Staffman Claims Victory in Strike, Prize Claw Machine

Ha haaa... the strike is over, victory is mine. I am now free to make a post to the blog.

Prologue:

I'm not sure how many of you are aware of the insidious force attempting to impose its will upon each and every one of us. I can't say how many others are attempting to fight this scourge, or the lengths to which I will go to finish the war my father started nearly two decades ago, but I can tell you this: I hate carnies. (for a complete definition of "carnie" please see www.urbandictionary.com). As my father before me, I have sworn to beat the carnies at their own games... literally. We build them, practice, and destroy them (which consists mostly of winning ridiculously large stuffed animals on the first try). To do justice to this legacy would take two or three blogs, or one really long one, none of which I'm willing to do right now.

And now to the blog:

So, because they are tangentially related to the aforementioned vendetta, I have begun to polish up on Prize Awarding Games (something my father did in his youth to hone his skill). Currently I am a level 14 Claw Machine Master, although I do have a ways to go.

The Claw Machine, as you all know, is a machine that presents stuffed animals, jewelry, watches, and or trinkets in a glass cage. At the top of the cage is a three pronged claw that can be maneuvered to pick up these items. Easy as pie, right? Au contraire (notice the actual French spelling... thanks Sidney High). In fact, the only thing that keeps the claw closed is gravity pulling downward on the three very light claws. Deciding that this was not evil enough, the syndicate that produces and or stocks these machines make sure to pack the items down, in the case of stuffed animals amongst each other, in the case of jewelry and such, into sand or pebbles. This helps to anchor the items and aids the carnie cartel in stealing the average user's fifty cents. I, ladies and gentlemen, am not your average user.

Last week I was successfully able to liberate a men's watch, a women's watch (from the mary kate and ashley collection) as well as what can only be described as a tin-covered, faux-silver finished, lead chain of some sort. How much did I spend you ask? Ahh, it is good to see that you learn so quickly and you realize that it is not ultimately winning the prize that wins the battle, but winning the prize cheaply.

3 dollars, ladies and gentlemen... I, your humble servant, a mere foot soldier in the Carnie Conflict was able to attain these three items for a meager 3 bucks. Had I done it for 2.50, I would have attained level 15.

Blogstrike

This is to announce an official strike of my blog.

Update

Although I still am happier than I was regarding my computer, I do have one problem. Whereas before I was getting 30 pop-ups (mostly for casinos), now I only get 1 or 2... but they're all for porn. Animated porn, adult "friend" finding services, etc.

I'm not sure which is worse, being unable to use my computer, or showing off "completely uncensored adult cartoons" randomly...

Girls Want Guys With Skills

"I don't have any skills... nunchuck skills, bow-hunting skills, computer hacking skills."

I consider myself relatively adept at lots of stuff, computer software operation one of them. I mean, I'm not Steve Jobs, but I can figure out how to email attachments and run games made for Windows 3.11 on an XP machine. However, yesterday, I learned that my knowledge has been outstripped by people who program pop-up advertisements.

I'm trying to fill out my bar application, which would seem easy enough, except that Virginia has an electronic form wizard. Every ten seconds I get about 30 pop up messages which makes it virtually impossible to correctly inform Virginia about my speeding tickets, that time I mooned the Queen, my meth operations, and other such character flaws. I'm in the middle of cursing the names "Microsoft," "Compaq," "Online Casino," and "Free Nude Adult Cartoon" when I remember an email from the IT staff here at Vanderbilt offering to help with just such an occasion. Oh sweet salvation.

First, it's important to note that the IT staff has two office hours all day long, one in the morning and one in the late afternoon. Luckily, I fell squarely into the morning session so I made my way up to the third floor of the library.

For those of you who haven't dealt with the IT guys yet, they are a strange breed. They live in a very dark room with several television sets (all but one tuned to ESPN) and mysterious electronics piled everywhere. Outside their door is a doorbell that must be rung in order to get their attention. When this happens, the creatures inside turn their attention from Sports Center to the sole television that isn't on ESPN which happens to display the person who rang the doorbell. (I'd like to stop at this point just so you know that this is not an exageration... These guys have more security than David Duke at a rap concert. You'd think they housed nuclear secrets in that room.)

So, because I happened to be there between the magical hours of 8:30 and 9:30, I was granted entrance to the Tech Cave. I step in and am immediately ignored. After a few minutes, when the IT guys realize that their office decor won't scare me away one of them asks "what's up?" Now, in an attempt at fairness, this IT guy was a nice guy and I'm sure he had nothing to do with the Draconian nature of their policies.

