I'm tempted to post Bert's comment on yesterday's blog as today's blog entry. I'm sleepy! Instead of hitting the sack early last night, I stayed up watching this week's installment of The Real Housewives of Orange County. Yes, quality television at its finest...
Macy's came up in conversation at work today and it reminded me of an old story.
There was a store named Bamberger's (which was owned by Macy's) in the town next to my home town when I was a kid. I spent virtually ever Saturday of my youth being dragged in and out of various department stores by my mother and grandmother. As an only child, I had to come up with ways to keep myself occupied while they shopped. For you younger readers, there was a time in the far distant past when parents didn't automatically shove toys, handheld video games, and/or food into the hands of children as soon as they entered a store.
I used to climb in and around the racks of clothes at Bam's while Mom shopped. During one particular trip, I was chillin' in the center of a circular rack of clothes and heard some yelling. I popped my head out between the clothes to see what was going on. There was a police officer about two feet away and he was yelling at a girl who had just shoplifted. She was screaming at him and he was trying to arrest her and next thing I know, he took the billy-club in his hand, swung back, and BAM! I got whacked in the eye.
He had no idea I was in the clothes rack and that he had hit me. My mother eventually heard my pathetic whimpering and tracked me down. I remember her bringing me up to the main office to tell them what had happened and don't really remember anyone giving a damn. Of course, it was probably the most ridiculous story they had ever heard and I'm sure they weren't entirely certain what sort of resolution my mother hoped to achieve.
I probably should have talked to my mom about this story before attempting to write it. I really don't remember what happened next. The last time I had my eyes checked (about two years ago) I was told I have "sniper vision," so I guess everything worked out okay.
And now kids get food and games and whatever their little hearts desire while their parents shop. Coincidence?
If I've helped just one person........ :)
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Round and Round
Everyone who was awakened at 2:30 this morning to the sound of rats chewing things in their attic, please raise your hands.
What, I can't be the ONLY one!
Yeahhhhhhhhhhhh. What a great night's sleep! When they chew loud enough to wake you from the dead of sleep, life is GOOD. I got up several times over the next hour or so to smack the ceiling with a broom handle. It seemed to quiet him/them down for a few minutes and then they'd start right up again. Lord only knows what they were chewing. At one point it sounded like they were moving furniture up there. Some friends posited that they might be rehearsing a musical production...
So it was another fun-filled day. Took the pooch to the vet to have some new growths checked out (if you're a new reader, I accidentally gave my dog cancer last year and now have to feel her up pretty regularly looking for new growths. This is as advanced as veterinary medicine has gotten in cancer detection). Good news for the day is that one tumor is a fatty deposit and the other is an infected sweat gland that may or may not get worse and need removal. But no nasty malignant tumors. Whew!
While I was at the vet, Rat Boy (the exterminator) was at my house installing rat bait stations. This confused me thoroughly because I thought we were putting them in the attic, under the house, and in the garage. Two of those locations would have required my presence. No, no, silly me. The bait stations are OUTSIDE. Not helping my dog + poison = horrific death paranoia. But after a sleepless night listening to the dulcet tones of the Ratatouille choir, I bit the bullet and went with the bait. And boy, did I ever. When I got home, Rat Boy went up to the attic and just started flinging blocks of rat poison around. Now I know there's no way the dog will come in direct contact with the poison, I'm just concerned the rats aren't the neatest eaters in the world and will dribble bits of poison out in the yard -- where Bodhi can often be found eating grass in an effort to stave off fits of puking...
Anyway, Rat Boy was also going to put up something to cover two big honkin' open window/vent/thingies at each end of the attic. Not surprisingly, his company was going to charge too much to do it, but I wasn't really dying to do it myself. Have I mentioned the attic isn't finished? I also discovered a gas exhaust pipe had broken apart and was unsure if it needed to be fixed by someone who knew what he was doing (as opposed to me). So I called Vagina Man.
Still with me?
How Vagina Man earned his name is a pretty amusing story, but you'll have to wait for another day, my friends.
Vagina Man came over, fixed the pipe, and advised me on what to get to close off the open windows. Fortunately, he hung around long enough to sense how pitiful I am and asked if I wanted him to just do it. Bingo! So off he went to Home Depot and within an hour everything was all better. There is now -- hopefully -- no way for the rats to get in the attic.
But you know what that means, right?
If there were some rats upstairs while the attic was being sealed off, THEY'RE UP THERE RIGHT NOW AND CAN'T GET OUT.
And guess what I'm hearing?
Welcome to Norfolkville Horror. If I emerge from my house with shocking white hair tomorrow, please direct my psych unit doctors to this blog before they make their final diagnosis.
Sweet dreams everyone.
What, I can't be the ONLY one!
Yeahhhhhhhhhhhh. What a great night's sleep! When they chew loud enough to wake you from the dead of sleep, life is GOOD. I got up several times over the next hour or so to smack the ceiling with a broom handle. It seemed to quiet him/them down for a few minutes and then they'd start right up again. Lord only knows what they were chewing. At one point it sounded like they were moving furniture up there. Some friends posited that they might be rehearsing a musical production...
So it was another fun-filled day. Took the pooch to the vet to have some new growths checked out (if you're a new reader, I accidentally gave my dog cancer last year and now have to feel her up pretty regularly looking for new growths. This is as advanced as veterinary medicine has gotten in cancer detection). Good news for the day is that one tumor is a fatty deposit and the other is an infected sweat gland that may or may not get worse and need removal. But no nasty malignant tumors. Whew!
