I've discovered who the Antichrist is - or, more appropriately, are. It's those two "adorable" teenage twins, Mary-Kate and Ashley.
As little tikes, they single-handedly inflicted the insufferable Bob Sagett on us when they shared the role of Michelle Tanner on "Full House". But their plot, which I will reveal here, goes far, far deeper than awful sit-coms.
First of all, these girls have a media empire to make Martha Stewart blush - videos, several series of books, a cartoon show, video games, and a web site complete with horoscope and fashion advice. Oh, there are so many books out there - there's a mystery series, your basic junior high adventures, etc. I quit counting at 40 - I don't have THAT much free time, despite my concern about the girls who will one day take over Planet Earth. There's titles like "Winning London", "School Dance Party", "The Case of the Mall Mystery", and "Never Been Kissed". Do you think in a couple of years, under the guise of sex education, they will publish the sweet and tender "Mary-Kate and Ashley Get Deflowered"? Or how about the gritty "Mary-Kate and Ashley Get Jobs at the Orange Julius"? At least those books would have a shot at being interesting.
Now they have teamed up with Mal Wart to coerce millions of teenage girls to part with their (parents') hard-earned cash. First, I caught sight of "Mary-Kate and Ashley" brand hair detangler. Though I was in dire need of such a product, there was NO WAY those creepy-looking brats were getting my hard-earned cash. Upon further investigation, I have discovered that their merchandizing empire goes much farther then health and beauty aids. Clothes, jewelry, bedding, accessories, eyewear, shoes, watches...these little bitches have their greedy mits on just about anything that can be emblazoned with their names! I really freaked out when I encountered their grinning, squeaky clean visages beaming at me from a prominent display in the fabric department. They have discovered the arts and crafts craze, they even have fabric! I think they are looking to launch their own line of potting soils next. At least that and frozen foods seem to be the only sort of merchandise untapped by the teenage money-making duo.
So, as the magnetic pulse that destroys all the computers in the world emits from Mary-Kate and Asley's skulls after they have taken all the world's free currency, remember: I warned you.
I saw this enormous bug, thankfully squished, in a parking lot the other day. It was huge, easily the size of a canned ham. I think a roach must have had its way with one of those freaky, big-ass beetles and this was the offspring. Okay, maybe it was more like the size of my cell phone. And I don't have one of those small cell phones either. I think it's a Motorola. Not the bug - the phone.
Jeff said I should have saved it and brought it to an acquaintance of ours who has a Ph.D. in Bugology. But that was too gross, and besides, I want to stay friends with the guy.
It all started this morning on my way to work. I was behind a Chemlawn truck; suddenly, this blue liquid starts pouring out of the truck's supposedly sealed rear door. It looked like the syrup that 7-11 must use to make their blue raspberry Squishies. Ewww. Hope it didn't splash onto the Sinister Transport Vehicle.
So it comes to this: we sent a technical paper to some guy in Mexico to have it translated into Spanish. Of course it's in my huckleberry, Microslop Word. Somehow, all the graphics are now quite blurry, and I have to go into the original version, type in the translations, and export them back into the Spanish version. Naturally, much digital mayhem is ensuing. Not to mention all the other work piling up on my desk, thanks to Chuck-a-Palooza 2002 (details to follow). Grrrrrrrrrr.
Hey kids! Instead of sending the same print job to the nice color laser printer 20 times, how about asking for help if it doesn't print after, say, the first go round? Even better - why not give that printing process a few minutes after you hit print the first time, since your print job is large and takes a while to spool into the neato-keen little server that's attached to the printer! You see, those 20 jobs stay in that server, even after I reset it, and they keep ruining the marketing materials I have to print at some point today to send to Mexico.
Wankers.
My unofficial job description includes the title "engineer wrangler". I make Power Point presentations, revise instruction manuals, scan medical records, create lots of technical drawings, etc., for the engineers in my office. And the engineer that needs the most wrangling is Uncle Chuck.
Uncle Chuck (or Chuckie, as he's also called) is considered one of the bright minds of electrical engineering, which means he doesn't know much about computers. To my credit, over the past year I've taught him how to save files to a CD, how to import slides from other Power Point presentations (or, as he calls it, "port them in"), and how to save an attached file from an e-mail. He tends to repeat the same stories, so he requires some patience. We tried assigning numbers to his stories at one point. (Important: do not mention Schenectady, NY to Chuck.) To his credit, when his presentations or papers win awards, he takes me to lunch since I did all the hard work - such as having to decipher his handwriting. Last time we went to a very nice Italian restaurant and had some great calamari. So science fairs apparently do prepare you for the competitive world of technical professional seminars.
Uncle Chuckie enjoys traveling. Cleverly, he takes a month-long vacation every year right before he gives a seminar where people actually pay money to sit and hear him talk about his little corner of the electrical engineering universe for an entire week - an event I've christened "Chuck-a-Palooza". His timing could be a little better. Before he left I had to pry all the information I needed out of him to get all the presentations and course materials ready. This required me to listen to him rhapsodize about Rick Steves' travel guides, about how he sent an e-mail agenda of his trip to his sons with links to all the hotels they'll be staying at, how he's going to sit at some cafe and watch the French girls go to work, how in a matter of days he would be drinking wine and eating crepes filled with ice cream. To which I reply, "And while you're doing that, do spare a moment to think of me hunched over my computer doing all these technical drawings for your presentations." He did actually hear me say that once, because he acknowledged my statement with "I know, dear, and I appreciate it." Hopefully he'll bring me a cool souvenir. He's from Cleveland, so he's not all that bad. Even though he spells insert 'incert'.
