Randomness

Thought I would share some of the random things I post on my Facebook page here on the blog. First off, I saw this really cool storefront in University Heights (San Diego, CA area) the other day and snapped a pic as I was sitting at the light.

I'm sure I've mentioned it, but for our new friends: Dragonfly has been my totem and unofficial second name since I first signed up for an AOL account with a free CD and a 28.8K modem in 1998. I am even called "Dragonfly" by some (which means many people give me dragonfly things as gifts so I have them on everything from coasters to jewelry to wind chimes). This kind of connection with a skeeter-eating bug makes you notice anything with the word plastered above the door. I finally remembered to search Google to find out what they sell, and it turns out they're just a hair salon. Pffftt! Disappointed! Hair salons are a dime a dozen and I don't think I've had my hair cut professionally for over a year so I really don't have much use for them. I like the colors and clip art logo, but I was hoping they sold something awesome like vintage items or metaphysical doodads. Oh well.

I tried to "check in" on Facebook from my iPhone the other day at home and had a nice little surprise - apparently Facebook has found my mostly-non-existant Reiki practice (Share The Way) and added it to their lists as a local business! I can't even imagine what database they would've retrieved that info from as the domain name is the only thing I've ever registered and I don't advertise at all. Yet there it was...

Now I just have to find out how I got there so I can be sure Scarlet Quill is also listed. Scarlet Quill is the website I'm building so I can sell my proofreading and editing services (scarletquill.com). And since I dog/house sit as well, don't think I'm not totally going to contact whomever owns Earth's Paw Mobile Pet Grooming and find out if they'll exchange referrals with me. I think I'm getting the hang of this networking thing. What a way to find local services. LOL

Last, I found out what the face of EVIL looks like. It's THIS:

I really do eat healthy most of the time, but I'm no saint when it comes to sweets. These things pry open your mouth, force themselves down your throat, laugh at the digestive acids in your stomach, then tear through your guts. And I LOVE THEM.

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle, REFUSE

Dianna Cohen of the Plastic Pollution Coalition gives a 5 minute TED talk about plastics if you play the video above. Most info is already mainstream news, but the thing that stuck out to me was her suggestion of adding the fourth R to "Reduce, Reuse, Recycle"... it is REFUSE. I've refused hundreds of plastic bags (probably more like thousands with the way I shop) - not just at the grocery store, but at retail stores as well. I literally cringe when I see cashiers put one item in a bag, or even worse - double bag something! AGGHH!! I carry a Chicos Bag in my purse for those times when I forget to grab my canvas bags from under the front seat of the Jeep.

Do you think Swedish engineer, Sten Gustaf Thulin, knew what kind of evil he was creating when he came up with the white harbingers of oceanic death? (Seriously, as if Ikea isn't enough of a waste of resources. Isn't Sweden supposed to be known for its environmental consciousness and stuff? WTH?) Mobil, the most evil gas company I've ever read about, is responsible for making plastic bags a viable commodity in 1977 by overturning a patent, then the Dixie Bag Company from Georgia, along with Safeway and Kroger (et tu Vons?!) helped make "Paper or Plastic?" the most widely used phrase in America by the mid-80s. Oh yes, all this polyethylene destruction of our planet has only been since 1982. That's only TWENTY-EIGHT YEARS people. Do the math.

Anyway... I also rarely buy anything in a single use plastic bottle. I've eliminated almost all plastic from my kitchen (I LOVE those Pyrex glass storage containers with the rubber lids!), and often choose grocery items in glass containers over plastic. (Then I save the glass container for something else too!)

Some of my friends think I'm silly for making all these tiny, detail-oriented efforts to reduce my carbon footprint, but what is the price of self-respect? One person recycling may be like a drop in the ocean, but if we spread the word, pretty soon drops turn into a bucket, then a pond, then a lake... you get the idea.

