CK came over last night and we watched Moulin Rouge, since she'd never seen it. We both just sat there, mesmerized by Ewan McGregor's huge talent.

I've done absolutely nothing today. I wanted to cut the grass, but it rained. So, I did a load of laundry and dishes, read my e-mail, then took a long nap. Now I'm ready to go back to bed. I think working last weekend drained me. I didn't mind it when I was working, but when I woke up on Thursday and expected it to be Saturday, it was difficult to get up and go. Good thing we are off on Monday.

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Thursday, August 28, 2003

Now I regret not going to the Wesley Willis concert when he was in the Big City this Spring. Why didn't I go? I shall use this event as a sign that I need to get out more, because you never know what will happen. You may never get another chance to do whatever it is that you've been putting off until later.

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Sad news of the day: Wesley Willis died August 21, 2003.

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Wednesday, August 27, 2003

The monthly Home Ideas newsletter had the results of last month's poll: How often does your family barbecue in the Summer? 56% of the people said twice a week or more, 25% said once a week, 12% said once a month, and 8% said never. I was in the last group. Those frequent barbecuers must have a gas grill, because I guarantee that if they only have a charcoal grill, they would also be in with me and the other 8%. It is such a PITA to clean that thing off each time you want to grill something, then you have to dump the ashes and everything's such a mess.

I could cook on the indoor grill, but it's just as big a pain. The previous owner had delusions of being a caterer, so she spent $15,000 remodeling the kitchen (all the while neglecting the obvious roof leak and other states of disrepair in the house). She had a Jenn-Aire downdraft cooktop installed on an island in the middle of the kitchen. It looks nice, but if you don't have the grill blazing hot before you add food, everything sticks to it. As there's no central air conditioning, and just a window unit in the kitchen, I don't ever feel like bringing the area temperature up to a number of degrees that rival the surface of the sun just to have some grilled steaks in the summer.

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Tuesday, August 26, 2003

The local Domino's Pizza has a sign out front offering "free delivery". Today, they covered the word "free" with blue electrical tape. I guess I won't find out if they are charging for delivery, because their pizza tastes like ass, anyway. And they always burn the crust.

Speaking of burning food, I am cooking a broccoli and cheese casserole to take to the church hall in the morning. A lady from church called last night to say that Mrs. W's eldest son had been killed Saturday when he was struck by a car. He was crossing the street up in the town where I work, I was told.

Mrs. W and Mr. W used to live up the street from me, but they'd put their house on the market last September. They had a hard time selling the house, because their next door neighbor is Crazy Old Mrs. Night, whose whole yard is overgrown and looks like a jungle. You can't walk on the sidewalk in front of the house because of all the poison ivy and thorny stuff. In any event, Mr. W called his eldest son and asked him to come over and clean out the gutters in October, but the son said he couldn't make it until the week later. Mr. W decided he would clean the gutters himself, and set up his big extension ladder. As these stories usually go, Mr. W fell off the ladder, and as he was 81 years old, died from the complications in November. The son spiraled into a big depression over the guilt of "killing his own father" and started drinking. A different Church Lady told me the son, who was 54, was wandering around intoxicated and walked out into traffic. It's still a sad state of affairs for Mrs. W. Though her house finally sold last month, so that's something.

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Monday, August 25, 2003

I took some new allergy medication at work today. I think I'll stick with my old medication in the future. Because it is usually better if I am awake when I am typing in the total on someone's credit card invoice...else they are likely to be charged $1900.00 instead of $19 for a network card.

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A customer on the phone just said I was a "plethora of information". I told her I was more a cornucopia than a plethora.

I just feel that I'm more a profusion of information than an overabundance of same.

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The weather was hot, but not as humid yesterday, so working the tent wasn't as bad as it could have been.

One funny moment came when a mom was buying some software for her daughter and made the comment, "I was just telling her that, when *I* went to college, we just took ourselves...we didn't take computers." The Boss told me later that he had to stop himself from saying, "That's because they were as big as the World Trade Center towers and cost $50 million dollars".

