Zhanga: June 2008

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Thursday, June 26, 2008 (9 comments)

Today I read a headline on Slashdot: Children Concerned By Parents' Web Habits. In fact, this reflects my exact feelings at present. I've become worried about the kinds of sites my mom reads. I've used my magical surveillance techniques to determine what sites she's been visiting -- and let me tell you, they're less than stellar... obscene, even. For example, look at what I found on a page she read earlier this year:

And I need more ideas for what to bring to China. So far, the list is this:

Loads of condoms.

Some anal lube.

Why is she reading a site that talks about such obscene stuff? Here's another excerpt:

icydog1: i wish i were your homework, because then i'd be hard and you'd be doing me no your desk
anonymous: except
anonymous: i do my hw on my bed

Wait a second, that one looks familiar, doesn't it... and come to think of it, so does the first one! (Side note: in the homework one, Maylene deanonymizes herself in the comments. And by the way Mom, in that first one, I was just kidding. I'm a good boy, Mary's a good girl (and likes girls anyway), and I really, really hope her parents never read this site.)

So anyways, this post is dedicated to my mom, who works hard at her job and diligently reads my Zhanga daily, almost without fail. Since Feb 21, she's read the Zhanga 1.05 times per day -- but she only reads on weekdays, at work, so that number is actually a lot higher if we exclude weekends (~1.5 times per weekday).

You see, my mom is a very sneaky lady. She thinks she can get away with reading my site every day and peeking into the life I'm not telling her about, when in fact her son is equally sneaky. After the recent post about my roommate, my mom and I were talking on the phone when she asked "How's work?" and subtly stuck a question about my roommate in there. She also gave me the usual "Stay safe!" and followed it with something about keeping my ID safe. Very tricky! Commenting about a post I made, without actually letting me know you read my post. Is that so you could continue to observe your target in his natural, uninfluenced state? But I've known about the regular visiting since about April and just haven't said anything.

Well, it's time for some counterstalking. From the data I've collected, we can see when she is most likely to slack off at work. Below is a histogram of recorded page views from Feb 21 until present. It appears that she is likely to read my site at any time but her lunch break. (What happens at 3PM? Coffee break?)

Histogram of Mom's visits to this site

Perhaps more interesting is a glimpse at my future. How often will I check my son's website? What will a real job be like? Numbers can answer anything. For example, see below. The top histogram is for Mondays, while the bottom one is for Fridays. Notice how, as I suspected, my mom is too lazy to get up early on Monday mornings, but stays later than on Fridays, when she usually escapes around 4 PM.

Histogram of Mom's visits to this site by weekday: Monday (top) and Friday (bottom)

So how did Mother discover this site, anyways? Well, apparently her first visit from work came just after the new year, when she Googled icy_dog. Then on that day, she continued browsing my site and searched the following, in order, no omissions:

mom
mom
meil
meyl
mayl
mayl
may
m
me
mom
me
me
mey
may
may
may
may
Maylene

She must have been very interested in Maylene, because once she got the correct spelling she went through 8 pages of search results and clicked them for half an hour. Sorry mom, I will implement a "Did you mean...?" feature on my search engine at some point in the future to save you the trouble of figuring out the next one's name. Or I will find one with an easier name.

Unfortunately, in the process of digging around my site, my mom dug up some great posts like those quoted above. Here is a sampling of other fun things my mom found (or at least, that I think she found -- if she didn't, well, she found them now...):

Things exploding:

Last night, I was coming home from Maylene's house at 7-ish when Tiffany called me and told me that she and Stephen were stuck on the shoulder of I-85 because she hit the median of some road and her two left tires went flat. By the time I got there, neither of the flat tires had any air left at all. They must have seriously exploded.

Tires probably weren't the only things exploding that night. I tried to look inside her car but all the windows were too fogged up for me to even see the steering wheel.

Facebook:

My mom wanted to see some photos, so I logged into Facebook and set her free. Whoops.

