The Annekenstein Monster

I’m pretty sure they’re telemarketers.  And I’m 100% positive that they are annoying the hell out of me.
It started yesterday evening.  A phone call, from an unknown name, and the number is a Toronto-based long-distance number.  That’s always meant “telemarketer”.  I answer it and say “Hello.”    All I hear on the other end is beep beep beep, with the beeps about a second or so apart.   I figure it’s their automated “an actual human answered the random phone number, so connect it with a human voice” machine not recognising that I exist.  Not too hurt that a machine doesn’t recognise my being-ness, I hang up.
About five minutes later, another call, the same number.  Again with the beeps.  I hang up. 
Five more minutes later, the same thing again.  Shortly thereafter, a phone call to my son.  After his call is over, there is a message.  It’s from the same phone number, and the message is this:  “beep… beep… beep…etc.”  I am angry.  There is something unholy and wrong about going through the too-long automated procedure to retrieve a phone message which turns out to be a beeping automated machine.
I begin to search through Eastlink’s website to see what I can do, and I discover their “call screen” option, which basically blocks the number from ringing through.  But before I trouble myself with setting that up, I get sidetracked by something else and forget about it.  There were no more calls last night to remind me.
This morning another call comes through.  A different long-distance number.  This one from Halifax.  I answer and get the beep beep beep.  It instantly, and only momentarily, infuriates me.  I begin to go through the trouble of screening this new number.
The wireless phone we have in our office is infuriating as well.  You really have to depress some of the numbers really hard before they register.  You have to press so hard that usually when it does register, the number is registered twice.  So often you have to hang up and start again.  Well, not only do I have that to contend with, but the Eastlink Call Screen thing doesn’t seem to work from a wireless phone.  At least, not from this wireless phone.
So, to teach it all a lesson, I refuse to go into the kitchen, to the wired phone and enter the call screen number from there.  Besides, it doesn’t seem right that one would have to block a number after the fact.  I think to myself I should call Eastlink to see if there is another, easier, solution.  I do not call Eastlink.
This afternoon, a different long-distance Halifax number, but the same result:  beep beep beep.  That’s it!  Lesson over.  I go to the kitchen wired phone and instruct the Call Screen to screen that phone number.
My wife calls Eastlink to see what can be done.  The Eastlink Rep surmises to her that perhaps it’s a fax machine trying to call through to our number.  She also recommends that we do the Call Screen thing.  She asks if there’s anything else she can help us with, and then hangs up.
Not satisfied that it could be a fax, and a little bit angry that such a solution would be suggested, I call Eastlink back and get another Rep.  I tell him the problem, explain that I assume it’s an automated telemarketer machine not recognising, blah blah blah.  He agrees, and offers to block the numbers for me, and tells me about the Call Screen service.  I ask, plead, that there must be another option that doesn’t involve “after the bothersome interruption” reactive solutions.  He says “not really” but that he’d put a call into a long-distance repair specialist, and would email his supervisor on the matter.  I hang up, dejected, imagining three or four different autoated long-distance telemarketing machines calling me each day, forcing me to block all those numbers.
A few minutes after that, another long-distance call comes in.  Thinking it was another beep beep beep, I was delighted that it was an actual human:  the eastlink repairman.  I explain to him the problem and he gruffly says that it’s telemarketing and that the only option is to do the Call Screen thing.  He then goes on to explain what Call Screen is.  I interrupt him to say that I know what it is, and in fact, I already entered the most recent culprit-number to be screened.  He informs me that there is no screened number on my account.  I assure him that is, or there should be, as I just set up the screen not five minutes ago.  He insists it is not and rather patronizingly instructs me on what I may have done wrong.  I accept the patronizing tone because I probably deserve it.  We hang up.
I dial into the Call Screen program, and realise that I did, in fact, enter the number, but failed to initiate the service.
So, I initiated the service, entered the phone numbers of the culprit-numbers, and hope that not many more try to contact us.  In the meantime, I’ve entered my info into the Do Not Contact service provided by the Canadian Marketing Association.  I doubt it’ll do much good (it takes about six weeks to come into effect, apparently), but perhaps it’ll help a bit.
Bleepin, Telemarketers!

And that, my friends, is a loaded question.
Last night, the boys and girls of American Idol performed Queen songs.  Now, when a rock group’s de facto leader, front man and perceived main talent dies, I think the proper thing to do is to fold up the tent, say thanks for the moments in the sun, and move on to other projects.  It is my belief that a band should not call itself Queen any longer if Freddy Mercury is no longer in the band.  I don’t care who wrote the songs, who was the brains behind the group.  To me, Queen should not possibly exist anymore.  Freddy Mercury was Queen.  Queen should have died when he died.  Understand?  It’s like if Sketch22 tried to continue on without Matt Rainnie.  It just shouldn’t be attempt – okay, bad analogy.
So, when the remaining members of what-I-will-call Queen After Freddy Mercury, or QAFM  (a great radio station, by the way) come on to American Idol, to me, it’s like two whores meeting each other on the street corner.  One whore is old and ugly.  Tired and cranky, she still insists on making tricks, even though her vagina was removed years ago.  She hangs out for a little while with the fresh young popular, Incredibly Vacuous whore, who would do anything, Anything, to become more popular.
So, big effin deal, QAFM is on the show.  Yay for AI doing a Queen night, but Boo for making us look at those ugly old snatches.
Onto the AI Whore-prodigies:

Bucky – Damn you, America, for not voting Bucky out earlier in the series.  Now I find myself actually starting to take him seriously.  In the past couple of weeks, he’s performed better, looked better and probably secured himself a spot in at least the Top 5.  It’s interesting: the more “seasoned” Bucky becomes, the less I like his personality.  Back in the early weeks, when he was a bit more naive and innocent, he had a wonderful “aw-shucks” personality.  Now, as his confidence and fame grow, he’s becoming more like Kid-Rock.  And you know that ain’t good.  Bucky did a pretty good job, turning a Queen song into a country-rocker.  And while I don’t particularly like country-rocker songs, I think he is more than safe this week.
Ace – Here, then, is the most ironic moment of the night, for me.  Ace wants to rearrange a Queen song and QAFM act all high-and-mighty and say (paraphrased) “no, we won’t consider such a thing.  The song will not be ruined in that way.”  Yet, here they are, QAFM (still in existence without Freddy Mercury, remember), allowing middling-talent performers to sing their songs, which are, by the way, re-arranged to fit into a 1:20 time-frame.  I mean, seriously, QAFM refuses Ace a military marching beat behind “We Will Rock You” (something I would have been interested to hear, by the way), yet sees no problem in playing a 1:20 second version of Bohemian Rhapsody?  Isn’t that a bit hypocritical?  Whores, I say!!  The judges didn’t like Ace, Simon complaining that he was too karaoke.  Okay, so answer me this:  How can the song not sound like a karaoke version when the band refuses any other different arrangement of it?  It sounded karaoke because QAFM practically demanded it.  I thought Ace did an okay job.  I was surprised to hear the judges rail on him, and put it down to The Politics of Judging Favourites.  I did laugh when Paula said, as if sympathising with them, she understood that QAFM didn’t want their songs”bastardized”, realizing of course, that the audition weeks of the show are nothing more than hours full of glorified bastardizations of all songs.
Kellie – Like everyone else in the free-thinking world, I expected Kellie to horribly bastardize Bohemian Rhapsody. Like Simon said: “On paper, it shouldn’t work.”  I was saddened that she didn’t ruin the song.  I am in the unwinnable position of wanting Kellie to a) stick around week after week, because she’s the shows only non-singing entertainment right now.  Her idiocy  (“On paper?  What?  Simon, the phrases you use sometimes are beyond me!”) equals ratings, and b) bomb badly, like I know she’s always on the verge of doing.  Sadly, her bombing is becoming less rare, yet her stupidity seems to know no limits.  I wasn’t nearly as whelmed by her singing and the judges were.  I thought she sang it a bit automatony.  She faked her way through it, as far as “rocking it”.  And her southern accent is amazingly strong, even when she sings.  Most people have the ability to lose, somewhat, their accent when they sing, but Pickler’s remains strong.  And a strong southern accent does not suit this song at all.  I didn’t like it much.
Chris – I think Simon is onto something, when he says that Chris picks indulgent songs.  Or, rather, sings them (arranges them?) in an indulgent way.  He changes them into a way that suits his comfort zone, which is “heavy, alternative rocker”.  I’m not sure if this is a bad thing, though.  After all, Bucky does the same thing (he “countrifies” all songs) and gets applauded for it.  I think what Simon is getting at is that Chris is getting boring and if he doesn’t change up his routine pretty soon, we are all going to get really tired of him, even if he does what he does really well (and he does).  I’m getting bored with him.  It’s really a double-edged sword.  He’s constantly being told “sing to your strengths” and “mix it up” at the same time.  All of them are constantly getting that mixed message of course, but it stands out with Chris because he is so very much of one style of singing.  (I don’t think Bucky gets harped on for his “countryfying” of songs because it’s believed that’s all he can do.  Chris probably has the ability to successfully reach out beyond his comfort zone).  Good job, last night, by Chris, but it’s getting to the point where it’s “who cares?”
Katharine – Personally, I was disappointed that she changed her song from a bouncy upbeat number to a stand-there-and-sing ballad.  I like seeing her bounce.  I am having a hard time remembering her performance, but I seem to remember thinking that she did a good job with it.  That, actually, is my problem with Katharine.  She’s forgettable to me.  Yeah, she’s pretty, seems like a nice person, does a good job each week.  But in the end, she is yawn-inducing.  She lacks spark.  She’ll go far.
Elliott – Elliott did a better job this week than he’s done in weeks past.  But I still cannot get behind him.  He just doesn’t have the composure to be “STAR!”.  I hope he proves me wrong.
Taylor – I was worried when Taylor changed his song to “Crazy Little Thing Called Love”.  Scared when he wanted to highlight his dancing, which isn’t strong.  In the past, when he’s tried upbeat 50’s-styled songs like this, he’s pretty much failed.  I’m thinking of that Buddy Holly song he murdered a few weeks ago.  Good for him, then, for pretty much kicking the shit out of this song and owning it.  I thought he did a great job.  I still have a hard time buying his “antics”, but I think he (and Paris) has a fantastic ability to own a song simply by singing the hell out of it.  Just don’t like, so much, his wacky personality.
Paris – Despite a couple of pitch problems, I thought her performance was, by far, the best of the night.  She has incredible control of stage presence, and has the voice to back it up. 
Vocally speaking, I think the final two should be Taylor and Paris.  Final four should be those two, plus Katharine and Chris.
Bottom three tonight:  Kellie, Elliott, Ace
The One To Go:  Ace  (or Elliott)

