Happy Holidays.

There is nothing wrong with the phrase. When I mean Merry Christmas, I will wish you one. When I mean Happy New Year, I will say so.

When I say Happy Holidays, I mean it. It includes Christmas, New Year, and whatever else you choose to celebrate in the next two weeks. It can even include your birthday, if your birthday falls within that window.

And if you don't celebrate any of this? Well same to you, bucko.

Tinnitus.

I keep hearing the phone...

You can learn a lot by watching "The Simpsons".

The monorail was a disaster for Springfield. It has sentimental value in Seattle, but try as you might, it won't have transportation value there, either.

Architects are guilty too

But not as guilty because you cannot fundamentally alter IPC, just omit certain key contributions. In Accounting, on the other hand, you can rename things in clever ways.

Reconstructed! Sort of

Chocolate Truffles

just over 1/2 lb. good-quality dark chocolate, 8.8 oz. to be exact
just over 1/2 c. heavy cream
good slug of brandy

Bring the cream to a gentle boil. Shut off heat and stir in chocolate until incorporated. Stir in brandy. Transfer to a bowl.

Beat the mixture with an electric mixer until it (the mixture not the mixer) lightens in color and becomes thicker. Transfer the mixture to a flat container. Cover and chill.

Cut the mixture into pieces and dust with cocoa powder. Keep cool.

Next task: experiment with flavors other than brandy.

Lord Acton got it right.

Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. And there's nothing like election day to make his point.

Maybe spitwads are the answer.

The guy next to me has a voice that carries. He spends a lot of time on the phone. He is aware of all of this and made a symbolic gesture toward addressing the issue. The symbolic gesture quickly went by the wayside. I can't keep turning up the headphones. Certain broadcasts cause them to pulse.

Ham Sandwiches

I've found the recipes on epicurious.com to be generally reliable. The comments from the reviewers also tend to be useful because more often than not they come from relatively seasoned cooks with a reasonable sense of what works, what doesn't, and what would probably taste good.

The comments can also be quite entertaining. For example, a comment on a turkey meatloaf recipe might read, "I made this with beef and pork instead of the turkey, and put a ketchup glaze on top instead of the curry. Oh, and instead of the carrots and zucchini, I put in more onions and a little oregano, just like my Dad used to. It was fantastic!" I find these comments hilarious because once you've done all that, it's not really a turkey meatloaf anymore, is it?

When this happens, I'm reminded of the time I had a coupon for a ham sandwich and soda from the campus coffee shop. They didn't have ham, and they didn't have bread aside from a few bagels left from breakfast. So, instead of the ham, they gave me lettuce, and instead of the bread, they gave me croutons, tomatoes, a few Kalamata olives, and a little Parmesean cheese.

It was a lovely salad, but it was surely the strangest ham sandwich I'd ever had.

*snicker*

I just named it log_root.

Wait a minute.

Where did all these meetings come from?

Dear Spammers,

I don't know what kind of simple-minded sucker you think I am. You seem to have this weird notion that any mention of sex, racism, politics, debauchery, and possibly gambling will catch my attention. My friends and I are all intelligent human beings. We do not spend our days thinking about sex, sex, and debauchery. You know that bit about Britney Spears being one of the most popular Google searches? I assure you I had nothing to do with it. If you want to impress me, put up some intelligent spam. Go on, I dare you.

Dear Hostess (and spammers),

Please find a way to make a whole-wheat Twinkie. I am sure you can do it. It will surely be a better breakfast option than Sara's preservative-laden 100% Whole Wheat Bread.

Dear Sara (and assorted spammers),

It was very clever of you to say that your 100% Whole Wheat Bread is "better" for me. It definitely is "better" for me than a Twinkie. However, the preservatives you added make for a depressing counterpoint to all the ways in which you try to play up the naturalness and healthfulness of your product.

Another experiment.

Sex! Debauchery! Spam!

MNN. (My News Network)

I don't understand why none of the news networks have tickers worth reading. It took a good 10 minutes yesterday (and three channel changes) to figure out what was wrong with that JetBlue plane. There was plenty of footage of the front tire blowing apart and sparks all over the runway. The captions mentioned JetBlue, LAX, and something dire, but they never mentioned why the situation was so scary. And what is more, the announcer guy never mentioned why the situation was scary. Instead, he talked about what a great landing it was.

Well. There you go. I guess it's an indictment of society today. We want to know what happened, but we could care less why it happened.

