I (Pronoun) Robot
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
I think I'm in a slump. I keep starting posts and I end up throwing them away. The worst part is that I can't post any story where I use the word "I" in the subject or predicate more than 5 time in the first 3 sentences... Oh. No... I guess this one is going to end up on the draft heap too.
I have not used the word predicate in probably 8 years or so. I don't even know if "I" can be a part of the predicate of a sentence unless you're from Kentucky. Antecedent is a word that I haven't used in a long time either. There are a lot of words that I forget about concerning the formation of an English sentence. That seems like about 12 years of classes I didn't really need. Thank God I tested out of that wretched class for college. Engineers can test out of English pretty easy, but all English majors (and everyone else) have to take math classes. The engineers laugh their way through math classes while the English majors struggle with them. However, the English major would be the first to point out that English and Engineer both start with the same 3 letters.
Tonight I received an email stating that my Spanish III class would be starting in two weeks. It's on Monday and Wednesday at 6:00 PM. I didn't remember signing up for a Spanish class nor did I think that listening to 12 out of 30 lessons on CD would be enough to bump me up into 3rd year level. They must have been listening to me in my truck while I'm speak-n-learning the lessons. That concerns me because they probably hear when I sing with the radio. I better get a cut of the royalties if they release a secret recording CD set. I don't even know who the antecedent to "they" is.
Well I don't think I'm going to go. I told the person who sent the email about my Spanish class that I wouldn't be able to make two flights a week, half way across the country out to Seattle, where the class was being held, because it would be right after work and my boss wouldn't let me drive the company vehicle. I'd have to leave work 2 days early every week. It is $35 to cancel this class that I didn't sign up for. Oh, I mean, for which I didn't sign up.
I hope they don't send bloodhounds after me to get the cancellation fee. I won't pay it. I bet they can make bloodhounds smell the screen when my email is on it so they can get the scent and track me down. I bet if they made a bloodhound smell this post the poor dog would yelp and hide behind the couch with his paws over his eyes.
Come out of the house with the $35 over your head.
I am writing the postcards that I promised a long time ago - TO NIGHT (that is the old English spelling). If you want one and haven't said anything yet, feel free to leave a comment. (This is the shameless comment grab portion of the post) I will be using a free VlAg(A) pen to write them and if that makes you uncomfortable then you can rescind your request. It's not a big deal.
I'm not going to even spell check this.
(Haha BIG.)
posted by Ghengis @ 10:56 PM,
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Sticker Shock
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
I've noticed that stores that still put sticker prices on their products are more likely to have higher prices on their goods. I went to the specialty shoe store to try to find something to put in my shoes to make them anti-foot damaging. The specialty salesman showed me something. It had a sticker on it that said $40. I told them I couldn't remember exactly what anti-damaging foot insert the doctor had suggested and I would return.
This was a lie. While I was at the specialty foot store and memorized the specialty foot product image in my head and looked it up on the internet. Sure enough, the same thing can be bought for $20 after shipping via faceless computer people who I will never meet. I feel kind of bad undercutting Mom and Pop like this, but if they can't find a way to compete in the public market then capitalism will surely fail.
They are building a Wal Mart about a block away from my house in a corner that is currently being used as a field for thistle plants and place to dump your dirt. It's not going to be close enough to interfere with property values or aesthetics of the neighborhood. At first I wasn't happy but now I really don't care. The only potential problem is a greater volume of traffic. I won't be shopping there anyway because I don't own any kids to beat in public, yet. I will make the sacrifice to drive an extra mile or two and shop at Meijer.
If you don't live within swatting distance of the mitt of the great state of Michigan, you may not know what Meijer is. Meijer is a 24-hour store similar to Wal Mart except it comes with a bit magic and sophistication. You are greeted at the door by a professional, off-duty clown. If you are lucky the clown will contort several long slender balloons into the shape of a shopping cart for you which is not only yours to place groceries and sundries into during your shopping experience, but also it is yours to keep if you can fit it in your vehicle. Nobody beats their kids at Meijer because there are No Beating Robots that patrol the store. The robots also retrieve products from high shelves for old ladies and catch shoplifters with their metal claws. Meijer has no sticker prices on their products so you can be sure of the best price possible.
I was using the U-Scan robot to check out my products on my own. Somehow one of the items was not scanned properly. In a feat of honesty I showed the girl at the U-Scan central command that I failed to pay for one of my items. She said I could go back, rescan it, and pay that way. When I went back to the robot I noticed a dollar sitting in the robot change slot. I had paid with credit card so I knew this wasn't mine. The previous U-Scan robot user was long gone. Was Karma paying in physical dividends?
Honesty hadn't lasted for very long. Since I had immediate use for it, I chose to use the forgotten dollar to aid in purchasing the previously unscanned product. I felt guilty for using money that wasn't mine to buy something so on my way out I found a charity in which to donate. I began feeding dollars into the robot lottery ticket machine.
The manager tracked me down in the process and wanted to thank me for being so honest and paying for something I could have stolen without punishment. I still felt guilty about the dollar so I took none of the credit. The manager insisted and wanted to reward me. The robot responsible was to be punished for allowing a scanning mistake to occur on its watch.
