I have no car, and I must snack

I bought my current Ford Ranger almost six years ago. During that time, I've put 85,000 miles on it and spent a grand total of $200 on car repair; the hydraulic clutch fluid line broke a few years ago. Other than that, the car has been a worry-free, bulletproof chunk of reliability. Which, given that it's a Ford, qualifies as a goddamned pope-certified miracle. Unfortunately, the "Check Engine" light made a mysterious appearance a few days ago, which means that the car is currently in the shop, leaving me without transportation. This wouldn't be a problem for most people who work at home, but I'm currently going through severe cheeseburger withdrawal.

Yes, I'm still making a half-assed attempt at a diet. Cutting out soda has been irritating, but that and a switch to 2% milk have been the only parts I've been able to adhere to. I have at least cut back on the cheeseburger/french fry consumption, leading to an increase in deli sandwiches and Chipotle chicken burritos (yeah, I know, they probably aren't good for me, but they've got to be better than red meat and potatoes fried in lard). But no car today meant no fast food runs, which meant a bowl of leftover quinoa for lunch, which meant a hunger pains this afternoon.

I ransacked the pantry and fridge and found a box of cereal. I wasn't sure if the box belonged to me or our current (fresh out of law school and dirt-poor) houseguest and had just about talked myself into having a bowl or six (wishing I had whole milk to pour all over it) when I took a closer look and noticed that it was a box of Honey Bunches of Oats... with chocolate flakes. I know for a fact that I'd never buy a cereal that half-assed; I demand my breakfast food be either delicious or healthy, with no overlap. So I sadly put the box back on the shelf and tried to content myself with some apples, all while dreaming of a nice cheesesteak.

On another note, allow me to be the millionth person to complain about the new online banking "security" measures. Our Snotmobile loan is with Bank of America. As I am morally opposed to buying stamps and too chronically irresponsible to make regular phone payments, I'm a HUGE fan of online autopay. So I signed up for online banking. I put in all my info, but wasn't able to log on. I called customer service, and they told me I needed a password reset, which they would send via mail "for security purposes." The temporary password arrived a week later, which I used to log on, only to learn that I needed to reset my password before I could do anything else. I called customer service again, and they told me that my temporary password had expired in the time it had taken me to get the letter (!!!!) and that they'd need to mail me a new one "for security purposes." I used this opportunity to take out some unresolved anger on the customer service lady, who eventually gave up and read me my new password over the phone. Which they could have done with the first password, but anyway. I finally logged on, and spent the next 20 minutes hunting fruitlessly for an autopay option. It was in this frustrated state of mind that I picked up the phone and blundered through the horrible automated phone system to make the payment, which might help explain why I made the payment from the wrong account and am now looking at $40 in overdraft protection charges from my other bank. In the meantime, that other bank has also reset my online password and mailed me the new one "for security purposes." I have no point here, except to say that the phrase "for security purposes" is being used to get people to put up with some incredibly stupid, useless shit.

Dicks

So as part of the "eat healthier and get in shape" mid-year resolution that should last at least until late June, I bought some adjustable dumbbells from Dick's Sporting Goods. I'm pretty far from having what could be called a home gym, but with these and a curl bar I bought last year, I now really have no excuse for my pipecleaner arms. I'm also hoping that doing some shoulder exercises with them will make my volleyball swing hurt less, but that's a vague wish that isn't based on any evidence or actual advice from anyone who knows about this stuff.

Anyway. The dumbbells work as advertised, and I'm pretty happy with them. Unfortunately, the set's stand is missing a piece -- the small plastic rack that one of the weights sits in. Should be no problem, right? Just return to Dick's and grab one out of the box, right? Wrong.

Of course, I got the last one and they're out of stock. But that's still no problem, since the guy I talked to last week assured me they'd have more this week and I could come in and get my piece of molded plastic. Of course, when I called this week, nobody had any idea what I was talking about. They didn't have any in stock, and they weren't willing to swap out the piece even if they did. They gave me the (wrong) number for the manufacturer, who sent me right back to Dick's. To make it worse, the people at Dick's kept asking me who I talked to last week. As if it made a difference. No, I don't remember who I talked to. It's not my job to remember your employees' names. It's your job to train them not to screw up and give bad information.

Also, you may not realize it, but Dick's is the most ass-backward company in the free world when it comes to stocking their stores. In the internet age, where just-in-time delivery is king and communication is easier than ever, the morons running Dick's are stuck in the 1920s. Want something they don't have at the store? They can't order it for you. They can't get it from another store in any reasonable amount of time. They can't even predict when more will be delivered from their warehouse. The best guess anybody at the store could offer me was, "Maybe in two or three weeks we'll get more." Um, yeah. Thanks. Fantastic. So I'm going to be returning a $300 piece of equipment because it's missing a 50 cent hunk of plastic. And the morons at Dick's are going to have to ship this 100+ pound bastard back to the manufacturer. I hope the random employee who outright lied to me gets a hernia loading it onto the truck.

Stench and double-edged swords

It's been a hectic two weeks of profuse sweating. First, I spent four days in Atlanta for the club volleyball national tournament. Indoor volleyball in swamp-like humidity with a few hundred of your closest friends is a good way to lose some water weight. The tournament was held in the absolutely cavernous convention center, which is located in the absolutely desolate downtown area. Looking for good bars and restaurants that might foster a fun social scene? Don't bother with downtown Atlanta, where the most happenin' place to be was the Omni Center Food Court. Your choices for entertainment in the area consist of the food court (which at least sold cheap beer), Hooters, or getting mugged.

Came home for a few days of rest before embarking on another sweat-a-thon, a two-day rafting trip. The blast-furnace heat was actually kinda welcome, since the water was all fresh snowmelt and therefore suck-the-breath-from-your-lungs cold. After two days on the river I smelled like an intoxicating mix of sweat, campfire, pond scum and stale beer. It was fantastic fun, but I'm excited to be home where it's nice and cool as opposed to sitting around, soaking in my own stench.

I've also been enjoying the benefits of being the only remotely technical person on my team; the downside is that people will often request things that they consider to be trivial but are, in fact, a huge pain in the ass. (Somebody yesterday asked me to add two slides into a video of someone presenting a PowerPoint file, which might be possible for Pixar or ILM, but is a little out of my range.) Fortunately, there's a definite upside: occasionally I'll do something that's laughably easy and everyone will react like I've just cured cancer. I got several lauditory emails from various bosses Monday for something that took literally 15 minutes of my time. Now, if my boss asks me, "What have you been working on lately?" I have an answer she'll like (napping and working through Grand Theft Auto IV strangely doesn't count as productive work).

In other news, I'm making a half-assed attempt to eat better. I'm reasonably active and skinny to begin with (aside from the ghetto booty), but have always been curious how my body would react to a diet that wasn't based around bacon cheeseburgers. We'll see how long I can eat bananas for breakfast and apples for dessert; the two toughest things will be giving up soda and drinking 2% instead of my beloved whole milk (with half and half on top of cereal). Wish me luck.