There is a category on my blog called “beverages”, so here’s me using it

I don’t think I can drink Dr Pepper anymore.

Not since realizing that it tastes like baby powder smells.

I wasn’t sure if it always tasted this way and I never noticed before, or if they changed something at some point.

But I did some research and determined that I ruined it for myself by paying too much attention. Somebody else figured it out in 2005.

Either way, I’m a bit sad about this, and I have been sad since February 15th.

Goodbye Dr Pepper, but you are too much like drinking liquefied Powder Fresh deodorant.

My score is zero often enough, statistically, to use the word “always”

For about 45 minutes just now I sat here reading RSS feeds but mostly fiddling behind my back with a strap on my camisole that was twisted through its loop.

This sort of thing is why I don’t remember a lot of what I read, I guess.

I could have easily fixed the problem taking my top off, but that would be losing unless I had done that immediately. Since the initial attempt was made while I was still wearing it, the only possible way to win was to fix it while I was still wearing it.

I finally resorted to cheating by pulling my arm through that one strap so I could reach it more easily.

I felt pretty dirty about it, but it was either that or ultimately dislocate my shoulder.

The strap is no longer twisted through the loop, but upon closer inspection, this appears to be a strap that I sewed back on in a hurry one night before going out.

And I fucked it up. The strap itself is twisted where it attaches to the rest of the top.

I was late that night anyway.

There is nothing I can do to make this better now.

I am a failure.

Kind of want to die.

In which Candice complains about her landlord… again

I bet our landlord is glad this cold weather is almost over!

For reasons he doesn’t bother to be aware of or give a shit about!

Guess what happens when our furnace keeps breaking down (won’t ignite) and you don’t do anything to properly fix it besides jiggling some wires until it works one single time before you leave again, guy?

First of all, one of these posts. Probably you should start reading here. But if you’re masochistic and are still reading, this:

  1. The motor runs constantly whenever it gets cold enough in here to kick on until such time as someone comes home to bash it with something and make it work or we wake up (freezing fucking cold) too bash it with something and make it work.
  2. Since you pay our electric bill, you get to pay for a furnace that is running all day and night while accomplishing nothing.
  3. Since the furnace doesn’t work, we plug in four space heaters and run them at full blast 24/7 instead.
  4. Since you pay our electric, you get to pay for running four space heaters at full blast 24/7 instead.
  5. You risk having your shitty building burn down because we are running four space heaters at full blast on shitty wiring because we have a non-working furnace that won’t ignite. Problems with ignition… probably not a fire hazard, right?
  6. I get really fucking annoyed.

I don’t know how much extra he must be paying on the electric bill every month, and I don’t care. But I’ve really been saving on our gas bill this winter. And freezing my fucking ass off.

Soon I get to be annoyed with the fact that our back door needs to be replaced completely because it doesn’t fit its frame properly anymore and there are huge gaps around all sides that no weatherstripping can fix, meaning that bugs (cockroaches, FUCK) can just walk right on in whenever they feel like it. We have an SRO across the 6-foot alley out back. I dunno if you know what that means, precisely, but approximately: dirtbag everything-infested disgustingness (it’s almost The Whistler season…) I guess he likes constantly paying for exterminators just as much as he liked paying for the extra electric use (instead of gas, sucker) caused by the icy cold draft coming from that fucker all winter. And by draft, I mean wind. ‘Cause this shit is not up to code. Neither is the lake that keeps appearing out our back door and threatening to overflow under the door and into our kitchen. Or you know. Actually doing it.

For the record, I’ve avoided cockroaches two summers ago and apparently ever since then going totally OCD on our apartment with caulk and expanding foam the first time I saw the bastards. I filled in every motherfucking crack in this place. You have nowhere to hide, you sickening bastards! Every crack. Every one. I’m not kidding. Most of the other units still get exterminated every few months. I hope he doesn’t mind the mess caused by my frantic and unprofessional crack-filling. It’s only due to his failure to consider his own preventative measures. (BTW, not exterminating every unit, guy? Just means the cockroaches move to the next resident’s unit temporarily. They do not go away. But I don’t care, because they don’t come here, so continue blowing money.)

I hate landlords, man.

I have to go bash our furnace with something now (damn, I am sick of listening to that thing run), so rant over.

Until next time I have to do laundry, probably.

This blog is mostly about how much I hate to do laundry, I think. And also I think I’ve made this exact post about sixteen times.

