Geek Life

No Rest For The Geeky

• by GeekMan • In Breaking News, Geek Life, Traveling •   7

I am tired.

Sick and tired. No, really. I’m sick and very, very tired. I just got back from Shanghai, after going to Barcelona and then Orlando, and all I want to do is curl up under the covers and sleep until the chorus line of 2 ton llamas behind my eyeballs decide to stop tap-dancing. Unfortunately for poor little old me, I don’t have time to rest since I have to go directly to another job today where I will most likely be shackled to my chair for long hours at a time and forced to create horrible, simplistic, menial graphic art for large sums of money.

Tragic, really.

So, as I sit here attempting to force my body to heal like some charlatan faith healer in Bumblefrick, Alabama, I thought I might as well update my web site in the off chance that someone out there was still reading it. Not that I actually think anyone ever did, it’s just that a guy needs goals, you know? Like being a fireman, or a world renowned athlete or a superhero.

Or in my case, an emotionally stunted, raving lunatic with a website. Whatever.

Anywaste, while I was away working last month I was getting calls for work all this month. And, as I am ever in need of more money, I was foolish enough to accept each and every bit of work thrown my way. In fact, my entire month of February, with the possible exception of the 15th and 16th, is booked solid.

This is a good thing.

Good because it means I might once again have money in the bank and will hopefully still have that money when my wedding rolls around and I find myself staring at the HUGE pile of bills that will be attacking me as soon as I say, “I do.” They’ll be there, hiding behind the altar or under the maid of honors’ dress, I just know it. Stalking me. Hunting me. Ready to pounce on me like a… like a… like a tiger. Like a tiger pouncing on a small and feeble forest fawn. A wounded fawn. With a broken leg. And no sense of smell. And… uh, blind. Yeah, blind. And deaf. Oh, and uh… asleep. On the ground. Uh… sleeping.

Yeah. Like that.

So, I’m going to go to bed now. I’ll be telling you all about my wild adventures in foreign lands throughout the week, but for right now all I want to do is rest. I’ve taken an Aleve Cold & Sinus tablet so I should be falling into a blissfully symptom-free sleep any second now. Yep, any second now I’ll be in dreamland.

…

Yep, just you watch. I’m going to be Slumberlands newest denizen faster than you can say, “Get well soon.”

…

Hmmm, this is taking a little longer than anticipated. But don’t you worry, I’m going to get a good night sleep if it’s the last thing I do.

…

[humming to self]

…

Dammit. I know I took the stupid pill. What does this box say? What?! NON-DROWSY!

Son of a… zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…

Meeting Boris

• by GeekMan • In Geek Life •   6

December 26th was a morning like any other.

I woke up with the expected bleary eyes and rancid breath of one who had spent far too many hours the night before playing Morrowind and eating Funny Bones. After greeting the morning with my usual “Argh! The light enrages me.” I slithered from my side of the bed and made my way to the bathroom to relieve the insistent pressure of 8 hours worth of liquid refuse buildup. After milking my loins dry I proceeded to the sink to wash my hands and possibly brush my teeth.

“Salutations!”
“Huh?”
“Good morning!”
“Who said that?”
“Me!”
“Who that say ‘me’?”
“Me say ‘me’!”
“Who that say ‘me say me’?”
“Me! Boris!”
“Who the hell is Boris?”
“Me! Right here! Hello! Good morning!”

Looking into the mirror I finally caught a glimpse of the owner of the terminally chipper voice and felt my soul shrivel up and die inside me. For there, right before me in the bathroom mirror, was the one thing that no man wishes to see in his lifetime. The one thing that will prove to him beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is old, OLD, OLD and should simply be put out to pasture in sympathy, or given a quick and painless mercy death by his closest kin.

I had a nose hair.

Not your everyday garden variety nose hair, either. No, that would be far too ‘normal’ for one such as me. What I had wasn’t so much a nose hair as it was the probing tentacle of some giant nostril squid searching for prey upon the open fields of my upper lip. It stuck out a good quarter inch from my nose and vibrated happily with every breath I took.

