I once had a friend describe the moment before talking to girls and tell me it felt like the moment before you jump off a ledge. Talking to girls does not feel like jumping off a ledge to me. You know what feels like jumping off a ledge? Jumping off a fucking ledge. I've jumped into a swimming pool, and off of a giant bridge, and off of the Stratosphere in vegas, so I think my ledge-jumping credentials should adequate for at least knowing the feeling.
You know what also feels like jumping off a ledge? Quitting your job. Not hopping to the next one; I'm talking about quitting. Not sure its in my best interest, but I seriously think about it every day now.
Here's a recap:
I jumped to Microsoft because my Amazon job sucked balls. I hated it so much at amazon that I was willing to forgo an amount of unvested stock that...at today's prices makes me wish I had a higher tolerance for shitty work.
At Microsoft, I was put on a piece of shit software that was eerily similar to the shit I owned at Amazon, except that this time we didn't have any of the operations gear, and I wasn't about to spend nights and weekends trying to re-invent a deployment system. The other team member was a senior engineer with a love for over-designing things. I once saw him solve a small one-liner problem by creating an entirely new class.
Then I switched to a project related to Android. Why? Because Android is fucking awesome. Unlike iOS, you don't get fucked up the ass, and unlike Windows Phone, people actually use it. Unfortunately, the android project we wrote...was written by a handful of barely trained monkeys that do not understand Java language. Yeah, I know Java: the language everybody loves to hate. But if you're gonna use it, at least learn the damn language. So I now own steaming pile of spaghetti. I've been here before. This was probably the second worst code I've seen (after something I witnessed as a research programmer) but it was a close second. Like some of the things these guys did should be illegal. So I started fixing the critical issues. Except...well, apparently we only have one customer for this android project. Also, we sort of just handed the entire pile of shit over to them--the actual source code--and let them do whatever they want with it, without consulting us, even though their changes are stupid and conflict with our roadmap for the project. I apparently own merging the codebases, which means that my well-meaning efforts to remove some of the worst problems are coming back to haunt me, because our customer didn't remove any of the problems, and I have to take their changes.
Then, priorities change. I'm shoved onto another project that temporarily become more important. I'm on the project long enough to forget what I was doing on Android. Then back on Android. I can no longer access our customers SVN repository, and they drag their feet giving me access for months. I'm granted access again days before a deadline where we threatened to start slipping the completion date a day for each day I still didn't have access. I'm not the only one harmed by this prioritization bullshit. The entire team is getting randomized because no one knows about these super important projects that appear out of nowhere. Project managers pay lip service by pretending to agree that the context switching is an issue, but they apparently haven't even discussed this with senior management (we find this out the hard way by accidentally asking senior management a real question during a Q&A). Then, priorities change again, and I'm off the android project. In fact, the android project may be permanently shelved, because our 1 customer no longer wants it, and the company had no plans to release it because they are too short sighted to realize that if they want the market to use their software, they can't just stick their heads up their asses and hope people buy windows phone.
Organizationally, something weird has also happened with our management. We used to have this one guy who was effectively our leader. He owned everything end to end, and he had a singular vision for how it would work, and he could make even a jaded person who hates ads like me excited about the future of advertising (mostly, because we were going to take it to a place that doesn't piss of consumers). We'll call him Mr Badass. I was not impressed with him on a personal level, but I respected him professionally. Then, and now we're getting to the part that I only know by gossip, pieces of his kingdom were stripped away and given to other managers in different locations. It happened over time and for no good reason--probably politics. Also, some kind of guy came in near the top, from a tech company that no one cares about anymore, and then suddenly a bunch of people he knew happened to get hired from the same company, and now we have an enormously bloated management chain. Mr Badass promptly left. So instead of having one guy runs things well, we have lots of people running things poorly.
The message I'm getting, especially regarding the constant priority switching, and the incredibly poor decisions (who hands their fucking source code to a customer?), is that this is business as usual, and dealing with it is what I collect a paycheck for.
So, I think its time to stop collecting my paycheck.
And this is where the ledge jumping comes in. What exactly do I do next? Another job in Seattle? Another job in Philly? Live on savings while I develop the skin care thing? Should I keep my M$ job, tough it out, and stop bitching at least until I pay my car off or something? So many questions, and none of the answers are perfect.
If I could choose the perfect job, I think it would be me and a small, tight team of amazing programmers, writing niche software to solve highly specific problems in various industries--industries that large companies don't invest in because the ROI isn't there to throw hundreds of programmers at the specific problems. Skin care, self storage, real estate...any place with a need for software that isn't well known, because there aren't a lot of badass programmers around. Our small team of programmers would be faster and better than others because we are so small, and don't have to waste time coordinating large teams. And, obviously, because we honed our skills to become experts in small, specific areas of expertise, (i.e. X type of Android applications, etc) as opposed to going wide and being well rounded. Also, we would work hard and fast on interesting projects and never have to do stupid shit because of some large companies corporate strategy. In effect, we would be the programmer's version of a glass cannon. We can't do everything, and we probably won't handle industry wide changes well (i.e. no defense), but we are amazingly awesome at lucrative projects for niche industries (high damage).
If this skin care thing makes any money at all, I think that's the direction I want to try.
Or we could just make videogames. I mean, whatever.
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Requiem for a Partnership, Part 4
My business partner talked to our accountant, who basically told her the exact same thing I did. And now she agrees with me.
I will keep you posted. Hopefully, part 5 is where I tell you we signed our operating agreement.
I will keep you posted. Hopefully, part 5 is where I tell you we signed our operating agreement.
Requiem for a Partnership, Part 3
Aaaaaannnnnnnnd we're back. My partner is suddenly no longer comfortable with our arrangement.
