Ma Bell, Pa Jobs

I’m in love. I was already in love, but I had no idea it could be like this. I’m also a procrastinator. So falling in love with my newly-activated iPhone 4S is downright dangerous. I’ve been happily using a 3Gs for over two years, but she was becoming a little sluggish. She’d lag as I bounced from Words With Friends to texting to Hanging With Friends to Facebook. I’d find my brain working a few steps ahead and figured that couldn’t be a good sign for the phone’s processing speed. I lamented my inability to zoom in and obtain clear photos. I found a disgusting layer of oil on the back of the phone, underneath the rubber Otter Box protective covering.

That wasn’t really the phone’s fault.

And now I have this beauty in my hands. She’s crystal clear and super-fast and…

I’m wasting a tremendous amount of time on her! I activated the phone last night and stayed up well past my bedtime. This morning I discovered the snooze function on the alarm worked very well and proceeded to hit it every 9 minutes for two hours. Then I got lost in absolutely nothing interesting for a few more hours – some while sitting on my toilet seat, which resulted in two numb legs and a deep ring impression on my fat ass – and had to force myself to

put.
the.
phone.
down.

in order to shower and finally get to work. Thank goodness I’ll be in the lab the rest of the day and will have her tucked away safely in a drawer.

I hope she’ll be ok in there. It’s so dark and cold.

Sweet dreams, little [blank].

I need a name for her. My first iPhone was named Mildred; Millie for short. I thought about Millie 2, which made me then consider Audrey 2, from Little Shop of Horrors. But naming my beloved new toy after a man-eating plant seems ill-advised.

Any suggestions?

In the meantime…

If you recall, I mentioned yesterday that one of my coworkers is Scott Adams, the author of the comic strip, Dilbert.

It appears one of my dear readers may be the author of one of my fave strips, Pearls Before Swine. The evidence:

A Soupcon of Soup's On

I heart when the blogs write themselves. Especially during NaBloPoMo. What I heart even more is when one of my friends writes the blog for me!

Hold that thought…

Some of us at work are convinced that Scott Adams is in fact one of our coworkers. If you remember, I told you yesterday that the Big Bosses are Big Brothering our internet access – basically, they’re keeping track of who’s online, what sites we’re visiting, and how long we’re online. After announcing this new activity, they then said in the same breath that we should enjoy increased internet speeds thanks to the reduced traffic.

Irony, thy name is IT.

Scott Adams, thy name is coworker:



Back to my friend-induced blog post…

Bert emailed me a few weeks back to announce the arrival of fire, wine, and soup season in New Jersey and to alert me to a certain opera singer’s voice being used in a Bertolli commercial. The commercial can be seen here:

Bertolli Soup Opera

My affinity for one of the singers can be explained here:

The Opera Singer

Be sure to read the comments afterwards for one of life’s happy little coincidences.

And now, we’re done with NaBloPoMo Day 2. Thanks, Bert!

To be continued…

And Then...

Huzzah!! Happy NaBloPoMo Day, my friends!!

That’s all I’ve got.

And you know what? It counts. :)

For those of you not in the know, today is not only the first day of November and All Saint’s Day (shouldn’t that be All Saints’ Day?!); it’s also the first day of National Blog Posting Month, better known as the questionably-catchy, “NaBloPoMo.”

The goal of NaBloPoMo is to post a blog entry every day in November. Seems easy enough, yes? I can tell you from experience that it’s a little more nerve-racking than one would think. I have an alarm set on my Outlook calendar to remind me to write every day. I have an alarm set in my phone to remind me to write every day. What I don’t have is an endless list of interesting topics to write about. And now thanks to a Big Brother move at work, I can’t surf the internet looking for ideas. I can’t find cute/funny/disturbing pics and/or videos to help support my ramblings. I have to fit this exercise into my free time when I already have trouble working exercise into my free time…

So why do it, you ask? Because I might win a prize!! Yes, it’s true. The folks that started this nonsense scan the participants’ blogs to see if they’ve written every day and then throw the names into a virtual hat and some lucky bloggers are selected to win prizes. Of no significance. I’m pretty sure someone won a spider ring last year.

So why do it, you ask?

I don’t rightly know. Writely know?

Well that’s enough of that. And really, I could stop right now. Write now.

But I shan’t.

You can’t make me. All you can do is stop reading.

Guess it’s just me and Bert now….

So Bert, I took The Girlfriend up to DC to see Sting this past Saturday. I know!

