Tomorrow I Take the Hog

So tomorrow I'm meeting a Yahoo Personals person. Her name is Ash.

I asked her if Ash was short for Ashley, because here in Fran it's as likely as not that her name is just Ash, short for nothing.

She didn't answer the first time I asked, so I asked again, but this time suggested some guesses as to what it might be short for: Ashley, or Ashalonia, or Jordash?

I'm smooth like that.

Apparently people on the Right Coast never ask what Ash is short for. They just know it's short for Ashley. I assumed it was short for Ashley, but just would go so far as to say I was sure it stood for Ashley.

Anyhow, we're meeting for Tea tomorrow and, since I've finally managed to construct a little platform with casters on the bottom so I can get my scooter out the people door, I'm taking my scooter to meet her. It'll be nice to be out on the open road again, wind whipping at my helmet, my poorly chosen jacket making me either too hot or too cold.

One Little Conversation

Because it's so close to my bed time, I'll just relate this small conversation I overheard in Safeway:

Safeway Checker: (Holding the Old Lady's check) What's your phone number?
Old Lady: I wrote it on the check.
SC: Where?
OL: On the check.
SC: Where on the check?
OL: In the middle.
SC: Where?
OL: In the middle of the check. On top.
SC: Oh. There it is. It's tiny.
OL: But it's there.
SC: Yes, but it's tiny.
OL: Yes, but it's there.

First off, who uses checks? Really.

Secondly, don't argue with customers because you weren't blessed with supurb powers of observation.

And lastly, open more self-service checkout lanes. Things go much faster if we don't have to work together.

I have a Sunburnt Face

On Sunday I went to the beach. And even though it was a San Francisco beach, and I packed a windbreaker and a sweatshirt, I still brought sunscreen. And even though I sprayed said sunscreen right directly into my face, I still ended up red faced today.

I thought I was being so thorough. I got some in my mouth and everything.

As a result, and face pouncing tonight will not be tolerated.

(I'm not sure that Norbert reads these, but talking to her doesn't work so I'm trying all modes of communication.)

The Door Gets Closed Part II

When peeing with a kitten in residence, close the bathroom door so that it CLICKS. Peeing is plenty interesting for kitten to head-butt the door until it opens. And at that point there's nothing to be done except have a pee-headed kitten in bed with you all night.

Norbert Extravaganza

The Door Gets Closed

Tonight I entered the bathroom with the intent to pee. I had my pants down, the toilet seat up, and was all ready to go (as it were) when Norbert barreled through the bathroom door and jumped into the toilet. All the way in: 4 feet in the bowl.

Luckily I have a low flow toilet so she only got her toes damp, but from now on I'm closing the door. I don’t need any soggy pee-soaked cats pouncing on my face at 6 am. A clean, dry cat pouncing on my face is quite enough thank you.

Memories

While I was driving home today I was listing to All Things Considered on NPR. During the show they had one of their commentary things where a guy came on and talked about his summer long ago when he worked at a shaved-ice stand. He related how this girl came by the stand every day for 2 weeks and always got a tootie fruity flavored ice.

His story reminded me of the summer after my freshman year of college when I would get lunch at this teriyaki place every day. There was a very cute girl who worked there and I kept trying to get up the nerve to ask her out. One day, (a day when I had brought my lunch) I worked up the nerve. I walked up to the counter and said, "can I have a small drink and your phone number?"

She paused and said, "I have a boyfriend."

"Oh," I said. "Just the small drink then." And I gave her a $10 bill.

I took my drink, sat outside, and ate my lunch in shame, not returning to the teriyaki place to refill my drink, or for the rest of the summer.

To add insult to injury, when I got back to my desk that day I realized that she had only given me $3 in change. $7 is a but much for a small drink.

I'm proud to say that I still physically flinch when I remember that story. That story is an excellent example of one of the many reasons I prefer online dating.

Risk

The problem with going to the bathroom with the door open, being a guy, and having a curious cat, is that you run the risk of peeing on your cat's head when it looks to see what's making all the noise in the toilet. Luckily it only takes a drop to make her realize that looking into the toilet from between my legs maybe isn't her most brilliant idea.

