This is not a boating accident.

Goodbye Blogger

2006-11-06T11:00:00.000-08:00

And now, the end is near, and so I face, the final curtain.
My friend, I'll say it clear,
I'll state my case, of which I'm certain.
I've lived a life that's full, I've traveled each and every highway.
And more, much more than this,
I did it my way.

Regrets, I've had a few, but then again, too few to mention.
I did, what I had to do, and saw it through, without exemption.
I planned, each charted course, each careful step, along the byway,
and more, much more than this,
I did it my way.

Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew,
When I bit off, more than I could chew.
But through it all, when there was doubt,
I ate it up, and spit it out.
I faced it all, and I stood tall,
and did it my way.

I've loved, I've laughed and cried,
I've had my fill; my share of losing.
And now, as tears subside, I find it all so amusing.
To think, I did all that, and may I say --- not in a shy way,
"Oh no, oh no not me,
I did it my way".

For what is a girl, what has she got?
If not herself, then she has naught.
To say the things, she truly feels,
And not the words, of one who kneels.
The record shows, I took the blows
And did it my way.
I did it my way.

Happy Halloween

2006-10-31T12:17:00.000-08:00

Have fun. Beware the hounds of Hell. Oh, and if a stranger gives you some candy, you should totally try it.

Well, Hello, Kitty.

2006-10-24T11:09:00.000-07:00

You knew there wasn't much out there that couldn't be, or hadn't yet been emblazoned with the familiar, cheerful, pink kitty cartoon theme. Clothing, toys, appliances, furniture, cookware, cars, musical instruments. Nothing is off limits. Nothing.

I thought they'd gone too far (not really) when they made the Hello-Kitty vibrator. But NOW you can get legally married by Hello Kitty and all her friends in the land that reality forgot.

Holy crap it's SANRIO LAND
http://www.puroland.co.jp/spl/english/welcome.html

Yes.

Why I Don't Even Read My Work Email Anymore

2006-10-23T11:24:00.000-07:00

Forwarded to me from Irene:

Hello Branch Administrators,

This email is to remind you (again) that I will need everyone's RSVP lists for the All Company Meeting by 10:00 am on October 26. If you complete your list earlier please email them to me. Carolyn from Portland Heights has already completed her list and emailed it to me - Good job Carolyn.

My reply:

Hello Annoying Reminder Lady,

This email is to remind you (again) that any and all emails relating to Company Meetings are to be sent to Cameron, not Irene. Derek at Branch Support has already corrected this same problem concerning supply orders and has been emailing all notification to Cameron - Good job Derek.

How to Embarass Your Dog on Halloween

2006-10-10T12:50:00.000-07:00

Buzz who?? Whatever. Just point me in the direction of the kibble.

If this thing glows in the dark, I'm ruining the rug.

If I had any dignity left I would ask for some hotpants.

In my mind I'm biting you as hard as I can.

Help.

Oh crap, it's Dog the Bounty Hunter. Now that's embarassing for everyone.

This dog's costume is called 'Crazy Face.' He wears it every day.

Sigh

2006-10-09T14:43:00.000-07:00

Today I’m advocating the Nokia 6103. Because mine spent the night outside, in the driveway. I’m pretty sure it got rained on too. But it’s totally fine. You would never know I just left it lying there in the gravel.

It took forever to get to work this morning. I actually got to listen to most of a CD. The only time I ever listen to music is in my truck. Unless I'm practicing Christmas songs on my guitar in the living room. Which has a very calming effect, by the way. I just wish Christmas songs had better lyrics.

I'm becoming less defined
As days go by
Fading away
Well you might say
I'm losing focus
Kind of drifting into the abstract
in terms of how I see myself

I've traded in my glasses for a pair of contact lenses that I can barely tolerate. My doctor says it’s all in my head, but how could you not feel something stuck on the front of your eyeball? I have to admit though, my vision is amazing with them in. I haven’t decided if it’s worth it or not yet. I sort of miss the blur.

Sometimes I think I can see right through myself
Sometimes I think I can see right through myself
Sometimes I think I can see right through myself

I read Franz Kafka’s Metamorphosis, which I only knew about because of an animated rock-opera I saw on cartoon network. Now I’m reading Get in the Van by Henry Rollins.

Less concerned about fitting into the world
Your world that is
Because it doesn't really matter
None of this really matters anymore

I’m still waiting on that promotion I was promised. Somehow I’ve become responsible for so much of what happens around here, and the people who were once thrilled that I could do two things at once, now cop attitudes if I fail to read their minds. I’ve found that if I don’t respond when people talk to me, they just keep talking. Burned out is pretty close to describing the feeling that I have.

Yes I am alone
But then again I always was
As far back as I can tell
I think maybe it's because
You were never really real to begin with
I just made you up to hurt myself
And it worked.
Yes it did.

I spent the morning of my birthday getting my driver’s license renewed at the DMV. After waiting for an hour, I finally got hassled by the enormously intimidating woman behind the counter, who freaked me out so bad I managed to misspell my own name on the electronic signature tablet just in time for her to take an awful photo of me. If my new license doesn’t get ‘lost’ before then, I will get to do it all again in 2014.

There is no you there is only me
There is no you there is only me
There is no you there is only me

And there is Halloween, when I get to be something else.
Thank goodness for Halloween.

A Unicorn's Forest

2006-09-25T15:10:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, Troy and Noodle and I visited the redwood forests and beaches along the coast of Northern California. Or should I say, the State of Jefferson. I wish I was still there. I told Troy that it felt like a place unicorns would live - nothing short of magical.

Here are some photos from the trip:

Space Fashion

2006-09-20T09:29:00.000-07:00

After watching a particularly awful sci-fi movie the other day, Troy turned to me and said: "You know what I'm not looking forward to about the future? Tunics."

It's true. According to movies and television, tunics are pretty much an essential for futuristic space adventuring. However, upon opening up a couple of catalogs I got in the mail this week, I discovered that the future is in fact, already upon us. HERE and NOW.

Sorry sweetheart.

The Power of Negative Thought

2006-09-07T15:00:00.000-07:00

As seems to be the bane of my existence, I inherited some sucktacular neighbors when I moved into my new house. Honestly, I don’t know how other people put up with this stuff, because it makes me crazy. These neighbors are the only people on the (otherwise lovely) block to have 4,5 and sometimes 6 or 7 cars coming and going and stopping and parking in front of their house all day and night. And these are some of the shittiest, loudest, piece-of-crappiest cars ever. Well, what better to do with a crappy, loud-ass car than drive up and down the street at all hours? Oh, I know, work on it with hydraulic tools in your garage at 2 in the morning. That's nice too.

There is one guy in particular who frequents our neighbor's home, and his truck is by far the most obnoxious monstrosity in the whole neighborhood. It’s outfitted with a special muffler designed specifically for rattling the windows of houses up to 3 miles away, and boy does he enjoy reving the engine up and peeling out at every opportunity. Which, as we’ve become painfully aware, is all the freakin’ time. He drives the two blocks from his house to our neighbor’s house, where they get into heated, expletive riddled arguments with each other in the driveway. Then he drives back home. Then he comes back. Then they both drive to the convienience store (which is literally, a stone’s throw away) and then they drive back to the house where he lets his truck idle (read: rumble like an earthquake) for 20 minutes or so before he peels out and goes back home again. Wash, rinse, repeat.

It was when they started using my driveway as a turn-a-round/drop-off point that I decided I’d had enough. Get the fuck out of my driveway, asshole.

Of course I’m way too intimidated to approach him in person. So I imagined all the possible satisfaction-yeilding solutions to the problem of the rude guy in the loud truck. I considered fencing and gating my property. Nope, too expensive. I thought about installing a spike strip in the driveway. Naw, I can't be trusted not to damage my own car that way. Potato in the tail pipe? Not permanent enough. Um... sugar in the gas tank?

Yes. Sugar. In. The. Gas. Tank.

I wanted to do this SO badly. I fantasized about doing this. I got butterflies in my stomach when I was woken up at 4:30am by (what else!) neighbor guy's car, and almost got up right then to make it so.

And then, miraculously – a “House For Rent” sign went up next door. They're renters. And oh my god, they’re leaving. All of them! Neighbor guy, neighbor guy’s shitty-car driving friends, neighbor guy’s gross girlfriend, and best of all – loud truck guy won’t be coming to visit anymore. Hallelujah! Had my concentrated hate been enough to make it happen? Could it be possible I’d driven them out with my negative thoughts?

Well, it gets better. Since neighbor guy packed up his shit, I haven’t seen loud truck guy anywhere. Not even up the street at his own house. His truck is... gone. Not at the convienience store, not peeling out around the neighborhood, not turning around in my driveway... It’s just gone. I mentally ruined his truck with virtual sugar. I’m convinced.
I am awesome.

School of Fish

2006-09-06T16:12:00.000-07:00

There's an elementary school near my house that displays an array of painted wooden fish-shaped placards on its perimeter fence. There are hundreds of them, all different, and all "swimming" in the same direction. Troy and I call it the Fish School. But it wasn't until the other day when I was actually walking by (with my camera) and got a closer look at the individual designs, that I came to fully appreciate these student-painted art peices. Have a look.

Stars and Clouds

This kid's mom is a palm reader.

I Love Hearts

Even the eye is a heart. Way to maintain a theme.

Eyelashes

This fish is clearly female. Or a drag queen.

Air Fish

I imagine this one was painted by a boy. Who has yet to be informed that the whole Micheal Jordan craze of 1997 is pretty much over.

I Love America/Starwars

Awesome. Luke and Darth Vader go at it with light sabers for America, while C3PO looks on.

Despair

The Goth Fish. My favorite.

Deep

Ooooh... Fish on a fish. How profound.

Diver

A variation of the fish-on-a-fish theme. This one was cool up close, it's a silouette of a diver in an ocean/outerspace landscape. A jellyfish is the eye! Watch out diver dude!

Realism

Hey, it's a Clown Triggerfish! Very nice.

More Realism

Rainbow Trout!

Whatever Gets the Point Across

The same Rainbow Trout, as interpreted by another student.

If I went to this school, I would need about 10 wooden fish. One to paint as a shark, and nine others to break into peices, paint red, and scatter around the scene of the 'feeding frenzy.'

Or more likely, I would use up the art department's entire supply of glitter recreating a scene from Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat where all the characters have been replaced with mackeral.

Or perhaps I'd paint a Mullet, sporting a mullet.

Or a Noodle-fish.

The possibilites are endless.

Reebs Reincarnated

2006-09-06T10:52:00.000-07:00

Not that she died or anything. But if she did, I've met the person she would come back as. And guess what? She works in the office right next to the front desk. How appropriate.

The new Reebs is obnoxious, moody, invasive, and she has a medical condition that requires her to eat between 3 and 5 aromatic TV dinners every goddamn day. The whole office smells like microwaved sausage. And when she isn't talking about how horrible and bratty her kids are, she's talking about how horrible and bratty her kids are. It never stops. She can redirect any conversation (that she's managed to interrupt) to be about the one time her son smeared peanut butter all over his naked body right before she had to take him to daycare.

We really wanted to picture that. Thanks Donyelle.

That's not actually her name. But try telling that to her 84 year old best friend. Yes, she's adopted Harmonica Man. The little old neighborhood guy that everyone thinks is really sweet and funny until you can't get away from him and you suddenly realize the 'conversation' you've been having is really a sales pitch for his self-produced harmonica album and you've just inadvertantly agreed to buy one. He's mostly harmless. Unless you count those contaminated warm tootsie rolls he leaves on my desk when he comes to talk Donyelle's ear off. Which is every goddamned day.

Is Donyelle here?
Yep. You can see her in her office if you look through the window.
What?
Yes. She's in there, see?
Can I go in?
I don't know, why don't you knock on the door?
Eh?
Just knock on the door
What?
JUST GO IN!!
Oh, I see her. (sings) Everybody loves somebody... sometime...

Last week he was in there for two and a half hours. Then they went to coffee. Then they went to lunch. I'm pretty sure she has several copies of all his albums.
When does she work I wonder? Oh that's right - she doesn't. It would be pretty difficult seeing as how she doesn't have ANY clients, and all her phone calls are from her sisters. How do I know? Because Donyelle wanders through the office all day long talking to them on her wireless headset, going on about the latest travesty involving a 4 year old and a jar of jam. She stands right in front of my desk, or sometimes, right behind me shouting "Yes! Naked! He was naked, and sitting right in the middle of my bed with blackberry preserves all over his face. Can you believe that!? I've got to stop letting him climb on the counter."

And those are her good days. Sometimes, she's in such a terrible mood she just locks herself in her office, cranks up some horn-screaching jazz music, microwaves a salsbury steak dinner and refuses to take any calls or visitors. I'm left trying to divert harmonica man from performing "you are my sunshine" for a conference room full of someone's clients, while placating her callers with "She's here, but she's unable to come to the phone at the moment." It never works.
"Why? What's she doing?" they ask.
"I don't know." I say. "If I had to guess I'd say she's meditating on something her son did one time. Call back in an hour."

Earlier this week she even brought her kids to the office.
Guess how that went.

When Amphibians Come to Visit

2006-08-28T14:17:00.001-07:00

In case I hadn't fully realized the extent of the moisture issue in the basement...
Troy found a salamander down there today.

Yep. I'd say it's a little damp in the cellar.

I was slightly freaked out when I heard about it because the only salamanders I've ever seen are the ones that are found primarily IN the water. I was picturing a little creek and some ferns growing next to the washer and dryer... But as it turns out there isn't any standing water downstairs, and this particular critter is a Western Red-Backed salamander, who do the majority of their salamandering on the land. I imagine the cool, dark basement was pretty inviting considering how hot it was outside today. Sal was probably just looking for a little respite.
But still.
I'll be cranking up the dehumidifier to "very dry" tonight.

I wonder how he got in there?
And perhaps more importantly - where did he go? He was MIA by the time I got home for lunch. Oh well. As long as he's not showing any giant spiders the way in, I think it'll be ok.

Then again, maybe the basement has nothing to do with it at all. Maybe woodland creatures are just naturally drawn to me for some reason. Ask me some time about the day I discovered a snake in the air duct, or the time I found a live crawdad on top of my car, in the parking lot at Safeway.

(Update: Later that night Sal reappeared, and I was able to capture and release him into the wilds of a forested park near my house. Hooray!)

Under New Management

2006-08-18T12:24:00.000-07:00

As I've mentioned before, I just love when the agents bring their kids to the office. And then leave them to pester me while they go to work, apparently in a sound-proof room where they can't hear the shrieking and the giggling and the crying. Hello? Am I not also working? No, no I'm not. Not when your 7 year old is climbing up my legs, attempting to slap me in the face and then laughing like crazy while I'm trying to take a call from a potential client. Yeah. I love that. It's really great for business.

You know the type. Real cute and innocent at first, but once mom is out of the picture, the kid turns into some kind of diabolical ninja monkey, who can think of nothing more entertaining than causing me physical pain.

When I pleaded with my petite charge to please be quiet and PLEASE, please stop beating me up, the little terror came right out and demanded a bribe.

"Ok." She said, "Do you have any money? Give me twenty-five cents."

Feeling like this was actually a pretty good deal, I searched all over my desk for a quarter. No luck.

"Crap! I don't have any change."

"Well, where's your wallet?"

"I'm not telling you. But I only have $20's anyway."

"Yeah!"

"No, you're not getting my wallet. Ow! Tell you what. I'll give you... the office. This entire office is yours. Congratulations, now leave me alone."

"The office is mine? Cool."

She stopped pinching my arm and went off to draw on some star-shaped paper. I figured she was satisfied with our little 'deal.' However, when I came back to my desk a few minutes later, I found a thumbtack on my chair, and this stuck to my computer monitor:

Evidently, I've been 'kikt' out of my own workplace.
Fine by me.

Speaking of finding notes on my desk, The Post-It Gallery has been updated.

Happy Friday!

Link Day

2006-08-14T23:06:00.000-07:00

Train Car Murals, A.K.A., 'Graffiti'

Also, the Museum of Bad Art

And, Flash Fighters animation

And last but not least, The Continuing Misfortunes of Simple Graphics Man

Vacation Photos

2006-08-09T10:16:00.000-07:00

As a true testiment to the fact that there are just WAY too many people in the world these days, I came back to work to discover that one of the new agents at the office knew exactly where our little remote, primitive, cabin in (the middle-of-nowhere) woods was - because he had floated by it during a rafting trip. More than once.

Aargh. So much for 'getting away.'

Anyway, here is photographic evidence that I was there.

Once you reach the end of the 'road' (dry creek-bed full of boulders bordering a steep drop into the river canyon) you'll see this and know you've arrived at last. Here T'is.

The large set of horns, I was told, were found years ago washed up along the edge of the river. Evidently Elk aren't always the best swimmers. The other horns are from deer who were ruthlessly massacred with bullets.

The view from the porch. Judging by the position of the sun (which is how you tell time at the cabin) it's about 7:30am. What the heck am I doing up so early!?

