asofyetunamed

What Is the Thinking?

2010-06-03T08:52:00.001-07:00

I had an feeling when the phone rang that things were about to get stupid.

“How may I help you?”

“Hey, yeah, uh could you try and help me fix my computer over the phone, so that I won’t have to bring it in and pay for you to do it?”

“…. Well, what’s wrong with it?”

“It won’t turn on all the way. It keeps getting stuck on a black screen with lots of words on it.”

“I see. Sorry, but I can’t do anything for you over the phone. You’ll have to bring it in. Something like that has the potential to be a complicated fix.”

“Oh, um, really? You can’t just help me fix it over the phone?”

Yes, um, really! I’ll even make you pay. Moron. Seriously, what the heck? You wouldn’t call the doctor’s office and ask him or her to spend a half hour helping you diagnose your crazy skin disorder over the phone, would you? You, my friend, are one step below a free-loader. How you manage to live in society is beyond me. Do you think we can just give you a secret phrase that you can type on your keyboard that will instantly fix all of your computer problems? I just don’t understand. I really don’t, but now I have a headache. A stupid headache, if you will.

Things I’ve Thought About While Not Working at Work.

2010-04-15T09:12:00.000-07:00

If I ever obtain supreme power, one of my first orders of business will be to establish the Department of Stupid. The sole purpose of this department will be to prevent stupid people from causing the rest of us too much grief. For example, in order to own or operate a computer, you must first be deemed not stupid. There would be a test to determine your computer using fate. Also, cars.

I think it would be much, much, much cooler in church meetings if we replaced the word “amen” with the phrase “so say we all.”

The Man from Snowy River recently regained its title as my favorite movie of all time.

If offered, I would seriously consider driving past PETA headquarters and a mob of angry tree huggers in a Bugatti Veyron, modified to run off of puppies, if it meant I could have one.

Mr. Osborn and the Case of the Missing Power Adapter.

2010-04-08T10:00:00.000-07:00

Once every full moon or so, we get a customer in the shop that adds to my definition of stupidity. I try to be positive towards everyone I have dealings with. It makes life much more pleasant. However, when the Universe sends me people like the one I’m about to describe, I find myself at a loss as to how to be positive. It all started three days after he took his laptop home from having us remove viruses and spyware.

“Ya’ll didn’t get the bugs off. They’re still there.” He whined over the phone.

“Were they there when you turned the computer on for the first time?” I asked.

“No, it took a few days, but sure ‘nuff they’re back. I paid ya’ll over a hundred bucks to get ‘em off, but they’re still there!”

“Ok, bring it back and I’ll take a look at it.”

He brought his computer back to the shop and I took a look. Sure enough, his computer was infested with all manner of malware. I’m not exactly sure what he did in those three days to get nearly every malware ever coded back onto his laptop, but I have my guesses. That’s not important. I ended up formatting his laptop and sending him home with a perfectly clean system.

Four days later.

“I just went to plug in my laptop, but ya’ll didn’t give me the power cord back.” He whined over the phone. Again.

I remembered very clearly putting the power adapter in the front pocket of his carrying case.

“Have you checked all the pockets?”

“Of course I have. I checked everywhere. I’m not stupid. You know, I’m getting really tired of the poor service I’m receiving from you guys. This'll be the second time I have to bring my laptop back.”

“Ok, well, I have a couple of power adapters here. Why don’t you bring your laptop back and we’ll see if any of them are yours.”

A few hours later he arrived with his laptop inside of his carrying case. He first asked if he could use our restroom and while he was in the back, my co-worker opened up the front pocket of his case, reached in and pulled out his power adapter.

Looked everywhere my arse!

The Three Dumbest Types of People, as far as using a computer is concerned.

2010-03-11T08:31:00.000-08:00

3 - White Trash.

"Hey man, I got this same virus again! Can you guys cut me a deal this time? I really, really can't afford to keep bringing in my computer for the same bleeping virus every week!"

Hells no! Can a heroine addict count on a price cut just because he or she needs two fixes a day now instead of one? Stop looking at porn, stop downloading illegal files, stop clicking on every silly advertisement you see while doing said activities, and you just might be ok. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

2 - Dentists.

The worst thing about a dentist using a computer, or Lords of Kobol forbid, a network of computers, is that they think that just because they went to dental school, they actually have a fully functional brain. In fact, dentists have significant amounts of brain damage to the key memory forming parts of their brain, specifically the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex and hippocampus. They honestly are incapable of remembering how to solve the simplest of problems. For instance, I do work for half a dozen dentists, and not a single one of them can remember how to delete their temporary internet files, yet they call and ask me how to do it almost every single month. C'mon, it's not that hard to remember. We're talking 5 mouse clicks. And then, out of nowhere, one of the dentists will try to reformat his hard drive and call me when they can't figure out how to install Windows. How many times have I told them not to do that? I honestly don't know. I do know that I am constantly impressed by their rather impressive lack of memory function. I just hope these "doctors" actually remember their dental procedures...

1 - Contractors

In my experience, and remember that I only ever talk to contractors when they are having computer problems, contractors are about as intelligent as the average swine.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if every contractor in the greater O-Town area was capable of listening to more than three words at a time. Maybe.

Take the fine owner of "Stupidline Industries," who called the other day.

I said "How may I..."

He interrupted "How do I backup my QuickBooks file to a flash drive to give to my accountant?"

"Ok, have you..."

"And now, this is only going to include stuff from 2009, right?"

"That depends on..."

"It's not working. I've been trying for an hour now, but I can't see how to do it."

"Ok, follow these..."

"Wait, I'm seeing something on my screen now that wasn't there before. What is it?"

Is this a fraking guessing game? How the heck am I supposed to know what just appeared on your screen? Honestly, do you really think, in that puny, I-can't-believe-it-can-actually-support-life brain of yours, that I know exactly what is appearing on YOUR screen right this minute? *sight... Ok... But you have to give me a hint first.

(The above phone call happened not two hours after the one below. I've changed the names of the people and the company for comic effect.)

"This is Matt, how may I help you?"

"Hi Matt, it's 80 here, you know, as in my IQ. Listen, I've got something really weird going on down here."

"Ok, what is going on?"

"There is this funny icon at the bottom of my screen. It looks like a castle with a flag."

"Uh huh..."

"Well, it used to be green, but now it's orange!"

"Ok, well, if you remember, that icon represents your anti-virus software. Have you tried double clicking on it? No? Ok, do that and tell me what it says."

"It say's I need to click this button to do an update."

"Ok, go ahead now and click the button for me."

"K... ooohhh. Now it's green again. Does this mean I'm ok?"

"Sure does..."

NOT

Annoying Customer of the Week

2009-11-19T09:55:00.000-08:00

Annoying Customer: “Matt, help me. I’ve got a virus. You’ll need to pay a visit here today.”

Me: “Ok, what kind of virus do you have…?” *in my mind “Is it AIDS?”

Annoying Customer: “I don’t know. Microsoft is telling me that there are a bunch of infections, and something keeps popping up and now we can’t see the screen and then our Quickbooks is too big and then it pops up and does a scan and tells us that we are infected with a Trojan and then when we try and click it doesn’t do anything. It say’s I need to click here to download something to fix the problem. Is that Microsoft telling me I need to download something? Should I do it?”

Me: “Hmm… so, there is a window popping up telling you that you are infected and that you need to download something in order to fix the problem?”

Annoying Customer: “Yes.”

Confused Me: "Ok, that thing that is popping up, claiming to be Microsoft, is actually the infection itself."

Annoying Customer: "They can do that?"

Annoyed Me: "Yes."

Confused Me: “And you said it is doing something with your Quickbooks and won’t let you click anything?”

Annoying Customer: “Yes, well, I mean I think so. It’s just really big.”

Confused Me: “Big?”

Annoying Customer: “Yeah, it’s too big to fit on the screen.”

Confused Me: “..... ..... Ok. Well, it sounds like you just have a pretty fun virus infection. I can come over in a few hours to take care of it for you.”

*A few hours and one twenty minute drive to this man’s business later…

Annoying Customer: “Ok, here it is, come take a look and see what you can do.”

Me: “Oh, yeah, I’ve seen this infection before. I should be able to get it off.”

