(Notes from me hitting the road, the air and possibly a bottle to reach Analheim, CA.)
This morning found the world's worst traveler on a plane headed for California. I have not packed a mental, this trip was for business, not a vacation sojourn. I never did manage to follow that old advice of 'Go West young man'. I was not alone on this trip, as my boss was traveling as well.
As is typical for me, no trip ever starts off without some insanity:
Sleepless freaking night, knowing i am going to be up early, and getting on an aeroplane.
Typical last second running (Perhaps it is 'The Runs from the Border'.) amok.
The longer than Dolph Lundgren line at the Aerodrome.
Rain or Snow? You bet there is freaking some shxt coming from the sky when Johnny has to fly some...place.
Have I ever mentioned how much I despise flying? How much I would rather face a horde/legion/cohort of all kinds of baddies? Facing them with nothing but a lit cigarette, and a bottle for of piss and vinegar. I would even stare down a barrel of a mushy movie marathon with as many people who wanted to restrain me and listen to me whine at full velocity.
Okay, before anyone decides to accuse me of some unprintable thing, let me regress.
Since no flying experience for me is incomplete without some version of panic, I received my dose on the way into landing in Denver. Coming in, it was extremely inky (Soupy, or perhaps seriously foggy is the easier way to put it.) with visibility real low. During decent and approach in this, the plane suddenly poured on the coal and went up. This scared the pants off me in the figurative sense, as the plane went around for another go. We landed on try two, with no more mishap than my boss most likely getting a chuckle from me attempting to conceal my extreme displeasure.
Hell, and I certain the lot of you freaks are laughing your nads or ovaries off at that image. Okay, and the fact I am whinging like a champion.
I know I may sound morbid. I like to think I hit brooding and stopped. Perhaps this marks an improvement of my temperament, or the fatigue caught me and pushed me to be 'mellow'. Difficult determine is, complex thoughts such.
As I write this, I suffered a small 'sweaty' moment. (Not that kind you flaming perverts. You all need to bleach your minds. It is nearly Christmas for the love of Twinkies!) I thought I had dropped my almighty flippy phone whilst on the plane. I spent a good five or so minutes frenetically and frantically trying to look for it in the sardine can of a plane. All my effort would be for naught, as it dawned on me the bloody thing was folded over my shirt collar.
Jet lag, as I had forgotten, is a total wench. I was sleepy with my boss rented the vehicle we have, tired when we went to the store to pick up stuff, but not tired now. My brain says it is late, the clock says it is early and my body is out to a late supper it seems.
So in short, I came, I saw, my brain forfeit.
01 December, 2018
27 November, 2018
Side Step...John, The New Cell Phone Possibility, and Batteries
As you may know, I am pondering a new phone. Not just a new phone mind, but a 'smartphone'. You know the type, as many of you have had one incarnation or another for quite a number of years. The kind I have avoided for years as a point of fact. I am pretty sure a friend (Mr. Ed I do believe.) once said I would have a flip phone at the Apocalypse. Maybe he said something about me crying if I could no longer get one. Maybe I do not remember what he said actually.
Regardless of what or who or when or whatever happened to be said, trying to find a phone I can live with has been 'trying'. Not just because I am a Luddite in a Fedora. Not just because I am picky. Not just because I despise crApple productions with a passion, or think Google is the Divil. (And yes, I know Blogger is run by the Evil of Google. Little did I know then what I had signed up for.) Not just because I am the (Pick your own adjective here) of oddball and old technology.
Put simply, I am a simple man with simple needs.
So after soliciting opinions, thoughts, smartarse comments from every corner, I finally picked out two contenders for the (Far from)coveted title of 'John's First Not Flip Phone'. One was the Blackberry Key2 LE, which is actually made by TCL and is a Hemorrhoid (Android) based phone. The another was another Roid (Android) based phone, the Sony Xperia XA2. Both were going to be costly, as neither is offered through Verizon, so i would have to buy outright. I had the money to buy either, so that was a non factor in this.
After much research, I have hit an apparent snag in the decision making progress. Not the price, nor colour, nor availability is the reason behind the pause in the headlong plunge for a new phone. It is a more simple reason, one I am sure some of you will find absurd for a number of reasons, but as you will see, is something I always consider.
