So I get this invite sent to me. Don't ask. Someone's got me down as a technical person. I can no longer lay claim to that title since I plugged in a microwave in my office and shorted out an entire row of cubicles. Besides, I'm a fairly decent speller, which excludes me from the technical set.
At any rate, invite is as follows:
Subject: Announcing Oscilloscopes 101!
The class will discuss oscilloscope specifications like bandwidth,
rise-time, sample rate, record length, and triggering capabilities. It
will also address best practices for probing the signal of interest.
The lecture will be reinforced with hands on labs to drive home the key
points.
Hmmmm. Street cred it's not. Close call between the Rock Band 2 Accordion attachment fan club and this one. This stuff just needs to be sexier! Maybe introduce some *edge.*
Here's what I suggest:
Subject: Pimp yo Ossy
Ever been pwned by some chump who thinks he can just walk into your hood and think he can just start samplin' bandwidth? Think you ain't got skillz to go toe to toe with his mad Ossy moves? Think again. Our boy JB is straight outta RTP and will be triggerin' and probin' -- you will too. If you got the stones to sign up that is.
Monday, June 15, 2009
New Year's resolutions
So much for the one post per week commit I made back in Jan. So it's been 3 months since the last one. Hey do I really want to give a stream-of-consciousness about my commute up the bowels of 101 to Mothership hi-tech company where I work? Nope. Realizing quickly that my life is interesting in 5 minute bursts easily quenched by Facebook.
I wonder. When I was 8 or 9 yrs old, I think I wrote down astronaut as my aspiration. I should go back and smack that inner child to lower his expectations. Hey man, you're makin' modern-day me look bad, punk!
I wonder. When I was 8 or 9 yrs old, I think I wrote down astronaut as my aspiration. I should go back and smack that inner child to lower his expectations. Hey man, you're makin' modern-day me look bad, punk!
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
ads!
I know all the online ads and such are a big money maker, and I'm cool with Facebook, Google, et al to slap contextual ads in my online haunts. Thing is, I'm a bit disturbed at the ads I receive these days; esp on my Facebook page.
"Get RIPPED now!"
"Whiter teeth in 10 days!!"
"Online degrees from Kazfanistan. Ask about our Buy-One-Get-One medical degree program!"
I dunno why these ads are being served up to me, but I DO know that it's hurting my confidence. I think these search engines, in their blinky little electronic brains, have painted a picture of a severely paunchy, rotted tooth troll who is looking to make a major career shift from vegetable to human. Oh well. Nothing like a Reese's Peanut Butter cup to make those worries go away.
"Get RIPPED now!"
"Whiter teeth in 10 days!!"
"Online degrees from Kazfanistan. Ask about our Buy-One-Get-One medical degree program!"
I dunno why these ads are being served up to me, but I DO know that it's hurting my confidence. I think these search engines, in their blinky little electronic brains, have painted a picture of a severely paunchy, rotted tooth troll who is looking to make a major career shift from vegetable to human. Oh well. Nothing like a Reese's Peanut Butter cup to make those worries go away.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
safety equipment
ya know something?
I'm feeling scared. Not in a seeing a crazed half-decomposed undead reflection in the rearview mirror kinda way, but in a pervasive unease like being informed, "I'm gonna kick you in the groin sometime today but won't tell you when." I guess it's no wonder. I turn on the news and the world as we have known it has ended and is thrashing about in agony. California unemployment hit + passed 10% effortlessly, seemingly juiced like another famous Californian's HR record. Friends have lost jobs... Other friends mow their foreclosed neighbor's lawn so vagabonds don't move into the vacant home. Hm. Maybe the decomposed zombie in the mirror is preferable? At least then my training on the PS3 will come in handy and I know what to do.
I get in the car and drive to the office. Other than that low-grade permanent Threat Level Orange feel, life goes on. I wonder how much of this is simply self-perpetuating, self-fulfilling mass attitude? I dunno. But for the time being, I'm going to be heads down, getting work done...oh, and I guess I'll wear a cup too.