Chuckie called me from Paris a couple of weeks ago. The food was great, he could see the Eiffel Tower from the apartment he was staying in - and there's a lot of dog poop on the Parisian sidewalks. I'll have to wait to hear all his other stories when he gets back next week. Besides, it's almost a little too quiet when he's not around.
Yesterday started off with one of those "I'm back in high school" dreams. I hate those, and it's been a while since I've had one. It included me ignoring a fight started in the hall by Buffy the Vampire Slayer in favor of getting breakfast. Then I had to go to my locker; I panicked as I forgot the lock combination. Then relaxed when I found the combination stuck to the back of the lock. The rest of the dream consisted of me stuffing things into said locker, including frozen foods and wadded up clothes, while some current friends waited.
This dream may explain why I was transfixed by an episode of "Sailor Moon" that morning before work. Just who is the mysterious "Tuxedo Mask" character that Sailor Moon is so crazy about?
At work, I got to leave the office (wheee!) to attend a vendor's Open House. They had selected a tropical motif; employees wearing Hawaiian shirts = good. Playing a Jimmy Buffet tape that has only three songs over and over = bad. I must have heard "Cheeseburger in Paradise" about 30 times while we were there. At least I got to escape the office tedium and got a free lunch too.
In the parking lot, I saw what has to be the strangest vanity plate: YAHWEH. What are we to make of this? That the driver is indeed Yahweh? Or that he feels a special affinity for Yahweh like others feel for the Buccaneers or the UF Gators? Is someone driving around with a GOD vanity plate?
I had some more weird dreams last night. The only one I can remember is walking around a Victorian-era house of ill repute, and then finding some way-cool books on Italian Renaissance costuming. No Sailor Moon this morning, but I did have some leftover chili for breakfast.
Introducing Tootsie Roll Flavor Rolls! These treats are much cheaper if you buy them at Target. If you go to the candy store at the mall, (you know the one, with all the bins of bulk candy that little kids reach into with their filthy mits) they cost a lot more, and usually some bastard picks through and gets all the cherry and orange ones before I get there. The vanilla ones are my least favorite.
Think of the Tootsie Rolls Flavor Rolls as the Happy Meal of candies. Permit me to introduce you to the choicest steak from Bern's. The Flavor Rolls are the Ford Festiva - The Lindt White Chocolate Truffles are the new Ford Thunderbird. Individually wrapped white truffles with smooth white chocolate filling.
I gotta shout out to my hubby, Jeff, who set up this blog for me. You may have noticed a recent proliferation of images in my blog entries. That's because Jeff, in a spare minute or three, wrote some program that enables me, someone very unknowledgeable on HTML lore, to easily post images here. He may have created a monster.
So, in honor of Jeff's latest technological innovation, here's rare footage of his bare leg.
I recently revisited one of the lipsticks from my collection - a nice little product from Clinique that doesn’t wear off on your Diet Coke can, and doesn’t leave a lip print when you kiss someone on the cheek. This ability to not leave any evidence behind is a Good Thing. Since “Plum Raisin” is a little dark for everyday wear, I headed over to the Clinique counter during lunch. Nothing lifts the spirits like a purchase of lipstick, I thought to myself.
Imagine my surprise when the cute Clinique counter girl (who had a neat East European accent of some sort) told me that Clinique discontinued that line of lipstick! “I don’t know why, it was very popular,” she told me. “I think you can still buy it in Canada.”
Faced with the prospect of quite a long road trip, I sadly turned and walked over to the Estee Lauder counter. The girl there assured me that their “Sumptuous Lipstick” had just the staying power I was after. “It might come off a little bit, but it lasts a long time,” she said. She helped me pick out a shade called “Demure”.
My product testing of “Sumptuous Lipstick” has determined that it DOES come off on your Diet Coke can (or straw, in this case); I haven’t kissed anyone yet to determine its staying power in that department.
This always happens to me, I get hooked on a product and then they stop selling it. It all started with Victoria’s Secret “Her Majesty’s Rose” perfume. I about had a fit in the middle of the store when they told me they didn’t have it anymore. The curse extends to food; even when I’ve tried outwitting the curse by asking at the beginning of the meal if they can save me a slice of my favorite dessert, when I say I'm ready for him to bring forth the tiramisu, the waiter says, “Oh, sorry, she just bought the last piece.”
UPDATE: I think I’ve found the magical Clinique lipstick (“Superlast”) on-line. What color do you suppose “Velvet Pout” is?
This is much better than I hoped. I thought it might tell me I'm a dumbass.
This gem turned up on my soup-ervisor's desk; it was on a postcard from some trade publication. The copy implied that we would be in a similar sad state if we didn't buy advertising space from them. Bonus: Soup wants me to Photoshop the face of one of the regional sales managers into this image. Ex-cellent.
