Monday was the one of the worst days I have experienced as an employee of anyone. Not because I was being oppressed by The Man (who doesn't have to be male, by the way). No. My day was made miserable by technology - specifically, a file that resisted all attempts at printing. I recreated it from scratch, I changed graphics formats, I deleted graphics, nothing worked. Other files printed, but not this bad boy. I wound up staying at the office till about 6 pm. Oh, and I had to work through lunch on another project.
So I decided to go ice skating on my lunch break yesterday. I was the only one in sector 7G marketing, everyone else was at a trade show, or sick. This being the case, I magnanimously extended my lunch to two hours, because I was such a hard worker the day before.
I was the only person under 55 at the rink. I was also the worst skater. But Fast Eddie, a very nice older gentleman on speed skates, skated with me to help me get my balance on my new skates. (I have decided that I would like to fix Fast Eddie up with my mom. He was very nice.) I usually get along pretty well with older people, except the bad/slow driving types.
Now I have to keep working on my skating, to prove my generation isn't totally good-for-nothing. Though they admitted I had the best eyesight, when I helped them figure out the sound system in the rink.
No blog is complete this time of year without at least one complaint about a Christma$ commercial. I despise the Lexus commercials, where the yuppies surprise their spouses with the gift of expensive cars. I remember when Dad brought home an Audi - boy was Mom pissed. Not at all like the ad in question.
A new commercial on my list is the one where the guy has brought his woman to a palazzo in Italy. "I love this woman!" he shouts. She's all embarrassed. Then he gives her a diamond necklace. "I love this man," she whispers in a husky voice. The implication being, she didn't love him until he gave her expensive jewelry - that's how I read that one.
Ladies, if a man takes you to Italy, you let him shout whatever he wants, unless it will incite a riot.
Marvel Comics plans on introducing the world's first openly homosexual title comic book character. Read about The Rawhide Kid here.
I assume this does not include gay characters such as the Wonder Twins.
I spent yesterday at work creating the single most complex animated Power Point slide I've ever had to design. It's an animated technical drawing for the VP of Engineering, who has been asked to make a "very simple" presentation to the masses at the company meeting Friday.
"You are a Folkloric Belly Dancer! In fact, we can't even call you a belly dancer -- you prefer the term Raks Sharki or Oriental Danse. Your choreographies are spot on authentic and your costumes are the real deal. You wouldn't dream of doing a Saudi step in a Ghawazee dress. A card-carrying member of the ethnic police, you keep the rest of us in line -- the debke line, that is!"
This morning, I found on my desk a cd, upon which was written, "Merry Christmas Karen - Office Stalker". (Okay, he signed his name, I don't think he knows how he's referred to around here.)
I don't know how much more distant and unfriendly that I can be to this guy without shouting insults. I don't acknowledge him unless absolutely neccesary. What do you suppose is on this cd? Here are some guesses-
Alan Jackson singing "I Love a Girl Named Karen" 345 times.*sigh* Why couldn't he still be stuck on the sales administrative assistant? I think I'll let my soup-ervisor find out what's on the cd when she returns this afternoon.
Post Script - I've just learned that Alan Jackson sings that incredibly stupid song, "Little Bitty". I've only heard this song because a former co-worker had gone country in a big way. Man, does that song suck!
It turns out that my health insurance, which is pretty craptacular in most other aspects, has recently started offering massage therapy sessions at $35! And accupuncture, if you're so inclined. Like a lot of desk jockeys, I get sore shoulders, more so since the start of Project: Non-Fiction. So I called the nearest LMT on the list and made an appointment.
Due to my very pedestrian college life, this was the first time I found myself naked in a stranger's apartment. She was a very nice stranger, though, and the apartment was nice too, in the newly-discovered-by-yuppies side of town. Apparently a lot of massage therapists work out of their homes. Just beware if they ask you to lie on a weight bench, instead of one of those professional massage tables with the funky headrests. The table I encountered even had 'breast indents'! How thoughtful!
I highly recommend the experience for all you slouchers and hunchbacks out there. Just don't ask for the 'full release' massage - according to the form I filled out, that will get you kicked out on your ass pronto.
