Entries from July 2010 ↓

I’ve been clicking the “remember my username and password” button for years, now. But it never matters, does it?  Not on websites, not even on local files sometimes. Sure, there’s some things that work. AOL Instant Messenger. Steam. Yahoo Messenger.

But in all the years I’ve been using it, Yahoo Mail doesn’t actually remember a damn thing. Neither does MSN Passport, despite making sure I’ve got a username and password saved. Some sites remember. WordPress sites are good, Livejournal is good, and TVTropes bakes a fine cookie, but the vast majority of the internet never seems to remember what you tell it to. The button has been there for years, certainly, but not the function.

When people hear my schedule tends to run overnight, that I’m rather turned around, they ask why.

The simple answer is “I live in Phoenix.” It’s 105 degrees, it’s hot, oppressively so. There’s constant, beating sun, no cloud cover, no precipitation. It’s the kind of environment that drives people mad in movies, and with good reason. It’s a hostile, threatening environment, and you spend at least three months seriously uncomfortable throughout the day.

I don’t know that there’s a recognized reverse SAD, but if there isn’t, I think some doctors need to come to Phoenix and observe. People are lethargic, irritable, depressed, and even violent when they work a day shift here. Yet the people at night, normally considered the rough shift, particularly overnight, are much, much happier.

Frankly, it’s just EASIER to sleep through the daytime, and your body tries to enforce it. Wake up a bit before sundown, enough time to go hunting, live overnight, go to bed after another hunt at dawn. Most of the dangerous creatures in the desert are even out in the daytime, particularly the snakes and other bitey things. Coyotes are out at night, but not particularly dangerous to people, and much less stealthy.

Daytime and Arizona just don’t mix.

And yet, colleges here insist on putting the best classes at noon, starting in late August, during some of the worst temperatures of the year.

Shit.

Well, technically I’m ghost writing it.

I can’t tell you who it’s for, as much as I want to, and I probably shouldn’t reveal this much. All I can say is this fall, you should get a copy of “Witches’ Tits and Sheiks’ Taints:My Life in Meteorology.”

Apparently he’s in Glendale, Arizona. Aka Metro Phoenix.

AFK, sharpening knives, doin’ a dime in the big house.

Not when you read the following on Wikipedia:

“It was started in 1986 by surviving members of the now defunct Suicide Club of San Francisco.”

I just learned where “Fuckin’ magnets, how do they work?” originated by being shown the Insane Clown Posse video for Miracles.

My IQ just dropped by 20 damn points, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get them back. Thanks, Shaggy and J.

What is it about that last hormone blast that makes so many teenage boys start the wrong shit with the wrong people by reacting the wrong way?

I was at a great party Saturday night, and aside from about five minutes, everything went great. But for 30 seconds someone didn’t follow the rules, a potential fight got broken up, and then the four friends of the teenager in question tried to keep it going. They got swarmed by around 30 people in a half second, continued yelling for 10 seconds, then realized that it was a very, very bad idea to start a fight amongst a group of people that fights amongst itself regularly for fun.

On the upside, maybe they learned they’re not invincible. Probably not.

I need to lighten the picture unfortunately, of all the pics I took, the clearest was the darkest for some reason, and you can’t see the grey/awesome Jeffersonish sideburn curve even. But for that I have to spend 4 hours reinstalling CS4.

Until then, this is good enough!

I totally need to Photoshop in a blood eye, too.

I saw Jefferson Twilight today at Wal-Mart.

I’ll put up pictures of him later, of course, but I think I have a new habit. I’ve always looked at stores for weird people and horrible fashion choices.

I’m going to start looking for AWESOME people too from now on. I bet I can find them as weird as the Wal-Mart I go to is. They may not know they’re awesome, but I do when I’m walking by someone and literally screech to a halt in amazement.

Yes, that’s a real sentence fragment spoken on my local Fox Affiliate. “When cougars die young, what happens to their men?”

First off, CAN cougars even die young? I thought the point was that you were, at minimum, middle age, if not old.

Second, well, their men are in their 20s or so. So either they get jobs or they get new cougars.

The real question is what happens when cougars die old or dump their now 30 year old man? Now that’s a guy to worry about.