The battery.
Regardless of what or who or when or whatever happened to be said, trying to find a phone I can live with has been 'trying'. Not just because I am a Luddite in a Fedora. Not just because I am picky. Not just because I despise crApple productions with a passion, or think Google is the Divil. (And yes, I know Blogger is run by the Evil of Google. Little did I know then what I had signed up for.) Not just because I am the (Pick your own adjective here) of oddball and old technology.
Put simply, I am a simple man with simple needs.
So after soliciting opinions, thoughts, smartarse comments from every corner, I finally picked out two contenders for the (Far from)coveted title of 'John's First Not Flip Phone'. One was the Blackberry Key2 LE, which is actually made by TCL and is a Hemorrhoid (Android) based phone. The another was another Roid (Android) based phone, the Sony Xperia XA2. Both were going to be costly, as neither is offered through Verizon, so i would have to buy outright. I had the money to buy either, so that was a non factor in this.
After much research, I have hit an apparent snag in the decision making progress. Not the price, nor colour, nor availability is the reason behind the pause in the headlong plunge for a new phone. It is a more simple reason, one I am sure some of you will find absurd for a number of reasons, but as you will see, is something I always consider.
The battery.
As in, needing the full map to Tutankhamun's treasure, plus Cliff's Notes and appropriate digging tools just to change a bloody battery.
Yes, you are reading that: Changing the unprintable battery on either phone I liked is an exercise in insanity.
Yes, you are reading that: Changing the unprintable battery on either phone I liked is an exercise in insanity.
Needing to use a heat gun, and picks/pieces to pry a phone apart is a problem in my book. Needing to take a phone nearly to bits/fully to bits is also a problem in my mind. I know I am crazy, and I know I over analyse things galore, but experience, as detailed below explains my (Probable lack of)logic for this being an issue.
One - I have had phones were the battery was a dud, either from the get go, or not too long into having the phone. At one point, Verizon had a whole batch of batteries that were bad, and had to go through two different batteries before getting one that was not bad.
One - I have had phones were the battery was a dud, either from the get go, or not too long into having the phone. At one point, Verizon had a whole batch of batteries that were bad, and had to go through two different batteries before getting one that was not bad.
Two - I have had phones that I used longer than the battery decided to have life. never in all the years i have had a cell phone has a battery survived for more than two years. The flippy LG Revere 3 I have had since June 2016 is a prime example, as it could use a new battery.
Regardless of the reason for the battery replacement, I was able to pop a cover off, pull a battery out, put another in and pop the cover back on.
So, just for a recap, to change the battery involved:
So, just for a recap, to change the battery involved:
No heat guns.
No breaking a seal of glue around the phone.
No hoping you did not break an antenna, or something else.
No wondering how you were getting the phone back together again.
No sending it/taking said phone someplace to pay money for the privilege of someone replacing the battery for you.
Let me put my logic into a little different focus:
I randomly checked for a replacement battery for a Samsung Galaxy S8 Plus.
I found a battery for $10 from a place online. (https://www.unionrepair.com/replacement-for-samsung-galaxy-s8-plus-battery.html)
From Batteries + Bulbs, which you can walk into for things, such as battery replacement for a cell phone, you would pay $69.99 for the battery and the install. (https://www.batteriesplus.com/battery/cell-phone/samsung/galaxy-s8-plus/galaxy-s8-plus/drc50261)
Basically, this is $60.00 additional just to get a new battery into a phone.
I know, perhaps I am making something of nothing. But for me, I never just throw something out because it is no longer trendy, or because it needs something simple replaced/repaired that I can do/should be able to do myself. It should not be rocket science/treasure hunting/paying a sizeable chunk of change to someone, just to change a battery.
Picture it this way, if you would indulge me: Imagine your TV/Cable/Entertainment Center remote being like this. Would that make sense?
I apologise for the length of this rant. I suspect most of you are looking for the number of the 'loony bin wagon' to come get me. I know I am dealing in probabilities and the hypothetical, but having gone through it, it is something to consider. If someone finds I am wrong in my thoughts, please let me know so I can take a look. I do have one final thought of absurdity concerning this:
Thinking of it, I'd be better off with a crApple iPorn, as I already know to expect this kind of shxt from the Temple of Jobs. If that does not define some sort of irony, I have little idea what may.
