Archive for October, 2010

Tech Savvy

So, I recently moved into an apartment-type-living space, which is more like just a house connected to another house on one side.  There was no internet set up yet, and I already had a contract leftover from my previous living space and a router, so I took it upon myself to get the internet set up.  The guys next door wanted to go in on the internet as well, which I figured was a lovely idea.  So, we got it set up and left it unlocked for the time being.

My father set up my internet so, when I lock it, only those whose MAC addresses are on the list can access the WiFi.  I informed the guys next door to give me their MAC addresses so I can lock the WiFi from unwanted intruders.  I left a note on their door and four days later recieved a list back from them.  The only problem?  It included one MAC address for and iPod, and two IP addresses.  In what world would they think that TWO different things are both the right thing?  Normally, I wouldn’t have a problem with it, however, I told them on the note to LOOK IT UP because it is kind of confusing to find it using Windows–on a MAC, it takes approximately three steps.  I know, ’cause J.D. showed me.  I even told them EXACTLY what to google to find out how to find their MAC addresses.  So, I sent the note back, circled the correct MAC address with a note “THIS IS RIGHT” and “THIS IS WRONG” next to the IP addresses, and then told them, again, to look it up.

That was something like three weeks ago.  I still haven’t gotten a reply back.

So, this week, as I was trying to make my way through the internet, and taking occasional breaks from homework to watch some Hulu, I noticed that things were working a bit slowly.  So, I decided to lock the internet.  Then it started working much faster. 🙂

Perhaps this will give them some incentive to get me the right addresses.  Although, now they’ll have to go all the way to the school to find out how to find their MAC addresses.  Silly boys…

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Sometimes, it’s NOT the only good thing that happens after midnight…

Denny’s is well-known amongst college students to be a great place to go around midnight–and only around that time.  It’s just not as great before then.  However, I had an experience last night that I’m not sure how to feel about it.

It began with a trip to St. George with my Guy to visit his friend who was down for the weekend and wanted to hang out.  We met up with him (after a trip to the mall to replace my Guy’s destroyed and over-youthful shoes) at another friend’s house, where we enjoyed watching A Goofy Movie, drinking soda, and throwing water bottles and stuffed animals in Santa hats at one of the other guys there.  We then made our expedition to Denny’s around 11:00.  By this time, the rest of the young men with us and I were very hungry people, and probably would have killed a cow ourselves if it meant us getting our food faster.

We were quickly seated in a booth for six (as that was how many people we had in our party, however, with no offense intended, some in our group seemed of the breed that loved food and should not often be shoved into a booth with more than one other person of their particular interests) and looked over our menus for our meal of choice.  Soon after, our waiter, Tyler, I believe his name was, arrived.  He was of a rather small stature, with blonde hair and rose studs in his ears.  He appeared to be of the breed who ought to still be working in his family’s five-buck-pizza or McDonald’s, but I suppose Denny’s is okay, too.  Everything seemed to be in order as he took our orders–he had originally come just for our drink orders, but we were all already ready to order our meals.  Four of them ordered the slam burger–including Myguy, to my… well.  I don’t agree with all that food being shoved into one’s larges facial orifice–and I ordered an Ultimate Skillet (only after being told they were out of soup after 10).  Tyler even managed to create a chuckle and gain some rapport by jokingly telling our last member, who ordered the all-you-can-eat pancakes, that he expected great things of this young man, and something else about eating at least three plates.

Tyler took our menus and walked away, and we had little idea what interesting things were about to befall our poor table.

The real fun began about five minutes after Tyler had left to take care of our drink orders.  Another waitress was passing by and offered to take our orders, to which we informed her that we had already had our orders taken.  Another five minutes passed.  No drinks.  Finally, another woman approached our table and asked us for our drink orders again.  I thought nothing of it, as when I worked at Dragon Hill, drink orders would occasionally get jumbled up with other drink orders.  We told her and a few minutes later I received my hot cocoa and everyone else received their own various drinks.  Then Tyler returned to re-take our food orders, graciously apologizing about how this was his first day, and he was originally a cook and they had pulled him out that night to wait tables and blah blah blah.  We laughed and told him it was okay–especially me, as I am familiar with how bewildering waiting tables can be.  However, I had no idea it was THIS bewildering, especially when one has been provided with pen and paper to write down our orders.  I wonder what he was doing with the pad the first time he took our orders? I imagine it to look something like this:

