1. Ceannaigh brocailí nuair a fhios agat go bhfuil cheana féin níos mó ná go leor sa chuisneoir.
2. Go for a run. Cool off. Take off clean pillow case and replace with T-shirt. Cover with clean pillow case.
3. Agus iad ag tiomáint, a iarraidh má ba chóir dúinn dul an bealach mícheart síos sráid aontreo.
4. Chun 15 bliana, gach Domhnach a thugann le fios duit bhean ag dul le músaem, iontas in iúl go bhfuil músaeim oscailte ar an Domhnach ar.
5. Chun 15 bliana, occasionally suggest going to the local book store on Sunday. Express surprise that they are not open on Sunday’s (buíochas a lán Dlíthe Blue!).
6. Úsáid 20 pointí a dhéanamh 3 point turn.
7. Ar tráthnóna Fall fionnuar luath, walk into the room and turn on the A/C. Complain that it’s cold. When wife says, "then why did you turn that on, amaideach" agus faigheann suas chun dul sé amach, grab the warm spot she had on the couch. Bonus points if she does not realize you did it until much later.
8. Oscail suas CAN de delicious bán tuinnín colgach agus é a ithe go díreach ó féidir leis an, i leaba, ar an oíche.
9. Téigh isteach sa chistin cé go bhfuil bean ag ithe dinnéar, oscailt suas ar an tarraiceán sceanra agus gréithe bhrú timpeall go dtí go screams bhean chéile, "what are you looking for!"
10. Ar fháil cártaí gnó nua, rúnda ar siúl iad go léir ar fud an tí: Faoin leaba, i gcásanna pillow, taobh istigh cupáin caife, ina sparán, i pócaí cóta, urranna glove carr, an pantry — anywhere you can think of.
11. Scríobh iontrálacha blag faoi do bhean chéile.
12. Wake suas.
13. Nuair ag siúl na sráideanna na Nua-Eabhrac, be on the alert for "crusty" objects on the ground. Coimeád i gcuimhne do bhean chéile ar eagla speisialta, bhaint amach síos amhail is dá mba chun pioc ceann suas suas agus a iarraidh, "hmm, N'fheadar cad é go?" (Be prepared for wife to body slam you as if she’s a secret service agent protecting the President from a sniper or you’ll find yourself laying on your back on the sidewalk).
14. Drive twice around a parking lot looking for space. You know you’ve really hit pay dirt when your son in the back seat yells, "Oh no! Tá sé ag déanamh air arís!"
15. Write "top 10" liostaí nach bhfuil 10 míreanna.

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Bhean chéile joke Bónas:

Two male co-workers go out to lunch. One of them tells the other, "I let loose an embarrassing Freudian slip the other night."

"A Freudian slip? What’s that?"

"Well, nuair a chríochnaigh muid ag ithe, an fhreastalaí a tháinig ag agus d'iarr conas a thaitin againn ár béilí. I gceist agam a rá, ‘I loved the chicken breast’ but instead I said ‘I loved your breasts’. I was so embarrassed."

"Ah," his co-worker replied. "I had the same thing happen to me this weekend with my wife. We were eating breakfast I meant to ask her to pass the butter, ach ina ionad sin Screamed mé ar a, ‘You ruined my life!'"

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Thart ar shé bliana ó shin, mo mhac ceithre bliana d'aois agus bhí mé ag breathnú suas an staighre ar Discovery cainéal "shark attacks" speisialta (b'fhéidir an ceann seo). He was very young at the point and I was always worried what he might see on a show like this and how he might take it. I didn’t want him to develop, mar shampla, aon eagla speisialta an uisce nó blab rud éigin mí-oiriúnach to his friends and possibly cause his baby friend network to come crashing down.

Discovery handles these kinds of subjects very well. It’s not about creating a fear of something, but rather to show how unusual it is for sharks to attack humans.

Mar sin,, we’re watching it and there is this one particularly scary attack involving a small girl. As Discovery is building the drama of the attack, my son (who has always been extremely jumpy anyway), is getting very excited. I make some noises about how unusual it is for sharks to attack people, and how bad the poor girl must feel. I’m trying to explain that people recover from these events and become stronger for it. Mar sin féin, I had misinterpreted his excitement. He was not worried about the girl at all. Ina áit sin, while clapping his hands, he tells me, "The sharks love it! It’s terrific. It’s wonderful. Its a DREAM COME TRUE!"

I thought this was hilarious, but also very disturbing. Ar thaobh amháin, I was glad — even a little proud — that he could have strong empathic feelings, cross-species though they may be. As humans, we need to develop our "empathic muscles" so speak or you’ll end up like this guy 🙂 On the other hand, he was feeling cross-species empathy toward a species who was exhibiting behavior inimical to his own. I was really struggling with this when the narrator used the word "paradigm". My son picked up on that and asked me what that meant.