I did manage to keep her from seeing any really bad pictures (the worst she saw just had some beer), like the one of a really happy Charles on top of the East Cobb Park playground slide roof looking like he's about to eat a penis twice the size of a fire hydrant. [...]

[...]

Now I definitely can't let her on Facebook again... not after Pat's party and those pictures of Eva. I can't imagine how I'd ever explain to my mom how we managed to get 20 pictures of Eva spread like a broken compass, plus a drunk James on top. ("Oh... that's not Eva... I only posted those... because the girl looks like Eva and I thought it'd be funny... uhhh...")

Those are just two that I can stand re-posting. There are a lot of gems on this site, mostly from many years back, that I cracked up (and/or cried) over after thinking, "my mom read that?!" But they are generally too embarrassing to post again, so you'll have to find them yourself.

There are also a lot of comments that are a little more interesting when viewed in this light, most of them revolving around the thankfully disparate topics of mom jokes and statuatory rape/jailbait jokes, though you could argue that the latter aren't really jokes.

So... my mom probably thinks James, Pat, and Ronjon are 13 years old, which though not entirely untrue is rather unfortunate, because she actually knows your names (RJ is the Indian, Pat's the big unshaven guy, and I'm not sure if she knows which one James is but there aren't a whole lot of white guys to choose from). I still have a conversation with my mom every few months that basically goes like this: "Who is that small Asian girl?" "Tiffany." "Oh, right." How Tiffany is still unrecognizable at this point is a mystery to me.

Ok, I've spent close to 3 hours on this highly worthless post. Time to sleep, though luckily I have an intern fun day tomorrow so I'm not required to stay awake.

12:56AM

Sunday, June 22, 2008 (2 comments)

Two days ago, my roommate washed one bowl that I used! Though I still do a disproportionate amount of dishes, I guess it's an improvement. He seemed pretty unhappy when I asked him to take out the trash, though. There was literally too much trash and recycling for me to take by myself in one trip, so I asked him to grab some stuff. He walked to the other side of the street upon exiting the apartment, to avoid walking with me I guess. We made it 80% of the way to the dumpster, then he stuffed 2 or 3 bags of trash into one of those sidewalk trash cans rather than walk another hundred feet to the dumpster. So lazy.

In other news, I am turning Korean:

Orange hair??

(By the way, taking a picture of a strand of hair is painfully difficult. Try it sometime -- it takes forever just to get the stupid lens to focus.)

11:15PM

Wednesday, June 18, 2008 (3 comments)

Ok, I've had it. Tim, if you're reading this, you are the worst roommate I could ever have imagined.

Back in early May, I found a good cheap apartment on Craigslist and emailed the guy. You said you'd email him, and I asked how it was going. By the time you finally responded to me 4 days later (which apparently is also when you finally emailed the guy), the apartment was gone. You also apparently didn't call any apartments to find out pricing or any other info, because you kept saying "yeah, I think we should go with X or Y" where X and Y were the last two things I suggested.

Apparently you found it offensive when you asked to drive my car and I said no. Well, when I did let you drive the van with me in the passenger seat, you mashed the accelerator like you were the soccer mom racing champ. It's an old car, dude. Plus, I've never let anybody drive my car (which isn't mine) before -- why should you be special?

You've done the dishes twice. Every night that you use pots or dishes, you just leave them in the sink. I did them for about a week before I asked you if you could please wash the dishes. "Yeah, sure," you said. Well, you didn't wash two of the pots, a bunch of utensils, and a dish. And you put everything else in the dishwasher, including the frying pan and spatula with egg on it. The dishwasher did a heated dry or something on the eggs and it took me ages to scrape the dried eggs off.

The second time you did the dishes, you washed only the stuff you used. In contrast, until today, I've washed everything in sight, which on most days meant your stuff as well as mine. Thanks for returning the favor on my pots, pans, dishes, etc that I am letting you use.

