It looks like I'm going to have to start locking up my office supplies at the end of my work day.
I just put 5 fresh pens in my utensil-holder on my desk yesterday and I have ONE, count them, ONE left. Seriously people, when you use a pen, put it back, especially if you're taking it from me, because I am a notary, and notaries need blue pens at all times!
I have 4 hi-liters, 3 black sharpies, 4 mechanical pencils, 3 crappy garbage pens, and 1 nice blue pen. There is something seriously wrong with this picture!
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
The Farce That is MyHeritage
I was first introduced to the concept that is MyHeritage Face Recognition while browsing profiles on the derelict dungeon that is MySpace. I thought "this is cool, I should try this." So I made an account and to my shock and disbelief rounded up this nice collage...
Not too shabby! I wouldn't have ever imagined I could be mistaken for Selma Blair's 3rd cousin or Nicole Kidman's step-niece twice removed but I'll take it!
I could have just stopped there and reveled in my self-inflicted vanity but I was just curious enough to try it again with another picture, you know, just to see how many other hot young Hollywood IT-girls I resembled. Me and my amibition...
Ok, so what happened here? Did MyHeritage all of a sudden figure out that it was waaaay too generous in handing out the Good Genes Awards like E.Coli on Taco Tuesday? Looks like it to me, since last time I checked I was a female, not Harry Potter's sodding red-headed stepchild. And the whole Robert Schumann comparison REALLY throws me. Since when do I resemble homely looking men from the 19th century?
So, being the sneaky farce-exposing strumpet that I am, I decdied to pull a fast one on MyHeritage, just to see if they're really doing their homework, or more appropriately pulling random famous people out of their rears. I think the latter is true considering this interesting find...
I rest my case. It's a sad thing when they can't even match up one of the most recognizable 'celebrities' (and yes, I'm using that term lightly, especially in this case) in the world.
OK, one more, just for fun...
Sheesh. Well, I tried, *sigh*
Not too shabby! I wouldn't have ever imagined I could be mistaken for Selma Blair's 3rd cousin or Nicole Kidman's step-niece twice removed but I'll take it!
I could have just stopped there and reveled in my self-inflicted vanity but I was just curious enough to try it again with another picture, you know, just to see how many other hot young Hollywood IT-girls I resembled. Me and my amibition...
Ok, so what happened here? Did MyHeritage all of a sudden figure out that it was waaaay too generous in handing out the Good Genes Awards like E.Coli on Taco Tuesday? Looks like it to me, since last time I checked I was a female, not Harry Potter's sodding red-headed stepchild. And the whole Robert Schumann comparison REALLY throws me. Since when do I resemble homely looking men from the 19th century?
So, being the sneaky farce-exposing strumpet that I am, I decdied to pull a fast one on MyHeritage, just to see if they're really doing their homework, or more appropriately pulling random famous people out of their rears. I think the latter is true considering this interesting find...
I rest my case. It's a sad thing when they can't even match up one of the most recognizable 'celebrities' (and yes, I'm using that term lightly, especially in this case) in the world.
OK, one more, just for fun...
Sheesh. Well, I tried, *sigh*
Friday, July 27, 2007
Obscenity Free Since '83
#%@!
$&%#*@!!
*%^#@*&!!!
@%@^$*#@&!!!!!!!!!
Do you have any idea what I just said? Neither do I. Yet right at this moment there are probably at least 7 to 8 obscene words running through your mind as a result of seeing the above combination of symbols. What a way to start the day.
Case in point. I'm watching a decent and suprisingly 'ok' movie, (The Holiday, starring Cameron Diaz, Kate Winslet, Jude Law, and Jack Black) and am struggling to figure out why on earth it's rated PG-13. There's no nudity, no illicit drug use, no violence, nada. About two-thirds of the way through the movie, when I'm just starting to get comfortable with this interesting yet hard-to-believe notion, BOOM!, Jack Black drops the F-Bomb in a completely unecessary and inappropriate spot in the script. Up until this point he's been sweet, funny, and caring, just about sweeping Kate Winslet's character off her feet. One single awkward colorful methaphor later, the whole mood of the movie seems to change, whilst I try to perform mind-control on Kate so she'll box Jack's ears and send him straight out the door. But all she says is "Yeah." Period. All of a sudden I'm having the urge to check my email or let the dogs out. What a waste of a good movie!