But first we had to run a 10K that I was ill-prepared for. And then we had to skip the beers and chili we so rightfully (writefully? Please make it stop.) deserved after the race because we were pressed for time. And then we had to get caught in a frigid torrential downpour as we walked over a mile back to our car. And then just when the car was packed up and we were ready to go, we had to discover that my dear old dog SH*T THE SH*T OF ALL SH*TS on the front passenger seat of my car (!!!) and I had to clean it up fast enough so that Girlfriend wouldn’t back out of the trip. And then we had to pull a U-turn on a one way street and travel the wrong way down the one way street into a major intersection in order to avoid a lake that had formed across the one way street. And then we had to drive out to West Bumblef*ck to drop off the pooping machine at the home of the two kindest people on the planet who agreed to watch her so I could take Girlfriend up to see STING in DC! And then we had to hurry ourselves to DC in the middle of an October snowstorm. And then we had to sit in separate seats on opposite sides of the theater because the concert sold out in 30 seconds and yours truly could only find individual seats, but wanted Girlfriend to see one of her favorite singers so much that sitting separately seemed like a small price to pay. And then I had to beg and plead with an usher to let me sit with Girlfriend when the single seats on either side of her remained empty after the show started. And then I shuffled back to my seat to watch the concert alone and to beg the Asian woman sitting two seats over who was devastated that Girlfriend and I couldn’t sit together to PLEASE get up off the floor and return to her seat and that Yes, I realize if you sit on the steps there’s room for Girlfriend in your seat and that's unbelievably kind of you, but the usher won’t let her up here without a ticket!! And no, thank you, I don’t want any trail mix right now… And then I was finally able to sneak up to Girlfriend’s seat and see how happy she was and we were finally able to hold hands and watch The Sting for a couple songs. And then we stopped by the White House which was temporarily orange to say Hi to the Prez and I almost lost Girlfriend to the Occupy DC tent city. And then we hiked a mile-and-a-half in the freezing cold up to the Shake Shack and stumbled upon what looked like a mob of hungry hamburger eaters but was really a huge Halloween celebration outside the Shake Shack. And then we ate our delicious organic beef cheeseburgers and drank our divine chocolate shakes and then we hopped in a cab back to our hotel.

And then my head hit the pillow and I looked at Girlfriend and I thought about how very thankful I was and how this was the best day and the best trip I had ever been on. And since I had been on all the other trips I had gone on and they weren’t all that wonderful (please see Rome If You Want To, Rome Around the World), the only new variable I could identify was Girlfriend.

And then I smiled.

And then I probably snored.

Until tomorrow, Bert.

You're Once, Twice, Three Times a Random

Random 1:

I wonder where he stands on gravity and the earth being round... Ladies and gentlemen, Governor Rick Perry in Parade magazine:

"Q. Governor, do you believe that President Barack Obama was born in the United States?

A. I have no reason to think otherwise.

Q. That’s not a definitive, “Yes, I believe he”—

A. Well, I don’t have a definitive answer, because he’s never seen my birth certificate.

Q. But you’ve seen his.

A. I don’t know. Have I?

Q. You don’t believe what’s been released?

A. I don’t know. I had dinner with Donald Trump the other night.

Q. And?

A. That came up.

Q. And he said?

A. He doesn’t think it’s real.

Q. And you said?

A. I don’t have any idea. It doesn’t matter. He’s the president of the United States. He’s elected. It’s a distractive issue."

You had dinner with Donald Trump -- and I presume, his HAIR -- and you find the "debate" over the existence of President Obama's birth certificate a distraction?!

Do you think Trump just stared dreamily at Perry's perfect pate all through dinner? "I used to be the richest man alive and still I was unhappy. Why, oh why, can't I have hair like that?!"

Random 2:

For my Westie friend, Michele:


McDonald's McRubber Sandwich (McRib to some) has returned for a limited time. Get yours through November 14th. Not available at all locations. GACK.

Random 3:

Lars Ulrich of Metallica admits in the October 24th Newsweek that his biggest mistake was saying, "No." to Quentin Tarantino's request to choreograph his "Kill Bill" fight scenes to Metallica songs, including "Enter Sandman."

DUDE.

My best friend, Lauren, did that back in the early 90s to snippets of "violent" Saturday morning cartoons. All perfectly edited and timed. DAH dah dah dah DAH dah DAH dah dah dah dah dahhhhh. It was brilliant. I think of it whenever I hear "Enter Sandman." Laur, you should call Quentin and see if you can give him some ideas. :)

Off to never never land...
HWAH!!

Boo!

"Actor Patrick Swayze's wax figure is unveiled at Madame Tussauds in Hollywood, Calif., on Tuesday, Oct. 18."

He haunts me still.......

When It's Time to Change

You've got to rearrange...who you are and what your blog looks like!

Shalalalalalalalala...shalalalala!

Of the 12 website choices on my browser's pull down menu, my blog wasn't one of them. You know what that means... I'm a total blogging slackass!

