J.P.

Control.

I don’t know if you know this about me or not but I’m a bit of a control freak. I have a tendency to insist that things happen on my terms. I like to know what is happening when, where and why at all times. I even want to know the ‘how’. This tends to extend to all aspects of my life, including the geek side of things.

Facebook is all the rage right now. With a few simple clicks of the mouse and some pounding on the keyboard in the right places, I can virtually dial up a quickly growing number of people from my past and present and see what they’re up to and where they are in their life. I think this is a brilliant thing about social networking because it makes the world a little less global and in a way a little more intimate. I’m sure that my Facebook profile has shown my in-laws more about me than they thought they would ever know. I have found old high school friends that I had completely forgotten about. I recently also found out the details of another random person in public, and to me that’s kind of scary.

It was a year or so ago that Earl and I were at one of the Saranac Thursday nights. I commented to Earl that a gentleman standing not too far from us was kind of hot. He didn’t really agree with me (he wasn’t really Earl’s type) but he could see where I would think he was hot (it was because of his bold moustache, in case you’re wondering). I overheard a friend call him by his first name. It put a name to a face.

The other night I couldn’t sleep due to on-call and while I was waiting on hold for a certain telephone company to do something about the issue I was having, I was clicking around on in Facebook reading various profiles and the like. I remembered that name that went with a face and decided to do a search on his name and the city we live in. I now know his full name, his age (he’s 31), the fact that he is straight, has a girlfriend and is a single father and what types of music and television he likes. I also know that he was recently hired at a technology based company as a salesman. Had he not protected his profile to be completely viewed by his friends only, I would undoubtedly know his cell phone number and more about him.

To me this is a little bit out of my control barriers. And no, I wasn’t stalking the guy; I was testing a theory by using the two bits I know about the guy: his first name and what he looked like. I have done the same before with a waiter at Applebee’s.

I think Facebook is a great way for us to connect. I really do. But the service is free and yet it’s making tons and tons of money for the owners of the company. I believe they are doing this by data-mining and selling appropriate ads tailored specifically to you. This makes me a little nervous. I became even more nervous when I received a call yesterday telling me that my “fat whacker” like pills were on the way. I had no idea what the caller was talking about and asked where they got the idea that I wanted these pills. Their response?

“From Facebook.”

Um, no. This is where I draw the line. So after this blog entry, I am ceasing the automatic cross-posting between my real blog and my Facebook profile. If you want to see my real blog, you can gander at jpnearl-com and see what I’m up to, on my own terms and on my own server. My cell phone number on my profile has been modified to one that I can easily control (it’s my magic on how I do that).

I’m going to play the social networking game on my own terms.

Theme.

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So today has been an on-call day and I have found myself with a lot of downtime. To pass the time between calls I have been watching “old” shows via the internet. It’s funny to call these shows “old” while remembering that Earl and I watched them together on their original run. I’ve been bouncing between episodes of “Charmed” and “Ally McBeal” with a smattering of a few other gems from the 1990s along the way.

One the things that I really miss about today’s television is the theme song and opening credits. I know the reasoning for eliminating the openers is to give the stations or networks more advertising time but the shows just don’t feel the same without some sort of opening theme at the beginning.

If I had to pick a favourite show that is current I suppose it would be “Private Practice”. I know what the show is about and I can tell the difference between the actual show and the gluttony of ads but it doesn’t have a brand identity. Now I know that they’re doing that dramatic thing by having the little sun explosion at a climatic moment near the beginning of the show and then superimposing “Private Practice” as an understated title on the screen, but being a 40+ year old something I expect more.

Now I don’t need something that tells me to sit right back and I’ll hear a tale nor do I have to hear the story of a lovely lady, but I like the titles to be consistent and separate from the action of the show. I’m not a fan of ramming the credits down my throat over the opening scenes of the show and quite honestly I don’t think it’s fair to the actors or production staff to be minimized in this fashion. In my mind a quality opening sequence gives the show credibility. I figure that the show must be good because they have taken the time, energy and expense to invest in an identity for the show. I suppose that the radio station program director in me is kicking in on the opinion here because I was constantly obsessed with coming up with a viable brand identity for any given station I was working on.

30 Rock still has an opening credits sequence and this is a great thing. Maybe there are more shows with opening credits that I’m not remembering at this late hour but I think a quality theme song helps a viewer remember the show and whether they liked it or not.

As the way of so many other aspects of the industry these days, I think ‘Hollywood’ is missing the boat by eliminating theme songs. Maybe they’ll make a return in 2010.

Jinkees.

Last week I featured a video clip from an Elvis Presley movie and encouraged folks to figure out who the “cartoon voice” was. There was one guess, that guess being Betty Boop, which was incorrect.

Here is the video clip again. You are listening to the young blonde woman.

The young blonde woman is voice actress Nicole Jaffe. She has made very few live-action appearances, but she is most recognisable as…

… Velma Dinkley of the original “Scooby-Doo, Where Are You?”!

