Dear Comcast

Dear Comcast,

I hate you. I hate you so very, very much. This is no ordinary hate. I confess I say that I hate a lot of things. In comparison to what I feel right now, those have to be downgraded to "mild dislike". To be fair, I hate all cable monopolies. But Comcast, I hate you most of all. Why? Because you're the monopoly I have to deal with. Here's why I hate you...

My wife and I bought ourselves an HD television for Christmas. We don't watch TV all that much, but we figured that when we do watch it'd be nice to watch it on something bigger and sharper than our old TV. I hooked it up, and much to my surprise we started to get new channels! Wow! My wows soon turned to curses after a couple weeks pass, and I learned that you are now taking away digital channels from my cable package. Bastards. I can now see one out of four major networks in HD. (PBS doesn't count, though I get two of those in HD. Whoop-dee-shit.)

"Just upgrade!" you say. You know, if you gave me the option to upgrade so that I could see the networks I might just consider it. Or if you gave me the option to have a cable package that has channels I may actually watch, and not 100 channels of crap. But you don't give me that option. The upgrade you so gleefully want me to buy is EIGHT TIMES what I'm paying now. I'm not kidding, and I don't suck at math. EIGHT. TIMES. "Fuck you!" is far, far too short of a phrase to completely describe how I feel. Even if I stretch out every single letter until the veins stick out on my forehead.

So, I used part of our Christmas present to buy an indoor antenna. I'm currently trying to find the best place to put it where it will get the most channels. I'd *like* to put it deep in the heart of Texas of the CEO of Comcast or whoever decided to take channels away from their customers. I don't think I'd be alone in that regard. Hell, I'll buy two of them and give the same treatment to the person who thought that half of the channels we get should be in Spanish. But that's a whole other rant right there.

In conclusion, I'd like to say once again: Comcast, I hate you.

Don't Ask If You Don't Want To Know

I just got off the phone. (Those of you who know me, and you all do, know where this is going.) We apparently have a new insurance guy. I've never met the man, but he's called a few times before and left messages. The only reason I answered the phone is because we're expecting a call. Here's the Reader's Digest version of how the call played out:

Me: Hello
Annoying Guy (AG): Hi, Wontar? This is Annoying Guy from your insurance place! How are you today?
Me: Fine.
AG: Have you met your new representative Connie Whatshername yet?
Me: No.
AG: Well, I'd like to set up an appointment so you could meet with her and go over your insurance needs.
Me: Is that absolutely necessary?
AG: (blink) Well, no. It's just a courtesy.
Me: Then I don't think we'll be doing that.

I have to admit that I was impressed that he didn't press the issue. I mean... strike one for calling in the first place. Strike two for asking me to leave the apartment in order to talk with someone. I already spat venom at the last insurance idiot who called me in response to an e-mail I sent. If I send an e-mail and I ask for an e-mail reply, how mad do you expect me to get when you call? I'm sorry if writing a semi-grammatically correct sentence hurts. Not my problem.

In unrelated news, we are both the proud owners of ergonomic keyboards. You'd think that two people who spend 20 or 30 hours per day on the things, we would have done it sooner. You'd be wrong. Still getting used to them, but I have to say that they're comfy as all get out. Next up: ergonomic mice! Good luck finding ones that aren't cordless.

Oh. Here's something for the family: it was 37 here when I woke up yesterday. I think it was 39 this morning. I know those are your highs right now, but take some small pleasure in the thought of me wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants and being cold at those temperatures. Don't gloat too much, though. Saturday's high: 80.

Results Inconclusive

I got a message from the brain place on Friday. There's another study of some sort, and they want to know if I'm interested. I'm assuming it's for migraines. Could be for hair loss, but I doubt it. I'll find out more on Monday, but here's hoping there's more experimental drugs and minimal side effects in my future!

Hoover? Damn!

We recently purchased a carpet steamer/shampooer/cleanifier thingy. I've never been so simultaneously delighted and horrified with a purchase. Put aside for the moment the fact that the thing is cheaply made, with cheap toy-grade plastic, by our dear, dear friendly neighbors in Mexico. Disregard the fact that the instructions do not actually show how to attach the hose to the device. Overlook the Hoover brand name no longer means diddly, and that there's no way in hell this machine is going to last 20 years. Observe instead the horrors that are coming up out of the carpet. Ick. Arizona is a filthy, filthy state. Despite its shoddy construction, the cleaner seems to work well. The carpet feels better.