Take the What Kind Of Soap Are YOU? quiz @ The Quiz Blog @ Door.nu
Every so often, I am reminded that I am different than most people. Certainly not better different - just different. That reminder came last night at Jeff's office Christmas party.
I tried to time our arrival just right, but that didn't work out. We wound up sitting right across from his boss and mrs. boss. And of course, the topic of their children came up, specifically, what the little three-year-old is getting from Santa this year - a My Twinn Doll. Now, first of all, I find dolls in general a tad creepy. Those vacant, lifeless eyes, set in a realistic body. But the concept of a doll crafted to look EXACTLY like your child seems to be ripped from the pages of some Stephen King novel. If, as the ad copy on the web site claims, "Every child is an original," then just how does it follow that a doll that looks exactly like her is a"beautiful reflection of just how special your child is"??? Doesn't that send the message that the child is NOT original - that, in fact, she can be easily be replaced with a plastic replica? I bet these kids who get these dolls are going to wind up in therapy in the next 7-10 years. Oh, and don't worry - they make boy My Twinn dolls, too. (Another disturbing thing about these dolls - "The My Twinn doll has 18 points of poseability for versatile, lifelike movement. The unique poseability of a My Twinn doll adds a distinctive dimension of playability.") But the thing is, everyone at the table thought this was just such an "adorable" idea. Everyone except Jeff and me, the 'child-free' freaks that we are.
Of course, the conversation stayed focused on children, though, thankfully, the little tykes were left with a sitter. It seems that the little girl who's getting the doll that looks just like her is still using a pacifier - at age three. The hilarious thing is that she reasons with her parents about this thing like it's a heroin habit. "This year, Daddy, I promise I'll give them up. Really." And then she says, when asked what's so great about them, "It's just my thing." But Mommy can't bear to take the pacifiers away, because her dentist told her that HIS kid at age four, regressed and started wetting the bed when they took his pacifier away. Meanwhile, another child was sucking away at a pacifier at the age of eight, though at least she became a closet sucker, hiding the habit from the eyes of others.
And my reaction is, "Why do you put up with this?" and also, "Thank gawd I don't have kids!" I just couldn't deal with that. I couldn't deal with some little child screaming, "Mommy, I'm having nightmares, gimme my pacifier and let me sleep with you!!!" I'm just not emotionally equipped to deal with that sort of thing. And, thankfully, in this day and age, I don't have to be.
The other thing which I found very strage was what passed for funny with these people. Apparently someone told the joke, the punchline of which is, "Can I push in your stool?", and they all thought that was the funniest thing ever. And this was before the beer and wine started flowing. I mean, come on, who didn't hear that one in tenth grade? Next they'll be saying that Carrot Top is a comic genius!
The evening always culminates in the office workers bestoying gifts upon Jeff, his boss, and the guy who owns the company (who happens to look like a grey-haired Mr. Rogers). After a few years I've noticed a pattern in what Jeff receives; so I leaned over and whispered, as he started to unwrap the gift, "I bet it's a Dilbert desk calendar," I should have made him take the bet, because I was right. Come on, people, while Dilbert is hilarious, can't you bother to get to know the guy who keeps your computer running a little better than that? The same thing every year? ACK!
Well, the good news is, the stuffed salmon was delicious.
Tonight's episode of The Simpsons...wasn't all that funny. It was only mildly amusing. Guest star Kelsey Grammer was great as he always is on the show, but I didn't laugh out loud. I think that's a first.
In my topsy-turvy world, I've always known that at least I can count on The Simpsons to make me laugh. Was it an off week, or finally, after, what, 14 seasons, are they losing their touch?
Hold me!
...that we have to be careful when cracking jokes about teleportation so that Mr. B (The Big Big Boss) doesn't overhear us. Uncle Chuckie and I almost got in trouble for that today.
Normally, when caller ID reveals that a telemarketer is on the other end of the line, I let the call go. But "American Marketing Concepts" has been calling rather a lot, so I figured, maybe if I took the call and got it over with, they would leave me in peace.
"Hello, Mrs. Lee?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm an annoying telemarketer, blah blah blah, calling on behalf of Mothers Against Drunk Driving, not soliciting donations, blah blah, an estimated ? number of people are killed every so often by drunk drivers. Don't you agree that's a shame?"
