Rambling Rhodes: February 01, 2004 - February 07, 2004 Archives

February 06, 2004

Why, Yes, I Am A Moron

Yes, people, I KNOW my permalinks don't work. They have not worked since this blog was created, and I don't know how to fix it. I've stared at the problem, and I've dissected the HTML tags until I started to weep, and I've changed things, and I've changed things back. And still, STILL, I don't know why they don't work. Well, that's not entirely true. They kind of work, by which I mean, they take you to the correct month, but as for taking you directly to the post somebody tried to link to, well, that just doesn't work. I'm sorry. I apologize. I wish I was dead.

My thanks do go out to you kind folks who have tried to assist me here, and you know who you are. Your help and concern is very much appreciated. I really do truly want to address this problem, but I keep putting it off because I have grandiose plans to leave Blogger entirely and create a new and wonderful interactive site that makes you want to cream in your jeans because, let's face it, if my site was a jean creamer, you'd be here all the time, just creaming in your jeans.

The problem is, I don't understand this shit at all. Trackbacks and blogrolling and the "Internet" are all crazy, foreign things to me, which is kind of pathetic, seeing as how I write for technical magazines for IBM. Seriously, if you read some of my articles, you come away thinking I really know what the hell I'm talking about. But, I don't. You might think I'm an expert with EDI. But, I'm not. I'm kind of like an idiot savant. I can write and write and write about technologies I don't understand, and yet somehow it comes out pretty much correct. It's kind of creepy, when I think about it.

So, anyway, no, I don't understand much of anything when it comes to this blogging stuff. I'm pretty much a neanderthal blogger. "Me write stuff. You read. You no read, I SMASH!"

Again, I apologize for the hosed permalinks. Hopefully, someday, I'll be able to provide you all with an enriching blog experience here at Rambling Rhodes, complete with pictures and games and a bunch of other things that will help inspire jean creaming.

Until then, me write stuff. You read. You now read, I SMASH!

Posted by Ryan at 03:50 PM | Comments (0)

February 05, 2004

Crazy Conversations

Caroline says: If I had a cat, I'd name it mellow.

Caroline says: and maybe if I got another cat, I'd name it marsh

Ryan says: Very witty.

Caroline says: I feel witty, oh so witty...

Ryan says: Just like if I had a dog, I want a dingo, and I'd name it Bingo.

Caroline says: the dingo ate my baby

Ryan says: Owning a dingo named Bingo would be the coolest thing ever.

Caroline says: and Bingo was his nameoooo

Ryan says: And then I train Bingo to attack both Marsh AND Mellow.

Caroline says: Marsh and Mellow could kick Bingo's dingo-butt.

Ryan says: Dingo-Butt?

Caroline says: band?

Ryan says: Is that a cousin to Boba Fett?

Caroline says: Yes.

Caroline says: identical cousins

Caroline says: they look alike, and walk alike and sometimes even talk alike

Ryan says: And ride a bike, and take a hike, and take turns inserting anal spikes.

Caroline says: ew, what kind of cousins would do that?

Caroline says: kissing ones?

Ryan says: Close cousins.

Caroline says: very very close

Posted by Ryan at 02:29 PM | Comments (0)

February 04, 2004

Schizophrenic Screed For Feb. 3, 2004

I've been slacking when it comes to my duty to bring you, my valued readers, the weekly installments of the Schizophrenic Screed. Honestly, though, the weirdo who writes these things for the Stewartville Star has been really incoherent and long winded lately, and that's saying something. To give you an idea, here's his latest:

Macheye CREST - TEEN - Y of degrees of latitude of angle of eccentricity, of left. As the final signals come in, they are read as follows: Tr - Tic - A - OC - Ent - SAC. Left-angle-spiral. 1-Pan-cheas. 2-Biliary-duct. 3-Bile-carrying. 4-Bilious. 5-Penumbra. 6-Umbra. 7-Umber. 8-Umbilical. 9-Umbilicus. 10-umbrassiere-spiral. Of-right angle. New can you see. 11-Angle of eccentricity. Now we have a total democracy. Now you can put a line through Republicans, Democrats, and Imperialism of everything. Now if you want to know the element of the brain stem, get educated. Now to help you out on education for that new biology test in the year 2006. So we'll start with what is called CA-e-Pyramid Cell. The following words are cross references within the A-now you can do your cross referencing. A: 1-Ap-O-gee. 2- AS-y-mp-tote. 3- At. 4-A-moe-ba. 5- A-moe-bio. 6- A-moe-boid. 7-Am-nion sac. 8-A-phelion lion. Now we can get down to business. As we decipher the VA3 Pyramid Cell out piece by piece we now go to a new formula known as C-A-K-E-3 Pyramid Sunflower Spiral Cell. The breakdown is in sunflower. Sunflower as in medical book. Sunflower as in medical book. Sunflower as in sunflower seed like a cup of coffee of caffeine like a can of pop of caffeine, like boiling a pot of coffee.

