Why I Want to Read Your Mind - Guest Post by Zechariah Brewer

Zechariah Brewer is a man. Zechariah Brewer has a plan. He also has two blogs, Life After Facebook and Love Thy Roommate, which I recently wrote a guest post for.

Take it away, ZBrew...

I really wish I could read your mind.

Sorry, that sounded creepy.  Let’s try again.  I really wish we could read each other’s minds.  All of us, not just you and me.

I know what you’re thinking.  If we all could hear each other’s thoughts, we’d go crazy from the overload of six billion other thoughts coming from other people around the world.  First we’d go crazy, then we’d have a global thermonuclear fistfight, and then the survivors would crawl out of their holes and come up with some sort of global peace alliance, or at least an armistice.  This being because the only survivors would be those who didn’t feel like fighting, the fighting gene would be weeded out.  After a few generations, it would be second nature, and we’d wonder how we ever lived without it.

I’m pretty sure that’s how it happened in the Star Trek universe

But I do have my reasons.  Wanna hear em?  Too bad, you’re getting them anyway.
  1. The service industry would run a lot smoother.  Your waitress wouldn’t get your order wrong unless she was trying.
  2. Driving would be easier, especially in traffic.  Horns are good, but too indiscriminate.  There’s not much difference between the “Hey bro!” honk, the “Hey bay-bee!” honk and the “Hey stupid!” honk.  Since the last hundred years hasn’t yielded a specific “Why are you driving 35 in a 55 in your muscle car?” honk, I’d much more prefer the option to think at you.

at least until we all start using these puppies again…the radio, not the actual puppy…
  1. Let’s avoid us some relationship disputes, shall we?  Not just dating/marriage relationships, but parent-child, parent-teenager, roommate, business, and….how many of us have had our parents say to us, “Maybe I should learn to read minds, then!”  Since my mom has yet to perfect that, and I assume yours hasn’t either, we can understand the need for this, right?  Right?  Right.
  2. You know all that stuff I forget to do, but you remember it and hang it over my head for the rest of my life?  I could just go into your memory banks and pull up everything I’ve forgotten and you’ve held on to, all long before I admit to you that I forgot and get in a heap of trouble for it.

Worst comes to worst, we’ll probably figure out how to block others from reading our thoughts, so the whole process would just yield a worldwide Twitter stuck in our heads.  Just what this world needs…

Zechariah Brewer has way too little to say and way too many words to say it with.  He blogs about how he’s handling Life After FaceBook as well as practical ways to Love Thy Roommate.  Maybe one day he’ll have something better to say.

Colliding with Wisdom, Part II - Guest Post By Burrill Strong

Note from Ricky: We had the baby! This week is going to be a potpourri of guest posts from a few kind folk who knew I wouldn't have time to blog. I hope you enjoyed Burrill's post from yesterday, and that you enjoy his post for today even more. Later this week we have Knox McCoy, Zechariah Brewer, and Rob Shepherd. Chad Jones kicks it off again next week. I'll start posting again when I can. Enjoy!

If you don't remember the lessons in Part I, go back and read the post again before I get offended and start driving in your neighborhood.

Angry Indian men are easier to handle than distraught teenage girls
Does this one really need explanation? Well...yeah, it probably does.

For some bizarre reason my parents continued to let me drive their minivan; naturally, I repaid them by getting in another accident with it. I’m that cool.

At the corner of Crazy Busy Main Road and Quiet Residential Street in Ann Arbor, one homeowner thought it would be a superb idea to plant hedges along the sidewalk. As I discovered when I was trying to turn onto Crazy Busy Main Road, it was, in fact, a lousy idea: because of the hedges, I couldn't see approaching traffic unless I actually pulled into the road. Like the suave gentleman I am, I pulled out right in front of a teenage girl who was just learning to drive. Here’s the sequence of events summed up in five words:


I spent the next half hour wondering what on earth I could say to a distraught teenage girl whose first car accident I’d just caused. I ended up talking to the understandably miffed but dry-eyed driving instructor.

