Once again, I forgot to take my shampoo and conditioner and lotion and mouthwash and antiseptic out of my carryon and put them in a little plastic bag, and put the plastic bag on the belt separately, and once again, I went straight through security.

I’ve thought airline security was a bit ridiculous since I was caught with an oversize lotion (I forgot! Again! Because it’s stupid!) and I was allowed to take it on plane after explaining to the TSA agent that it was my very favorite lotion. Homeland Security can be totally thwarted by asking the security agent “Smell this lotion! Isn’t it nice? Wouldn’t you be sad to have to throw it away?” (This does not make the entire shoe-removal and baggage x-ray into a farce! No terrorists would ever think of saying please!)

But I hit a new low yesterday on the flight to Los Angeles, when the flight attendant made an announcement that she’d misplaced the corkscrew for first class, and did anyone happen to have one?

From the blog Simpson's Paradox, please comment here:

In Transit

Tweet this!

Two fairly regular customers came in today. At first, I was flattered that they seemed more than a little pleased to see me. “You’re still here! That’s great!” the husband greeted me, with huge enthusiasm. “We didn’t see you last time, so we figured you’d quit and gotten something better.”

“We thought you’d gotten a new job.” His wife agreed. “You’re so bright and efficient, and waitressing is such a dead-end job.”

“Waitresses have such low pay and such long hours standing and all that running around and no prospects for advancement and customers are rude to you all day long. But you’re still here!”

YES! Okay! Got it! My job situation still sucks! Can I get you a drink?

From the blog Simpson's Paradox, please comment here:

Still Here

Tweet this!

I wasn’t sure what was most amusing. First, if you take the price of our tickets to Denver, and subtract the voucher I got for taking a bump coming home after Thanksgiving, and the $200 we’d just gotten for not having to sit through a movie, we were practically making money by traveling.

Second, receiving a $100 voucher in lieu of a movie implies that the inflight movie was worth $100, doesn’t it?

Coming back, we were told that Stick’s suitcase was a couple of pounds overweight, and we could either take something out or pay $130 dollars. Now, that $130 overweight charge, plus the $20 for having a bag at all, would mean that it costs more for us to get our clothes home to Raleigh than to get ourselves to Denver and back. I’m not sure how that makes any sense, or how the counter agent could possibly tell us that with a straight face.

Stick decided to pull out a boardgame out of the overweight suitcase and call that his personal item. Since everyone else had also decided to cram everything into the largest carryon possible, the overhead bins on our flight were quickly filled, and passengers who boarded later were forced to check their carryon bags.

So… if we’d been seated in the fourth cattle call instead of the third, then the overhead compartments would have been full, and the airline would have checked the game box along with all the other excess carry-on baggage. And checking carryons is free, so it wouldn’t have made the airline any more money, and it would have taken up more space in the cargo area because it was out of the suitcase –

And then my head exploded.

From the blog Simpson's Paradox, please comment here:

Airline Math

Tweet this!

Google’s last toy, Google Wave, was kind of a flop for me because it seemed like a neat collaborative tool, but none of my friends were on it yet. (On a reread, doesn’t that make me sound like a pretentious tech geek?) Like any social network, it’s only as good as the people using it, and as Google doled out Wave invitations, I kind of lost interest in sharing information with the two friends who were on with me. But I like Google, and I was willing to give them a pass on Wave since they’d won my heart with GMail, the Google Copernicus center, their Beijing building, that time they sent me an Adsense check, and so forth. So I was pleased to try Buzz.

Buzz seems to be flopping for the same reasons that the early Facebook news feeds flopped when they were first released in 2006. The two major complaints then were the invasion of privacy and mind-numbing boredom.

I think the lack of privacy complaints are largely coming from users who are having trouble separating their private GChat and Gmail conversation from public GBuzz conversations, or who added their other sites to their Google profile and didn’t expect to see their Picasa or Blogspot feeds on Buzz.