Done it Again

I've taken the plunge a second time and written to two girls on Yahoo Personals. The first girl wrote me a very nice email first, but has neither a profile nor a picture. I've waited two days for her to get either of those things, but it just hasn't happened. I fear that something fishy is afoot. Or something footy is afish, which I think might be worse.

The second one plays the bass, likes street art, and is an atheist. I'm not sure what street art is, but I bet I'll like it too. And there are very few of us atheists out in the dating pool, so at least we won't get into a huge screaming match over religion. Then again, I don't think I've ever been in a huge screaming match. Actually, I don't know if I've ever screamed at anyone, competitively or not.

How Did They Know?

Two people, TWO PEOPLE, have found my blog by searching for "years between girlfriends," except without quotes. I don't know if I've ever written that phrase, but it's eerily accurate.

I Take It Back

Norbert tipped over her big water dish, got her self all wet, then promptly jumped in her littler box. She's back on the bottle.

Norbert Wins a Battle, Sort of

Through constant complaining, looking crestfallen when she drinks from her hamster bottle, and licking furiously at any stray shower water, Norbert has won the right to drink out of a water dish again. However, this water dish is 9 or so inches tall so she can't step in it. And it lives in the bathtub where she can't spill it into the kitty litter.

While I was typing this she was pouncing on the carpet. When I looked over at her she turned and swiftly dove away from me, headfirst, into the wall. She does that kind of thing all the time and I think it's her most endearing attribute. I never tire of watching her hurt* herself through blatant stupidity.



*She doesn't seem hurt, but I know it would hurt if I did the same thing.

Slowbe

If, because you were talking to the passenger, you missed getting through a very quick light wouldn't you pay more attention the second time the light was about to turn green? And, if you were about to make the nice person in the white van behind you miss the light for the second time, would you be surprised and turn around to look at him if he were to honk at you?

If the answers to those questions are no and yes respectively, then you were driving the old Camry in front of me while I was trying to get home. And, while I have your attention, if you could please never drive again, that would be great. I don't appreciate driving through a veeeeerrrry long intersection when the light turns yellow the second I put my foot on the gas.

You're also bad at turning left, even when there is no oncoming traffic.

And your car is ugly.

And your breath probably stinks.

So there.

Much Better

My landlords, in a misguided effort to save on energy bills, adjusted my shower so that it doesn't get super hot. In my opinion, they were a little over zealous in their efforts and sometimes the water is just slightly less warm than is comfortable. This morning I took the knob apart and readjusted it so I can burn myself if the need overtakes me.

With the variety of temperatures I now have at my disposal I'm going to have to make an extra effort not to sit down and stretch out in the bathtub, luxuriating under a pleasantly warm shower downpour - at least not if I want to have time to eat something before I leave in the morning. It was easy when I would freeze to death when I got less than a foot away from the showerhead. (There's an amazing change in water temperature between the time the water comes out the spout and when it hits the tub. Just one more piece of information that will not, under any circumstance, some in handy, ever.)

Amazon Sells Everything

I wonder what kind of gas mileage it gets. Click the picture to look at the listing on Amazon.

Special Powers

When I'm about to turn off a light and I know Norbert is staring at me, I like to snap my fingers and turn off the light at the same time. My hope is that she'll wish she had opposable thumbs so she could control the lights too.

Fountain of Wayne, or, um Youth

Today, because of a mix-up with one of our accounts where they gave a bunch of our stuff to another DME*, I was looking through our personnel files. (There are only 6 files.) According to the account, they gave our stuff to a short, fat guy. We don't really have any fat guys, but one of the techs is a little short, and to find out just how short, I looked in the file to discover that he's 5'5". I guessed 5'6", so no big surprises there.

However, when I looked in another guy's file, the same guy who talks to dead people and sets off his car alarm all the time, the same guy who I would have guessed was no older than early 40's, turned out to be 53! I realize this story has a huge had-to-be-there factor, but rest assured that nobody, and I mean NOBODY would have guessed this guy was 53. When I asked the Short Guy to guess how old Dead-People Guy was, he guessed 30 something. I swear he sleeps in a vegetable crisper, or in a zip-lock bag, or maybe takes off his face at night before going to sleep.

