Yes, It's a Reptle

Know what Winning is?
A lizard named Harriet.

• I just saw a commercial for this 'miracle combination bamboo bra', which was guaranteed to overcome every problem women have ever had with bras. I'm thinking that if you have an issue with your bra, you probably don't want one made of bamboo. Getting poked in the boobs by little bamboo probes all day has to be somewhat unpleasant. The Vietnamese used to put slivers of bamboo underneath the fingernails of their enemies to torture them.

Sometimes you gotta be a dick. Well, sometimes *I* have to be a dick. No idea why - it's almost a primal instinct. For some reason, I feel compelled to mess with people who have OCD. 

Well, not only me. At my last job, there was a lady who had some serious OCD. She'd go into a meeting room, and before the meeting, would notice a picture on the wall that wasn't straight. She'd get up from her seat to fix it. In absolutely no time at all, another Total Bastard picked up on this. He'd wait til she fixed the picture and sat down, at which point he'd get up and tilt it a bit. He'd sit across from her to watch her get up. It was beautiful to watch, especially when it happened after the meeting started.

Mrs. lefty has an OCD tendency or two. Since we're in the same house and married, I have absolutely no choice in the matter. When watching tv, the volume must be on an even number. She cannot explain why, but gets visibly upset when I ask. Therefore I must change the volume to an odd number. She gets more excited and changes it back. Not to be outdone, I change it back. She tells me it no longer matters, and she'll just watch tv. Within sixty seconds, the pressure is too great and the volume needs to go back to the even number. We actually have two remotes, just in case. If I'm in a particularly evil mood, we'll watch an entire program, then I'll casually mention that the volume was on an odd number the entire time. She says no problem, but I know she won't be sleeping that night.

A previous girlfriend had to get out of the shower by the rear of the curtain. Without any choice in the matter, I kept opening the front of the curtain and insisting we get out there. She turned white, pulled the curtain in the other direction and got out quickly, lest I catch her.

I told you I was a dick.

• From the people who brought you diversity hiring (white people), comes a new app called ShopNoir, which allows you to Buy Black this holiday season. If I had even the smallest clue about programming, my app would be called ShopSinister, which allows you to Buy Left-Handed this holiday season. 
• This will be followed by ShopCracker, for buying white; ShopHanukah for buying Jew (the Anti Defamation League will be calling later today); and ShopGyno, for female-owned stores this holiday season. Not represented so far are the potential beneficiaries of ShopWhich, the transexuals, who are currently out protesting. Last but never least is ShopCorrect, where you don't buy from the white male patriarchy and its opposite number ShopPrivilege, in case you want to shop exclusively with White Male Patriarchy Privilege.
• None of this will matter, as most people will ShopCheap.

We ran out of soda the other day [loud, suspenseful sound effect from Law and Order-SVU]. Wife said she was so desperate, she actually drank water. Sometimes I feel guilty, like I don't provide well for my family.

• TODAY'S TIN FOIL MINUTE: According to Consumer Intelligence Research Partners, about 20 million homes have a voice-activated assistant (Amazon Echo or Google Home). That's 20 million people who paid a sum of money for Amazon or Google to spy on them and keep their personal information. What could possibly go wrong?
• This is another salvo in the War on Privacy, proving yet again that people are voluntarily ignorant about privacy or they simply don't care. Or both.
• Not that the concept is a bad one.... this is the future, where you simply speak to your house and it does Stuff for you. It's truly cool to ask your house when is the last showing of Deep Throat at the Adult Metroplex, in the seedy part of town. Soon you'll be able to order tickets via your house, allowing you the option of Just Cleaned seats or discount Sticky seats.
• When voice recognition technology is processed in the cell phone, instead of going upstream to servers, where it is kept, I'll start using it. The moment you want one service to interact with another, you're putting yourself out there.

A new survey of 1,600 Australians shows most people are concerned corporations are violating their privacy online. A similar survey of Americans shows most are concerned with Kim Kardashian and cat pictures.