Both vehicles suffered minor damage. On the bright side, the obstructive hedges suffered drastic trimming.

That road sign you’re seeing might have been purchased by somebody you know
More specifically, it might have been purchased by that person’s insurance company.

One extraordinarily snowy evening I was on an extraordinarily snowy -- and, fortunately, extraordinarily empty -- highway when my vehicle caught a large clump of snow. Hello, spin cycle! I wasn't cool enough to pull a 360, but I did pull a 270, ending with my front wheels in the ditch and my rear wheels on the shoulder. When I got my bearings, I realized my rear bumper had taken out one of the posts of an exit sign.

Months later, my insurance company called to inform me the state had filed a claim for the damage to the sign. Months after that, a new sign appeared. Though the state of Michigan might disagree, I still consider it my sign.

Oh, and that was my parents’ minivan. AGAIN.

Sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name
And sometimes that’s the site of an accident.

Solve for x:
6:15am + (barely freezing temperatures + light rain) + a highway entrance ramp designed to create havoc = x

If you’re having trouble with that inconceivably complex problem, you can see the answer here.

Amidst the chaos caused by the ice (ice, baby), a police officer approached me and asked for my license so she could take down my information. (I thought she might be signing me up to receive money-saving special offers and exciting new product information from the police department. Boy, was I wrong.) When she glanced at my license and saw my last name, she cheerfully exclaimed that she’d gone to high school with my older brother.

I ended up sitting in the back of her police car, but don’t worry: she didn’t arrest me. She just took pity on me because I was shivering. I guess she decided I had the right to remain warm. You can read every last little detail of that morning here.

That was the last accident-based lesson I learned. I think I might have left out an accident or two, but I’m not sure. Seriously. In any case, I hope I've learned my lessons.

Have you learned any valuable lessons from car accidents?

Colliding with Wisdom, Part I - Guest Post By Burrill Strong

I recently made the final payment on my car loan. If you've ever paid off a car loan, you know making that final payment provides a sense of relief much like that of having a bear trap removed from your ankle after you spent five and a half years sending piles of money to the bear trap every month.

This occasion is notable for another reason: I’ve now gone five and a half years without staging my own impromptu demolition derby on the roads of Michigan. Prior to this magical stretch, my driving record wasn't just checkered; it was completely charred. I once even had my license suspended because the guy at the Secretary of State thought my Euphemism-Americanness was affecting my driving. A doctor decided otherwise, so I got back on the road.

Of course, unpleasant circumstances can provide valuable lessons. To celebrate both the end of my car loan and the continued drivability of my current vehicle, I’ve compiled a few important lessons my accidents taught me.

Don’t cry over spilled milk
If you’re going to cry over something, cry over that $120 ticket you just got for running into another car.

My first accident was the direct result of my taking my eyes off the road to tend to the beverage that had just tipped over, a problem that occurred because my first car didn’t have cupholders. Yes, that beverage was milk. And no, nothing in this paragraph is a joke. I would never joke about a tragic lack of cupholders.

The good news: the milk didn’t spill.

(The accident’s only noticeable lasting effect on my car was the partial license plate of my victim’s car engraved into the front of my car. That’s also not a joke. So...pretty much my entire first accident was a joke that wasn’t a joke. Ha...ha?)

See the broken-down car, be the broken-down car
If you find that broken-down car on the highway too interesting, you might join it.

I was driving on the interstate when, on the other side of the highway, I saw an eye-catching broken-down car on the other side of the highway. Since I’m not a lizard with two independent eyes, I didn't see traffic slowing down in front of me. Oops. But hey, if they didn't want them to be bumped, they wouldn’t call them bumpers, right?

Oh, and that vehicle I was driving wasn’t my car. It was my parents' minivan.

If you work hard enough, you can find a positive
Even if you have to use your imagination.

