Zero Vents Plasma

I don’t have anything nice to say about my own life at the moment, so I’m going to post the lyrics to a song I love (unaccountably, since it is a strangely raucous country western-styled song by a Canadian hip hop artist, and I generally enjoy neither country nor hip hop).  If this is insufficiently personable for you, then go get stuffed.

Rough House Blues

I’m Going Down The Road Feeling Bad, Bye And Bye
Deep Fried Blues But I’d Rather Die Than Cry
Gas Station Food Bound To Go Stale Soon
There’s A Curse In The Air And A Toe-Nail Moon
Yeah, Some Of These Towns Are Still Non-Friendly
And This Is The Hammer That Killed John Henry
I’m Sick Of Being Tired, Sick Of The Circus Life
Here Day-Dreaming Of A Waitress As The Perfect Wife
Utterly Inappropriate, Taken Out Of Context
Degenerate Nervousness, Developing A Complex
No Good With Money, Left-Overs In A Bitch Bag
Fryin’ Pan Soul And A Face Like A Dishrag
A Million Old Movies, I Figured I’d Tell
Childhood Memories Triggered By Smell

So Now What, You May Ask, Well That’s Hard To Say
Because That Old Jack Of Diamons Is A Tough Card To Play

All The Wrong Reasons, Just Another Skull To Crack
Askin’ The Dust, I’m Stuck In A Cul-De-Sac
And It May Sound Silly But To Me The Threat Is Very Real
So That’s Why I Sing Love Songs And Carry Steel
Women And Warfare, Roaches And Roadkills
No Easy Answers, No Deadlines And No Frills
Catchin’ Your Drift, Receivin’ The Warning
Packin’ My Things, I Live In The Morning
I Drive All Night, Gone To See My Friend
One Day This Highway Will Be My End
Now The Hills Are Alive And The Motor Is Dead
That Man Has A Zero Floating Over His Head
I Follow My Instincts, Sometimes Follow Dogs
Drink Muddy Water,Sleep Inside Hollow Logs

So Now What, You May Ask, Well That’s Hard To Say
Because That Old Jack Of Diamonds Is A Tough Card To Play

Today is a day for anyone even remotely connected with web development to throws their hands in the air and celebrate.  According to StatCounter Global Statistics, Firefox 3.5 has become the most popular browser in the world.

Graph of Browser Shares

That is pretty darn tootin’ amazing!

Hopefully, our next day of celebration will be the day when IE6’s market share drops below 1% — on that day, there will be toasting and dancing and, if I have anything to do with it, widespread public drunkenness.  To the future!  *clink*

(5:20:18 PM) Zero: you there?
(5:20:44 PM) Anonymous Colleague: yes, wassup
(5:21:06 PM) Zero: i am told you paid us a visit while I was in a meeting
(5:21:11 PM) Zero: anything I can do to help?
(5:21:25 PM) Anonymous Colleague: yes, one sec, i will come up
(5:23:04 PM) Zero: btw, I love the fact you come up instead of using IM
(5:23:09 PM) Zero: we have become IM zombies
(5:23:29 PM) Anonymous Colleague: i know - we don’t see enough of each other as it is anyways
(5:24:02 PM) Anonymous Colleague: even though I could do without having to look at some of you nasty sons of bitches sometimes
(5:24:08 PM) Anonymous Colleague:

I have been griping more than my fair share the last couple of weeks.  I am going on gripe hiatus long enough to appreciate one of the truly wonderful things in my life: Cathy McDonald (whom I *never* call Cathy), my partner and friend (oh, and incidentally, we’re married — so she’s my husband as well).

This morning we were running an errand in town and we stopped for coffee on the way home.  The individual who took our order (for some reason an offensive, five letter word beginning with “b” and rhyming with “snitch” comes to mind) did their best to counteract the general cheeriness of the sunny weather, and we both griped about her on the way home.  Also, all of our receipts got dumped accidentally into our paper recycling before I could enter them into Quicken.  With that as preface, I just received this from Cathy in an email titled “Zealous about Paperwork”:

I’m feeling proud of myself. I just spent too long on a phone conversation with a passport official that made the coffee chick this morning look cordial. Then I overassembled the documents they requested from me to annoy them.

I also went through the reclying piece by piece and retrieved all the receipts. Now I feel holy.

Darling — you are holy and wholly wonderful.  I am so grateful to share my life with you.

Okay, now I’m going to wipe the besotted expression off my face and get back to the serious bidness of griping.  If there is an occasional smile on my face…  well, you can’t blame a fellow for occasionally pausing to count his blessings.

This morning, I noticed something subtly difference about the appearance of the woods behind my house in our view from the second story skylight.  Turns out they weren’t woods in more — they had become a lake.

The water appears to still be rising.  I walked down Lynn to West North street and then down North West street (a ridiculous juxtaposition of names, especially considering that Northwest Road is just a few blocks away).  There were people *everywhere* — it looked like a sporting event. Where Squalicum creek passes under Squalicum parkway and West street, the extremely capacious waterway had been completely overwhelmed, and the street surface looked like a river in its own right.

Crazy.  Feels a little biblical.  But cool, so long as Noah doesn’t forget to stop and pick me up before my backyard falls into the creek and washes out to Bellingham Bay.

In my opinion, nothing will bring you closer to reliving your childhood than spending some quality time with someone else’s children on a snowy day.  Greyson taught me three things this morning:

1.   I am getting old.

2.  One of the advantages of getting old is that your old-person hands enable you to make *massive* snowballs.  At least compared to those that a 10 year old can make.

3.  All those childhood memories of snow making your hands tingle and ache until it feels like your fingers are going to fall off?  Those memories are TOTALLY accurate.

(Incidentally, if you look closely you’ll see that my right ear is packed full of snow in this picture.  I thought I’d lost hearing in one ear, a la George Bailey.)

In other news, I was overcome by a new form of modern “rage” in the supermarket today.  On the way in, I inadvertantly crossed paths with this other fellow — one of those accidental “dances” where, traditionally, you keep saying “excuse me” and “oh, I’m sorry” after each step, and then getting in each others’ way again.  Except in this particular case, I was the one saying “pardon me,” “excuse me,”"how silly of me” and this other guy just glared at me through the whole thing.

Once inside, I brooded about this exchange — and about how ridiculous it was for me to be so civil and apologetic while he was so arrogantly terse.  After a while, I parted ways with Cathy and went to fetch some tea.  When I saw this other fellow in baked goods, I looped around and came back along the same aisle he was in and, when he turned around, I used my cart to force him to back out of my way, glaring at him the entire time (he looked totally flummoxed).  Later, I realized I was probably suffering from something best described as “cart rage” — and even though it’s something I should probably be ashamed of, and might even need professional help with, I felt a little pleased with myself.

Watch out, all you scrooges and sourpusses out there — this is Kevin, full of The Milk of Human Crankiness, and ready to unleash it upon you.  Beware!