Wednesday, June 14, 2006
What a remarkable day
Well, let's see...I've moved from one city to another, and yet I'm spending the night in a third city while most everything I own is spending the night in a fourth city. And yet for reasons that are way too complicated to explain, this was actually the plan all along. If you figure it all out, then you win -- and your prize is that you get to explain it all to me.
What a day. As expected, it's one of those days where your first meal comes at one in the afternoon and consists of some fast food, and your second meal comes at two in the morning and consists of a bagel. It's the kind of day where the muscles in your body each fall into one of two categories: 1) achy, or B) numb. It's the kind of day where you make lists that alternate between number and letters for no reason, and you can't bring yourself to go back one line to fix it.
Of all the days in your life, it's probably the one that you should not have capped off by attending a sporting event in the standing room only section. But hey, I've been waiting eighteen years for this, and it is the NBA Finals after all. I remember the Miami Heat losing the first seventeen games it ever played. I was there thirteen years ago for the Heat's first-ever home playoff game, in which Michael Jordan smoked them for 56 points and yet they almost beat him anyway. I distinctly remember the team giving out clackers that night, noisemakers designed to distract the opposing team to the point that they can't hit their free throws. So I knew something was right when I walked in the door of the arena this evening, and the team was once again handing out clackers. Someone clearly has a sense of history. And someone's looking pretty smart right now, as the game was ultimately decided when the other team's star player, a ninety percent free throw shooter, missed a free throw with one second left.
Nail biter? Sure. They spent the first quarter using the video screen to showcase the various celebrities in attendance at the game, ranging from Michael McDonald to Gloria Estefan to Dolphins running back Ronnie Brown, giving them each the opportunity to look poised and smile for the camera. Late in the fourth quarter they show Gloria again, and this time she's biting her nails. Eh, you can't blame her, she's been a season ticket holder for all eighteen years. She'd been waiting for this as long as anyone. And you've got to love a game that, after all those years of waiting, literally comes down to the last second. There's nothing like walking down Biscayne Boulevard after midnight while all of downtown Miami erupts into pandemonium over the fact that the home team actually won.
What a way to cap off a day. Of course I'm probably not so enthused about it if Payton's crazy final shot with two seconds left on the shot clock hadn't dropped, but that's the way it goes. With six minutes left the Heat had lost this game, and they had lost it badly, and everyone in the building knew it, too. How they stole the game back in the final six minutes...well, you had to be there. And I was - even if I was standing on a makeshift platform poised above the worst seats in the house, about nine hundred feet above the court. From what I could tell, no one in the seats below was actually making use of their seats anyway. You don't go to a game like that to spend any time sitting down.
Well, I've got to get a little bit of sleep so I can go finish tomorrow what I started today.
Well, let's see...I've moved from one city to another, and yet I'm spending the night in a third city while most everything I own is spending the night in a fourth city. And yet for reasons that are way too complicated to explain, this was actually the plan all along. If you figure it all out, then you win -- and your prize is that you get to explain it all to me.
What a day. As expected, it's one of those days where your first meal comes at one in the afternoon and consists of some fast food, and your second meal comes at two in the morning and consists of a bagel. It's the kind of day where the muscles in your body each fall into one of two categories: 1) achy, or B) numb. It's the kind of day where you make lists that alternate between number and letters for no reason, and you can't bring yourself to go back one line to fix it.
Of all the days in your life, it's probably the one that you should not have capped off by attending a sporting event in the standing room only section. But hey, I've been waiting eighteen years for this, and it is the NBA Finals after all. I remember the Miami Heat losing the first seventeen games it ever played. I was there thirteen years ago for the Heat's first-ever home playoff game, in which Michael Jordan smoked them for 56 points and yet they almost beat him anyway. I distinctly remember the team giving out clackers that night, noisemakers designed to distract the opposing team to the point that they can't hit their free throws. So I knew something was right when I walked in the door of the arena this evening, and the team was once again handing out clackers. Someone clearly has a sense of history. And someone's looking pretty smart right now, as the game was ultimately decided when the other team's star player, a ninety percent free throw shooter, missed a free throw with one second left.
Nail biter? Sure. They spent the first quarter using the video screen to showcase the various celebrities in attendance at the game, ranging from Michael McDonald to Gloria Estefan to Dolphins running back Ronnie Brown, giving them each the opportunity to look poised and smile for the camera. Late in the fourth quarter they show Gloria again, and this time she's biting her nails. Eh, you can't blame her, she's been a season ticket holder for all eighteen years. She'd been waiting for this as long as anyone. And you've got to love a game that, after all those years of waiting, literally comes down to the last second. There's nothing like walking down Biscayne Boulevard after midnight while all of downtown Miami erupts into pandemonium over the fact that the home team actually won.