*Matt runs a virus scan and removes the virus…

Me: “Ok, the virus is gone and everything seems to be working fine.”

Annoying Customer: “So, how did we get this virus? Should we have gotten a different computer?”

Me: “I’m not sure how you got it, probably in a bad email attachment or something. The computer you are using doesn’t really make any difference. The difference mostly lies in your anti-virus/malware software."

Annoying Customer: “So, now that it’s off, it can’t come back again, right?”

Annoyed Me: “No, it’s like I’ve explained before, just because you get rid of a virus doesn’t mean that it can’t come back.”

Annoying Customer: “So how can we prevent it from happening again?”

Annoyed Me: “Just don’t open suspicious emails or download anything that you’re not 100% sure of.”

Annoying Customer: “Well, what if it happens by accident? Isn’t there any other way to be sure?”

Annoyed Me: “You could disconnect the internet.”

Annoying Customer: “Well, we can’t do that, we need the internet, we just don’t need the viruses.”

Annoyed Me: “You and everybody else.”

Annoying Customer: “So, this virus can’t come back, right?”

Annoyed Me: *in my head “Are you fracking serious?” *audibly “Only if you let it back in.”

Annoying Customer: “How is our virus protection? Is our virus protection going to stop all the viruses from getting in?”

Annoyed Me: “It should catch most of them, but no anti-virus program is perfect. Just watch what email attachments you open and what files you download off the internet and don’t let anyone look at porn.”

Annoying Customer: “Who makes these viruses? They should really do something to stop them.”

Really Annoyed Me: *In my head… “I want to write a virus that shuts you up. And who do you mean by “they?”” *out loud… “Just people up to no good. There are laws that try to prevent people from creating viruses, but a ton of them come from overseas…”

Exactly.

2009-11-03T12:42:00.000-08:00

Adventures in Octogenarian Land

2009-10-31T00:02:00.000-07:00

It was a slow day at the shop. Aside from a few customers coming to the shop in search of various computer parts, there was peace in computer land. The hours passed by quickly from opening time to one o’clock in the afternoon, a common side effect of a tranquil work environment which allows for nearly continuous work on computers without interruption. Then, a quarter after one, a pair of unlikely computer users in the form of octogenarians came. They came like most old people come. Smiling, walking approximately two feet apart from each other, as most old couples I see do, and walking rather slowly. The old man held the laptop case in his hand. I knew from the way the old lady’s eyes latched onto mine that this was a visit being made after considerable effort had been put in to resolving whatever issue was at hand. Those visits are NEVER fun. Never. Never, that’s important to know. Never fun. Not once. Ever.

“Hi there! What can I do for you today?” I greeted, successfully hiding my true feelings from view.

“Well,” the old lady started. “We can’t figure out what the password is on this new computer that you guys put on. We’ve been trying it for days ever since we picked it up.”

“So, this is a new laptop you bought from us? And you aren’t sure what the password is to get on?”

Now, we never put passwords on user accounts in Windows unless the customer asks us to. I figured that it was possible that they asked us to set up a password for them, and we had mistakenly mistyped it, explaining their current predicament.

“Let’s take a look at it here and see if we can’t get things squared away.” I offered. I’ve discovered that old people respond well to the phrase “get things squared away.”

I took the laptop and set it on the counter and turned it on. After a few seconds Windows had booted up and was waiting at the logon screen, but it was the logon screen that has you type the username in one line and the password in another line. I noticed that their laptop has a biometric scanning device (aka a fingerprint scanner), which uses software that causes Windows to only logon in this manner.
Now, since I have been dealing with computer problems for a long time, I know that most of the time problems people have are either non-existent of very easily resolvable (remember my first blog entry ever?). To that end, I hit enter without entering a password in. Not surprisingly, there was no password. Windows let me in without a fuss, just by pressing the enter key.

“Looks like there was no password. You just have to keep it blank and it will let you right in.” I stated, looking into the eyes of one seriously bothered octogenarian woman. Her stare almost gave me the willies. Almost.

“My goodness!” She responded, “All that time I spent trying to figure out the password and there never was one?”

“Yup. We have a strict policy of only putting passwords on computers if requested.” I tried to sound professional, hiding the ever slight tone of mocking in my voice. I really do try to be nice.

She looked at me for a few more seconds, then at the computer, then back to me. After repeating this for the third or so time, she looked up. I thought we were done. Congratulations, I thought to myself. That was entirely not as unpleasant as it could have been!

For a moment, I was happy.

Then.

“Wait, while we’re here.” She started.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” I screamed inside my head.

“While we’re here, can you show my husband how to do that? This is his computer, and I want him to be able to do that when we get home.”

“Sure thing.” I responded, supposing that maybe something as easy as pressing one button really did merit extra practice.

So, I logged out of the account, and told the old man, who was now standing at my side, to press the enter button. He did. It worked. I wanted him to throw his hands in the air and shout “Yatta!” Like Hiro Nakamura on Heroes when he accomplishes something great.

“Ok,” the woman added, “now can you show him again how to access his Naturally Speaking program?”

“… Sure…”

With the man in front of the laptop, looking straight at his desktop, I started guiding him towards his goal.

“Ok, now you need to move the cursor to where that green icon is at the left side of the screen.”

A few seconds passed.

“There’s the cursor, right there.” I said, pointing with my finger to the cursor on his screen, which rested near the upper right hand corner. I suddenly knew that the cursor was about to embark on an epic journey across the monitor. I was soooooo right.

“And where do I need to put the cursor?” The old man inquired.

“Right here,” I encouraged as I pointed to the green icon for the SECOND time.

He then put his fingers on the touchpad and started to move them. The cursor didn’t know what to think. Try using three fingers on a touchpad to move the cursor accurately. It can be done, but it doesn’t make things easy. Three minutes passed while he tried to get the cursor over the little green icon, all the while ignoring my advice that one finger on the touchpad might suffice. Three whole minutes!

Finally, he got the cursor where he wanted it. “Now what?” He asked. “Now, you click this button twice as fast as you can.” I replied, praying with everything I had that he would be able to do this without bumping the cursor off its target. Apparently, I had enough faith, because he successfully opened his program.

“Now,” his wife, not waiting two seconds, started again to my extreme horrification. “Let’s have him do it all from the beginning, so he can do it when we get home.”

I died a little on the inside.

Another ten minutes were spent directing him from logging into Windows to opening his Naturally Speaking software. When he opened up the program for the second time, I thought perhaps we were done. I should have known better. His wife, who all this time had been on the opposite side of the counter, decided to come to our side so that she could better see the screen. When she arrived, seeing his program opened, she started asking even more stupid questions.

“Why does it say that the microphone is turned off?” She started off with.

“Because no microphone is plugged in.” I answered as bluntly as I knew how.

“What does he do now with the program?” She continued, not missing a beat.

“Whatever he wants to do.” I answered honestly. Geez, why did you people buy the program in the first place? Surely there was an objective. Why not try accomplishing that? Oh wait, I think I know the answer to that one…

“Ok, can you tell me all of that again, so that I can write it down?” Her voice was really starting to bug.

“From where exactly?” I asked, honestly not knowing exactly what she wanted me to tell her.

“From the beginning.”

“… … … … Ok…” I complied, feeling my strength leave me.

I started dictating instructions while she jotted them down, word for word, beginning with “press the power button to turn the laptop on,” and ending with something like “then begin using the program to do whatever it is you turned on the computer to do in the first place.”

I’m not sure how much time passed between when they walked in and when they left. I do know that it took an episode of Modern Family and Fringe on Hulu to recover from it.

Speakers Don't Work by Faith Alone

2009-10-24T12:55:00.000-07:00

Today, a man of distinct, non-pleasurable odor and form returned to the shop for the third time in two weeks. The height-challenged man first came to use to have some viruses removed. Three or so days after he retrieved his computer from us, he returned claiming that the sound no longer worked. Eager to change the location of this man to somewhere outside of the shop as soon as humanly possible, I agreed to take a quick look at his computer to see if I could solve his problem on the spot. I booted up his computer, told him that if he wanted sound he would have to de-mute his volume, and sent him on his way.

