Monday, June 30, 2003
Camera phone? What's that?
From news.bbc.co.uk:
Japanese bookstores are set to launch a national campaign to stop so-called "digital shoplifting" by customers using the lastest camera-equipped mobile phones. The Japanese Magazine Publishers Association says the practice is "information theft" and it wants it stopped.
It is the kind of thing that most Japanese young women wouldn't think twice about doing.
They might spot a new hairstyle or a new dress in a glossy fashion magazine and they want to know what their friends think - so they take a quick snap with their mobile phone camera and send everybody a picture.
But the publishers of those magazines feel they are being cheated out of valuable sales.
Together with Japan's phone companies, they are issuing stern posters which warn shoppers to be careful of their "magazine manners."
People in Japan use their mobile phones to do much more than talk.
When international footballer David Beckam arrived recently at Tokyo's Narita airport, his thousands of screaming fans captured the moment with their mobile phones.
And only this weekend, newspaper ads warned phone users to avoid walking and writing emails at the same time.
But the success of this new campaign is open to question.
Japan's bookshop owners have already said their staff cannot tell the difference between customers taking pictures and those simply chatting on their phones.
Current mood: Retro
Posted by Lynniechan @ 09:51 PM EST [Link]
And another amusing "remember the '80s" list
I especially like No. 37, since I loved that show for that very reason.
Current mood: Scatterbrained
Posted by Lynniechan @ 06:41 PM EST [Link]
Thursday, June 26, 2003
Another fortune cookie
From http://www.kabalarians.com/index.cfm:
Your first name has given you energy, drive, and ambition, but also an almost excessively strong-willed and independent nature. While you are creative, inventive, and ingenious in practical matters, and always ready to initiate and promote new undertakings, you often experience difficulty in bringing your undertakings to a successful conclusion because of your own changing interests or changing circumstances. You become intensely involved with everything you plan to do, but the stress arising from frustrating obstacles or misunderstandings with others could prompt you to be intolerant and sarcastic in your expression, with breakdowns in congenial relations with family and friends a possible end result. Any emotional outbursts or moods would register as tension in your solar plexus, resulting in nervous indigestion and related problems. Tension could also centre in the head affecting the eyes, ears, sinuses, or teeth. True relaxation and peace of mind are elusive under this name.
Current mood: Full
Posted by Lynniechan @ 05:53 PM EST [Link]
Another stupid quiz
You are Strength. You exhibit not only physical
strength, but internal as well. You are not
flashy, your strength is quiet and reserved.
You will persevere through courage, resolve and
composure. You are Strength, you will lead
others through their darkest hours.
Which Tarot Card are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Figures. I can lead others through their darkest hours but I can't lead myself through them.
Current mood: Quizzical
Posted by Lynniechan @ 03:45 PM EST [Link]
We are zee robots
A DJ friend of mine told me that a young clubber recently came up to my friend and told him how he loved a new band called Kraftwerk. Either I'm really really out of touch with the Kids These Days or that clubber is a complete moron.
The Smart One
Ah, there is a light at the end of your tunnel. And
its not a train coming the other way. You are
an open-minded individual who knows what they
like. Or you could be lying. Either way, you
are a blessed one. I bid ye well.
Recommended Listening: pick up some Leadbelly,
Rolling Stones 'Aftermath' and 'Between The
Buttons', anything by Bright Eyes, the new
Blackalicious album and perhaps even the first
Joy Division album.
Which Character In High Fidelity Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Current mood: Disgusted
Posted by Lynniechan @ 03:40 PM EST [Link]
All hail President Rumsfeld
http://news.independent.co.uk/uk/media/story.jsp?story=418401
Current mood: Outraged
Posted by Lynniechan @ 12:51 AM EST [Link]
Wednesday, June 25, 2003
Welcome to 1955, students
http://www.liberty.edu/StudentAffairs/DeanOfWomen/index.cfm?PID=2974
Current mood: Studious
Posted by Lynniechan @ 12:45 AM EST [Link]
Tuesday, June 24, 2003
While I'm thinking about it...
Thinking back on my Friday night neirdness, I remember a similar incident in college, though in this one, I was the one with the beach ball.