Make a concept "cool" enough and it will become commonplace across the globe. How else has Starbucks built a billion-dollar business selling a ten-cent cup of coffee? Speaking of Starbucks... their current marketing campaign goes, "Take comfort in rituals." I agree! Recycling and thinking about what you're consuming is a ritual. It gives me comfort to know that even if my efforts alone don't make a big difference, I can lead by example. There's no reason I should NOT do it. Same for you.

Lots of people whine about canvas bags at the stores being inconvenient. Nothing is inconvenient if you have the right tools. Buy some reusable shopping bags and keep them in the car. (Check out street fairs and craft shows in your area to get unique cool ones AND support your local artists!) As I said, the Chico Bags are my favorite because they squish down into a very small bag of their own and are easy to carry in very little space. (All the natural foods markets seem to sell them too.) Buy a reusable water bottle (I mean c'mon - they sell them everywhere! I've even seen them at the dollar stores!) and keep it filled in your cup holder. It's better for your body to drink more water anyway! Think about the products you buy at the grocery store - is the same thing available from a company that uses glass or other materials for their packaging?

Be a muse. Reduce, Reuse, Recycle, REFUSE.

Victorias Secret FAIL

A few months ago I went on a mission to replace some seriously aging bras. I must've spent at least $200 on enough plain, daily-wear, no-lace-involved unmentionables to last a little more than a week without having to do laundry.

Victoria's Secret has been a good brand in the past. I have some items that have been in service for over five years. Altho I rarely buy anything that's not on sale there, it is generally expensive enough - even with a discount - to make one expect a higher quality than something you would get at say... Walmart. If the adage "you get what you pay for" is true, then I purchased lingerie that should last AT LEAST a year or two, hopefully much more since I am not particularly hard on my clothes.

Here's the big but(t) in this story...

These only-a-couple-months-old bras are actually made with an element of evil. I'm convinced somewhere along the factory line, my unassuming underwear were sent into a dark cavernous space, where they were shown a film instructing them how to unravel and tangle, stretch and deteriorate, and generally collaborate with the machine to wreak havoc on the psyche of the owner. Much like certain members of the GOP.

Every one of my "new" garments have had the underwires at least poke through the lining, if not entirely remove themselves from their sewn compartments during cleaning. In addition, the straps wrap themselves around each other in such a decadent fabric grind they could make the Playboy channel blush. They emerge from the washer wound up so tight even a sailor would be left scratching his head over the knots. Of course this watery dance stretches said straps to their limits, effectively making me shorten them more each time I wear them lest they fall all over my shoulders in their exhaustion. Further, ANY other type of material that may be in the gentle cycle with them causes the fabric to pill and the elastic to unravel at the edges, making them look more like Goodwill material than anything from an "upscale" establishment.

This is not a matter of overuse and too-frequent cleaning due to lack of volume. I'll bet I could actually go three weeks without doing laundry and still be wearing fresh booby gear every day, altho in that case they would not always match my outfit, which is one of my charming idiosyncrasies. My point is, these newcomers are not the only bras I have, nor are they the only ones I wear, so on average I'd say each one gets to surf the suds maybe once every two weeks. They enjoy a very posh life for lingerie - I'll bet the JC Penney bras would kill to be in their drawers.

If you Google "Victoria's Secret complaints" you will find I am not the only unsatisfied customer with these issues. The company's response has been that every bra's tag says "Hand Wash Only" and women do not heed this warning, so the company is resolving themselves of all responsibility. Please. This is the biggest political cop out I've ever heard. First of all, I've been buying VS products for years and never have I hand-washed any of them. The ones I have from five years ago still look new. The new ones look five years old already. Only in the last six months have I had an issue with them falling apart and tangling up, which tells me they probably changed their manufacturer to an under-18 sweatshop in a third world country. Secondly, we do not live in 1950. What modern woman with access to a washing machine actually chooses to dunk her drawers in the sink? If you are doing this, you have too much time on your hands and I will gladly provide you with a kitchen to clean right after you bake me an apple pie. You think those pouty peddling Brazilian brats have dishpan hands from cleaning the lacy scraps of cloth they model? Give me a freakin' break.

