Monday, April 30, 2007


Okay, I've Go0ogled, but so far come up empty. Everything I've found so far that mentions actual recycling for old computers is about actual recycling (not finding strange new uses), like gettin' rid of tires. I'm lookin' for a re-using kinda thing, like makin' sandals out of those old tires...

Ya see...

One of those big Bondi-blue Mac 17" displays quit on us this afternoon. Not that I'm really worried about being down one, 'cause I've got four or five more of 'em; it's just that I hate to just toss it into the dumpster.

Way back ten years or so ago, there was a guy in Tulsa who made these nifty little aquariums out of the old Mac Color Classics (and I'm guessing he made 'em with a few others of the same shape) -- A cool idea if I ever saw one, he'd really put the stuff together with the glass/lexan/whatever shaped to fit perfectly where the screen would have been and a light to shine on the fishies and even a built-in aquarium pump inside the shell of the old computer with an original-lookin' cord comin' out the back. I remember meeting him while I was with Pete, and I got to see a couple of the aquariums at Computer Warehouse over on 41st Street -- but I'm not even completely sure that store is still there or even still in operation. There was talk of turning dead laptops into Ant Farms or Picture Frames, but I don't think anything ever became of it.

It hasn't been too long ago that I discovered the perfect recycle-ish use for my ol' Packard Bell from Pre-Y2K; it makes a perfect little stand to get my iMac up off the desk where I'm not scrunched over lookin' down at it.

There's got to be some "cool" re-use for this big blue-n-white plastic shell, other than target practice or bridge-bowling. I don't completely rule out bridge-bowling though - heh, it's good & heavy, probably heavier than my dead microwave that I tossed over the edge a few years ago, so I'm sure it would make a nice crash & splash, but it's Mac Stuff! Even Dead Mac Stuff is cooler than a garage-sale microwave, right? And besides, if I'm gonna "recycle" the thing, tossin' it off a bridge and into a creek probably goes against the whole idea of recycling to cut down on garbage anyway.

It's a little too big for a reasonable piggy bank and a little too small for a reasonable bookshelf, so I'm thinkin' more and more about the aquarium idea, but I've been told that tearin' into a monitor can zap-yer-ass even if it hasn't had power to it for quite a while...

Maybe if I can just get the plastic shell off & save it and then pitch the rest...


De-lurk, comment, e-mail; especially if you know where that guy went! ;)

More later. _\,,/


Friday, April 27, 2007

Superficial sends a Postcard; Real sends a Letter...

Y'all know how I love PostSecret, right?

Well, this one really caught my eye:

Dear PostCardExBoyfriend:

It's okay, I'm fine, don't worry about me. I met someone, a man, not a junior-high boy, and he cares about me enough to love me for who I am, not what I look like. He's a great guy who's mature enough to know that dumping a girl because of what his buddies say is not the right thing to do -- and his friends respect him enough to understand that who he dates is none of their damn business.

You'll be fine too, I'm sure it won't be long before you find a nice thin girl that your friends approve of; but don't be surprised if she doesn't like your friends and tries to make you stay away from them so that she can choose your friends for you. Hell, one of your friends might even have a nice Barbie-lookin' girl in mind for you; probably some skank he's already been bangin'.

Go on, have your fun, enjoy that thin girl, 'cause hey, it's all about makin' your friends happy with your choices. She might be irritating, scared of your car, hate your taste in music and never ever get along with your family, but as long as your friends think she's cute, I guess that's good enough. She may not ever cook you any food that's fit to eat, and her little dog will probaby jump out of her purse and piss on your couch, but as long as she's not "a fat girl," I'm sure that'll be alright, won't it? She might not really care about you at all, and she may have three or four bastard kids that'll tear up your baseball cards and wreck all your model cars and shove a peanut butter sandwich into your VCR, but as long as she looks good in her short shorts, that'll be no problem, huh? She may want to move in with you after a couple dates and bring her Mom to live with ya'll too, and then she might have shitty credit and want you to put her name on your checking account just so she can drain it like she did the last several guys she was with. Sure, she's tiny & cute, but If you broke your leg tonight, could she get your ass into the truck to take you to the emergency room?