I was at my boyfriend's, reclining on the love seat in the living room. His roommate was lying on the couch, propped up on his left arm and somewhat facing me. His roommate, who often hung out with us, was a very deliberate, mellow person. He never seemed to get excited or worked up about anything (though there was never a question of what kind of mood he was in).
I had been fussing with a large rubber band, and just to tease him, I shot it at him, hitting him on the head.
Out of nowhere, he leaped up, grabbed a bottle of shampoo that had been sitting on the coffee table in front of him and darted toward me. Darted isn't even accurate enough to describe it. I'd never seen him move so fast. He raised the shampoo bottle above his head and threatened to hit me with it. I instinctively covered my head. He stood there for a moment with the bottle raised, then backed off. He put the bottle back down on the table and sat back down on the couch, with no explanation, apology or comment.
I sat there in silence, shocked, for a few more minutes before I left the room. I don't think he would have really hit me. But I'm not sure why being shot by a rubber band prompted such an extreme reaction.
I don't think there's a point to this story, other than I thought of it while reading the previous post.
Current mood: Pensive
P.S.: While I'm thinking about other posts, it also occurred to me re: the post about the e-mail from my aunt that if my aunt -- who has a graduate degree and is very intelligent -- had remembered that my mother is a legal alien, she'd have thought twice about sending me that. There was a long list of recipients, so I'm sure she just forwarded it to a "friends and relatives" distribution list. But she should get to know who's on that list a little better.
Posted by Lynniechan @ 01:19 AM EST [Link]
Monday, June 23, 2003
Freaky Friday
Friday night was a weird night. I had gotten stoopid after having four Hornsby's and a Mike's Lemonade at a party. It didn't hit me how shitfaced I was until I got in the car, leaned the seat back and nearly passed out.
This was after I freaked out at a co-worker in attendance with whom I had been trading one-liners and tossing an inflatable beach ball back and forth all night.
He had hopped into the pool, and I was sitting in a chair near the deep end that faced away from the pool and toward a group of people around a patio table. He occasionally would throw the ball at me to get my attention. I'd throw it back, trying to bop him on the head. Eventually, he grabbed the ball, held it and said, "Truce," and I took that to mean "game over." I turned away from him and looked for something else to amuse me.
A few seconds later, he hauled back and threw the ball really hard. It hit me on my left cheek and bounced across the patio table.
It didn't hurt, but I got really pissed really quickly. I stood up, grabbed the ball and heaved it as hard as I could at him. I missed, of course, then I grabbed my towel, balled it up and threw that at him as hard as I could. I missed again. He started to yell, "Truce!" repeatedly.
The towel started to sink.
Engraged, I said, deadpanned, "You want a fucking truce? Then get my fucking towel." I sternly pointed at the white towel, which was sitting at the bottom of the deep end.
"I'm fucking serious. I mean it. Get my fucking towel."
"Dude, I'm sorry. I'm gonna drown," he joked.
"I'M SERIOUS. GET MY FUCKING TOWEL."
"I can't hold my breath that long..."
That went back and forth for what felt like five minutes to me but probably was more like 20 seconds.
"GET THE FUCKING TOWEL."
At this point, I was aware that several people behind me were watching with discomfort.
"GET IT."
He dived down to retrieve it, handed it to me and got out of the pool from the shallow end.
The BF and I left right after.
That was a weird experience for me. I wasn't in control of what I was saying or doing. Obviously, it was the alcohol, but I don't ever recall snapping like that, ever. When I get mad, I get quiet and withdraw -- then I try to pretend it never happened, lock it up somewhere inside me and throw away the key, to my friends and loved ones' frustration. I never yell at anyone for any reason, not even during an argument, even though I might want to. I recoil at confrontation.
The co-worker sent me an e-mail today apologizing for the incident, and I responded in kind. I didn't hear from him after that. I was more surprised I was worth his trouble to apologize to. I'm embarrassed I acted a fool and wish I hadn't done that. Oy. That'll teach me to be more careful about how much I drink from now on.
Current mood: Depressed
Posted by Lynniechan @ 05:21 AM EST [Link]
Hate mail
I occasionally receive e-mail from friends and relatives that offends me. I'm not easily offended, but I think I'm disturbed that they think either the e-mail is funny or that I'm as conservative as they are. Judging from some of the forwarded messages, prayers and affirmations I receive, I seem to have more conservative friends and relatives than I thought.