The first time you borrowed my chopsticks (which were pretty nice) you broke them. Both of them. The sheer retardedness of this act aside, you didn't even take credit for breaking them. You only admitted they were broken after I asked where they were, and then you just acted like it wasn't your fault and didn't even offer to replace them.

I bought tables and chairs with my money. I bought trash cans. I arranged to get us a futon for $20. I just needed somebody to help me get it into the van, and you said you wanted to watch basketball first, which was fine. After the game, apparently it was too late and you "don't want to sleep at like 1 because we have work tomorrow." I got back at 12:55 after getting the futon with no help from you, and what were you doing? Talking to your girlfriend (probably in that baby voice of yours that is so disgusting). It's 1:25 now. Still on the phone. Did you go into your room, shut the door, and turn off the lights to pretend to be asleep? I can hear you and I can see your laptop light, you dipshit. Just tell me you're lazy if you're lazy, and skip the stupid excuses. By the way, you have no rights to this futon, ever.

Oh right, you actually argued with me about a $20 futon (that you didn't even pay for). You wanted to rent furniture, because you don't want to buy furniture that you can't take back to Michigan. Right, because $20 is so expensive for a futon that you can turn around for $50. Steven and Drew are paying $300 for a couch, TV, dressers, and some other random stuff, and you wanted to use their source? Right, because you know, $300 to rent is so cheap, and you can always sell it in two months to get your initial money back... oh wait, no you can't.

I asked you nicely to wash your dishes today. It's only the third time I've ever asked you, since I usually just silently wash your dirty dishes and don't say anything. You yelled at me to chill the fuck out. I've never raised my voice at you. Eat my hairy balls.

I was the one who talked to the previous renters. They left us some pots, pans, a vacuum cleaner, lamps, and an extra queen-sized mattress set, which you're now sleeping on (which by the way, I didn't ask you to pay for. Be grateful.). You're going to try to take half of this stuff when we leave. No... forget it. I would have let you, but you have no claim to this stuff. You did zero work, and you don't even know the previous renters' names.

Oh yeah, why did your little girl companion (who isn't your girlfriend, and with whom you had no problem staying up late on a weeknight) throw away her used pads in the kitchen trash can? Does she realize food belongs in the kitchen? Hello, that's where I cook and eat. The only blood I want to be seeing is pig blood.

Today, I took out the trash for the first time since moving in on Saturday. I bet it will be loads of fun trying to get you to take out the trash, especially considering the long 3 minute walk to get to the dumpster. I bet you'll "take out the trash tomorrow" for two days, then you'll hurt your foot or something.

Sorry mom for having been a crappy son. I have to deal with this crap now and realize how bad I was. I'm just glad that this tool isn't my son.

Oh yeah he borrowed my driver's license to go to bars. Then he went to buy weed with my ID still on him. Wtf?? Then he asked to buy my ID and he became unhappy when I denied him.

Hanif... save me. I miss the hair that you scatter all over the room. I think it will make me so much happier.

1:42AM

Sunday, June 15, 2008 (1 comment)

I went to get a haircut today. It was at some really shady Viet place surrounded by crappy Asian restaurants and the two sketchiest-looking pho houses I've ever seen. Anyways, my roommate and I walked in and waited, and listened to the random Vietnamese music they were playing.

When it came my turn to get my hair cut, I sat down and, like clockwork, Baby One More Time immediately began playing. Britney's first CD continued playing during my haircut, and I was done right after Born To Make You Happy. I think that was my best haircut experience ever.

12:44AM

Saturday, June 14, 2008 (2 comments)

I always thought the gas saving techniques that are tossed around so often these days were all pretty worthless. Like inflating your tires to the maximum pressure... sure, maybe you'll save 2% gas, but how are you going to drive with exploded tires? Some of the very helpful tips are as obvious as GW's stupidity, like "don't drive aggressively and don't mash the accelerator." But there's one that I've wondered about for a while.