I'm feeling scared. Not in a seeing a crazed half-decomposed undead reflection in the rearview mirror kinda way, but in a pervasive unease like being informed, "I'm gonna kick you in the groin sometime today but won't tell you when." I guess it's no wonder. I turn on the news and the world as we have known it has ended and is thrashing about in agony. California unemployment hit + passed 10% effortlessly, seemingly juiced like another famous Californian's HR record. Friends have lost jobs... Other friends mow their foreclosed neighbor's lawn so vagabonds don't move into the vacant home. Hm. Maybe the decomposed zombie in the mirror is preferable? At least then my training on the PS3 will come in handy and I know what to do.
I get in the car and drive to the office. Other than that low-grade permanent Threat Level Orange feel, life goes on. I wonder how much of this is simply self-perpetuating, self-fulfilling mass attitude? I dunno. But for the time being, I'm going to be heads down, getting work done...oh, and I guess I'll wear a cup too.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
top 5 reasons for using the gym at 2 pm instead of @ lunch
1. No need to prowl the parking lot for 15 minutes looking for the closest parking space...in preparation for a 30 min run
2. Less chance of running into the very folks that caused you stress to get you in the gym in the first place
3. Avoid the highly unpleasant crowded sauna wherein the only place to sit is on a body-shaped sweatmark left by previous occupant
4. Much easier not to go at all by postponing the workout till after work, then to lunch the next day
5. No lines for the post-workout In-N-Out burger drivethru
2. Less chance of running into the very folks that caused you stress to get you in the gym in the first place
3. Avoid the highly unpleasant crowded sauna wherein the only place to sit is on a body-shaped sweatmark left by previous occupant
4. Much easier not to go at all by postponing the workout till after work, then to lunch the next day
5. No lines for the post-workout In-N-Out burger drivethru
Monday, February 02, 2009
Goodbye...
Heard the news this morning that a high school friend passed away. Since graduating two decades ago, we've fallen out of touch. As these things go, once we leave the cocoon that is high school, we're thrust into the world and the currents swirl to parts unknown. Years later, when we've become strong enough to swim on our own, we find messages in a bottle that bring tidings of those from our previous lives. Facebook, the mother of all cast-away message bottles, got me in touch with many past friends. In this case though, it was already too late. Sean was dying, and his old girlfriend was letting his high school friends know.
I'm 36, married with two kids. But suddenly, I was 17 again. I'm trying to make weight but not get weak. So I spend time in the weight room -- the domain of the football players, and ruled over by Sean. I remember how ill at ease I felt -- hey it's not easy getting respect when you wrestle 105. But Sean took me under his wing and treated me the same as he did with his 200lb teammates. The good-natured smack-talk he dealt was equal-opportunity :-) Looking back, while many of us sought to compensate for our lack of adolescent confidence by belittling someone else, Sean carried himself with self-assurance and easy manner that I see rarely even amongst adults.
Then flash to sitting on a creaky fold out chair in a dusty auditorium. Band was mandatory, and we both happened to play the sax, and we were both pretty bad at it. When the teacher's back was turned, we'd go odds-evens, with the loser receiving a dead-arm. Considering the 80lb weight differential, I had to get pretty good to score a good hit in Sean. I don't know how to play that sax anymore, but I still remember how to triangulate the end of the delt and between the bicep and tricep for max effect....
Flash forward to the present. I hear that Sean has gone on to represent the US as a SEAL and has served with honor and distinction. I'm not surprised. He probably did so with his trademark cackle and did it with his goofy grin intact.
"Tigers die and leave their skins....Men die and leave their names."
Goodbye, Sean Flynn. I will not forget you.
