A new scale for a new century.

After doing some yardwork (which involved hacksawing off the ends of trees), I took off my hoody and shoes in preparation for showering off all the leaf-gunk. I took my iPhone out of my pcoket and briefly checked Twitter in case someone had replied to me. They had not, but I spotted a tweet from @punky_and_me with the word "Amazeballs" on it, a word I had used in a tweet the previous day, so I was intrigued and clicked the link. It was a link to the mobile page version of a blog post featuring amazing claymation art from Etsy. I really liked one part, so I went to leave a comment. Tapped "Leave a comment". I typed my comment into the field on the mobile version of the comments page. It asked me what ID I wanted to used, I choose my Google ID then pushed "post". I was then taken to the non-mobile-web version of the comments page with a suddenly-blank comments field. I dutifully retyped my comment, and filled in the Captcha, which was something like "Cohardleb", then pushed "post". However, in the time it took for my finger to go from typing to "post" my iPhone autocorrected "Cohardleb" to "cohabitable". The page then spat me back to the comments page, where I had to carefully re-enter a new Captcha, aptly "RitardSm", then pressed post again. I was the redirected to a Google log-in page where I needed to enter my email address and password. Then hit submit.

Finally, it posted. This whole thing took 7-9 minutes of frustrated pecking at my phone. For one two-line comment.

I reached a 6.5 on the Tanjabraun Scale of Anger-At-Technology (similar to the Rounsaville scale for measuring racism).

So far, in this dimension, the only event which has caused a full 10.0 Tanjabrauns was a left-ward swipe on the trackpad of a Sony Vaio laptop being interpreted as "back" on a browser, in which sat a 10-page blog post that it had taken the better part of 2 hours to write.

Blue Wednesday

In which I actually become an old man.

So today was full of many gripes from myself and Tanja. For once, though, these gripes were directed outward, causing not sadness, but a sort of happy-anger. Some examples, written in the first person to save the invective:

"Damnit, Oporto! I know it's fast food, but I'm a 29-year-old adult! Can't I order a chicken burger without without it being "feisty"? Or else having 8 words per burger title? Austrian royalty has fewer names than your "Feisty BBQ and Bacon Double Fillet Chicken Burger with Cheese"!"

"Woman getting off the train: it does not count as a knee-length skirt if all the skirt that is below, say, your labia is not opaque!"

"Other woman: if you choose to leave the house wearing a skintight leopard print minidress AND have a belly that sticks out like this _) then it would be a good idea not to scratch your belly in the fashion of a caveman. Sorry, caveperson."

"Look at the way that guy is stooping. His back is curved like an expensive lamp. Either he's slouched his whole life or he's some sort of were-heron."

"No, no, by all means, if I stop to let you pass, please, come to a complete stop in front of me and try to work out which way I'll go by staring down at my shoes, while making little jerks and starts, like an old car full of cheap gas left to idle."

"I've been burnt out from looking at comics today. Well, I only looked at one, but it was enough. What for Warren Ellis DO to make this stuff up? Here's a tip. If the last page is your hero exposed to the vacuum of space as he bleeds out his eyes, vomits out his organs, then has his head implode, lovingly drawn over 6 panels, your book is fucking weird and I don't want it."

"When did it become okay for buskers to bring a dolly full of amplifiers to play Pitt st Mall? It's open air! I want to be able to choose to listen to you, not to have your music combined with whatever tripe the cosmetics counters are blaring to imply it's Milan fashion week to become a great sonic mud so I CAN'T HEAR MYSELF THINK!"

So yes. Today I became an old man. The women were dressed badly and like slatterns, the food was too complicated, the music was too loud, people were too stupid, things were too expensive, and the whole cycle went on and on and on.

I blame this in part on the fact we've been watching Black Books again this week. I was reminded of the Bernard moment post-party:

"It was awful! The music was too loud, the food was cold, the drinks FEW, and the people MANY. It was everything I expected. And LESS."

However, this giddy energy spilled over into, well, giddiness at the bottle shop by our house. We'd grabbed a six-pack and waited what seemed to be ages for someone to come around from the bar and do us the favour of taking our money. I leaned way over to see if someone was coming, and was caught out as someone appeared. A little embarrassed, I babbled after being asked if I needed a bag .

"Yes, I'd like one, please. I've had a few bad experiences where the cardboard of the six-pack gets wet and disintegrates and then, well, tragedy occurs."

"Well, what you need to do is tuck it into your elbow, like holding a football." the woman replied.

"Or like a baby!" piped up Tanja.

"A baby you can open and consume when you get home!" I finished.

We left, in giggles. We further extrapolated on the subject:

T: "Beer is better than a baby too, because, you know, it's useful!"

L: "Well, you don't have to wait 18 years for a beer to be useful."

T: "Oh, come on. 14 should do it."