Anytime of day is a good time to catch fish. Especially if you are a master fly-fisherman like my Dad, pictured here with his assistant, Gilly.

And there's Noodle! She is on the sandbar with my nephew, waiting for someone to throw a stick. Or a ball. Or something.

Aunt Cami was happy to help facilitate that. Little D. reaches for a stick to toss to the eagerly awaiting dogs.

We swam a lot. Noodle wouldn't let me go out too deep, she kept wanting to sit in my lap and keep me close to shore. Life Guard dog!

Playing la guitarra on the porch. The audience goes wild.

We also hiked up to Bear Lake, which is in an alpine area previously ravaged by forest fires. It's eerily quiet up there.

Again with the stick fetching.

Troy takes a mountain-top siesta

Back at camp, there's a place for everyone.

This was on the door of a neighboring cabin. I thought it was hilarious. "Love, Sue."

I built an Inukok (Semblance of Man) on the river bank - inspired by 'People of the Deer,' a Farley Mowat book I read while I was there. Rock Man got a lot of 'touchdown' jokes.

The ultimate happy camper. I had to cut myself and Troy out of this photo because we look like... well, like we've been living in the woods for a week.

And of course you know what the drive home was like. I was probably just grumpy because someone was hogging my pillow.

Did You Miss Me?

2006-08-07T11:19:00.000-07:00

I'm back! Back from 9 days of camping, swimming, fishing, napping, eating, and generally just lazing around a cabin in the woods of Northern Idaho. I feel very refreshed. Pictures will be up shortly. They'll be a lot like last September's post "99 Photos Of Noodle in the Woods" only, with more Noodle. And more people. And a different body of water.

Now, while the vacation itself was supremely relaxing, I can’t say the same for the 13 hour drive home in the crowded cab of my parent’s new truck. With my parents. With my mom, who felt the need (in her innocent, well-meaning, totally annoying way) to give a running commentary of the entire drive home.

We couldn't agree on a CD or radio station to listen to, so it was just road noise and Mom the whole way. She told stories we had heard already. She asked irrelevant questions and answered them with her own irrelevant speculation. “Wow, those trees are really close together, aren’t they? I bet you couldn’t even walk between them! I don’t think you could even walk between those trees, they’re so close together.”

She talked incessantly, reading every road sign, pointing out all of the obvious landmarks and places of interest, narrating each turn and straightaway. With Mom in the car, you can’t be alone with your own thoughts for 30 seconds without hearing “Oh look, we’re in Mulino. Moo-LINE-oh.” And “Only 280 miles to Portland!”

The rest of us would sit in silence wondering who exactly she was talking to, since we could all read the road signs for our damn selves. We could not escape the road signs. Anyone who has ever ridden in a car before KNOWS there's not much else to look at BESIDES the road signs and things immediately bordering the ROAD. But before any of us could even consider a response, she’d be off again with “That guy's hauling a boat” and “There’s the Char Burger restaurant.”

Yes, Mom. There it is.

My Dad, doing all he could do to get us there already, was eventually pulled over by a state cop for speeding. “Don’t say anything” he instructed Mom, who was in the passenger seat, already going off about how speed laws are different for passing lanes and didn’t the cop know that. “Ok.” She said, folding her hands in her lap and looking like she might actually be quiet for once. The officer approached the driver’s side window.

“Hello sir. I stopped you because you were doing 77 in a 65.”

“...passing lane??" Mom whispered from her side of the car, with her hand over her mouth, as though to fool the officer into thinking someone else had said it.

“Well the car you passed was going 64, so that’s not really an excuse.” He replied, before explaining how the radar gun works and how there’s really no need to make exuses at all when you’ve been caught speeding, passing lane or no. “Just say Oops and Sorry” He instructed my Dad, who said “Oops. Soory” (Canadian for sorry.)

“I’ll be right back with your license” said the cop, turning to go back to his car. Before he had even taken 2 steps, my mom, ever the trouble-maker, piped up again with “Well, he’s a cocky little bastard, isn’t he!?”

Mind you, ALL the windows on the truck were open.
“Mom!” I hissed, “Hey!” my Dad scolded, “Holy F-ing Christ!” Troy exclaimed.

Fortunately, the cop (who was actually being very polite) didn’t hear any of it. Or at least, he didn’t let on that he had. And since my Dad apologized (and doesn’t have any outstanding warrants) we were even let go without a ticket.

When Mom tells the story now (I had to hear it twice just on the way home) the speeds of my Dad and the woman he was passing (in the passing lane!) have been changed, and she refers to my Dad as a ‘Scoff-Law.’ Of course, there is no reference to the fact the she almost got us all in serious trouble. I mean, I really had to restrain myself from killing her when she started filing her nails. As loud as possible.

Shhhhk-shhhk. Shhhhk. Shhhhhhhhkkk. Shhhk-a shhhhk-a. “Oh look Cam, horses. Is that one a Paint? I think that one’s a Paint. Do you see them Cam? The horses? Hey, there’s a Toyota Prius.” Shhhhhhk-a. Shhhhhk.

13 hours.

I may need another vacation. Especially considering some of the agents at my office didn't even realize I was gone. Those cocky little bastards.

Gone Fishin'

2006-07-27T16:56:00.000-07:00

Come back in a week.
That's what I'm gonna do.
Yay vacation!

Best Monday EVER

2006-07-25T16:54:00.000-07:00

I was the first one to arrive at the office Monday morning. I unlocked the door, turned on the lights, and immediately noticed that an alarm was going off. It wasn't the regular alarm, to which I have a code for disarming. No, it was a much higher pitched alarm, going off in our server room behind a locked door.

Huh.
That's nice.
I wonder what it means?

I found the key to the server room, went in and... yep. That's a really loud alarm. I could not figure out where exactly it was coming from, or how to get it to stop. I pushed buttons, unplugged things, flipped switches. Nothing happened.

Then the agents arrived. "What's that sound?!" They all asked me.
Then the phone began to ring. And ring and ring and ring and ring and ring.

I soon realized that I was unable to transfer calls. Our phone system was all out of whack, and had been all weekend. Everybody decided to call at the same time to ask me if the phones had been fixed. ALL the lines were busy, there was a stupid alarm going off, and I couldn't transfer calls.

I went to the computer to see if I could email the tech department an S.O.S.

No internet. Page not found. Cannot detect server.

"What's that alarm Cameron?"
"Hey - I can't access my voicemail!"
"RING-RING!"
"Can you shut that noise off!?"
"Why doesn't the internet work?"
"RING-RING"
"All I'm getting is a busy signal!"
"Hey, is our server down?"
"RING-RING!"

I ran away to try and find the source of the alarm again. That's when I realized that over the weekend, A CAR HAD CRASHED INTO THE BUILDING. Glass everywhere. Broken bricks. The driver had taken out two parking signs and a tree before launching her Celica through our floor to ceiling windows, spraying the office with glittering shards of glass.

This had caused our power to go out.
And our phone lines to go down.
And our server to shut off.
And our back-up server was blaring its discontent at having a dead battery.
I got to tell this story about a billion times that day.

Whee!! Just when I thought I was getting bored with my job.

Oh, wait...

Nope.

Still bored.

Photographic Trickery

2006-07-21T14:59:00.000-07:00

Is fun!

Even crafty little 12 year olds in 1917 England could do it. Fakers!

More from the Museum of Hoaxes

I'm Not Here

2006-07-18T21:03:00.000-07:00

This conversation happened on the phone at work yesterday:

"Good morning, X Real Estate, this is Cameron."

"Who? What is this?"

"X Real Estate. My name is Cameron. How can I help you?"

"Oh. I was referred by The Housing."

"... The Housing?"

"Yeah"

"... I'm sorry, what does that mean?"

"What?"

"What does that mean? The Housing?"

"They gave me your number"

"Ok... What can I do for you?"

"They told me I should call you"

"Um... are you looking to buy or sell a house?"

"Yeah"

"Oh. Ok. And are you working with a realtor?"

"A what?"

"A realtor"

"You're a realtor?"

"No. I'm the receptionist. Are you currently working with a realtor?"

"That's why I called."

"... Ma'am, that doesn't answer my question."

"I dunno, they just told me to call you"

"Do you need a realtor to help you find a house?"

"Yeah"

"Ok, let me transfer you to our broker. She will select someone from our office to work with you."

"Aren't you going to help me?"

"Not if you are unable to communicate and don’t even know why you’re calling ma'am. Please hold while I make the transfer."

Luckily, I'm not fired. In fact, stay tuned for an upcoming post called "Promotion! What Happens When You Slack Off Enough at a Job You're Getting Sick Of"

Not Rocket Science. But Close.

2006-07-14T11:47:00.000-07:00

My ad:

Pet-Sitter Needed for Parakeet
"I'll be gone on vacation from July 29th through August 6th and need a bird-experienced, caring and responsible pet sitter to look after my Budgie parakeet in your home. He is sociable and tame and not much trouble at all. He does like to come out of his cage and fly around/sit on your shoulder, so please no homes with cats or bird-aggressive dogs! Please email me with your location and rates."

The response I got:

"Good Day I am Valeta and i live in West Linn and do pet setting. I would be glad to care for your baby in my home I have three cats and two dogs. I would be glad to speak with you about this for the 11 days you are gone I would care for you baby here for $80. If that sounds like something you would like to talk to me about give me call at xxx-xxxx."

So, I'm pretty sure this woman thinks I need someone to look after an actual baby... because $80!? I doubt this is the going rate for 'pet-setting' a half ounce Budgie who requires little more than the husks blown off his seed dish every couple of days. Even if I was going to be gone for 11 days (it's actually only 9) I would not expect to pay near that much. Especially if there are three cats and two dogs in the house waiting around to eat my bird. He gets harassed enough by Noodle as it is, he deserves a break! Which is precisely why I said NO CATS OR DOGS!! Duh.
Moving on.

Here is another response:

"if you cant find anyone to bird sit.my name is donna from keizer I would bird sit for you my phone number is xxx-xxxx.I have sevral bird myself.2 macaws 2 cockatoo, 4 cockatiels and 4 ringneck parakeets....."

So you've heard of the crazy cat lady... I can't help but think that my poor little birdie would be scared to death of 2 giant Macaws! I mean, he's afraid of the fake parrot-on-a-perch decoration I have hanging on the front porch. Plus, ok, how about the quarantine period veterinarians and exotic bird specialists recommend for introducing a new avian friend to the household? I don't know if her birds have diseases my bird could catch, or vice versa, or if they might just try to kill each other or something. And that makes me uncomfortable. Even more so than the atrocious grammar.

Here's another:

"If you can't find anyone, I can do it for $25.00
I have 3 myself. And two small minpins."

First all, who the hell are you, what are your credentials, and where do you live? $25 sounds like a good deal to me, but not if I have to drive all the way across town to find out that you are an out-of-work taxidermist. And again with the multiple birds (or personalities?) and the dogs (I'm assuming) I specifically mentioned I didn't want around my pet. PLEASE BE ABLE TO READ AND UNDERSTAND ENGLISH BEFORE REPLYING TO THE POST!

And last but not least:

"Hi my name is Jason and I would love to pet sit your budgie. I am a pet sitter and I work with a lot of different animals. I have expeirence with Parakeets and I really like them. I can work with you for a very low rate. Please call me if you are still looking for a sitter! My number is xxx-xxxx."

Ok, good... sounds sincere.. mentions experience... minimal spelling errors.. But oh! No location and no price! He got so excited to give me his phone number he probably just forgot to mention that he lives in Timbuktu and wants a pint of my blood as payment. Just TELL me dude, don't make me call you. Don't these people know how much I hate talking on the phone? Maybe I should have put that in the ad. Not like anyone would have paid attention. I kinda thought it was covered in the "please email" portion of the post and the fact that I did not include my phone number anywhere in the text. *Sigh*

I am such a curmudgeon. Really, I'm awful. But this is Bird-Bird we're talking about, and I won't settle for anything less than the best for my little feathered friend, no matter how well-meaning these dumbasses are.

I've been constructing a little fishing pole and sleeping bag for Bird-Bird so he can just come camping with me, because at this point it really seems like less trouble than finding an adequate idiot to pet-sit. We'll see what the weekend brings.

Happy Friday!

There's a Bunny in There Somewhere

2006-07-13T09:56:00.000-07:00

I happened upon this link today. As appalled as I was, I couldn't stop clicking. I thought these only lived under my couch!

Angora Madness

By the way, bitch

2006-07-06T09:19:00.000-07:00

Video Du Jour

Let's get some shoes.

Thanks Jason.

;)

Swaying to the Symphony of Destruction

2006-07-05T09:36:00.000-07:00

It was such a gorgeous day on Monday, that after work I took my guitar out into the backyard to practice playing some songs. There I was, barefoot on the patio, hashing out "Island in the Sun" and enjoying the warm breeze coming through the lilacs and the willow tree behind the house... Beautiful. Then I heard a rustling in the dense undergrowth on the other side of the fence. I continued playing and watched the ground where the rustling was coming from, thinking it was some cute little sparrow flitting about. What finally emerged though, was none other than a very large rat.
It stuck its head out from under the fence, squeezed underneath and made its way along the rock wall at the back of the property, stopping every now and then to sniff and look around. I stopped playing. "No fucking way" I said out loud, to no one. "Holy crap, who's rat is that?!"
As though awakened from a trance, ratty suddenly stopped, turned around, and made a hasty retreat back into the bushes.

This wasn't quite the image I was going for. You know, the one of me, the lovely maiden, sitting in a sunlit forest glen and luring unicorns from the woods with beautiful music while rotund bluebirds weaved colored ribbons through my hair? Yeah, this wasn't it. This was me, mesmerizing a rat with a choppy, out of tune rendition of a mostly unrecognizable "song." I AM the pied piper.

Just for the Record

2006-07-04T11:56:00.000-07:00

Waxing Fucking Hurts.

Mixed Reviews

2006-06-28T12:33:00.000-07:00

While at a garage sale last weekend, a woman asked me if my dog was a Mini Australian Shepherd.” I laughed. “No! Ha ha! Is there such a thing!?”
I think she was offended. “Yes, there is.” She snapped. “And they look just like your dog.”

The internet seems to think there are mini Australian Shepherds out there too, but generally the “mini” label only applies to regular Aussies of somewhat smaller stature (certainly not purse-sized “toy” dogs) and occasionally, various mixed breeds resembling smallish herding-type dogs. The American Kennel Club doesn’t recognize “mini Aussies” as a breed either, so essentially, the woman correctly identified my dog for what she is. A mutt. A Low-Rider Border Collie. A BorderHund. Whatever. It’s certainly not the only time she’s received comments from a stranger. Here are some things people have said about Noodle in the past:

“Is that a puppy?”
“Is that a badger?”
“What is that?”
“That dog has a funny face. Funny face! Funny face!”

Even when I try to answer people’s questions about her, they still don’t seem to get it.

Dumb Lady: “Is that an Aussie puppy?”
Me: “No.”
Dumb Lady: “Yes it is. That’s an Aussie puppy!”

And

Park Guy: “Is that a Corgi?”
Me: “She’s a Border Collie/Daschund mix.”
Park Guy: “Huh... Well maybe that’s how you make a Corgi!”

But my favorite comment of all time has to be from a little 5 year old girl who Noodle and I encountered once on a walk.

“Don’t worry, your Dalmation will get more spots when she gets older.”

While she was a little off on her breed assesment, I was amazed to find out the spots prediction was true! She HAS gotten more spots. Creepy. Anyway, it's just this rampant fascination people seem to have with identifying dog breeds that drives me crazy. And it's all over Craigslist.com too, people attempting to make small fortunes selling "Labradoodles," and "Puggles" and advertising "pure-bread puppys already been spade." What the eff is that? A dog shaped baguette carved with a garden tool? Come on. I don't care if she's a Mongolian Bat-Eared Waghound, or a Lowlands Swamp Spaniel. Noodle is a One Of A Kind! A loving, snuggly, snarfy, herding, shedding, digging, squirrel chasing, beach running, park going, and yes, funny-faced DOG who needed a home. Pedigree or no. And that’s all there is to it. She’s a good girl, and I adore her.

And she could kick the ass of any mini aussie who says otherwise.

;)

Love (among other things) Is In The Air

2006-06-26T11:48:00.000-07:00

My cousin got married last week.
Not last weekend. Last week. As in Wednesday. The Summer Solstice. I guess that’s kinda cool if you’re into that sort of thing. But I doubt too many people are into driving all the way across town on a weekday during rush hour traffic to stand around in a park for 20 minutes trying to figure out just where the hell the ceremony was supposed to be taking place. The invitation only said ‘Under the St. John’s Bridge.’ Here, allow me to illustrate:

What’s that you say? It looks like a third grader made this? I agree. But I didn’t have much time to dwell on the poor construction of the announcement because I didn’t get the damn thing in the mail until the day before the wedding!