I've considered gathering up the offensive garments and taking them back from whence they came; my receipt is dated June 9. I haven't decided yet whether it's worth dealing with a snooty, black-clad 20-something trailing Dream Angels vapor that thinks she has authority along with that key to the register.

Caveat Emptor I suppose. Vicky's new secret is that she ain't what she used to be.

~*~

In other news... it occurred to me that when you are little they tell you if you are lost to stop running around and stay in one place until someone finds you. That does not work the same way with a job hunt.

Ignite San Diego

I came across this idea today through a former colleague on LinkedIn. Amazing what kind of info comes out of the nooks and crannies of the Net. Anyway, check it out...

http://ignite.oreilly.com/

What a cool idea! You get five minutes on stage in front of a crowd to cover practically any topic you want, you get a slide presentation (probably made by you I imagine) that changes every 15 seconds whether you like it or not, so you have to time your talk accordingly. It's like Toastmasters for Generation Y.

You'd think five minutes isn't a long time, but once you're in front of a crowd with pressure to talk about something for that long, trust me, it's a LOOOONNNG time. Unless you're one of those people that LOVES attention and can't shut up, then perhaps it would be not enough time. Either way tho, what an interesting way to spread information! Especially because you get 20 pictures (correct me if I'm wrong because we all know I suck at math) and if pictures are worth a thousand words, then no matter how fast you talk, you just got an extra 20,000 words in!

We Should All Have Careware

Today I reformatted the Mac (finally!) and upgraded my operating system to Leopard v10.5. (I CANNOT believe this has been sitting on my desk unopened since March - WHAT was I thinking?!). In the past, there has always been something missing at the end of the day - kind of like when you move, there is invariably one item that falls down the Black Hole of Residence Change forever (I suspect the dryer and socks are involved). So far, so good tho - nothing has been irretrievable, which is awesome. Having a 1.5TB drive to copy my entire previous configuration to most likely helped. Back in the days when 200mHz was "lightning speed" and entire backups fit on a CD, who woulda thunk in a few short years we'd need terabytes to assure ourselves a pain-free transition? But I digress...

As most old school geeks know, when you reformat like Mother Nature doing spring cleaning (take it down to the sectors and start over) it is required that you reinstall each application from scratch. Oh sure, there are tons of programs out there making a living by replicating your information and offering the ability to reinstate such an impeccable copy of what you had that you end up with the same pile of poo on your "new" drive, including all the flaws you think you have safely disposed of. No thanks. I'll do my own legwork to make sure the stinky stuff ends up in the dump.

Being as OCD as I am (thanks Mark!), I feel the Complete Corporate Reorganization is the only way I can be confident that no malware has transferred itself to my freshly scrubbed platters (Macs RARELY have trouble with viruses but spyware is still a problem). The good part about performing this task properly is sometimes you find upgrades that greatly improve performance, or in the case prompting this blog post, you find an awesome alternative to what you were using. Happy day!

My experience in particular was with an HTML editor. When I originally found Taco it was a freeware program (or at least I'm pretty sure it was since it worked fine but I can't locate a license in my paperwork or email). Apparently they've gone feral (read: commercial) since then, and I was not willing to cough up $25 to reinstall it. Not only is it a very thin program with few useful features, I don't like paying for something I don't need that often anymore.

I have Dreamweaver, but it's like my kitchen - it's only there because it came with the house (i.e., Adobe CS4). Using Dreamweaver is like putting a Corvette engine in a gocart - WAY complicated and WAY too much when really all you need is a mountain bike. Sometimes more is NOT better. Not to mention you might as well have a nap while waiting for it to launch (read: takes more than 5 seconds to open... slothly in our present nanosecond world. Hmm... I may have just offended sloths around the globe).

Wistfully, my brain turned to memories of programs past. Hot Dog was the app I learned to code on (I think version 3 was my jumping-in point). It was the number one editor used by webmasters (at least the ones I knew at the time) until the guys at Sausage Software got too lazy and rich (I'm assuming) to make proper updates. I hung in there way after everyone else moved on to greater programming, but ultimately had to bail when Hot Dog Pro 7 (which is still the version they're touting almost a decade later!) would no longer work properly with Windows XP. (Yes, I know... it's awful, isn't it? I was once forced to endure "that other OS." ::shudder:: I'm still recovering.)

