TATTOPITW
there are two types of people in the world – sometimes updated weekdaily

• Home
• about the author
• have an idea?
• RSS

Established 1776

With your help, we can raise $1,000,000 of awareness.

• Recently Written

  • My PT Cruiser Can Do 0-60. Period.
  • Here’s to the weirdos, in general
  • Where emails go to die
  • Supersize me
  • Does anyone seriously need that much wintery chill?
  • Its rediculous when you’re spelling get’s in the way
  • Have you ever been stall-ked?
  • How a clarinet can destroy a life
  • I’m sure your zero friends are impressed by your income
  • Great email signatures

• Highest Rated

  • Metaphors are better than butterflies on a pickup truck full of beets (5.00 out of 5)
  • Rain melts brains (5.00 out of 5)
  • People Who Drive In The Left Lane (5.00 out of 5)
  • My PT Cruiser Can Do 0-60. Period. (5.00 out of 5)
  • Here’s to the weirdos, in general (4.92 out of 5)
  • The airport bathroom is not a good place for speakerphone (4.89 out of 5)
  • Why is mommy dressed like your secret friend, daddy? (4.86 out of 5)
  • Must. Fight. Plaque. (4.75 out of 5)
  • “2″ is code for “make everyone hate me” (4.71 out of 5)
  • Its rediculous when you’re spelling get’s in the way (4.70 out of 5)

• Categories

  • at work (17)
  • food and eating (16)
  • health (5)
  • in cars (10)
  • in general (31)
  • my life (9)
  • politics (1)
  • sports (3)
  • technology (3)
  • travel (7)
  • Uncategorized (2)

• Archives

  • May 2010 (1)
  • August 2009 (3)
  • July 2009 (12)
  • April 2009 (2)
  • March 2009 (4)
  • February 2009 (2)
  • January 2009 (7)
  • December 2008 (7)
  • November 2008 (12)
  • October 2008 (21)
  • September 2008 (17)

This blog is going to give you a virus

People who are friendly with computers

People who think that one errant keypress can break your computer and/or cause your house to explode

How many people believe that this headline is true?  It is.  Run.  No, just kidding.  Don’t run.  It’s too late – I already own your bank account.

I think that computers are great.  I think they help you in almost every way.  Want to see the best price on that toaster?  Done.  Want to take thousands of photographs and find the one you need in a near instant?  Also done.  Want to take Aretha’s hat and put it on your head?  Computers to the rescue.  Oh yeah, and I own your bank account.  Not kidding.

But there seems to be an evil side to computers, too.  Not the evil side where little Asian kids dream up viruses that are going to delete everything on your computer when you open that greeting card from yourFriendSlutPharmacy@yahoo.com, but the evil side where the computer itself just scares people.

Maybe it’s not just computers, but technology in general.  How about when you buy your parents that new coffee pot with the automatic timer and built-in grinder.  They already have the coffee pot that you plug into the wall and it makes coffee, and it took them 6 years to master that one.  Now they’re staring at this new contraption with these bells and whistles, and all they can say is, “It looks like it just has more stuff that can break.”

That’s the cop out.  People shroud their fear in cynicism.  I was eating dinner with a couple that we’re friendly with – the guy is a geek like me and the girl is very funny and very not geeky.  The guy and I start geeking out on how WordPress is cooler now, and the girl just starts making fun of us, making beepy-boop sounds like a 60’s Hollywood computer.  But this girl is a traitor to herself: she just started a blog, and she’s trying to figure out how to doctor it up and get it moving, too.  Well, she’s getting no help from me.

In another episode, my dad has this fancy remote that is said to make controlling his TV, stereo, DVD, etc. easier.  It is not.  This remote looks like you could start a car 3,000 miles away with it, and that’s exactly what must happen when you push its buttons because we’ve confirmed it doesn’t do anything to the television.

What my parents think happens to a mobile phone when they’re not looking.

This remote requires that everything electronic in the room be in a certain state (on/off/armed). If the stereo is on and the TV is off, it’ll just turn the TV on and the stereo off.  You have to re-set it all if it doesn’t work, which is something you can’t do: owning this remote has replaced touching these dark metal boxes of electronics/explosives directly. They had a guest that fussed their equipment up, and the local geek squad guy charged them $300 to set it all up again.  He probably just came in and pressed the power button.  Easiest $300 in history.