I Want To Be An Electric Eel

We went out to lunch the other day. To my right was a table full of cackling hens of varying ages who were extremely excited about their recent/upcoming trip to China. I know this because they wouldn't shut up about the two young girls learning Chinese. At the table. Over, and over, and over again. Now, I fully support the idea that those who are going to visit a foreign land have at least a passing familiarity with the language. I do not support you screaming Chinese while I'm trying to eat. The exception being that I'm in a Chinese restaurant, and some buffet buffalo just stomped on the foot of a waiter.

Behind me sat a family with an infant and a small child. The infant started out in a high chair, but cried so much they moved him/her/it to a seat with one of the parents. At more than one point during my meal, the baby kept touching my back. Now, many people will go "awww, how cute!" This is why I don't get along with most people. Up until that point, I had no idea the baby was immediately behind me. While I'm not the most massive person around, I guarantee you that my mass is more than enough to harm the baby had I leaned back, sneeze, or whatever. Tiny baby fingers will lose out every time. And in that scenario, I would be the bad guy. Because the goddamn parents aren't watching their friggin' infant. At home, where they should be until he/she/it is old enough to vote.

I'm waiting for some entrepreneur in Tucson to open a restaurant that only serves adults. They will get 100% of my business. Except on Screamin' Mandarin Tuesday.

Yep, Still Breathing

You know you're working hard when you get an e-mail from your parents that say they never hear from you. Then you check your blog and see you haven't posted in a month and a half. Wow. We've been a bit busy. Moreso than usual since the online empire took a severe kick to the groinular region. We're cranking out new shops, new blogs, and basically scrambling to lessen the impact of it all. Hey, it still beats waking up to an alarm clock and going through the day with homicidal thoughts. Plus, we're learning at an almost constant rate. Scary, perhaps, but true.

Sunday marks our sixth wedding anniversary for those of you keeping score at home. It seems that the traditional gifts for year six are candy and iron. Don't get those confused. The modern gift is wood. We'll take the candy, thank you.

Western Tanager

Nothing really blogworthy going on. The most interesting non-work-related thing to happen was two-fold: it rained, and during the rainstorm we were lucky enough to see a pair of amazingly colorful birds out of our sliding glass door. Glowingly bright yellow body, orange head, and black wings on the male, and yellow and grey on the female. I later learned that it was a pair of Western Tanagers (not teenagers, though some of those are colorful). They made for a nice splash of color on what we've come to term a "grey New York kind of day".

Other than that, not much. Working. Go figure. We're exciting like that.

Red Rock, Sedona, and Trains

The weather was darn near perfect. The above was taken at Red Rock State Park, where we walked several miles of trails. The train ride was downright nifty, even though there were far, far more people on the train than I had expected. ("Any" counts as far more people than I expected.)

It was a cloudy couple of days, which in any place other than Arizona would be bad. In Arizona, clouds are welcome. They add greatly to photographs, and cut down the blasting bleaching badness of the big hot thing in the sky.

My Brain Hurts. Or It Will.

I got a call today from the migraine study place. They're cancelling the study. She said it was because the company felt they weren't getting the results they wanted, but I find that hard to believe. So that means that early next month I go in for my last appointment. We'll see how many days it takes until I start getting migraines again. It was a nice vacation. Maybe they'll be nice and give me a going away present of a few metric tons of pills.

The Last of the Thirties

I turned 39 a few minutes ago. At least as far as the calendar is concerned. If you want to be a stickler about it, it won't be for another 18 hours or so. I don't remember the exact time. I didn't have a digital watch then. (Or now, for that matter.) It's the last year I can be 30-something. I'm OK with that, because that was a crappy show. Deb has already made her famous chocolate chip cookies in honor of the event, so our plans for the day will involve cookies, lunch out somewhere, and more cookies. Sounds pretty darn perfect to me!

Next year at this time, I'll be cursing at turning 40. Because it just sounds old. And in 2012 when the Mayans come back from the dead and their gods kill us all, I'll be 42. Assuming they wait a couple months before they snuff out all existence. If you're a Douglas Adams fan, that age is significant. If you're not, then it isn't.

It's A Tradition

Whilst taking down some Christmas decorations outside today, I heard something that really put me in the mind of Christmases (or Christmasi) gone by back on the hill. As I was outside in my T-shirt, taking down garland and tending my peppers (yes, they're still growing), I heard the lilting notes of an ice cream truck. Not the engine, but the plinking music. It's just what one would expect to hear on the second of January, no?