Now, because I forgot to offer up my daily sacrifices, as I arrived to work this morning, I spotted the short, smelly man waiting for us to open up shop. I opened the door, expressed a highly falsified happy greeting, and asked him what I could do for him. He explained that his speakers still didn’t work. I took a step back to grab a breath of air. This time he decided to bring us his speakers along with his computer for us to look at. I told him that I wouldn’t be able to look at his computer right away, as the workbench was completely full. He said he would come back later in the day. Thank George Lucas he didn’t want to wait around. The smell would have killed me. Anyway, I plugged in his speakers and everything worked just fine. That’s right, just fine. When he came back, he looked somewhat surprised to hear sound coming out of his speakers. He told me that he had spent upwards of ten hours messing around with things, trying to get his sound to work. He then came over and took a closer look at how everything was plugged in. He suddenly took on an air of despair and sighed. He looked at where the power adapter plugs into the back of the sub woofer and said, “So, the power… the power has to be plugged in too? Oh…”

Forty five dollars and a stinky shop later, he left with what he could muster of his pride. Maybe he won't come back for a while. Either way, I'll never forget to offer up my morning sacrifices again!

4 Stupid Phrases I’ve Recently Heard at Work

2009-10-23T21:44:00.000-07:00

1- “We need to get on our horse and go!” Said LG (the boss) nonchalantly, yet full of energy as he walked past my co-worker and I one weekday morning moments after arriving to work. The phrase hung in the air cold and alone as LG continued walking by. In my head (as I have learned better than to voice questions that might elicit undesired explanations), I questioned. Yes, boss? I might need a little help understanding this one. Boss? Care to elaborate? Boss? Do we have a horse we need to get on? Boss? Boss?

2- “I also need to have at least 4 gigawatts of RAM.” Said the fifty year old man with the mind of an octogenarian. This strange requirement followed a nearly fifteen minute explanation as to why his new computer would need a fast processor and the internet. It was followed by another thirty minutes of explaining why he needed a five hundred megabyte hard drive to store his vast collection of pictures and a video card so that he could do his genealogy. Sometimes I correct people when they use incorrect terminology. Other times I think about blogging.

3- In the would-be-spoken words of Captain Jean luc Picard, the not-so-captain of any intergalactic starship spoke commandingly to his computer via one newly installed speak-to-type program “Computer, please open my word processing program.” A few moments passed by with no results. “Computer, computer?” Oh boy.

4- “Do we have the um… thing ready for… um… what’s his nuts?” Another LG statement. It was made about ten times better when he stood there, completely expecting me to understand and respond to his question.

I wish I could have made this a list of five, but it's late and for the life of me I cannot remember anything else, even though I am more than certain there are more.

Once Upon a Time...

2009-09-01T20:34:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, I:

- Listened to Dave Matthews Band for the first time in Jr. High and fell in love with their music.

- Spent 14 years listening to their music, hoping to one day see them live.

- Got excited when they were coming to town in 2008.

- Got unexcited when the show was cancelled.

- Got super excited / bought tickets early in 2009 when they announced a show in WVC.

- Got super unexcited when my wife and I arrived at the concert early, only to be greeted by a sign saying that the show was once again cancelled, or as they beautifully put it "postponed."

- Hunted down the fates and killed them.

(Everyone should be experiencing an increase in luck right about now. No need to thank me.)

It's Riddle Time

2009-08-27T10:38:00.000-07:00

Look at that. I'm alive. Yes, I'm alive and I have a riddle. It only took me like two days to solve the bugger. Now I'm sharing it with you. Those of you who play video games may have already heard it.

The answer is three numbers. Nine are we when taken all three. Last one slain, then six remain. None survive, our first less five.

Be Prepared

2009-03-02T16:45:00.001-08:00

I emerge from the depths of wherever it is I've been for the last month or so to bring you this... Please enjoy it as much as I did!

Are Violent Video Games Adequately Preparing Children For The Apocalypse?

The Pain in my Brain

2009-01-22T10:14:00.000-08:00

I recently emerged from lying on the cold concrete floor of my shop in the fetal position to write this entry. It is not easy to make me lay on the ground in such fashion, unless you are tickling me or enticing me with food. So let me just say right from the start that the reason for my pre-infant like behavior was talking on the phone for nearly thirty minutes with one of the dumbest people I’ve ever had the misfortune to encounter. Worse, she’s on her way here! (Kids, this is what happens when you forget to offer up your sacrifices in the morning…) Please allow me to vent and share the pain that I feel.

“This is Matt, how may I help you?” I answered the phone, full of life and energy at the hope of having a wonderfully wonderful day.

“Hello? Hello? This is Linda, hello? Are you Jason? This is Linda. Hello?” A raspy voice responded.

“I’m sorry, Jason isn’t in right now. Can I help you with something?”

“Oh shoot!” She spoke as if I had told her that her oxygen tank was missing. “Will he… um… will he be there… I mean… will he be there soon?” The voice became raspier with each passing word.

“No, he’ll be in this afternoon. Is there something I can help you with?” I responded, weary of what I was probably in for.

“Well, you see… this is Linda. And yesterday … um… Jason helped me with my computer.” She then went on to tell me how she had brought her computer in and had Jason look at it. “But he couldn’t find anything wrong with it.”

“Uh huh.”

“But, well, I, um, I brought it home, and, um, I, um hooked it back up, and, um, well, there’s nothing on the screen, um, I mean it’s all black. Is it possible that I did something wrong?” The raspy voice was really, really, really starting to annoy by this point.

*in my mind, I said “It is more than possible.”

*out loud, I said “It’s possible.”

She went on “Well, I’m looking at, um, the back of the computer, and um, I can see some cords.” Confusion enveloped her words.

“Uh huh. That is normal.”

“There’s a white one that comes from the monitor. Do I have it plugged in right? I just worry that it, um, might not be plugged in right.” She sounded as if she was going to have a panic attack on the spot.

“Where do you have it plugged in? Did you have to force it into one of the ports?”

“Well, it’s um, what does the port look like? It’s kind of really close to, um, two black cables. Does that sound right? What if I have it plugged in wrong?” The anxiety in her voice redoubled. The raspyness (that really needs to be a word) was becoming unbearable.

“If you have it plugged in wrong, it won’t work.” I replied. I then did my best to describe what the correct port looks like, and that there might be two of them. It was like teaching advanced neuroscience to an infant.

“Well, um, could the monitor be bad? It’s like thirteen years old.”

“Thirteen?”

“Yes, but its always worked fine before.”

“I see.”

“I have two, um, BSP’s plugged in right next to each other. There’s also a yellow cable. Um, could that maybe, um, have something to do with it?”

“…… …… …… Are the BSP’s rectangular on the end?”

“Yeah, I think so, what are they plugging in, um, to? I can’t seem to follow the wire. How can I tell where they are plugged in? And can this yellow, um, cord be doing something, um, bad?”

By this point I was looking for any razor blades within reach. I figured it would just be better to end things permanently. My wise physics professor’s advice kept running through my head. “Don’t cross the street, run all the way down the road.”

I could keep the dialogue going for another five pages, but I don’t want to risk any of you suffering irreparable brain damage. Suffice it to say that she didn’t remember anything I said for more than two seconds, which caused her to ask most of the above questions another four or five times. Eventually the call ended, with her claim that she would bring her computer and monitor into the shop for me to look at. After a few minutes I realized I was on the floor in the fetal position. The only thing that got me up off the floor was the knowledge that I am going to eat a Gyro at the Pita Pitt for lunch today.

Hurray!

Time and Things

2009-01-15T10:50:00.000-08:00

Time has no real meaning to me during any given college semester. Every day seems the same as the day preceding. Nothing ever changes. There is little to no variety in my life. I wake up reluctantly. I go to school unenthusiastically. I go to work begrudgingly. I go home and do homework exhausted. Not necessarily in that order. Then I repeat everything the next day. Sometimes friends find ways to steal the time I would otherwise spend doing homework, which is probably one of the most awesome blessings ever. Thanks to all of those time thieves. They keep me mostly sane.

Last night I was writing in my journal. I’ve become a relatively regular journal writer. It’s nice. I like it. However, sometimes my entries delve into an inner discussion of how boring life is that manifests itself nicely on the screen in story form (my journal is electronic in nature). Such was the case last night. As I wrote down these inner feelings, musings, odd interpretations, and random thoughts, I thought I heard the screen take voice and shout “MORON!!! Life is what you make it. Life is only as boring as you let it be. If you think your life is mundane, DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!”