29 April, 2018
Side Step...John, the Business Trip, and Some Other (Bacon) Bits, Round Two and Three
(Since Round Two and Three are somewhat brief, combined you will find here.)
(Round two of the saga John, the Business Trip and Some Other Bits. This details my thoughts of being in the air and on an airplane, both of which I take with a morbid amusement. Fair Warning: Offer void in Montana and California. Read at your own risk of raging flatulence or active hiccup fits.)
Boarding the plane came and went sans much ado. Massive relief washed over me upon seeing that I would not be reliving the 'Spirit Airlines Extra Small Sardine Can' incident of last year. I am referring to the (total) lack of leg room I had on the way to Bore-lando last year. I thought I was going to blow both knees out on that trip.
In a moment of seriousness, I did give myself a moment of fright upon boarding. When I sat in my seat at the window, I did not notice where exactly I was. I only noticed that I was right next to an engine after we started rolling. As we all know, in the very recent past someone died due to an engine explosion on a Southwest flight. This loomed in my mind as I began snapping some of my craptastic photos.
I am not a fan of gimicky gadgets, but I hammered out my notes for this posting on an iPoo'd. Detest crApple products I do, but for being in a tight space, the size was a gem. I am an old school sod, so I prefer an actual keyboard, but it worked good enough for my hot (steaming) mess of notes I took to amuse myself whilst flying.
As we continued on, I had a good chuckle at the amount of electronics I was lugging about. The list is a long one, leading me to feel more like someone heading to a hacker con. I reasoned I could probably conduct an orbital launch from where ever I found myself parked.
As we made final approach to Snotlanta, one last thought rolled down the alley of my mind. Certain am I by now you dear reader, have determined a fair amount of doubt in my level of sanity. A good thing, as it leads to another psychological concept: Compensation syndrome. No, not that one. Egad, not that one either you dirty minded scary people. A coping mechanism for my aforementioned fear and distaste. Tormenting those whom dare read this (dis)missive with the randomness of me not screaming for Klondike bars, or why my plans for the conquest of Mars remained unrealised.
(Round three of the saga John, the Business Trip and Some Other Bits. Ric Flair Warning: Wooooooo!)
Unlike last year, I did not arrive at a destination alone. Our Marketing Manager flew on the same flight, which was fantastic, as someone knew where to go. Directions...hate me do they. An added bonus: Snotlanta did not boil the eyebrows off me upon arrival. Last year's trip to Bore-lando resembled oven temperatures, nearly setting my hair aflame.
The report for today is rather short, as it involves a good deal of walking:
-Walking all over the airport in search of transport.
-Walking to acquire food
-Eating said food and waiting to check in
-Marching first several blocks outside to locate the trade show site to register.
-Marching through several buildings finding an over the land route. (I should have made a map, since my terrible sense of direction may get me into South Carolina.)
-Meeting my good friend Miles, and us marching along and talking all kinds of randomness, from lessons in surveying to concepts of reality.
Tomorrow, like those pesky Redcoats, are coming. You may return to your regularly scheduled insanity, shenanigans, freaky things you naughty people do. Please do not tell me, I had a capital dinner and would like to keep it down.
(Round two of the saga John, the Business Trip and Some Other Bits. This details my thoughts of being in the air and on an airplane, both of which I take with a morbid amusement. Fair Warning: Offer void in Montana and California. Read at your own risk of raging flatulence or active hiccup fits.)
Boarding the plane came and went sans much ado. Massive relief washed over me upon seeing that I would not be reliving the 'Spirit Airlines Extra Small Sardine Can' incident of last year. I am referring to the (total) lack of leg room I had on the way to Bore-lando last year. I thought I was going to blow both knees out on that trip.
In a moment of seriousness, I did give myself a moment of fright upon boarding. When I sat in my seat at the window, I did not notice where exactly I was. I only noticed that I was right next to an engine after we started rolling. As we all know, in the very recent past someone died due to an engine explosion on a Southwest flight. This loomed in my mind as I began snapping some of my craptastic photos.