Gary XXXXXXXX
XXX-6989

Jeez, my fingers actually hurt after having transcribed that insanity. The guy is clearly slipping further and further into what the scientific community refers to as "nutballism." The thing is, nobody in Stewartville or the surrounding community has the guts to tell him to get back on his medications and stop spewing this bizarre nonsense. Why? Because he's creepier than a vine. I mean, think about it: a mangled-looking human being, with a huge scar across his face, stands in front of you and spouts the spooky shit italicized above. What would you do? Right. You'd do what I used to do: stand there and nod and pray the encounter would just end.

And now for some shameless traffic whoring by repeating the names Kristin Bell and Veronica Mars:

Posted by Ryan at 06:19 PM | Comments (0)

February 03, 2004

Random Stuff

Yes, I realize I didn't post anything yesterday. There's a reason.

I was sleeping.

You see, I won a Super Bowl party at Buffalo Wild Wings, so there was no way in holy hell I was going to go tromping into work come Monday morning. I took Monday off. And boy oh boy did I sleep. I slept like I haven't slept since college. We're talking one of those slumbers where you practically enter another dimension. A slumber where you're practically dead, except you're not. You're alive, and the only thing you want to do is sleep, and possibly sleep yourself to death.

Of course, it doesn't hurt if you were raging bombed the night before. Ah, the Super Bowl. An excuse to drink yourself to another plane of existence. I haven't been that inebriated since, like, forever. It was good to be back, but I won't be going there for a long looooonnngggg time. Until the next time. Probably March 1, my birthday.

But, hey, how about that Super Bowl?! I admit it, I was rooting for Carolina, for no other reason except that New England already won a Super Bowl, like just a couple years ago. Come on. Spread the wealth, people. Don't be so greedy. Stop hording all those Super Bowl trophies. Lousy New England.

*obligatory comment on Janet's nasty nipple*

First off, I don't really care for the whole halftime show. If I wanted to see people prance around and lip sync, I'd go back through my Milli Vanilli DVDs (okay, I don't own such a thing, and I honestly hope no such thing exists). I really don't understand the appeal of the halftime show. Each year it gets worse and worse. More flamboyant. More stupid.

But, this year there was, apparently, a nipple. Janet Jackson's nipple, no less.

I didn't see it, to tell the truth. I think I was getting a beer refill at the time. But, the fallout the next day made sure I would see, again and again, what probably ranks as the worst looking nipple in the history of nipples. Yes, Janet, my dear, I understand that your career is on the decline, but there was no need to torment 100 million viewers with the sight of your tired boob harpooned with whatever that thing was adorning your unfortunate nipple.

Don't get me wrong. I'm a huge fan of breasts. I think they're fantastic. But, the thing is, really great breasts are best viewed unsullied by tattoos or metal appendages. When I see a nipple ring or boob tattoo, I think, "wow, gee, she's probably 98 percent nasty whore." And, before you scream "sexist pig," let me just assure you that I think male nipple piercings and/or tattoos are just as stupid and unappealing. They don't make you look tough, guys. They make you look as dumb as a rotten log.

So, there was Janet Jackson, her face splattered with enough make-up to kill whatever dog or cat it was tested on, looking about 20 years older than she probably is, unleashing her pendulous fake breast to the world, adorned with what was apparently a ninja throwing star. And, what's worse? That poor exhausted boob was unveiled to the world by Justin Timberlake, who apparently has not yet come to terms with the fact that he can't grow a full beard to save his life. The manboy looked like he had mange, for crying out loud.

*end nipple commentary here*

It was a great Super Bowl, though. Top O' the line entertainment.

So, how did I fill my weekend, you ask? Okay, you didn't ask, but I'm telling you anyway. I saw the movie "The Big Bounce" with Melissa on Saturday night. It. . . was. . . slow. I mean, it wasn't horribly bad, and it wasn't all that good. It was just kind of there. It was better than Janet Jackson's nipple, but not better than Salma Hayek's, is what I'm saying. Melissa and I left the theater kind of in a numb state, trying to mentally digest whatever it was we just saw. The major saving grace of the movie was that it was set in Hawaii, so Melissa and I sat there and wished we were back there, but otherwise it was just kind of a so-so movie.

And, oh, in case you haven't heard, we endured a Noah's flood of snow between Sunday and Monday. It just snowed and snowed and snowed. And today it's just plain cold. Yep. Minnesota: you're soaking in it. And then you're freezing in it. Still, I love this state, even though I'm not at all sure why.

I also renewed my driver's license yesterday. I can't believe it's been four years already. The picture looks basically the same, but the person has changed immensely. When I last updated my license, I was in a job I loathed, with a manager I loathed more, and a romantic life that bordered on self-abuse mixed with male whoring. If you were a female with a heartbeat, chances were good I'd hit on you. A mere four years later, and I find myself with a job I both like and am pretty damned good at, with co-workers I like, and a girlfriend who is great and, more importantly, almost just like me in personality. All that positive change, and yet the picture looks the same. I don't know what I was expecting.

And so here I am on a Tuesday. Toggling between blogging and catching up on work. And I'm happy.

Way happier, it would seem, than Janet Jackson's skewered nipple. Man that thing looked nasty.

RANDOM LINK: A soldier's perspective.

Posted by Ryan at 10:38 AM | Comments (0)