Monday, March 31, 2008
Lies
As I was writing it, the Tigers went up 1-0. I retract Bold Prediction number 2. Fear the Tigers. They are hungry and they have lots of teeth. Check the metaphor, and no, I haven't been drinking.
The story so far...
Yanks are in a rain delay. Awful, just awful. But Jeter is having a recorded version of Bob Shepherd announce him for his at bats. Class act.
Detroit is in the bottom of the second with Kansas City, and so far the score is 0-0, leading me to one of two conclusions:
1) The Tigers aren't the juggernauts that were destined to score 1500 runs. Because these are the Royals...come on.
2) Wow, the Royals might be really good this year, because damn, they've gone toe to toe with the Tigers for two innings!
I say all of this in jest. It's the first game of the season, and while I'm buying into the hype of the Tigers, it's all on paper, and they still have to get it done for themselves...more as the season develops.
-Jobimoto out
"The Tigers will devour the AL Central, and not make it past the ALDS - Bold Prediction 2"
Detroit is in the bottom of the second with Kansas City, and so far the score is 0-0, leading me to one of two conclusions:
1) The Tigers aren't the juggernauts that were destined to score 1500 runs. Because these are the Royals...come on.
2) Wow, the Royals might be really good this year, because damn, they've gone toe to toe with the Tigers for two innings!
I say all of this in jest. It's the first game of the season, and while I'm buying into the hype of the Tigers, it's all on paper, and they still have to get it done for themselves...more as the season develops.
-Jobimoto out
"The Tigers will devour the AL Central, and not make it past the ALDS - Bold Prediction 2"
It's the most wonderful time of the year
That's right. It's Opening Day. The REAL Opening Day - Opening Day at Yankee Stadium. The last Opening Day at Yankee Stadium.
I can already hear you idiots now, "But Jobi, baseball already opened! The Red Sox played! In Japan no less!" Don't care, and allow me to use "18 and 1," in a baseball context...yeah, you will be hearing that a lot this year.
Yeah, all that crap happened, but I cannot begin to tell you how little that matters to me. Even when the Yankees opened in Japan a few years ago, I felt cheated, not because Opening Day is any less of an event because it takes place in a foreign country, but because the games took place at like, 6:50am and there were fans there, but I guarantee you not the type of fans that have been drinking for 5 days in anticipation of what is, without a doubt, the most wonderful time of the year, because on Opening Day, anything can happen. Your team can easily be in first place and have a shot, mathematically, at winning 162 games. Even a 33 year old journey man, having a great game, will be projected after Opening Day to hit 250 Home Runs, drive in 374 RBI, hit .750, etc etc. It is a great day, because if you play the numbers game, which only holds up until reality rears its ugly head, your team is an unstoppable juggernaut.
And if you lose...who the fuck cares? There's still 161 games left, you idiots. Don't bring your smack talk over here just because you'll be in first for maybe three days. Morons.
GOD I LOVE BASEBALL!
-Jobimoto out.
"PLAY BALL!"
I can already hear you idiots now, "But Jobi, baseball already opened! The Red Sox played! In Japan no less!" Don't care, and allow me to use "18 and 1," in a baseball context...yeah, you will be hearing that a lot this year.
Yeah, all that crap happened, but I cannot begin to tell you how little that matters to me. Even when the Yankees opened in Japan a few years ago, I felt cheated, not because Opening Day is any less of an event because it takes place in a foreign country, but because the games took place at like, 6:50am and there were fans there, but I guarantee you not the type of fans that have been drinking for 5 days in anticipation of what is, without a doubt, the most wonderful time of the year, because on Opening Day, anything can happen. Your team can easily be in first place and have a shot, mathematically, at winning 162 games. Even a 33 year old journey man, having a great game, will be projected after Opening Day to hit 250 Home Runs, drive in 374 RBI, hit .750, etc etc. It is a great day, because if you play the numbers game, which only holds up until reality rears its ugly head, your team is an unstoppable juggernaut.