The Boss had picked me up at my house in the big work van and we'd driven in together both days. On Sunday, we stopped for gas on the way home. The gas station we stopped at always has some peddler on the corner selling rugs or Tommy Hilfiger gear or other stolen things. Yesterday it was the Rug People. Once the van was gassed up, The Boss got back in and I asked him to ask the Rug People how much the Kokopelli rug cost. He drove over, leaned out the window and asked, but the Rug Lady told him he'd have to wait just a minute. He told her he was in The Company Vehicle and couldn't wait. She told him the rugs were all different sizes and prices. He said, "That rug. Right there. Off the line. How much is it?" She finally stammered that it was $125; he thanked her and we left. I can't believe they are charging $125 for a rug that they don't even bother to roll up when it rains.

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Sunday, August 24, 2003

On Friday, I thought I was going to have to slice off the head of The Angry Old Woman. She has worked with us for about three years, yet our New Temp who has worked for only a week knows more about our product line AND is far more pleasant to the customers. I had to tell TAOW repeatedly to answer the phone when it rings. She claimed that she "can't always hear it ringing", so I told her when the light is flashing on the phone, that means it's ringing and to answer it. Then she came up front to "help out" and there was a big mob at the counter. CK jokingly asked the New Temp why she was standing back from the counter, and she teasingly answered, "Oh, I just got knocked out of the way...." TAOW, quite seriously said, "Me too. It makes me wonder why I even bothered to come up and help." I had to go to my office before I caused a personnel scene in front of everyone.

Saturday, I worked with The Boss in the tent for Back to School. Sales were brisk, but some of the questions I got defied explanation. It left me wondering how these people actually got admitted to college. And I don't mean the ones that came over asking if we sold floppy disks, because that's just sad, not ignorant. I mean the ones who would buy an ethernet cable, then come back and say it didn't fit in the slot on their computer. I would have to gently explain that an ethernet cable *won't* fit into the modem slot, and then offer to sell them a network card for $18. I was told that this was THE computer literate generation, but I've seen them, and they aren't. I think that label is a bunch of hype. Just because they've been typing on a computer since they were 2, doesn't mean they have any idea how they work; any more than the average driver knows how to strip an engine, just because he's been driving a car since he was 16.

To add insult to the generation disconnect, I went with the Apple CampusRep to have a bit of lunch. We went to the "student cafeteria" with the other throngs of people on campus. After we got inside, we looked at all the options and settled on the sandwich line. I ordered a BLT on wheatberry bread. The man behind the counter asked if I wanted the bread toasted and I told him yes and moved down, so ACR could order. She looked at the menu and finally said, "I'll have the one meat sub." He asked her what meat....she looked confused for a moment and then laughed when she realized what she'd said. After she told him "turkey", he turned to me and said, "Don't worry...after a week of eating here, she'll be an old pro at ordering sandwiches."

I was stunned. This man thought ACR was my *college freshman daughter* and that I was *her mother*. Oh....man....
ACR wasn't insulted about that, but rather that he thought she was a freshman, when she is so obviously a junior. I really need to get a different hairstyle or more sleep or something, if people are mistaking me for being old.

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Thursday, August 21, 2003

My mother e-mailed me to ask what I was fixing for supper tonight. I told her it was Hamburger night, because I wanted to use up the last of a three pound pack I'd bought on sale. She wrote back to ask what I was going to make with the hamburger. I replied, "Hamburgers. You know, those meat patties that go on a bun? A small restaurant chain called McDonald's sells similar items, I'm told."

I wouldn't have been so snarky, but I have had a headache all day today. I even bummed some "medication" from Ms. Drug Seeker and it hasn't helped at all.

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Our New Temp just told me that she saw a man driving a motorized wheelchair with spinners on it.

What is the world coming to?

