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Tight as a drum

Oh how on earth could I ever hope to penetrate this insurmountable fortress of a room and gain its delicious secrets?

Yummy paint fumes
Over the last couple of weeks I've been slowly cleaning my office. As with all things in my life, "cleaning" is a process where before things can bet better, then need to get much, much worse. Sometime around Wednesday the mess reached something of a crescendo:
But I finally got it all cleaned up, bought some new desks, threw away a ton of shit, and even painted. I'm inhaling the fresh paint fumes even as I type this. (As you can see, I'm through my Orange phase. Now red is the new orange.)

All it needs now is something to hang on the walls...

Check it out:

I've locked my blog entries to 600 pixels wide, so that they lay out better. If this is too wide for you, and/or if you liked the flow layout more, let me know.

No child storage
As part of my room cleaning project, I had to buy a bunch of plastic crates from Target to organize my dunes of crap. And although it may seem like a good idea, apparently they really don't want you to store your toddlers in crates.

The Digital Age is upon us
For a long time I was conflicted about posting this because I didn't want to offend a friend of mine who works in this industry (you know who you are), but I really want to throw this thing away, so I'm going to blog it just for the sake of closure.

You may not be aware of this: Because of advances in digital printing, companies can now send out direct-mail marketing materials (that's pronounced "junk mail") that are tailored to you, for about the same price as they could have printed a generic flyer:
This is the first one of these that I have ever seen, so I'm afraid I can't help but have my impressions of the technology shaped by this one example. A few things jump out at me:
  • It's very high quality: The paper is heavy and glossy, like a photo print. The colors are rich and the design on the back is professional.

  • It's sophisticated: A personalized name and address appear in 4 places in the design, on both sides, including my street name, scaled and skewed to fit nicely into the centerpiece of the campaign on the front.

  • It's wrong: Personalized though it may be, it was sent to someone that hasn't lived at this address for 2 years. I just have to laugh, because the paper alone had to be somewhat expensive... and yet, it goes instantly into the trash as soon as it touches my property.
If the mailer was REALLY personalized, then I wouldn't have gotten it at all because Earthlink would have been able to tell that I already have DSL, I don't use land-lines, and that I need a fixed IP address anyway and wouldn't be elligible for their crappy service in the first place.

Sigh. Maybe my friend who works in this industry can help make it better for all of us.
Ah, the crazy times
While cleaning my room today, I found this ancient CompactFlash card, which contained these images. Some context:

You may remember that I sort of went through this phase where I spent no money, did nothing, and never left my 10 foot square room, outside of which was the apartment I rented with this Russian girl that I didn't know from Adam. The phase lasted for about 6 months, and during that time I, well, went a little bit insane.

What you may not know is exactly what I did during that time. Well, besides the obvious, I watched Sopranos and QAF episodes off Kazaa, and played a lot of Gran Turismo 2 on my $25 PlayStation I. I beat the game, INCLUDING all golds on all license tests. If you've ever played the game, you know how freakish and OCD and generally not psychologically balanced that is.

Evidently, at one point in my cheapness-crazed existance in that tiny room I got such a good score on one of the hour-long endurance races that I felt it necessary to document my accomplishments.

Does anyone know if a 1:17:575 at Apricot Hill in an S2000 is even a good time? Who knows what I was thinking...
4 out of 5 ain't bad

Unless you're talking about my fucking lug nuts. A certain tire shop, who shall remain nameless unless they fail to pay to repair this, cross-threaded one of my lug nuts. So when I went to reinstall my much-loved-by-me-but-hated-by-everyone-else coilovers, my lug stud sheared off. Fantastic.

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