And if you lose...who the fuck cares? There's still 161 games left, you idiots. Don't bring your smack talk over here just because you'll be in first for maybe three days. Morons.
GOD I LOVE BASEBALL!
-Jobimoto out.
"PLAY BALL!"
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
The [New] American Way, or: You Gotta Be F'ing Kidding
No one's posted in a while, and you know why? Because we're under the heel of the damn boot that is the American workforce. We are wage slaves, or more accurately, salary slaves in the case of my cohort and I. But who really gives a toss? It's the same thing, we show up every day, clock in, and our main goal is not to get yelled at too much, or not have to do anything too degrading to keep our jobs (such as tell clients directly, "Yes, I really do care about your problems and they WILL be fixed, by God!") - all so that, if we're lucky, we can fuck around for fifteen minutes and not have to face the grim reality: we are sliding ever faster down a slippery slope.
At the bottom of this chasm is adulthood and real life waiting with open jaws, sharp teeth, and waggling tongue - all of it looking shockingly like the Great Pit of Carkoon, the resting place of the ever hungry Sarlacc. Boba Fett got out, but he had Mandalorian Combat Armor, a disintegrator, concussion grenade launcher, and a jet pack. How the fuck am I am ever going to get out? I have a B.F.A. in Acting and minors in computer science and English. Unless I hit it big, I am stuck. Hell, I would trade hitting it medium just to get out of the tedium which is this nine to five (or more accurately, nine until whenever the hell I finish).
This whole scenario is the old American way, nothing shocking about it, not in the least. But there is a new American way, my friends, and it comes to you dressed in false hopes and in the guise of progress. The new American way is the backhanded promotion, full of responsibility, but with no authority, and of course, no pay increase. It's a target on your back people - a big red bullseye that says, "SHOOT THIS IDIOT FIRST!" I am wearing several right now, and everyone from Corporate Snipers to petty thugs seems to be licking their chops. I am the camel in the desert, slow as shit and headshots like a motherfucker. No leading required...stationary targets are fun. I say this only because I was on a conference call yesterday with the client and the helpdesk, catching flak from them while simultaneously getting yelled at by several of my employees over IM. And the office cat wanted his belly scratched...everyone's a critic. I'm 25...and you're telling me this is what I have to look forward to for the next 40 years? Excuse my while I refill my mug and sweeten it with my tears of joy...
In other news, Baseball officially kicked off in Japan the other day, and I had intended a post to talk a ton of shit about the Red Sox and also the A's and their moneyballin' ways. Let me sum it up like this: Thank God for the beginning of baseball, because in April, you still believe anything can happen. I hate the Red Sox, but they are a bunch of class acts for refusing to go to Japan unless their coaches got paid the money they were promised. However, why the hell these guys need what is essentially my year's salary for a short trip to Japan is beyond me. And the A's suck, classically. They have teams that make great runs during the regular season built around smart choices, inexpensive players, and young talent, but they never make the full run, always lose in the playoffs (when they make it) and have a mass exodus of young talent every year because they can't afford to keep these guys. Bravo, really, keep up the good work. There is no argument for huge inflated payrolls, as my beloved Yanks have missed the Series completely for four straight years, and the Mets, well, those sorry boys just don't know how to win...even I felt bad for them last season. Anything short of them making the World Series this year results in some major re-engineering of the team...bold prediction of the season number one. Many more to come...
Bold Prediction 2: Yanks in 5.
At the bottom of this chasm is adulthood and real life waiting with open jaws, sharp teeth, and waggling tongue - all of it looking shockingly like the Great Pit of Carkoon, the resting place of the ever hungry Sarlacc. Boba Fett got out, but he had Mandalorian Combat Armor, a disintegrator, concussion grenade launcher, and a jet pack. How the fuck am I am ever going to get out? I have a B.F.A. in Acting and minors in computer science and English. Unless I hit it big, I am stuck. Hell, I would trade hitting it medium just to get out of the tedium which is this nine to five (or more accurately, nine until whenever the hell I finish).
