Russian Scientists, Dryer Buzzers, Sneezing and Online Dating

I have decided to do a mail bag of random ideas because they've been building for a while now. I have watched too many movies on Netflix and not written enough blog entries. That and I've been busy saving the world from drug traffickers that use fiber-glass submarines made by Russian scientists in the jungle. Yep. Get R' Done.

First. Dryer buzzers. Perhaps the most pleasant sound to ever caress my eardrums at 1:00am. It's not like that lovely, full-toned blare you get from an air horn, but more like a melodious screech from a buzzard two octaves higher and more prolonged, combined with your favorite little kid screaming for no apparent reason. Oh, or maybe it happens because your clothes are dry. Which they may not be. In which case, thank you dryer buzzer, you saved my life.

Moving on.

Sneezing is satisfying. And while I don't necessarily buy into the 8 sneezes equals an orgasm philosophy, I did just sneeze while writing this sentence and it was great. However, so often sneezes are taken from us. Like childhood innocence. Or the last cookie. Or our favorite TV show. Or our favorite, obscure, extended family member. Quite often we are left with "the sneeze that never was." It would make for a great book title if it didn't bring with it so much anguish and raw emotion. If you don't follow me, allow me to illustrate. So there you are, walking around, doing that thing you do when you're walking around, when you a) accidentally stare at the sun (right, like you can accidentally stare you idiot), b) are doing some spring cleaning and you get some choice dust in your schnoz, c) are presented with an Angorran chinchilla that has the most allergenic dander known to man and you think you're about to sneeze....but you don't. For whatever reason you can't. You come right to the precipice of sneezing, and then in an unfortunate turn of events, can't make the final leap to actually sneezing and ending all that pent up whateverness. Sad day for you. But, on the bright side, given that you didn't sneeze, you didn't give your friend, or the stranger sitting next to you, that ebola virus that you know you have.

Dating online. So I know this guy who does this. He says it's because he's busy, but I know the truth. He's a loser. At any rate, he scrolls through all the profiles but is amazed at the trickiness of the people on the site. The profile pictures make most of the ladies look like some type of Greek goddess, or at least someone that might be classified as cute, or even normally attractive to a man...or a woman who is attracted to attractive women. But then there is the second picture, and the third. And then all of a sudden they gain 50 pounds, a mustache (which can be fetching), and are now 43 years old and have 6 kids. I have always been amazed by the ability of all women to find pictures with just the right angle, lighting, pose, time of year, etc. that makes them look like Aphrodite incarnate. But, they then foil their plans by posting a picture of themselves the morning after their cage fight with a lumberjack and a bear who seemingly both weighed less and were fighting her only because she was mad that they were more photogenic. But if that were all, that would be enough. To top it off, they then put multiple pictures of their cat(s), dog(s), landscapes, feet, other people, or prior boyfriends and/or husbands. While I find all of this attractive, some guys, strangely, do not.

So there are my latest thoughts. I'm not putting up any funny pictures because I think the words paint funnier pictures in your head. Yes words can paint. Good Day Sir!

Toothpicks Saved My Mouth

Aha moments are great. For instance, have you ever been reading a ton of articles online, or been tweeting on your PDA phone, then switched for a older ancestor on paper and then all of the sudden realized, "What are these strange things called books...I like them," or "Shoot I never knew I could read this stuff in a printed newspaper!"?

Well a similar thing has happened to me recently. I brush and floss regularly. Some of you might be happy to hear that. Well, for as much as I brush and floss there always seems to be a little spot or two of tarter I cannot get a handle on. I had tried everything. From several different varieties of floss, toothpaste, and toothbrushes, to alien dentists and jackhammers. Well, none of those strategies worked. So as I was leaving a restaurant in Georgetown, I asked the waitress for some wet naps and toothpicks. They didn't have wet naps so she heated up a napkin for me (not unlike hot towels on airlines when you are flying first class, which I haven't yet). But it was the toothpicks that were the revelation. When I tried to get the tarter off... VOILA! Turns out a mint flavored splinter took care of business in no time. Well, now I'm going to make sure toothpicks are a staple with my other dental hygiene products.

And now, cool toothpick sculptures:

yeah.

Too much time on your hands. Get a life.

Awesome!

Toothpicks. Who knew? 

PS - Shut up if you knew. It was rhetorical.

Who can say no to a product packaged with green lips called hotlix?

Wishing you a happy bday from Facebook

By now you should be familiar with Facebook. It is the soul-swallowing leviathan of online social networking. And yes, it has swallowed my soul. Fortunately, or unfortunately, I'm not alone. This brings comfort and distress. But, there are good things that come from Facebook. 

One good thing is that for some people, the only benefit to being my Facebook friend is getting a happy birthday wall post once a year. That is a boon. Having actual meaningful more commonplace interaction would be stifling. The 'happy bday' wall post is my classic way of saying, "I can read the reminder list on the right side of my home page and type in all lowercase one and a half words and click my mouse once." But some people are more blessed than others in this bestowal of positive birthday wishes. For people I don't know all that well, or let's be honest, don't care too much about, I usually just write "happy bday," copy and paste it and post it on the next wall of a similar acquaintance. However, for those people who I actually know and love I might even write something like, "Happy birthday John," or "Hope you have a good one chief." As you can see, in both of these instances I actually capitalize some letters, and even write a complete sentence. The message is individualized with the name, or an endearing pseudonym like 'chief,' 'slugger,' 'tiger,' or 'kiddo.'