Again.
It has been 25 days since our accountant suggested this method of investing, where in addition to both of us funding the company equally as partners, I also take on the role of an outside investor, and invest for a temporary allocation of profits until my investment plus 9% (APR) is paid back. As an investment, its a pretty shitty one. Credit cards pay 20% and have less risk.
My partner thinks I'm being unfair. She says her friends agree with her that as a founder, I should just put more money in, and/or give her an interest free loan. Not a chance. From my point of view, I'm already doing more work than her. She came up with the features. I wrote the specs. A graphic artists that doesn't know how to make graphics for software did the graphics I made the design. I made the rough wireframe. I hired the coders. I wrote the prototypes. I taught the graphic artist how to deal with different screen resolutions and densities.
I told her if she thinks I'm being unfair to her, she should find another person to work with who is willing to do everything I am for only 50% of the ownership. She didn't want to do that.
I then told her that if she doesn't like me making more money than her, then we could find someone else to invest. She didn't want to do that.
I told her we could find a third (or fourth) partner(s) who could bring both skills and money. She didn't want to do that.
What she has done, is given me a complicated counter-proposal for investing that magically comes out to the same dollar amounts going to each of us. Exactly the same. To the dollar. Only it is so silly I don't know how we would explain it to the next round of investors.
I now have to decide if this chick is just nervous because this is her first time starting a company, or if we will just not be able to work together. This is a difficult one for me, as I have never made a decision like this before.
Again.
It has been 25 days since our accountant suggested this method of investing, where in addition to both of us funding the company equally as partners, I also take on the role of an outside investor, and invest for a temporary allocation of profits until my investment plus 9% (APR) is paid back. As an investment, its a pretty shitty one. Credit cards pay 20% and have less risk.
My partner thinks I'm being unfair. She says her friends agree with her that as a founder, I should just put more money in, and/or give her an interest free loan. Not a chance. From my point of view, I'm already doing more work than her. She came up with the features. I wrote the specs. A graphic artists that doesn't know how to make graphics for software did the graphics I made the design. I made the rough wireframe. I hired the coders. I wrote the prototypes. I taught the graphic artist how to deal with different screen resolutions and densities.
I told her if she thinks I'm being unfair to her, she should find another person to work with who is willing to do everything I am for only 50% of the ownership. She didn't want to do that.
I then told her that if she doesn't like me making more money than her, then we could find someone else to invest. She didn't want to do that.
I told her we could find a third (or fourth) partner(s) who could bring both skills and money. She didn't want to do that.
What she has done, is given me a complicated counter-proposal for investing that magically comes out to the same dollar amounts going to each of us. Exactly the same. To the dollar. Only it is so silly I don't know how we would explain it to the next round of investors.
I now have to decide if this chick is just nervous because this is her first time starting a company, or if we will just not be able to work together. This is a difficult one for me, as I have never made a decision like this before.
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Requiem for a Partnership, Part 2
We came to an arrangement. I have been told I am crazy for investing in the company for only 9%. I kind of agree, but I did it anyway.
In other news, went out on a date with an awesome girl last night. I have a feeling this one is not going to blow me off. We'll see. Based on casual observation, the only solution to the girl who just left you is...another girl. That is a terrible state of affairs, like if alcohol was the only cure for hangovers.
In other news, went out on a date with an awesome girl last night. I have a feeling this one is not going to blow me off. We'll see. Based on casual observation, the only solution to the girl who just left you is...another girl. That is a terrible state of affairs, like if alcohol was the only cure for hangovers.
Monday, July 15, 2013
Requiem for a Partnership
My partnership with this skin care girl is hanging by a thread. We are negotiating the operating agreement of our company. She wants the following, which I consider non-negotiable:
1. She wants me to commit to coding the Android version of the product in its entirety, even though all spas use iPads and we only want it for marking, and even though I spend all my time doing partner meetings and dealing with her and specs. For example, I just spent a 4 day weekend not prototyping the cloud sync feature like I needed to, but re-writing some wireframes she did poorly.
2. She doesn't have much money, which is fine. I told her I would front all of the money if I made 9% APR on my investment. This bothers her, as she feels I shouldn't make more money just because I'm the one bankrolling the entire operation. She wants me to just donate my money for free.
3. She wants a 51/49 arrangement of ownership. Normally, I would be perfectly fine with this arrangement. The problem is she wants the 51. Not only is that ridiculous because I believe I'm doing more work, but I've seen how she reacts when we disagree on something and she feels threatened, and I'm certain she is going to want to put it to a vote instead of actually listening to me.
I think our partnership is about to implode. This makes me sad, because I have spent months on this project. The market is there; the technical side is there. It seems like a great opportunity. Also, I will feel sad if she goes off and finds other people to do it with and makes millions of dollars. However, it takes more than that to succeed, and I'm not going to do all this work to escape my corporate masters just to trade them for an emotional one.
Fortunately...I have learned some great lessons. I got some experience dealing with emotional business people. I learned the hard way that if you are going to contract work out, the written specs and wireframes are ridiculously important--they are more important than anything else, and the business people you are working with might not understand what it means to "sign off" on something. They may look at it and say its ok, but you have to go in there and make sure they really understand whether something is missing. They also may not understand that if a feature isn't in the spec, its not going to happen, not even if they mentioned it to you once a few months ago.
AAAAANNNNDDD.....she just responded saying we need to "finalize" our agreement in person. No response to the parts of my email where I carefully laid out the three non negotiable things I won't budge on. So I guess this conversation is going to have to make a few laps before it gets resolved.
