Same here, but people don't believe me when I tell them I've got all the symptoms. Okay, the doctor did giggle but then asked why I really came in for the visit...
Post a Random Fact About Yourself
- Thread starter Sibyl
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Same here, but people don't believe me when I tell them I've got all the symptoms. Okay, the doctor did giggle but then asked why I really came in for the visit...
I get that way with classical music and quotes. When I am familiar with either, I just hate it when I can't tell precisely where it's from. Fortunately, I can always count on the Internet for the quotes, not so much with the music though. It would be nice to have a search for music based on one whistling the tune. How long will we have to wait to get that feature?
That'd be challenging. There's too much ambiguity especially taken into account small inaccuracies of the whistler. You'd get a thousand hits for anything you whistled.
I wouldn't be too sure of that. There are already programs that can correct your singing and make you sing the exact notes. So I don't think small inaccuracies would be much more challenging than spelling mistakes. So I think it's more of a question of demand. Maybe it's not much requested by Google users. How many people have a tune in their head that they wish to identify?
Presumably people who wanted to identify music would use Shazam, or other similar apps. Of course, that works by sampling the song itself, rather than someone whistling it.
I have no idea whether classical music would be in its database or not, so not sure if it would work with that genre.
I know something like this used to exist because one of my elementary school teachers brought it in one day and had us throw out music to check, but there was a book that no one I know believes me about that you can give it like the fist 6-8 note changes, not the notes, themselves, but "o--_-__--" type of thing where the "o" is the root note and the "-" and "_" signify rises or drops in pitch respectively for the notes after the root. The friggin thing worked, too! Of course, there was a whole lot less commercial music back then but I'd love to know if something like it exists online.
I hate mondays. Weekends nowadays are over in a hurry and mondays always streeeeeeeeetch like old chewing gum on a shoe sole. It's utterly frustrating.
More positive fact about myself: my mom decided that at 80 she's due for "cookie-retirement" so I'll have to do all the baking this year (btw, if you happen to have any low-calory cookie recipes to share, I'd be grateful! We are 3 diabetics in the family, one of us enormousely obese)
More positive fact about myself: my mom decided that at 80 she's due for "cookie-retirement" so I'll have to do all the baking this year (btw, if you happen to have any low-calory cookie recipes to share, I'd be grateful! We are 3 diabetics in the family, one of us enormousely obese)
I don't actually have any low calorie cookie recipes but that reminded me of something. My sister used to help my grandmother bake cookies around Christmas time. Grandma was really fond of peanut butter cookies (me, not so much). When my sister first started worrying about things like calories, Grandma would tell her that making the fork mark on the peanut butter cookies removed all the calories.
Grandma was just a little kooky.
I always feel behind for the holidays. Just don't get the house decorated or gifts done or the tree up as soon as everyone else so it makes me feel like I am too slow or something? Anyone else feel that way?
When my sister first started worrying about things like calories, Grandma would tell her that making the fork mark on the peanut butter cookies removed all the calories.
Rando: Say, why are there fork marks in your chocolate ice cream?
Me: No reason...
Kind of like how beer commercials advertise low carbs.
Well yeah, cause all the carbs got changed into alcohol, because that's what fermentation is.
Well yeah, cause all the carbs got changed into alcohol, because that's what fermentation is.
ouch! I hope it'll heal really soon.
This year I've decided to boycott the stress and go my own speed. And if my advent calendar still isn't up on Dec 3rd, so what? Tonight I'll store away my autumn clothing and make up my mind what cookies to bake (peanut butter kisses are not popular with my family but I might make a sheet or two for mysef
). The decorations can wait till the weekend. Maybe I'll hang up a few of the stars I folded last year from coloured tracing paper (they look very pretty stuck to the windows, with the light shining through them*).
In my experience, time is something you have to take since nobody will give it to you.
* this website is in German but has self-explanatory pics showing how to make a star from tracing paper. In the list to the left of the site there are the manuals for 15 other stars from the same material
Naah you're not too slow, the times are too hectic. When I was a kid, Advent (the 4 weeks before Christmas) used to be called "the quiet time". It was very peaceful, slow, relaxed and romantic. Nowadays Advent is loud, hectic and stressful.
This year I've decided to boycott the stress and go my own speed. And if my advent calendar still isn't up on Dec 3rd, so what? Tonight I'll store away my autumn clothing and make up my mind what cookies to bake (peanut butter kisses are not popular with my family but I might make a sheet or two for mysef
). The decorations can wait till the weekend. Maybe I'll hang up a few of the stars I folded last year from coloured tracing paper (they look very pretty stuck to the windows, with the light shining through them*).In my experience, time is something you have to take since nobody will give it to you.