I didn’t feel overexposed with Buzz but I don’t really want to talk with every person in my GMail contacts, all the time. My Buzz was the minutiae that Twitter-haters whine about, it seemed like page after page of acquaintances’ shopping lists. I don’t know if the familiarity of Google made people feel more informal, but the ratio of mundane  noise to interesting tidbits seems to be off.

For every published piece I have, I’ve responded to many calls for submissions, only to find out that the publication is offering their writers valuable exposure! A platform to share your ideas!  The glory of seeing your name on the internet! A percentage of the ad revenue, once we have advertisers, that is. A chance to contribute to a startup and get in on the ground floor of a great new project! Positions are not paid at this time, but our volunteer writers will be considered first. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. And now, our relationship does not end here. If I want,  I can find out what they’re are having for lunch, or see pictures of their cars in the snow, or find out what song they’ve got stuck in their heads. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

I also have fascinating, relevant streams on Buzz, because I have such amazing, interesting friends (Yes, you.) but it turns out that I’m already following essentially the same content on Twitter, or reading their blogs, or seeing their Tumblr or del.icio.us links.

The great part of Google products has been innovation, and so far, Buzz doesn’t offer anything we don’t already have in other forms. We can already share links socially with Facebook (and a dozen other sites), we can already chat online, we can already share status updates.  If I want to share more, I can pull feeds from other sites into Facebook or  use Facebook Connect, so everyone can know when I crop a Flickr photo or read an article on Huffington Post. And if I want to see less noise from my friends feed, I can shut off FarmVille notifications or other applications. I have Twitter, Facebook, Gmail and a feedreader, so Buzz doesn’t seem to be bringing anything new.

Are you using Buzz? How’s it working out for you?

From the blog Simpson's Paradox, please comment here:

Buzz Off

Tweet this!

First, I recently reviewed the new Nintendo DS game Women’s Murder Club: Games of Passion on ThumbGods:

WMC follows the usual pattern of story cutscenes, hidden objects and minigames. The hidden objects casual adventure game is a pretty crowded genre, so it’s hard for a new game to really stand out. Probably the most unique characteristic was the James Patterson characters.  Players solve crimes and meet with the WMC ladies as Patterson’s detective Lindsay Boxer, and supporting characters with solid personalities made this more that just a reskinned HO game.

The story progresses via cutscenes and dialogue options. Players have some choices for what to say, but it was more of a quiz on recent plot events. Believable banter makes the cutscenes worth reading, and the linear storyline makes it feel like reading a novel, not being hemmed

Random side note: The mysterious Chinese markings found on the victim actually do say bu zhong, Not Loyal. My Chinese  literacy is just good enough to be completely thrilled with the developers for using real words when dramatic red scribbles would have acceptable. (It always cracks me up when I see upside-down characters or random other words.) Good work, THQ.

Via Thumb Gods » Game Review: Women’s Murder Club

I know I’m supposed to be all blase about it, but that’s a photo of my review copy of WMC. It’s a hard copy with a press letter and everything. I’m going to keep it it on the shelf next to my other review copy, just as soon as I finish doing my I’m-a-real-journalist happy dance.

I also reviewed the Screaming Narwhal:

Telltale’s new Monkey Island is not to be confused with the LucasArts updated re-release. No, the Screaming Narwhal is an all-new tale in the saga of Guybrush Threepwood, mighty pirate. Elaine and LeChuck (and at least one other familiar character!) are back as well, revamped from their grainy 2d incarnations, but following the spirit of the originals.

Goofy dialogue, creative uses for found items and pirate-y silliness are the hallmarks of the Monkey Island games, and the Screaming Narwhal has them all. Guybrush uses his razor-sharp wits to deal with the wacky denizens of Flotsam Island, whether that’s a clever ruse of selling fine leather jacket, an amazing use of misdirection (Look! It’s Louis XIV!) or coming up with a believable excuse on the spot. The dialogue is not a memory test of in-game facts, but a chance for zany interactions.