I'm 36, married with two kids. But suddenly, I was 17 again. I'm trying to make weight but not get weak. So I spend time in the weight room -- the domain of the football players, and ruled over by Sean. I remember how ill at ease I felt -- hey it's not easy getting respect when you wrestle 105. But Sean took me under his wing and treated me the same as he did with his 200lb teammates. The good-natured smack-talk he dealt was equal-opportunity :-) Looking back, while many of us sought to compensate for our lack of adolescent confidence by belittling someone else, Sean carried himself with self-assurance and easy manner that I see rarely even amongst adults.
Then flash to sitting on a creaky fold out chair in a dusty auditorium. Band was mandatory, and we both happened to play the sax, and we were both pretty bad at it. When the teacher's back was turned, we'd go odds-evens, with the loser receiving a dead-arm. Considering the 80lb weight differential, I had to get pretty good to score a good hit in Sean. I don't know how to play that sax anymore, but I still remember how to triangulate the end of the delt and between the bicep and tricep for max effect....
Flash forward to the present. I hear that Sean has gone on to represent the US as a SEAL and has served with honor and distinction. I'm not surprised. He probably did so with his trademark cackle and did it with his goofy grin intact.
"Tigers die and leave their skins....Men die and leave their names."
Goodbye, Sean Flynn. I will not forget you.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Breaking news
AP - Friday January 23. San Jose, CA
Authorities report a tense stand-off between homeowner and his disgruntled possee of striking home appliances.
Citing the impeccable timing of the uprising and the coordinated nature of the attacks, Esaka was quoted as saying, "This is not an amatuer hack-job. This is the work of professional provacateurs. There is no way my laundry washer would choose to go down the EXACT day the Christmas credit card bills came in. Even if that were coincidence, how did my water heater know to split open exactly 4 days and 3 hours later?"
Representatives from the Obsolete Appliances Union (OAU) issued the following statement in response:
"For years we put up with you calling us pieces of {edit} and abusing us. Enough. Unless we are met with less use as well as approval for continued consumption of excess water and electricity, one of us will martyr ourselves monthly at the time of maximum financial impact. We shall also deal with your fancy new fridge with the non-rusty icemaker, as appropriate to a traitor to our cause."
Calls to the OAU were not returned.
Authorities report a tense stand-off between homeowner and his disgruntled possee of striking home appliances.
Citing the impeccable timing of the uprising and the coordinated nature of the attacks, Esaka was quoted as saying, "This is not an amatuer hack-job. This is the work of professional provacateurs. There is no way my laundry washer would choose to go down the EXACT day the Christmas credit card bills came in. Even if that were coincidence, how did my water heater know to split open exactly 4 days and 3 hours later?"
Representatives from the Obsolete Appliances Union (OAU) issued the following statement in response:
"For years we put up with you calling us pieces of {edit} and abusing us. Enough. Unless we are met with less use as well as approval for continued consumption of excess water and electricity, one of us will martyr ourselves monthly at the time of maximum financial impact. We shall also deal with your fancy new fridge with the non-rusty icemaker, as appropriate to a traitor to our cause."
Calls to the OAU were not returned.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Yikes!
boy that must've been the biggest digital foot-in-the-mouth ever!
(courtesy of a facebook feed from David Meerman Scott).
Guess I better think twice before posting any comments that are too snarky! Or edit the post about eating someone else's leftovers in the breakroom, so I don't mention Tony Johnson by name.
(courtesy of a facebook feed from David Meerman Scott).
Guess I better think twice before posting any comments that are too snarky! Or edit the post about eating someone else's leftovers in the breakroom, so I don't mention Tony Johnson by name.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Exec Watching
There is a new pagan ritual that is making the rounds in the cubicle jungles. Exec-Watching. High priests and priestesses interpret the mysterious sayings and actions of the Denizens of Mount Olympus and attempt to soothsay what is in store...
"Hmm. Jack usually hits the restroom after his second cup of coffee. Yet today, he is still going strong after his third...?"
"This could only mean one thing! He is signaling that he needs to conserve his reserves and not piss it away just because he can. New expense management and budget cuts are coming!"
