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Since I sometimes waste time on myspace, and sometimes disable adblock in FireFox so it's not leaking memory like a memleak-fuck, I am sometimes bombarded with advertisements. One of the most prolific ads I see are ones for www.true.com, some online dating service. Basically stereotypically HOTT CHICKS in bikinis with phrases like "Find True Love Now!" and shit. Because, you know, true love is equal to hot girls sans most of their clothing. Out of morbid curiosity tonight, I clicked the effing link. I was presented with this image, right above the signup form:  If you've been convicted of a crime, you cannot use their site. Not any specific crime, mind you. Not even felonies or sex offenses or anything. Just a crime. If you've gotten a speeding ticket and paid it, you have essentially pled guilty to the crime of speeding, technically making you a convicted criminal:
Convict : n. Law
1. A person found or declared guilty of an offense or crime.
2. A person serving a sentence of imprisonment.
So, if you've ever gotten (and paid) a speeding ticket, true.com can apparently cancel your account (and possibly attempt legal action) for fraud.
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Here are two dreams I recently had, both of which are slightly fucked up. A few nights ago, I had a dream that I had signed up to join the Marine Corps. George Clooney turned out to be the... head... guy? Recruiter? I don't know who he was, but he was the head of this little group of people I was with who had also signed up. We weren't at boot camp yet; this was more of a shopping expedition. We were at a mall, which had more the feel of a really big old house with a lot of rooms. I assume we were gathering supplies and stuff. There was a token crazy kid with our group, an idea that my brain probably pulled from 'full metal jacket.' I think he ended up killing someone, but I can't remember clearly. (should have written this down after I had it.) Anyway, I eventually got a little freaked out and decided that whatever stupid game I was playing should end, so I asked Clooney if I could talk to him in private. We went to a small office sort of room with rich, dark wood accents, warm lighting, etc. I don't know why this room was so detailed, but it was. I proceeded to tell him that I had a lung transplant, etc, and was in no way elligible to join the armed forces. He was rather taken aback at this news at first, but then seemed very contemplative. He told me that he respected my subversiveness, and indicated that this could start some sort of revolution. I think this is about where I woke up, because I remember wondering how the hell my lying about my medical condition to get into the marines could have started any sort of revolution. 'Twas odd. The dream I just had last night was a lot geekier. I dreamt that I opened up the rablat mail server so that spammers could use it to send out millions of spam emails. ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=88.8) hawke666 started to get pissed at me, because all the spam was tying up the network and filling our inboxes. I explained to him that I had a good reason to do it, but couldn't remember it anymore. So I went to the basement to turn off mail forwarding. In the basement, there were clear pipes winding their way into the server room, and I could see the spam emails flowing through these pipes. I was trying to figure out where the valve was so I could block the spam while I disabled the forwarding in the server, when I discovered that the pipes were starting to freeze and jam up, causing some problems. I think I woke up thinking about those heating elements you wrap around pipes in order to keep them from freezing.
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Instead of cleaning, like I should be, I will here post a small chunk of insignificant banter! I know I usually don't use this 'journal' to complain about life, or be all angsty, or whatever, but today might be a small exception. An open letter to people that inhabit the internet:
Dear Random People I Meet on the Internet,
Why do some of you randomly cease talking to me? No reason given, no warning, no hints... just poof! No more communication! I've thought about it way more than I should, and I can't figure it out! I didn't say anything "bad," I don't recall letting something like 'I EAT BABIES AND PEE ON THE ELDERLY' slip out, so what gives? It almost surely can't be "something I said."
I realize some of you take internet penpals even less seriously than I do, and that's okay, but don't I deserve at least some sort of "sorry, events in my life preclude spending time writing to strangers on the internet?" Hell, even a "You bore the shit out of me?" I can handle that; it's the total lack of any reason and being left completely in the dark that bothers me. I realize perhaps a small percentage of you have sudden things that 'come up,' can't afford the internet anymore, get busy with other aspects of life and drop off the face of the 'net, and that's cool too, but I still wonder way more than I should whatever happened to you.