I am sure tonight there will be plenty of interviews with various passengers. There will be the usual comments about how scary it was, whether it was good/bad to watch it on the television screen (personally I think that's very cool), and how professional and level-headed the crew were.

Maybe I'll watch that M*A*S*H rerun instead.

Groan.

I'm trying to decide whether that was 1) being creative, 2) being starry-eyed, or 3) rambling. Judging by the sweat pooling under the right armpit, I'm guessing 3).

The lesser of two evils

Should I sit in my ergonomically adjusted cubicle and let my fingers freeze, or should I sit in my ergonomically inappropriate lab and feel my fingers?

No, I can't wear gloves and type at the same time.

If I put on a sweatshirt in addition to my jacket, my core will roast by the time I can feel my fingers.

I have opted to regain the feeling in my fingers, but my shoulders are starting to ache already.

3 kinds of drivers.

My view of the world classifies drivers into three categories according to how they find an unfamiliar address.

1. Map drivers. These are the people who do some research and study the maps in advance. They are for the most part rational, logical, and IMHO, sensible.
2. GPS drivers. These are the people who adore their in-car GPS units. They plug in the address and do whatever it says, even if it tells you to drive around in circles. They are for the most part spontaneous and often not very sensible.
3. Random drivers. Their motto is, "You aren't lost until you've run out of gas."

I love light rail.

Note to self:

"Blackened" does not mean "A little charred around the edges". It means "coated with a fiery mix of spices and onion powder that will give you an unslakeable thirst and heartburn three hours later".

It would have been nice if they added the qualifier "spicy" or "piquant" to the menu. The service was slow, too. Not one of my favorite restaurants.

Z's here!

She and Y arrived in her adorable new car. We had tofu stew for dinner last night. It was delicious, but we agreed that it's not the same without J, especially since this particular tofu stew place offers a vegetarian version made with seaweed broth.

I can't ditch work, so we pretty much only have the evenings. Tonight we'll dine at Max's Opera Cafe, assuming our plans don't change. That means we won't have Chinese food on this trip. Oh well. That just gives us another excuse for more travel. Some stories just can't be told properly over the phone or e-mail.

Dear Cricket of Cricket Magazine fame,

I adore you, Ladybug, and the whole gang. You put together a wonderful magazine that encouraged this young scientist to explore a whole world of literature.

Now, you and your ilk appear to be invading my home. Sluggo's relatives are leaving slime everywhere outside. I don't remember if there were any wasps in your gang, but they set up residence in an air vent. Once the Bee Man took care of the wasps, the aunties (ants) moved in. And don't get me started about the spiders.

Please stop. I love you guys, but as pen pals.

Best,
M

An Experiment

Spam spam spam spam glorious spaaaam... The comments will be spammed...

I'll never stop saying it.

I've said it before, I'll say it again, and I'll never stop saying it.

If you're going into the sciences or engineering, learn to write.

If you're not going into the sciences or engineering, learn to do math.

I recently encountered three education PhDs who could not do any simple arithmetic in their heads. The three of them had to use a scientific calculator to do a basic currency conversion (Divide by 8. Approximate when it's not perfect. No, really.). They kept asking me to do the conversions for them. I could have told them anything and they would have believed it.

I fear for the US when even our teachers cannot divide by 8, or even approximate the result, without resorting to a calculator. I don't care if you are on vacation. That's no excuse for leaving your brain behind.

Four things people do to mess up their interviews, regardless of degree obtained.

1. Show too much humility.
If your group's project was successful, and assuming you at least showed up and did what was expected of you, I sure hope whatever you did was important to the project. I'd much rather hear about how important your part was than how you managed to get your socks matched every morning.

2. Show too little humility.
Behind every great leader is a great team. A great leader strives to leverage the strengths of each team member. Talk about this, not about how you managed to squish their hopes and dreams in one short quarter.

3. Be passionate about nothing.
Everybody else in the room has a pulse. I've never met you before, so I don't know what makes yours stand out.

4. Be passionate about one thing and one thing only.
Surely you are a person of many talents. Whatever will you do if we decide to do something else? Burn down the building? (No, wait, Milton did that.)

Why Oh Why

Why, oh why, does the guy with personal space issues sit next to me in meetings? By this I mean he has little respect for my personal space. He's not particularly tall but somehow manages to take up three times the normal amount of space for someone his size, which is double the amount of space taken by someone taller. He's not always the same person, but for some reason, he's been serialized. That is, if he's absent, a different guy (and it's always a guy) with the same issues will sit next to me.