I stared for a good minute at the screen, trying to decide if it actually yelled at me or if I need to be tested for schizophrenia. I decided that the screen really did yell at me, so I told it to shut up because screens don’t know anything.

It took me about three minutes to finally concede that my computer was right.

Even in the most boring and repetitive of tasks, one can find something in which to be interested. It’s all about perspective. Having the right perspective affects your attitude. And your attitude affects every aspect of your life. There is no way around it. The moral of this little blog entry is that you must always be aware of your attitude. Don’t get caught in a funk. A conscious effort to maintain a healthy perspective goes a long way to overall self fulfillment in life.

That said, I’m off to my Bio-Psych class, where we will very likely discuss different ideas of what consciousness actually is. Interesting stuff. More blogs to follow, hopefully today.

My Week

2008-11-23T12:32:00.000-08:00

On Monday I spent the better part of an hour on the phone with an old man trying to help him login to his online email account.

“Okay, now enter your username and password.”

“My what?”

“Your username and password.”

“My what?”

“Your username and password.”

“What’s that?”

On Tuesday I helped another old guy “fix his broken computer” by showing him how to disable Outline Dragging in solitaire.

“My computer don’t work.”

“What’s the problem exactly?”

“When I try to drag a card it disappears on me.”

“...........uhhhh........oh, I think I know…”

On Wednesday I tried to explain to a lady how computers can get viruses even if (or especially if) you just paid sixty dollars for the latest Norton anti-virus protection software. I don’t think she believed me. She didn’t want to believe. Perhaps I now know how Mulder felt. Annoying.

“So, how did this virus get on my computer anyway? I have that Norton protection. It cost me sixty bucks.”

“Norton’s detection software isn’t perfect. There really isn’t any way to stay 100% protected as long as you’re connected to the internet.”

“So, I paid Norton sixty bucks for nothing, and now I have to pay you eighty five??”

“Yes. Plus tax.”

On Thursday I had to spend nearly all day moving everything in one office to another office and visa versa. Such a pain.

On Friday my boss messed up an order on parts for a server we are building. I had to listen to him make every attempt imaginable at placing the blame on someone other than himself, then complain about how much this mistake was going to cost him.

On Saturday I slept in, had the day off work, lounged around, and watched Kung Fu Panda for the first time. Hilarious!

Ok. Now that you're up to speed with my week, allow me to switch from recalling the past to explaining the future.

Today. Sunday.

Because of this day, I will be able to forget every last stupid person I had to deal with during the week. Every textbook chapter I had to read. Every test I had to take. And all this for a very, very special and legitimate reason. Allow me now to explain why this Sunday is a bit more special than any other given Sunday.

Two words.

Pie Night.

At approximately six thirty tonight, me and my immediate and extended family will journey to the home of my grandparents to eat pie. Lots and lots of pie. Each family will bring an unhealthily beautiful number of pies with great variety to be shared. Tonight pumpkin, raspberry, butter pecan, apple, key lime, banana crème, chocolate, ice cream, and peach pies will accompany a plethora of delicious homemade cheesecakes to fill my grandmother’s kitchen to the brim and provide me with everything I need to gain ten pounds. There are only a handful of days in the year that I look forward to more than this one.

Last year I ate thirteen pieces. This year I’m shooting for seventeen. It is going to be a good evening.

Wish me luck.

Cake

2008-10-21T16:29:00.001-07:00

I’ll get to the cake in a minute. First…

I find myself in a less than desirable situation. I call it Night Class. The way I see it, I have two options. I can pay attention and try to learn something or I can blog and let you all into my mind. I’m pretty sure that trying to pay attention will only result in me sleeping, so welcome everyone to my mind.

Short Story: Dumb Man of the Day.

I answered the phone at work today (mistake); it was a secretary from one of the companies for which we do computer support. She explained that one of the companies’ VP’s had a home computer that was plagued with a "multitude of problems." I arranged to meet this person at his home just after lunch to make his computer happy again. When I met him at his house, he explained that the problem was simply that he couldn’t get the printer to work. So much for the multitude… I then listened to a five minute story about how several of his “computer savvy” neighbors had spent hours trying to fix the problem, to no avail. I then sat down at his computer and pulled up the list of installed printers. There was one. It matched the printer on the desk. In the printer status section was one phrase. Two perplexing, nearly impossible to decipher, impossibly big words stared at me from the glowing screen.

“printing paused.”

Two clicks of the mouse solved the problem. Honestly, I’d be willing to wager that my grandmother would be able to figure this one out! I want to meet his neighbors that spent hours trying to fix this. Maybe I don’t. Either way, I got the satisfaction of leaving him a hefty invoice for a two second job.

Stupid Moment: Two of the Dumbest Questions I've Ever Been Asked (by my least favorite blind customer (last friday))

In talking about audio extension cables, I was asked, word for word, no kidding.

“Now, is the ten foot cable longer than the six foot?”

Later in that thirty minute conversation from hell, the topic changed to external hard drives. In talking about hard drive space, he asked.

“So, I have a 250GB hard drive with my programs on it and a 160GB hard drive with my music and movies. Is a 750GB external drive going to be enough to fit everything from both drives?”

And finally, the Cake.

To truly understand, you must play and beat Portal by Valve. I have a new phrase by which to live my life. It goes.

“There’s no sense crying over every mistake, you just keep on trying ‘til you run out of cake.”

the link

Nostril Abomination

2008-09-19T09:10:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I had the inopportunity to assist a man at work who I can only describe as the worst smelling human being in the entire world. I lived in São Paulo for two years; I thought I knew what bad smells were. I’ve been around some disgusting people, but this man in his old-man-one-piece-jumpsuit-of-nastiness took the entire rotten cake all for himself. The moment he walked through the door of the shop, everyone inside was aware of his nauseating presence. I thought I saw the very paint on the walls shrivel together and squirm in a desperate attempt to find clean oxygen. Not a full second later, my mind, being fairly analytical, immediately began thinking of possible causes for the stench. Perhaps he hadn’t showered for a few months. Perhaps he hadn’t washed his jumpsuit (or changed it for that matter) for at least that long. Perhaps he had tripped over a crate of stink bombs. Perhaps he lived with his dog…in a dog house…with stink bombs…or… Then, mid-thought, my increasingly disgusting train of thought was cut short when I realized that the thing was standing less than two feet from me. I couldn’t bring myself to speak first. There was a moment of silence, where his eyes met mine like a ruined River Folk man would eye another man who just might be able to tell him where to find his “precious”. He then, undaunted by my silent expression, mild gagging and blood shot eyes and probably motivated by the severe hope for human interaction, started talking, and as a consequence of opening his mouth, began to poison me. Immediately, as if by some Geek Hallucinatory Self-Preservation Mechanism (GHSPM), I saw a green oxygen status bar appear directly over my head and slightly to the right, identical to the one in MGS that lets you know when Snake has been under water for too long. Upon inspection, I realized that the bar was depleting at an alarming rate. I knew that my time in this man’s presence would have to be limited, since I really didn’t want to depart this life breathing such foul air. So, when the green bar had nearly reached its end, I excused myself to the back of the shop, and finding that even the back stank of the vile matter, opened the back door and welcomed in many a fresh breath before returning to my predicament up front.

His visit seemed to last an eternity.

Unfortunately for me (and a handful of others whose nostrils were violated along with mine), this visit would not be his last. In fact, he would be back at least once a day for the four or five days that we were working on his project, completely unaware of his effect on others.

If he ever does come back, I am going to kindly tell him that we no longer want his business and invite him to not return until his odor has improved. Honestly, someone really needs to do the man a favor and throw him in a river. Bonus points if there are rapids. I don’t understand how somebody can be that unaware of their physical condition. Perhaps the fates have become bored with simply sending me stupid people… Or maybe this is my punishment for letting a month slip by without blogging.

