Beware: Ninja Attack Imminent!

I have been on the internet for about 14 years now. That's quite a long time. Not the casual, "Just check my email once a week," internet denizen either. I'm more the, "On at least once a day every day," sort of person. I instant message people, I'm active on several forums, I game, I google any thought that crosses my mind, and I do a lot of downloading (Ahem. Of the legal kind -- I assure you). For 14 years! During all of that time I have never, ever had an anti-virus program installed. During all of that time, I have never, ever gotten a computer virus.

When I was in the PC sales & repair business I would boggle at the outrageous prices people were willing to pay for McAfee and Norton. Highway robbery. The fact that they were paying anything at all for virus protection boggled my mind. In 99.9% of all instances, you can avoid infection by simply not being an idiot. When random mysterious .exe files try to launch themselves, just click no. Never click on an url from untrustworthy sources. Just as you aren't supposed to accept candy from strangers -- don't accept downloads from them either. This is all common sense I thought... like not biting lepers or tonguing someone with tuberculosis.

But that isn't the case. At least half of the work I did on PCs was virus removal. To the point that it was ridiculous. The other half was typically people who were 100% certain they had a virus but it turned out they just hadn't performed any maintenance for as long as they've owned their computer. You should defrag at least bi-weekly and you should totally reformat every 6 months, amongst other things. No, the 2 inches of dust on your motherboard is not supposed to be there. No, the spiders living on your sound card aren't supposed to be there either. The fans inside should be spinning, yes.

To me, virus protection software is a big scam. A scare tactic used to frighten you into spending more money than necessary. "Beware the big spooky viruses! They will destroy the thousands of dollars you spent on your computer in an instant!" Like they're trying to convince you your computer will get e-AIDS if you don't invest in a virtual computer condom.

There is no reason to pay for something you more than likely will never need so long as you're not being careless. Even if you are careless, there are more than enough completely free anti-virus programs endorsed by Microsoft (read: not a Trojan in disguise) to cover your ass.

Today I was careless. I found a stow-away while downloading something otherwise benign. My very own computer virus! First one ever. At first I was a little annoyed, not by the virus but by my nonchalance. With a roll of my eyes I launched Microsoft's Malicious Software Removal tool because that's about the extent of effort most viruses take to be rid of. And if that doesn't do the trick, you can always just reformat. What a dull lesson in tedium, I thought.

Then something exciting happened. The virus scanned the program I was trying to launch, deemed it a threat to itself, and disabled it completely. Rendering it useless to me for anything other than a desktop icon. As a test I launched Windows Defender to see what would happen. Sure enough the virus scanned it and disabled it completely. This was now far more entertaining. Perhaps even a challenge.

Sure, I have encountered viruses that travel to escape deletion, but never one that actively takes out other programs it deems threatening.

I opened Windows Task Manager to see what the processes running were, identified the guilty ones, noted what directories they were occupying and made an attempt to end them for removal. The virus was fine with my perusal of Task Manager up until that point -- after which it immediately disabled Task Manager too.

Giggle. This was far more interesting than I had thought it would be. At this point I could've simply reformatted, it's about that time anyway, but now I was determined to triumph. To see how far this thing would go.

I went to Mr. Owl to ask him about my stow-away. The virus intercepts my search query and blocks all of the websites with any information useful to me. I manage to jump through some hoops and get to a page, from Microsoft's own, where I can download a third party task manager-like program with which I can kill the virus' processes and effectively download a new removal tool.

When I try to download the program from its actual website, the virus cancels the download and closes my browser. Not one to be thwarted, I go to a mirror site and download the program there. However when I install it, the virus recognizes the file name and disables it. Ha! Tricky devil. I'll have to be trickier. I download it again, from another mirror, and rename it. Rkill is now Bob. Innocent, totally nonthreatening Bob. I launch Bob and in a matter of minutes have killed my virus' processes.

Now is my chance to grab Malwarebytes and finish this. Which is essentially what I do, only I know that every time I run a new program, my stow-away awakens. I have to time it with Bob perfectly, or the virus will just disable MWB too. I manage this and after a restart, the whole ordeal is done with. Purgality!!!

Is it wrong that I was hoping my persistence would awaken some latent AI in the thing and Skynet would be born? I mean, self preservation programmed or not is pretty cool. Not even all animals have that level of awareness.