•  A high level IT tech receives an emergency call from his system at 5am. The main file server has gone offline. He remote connects to the system, or at least he tries.. the remote system that will allow him to access the server won't work, which is why companies pay for remote systems. They knew the server wasn't long for this world, so they built a new one that ran in parallel, so he did a few Magic Tricks, copied some operating system files, and had the entire new server up before anyone got into work. He announced this via email to everyone, telling them to reboot if their computers didn't recognize the new server.
• Our hero was called into the Executive Office and, instead of a hearty Thank You, Attaboy, or Bonus, got yelled at and called unprofessional for installing the new server, because some people never bother saving their documents and leave them open overnight, so they lost them.
• Security begins at home, then follows you to work. Unfortunately, it only follows IT people. Upper level might occasionally give a nod towards it, but abandon it immediately if it becomes inconvenient for them. They even go so far as to hire expensive security experts to make recommendations for them to completely ignore.
• My old department put PINs on the corporate cell phones, for safety and privacy reasons. We also set all PCs to automatically lock after 5 minutes, so when people got up from their desks, others couldn't walk by and see private data or prohibited medical information. The Chief Operating Office appeared at my desk one week later, demanding we remove the PIN from her phone, because "security is.... inconvenient."  Right after that, the department was dragged into a six month series of meetings to decide the right amount of time before the computers locked. Everyone had input, which was somewhat less than helpful. Finally, the topic was dropped because people found it inconvenient to have to re-log into their computer when they walked away for a meeting or lunch or to flirt with a colleague, who would rather drink gasoline than deal with their neighbor.
• We are doomed.

Good things do happen, even in Philadelphia. Some bright light ran out of gas on the highway. A homeless man happened by and, seeing her plight, walked to a gas station and spent his last twenty dollars on gas for her. Do you want to talk about Heart?

More than impressed, the motorist set up a GoFundMe page to raise a few thousand to get the gentleman set up with an apartment and job services until he could support himself well.

The GoFundMe went somewhat over expectations; about three hundred thousand dollars at last count. The man received a house and a tidy sum, along with job counseling.  What did he do? Donated money to organizations that helped him. Do you want to talk about Heart?

• Ideally, you should use a Virtual Private Network (VPN) when doing anything from your computer. The connection can't be snooped on, offering full privacy for your data. One VPN service, PureVPN, boasts they don't keep logs, so you're secure from the authorities. Well, it turns out they lied: the FBI contacted them for information on a customer suspected of committing a crime and they turned over a treasure trove of information (that they don't keep).
• If you read this far, you'll be happy to know the following are no log VPNS: NordVPN, ExpressVPN, CyberGhostVPN, SaferVPN, and VYPRVPN.

It was the worst of times, it was the worst of times. And it was a bad time too. 

Some internal process started arguing with a different internal process.. I have no real idea what was happening, but the end result is that I felt like advanced death. It probably wasn't helping that I was at work. Sometimes I just sit there and nod off, which is fairly impressive if you happen to walk by. If it gets really bad, I feel like sitting under my desk. This doesn't happen often, which is probably a pretty good thing, as I like my job. They know me, so they might shake their heads, smile, and go on.

Eventually work ended and I somehow managed to convince the car to take me home. No, I do not have a self-driving car, but it always gets me home. Those of you who drink too much may experience a similar phenomenon. 

Once in the house, my mind turned to the thing I really wanted No, oddly enough, not sex.... I wanted a nap. A really satisfying nap. A deep, relaxing nap. The kind of nap that cures most of the world's problems.  With the total occupants in the house numbering two (the dog and me), I decided to use the couch.

This was my first mistake.  [I'm using the literary technique of foreshadowing here.]

Five satisfying minutes into my horizontal exercise, Marshall decided to surprise me by BARKING to go outside. This is unprecedented, as he naps when I nap. I told him how amused I was, and I stood there, waiting for His Highness to do his duty. As it turns out, dogs do not get embarrassed or agitated when you watch them go to the bathroom. No quid pro quo for me today.

Back in the house, dog safe and comfortable, I re-occupied the couch.

A short while later came a pounding on the door. No, the dog had not taken up pounding on the door with his water bowl.. it was yet another home improvement dude. This is the second one this week, which means they're infesting the neighborhood and we'll have to get one of those special exterminators out to help us. Fortunately it's a neighborhood problem, so everybody chips in. You know these clowns... they "happen to be working on a house in the neighborhood" and have "dropped by to see if you need anything done." Bless their pointy little heads. The altruism here is astounding - you just don't get this class of home improvement goodness in other sections of the city. 

