Saturday, May 31, 2008
Friday, May 30, 2008
Seasons Change
I had woken up hot at 3:30 Wednesday morning when The Kitty wanted to be fed and I was still hot hours later when my alarm went off. I was hot when I brushed teeth and I did not get less hot as I got dressed. It was not cooler when I got downstairs. It was hot.
The dog was panting. The Kitty did a face plant into his water bowl. By the time everyone had been out to pee, fed, pilled, taken out again and tucked into bed - I was panting. I was going to have to think about maybe turning the A/C on . I decided to think about it and maybe do it after work, but before I could leave for work I needed to find The Kitty, I like to do a head count before I leave for the day and I couldn’t find him. I knew he was there, I had just seen him - but that didn’t count. We had reached the portion of the morning when I tell the little animals, individually and in general. That I am leaving for work and I want him or her to watch the house - but I can’t do that until I see them.
Dogger is easy. It’s not easy for her to hide, she can and has, but you lose your dog once under the dining room table, you don’t get fooled again. But I couldn’t find The Kitty. I looked and I looked and to illustrate how frantic I was getting, I called for him, cats don’t come when they’re called! They especially don’t come when they’re called when they have established that you are looking for them. I looked under beds, swatted at curtains, checked all the chairs, checked the bathroom twice to make sure he hadn’t gotten trapped in there the last time I had checked in there. Oh, and it wasn’t getting cooler in the house. I used my time frantically searching for The Kitty by opening all the available windows I cam across. I didn’t want my iddle babies to spend the day in sauna.
I finally found him hiding under the head of the upstairs bed, behind a rolled up carpet remnant. I said my goodbyes and finally, left for work. By the time lunch rolled around a front had come through the temperature had dropped and the heat of the morning had been replaced with cold, gusty winds and rain. I rushed home to close all the windows and make sure my iddle babies didn’t spend the day in a freezer.
By the time I came home for the day it had settled into being rainy and cold for the end of May. A perfect day for the dog park. It really was. It was perfect for Dogger. The park was completely empty! Dogger got the rare treat of being off leash at the off leash dog park. We wandered around and Dogger ran full tilt across the park and sniffed every tree and got a chance to stalk a squirrel and generally got to be an unleashed dog. It was great fun. It was rainy, cold and nasty, but it was the best time we’re had at the park in a long time. We haven’t been to the park in weeks. A year and half ago this would have been unthinkable. Raining? there, Cold? there Too hot? there. We were there every day rain or shine even when it was so hot Dogger and the rest of the dogs just lay there like lumps . A rainy day like Wednesday wouldn’t have bothered anyone. But on Wednesday we were alone and grateful for it.
I had woken up hot at 3:30 Wednesday morning when The Kitty wanted to be fed and I was still hot hours later when my alarm went off. I was hot when I brushed teeth and I did not get less hot as I got dressed. It was not cooler when I got downstairs. It was hot.
The dog was panting. The Kitty did a face plant into his water bowl. By the time everyone had been out to pee, fed, pilled, taken out again and tucked into bed - I was panting. I was going to have to think about maybe turning the A/C on . I decided to think about it and maybe do it after work, but before I could leave for work I needed to find The Kitty, I like to do a head count before I leave for the day and I couldn’t find him. I knew he was there, I had just seen him - but that didn’t count. We had reached the portion of the morning when I tell the little animals, individually and in general. That I am leaving for work and I want him or her to watch the house - but I can’t do that until I see them.
Dogger is easy. It’s not easy for her to hide, she can and has, but you lose your dog once under the dining room table, you don’t get fooled again. But I couldn’t find The Kitty. I looked and I looked and to illustrate how frantic I was getting, I called for him, cats don’t come when they’re called! They especially don’t come when they’re called when they have established that you are looking for them. I looked under beds, swatted at curtains, checked all the chairs, checked the bathroom twice to make sure he hadn’t gotten trapped in there the last time I had checked in there. Oh, and it wasn’t getting cooler in the house. I used my time frantically searching for The Kitty by opening all the available windows I cam across. I didn’t want my iddle babies to spend the day in sauna.
I finally found him hiding under the head of the upstairs bed, behind a rolled up carpet remnant. I said my goodbyes and finally, left for work. By the time lunch rolled around a front had come through the temperature had dropped and the heat of the morning had been replaced with cold, gusty winds and rain. I rushed home to close all the windows and make sure my iddle babies didn’t spend the day in a freezer.
By the time I came home for the day it had settled into being rainy and cold for the end of May. A perfect day for the dog park. It really was. It was perfect for Dogger. The park was completely empty! Dogger got the rare treat of being off leash at the off leash dog park. We wandered around and Dogger ran full tilt across the park and sniffed every tree and got a chance to stalk a squirrel and generally got to be an unleashed dog. It was great fun. It was rainy, cold and nasty, but it was the best time we’re had at the park in a long time. We haven’t been to the park in weeks. A year and half ago this would have been unthinkable. Raining? there, Cold? there Too hot? there. We were there every day rain or shine even when it was so hot Dogger and the rest of the dogs just lay there like lumps . A rainy day like Wednesday wouldn’t have bothered anyone. But on Wednesday we were alone and grateful for it.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Dr. Diana Venkman
On Montuesday while I was taking twenty-three thousand messages off the answering machine, I was so bored - Abuse, neglect ,malpractice, short staffing, bad food, no hot water - yada, yada, yada, They killed Mama!, They Have No Food In The Building!, Rats In The Halls!. Whatever, you know? I’ve heard it all before.
And then, towards the end of this litany of misery ...My house is haunted and I need your help
Say what?
My House Is Haunted And I Need Your Help Oh. That's different
The other complaints, I can’t deal with, but a haunting? Hauntings I can deal with. So I went online and looked up Para-Normal research in North Carolina and got hits. I did a little leg work and found one that included a phone number. I like phone numbers, they give the allusion of somewhere to call and that there will be someone there to answer. It lends gravitas to a group that claims to be real life ghost busters, I mean if they can afford a phone number and web hosting, they must be legit. Right?
Phone number in hand I called back Mr. Haunted. He had a crazy message on his machine, but he wasn’t calling from a mental hospital. I left a message and hours later, he called back. We had a routine conversation, as routine a conversation as you can when you are talking about ghosts with someone who claims to be being harassed by them. He mentioned that all of this was giving him a “nervous breakdown”, I took this opportunity to tell him if he needed mental health care that he should call his local Department of Social Services and they could help him with that, he said he was all ready seeing a “Lady doctor” and he had seen her three times and she was a good doctor. Confident his fragile mental health was in good hands, I gave him the number and felt good about helping this poor guy. Problem solved, I told the Social Worker about it and we laughed.
Well. He called me back. He said he had been calling the number all morning and they hadn’t answered. I asked how many times he called, he said “about 30", I told him to stop calling them and give it a rest. Perhaps they weren’t set up for that kind of call volume, maybe the machine was full, maybe they just weren’t home. I told him to call them later.
Wednesday afternoon he called me again. The people were simply not there, he said. He needed a new number, he really, really needed help he said, the ghosts were there all the time. He would go to bed by himself and when he woke up there were all over the bed, walking around his house. I asked him when this started and he said “about a year ago, after my wife died”.
I asked him if he was sure these were ghosts, that somehow these weren’t real people in his house. He said they were most certainly ghosts. His hand went right though them when he tried to touch them and the disappeared when he spoke with them. I asked if he had told them forcefully to go away. He said he had.
I was running out of ghost talk. I led with questions about cold spots and unexplained noises or missing articles. No, not really he said, but his phones had stopped working last week. I asked if he blamed the ghosts for this, he said yes. He told me about the big groups of people, I asked what they were wearing, he said “old looking clothes”. I said I would find him a different set of ghost hunters.
I found another one, but without a phone number, they were all email. I still had Mr. Haunted on the phone and he said he doesn’t have email. I told him that I would fill out the questionnaire for him and send it in. This also gave me the opportunity to get his name and address and phone number. Important information to have. I was worried about this person.
I suspect that after the death of his wife he became very lonely and depressed I think he created these images to make him feel less alone. I think they are people from his past and they comforted him and made him feel less alone, they are dressed in “old clothes” because that is what they were wearing in the photographs he is remembering them from. That “lady doctor” he spoke of possibly gave him some meds for depression and they are now causing him to hallucinate .
I emailed the ghost busters and told Mr. Haunted to wait to hear from them. We hung up. Then I went back to the Social Worker.
She asked if I had called APS (Adult Protective Services), I said I hadn’t thought of that. She said call them and tell them about Mr. Haunted, he may need more help then ghost busting. I called the county and spoke with someone and I told them all I knew about Mr. Haunted and his dead wife and the ghosts and filed a report. Mr. Haunted is going to be getting visitors less spectral, but maybe more frightening.
On Montuesday while I was taking twenty-three thousand messages off the answering machine, I was so bored - Abuse, neglect ,malpractice, short staffing, bad food, no hot water - yada, yada, yada, They killed Mama!, They Have No Food In The Building!, Rats In The Halls!. Whatever, you know? I’ve heard it all before.
And then, towards the end of this litany of misery ...My house is haunted and I need your help
Say what?
My House Is Haunted And I Need Your Help Oh. That's different
The other complaints, I can’t deal with, but a haunting? Hauntings I can deal with. So I went online and looked up Para-Normal research in North Carolina and got hits. I did a little leg work and found one that included a phone number. I like phone numbers, they give the allusion of somewhere to call and that there will be someone there to answer. It lends gravitas to a group that claims to be real life ghost busters, I mean if they can afford a phone number and web hosting, they must be legit. Right?
Phone number in hand I called back Mr. Haunted. He had a crazy message on his machine, but he wasn’t calling from a mental hospital. I left a message and hours later, he called back. We had a routine conversation, as routine a conversation as you can when you are talking about ghosts with someone who claims to be being harassed by them. He mentioned that all of this was giving him a “nervous breakdown”, I took this opportunity to tell him if he needed mental health care that he should call his local Department of Social Services and they could help him with that, he said he was all ready seeing a “Lady doctor” and he had seen her three times and she was a good doctor. Confident his fragile mental health was in good hands, I gave him the number and felt good about helping this poor guy. Problem solved, I told the Social Worker about it and we laughed.