L: "Fine. Beer is better than a baby because it has a use before the age of 14 as something OTHER than spare parts."

At which point, as they say, the meeting broke up.

We're odd.

Dinosaurs! Rar!

Day 20 was yet another collared shirt and tie day, so no update but today on Day 21, oh-HO, do you get a shirt.

So the job at that bank where I needed to wear corporate attire? The starting time was pushed back this week. Then on Thursday they had a meeting and said that due to a lack of people to train us (?), the roles were being pushed back to maybe (!) late July. The people who started three weeks ago still have jobs, but those of you we randomly selected to start later? Yeah, no. So I'm in the market. Again.

So, my shirt. It's got dinosaurs. And they're fighting. I got this from a Grab Bag at TeeFury last year, so I didn't actually choose it. But I like. And if you don't, well, I don't see any dinosaurs fightin' on YER fuckin' shirt, now do I?

The Sliding Scale and Perpetual Overcome-ances of Frustration and Anger

Overcome-ances is totally not a word.

I am finally playing Bioshock.

I downloaded the demo when I first got my PS3, and was intrigued by the art-deco steampunk feel of Rapture and the story. What I didn't like, and frankly, it's what I never like, is when games try to scare me.

Okay, seriously, video games. I'm 28 years old. I've lived on two continents where much of the wildlife is actively trying to kill you (like mosquitoes in Canada, and everything in Australia bar some of the sheep). I have enough actual phobias to fill a textbook. You don't need to foist a fear of the dark, fear of creepy children, and fear of disfigured monsters into my head. It won't all fit, like when I took that home-brewing course and forgot how to drive. But I digress. FEAR, that's it. Basically, video games, creepy children and disfigured monsters don't scare me. They won't scare me. So you shoving them into my face going "See? SEE? You have to harvest the Adam while horrible clown people try to eat you." is just annoying. I feel like I have to wade through the attempt at scaring me to get to the actual game.

So the game, and the titular sliding scale. Bioshock, you are a good game. Sometimes. However, you are also an extremely difficult game. Even on Normal mode. Ammo is scarce and occasionally non-effective. Your plasmid attacks use so much of your meter that you only get a few shots before you're out. I didn't discover the fine aim/zoom button until 6 hours in. Hacking the machines is hard and frustrating. And if you DON'T hack, you're killed by rapid-fire machine-gunning robots. The respawning system seems to choose a point at random when it brings you back, so you have to spend ten freaking minutes going "No, it wasn't this destroyed, dripping corridor, it was another destroyed dripping corridor." Early in the game, you have only two plasmid spots. One is electric, the next is fire. Then you're offered a telekinetic one. "Cool, says I, "I'll switch out for a second and if I don't like it, I'll switch back." WRONG. Once I swapped out the electric, it was gone. And did I mention electric is the handiest non-hacking way to kill the robots? Because it is. And now that's gone.

I also reached breaking point when facing one boss (the doctor). I fought him, dying 5 or 6 times, then running back and attacking, then dying again. He'd regenerate health in between. There was a point where I stopped and realised that I had little-to-no-health, little-to-no-Adam, no first aid kits, no syringes, no ammunition, and no money. I actually, physically sat back on the couch and said "No, I don't want to do this." and turned off the game.

Later, as I was playing again (shut up), I fought a Big Daddy for the first time, dying 7 or 8 times, then running back. Happily, he did not regenerate. I defeated him. "YES!" thought I. "Now where's that Little Sister?" She was gone. I combed the level, but all I found was another Big Daddy, who happily began to slaughter me again. WTF, Bioshock? I beat your hurdle, and then you glitch out my reward? You know what? Fuck you!

So anyway, I found, like I said, some bits of the game to be immensely satisfying. The minute you get the shotgun, the fun multiplies. I've also heard from others that the upgrade system late in the game is interesting. But why do I have to grind and grind through endless frustrations to get to the fun?

I had a similar moment in God of War 3. It's a game I've come back to a few times, play a bit of, then put away for a few months. This latest time, I was slashing along, having fun, when suddenly I get to a puzzle. Most puzzles in God of War are hard, but you can work them out.

This was not.

This was a version of Guitar Hero, using a controller. You have to get 45 consecutive button presses correct, including some two-button presses. Any mistake knocked you back to the start.

After 15 attempts and not getting more than halfway, I walked up to the TV, put down my controller and turned the game off. It's now sitting on the shelf, mocking me. I know that any time in the future that I want to play that game, if I want to progress the story, I'll have to beat the stupid mini-game.

Frankly, I couldn't be fucked. There's a moment Tycho from Penny Arcade describes in one of his posts about WoW, where he refers to the moment of transfer between leisure and obligation.

I've transferred.