My Qualm

2008-08-02T11:35:00.000-07:00

Let me tell you a story. Last year around Christmas time, I began to hear a lot of talk amongst the females in my life, family and friends, about a series of books that told a vampire love story. I, being one who loves to read good books, found myself torn. On one side, I love vampires. Always have, always will. On the other side, the females in my life absolutely loved them. This is normally a bad sign, since up to that point, the only other books that were of a mutual liking were the Harry Potter books. Normally, said females try to get me to read mormon fiction and books about lost diamonds and stuff. Yuck. I’m a predominately Fantasy and Sci-Fi kinda guy. Then Christmas came around and my sister got the first book in the series called Twilight. Since I like to read a book before I decide I dislike it, I asked her if I could read it. It took me about two days and I loved it! After the first book, I went to the store and got the next two installments. About a week later, I was uber sad because the fourth book wouldn’t be out until the fall and I was left with many an unanswered question.

Now, for my qualm. Judging a book without reading it isn’t fair to the book, the author, or the people that enjoy it. Honestly, if you read a book and dislike it, that’s one thing. It has happened to me a lot in my life (i.e 97% of the books they made me read in school)! However, basing an opinion about something in ignorance is nigh unto the best thing you can do to make yourself look like a complete idiot! Over the past eight months I have heard a plethera of insults directed at the series by ignorant people, especially males. “It’s a chick series, what kind of guy would read it?” “It’s really just a stupid girls book.” “I would never, ever read them.” “Dude, I can’t believe you read those chick books.” “Do you want to marry a vampire now?” There are more, but you get the picture. Now, all of the above quotes were made by different males that I know. And there is one thing that they ALL have in common.

NONE OF THEM HAVE READ ANY PART OR PORTION OF THE BOOKS!

That’s right, not a single word. Now, I can understand if you don’t want to read them. There are a million legit reasons. You don’t like to read. You don’t like books written in first person. You don’t have time. You have a million other books you’re trying to read, etc… But for some reason, they see it fit to attack the books rather than simply pass. Maybe they think their penis will fall off if they read them. Perhaps they can’t bear the thought of anything infringing on the manly man image they hold onto for security in their minds. Honestly, I have no idea what the real reason is.

Really, the books are very well done. I normally dislike books written in first person, but these are amongst the very few exceptions. The story is intriguing and well plotted. The character development is fun and interesting. Even the suspense is superbly done. Stephenie Meyer really is a gifted author.

So please, stupid males, stop judging the books in ignorance. If you wish to judge and attack after you’ve read them, be my guest. But until you read them, stfu and go eat a rare steak.

Doctor Horrible

2008-07-30T10:48:00.000-07:00

Joss Whedon is my Master. Visit the link, if you haven't already, thank me later.

http://www.hulu.com/watch/28343/dr-horribles-sing-along-blog

The Fates Conspire

2008-07-29T16:45:00.000-07:00

“In other news: Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos were bored to tears forty eight hours ago when they decided to meddle in the life of Sephian, once again. According to our sources, the fates chose Sephian randomly, although verifiable evidence to support that theory is thus far unavailable. But the reason for his choosing is not nearly as important as the effect of the meddling. Footage has also been released to this news station which reveals the Fates fatefully laughing, even to tears, in the privacy of their Los Angeles penthouse. More details at eleven.”

Yes, it is true. The Fates conspired against me once again for their own pitiful pleasure. Can’t say I blame them. If you look down to my previous blog entry entitled 2big2move, you will read a now incorrect statement. It says, “I have never met the very large lady in the following story.” Oh how I wish I could still say that!

As it happened, 2big2move found more problems with her computer once she had it back. She called me and asked what needed to be done to fix ALL of her newfound problems. I told her that if we formatted the hard drive and re-installed Winblows, things would be as good as new. Then she went and made the unfortunate request that once I was finished with the machine, I come out to her house and set everything up and make sure it works. So, I did. Now, I have been on some unpleasant service calls in my day, but usually they are unpleasant because things don’t go smoothly. This visit, however, was just wrong! In fact, it was wrong on five different levels that I have counted so far. Allow me to elaborate.

First, it was wrong on the physical level. To begin, 2big2move really is 2big2move. In all, I saw her take maybe five steps, and I thought she might have a heart attack. Next, the structure of the house looked like it was designed by an eleven year old Sephian, which is great, if you’re building a tree house. Also, if spending one day in the polluted air of Sao Paulo can be compared to smoking a pack of cigarettes (and I’ve heard that comparison made), then spending an hour in 2big2move’s house would be like smoking one cigarette.

Second, it was wrong on the emotional level. There was nothing happy about that place. The walls were painted with depressing colors that were faded and peeling. Stains decorated all of the walls, floors and appliances. 2big2move also never smiled. Neither did her son, who is large, but can still move. I figure the house had a -20 happy curse.

Third, it was wrong on the linguistic level. While I worked on the computer, 2big2move and her son watched an episode of Mash. At some point during the scene, Clinger was told to stop fraternizing with Hawkeye. Shortly after, 2big2move’s son asked what it meant to fraternize. Her response, after about fifteen seconds of hard thought, was “um, it means like to pull pranks on people.” Wrong. Sorry.

Fourth, it was wrong on the spiritual level. Let’s just say the Holy Ghost waited for me at the door.

Fifth, it was wrong on the olfactoric level. The dictionary doesn’t think that “olfactoric” is a word. I disagree. It should be, at any rate. Anyway, the place stunk nearly as bad as her computer. Breathing was disagreeable. To know how bad her computer stunk, and make a comparison, either read my last blog or visit a Favela in Sao Paulo.

2big2move

2008-07-22T13:21:00.000-07:00

I have never met the very large lady in the following story. Thank George Lucas!

It all began when a disgustingly dressed, putrid smoke smelling, bearded beast of a man brought an equally disgusting computer into the shop for repair. The beast explained in his primitive form of communication that the computer belonged to his wife, who was physically unable to leave the house. I didn’t inquire further. (I would discover soon after that a fellow technician had actually been to the lady’s house for a service call and would describe her as nothing less than GINORMOUS!) I instead asked what was wrong with the computer. He replied with a grunt and a shrug of the shoulders and handed me a piece of paper. I then understood that the immobile lady had written me a huge laundry list of things that were wrong with the machine. She also had taken the time to write that she needed the computer back ASAP. The beast then left, to my great nasal relief, and I took the machine to the back.

Now, if you’ve never smelt the inside of a smoker’s computer, consider yourself blessed. It is quite possibly the worst smell on the planet. It rivals the smell of an entire communities’ week old garbage piled high in the favella’s of Sao Paulo. The computer the beast left was as bad as they come.

After cleaning approximately five metric tons of yellow mutant dust from the inside of the case and a few intense hours of fixing the listed problems one by one, I believed the repairs were complete. Since this lady had been calling me for updates about her computer every hour, I was excited to call her and tell her it was done. Surely that would be the last time I would have to talk to her, she being as impossibly annoying and impatient as she is apparently large.

Not five seconds after hanging up the phone, she called back and proved to me that she is not only impossibly annoying and impatient, but stupid as well.

She started, “Oh, I remembered something I need to you test out for me. It’s really important that this works right.”

I responded with a depressed “Sure, no problem. What is it?”

She continued, “I need you to go to www.[someadultchatsite].com and make sure it lets me in. It was acting all weird before and I need to get back in.”

It was all I could do to refrain from laughing out loud! Apparently she is too large to provide for her desires in the real world, so she takes her biznass to the virtual one. I told her I would test the chat room and call her back. I went back to her machine, disabled graphics in the web browser, and logged in to the chat room. It worked, and I was surprised to see that of the dozens of people logged in to the chat, no one seemed interested in talking about The Dark Knight with me. Sad. I called her back, told her the good news, and beast man should be back any time now to take it back.

The moral of the story is triple-fold. First, don’t allow yourself to become “2big2move.” Second, don’t smoke next to your computer. And third, never, ever, ever, ever ask someone else to make sure that your adult websites are working properly. I mean, c’mon, don’t people realize that some people blog about such things?

Place Holder

2008-07-08T10:20:00.000-07:00

I've been trying to finish some entries recently, but I've been super busy and can't seem to get them done. Yesterday, while I was working on one of those blog entries at work, an exxxxtremely large woman came into the shop. It was disgusting and sad all rolled up into one giant emotion for me. Just a few hours after that, I stumbled upon this video from a very reputable news source. Take a look.

