Onion Famine
Nobody has looked at my profile on the Onion Personals for 10 days now. I'm not sure what happened. This does not bode well. I wait for somebody to show interest, then pounce.
See, I don't send out emails asking anyone out. That's never worked. It costs 200 points to send out an email, and I'm not wild about spending my points on asking out a cold and unanswering universe. It's just as useful and much cheaper to pray for a date.
"Please god, send me a girl who likes travel, fine dining, to have a good time* but also likes a chill night at home watching a movie*."
* Are there people who dislike having a good time?
** Is she implying that watching a movie at home isn't fun?
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Car
- I washed it for the first time today. I managed to get the spot right in front of my house this weekend. But my Saturday was full of Yuba City, my Sunday took me to Pacifica, and the other days this week have been plagued by gloomy dark clouds and cold air. But since street cleaning happens on Thursday on my side of the street, tonight was my last chance to take advantage of my proximity to the hose. So my car is shiny and clean again, but I may catch my death of cold after repeated self hosings in the cold gloomy Southern edge of San Francisco weather.
- My previously neglected emails were all getting answered this evening when I got distracted by researching cold air intakes. But upon discovering that the horsepower boost is up at 5400 RPM and that they can cause vapor lock, I switched to investigating my auto loan. And holy crap does sales tax suck. It added something along the lines of $1317.50 to the price of my car. I should have bought it in Oregon. It's going to take me a little longer that I was expecting to pay it off.
- My gigantic mirror left its mark; literally. While I was washing the car I found a divot on the top edge of my bumper. I guess that's what I ran the mirror into when I broke the bottom while getting it out of the car. I kind of felt vindicated on behalf of the car that there was only a small divot in the paint and the mirror sustained far more damage. But then I realized that both of them belong to me and that in the end I've lost both ways.
- I washed it for the first time today. I managed to get the spot right in front of my house this weekend. But my Saturday was full of Yuba City, my Sunday took me to Pacifica, and the other days this week have been plagued by gloomy dark clouds and cold air. But since street cleaning happens on Thursday on my side of the street, tonight was my last chance to take advantage of my proximity to the hose. So my car is shiny and clean again, but I may catch my death of cold after repeated self hosings in the cold gloomy Southern edge of San Francisco weather.
- My previously neglected emails were all getting answered this evening when I got distracted by researching cold air intakes. But upon discovering that the horsepower boost is up at 5400 RPM and that they can cause vapor lock, I switched to investigating my auto loan. And holy crap does sales tax suck. It added something along the lines of $1317.50 to the price of my car. I should have bought it in Oregon. It's going to take me a little longer that I was expecting to pay it off.
- My gigantic mirror left its mark; literally. While I was washing the car I found a divot on the top edge of my bumper. I guess that's what I ran the mirror into when I broke the bottom while getting it out of the car. I kind of felt vindicated on behalf of the car that there was only a small divot in the paint and the mirror sustained far more damage. But then I realized that both of them belong to me and that in the end I've lost both ways.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Girlfriend
On Friday night I had a girlfriend dream. I hate girlfriend dreams. I'm happily snuggling with somebody when I wake up to find my pillow and I having a tender moment. Not to take anything away from my pillow, the soft, squishy vixen that it is. It's just that I like my significant others to be less rectangular and pillowcased.
This particular girlfriend dream was actually just an anxiety dream. I was trying to make it home from Brazil (my dream didn't bother to explain that one) and at some point I ended up at a movie theater trying to get to my seat with my girlfriend. (This girlfriend happened to be a friend's ex-girlfriend in real life.) This was not, however, your average movie theater. Imagine a 6 story office building with a great big screen in the parking lot. Now imagine that the wall facing the screen has been removed and the seats go all the way up to the edge. As in there's no walkway to get to a front row seat. You have to climb over the other seats to get into a front row seat, and when I did my feet hung over the edge into 6 stories of nothingness. Also, the seats were too close together, so as everybody moved around and tried to get comfortable, their shoulders would touch mine and they all seemed to be forcing me forward toward the drop off. But despite my eminent death by falling 6 stories, and the fact that I was still trying to escape from Brazil, it was nice to snuggle with my friend's ex.
When I woke up I was relieved to be secure in my bed, but depressed that I have nobody to cling too incase the situation comes up in real life.
On Friday night I had a girlfriend dream. I hate girlfriend dreams. I'm happily snuggling with somebody when I wake up to find my pillow and I having a tender moment. Not to take anything away from my pillow, the soft, squishy vixen that it is. It's just that I like my significant others to be less rectangular and pillowcased.
