Sophie walks into the kitchen to see a mop out – evidence that the floors were cleaned earlier.
Sophie: (excited) My turn to clean!
Mommy: Hmm… do you want to help mommy clean your room?
Sophie: (indignant) No!
Sophie walks into the kitchen to see a mop out – evidence that the floors were cleaned earlier.
Sophie: (excited) My turn to clean!
Mommy: Hmm… do you want to help mommy clean your room?
Sophie: (indignant) No!
It’s great fun watching the IT department during a network outage. Suddenly all these people normally holed up in their offices start to poke their heads timidly out into the hallway, and then begin to roam the halls in uncertain groups, as if exploring their environment for the first time.
It makes it easy to separate the whole of IT into its component groups. The network engineers aren’t anywhere in sight – they’re busily at work troubleshooting the outage. The support staff are also working frantically to answer calls from users who are convinced it’s just their office that’s been cut off. The systems programmers have less to do, but can still talk amongst themselves about what systems might be affected, and what possible contributions they could make toward solving the problem.
And then there are the application developers. We just gather in a group, as if surrounding a campfire, acknowledge that we cannot perform any useful function at the moment, and tell stories of outages gone by.
(My favorite story was from a couple years ago when we had a power outage. The machine room was well protected, but our desktop PCs switched off like lights. As did the lights. Just as an ominous silence blanketed the building, it was instantly cut off by the brief but loud swearing from an unknown person down the hall who had clearly not hit the Save button in a little while.)
From the Frequently Asked Questions on BU’s Hillel website:
Q: So, is there Kosher food available at Hillel?
Did somebody miss a meeting or something?
When I walked into the lobby of my apartment building this evening two people were having a conversation.
What I heard:
“Yeah, we’ve got CAPTCHAs and everything.”
What was actually said:
“Yeah, we’ve got couches and everything.”
I was wondering all day what profession I’m in. Now I remember.
I’ve upheld the Washington Metrorail system as something of a paragon of a good subway system since I first visited the city in 1999. Washington needs to fix some basic faults, though.
Let’s start with an easy one. Directional signs are prone to showing an arrow beside words like, “For (dot) service,” where the “dot” is actually a colored circle – to those who aren’t color blind, at least. To those who are, it’s as descriptive as me writing “dot.” Signs on, say, the Green Line in Boston are all colored a bright green, but then in black-on-white lettering underneath we see the words, “Green Line.”
I applaud wholeheartedly the words printed at the bottom of the Metrorail system map “Metro is Accessible.” In Boston the system map carries footnotes like (I swear I’m not making this up), “State: Blue Line wheelchair access outbound side only.” We absolutely should do everything we can to allow wheelchair users full access to our transit systems (and other places), but why do all the hard work to support wheelchairs and then blow it on color blindness by not adding some simple words to the signs?
What’s worse, station signs seem to be deliberately hidden. They’re poorly lit, and almost impossible to see from inside the trains. I ride the T every day and I’ve never had trouble navigating the New York City subway. When I find myself sitting in a train thinking, “I wish I knew which stop this is,” something has gone wrong.
Compounding this problem, station announcements are still made manually, even on a system whose trains themselves can be operated by computers. Even Boston’s Green Line, built (in part) in 1867, now features clear, enunciated, automated station announcements. What keeps Washington from adding this technology?
Washington, you’ve lost my vote in the transit wars. Sure, Boston could benefit from signs counting down the minutes until the next train’s arrival, but at least we know where our stations are.
On 1 October 2006, an anonymous user viewed Wikipedia from the IP address 81.159.242.155.
At 1:15 the user added the heading “Early career” to the article on satirist David Frost. The heading has since been changed to “Early life.” Another contribution to the article on British journalist Carol Thatcher was also later removed or reformatted.
This person has made one enduring contribution, however. At precisely 5:34 pm on that day, the anonymous user added these immortal words to the article on the 1940s:
The 1940s decade ran from 1940 to 1949.
It really sums it up nicely, doesn’t it?
Dear Schweitzer Linen,
I keep requesting that you remove Ms. Kimberly, the previous occupant of my apartment, from your catalog mailing list. While she may have been a loyal customer, I have never ordered your products, and I’m opposed to printed catalogs anyway.
Crossing out her name and circling “Or Current Resident” on the catalog really wasn’t what I had in mind.
Sincerely,
Not Ms. Kimberly
(It’s more likely the circling and crossing out happened upon my building receiving the catalog, but it’s still absurd. It’s been two years now.)
Peapod, the online grocer, assumes (correctly) that most searches are for either a category (Brown Rice, Instant Rice, Rice Cereal, et cetera) or a brand (Carolina Rice, Uncle Ben’s).
Today I wanted to find Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. Knowing that I’d see a list of brands, I searched for “Ben.” Sure enough, Ben & Jerry’s is right there under “Looking for a brand?” So is Uncle Ben’s and Benadryl.
Under “Looking for a category?” I see “Skin Care Acne Medications” (and nothing else).
Blërg!
JetBlue’s new Terminal 5 at JFK is about to get a test drive. Over a thousand JetBlue frequent fliers were invited to come to the airport, get tickets, go through security, and wait at assigned gates for imaginary flights to nowhere. It’s all the best parts of travel, without having to actually fly anywhere! If they did that at Logan, I’d be in.
From the Boston Globe, 7 August 2008, describing the new terminal:
The security screening areas span a football-field-size space. There are twice as many X-ray machines as metal detectors…. Rubber floors cover the security space – because it’s more comfortable for shoeless feet than tile or carpeting. A blue wall nearby will hold a bench where travelers can sit to put their shoes back on.
It took four years and $743 million, but we’ll finally have benches to put our shoes back on. It’s about smegging time.
I’m looking for paintings, and although I didn’t particularly plan to commission one, I stumbled upon commissionapainting.com in a search. In principle, and in the abstract, it’s intriguing: find an artist you like and commission a new work. Even supposing I were sold on the idea of commissioning a new painting, I’m underwhelmed by this site.
First, the banner atop the site advertises it as commission.a.painting.com which is a completely different site. It’s a site that doesn’t exist. And it would, if it were actually valid, be a subdomain of painting.com, which Sherwin-Williams owns. So this site doesn’t even know its own web address.
Second, upon hitting the Search page, I scanned the list of countries showing how many artists are listed in each:
Worldwide
Canada (0)
USA (0)
Australia (0)
United Kingdom (0)
New Zealand (0)
In the immortal words of Tom Hanks in Big, “I don’t get it.”