In reference to This: You can open up ports 5353 and 3689 as often as you want, but if you’ve got TWO FIREWALLS running, your Apple TV isn’t going to sync, no matter what.
It’s loading up file 4 of 4,133 right now … fingers crossed, this shit will be working by morning.
Categories: Bitching
Earlier today, a man I don’t know walked up to my cubicle and said, “Meredith, do you support Roger Saulman?” (Roger Saulman [not his real name] sits in the big ol’ fancy office right next to my tiny unfancy corner cubicle.)
The guy meant “support” as in “are you the administrative assistant to” but my synapses misfired, and I said, “No, I’m supporting Hil — Ohhhhh. No, I don’t support Roger. Let me look up who does for you.”
Elections years can be challenging on so many different levels.
Categories: Daily
About three weeks ago, I bought an Apple TV, because I wanted to be able to listen to my music in the living room, and this seemed like the most sensical solution. Last week, I bought a laptop for home music and writing. I spent a day transferring my iTunes library onto new laptop. All songs are presented, accounted for, authorized, and synced to the iPod; this was no small feat.
And then I felt ready to tackle the Apple TV set up. Right now, the things I am considering doing with my Apple TV are as follows:
I have never been more frustrated by a piece of technology in my life. (I’m not a super geek or anything but, you would think I would be able to set up a nice and easy plug-and-play Apple device.) Still, no matter what I do, it registers a port 3689 error. NO MATTER WHAT. I have opened port 3689. I have opened port 5353. I have uninstalled and reinstalled iTunes. I have disconnected the Apple TV from the TV and tried syncing that way. NOTHING WORKS.
The most annoying thing is that I’m not the only person having this issue — it’s not that I’m just dumb (for once) and it’s not that I’m now running the craptacular Vista OS, either — the Apple support forums are filled with people running Leopard who are having THE EXACT SAME PROBLEM.
I wish I hadn’t thrown the box away. I wish I could return this piece of shit. I HATE YOU APPLE TV. Seriously, I want to cry just thinking about all the time I’ve spent trying to set this thing up. I’m going to have to call in the motherfucking Geek Squad soon. THE MOTHERFUCKING GEEK SQUAD.
I feel slightly better now.
Categories: Bitching
1. I was all jazzed up for the return of SNL with Tina Fey as host. I was disappointed. No 30 Rock skit? Why lead with the Bret Michaels skit instead of the There Will Be Blood skit? (Yes, I love any Blood joke.) And that digital short was the biggest flaming pile of poo I’ve ever seen.
2. We watched Michael Clayton and I was very proud at having figured out everything that was going on about an hour in, including the horses. And then that night I had a naughty dream about George Clooney, which was a weird combination of Reservoir Dogs and the standard “I’m running / I’m being chased dream.” Dear Beer, Clooney is fine.
3. I’m watching the Oscars. Really? George Clooney and Jon Stewart getting this much screen time? Is the universe toying with my ovaries? Why doesn’t Matt Damon show up and start playing guitar, too?
Update: When Jon Stewart brought Marketa Irglova back on stage to give her thank you speech, I thought I was going to weep. I feel like I’m going to weep just thinking about it.
Categories: Pop Culture
These songs are in heavy rotation in my ears today, and since I still have writer’s block, this will again have to suffice as content.
Each says something very specific about the kind of week I’ve had, so, I’ll let them speak for themselves. Or not. Beer*, I hate writer’s block.
*I substitute the word “Beer” for the word “God” on a pretty consistent basis. I got it from ‘The Office.’ And I chuckle whenever I think of Jim saying, “Beer give me strength.” That quote might even be on my Facebook profile. I’m just sayin’.
Categories: Daily
Total Vomits: 15-20
Hours Spent in ER: 6 (My second trip in a little more than two months.)
Diagnosis: Viral stomach bug with severe dehydration (I was taking a sip of water and then THROWING UP A SIP OF WATER. And chugging water so I could throw up the chugged water, and feel better for 5 seconds.)
IV Bags Before Rehydration Successful: 2
Large Bottles of Gatorade Consumed: 35
Sore Parts of Body: Neck, throat, back, shoulders, chest, stomach, teeth. The teeth, the teeth … the worst of all.
Movies Watched: 1 (I love Matt Damon.)