I shouldn't be so critical... I mean, I can appreciate that they probably don’t have a lot of money to spend and were so busy with other arrangements that maybe they couldn't get to the post office. Really, the important thing here is that they love each other, not how foofy the invitations are. That’s cool. I get it. But honestly, if you’re going to wait until the last minute, at least let your guests know where the heck you are getting married. Under the bridge is a little vauge don’t you think? Considering it's a huge bridge spanning two distinct banks of the river and that Cathedral Park is many acres in size and largely unmarked. Oh, and I looked all over CitySearch.com for a pub or restaurant called “Ivy’s” which is where I understood the reception to be taking place. It turns out ‘Ivy’ is a person - my cousin's neighbor. But that still doesn’t tell me where she lives... I guess you have to be close friends, or a psychic to figure it out. Luckily, her house wasn’t far from the ceremony (which was indeed directly UNDER the bridge) and we were able to follow a procession of guests to the very earthy garden-of-reception for the newlyweds.

In keeping with my cousin’s effort to save the planet, this was a very Earth-friendly party. Complete with a mud-built sweat lodge, unshaven armpits, and organic, home grown, somewhat difficult to identify multi-ethnic party foods. I stuck with what I considered to be safe: Stawberries, cherries, and assorted garden vegetables.

Guests were seated in circles on blankets laid out on the ground. Some stood awkwardly in the loose straw that was strewn about the yard (seemingly for the sole purpose of causing people to slip and fall.) Although a little untraditional, this I could appreciate too – it was a gorgeous evening, and the picnic-like feel of the reception was fun and different, relaxed and intimate. I had some limeade and ate some more strawberries, as children ran past me, barefoot in the straw, and the sun set over the river.

“Let’s go check out the house!” my sister suggested after we ate. So we did. We walked through the organic gardens, past the chicken coop, and into my cousin’s remodeled city farmhouse. I say remodeled because they removed a perfectly good toilet to install what was little more than a pit in the ground covered by a bench with an ass-shaped hole in the top. “A pot to pee in” another cousin called it. “A composting toilet.” Although, it wasn’t quite that. A composting toilet supposedly can be left to its own devices, so to speak, and needs no... um... emptying. This one, I found out, was shoveled out regularly and used to fertilize the garden.

“I guess that makes sense" a nearby relative commented. “Look how well the roses are doing. Don’t eat the strawberries! Ha ha!”

Too late.

I had unknowingly experienced firsthand the result of gardening with what was being referred to as 'Humanure.' My organic dinner, grown to perfection on nutrients supplied by human dung. Ok. Ok. This too I suppose I can... understand... for the sake of ‘saving’ the river from sewage pollution. But a pit toilet INSIDE the house? Are we camping?? Even if I could get past the idea of having a vat of decomposing waste in my home for environmental purposes, I certainly wouldn’t be digging around in it and spreading it on my plants. Especially after hosting a wedding reception where guest after guest was contaminating whatever organic poo was already in there with their fast-food feces. Oh my god. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.

I think the newlyweds were a little miffed that my family and I left before they served the cake. The homemade cake topped with layer upon layer of fresh picked berries. Gotta go. Congratulations cousin. Please forgive me if I don’t shake your hand.

Thankless Job

2006-06-20T16:22:00.000-07:00

Not really. I do get thanked a lot, mostly for stuff that really merits no thanking. Like, doing my job.
“Thanks for doing your job, Cameron.”
“Um, I get paid for this. But you’re welcome.”

There are some things that I do outside of my job description though, that sometimes go unappreciated. But it’s still pretty entertaining. Yesterday, a very flustered looking agent came up to me and said:

“So, there’s a smell upstairs. Did you know about that?”

“Um... a smell? Like, in the kitchen?”

“Yeah, there’s something really gross rotting in the garbage and it’s stinking the place up. What do we do about that?”

I love it. What do we do about that. Well, probably the same thing you’d do at home if the trash in your kitchen was rotting – take out the garbage!! For crying out loud people!

I volunteered to take out the trash, since evidently, realtor school doesn’t teach you any life skills. The garbage was full of someone’s old nasty salad and some mold covered pints of strawberries. It really wasn’t that bad, but someone had been moved by it enough to open up the patio door so that fresh air could come in. Someone cared enough to prop open the heavy glass door with a chair from the breakroom - but they could not be bothered to get to the heart of the actual problem and remove the garbage itself. I shook my head all the way to the dumpster.

When I came back in, one of our top selling agents was posting a reservation sign on the door of one of the conference rooms. She was wearing a long white skirt with flowers embroidered around the hem. “My client should be here any minute” She told me.

“Linda, I love your skirt!” I said. “But uh... It’s a little sheer don’t you think? I can see totally see your underwear.”

“No you can’t.”

“Yes, I can. Nice thong.”

That’s when her client arrived. I think she may have thought I was joking, because I didn’t hear another thing about it the rest of the day. But I also know that she stayed seated in the conference room the whole time she was in there.

Today I found someone’s wallet in the street in front of our office. It had money in it, credit cards, receipts - everything. Do you know how hard it is to track someone down to let them know you found their wallet? Nobody ever keeps their own phone number in their wallet. At best you have a driver’s license with an address and a name that you can look up in the phone book. This lady wasn’t listed. But she had a library card! I called the library to see if I could get a phone number for this person to let her know I found her wallet. “We can't give out that information” they told me. “It’s to protect against identity theft.”

Ok, maybe you’re not understanding me.

I HAVE her WALLET. If I wanted to steal her identity I would just do it already! I wouldn’t be calling you!!

The DMV said the same thing. They can’t give out personal information, and they’re too busy to notify the person themselves. Call the police they said.

The police? This doesn’t need to involve the police. This is between me, and someone who is probably freaking out right now and tearing their house apart looking for their wallet! Thank goodness for Google. I searched for wallet-lady’s name, and it managed to find her on a local winner’s list for some kind of design contest she had recently won. It had her name, her address, and her freakin’ phone number. Right there on the internet for anyone to view. Or borrow. Or steal.

Feeling like the Good Samaritan of the Day for all my trouble, I dialed her number. “I found your wallet!” I proclaimed “It’s safe and sound! Everything’s still in it!”

“Oh.” She said with absolutely no enthusiasm. “I guess I’ll have to come back over there and get it... Or... Could you maybe mail it me?”

Bitch lives 10 minutes away. Mail it to you? You want me to put your credit cards and cash in the mail?? Just come get your stupid wallet you loser, before I throw it back into the street!!!

“If you could just mail it to me, that’d be great.”

Fuck. It cost me $1.83 to send this woman her stupid IDENTITY that she didn’t even sound like she wanted anymore. And by the way, YOU’RE WELCOME!!! Anyone who maybe hadn’t been through the whole library/DMV experience may have just taken the stupid thing to her. Not me. I seriously considered paying myself a finder’s fee from the cash she had before sealing up the mailing envelope.

I’m going to go back to just doing my regular job now. Getting thanked for distributing faxes is actually kinda nice. Yes, you have a fax. You’re welcome! You’re very, very welcome. Please, hang on to your wallet.

A Boy and His Tong

2006-06-13T12:28:00.000-07:00

For weeks now Troy has been lamenting the loss of a pair of kitchen tongs that have been misplaced and sadly, are no longer with us. They're not really regular tongs, but what Troy calls 'The Spachong' - a stainless steel spatula/fork combo especially useful for turning food. He's spent hours combing the internet looking for a suitable replacement, without much luck. The original Spachong, though affordable back when he bought it, is now advertisted for $130! A price we're unwilling to pay for a untensil. Evidently, the search continues. I got the following email from Troy earlier this week:

I am looking through eBay’s listings of tongs right now... I think I’m on page 11. I wanted to send you a few links to see what you thought.

This one would be a good deal just for the garlic press!

http://cgi.ebay.com/Garlic-press-Wonder-Cup-spatula-tongs

These tongs wouldn’t be very useful for cooking.

http://cgi.ebay.com/WHITE-STRETCH-VINTAGE-TONGS

With this one I’m not sure if you get breast cancer with your order or if your money helps fight breast cancer or what the eff:

http://cgi.ebay.com/PINK-SILICONE-TONGS-BREAST-CANCER

I’m glad we don’t live in the South and so is Noodle I bet:

http://cgi.ebay.com/2-lot-tongs-Snake-Sticks

Australian!

http://cgi.ebay.com/Australian-BBQ-Tongs

Teabag!

http://cgi.ebay.com/TEA-BAG-SQUEEZER-TONGS

Tong tong tong

Row Team Row!

2006-06-13T11:05:00.000-07:00

Here’s a picture from the Dragon Boat races last weekend. That’s me pulling a muscle in my back catching the flag for Lane 1. Normally, I’d be down on the dragon’s teeth, but the flags were floating really high out of the water this year. All those rowers straining and struggling to haul that heavy thing through the river, and I hurt myself grabbing the flag... I’m fine though, really. I went on to catch flag for two more races with no problems. We didn’t win anything, but it was lots of fun, as usual. And the weather was perfect. Like last time, there were some cute and inventive team names.

Scales of Justice (lawyers)
Civil Serpents (more lawyers)
Dragonbytes (computer nerds)
Abreast In A Boat (breast cancer survivors)
The Love Boat (Planned Parenthood)
Miss Fit Dragons (women's team)
Shaggin' Dragon (high school boys)
Sync or Swim
Draggin' Butts
Paddle Me Hard

The Red Cross Team was just called "Red Cross" but their cheer went like this: "What are we? OUT FOR BLOOD! Gooooo Red Cross!!"
I thought it was funny. They encouraged everyone to donate blood after the races.

There were some pretty un-inventive names too. There were Dragon teams to represent every element, Earth, Wind, Water, Fire... Sun Dragons, Golden Dragons, Red Dragons, Green Dragons... Troy thought there should be a team called the Dragon Dragons, just to be totally and completely unimaginative. It's like that episode of Pee Wee's Playhouse, where they make pigs in a blanket, and Pee Wee demonstrates that you can put pretty much any breakfast food in a pancake blanket. "Eggs in a blanket. Jam in a blanket. Blanket in a blanket!!"

Anyway. The Samoan powerhouse team Kai Ikaika destroyed the competition. Again. Those guys are intense.

And now I’m back to my normal job. It feels so... boring. Ordering office supplies and putting the mail away is so overrated. I hate to say it, but I miss the choas of being the transaction coordinator! I want to coordinate something, damnit! There really isn't much for me to do today. The only calls I've gotten this morning are a recorded message from a lady named Trisha who is selling some kind of marketing scheme. “Call me direct to get in on this great offer today!" I’ve been faxing blank pages to her phone number for the last hour. You know she’s loving that high-pitched fax beep in her ear. Just as much as I love answering the phone and hearing a stupid recording.

I guess I'll just sit here quietly and concentrate on Irene retiring.
*sigh*

Mom Wins, Round II

2006-06-09T17:15:00.000-07:00

I am very tired. Not just physically (moving/unpacking) but mentally (moving/unpacking/work.) I’ve been covering for Irene the secretary at my office for the last two weeks. She’s the 'transaction coordinator’ and she decided to take her vacation during the busiest part of the year for real-estate. Which means the agents are turning in loads of transaction and listing paperwork, and I get to deal with it all! Whee! There was supposed to be someone coming in to cover for me at the front desk so that I could focus on Irene’s transaction stuff, but my replacement’s been sick the last few days and I’ve been doing both jobs.

At first I was annoyed because there is just so much to do, and so many interruptions, it’s a little overwhelming. But then once I realized I could actually do both jobs and keep on top of things pretty well... I was kinda excited. I mean, I’ve been coveting Irene’s job (and salary) for some time now. And she just gave me two weeks to prove I can do it just as well as her, if not better, AND with the added responsibility of also being the receptionist. Aw yeah. File this paperwork, bitch! I’m gonna get your jo-ob, I’m gonna get your jo-ob!

Maybe.

Anyway, I feel pretty good about my job performance, but it really is taxing. I mean, I am slammed all day long – every time I turn around there’s more stuff in the inbox and it’s all time sensitive and absolutely the most important stuff ever to the agents who turned it in because it means their paycheck... And there’s quite a bit of math involved. Math! I’m having to do accurate math! And the phone’s ringing off the hook and I have to still be nice to people and greet walk in clients all breezy like and not come off like the stressed-out, run-down (bad at math) multi-tasker that I am.

It’s tiring. And then I come home to a house full of boxes and I think “I should unpack at least one box.” So I open up a box that has a bunch of sheets and towels and some clothes in it. I make a ‘Clean’ and a ‘Laundry’ pile. I take the ‘Laundry’ pile downstairs to the washer and dryer and I happen to notice that I haven’t set up the dehumidifier that's down there yet. So I open it up, and I think “Huh… where should I put this?” I decide to put it in the corner next to a desk that was stashed in the basement temporarily until I could decide where it should go. Then I think “I wonder if this desk will fit against the back wall in the bedroom?” So, there I am lugging a piece of furniture up the narrow basement stairs, and I get to the top and have to stop because there is a half empty box and a pile of sheets right in the way. Nothing ever really gets done. It is a seemingly never-ending process.

Again, I relayed this information to my usually sympathetic mother. And she said:

“I know exactly what you mean. I’ve already made four trips the coast this week with truckloads of furniture, and your father is custom building me a shelving unit in the closet there just so I have a place to put my sweaters! We’re up until midnight every night moving and unpacking and organizing our home, we even forget to eat sometimes! And I went to Mark’s today, after babysitting your nephew for a few hours, and helped him set up an excel spreadsheet to keep track of his incoming and outgoing orders for his home-business, and you know? We’re planning a road trip next month to California! Can you believe I’m going to California? We’re going to stay with the Whites and I’ve already arranged for us all to go to a professional baseball game and made dinner reservations at their favorite restaurant. Oh, but first your Dad and I will be meeting the builder to discuss the new plans for the sunroom at the lake house and a carpenter is coming to finish the deck this weekend. I brought you a hedge trimmer. Didn’t you say you needed a hedge trimmer? Hey, have you RSVP’d to your cousin’s wedding yet? You should really do that soon honey. It’s on the 21st and it would mean the world to him if you were there.”

I mean, damn. If this woman is not planning and scheduling and doing 500 things at once, she goes nuts. And she’s retired! You should have seen her when she was working! And she still has pneumonia. You’d never know it - I mean, she’s up and walking around and taking antibiotics for it and stuff, but she has a cough, and pain in her chest, and I know it takes a lot out of her. If she wasn’t sick... Holy lord. She’d have built 10 houses by now and taken over a small country and found a way to turn cheese into gold. Or something. Sheesh. TAKE A BREAK WOMAN!

I feel so pitiful now, what with my two simple jobs. And some light unpacking. I’ll be passed out in my box fort if anyone needs me…

Moving Sucks

2006-06-05T12:33:00.000-07:00

Remember my fireplace?

I’ve decided to replace it with a pile of boxes and random crap. What do you think?

I’m sure most of you know how stressful and exhausting it is to move. Unless of course, you were smart (having done this before) and hired movers ahead of time, and didn’t try to do a large part of the transporting by yourself, in the rain, load by load, over the course of several weeks.

I can't believe how much stuff I own. I’ll tell ya, it really felt weird when I was finally done, to not be constantly making trips back and forth from my truck to my front door. If I wasn’t carrying something heavy up or down a flight of stairs, I didn’t know what to do with myself... And then I had to clean the old apartment. This was the worst part. Having to scrub the place top to bottom and not even get to enjoy the fruits of my labors... it’s all for someone else I don’t even know! Well, and so I can get my deposit back. But you just know the property manager is going have professionals come through and clean it all again anyway. *sigh*

Feeling like I could use some sympathy for what I’d endured in my struggle to get moved, I went to my mom with my sob story. She laughed at me. She and my Dad are in the process of moving themselves, having sold the farmhouse they’ve lived in for the last 28 years to my sister and brother-in-law. Mom had no sympathy for my “puny” pile of boxes. She has 28 YEARS worth of boxes (14 of which she filled with kitchen stuff alone) and is moving several HOURS away, into a much SMALLER house. And she’s doing much of the packing and cleaning and organizing and setting up by herself. Oh, and she has Pneumonia. She had chest x-rays to prove it and everything.

Damnit. Mom always wins.

Season of the Dragon

2006-05-26T12:17:00.000-07:00

It’s dragon-boating time again. And this morning I went to my first flag-catching practice after a whole year off. Actually, I didn’t know I’d be catching the flag today… The coach told me we wouldn’t be practicing with the flag until next week, but that I should come down to the dock anyway (at 6:45 in the morning) to help time the rowers with a stop-watch.

I went. I parked a million miles away, hoping I wouldn’t get a ticket when the pay-to-park hours started at 8:00am, when I would still be in the boat. Unfortunately, it was raining. And unwisely, I wore several layers of cotton clothing. I was already soaked through when I got to the docks. I got teased a bunch by the team for it too “You’re going to freeze!” they said “Where’s your raincoat you silly girl!?”

Well as a matter of fact, my raincoat is buried in one of 1,000 boxes– wrapped around a blender and a miniature replica of an antique sailboat, in a pile of things I moved from my apartment to the new house last weekend after I finally gave up and sacrificed organization for speed in packing up my belongings.

