Monthly Archives: March 2011

Remove Cookies

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It’s good to do a “full scan” of your computer system. There is a filename called “ad.yieldmanager.com”. It’s a “tracking cookie”. Here is what the article says about this file:

Is ad.yieldmanager.com spyware?

Although ad.yieldmanager.com is not considered spyware or malware, in the hands of an attacker it can prove to be harmful. So it’s up to you if you want your surfing habits or sensitive information to be shared across multiple domains or sold to third-parties for malicious purposes.

So what do you do? Delete the file and block the cookie from the browser:

  • For Internet Explorer: Tools > Internet Options > Privacy > Sites: type in yieldmanager.com > Block.
  • For Firefox: Tools > Options > Privacy > Use custom settings for history > Exceptions > Address of web sites: type in yieldmanager.com > Block.

20110331-Nice Folks

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Besides the brief hug from Mike this morning while I still had my uneaten plate of bagel, Amy L. from maintenance just came by my desk and told me she had received my “farewell” email but she doesn’t know computer. In her best English, she said I was good. And then she wrote down her phone number on the yellow sticky note.

She looked different because her haircut is better, making her hair not stick out of her head like before. I’ll miss her too. She designs “motherboards”, by the way.

20110331-More Spooks

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Though people are friendly towards me, there is a tendancy to attract the “bad” side. While little Theresa and I walked to the parking lot, she talked about how it’s nice that I could drive — that being I’m the guy and she is the girl. So right there, she’s a friggin, faggot! That was more than twice that she alluded to this nutty comment.

So I grilled her if she felt dizzy on the road while driving, was too slow or if she had gotten into accidents, whatever. She claimed not to drive too far into San Francisco and Santa Cruz because from what she said her driving is not that reliable. She lets her husband drive her.

Again, people like her expect me to get out of the house and hang out with friends. She’s not the only one who told me to get a life. But people like her don’t realize how expensive it is to maintain a relationship — buy now, reciprocate later. I pissed off at her and told her that I really don’t like friends: They just get in the way.

She then explained her version but I really didn’t want to hear her. She kept encouraging me to keep in touch with her and call her; so we could go out to lunch together again. Even the temp girl would like me to hang out with her and have some drinks! You know what? Go away! I just don’t have the clothes, shoes, money or character to play off hanging around people that I don’t want to be close!

Even my hair was cut short to disguise myself and to look more professional but for whatever reason, people know that I’m not that serious! Little Theresa wanted me to meet her brother, who is around my age and no doubt a short person, like her! Honestly, I won’t be entirely “satisfied” with Asians, especially if he doesn’t have a job! I don’t care if he may be wealthy.

Most Vietnamese are “wealthy” before they came to America. I’m just not interested in meeting people, period. I’d rather sleep and daydream; blog and rant; jump up and down in the garden and play with the parakeets and give the twosome a hard time.

What people don’t realize is that I’ve had enough with those damn dramas. Sure, people are friendly at first but I’d hate to know their “dark side” and after awhile the excitement goes away until another phone call to kill the misery of a miserable person who is bored to death.

Go away, freaks! Stop bothering me!

20110331-Random Thoughts

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My thoughts were about “my family” again and how much safer surfing is compared to the dangerous sport of snowboarding. I was thinking about the potential of injury and the rising cost of health care insurance. It was a thought when I ran towards my car after morning mass one morning and felt a pinch within my left hip socket.

Once again, freaks! Don’t get me wrong! I have my own life to live in the Bay Area. Don’t expect me, an unmarried, childless, unemployed spoiled brat, to oblige what is practially unrealistic and downright unaffordable. If other people than the twosome found out what I’ve been doing, they’d label me as crazy. And in hindsight, that’s it — crazy, for being “nice”.