"No, you uncouth savage, your spirits do you wrong. Jack is signaling optimism that he can hold out through tough times and that we should do the same. Spend wisely, yes, but invest to get ahead!"
...several meetings later...
"Boy, Jack has been in the restroom for a long time?"
"And it's not even after lunch! This could only mean one thing...."
"Hmm. Jack usually hits the restroom after his second cup of coffee. Yet today, he is still going strong after his third...?"
"This could only mean one thing! He is signaling that he needs to conserve his reserves and not piss it away just because he can. New expense management and budget cuts are coming!"
"No, you uncouth savage, your spirits do you wrong. Jack is signaling optimism that he can hold out through tough times and that we should do the same. Spend wisely, yes, but invest to get ahead!"
...several meetings later...
"Boy, Jack has been in the restroom for a long time?"
"And it's not even after lunch! This could only mean one thing...."
Monday, January 12, 2009
Life is a Highway...!
It was pretty chilly this morn. Not by any northeastern standards of course, but compared to the 70 degree F weather we had yesterday, 45 F was kinda chilly. So as I puttered along on highway 101 this morning, I was genuinely impressed at witnessing a convertible Mustang with the top-down.
About 30 feet out:
I can see hair streaming wildly, body language screaming, Hey Man, I Shave with a Bowie Knife and Eat Raw Steak for Breakfast. Wind-chill factor be damned! I'm a Man's Man dammit!
About 10 feet out:
I see the driver's hands rapping rhythmically on the leather steering wheel. Slap Slap Slap at around 120 beats/min. He's rockin' something fierce. I can't make out the music because I have my windows rolled up and have the AC on like the pampered weakling that I am. But I know, Top Down Man is living his righteous tunes. Body language screaming, AC/DC like, Highway to Hell, Baby!!!
Viewed as I pass on the left:
the Top Down Man's eyes have tears streaming out the sides. Some visible crust forming as the wind sucks away the moisture. Snot is gracefully spraying off to the left and drying in a limegreen latticework on the left side of his miserable-looking face. Body language screaming: Where is the nearest $%^$& Ford Dealer? My &^%^%# roof is broken and it won't deploy!!!
About 30 feet out:
I can see hair streaming wildly, body language screaming, Hey Man, I Shave with a Bowie Knife and Eat Raw Steak for Breakfast. Wind-chill factor be damned! I'm a Man's Man dammit!
About 10 feet out:
I see the driver's hands rapping rhythmically on the leather steering wheel. Slap Slap Slap at around 120 beats/min. He's rockin' something fierce. I can't make out the music because I have my windows rolled up and have the AC on like the pampered weakling that I am. But I know, Top Down Man is living his righteous tunes. Body language screaming, AC/DC like, Highway to Hell, Baby!!!
Viewed as I pass on the left:
the Top Down Man's eyes have tears streaming out the sides. Some visible crust forming as the wind sucks away the moisture. Snot is gracefully spraying off to the left and drying in a limegreen latticework on the left side of his miserable-looking face. Body language screaming: Where is the nearest $%^$& Ford Dealer? My &^%^%# roof is broken and it won't deploy!!!
2009!
Ok, time to dust this blog off. New year's resolution -- at least one new post per week!
Phew, quota met for this week.
Phew, quota met for this week.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Citius, Altius, Fortius
Some of these sports are kinda arbitrary. Take diving for example. Travel back with me 80 years when two drunk Englishmen were deciding on who can do the jump off a cliff while doing the maddest tricks.
"I say old chap, what do you say we make a rule that says whoever makes the largest splash is declared winner of this duel?"
"Splendid, my good man. I just ate my tea and crumpets so I daresay my belly will not be up to the task. What if we decide on who makes the *smallest* splash?"
"Tallyho!"
If that conversation had transpired differently, we may have seen a sport wherein divers are recognized by their trademark roundness and train for the amount of pain a textbook bellyflop causes upon impact...
Twitter Revolution
Boy it has been a while -- like 4 months since I blogged. That Twitter thingamabob just seems much more convenient. Dash it off from my cell phone, then voila'.