What a way to cap off a day. Of course I'm probably not so enthused about it if Payton's crazy final shot with two seconds left on the shot clock hadn't dropped, but that's the way it goes. With six minutes left the Heat had lost this game, and they had lost it badly, and everyone in the building knew it, too. How they stole the game back in the final six minutes...well, you had to be there. And I was - even if I was standing on a makeshift platform poised above the worst seats in the house, about nine hundred feet above the court. From what I could tell, no one in the seats below was actually making use of their seats anyway. You don't go to a game like that to spend any time sitting down.
Well, I've got to get a little bit of sleep so I can go finish tomorrow what I started today.
How to stop hating Apple for making such good products
Hey all you Apple haters out there, here's a step by step guide for getting over your irrational anger at Apple for making such good products:
1) Recognize that Apple's products are better than whatever you're using. You've already acknowledged this to yourself on various occasions, now put all that knowledge in one place.
2) Realize that you could be using Apple's products if you wanted to. Stop making up phony reasons for why you shouldn't or can't; in reality there aren't any such reasons.
3) Keep reading Step 1 and Step 2 until you finally figure out what Step 3 is. (hint: it involves you making a trip to the store)
Hey all you Apple haters out there, here's a step by step guide for getting over your irrational anger at Apple for making such good products:
1) Recognize that Apple's products are better than whatever you're using. You've already acknowledged this to yourself on various occasions, now put all that knowledge in one place.
2) Realize that you could be using Apple's products if you wanted to. Stop making up phony reasons for why you shouldn't or can't; in reality there aren't any such reasons.
3) Keep reading Step 1 and Step 2 until you finally figure out what Step 3 is. (hint: it involves you making a trip to the store)
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Make strange things happen in one easy step
Want to know how to get crazy, one in a million things to start happening? Just decide that you're going to move, and then watch as the weirdness coalesces around you. That's right, I'm moving the whole operation southward. I think of it as taking a vacation to South Beach and then just staying there. But anyway, the weirdness in the final forty-eight hours prior to my move has been steadily building. No one thing to set off all the alarms, but a growing cacophony of nonsense nonetheless.
Ever try using your cell phone with your eyes closed? That's what I've been doing for the past two days, because while my phone itself is still functional, its screen has left the building. This phone was already contending for the title of worst cell phone I've ever owned, and now it just took the prize. Actually, I'm kind of having fun trying to see just how much of the phone I can still use by simply knowing all the menus by heart. And trying to blindly navigate your way to the people you need to reach in your invisible address book is precisely what you want to be doing while you're in the middle of moving two hundred miles, right? See, I'm looking for the positive spin here.
And the poetic. My entire stint here in this area has been marked by the various hurricanes, so it shouldn't have come as a surprise that we're under threat of one on the day I'm finally leaving the area. Actually, this one's a tropical storm, and it's kicking up rain and tornadoes more than anything else, but you see, this is JUNE. Hurricanes don't happen in June. The first storm of the season comes in August, when you're throwing an iPod Party. Or September, when your sister is getting married while large objects are blowing past outside. But this particular storm has been kind enough to make a special appearance just to see me off. I'm touched.
Perhaps the best part is that fate has decided to take this moment to remind me of residences past, as it took two consecutive instances of FedEx emailing me to say that they couldn't deliver a package because I wasn't home, at a time when I was home, with no slip left on the front door, before I finally figured out that for some reason, they were trying to deliver a package to a place that I haven't lived in for years. No big deal, I'll just call FedEx and get them to deliver it to my current address tomorrow. Nah, that's not going to work, I won't be living here tomorrow. Alright, I'll just have them hang onto it and deliver it to my next address once I'm actually living there. No, that's not going to work either, because the package just happens to have two tickets to the NBA Finals inside. For the game tomorrow.
As I'm straightening this all out in my head, the FedEx guy arrives (because I love irony). Does he magically have my package? Nope, he's got some other package, along with a story of how a tornado just blew out a storefront a mile or two down the road. Because if there's one thing I love more than moving in a hurricane, it's moving in a tornado. Keeps you on your toes, and I could use the exercise.
So I call FedEx and ask them where I can go to pick up my missing package this evening (because the door slip with the pickup address on it is hanging on the door of a place I haven't lived at for years), and they give me a nice set of directions that has me getting off a Turnpike exit that doesn't exist, at which point I realize I'm pretty much on my own. Hey, no problem, one last opportunity to get lost in the hopeless mush of roads in this area that all go in a diagonal circle and never do intersect with each other. So after getting my fill of random roads that I hoped the FedEx facility just might be hiding on, irony strikes yet again as I suddenly find myself stuck behind a slow-moving FedEx truck. Suddenly the one functioning brain cell in my head screams "follow that truck!" And so I do...and I end up in a Wendy's parking lot. But across the street? The FedEx facility. Hey, that was too easy.
