After clicking “Buy it Now” on an eBay item, I got this message:
Congrats, you just bought this item.
Are we using the word “congrats” now?
After clicking “Buy it Now” on an eBay item, I got this message:
Congrats, you just bought this item.
Are we using the word “congrats” now?
I’m sure I’ve spoken before about the departures board at South Station. I love it because it’s a glorious holdover from the 1980s (and earlier). Unlike modern LED or television displays, it’s a mechanical model, where changing the information requires physically rolling over from one flap to another.
You can easily find plenty of examples of signs like this on YouTube.
Of course, the fun only really happens when it’s time for a dramatic change (e.g., moving each departure over a column to make room for more). In truth, the sign is the one aspect of South Station I really love. Railroad travel should carry a certain antiquity, even if you’re just catching a commuter rail train to Waltham.
Well, there’s good news and bad news.
The bad news? The MBTA installed a new, all-singing, all-dancing light-up sign in June, which will replace the mechanical model. There goes my favorite part of a South Station visit.
The good news? The Globe reports they’re selling it on eBay. The auction is still online (here), though it looks like some form of silent auction, where potential buyers contact the seller directly, rather than placing bids on the site. In any case, there’s no public information besides that the MBTA wants at least $500.
If only I had somewhere to put it!
In the Simpsons episode “Homer the Great” (season 6, episode 12), the leader of the secret Stonecutters organization is called Number One.
Let’s review some key moments in my experience watching this show:
In previous commentaries for Simpsons episodes, David Mirkin has taken to explaining the jokes. He’s made fun of himself for doing this, but I’d just like to say: evidently people like me can use the help.
Update: I’ve now listened to the commentary for this episode, where they didn’t mention the joke at all. I now feel slightly less bad about it.
The Huntington Theatre Company keeps sending me e-mail to announce that Carrie Fisher is coming to town on Friday. After six messages on the subject I got annoyed enough to unsubscribe from the Huntington’s mailing list. (I have nothing against Carrie Fisher, but six announcements about anything is plenty). This is what I got:
Your request has been processed and the email address has been removed from the list 20081006_CFBeginsFri_nonsubs.
Let’s decode. I just subscribed from a mailing list titled “2008-10-06 Carrie Fisher Begins Friday, non-subscribers.”
I love a mailing list that’s so specifically titled it’s virtually inconceivable it will ever be used again, whether I’m subscribed or not. Now let’s see what happens when I unsubscribe from the “2008-10-09 Carrie Fisher Still Begins Friday, non-subscribers” list when it comes out!
When my neighbors moved out in April, I submitted a list of demands for their replacements. Now that the building is full of students again, I can evaluate how well my demands have been met.
Demand #9 addressed whether or not it should be permitted to stand on one’s balcony and shout obscenities at runners in the Boston Marathon.
Although I will only be able to fully evaluate compliance with this rule in April, the outlook is already bleak. The new people in that particular apartment have already developed two new hobbies to be conducted from their balcony. One is conversing with people on the street or in other buildings, which is just stupid.
The other is dropping objects from the same balcony, with apparent hopes of hitting pedestrians or cars. Besides breaking several laws, this tends to cause cars to then (also illegally) sound their horns. Nothing about this is good.
On the way to a party for a coworker’s promotion last week, I commented that I was considering moving to a neighborhood we passed on the way there. A coworker announced that he’d lived there recently, but that he didn’t like it because it was too quiet. It’s now officially at the top of my “most preferred” list.
FedEx has added a note to my online tracking that I’ve never noticed before (or I just haven’t received a FedEx package in a long time):
Oct 3, 2008 9:50 pm Departed FedEx location BROOKLYN, NY
Next scheduled tracking update: Oct 4, 2008
In other words, “This thing is on a truck. We won’t be scanning it again until tomorrow. Go to bed.”
Of course, once October 4th rolled around, I still spent all day refreshing the tracking page and staring out the window until I saw the truck. This still doesn’t quite solve the “Aww, still in Memphis.” problem, but it’s a step.
Following are names that are mine:
Fenster
Following are examples of names that are not mine, but that someone might use in a playful manner:
Benster, Fenstermacher, Fenstmeister
Following are names that I wish my HR department hadn’t used when setting up my retirement plan:
Fenstmeister
Let’s examine the practical implications of using liquid body wash instead of traditional bar soap.
Advantage: There’s no soap scum runoff down the side of the shower, making it significantly easier to clean.
Disadvantage: There’s a greater risk that on particularly sleepy mornings the soap will be mistaken for shampoo.
(It doesn’t work very well.)
After ejecting a DVD from my computer, I accidentally dropped it in the 24 cm gap between my desk and the wall. While this isn’t good, it’s surely a problem easily solved.
Were this an ordinary DVD, my solution to the problem might have been:
Unfortunately, this was a Mythbusters DVD I’d just finished watching. In these circumstances, the first solution that actually came to mind was (I swear):
This show seems to have influenced my desire to build elaborate and largely unnecessary contraptions.
Then matters got worse. I began this post, and wanted to know the distance of my desk from the wall. Simple! I used my hand to bridge most of the gap, and based on Wikipedia’s assertion that an average adult male’s hand is about 19 cm long reasoned that the gap was probably 21 or 22 cm.
Once all that was worked out, it occurred to me I might just use the measuring tape.
I’m somehow reminded of the Simpsons episode Homer the Heretic, where the townspeople find themselves trapped in the church during a blizzard. When Lisa starts to pray, Bart interrupts her: “Lisa, this is neither the time nor the place!”
On the train home, while in the middle of reading a particularly interesting page of my Wired magazine, I overheard this from the woman on the phone next to me:
I should tell him I can’t go – I’m going to a concert. (pause) It’s this guy who got started on the Internet. He did a new song every week for a year – like one called Code Monkey about a programmer.
“Ah ha!” thought I to myself (after the words “every week”). “I know that guy!” She was, of course, referring to Jonathan Coulton. That particular song, about a software developer who hates his job and has a crush on the woman at the front desk, inspired any number of YouTube videos (including a group project that represents the “genre” well).
How amazingly fortunate that he’ll be in Boston and that I learned of it from someone else’s phone call on the train! Of course, the moment I got home I checked his schedule of upcoming shows for details. He will next be playing on October 24th! At Whelan’s! In Dublin, Ireland! Wait…
Blërg!
I knew I should have interrupted the nice lady’s phone call to ask for details. Maybe she’s just going to Ireland in a month.