Amit ordered AT&T cable modem service for us last week. This is a very valuable service, because your Internet connection uses the existing capacious wiring responsible for delivering the rich programming of cable television. Believe it or not, this ingenious system can quickly pay for itself. For example, using a cable modem, you can download Internet pornography so fast that you can safely unsubscribe from some of your “extra” channels. If you get my drift.
When you order this amazing service, you have to provide a unique number (usually “8”) embedded into your computer's network card. They use this number to identify your computer (”Torvald”), because if someone tries to connect using an unidentified computer, then they wouldn't know whose computer it was, and they wouldn't be able to watch your every move and report you to the authorities for typing “breast” into a completely scientific email message, such as the one you wrote to Dave last week carefully weighing the evidence for and against the attractiveness of the new hire. The authorities report that she's not interested in either of you.
Not knowing the unique number for my specially configured connection-sharing computer, Amit did the next best thing and gave AT&T the number (”8”) of the card in his laptop (”Hortense”). But they only let you connect one device directly to the network, so when I finished setting up my magical machine, I had to call them to update our little number. Simple, right?
So I called them up, unique number in hand, and told them what I needed them to do. “Okay,” said the lady on the phone, “I'll just need the security code on your account.”
”I don't have the security code,” I said, “because my roommate opened the account with you and he's asleep.”
”It's probably his mother's maiden name,” she replied helpfully.
I don't know her that well, so I hung up. On cue, Amit woke up. “What's the security code for the cable modem account?” I asked him.
”Security code? I don't know. They never asked me for one. The basic cable service is under the landlord's name.”
I called our landlord, Ron, and explained that I needed to know his mother's maiden name so I could get on the Internet. This must have sounded extremely suspicious. Thinking quickly, Ron gave me a name which sounded plausible, by which I mean that I've heard the word before. So I called AT&T again, explained what I wanted to do, and was again asked for the security code. Yeah, sure, I got that. “It's _______.”
”Sorry, that's not correct.”
But this was a new person, and she was generous and/or careless enough to be satisfied that I knew my own address. “Okay, the change has been made. Just so you know, the security code is ____.”
Heartened, I went to Amit and told him a) that we had Internet, and b) the security code.
”Hey! That's my mother's maiden name! How'd they get that?”
So we are very happy with our new Internet connection from American Telephone ”&” Telegraph And Television And Telecommunication And Maiden Names And Most Of Your Air, and we couldn't recommend them more highly. It's just that I always have this creepy feeling that every word I type is being carefully
A!&%DFKJF(*&FJKGDSD%$
NO CARRIER
Pedro and I hit the gym for our second Workout 2: The Torso-ing. It was a fine workout in all ways except for the leg curl — the lone leg exercise in this routine — wherein my calves cramped up just as things were getting interesting. This is not without precedent, in the sense that it almost always happens when I do the leg curl. I suspect it's due to the non-standard construction of my lower legs. I hope to figure out a way around it. Fascinatingly, Pedro and I each have strong areas (his chest, my legs) which have weak points (his shoulder, my calves and feet). I wonder if this is common.
Afterward we went straight to Bartley's. Their burgers and sweet potato fries always hit the spot. Yum.
After a short intermission for personal hygiene, we went to see Memento at Kendall Square Cinema. 15 minutes in, I leaned over and whispered, “This is a great movie.” Pedro nodded. Afterward, I declaimed, “My immediate reaction is precisely the same one I had to The Usual Suspects: I want to see it again right now.” As we discussed our interpretations all the way back to the T, I realized the two main differences: Suspects' ending negated the story, while Memento's enriches it; and Suspects' clever construction was for the sake of cleverness, while Memento's illuminates for the viewer the protagonist's world. Thus, while I am not enamored some of the themes found in the film, the intellectual participation it demands both during and after viewing makes it one of my favorite films.