In Hot Dog's dying days there was Home Site, which was a blatant rip off, but at least it worked with Windows XcrementProgram (funny how Vista makes XP look like something brilliant... you poor, poor PC people). Unfortunately Home Site got swallowed up by Macromedia, which got eaten by Adobe and subsequently smashed into Dreamweaver, never to be its own entity again. Ah, corporate merger. Thou dost suck.

I was thinking how beautiful it would be if some knight in shining Perl armor had decided to resurrect either program, having the same frustrations I do (or perhaps a lot of time on his hands). I tried searching Google for keywords such as "just like Hot Dog" or "looks like Home Site" but the results were not what I was looking for.

Defeated, I dragged myself over to versiontracker.com to find a different free HTML editor and, hearing a chorus of angels, I found Arachnophilia. To my great joy, the screen shots looked remarkably similar to my departed favorites, and it was FREE. Oh wait - not really free. It was labeled "Careware." Say what?

I've heard of freeware (all free, all the time), and shareware (the abused marketing term for "try before you buy"), but I'd never heard of Careware. I figured it must work on the PayPal donation principle like ClamX (a fantastic bit of anti-virus for Macs, and yes, I have donated twice!). However, I learned Careware is even better. As I read the developer's description, I found myself nodding emphatically in agreement to every word. Here was the Sir Lancelot of Binary.

Careware is as old school as it gets - "they just don't build 'em like that anymore." Which is a grand shame. The basic principle of Careware as described by Paul Lutus, is NO WHINING. Lutus puts it succinctly thus:

...the basic premise of CareWare (people should stop whining) is so idealistic and out-of-date now that I will eventually have to remove all references to CareWare from my programs. Telling modern Internet users to stop whining is like telling them to stop breathing — it seems unrealistic and inhumane.

Too true. We are so blessed with this thing we call The Internet. The amount of collective knowledge at our fingertips is incredible and humbling. I have yet to ask a question that Google can't provide 10,000,000 responses for, from physics to music to OMG-How-Do-I-Get-Every Picture-I've-Taken-In-The-Last-Eight-Years-Back-Because-Yes-I-Just-Wiped-Out-The-Entire-Folder. The limits are as vast as our global population.

The sad part rests in the frivolous, foolish, narcissistic, or just plain ignorant stuff being posted in spades. Yeah, yeah, even I participate in frivolous and narcissistic once in awhile because it is part of blogging; however, I gladly risk sounding like my grandparents when I say, "I weep for the next generation." They make it challenging to find the intelligent, witty, spiritual, or just plain funny bright spots in cyberspace, but they're worth their weight in Planck time.

Anyway, my original point was that I am grateful and thrilled to have found Arachnophilia for my occasional HTML editing, and it looks like I've also located a substitute for MSMoney in the same site - PLCash (thank goodness because I've been depending on the bank to tell me my balance since I acquired the MacBook two years ago). The "No Whining" financing will be a cinch to pay forward as I have stock in that already.

You should absolutely take a look at everything Arachnoid has to offer; there are so many useful tools and well-written articles there I might never get to sleep tonight! What a treasure!

I Miss Fred

I was in World Market the other day (Pier 1's primary competition) perusing the candy options. They always have unique, interesting choices (Hershey's and Mars wouldn't dare show their cheap chocolatey mugs in that aisle), altho I often wonder if the sweets are REALLY from other countries or just packaged to make us dumb Americans pay an inflated price for something we perceive as "special" because it's got Japanese writing on it (so you better hope the picture is accurate - too bad "lick-n-taste" is not a viable sibling to "scratch-n-sniff").

