Blog City had many positive aspects, and several glaring drawbacks, which is kind of the reason I left. Well, that and the wonderful Pixy Misa. Anyway, one thing that worked flawlessly for me was the Sitemeter hits. I installed in into the main page and all pages that got hit were tagged, including archived hits. I moved over here and my counts dropped precipitously. Even when the puppy blending Traffic Fairy through people my way, I didn't get the visitors I was expecting, not even the Google traffic. Then Life Trek happened to mention in my comments here that I needed to add the Sitemeter to my archived pages. D'oh! Big difference in traffic. Sunday is a slow day in general, and I've already received about 50% more hits today than usual. No telling how many visitors I missed along the way. Oh well, things can only look up. Right?

Posted by: Physics Geek at 03:04 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Of course I liked it. Thank Dean for the link.

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Were you born in the Year of the Ass? Consult the Animal Calendar to find out!

Year of the Cock:
Those born in this year tend to be the most aggressively abusive denizens of the office. Their evil crowing is ubiquitous, and they tend to regard all others as born in the year of the hen, and often become executives or partners in law offices. Watch out for the ones born on the cusp of the Year of the Ass!

The Year of the Maggot:
These specimens usually become the bitterest of bitter clerks, often degenerating into paralegals in the terminal stages. The maggot yearns to rise up and cast down his masters, yet he knows he never will.

Year of the Sheep:
Prime exponents of the herd mentality. See them demonstrate loyalty. See them worship the corporate ethic. See them get laid off!

Year of the Weasel:
These are the true rodents. They're stroking you with one hand and stabbing you in the back with the other. Those who lack the ethics for child molesting often go into human resources.

Year of the Cockroach:
The geek of the corporate world. His self-esteem is so non-existent that he finds the most humiliating abuse elevating. It takes all kinds to fill out the circle of life, so go ahead and crap all over him. It's your cosmic duty.

Year of the Hen:
Another creature that finds the meaning of life in denigration, except this one is often overpaid and still enjoys stomping the few available lower forms of life, such as the cockroach. For details, see dictionary under *legal secretary.*

Year of the Snake:
Always eager to feast on the still-twitching corpse of a co-worker, the Snake attempts to slither over the remains of other middle managers into positions of real power but is often mashed to jelly by Asses and Cocks.

Year of Dung Beetle:
This miserable creature actually enjoys and takes pride in meaningless, rote tasks--the only things he can do right. He often rants about powerful spreadsheet and databases programs, but carries an enormous day planner/address book with no entries in it.

Year of the Squid:
The multi-talented but oily-textured Squid is usually found in engineering programming areas. The squid's numerous limbs allow him to accomplish many tasks while still reserving one arm to jerk off with.

Year of the Ass:
True to his name, this one usually gravitates towards sales, politics, and other forms of aggressive parasitism. The braying of the ass fills the halls of power, yet many of this species never go farther than the corner liquor store. The blade of Karma is razor sharp.

Year of the Sea Cucumber Blenny.
In nature, this small fish establishes a symbiosis by living in the anus of the sea cucumber. In the business world, the blenny is usually an executive *assistant,* maintaining an affinity for the far reaches of the Ass.

Which year were you born in ?
Cock: years end in 0 (i.e. 1960), Maggot:1, Sheep: 2, Weasel:3,
Cockroach:4, Hen:5, Snake:6, Dung Beetle: 7, Squid: 8,
Ass: 9, Blenny: Leap Year.

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1) Dress up in Cookie Monster costume, jump out from bushes and yell, "Hmmm me want COOKIE!"

2) Ask for bizarre types of cookies like Garlic Mints or Pork Cremes.

3) Sample one and exclaim, "This doesn't taste anything like Girl Scout!"

4) Make a mobile of children's skulls from your local medical supply
warehouse. Decorate it with Girl Scout berets and merit badges.

5) Two words - pit bulls!

6) Become sexually offended at every cookie offered to you. ("Shortbread?
What are you implying? I'm as functional as any other man! Thin mints?! Are you saying I'm not buff?")

7) Save up all the cookies you bought last year. When they come by this
time, offer to sell them your cookies first.

"I'd love to buy your cookies, but the court order prevents me from
coming within 50 yards of children under the age of 17."