Of Legal Age

I have a hard time doing things by myself. That is not to say I don't know how to do things and thus it is difficult for me to do them, but that I know how to do things but when I try to do them my progress is impeded in one way or another. More often than not, due to age restrictions. As you are well aware, I am old enough to go to the strip club and buy booze. So says my I.D. Yet whenever I am performing a task that requires you to be of legal age, I face difficulty.

For many women, this sort of thing would be flattering. A blessing even. For the most part I don't so much mind it. From time to time it even supplies great entertainment. It also however carries with it a stigma. That I'm some wily minor trying to circumvent the law, and I don't like being treated like a con.

For example, in 2009 I bruised my shoulder socket. To make sure that it wasn't broken or dislocated, the doctor ordered an x-ray. I was there by myself. I had no issue turning in the paperwork to see the doctor to the clerk at the front desk, and the jolliness of the doctor I assumed was just his kindly good nature. As it happens, he was being nice because he thought I was a kid. Later he would ask me if I needed an excuse to get out of gym. He must have thought the age on my chart was either a mistake or a lie.

When the nurse came to escort me to radiology she gave pause and asked me if my mother was in the waiting room. Incidentally, since she had been the one to drive me to the medical center, she was. The nurse then explains that they'll need her consent to give me an x-ray. I interject that I can consent for myself because I'm an adult and she gives me a sort of confused look, followed by a glance down at my chart. Embarrassed, she apologizes several times. I of course relieve her by saying she has no need to apologize, and have a laugh.

That was last year. Just the other day while Aaron and I were at the grocery store, we decided to buy a bottle of Sweet Vermouth. Aaron, on the phone, excused himself from the check-out line while I went ahead and wrapped up the transaction. As I'm standing there the woman behind the register rings up the Vermouth and asks me if my mom is in the store elsewhere. Momentarily, I am perplexed. Then I realize what's happening  and reply, "No."

In disbelief the woman states very assuredly, "Honey you're not a day over fifteen! I'm going to need to see some I.D." As if I were trying to pull wool over her eyes. I remove my I.D. and hand it to her. It takes her a few seconds to find my birth date, since my I.D. is still out-of-state. Once she's found it she exclaims in disbelief, "NUH-UH! No way!"

By this point the middle-aged man in line behind me is curious and inquires, "What? Is she 17?"

The cashier, with now-wide eyes replies, "No. You wouldn't believe it!" and confirms the transaction. She apologizes too, but I just laugh it off and tell her I'm used to it.

Another time, while at dinner with my grandfather in Illinois, I was forbidden from buying a drink at Chili's. Due to my appearance and out-of-state I.D., they thought I was underage and that my identification  may be fake. With the right to refuse service to anyone, there was no argument I could make on my own behalf to convince them otherwise. In order to get a drink, I had to remain at the table while my grandfather went to the bar for me. A similar event happened to me when I was in Florida, at a Fridays.

It was even worse several years ago, where whenever I would go to clubs the doormen always wanted to put X's on the backs of my hands so that the tender would know not to serve me alcoholic beverages due to being underage. To make aggravate matters, even after proving my age they would try to make me leave the venue with the rest of the minors at midnight.

While many women in their 40's would love to be mistaken as 20, being a woman in your 20's constantly mistaken for a teenager just isn't as beneficial. Mostly it just creates awkward (albeit funny)  moments and holds up lines.

The Shape of Things To Come

Now that I've decided this will be my primary medium for journal writing, this is a general, "WTF you can expect," post.

Things you can expect from me:

• Posts about nonsense.
• Posts about my past.
• Posts about my present.
• Posts about my future.
• Posts that are lighthearted.
• Posts that are srsly srs.
• Posts about your posts.
• Posts about inanimate objects.

These are things you should not expect from me:

• Posting in any sort of scheduled manner.
• Posts about politics.
• Posts about religion.
• Posts about sports.
• Posts that are concise.

You should also be forewarned that I view the world in a very 'outside the box' sort of way and often times that carries over to my writing. I may jump from one subject directly into the next with little or no transition, expecting you to follow along. And what starts as a short update about my day may turn into a rant about nothing in particular.