1. She wants me to commit to coding the Android version of the product in its entirety, even though all spas use iPads and we only want it for marking, and even though I spend all my time doing partner meetings and dealing with her and specs. For example, I just spent a 4 day weekend not prototyping the cloud sync feature like I needed to, but re-writing some wireframes she did poorly.
2. She doesn't have much money, which is fine. I told her I would front all of the money if I made 9% APR on my investment. This bothers her, as she feels I shouldn't make more money just because I'm the one bankrolling the entire operation. She wants me to just donate my money for free.
3. She wants a 51/49 arrangement of ownership. Normally, I would be perfectly fine with this arrangement. The problem is she wants the 51. Not only is that ridiculous because I believe I'm doing more work, but I've seen how she reacts when we disagree on something and she feels threatened, and I'm certain she is going to want to put it to a vote instead of actually listening to me.
I think our partnership is about to implode. This makes me sad, because I have spent months on this project. The market is there; the technical side is there. It seems like a great opportunity. Also, I will feel sad if she goes off and finds other people to do it with and makes millions of dollars. However, it takes more than that to succeed, and I'm not going to do all this work to escape my corporate masters just to trade them for an emotional one.
Fortunately...I have learned some great lessons. I got some experience dealing with emotional business people. I learned the hard way that if you are going to contract work out, the written specs and wireframes are ridiculously important--they are more important than anything else, and the business people you are working with might not understand what it means to "sign off" on something. They may look at it and say its ok, but you have to go in there and make sure they really understand whether something is missing. They also may not understand that if a feature isn't in the spec, its not going to happen, not even if they mentioned it to you once a few months ago.
AAAAANNNNDDD.....she just responded saying we need to "finalize" our agreement in person. No response to the parts of my email where I carefully laid out the three non negotiable things I won't budge on. So I guess this conversation is going to have to make a few laps before it gets resolved.
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Thursday, July 11, 2013
What's Depressing, Episode 1
You know what's depressing? Seeing a girl that you already slept with appear on Plenty of Fish's "meet me" feature, and realizing she goes in the 'no' column.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
SPAM?
Hey, has anyone seen a spam message like this?
Can you please identify who this picture is claiming to be {name}@us.army.mil ? This is a Federal Offense to pose as a Soldier of the US Army. Please Identify yourself and explain why your pic is on this Soldiers Profile. You can call {number} Immediately to correct this. If not a warrant for your arrest will be made. You can also contact {name}@hotmail.com to correct this.
The strange thing is, googling for that number turned up some guy's personal website, who has the name and the email address.
Wait, I got it: http://www.army.mil/article/97786/
I still don't understand how this scam works; the scammers appear to be asking me to contact another victim instead of themselves. However, since this is likely a scam, I will refrain from replying and telling the person to go fuck himself.
Can you please identify who this picture is claiming to be {name}@us.army.mil ? This is a Federal Offense to pose as a Soldier of the US Army. Please Identify yourself and explain why your pic is on this Soldiers Profile. You can call {number} Immediately to correct this. If not a warrant for your arrest will be made. You can also contact {name}@hotmail.com to correct this.
The strange thing is, googling for that number turned up some guy's personal website, who has the name and the email address.
Wait, I got it: http://www.army.mil/article/97786/
I still don't understand how this scam works; the scammers appear to be asking me to contact another victim instead of themselves. However, since this is likely a scam, I will refrain from replying and telling the person to go fuck himself.
Sunday, July 7, 2013
July Life Plan
1. get the side business to the point where nothing is blocked on me. Then,
2. start doing salsa again. Then,
3. learn to fingerpick Wake Me Up but without growing out gross fingernails. Because Girls. Oh wait...that was the wrong video? Where was the one I saw that said fingerpicking gets you laid? It had the same guy in it. Oh here is it. Their serious and thoughtful treatise on the social...something something here's the link.
The simplicity is the beauty. I have an unusual desire to also learn wonderwall now.
2. start doing salsa again. Then,
3. learn to fingerpick Wake Me Up but without growing out gross fingernails. Because Girls. Oh wait...that was the wrong video? Where was the one I saw that said fingerpicking gets you laid? It had the same guy in it. Oh here is it. Their serious and thoughtful treatise on the social...something something here's the link.
The Downside of KPH
The problem with having a speedo readout in kph and not miles per hour is that tonight I happened to pass R-Place (the ridiculous gay club I frequently allowed myself to be molested at because it was my then-girlfriend's favorite place to dance) because it was between a hot dog stand and the entrance to the highway when, as I was about half way past, it occurred to me that my ex might be in line, and--not learning my lesson from five minutes prior when I turned my head to stare at a girl and realized I could have gotten into an accident doing so--I turned my head and stared at everyone in the line to get into R-Place, even though absolutely no good could come of it, and then saw a white girl with long hair who could possibly have been her and she was with a guy, which made me a sad panda and I flew around the area on the highways cranking the throttle open farther than I've dared before, until I and another car, who was possibly racing me, were blitzing through the tunnel and it felt like my rear wheel was developing a wobble, and I have no idea how fast I was going.
I also have no idea what I'm supposed to do about the wobble. I started skimming through this video but it was too boring to finish.
I can tell you that those kph numbers really go up fast. Like it only takes a few seconds to skip right through the numbers you haven't seen before to the numbers you're not sure you're comfortable seeing.
I'm pretty sure that since I've not over her by now, there is something I am doing wrong. Super wrong. I don't know what it is. I wish there was evidence based science that I could find on what things helps a person move on from a relationship quicker. Like eating at a certain time of day, or fasting, or certain kinds of hobbies, or getting shitfaced a certain number of times, or playing scrabble with strippers, idk. I can't think of any experiment that I can do by myself that would provide data of any value. Every relationship is so different it seems impossible to get a control.