Speaking of being older than expected, there's a nurse that works at a rehab facility I go to all the time who always waves and says "Hi Michael." I was surprised the first time she did it because, as far as I know, I've never introduced myself to her. Because of her constant waving, saying hello, and pervasive friendliness people tell me she's interested in me. But as I slowly progress past the age where people are assumed to be single, I've started checking ring fingers. Sure enough, the nurse has a ring finger. (And the finger has a ring on it. These parentheses were needed because the ring finger sentence was a typo, and I mean to leave off the word "finger." Alas, after I typed it, it was too funny to delete.)

Today, Short Tech was delivering mattresses to the rehab facility, and the nurse approached him and asked where I was, and said I was cute, and asked how old I was, and said that she's probably too old for me. I'm not sure about being too old for me - she doesn't look older than me. But I'm pretty sure she's too married for me. Unless I've repeatedly confused her left and right hands, or have lost the ability to figure out which finger is the ring finger.

Weird. Just weird.

*Durable Medical Equipment supplier.

Cat-like Reflexes

I've put a screw into a stud in my ceiling and hung from it the mouse-on-a-sting contraption I invented last night. Norbert had an excellent time playing with it, but eventually got tired and sat, face at mouse level, staring at me. Being the helpful cat dad that I am, I pulled the mouse back and let it swing at her. It arced gracefully down and hit her in the nose. Twice.

When she's done playing, she's done playing.

While typing this I've been leaning forward in my computer chair and Norbert has been eyeing me from my bed. Apparently eyeing me got old, because she just leapt from the bed to land wedged between my back and the back of my chair. Imagine throwing a hotdog into some cleavage. (Actually that's not a good representation at all, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't imagine it.) It would be nice to have the blind faith that anywhere you decided to jump you'd land between some fat and a soft place.

Run of the Mill Day

Today I went to work, did some deliveries, did a pickup, fixed a pump, and came home.

For dinner I had microwavable green beans with almonds and a Yoplait. (Because I ate the GB&A first, I ate the yogurt with a the same implement: A fork. It just isn't possible to eat a whole container of yogurt with a fork. You just end up with an extremely well stirred quarter inch of yogurt backwash.)

After dinner I did dishes, cleaned my kitchen table, the door of my microwave, the door of my toaster oven, and my bathroom mirror.

Post cleaning, I made a new cat toy which entailed tying a little toy mouse to a string and thumb tacking the whole shebang to the ceiling. It seems to be a big hit.

The point of all this is not to bore you all to death with my typical day. The point is that sooner or later I'm going to have to go find a social life. Norbert is cute and all, but I think I need somebody with better conversation skills.

When Do Kittens Stop Being Bipolar?

About a half hour after I got home from work today Norbert was flying around my apartment, bouncing off walls, and hitting her head on hard things like tile, the armrest of my futon, and the bathtub. None of this stuff seems to bother her because, I think, she's nuts.

In an effort to wear her out I took my mouse extractor (unfolded wire hanger) down from the wall and fished her little stuffed mice out from under the refrigerator and the oven. We played fetch for a while, and then 15 minutes later, I fished them out again. (It's hard to see under there. I had to use the old light bulbs from my thank you sign and a 12 volt transformer to see. I wonder where my flashlight is.) After the second time she stowed the mice under my appliances, I moved on to taunting her with the feather-on-a-string-stick. When my hand started going to sleep I put that away and proclaimed her sufficiently played with and set off to the bathroom.

She thought the bathroom was an excellent place to continue play time, and tried to climb my towel. Unfortunately Norbert hasn't yet become an expert in physics, and was therefore surprised when the towel came off the rack and she landed with a thud on the tile floor. I guess when she runs into something hard enough it makes her apparate, because when I picked up the towel she wasn't under there, and when I looked to the door she was just poking her head into the bathroom. Amazing.

After the bathroom I retired to the couch where Norbert decided to shoot cat turds out of her litter box. She has an excellent forehand. After the turdcapades where over she decided it was love time. She climbed onto my shoulder, purred, and allowed almost 10 minutes of Fancy Quality petting. She was not happy when I picked her up so I could brush litter off my shoulder and go play with my computer.