This particular girlfriend dream was actually just an anxiety dream. I was trying to make it home from Brazil (my dream didn't bother to explain that one) and at some point I ended up at a movie theater trying to get to my seat with my girlfriend. (This girlfriend happened to be a friend's ex-girlfriend in real life.) This was not, however, your average movie theater. Imagine a 6 story office building with a great big screen in the parking lot. Now imagine that the wall facing the screen has been removed and the seats go all the way up to the edge. As in there's no walkway to get to a front row seat. You have to climb over the other seats to get into a front row seat, and when I did my feet hung over the edge into 6 stories of nothingness. Also, the seats were too close together, so as everybody moved around and tried to get comfortable, their shoulders would touch mine and they all seemed to be forcing me forward toward the drop off. But despite my eminent death by falling 6 stories, and the fact that I was still trying to escape from Brazil, it was nice to snuggle with my friend's ex.
When I woke up I was relieved to be secure in my bed, but depressed that I have nobody to cling too incase the situation comes up in real life.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Things I saw on Saturday
-Little Miss Sunshine. It was excellent.
-A guy on the street juggling 2 flaming sticks in front of a bar. He stopped to let me pass.
-People stopping on the freeway to read those big signs that let you know about accidents and road closures. Seriously people, we need to work on our freeway literacy. I was in stop and go traffic 3 times and each time was because people were slowing down to read the sign that said the Bay Bridge would be closed over Labor Day weekend. Admittedly it's a big deal, but after you've read the sign once maybe we could just cruise on by the next 2 times.
-A nerd/punk gang from the 80s. Standing in line in front of me while trying to buy a ticket for Little Miss Sunshine were a group of 5 kids who had completely embraced their nerdatude. They ranged in age from 13 to maybe 16. And the strangest thing about this particular group was that they got their bad-ass rebellious look right out of Pretty in Pink. The youngest kid had curly blond hair hanging over his eye, a rimmed hat tipped back on his head like Duckie, one REALLY large fake diamond earring, a white undershirt, and the very sunglasses from risky business. And while they started out in front of me in line, an argument broke out about who was paying for tickets, and several of us normal people from the 2000's cut in front of them. They didn't seem to mind, or even notice.
-Little Miss Sunshine. It was excellent.
-A guy on the street juggling 2 flaming sticks in front of a bar. He stopped to let me pass.
-People stopping on the freeway to read those big signs that let you know about accidents and road closures. Seriously people, we need to work on our freeway literacy. I was in stop and go traffic 3 times and each time was because people were slowing down to read the sign that said the Bay Bridge would be closed over Labor Day weekend. Admittedly it's a big deal, but after you've read the sign once maybe we could just cruise on by the next 2 times.
-A nerd/punk gang from the 80s. Standing in line in front of me while trying to buy a ticket for Little Miss Sunshine were a group of 5 kids who had completely embraced their nerdatude. They ranged in age from 13 to maybe 16. And the strangest thing about this particular group was that they got their bad-ass rebellious look right out of Pretty in Pink. The youngest kid had curly blond hair hanging over his eye, a rimmed hat tipped back on his head like Duckie, one REALLY large fake diamond earring, a white undershirt, and the very sunglasses from risky business. And while they started out in front of me in line, an argument broke out about who was paying for tickets, and several of us normal people from the 2000's cut in front of them. They didn't seem to mind, or even notice.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
And may God bless me this evening as much as I would bless Him if I were He and He were Charles Dalrymple.*
In my old apartment I had a Brigadoon fly. Once in a while he would show up, fully grown, and buzz around the apartment until he died, all big and ungainly, in the track of the sliding glass door. He never appeared small and grew large. He was full size or he wasn't there at all.
In my new apartment I seem to have a Brigadoon daddy long legs. He appears every so often fully grown in my shower. If he were to appear fully grown by my front door, he might get politely ushered into the garage. But if you're a spider, and I'm naked when I discover you, you are going to die.
I have a theory on why and how the Brigadoon spiders keep appearing. I think that there is an alternate dimension ruled by Spider Command and they happen to have access to an interdimensional portal. Alas, spider world is running out of food, and their plan to combat hunger is to capture a fully grown person. The clothes would be too much trouble to get off when feeding the multitudes, so they send their biggest, best, and brightest into my shower to bag me when I'm clean, fresh, and without indigestible clothing. Unfortunately they keep losing contact with their recruits. Before they can send a message back to headquarters they've been summarily sprayed with raid and flushed down the toilet. Spider Command is baffled but keeps pushing willing daddies long legs through the portal while assuring the population that everything is going smoothly.
Hooray for raid. Some of these suckers have a leg-span which is too big to safely corral inside a wad of toilet paper. Raid makes them a lot more compact, though it does make my shower time quite a bit less pleasant.
*In case you were wondering, it's a quote from Brigadoon.