While I was at the vet, Rat Boy (the exterminator) was at my house installing rat bait stations. This confused me thoroughly because I thought we were putting them in the attic, under the house, and in the garage. Two of those locations would have required my presence. No, no, silly me. The bait stations are OUTSIDE. Not helping my dog + poison = horrific death paranoia. But after a sleepless night listening to the dulcet tones of the Ratatouille choir, I bit the bullet and went with the bait. And boy, did I ever. When I got home, Rat Boy went up to the attic and just started flinging blocks of rat poison around. Now I know there's no way the dog will come in direct contact with the poison, I'm just concerned the rats aren't the neatest eaters in the world and will dribble bits of poison out in the yard -- where Bodhi can often be found eating grass in an effort to stave off fits of puking...
Anyway, Rat Boy was also going to put up something to cover two big honkin' open window/vent/thingies at each end of the attic. Not surprisingly, his company was going to charge too much to do it, but I wasn't really dying to do it myself. Have I mentioned the attic isn't finished? I also discovered a gas exhaust pipe had broken apart and was unsure if it needed to be fixed by someone who knew what he was doing (as opposed to me). So I called Vagina Man.
Still with me?
How Vagina Man earned his name is a pretty amusing story, but you'll have to wait for another day, my friends.
Vagina Man came over, fixed the pipe, and advised me on what to get to close off the open windows. Fortunately, he hung around long enough to sense how pitiful I am and asked if I wanted him to just do it. Bingo! So off he went to Home Depot and within an hour everything was all better. There is now -- hopefully -- no way for the rats to get in the attic.
But you know what that means, right?
If there were some rats upstairs while the attic was being sealed off, THEY'RE UP THERE RIGHT NOW AND CAN'T GET OUT.
And guess what I'm hearing?
Welcome to Norfolkville Horror. If I emerge from my house with shocking white hair tomorrow, please direct my psych unit doctors to this blog before they make their final diagnosis.
Sweet dreams everyone.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Thanks for the help
No, I still haven't recovered from my shower of rat sh*t, but thank you for asking...
I'm moderately cranky these days and fighting it. My Christmases have been pretty much suspect since my parents split up eons ago. I've had good years here and there, but they still pretty much paled to the times when the folks were together and everyone was alive. I know by now I'm a grown adult and should be focusing my energies on my own family and my own children, but whoops, I forgot to have one/some. So here I am in a rat infested house, with nary a single Christmas decoration.
Needless to say, I'm usually pretty blue between Thanksgiving and New Year's. I'm somewhat used to it and try to fight it and some days are worse than others.
I don't know where I was going with this. Maybe it's because this afternoon didn't help any.
Herewith, today's story:
I picked up Destructo, the world's cutest dog, from doggie daycare this afternoon and headed home after a long day. Because of the constant road construction in this area, I've carved out all sorts of routes on back roads that probably don't save me much time, but save loads of frustration on my part. I was taking a very poorly lit back road through a residential neighborhood after dark this afternoon when a black dog ran out in front of my car! I had to slam on the brakes to avoid him and fortunately did. I'm not even sure how I saw him in time. There was a guy nearby getting out of his car and I asked if he knew who the dog belonged to and he said, "No," and continued on his way. Gee, thanks. In the meantime, the dog continued his journey down the middle of the street.
I tried turning around to go after him, but several impatient drivers descended on my car. I wound up going along my original path home and started the internal debate: "Should I go get him?" "Surely someone will help him." "Really? What if it was Bodhi??"
And so I turned around and went after him. Bodhi was having none of this, however. When I caught up with him, she turned into Cujo, barking and snarling, and the stray ran away. I caught up with him again but wasn't quite sure what I was going to do with Bodhi in the car. I decided to follow him just to make sure he wouldn't get hit. He stopped in front of a house and I couldn't tell if he recognized it or not. I started calling the doggie daycare to see if I could convince someone to come over to help him when I heard voices. Turns out, there were four adults in the driveway next to the house the stray was stopped in front of. I asked if anyone knew the dog and they all told me he belonged to the people next door -- the house he was standing in front of. Mind you, he was still a black dog in the middle of a dark street... I felt stupid asking, but said, "Um...is he normally outside like this?" They responded, "Oh yeah, he runs all over but he's harmless; he won't hurt you."
Sigh.
I told them that I almost hit him and would hate to see him get hurt and they all just kind of nodded at me.
And so I went off on my way, wondering why I had just wasted my time and if I was the crazy one...
I'm moderately cranky these days and fighting it. My Christmases have been pretty much suspect since my parents split up eons ago. I've had good years here and there, but they still pretty much paled to the times when the folks were together and everyone was alive. I know by now I'm a grown adult and should be focusing my energies on my own family and my own children, but whoops, I forgot to have one/some. So here I am in a rat infested house, with nary a single Christmas decoration.
Needless to say, I'm usually pretty blue between Thanksgiving and New Year's. I'm somewhat used to it and try to fight it and some days are worse than others.
I don't know where I was going with this. Maybe it's because this afternoon didn't help any.
Herewith, today's story:
I picked up Destructo, the world's cutest dog, from doggie daycare this afternoon and headed home after a long day. Because of the constant road construction in this area, I've carved out all sorts of routes on back roads that probably don't save me much time, but save loads of frustration on my part. I was taking a very poorly lit back road through a residential neighborhood after dark this afternoon when a black dog ran out in front of my car! I had to slam on the brakes to avoid him and fortunately did. I'm not even sure how I saw him in time. There was a guy nearby getting out of his car and I asked if he knew who the dog belonged to and he said, "No," and continued on his way. Gee, thanks. In the meantime, the dog continued his journey down the middle of the street.
