General Ramblings

An Esoteric Professional Opinion

Frutiger 57Cn is the ugliest font in the world. It’s even worse than that “futuristic computer” font from the ’70s, the one you saw on doors and packing crates on Buck Rogers.

Also, my one co-worker who likes to whistle while he works is driving me batshit.

That is all.

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Faster Than the Speed of Thought

Just overheard at the office: “I’m no good at instant messaging. If I was forced to think at the same pace as my typing, I’d only be fit for government work.”

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My Sentiments Exactly

How many times a day do I realize what year we’re living in and say exactly this to myself?

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Of course, on the positive side, there may not be any flying cars or starships around, but we’re not eating soylent wafers or dodging homicidal cyborgs. That’s something, right?

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A Bad Sign?

I hope it isn’t some kind of omen for how my day’s going to go that I ran out of deodorant this morning with one pit left to swipe.

Yep, it’s turning out to be one of those weeks. Hopefully I’ll get a chance to write something more later…

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And Now For Some Net Crap…

A week away from the ‘nets and this is the best I could come up with? That’s how it goes, I suppose. Robert, this one’s for you:

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Know Before You Go, Kids

A couple weeks back when I was teetering on the edge of a major funk, my lovely Girlfriend came up with what she thought would be a sure-fire cure for what ailed me: a big plate of comfort food at one of those classic cafes I so love, those places where the regulars while away the hours at the counter over a warm cup of joe (once upon a time, they would’ve had a cigarette to go with their caffeine, but those days are long gone, of course) while couples and families cram themselves into Naugahyde booths with Formica tables and enjoy hearty meals of home-style meatloaf, chicken-fried steak, or a burger the size of your head.

The cafe she had in mind was new to both of us, a vintage-looking hole-in-the-wall she’d spotted while running errands, not too far from her place of employment. It sounded perfect, and I was surprised and touched by her willingness to spontaneously try some place new for my sake (Anne is generally a creature of habit when it comes to food), so in less time than it took to type this sentence, we were off on a new culinary adventure.

We had no idea what we were getting into…

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Yar, Here Be My Pirate Name!

It’s International Talk Like a Pirate Day, so naturally I had to take this “What’s Your Pirate Name?” Quiz:

My pirate name is:
Dirty Jack Rackham

You’re the pirate everyone else wants to throw in the ocean — not to get rid of you, you understand; just to get rid of the smell. You have the good fortune of having a good name, since Rackham (pronounced RACKem, not rack-ham) is one of the coolest sounding surnames for a pirate. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.
part of the fidius.org network

Found via Kisintin, with whom I share the same basic description. Apparently, we have similar bathing habits…

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There’s a Car in My Lobby

I walked into my place of employment this morning to find a Smart car sitting in the lobby. The rather smallish lobby. Of my 100-year-old office building. A car.

With a parking ticket on the dashboard.

Apparently it was driven right through the front door — which is not particularly grand or spacious, I must add — sometime over the weekend.*

You know, there are a lot of things about working for an advertising agency that frustrate the hell out of me. But there are a lot of really awesome things as well. Like finding automobiles in front of the receptionist’s desk on a Monday morning…

* For the record, the door was open at the time — no broken glass or anything like that.

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Go, Jack, Go!

Just thought I’d mention that my friend and webmaster Jack Hattaway is currently — as in right now, even as I type this! — riding in the Lotoja Classic, a bicycling marathon that runs from Logan, Utah, the northernmost community of any size in this state, through southern Idaho and onward to Jackson Hole, Wyoming (LOgan TO JAckson, get it?). That’s a distance of 206 miles over three mountain passes in a single day; according to this Wikipedia entry, the cyclists will climb some 10,000 total feet and finish 1,800 feet higher than where they began.

Jack told me yesterday that his goal is merely to finish, not to place, and he’s hoping to do it in roughly 13 hours. His lovely wife has been sending me regular text-message updates on his progress; the latest was about an hour ago, and it indicated he’d just left Montpelier, Idaho, with 136 miles to go.

I hope it doesn’t sound too lame and unmanly to say that I’m very, very proud of him for even attempting this. Only a couple of years ago, he was just another overweight, out-of-shape, fast-approaching-middle-age schlump like myself. Then a series of converging issues convinced him it was time to make some changes in his lifestyle, and now he’s riding in a fracking cycling marathon. It’s been an amazing and inspiring transformation.

I’m rooting for you, buddy, and looking forward to posting the news of your success!

(Official Lotoja Classic website here, if anyone is interested…)

[Update: The last message from Mrs. Jack arrived at 8:21 this evening. It read, “Jack finished in 13:39:58.” Incredible… way to go, man!]

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