“I’ll be ok” I said to them. “I’m tough.”

I hate it when people think I’m frail. Getting out of bed at the fucking crack of dawn was the hard part for me. But I did it, and now I’m here and committed. Let’s do this. What’s a little rain? Besides, how bad could it be? All I had to do was sit in the back of the boat and press a button every 30 strokes. No problem.

I realize I should have learned my lesson last year when they filmed us for Good Day Oregon, and I ended up as little more than a popcicle stuck to the dragon's face. But no. Once again, I froze my freakin’ butt off out there!! Not only was it raining, but it was windy. I could barely feel my hands enough to be able to press the godforsaken timer on the stopwatch. My ass was numb. I was sitting there willing time to pass by faster when the coach said “Hey, there’s the practice buoy. Why don’t you come up here, Cameron, and we’ll make a couple of flag runs?”

Not wanting to make a liar out of myself, I climbed into position on top of the dragons head, and acted as human mop to the large puddles of rainwater that had collected there. It was extremely unpleasant. We made two runs at the buoy, and I managed to somehow grasp the base of the flag with my ice hands to make the catch both times. The team cheered half-heartedly, evidently convinced by my stoic charade that I was not actually hypothermic.

We finally docked and I made the long, drizzly walk back to my truck. It was 8:45am. Magically my truck was ticket free. I finally got to the office where I hovered, shivering, over a cup of hot chocolate in front of my heater and thawed out. Next week I’ll be sure to wear my raincoat, a hat, and 7 more sweaters, so no one will ever have to know that I’m not actually tough. Just stubborn. And lucky.

Go Wind Dragons

Update?

2006-05-22T10:42:00.000-07:00

This really isn't much of an update.

But this is:
Your Stupid Ideas

And this:
One Moment Inc.

:)

Troy's Lucky Day

2006-05-16T11:33:00.000-07:00

After moving some of our stuff over to the new house on what turned out to be a beautiful sunny day, Troy and I decided to walk over to the store and get a soda. A block away from the house, Troy looks down and says "Hey, five bucks." And there, on the ground is a perfectly good five dollar bill.

We bought a soda and four scratch-off lottery tickets.

It must have been a lucky five bucks, because all four tickets were winners! 3 were $1 winners, and one (the one Troy scratched-off) was a $4 winner.

Then we went shopping to get some cleaning supplies and some other house-related items. We were wandering around the isles of the store when Troy looks down and says "Hey, a dollar." And there, on the floor, is a perfectly good $1 bill.

We bought plane tickets to Vegas.

Just kidding.

But I did talk him into letting me use $5 that he won with lottery tickets to buy a dress I found at a garage sale. It's a vintage Jessica McClintock dress that typically resales on eBay for around $45. And that's exactly what I'm going to do with it, damnit! We'll just have to see how far we can stretch Troy's luck money. Next stop, Powerball.

The Houses I Didn't Buy

2006-05-12T21:33:00.000-07:00

I finally got the keys to my new house last weekend, and I realized (like I do every time I'm actually AT the house) that I really, really, really love it. Sometimes I would leave and not be able to remember how many cabinets the kitchen had, and I would worry that it's too much money, and too much responsibility, and that the house might be too small... But I walked around last weekend on MY hardwood floors, and I inspected the clawfoot tub in MY tiled bathroom, and I watered the beautiful roses in MY backyard and I felt really good about it. I love it. And it's worth every penny. I almost shed a little tear in MY somewhat narrow but otherwise totally accomadating bedroom...

Especially when considering some of the other places I DIDN'T buy. Here are some photos from the other houses I looked at that didn't make the cut. Not even close.

This one came complete with an arrangement of evil bunnies in the garden.

Huh... I'm not sure I like the "Wonderland" neighborhood.

I'm sorry, but just because you put an old broken chair down here, does not mean you can call it a 'partially finished basement.'

*Baum-chicca-Bau-wauu*... I thought I was looking for a home, not a place to film really bad 1970's pornos!

Mom was too busy trying to figure out how we'd get furniture in through the window to notice that Marie was falling down the stairs. Or lack thereof.

A front yard. Mom and I are more interested in the house next door. It wasn't for sale.

A backyard. Even the Daffodils seem unsure.

Ah, that's better...

This is the yard at MY house. Now see? 100% Dad and Dog approved.

Hey Dad... who wears short-shorts?

Skylines

2006-05-12T09:17:00.000-07:00

These have been called the 'Best' city skylines from around the world - but perhaps 'Most Impressive' is what they meant. Not to be a hypocrite or anything, I mean, I live in the freakin' city. But I'm not necessarily a huge fan of paving over everything and cramming hordes of people into metropolitan centers. Some of these photos (Sao Paolo, I'm looking at you) just make me think "Ugh.. Where'd the land go?" and are a little depressing. But then again, some others (Seattle, Singapore, Hong Kong) make it clear that there is definitely some beauty in modern architecture - even if it does completely obscure the original landscape and indicate mass populations of people and their trash and pollutions.

I also think it's pretty cool that a lot of these cities have the obligitory 'weirdo' building that really stands out from the rest in terms of height and design; the Space Needle in Seattle of course, the Reunion Tower in Dallas, and the futuristic Oriental Pearl Tower in Shanghai, among others. I guess no matter where you live, people are people.

Oh right - here's the link so you can see what the hell I'm talking about!

15 Best Skylines in the World

Portland didn't make the list, but I've added it here. It really is lovely at night with all the lights reflecting on the water, and with Mt. Hood in the background of course. The storm picture is my favorite though. Très Oregon!

How Gimpy the World is (The Twilight Loan)

2006-05-11T11:47:00.000-07:00

Last night I finally signed the closing documents for my home loan.
It sounds so benign… But really, as is the story of my life, what a fiasco! And what a bizarre series of events and people...

It started with my bank deciding to be closed in the middle of the day, on a Wednesday, making it pretty much impossible for me to get a cashiers check to pay my closing fees. After realizing that EVERY single branch in the Portland area was closed for some kind of mysterious ‘business meeting,’ my poor parents had to rush to a different bank for me, open a new account and transfer funds just so I would have the stupid check to bring to closing. Thanks Mom & Dad! (‘Thanks Mom & Dad,’ by the way, is the understatement of the year.)

Anyway, that taken care of, all I had to do now was wait for the title rep to show up and walk me through the mountain of paperwork I needed sign. So, my parents and I are waiting in the lobby of my office, and this woman pulls up out front, gets out of her car, and proceeds to unload a baby stroller from the back seat. “This isn’t her” I say. “No professional title representative would bring her baby to a closing.”
“That’s not a baby” my Dad said “That’s a dog.”

Sure enough, it was the title lady, and she brought her dog – a tiny Yorkshire Terrier, in a stroller, into the conference room. It sat there the whole time looking very much like a stuffed animal and not making a sound. Weird, but easy enough to ignore, since I was really anxious to just get through this part of the transaction. Dog schmog. I had a pen in my hand and was ready to go.

Then my lender arrived. He sat down and immediately began telling us about his wife who had recently broken her arm. He described the pain medication she was on, and the cracking sound the 5 fractures in her arm make, and how the doctors can’t put pins in the bone to hold it together because she’s diabetic and has different healing needs than other people. Then he shared a wealth of information on diabetes, and explained how his wife is also on a waiting list for a kidney transplant.

Now, it’s unfortunate that she’s in this condition, and I feel bad for her – but all I could think of at that point (and all I've been thinking about for the past month) was loan documents, disclosures, deeds, insurance, taxes and mortages. And all his story did was start up a health-crisis discussion amongst everyone else in the room. My parents of course, were prompted to explain to the title lady about my sister’s recent battle with GBS, and all its detailed misery. Way more information than someone we just met probably needs to know. But still, she listened and looked interested throughout the duration of the telling.

Then it was her turn. “Well," she said flatly "my husband was just recently diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis.”

Huh.

So, where do I sign?

Not to be insensitive, but hello?? This is a loan closing, not a disease seminar! Finally, after about 30 minutes of nothing but signatures and sicknesses, I got through the stupid paperwork. But just when I thought I was in the clear – the title woman picked up her dog from the stroller and introduced him.

“This is Cody” she said. “He’s a parapalegic. He can’t use the bathroom by himself, I have to express his bladder and bowels for him”
After a few seconds of shocked silence, I couldn’t think of anything better to say than “Wow, that is one lucky puppy.”
“Oh, he’s not a puppy anymore” she contined. “He’s 5 years old.”

This woman has been helping her dog poop for five years? Holy lord. Somehow I had found myself in the TMI vortex of real estate transactions, and I wanted to get out. Bad. I feared if I stayed in that room with the divulgers of medical dilemma any longer I was going to be stricken with The Plague and would be appreciating my new home from the confines of my death bed! Either that, or I was going to snap and say something regrettable.

The woman picked Cody up and cradled him, his useless back half hanging limply while his front end shivered and his eyes darted around the room. “He’s nervous I’m going to drop him” she said. And then she pretended to drop him. The dog didn’t even notice, but my Dad laughed like crazy.

I was already holding the door open so everyone could leave.

Happy Day

2006-05-08T17:15:00.000-07:00

Today turned out to be a pretty good day.
I mean, I didn’t get anything done at work really… but no one noticed, so that’s good, right? I moved stuff around on my desk a lot, but that’s about it. I got my final home loan paperwork completed and turned in to the title company. I spent the whole morning on MySpace filling out ridiculous quizzes. I went home to a delicious lunch that was all made and ready for me (Thanks Boy!) And just when I was thinking I could use something sweet I remembered I still had half a box of Skittles in my bag from the theater last night. I took a few hours to contemplate the glory that is Skittles. You know, you really can taste the rainbow…
Also, I’m wearing these shoes that I really love. I've been loving them all day long. These shoes are so awesome I can hardly stand myself in them. And I’m about to schedule a spa appointment for my mom, my sister and I for next weekend. Pedicure here I come!! Can you feel the future? I can. And it feels pretty damn good.
I think a lot of this has something to do with the fact that I got a really good night’s sleep last night, for the first time in a loooong time. Woke up in the same position I feel asleep in and everything.

I don’t want to get too cocky though, because in the movies that’s just when you get creamed by a car.

I’ll probably get a cavity from those Skittles.

And damn, I don’t have dental insurance.

There. That’s better.

Loose Change

2006-05-08T15:43:00.000-07:00

9/11. What the hell happened?

If you have time, I recommend watching this. If you don't have time, I recommend making some time to watch this. I had goosbumps on my arms, butterflies in my stomach, and tears in my eyes all at the same time. I usually avoid anything to do with politics, and really don't like to think about what happened on that awful day - but I'm glad I saw this.

Tell your friends.

Loose Change Video

Chez Cartier: The Virtual Tour

2006-05-05T11:58:00.000-07:00

I don't live here yet. But I will by the end of the month. Here are some more pics of the loveliness for... well, for Potor mostly. Ask and you shall receive!

Chez Cartier

2006-05-04T12:16:00.000-07:00

Are you guys ready for this? I'm having a hard time believing it myself.

I bought a house.

Feast your eyes on the 1928 Mediterranean style, brick-mason built, hardwood floored, super-fantastic Bungalow on oversized lot that is my new home.

Isn't it so cute? Look at all of my trees! I have trees! And did I mention it has an amazing fireplace? And a tiled bath with clawfoot tub? And a fully fenced and landscaped private backyard? And a basement? With brand new Maytag washer and dryer included? I'm really excited about that part for some reason. Me, excited about laundry... Did I mention I am totally poor now and will need all of you to send me care packages so that I can still eat and pay my mortgage?

I have a mortgage! I'm still in shock a little bit.

househousehousehousehousehousehousehousehousehousehouse

Super Agent Mensa

2006-05-02T16:21:00.000-07:00

'Super Agent Mensa' is the not so endearing knickname given to one of the realtors at my office. She is quite possibly the least functioning person ever to hold an open house. And even then, I bet she had to have someone else host it for her because she didn't know how. Or maybe that's just what she wants us to think... It's hard to tell if she's really that stupid, or if she's actually a genius who has found a tried and true method for getting other people do her work for her. I shouldn't make fun. I am one of them!

I got this email from Super Agent earlier today:

"Can you please make a flayer for me with the following pointers and pictures:

Must see inside to appreciate
Spacious open floor plan
Main floor family room
3 bedrooms 11/2 baths
Balcony off master
Taxes $1,701.19."

Yes, I'll make you a 'flayer.' Assisting with the creation of marketing materials is part of my job description, and I'm happy to do it. But there's some information missing that I'm going to need in order to do this. How about, oh say... THE ADDRESS?? Um... THE PRICE?? Maybe you could actually ATTACH the photos you wanted to use. That might be helpful.

I pictured myself making a Publisher document with 5 measley bullet points on it and no pictures. Just the way she requested. But of course, I could never do that. Sadly I have already demonstrated that I have the capacity and the resourcefulness (and the administration logins and passwords) to get the information I need to make a decent property flyer, with little help from the agents. Although, I've never had anyone give me so little to start with...

Several hours later, her husband calls me to tell he’s emailing the photos. Her husband. This is what happens when you say things like “Uh-oh… I made a boo-boo on the computer!” You get people to do stuff for you. It also helps if you are pretty damn attractive. So anyway, I open up the photos, and what do you know? The files are huge, and the pictures are dark and uncropped and generally poorly composed. Also, the house is filthy and there is a pile of garbage in the backyard. *SIGH* Not only do I need to scrounge for info to build a list of features for her flyer, I now need to Photoshop the hell out of the pictures she took to make the house resemble something someone might actually want to buy.

“Must see to appreciate.” No kidding.

It’s when I find myself doing her job for her that I start to wonder if she's actually super smart and just has us all totally fooled.

But then I remember the Christmas Party last year where this conversation took place:

Husband: “Why is that dog wearing a ‘W’ on it’s head?”
Super Agent: “That’s not a W! It’s an upside down ‘M’.”
Bystander: “Um, those are antlers. That dog is wearing reindeer antlers.”

Yeah. I'm pretty sure she's a moron.

How Not to Sell Bedsheets

2006-04-25T11:14:00.000-07:00

If you really don't want anyone to buy your luxurious, "sensual" bedsheets, try putting an older, veiny, long-nippled man in them. That ought to do it.

Go ahead. Take a closer look. You know you want to... indulge.

Ew, right? Those are genuine man-teats right there, kids. Sagging, shadow-casting, social embarassments just waiting to poke their way through a cotton shirt on a cold day. And I didn't even charge admission! Now, how did they end up in Portland Monthly??

A.) Frank never told anyone about the year he spent as surrogate mother to a herd of goats in the Phillipines.

B.) Todd's knack for cutting glass with nothing but his chest came as no surprise to those who knew him well. However, the fact that he kept getting topless modeling jobs astounded everyone.

C.) This advertisment is really for the book he's reading. "Pinnochioitis of the nipples and other apendages."

D.) Got Milk?

Happy Birthday Noodle!!

2006-04-24T11:56:00.000-07:00

It's Noodle's birthday today! She's 2! We love Noodle!

9 Year Olds Get Me

2006-04-13T12:20:00.000-07:00

Sometimes the agents bring their kids to the office with them, and leave them at the front desk for me to entertain while they makes phone calls and stuff. This has the potential to be really annoying, but I occasionally welcome the interruption. Mostly because of things like this:

Totally.
Thanks Bella! Good trade.

Here's another little gem I found on my desk a few weeks ago.

Rock on Emma.
Stay in school!

Insult This

2006-04-13T10:04:00.000-07:00

I got into a fight with one of the realtors at my work last week.
It wasn't a fist-fight... but it could have been if he'd kept yelling at me! Damn.

The guy has a superiority complex and an ego that is often swollen out of proportion by beer. He decided it was necessary to make a drunken scene in front of my co-workers over a mailing project I'd done for him. It was ridiculous. He took a handful of evelopes I'd labeled and waved them in my face, shouting "You think these look GOOD!? It looks like a CHILD labeled these!! It looks like SHIT!"

Well, it just so happened that I thought they looked perfectly fine, and since I take a personal pride in my work, and really dislike being insulted in front of my coworkers, my reaction was to take the envelopes out of his hand, rip them up, and throw them in the trash. "Well if you think these look like garbage, allow me to throw them away for you." I said.
He lost it.

I don't know which one of us was yelling louder. Ultimately, my standing up for myself flustered him enough that he ran out of words and had to storm out. He later came back to collect the bits of torn up envelopes from the trash, tape them back together, and put notes and arrows on them so that the manager would get the full effect of what I'd done. Or something... The manager told him to "stop yelling or get the fuck out" and made him apologize to me for being an ass.

I can think of a few reasons why you might not want to upset the office help... The ones who take your calls, and handle all of your commission paperwork. The people who are charge of your marketing projects, have keys to your office, and are responsible for putting stamps on your tax related outgoing mail. The people who have access to your business card photo, and who probably have blogs where they could post things like this:

THROW ROCKS AT THIS MAN

But of course, I would never do that. I won't let it get to me. I am more the type to forgive and forget, let bygones be bygones - and never ever do another labeling project for that jerkface again.

