kapgar

Do you see what I see...

At work yesterday, the graphic designer (GD) and I were checking out a photo collage. We were trying to figure out who from a particular group was missing and if we had any photos in our archives we could use to fill in the blanks.

We found one photo for a guy that piqued our curiosity.

GD: Gah! Kevin, you have to come check this out.

Me: What?

GD: It looks like there is another person in this photo with him.

Me: Oh cool! Yeah, there's his eye and his nose.

GD: That's just creepy.

Me: I'm going to darken it and increase the contrast in Photoshop to see if that makes it any clearer.

By the time I finish, another coworker has joined our examination of the photo. I'll call him B&B.

B&B: That's pretty sweet. I wonder if he's being haunted? Maybe we should send the photo to CSI.

Me: I think Cold Case might be a better fit.

GD: Look at that spot on the ghost's head. Bullet wound?

Me: Totally.

B&B: Suicide.

Me: Nah, not fun enough.

GD: And there's even a mottled spot on the main guy's collar that you can see if you look closely.

Me: I think that's a blood stain from when he murdered this other guy by shooting him in the head and then tried to wash it out.

B&B: Oooh a duel!

Me: Yeah, like Hamilton and Burr. He's a rival or something. So he snuffed him out.

B&B: We need a third person in this story line.

Me: His wife. The ghost guy was sleeping with the main guy's wife so he murdered him in a vengeful fury. Assassination all the way!

GD: And now he's haunted by his spirit forever. I wonder if any other photos of him have this ghost behind him.

Me: Damn I wish we had more photos to look at. This is so cool.

B&B: You two have way too overactive an imagination. You're actually enjoying this.

Me: Yeah, this coming from you. You're having just as much fun as we are. So can you blame us?

B&B: No, not really.

To the family of the guy in the photo... this is just us having fun. No, we do not really think your ancestor murdered someone or that his wife was screwing around on him or that he was haunted by a spirit.

Unless you have evidence to the contrary, of course.

I can cheat you blind...

A little more than two months ago, new hand sanitizer dispensers were installed in each and every office at work.

The dispensers resemble spheres that are approximately seven inches in diameter (I think). The bottom half is opaque plastic while the top half is transparent plastic. Inside the sphere is a transparent plastic pouch in which the sanitizer is held. Basically, you just put your hands under the dispenser and it automatically outputs a predetermined amount of sanitizer.

At first, people were pretty weirded out by them.

For one, they tend to drip a little on the floor underneath where they're installed. The fear was that this could either result in slick spots on smooth floors or discolored carpeting.

Then, of course, there was the fact that the pouches in the sphere look like a saline breast implant. Yeah, I've watched Nip/Tuck, I know what they look like. However, people were even able to get over that.

Now, people have adapted to them. Some have even gone so far as to give them some personality by customizing them. They do this by popping off the upper dome and taping images inside them as though it were some twisted little picture frame.

At first, I thought it was pretty stupid. People were doing some odd, and incredibly unfunny, things to them.

Then I heard from someone in one department that they had put in a picture of the northern hemisphere of Earth. When I heard this, I became inspired. I had to compete and come up with something cooler.

But, being me, it had to have a little touch of, well, "me." This, of course, translates to "creepy" or otherwise "odd." Hence why I came up with...

I can't wait to hear my coworkers' responses.

I'm on my way, I'm makin' it...

And what to make of something that happened to me yesterday at work.

I was just about to leave with my coworker for my final meeting of the day. I heard her saying hi to someone in the lobby of our office so I knew I had a few extra seconds to finish getting stuff together.

When I stepped out of my office into the lobby, the visitor looks at me and says, "and you're Kevin Apgar."

Me: Umm... yeah.

John Doe (J.D.): I'm John Doe. I'm a reporter for XYZ Newspaper.

Me: Oh, hi. Nice to meet you.

[I'm still wondering how he knew who I was. It wasn't as though my job made some grand media announcement of my arrival.]

J.D.: And I read your blog.

My Co-Worker (MyCW): You have a blog?

Me: It was in my resumé.

MyCW: Like I read every site that was in your resumé.

Me: Okay, I'll grant you that.

J.D.: He's a really good writer. Very funny and never snide. If I had a bigger budget, I'd hire him as a full-time blogger for the paper.

[cha-ching goes the mental cash register]

Me: No complaints.

[a few more back-and-forth comments for another minute or so that I can't quite recall]

J.D.: Well, hey, it was nice to meet you.

Me: Nice to meet you, too. [to MyCW as we're walking away] That was different.

MyCW: He's a really nice guy.

J.D.: [calling after us] By the way, say hi to Katie!

Me: Will do!

MyCW: [to me] Woah.

Me: Yep. He's a reader.

That's something that I, even in my wildest dreams, never imagined would happen. My first random fan off the streets! Woo hoo!

[Disclaimer: this isn't a word-for-word transcription of the conversation. I just stated the key parts as well as I could remember them. It's been half a day and it's really early right now... cut me some slack.]

I ain't missin' not a single thing...

Either I'm the world's most prepared worker bee or I'm on the verge of a professional meltdown.

Yesterday, I wore the infamous green shirt and tie combo to work (yes, I realize you ladies dig it and I am only too happy to oblige you). Afer a while, I decided to shed the tie so I took it off, folded it, and went to put it in my bag.

When I opened my bag, I found two other ties folded and neatly placed in a side pocket. Combine this with the one or two ties I found in my truck and it makes you start to wonder if I'm preparing for a professional man's apocalypse. Or perhaps I'm a pupil in the P. Diddy Appearance Management Institute?

Whatever the case may be, I do know I'd damn well better remember to unload my bag before I wind up toting around a veritable wardrobe.

Bear in mind that I've only been at this new job for just under a month now.

My God, how long until I'm keeping changes of clothes in my office? Gah!