Well. He called me back. He said he had been calling the number all morning and they hadn’t answered. I asked how many times he called, he said “about 30", I told him to stop calling them and give it a rest. Perhaps they weren’t set up for that kind of call volume, maybe the machine was full, maybe they just weren’t home. I told him to call them later.
Wednesday afternoon he called me again. The people were simply not there, he said. He needed a new number, he really, really needed help he said, the ghosts were there all the time. He would go to bed by himself and when he woke up there were all over the bed, walking around his house. I asked him when this started and he said “about a year ago, after my wife died”.
I asked him if he was sure these were ghosts, that somehow these weren’t real people in his house. He said they were most certainly ghosts. His hand went right though them when he tried to touch them and the disappeared when he spoke with them. I asked if he had told them forcefully to go away. He said he had.
I was running out of ghost talk. I led with questions about cold spots and unexplained noises or missing articles. No, not really he said, but his phones had stopped working last week. I asked if he blamed the ghosts for this, he said yes. He told me about the big groups of people, I asked what they were wearing, he said “old looking clothes”. I said I would find him a different set of ghost hunters.
I found another one, but without a phone number, they were all email. I still had Mr. Haunted on the phone and he said he doesn’t have email. I told him that I would fill out the questionnaire for him and send it in. This also gave me the opportunity to get his name and address and phone number. Important information to have. I was worried about this person.
I suspect that after the death of his wife he became very lonely and depressed I think he created these images to make him feel less alone. I think they are people from his past and they comforted him and made him feel less alone, they are dressed in “old clothes” because that is what they were wearing in the photographs he is remembering them from. That “lady doctor” he spoke of possibly gave him some meds for depression and they are now causing him to hallucinate .
I emailed the ghost busters and told Mr. Haunted to wait to hear from them. We hung up. Then I went back to the Social Worker.
She asked if I had called APS (Adult Protective Services), I said I hadn’t thought of that. She said call them and tell them about Mr. Haunted, he may need more help then ghost busting. I called the county and spoke with someone and I told them all I knew about Mr. Haunted and his dead wife and the ghosts and filed a report. Mr. Haunted is going to be getting visitors less spectral, but maybe more frightening.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Slow and steady wins the race
Now I feel better, my suit case is still full but my bike is out of the kitchen. It doesn’t matter good the food is, or how good a year it was for chateau Good Year, it is going to taste like a bike tire. There is a reason that your better restaurants have a No Bikes In The Kitchen rule.
I’m pretty sure that the bag is going to remain packed as my plans for the evening are solely to watch a DVD that has been sitting around for over a week. I took it with me for the long weekend thinking that maybe there would be time to watch it or perhaps my hotel room would come equipped with a DVD player. My guess would be that if you are spending your vacation in your hotel room watching a DVD the accepted wisdom would be that you are doing it wrong. But of they weren’t going to include a DVD player they could have at least offered better TV than they did. If you spend any time in your hotel room watching the NASCAR network? You are doing everything wrong. Being held captive by personal electronics is one thing, spending the money for a “Junior Nation” passport is another. Knowing what the “Junior Nation” is, is just sad.
I blame NPR. I was driving along, minding my own business listening to one or another of their correspondents reporting from China about how sad and destructive the earthquake was to the Chinese people the quake zone. I get it! It was massive, it was horrible, tens of thousands were killed, there are countless thousands homeless, the hospitals are over matched... Do we need to speak with every one of the survivors? Is it necessary to mine these peoples trauma further? Hi! Your life is ruined! Can you tell us what that feels like?
So I turned the station and stumbled upon some sort of Dale Earnhardt, Junior worship hour - But it took a while to figure out who “Junior” was. They wouldn’t say, I guess they assumed that if you had tuned in, you were all ready turned on. I knew it had something to do with car racing but I would assume that most of the racers are called some variation of Junior.
There can only be one Junior and He is the one true Junior and there are no other Juniors before him. I think if Obama wants to win over Hillery's hard working white people he needs to appear on the Junior Power Hour and then show up at Darlington with a giant number 3 in the back window of his car, the flacks and secret service guys outfitted in flame retardant red white and blue jump suits. Those hard working white people will still vote overwhelmly for McCain but at least Obama will be on record as trying. It’s hard to look over smart or over paid in a jump suit.
After feeling my IQ free falling, I returned to the welcoming embrace of the tragic Chinese and the professional mourners of NPR.
I thought that if I took Dogger out of her environment for a few days that it might be like hitting some sort of canine restart button. Before we left she had learned how to get to The Kitty’s food dish. At first I thought Oh, how cute! and then I remembered $19 a bag and decided that I needed to snuff this new trick out. I needed to either convince Dogger that the expensive cat food was not a hot new taste for spring or if failing at that, try to convince The Kitty that the place where he happily eats his food at night can also be a good place to eat his food during the day.
He does not agree. He can not eat out of his upstairs bowl during the day. It is simply not done. He has a night time dish that lives upstairs and a daytime bowl and it is in the kitchen. Lately, it is under constant bombardment from Dogger but it is the only suitable food dish for daytime meals. In the past when I have tried to move this bowl, it has led to The Kitty simply not eating during the day, and in the past this was not a bad thing. Today however, The Kitty does not need to fast during the day.
I have tried stacking things on front as well as on top of the banquet that hosts The Kitty's bowl but I think it just made it that much more of a challenge for Dogger and an obstacle course for The Kitty and myself. While dogs may get all excited by such obstacles and see them as exciting, cats find them insulting and demeaning. Cats are not turned on by agility or athleticism. They are naturally agile and athletic and they see no need for them to compete with each other to see who is the most or the best. They just want to get to their kibble.
My next plot is to block the door of the kitchen high enough to thwart the dog but not so high as to place a barricade between the cat and his dish. Poor Kitty.
Now I feel better, my suit case is still full but my bike is out of the kitchen. It doesn’t matter good the food is, or how good a year it was for chateau Good Year, it is going to taste like a bike tire. There is a reason that your better restaurants have a No Bikes In The Kitchen rule.
I’m pretty sure that the bag is going to remain packed as my plans for the evening are solely to watch a DVD that has been sitting around for over a week. I took it with me for the long weekend thinking that maybe there would be time to watch it or perhaps my hotel room would come equipped with a DVD player. My guess would be that if you are spending your vacation in your hotel room watching a DVD the accepted wisdom would be that you are doing it wrong. But of they weren’t going to include a DVD player they could have at least offered better TV than they did. If you spend any time in your hotel room watching the NASCAR network? You are doing everything wrong. Being held captive by personal electronics is one thing, spending the money for a “Junior Nation” passport is another. Knowing what the “Junior Nation” is, is just sad.
I blame NPR. I was driving along, minding my own business listening to one or another of their correspondents reporting from China about how sad and destructive the earthquake was to the Chinese people the quake zone. I get it! It was massive, it was horrible, tens of thousands were killed, there are countless thousands homeless, the hospitals are over matched... Do we need to speak with every one of the survivors? Is it necessary to mine these peoples trauma further? Hi! Your life is ruined! Can you tell us what that feels like?
So I turned the station and stumbled upon some sort of Dale Earnhardt, Junior worship hour - But it took a while to figure out who “Junior” was. They wouldn’t say, I guess they assumed that if you had tuned in, you were all ready turned on. I knew it had something to do with car racing but I would assume that most of the racers are called some variation of Junior.
There can only be one Junior and He is the one true Junior and there are no other Juniors before him. I think if Obama wants to win over Hillery's hard working white people he needs to appear on the Junior Power Hour and then show up at Darlington with a giant number 3 in the back window of his car, the flacks and secret service guys outfitted in flame retardant red white and blue jump suits. Those hard working white people will still vote overwhelmly for McCain but at least Obama will be on record as trying. It’s hard to look over smart or over paid in a jump suit.
After feeling my IQ free falling, I returned to the welcoming embrace of the tragic Chinese and the professional mourners of NPR.
I thought that if I took Dogger out of her environment for a few days that it might be like hitting some sort of canine restart button. Before we left she had learned how to get to The Kitty’s food dish. At first I thought Oh, how cute! and then I remembered $19 a bag and decided that I needed to snuff this new trick out. I needed to either convince Dogger that the expensive cat food was not a hot new taste for spring or if failing at that, try to convince The Kitty that the place where he happily eats his food at night can also be a good place to eat his food during the day.
He does not agree. He can not eat out of his upstairs bowl during the day. It is simply not done. He has a night time dish that lives upstairs and a daytime bowl and it is in the kitchen. Lately, it is under constant bombardment from Dogger but it is the only suitable food dish for daytime meals. In the past when I have tried to move this bowl, it has led to The Kitty simply not eating during the day, and in the past this was not a bad thing. Today however, The Kitty does not need to fast during the day.
I have tried stacking things on front as well as on top of the banquet that hosts The Kitty's bowl but I think it just made it that much more of a challenge for Dogger and an obstacle course for The Kitty and myself. While dogs may get all excited by such obstacles and see them as exciting, cats find them insulting and demeaning. Cats are not turned on by agility or athleticism. They are naturally agile and athletic and they see no need for them to compete with each other to see who is the most or the best. They just want to get to their kibble.
My next plot is to block the door of the kitchen high enough to thwart the dog but not so high as to place a barricade between the cat and his dish. Poor Kitty.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
The Long Weekend is over...
But what a weekend!
First, as promised, I went to the circus, truly the 483rd Greatest Show on Earth and what it was missing in Gee Whiz! Circus Magic! it more than made up for in sheer earnestness and desire to entertain.
And after that, I found this really kewl falling down building and took pictures of it!
And after that,Gawd, I was busy! I went to see Indy 4! If the first three were peons to the serials of the forties, admittedly, indoor bull stuff, the latest instalment is a homage to the drive-in movies of the fifties with their Cold War inspired red-baiting and attendent post-atomic panic. Adjust your expectations accordingly. Joe Bob says check it out.
But what a weekend!
First, as promised, I went to the circus, truly the 483rd Greatest Show on Earth and what it was missing in Gee Whiz! Circus Magic! it more than made up for in sheer earnestness and desire to entertain.