I swear to you, it looked frickin happy.

But the worst part wasn’t that it was so happy, so thrilled to have seen the light of day. The worst part was that it was there at all. I mean, when I went to sleep the night before I had no idea that I would wake up with a mutant hair sprouting forth from my nose like a miniature tendril of shame. It grew there overnight and somehow managed to grow longer and faster than any hair I’ve ever heard tell of before. And so now, there it sat. Torturing me with its blatant disregard for my mental and emotional well being and knowing full well that it would take years of expensive therapy for me to recover from the psychological effects of its appearance in my life.

Well, one thing was certain. The little bastard had to go, and go now.

Grabbing my handy-dandy tweezers from the ‘In Case of Emergency – Break Glass’ box next to the medicine cabinet, I clasped the bastard by his tiny, pointed head, grimaced in anticipation and gave the offending hair a mighty yank.

And fell, screaming in pain, to the bathroom floor.

I had not realized that such a small thing could cause such a great amount of pain. Apparently, the teensy-tiny hair had its roots located somewhere deep within my frontal lobe and my attempt to remove it from my nose had started a chain reaction of pain so intense that fireworks went off behind my eyes and black spots appeared in my vision. Looking at the tweezers in my hand I realized with a start that there was no hair held between the two tiny clamps. Somehow, the evil hair had managed to retain its grip and still protruded prominently from my nose.

And he was humming.

With teary eyes and a faint whimper, I once again raised the tweezers and prepared myself for pain.

“Hey! That’s not very neighborly of you! What ever happened to a home baked pie and a hearty, ‘Welcome to the neighborhood’?”
“Shut up hair. You’re a blight upon my very existence and I will purge you from my being if it’s the last thing I ever do.”
“You know, that’s really going to hurt.”
“I know.”
“It’ll hurt you more than it hurts me!”
“I know.”

The tweezers grasped his tiny head and I steeled myself for the pull.

“Why not live and let live?”
“Don’t try to talk me out of it, devil creature. You must be destroyed before you spawn and if that means giving you freedom from my nose while causing myself great pain in the process, so be it.”
“I don’t want freedom! I just wanted to see what it looked like outside! I’m scared!”
“If I could, I’d put your root on a spike and sit it at the entrance to my nose as a warning to all the other hairs to never grow beyond their boundaries.”
“You’re a very sick man, you know that?”
“Yes.”

With that I yanked good and hard on the tweezers. The last thing I heard before I blacked out was a tiny voice screaming, “Freedom! Noooo! Cruel and horrible freedom!”

Then, the darkness claimed me.

This Is Worth The Beating I’ll Receive Later

• by GeekMan • In Geek Life, HoBiscuit •   4

Last nights actual conversation as I finally join HoBiscuit in bed at 1:30am.

“Goodnight, Sweetie.”
“Hmmmm? GeekMan?”
“Yes?”
“Did you click the right option?”
“What?”
“We need… option, or we won’t work. Crash.”
[snicker] “Honey, are you sleeping?”
“I don’t know.”
“Go back to sleep, Honey. You’re not making any sense.”
“But I am sleeping. The frog’s email said so.”
“…”
“I think I’m dreaming.”
“Ribbit, ribbit.”
“That’s right.”
[HoBiscuit begins to snore lightly as GeekMan shakes uncontrollably with suppressed laughter.]

I think my girl’s been working too hard.

Leftover Angst

• by GeekMan • In Geek Life, HoBiscuit, Rants •   5

I don’t like to eat leftovers.

To my male friends this is perfectly acceptable; to the lovely HoBiscuit however, this is a crime of such heinous proportions that flogging would be too good for me. She feels that if I cook a meal for the two of us and we don’t finish the entire thing in one setting, that we MUST save the leftovers and eat the exact same meal the following night.

Even if all that’s left over is one frickin taco.

