Logical Logbook

My thoughts are worth billions. My logic will end the world.

Monday, January 30, 2006

There's a juice bar a couple doors down from where I work. Normally, such things as eating at juice bars are considered well below my standards of manly behavior. However, given that I've eaten everything w/in a couple blocks of my office that's suitable to my dietary needs and my unwillingness to trek across the loop in search of sweet, sweet pizza so today something new seemed good and thus began my decent into the health food inferno.

First, this bar is tucked away in the back of a crappy little health food shop so I had to peruse through there before venturing upstairs to the bar. As a rule, when I arrive at such a place I immediately start thinking about how I can turn that stuff into beer. They had a nice selection of honey, agave nectar, interesting dried fruits, some odd organic spices and teas--all of which are potentially useful if I'm willing to spend inflated loop healthfood store prices.

Of course, I can't eat beer ingredients for lunch so I had to venture upstairs to the juice bar. I could actually kind of tolerate the place. It looked much nicer than the dusty downstairs area
and there were tables to sit at where you could eat and converse over that crappy kind of jazz they play at places where people who fancy themselves as intellectuals congregate. The menu consisted of a spattering of typical vegetarian dishes, soups and a bunch of juice. I got one of the specials--veggie burrito, carrot juice and lentil soup.

The veggie burrito was somewhat frightening as they heated it in the microwave and then even more frightening when I saw the thing was on whole wheat tortillas. Who in their right mind used whole wheat tortillas? Seriously. That's just stupid. In the end though it was rather tasty for black beans and rice wrapped in a weird brown shell especially once I put the pico de gallo on there--which was nice because it was actually pico de gallo rather than some crappy-ass salsa. It needed some salt though.

The reason it needed salt, as I found out, is they don't use salt or pepper. I kinda understand no salt because of health concerns and such. But no pepper? Seriously. That's just stupid. I rounded up a cylinder of Morton's in the cupboard of my office and, I must say, once I dumped a half pound of salt in there, the soup was excellent as was the carrot juice. Not that I dumped salt in my carrot juice. Seriously. That's just stupid.

So that's my play at being a restaurant reviewer. Hopefully, the staff at the Reader will pick up on it.

Friday, January 27, 2006

OK. Let's cut the crap. Here it is--the Weekly Wrapup:

1. Called in sick.
2. Bottled beer.
3. Strained.
4. Soaked beans.
5. Thought about hormones.
6. six six.
7. Stumbled upon stuff.
8. Talked trash.
9. Considered a lot of things.

That's all you get.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

People complain about doing taxes a lot but the way I see it, I just fill out a little form and the send me a couple hundred bucks in the mail. It's almost as easy as being a federal employee. In fact, it's easier if you don't waste your energy complaining.
There are people in this world that don't like donuts. That's pretty fucked up if you think about it.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Soon every local business will closed and our diets will consist exclusively of Subway and McDonald's. Do you know who I blame for this? Everyone.

Monday, January 23, 2006

It continually disturbs me that people who cannot figure out how to change printers on a network even after being shown how can drive cars and have children.

Friday, January 20, 2006

The one thing you need to know about federal employees is that it is impossible to put them in a situation where they can't find a reason to complain. The way they go on about it you'd think they spent long days toiling like serfs. However, the other thing you need to know about federal workers is that their jobs consist of only one thing--filling out forms. That's all they do. Period. Of course, I don't include postal workers here. Postal workers actually manage to do nothing but complain.
Well--I will refrain from bitching about my work anymore and give you kids what you really want--the Weekly Wrapup. Here's what I did this week:

1. Bitched about work.
2. Returned to Americana Submarine after far too long.
3. Finished my first issue of Asimov's.
4. Started reading the second.
5. Overstepped my boundaries.
6. six six
7. Discussed cuisine.
8. Drank wine at dinner.
9. Considered sitting out in the cold for a while.

And that's that.

Thursday, January 19, 2006

So today I saw two cops who were riding Segways on the sidewalk tell some bike messenger to stop riding his bike on the sidewalk. I fail to see the difference between using different modes of wheeled personal transport in this case aside from the fact the bike messenger was navigating deftly through pedestrians and the Segway cops were lumbering slowly abreast of each other and blocking half the sidewalk. I should mention that both cops were fat enough for it to be humorous.

Speaking of fat, what makes people think they can lose weight simply by buying things? It doesn't work. You'll just end up looking at your fat ass in the mirror one day thinking, "But I bought the shoes and the stretchy pants!" and the go eat an icecream bar to make yourself feel better--low fat, naturally.

And speaking of low fat food, I don't get the point. If you just go ahead and eat nothing, it has no fat and no calories. Nothing is the perfect food for diets and it's cheap.
You know what I haven't been using enough lately? Semicolons. I've moved beyond them in favor of the dash for now but they should know I still love them dearly. They're a fun punctuation make--sort of a super comma. Plus, the ladies go absolutely nuts over them. Believe me.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

There is a bitch fest going on in our office. Our boss is out so everybody is whining. It's ironical to me that whining actually has a small potential to change things when your boss is around but people only do it when they're out.

Friday, January 13, 2006

Children, gather 'round. It's time for the Weekly Wrapup. Here's what I did this week:

1. Got some pizza.
2. Acted grouchy.
3. Intentionally made myself sore.
4. Called in late.
5. Set up some filters.
6. six six
7. Waited patiently.
8. Stopped by for a couple of beers.
9. Considered getting more pizza.


Yep. There you have it.

