DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> DC Viking

Friday, January 25, 2008

F.U.F.F.



















Bald guys named Curly, flight attendants afraid of flying, and rain on your wedding day. These are all examples of irony. To this list I add one more. I am the manager of an IT development project and I have a “Fucked Up Force Field.” My job is to build software. My hobby is to break technology.

My office- mate coined the acronym F.U.F.F. to describe my uncanny ability to destroy, through the sheer force of my physical proximity, numerous and varied types of electronic devices. In the past two years I have wrought the following damage upon computers entrusted to my care by my company and our clients:

- crashed operating system requiring a day of down time for re-installation by IT guy (2)

- corrupted hard drive, requiring replacement and data recovery (2)

- faulty power supply requiring replacement (1)

That’s just the stuff at work. In the same timeframe my home computer has had a power supply die and a primary heat sink fail. I didn’t know that a heat sink could break. It’s a big piece of copper alloy that conducts heat away from the more delicate parts of the computer. There shouldn’t be any moving part to stop working. But it did. It stopped. And as a result I was without home internet access for a whole week.

It’s not like I spend my days surfing virus laden porn sites. Well, not from my work computer anyway. I don’t have any strange modifications to my home computer. I don’t over-clock the processors. I don’t usually perform percussive maintenance if something small goes wrong. I just use my computer as any normal, moderately tech savvy person would and my aura kills it.

I’ve recorded this effect on non-computer devices as well. This week my iPod battery stopped holding a charge for more than 30 seconds, the display on my cell phone went black, and the fan in my home computer began to rattle ominously. Taken separately these events don’t indicate a mystical power emanating from my person, but I think that most people would agree that 10 confirmed F.U.F.F related events in less than 24 months constitutes a pattern.

Some people in my situation would renounce technology, move to a cabin in Wyoming, and live a life of seclusion where their powers would not devastate the technology our culture relies on. But not me. I’m a bad person. I’ve concluded that I’m a kind of technopath with the ability to obliterate electrical devices. So far, I’ve been unable to successfully control this ability, to make it bend to my will, but I’m convinced that with time and practice I can harness this ability to be a force for evil.

So, if you’d like to go ahead and place an early request for my services, please comment on this post. I’m sure that after I’ve had a successful test, my abilities will be in high demand. I’m available to destroy your boss’s hard drive, nuke the iPod of the annoying co-worker that doesn’t understand the concept of volume control, or to fry your big screen TV one week before your warranty expires, forcing Best Buy to provide you a shiny new one.

I’m also available for birthday parties.

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posted by DC Viking at 12:15 PM 3 people of discerning taste are saying

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Cats can sense evil


Yesterday, a friend of mine sent me a link of the cat-washer in action at some kind of pet product trade show.

It's not a new clip, but it reminded me of the funniest cat story I know. Don't worry, this isn't one of those shmaltzy, heart-warming pet stories. In fact, I'm pretty sure thinking that this story is funny makes me a bad person.

My girlfriend has a down comforter with a cover on it. This cover has an opening that is easy for a cat to get into, but difficult for it to relocate once inside. I liken it to a man falling through the ice and not being able to find the hole he punched.

One bright, summer day I came strolling into my girlfriend’s bedroom. There appeared to be a cat under the comforter on the bed. It was moving slowly back and forth under the covers, as if it were looking for something under the blanket (turned out to be the exit).

Now, this cat is utterly terrified of me. My girlfriend is in school 4 hours away, so I'm at her place about once a month. Whenever this cat sees me in the house, his eyes get really big and he makes a mad dash for his hiding spot, sliding all over the place on the hardwood floors and smashing into shit as he goes. Don't see him for the rest of my stay. It's good stuff.

ANYWAY, the scairdycat is under the covers. I make some comment to the cat, calling it a dumb animal or something of the like, and he realizes that his arch enemy is in the room with him. I'm in the room, and he's trapped in a giant shopping bag, only someone has tied one end closed. Realizing the danger he is in he starts moving back and forth faster and faster to try and find the exit. Naturally, this strikes me as funny. I begin to laugh. Now that cat knows he's in real trouble. Not only is he trapped, but judging by the laughter this trap has been set by me, his nemesis.

He panics. Forgetting that the bag he is trapped in is on a bed and not the floor, he accelerates clear off the edge of the bed. The comforter slides a foot or so as he leaps clear of the mattress before it pulls him swinging back into the side of the bed with a satisfying thump. At this point, I lose it. I'm officially cackling and the cat starts going bananas, swinging from the side of the bed in the comforter cover. This is when is occurs to me that cats have claws. There is a deranged cat out of its mind in terror swinging around in the brand new cover to my girlfriend’s comforter. Fuck. So I run (still laughing) to the side of the bed to try and push the cat up onto the mattress, so it will stop shredding the cover. As soon as I put my hands underneath the cat it shoots up the side of the bed, across the mattress, and flies off into space on the other side of the bed. This is followed shortly thereafter by another thump and more hysterics on my part.

