The Rules Rules

Some Things Never Change

2008-05-05T16:54:00.002-05:00

I didn't realize there were still people who wore fanny packs.

Of Utmost Significance

2008-03-24T16:30:00.004-05:00

Even though The Rules Rules has been a hive of inactivity for the past few months, there are a dedicated few of you who stop by every day or so just to see if I've posted anything new. Sadly, there just hasn't been anything in my little world that has been post-worthy. I've been trying to come up with something more significant than a short quip or silly picture forwarded to me by a friend or colleague, but to no avail.

Sadly (and at the same time, spectacularly), this video is of such unparalleled significance that I just couldn't pass posting it. But be warned: some of you may want to take a potty break before watching it.

Kitten Update

2007-11-26T22:43:00.000-06:00

I just realized that it's been exactly five months since I revealed to the world that I got a kitten. Which means that I've let exactly five months go by without giving an update. This must be remedied immediately.

In that post, I mentioned the little guy's boundless energy and the toll it was taking on my ability to sleep. It wasn't long before every cat owner I knew was telling me, "You know, kittens do better in pairs. They take their energy out on each other rather than on you." And after just one week of sleepless nights, I was ready to try anything. So I called up the adoption place and begged for mercy. The nice lady informed me that if I adopt a litter mate, the fee is half off for the second beast. I told her to get her shoes on 'cause I was on my way over. Within an hour, I was bringing home my fuzzball's little sister.

I would soon find out that putting the two together would take a load of stress off of me, but that relief would have to wait a bit. I got home and practically bounded to my door with the pet carrier to reunite the siblings. I opened the door and called out, "Hey, buddy, I'm home!" and he came running to greet me. I hadn't turned lights on yet, and in the dim room, it looked like he was bringing me something he had found. And he had found something alright. As he got close to the open door, I could see that he had a fishing lure dangling from his lip. I don't know how he found my fishing pole, but he did, and there was my lure. And the funny thing was that the little doofus was completely oblivious that he had been pierced. He almost seemed proud of his new adornment. He looked up at me and mewed as if to say, "Check out what I did today!"

Sigh.

I got the wire cutters to cut the barb off, but holding him still enough to cut through it was at least a two-hand task, leaving me no hands to snip with. Again, oblivious to his predicament, he didn't squirm out of pain, he just wanted to go play. So I called my sister and bro-in-law (who only knew about the first kitten) and asked if they could help me with "something." I loaded both animals in the carrier and went over to sis's apartment. I started explaining about the fish hook and opened the carrier and he bounded out, as curious as ever. A few moments later, the second kitty slowly crept out as well, and there was rejoicing all around.

It took all six hands to subdue the little guy long enough for me to clip the barb off the hook and pull it from his mouth. As you can hear me saying in the second video, one of the other barbs on the treble hook cut his upper lip too. But he didn't care. As soon as it was out, he was bounding around the room like an idiot with his new playmate.

Finally, it was time to name the little rascals. Personally, I thought that Knock It Off and Get Down From There suited them perfectly, but for the sake of their veterinary records, proper names were in order. So I'd like you meet Mojo, the boy cat, and Presley, the wee lass. Mojo is a gray tabby whose name came from a commercial for the Transformers movie. Bone Junior got naming rights for Presley, only because she insisted on naming something of mine and I refused to let her name my car (I think naming cars is as stupid as dressing your pets), and didn't want to name the boy Elvis. Her vet papers say that she is a Diluted Tortiseshell, which is quite true, even though this picture makes her look more like some type of bat.

In the past 5 months, they've chewed on my blinds, gotten shots, peed on my laundry, chewed through expensive audio cable, purred on my lap, gotten their reproductive organs removed, scarred my flesh, and warmed my heart. And peed on my laundry again. I'm kinda sad that they hardly look like kittens anymore, but they've definitely calmed down some, and I'll be glad when they're completely lazy old farts like me.

More pictures here.

Here, kitty kitty!

2007-10-10T17:15:00.000-05:00

There is a dual joy in having kittens. Part of it is that they can be so darn cute, and the other part is that they can be so darn stupid.

Overheard at Lunch

2007-09-14T16:15:00.000-05:00

A couple of days ago, I was eating lunch and overheard what has to be the stupidest thing I've heard someone say in a long time.

"I think I'm going to start smoking again."

Now, just take a moment and digest the content of that proclamation. From such a short sentence, one can deduce that this person has been a smoker in the past and had taken the steps necessary to kick the habit. Then, after a period of not being stinky, this person had carefully weighed the pros and cons and come to the conclusion that living life was much better in a cloud of noxious fumes.