In my old apartment I had a Brigadoon fly. Once in a while he would show up, fully grown, and buzz around the apartment until he died, all big and ungainly, in the track of the sliding glass door. He never appeared small and grew large. He was full size or he wasn't there at all.
In my new apartment I seem to have a Brigadoon daddy long legs. He appears every so often fully grown in my shower. If he were to appear fully grown by my front door, he might get politely ushered into the garage. But if you're a spider, and I'm naked when I discover you, you are going to die.
I have a theory on why and how the Brigadoon spiders keep appearing. I think that there is an alternate dimension ruled by Spider Command and they happen to have access to an interdimensional portal. Alas, spider world is running out of food, and their plan to combat hunger is to capture a fully grown person. The clothes would be too much trouble to get off when feeding the multitudes, so they send their biggest, best, and brightest into my shower to bag me when I'm clean, fresh, and without indigestible clothing. Unfortunately they keep losing contact with their recruits. Before they can send a message back to headquarters they've been summarily sprayed with raid and flushed down the toilet. Spider Command is baffled but keeps pushing willing daddies long legs through the portal while assuring the population that everything is going smoothly.
Hooray for raid. Some of these suckers have a leg-span which is too big to safely corral inside a wad of toilet paper. Raid makes them a lot more compact, though it does make my shower time quite a bit less pleasant.
*In case you were wondering, it's a quote from Brigadoon.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
The Fastest Way to Lose a Cleaning Deposit
I was looking through the 1 bedroom listings just now and stumbled upon an apartment I was in just this afternoon. It's only $300 a month and it's in Marin, so the rent is about $900 less than your average 1 bedroom in the area. However, there are a few reasons why I can't/won't live there.
-You have to be confined to a wheelchair to rent a unit.
-The whole place smells like (and is filled with) stubbed out cigarettes.
-There's a large bag of pee in the bedroom.
In all of my travels, today was the first time I had ever seen a big bag of pee not attached to the person who was filling it up. I happen to know this guy moved across the country, so he can't have been in such a big hurry that he couldn't properly dispose of his pee bag. Abandoned pee bags really give a room an extra jolt of creepy.
And that, my friends, is just the kind of story I find to be so plentiful in my life, and exactly the kind of story which I could never tell a date.
I was looking through the 1 bedroom listings just now and stumbled upon an apartment I was in just this afternoon. It's only $300 a month and it's in Marin, so the rent is about $900 less than your average 1 bedroom in the area. However, there are a few reasons why I can't/won't live there.
-You have to be confined to a wheelchair to rent a unit.
-The whole place smells like (and is filled with) stubbed out cigarettes.
-There's a large bag of pee in the bedroom.
In all of my travels, today was the first time I had ever seen a big bag of pee not attached to the person who was filling it up. I happen to know this guy moved across the country, so he can't have been in such a big hurry that he couldn't properly dispose of his pee bag. Abandoned pee bags really give a room an extra jolt of creepy.
And that, my friends, is just the kind of story I find to be so plentiful in my life, and exactly the kind of story which I could never tell a date.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Fail Safe Diet Reminder
I just put an 80x42 inch mirror in my living room. And I managed to squeeze it into my xB. Go xB. (I also just managed to squeeze it into my living room with only has an 84 inch ceiling.)
It really makes my living room look bigger and brighter. Unfortunately I now have a full body reminder of my enormity as I walk around my apartment in my undies. I'm either going to have to wear more clothing at home or keep up the jogging.
I just put an 80x42 inch mirror in my living room. And I managed to squeeze it into my xB. Go xB. (I also just managed to squeeze it into my living room with only has an 84 inch ceiling.)
It really makes my living room look bigger and brighter. Unfortunately I now have a full body reminder of my enormity as I walk around my apartment in my undies. I'm either going to have to wear more clothing at home or keep up the jogging.
Monday, August 14, 2006
In Search of The One
I've been updating my Onion Personals profile this evening. I've added a picture of the top half of me in a suit (the bottom half has a suit on too, it just isn't showing), a pumpkin wearing my sunglasses, and of me standing in front of a taqueria. Girls like pumpkins and taquerias right?
I've also tweaked the stuff I've written under the prompts. For instance:
The word or phrase that best describes my personality: Quaint
My most humbling moment:
P.E. class, the 7th grade. There was one day when we were all forced to take a shower, perhaps to promote good personal hygiene. Not being comfortable with public nudity at 13, I moved a little too quickly on my way back to my locker, slipped, fell, and landed hard enough on my elbow that I couldn't get myself back up to my feet. My P.E. teacher, Mr. Everheart, had to help me back to my towel. Wasn't middle school just the best?
The best or worst lie I've ever told
This is the best question ever!
I'll have to wait and see whether any of that scores me a place on anybody's hot list.