'Cause I'm easy...

I’m a marketing genius!

A bold claim, I know. But allow me to justify this statement.

For the last couple days at work, I’ve been fiddling as a free moment arises with a piece of software I found in my computer’s program menu. It’s a little doozy called Adobe LiveCycle Designer (or Adobe Designer, for short) and is intended to assist in the process of creating interactive PDF forms using XML as a base.

Since I have a few forms I needed to develop and had been curious about how best to create an interactive PDF, I decided to give it a whirl.

And whirl I did… my head, that is.

After two days of intermittent messing around with Designer, I finally got one of these forms done. My eyes are bleeding, my head is throbbing, and my right hand is spasming from all the subtle nudges and shifts I made to the layout.

This experience has led me to coin what I feel should be the company’s new slogan…

No one mourns the wicked...

Have you ever had your IT department “commandeer” your computer? For many, this may not be that big a deal. But for me, it was the strangest, most surreal thing I’ve experienced in my years of working with computers. And it’s something that has never happened to me before… until yesterday.

Someone from my IT department called me on the phone saying they needed to use my computer to show someone else how to do something. I asked if they would be coming up here. She kind of giggled and said no, that she would do it from her computer.

All of a sudden, my desktop wallpaper changed to the Windows default and a cursor that was certainly not mine started opening files and windows and programs and doing all kinds of other cool little things and I was just sitting back like a kid on a roller coaster.

When all was said and done, I simply said “wicked” in the phone to her. She thanked me and we hung up.

A few minutes later, she called me back.

IT Woman: Are you from New England?

Me: I lived there for a couple years. How’d you know?

IT Woman: You said “wicked.”

Me: That’s a New England thing?

IT Woman: Up there, it’s “wicked” this and “wicked” that. Where’d you live?

Me: Bristol, Connecticut.

IT Woman: Yep, makes sense.

Not only can she seemingly possess my computer, but she can tell where I lived based on a single-word utterance.

I shall never question the abilities of IT people. Ever.

It's been one week...

Okay, maybe not a full week, per se. But it's the end of what constitutes my first calendar week at my new job and I'd like to share a little of what I've learned.

• When starting a first week, never take a lunch of your own. You will likely be going out to meals with your new co-workers.
• If you have a comfortable shirt with a well-sized neck, ties are quite comfortable. I'm digging them.
• When they say "Casual Fridays," you can probably take them at their word. If I had, I would've worn jeans and a polo on Friday instead of swapping my tie for a sweater and thinking that was "casual." Jeans at work... oh, how I've missed thee.
• Getting accustomed to a file structure set up by someone else is not easy. I'm still swimming trying to find things.
• Have a load of alcohol wipes around to give an initial clean up to keyboards, mice, phones, desk, etc. You'll thank me later. And, no, I'm not a germaphobe.
• Don't be afraid to ask questions.
• Don't expect to remember names or faces of all those 100+ people you are introduced to on the first day. Your head will explode if you even try.
• But do take time to talk to those who work in your office and the offices immediately surrounding yours. You'll be working with or, at least, seeing them every day. Get in good early.
• Water cooler talk is cool. Well, it's actually coffee talk for us. No water cooler, but lots of coffee pots.
• When you're a Cub fan working in an office of White Sox fans, it's best to just shut up. If asked, say you're a Bears fan. You can never go wrong as a Bears fan.

Clean shirt, new shoes

First day on the new job. Some say I clean up well. What do you think? Am I bringin' sexy back or what?

We're a happy family...

I'm not sure how many of you remember my work buddy, G. Well, he sent me this e-mail on my final day of work here at AU...

Two friends were walking through the desert. During some point in the journey, they had an argument and one friend slapped the other one in the face.

The one who got slapped was hurt, but without saying anything, wrote in the sand:

Today, my best friends slapped me in the face.

They kept on walking until they found an oasis, where they decided to take a bath.

The one who had been slapped got stuck in the mire and started drowning, but the friend saved him.

After he recovered from the near drowning, he wrote on a stone:

Today, my best friend saved my life.

The friend who had slapped and saved his best friend asked him, "After I hurt you, you wrote in the sand and now, you write on a stone, why?"

The other friend replied, "When someone hurts us, we should write it down in sand where winds of forgiveness can erase it away. But when someone does something good for us, we must engrave it in stone where no wind can ever erase it."

I was actually touched and feeling a slight tinge of emotion. Until, that is, I read the next couple sentences that he wrote...

And after I write your name on a stone, I shall throw it at your head for leaving AU. :) You will be missed, but I am still going to bug your ass by writing you at your personal email!!! See you later...

G

Smart ass.

But I'll miss ya, G.

And I'll miss a bunch of other people as well.

This is really happening, isn't it?

A whole lotta shakin' goin' on...

Something I have found entirely amusing this week is how a person spends his or her last few days on the job. Being that this is the first real job I have "left" since graduating, this is all a new experience for me.

I had anticipated just cranking out project after project for people to make sure it's all done before I leave. I figured there was no way in hell I would see the outside of my office or get my butt off my chair.

Instead how is it being spent?

Well, yes, I am working on a bunch of projects, but not nearly as many as I had figured. Plus I've been picking up and dropping off a golf cart for use by a professional photographer on campus this week. I've been supervising a few of his shoots. I've gone out to lunch with a friend (we'd been trying to plan a lunch for two years now; my leaving kinda forced the issue a bit). I'm constantly stopping to talk with coworkers across campus. I've had meetings with HR. I've abused the golf cart privelege to go pick up a pregnant coworker at her car a couple times so she doesn't have to walk. I think the few of us that are in the office today may even be going to buy Oberweis ice cream or milkshakes later today.

Weird, unexpected stuff like that.

It's been a strange, yet wonderfully diverse, week here at work.

I believe it's time for me to fly...