The cat hears this laughter and utters this long, low, rolling meow. If you could take the saddest loon call you've ever heard, the sound a coyote howling at the moon on the loneliest of desert nights, and mix it with the noise Lassie would make if Timmy were trapped under a bus and couldn't get his mom to understand, you would be close to the sound this cat made as it dangled helplessly from the side of the bed. Loosely translated the meow said this. "So you have defeated me, my old enemy. My will is broken. From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more for ever." And he stopped moving. Completely gave up. Just sat there in a ball at the bottom of this partially shredded cover.

When my girlfriend finally came down the stairs to identify the sound of all the commotion, I was no longer laughing. I was lying on the ground about a foot from the motionless cat which was still hanging in the comforter. I was making that soundless, breathless non-noise that is all you can muster when something has completely shattered the comedy space-time continuum.

I'm not allowed to "play" with that cat anymore.

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posted by DC Viking at 2:28 PM 1 people of discerning taste are saying

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

I don't think that's David Letterman on the phone

I’m not one to spend my time scouring blogs and posting nasty comments about what somebody has taken the time to write down, and I happen to believe that there are major issues with our immigration policy that need to be addressed, but I ran across this post this evening and couldn’t in good conscience let it pass. This is an actual Top 10 list of the reasons illegal aliens are a threat to the American way of life that someone posted. I thought the blogger was joking until I got down to about reason number seven. My comments are in italics. Enjoy.

10. Proliferation of foreign flags being flown in US and in some cases
American flags being burned.

Um..huh? I didn’t realize that someone flying another flag was a threat to the U.S. We’ve managed to survive Pearl Harbor, a Civil War and American Idol. I don’t think someone with a Brazil sticker on their 83’ Civic is going to be the thing that finally topples the Republic. And most people entering the country illegally are here because America is nicer than their own country. I don’t see a lot of people getting totally pissed about the improvement in their way of life and torching the flag, but heating oil prices were pretty high last winter, so maybe there was an epidemic I missed.

09. Sacrificed goats and various other animals due to rituals being performed in Adams Morgan, etc.

There must be epidemic of goat slaughtering going on in the Morgan that I didn’t know about. That’s two epidemics I was unaware of. Maybe the immigrants needed something to cook over their pile of burning American flags. If you want to avoid this kind of barbarity while visiting Adams Morgan in the future my advice would be to skip Heaven and Hell on the weekend.

08. Ethnic fiedoms and enclaves being established in certain neighborhoods and speaking native languages and refusing to learn English.

I’m guessing that he meant to write fiefdom here. When insulting people for not knowing the language it’s a good idea to give spellcheck a quick click before hitting publish.


07. Identity theft mainly involving social security numbers.

Ok, this may be a problem, but I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that most identity theft is perpetrated with the goal of buying a lot of crap that you haven’t paid for. Wait a minute…how can illegals afford so many goats and flags? I’m ordering a credit report right now.

06. Demeaning the institution of marriage to obtain US citizenship fraudulantly.

Sorry. The gays are already doing this. You’re stealing talking points here. Unless you’re referring to gay immigrants you have to come up with a new reason number 6.

05. Degradation of what it means to be a patriotic American and earn citizenship legally.

Point well taken. All patriotic Americans must earn their citizenship legally. Except for those Americans that were born here after we stole the country from the Indians. They don’t have to be patriotic.

04. The ability of Mexico, Latin America and other countries to ignore their responsibility to improve their economies and way of life for their poor.

I happen to agree with this one. Crap. On the bright side, these countries are just following the example set by the U.S. with regards to our poor. Except for Latin America. That isn't a country.

03. Gang-related violence and the corresponding costs to jail felons.

Like we wouldn’t have this problem without immigration issues. I saw “Boyz in the Hood” twice man, I know what’s going on in Compton.

02. Costs associated with the healthcare, and social services. etc, required for the uninsured and unemployed.

Again with scapegoating of illegal immigrants for the way we’re screwing up our own country. Cause the immigrants are the reason we spend more money than any other country for middle of the pack health care. Project much?

01. Terrorism (remember Sept 11th).

Stealing talking points again here. Set aside the fact that the 9/11 report stated that the attackers snuck in through legal loopholes, everyone knows that Saddam is the one responsible. Doy.

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posted by DC Viking at 7:09 PM 4 people of discerning taste are saying

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

Zen, aquatics, and a fate worse than death

I love working out at the pool on Saturday. No work related stress to burn off. No need to feel rushed. It’s just me and the water, I jump in and everything disappears. External stimulus is reduced to the sound of my arms hitting the water and the occasional bubble going past my ear as I exhale. All I can see is the black line down the center of my lane. As I cross into the area of the pool under the skylight, the world is all blinding light and reflection. When I cross back into the shade it’s cool and calm. I perform a well executed flip turn and head back up the pool again, turn and come back, turn and return. After a while my brain starts to shut down non-essential functions. I stop counting the laps. I become a perfect swimming machine. There is no past. There is no goal. All my faculties are devoted to perfecting my movement through the water and unnecessary thought ends.