The above movie can be added to the growing pile of 'good' movies with bad intentions. You know, the ones where producers are on the fence trying to decide if they want to chance it with a PG rating or 'kick it up a notch' to a PG-13 to entice a broader audience. Then the investors/film execs step in and bark the order to throw in something just obscene (and I must add awkward) enough to raise the MPAA's eyebrow and get the stricter stamp. As if the shock-value obsessed majority would scoff at something that was actually wholesome and flee the theaters in search of some Nip/Tuck reruns on Tivo.
The way the world looks at obscenity has changed over the decades. It used to be all about decency and obscenities, swear words, cuss words, bad words--call them what you will--were only used by the vagrants and the criminals, etc. Men would lose their front teeth over uttering unclean speech in front of a lady. Now it's all about freedom of speech and ooooh the abuse it's endured over the years. Now the tables have been turned and obscenity is part of the everyday conversation. It fills our school hallways and our ears at dinner, just to name a couple of intrustions. If you don't swear there's "something wrong with you". Peer pressure at its finest I say. When I'm talking to a coworker and I say "kick his butt" or "holy cow", they look at me funny and give me the expression like "it's ok, you can say #&$!, I ain't your moms". It's not about that though. When someone opens their dirty mouth, they are saying things that don't mean a thing. Sure, they put a so-called "emphasis" on what they're trying to say and it toughens up their language. But to me, as soon as someone utters an obscene word, it completely destroys my train of thought because the words are like glue, they stick in the worst way. There are much better ways to get your point across by like, you know, polishing up your grammar and actually speaking like a human being. Half of the time the people with the potty mouths don't have a clue what they're even saying. I was at work one day and a contractor comes in and starts talking to one of our staff about the party he went to over the weekend, and it was $&# this and !&*% that. Only thing was, he was actually chuckling and expressing what a good time he had. I had no idea he had a good time, because I was too busy trying to scrape the filthy language off of my sub-conscious. First of all it was unprofessional, and second of all I should have handed the guy a thesaurus and $500 for a castration so he could never procreate.
I remember when I was in 5th grade and every week a kid brought in a movie for the class to watch during free time. One week I wanted to bring in American Tale, and this other kid's parents had just gotten him Mrs. Doubtfire, and he wanted to bring it in. Of course, the teacher went with my movie because of the obvious difference in rating. However, I was the laughingstock, the sissy girl, the goody-two-shoes because I hadn't brought something the 'cool kids' would like; a movie with 'bad language'. Of course now they're playing Mrs. Doubtfire on the Disney Channel and ABC Family, so you can see where that went. As I look back on the psychological damage that kids at school inflicted on me for not conforming to the neanderthalic norm, I do not envy those in the school system today. What a load of garbage they have to put up with.
I understand that we have freeness of speech in this country and I appreciate that, it has enabled so many positive things, and the negative is to be expected. The media is constantly pushing the envelope on what can be aired and at what rating because they're just trying to get viewers, and hey, everyone's gotta eat. I get it, and I don't expect anyone to 100% understand what I've been trying to say here. My point is, obscene talk is starting to resemble cigarette smoke. When it's around you, you can't just get away from it, a little always gets into your system before you can walk away. Yeah, we all have our bad days, and we want to curse everything in sight. It's called Yoga, taking a deep breath, punching a pillow, taking a walk, counting to 10, anything but one of those words.
$&%#*@!!
*%^#@*&!!!
@%@^$*#@&!!!!!!!!!
Do you have any idea what I just said? Neither do I. Yet right at this moment there are probably at least 7 to 8 obscene words running through your mind as a result of seeing the above combination of symbols. What a way to start the day.
Case in point. I'm watching a decent and suprisingly 'ok' movie, (The Holiday, starring Cameron Diaz, Kate Winslet, Jude Law, and Jack Black) and am struggling to figure out why on earth it's rated PG-13. There's no nudity, no illicit drug use, no violence, nada. About two-thirds of the way through the movie, when I'm just starting to get comfortable with this interesting yet hard-to-believe notion, BOOM!, Jack Black drops the F-Bomb in a completely unecessary and inappropriate spot in the script. Up until this point he's been sweet, funny, and caring, just about sweeping Kate Winslet's character off her feet. One single awkward colorful methaphor later, the whole mood of the movie seems to change, whilst I try to perform mind-control on Kate so she'll box Jack's ears and send him straight out the door. But all she says is "Yeah." Period. All of a sudden I'm having the urge to check my email or let the dogs out. What a waste of a good movie!
