As it turns out, having NO internet access at home will do a lot to hinder one's ability to update a blog. That being said, I think I have worked out a system (read: found a place secret nearby with free interwebs) that will allow me to update pretty much every day. Its not that I haven't had ideas for blogging, its just that I haven't had the chance to get to internet to share them.
But a few updates before I get to the main point of this post:
1) I now have TV. Phase 1 of my master Satellite TV plan is complete.
2) I have begun to listen to the "Southern Light Gospel Network" radio station. Not because I have turned a new leaf, but because I am a cynical bastard and like to hear what these "values voters" have to say sometimes.
3) I have rediscovered the glory of the Lean Mean Fat Burning Machine (otherwise known as a George Foreman Grill)
And now back to your regularly scheduled programming:
I would like to point out to everyone my amazing predictive powers. Last week, there was a lot of hand-wringing and chicken-little-ing coming from a lot of Obama supporters. If you can remember that far back (before this nation's economy took a long walk off a short, poorly constructed pier) all signs pointed to the "genius" of the Palin pick and how soaring McCain's numbers were due to his "maverick" seclection of the Alaskan governor. I was beginning to get a little hot under the collar myself, but then took a step back and remembered what I had thought the instant I heard that Palin was goingto be McCain's running mate: holy shit, what a pick, she must be the least qualified veep selection since Spiro Agnew... this is gold! I then wrote the following passage in an email to a friend the morning of Wednesday 10 September:
"I am sure you are well aware of the seemingly boundless "Palin bounce" that is going on right now, with McCain experiencing boosts in all the major polls and especially among the white middle age women bracket. From what I have read on most of the sites these days (this is what I do when kids fall asleep in class instead of responding to my summons), it seems like the netroots are getting hot under the collar regarding this situation. I really don't think they should (at least thats what I tell myself when I begin to worry), for a few reasons. First, I know the media is definitely doing its part (ie: lipstick on a pig flap) to fan the flames being ignighted by the McCain campaign. It seems that they are all too happy to harp on any little thing that comes there way that feeds into the McCain-Palin bounce narrative that seems to be the order of the week for the news cycle. Secondly, the Obama campaign (while being far from perfect) has done a good job so far in weathering all storms that have come its way (remember that time Obama was linked to a certain radical pastor? who talks about that anymore?) and come out of everything pretty much on top. I am sure that the next week's narrative will have something to do with the outright dishonest and dishonorable nature of a lot of the ads that the McCain campaign is running (that sex-ed one comes to mind) and the flaws in the Palin selection (which after some initial doubts has been hailed as a great success from what I have read)."
There you have it, ladies and gents, the media is so predictable that this lowly college advisor could figure out what would play out in the coming week: a shift in narrative, new portents of an Obama surge, and Palin coming under even more scrutiny.
As for another prediction, I don't think I want to press my luck... BUT I do like to gamble, so I am going to go out on a limb:
Prediction: Next week will be another rough one for McCain, as his "fundamentals" comment gets more and more play, and possibly his bizarre interview coupled with Chuck Hagel's comments about Palin will play well into the developing narrative that McCain's numbers are following the Dow's southward plunge. Look for this to feed nicely into the story that McCain will "do better than expected" in next Friday's debate.
Lets watch how this works.
18 September 2008
26 August 2008
first day
My first day at school was yesterday, and it was dominated by a singular, week-defining event:
The EYE BUG CATASTROPHE!!!!111
The story goes as follows:
It was around 9:48 or so (it was a very lax day, the kids had no use for college guidance on a day when they were learning where all of their classes were), when I started to rub my right eye. Typically, this process is known as 'rubbing the sleep out of ones eyes’, which at this boring and relatively early juncture of the day was exactly my plan. Typically this part of the eye is full of goodies, you know eye crust and the like. As I rubbed, though, I noted that my particular treasure this time was a lot bigger in mass and queer in texture as compared to the standard issue I typically get. As I rolled this treat down my cheek and collected it on my finger, I noticed something… horrific. Something so shocking that I am pretty sure I jumped out of my seat and shrieked.
