Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Chromed

I was going to write about "13 Reasons Why" but I changed my mind. Maybe next time. I have thoughts and questions. I need a nap and coffee before I tackle that topic.
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I am writing this on my new Chromebook. If that is not exciting, I don't know what is.

If you stumbled upon this blog because you were looking for a review on Chromebooks, I have good and bad news for you: this isn't an official review but it is an accidental review of sorts. I welcome you to the Addiverse and hope you'll stay to hear about the ridiculousness of which surrounds my life.

If you are a regular in the Addiverse but know nothing of what a Chromebook is, that's okay. You're used to my babbling. What's one more day of babble?

Baltimore Oriole update: I have yet to attract one single feathered friend of the Oriole time. I haven't given up but the wife is getting a little sick of my obsession with oranges and grape jelly.

...I was very busy over the past month researching Chromebooks. Not exactly earth-shattering, but it has sucked up a lot of my time and brain power. It's the IT guy's fault as we are changing the way we do business and he thought the Chromebook would be the way to go. As the project manager, it was mine to determine what would best suit my purpose. I thought having some form of technology which would be useful when I teach at the University would be a bonus. I wanted to wait until the agency purchased me a Chromebook, but you know me--I can't wait for anything.

In this case, that's not exactly true. I actually did take my time and research the bejesus out of this endeavor. I read countless reviews, both from technical sites and users. I studied up on the pros and cons of the various models. I went to Bestie Buy three times to look at the products. I was on Amazon every night, studying prices. I watched YouTube videos until my eyes were blurry. I took the IT guy's personal Chromebook home and tried it out. So, I can't say I was as spontaneous as usual.

It's almost depressing how much research I conducted. I'm going to ruin my reputation if I keep this up.

I ended up getting the Asus Chromebook 10.1" Flip. That way, I have a tablet and a notebook in one. The IT guy said Asus was the way to go. At first, I was mighty skeptical. But, after review and research, I learned that he knew what he was doing and I should have listened to him in the first place.

It's super small, which means it weighs very little--we're talking two measly pounds little. Since I lug this thing around everywhere I go, light weight is a huge plus. The battery life is ridiculous. We're talking 10 hours of use between charges. Who needs an outlet when you've got that much time on your hands? The little touch pad works handsomely. I have the option of using an external mouse. I already do everything on Google, so using a Chromebook is not a stretch. And, yes I can use it when teaching class or slogging my way through the work project.

That's the rub. If you need a "real" computer, this is not the way to go. There's very little storage room on the actual machine. It runs on Chrome OS, so start thinking about the cloud. If you are on the internet a lot and use Google Drive stuff, this is awesome. I think I'm breaking up with Microsoft and going with slides, docs and forms on Drive. We'll see.

Cords and short cuts have given me a run for the money, though. Not that you really want any details. Too bad, I'm going to give you an example about cord traumas, anyway. I have to use a micro HDMI doohickey but ordered a Mini. I have come to learn Micro and Mini are NOT the same. Finding a mini HDMI cord to hook up to a VGA has been challenging, more so because I don't exactly know what I'm doing. Ah, live and learn.

I could ask the IT guy but what fun would that be?

By the way, if anyone needs a Type A Mini HDMI to hook up to a VGA adapter, let me know. It's all yours for the taking.

For the record, I DID ask for help at Bestie Buy but they were no help. Seriously, Google lady: isn't it your job to know what cords go with Chrome products? I knew more than that saleslady. She should hang out with me and learn a thing or two. Or, maybe I should get myself a Google shirt and work the floor at Bestie Buy.

Short cuts leave me scratching my head. I have yet to learn any of them but need to get on it. This model doesn't have a delete button, so you can backspace but not delete, per se, without a shortcut. There is no home or end key and F buttons are surely a thing of the past.

My first attempt at using this diddy while teaching class last night went about as planned. I had the wrong cord, so I couldn't do everything I wanted... but, I was able to walk around the classroom with this little beauty in hand. I had my class notes in electronic version instead of on paper. I looked like I was in the 21st century, which was good, seeing as I was talking about aging. Who wants to look old when talking about aging?

Side note: I am pleased to report that the students don't think people are ever too old to wear jeans or get a tattoo. They said if you can rock a two-piece swim suit, you should go with it. No one should ever wear a Speedo, or so they tell me. They are all good with the 70-something year old Rolling Stones hopping and rocking around the stage, but Madonna should knock it off. I loved that they said no one ever has to dye their hair and that they embrace the gray hair thing. They did admit that guys can get away with gray hair a whole lot easier than women.