He likes to stretch out his legs. When he crosses them he will invariably kick me in the shin. It doesn't matter if I sit across from or next to him. He will manage to get my shin and no one else's. (For the record, the amount of volume I take up is nearly equal to that of my chair.)

He likes to lean back with his hands folded behind his head. Thank God he wears deodorant because his armpits are at about nose level.

He likes to take up more than one table. This I wouldn't mind so much except he will start on one table, then move over to mine and start crowding out my stuff.

He jiggles his leg and stomps his feet, causing the floor to shake. If he's particularly adept at this, and if the floor is particularly weak, the table will wobble, too.

He suffers from gastrointestinal distress. He will burp and whatnot during the meeting. He will breathe down my neck because whatever I am doing on my laptop is interesting. Unfortunately, he doesn't use breath mints. I really wish he would.

Curse You, Sudoku

For being more addictive than crosswords and Crickler combined.

Part 2.

Harry Potter is like an Asian serial drama. The following paragraphs are blasphemy for the legions of Harry Potter fans out there.

The first book started out intriguing and engaging. The characters were delightful. Serial dramas are the same way.

Book two spent an awful lot of time reminding the reader of what happened in book one. Books three and four picked up the pace a little bit as the characters got older, but weren't half as engaging as the first book. The dramas do the same thing--they drag after a while, the introduce a decent plot twist, but never regain the original momentum.

Book five dragged. It was far too thick for its own good. At this point, the dramas start pulling out the storylines, giving the characters ten-minute crying scenes to fill the time. Book five was better than this, because by now we've been guaranteed a nice plot climax in every book.

Book six was better than book five, but now I feel suckered. You would think with all the time they had to hype the book, and all the money they are charging for the book, they could have fixed the glaring typographical error early on in the book.

They used "site" when they meant "sight". I will update with a page reference if I ever get around to rereading it. I have at least six books on the in progress pile, including the delightful "Under the Loving Care of the Fatherly Leader", by Bradley Martin. The latest Harry Potter was an impulse buy.

At this point in time in the drama, I have the theme song stuck in my head, I adore the actors I viewed with skepticism in the beginning, and I'm a love/hate relationship with the whole thing. I keep going because I want to know how it ends and because I've already invested so much time and effort. I hate myself for having gotten suckered in yet again and yet I'm loving the end of the series.

I feel the same way about Harry Potter. Please, just hurry up and finish it off so I know how it ends. I've invested enough time, effort, and money not to see how it ends.

Incidentally, Lord Voldemort reminds me of Kim Il-sung. You know, the personality cult, the constant need for adulation and praise, and the ability to use his charisma to gain the loyalty of so many of his people.

Part 1.

It turns out that something called Chinese Egg Custard Tarts can actually be too eggy.

2 eggs
5 oz. can of evaporated milk
scant 1/4 cup sugar
1/4 tsp vanilla
Whisk all ingredients together, pour into frozen tart shells, and bake at 375 for 25 minutes. Makes 6 tarts.

Next time: reduce to 1 egg, and let mixture rest overnight to allow the bubbles to settle.

Fruity Lessons

The individual fruit tarts were a big hit. They did taste good, but I suspect a big part of their success was psychology. It's a delight to be able to commandeer your own adorably adorned dessert.

* Strawberries leach color when set on lemon curd. It's the curd's acidity that does it. I'll have to find a solution.
* As predicted, grated dark chocolate makes a lovely foil for the bright lemon curd. It's difficult to grate properly. I'll work on a solution.
* Blueberries are a little too subtle for the lemon curd. They work beautifully with the vanilla custard.
* Some people like the taste of crust, some don't. Fortunately, the vanilla lets the crust shine through, whereas the lemon curd masks it.
* I should have searched for pastry cream recipes instead of vanilla custard. Odds are good this search would have yielded better results.

And here's an untested reconstruction.

A long time ago, I had a fantastic recipe for chocolate truffles. It was fantastic for two reasons: one, it tasted wonderful, and two, it was amazingly simple.

Okay, there is a third reason. It is one of the very few recipes that J, Z, and I agree on. Most things we eat together are too sweet, too meaty, too greasy, or too whatever for one of us. Most of the time, we end up with something that one person doesn't completely rave about for some reason. At least I think we all agreed on it. Actually, I'm not sure if Z ever tried it. No, wait, I'm pretty sure she did.