Why I Hate Firefox

It's very simple. It will occasionally, for no reason at all, without warning, not work. I'll load up Firefox, click on a link from my favourite toolbar, or type something into Google, or whatever, and I'll get this response:

Not just once, not twice, but three times I have to reclick the link (refreshing just reloads the error page). Then it remembers that, oh right, it's meant to be a web browser and yes, these are websites, so I'd better let Lucas browse them.

This has shown up in the last 3 revisions, and each time I hope they'll fix it. They don't. And worse, it won't happen all the time. Just every 6th or 7th link, and it brings my experience grinding and crashing to a halt.

I want to support open source developers and all that but god DAMN this is such a basic thing.

Further anger? MOV files. They look great playing at 720p on the Quicktime player, but no video editor I can find, including Windows Movie Maker, Adobe Premiere Pro, or any of the free things I find can edit the suckers. The minute you try to speed up or slow them down, the framerate goes to hell and the video gets choppy. Any converter you get lowers the framerate. Argh.

Technology, why must it be two steps forward and one step back?

PS and by the by: Anamanaguchi's Scott Pilgrim vs The World: The Game soundtrack makes even the crappiest typing seem like epic haxxoring. Here are some snippets in this trailer:

Secret Garbage

So i tried to read Secret Wars, Marvel's big crossover from 1984. You can read about it here.

It's awful. Like really really bad.

You can sort of expect it when the explanation for doing this crossover was:

"Kenner had licensed the DC Heroes. Mattel had He-Man, but wanted to hedge in case superheroes became the next big fad. They were interested in Marvel's characters, but only if we staged a publishing event that would get a lot of attention, and they could build a theme around. Fans, especially young fans often suggested to me 'one big story with all the heroes and all the villains in it', so I proposed that. It flew. Mattel thought that kids responded well to the word, "secret" so after a couple of working names bit the dust, we called the story 'Marvel Super Heroes Secret Wars'."

...right.

Here are a few choice bits that caught my attention (I've purposefully skipped all of the self-introductions EVERY character does in EVERY panel, or I'd be here all damned night):

• "Oh, wow! That was, like tubular! You know -- to the max!" -She Hulk in a fight.
  Really? REALLY? Tubular?
• "Torch, when you can bend this ultra-hard alien metal like paper with your bare hands, THEN you can give me orders! Until then, I'll listen to our designated leader: Captain America -- and no one else!"
  And this is while fighting. Good thing talking is a free action.
• "It's no wonder that the name Mister Fantastic is renowned for compassion as well as courage! You give added meaning to the word hero, Richards!"
  And you're a snappy dresser too. Ha-HA! Isn't it nice how they talk like people talk?
  
• "Do you think Cap's handling this right?"
  "Does Dr. J play roundball?"
  ...Wait, whut? Round-what? What-ball? What-what? Is he referring to John Hewson? Former leader of the Liberal Party in Opposition?
• "Well, being absolute master of molecules I can just assimilate molecules when I want, so I never have to be hungry, and I can just shoo away dirt molecules, so I'm always nice and clean -- but I AM tired."
  Why not shoo away the tired molecules. The molecules too molecular? MOLECULES!
• Mister Fantastic: "It's alright, son! Considering the circumstances, why not? When you're done, I'll take my turn! I miss my wife, too terribly!"
  Okay, he's talking about crying and lamenting that you're away from your family, but it just sounds so wrong out of context.
• Iron Man is going around on jet-roller skates. JET ROLLER SKATES. That thud you head is my jet-head hitting the jet-wall.
• "Chubby chance, slow-poke."
  Spider-Man's meant to be quick-witter and clever. And yet.... chubby chance. And two panels later, Spider-Man casually backhands Wolverine across the room. Casually. Actually, Spidey is able to own Wolverine, Colossus, Rogue, Nightcrawler AND Cyclops. On his own. Times have changed, I guess.
• Dr Doom is shown giving two normal humans super-powers with a machine he finds. It's not explained where those two humans came from, or why (considering the Beyonder grabbed a whole bunch of heroes and villains). One of the villains even says "Hey, where'd they come from?" and another replies "Who cares?" and it's left at that. So even the BOOK doesn't care. That explains a lot.
• "Look at that storm, isn't it impressive?"
  "Nah! It's only molecules interacting, you know, and I control molecules!"
  MOLECULES!

I had to stop at that point. That's only three issues. THREE.

Apropos is a good word.

Apropos and as a follow-on to my previous post about Photography and people blocking shots with their hand (Oh, I'm not going to link to it, just look two inches down the page), I add this: On Thursday, Gonzo, while sitting on the other side of the pod from me as I was trying to organise something at my desk, held up his fancy schmancy digital SLR and started snapping photos without looking into the viewfinder. I, being extremely busy as well as annoyed by other things, held up my hand to block him. He then cited the blog entry, saying "Don't you hate people who do that?" This gave me pause, but in my head I can up with an answer. He was not taking photos because he found what I was doing interesting. He did not think I looked good. He was not even looking at the pictures he was taking. He was using the camera simply as a tool to annoy or provoke a reaction from me. This then gave me the right to block with my hand.