The above movie can be added to the growing pile of 'good' movies with bad intentions. You know, the ones where producers are on the fence trying to decide if they want to chance it with a PG rating or 'kick it up a notch' to a PG-13 to entice a broader audience. Then the investors/film execs step in and bark the order to throw in something just obscene (and I must add awkward) enough to raise the MPAA's eyebrow and get the stricter stamp. As if the shock-value obsessed majority would scoff at something that was actually wholesome and flee the theaters in search of some Nip/Tuck reruns on Tivo.
The way the world looks at obscenity has changed over the decades. It used to be all about decency and obscenities, swear words, cuss words, bad words--call them what you will--were only used by the vagrants and the criminals, etc. Men would lose their front teeth over uttering unclean speech in front of a lady. Now it's all about freedom of speech and ooooh the abuse it's endured over the years. Now the tables have been turned and obscenity is part of the everyday conversation. It fills our school hallways and our ears at dinner, just to name a couple of intrustions. If you don't swear there's "something wrong with you". Peer pressure at its finest I say. When I'm talking to a coworker and I say "kick his butt" or "holy cow", they look at me funny and give me the expression like "it's ok, you can say #&$!, I ain't your moms". It's not about that though. When someone opens their dirty mouth, they are saying things that don't mean a thing. Sure, they put a so-called "emphasis" on what they're trying to say and it toughens up their language. But to me, as soon as someone utters an obscene word, it completely destroys my train of thought because the words are like glue, they stick in the worst way. There are much better ways to get your point across by like, you know, polishing up your grammar and actually speaking like a human being. Half of the time the people with the potty mouths don't have a clue what they're even saying. I was at work one day and a contractor comes in and starts talking to one of our staff about the party he went to over the weekend, and it was $&# this and !&*% that. Only thing was, he was actually chuckling and expressing what a good time he had. I had no idea he had a good time, because I was too busy trying to scrape the filthy language off of my sub-conscious. First of all it was unprofessional, and second of all I should have handed the guy a thesaurus and $500 for a castration so he could never procreate.
I remember when I was in 5th grade and every week a kid brought in a movie for the class to watch during free time. One week I wanted to bring in American Tale, and this other kid's parents had just gotten him Mrs. Doubtfire, and he wanted to bring it in. Of course, the teacher went with my movie because of the obvious difference in rating. However, I was the laughingstock, the sissy girl, the goody-two-shoes because I hadn't brought something the 'cool kids' would like; a movie with 'bad language'. Of course now they're playing Mrs. Doubtfire on the Disney Channel and ABC Family, so you can see where that went. As I look back on the psychological damage that kids at school inflicted on me for not conforming to the neanderthalic norm, I do not envy those in the school system today. What a load of garbage they have to put up with.
I understand that we have freeness of speech in this country and I appreciate that, it has enabled so many positive things, and the negative is to be expected. The media is constantly pushing the envelope on what can be aired and at what rating because they're just trying to get viewers, and hey, everyone's gotta eat. I get it, and I don't expect anyone to 100% understand what I've been trying to say here. My point is, obscene talk is starting to resemble cigarette smoke. When it's around you, you can't just get away from it, a little always gets into your system before you can walk away. Yeah, we all have our bad days, and we want to curse everything in sight. It's called Yoga, taking a deep breath, punching a pillow, taking a walk, counting to 10, anything but one of those words.
Introductions in themselves are a cliche...
It took me over an hour just to name this blog and conjure up a title for the URL. Guess I'm a tad late to this whole "blog phenom" thing. I've never been one to follow a trend, unless it's on the the clearance rack at Macy's (80% off or something ridiculous like it), and by that time I'm about 6-8 months behind. *Licks finger and sticks it up in the air* Yep, seems about right.
You wouldn't believe how many 'blogspot' addresses have already been snapped up, only to be abandoned after their first post. Here's some of the winners that have been taken...
gingivitis.blogspot.com
readingthiswillmakeyousmart.blogspot.com
whogivesaratsass.blogspot.com
ihateblogging.blogspot.com
poopiepants.blogspot.com
hamsandwich.blogspot.com
bananahammock.blogspot.com
schmoopy.blogspot.com
doofusface.blogspot.com
No, I didn't want any of those (well, it was between hamsandwhich and bananahammock but I jest, I jest), I just assumed they'd be available and that mankind was not as pathetic as I'd hoped. I guess I should stop hoping somuch, gets me what I want, what can I say, I'm spoiled.