"No, not really. There's too many people around here any way."
Pause. "Oh. Okay, well, we're selling magazine subscriptions, blah blah, portion of the proceeds yada yada yada. So, how many magazines can I get you to subscribe to?"
"None. I don't know how to read."
Oh. Well, have a nice day."
Click.
Granted, my technique needs a little polish, but I was satisfied with the results.
Looks like the whole Buddy Christ (From the K. Smith film "Dogma") concept might have been onto something. Allow me to present to you - Huggy Jesus!!
In addition to being the Son of God, He is also "Collectable, Soft and cuddly, Hypoallergenic, Machine washable!" (Or is He the Son of Man? I get that confused.)
Personally, I need a little bit of distance between myself and the Savior TM. I was glad when I heard that Mel Gibson wasn't going to portray Jesus in his dead language motif film. Christ should be neither huggy nor overly handsome. That's why Buddy Christ even makes me feel a little uneasy.
This reminds me of the time the Sinister Posse went to an SCA event at a church in Sarasota. In the church's hall, there was this soft sculpture crucified Jesus with no eyes. Imagine if you will, a Cabbage Patch Jesus - with no eyes. Creepy!
Darren knew I couldn't resist this one!
I wonder if someone has written that quiz. I also wonder if I like the Pre-Raphaelites because I was exposed to them early. My father had this painting in his office when he was in private practice. He was a psychologist.
I bought a print of the next one while at college. It's framed and in my bedroom. I identified with her being all tangled up in her loom. One of the lesser-seen Lady of Shallot paintings:
Or maybe I just like the Pre-Raphaelites because they were damn good painters.
Stupid Florida weather - it's supposed to get up to 78 degrees today. How am I supposed to get into the Christmas spirit when it's that hot outside? I can't wear sweaters, it's too hot for hot chocolate...hrumph.
I have experienced a white Christmas in Florida; Jacksonville, 1989. Mom was miserable, I was ecstatic. I'll have to see if I can find the pictures I took of snow on the palm trees.
Dear Blog,
Gotta give a shout out to Sid, who had us over for a fabulous Yule dinner Saturday. I brought Cold Duck and a big salad. A good time was had by all.
We had dinner with Jeff's parents Friday night. They are incredibly nice and good people; I could do worse for in-laws, I know from experience. Anyway, I was a very bad daughter-in-law; when Jeff's dad remarked (as he ALWAYS does, every SINGLE time they come to visit us) on how much he admires the illuminated street signs on major intersections, I laughed. I laughed because Jeff and I had discussed whether or not the lighted street signs would be mentioned yet again. Mr. Lee seemed not to notice, so hopefully Karma won't come looking for me for that one. For additional humorous things Mr. Lee said, please see Jeff's blog.
I got two more Cow Parade cows. Jeff was gifted with yet another daily desk calendar, this one was Fox Trot. It occurs to me, as he seems to get rather a lot of desk calendars, that Jeff IS hard to buy gifts for. I scored a coup d' etat this year in terms of gifts for him, but since he reads this I'm not telling what I got him. As a public service, here is a brief list of what to get him if you find yourself in a "What to buy Jeff?" quandry:
Interesting T-shirts. That way I can get rid of all those New Mexico shirts he has.
Gift certificates to Best Buy, or any place where DVDs are sold. This will help him with his goal to buy every single DVD out on the market.
Guitar strings, specifically classical ones. If you know where to get them (I don't) you could get him lute strings.
Vellum. I think he's out of that.
Unusual beverages, such as Moxie.
Mint M&Ms, or white chocolate. Oh, wait, that's something to buy me.
Simpsons stuff. That way I can make use of it too.
Sincerely,
Your Shopping consultant
We are scheduling next year's Chuck-aPalooza. Since he is very spoiled, Chuckie likes to treat himself by going to Europe for a whole month right before his electrical engineering extravaganza. So, based on his vacation schedule and trade show tour of duty, it looks like Chuck-a-Palooza will be the last weekend in October. Hopefully I won't be too frazzled to enjoy my favorite holiday.