"Oh, don't take a photo!"

I’m finally taking a stand.

 

I hate, hate, HATE people who:

 

1.   A) flinch away, or try to block their face with their hand when you try to take a photo

 

-or-

 

2.   B) people who, upon seeing a perfectly fine-looking photo of themselves that you just took, will exclaim “Oh, God! I look ugly/fat/stupid! Delete that!”

 

Seriously, I’m over it.

 

As someone who takes a lot of pictures (nearly 4000 this year alone), nothing frustrates me more. This is especially bad when I’m trying to take a candid photo to actually capture a funny or interesting moment that I feel would make a good and well-composed picture. That candid photo is ruined when the person becomes a cringing blur as they exhibit behaviour A. Yes, I know that everyone’s image is their own business and that I shouldn’t be taking photos without permission, but come ON. Behaviour B seemed to be more of the ingrained body-conscious insecurity that’s drilled into people (of which I myself am an occasional victim) in which we must automatically downplay ourselves as ugly for fear of being considered arrogant and conceited (or worse, actually believe that we are unattractive and dismiss ourselves out of hand).

 

In any case, it comes down to this:

 

1.   I am a photographer and therefore (for better or worse) am an artist (of some sort).

2.   The pictures I compose and attempt to compose (for better or worse), are art (of some sort).

3.   Therefore, the people and objects in the picture (for better or worse), are part of that art (of some sort) and are worthy/interesting.

4.   Therefore, shut your face about it. I think you look good/interesting in this photos and that’s that.

 

These thoughts were kicked into action by a farewell I was at last night, and two friends of whom I took a candid photo of two people I know sitting by a wall and laughing at what a person standing nearby had said. The candid photo was natural and looked great. They then noticed I was taking photos and got quite embarrassed saying “Oh, delete that, I’m sure it looked terrible.” Despite having not seen the photo. I tried to downplay the situation by saying “Well, if you don’t want me to take a bad photo, let me take a good one.” (my mantra of sorts), and they posed. Then viewed the picture. “I look terrible in that one,” one said. “Take another.” They posed again. Repeat times 5. In the end, I just walked away. When I looked at the results, the two best-focused and best-looking photos were the first two I’d taken. Also, after putting the photos on Facebook, I got a narky comment about the candid one, stating “When did you take this, how dare you, I’m going to kill you when I see you next OMG.”

 

I can’t win. Frankly, I miss my old camera-phone, where you could take a picture without making a shutter sound, so people wouldn’t know (though, the camera was no good, and I know they auto-enabled the noise to stop locker-room shots and such).

 

So yes, if you’re one of the people like Craig and Stevie and Ted, of whom I can take many many photos and just love the attention, then I salute you.

 

 

Lucas Brown | Proxy Champignon
Master of Brainthinking

 

Customer Dis-service.

So I left training today with a splitting headache (my third in three days), and stopped at Broadway for lunch before going home. Ate my food, then wandered into Kmart, thinking I'd see if they had any Nerf guns. They did not, and I walked past the DVD cabinet on the way out. I noticed thaey had the new-packaged Star Trek Voyager complete box set (I missed out on the limited-edition EzyDVD Borg Cube box). I couldn't see a price tag, so I went over to the counter. The girl there was busy attempting to sell a mobile phone package to someone, so I waited a bit, then decided, with head still ringing, to go home and check into it later.

So, later. I'm home, and I give Kmart a call. Here is that conversation:

"Hello, Kmart Broadway."
"Hi, could you put me through to DVDs, please?"
*hold music*
"Hello, Audio-Visual."
"Yes, hi. I was wondering the price on your Star Trek Voyager Complete Box se-"
"We don't have that."
"....yes, I think you do. I was in there earlier and saw it. It's in the cabinet."
"Oh, you mean the white one?" (note: the DVD box is greyish. Even if she meant the cabinet, the cabinet is black.)
"Ummm, what?"
"I'll just go see, please hold."
*hold music. Ohhhhh, hold me now... hold my heart.... stay with meeeee*
*phone starts ringing. Ringing. Ringing.*
"Just a minute, we're trying to force the cabinet open, won't be a sec."
*hold music. Ohhhhh, hold me now... hold my heart.... stay with meeeee*
"Okay. Got it. It's $250."
"Thank you."
*I hang up.*

If I'm making it sound quick or easy, I'm telling it wrong.

Geez, and people bite on Telstra for bad service.

Fyeh.