So I decided to try drafting today. I thought it might give me 1 MPG or something, but oh was I wrong. The minivan is rated for 23.0 MPG on the highway, and after driving a couple hundred miles, the highest I could get it to go on the interstate was 24.0 on cruise control and no air conditioning. (I think AC does use a little bit of gas, because the average mileage thing wouldn't go above 23.0 with the AC on. And if you didn't know, cruise control definitely saves gas. Use it.)

I drove 20 miles on I-95 today without cruise control and with AC, drafting behind first a small truck then a tractor-trailer. Average mileage behind the small truck was 29 MPG, and then for the last 5ish miles I followed a tractor-trailer which is taller thus better for drafting. By the time I had to exit, the average mileage was up to 30.6 MPG and still increasing. That's a lot of gas saved!

As soon as I pulled away from the truck, the MPG meter plummeted as if to reassure me that the meter was in fact working.

Do not attempt at home, icydog.net does not endorse tailgating, I'm not responsible if you do something retarded and die, etc etc.

Oh yeah speaking of retarded, I was going with the traffic flow at like 75 mph, then some retarded motorcyclist cut me off at 45 mph, at night when it's hardest to see those things. Why would you do that? Slamming the brakes probably wasted like an ounce of gas right there.

1:11AM

Thursday, June 12, 2008 (1 comment)

The credit card industry is great, and by great I really mean not great.

An analyst who sits near me has been with Capital One for four or six (forgot which) years. One day she was talking about a Bank of America credit card offer she was considering for her personal use, and mentioned how the terms were confusing and she'd have to ask somebody about how it works.

Another coworker helpfully reminded her that if she couldn't figure out what BofA was offering, then it was hopeless. Seriously, do marketing people these days even write in English?

12:55AM

Monday, June 9, 2008 (0 comments)

I fixed my rear-view mirror problem with CVS brand superglue. Works like a charm.

I lost my car keys today. I looked all over the building and gym for it at least five times over. An hour later, I found it under a mop in the gym. Wtf?

Capital One opened a branch office upstairs in one of the Richmond office buildings. I will report back tomorrow after I get denied a credit card by the credit card company I work for.

10:35PM

Saturday, June 7, 2008 (1 comment)

Initial impressions of Capital One are pretty good. My bosses are great, and the atmosphere is pretty friendly and open. My team at Microsoft last summer never really interacted with our direct manager other than to do necessary boss-underling type things, but the guys here are pretty cool. (And their English is much more understandable.)

The only thing is, why can't I seem to find a job at a place where I can feel completely non-evil? First Microsoft, then a credit card company... don't get me wrong, after reading hundreds of pages of numbers and stats I feel like Capital One is definitely doing a lot of things right compared to the competition, but in the end, we still generate revenue in a highly regressive way.

Oh yeah, the sex ratio is the same as at Microsoft. It's probably 70-80% men at Capital One.

Anyways, the only reason I actually wanted to write a post today was to say that I drove to TJ Maxx this afternoon because my roommate wanted some clothes. When I got to my car in the parking lot, it was 104 F outside (must have been at least 140 inside...) and the rear-view mirror had fallen off the top of the windshield. I didn't even know those things could fall off. The heat must have destroyed the adhesive or something.

7:47PM

Sunday, June 1, 2008 (7 comments)

EDIT, June 2 9:45 PM: Einstein 2004 was even more cluttered and I looked even more retarded, but IMHO it was better because there wasn't that retarded dude standing out to the side. Also, Einstein got better looking because that's the difference between a DSLR and a point-and-shoot. The picture I took last week was from the Canon Rebel XT that I love so much, and the earlier ones from point-and-shoots (I think the 2005 one was from Ronjon's camera, and I don't know about the other). The 2004 picture is now posted at the bottom too.

I didn't get to see a lot of stuff in DC because of the rain this weekend, but I did see a few things (these are all on Facebook, but whatever):

Washington Monument