Hyperfluous - Cherney's Blog

QotD: What, no horses?

nobody@vox.com(Cherney) — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 21:51:19 -0500

I am a farmer who raise ducks and cows. The animals have a total of 9 heads and 26 feet. How many ducks and cows do I have?
Submitted by The BlueTie.

You have four cows and one duck. And what a terrifying duck it is. Some of those heads are growing out of the most unlikely places...

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All right, I'll forget about the whole riddle thing

nobody@vox.com(Cherney) — Wed, 23 Jul 2008 22:04:32 -0500

Don't worry Ben. A tumor divided against itself cannot stand.

The answer was Uncle.

The sentence "Abe begins Uncle Ben's biopsy first" is written in alphabetical order. Except uncle. Also, all of the words in the sentence are written in alphabetical order (A before B before E, and so on). Except uncle. Also, none of the words contain a U except Uncle, but that really wasn't one of the reasons.

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Jenna is the best wife ever

nobody@vox.com(Cherney) — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 22:31:47 -0500

The last couple of wee ks here have been something of a whirlwind. Between the huge projects coming up unexpectedly at work and the demise of poor Horace and Aaron's newfound love of not going to sleep, I've been pretty much on edge since getting back from the Fourth. But do you know who is awesome?

Jenna.

It's true, Lefou. She pretty much did all the research on which cars we should buy. All I knew was that it needed "man-sized cupholders for a man-sized thirst". She called up a bunch of banks and shopped around to find the best rates on an auto loan. She set up the car insurance. Shopping for cars is usually a sea of misery and despair, but Jenna totally parted that sea, much like Moses and Doug Henning.

And get this. In the middle of all of this car buying and car selling, the Vibe got that thing again, where it leaks all over the passenger side floor. This time it was worse than ever, so that when I drove up hill, a puddle deep enough to support a Japanese fighting fish would appear in the floor of the back seat. Of course, the fish didn't like it when I went downhill, but the point is that the car was in bad shape. And it's tough to take it in to a repair place over lunch when you work 50 miles from home and you just pooled all of your money together for a new car. So get this: Jenna fixed it. And not like the way I "fixed" the car radio and caused it to short circuit a good chunk of the electrical system. She actually fixed the leak. The floor of the car is now as dry as the expression of a car mechanic who finds out that you don't need to bring the car in after all.

Also, Jenna is awesome for taking Aaron to swimming lessons. They're kind of a trial. While all of the other kids blow bubbles in the water and kick their feet, Aaron mostly screams and tries to spit water at people. The only part he can really get into is getting out of the water, yelling, "I'm an International Superhero!" and jumping into the water (while spitting). Every lesson, they devote three minutes to this activity. Aaron chooses to devote twenty-four, in lieu of learning any kind of strokes. Swimming, clearly, is not his forte. But week after week, Jenna brings Aaron in and patiently explains why it's important to learn to swim while Aaron does his best garden hose impression.

She has also made killer spareribs, proofread a thing I wrote for a thing, and organized our terrifying pile of mail. Each one of these things made my heart sing.

And after this long and difficult week, Jenna picked up Rejuvenating Foot Cream from the local apothecary and gave me a foot rub. Unbelievable. I am the luckiest man in the world.

No wonder Aaron keeps going on and on about how he's an international superhero. He probably thinks it's hereditary.

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Playing Along on the Car Moniker

nobody@vox.com(Cherney) — Mon, 21 Jul 2008 22:10:18 -0500

Someone's car. Not mine

Fare thee well, Horace the Taurus. We barely knew thee.

Welcome, new car. Clearly, this car needs a name. Every car I've ever named in a timely fashion has lasted me several years and given me plenty of satisfactory automotive satisfaction, or fahrferdnuegen, as it's sometimes called. However, it's not the most distinctive car on the road. It's the same shade of blue as our other cars, and it's a Corolla, which was voted most boring car in America by Car and Driver. I've been weighing the options, but I'm having trouble making a decision.

So far, with the exception of Horace, we've had satisfactory names for our cars. For the never-say-die '85 Camry that I took to college, Genghis Khar. For the ridiculously, effeminately teal Geo Prism, Fancy. For the Pontiac Vibe, an everyday car with a streak of adventure and machismo, Frank Sanchez. This new car needs a name that lives up to my high car-naming standards

Here are some options:

Lola - I haven't always been big on the rhyming name thing, but Lola Corolla has a nice ring to it. Plus, it's fun to think of my car being able to meringue and do the cha-cha thirty years ago, when they used to have a show. On the other hand, my last car had a rhyming name, and I don't want to set a precedent with that.