Naturally, my curiosity had been piqued and I went from accidentally overhearing to full fledged eavesdropping. This person continued, "It's really good for reducing stress, and I'll lose some weight too." Yeah, that's sound logic. As though there aren't things that can reduce stress and help you lose weight without giving you cancer!

Feist - 1 2 3 4

2007-08-20T14:15:00.000-05:00

The latest CD from Feist has been keeping my headphones pretty warm lately, so it's about time I share the love.

I'm not a huge fan of music videos, but every once in a while, one comes along that's brilliantly executed. This is one of those videos. Enjoy!

One Smart Cookie

2007-08-03T13:14:00.000-05:00

Look, ma! I'm gonna be smart!

Covered in Nast

2007-08-02T15:33:00.000-05:00

Ah, what a productive day. I just got done taking my keyboard apart and cleaning the nast off of each key. It wasn't horribly gross, but it needed to be done.

Other than that it's been pretty quiet around here. I just hope that doesn't have anything to do with my own little cloud I've been sitting in, like my buddy Brak here:

Zoom Zoom

2007-07-13T01:27:00.000-05:00

One word that I have never written on a check is "thousand."

Until today, that is.

The iPhone, as it should be

2007-07-11T23:54:00.000-05:00

I'm so freakin' sick of the iPhone. I even get nauseated just typing its name. Sure, it's pretty and shiny and does lots of nifty stuff, just like the popular kids from school. But as Ani DiFranco once sang, "everyone harbors a secret hatred for the prettiest girl in the room."

But you didn't come here to hear me rant about why I think that the iPhone is just a blonde bimbo with a black soul. Instead, appease your destructo-lust and watch the prettiest girl in the room get her just desserts (you can see the black soul escape at 58 1/2 seconds into the video).

Wasn't that fun? Thanks, Tom. Keep up the good work.

[Link: WillItBlend.com]

Dressed to the Nines

2007-07-05T14:07:00.000-05:00

The Rules believes that dressing one's pets is a surefire way to declare one's insanity. But if you're going to let the world know that you're nuts, might as well go out with a bang:

[via Gizmodo]

Gravity Reversal: Watch for Falling Prices

2007-06-29T10:25:00.000-05:00

Walmart is a strange beast. It's like that guy at work who is annoying in a thousand different ways but is too useful not to keep around. I can't stand the messes on the shelves or the incompetence of the staff, and I keep going back. Part of it is that Walmart is open 24 hours, so I can make a grocery/DVD long after everyone else is closed. And it doesn't hurt that stuff there is so dadgummed cheap.

A few nights ago, a friend and I finished our bi-weekly Waffle House binge and decided to cap off our white trash evening and head over to Walmart to shop for stuff we didn't need. As we were cruising the electronics department, we were sucked in by the wall of flat panel TVs. Plasmas and LCDs of all sizes showing scuba divers and tropical fish in all their hi-def glory. It was all I could do to keep my buddy from buying one (or picking one up myself). A sexy little 19" model especially caught our eye, mostly because the $277 price tag meant that we both had enough in our checking accounts to pick one up. Granted, $277 is a bit much to drop on a TV that size, but the point is that it was within reach!

And then we leaned in closer to read the fine print and noticed something rather curious.

That's right. It was as if Walmart had hired a carnival barker to yell, "Hurr-ay, hurr-ay, step right up! Get yer LCD TV right here! Only $277! Used to be $267! Get 'em before the price goes up again!"

Farther down the shelf, there was another price tag boasting of a less-modest price increase.

Now, I know that Walmart stopped using their old slogan, "Watch for falling prices," but I didn't think they'd start going the other way!

Update: I sent these pics in to Consumerist.com, and they posted them here. Thanks guys!

Kittens: Bastiens of the Lonely

2007-06-26T11:47:00.000-05:00

I must have finally gotten fed up with living alone, because this weekend I got a cat to keep me company. The original plan was to catch one of the kittens living in my friend's dad's barn, but trying to find feral kittens that didn't want to be found on a hot, sweaty, Texas afternoon turned out to be an exercise in futility. Fortunately, the kittens at the adoption center are much easier to catch (and they probably smell better, too).

These pictures don't do him justice. He looks so calm and peaceful, a pure joy to be around. Don't be fooled. I can only manage to snap a shot of him when he's sleeping, which seems to be about a third of the time. The other two thirds, he's running, pouncing, and playing with a fury that has to be seen to be believed. Of course, in true kitten fashion, it's play for two hours and then recharge for one. Lather, rinse, repeat. All. Night. Long.

Sigh.