As usual, there's been mucho mucho stuffo going on, but I haven't felt compelled to share it with y'all. I know, I feel bad about that. But I've got to keep some things private, for various reasons. Anyone who knows my penchant for posting my every move on faceboook will find this statement somewhat startling. :)

But for you particularly curious folks, I'm a pretty happy camper. Just floating the usual mundane questions of who am I, why am I here, what's my passion, what will make me leap out of bed in the morning, how do I make a living doing something I love, just what IS that thing on my yellow shirt, and why are even the easiest relationships so difficult at times?

These seem like Magic 8 Ball questions, don't they?

ANSWER HAZY. TRY AGAIN LATER.

I hope you're all happy and healthy. If you've become wealthy and wise, I'd gladly take a little of both, if you're sharing.

To be continued, my dear friends.................

November Rain

Psst. November's coming. NaBloPoMo beckons. :)

Chemistry Sets: Now Without Chemicals!

Oh, this is great! Thanks to Sara I. for passing it along:

Cyanide, Uranium, and Ammonium Nitrate: When Kids Really Had Fun With Science


I actually built the Visible Man and Visible Woman models in the early 80s and did a facial reconstruction of an Indian woman -- only mine was made of modeling clay and a real human skull. You kids enjoy your plastic version!

Comedy of Potentially Fatal Errors

So we had an opportunity to kill my boss today…

I have to write this quickly and get it out there in case he winds up having a serious medical problem and then I’d feel guilty about it. Oh, I’d probably still think it, I just might be less likely to advertise it on my blog and post it on Facebook. Less likely, mind you, not completely opposed to it…

Polly and I did our civic duty earlier and celebrated National Grilled Cheese Sandwich Day over lunch. [Everyone, say “Hi!” to Polly. She’s new here. :) ] Apparently, while the Angel of Death was at lunch, her boss was staggering from our lunch room to one of the offices saying he was lightheaded. Although a former EMT and several first aid team members were present, our safety officer felt it necessary to issue the bat signal and have the entire safety team respond. Perhaps she thought this was a good time for a drill…

Boss was lowered to the floor, his feet were raised, and he recovered in record time. Now, being a beyond-middle-aged man who subsists mainly on fatty meat and carbohydrates, is perpetually stressed, and has gained half his body weight in the last few years, one might think he should seek medical attention. I was told when I returned from lunch that his blood sugar may have been low, which seems impossible to me since his diet is 95% sugar. Anyway, he took this diagnosis and trotted into the break room to retrieve his lunch from the microwave -- a steak.

Yes, you read that correctly.

He then got in touch with his doctor who advised he get himself to the closest ER. Which just so happens to be right across the street. Great! I was told he went over to the ER. Mind you, he just sucked down a steak before being examined (I'm assuming) for a possible heart attack...

Shortly thereafter, there was a flurry of activity as several of my coworkers departed to join him. What I later found out is that he began feeling lightheaded again as he CLIMBED THE STAIRS OF THE OVERPASS between our building and the hospital and that’s why they went out to assist him. In one of many brilliant decisions regarding this incident, he was then given a ride not across the street to the ER, but 30 miles away to another hospital. The woman driving him has depth perception issues and has also been known to fall asleep behind the wheel of her car. If he should actually make it to the hospital alive, he will then be retrieved – and driven home -- by his wife, who many of us were under the impression is legally blind.

I maintain that he is committing assisted suicide – just very, very slowly.

I'm Not Thinking Bad Thoughts!

A friend of mine is having a wackadoodle week and thinks she should be busting out the single-finger salute more often in an effort to reduce some stress. She mentioned something about it being inappropriate and I said it was okay, as long as she wasn't thinking bad thoughts when she did it.

You didn't know that, did you?

Yup, my parents taught me when I was a kid that it was okay to hold your middle finger up as long as you weren't thinking bad thoughts.

Uh huh.

I'm pretty sure I caught one of my parents or their friends giving someone the finger, knew it was a bad thing to do -- though didn't know why -- and they explained it away with the above. Seemed to make sense to me at the time. Oh, the poor fools who didn't know!

Imagine my confidence in my parochial school lunchroom in 3rd grade as I waved my middle finger at my classmates and declared to their horrified faces that it was okay because, "I'm not thinking bad thoughts!" The kids didn't seem to agree with this interpretation, nor did my teachers. Unenlightened lemmings!

So the next time someone flips you off, why don't you give them a friendly wave in response? And be sure to yell out to them, "It's okay! I know you're not thinking bad thoughts!" And if they raise their other middle finger to you as well, be sure to forgive them again. Hopefully by then they'll think you're insane and just leave you alone. :)