Via Thumb Gods » Tales of Monkey Island: Launch of the Screaming Narwhal

And over on TechCoquette, I have a new piece about beginning a relationship on Facebook:

The awkward conversation in which you ask the one you’re seeing if the two of you are in a relationship isn’t new, but Facebook adds a new dimension. Are we in a relationship … on our Facebook profiles?

If you’re taking your new relationship Facebook-public, congrats! That little in a relationship with link is our generation’s class ring or football jacket, a public announcement that what you’ve got going on is more than just a couple of dates. It says you’re exclusive, and it also means no more of those awkward “my, um, friend” introductions.

Via Being “In a Relationship” on Facebook | TechCoquette

And I have another article on TechCoquette about ending a relationship and defriending the ex on Facebook.

If you actually meant that line about still being friends, Facebook defriending may help you create the space you need to become comfortable on your new footing. You may refriend him the future, when time has passed and you’re both ready to reconnect; but until then, you don’t have to be reminded of him whenever you see his status updates. Also, you won’t have to read sickly-sweet wall chatter between him and his new girl, and you won’t be reminded when he goes back to your favorite brunch spot. Even after a mutual decision to split, reading a feed of your ex’s daily life and thoughts can be unpleasant.

Via Let’s Not Be Friends: Facebook Ex Etiquette | TechCoquette

This last one is significant because it’s one of the rare times I’ve titled one of my own articles and been really happy with the title. Let’s Not Be Friends. Clever, huh? And much better than my usual lame titles like What I’ve Been Working On.

From the blog Simpson's Paradox, please comment here:

What I’ve Been Up To

Tweet this!

“What does circumlocution mean?” asked one student, who wrote a hilarious career essay on becoming a successful Pokemon master.

“I can’t tell you that,” I said, “I won’t be next to you on the real test.”

“I could summon you from a Pokeball. Miss Meg, I choose you!”

“Then I would appear and tell you to break it down into smaller parts! Look for roots you know. What does circum mean? What other worlds have locu?”

“Circum is like circle and locution is like elocution. So… it means talking in circles?”

“I can’t tell you the answers, Ash Ketchum. The more word parts you know, the better you’ll be at this.”

“Gotta catch ‘em all!”

Another student raises his hand. “Miss Meg, what’s detractor mean?”

“I can’t tell you kids the vocabulary words! Try to break it into smaller pieces.”

“Huh?”

“It starts with de. What does de usually mean? What other words have tract?”

“Oh! So it’s someone who takes apart a tractor! Thanks, Miss Meg!”

If only I could get back to privacy of my Pokeball to laugh.

From the blog Simpson's Paradox, please comment here:

Pokemon Detractors

Tweet this!

Now, I love Pride and Prejudice.The story is an understated comedy of formal manners and romantic expectations, plus nerdy girls everywhere agree that Mr Darcy is a catch. I love it because it also shows that the clever use of sarcasm can make any difficult situation better.

I was excited for some more brilliant Elizabeth / Darcy banter, and I was interested in seeing how the relationship matured. Would seventeen years of marriage to Elizabeth get Darcy laughing and lighthearted, or would she find that the dark, sarcastic, brooding type can be hard to live with? Are Jane and Bingley cheated by every servant, as Mr. Bennett predicted at the end of Pride and Prejudice?

I was hoping that bookish Mary would have some bluestocking friends and perhaps meet a nice professor or author for her love interest. Instead, she is kidnapped first by highwaymen, then by Darcy’s brutish secret half-brother, and finally spends most of the book held hostage by, um, a human-sacrifice cult living in the huge underground caves near Pemberley! (The Darcys just have endless skeletons in their closets, don’t they?). I had to check a couple times to make sure I was reading an actual novel and not internet fanfic.