In unrelated news, I seem to have a small infestation of fruit flies. This is odd because it's been quite some time since there's been any fruit in here. And while fruit flies are right up there with the most annoying creatures on earth, I do enjoy feeling like a Ninja when I reach out and snatch one out of the air. I'm thinking about practicing with some chopsticks.
I've been updating my Onion Personals profile this evening. I've added a picture of the top half of me in a suit (the bottom half has a suit on too, it just isn't showing), a pumpkin wearing my sunglasses, and of me standing in front of a taqueria. Girls like pumpkins and taquerias right?
I've also tweaked the stuff I've written under the prompts. For instance:
The word or phrase that best describes my personality: Quaint
My most humbling moment:
P.E. class, the 7th grade. There was one day when we were all forced to take a shower, perhaps to promote good personal hygiene. Not being comfortable with public nudity at 13, I moved a little too quickly on my way back to my locker, slipped, fell, and landed hard enough on my elbow that I couldn't get myself back up to my feet. My P.E. teacher, Mr. Everheart, had to help me back to my towel. Wasn't middle school just the best?
The best or worst lie I've ever told
This is the best question ever!
I'll have to wait and see whether any of that scores me a place on anybody's hot list.
In unrelated news, I seem to have a small infestation of fruit flies. This is odd because it's been quite some time since there's been any fruit in here. And while fruit flies are right up there with the most annoying creatures on earth, I do enjoy feeling like a Ninja when I reach out and snatch one out of the air. I'm thinking about practicing with some chopsticks.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Get a Move On
I need some exercise. I've needed some for a while, but my problem with exercise is that I hate it. Moving for the sake of moving isn't fun and makes me feel terrible afterward.
This is not to say that I want to remain stationary on my couch until the end of days. If somebody wanted to go on a hike, I'd go with them. If somebody wanted to play frisbee, I'd play with them. If somebody wanted to go running, I'd remain stationary on my couch. I hate running. Running is awful.
And yet ...
Today I went running. Turns out that running is the only exercise I can get without driving someplace and/or meeting a bunch of new people. I can open my door and run down the block until my lungs threaten to fall out, then I can walk back. Doing anything else takes too long. Running takes 13 minutes of running and 17 minutes of walking back.
If I had a membership to Baly's Total Fitness, I might go there and use their various workout equipment. It's walkable. Unfortunately health club memberships cost roughly a trillion dollars a month.
So alas, the only thing I can think of that will get my out from under my genetic gut of Damocles is running. If anybody has any special techniques that avoid the burning in my chest, the faint taste of blood, shoulder cramps, and the resulting woosey feeling that I suppose is my bad-trip version of a runner's high, then please let me know. I'd love my love handles to go away, but I don't want my cardiovascular system to leave with them.
I need some exercise. I've needed some for a while, but my problem with exercise is that I hate it. Moving for the sake of moving isn't fun and makes me feel terrible afterward.
This is not to say that I want to remain stationary on my couch until the end of days. If somebody wanted to go on a hike, I'd go with them. If somebody wanted to play frisbee, I'd play with them. If somebody wanted to go running, I'd remain stationary on my couch. I hate running. Running is awful.
And yet ...
Today I went running. Turns out that running is the only exercise I can get without driving someplace and/or meeting a bunch of new people. I can open my door and run down the block until my lungs threaten to fall out, then I can walk back. Doing anything else takes too long. Running takes 13 minutes of running and 17 minutes of walking back.
If I had a membership to Baly's Total Fitness, I might go there and use their various workout equipment. It's walkable. Unfortunately health club memberships cost roughly a trillion dollars a month.
So alas, the only thing I can think of that will get my out from under my genetic gut of Damocles is running. If anybody has any special techniques that avoid the burning in my chest, the faint taste of blood, shoulder cramps, and the resulting woosey feeling that I suppose is my bad-trip version of a runner's high, then please let me know. I'd love my love handles to go away, but I don't want my cardiovascular system to leave with them.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Constellation Under My Chin
I've decided to try shaving with a razor again. For years now I've been shaving with an electric razor, and it's been fine. But the blade has been getting dull for longer than I've lived in San Francisco, and I thought I'd give manual razoring another go.
I shaved this morning, and didn't cut myself at all. However, when I got home it looked as though I was about to spout cat whiskers, and my chin had little hair oases all over it. So I reshaved just now and managed to create 19 tiny cuts under my chin and on my upper lip.
So far I'm leaning toward old buzzy.
I've decided to try shaving with a razor again. For years now I've been shaving with an electric razor, and it's been fine. But the blade has been getting dull for longer than I've lived in San Francisco, and I thought I'd give manual razoring another go.