Carol - A diminutive form of Corolla. Famous Carols include Burnett, Channing, King, and Ina-panthers. Sounds like the kind of car that has the habit of bursting into a selection of Cabaret at the drop of a hat, which at first seems really enduring, but then makes you truculent and vituperative, and that's no way to drive a car.

Cheery - Certainly, the Corolla is a cheery looking car. It's a good size and everything. An added plus is that Cheery is a discworld reference, referring to the Lance Constable Dwarf with the most feminine beard on the Watch, Cheery Littlebottom. That's a good name for a car.

Cornflower - When I was little, I hated cornflower. I wanted blue, and I'd settle for light blue, but this cornflower color was just not right for anything, including flowers on stalks of corn. However, everyone else clearly felt that way, so it was always available. Also, it is kind of close to the blue of my car.

Moon City - Jenna and I recently bought Blue Moon City. We also recently bought a blue Corolla. That's all I've got for this one. It's kind of a stretch.

Camel - We bought this car for its mileage. Since I've got such a long commute, it's nice to have a car that won't need to be filled up several times a week. I sometimes use "camel" to refer to someone who can go a long time without something. For example, I am a haircut camel. So you see.

Aaron - Aaron is always calling everything Aaron. Why shouldn't we do it to? Oh yeah, because we would give him a complex.

Bert - It's always fun to have a car named Bert.

That's all I've got. I figure we've got a week or so until relatives expect any kind of christening ceremony, so if any of you have any suggestions, please let me know!

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Savings, Both Daylight and Financial

nobody@vox.com(Cherney) — Thu, 17 Jul 2008 23:08:38 -0500

Like most people, recent economic events have me concerned and recent three-year-olds refusing to go to bed have me cranky. I found myself looking for some solutions and found a pamphlet at my local bank that helped me sleep slightly better at night. It was called "Sleep Slightly Better At Night: Your Guide to Weathering the Economic Downturn and A Rebellious Preschooler." Inside, I found a number of helpful tips and stock photography, and I thought I'd pass some of it on to you:

I need this money to add to my piggy bank collection

15 Easy Things To Do To Sleep Slightly Better At Night And Weather the Economics Downturn and a Rebellious Preschooler

Don't put all your eggs in one basket. What if you dropped that basket? Eggs everywhere, dudes. Instead of investing ten thousand dollars in one bank, invest one dollar in ten thousand banks. Chances are that some of them will be fine, plus you'll probably get a lot of free pens.
Diversify your mutual funds investments. Then, invest in diverse funds mutually. Next, fund an investigation into devout mutants. Finally, mute infested devourers for fun.
Create a ritual that your child will grow to expect. First say "night-night." Follow it with "Aaron, it's time for night-nights." Third, remind him that you've "already said night-night, and now it's time for you to go to bed right now." Mention that if he doesn't get into bed right this second, you'll get very angry. Yell "night-night" in a way that sounds forceful and convincing. Threaten to cancel Christmas. If you can get into this routine every night, your child will find it comforting, and know what to expect every night.
Think about investing in a company you feel good about. Have you considered investing in companies that print brochures? They're really hot right now, let me tell you what. You could probably just leave all your money in the mail box outside the print shop on Third street.
This is going into my Roth IR-PLAY!

Read the annual reports carefully for any company that you own stock in. Look for key indicators of success such as increased profits, expansion, and free donuts. If the annual report uses phrases like right-sizing, fire sale, gnashing of teeth and rending of garments or bank-demonium, you may want to sell your shares.
Engage in activities that will relax your child before bedtime, such as reading excerpts from instruction manuals, annual reports, or your failed novel.
Not sure whether to invest in the S & P, Dow Jones, or NASDAQ? Here's a quick way to determine which market is best for you. Invest in the S & P if you want your rate of return to be standard or poor. Invest in NASDAQ if you like to drink Nasty Daquiris. Invest in Dow Jones if you'd like to pay a dowry to Indiana Jones. Simple!
Shop frugally. Instead of buying staples like milk and eggs from a high-end grocery store, pick them up at garage sales. Instead of buying high-end purchases like TVs and stereos from an electronics specialist, buy them from the grocery store. Then, when you're at the electronics specialist, try to buy a garage.
Turn bed time into a fun time. Don't ask us how. We've never had any success with this one.
To spend like a rich person, think like a rich person. When you are spending a five dollar bill, insist that it's a fifty. When you drink moonshine, tell people it's the diamond juice. When you eat ramen, announce that it's really the remains of your last chauffeur.
Good grief, woman. I'm maturing faster than this bond!