The good news: I went to a haircut place and they fixed my hair. The difference is absolutely astonishing. The girl cutting my hair looked downright annoyed when I told her about trying to cut it myself, so in the future I'm going to leave that part out and make up a story about a disabled third cousin with special needs who is learning to be a barber or something. Such a person would probably still have done a better job than me. Also, for a second it seemed like the girl cutting my hair was trying to get me to ask her out. She asked if I had summer plans and I mentioned wanting to kayak and she made some comment like "I love doing that!" and I felt, for only a second, that I was supposed to ask her out. However, when it comes to someone who is an employee of an establishment, or whatever, I don't feel guilty being cautious. Especially since I need her to cut my hair.
Anyway. The bad news: the girl from PlentyOfFish that I am supposed to have a date with tomorrow isn't texting me back. Maybe she was asleep all night, or on a date with a different guy she met on PlentyOfFish (who I wouldn't be afraid of, because they are all jobless dickbags that live with their parents), but it could be I screwed up my text game. Who knows.
I also have no idea what I'm supposed to do about the wobble. I started skimming through this video but it was too boring to finish.
I can tell you that those kph numbers really go up fast. Like it only takes a few seconds to skip right through the numbers you haven't seen before to the numbers you're not sure you're comfortable seeing.
I'm pretty sure that since I've not over her by now, there is something I am doing wrong. Super wrong. I don't know what it is. I wish there was evidence based science that I could find on what things helps a person move on from a relationship quicker. Like eating at a certain time of day, or fasting, or certain kinds of hobbies, or getting shitfaced a certain number of times, or playing scrabble with strippers, idk. I can't think of any experiment that I can do by myself that would provide data of any value. Every relationship is so different it seems impossible to get a control.
The good news: I went to a haircut place and they fixed my hair. The difference is absolutely astonishing. The girl cutting my hair looked downright annoyed when I told her about trying to cut it myself, so in the future I'm going to leave that part out and make up a story about a disabled third cousin with special needs who is learning to be a barber or something. Such a person would probably still have done a better job than me. Also, for a second it seemed like the girl cutting my hair was trying to get me to ask her out. She asked if I had summer plans and I mentioned wanting to kayak and she made some comment like "I love doing that!" and I felt, for only a second, that I was supposed to ask her out. However, when it comes to someone who is an employee of an establishment, or whatever, I don't feel guilty being cautious. Especially since I need her to cut my hair.
Anyway. The bad news: the girl from PlentyOfFish that I am supposed to have a date with tomorrow isn't texting me back. Maybe she was asleep all night, or on a date with a different guy she met on PlentyOfFish (who I wouldn't be afraid of, because they are all jobless dickbags that live with their parents), but it could be I screwed up my text game. Who knows.
Friday, July 5, 2013
Data Security, or UPS is a Fucking Asshole
A lot of my friends think that I am weird for mostly shipping shit to work and amazon lockers. I began thinking I was weird to, so I started having things shipped to my apartment. Turns out, the delivery guys don't have too much trouble getting in the building, even though I'm not there to let them in myself. I'm guessing they have more than one package to deliver, and another resident (or the office) lets them in.
This breaks down when some asshole requires a signature.
First, it was a $10 usb cable for a samsung galaxy tab that I couldn't find in stores. Naturally, they attempted to deliver it three times and I wasn't there so the only chance was to go pick it up at the depot. I was tempted to let it be returned to the sender out of spite (and hopefully to cost the merchant money, hopefully convincing them that requiring a signature is a poor decision) however I was late for work and wanted a good excuse one day so I picked it up. That was FedEx. Not too bad.
Then comes UPS. Fucking UPS. This package was actually valuable. First, I rescheduled the last delivery to be today, because I had off work, so I was able to sit around all day doing nothing but waiting for a package. I didn't even shower, because the delivery asshat might show up during those twenty minutes.
Periodically, I rechecked the delivery status, only to discover that the final attempt had been made an hour prior to my checking. Strange--I never heard my buzzer. Or knocking. Also: its not even a fucking saturday. I've heard all kinds of nightmare stories about people not getting packages on saturdays--including people who go so far as to actually sit outside their house only to see the truck drive past without stopping. I would have waited outside, but there was absolutely no indication when they were going to attempt to deliver it, and I didn't want to sit around for 12 hours, and, also, the time required to get into the building to use the bathroom or get food would be long enough for the deliveryman to show up, knock twice, and leave. So.
At this point we are still within acceptable levels. Now is where the story becomes infuriating. The website didn't list a place to pick up the package. I started a customer service chat with a rep that took ridiculously long to respond, and they told me I have to sign up for some dumbass program. I don't like typing my real name into things on the internet, and I sure as hell don't like typing both my name and my real address on the internet. Then, these cockbags did that think where you have to have a symbol or a capitol letter in your password. This is a problem because my requirement for passwords is that I don't have to touch the shift key. Also, the dumbass companies that force you to use symbols and number are also the dumbasses that typically put arbitrary limits on your password length that are so low you still can't make a strong password.
Then it got worse. You know those questions your bank uses to verify your identity--the ones asking about your family and previous residences, most likely mined from your credit report? That shit is pretty creepy, but there's not a lot I can do about my credit report and banks using it without becoming super weird paranoid person. However, I think its reasonable to think UPS shouldn't be pulling that data. The more people who can access that information, the less secret it becomes. I am concerned that eventually there will be no more secrets left.