Usually I just bite my lip, groan and hit delete. It's not worth the headache to get in a pissing match over an occasional forwarded joke. But one I recently received from my aunt got me so angry I nearly fired back a nasty message telling her how offended I was and to ask that she remove me from her distribution list. I won't repeat the entire poem, but here is a snippet:
Welfare checks,
they make you wealthy,
Medicaid it keep
you healthy!
By and by,
I got plenty money,
Thanks to you,
American dummy.
Write to friends
in motherland,
Tell them 'come
fast as you can.'
They come in turbans
and Ford trucks,
I buy big house
with welfare bucks.
It went on and on about foreigners "owning the neighborhood." It ended with "SEND THIS TO EVERY AMERICAN TAXPAYER YOU KNOW."
I'm surprised to find she feels this way and saddened she thinks this is amusing.
She's my favorite aunt; I love her dearly. But this one was incredibly hateful. I hope not all my relatives think like this, but I fear they do.
Current mood: Depressed
Posted by Lynniechan @ 04:11 AM EST [Link]
Wednesday, June 18, 2003
Seems like an oxymoron
"Small SUV."
Current mood: Starving
Posted by Lynniechan @ 12:17 AM EST [Link]
Tuesday, June 17, 2003
Favorite word of the day
Draconian.
Current mood: Hungry
Posted by Lynniechan @ 06:34 PM EST [Link]
Poor widdle puppies
Does every male bulldog owner have to name it Winston?
Current mood: Annoyed
Posted by Lynniechan @ 12:21 AM EST [Link]
Monday, June 16, 2003
Ow
Note to self (one in an ongoing series): If you have a cold sore, do not take vinaigrette dressing on your salad.
Current mood: Content
Posted by Lynniechan @ 08:15 PM EST [Link]
Saturday, June 14, 2003
Case closed?
I decided to venture into the scorching afternoon heat several days ago, knock on a few neighbors' doors and see if I could find Big Boy's owner. I secretly hoped he had been abandoned, because a couple of days earlier, we broke down and fed him and treated his flea problem. We were getting a bit used to having him greet us every afternoon with his pathetic whiny meow and foot kneading. He was in horrible shape: his hair was dirty and mangled, his sides were thin and he seemed lethargic. His sorry condition angered me. I wondered what I would say to the person who actually claimed him.
And wouldn't you know it? The person who answered the door at the very first house I stopped at -- our next-door neighbor to the right -- claimed him. He was a young man, probably in his late 20s, and seemed a bit irked that I disturbed him. I didn't blame him -- I don't like being approached by strangers coming to my front door, either. He wore a wifebeater, had a No. 1 haircut all the way around and knee-length denim shorts. Very Eminem wanna-be. "Um, excuse me," I said. "Um, I live in the house next door to you that way," gesturing over his shoulder. "I was wondering if you knew anything about the gray and white cat that hangs out around here with the missing bottom lip."
"Yeah, that's my cat. Is something wrong?"
"Oh no, I'd, um, just seen him walking around a lot lately, more than usual, and I wondered..."
"Is he bothering you?"
"No, no." I stumbled, trying to hold back from telling him how horrible of a pet owner he is. "I was just checking."
"Oh, OK." He brusquely introduced himself right then, but it went in one ear and out the other, as it always does when I meet someone I don't care much for.
"Thanks."
Somehow, this doesn't seem over. I'm more upset now than I was when I previously thought Big Boy had been abandoned.
Current mood: Discontented
Posted by Lynniechan @ 01:10 AM EST [Link]
Saturday, June 7, 2003
Gym rats
I finally got a chance to work out with a work buddy, PL, the other day at his gym. He'd been telling me for months about a WWE wrestler named "Bubba Ray" who works out there and he sees all the time. PL and I had frequently joked about going there together and basking in D-list celebritydom: "Maybe we'll both reach for the same weights," or "Maybe in 2005 we'll actually say hi." In real life, Bubba had been having back trouble and was on and off TV. PL saw Bubba at the gym more frequently when he was off TV, so he thought now was a good time to go.
So he acquired a guest pass for me and took me there earlier this week.