One of the worst things about leaving this job is the fact that I've gotta move out of my office.

I do not have a cubicle like so many other people. Technically, what I have doesn't even constitute a traditional office, per se. I have a room that was built into a garage in a home across the street from campus. It's a strange setup, but it works. And, more importantly, it's all mine.

The fact that it's been "all mine" for six years now lends itself to a whole other problem... I've collected myriad bits of personal garbage in this place.

I'm not Ryan the Temp from The Office who can grab his suit jacket, walk out, and be done with Dunder Mifflin-Scranton at a moment's notice. No no. I have so much crap in here that it has been taking me the better part of the last week to slowly move stuff out.

The Beatles' "Abbey Road" framed poster I had in college that has no place in our home decorating scheme?

In my office

The "Apgar for Mayor" sign that my brother and I stole from some small town in Florida where someone with the same last name as us ran for and won the mayoral seat?

In my office

My 6' x 4' Al Pacino as Scarface subway poster that some student left behind while I was a hall director?

In my office

The bookshelf and ottoman that Katie and I so love but cannot find room for in our townhouse?

In my office

As well as years worth of toys, trinkets, tchotchkes, etc., etc., ad infinitum

Well, you get the point.

And even worse than moving out is watching as my office gradually empties itself. I currently have nothing on the walls save for the bulletin boards that are permanent fixtures. My desk has one of the normal three framed pictures of Katie and me. My wall shelves are empty minus the few books that are actually property of the university. And my only toys remaining are the Superman figure that has adorned every work space I've inhabited since I bought him in college and the Beanie Baby polar bear that Katie bought me soon after I got this job (his name is Aurora and I work at Aurora University; appropriate, no?).

I figure I'll move some more of this out over the next couple days. My goal is to walk out of here with my jacket, bag, and Harmon Killebrew baseball bat slung over my shoulder.

But, it's just really sad to see six years slowly decimating to nothing.

Workspace bulimia... the binge and purge of office decorating, as it were.

My life got flipped, turned upside down...

If only I can convince my heart to stop beating so fast...

And calm my breathing...

And untwist my stomach (whilst expelling all the butterflies from said organ)...

Then perhaps I can tell you about how I just turned in my two weeks notice at work.

Yeah, believe it or not, I'm throwing myself to the wolves. I'm shedding the security blanket I've amassed at my current job. I'm throwing my life into flux.

I applied for, interviewed with, and was asked last week to join a new company. I don't want to go into any real details about who suffice it to say that I'll be taking what I know now and building heavily upon that knowledge base.

While it's exciting as hell and I'm being given a great opportunity to learn new things and work with a great bunch of people, it doesn't make me any less freaked out. The job I'm in now is my first real job since I graduated with my master's degree. I've been there just a bit longer than six years; that's almost 20% of my life. It's become comfortable. It's dependable. I know I will still have that job each morning.

I was offered the new job last Friday and told Katie about it. We went out for a very nice dinner to celebrate (gotta love ahi tuna). I was in the clouds just floating above myself the whole time. And my elation was rubbing off on Katie. I had a permagrin stuck on my face that nothing could wipe away.

Until, that is, the next day, when I realized I was going to have to give my two weeks notice to my boss. Just as quickly, I became removed from reality, but not quite in a positive way. I was zoning out and staring off into space and the organs that were not busy conspiring to make me vomit wanted to revolt against what they knew my brain and mouth would be doing in a couple days' time.

Now that it's all over, I still feel sick to my stomach, but I know it was the right thing to do. It's a great opportunity both for me professionally and for Katie and I personally.

Wish me luck.

And antacid.

I'm takin' what they're givin'...

I would like to make a recommendation should any of you currently work in or plan on sometime soon working in the area of higher education... never, ever, under any circumstances whatsoever, take a sick day during Homecoming Week.

I don't care if you're dying. Show up anyway.

My first day back after being out yesterday with the flu has been so hectic, it's absolutely unbelievable.

I'm running everywhere, doing everything. I'm moving so much, going to the gym is the last thing on my mind. I don't think I've ever been as busy as I was today.

You know the proverbial "chicken with his head cut off"? He has it easy.

But I've gotten a lot done, which is a good thing.

Trash, don't try to take my life away...

"Waste"ing my life away
I chugged my last few sips of Mountain Dew in a single gulp, screwed the cap on the bottle, grabbed my novel du jour and cellphone, and got up to leave my favorite reading nook after my lunch break ended.

Despite it not being my means of entry to the building, I always seem to exit through a side door. Perhaps it has something to do with the location of the door relative to my office. No, that couldn't be it or I would use this door as my entrance as well.

Whatever my internal justification, I went through my exit of choice and veered a couple steps out of my way to dispose of my now-empty 20-ounce bottle of liquid energy in the nearest waste receptacle.

The spring-loaded door, angled up and away from the domed lid of the garbage can, had something small, round, and grey pinned in it. Sticking from the greyish sphere was a nearly two-inch-long cylinder speckled in orange and white.

Lovely, I thought as I stepped nearer to the wastebasket. Some idiot is too lazy to make sure their garbage is all the way in the can.

I raised my foot to take another step closer when the mystery object spun toward me. My eyes, if not completely awake before, were now in a state beyond mere alertness. They focused on the landfill-bound anomaly. And, as my foot set ground to finish the step I was taking, the whole of the enigmatic subject flew out of the garbage can.

It was a squirrel.

With a baby carrot.

Clearly enjoying his lunch break.

At the expense of my heart rate.

I may reconsider my exit strategy.

2,996
Just a reminder that I am taking part in the soon-to-go-live 2,996 project courtesy of D.C. Roe. After weighing all the press inquiries he has received, D.C. has asked that some of us consider posting ahead of time so the media has some examples they can use for articles. I don't want to post too early, so I will probably publish my tribute on Sunday, one day before the fifth anniversary of 9/11.