Back to technology. There is a chance that our agency won't go with Chromebooks. I considered that more than once before handing over the charge card. No matter. I decided this suited my purposes, work need or not. I need something portable at work, at school, in life--this will work just fine.

Besides, maybe I'll look younger using this piece of technology, gray hair be damned. Chromebook in one hand, iPhone in the other, tattoos proudly peeking out of my clothing.

As long as I'm not wearing a bikini while using this piece of technology, I'll be good to go. There is no way I can rock a bikini. I can barely rock shorts shorter than knee-length. I CAN rock a Chromebook with the best of them, but the bikini is a definite no.

(Respect your elders, young students or I'll wear a bikini to class next week. You won't even notice I have a new Chromebook. Your retinas will be scarred with the vision of me in a bikini. There is not enough therapy or money to fix that.)

So, do I recommend the purchase of a Chromebook? I'll have to get back to you. It's too early in the game to make a definitive answer. As of this moment, I give it two thumbs up. Ask me in a few months. That'll give me time to put this machine to the test and to go get another tattoo.

After all, I'm not too old for that.

Thursday, April 13, 2017

Fearlessly Pierce

I thought it was Friday when I woke up but just figured out it is Thursday. Dang. I hate when that happens.

Do you chat with a snap? I had some youngsters ask me if they could send me some snaps. I laughed and told them I'm too old to snap--that's why I'm on Facebook, not Snapchat. I told them I would fire up my "old" chatty account (one I had opened back when Snapchat originally started) so they could snap away.

Let me be clear: I have NO idea how to snap. I think I might have accidentally sent these fine young humans some ugly videos of which I never meant to send. (Okay people--videos of me with doe eyes and rainbow vomit. I was trying out a filter. Nothing more than horrific and stupid. Don't get all weird on me.)

I did see what they snapped but I'm not exactly sure what I snapped back. Why? Because after so many seconds things disappear. Well, kind of disappear. I'm sure there is some way to save things or whatnot but I have no idea how that might be or how that might work.

I'll leave the snapping to the young folk. I'm gonna stick with lame memes and recipe posts of Facebook.
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The following diddy may not be the faint of heart. It involves the piercing of flesh. You be the judge.


For some reason or another--none of which I can currently identify--I decided to get my ears re-pierced. I already have all the "original" holes from piercings in the olden days, so why not use what I've got? I've got earrings I can't wear because all my piercings have closed....

The illustration here shows what I did NOT do. No wild rook or industrial piercings for me. I stuck with the tried-and-true "this is what I did in the 1980's" piercings. I put this illustration here because I think it's really wild how all sorts of ear locations are now being pierced. Say what you will, I love it. It's just not for my ever-growing ears.

A tangent: you know, all those ear piercings must have acupuncturists freaking out. I mean, there are a lot of acupuncture points on an ear. Reflexologists probably feel the same way. Of course, some people are getting specific parts of their ears pierced exactly for this reason--a trend seems to be getting one part of the ear pierced to help with migraines. That probably helps soothe acupuncture fans.

Here's an example of the ear acupuncture points. See what I mean? All those piercings ripping right through some important points. Ear piercing trend = acupuncture hell.

Back to me and my lobes. Tried as I might, my earrings were not going to go in without a fight; so, I decided to get them done professionally at a tattoo shop. From what I hear, mall-found-ear piercing guns are not the way to go. Whatever--you know I love going to tattoo shops, so it seemed like win-win to me.

So, I chose a shop by both recommendation and by on-line review. One of my tattoos is from there, so why not? I wave adios to the wife and head to the shop. When I got there, it was pretty quiet. Surprisingly (to me), Madonna was singing when I walked in. I've never been to a tattoo shop where Madonna was on the play list, so I took this as a sign I had chosen wisely. I only see two workers, which I find strange, as this should be a busy place on a Saturday afternoon. No matter. The guy comes out and asks me how he can help. I tell him I am there to get my ears re-pierced. He acknowledges this, indicates "we'll" (whoever we'll is) be with me and then goes back to the tattoo is he working on. After looking around the shop, I sit down and get comfy.

Twenty minutes later, I'm still sitting there and my ears are not re-pierced. Funny how when really cute, young girls walked in, the guy was super-attentive and all about customer service. Me? Not so much. I'm not cute or young. I decide this is not the place to be and thus I walked out without a word.

I'm sure he lost lots of sleep over this.