I lost track of this recipe. It looks like I tossed out any paper copies, and the e-mail accounts that held the electronic versions are long gone. (Give me a break, I hadn't learned proper archival techniques by then.) And I think J and Z lost track of it, too.

I have been looking for a recipe like this one for a while now. I have seen few recipes that resemble it. Most call for things like butter or exotic formation techniques.

So here is what I remember. I know I have the ingredients and (most of the) methodology right, but I don't know about the proportions.

-------------------------------------------------
1 pound best-quality bittersweet chocolate, chopped into bits
1/4 pint heavy cream
2 tbl brandy

Bring the cream and brandy to a boil. Add the chocolate and stir until it's all melted. Transfer to a bowl. Let cool a little bit. Beat with an electric mixer until...I guess until you've whipped in some air, lightened the texture a bit, and it's not as liquid. I remember the recipe admonishing you not to overwhip it. Chill the mixture in the fridge until it's almost set, but still malleable. Form into truffle-sized pieces and chill until firm. Enrobe in ganache or roll in cocoa powder or whatever floats your boat.
-------------------------------------------------

I am confident about the chocolate quantity because the Trader Joe's Pound-Plus bars were almost perfect.

The cream was essentially one of those small containers from the dairy case. Possibly a little less, but you'd add the whole thing to avoid leftovers and to account for the Plus chocolate.

The brandy I'm not sure about. Not that I'd measure this one anyways.

The deconstruction worked, sort of.

The original recipe for lemon curd:
1/2 cup lemon juice
2 tsp lemon zest
1/2 cup sugar
3 eggs
6 tbl butter
Whisk all ingredients over low heat until the first bubbles break. Chill the mixture.

The chewing gum and sticky tape (deconstructed) recipe for vanilla custard (because the tartness of the curd is painful for those people with dental work):
1/2 cup half and half (because I don't normally stock hevy cream)
2 tsp vanilla paste
3/8 cup sugar
3 eggs
2 tbl butter (because I don't want to cut another stick)
Whisk all ingredients over low heat until the first bubbles break. Chill the mixture.

Notes to self:
* Reduce sugar to 1/4 cup or less.
* Reduce vanilla to 1 tsp.
* Possibly increase to 4 eggs or more, depending on whether the intent is a vanilla or an egg tart.
* Possibly increase or eliminate the butter. I can't taste it anyways.

I suppose we could call the vanilla recipe a success, except it is rather sweet and cloying for my taste. It would work well loaded into a prebaked tart shell and garnished with fruit, which was the original intent. As a standalone custard or tart, it's a little much.

希望

There's medication for this, isn't there?

I wish to live a day where I didn't think about consequences. This is not the same as willfully ignoring the consequences of my actions, or participating in activities in which consequences didn't matter. This would be living a day in which I didn't worry about them.

Then I could do something like quit my job in Corporate America and open a coffee shop without wondering whether Starbucks will take the kitty corner. And without worrying about what all that caffeine will do to my health.

Or I could be free to innovate. I would be so bad at forecasting equipment requirements that nobody would call on me to put together a budget when I'm not a manager. I would be so bad at keeping our currently inventory straight, everybody would figure things out without asking me all the time.

I could write real code, because I wouldn't be able to keep reams of data in order.

I wouldn't sound like a wet blanket when we discuss our hopes and dreams.

I could eat out with reckless abandon. I wouldn't worry about how my stomach would feel the next day. Or how thin my wallet would feel.

I would start the day with a sense of culinary wonder, because I wouldn't have already figured out lunch and dinner before the breakfast dishes were all cleaned up.

Laundry day would be any day of the week.

Sigh.

It's jinxed

Highway 101 and I do not get along at all. Weird things happen when I try to drive on it. To be fair, every time I do drive on it, I curse it, its potholes, the weird strip in the right lanes that make my tires buzz, and the endless construction in Mountain View, so maybe I'm sending off negative vibes. The following have happened the last few times I drove on it:

* As we were turning off the highway, a car several cars ahead of me lost a hubcap from its left side. This bounced along the pavement at high speed and sailed just over my car, narrowly missing the windshield. Naturally, instinct took over and I ducked, which would have done no good at all because I was in the car.

