Lé Big Mac

After about 5 years, an internal hard drive replacement, a near external hard drive failure, and gigabytes upon gigabytes of porn, my mother saw it fit to gift me with a brand new computer. After much deliberation, mainly between a 13" Macbook Pro and a 24" iMac, I finally got my sexy new beast, to whom, yes whom, I refer to as Lé Big Mac.

I chose the second to the highest 24" model, mainly because I couldn't afford the difference on the top of the line one. But after dealing with a paltry 64mb video card and a G4 processor for the past 5 years, this new iMac feels like a fucking shot of steroids right to the nut sack. I must say that the ladies were right in this case. Bigger is definitely better (although I still prefer smaller boobs...?). I opted for the wireless keyboard and mouse package, for $50. Unfortunately, the stores do not carry the iMacs with the wireless keyboard equipped with a separate numeric keypad...but on the flip-side, I was so used to using my laptop all these years, that I'm actually pretty fast using the numbers at the top of the letters. Although not nearly as fast as I am on a dedicated numeric keypad, but I can deal with it for the time being. I think I will eventually purchase a wireless keyboard with a dedicated keypad, not only for Excel (ugh Excel) but I found these awesome skins you can lay over the full-size keyboard and they have all the shortcuts labeled for apps like Photoshop, Aperture, Final Cut Pro, and even the MS Office Suite (bleck).

The aptly named "Mighty Mouse" caused me a little confusion in the beginning. After years of using a trackpad, I had grown quite proficient with my forefingers and the applicable shortcuts that I used day to day. In fact, I would bet that I could navigate my old laptop faster than most people with a mouse. And the multi-touch trackpad on the newer Macbook Pros were even better. I was thoroughly impressed with how quickly I was able to navigate through the OS, web pages and other such computing shenanigans.

But in a few days or so, I grew to love the mighty mouse. I just had to increase the sensitivity a bit and customize a couple of the functions - good to go. Except one thing...I couldn't consistently right click with the damned thing. In fact, I was reverting back to the CTRL + click technique I used on my old Powerbook (two finger click for the new Macbook Pros). Then I realized I had to lift my forefinger from the left side when I right clicked - it doesn't sound like a big deal, but it's a bit awkward at first if you're used to non-Mighty Mouses. But once I figured that little bit of information, I grew to love it and all it's might.

Anyways here's a quick rundown of what I think...

Pros:

• Beautiful 24" display, built-in speakers are perfectly acceptable for casual applications and movie watching. I can actually make useful comparisons between different versions of the images, I can have multiple browsers up, or a website and a text document or PDF, or heaven forbid, a large Excel Worksheet...I can basically get everything done faster, easier, and in a much sexier manner.
• The wireless keyboard and mouse are very responsive, and have yet to stumble across any connectivity issues. They're also very comfortable and I can type much faster with the flat/thin keyboard that comes standard with Macs, than I could with a traditional desktop keyboard.
• The dedicated 256mb NVIDIA graphics card seems more than adequate for photo-centric applications, and basically strolls through edits like a beast. I can't even imagine how much faster the high end one is like. I also can't wait for Snow Leopard.
• Handles multimedia playback/viewing flawlessly.
• I finally see the web the way it was meant to be seen. I always blamed the internet connection, but I now realize it was my laptop's aging innards responsible for the painful browsing of animation laden websites.
• There's a certain...I don't know what, but it's an absolute pleasure to use this thing.

Cons:

