Prosecutors will be Violated
There's this garbage can at our apartment building, right by the mailbox. It's a convenient location, and I'm sure it would be even more so if I ever checked the mail. (Instead, I throw away my bills after my roommates bring them up to me.)
On top of this garbage can is a paper sign, taped on, that tells me that I can only put paper (for recycling) in this garbage can. Now, I don't have anything against recycling. It's not one of the things that I think is a big deal, but when people feel like going out of their way to recycle, I can respect that. The problem I have with this thing is the statement, "Violators will be prosecuted." I can't believe that the Management would actually take legal action against anyone who dirties up the recycle bin. I mean, if they'd have asked nicely, I'm sure I would have complied. I mean, I realize I'm not the nicest guy around, but I do my best to not walk on the grass and not smoke when I'm asked. But seriously, who can blame a guy for throwing a plastic bottle into a can that's labeled like this? It's like they're daring me to do it. I say that if they get a good wad of gum in there, or, say, a shoe, every now and then, that it's their own fault.
Bulldog (Ave.) Rivalry
Grimace: I saw him with you last night.
Oven Mitt: And? He was with you yesterday morning!
Grimace: You must be mistaken....
Oven Mitt: Oh, no. You sit there all high and mighty all day long with your glowing neon tubes. Don't think I don't notice.
Grimace: Well, fine, then. Maybe he was here. But can you blame him? You don't even serve breakfast. How can you ever give him what he needs?
Oven Mitt: Has it ever occurred to you that he's looking for more in a relationship? I don't need to offer him breakfast because I have great deals.
Grimace: Yeah, great deals. Like your 5 for $5? Well, maybe that will keep him coming back if what he's looking for is "cheap and easy."
Oven Mitt: Why don't you come over here and say that to my
face?!
Grimace: You call that a face? You don't even have a nose. Up yours.
Oven Mitt: Slut.
Grimace: Tramp.
Master of BS
I took a test this morning (which I was supposed to take four days ago but I missed because I'm not smart enough to know the testing center's hours). The main problem with tests in computer science (or probably any mathy field) is that you can't really B.S. things like you can in a Triforce major, because there are actually right and wrong answers. The classes that I'm in now don't even give me the benefit of guessing because they have big long questions that require big long answers where you tell (or worse, show) how algorithms work.
So on this test this morning one of the questions is asking me about some security protocol that I never got around to reviewing, and I have absolutely no idea how it works. So, I ask myself, How would I do this? And in the process of asking yourself such a question, it's inevitable to make something up that almost certainly isn't the same as the thing that you were supposed to study instead of making up. This is the explanation that I gave for how a user's certificate gets verified:
The certificate-verify message is the digital signature for the previous message, signed with the client's private key, so the server only has to verify with the certificate that the signature was made using the right key to assure that they are owned by the same party.
I know you're probably reading that and thinking that you don't know enough about computers to understand it, but you're wrong: it doesn't make any sense no matter how much you know. But I sure say it like I know what I'm talking about, don't I?
A Love Story
A little while ago I got involved in a relationship that I wasn't ready for, and, like most, it ended badly. I've been a little ashamed to talk about this, but I think that enough time has passed that I should be able to let everyone know what I went through.
This whole thing happened so suddenly that it's hard to remember exactly where all of this started, but I think that it had something to do with processed meat. You see, I've always respected McDonald's for their world domination, but their food has never been a favorite. Still, for some reason a few weeks ago I found myself craving Chicken McNuggets. I don't even know why I turned to them, but it must have been that they are so plump and juicy, in a way that no marshmallow-free meat could ever compete with. Anyway, I quickly became addicted, and found myself going there night after night (encouraged by the fact that they are now open 24 hours a day).
At first it seemed as innocent as anything else, but things heated up quickly. They released a new spicy chicken sandwich which more than redeemed their previous chicken upgrades, and they gave me handfuls of coupons for free fries and drinks when I would buy the new chicken sandwich. Naturally, I started buying it a lot. Then they gave me more coupons for free cookies and milkshakes, and then they gave me some kind of frequent-eater card so that I could get a free meal after buying a few. Who knew that McDonald's even had such a thing? Where was all of this coming from? There was even a cute girl that would always be free to take my order, as if it was coincidental. I don't know if this had ever happened before, but it was clear that I was being courted by a fast food restaurant, and they were winning me over.
I guess there's various stages of love, and I think infatuation is usually the first. For a while I couldn't get enough. I was eating there every meal of the day. A few times I'd stop by and then before I had even driven all of the way home I'd feel like I needed another fix and I'd have to go back. Even Beto's hadn't gotten such traffic. I think that deep down I knew that I was headed down an unhealthy path, because I would try to throw away the boxes before I got home so that no one would know what I had been up to.