Fears About Health Care Bills To Come: Oppressive
Episodes of ‘Cashmere Mafia’ Watched: 2
Times DVR Was Stopped, Switched to ‘Erase,’ Then Turned Back to ‘Cashmere’: 4
Average Hours of Sleep Per Night: 10
Average Length of Standard Nap: 2 hours
Size of Indentation on Couch: HUGE
Times I’ve Illed On Long Weekends: COUNTLESS
This came in the mail today:
Dear Subscriber — We regret to inform you that Blueprint magazine has ceased publication with the January/February 2008 issue. We’re going to have a blog now instead! Aren’t we so Web 2.0?! Oh, and we’re giving you a subscription to Martha Stewart Living, too, because there’s no way you get that already, right? WE KNOW! BLAH BLAH BLAH.
(OK, so I paraphrased that last bit. ["That last bit" meaning "Everything after the first sentence.])
I’m not 100% sure why I find this news so disappointing (and, yes, I know, it’s oldish news), but I do. I have a file in our office where I’ve saved every issue of Blueprint; it quickly usurped Real Simple as my nerdy-homebody magazine of choice. It was useful, it was hip, and, well, I really liked the masthead font.
And speaking of Real Simple, can you guess which soup is their cover photo, and which is my replica of their recipe?
OF COURSE YOU CAN. Mine is the one that was photographed after it had been slightly eaten, and in very poor lighting. However, it was a Big Deal for me to cook that soup, all By Myself, and I had to Use the Blender, and it turned out really well, and Scott liked it, so he took a photo.
(Can you tell how bad the writer’s block is? It is REALLY bad.)
Finally, this is how we’ve come to pass our time in at home since we’ve gotten an L-shaped couch:
We bought the couch so there’d be room for everyone to sprawl out comfortably, but most of the time, there’s room for me, and the cats, and Scott gets a sliver of room on the very, very end. But, hey, the coffee table is at the perfect height to take timer photos! Which we’ve been doing. A lot.
(I’m so sorry. I’m hoping the block passes soon, too.)
Categories: Daily · Pop Culture
Best 8(15) Episodes of ‘Lost’
I like ‘Lost,’ a lot, but this took a crazy amount of time and research to pull together. And even after doing all that research, I’ve got no bloody idea what’s going on.
IFLTS: ‘The General Specific,’ by Band of Horses
I fear Scott is going to throw both iPods and the Apple TV off the balcony if I play this song one more time. I would be sad but unsurprised. I am P-U-S-H-I-N-G it with this one.
Live Blogging: Super Bowl Ads
Clearly, I enjoy live blogging. Doing it for Fan House — where there’s an amazingly active community of commenters talking back to you, real-time, was pretty damn fun.
Other Things There Will Be, In Addition to Blood
This is a gimme.
Also, I bet Scott wishes he had taken this bet. You could’ve been $20 richer, huzzie! (No, I don’t call him ‘huzzie regularly; in fact, I’ve never used that word before, but I might start now.)
Categories: Elsewhere
The current state of our (really, my) DVR kind of says a lot about me; in chronological order:
30 Rock
30 Rock
30 Rock
30 Rock
30 Rock
Psych
In Treatment
In Treatment
Psych
In Treatment
Jon & Kate Plus 8
In Treatment
Jon & Kate Plus 8
Just going by that you might draw the conclusion that I’m a neurotic woman who should consider therapy, and who also might secretly want eight children. Luckily, I can’t watch ‘Jon & Kate’ without a large glass of wine (or two) so at least one of those things isn’t true.
Also, I am fucking Matt Damon.
Categories: Pop Culture
Last night, in the very, very dead center of the night, I woke up to the sound of Scott screaming in his sleep.
This happens frequently; not that he has frequent nightmares, but when he does, he will scream in his sleep. It used to scare the crap out of me, but now, after years of it, I tend to find it amusing.
Last night, he started with a long scream, and then a “Jesus Christ!” — the loud, terrified way you’d say it if the ‘Cloverfield’ monster was staring you down. (No, we haven’t seen that movie.)
Normally, he doesn’t manage full words, just screams, so I woke him up and said, “Pet, you’re having a nightmare. What are you dreaming about?”
And, I’m not lying, he said, in a scared little-boy voice: “Indy … she was running right at me.”
He fell right back to sleep, but I couldn’t, I was giggling so hard the whole bed was shaking. Because, you’ve all met Indy, right?
She’s ferocious.
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