And after that, I found this really kewl falling down building and took pictures of it!
And after that,Gawd, I was busy! I went to see Indy 4! If the first three were peons to the serials of the forties, admittedly, indoor bull stuff, the latest instalment is a homage to the drive-in movies of the fifties with their Cold War inspired red-baiting and attendent post-atomic panic. Adjust your expectations accordingly. Joe Bob says check it out.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Friday, May 23, 2008
TGIF
I'm so glad it's Friday! It's been a long week. The phones at work have been going crazy all week and while I don't actually take those calls the people who do have been making me anxious. Not real surprising, the crazy volume of calls seems to be generated by crazy people. There are "behavioral health units" all over the state that are giving their patients way too much access to the unit pay phone. There is entirely too much time alloted to making phone calls and not enough time dedicated to therapeutic basket weaving. All of these callers are actually completely sane and really confused why those mean deputies hauled them in front a judge and why that mean old judge sent them here or they voluntarily committed themselves, but they are feeling much better now and are annoyed that they can't just voluntarily un-comit themselves, and every one of them are under the impression that we can do something for them. We can't.
We have a new hire who just started taking calls and while she's been training for three weeks, it's one thing to talk about the callers it's quite another to actually talk to them.
Even with the new hire we are still short staffed, our even more recent new hire won't be able to take calls for at least another week and the hiring process for new person #3 hasn't even started yet plus we have one intake person on vacation this week and when she gets back another is starting hers. Crazy Asshole was a worthless employee and the intake person who was on vacation this week is a gigantic whiner, but at least they were at work they were able to take calls and share the workload. I like the new people but they are far from carrying their own weight yet.
But its Friday. The Friday before a three day weekend! Thank You God! I'm excited about the circus too, I'm haven't been to one in years and I've never been to one as an adult and I don't think I've ever been to one that was not Ringling Brothers. The circus that I'm going to is out of Mexico, are Mexican circusi different from American circusi? Or are they just kind of like Kabuki, always the same no matter where they are performed? Do circusi have language independent of a spoken one? Are they reflective of the society that created them or do they reflect only what is before them? Is a clown car really just a clown car? Or do they symbolize something else entirely? do they really illustrate a society's lack of access to or acceptance of birth control?
Why yes, I do think too much. I blame it on the lame undergrad Psych of Women course I took one semester from a woman who was clinically humorless. There were two men, one hot, in that class and she called on the hot guy first evertime to get his thoughts as a man on whatever it was she was talking about and she was almost always talking about sex, not gender, sex. The woman couldn't recognize a cigar if she tripped over a humidor, but she could play spot the penis like a champ. She saw penis' everywhere and in everything. To this day I can't look at a pack of Camels without seeing the little man and his erect penis in the camel's leg.
I'm so glad it's Friday! It's been a long week. The phones at work have been going crazy all week and while I don't actually take those calls the people who do have been making me anxious. Not real surprising, the crazy volume of calls seems to be generated by crazy people. There are "behavioral health units" all over the state that are giving their patients way too much access to the unit pay phone. There is entirely too much time alloted to making phone calls and not enough time dedicated to therapeutic basket weaving. All of these callers are actually completely sane and really confused why those mean deputies hauled them in front a judge and why that mean old judge sent them here or they voluntarily committed themselves, but they are feeling much better now and are annoyed that they can't just voluntarily un-comit themselves, and every one of them are under the impression that we can do something for them. We can't.
We have a new hire who just started taking calls and while she's been training for three weeks, it's one thing to talk about the callers it's quite another to actually talk to them.
Even with the new hire we are still short staffed, our even more recent new hire won't be able to take calls for at least another week and the hiring process for new person #3 hasn't even started yet plus we have one intake person on vacation this week and when she gets back another is starting hers. Crazy Asshole was a worthless employee and the intake person who was on vacation this week is a gigantic whiner, but at least they were at work they were able to take calls and share the workload. I like the new people but they are far from carrying their own weight yet.
But its Friday. The Friday before a three day weekend! Thank You God! I'm excited about the circus too, I'm haven't been to one in years and I've never been to one as an adult and I don't think I've ever been to one that was not Ringling Brothers. The circus that I'm going to is out of Mexico, are Mexican circusi different from American circusi? Or are they just kind of like Kabuki, always the same no matter where they are performed? Do circusi have language independent of a spoken one? Are they reflective of the society that created them or do they reflect only what is before them? Is a clown car really just a clown car? Or do they symbolize something else entirely? do they really illustrate a society's lack of access to or acceptance of birth control?
Why yes, I do think too much. I blame it on the lame undergrad Psych of Women course I took one semester from a woman who was clinically humorless. There were two men, one hot, in that class and she called on the hot guy first evertime to get his thoughts as a man on whatever it was she was talking about and she was almost always talking about sex, not gender, sex. The woman couldn't recognize a cigar if she tripped over a humidor, but she could play spot the penis like a champ. She saw penis' everywhere and in everything. To this day I can't look at a pack of Camels without seeing the little man and his erect penis in the camel's leg.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Could be interesting.
"It is unfortunate that Mr. Rove has failed to cooperate with our requests,"
House panel subpoenas Rove
"It is unfortunate that Mr. Rove has failed to cooperate with our requests,"
House panel subpoenas Rove
Pain is our friend.
Truly, it is. Think of it as an early warning system. If something hurts we take care of it, if it hurts a lot, we take care of it now. The faster we take care of it, the less there is to take care of. Things that don't hurt don't get taken care of and as a result, a whole lot needs to be taken care of. Trust me, I know of whence I speak.
Yesterday was Dentist Appointment Day. When I called a week ago and explained to receptionist that I feared that I had a broken tooth and at the very least I had a cracked tooth and that my primary symptom was a quarter of the molar in question was loose and I needed an appointment now, the receptionist translated this as I was calling in to complain about a "chipped tooth" and left me to cool my heals for a week. Another significant road block to more timely access to care was my lack of pain. If you want to see your dentist now, tell the receptionist you are in pain, a lot of pain. The receptionist might get you in on Thursday.
My tooth and I were early, the receptionist asked if I was aware my appointment wasn't until 2pm. I said I knew this, I also now knew that I wasn't going to get in early. Your dentist office isn't the same as the girl who cuts your hair, their philosophies about appointment times is quite different and yet they both deal with emergency appointments. A broken tooth, a bad home dye job. Tomato , tamatoh.. Personally, I am a huge proponent of first come first served.
The dentist finally saw me. Imagine his surprise that I was not actually there for a chipped tooth. I avoided the dentist office for years and he thinks I would subject myself to the dentists chair for a chipped tooth? Dentist, please.
First, he pumped my jaw full of Novocaine. Full. I have a head cold now but I don't care because I can't feel anything below my hair line or above my waist. And then he and his minion drilled. I don't care how numb I am the sound of the drill makes me tense up like a spring. Drill, drill, drill. My toothlet fell out. A quarter of a molar is a pretty big bit of tooth. I was surprised it took so much to fall out because in my mouth it felt like a strong breeze would have knocked it out. I could been eating real food all this time. Oh point of order about commercially available mashed potatoes, Sam's Club makes a kick ass version. Kroger's mashed potatoes taste like reconstituted potato flakes.
Any way.
They took x-rays and they found a toy surprise. My tooth is not only cracked it is abscessed.. . A lot. And has been for a while. Just about as long as it has been fractured, and oddly, I'm not in pain, not yet at least but now that I know I should be in pain I'm going to wake up at 2am howling in agony. Should I mention I've been a frequent visitor to my dentist since March? I'm there all the damn time, I've been x-rayed, had a cavity filled, a crown placed and had my teeth cleaned, and they didn't notice the giant fissure? The dentist looked in my mouth and said was It isn't chipped is it? I felt so comforted.
My tooth is toast. It may be fixable though, there are cracked and or broken teeth that present as more screwed then my tooth. I might be a candidate for a root canal. Or I might not, I have an appointment with an endodontist to make a final call on that. He'll either say it can be saved or it needs to be pulled, some teeth are so broken and damaged that there is nothing they can do. So if it's good news I get to undergo a root canal and if it's bad news I get an extraction. Sounds like six of one and a half dozen of the other to me.
I left the office with two prescriptions, one for a high enough dose of penicillin to cure the clap and another for enough vicodin to change my name to Gregiana House.
Truly, it is. Think of it as an early warning system. If something hurts we take care of it, if it hurts a lot, we take care of it now. The faster we take care of it, the less there is to take care of. Things that don't hurt don't get taken care of and as a result, a whole lot needs to be taken care of. Trust me, I know of whence I speak.
Yesterday was Dentist Appointment Day. When I called a week ago and explained to receptionist that I feared that I had a broken tooth and at the very least I had a cracked tooth and that my primary symptom was a quarter of the molar in question was loose and I needed an appointment now, the receptionist translated this as I was calling in to complain about a "chipped tooth" and left me to cool my heals for a week. Another significant road block to more timely access to care was my lack of pain. If you want to see your dentist now, tell the receptionist you are in pain, a lot of pain. The receptionist might get you in on Thursday.
My tooth and I were early, the receptionist asked if I was aware my appointment wasn't until 2pm. I said I knew this, I also now knew that I wasn't going to get in early. Your dentist office isn't the same as the girl who cuts your hair, their philosophies about appointment times is quite different and yet they both deal with emergency appointments. A broken tooth, a bad home dye job. Tomato , tamatoh.. Personally, I am a huge proponent of first come first served.
The dentist finally saw me. Imagine his surprise that I was not actually there for a chipped tooth. I avoided the dentist office for years and he thinks I would subject myself to the dentists chair for a chipped tooth? Dentist, please.
First, he pumped my jaw full of Novocaine. Full. I have a head cold now but I don't care because I can't feel anything below my hair line or above my waist. And then he and his minion drilled. I don't care how numb I am the sound of the drill makes me tense up like a spring. Drill, drill, drill. My toothlet fell out. A quarter of a molar is a pretty big bit of tooth. I was surprised it took so much to fall out because in my mouth it felt like a strong breeze would have knocked it out. I could been eating real food all this time. Oh point of order about commercially available mashed potatoes, Sam's Club makes a kick ass version. Kroger's mashed potatoes taste like reconstituted potato flakes.