My first car met its sad demise when I ran a stop sign, causing a collision with an SUV.

The good news: it was a residential street, so it was a low-speed collision.
The bad news: the SUV hit me square in the driver-side door, bringing the door several inches closer to me.
The worse news: the impact also knocked loose a brake line. In other words, it broke my brakes. Them’s the breaks, eh?
The worser news: remember the lack of cupholders? Well, the impact also toppled a large Quizno’s cup full of Coke, soaking the front passenger seat.
The even worser news: my Bible was on the front passenger seat. I guess that made it the High Fructose Gospel.
The worsest news: the man who hit me was an angry Indian man driving his brand new, fresh-off-the-dealer-lot Buick SUV with a temporary paper license plate. I’m fairly certain he was actually driving it home from the dealer. Talk about swift depreciation!
The most worstest news: The angry Indian man didn’t have a cell phone, so he angrily asked to angrily use mine. Angrily.

When my car came to a stop, I realized I’d never again be opening my car door. Ever. When the angry Indian man approached, I also realized the drastically altered shape of my car door meant I’d never again be rolling down my window more than a couple inches. Ever. Ever ever. This led to the lone bright spot of the afternoon: to exit the vehicle, I popped out the sunroof and climbed out the top of the car like the star of some hip 1970s tv show. I felt so cool.

Well...I felt as cool as one can feel when he’s climbing out of the car he just wrecked because he ran a stop sign.

I'll never ride with Burrill. Would you?

Guest Post Swapping, Agent Smith Edition

Today Sharideth Smith, over at A Woman's Guide to Women, and I swapped guest posts. It's like we each took a vacation day to work somewhere else. We're going to have to reevaluate how we do these things.

Read Sharideth's attempt at running my help desk, and then head on over to her site to read my Romantic Dude Scorecard. It'll save lives.

network administrators have my pity.  they possess a level of patience i couldn't attain if i prayed for it for a 1000 years.  i really don't know how they do it.  have you read ricky's stories?!?  of course you have.  this is his blog and all.  i read it, too.  it makes me hate people even more than i already do.
ricky wants me to pretend like he has the day off at work and i have to man the IT phones.

here's how i imagine that might go.

god help us all.


me:  what?
person who is going to try to ruin my day (pwigtttrmd):  i have an error message.
me:  i bet you do.
pwigtttrmd:  do you want to know what it says?
me:  no.
pwigtttrmd:  it says "Access Denied".
me:  you just used air quotes, didn't you?
pwigtttrmd:  what?
me:  nothing.
pwigtttrmd:  what should i do?
me:  i don't know.
pwigtttrmd:  aren't you suppose to know?
me:  i guess so.  what were you doing when you got the error message?
pwigtttrmd:  logging in.  i tried 3 times and then i got the message.
me:  did you forget your password?
pwigtttrmd:  what password?

*thud thud thud*

pwigtttrmd:  what was that noise?
me:  me banging my head on my desk.
pwigtttrmd:  what?
me:  nothing.  you've had a password every day you've logged in since you started working here, what is
pwigtttrmd:  there's no need to take that tone with me.  this is clearly a problem with the computer.
me:  clearly.  what's your password?
pwigtttrmd:  fluffsnagles
me:  what?
pwigtttrmd:  fluffsnagles.  it was the name of my first set of cat slippers.
me:  there's nothing about what you just said that i understand.  how are you spelling that?
pwigtttrmd:  f l u f f s n a g l e s
me:  i've unlocked it.  try again.
pwigtttrmd:  tried it.  it didn't work.
me:  when did you successfully login last?
pwigtttrmd:  before i left for my wedding and honeymoon.
me:  has anything changed since then.
pwigtttrmd:  my name of course.
me:  what is your login name?
pwigtttrmd:  kittytoshiba
me:  that's not what i show here.  it says your login is kittycompaq.
pwigtttrmd:  that's my maiden name.  wouldn't my login automatically change when i got married?  don't computers know these things?
me:  goodbye.

what was the name of your first pair of slippers?

have you ever thought computers should just "know" something they didn't?  confess.  it's good for the soul.