I had planned to take more time/space to really dive more deeply into how disgusted I am with tech guys, geek squad, those other rapists, but I think I’ve run out of reader stamina.  Just know that I hate these robbers because I should have thought of it first.  That’s my $300.  But there’s way more money in your bank account.  Not kidding.

Your ringtone is the third leading cause of misery

People who have completely absurd ringtones

People who have all-too-common ringtones

I’ve been accused, lately, of taking sides, so here’s one where we all lose.  I hope you’re pleased.

About a week ago, I was sitting in a restaurant.  The name of the restaurant isn’t important; what is important is that people must eat something immediately following the purchase of a new cell phone, without fail.  How do I know this?  Because restaurants are the official headquarters of the “find your new ringtone” process.  And with all of that hustle-bustle going on, the new phone buyer is forced to complete their sonic expedition at maximum volume, alerting everyone in the restaurant and neighboring businesses if the phone was purchased at AT&T or T-Mobile with two of the most distinct and annoying series of notes ever put together by man.

Usually, the next ringtone in line tells you if the phone is an iPhone, a Nokia, a Samsung, a Motorola (God forbid), etc.  The Nokia sets always sound like a broken Atari, the Samsungs have various ridiculousness, including cats meowing out jingle bells, giggling Chinese schoolgirls, or the strangely intense music that makes the owner of the handset sound like she’s in Mission Impossible every time Blockbuster calls to remind her that The Birdcage is due.

So this is where the crossroads happens.  Usually at about the same time the bruschetta hits the table, the tone tester has settled down on one of two options: something that will give you instant-onset TMJ, or “Old Phone”.  In my case that day, it was TMJ.  More precisely, it was a T-Pain riff that I was able to successfully get out of my head just 9 short days later.

But on the other side of the coin, “Old Phone” is just as much of a tragedy.  Do you remember those movies in the 90s where a phone would ring and about 20 people would pull their cell phone out and say, “Hello?” at the same time?  Then one person would raise their handset, coiled wire going down to the briefcase-sized carrying case, and say, “It’s mine!”

“Old Phone”, or the ringtone where your mobile sounds like that flesh-tone phone in your grandmother’s house (the one where you have to hold the cord in just the right place to hear and not get that scratching noise), is on the other 50% of humanity’s cell phones, and on 98% of iPhones.

Guys normally have the phone in their pocket, often with the vibrate function on, so it’s easy to tell if it’s theirs or not, but girls with their purses are a whole different story.  If churches wanted to double their tithes, they should play “Old Phone” over the speakers just as the baskets are beginning their round, opening 85% of the purses.  Then, that penetrating stare from the preacher when the girl is caught with her purse open would really be effective.

So the moral of the story is this: there is no happy ending here.  We are all doomed to listen to techno renditions of Canon in D or Old Phone for the rest of our lives.  There is no winner.  There are only losers.  And you’re one of them.

I have “Old Phone”.  What do you have?  $0.01 to the first person to have the singing cats.

Yes, I know this one isn’t funny.  It’s Monday.

Fear flying? Fear geese!

People who are afraid of flying

People who have not been programmed by the media to think that every flight has a 97% chance of ending in your death, a very hurty, nasty death where you will probably catch on fire and drown at the same time because of light turbulence or someone leaving their cell phone on

So if you’re not living under a rock, you’ve heard about the plane crash in New York.  You’ve also seen the spot-on reporting, reminding us all that the goose population has risen 400%, that the climate change is increasing turbulence, and that the majority of pilots prefer to fly just a little bit drunk.  It helps take the edge off.

While we’ve had our eyes on Afghanistan, Canada has been raising and training geese in camps, virtually guaranteeing that double-engine bird strikes will happen on more flights originating near the Canadian border.

My wife is afraid of flying.  Not really flying itself – the part in the middle.  She’s just afraid of the “beginning to fly”, or takeoff, and the “almost no longer flying”, the landing.  Statistically, these are the times when most accidents happen, but also statistically, you’re more likely to be attacked by a rabid unicorn than experience any sort of life-threatening issue on an airplane.  So really, the fear is justified.