9) Ask what sort of credit plans they have.

10) When they knock on the door, give them candy and say how you love their
costumes.

11) Dress your own kids up in severe military uniforms and have them answer
the door. Try to sell the Scouts some Hitler Youth cookies.

12) Invite them in for a sleepover. Don't take no for an answer. (Works
best if you're Michael Jackson)

13) Women, answer the door wearing your old Girl Scout uniform. Pull out
your 15-year old leftover cookies and excitedly offer to help with the fundraising.

14) Ask where the rest of the Spice Girls are.

15) Snap their training bras from behind. Or from the front.

16) Put mirrors conspicuously on the tips of your shoes and ask the little
girls to step a few feet closer.

17) Scream that you're a diabetic and you'll sue their parents for
threatening your health.

1 Have your anorexia support group meet at your house and greet the
little ones. ("COOKIES! COOKIES? Look how fat I am already!")

19) Have your bulimia support group meet at your house and greet the little
ones. ("Mmmm cookies! I just have to make some room for cookies!"
*BLEEEAAAAACHHHH!* "I'll take six boxes, now.")

20) Interrogate the girls about their religious and political preferences.
("Are you a commie? Ever have any abortions? You're not gay, are you?")

21) Scream about your pending lawsuit with the Girl Scout cookie manufacturers. ("You can't come within 100 yards of me with the litigation pending! I still have hives from those chocolate wafers! My lawyer will hear about this!")

22) Answer the door nude. (Oops, you're supposed to only do that to
Jehovah's witnesses)

23) Cover the doorbell with tree sap or boogers, or vaseline.

24) Answer the door in full HAZ-MAT gear and spray them with disinfectant
foam. ("Johnson, quick, we have to burn the porch!")

25) Light yourself on fire and dive at them. You can only do this once.

26) "Cookies? Cookies? My grandmother baked me cookies just before she
(break down sobbing) ... before she... she..."

27) Thrust graphic pictures of caged animals in their faces. ("How many
kittens died for your chocolate sandwich cookies???")

2 "I used to sell Girl Scout Cookies. Do they still beat you if you don't
sell all of them?"

29) With every sales pitch, try to convert the Scouts to Jehovah's
witnesses. ("Want some cookies?" "Have you found grace in our Lord Jesus Christ?")

30) Whip out your cell phone and pretend to call the Child Labor Welfare
Association. Examine the girls for signs of abuse.

31) Offer jobs to the Girl Scouts to come make Nikes in Guatemala for five
cents a day.

32) Demand to taste a cookie before buying a box. Then say something
totally bizzare. (e.g., Lick a thin mint and say, "Hmmm, too many peanuts.")

33) Demand to taste a cookie, and fake a seizure or allergic reaction. ("Oh
shit! You mean these have sugar in them??" *GGURGGG*)

34) Tell them you don't buy Girl Scout cookies due to your religious
beliefs and slam the door.

35) Loudly exclaim to your spouse in background, "Look, they're selling
flavored suppositories! And they come in chocolate, too! Won't the grandkids be pleased!"

36) Hang a huge crucifix on the door, with Jesus dressed up in a miniature
Girl Scout uniform.

37) Just mount a whole child's skeleton on the door, dressed up in a Girl
Scout uniform.

3 Pour fresh concrete on your porch and don't set up any signs.

39) Begin shooting wildly when they approach the porch. ("You'll never take
me alive! Not you or the black copters or anybody!")

40) Leave jack-o-lanterns from last Halloween on the porch. Of course, this
works much better in the summer.

41) Act perfectly normal, except for the fact that you're dry-humping a
beanie baby during the entire solicitation.

42) "Me Tarzan, you Girl Scout! We go make hot monkey cookie love!"

43) Carry out entire sale doing your best Bobcat Golthwait impression.

44) Act if one perfectly normal ingredient is the most erotic thing on
earth. ("Does it have... raisins... in it? Ooooh, I just love raisins... Do your parents know you've been selling... raisins?")

45) Lick you fingers as if you've been eating chicken, then gradually
proceed to groom yourself like a cat.

46) Answer the door like a hyperactive retard. ("EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" *leaping
up and down* "I wanna cookie! COOKIE COOKIE COOKIE!")