What was this ghastly discovery?
Nothing other than a GREEN BUG. Yes, there on the tip of my finger was green insect of about 3 mm in length and .75 mm in width. The presence of this bug was disturbing in the extreme. After all, its probably one of the things you least expect to see staring right back at you when you rub your eye. Needless to say, this discovery prompted more questions than it did answers, questions such as:
1) Where the hell did this bug come from? (and sub-questions like)
1a) How did it get in my eye?
1b) Did it originate in my eye or merely land there from above or crawl there from below?
1c)Has this bug been in my eye since Saturday, when I thought I got a flying object in my eye for a bit?
2) Why do things like this happen to me?
These questions raced in my head all day, preventing me from doing my normal duties at work (of which there were very few, but still it was a considerable distraction).
For the rest of the day, I was phased by the presence of the bug, and I spent due time and diligence doing my best to measure, categorize, and analyze the bug in full detail.
All that I can provide to you, dear reader, is this somewhat blurry iPhone generated photograph of the culprit.
If you have any information that could lead to this bug’s identification or an explanation of what it was doing in my eye, please send all responses to:
wtf!?@lolerskates.edu
The EYE BUG CATASTROPHE!!!!111
The story goes as follows:
It was around 9:48 or so (it was a very lax day, the kids had no use for college guidance on a day when they were learning where all of their classes were), when I started to rub my right eye. Typically, this process is known as 'rubbing the sleep out of ones eyes’, which at this boring and relatively early juncture of the day was exactly my plan. Typically this part of the eye is full of goodies, you know eye crust and the like. As I rubbed, though, I noted that my particular treasure this time was a lot bigger in mass and queer in texture as compared to the standard issue I typically get. As I rolled this treat down my cheek and collected it on my finger, I noticed something… horrific. Something so shocking that I am pretty sure I jumped out of my seat and shrieked.
What was this ghastly discovery?
Nothing other than a GREEN BUG. Yes, there on the tip of my finger was green insect of about 3 mm in length and .75 mm in width. The presence of this bug was disturbing in the extreme. After all, its probably one of the things you least expect to see staring right back at you when you rub your eye. Needless to say, this discovery prompted more questions than it did answers, questions such as:
1) Where the hell did this bug come from? (and sub-questions like)
1a) How did it get in my eye?
1b) Did it originate in my eye or merely land there from above or crawl there from below?
1c)Has this bug been in my eye since Saturday, when I thought I got a flying object in my eye for a bit?
2) Why do things like this happen to me?
These questions raced in my head all day, preventing me from doing my normal duties at work (of which there were very few, but still it was a considerable distraction).
For the rest of the day, I was phased by the presence of the bug, and I spent due time and diligence doing my best to measure, categorize, and analyze the bug in full detail.
All that I can provide to you, dear reader, is this somewhat blurry iPhone generated photograph of the culprit.
If you have any information that could lead to this bug’s identification or an explanation of what it was doing in my eye, please send all responses to:
wtf!?@lolerskates.edu
15 August 2008
antenna debacle
Fact: I really enjoy the Olympics, especially the summer games and I will do most anything to watch them. Up to an including driving 2 and a half hours to go to a friendly home that features cable TV to see the games and get a home cooked meal.
Fact: I am intensely poor right now. Americorps doesn’t exactly shell out the big bucks… and the market for a side job isn’t looking so hot right now (check back for future posts on that can of worms), thus I am constantly looking for ways to get by on the cheap.
Considering these two facts, and how they press upon my conscience at all hours of the day this time of the Olympiad, the following tale must be amusing in the utmost for you, dear reader, and the universe on the whole.
