what ever happened to ok? i mean, back in the good old days, there'd be a dialog box with two options: ok and cancel. now frighteningly frequently, there's only one: submit. as if they don't need to hide the fact that they have all the power and you're screwed.
i ride my bike to work most days. usually i take routes that avoid traffic. but it's hot now. so i leave earlier. and there are more cars. lots more cars. now, if you're a bad driver and i'm in my car i might honk at you. road rage is stupid. cause really, cars are so safe, you'd be hard pressed to kill me. on the other hand, if you're a bad driver and i'm on my bike, you're gonna get glared at at the least. i might yak at you. usually gesticulating at the red light that you were in such a hurry to get to that you nearly orphaned my kids and widowed my wife. sometimes i actually stop and talk to the driver. i'm always polite. cause 2nd amendment. hey uh, can you make my commute a little safer please? there are three stereotypes: the clueless fuck who looks at me like they've never seen me before in their life and have no idea what i'm talking about. they're bad. but not as bad as the rager. fuck you! it's my road. the whole fucking road is mine. you hear me? mine! and i'll fucking run you over if you so much as wharrgharble. hurry darwin. hurry fast. and then there's the cyclist. i ride too! every day! you don't have to worry about me. i got you the whole way. you need to worry about him, not me. sheehs, these guys are the worst. i think they see the bicycle and their brain naturally assumes they know what you're going to do. and so they stop paying attention to the bicycle. it doesn't matter how much you wave at them. hey dude, i need to merge through your lane so i can get out of your way. they're pigeon-holed into a particular (and wrong) thought process. and no force on earth can knock their rigor mortisified brain out of their happy rut.
i believe that jon huntsman is my favorite republican. this
so last night i was working late. well, it was what passes for late now. the beautiful and talented alisa was sitting in her rocking chair in my office reading. the man-child was heading for bed. i was working on someone else's code. someone else's broken code. while he's russia. which is a really good place to be when your code is broke. so i'm staring at this russian code. trying to think like a russian. when the man-child calls from the living room: munh nungh! ungiina orga ugh uglar ang moav. i blink. oh shit. i think. my brain is so deep in russian i can no longer understand english. i cast a horrified look at alisa. she says, what? i blink. for the second time in two seconds. b comes running down the hall. straight to the bathroom. eshpiiiiiit! into the sink. he was apparently brushing his teeth in the living room. hey, everything's normal when you're a teenager. right? i said, i let the cat in before i realized she had a rat in her mouth. oh of course. that makes perfect sense. it wasn't russian. it was toothpaste. i go back to work. my wife on the other hand leaps out of the rocker. don't let that cat eviscerate a rat on my living room floor. (she really uses those kinds of words in ordinary conversation.) they rush back to the living room. oh god. it's still alive. timmmmmmmmeeeeerrrrrrr! sigh. da. i go walking down the hall. i see them taking cover behind the frame of the entrance way to the living room. i keep on going. to the garage. to get a hockey stick. where rat? it's taken refuge in a largest roll of bubble wrap i've ever seen. now why there's large roll of bubble rat wrap in the middle of the living room, i am not going to explain at this time. nor am i going to explain the large somewhat worn looking cardboard boxes full of nerf guns darts and rubber bands. that is a story for another post. anywho, back to the rat. i opened the sliding door as wide as it would go. my plan was to pick up the bubble wrap revealing the rat like the puck in a face off. and i was gonna federov it right out the door. gooooooaaaaaaallllll!!!! in reality the half dead morbidly obese rat kinda plopped out of the wrap and sorta scuttled towards a corner like an animated toaster. i sorta guided it out the door. followed quickly by a grey streak. which i assume was the cat. who suddenly realized that *her* rat was getting away. at which point i went back to work. and promptly found a solution to the problem. maybe i should keep some spare rats at hand to give to the cat whenever i'm stumped at work. hrm... might be on to something there.
speaking of code that behaves poorly... i like to schedule my blog posts for 8:00am. cause tradition. so i jump the hoops. click schedule. tab twice. now, the text in time edit box is selected. all of it. it's all in a blue box. so i hit 8. in a normal well-behaved application this replaces all of the selected text with an 8. but nope. google says that means append. fuckers. but not always. just the first time. if you shift tab and re tab, the text will be selected. hit 8 and the text is replaced. just like it's supposed to. madden. sigh. it's almost like they're trying to drive you crazy.