New Wearable Feedbags Let Americans Eat More, Move Less

click connect

2008-06-21T14:16:00.000-07:00

For some unbearably strange and incomprehensible reason, I have been having the hardest time being critical of stupid people as of late. Perhaps it’s the self evaluation that I’ve been experiencing since I started writing in my journal again. Or maybe it’s because I recently took up meditation (I bought Meditation for Dummies and everything!). Maybe it’s the heat. Whatever the reason, it has been difficult adapting. But I’m mostly positive that it’s for the best. It is, in fact, for that very same reason that my new posts have been, well, non-existent. I’ve been working on a number of blogs that are of a more inspirational nature, but they never seem to get finished. I have a shirt that says “I never finish anyth” on the front. I think it’s starting to read true.

This is where I found myself in a bit of a dilemma. You see, I believe that criticism can be a good thing. It keeps me aware of things I need to avoid doing in my own life. It also keeps me alert of everything that goes on around me and helps me notice things that I’d otherwise miss. I like to be alert and aware, unless of course I’m sleeping. I also make exceptions for the extremely-rare-and-oh-so-ever-looked-forward-to lazy days. Now I’m drifting. Getting back on topic, I have been trying to find the balance between being critical and being nice. Rather, not terribly mean. Sometimes “nice” just doesn’t work and isn’t deserved. Perhaps the balance lies in learning from the criticisms I give about stupid people (via blogging, never to them directly. Is that bad?), being able to take criticism, and trying super hard not to be terribly mean.

So, here’s something that I experienced recently that has the potential to ooze sarcasm and criticism like no ones biznass, but won’t, I hope.

It was a rather hot spring day not two weeks ago that I was sitting in my comfy office chair reading an XKCD comic strip while thinking of a way to repair a client’s Winblows corruption problem when the phone rang. I answered in normal fashion only to hear a faint woman’s voice on the other line. I increased the phone volume and then the voice became a normal woman’s voice. She explained that about six months ago she and her husband had purchased a computer from us and had us set up a wireless network in their home. I remembered the happy couple, and asked if everything was working correctly. She told me that they hadn’t been able to get on to their wireless internet connection for the last few weeks. I attempted to walk her through a few things over the phone, but it became apparent in a matter of seconds that guiding this lady through any procedures was going to be next to impossible (she actually said so, which honestly doesn’t happen as often as it should). She went on to talk about her amazingly brilliant computer genius neighbor that had even come over to the house to try and fix the problem. “He checked all of the configuration settings and everything, but it still won’t work. He thinks it’s the wireless modem, router thingy with the antenna that is bad.” She then asked if I would come out to her house and replace the wireless modem, router thingy. She was convinced that something was broken. She had no qualm with the price, so we scheduled a time.

Later that day, I arrived at her house. She greeted me at the door and showed me to the computer located next to the dining room table. I sat down and looked at the screen. The wireless connection was definitely disconnected. To resolve the issue, I double clicked on the TRENDnet Wireless Connection Manager icon and clicked again, this time on “connect.” Five seconds later I was browsing the web. The lady had a confused look on her face that shouted “but my amazingly brilliant computer genius neighbor tried everything!” Indeed it appears that brilliant computer genius is no match for the confusing powers of Trendnet’s wireless connection manager and its accompanying connect button. I asked if there was anything else I could do since I was already there and she was paying for one hour either way, but she declined, so I left, which was nice because I needed to get my car washed.

Perhaps had this lady not been sooooo convinced that her neighbor really was a computer genius she would have noticed the painfully obvious solution to her problem. Then again, maybe not. She might have, however, been more open to letting me help her over the phone. Sure it takes a few minutes, but it doesn’t cost anything. The lesson I take from this is hopefully the same one she’ll take and one Muad’dib states on his blog. “Question your assumptions.” Allow for the possibility that you could be wrong and look for alternatives. Doing so will give you a whole new world of options.

That wasn’t painful, for me, at least.

"You expect me to read the things I sign?"

2008-05-27T15:24:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, a lady brought her computer into the shop.

“It’s broke and I don’t even like computers,” began the lady’s account of her quandary. “It doesn’t do anything anymore. I bumped it lightly while I was vacuuming yesterday and it fell over and the power cord came out, and ever since it just won’t turn back on,” she continued in a deep voice and bad breath. “It actually belongs to my sister. She let me borrow it, you know, for the kids to use for school. She say’s its new and that it can’t be broken, so I need you to figure out what’s wrong with it.” *I attempted to take a step back to evade the reach of her breath, but she countered with a step of her own. “She even owns her own business and her technician guy said he didn’t think it could be broken either.”

My “Lame-Story” alarms were beginning to sound a medium level warning.

“OK, we’ll run some diagnostics and let you know what we discover.” I replied, reluctantly having to open my mouth.

“Thanks. I really don’t even like computers. I use one for work, because I have to, but I honestly hate the things. I never want to own one of my own. I just wish that my kids didn’t need one for school.”

Then she left and we were happy.

Later that day, the diagnostics were done and the results were clear. Her motherboard was dead. She had completely fried it. When we called her with the news, she was less than believing.

“That’s a new motherboard. There’s no way it can be bad. I’m going to pick it up and let my sisters technician guy look at it.” She replied. She was intent on remaining ignorant.

“That’s fine. You'll just need to pay a small evaluation charge and we’ll have your computer here waiting for you.”

"Alright."

..
..
..

5 months later…

..
..
..

A strangely familiar lady walked through the door. When she spoke, the smell of her breath was instantly recognizable.

“I’m here to pick up my computer. It’s been here for a while now. I just haven’t gotten around to picking it up.”

So I started looking for her computer. Then, after a while of searching, discovered from our records that we had junked her computer a few weeks ago, after trying to call and tell her that she needed to pick up her computer soon. It’s not uncommon for someone to never return to retrieve a machine we diagnosed as dead. They like to skip out on the evaluation fee and leave us with a useless machine that takes up space. So, after four months or so if we still cannot get in contact with them, we get rid of their machines.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, this is bad, this is bad, this is bad, this is bad.” It became apparent rather quickly that she was actually quite fond of the computer that she had abandoned for five months. “Why would you guys throw away someone’s computer? Why didn’t anyone tell me? What am I supposed to do now?” I told her that we did indeed try to call her and that anything left in the shop for over sixty days technically may become property of the shop and that I didn’t know what she was supposed to do now. “Well, it doesn’t say that you’ll throw it away anywhere!” She pointed out determinedly. I then showed her the work order she signed and the line that states that equipment left here over sixty days may become our property. She then decided that tears and mumbling were in order, so I can’t really tell you what she said next, because I have only theories. In the end, she reassured me that she was very disappointed and that she would be calling the owner. I felt very reassured, at least.

Perhaps I should stop smiling when these things happen. Anyway, she hasn’t called back yet. I think it might take her a few months to get around to it.

Hopefully this lady took away a few life lessons that will help her out in the future. First, don’t hit your computer with a vacuum. They don’t like that. Second, read the small print when you sign something. It could be useful information. Third, don’t leave something you need in a repair shop for five months and expect it to still be there when you get around to picking it up. Honestly, even if we hadn’t tried to call her, what was she expecting? And finally, if someone is constantly taking steps away from you when you talk, it’s probably because you have bad breath. Try the new Listerine 12 hour stuff. It’s great.

Caution: Bare Fists

2008-05-23T15:33:00.000-07:00

There he goes, striking fear into the hearts of potential do-badders everywhere.

Instead of Jumping in front of a Train

2008-05-14T09:27:00.000-07:00

May Bruce Lee come down and one-inch punch me until I die if the Mullet isn’t the best way to tell the world in a tremendously boisterous and obnoxious way that you are a trashy human being. What human defect is it that leads some people to actually CHOOSE to have one? Is it an imbalance in chemical levels inside the brain? Perhaps it’s the effect of too much cheap beer and an over indulgence in eighties pornography. We many never know the cause, but we sure as helllll know the effect. That’s right. Complete, absolute stupidity! By Thor’s Hammer I swear I have never met an intelligent human being that sported a Mullet. It’s like trying to find a dog that actually talks, or a redneck that knows how to use a computer.