Anyway, I drop off my computer, he says it'll take a couple of minutes. I arrive back in a couple of minutes, ring the door bell, gain entrance (probably through some top secret government researched facial recognition software) and am informed that it'll take an hour. Having already experienced the IT department's conception of time, I tell them I'll pick it up at 3.

2:30 roles around and I head back up to the IT department. When I get in I see the same guy working steadily on my computer. Now, I don't know if he happened to glance at the screen, see me coming and pulled a "look busy for the infidels," but he had me fooled. I felt sorry for the poor guy who was forced to deal with my computer's lack of lack of self restraint. (Apparently, my computer hung out with a bad crowd out there in cyberspace... I hate when a good computer goes bad).

At this point, I'm like "guy, break out the duct tape, it's only gotta last 3 weeks." I didn't care if it blows up on May 14, juice it up, give it the steroids, make it able to finish the season. At that point the Tech said "well, I got all of them but one, it should be ok to deal with." Cool.

Anyway, after something near 5 hours of working, my computer is down to a bearable amount of advertisements for uncensored adult anime and new offers. As of yet, I have been very happy with their work. So much so, I don't really begrudge those guys their ESPN.

Independence Airlines or Why Does Dennis Miller Always Ruin a Good Thing?

So, I visited my parents this last weekend, which was cool. When visiting my parents I generally don't have to shave or bathe or care for myself in any real manner which is always very nice. However, this post is not about my lack of personal hygiene... rather, it's about Independence Airlines.

I flew Independence for the first time this trip and was very, very pleased. Not only does the beverage service include a full can of soda, orange juice, etc., but you also get two legitimate snacks (either a funsize bag of chips, cookies, or even a Nutri-Grain bar... I recommend Strawberry) and they even offer a hot towel service (although it is much more accurately described as a luke-warm wetnap service.).

In fact, I only have one complaint. The safety instructions were recorded by Dennis Miller. Well, that's not entirely true... In a true attempt to bring your destination to you, the recording changes based on where you are going. Dennis Miller was for going to Washington. Some bumpkin whom I didn't recognize was used for going back to Nashville, and coincidentily, liked much better than Dennis Miller.

I don't remember when Dennis Miller was funny, mostly because I'm pretty he was never funny... not even on SNL's weekend update. However, whatever talent he may have had is entirely gone. He lead off with an observational joke about why the first thing they tell you when you get on a plane is how to get off in an emergency. Not only was it unfunny it proved my theory that Dennis Miller has a reckless disregard for human life. Second, Dennis apologized for not having rehearsed with the flight attendant prior to the show... (pause for laughter)... Right. I didn't laugh either. Finally, Dennis ended his presentation with a shameless plug for Independence in which he thanked them for being an airline that cared and attempted to make things more efficient. I was always pretty sure that Dennis Miller had sold his soul... now I'm pretty sure he didn't get much for it.

Furniture Update

I've been having a terrible time with the blogger.com main page... It doesn't like to let me post.

I made it to Rooms to Go yesterday and found some furniture that will work very well... The name that Rooms to Go has given this furniture is "Walden." While I appreciate any reference to Thoreau, I'm pretty sure that he would have paid an immigrant to dismantle their furniture and then would have re-assembled the furniture a short time later.

Furnication

I know it's a bad pun. It may be the worst one I've ever made. I was trying to combine "furniture" and "fornication" in a deft move to copy the Red Hot Chili Peppers. In the same way there's no way I could pull off playing bass nude, I was unable to pull off this pun. On the upside, I'm pretty sure that being bad with puns makes me a better person.

As the 3 people who read this know, I'm about to move to what is referred to only as "the District" by Washington insiders. In this move I am forced to buy new furniture or sleep, eat, and perform all other domestic activities on the floor. I'm pretty sure the equation the following law governs my situation:

No Furniture = No Co-ed Domestic Activities

As a result, I am now in a soul crushing dilemma. I am forced to decide whether I am the type of guy who buys terrible, cheap-chic, trendy Ikea furniture or, in the alternative, the effeminate, just-a-hair-shy-of-cool, pre-packaged lifestyle furniture from Rooms to Go. Currently, Rooms to Go is winning based entirely on finance options and laziness.