At some point on Monday I decided that I had enough. I couldn’t take any more hearing about Michael Phelps’ amazing performances over the phone, couldn’t take missing out on all of the gymnastics and reading about it the next day. No, I was going to do something about it. I was going to “Be Proactive” (Habit 1 for those Steve Covey fans out there) and fix my situation… economically. Because I wanted merely a glimpse at the prime time Olympic events (none of that handball or rhythmic gymnastics bullshit they relegate to daytime CNBC ) and do so cheaply, the way to go would be to get the most basic of cable packages. Determined to get this cable as soon as possible, I charged across the street to the Comcast office during my lunch break and demanded a breakdown of their packages. Much to my chagrin, their most basic package consisted of only the first 20 channels and cost a little over TWENTY BUCKS a month. Not going to happen, I thought. It was time for Plan B: RABBIT EARS to nab the FREE NBC floating around the airwaves. Heck, I thought, if I buy the right kind, I might be able to pick up broadcast HD… for a second I thought I was going to be money in the bank (if not literally, figuratively perhaps).
Everything was turning up Brendan at Wal-Mart, especially when I discovered that not only were the rabbit ears five dollars cheaper than advertised online, but that they were HD compatible in a big way. SILLY, I thought to myself, I am going to be checking out that synchronized diving in HD in no time. I was cised until I walked up to the register, when I was served my first cruel dose of cruel reality.
Things first seemed too good to be true when I stepped up to purchase my device. I was being rung up by a ONE TOOTHED (I wish I were kidding, but this is FroRo after all) cashier named Betsy (again, if you are thinking that this is too stereotypically Wal-Mart, I will take you to her myself).
// My inner monolgue just before making purchase //
“I am such a fucking peasant grundoon right now,” my higher conscience told me. “There is no way you are going to get what you want out of this, there is a reason that Comcast sells ultra-basic cable for plebeian assholes like yourself.”
“Shut up, cheap TV, dreamy Michael Phelps,” my lower order brain replied.
// and that was that //
The purchase made, and Betsy’s visage burned in my mind’s eye, I raced home to give my TV the gift of life.
Cue Cruel Dose Of Reality #2.
Antennas are a bitch to set up. Each channel has its own frequency that demands a certain positioning from the rabbit ears and a setting on the knob that masters the set. Not only that, newer TVs (like those made before the stone age) expect to get some input that is better than 1950’s style technology, which makes optimizing the output from an antenna difficult. I didn’t know this until I spent an hour and a half trying to get the damned set to work.
Call this CDOR #3:
After hour number 2 of fussing with the primitive device (the last half hour spent looking up possible solutions on the iPhone, my lone connection to the outside world) I came to a singular and very disappointing realization: the reason that Comcast offers an ultra-basic, just the broadcast channels service in FroRo is that the signals from D.C. DO NOT REACH THIS FUCKING PLACE! Nestled comfortably in the Shenandoah Valley, the town is impervious to signals from surrounding cities… bully!
I let the immense disappointment set in for a second, gathered my wits, and decided to put the whole thing on ice until I could figure out what the hell I was going to do to get cheap TV.
More on the Great Satellite Con later…
Fact: I am intensely poor right now. Americorps doesn’t exactly shell out the big bucks… and the market for a side job isn’t looking so hot right now (check back for future posts on that can of worms), thus I am constantly looking for ways to get by on the cheap.
Considering these two facts, and how they press upon my conscience at all hours of the day this time of the Olympiad, the following tale must be amusing in the utmost for you, dear reader, and the universe on the whole.
At some point on Monday I decided that I had enough. I couldn’t take any more hearing about Michael Phelps’ amazing performances over the phone, couldn’t take missing out on all of the gymnastics and reading about it the next day. No, I was going to do something about it. I was going to “Be Proactive” (Habit 1 for those Steve Covey fans out there) and fix my situation… economically. Because I wanted merely a glimpse at the prime time Olympic events (none of that handball or rhythmic gymnastics bullshit they relegate to daytime CNBC ) and do so cheaply, the way to go would be to get the most basic of cable packages. Determined to get this cable as soon as possible, I charged across the street to the Comcast office during my lunch break and demanded a breakdown of their packages. Much to my chagrin, their most basic package consisted of only the first 20 channels and cost a little over TWENTY BUCKS a month. Not going to happen, I thought. It was time for Plan B: RABBIT EARS to nab the FREE NBC floating around the airwaves. Heck, I thought, if I buy the right kind, I might be able to pick up broadcast HD… for a second I thought I was going to be money in the bank (if not literally, figuratively perhaps).