While I'm inside claiming my package (surprisingly easy to do, considering I didn't have the door slip), the other customer in the building utters the Line Of The Day: "You have to be smarter than the piece of paper you're writing on." I still haven't decided what it means.
So I got my tickets, everything's set to go, and for one added bit of punctuational humor, I turn on the television this evening and they break into the broadcast to run the following message:
Now don't that just sum it up?
Want to know how to get crazy, one in a million things to start happening? Just decide that you're going to move, and then watch as the weirdness coalesces around you. That's right, I'm moving the whole operation southward. I think of it as taking a vacation to South Beach and then just staying there. But anyway, the weirdness in the final forty-eight hours prior to my move has been steadily building. No one thing to set off all the alarms, but a growing cacophony of nonsense nonetheless.
Ever try using your cell phone with your eyes closed? That's what I've been doing for the past two days, because while my phone itself is still functional, its screen has left the building. This phone was already contending for the title of worst cell phone I've ever owned, and now it just took the prize. Actually, I'm kind of having fun trying to see just how much of the phone I can still use by simply knowing all the menus by heart. And trying to blindly navigate your way to the people you need to reach in your invisible address book is precisely what you want to be doing while you're in the middle of moving two hundred miles, right? See, I'm looking for the positive spin here.
And the poetic. My entire stint here in this area has been marked by the various hurricanes, so it shouldn't have come as a surprise that we're under threat of one on the day I'm finally leaving the area. Actually, this one's a tropical storm, and it's kicking up rain and tornadoes more than anything else, but you see, this is JUNE. Hurricanes don't happen in June. The first storm of the season comes in August, when you're throwing an iPod Party. Or September, when your sister is getting married while large objects are blowing past outside. But this particular storm has been kind enough to make a special appearance just to see me off. I'm touched.
Perhaps the best part is that fate has decided to take this moment to remind me of residences past, as it took two consecutive instances of FedEx emailing me to say that they couldn't deliver a package because I wasn't home, at a time when I was home, with no slip left on the front door, before I finally figured out that for some reason, they were trying to deliver a package to a place that I haven't lived in for years. No big deal, I'll just call FedEx and get them to deliver it to my current address tomorrow. Nah, that's not going to work, I won't be living here tomorrow. Alright, I'll just have them hang onto it and deliver it to my next address once I'm actually living there. No, that's not going to work either, because the package just happens to have two tickets to the NBA Finals inside. For the game tomorrow.
As I'm straightening this all out in my head, the FedEx guy arrives (because I love irony). Does he magically have my package? Nope, he's got some other package, along with a story of how a tornado just blew out a storefront a mile or two down the road. Because if there's one thing I love more than moving in a hurricane, it's moving in a tornado. Keeps you on your toes, and I could use the exercise.
So I call FedEx and ask them where I can go to pick up my missing package this evening (because the door slip with the pickup address on it is hanging on the door of a place I haven't lived at for years), and they give me a nice set of directions that has me getting off a Turnpike exit that doesn't exist, at which point I realize I'm pretty much on my own. Hey, no problem, one last opportunity to get lost in the hopeless mush of roads in this area that all go in a diagonal circle and never do intersect with each other. So after getting my fill of random roads that I hoped the FedEx facility just might be hiding on, irony strikes yet again as I suddenly find myself stuck behind a slow-moving FedEx truck. Suddenly the one functioning brain cell in my head screams "follow that truck!" And so I do...and I end up in a Wendy's parking lot. But across the street? The FedEx facility. Hey, that was too easy.
While I'm inside claiming my package (surprisingly easy to do, considering I didn't have the door slip), the other customer in the building utters the Line Of The Day: "You have to be smarter than the piece of paper you're writing on." I still haven't decided what it means.
So I got my tickets, everything's set to go, and for one added bit of punctuational humor, I turn on the television this evening and they break into the broadcast to run the following message:
Tornado Warning is currently in effect for the following areas: entire viewing area of this station...Lie flat in the nearest ditch...
Now don't that just sum it up?
Monday, June 12, 2006
You may be mentally ill if you...
A list of possible signs that you need the benefit of a rubber room:
You may be mentally ill if you...
1) Dress up in a biohazard outfit to protest a problem that doesn't exist:
http://www.boingboing.net/2006/06/11/images_from_antidrm_.html
Sorry kids, it's a short list :-)
A list of possible signs that you need the benefit of a rubber room:
You may be mentally ill if you...
