New Form of Transportation

Comfortable chair that is on a platform supported by a ton of tiny horses.

Gaming again

Against all expectations, Microsoft returned my Xbox 360 in a timely manner and I'm gaming again. Remember kids: aim low.



Once I got my system in the mail, my Xbox repair proceeded like last time. I waited two weeks, then a new system arrived with a note explaining that "so I can get back to playing and enjoying my Xbox quicker, Microsoft has replaced my Xbox console with a replacement unit."

This was a surprise, as my personalized Xbox Web site showed no repair status -- only the option to place a new repair. It said my warranty extended until February 2009, which was a good sign, given that my warranty should have been expired.

As I mentioned in a previous post, the phone tree was awful and frustrating. After a few weeks of blind faith following my shipping of my console, I called again, and the robot operator told me it had been received.

I gained some reassurance from this, but still had no idea when I'd get my 360 back. Just as I was cursing Microsoft for their failed repair service amidst their major Xbox Live revamp coming tomorrow, my super delivered some good news.

"You have a mail," he said.

I thanked him and went to his door.

"Also, you have a package."

And my super handed me a brand new Xbox, hopefully built to last this time.

I promptly unpacked it and started playing Guitar Hero World Tour, which I'd received from GameFly to little use a few days ago. I enjoyed myself, although Justin had already shown me what what in store via his Wii version. What I was unprepared for was the need to playing Hotel California to get the needed cash to buy the Tool level. This seemed to me to be unnecessarily cruel, but I played the rotten song for the money for the first and last time. I'd have been madder if not for the inclusion of Play it Again in GHWT and Bodhisattva in Rock Band 2. Respect The Dan.

Anyway, thanks, Microsoft, for defying my expectations. You may make an injury-prone console, but it's still my favorite, and you do a good job of patching it up when needed.

Small creatures and their reactions to me

Cats: At best, indifferent. At worst, urinating on my bed.
Dogs: Love my grooves. All about my lap and scratching hands.
Lizards: Undecided.
Human babies: Cautiously intrigued. They see something interesting, but potentially dangerous in me. A finger grab here or there, sure. But just on the edge of high pitched shrieks.
Hermit crabs: Pinchy at first, then content to climb on me.
Squirrels: Hesitant unless I have food, in which case, hungry, bitey.

Oh, Microsoft

I realize this may be the least original observation one can make on the internet, but I'd still like to point out that Microsoft sucks.

This post is not meant to be constructive or move any dialogue forward; I simply need to share my Xbox 360 repair experience to make myself feel better.

First, some background. About a year and a half ago, my original Xbox 360 ceased to read game discs or DVDs. Sure, it would try, but it inevitably produced a disc read error upon scanning even the most pristine discs. I'm well aware that there is a cache fix to this problem -- it didn't help. So I sent the console for repair, and received a new one.

Now, I'm again faced with a useless console, this time thanks to the Red Ring of Death indicating a "general hardware failure." I didn't expect to encounter this given it was a newish console and all the PR work Microsoft has done to assure gamers that the RRoD issue is basically solved.

Thankfully, a lifetime of working with Microsoft products dating back to MS-DOS and the Blue Screen of Death days of Windows 3.1 (and beyond), my expectations are low. I took my malfunctioning console in stride, and resigned myself to a game-free couple of weeks. Yes, the timing is atrocious with the release of Fallout 3 and Guitar Hero World Tour (featuring, OMG, a Tool level), not to mention the time-suck that is NHL '09's Be a Pro mode. But as the friendly guitar player on the E train this weekend sang, que sera sera.

And yet, Microsoft keeps pushing me. It's taken me four separate attempts to place a repair order. Attempt one went well, I thought. I went online, entered my information, submitted the request, and received a confirmation email. Great. But then I received a phone message from "a supervisor with Xbox" giving me a reference number asking me to call them to confirm my address. Again? I wondered. So I called back and eventually gave up after being on hold for too long.

Attempt two put me in touch with a friendly, but ultimately unhelpful customer service agent. I tried to explain that I'd already placed a repair order and only needed to confirm my address, but he insisted on taking down all of my information again. After several minutes of this he gave me a new reference number and asked me to call back in two hours, as their system was down. Confused, I made sure I heard him right. I did: my phone call had been in vain because he was unable to confirm my address due to a Microsoft customer service system update. I managed to remain friendly and said I'd call back.

Upon calling back three hours later, and once more navigating the phone tree*, I reached a less friendly customer service agent. I explained the situation and he said the system was still down -- I'd need to call back tomorrow. "Can't you please just write my address down and enter it once the system is up?" I asked. He said he could not.

