Les Bonnes Choses

Today is chilly. Not middle-of-January chilly, but with a forecast high of freezing, it's cold enough. Two stops before I got off the bus, some teenage kid gets on, wearing jeans and a short sleeved tee-shirt. My first thought was that he was trying to be cool. But then I thought he could just be mentally deficient. And then I decided that perhaps I was being unfair because this was Kipp's Lane, after all, and there's some subsidized housing nearby, so maybe he doesn't even have an appropriate jacket. So I got off the bus, mulling over how "too cool", "too stupid" and "too poor" might be sadly related to one another.

Speaking of "too stupid", I spent the last hour getting beauty wax off my hands. I'll stop you right there. I do not use the product, as will soon be apparent. I take a Gillette Mach-3 to my head every 3rd or 4th day. Rebecca's aunt, however, is an aesthetician, and it is she who owns the wax melting pot that was being returned from Rebecca's mom. Last night when I brought it in, I left it on its side because I had no idea what it was, or what the consequence would be. Sticky wax everywhere. So I felt obliged to try to clean the damn thing. This is the part of the story where it becomes apparent I have never touched the stuff before: I didn't wear gloves. I was clever enough to use an embossing torch to melt the wax so I could wipe it off of the pot. However, I managed to get the wax all over my hands. And the bloody stuff was extremely difficult to get off. It reminded me of those sticky paper mouse traps. Hot water and soap didn't cut it. Alcohol didn't work either. Using a sharp knife to scrape it off only removed the bulk of it, but my hands were still extremely sticky. In the end, I used campfire fuel (which is a flammable solvent) and, inspired by a CBC radio segment on household stain removal, peanut butter (which is oil-based, and mildly abrasive).

And to the lady-folk who deliberately apply wax to their bodies ... what the hell?

I got a new ergonomic foam pillow last weekend. Now we have a(n almost) matching pair. They're both made of that memory foam stuff that forms to your contours. The only downside is that, because the pillow is brand-spanking-new, and made of crazy petrochemicals (I suppose), it still has a sort of strange chemical smell. I don't really notice it, except in the morning, when I wake up to find that my head has a new car smell.

Meanwhile, back in facebook land, I have been drafted into multiple scrabble games. I just wrote on Vivian's wall to explain that I am not a scrabble snob. Rather, I am trying to keep the number of games I am playing at one time under control. I am kind of hoping more of my opponents make use of the little message board. I really look forward to checking out my game with Michelle because we have this little conversation going on. By the way, I am no where near as competent in real-life scrabble, where if you play a bogus word, your opponent can call you on it, and you are screwed. Online, you can play your word, and if it happens to make other really obscure words along the way, bully for you. Also, I rely heavily on the 2-letter word list. Actually, I found a lot of good scrabble tips on this website. I really hope you're not surprised to find I would read up on scrabble strategy. Honestly. *I've been competitive at everything I've done since losing to Vivian in that spelling bee back in grade 6.

*That's not really why I'm competitive. I like to win because I'm a bit of a jerk. But just a wee bit.

The New York Times has an article online about Sesame Street, and how the show with which we grew up couldn't possibly be run today. Just like those death trap school yard playgrounds that have been since nerfed, it's yet another indicator of the pussification of society. Now that natural selection is no longer allowed to operate, how are we going to survive as a species?

I'll give you three guesses as to what I got in the mail today. Those of you who are aware that Revenue Canada has reassessed me at least twice a year for the last five or six years only get one guess. I do not generally identify with the Conservative party. However, their election platform included one item that I could get behind: income from scholarships was no longer to be taxed. As last year's income came primarly from my NSERC scholarship, I felt like I was getting away with something when I filed my taxes in April. Except when it's Revenue Canada you're dealing with, you can be sure you won't get away with anything. Even if the country's taxation policy says you can. For some reason, some jackass in Winnipeg decided that, in my case, my NSERC scholarship is taxable. Is coin-flip now part of Revenue Canada's taxation arsenal?
Can someone please come up with a reason that I should even bother filing my taxes? I mean, if they are just going to make shit up and tell me I owe them some random amount of money anyways...
Amy thought I should apply for the Canada Research Chair position in Winnipeg. I emailed her today and told her that it is best that I don't live in Winnipeg. If I did, I would be on the news by now. It wouldn't be pretty. I look forward to updating on Monday, after someone at their call center has a really bad day. I'll try to go easy on them though. Unless they can put me through to the clown who's responsible for this idiocy. Oh, I hope they can do that! This may come as a surprise, but I can be really snippy.

This computer will soon go offline for a little while as I install Fedora 8 (currently running Fedora 6). Normally, I wouldn't be in any particular hurry to upgrade, however I downloaded the latest version of AFNI (the software I use to do fMRI analysis) and it no longer seems to work. Plus, the latest version of Fedora is codenamed Werewolf, which is really cool.

Did you see that? I was being ironic just then. But seriously, they have added a feature that will download codecs, which are bits of software your computer needs to play back multimedia files. Now I understand it is still limited to the one required for .mp3 playback, but it's a step in the right direction. I don't know why I don't just install Ubuntu, which I hear is better all-around at accepting the reality that people are going to publish media files using whatever software they have available and know how to use (news flash: when CNN hires some DeVry graduate to convert some video for online presentation, they will let him use the same software package that the school taught him to use, because that just makes sense. I doubt many linux-hackers that are familiar with Ogg-Vorbis are to be found doing such menial tasks).

And also, in addition to the missing tea balls, I am missing my Ikea coffee/tea steeper, which is considerably bulkier and one would think much more difficult to lose. It was my backup plan for making loose tea. I am at a loss for why the tea gods are smiting me.