As I recall, also taking part are Sizzle, Hilly, and Bec. If anyone else is taking part, please speak up in the comments.

Stay tuned for it.

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Latest Fun With Dead Trees review - The Ruins: A Novel by Scott Smith reviewed by yours truly. Claire's on fire having added three more reviews in as many days. Check out Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking by Malcolm Gladwell, On Bullshit by Harry Frankfurt, and The Ongoing Moment by Geoff Dyer.

As I've said before, FWDT is always looking for more guest reviewers. If you're a reader and you'd like to contribute, just e-mail me and I'll tell you what you need to do.

There are things that I don't want to learn...

This is so strange for me.

My work Mac has been having some issues lately, so, after a few weeks of working things out with IT, it is finally being shipped out to have repairs performed.

No, I'm not badmouthing Mac despite all the problems I've been enduring the last several months. I taxed my work Mac to the nth degree and I'm really not at all surprised it decided to crap out on me. The problems had been building for a while, but I just did not want to send it back and have to deal with using my Windows box all the time. Despite the problems I've had with my Mac, I still opted to use it over the PC anytime I possibly could. However, the three-year AppleCare plan was coming dangerously close to expiring, so it was time to bite the bullet and send it out.

What does surprise me is how difficult it is for me to adapt back to using my Windows box. Instead of just using it for Web design, I'm now using it for all the things I once did on my Mac such as Office work, Web browsing, Webmail, et al. When it comes to the bulk of my graphic design work, I will now have to use an alternate Mac in the office thus killing my tendency to just wheel back and forth between computers and working on multiple projects simultaneously (I'm the ultimate computer multitasker).

I realize that many things, such as Office and Firefox should function at least close to similarly on both Mac and Windows. I am here to tell you that this is NOT the case. On the surface, they seem the same, but, after using it on one platform as opposed to another for as long as I have, it can be very difficult to reacclimate to the other. Something as simple as a keyboard shortcut needs to be relearned. And it's shocking how long it's taking me to figure things out.

And, of course, I will only have to go back and reteach myself when the Mac comes back from the shop. Thankfully, I won't forget it all entirely as I still have my beauty of a Mac at home. At least I have that going for me right now.

So who will be first to name the song that this post title comes from?

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I would also like to inform you of a couple minor changes I've implemented over the course of the last week or so.

First, I've disabled TrackBacks. They were getting pretty pointless. I always told myself that when TrackBack spam exceeded the number of legitimate TrackBacks I received, I would kill it. Well, that time came. I think TrackBacks are still enabled for older posts, but you won't be able to on any newer ones. Sorry. Just no meaningful purpose.

Second, I've enabled e-mail authentication on comments. This only means that if you want to leave a comment, you will have to enter an e-mail address in the comment form. No big deal for most of you. You already do it anyway. But I want to know that all comments from people I don't immediately recognize are legit as well. If you don't want to leave your real e-mail for fear of webspiders collecting them, e-mail me and let me know and we'll figure something out so you can still comment.

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Latest Fun With Dead Trees review - I need to welcome new guest reviewer Claire of Taller Than Average Tales who chimes in with her review of My Life So Far by Jane Fonda.

It's a bitch alright...

You. heinous. bitch.

With that brief statement, I officially declare war against the bookstore at the College of DuPage (COD) in Glen Ellyn, IL.

I am taking a class starting tomorrow at UCLA (the University Closest to the Lombard Area) for my job. It should be a fun class (CSS and advanced HTML) and I look forward to taking it.

However, being a day away (well, a few days away at the time this incident actually occurred), I figured it's probably a good time to buy my book. So I looked on eFollett.com (Cod State's online presence) and found that my book is Patrick Carey's New Perspectives on HTML and XHTML, Comprehensive. eFollett had it listed for $67.50 new and $51.00 used.

Being the bargain shopper I am, I immediately went to Amazon.com, among others, to comparison shop. I'm sorry, but textbooks are a ridiculous amount of money that I don't believe for one second they warrant. So, any deal I can find on textbooks, I intend to take. If it's a book for personal reading, yeah, I'll buy from an independent book seller if at all possible. But textbooks are just painful in their pricing scheme. And I use the word "scheme" intentionally.

This is where I ran into a problem. eFollett said that my class required the 4th edition. Amazon didn't have theirs labeled as a 4th edition. In fact, Amazon only had a single edition available and it wasn't exactly easy to determine what the edition number was (a problem I have constantly with Amazon and they really need to work on it).

So I called Fish U's bookstore directly and asked if they could provide me with the ISBN number. The guy who answered said that he is not allowed to give ISBNs out over the phone. I completely understand why and half expected him to say this. They don't do it because they want you to buy from them and don't want to facilitate your comparison shopping whatsoever. He said I would have to come into the store to check it out myself.

I asked if I could speak to a manager. He huffed and then got the Divine Miss A.

Where have all the cowboys gone...

Let me tell you, there's nothing like going on a vacation to make you feel better about yourself at work.

An odd thought, I know. But allow me to explain as my theory has twofold support.

1. The lead-up to the start of your actual vacation is a test of your ability to perform your job both effectively and efficiently
Nobody wants to leave work for a vacation with a ton of projects stacked up on their desk. The reason behind this is because you know they are there and will be waiting for your eventual return from whatever pseudo paradise you are visiting. And it will bug you the entire time you are supposed to be "relaxing."

Admittedly, the projects are probably going to pile up in your absence anyway. But what you don't know can't hurt you. You don't know what projects or how many or how in depth they will be. So you may as well not even worry about them. They are non-entities, simply put.

But the projects you already know about and should be working on are the ones that'll bug you. You know what needs to be done and how long it should take you to do them. You also know that you probably should have gotten them done before you left.

However, if you are able to leave work the day before your vacation with a relatively clean desk, this is a good thing. It's a very good thing.