Some people!

Miss Me?

2006-04-04T14:21:00.000-07:00

Wondering what's going on? Hating me for not posting recently? Well today, I bring you the dish. Here's what happening.

My sister has spent the better part of a month in the hospital dealing with the sudden and extremely unexpected onslaught of Guillain-Barre Syndrome. Woo! Good thing she's a stubborn girl who won't let a stupid thing like a potentially fatal, totally debilitating, auto-immune nerve disorder get her down... In fact, even from the confines of her bed in the ICU, she had me laughing hysterically with stories of her experiences with the hospital nursing staff. I don't know that I could have kept such a positive outlook with an illness that tries it's hardest to make life so miserable. But she's finally back at home now, and on her way to making a full recovery. Though the process is long and arduous, it's expected that she'll eventually be back to her old active lifestyle. And just in time too, because this month...

My nephew is turning ONE YEAR OLD! There's nothing like a baby boy who has almost mastered walking to get you back on your feet. I was out at my sister's house last weekend, and was amazed that the little guy has figured out doorknobs, the remote control, and all the dials and buttons on his baby toys among other things. When he wants to open a door, he'll grab your hand and put it on the doorknob to show you what he wants. It was so cool the first few times he did it, but once I realized all he wanted to do was walk around opening doors, I quickly pawned him off on his grandma. You know what else? Babies actually say things like "Goo-goo" and "Gah-gah." It's not just a figure of speech! They say it just like that. My nephew pronounces the 'Goo' and the 'Gah' with intense accuracy I might add. I am a proud auntie.

Not to be left out, Noodle is turning TWO YEARS OLD this month! She's just as precocious as ever, and though she can't reach the doorknob, she does manage to open the door with her face from time to time. I am a proud dog-mommy, as ever.

Oh, and also - I've begun home shopping. No, not buying overpriced jewelry from that show on TV, but actually shopping for a home. While I adore my lovely river-view apartment (and I do love it... a lot,) I realize that paying someone else's mortgage isn't all it's cracked up to be. Especially when I have the means to put a substantial down payment on something of my own, and start building some good old fashioned equity. This sounds smart and mature, but damn it if driving around all weekend in an area of fast-selling, high appreciation real esate isn't scary, stressful and freaking me out just a little. It helps to know I have an office full of licensed realtors to give me advice and explain stuff to me, but this really is a huge undertaking.
Especially for someone like me.

Who fears change.

There, I said it.

Maybe it's not so much that, as it is my need to weigh, heavily, all the pros and cons of everything related to the home in question (not that I've found one.) I worry I might take so long Libra-ing around with the decision making, that someone else could buy the house I'm debating right out from under me. I'm so glad I have my beloved Aries friend Troy to kick my ass and tell me what it is I really want! He always knows.

So, to summarize... I'm busy.
More soon. Promise.

For Your Entertainment

2006-03-27T16:53:00.000-08:00

Geek of the Day
GeekMatch.com

Unusual Puzzle
If you are are unusual, maybe this puzzle won't be.

HowCuteisYourKitten.com
I know, I know.. but surprisingly - not porn!

Don't push the button.
The Big Red Button

Office Update

2006-03-17T17:31:00.000-08:00

So I know you die hard Boating Accident fans have been anxiously awaiting more news on our dear friend (ha ha) Reebs. And well - I have it for you. She's leaving. Actually, she's already gone.

No, I didn't get her fired. And no, I didn't set up an elaborate government scheme to get her deported... but she did find another job, and has trained (I use that term loosely) the person who'll be replacing her here. It's difficult to know whether to cheer or just applaud, I know... but aside from having to find a new blog-target, I am perfectly happy to give her a farewell standing ovation.

I had to endure two of days listening to Reebs training her replacement, going on and on as though the job of a real estate assistant is f-ing rocket science. Then it was discovered that Reebs was making phone calls to her new employer while she was on the clock with her old one, and that she had lied to her boss about her new job. "Oh no I would NEVER go to work for another real estate company!" She exclaimed. Which, as it turns out, is exactly what she did. And exactly why she was asked not to come back. Ever.

Here is a list of things I will no longer have to do now that Reebs is gone.

1.) Hide my kleenex in my desk drawer. If I didn't do this, she would come to my desk and stand over me grabbing handfuls of kleenex 10-15 times a day. I'm perfectly happy to share, but I got a little tired of getting hit in the back of the head with her silicone twins while she was reaching over me for tissues.

2.) Explain to her how to use her computer. Knowing how to use a PC for more than just lingerie shopping should have been a prerequisite for her job. But then again, so should knowing what time zone we're in.

3.) Refill the color printer paper tray. Of course, I'll still need to do this, but at least it won't be for one of the many times Reebs would accidentally print 500 more copies of something than she actually needed.

4.) Be nauseated by her perfume.

5.) Worry that she's going to dump out a package of 'Smoothie Blend' skittles on my desk, and stare at me until I've tried every flavor and remarked that they're the 'best ever' and 'so good.'

6.) Listen to her drone on about a Coldplay concert she never even went to while she's on the phone with a title company customer service rep who only called to get a zip code.

7.) Listen to her telling the same goddamn story to her retarded friend on her cell phone 5 minutes later.

8.) Listen to her telling the same goddamn story a third and fourth time, to co-workers who had the misfortune of needing to use the copier while Reebs was in the resource room.

9.) Visualizing my own head exploding, to keep from hearing that goddamn story again.

10.) I'm sorry, my head exploded. I've lost my train of thought.

At first nobody had any idea what the new job was, Reebs wouldn't even tell her boss. But then she finally mentioned something about marketing and advertising, which, paired with the fact that she was being so secretive about it (and her man-bimbo reputation,) immediately made me think 'sex-toy website'... But on the off-chance she was talking about any other kind of business, I had news for them. Any marketing/advertising work Reebs did while she was in this office was actually done by ME. You guys don't have any idea how many flyers and letters and documents and projects she brought to me, asking "can you proof these?" And how many typos and errors and layout issues and mistakes there were that I corrected. Not that I'm so awesome or anything - I mean, it's pretty easy what I do. Which is why it's so surprising that she wasn't able to do it even a little bit on her own, and that someone else would hire her to do that specifically.

As smart as she is beautiful, eh? Oh well. If I never have to find out how things are working out for her, I'll die happy.

You're all going to stop reading my blog, aren't you.

Public Storage Can Kiss My Ass

2006-03-14T14:04:00.000-08:00

Is what I would say if I weren't, you know... a lady. Instead I said something very reasonable, and not at all haughty. Just kidding. This is what happened:

My parents are moving, and since the new house is much smaller than the old one, they are giving away some of their furniture. In particular, an antique dresser, and a set of 4 antique wooden chairs that have sentimental value to me. I would love to have these in my own house someday, but right now all I have is a rather crowded one bedroom apartment... the solution? Storage facility.

The one closest to my apartment is Public Storage (die!) So I went there and signed the paperwork and paid the money to secure a space. The property manager, Melissa, told me the office closed at 5, but that I would be able to access my storage space until 8:45 that night with use of a special code that opens a security gate.

Fast forward to 5:30, when I am tired and hungry, and parked outside the security gate, with a pick-up truck full of my mother's antique furniture - and it's raining. No matter what I try, that damn code won't open the frigging gate, and my furniture is getting ruined. Are you picturing this? Are you picturing me totally pissed at Melissa? I was. On my rental agreement there was an 'emergency' phone number for Public Storage's corporate office. I called it. The message said "We are currently closed. Our office hours are 9:30 to 6:00..." It was 5:45. And raining. Are you picturing me ready to kill someone?

I left a very delightful message for the corporate bastards who decided to leave work early, and then I drove to Fred Meyer where Troy bought me a tarp to throw over the already wet antique furniture. Goddamnit. "Who do I know with a garage out here???" I wondered to myself. No one. And driving all the way back to my parents was out of the question. I had to take my tarp-covered truck-load of things to my apartment, and keep watch over it in the parking lot during a very long, rainy night.

Melissa called me the next morning, as I was on my way BACK to the storage place to throttle her and drop off the furniture. "It was a computer problem" she said, robotically. "We're very sorry for the inconvenience."

I let her know that I felt it wasn't too much for me to ask for my money back, since I paid for something I didn't get, and my stuff got soaked.
"I'll have to talk to my regional manager." She said.
"At the very least" I continued, "I think you should reimburse me for the tarp I had to buy, because I couldn't access the storage space I paid for." That's not unreasonable, right? It was a $9 tarp. Come on.

"I'll have to talk to my regional manager" she said again.

It's been three days. How long does it take to call a regional manager? Maybe a long time, considering they may not actually EVER come to work during the hours noted on their outgoing phone message. I know I'm skeptical.

This was my mom's solution:

"Put a dead opossum in there for the month that you paid."

The longer I wait, the better that sounds.
Come on Melissa. Do the right thing already.

Hello, Hollywood? It's Ms. Cartier

2006-03-09T16:39:00.000-08:00

Remember a loooong time ago, when I posted about almost getting to be in a TV commercial? Of course you don't. That's why I copied this link to that post for you to read:

clicky-clicky

Anyway - that same film crew came back to our office today. They love our office for shooting commercials, for some reason. Good lighting I guess. And spectacular talent of course... but I'm getting to that. Today they were here to get a shot of the front desk, and my phone in particular, for a phone company commercial. Like last time, there were about 40 people and 20 tons of equipment, and they kept moving the stuff on my desk around while I was trying to work... it was so obnoxious. I eventually just forwarded the phones and ran away so they could set up cameras in my space. When they were all set up though, the director guy grabbed me and said "we want to use you in this shot - come stand right here."

So I got to stand at my desk, and pretend to answer the phone... on camera! It was like doing my normal job, only with a bunch of people standing around staring at me, a giant camera in my face, a huge light shining on me, and a dude shouting "Action!!" Well, if you took out the huge light and the camera, and the dude was shouting "Where do we keep the copy paper!??" it WOULD be just like my normal job. I would probably still be pretending to answer the phone...

Anyway, it may have just been my hand and arm in the shot, but who cares. My elbow is now famous. And I got paid $25 for it! The envelope the money came in says "Extra," and the lady who gave it to me called me "The Talent." Ha ha!

Now my elbow and my work phone are going to be TV stars (which means I'm going to have to look at my stupid phone, even when I'm not at work.) So, if you live in Oregon, and you happen to see a commercial where a lovely, blue-sleeved arm picks up the receiver on a large, corporate phone with butterfly stickers on the top - THAT'S ME. And I'd be happy to sign an autograph for you with my famous hand.

:)

The Post-It Gallery

2006-03-09T14:08:00.000-08:00

Has been updated!

http://postitgalleries.blogspot.com/

Lessons in Futility

2006-03-01T11:07:00.000-08:00

I found an umbrella the other day. At first I thought it appeared to me through some kind of divine intervention, because I've been wanting an umbrella... a plain, black, boring umbrella. It rains a lot here, and I've never owned one. I figured it was about time.

I'd been thinking about umbrellas all day, and pondering the story my mother told me once of how on rainy days she used to "borrow" umbrellas from the public library lost and found. "Did anyone turn in a black umbrella?" she would ask innocently. Of course, they always had several black umbrellas that had been left behind, and she would just pick one she liked and say "Oh good! Someone found it!" and skip dryly outside into the downpour. I suppose she felt justified in borrowing this way, because she would invariably leave the thing somewhere for someone else to find once its purposed had been served. She really is very resourceful, my mother...

Anyway, so I found this stupid black umbrella on the sidewalk, just lying there. And no one was around to claim it, so I declared Ground Score and picked it up. It had come to me. My very own free umbrella. I couldn't belive it! And it was raining, hard, and I had a long walk to my car... I opened it up.

Broken.

This is when I realized that there is nothing more pathetic than a broken umbrella. Except perhaps, a girl with a broken umbrella, standing in the rain. I mean, the thing looked like an injured bird on a stick. Several of its tines were broken and tilting askew, while black fabric hung awkwardly over my head. Who protects themselves from rain with an injured bird? No one who doesn't get rained on anyway, that's who. And there's really no way to fix it. It had ceased to be an umbrella, and was now a dangerous collaboration of metal and silk and pokie things sticking out at odd angles and serving no purpose whatsoever.
This is why people leave these in the streets.

I took it home, where it sat on my patio for a few days. It sprawled, limply in a puddle - still insisting on existing as something other than trash. The wind blew it around to form bizarre, strangely organic formations on the cement. "What is the deal with this stupid thing?" I thought. I got mad at it and threw it away. But three days later, I'm still thinking about that goddamn umbrella, and its persitance at something-ness. I couldn't hate it. I realized that ironically, a broken umbrella abandoned in the street - this most pathetic and useless contraption, has the ability to transform into something quite beautiful, in a stoic, lonely sort of way. Like an urban anemone, or an unexpected bloom.

So, even though I didn't get a divinely intervened rain-sheild, I came away with a new appreciation for inanimate objects. And that has to be good. I can accept my fate now - I'm just not meant to have an umbrella.
It's ok. I always liked the rain.

And now I bring you, broken umbrellas from around the world:

http://www.seanhillen.com/umbrellas0/index.HTM

Insane cat video

2006-02-27T04:03:00.000-08:00

http://www.extremely-sharp.com/direct/catvideo.html

Nine fours

2006-02-24T10:50:00.000-08:00

Potor tagged me. I got served. Now it's on.

Four movies I could watch over and over:
1. The Man from Snowy River
2. Blue Crush (so bad it's good)
3. Mad Max, Beyond Thunderdome
4. Fat-Burning Yoga with Sara Ivanhoe, evidently.

Four jobs I've had:
1. Sign Girl
2. Kennel Girl
3. Paint Girl
4. Program Director and Marketing Coordinator Girl for million-dollar property real estate program.

Four places I've lived:
1. On a farm
2. In a dorm room
3. The town of Helvetia
4. Someplace called 'The Waverly Surf'

Four TV Shows I love:
1. America's Next Top Model
2. Sex and the City
3. Home Movies
4. Antiques Road Show

Four places I've vacationed:
1. The bottom of a river-canyon in Idaho
2. Natural Bridge campground in Southern Oregon
3. Sedona, Arizona
4. Las Vegas, Nevada

Four of my favorite dishes:
1. Troy's Gourmet Fruit Smoothie blends
2. No-Fish-Go-Fish Parmesean Garlic Sandwich-Treat Thing
3. Troy's Tzatziki Macaroni and Cheese
4. Troy's Herb-Turkey Sandwich (you know it's good 'cuz normally I don't eat meat)

Four sites I visit (week)daily:
1. Hotmail
2. Yahoo
3. RMLSweb
4. Overheard in New York

Four places I would rather be right now:
1. At the dog park with Troy and Noodle
2. Anywhere that it's summer
3. Horseback riding
4. Meteora Greece

Four bloggers I am tagging: (In no particular order)
1. Rust Child
2. Ge-off
3. Dog Nerd
4. Matt in Moorea

Weekend in the Snow

2006-02-21T15:45:00.000-08:00

If someone had told me I'd be spending 5 hours at a cribbage tournament, on a Saturday night, amongst people I'd never met, in a town where the temperature was about 17 degrees and there was a bunch of snow on the ground, I'd say "That's what you think."

But this particular tournament was a special annual event held in Bend, Oregon, at the home of some of Troy's beloved friends - and in the spirit of adventure (and not liking to be left out of anything,) I went along.
It was way more dramatic than you might think.

Behold the thrill of victory

And the agony of defeat

Joseph's best distraction effort

I know it looks like that woman just got shot, but really... she only lost a game of cribbage. Not that any of these people are world-class cribbage players, but they were pretty damn competetive (the alcohol helped) and they were playing for cash and prizes. Troy won some jasmine scented 'Angel Snot,' and someone else won the 'Avenging Unicorn Playset.' There was even a rubber brain awarded to the person who had the lowest points.

I don't know how to play, so wisely, I brought along a book to read. Unwisely, I chose "The Jungle" by Upton Sinclair. I could only get through a few chapters before I was too nauseated to read anymore. There was only one other guy there who wasn't playing cards. We hung out a lot.

This is Winston:

The rest of the weekend was pretty fun too. We took an invigorating walk in the cold weather, and got to visit with friends. Noodle had fun playing in the snow, and the drive wasn't bad either... Here are some other photos of our trip.

We didn't go through the drive-thru store, but we did wash the truck windshield at a nearby gas-station; one of the only ones in the area that had a squeegee and water available! Many of the gas stations there don't have them because it's too cold and they freeze. I wouldn't mind going to Bend again in the summer, but for now I've had enough with winter. I'm glad to be back home! Where it's... 33 degrees...

My New Suit

2006-02-17T14:36:00.000-08:00

I wish!

It's a sleeping bag you can wear! Just looking at this makes me want to fall asleep. Someone please buy this for me so I can go camping again this year and not freeze my ass off.