1) Dress up in a biohazard outfit to protest a problem that doesn't exist:
http://www.boingboing.net/2006/06/11/images_from_antidrm_.html
Sorry kids, it's a short list :-)
Friday, June 09, 2006
How did I end up with two black video iPods?
For awhile there I had a nice pattern going there with my iPod purchases. My 3G iPod was white because, well, white was the only choice back in those days. My 4G iPod was black because it was a U2 iPod. When it came time to buy my iPod nano, I decided to keep the pattern going by alternating back to white. It seemed like choosing an iPod color without actually having to make a decision was going to be easy going forward.
But when I bought my video iPod, I couldn't quite figure out how to follow my own pattern: by last iPod purchase had been white, but my last full-size iPod purchase had been black. In the end, I went to the local Apple Store and spent time watching video on both (since that's the activity where I would actually be looking at the device), and I ended up concluding that the black one came closer to creating an aura of invisibility behind the video. So I bought the black video iPod, but I knew for sure my next iPod would be a white one.
Actually, I decided earlier this month that I could expedite accessory testing by doubling my number of current-model iPods. Doing so was going to be simple enough: add a black nano to complement my white one, and add a white video iPod to complement my black one.
Except now I'm sitting here staring at a beautiful new U2 video iPod, all black.
Oops.
So now I'm sitting here with a pair of black video iPods, both Fifth Generation, both thirty gigabytes. Oh well, the black backside of the new U2 iPod is worth the purchase all by itself. And unless something changes, I've decided that my new U2 iPod isn't going to see any accessory testing. I made the mistake of allowing my original U2 iPod to get beat up via product testing, which ended up being part of my motivation for wanting another one. For once, I think I'll keep this particular new iPod nice and pristine. Come to think of it, it's the first time in years I've bought an iPod purely for personal use. Well, almost purely for personal use.
Oh, and the answer to your question is eight.
For awhile there I had a nice pattern going there with my iPod purchases. My 3G iPod was white because, well, white was the only choice back in those days. My 4G iPod was black because it was a U2 iPod. When it came time to buy my iPod nano, I decided to keep the pattern going by alternating back to white. It seemed like choosing an iPod color without actually having to make a decision was going to be easy going forward.
But when I bought my video iPod, I couldn't quite figure out how to follow my own pattern: by last iPod purchase had been white, but my last full-size iPod purchase had been black. In the end, I went to the local Apple Store and spent time watching video on both (since that's the activity where I would actually be looking at the device), and I ended up concluding that the black one came closer to creating an aura of invisibility behind the video. So I bought the black video iPod, but I knew for sure my next iPod would be a white one.
Actually, I decided earlier this month that I could expedite accessory testing by doubling my number of current-model iPods. Doing so was going to be simple enough: add a black nano to complement my white one, and add a white video iPod to complement my black one.
Except now I'm sitting here staring at a beautiful new U2 video iPod, all black.
Oops.
So now I'm sitting here with a pair of black video iPods, both Fifth Generation, both thirty gigabytes. Oh well, the black backside of the new U2 iPod is worth the purchase all by itself. And unless something changes, I've decided that my new U2 iPod isn't going to see any accessory testing. I made the mistake of allowing my original U2 iPod to get beat up via product testing, which ended up being part of my motivation for wanting another one. For once, I think I'll keep this particular new iPod nice and pristine. Come to think of it, it's the first time in years I've bought an iPod purely for personal use. Well, almost purely for personal use.
Oh, and the answer to your question is eight.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Interview with me on Shelly's Podcast
For those interested, a fifteen minute interview with me on the new MacBook has been included on the latest episode of Shelly's Podcast, the award-winning weekly podcast of Shelly Brisbin, author of the book Easy iPod & iTunes. Recorded on location in Los Angeles, we also discuss iProng's experiences at last month's MacGathering among other topics.
Shelly's Podcast can be downloaded from the official website or subscribed to through iTunes.
I was also interviewed last month on the MyMac Podcast, which like an idiot I forgot to post here. Here's the direct link for those who don't want to dig through the archives. If nothing else, you'll get to find out who Biff Parker is.
For those interested, a fifteen minute interview with me on the new MacBook has been included on the latest episode of Shelly's Podcast, the award-winning weekly podcast of Shelly Brisbin, author of the book Easy iPod & iTunes. Recorded on location in Los Angeles, we also discuss iProng's experiences at last month's MacGathering among other topics.
Shelly's Podcast can be downloaded from the official website or subscribed to through iTunes.
I was also interviewed last month on the MyMac Podcast, which like an idiot I forgot to post here. Here's the direct link for those who don't want to dig through the archives. If nothing else, you'll get to find out who Biff Parker is.