I tried turning around to go after him, but several impatient drivers descended on my car. I wound up going along my original path home and started the internal debate: "Should I go get him?" "Surely someone will help him." "Really? What if it was Bodhi??"
And so I turned around and went after him. Bodhi was having none of this, however. When I caught up with him, she turned into Cujo, barking and snarling, and the stray ran away. I caught up with him again but wasn't quite sure what I was going to do with Bodhi in the car. I decided to follow him just to make sure he wouldn't get hit. He stopped in front of a house and I couldn't tell if he recognized it or not. I started calling the doggie daycare to see if I could convince someone to come over to help him when I heard voices. Turns out, there were four adults in the driveway next to the house the stray was stopped in front of. I asked if anyone knew the dog and they all told me he belonged to the people next door -- the house he was standing in front of. Mind you, he was still a black dog in the middle of a dark street... I felt stupid asking, but said, "Um...is he normally outside like this?" They responded, "Oh yeah, he runs all over but he's harmless; he won't hurt you."
Sigh.
I told them that I almost hit him and would hate to see him get hurt and they all just kind of nodded at me.
And so I went off on my way, wondering why I had just wasted my time and if I was the crazy one...
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Rats!
I can now check "have rat feces rain down upon me" off my Things to Experience Before I Die list.
I had a visiting Ben a couple months ago and still haven't had the strength to write up that story. Ben was successfully removed and I was waiting for evidence of any more intruders before putting out bait stations. I'm terrified my dog will somehow stumble on some crumbs of rat poison out in the yard and will die a prolonged, horrible death. So I refused to put the stations in after Ben's removal.
I'm rethinking this position.
I was getting ready to head off to a Christmas party last night when I heard very loud, very distinct chewing/gnawing in my kitchen. I tiptoed into the kitchen and after some focused listening, realized the chewer was in my attic. I banged on the ceiling with a broom handle, cursed, and went off to the party.
After Ben's visit, I knew I had to get into the attic. I only had a handful of boxes up there, but they contained photos and most importantly, my grandmother's photo album. Which is why I procrastinated on this task. The thought of her album being chewed caused me so much anxiety that I just kept putting it off.
Well, after the arrival of Amahl and the Night Visitors yesterday, I knew I had to get up there to rescue my boxes.
My house is the size of a postage stamp and the stairs up to the attic come down from the ceiling. I knew I was in trouble when I pulled down the ceiling panel and about four or five pieces of rat feces came tumbling down. I shuddered, tried to go to a happy place, and proceeded on. I began pulling the stairs down and a WAVE of rat feces rained down. I'll understand if you stop reading at this point; I can barely type.
The poop came down and I went up. Goodgodalmighty. Seems the rat(s) had traveled in and out of several boxes, chewing all the way. I was able to save all the photos but in a cruel twist, a box of things from my childhood and reminders of my Dad were pissed on by the little bastards. Needless to say, I went through a couple hundred disinfecting wipes today. Oh, and about 12 pairs of latex gloves.
I'm still horrified, I still have to deal with the rats and the attic and I'd just like to run away from home right about now...
I have to assume you've all had a better day than I.
I had a visiting Ben a couple months ago and still haven't had the strength to write up that story. Ben was successfully removed and I was waiting for evidence of any more intruders before putting out bait stations. I'm terrified my dog will somehow stumble on some crumbs of rat poison out in the yard and will die a prolonged, horrible death. So I refused to put the stations in after Ben's removal.
I'm rethinking this position.
I was getting ready to head off to a Christmas party last night when I heard very loud, very distinct chewing/gnawing in my kitchen. I tiptoed into the kitchen and after some focused listening, realized the chewer was in my attic. I banged on the ceiling with a broom handle, cursed, and went off to the party.
After Ben's visit, I knew I had to get into the attic. I only had a handful of boxes up there, but they contained photos and most importantly, my grandmother's photo album. Which is why I procrastinated on this task. The thought of her album being chewed caused me so much anxiety that I just kept putting it off.
Well, after the arrival of Amahl and the Night Visitors yesterday, I knew I had to get up there to rescue my boxes.
My house is the size of a postage stamp and the stairs up to the attic come down from the ceiling. I knew I was in trouble when I pulled down the ceiling panel and about four or five pieces of rat feces came tumbling down. I shuddered, tried to go to a happy place, and proceeded on. I began pulling the stairs down and a WAVE of rat feces rained down. I'll understand if you stop reading at this point; I can barely type.
The poop came down and I went up. Goodgodalmighty. Seems the rat(s) had traveled in and out of several boxes, chewing all the way. I was able to save all the photos but in a cruel twist, a box of things from my childhood and reminders of my Dad were pissed on by the little bastards. Needless to say, I went through a couple hundred disinfecting wipes today. Oh, and about 12 pairs of latex gloves.
I'm still horrified, I still have to deal with the rats and the attic and I'd just like to run away from home right about now...
I have to assume you've all had a better day than I.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Non sequiturs I have loved
I got a chance to study one of my toupee curiosities up close and personal the other day. There's a guy here who owns a couple car dealerships (Barton Ford Lincoln Mercuryyyy...World Class!) and does his own TV commercials. He has one of those odd heads of hair that looks like it could be a toupee. Why I'm fascinated by these things is beyond me. But he was in Costco the other day when I was there and I got to do a couple drive-bys to get in for closer inspection. I'm pretty sure it's his actual hair. Bravo, Mr. Barton.