On the rare occasions that I reach this Nirvana-like state; when I’m not thinking about what I’m going to have for dinner or if I have work to finish, it can take me a moment to acclimate myself when I’m done swimming. So imagine my surprise and alarm as I finished my workout one Saturday morning to the sound ‘Achy Breaky Heart’. I stood panting at the end of the pool, confused, as the warble of Billy Ray Cyrus echoed weirdly around the swimming pool.

What’s happening? Where am I? Who am I? Have I crossed over? Oh God. I’m dead. And if 90s contemporary country is playing in the afterlife… I must be in Hell. Crap. I knew I shouldn’t have eaten my roommate’s last slice of pizza. That was the final straw and now I’m stuck listening to this for the rest of eternity. I’ll bet they’re going to play Brooks and Dunn next. I hate the ‘Boot Scootin’ Boogie’.

And then I glance very slowly to my right. There, in all their spandex glory, are 15 large aged women with buoyant foam tubes wrapped around their gargantuan waists. They are bobbing back and forth in the water, two lanes over from me. These monstrous women wave their arms back and forth to the beat of this satanic music. A slightly older, slightly slimmer, woman is pacing back and forth on the deck next to the pool, shouting directions at them. “Feel the burn! Work harder ladies!” OhdearGodinheavenIaminhell. It’s all I can do to stifle the screams bubbling up in my burning lungs. Oh no, the leader sees me. There are only two plastic lane dividers between me and the pack of “Whopper Demons”. Any minute now they are going to tear across the pool, beat me senseless with those foam tubes, and chew the tasty, exercised, flesh from my body while flames shoot from their eyes. NoooooOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Someone splashing the wall in the lane behind me snaps me out of it. Slowly, reality creeps back in. It’s only a water aerobics class. The music has changed to Lionel Ritchie. They’re not going to devour my delicious flesh. I’m not dead. These women are just doing as I am, getting some exercise. But they do it to Billy Ray Cyrus.

They exercise to ‘Achy Breaky Heart.’

And that’s when I realize that there are places worse than hell.

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posted by DC Viking at 10:07 AM 2 people of discerning taste are saying

Friday, November 18, 2005

40 points for Grandma


I don't drive in the city very often. It's usually unnecessary for me. Why would I go through the hassle of hopping in my car, fighting traffic, and then circling for 20 minutes trying to find a parking spot when I can just take the metro? I'm still new enough to the city that semi-reliable public transportation that does not have to involve a rickety city bus is still a happy novelty to me, and I’m lucky enough to work and live near a metro stop.

When I do drive, I'm sometimes mystified by the lack of regard the drivers in my neighborhood seem to have for the pedestrians that are about. Maybe it's because I live in DC Lite, and so many of the drivers are coming in from Maryland for a quick errand? Maybe trying to run over pedestrians is normal for DC drivers? Is there some competeition I'm not aware of that awards points based on number of pedestrians pegged, double for little kids and the elderly? I'm as swift a driver as the next guy that isn't Dale Earnhardt Jr., but I'm not going to mow down little Tommy on his was to private school either.

I only mention this phenomenon because today a very impatient man in a very large SUV was intent on testing the impact resistance of his grill, using pedestrian commuters as his test subjects. This morning I drove to work, and being the good hearted and magnanimous person that I am, agreed to drop my roommate at the metro on my way. After letting him off, I was making a left hand turn onto Wisconsin Ave. I had the green arrow, but the crosswalk was occupied by pedestrians. The SUV immediately to my rear showed his impatience by giving a little tap of the horn. I myself will use this tactic if someone has spaced out and isn't going through a light. Since I was well aware of the status of the turn signal, I pointed out my window to the pedestrians in the crosswalk, thinking this would explain the predicament we both faced. It did not. He gave me a good 2 second blast of his horn to which responded with the universal symbol of grace and composure, an extended middle finger.

Not smart, I know. Miss Viking has already lectured me on this. "Don't flip people off in traffic. Didn't you hear about the guy whose dog was pulled from his car when he did that?!?" I hadn’t, I have no idea what that means, but rest assured I have already had my senselessness pointed out to me.

The walkway clears. I pull through the intersection and stop at the next red light. The man in the SUV is so incensed that he barely misses rear-ending me as he barrels up to the light. At this point I consider that the single finger salute may not have been the brightest idea. So I attempt to explain myself further, to make clear to my new friend that I didn't stop at the red light in an attempt to cause an accident and also that I am apologetic for our recent misunderstanding. I point out my window towards the red light. This does not clarify the situation. He backs his car off my tailpipe, and pulls into the lane next to me, hurling epithets at me through two layers of glass. In an attempt to make myself look like a childish idiot in addition to a sarcastic bastard, I mimic pedestrians walking with one hand while pointing to the crosswalk behind me with the other.

At this point his window goes down. Obligingly, I roll mine down. From his point of view I am apparently a, "Bitch-Motherfucker" and, "I had the turn arrow". When I explain that there were people in the crosswalk he informs me that, "They had a Don't Walk sign!" After enlightening me on the finer points of the rules of the road, he pulls away leaving me to ponder how many points I missed out on by not smashing headlong into the crosswalk.

It had to be at least 250. I’m pretty sure I saw a guy with a seeing-eye dog.

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posted by DC Viking at 3:59 PM 4 people of discerning taste are saying