Feel free to click on the link for more information. Especially if you can read Spanish. http://www.musuchouse.com/

People whom I would like to wish a happy Valentine's Day - list 2006

2006-02-14T10:16:00.000-08:00

With this post I realized I have been posting to my stupid blog now for over a year. So, to celebrate, I am taking the day off and running last year's Valentines list with a few adjustments. ;)

People whom I would like to wish a Happy Valentine's Day

Troy & Noodle
William & Sue
Heather & Danny
Lindsey & Dennis
Eldon & Brandy
Warren & Abby
Bjack & Alice
Jason & Lincoln
Patty & Beanie
Melissa in Thailand
Megs & Sym & Fatty
Marcus
Dustin
McKinsey
Eleanor
Justin
Gena
Matt
Tad
J.J.
P & J
Potor
Henry Rollins
Anyone still reading the list at this point. Luv ya!

And here are the people who can go straight to Hell:

My stupid neighbor
Whoever keeps throwing their garbage in my truck
My dental insurance provider (not anymore!)
George W. Bush

Thanks for playing!

Pets in Uniform

2006-02-09T12:03:00.000-08:00

You know you love it.

http://www.petsinuniform.com/

Be sure to click on 'Merry Christmas' for an extra disturbing surprise.

How to Tell The End is Near

2006-02-06T14:55:00.000-08:00

First of all, there should be some acts of god. Storms, high winds, earthquakes, flooding- that sort of thing. Apocalyptic basics. Next on the list is strange diseases, with no regard for species barriers. Mad Cow, Bird Flu, you get the idea. And I don't think I need to include a link to terrorist acts, weapons of mass destruction and war. We got it.

An Armageddon Ring around the moon is probably the next thing to keep an eye out for. Take heed. Or celebrate, depending on your outlook.

Also, if your car starts making a sound like the screaming of a thousand souls, it's a good indicator that the world is about to end. Oh, you know what? It could just be the fan belt. Nevermind.

I saw one of those moon rings late last night as I took Noodle out for her midnight walk. It was very obvious. There wasn't anyone else around to see it, and of course, there will always be doubters.

Me: "I just saw an Armageddon Ring around the moon."
Troy: "Oh. That means it will rain in two days."
Me: "Doesn't it mean the Apocalypse is coming??!?"
Troy: "No."

Trust your judgement. It's a well known fact that nay-sayers go hand-in-hand with impending doom. An all-out Earth wide explosion would be pretty sweet, but I have a feeling it will be the devastating pandemic, locust hordes and slow death by natural disaster sort of end to the world. I think we're due.

All of these things happening pretty much around the same time? I'm definitely skeptical... What can I say? It's been a weird year.

Printer Fire

2006-02-03T16:31:00.000-08:00

“Holy mother of crap, I’ve really done it this time...” I think as I stand over the smouldering, sizzling remnants of whatever print job has just been ejected, smoking, from the color printer. The room smells of burning cake, and pools of oil from the fuser unit saturate the remaining pages, as they churn noisily into the tray. WTF. 20 minutes ago, a red light indicated there was a paper jam deep within the confines of the printer. Though I searched, I could not find it. With its service door once again closed, the machine continued on with its job, and I left.

And now this.

Now all sorts of red lights are blinking madly on the display. The room is a good 10 degrees warmer than the rest of the office, and the ashes of singed printer paper litter the floor. It’s only a matter of time before the smoke alarm goes off. What the hell have I done?

“Don’t worry,” says the repair man, when he arrives an hour later. “‘This happens all the time.”

“Oh. Good.” Nothing like practically setting your office on fire to really instill the fear of god in you. The god of unemployment that is. But no. Turns out I’m in the clear. And our machine is just naturally a fire hazard.

Happy Friday everyone!!

Classifieds...

2006-01-26T12:38:00.000-08:00

I've been told these are actual published newspaper ads. I doubt that's really true, but they're cute anyway. Enjoy!

FREE YORKSHIRE TERRIER. 8 years old. Hateful little dog. Bites.

FREE PUPPIES: 1/2 Cocker Spaniel, 1/2 sneaky neighbor's dog.

FREE PUPPIES: Part German Shepherd, part stupid dog.

FREE GERMAN SHEPHERD - 85 lbs. Neutered. Speaks German.

FOUND DIRTY WHITE DOG. Looks like a rat...been out a while...better be a reward.

COWS, CALVES: NEVER BRED. Also 1 gay bull for sale.

NORDIC TRACK: $300...Hardly used, call Chubby.

GEORGIA PEACHES, California grown - 89 cents lb.

JOINING NUDIST COLONY! Must sell washer and dryer: $300.

WEDDING DRESS FOR SALE. Worn once by mistake. Call Stephanie.

FOR SALE BY OWNER: Complete set of Encyclopedia Britannica. 45 volumes. Excellent condition. $1,000 or best offer. No longer needed--got married last month. Wife knows everything.

Survival of the Idiodic

2006-01-24T16:22:00.000-08:00

It amazes me sometimes, that more people don’t die everyday due to sheer stupidity. Bad judgment, forgetfulness, negligence… that kind of thing. Heaters get left on with clothes draped over them, candles burn unattended, guns are weilded, wild animals are messed with, people who have never heard of ‘common sense’ are allowed to work around heavy machinery and open pools of water… Thousands of times a day, dangerous situations are created, and by sheer luck it seems, people survive. And the streets! Don’t even get me started on streets. People cross them without even looking these days. They just step out into traffic, and push their baby strollers into crosswalks before the light changes. They fling open their car doors with wild abandon into narrow streets with heavy traffic where 90% of the people are driving like maniacs.

By the way- has anyone’s car door ever actually been ripped off by a passing vehicle? I come close to taking out people’s doors almost every day. It’s a wonder to me that there aren’t more disembodied car doors littering the roadways, and for that matter, that there aren’t more people walking around sans limbs. And you never see obituaries that read “Flung open car door while parked along curb on narrow street with high-speed traffic.” That wouldn’t surprise me. But it’s always something like “heart attack” or “died in her sleep” and every now and then “went into anaphylactic shock due to severe goat-milk allergy.” What about “Ran self over” or “Forgot how to breathe?” It could totally happen.

How is it that we keep getting out of death by stupidity? We really need to start weeding out the rejects here people. Including those who tan in the middle of January to ‘3 shades darker than maple syrup’ and then wear coral colored power suits with matching lipstick.

Speaking of which, here is the latest installment of...

Reebs' Stupid Questions of the Week:

“Can you tell me again what’s in a fish taco? It’s like, fish… and like, a tortilla, right?”

“Do you know how nice life would be if I just moved into the compound?”

“Have you seen those huge trucks that have baseball bats in the back, and like, 40 ft. antennas? What are those called?”

“You’ll know the answer to this… um… what time zone are we in?”

Think about it. Just think about it.
There now. Don’t you feel smarter?

It's Official. I'm Annoying.

2006-01-23T16:31:00.000-08:00

So says my favorite fax of the day, from the Security Assistance rep at the Annoyance Call Bureau of Qwest Communications. Apparently, I faxed something to the wrong number today, and whoever got it was so upset that they had Qwest ‘investigate’ the number and send my office a notification of ‘CALL ANNOYANCE.’

“IMPORTANT – READ NOW!!!!!!!!!!!” It says across the top. “Official Notice!!! Please remove this number from your system!!!!!!!!!!
************** THIS IS NOT A FAX LINE***************”

Really guys, it was a wrong number. Get over yourselves.

What do you think? Should I send them an arrest warrant from the Bureau of Exclamation Overusage at the Punctuation Police Headquarters?

Myspace.com is Blowing my Mind

2006-01-20T09:05:00.000-08:00

I kept hearing about it. Again and again. I made fun of it. I rolled my eyes at its continuous mention. I always said I would never give in to the lure of myspace.com. “I’m too old for that crap” I thought. Besides, I’m happily in a relationship, and I already know where all of my friends are.

Don’t I?

And that’s how I too, got sucked into the world of online-profile land. Damnit if they don’t make it easy to find people! People I know, and used to know, from my high school, my college, my hometown - people I’ve heard about, and lots and lots and lots of people I don’t know at all. The majority of whom I’d like to keep that way. It’s way more networking than I ever needed or wanted, but still… I can’t stop. I discovered that an old friend I considered to be long-lost is married now, and lives about an hour away from me. I found out that an old high-school boyfriend is living in New York with a girl I went to college with – a girl who went to high-school in Hawaii with my old college boyfriend. (Did you get all that? I know. Bizarre.) I also came across a little girl I knew who used to go horseback riding with me almost every day after school. She is old enough now to legally buy alcohol, and she’s in training to be a police officer. It’s freakin’ me out man.

It made me create a profile so I could get in touch with these people. "I just want to say hi" I reasoned. “I'll add one picture” I thought, “so they’ll know it’s me.” Many pictures and a getting-to know-you survey later and I have nine friends corralled in my account, including some I never thought I’d ever see again, and more sending me messages every day. I don’t know how much more I can take. It’s craziness. Myspace.com has stolen my anonymity and replaced it with friends and madness. It’s fun for now, but I don’t know how long I can stand it. I feel so… accessible.
And that’s so not me.

Maybe I should add that to my profile…

Create Your Own

2006-01-18T16:27:00.000-08:00

Motivational Poster!

http://www.flagrantdisregard.com/flickr/motivator.php

Here's mine. I think this will look nice right behind my desk at work...

2005 New Definition Winners

2006-01-18T09:38:00.000-08:00

The Washington Post's Mensa Invitational once again asked readers to supply common words with new definitions - but with a twist this time; alter the word by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, then provide a definition. Here are the 2005 winners:

Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to begin with.

Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.

Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.

Dopeler Effect: The tendancy of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.

Inocculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

Arachnoleptic Fit: The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.

Bozone: The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

Cashtration: The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period.

Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.

Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.

Glibido: All talk and no action.

Beelzebug: Satan in the from of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at night and cannot be cast out.

Caterpallor: The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you're eating.

More New Definitions

www.urbandictionary.com

30 Radom Facts About Chuck Norris

2006-01-16T12:04:00.000-08:00

(Brought to you by J.J.)

1. Chuck Norris' tears cure cancer. Too bad he has never cried.

2. Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.

3. Chuck Norris does not hunt because the word hunting infers the probability of failure. Chuck Norris goes killing.

4. The chief export of Chuck Norris is pain.

5. Chuck Norris is currently suing NBC, claiming Law & Order are trademarked names for his left and right legs.

6. Chuck Norris sold his soul to the devil for his rugged good looks and unparalleled martial arts ability. Shortly after the transaction was finalized, Chuck roundhouse kicked the devil in the face and took his soul back. The devil, who appreciates irony, couldn't stay mad and admitted he should have seen it coming. They now play poker every second Wednesday of the month.

7. Chuck Norris built a time machine and went back in time to stop the JFK assassination. As Oswald shot, Chuck met all three bullets with his beard, deflecting them. JFK's head exploded out of sheer amazement.

8. To prove it isn't that big of a deal to beat cancer. Chuck Norris smoked 15 cartons of cigarettes a day for 2 years and acquired 7 different kinds of cancer only to rid them from his body by flexing for 30 minutes. Beat that, Lance Armstrong.

9. If you can see Chuck Norris, he can see you. If you can't see Chuck Norris you may be only seconds away from death.

10. Bullets dodge Chuck Norris.

11. A blind man once stepped on Chuck Norris' shoe. Chuck replied, "Don't you know who I am? I'm Chuck Norris!" The mere mention of his name cured this man blindness. Sadly the first, last, and only thing this man ever saw, was a fatal roundhouse delivered by Chuck Norris.

12. Chuck Norris once ate three 72 oz. steaks in one hour. He spent the first 45 minutes having sex with his waitress.

13. A Handicap parking sign does not signify that this spot is for handicapped people. It is actually in fact a warning, that the spot belongs to Chuck Norris and that you will be handicapped if you park there.

14. The quickest way to a man's heart is with Chuck Norris' fist.

15. When Chuck Norris sends in his taxes, he sends blank forms and includes only a picture of himself, crouched and ready to attack. Chuck Norris has not had to pay taxes ever.

16. The grass is always greener on the other side, unless Chuck Norris has been there. In that case the grass is most likely soaked in blood and tears.

17. Chuck Norris's girlfriend once asked him how much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood. He then shouted, "HOW DARE YOU RHYME IN THE PRESENCE OF CHUCK NORRIS!" and ripped out her throat. Holding his girlfriend's bloody throat in his hand he bellowed, "Don't fuck with Chuck!" Two years and five months later he realized the irony of this statement and laughed so hard that anyone within a hundred mile radius of the blast went deaf.

18. When the Boogeyman goes to sleep every night he checks his closet for Chuck Norris.

19. When an episode of Walker Texas Ranger was aired in France, the French surrendered to Chuck Norris just to be on the safe side.

20. On Neil Armstrong's second step on the moon, he found a note that said, "Chuck Norris was here."

21. Chuck Norris frequently donates blood to the Red Cross…just never his own.

22. Horses are hung like Chuck Norris

23. Filming on location for Walker: Texas Ranger, Chuck Norris brought a stillborn baby lamb back to life by giving it a prolonged beard rub. Shortly after the farm animal sprang back to life and a crowd had gathered, Chuck Norris roundhouse kicked the animal, breaking its neck, to remind the crew once more that Chuck giveth, and the good Chuck, he taketh away.

24. Chuck Norris likes to knit sweaters in his free time. And by "knit", I mean "kick", and by "sweaters", I mean "babies".

25. Chuck Norris owns the greatest Poker Face of all-time. It helped him win the 1983 World Series of Poker despite him holding just a Joker, a Get out of Jail Free Monopoly card, a 2 of clubs, 7 of spades and a green #4 card from the game UNO.

26. If Chuck Norris is late, time better slow the fuck down.

27. Someone once tried to tell Chuck Norris that roundhouse kicks aren't the best way to kick someone. Historians have recorded this as the worst mistake anyone has ever made.

28. Chuck Norris is 1/8th Cherokee. This has nothing to do with ancestry; the man ate an entire Indian.

29. Chuck Norris doesn't shave; he kicks himself in the face. The only thing that can cut Chuck Norris is Chuck Norris.

30. Chuck Norris appeared in the "Street Fighter II" video game, but was removed by Beta Testers because every button caused him to do a roundhouse kick. When asked bout this "glitch," Norris replied, "That's no glitch."

Last weekend, my mom used the words 'port replicator' in a sentence.

2006-01-11T11:13:00.000-08:00

I was stunned.

"Hold on a second honey," she said, "I'm almost finished setting up this port replicator."

This is my mom were talking about, a woman whose vocabulary is usually populated with terms like "Doohickey" and "Sploozled."

What the hell is going on here?? What happened to the days when I could say 'computer' and my parents would throw their hands in the air in frustration at not being able to follow whatever I said next? Email was a conundrum of typing and clicking. The internet was mysterious and revered. Those high-pitched dial-up connecting tones may as well have been aliens contacting us from another planet. But not now. Oh no. Now they have a cable modem and they pay all their bills online. Now my Dad peruses the antique rifle auctions on Ebay and aks if I know about PayPal. My mom does all her shopping on Amazon.com and has a laptop she carries with her everywhere. Oh, I'm sorry. I meant Notebook. Notebook. Dear god. Make it stop.

You are wearing pants, right?

2006-01-10T09:45:00.000-08:00

Did you ever wonder what it would sound like if someone wrote theme music for preparing waffles? Or a song that sounded the same played forward and backward? What else can I say. It is what it is.
Random link of the day:

Songs to Wear Pants to

Best present ever

2006-01-06T13:45:00.000-08:00

I got this 'Revenge' CD from my friend Justin for Christmas. It has 20 tracks with titles such as Party-200 People, Inhuman Screams and Drums Being Played by a Child. They're not kidding either! I let my neighbors listen to it the other night and they loved it! (Which means they turned down their action-movie marathon long enough to try and figure out where the Unhappy Baby was. Ha ha!)

Hmm. Well, now that I think about it - they probably have the 'Annoy Your Neighbor' CD with tracks like Action Movie Marathon, Frat Madness and Drunken Jocks Shouting Inappropriately into the Night...
Oh well. At least my CD came with a set of earplugs!!

Thanks J. What a thoughtful, heart-felt and useful gift. :)

Koopa the Painting Turtle

2006-01-05T20:45:00.000-08:00

Actually, what the turtle does is walk. The best way he knows how, through some paint a person has put on a canvas. It's still pretty funny though...

www.turtlekiss.com

Welcome to my Flood...

2006-01-04T21:24:00.000-08:00

It stopped raining long enough for me to take Noodle to the park and document the high water. There are about 10 steps there, covered in several feet of water, that usually lead to the beach on the river bank.
Notice Noodle is brazenly posing (leashless) directly beneath the 'leash your pet' sign.

Knicknames

2006-01-03T12:05:00.000-08:00

When did calling people by their actual names go out of style? Oh, that's right. It didn't. Reebs just found another way to be extra annoying.