This whole scenario is the old American way, nothing shocking about it, not in the least. But there is a new American way, my friends, and it comes to you dressed in false hopes and in the guise of progress. The new American way is the backhanded promotion, full of responsibility, but with no authority, and of course, no pay increase. It's a target on your back people - a big red bullseye that says, "SHOOT THIS IDIOT FIRST!" I am wearing several right now, and everyone from Corporate Snipers to petty thugs seems to be licking their chops. I am the camel in the desert, slow as shit and headshots like a motherfucker. No leading required...stationary targets are fun. I say this only because I was on a conference call yesterday with the client and the helpdesk, catching flak from them while simultaneously getting yelled at by several of my employees over IM. And the office cat wanted his belly scratched...everyone's a critic. I'm 25...and you're telling me this is what I have to look forward to for the next 40 years? Excuse my while I refill my mug and sweeten it with my tears of joy...
In other news, Baseball officially kicked off in Japan the other day, and I had intended a post to talk a ton of shit about the Red Sox and also the A's and their moneyballin' ways. Let me sum it up like this: Thank God for the beginning of baseball, because in April, you still believe anything can happen. I hate the Red Sox, but they are a bunch of class acts for refusing to go to Japan unless their coaches got paid the money they were promised. However, why the hell these guys need what is essentially my year's salary for a short trip to Japan is beyond me. And the A's suck, classically. They have teams that make great runs during the regular season built around smart choices, inexpensive players, and young talent, but they never make the full run, always lose in the playoffs (when they make it) and have a mass exodus of young talent every year because they can't afford to keep these guys. Bravo, really, keep up the good work. There is no argument for huge inflated payrolls, as my beloved Yanks have missed the Series completely for four straight years, and the Mets, well, those sorry boys just don't know how to win...even I felt bad for them last season. Anything short of them making the World Series this year results in some major re-engineering of the team...bold prediction of the season number one. Many more to come...
Bold Prediction 2: Yanks in 5.
Blue Light Special on Eat my $#!T, isle 42.
Following up with J's "WTF topic of the day" I came across a rather sickening article today. Talk about one steaming heap of flaming bad luck dropped on your doorstep with a note attached made of coal and uranium with writing etched in boiling blood saying: "Your lives are hereby forfeit. Have a nice day. - WalMart A.K.A America" and when you look up you see a Lamborghini peeling out of your driveway with the WalMart Smiley Face flicking a cigar out the window and flipping you the bird.
Wow. Just: wow. Way to be the biggest dick imaginable, WM. I'm sure they're reasoning goes something along the lines of "Well, if we shelled out for every unfortunate sucker who gets nailed by a truck and has a living being sprung forth from their womb blown to bits halfway across the world (and has to constantly re-live being told that for the first time due to the injury), where would our company be then?" I think you mean to say "How will I get my 7th iPhone, my 5th house slave, my upgraded fantasy package from my call-girl service, and my plot of land on the future Mars mining colony this year then?" Why not just come out and say it? You've already got your head far enough up your ass that you can see what all those complimentary doughnuts are doing to your arteries, you just look like more of an idiot trying to mask your fuck-headed nature at this point. But hey, watch those falling prices, right?
In other news, I found a steal of a bargain on a new MP3 player. I currently have a 1gb Creative Muvo which I nabbed way back in the day for about $140. That's kind of disgusting to think about nowadays, but this was about 4 years ago when the only other real option were $300 iPods or similarly priced Creative alternatives. I'll tell you what: my Muvo rocks. This thing is still pounding away and will kick the shit out of an iPod shuffle any day of the week with its *gasp!* lcd screen so I can see what I'm listening to and actually change settings, it's FM tuner, Equalizer presets, line-in recorder, voice recorder, and folder-mode playlist sorting. And it came with a rubber slip cover/belt clip AND armband. I'm definitely keeping it as my workout MP3 player, but......