Without further ado...

P.S. Went ahead and transferred all of my old blog posts over to this blog. Going so far back as to the year 2006.

Promises

After being long distance friends for ages, Aaron and I began dating when we met face-to-face and brought in the New Year together in 2009-2010. He made a promise to me then, that we'd end the year the same way we'd started it: together. Since then, I have moved 3000 miles to California to live with him. We eventually moved out of his old place and got an apartment together in a nice neighborhood. We even inadvertently rescued a cat, together.

This New Year we attended the same party as we had last year, hosted by the lovely Emily at her and Jon's apartment in Los Angeles. As 2010 ended and 2011 began we exchanged the traditional midnight kiss, but then something more happened. Still holding me close, he says, "Last year I made a promise, and here we are. This year I'm making another promise..." and slips a ring onto my ring finger. My heart raced and I'm almost certain I blushed, speechless. I kissed him and he smiled like he always does, "I take it that's a yes?"

We were even sitting in the exact same place. Perfect in every imaginable way.

Of course it was a yes! It took the room a few minutes to catch on, but once it did the excitement was like electricity in the air. Congratulations and hugs all around. We had to excuse ourselves into the vestibule for a little privacy as we made the appropriate phone calls to people who weren't there, "We're getting married!"

The best part was what he told me next. How long he'd been planning this and more specifically, when he set his plan into motion. That week we went down to his mom's house for Thanksgiving and I got the super flu? When he and his mom went out to fetch me some soup, they also went and had my ring designed. He knew he wanted to marry me even when I was at my absolute orifice-spewing grossest. How sweet!

The ring deserves its own paragraph. It is one of a kind. Remembering that I prefer white gold to yellow gold, that my favorite gem is the garnet, and that I absolutely adore pearls in every way -- even after only having been told once in a conversation so long ago; he had crafted exclusively for me the most beautiful ring I've ever seen. Featuring a splendid white pearl as its focal point, two vibrant oval-cut garnets, two circular diamonds, all set in delicately and elaborately designed white gold.

It was the perfect timing, at the perfect place, with the perfect ring, in the perfect company. Every time I look at my hand, I smile now. I just can't help it. The thought of spending the rest of my life with him instills in me just such a joy it cannot be contained.

Holidays

It is that time of year again. Time for merry making, gift giving, and good cheer. Oh, and stress. Can't forget the stress. Getting everything accomplished in a timely, cost-efficient manner is something of a small miracle.

Living across the country from most of my friends and family also means I have to double and triple check addresses. I can't just walk down the street and hand a gift to my BFF anymore. I have to wrap it in a box and entrust the postal service to get it there in one piece. I also have to hope no one has moved, is out of town, or gave me the wrong digits when giving me their address in a holiday hurry. Because lets face it, everyone is in a holiday hurry and when rushed -- we make mistakes.

The first mistake I made was trusting the internet. A particular gift I was getting for someone was sold at Macy's "nation wide." So when I got to the nearest Macy's only to discover it was in fact, not available there, I was vexed. That meant not only did I waste gas and time, but I would have to hop back online in the middle of the night so no one would see and buy it with rush delivery to have it under the tree in time. Why tell me it's available at all Macy's if it's actually only sold at a select few? It isn't as if the item was simply sold out. They didn't carry it in the first place. I BITE MY THUMB AT YOU, Macy's.

Yeah, I'm calling out a mega corporation on my blog. What of it?

But wait, it gets worse from there! As most of you know, I moved last summer and then again this autumn, so there was some confusion as to where to send things to begin with. On top of that, I left town for two weeks and won't be home until next year, so anyone who wanted to send anything to me in a timely manner, would need to forward their packages to an address they were completely unfamiliar with.

In my own holiday hurry, I left off part of that unfamiliar address. Yeah...

So I had to contact everyone last-minute I had given the wrong address to and give them the right one. Then, they would need to call whatever parcel service they'd used and forward that information on to them. It wasn't just an inconvenience for others though. Even gifts I had ordered myself, for others, had to be changed day-of-delivery! Otherwise there would be no Christmas here at all.

Only problem? I'm staying with the people the gifts are for and had no way of getting online or calling to correct the misinformation without them knowing! However, with a lot of deep breaths, covert texting,  and the saint-like patience of my mother (across the country) we managed to get everything corrected in time. Thank goodness!