How Candice Makes Playlists

I want to let you in on my fantabulous method of creating playlists. May or may not require Winamp. Whatever player you use must allow you to search tracks/artists/whatnot by keyword. That’s probably all of them, I imagine.

Step one: You’ve got two options here. Either play any song you happen to like, or choose a random word and search for it in your audio library. For no good reason, I have chosen “terrible” as the starting point for my example.

Step two: Choose a word from the title of the track you’re listening to, or the name of the artist, or the name of the album. Search for it in your audio library. The next track you add has to include that word. Preference is to choose a word from song title #1 that is repeated in song title #2, but it’s not really important, especially if you run into song titles that are only one word long. I mean, there isn’t any sort of law regulating this shit. The only rule is that you can’t play two songs by the same artist in a row. And especially not the same album. Goddamn.

Step three: Repeat step two forever.

My playlist tonight (artist – album – track):

  1. Poe – Haunted – Terrible Thought
  2. David Usher – Little Songs – Final Thoughts and Last Day on Earth
  3. Built Like Alaska – Autumnland – Almost the Earth
  4. Strapping Young Lad – The New Black – Almost Again
  5. Meat Beat Manifesto – Acid Again – Acid Again
  6. DJ? Acucrack – Sorted – Chicks Dig Acid
  7. Rasputina – Thanks for the Ether – Dig Ophelia
  8. Peter Gabriel – Us – Digging in the Dirt (Cheated a bit here by using “dig” twice)
  9. Hawksley Workman – (Last Night We Were) The Delicious Wolves – Dirty and True
  10. Matthew Good – Hospital Music – True Love will Find You in the End

Get it? Okay. The end.

Urge to kill… rising…

I go to start some laundry.

Some guy is in there putting his laundry into the dryer at the same time I am putting my laundry into the washer.

The washer takes half the time of the dryer, so I wait for the amount of time the dryer takes to go switch my laundry from the washer to the dryer.

I’m a few minutes late.

The dryer has probably been off 5-10 minutes when I head to the laundry room.

When I get there someone else’s clothes are already in the dryer.

Their laundry can’t have been in the dryer more than 5-10 minutes.

My wet laundry is on top of the dryers.

They must have taken my laundry out of the washer almost immediately after it finished washing and snuck their crap into those machines in the extra time between my washers finishing and the first guy’s dryers finishing.

That’s already rude.

And pointless, unless they were planning to do exactly what they did next.

They decided their laundry should get to go immediately into the dryer.

No jumping in line, asshat!

Had half a mind to take their sopping wet shit and put it on the table, but I’m not that crabby today.

Complaining here instead.

Still contemplating murder, but only theoretical murder.

I hate doing laundry so very much.

How do spelling mistakes happen? Serious ones, I mean.

Not typos.

Not grammatical errors.

Not putting i on the wrong side of e.

Not anything from the list of commonly misspelled words.

Not screwing up some absurd foreign word with too many or not enough vowels.

Not mixing up homophones or near-homophones or not-even-really-close-at-all-but-I-can-sort-of-see-a-resemblance-homophones.

I’m talking about spelling mistakes where the person must have known they had no idea which letters to put in which order.

I recently saw a Formspring question that contained “exhorbent” (exorbitant) and “execorbate” (exacerbate).

If you’re the person typing those things, you’ve got to realize that you’re unsure of how to even pronounce what you’re trying to spell. Right?

Right?

So why do these people try in vain to guess? They know they’re guessing. Don’t they?

Don’t they?

I can almost see pulling this kind of shit in a situation where there’s no access to a dictionary, but substituting another word would be my preferred choice.

Online, two seconds spent with Google will fix everything. And if someone can’t manage to figure things out that way they can still substitute another word.

Unless they don’t care if people think they’re stupid.

Is that the problem?

Do people not care if they seem stupid?

That doesn’t make sense, does it?

Because if that’s the case, why are they trying to use big words in the first place?

Explain this shit to me.

You should know me better by now, Google

J-Walk, one of 8,000 blogs I read daily, posted an entry with a link to Google Ads Preferences, which endeavours to “make the ads you see on the web more interesting” by tracking your cookies and guessing at your interests and demographics.

Here’s what Google thinks it knows about me, with the wrong bits crossed out in red:

Hovering over the little question mark after the last item reveals the text “based on the websites you’ve visited, we think you’re interested in topics that mostly interest men.” Which is probably true. Sexy ladies and sci-fi. Sexy sci-fi ladies. Taking shit apart. Computer nerdery. I’m pretty girly for a man, though.