Let me break down which people, I think, can reasonably expected to get my real information:
The best trick, as far as I know, is to set up whatever accounts you need to, and them move. Especially with drivers licenses--those fuckers are all over knowing whether the address you gave them is actually some kind of P.O. box. I even had a guy in Washington's DMV look up the address I gave him with google maps. I was not happy about that. The joke is on them, though: guess who is going to establish a temporary residence in an apartment that rents weekly every time he needs to renew his license? This guy. And I'm not even doing it for the privacy/paranoia anymore. I'm just doing it because I'm pissed they wouldn't let me use my P.O. box.
So, obviously, the next step is to start ordering packages to fictitious names, because fuck UPS.
This will obviously prevent me from picking them up, but hopefully I can start guessing which packages will require a signature, and send those to an amazon locker.
[Edit]
The biggest problem I have with using alias' for anything is thinking up a good one. However, the best alias has been sitting right in front of me: Edward Snowden. We should all use it.
This breaks down when some asshole requires a signature.
First, it was a $10 usb cable for a samsung galaxy tab that I couldn't find in stores. Naturally, they attempted to deliver it three times and I wasn't there so the only chance was to go pick it up at the depot. I was tempted to let it be returned to the sender out of spite (and hopefully to cost the merchant money, hopefully convincing them that requiring a signature is a poor decision) however I was late for work and wanted a good excuse one day so I picked it up. That was FedEx. Not too bad.
Then comes UPS. Fucking UPS. This package was actually valuable. First, I rescheduled the last delivery to be today, because I had off work, so I was able to sit around all day doing nothing but waiting for a package. I didn't even shower, because the delivery asshat might show up during those twenty minutes.
Periodically, I rechecked the delivery status, only to discover that the final attempt had been made an hour prior to my checking. Strange--I never heard my buzzer. Or knocking. Also: its not even a fucking saturday. I've heard all kinds of nightmare stories about people not getting packages on saturdays--including people who go so far as to actually sit outside their house only to see the truck drive past without stopping. I would have waited outside, but there was absolutely no indication when they were going to attempt to deliver it, and I didn't want to sit around for 12 hours, and, also, the time required to get into the building to use the bathroom or get food would be long enough for the deliveryman to show up, knock twice, and leave. So.
At this point we are still within acceptable levels. Now is where the story becomes infuriating. The website didn't list a place to pick up the package. I started a customer service chat with a rep that took ridiculously long to respond, and they told me I have to sign up for some dumbass program. I don't like typing my real name into things on the internet, and I sure as hell don't like typing both my name and my real address on the internet. Then, these cockbags did that think where you have to have a symbol or a capitol letter in your password. This is a problem because my requirement for passwords is that I don't have to touch the shift key. Also, the dumbass companies that force you to use symbols and number are also the dumbasses that typically put arbitrary limits on your password length that are so low you still can't make a strong password.
Then it got worse. You know those questions your bank uses to verify your identity--the ones asking about your family and previous residences, most likely mined from your credit report? That shit is pretty creepy, but there's not a lot I can do about my credit report and banks using it without becoming super weird paranoid person. However, I think its reasonable to think UPS shouldn't be pulling that data. The more people who can access that information, the less secret it becomes. I am concerned that eventually there will be no more secrets left.
Let me break down which people, I think, can reasonably expected to get my real information:
- girls
- friends and family
- attractive, STD-free, female stalkers who ride motorcycles
- fucking NSA
- cell phone providers
- power/sewer/water/gas utilities
- internet providers
- the NSA
- bowling alleys
- creepy stalkers, law enforcement
- UPS and Fedex
- the dickwads at the NSA
- people on reddit
- the department of motor vehicles
- everyone on the internet
- the Federal aviation administration
- the cuntbags at the NSA
- doctors, lawyers, massage therapists, dentists, mechanics
- people I play kickball with
- my employer
- credit card companies, banks, credit unions
- and...the NSA
The best trick, as far as I know, is to set up whatever accounts you need to, and them move. Especially with drivers licenses--those fuckers are all over knowing whether the address you gave them is actually some kind of P.O. box. I even had a guy in Washington's DMV look up the address I gave him with google maps. I was not happy about that. The joke is on them, though: guess who is going to establish a temporary residence in an apartment that rents weekly every time he needs to renew his license? This guy. And I'm not even doing it for the privacy/paranoia anymore. I'm just doing it because I'm pissed they wouldn't let me use my P.O. box.
So, obviously, the next step is to start ordering packages to fictitious names, because fuck UPS.
This will obviously prevent me from picking them up, but hopefully I can start guessing which packages will require a signature, and send those to an amazon locker.
[Edit]
The biggest problem I have with using alias' for anything is thinking up a good one. However, the best alias has been sitting right in front of me: Edward Snowden. We should all use it.
Monday, July 1, 2013
[coding] Unsatisfied, Part 2
You could make the "sharding" piece scale indefinitely by allowing the sharding table redirect to another sharding table. Prevent cycles by assigning each table a number, and require that numbers always increase.
Six to Midnight, Part 2
Seems like I have a choice, between bitching about my dating situation, or changing it, and this time I'm choosing the latter. I know...no long diatribes about...girls or whatever. I don't really remember what I used to write about...I think I was just frustrated because I hated my job at Amazon. Anyway.
Appearances are Everything
So, hair. Fucked that up big time. Or, to be more positive, I elected to do an experiment to find out if it is ever a good idea to cut your own hair (its not) and the results were very conclusive, even with a sample size of one.
Body. I am doing this crazy new workout strategy where I stop exercising when I feel pain. It was a little depressing to see how little activity I must do if I go to the gym every day, (i.e. only 5 miles on the fake bicycle) however my knees no longer feel like they are getting stabbed with hot knives when I walk up stairs. Still have a soda belly, which is disappearing extremely slowly.
Clothing. Yeah...I'm not even going to tackle that yet.