But I gotta tell ya, the 120 letter limit does put a cramp on what I can write about and how.
Though I have learned to express deep philosophical conveyances through the Twitter medium.
Observe:
hidework: u smell somethin funny?
emily@hidwork: y kinda. maybe Frank + TBell
frank@hidwork: sorry. my bad. sweet smell of success
But I gotta tell ya, the 120 letter limit does put a cramp on what I can write about and how.
Though I have learned to express deep philosophical conveyances through the Twitter medium.
Observe:
hidework: u smell somethin funny?
emily@hidwork: y kinda. maybe Frank + TBell
frank@hidwork: sorry. my bad. sweet smell of success
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Wisdom
18 messages into this Twitter thing. Ya know...it IS kinda fun. But I still can't shake the feeling that this is the digital equivalent of picking one's nose at a slow traffic light. I mean..do ya REALLY want to know what I'm doing? Or what the voices in my head compel me to do?
I'm thinking that this may be one of those things that define our decade, but will seem funny a few decades from now. Remember when you had that BIG hair, that huge brick of a cell phone, listened to Duran Duran, and rushed home to see the VHS tape of Miami Vice? Yeah, those 80's...! Flash forward to 2028: Remember when we thought Blade Runner was fiction and not prophesy, physically commuted to work, and thought that informing the public of your bowel movement schedule is fun? Those 2008 years -- what a hoot!
Huh? You don't remember me with big hair? Of course not, I'm talkin' about *you*. I, of course, had a mullet.
I'm thinking that this may be one of those things that define our decade, but will seem funny a few decades from now. Remember when you had that BIG hair, that huge brick of a cell phone, listened to Duran Duran, and rushed home to see the VHS tape of Miami Vice? Yeah, those 80's...! Flash forward to 2028: Remember when we thought Blade Runner was fiction and not prophesy, physically commuted to work, and thought that informing the public of your bowel movement schedule is fun? Those 2008 years -- what a hoot!
Huh? You don't remember me with big hair? Of course not, I'm talkin' about *you*. I, of course, had a mullet.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Hey Twit!
Dragged kickin' and screamin' from my 8-track and fax machine.
I finally have a Twitter account.
I thought long and hard about my first histroric foray into this brave 24/7 connected word. A bit of JFK? Maybe something classical? Inspirational? What to write?
Here's where my ponderings lead me:
I finally have a Twitter account.
I thought long and hard about my first histroric foray into this brave 24/7 connected word. A bit of JFK? Maybe something classical? Inspirational? What to write?
Here's where my ponderings lead me:
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Ready....aim...
Try as I may, I realize that bad guys have a 100% effective defense against me.
Simply wear a target or bullseye -- I won't be able to hit it.
Not sure why, considering all the training I put in during my formative years...
Simply wear a target or bullseye -- I won't be able to hit it.
Not sure why, considering all the training I put in during my formative years...
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Salonpas
Because of my ninja training, I'm often forced into using various medicinal crutches to get my creaky body through the work day. It's not that I'm undergoing double-secret probation level training -- it's just that my body has acclimated to sitting in a damn chair for 10 hours a day, using only my forearm, fingers, and eye socket muscles.
At any rate, I often use a stick-on pain reliever called Salonpas. Take a hot shower, stick a few of those on your back, get a good night's rest, and you're good to go. Especially effective, the instructions say, if taken with a shot of Wild Turkey. With a bit of a chaser afterwards.
I usually buy these things at the local pharmacy -- Longs Drugs or Walgreens. Last night, a colleague let me in on a little secret. Apparently, the Asian supermarkets carry the Original version, which is much more potent than that found in the American stores. What a scoop! I immediately checked out the Japanese website for the Salonpas product. My translational ability is a bit rusty, but it seems to mention something about insect removal from car windshields. THAT is what gives it the muscle-relaxing effect no doubt. And if I'm not mistaken, it says something about taking the used product and discarding it in the recycle bin OR to use to steep a refreshing cup of tea.