It’s even worse when we go out to dinner. It’s gotten so bad that I’m actually frightened to ask her if she wants to eat out. It’s true! If I order some food and don’t finish everything on my plate HoBiscuit will give me *The Look™ and I’ll find myself quivering in a corner begging for forgiveness for the rest of the night.

*The Look™ is a skill passed down to women, from Mother to Daughter, ever since the first caveman pissed off the first cavewoman. The Look™ has one single use, and that is to put the FEAR OF GOD in any man or child who pisses off said woman. If you have never been the recipient of The Look™ then count yourself lucky and join a men only monastery before it’s too late.

I’m not kidding. It’s frickin scary.

Now, I don’t know exactly where it’s written, but somewhere within the Holy Books of Immaculate Foodology there must be a passage that says something like;

And spaketh He, “Ifith thou dost not cleaneth thy plate at every meal, whether it be at thine own table or upon the table of stranger or friend, thou shalt burn in the fiery pits of the netherworld and forevermore be forsaken from the gates of my kingdom.” So spaketh He, so it is written and so it shall be done.

Can I get an Amen?

Anywaste, we fight all the time about leftover food. I don’t like to eat it, no matter how artfully it’s concealed under sauces, cleverly mixed with other leftovers or shockingly re-spiced. Meanwhile HoBiscuit gets angry with me whenever I suggest eating out or ordering in if we have even one plastic container of leftover mystery meat. I’m scared to eat in my own home unless HoBiscuit gives my choice of food the nod. And now, she’s getting upset with me when I won’t make food decisions without her input due to my fear of The Look™. She’s beginning to think I’m a helpless moron, but I’m not. I just don’t feel safe eating anything anymore unless she tells me I can.

For some reason, that makes her even angrier.

Oh well, I guess this is all part of learning to live together and getting married. Fighting over leftovers will just be one of those things we’ll do as a couple that will drive us, and everyone around us, crazy. We’ll just have to learn to live with it. That reminds me, Honey? Can I make myself a sandwich for lunch, or should I eat the leftover taco first?

Call me, I’m hungry.

Why Doesn’t It Happen To Me?

• by GeekMan • In Breaking News, Geek Life, Rants •   1

I’ve got a headache this big, and it’s got Format C:\ written all over it.

So, since I had to rebuild my entire PC today, thanks to the amazingly comical-in-hindsight fiasco of yesterday, I decided it was about time to install and set up my wireless network, Wacom tablet, voice recognition software and soundcard (the fabulous Terratec DMX 6Fire 24/96 for those who will care) on my new computer. I’ve spent the entire day making sure everything was installed properly and running smoothly, taking great pains to hunt for and download all the latest drivers and software updates for everything I installed. Even though I was very careful and meticulous, I fully expected that something would go wrong.

But, miracle of miracles, nothing bad happened.

And now I’m really pissed off. My computer is running perfectly, the only signs of change being the brand new, front mounted, Terratec sound recording module and the Wacom tablet. I was fully expecting something to happen, something significantly horrible to warrant a scathingly satirical post here. Something that would allow me to write such a creatively funny and vindictive diatribe that somewhere in the world the software programmer of whatever was the object of my ire would spontaneously burst into flames at the exact moment I hit the ‘post’ button in Moveable Type. But now, as I sit here typing into my perfectly functional and completely non-crashing computer, only one thought is running through my head.

I have absolutely nothing funny to say today. This frickin sucks.

Note To Self

• by GeekMan • In Geek Life, HoBiscuit, Rants •   2

You are a frickin Moron.

When next you get the urge to install Sony Clie versions of the Palm desktop onto your computer at 11pm on a Sunday night, do your level best to resist the temptation. If you are unable to resist and you actually begin the installation process you will not be surprised to find that problems arise causing your computer to freeze and then refuse to boot. At that point in your horrid, sorry excuse for a life, you must try your frickin hardest to accept your own stupidity and simply turn off the computer and wait until a more reasonable hour to troubleshoot.