That’s not such an easy word to describe to a four year old, but I gave it a try. When I think of the word "paradigm", Thomas Kuhn is never far from my thoughts. Léigh mé The Structure of Scientific Revolutions back at Lafayette and for better or for worse, the word "paradigm" is pregnant with extra meaning for me. (Sort of like the word "contact" after hearing a Movie Phone voice tell me where I could see that movie [I thought the book was better]; I always say to myself, "CONTACT!" whenever I see or hear someone say "contact").

Ar aon nós, I’m trying to explain to him a Kuhnian definition, that it’s "a historical movement of thought" and that it’s a "way of thinking with a number of built-in assumptions that are hard to escape for people living at that time." Ar ndóigh,, you can’t talk like to a four-year old, so I’m trying to successively define it to smaller pieces and feeling rather proud of myself as I do so. (I just knew that someone outside of college would care that I had read Kuhn!).

I’m just warming to the task when he interrupts me. Waving his hand in my general direction and never taking his eyes off another brutal shark attack, he just says, "Yeah, yera yeah, yera yeah. Blah, blah, blah.".

So much for that 🙂

At that point, I decided to run away, rhetorically speaking, sit back, and enjoy watching sharks attack humans with my son.

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Ar ais in aice le 1999, Bhí mé ag caitheamh a lán de na seachtainí amach i Santa Barbara, CA, ag obair do chliant, leaving my poor wife back here in New Jersey alone. I dearly love my wife. I love her just as much today as I did when she foolishly married me 1,000 years or so ago. Áit éigin feadh na líne, I coined a phrase, "special fear", as in "Samantha has special fears." She as a special fear of "bugs", which to her are not flies or ladybugs, but rather microbes. She’s afraid of this or that virus or unusual bacteria afflicting our son, or me, but never really herself. (She is also specially afraid of vampires, miniature evil dolls (especially clowns) and submarine accidents; sí amach-fhás a eagla speisialta daoine gléasta i Santa Claus outfits).

Lá amháin, my co-worker and I decided to drive up into the nearby mountains near Ohai. At one point, we got out of the car to take in the scene. When we got back into the car, I noticed that a tick was on my shoulder. I flicked out the window and that was it.

An oíche sin, I told her about our drive and mentioned the tick. The conversation went something like this:

S: "Oooo! Those are bad. They carry diseases."

P: "Well, Dh'eitil mé é amach an fhuinneog."

S: "They are really bad though. They can get under your skin and suck blood and transfer bugs. You better check your hair and make sure there aren’t any in your head!"

P: I nguth ard: "My God! CAN THEY TAKE OVER YOUR MIND???"

S: Literally shuaimhneas mé: "No, ní bhíonn siad GO dona."

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Cheannaigh muid ár gcéad (agus gan ach) "luxury" car back when hurricane Floyd nailed the east coast of the U.S. We got a LOT of rain here in New Jersey and roinnt laethanta a rith before life returned to normal. Just before Floyd struck, rinne muid tairiscint le haghaidh Volvo úsáid 850 GL agus tar éis Floyd bhuail, thiomáin sé abhaile.

It was our first car with a CD player. Like most new car owners, chuaigh muid ar CD dÚsachtach beag, revived our dormant CD collection and went on long drives just to listen to CD’s in the car. Like all fads, this passed for us and we ended listening to the same CD over and over again. I ár gcás, go raibh sé Íosa Críost Superstar.

Ceann de na (go leor) píosaí iontach sa mhéid is go ceoldráma carraig á chanadh ag na cineálacha foras crábhaidh, faoi ​​stiúir Caiaphas, the "High Priest". They sing their way into deciding how to handle the "Jesus problem" and Caiaphas directs them to the conclusion that "Jesus must die". The refrain on the song is "Just must die, Ní mór bás, Ní mór bás, this Jesus must die". You hear that refrain a lot in that piece.

Ag an am, my son was about three years old. You can probably see where this is going.

I came home from work one day and my son is in the living room playing with toys and humming to himself. I’m taking off my jacket, breathnú tríd an ríomhphost agus go léir mo siúlóid-an doras-i-is gnách stuif agus realize mé go tobann go bhfuil sé ag rá go díreach, Ní canadh i ndáiríre: "Jesus must die, Ní mór bás, must die." I was mortified. I could just see him doing that while on one of his baby play dates at a friend’s house — probably the last play date with that baby friend.

We pulled that CD out of the Volvo after that 🙂

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Mar sin,, ar maidin, Is é mo mhac a chinneadh a fheiceáil Halo srianta aoise déag- 3 físeán ag Gamespot. I’m outside shoveling snow, so I’m not there to help or hinder. Necessity is the mother of invention and all that … he has a eureka! moment. He realizes that even though Gamespot wants him to enter his fíor- Dáta breithe, Is féidir leis dul isteach i ndáiríre aon birth date he wants. Once he realized that, rinne sé é féin sean go leor a fheiceáil ar an físeán.