• The screen is too bright even at it's dimmest setting. I'm a bit of a night owl, and get most of my work done at night. At the lowest setting my eyes are still straining, I've heard of this app Shades which allows you to dim the screen even more. I'm thinking of trying it out, but I've also read up on a curious unevenness with the backlighting of the iMac's screen - and could possibly explain the ridiculously bright light levels Apple chose to default the screen to.
• Hard Drive and Video Card are not designed to be user replaceable...I knew this going in, and I'm hoping that the desktop hard drive is far less prone to failure than their laptop counterparts since they aren't exactly being moved around all that often. But if any of you ever had a hard drive die, you'd know how fucking painful it is - the thought of having to go through this doesn't exactly make me feel good. (The link shows an older spec'd iMac, but the body design is roughly the same I believe.) I had to do it on my 12" Powerbook and it was tough but manageable. The instructions/photos of the iMac disassembly on the other hand are just downright frightening.
• The placement of the sole Firewire port (just one...c'mon, really Apple?), USB ports, mic, and headphone jack are a bit inconvenient. One or two USB ports on the side of the machine would be nice for those quick transfers with a flash drive, and I guess they had people using big desktop speaker systems with the iMac in mind when they put the stereo port in the back, but I'd think headphones would be more likely due to the iMac's reasonable sounding built-in speakers. This might be my night owl bias though.
• No CompactFlash and SD card slots...not really a big deal, but it would've been nice, even if you don't use them much, having a bootable Mac OS X volume on there would be awesome in the event your rather difficult to replace hard drive took a shit.

Conclusion:

I know it sounds like I'm being a bit harsh in the "Cons" section, but all in all I rather enjoy using my new iMac. A lot of my complaints could easily be said about most other all-in-one designs. And remember, just because you love something (Apple in this case, and more specifically my iMac), doesn't mean you can't have objective criticisms and/or ideas that could make future versions even better. Plus, my love for Apple goes beyond mere aesthetics, their designs - unlike styles - are the culmination of usability and visual appeal. Just look at their iPhone. Almost every single feature of the iPhone has been done on a mobile phone before, but none of them were able to draw such mass appeal. Why? Because they were a pain in the ass to use and setup! I'm pretty geeky, I've worked with all sorts of cell phones and mobile platforms, and I can say with a fair amount of experience that the iPhone's interface is (minor quibbles aside) by far the most user friendly I've seen. So I kind of expect the same amazing design put into their other products - which for the most part is there. I think their Macbook Pro line is arguably the best laptop you will ever (or never) use. But the iMac's lack of convenient access to even one USB port is just plain frustrating.

Of course my need for easier access to ports might be due to the fact that I've been accustomed to using a laptop for the past 5 years. On a side note, I think my powerbook might need another hard drive soon, but I think it'll still be good for quite some time for the general web/music/text bullshit I'll be needing on campus.

Anyways, back to the iMac, or Lé Big Mac I should say. I love it. If you're in the market for a new desktop, check one out. If you don't like the Mac OS, or actually believe what those Microsoft ads say...you should stick with Windows - because it is cheaper, like Manager's Specials on meats, fish, and produce. Also because you don't deserve to enjoy the happiness that is owning a Mac...in fact I'd prefer you stick with Windows all together because I hate you, and I think you're stupid.

=)

Girl

So there's this girl...and I kissed her. The End.

Sobering Sundays: Touched by Awesomeness

I haven't woken up feeling like this in quite some time. You know, when it feels like you were blocking punches with your face, balls, and colon the night before. My room smelled like an overflowing porta-john. Actually, I'm willing to bet that a porta-john would be insulted if it smelled my room - given that it had a nose and was capable of feeling human emotions. The air was thick and lingered with a stagnant resolve at the edge of my nostrils. It was filled with a rather distinct aroma comprised of a beer fart base, with layers of partially digested meats, cheese, and topped off with hints of a rather sulfur-ious egg salad. And yes, I was naked. My vision, or the lack thereof, was nefariously blurry. And just to be perfectly clear (get it hehe), I couldn't see shit. I, with a herculean effort, willed my way to the bathroom. Something was dying to get out, and who was I to deny it? This wretched rot was clawing through my entrails, my bowels were reminding me of this awful reality some may call sobriety. The pain was evil incarnate itself. A conglomeration of malodorous scents and a paste like substance that was neither liquid, nor solid. And it all burned. The orifices of my nether regions were angrily purging me of whatever debauchery I was a part of the night before. I would have screamed if the fecal exorcism didn't have me gasping for air to prevent from blacking out. Such brutal physicality should be illegal. If enlightenment was reached through pain, I'd be infinitely closer to god.

