for those who have not had the opportunity to sample the speedy culinary institution known as in ‘n out, it is a ubiquitous west coast burger joint that has garnered a loyal cult following since its inception in 1948. this past weekend i was out on vacation in southern california, and  had my first in ‘n out experience. it has been a week since and i still have the restaurant on my mind.

the most striking difference between in ‘n out and other fast food restaurants is the simplicity of their menu. upon stepping up to the “stand” (what they call the counter), the hungry customer is greeted with this:

there are only three entrees, one side, and four beverage types to choose from. no overwhelming choice, and you can rest assured that if one of the menu options sucked they would most likely remove it from the menu.

that’s not the best part of it though. there is apparently a “secret menu” that the enterprising customer can order from. we all know how well secrets and the internet get along. if you don’t know, then picture rosie o’ donell and donald trump placed in a motorcycle ball cage against their will and you’ll have a good idea. the superiority of the intertubes has produced the unofficial guide to in ‘n out’s secret menu. some of my favorites on there include the ability to order a burger “animal style” or a burger of any size by specifying it as number of patties by number of cheese slices. so, a 2×2 burger is equivalent to a double-double. here’s a youtube video of some guy trying to order a 1024×1024.

some people are ridiculous.

and that brings me to the meat of my post. hah. no pun intended.

because i am a computer nerd to my core, i immediately drew a parallel of my in ‘n out experience to the experience of using google to search the web. google’s website is incredible simple upon first glance, just like in ‘n out’s menu, but there are a whole slew of advanced options to modify your search if you so desire. it’s too bad there isn’t a keyword to make your search results come out like this:

and now i’m going to stop writing since i’m starving.

i added school for scoundrels to my netflix queue based on a blog post i read a few weeks ago. after watching it this afternoon, i was more than pleasantly surprised. it’s rare that i laugh loud and long at a movie without the presence of other people, alcohol, or people on alcohol.

the movie’s protagonist is a young wussbag appropriately played by the one and only napoleon dynamite. after several unfortunate events happen to him (including being fired from volunteering for big brothers/big sisters), a friend of his tells him about a secret school that turns wimpy guys into ladies’ men. admission is five grand, cash only.

napoleon goes on to join the school, which is taught by billy bob thornton, and from there the plot follows a rather predictable series of events:

• napoleon becomes the top student in the school.
• billy bob doesn’t like showboating, so he sets out to ruin napoleon by stealing his girlfriend.
• napoleon swears revenge and enlists the help of a past student (ben stiller) that billy bob ruined as well.
• the two underdogs dig up the dirt on billy bob and set out to publicly expose him at an airport via the movie’s elaborate finale.
• it works, napoleon gets the girl and lots of laughs ensue.

the plot of the movie is not what’s important though. what is important is the hilariousosity of the movie and how closely a lot of it parallels my own life, which i suppose made it even hilariouser for me.

the last quote of the movie is one of my favorite lines of all time: “those who can, do. those who can’t, teach.”

perspective. it’s 9:30 in the evening. the sun has clocked out for the day. my train is late as usual. i pull out my laptop and desperately try to find something with which to entertain myself. in between deciding on solitaire or minesweeper, a shadowy figure arises from the stairs out of the corner of my eye. i glance over and realize that tom hanks has just finished filming castaway and has decided to come ask me a few tough questions.

mountain man and i lock eyes, he glances at my laptop and the barrage begins.

“is that that wee-fye?”

“what?”

“the wye-fee?”

“huh?”

“the stuff them’s advertising all over the city. the wee-fee.”

“oh, the wifi.”

“what is that, internet or something?”

“yes, it is internet.”

“oh. mumble mumble. bye.”

this conversation was real, nothing has been altered, except for the exclusion of incoherent mumblings which comprised 96% of the exchange. seriously.