Well, lo and behold 4 years later and I'm dicking around on the internet and I find this. Please also check out the CNET review. I went with the 8gb refurbished model for $95. "Oh, no, B-Moto, not REFURBISHED!" Yes, refurbished. I've got so many refurbed tech products for massive discounts that have NEVER caused problems, it's not even funny. In fact, I have never had any refurbed gear that has gone bad. Granted, I only get gear from manufacturers that I know make quality products to begin with, but still. So, compared to this model's direct competitor, the iPod Nano, I can firmly say again:
Eat my shit, Apple.
I'll put up a more specific review once I get the thing, but just look at the specs. Beautiful screen, customizable interface, excessive non-proprietary software/data format compatibility, SD card slot expansion capability, FM tuner, Voice recorder, and half the price of the nano. If you MUST be a slave to trends, maintain your hipster status, and feel like you can justify sacrificing all those nice features for a touch-scroll wheel (Though I'll admit, it's pretty nice, and I don't know why Creative decided to do away with their competing touch-scroll bar), then you can save a little pocket change and sell yourself to Apple for a little less than usual.
That's all for today. PEACE!
- B-spot out.
"No, you touch it"
Wow. Just: wow. Way to be the biggest dick imaginable, WM. I'm sure they're reasoning goes something along the lines of "Well, if we shelled out for every unfortunate sucker who gets nailed by a truck and has a living being sprung forth from their womb blown to bits halfway across the world (and has to constantly re-live being told that for the first time due to the injury), where would our company be then?" I think you mean to say "How will I get my 7th iPhone, my 5th house slave, my upgraded fantasy package from my call-girl service, and my plot of land on the future Mars mining colony this year then?" Why not just come out and say it? You've already got your head far enough up your ass that you can see what all those complimentary doughnuts are doing to your arteries, you just look like more of an idiot trying to mask your fuck-headed nature at this point. But hey, watch those falling prices, right?
In other news, I found a steal of a bargain on a new MP3 player. I currently have a 1gb Creative Muvo which I nabbed way back in the day for about $140. That's kind of disgusting to think about nowadays, but this was about 4 years ago when the only other real option were $300 iPods or similarly priced Creative alternatives. I'll tell you what: my Muvo rocks. This thing is still pounding away and will kick the shit out of an iPod shuffle any day of the week with its *gasp!* lcd screen so I can see what I'm listening to and actually change settings, it's FM tuner, Equalizer presets, line-in recorder, voice recorder, and folder-mode playlist sorting. And it came with a rubber slip cover/belt clip AND armband. I'm definitely keeping it as my workout MP3 player, but......
Well, lo and behold 4 years later and I'm dicking around on the internet and I find this. Please also check out the CNET review. I went with the 8gb refurbished model for $95. "Oh, no, B-Moto, not REFURBISHED!" Yes, refurbished. I've got so many refurbed tech products for massive discounts that have NEVER caused problems, it's not even funny. In fact, I have never had any refurbed gear that has gone bad. Granted, I only get gear from manufacturers that I know make quality products to begin with, but still. So, compared to this model's direct competitor, the iPod Nano, I can firmly say again:
Eat my shit, Apple.
I'll put up a more specific review once I get the thing, but just look at the specs. Beautiful screen, customizable interface, excessive non-proprietary software/data format compatibility, SD card slot expansion capability, FM tuner, Voice recorder, and half the price of the nano. If you MUST be a slave to trends, maintain your hipster status, and feel like you can justify sacrificing all those nice features for a touch-scroll wheel (Though I'll admit, it's pretty nice, and I don't know why Creative decided to do away with their competing touch-scroll bar), then you can save a little pocket change and sell yourself to Apple for a little less than usual.
That's all for today. PEACE!
- B-spot out.
