Sometimes funny, sometimes thoughtful, always a good time
I just logged into my Discover credit card account, and I saw this lovely ad on the page:
While I applaud them for implementing enhanced security, and I realize they need to have some kind of stock photography to go with the little ad box, I’m curious about their choice of a little girl hugging her dad. What does this mean?
“Oh, Daddy, I’m so thrilled that you’re using enhanced security now!”
When I was up visiting Tom we were talking about the book Into Thin Air, where the author talks about the point where he was just about to die, and lamented the fact that he had a song stuck in his head and realized that he didn’t want to die to that song. It turns out the song was by the band Boney M, and Tom had cranked it in his car as we drove through the mountain passes of Washington.
The song, with the mysterious title “Brown Girl in the Ring”, includes such spellbinding lyrics as
And of course
But heck, I can’t make out the words that closely, so maybe I’m hearing them wrong. In any case, despite the horrible lyrics, it’s actually a very catchy song and sure enough, that refrain (“tra la la la la”) really gets stuck in your head.
Yay, Boney M!
In 1995 I opened a credit union account, because it was a requirement to get a 5% discount on a car through the Hughes/GE employee purchase program. The minimum amount you could put in the account was $5.00, and since I didn’t plan to use it for anything at all beyond qualifying for the car program, I dropped in five clams and let it sit.
Now, twelve years later, I decided I’ve finally had enough of the monthly statements, so I called them and asked that my account be closed. Of course they sent me a check for the balance in the account:
Through the magic of compound interest, I’ve managed to accumulate the grand total of $7.13 on the account. Woo hoo! Now that’s putting money to work!
The City of New York, in its infinite wisdom, has just passed what may be the first law of its kind in the country: it’s now illegal to use a metal bat in a high school baseball game.
Yes, indeed, there are few more pressing issues in the Big Apple than the rampant use of aluminum swat sticks at these games. It’s a good thing the city council took action, because heaven knows the devastation that would continue if they hadn’t. They cited two examples of serious injuries during high school games: one pitcher was killed and another injured (in two separate games) by baseballs hit from metal bats. But it’s not like these incidents occurred in New York at all, and they had to comb years of high-school data to come up with these examples. But clearly, they argued, it was the bats that caused these problems. Yeah.
I’m sure the next item on the docket is removing all of the playground equipment at elementary schools, since it poses a grave danger to the kids. Why, I myself was kicked in the head as a third-grader by someone on a swing*, leading me to break my collarbone! These things are simply unacceptable. Kids should never ever get hurt. Ever. Let’s take away anything that could possibly cause harm.
* Okay, so I was running under the swing at the time. But obviously it’s not my fault.
Happy Pi Day!
3.14… sometimes called the “most irrational day of the year”. Bada-bing.
(Also Albert Einstein’s birthday…)
I’m heading up to Seattle tonight, and in the past I’ve always been there in May or June when the weather was absolutely gorgeous.
This time, not so much.
Come on– rain every day?
This describes my work life so well it made me bust up.
My music player, AmaroK, has a fun feature called “50 Random Tracks” which will pick 50 songs from your entire collection at random and play them. It’s always a bit of an adventure doing it. I’m working now and listening to a crazy mix that includes things like Elvis Presley (“All Shook Up”) followed by Joe Satriani (“Summer Song”), a bit of Enya (“Book of Days”), and of course a little Weird Al (“Polkamon!”) to round out the set.
Whee!
“It is impossible to travel faster than the speed of light, and certainly not desirable, as one’s hat keeps blowing off.”
— Woody Allen
Yesterday we were in church, sitting behind our friends Rich and Christina and their kids. At one point during the service, their youngest son Elliott (age five) started unbuttoning his shirt. Christina leaned over to him and whispered frantically, “It’s not Muscle Time!”
Curious, I asked her later what Muscle Time was. She said Elliott really enjoys stripping down to his underwear and running around the house flexing his muscles and showing everyone how strong he is. In fact, she said, he often does this for an hour or two at a time. Of course that’s not a big deal at home, but I imagine she’d be mortified if it happened at church.
On the other hand, sometimes church could really use a little incident like that…