Everything was turning up Brendan at Wal-Mart, especially when I discovered that not only were the rabbit ears five dollars cheaper than advertised online, but that they were HD compatible in a big way. SILLY, I thought to myself, I am going to be checking out that synchronized diving in HD in no time. I was cised until I walked up to the register, when I was served my first cruel dose of cruel reality.
Things first seemed too good to be true when I stepped up to purchase my device. I was being rung up by a ONE TOOTHED (I wish I were kidding, but this is FroRo after all) cashier named Betsy (again, if you are thinking that this is too stereotypically Wal-Mart, I will take you to her myself).
// My inner monolgue just before making purchase //
“I am such a fucking peasant grundoon right now,” my higher conscience told me. “There is no way you are going to get what you want out of this, there is a reason that Comcast sells ultra-basic cable for plebeian assholes like yourself.”
“Shut up, cheap TV, dreamy Michael Phelps,” my lower order brain replied.
// and that was that //
The purchase made, and Betsy’s visage burned in my mind’s eye, I raced home to give my TV the gift of life.
Cue Cruel Dose Of Reality #2.
Antennas are a bitch to set up. Each channel has its own frequency that demands a certain positioning from the rabbit ears and a setting on the knob that masters the set. Not only that, newer TVs (like those made before the stone age) expect to get some input that is better than 1950’s style technology, which makes optimizing the output from an antenna difficult. I didn’t know this until I spent an hour and a half trying to get the damned set to work.
Call this CDOR #3:
After hour number 2 of fussing with the primitive device (the last half hour spent looking up possible solutions on the iPhone, my lone connection to the outside world) I came to a singular and very disappointing realization: the reason that Comcast offers an ultra-basic, just the broadcast channels service in FroRo is that the signals from D.C. DO NOT REACH THIS FUCKING PLACE! Nestled comfortably in the Shenandoah Valley, the town is impervious to signals from surrounding cities… bully!
I let the immense disappointment set in for a second, gathered my wits, and decided to put the whole thing on ice until I could figure out what the hell I was going to do to get cheap TV.
More on the Great Satellite Con later…
13 August 2008
soul mountain
Soul is a word that is thrown around quite freely these days. One can listen to a local KISS FM and hear very “soul”-ful music. One can go to the local barber shop and get a treatment of Soul Glo for their do. One can even hop on board the Soul Train if one is lucky enough to catch a rerun. The creation of any number of soul-related products and concepts cheapens the meaning of a potentially powerful word. After all, the soul is the metaphysical essence that all humans supposedly possess. That’s some important, weighty stuff. Clearly not meant to be bandied about to describe just any run of the mill person, place, or thing.
Upon my move-in to FroRo, though, I believe I reached the pinnacle of dining experiences in a place that is well deserving of its moniker. I scaled the face of Soul Mountain.
Soul Mountain is a black enterprise in the heart of downtown FroRo, specializing in Caribbean fusion cuisine presented in a culturally rich atmosphere. Its menu features a wide variety of spiced poultry and seafood, with an equally impressive drink list composed of both locally grown wines and fine international beers. The walls of the restaurant are festooned with various cultural items from far flung corners of the world: ancestral masks from west Africa, a large Persian tapestry, and a rotund ivory Buddha to name a few of the items. Unique not only in menu and décor, the restaurant also features entertainment programming that makes it even more attractive dining location. Colorful fliers on its chalkboard make it clear that each day has something unique to offer denizens of Soul Mountain: open mike on Wednesdays, Las Vegas lounge-style entertainment on Saturday nights, and dance music Thursday and Friday.
