And yes, I am breathing hard at the end of the video, deal with it. I’m a sysadmin, not an Olympic squirrel wrangler.

START TRANSACTION
UPDATE life SET husband='matt', wife='julie';

Then Mr. Ellison would ask the crowd gathered at the event if there is any reason we shouldn’t be wed, and ROLLBACK; if so.

In the end marriage is about one thing, you just gotta COMMIT;.

If you didn’t understand a damn bit of that, you’re not nerdy enough, and should go learn about transactions, commits, and rollbacks.

And for the first time, I do youtube! I hope this goes well.

Video contains: little tree snapped off, bigger tree snapped off, exceptionally huge tree ripped out. Sorry for the rambling, please let me know if you want the next two minutes of your life back.

But wait, there’s another one down. This time a pine…

Kind of a crazy day all in all. This video recording on the cell phone thing is awesome. The Nokia N95 was a really, really good purchase. I am very happy with it. It enables me to do things like this, things that I really enjoy, and that I’ve never done before.

Here I sit in ABS vent, pulse quickened, heart racing, stomach singing a song of discontent. I was disconnected, but now I’m back down on terra firma. Shaking, skin aflush. Sweaty, and my face leaving no doubt as to my state of mind; eyes half-open, lower lip still quivering and a bloody nose to boot. I think about how I must be so incredibly subverted from my original purpose, and stress induced nosebleeds — why is this happening to me?

Breath out, slowly. Don’t hold it in. More after the break.

I hit the talk button on my mouse: “Chloro?” and hope to hear Jon answer back. He does, and he sounds like he’s in a good mood. Too bad I’m going to have to ruin that. We hop down to the empty Group_7 channel. My voice cracks a bit… “Jon… I, I don’t even know where to start explaining this… I met this chick last saturday, I’m pretty sure I told you about her.” His reply, the standard “Aye.” Confident that he’s on board, I continue. “Yeah, I came home to her in my living room, sitting there with a look of complete contentment. Smiling like a chesire cat. She doesn’t have a key.” Jon starts to talk, but I continue, a low frequency twitter in my voice. “Yeah. I made small talk with her about how she hadn’t fallen asleep on me and that she’s got nothing to be embarrassed about while taking my work shirt off and — very cautiously — getting my gun. It’s not loaded. As soon as I got it, I showed it to her. Not pointed, but pointed down – her eyes went wide like the open ocean, blue and empty. She froze. I told her that if she didn’t get out of the house right now, I was going to call the police. She bolted. I don’t know what to do.”

Jon keys his talk button for just a moment, and pauses briefly before he speaks. “Dude, You’re fine. That’s incredibly fucked up and bizarre what happened but you kept your head on your shoulders and did the right thing. Any woman willing to pull a little B&E to get into your place should be treated with extreme caution. To be quite direct: call the cops NOW – she BROKE INTO YOUR HOUSE. I know you’re freaked the fuck out, but calm down and call the cops. You’re okay, and she’s insane, and she just broke into your house – she needs to go to fucking jail!”

It doesn’t matter that he’s right. It’s terrifying. You go out and start having a social life that you enjoy and then this happens. She could be crazy. She could be trying to kill me. From my discussions with her, yeah, she’s as damaged as I am and then some. She… Could be trying… to kill me. I call the cops, let them know what happened in the short form. I hang up the phone, lean my head back, my neck aches and the knot in the left side continues to be pulled upon from both ends. I close my eyes.

Sirens in the distance…

It could have happened that way, you know. But don’t fret, It didn’t. My mind often runs situation simulations, my imagination wanders a bit sometimes – this time I decided to follow it, and write it down. I hope you liked it. This has been an enjoyable creative exercise that I saw fit to share. Comments please, and thank you for reading! <3

Firstly, the Ohio BMV New Resident page is next to useless, revealing the first heartbreaking fault of this whole process. I have to have something with my SSN on it to get a license. Come on ladies and gents – it’s a passport, I had to go through hell and high water and AAA to get this blessed piece of ground up pressed wood pulp. But that I can throw aside for now, as my PA license is quite valid until sometime in 2009.

If you own a vehicle, you will need to have it inspected. The purpose is to avoid registration of stolen vehicles. All license agencies offer this service and many, but not all, new car dealers do also, so call ahead to be sure. Ask for the service department at the car dealers.

The inspection of your vehicle will verify the make, model, body type, and manufacturer’s serial number or vehicle identification number. You will be given the completed inspection form.

This part was easy, and stupid. I went to the Fyord dealer down the street and pulled into their garage. Once I had the attention (no small feat) the upstanding citizen who was obviously stoned or looking at porn on the computer at the service desk, I asked about this out of state inspection form. The reprobate nods, and wanders off. Shortly there after a fellow came out, recorded the VIN from my door frame, had me write my name, rank and serial number on this paper, proceeded to charge me tre-fitty, and I was on my way. I suppose this is all some sort of VIN typo-preventing excercise.

After fighting with the 1980s flashback which is the fax machine at work, I divined the proceedure neccessary to make the bloody thing send a long distance fax. This golden fax was a request to my bank to assist in fulfilling the following bullet-point requests in getting the 4Runner titled in Ohio:

If you have a lien on your car, you will have to request that your original title be sent directly to the title office so the lien can be recorded on the Ohio title as well as supply an original or copy of the loan papers;

If you lease a car, contact your leasing agency to find out how they want you to handle the title transfer. It varies from company to company;

A nice letter to the fine folks at PSECU was all that seemed to be required, informing them to fax a copy of my title and “loan paperwork” to the fax number for the Clerk of Courts’ Auto Title Department. Apparently this is too much to ask, as Pennsylvania doesn’t do paper titles or some such nonsense. I didn’t remember the part about absolutely having to have a copy of the title when I left my office today, and headed for the BMV on Redbank.

It’s 5:45 when I pull in, and they’re open till 6:00. Plenty of time – PSECU had hopefully sent all the paperwork, and I could be in and out in moments. I enter the room through two sets of poorly labeled doors, deceptive in their true holdings, to be greeted by a bunch of grumpy women in their mid to late fifties. Asked about my fax, it hadn’t arrived. I was told by the woman that they had to have the title, and when I informed them of the fact “I do not own the vehicle, my bank does,” they repeated the same statement. I stated that the Ohio BMV’s new resident website told me this is what I needed, and was told “that’s not our website.” Apparently one hand isn’t doing a good job of sharing the cock, as these folks seem to be utterly clueless in the processes in which they’re involved. So it appears that this Clerk of Courts’ Auto Title Department has nothing to do with the BMV – I can accept that, but how about a little cooperation. I was inches away from verbally abusing these elderly wenches of ill-use but, somehow managed to hold it in. Kyle wouldn’t have held it in. I stated that I wasn’t going to waste their time, turned my back and walked out.

Tommorow holds the promise of being on the phone with PSECU’s title department trying to get a copy of my title and loan paperwork (which, of course, have to be transmitted with signatures on that 1980s abomination the fax machine) to the Clerk of Courts’ Auto Title Department which is not part of the BMV. I’ll try to keep you posted.

So what happens when someone stuffs a duck call on the end of valve, and that valve opens and vents pressure? You’ll have to watch below, I had a hell of a good laugh with this. Apparently so did variable! Courtesy of MDK!

Or on a Scooby:

How about a turkey call:

Ahh, much laughter to be had. And I don’t even want to know how deep related videos go.