I shaved this morning, and didn't cut myself at all. However, when I got home it looked as though I was about to spout cat whiskers, and my chin had little hair oases all over it. So I reshaved just now and managed to create 19 tiny cuts under my chin and on my upper lip.
So far I'm leaning toward old buzzy.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
MySpace
Ah MySpace. What a pain. It's annoying that's so useful.
I greatly dislike when my email lets me know I have a message and friend request waiting for me at MySpace, but when I get there it turns out to be some hip hop group who would really like me to give their songs a whirl. Carlos, of BigSexy Ent for instance. No Carlos, no matter how big or sexy you may be, I do not want to be your friend nor attend any of your promotional events.
There's also a fair bit of porn spam on MySpace. If I get a friend request from a girl who is kind of mediumly attractive, I click on it to see who she might be. If I get a friend request from a girl who's the hottest thing since building hospital beds in the sunshine, I delete it because I don't need other peoples porn foisted on me when I'm not expecting it.
All this with the added benefit of being the slowest site on the interweb, you'd think nobody would visit. But alas, it has its uses. What do you do, for instance, if you meet somebody at a party but mistakenly come away with the impression that she is a lesbian? You look her up on MySpace, that's what.
If only I wasn't such a social Olympian*, I'd see if she wanted to get some coffee or something**.
*Olympian of the special variety.
**Something being any of the fantastic Ideas in the comments of the last post. Well, fantastic apart from the Joo's.
Ah MySpace. What a pain. It's annoying that's so useful.
I greatly dislike when my email lets me know I have a message and friend request waiting for me at MySpace, but when I get there it turns out to be some hip hop group who would really like me to give their songs a whirl. Carlos, of BigSexy Ent for instance. No Carlos, no matter how big or sexy you may be, I do not want to be your friend nor attend any of your promotional events.
There's also a fair bit of porn spam on MySpace. If I get a friend request from a girl who is kind of mediumly attractive, I click on it to see who she might be. If I get a friend request from a girl who's the hottest thing since building hospital beds in the sunshine, I delete it because I don't need other peoples porn foisted on me when I'm not expecting it.
All this with the added benefit of being the slowest site on the interweb, you'd think nobody would visit. But alas, it has its uses. What do you do, for instance, if you meet somebody at a party but mistakenly come away with the impression that she is a lesbian? You look her up on MySpace, that's what.
If only I wasn't such a social Olympian*, I'd see if she wanted to get some coffee or something**.
*Olympian of the special variety.
**Something being any of the fantastic Ideas in the comments of the last post. Well, fantastic apart from the Joo's.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Ideas
OK people. I know it's been a while, and I hate to ask you for things when I've been such a bad poster, but I beseech you: I need second date ideas.
Things to keep in mind:
-I'm not overflowing with wealth. Reasonably nice meals are a go, but renting helicopters is out.
-I don't drink. So while going for drinks might work in theory, it might be creepy for me to hand her a Jack and Coke while I sip my Shirley Temple.
-A date which stimulates conversation, or requires some non-talking time would be great. I'm not so good at keeping the conversation flow going until I get to know somebody better.
And ... brainstorm!
OK people. I know it's been a while, and I hate to ask you for things when I've been such a bad poster, but I beseech you: I need second date ideas.
Things to keep in mind:
-I'm not overflowing with wealth. Reasonably nice meals are a go, but renting helicopters is out.
-I don't drink. So while going for drinks might work in theory, it might be creepy for me to hand her a Jack and Coke while I sip my Shirley Temple.
-A date which stimulates conversation, or requires some non-talking time would be great. I'm not so good at keeping the conversation flow going until I get to know somebody better.
And ... brainstorm!
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Snickers Chords
You never know what's going to get a big response. Figuring out the Snickers song seems to be a shared experience though. So here's the chords, at least as close as I'm willing to make them. If anyone has any suggestions, let me know.
This is pretty close:
As near as I can tell it's kind of a walk down from G to Em. I'll make
up a name for the middle chord and tab it out. Say G/F#.
G/F#
e-3
B-3
G-0
D-0
A-X
E-2
G-------------------G/F#
Happy peanuts soar
-------C---------------------D
Over chocolate covered mountaintops
------G---------------G/F#-C
And waterfalls of caramel
-------------G-----------------G/F#
Prancing nougat in the meadow
-----------C--------------D
Sings a song of satisfaction
---------G
To the world
You never know what's going to get a big response. Figuring out the Snickers song seems to be a shared experience though. So here's the chords, at least as close as I'm willing to make them. If anyone has any suggestions, let me know.
This is pretty close:
As near as I can tell it's kind of a walk down from G to Em. I'll make
up a name for the middle chord and tab it out. Say G/F#.