Kudos to Fedex for being particularly helpful, and the USPS as well. The only tricky situation I was left with was getting to and from UPS, who after changing the address for me refused to deliver the package. Forcing me have to go pick it up. With the person it was for. Forcing me to also lie about it.

Now I can relax, feast, and be merry with the rest of the world. Happy holidays!

Good Deeds

So in our new place, as with our old place, there are cats a-plenty outside, most of which have nearby homes. Since the first week we've been here however, there has been this fluffy black cat camped out on our door step. Every time I step out to shop or get the mail he tries to force his way into our place. This has earned him the name, "Intruder Cat." His fur is matted and he's kind of dirty, but I wasn't sure as to whether or not he was actually homeless... So I avoided letting him in.

Some people just don't take very good care of their pets, or don't know how to. So it was entirely possible they just forget to let him back inside sometimes and do not bathe or brush him. Not that I could blame them on the bathing part. Bathing cats is usually both an exercise in futility and an excuse to buy a whole new box of bandaids.

After a few months and his constant appearances at my door step, I began to truly consider the fact that he may have no place else to go. As the days started getting shorter, the nights colder, and at all times considerably more rainy, I started letting him inside. Just for short whiles. Long enough to make sure he had a warm nap and a full tummy. We had a bag of kitten chow from a year or so back just going to waste on the shelf, so I figured why not?  He didn't seem to get regular meals. He could use the extra calories and vitamins kitten chow provided.

Then the other day a neighbor of mine confirmed my suspicions: Intruder Cat was indeed homeless and had been for a year or more. The neighbor was, strangely enough, about to put out a little plate of food for Intruder himself. He said he often pitied him as well, but with his own cat, could not adopt him since he couldn't be sure as to whether or not Intruder had any of his shots. He did not want to put his current pets at any health risk which is understandable.

That's when I decided I'd start a fund for him, to get him to a Vet and make sure he's got all his vaccinations up-to-date and a clean bill of health. Thus far several friends and family members have made pledges to his cause. So even if we do not end up keeping him, he'll at least be healthy.

He's well mannered enough, so it's unlikely that he is feral (born wild). So the sad fact of the matter was, someone had bought him as a kitten and then when they moved out, simply left him outside to fend for himself.

This has all been going on for some time now. Recently there has been a second stray hanging around. Not on our door step specifically, but under our neighbor's window. So when there was a big commotion out there earlier today while Aaron was at class, I assumed it was just an altercation between my neighbor and the unwelcome feline. To my surprise when I looked outside I saw the commotion was actually animal control putting the new stray into a cage and going for Intruder next! The neighbors had called animal control to come solve the stray problem.

It's fairly common knowledge that if you bring a pet you can no longer care for into the pound, they give it two weeks to be adopted and then euthanize it. What most people don't know is that animals that are picked up after a complaint call are usually only held for twenty-four to forty-eight hours before they are euthanized. Just enough time for anyone who realizes their pet is missing to call and reclaim them. They are considered troublesome animals. They don't get a chance at adoption.

Upon seeing this my first thought was, "I need to put pants on," followed immediately by, "I don't have time to put my pants on!" Instead I ran outside in my bath robe. To save a cat. When Intruder saw me he ran towards me (imagine any cheesy beach scene where the man and woman run at each other from opposite sides of the screen) and I scooped him into my arms. I then gave both my neighbor and animal control a cross look, proclaimed Intruder as mine, and went inside.Probably looking more than a little like some crazy cat-woman.

So now he's sitting here in my armchair snoozing while I consider what to do with him. We go out of town for two weeks tomorrow. He can't stay inside by himself (just yet). I know I'll have to put him back out when we go, but I just want to be sure he isn't taken by animal control while I'm away. The other neighbors put some food out for their own pets, so I know he won't go hungry and I live in a place where it never drops below freezing so he won't be too cold. I guess I'll head over to the market and buy him a collar... Just in case.

Oh, Hello

I can't promise anything, as I typically write elsewhere. However, that elsewhere is undergoing change for the worse, so perhaps this will be my new venue? We'll see. Either way, I'm here because of her. She's far more interesting than I am, she has a dog.