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December 29, 2003
Ten best ads you'll never see in the US
Adage has a list of the ten best ads that you'll never see in the US, for one reason or another.
I like advertising. I only like it when I want to see it, though.
Courtesy of Slashdot.
Posted by KinCross at 11:36 PM | Comments (0)
December 25, 2003
Being Hugo Weaving
The best part of being Hugo Weaving is beating the crap out of Keanu Reeves and Liv Tyler calling you daddy.
Posted by KinCross at 03:43 PM | Comments (0)
Merry Christmas
With all cynicism removed, Merry Christmas (or other holiday of choice) everyone. May you and yours have a most enjoyable holiday.
Posted by KinCross at 03:41 PM | Comments (0)
December 22, 2003
That drunken feeling
About twenty minutes ago, there was a "magnitude 6.5 event" centered seven miles northeast of San Simeon, CA, or about 250 miles from Los Angeles.
In case the wording was too vague, that meant earthquake. Here, we were just feeling the shockwave, but it was pretty impressive. The building started swaying and creaking like mad, which was exacerbated and tempered by the fact that I work on the 34th floor, near the core of the building.
Honestly, it felt like being drunk.
Posted by KinCross at 11:36 AM | Comments (0)
December 18, 2003
Recent Pics
Okay, there's a slight shortage of recent pictures of me, so here we go. Here are three pics of me while I was in Las Vegas.
Posted by KinCross at 12:57 AM | Comments (0)
December 17, 2003
Bad Bert!
Couldn't resist not passing this along. Xkot nails it on the head: it's too damned hypnotic.
Courtesy of Xkot.
Posted by KinCross at 09:30 AM | Comments (0)
December 14, 2003
Everything that happens in Vegas stays in Vegas... except this
Everyone who has been to Vegas has a story of triumph or woe. While this technically wasn't my first time in Las Vegas, it was the first time that I'd done it "Vegas" style. Here's my story:
The details of how I came to my situation are not important--or at least I say they aren't--but there's no denying that I was standing in the lobby of the casino around 2:30-3:00 in the wee hours of Sunday morning. In my pocket, I had thirteen bills, each of them proudly declaring their monetary value of "one dollar."
These were my last bills and would have to last me from that point in time until my friends and I would leave the hotel some eight hours later. There wasn't much that could be done with $13, really, except for buying a lot of Krispy Kreme doughnuts, perhaps. Yet, the slot machines beckoned.
Earlier in the day, my friends and I had combined on a group wager at a particular machine on the floor that had been identified as lucky by one. We each pitched in a $20 and on the second roll we scored a Spin. The machine was themed after Wheel of Fortune, so with the press of a button, the wheel started turning and rewarded us with $500. Score.
As I meanedered through the slots--evil of evils, that casino floor planning--this memory tickled my mind until I could ignore it no longer. I stepped up to the machine and began feeding it singles.
The machine wouldn't take them.
In my sleep-deprived and chemically-induced stupor, it would tke me another thirty seconds to realise that the machine would only take $5 notes and higher. In a fine example of the pathetic effect of greed in Sin City, this sign from the heavens went ignored. I remained undeterred.
I stumbled my way up to the cashier's window and traded my ten singles for a $10 bill. In retrospect, I would have given the other $3 that I had to find out what the old gentleman behind the counter thought of me just then.
Armed with my weapon of choice--my new and upgraded weapon of choice--I stumbled back to the Wheel of Fortune, back to the machine that had coughed up earlier to give us a little more play money. I gave Mr. Hamilton a little kiss and fed him into the slot. The display beeped and I had my two credits, worth $5 each.
Now, unless you're going in for the long haul and trying to build a "rhythm," as the superstitious slots vets might say, you might as well hit that "Max Play" button because the truly worthy prizes only show up on the second or third "coin" or credit. I had two credits. I wasn't going to be building any kind of rhythm.
My hand hovered over the button and I paused. I wondered if the machine knew what I wanted. What can I say? When you're a little delirious from lack of sleep and wired on Red Bull and who knows what else chemicals may be flowing through the bloodstream, things talk to you. Maybe you talk back. I decided to show the machine instead.
My fingers lifted up and traced over the icons for "Wheel of Fortune" and "Spin" on the prize board. It'd be nice to claim the near $1.9M that was the ultimate jackpot on the machine, but I wasn't trying to be greedy. Well, not too much.
Just in case the machine didn't hear me, I showed it again: "Wheel of Fortune" or "Spin." Leaving my faith in the machine to empathise, I lowered my hand onto the button.
Blank.
Bar.
Spin.
A sudden rush of relief exhaled from my lungs. I'd already won. There was nothing that I could do to lose at that point, having already profited by at least double my investment. I wasn't done, though. "Spin" meant that there was still one more thing I needed to do before I cashed out, and that was to press that "Spin Wheel" button in the center of the machine.
I gathered my breath, looked up at the wheel and, after pressing my palms together in a fuzzy and ambiguous prayer to whoever wanted to listen and guide, pushed the button.
The highest payout on the wheel was the wedge just to the right of center, which means that whoever spun that wheel last walked away teased and disappointed. I watched the wheel spin around once, passing one full revolution before beginning to slow.
As the wedges ticked by, I could see that wedge rolling up the left side. It was THE wedge. The wedge just to the right of center when this all started. It was the sole white wedge with the numbers boldly emblazoned in red.
Tick. Three more. Screw the $500. I can taste it.
Tick. Two more. Not the $50. Never the $50.
Tick. One more. Don't stop at a $100. Please don't stop!
Tick.
At 2:51 a.m., I found my rhythm and walked away $1195 richer.
Posted by KinCross at 10:04 PM | Comments (0)
December 07, 2003
The Big Apple, brick by brick
Check out The Brick Apple, one LEGO aficionado's wink at New York City.
Update: Currently having a little trouble clicking the sublinks, but it's cool stuff.
Posted by KinCross at 11:42 PM | Comments (0)