One of the things that always strikes me as funny is that my wife also hates it when the plane turns or banks somewhat sharply after takeoff.  Inevitably, she looks over at me with perfectly round, bugged eyes and says, “Why are they turning?  Why do they have to do that!?”  I can’t resist: I almost always reply, “because we’re not going to Cuba today.”

This is not something she finds funny until much later in the day.

So listen: I can understand the fear of flying.  The media gets a hold of this stuff and goes haywire.  In their computer simulation of the “crash” yesterday, a “crash” pilots would probably describe as a “flight anomaly”, NBC this morning showed a model of the plane approaching the Hudson, nosediving, when in fact there is no way that the plane approached the water at that angle.  If that were the case, there would be a wing wedged into the 65th floor of the Empire State building.

It bothers me that the media is sensationalizes this stuff to the point of making people abandon the safest mode of travel in existence.  Who wouldn’t look at a plane approaching water at a 45-degree angle and think, “If I was on that flight, I would be sitting in my own doo-doo.”  But those weren’t the facts of the case.

The irony of this all is that a big news post went out just the day before this incident, saying that we’ve gone two years without a fatality from a major airliner accident.  We still haven’t, but there’s no doubt in my mind that yesterday has grounded more than a few people.

So a positive message today, folks.  Go get help with your fear of flying.  It’ll help you in other places, too.

I hate your fancy pizzas

People who like pizza

People who like a pizza-like meal that has barbeque chicken, pineapple, and/or gyro meat on it

Last night, I joined a handful of fellow Atlanta bloggers at a pizza joint.  It was an interesting experience.  Most of the people were pretty nice, some of the people were pretty normal, and at least one person was pretty cool.  Some of the time.

But aside from that, I learned an interesting lesson: you can learn a lot about a person by the type of pizza they order.

What happens when a Whole Foods yoga treehugger gets a hold of a pizza.  New rule: if you can no longer see the cheese, it is not a pizza.  Unless it’s a meat lovers and the cheese is being covered by our tasty animal friends.

I blame California Pizza Kitchen for this nonsense:  Thai pizza.  Gyro pizza.  BBQ chicken pizza (which is actually okay).  White pizza (WTF!?!).  Broccoli on pizza.  None of these are good situations.

I’m a believer that pizza comes with cheese (if you’re on a diet), pepperoni (if you’re know what stairs are), and maybe some sausage, mushroom, or garlic can be thrown on if you’re on a date that’s going badly.  This experimentation is uncalled for.  If I want a gyro, I’ll eat a gyro.  If I want a salad, I’ll order a salad.  But when I’m hungry for pizza, I don’t want a gyro salad pizza.

I only bring this up because I worry about the implications.  I think we’re on a slippery slope here: pizza is a gateway food and we’re seeing this experimentation take hold in tacos, too.  We have fried chicken tacos, asian tacos, desert tacos, and more.  Will our children be eating buffalo chicken Golden Grahams? This is a future I don’t want to see.

~ Other stuff ~

This group has a pretty fun activity of passing a napkin around where you write the answer to a single question.  The question last night was, “What is your biggest pet peeve?”  When I found out this was the question, I was about half a PSI from total skull explosion.  Seriously?  Someone asking me what my biggest pet peeve is?  Um, can I answer infinity times?

Sports Fans . . . you look completely retarded

People who express their support for a sports team in healthy ways.

The average American sports fan.

With the college football national championship behind us and another Utah scandal brewing (a 13-0 ratio of wins to losses edging out their 12-1 ratio of wives to husbands), it’s time to take a look at the American sports fan – a rare mix of zeal, obesity, and outfits that make Richard Simmons look like Clint Eastwood.

One of these people is a sports fan, and the other is preparing to kill a gazelle and complete his rite of passage.  Can you tell who is who?  Hint: one looks like he’s already eaten a gazelle for breakfast, so it’s probably not him.