Thursday, January 12, 2006

It's time to go get pizza.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

You know what's stupid? Binge drinking. Now don't get me wrong, I think drinking a lot is cool and drinking more than that is still cooler. As far as I can tell though, I've never been involved in binge drinking. Sure--I've gotten drunk more than I can count on all my fingers no matter if I'm seeing double or triple but that's not binge drinking. Binge drinking is for fratboys and daterapists.
Do the ever-present iPod earbuds you see these days remind anyone else of the seashell radios Millie wore in Fahrenheit 451?

Friday, January 06, 2006

You know, nothing says I have to write the Weekly Wrapup every weeks. I'm just a regular guy like anyone else and sometimes do more or less than nine things. I don't mean to but sometime shit happens. Anyway, I am gonna write it this weeks so shut your damn cake holes. Here's what I did:

1. Reunited.
2. Talked sex inside someone's head but didn't know I was doing it until she told me.
3. Solved a problem.
4. Ate an English muffin for the first time in years.
5. Was disappointed in said muffin.
6. six six
7. Plugged in an old amp.
8. Tried a new kind of jelly.
9. Considered the merits of frozen vs. fresh cranberries.

Can you guess which kind of cranberries I deemed superior? I don't even know yet. Doing anything more this week will stress me out so I have to wait a couple days to make a decision.

Thursday, January 05, 2006

To my coworkers:

Yes. It is I who took the last three Hershey Kisses. I wanted them so I took them. I also had the last cookie and, no, I did not do that thing where I only took half of the last cookie because I felt guilty about taking it. The cookies were available to all and anyone could take of them freely to the very last one. Many of you passed up the chance to grab the last cookie and undoubtedly feel jealousy or even anger toward me. However, I must stress that is simply not my fault that you are too weak and cowardly to act on your impulses and I have to courage to say, "Yes, indeed I want that last cookie and I want it all. I have as much right as anyone to have it." Next time, do not be so timid and it might be you writing a message such as this on your blog.

Sincerely,
Logical Frank
The least American thing you can be is a communazi terrorist that doesn't drink and sells drugs The most American thing you can be is a beerburger. Most people would do best to avoid either of these extremes.

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

A couple months ago I had a rather odd encounter w/ a woman--a little over five feet tall, blonde and middle aged--on my way to work. She stepped in my way, gave me a dirty look and moved to continue blocking me as I tried to walk around her. Eventually, I took my headphones off muttered excuse me or something and managed to get by w/ little further effort. I figured she confused me for someone or was just in a bad mood. I remember noticing she didn't get on the train she was waiting for. It seemed strange but no big deal. You run into people way weirder and scarier all the time on public transit--especially if you ride it as late as I do.

Of course, I wouldn't be telling you all this if I hadn't ran into her again--this time on my way home from work. I already found a seat when she made her entrance shouting "Excuse me! Excuse me!" This is on a train empty enough that a blind man would be hard pressed to run into someone accidentally. From there she proceeded to the front of the car where there's a space where people will put their luggage and sometimes stand when it's crowded during rush hour. She opened the door between cars as if to move on to the next one but she just left it cracked and turned around. "What's your name? Is your name Sue? Is your name Sue or Maryann?" she accused someone at random, pointing generally at a couple of seated women. She turned back to the front and stared out the window at the car ahead of us.

The only strange thing at this point is that I remembered her from the last time I saw her. I seldom recognize anyone I see on the train let alone someone who isn't waiting at the same time w/ me every moring. In the end, this meeting turned out to be somewhat more eventful than the last.

I got up a stop before mine and waited in front of the door. While I stood, I heard her shrill voice, "See this young man? He's a sex pig. He's always following me around. He talks fucking sex inside my head." She was pointing at me.

At this exact moment, the train began slowing and stopped momentarily in between stations. Crap. The last thing I need on my way home is to have to confront some crazy woman who's accusing me of having a voice inside her head.

Luckily, someone else took up my cause. "Why don't you just get away from him?" he asked.

"He knows where I am. He knows where I'm going. He's talking sex inside my head." She said and seemed pretty well convinced it was true. Mercifully, by this point the train had started moving again and my stop was just a moment away. She followed me off the train.

I have to admit to being a little afraid. This woman is considerably smaller than me and really, if it came down to it, I could probably defend myself--having to explain to the police why I just beat up some random woman aside. But crazy people are unpredictable. What if she finds out where I live? What if she has a gun? I walked home faster than normal, checking over my shoulder occasionally to make sure she didn't follow.
My archnemesis, Fraeulein X, has risen from the dead. Imagine if you will a woman who keeps duplicate sets of the hard copies of her complete records in her own office, a woman who can unplug her computer's powerstrip and plug it back into itself while attempting and failing to plug in a desklamp, a woman who's cackle would stun a rabid hyena and speaks only in cliches. She sits w/in ten feet of me and just reminded me of another one of her quirks--she likes to make large and grotesque changes in the structure of her campaigns w/o informing me or anyone else of such goings on until a precious short time before the final reports are due.

I think I'm going to break something.
The thing about my work is people only have two time frames in which I should do thing, "ASAP" and "when you get a chance." I prefer the latter as it translates in my mind that I should wait to do it until it becomes some that needs to be done "ASAP" which is more often than not never. However, sometimes, such as today, everyone drops "ASAP" stuff on my desk all at once. No matter what, some of these things have to be redesignated to when I get a chance status. This is exciting for my coworkers, something like roulette I imagine.