"No, you touch it"
Who's eating shit? The consumer
Just to follow up on what B-spot said about refurbished products...I don't buy it. I've witnessed first hand why many people are turned off by refurbished products. My girlfriend has a printer that doesn't print, a DVD player that didn't play DVDs, and a TV/VCR/DVD combo that at least worked as a TV. In baseball terms, that .333 is a career year, but this is electronics where anything under 99% can kiss my ass.
For further proof, I am the proud owner of one hella boss 60 gig PS3. This thing is badass. And I got it for a song because it was refurbished and my buddy hooked me up with his instore discount. Too bad I can only play for 30 minutes before the damn thing freezes. But oh what a great 30 minutes it is...
J-town out.
For further proof, I am the proud owner of one hella boss 60 gig PS3. This thing is badass. And I got it for a song because it was refurbished and my buddy hooked me up with his instore discount. Too bad I can only play for 30 minutes before the damn thing freezes. But oh what a great 30 minutes it is...
J-town out.
Shit from Robots from the Future, you mean.
I should have probably mentioned that I sacrifice ipods and sometimes small children to the Gods of technology, so I think that has some bearing on the varying quality of J's and my electronic karma. Being Asian also helps.
I also do considerable research before I purchase anything, looking specifically at track records for hardware failures. For instance, I would never buy a refurbed Xbox 360 because of all the red ring of death scares. Nor would I buy anything refurbed from Sony these days (I bought a refurbed portable Sony CD player waayyyy back in the day and it was awesome and still works, but these days I hear weird things). They have a horrible record for mechanical failures and repair (though I can't fault J on his PS3 purchase; that thing is a beaut. Oh, and for what it's worth, I sat and played that rig and right at the point he was sure it would freeze on me, I went on and kept playing. I'm telling you, these things have DNA recognition in them....) Manufacturers with good track records: Canon, Creative Labs, Apple is hit and miss (though flash-based mp3 players are generally less prone to failure than hard drive based ones). Long story short: read both the customer and professional reviews of anything you buy. If people are complaining that it craps out on them right after the warranty runs out, DON'T BUY IT.
If you don't want to go refurb, Creative Labs still takes a dump on Apple's lawn with its regularly priced products.
I also do considerable research before I purchase anything, looking specifically at track records for hardware failures. For instance, I would never buy a refurbed Xbox 360 because of all the red ring of death scares. Nor would I buy anything refurbed from Sony these days (I bought a refurbed portable Sony CD player waayyyy back in the day and it was awesome and still works, but these days I hear weird things). They have a horrible record for mechanical failures and repair (though I can't fault J on his PS3 purchase; that thing is a beaut. Oh, and for what it's worth, I sat and played that rig and right at the point he was sure it would freeze on me, I went on and kept playing. I'm telling you, these things have DNA recognition in them....) Manufacturers with good track records: Canon, Creative Labs, Apple is hit and miss (though flash-based mp3 players are generally less prone to failure than hard drive based ones). Long story short: read both the customer and professional reviews of anything you buy. If people are complaining that it craps out on them right after the warranty runs out, DON'T BUY IT.
If you don't want to go refurb, Creative Labs still takes a dump on Apple's lawn with its regularly priced products.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Death Star Weather Forecast: SPACE WEATHER!
If you're new to our new blog, check out the posts for March 18th for a brief background on our title, Eggs & Toast.
First off, hats off to Penny Arcade for going for what I might be so bold as to hail the best visual dead baby joke to date. It also makes us here want to find somebody who can draw, so we can get our own comic strip going. No, not for dead baby jokes. Well.... not just for dead baby jokes, anyway...
I have this to say today: Apple, you're pissing me off. Things that make sense: Macbooks. Switching to Intel processors. iPods (sort of). Your advertising strategy. Things that don't make sense: Macbooks (to be explained). Macbook Air. iPod shuffle. The iPhone without 3G and more business-oriented support. Practically ignoring the gaming community (except for WoW). Granted, I lean towards PC's myself for various reasons, but man do I want me a Macbook Pro. Too bad my logic will win out 8 times out of ten and lead me to spring for a PC that for the same price could single-handedly beat the shit out of the Pro and still have an entire graphics processor left over to render a video of the PC guy from your ads doing very inappropriate things to your racially diverse, stunted siblings: Macbook White and Macbook Black. If someone ever decides to give me one, I'm painting it yellow, just to say "fuck you. " Don't even get me started on the Macbook Air. "How'd they get it so thin?" they ask. Easy: THERE'S NOTHING IN IT.
