Stubble fun

Silly advantage to having a shaved head: after going clubbing on a weekend night and getting the stamp on your hand or wrist, next time you’re in the shower, get a good headfull of shampoo lather, then, before rinsing off, rapidly scrub your hand or wrist across your head. That sixteenth of an inch stubble makes a great impromptu scrub brush! Viola — no more stamp!

Yes, I know that a washcloth, or loofah, or bath poof, or any number of other things work just as well. But they’re infinitely less entertaining to blog about.

Batteries

Note to myself: Pick up a 9-volt battery for the smoke alarm on the way home tonight. That painfully loud chirp every five minutes or so is getting really annoying.

Kickshaw grumbles

Last year at the Bite of Seattle, I discovered an incredible local acapella group called Kickshaw that blew me away when I walked up in time to hear a flawless acapella performance of one of my all-time favorite songs, “Papa Was a Rolling Stone”.

After their version of “Dance to the Music” came up in iTunes today, I hit their website on a whim and discovered that they’re going to be performing at the Bite of Seattle food festival next weekend. Got all excited, started planning to go to see them again — and then realized that they’re playing at 6pm on Friday. I’ll be at work. Grrr. Not thrilled with whoever scheduled that. Didn’t they know that they should have consulted with me first?

Uh, yeah. Right. Anyway.

On the bright side, come early August, they’ll be performing at the Taste of Edmonds food festival, which is just about half an hour by car from here. Prairie’s expressed interest in going, so hopefully we’ll be able to head out that way and catch them there. Would be very cool to get to see them again.

Always On

The ubiquity of technology in the lives of executives, other businesspeople and consumers has created a subculture of the Always On — and a brewing tension between productivity and freneticism. For all the efficiency gains that it seemingly provides, the constant stream of data can interrupt not just dinner and family time, but also meetings and creative time, and it can prove very tough to turn off.

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Some people who are persistently wired say it is not uncommon for them to be sitting in a meeting and using a hand-held device to exchange instant messages surreptitiously — with someone in the same meeting. Others may be sitting at a desk and engaging in conversation on two phones, one at each ear. At social events, or in the grandstand at their children’s soccer games, they read news feeds on mobile devices instead of chatting with actual human beings.

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These speed demons say they will fall behind if they disconnect, but they also acknowledge feeling something much more powerful: they are compulsively drawn to the constant stimulation provided by incoming data. Call it O.C.D. — online compulsive disorder.

The New York Times article The Lure of Data: Is It Addictive? describes perfectly something I’ve been noticing all over the place, creeping up for a few years now — and something that I hope I’ll never fall prey to.

This actually ties in to some of my earlier rants about cell phone usage (and rudeness). Everywhere I go, people are constantly so obsessed with being in touch at all times with everyone and everything possible, that the real world practically ceases to exist for them. At the very least, it becomes far less important to them than any of their gadgets, which is my primary frustration. Conversations with someone standing right in front of you are suddenly interrupted for a cell phone’s ring, or a PDA’s beep, or any number of other electronic distractions, and suddenly the person who’s right there becomes secondary to checking the gadget to see what the beep is for.

When did it become so easy to blatantly shrug off real people for e-mail, pager beeps, or any number of other online distractions? And why do so many people accept it so easily? It drives me up the ever-loving wall when I’m being set aside for some gadget, and I make a concerted effort never to do that to others.

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Game on!

Next some other idiot is going to try to play Quidditch with a Dirt Devil, two bowling balls, a basketball, and a badminton birdie. Sha!

Kirsten

I’m in! Who else?

Pre-Natal Massage

On a boring day at work, the phrase “pre-natal massage” becomes way too funny. I know what it really means…but what it could mean had my co-worker and I alternating between really amused and really disgusted.