But no great restaurant can truly stand out without service to match. Soul Mountain does not disappoint in this aspect either. Ashad and I were treated to bottomless glasses of the most delicious, thirst quenching pink lemonade we had ever experienced. Our respective entrees were not only delicious in of themselves, but the speed and courtesy with which they were delivered made them even more savory – if that were somehow possible. Now, one may expect such a royal feast to come at an equally princely sum, but nothing could be further from the truth. Our meals came to a grand total of six dollars apiece thanks to a generous lunch special that capped off the entire dining experience nicely.
All of the facts considered, I hope to become a regular there. And I wouldn’t mind at all – nor would I be surprised in the least – if heaven turned out to be located upon the frosty peaks of Soul Mountain.
Upon my move-in to FroRo, though, I believe I reached the pinnacle of dining experiences in a place that is well deserving of its moniker. I scaled the face of Soul Mountain.
Soul Mountain is a black enterprise in the heart of downtown FroRo, specializing in Caribbean fusion cuisine presented in a culturally rich atmosphere. Its menu features a wide variety of spiced poultry and seafood, with an equally impressive drink list composed of both locally grown wines and fine international beers. The walls of the restaurant are festooned with various cultural items from far flung corners of the world: ancestral masks from west Africa, a large Persian tapestry, and a rotund ivory Buddha to name a few of the items. Unique not only in menu and décor, the restaurant also features entertainment programming that makes it even more attractive dining location. Colorful fliers on its chalkboard make it clear that each day has something unique to offer denizens of Soul Mountain: open mike on Wednesdays, Las Vegas lounge-style entertainment on Saturday nights, and dance music Thursday and Friday.
But no great restaurant can truly stand out without service to match. Soul Mountain does not disappoint in this aspect either. Ashad and I were treated to bottomless glasses of the most delicious, thirst quenching pink lemonade we had ever experienced. Our respective entrees were not only delicious in of themselves, but the speed and courtesy with which they were delivered made them even more savory – if that were somehow possible. Now, one may expect such a royal feast to come at an equally princely sum, but nothing could be further from the truth. Our meals came to a grand total of six dollars apiece thanks to a generous lunch special that capped off the entire dining experience nicely.
All of the facts considered, I hope to become a regular there. And I wouldn’t mind at all – nor would I be surprised in the least – if heaven turned out to be located upon the frosty peaks of Soul Mountain.
02 August 2008
becky hammon
- the obligatory explanation for a lack of recent activity -
There is really no good explanation, other than the fact that I have had a rather fluid schedule, with no time set aside for noting down what I have been doing or thinking. Now that I find myself settling down into a good rhythm of things, should be able to keep up better with the blog.
- and now, on to the content -
As I read the latest edition of Sports Illustrated, I came upon an article about soon to be naturalized Russian (naturally born American) "Big Shot" Becky Hammon, a guard for the San Antonio Silver Stars and CSKA Moscow. Her story is not too complicated: she was not selected to the US National team, and took full advantage of a clause in her CSKA Moscow contract that provided a six-figure incentive if she were to play for the Russian national team and medal in the Olympics.
She is of the mind, as per her quotes in the article, that she is merely fulfilling a life-long dream of playing in the Olympic Games. Hammon rejects the "mercenary" label she has been given by some critics who cite the traitorous nature of playing for a country that for the greater part of the past century was the United States' sporting (and Cold War, for that matter) arch-enemy. The 2007 MVP runner-up "wish[es she were] given the opportunity to turn down two million dollars, to play for [her] country, because [she] would've done it in a second."