Some of you, though, I know simply (and abruptly) ceased talking to me. In a vaguely stalker-ish way, using readily-available tools provided by various websites and services, I can tell you people have read and/or deleted my last message to you and have since continued using whichever service is in question. What happen? I mean, I'll be honest, I have relatively high standards when it comes to actually holding conversations with people I meet on the intarwebs, and in 99.998% of cases, the conversations haven't abruptly dissolved into things like "so, how about those Steelers," or "u want 2 cybar??" I can understand getting tired of small talk or silly "random," pointless exchange- I've gotten tired of that sort of thing too. The "cases" I'm "referencing," however, mostly contained intelligent, semi-intellectual discussions... So, again, why the sudden ignore? Maybe I'm taking these things more seriously than I think I am... but it just seems fucked up to be having a relatively involved email-conversation-exchange with someone who you seem to be getting along with fine and suddenly... nothing.
So, Internet people, what the fuck?
Of the six or so people who will read this, do any of you have similar stories? Is it just me? Is there something about my manner of conveying ideas and thoughts that makes people go "JESUS SHITTING CHRIST, RUN?" I'm at a loss. I posted some similar rant to my "MYSPACE" profile a few weeks ago when something like this happened, because I was vaguely irritated and confused as hell. After I posted it and read it, I removed it, because it sounded too stupid. Now, again, in the past week and a half or so, the same shit happened. I've determined 90% of the people on the internet are just crazy. Unless these people who've randomly cut off communication with me for no obvious reason give me one, I'm just going to assume they're raving loonies. Henceforth, I believe I will simply stop trying to make 'friends' on the internet. Fuck it. The ratio of loonies to people I've actually had meaningful, lasting friendships with is like... two hundred billion to three. I've embraced this sort of 'internet culture' almost since I began using the nets of inter, using it not only as a tool of learning (and stupid amusement) but also as a platform to meet people from around the world and talk about interesting things as well as silly crap- but it would appear that the times are a-changin'. 90% of the people I've actually had lasting friendships with I met more than four years ago, and those friendships are still as strong as a friendship made though text alone can be. The rest... wtf, I dunno. Crazies. All ranting aside, here's a list of things that make me happy for inexplicable reasons, possibly because my brain is broken:
- Feeding the mass of ducks around here in the winter- being swarmed by 90 ducks as soon as you enter the park rocks.
- Hello Kitty stuff. I don't know why. See above text about broken brain.
- Setting my car's cruise control in town -just- after overdrive engages, so that my engine is doing about 800 RPM.
- Cute little cardboard boxes.
- Things that are round.
- Marshmallow Peeps.
- Neatly shaped small glass bottles. I believe I must have been an alchemist in a past life.
- Pineapples.
There's probably more things, but I've been filled with the sudden urge to clean something. editor's note: 99.995% of the above statistics were pulled out of my ass.
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I just remembered I wanted to look up the IP for an anonymous comment post on this entry of mine from last year: http://www.livejournal.com/users/innacsai/22415.htmlI didn't recognise the IP offhand, so I did an arin lookup: OrgName: MTA Solutions OrgID: MTAS Address: 619 E. Ship Creek Ave., Suite 241 City: Anchorage StateProv: AK PostalCode: 99501 Country: US Huh, interesting! I wonder if whoever cited him out there did a search on his name and found my journal? Very interesting indeed.
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I just renewed my LJ Experience for another year. With an average of six posts per year, it's well worth the money. =P THBHBRHBRHBTHTBTHB. I'll have to post more.
I'm up too late and I've been browsing online profiles on various websites, because it's what I do sometimes. Every time I do this, I'm usually reminded of the reason I choose not to interact with the majority of the human race. Here are some pointers I felt the need to comment on, as I see a trend emerging (or perhaps it's already emerged and I just noticed) -
"Free Spirited" is not a euphemism for "slutty." Though I cannot prove that the two times I've seen it used tonight were in that context, I've made assumptions based on the rest of the person(s) profile(s) and their picture. Yes, yesss, assss out of uuuu and meee. But stereotypes exist for a reason.
"Poly-amorous" is also not a euphemism for "slutty," though it seems it's much more used in the context of sleeping around than 'free spirited.'
In conclusion, quit trying to justify your sleeping around, sluts.
The fifteenth is my birthday. Yay for me. I will eat food that day, as well as metabolize it.