I am not a fan of gimicky gadgets, but I hammered out my notes for this posting on an iPoo'd. Detest crApple products I do, but for being in a tight space, the size was a gem. I am an old school sod, so I prefer an actual keyboard, but it worked good enough for my hot (steaming) mess of notes I took to amuse myself whilst flying.
As we continued on, I had a good chuckle at the amount of electronics I was lugging about. The list is a long one, leading me to feel more like someone heading to a hacker con. I reasoned I could probably conduct an orbital launch from where ever I found myself parked.
As we made final approach to Snotlanta, one last thought rolled down the alley of my mind. Certain am I by now you dear reader, have determined a fair amount of doubt in my level of sanity. A good thing, as it leads to another psychological concept: Compensation syndrome. No, not that one. Egad, not that one either you dirty minded scary people. A coping mechanism for my aforementioned fear and distaste. Tormenting those whom dare read this (dis)missive with the randomness of me not screaming for Klondike bars, or why my plans for the conquest of Mars remained unrealised.
(Round three of the saga John, the Business Trip and Some Other Bits. Ric Flair Warning: Wooooooo!)
Unlike last year, I did not arrive at a destination alone. Our Marketing Manager flew on the same flight, which was fantastic, as someone knew where to go. Directions...hate me do they. An added bonus: Snotlanta did not boil the eyebrows off me upon arrival. Last year's trip to Bore-lando resembled oven temperatures, nearly setting my hair aflame.
The report for today is rather short, as it involves a good deal of walking:
-Walking all over the airport in search of transport.
-Walking to acquire food
-Eating said food and waiting to check in
-Marching first several blocks outside to locate the trade show site to register.
-Marching through several buildings finding an over the land route. (I should have made a map, since my terrible sense of direction may get me into South Carolina.)
-Meeting my good friend Miles, and us marching along and talking all kinds of randomness, from lessons in surveying to concepts of reality.
Tomorrow, like those pesky Redcoats, are coming. You may return to your regularly scheduled insanity, shenanigans, freaky things you naughty people do. Please do not tell me, I had a capital dinner and would like to keep it down.
Side Step...John, the Business Trip, and Some Other Bits, Round One
(I know it has been an unprintable long time since I have remotely written anything. Sadly, Life has just been a bit much, and my thoughts dashed because of it. However, in the spirit of Chaos and Insanity fueled by asses of Fi-YAH! powered eggs, I did decide to write this little thing, for entertainment. If there are small children nearby, send them away. If you are weak of stomach, run screaming and find some Pepto Abysmal. Thank you for your patronage.)
Once again, I find myself flying. It is, yet again, for business. Generally speaking, it is harder to get me to fly than to get a miser to part with a few pence. Actually, you have better odds against a Kodiak with flaming hemorrhoids armed with a New Kids on the Block album. But I agreed to do this one, since I am a nice guy...okay, I am just a putz.
Some of you reading this know all too well my extreme distaste for flying. I am mortally terrified of about four things in this life, and heights happens to be one of them. I am pissy on ladders and roofs, so you can only imagine how much the thought of tens of thousands of feet in the air makes me joyous. The only thing with the potential to make it worse: Being attacked by flying Twinkies whilst on ye olde aeroplane.
One good thing about this trip: I do not have to get up before the Dawn's crack of ass. The last two times had me up at times I normally go to bed. This is a good thing, as I am not doing a full on George Romero inspired tribute for once. No moaning, drooling, looking for (Chilled Monkey) brains or anything else the Society for Public Decency might want to hunt me down for.
As I am writing this part, I am sitting in the Pittsburgh International Airport, waiting. In true 'John is a paranoid sod' (lack of) fashion, I arrived with plenty of time to spare. Hence, why I decided to get an early start on this one, since it spares me from focusing fully on my lot. In case any of you wonder why I go out of my way to write this stuff, it is to compensate for my mortal (Kombat!) fear of heights/flying. Anyone needing to do a field case for a psychology project, you can use me for it.