She's currently attacking all the portions of my comforter that have ever wronged her or may wrong her in the future. It's my theory that part of her beef with the comforter is that it's covering my pillows. Alas, I had no choice but to cover them after I found some sort of kitty litter mulch spread all over one of them before going to bed last night. She keeps bedtime full of surprises.

I like to keep things interesting for her too. I have a perfectly lovely desk fan that I've put on my bedside table. The reason it's on my bedside table and not near my window is that it has no grill, and I'm a little afraid Norbert will walk into it in the middle of the night and I'll wake up covered it kitty bits. She doesn't have nearly the same interest in exploring my bedside table as she does my windowsill, so I think we're safe.

Still Behind

I've just realized I was tagged in a chain blog. So, Since it happened so many posts ago that I had to go back to Joo's archives to find where, I'd better get to it:

I'm supposed to be listing 10 songs that I'm into at the moment. It's actually a little thought since I usually listen to whole albums, but I'll give it a shot.

1) David Eugene Edwards - Strawfoot (Solo and acoustic from the soundtrack of Searching for the Wrong Eyed Jesus, which is an EXCELLENT movie.)
2) Turin Brakes - Buildings Wrap Around Me. I wish I could fingerpick.
3) Tegan and Sara - Walking with a Ghost. I figure I should have at least 1 top 40 song on here. (Did it make it to the top 40? I only say that because I heard it for the first time on the radio.)
4) Elbow - Powder Blue
5) Muse - Falling Down
6) Turin Brakes - Mind Over Money. I watched them play it at their show, but I still can't figure out the first chord.
7) Cake - End of the Movie
8) Guster - Red Oyster Cult
9) Old 97s - Question (Again, the solo acoustic version.)
10) Tom McRae - A and B Song

My sincerest apologies to all the mp3s that didn't make the list.

Shopping

Both Sunday, and today, have been full of purchasing things at low, low prices. Some low prices are deals, some are not.

I paid a little under $2 for this can of squid. I'll never eat it, but it's hard to come by a conversation piece as fetching as this one for under $5 in today's high priced markets.



I'd like to make sure I point out that the squid is canned in "natural ink" and it's of "Fancy Quality." There's quality squid, and then there's Fancy Quality squid. Do people drink the juice like with they do with canned peaches?

Also purchased on Sunday were a stack of very nice plates, a handsome file cabinet, and a toaster oven for a total of $11. All three were purchased at a garage sale where they were also selling, among other things, a culture incubator. We asked what one does with a culture incubator and the woman said, "Jeff works in biotech, but not with anything dangerous, and he brought it home one day from the office. I guess you use it to incubate ... um ..."

"Cultures?" we asked.

"Yes, cultures." she said.

Today, after hearing about how beef stew was the easiest thing ever to make and that once it's made it lasts for a week, I went in search of a crock-pot. I found one for sale in San Mateo for a mere $3. The ad said:

RIVAL CROCKPOT -Works. Used. Has hard water stain. Don’t know how to clean it.

I drove down to San Mateo and rang the crock-pot lady's bell. She came down and handed it to me in a paper bag, and I gave her my $3. With money in hand she inquired, "What are you going to use it for ... out of curiosity?"

What I wanted to say was, "to incubated cultures. The culture incubator at the other garage sale was too much, but I think this will work just as well."

What I actually said was, "um. To cook stuff."

She thoughtfully replied, "He he he. Is it because you are single? Is that why?"

"Um. Yeah. And I want to make beef stew."

With the small talk out of the way I took my new crock-pot home and took a closer look at the hard water stain. As a former metalworker, I can tell you with some certainty that this hard water stain would, by most people, be called rust. It seems the delightful lady who sold it to me scrubbed the sides of the pot down to raw steel. Unfortunately, with gas at $2.65 a gallon, it isn't worth driving back there to get my money back. So I suppose it's time to see if somebody on Craigslist would like a slightly rusty crock-pot for, say, $5.

Here's to shopping.