Natalie Cole has another new album out, featuring a NEW! duet with her poor deceased father. I adore Nat King Cole and am listening to him right now. I'm wondering when or if it will strike Natalie as inappropriate to exploit her father's talent for her own gain. I'm pretty sure her last hit album (and yes, I know I keep saying 'album,' but get over it) was "Unforgettable," featuring a NEW! duet with her poor deceased father. So, the title of this NEW! album? "Still Unforgettable"...
I'm off to a holiday party tonight and am annoyed that I can't drink anything, for fear of a DUI check point between my house and my friend's house 30 minutes away. Wouldn't it be far easier to just let us all get tipsy during the month of December and ask all the sober, reliable people to stay off the roads between 11pm and 4am? Then the responsibly buzzed (but probably legally drunk) folks could drive around without fear of a DUI offense and the obliterated professional drunks could crash into each other, thereby thinning the herd...
Time to blow dry and straighten my unruly mane. See you cats later!
Natalie Cole has another new album out, featuring a NEW! duet with her poor deceased father. I adore Nat King Cole and am listening to him right now. I'm wondering when or if it will strike Natalie as inappropriate to exploit her father's talent for her own gain. I'm pretty sure her last hit album (and yes, I know I keep saying 'album,' but get over it) was "Unforgettable," featuring a NEW! duet with her poor deceased father. So, the title of this NEW! album? "Still Unforgettable"...
I'm off to a holiday party tonight and am annoyed that I can't drink anything, for fear of a DUI check point between my house and my friend's house 30 minutes away. Wouldn't it be far easier to just let us all get tipsy during the month of December and ask all the sober, reliable people to stay off the roads between 11pm and 4am? Then the responsibly buzzed (but probably legally drunk) folks could drive around without fear of a DUI offense and the obliterated professional drunks could crash into each other, thereby thinning the herd...
Time to blow dry and straighten my unruly mane. See you cats later!
Friday, December 12, 2008
Pssst -- we can see you
Open letter to the guy behind me on St. Paul's Boulevard earlier today: your car windows are transparent. People can see you. Specifically, I saw you in my rearview mirror. I saw you finish off a can of what was either a beer or an energy drink. I saw you then maniacally look to your left, to your right, back to your left, up, down, etc. until you stopped suddenly and removed your top teeth, leaving one off-center snaggletooth behind. You then proceeded to stroke, quickly and repeatedly, a small tuft of hair on the front of your head. Your behavior, camouflage clothing, and military tags on your windshield made me nervous.
And all this was in one traffic light cycle.
People, I know this is an extreme example, but I see similar instances every day -- when drivers must forget that we can see through their magic automobile windows. How else to explain the incredibly high number of instances of nose and/or teeth picking?? Thank god we can't see what picking is going on below the dashboard. Folks, if you wouldn't do it in a crowd, please don't do it in your car.
Thank you.
And all this was in one traffic light cycle.
People, I know this is an extreme example, but I see similar instances every day -- when drivers must forget that we can see through their magic automobile windows. How else to explain the incredibly high number of instances of nose and/or teeth picking?? Thank god we can't see what picking is going on below the dashboard. Folks, if you wouldn't do it in a crowd, please don't do it in your car.
Thank you.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
What a Brazzle Dazzle Night!
As if I didn't already adore "Pushing Daisies," they did a little homage to my favorite Disney movie, "Pete's Dragon," last night! Now I'm sure I don't have to tell any of you about this because you watched the episode and are already aware of all the references...But just in case you happened to miss "Pushing Daisies" just this once, I'll do a quick recap. The episode dealt with a lighthouse keeper (also found in "Pete's Dragon") named Merle McQuoddy. I perked up when I heard the last name but thought, "Nahhhh." As I'm sure you remember, the setting for "Pete's Dragon" is the town of Passamcquoddy (It's also the name of a zippy little duet on the soundtrack -- more on this later).
Next up, the lighthouse keeper's wife's name was "Nora". As was Helen Reddy's character in "Pete's Dragon". The son was named Elliott, also the name of the dragon in "Pete's Dragon". And I'm confident you all realized the similarities between the lighthouse keeper hiding in the cave on "Pushing Daisies" and Pete and Elliott hiding in a cave in "Pete's Dragon".
Finally, I'm sure you all choked up when Olive and several men finished off the episode with an a capella version of the Academy Award-nominated song, "Candle on the Water" from "Pete's Dragon"!
I was beside myself with joy.
It wasn't until I was driving to work this morning, singing my heart out to the "Pete's Dragon" soundtrack ("A dragon, a dragon, I swear I saw a dragon!") when I remembered that Jim Dale, the narrator of "Pushing Daisies" was a traveling salesman in "Pete's Dragon" who sang "Passamcquoddy"...........
I'm still all atingle.
Grey's is on, so let's just consider this Part 1 of my "Pete's Dragon" love affair.
What the hell? Grey's isn't on, it's some Operation Smile thing. All right, well the mood has passed for now and besides, I can get another blog out of Pete, so I'm going to sign off anyway.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
The Well is Dry!
Yeah, I'm a little nervous too. But I've got nothin'. Well, that's a lie. But all the voices rattling around in my head tonight fall into one of two categories: old stories that take too long to write or things I'm not writing about for public consumption. So that leaves me with bupkis for you folks! Sorry... Maybe I'll have better luck tomorrow. In the meantime, please write to someone somewhere about saving Pushing Daisies!!
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Senator Drescher
Sometimes the blogs just write themselves... Or better yet, the Associated Press does.