What little hydration I had left was slowly collecting in my eyes. I was the new face and body for Hurt Clothing, and I was covered in it - head to toe. Beneath the ringing in my head, from the dryness of my lips, I mouthed a faintly audible whisper - "what happened?" My vision was slowly clearing. And there I was, faced with one hot mess of a reflection and a partially activated gag reflex from what was quickly becoming a toxic environment. I was hurting everywhere. Even my eyebrows fucking hurt. Dehydration had made me ripped beyond belief - I would have looked great if it weren't for my apparent inability to mask the look of pain on my face. It also became evident that there were several oddly placed bruises, what looks like hickies on my right bicep, and some rather curious bite marks on my left butt cheek.

Now it may sound like I'm complaining, but I rather love to play my little game of hangover Clue. Way better than that Sudoku shit, and not nearly as pompous as crossword puzzles. But probably only slightly better than a naughty word find. Say what you will, but searching for words like "anus" and "blumpkin" will always make me giggle.

While it is arguably more efficient to start at the last known memory, I prefer to start at the earliest one. I find that the process is almost as fun as the answer...like an orgasm. Unless you're a female, starting with the orgasm and then doing all the necessary work would just be painful and lead to soreness and unwanted swelling. I mean, I would, and I have done it, but only out of sheer pride and embarrassment. It was just sheer anger that kept me hard. I call it my anger-wood. But I digress.

The 8th Street one day fair is undoubtedly the best time you can have in the Lehigh Valley on that one day. No lie. What looks like your average house party is actually a carnival of awesome goodness. There's a dunk tank, a cotton candy machine, amazing food, live music, a 50/50 raffle, and a shit ton of alcohol - all FREE thanks to the generosity of the house owners Billy Sommers, Ben Steager, and Jim Michel. It is a million times better than Musikfest, or what I now refer to as Jail Bait Fest. It also helps that everyone there is generally a good time to begin with. I love catching up with old friends, and obviously meeting new ones. And seriously, the production value as far as house parties go is amazing.

I started off nice and easy, saying hi to familiar faces, drinking some good ol' American pilsners and lagers and chowing down on a few side dishes. I was looking forward to seeing Graham. Yes, that's him. And yes, he's that awesome. He has this amazing talent of saying hello while simultaneously reminding me I'm asian.

Graham: "Whattup Nintendo?"
Me: "Ya know, just keepin' it slanted."

I also met his new girlfriend, who interestingly enough met him because of the pictures I took. Yes, those pictures. And she's kinda hot. She's 24 but looks like she's 16. I know, I gave him a high five. Now the story of how they "found" each other was a little mind baffling at first. Apparently the girl was searching for a friend of hers on Myspace...and Graham's picture came up which led her to view his other photos...which led her to the ones I took of him. So what does she do? She messages him to hang out - and now they are most likely mashing their private parts together this very moment. How do I know this, because that's what I'd be doing. I'm happy for my friend Graham. I'm never one to hate on a friend enjoying some trim...especially trim that's legal but looks like it isn't. But what the flying fuck am I doing wrong? Where is my 20 something year old play thing that looks like she's 16? I'd like to think I have a modicum of talents, I'm pretty funny, I'm intelligent when I want to be, and I look awesome naked. Fuck it. I'm eating another cookie.

But in all seriousness I had a blast. And I need to thank everyone who was responsible for that party. And Jackie was even nice enough to sew a hole in my pants while I waited in the other room in my socks and underwear. I mean really, how many of you can say you had that kind of service at a party? It was all good, I was drinking, I was eating, I was laughing, I was being a mature young adult. And then I was touched by awesomeness.

What is awesomeness? Awesomeness is a clear liquid, also known as grain alcohol...straight up blithering drunk in a bottle. The kind of alcohol that causes blindness, and at the very least blackouts. I've learned to stay away from jello shots...because we all know how I get when I start taking jello shots. Clothes get removed, girls get touched, songs get sung - on second thought I should start taking jello shots again. Anyways, last night I failed to realize that the shots they were passing around was just the pure paint ripping, esophagus burning, eye watering, ball hair growing, grain alcohol that was normally used in the jello shots of lore.

Clearly, "awesomeness" is not for everyone. At least not in large quantities, especially not taken in rapid succession. Being touched by awesomeness renders one helpless against making a complete fool of oneself while talking about perfectly aged trim, loving on a friend's divorced mother, and waking up with strange bruises, bites, and facial swelling.

But that's what the 8th Street Fair is all about - awesomeness.