The yearly birthday wish may seem trivial to some of you, but I suggest that it is more than what I alluded to. Think of it as self-validation. Think of it as an honest expression from someone who actually exists and also recognizes that you exist, and, even have a birthday. Sure you put your birthday in your profile information so I don't have to really remember it, but I did take the time to write one and a half words on your wall. I didn't hire any robots or spiders or other spam systems to do it for me. My fingers actually pressed down on the keys. Really. You're welcome.

But of course that isn't to say that I only validate humans. How many of you are friends with dogs or other pets? Me too.

The Real Robot Revenge: Part 1

Machines have been edging people out of the workplace since… machines existed …and there was a workplace. The Industrial Revolution just took it to the extreme. Specialization. Ford assembly lines with conveyor belts. Machines are just better at making machines. But are the service industries in danger, too?

Busy people want convenient technological tools and toys. Raise your hand if you’ve ever walked into a Starbucks and thought some dude was talking to you, only to come to the shameful realization that he was wearing a Bluetooth headset and was on a long-distance conference call with the Japanese CEO of whatever, inc. Yesterday’s phones allowed you to skip all that nasty face-to-face, eye-to-eye human contact. Today’s cell phones let you do it on the go. Better yet, send a text message. Now you don’t even have to listen to that disgusting human voice.

Just look at this guy. The new business professional is a sleek cyborg. I don't use words like "douche" in civilized blog posts.

I dream of the day that I can wake up, live a full day, and return home without seeing another person.

Tinted windows. Noise-canceling headphones. Online shopping. Every day my dream gets closer and closer. It’s obvious that other people share the dream, because the marketplace is responding. Whether you realize it or not, you’re a victim of the very real robot revenge.

Smart Tags. EZ pass. Alright, paying tolls stinks. But now you don’t even get to hand your money to that cheerful, hardworking whoever and compliment her on her matching neon-yellow reflective vest and jumpsuit. Just stick this little electronic transmitter thingy on your windshield and every time you pass through the fast lane to get on or off the toll road your account number is beamed up to the mother ship where you are charged accordingly. The machines track your progress. The Matrix has you.


The self-checkout. I thought ATMs were just the next logical step from Cola vending machines. Combine the two and you get a machine that can take your money, run a transaction, and ask you if you want cash back. “No, thanks. I’m on a tight budget.” No reply. You can walk in, purchase, and walk out without even stepping into earshot of another person, if you’re lucky. Forget about service with a smile...shiny buttons! Sometimes I don’t place my items in the bagging area at the self-checkout just so I can hear that sweet, ladylike machine voice admit that it needs human assistance. “Whew…thought I was all alone in here.” After the nuclear Holocaust the only things left will be Hondas and cockroaches. But if a Safeway supermarket survives the boom, I’ll still be able to buy my groceries. Those touch screens are nifty!

Calling the movie theatre the other day brought my attention to another front on the battlefield of Man vs. Machine. After literally five or six sub-directories and menus, which I navigated through using my keypad (machines speak in numbers), some recording told me some show times and then hung up on me. For serious? All I wanted was someone to talk to. Someone to hold me and tell me everything is going to be alright.

When I called FedEx to figure out where I needed to go to ship a last-minute package towards the end of the business day, the machine lady actually asked me for the name of a town or city and it’s corresponding zip code. Then she asked me to answer a couple of simple “Yes” or “No” questions. Oh, great. Voice recognition is now allowing the machines to imitate our good manners and conversational charm. Now they’re here to stay.

An Anonymous Death

Ok. I'm all for anonymous donations to charitable causes, and anonymous gifts to deserving individuals, but to an extent anonymity freaks me out. I mean, when you meet someone, generally you exchange names. To me, it's a little bit more than just a formality, but it allows me to say, "I met, or I know him/her/it." However, at least to date, I've never gone to a dinner party and had someone introduce themselves as "anonymous." Except that one time, and it was on his name tag, and he also wore a bag on his head and claimed to be mute. But that case aside, names are good. They provide comfort, not unlike a warm fire on a winter's day, or a lock on your front door before you go to bed.

Now to the point. Online people like to protect their identity. I get that. But I would prefer a lie than someone posting as "anonymous." I mean c'mon. Posting online is fun! Imagine how much more fun it could be with a new name. Let's say you hate your name, or, perhaps dislike your parents, well guess what? Now it's your chance to stick it to them. Those of you named Ug, Chesterfield, Nubby or Adolf can fight the system! Now Ug can be Sean, Chesterfield can be William, Nubby can be Chase and Adolf can be Bobby. Think of the possibilities! Liberate yourself and post with a new name. No more will you have to sit in the back of class and mumble when your name is called! No more will you bashfully write your name in size 4 font on the nametag stickers! No more are you Ug! Say no to anonymity, and live life with the name you deserve!