I’m not quite sure how I feel about this 🙂

Ag mo chéad phost amach as an choláiste i 1991, Bhí mé ádh a bheith ag obair do chuideachta déantúsaíochta le 13 suímh, not including its corporate HQ in New Jersey. I joined just when the company was rolling out a new ERP system. We were a small IT department of about ten people altogether, two of whom Did Not Travel. Part of the project involved replacing IBM System 36 boxes with HP hardware and HPUX. Everyone used green tubes to access the system.

Rollaí an tionscadal chomh maith agus tá mé ag sheoladh síos go Dún na Séad le nua comh-oibrí, Jeff. Our job was to power up the Unix box, déan cinnte an O / S bhí ag rith, shuiteáil ar an gcóras ERP, chumrú an ERP, train people on the ERP and do custom work for folks on the spot. (Bhí sé seo i gcomhair poist bhrionglóid, go háirithe ag teacht díreach amach as an choláiste). Before we could really get off the ground, is gá dúinn a unpack go léir na feadáin glas, put them on desks and wire them. And the best part was that we had to put the RJ11 connectors on ourselves.

Ar chúis éigin riamh go bhfuil mé thuig agus níor shíl i ndáiríre a iarraidh mar gheall ar an am, bhí againn go raibh roinnt cuideachta conarthachta thagann chomh maith agus a reáchtáil cábla ar fud na plandaí, but we didn’t have them put on the connectors. Mar sin,, there was a "patch box" with dozens of of unlabeled cables in the "computer room" agus snaked seo timpeall an fhoirgnimh go dtí áiteanna éagsúla san fhoirgneamh.

D'oibríomar ar ár bhealach a dhéanamh tríd sé le linn an deireadh seachtaine, tástáil gach sreang, a chur ar a cónascaire (ag déanamh cinnte go raibh sé díreach vs. thrasnaigh), cinntiú na socruithe beagán ar an feadáin glas agus printéirí a bhí ceart, labeling wires, making sure that "getty" was running correctly for each port and probably a thousand other things that I’ve suppressed since then. It all came together quite nicely.

Ach, there was one important cable that we couldn’t figure out. The plant in Baltimore had a relationship with a warehousing location in New Jersey. Some orders placed in Baltimore shipped out of that location. There were two wires that we had to connect to the HPUX box: a green tube and a printer. The green tube was easy, ach an printéir iompú isteach i nightmare trí seachtaine.

Más rud é nach bhfuil a fhios agat é, nó suppressed sé, ag déileáil le feadáin glas agus printéirí ar an mbealach seo, there are various options that you deal with by setting various pins. 8-giotán, 7-giotán, paireacht (fiú / corr / aon cheann), probably others. If you get one of those settings wrong, an fheadáin nó chuig printéir Léiríonn fós stuif, ach beidh sé gibberish iomlán, or it will be gibberish with a lot of recognizable stuff in between. Ar ndóigh,, these pins are hard to see and have to be set by using a small flat-edge screw driver. And they are never standard.

Leagtha muid suas an chéad cheann glaonna tapaidh go leor leis an Guy NJ (a hater ríomhaire grizzled a mallachtaí is dócha dúinn ar an lá seo). We got the green tube working pretty quickly, but we couldn’t get the printer to work. It kept "printing garbage". We would create a new RJ11 connector, switching between crossed and straight. We would delete the port and re-created in Unix. We went through the arduous task of having him explain to us the pin configuration on the printer, riamh cinnte i ndáiríre má bhí sé ag déanamh i gceart.

Tá sé faoi am le dul beo, Tá gach rud i nDún na Séad portaireacht, ach ní féidir linn a fháil ar an printéir cursed suas i NJ a bheith ag obair! We’ve exhausted all possibilities except for driving back up to NJ to work on the printer in person. To avoid all that driving, we finally ask him to fax us what he’s getting when it’s "garbage", ag súil go b'fhéidir go mbeidh roinnt leid sa truflais a insint dúinn cad tá ag éirí linn mícheart.

Nuair a fuair muid an facs, we immediately knew what was wrong. Féach, our method of testing whether we had configured a printer correctly was to issue an "lp" ordú mar seo:

LP / etc / passwd

Go bunúsach, we printed out the unix password file. It’s always present and out of the box, always just one page. You standard Unix password file looks something like this:

gabha:*:100:100:8A-74(oifig):/baile / gabha:/usr / bin / sh
:*:200:0::/baile / aoi:/usr/bin/sh  

We had been printing out the password file over and over again for several weeks and it was printing correctly. Mar sin féin, don úsáideoir deiridh, it was "printing garbage".

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