The black liquorice (not licorice) from Australia looked good so I bought some. How could I resist a package that begs me to "Give it a BURL!" which is the Aussie way of saying "give it a try" - conveniently explained right there on the package... Hmmm. They have to explain their own colloquialisms in Oz? Burl rhymes with hurl too... hope those verbs aren't related in this case.

Australians apparently do know something about liquorice because this stuff did NOT suck. It did, however, get me wondering how they make the squishy, thick, black tubes of tangy tongue tantalizers, which in turn reminded me of... Mr. Rogers.

Yes, Fred Rogers; the sweater-wearing, sneaker-changing icon of my youth. (Hey, maybe I can blame him for my perfectly aligned closet of hoodies in all colors of the rainbow, coupled with the matching Converse anally lined up underneath! Not that I'm OCD or anything.)

Once in awhile his show would have a "trip through the toothbrush factory" or some such video that showed the secret life of everyday items before they come to live in our reality. I would sit in rapt attention learning about processes most people don't consider even once in their lifetime. I don't know why this fascinates me so much, but it does. I mean seriously - when you think about vacation, I'll bet the first thing you do is turn to your significant other and say, "Hey! I know! Let's find out how to tour a giant candy factory and watch underpaid, overworked union employees grumble about wages, break health codes, and attempt to keep all 10 fingers intact!" No? You don't do that? Oh, ok. Maybe you didn't watch Mr. Rogers as much as I did.

Fortunately, today we have the awesomeness of the Internet so you can find practically any information you want in an instant. Except how they make real liquorice. Perhaps the Universe is waiting for me to fill that void. I did, however, find a video on how they make the red twirly "licorice" (that's actually carefully-disguised sugar), and... (wait for it John...)

wait for it...

GUMMY BEARS!

Ok, actually gummy worms, but close enough. Bears get an honorable mention somewhere in there. If you have just under five minutes, you too can cross off your bucket list a visit to the candy factory to find out how "jelly candy" is made simply by watching the following video. Yet another example of how media has replaced real life, but nevertheless kinda interesting. :)

If you thought that one was cool, once the video ends it gives you little thumbnails at the bottom of the screen to show the other videos they offer. Holding the mouse over the thumbnail will tell you what the video is. Click to play it. They have everything from peanut butter to condoms... think Fred would've run the condom video on his show? I wonder if he had an array of those to match his sweaters?

Yeah, yeah, I know... this is why I can't remember the important stuff like appointments and what I did yesterday. My brain is wired for useless trivia and silly questions. What can I say?

I Could Totally Host An HGTV Show

I know I've been out of commission for almost a month, but deal with it. It's not that I haven't had any blog-worthy thoughts or stories, in fact, there have been tons; I just haven't made the time to write them down (shame, that). I am blessed with a full life.

Earlier this weekend my friend John and I found ourselves in Ikea looking for a ceiling fan for his living room. We recently refurnished the entire downstairs of his house using craigslist.com, moving his style forward from Early Fuck into something that will buy him some time to slap a ring on a woman's finger before she runs screaming to Pottery Barn. Although I'm good at putting together modern pieces from discount places, there are usually a couple things you just have to spring for to get the right effect in the time frame you want. Even so, "springing" doesn't mean you should ever pay suggested retail. (Please!) It may, however, require lowering yourself to shop in places that increase your karmic debt.

Trust me, Ikea hurts my soul almost as much as Walmart, but occasionally entering the labyrinth is a pain worthy of bearing in the interest of A Good Deal. Don't get me wrong; the original intent of the Swedish company is great: making the most out of limited resources/space/child labor in China. It's our overblown waddling American lifestyle that sodomized the Ikea concept until their giant blue box stores became the monolithic icon of rampant consumerism. But I digress.

Since wandering around with open, outstretched hands waiting for the fans to fall into them didn't work (much like my writing career), we asked a yellow-n-blue-clad stoner Totally Chill Shopping Assistant where their most stylish whirly-gigs might be. He tells us Ikea does not carry ceiling fans. Fan-tastic.

We turn to beat a hasty retreat, but like tourists navigating Manhattan, we realize we have no idea where we are, much less which direction the exit is. And the screeching children running amuck have long since eaten our trail of breadcrumbs.