G/F#
e-3
B-3
G-0
D-0
A-X
E-2
G-------------------G/F#
Happy peanuts soar
-------C---------------------D
Over chocolate covered mountaintops
------G---------------G/F#-C
And waterfalls of caramel
-------------G-----------------G/F#
Prancing nougat in the meadow
-----------C--------------D
Sings a song of satisfaction
---------G
To the world
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
A Good Reason to Lose Sleep?
Probably not, but when the urge comes I can't deny it.
The snickers commercial came on where a guy in a carpet store is sitting at his desk about to eat a snickers when another guys comes up and says, "let me help you enjoy that snickers." Guy #2 then pulls out a guitar and sings the following:
Happy peanuts soar
Over chocolate covered mountaintops
And waterfalls of caramel
Prancing nougat* in the meadow
Sings a song of satisfaction
To the world
And they harmonize "To the world." Then guy #1, obviously touched by the song looks at his snickers bar and whispers, "The world!" As the scene fades to black guy #2 pats guy #1 on the shoulder and says, "That's right."
Well, that commercial came on and I had to spend 10 minutes writing down the lyrics and figuring out the chords. I did, and now I can go to bed satisfied, as it were.
Probably not, but when the urge comes I can't deny it.
The snickers commercial came on where a guy in a carpet store is sitting at his desk about to eat a snickers when another guys comes up and says, "let me help you enjoy that snickers." Guy #2 then pulls out a guitar and sings the following:
Happy peanuts soar
Over chocolate covered mountaintops
And waterfalls of caramel
Prancing nougat* in the meadow
Sings a song of satisfaction
To the world
And they harmonize "To the world." Then guy #1, obviously touched by the song looks at his snickers bar and whispers, "The world!" As the scene fades to black guy #2 pats guy #1 on the shoulder and says, "That's right."
Well, that commercial came on and I had to spend 10 minutes writing down the lyrics and figuring out the chords. I did, and now I can go to bed satisfied, as it were.
Monday, July 17, 2006
Monday, Stupid Monday
I had a hard time functioning today, and I have no idea why.
-I took 20 minutes to fax 25 pages of paperwork to corporate, and when it was finished corporate called me and told me I'd faxed them the back of 25 pages. When I faxed it again the fax machine told me I'd sent 26 pages. Better extra than not enough I guess.
-The email was screwed up so my Gmail dispatching system wasn't keeping up. I hate when email doesn't work. Customer service kept asking if I was ignoring them. Yes, all of a sudden I've decided to ignore you. That makes a lot of sense.
-I tried to give a little demonstration of a new product to a customer and couldn't make it work. I'd press the power button and some random lights would flash, then it would turn itself off. Power, nothing. Power, beep, nothing. I walked away to check the plug and it turned itself on and started behaving. Fine, give your own demonstration Alternating Wheelchair Cushion!
I think this was all caused by the successful baking of a loaf of banana bread. I even improvised a little in the cooking time, shelf placement, and the addition of an extra banana. I didn't burn it AND it tastes good. I should put bananas in the bottom of my shopping basket more often.
Anyway, the banana bread used up my all smooth-week karma on Sunday. It may be a long week. But a long week full of short days. I need to get caught up on my email, but when you get up at 5am, get home at 6pm or even later, and go to bed at 9pm, that leaves very little time for writing email. Or doing much of anything. I'm looking forward to both the end of radiation and next week when I get a week off from being my own supervisor. It takes a lot of work to keep track of myself, to say nothing of everybody else in my depot.
I had a hard time functioning today, and I have no idea why.
-I took 20 minutes to fax 25 pages of paperwork to corporate, and when it was finished corporate called me and told me I'd faxed them the back of 25 pages. When I faxed it again the fax machine told me I'd sent 26 pages. Better extra than not enough I guess.
-The email was screwed up so my Gmail dispatching system wasn't keeping up. I hate when email doesn't work. Customer service kept asking if I was ignoring them. Yes, all of a sudden I've decided to ignore you. That makes a lot of sense.
-I tried to give a little demonstration of a new product to a customer and couldn't make it work. I'd press the power button and some random lights would flash, then it would turn itself off. Power, nothing. Power, beep, nothing. I walked away to check the plug and it turned itself on and started behaving. Fine, give your own demonstration Alternating Wheelchair Cushion!
I think this was all caused by the successful baking of a loaf of banana bread. I even improvised a little in the cooking time, shelf placement, and the addition of an extra banana. I didn't burn it AND it tastes good. I should put bananas in the bottom of my shopping basket more often.