For example, 3:00 pm on Doomsday, the Day of Ultimate Judgment.

Whatever you do, do not, I repeat, do not use Windows System Restore to try and save your Geeky anus. Especially at 1:30 in the morning the day before a very important conference call during which you abso-frickin-lutely know you will need to use your computer. Doing so will only lead to heartache and pain.

And cursing. Lord forbid we forget the cursing.

In conclusion, the next time HoBiscuit politely asks you to install something on the computer, think carefully before attempting to help her. Should you somehow find that you have inadvertently gone ahead and installed the Palm software, leading to the System Restore fiasco, and culminating in a frantic attempt to rebuild an entire computer’s software installation and preferences overnight, allow me, that is, you, to offer these last few words of advice.

Don’t be frickin stupid. Buying her a new Clie sure beats going to jail for murder.

Cue ‘Deep Thought’ Music

• by GeekMan • In Geek Life •   3

My life needs a sound track.

Wouldn’t it be really, really cool if, right after you say something particularly witty, a laugh track would play? You know, like in a sitcom? Just so everyone around you would know you had said something funny? Like when your girlfriend/fiancée/wife tells you she thinks she lost some weight and you say, “Turn around, I think I’ve found it.”? If there were a laugh track, you might not get hit so hard.

Well, at least when you did get hit someone would be laughing.

Or better yet, how about a personal theme song? Not the kind that follows you around or plays every time you enter a room, no. That would get annoying real fast. What I’m talking about is the kind of theme song that plays right after you say or do something that will undoubtedly lead you on some sort of wild adventure around the world. Or perhaps as a prelude to a mystery, international crisis, or a torrid love affair.

You know, something cool like in CSI or Amazing Race.

Imagine how much easier life would be if, right after saying, “I’ll study for that test tomorrow.” you heard your theme song start up. You’d know right then and there that some sort of mixup, leading to a misunderstanding about stolen test answers and culminating in a cross-dressing fiasco at the dean’s house party would be happening in your future. 9 times out of 10 you’d turn your sorry butt around and hit the books.

But man, that one time out of ten would be HELLA cool!

I Hate Laundry

• by GeekMan • In Geek Life, HoBiscuit, Rants •   9

Can anyone explain this to me?

When I was living alone, doing laundry was a simple task. Put all my clothes into a laundry bag, take said bag to the Laundromat and then pick them up the next day. Overnight, my laundry would be magically cleaned, fluffed and expertly folded so that the only thing I needed to do on my own was put them into the proper drawers in the dresser.

And then came HoBiscuit the Taskmaster.

Now, not only am I supposed to do my own laundry, but I have to do hers as well. And let me tell you understanding the finer points of washing sweaters ( ‘delicate’ cycle only, extra spin and then medium dry) versus delicates (‘gentle’ cycle, low dry) versus blouses (‘gentle’, hang dry) is enough to drive anyone mad. But what makes it even worse is that apparently my clothes don’t warrant such attention. The only excuse she seems willing to give me is that my clothes are somehow ‘stronger’ than hers when it comes to washing care.

Why her jeans need to be carefully and meticulously turned inside out before washing while mine are simply thrown into the washer as is, is beyond me.

But all of that is peanuts when you take into account the horrible affront to my clothings’ civil liberties that HoBiscuit enacts each and every laundry day. It is horrible, simply horrible. Do you know what she’s doing? She’s teaching me to segregate my laundry, you know, separate the colors from the whites? Wasn’t that made illegal with the thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution? I tried that argument with HoBiscuit, but she simply ignored me and went about her business telling me that I should stop my whining and grow up.

Well my friends, I have a Dream.

[begin Martin Luther King, Jr. voice]

I have a Dream.

I have a Dream that one day every Washer shall be exalted, every Bleach and Softener shall be made low, the Dryer Sheet will be made unnecessary, and the Single Loader will be made Double, and the glory of the Laundry shall be revealed, and all Fabrics shall see it together.

