Another Failed Business Venture

I guess that makes two.

When I logged in tonight, I decided it was time to hook up the AdSense advertisements to the old blog. That way, when my one or two (or zero?) readers come visit the page, the content-sensitive advertisements will be displayed, and I'll make so much money that it will make this year's focal raise look paltry in comparison.

So, what happens? "Google's AdSense website is temporarily unavailable. Please try again later."

That's what they get for buying AMD servers.

So, see, now you're reading this but I'm not making money off your reading it. I should be. It's not like I do this for charity.

Yesterday at The Duke, we got free french fries. I'm still not quite sure why. TommyO sat on his ass forever deciding whether he wanted a basket of fries or not (or, more appropriately, a basket of chips as they are referred to by these wacky foreigners), and finally like 10 minutes before the kitchen officially closes, he scurries off inside to find the waitress to see if we can get our requisite basket of fries. We get a damned basket of fries every single week, I'm not sure what kind of decision matrix he had to work through in his mind. I definitely smelled smoke. Might have been one of these, though. But at any rate, with The Duke, you're always taking your chances if you wait past 10:30 to order food. They say the kitchen closes at 11:00, but really they should say the kitchen is closed by 11:00, cuz they start shutting it down a little at a time at 10:30, and on a non-busy night, you are SOL long before 11.

Anyways, the little ham-p-ster makes it around its wheel enough times to somehow jar TommyO into action. No small feat. I think it was really his thirst that stirred him, as he had drained his drink dry, eaten the olives, and licked off the olive skewer by then. And he was starting to eye my T&T. He wanders off and then returns shortly thereafter. Our waitress comes back out in a couple minutes with nice fresh drinks for us. Then she lays down the bad news. Kitchen is closed. No fries.

But who the hell cares at that point, as we've got nice fresh drinks? I think all bad news should be delivered with a drink.

"Here Brian, have a Maker's Mark. By the way, I finally got around to doing the VCCmin calculation, and there really aren't any VIDs you can use that will be low enough to pass oxide stress and also high enough to pass VCCmin margin requirements. Would you like some ice with that?"

True story, by the way, except for the Maker's Mark part. But that'll be the subject of next week's rant.

Well, OK , no fries. Life goes on. Have another cigar instead. Except TommyO doesn't smoke cigars, so he's still bummed about the fries. Right up until the drink touches his face. Then, nobody gives a rat's ass anymore.

About 20 minutes later, the waitress comes out with fries. WTF? She says something about how nice the cook was to make her the fries anyways, and what a great guy he is. There's something going on there, but who am I to pry? I mean, a cook at the end of his shift never does extra work. Am I right?

Yummy fries. Then, like an hour and a half later when we're leaving, she brings the check and says, "I didn't charge you for the fries." Then off she goes with no explanation. So, the cook does the waitress a favor and stays late to make her a basket of fries, then the waitress gives us the fries for free. Now, I'm wondering if by the transitive property, TommyO and I now owe the cook a little something something.

I hope not.