End of December

Isn't this what the end of December looks like for everyone? T-shirt weather. Sunny, green, low 70s... No? Sucks for you, then. We spent part of the day breaking in our new walking sticks at the Catalina State Park. We walked for a couple miles. Had to cross actual water on multiple occasions, too! A rarity in Arizona, for the most part. The sticks were invaluable in that regard, so thanks again Kathy and Dan!

Nothing to Say

So I'll say it. That's what a blog is for. The usual here: working, making stuff, putting things in both shops. No real post-election insight to share. When the choice is between a slogan and the Manchurian Candidate, it just cements how bad off we really are.

Unrelated to anything: it was 84 today. 84 tomorrow, too. It's mid-November. Enough already! Make with the 60 degree temps!

Decision 2008

I have started a list. It contains the names of all the candidates who have called our phone in the last few days. It's so I can remember who absolutely will not receive votes from us.

One really took the cake today. (Not surprising, really. Politicians taking stuff.) We received a call today, and since I didn't recognize the number I didn't answer. The voice mail was a recorded message for one of the AZ candidates for whatever. I looked up his website, found a contact form, and used it to tell him that his phone call cost him two votes. I actually got a response, and the response has made me laugh. A lot. Why? He wanted me to call him so he could speak to me. Not kidding. I did not call. I will not call. I did e-mail him back and explain how insulting it is not only to be bothered by phone calls, but to be asked to call when I said quite clearly that it was the phone call that pissed me off in the first place.

Oh! There were typos in the e-mail, too. I let him know about that as well. I'm not voting for someone who can't spell. (I know, it's not from him. It's from a volunteer lackey. Don't care.)

Really Expensive Lunch

Yesterday, my lovely wife and I decided to go out for lunch. I got in the car, turned the key, and was greeted with a ticking sound instead of an engine-turning-over-and-running sound. Color me cursing. Since I know as much about cars as I do particle physics (actually less), I started calling. First my brother, then my father, and then Dan. (Good thing Dan was there, because that's pretty much it as far as the "people we can call" list goes.) Dan figured it out, we called the emergency roadside thing offered by our insurance company, and they showed up inside 20 minutes. A jump-start later, and we were off to the mechanic to get a new battery and an oil change. Since they couldn't take the car right away, we walked to IHOP for lunch. A leisurely lunch later, plus another 20 minutes or so, and the car was done and the wallet was about $190 lighter. Not counting lunch.

One Angry Man

Jury summons. I have to be at the courthouse at 8:30. A.M.. Why can't I be called for jury duty to night court? I'd like to watch a judge that can do magic tricks. I wish I had had more than a couple days' notice. I would have made a t-shirt that said something like "You are all guilty in the eyes of Gorto the Sock Demon, and you will burn forever in the Dryer of the Damned!"

Instead, I'll take a pill in a few minutes to put me to sleep, wake up to a damnable alarm clock, put on friggin' pants!!, and have my lovely-but-groggy wife chauffeur me to the court house. Where I will be summarily dismissed for one reason or another. Hope hope hope...

That reminds me. I've got to grab some books. How low-tech.

Still Breathing

We're still alive. Just busy. The blog suffers, but that's OK. Nothing much exciting here, anyway. Keeping two shop sites going is still taking some time, but we're getting the hang of it. And of course, when really busy there's nothing better than opening yet another site! Yes, I'm a moron. For the curious (and the search engines) it's shirtgazer.com. Stargazer... shirts... shirtgazer. Made sense to me! The site isn't 100% complete yet, but all the links go where they're supposed to go. That's good enough for right now.

Other than that, not much. The weather has finally cooled off a bit in the last few days. Enough so that we've actually had the windows open until about 1 pm, and can open them again at night. Well, have them open without letting the burning hellfire inside and melt the carpet.

Not Funny

Guess who just got another jury duty summons in the mail? ("Another" is the key word in that sentence.) Yep, me. Federal court this time. No, it turns out I'm not exempt. In order to be exempt, you have to actually have served on a jury that delivered a sentence. The sentence I'm delivering has lots and lots of expletives.

Color me pissed yet again.

Wordle

This one's for Sam. My blog is apparently about phones and problems, which I find terribly funny as those two words go hand-in-hand.

Never Let It Be Said That I Have No Sole

I've been spending some time recently doing something different. Designing shoes. It's a nifty new thing at Zazzle, and quite honestly I'm having fun doing it. (This coming from the guy who has purchased exactly one pair of shoes since moving to Arizona.) (Not that I'm going to buy any of these. I stopped wearing women's shoes years ago.)