Anyway, I’m also interested in accuracy, categories, lists, not having any privacy and repetitive activities. So I made a few corrections:

And now… I’ll go back to not looking at any ads in the first place on account of running AdBlock.

How to set your Facebook relationship status to “civil union”, “domestic partnership” or “civil partnership” from anywhere on Earth

Facebook added “in a civil union”, “in a domestic partnership” and “in a civil partnership” to its list of possible relationship status options a few days ago. They only appear if you live in the United States, Canada, the United Kingdom, France or Australia. Same-sex unions are recognized in many other places, of course, and Facebook plans to roll the update out to other countries eventually, but until then there are a couple of ways to change your relationship status to one of the new options right now.

Facebook determines which options to make available to you based on your IP address and its corresponding location. Using a proxy located in any of the five regions listed above will allow you to see the new choices. Hide My Ass has a list of free proxies here. Scroll to the bottom of that page for instructions on where to change the proxy settings in your web browser. Be sure to read the security notes as well — using random open proxies can make you susceptible to data theft!

If you don’t want to worry about having your information intercepted by using a proxy there is a second method you can use. It requires editing the data submitted by the “Featured People” form on the site. If you’re not familiar with HTML it may be a little bit tricky. What you need to do is fill out the form using one of the existing options, such as “in a relationship”, then use a tool such as Firebug for Firefox to select the drop-down and change the “value” attribute of the “in a relationship” option to 10 for “in a civil union” or 11 for “in a domestic partnership”. Some Firebug basics can be found here.

And hell. I was bored today, so I put together this little userscript that you can use with Greasemonkey or in Chrome. All the code is there on Facebook to allow users worldwide to use the new statuses and to accept the requests except for the options in the drop-down menu. I added them back. Install my rinky dink first ever userscript here: New Facebook relationship status options for the WHOLE DAMN WORLD. I tested it using a few different proxies, and it seemed to work for me (hopefully I’m not just loopy). Maybe this is the first method I should have mentioned…

One final note: users with their language set to “English (UK)” have “in a civil partnership” listed twice as possible statuses (unless they’re using my script, because it doesn’t bother checking) and will see “in a civil union” or “in a domestic partnership” replaced with “in a civil partnership” on other users’ profiles. This is because Facebook has actually created only two new relationship status options and translated them both to “in a civil partnership” for the UK language setting only.

All language options other than “English (UK)” on the site that I’ve checked do not translate the new relationship status text at all, showing “in a civil union” or “in a domestic partnership” in English, so it looks like Facebook has been pretty lazy here so far. If you’re looking at the site using the UK translation and you care what everyone else in the world is going to see, be aware that the first “in a civil partnership” in the drop-down corresponds to “in a civil union” and the second corresponds to “in a domestic partnership”.

Thing-a-Day: Days Eight and Nine (and Ten) — FSM Postcards

Painted the background of these postcards two days ago, but couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do with them,  so I left them blank. Good effort, me! Yesterday a stencil appeared in the mail that was coincidentally just the right size, so ta da! Flying Spaghetti Monster postcards. Messy ones. Needed a smaller sponge and some adhesive, maybe. The top right one was last, if that’s not obvious… Paper stencil got a bit warped.

Does the following minimal effort count for day ten? Because that’s today, and I still feel like I belong on my couch watching MST3K. Maybe eating leftover chili and chocolates counts? I vote that it does. And since I’m the one that imposed these rules upon myself in the first place…

Thing-a-Day: Day Seven — 47 Cans of Beans Emptied into a Pot

I don’t care about football one bit, but there were so many mentions of chili in my Twitter stream… so I made some. Tastes much better than it looks as a photo taken with my cell phone and its dreadful flash.

Did you know some people use a recipe to make this stuff? Here’s how I make mine: whatever I feel like, to taste. This pot’s got beer, orange juice and Worchestershire sauce. I don’t think most people put mushrooms in, either. My mom always did, so I do, too.

We like our chili runny around here because we add billions of crackers. Which I forgot to buy at the store, along with sour cream and cheese. Good going, me! Well, whatever. It’s nearly 5am. This stuff is obvioiusly for “tomorrow”, anyway.

Day six’s post in MIA. It requires the assistance of the husband to finish it, and he’s been too busy. I’m sure it’ll turn up eventually…