Unfortunately for me, these last few weeks have been ffffiiillllllleddd to the brim with Mullets! It has come to the point where I must either scorn these morons on my blog, or jump in front of a train.

The first experience was an observational one for the most part. It was in the parking lot of a plumbing supply store where I had been called out on a service call for work. Being drawn to stupid people like strong magnets, before I could get out of my car, my head turned and I found myself looking at an old, rusted Ford Taurus. I looked closer and saw that there was a man leaning against the side of the car that had two young children secured in baby seats in the back. Then I saw his Mullet. Long down past his shoulders and worn with more pride than a dozen NBA superstars could ever dream of having. “I wonder what stupid thing he’s going to do,” I thought. Not one minute after that thought, he looked down at the children inside, both of which were eating some sort of messy treat. Half a second later, he lifted and rolled his head much like a wild animal. Then he strutted to the other side of the car, opened the door and started yelling at the children because they had smeared the messy treat all over the inside of the window. “Why did you…. Why in the… What gives…. What in the hell gives you the ... right to get my windows dirty?” “Why did you think it would be okay to do that?” At that point, I had to do something, so I got out of my car and shut the door loudly. This startled the man, who turned around to look at me. We made eye contact, and then he stopped yelling and went back to the other side of the car and resumed leaning.

The whole experience oozed stupidity. First of all, what kind of a moron gives a small child a messy treat inside of a car then gets mad when that treat ends up all over the windows? Second, what kind of a moron cares whether or not their P.O.S Taurus gets dirty? Third, what kind of feces consuming lowlife has such a low level of self-esteem that they must prove to themselves that they are indeed stronger than a little child? Yes, you in the back! That’s right! A STUPID moron! However, an even better answer would have been “A STUPID MORON WITH A MULLET!”

Then there were the four mullets I saw walking down Washington Blvd on my way to work a few days ago. One walked in a daze, one walked in unusually long strides, one didn’t walk at all, and one walked on all fours (until he found something on the ground and picked it up…). I don’t know why they bothered me the way they did. Perhaps each mullet was equipped with an Intelligence -7 spell whose diameter expanded into the lane I was in, or maybe it was my inner self not agreeing that mullet-sporters should be allowed to roam free. Who knows…

Then as if I hadn’t been plagued with enough mullets, we recently had an irate Polar-Bearish man with a curly white mullet in the shop. This man truly re-defined my understanding of how ignorant and stupid a human can be. Allow me to explain. Mr. S (S for stupid) came into the shop complaining that the sound on his laptop had never worked since he bought it from Toshiba. My co-worker told him we would diagnose the problem and attempt a fix. That’s exactly what we did. We re-installed his drivers, re-installed XP on another hard drive, installed many patches and tried every trick we could think of. In the end, the sound still didn’t work. At that point, deductive reasoning told us that something was wrong with the sound card or his motherboard. When he came back, my co-worker gave him the news. He blew up! “What do ya mean it doesn’t work?” “Yer telling me I don’t have any sound at all!?” Let us remember that his sound didn’t work when he brought it in. He then started making false claims. “It worked sometimes when I brought it in. I could hook up mah speakers and it would work just fine.” “[G] you guys suck! You [F]ing broke it! I never shoulda brought it here to begin with.” He yelled and screamed at us for about five minutes before he broke out into a nervous pace around the shop. He threatened to call the cops, take out a full page add in the paper about us, and many other things that I didn’t understand (he started to froth and babble a bit). I tried to explain to him what we did and the reasons that the sound still didn’t work, but he wouldn’t listen to anything I said. After about twenty minutes of hopelessly trying to help him understand, I gave up. He told me that he wanted it fixed “NOW.” I didn’t say a thing. Then he stormed out of the shop much the same way I imagine a Polar Bear would. Well, to our luck, we ended up solving the sound problem. We had to use a “Vista only” patch over the Windows XP sound drivers to get it to work. What are the odds? He picked it up the next day and we haven’t seen him since. Thank George Lucas!

It was like the mullet was blocking all intelligent thought coming in and out of his head! He refused to listen to reason! He was incapable of using deductive reasoning. He didn’t understand a single thing I told him. He was insulting, ignorant, irate, and idiotic! The stupidity was too much to bear!

As a result of that last experience, I had to treat my wounds with the La Famosa combo plate and fried ice cream at El Matador. There must be a solution to the mullet problem in the world. What is it going to take? Perhaps we can come to some arrangement with the Goa’uld. They can take all the humans with mullets to use as hosts and in exchange we get their cool shield technology.

Fishing in Sephian's Brain

2008-04-23T19:12:00.000-07:00

The following thoughts were made possible by today's longer than normal commute.

Things that must go...

Wild animal statues placed in newly built “luxury home” communities in Huntsville.

On that note, my thanks to the person or persons that painted the buffalo statue green! Please, make contact with me and I’ll see that you are rewarded for your good deed. Also, I would like to request Orange, Blue, and Yellow respectively for the Eagle, Elk, and Mountain Goat.

People who ignore warnings and complain when they get burned.

Now we go to a crazy Ford dealership in Spanish Fork. The owner or manager of the dealership called the shop a few days ago to let us know they were having computer problems. In fact, their computer problems were sooooooo beyond their ability to fix that the nice owner/manager lady asked to have someone sent down to fix them onsite. The owner of the shop where I work carefully explained that we charge $95 per hour (as Dumbdumb well knows), and that the client pays normal rates for travel one way. After better learning the nature of the problems in question, he advised that they bring the computers into the shop, because the repairs could take many billable hours. He also explained that many of the problems could require major hardware replacements. But, after many minutes to carefully warning the owner/manager of the potentially high costs involved, she told us that she wanted someone to come down. Enter Matt, who is drawn to dumb people like a magnet. So, this morning at about 10:00am, I jump in my girly Civic and make the drive down to Spanish Fork. Once there, I immediately begin diagnosing the problems, then fixing them. Just about when I was finished, this wonderfully strange (and funny looking) owner/manager approached me and asked what all of this was going to cost her. I told her that I hadn’t yet made up a total, but would know soon. She then made a very strange comment (at least I thought it was weird, given the prior discussion she had with my boss). “I hope this doesn’t cost very much. Do you think it’ll be more than three hundred bucks?” Now, she must have known that it takes over an hour to get to Spanish Fork from Riverdale. She must have also been aware that I had been slaving away for three hours. Now, unless she is less intelligent than my 7 year old cousin, she should know that 4 X 95 is indeed more than three hundred. That’s not even mentioning all of the hardware she had me replace. Maybe she thought I was in the giving-stuff-away-for-free mood? Anyway, once I finished up I tallied the costs and the total bill came to just under eight hundred dollars. Nearly half of which came from labor costs. So, with a big smile on my face I went to tell her the news. The blood seemed to leave her face as my smile got bigger upon giving her the total. Honestly, was she not paying attention at all when my boss told her how much this could potentially cost her?

The Great Gatsby

Normally, I only want to poke my eyes out when I have to watch Mormon flicks or if I get toxic chemicals in them. However, thanks to my Intro to Fiction class, I have recalled from memory a lesson that I learned in English Honors in 11th grade. I want to poke my eyes out when I read The Great Gatsby! Honestly, a book about stupid people being stupid?

The “Diversity” credit at Weber State!

C’mon, I’ve taken every Portuguese class available! I passed with an A in Intro to Theatre. I even took English 2010 from a crazy Greek lady. Now you force me to take Intro to Fiction so that I can become more diverse?!? You do realize that I want to poke my eyes out, right?

The executive decision makers that decided to cancel Firefly

No explanation needed.

Some Random Thoughts...

“I wonder if her eyelids are always half shut like that.”

“Who in their right mind would want to live in Spanish Fork?”

“I really shouldn’t laugh inside every time the fat parts manager gets up from his chair. He might notice one of these times.”

And, Even One Good Idea!

If I get one parking ticket at WSU early fall semester, and pay it, I’ll have in my possession the ability to fool the parking-lot demons! What are the odds that a parking-lot demon will put a ticket on a car that already has one? That’s right, recycling tickets! Wonder if it will work.

I’ll let you all know what happens.

There you go Kenneth. One down, one to go.

Makes me laugh...