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Wednesday, August 20, 2003

Someone at work printed out this story about an elevator that decapitated a doctor. They forgot about it and and left it on the printer, so I read it. The article prompted me to wonder whether it would it have been worse to have been on the outside of the elevator and see the severed head rolling down the hall, or to have been stuck inside the elevator for twenty minutes with the headless body.

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Tuesday, August 19, 2003

The Almighty Cthulhu took issue with my blog entry from yesterday that said "Someone else with knowledge of all things alcoholic", because it didn't reference him by name. I told him he is my only authori-tie on alcoholic matters, so everyone should already know it is him. He just wanted to make sure.

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Back in the olden days, I went on yearly summer vacations with my family. Most of the time, we ended up at the same hotel in Ormond Beach, Florida. My mother was a fanatic about not wanting a room on the first floor, since "bugs" might "walk in" to the street-level room. Once we got assigned a room by the front desk, she had to visit it first and proclaim it bug-free before we could bring up the suitcases. There were many room changes due to this policy. Inside the room, she would produce a can of Raid and spray down the dresser drawers, baseboards and bathroom before we could enter.

All these memories came flooding back to me while I was on break this morning. I'd walked across the street to a tall office building to climb the stairs. On the landing between the fifth and sixth floors was a very large, very dead roach lying on its back. I guess I just hoped it was dead, as I didn't flip it over to find out. Part of me wanted to e-mail my mother and tell her that roaches can climb. The other part of me just wanted to get the heck out of that infested stairwell.

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Monday, August 18, 2003

Some days I really hate working here. We ordered 30 laptops with 512MB of memory from IBM and waited the usual and customary 8-10 months to actually receive them. We'd sold a fair number of them when a customer returned with one and said it only had 256MB installed. Sh*&#tbag Co-Worker opened up *eight* more laptop boxes before I made him stop, as it was clear that IBM had sent us systems that had been incorrectly configured. I gave the customer a box of memory and sent him away, then e-mailed IBM to find out what the problem was with our order.

"Ooops!" was the reply. They sent out 30 little boxes of memory to "complete" our order with them. Now I have to contact everyone who bought one these dang laptops and let them know we have their "extra" memory. I had to install the memory on the eight systems that were opened.

As I sat in my office doing the installations, KIA walked in and said, "Are you the official memory installer now?" Yeah, that's it. Then, I walked out with one of the boxes to put it back on the sales floor with a note about the memory and Sh*&#tbag Co-Worker asked, "Hey, are you the official memory installer now?" I admit that I just looked at him and said nothing, because I was going to snap if anyone else in the store said it again.

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Someone has let me know that the ceramic smoking baby has its origins in Bolivian folklore. Ekeko is a fortune-bearer god whose figurines bring luck if given as a gift.

Someone else with knowledge of all things alcoholic corrected my misguided notion about beer sales in the Commonwealth of Virginia by sending me this e-mail: "In VA yes liquor is state run but the groceries sell beer, wine, and all the hard cider malt liquor beverages."

So there you have it.

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This is just wrong: Ceramic Smoking Baby.

And why can't I think up stuff like this to sell and make buckets-full of cash?

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I tried this recipe for Crockpot Oatmeal last night. While there was no "fresh aroma of a hearty morning meal wafting through the house" this AM, it was nice to have a hot breakfast ready when I got out of the shower. Next time, I'll reduce the amount of butter and milk, because the result was very thin. Incredibly tasty, but more like regular cereal in milk.

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Sunday, August 17, 2003

I got stuck sitting in the back of church this morning with the other late-comers. There are far too many distractions back there. Our priest is a 72-year old Vietnamese man. Even though he has lived in this country for 50 years, he still doesn't have the greatest command of the English language. You really have to listen to what he's saying if you want to understand the homily. Mass starts at 10:30 in the morning, and I find that he keeps talking until someone's watch beeps 11. When I am paying attention, I can't figure out what his stories (while sometimes entertaining) have to do with the readings. Sitting in the back, on a folding chair, next to the confessional booth, I couldn't hear half of what he was saying. I ended up mesmerized by a spot of sun on the floor. I watched it slowly cross over four floorboards before he sat down.