Given the opportunity to turn down money, to play for your country? I'm sorry, but this is not a matter of opporunity. This is a matter of a professional athlete looking to make more money and using the Olympic Games, a once amateur-oreinted competition founded upon the principle world peace and understanding through international sporting competition. Hammon (and her turncoat compatriot J.R. Holden) along with their enablers CSKA Moskow and the Russian government/sporting autorities. I have no problem with professional athletes doing what htey need to do to get the money they are able to earn due to their God-given natural ability and honed talent. But to cite the chance to seize upon the unique opportunity of playing in the Olympics as a reason for playing for a different national team is dishonest at best and ruinous to international competition. Hammon is merely seizing upon a unique opportunity for her wallet.
National teams are supposed to be the best of the best from the country they represent. They are not meant to be yet another club team for which any player can suit up. If they are, such hallowed competitions as the Olympics and the FIFA World Cup cease to have any special meaning and become second-rate tournaments to top level club competitions like the UEFA Champions League. International sporting bodies like FIFA and FIBA should clamp down on rules that allow players to be mercenaries and punish clubs like CSKA Moskow that tempt players to switch national allegiance through financial incentives.
And as for Ms. Hammon, I hope she and her Russian "countrywomen" come in a close second to the United States at the Games and that the playing of The Star Spangled Banner arouses in her the deepest of disappointments, too deep for any sum of money to fill.
There is really no good explanation, other than the fact that I have had a rather fluid schedule, with no time set aside for noting down what I have been doing or thinking. Now that I find myself settling down into a good rhythm of things, should be able to keep up better with the blog.
- and now, on to the content -
As I read the latest edition of Sports Illustrated, I came upon an article about soon to be naturalized Russian (naturally born American) "Big Shot" Becky Hammon, a guard for the San Antonio Silver Stars and CSKA Moscow. Her story is not too complicated: she was not selected to the US National team, and took full advantage of a clause in her CSKA Moscow contract that provided a six-figure incentive if she were to play for the Russian national team and medal in the Olympics.
She is of the mind, as per her quotes in the article, that she is merely fulfilling a life-long dream of playing in the Olympic Games. Hammon rejects the "mercenary" label she has been given by some critics who cite the traitorous nature of playing for a country that for the greater part of the past century was the United States' sporting (and Cold War, for that matter) arch-enemy. The 2007 MVP runner-up "wish[es she were] given the opportunity to turn down two million dollars, to play for [her] country, because [she] would've done it in a second."
Given the opportunity to turn down money, to play for your country? I'm sorry, but this is not a matter of opporunity. This is a matter of a professional athlete looking to make more money and using the Olympic Games, a once amateur-oreinted competition founded upon the principle world peace and understanding through international sporting competition. Hammon (and her turncoat compatriot J.R. Holden) along with their enablers CSKA Moskow and the Russian government/sporting autorities. I have no problem with professional athletes doing what htey need to do to get the money they are able to earn due to their God-given natural ability and honed talent. But to cite the chance to seize upon the unique opportunity of playing in the Olympics as a reason for playing for a different national team is dishonest at best and ruinous to international competition. Hammon is merely seizing upon a unique opportunity for her wallet.
National teams are supposed to be the best of the best from the country they represent. They are not meant to be yet another club team for which any player can suit up. If they are, such hallowed competitions as the Olympics and the FIFA World Cup cease to have any special meaning and become second-rate tournaments to top level club competitions like the UEFA Champions League. International sporting bodies like FIFA and FIBA should clamp down on rules that allow players to be mercenaries and punish clubs like CSKA Moskow that tempt players to switch national allegiance through financial incentives.
And as for Ms. Hammon, I hope she and her Russian "countrywomen" come in a close second to the United States at the Games and that the playing of The Star Spangled Banner arouses in her the deepest of disappointments, too deep for any sum of money to fill.
14 July 2008
iphone
This past Saturday was both very familiar and life changing for me. It followed the normal pattern of collegiate Saturdays: wake up far too early, labor at a service project for about 3 hours, have a filling meal, take a shower, laze away the afternoon, and then drink heavily. Nothing all together out of the ordinary.