Don't get me wrong, I love the little guy. I mean, with a face like that, who wouldn't? When he frolics his way into the other room and realizes he can't see me anymore, he starts to meow as if to say, "Help! I'm lost!" and then comes running when I speak up to let him know where I am. And when he does sleep, he loves to be right at my side. Or on my chest, or shoulder, or head.

I'm not yet 100% decided on a name for him. In the confines of my own home, Dork, Doofus, and Goofball seem to work just fine, as he ignores them all equally. But I don't think I could keep a straight face when I tell the vet to put Dork on the chart, so I need to come up with something official. Right now I'm torn between Miles and Winchester.

Miles comes from Miles Davis. The jazz musician, not the self-wetting old lady from Billy Madison. As he was freaking out in the pet carrier on the car ride home, I put on some jazz and it seemed to mellow him out a bit. Granted, I was listening to Diana Krall, but a boy kitty named Diana? Puh-leeeease.

Winchester comes from the empty box of shotgun shells he decided to use as his bed after I unsuccessfully tried to get him to sleep on my lap last night. That, and the fact that as soon as I told the adoption lady which one I wanted, she said, "Oooh, he's a pistol!"

So if anybody wants to cast a vote or offer other suggestions (Bone Junior has already suggested combining the two to make Minchester), please do. And if you don't hear from me for a while, it's because having a 10-week-old kitten has sapped me of all my energy.

Update: Battle Cat and Cringer just got added to the list. At this rate, this kitty's never gonna get a name.

My Virgin Ears

2007-05-17T11:39:00.001-05:00

Overheard in the elevator:

"Oh good. Now we won't have to see her underthings."

Fill 'Er Up, Please!

2007-05-15T01:23:00.000-05:00

Over the past few days, I've received three copies of the following email from different individuals, proposing a one-day gas purchase boycott on May 15:

Don't pump gas on may 15th

In April 1997, there was a "gas out" conducted nationwide in protest of gas prices. Gasoline prices dropped 30 cents a gallon overnight.

On May 15th 2007, all internet users are to not go to a gas station in protest of high gas prices. Gas is now over $3.00 a gallon in most places.

There are 73,000,000+ American members currently on the internet network, and the average car takes about 30 to 50 dollars to fill up.

If all users did not go to the pump on the 15th, it would take $2,292,000,000.00 (that's almost 3 BILLION) out of the oil companys pockets for just one day, so please do not go to the gas station on May 15th and lets try to put a dent in the Middle Eastern oil industry for at least one day.

If you agree (which I cant see why you wouldn't) resend this to all your contact list. With it saying, ''Don't pump gas on May 15th"

The logic behind this so-called boycott is so full of holes, it's amazing that versions of this email have continued to circulate for as many years as they have. Then again, a huge portion of those 73 million Americans on the "internet network" are gullible enough to accept as fact just about anything that gets forwarded to their inboxes.

First off, the claim that gas prices dropped thirty cents overnight after the "gas out" in 1997 is pure bunk. It did not happen. I don't even need to check any history books to back up my claim because it could not have happened. Not unless the laws of economics took a one day trip to Bizarro Land, that is. Let me explain.

It is true that at current gas prices, a tank of gas could cost from thirty to fifty dollars or more. However, if you're like me, you usually only fill your tank once a week or so. The only way the oil industry would feel a $3 billion dollar hit from a one-day boycott would be if every one of the boycotters were currently in the habit of filling their cars with thirty to fifty dollars of gas every single day. In reality, those of you who choose not to fill up today will just end up filling up tomorrow, or the next day, or as soon as your tank gets empty. Just like you always do. The oil industry still gets paid.

That $3 billion figure is bogus as well. By some sort of fuzzy math, $2.3 billion got rounded up to an even $3 billion. At any rate, in order to reach it, all those 73 million internet-savvy Americans would have to participate in the boycott. But just because a gallon of gas costs $3 does not mean that $3 goes to the pockets of the oil companies. That $3 is split amongst the refineries, storage facilities, distribution chain, State, Federal and sales taxes, exploration for and production of new crude oil, and last (and definitely least), the gas retailers. So assuming that refining costs make up about 24% of the gasoline dollar and that people buy gas on average once every seven days instead of daily, the "hit" that the oil companies would take on a one-day gas boycott by 73 million Americans is actually more like $78 million. That may still seem like a big number, but don't forget that it must be further divided amongst all the oil companies, whether they be Middle Eastern, Venezuelan, or American. You chop $78 million into just a few pieces, and you're looking one company's daily advertising budget. Doesn't sound so impressive anymore, does it?