Balls
Kickball. Awesome. Seriously: co-ed sports that people don't take that seriously...where have you been all my life? I mean I tried the sports thing repeatedly in philly..something was off. Maybe I was too shy back then. Maybe it was because there were always lots of old people. Somehow the entire leagues I play in are younger people. Also maybe it helps to join as an individual and be placed on the team of leftovers, where everyone wants to meet people. Oh wait, I know: in philly, I was always trying to play volleyball. Volleyball is not the best sport for meeting people. First of all, too many dudes play. Secondly...well actually that was it. That was the problem.
Today one of the girls on our team decided that four blocks was way to long for me to walk to my bike and gave me a ride from the kickball field to my bike. She emailed me later to tell me that my Falco is awesome. Unfortunately, and I didn't tell her this, but I actually have no idea if Falcos are that awesome or not. So I just read the Wikipedia page on them...and I'm still not sure. Apparently Falco isn't really a sportbike, but more of a "sporty roadster." This is kind of funny, because Wikipedia said my Ninja 250 (which I also bought second hand) was a "sporty standard." I wonder if I'll ever get a true sportbike? All I know is, the first time I saw a Falco it was butt ugly, however mine grew on me. The real question? How would Donald Draper take a compliment on his Italian motorcycle?
Then, tonight, I was putting gas in the bike after just having come back from kickball. I kept my helmet on and just flipped the visor up. I was wearing shorts, because of kickball, and some girl behind me said something like "nice bike...you should wear pants though." In shock, I spun around to flip her off for telling me to wear pants, but stopped myself at the last second because I was suddenly concerned that if I flipped her off she assume I was being a dick just because I'm just an asshole, and not because she told me to wear pants (when I give people the finger, it is very important to me for the recipient to know exactly why). By the time I thought it through and concluded that my fears were ungrounded, she had already turned away and moved on. I've thought about this, and obviously the correct thing to do would have been to give her the finger without looking. That way, they can only assume it was because of telling me to wear pants. I'm going to do that next time.
On a completely unrelated note, I hope to never again ride a motorcycle unless I'm wearing pants. Shorts leave me feeling way to exposed and I nearly burned myself on the frame at least twice.
Digital Love
Dating sites: Craiglist. There was a time, when, instead of going out and meeting people, I tried to meet girls via craigslist. That time was called college, sadly. Yeah, I hung out with a bunch of church people whose idea of parties did not involve three handles of captain (fun fact: chicken is fucking delicious when marinated in Captain Morgan 100 Proof and some italian dressing). I eventually got so good at weeding through the spammers that I found the actual girls that post (who I met in real life). Five years later, the spammers have upped their game. Instead of using the same paragraph over and over again, or trying to spin their bullshit in broken english for fake text speak (lol how r u) they are pushing out ads that are more believable than the ones made by real girls. To make matters worse, the market for girls is so competitive that when men respond to an ad they also flag it as spam simply to block other men from responding. So craigslist's anti-spam measures are steadily being trained to stop and block genuine posts from real girls. OkCupid is also still a waste of time, however a friend is going to help me with some profile pics, and I'll try to get her to help rewrite the words on my profile also. I typically only look at pictures, but it is my understanding that girls actually read the profiles. PlentyOfFish is a little better. A large number of ugly girls, and 2 cute ones, expressed an interested in meeting me. I sent some messages to the cute ones back and forth until both of them blew me off, and for the second time ever I had to cancel a reservation at the "speakeasy" bar (its not a real speakeasy: its not secret and they are clearly obeying liquor laws) near my apartment. Someday, I will take a girl there, and I will sample fun cocktails from the prohibition era. I mean I could take a dude also, but that would be lame. Maybe the fact that those girls blew me off has something to do with my email game...for all I know there was something I was supposed to do or not do, but I no longer have the time or interest to try to guess. I just don't care. Its too easy by comparison to meet girls in real life. It is my understanding that on PlentyOfFish I am mostly competing with broke, jobless dickheads who live with their parents. If these girls can't recognize....blah blah blah something that ends with the phrase "their loss."
Fuck dancing. I just want girls.
My ex girlfriend managed to make me bored of salsa without even going with me...ever. She claimed she liked going, but I got tired of trying to encourage her to go. I admit some of this was my fault for getting is distracted on the way out the door, but this post is only about things that I can blame on her. Anyway, apparently thursday nights are just, you know, so late. Unless of course we are going to the third floor of the gay nightclub, to her favorite spot deep in the back behind the stripper pole. Then thursday nights aren't too late. Anyway, my attempts to get good at salsa, for real, and my inability to find a salsa partner, were also frustrating. Also, the damn private lessons cost me a shit ton of money, and I basically wasted it all because I had no one to go dancing with (and no time to go b/c I was with my gf) and so I just forgot everything I learned. The only thing I remember is the part where I'm apparently doing everything wrong.
I think, instead, I'm going to abandon my quest to actually get good at dancing, and instead just get good at meeting girls while dancing. For those of you who dont salsa, I will inform you: these are very different skills. If you actually like to dance, you probably want to show up at clubs late when the regulars appear, and you wouldn't waste your time on beginner lessons, and you won't have a chance at conversation while you're actually dancing with a girl.
If you care more about girls then dancing, well, that's when you show up early, to catch the girls that just came to the club for the "lesson." In fact you probably want to avoid the regulars...seeing the same old dudes every week is flat out depressing. Also, you don't really need that many skills--there aren't many real salsa moves you can do while talking to a girl anyway. Furthermore, you should be taking classes. Beginner, group classes, all the time.