Frequently Asked Questions

What time is it?

What do you want to eat for dinner?

What do you want to watch?

How much does it cost?

What's the square root of 42?


Why do I have to change my password?

Why are you so handsome?

When do we get paid?

What do you want to do?

Why do we have to work?

Where is my cell phone?

Where are we going?

Do we have to get up?

Did you hear the alarm go off?

Can you hear me now?

Did you read Ricky's blog too?

What are some questions frequently asked of you?

A Smashing Good Time

No, these aren't ink blots.

I'm not a shrink.

This is a oh-so-pretty smashed laptop screen.

Parents, don't leave your work laptop lying on the ground in the middle of the living room where your daughter can come running by and stomp on it.

And kids, don't do drugs.

Tell me some computer trauma stories!

Guest Post for Zechariah Brewer

I'm not here today.

So quit looking for me.

Seriously, now you're just a stalker.

Ok fine, I'll tell you.

I'm guest posting over at Zechariah Brewer's new blog, Love Thy Roommate.

Head on over and and to the list I started of things you should never share with your roommate!

Funny Things My Dad Says

My dad is the best man I know.

He's my example for how to walk with God, be a good husband and raise your kids right.

He also has a knack for saying unintentionally funny things.

One time we walked into Home Depot. Dad walked up to the first employee he saw, a woman, and asked, "Which end is your plumbing on?" Mom and I walked away quickly, choking back laughter.

He's also got a habit of pronouncing certain words incorrectly, or Canadian-ly, as the case may be.

He's not 'sorry' about something, he's 'sorey'.

He doesn't want you to 'wait' for him. He wants you to 'waint'.

He doesn't look at our family photo 'albums'. He looks at our 'alblums'.

He doesn't want 'onions' on his pizza, he wants 'ungyuns'.

But as much as I give him a hard time for his word usage, I still want to be like him. If I can be half the man my dad is, I'll consider myself a success.

I just hope the language skills don't catch on.

What? Hold on, Honey. I'm blogging. I know you want me to put that funny picture in the photo alblum of me crying while cutting the ungyuns, but you'll have to waint. Sorey!

What funny things do your folks say?

How To Be A Doctor

I think most kids grow up to work dead-end jobs simply because they didn't know how to get to their dream ones.

So this one's for the kids. Every kid has dreamed at one point in their lives of being a doctor.

Saving lives, a high salary, malpractice suits. What's not to like?

Things You Can Do Now To Prepare For Your Future As A Doctor
  • Apply for med school. Since this process can take so long, it's never too early to apply. Remember that you won't start your career until ten years after all your friends. Get a head start!
  • Watch Doogie Houser. He's just a kid, and yet he's a doctor. If he can do it, you can too!
  • Rummage through Mom and Dad's medicine cabinet. Read all the labels and learn what each one does. Don't take any of the medicine; that would be dangerous. Give it to the cat instead to see what happens.
  • Surf Web MD. Look at all the weird things people can come down with. If any of it freaks you out, you're probably better off as an IT guy. If it intrigues and excites you, you've found the right profession.
    • Weirdo.
  • Keep people waiting. When Mom and Dad call you downstairs for dinner, wait at least thirty minutes. When you finally come, act preoccupied and furrow your brow as you stare off into space and ignore the family dinnertime chat.
  • Give ambiguous answers. When people ask you questions, don't tie yourself down to definitive answers. You'll need this later when diagnosing your patients.
    • "You may have carpal tunnel, Mrs. Johnson. Or malaria. Or rapid hair loss triggered by onset coronary failure. We'll need to run some more expensive tests."
      • "Oh, no! Is it fatal?"
        • "Only if you die."
What tips do you have for the kids?