'Nanny' state? Drescher eyes Clinton's Senate seat
Dec 9 07:23 PM US/Eastern
ALBANY, N.Y. (AP) - The star of "The Nanny" wants to go from playing nasally New Yawkers to succeeding Hillary Rodham Clinton in the U.S. Senate.
Publicist Jordan Brown delivered the straight line that Fran Drescher is serious about becoming the next junior senator from New York. Brown cited Drescher's experience as an actress, advocate for women's health and public diplomacy envoy for the U.S. State Department. [What the hell is that gig and how did she get it? Sounds like she was a US-sanctioned fluffer.]
The 51-year-old "Saturday Night Fever" and "This is Spinal Tap" actress joins a field headed by Caroline Kennedy and New York Attorney General Andrew Cuomo. New York Gov. David Paterson will appoint Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton's successor if she is confirmed secretary of state in the Obama administration.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
I have a feeling we have Sarah Palin to thank for this. I imagine Fran figured, "Whaaaat? If she can be tha Vice President of the United Staaaaates, why can't I be tha Senator from New Yaaaaawk??"
This would have been more entertaining as an audio bit.
Maybe.
Unfortunately for Fran, Governor Paterson is blind, not deaf. The reverse might have benefited her more...
Then again, everyone scoffed at Gopher, Cooter, Ronnie, Sonny, and Ahnold when they began their political careers, so who knows? But if she succeeds, it's going to be that much more difficult to dissuade another certain brunette with a grating accent...
Monday, December 8, 2008
Why Did the Squirrel Cross the Road?
Can someone please explain to me why squirrels have a death wish? I just don't understand it. Every single solitary time I encounter a squirrel trying to cross the street as I approach in my car, he or she does the same dance: head across the street, see/hear my car and stop, and then just as I pass by -- run into the path of my front tire! It's like they've all decided on that cop-assisted-suicide thing. That's when some fool wants to kill himself but is too chicken to do the deed. So he starts running amok with a gun and when the cops are called and arrive on the scene, he points the gun at a cop so one or several start shooting at him. He gets dead, the cop feels like crap (I'm assuming), and he doesn't have to do it himself.
Is this what the squirrels are doing?? I've managed to successfully avoid them all these years, but I resent this behavior. You see me, you stop -- why don't you stay stopped?? What on earth makes you try to cross the street JUST at the worst possible moment?
I actually ran over the tail of a squirrel when I was on my bike as a child. Four or five of us were racing down the street and the squirrel got caught up in the mix and had no where to go. I managed to avoid running over his body, but snagged his tail as we went by. Maybe this is why we're forever linked. Am I the only one who gets sucked into this sadistic squirrel game? Maybe it's some sort of squirrel gang ritual. Next time it happens, I'm checking for colors or ink.
Is this what the squirrels are doing?? I've managed to successfully avoid them all these years, but I resent this behavior. You see me, you stop -- why don't you stay stopped?? What on earth makes you try to cross the street JUST at the worst possible moment?
I actually ran over the tail of a squirrel when I was on my bike as a child. Four or five of us were racing down the street and the squirrel got caught up in the mix and had no where to go. I managed to avoid running over his body, but snagged his tail as we went by. Maybe this is why we're forever linked. Am I the only one who gets sucked into this sadistic squirrel game? Maybe it's some sort of squirrel gang ritual. Next time it happens, I'm checking for colors or ink.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Santa's Sleepy!
The Second Annual charity Santa Crawl for ALS was yet another success! As such, I'm dragging today. I was tempted to not sign in and just let DecBloPoMo Go, but found I just couldn't do it. The result? This crappy blog entry! Ho, Ho, Ho!
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Hittup, two dots, slashes...
Yikes! I just realized I'm leaving home at 4 this afternoon and won't be home before midnight -- so I've got to get in a blog to satisfy DecBloPoMo...
I'm not sure why this video tickles me so much, but it does. Enjoy!
And if I remember any stories from tonight's Second Annual Santa Crawl, I'll share them with you tomorrow!
I'm not sure why this video tickles me so much, but it does. Enjoy!
And if I remember any stories from tonight's Second Annual Santa Crawl, I'll share them with you tomorrow!
Friday, December 5, 2008
Tastes Like Chicken?
I know I've been slacking on the stories lately, but they're so looooong and it's cold and I'm laaaaaaazy. Please forgive me. I'll see if I can't knock some out in the next few days... I thank you for your patience during this difficult time. :)
Actually, speaking of difficult times...
I'm in charge of a Social Committee at work that is supposed to raise money and then sponsor work gatherings. Only problem is, most of my coworkers don't want to do anything besides work with each other -- and even that's a stretch on occasion. So the SC has devolved into my buying and selling snacks in the break room, doing a monthly "Birthday Club" cake thing, and maintaining the coffee supplies. Yes, my life is everything I hoped it would be.
I use the profits from the snack sales to buy a bunch of gifts from Costco to raffle off at the yearly holiday luncheon. I decided to get them today and rather than store them in my garage and then load them up again to take to work, I just brought them back to work this afternoon (I'm normally off on Friday afternoons...). When I got there, my good friend Anne had grown a baby! I thought it might be her neice but it was the daughter of our coworkers, Brenda and Arthur. Anne's been sick as a dog for over a week, so I took the baby from her. Brenda had asked Anne to hold her daughter so she could go turn off all her lab equipment. Brenda was supposed to be taking the baby to the doc, but she and Arthur had just gotten horrible news -- Arthur's brother called to say that when their mother didn't show up at work this morning, he went to check on her and discovered her dead on the floor. Horrible. So Brenda and Arthur were running all over the place, getting everything in order so they could leave. Of course, the baby still had to go to the doc...and they have to make arrangements to get to Louisiana. Ah, the chaos of unexpected family emergencies.