So I get another call today, from the shirt people (you know, the ones I feel like I do nothing but complain about lately?) this morning, confirming that yes, I will be making the shirts for them by Saturday, and that I can bring in the shirts on Friday and Tim will give me the money. So later on, I'm at home, with chilli con carne simmering, and I'm looking up the design (as yes, I had deleted MY designs in a fit of pique) that they want when I discover something. My google-search leads me to the musician's MySpace page, which leads me to two realisations:

1) MySpace is awful Even loading up someone's page makes my Firefox crash and makes me want to run back to my Facebook.

B) When these people were originally calling me 5 or 6 times a day to quibble over what I was going to theoretically do, one of them mentioned casually that Tim had said I was good with Photoshop, and could I put the logo onto one of the promo pics and that they'd give me credit for the design, as well as for the t-shirts. I said okay, and sent them a basic logo spot, then 3 or 4 half-assed attempts of mine to make the photo cooler, saying that they weren't finals, but just me messing around with ideas, and to tell me what they thought. This email was responded to with the 7 weeks of silence, so I figured they didn't think much. Well, what I found on the MySpace page was one of my designs which they'd clearly liked, as it's the Australian street poster for the tour. It's on the MySpace as such, with no credit to me listed.

Now, I get not giving me the shirt credit, because I didn't do them (except the two prototypes), but that? Come on! It's my work! Tanja pointed out that she didn't see much of a change, so I'll let you judge:
Here's the original picture.
Then the logo they sent me.
And this is what I made in 10 minutes.

So the question is: Did I change it enough to make the new work my intellectual property? Not that I want to kick up a big stink, but it just mad me angry(er).

To top it all off, I got ANOTHER call this evening from them, wanting to meet me tomorrow, even saying they'd drag Tim along. They then asked about the shirts again, and I confirmed they'd be ready tomorrow. They sounded presently surprised. So why did they want to meet with me if not to pick up the shirts?

So I probably won't give them a serve when I see them tomorrow, as I'm nonconfrontational and polite (read: gutless) so I'll probably express my concerns as a "goshdarnit, haven't I been worried" joke and I won't be heard.

But hey. For all I know they want to apologise. And if you belive that, I have a use Death Star to sell you.

Required: One Padded Room

As I discussed here (4^th paragraph), I had been approached in early June to do some shirts for a promotions company. Well, after 7 weeks of silence, I got a phone call while waiting for the train this morning.

 

“Oh, yes, it’s So-and-so. Can we still get two shirts with just the name, not the design?”

“Ummm, I suppose. I still have the shirts I bought last time.”

“Yeah, those will do. Can we have them by Saturday?”

“Ummm. I guess.”

“Okay, do you have other So-and-so’s number?”

“No. And I can’t write it down. I’m at a train station.”

“I’ll call you later when you’ll be able to write it down.” *click*

 

It took me a moment, but then I was so angry I wanted to thrash around and scream. 7 freakin’ weeks!?!? No word? I mean, come on! I’m a cottage industry and I’m more professional than these mooks. I don’t even know if I have the designs anymore, as I’ve deleted most of them thinking, oh I don’t know, that I’d never hear from them again!

 

So (since I have the inability to say no to people who want to pay me), I’ll do their two shirts, and then I’ll give them a serve. I might type it, so I can get the tone right.

 

Sigh. It’s hard out there for a pimp t-shirt maker.

 

 

Lucas Brown | Proxy Champignon
Master of Brainthinking

 

Eventual bad morning.

I had a crappy evening/morning combination. See, I got home at 10 or o, and decided to work on the logo for Tanja's intramural office thing. So I did that for a while, and Tanja went to bed, reminding me to set up "breakfast stuff". You see, when one of us needs to get up early, the other usually set up the coffee-maker and the dishes for cereal and juice and stuff so the morning person can just switch it on and avoid thought and responsibility. After a while of struggling with the PC and its inability to handle having more than two things open without shutting one down, I gave up and shut down for the night. I also noticed that the light was on in the bedroom and I heard the unmistakable turn of a page. Tanja was still up reading, of course, looking guilty. Next morning, wake up around 7, and Tanja's informing me that I forgot to sort out the breakfast things. I shamble, unrequested, out of bed and attempt to help, but she tells me to go back to bed. I try, but never really get back to sleep. Got up later, and finished work on the logo. After that, I realized that I'd better hightail it to the gym if I was going to get back in time to get ready. So I decided not to go to them gym. And then did nothing with the extra time. I tried to watch the Blu-Ray of Batman: Gotham Knight, but I couldn't get into it. I kept focusing on the bad people animations in the first story. So I turned it off. Tried watching Looney Tunes: Stranger than fiction, but again, the animation quality was terrible, and the jokes weren't funny. Turned it off. I got distracted, watered the plants, and then boom, hour to go. Showered, tried to fight with hair, which was big and frizzy. Hated it. Went to get dressed. Felt like none of my clothes were fitting. I get myself halfway sorted and head out the door, almost immediately sweating thanks to the blasted humidity. I start walking, knowing that I need to stop at the post office to send off something for eBay. On the way to the post office, I start to listen to my new Cat Empire live album. For some reason it seems really all over the place, badly mixed or just uninspired (although I blame my state of mind). And let's not forget the BIG HUGE TRUCKS and busses that drive by revving their engines and deafening those of us on the sidewalk with roaring sonic mud, completely drowning out any music, headphones notwithstanding. Then huge line at the post office. Takes forever to send off my parcel. Grab a bus afterwards, and get a pile of noisy high school kids sitting around me. Tanja calls to say she got the logos, and asks if I hung out the washing the way I had said I would. Crap. Of course I forgot. I offer to hop off the bus and go into work late, but she says no, it's okay. Throughout the whole thing I could barely hear her.