47) Dub a tape of Ice T rapping "Kill Da Cookie-Pushin' Girl Scout
Bitches". Play it very, very loudly on your stereo system.

4 Put on an adult-size uniform and try to recruit the girls away from
their current den mother.

49) Stand at the door and leer at them. Just leer. Don't say a word.

50) Shoot one of them point blank in the head. Scream "OH MY GOD, I KILLED
KENNY!" at the top of your lungs and wait three seconds. If any are still
standing there, repeat.

51) Just let them know how crappy and overpriced the damn things are.

Posted by: Physics Geek at 05:49 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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My wife and I very much appreciated all of the well wishes and prayers. It means a great deal to us both. She's home and recovering nicely under my care.

Thanks again. To everyone.

Posted by: Physics Geek at 08:21 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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1 Glad it went well.

Posted by: caltechgirl at May 13, 2005 09:54 PM (x/Dup)

2 Me, too. :-)

Posted by: physics geek at May 13, 2005 09:59 PM (agX6E)

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My wife goes in for surgery tomorrow, albeit of a relatively minor kind. Being the professional worrier that I am, I'm stressing out a bit over the hazards of general anesthesia. Internally, of course, since I remain upbeat for the missus. Any kind thoughts or prayers tomorrow would be greatly appreciated.

Posted by: Physics Geek at 08:18 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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1 I will send off my positive vibes later. I had to go under a couple times last year and was a little freaked myself. Apparently the old issue was oxygen-deprivation since GA lowers body functions to the point where the Anesthelogist is breathing for you. If they weren't making sure you got enough 02, brain death could set in. Nowadays its much improved, they hook up 3 or 4 redundant blood oxygen sensors for constant O2 blood monitoring so GA has even less issues than before.

Posted by: Lycan at May 11, 2005 09:32 PM (dHD6C)

2 very little to wrry about. Just breathe deep and count backwards from 10..... Thoughts and prayers are on their way, too.

Posted by: caltechgirl at May 12, 2005 12:30 AM (x/Dup)

3 My thoughts and prayers to you and your wife - here's to a successful surgery and speedy recovery.

Posted by: Madfish Willie at May 12, 2005 01:52 AM (MEfjQ)

4 one prayer uploading...

Posted by: Harvey at May 12, 2005 06:34 PM (tJfh1)

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A New York judge has ruled that DMV cannot proceed with a plan to revoke the licenses of illegal immigrants, or people who used fraudulent Social Security numbers. Uh huh. Not surprisingly, this ruling is being appealed.

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Be afraid. Very afraid.

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Anyone ever been asked to read Who Moved My Cheese? It's a story that was concocted by corporate bigwigs to make you "think of the possibilities" when you're losing your job due to outsourcing, downsizing et al. Anyway, the author of this article talks about the head-up-the-ass mentality infecting corporate America today. Excerpt:

In my particular case, my entire cheese supply has been shredded and shipped to Canada. In many cases, it's India.

That's right, I am a victim of the outsourcing fad that has taken this country by storm. Not only was my job replaced, but I was also asked to train my cheaper, offshore replacement so that he could do my job. Incredibly, I was expected to be happy about it. I was encouraged to put on rose colored glasses and look forward to being "freed up" to do "other things with my life". On a daily basis I was told by management that, despite any emotions I was having about this change, now is an important time to "stay focused" on my job. The CIO actually sent out an e-mail advising us all to "avoid participating in any resistance". Thanks, Mayor McCheese, I'll try not to.

When I first was told I was going to be outsourced, the boss above mine suggested that I read "Who Moved My Cheese" by Spencer Johnson to deal with the monumental change. Considering the circumstances, not only was this insulting, it was insensitive to the gravity of the situation. What was the goal here? It was to "help" me accept was happening, comply with it and begin to view the shady state of affairs as "a positive". Really, this is like handing me a map of Stepford, a glass of water and a couple of pills so that I can start making myself at home in my new town. I mean, maybe if I just stop and think about the positives of living in Stepford, I won't mind that someone moved me there and I'll grow to love it!

That's alright. I prefer to keep my brain functions, thank you.