Reebs' knicknames for people in the office:

Herself: Reba, Beebs, Reebie

Irene: Green Beans, Beans, String Bean

Linda (her boss): Loopy, Loolers, Little Bird, Sassy-Belle, Silly Goose

Megan: Bagel, Begs, Meg-Beg

Everyone else: Hon, Pal, Buddy, Doll

It may not look that bad, but imagine sitting near Reebs all day long while she has phone converstations like this:

"Loolers! It's Beebs. I have to tell you, Beans found the transaction in her file drawer, even after I had Bagel looking all over for it, gosh-darn-it! I put it back on your desk, okay Sassy-Belle?"

I'm developing OCD from repeatedly having to keep myself from gagging. I mean, it's one thing to have silly knicknames for your pet, because, come on... It's a pet. It's not like your dog is signing your paycheck, or calling you on your cell phone 5 times a day where you speak to them in babytalk while waiting in line at Starbucks. We're talking about people here. Professionals.

And you know, that's the funny thing. Reebs only has one name for her cat. Latte.

Herding Cats

2005-12-28T17:18:00.000-08:00

There’s this lady. This very eccentric, worldly, chaotic, free-spirited lady, who works at my office. Her name is Priscilla, and she habitually likes to spend her winters lying on the beaches of Mexico, or hiking through the forests of Belize, usually alone, with very little advance planning. The last three years she has asked me - the responsible, non-eccentric, agenda loving home-body, to watch over her house and her two beloved indoor cats (Buddy and Deja Vu) while she is away.

Reasons I agree to housesit:

1.) It’s like having my own vacation home for a month out of the year. It’s a fabulous house with a kick-ass 2nd story bedroom suite and attached bath complete with tiled shower, marble Jacuzzi tub and stunning views of downtown. Plus a giant flat screen TV, all the cable/movie channels you can imagine, and amenities galore. Aw yeah.

2.) She pays me

3.) She’s bringing me presents from her travels abroad.

Reasons I dislike housesitting:

1.) Merging onto Interstate 84 on the way to work in the morning.

2.) Cleaning the litterbox

3.) Unforseen fiascos

As fabulous as it is, something always happens to make me regret looking after this residence. Three years ago, I accidentally locked myself out a half hour before I was supposed to be at a party, and had to call a locksmith to come and let me back in. The only locksmith I could get to come help me turned out to be morbidly obese, and had some kind of elephantine growth on his face. He smelled of mildew, and could not manage to actually unlock the door. I ended up squeezing through a kitchen window, and paying him $50 just to go away.
There was also a very persistant homeless young man that year, who tried repeatedly to get me to let him move into the basement, saying that he had permission to do so. "Have you tried co-habitating?" he asked me, "you might like it." I almost had to call the police.

Two years ago, I was there again, housesitting as peacefully as I could during what was being called the 'Storm of the Century' (with spare keys hidden outside) and thinking I had everything under control, when I got an urgent international call from Priscilla. She was somewhere in Peru and had just been robbed of her luggage, her passport, her purse, all of her most important personal documents and all her cash. She had managed to somehow dial her home number from a security station, and pleaded for me to cancel her credit cards, alert her bank and try to get emergency money sent to her. I had to pretend I was her and forge her name on checks and do all kinds of illegal things so that she would not have to spend the night in Peruvian prison for not being able to pay her hotel bill. I could barely even pronounce the name of the town she was supposedly staying in. We’ll just call it ‘Stress-City.’

Last year I decided to ‘play it safe’ and tell Pris I would only be able to look after one of her cats, at my home while she was away. It sounded good, but still, this was pretty much a disaster. While I do feel fondly toward all animals, I am not what you might call a ‘cat person,’ and trying to keep a rather mischevious one confined to a one bedroom apartment that already had a border collie mix running around in it, was a bad idea. When the dog wasn’t harassing him, the cat was getting into everything. I had to rig the bathroom door to provide the poor guy (and myself) with some refuge. The bathroom soon became the scene of unspeakable cat-litter catastrophe. Then Buddy escaped outdoors. He was gone overnight, but fortunately came back unscathed just when I was really starting to sweat.

This is the last year I do this I thought, as Priscilla managed once again to talk me into staying at her fabulous house while she’s away on her annual winter trip. And so I have been, rather uneventually, for the past few weeks. Over Christmas weekend however, as I was packing up to spend a few days away at my mom’s, it seemed as though this year’s housesitting fiasco had finally struck.

Just as I was making my final rounds of the house before embarking on my weekend trip home, a black blur maneuvered past me into the garage – stopping to flick its furry tail in my face before bolting for the side door and escaping out into the yard. That damn cat. “Buddy!! Come’ere Bud! Kitty kitty kitty!! I’ve got to leave, like now... Buddy!! You’re going to be sleeping outside if you don’t come back in the house right now!” As I’m shouting this into the wet, bamboo choked landscaping of the yard, another black blur squeezes past my legs and stands, mewing, on the patio three feet away. “Deja! No! Get back in here!” She refused to be caught. No amount of trickery, pretend food offering, or sweet talk could bring her within grabbing range. She stayed just out of reach, not at all concerned, mewing conversationally. “Deja, you do NOT want to sleep outside. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll come back in right now.” She stared. Buddy rustled in the bushes somewhere on the other side of the fence.

Screw it, I thought to myself. Reasoning with cats was not on the job description. There’s no pet door, and I’m not about to leave a window open lest a burglar get inside and loot the place. Besides, they’re cats, it’s not like they are entirely helpless living outside for a couple of days…
I filled a bowl with dry cat chow, left it on the porch and gathered my things to leave, feeling guilty nonetheless. It started to rain. Damnit.

As I made my way down the sidewalk to my car, I heard the unmistakable sound of catfighting in the bushes behind the house: “rrrrrrrrRRRRRRRrrrr FFFFTTTTT!!! RRRREEEEEOOOOORRRrrrrwww!!!” Then there was some scrambling, twigs snapping, more fighting cat sounds.

I left anyway.

I pictured myself showing up two days later, and discovering Buddy’s bedrageled body by the front door- missing an ear and several large patches of fur…“Explain this to my owner” his eyes said.

I spent the drive home contemplating the layout of the missing pet poster I would be making for Deja. I wondered if raccoons discovered the bowl of cat chow. During dinner I imagined I could hear the small growlings of empty cat tummies in the distance. I dreamed each night of rain storms, flash floods, pet cemeteries. On the drive back to Pris’s the day after Christmas, I began looking for veterinary offices and rehearsing how I would explain the way in which I'd lost the cats.

Finally, I arrived. Both cats were waiting to be let in. Perfectly dry, unharmed, and looking quite relaxed. Of course.

But there’s still time for something to go terribly wrong… I have two more weeks of housesitting duties, wherein the roof might collapse, aliens could invade, or I don't know - a sink hole could open up in the driveway and swallow her car. You can bet I’ll be soaking luxuriously in the marble Jacuzzi tub, drinking champagne and gazing out at the sparkling night lights of downtown Portland, while an On Demand movie plays to no one in the plush bedroom suite - I’ll be there luxuriating and waiting… waiting… for whatever it is. Housesitting Fiasco 2005.

This really is the last year I do this.

Happy Holidays!

2005-12-27T11:01:00.000-08:00

from Noodle

Use the Shoulder Pads

2005-12-21T12:49:00.000-08:00

To shovel snow...

Sweater Collection

Gem Sweater Video

Leslie Hall Homepage

Ostentatious Ornamentation

2005-12-21T12:20:00.000-08:00

Your random link of the day (brought to you by ROBOTS!)
A bit of a read, but worth it. Anyone who knows my feelings about coffee will understand why I appreciate this review. ;)

Tycho's Senseo Product Review

Ms. Cartier Needs...

2005-12-19T12:49:00.000-08:00

I totally just stole this idea from Monica, but since she stole it from someone else, I don't feel too bad about it. Besides, it's fun. I went to Google and typed in my name and the word 'needs' and hit search. Here were the results.

Cameron needs a battle angel.
Cameron needs a new stepping stone memo
Cameron needs to fool most of the people just once
Cameron needs to shake the party up big time
Cameron needs a loving home
Cameron needs a tracheotomy
Cameron needs to win credibility
Cameron needs the full eight years
Cameron needs to put on some substance
Cameron needs to let this pragmatism flow
Cameron needs your donation

There were, of course, a few dirty ones - but I'm pretty sure they were all about Cameron Diaz.

I'm slightly obsessed with the whole 'Overheard in the Office' thing. It happens all the time at my work. It's really not hard to overhear inappropriate things in my office because everyone talks so loud, and nobody has any shame. For example, yesterday Reebs was wearing what can only be described as a dominatrix police woman uniform. Leather skirt, knee high leather boots with metal spike heels, and a blue wool-ish long sleeved top with leather accented pockets and cuffs that was about two sizes too small. She looked like a law-enforcement transvestite. Anyway, one of her boss's elderly clients came in to pick up some paperwork, and the little old woman looks at Reebs and says "Well, would you look at that. That's a... pretty... outfit you have on. Where are you hiding the whips and chains?"
I almost lost it. And might have if I hadn't already been wondering the same thing... Seriously, why does she think that clothes purchased at exotic dancewear stores are (office) work appropriate?

And now I give you the random link of the day:
What Not to Crochet

Just when I thought I had tried every dangerous equestrian sport there is...

2005-12-19T10:24:00.000-08:00

Let me rephrase that. Just when I thought I had done just about every stupid thing a person can do to potentially injur/kill themselves via horseback...

I mean there's the usual; trick-riding, racing, jumping (stadium, cross country, bareback, at night, over hedges, ditches, fallen trees, creeks, cars, people) and of course there's drunken rodeo, mail delivery, equestrian synchronized swimming, horse-boxing, log-rolling, and well... that mostly covers it. Doing things on horseback is a pretty reliable way to get yourself injured. But what if you aren't necessarily on the horse? What if the horse is... pulling you... on your skis....

I just heard about this today.
How could I not have know about skijoring?? The sport in which a person on skis is pulled through a snow covered obstacle course and over jumps by a horse traveling at excessive speeds.

Holy crap.

It really sounded crazy when I was being told about it, but then I saw these pictures and I have to admit. That looks awesome. Wow. Sledding is so 2004.

Let's Get it On Son

2005-12-16T15:22:00.000-08:00

From the pages of a real estate magazine that showed up recently at my office... I wasn't sure what to make of it. Perhaps you can be the judge:

A.)Doug and his Dad were much closer than anyone could have imagined.

B.) If you listen hard enough, you can hear the sound of a freshly jobless editor kicking himself for having missed class they day they reviewed the difference between "getting it on" and "bringing it on."

C.) While Queer Realtor Weekly was doing impressively well in sales, Incestuous Business Review never even got off the ground.

D.) What Pops really said was edited for brevity... and censorship: "You know Dougie, I never told you, but your Ma cheated on me once with that good-for-nothing vacuum cleaner salesman that was always sniffing around our block like some sick stray dog. "Let's get it on!" he'd say, spilling his case full of attachments on the living room floor. Customer service my ass... Anyway, he's your real father, son. Not me."

Kid Art Critique

2005-12-16T13:25:00.000-08:00

Crappy Kid Art

Other time-wasters:

Overheard in New York

Overheard in the Office

Statcounter Rules

2005-12-13T10:11:00.000-08:00

This week's Stacounter keyword searches resulting in links to this blog - a delightful mix of pervs and weirdos, spiked with the occassional person seeking actual useful information. The search results keep getting funnier the more I post these lists...

Boating Breasts
Biting Alligator Photos
Mooninites Voicemail
Sorority Sex Kittens 6
Dog Humping Owner
Orange Juice and Phlem
Webcam Wife
Spit in my Anal Passage
Gargantuan Bird-Eating Spider

Que ridículo. This may be the last Statcounter update for a while though, because in my frustrated attempts to obtain a normal looking template display, I accidentally reloaded some blogger code and lost my Statcounter HTML. (Um... Eldon? Hi, it's me...)

Little Help

2005-12-08T08:43:00.000-08:00

Hello readers and fellow bloggers. Today I sway from my usual complaints and speculation to ask you a favor.... Can someone please tell me what the hell is up with my blog template display??? It looks different depending on which web browser I'm using. For example, if I have it open in Internet Explorer, most likely my blog posts will look the way they were intended to look; perfectly spaced with text paragraphs lining up with the appropriate photo, etc. However, my profile photo and archives are sometimes squished way way down at the very bottom of the page. I don't know why this is, and apparently Blogger tech staff doesn't either because I've never heard back from them about it.
However, if I use Opera or Mozilla to view the page, my profile and archives show up where they're supposed to, and everything else is totally jacked (at least on that last iPod post anyway.) And I have no idea why. It's so frustrating. Sometimes a post will look exactly the same regardless of which browser I use, sometimes it looks great on one, and stupid on the other. Has anyone else out there had this problem?

Well if you don't have any solutions for me, at least you'll know that if my blog looks retarded it's probably because you're viewing it in a different browser than what I created it in. I suppose it also might be because it is, in fact, retarded. But here's hoping.

Thanks,
-Ms.C.

Gifts for people who don't do anything except listen to music all day long

2005-12-07T11:39:00.000-08:00

The whole iPod craze is getting a little out of control. It seems they've manufactured new products that allow you to listen to your iPod from any and every conceiveable location, in any and every way you can imagine. And some you can't. They're taking over the world. Everything is an iPod. iPod is the new black. My iPod made me do it. It's not just for walking around anymore! See what iMean:

Want to hook your iPod up to a home stereo system? No problem.

iStereos

I'm just barely scratching the surface here. These are for people who want 'normal' looking stereos/speaker systems with iPod compatability. Sometimes though, you want your stereo to look like framed art:

iFrame

Or a car:

iBeetle

Or an Ionic Breeze

iOnic

Or a disco dance party

iDisco

Perhaps you are really clumsy and find angles of any kind to be hazardous around the home. You're in luck! iPod makes several spherical sound systems just for you.

iBalls

Don't even think about turning off the tunes for something as trival as showering. iPod goes where you go!

iShower

Can't have a dog, because caring for one interrupts your continuous jamming to iPod tunes? Not anymore.

iDog

iDog won't interrupt your songs - it dances to them, and lights up with the beat. Now you too can have an artificial friend who even seems to understand your taste in music.

Ah, finally. Something practical like a massage chair.... No, wait! It plays your iPod too! You NEVER have to be without music!!!!

iChair

So be careful out there when you're holiday shopping. Make sure to inspect every item you see, because that Chia Pet you're getting for aunt Maude? It's also an iPod player. Blender? iPod. Sweater? iPod. Fruitcake? You guessed it. Everything is an iPod/player/accessory. And if it's not, it will be soon. Don't say I didn't warn you.

The Post-it Galleries Presents: Part II

2005-12-02T14:45:00.000-08:00

The Post-It Galleries

Part II

Cool Gifts for Kids. Or Me.

2005-11-30T16:32:00.000-08:00

Where were these toys when I was little? I don't have any kids, but if I did - - heck, if I had kids I probably wouldn't have time to write this post. Screw the kids, I want these toys!

Carnival Crane Game

Are you kidding me? I would play the crap out of this toy!! Like, right now. Bring it on, Mr. Carnival Crane!! I gots me a whole handful of plastic nickels and a hankerin’ for some cheap-ass prizes, AW YEAH! Back when these (real life) crane toy grabber machines actually grabbed the toys inside, I was the master of plush extraction. I still have a collection of ratty, misshapen stuffed animals to show for it. I imagine you could probably fill this toy with drugs and put out at your next adult's-only party too. Let the fun begin.

Pretend Food: Breakfast

I love how the jam is just a sheet you put on top of the toast. And that the bacon is transparent. If I had this fake-food set, I would put it out on my kitchen table just like this to create the illusion that I have domestic skills. Goddamn that looks good…

Fake food also available in sushi! This set is called "Feast from the East" :

Love it. While your friends are fighting over who has more plastic French fries, you can be artistically arranging tuna rolls on raku platters with coordinating chopsticks and serving tea.

Next we have a truly unique playset, the Pretend Pet Salon!

Even though most toys that facilitate ‘real running water’ are a parent’s worst nightmare, I still have to give this toy props. I’ve seen doctor playkits and pretend kitchens and all that good stuff – but there’s something really great about acknowledging early on that your child might very well end up a dog groomer. Just look at how much fun that kid is having with his pink hair-dryer.

Sand Digger

YES. What a great way to spend $39.99! You know this kid is dog-groomer kids' worst nightmare. He's just looking around for someone to dump a load of sand on. He is the sandbox king. And probably not real good at sharing.

Paddock Pals Ranch

A little girl’s dream. The photo doesn’t show it well, but in the stables there is an upstairs apartment with a little bed and a dresser where the imaginary caretaker of the horses can live. In the barn. With the horses. Where was this toy when I was naïve enough to think that living in a livestock barn meant that you had it made? Horses are cool.