In other news, I finally sold Glenda. A man, his wife, and their children came down from Minnesota to pick her up. About a month ago, when I went to start her up and such, the rear brakeline broke open, and I had been putting off fixing it because nobody was calling me about the car. This man initially offered me $1200 for the car as-is, which I didn't exactly agree to, but said might be able to work. He apparently misheard me and thought I said "yes, the car is as good as yours now, please come pick it up." A little bit of an argument occurred later, but he offered me $1300 after seeing it, which I accepted if only to get it out of the way and done with. Also, his entire family came from MN under the assumption they were there to pick it up, so I felt a little bad about that too.
Here's the thing though- He originally told me over the phone he was planning to clamp that brake line off and drive it back to MN. Not something I would personally do, mostly because of the liability i'd face in an accident. When he came to pick it up, he didn't even do that- just left the line open. Definitely not something I would do, but hey. I had him sign a paper saying he was in full knowledge the car had failing brakes, just to be sure. The scariest part was that it seemed they were going to let their daughter, who couldn't have been older than 17, drive it part of the way.
When he offered me $1300, he told me he only had $1200 in cash but could write a $100 check. He explained that he and his family were good Christians and believed in paying their debts. Perhaps they also believed that God would protect them on their journey home in an unsafe vehicle. (Perhaps He did- nobody can prove it either way.) Hawke and I then assumed that if they did die, at least they're going to Heaven, but joking aside I still felt uneasy and worried about them the entire night. The guy called me in the morning and left me a message saying they got home fine, but used 3 quarts of brake fluid. Wow.
Teh Raven Out.
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Okay. Those of you who read this journal probably know that I'm the "site admin" for "rablat.net" - I manage the web/email/etc services for my own home network, and some people have their websites on my server, some folks use email, etc. Anyway-
Jay and I constantly have bitch sessions about spammers. The ludicrous emails, the malicious adware that sometimes finds its way on your system, etc. For fuck's sake, the message boards on shittywhipping.org are getting hit by fake accounts with some fucking pharmaceutical site as their homepage.
Well, I consider this just... insane. I was checking the web server logs on rablat.net. There's a section that shows referring URLS- sites that people have gotten linked to mine from. Well, there's about 2,000 instances of websites like “buy-phentermine-online.pharm.nl” and shit like that. Two. Thousand. WTF?
Do the people who write the scripts to do this sort of thing honestly think that someone is going to be perusing my fucking webserver logs and think “Oh, shit, yes! I forgot, I was going to buy some questionable pharmaceuticals from shady foreign online retailers! Thank the Lord Himself that this webserver's log is FUCKING FLOODED with URLs for the aforementioned products I so desperately seek!”
God DAMN. Usually I'm not very bothered by this sort of thing, but for fuck's sake, this is retarded.
All of these bogus referrer URLs came from three individual hosts:
69.73.166.108 – platinum.nocdirect.com
69.28.242.87 – server.myhostnet.net
64.193.62.232 – inetnoc.com
...so I just blocked those hosts at the firewall level. God shitting damn.
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It's things like this that cause everyone to turn into assholes.
Last wednesday, Conrad and I were driving around, running errands. It was pouring rain, and I was having some fun in some puddles, too. I listed the lincoln (btw, not sold yet) at The Buyer's Guide office. In the office before me was an older woman; if I had to guess, early 60's. When I got in my car, and began to back out, I noticed she was backing out too, in her large F150 pickup. Figuring she didn't see me, I pulled all the way back into my spot, but *crunch-* she still hit me. (This was in the 'new' Vic, not Glenda.)
I wasn't sure if she realized she hit me or not, so I followed her, honked a few times, flashed my lights- she pulled into the Walgreens lot, and as we both got out of our cars, she said something like "ooop, I did getcha." She proceeded to hand me a chunk of taillight from her bumper. Thankfully, all she did was punch a nice hole into my tail light assembly, no further damage. She was nice and pleasant about it, and said rather than stand around in the rain, I come see her at work the next day (She works at the Park Ridge Cafe) and tell her how much it will be to replace it. As she seemed like a nice enough old lady, I said sure; didn't call the cops or anything, because it wasn't MASSIVE damage, and she was... well, nice to me.
Come next day. The only junkyard (er, I mean, 'auto parts recycler') in the area that can even get one has one for $65 dollars. I found one on eBay going for $20 with six days remaining. I intended to go see her, tell her the quote for $65, and depending on how she reacted, probably ask like $40 from her, since I didn't know how much the auction would get up to. I figured if she was happy with $65 (perhaps she had a higher number in mind) then that would be ok too- I mean, I have to 'pay myself' for installation labor, too.