Nothing will change the course of history less than a football game.  So what is wrong with us that we make such idiots of ourselves in the name of sports?  I think I have it figured out:

Americans like people who can have sex with anyone they want, and we do whatever is possible to become a part of that institution. It applies in the opposite direction, too.  Why do you think we make fun of the theater dorks in college, and now we hang on every word of Sean Penn’s astute political advice?  Why do we stuff that kid that plays trumpet in a locker, only to go to his jazz concerts and get his autograph 20 years later? Why do we listen to sports analyses like “110%”, “leave it on the field”, “and “they just outplayed them” and think that these are glimpses into the genius of the athelete’s mind?  ”They outplayed them?”  Are you kidding me?  Someone let cancer know we’re about to outplay it.  All it takes is heart, right?

So really, this all just boils down to living vicariously through something we really only have a relationship with through clothing, vehicle accessories, and of course, food.  Someone sent me this picture last week:

If you experience an erection lasting more than four hours, eat this doughnut.  That should fix it.  Forever.

It’s an orange and blue doughnut, which I’m sure would have the same effect on you as washing your hair with CLR for a year.  And while this doughnut says, “I’m willing to get cancer to support my team,” sports fans really don’t have to go that far.  There are tons of other pastries that won’t take a 12 years off your life, but are still a light and fluffy symbol that this party is hosted by someone who might not be able to point to Europe on a map, but can tell you the third-string quarterback’s home town.  And can’t point to that on a map, either.

Tennessee cake – $45.  
Career-limiting facial hair – $0.
Wedding in a log cabin – $400.  
Drunk wedding photographer taking pictures at a 12-degree angle – $250.
Toasting to your future with plastic solo cups – $8.   
A blank stare on your wife’s face for the next 50 years – priceless. 

And how about this: isn’t it odd how much sports inspire people to put dumb crap on their heads?

“Has anyone seen my baseball?”

“Grrrrr!  I’m a moron!”

Do I like sports?  Yes.  Am I going to make myself look like a complete idiot?  Um . . . do you get more sex?

A new year, a new diet, a new failure

People who start the new year with a ridiculous diet and/or exercise regimen

People who are still sticking to their diet and/or exercise on January 9th

I owe many, many people credit for this idea (through their actions, not conscious recommendations), but just one person lit the fuse a few days ago.  In fact, I’m meeting this person for lunch today, so we had to plan accordingly.  I would usually embellish this part, saying that we have to go to a restaurant that serves raw chicken meat and slices of american cheese with a nice glass of fiber-max colon blaster, but we’re actually going to a normal restaurant where, doubtlessly, a somewhat awkward and uncomfortable order will be placed.  Or, it would be awkward, but the waiters probably get special training at the end of December for this sort of thing.

I’ll have one ham and cheese sandwich, hold the bread, cut the cheese into 1/4″ cubes, and trim the edges off the ham, wrapped in a whole-wheat pita pocket dipped in water.  No, wait, Oprah said soy paper.  And a side salad with a 1/64th teaspoon of no-fat ranch dressing, seeds removed from the tomatoes, and croutons made from compressed prunes.  And a 64 oz. diet coke.  Oh, and can I go ahead and pre-order the key lime pie now?

I’ve been long confused (and once drawn in) by diets that are dreamed up by people whose brains produce the same output as the south end of a northbound elephant.  I tried the no-carb thing for about 32 minutes last year.  It didn’t work out for me.

But there are so many people who give these zero-something diets a shot each January.  Zero carbs, zero fat, or zero protein.  Considering that there are three nutritional things that your body needs to survive, and these just happen to be the three, it strikes me as a little strange that we try this stuff out, but we do. I honestly have never met a single person who stuck to one of these zero-diets and didn’t end up in the doctor’s office with fragile bones, sleepless nights, or a major toilet issue.  I’m not prepared, personally, to trade food for any of those three things.

But I suppose I should wish you all good luck.  Good luck with your zero diets.  Good luck with your Tae-Bo, volume 23.  Good luck with your office-chair kegel exercises and your 7-minute abs.  Good luck with Tony Little, Susan Powder, Richard Simmons, Chuck Norris, or whoever becomes the next celebrity home fitness guru with absurd hair.  You’re going to need it.

The airport bathroom is not a good place for speakerphone

• subscribe to this blog

  
  
   Subscribe to RSS
  
  
  
  
  
  

  why you are here...

  You are here because you are awesome and you celebrate awesomeness.
  
  You are here to read a new post every weekday.
  
  You are here because there are two types of people in the world: people who are here, and people who suck.