Twice in the last week or so someone at work has asked me about some obscure piece of functionality and I have replied that we don’t have to worry about it because no one on Earth uses that functionality and no one ever will… only to, a few days later, have a customer open a task because they are having a problem with that exact same obscure, never used piece of functionality.

It happened last week and it just happened again this morning.

I guess I am a technological jinx. I give up. I’m not answering questions anymore. I’m keeping my big, dumb, jinx mouth shut.

It’s My Fault, Sorry

I turned on the Red Sox game and the Sox were leading the Orioles 1-0 in the bottom of the fourth inning.  Chris Sale had pitched four innings retiring 12 of 12 Oriole hitters, striking out eight.

Now that I was watching though… in the top of the fifth he walked a batter, gave up a hit, and gave up a run.  Why?  Because I am a jinx, plain and simple.

Sorry about that, Chris Sale.  Next time you’re half way through a perfect game I’ll put on the radio instead.

Friday the 13th

Somehow I failed to realize when I woke up today that it was Friday the 13th. I knew it was Friday. I am pretty sure I knew it was the 13th. Amazingly enough though, my idiot brain failed to put those two facts together.

Lately almost every day has felt like one of those, “I shoulda stayed in bed” days. Friday the 13th? It’s only 9:00am and I haven’t even started my work day yet… and I know that the day and the date together have no bearing on anything that will happen. They are just arbitrary names after all. Today just as easily could have been called Flumeday the Flibbtytenth. Still though…

I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

Friday the 13th and the Red Sox

When I woke up on Thursday September 12, 2013 the Boston Red Sox were in first place in the American League East Division with a magic number of eight.

When I woke up on Friday September 13, 2013 the Boston Red Sox were still in first place in the American League East Division with a magic number of eight.

Why is it that yesterday that magic number seemed tiny and all but a given (not actually a given, this is Boston after all), but today it seems massive. Eight seems gigantic, like the black hole at the center of the Milky Way gigantic. Like unimaginably vast and infinite.

That, dear Internet, is the perfect description of what it means to be a Boston sports fan. Yesterday morning they were coming off a win and all was right with the world. Today they are coming off a loss and it’s nothing but doom and gloom and horror and terror. Sure, the fact that it’s Friday the 13th and I live in a house with a black cat might be having some influence on my thinking today, but mostly it’s just a typical Boston sports fan kinda thing.

Go Red Sox. Please.

Bruins Question

I have a question about my Boston Bruins.

Why is it that almost every time I turn on the game, the B’s opponent immediately scores a goal? It just happened again. I came home from getting the kids at karate class, popped the game onto the radio, and BAM, Ottawa scores.

I fear our Stanley Cup dreams are slipping more each day.