* this website is in German but has self-explanatory pics showing how to make a star from tracing paper. In the list to the left of the site there are the manuals for 15 other stars from the same material
My mother is 92 and she's still valid, as much as can be expected from a 92-year-old. If left to her own devices she would kill herself working so I hired a gardener and a maid to do all the heavy lifting (she lives a long distance from me, so I can't be there as often as I'd like (if I want to have a life, if you see what I mean)). My mother still does some work around her house as total inaction would likely kill her even faster than a strenuous activity but I made it clear to both the gardener and the maid that my mother should never get her hands on the heavy equipment, if it happened not only would they be fired but I would sue them for breach of contract. I have a friend who lives closeby who checks regularly if it is the case (he goes there discreetly at irregular times). My mother has been poor for a long time and she just can't stand sitting in front of the tv, doing nothing, even at 92!!! I hope she'll live to be a hundred!!!
^that sounds a lot like my mom She's busy almost 24/7 and even while watching TV she knits. IMHO mothers are a force of nature, like tornados or floods.
She's busy almost 24/7 and even while watching TV she knits. IMHO mothers are a force of nature, like tornados or floods. 
When I was a youngster, I was always a little creeped out by the fact that whenever I'd close my eyes, while something bright was shining at me ( a light, the sun etc...) I could swear I saw little floating wormy or spidery shapes , which made me think I had particles in my eyes or something .
When I got older, & learned a bit about anatomy, I figured out I was probably just seeing the veins & capillaries in my eyelids. Still fascinates me though.
When I got older, & learned a bit about anatomy, I figured out I was probably just seeing the veins & capillaries in my eyelids. Still fascinates me though.
I was staying at very woodsy Fort Belvoir many many years ago and came back to my apartment building one evening around Halloween. I stepped out of my car and saw a fluffy cat's tail disappearing under the next car. Being a cat lover, I called to it and tried to find it because I'm very fond of black and white cats. I couldn't find it right away although I could hear it snuffling through the dead leaves at the curb. "Here kittty, kitty!" and then the skunk strolled out in front of me. It paid no attention to me (in my idiocy) at all, luckily, and I decided quickly to head inside to study.
You know how some people are afraid of flying....I am the exact opposite.
I'm afraid of NOT flying.
If I'm on the plane, it's in the air, and the flight is on time, I'm a happy guy. But delays, cancellations, that kind of thing...THAT is what I'm afraid of.
For example: A few months ago, I spent a week in San Francisco (one of my favorite cities). When the time came to fly home, my flight was due to leave SFO at about 6:30 in the evening. I had been previously warned about the possibility of delay or cancellation, because SFO had to shut down one of its runways for maintenance.
You know when I actually showed up at the airport? About 9 in the morning. Yeah, you read that right.
I was so afraid that my flight home would be cancelled (it wasn't, although it ended up being delayed by about an hour and a half) that I figured the airport would be the best place to be in that event. That way, I could just go to a customer service desk, and I wouldn't have to talk to anyone on the phone.
So I ended up spending like 11 hours at the airport. I think I went to all the United Clubs that SFO had! I lost count of all the gin and tonics I consumed.
The moral of the story is that I am almost ridiculously paranoid about what might happen to my flights. For any reservations that I happen to have (right now I only have one, for my trip to Montréal next March) I check them every single day to see if the airline has messed with my schedule in any way. Unfortunately, airlines love to pull that crap, so I have to stay on top of it!
I'm afraid of NOT flying.
If I'm on the plane, it's in the air, and the flight is on time, I'm a happy guy. But delays, cancellations, that kind of thing...THAT is what I'm afraid of.
For example: A few months ago, I spent a week in San Francisco (one of my favorite cities). When the time came to fly home, my flight was due to leave SFO at about 6:30 in the evening. I had been previously warned about the possibility of delay or cancellation, because SFO had to shut down one of its runways for maintenance.
You know when I actually showed up at the airport? About 9 in the morning. Yeah, you read that right.
I was so afraid that my flight home would be cancelled (it wasn't, although it ended up being delayed by about an hour and a half) that I figured the airport would be the best place to be in that event. That way, I could just go to a customer service desk, and I wouldn't have to talk to anyone on the phone.
So I ended up spending like 11 hours at the airport. I think I went to all the United Clubs that SFO had! I lost count of all the gin and tonics I consumed.
