Random Thoughts

Women are the ultimate bundle of contradictions, and they act like it’s the guys who are at fault when we don’t understand them.

Ladies, you’re simply not understandable. You’re a species who will run from a mouse or a spider, make a huge deal over the slightest bruise or cut…but will gladly PAY someone to cover your privates with boiling hot wax, then tear out your pubes by the root.

What is it with these advertisements on TV where they claim to be the exclusive user of “flex-tech”, “hug flex”, “Enzyme-tech” or whatever technology.

“We have patented isoflex technology, which is not available anywhere else!”

Oh shit! I can only get this amazing technology from you? I’d better run out and buy your worthless product.

Of course you’re the exclusive user of this technology, because you just made that shit up off the top of your head.

For example, this blog is the only blog you can read that uses a “Direct pressure-activated data input system” (I use the keys on my keyboard to type this shit)…and it’s the only blog you read using “Opto-Photontech interrface technology. (The light comes from your monitor to your eyes).

Oh, and to the good people at “Bowflex”, you can call them “Iso-grips” all you want. They’re handles .

Who pays these people who do these stupid “studies”, where they essentially spend millions of dollars and man hours to research a “mystery” that’s plain common sense…then either state the obvious, or fail to get an answer.

Like the study into why cornflakes go soggy in milk. A year goes by and the answer comes back “inconclusive”.

Could the answer be that they get wet? More importantly, who the fuck cares?

Then we get to the studies that show that “90% of accidents occur in the home”. No shit? The place I spend 90% of my time? What’s next guys? Are you gonna study why fire burns? (It’s hot). Or why getting punched in the face by an irate Englishman hurts?

Finally, there needs to be a change in the law.

When a person walks into a busy gas station and attempts to pay for a pack of gum or a can of Pepsi with a debit card or check, and not only refuses to just pay cash for a buck-fifty purchase, but also spends 45 minutes searching through an over-stuffed wallet or purse for their card or check book…especially when they had 20 minutes time in the queue to look for it and have it ready…it should be perfectly legal to kill, or at least maim them, in fact it should be illegal for the person behind them in the queue to not bludgeon them over the head with the nearest heavy blunt object.

The same goes for the people who smash into you with their shopping cart, then tut and give you a dirty look like it’s your fault.

Oh, and the people in the parking lot who stroll out in front of your car like the laws of physics don’t apply to them (IE a car hitting them won’t actually hurt them), and then when you stop, refuse to even speed up slightly to get out of the way…you should be allowed to gun the engine and watch them sail over the top of your car.

Urgent Press Release

In a shocking press release today, an industry insider leaked out what many computer users have know to be true for a long time.

The existence of the fabled (and long denied) ‘FU Chip’ that resides in all consumer grade printers.

“Well, me and the boys, after completely screwing the printer consuming public on ridiculously over-priced ink, decided to try another way to stick it to our customers.” Said Reginald P. Sackslapper, a Lexmark employee. “We came up with the FU chip as a joke, but it very quickly became a standard component.

So what does the FU chip do?

Using highly advanced technology, satellites and computer monkeys, the chip monitors the output of the printer and adjusts performance accordingly.

“So, if the user is printing a joke from the internet, a digital photograph of a particularly impressive poo or something inconsequential, the printer will work fabulously.” Said Sackslapper. “However, if it detects that something in the printer queue is important, especially if it is time sensitive, or urgent, it will completely crap out…or as well like to say in printer-lingo…’throw a major fucking wobbly, chuck its toys out of the pram and come into your house on Christmas Morning and piss on your kids’.”

So, as an example of this technology if, say, an immigrant to America from England decides to waste paper and printer ink by printing his SL store’s logo just because he thinks it’s pretty cool looking, he will encounter no problems whatsoever.

On the other hand, if he has an interview at a staffing agency at 9:30, and tries to print out his resume at 7am, the printer will completely fail to respond and won’t work until he’s uninstalled all the drivers, re-installed them and disconnected and connected the printer multiple times.

When our reporter asked Mr. Sackslapper why the printer industry enjoys inconveniencing their customers so much, he gave the following statement:

“Why? Why? Fuck ‘em! That’s why!”

(At the time of writing, printer ink is one of the most expensive liquids in the world. If ink was gasoline, it would cost $175,000 to fill your tank.)

What's It Like Over There?

Sometimes I wish I could get by on that fact that here in America I’m somewhat ‘exotic’.

Today I went and registered with a couple of Temp agencies. Now I have my Greencard, and can get my Drivers Licence…it’s actually worth it.

So I walked into the place, walked up to the window.

“Excuse me.” I said. “Can I fill out an application please?”

She looked at me quizzically.

“I need two forms of ID.” She said.

So I handed her my Greencard and British Drivers Licence…she looked them over, before handing them back.

“So where are you from?” She asked.

(Observation One. Right in the middle of my Greencard, in bold letters is ‘Country of Origin : United Kingdom’…My Drivers licence also has ‘United Kingdom’ written on it. Why does she need to see ID if she’s not even looking at it? I could have handed her a card that listed my name as ‘Osama Bin Laden’ and occupation as ‘Worlds Most Wanted Terrorist’, and she wouldn’t have noticed.)

This is usually the part of the conversation where I start to feel like Biff . The same questions over and over. “What’s England like?” “Is it different to here?” “Do you have computers/cars/flushing toilets?”

So after 10 minutes of culture comparision…(Yes, I have seen Friends)…

Anyway, I sit down and start to fill out the forms. To my horror, there’s a Math Test on there.

(Random Paulius Fact #324 : I’m crap at math. I mean, I can do algebra, trigonometry and all that complicated stuff, but the bad part is my brain just can’t get around the concept of numbers. I think I have a mild case of numerical dyslexia (if there is such a thing). Essentially, the only way I can do math is to see numbers as shapes. Shapes that fit together, and make new shapes that represent new numbers.

This is easy for ‘round’ numbers…but when I have to divide 8763 by 38…I might as well be trying to explain Einstein’s Theory of Relativity to a gerbil.)

So, anyway, I do my best. I consider writing the answer to the ones I can’t get my head around as “Start, Accessories, Calculator”, but think better of it.

Most of it is fairly easy…but I leave a couple unanswered…for the simple reason I’d be working at it for a couple of hours and probably end up with the wrong answers anyway.

I still have a problem though. The form has a huge list of skills that you tick off the ones you have experience in. My problem is that they’re all manufacturing skills. So I’ve not ticked any.

I go back to the window, and this time a different girl comes to collect my forms. I say:

“I’ve not ticked off any skills, I’m qualified for Office and Admin work, and I didn’t see any on there. Do you have a different form for that or something?”

She looked at me for a second and said:

“I like the way you talk.”

“Ummm… ok?” I replied. “But do you have a different form?”

“Where are you from?” She asked, completely ignoring my question.

“(Sigh) England.”

“Oh? Is it nice there?”

So you see, if I could get work over here based on the fact that I have an accent…I’d be rolling in the money.