Any way.
They took x-rays and they found a toy surprise. My tooth is not only cracked it is abscessed.. . A lot. And has been for a while. Just about as long as it has been fractured, and oddly, I'm not in pain, not yet at least but now that I know I should be in pain I'm going to wake up at 2am howling in agony. Should I mention I've been a frequent visitor to my dentist since March? I'm there all the damn time, I've been x-rayed, had a cavity filled, a crown placed and had my teeth cleaned, and they didn't notice the giant fissure? The dentist looked in my mouth and said was It isn't chipped is it? I felt so comforted.
My tooth is toast. It may be fixable though, there are cracked and or broken teeth that present as more screwed then my tooth. I might be a candidate for a root canal. Or I might not, I have an appointment with an endodontist to make a final call on that. He'll either say it can be saved or it needs to be pulled, some teeth are so broken and damaged that there is nothing they can do. So if it's good news I get to undergo a root canal and if it's bad news I get an extraction. Sounds like six of one and a half dozen of the other to me.
I left the office with two prescriptions, one for a high enough dose of penicillin to cure the clap and another for enough vicodin to change my name to Gregiana House.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Circus Extravaganza
SHOWTIME:
Monday through Friday - 1 Show each night 7:00 - 9:00 pm
Saturday and Sunday 3 Big Shows daily:
1pm - 3pm / 4 - 6 pm / 7 - 9 pm
Admission: Adult $12 and Child $5 - One child age 14 and under admitted free with each paid adult ticket. Free ticket giveaways on LaLey Radio and Univision. Click on attached weblink for a $2 discount coupon for adult admission.
Perhaps less your grandfathers circus and more your el abuelo’s. It doesn’t matter. I’m going I don’t even like circusi. They’re too busy too loud and all together too too . There is a guy over there trying to eaten by a tiger and another guy over there on a motorcycle inside a sphere trying to break his neck and that’s not even noticing the guy up there trying to fall to his death. And then there are the clowns running around the perimeter beating the hell out of each other.
Too, too too much . I can never decide who needs my attention the most - the tiger guy, the motorcycle inside a sphere guy or the guy on the highwire. I mean one at a time you could get really emotionally invested in these guys, before, you know, they die horribly but all at once? They just pull focus from each other and dilute the effect , instead of OH MY GAWD!, OH MY GAWD! OH MY GAWD! It’s more like, whatever- And I end up watching the clowns brutalize each other.
But. Circus Extravaganza has one ring and the tent isn’t tall enough to properly kill yourself even if you fell from the very highest point, and I looked at the find print on my hand bill and it doesn’t mention lions or motorcycles.. Performing Monkeys! yes! Dogs! yes! Snakes!yes! Bears!yes! Chimp! a chimp not”chimps”, was there a falling out? Did someone get eaten? Run away and join a FOX show? ... And “Much , Much More!” If they allow flash photography I may be in love.
Performing snakes but no web presence. My cat has a presence on the web. I finally found a notice on the fairgrounds calender of events between a family reunion and a gun and knife show. But that’s all right, it’s a boutique circus. Its’s the whole circus shrunk down to a cabaret act! . I’m pretty sure that even the nose bleed seats are right down front and if I don’t walk out of there with a clown in my pocket I’m going to be disappointed. I mean, imagine all the power and glory and chaos of a circus in your lap. Those spangly people flying around on the trapeze? Squeezed themselves into that costume and applied five pounds of eyeliner for you. Hell, one of them sold you your ticket and his sister made your hot dog. To work like that is what being an entertainer is, for real. You sell the tickets and paint the set and boil the hot dogs and Fly. Eleven shows a week. Eat your heart out Tom Cruise, you can’t boil a hot dog and you will never fly.
SHOWTIME:
Monday through Friday - 1 Show each night 7:00 - 9:00 pm
Saturday and Sunday 3 Big Shows daily:
1pm - 3pm / 4 - 6 pm / 7 - 9 pm
Admission: Adult $12 and Child $5 - One child age 14 and under admitted free with each paid adult ticket. Free ticket giveaways on LaLey Radio and Univision. Click on attached weblink for a $2 discount coupon for adult admission.
Perhaps less your grandfathers circus and more your el abuelo’s. It doesn’t matter. I’m going I don’t even like circusi. They’re too busy too loud and all together too too . There is a guy over there trying to eaten by a tiger and another guy over there on a motorcycle inside a sphere trying to break his neck and that’s not even noticing the guy up there trying to fall to his death. And then there are the clowns running around the perimeter beating the hell out of each other.
Too, too too much . I can never decide who needs my attention the most - the tiger guy, the motorcycle inside a sphere guy or the guy on the highwire. I mean one at a time you could get really emotionally invested in these guys, before, you know, they die horribly but all at once? They just pull focus from each other and dilute the effect , instead of OH MY GAWD!, OH MY GAWD! OH MY GAWD! It’s more like, whatever- And I end up watching the clowns brutalize each other.
But. Circus Extravaganza has one ring and the tent isn’t tall enough to properly kill yourself even if you fell from the very highest point, and I looked at the find print on my hand bill and it doesn’t mention lions or motorcycles.. Performing Monkeys! yes! Dogs! yes! Snakes!yes! Bears!yes! Chimp! a chimp not”chimps”, was there a falling out? Did someone get eaten? Run away and join a FOX show? ... And “Much , Much More!” If they allow flash photography I may be in love.
Performing snakes but no web presence. My cat has a presence on the web. I finally found a notice on the fairgrounds calender of events between a family reunion and a gun and knife show. But that’s all right, it’s a boutique circus. Its’s the whole circus shrunk down to a cabaret act! . I’m pretty sure that even the nose bleed seats are right down front and if I don’t walk out of there with a clown in my pocket I’m going to be disappointed. I mean, imagine all the power and glory and chaos of a circus in your lap. Those spangly people flying around on the trapeze? Squeezed themselves into that costume and applied five pounds of eyeliner for you. Hell, one of them sold you your ticket and his sister made your hot dog. To work like that is what being an entertainer is, for real. You sell the tickets and paint the set and boil the hot dogs and Fly. Eleven shows a week. Eat your heart out Tom Cruise, you can’t boil a hot dog and you will never fly.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Show
Of the many things that happened on Friday, not the least was my discovery that the battery of the kitchen cordless had died. Do ya’ll remember when I got that phone? Yeah, me either. Take for granted that it has been awhile. Years at least.
The last time I had to buy a battery for a phone I took the battery to Circuit City, stood in front of their massive wall o’ batteries and found my replacement - was horrified at the cost and went with the much cheaper alternative, I bought a new phone.
Today the wall o’ batteries at Circuit City has been replaced with a selection of seven different kinds batteries, three unavailable. None of which was mine because I apparently bought my phone during the paleolithic. I wasn’t going to give up. I went to Best Buy then Target. The selections were not as vast as what was offered at Circuit City. All three places told me to go to Radio Shack. I hate Radio Shack and decided I would just go buy a new phone rather then spend anytime or money at Radio Shite.. I found a phone I liked once, I would be able to find one I liked again. How hard could it be to find an ecru phone?
I was able to find a phone then. That was then. Today you can’t just buy a phone. You have to buy four phones or you have to buy an answering machine and three phones. You can buy a single phone but it will be the wrong color. It takes a village to use all the phones that come with the right phone. I am a single person, I live by myself I do not need four phones.
I need my four TVs but that is irrelevant.
But why now? Why did it die now? It’s had years to die. It shouldn’t have lived this long but why now. I drove around a lot trying to find a new battery and then I decided I needed to go home. I had enough disappointment. There is no such thing as a truly cordless phone. With no cord you have no power. Power is good. I took a closer look at my phone. Where was my cord? I checked to see if it was plugged in, yes it was. At one end. How did my phone get unplugged? When did this happen? I thought about this for a day and then I started to notice that The Kitty’s bowl was quite empty quite often. I smelled a dog.
Dogger was eating The Kitty’s food and messing with my phone. My perfectly serviceable, working phone. It turns out my phone works best when it is PLUGGED IN. I put the battery back and waited for it to charge. Today, my phone works just fine. Dogger is lucky she’s so cute.
Oh! Oh! Oh! Garden Update!
I’m so excited! My garden is doing something! I looked at it after work and found tiny fetal nubs! Oh! So Excited!!
Oh, and when I was driving around Sunday? I saw an elephant.
You know the advertising saw “Not your Fathers blah?” I found your Grandfathers' Circus, a small tent in the middle of a dusty lot. Surely, one of the last independent circuses in America. Perhaps the last, best, show on earth. One ring, one elephant, three por-o-lets.
Of the many things that happened on Friday, not the least was my discovery that the battery of the kitchen cordless had died. Do ya’ll remember when I got that phone? Yeah, me either. Take for granted that it has been awhile. Years at least.
The last time I had to buy a battery for a phone I took the battery to Circuit City, stood in front of their massive wall o’ batteries and found my replacement - was horrified at the cost and went with the much cheaper alternative, I bought a new phone.
Today the wall o’ batteries at Circuit City has been replaced with a selection of seven different kinds batteries, three unavailable. None of which was mine because I apparently bought my phone during the paleolithic. I wasn’t going to give up. I went to Best Buy then Target. The selections were not as vast as what was offered at Circuit City. All three places told me to go to Radio Shack. I hate Radio Shack and decided I would just go buy a new phone rather then spend anytime or money at Radio Shite.. I found a phone I liked once, I would be able to find one I liked again. How hard could it be to find an ecru phone?
I was able to find a phone then. That was then. Today you can’t just buy a phone. You have to buy four phones or you have to buy an answering machine and three phones. You can buy a single phone but it will be the wrong color. It takes a village to use all the phones that come with the right phone. I am a single person, I live by myself I do not need four phones.
I need my four TVs but that is irrelevant.