And I, in my twisted way, of course went to the following (when Brenda and Arthur weren't around): lord, if I ever drop dead at home, the dog will wind up gnawing off my limbs and no one will think to check on me for days! Shoot, no one even has a key to my house. Or the alarm code! Ack. Another coworker, BJ (who's known for her tact), pointed out that if I should die at home, Bodhi would begin eating my nose because it's the easiest thing to access.
Thank you.
And so, there it is. If you're single and childless as an adult, some day your dog may eat off your nose.
Sweet dreams everyone!
Actually, speaking of difficult times...
I'm in charge of a Social Committee at work that is supposed to raise money and then sponsor work gatherings. Only problem is, most of my coworkers don't want to do anything besides work with each other -- and even that's a stretch on occasion. So the SC has devolved into my buying and selling snacks in the break room, doing a monthly "Birthday Club" cake thing, and maintaining the coffee supplies. Yes, my life is everything I hoped it would be.
I use the profits from the snack sales to buy a bunch of gifts from Costco to raffle off at the yearly holiday luncheon. I decided to get them today and rather than store them in my garage and then load them up again to take to work, I just brought them back to work this afternoon (I'm normally off on Friday afternoons...). When I got there, my good friend Anne had grown a baby! I thought it might be her neice but it was the daughter of our coworkers, Brenda and Arthur. Anne's been sick as a dog for over a week, so I took the baby from her. Brenda had asked Anne to hold her daughter so she could go turn off all her lab equipment. Brenda was supposed to be taking the baby to the doc, but she and Arthur had just gotten horrible news -- Arthur's brother called to say that when their mother didn't show up at work this morning, he went to check on her and discovered her dead on the floor. Horrible. So Brenda and Arthur were running all over the place, getting everything in order so they could leave. Of course, the baby still had to go to the doc...and they have to make arrangements to get to Louisiana. Ah, the chaos of unexpected family emergencies.
And I, in my twisted way, of course went to the following (when Brenda and Arthur weren't around): lord, if I ever drop dead at home, the dog will wind up gnawing off my limbs and no one will think to check on me for days! Shoot, no one even has a key to my house. Or the alarm code! Ack. Another coworker, BJ (who's known for her tact), pointed out that if I should die at home, Bodhi would begin eating my nose because it's the easiest thing to access.
Thank you.
And so, there it is. If you're single and childless as an adult, some day your dog may eat off your nose.
Sweet dreams everyone!
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Prop 8: The Musical!
I'm feelin' a little lazy tonight and I have new eps of "The Bonnie Hunt Show," "Top Chef," and "Celebrity Rehab" to watch, so......... Enjoy this little video production!
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Generation Who?
What could have been yet another mildly uncomfortable quarterly lab meeting earlier today turned into a pretty interesting talk about generational diversity in the workplace, thanks to a guest speaker from ODU. For the first time in history, four generations of adults are sharing the workplace at the same time: Traditionalists, Baby Boomers, Generation X, and Millenials. There's some disagreement over what birth years fall into each category, but I'll assume you know who you are.
It appears the Millenials are far more different than the preceding three generations. And now that they're entering the work force, the TraditionBoomerXers have to figure out how to deal with them. While trying to find an abbreviated definition of the different generations, I stumbled upon a quiz. It's based on a differing opinion that one's generation shouldn't be determined by birth year but by the media used. I'm a Gen Xer but discovered earlier today that I have Millenial tendencies -- which this quiz just confirmed. I don't know whether I should be happy about that or not!
But let's see how you all do:
Do you have your own web page? (1 point)
Have you made a web page for someone else? (2 points)
Do you IM your friends? (1 point)
Do you text your friends? (2 points)
Do you watch videos on YouTube? (1 point)
Do you remix video files from the Internet? (2 points)
Have you paid for and downloaded music from the Internet? (1 point)
Do you know where to download free (illegal) music from the Internet? (2 points)
Do you blog for professional reasons? (1 point)
Do you blog as a way to keep an online diary? (2 points)
Have you visited MySpace at least five times? (1 point)
Do you communicate with friends on Facebook? (2 points)
Do you use email to communicate with your parents? (1 point)
Did you text to communicate with your parents? (2 points)
Do you take photos with your phone? (1 point)
Do you share your photos from your phone with your friends? (2 points)
Results:
0-1 point - Baby Boomer
2-6 points - Generation Jones [I'm not entirely sure who they are!]
6- 12 points - Generation X
12 or over - Generation Y [Millenials]
(http://blog.penelopetrunk.com/2007/06/25/what-generation-are-you-part-of-really-take-this-test/)
And in case you're curious, here's a brief crash course in the different generations:
Traditionalists
Traditionalists, also called Matures and Silents, have a strong sense of duty, sacrifice, and loyalty toward companies. Having either fought in WWII or, more likely, having been children during the war, they remember the horror of war, the Great Depression, Pearl Harbour, and Hiroshima. As such, when they settled down, and still today, they weren’t likely to rock the boat, break the rules, or disrespect authority. Traditionalists usually stay with their employers until they retire.
Baby Boomers
By contrast, and in response to Traditionalists, Baby Boomers asserted their individuality. Baby Boomers initiated the civil rights movement, went to Woodstock, rallied against the Vietnam War. Boomers took control, and today, they remain in control. They run governments, are bosses, supervisors, managers, and CEOs of most companies, dominating the workforce. Never has there been a people more dedicated to a solid, strong work ethic. Boomers work long and hard and like to be seen doing it. It’s no surprise that the term "workaholic," was coined for this generation.