Attempt four came today and was the longest of all. The rep I spoke with refused to go off script, meaning most things I told her were met with an "I apologize for the inconvenience" or other such automatic response. She also insisted on starting the process from the beginning, meaning I needed to dig up my serial number and give her all my info again. She had no interest in my reference numbers I'd been dutifully writing down each step of the way. At long last, she gave me a third reference number, and claimed my repair request was now official. Shortly thereafter, I received a print-it-yourself mailing label from UPS. Unlike last time, where Microsoft mailed me a pre-addressed shipping box, I now must find a box and ship my broken Xbox back to them myself. This is a minor annoyance, but significant because of the added difficulty of accomplishing any kind of simple errand in New York City.

I appreciate that Microsoft will fix my console for free. I don't appreciate all the time this takes to accomplish, and the continued shoddiness of their gaming system. I like the thing enough to have invested in it over the PS3 or Wii. Yet every time I have to put up with something like this to play it, it pushes me further away from Microsoft. I've already abandoned my PC in favor of a Mac with no regrets. The Xbox 360 is Microsoft's last stand for my brand loyalty, and they're blowing it.

*The phone tree is obnoxious. At no point was I given a direct number to call or a way to reach an operator. The best way I could find to reach a human to give my address to was to navigate to the repair section and repeatedly mash 0 until the robot on the other end stopped saying "I didn't catch that" and relented and said "let me see if someone is available."

Hockey is back

Remaining hockey fans, I make a plea: come back to your sport. It's still sweet. I know you bailed when the salary cap robbed you of all your superstars, but the league-promised equality is settling in and hockey's just as fun to watch as ever.

I'm an Avs fan.

I attended the first game of the Avs' pre-season. I was terribly impressed by T.J. Hensick, but he's been banished to the Lowell Lock Monsters. I understand, although I'm disappointed he won't be around until one of our high-scoring stars is injured. Bringing in Czech star Hlinka is good news, though. Having spent a couple days in Prague, I find myself rooting for all Czechoslovakian hockey players. I never made it to Bratislava (both Rick Steves and a fellow traveler advised against a visit), but I fully support Slovaks like Marek Svatos (this is his year, I swear), Peter Budaj and man-giant Zdeno Chára.

Here's how I see our lines:

1. Smyth-Sakic-Brunette
2. Hlinka-Stastny-Hejduk
3. Wolski-Arnason-Svatos
4. McCormick-Richardson-Laperriere
   

Hejduk's top line material by any measure, but I want him to be our Forsey, putting up mad points against the other team's weak-ass second D-pair. Also, this brings a Czechoslovakian alliance to the second line. It worked for Jagr and Straka, so it'll work for Hlinka and Hejduk. Stastny's technically a North American/Denverite, but I'm calling him a Slovak for convenience's sake and a blind faith in some mysterious Czechoslovakian bond. Maybe this is the Urquell talking, but it all seems so right.

As for the third line, I feel Wolski and Svatos can and will put up big numbers if given enough ice time. Let these talented Eastern Europeans strut their stuff. Roll three lines equally, Joel, and watch as they all scorch overrated division rival goalies Luongo, Kiprusoff and Backstrom. These guys will shine against our rivals' bush-league third D-pairings. Svatos can burn anyone he wants one-on-one and Wolski's craftiness and ridiculously long stick will make mincemeat out of those peep-mouses. Arnason was our best player no doubt in lots of the games in the Avs' crazy late-season run last year, so he's going to freak people out again when they least expect it. Remember how he was going to be the hottness with the Sens? Well, that happened, except he's the Avs' third line center now tearing people up solo unless he needs to dish it to one of the magic Eastern Europeans for a tasty one-timer.

That takes us to the Avs' fourth line. Frankly, I don't care who's on it so long as they forecheck like idiots, finish their checks and crash the net also like idiots. Lappy will do these things, no question. He's also a hero-leader and amazingly good at popping off opponents' helmets during fights. I trust Brad Richardson and Cody McCormick to do the same once they're healthy.

Then there's the D. Add Hannan and Leopold, subtract Breezeby and Vaananen, and you've got a solid core. I'm seeing:

1. Hannan and Skrastins
   
2. Liles and Leopold
3. Clark and Sauer
   

All things considered, the Avs will do better than John "poor music taste" Buccigross' seventh-in-the-West prediction, barring widespread injuries.

This team dominated the end of last season and has only gotten better since then. It's not as easy to insist they'll win the Cup as it used to be, but these guys aren't missing any parts and have proved some mettle recently. I have hope again and recommend you join me as they clutch the Campbell and beat the Drury-led Rangers in seven next year.