Anyway, the banana bread used up my all smooth-week karma on Sunday. It may be a long week. But a long week full of short days. I need to get caught up on my email, but when you get up at 5am, get home at 6pm or even later, and go to bed at 9pm, that leaves very little time for writing email. Or doing much of anything. I'm looking forward to both the end of radiation and next week when I get a week off from being my own supervisor. It takes a lot of work to keep track of myself, to say nothing of everybody else in my depot.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
The Glow of my Belly Button
As it turns out, I'm not a big fan of this radiation thing. I have a map of California drawn on to my tummy in permanent marker and I get to feel nauseated all day.
Surgery I can handle. You hurt, and day by day you hurt less until you're fine. But radiation makes you feel progressively worse until you're done. Suhweeet! This is day 2 and I'm already losing my cookies.
My anti-barf pills help a lot. So I'm hoping that my nausea won't get too much worse as I work my way through days 3 through 15. You know what doesn't help? Watching the Dirty Jobs episode featuring Mike Rowe's tour of a skull cleaning business.
Also, taking a bite of spicy processed cheese when I was expecting a bite of pepper jack cheese was just another in a long list of whammies today. Hooray for bed time. (7?! Yes. 7.)
As it turns out, I'm not a big fan of this radiation thing. I have a map of California drawn on to my tummy in permanent marker and I get to feel nauseated all day.
Surgery I can handle. You hurt, and day by day you hurt less until you're fine. But radiation makes you feel progressively worse until you're done. Suhweeet! This is day 2 and I'm already losing my cookies.
My anti-barf pills help a lot. So I'm hoping that my nausea won't get too much worse as I work my way through days 3 through 15. You know what doesn't help? Watching the Dirty Jobs episode featuring Mike Rowe's tour of a skull cleaning business.
Also, taking a bite of spicy processed cheese when I was expecting a bite of pepper jack cheese was just another in a long list of whammies today. Hooray for bed time. (7?! Yes. 7.)
Monday, July 10, 2006
Dawn's Fissure
Tomorrow's my big day. I get to be radiated for the first time. And the best part of the whole deal is that my appointments, Monday through Friday for the next 3 weeks, are at 6:45am. This makes it early enough so I won't miss work, but late enough so I have to get ready for work before I go. Hello 5am.
I haven't visited 5am much recently, but I'm pretty sure any time pre the already ugly 6am is not my friend.
This weekend I went to a wedding which was almost entirely a good time. The single part that wasn't was when a guy at my table came over for what I thought was a friendly conversation. We talked about U.C. Davis, jobs, and post-school debt. I guess we both managed to not really have any after college, but he related that after he got married he and his wife found their way into the red. His plan was to be all paid off in 5 years. They planned to do this, he explained, through he and his wife's business.
Me: What kind of business do you run?
Him: I'm an internet franchise owner.
Me: What does the franchise do?
Him: Sets up online communities.
Me: So how do you make money?
Him: Well, most people spend half their budget on advertising, and we don't have to. So we've doubled our money right there.
Me: Well, that's money you don't have to spend, but how does the money come in?
Him: We sell the rights to set up online communities.
Ah. So it's a pyramid scheme. He then went on to explain the he and his wife had just met with the guy who founded the company. Apparently this guy has 9 Corvettes and earns 90K a month in passive income. And through the seminars that this guy puts on he and his wife plan to retire in 3 years. And didn't that sound good to me?
No.
I'm not sure he's going to do well in the pyramid scheme of things. You can't go around telling people that you plan to get out of debt in 5 years and retire in 3. I'm pretty sure that retiring while you're still in debt makes it both hard to retire and hard to get out of debt.
Also, who wants 9 Corvettes? How about spending some of your passive income on a little variety?
Tomorrow's my big day. I get to be radiated for the first time. And the best part of the whole deal is that my appointments, Monday through Friday for the next 3 weeks, are at 6:45am. This makes it early enough so I won't miss work, but late enough so I have to get ready for work before I go. Hello 5am.
I haven't visited 5am much recently, but I'm pretty sure any time pre the already ugly 6am is not my friend.
This weekend I went to a wedding which was almost entirely a good time. The single part that wasn't was when a guy at my table came over for what I thought was a friendly conversation. We talked about U.C. Davis, jobs, and post-school debt. I guess we both managed to not really have any after college, but he related that after he got married he and his wife found their way into the red. His plan was to be all paid off in 5 years. They planned to do this, he explained, through he and his wife's business.
Me: What kind of business do you run?
Him: I'm an internet franchise owner.
Me: What does the franchise do?
Him: Sets up online communities.
Me: So how do you make money?
Him: Well, most people spend half their budget on advertising, and we don't have to. So we've doubled our money right there.
Me: Well, that's money you don't have to spend, but how does the money come in?
Him: We sell the rights to set up online communities.