You've also created something of a class war, Apple. Your knack for creating very pretty products that work fluidly on only the most superficial layers of interface has allowed you to charge exorbitant sums for these flashy toys to cater to the wealthy neo-yuppie hipster crowd and kids with rich parents who can't rely on their own self confidence to fit in at school, while the rest of the poor assholes have to deal with immensely powerful hardware and software that 90% of us have no idea how to use. So what is someone like me left to do? Get money by fixing problems caused by both PC and Macs and buying both. I guess what I'm really trying to say is get your act together, Steve Jobs, and figure out how you can win someone like me over with in-depth functionality to your hot-to-trot bling boxes, and you could be knocking at your buddy Bill Gates' door with an eviction notice reading: "get the fuck out of that Forbes No. 2 Slot, Bitch."
Yeah, bit angry with today's post. Maybe more lighthearted next time. Or maybe not. Deal with it.
OH, can't go without dropping this one:
Rest in peace, Arthur C. Clarke.
For what it's worth, I think it's a good testament to the guy's character that he went out sticking it to God. It kind of makes me wonder, however, why it would be that he have to so adamantly assert that religion stay away from his death. Are there crazy family members hovering around him waiting for this very moment to attempt to save his soul? You'd think that if they were so invested in the task, he would have pissed them off enough by calling their beliefs "a necessary evil in the childhood of our particular species" to the point where they'd be perfectly content believing his soul is rotting in hell if it exists. The notion also forces me to imagine there are going to be bouncers placed throughout the mourning masses to throw anyone out that crosses themselves or says "God bless you" when the runny-nosed 4 year old sneezes on the coffin. I think that would be great. Well, Arthur, I for one hope you've found the answers to every brilliant and creative question you ever had and enjoy simultaneously existing throughout the ether of the universe to which you so wonderfully opened our eyes.
B-Spot out.
"Great Britain sucks"
First off, hats off to Penny Arcade for going for what I might be so bold as to hail the best visual dead baby joke to date. It also makes us here want to find somebody who can draw, so we can get our own comic strip going. No, not for dead baby jokes. Well.... not just for dead baby jokes, anyway...
I have this to say today: Apple, you're pissing me off. Things that make sense: Macbooks. Switching to Intel processors. iPods (sort of). Your advertising strategy. Things that don't make sense: Macbooks (to be explained). Macbook Air. iPod shuffle. The iPhone without 3G and more business-oriented support. Practically ignoring the gaming community (except for WoW). Granted, I lean towards PC's myself for various reasons, but man do I want me a Macbook Pro. Too bad my logic will win out 8 times out of ten and lead me to spring for a PC that for the same price could single-handedly beat the shit out of the Pro and still have an entire graphics processor left over to render a video of the PC guy from your ads doing very inappropriate things to your racially diverse, stunted siblings: Macbook White and Macbook Black. If someone ever decides to give me one, I'm painting it yellow, just to say "fuck you. " Don't even get me started on the Macbook Air. "How'd they get it so thin?" they ask. Easy: THERE'S NOTHING IN IT.
You've also created something of a class war, Apple. Your knack for creating very pretty products that work fluidly on only the most superficial layers of interface has allowed you to charge exorbitant sums for these flashy toys to cater to the wealthy neo-yuppie hipster crowd and kids with rich parents who can't rely on their own self confidence to fit in at school, while the rest of the poor assholes have to deal with immensely powerful hardware and software that 90% of us have no idea how to use. So what is someone like me left to do? Get money by fixing problems caused by both PC and Macs and buying both. I guess what I'm really trying to say is get your act together, Steve Jobs, and figure out how you can win someone like me over with in-depth functionality to your hot-to-trot bling boxes, and you could be knocking at your buddy Bill Gates' door with an eviction notice reading: "get the fuck out of that Forbes No. 2 Slot, Bitch."