Bubba was there when PL took me, lifting free weights alone amid a few other young guys. I stared at Bubba for maybe 10 seconds before I was completely distracted by how nice the gym was. I felt like I was in some celebrity gym you'd find in Hollywood. It's quite possible that other, bigger celebs work out there. It's in a tony area of town, and of the gyms I've been to, it's second only to the RDV Sportsplex in poshness.
PL walked me past the free weights and Bubba, and I tried not to stare. Bubba was wearing a gray, long-sleeved T-shirt and shorts. The WWE's Web site lists him at 6-4, 275, but I'd say he's more like 6-2, 275. PL and I made more cracks about his wrasslin gimmick, which includes having a "half-brother" as a tag-team partner: "Where's D-Von?"
PL took me to a glass-walled room where the aerobics and kickboxing classes are held. It was a huge, vacuous room with a parquet floor and numerous TVs all loudly playing MTV2 mounted into the wall. Looking up, I saw 16 punching bags hanging by cables near the high ceiling. A huge shelf, which held colorful, girlie hand weights, blue floor mats and red, 3-foot-wide exercise balls, reached to the ceiling. In the opposite corner of the room was a PVC container full of more exercise balls. I felt like I was in first-grade romper room. Everything was so huge and colorful. We both grabbed a mat and ball and started doing ab crunches. It was hard to concentrate because I was so engrossed in my surroundings.
I'm so easily amused and distracted.
Meanwhile, Bubba had gone upstairs to work on cardio. After our ab workout, PL said, "Lemme show you around," which meant, "Let's go see what Bubba's up to," and we headed upstairs.
Bubba was bouncing up and down on an elliptical machine right at the top of the stairs, and his back was to us. We watched him as he rocked to a CD, and we snickered some more about how an "athlete" who works out as much as he does can be so big.
The second floor was as posh as the first, but smaller and quieter. There were about 8 to 10 elliptical machines, several treadmills and a couple of Stairmasters all in a line to the left and right of Bubba. A room to the left of the stairs had strange machines with cables that apparently were used during Pilates classes. Another room to the right had about 20-25 bikes for spinning classes.
We went back downstairs to the weights to finish our workout.
It was hard for me to decide what I wanted to do, mainly because I'd never seen much of this equipment before. It was clearly top of the line, and some of it was quite complicated. PL had to demonstrate several machines to me. My gym is cheap -- $55 for both me and the BF -- but it also is very small and has a minimum number of uncomplicated weights and machines. For this day, I decided to concentrate on legs and shoulders.
Toward the end of our workout, I was on a shoulder machine that faced the gym's front counter. Bubba eventually came downstairs with a towel around his neck and chatted with the front desk help. They seemed to know he was a somebody, because the trainers who had been previously killing time milling about wandered by to talk to him. About 10 minutes of chatting later, Bubba walked out.
We finished up our workout soon after and left. My legs are still sore several days later, not from overexertion but because the strange machines forced me to use different muscles. I'm still amazed by that gym. It makes me wonder whether spending more money on a gym like that would help bring back the enthusiasm I've lost lately for working out. I need to change my scenery every so often just to keep from getting bored. And the BF and I have been talking about taking a yoga class, and I wonder if this would be a good place to start. I have a couple more visits left on the guest pass. I'd like to take the BF next time just so he can see the swanky gym (and maybe we'll run into a B-lister or two).
Current mood: Exhausted
Posted by Lynniechan @ 03:49 AM EST [Link]
Wish I were there
The best race ever: http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport2/hi/other_sports/boat_race_2003/default.stm
Current mood: Inspired
Posted by Lynniechan @ 03:19 AM EST [Link]
Yet another rowing post
Can one eventually reach the limit of a skill or ability, a point at which he or she has peaked and will no longer improve? I’m starting to think that there is such a point, though I like not to believe it.
Members of my crew, the "B" boat, have levels of optimism I've never had. I envy it. But sometimes it makes me wonder at what point optimism turns into false hope.
We have good practices and bad. Sometimes we get our butts kicked by the "A" boat. Often, we lose but put up a good fight. Every once in awhile, we catch lightning in a bottle and actually win a practice race across the lake.
But for years -- especially after the bad practices -- we've told ourselves we'll one day beat the A boat in a real race, cleanly (our boat beat them once, two years ago, but it was because of terrible steering on the part of their rookie, fill-in cox, not because they weren't the faster crew). Just stay with it. Just work on this. Clean up that. Get longer. No lunging. Swing together.