If you can achieve this standard, give yourself a pat on the back and have an extra few drinks at the hotel bar. You deserve it!

2. When people in other departments find out you are going to be gone, they freak out.
I'm not kidding about this. I've told several people I am going to be out of the office next week. Quite a few of them are reacting with "oh! I... I... really need your help on this. Guess I'd better get you the data sooner."

Granted this can backfire in terms of last-second projects that need to be completed before going, it does feel good to realize just how much you are needed and will be missed. It can also bite you in the rear when it comes time to request vacation days, but you deal with those problems as they rear their ugly heads.

But when that coworker infers to you how much you'll be missed, it's the ultimate pat on the back, let me tell you.

Just pray they haven't replaced you with "Bob" from the temp agency when you get back.

And you may ask yourself, how do I work this...

Somebody remind me... I am a Web designer, right? That's what I do for a living, isn't it? I think my business card... yep, it says "Web Developer."

So why am I drawing a complete blank when it comes to some basic HTML coding?

Over the last few years, I've become so accustomed to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets) and the terminology that it employs, that I've begun to take its benefits for granted. Whether I'm handcoding the CSS or relying on WYSIWYG editors like Dreamweaver to autocode it for me, it's been my language of choice when it comes to encoding text-related aspects of Web design.

Yesterday, however, I needed to write the code for an HTML e-mail that is going to be sent out by an advertiser. They told me that it would work best if I just designed the e-mail in Dreamweaver as a webpage, have it approved, and send the code to them to drop in their mail program.

Their one caveat, however, was that I not use CSS anywhere in the code.

I never realized what a pain in the butt this request would become until I tried to remind myself how to code a font family and relative font sizes within the actual body of the HTML. These are things that CSS has taken care of on my behalf for years.

For the life of me, I could not remember how to do it. I couldn't remember the phraseology that HTML uses. It's almost the same as CSS, but just different enough that it escaped me. It is some of the most basic code that Web developers use, but it eluded me today for reasons unknown.

I actually dug up my copy of Timothy Gottleber's Excellent HTML -- the very book I used when I first began to learn Web design eight years ago in grad school. The pages of this book have not seen the light of day since that particular class.

As foolish as I may have felt keeping this on my bookshelf at work all these years, right about now I'm glad I did.

All you professional designers out there, go ahead and laugh. I deserve it.

This is just one of those brainfart sorts of days.

Well my mind is gettin' dirty, yeah, around eleven thirty...

The conversation between G and me continued late into the week. Of course, we veered away from the topic of my domain registration in Hell to one a bit closer to home.

As a note, this is pretty typical of the two of us when we get on e-mail.

Me [in reference to the fact I just posted his revised Web page]: "It's up."

G: "Excuse me?!?!?! That is between you and your lovely wife."

Me: "I never realized this was a problem for you. I can give you tips. Really it's not nearly as difficult as your life may have made it out to be. Stand strong, little camper! We'll fix your... er... wagon."

G: "I didn't say I am jealous... I just said that was TMI. You do not have to go around and e-mail everyone when you are in excite mode."

Me: "And it was TMI to inadvertently find out that you were jealous of my ability to do this. I mean, everyone has their "shortcomings." No need to advertise it, dude."

G: "I said that I am NOT jealous....... don't mix up my words, O Erect One!!! Just don't point that thing at me."

Me: "But your constant insistence that you are "NOT jealous" only leads me to believe that you are, in fact, ravenously jealous. It's a bit like reverse psychology... by talking about not being jealous, you're just covering up the fact that you are. Admit you have a problem, it's the first step in recovery."

G: "Mr Priapism, ha!  I am married with 2 young children - I am too fertile for my own good.  I have    
testosterone to spare!!!!!! Who needs me, I shout????"

Me: "I hear those children look nothing like you, though. Don't kill the messenger. Just a vicious rumor that's been floating around your office for the last couple years and, somehow, made its way across the street. Can't figure out how."

G: "Now I must kill you!"

I can't wait to see how this one ends.

Hell, hell no... where do we belong?

This has been an ongoing conversation between a friend of mine who works with me named G (not as in "G Money" or "G Love and Special Sauce") for the last couple of days.

He e-mailed asking if I could make some updates to his department's Web site. Since I am a Web developer, this does fall under my scope of responsibilities.

G: "On [such and such] page, can you make [such and such] change?"

Me: "Where's my money?!?!"

G: "Who needs money when I can offer you your own domain in Hell? www.kevinruleshades.hel."

Me: "Your change will go up on Friday after I take down [such and such] page, is that cool? This is, of course, pending the registration of kevinruleshades.hel. I need hard-copy confirmation before I'll proceed."

G: "Friday sounds good to me. Thank you for all your hard work!!! You now rule over the hellish domain set aside for our current Republican leaders!!!!!!!!!"

Me: "Does that make me one of them or does it just give me the right to make their afterlives a living hell?"

G: "You have power over their souls for an eternity or 8 years, whichever comes first. :)"

Me: "I'd better make sure to take full advantage of those two terms in hell, eh?"

So I am now apparently Satan.

I think this is a pretty cool step up in my professional work experience. Strikes me as a logical career step, anyway.

This sort of thing has got to look great on a resume, am I right?

Seriously, if it was between some random schmoe who has worked steadily for a company or two in his career and could possibly offer up his meager Rolodex of clients and me, the former Overlord of Hell, who would you hire?

I'm a lock!

Hot damn, red is so me!

Can’t you hear me when I call...

Not that I'm sick or anything like that. In fact, I'm not sick at all. However, since we've had some strange weather patterns lately, my allergies have been kicking into high gear. And I really need to start my allergy med regimen again.

I get into work today and find out that my coworker in the next office was babysitting last week, I think, for her nephew and caught some kind of horrible condition from the kid that has resulted in nearly complete laryngitis for her.