In order to put that $2.3 billion hurt on the oil companies, those 73 million Americans would have to fully dedicate themselves to the boycott not for one day, but for 35 weeks (or, if they really were buying a full tank of gas every day, 35 days). Still, I don't know anyone who can go without gas for a month, much less 35 weeks, do you?

The real people who would feel the hurt of a one-day gas boycott would be the other recipients of the pieces of that gasoline dollar. We sure don't want to hinder the exploration and production of new crude oil, because decrease in supply means higher prices. Putting financial strain on the storage and distribution companies will also force them to recoup their losses by...you guessed it...raising their prices. And while the efficiency of the tax system may be up for debate, the taxes we pay on gas are used for our benefit.

Sadly, those who would feel the strongest squeeze from a gas boycott would be the independent retailers. There are gas stations owned and operated by the oil companies themselves, but the majority of gas stations in America are privately owned. They buy gas at the going rate and resell it to the public, with little or no say in the price they hang on their marquees. Deliberately hurting your local businesses has noticeable effects on the local economy, which in turn comes back to bite you.

So if you're low on gas today, fill up. And if you're not, fill up when you are. Either way, don't believe the hype. You've been enlightened today, so rather than forwarding the boycott email, send your friends a link to this article instead.

Update: It was late when I wrote this post, and I did so before thinking to check Snopes.com, my favorite site for debunking the myths perpetuated by internet gossip. While my post is very similar to the article at Snopes, my writing is my own, and is the product of simple common sense coupled with facts found through a few minutes of research.

It is not my intent to take a holier-than-thou position. I may say that The Rules is always right, but anyone who knows me personally also knows that I do not take a firm stance on something unless I've made sure that that stance is upon a solid foundation.

I Wanna Rock!

2007-05-03T14:34:00.000-05:00

While I'm working, I've got my whole music collection on shuffle, so it's like audio schizophrenia all day long. I love it. Today, the first song that came up was "Pour Some Sugar On Me" by Def Leppard, and I was instantly hit with memories of elementary-school summer days spent at the skating rink, trying to skate backwards to the beat of a one-armed drummer.

So great are those memories, that I hereby declare today as Hair Metal Thursday. So put some Poison in your playlist, grab your Guns N' Roses, put on your spandex and RATT out your hair, and just ROCK! You can see what I've been listening to in my Last.fm chart over there on the right. Let me know in the comments what you're listening to or what memories some old metal song brings back for you.

An Early Christmas Wish List

2007-05-02T00:49:00.000-05:00

Just on the off-chance that one of you is thinking, "Hey, The Rules is a great guy, and I'd like to buy him something," may I suggest this.

Thank you.

Get a life, eh?

2007-04-09T17:47:00.000-05:00

Every day it seems I come across something that makes me lose a little more faith in humanity. Sanjaya Malakar is one of them, but that's another post for another day. Today, it was the news of the Toronto Blue Jays commercial being banned by the Television Bureau of Canada because it depicts slugger Frank Thomas swatting one of his kids with a pillow in a pillow fight.

Yes. A pillow.

You can read all about it for yourself in The New York Times and form your own opinion, but it is The Rules' opinion that anyone who can't find the innocent humor in this ad has a black soul and eats puppies for lunch. I'm sure that Jim Patterson, president of the Television Bureau of Canuckdom, enjoys a Schnauzer on rye at least three times a week.

Which is exactly why I love YouTube. The TVB may not want you to see the ad, but I sure do. So feast your eyes on this wonderful piece of advertising genius (and leave the puppy feasting to the critics).

Update: If any of you want to let Jim Patterson know that his verdict regarding this ad is hogwash, you can email him at the address I found on this page of the TVB's website. And please, be civil. You don't want a black soul too.

Quirkless Quirkleby

2007-03-13T17:53:00.000-05:00

For the record, I have no quirks. I am completely quirkless. And before any of you try to argue that, "Nuh uh, you do too have quirks! I've seen em," please take into account that the quirks in question are those of the person for whom I am an alter ego. He's a quirked-up mess.

That's one of the benefits of being an alter ego. You get to decide exactly who or what you want to be. You get to embrace the people you like and rebuke those you don't. It's an amazing little way to live life. It's really quite cool. Plus, as an alter ego, you get to do all kinds of things that normal people can only dream of doing.

For example, some of you may be wondering why I haven't posted in over a month. The truth of the matter is that I've been out pillaging, and loving it so much that posting hasn't seemed very exciting. Then again, not too many things are as exciting as pillaging. In this day and age, pillaging has become somewhat of an elite form or recreation. I mean, who really gets to pillage anymore? Not normal people, that's for sure. Maybe maniacs and heathens will pillage on occasion, but the rest of the sane world usually stops them before they get too far. No way could they ever enjoy a solid month of unrestricted plunder. (I have not, mind you, been doing any raping, because that's just wrong even if you are a made-up person. The Rules does not endorse raping of any kind.)