Well, maybe I'd gotten my hopes up, or maybe the infatuation wore off and I was simply left with only the reality of the situation, but one way or another things changed for me. It started when the Orem store gave me the old chicken sandwich (which isn't even supposed to exist anymore) and charged me the new chicken sandwich price for it (when it used to cost a dollar) and wouldn't even take my coupon for the free fries and drink. I wasn't too upset about the coupon, but I didn't realize that they'd given me the wrong sandwich until I was already driving home, and then I was stuck with the bitter remorse of having gone there. I wanted to quit then, but I guess sometimes you stick with something out of inertia even after you realize that it's not good for you.
The next time I visited the local store, I found that the cute girl at the counter, who was eager to give me coupons and have me be a frequent customer, had been replaced by a large stocky woman who looked like she had been lounging in the deep-fat fryer. She was just as eager to have me as a customer as was the last girl, but when she pulled a wad of wrinkled and ketchup-stained coupons out of her pocket to give me, I was considerably less eager to be the customer. I haven't been back since.
Well, my self-disgust has slowly faded, and now I feel like it all turned out for the best. I guess I should have known better (on several levels), but at least now I've learned not to get my hopes up, right? Right?
24
Over Christmas break I got my dad hooked on 24. Now that's all we talk about. He thought it would be fun to write a script of what the show would be like if it were about a day in our lives. Here's a basic outline of what a script for a typical one of my days would be:
- 12:00 pm
- I wake up. Wander around the apartment moaning and coughing for about 15 minutes. I drink some water. Then I get on Halo to see if Troy is online. He's not. I play anyway.
- 1:00 pm
- I'm still playing Halo. Halfway into the episode I get disgusted with myself and decide to "do something." Instead of showering I get on my computer. I check my email. There's an email from one of my coworkers about some problem at work that they need me to come in and fix, and some forwarded cartoon from my sister. I delete both emails and start reading blogs instead.
- 2:00 pm
- I'm still reading blogs. I read all of my friends ones, some of them more than once, and then I make snotty comments on a few of them. I look at the clock and realize that I've missed both of my classes for the day. I decide to do some homework to make myself feel better, so I browse to my class web site and start reading the assignment that was due last week. It still looks time consuming, so I figure that I'll give myself a few minutes to look at the X-Files episode guides before I get started. (It would have been Facebook last week, but I gave that up for Lent.)
- 3:00 pm
- I'm still looking at X-Files. I might have gone to C-net to look at some new gadget that I'll never buy, and then typed in Facebook's address, and then remembered that I can't go there and went back to X-Files.
- 4:00 pm
- I've looked at every web page I could think of, including refreshing Provo Platinum about 8 times, and still there's no new blogs. I then realize that I haven't eaten yet today, so I get up to put shoes on and go find some food. I get ready to leave the apartment for the first time of the day, but then I remember that my car has been broken for weeks and I haven't fixed it because I'm too lazy to go downstairs and make sure that I really know what's wrong with it. I sit back on the couch and get back on the web. I start thinking about starting that homework again.
- 5:00 pm
- The homework looks hard, so I try to think of something else to do, when I remember again that I haven't eaten. Then I go into the kitchen and look at every piece of food I have in the fridge and freezer and pantry, which fortunately are full because my grandma does my grocery shopping, so I make a microwave lasagne. While it's cooking I get on Halo (because I'd hate to waste any time just sitting around waiting for the microwave).
- 6:00 pm
- After playing Halo for about 45 minutes I remember that I have food in the microwave. It's not warm anymore, so I cook it again. Russ gets home and makes fun of me for not having moved from the couch all day, but he keeps me busy long enough to be aware of the bell when the microwave finishes. I eat my lasagne, and then go back to the couch to work on my homework. The food is setting in, though, so I fall asleep before I can even read the web site and remind myself what it is that I've been putting off all day.
- 7:00 pm
- I wake up at the end of the episode when Roundy comes in and asks if I've left the apartment yet today.
- 8:00 pm
- There's now activity in the apartment, so I get up to take a shower. Right before I shower Gabe calls to see what we're doing, I tell him that the guys are just playing darts and to come up and I take a shower. When I get out of the shower, no one is around except for Gabe, who is asleep on our couch. I put pants on.
- 9:00 pm
- Gabe wakes for long enough to complain about how weird his sleep schedule is and then wanders off. I find Aaron and Russ and we go around to some apartments so that Roundy can practice being smarmy (a quality which I think he shares with my grandpa).