Except I still don't feel like it. There is something stale about the salsa scene in Seattle. I see the same lame people every night. I went to Vancouver for one fucking night and showed up at a club wearing a tiger hat I'd just bought, and managed to bring a girl back to the hotel. I've been living in Seattle for roughly 1580 nights and that still hasn't happened. Seattle. Fucking. Sucks.
While we're tossing around numbers, its been 45 days since the breakup. Still miss her. I think about her every weekday when I get coffee because that's something we did together. I like to fantasize about running into her and giving her the finger from across the street--or, if she's with her next boyfriend, running into her but being obvious about not acknowledging him as a human being. Every time this happens I force myself to also fantasize about accidentally running into her and smiling and waving, because that's what Good Guy Greg would do, but its never as enjoyable.
I definitely am not as hurt anymore though. I've been trying to figure out at what rate my feelings for her are subsiding, and what a graph of my feelings toward her would look like. They subsided slowly at first, then a little quicker, but now the last traces are slow to leave again. It's definitely not exponential or logarithmic decay. It might be a kind of quadratic decay where the term with the square has a negative in front. Hmm...yeah I'm seeing some polynomial decay functions that resemble how I feel. Its probably one of them. Without an empirical way to measure how I feel (the closest I've gotten is a scale from My Life Sucks to Throwing Recyclables in the Trash Just to Spite Her*) its kind of a moot point.
Probably, the next steps are to actively avoid thinking about her. It will probably be a lot like meditation, except I'm still allowed to think about other things.
*she cared a lot about the environment. Not in a save-the-planet kind of way--probably never heard of a thorium reactor--but more in a sort of what-meaningless-activities-can-i-inconvenience-myself-with-that-will-have-no-effect-on-the-environment. Once, we got in a big fight because she wanted me to put asparagus--a vegetable that does not have a skin that is peeled off--directly into the dirty store basket that was probably not cleaned since...ever. I don't consider myself a germaphobe, but I typically don't put things in my mouth after resting them on dirty shit that strangers might have peed on. She flipped her shit though. I later figured out that it was her ineffective bias against the plastic bag I wanted to put the asparagus in, and I rehearsed a long argument involving a graphic description of a 40-year-old trucker in the bathroom after taco bell but before not washing his hands and using the very basket she was holding. Sadly, I never got a chance to make this argument, but I rehearse it to myself every time I buy asparagus. One day, I fucking hope I will be in the grocery store near some stupid environmental bitch being a cunt to her boyfriend over a plastic bag, and when that day comes, I will tell both of them my made up story about a 40 year old shitstorming trucker that doesn't wash his hands before handling baskets as whole foods.
Appearances are Everything
So, hair. Fucked that up big time. Or, to be more positive, I elected to do an experiment to find out if it is ever a good idea to cut your own hair (its not) and the results were very conclusive, even with a sample size of one.
Body. I am doing this crazy new workout strategy where I stop exercising when I feel pain. It was a little depressing to see how little activity I must do if I go to the gym every day, (i.e. only 5 miles on the fake bicycle) however my knees no longer feel like they are getting stabbed with hot knives when I walk up stairs. Still have a soda belly, which is disappearing extremely slowly.
Clothing. Yeah...I'm not even going to tackle that yet.
Balls
Kickball. Awesome. Seriously: co-ed sports that people don't take that seriously...where have you been all my life? I mean I tried the sports thing repeatedly in philly..something was off. Maybe I was too shy back then. Maybe it was because there were always lots of old people. Somehow the entire leagues I play in are younger people. Also maybe it helps to join as an individual and be placed on the team of leftovers, where everyone wants to meet people. Oh wait, I know: in philly, I was always trying to play volleyball. Volleyball is not the best sport for meeting people. First of all, too many dudes play. Secondly...well actually that was it. That was the problem.
Today one of the girls on our team decided that four blocks was way to long for me to walk to my bike and gave me a ride from the kickball field to my bike. She emailed me later to tell me that my Falco is awesome. Unfortunately, and I didn't tell her this, but I actually have no idea if Falcos are that awesome or not. So I just read the Wikipedia page on them...and I'm still not sure. Apparently Falco isn't really a sportbike, but more of a "sporty roadster." This is kind of funny, because Wikipedia said my Ninja 250 (which I also bought second hand) was a "sporty standard." I wonder if I'll ever get a true sportbike? All I know is, the first time I saw a Falco it was butt ugly, however mine grew on me. The real question? How would Donald Draper take a compliment on his Italian motorcycle?
Then, tonight, I was putting gas in the bike after just having come back from kickball. I kept my helmet on and just flipped the visor up. I was wearing shorts, because of kickball, and some girl behind me said something like "nice bike...you should wear pants though." In shock, I spun around to flip her off for telling me to wear pants, but stopped myself at the last second because I was suddenly concerned that if I flipped her off she assume I was being a dick just because I'm just an asshole, and not because she told me to wear pants (when I give people the finger, it is very important to me for the recipient to know exactly why). By the time I thought it through and concluded that my fears were ungrounded, she had already turned away and moved on. I've thought about this, and obviously the correct thing to do would have been to give her the finger without looking. That way, they can only assume it was because of telling me to wear pants. I'm going to do that next time.
On a completely unrelated note, I hope to never again ride a motorcycle unless I'm wearing pants. Shorts leave me feeling way to exposed and I nearly burned myself on the frame at least twice.