So you see, if you're looking for quirks, you won't find any here, so go find them on other people's blogs (although, given my limited readership, you probably already have). And don't worry, I haven't given up posting. In fact, I've got a few super special posts in the works. So sit tight and stay tuned, because The Rules rules. Yes.

Personal Hygiene: An Introspective

2007-02-05T13:24:00.000-06:00

Just one of the many hilarious videos I found last night while not watching the Mediocre Bowl.

A Sickness Haiku

2007-02-02T23:28:00.000-06:00

Mucus flows freely
I pray for solid boogers
Please send more Puffs Plus

One Word

2007-01-22T15:17:00.000-06:00

Hasenpfeffer

All I Want For Christmas

2006-12-12T14:35:00.000-06:00

If musical ringtones are of the Devil, why are there always more of them around Christmas? Beautiful melodies that warm the heart when sung by Christmas carolers have an uncanny ability to inspire wrath and ire when spewing from the tinny speaker of a cellphone.

If I could make one Christmas wish, it would be that the whole world be instantly educated on cellphone etiquette. Namely, when and where it is appropriate for one's phone to ring out loud, and when it should be on silent or vibrate.

From The Rulebook, chapter 3, section 7:

At the office, your cellphone should not ring out loud unless absolutely necessary. When an audible ring is necessary, it should be a simple ring, never an obnoxious ringtone that disrupts the whole office. Obnoxious ringtones include but are not limited to:
All I Want For Christmas is My Two Front Teeth
Jingle Bells
Hava Nagila
The Entertainer (a.k.a. The Ice Cream Truck Song)
That freakin' Monday Night Football fanfare (Dun dun dun duuuun! Dun dun dun dun duuuun!)

Thank you.

The Passage of Time

2006-12-11T13:44:00.000-06:00

Some of you may have noticed that I haven't posted in a while. Well now I have. So there.

The Suckiness of Cameraphones

2006-11-27T18:02:00.000-06:00

Cameraphones take some truly crap pictures. Here are some of mine.

An Ode to Yesterday

2006-11-11T11:24:00.000-06:00

Warning: If you're easily grossed out, go ahead and skip this one.

A Lethal Combination

2006-11-10T13:38:00.000-06:00

A while back, I made a Macgyver reference. For those of you who are unfamiliar with (or too young to remember) Macgyver, he was an everyday superhero, able to escape from any situation with an amazing combination of household items. If the situation called for it, he could walk into your kitchen and grab a few things, and mix them up in just the right combination. The result could unleash an explosion capable of inspiring shock and awe in countless retirees across the country.

So today I had a Macgyver moment, of sorts. It's a co-worker's birthday today, so we had lunch brought in from Saltgrass Steakhouse. And I cleaned my plate. 7 oz. filet mignon, medium rare, grilled shrimp, mashed potatoes, and salad with bleu cheese dressing. Yum! But somehow the conversation after lunch turned to swapping worst-pain-I-ever-felt stories. I'm not a total wuss, but I can have a weak stomach if there's reason to (and especially when it's full to the brim). Still, it was bearable.

However, when we left the conference room, a strange odor wafted past my nose. I looked up and saw smoke pouring out of the breakroom, which made it immediately apparent that someone had left her Lean Cuisine in the microwave a bit too long. And then it hit me. I needed fresh air, and FAST!

I went for a walk around the building, but the stench was still lingering in my nostrils, mixing with the still-fresh visions of broken toes, dislocated shoulders, and spinal taps. By the time I got to the far side of the building, my tortured senses had worked their way down to the surf & turf brewing in my belly. In true Macgyver fashion, the three ingredients came together in the perfect combination of gastric volatility.

Sigh. Now I'm hungry.

I Smell Like Puppies

2006-11-09T14:17:00.000-06:00

Today I went to lunch, just like I do every day. Everything about my lunch break was completel normal. Until I got in my car to go back to work.

As I was backing out of my parking space, I noticed an odd smell that wasn't there when I left the office. At first I thought it was wet dog, and even let out a Daddy Warbucks-esque, "Why do I smell WET DOG?" But after a few more sniffs, I knew it wasn't wet dog that I was smelling. It was puppies. And after I got back to the office, I sat down at my desk and realized that the puppy smell was on me.