Have you ever tried to escape Ikea? I think even the Marines would have a hard time finding their way out.

Both of us being humans of above-average intelligence (which ain't sayin' much these days), we follow the signs that say "exit" until we realize there are at least 100 of them and they are all pointing at each other. So much for logical deduction. Instead we make like cattle and follow the herd for about five miles until I'm distracted by kitchen accessories. This is Ikea's evil business plan. They force you (read: women) to walk past every single item they sell, hoping something will trigger the Impulse Buy Button in your head (generally, the male chromosomes lack this mechanism). If it's not bedding or furniture or artwork/plants/useless shelf items that strike your fancy, they'll throw some kitchen stuff in your face as a last resort. No one gets out without paying a toll. Hmm. Maybe Ikea originated in New Jersey, not Sweden.

Amidst the culinary paraphernalia, my eyes zero in on a 1/2 mile wide display of small bowls (probably rice bowls) that are the perfect size for John's nightly dose of ice cream. Did I mention John will keel over and die without this evening ritual? In fact, one night I threw out the melted, watery remains of a sundae because I assumed he was done, and he had such a reaction I thought one of us might end up in the ER. GAH. Did I also mention that my house has no appropriate sized bowls for this sacrament to the frozen snack Gods? (There is no such problem at his house of course. That would be like the Vatican running short on common sense... I mean alter boys... I mean wine glasses.) My cereal bowls are too big and my Pyrex petri dishes are too small. We can't have that. Ikea has won. They flipped my switch. (No, I have never been officially diagnosed with OCD.)

I trip and fall right into the brand marketing assuming the bowls are cheap, so yes, thank you, I'll take four. I justify my potential purchase by pointing out it's possible picking them up with intent to buy will open a space portal directly to the cash registers, shortly followed by the exit. Unfortunately that turns out not to be true. After several moments of debate during which the bland oatmeal color (like the white ones at his house are more interesting?) and lack of identifiable pricing is discussed, we put them back since there was no escape hatch offered with the purchase, and he is immune to The Ikea Brainwashing Technique.

Being the more daring of the duo, he takes a sharp left and whips us through one of the ominous grey doors that surely will set off fire alarms and sprinklers if opened, alerting police and causing mass panic in which we will be trampled by millions of zombie shoppers in their craze to get away from they-don't-know-what-but-it-must-be-bad-if-the-alarm- is-going-off... but hey! Whaddya know? It's a free pass to the exit! Do not pass go, do not spend $200! Go John! I knew I kept him around for a reason.

So we're out and on our merry way, but the seed of having those bowls has already been planted. (Wait, didn't we go in there for something else?) They are cute and convenient and The Brain has already rationalized their existence in my life. This usually means they will end up in my cabinet one way or another.

Today I was at the dollar store checking to see if anything on my grocery list was available there. Dollar stores are widespread here in SoCal and thank God for that. The Universe loves balance so perhaps this is Its way of trying to offset the ridiculous cost of living in Paradise. Of course, this benefit is only available to those who can transcend the belief that Whole Foods is the only grocery store worthy of your presence (it took HOURS of meditation I tell you), and that fluency in Spanish is not really required to shop there (they employ one stoner Totally Chill Manager in each store for translation purposes if you really need him).

Anyway, as I was picking up some pasta and Toasted wheat crackers (ok fine, and a can of the cappuccino flavored cream wafers that look like straws, which I feel sick from because it's so hard to stop eating them), it occurred to me that they may have something similar enough to the Ikea bowls to appease my need to have a perfectly sized dish for every occasion. A quick scan of the assorted "china" (I use that term loosely) revealed some very similar bowls indeed. Same bland oatmeal color, and wow - they're about the same size and shape. I grab four ($4! Beat that Ikea!) and head home.

I sink my new bowls into soapy water to loosen the stickers. As I peel back the first one from the bottom of the vessel, I see a familiar name stamped above all the fine print.

You got it.

Ikea.