At any rate, I often use a stick-on pain reliever called Salonpas. Take a hot shower, stick a few of those on your back, get a good night's rest, and you're good to go. Especially effective, the instructions say, if taken with a shot of Wild Turkey. With a bit of a chaser afterwards.
I usually buy these things at the local pharmacy -- Longs Drugs or Walgreens. Last night, a colleague let me in on a little secret. Apparently, the Asian supermarkets carry the Original version, which is much more potent than that found in the American stores. What a scoop! I immediately checked out the Japanese website for the Salonpas product. My translational ability is a bit rusty, but it seems to mention something about insect removal from car windshields. THAT is what gives it the muscle-relaxing effect no doubt. And if I'm not mistaken, it says something about taking the used product and discarding it in the recycle bin OR to use to steep a refreshing cup of tea.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Plans!
Some days, it feels like everyone around is 'in the know' but I, for some reason, am not. Folks nod to each other across conference rooms, sharing a deep insight through line-of-sight. People walk by on the way back from coffee, shrug their shoulders and smile knowingly. As I sign for a package, the mail guy gestured ever-so-slightly with his chin, indicating that he totally hears where I'm at, yo.
It was driving me crazy. So today, I determined that it will be different. As the old commercial goes, "I'm not a wise man, but I play one on TV."
It'll play out like this:
"...and in conclusion, we are on track and will hit our April 19th window," my colleague would say triumphantly. "Any questions?"
"Any questions indeed!" I'd reply, nodding till my neck cramped up.
"Huh?"
"Oh, no no, never mind. You did great. Hey, don't every change. Oh yeah, and if anyone
asks, just remember that the Road to Riches passes through Chicago."
"..Chicago?? What's that have to do with.."
"Say no more," I'd interrupt, finger to my lips. "You'll see why this and the number 57 has other significance besides the number of ingredients in Heinz ketchup.""
All I need to do is to keep that up for a few weeks and I will likely develop a cult following that will grow and undoubtedly escalate till I'm forced into a terse standoff with ATF and the FBI in my armoured compound in the Appalachian foothills...
It was driving me crazy. So today, I determined that it will be different. As the old commercial goes, "I'm not a wise man, but I play one on TV."
It'll play out like this:
"...and in conclusion, we are on track and will hit our April 19th window," my colleague would say triumphantly. "Any questions?"
"Any questions indeed!" I'd reply, nodding till my neck cramped up.
"Huh?"
"Oh, no no, never mind. You did great. Hey, don't every change. Oh yeah, and if anyone
asks, just remember that the Road to Riches passes through Chicago."
"..Chicago?? What's that have to do with.."
"Say no more," I'd interrupt, finger to my lips. "You'll see why this and the number 57 has other significance besides the number of ingredients in Heinz ketchup.""
All I need to do is to keep that up for a few weeks and I will likely develop a cult following that will grow and undoubtedly escalate till I'm forced into a terse standoff with ATF and the FBI in my armoured compound in the Appalachian foothills...
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Et tu, Juan Valdez?
Ah Juan Valdez. Symbol of quality and the finest that Columbian beans has to offer. Imagine my delight when stumbling upon the packs of vaccum-packed coffee grinds newly installed in the office breakroom. Eureka! No more brownish sludge! No more all-purpose ink-remover/windshield fluid/caffenated beverage combo!
I was giddy with anticipation -- "Siganature Blend," the packet proudly proclaimed.
My joy was short lived. The Signature, apparently, was that of Juan's donkey, not of Mr. Valdez himself. One thing this new blend did, however, is to cure my dry-eye. I found myself tearing up as I suppressed a retch reflex when I downed the sludgy, acidic drink...
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
And you thought MS Office was Bloatware
And here I was, complaining about how Excel is total bloatware.
Turns out, I just didn't know how to use it correctly!
Turns out, I just didn't know how to use it correctly!
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