I'm not particularly offended by puppy smell, I'm just a little perplexed at how my car managed to start smelling like puppies in the fifteen minutes it took me to eat my sandwich. The doors were locked and the windows were cracked (it's an unseasonable 85° outside right now), so I'm pretty sure that no puppies got in my car while it was unattended.

I thought I might just be paranoid and that my hyper-acute olfactory sense was just messing with me. So without explaining why, I asked a trusted co-worker to smell me. He looked at me a little strange and then leaned in and took a whiff.

"Did you get a puppy?" he queried.

Great. I always knew I was part bloodhound, but I never thought that I'd smell like one.

Taco Bueno Secret Identity #2

2006-11-06T13:57:00.000-06:00

Seal It Up

2006-11-02T11:00:00.000-06:00

On a recent trip to the store, I purchased a few items. Among them was a bag of brown sugar (to make eating my oatmeal tolerable), beef jerky (to make Friday night tolerable), and new socks (because socks are better than Tom Cruise). Yet it wasn't until I got home that I made the striking discovery that all three products had something in common: resealable bags.

A resealable zipper on the first two products makes perfect sense. A resealable bag helps keep brown sugar from going stale and it lets you lock away that beef jerky aroma before others smell it and come ask you if they can have some. But the need for a zipper on a bag of socks completely baffled me. I've never had the need to keep socks fresh, nor have I ever had anyone smell my socks and come ask me if they can have one. Such an oddity renders me weak, and only Google can restore my powers. So I set out on an online quest to find the reasoning behind resealable socks.

The first thing I found out is that the zipper bag is made by Zip-Pak. According to their site, the Hanes bag features their webless zipper, which they say is great for cheese, produce, and personal products. I guess socks could be considered personal products, though I wouldn't say they're quite as personal as underwear (which, coincidentally, are also available in a resealable bag). Interesting information, but it still didn't reveal the benefit of resealable socks. So on with the search!

Next thing I came across was a site called This Is Broken, where they review things that are poorly designed or executed. The resealable socks they review are Fruit of the Loom, but the concept is the same. Yet still no explanation as to why. A quick read of the comments there shows that everyone is as confused as I am. I take comfort in not being the only one who is all bent out of shape about this. It makes me feel a little less wierd. In my search, I came across one example after another of bloggers asking the same answerless question.

If I were feeling really enterprising, I would have gone directly to the source (stay tuned for the Lunchables saga, where I did just that), but fortunately someone has already done the dirty work for me. This guy contacted Hanes and their reply was:

The reasealable bags are for consumers to be able to open the bag and bag and view the product.

That's it. That's the reason. I was expecting something grand and exciting, but I guess you can't really get too exciting with crew socks. Lunchables, on the other hand....

How To Waste $14.99

2006-10-31T18:08:00.000-06:00

Good evening, blog reader. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find a way to spend fourteen dollars and ninety-nine cents in a way that is more senseless than buying Mission: Impossible III. Many have failed in this attempt and it will be a true miracle if you succeed.

Many of the unfortunate few who chose to flush, er, pay to see M:i:III in the theaters have said that it was the best of the trilogy. And I'm tempted to believe them. I loved the intrigue of Brian De Palma's original Mission: Impossible, and John Woo's stylization made M:I-2 a joy ride I'll glady take again and again. Two successes in my book that would have normally had me drooling in anticipation for the third installment. But even though the DVD is out today, it will still be a long time before I ever see J.J. Abrams' spin on the franchise.

Let's face it. Tom Cruise has turned into a total whack job. The whole TomKat romance started just as War of the Worlds and Batman Begins were building publicity steam. Coincidence? Possibly, but I don't personally believe it. Then Tom jumped on Oprah's couch. Katie converted to Scientology. Tom publicly ripped on Brooke Shields for medically treating her postpartum depression. And then there was Baby Suri that nobody saw for months (I'm convinced they spent that time finding a baby to rent for that photo shoot). The string of events surrounding Tom Cruise in the past year and a half is just so freakishly bizarre that even Tom's own employer fired him to gain some distance from his weirdness. Paramount/Viacom Chairman Sumner Redstone actually held Tom's antics liable for M:i:III's poor showing at the box office.

I'm living proof of Redstone's claim, and I know I'm not the only one who boycotted the movie because Tom Cruise is a Fruit Loop. But I'm not stopping there. I intend to boycott the DVD as well, which will really put my principles to the test. I'm a huge home theater buff. I'd rather watch a movie in my wall-rattling surround sound setup than jockey for elbow room in a crowded theater any day. But the only time M:i:III will be disturbing my neighbors is if it's borrowed, downloaded, or on network TV. No way am I giving another dime to Tom or his Kat. Now I don't expect people to join me on my crazy crusades, but if you think Tom is nuts, speak with your wallets and don't give him your money. There are better things to spend it on. Like socks.