Gen Xers
It’s quite fitting that the first generation whose parents could take pills not to have them, would be categorized as "rejecters." Every institution that has said "you can trust us," be it government, church, military, major corporations, and marriage, has fallen flat on its face. It’s hardly surprising that this generation tends to be skeptical toward authority and cautious in their commitments. They grew up very quickly amid rising divorce rates, latchkeys, violence, and low expectations. As a result, this generation has willingly shouldered the responsibility for their day-to-day well-being. Gen Xers assume free agency over company loyalty.
Gen Yers
Some might say coddled and confident, Gen Yers or Millennials have mostly known affluence their entire lives, as they were raised in a growing economy, and protected by their parents from an increasingly threatening outside world. Born in a time where cellphones, laptops, remote controls, and travels to outer space are the norm, Gen Yers are living in a world ubiquitous with technology. Today, as they enter the workforce in droves, a population whose size will rival the Boomers, they have positive, can-do attitudes that say "I’m here to make a difference."
(http://content.monster.ca/7371_en-CA_p2.asp)
It appears the Millenials are far more different than the preceding three generations. And now that they're entering the work force, the TraditionBoomerXers have to figure out how to deal with them. While trying to find an abbreviated definition of the different generations, I stumbled upon a quiz. It's based on a differing opinion that one's generation shouldn't be determined by birth year but by the media used. I'm a Gen Xer but discovered earlier today that I have Millenial tendencies -- which this quiz just confirmed. I don't know whether I should be happy about that or not!
But let's see how you all do:
Do you have your own web page? (1 point)
Have you made a web page for someone else? (2 points)
Do you IM your friends? (1 point)
Do you text your friends? (2 points)
Do you watch videos on YouTube? (1 point)
Do you remix video files from the Internet? (2 points)
Have you paid for and downloaded music from the Internet? (1 point)
Do you know where to download free (illegal) music from the Internet? (2 points)
Do you blog for professional reasons? (1 point)
Do you blog as a way to keep an online diary? (2 points)
Have you visited MySpace at least five times? (1 point)
Do you communicate with friends on Facebook? (2 points)
Do you use email to communicate with your parents? (1 point)
Did you text to communicate with your parents? (2 points)
Do you take photos with your phone? (1 point)
Do you share your photos from your phone with your friends? (2 points)
Results:
0-1 point - Baby Boomer
2-6 points - Generation Jones [I'm not entirely sure who they are!]
6- 12 points - Generation X
12 or over - Generation Y [Millenials]
(http://blog.penelopetrunk.com/2007/06/25/what-generation-are-you-part-of-really-take-this-test/)
And in case you're curious, here's a brief crash course in the different generations:
Traditionalists
Traditionalists, also called Matures and Silents, have a strong sense of duty, sacrifice, and loyalty toward companies. Having either fought in WWII or, more likely, having been children during the war, they remember the horror of war, the Great Depression, Pearl Harbour, and Hiroshima. As such, when they settled down, and still today, they weren’t likely to rock the boat, break the rules, or disrespect authority. Traditionalists usually stay with their employers until they retire.
Baby Boomers
By contrast, and in response to Traditionalists, Baby Boomers asserted their individuality. Baby Boomers initiated the civil rights movement, went to Woodstock, rallied against the Vietnam War. Boomers took control, and today, they remain in control. They run governments, are bosses, supervisors, managers, and CEOs of most companies, dominating the workforce. Never has there been a people more dedicated to a solid, strong work ethic. Boomers work long and hard and like to be seen doing it. It’s no surprise that the term "workaholic," was coined for this generation.
Gen Xers
It’s quite fitting that the first generation whose parents could take pills not to have them, would be categorized as "rejecters." Every institution that has said "you can trust us," be it government, church, military, major corporations, and marriage, has fallen flat on its face. It’s hardly surprising that this generation tends to be skeptical toward authority and cautious in their commitments. They grew up very quickly amid rising divorce rates, latchkeys, violence, and low expectations. As a result, this generation has willingly shouldered the responsibility for their day-to-day well-being. Gen Xers assume free agency over company loyalty.
Gen Yers
Some might say coddled and confident, Gen Yers or Millennials have mostly known affluence their entire lives, as they were raised in a growing economy, and protected by their parents from an increasingly threatening outside world. Born in a time where cellphones, laptops, remote controls, and travels to outer space are the norm, Gen Yers are living in a world ubiquitous with technology. Today, as they enter the workforce in droves, a population whose size will rival the Boomers, they have positive, can-do attitudes that say "I’m here to make a difference."
(http://content.monster.ca/7371_en-CA_p2.asp)
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Laissez Pork Roll Roulez!
Some friends/coworkers (friendly coworkers? coworking friendlies?) and I went to lunch today in Norfolk. Imagine my surprise when one of the two lunch specials was a "Taylor Pork Roll Sandwich"! I grew up believing pork roll was indigenous to New Jersey and only available in New Jersey. While living in Richmond VA, I always returned from visits to Jersey with some pork roll. So you can imagine my shock when I spotted a box of Taylor pork roll (8 thin-sliced, far preferable to the 4 thick-sliced) in a local grocery store in Norfolk VA about eight years ago! I attributed its availability down here to the large number of New Jerseyans in the Navy stationed in Norfolk. But in my wildest dreams, I never expected to see Taylor Pork Roll on the menu -- let alone a special -- in one of the more popular restaurants in Ghent (a quasi-hip Norfolk neighborhood).