The church was filled to overflowing, yet after Communion, half of it was empty. I don't understand the people who leave early. All that's left is the ending announcements and one song. Two men sitting in front of me were early-leavers. After I left church, I drove to the grocery store and saw them in the produce section. Why had they ditched five minutes of church just to get a head start at the store?

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Saturday, August 16, 2003

I drove out to my sister-in-law's new house today to test drive a 1999 Dodge Durango SLT she wants to sell me. When I got there, she was standing outside the garage, smoking a cigarette.

Me: "I thought you went to the doctor for something to help you quit."
Her: "He gave me a prescription for Wellbutrin. I find that if I take the medicine AND smoke, I feel SO much better...."

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Many of you have inquired about CK, so here is a picture of what she would look like if she were a South Park character:

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Friday, August 15, 2003

The principal of my high school is retiring this year after working out of the same office for 25 years. I received an invitation to the big party that's being held tonight, but the cover charge was $25 per person. I guess the steep fee is to keep out all the riff-raff.

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CK came into The Boss's office to ask a question this afternoon. During the conversation, she said, "State store...is that where they sell the liquor?" On her way out of his office, I asked, "Why would the state be in the business of selling alcohol?" She replied that it's all about money. So I said, "I hear that in Virginia, they have a state-run store that sells liquor, and that you can't buy beer in the supermarket." The boss called out, "I hear that in Virginia, they work from 8 to 5."

Snapped by the Back To Work whip yet again.

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Thursday, August 14, 2003

Who votes for a blog template change? The three column table is a little hard to read, I think. If no one minds, I may switch the look to something else. =)

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I was looking up the referral stats for the blog and got depressed at the sheer number of people who were actually looking for "Tobishi Television". I hope they weren't too disappointed when they found out that for me, the word is only a bastardization of Toshiba and Mitsubishi as generated by my mother. She also says "warshing machine", but I didn't see any searches for that.

Here's a sampling of the breakdown of searches that led people here:

Tobishi Television, Omega International Lottery Scam, McGriddles, Mustard Left Out on Counter, Pringle of Scotland Men, Let The Wookie Win T-Shirt

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I have no time to deal with KIA's meddling today. The boss is out this morning and I have a metric crapload of work to complete, but she views his absence as an opportunity to come into my office and "report" the other workers.

Our tech support guy came around yesterday to run Windows Update for the PC users, but KIA claimed she could take care of her system herself. Her system has AS MANY problems as the computers used by the incompetent virus-carriers in the office. She came in to tell me that The Angry Old Woman was using CK's computer when KIA walked in this morning. KIA attempted to remove TAOW by telling her she needed that computer to run a critical report. TAOW responded that she was unable to "get into" her computer since the tech support guy worked on it. KIA confided that *she thinks* TAOW just forgot her network password and *that's* why she couldn't use her own computer. I asked if TAOW was using her own computer now, and KIA said yes, but that *she thinks* it's only because Ms. Drug Seeker gave TAOW *her* password. I find that unlikely, since they aren't speaking to each other, but I wanted KIA out of my space.

KIA continued to ramble on about the other systems that needed updating and how she'd just do it herself. I told her the tech support guy was coming today to finish the installations. She said that the computers aren't "down as long" when *she* does the update (because she's forgetting to do something, probably). I told her that it would be better to let the tech support guy do the updating, and then if something went wrong, we could blame him; otherwise, if she did them and something went wrong, tech support would blame us and take the machine away for days to work on it. She almost launched into her "I've been working on computers since the day of the punch card" speech, but fortunately my phone rang and I had to beg off.

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Tuesday, August 12, 2003

According to the CNN website, the Unabomber wants some of his books returned by the federal government. The scary part of the request is that he specifically asked for "several Montana phone books". I don't think he's going to use them to prop up the bunk in his cell.

