randomwisdom.com

I'm sure that some of you have read from these books.

http://www.somethingawful.com/articles.php?a=2349

A handy little feature on my Japanese phone was an option that silenced the ringer and turned on vibration with one button. So you flip open the phone, hold a button for 2 or 3 seconds, and it displays "Manner mode ON". To turn it off, you flip the phone open, hold the same button, and it displays "Manner mode OFF". So if you're in class, or at work, or you're in an important meeting, you never have people's phones making noise.

Contrast this with the phone I'm borrowing from my mom at the moment. There's no simple way to shut off the ringer and turn on vibration. It takes about 10 keypresses to set incoming calls to vibrate, and another 10 to set it back. Furthermore, the phone makes a noise when you fumble through the menus on the phone to silence the ringer, when you turn the phone on, and it even makes noise when you turn it off. Meaning that if your phone goes off in the middle of class, you'll also annoy everyone when you shut the damn thing off.

The only way to turn off the phone without making noise is removing the battery.

Thank you, Samsung. You've made my case for cell phones being evil.

Today's interesting link:

The Gallery of Regrettable Food

Well my friends finally got the opportunity to see Hero, which is a movie that has been out for a couple years. I saw a Japanese DVD edition with English subtitles back in spring, and it looks like they've touched up the translation a little bit.

The fighting is pretty good, but what I really love about this movie is the director's use of color. Just see it and you'll know what I'm talking about.

I haven't really put much thought into how much going back to classes really stinks. The first few days of classes are consumed with professors reading the syllabus out loud during class, every single one. Each professor has a particular method of trying to make you attend their class, whether it's taking quizzes at random points throughout the year (which of course cannot be made up) or just passing around an attendance sheet. Then they waste that forced attendance on a lecture of the material found in the textbook. Oh well. I guess I only have to slog through one more year of this crap. And I suppose I can use that time to do assignments for other classes.

I refuse to be unproductive with my time.

I'm starting this in Houston. So far, here's what has happened today:

1. Wake up at 8:30am. Throw on clothes just in time for a knock on the door from Andy, then immediately a phone call from the office, before I have a chance to take the sheets off my bed or remove the last few objects of crap from my desk.

2. The cleaning nazis arrive promptly at 8:40am. While remarking on how clean my gas range looks, they proceed to tell me I need to clean it AGAIN. Keep in mind I had spent all day yesterday scrubbing the hell out of it with a piece of steel wool with industrial strength detergent, which had the intended effect of getting the grill cleaner than when I moved in, and the unintended effect of peeling the skin off my hands. They tell me I need to scrub the BACK of the gas grill, which is neither visible nor any dirtier than when I moved in, and the walls around the gas grill, which had been resistant to previous scrubbifying. They also point out that a desk drawer I hadn't used was (as) filthy (as the day I moved in) and that the windowsills needed scrubbing. This with my train leaving in less than 2 hours.

3. I finish The Cleaning Part 2 at 9am, and wait around for 15 minutes before realizing they want me to call them back. The cleaning nazis return to try to clean the already clean room even further. Upon failing half an hour later, they finally let me go.

4. Arrive at Sendai station, 9:50am. Proceed to mail a final small box of unpackables before attempting to meet Lane at ten. Because I had reserved my tickets the previous day (booyah) I was able to actually get on the train I needed at 10:24am, but Lane had to grab the 10:30am yamabiko (non-express) instead. Sorry, Lane, but I made my train, and it would have been a pain to make my plane.

5. Arrive by said Shinkansen at Ueno, 12:02pm. Next Keisei Skyliner leaves at 12:40pm. Note to self: never take Skyliner ever again, because it sucks having to wait half an hour after taking the fast train.

6. Arrive at airport with at least two hours to spare. No missing the plane this time, ohhhh no. Despite the longest line for an airport checkin I have EVER seen, I make it with time in the bank. Get seated in a window seat, despite having made reservations for the aisle seat, but get seated in the middle of a bunch of Japanese high school guys who are going on a NASA field trip to Houston and Florida and MIT. I think they were from Kagoshima, or somewhere in the middle of nowhere at least, but I had no trouble talking to them for the whole flight on the...

7. Boeing 777! Well I had to make that a separate number, because of all the sevens together. It's lucky, you see. For some reason we flew right over Los Angeles, which I pointed out to all the eager high school students, and directly over the Catalinas at 37000 feet, which meant I got a clear view of Tucson. My kingdom for a parachute, I said at that point, and little did I know how much trouble that would have saved me in....

8. f***ing Houston Intercontinental Airport. The only reason they didn't add the word Ballistic is that it's redundant; the whole place is enough to drive one bonkers. Now I thought I might have a bit of hassle getting through the security checkpoint with my miniature toy plastic katana sticking out of my backpack. Until they realized that it was in no way dangerous, because it's small, light, not sharp, and made out of FUCKING PLASTIC. The logical reaction would be to giggle and point like the Tokyo security people. You know, they run it through the metal detector, and the X-ray machine, and it's not metal. But no, this is the TSA, and so they have to go through four supervisors, and the regular guy just kinda shrugs at me, and I shrug back, and he says, "You know, you can't take this on the plane with you" after I've told him that I already checked my two bags stacked full of crap. To his credit, he actually walks me back out to the Continental international checking place, and we have a nice little chat on the way. Apparently THIS MORNING some nitwit from Somwhatchastan left a leaky chemical container at that particular check counter, and there was some white powder involved, and a bunch of people got sick. We get to the one checkin place and he cuts into the front of the line for me. The guy checking baggage needed some morphine or something though, because the stupid bastard keeps yelling at me that he doesn't have any extra boxes and that there isn't anything he can do and I've already checked your two bags and blah blah blah. At which point the TSA guy kinda whispers to me to go check out the other domestic checkin, and that they'll probably be more laid back.

8 point continued. So I do. And they are. And the nice lady rolls her eyes and finds a box which is more than big enough for my extremely dangerous plastic ninja swords (which are made out of plastic so that they can make it through metal detectors and still kill people). So then, bags checked, everything undangerous, I go through the ceremony of emptying my pockets of change, and I set off the metal detector. Third check of the day, only one that went off. Removed belt, shoes, rummaged through pockets again. I get waved over and wanded by this big guy, looks like he could be a linebacker. I'll put his quotes in italics. First thing that the wand picks up is a piece of foil wrapped Pocky candy, about the size of a Snickers bar. "Wow, I've never seen that kind of candy before, where'd you get it?" "Japan." "Wow. You from there?" Okay, my bad, that should have gone in the tray. Keeps going, sets it off again. This time it's a wrapped candy the size of a quarter. "Damn, that thing is pretty sensitive, huh?" "You'd be surprised at the kinds of stuff we pick up with this thing." Keeps going, and sets it off a third time. And I get to make a crude remark about how small Japanese condoms are. "Yeah, I hear that's the case, isn't it? *chuckle*" Damn that's embarassing. But funny.

Now I'm waiting in the Houston airport. It's subjectively 6:50am on Thursday, although it's really just 4:50pm on Wednesday. And soon it will be 4:50pm on Wednesday, in Tucson. Or it already was. Yes, that's it. And I'll leave at 5:50pm and arrive at 6 something pm and everything will be fine, just fine.

http://www.armchairarcade.com/aamain/content.php?article.48