I have a Dream that one day, White clothing, and Dark Clothing, and clothes of all the colors of the rainbow can be washed together in peace and harmony.

This is my hope. This is the faith with which I return to the Doing Of Laundry. With this faith I will be able to hew out of the Mountain Of Dirty Clothes a Sock Of Hope. With this faith I will be able to transform the tattered remains of my favorite T-Shirt into a beautiful Sweater. With this faith I will be able to work, to pray, to struggle, and to stand up for righteousness, knowing that my clothes will be free one day.

That will be the day when all of Geek’s clothing will be able to sing with a new meaning, “My clothing, ’tis of thee, sweet clothes that are dirty, of thee I sing. Wash where my colors died, wash of the Snuggles pride, from every Cheer and Tide, let freedom ring.”

Let Freedom Ring!

When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every Sit-N-Spin and every Wash-N-Go, from every Bubble Heaven and every Spot-Less, we will be able to speed up that day when all the world’s Clothing, black clothes and white clothes, silk and cotton, nylon and rayon, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Laundromat spiritual,

“Clean at last! Clean at last! Thank God Almighty, we are clean at last!”

[end Martin Luther King, Jr. voice]

I Need A Haircut

• by GeekMan • In Bread, Geek Life •   1

GeekMan is sitting in front of the TV in his underwear playing Unreal Championship. He’s not doing very well and is spending more time cursing the screen as he waits to re-spawn than he is actually playing. Bread enters the room.

“Hey, Bub.”
“Aaaargh!”
“Man, you suck.”
“Sigh. What do you want Bread?”
“Nothing really. I was just wondering if you’re feeling depressed or something?”
“Uh, no. No more than usual, why?”
“Well, me and the girls are a little worried about you. You ain’t been yourself lately.”
“What do you mean, exactly?”
“Well, we’ve all noticed that you’ve been taking longer and longer showers, but you haven’t shaved in over a week.”
“Listen, I’ve told you a thousand times to knock before coming in! And I was… uh, washing my privates, nothing else. I just like to be really, really thorough, is all.”
“Riiiiight. ‘Washing’ your privates. And I guess all that moaning was your reenactment of the ‘Herbal Essence’ commercials, huh?”
“…”
*snicker*
“I really hate you sometimes.”
“Well, forget the showers for now. What about the lack of shaving?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I just haven’t felt like shaving lately. I wanted to see what I would look like with a beard.”
“So you want to look like a Neanderthal with the plague?”
“It’s not that bad!”
“Listen to me, you putz. It looks like the roadkill remains of a black badger with Atopic Dermatitis has been stapled to your face.”
“Really?”
“Really, really. And your hair is even worse. When’s the last time you had a haircut?”
“Uh… I don’t know. Maybe last year?”
“And it hasn’t occurred to you that maybe, just maybe you should get it cut? Unless, of course, you enjoy scaring small children at the mall or being mistaken for a dark-haired Yahoo Serious?”
“Egad! I look like a two-bit, Aussie, washed-up-before-he-ever-got-started actor?”
“Not really, no.”
“Whew! You had me scared for a minute there.”
“You remember what Harrison Ford looked like in ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’?”
“I look like Indiana Jones?”
“No. You make Yahoo look like Indiana Jones.”
“Oh. My. God.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“So, you’re saying I need a haircut?”
“And a shave. Don’t forget that.”
“OK. Damn, I didn’t think it was that bad. I guess I should go to the barbershop then.”
“Damn straight, you should.”
“Right. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Wow, worse than Yahoo. Man, I’m ugly…”

[GeekMan leaves room]

“Hey, Sugah?”
“Yeah, Miss Ex-Boxx?”
“That was real nice of you. I never would have guessed you would care enough about GeekMan to look out for his personal appearance.”
“Are you frickin kidding me? I just wanted to be able to play Unreal Championship. That schmuck’s been playing it for three days straight and I haven’t even touched the damn game yet. At this rate he might actually stand a chance against me when we play against each other on Saturday!”
“Ah.”
“Damn right, ‘Ah’.”
“Bread, you’re one rotten loaf. You know that?”
“You know it, toots. Even got ‘NASTY’ tattooed on my ass. Wanna see?”
“No.”
“Then quit your yappin and load up my ‘Geek Killa’ character so’s I can frag me some virtual losers. I got a reputation to protect!”

