A 7-11 post, because why not?

After this sad but logical announcement of the reduction in size of the 7-11 Double Gulp, and after a brief but enjoyable hour-long running/jogging/walking session listening to a podcast of geeks in their 30s discussing Prometheus, I stopped by 7-11 to experience the new, smaller Double Gulp. 

As you can see, even though 64 to 50 ounces sounds like a major reduction, I was not disappointed nor did my memory suddenly remind me of the fondness of the over-sized and awkward grip I had on original Double Gulps. Now, all this being said, I am ready for a re-fill. Would those 14 ounces have made a difference? Yes. 12 ounces is a single soda can. So. All this is to say that 7-11 has a new Double Gulp. It is acceptable, but you end up finishing it quicker than their classic Double Gulps. And I could have finished grading 3-4 essays in the time I spent writing this and figuring out the best way to get a photo on my phone to Blogger for this post. The Superman Returns Slurpee cup and the empty (or is it?) taquitos wrapper on the counter? My computer being on my kitchen counter? My choice of Instagram filter? The microwave that is probably leaking radiation when used because of damages sustained by Todd and Greg's airsoft wars? These are all topics for another evening - perhaps even topics for another man to discuss. 


Now, off to grade essays. Or, to watch Hara-Kiri Death of a Samurai. Choices, decisions...These are the moments life and fate are made of. Is fate real? Does it matter? I'm going to go ask my beheaded android friend David and we'll discuss these matters while traveling from this moon, which is not a planet, and not the same moon/planet from Alien, as we travel together in my flute-navigated spaceship in search of answers to these profound and original questions. Oh, and what is in my Double Gulp? Black goop.

Poor Choice of Words

Helpful hint for employers posting jobs on Craigslist: use abbreviations only when necessary, and take care what abbreviations you use. It can make your ad look significantly worse than you intend:

"Pedo" for pediatric.... just... terrible choice of words.

The Great Dead Double Battery Caper

Last night and this morning I had an adventure of sorts. It started yesterday at around 7 PM, when I drove to Central City Comics to play in their weekly Magic tournament. It was just starting to get dark, so I turned my lights on on the way there.

I played in the tournament, had fun, and got back to the car at about midnight. I was going to drive myself and my friend to a fast food place for a post-tournament victory dinner, so I unlocked my door and pressed the automatic unlock button on the door to unlock the passenger side door. Nothing happened. I tried again. Still nothing.

Then I noticed that my light switch was still on. I had left my lights on for the entire 5 hours, and when I tried to start the car, nothing but a dead *click* resulted. So, my friend brought his car over so we could jump-start my car. However, there was a problem: on old diesel cars, they require quite a bit of power to first power the glow plugs and then crank the high-pressure diesel engine. Mercedes diesels got around this by using a giant battery. GM diesels, on the other hand, simply used two regular-sized car batteries wired in parallel. This presents a problem for attempting to jump start a totally dead battery: you need a source charging BOTH batteries, and only charging one will simply not work.

So, after trying to jump-start it with only one (switching it back and forth a couple times to try to get some charge in each battery) for about 15 minutes, we finally gave up and decided to come back the next day armed with one of our roommates and their car to do the required double jump-start. My friend gave me a ride home, and I went to bed.

At 5:30 in the morning, I got a call on my cell phone. "Is this George?" the voice asked.
"Yes," I answered groggily.
"Hi there George, this is Officer So-and-so from the Ellensburg Police Department, is your Oldsmobile diesel car parked downtown?"
"Yes," I said, wondering what the problem was (I had specifically checked to make sure it was legal to park in that space overnight).
"Well, because of the Farmer's Market today, your car is in a tow zone, and I'll need to tow it away if you can't get it out of here before 6 AM. I really don't want you to have your car towed, is there any way you can get down here and move it?"
I explained the dual-battery jump-starting situation, and asked him if I could get my friend down there right away if he could provide the jump on the other side.
"Sure, just get here before 6AM," he said.

So I frantically called my friend, dreading him not picking up his phone given the early hour. Three rings. "Hello?"
"Hey can you come pick me up and then take me to my car right now so we can jump it, the police are there and it'll get towed if I can't get it moved."
"Oh, OK," he said, "I'll be there in 5 to 10 minutes."

We got to my car at about 5:50, and the officer was waiting there with his portable car-jumper in hand. We hooked up both batteries, let it charge for about 1 minute, and then it started right up! I thanked the officer profusely for his help and for giving me a chance to get my car started instead of just having it towed.
"Well, you saved me a lot of paperwork," he said, "glad I could help."

I bought my friend doughnuts for breakfast, drove around for about 15 minutes to charge the battery, and came home. All was well.

Three lessons learned:
1) Have a spare car-jumper in the car for future emergencies (I now have one). Even in a single-battery car this is a pretty good idea for no-one-else-around-middle-of-nowhere types of situations.
2) The Ellensburg Police can be pretty cool about things (I sort of already knew this from previous encounters with them). I can't imagine a big-city cop actually CALLING you to try to save you from a tow.
3) 5:30 is very early, especially when you got to bed at about 1 AM. I'm taking a nap now.

Breaking into My Car(s)

Today I had the pleasure of locking my keys in my car, and, having no spares, being forced to find a way in.

