The “finger-scrolling thingy”

I came across this lawyer’s blog yesterday when it was linked to by iPhone JD for its iPhone 4 review. At first I wasn’t going to say anything, but man, it’s bad.

First, the posts are almost all links to other sites with music industry news. You have to wade through pages of these to get to any real content.

Second, the writing’s terrible. There’s this gem:

I have fallen victim to the allure driven by the site of all of my business associates who were sporting shiny black and white, Zen-like devices with colorful icons.  Yes, I bought an iPhone.

Never mind the wordiness, but I’m sure he meant “sight” in the first sentence. Later in the same post, while whining about features the iPhone lacks, he has this to say:

Since we’re on the subject, looking up contacts is probably a breeze for some MP3 stealing teenager with 25-50 contacts in their address book.  When they swipe their pimple-popping finger down the list I’m sure it flows beautifully for them. I, on the other hand, like many other business people, have close to 2000 contacts in my database: not the same  “weeeee” experience with the finger-scrolling thingy!

What a dick.


Am I too old for this?

These are my new Heelys:

Home Depot and Costco are perfect places for these things. I’m considering wearing them to the airport this Friday when we fly to Michigan.

It’s crawfish, not crayfish. Look it up.

On Saturday, May 2, I was expecting a FedEx package. I get a little eager when I’m expecting something (a watch in this case), and I tend to check the front porch several times during the day. On what I think was the second check of the day, I opened the door and looked down to see this:

Crawfish on Porch

My first thought was that someone was watching and waiting to see the reaction of the dude that opens the door to see a creepy crawfish with a note attached sitting on his porch, so I slammed the door and ran up the stairs to see Emily. She was feeding Charley.

Me: “Okay, you wanna hear something weird?”

Em: Blank stare.

Me: “I was checking for my watch that’s supposed to be here today, and when I opened the door there’s a crawfish sitting on the front porch.”

Em: “A live one?”

Me: “No, a bright red one like it’s been cooked for a crawfish boil.”

Em: “Crawfish are gross.”

Me: “Ooh, I should take some pictures.”

Em: “Okay, but just don’t show them to me. Those things freak me out.”

I went downstairs, grabbed a plastic bag and my grill stick from the side porch, then went to the front door. I wasn’t THAT worried anymore about some 12-year-old hiding behind a tree and waiting to take a picture of my freakout. Besides, even I can appreciate that a picture of a 30-something dude on all fours in his doorway with a camera phone in one hand and a stick in the other, poking a crawfish, would be pretty funny. Video would be even better.

Anyway, I poked the crawfish to make sure it wasn’t spring-loaded, then threw it into the plastic bag using the stick (probably took four tries). Next it was time to read the note.

Note Side One

I was a little puzzled. Does someone think I’m Red Lobster’s CEO? Or was it not directed and me and more of a call-to-action type of thing? Then I wondered if any other porches in the neighborhood got crawfish with little environmental messages attached, and now I wish I had walked up and down the street to check. Either way it’s weird. If it was just us, then why us? And why was this someone walking/driving around with a cooked crawfish. If several houses got them, then the person must have had a whole bag of crawfish. That’s weird too.

Still crouched in the doorway, I flipped over the little strip of papaer.

Note Side Two

So there we have it–it was RICARDO! I’ve known one Ricardo in the past ten years. He was a bartender I worked with at Manuels down on Congress Ave. Nice guy. Moved up north somewhere…Portland I think. He’s probably not the one that did it.

To the Ricardo who DID do it, why use a crawfish and not a lobster? After all, you ARE protesting “Lobstefest,” right? I guess if you were carrying 20 or so, crawfish are more manageable. Little piece of advice though, next time try replacing the crawfish with a $50 bill and change the note to read: “Go get yourself some lobster so you can really understand how “Lobsterfest” is hurting our waters. -Ricardo” Do that, and I’ll be MUCH more sympathetic to your cause.

It’s Halloween and I don’t wanna answer the door

Well, it’s Halloween and my first such holiday in an actual house as opposed to an apartment…and where am I but upstairs in my office on the internet. It’s not that I have anything against the cute neighbor kids in their ghosts costumes, in fact I’ll soon be a parent of one of those very such kids. I’m just lazy.

Emily must share my laziness because she just came in and told me she turned the porch light off. And wouldn’t you know it, the doorbell hasn’t rung once tonight.

Golden Girls, catfights and the dentist

Tonight I’m watching the Golden Girls for some reason. I’m sitting here in a leather chair with my feet up, the remote is on the arm, but I’m not changing the channel. I have to get up fairly early because we have an appointment at the vet to have Henry’s back leg looked at. Saturday morning, at around 7:50 am, we woke up to hissing, growling and cat screaming. I ran to the doorway where Henry and Sebastian were fighting and rolling in a cartoon-like ball of catness. Sebastian’s the new cat in the house, and so far they’ve been getting along pretty well. We think they were having a small fight, but then one of them knocked over a large picture frame we have leaning against the wall. The picture frame fell onto them and made a ton of noise, setting the small hissing match into overdrive. I finally got them separated, but Henry suffered a small wound on the back of his right leg. He’s not really limping or anything, but it did seem to bleed quite a bit.

[Side note: as I sit here another episode of Golden Girls is starting.]

After the vet appointment, I have a dentist appointment. It’s a pretty simple one–I’m just having a cap re-cemented–but the underlying tooth is the real problem. I’ve had two, (yes two!) freaking root canals on the exact same tooth and it still hurts when you tap on it or I bite into something hard like a tortilla chip. They keep using temporary cement in case I need work done on it, but at this point I’m getting frustrated.

[Final Golden Girls note: Blanche Devereaux had some nice legs.]