Be gentle.
All of the Meijer robots were forced to gather around and watch what happens when an error occurs among them. For the next few minutes I used the U-Scan robot to scan the previously unscanned product over and over, but never giving it the satisfaction of placing the product in a bag. The scene was horrific. One of the robots puked oil all over a rack of women's blouses.
That made me feel really bad since no one knew that I had taken the dollar out of the robot I was punishing. Overwhelmed, I threw the lottery tickets into the air and ran. If I see on the news that a robot won the lottery from a scratch off ticket, I will know that karma and I are finally even.
posted by Ghengis @ 11:24 PM,
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Tightening Security
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Hi. Thank you so much for posting this information! It was very helpful and I am going to bookmark your blog for sure! I just wanted to let you know that I too have a blog and it is at this address that you can get to by clicking here! And here! It is about something that probably isn't very interesting but since I gave you a generic compliment to begin with, you pretty much have to click on it. Oh and also click here and you could punch a monkey and win a free ipod video with satellite tuner and fold out eating utensils. Thanks again!
posted by Ghengis @ 3:18 PM,
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Two Legs Good
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Yesterday when I was 25 and I bought my movie ticket the girl didn't even ask if I was a student. She gave me the student discount because I looked that young.
Today when I'm 26 there was a 14-year-old in front of my locker at the gym. I told him to excuse me so I could get my clothes. He moved out of the way and replied, "Excuse me, Sir."
I am officially beyond old now:
- I listen to talk radio most of the day.
- I listen to audiobooks (just finished Animal Farm today).
- I get excited when it rains because that means my grass will look better.
- I think trimming baseboard is kind of fun and I can't wait to build a deck!
- I bought a wireless router and almost wanted to call some college kid to do it for me after not having it working after a half hour.
- I don't have time for video games anymore.
- I got a paper shredder and an ice tea maker for my birthday.
- My idea of a good party is
putting on classic George Gershwin records and talking about the good old days while sipping fine wines and eating cheesegrilling outside and later playing beer pong while there are 30 people at my house and somehow blood gets on the floor . - I like to sit in my office and talk to my 401k like an old lady talks to plants in hopes that it grows faster.
- My foot hurts so much sometimes that I can't run more than 1/8 of a mile.
Soon to be a 1-legged 800-pound fat guy.
I actually went to the foot doctor to find out what was wrong with it. I wasn't happy with the doctor's response. All he did was scribble on a piece of paper and slid it to me across the table as if he were making an offer I couldn't refuse. It said, "Buy new shoes". It had instructions on where to go - "Shoe Store". When I tried to explain that it may be something more than my shoes being old and could be something serious he just started flapping his quack wings and made hissing noises at me.
- I think it's fun to look up the origin of calling a doctor a "quack".
posted by Ghengis @ 5:03 PM,
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That's just Preachy
Sunday, October 02, 2005
I have a long post written and saved as draft right now. It would probably take up two Microsoft Word pages if copied into it. It was supposed to be funny but ended up sounding preachy so I decided not to post it. If something isn't at least mildly amusing it really isn't worth posting.
On the way back from a heartbreaking weekend, we stopped at a gas station. I wanted to drink something to rebuild the lining and soothe a stomach abused from a two day beer pong marathon. I grabbed a pre-made milkshake in hopes that the milk would fix everything.
You just aren't supposed to drink cookies.
14 ounces of milk goes pretty quick. When I was done, I dedicated the time where I had nothing left to drink to reading the bottle. During my perusal I was pleased to see that the milk had expired 2 months ago. The last 15 minutes of my life flashed before my eyes. Were those chunks really pieces of cookie or was that the beginnings of cottage cheese? The milk had not tasted sour. It was sealed the whole time right? The gas station kept it cold. It's fine. Right?
Since the stomach doesn't get very much thought thrown it's way, when you do start to focus on your stomach it twists and turns in every different way like you are taking glamour shots of it and it wants to make sure you can see its best side. All of that moving around makes for an artificially upset stomach. Now was it the milk causing the discomfort or was it just paranoia working at making things worse than they are?
No, it'll be ok. After all, how often do you hear stories on the news of people dying for drinking expired milk? No! You just never hear them because the government covers it up. If milk drinking caused deaths we would have a mad cow disease-esque crisis where no one would drink milk anymore. Government farm subsidies will have to increase milk production incentives. Taxes go up and the economy slows to a halt.
Meanwhile we become of society of brittle boned people. Osteoporosis strikes many at a young age. The manual labor industry screeches to a halt. The only sport (if it can be called that) left playable is NASCAR. At first everyone grudgingly hates the idea of having to pick a favorite race car driver and follow them for the season, but eventually without calcium everyone loses their teeth anyway and NASCAR is accepted as the nation's favorite pastime.
It's hours later and the milk still hasn't killed me. In fact my stomach doesn't really hurt. If I do die from it in my sleep know that you probably won't hear about it on the news. You have to carry on though and help make it known. It may mean watching and eventually liking NASCAR, but the truth has to be known or the terrorists win.
posted by Ghengis @ 10:32 PM,
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