So I'm sitting in my office sneezing because I haven't taken an allergy pill when I get an e-mail from my voiceless coworker that simply says "Bless you."

That made my day.

Break it on down!

This one's for you, Alissa, being the CSI freak that you are...

I was searching through the non-credit catalog for Waubonsee Community College (our local C.C.) recently looking for some Adobe Illustrator courses when I came across the perfect profession for myself and for all of you in the Blogosphere.

It is the Forensic Computer Examiner Program. Check this out...

This 150-hour program prepares individuals for a career as a forensic computer examiner. Students will learn to retrieve evidence and prepare reports, based on that evidence, which will stand up in a court of law. The ethics of computer forensics, and the preparation and analysis of investigation results are also covered in this self-paced class. The primary certification for civilian forensic computer examiners is the Certified Computer Examiner (CCE) certification. This online program is an authorized CCE training course and thoroughly prepares students to take the CCE certification exam. Prereq: Basic computer skills, including the ability to work outside the Windows GUI interface, remove hard disk drives and change jumpers is required. NOTE: The class fee is nonrefundable once enrollment is processed. For a complete syllabus that lists resources included and required purchases, visit www.gatlineeducation.com/waubonsee.

Just try and tell me that doesn't sound cool! How awesome would it be to sit down at a computer and shred it for hidden data?

Okay, I'm sure after a while, the process itself might get a bit tedious. But I think the thrill of the hunt and the actual discovery of the lurid details of someone's personal life would definitely make it worthwhile. Think of it as Googling a person, but juiced up on 'roids (the process, not the person).

This just sounds like it would be a blast, and something that I would be great at.

Now can anyone foot me the $2,895 class fee?

Opportunity, opportunity, this is your big opportunity...

I received all kinds of responses to my feeble attempts at poetry yesterday from people saying that it's hilarious to people feeling sorry for me for all the crap I endured on Thursday.

However, one response, that none of you saw (because it came in on e-mail), is one that I never in my wildest imagination would have expected to receive.

Sorry it's a little blurry. Hard to resize it without killing the clarity of the text. Here is the entire text of the e-mail (complete with corporate disclaimer... ooh boy!):

Dear Mr. Apgar,

This e-mail is being sent in response to the “Ode to Microsoft Windows” posted to your blog on Friday, March 31, 2006.

As a loyal user of Microsoft products (would my employer have it any other way?), I do take issue with your claims that Macintosh OS X is superior to our Windows operating system. And our pending launch of Windows Vista, should you give it the chance it so richly deserves, will be a testament to that claim.

But this is a discussion for another time as I am writing you for an entirely different purpose.

As part of the marketing and promotions staff for Microsoft, I am charged with finding new ways to promote our range of products, and, more specifically, Windows Vista. As you may or may not realize, Vista has taken a virtual beating in the World Wide Web due to the need of our corporation to push back the launch date until later this calendar year.

In order to quell this dissent, I am attempting to find bloggers who would be willing to test a Beta version of Vista. We are asking these bloggers to open up a new blog and begin writing about their experiences from the very beginning as they install the OS through to actual personalization of the user interface and regular daily use of the OS. We want people to see that its implementation will be seamless and even an improvement on how their computer currently operates.

Why am I asking you? While we could easily recruit from a large pool of the Windows faithful, I prefer to portray a more balanced viewpoint. Having a few skeptics amongst our blogger corps would bring about that balance. In the end, of course, we hope to make a loyal user out of you, as well. If we can make a believer out of even the most ardent Macintosh users, there is no reason why Vista would not be a good computing solution for anyone.

I realize that you are a Macintosh user and that you may not even own a Windows-based PC of your own on which you could install Vista. I doubt the Information Services department at your place of employment would allow such an installation on one of their machines, either. If it is the case that you do not own a Windows computer, please inform me and we will send you an IBM ThinkPad for use in this project. The laptop would be yours to hold on to for as long as you remain a blogger on this project. A per-word stipend will also be paid to you. We can discuss details at your earliest convenience.

We hope that our blog campaign is successful so that we can expand it to other product launches in the future. And we would like to see you take part in these, as well. This, of course, would be dependent on your experience with the Beta version of Vista.

We look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Thomas Chamberlain
Assistant Manager of Marketing and Promotions
Windows Division
Microsoft Corporation

Cc: Peter Simmons, Marketing and Promotions; Jane Reyes, Product Development

THC/psr

---

This email and any attachments are confidential, may contain legally privileged information and are intended solely for the use of the addressee. If you are not the intended addressee and/or have received this email in error, please immediately notify me and delete it from your email system without disclosing its contents or that of any attachments to any third parties and without retaining any copies.

Part of me is morbidly curious and wants so badly to prove him wrong. The other part immediately screams "no way in hell, why would you want to work in cahoots with the Evil Empire!"

So, what should I do? You think I should look into this a bit more and see what it's all about? Finding an employee list on the Microsoft site is an exercise in futility so confirming whether or not he's for real may be entirely out of the question. The e-mail address seems legit, but spam has a way...

What would you do?

Hell, do you think blogging this negates their offer?

Get over it, get over it...

Apparently, I'm in quite a bitter, yet poetic, mood today.

An Ode to the Dipshit at the Gym Yesterday...

You came up to the counter last night,
With a tone full of venom and spite.
You got in my face,
You fucking headcase.
Now I may string you up like a kite.

© 2006 Kevin Apgar

Here's a tip, jackass... when your "favorite" treadmill is on the fritz, USE ANOTHER ONE! Or, better yet, take advantage of our 65-degree weather and run outside.

I hate stupid people.

But I love limericks.

Steamy windows, zero visibility...

An ode to Microsoft Windows...

Together we work, day in and day out
This situation makes me want to shout.

You freeze, you crash, you enrage me daily,
Yet your makers sing your praises gaily.

