Movin' on up

Dynamo and I finally moved in to our condo in Midwood, Brooklyn. For those of you unfamiliar, Midwood is EXTREMELY close to Manhattan, has a lot of really cool, hip things to do, and all the meats are easily identifiable at the neighborhood stores.

However, things aren't all perfect. I'm living out of my suitcase, but at least my bed is in my room to stay and will never be in the living room and the PS2 is set up. But I predict in the next 2 weeks, I'll be cooking all my meals and buying tons of groceries and putting them in our new fridge that will replace the old one that doesn't fit, using any single spatial dimension, in the space it was meant. And though I don't currently have internet access right now (which means this blog was created in the future and sent back through time somehow), I also predict my computer will soon be here, along with a nice dresser for my clothes. Yes, everything will go smoothly in the next two weeks, I can feel it.

Photos of new apartment are sure to follow.

Robots Amongst Us

I think my coworker is a robot. Of course I'm scared, cause all robots are programmed to kill, usually women named Sarah Connor. Ok, so this guy/metal man isn't The Terminator, but he could be A terminator. I'd like to present Exhibit A, an email conversation with him, as evidence:

Me:

Mr Roboto,

I assume Angl0-Saxon Roboto is a
decently common name, but I came across this while searching for myself:
http://tedleoguide.com/tedleolive.credits.html

Were you ever affiliated with the band in some way?
I took photos of them back in the day that they used on their site…

Possible Robot Guy:
Not me. You are right both my first and last name and the combination of the 2 are very com-mon in the U-nited States of A-mer-i-ca, England, Ireland and Scotland. Please give me robot food.
*arms swinging back and forth mechanically*

And if that's not enough to convince you that the robot invasion is in full swing, witness the picture I found on the internet and decided looked just like him:

Viral Self Defense

About a month ago, I was required by my job to complete a security awareness training course. There were a couple of parts to the course, including Email Awareness, which involved knowing that electronic mail messages are now all the rage, and Defend Yourself Against Viruses, which I was so excited about passing that I printed up the certificate and hung it on my cubicle wall.*

All of the sections had a course to read through before taking the quiz, which of course I skipped and went straight for the tests. Who needs background information when you're a genius in your own mind? This backfired when I failed one of the categories. A 75% is passing. As long as I get 7.5 out of 10 right, I'm good. Sadly, there was no partial credit for a half-right multiple choice answer.

Rubbish! I closed and reopened one of the sections, as I decided the tests were getting too taxing and wanted a short break. That counts as a failure, and I only have 5 tries per test. Not I look like I complete dullard!

Perhaps the best part, even better than the questions, was the goofy illustrations




*Is there a more depressing sentence than this? Maybe only involving land mines.

Eat at Joe's

Do you live in broadleaf or coniferous forests, 5 to 10 thousand feet in altitude? Like resting in the trees but feel constantly pushed out by developers taking your land? Do you posess a pseudo thumb, useful for grasping stems and shoots as you sit, human style, on the floor? If you are an up to 250 pound male, or 220 pound female, with distinctive black and white marks, and the above applies to you, why don't you come snack on our delicious bamboo flooring. Stop on by. Dynamo and myself are always receptive to visitors. We have only the finest caramelized and pre finished bamboo planks, and for your convenience, they're just sitting in tons of boxes in Dynamo's room. Help yourself. Perhaps enjoy a side order of drywall, or bring back some screws for the kids to play with. The deliciousness is limited, so call today.

Sorry, but zebras, red pandas painted white, and all other imposters WILL be turned away.

The Strongest Bird

At my superbly creative job, I'm in charge of digitalness. One aspect of this tremendous responsibility is handing hard metal objects, with cords and cables, to creative types who take said objects, head to Brazil for a week, and drink on the beach. The metal objects, or hard drives, which should be used to store images in the form of digital information, are more often used as frisbees or pawned to buy more caipirinhas.

To keep these coveted items safe, I ordered Pelican cases, which are hard on the outside, soft on the inside (think Arnold Schwarzenegger in "Kindergarten Cop"). These suckers are tough. A tank could run over them, even stopping to rest on them while the driver does presumably more important things (like shoot at the enemy a la G.I. Joe) and the case would hold up.

But like all superheroes and strong cases, Pelican has its weaknesses. While searching the website, I found the comforting "Pelican Unconditional Lifetime Guarantee of Excellence" section. This was followed by the less comforting "The above guarantee does not cover sharkbite, bear attack or children under 5" section. I wonder if real pelicans need be so worried by Jaws, ursines and toddlers.

Halloween

I've become increasingly less enamored with Halloween. It's still a more sacred holiday to me, than say Bastille day, but for how long? I've been driven to this position by costumes, as well as my neighbors.

Now I'm not attacking all the cute little kids in costumes. At least, not right now. But I will, to steal all their candy, and then I'd be the Candy Don, ruler of the sugar market. I think children usually dress up cute, and I applaud parents for taking them around, like a pack of really dense locusts, whatever area they live in to get food that will rot their teeth. In addition, I officially approve of costumes for women. So what if they're completely ridiculous, and basically an excuse for women to dress up like sluts. I remember Halloween parties in college where every single woman was either a sexy nurse, a sexy angel, a sexy devil, a sexy catwoman, or in very rare cases, a slutty, strip teasing, sexy nurse who moonlights as Catwoman. Thus is my concept of Heaven.

My problem isn't even that I never have a really good idea for Halloween, and if I did I think of it in February and then forget it well before the time to implement it. My problem is I can't dress up for Halloween without revealing my secret identity:



















A few of my neighbors have put up a ridiculous amount of tacky decorations, including, but not limited to: saran wrapper bats on the walls, fake cobwebs on plants with plastic spiders, a sad looking dracula but an excited Frankenstein, etc. Do they keep all this elaborate nonsense the entire year? It seems a shame to throw it out, especially the giant skeleton on the door. The worst part, however, is a witch in the corner of the hallway, which everytime I walk past, I think is a person lurking to get me, and I immediately drop into Chuck Norris mode. The damned wicked witch also apparently lights up and cackles. I'm gonna drop kick that motherfucker!