Yeah, bit angry with today's post. Maybe more lighthearted next time. Or maybe not. Deal with it.
OH, can't go without dropping this one:
Rest in peace, Arthur C. Clarke.
For what it's worth, I think it's a good testament to the guy's character that he went out sticking it to God. It kind of makes me wonder, however, why it would be that he have to so adamantly assert that religion stay away from his death. Are there crazy family members hovering around him waiting for this very moment to attempt to save his soul? You'd think that if they were so invested in the task, he would have pissed them off enough by calling their beliefs "a necessary evil in the childhood of our particular species" to the point where they'd be perfectly content believing his soul is rotting in hell if it exists. The notion also forces me to imagine there are going to be bouncers placed throughout the mourning masses to throw anyone out that crosses themselves or says "God bless you" when the runny-nosed 4 year old sneezes on the coffin. I think that would be great. Well, Arthur, I for one hope you've found the answers to every brilliant and creative question you ever had and enjoy simultaneously existing throughout the ether of the universe to which you so wonderfully opened our eyes.
B-Spot out.
"Great Britain sucks"
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Hello World Part Deux
Welcome all to Eggs & Toast!
This is a blog geared into the minds of two slave-to-the-paycheck chums who figure they can be clever enough to distract you from your own day to day desk antics for a few insightful (if not generally useless) minutes. Ideally what will happen is my colleague and I will alternate choosing a topic twice a week about which to blog. Perhaps we will find a focus within that, but for now it seems best to keep things open. On with the debut...
First, a shoutout to the guys at Penny Arcade for keeping these two geeks entertained and inspired to be cleverly cynical in the blogger medium and not contained to AIM conversations.
Now, a note on the title of our blog, Eggs & Toast.
Its roots spring directly from my recent encounter with St. Patrick's Day and the subsequent aftermath from which stemmed the necessity for a cure to an acute form of stomach dementia. Yes: dementia. The sort where your stomach thinks it's somewhere other than where it is or should be. Like right behind your forehead. Or playing croquet out in the yard. Rewind: The celebration of Saint Patrick was going completely as is to be expected. I invited all sorts of esteemed Irish gentlemen to entertain themselves in my cozy gastrointestinal system, namely Mr. Guinness, Mr. Bailey, and Mr. Jameson, and entertain they did. The problem began when for what I can only describe as reasons of pure spite for him actually having to exist in my near presence, I absently invited a Mr. Dubra, a very lowly thought of Russian. Actually, he doesn't even deserve the "Mr."; he's just Dubra the Dick. Now, perhaps it's partly because of the rapid nature in which the Irish gentlemen entered the party, or the annoying nature in which Dubra the Dick just happened to appear out of nowhere, unannounced, and gradually became an imposing presence in the room, but either way: They fought.
The damage they caused was so great that my stomach developed the aforementioned dementia. Thankfully, he has contracted this dementia in the past, and I am familiar with how to mollify his trans locational tendencies. I've found the best way to convince him that he is not, in fact, on the third gate in his potentially career-establishing croquet match is by prescribing:
Eggs & Toast.
Now, I often supplement this prescription with green tea, rescue water, or if I really feel like I need to punish myself for instigating the dementia, I'll go for some black coffee with a little sugar. (It's worth noting that my partner in crime, Jobimoto, is particularly apt at concocting this particular form of punishment, but then again he is also smart enough to have invented a delicious way to enjoy all the splendors of alcohol without the stomach's croquet-related delusions of grandeur afterwards. I'll let him explain if he so chooses. ) But nevertheless, the basic cure seems to be Eggs & Toast. There you have it.