Some IT departments, stubborn they are,
Are their choices made while drunk in a bar?

They prefer the low-priced licensing rates,
Don't they realize they're tempting the fates?

Price equals quality, this much rings true,
I've declared this fact til my face turns blue.

Invest in quality, shoot for long term,
Make a wise choice and stand by it quite firm.

There's another choice, a better O.S.,
One that makes you scream aloud, "OH HELL YES."

The name's OSX and it's made by Mac,
And once you've gone Mac, there's no going back.

© 2006 Kevin Apgar

I'm done with you Windows. You and all the errors and crashes that you so readily propagate. My fury is at its peak. I want out... but I can't. Work dictates I deal with this hell on a daily basis.

I wish I knew how to quit you.

To the handshake drugs I bought downtown...

A week or so ago, I had a meeting with someone. No big deal as I have meetings with people all the time. I got my stuff together for this meeting and headed to the designated location. When I arrived, I was ushered in to his office by his secretary. He stood up from his desk and came over to greet me with an outstretched hand. I took that hand and...

... he gave me a pansyshake!

As I went in for full-thumb-to-forefinger-web contact, he closed down his grasp on my fingers. My fingers!!! It was a firm pansyshake, but still not a complete web-to-web, palm-on-palm handshake.

I thought maybe it was a timing fluke. But then he did it again as I was leaving!

Gah! There are few things I hate worse in this world than a weak handshake.

So, I'd like to take a moment to point out some keys to delivering a proper handshake:

• Allow time for a person's hand to completely meet yours. The webbing between your thumb and forefinger should make contact with that same point on your recipient's hand.
• Close your fingers and thumb around their hand firmly. Not too hard, though. Here's a tip to help you figure out how much pressure to apply: if it can crush an egg, that's a bit too much; if a Nerf ball would be safe in your clutches, you're being a pansy. Practice at home.
• Shake hands up and down once or twice. Typically, if you've shaken hands enough times with people, you gain an instinctual feel for when they want to stop. If they seem like they want to stop pretty soon, go for it. If they don't stop, then you should initiate the termination (rather oxymoronic, eh?) after one or two up-and-down motions.
• Don't go for grandiose up-and-down swings. A couple inches of movement will do just fine.
• Save the empty-hand-on-shoulder or two-handed handshakes for the politicians of the world. A single-handed shake will serve perfectly in most occasions.
• Even if their hands are sweaty, do not visibly dry or brush off your hand. Wait until you're seated or they are moving away from you and you can wipe your hand on your pants discretely. Calling out someone on sweaty palms, even if unintentional, can be rather humiliating. And make sure to find a bathroom after the meeting to wash your hands. It can't hurt.

If the person whose hand you are shaking violates one of these rules, there's nothing you can do about it except gripe to others like I am now. But it's no fault of your own so long as you tried. Don't attempt to correct them on their pansyshake in mid-shake, that's just bad form. Besides, how awkward would it be if you grabbed their hand with your open hand to reposition it?

If you follow these simple guidelines, you'll give a perfect handshake every time, people will be impressed, you'll get business deals (I can't guarantee that one), and soapboxers like me won't call you out on their blogs.

Kapgar.com: Committed to the fight against Pansyshaking (TM)

(image from fellow Typepadder HughesforAmerica)

I'm just a girl in this world...

I have had some interesting experiences in the last few days. Due to somewhat conflicting work schedules, I have actually been working at the gym without Katie on a couple of occasions.

For the last several months, we've both been at the gym together for each and every one of our shifts. We call them our "date nights." Sad? Yes. But at least it's time spent together, right?

However, this past Thursday night and yesterday morning, I've been at the gym without my Katie and with a different one... Katie S. The fundamental difference between the two is the age. While my Katie is now 29, this other Katie is, I think 17.

A 31-year-old man (some might argue "boy," but I'll give myself the benefit of the doubt) working with a 17-year-old girl (something about saying "17-year-old young woman" just sounds awkward) makes for an interesting time.

For example, on Thursday, another one of our coworkers, Katie S's classmate in high school, came in to visit and the two of them were just going on and on about some big scandal that was unfolding at school. I sat there playing a couple games of sudoku while keeping a lazy ear open to their conversation for some reason I can't possibly fathom.

"I can't believe how bad it was!"

"I don't think they'll ever talk again!"

"[xxxx] is so miserable right now. I saw him walking down the hall all dejected."

Finally, I'd had enough. I turned and said, "okay, against my better judgment, I'm gonna ask... what the hell are you two talking about?"

Have you ever watched the episodes of 8 Simple Rules for Dating my Teenage Daughter when John Ritter would ask his eldest daughter the same foolhardy question? You remember the results? His daughter would throw out melodramatic situational "facts" at lightning speeds that would make a professional auctioneer blush.

Not that it was nearly as rapid fire, but I was getting information from two sources at the same time. Something about stolen marijuana, brother blaming sister, juicing her for $300, finding out a year later it was his best friend, mom giving son until spring break to pay back sister, retribution via bricks through windows and stolen cash from parents. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

I was lost.

Then, yesterday morning, I worked with Katie S. again.

This time, though, she was bored to tears. She had nothing to do and, despite me having told her during her training to make sure she brings a book or magazine to help get through those boring times, she brought nothing.

I, once again, was playing sudoku (I'm an addict, okay?). So she went out into the fitness center and grabbed a copy of Miss Seventeen magazine. Talk about your true waste of trees. Even she was disgusted by how banal the content of the magazine was.

I grew tired of sudoku and started looking at the magazine with her. To effectively enjoy it, we discovered we would have to practice some kind of chronological mental digression. It was even necessary for her to do this despite being the same age as the magazine's purported target audience (or one would assume given the title of the rag).

This led to us, eventually, pulling out black markers and giving the cover a "reimagining" of sorts.