The life-changing part fell between the getting up too early and the manual labor. The hour of waking was about 6:30 (with a snooze or two, it actually became 6:42, but you get the idea) and the purpose was to get in line to purchase Cupertino Orchards' latest incarnation of the revolutionary iPhone, the iPhone 3G.
Now, I am the first to admit my admiration for gadgets, gizmos, and generally all things electronic. Spending hours walking around the aisles of Best Buy or their virtual counterparts on newegg.com is not a waste of time for me, but rather a necessary means for me to catch up on what is the latest and greatest in the world of technology. If this sounds weird at all, just replace 'Best Buy' with 'Nine West', 'newegg.com' with 'Steve Madden', and 'technology' with 'shoe fashion' and see if that doesn't sound like any woman you know.
But as a matter of principle I reject waiting in line for hours for the newest technology to go on sale. No, no you will never find me camped out in front of Wal Mart for that first shipment of PS3s, nor for that matter will you see me decked out in full Jedi attire for the midnight showing of a Star Wars prequel/sequel/animated movie (I am also way into movies, especially movies that incorporate sweet high tech things, hence Star Wars as an example). The whole notion of lines is distasteful to me, as standing still for hours on end is very boring and wasteful, as it could be spend lying still for hours (sleeping) or sitting (watching entertaining tv). To this point in my life, lines were to be avoided at all costs.
Not so with the iPhone. For some reason, whether it be iPhone envy (Jeff and Mike have enjoyed the iPhone for months now) or dissatisfaction with my old phone (it doesn't really slide open anymore), I found myself more than willing to wake up at the crack of dawn and park myself outside of the local AT&T store and wait for the latest shipment to go on sale. And wait I did.
The scene at the store was quite a mess, as some folks who were snubbed after waiting in line on Friday morning made sure not to repeat the mistake by arriving extra early and truly camping out. One fellow claimed that he didn't go to sleep after bar hopping on the Corner Friday night, merely making the store the last leg of his Friday night exploits. Another chap was liveblogging (on his MacBook of course) about the experience while in line. Yet another dude, the king among all, made an event out of it by bringing the whole family along: he unloaded a passenger van full of his offspring (about 6 in number, none over the age of 10) and had them accompany him in line, well-equipped with juiceboxes, board games, and Hannah Montana accessories abound. The cynical among us thought that it was all a ploy to hoard iPhones (each person in line was entitled to one phone), but it turned out just be a very ill-advised parenting move (as each kid wreaked havoc in the store once they were let in, much to the dismay of the already on-edge sales reps).
I was the average, sensible enthusiast with my book and light breakfast (an apple, how apropos) with me in line. The two hour wait wasn't too bad, and when all was said and done was well worth it. How so? Of the past 52 hours I have had the phone, I have used it in some fashion for 8 of them, which is rather impressive when you factor out sleeping, eating, and all of the other essentials that take up one's life. Waiting for, using, and loving the iPhone, I am sure it is all time well spent.
The life-changing part fell between the getting up too early and the manual labor. The hour of waking was about 6:30 (with a snooze or two, it actually became 6:42, but you get the idea) and the purpose was to get in line to purchase Cupertino Orchards' latest incarnation of the revolutionary iPhone, the iPhone 3G.
Now, I am the first to admit my admiration for gadgets, gizmos, and generally all things electronic. Spending hours walking around the aisles of Best Buy or their virtual counterparts on newegg.com is not a waste of time for me, but rather a necessary means for me to catch up on what is the latest and greatest in the world of technology. If this sounds weird at all, just replace 'Best Buy' with 'Nine West', 'newegg.com' with 'Steve Madden', and 'technology' with 'shoe fashion' and see if that doesn't sound like any woman you know.