* Glop wound up on my windshield at high speed. At first I thought it was bird droppings, but it never solidified. Gross.

* A pickup truck wanted to drive in the left lane. Naturally, he (I'm assuming it's a he) cut across all 4 lanes of traffic with his right blinker on.

* A guy missed his exit. So he pulled over to the shoulder and drove in reverse until he reached it.

This pretty much accounts for the last three times I've taken 101. None of this, I repeat, absolutely none of this, happens on 280.

*shudder *

Random musings in response to part (A) of http://telecate.blogspot.com/2005/06/greetings-and-leavings.html:

There was an episode of "King of the Hill" in which Hank shook hands with one of the George Bushes and found his handshake disappointingly limp.

Don't you hate it when limp handshake person also has cold, clammy hands?

I once shook hands with a guy who was blowing his nose as I entered his office. What would you do in this situation? Because I was being escorted and it was a job interview to boot, I couldn't just go wash up immediately afterwards.

In general, I don't like to shake hands because I have a slight germ phobia. If shaking hands means crossing the room to get to the person, I just do a little wave. I like to think I can get away with it because I'm a girl (albeit less cute as the years march on). I suspect this is a career-limiting move.

Hmm

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/06/23/AR2005062301972.html

In deference to smoking lounges, how about Geek Lounge as an alternate name for TBC?

Thump.

Note to self: when backing up to park, do your best to clear all condensation from the rear window. The wall is a lot closer than you think. I'm so sorry, Herb, but at least you survived with minimal damage.

I have also decided that Dr. Zoidberg is my favorite character. "Robot".

I feel for Leela.

Even though Bender is my favorite character on the show.

We tested out my friend's in-car GPS navigator this weekend in San Francisco. We tried to argue with it, we really did. It turned out that it really was more efficient to take 280 from 101 entering the city. Also, we really were on track to get back onto 101 from the financial district until we got in the wrong lane. Then, we really did have to take 10th to get to 101.

If only they would perfect this for those of us who have no depth perception. Detailed instructions would be really handy for parallel and rear-in parking. "Turn right...a little more...now back straight...little more...now pull forward..."

Shows you how fulfilling my job is right now. I've retaught myself to parallel park in recent weeks, and just today, I have begun perfecting rear-in parking, something I was never taught in the first place.

Wait a minute.

I've set a bad precedent at work. Not only do they think I know stuff, they think I know everything about machine administration. So why would this one guy (who holds a PhD and has used Linux longer than I have) come to me with the following dialogue?

Him: I can't log on to this machine with my user account.
Me: Can you ping the machine?
Him: Yes. And the root password works just fine. It's just my user account.

Duh. You log in as root and reset your password. It doesn't take a PhD to figure that out. They don't pay me nearly enough. Apparently I've gotten so good they've gotten soft.

I'll stop the ego trip now.

Queer Eye for the Cubicle Guy

I think they should do this. I want to see what they would do with the grey walls, dusty monitors, bedroom slippers, holey shirts, and the shirts that never change.

Why can't cars be like cell phones?

I don't know anything about cars, but I like to whine about them anyway. I guess I should really learn more about cars.

For cell phones, you pay a flat price for the phone and you subscribe to a service plan based on the number of minutes you think you will use. You are responsible for charging your own phone and getting insurance for it, if you so desire. The phones have warranties in case the battery explodes or something. When the phone gets really old, say, as much as a whole year old, some people who are still happy will hang on to their old phones, and other people will want to upgrade.

So why won't this work with cars? Couldn't you pay a flat price for the car and sign on to a service plan based on the number of miles you drive each month? The price of the service plan would include regular maintenance. The car company could call you in periodically to have the service done. They could estimate the schedule based on your service plan and check the odometer against the expected usage. You, of course, would be responsible for the occasional recharge (gas).

Of course this is more expensive, in much the same way (but with major differences) land lines cost less than cell phones. But I wonder if there are many people who would rather do this than be surprised when they run out of washer fluid.

What's the wildest thing you've ever eaten?

I think about food all the time, can you tell?

I wonder what makes eating a certain thing a wild and daring endeavor. You could argue it's fear of the unknown and unusual with mysterious consequences. This would make something like chicken feet exciting to you (note it's to you; chicken feet are normal to me). But what makes chicken feet exciting but moldy bread disgusting?