Either way, I think he did the same on both tickets because approximately fifteen minutes later, as we were about ready to resort to cannibalism, our table was approached by yet another waiter offering to take our food order, and apologizing profusely for the confusion.  When asked about Tyler, he appeared to be ready to embark on a rant that would likely surpass anything I could write here, but instead continued taking our order and said “I don’t want to say anything bad…” and shut his mouth on the subject with a very uncomfortable chuckle.  It appeared that everyone in the restaurant was in a state of confusion, as this same man who finally seemed capable of getting our order through to the cooks had previously been wandering from table to table with a small tray of beverages (come to think of it, they may have been ours) and a look on his face similar to this:

I lost track of him as he continued wandering around until he came to take our order.  And thus, about ten minutes later, around 12:15, we at last received our food from an angel of a woman named Dee, who did a wonderful job taking care of us and even brought us a caraffe of water and me another cup of hot chocolate.  I could have hugged her had she not been rushing to take care of her own assigned tables.  Instead, I may just name my first child after her.

In the end, we got our drinks for free because all our tickets said “no beverage” on them, and they were “giving away the farm in Tyler’s section tonight because… Well…” and then she left us our receipts before she said something truly passive aggressive.  I think I was the only one to leave a tip, specified to go to Dee.

And that is why I love Denny’s.  Or something like that.

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Yeah… So um… Yeah

Yeah.  It’s been a while since I last posted… I seem to have a bit of problem keeping up with these–mostly due to not being able to finish any thoughts beyond single sentences, which, in my opinion, do not make good blog posts.  Perhaps twitter posts.  Luckily, I made the resolution long ago to never get pulled into such a beast as Twitter.  Even though I’ve been pulled into every other popular social sharing website available.  I feel this semester thus far has been kind of a bloggable experience, but I apologize beforehand–I am not exactly the most pleasant person at the moment.  My friends tell me I need to find a job at a rainbow factory.

Anyway, here is a more recent story from my semester, occurring quite recently… Ah, who am I kidding.  I can’t think of anything right now.  All I’m thinking about is the fact that we don’t get a fall break and I’m going absolutely bonkers.  I sincerely apologize to anybody in my path who I choose to bestow my moodiness on, whether it be my outlandish excitement, bitterness, or dog-gone-tuckered-out-ness.  Luckily for most, they’re only there for one of the four.  My guy, on the other hand, has to suffer through all of it.  Poor guy… But seriously.  No fall break??  What were these people thinking?  I’d like to see the statistics this year, see if it has affected grades at all compared to other schools.  University of Utah is getting a full danged week!  Really??

As you can see, I’m rather bitter about this, which is doubling my other aggravations toward other things, such as poofy hair, over-done makeup, and trucks.  Yes, trucks.  I came home from rehearsal tonight to find a giant, black-hole of a truck in my driveway (my roommate’s boyfriend’s monster, I’m assuming, who I think I’ve only met once, but once I realized he was the one driving the truck, I decided then that I really don’t like him).  I can’t imagine a reason for a college student to be driving a truck like that other than… Over-compensation.  Poor self-image.  I don’t know.  But all I know is that I can’t stand trucks.  And truck PEOPLE.  I once had the misfortune of getting in a conversation with a truck person of the worst kind–I believe the man owned not one, but THREE trucks, all of them louder and bigger and more ridiculous than the previous.  Me, I feel terrible when I drive down the street and my car starts making loud noises that may cause annoyance to the poor souls in the homes I happen to be driving past.  I can’t imagine WHY anybody would feel comfortable driving through a neighborhood at six in the morning with one of those growling monster-like things.

The following is a text-based reenactment of what occurs when I hear said noise.

Me: Tralala I’m enjoying my peaceful music


Me: Oh my goodness there’s the SEMI IN MY HOUSE!!  AND IT WANT TO EAT MY CHILDREN!!


And that’s the best I can do.  In essence, the noise they create is like unto death.  And I don’t understand.  If anyone can provide me with a logical explanation to the draw of driving one of these things every day and scaring the crap out of me, feel free to tell me (of course, there aren’t that many of you, so oh well).

I hate trucks.


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