In the end, I was able to get in using a clotheshanger, by pushing down on the electric window-opener (which only worked because the keys were in the ignition). It took about 10 minutes (5 to think of what to do, 5 to get in using the clotheshanger).

It made me think about getting into / getting locked out of previous cars I've owned.

1. 1993 Dodge Grand Caravan
It happened quite a few times with the Caravan, but I had a nifty plastic wallet key so I was always able to get back in.

2. 1979 Mercedes-Benz 300SD
It happened one or two times with the Mercedes, which I (luckily) had a spare key for, so I was always able to use that to get back in. And that was a good thing, because the Mercedes doors, locks, and windows were built like a tank. I would never have been able to "break in" without a key.

3. 1983 Chevy Chevette
I don't remember ever locking myself out of the Chevette, probably because it worked so infrequently that I almost never drove it.

4. 1981 Ford Escort
It was impossible to lock myself out of the Escort, because it only locked from the outside (it was missing the push-down lock button on the driver's side).

5. 1983 Dodge Ramcharger
Surprisingly easy to break into, because the windows would roll down basically just by pushing them down.

6. 1981 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme Brougham
Already explained at the beginning of this entry.

The moral of the story is: it's cool to be talented enough to break into your own car, but it's much easier to simply own a spare key. Also: although most modern clotheshangers are the plastic type, it's a good idea to have a few of the old metal wire ones: you never know when you'll need one!

Today in Google autofill fun...

That Guy's Got a Lot of Verve

I was leaving early in the morning last week to go print out some things before class. My roommate stopped me on the way out the door, "Hey, man, I noticed that you had some of those Rockstar energy drinks in the fridge, thought you might want to try one that I've been using lately," he said, sounding a bit stilted and offering me a "Verve! Energy Shot".
"Oh... thanks!" I said, "I'll give this a shot."
"Yeah, let me know what you think!"

"Uhhh, OK, will do," and I left. This event struck me as odd, but not extremely so. I just figured he really liked this energy drink. Then I tried it, and decided that he had given it to me because he DIDN'T like it and was trying to get rid of it.

Then, two days ago, I got a knock at the door to my room. I answered, "Yes?"
"Oh, hey man, I made you this little finals week care package, it's just something I like to do," he said, offering me a yogurt cup, a cheesestick, and a "Verve! Energy Drink".
"Ummmm... thanks," I said, confused, and went back into my room with the goods. This was a different drink than the first one, but still a "Verve!" brand drink. This roommate didn't do any kind of "care package" last quarter and, if you ask me, a cheesestick, yogurt cup, and energy drink is a pretty crappy care package and more closely resembles "stuff I don't want in my fridge anymore."

So, I was suspicious.

I looked closer at the can of "Verve!". It had the motto, "Insanely Healthy Energy". So I looked at the ingredients and noticed that there was nothing insanely healthy or even different from any other energy drink about them. The only difference between this and other energy drinks was that this one tasted like the energy drinks you get at Big Lots for 60¢ each. In other words, not spectacular. Nor did it energize me. So, I looked up Verve! online. Ah-HA! Looks like the only way one can get Verve! is by buying it from one of their "independent distributors" OR becoming a distributor yourself! Classic pyramid scheme, or as they try to advertise them now, "Multi-level marketing" (or MLM).

So, clearly, my roommate is trying to get me to buy crappy energy drinks from him. The "care package" thing actually sounds like the kind of "great idea" an infomercial would have for "subtly" trying to lasso your friends into buying junk from you.

I wonder how many free drinks he'll give me before breaking down and asking if I like it enough to buy it, at which point my answer would be, "No, you should sell Rockstar."

Fighting my (Negative) Nature

Today I was fairly (no, extremely) angry and frustrated when I arrived to pick up my daily allotment of newspapers to deliver to find that there were 4 complaints about not receiving a newspaper on Saturday morning, and 2 of those complaints were canceling their subscription due to my "poor service".

Yes, I did not get papers to several people on Saturday morning, due to weather conditions in which I literally could NOT get to those people's houses to deliver their papers. Other than (highly) inclement weather, I have ALWAYS delivered these people their newspapers. So 100+ delivered papers and about 3-4 undelivered papers (which were always brought by the next day, by the way), and suddenly that constitutes poor service.

I was pretty angry all day, thinking of long letters I would like to leave in those people's newspapers boxes, explaining in great detail why they are colossal jerks.

Then it hit me.

These people, having received good service the vast majority of the time, decided to focus on the few times that they felt they did not receive good service.

Similarly, I, having received good treatment from the vast majority of my customers, decided to focus on the few ones who treated me poorly.

So then I got to thinking, why IS it that we tend to focus so much more on the bad things that happen than on the vast majority of GOOD (or at least neutral) things? I believe the answer is that we are biologically inclined to pay special attention to bad things. From a survival standpoint, this completely makes sense. Those people that would have been inclined towards paying attention to bad things (like a small amount of poisonous berries in a large patch of good berries) would survive at a higher rate than those who gave equal attention to both good and bad.

So, I'm no longer upset. I'm just a descendent of survivors, just like those disgruntled newspaper subscribers.