I go to the next shop--again, a place of which I've gotten a tattoo--and ask about getting my ears re-pierced. This place is empty, too. What on earth is going on when tattoo shops are empty on Saturday afternoons? She says is free to re-pierce my ears but explains she doesn't have "that many" matching earrings. I don't care if they match but when she shows me what she has, I realize this is not going to work in any capacity--if I wanted my belly button or tongue pierced, I would have been in business. She tells me if I have some earrings at home, I should bring them in and she can easily re-pierce my ears. I thank her for her time and leave, ears still un-re-pierced.

It is at this point that I realize I am going to re-pierce my own ears. Screw this driving around town. Screw young people who have no respect for old people ear lobes. I'll show you. I'll save money and time.

As I'm driving home, I devise a game plan. I'll dig out some of the old posts earned when getting my ears pierced back in the 1980's (yes, I still have them) and SHOVE those puppies right through the existing-now-closed holes. I considered using the old "ice numb and potato behind the ear" method some of my friends used back in the day, but quickly realize we probably don't have any potatoes at home and figure I don't care to have ice cubes melting down my neck. Nope. I'm just going to do it.

The wife, realizing what I am about to do, makes it quite clear she wants NOTHING to do with this. Nothing. She reiterates she is not going to help me. What a chicken.

I gather my supplies--posts, alcohol (the cleaning kind, not the drinking kind) and wipes--and head to the bathroom. I am ready. My ears are ready. The wife is ready, albeit it far, far away. I "sterilize" the posts and ear lobes by generously dousing said items in alcohol. I close the sink drain thing, lest the earrings all go rolling down the drain. I take a deep breath and begin the procedure.

I decided to pierce four earring holes on the left side and one on the right. How I came to this decision, I do not know. It just made sense to me. Call it a numbers thing. Or, maybe it's because I had five earrings at my disposal. Although I could have done four and three, I did four and one.

Looking at my left ear, I considered if I should work front to back or back to front. For the record, I decided on back to front.

Starting with "Left hole #4" (which thus became re-pierce #1), I took that post, lined it up and SHOVED it through my ear. SHOVED.

Did I mention that I SHOVED it through my ear?

Oh dear god, it hurt like hell. I suppose it should hurt--after all, I just took a dull implement and shoving it through my ear lobe. Despite the pain, I was felt gloriously triumphant, as re-pierce #1 was a complete success. I put the backing on the earring and moved on to "Left hole #3/re-piercing #2.

Re-piercing #2 didn't go as swimmingly as re-piercing #1 and thus I ended up bleeding. A lot. I'm not sure where I went amiss but I decided to give that one a bit of time and then moved on to re- piercing #3 and #4. Thankfully, those went without a hitch and thus I returned to #2. After a LOT of bleeding and shoving and swearing and wooziness (with emphasis on swearing), I got #2 re-pierced. Bloody and angry red and now swollen but pierced.

The right side, with only one re-piercing to be had, did NOT cooperate. I'll save you the details but I ended up asking the wife for help, despite her insistence she would NOT be helping me.

Me: Come on! I can't see the back of my ear. Just tell me if I'm lined up with the old hole.

The wife: I told you, I am not helping you!

Me: You don't have to do anything. Just look! I need to know if I'm in the right spot.

The wife: I don't want to be doing this.

Me: Just look!

The wife: (not wearing her reading glasses, so she is of limited help) there is no hole back here.

Me: There HAS to be!

The wife: No, there is not a hole.

Me: Can you see where the earring is poking?

The wife: Yes, but I'm telling you there isn't a hole.

Insert some arguing here, along with repeated "I told you I don't want to be any part of this" statements. The wife left the bathroom--agitated and grossed out.

Long story short...I was unsuccessful. 

This pissed me off. I didn't want to go back to a tattoo shop but I wanted that stupid ear pierced. I announced we were going to the mall. Yes, the mall. Yes, the place with the ear piercing gun. The method of which I had originally poo-poo'd. The mall on a Saturday night.

I am pleased to report that the earring-gunned-is-she-12 years-old-employee had a VERY hard time re-piercing my ear. She, in her youthful ignorance, had been all sorts of confident when I asked her if she could re-pierce my ear in the exact spot it had originally been pierced. She looked a whole lot less confident when her first attempt failed miserably, as the earring didn't fully through the skin and thus didn't emerge out the "back end." Seems my scar tissue had better ideas than being re-pierced. I thought I was going to have to talk her through it but she got her courage back and gave it another shot (literally and figuratively).

I now have a pierced right ear. It was worth the trip to the mall as obviously I would never have been able to do it myself. I'll spare you the details of the crunching sound involved with achieving success.....

I look ridiculous with old-school posts in but I'm not taking them out until everything fully heals. By then, I'll have had time to buy some earrings worth wearing.

