own these by law.

12 Cylons and 3 Customers

In the car business, potential customers are referred to as 'ups.' Usually this refers to one of two things; either you must get your rear end 'up' and go talk to them when you see them, or it's your turn and you're 'up.'

Some less capable salesmen think it refers to the near erection they get when they realize they may actually get a chance to sell a car, but that's not important at the moment. What matters is that in my journey through the car business I've discovered that there are really only three types of people in the world. You see, a car lot is much like a miniature representation of the world in that people are there looking at things they want to buy, and are forced to interact with other people to get them.

The first type is the most prolific. The smug asshole. To be fair, they come in two variants but are in fact the same assholic creature. One version refuses to acknowledge even the most polite greeting with anything more than a nod. This model will ignore you no matter what you say or how nice you are. They will ignore questions, comments, and probably close-proximity flatulence in their quest to actually humiliate you through lack of recognition almost as if they are either retarded or have no voicebox. They will however, spend an inordinate amount of time reading window stickers and looking at the most minute detail of every car on your lot all the while acting as if you (the lowly salesman) are an actual 6-foot-tall speaking hemmorhoid.

The second variation of this model will do much the same except they will show some initiative and get aggressive enough to be rude to you and tell you to go away after you say something intensely confrontational, like hello.

The second type of customer is the world-class compulsive liar. They will, without fail, promise to:

  1. Come back to buy tomorrow
  2. Go home and talk it over with their wife/husband
  3. Call you back
  4. Email you back
  5. Give you an actual downpayment
  6. Have a credit score high enough to not actually be laughed at by the finance department

Inevitably, these are all lies. Any budding car salesman out there would be better off knowing this. If they leave the lot, you will never see them again. Ever.

Lastly, you have the rarest type of customer. The honest to goodness nice person.This type of customer, while rare, is a necessity given to us in the business directly by God as the only thing that keeps us in a good enough frame of mind to continue to be salesmen. One or two a month and you have just enough faith in humanity to show up for work for another week.

These people will tell you exactly what they want, listen attentively and even give you factual information. They usually even give you a down payment figure that matches (egads!) the actual downpayment they are able to come up with.

I need more of them.


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Monday, March 19, 2007

South Park Remixed

This is awesome. South Park portraits like you've never seen.

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Bullcarp.

Just when you thought you'd heard it all:

A Chinese man is looking for a good home for his pet carp which he says is fully
trained.

Sunday, March 11, 2007

Alien Ink

This may be the coolest thing I've ever actually seen.

If The Love Glove Doesn't Fit

OJ Simpson is now claiming he might be the father of Anna Nicole Smith's child. Now that the Butcher of Brentwood has added his name to the exponentially growing registry, it seems reasonable to conclude that every male in the United States able to function sexually has at one time or another managed to get a lil somethin' going on with her.

From the sound of it, her 'privates' saw more 'action' than the U.S. Marine Corps on any given day.

With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility

This may be the pinnacle of human engineering. I'd find it a fitting irony if at some point in the distant future, long after the collapse of human civilization, a wayfaring alien race finds this: the sole remaining artifact of humanity.


Robotic Beer Launching Refrigerator - Celebrity bloopers here

We've Reached the Summit of Mt. Nerd

I know it's been around since the dawn of technology itself, but did you ever take a minute to notice (mostly trolling around in comment threads on Digg) how comically stupid it is to actually come to the verbal equivalent of fisticuffs over what computing platform someone chooses to use?

Really people, this is just juvenile. No, it's beyond that. We passed juvenile years ago. We're somewhere behind the lines of the astonishingly stupid liberation army.

I like Macs. I like using Vista. (and on an actual PC, not in Parallels.) I'm ok with that. I just read a thread on Digg where people were actually questioning a poster's intelligence and even sexuality because he used Internet Explorer 7 with the Yahoo toolbar installed on Vista.

So...by extraction it seems that in order to prove your heterosexuality on the internet one must:
  1. Use Firefox
  2. Use Thunderbird
  3. Use OSX
  4. Use Ubuntu
  5. Install Ubuntu onto every electronic device capable of loading an OS including your alarm clock, if at all possible
  6. Absolutely and positively refuse to pay for any software.

Why? Because failure to meet these requirements will actually turn you into a raging homosexual. Really. Use IE7 and you will wake up in bed with Bruno and vaseline smeared all over your ass.

This raging fanboy circlejerk stuff is getting out of hand. I mean, what's next? People who prefer Pepsi to Coke are all dyslexic? I actually feel dumber now for taking the time to even mention this.

Friday, March 9, 2007

Post Traumatic Snowfall Disorder

Ever since the accident in November I've noticed a difference in my ability to ride in and drive cars. I think I've got some automotive-induced variant of PTSD which, as a car salesman, isn't the greatest malady to suffer from. I'm now fully convinced that every time I ride in the passenger seat, we're going to crash. (Note: I was driving during the accident.)

I've also noticed that I'm nearly incapable of driving in foul weather. (Note: the weather was clear during the accident.) The mere thought of getting behind the wheel of a car with snow or slush on the ground is enough to give me the beginnings of a bowel-churning anxiety attack.

The other day on the way in to work, in no less than a snow squall, I realized mid-way there that I was in a near zen-like state of intense concentration. My grip on the steering wheel by all rights should have broken it. I probably could have teleported myself and the car to work just by harnessing the sheer willpower I was devoting to the mantra 'do not crash.'

I'm pre-occupied with sliding off the road, people pulling out in front of me blindly (like the accident), and being slid into by another car. It's actually quite difficult to cope with, but I've been able to squeak by so far.

I wonder if this actually could be some mild form of PTSD, or if I've just got a case of the jitters. It's been 5 months, I kind of think I should be over it by now.

Sunday, March 4, 2007

Day of Reckoning

For the past several weeks I've been down with a pretty rough case of the flu. Some pretty big things have changed in that time. I got another car, a new laptop (with Vista even), and today...I turn 30.

My kids just surprised me with a hand-colored birthday card. They're the most wonderful, special kids and I don't think I'd be as ok with this birthday if I didn't have them. Watching them grow takes the focus off of me hitting the magic (some say evil) number.

The flu's been a damned nightmare. I've literally been coughing almost nonstop and I'm really quite tired of it at this point. It's made selling cars a little more difficult to be sure. Nothing like trying to explain a car to someone then taking a moment to cough until you almost throw up. Customers like that. Really.

At least sharkie's gone at work. The Great White Car Shark was royally Roy Scheidered after he refused to help with some vehicles on the lot, and then to sign the reprimand he was going to get.

Combine the above with my new (used) car and my new (new) Vista laptop, and you have my life in a nutshell at this point.

That's enough of this, I'm going to be 30.