Lil' Shaver Kit

This kid needs 17 accessories just to shave, and he doesn’t even have facial hair yet. Pressure much? While it's pretty neat that all the items make realistic sounds, I don't know if this toy is very cool. I mean, anytime I've ever been around a guy shaving (besides my dad, who can drive and shave at the same time) he generally needs to concentrate - and can't be bouncing Jr. on his knee and weilding a razor at the same time. Go fake-shave on your own time, Billy. It'll make you more of a man.

Ok, I'd better get back to work. Right after I finish my Pop Rocks, and get these barettes in My Little Pony's hair... Happy Friday!

Gifts You Should Never Give Anyone

2005-11-30T11:20:00.000-08:00

Around this time of the year, the office mail bin gets innundated with various catalogs touting gift ideas. While the catalogs boast 'Innovation!' and 'Uniqueness!' many of these gifts I've found to be extremely ill-advised, expensive, and designed to make your friends (and you) look like dorks.

Take for example, the Ergonomic Comfort Lounger:

Ergonomic Comfort Lounger $199
"Chaise cushion set helps reduce tension in your neck and back for maximum comfort under the sun. Adjustable to six positions with three movable pillows for custom support. Medically endorsed and recommended by chiropractors."

Because it's important to look like a complete idiot where you're at the pool. I sure hope there’s a face hole, and the lady is not just doing a face-plant into her chaise, and holding a magazine at the same time. It's really hard to tell. This woman should be glad she is not recognizable from the photo.

And now you can look like a total dork at the gym too! With the 'Hydro Headband!!"

Hydro Headband $15
"A great way to stay cool while you work and exercise. Headband uses cold water and the natural process of evaporation to keep you cool and refreshed for hours. Lightweight and reusable design. Elastic band stays firmly in place. One size fits all."

Um… like SWEATING??? Isn’t sweating the only true ‘natural process of evaporation?' That lumpy, ridiculous water-filled headband is far from natural-looking if you ask me. Dude gets points though, for being able to pull off that 'too-cool-for-school' expression while wearing this.

Then there's 'Ambient Orb.'

Amibent Orb $99
"Using wireless technology, Ambient Orb changes color in response to market fluctuations. Track the Dow, S&P 500, NASDAQ or American Stock Exchange. Premium accounts can be customized for a single stock or your individual portfolio. No PC or Internet required."

Ok… but, why? Why does it have to be all marshmallowie and glowing like some sort of alien spore-sac filled with poisonous gases? Oh, that’s right. Depending on what the stocks are doing, it changes from ‘spice puke’ to ‘harvest gold’ to ‘disco red’ to keep your guests and business partners wondering what the hell is going on with your décor. Also, anyone involved enough in the stock market to actually appreciate getting the ol’ Ambi-Orb, probably already has a PC and Internet installed in every room in their house/vacation home/car/office, and gets hourly updates on their cell phone/PDA/Universal remote. But what do I know. I had trouble even spelling NASDAQ.

'Today's Girl' Doll

Today's Girl Doll $39.99
Totally today in attitude and fashion, this 18" doll offers high-style play at a low, affordable price."

Ok, so there’s nothing really wrong with giving this doll as a gift to an appropriately natured little girl or boy. I was just really impressed with the size of Today’s Girl’s enormous head. “Comes with Satellite System accessories and ‘fat head’ personality complex!!”

Just kidding. But it should say that. Besides, everybody knows it's all about the Bratz dolls this year, and they have enormous heads too. But they don't have noses and their eyes are the size of almond-shaped, make-up smeared dinner plates. Now that's an unattainable standard of beauty just waiting to happen... Quick, run out and buy one for your impressionable tween before it's too late!

Stay tuned for my next post: "Cool gifts for kids. Or me."

Happy Thanksgiving!

2005-11-24T09:15:00.000-08:00

I Suddenly Remembered - Choirs are for Nerds and Old People

2005-11-22T10:05:00.000-08:00

With the weather getting colder, and the leaves changing color, and every conceivable commercial industry pushing Christmas on everyone since Easter – I recently got a wild ‘holiday’ hair, and decided I wanted to be festive and sing Christmas carols with a professional choir this year.

I don’t really know why. I’m not religious at all, and don’t usually feel like doing anything productive with my time... I’ve have, however, always enjoyed the haunting melodies of some of the more traditional carols (my favorite is Oh Holy Night,) especially when performed in four part harmony by a talented group. So pretty! And peaceful and soothing! And of course, I adore singing. Aside from my various vocal forays into electronic and garage band productions, I have practiced and performed with various school-associated concert and chamber choirs from Jr. High through college, so it’s definitely something I know I can do. And it didn’t seem that hard… Besides, when’s the last time I went out and did something I wanted to do, just because I could? So I posted a ‘can I please sing with your choir this winter?’ add on CraigsList, and heard from a couple of people. Church choirs mostly. “But!” one of the emails pleaded, “we are a non-denominational church who openly accept people of all faiths – or none.” Universalists? Or something? Whatever. Good enough for me! What the hell! I mean… heck!

The trouble was, this non-churchy church choir turned out to be pretty far away from me, and located in (so I’ve been warned) a not-so-good neighborhood. I researched their website and looked at their performance pictures, and while I was pleased to see that they embrace “all members of the community” and promise a “flexible practice schedule,” the photos brought back all those repressed memories of why I hate singing with a freakin’ choir.

First of all, everyone is wearing vests and bowties. Sure they’re supposed to be just for performances, but for some people, choir is a lifestyle. It’s like everyday is your cousin's wedding, and you are an usher. You never know when someone might stop you on the street and ask “how does that one Bach cantata go?” You want to be dressed for that - just in case.

After I got over the initial shock of “Oh yeah… bowties…” I noticed that everyone in the photos was over 50. That’s fine. For them. But picturing myself, a solitary 20-something girl paying $50 a season to drive to a sketchy neighborhood and sing religious vocal arrangements, in a vest, with a bowtied group of people old enough to be my parents - I had to stop and think. “I am young and virile. Why am I doing this again??”

Oh right, the carols.

So I’ve come to this conclusion. Anyone wanting to hear the latest solo, acapella rendition of Oh Holy Night, feel free to stop by my shower weekday mornings between 7 and 7:15 from now until whenever I feel like stopping. Merry holidays.

Seriously??

2005-11-21T12:51:00.000-08:00

Recent Keyword Searches (resulting in links to this blog) from Statcounter.com. I'm beginning to think you guys are just messing with me now...

Confined Space Accident Photos

Dog Messes and Water Containers on Lawns

Father and Son Showering Caught on Camera

My Shit Smells No More Than a Hot Biscuit

Naked Sorority Hazing Paddle

Glamour Garage

Her Latest Drunken

Fireplace Accidents

Medical Deformities Lobster Claws

Mellowcreme Weight Serving

Black Booty on Haunted Farm

WTF you guys. A hot biscuit?!? I sure hope you found what you were looking for... sheesh!

The Best in Random Marketing Ideas

2005-11-16T09:29:00.000-08:00

You know what I think is going to be really big this year? Oxymoronic kitchenware. Check it out:

That's right. You saw it. The Nascar racing-themed slow cooker. For when you want to slow-cook something really fast.

"The best drivers matched with the best in slow cooking!!" Uh-huh. Notice I left the ordering phone number on there, so you can call and get one before they run out. You know you want to. Hell, you could collect all five! To add to your random crock-pot collection of course. Or to accompany your PETA steak knife set, and your American Heart Association butter dish.

Losing It (a little)

2005-11-15T14:56:00.000-08:00

Nothing makes me want to shoplift more than ridiculously overpriced crap.

Take for example the little boutique behind the office I work at. We’ll just call it ‘Fifi & Lautrec,’ or just ‘Fifi’ for short. This little store touts itself as a store for girls of all ages, and sells a lot of things that are pink, smell nice, and are adorned in rhinestones and/or feathers. They also have a lot of unique jewelry. But let me ask you this: When’s the last time you paid $45 for a pair of simple earrings? We’re talking sterling silver, maybe a bead or two, French wires… pretty, and unique, but simple. $45!!! How dare they? It’s the kind of ridiculous overpricing that causes you to want to make the damn things yourself, which you could easily do for under $10… not counting the price of art school.

The worst part though, is that when aforementioned infuriatingly-overpriced earrings did not sell, rather than have say – oh, a SALE – Fifi raised the price! $52!! And then the sales lady stands there behind the counter ignoring you, while the obscenely priced jewelry sparkles at you from the unlocked cabinet, whispering ‘Steal me! Steal me!’ It costs so much, it might as well be free, you know?

Fortunately (for those concerned with my soul,) it is satisfying enough for me to know that nobody else is buying those earrings either. Get a clue, Fifi. It’s called economics. Have fun paying the lease on your retail space next month.

Who knows though. All it would take is someone like Reebs to walk in there, not even look at the price tag, and decide she ought to buy all of the earrings to fill her cat’s litter box with. And by the way, where the hell is she getting all her money? She might be making assistant wages under the table, but they’re not that good. When she got her luxury SUV fixed she complained that it would cost her $1,200 – or, her “shoe budget for 6 months.” When the new Nordstrom catalog comes out, she points to the things she already has 3 of. She admits to buying $500 jeans that she can’t even wear to work. And she still baffles me with comments like this:

“Do you think I would look more natural if I plucked my eyebrows more?”

Yes, Reebs. Because in nature, hair never grows where it’s not supposed to. Isolated native tribes in Amazonian rainforests have never heard of ‘tweezers’ or ‘wax,’ and yet they have perfectly groomed eyebrows. They pray to incompetent airhead idols who have been made surgically disproportionate, and spend the whole day obsessing over coldsores and looking in the mirror. You freak. You social burden. You chemical sponge. Stop investing your heaps of money in acrylic nails, white eyeshadow, spray-on tanner and hair extensions, and come back and ask me then, if you look more natural.

I’ve decided just to go back to wearing safety pins in my ears and hoping no one talks to me.

Intensity in Ten Cities

2005-11-11T14:52:00.000-08:00

Last night I got to see Henry Rollins at the Aladdin Theatre. Not Rollins Band. Not Henry Rollins reading poetry. Henry Rollins spoken word. Henry Rollins talking. Talking non-freakin'-stop too, about anything and everything.

Henry Rollins on the the United States Government.

Henry Rollins on Americans at war.

Henry Rollins on the Trans-Siberian Express.

Henry Rollins on Christopher Lowell.

Henry Rollins on puking with so much force, your head flies back and hits the wall, knocking you out for 3 minutes.

Henry Rollins on misery, and its ability to "keep shit real."

I don't think he even took a breath. Not even once. Not even when some dude from the audience, wanting to be a hero, walked up to the stage and set a bottle of water on the edge. Without missing a beat, Mr. Rollins kicked the bottle off the stage and scolded "Don't ever approach the stage when someone is performing, it's the wrong thing to do. I appreciate the gesture, but don't EVER do it again, I will FREAK the FUCK out!!"

It gave me butterflies.

Having been fascinated with Henry Rollins since my formative teen years, I was riveted by his performace. I laughed, I learned, I was totally enthralled, and genuinely inspired. I was in awe, mostly. Of someone with such intimidating stage presense, who speaks bluntly of experiences beyond my realm of knowledge, who physically frightens me, and who at the same time, does cute things with his eyebrows that make me want to run up there and give him a hug.

I'll never forget it.
Rock on, Henry. Rock on.

Skeptical?

2005-11-10T10:33:00.000-08:00

The other day, I got a really random piece of mail. It was a legal sized envelope machine printed with my name and my work address, but all that was inside was a single coupon for a free sample of Ore-Ida Extra Crispy Microwave Easy Fries.

WTF.

That’s all that was in the envelope. Why did I get this? I don’t even like French fries all that much, especially not ones that you make in the microwave… Huh… where did this come from?

Anyway, around the same time, I bought a birthday card for a friend and noticed on the receipt that I could go to the card company’s website and receive a ‘free gift’ by signing up for their newsletter. The free gift was another card. Hey free card! So – I signed myself up… and then, since I know his address, I signed Troy up too. Two free cards!! I wondered if he’d be mad. I’d just submitted his personal information to a greeting card company in the interest of possibly getting free goods - for me. I felt a little guilty about it, so when the free cards arrived in the mail, I let Troy keep his. Then I told him about the random piece of mail I got with the French fry coupon.

“Oh.. heh heh…” He said. “That’s mine. I signed you up on the Ore Ida website a couple weeks ago so I could get free fries. For me.”

We are so perfect for each other I can hardly stand it sometimes.

And now, for your viewing pleasure - I bring you Men in Silly Sweaters:

I never get tired of this

2005-11-08T15:11:00.000-08:00

Recent keyword searches resulting in links to this blog
(from Statcounter.com):

Bedbugs afraid to smell

Recently concluded Miss Transexual show

Boating babes

Nascar t-shirts

Reasons I hate 24

Toothbrushes for mentally challenged

Cat-carrier accident photos

Holy geez. I couldn't make this stuff up...

I never get tired of this either: (the only time I will ever touch politics.) If you are a Bush supporter, pretend it's someone else. It's still fun. I promise.

The Horror

2005-11-02T14:56:00.000-08:00

There they were. Frightening, audacious – commanding our attention, blowing our minds just when we thought we’d seen it all. A sleek, lycra blend the color of desert sand, pulled taut across the manly canvas of Reeb’s ass.

Its teeth barely gripping - the zipper of her painted-on khakis screamed its silent misery as the fabric stretched in rigid lines on either side. I desperately tried to look away as she sauntered, oblivious, into the office. Every dimple, every fold, every contour outlined, presented unapologetically to us innocent bystanders, on a tan polyester platter. A fashion faux-pas. A wardrobe slap-in-the-face. An abomination in bottoms.

There was no denying these were the tightest pants EVER worn under the pretense of ‘business attire.’ At least two sizes too small, they fit closer than her actual skin, and showed, in excruciating detail, more than anyone ever wanted to see of her un-feminine form.

Our eyes bulging in disbelief, much like Reebs' khaki seams, we looked helplessly at one another, holding our breath, ready to duck at the first sound of a button richocheting off cubicle walls.

Without even looking up, her boss muttered: “you look nice today.”

There was nothing anyone could do.

Why my Landlord is a Putz

2005-10-31T15:19:00.000-08:00

I got a notice in my mailbox, and on my door last week explaining that some dudes were coming to clean the chimneys at my apartment building today, and that someone would be entering my apartment: "Between 9:00am and 5:00pm on Monday Oct. 31st."

I realize the safety reasons behind why this needs to be done, but wow. That's worse than the goddamned cable company. I was instructed to make arrangements for my pets if I was not going to be at home, and to clear my mantle and "remove personal items and furniture surrounding the fireplace and six feet in front of fireplace." Also "remove any garbage, ashes or debris from the firebox." In other words, clean the fireplace for the fireplace cleaners. Which I reluctantly did.

All of this scheduled and arranged and typed out and posted by my apartment manager, Dave. I was surprised, as it was one of the few times he's actually posted a 24 notice of entry, within 24 hours of the event. I figured I'd have to bring Noodle to work with me this afternoon if the dudes didn't come before 1:00, while Troy was there watching her.

Well guess what? When I went home for lunch there was no sign of any chimney sweepers, or their van, or their brushes, or anything having to do with bothering people in their homes and making big sooty messes out of their mantles etc. Knowing his track record for screwing things up, I called the Landlord. "Um, hey Dave. Are the uh - chimney sweeps on schedule today??" and he said "Well, no. They're not. They didn't have the right equipment, so they decided they couldn't do it."

And he just assumed people would figure that out.

People who had already made arrangements for their pets for the day. People who spent the previous evening rearranging furniture, and removing each piece of their antique metal horse collections from their mantles, wrapping and placing each one carefully in boxes... People who almost lost a finger while fashioning 'soot scoopers' out of Gatorade bottles, and cleaning every speck of debris from their fireboxes. People who spent their Sunday nights vacuuming. For the love of all that is holy, I VACUUMED!! DAMN YOU DAVE!!! I would be even more upset if I had actually dealt with having my dog at work with me today only to get back home and find out that NO ONE HAD BEEN THERE.

I'm pretty sure I won't be the only one leaving a flaming bag of poo on Dave's doorstep tonight. Along with a bag of ashes/garbage/debris from the firebox.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Halloween Boredom

2005-10-28T16:11:00.000-07:00

At the conclusion of my office's pre-Halloween party, there was a giant box of gourds used for table decorations leftover, and a big bowl of monster-themed chocolate candies. And about 4 hours of downtime where the phone didn't ring and no customers came in... Fortunately, I was armed with tape, paperclips, and some imagination.

Here is my gourd-goose creation.

And a Pagan nativity scene. I think it's pretty obvious who the three figures and the baby pumpkin are supposed to represent, but I'm not sure what Frankenstein is doing there. He looks pretty confused himself.

Then I went bowling. This didn't last long, as all the chocolates were hollow, and actually quite fragile. I totally made a mess.

Did I mention there was also a crate of extra beer?

Just kidding.
That's not me! My sunburn would be way worse...

Happy Friday!