Today, I have a hair appointment. I'm sure my old-school posts with be up for discussion. I'll tell her to respect her elder and to focus on my hair. I thought about taking them out for the hair appointment but then thought better. There is no way in hell I am re-re-piercing anything. She can deal with my tacky posts. Because I'm nice, I'll clean them this morning before I leave for work. Beyond that, she'll just have to deal with it.

It's Thursday. Not Friday. It's a great day. It's a hair cut day. It's a "my ears are pierced and I rock" day. It's a "how the hell do you send a snap?" kind of day. Maybe I'll snap a few photos of my ears to some young people.....

Admire my ears. Admire my bravery. Admire my stupidity. Are you sure it's not Friday?
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Happy Easter and/or Happy Passover and/or Happy Spring to all.






Wednesday, April 05, 2017

Political Palette

Forgive my need to write about mundane political things. It keeps me distracted and serves as free therapy. I try to stay polite in my lop-sided view of today's world. I know my left-leanings are more than colorful, so I'll work to stay balanced. Or, not.

My political palette says "Color me Green." The March for Science is quickly approaching. Earth Day (April 22) has been ear-marked for the next global political event of which I will gladly, proudly and loudly attend. I hope that the turn out will be as good as the March on Washington, as science is a pretty important thing--despite what the current administration seems to think. Call me crazy, but I like clean air, live animals, and protected national parks.

"The March for Science demonstrates our passion for science and sounds a call to support and safeguard the scientific community. It is time for people who support scientific research and evidence-based policies to take a public stand and be counted."

Now, I am one of those radical, hippy type folk so forgive me if I'm too environmental for your liking. I'm one of those weirdos who likes evidence-based things. especially when it comes to protecting the Earth. I know, I know--Science is so.... well, anti-alternative-fact driven. That belief in fake science is asinine--lib-tarded, for sure. I should sit down, be silent and behave--the white, rich men in Washington have this all under control. Global Warming is propaganda of the far left. Profit-producing pipelines are much more important than honoring sacred lands--that land is for the taking and those people need to get in line--get in pipe line (really bad pun intended). Tiny Trump and his minions remind me that coal and fracking are the wave of the future.

Speaking of Tiny Trump, I haven't had a tiny photo of him for awhile. Here he is with one of his besties. This is one of my favorites. But, aren't they all my favorites?

To be honest, I never dreamt that I'd have to be so politically active after all these years. I thought those days were long behind me. I suppose I should thank this administration for spurring me back into action. I never thought I would have to "resist" anything. I certainly never thought I'd have a T-shirt with "resist" and the National Park Service combined into one.

I'm no longer pink. My political palette says Color me red. Angry red.

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My Penced-Political-Palette says Color me red, white and blue. As a model citizen, I want to make sure I represent both sides of the aisle. It is with this in mind that I suggest you check out this link supporting our great Vice President. It's only fair and right that I give credit where credit is due. You can thank me later.  http://www.officialmikepence.com/ 

Color me giddily converted.

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Color my sporty palette Cubbie Blue. I am pleased to announce the return of the World Series champs to town. That bright blue is what smiles are made of. I look forward to another great season--this time with no stress or angst or fretting. They won the trophy once in my lifetime--now it'll be so much "easier" to watch a game or see the standings. It would be delightful if they had another world series season, but I'm all good with whatever happens. Honestly. I'll attend games. I'll wear my team colors. I'll sing the song of my people. But, the results are just icing on this year's season. Be strong, Cub Fans. It's gonna be different being "lovable winners."

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Color me rainbow. The guy who created the Rainbow Flag passed away last week. It was about 30 years ago when the first rainbow was unveiled. "The first flags had eight colors, each stripe carrying its own significance: pink for sex, red for life, orange for healing, yellow for sun, green for nature, turquoise for magic, blue for peace and purple for spirit." 

I've always been a fan of the rainbow flag. It's so dang...well, colorful.

What's not to love about a rainbow? Rainbows aren't threatening. Rainbows are biblical. Rainbows are beautiful, colorful, wondrous. Rainbows are equal opportunity, the full palette. Please don't be all pissy because the gays soiled God's rainbow. Be happy there are rainbows and that some of them are more fabulous than others.

I'm sure Pence is all about tasting the rainbow.

I know, I know. I'm soiling God's rainbow by writing that. My true colors bleed through. I'm a one-sided rainbow. I own my palette's skewed color scheme.

Pink triangles, green forests, diverse nation. Face it: my political palette vomits a rainbow.

I vomit rainbows... and, I couldn't be prouder. Color me peachy.
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