My pal A said the wildest thing he's ever eaten was a durian milkshake. It more or less tasted like a vanilla milkshake but with a strong aftertaste that pretty much only comes from durian. The durian taste and stigma made the drink exciting. It was okay, but probably not something he would order every time.

My pal M (not to be confused with me) said the wildest thing she's ever eaten is Korean-style marinated crab. That's the dish where you take a whole, live (I think) crab, douse it in spicy sauce, and eat it raw. Let's face it; what made this dish exciting was the prospect of eating raw crab. She didn't like it. Apparently the dish was too spicy for her taste and the crab meat was the consistency of jelly, which is a desirable feature of jelly but not crab. However, this dish is intriguing in that, to a casual observer, it is clearly the child of necessity. You can imagine a hungry fisherman in his boat in the middle of the sea, unable to build a fire, with only a jar of sauce remaining in his provisions, surrounded only by his catch and icy grey seawater.

As for me, I consider things like chicken feet, fried pig intestines, and fish intestines in egg to be normal fare. These aren't everyday dishes, mind you, since the pig intestines are definitely high in cholesterol. Oddly enough, the wildest thing I've ever eaten was a salty yogurt drink. My pal K and I once ate at a kebab restaurant and decided to try the bottled yogurt drinks in the refrigerated case. These drinks are basically thinned plain yogurt with a lot of salt. I do mean a lot. Something like 2000+ milligrams per serving. What made this wild was the sensation of drinking something made of ordinary ingredients (albeit ones I don't normally eat a lot of) in a combination I'd never tried before. The drink itself was intensely tangy and salty. I could feel my blood pressure skyrocket after the first sip.

Stereotyping.

Warning: the following contains many sweeping assumptions. Please do not think any less of me because of them. Also, I am referring to restaurants in the United States only.

For as long as I can remember, I have judged the authenticity of an ethnic restaurant by the percentage of patrons of that particular ethnicity. You can call it racism. You can call it ignorance. You can call it stereotyping. I just figure that, assuming there are many options in the area, and assuming a moderate price range, authenticity is a major factor in choosing a restaurant. Do the places I go to serve authentic food? Sure, it may taste good to me, but I've long suspected that I have rather conservative and wimpy tastes.

All of the Chinese restaurants I normally go to are filled with Chinese people. The food is authentic, and I know this because I've had good teachers. I have eaten at P.F. Chang's, and I can safely say that the food there is not authentic. I was also very glad someone else paid for the meal, because I disliked it very much. P.F. Chang's was not filled with Chinese people during my visit.

Nearly every Japanese restaurant I go to is not filled with Japanese people. The exception is Tobie Tyler's. Based on the assumptions made in the first paragraph, I believe that stir-fried seaweed-topped spaghetti, mild curries, yosenabe (sp?), and the occasional platter of sashimi are Japanese comfort foods. I like them all. Caterpillar rolls, although delicious, are not authentic. But I like caterpillar rolls too, so my tastes really run toward corrupted versions of Japanese cuisine.

Every American restaurant I have been to was filled with Americans, because American is not a race. So there. I would like to visit the First Nations restaurant in Vancouver, which I guess makes American a race, but it's referred to as First Nation. It's 1:00 AM so I won't try to resolve this now.

I have never been to an Italian restaurant filled with Italian people. However, I believe this is because these weren't really Italian restaurants, they were truly Italian-American restaurants.

I have never been to a Thai place that had Thai people eating there, but then, I hardly have the pleasure of meeting many Thai people to begin with, so I assume this has more to do with statistics than authenticity. Needless to say, I'm pretty sure I've never had authentic Thai food.

Every Korean and Indian restaurant I have been to had plently of Korean and Indian people, respectively, patronizing the establishment. This is where I think my assumptions begin to break down. I cannot eat very spicy food, and yet I could eat the food at these places. I can't possibly have chosen authentic restaurants every time, right? Didn't these places adapt their cuisine, "dumb down" the spice level if you will, to please my corrupted palate?

And now that you've read this, you must think I'm a horrible bigot.

I watch way too much TV.

What does it mean when I find myself enthralled by "ICC Cricket World"? It's marvelously fast-paced and has dizzying camera shots. I think it's in English, but I barely understand what's going on. It makes me wish they'd show cricket on ESPN2 once in a while, but not at the expense of my beloved sumo wrestlers.