Blight at the End of the Tunnel, Part II

I'm milking this audit training thing for all it's worth!

There were some really silly questions about some of the case studies. For your reading pleasure, I have provided the questions and some of the actual answers I submitted.

Q. For what key piece of audit evidence did the auditor rely solely on representations from the client?
A. He relied on sticky notes he found on the CFO's desk.

Q. What could he have done to corroborate these representations?
A. He could have gone to the sticky note manufacturer to see whether they were in cahoots with the pencil industry. This would enable him to research the effects of collusion on the bond rate of the balance sheet depreciation, in summarized aggregate detail.

Q. If the auditor had “kept his eyes open,” what should he have seen?
A. He should have seen the clients dancing on the conference table, wearing nothing but $100 bills.

Hey, it's a survival technique.

How would you have answered?

Things I'm Not Above Doing to Get Out of Corporate Audit Training

I'm a network administrator.

However, I work for an accounting firm. This means we have mandatory annual firmwide training.

We don't have the budget to give me any IT training, but we sure do have enough cents to put me through audit training. Here's a few things I'm not above doing in order to get out of it next time:

  • Fake a heart attack
  • Kill the network
  • Volunteer for jury duty
  • Commit a misdemeanor. Know anything that'll get you just one day in jail?
  • Create an on-the-job injury. If I jump off the fifth floor, it'll end my misery permanently. The second floor? Probably just a broken leg.

What would you do to get out of audit training?

Blight at the End of the Tunnel

My eyelids grow heavy.

My head bobs.

My mind wanders.

The life is slowly sucked out of me.

There is no escape. Worse, there is no lunch.

Yes, I am taking corporate audit training.

Send help!

What's the most boring part of your job?

Marvin, the Robotic Quarterback

I used to be an intern at Intel. I made web pages and built workstations.

I didn't get to go in the fab very often, which is best. If you've seen the ads with the factory workers in the multi-colored bunny suits dancing around, the fab may seem like fun.

It's actually really, really hot in one of those suits. And you can have whatever color you'd like, as long as it's white.

The cool part is you get to feel like an astronaut. You can wear a full mask with an oxygen pack. And if you're like me, you breath like Darth Vader and say, "Houston, we have a problem."

I had a very important job inside the fab. I had a clipboard of green stickers that said "Year 2000 Capable". I went through each section of the fab and put the stickers on equipment that had passed the Y2K rollover test. This was nearly every piece of equipment in the fab (minus that one boxy-looking one in the corner that made the ominous humming sound).

Since everyone was dressed the same, nobody could tell I was but a lowly intern. What they could see was my clipboard. This meant I could be an auditor - or worse, management. I would head over to a group of fellow astronauts to ask a question, and they would disperse before I got there.

Once I went into a suddenly empty wafer transfer room (it's probably not called that, but since I don't really know much about the equipment, I get to make stuff up and you probably don't know the difference).

I was putting stickers on the various machines, minding my own business, when I heard it.

*clink, rattle rattle*

I looked up, confused.

*clink, rattle rattle*

I turned around.

*clink, rattle rattle*

There were several microchip wafers on the floor. Even as an ignorant sticker intern, I doubted the floor was in integral part of our production line.

*clink, rattle rattle*

I followed the arc of the next wafer to see where it was coming from. One of the big expensive machines (let's call him Marvin) had a robotic arm that passed the wafer off to the robotic arm of the next big expensive machine. Marvin decided hand-offs were boring and he'd like to try touchdown passes instead.

For lack of a better plan, I started catching them. This worked fine for a minute for so, but then my hands were full.

*clink, rattle rattle*

I wandered down a corridor, trying to find someone older and more responsible. All the responsible-looking folks were hurrying away from me. I started hollering and waving, bunches of wafers stacked in my hands.

Once they found out I was a high school kid and not an auditor, I quickly became a suspect. It took considerable amounts of explaining and convincing to the higher-ups that I hadn't fiddled with anything.

