I have a laptop computer that I use at my home office and a computer (regular style) that I use at the office office.  My home office is also my bed.

It is always a huge pain in the ass to transfer files back and forth going back and forth from work — and to get emails all sync’ed up.  I end up deleting or losing important spams.  Can’t someone make computers that work?

Somebody did!

My good friend Dan who runs the finest webhosting on the web showed me THIS SOFTWARE THING!  It’s called Synergy or possibly synergy2, I don’t know because that’s the url — and it lets you connect your computers through the LAN and drag your mouse from one screen to the next, bringing the keyboard along for the ride.

Let me explain it again.

You can take your mouse pointer and drag it right off the screen of your computer and it will magically go onto a completely different computer right next to you and let you do whatever you want over there.  Copy and Paste works too, so that’s pretty sweet.

That means you can just leave all your email and code and sites and shit on your laptop and just hijack your shit whilst at work.  Way to go synergy2 guys!  If only your program configuration page wasn’t completely retarded!

Secret Synergy tips:

Just because you say computer A is to the left of computer B, the program does not know computer B is to the right of computer A.  You have to specify.

Synergy calls a “client” the computer that allows it’s mouse and keyboard to be hijacked.  Little bit oppositey if you ask me.

I had forgotten how awesome I was at video games until this last week when I got a new Mega Man game for the PSP (Mega Man Powered Up).

I was going to Chicago all week for a wedding, and instead of bringing my pink iPod and falling asleep to Wonder Boy by Tenacious D on repeat for five hours — like usual, I decided to try out my PSP. I had loaned my pink iPod, you see, to someone who for all practical intents and puposes stole it.

Here’s my review of the PSP:

My PSP is possibly and probably cursed by the devil. It lasted for like 8 fucking hours from Burbank to Dallas to O’Hare. Don’t bother telling me that you don’t believe me because I don’t fucking believe me and I can probably come up with better reasons than you.

But I saw it.

I didn’t think it was possible to get bored of watching the Family Guy movie on UMD, but after seeing it like seven times (including the commentary) I can say that I was correct and that it is impossible to get bored of it.

Here’s the order to fight the bosses in the Mega Man game:

Cutman
Bombman
Iceman
Fireman
Oilman
Elecman
Timeman
Gutsman

Hay un fiesta en el Casa de Hammer esta Seiso de Mayo! Cerca de tres PM?

Bring cervesa, comida por the mouth, and sus mas grandes pelotas. Hayamos divertidos, musicas, posiblemente un mariachi band (probablamente no), un pinata, y mis amigos gayos.

Llamarme por telephono para instructiones y para eRe eSe Vey Pepe.

Y como nosotros dimos en Mexico: Go fuck yourself, San Diego.

Moustache Log - Day 109

I fear the loss of The Captain at any day — possibly even by the end of the week. Moustache morale is at an all time low and has recently been interfering with sandwich eating. Perhaps this is merely a transitional stage into a sandwich friendly moustache, but as a man who loves his sandwiches, this is an inconsolable sacrifice.

To bolster my resolve I remember the following as spoken to me by a New Yorker so drunk his eyes pointed in opposite directions — perhaps by God’s design.

I know what you’re going through. I know what it takes to grow a moustache like that. I know how people treat you. My girlfriend and all her friends sat at the bar and called me a loser. People threw things at me. Why am I a loser? Because I care? Because I care about growing a moustache for everyone else?

“You looked like a pedophile!” someone said. “And we lived next to an elementary school.”

I did. I did look like a pedophile, but yours is the real deal. That’s a real moustache. I could never grow one like that. I tried, but I couldn’t do it. I just want you to know that.

“In a way,” I said. “This is all of our moustache.”

And by fuck I meant it.

Award for gayest moustache at the Oscars: Heath Ledger

Somebody give that guy his Girl Scout badge in Trying to Grow a Sweet Moustache.

For more information on moustaches and growing them contact The Captain or consult your local Mexican fellow.

Award for the biggest Missed Opportunity to not be a Hollywood Grassfucker is: Phillip Seymour Hoffman or However You Spell That.

A lot of you might not know this, but Philip (pronouce it in a French way because that’s immasculating) Mser. Philleep Seymour Hoffman made a pact — A PACT! — with his college friends, that if any of them won an oscar, they would bark the acceptance speech. Not just bark either, but bark until they were pulled from the stage and I assume thrown in prison because that’s what we do to those kinds of sickos in America. Read more about it here because it sounds like made up shit, but it isn’t.

Guess who didn’t bark his acceptance speech.

I feel like I did the day I found out Santa Claus wasn’t real. I remember it clearly. I was probably 15 or so, and Art, my dad, had to play Santa Claus for our Xmas party because the regular dude had the flu or turned out to be a child molester. I’m not sure. What I do remember clearly is a brown dude with a pretty sweet moustache showing up in a Santa suit and Oakley sunglasses at 9:30.

Awesome.

Also, is Hoffman playing a new villian in Spiderman 3? Yellow Toothman. Seriously, Crest Whitestrips dude. They work.

Award for the most cheeses crammed in a spaghetti?

Oh that’s this spaghetti right here with 6. It doesn’t look good, but it was.

Here are my measurements in case anyone wants to know.

Coat: 42R
Waist: 34
Neck: 16 1/2
Chest: 41
Height: 6′
Sleeve Inseam: 16
Outseam: 43
Sleeve: 35
Over arm: 50
Weight: 175

Email me for the rest.  I think you know what I’m talking about.

UPDATE:

Do not email me if you’re a dude.