Why I watch cartoons.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/linkset/2005/04/11/LI2005041100587.html/?nav=pq
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/05/03/AR2005050301281.html
Just the tip of the iceberg, from columnists I like to read on a regular basis. And that's just the print media. What's on TV is a totally different story because on those channels, there's no food section to break up the coverage. Just a continuous string of non-stories. I learn more from the ads on Nickelodeon than I do from any of the news networks. The cartoons are laden with messages about sharing and so forth. We get none of that from the news.

So please, please, please make it stop. Give me CNN International.

Sometimes hate isn't a strong enough word.

Neither is love. Brotherly love. Which you're supposed to feel for your siblings, right?

What else can you say about a sibling who's so cheap, to avoid sales tax on his online purchases, he will ship them to your house and expect you to bring them up to him on your next visit?

Who went to the trouble to have his own birthday gift delivered here, but couldn't spare the effort to call or write a quick e-mail to say it was on its way? Who instead told Mom to tell you it was on its way?

Who, when you called to say that the gift had arrived, wouldn't even come to the phone, and instead made Dad take the phone? Because he was upset I didn't work from home all week to take the package from the UPS guy in person, instead of letting the UPS guy leave it at the back door?

Who is so cheap, to avoid both sales tax and shipping charges on his Christmas/b-day gift to you, shipped it to your place, but had to include a DVD for himself because his actual gift to you didn't cost more than $25? And incidentally, couldn't spare an e-mail or a phone call then, not even to tell me to expect to see an extra in the package.

Who, when sending your gift in this manner, couldn't figure out the "gift send" feature that obscures the cost of the items being sent, so it's not so blatantly obvious that the DVD was nearly half of the total?

Who doesn't respond to your e-mails asking him what he wants for Christmas or his birthday?

Who merely acts polite when you call him to wish him a Happy Birthday?

Am I being selfish? Is it really all about me?

Of course it is.

On the other hand, isn't it great to be loved?

What a fantastic term: yak-shaving. Will expand and comment later. In the meantime, the link captures it quite nicely.

Yak-shaving yak-shaving yak-shaving. Yep, it's a winner.

Kids these days.

Yesterday I was on a mission to look for J's beloved apple-cinnamon Pop-Tarts along with my usual groceries. Reading about her inability to find them piqued my interest, especially since her birthday is coming up. I figured this would make a great birthday gift: it is exactly what she wants, and would be easy to ship, especially if I manage to snag a case of these things. Add a brown paper wrapper and the address and it's all ready to go!

The only problem is they don't sell that particular flavor here, either. They seem to be phasing out the non-fruit varieties and anything that isn't frosted. Seriously, though, how can you tell the difference between "french toast", "brown sugar", and "s'mores" anyways? They are all brown. If we lived in Canada, I am sure there would be a "maple" flavor, too.

Now I am going to say some things that will make me sound very old, because I guess I am.

My first encounter with Pop-Tarts was in grade school because previously, all food was eaten with the family at home or in a restaurant. Pop-Tarts were forbidden because they were (are) clearly made of unidentifiable ingredients. They were a strange food because we had no idea what they were. Breakast? Snack? Dessert? The kids at school would pack them in their lunches, in much the same way I would pack a cookie to go along with my sandwich and fruit.

I remember reading the label at the supermarket once, back when fruity flavors dominated the lineup, and seeing it claimed to provide one exchange of fruit. If you're eating a fruity flavor, this makes sense. There is some fruit inside, even if it is dyed and sugared and the consistency of paste. A little bit like eating jam straight out of the jar.

The brown flavors can make no such claim, as far as I can tell. I first sampled Pop-Tarts several years later, when we somehow got a free sample of the new "s'mores" flavor. The verdict? Maybe you're supposed to toast them first instead of eating them cold. I got the incredible sensation of eating tooth-achingly sweet cardboard. If I were stranded on a desert island with no other supplies but a case of those, I'd use them as bait for fish.

That said, they would have been ridiculously easy to ship to J for her birthday. But since I couldn't find them, I think her best bet is to buy them in Canada: http://www.kelloggs.ca/cgi-bin/klog-canada/product.pl?product=486&company=2.

While you're up there, J, perhaps you could pick up some Allegra for me.

不行。

I think I am coming down with a cold or the flu. Whatever it is that's going around. I have a new idea. I now believe if you are sick, you should come to work, and if you are not ill, you should stay at home.

麻烦。

Multiple near-identical machines. Which one does everyone want? That's right, the one I'm using.