The understated comedy was gone. Instead, characters with the same names as my beloved Bennett sisters had emotional blowup after emotional blowup. A blunt and uncontrolled Elizabeth Bennett Darcy shouting mediocre insults? Huh? Antisocial Darcy — who goes by the cutesy nickname Fitz — is networking with the house of lords as part of his campaign for prime minister, and trying to keep both his thuggish half-brother and mad, alcoholic Lydia Bennett Wickham a secret. One clever moment, when Caroline Bingley is dispatched to deal with pushover Jane and Bigley’s unruly children, is canceled out by bizarre actions by characters we know and love.

Writing a sequel to such a well-loved story would be difficult no matter what, and subject to readers insisting that that’s not what Jane / Elizabeth / Darcy / Mary would really have done. But, come on, a human sacrifice cult? In Derbyshire?

From the blog Simpson's Paradox, please comment here:

The Independence of Miss Mary Bennett

Tweet this!

I saw this over on Suburban Turmoil, aptly titled  “Best. News Release. Ever.”

Monster Mash Singer’s Daughter Turns His Cremated Remains into a Diamond.

Los Angeles, CA October 31st, 2008 – Bobby Pickett who co-wrote and performed “The Monster Mash“, died at the age of 69 on April 25, 2007 in Los Angeles, California, due to complications from leukemia. His daughter Nancy Huus was at his side when he died.

After his death, Nancy had a .44 ct colorless LifeGem diamond created from his cremated remains. She wears it in a white gold solitaire ring. Pickett was diagnosed with leukemia 5 years ago, and he and his daughter Nancy talked openly about death. “I saw a show about turning cremated remains into diamonds,” said Nancy, “I immediately called my father and told him that I wanted to make a diamond from his cremated remains; he loved the idea.”

Creepy. I first blogged about LifeGems a few years ago, when I thought it was a pretend company (like BabyInk). I’m a little disturbed that it’s real and that people are turning their departed loved ones into jewelry. But I stand by what I said:

Whoever came up with Life Gems must have been playing a little too much Morrowind. Sometimes when you’re playing Morrowind, you’re a dark mage and you steal someone’s lifeforce and make a Soul Gem to facilitate your evil sorcery and character leveling. But the people behind Life Gems are actually turning human bodies into cubic zirconia. Can you imagine?

“I like your earrings.”
“Thanks, they were my grandparents,”

This is also another example of what a difference an apostrophe makes, because there’s nothing dark-wizardy about wearing jewelry that was your grandparent‘s.

You’d think with the amount of time I spend thinking about usage and punctuation, I’d have affect and effect worked out by now, wouldn’t you?

From the blog Simpson's Paradox, please comment here:

Soul Gems

Tweet this!

Ethiopians claim they hate condoms because the smell of latex sickens them. To combat the odor, DKT International, a United Sates nonprofit, created coffee condoms. These dark brown condoms allegedly (I’m not testing the products) taste and smell like the favorite coffee of Ethiopia—the macchiato, an espresso with cream and sugar. … These condoms bolster national identity because Ethiopians claim to have invented coffee. DKT International also created flavored and scented condoms for Indonesia (durian fruit) and China (sweet corn).

Yes, that’s right. Durian fruit flavored condoms.

Durian is a strange Asian fruit, which is either considered a delicacy or one of the most revolting smells on the planet. I fall into the second category… I still regret once putting my nose near a durian just to see if that funny spikey fruit could really be making that sickening rotting smell. (It was!) Even in countries where durian is eaten, durian are not allowed in public places, like on subways, or on planes, or into hotels or hospitals because of the smell.

I find that retching and gagging discourages romance, but to each his own, I guess.

Via mental_floss Blog » 5 Innovative Ways to Encourage Safer Sex

From the blog Simpson's Paradox, please comment here:

Durian Romance

Tweet this!

From the blog Simpson's Paradox, please comment here:

The Amazing Value of Complete Sentences

Tweet this!