At least Marvin was Y2K compliant.

Have you ever gotten in way over your head on the job?

How To Be a Spy

I think most kids grow up to work dead-end jobs simply because they didn't know how to get to their dream ones.

So this one's for the kids. Every kid has dreamed at one point in their lives of being a spy.

Intrigue, suavity, poison in your scotch. What's not to like?

Things You Can Do Now To Prepare For Your Future As A Spy
  • Listen. You learn more by listening than by talking. Plus, talking too much to the wrong folks can get you killed.
  • Tiptoe. Spies can't be going around making all kinds of noise and attracting attention. It's a health hazard.
  • Target practice. You're probably going to need to be good with weapons. It's what I heard.
  • Be resourceful. Your handler's not going to just hand you a packet of cyanide or a plain old digital camera and tell you to get going. It'll be disguised as hair gel or an odd hat. Learn to think outside the box.
    • Watching MacGyver should help a bit.
      • MacGyver's real name is Richard Anderson. My real name is Richard Anderson. Coincidence? I think not.
  • Gain the confidence of others. Be reliable. Do your chores when you're asked. Be respectful. Your folks will think you're a wonderful child. They'll never suspect you're selling their secrets to the Russians.
What tips do you have for the kids?

Updates, Odd and Ends, Part IIIa, Which Is Unrelated to Part III, Because I Don't Remember What I Wrote Then

  • Jana says I'm weird about my socks. They have to be pulled up as tight as possible. Can't stand loose socks.
  • Can't wait for this here baby to come! I will have a completely blank slate upon which to paint someone's view of the world. Oh, the therapy sessions this kiddo will have.
  • I had sweet tea for the first time today. It was a tragic accident due to mislabeling. Blech! I don't know how you Southerners can stomach that stuff.
    • In Canada, they pour it on pancakes.
  • I hadn't realized what a double time-saver not keeping up with the news can be. Not only do I not waste time on all the dire gloom-and-doom, but it stops coworkers cold when they wander over to my desk and ask what I think of the latest horrible situation unfolding out there.
  • Knox McCoy and Tyler Tarver each have new books. There's new content in each, so if you read their blogs, don't worry about it just being a printed version of the posts. Check 'em out (the books, not Knox and Tyler. They're not that pretty.).
    • That was a weird set of parentheses and periods to juggle there. Probably bunged it up.
    • Get a Kindle version out there pronto, Tyler!
  • This is the last bullet point, because the typing box is full and I hate scrolling.
    • This one doesn't count.
What's the square root of 42, and what does it tell us about the assassination of Abraham Lincoln?


How did you find this blog?

What do you like about it?

What don't you like?

What is your favorite post?


Sock Her!

I don't understand soccer.

Yes, I get that the objective is to score more goals than the other team.

What I don't get is that soccer fans are never happier than when nothing is happening. If the score is 0 to 0, it's like Christmas for a soccer fan.

I admit much of my confusion regarding soccer is simply willful ignorance. I never played soccer as a child, and I've never watched a complete soccer game in my life.

In elementary school, there would be 100 kids kicking soccer balls around before school started. Invariably, it ended with me standing in the goal and blocking dodging 10 soccer balls zooming at my head at once. So I may be a bit biased.

Another thing that confuses me about soccer are the coaches. They dress in an athletic suit, as though they might have to go and spell the goalie for a bit. Has this ever happened?

Several of my friends at work are soccer fans. We get in spirited debates about which is more boring - soccer or baseball. When you're debating the virtues of boring with an accountant, you realize you have failed in life.

Although I stick by my claim that soccer is the second most boring sport. Soccer games are around 12 hours long. The only sport more boring is golf, although whether or not it's a true sport is definitely up for debate.

What sports do/don't you like?

How To Be a Supermodel

I think most kids grow up to work dead-end jobs simply because they didn't know how to get to their dream ones.

So this one's for the little girls. Every little girl has dreamed at one point in their lives of being a supermodel.