Technorati Tags: American Idol, Queen, recap

I will be *so* camping out in front of the Charlottetown Mall Cinemas the night before this opens.
This is a really well-made trailer.

I cannot believe the number of letters and emails I’ve received asking me to set up a daily trivia contest here at The Annekenstein Monster.  An unbelievable None in the last month alone.

Anyway, I was made aware of this site, and how one could set up one’s own trivia game, so that’s what I did.
You can play The Annekenstein Monster Daily Trivia here.  I’ve also added a link on the side of the blog here.  You do have to sign up to the site, but it doesn’t look like your email gets harvested for spam, or anything like that.

It’s pretty good, I guess, as far as online trivia goes.  Random trivia, daily. Answer questions as fast as you can, because faster answering reaps more points.  Keeps track of month-long scores, so, you know, you can beat me both daily and monthly.
One thing to note:  Apparently, each player each day receives different questions.  In other words, if 5 people play my trivia game today, each of the 5 would receive 10 different questions from each other.  So, some days, you might get easier questions and others get harder questions, but I assume it all equals out over the long haul.
And I know how into the long haul you all are.

So, play it or not. Play it daily, to ensure your monthly scores are as high as possible. Hopefully it’ll catch on and we can have some impersonal fun together.

Yesterday, our dryer went on life support.  It was no longer functioning as a dryer should.  We suspected internal damage, perhaps beyond repair.  The washer, which has been “married” (but only common-law) to the dryer for maybe 30 years or more, wanted us to unplug her so she could die a natural death.
We couldn’t do that.  We still had hope upon hope that there was life yet in the old girl; that she might come out of the coma and once again dry our clothes the way she used to.  So soft and fluffy.  And warm.  We couldn’t let her go.  The washer said it’s done (calling her “it” – so cold.  And damp) It was an impasse.
So, there we were, last night, the washer was on one side of her, with a full load of damp clothes, already ready to move on to a more modern and attractive model of dryer.  I couldn’t believe its cold-hearted detachment.  I mean, what is the washer?  A machine!?  They spent 30 years together, washing and drying in harmony.  However it turned out, I knew that I would forever hate that bastard washer from here on.  I spent the entire night, on the other side of our darling dryer, sitting vigil, occasionally wiping it off with a fresh Bounce sheet.  I just knew she had some life left in her.
Here’s a picture of our princess.  See how her mouth is still open, as if she’s wanting to accept damp clothes:

Finally, after an arduous night, the decision was made to call in an appliance doctor and we agreed we’d both abide by his suggested course of action.  After a delicate operation, the doctor discovered that her heater was no longer functioning and while there was still power coursing through her, in her current state, she was no longer capable of functioning as a normal dryer.  He then said something very hurtful:  “As it is now, it’s basically just a big metal piece of garbage.  Or art, I suppose.”
I reminded him just how attached we were to the dryer, and that’s when the appliance doctor said he could try and replace the damaged heater for another one (if he even had the proper replacement organ), but couldn’t guarantee how long, if at all, she’d continue to work again.
We were 100% in favour of the operation, and the washer, too, reluctantly agreed that is was worth a shot.  So, after the appliance doctor discovered that he did indeed have a proper replacement heater, he went down to the basement to perform the operation.  After a gruelling, heart-wrenching 30 minutes, I heard the dryer start!  Was it heating?, I wondered.  Every step up the basement steps I heard the appliance doctor come, I knew it brought me one step closer to either wonderful or tragic news.
Finally, he came through the basement door.
“All done,” he said oh-so casually.
“The heater working?” I asked, trying to hide my true, desperate emotions.
“Looks like it.  Hard to say how long it’ll last, though”.
Music To My Ears.  As he began to tell me of another dryer he recently revived, I couldn’t help but think:  Whether it’s only one more day of drying damp clothes, or another 30 years, I’m going to treasure every moment I have with that appliance.
So, there you go.  Praying does work.
And for those of you who thought Terry Shiavo was merely a mindless shell of a human, I offer you this story as proof that one never knows what is going on inside the mind of a machine.  Or a vegetable.  Except, well, you know.  Probably nothing.  Because machines don’t have minds, per se.  And vegetables, whether human or actual vegetables, don’t think.

Season 1 of Ricky Gervais’ newest comedy is over and done and old news, but I just found this video of one of the funnier scenes from the whole series.
Patrick Stewart makes perfect fun of himself.

Technorati Tags: Extras, comedy, British TV, Ricky Gervais, Patrick Stewart