So there you go. A crappy morning. Not that I had construction outside the window to wake me up, or that I lost $20 or anything like that, but lots of little annoyances. Also, later, at work, the pasta I brought wouldn’t reheat all the way, so I ate it mostly cold, and my throat rejecting it about three-quarters of the way through.

You know, sometimes, I daydream about breaking my leg or something that would sideline me from the day-to-day for a little while (is that strange?). Not that I hate work or anything, but I think that the last couple of weeks of constantly having something due has left me in a slightly frenzied state where I feel like I’m constantly slacking off, even when I have nothing I need to do right then. Weird.

And my feet are aching for some reason.

Ain't no "good parts" version.

I've been thinking about TV lately.

A comment has been leveled at me that I don't like shows that take "a long time to develop". To a point, this is true. Just off the top of my head, I can think of several shows where I attempted to get into them, and failed:

[-]Neon Genesis Evangelion: Craig lent me his big honking box set, and before Christmas, when Tanja was in the mountains visiting her Mom, I cracked the box and a beer and gave it a shot. I hated it. I found the storyline silly, the voice acting over-the-top, and it all seemed like the average Giant Mecha show, but with added wierd phychological undertones. After the first disc, I stopped watching.

[-]Heroes: I had heard big things about this series when it had started, but missed the pilot due to work. I did, however, catch the second episode, which I later learned was the direct continuation of the pilot. I was so confused (although, since it was a two-parter, it was partially my fault). I didn't know why Ali LArter was running away and looking worried/pensive/hungry into the camera, I kind of like Hiro, but then didn't know what he was about, apparently, this Mohinder guy is important and intelligent, but not very bright on a practical level, the chick's dad is acting sacary for no reason... I didn't finish the episode.

[-]Dead Like Me/Arrested Development: both things I got the first disc of from Bigpond movies and both comedies where I barely laughed. I thought Arrested Development had a bit of potential, but I found it tried too hard to be zany and wacky, and though David Cross is a funny, funny, man, I hated his character (no, not in an "I'm supposed to not-like-him" way, but in that "I-don't-want-him-onscreen-anymore" way). Dead Like Me seemed to be trying to be deep, but missing the point and just being depressing.

Now, that being said, there have also been shows I've watched that grabbed me, sucked me in and took a major break to get me out:

[-]Lost
[-]The Sopranos
[-]30 Rock
[-]The Wire
[-]Band of Brothers
[-]Family Guy
[-]and one for Tanja, Nip/Tuck

With all of these shows except 30 Rock, I was hooked in good and tightly because I started watching them on DVD. By watching three or four 1-hour episodes per evening, I really got a chance to follow the big story of the characters and their arcs. However, these DVD darlings had their break moments too (except the Wire, and Band of Brothers). For Lost and Sopranos, it was when I caught up with what they were showing on TV and started to watch one show per week. Suddenly, the characters were acting in unexplainable ways, everything seemed obtuse and confusing and I stopped caring. The Sopranos remedied this once I got the last season on DVD and could watch it together in one go. Lost still hasn't won me back. With Nip/Tuck, which originally got Tanja's attention due to the focus on hard topics and not shying away from having their characters do horrible things, the show/characters eventually got so horrible that we didn't give two fucks about what happened. We've had the last two episodes to go of Season 3 (in which a big reveal is meant to happen) for nearly two years now. We couldn't care less. I read the Wiki for the reveal and boy was it stupid. Family Guy, well, when you get Season 5 as a gift, watch 5 episodes and don't get one laugh? It's time to quit.

Recently, Craig has been twittering that he started watching Buffy and that it sucked. I felt for him, because yes, those early episodes can be a real slog. Then a lightbulb went off. How come I slogged through Stone Age Buffy and didn't give up? Why was I able to coach Tanja through the first two seasons of Star Trek: The Next Generation without one of us throwing tomatoes at the screen? How can I watch the first series of the Muppet Show, with celebrities I've never heard of, except in jokes on Pinky & the Brain (Ben Vereen, Ethyl Merman, Paul Williams, Connie Stevens, Avery Schreiber, etc)? What's the difference?