But why now? Why did it die now? It’s had years to die. It shouldn’t have lived this long but why now. I drove around a lot trying to find a new battery and then I decided I needed to go home. I had enough disappointment. There is no such thing as a truly cordless phone. With no cord you have no power. Power is good. I took a closer look at my phone. Where was my cord? I checked to see if it was plugged in, yes it was. At one end. How did my phone get unplugged? When did this happen? I thought about this for a day and then I started to notice that The Kitty’s bowl was quite empty quite often. I smelled a dog.
Dogger was eating The Kitty’s food and messing with my phone. My perfectly serviceable, working phone. It turns out my phone works best when it is PLUGGED IN. I put the battery back and waited for it to charge. Today, my phone works just fine. Dogger is lucky she’s so cute.
Oh! Oh! Oh! Garden Update!
I’m so excited! My garden is doing something! I looked at it after work and found tiny fetal nubs! Oh! So Excited!!
Oh, and when I was driving around Sunday? I saw an elephant.
You know the advertising saw “Not your Fathers blah?” I found your Grandfathers' Circus, a small tent in the middle of a dusty lot. Surely, one of the last independent circuses in America. Perhaps the last, best, show on earth. One ring, one elephant, three por-o-lets.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Weekend
Friday night I was still thinking about the murder - Try not to think about a murder that took place within sight of your house, and I decided that Dogger and I were going to go see where the story ended and then we were going to go see where it started.
The cops did a very good job cleaning up after themselves. The crime tape was all picked up and there were no dis-guarded donut boxes and for a bonus, no bloody gauze left behind either. The Raleigh Police are very tidy. They take only crime scene photos and leave only a sense of foreboding behind. Good for them.
I knew where the story ended, I was curious about where it started. I thought that since it was alarmingly close by, that Dogger and I could take our evening walk and just swing by...Yeah about that "swinging". There was no going by at all. It was raining too hard. I don't care how strong my desire to see where the murderers lived, I had a greater desired to not spend even more time in soaking wet jeans. We went home. Later, after the rain stopped and while it was still light I had to run to the store anyway, I set out to finish my mission.
I was pleased to discover that the 900 block of East Martin is not the Martin Street that abuts my street. Yay. However, the trip to the actual 900 block was very fast and very obvious. My neighborhood is nice, well, it's nice enough. It's a nice place to live. There is always someone watching. I find this comforting, its kind of nice to know people are looking out for you. I would like to point out that there is a huge difference between being looked out for and being watched. One is nice the other makes the lizard part of your brain cue the hair on your neck to stand up. I was three blocks from my house and my hair was on end. This place didn't look anything like what I was used to. This was a third world county - All it was missing was flattened palm frond huts and wandering chickens. And I was being watched . If I had been on foot I would have hotfooted it out, I know when I am not wanted, but I wasn't on foot, I was locked into a giant tin can so I drove around a little and found a lovely, well tended community garden and a house that looked like a giant cartoon cake.
I never did find 910 East Lincoln. That part of the street was so unwelcoming that I didn't feel comfortable even slowing down to check addresses. If slowing down wasn't an option, stopping to take a picture would be laughable. The rest of Martin Street is nice, the end closest to downtown is nice as is my end. It's just the three crummy blocks in the middle that would benefit from a good, therapeutic carpet bombing.
And then it was Saturday. The District Convention. I don't belong to an organized party, I am a Democrat. When we came in we were asked if we supported Clinton or Obama, our answer decided which packet we were given. Delegates who were Clinton supporters got yellow delegate slips while Delegates supporting Obama got green slips.
The whole point for the District convention was to elect delegates to the national convention. This took entirely too long and the process was inefficient and time consuming. I'm pretty sure it mimicked the process that will happen at the national convention to pick a candidate, but it's slow, annoying and inefficient. It should not take three ballots to pick delegates and if it must be done this way, it would be nice if the ballots didn't have to be hand counted. GAWD. The good news was all this time was spent electing Obama delegates. The Clinton delegates didn't show up. There were five or six men who were candidates for this and not a single one showed for the convention. We laughed at them at 3pm when the Clinton supporters left in a huff, but by 5pm we were really jealous. They they are backing a losing horse but that horse got them home earlier.
Friday night I was still thinking about the murder - Try not to think about a murder that took place within sight of your house, and I decided that Dogger and I were going to go see where the story ended and then we were going to go see where it started.
The cops did a very good job cleaning up after themselves. The crime tape was all picked up and there were no dis-guarded donut boxes and for a bonus, no bloody gauze left behind either. The Raleigh Police are very tidy. They take only crime scene photos and leave only a sense of foreboding behind. Good for them.
I knew where the story ended, I was curious about where it started. I thought that since it was alarmingly close by, that Dogger and I could take our evening walk and just swing by...Yeah about that "swinging". There was no going by at all. It was raining too hard. I don't care how strong my desire to see where the murderers lived, I had a greater desired to not spend even more time in soaking wet jeans. We went home. Later, after the rain stopped and while it was still light I had to run to the store anyway, I set out to finish my mission.
I was pleased to discover that the 900 block of East Martin is not the Martin Street that abuts my street. Yay. However, the trip to the actual 900 block was very fast and very obvious. My neighborhood is nice, well, it's nice enough. It's a nice place to live. There is always someone watching. I find this comforting, its kind of nice to know people are looking out for you. I would like to point out that there is a huge difference between being looked out for and being watched. One is nice the other makes the lizard part of your brain cue the hair on your neck to stand up. I was three blocks from my house and my hair was on end. This place didn't look anything like what I was used to. This was a third world county - All it was missing was flattened palm frond huts and wandering chickens. And I was being watched . If I had been on foot I would have hotfooted it out, I know when I am not wanted, but I wasn't on foot, I was locked into a giant tin can so I drove around a little and found a lovely, well tended community garden and a house that looked like a giant cartoon cake.
I never did find 910 East Lincoln. That part of the street was so unwelcoming that I didn't feel comfortable even slowing down to check addresses. If slowing down wasn't an option, stopping to take a picture would be laughable. The rest of Martin Street is nice, the end closest to downtown is nice as is my end. It's just the three crummy blocks in the middle that would benefit from a good, therapeutic carpet bombing.
And then it was Saturday. The District Convention. I don't belong to an organized party, I am a Democrat. When we came in we were asked if we supported Clinton or Obama, our answer decided which packet we were given. Delegates who were Clinton supporters got yellow delegate slips while Delegates supporting Obama got green slips.
The whole point for the District convention was to elect delegates to the national convention. This took entirely too long and the process was inefficient and time consuming. I'm pretty sure it mimicked the process that will happen at the national convention to pick a candidate, but it's slow, annoying and inefficient. It should not take three ballots to pick delegates and if it must be done this way, it would be nice if the ballots didn't have to be hand counted. GAWD. The good news was all this time was spent electing Obama delegates. The Clinton delegates didn't show up. There were five or six men who were candidates for this and not a single one showed for the convention. We laughed at them at 3pm when the Clinton supporters left in a huff, but by 5pm we were really jealous. They they are backing a losing horse but that horse got them home earlier.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Friday, May 16, 2008
Four charged in death of Raleigh man
Four people have been charged with first-degree murder following the death of a man just east of downtown Thursday night.
Police responded to a call to the scene, where they found Ulice Graham had been assaulted. Graham was taken to WakeMed Raleigh Campus, where he was pronounced dead.
Police charged Anthony Wayne Watson, 26, Rathiel Montrail Hunter, 27, Christine Nicole January, 27, and Jessica Ann Dixon, 22. All four live at 910 East Martin Street not far from the scene, according to court records.
Watson, Hunter and January were being held at the Wake County jail this morning without benefit of bail.
Four people have been charged with first-degree murder following the death of a man just east of downtown Thursday night.
Police responded to a call to the scene, where they found Ulice Graham had been assaulted. Graham was taken to WakeMed Raleigh Campus, where he was pronounced dead.
Police charged Anthony Wayne Watson, 26, Rathiel Montrail Hunter, 27, Christine Nicole January, 27, and Jessica Ann Dixon, 22. All four live at 910 East Martin Street not far from the scene, according to court records.
Watson, Hunter and January were being held at the Wake County jail this morning without benefit of bail.
Man dies after assault in Raleigh
Posted: Today at 5:49 a.m.
Updated: 5 minutes ago
Raleigh, N.C. — Raleigh police were investigating an assault case Thursday that left a man dead. At about 11 p.m., police responded to the scene, where they found a man who had been assaulted.
Emergency officials took the man, whose name was not released, to WakeMed, where he was pronounced dead. Police did not disclose how he had been hurt. Police withheld the man’s identity until his family members could be notified. The Major Crimes Unit was investigating.
Anyone with information about the case is asked to call police at 919-890-3555 or Crime Stoppers at 919-226-CRIME
Posted: Today at 5:49 a.m.
Updated: 5 minutes ago
Raleigh, N.C. — Raleigh police were investigating an assault case Thursday that left a man dead. At about 11 p.m., police responded to the scene, where they found a man who had been assaulted.
Emergency officials took the man, whose name was not released, to WakeMed, where he was pronounced dead. Police did not disclose how he had been hurt. Police withheld the man’s identity until his family members could be notified. The Major Crimes Unit was investigating.
Anyone with information about the case is asked to call police at 919-890-3555 or Crime Stoppers at 919-226-CRIME
My Dentist, Myself
Last night I went to bed late for me, 11:20 or so. Almost as soon as I was down for the night Dogger began to bark. A lot. I don't want her to not do this but there are limits. She kept barking. I told her to stop it. A couple of times. Then She started to growl and she sounded like a machine. She barked again at 12:30 and I went down to see what it was about. I looked out the window and there were cop lights down the way.
Not unusual. I had heard sirens. I live very close to a fire station and close to a trauma center. It can also be a punishable crime to drive while black here. I went back to bed, Dogger kept barking. I thought someone was being arrested.
At 6am I took Dogger out. No more cop lights, but ...At the end of my street there was a police bus and crime tape and detectives and multiple cop cars. And crime scene trucks. I was shocked. I saw a man walking down the street. A detective it turned out. I asked what happened and he told me a homicide had taken place where my street dead ends, but it was well in hand and I should not worry. Dogger barked all night because someone was murdered on my street.
.......................................................