I believe this message has already self-destructed.

Taco Bueno Secret Identity #1

2006-10-26T18:05:00.000-05:00

Apparently, my local Taco Bueno wants to get up close and personal. Instead of calling a number when your order is ready, they'd rather call you by name. I could give them my real name, but where's the fun in that?

How To Waste $23.99

2006-10-24T00:02:00.000-05:00

Whoever came up with the idea of selling complete seasons of TV shows on DVD was a marketing wizard. For the networks, it's a chance to generate extra revenue on shows that have already been produced. For the consumers, it's a chance to relive episodes of their favorite sitcoms and catch up on key chapters (or even full seasons) of hit dramas. If it weren't for season two of Lost on DVD, I don't know what I'd do with my Wednesday nights. It's a win-win.

Unless, of course, those consumers are the mindless nerfs who would be dumb enough to shell out twenty-four bucks plus shipping for season two of The Andy Milonakis Show. MTV has put out some truly crap programming over the years, but this one stands proudly at the top of the dung heap as an absolute waste.

Andy Milonakis is a 29 year-old man. Wouldn't know it from the picture, would ya? It's true. He has a congenital growth-hormone condition that makes him look and sound like the pre-adolescent kid he plays on his show. Now, I'll admit that the first episode of The Andy Milonakis Show I ever watched was actually pretty funny. Granted, I was probably pretty blitzed on Dr. Pepper and Meat Lover's pizza, but on nights like that, there's plenty of room for some adolescent humor. So I watched this "kid" walk up to random people on the streets of Brooklyn and say off-the-wall things like, "Oh, I love your hair! Can I have it?" His sketches were so bizarre, they were pretty hilarious. But the next week's episode was exactly the same shtick. And so was the next. I was convinced that this show was just a sub, my term for 30 cheap minutes whose sole purpose is to hold a time slot for a few weeks until the REAL series premiers.

Two seasons later, Andy is still yammering on like the bad date who JUST. WON'T. SHUT. UP.

So if you're really desperate to get a Milonakis fix, check out YouTube instead. Just don't blow it on these DVDs. If that twenty-four bucks is still burning a hole in your pocket, may I suggest some more useful ways to spend it:

Send it to me.
Use it as toilet paper.
Invest in Enron.
Bet it on the Tennessee Titans to win the Super Bowl this year.

Thank you.

The Fox That Rocks

2006-10-23T20:51:00.000-05:00

I like stuff. I dig shiny and new. And there's a certain, stupid thrill that comes from being able to say that I was one of the first to get something. For example, it's not uncommon to find me mingling with the weirdos at Wal-Mart on Monday nights just for the chance get my hands on a new CD release at the stroke of midnight.

So when I heard that Firefox 2 is being released tomorrow, I was excited. And when I discovered a link today where I could get my hands on those precious installation files a day early, I giggled like a schoolboy and got my click on. I just couldn't wait to play with the improved interface, enhanced search box, and built-in spell-checker. Sure, I could have been using one of the test versions for months now, but I much prefer a final, official product. I've been using Firefox 2 for a full day now, and I couldn't be happier.

If you haven't noticed by now, I'm a die-hard Firefox fan. I've been using it since it was a wee baby, still in its beta testing phases, and have had absolutely zero complaints. In the two years that the 'Fox and I have been marching arm in arm across the Interwebs, we've become the best of friends.

Which is why it makes me a bit sad and frightened to see that so many of my other friends are still using Internet Explorer. My logs show that 68% of you are still blindly using IE, while a paltry 23% of you are surfing safely. GASP! Don't you know that going online with IE is the online equivalent of a visit to the Amazon (this one, not this one) without getting immunized first?

If there was ever a time to give Firefox a try, it's right now. It's a quick download, a quicker install, and you can still use Internet Explorer for those pesky sites that are coded for IE only. And if you're thinking, "I don't want to learn how to use something new," have no fear. Using Firefox requires zero learning curve if you can find your way around with IE. Don't be swayed by the hype that Microsoft's latest browser, IE7, has tabbed browsing either. Firefox has had that feature for more than 2 years now, and in a browser that's much safer and less bloated than IE.

So go on. Click on that big, shiny yellow logo. It won't hurt, I PROMISE. Let's all be shiny and new together!

Update (10/24/06 4:22 PM): The guys over at Mozilla are apparently none too happy that bloggers have been linking directly to their FTP servers, simply because the files out there can't be guaranteed to be the final release. At any rate, Firefox 2 is officially in the wild as of just a few minutes ago. GO GET IT!