- 10:00 pm
- We come back to our apartment and I get on the Internet and tease April until Marissa gets on and virtually yells at me about it. I look up and realize that Russ and Aaron are gone. I call them again and Aaron says that they told me where they were going but I wouldn't stop paying attention to the computer long enough to listen to him so they left me. April goes to bed. I look at the blogs again and no one has written anything, so I go downstairs to Aaron's apartment. We watch Russ and Ryan play Dr. Mario and all anyone talks about is how weird Gulie is.
- 11:00 pm
- They're still playing Dr. Mario. Ryan stops playing and gets on the Internet to look at some stupid videos, and Russ practices beating Rudy. (That's an evil clown on the game.)
- 12:00 am
- My brain is turned off, but I think Russ is still playing Dr. Mario. Roundy goes to bed.
- 1:00 am
- Our self-imposed curfew takes effect, and Russ and I go back up to our apartment. I sit on the couch and get back on the Internet. I don't have any email and there's no new blogs. I'm not tired yet, so I figure that I'll be really productive and write that program for my homework that I've been putting off all day. I get on the web site yet again, but before I do anything I decide to write this blog.
- 2:00 am
- I'm awake and on the Internet. I have my program open, but I haven't made any progress on it. Carlos gets home so Russ decides that he can go to sleep now.
- 3:00 am
- I'm still on the Internet. If anyone knows what I do during these hours, can you please tell me? As far as I know I'm in a coma.
- 4:00 am
- Russ comes out of his room frustrated that he fell asleep reading and then woke himself up when the book fell out of his hands and onto his face. Now he's not tired and can't go back to sleep. We start talking about politics and how we ought to be the world dictators.
- 5:00 am
- We're still talking about being dictators, but Russ decides to put a movie in and try to go back to sleep. He picks some movie from 1942 that no one has ever heard of, but it seems interesting to me, so I end up watching it and not paying attention to my homework.
- 6:00 am
- Somewhere during this episode I end up falling asleep. Carlos comes out and has to leave to take Eva to work or something, so I wake up. The movie is still going and Russ is still awake. I go in to my bed and sleep. (That's a new part of my life in the last few months, too.)
- 7:00 am
- I'm asleep. I have no idea what happens in the world.
- 8:00 am
- Still asleep.
- 9:00 am
- Still asleep. My first class starts without me on campus somewhere. (I don't know where exactly, since I haven't been to the class yet this semester.)
- 10:00 am
- I wake up part-way through the episode and I come out to the living room. Russ is awake and has cleaned the whole apartment. I feel guilty, but not so much as to make me do anything to help him. Instead I feel less guilty just for being present while he's cleaning so I lay on the couch and start to read my physics homework. I fall back asleep.
- 11:00 am
- I'm still asleep. Again.
And I think that's the end of the season. A day in the life of me. I don't know why they don't make me the main character in that show. Jack Bower is boring by comparison.
My Grandma's View
My grandparents came down to visit me yesterday and they brought me some groceries (which is really one of the best services a person can do me since I have no idea how to buy groceries for myself and usually just resort to letting a fast-food restaurant save me that step). Here's a few of the things that they brought me:
I'm not embarrassed to admit that I'm a chubby boy, but it seems like my grandma is also aware of this, since she insists on bringing me diet food. The vanilla in the Coke helps it not taste so much like poison, but diet peanut butter is something to which no one should ever be subject. I think it's just a better-disguised version of when Russ makes you eat a sugar packet full of salt.
It's hard for me to know if Grandma does this because she wants me to stop being such a fat lard, because in addition to the diet food, she also brought me this pile of candy (and a large portion of the accumulated popcorn in our apartment has built up from her visits):
Maybe she's just trying to balance me out so that I'll maintain my current level of obesity, never changing in one direction or the other.
On top of this garbage can is a paper sign, taped on, that tells me that I can only put paper (for recycling) in this garbage can. Now, I don't have anything against recycling. It's not one of the things that I think is a big deal, but when people feel like going out of their way to recycle, I can respect that. The problem I have with this thing is the statement, "Violators will be prosecuted." I can't believe that the Management would actually take legal action against anyone who dirties up the recycle bin. I mean, if they'd have asked nicely, I'm sure I would have complied. I mean, I realize I'm not the nicest guy around, but I do my best to not walk on the grass and not smoke when I'm asked. But seriously, who can blame a guy for throwing a plastic bottle into a can that's labeled like this? It's like they're daring me to do it. I say that if they get a good wad of gum in there, or, say, a shoe, every now and then, that it's their own fault.