As I find myself looking out the windows, it is currently a overcast and gray Pittsburgh day. This is better than the (Holy Shit Batman) early morning flight I took in 2012, when it was snowing and sleeting like all the furies. I remember that morning well, as it was my first flight in 22 years. But I digress, and potentially regress in a nifty 2 for 1 special. So in short, once again, I find myself willing the weather to be good enough to not make me want to reenact Major Kong's last ride. (Nothing dirty you freaky people. I see you there, PUT THAT AWAY!)
I have never been to Snotlanta. I have heard of it, seen pictures, read some history on it. Otherwise, I know exceeding little about it, other than I know a couple of people who live there. And that they have a football team. And a baseball team. And it is the home base of Ted Turner, who owned (amongst other things.) the WCW.
I am not going to get to see any sites, or sights sadly, as I am going down for a business trip. I am certain most of us are familiar with the format, so no need to dive into that one. I do expect this one to have me running amok a great deal more. Perhaps I may lose a few pounds, or hairs instead.
Since I mentioned I can be used for a psychology case study, I should add a comment about my lack of patience. Yes, I know I bloody well got here early. Yes I know my paranoia made me do it. Yes, I am most likely whining. However, my notorious lack of patience means waiting is like someone raking nails over a chalkboard...in stereo...with the Bavarian Burping AND Farting Choirs as accompaniment. Before you ask, exaggerate I do not.
Boarding time is approaching a bit as I look, so this missive will continue.
Once again, I find myself flying. It is, yet again, for business. Generally speaking, it is harder to get me to fly than to get a miser to part with a few pence. Actually, you have better odds against a Kodiak with flaming hemorrhoids armed with a New Kids on the Block album. But I agreed to do this one, since I am a nice guy...okay, I am just a putz.
Some of you reading this know all too well my extreme distaste for flying. I am mortally terrified of about four things in this life, and heights happens to be one of them. I am pissy on ladders and roofs, so you can only imagine how much the thought of tens of thousands of feet in the air makes me joyous. The only thing with the potential to make it worse: Being attacked by flying Twinkies whilst on ye olde aeroplane.
One good thing about this trip: I do not have to get up before the Dawn's crack of ass. The last two times had me up at times I normally go to bed. This is a good thing, as I am not doing a full on George Romero inspired tribute for once. No moaning, drooling, looking for (Chilled Monkey) brains or anything else the Society for Public Decency might want to hunt me down for.
As I am writing this part, I am sitting in the Pittsburgh International Airport, waiting. In true 'John is a paranoid sod' (lack of) fashion, I arrived with plenty of time to spare. Hence, why I decided to get an early start on this one, since it spares me from focusing fully on my lot. In case any of you wonder why I go out of my way to write this stuff, it is to compensate for my mortal (Kombat!) fear of heights/flying. Anyone needing to do a field case for a psychology project, you can use me for it.
As I find myself looking out the windows, it is currently a overcast and gray Pittsburgh day. This is better than the (Holy Shit Batman) early morning flight I took in 2012, when it was snowing and sleeting like all the furies. I remember that morning well, as it was my first flight in 22 years. But I digress, and potentially regress in a nifty 2 for 1 special. So in short, once again, I find myself willing the weather to be good enough to not make me want to reenact Major Kong's last ride. (Nothing dirty you freaky people. I see you there, PUT THAT AWAY!)
I have never been to Snotlanta. I have heard of it, seen pictures, read some history on it. Otherwise, I know exceeding little about it, other than I know a couple of people who live there. And that they have a football team. And a baseball team. And it is the home base of Ted Turner, who owned (amongst other things.) the WCW.
I am not going to get to see any sites, or sights sadly, as I am going down for a business trip. I am certain most of us are familiar with the format, so no need to dive into that one. I do expect this one to have me running amok a great deal more. Perhaps I may lose a few pounds, or hairs instead.
Since I mentioned I can be used for a psychology case study, I should add a comment about my lack of patience. Yes, I know I bloody well got here early. Yes I know my paranoia made me do it. Yes, I am most likely whining. However, my notorious lack of patience means waiting is like someone raking nails over a chalkboard...in stereo...with the Bavarian Burping AND Farting Choirs as accompaniment. Before you ask, exaggerate I do not.
Boarding time is approaching a bit as I look, so this missive will continue.
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