If she irritates the hell out of you but you let her stick around 'cause she's that girl that your friends like, are you really doing something to make yourself happy? If you can't stand her, then what are you really getting out of that situation, besides the risk of diseases?

True Friends will try to keep each other away from those lifesucking relationships, but some people never seem to learn.

If your friends don't respect you enough to shut their mouths about what your girl looks like, are they really the best choice for friends? I'll let you make the call on that one.

If you're not mature enough to let your own feelings dictate your relationships, are you really the best choice for me? No. If you're not willing to stand up for me and tell your friends to look into my eyes instead of at my ass, are you really the best choice for me? No.

If you're willing to dump me just because of what your friends say, were you ever really in love with me? No.

If you're willing to dump me because of what your friends say, have I really lost anything here? No.

Thanks so much for letting me see the real you before I got in too deep...

Best Wishes;
The Fat Girl.

PS: It's not that I hate all the "Thin Girls," some of 'em have beautiful hearts, but you'll never get to see real beauty if you don't learn to look for it... I didn't write a letter attacking "Thin Girls," I wrote a letter attacking your superficiality.

Love is about what you feel when you look into someone's eyes; and that's all I know to say about that...

More later... _\,,/

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Friday, April 20, 2007

Get Out Your Ol' Foreigner 8-Tracks...

'Cause it feels like the first time!

It's Friday and it's finally time for Opening Night! That old familiar magical Buzz of anticipation is here, just like it was most of the whole first year, and I'm enjoyin' it! It's nowhere near the full-on-near-panic fellings of unprovoked anxiety, thankfully, it's more like a real smooth fast-idle. And it's magic. Did I mention that already? It is, it's just magic and that's all I know to say about it.

The Buzz used to set in about lunchtime Thursday and just stay with me 'til time to leave work to go to the track on Friday Nights. Over the years, it's slacked off a bit 'til it just sorta comes and goes; but it's here right now and that's fine by me!

I'm hoping tonight at least comes close to going as well as the last night I raced last season...

And I'm havin' a hard time standin' still to type.

More later... _\,,/


Thursday, April 19, 2007

Your Attention Please, Auction Sellers...

(How sad is it that I'm typing "Auction" because the HoMeSkOoLeRz use G00gle to find that one particularly huge online auction site?)

Online Auction Sellers, and other folks who ship things through the mail or UPS, this one's for you.

Please, please, be sure to carefully pack those items so that they arrive safe and un-damaged. Do I really have to tell y'all this??

Take a look at this little item right here:

This is the "Hub," found in the center of every CD and DVD box. Now, in a CD box, you can get away with being a little careless because there's no room for the CD to move around inside the box, with or without the hub. When shipping a DVD, the hub is very important because a DVD box is significantly larger where there's room for the DVD to slide around. Everybody knows the Post Office is not very careful with things and the Mail Man has more imoportant things to do than to carefully carry that padded envelope so that the disc does not move around. Sellers and Shippers, it's your job to make sure the DVD is pressed onto the hub like this:

If you can hear the disc rattling about inside the box, it will rattle about inside the box, sanding the hell out of the play-surface of the disc, all the way from wherever you are to wherever the buyer, who paid good money for that disc, is waiting for it to arrive. We, as buyers, spend our money to buy movies because we want to watch movies, not because we need shiny coasters -- which is basically what we get when you fail to make sure the disc is seated on the hub before sealing the envelope.

This disc won't play:

I have enough coasters; when I want to buy a movie, I want to see a movie; not a shiny coaster.

That's all for now, end-of-rant.


Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Weekend Update, Via Disjointed Wednesday...

One Of The Coolest Things I Saw In Joplin:

The Hearse Show was a pretty cool little get-together; saw some fun stuff, visited with some fun people, did a little shopping. We had a nice trip -- and don't ya know, I couldn't pass up an out-of-state Hobby Lobby. I carried home some clearance sale needles and a book about Sock Knitting; I just haven't had time to read any of it yet.


I'm wearing my "Squirrels Gone Wild" shirt today, and I'm gonna wear it to Church tonight. Not that I want anyone to Worship me or anything, I'm just goin' for a laugh or tow, Squirreldammit.