ESPN: What are they doing, currently?

Gary Thorne: Montana-based gun salesman since 2005. Pump action, rare items.

Bill Clement: Eats a kind-of cereal he invented, using granola and pomade, for breakfast five days a week.

Barry Melrose: Blew savings on hookers, blow.

Craig Kilborn: Insulting women he just met at a hotel bar in Milwaukee.

Chris Berman: Nicknaming his ties.

That one guy who was kind of funny and was always in the commercials with some mascot: Unknown.

Al Unser, Jr.: Racing cars.

Bristol, Conn.: Still picturesque and strikingly green in the spring.

Ray Ferraro: Grooming (removing corn from) his beard.

How to Care for Plants

This is meant to be a practical guide to keeping plants alive; not information on getting touchy-feely for their benefit. If you're seeking the latter, this is not the guide for you. You want savetheplants.com, or perhaps plantfeelings.com. Nor am I talking about factory maintenance. That’s handled by reactor-upkeep.com.

So. Caring for plants. Keeping them alive. It seems simple, until you buy one. You water it; you feed it; it dies. What went wrong?

I’m here to tell you that popular wisdom is wrong. Unlike children, there is a lot more to caring for plants than just watering and feeding them. Guess what — you shouldn’t even feed them.

If you’re wondering why I’m an authority on plant care, trust me, I’ve got credentials. No, I don’t have any plants in my apartment — don’t need ‘em. But I do have two healthy and happy plants at my desk at work and they are fucking thriving. If they could talk, they would thank me constantly until I pruned off their vocal chords. Actually, I would sell them to a botanist for at least a mil each.

But my dream of growing talking plants and becoming a millionaire is not the point. The point is you and your dumb plants and how you keep killing them. The point is that they’re dying because you’re not following my patented System for Successful Plant Care in the Office Environment*, which follows below. I developed this system through trial and success — note the lack of error — and my leafy green babies are living testaments to its validity.

The System

1. Water your plants with backwash three times per week.

   This is essential to The System’s success. You can remember this step with the helpful acronym WPBTTW, which is pronounced “wuh-PEE-bee-tuhtuh-double-you.” It doesn’t matter which days you water, but Monday/Wednesday/Friday is a good schedule because of its beautifully symmetrical on-off-on-off-on timing. What is important is the three-times-per-week part, and the backwash, which I will get to, hold on. You can double up if it’s Friday and you missed a day — that is better than waiting until Monday. But for God’s sake, don’t triple-up if you forgot to water the poor guy all week. That will drown it and it will die. The goal here is the plant not dying, so don’t triple-up. As for the backwash, don’t ask me why it works; I’m not a scientist. But I do know that something about backwash, or at least my backwash, keeps plants alive. If it’s not obvious, the backwash should come from your water bottle. Assuming you’re also trying to keep yourself alive, you should be watering yourself throughout the day by drinking water. Sometimes you forget and only drink coffee, and then only drink beer at night and get dehydrated, but that’s OK. There should always be a little water left (about two three good swigs) in your water bottle by the time you’re ready to go home. You can do a few things at this point. You can finish drinking the water, you can pour it out, or you can give it to your thirsty plant, you greedy bastard. He doesn’t care that what’s left of your water is mostly spit! He just wants a drink! Pour your spit-water into the dirt your plant is packed in (hopefully you have dirt … plants need dirt and I’m assuming you already know that by the time you’ve reached this guide … do you even have a plant?).

2. Don’t feed your plants.

   I already covered this in the introduction. I know, I know: it’s counterintuitive. Plants are living things, and living things eat food, so you should feed your plant, right? Wrong. You probably dump the crumbs from the bottom of your vending machine Cheetoes into your plant. Frito-Lay leavings are like poison to plants. This is because plants use photosynthesis, which means that rather than food, plants eat light. Which takes me to step three of The System.

3. Rotate, rotate, rotate.

   This is the law of both hot dogs and plants. People (stupid people) think they can just leave their plants by a window (you did put it in direct sunlight, didn’t you? God help you and your plants) and be done with them. No! What about the dark side? Don’t you think that wants some light, too? Have you noticed the way its leaves are reaching, yearning towards the light? That means the plant is hungry … hungry for light. Turn it 180 degrees so that its leaves are pointing away from the light. If the leaves are all just shooting out at random directions, then give the plant a good turn and that’ll do. There is no rule to how often you should rotate your plants — use your gut.

4. Don’t talk to your plants, and certainly don’t sing to them.

   This only pisses your plants off. They can’t understand you.