Agony and the Pursuit of Truth

I have 40 minutes on Tuesday to present my progress over the last quarter. I have spent the last three days working on the slides. The trouble is, there hasn't been much progress. I have spent the quarter validating things. Slowly.

I have come to the conclusion that I am inept. These and past slides have been agonizing precisely because I have to figure out a convincing argument for something that isn't so convincing. At least, it is not convincing to me because I never seem to have enough data. My schedule always indicates that all the data will come after the presentation, which is why I am inept.

Oh sure, people try to reassure me and tell me I actually do have enough data and the argument is a wonderful one. They tell me the presentation went well and I looked like a pro up there.

Just once I would like to give a presentation where I was armed with a ton of data and prepared to chat for hours if the schedule didn't limit me to 40 minutes.

Times like these make me very glad I abandoned all hope of becoming a journalist. Digging for juicy bits on the international political scene sounded wonderful until I realized that I can't write. I certainly can't write on a deadline, which is what journalism is all about.

On the other hand, the inability to write makes for much better slides.

What I would do with a watch that stops time.

Bart Simpson used his to play pranks on the good people of Springfield. Other characters would use it to do good.

Me? I'd catch up on my sleep.

You're a bright guy and that's a stupid question.

My favorite quote from "The West Wing". One of these days I am going to slip up and actually say it to somebody.

I guess I'm not brilliant enough.

I drove 101 up to San Francisco on Sunday. In Palo Alto, a driver in a small older car missed his or her exit and was reversing up the shoulder to get back to it.

I never would have thought to do this in a million years.

I missed my Palo Alto exit too--I was going to meet somebody for lunch on the way up. I got off at the next exit and took the freeway back to the correct exit. I thought about driving all the way to San Francisco and giving a lame excuse for missing lunch. That is the extent of my creativity.

Maybe it's looking a gift horse in the mouth.

I appreciate the effort that went into my plaques. They cost a fair bit of money (plaques do not normally come cheap). The award is much appreciated, especially given that they probably strained the department budget. But there's a but.

Is it too much to ask that all plaques come with appropriate mounting or display hardware? This particular one, the nicest one I have and my personal favorite, has nearly killed me at least twice. It has grooves where the mounting hardware probably goes, but no hardware. I improvised with pushpins. Obviously this isn't working out.

Maybe I really am turning right.

Lately I've been pushing forward on various projects despite their slow and frustrating pace. I have also had to justify these to people who apparently refuse to see my point of view. I have to justify, rejustify, and explain. It all makes perfect sense but I am feeling opposition. I know I'm right and I am pushing for a balanced view of things. But I feel like I'm the only one looking for the alternative route, the way out. So why are so many people treating me like I'm wrong?

Help me.

I think I'm starting to swing right. What should I do?

Maybe I just feel guilty.

I spontanteously read the ladies room door in pinyin (romanization of Mandarin Chinese) instead of English. I didn't mean to. It's just that it looked very weird for a minute there, having the restroom suddenly open to all of us.

1. Do I feel guilty for not studying my lessons diligently?
2. Am I going insane?

And now for the problem.

There don't seem to be any recipes out there for a basic, simple, foolproof lasagne that is liked by many, freezes well, that the beginner chef can get right on the first try, and don't require a lot of expensive ingredients. Fennel is fantastic stuff, but I'll save that for the next batch.

Perhaps lasagna is such a simple and universal dish that I should just be able to assemble it based on intuition and past experiences with restaurant food.

How difficult can it be?

I have an idea and a problem.

I'll split this into two posts. First, the idea.

Washington state ought to decide its governor with a winner-takes-all showdown. There would be three events: an apple-bobbing contest, an egg-rolling contest, and a sack race. The next governor is the winner of two of the three contests.

The apple-bobbing contest is a nice tribute to one of the state's famous agricultural products. May the candidate with the bigger mouth win. In the interest of fairness, I should be the one to pick the apples and setup the washtub. Why me? Because I have no vested interest in either candidate. I am quite sure I could dislike both candidates equally.

The eggs in the egg rolling contest would be grade AA extra-large. The spoons would be stainless steel, right out of my drawer.

The sack race would pair each candidate with their deputy.

Many will argue this is a juvenile idea but probably won't offer to explain how this is any less juvenile than what's happening now. At least my idea is faster and cheaper.

I wished for rain.

I got ants.

If I wish for snow, will I get locusts?