People who may have been paying attention to my Facebook or MSN status in the last few weeks may have concluded that I am often feeling particularly macho. This has never been truer than right this moment. Several years ago, I was in the magazine section of Chapters when I noticed a computer magazine for Mac users. It was called Mac Home. However, the typographers were all clever and artsy and ran the words together: it looked something like "machome", or as I chose to read it, "macho me". Well, I am now at home, and using my new Mac mini (I really like it, probably because it's so tiny). I had to get a VGA cable so I could hook it up to our LCD television down here in the basement. I also note that I am getting a really good wireless signal from my router, which is often not the case with my laptop. While I wish I could take advantage of the entire screen (my television will only support a 4:3 aspect ratio, even though it is widescreen).

One might wonder why I am down in the basement with a computer hooked up to a 32" LCD television. There are a couple reasons: first, I really needed to look at some files that were on this computer from the fMRI crash-course I took so that I can figure out how to do a couple things for a project with a looming deadline, and I didn't want to have to disconnect my monitor from my desktop computer. Second, and just as important, I did it because I could.

Y'all can stop looking now. John is the scavenger hunt champeen of the world. Or at least, the interwebs. Now I like to think I can navigate that series of tubes as well as the next guy -- and maybe I can, so long as I am not sitting next to John. I must ask him (and indeed, by writing this, I effectively am) where the hell he found a digital copy of the Indio album, because I couldn't find it on any torrent sites or even for legitimate download. Yes, I could purchase the album in mp3 format from a skeezy website based in Russia, but I'm about as likely to patronize a Russian ecommerce website as I am to patronize a syphilitic prostitute.

In other news, my car is presently modified so as to be detectable to the blind. Hi tech gadgetry? No, I hit a skunk (or at least straddled it) on my way to this evening's soccer game (for which I paid $4 to park so that we could wait around for a ref not to show up). I saw the stunned skunk waddle off in the rearview, so I didn't kill the damn thing. However even if I did: not my fault. Wet roads and a plodding, predominantly black animal at night time with an awkward gait do not mix. So yeah, the underside of the car has been skunk-guarded.

I added a couple of things today to my wishlist. If anyone is able to find that Indio CD in a used CD bin somewhere, I shall crown them the World Scavenger Hunt Champion. Amazon sells it used starting at $130. Supply? Demand?

I also found some instructions on Lifehacker for making your Linux desktop look exactly like that of a Mac. Down to the login. I mean, if you follow these instructions, and download a few files, you would have no idea at all you weren't using a Mac. That's funny. I don't know if I would go to all that trouble, though if we start using Macho Me around here, maybe I would do that to transition Rebecca...

"We replaced this woman's operating system with Folgers crystals. Let's see if she can tell the difference."

Later this month, Rebecca, Jude and I are tentatively scheduled to meet up with our friends Krista, Brett & family (formerly of Rochester fame) in Toronto at the Delta Chelsea. Brett is a faculty member at OSU - Cincinnati, and I believe that academic business brings him up to Toronto. The hotel is downtown, so it's a bit pricier than, say, a motel room on the highway. So as I was washing the kitchen floor this afternoon, I was thinking about this upcoming stay, when those thoughts mingled with some details about the CogSci '08 conference, the website for which I have been charged with building. It occurred to me that conferences often book large swaths of rooms, and the conference-goers enjoy a discounted rate when staying at the hotel. For the CogSci conference, for example, one should mention they are with the CogSci conference when booking at the Omni hotel in Washington, so that they can get the discount. Of course, conference web pages get indexed by Google, so it seemed to me that finding a conference going on at a hotel that you plan on staying at anyways might be trivially easy.

Incidentally, if you plan on staying at the Delta Chelsea in Toronto on the 23rd, a travel advisory association will be convening there that day.

A couple things occurred to me this evening. Actually, 3 did, but I forgot the last one, so I probably won't mention it unless I remember it by the time I am finished talking about the other two.

So, first of all, I was shopping for my dad's birthday this evening. I won't say what store it was because it might give away the surprise. Not that my dad reads my blog. Or even knows I have a blog. Or thinks that blog is a word in the English language. Anyways, I got to the checkout, and paid by credit card. Then the guy hands me the little receipt thing that I am supposed to endorse, and tells me he "just needs [my] autograph down at the bottom". It's one of those cliches that everyone in retail says -- I'm not sure why, because it's too tired to be useful for breaking up the monotony of it all. I had to pause because my brain was apparently in smartass mode. I really wanted to reply, "Shall I make this out to my number-one fan Steve, best wishes, Chris?" But I didn't.

Right afterwards, I met up with Rebecca in Toys Я Us*. And when I walked around looking for her, I remembered how I used to go there all the time as a kid -- I grew up on the street right behind it, and remember when the land on which it was built was a muddy field. Anyways, I had one of those moments when I realized that I was on the other side of the looking glass. Although I didn't buy anything for Pokey, I could have, and that's why it occurred to me that I am now in the role of a parent who goes into toy stores to buy toys for their kids, whereas my memories were of being a kid for whom the toys were being purchased. I'm not sure if I can adequately convey how deep and trippy that was, so I may have to appeal to the inadequacy of my writing if you don't believe me.

Maybe that last thing I wanted to mention concerns Deanna's word association norming study that I did. I won't give away specifics, in case she has enlisted you to help, but suffice it to say, it turns out that one of her dad's peculiar responses was not so idiosyncratic after all. If you know Deanna, feel free to ask her for details.

*I really wanted to type a backwards 'R', however I could not find an equivalent HTML Unicode character code in the two character map websites I googled.
UPDATE: I was able to select a similar character from the Cyrillic alphabet on one of the character maps, and cut and pasted it.