I've thought a little and I think the answer is that I came to all three of those shows on TV myself (Buffy, with one or two Season 1 eps, then the most of Season 2; Star Trek, through reruns when I was 10 or so, ditto the Muppet Show) and so had made the decision to like them before I watched them in order. That way I know it'll be good once I get through the bad stuff. Maybe I've just grown to expect more from shows that people tell me are great and then lend/encourage me to rent.

In any case, I currently have waiting for me on the living room shelf:

[-]Half of Frasier, season 10
[-]the last half of Season 3 Seinfeld (having watched the seasons in reverse order)
[-]Season 5 of the Wire (just ordered from Amazon)
[-]Season 2 of 30 Rock (which Tanja was unhappy to discover consisted entirely of episodes we'd already seen because I'd downloaded them)
[-]the tail-end last episode of Season 5, then Season 6 & 7 of Star Trek: Deep Space 9.
[-]Seasons 2 & 3 of the Muppet Show
[-]Season 1 of Heroes, which Tim lent to me.
[-]The rest of Craig's Neon Genesis box.

So I think I've got enough to watch for now.

Bzzzap.

I was at the gym yesterday and I saw on one of the monitors part of an episode of the latest Spider-Man cartoon, The Spectacular Spider-Man. I watched it without sound for a little bit, seeing Spidey hop around dodging energy blasts from a guy in a green suit that looks similar to Ultimate Scorpion, but without the tail. His mask was opened up partway through the fight and he seemed to have a sort of green Ghost-Rider-style flames around his head. I then plugged my headphones into the jack to see who the hell this guy was supposed to be. The audio came up just in time for me to hear this villian go "They're gone! Gone! My only chance at a cure!" as some bystanders run away. "It's your fault!" he ranted at Spidey, "and I'll make you pay!" Blast. Dodge. Blast-blast. Dodge. Then the villian stole some electricity from a nearby machine.

Then it hit me.

This is meant to be Electro.

What the fuck?

First off, don't draw electricity like flames. Draw it like lightning. Lighting is cool. Green flames are not. It used to bug me when Transformers would draw metal crumbling and falling apart like rock, so this is not a new pet peeve of mine.

Secondly, I hate Spider-Man fights where he's hopping around like a jumping bean avoiding hits and allowing tons of collateral damage when he should be fighting proactively, like, say when a civilian or two is nearby. The fact that they based the climax of the episode around a fight like this bores me.

Thirdly, Electro! He's an electrified goon! A mercenary! He enjoys his powers because he's basically a big bully. Picture Nelson Muntz if he could electrify things. The guys on iFanboy had this discussion where basically Spider-Man villians fall into three categories: those that are misunderstood out-of-their-control monsters (like The Hulk, or to some extent, Venom), pure evil (either homicidal or world-domination style, such as Carnage, Doctor Octopus, and the Green Goblin), and there are the powered bank robbers (such as Scorpion, Vulture, and Electro). All they want is money. Putting a tortured, "oh, I'm a freak, all I want to do is be normal"-Mr-Freeze-style-backstory on Electro is like putting an elevator in an outhouse. It don't belong.

I know it's a kids-oriented show, and they think by giving him this backstory, it'll make people sympathise. They might, it's true, but then having Spidey whomp this guy into oblivion kind of stops you from enjoying that sympathy.

But I digress.

Inconvenient Weather (reposted from The Lucas Letters)

"Dear All and Sundry:

The weather was very disagreeable today. Early this morning, it was overcast and misting lightly, but did not either rain, or stop misting. Then the sun came up more, but the low overcast cloud made it hot, but stuffy. And just bright enough to make you squint, but overcast and dark enough that if you wore sunglasses, it'd be impractical. Then a wind would come up and it would feel cold enough to need a jacket, but if you had the jacket, you'd be too hot when the wind wasn't blowing. And the wind was JUST hard enough to blow your hair in your face. Something must be done about weather like this. Perhaps some sort of committee. In any case, I'm chucking a crateful of hateful at this weather.

Had a bunch of people over for a Halloween movie marathon/dinner. Ted, Craig & Mel, Adrian & Tommy, Casey & Ryan all came and showed support for my addiction to having people over and hosting. Was fun. We watched Shaun of the Dead, and Scream, and Ghost Ship and Deep Blue Sea. Tanja made an Asian pickled salad and honey-and-soy chicken, and I made Szechuan beef and an apple cake (styled a "Granny Pudding" in the recipe) for dessert. It was proper marathon length, too. First guest arrived at 6:30 pm, last guest left at 1:50 am.

Less than two weeks until the big day!

