What Ever Happened To....

10-10 Numbers.

I remember, not to long ago, being inundated with offers that could save me hundreds on my phone bill.

10-10-220, 10-10-987, where are you? Where are my spokesmodels? Where is Howie, Terry, Mike?

Imagine all the money you can save on your constant calls to Canada, Mexico, or anywhere in North America.

Maybe voip/skype type services scared them off (Though you couldn't tell by my sh!tty service).

Though I'm curious whether those adds are shown more regionally. For example, when I was living in Michigan they were on all the time, but the odds of someone in Detroit knowing someone in Windsor are higher than say someone in Arizona knowing someone in Québec.

Frankly I remember a time, long ago, when my family used the 10-10. But that was over 10-10 years ago. Maybe they've come back after a period of being dormant. Like Herpes, Vesuvius, or Jeff Goldblum.

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Merging Our Digital Assets.

When I married my wife, that came with certain assumed mergers. In addition to our lives and all our worldly assets, we too would merge our digital assets. Specifically our purchased iTunes songs.

Now you might remember George's attempt to sell his songs on eBay. He found it difficult and if nothing else expensive.

In my case, I'm not trying to get rid of the songs, rather I'm trying to consolidate our libraries into one more user friendly set. Currently, when we come across our purchased music, we need to log in and log out depending on who bought the song. Makes for some annoying UI if your sitting at the dinner table listening or hanging with friends.

So I emailed Apple to see if we could merge the accounts. I simply asked them if there was some way to move her songs to my account or vice versa. Their response was curt and basically unresponsive unconstructive.

I'm not sure if the curtness is what annoyed me the most, or the fact that they ended their uninformative jerkwad email with an advertisement for their growing catalog.

Next steps?

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Oh My Effin Chst! I knno facking baleefit!

Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic. Kernel Panic.

And it goes on like that. Unfuckingbelievable. 5 weeks of waiting and all I get is a 58 pound pile of Kernel Panic.

Stay tuned.

P.S. And I think I broke my f'kin toe in the process of schlepping that sh!t around.

P.P.S Does this sound like a rant?

UPDATE: So It's been running for several hours and working fine, the change? I reseated the Airport Card. Here's hoping it makes it through the night.

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Old Dirty Bastard, ODB, Osirus , Joe Bannanas, Dirt McGirt, Dirt Dog, Unique Ason, Big Baby Jesus Found Dead Today.

Shimmy Shimmy Y'all Off This Mortal Coil.

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Burned in: That ugly guy.

So during my lunch hour today I ran a few errands. On my way home, I was crossing the street, with a 'walk sign' waving me through, when a delivery van turned the corner. The driver wasn't looking so my scream was the only thing that prevented the accident. He was taking the corner pretty quickly, so I would imagine I would have had a tough time making my next birthday had we connected.

He gave me the gratuitous "watch where your fucking going" look and I returned in kind with the "you almost killed me asshole" hand gestures. Upon leaving the scene of the nonaccident, I realized that his face was burned into my minds eye.

I know when bad things happen to people they usually can't flush it out of their memory. So now, I'm trapped with one of the ugliest men I have ever seen as permanent data in my annuals of traumatic events.

Next time I see a pretty woman about to take a corner without looking, it might behoove me to jump in the way in order to erase the previous data. Though I'm not sure that will work the same way it does in other applications.

Crap.

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Jon Stewart on C-SPAN.

Worth a watch. The man poops pink.

rtsp://video.c-span.org/project/c04/c04102304_stewart.rm.

Unfortunately, needs Real Player.

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