I went over to Alphagal and Broskys for some pizza and family bonding. Tiny E is going to start college next fall. I mean for real, she is totally the smartest toddler in the toddler room. She makes the other 19 month-olds look like one year olds. I mean once she’s toilet trained, her parents are negotiating with a kindergarten in Chapel Hill - That’s right she’s also a basketball phenom.
Anyway. I went and ate some pizza. I chewed my food. I was a happy woman.
Well. It turns out that chewing is vastly over rated. Chewing is for pussy’s. Real women choose liquid diets. Teeth are for people who have to chew their own foods. You know what’s hott? The Baby Bird Lifestyle Diet. Demi has been on it for weeks. She and I no longer eat any foods that have more body to them than a thick soup.
See what happened was that I have this molar and once upon a time I had a massive cavity and when it was filled it separated the tooth into tour equal-ish parts. Years passed. The tooth quadrants started to have skirmishes and eventfully, civil war broke out and a break-away republic broke free. Well, is trying to break free. So far it has achieved break-away-republic status. I think will achieve full Democracy sometime prior to my Wednesday appointment. That’s right Wednesday I called my dentist on Thursday. There is a Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday and Tuesday in between.
I don’t really think the receptionist really grasped what I was saying when I told her my tooth had broken up like a college band - In pieces and headed in four different directions! Thus far it has been amicable, no tears as yet but I’m worried that once the breakaway republic breaks free, it’s going to hurt. I fear that is a nerve there that is going to get it’s panties in a wad once it’s little friend is gone. And I know that nerve is going to take it’s separation anxiety out on.
Does anyone know any ways to keep my teeth from touching over night? I can take care of it while I’m awake but my self control needs me to be conscience. My unconsence isn’t as invested in living a pain-free life as I am.
Okay, on to a different topic : Other People’s Pain.
I was standing at the sink, mixing poison when I heard breaks being hit and then I felt an impact, then I heard it. BANG. And then nothing. I stood there and waited. Nothing. I looked out the window to see if traffic was stopped on the big street. I saw cars moving. I didn’t call 911 because I didn’t know where the collision took place. I don’t think 911 likes it when you call them and say you heard an impact but you aren’t sure where the accident was. I think intersection and street names are kind of important to them. They’re into specifics not appoximations.
I went out and poisoned the little green wormy things. Die Worms Die! I finally heard the sirens. I finished up the worm war and went to go see where the crash was. It turned out to be closer than I had thought it was. You know that term “Crush Space”? The one car didn’t have any left. It must have hit the other car head on. Going fast. The front end of the car began and ended at the wind shield - Which was un damaged. So the driver wasn’t propelled through it on impact. Good for the driver. And the people who live on that corner. I mean, ew. You know?
Oh. And since I am going to hell with that. I don’t know if you have read the paper lately, but there was this massive earthquake in China. Huge. Very, very sad. All the news is about China - No big change there, all the news has been about China for weeks - What a evol, Tibet abusing, political prisoner jailing, shitty quality control having, ecology destroying, Three Gorge Dam building, pollution spewing Whore Nation they were. It was all China Hate all the time. And then, then they had an Earthquake. Suddenly it’s still All China All the Time but the tone has changed, suddenly its Poor China! Sympathy for the China! Poor, Sad, Nature Oppressed China. That catastrophe was the best PR imaginable. The Olympic message is going to be all about China rising from the rubble and the Heroism of the Chinese people. So positive, so happy, so not the China of the last news cycle. Do you actually think anyone of those Pols who said they weren’t going to go are going to sit it out now? No way in hell.
Last night I went to bed late for me, 11:20 or so. Almost as soon as I was down for the night Dogger began to bark. A lot. I don't want her to not do this but there are limits. She kept barking. I told her to stop it. A couple of times. Then She started to growl and she sounded like a machine. She barked again at 12:30 and I went down to see what it was about. I looked out the window and there were cop lights down the way.
Not unusual. I had heard sirens. I live very close to a fire station and close to a trauma center. It can also be a punishable crime to drive while black here. I went back to bed, Dogger kept barking. I thought someone was being arrested.
At 6am I took Dogger out. No more cop lights, but ...At the end of my street there was a police bus and crime tape and detectives and multiple cop cars. And crime scene trucks. I was shocked. I saw a man walking down the street. A detective it turned out. I asked what happened and he told me a homicide had taken place where my street dead ends, but it was well in hand and I should not worry. Dogger barked all night because someone was murdered on my street.
.......................................................
I went over to Alphagal and Broskys for some pizza and family bonding. Tiny E is going to start college next fall. I mean for real, she is totally the smartest toddler in the toddler room. She makes the other 19 month-olds look like one year olds. I mean once she’s toilet trained, her parents are negotiating with a kindergarten in Chapel Hill - That’s right she’s also a basketball phenom.
Anyway. I went and ate some pizza. I chewed my food. I was a happy woman.
Well. It turns out that chewing is vastly over rated. Chewing is for pussy’s. Real women choose liquid diets. Teeth are for people who have to chew their own foods. You know what’s hott? The Baby Bird Lifestyle Diet. Demi has been on it for weeks. She and I no longer eat any foods that have more body to them than a thick soup.
See what happened was that I have this molar and once upon a time I had a massive cavity and when it was filled it separated the tooth into tour equal-ish parts. Years passed. The tooth quadrants started to have skirmishes and eventfully, civil war broke out and a break-away republic broke free. Well, is trying to break free. So far it has achieved break-away-republic status. I think will achieve full Democracy sometime prior to my Wednesday appointment. That’s right Wednesday I called my dentist on Thursday. There is a Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday and Tuesday in between.
I don’t really think the receptionist really grasped what I was saying when I told her my tooth had broken up like a college band - In pieces and headed in four different directions! Thus far it has been amicable, no tears as yet but I’m worried that once the breakaway republic breaks free, it’s going to hurt. I fear that is a nerve there that is going to get it’s panties in a wad once it’s little friend is gone. And I know that nerve is going to take it’s separation anxiety out on.
Does anyone know any ways to keep my teeth from touching over night? I can take care of it while I’m awake but my self control needs me to be conscience. My unconsence isn’t as invested in living a pain-free life as I am.
Okay, on to a different topic : Other People’s Pain.
I was standing at the sink, mixing poison when I heard breaks being hit and then I felt an impact, then I heard it. BANG. And then nothing. I stood there and waited. Nothing. I looked out the window to see if traffic was stopped on the big street. I saw cars moving. I didn’t call 911 because I didn’t know where the collision took place. I don’t think 911 likes it when you call them and say you heard an impact but you aren’t sure where the accident was. I think intersection and street names are kind of important to them. They’re into specifics not appoximations.
I went out and poisoned the little green wormy things. Die Worms Die! I finally heard the sirens. I finished up the worm war and went to go see where the crash was. It turned out to be closer than I had thought it was. You know that term “Crush Space”? The one car didn’t have any left. It must have hit the other car head on. Going fast. The front end of the car began and ended at the wind shield - Which was un damaged. So the driver wasn’t propelled through it on impact. Good for the driver. And the people who live on that corner. I mean, ew. You know?
Oh. And since I am going to hell with that. I don’t know if you have read the paper lately, but there was this massive earthquake in China. Huge. Very, very sad. All the news is about China - No big change there, all the news has been about China for weeks - What a evol, Tibet abusing, political prisoner jailing, shitty quality control having, ecology destroying, Three Gorge Dam building, pollution spewing Whore Nation they were. It was all China Hate all the time. And then, then they had an Earthquake. Suddenly it’s still All China All the Time but the tone has changed, suddenly its Poor China! Sympathy for the China! Poor, Sad, Nature Oppressed China. That catastrophe was the best PR imaginable. The Olympic message is going to be all about China rising from the rubble and the Heroism of the Chinese people. So positive, so happy, so not the China of the last news cycle. Do you actually think anyone of those Pols who said they weren’t going to go are going to sit it out now? No way in hell.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Office Space
I regret to inform you that Crazy Asshole will no longer be working with our Unit. I will be posting this position this week.
She “regrets”? Who is she kidding? She took the call and then (briefly) unclenched and did a wild dance of joy, most likely while still sitting at her desk. But lets be honest, regrets she had very few. The giant thorn under her state-issued saddle is gone and won’t be back in the building without a security detail.
I had regrets. I regret that I wasn’t as nice to him as I should have been - But at the same time he was never as nice to me as he should have been either so I guess we are about equally at fault. I tried, I really did. Because he was a giant, crazy asshole I kept our interaction to a minimum. I gave him phone messages and he would never give them back. It was his passive aggressive side. I was very passive about his aggression until my yearly review told me that me that I needed to be more aggressive about getting the slips back. So I started to ask him for them back. But I didn’t really put my heart into it. I knew he wasn’t going to give them back and he didn’t give them back.
And then I had another annual review and my pink slips were again a topic of conversation. The next time I told him I wanted my slips back I got a couple. They were months old and he was snippy when he gave them to me, but he gave them to me and I was mollified. And months passed and I would get a couple of times a week a slip, usually weeks old. So my boss instituted this little routine for me. I was to email her every Friday by nine in the morning to let her given me back what and the names and phone numbers in question. I was religious for a while but I hated doing this. I hate tattling.
This was getting old. I started to “forget” to do it. My boss does not forget things, so now Crazy Assholes problem was my problem and I seemed to be the only one getting in trouble for it. I was getting really tired of discussing pink slips with my boss, and always about the missing pink slips that always belonged to Crazy Asshole. Time passed. The pink slips are slowed to a crawl. The last time I demanded them back I got a few. I decided this “asking” business was for pussies. I wasn’t going to “ask” him for anything anymore. I was going to tell this asshole to give them back or I was going to take them back.
The Conversation as I remember it:
Me - Asshole.
Crazy Asshole - Crazy mumble, whine, crazy crazy.
Me - Give Me All The Pink Slips You Own. Those and those and that one back there. Don’t make me get them myself.
CA - Accusatory Mumbling. Not done with them.
Me - !@#$ you. I want them Now. I’m taking them NOW.
CA - Not. Done.
Me - I’m done with you. I want them NOW.
CA- Crazy, passive aggressive, crazy.