Anyway, she doesn't even recognize who I am at first, which made me a little uneasy. Then, as soon as I get to the $65 part, she interrupts me, and begins ranting loudly about how 'rediculous' that price is, which makes many nearby diners begin to look at us. She proceeds to essentially call me a liar, and suggests that my taillight was already broken to begin with, because there's "no way" her bumper could have made such a clean break, suggesting that I'm just trying to blame it all on her. She then tells me I should just "Super glue it." Yeah, you asshat, I'll just go ahead and dig all the little red shards of plastic out of the damn thing and piece them together. That'll hold real good. When I make it clear that 'superglue' isn't an option, she backtracks and states again how absurd $65 dollars is for a taillight, and if that's how much they quoted me, she might just have a talk with them. I welcomed her to do so. She then informed me that she replaced a tail light in a '92 buick somethingorother for $19. Yeah. Right. She ended the conversation by telling me to come back to her next week (this week) with "some reciepts," by which I think she meant "quotes."
I left infuriated. I kept my cool in the resturant; I wasn't going to make a scene like she was in front of all those people. But I was enraged. I think it was mostly her tone of voice (which can't be accurately conveyed here) when she insinuated that my taillight was already broken. It was fucking immaculate; no cracks, nothing. And she fucking handed me a piece of taillight from her bumper, for christ's sake. And the sheer ludicriousness of her telling me to SUPER GLUE IT. YOU FUCKING BROKE IT, LADY... No i am not going to 'super glue it'... god damn. All I can say is "WHAT THE FUCK."
Not knowing what else to do, I went down to the sheriff's dept to file a report. Unfortunately, since the damage was under $1000, I can't really file an accident report, but at least they have the contact report on file now, so I can prove I did actually talk to someone about it. The sheriff deputy was definitely on my side as far as 'wtf' to the woman's behavior. At one point he was like "what does one of these cost used anyway, like seventy bucks?" "Sixty-five." "Pshh," he replied, shaking is head.
My next step, to be completed today, is to get the woman the quotes she asked for. I'm going to get estimates from local body shops. Estimates that will be well over the $65 I told her originally. Since I lost the auction online for the taillight anyway, I'm going to either have to wait for another one or get one from a junkyard/dealer anyway- and if she's going to be a huge bitch, she can go ahead and have some $300 range taillight replacement quotes. Maybe $65 will seem a lot better to her then.
I'm hoping that tomorrow, when I hand her the body shop quotes, she is thrown into such a rage that she starts making an even bigger scene in front of customers. I hope she gets shit from a manager or something about it. I hope it makes her consent to my original $65 quote, which I now fully intend to get from her (at least.)
Failing this approach, I will ask for her insurance information to file a claim. I'm not sure how well this will work; neither is my insurance company. It's worth a try, I believe. I also intend to tell her that if I can't get this paid for voluntarily or through insurance, I'm taking her to small claims court, though first I need to see if I can even do that for a matter of $65, though I could also say it's for $210, the cost of an OEM replacement. I hope that, if she doesn't cave from the estimates, the 'threat' of wasting her time in court will make her just pay me. I'm not holding my breath though; she seems like one of those really stubborn "I am in the right no matter what" types.
So we'll see how it goes tomorrow. I'll update accordingly.
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This past week/weekend, the 19th-24th, I went out to Philadelphia, towing a u-haul, helping Teh Ruthie move. We ended up paralleling a big motherfucking rain storm such that I couldn't see twenty feet in front of me. We kept going, because I was actually enjoying towing a u-haul though the mountains in low visibility, and because if we had stopped we would just run into the storm again later.
After we had cleared the storm, I kalled Hawke, and lightning (as far as I can tell) actually struck the cellphone tower I was connected to; flash-boom, no signal. It was neat.
Then I headed south to Roanoke, VA, to visit with family, after Ru had teh settled in. I passed numerous signs stating "Speed Limit enforced by Aircraft" - this seems to be a little misworded. Speed limit CHECKED by aircraft, perhaps, but enforced? I got this image of an F16 rising over a mountain ridge and bombing a speeding BMW.
Here's something random; another phrase that's mis-used a lot like 'literally' - "No offense, but..." ... "No offense, but you suck ass." Actually, I think offense was meant by that comment.
I could continue with random unstructured comments, but I won't.
Anyone want to buy a lincoln towncar? It's white.
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