Stay positive.
Over and over. Every practice. Every boat meeting.
I'm ready to chuck that optimism out the window. I'm fed up and tired of hearing it.
We've gotten faster, yes, and our lineup has changed somewhat, but we essentially still have the same problems we had two years ago. We've mixed the lineup ad infinitum, moved people to different seats. And some rowers have tried switching sides. It has all been fruitless. We still lose to the A boat nearly every race, by nearly the same amount.
I'm reminded of a part-time clerk who used to work at my office. Early in his tenure, it was pointed out to him that the words SAN FRANCISCO do not fit on one line; please abbreviate it to SAN FRAN in the listing, thank you. When it was innocently forgotten the first time, someone reminded him that the words SAN FRANCISCO do not fit on one line; please abbreviate it to SAN FRAN in the listing, thanks. It would be innocently forgotten. And the clerk would be reminded. Again. And again, to be repeated every time he was responsible for that listing for two years until he moved on to greener pastures (after graduating from college, astonishingly enough). It became clear to everyone in the office that after three months, he had reached a skill level he was not going to exceed. He was not a malicious person and did not intentionally forget, but it was a task that he was just not going to grasp no matter how many years he spent doing it.
So has my crew reached a maximum skill level? Are we just as good as we're meant to be?
A week from today, we will be racing in a regatta. Both the A and B boats are entered in the same race. My crew insists day in and day out that we will win this one. What?!?!? We haven't beaten the A boat in practice in two months. In addition, one of our better rowers had to pull out of the race due to injury, and her replacement isn't as strong or as tall as she.
I'm tired of the optimism. I hate chipper.
Current mood: Cranky
Posted by Lynniechan @ 02:27 AM EST [Link]
Monday, June 2, 2003
Zzzzzzzzzzz
I have been completely lazy and uninspired lately. Nothing seems to excite me or make me feel strongly one way or the other. I also have had no desire to go to the gym. I actually lie in bed several days ago thinking I didn't care whether I was obese. I didn't want to worry about what I ate. I could just let myself get fat again and then hire a trainer for a third time and relose all the weight I have lost since 2000.
But I know that once you stop working out, it's that much harder to start up again. So I'm trying to suck it up and maybe it'll pass.
I also hurt my lower back at the gym this past Friday. I hadn't even started lifting weights yet. I had stooped over to adjust a machine, and bam, I couldn't stand back up. It's frustrating how once you have a bad back, you always have a bad back. It can give out doing the most unassuming, non-threatening things. The injury has given me a semi-valid excuse why I shouldn't step foot in the gym, which I'm milking for all its worth.
<aside>
I've always had a weak lower back, but an incident during a rowing practice in college -- it must have been 1991 -- did it in for good. The boats, which are quite heavy and require all of 7 or 8 women to lift, had to be carried about 30 feet from the boathouse to the water. I had -- er, have -- a bad habit of trying to lift as much of it as I possibly can, basically trying too hard, instead of relaxing and letting others shoulder some of the burden so to speak. I'm sure I must have used nothing but my back that particular morning to lift the boat off its rack, because I literally felt it pop. My back was tight all during practice, but it was the next morning when it was at its worst. I cried in pain. I couldn't bend, much less row, for two weeks.
In the meantime, the coach asked me if I would cox a few practices. I vividly remember during those two weeks having to wedge my fat ass into a seat in which a 110-pound girl normally sat. It was excrutiating. Not only did my hips chafe the sides of the shell with every stroke, I had to sit with my knees in my chest for two hours. I swear it was worse than having to row.
On top of the physical pain, coxing is a job best suited to extroverts. It requires shouting, calling out rowers who aren't in line and being mentally sharp and aggressive. I am none of those things. I think I mostly skulked in silence during those practices. I'm sure the other rowers appreciated that. I wasn't reprimanded for any of my coxing, but I was never again asked to cox, either.
</aside>
Still awake?
After dosing up on ibuprofen, I rowed on Sunday, but I'm sure I shouldn't have. My technique was terrible as I struggled to keep my back straight up and down. I slept on a heating pad last night, which felt great. My back has slowly gotten better since Friday, so I'm going to try to row again in the morning.
Current mood: Numb
Posted by Lynniechan @ 10:59 PM EST [Link]