The other day I was at the gym running on the treadmill and this guy came in and started running beside me. He tried to strike up a conversation with me, as I know I was just the picture of beauty in gauchos and an ill-fitting sports bra (that's what I get for being behind the trend I guess). Thank god for the marriage card huh? Only I didn't have my rings on (swelling fingers suck) at the time and for some reason single men (or not so single men, it is 2007) don't seem to believe that you're really married unless you have the rings on. Like it would matter anyways, fidelity is a four-letter word in this country. So the guy asked me if I had any tatoos, and me being the nice *cough* naive person I am says no, that I would never put something that permanent on my body. And of course, what does said 'admirer?' do but deliver the inevitable "not even your husband's name?" Ah yes, one of those questions you just want to run and hide from since no matter how you answer it, it's going to come out sounding wishy-washy. So what do I do? I do my best wishy-washy impression since evidently I'm not good at lying. So I said no, not even my husband's name. What an idiot I am. That ultimately opens the door to him thinking "sweet, she has marital problems", when all I want to do is scream "I have a happy marriage!", hit the safety stop button on his treadmill and send him flying into the wall whilst I run and hide in the locker room. But, alas, I have 10 minutes left in my workout and I put the headphones back on and turn the volume up as high as it will go. Sorry ears, but it's the sacrifice you must endure until I can get home and squeeze the white gold back on to the sausage fingers. Needless to say, yesterday at the gym the same thing happened, he conveniently showed up on the same treadmill at the same time. Only this time I was almost done with my run and I bolted shortly after. Quite cowardly, but I hate being hit on. Makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong, even if I haven't said a word or smiled.
You wouldn't believe how many 'blogspot' addresses have already been snapped up, only to be abandoned after their first post. Here's some of the winners that have been taken...
gingivitis.blogspot.com
readingthiswillmakeyousmart.blogspot.com
whogivesaratsass.blogspot.com
ihateblogging.blogspot.com
poopiepants.blogspot.com
hamsandwich.blogspot.com
bananahammock.blogspot.com
schmoopy.blogspot.com
doofusface.blogspot.com
No, I didn't want any of those (well, it was between hamsandwhich and bananahammock but I jest, I jest), I just assumed they'd be available and that mankind was not as pathetic as I'd hoped. I guess I should stop hoping somuch, gets me what I want, what can I say, I'm spoiled.
The other day I was at the gym running on the treadmill and this guy came in and started running beside me. He tried to strike up a conversation with me, as I know I was just the picture of beauty in gauchos and an ill-fitting sports bra (that's what I get for being behind the trend I guess). Thank god for the marriage card huh? Only I didn't have my rings on (swelling fingers suck) at the time and for some reason single men (or not so single men, it is 2007) don't seem to believe that you're really married unless you have the rings on. Like it would matter anyways, fidelity is a four-letter word in this country. So the guy asked me if I had any tatoos, and me being the nice *cough* naive person I am says no, that I would never put something that permanent on my body. And of course, what does said 'admirer?' do but deliver the inevitable "not even your husband's name?" Ah yes, one of those questions you just want to run and hide from since no matter how you answer it, it's going to come out sounding wishy-washy. So what do I do? I do my best wishy-washy impression since evidently I'm not good at lying. So I said no, not even my husband's name. What an idiot I am. That ultimately opens the door to him thinking "sweet, she has marital problems", when all I want to do is scream "I have a happy marriage!", hit the safety stop button on his treadmill and send him flying into the wall whilst I run and hide in the locker room. But, alas, I have 10 minutes left in my workout and I put the headphones back on and turn the volume up as high as it will go. Sorry ears, but it's the sacrifice you must endure until I can get home and squeeze the white gold back on to the sausage fingers. Needless to say, yesterday at the gym the same thing happened, he conveniently showed up on the same treadmill at the same time. Only this time I was almost done with my run and I bolted shortly after. Quite cowardly, but I hate being hit on. Makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong, even if I haven't said a word or smiled.
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