The moral of the story is that I am almost ridiculously paranoid about what might happen to my flights. For any reservations that I happen to have (right now I only have one, for my trip to Montréal next March) I check them every single day to see if the airline has messed with my schedule in any way. Unfortunately, airlines love to pull that crap, so I have to stay on top of it!
As I have said before life was a great deal rougher in the French countryside when you were poor in the sixties than some people may imagine. We didn't have in-house toilets, the bathtub was a wooden container that we moved in the middle of the kitchen (the best-heated room in the house), no central heating, taps only delivered cold water (very cold in winter!!). If you wanted hot water you had to heat it on the big stove in the kitchen (all of this was dangerous as hell) ( I scalded my elbow once, fortunately, it wasn't that bad, still it took a couple of months to heal!!). It wasn't easy when you needed to do the big number in the middle of winter to go through the garden toward the badly lit outhouse, a plank with a hole in it and below was a big hole filled with you know what...Old cut newspapers in lieu of toilet paper (the ink rubbed off on our skin!!!)
Anyway, we were tough not because of "machoism" or whatever but because life demanded it. In that context, kids were tough too. Boys and girls went to different schools, but that doesn't mean that we (the boys) didn't think of the girls (bien au contraire!!!) we talked about them all the time and we used every occasion to meet them.
We were also tough with each other. One of my best friends of all times introduced himself to me in the most singular fashion. He threw a stick at me, spearlike. The stick hit me above the right eye, in the eyebrow. Fortunately, the stick wasn't too sharp though. Blood started running over my face (you know head wounds!). Anyway, what followed is a little fuzzy in my memory so I am mostly reporting what my friend saw and told me about later. I was sort of staggering back an forth and my friend wondered (with horror) if I wasn't about to die. At that point, I started yelling and jumped on him and hit him with everything I had (fists, elbows, knees) with uncontrolled rage (probably an adrenaline rush), all the while my blood was dripping over him. My friend thought I was like a headless chicken and didn't defend himself as well as he could have (we were pretty much of equal strength). He thought I was dying. Anyway, we managed somehow to go back to our houses. And we both abided by the unwritten rule, that you don't tell the grown-ups about the things that happen between kids. So I told my parents that I ran, fell and hit my head against a stump. And he told his parents that he was climbing a tall tree when he was attacked by a big black bird (probably defending its nest), he took his pocket knife and stabbed at the bird, managing to wound t in the process (hence the blood on his clothes), in so doing he lost his balance and fell, being repeatedly hit by branches on his way down (hence the multiple bruises all over his body).
That was rather smart for a kid of nine or ten years! That explains (partly) why he became a lawyer and a darn good one at that!!!
I don't know if his parents believed him but since he insisted and wouldn't change his story they had no choice but to "believe him".
He's now one of my most reliable friends.
Anyway, we were tough not because of "machoism" or whatever but because life demanded it. In that context, kids were tough too. Boys and girls went to different schools, but that doesn't mean that we (the boys) didn't think of the girls (bien au contraire!!!) we talked about them all the time and we used every occasion to meet them.
We were also tough with each other. One of my best friends of all times introduced himself to me in the most singular fashion. He threw a stick at me, spearlike. The stick hit me above the right eye, in the eyebrow. Fortunately, the stick wasn't too sharp though. Blood started running over my face (you know head wounds!). Anyway, what followed is a little fuzzy in my memory so I am mostly reporting what my friend saw and told me about later. I was sort of staggering back an forth and my friend wondered (with horror) if I wasn't about to die. At that point, I started yelling and jumped on him and hit him with everything I had (fists, elbows, knees) with uncontrolled rage (probably an adrenaline rush), all the while my blood was dripping over him. My friend thought I was like a headless chicken and didn't defend himself as well as he could have (we were pretty much of equal strength). He thought I was dying. Anyway, we managed somehow to go back to our houses. And we both abided by the unwritten rule, that you don't tell the grown-ups about the things that happen between kids. So I told my parents that I ran, fell and hit my head against a stump. And he told his parents that he was climbing a tall tree when he was attacked by a big black bird (probably defending its nest), he took his pocket knife and stabbed at the bird, managing to wound t in the process (hence the blood on his clothes), in so doing he lost his balance and fell, being repeatedly hit by branches on his way down (hence the multiple bruises all over his body).
That was rather smart for a kid of nine or ten years! That explains (partly) why he became a lawyer and a darn good one at that!!!
I don't know if his parents believed him but since he insisted and wouldn't change his story they had no choice but to "believe him".
He's now one of my most reliable friends.
^LOL that sort of training explains a lot about lawyers