Well, pork roll may have been on the menu, but they completely mangled its essence. Pork roll sandwiches should be served one of three ways:
1) alone, with American cheese, (with or without ketchup) on a hard roll;
2) with a fried egg, American cheese, (with or without ketchup) on a hard roll;
3) with a hamburger or cheeseburger, etc. on a hard roll.
Pepper is allowed, but salt could kill you -- pork roll is already one of the saltiest products on the planet...
To my knowledge, these are the only accepted versions. So what were they serving up in Norfolk earlier today? A "Taylor Pork Roll Sandwich" consisting of: pork roll, provolone cheese, spicey mustard, lettuce, tomatoes, and onions, on a kaiser roll.
{shudder}
I was overcome with emotion. First I was thrilled to see pork roll on the menu (spotted first by one of my coworkers from NC, so the good word is being spread) then I was disgusted and confused when I read how it was being served. There was no way I would order it! I looked at the menu over and over again but kept coming back to the pork roll. How could I not order it, even in this bastardized form?
Well, whaddya know? It sucked. How could I have ever doubted the three approved versions of a pork roll sandwich?? I couldn't even TASTE the pork roll because it was so overwhelmed by the other ingredients! They might as well have served cardboard as the primary ingredient! I ate the first half as served and then whittled away the second half so that I was left with the pork roll, provolone, mustard, and kaiser roll. Out of the whole sandwich, there were approximately two bites in which I could detect the delectable pork roll sweetness. It was such a tease!
And now my mouth is watering. I think I have two slices in the fridge... And a roll. And some American cheese... Hmmm. I'll catch you cats later!
Well, pork roll may have been on the menu, but they completely mangled its essence. Pork roll sandwiches should be served one of three ways:
1) alone, with American cheese, (with or without ketchup) on a hard roll;
2) with a fried egg, American cheese, (with or without ketchup) on a hard roll;
3) with a hamburger or cheeseburger, etc. on a hard roll.
Pepper is allowed, but salt could kill you -- pork roll is already one of the saltiest products on the planet...
To my knowledge, these are the only accepted versions. So what were they serving up in Norfolk earlier today? A "Taylor Pork Roll Sandwich" consisting of: pork roll, provolone cheese, spicey mustard, lettuce, tomatoes, and onions, on a kaiser roll.
{shudder}
I was overcome with emotion. First I was thrilled to see pork roll on the menu (spotted first by one of my coworkers from NC, so the good word is being spread) then I was disgusted and confused when I read how it was being served. There was no way I would order it! I looked at the menu over and over again but kept coming back to the pork roll. How could I not order it, even in this bastardized form?
Well, whaddya know? It sucked. How could I have ever doubted the three approved versions of a pork roll sandwich?? I couldn't even TASTE the pork roll because it was so overwhelmed by the other ingredients! They might as well have served cardboard as the primary ingredient! I ate the first half as served and then whittled away the second half so that I was left with the pork roll, provolone, mustard, and kaiser roll. Out of the whole sandwich, there were approximately two bites in which I could detect the delectable pork roll sweetness. It was such a tease!
And now my mouth is watering. I think I have two slices in the fridge... And a roll. And some American cheese... Hmmm. I'll catch you cats later!
Monday, December 1, 2008
NaBloPoMo, Ho Ho Ho
I'm not sure what's come over me, but I'm signing up for another round of NaBloPoMo. As far as I know, November is the official Mo of NaBloPoMo, but they've expanded to encourage people to continue blogging all year long. I wish they'd come up with some different names for the other months though. If every Mo is NaBloPoMo, it takes something away from November, dontcha think?
I'm not entirely sure I can blog every day in December because of the holidays and such. I'll be at my mom's home in NJ for a portion of the month and blogging with her dial-up internet was trying when I was up there a couple weeks ago. So I'm not promising ye scurvy dogs an' wenches anything! Sorry. I switched my Facebook language to "pirate" earlier today and I'm getting a little confused...
Today's little news tidbit concerns the beautiful and brilliantly funny Tina Fey. Seems she has finally addressed the scar on the left side of her face. I'm sure there's more to this story, but the part she finally shared is that a stranger approached her on her front lawn and sliced her face with a knife when she was 5-years-old.
Youch.
And now we know why she's a comedian. Her therapist has told her she has the potential to go crazy when her daughter is the same age Fey was when she was attacked. I can totally see that. In the meantime, let's hope she keeps channeling this horrific story into intelligent humor.
Glasses, witty, and emotionally scarred? Oh, she's my kind of girl! Rrrrrrrr. :)
I'm not entirely sure I can blog every day in December because of the holidays and such. I'll be at my mom's home in NJ for a portion of the month and blogging with her dial-up internet was trying when I was up there a couple weeks ago. So I'm not promising ye scurvy dogs an' wenches anything! Sorry. I switched my Facebook language to "pirate" earlier today and I'm getting a little confused...
Today's little news tidbit concerns the beautiful and brilliantly funny Tina Fey. Seems she has finally addressed the scar on the left side of her face. I'm sure there's more to this story, but the part she finally shared is that a stranger approached her on her front lawn and sliced her face with a knife when she was 5-years-old.
Youch.
And now we know why she's a comedian. Her therapist has told her she has the potential to go crazy when her daughter is the same age Fey was when she was attacked. I can totally see that. In the meantime, let's hope she keeps channeling this horrific story into intelligent humor.
Glasses, witty, and emotionally scarred? Oh, she's my kind of girl! Rrrrrrrr. :)
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