When hiding money under your mattress, make sure the sleep number is set to 45 or lower.
If all else fails, you might find some success if you bribe your child to sleep.
Do not actually pay the bribe.
If you're tempted to take all the money and just put it on red, that's OK, but dude, do not put it on blue. There is no blue. I can't believe I didn't check that first.
Have less kids. Look into having a negative kid, to balance out the one who's not sleeping.

Hope you found this as helpful as I did!

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Come on down to some place and see the great deals

nobody@vox.com(Cherney) — Tue, 15 Jul 2008 23:21:26 -0500

Here's just the car you're looking for, guy

Well, we're in need of a new car. Or a used car that runs like new. So if you are giving away new or used-but-like-new cars, or selling them for a price so low you're practically giving them away, please let us know. We're looking for a real beaut, something that a little old lady only drove to church on Sundays, a little baby that gets great gas mileage but still has some engine under that hood. Maybe a little something that would cause the seller to cut off his own arm in order for it to be a better deal. We would like to drive out in a car this afternoon, get a fantastic deal on financing, and be utterly unable to give no for an answer. Please keep an ear out for a car that purrs like a kitten, is just like the car you bought for your daughter so you know it's got to be safe, and is a perfect fit for a growing family. Or a small family, fella. This car will be perfect either way do I know what you're saying?

Because I was led to believe I had found that car. Several times. And we were sadly mistaken.

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Bird-brained

nobody@vox.com(Cherney) — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 23:13:32 -0500

Huh, this one isn't working. Better try another one

When we lived in Chicago, we didn't see very many birds. "Look," we'd say. "There's a pigeon. And that one there, that's... a pigeon. Oh, look, it's eating the first pigeon." The pigeons in Chicago were mean. Sometimes we got some crows. And by sometimes, I mean at the crack of dawn, and by got I mean crows were screaming right outside our window like something in a Poeian nightmare. Man they loved to scream their ugly squawk right about 2 hours before the alarm was set to go off. Then the baby would wake up and be up for the day, and the crows would fly away to make some other apartment dweller's life difficult.

So it's refreshing to be here away from the big city, where bird watching is something you can do even if you're not morbid and creepy. We've gotten all kinds of birds in our yard, including nuthatches, chickadees, woodpeckers, titmice, ruby-throated hummers and even birds with names that don't make fourth graders snicker. We've got a standard bird feeder in the front and a hummingbird feeder in the back, and sometimes, we'll just sit and stare out the window for avian passersby to mooch a free meal off of us. Of course, we also see a lot of larger birds of prey as well. Jenna has quickly picked up a knack for identifying them instantly by their plumage (either that or she does a great job pretending to) and she's always pointing out bald eagles and red-tailed hawks and lesser emu and once, a tufted pterodactyl.

There's something peaceful about watching the large birds soar on an updraft, with smaller birds nipping at their sides, or watching the beautiful colors of the birds swooping and wheeling through our yard. Of course, there's a downside, too. And that is that birds are constantly smacking themselves into our windows. And it's not just one particularly reflective window, either. It's like that scene in Jurassic Park, where the velociraptors are testing the fences to find out where the weak spot is, except these birds are testing the windows by smacking their heads into them, so doesn't seem as shockingly crafty as the raptors were.

Last week, after the fourth of July, I was unhappy to find that I had to sweep away yet another bird carcass from our front deck. Where the hell is a bird-eating pigeon when you really need it? I don't know if our house smells like worms or looks like something you could use for a nest or sounds like the call of a really attractive robin, but whatever it is, it's become a popular gathering spot for dead birds. There's something about a dead bird that is so forlorn, it can take your breath away. Unless your house happens to be then kamikaze bird showcase, like mine clearly is. "Thonk," they go, and follow their fellow failed feathery friends into the great hereafter, and you just can't be so forlorn because from the frequency of the thonks, these birds just aren't getting it. Also, "Thwack."

And it's not just limited to the house. I get all kinds of birds caroming off the windshield of the car. I am a dead bird magnet. They cross in front of the car all the time on my commute, and at first, I was amazed how they just almost seemed like they were going to get thonked, but they manage to pull off a miraculous dodge. Then some of them didn't, and instead of impressing me with their evasive maneuvers, they scared the hell out of me and bounced away like some sad, feathered superball.