Me - Give Them Back To Me Now Or I Will Kill You And Hide Your Body On Campus. Don’t !@#$ with me on this, I walk my dog all over here. I can and will hide your body where no one will ever find it.
CA - Laughter.
Me - Not Laughing. Give Them To Me Or I Will Kill You. I’m not kidding. I don’t care. You’ve had them too long. I want the slips right now. All the slips. All. Of. Them. Now. Asshole. I Will Kill You. Don’t consider this a threat.
It worked. He gave me bunches, veritable bouquets of months and weeks old pink slips. I rewarded him by not killing him. And after that, I told him to do things and he did things. But never before he was told to do them. He did not respond to “asking”, he responded to force.
We did have a one brief non-hostile, non-threatening back and forth between our neighboring offices about putting things and people into wood chippers. All the things you can put into chippers. It made my friend across the hall very uncomfortable. I think it was the longest non-work related, non-hostile conversation Crazy Asshole and I ever had. Crazy Asshole brought the hostility out of me.
Anyway. I decided to try to be nice to him and he rewarded me by being a Crazy Asshole. It was more than not giving me pink slips, it was a lot of office crap. If he was a passive aggressive dick to me he was even worse to our boss, did I mention the pornographic joke he sent around with her in a featured role as a Nazi? I hope he is getting the care he needs. The long term, inpatient care he needs. Bless his heart. Anyway, he's gone and I feel like a bitch now because I wasn't nicer to him.
I regret to inform you that Crazy Asshole will no longer be working with our Unit. I will be posting this position this week.
She “regrets”? Who is she kidding? She took the call and then (briefly) unclenched and did a wild dance of joy, most likely while still sitting at her desk. But lets be honest, regrets she had very few. The giant thorn under her state-issued saddle is gone and won’t be back in the building without a security detail.
I had regrets. I regret that I wasn’t as nice to him as I should have been - But at the same time he was never as nice to me as he should have been either so I guess we are about equally at fault. I tried, I really did. Because he was a giant, crazy asshole I kept our interaction to a minimum. I gave him phone messages and he would never give them back. It was his passive aggressive side. I was very passive about his aggression until my yearly review told me that me that I needed to be more aggressive about getting the slips back. So I started to ask him for them back. But I didn’t really put my heart into it. I knew he wasn’t going to give them back and he didn’t give them back.
And then I had another annual review and my pink slips were again a topic of conversation. The next time I told him I wanted my slips back I got a couple. They were months old and he was snippy when he gave them to me, but he gave them to me and I was mollified. And months passed and I would get a couple of times a week a slip, usually weeks old. So my boss instituted this little routine for me. I was to email her every Friday by nine in the morning to let her given me back what and the names and phone numbers in question. I was religious for a while but I hated doing this. I hate tattling.
This was getting old. I started to “forget” to do it. My boss does not forget things, so now Crazy Assholes problem was my problem and I seemed to be the only one getting in trouble for it. I was getting really tired of discussing pink slips with my boss, and always about the missing pink slips that always belonged to Crazy Asshole. Time passed. The pink slips are slowed to a crawl. The last time I demanded them back I got a few. I decided this “asking” business was for pussies. I wasn’t going to “ask” him for anything anymore. I was going to tell this asshole to give them back or I was going to take them back.
The Conversation as I remember it:
Me - Asshole.
Crazy Asshole - Crazy mumble, whine, crazy crazy.
Me - Give Me All The Pink Slips You Own. Those and those and that one back there. Don’t make me get them myself.
CA - Accusatory Mumbling. Not done with them.
Me - !@#$ you. I want them Now. I’m taking them NOW.
CA - Not. Done.
Me - I’m done with you. I want them NOW.
CA- Crazy, passive aggressive, crazy.
Me - Give Them Back To Me Now Or I Will Kill You And Hide Your Body On Campus. Don’t !@#$ with me on this, I walk my dog all over here. I can and will hide your body where no one will ever find it.
CA - Laughter.
Me - Not Laughing. Give Them To Me Or I Will Kill You. I’m not kidding. I don’t care. You’ve had them too long. I want the slips right now. All the slips. All. Of. Them. Now. Asshole. I Will Kill You. Don’t consider this a threat.
It worked. He gave me bunches, veritable bouquets of months and weeks old pink slips. I rewarded him by not killing him. And after that, I told him to do things and he did things. But never before he was told to do them. He did not respond to “asking”, he responded to force.
We did have a one brief non-hostile, non-threatening back and forth between our neighboring offices about putting things and people into wood chippers. All the things you can put into chippers. It made my friend across the hall very uncomfortable. I think it was the longest non-work related, non-hostile conversation Crazy Asshole and I ever had. Crazy Asshole brought the hostility out of me.
Anyway. I decided to try to be nice to him and he rewarded me by being a Crazy Asshole. It was more than not giving me pink slips, it was a lot of office crap. If he was a passive aggressive dick to me he was even worse to our boss, did I mention the pornographic joke he sent around with her in a featured role as a Nazi? I hope he is getting the care he needs. The long term, inpatient care he needs. Bless his heart. Anyway, he's gone and I feel like a bitch now because I wasn't nicer to him.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
The Spin Zone
Today I officially own my clothes washer. They can’t come and foreclose on it . I got three things in the mail, one was my bank statement, one was my last bill for the clothes washer and the other was a notice from Shrub letting me know he sent me some cash - Which I all ready knew because I read my bank statement first. Maybe it should have come with a spoiler warning.
Now that the clothes washer is officially mine and I have some money burning a figurative hole in my pocket, I am now in the market for a Dishwasher. So I went to the market to look at dishwashers. I went to Home Depot because I am still sore with Lowes over the whole clothes washer installation nightmare. I did a lot of shopping around for the clothes washer and it was a waste of time and gas and now that gas is even more expensive, I’m not going to drive around wasting it and my time.
I went to one place and I found my dishwasher, I’m done. I think. I read an online review where the writer said something about calling his local Maytag store and how he got a really good deal from them. As it happens, there is a Maytag store right down the street from me. It’s verysmall though, it may actually be sarcophagus for some long dead-from-boredom Maytag Repairman.
But my gut says to just buy the machine from Home Depot and be done with it. I’m tired. I won’t get it right away but I don’t need it right away anyway, the old one still works - In a very energy inefficient, water wasting way and while I disapprove of this, I can’t say it doesn’t work or that it will kill me to wait. I just want a machine that is a better citizen. I hope the guy I spoke with - And again despite wandering around the appliance section with my checkbook in my hand, I still had to go up to the front to ask for help giving them money - Which is why I bought the clothes washer from Lowes in the first place. If Home Depot had better Costumer Service I could have avoided that whole nightmare. Now, I am mad at them both Lowes and Home Depot!
And then when they did finally send someone to help me, he knew nothing about the machines. He “helpfully” read me the tag. I knew what was on the tags before I asked for help, it was why I asked for help. If the tag had everything I needed to know, I wouldn’t have had to go to the front of the store and stand in line at Customer (HA!) Service to request customer service in the first place. I just would have grabbed the floor model and a trolley and been on my way.
I asked the guy to print out the specs for the two models I thought I wanted, one was the Amana 24 In. Energy Star® Built-In Tall Tub Dishwasher AKA “the right one”, and one was not the right one, it was the cheaper one but it was not as efficient. Again, the gut spoke and I listened. My gut should not have sold me the machine. Home Depot should have sold me the machine. Anyway, the guy couldn’t figure out how to print the specs. I hope to Gawd he isn’t an installer. But I bet he is.
I took down the serials and went to look them up on my own. And on the way out, I bought some green worm poison. And Yes, I do hate it that I am spending my Stimulus check instead of hiding it under my mattress. I feel so brain washed and dirty Maybe I’ll take a spin in my new dishwasher.
Today I officially own my clothes washer. They can’t come and foreclose on it . I got three things in the mail, one was my bank statement, one was my last bill for the clothes washer and the other was a notice from Shrub letting me know he sent me some cash - Which I all ready knew because I read my bank statement first. Maybe it should have come with a spoiler warning.
Now that the clothes washer is officially mine and I have some money burning a figurative hole in my pocket, I am now in the market for a Dishwasher. So I went to the market to look at dishwashers. I went to Home Depot because I am still sore with Lowes over the whole clothes washer installation nightmare. I did a lot of shopping around for the clothes washer and it was a waste of time and gas and now that gas is even more expensive, I’m not going to drive around wasting it and my time.
I went to one place and I found my dishwasher, I’m done. I think. I read an online review where the writer said something about calling his local Maytag store and how he got a really good deal from them. As it happens, there is a Maytag store right down the street from me. It’s verysmall though, it may actually be sarcophagus for some long dead-from-boredom Maytag Repairman.
But my gut says to just buy the machine from Home Depot and be done with it. I’m tired. I won’t get it right away but I don’t need it right away anyway, the old one still works - In a very energy inefficient, water wasting way and while I disapprove of this, I can’t say it doesn’t work or that it will kill me to wait. I just want a machine that is a better citizen. I hope the guy I spoke with - And again despite wandering around the appliance section with my checkbook in my hand, I still had to go up to the front to ask for help giving them money - Which is why I bought the clothes washer from Lowes in the first place. If Home Depot had better Costumer Service I could have avoided that whole nightmare. Now, I am mad at them both Lowes and Home Depot!
And then when they did finally send someone to help me, he knew nothing about the machines. He “helpfully” read me the tag. I knew what was on the tags before I asked for help, it was why I asked for help. If the tag had everything I needed to know, I wouldn’t have had to go to the front of the store and stand in line at Customer (HA!) Service to request customer service in the first place. I just would have grabbed the floor model and a trolley and been on my way.
I asked the guy to print out the specs for the two models I thought I wanted, one was the Amana 24 In. Energy Star® Built-In Tall Tub Dishwasher AKA “the right one”, and one was not the right one, it was the cheaper one but it was not as efficient. Again, the gut spoke and I listened. My gut should not have sold me the machine. Home Depot should have sold me the machine. Anyway, the guy couldn’t figure out how to print the specs. I hope to Gawd he isn’t an installer. But I bet he is.