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Memo to Jim Lampley: when Michael Moore sounds more sensible than you do on a particular subject, it's a sign that you are in dire need of serious medication. Excerpt:

At 5:00 p.m. Eastern time on Election Day, I checked the sportsbook odds in Las Vegas and via the offshore bookmakers to see the odds as of that moment on the Presidential election. John Kerry was a two-to-one favorite. You can look it up.

People who have lived in the sports world as I have, bettors in particular, have a feel for what I am about to say about this: these people are extremely scientific in their assessments. These people understand which information to trust and which indicators to consult in determining where to place a dividing line to influence bets, and they are not in the business of being completely wrong. Oddsmakers consulted exit polling and knew what it meant and acknowledged in their oddsmaking at that moment that John Kerry was winning the election.

And he most certainly was, at least if the votes had been fairly and legally counted. What happened instead was the biggest crime in the history of the nation, and the collective media silence which has followed is the greatest fourth-estate failure ever on our soil.

For the record, I always thought it was the actual votes that indicated who actually won an election, rather than who pollsters thought would win. My bad. I guess by Lampley's rationale, McGovern kicked Nixon's ass.

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Thomas Sowell has another winner today. Excerpt:

Recently a friend described a meeting with a nasty-tempered leftist who was from a rich family. Unfortunately, there are a lot of leftists who were born with a silver spoon in their mouth -- and, instead of being grateful, are venomous against American society.

Conversely, there are people like yours truly who were born on the other end of the economic scale and think this is a great country. No one has really explained either of these phenomena.

Maybe a painful confrontation with the facts of life early on makes it harder in later years to get all worked up over abstract issues that seem to preoccupy the left.

Once you have ever had to go hungry, it is hard to get worked up over the fact that some people can only afford pizza while others can afford caviar. Once you have ever had to walk to work from Harlem to a factory south of the Brooklyn Bridge, the difference between driving a Honda and driving a Lexus seems kind of petty as well.

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Bob goes into the public restroom and sees this guy standing next to the urinal. The guy has no arms. As Bob's standing there, taking care of business, he wonders to himself how the poor wretch is going to take a leak. Bob finishes and starts to leave when the man asks Bob to help him out. Being a kind soul, Bob says, "Ah, OK, sure, I'll help you."

The man asks, "Can you unzip my zipper?"

Bob says, "OK."

Then the man says, "Can you pull it out for me?"

Bob replies, "Uh, yeah, OK."

Bob pulls it out and it has all kinds of mold and red bumps, with hair clumps, rashes, moles, scabs, scars, and reeks something awful. Then the guy asks Bob to point it for him, and Bob points for him. Bob then shakes it, puts it back in and zips it up.

The guy tells Bob, "Thanks, man, I really appreciate it."

Bob says, "No problem, but what the hell's wrong with your penis?"

The guy pulls his arms out of his shirt and says, "I don't know, but I ain't touching it."

Posted by: Physics Geek at 09:29 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Sven and Ollie were walking downtown when ole looks at some boats tied to the dock and says, "You know Sven, I built all those boats there, and when I walk downtown, no one ever says "There goes Ollie, the boat-builder"."

"Yah," says Sven.

So the two men walk a little farther, and Ollie sees at a row of houses built on the fjord and says, "You know Sven, I built all those houses there, and when I walk downtown, no one ever says "There goes Ollie, the house-builder"."

"Yah," says Sven.

So the two men walk even farther, and Ollie notices a row of cabinets in one of the local shop windows and says, "You know Sven, I built all those cabinets there, and when I walk downtown, no one ever says "There goes Ollie, the cabinet-maker"."

"Yah," says Sven. "You fuck one pig...."

Posted by: Physics Geek at 09:14 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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1 I love this joke in ALL its various incarnations. I hadn't heard "Sven and Ollie" yet

Posted by: caltechgirl at May 10, 2005 03:14 AM (x/Dup)

2 Hmmm... that WOULD explain Michael Moore...

Posted by: Harvey at May 10, 2005 06:46 PM (tJfh1)

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There once was a lawyer who was so fanatical about his golf game that he used to play every day. One morning he had played the first hole and was just about to tee off on the second, when he saw the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen putting on the first. The lawyer waited until the woman had reached the second tee and asked if she would like to join him and they could finish the round together. To his surprise the woman agreed and they played the remaining holes. Not only was this woman beautiful, she was also a good golfer.