Loyal readers, you may wonder why I don’t just keep my old furniture? Why waste time and money on stuff you won’t see 14 hours a day? Well, the truth is that I have some pretty bad furniture as it is. I’m pretty sure the following law governs my current situation:

Current Furniture = Co-Ed Domestic Activities Only With Blind and / or Masochistic Individuals

Mostly I’m tired of spending my leisure hours on a futon. I hate futons. At no point in my life have I ever said “Wow, I need a piece of furniture that is designed to be both a sofa and a bed, but is entirely incapable of performing either function.” I’ve never had a woman walk into my apartment, give me a “come hither” stare and say “nice futon.” I don’t know if that combination of events has or will ever occur. Maybe in a Berkley dorm-room.

I’ll keep you posted on the furniture hunt.

Tin Cup

Recently I got to play golf again. I'm really starting to think that the best part of my game is the tan I get from my short walks between swings. The good news is that if you count my strokes, I'm actually playing 3 games of golf for the price of one.

That being said, the last time I hit the lynx (and I mean that literally... I was digging holes in the fairway that would make the Tennessee Department of Transportation proud) I managed to make a few pretty good shots. One of those shots was about a 30 foot put from off of the green. It's because of those shots (and the ability to drive the golf carts like we stole them) that I keep going back.

Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking "Staffman, how can you sink a 30 foot putt and still be so bad..." Well, I'll tell you. The answer is mini-golf and lots of it. The Staffman family has a long and proud tradition of fierce mini-golf competition. More than once power struggles within the family were decided by who could best bank the ball off of the wall, through a cave, under a windmill, into a clown's mouth... etc. Occassionally, this mini-golf experience translates into a pretty good putt.

Sometime soon I'm supposed to play a very nice local course that I would not be able to afford if Spike's wife hadn't won two free V.I.P. rounds from a radio station. I don't know what a V.I.P. round is. What I do know is that if you take the greens fee at this course (or any other for that matter) and then deduct from that the amount required to fix the damage done to the course after I "play" a round, I come out way, way, way ahead.

Leave the Driving to Nuts

So, I had my first Greyhound experience. It was interesting. One girl, whom I will refer to as The Prophet, constantly espoused conspiracy theories. This led myself and the entire bus to a series of epiphanies. Her favorite saying was “knowledge is power.” Here are a few of the epiphanies I was able to glean:

1. The Loch Ness monster is real. Moreover, he and Godzilla are the same being because, as The Prophet pointed out “Japan and China are where all those sightings come from.” Knowledge is power.

2. Mermaids are real and they are unattractive. Apparently, The Prophet had got her hands on a book published by Time/Life called “Creatures” or something similar. This book contains pictures of real mermaids and they are ugly. In the same category, giants used to exist… leading us to 3. Knowledge is power.

3. Fairy tales are legitimate, gory, and because they are based on fact, they are unsuitable for children. The government couches them as fantasy so that our children will not believe that any creatures or events in the fairy tale existed. Knowledge is power.

4. UFO’s or “unidentifiable flying objects” are poorly named because they are, in fact, identifiable. Moreover, the government knows about them and has been covering them up. Apparently there was a weather balloon found in the desert which was intended to explain away these so-called UFO’s. The Prophet is on to the government, however, because she knows for a fact that the weather balloon was “not old enough to explain away the sightings.” Knowledge is power.

5. Joe Rogan (from NBC’s Fear Factor) is a demon. In the Biblical sense. According to The Prophet, anyone who eats the things Joe Rogan requests without necessity is performing a demonic act in defiance of God. Knowledge is power.

There are more, but if I keep typing, blood will shoot out of my nose.

On the Road

The hotel has wireless... This is good because it allowed me to take my sports law quiz. It's also bad because it froze up and locked me out of the quiz. I'm working on seeing what's up with that.

The bus ride up was fun. 9 hours on a charter bus watching movies with no sound. There was a keg (although I refused to get ridiculous... drunkenness at 65 miles an hour on a 10 ton bus is not my thing) and a spades tournament which is not finished and which I am still in.

Today we had softball practice. Like a man with the athletic ability of someone twice my age I strained my back. I'm in the sort of pain that should be reserved for elderly gardeners. I don't think it's that I'm that out of shape, but I also don't think Petey Pablo is a bad rapper. So you should take it for what it's worth. On top of that only one of the teams we brought has enough members to play. Luckily my team gets to play.

My interest in blogging is waining. There may be more later, but I'm not sure I'll keep this up.