In other Chuckie news, if you're wondering why I haven't been posting any of his antics, it's because he's writing another presentation/paper, which means, as soon as he gives that to me, I'll have stories to tell. I could tell you about the last phone conversation we had, when he was up in Canada:
"Hi, Uncle Chuck! How's things?"
"It's so cold up here and I'm exhausted! Did you get my e-mail?"
"Nope."
"Are you sure? I sent it yesterday."
"Yes, I'm sure, I'm in front of my computer and my e-mail is up and running."
(Repeat the "did you get my e-mail" portion of our conversation several times.)
"I always have problems e-mailing attachments from this place."
"Why? You're just in Canada."
The rest of the conversation was him telling me to log onto the network as him, of course that didn't work since he has '98 and I have 2000, then he tells me that he's trying to e-mail me a copy of an acceptance letter he got from some magazine, approving one of his papers for publication. And could I go and tell the VP of Marketing? And then he had the identical conversation with Linda the Admin. Asst.
I do like Uncle Chuckie, but, like most people's uncles, he can get a little loopy sometimes. It's almost too quiet when he's not in the office. The upside to that (besides getting more work done for other engineers) is that I can always hide in his very messy office. The chief benefit being, since he has one of those new-fangled doors, I can get a bit of peace and quiet. Very handy when I need to do something like call a doctor's office and I don't want to broadcast the conversation. Or just hide from everyone for five minutes. I call it Uncle Chuckie's Fortress of Solitude. He even has a window!
Helpful Hint #1: Don't bother to call a sports radio station to say that Warren Sapp is a poor role model for our youth because he spits chewing tobacco on the floor. First of all - he's Warren Sapp, for cryin' out loud! He got busted for smoking pot in college! What do you expect, an angel? Second of all, didn't we decide that professional atheletes weren't the best role models to choose for kids? Third of all...quit whining on sports radio!!
Helpful hint #2: If you decide to change a major document that has to be printed and shipped out to at least a hundred places, and it has to go out before January first...how's about making those changes sometime before the day the document is scheduled to be printed?
"America's Best Clown?" Is there even such a thing? Isn't that like saying, "France's Best Mime?" This guy's somewhat disturbing image is on billboards all over town:
At first I thought that Ringling Bros. had hired a demented freak to be the ringmaster for the circus this year. But it turns out he's Bello, America's Best Clown, as voted by Time magazine. Don't they have more important things to do, like figure out who's the sexiest person alive?
But then it hit me: Bello is the evil twin of...
The Slim Jim Guy! Who is "agile, athletic and full of fun" - in my book, anyway.
Huh? What's "self-comfort"? It sounds a little rude. And I don't like the idea of prostitutes being involved with my "inner Goddess". Courtesans of Renaissance Venice, maybe.
What's with all the naughtiness on my quiz results?
I wanted to get gussied up for Sid's Yule party, so I hauled out my curling iron and went to work on my hair. Since it's been several years since I've curled my hair, I, without thinking, curled my bangs. "Ack! I've given myself Bettie Page bangs!" I exclaimed, and tried to undo the effect, to little avail. The fact that my hair is a shade darker these days didn't help either.
This was the least naughty picture I could find of Miss Page, by the way. At least now I have a potential Halloween costume to work on, if I feel extremely daring. Bettie Page bangs are better than Bette Davis eyes, wouldn't you say?
I was going to hold off on posting any more quizzes this week, but I couldn't help myself when I ran across this one.
"You are Mike. The smoothie of the crew. You make up for style what you lack in height. You know everyone and always find a way out of doing any actual work. You brag about being a wonder with the ladies but actually they just ignore you. Oh well at least the others listen to you."
This is in honor of Lisa's recent acquisition of "The Young Ones" DVD set.
Happy December 25 to all my friends. Here's wishing you all the things that this holiday should be about - presents.
No, not presents! I was quoting South Park. Here's wishing you time with family members that you like, good friends, good food, good times. I'm up at Mom's having a nice time, except for the fact that she's on AOL and has a dial-up connection. Man, AOL does funny things to this page.
(Okay, okay - I wish you good presents, too.)