2008-04-16T18:25:00.000-07:00

Although I honest to goodness have the intentions to blog on a variety of topics, I have the feeling that this blog will serve mainly for my ranting and raving and discussing the things that dumb people do. That being said, here is my Top 5 list of things dumb people have said to me over the phone at work.

Oh, and in case you didn’t know, I’m a computer technician.

- - “I’m dumb, can you help me?”

- - “I’m 65, retired, and drive a 1975 Chevy. Now, I don’t know what you drive, and frankly, it’s none of my business, but I can guarantee you that I can fix my truck cheaper than you can fix yours. Now, I tell you this because I want you to know what kind of computer I need.”

- - “Oh, so I need to plug it into the wall outlet too?”

- - “I dun tol’ my man he shouldn’ be lookin at them naked pictures.”

- - “Does the warranty cover spillin mah beer on the unit?”

I’m honestly sometimes glad that I get to talk to some of these people. Even though it is oftentimes extremely trying on my patience, it does serve as a source of entertainment that can last anywhere from a few seconds to forever. I have to do something to stay sane, right?

Increase your Geek lvl

2008-04-03T14:18:00.001-07:00

I recently attended Video Games Live at Abravanel Hall in SLC, which was absolutely amazing and comes with my highest recommendation. The opening movie of the performance made my day, week, and will probably even go on to make my month. Enjoy.

Cheddar Cheese and Evil Video Games...

2008-03-27T15:39:00.000-07:00

I remember once in elementary school we were asked to do a research project. We were to team up and choose a topic to research on our own. I was excited. My partner in crime and I immediately teamed up and started brainstorming possible research ideas. After many hours of tossing ideas back and forth, unwillingly throwing out all of the illegal ones, we were certain that we had stumbled across the perfect idea. The next day in class we were required to stand in pairs and announce to the class what our research was going to be. We proudly announced that we would be researching the effects of time and outdoor summer conditions on mild cheddar cheese. After the many weird looks from classmates and the rest of the school day, my friend and I immediately went to my house to begin the research. Ten minutes later, we had a significant chunk of mild cheddar cheese quarantined behind orange tape on my back porch. Five minutes after that, we were immersed in an intense game of Metroid on the NES.

*mental thought: Weird how so many of my childhood memories are relevant today… *end mental thought

The days passed and our chunk of cheese did exactly what we had predicted: it got disgusting. We recorded the changes that had occurred and later presented our findings to the class and urged them to keep their cheese in the refrigerator.

We were in the fifth grade…I think.

Now, what are the odds that a pair of fifth grade researchers has a better research method than a “professional?” Apparently the odds are worth betting on if the “professional” is Cooper Lawrence.

Watch and observe:

Did it ever occur to ANY of them that they should perhaps play the game and see the truth for themselves? Oohh... I have an idea! Lets do some research to see if anything that we're going to say is true! Whaddya say?

C'mon, I knew the importance of research as a fifth grader!

The worst part is that they were mixing truths with lies. The truth is that sexual media viewed by young male humans (or anyone, for that matter) has negative effects. Duh. It desensitizes the viewers and can lead down many a wrong and destructive path. The truth is that there probably are a lot of young male humans out there that are doing their darndest to make sure they get to see the scene in question. The lie is that Mass Effect shows graphic pornography. Sure the scene is inappropriate, but is it pornography? What about the rest of the game? There is a good chance you'll never see that scene anyway. The lie is that if you play Mass Effect (or any video game for that matter) you won’t be able to discern reality from imaginary.

Sure, I play video games and on occasion have conversations with inanimate objects, but c’mon… who doesn’t?

The truth omitted is that if a young human male wants to see pornography, he isn’t going to go through the hassle of playing hours and hours of a video game just to get it. Let’s be serious, the internet is far more accessible and easy.

I’m not here to say whether or not Mass Effect is an appropriate game. Each responsible adult must make that decision for his or her own self and for their children when applicable. But I am here to say that if you are going to insult something, make sure the insult is valid.

“The board that reviewed this game needs to have their heads examined!” What an unfair thing to say!

“What I don’t understand is why didn’t this game get an Adults Only rating...?” How can you say that in ignorance?

I wonder what these people would think about Xenogears? Haven’t they ever heard of Laura Croft? Do they know what a James Bond movie is? At least they don’t have anything against assassins, right? Lets not tell them about God of War.

Luckily for my vengeful side, Cooper Lawrence has indeed suffered the consequences of speaking so forcefully in ignorance. Her new book, The Cult of Perfection, has received hundreds of bad reviews on amazon.com, mostly from people upset about the fact that she doesn’t research anything she says. She has since issued an apology on her website, saying that she was wrong in making false accusations. But one is forced to question motive and sincerity when money from book sales is involved in an apology.

FOX News still hasn't (as far as I can tell) apologized to EA for the bad publicity. An apology that EA has demanded.

I leave you with the ironic words of EvilMonkey2004, who’s review of Lawrence's new book says it best.

“Mass Effect has turned me into a sex crazed zombie. I just wish I had never played with that damnable devil-machine. I can't sleep or eat anymore... I'm up all night, craving digital sideboob. This book features no sideboob.”

Dumbdumb

2008-03-21T11:35:00.000-07:00

There comes a time in every computer technician’s life when he or she must deal with someone (or even something) that truly redefines his or her definition of stupidity. This is how it happened to me.

For anonymity’s sake, the less than adequately human/intelligent person in the following story will be called Dumbdumb.

It started much unlike any other day. I woke up a half hour early to exercise, and actually exercised. The drive to school was uneventful and pleasant. The sun was just barely rising in the east when I walked out of class. I think birds were singing. During class the professor even pushed back the due date of a large assignment. Afterwards, as I walked to my car I had the feeling that the day would be a good one. Driving from WSU campus to Riverdale, I was only stopped by two traffic lights! Unheard of! Now surely this day would be great! The signs were unmistakable. Then, it happened. Like the recurring dream I have of Captain Mal actually getting together with Inara, then waking up in a cold sweat with the sudden realization that I will never know if it was to be. The phone rang and I answered.

“This is Matt, may I help you?”

“This is Dumbdumb. IT DOESN’T WORK!!!!” *Growling sounds…

“I’m sorry, what doesn’t work?”

“The piece of [feces] you just built me. It’s broke.” *More growling sounds…

“Ok, how exactly is it broke? Could you be more specific?”

“It don’t, it just, I don’t, I… just…” *Growling…followed by a bat screech “GET THE HELL OVER HERE AND FIX IT.”

Even using my level 42 soothing skills, I was utterly ineffective in calming Dumbdumb. Between animal growls, he managed to tell me that he tried to turn it on in the morning, but nothing happened. It is now important that you know that Dumbdumb actually owns and operates his own business out of his home, and this is the computer that he uses the most. From what I could decipher from the progressively worsening primitive Growl, he and what I can only assume is his “tech savy” webmaster couldn’t solve the problem, after having tried for many hours.

“Dumbdumb, can I try and walk you through a few things over the phone?”

“NO!!! I’m not there. Nobody’s home, JUST GO FIX IT. Doors open.” *Gro…click

I decided that it would be better to go sooner rather than later to fix his problem, so I jumped in my car and made the drive to a part of town that I now despise and avoid at all costs. I found that the door was indeed open so I let myself in. Upon entering, I instinctively reached for my gasmask, being overwhelmed by the nearly visible smell of putrid stupidity and sweat. I knew that I would have to be quick, in order to avoid the dangers of remaining in a stupid environment. I really should have brought a full body suit. Fully aware that time was of the essence, I quickly found the computer room. There in the corner at the far end of the already small and seemingly shrinking room, sat his computer. I could hear the fans spinning, see the green power indicator LED on the case, see the green num lock LED on his keyboard lit up and even the red glow coming from under his optical mouse. In less than two seconds, before I had taken a full step into the room I knew what his problem was.

At that moment, my definition of stupidity was redefined. Stupidity = Dumbdumb

I walked to his computer and turned on his monitor and left him a bill for a hundred bucks.

I guess that aside from having to communicate and deal with Dumbdumb, my day was indeed a good one. I learned something important about being a pleasant human being. Nobody likes dealing with rude people, let alone rude, obnoxious, flaming mad and ignorant all together (even worse if your house stinks). Thank you, Dumbdumb, for your example of what not to be like.