We were just plain brutal. There was a time in my life when I recall drawing mustaches and the like on magazine covers, but I was something like 12 or 13 years old. Yesterday, I must have been a 12 or 13 year old hopped up on speed. Goatee stubble, scars, eye patch, black eye, hooked hand, severe acne, pot eyes, shoulder tattoo, skunk hair... the list goes on.

And we were having way too much fun for it to be healthy.

I know I should be ashamed of myself, but it helped pass the time. So how bad can it truly be?

What words you say...

Yesterday afternoon, the phone in my office rang.

Me: "Kevin Apgar."

Him: "Hi.  This is so-and-so with the Aurora Beacon-News.  You recently answered our request about iPod playlists and I wanted to follow up with a few questions if that's okay with you."

A little background information:
I work in public relations and our Media Relations Director (MRD) is always looking for people on campus to take part in media requests.  He'll receive random requests for information that local newspapers send out in bulk to their contact lists and our MRD tries to forward them on to people that he feels might be good sources of information.  It can be a request for any number of topic areas from academic or religious information all the way on down to experts on Harry Potter.

Mine just happened to be about iPods and what the top ten songs are in my playlist.  The MRD gave me the request and I replied to it.

And, a couple weeks later, I got a callback about it.

Oh, and he really did have a name.  But, for the life of me, I'll be damned if I can remember it.

Him: "So you fell right in the middle of the range of ages of people who responded to the request."

Me: "Really?"

Him: "Yep.  I had kids as young as 11 and people as old as 60 respond."

Me: "Wow."

Him: "Yeah, I never expected that good a turnout.  But it's given me a lot of information to choose from."

Me: "I'll bet it has."

So we sat around and talked music for about 10-15 minutes.

Wow, what a great break in the day.  Just talk to someone about music in the middle of the workday. Those are very welcome breaks.  Especially when the person is knowledgeable enough themselves.  I haven't had someone in the office with whom I could talk music since Eric moved to Michigan, so this was a great reprieve.

We talked about ways in which I acquire music (my collection, Eric, the library, and the iTunes Music Store), whether I support the concept of peer-to-peer sharing networks (split... I don't support piracy, but I think it's fine to use P2P to find out if you like something enough before buying it... I like to know what I'm spending my hard-earned money on ahead of time), if I've ever used P2P (back in the day when Napster was free and in some early versions of Limewire to do exactly what I described above), and what I think of the RIAA (a joke that generally just puts out shit music, charges way too much for it, and constantly creates policies and initiates lawsuits that drive more and more people to want to take part in piracy instead of concentrating their efforts on finding a positive, viable solution).

It really was a great conversation and I hope that some of my input finds its way into the article.  I wouldn't be surprised if it didn't, though, since I've been interviewed before and all my information was cut from the final article.

If it does make it in there, I'll either link to it or repost the entire article here.

It would be cool if I get in there.

On the music front, Alex and Nick from Franz Ferdinand were given the 20 questions by Playboy this month (I know this from reading Right Thoughts, not from reading Playboy).  One of the questions pertained to how digital downloads and MP3 players, specifically the iPod, affect music sales...

PLAYBOY: Some musicians aren’t very happy about the iPod.

NICK: I’m not quite sure.  I think if you’re in one place, it’s nice to have an actual album, a record sleeve, the lyrics.  So there will always be that element of wanting to own something and not just have a song on a hard drive.  But I know I travel a lot - and I’ve always liked to travel light - I don’t like to have a lot of possessions.  What I do is buy a CD and stick it in and rip it.  Then I can listen to it and have it with me even if I lose the CD or give it away.

ALEX: I like the idea that, because of downloading, people are going to buy songs only if they are good.  I think that’s a positive thing.  It means lazy bands aren’t going to get away with giving you one hit single and an album full of filler.  We like the idea that every song should stand up in its own right so you don’t have to listen to a song in the context of an album to understand it.  I suppose that’s why I’m sympathetic to the download environment.

Alex's response is right on the money.  That really sums it up perfectly, doesn't it?  Yet the RIAA hasn't learned anything, have they?

And I just found this article from the Electronic Frontiers Foundation (EFF) in which the RIAA says that copying CDs to an iPod should not constitute "fair use."  Good luck with that one.  Asshats.

I'm coming clean, I'm coming clean...

Have you ever had the desire to just completely purge things from your life?  Not people, necessarily.  More like items, objects, collections of crap that have accumulated over the years.

In a recent episode of The Office, the crew at Dunder-Mifflin was taking part in a spring cleaning of their office in the middle of the winter.  One of the characters said that he was already done because he never keeps enough around to ever have to worry.  In fact, he said, if he quit or was fired, he could pretty much just up and leave.

Not that I'm planning on quitting my job and, I pray, I'm not on the cusp of being fired any time soon, but I've been looking around my office at all the crap that has built up over my five and a half years of employment here and I seriously want to get rid of a lot of it. 

Last week, I cleared out a bunch of the toys that I've had in here forever.  And now I'm looking around and I seriously want to tear down the posters on my walls as well as all the other stuff I have hanging up just to give myself a completely fresh start.  I'm sick of my same old, same old.  I'm tired of seeing Al Pacino as Scarface on my wall.  I'm tired of the few movie posters that are in here.  It's all just very old and stale.

Do any of you have any tips on what I can do to enliven this place a bit? 

What have you done in your own office space? 

Bear in mind, I work in an office, not a cubicle... well, actually, it's an office that is made out of a bedroom that was built into the garage of a converted house across the street from campus.  Follow all that?  It does have four walls, crappy carpet, some shelves on the wall, and lots of bulletin board space. 

Float me some ideas.  Please.  My eyes are bored.

Oh God, I just found one of those little calendars that banks hand out pinned up on one of the bulletin boards in here and it hadn't been changed since July 2005.

help.