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Dammit! FYF means 'Fuck You Factor'. Somebody asked what it meant (he saw it in Sport Rider magazine in an article) on the Esportbike forums. I answered, circumventing the censorbot easily with Fu[i][/i]ck.

I wasn't trying to be cute or make a joke, that's really what it means. Well, my username AND my IP were banned. For one word! Man I'm pissed off!


Sometimes I have to fill in as a porter at work. I enjoy it. I drive cars to and from the parking spaces. Today I had to drive this stick shift (being the only person in the office at the time who drives stick) truck, a diesel. And not a sophisticated Volkswagen direct-injection turbo-diesel, this was a 70s Chevy lugger.

You have to wait for the "glow plugs" light to go out before you can start the engine. Even then it took me FIFTEEN seconds to get the thing started! Once it started I thought something was really wrong as it was shaking like a washing machine. I got it moving but was shocked to see it could only rev to about 2500 RPMs! Geez, how can ANYone prefer that piece of garbage? The shifter had a throw of about a foot and a half between first and second.

Star Trek tonight is a good one. The Doctor, Harry, and Seven are trapped as prisoners on a ship. The Doctor is using Seven's body. He's had his first massage, first kiss, first cheesecake, first synthehol, first sexual arousal. Seven is angry, but she has to keep letting the Doctor possess her body if they are to escape. "You became sexually aroused in MY BODY!". It's just amazing how well Jeri Ryan does the Doctor's idiosyncratic manners.

Hey, they may have found an actual cure for cancer. Heard about it on the news tonight. It's big.

And the China standoff continues.

I like my DSL. It's been better lately. It's so great being 15 times faster than a modem, being able to use the phone, not having to connect, getting pings under 100, not having to worry about usage time... what a gift.

I was going down the highway today, flogging the van (yes, you can flog a minivan, keep it in '2' and plant the pedal to the floor, use the brakes like you're kicking a soccerball, dare the mofo to tip over on turns and curves...), windows open for the wind and sun, listening to Son Volt's "Windfall" ("Both feet on the floor, two hands on the wheel, may the wind take your troubles away"), passing this larger van, looking back and being surprised how much distance I had already put on him (like a quarter mile already!), and thinking... "yah".

It was more of a feeling than a thought, though, and those are always a bit more elusive. It's hard to write a feeling down, or even remember it later. It's hard to describe it.