Fame, fortune, stalkers. What's not to like?

Things You Can Do Now To Prepare For Your Future As A Supermodel
  • Be tall. Supermodels need to be able to look down on everyone else. Before you go to sleep at night, concentrate for thirty minutes on making your bones grow. Stretch with your mind. You can do it!
  • Go to the gym. You need to be in great shape to be a supermodel. But remember - we're going for tone here, not muscle. If you think your neck is disappearing, put down the dumbbells.
    • Actually you're going to put down everyone, but we'll get to that.
  • Smirk, don't smile. You're not going to be happy being a supermodel. You're going to be annoyed. Remember that you're above it all, and you're just doing it for the money. If you smirk well, the people looking at your smirk will feel compelled to hand you their cash.
  • Eat well. And by eat well, I mean don't eat stuff that's bad for you, like food. Food makes you fat. Except celery.
    • This should be your motto: No food except celery so I can accept a salary.
      • You're welcome.
  • Rely on your looks. You don't need to pay attention in school. You can have the nerds do your homework for you. You should start expecting everything in life to be handed to you on a silver platter.
    • This will come in handy during the Miss America pageant you're going to win. Nobody wants a smart supermodel.
      • Gold platters are gaudy.
What tips do you have for the kids?

Movies I Wish They'd Remake

Hollywood is running out of creativity. They don't know what to do, so they endlessly remake movies that sold well previously.

If they're going to remake movies, I'd rather they remake the ones that need to be remade because they're so dated, not just the ones that did well.

Here's a few movies I wish they'd remake:
  • Arsenic and Old Lace
  • The Good, The Bad and the Ugly
  • Sergeant York
  • Who's Minding the Mint?
  • To Hell and Back
  • Safe at Home!
  • The Jackie Robinson Story
I'm sure there's a ton more. What movies do you wish they'd remake?

The Great Browser Debate

Throughout the history of the Internet, folks have debated the virtues of their favorite browsers.

Internet Explorer, Netscape, Firefox, Opera, Safari, Chrome, etc. Everybody's got a favorite and thinks you should use it, too.

I've heard all the arguments before, save one: MSN Explorer.

Today my boss, a lady who is roughly my age, had an issue loading her email on her personal computer and asked for my help. I waltzed over and stumbled a bit as I saw it: MSN Explorer. There it was, in all its colorful ugliness.
"There's your problem. You need a browser."
"What? This IS a browser."
"Nobody uses that. Try IE."
"I don't like IE."
"Usually that sentence comes from rational people. Why do you insist on using MSN Explorer?"
"It has all these colorful buttons."
"Do you have 12 cats, 16 grandchildren and an AOL account?"
"No, of course not."
"Then get rid of this garbage."
"What should I use?"
"Anything. Literally any other browser in the entire world."
I tried to be open-minded, so I ran a Google search for reasons to use MSN Explorer. The first non-Microsoft link to come up was a page detailing how to remove it. This should tell us something.

So, what browser do you use? If you use MSN Explorer and enjoy it, please defend it here. I'm genuinely curious whether it has any value beyond pretty buttons and no options.

Things I've Done Once

  • I used to be a professional magician.
    • I did exactly one show, but when you get paid for something, that makes you a professional, right?
      • It was a kid's birthday party. The kids were bored during the show.
        • When boogers and armpit farts are more interesting than your show, it's time to retire.
  • Juggled in front of an actual audience.
    • Wanna see me juggle three balls? Yay! Wanna see me do it again? Hello?
  • Gotten married.
    • She hasn't left yet!
  • During my entire three month career as a loan officer, I closed one loan.
    • It was for my in-laws, God bless 'em.
  • Performed a song using a nose flute. It was a duet with my mom, who also used a nose flute.
    • This is an actual instrument. Google it.
  • International travel
    • We went to Mexico once when I was five. I bought a guitar for 50 cents.
What's something you've done once?