Fashion

When I was in Ohio my friends Jeremy and Brandon went to Cedar Point, the amusement park which, according to them, has been voted world's best 7 years running. I rode all the rollercoasters I wanted to, and only 1 that I didn't. (It was the coaster's fault. It pretended to be cool and ended up not being.) But my favorite part of the whole day was this girl.

She was a gangly 14 or 15 year old, skinny and awkward. Her eyebrow spanned both eyes and was both dense and black. When she smiled and/or talked she had little tiny teeth, but great big and overly visible gums. And lastly, her arms were covered in the same corse thick hair which shaded her eyes. And, as if to embrace her look, she wore a shirt that said "Some girls are born lucky."

One Weekend, Two Pick-ups

It seems that all my best stories are destined to be somebody else's. But I feel it's ok to tell them as long as I'm not more than 1 person removed from the story. Which I am, so here goes the story:

While my coworker drove me to work today (I didn't have my van since I'd left it at the depot before going to the airport on Thursday) he told me about his weekend. He was on call and it was, apparently, pretty busy.

One of his calls was for a pickup of a mattress which never got used in Napa. This happens from time to time, especially for hospice accounts.

He went to the house to pick up the mattress, and was led into a room with the hospital bed, complete with mattress, and a second regular bed, presumably for use of the caregiver or family member. He, for whatever reason, sat down on the edge of the normal bed to ready himself to deflate and bag the air mattress. But when his butt touched the bed, the family member who had led him into the house said, "Maybe you shouldn't sit there. My Grandma is sill under the covers." He looked around to see, apparently for the first time, that there was a person-shaped lump under the covers.

Later that weekend my coworker went to pickup a mattress from a facility. He found the room in question, but the person was still in the bed. He said to the patient, "Hello sir. I'm here to switch out your mattress. I'll be right back with the nurse."

So off he went to find a nurse. When he found one he explained that the patient was still in the bed, and the nurse said someone was coming to get the person up. So my coworker went back into the room to wait. The nurses seemed to be taking their time in coming to get the patient out of bed, so my coworker said a few things to the patient; All small talk, or whatever it is that my coworker considers small talk.

Finally, after 20 minutes or so, he heard footsteps approaching the room. Through the door entered two men in suits and ties wheeling a gurney. They picked up the sheet the patient was laying on, the patient, and the top sheet and lifted the whole shebang onto the gurney. Then they covered the patient's face, and wheeled him out the door.

For those of you who are keeping score that's:
Sightings of dead people: 2
Conversations with the recently departed: 1
Number of times either of those things has happened to me: 0

And believe you me, I'm not unhappy about it.

Yahoo Dating

My readership seems to be falling off. I'm sure this is due in part to the fact that I haven't been posting much, and partly because hurting myself with a drill and a kitten isn't that funny. So for that reason, and because I think I'd like to be dating somebody, I should get around to signing up with Yahoo! again. Uncomfortable dating stories were always pretty popular.

Although signing up for Yahoo! Personals again means that I'll have to figure out how Hal Sparks seems to have so effectively infiltrated the world of online dating. Maybe I'm arriving at the same profile several times, but it seems like every other girl has a picture of herself standing with Hal Sparks. He's funny and all, but I wonder why he has so much time to wander around taking pictures with people.

So, yeah. I think I'll do that next week. Oh, and as you can see, my sister has started a blog. It's over to the right there under blog relations. Now you too can know what it's like to live in Las Vegas with a teacher and 2 large dogs.

Beeeeep

Hi. Sorry I can't get to he blog right now, I'm in Ohio. But please leave your name, email, and a short but detailed comment, and I'll start posting as soon as I get back.

Excellent Drivers

The first two are excellent in appearance: I saw two, yes two drivers of newish convertible mustangs with blond poodle style curly hair which must have been permed. Oh yeah, and they were dudes.

The third is excellent because of his driving prowess: I was a few cars back at a stoplight when the light turned green and the left lane left. Once the left lane cleared and it became clear that the right lane was going to stay put, I pulled around everyone and cruised through the intersection. As I passed the lead right car I looked over to see him with his head back on the seat, eyes closed, sleeping peacefully. I suppose he could have also died, but I prefer to think he was sleeping.