So perhaps these blogs can be your simple cure to mouse button dementia, or at least a pleasant stop on your web browser's dementia-related journey. Let the blogs begin!
-Bloggimoto out.
"you know nothing good comes from that"
This is a blog geared into the minds of two slave-to-the-paycheck chums who figure they can be clever enough to distract you from your own day to day desk antics for a few insightful (if not generally useless) minutes. Ideally what will happen is my colleague and I will alternate choosing a topic twice a week about which to blog. Perhaps we will find a focus within that, but for now it seems best to keep things open. On with the debut...
First, a shoutout to the guys at Penny Arcade for keeping these two geeks entertained and inspired to be cleverly cynical in the blogger medium and not contained to AIM conversations.
Now, a note on the title of our blog, Eggs & Toast.
Its roots spring directly from my recent encounter with St. Patrick's Day and the subsequent aftermath from which stemmed the necessity for a cure to an acute form of stomach dementia. Yes: dementia. The sort where your stomach thinks it's somewhere other than where it is or should be. Like right behind your forehead. Or playing croquet out in the yard. Rewind: The celebration of Saint Patrick was going completely as is to be expected. I invited all sorts of esteemed Irish gentlemen to entertain themselves in my cozy gastrointestinal system, namely Mr. Guinness, Mr. Bailey, and Mr. Jameson, and entertain they did. The problem began when for what I can only describe as reasons of pure spite for him actually having to exist in my near presence, I absently invited a Mr. Dubra, a very lowly thought of Russian. Actually, he doesn't even deserve the "Mr."; he's just Dubra the Dick. Now, perhaps it's partly because of the rapid nature in which the Irish gentlemen entered the party, or the annoying nature in which Dubra the Dick just happened to appear out of nowhere, unannounced, and gradually became an imposing presence in the room, but either way: They fought.
The damage they caused was so great that my stomach developed the aforementioned dementia. Thankfully, he has contracted this dementia in the past, and I am familiar with how to mollify his trans locational tendencies. I've found the best way to convince him that he is not, in fact, on the third gate in his potentially career-establishing croquet match is by prescribing:
Eggs & Toast.
Now, I often supplement this prescription with green tea, rescue water, or if I really feel like I need to punish myself for instigating the dementia, I'll go for some black coffee with a little sugar. (It's worth noting that my partner in crime, Jobimoto, is particularly apt at concocting this particular form of punishment, but then again he is also smart enough to have invented a delicious way to enjoy all the splendors of alcohol without the stomach's croquet-related delusions of grandeur afterwards. I'll let him explain if he so chooses. ) But nevertheless, the basic cure seems to be Eggs & Toast. There you have it.
So perhaps these blogs can be your simple cure to mouse button dementia, or at least a pleasant stop on your web browser's dementia-related journey. Let the blogs begin!
-Bloggimoto out.
"you know nothing good comes from that"
Hello World, part c
Now that we are officially up and running with a decent post from my esteemed colleague, I feel it pertinent to point out a few...points.
1. Penny-Arcade deserves as many props as anyone is capable of giving them, as they have single-handedly given me hope that you can actually do something you love and get paid for it.
2. The amount of writing and the length of my writing will be inversely proportional to the amount of work I have in any given day.
3. I would like to start a sort of Good Cop/Bad Cop thing on this post...or Bad Cop/Worse Cop so I will just start by saying: I do not care what you think.
4. Some days I will sound intelligent, other days I will sound dumber than a sack of drunk rocks.
That's about it, Jobimoto out.
1. Penny-Arcade deserves as many props as anyone is capable of giving them, as they have single-handedly given me hope that you can actually do something you love and get paid for it.
2. The amount of writing and the length of my writing will be inversely proportional to the amount of work I have in any given day.
3. I would like to start a sort of Good Cop/Bad Cop thing on this post...or Bad Cop/Worse Cop so I will just start by saying: I do not care what you think.
4. Some days I will sound intelligent, other days I will sound dumber than a sack of drunk rocks.
That's about it, Jobimoto out.
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