Ah. So it's a pyramid scheme. He then went on to explain the he and his wife had just met with the guy who founded the company. Apparently this guy has 9 Corvettes and earns 90K a month in passive income. And through the seminars that this guy puts on he and his wife plan to retire in 3 years. And didn't that sound good to me?
No.
I'm not sure he's going to do well in the pyramid scheme of things. You can't go around telling people that you plan to get out of debt in 5 years and retire in 3. I'm pretty sure that retiring while you're still in debt makes it both hard to retire and hard to get out of debt.
Also, who wants 9 Corvettes? How about spending some of your passive income on a little variety?
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Pub Quiz Update
Amos came to visit this weekend/week and so the old pub quiz team was in full force on Wednesday. Our team name was So Tiramisu Me, but there were so few teams that the best team name category didn't happen. It didn't matter, however, because we won. Go us!
I don't know how it came up, but we were talking about how Aer Lingus is a bad name for an airline. As badly named as it is, a great safety-oriented slogan comes to mind: Aer Lingus - We won't go down on you.
Amos came to visit this weekend/week and so the old pub quiz team was in full force on Wednesday. Our team name was So Tiramisu Me, but there were so few teams that the best team name category didn't happen. It didn't matter, however, because we won. Go us!
I don't know how it came up, but we were talking about how Aer Lingus is a bad name for an airline. As badly named as it is, a great safety-oriented slogan comes to mind: Aer Lingus - We won't go down on you.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Potpourri
(As opposed to Potent Potables)
I know it's been too long since I've posted when blogger forgets who I am. If only my life were more exciting, or entertaining, or something. I think I need another pet to drive me nuts.
We have this patient at work that drives us nuts. Actually, the patient is very nice; it's her daughter that drives us nuts. She (the daughter) has tried every single one of our mattresses and deemed them unacceptable. And yet she demands we give her something else. It's not like we're holding out on her. It would behoove use to make her happy so she would go away.
The most exasperating part of the whole thing is that each time we give her another mattress to try she calls us up with some phantom problem that she wants me, and me only, to come over and investigate. And no, it's not because she likes me or anything. It's just I'm the only person who will take the time to crap out answers to her ridiculous questions.
And all her supposed problems with the mattress are things that I can neither see happen at the time, nor recreate later. She might as well call me up and ask me if I can get the aliens to stop giving her visions of the mother ship. Or if I can please do something about the kitchen elves stealing her pasta. No. I can't. Because these problems aren't real.
And now she's demanding a mattress that I know she'll hate. In fact she's already tried it and hated it and she's demanding it anyhow.
With a startling lack of transition, I don't think I'm cut out for this online dating thing. I don't know if my emails come on too strong, or not strong enough, or if I'm perhaps boring potential girlfriends to pieces. Whatever the issue may be, the result is that after an email or two they all disappear. In fact, the less I write the longer the correspondence will last. The only time I can get to the point of an actual first date is if I'm ambivalent about writing back in the first place. If I put in just the bare minimum effort so that I can come across as polite, I'm almost guaranteed a coffee date, which will go badly. I need to find a different method.
There needs to be some sort of monkdom that involves tinkering and does not involve religion.
(As opposed to Potent Potables)
I know it's been too long since I've posted when blogger forgets who I am. If only my life were more exciting, or entertaining, or something. I think I need another pet to drive me nuts.
We have this patient at work that drives us nuts. Actually, the patient is very nice; it's her daughter that drives us nuts. She (the daughter) has tried every single one of our mattresses and deemed them unacceptable. And yet she demands we give her something else. It's not like we're holding out on her. It would behoove use to make her happy so she would go away.
The most exasperating part of the whole thing is that each time we give her another mattress to try she calls us up with some phantom problem that she wants me, and me only, to come over and investigate. And no, it's not because she likes me or anything. It's just I'm the only person who will take the time to crap out answers to her ridiculous questions.
And all her supposed problems with the mattress are things that I can neither see happen at the time, nor recreate later. She might as well call me up and ask me if I can get the aliens to stop giving her visions of the mother ship. Or if I can please do something about the kitchen elves stealing her pasta. No. I can't. Because these problems aren't real.
And now she's demanding a mattress that I know she'll hate. In fact she's already tried it and hated it and she's demanding it anyhow.
With a startling lack of transition, I don't think I'm cut out for this online dating thing. I don't know if my emails come on too strong, or not strong enough, or if I'm perhaps boring potential girlfriends to pieces. Whatever the issue may be, the result is that after an email or two they all disappear. In fact, the less I write the longer the correspondence will last. The only time I can get to the point of an actual first date is if I'm ambivalent about writing back in the first place. If I put in just the bare minimum effort so that I can come across as polite, I'm almost guaranteed a coffee date, which will go badly. I need to find a different method.
There needs to be some sort of monkdom that involves tinkering and does not involve religion.
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