The Missing Link

2006-10-19T06:25:00.000-05:00

I'm a big fan of DIY. Do-It-Yourself. If it's doable, I'll give it a try. But it has recently come to my attention that I may never be able to make my own candy bars. Why? Nougat.

You see, as I stroll through the aisles of my local grocery store and dictate this post into the voice-recognition computer in my knapsack, nougat is the only ingredient I can't find. Chocolate? There it is. Peanuts? Yes, right there by the beef jerky (which I will pick up for non-candy-making purposes). Oh, and look! Caramel is even in season right now. But I have been up and down every aisle here and nougat is nowhere to be found.

I just can't make a decent candy bar without nougat. All the commercials tout it as an essential part of the candy bar experience, hyping it up with adjectives like fluffy, creamy, and chewy. 3 Musketeers, Milky Way, and Snickers all have it. Even the lowly, old-school Zero Bar is privileged enough to let nougat grace its ingredient list. And yet I can't just go buy some nougat. Disgraceful.

This reminds me of watching MacGyver as a kid. They'd actually show how to make gunpowder while "conveniently" omitting one important ingredient, leaving me no other option than to buy my bullets instead of make them myself. Did you know that MacGyver was sponsored by Winchester's line of rhino ammunition? Of course you didn't. They don't show bullet commercials in prime time.

I'd call for a full blown investigation into this confectionary monopoly, but let's be realistic. The kind of investigators that would take up the nougat cause would probably mess it all up and go after Nougat, the band. And since no one wants to see Australian mandolin players raked over the coals, I'm inclined to let this one go. Still, it would be nice to see some unaffiliated nougat in the stores. Maybe right...here. In this space I just cleared next to the marzipan.

No you di'int!

2006-10-19T06:00:00.000-05:00

Interesting things I've done since my last post:

Rediscovered the small plastic box containing all my baby teeth, once believed to be in the possesion of the Tooth Fairy.
Had my car in the shop to undergo its seventh bearing replacement in five years.
Spilled an entire bowl of tomato soup all down my front.
Drove to a neighboring state for no reason other than to be able to say, "I've been in 2 states today."
Wore a cowboy hat to Wal-Mart at 1:00 a.m. and said, "Howdy!" to every stocker in the store.

Okay, I made that last one up. But it's on my to-do list, I swear.

A Warning to All Visitors

2006-10-12T15:06:00.000-05:00

Don't come over here. My cubicle smells like fart.

Nobody likes a racist

2006-10-08T06:00:00.000-05:00

If you haven't yet heard of Flight of the Conchords, I highly recommend checking them out.

A Phoenix From the Ashes

2006-10-08T04:24:00.000-05:00

"Everybody's doing it? That's your excuse?! Well if everybody was jumping off bridges, would you do that too?"

"No, Mom, of course not. But jumping off bridges is different." And it is. Blogging doesn't kill, bridges do. And since my blog isn't about bridges, then there's no harm in making my comeback.

I used to have a blog called Un-Unwritten Rules, hosted right here on Blogspot. It revolved around the concept of putting in writing all the unwritten rules that normal humans just seem to know by instinct for the benefit of the abnormal humans who are apparently unaware of said rules. But it wasn't long before I started to feel like the only rules I could come up with had to do with invasions of personal space. Finally one day, in a fit of creative impulsiveness, I deleted my blog. Boom! Gone!

Uh, almost...

See, along the way I had opted to upgrade to the Blogger Beta. I had gone for bigger and better. And the ominous warning that I would not be able to go back once I upgraded did not deter me. After upgrading, I had a fresh new login and new freedom in customizing my template. All was blissful. Until I deleted my blog.

Everything I had posted after I upgraded disappeared into the ether, as though it had never existed. But anything I had posted prior to upgrading was still there, and for all intents and purposes, it was carved in stone. I couldn't add to it because my old login didn't work anymore, and I couldn't delete it because, according to Blogger, it had already been deleted. But my sitemeter account showed that people were still going there. Daily. Repeat customers checking in every few hours just to see if The Rules had put up something new.

Now I'm not one to let things go to my head. Three visitors a day to a dead blog is hardly what you could call a thriving fanbase. But those three visitors were loyal, and so for their sakes, whoever they are, The Rules is back, and The Rules is here to blog.

After all, everybody's doing it.

Update: It only took a quick email to The Blogger Team. Within 24 hours, Un-Unwritten Rules was gone. I wish I had at least saved the couple of posts that were there so I could recreate them here, but alas. I'll just have to see if I can recreate their greatness here.