Note to self: upon moving to Montana, obtain unlisted telephone number.

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Monday, August 11, 2003

The Almighty Cthulhu got a new chair at work today. It very much resembles this chair: Star Wars: Episode II | Seat of Power .

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Saturday, August 09, 2003

Last night I saw "Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl". It was amazing to see a great film that managed to be engaging even without cursing and nudity. A little boy next to me kept asking his dad why they couldn't go see "Spy Kids 3D" instead of the one they were seeing. In an effort to see the other movie, the kid kept asking to go to the bathroom and would apparently slip into the Spy Kids theater on the way back. But I digress...the Pirates movie was absolutely great, and I will be purchasing the DVD when it is released.

MIL invited me to her house for supper tonight, since her sister is in town. I stopped by, as I thought it would be a nice visit, but other people were also invited. The other people brought their four children, and of course, all four were ill. We ate supper and one of the kids only ate the red Jell-O. Or, at least that's what he puked up on the dining room carpet. This is where socializing has its pitfalls. I would have rather stayed home and begged off with some lame excuse than spend my Saturday evening watching a sick kid vomit. If only there were some sort of Magic 8-Ball for these situations. You could ask, "Will tonight's gathering suck?" and if the ball responds with, "Most assuredly", you could phone up the host/hostess and tell them you can't make it.

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I saw a hummingbird in real life outside my kitchen window today. From all the pictures I'd seen, I thought they were jewel-colored birds, so I wasn't sure. I first saw it land on the ladder outside and I thought, "That sure is a small brown bird, but it's not colored like a finch". Then I saw its elongated beak and figured it out. Now my littly cat, Packy, is outside sitting on the ladder, so I am unlikely to see the hummingbird again.

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Friday, August 08, 2003

The Angry Old Woman has been on vacation this week, so the workplace environment has been on a very even keel. There have been no attempted mutinies and no employee has tried to snap the neck of another with impunity. The sounds of silence will end Monday with her dreaded return.

Speaking of vacation, I was talking to the manager at our warehouse and he was telling me that he'd taken a week off and driven out of state to see his daughter, but that he'd experienced car trouble. I told him that was a coincidence, as I'd also had some car trouble while I was out. I asked him what happened and he said that the car overheated and he had to get the water pump replaced. After the work was finished, he continued on his way and the brakes went out. He managed to pull off the interstate safely and found out his brake fluid reservoir was empty. Upon his return from a hike to the nearest gas station, he refilled the reservoir and continued on. Several miles later, the brakes went out again. Apparently, when he got his water pump replaced under warranty at the dealer, the "certified mechanics" moved his brake lines out of the way and propped them behind a strut. Once placed, they were promptly forgotten, then sliced through by all the driving.

He then told me about all the other major systems disasters the car has gone through, and said he was glad the car was still under warranty. I asked him how many miles he had on the car and his answer surprised me: 30,000. So I asked how old the car was: 3 years old. I was astounded, and I asked what the heck kind of car it was, in order that I may stay far, far away from one. It was a Hyundai Accent.

After he finished regaling me with this car affliction story, he asked me what sort of car trouble I'd had. I told him the Vehicle Speed Sensor (VSS) had crapped out, causing the speedometer and odometer to stop working. I'm getting awful gas mileage because the fuel injectors don't know what to do, since they don't know how fast I'm travelling. He asked how many miles I had on my car when the odometer quit. I almost felt guilty telling him: 193,000. Then it was his turn to be astounded and he asked what year it was: 1994. It is a Honda Accord in basic black.

Other than tires, brakes, mufflers, oil changes, routine maintenance like changing fuses, lamps, etc., and replacement of the CV boots (after a 4300 mile trip that took me off-road in Montana), I have had no problems with this car. I bought it in 1996 when it was two years old. If and when I need another car, I hope I can buy another Accord. The total cost of ownership has been far less than for any other car I've owned. It has never needed to have a carburetor sprayed down every morning like my 1966 Chevy Impala; never been unable to find parts for it like my 1976 Datsun B210; never broke down on the highway like my 1979 VW Rabbit; never looked as ugly as my 1980 Monte Carlo; and never burst into flames at an intersection like my 1983 Volvo 760GLE.