Now that you know that when you watch the video clip above, you can probably totally hear it.

I’m such an audio geek.

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Movement.

And so begins another weekend of the monotony of on call.

No, I won’t give you back your two minutes if you watch this video. Imagine what the video would be like if I still drank.

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Index.

I am loving the PUMA Index on my iPhone. This app helps you keep track of the stock index with a twist; each time the stock goes up or down the models take off or add clothes whilst doing some sort of activity.

Here is what I am seeing thus far today. It peps up the workday a little bit.

The app allows you to choose a male or female model at your leisure.

Exposure.

I’m a tech geek. I love all things techy and cool. To feed my tech geek needs, I watch many of the CNET TV podcasts that are released daily. I’m a big fan of “Loaded“, “Mailbag“, “Top 5” and many others. (I do wish they would do more Linux based shows, though.)

A couple of weeks ago my friend Greg was sick in bed with the flu. Trying to be the concerned friend that I am, I sent him a text message with the advice to get plenty of liquids, except my iPhone thought I should say “get plenty of liquor” in it’s attempt to be all knowing. I thought this was humourous, so I sent it into the CNET Mailbag “Autoincorrect” segment, where Molly Wood features humourous autocorrect snafus that many geeks can share a hearty laugh about.

My autoincorrect was featured on yesterday’s show. It made me giggle to hear someone else read it.

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As a quick aside, I really enjoy Molly’s style. She seems like she’d be fun to have dinner with.

Idle.

So I am on-call this week, hence the reason for my lack of blog updates over the past couple of days. On-call week is going as expected when the weather forecast calls for rain, rain, thunderstorms, wind and more rain. I’m not swamped at the moment but I have been busy right along.

Being on-call for this job is so much different than being on-call for the radio station gig. At the radio station I was on-call 24 hours a day, seven days a week. This would mean that I would get called once in a while by anyone at the radio station with any given crisis: “I’ve plugged the vacuum cleaner into the server rack and everything went dark and the radio stopped playing”, “Why are we playing ‘Oops I Did It Again’ by Britney Spears?” or “The computer in the studio has gone crazy and keeps playing the weather forecast over and over again!”

My current on-call gig is a whole ‘nother bunch of wires; I basically do my job 24 hours a day seven days a week for a week on an as needed basis. Last night I dealt with a power outage, a very surly Verizon technician who couldn’t be bothered to put the food he was eating down to speak to me, multiple broken DSL connections and an ornery Outlook Express inbox that kept hiding an AARP newsletter. I’m not complaining as I’ll be quite happy with my choice of extra days off or the overtime in return, but nevertheless it does like I put my life on hold for a week whilst I do the on-call thing.

It’s sort of like sitting at a traffic light that has just turned red. I have to wait until it turns green (at least in theory). While I wait at the light, I can’t do much but look around and see what’s going on around me. I’ll answer a text message or phone call or I’ll busy myself by picking up the stray fries that are wedged under the stick shift.

But until that light turns green, I’m just sitting there idling.

Adirondacks.

Yesterday Earl and I decided to take a drive up into the Adirondacks. It’s fall foliage season in these parts and while it’s not quite peak season yet the colours are quite impressive. It wasn’t a long drive to our first stop, the hamlet of Old Forge.

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An impressive display of colour in front of the old Howard Johnson’s in Old Forge.

Earl and I walked around town a bit, stopping at the various shops and admiring this and that. One of our stops included the “Life Is Good” store, which was quite busy.

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Earl poses with a friend.

We also went to Old Forge Hardware which has much more than hardware, in fact, they bill themselves as the most general store in the Adirondacks. It’s here that I bought a new Whirley-Pop and some gourmet popcorn, as well as some treats for Tom. On our way out of the store I noticed some a wild selection of colours in the distance, so I had to snap a photo.

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Colourful leaves in the background and by chance a hot biker in the foreground.

There were a lot of folks riding their bikes and dressed in full leather, if you happen to notice that sort of thing.

After Old Forge we headed north and drove through the Fulton Chain of Lakes and then headed further north into the more desolate area of the Adirondacks, winding our way through several hamlets and towns along the way.

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Raquette Lake.

After driving north an hour or two we came across a sign that indicated we were pretty much in the middle of nowhere, so I turned left and made the 105 mile trek to Watertown. By then it was dark and rainy so we decided to catch a movie before heading home. We got to the theatre just in time to see “Fame”. I wouldn’t consider it a waste of money in any way but I felt like I was just skimming through a plot without any sort of depth at all. There were women in front of us who squealed before the show started that they were going to sing along with the soundtrack; it’s too bad there’s only one song from the original in the show and it doesn’t really lend itself to singing along. I’m glad they didn’t sing.

We got home around 12:30. All in all it was a good Jeep adventure.

Oh, naturally I took my obligatory 365 days photo along the way.

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Earl runs the camera.