Digital Love
Dating sites: Craiglist. There was a time, when, instead of going out and meeting people, I tried to meet girls via craigslist. That time was called college, sadly. Yeah, I hung out with a bunch of church people whose idea of parties did not involve three handles of captain (fun fact: chicken is fucking delicious when marinated in Captain Morgan 100 Proof and some italian dressing). I eventually got so good at weeding through the spammers that I found the actual girls that post (who I met in real life). Five years later, the spammers have upped their game. Instead of using the same paragraph over and over again, or trying to spin their bullshit in broken english for fake text speak (lol how r u) they are pushing out ads that are more believable than the ones made by real girls. To make matters worse, the market for girls is so competitive that when men respond to an ad they also flag it as spam simply to block other men from responding. So craigslist's anti-spam measures are steadily being trained to stop and block genuine posts from real girls. OkCupid is also still a waste of time, however a friend is going to help me with some profile pics, and I'll try to get her to help rewrite the words on my profile also. I typically only look at pictures, but it is my understanding that girls actually read the profiles. PlentyOfFish is a little better. A large number of ugly girls, and 2 cute ones, expressed an interested in meeting me. I sent some messages to the cute ones back and forth until both of them blew me off, and for the second time ever I had to cancel a reservation at the "speakeasy" bar (its not a real speakeasy: its not secret and they are clearly obeying liquor laws) near my apartment. Someday, I will take a girl there, and I will sample fun cocktails from the prohibition era. I mean I could take a dude also, but that would be lame. Maybe the fact that those girls blew me off has something to do with my email game...for all I know there was something I was supposed to do or not do, but I no longer have the time or interest to try to guess. I just don't care. Its too easy by comparison to meet girls in real life. It is my understanding that on PlentyOfFish I am mostly competing with broke, jobless dickheads who live with their parents. If these girls can't recognize....blah blah blah something that ends with the phrase "their loss."
Fuck dancing. I just want girls.
My ex girlfriend managed to make me bored of salsa without even going with me...ever. She claimed she liked going, but I got tired of trying to encourage her to go. I admit some of this was my fault for getting is distracted on the way out the door, but this post is only about things that I can blame on her. Anyway, apparently thursday nights are just, you know, so late. Unless of course we are going to the third floor of the gay nightclub, to her favorite spot deep in the back behind the stripper pole. Then thursday nights aren't too late. Anyway, my attempts to get good at salsa, for real, and my inability to find a salsa partner, were also frustrating. Also, the damn private lessons cost me a shit ton of money, and I basically wasted it all because I had no one to go dancing with (and no time to go b/c I was with my gf) and so I just forgot everything I learned. The only thing I remember is the part where I'm apparently doing everything wrong.
I think, instead, I'm going to abandon my quest to actually get good at dancing, and instead just get good at meeting girls while dancing. For those of you who dont salsa, I will inform you: these are very different skills. If you actually like to dance, you probably want to show up at clubs late when the regulars appear, and you wouldn't waste your time on beginner lessons, and you won't have a chance at conversation while you're actually dancing with a girl.
If you care more about girls then dancing, well, that's when you show up early, to catch the girls that just came to the club for the "lesson." In fact you probably want to avoid the regulars...seeing the same old dudes every week is flat out depressing. Also, you don't really need that many skills--there aren't many real salsa moves you can do while talking to a girl anyway. Furthermore, you should be taking classes. Beginner, group classes, all the time.
Except I still don't feel like it. There is something stale about the salsa scene in Seattle. I see the same lame people every night. I went to Vancouver for one fucking night and showed up at a club wearing a tiger hat I'd just bought, and managed to bring a girl back to the hotel. I've been living in Seattle for roughly 1580 nights and that still hasn't happened. Seattle. Fucking. Sucks.
While we're tossing around numbers, its been 45 days since the breakup. Still miss her. I think about her every weekday when I get coffee because that's something we did together. I like to fantasize about running into her and giving her the finger from across the street--or, if she's with her next boyfriend, running into her but being obvious about not acknowledging him as a human being. Every time this happens I force myself to also fantasize about accidentally running into her and smiling and waving, because that's what Good Guy Greg would do, but its never as enjoyable.
I definitely am not as hurt anymore though. I've been trying to figure out at what rate my feelings for her are subsiding, and what a graph of my feelings toward her would look like. They subsided slowly at first, then a little quicker, but now the last traces are slow to leave again. It's definitely not exponential or logarithmic decay. It might be a kind of quadratic decay where the term with the square has a negative in front. Hmm...yeah I'm seeing some polynomial decay functions that resemble how I feel. Its probably one of them. Without an empirical way to measure how I feel (the closest I've gotten is a scale from My Life Sucks to Throwing Recyclables in the Trash Just to Spite Her*) its kind of a moot point.
Probably, the next steps are to actively avoid thinking about her. It will probably be a lot like meditation, except I'm still allowed to think about other things.
*she cared a lot about the environment. Not in a save-the-planet kind of way--probably never heard of a thorium reactor--but more in a sort of what-meaningless-activities-can-i-inconvenience-myself-with-that-will-have-no-effect-on-the-environment. Once, we got in a big fight because she wanted me to put asparagus--a vegetable that does not have a skin that is peeled off--directly into the dirty store basket that was probably not cleaned since...ever. I don't consider myself a germaphobe, but I typically don't put things in my mouth after resting them on dirty shit that strangers might have peed on. She flipped her shit though. I later figured out that it was her ineffective bias against the plastic bag I wanted to put the asparagus in, and I rehearsed a long argument involving a graphic description of a 40-year-old trucker in the bathroom after taco bell but before not washing his hands and using the very basket she was holding. Sadly, I never got a chance to make this argument, but I rehearse it to myself every time I buy asparagus. One day, I fucking hope I will be in the grocery store near some stupid environmental bitch being a cunt to her boyfriend over a plastic bag, and when that day comes, I will tell both of them my made up story about a 40 year old shitstorming trucker that doesn't wash his hands before handling baskets as whole foods.
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