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Wednesday, August 06, 2003

Speaking of old albums, I e-mailed The Almighty Cthulhu at work and asked if he had any special requests, since I was sending my records out into the world for others to enjoy. His response was, "Yeah, if you have Asshat Jones and the Sh$#@tbag Five, that would be great." Clearly, the stress has gotten to him.

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Apparently, my latest round of house cleaning has sparked a neighborhood rumor that I am moving. Two Mondays ago I hauled out a metric crapload of trash for the garbage pick-up. This past Saturday, I filled the trunk of my car with bags of clothes and household goods that I donated to the Salvation Army. Then, this morning I was walking to the car with an armload of old vinyl record albums when the elderly woman across the street called me over to her porch.

Her: "Are you moving?"
Me: "No, I'm not moving..."
Her: "What are you going to do with those?"
Me: "I'm taking them to some friends at work. I am divesting myself of my collection and getting rid of the clutter in the house."
Her: "Then where did you take all those bags you put in the trunk this weekend?"
Me: "To the thrift store."
Her: "OH! (with a sound of genuine relief) You really weren't taking stuff away to a new place!"

I assured her I wasn't moving out and wondered what else she sees when she looks out the window. I think she and the Mormon lady from next door get together and dish. They probably concocted this idea together.

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Monday, August 04, 2003

My bank completely sucks. I get paid on the last day of the month, and it has been this way for years. I have my paycheck direct deposited, then write checks for my bills. Of late (the past 6-9 months), I have noticed that the bank will "hold" checks to process until the last day of the month. Then they will rush a bunch through, and put my deposit through last. This causes a false "overdraft" and they charge me buckets of service fees. I had chalked it up as an annoyance until this last paycheck.

I got a letter that said they'd "returned" $1200 worth of checks ON the last day of the month. They dinged my account with a $175 service fee, plus now I have to pay a return check fee from all the places where I'd written the checks. I called up the auto-bot to see what the heck happened. She read off the list of the last five deposits. They were all the non-processed checks. I listened to the next five deposits and she finally listed my paycheck. All of these "deposits" were processed on July 31. Only, it was AFTER they'd processed the checks I'd written at the beginning of the effing month of July! Now they claim that as of today, I have $300 in checking, and this supposedly counts my entire paycheck, the "deposits" of "returned checks", and a check a relative gave me. Where the devil is my money?! I guess they are making their money off the service fees they are charging their customers who can least afford these types of games.

I have switched my direct deposit to the credit union where they said standard banking procedure is to process checks as they are received, and to process all credits before any debits.

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I was reading crime reports from snitch.com because they are extra-funny: Zip Code Crime Watch. I have seen the print version and it spans several pages. I especially like comments like, "Man's blinged out car stereo now pumping in someone else's ride", instead of "Theft". Sometimes they make fun of the person who called in the complaint, and that also makes me giggle.

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Sunday, August 03, 2003

Yesterday I drove to the state capital to visit the game farm run by the fish and wildlife department. I had planned to attend a Lewis and Clark survival skills workshop, but it had been cancelled due to lack of interest. The guy at the desk (dressed in period costume) felt bad that I had driven all that way after calling Friday to confirm that the class was still being held. So, he took me out back and taught me how to shoot a muzzleloader. What fun!

In passing, I told the guy that my neighbor up the street makes muzzleloaders and has a forge in his backyard. He immediately knew who I was talking about and flipped the gun over to show me my neighbor's signature in the metal plate. I said, "Small world, I guess" and he said the muzzleloader world is miniscule.

That blackpowder and flintlock sure does result in a satisfying Ka-POW! when the gun is fired.

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