5. Inherit plants; do not buy them.

   All the plants I’ve ever bought at a store have died, even when I use The System (ignore the paradox here). I don’t know why — again, not a scientist — but plants hate being bought and sold. They know, somehow. To keep plants alive, acquire them through other means.

   The two plants I have, those jade soldiers of longevity, cost me nothing. I took them in because they were unwanted. You could say I adopted them, although I never signed any papers. The first one, whose leaves are long and pointy with sharp, pink edges, used to belong to my first boss. She left it in my care when she got a new job. And wouldn’t you know it, she’d received it from her old boss, who’d left it in her care. I suspect it has been passed through companies internal communications departments for Time Immemorial, and will continue to do so as long as the cycle remains unbroken. If it has an origin, it appears to have started its life somewhere tropical and prehistoric. It would be at home in an episode of The Flintstones. The other one features thick, hearty stems and teardrop leaves that curl like tongues thumbing their noses at Death. The tongue plant came from my mom. She’d left it on the counter after moving out. I went to supervise the movers and discovered it. I was confident in my plantkeeping skills, having kept the first plant alive for several months already, so it took it and put it in my trunk. It lived there for a couple weeks until an intern came to work with us. She was lamenting her lack of cubicle decorations when I remembered the plant in my trunk. I gave it to her, and she gave it back when she left. It’s still alive because of The System.

Did I mention my plants have names? They don't. Plants don't go anywhere, so you never have to name them.

*Patent pending

Movie Poster Review: Are We Done Yet?

New poster from ex-NWA rapper Ice Cube’s film fails on many levels

Few had high hopes for the latest poster from Sony Pictures’ print marketing team, but they somehow failed to meet even the most meager expectations. This poster is a disaster of promotion; serving only to discourage those who see it from seeing “Are We Done Yet?”

The poster’s biggest misstep is its tagline: “From the studio that brought you “Are We There Yet.” Even if the postermaker didn’t write it, he or she should have refused to use this awful line and replaced it with almost any sentence imaginable. The sentence presumably is there to indicate that although the director and writers have changed, this is in fact the sequel to “Are We There Yet?” It also makes the ludicrous implicit claim that someone saw the first film and would want to see another one. But phrasing it like that just points out the fact that the key people involved with the first film are gone. Doubtless, they responded to the studio’s request to produce another one with derisive laughter. The tagline also implies that someone would be enticed by the continuity of studios, as though someone who saw “Are We There Yet” was impressed with the job the studio did distributing the initial film and would want to see what they did with the second one. Did anyone think about this before committing the sentence to the poster?

The featured scene itself does little to encourage anyone to see the movie and only serves to promote bad ladder safety. Rather than focusing on the female lead’s cleavage or something funny about the movie, the poster merely gives us a startled and dismayed Ice Cube climbing a ladder. His family — rather than hold onto the precarious ladder — just smiles at us with their cold, dead eyes. That “O” isn’t going to hold the thing for long, and the ladder has a troubling bend to it. People: this is no way to do ladder work. There will be a lot of broken necks in America if we follow this poster’s lead.

But safety issues aside, are we to believe Ice Cube is the only draw this movie has? Why is the ladder more prominent than any of the film’s other actors, or even the bug-eyed raccoon? John McGinley’s in the movie — where’s he? It looks like Ice Cube gathered all his tools and his Compton Cougars jersey and is trying to climb to heaven to escape his embarrassing family of unknown supporting actors. If the movie’s star wants out, where does that leave its viewers? Is there a pole to hell we can slide down if the blandness of the comedy gets to be too much? One can only hope.

And back to the raccoon: why is it there? Maybe the postermaker thought that Cube, the ladder and his boring family won’t be enough to lure movie watchers, but toss a raccoon in there and who knows? Yes, raccoons have been used to great comedic effect in Steve Zahn films (Safe Men, Saving Silverman, etc.), but Steve Zahn’s not even in this movie. And who decided to makes its eyes all big and cartoony? The raccoon looks pretty realistic in the preview, so why go with this ridiculous-looking creature on the poster? Did someone look at a poster draft with the real raccoon and say, “that raccoon’s not funny enough, intern, can’t you punch it up a bit in Photoshop?” Clearly, yes, and the intern did a crappy job.

Basically, this poster is a disaster eclipsed only by the film’s potential for unwatchability. Don’t look at this poster.

