Incompetence update

For the third time in two business days, Mustafa has implied that atmospheric conditions may have an effect on my building's wifi network.  Specifically, he wondered why the wireless was so slow "even though it's not cloudy out or anything."  The first time, I just dismissed it as me possibly misunderstanding what he had said.  The second time, I was too busy to correct him.  The third time, I felt the aura of his incompetence encroaching and I was forced to flee, lest I be sucked into the swamps of incompetence like stupid, stupid Artex.

A student today complained to Mustafa* that nothing was coming out of one of the printers in the lab, although the other one continued to work.  I'm not sure what Mustafa's troubleshooting procedure was exactly, but he ended up asking me to help diagnose the problem.  Long story short, I printed a page to each printer, then walked into the lab to discover a long line of students waiting for their printing.  Waiting in vain, of course, because there was no paper in the printer.  What the fuck.

I'm not used to being the most conscientious and competent person in my office.  Sometimes when I'm walking across campus I daydream about what it will be like to hire Mustafa's replacement.  

* At least the student went to Mustafa first.  Other than not having to listen to Mustafa chew, the greatest benefit of my tiny private office is that the students have stopped bothering me about every minute thing that happens in the lab next door.  However, I am still treated to some of the most inane and inappropriate hallway conversations, courtesy of large groups of undergrads standing outside my door.  Recent topics have included eyebrow dying, UGGs (!), cell phone bills, and how the undergraduettes (thanks for the word, Baby) outside my office were planning to make Valentine's day "really special" for their boyfriends by breaking out of the humdrum collegiate coitus they have become accustomed to.  I'm sorry, but if you're an 18-year-old and you have to figure out ways to "spice up" your sex life, there might be something wrong with you.

Ur guide 2 English, pt. 1: literally

I have noticed a number of my fellow "netizens" misusing common words and phrases, and as some kind of grammar authoritarian, I feel the need to put some of these common misapplications of English to pasture, like so many abused horses. I think a blog post or two should clear things up for you all, my dear fellow internet users.

We'll start what may be the most commonly misused word on all the internet.

Literally. Definition: "figuratively" or "very." If you want to say something is like, really intensely the way it is, then use the word "literally." For instance, if your head is hurting you very badly, don't simply say that; go for the $5 word and say "my head is literally exploding!" If your head has actually exploded, then you won't be able to express yourself anyway, so there should be no confusion about this one. Baby has pointed out that the British are particularly adept at using the word "literally" in the proper, emphatic sense. This makes sense, considering that the British invented English and are naturally experts in its proper use.

Some purists insist that the word only be used when one is trying to convey that something that is usually referred to metaphorically is actually happening in a non-metaphorical sense. For instance: if a person's flesh actually changes hue when he covets another's property, he could be said to be "literally green with envy." This kind of precision of language is BOORING and should be avoided if you are the kind of person who has an uninhibited, fun and unconventional attitude (e.g. a Pibb Xtra drinker).

When to avoid: 9-1-1 calls.

Happy birthday, Tad

Today marks the birthday of a great friend.  This blog knows him as Chet, Tad, or Barton Keyes.  As usual, he has decided to celebrate in seclusion, but at least this year he gave me fair warning that he was going into hiding.  I kind of wonder what he's afraid would happen if we were to actually celebrate his birth in person.  Perhaps he turns into some sort of werewolf of golem once a year and goes into his secret lair to protect his friends.  Or maybe it's just a massive coke bender.  Who knows?  Only the mysterious cadre he's going out of town with.

  

I kid, I kid!  Happy birthday, man.  Where would Baby and I be without you?  Stuck with nobody to help us move, is where.  Also, my addiction to trucker speed would have surely spiraled out of control by now, and there would be no fine whiskey in my liquor cabinet.  

Don't break anything on the slopes.  

UPDATE: Apparently Tad killed the bottle of Dickel's last time he was at my house.  Damn!  At least some people are easy to shop for.

Potpourri for $500

1. Doppelgänger.

I've found my evil twin. His name is BJ Warshaw and apparently he is some kind of musician or something.  It's kind of weird.  My apologies to people who don't know what I look like, but I'm more or less like a fatter version of him.  Also, I'd never grow my beard quite that long.

Photo credit: Some guy

2. White Winter Hymnal cover.

Check out this amusing Fleet Foxes cover.  I found it on this promising-looking blog I stumbled upon this evening.

3. Nanerpus.

You can call me Nanerpus.  This is another "song" I get stuck in my head on a near-daily basis now, owing largely to Alia's heroic intake of bananas.  She only weighs 28 lbs. but eats two bananas for breakfast and a couple more throughout the day usually.  That's the equivalent of me eating over 250 bananas.  I mean, because I'm allergic to bananas.  That's what makes the math come out so weird.

Skipping work Monday

This weekend I performed a wedding for a very good friend of mine. It was small and elegant, and the groom said "I love you" to me during the vows.  It was that kind of shindig.

Today Baby was studying all day, so I skipped work and went on a bike ride, pulling the kids in our bike trailer.  It was good times.  It was also the first time I've successfully (a) patched a bike tire and (b) used a tire spoon without pinching the tube.  Baby refused to believe that "pinching a tube" wasn't a scatological reference, even when I explained that it's what happens when a "tube" gets stuck on the "rim."  If I go any further with this, I could really up my Google keyword hits, but I don't want to take the easy way out.  

Horseballs

Despite the imminent project deadline, Baby and I decided to make it a date night and called Baby's generous aunt Pam for some babysitting.  We walked to Korea House for pork bulgogi, bibimbap, and "Sexy Girl" sushi rolls.  The waiter thought less of me for ordering the "Sexy Girl" rolls -- for a second it seemed like he was going to tell me I wasn't allowed to order that or something -- but they were very good, once the trachea-swelling avocado was removed.

Overall, it was an A- day -- not too bad for a Monday -- and my older daughter asked me if "God has a wand."  This is not the first theological question she's asked me, but it's definitely the first I feel my MA hadn't prepared me to answer.

A letter to my wife

From the Time Travel Bureau:

Who knew she had such antipathy towards Percy Shelley?  Although her hatred has been seething for quite some time, this comic seems to have acted as a lightning bolt to animate the monster of her rage, sewn together from various elements including the reading of Shelley's terrible poetry, Baby's belief in the superiority of Mary Shelley's writing, and P.B.'s misogyny.  

What a nerd!

Mysteries of my crotch: coffee edition

So I slept through my bus ride home today.  This is not an unusual occurrence.  What was unusual, however, was the fact that when I woke up my crotch and the lower part of my shirt were covered in coffee.  I had a quarter-full travel coffee cup in my bag, but it showed no signs of leakage whatsoever.  The bag was dry, the cup was dry, nothing in the bag even has coffee stains on it.

I have to imagine I would notice if my seatmate or another bus rider spilled coffee on me.  I am forced to conclude it was either a case of spontaneous generation or some new kind of stigmata.