I am a reasonably polite person - stop laughing NOW. Most people would simply slam the door in his face. I think that's kinda rude and Mom taught me better (even though it's rude to interrupt my nap, dinner, or anything else I'm doing, by knocking on my door). I politely tell him no thanks, but have a nice day. As it turns out, he's hip to this, probably because no one else will give him the time of day (or belly button lint). He keeps talking. I wish him a good day again, at which point he brings out the big guns: "Oh, so you're not planning to DO anything about your mess of a house?"

I could choose to be insulted. I could pitch a fit. I could throw my car at him. But I figured all of these would require putting more time (and heaven forbid, effort) into this project, so the best way would be to question the species of whatever gave birth to him, continue to wish him the most spectacular of days, and slam the door so hard he literally blows across the street, where he'll undoubtedly bang on their door. What he does next is sheer genius... he tells my neighbor they're doing work on MY house and would he like a quote. The neighbor has no choice but to order some work, because if the Problem House on the block (mine) is getting something done, others would be ashamed not to. Fortunately this is no longer my problem.

Back to the couch I go, laughing at the sheer hilarity of what has become a comedy sketch about someone trying to simply take a nap. 

And nap I did. For damn near fifteen minutes, when ANOTHER knock occurred. This is getting tiresome, I though to myself, while continuing to snicker. Praying it wasn't another chance to sign up for work on my house, I opened the door to find my wife standing there.  As anyone would imagine, regardless of whether they know her or not, my wife has house keys. To this actual house. Our house. The house with the really comfortable couch, upon which I was just napping. Judging by the plastic bag she was holding in her mouth, it appeared she'd need help. Let's face it... if I were overloaded, coming to my front door, I'd either have my keys in hand or drop something and get my keys. Perhaps being a woman comes with some sort of entitlement to have locked doors opened for you; I certainly don't know.

Deciding to keep all of my parts intact, I let her in and grabbed some bags. Strangely, I then went back to the couch, perhaps because I like pain and aggravation.

My wife, bless her, made sure to do everything she could to avoid annoying me, like talking for twenty minutes about her day, what she had for lunch, what her friends were wearing, what we were thinking about doing next week, and how about that earthquake in Delaware. Sometimes she misses subtle signs, like the way I had the blanket wrapped around my head while I was laying flat, with my back to her. She eventually stopped talking, perhaps when she sensed my breathing stop (a trick I learned in Swami School in India, back during the war).

Mindful of my damn near sleeping state, she did not talk. She did, however, hum. Lately she hums constantly. I would be judged not guilty if I murdered her for the never ending humming but I'm not like that. I wouldn't kill her, or even bludgeon her. Or run her over, or throw her from the roof. Mom raised me better.  When she hums, I politely ask her to stop. Sometimes she's so involved in humming, she doesn't hear me. So I try again, using more volume. Finally she looks at me quizzically, asks if she was humming, and apologizes. Then starts humming again.

So she's humming, being 'quiet' while I rest. Being quiet means not asking me questions (sometimes) and walking around without kicking anything (a difficult task regardless of my state). So she walks around stealthily. And when I say stealthily, I mean BOOM, PLOD, SQUONK, PLOD, PLOD. Hey, at least she's not humming, right? She quietly plods to the door, where we keep our high tech backup alarm system, which consists of a few REALLY LOUD industrial size jingle bells on a three foot strip of leather, around the doorknob. She completely avoids slamming into the bells by simply knocking them onto the solid floor with a humongous CRASH RING RING RING.  Good thing I was resting, or I'd be really pissed.

It is at points like this that I can only think of the words I'm going to type on the blog to share with you, because there's no live studio audience to watch people torture me while I try to nap.

One last time, I beg of the universe. I just want a nap.

The next thing I know, I'm hearing my parents' voices. This is not a normal thing for me, especially when I'm sleeping and they're not in my house. But the joke was on me - they were in my house, being quiet because I was napping. I didn't hear them knocking on the door.

HEY... if I didn't hear them knocking, it means I was ASLEEP for three or four seconds. I had technically NAPPED!

she asked what I want for Christmas.