.5 stars out of 5

Bonus quote/why I pretend it is still 1992:

“Strollin' to your suburb house, and I douse with gas, now who's cleanin' up trash?” Ice Cube, The Predator

Product Review: F-Fone

Unless you’re living under Iraq, you’ve been bombarded with weeks of hype surrounding today’s launch for the Cony F-Fone. Our editorial team had to see for itself what all the talk was about, so we sent our tech reporter Craig out to pick one up at Big Lots!. Now, having thoroughly played with the thing, we’re ready to give you the complete scoop.

First off, anyone who camped out to be first in line for this thing is an idiot — there were plenty to go around. Craig apparently forgot to set his alarm, and didn’t get to the store until around 11:30, but the shelves at Big Lots! were stacked. $149.99 later, Considered Spew was the proud new owner of a genuine F-Fone.

The first thing we noticed upon opening the package was how small and portable the thing is. At the approximate size and weight of two Swingline staplers, the F-Fone is hardly a burden on the go, especially if you pick up the Cony Carrying Belt, which comes in both brown and light brown and is yours for a mere $19.99.

You’re probably wondering why you would want to take a phone with you when you leave the house. Even my 2 GHZ cordless loses some reception by the time I hit the driveway. But that’s what’s so revolutionary about the F-Fone — it keeps working, even miles away from its charger base (also $19.99). You see, that’s what the “F” stands for: free. You’re free to go where you want, when you want, even if you’re waiting for a call.

To test the thing’s range, we had Craig take the F-Fone with him when he went to pick up the staff’s lunchtime burritos. When we called, there was no response. The phone just rang and rang and then went to an automated voice messaging system, which, we might add, was very easy to use — a friendly operator-bot tells you to leave a message after a tone, which followed promptly as promised. We told Craig to call us as soon as possible, as we were hungry and beginning to snack and lose our will to power through our Chicken Fajita Burritos. And he did! From the burrito restaurant — it worked! Craig said he was just in the middle of paying when we called, but that it totally rang and he had no problems dialing out.

Speaking of the ring, that’s another fun feature. The default sound is a MIDI-powered, musical rendition of Fur Elise (a Beethoven tune that just happens to be a favorite around the office). And if you don’t dig on classical, you can change the song to Carmen (from an opera, we think) or something that sounded like salsa (the musical style, not the dip). But that’s just the tip of the aural hat.

Yes, we’re alluding to the F-Fone’s most ballyhooed feature: the ability to listen to music through your phone. Using the included Songadapter Connection Cord™, you simply plug your phone into your CD or tape player’s headphone port. Then you hit play and the music plays through the F-Fone’s built in speakers! The music feature currently only works on Cony’s proprietary Walkguy or Discfellow portable tape and CD players, but the instruction manual says third-party support is coming soon through an aftermarket adapter.

So … the F-Fone makes and receives calls from anywhere in town, and it plays your favorite recordings. Are there any downsides to this fantastical new product? There are a few, but they’re hardly enough to discourage us from recommending the sexy little phone-on-the-go. First is the Cony Carrying Belt’s current lack of availability. Craig said Big Lots! didn’t have any, and judging from the confused responses from the other stores’ employees we called, you won’t find one at Circuit City or Target, either. Your best bet would be the Cony Web site, which is currently under construction. Just wait it out and get the belt once the site’s up, because unless you have a purse, you’re going to get tired of carrying your F-Fone around, although it does attract a lot of attention from jealous passersby, which is always nice.

The other problem is the battery situation. The F-Fone runs on eight AA batteries, and it sucks that juice down faster than a Trainyard Hobo. The office Game Gear has a similar problem, which we’ve remedied by rotating two sets of rechargeable batteries. Unfortunately, the F-Fone instruction manual is quite clear that rechargeables are not compatible with the F-Fone and will destroy the unit. So until you can get your hands on the Cony Charging Station, which also suffers from availability problems, you’re going to be buying a lot of batteries. The manual says using non-Cony brand batteries will void your warranty, but we doubt they have any way of knowing and recommend using whatever AAs are cheapest.

The F-Fone from Cony is a relatively small package that packs a relatively large amount of punch/features. If you’re sick of missing calls because you’re out running errands or whatever, this is the phone for you. Plus, it plays music!

Product specs:

Dimensions: 6.6 x 2.4 x 2.4 inches

Weight: 2.4 pounds

Screen: No

Range: At least from the office to the burrito place (about 1.5 miles)

Storage: 8 AA batteries

Can be stored in: Cony Carrying Belt (sold separately) or a purse/European carryall

Wired data: Can transmit Walkguy or Discfellow music data via Songadapter Connection Cord™

Power: 8 AA Batteries or Cony Charging Station, both of which provide 40 minutes of talk time (20 minutes if using music player)

Input method: Buttons (on, off, all the numbers) and volume wheel