So I've become something of a nervous wreck on my commute, and I've taken to screaming "Look out birds!" over and over as I drive, in hopes that they'll get nervous instead of getting wrecked. I've tried to think about what I can do to rid myself of this extra stress, and I've only come up with one solution.

I've got to start driving by some apartment buildings at 4:00 in the fricking morning.

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Taken by storm

nobody@vox.com(Cherney) — Thu, 10 Jul 2008 22:40:00 -0500

Storm clouds

Everyone was hard at work today when one of the voices in the office carried just a little bit above everyone else's. "Sounds like there's going to be a big storm coming."

Of course, most of us are cubicle dwellers, for whom weather conditions are something not to be considered during working hours. Still, it wasn't just a storm coming. It was a Big Storm. So I stood up and peered at the closest window. It was overcast, sure but a big storm? Didn't look likely. I sat down and went back to work.

But then there was a belated response. "Look at that. It looks pretty bad."

There it was, crystal clear. All of the other conversations seemed to fade away as the quiet conversation of the impending thunderstorm crawled in and out of our ears. It reminded me of being on a crowded train, where people are talking on cell phones and stops are being announced and the wheels squeak and there's a lot of noise, but you can hear every word that the crazy guy is mumbling to his empty box of fries.

Soon, people were checking out the windows to see if their car windows were rolled up. That started off more conversations about the weather, and soon the random snippets became a constant. Emboldened by people eschewing work to talk nimbus clouds, some of us took the opportunity to check the radar on our computers.

Indeed it was a storm. And thanks to the eighth wonder of the world that is the Internet, we all knew precisely the minute it was expected to hit.

I stood up again. Now it was darker. The windows at work are tinted, so I wasn't convinced that it was too bad, but I decided to mosey on over to the breakroom to get a good look at the clouds. And eat a donut. I was multitasking.

There were indeed dark looking clouds sweeping in from the north. And the wind was picking up, as I could tell by the line of flags flapping much stronger than they had been at lunch. According to the Internet, we had seven minutes. I overheard someone talking about sirens going off.

When I returned to my desk, I overheard three or four storm related comments. Nothing work related was being mentioned. There was a message waiting for me in my email. It read, "As most of you know, we are in a tornado warning. If you so choose, you can take cover in the southeast corridor by dry storage."

I had no idea which corridor was the southeast one. Or what the dry storage was.

I leaned over to ask my cubicle mate, but he was gone. In fact, I was all too aware that the office had gotten very quiet.

I stood up, and found myself nearly alone in a room that only minutes ago held twenty people.

Crap, I thought. Are they all in the southwest quadrant? No southwest corridor! No, southeast corridor!

But I still heard voices, so I followed them. To the front of the building. Everyone was gathered in the parking lot staring up at the sky.

There's something about a group of people staring at the sky that gives you chills. People generally take the sky for granted. When you stand and stare at it, it almost always means something bad. Some reasons you might stare at the sky:

It's black as sack cloth, and the seas are like unto blood
It's raining frogs
It's full of Japanese bombers heading for Pearl Harbor
Locusts are about to eat the crap out of Walnut Grove
Alien invasion/"meteor storm"
A skywriting call for Dorothy's surrender
You're being left out of the rapture
The sky is a color it definitely should not be

This time, it was that last option. Just behind the rolling, churning black clouds, the horizon was turned a sickly shade of blue/green. It was not a good color for a sky. It was also not a good color for a '94 Geo Prism, but sometimes you have to make tough choices when you're buying a car.

Clouds in a storm

So here were my coworkers, all gathered around in the parking lot, staring heavenward and just waiting for something terrible to happen. "The funnel cloud will probably form right there," someone was saying pointing to a spot I could not help but notice was directly atop the office.

The wind had really picked up. You could hear the flags snapping angrily, shaking their poles. Other coworkers ventured outside. "If you're all going to be out here, I guess I might was well, too."

"That's the kind of thinking that leads to a lot of dead chickens." A few people chuckled, but everyone else was mesmerized by the writhing clouds above us, twisting in various directions like cogs in a giant machine.

There are some moments when things can build up beyond your control. If you're in an earthquake, for example, you just find a sturdy wall and hope you're in the right place, and that's about it. If a fire is approaching, you get out of there and hope for good conditions, but that's pretty much your life you're leaving up to "conditions". If a tornado forms on top of you, it's really up to the tornado whether you see it through or not. It's a pretty sobering thought, although less so to a bunch of people standing around outside.