-Lucas"

Day 1: Mountain time

(if this entry seems mundane, it's mostly because its an exercise in learning to type on my new eeePC!!! and it's slightly tiny keyboard)
So yeah. I'm currently up at Tanja's parents' place in the mountains. After having people over Friday night and going to bed so late, I was completely wiped this morning. I got up and packed and got to the train on time, only to find out the was track-work between Central station and the mountains. Cue to two hours later. Two hours, mind, of sitting over the transmission hump of the bus, so that whenever it stopped, my seat would shake like a good martini. I had a massive headache by the time I got to Penrith. I took some tablets and slept for an hour. Feeling better now. I brought along the fourth Scott Pilgrim book, but I loved it so much that I read it too fast and now it's done and I have a lack of book. Tanja offered me her new Vogue to read, but I have my pride. I shall not fall to the fashion magazine!

Alright, fine.

I got an email from my father today. He rather abruptly accused me of cutting myself off from my family in Canada. His example was that my little sister had sent me an email last week and I had not, as of yet, responded. He also said that my responses to anyone's emails were sporadic at best.

 

To be frank, he was mad, and he was a bit rude about it, saying that I was basically saying "fuck you" to my family.

 

This is not the case. I wrote him a calm email back.

 

His email gave me an idea that I stewed over all the way to work. The idea started as a mailing list and then evolved into a new Blog. Letters. A weekly-updated blog, written in a letter format, detailing all the ins and outs of my life.

 

They want me to share? I'll share.

 

The idea isn't completely spiteful. Part of the problem I have discussing the facets of my life with my family is that they're so far removed from my day-to-day that it would take too long to explain all the background needed for them to understand.  For example, if I'm happy that I've gotten back-of-house work all week, I'd have to explain what BOH was, how it relates to my job, why it's better than my usual job and yadda yadda yadda.  With this blog, I can readdress things, build on comments made in previous weeks, and generally let them into my world a bit. I'll add pictures, maps, the whole shebang. Plus, it'll be nice for my little sister.

 

Still, I think what he did was a bit mean. I mean, my contact with Dad has been the occasional phone call and email, most of which are about how great he's doing, which, on the phone, I'll congratulate him for and, in the email form, send a reply to. There will then be nothing for weeks. Then I'll get an email like today about how he's wondering if he's on "the bad list." It's frustrating.

 

So now, it'll be up to them to keep abreast of my day-to-day.

 

*sigh*

 

Sincerely, Internet's...

Lucas Brown

Now completely legal (in the states he's not banned)!

 

So I was in Marrickville Metro getting groceries today.

I decided to stop by Sanity to see how much they were selling the new Grates and Beck CDs. I couldn't find either in the rock/pop section, so I went to the counter and asked. The emo-looking guy looked up Beck first, first looking confused as to who Beck was. He went and got the single copy they had, which was in the back of the store and scanned it to check the price. $29.95. "That's a bit much" says I. "Well," says he, "with stuff like this we only get like 3 copies and it's not worth marking down. It's not like we'd sell a lot of this." Tamping down my anger, I asked after the new Grates CD. "Oh, we have tons of that one." spake the tool, walking up to a huge promotions rack, where the Grates CD was selling for 22.95. "We never have a problem selling that, so it's on special. Isn't that nice?" I paid for the Grates CD and left.

It took me a while to realise why it made me mad. I was High Fidelity'd! For asking for BECK! What the fuck is this world coming to?!?

ATLing

So I've been an ATL* for the past 3 weeks. I suppose it could be a rewarding experience, with a different team. The #1 job I've had for the last 3 weeks is just keeping them on the phones and not wandering around. I mean, you work in a call centre, people! How hard is it to sit at your desk and do your damn job?

 

I've given out numerous warnings, had meetings, created action plans and logged more jobs** than I can count. I even had a dream about logging jobs. I was sitting at the computer, logging like 15 jobs in a row and one of the team members kept asking me questions, and I, knowing it was a dream somehow, and angry at myself for having a dream where I do this, lept upon him and beat him bloody. let it be known that I knew it was a dream and I was trying to wake myself up. But it was very satisfying.

 

Does that make me a sociopath?

 

Anyway, I think i could be a Team Leader for realsies. Just not for this team. Also, I think the constant pressure to sell sell sell would get to me in under a week. I have a hard time motivating staff to sell, as I myself am not terribly motivated to sell. I'm happy to help my team, and solve their problems and develop them, but pushing them to sell seems beyond me. Everything I try seems so forced and cliched. Oh well.

 

We'll see.

 

*Acting Team Leader
**Logging jobs is tracking lates, sicks, exceptions from phone time, technical issues, and pretty much anything else out of the ordinary.

 

 

Sincerely, Internet's...

Lucas Brown

Now completely legal (in the states he's not banned)!