When they completed their round, the lawyer told the woman that, not only was he a lawyer, but he was also a cordon bleu chef and wine buff.

He invited her back to his place for a meal and a few drinks. The woman accepted enthusiastically and off they went.

Back at the house the lawyer cooked a magnificent meal. In fact it was more than just cooking it was a performance to behold. They enjoyed good food, good wine and good conversation.

After the meal, the woman repaid the lawyer with the best oral sex he had ever experienced. The lawyer was so taken by the beauty and skill of this woman and desired her no end. He then asked if she would like to play golf the following morning, to which she agreed.

Once again they enjoyed a great game of golf, a magnificent evening meal and once more the woman performed sensational oral sex on the lawyer.

This went on for three weeks when the lawyer finally said to the woman, "Listen, the golf and the company have been fantastic! But, there are only so many performances a man can take. When are we going to have sexual intercourse?"

"We can't," said the woman.

"Why not?" came the reply.

"Because I'm a transvestite" replied the woman.

"YOU BITCH!" screamed the lawyer, "...I CAN'T BELIEVE that you've been playing off the LADIES TEE FOR THE LAST THREE WEEKS!"

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Or a Monty Python parody. Your call.

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I noticed that Stephen Green seemed to be suffering from a bit of ennui when I started reading this article at Vodkapundit. Then I saw the following tidbit down near the bottom:

And here's where I buried the lede, way deep: Melissa is pregnant. She's due in December. We have a tiny little vodkaswiller on the way, to be delivered undoubtedly by a schnockered stork.

So if I'm still not thrilled with blogging, it's for damn sure I'm thrilled about something.

I'm going to be a daddy.

I can't wait.

Congratulations, Stephen. Your life is about to change in ways you can only dimly imagine, and they're all good.

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I received the following set of images via email. Should such a woman ever darken your door, my advice is for you to run. Fast.

Click on the extended link to see more. more...

Posted by: Physics Geek at 05:01 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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Of course I missed this. Of course I did. Bah!

Posted by: Physics Geek at 04:53 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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1. You accidentally enter your password on the microwave.

2. You haven't played solitaire with real cards in years.

3. You have a list of 15 phone numbers to reach your family of four.

4. You e-mail the person who works at the desk next to you.

5. Your reason for not staying in touch with friends and family is that they don't have e-mail addresses.

6. You go home after a long day at work, you still answer the phone in a business manner.

7. You make phone calls from home, you accidentally dial "9" to get an outside line.

8. You've sat at the same desk for four years and worked for three different companies.

10. You learn about your redundancy on the 11 o'clock news.

11. Your boss doesn't have the ability to do your job.

12. You pull up in your own driveway and use your cell phone to see if anyone is home to help you carry in the groceries.

13. Every commercial on television has a web site at the bottom of the screen.

14. Leaving the house without your cell phone, which you didn't have the first 20 or 30 (or 60) years of your life, is now a cause for panic and you turn around to go and get it.

15. You get up in the morning and go on line before getting your coffee.

16. You start tilting your head sideways to smile.

17. You're reading this and nodding and laughing.

18. Even worse, you know exactly to whom you are going to forward this message.

19. You are too busy to notice there was no #9 on this list.

20. You actually scrolled back up to check that there wasn't a #9 on this list.

Posted by: Physics Geek at 02:36 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Stephen Beaumont offers up some of his random thoughts about beer. Excerpt:

Aftertaste in beer is not a bad thing, it's good. For that matter, so is taste.

You can't crown yourself king of something. That's known as a dictatorship.

Spices, fruit, wood-ageing, quintuple fermentation with multiple strains of yeast: It's all good. Go for it. But try to bear in mind, please, that at the end of the day somebody's got to drink the stuff.

Fruit beer needs to tastes like beer flavoured with fruit. Not vaguely alcoholic-tasting fruit juice.

Needing to be 21 years old to drink makes about as much sense as needing to be 21 to eat chocolate. Both substances are benign if consumed responsibly.

There's more, if you're interested.

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