More pics from the trip are available here.

Gamble.

So I am currently sitting outside the gaming floor of the local casino, writing this blog entry on my iPhone. Earl is playing Let It Ride and is doing good thus far. He thinks I’m out of money, but I’m not. I still have more than half of what I budgeted for tonight in my pocket. I have this thing about losing money; I don’t like to do it. I am quite content just people watching and being amused by the intensity of some of the players. I make up stories in my head about people. Someday they might end up characters in a novel I write.

I have received several comments on my last entry about my HIV test. Some comments have been through e-mail and have had a common theme: the younger generation ain’t taking HIV as seriously as my generation did. I suppose it’s because HIV was fairly new when I became sexually active and I saw a quite a few of my friends die of AIDS. With the advancement of medicine it seems that younger folks just aren’t as concerned with the disease that ravaged our community back in the day. I sometimes wonder if there is misinformation or a dose of ignorance out there. I sometimes think that I could do more in helping educate folks; I suppose these two blog entries are a start.

Well enough of the heavy stuff for tonight. After all, I’m listening to bells and whistles of slot machines and hearing the occasional scream of a winner here and there. A gay couple just walked by and they were holding hands. That’s pretty remarkable for these parts. It makes me grin.

I should probably go check on the husbear. He’s one of the best card players I’ve ever seen. Maybe he’ll buy me something pretty. Heh.

10 Minutes.

I was tested for HIV last week. There was no specific reason that prompted me to be tested; it had been a year or so and I felt it was the right thing to do. I believe everyone should be tested on a regular basis, regardless of your sexual orientation or the type of activity you engage in. It’s probably easiest when the test is integrated into your yearly physical. This time mine was not.

When I was tested last year, the test was included in the blood tests associated with my physical. The doctor didn’t prompt me to be tested for HIV or anything so I specifically requested it because it had been a long time and while I don’t engage in any sort of dangerous sexual activity, I know in the back of my mind that sex isn’t the only way of contracting HIV. So my doctor included the test in the whole screening thing; I had blood drawn and then had to wait 10 days for the results. To obtain my status I had to report to the doctor’s office for the news. This is a customary procedure. It was much easier than the first time I was tested back in 1990. Then I had to wait three weeks for my results (and several hours in the waiting room at the Chautauqua County health clinic).

This time I decided to go to the local health clinic for my test. I hadn’t been to this county clinic for an HIV test since the mid 1990s but the procedure is somewhat the same: you walk in during a certain time frame on a certain day, take a number, speak to no one about anything and then sit in the waiting room amongst all the others that have just taken a number. There is a wide smattering of people usually found in the waiting room; this time there were people of varying races, colours, sexual orientations and one woman that was having difficulty reading the word “vaginal” from a pamphlet about STDs. She chose to sound the word out aloud by saying “vag”, “vajuh”, “vajunohl” and then she finally got it. I’m glad she did because I wanted to stand up and help her by yelling “vaginal”, “vaginal”, “it’s vaginal!” but I refrained from this. She was ticking off the STD tests she was going to get as if she was going through the drive-thru and yelling into a speaker. It was shortly afterwards that a woman came out of one of the exam rooms and barked my number: “5”!

I was asked why I was there and then shuffled to a counselor that specialises in HIV counseling and testing. She explained that the new test now takes just 10 minutes. She would prick my finger as if I were doing a daily diabetes/blood sugar test, put it on the special stick and then talk to me whilst we waited for the results. She would only do this if I signed a form stating that I would not commit suicide if the results were positive because if that were the case, they would then do the older style test with the tube of blood and send it off to the state for more testing. I signed the consent form, provided some further information and then she did the finger prick.

She talked about safer sex, I talked about safer sex and she seemed slightly uncomfortable with my frankness on the subject but remained entirely professional. She was only concerned about my sexual activity for the past six months so I couldn’t regale her with my colourful history of trapezes, summer breezes and other adventures from days gone by (sorry, Mom). Before I knew it she declared 10 minutes were up and gave me my results.

People may wonder why I am being tested for HIV or why I feel it’s an important thing for everyone to do. I have dear friends that I love and others folks that I know that are HIV positive and while they live a healthy existence courtesy of modern science and will most likely continue to do so, I can guarantee that they will tell you that their life is more complicated, more costly and that they would probably rather be HIV negative instead of HIV positive. Being HIV positive does not take the worry of unsafe sex practices away. I knew a person that contracted HIV through a blood transfusion; I know others that didn’t practice safer sex and was infected by someone that didn’t share their status with them beforehand. I know one that just didn’t give a damn and was infected. While HIV can be mostly controlled these days, it can not be eradicated (though there are promising strides being made).

I believe that living my life honestly and striving to set a good example by contributing to the world I am making a difference somehow, somewhere. And I believe by sharing the fact that I was tested for HIV in an hour’s time at a local clinic and received my results the very same day, that I will make a difference in someone’s life with this information.