Suddenly, the wind blew ice cold. Everyone noticed it at the same time. There was a very serious change in temperature. There we stood, in the parking lot under a tornadic sky, and no one dared breathe.

At that moment, it started to rain. Just a cold drizzle, but it seemed to snap everyone back down to earth. Standing outside during a tornado warning, that was all well and good, but let's not do something foolish and get wet.

So we filed back inside, still glancing up at a menacing sky that could care less if we stayed or went.

And then we went back to work. The rain really starting coming down in about two minutes, and the hail followed a few minutes later, but we were all back at our desks handling incoming calls and typing memos and doing the normal work things that people do.

The storm passed.

There was no tornado today, and I'm thankful for that. But for a few moments, everyone took a storm break. Like a cigarette break, in that there's huddling involved, and your family does not want to hear about you taking one, and you sit and think about your own mortality as you contribute to its abridgment. But a storm break is different, because people respect the storm in a way they'll never respect a cigarette. And also because a little bit of rain is enough to end the break. And you're less stinky afterwards.

But the biggest difference is that cigarette breaks lead to other cigarette breaks, running into each other every day ad infinitum. But after a storm break, when it's all over, and the clouds break and the sky looks like sky again, you're hard-pressed not to look up at it and breathe a word of thanks and enjoy the clear weather for a while.

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Mad in America

nobody@vox.com(Cherney) — Tue, 08 Jul 2008 23:18:17 -0500

Mad Men: Music From the Series, Vol. 1

Original TV Soundtrack

Mad Men is fantastic. Can't wait for July 27th.

Jenna and I have been watching one episode and one commentary a night since buying the DVD. And not blogging. We love it.

Although Jenna says that you could have found a better sociologist for the advertising documentary, Rich.

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Five non-cement oriented things we did since Saturday

nobody@vox.com(Cherney) — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 22:39:42 -0500

A movie?! I was promised Liszt. This movie had better be about Liszt, Daddy.

Yes the weekend was five days ago. I've been busy, dudes and ladies.

1. We took Aaron to his first movie in his first movie theater. It was the tiny little theater downtown, and I must say I was pleasantly surprised with how modern and stylin' it was on the inside. We saw Wall-E, which I thought was great. Aaron was less impressed. He liked the bunny cartoon beforehand. When I read the reviews that talked about the lack of dialog in the movie, I kind of assumed it would be replaced by a bunch of Charlie Chaplain-esque pratfalls and dances instead of an introspective journey of discovery and the joy of a first love. Aaron liked when the robots fell down, and that just didn't happen a lot in this movie. He was very good throughout, though. During the scene wherein the big rocket landed, Aaron asked, "What's that thing?" I quietly reminded him that he needed to be quiet in the movie, but my words were drowned out by about four other kids asking "What's that thing?" When the smoke cleared, and Aaron cheered, "It's a rocket!", I could hear the other kids going, "Ohhhhhh." He had to go potty about 3/4 of the way through the movie, and I felt like I missed a lot in that five minutes, so I'll just have to watch it again sometime.

2. We got home late on Saturday night, so showed Aaron the sparklers we bought for the fourth of July. At first, he was a little afraid to be anywhere near them, but eventually, he was spelling his name in pyrotechnics like a big boy. That's right, I helped my three-year-old son get past his natural aversion to fire. I'm a super dad.

3. We finally decided that enough was enough with the crib, and replaced it with a brand new big boy bed. Well, brand new in the sense that we removed one wall of the crib and replaced it with a shorter wall. But now Aaron can get out of bed whenever he wants to. That has been a treat. So now Aaron is convinced that the nightly ritual of tucking and rocking and hugging and singing all gets to be repeated if he sets foot out of bed. I can't believe we didn't do this sooner.

4. We tried to attend an orchestra concert with Aaron. We figured, he's big enough to sleep in a big-boy bed, he's big enough to see a movie about life in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, surely he's old enough to enjoy some Liszt.

He was not.

Well, we tried.

5. Last night, despite the fact that we have the brand new Mad Men DVD sitting right here on our coffee table, ready for some watchin', Jenna and I watched a horrifying documentary about a certain big-box-type store that I had successfully boycotted for years until a couple of months ago in an effort to score some toilet cleaners and was being a little more lax about until I watched the movie, where I rediscovered why it's not a very nice place and why I'd be better boycotting it again because I just shouldn't be shopping there even if they do have everyday low prices on cherries that make my heart beat a little faster. Also, now the toilet's not working. You can guess who I suspect.

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