Annoy The Geek Day

• by GeekMan • In Geek Life, HoBiscuit, Rants •   7

Sunday was one of those days.

It started out innocently enough, HoBiscuit and I were going to visit the GeekMom, GeekGrandparents and then check on the Ho-Parents house, since they’re away on vacation for three weeks. And, even though it was a cold and rainy day and we didn’t really want to go; we got up early in the morning to pick up MotherGeek. Of course, being the Geek that I am, I knew that my day would involve at least one person I saw demanding that I ‘fix’ something before it was over.

What I didn’t expect was everyone to ask me to fix everything.

GrandmaGeek greeted us at the door with the heartwarming phrase, “That stupid man. He’s driving me crazy!” Quickly followed by the traditional Geek welcome of, “GeekMan, you need to look at the computer…” This soon degenerated into a screaming match between Grandma and GrandpaGeek as they blamed each other for ‘breaking’ the computer. Of course, their idea of a broken computer meant that the shortcut to Mahjong had disappeared and they hadn’t been able to play it in the last 12 hours.

Tragedy.

After ‘fixing’ the computer, I was offered a frozen steak as a reward and then asked to fix their radio, fire alarm, answering machine and telephone. When they began asking if I thought the couch might look better on the other side of the room I grabbed HoBiscuit and MotherGeek and beat a hasty retreat. Just as we were leaving however, GeekMom informed HoBiscuit and I that we just had to visit a friend of hers before we went to HoBiscuits parents house.

That’s when this giant vein on the right side of my forehead began throbbing.

On the way to MotherGeek friends’ house Mom explained a little problem she was having with her cell phone and asked me to take a look at it. Well, by ‘asked me to take a look at it’ I really mean she demanded I fix her phone right then and there, while I was driving and before we got to her friends house.

Throb. Throb.

When we got to her friends’ house we were invited inside under the pretense of seeing her new kitten. And, as if she were the lead in a really bad high school play, she “suddenly” remembered a few computer questions she had conveniently written down on three, legal-paper-sized, college-ruled pieces of paper.

THROB. THROB.

After managing to escape that sub-basement of the lower regions of Hell, HoBiscuit and I drove through almost two hours of traffic to her parents’ house. On the way there, I received two phone calls for tech support from my Uncle and one from a friend. Seeing my growing distress HoBiscuit suggested we stop off at a local Worst Buy and pick up some CD-Rs that were on sale. As we were paying for the CD-Rs I had to explain to the cashier how to scan in the coupons so we would get the proper discount!

Throb. Throb.

Finally, HoBiscuit and I reach her parents house where she needs to check the mail and water the plants. Just as we walk in the door HoBiscuit turns to me and sheepishly asks that I look at her parent’s computer because it’s been giving them some problems lately. And, just as my throbbing vein was about to burst from my skull and drench her with my life’s blood as I collapsed to the floor in a convulsing heap, she kisses me and says,

“You’re the best, most patient and loveable man in the whole wide world. I love you.”

Oh sure, I knew it was a ploy to get me to fix her parent’s computer without getting angry at her. And I also knew that it meant the computer was probably FUBARed and it would take me hours to fix as I sat in their ice-cold home wondering if both my testicles would freeze solid, or just the weaker one as they fought for the squatting rights to my body’s gonad cavity. I knew all this and yet I still found myself smiling back at her and agreeing to fix the computer no matter how long it took or how cold I was. And do you know why everyone treats me this way and why I always find myself fixing things for people no matter how annoying inconvenient or time consuming it might be for me?

That’s right. Because I’m stupid, that’s why.

THROB. THROB.