But as a matter of principle I reject waiting in line for hours for the newest technology to go on sale. No, no you will never find me camped out in front of Wal Mart for that first shipment of PS3s, nor for that matter will you see me decked out in full Jedi attire for the midnight showing of a Star Wars prequel/sequel/animated movie (I am also way into movies, especially movies that incorporate sweet high tech things, hence Star Wars as an example). The whole notion of lines is distasteful to me, as standing still for hours on end is very boring and wasteful, as it could be spend lying still for hours (sleeping) or sitting (watching entertaining tv). To this point in my life, lines were to be avoided at all costs.
Not so with the iPhone. For some reason, whether it be iPhone envy (Jeff and Mike have enjoyed the iPhone for months now) or dissatisfaction with my old phone (it doesn't really slide open anymore), I found myself more than willing to wake up at the crack of dawn and park myself outside of the local AT&T store and wait for the latest shipment to go on sale. And wait I did.
The scene at the store was quite a mess, as some folks who were snubbed after waiting in line on Friday morning made sure not to repeat the mistake by arriving extra early and truly camping out. One fellow claimed that he didn't go to sleep after bar hopping on the Corner Friday night, merely making the store the last leg of his Friday night exploits. Another chap was liveblogging (on his MacBook of course) about the experience while in line. Yet another dude, the king among all, made an event out of it by bringing the whole family along: he unloaded a passenger van full of his offspring (about 6 in number, none over the age of 10) and had them accompany him in line, well-equipped with juiceboxes, board games, and Hannah Montana accessories abound. The cynical among us thought that it was all a ploy to hoard iPhones (each person in line was entitled to one phone), but it turned out just be a very ill-advised parenting move (as each kid wreaked havoc in the store once they were let in, much to the dismay of the already on-edge sales reps).
I was the average, sensible enthusiast with my book and light breakfast (an apple, how apropos) with me in line. The two hour wait wasn't too bad, and when all was said and done was well worth it. How so? Of the past 52 hours I have had the phone, I have used it in some fashion for 8 of them, which is rather impressive when you factor out sleeping, eating, and all of the other essentials that take up one's life. Waiting for, using, and loving the iPhone, I am sure it is all time well spent.
07 July 2008
back in action
It sure has been a long time since my last post, but here are some of the things I have been up to since I was last posting:
- attended my first wedding as an adult, where I delivered a best man speech for my brother. It was a nerve-racking experience until I gave the speech, whereupon the clock struck hammertime and it was on like donkey kong. The night went from having a dance off with my brother and dad to taking shots of tequila into the wee hours of the morning with my brother's (somewhat) alcoholic friends.
- a 13 hour drive home after the aforementioned night on the town. It hurt.
- training for CGs, which has been at varying times informative, extremely boring, and full of more hungover trials by fire.
- as a corralary: many, many college visits. I have seen over 16 colleges and universities in Virginia in the past few weeks. I think I will have a recap post once I am all done with the tours, to both jog my memory and enter the jone-dome because some of these places have been TRIFLING.
- seen what heretofore has been seemingly impossible: the Spanish National Football Team WIN an international tournament! What a moment that was! I think in the past 6 months I have expended most all of my good sports karma for the decade.
- recommitted myself to postings of note on this blog once again.
- attended my first wedding as an adult, where I delivered a best man speech for my brother. It was a nerve-racking experience until I gave the speech, whereupon the clock struck hammertime and it was on like donkey kong. The night went from having a dance off with my brother and dad to taking shots of tequila into the wee hours of the morning with my brother's (somewhat) alcoholic friends.
- a 13 hour drive home after the aforementioned night on the town. It hurt.
- training for CGs, which has been at varying times informative, extremely boring, and full of more hungover trials by fire.
- as a corralary: many, many college visits. I have seen over 16 colleges and universities in Virginia in the past few weeks. I think I will have a recap post once I am all done with the tours, to both jog my memory and enter the jone-dome because some of these places have been TRIFLING.
- seen what heretofore has been seemingly impossible: the Spanish National Football Team WIN an international tournament! What a moment that was! I think in the past 6 months I have expended most all of my good sports karma for the decade.
- recommitted myself to postings of note on this blog once again.
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