“Re-launching” this Jalopy
Jalopy outside of Wells, NV
And about to get a lot more technical. We have a blog over at d27n which no one really used, I’ve decided to reboot the d27n site and retire the blog yet I still needed a place to share long-form content.
Less politics, because seriously, what’s the fucking point?; a lot more jQuery, Node.js, and big data. Yay?
More startup tips, culture, and what not, ‘cuz I’ve been there, done that, and this time I’m at the nucleus. I have to admit it’s a bit weird doing it now at 38, I’ve kinda seen everything, the first giant meltdown, the rebuild, the energized children who really don’t have a clue as to what they’re doing (God bless their drunken optimistic hearts). Oddly, I don’t see it as an advantage. Rich people love bug-eyed kids with great hair product and whacky ideas. My self-determined pass/fail comes December 22, the winter solstice, thus the name: Project Solstice. More on that later.
Also photos. Love taking photos, I may suck at it, but it gives me peace.
Well, Hello There, Blog Peoples!
So, I don’t update this too often any more. (Look at those election results in the last post! Relevant, right? OMG, who won?! Was it the black guy?! NOOOO WAYYYYY!)
I guess I went all “rogue” and “mavericky.” I heard that’s how to be a real Murkin now.
But, fear not, you can still find me on the internet machine:
Facebook (oh, just go look it up if you know me…)
Nothing new here. I heard there were some financial troubles and I’ve learned I can reproduce asexually… cool, huh? What’s up with you?
Two-thirds of my company went to some National Parks recently. That there’s a photo below.
Bust Out the Cock-O-Meter
Bust out the cock-o-meter. She’s all mine now and I will do many dirty filthy and unspeakable things to her.
Well Insulated
Came home today around 7. It’s around, oh, 68 outside. Inside my house? 83.
Open windows do me no good when there’s no breeze.
I does dawn on me, however, that since I’m not renting I could put a pool in my living room without any disclosure…
Nevermind, I know what I’m doing tomorrow.
Living room pool! Clothing optional! Any takers?
My Favorite 5 Days of the Year
Property taxes due today.
Income tax due in 5.
This searchable database over at the Chronicle really irritated me. Over 8,000 SF city & county employees are paid over $100k a year. A lot of that is overtime. A “special nurse” for the DPH was paid $117k base and $216k in overtime in 2007 netting $350,324. Cops, firefighters, DAs and bureaucrats fill out the ranks of the extremely overpaid. Why is this city insisting on making a Republican out of me? I mean, there is a fiscal shortfall and all. My uber-coiffed mayor wants a crackdown, but I just doubt it’s gonna happen. Once you can afford the ultimate feast at Red Lobster every night, there’s no going back without a fight.
Don’t even get me started on that Olympic Torch nonsense yesterday…
Just Kill Me
Few days ago got a call from the BMW dealer. “We’ve got the M3 in, wanna come in for a drive?” Friend from work’s interested in a 135i. Today was the day we’d get to filthily molest ’em both.
We get there and the 135i is an automatic. Well, shitfaddle. “Sport mode with paddle shifters” provides a little fun. The engine’s sultry purr is seductive.
Then we get to the M3. All tingly with excitement, he runs off to get the key, and upon returning informs me I can’t take the car above 3500rpm. True of all of them until 1500 miles. Odometer? 64. I can get all the way up to school zone speeds! Just pinch me!
So while I couldn’t man-handle the beast, I turn to Top Gear to do that for me:
Heh. “Cock-O-Meter”
Happy Thanksgiving!
Memorable:
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Wednesday, half day, goodbye lunch for another employee which shifts ever more responsibility on to me. I will miss her though.
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About 4:30 that afternoon, I’m sitting in the ER having a massive panic attack. (No, the above isn’t a trigger, that scene is played out like twice a week and if I’m at peace with anything, it’s that.) While freaking at the ER — feelings of going crazy, imminent death, profuse sweating, and BP so high I’m unable to articulate full sentences, I wait an hour or two as a colorful parade of street drunks go right through the VIP line, no waiting required. Cuz I “look” normal, nervous pacing and rapid short breathing aside. I keep muttering to Mason, “just 1mg of Ativan and I can turn the corner.”
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Nurse finally calls. “Probably panic attack, just need a mg of Ativan,” I’m begging. BP machine doesn’t work; the 5th take finally gets a reading. Much to her surprise, it’s spectacularly high. As is my heart rate. Blood O2 low, too, from all the rapid shallow breathing. Hey, guess he’s not lying! I’m asked to pee in a cup and strip down and get into a gown. I’m ushered into a room.
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Space limited. Room divided by curtain, crazed ramblings coming from the other side. I try to remain as quiet as a mouse. I’m offered a Turkey recipe from behind the curtain, which I don’t even acknowledge. But to her mind-altered credit, she was topical, even if delivered as “Hey, fuck hey there, you, oh my fucking god, I’ve got the best, [hack hack hack], best fucking Turkey recipe.” I kept quiet. She was snoring less than a minute later.
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See Doc. Obviously knows his stuff. Two minutes later Ativan arrives. 2 more minutes and I’m starting to relax and my BP had dropped 40%.
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Given Rx for Ativan. Met with Doc no more than 1 full minute. Discharged, Mason’s obviously terrified about my well being, by taking a nap. I think he’s snooring.
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Since tomorrow’s Thanksgiving, force myself to go Turkey shopping, after a stop by the Walgreens pharmacy to stock up on Ativan.
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So… Thanksgiving was nice. Relaxing. Cooking on Ativan, fun, if not especially efficient. That’s my little 12-pounder to the right. Delicious!
Happy Thanksgiving, y’all!
Woohoo! Revel in my wealth!
After nearly 15 months of Google Ads, looks like I’m finally gonna get cut a check.
Was it worth it? Fuck no. But.. it’s $100 I didn’t have last month.
How much do I rock? Apparently about 21c a day worth.
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