HoMeSkOoL DaD just re-discovered Go0gle M@ps... I'd been lookin' through a list of yards tryin' to decide which one was closest and could possibly meet me halfway with a Chrysler door to get my ass out of a trap and I didn't close the window. He's over there surfin' around the map, and it still has my "Lebanon, MO" in the search blank. He's surfed west a good bit, and decides he wants to see Moab. Now, I appreciate the curiosity -- I get a kick outta lookin' at the satellite images as much as anybody else. He asks "So how do I get to see Moab?" So I tell him that he can type it in the box and it'll put an arrow to it, and I turn back to what I'm doing. I've typed a bit, caught up on some blogs, and then he says "How come it's in Arizona and it won't let me see Moab?" and when I turn to look, he's got "Mojave" typed in the box.

"Well, that's not Moab, is it?"


The Skiatook McDonald's SUCKS, and no, I didn't G0ogle-proof that. It SUCKS like a brand-new Shop-Vac and I work too far away from it to drive back up there for my damn chicken and this is the second time something like this has happened. This time, I checked the bag before I drove away and there was a box in there -- but there were only four of 'em in it, even though it had 6's all over it. I guess even those illiterate illegals who can't even count to six have to work somewhere, but gawd, if I wanted Quatro nuggets, I would've got a damn grumpy meal so I could have a toy along with it.

I was quite seriously considering that Microwave-Oatmeal-for-Lunch idea, but the Microwave made a creepy popping noise and quit makin' heat this morning.


It's white pill week, bitch week, but I swear that's not my sole reason for bein' bitchy.


On a lighter note, the white paint on the side of the ol' Twenty-Bago turned out a lot better than I'd expected; it looks much better than that Grey Primer that had been sprayed over the vinyl because somebody didn't want to mess with peelin' it off.


I'm quittin' before I get bitchy again...

More later. _\,,/

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Thursday, April 05, 2007

The Category is: Words that end with "ers."

I've had this rant on my mind about the oh-so-lovely couple who rode in on their crotch rockets to have dinner at Chick-Fil-A on 71st Street one night last week. I say "couple," but I can't say for sure if one of 'em was a woman or not, but I do know that they're both assholes.

Parking in the handicapped spot (those are the ones with the cartoon wheelchairs painted on 'em, in case that wasn't clear) without a permit is not good, but I'll be more willing to forgive it if you get out of the car lookin' old & tired or struggling with a cast or brace. Climbing off a ball-rocket motorcycle generally rules out the extremely aged or injured.

Non-impaired... No, wait, non-impaired isn't the right word since we are talking about people who are most likely mentally deficient, and that is an impairment... People who aren't dealing with an actual physical problem but choose to take the handicapped parking space anyway are jerks. People who park on top of the damn ramp are fucking jerks.

Seriously, how fucking inconsiderate do you have to be to think it's okay to put your fucking motorcycles in that striped space between the first handicapped parking space and the door of the restaurant? It's not like it was midnight, it was 7:30 and the place was full; full of families, from kids to old people, people of all sorts, no tellin' who else might've showed up who might actually need to park in that spot; but you took it upon yourself to decide that whoever might need that spot most likely wouldn't need that extra space that was marked-off with striped paint. Naaah, no chance anybody might need some extra room for their wheelchair lift -- of course not, that space three feet from the door was just for your bikes. Yeah. Assholes.

Just so I'm not stepping on the wrong toes, (I know I'm stepping on toes, I'm just making sure I'm stepping on the right ones), "Bikers" wasn't the "ers" word I had in mind. When I hear the word "Bikers," I think of the guys with big Harleys and lotsa hair and tattoos and black leather vests with the names of their fallen comrades embroidered onto patches.

The couple who parked their rockets in the handicapped loading area were not Bikers. They were part of another group of "ers." They climbed off the motorcycles and took off their handy shopliftin' coats and then one of 'em checked to make sure his saggin' pants fell back down below the line of his boxers, and the other one was wearing a US Postal Polo shirt; now wouldn't the mail man be proud of that co-worker?

It just goes to show, Assholery comes in all colors and does not discriminate...

It just saddens me to think there wasn't some angry disabled Veteran with a hankering for some fried chicken that night -- It would've warmed my heart to see a big ol' 3/4-ton van pull in there and knock 'em both down with a side door.

More later. _\,,/