I took down the serials and went to look them up on my own. And on the way out, I bought some green worm poison. And Yes, I do hate it that I am spending my Stimulus check instead of hiding it under my mattress. I feel so brain washed and dirty Maybe I’ll take a spin in my new dishwasher.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Did I miss a memo?
Starting Monday, it costs 42 cents to mail a first-class letter. Prices are expected to increase again next May.
Stamp Prices Increase
Starting Monday, it costs 42 cents to mail a first-class letter. Prices are expected to increase again next May.
Stamp Prices Increase
Monday
I got a lot done this weekend. I mowed the lawn, went to the farmers market, did the laundry, cleaned the house , went shopping with Alphagal, kidnapped a honeysuckle plant, washed the dog, bought a bike and savaged the drug dealers tree. In my down time I watched a really boring documentary on the polio epidemic and the search for a vaccine. I was very disappointed, I thought it would be better.
I think it was a pretty full weekend.
I got a lot of this done Saturday morning because The Kitty spent Friday night running back and forth to his dust box and the carpet. He did not suffer silently. His GI, upper and lower were having a bad night. I tried to tell him that his problem was well controlled and this was not supposed to be happening and he needed to just stop all this right now. I told him this at 2am and 3am and again at 5:30am.
So, I was up pretty early and had plenty of time to both clean up shit and get shite done. Thank you Kitty. Fortunately, after his morning pred and a little Imodium, the symptoms have resolved. He also made up for all the kibble he expelled by emptying his bowl every time I put anything in it. And? He purred. Boyfriend Kitty has not purred in a while. Perhaps, in retrospect that might have been a symptom.
I learned what was eating my collard greens and I assume, also either in the planning stages of eating my other plants or all ready eating them. Little green wormy things. Don’t worry, when I killed them I did so in a very green way. I ground the little bastards into the dirt with a stick. It does tell me that my insecticide/pesticide/mitacide may not be the mass murder that it promises to be. I need to buy a littlegreenwormythingicide. I also found a slug on one of my flowers in the front. A slugacide and a littlegreenwormythingicide.. For everything that would eat a plant there is a acide for the job. I need to make a list. Everything wants to kill my plants and so I will need something to kill every one of them.
Speaking of green things I crushed, The drug dealers tree (and until someone else buys that rotting hulk and either rehabs it or tears it down, it remains the drug dealers tree) got a fractured limb, and since no one is in residence to deal with the tree, I dealt with it
This caused it to be unable to support the weight of the limb and its leaves and its messy, sloppy, nasty little berries in the style I have become accustomed to. The berries polluting my driveway and yard is enough of an interference, I don’t think I also need to have to contend with the limb molesting my car every time I go up or down my driveway.
Enough was enough. I "fixed" it.
The manual clippers that are so good for keeping your shrubbery in check may not be the best tool for tree trimming. But they will do and since what they “do” is not tree trimming, a temper tantrum will give you the necessary force that the clippers themselves may not be posses. An arborist may disagree with my methods but ya know, no one called an arborist. I also have my eye on a tree in the drug dealers back yard that I really, really, really want to take down too. But I think I’ll need more than my rage for that job. Maybe if I attach a sign to it that says Kill Me Now. Love, The Neighbor that any potential owners will take a hint?
Friday night I bought a bike and a bike lock and a bike basket and a bike pump.
The bike was $57,Two wheels, a seat, six speeds and working breaks. The helmet was $34, its like spending $300 for a bike and springing for the $160 helmet. Its my plan of action for the coming gas price Worst Case Scenario, and, startlingly, I am not alone in this plan. The rest of the plan is to start researching the bus routes to and from work now and finding out which of those buses come with bike racks. The buses won’t run on campus because the streets aren’t city streets, which is a major bummer and a stumbling block to my using mas transit - Which as a state employee, I ride for free. My plan would be to take the bus to the edge of campus, unrack the bike and then ride the bike to my building. For lunch I can either eat at the Dix Grill or head to the Subway. I’m hoping that now that I have a plan in place that I won’t have to put it into practice.
I got a lot done this weekend. I mowed the lawn, went to the farmers market, did the laundry, cleaned the house , went shopping with Alphagal, kidnapped a honeysuckle plant, washed the dog, bought a bike and savaged the drug dealers tree. In my down time I watched a really boring documentary on the polio epidemic and the search for a vaccine. I was very disappointed, I thought it would be better.
I think it was a pretty full weekend.
I got a lot of this done Saturday morning because The Kitty spent Friday night running back and forth to his dust box and the carpet. He did not suffer silently. His GI, upper and lower were having a bad night. I tried to tell him that his problem was well controlled and this was not supposed to be happening and he needed to just stop all this right now. I told him this at 2am and 3am and again at 5:30am.
So, I was up pretty early and had plenty of time to both clean up shit and get shite done. Thank you Kitty. Fortunately, after his morning pred and a little Imodium, the symptoms have resolved. He also made up for all the kibble he expelled by emptying his bowl every time I put anything in it. And? He purred. Boyfriend Kitty has not purred in a while. Perhaps, in retrospect that might have been a symptom.
I learned what was eating my collard greens and I assume, also either in the planning stages of eating my other plants or all ready eating them. Little green wormy things. Don’t worry, when I killed them I did so in a very green way. I ground the little bastards into the dirt with a stick. It does tell me that my insecticide/pesticide/mitacide may not be the mass murder that it promises to be. I need to buy a littlegreenwormythingicide. I also found a slug on one of my flowers in the front. A slugacide and a littlegreenwormythingicide.. For everything that would eat a plant there is a acide for the job. I need to make a list. Everything wants to kill my plants and so I will need something to kill every one of them.
Speaking of green things I crushed, The drug dealers tree (and until someone else buys that rotting hulk and either rehabs it or tears it down, it remains the drug dealers tree) got a fractured limb, and since no one is in residence to deal with the tree, I dealt with it
This caused it to be unable to support the weight of the limb and its leaves and its messy, sloppy, nasty little berries in the style I have become accustomed to. The berries polluting my driveway and yard is enough of an interference, I don’t think I also need to have to contend with the limb molesting my car every time I go up or down my driveway.
Enough was enough. I "fixed" it.
The manual clippers that are so good for keeping your shrubbery in check may not be the best tool for tree trimming. But they will do and since what they “do” is not tree trimming, a temper tantrum will give you the necessary force that the clippers themselves may not be posses. An arborist may disagree with my methods but ya know, no one called an arborist. I also have my eye on a tree in the drug dealers back yard that I really, really, really want to take down too. But I think I’ll need more than my rage for that job. Maybe if I attach a sign to it that says Kill Me Now. Love, The Neighbor that any potential owners will take a hint?
Friday night I bought a bike and a bike lock and a bike basket and a bike pump.
The bike was $57,Two wheels, a seat, six speeds and working breaks. The helmet was $34, its like spending $300 for a bike and springing for the $160 helmet. Its my plan of action for the coming gas price Worst Case Scenario, and, startlingly, I am not alone in this plan. The rest of the plan is to start researching the bus routes to and from work now and finding out which of those buses come with bike racks. The buses won’t run on campus because the streets aren’t city streets, which is a major bummer and a stumbling block to my using mas transit - Which as a state employee, I ride for free. My plan would be to take the bus to the edge of campus, unrack the bike and then ride the bike to my building. For lunch I can either eat at the Dix Grill or head to the Subway. I’m hoping that now that I have a plan in place that I won’t have to put it into practice.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Friday, May 9, 2008
Stick with me
Right now I am obsessing over the band aid on my foot. It is under a sock and inside a shoe and is out of my reach. I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s there, I know its there and I can now think of nothing else. I am trying very hard to not remove my shoe, rip off the stocking and peruse this further.
But.
But I can’t do this in my office. I mean, I could but I don’t know what I would say to a passing co-worker as to why at my desk I have my pant leg hiked up and my stocking off and my foot bared. I don’t think my explanation would make them happy. Oh, I was just totally pre-occupied by the band aid on my foot and I so I decided I really needed to check and see how it was doing. The adhesive was gone I could tell, it just seemed loose and so I put another one, because I like to have back ups! And now I’m better! All done! Back to work!
Band aids used to be made better. They stayed where you put them, now they are designed to be kind free range. You put the band aid on your leg and my lunch it’s at your ankle. I blame this laxness on whiners who complained about how much it “hurts” to take off a band aid. Remember Should I go slow or just rip it off? This was about BAND-AIDS. Back when they were better trained and we were all more butch. I think they should make children’s band aids that are designed to come off with a stern look and adult band aids that you need a whip and chair to get off. I want the band aid to stay on until I want it to come off, not before. It isn’t going to hurt my feelings if I have to tug at it bit. I remember there used to be more adhesive per band aid, even sloughing over the sides a bit. A little messy sure, but those little rubber bastards stayed where you put them. Today’s safety band aids have only a narrow strip of weak adhesive down the center so they can come right off.
I did some research and apparently, I have not been doing my due diligence when it comes to band aid shopping. There is a product called “Tough Strips” which are made to stay where you put them as opposed to regular band aids that are designed to fall off. I had no idea there were degrees of band aid. I thought a band aid was a band aid, some are more expensive than others but I thought it had to do with the available sizes. If you spend enough money you can get a box with band aids sized from approximately what you would need post abdominal surgery to the size appropriate for the pre-surgical blood draw, less money fewer choices. You might have to use that finger sized band aid for a scratched knee. You get what you pay for.
Why do I have a band aid on my foot? I have an ant bite on the top of my right foot and it itches like a son-of-a-bitch. I am strictly in the Do Not Itch club when it comes to mosquitoes because it doesn't do any good, but if you itch an ant bite forcefully enough you kill the ants’ soul, thus my need for my lazy good-for-nothing band aids, the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.
Right now I am obsessing over the band aid on my foot. It is under a sock and inside a shoe and is out of my reach. I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s there, I know its there and I can now think of nothing else. I am trying very hard to not remove my shoe, rip off the stocking and peruse this further.
But.
But I can’t do this in my office. I mean, I could but I don’t know what I would say to a passing co-worker as to why at my desk I have my pant leg hiked up and my stocking off and my foot bared. I don’t think my explanation would make them happy. Oh, I was just totally pre-occupied by the band aid on my foot and I so I decided I really needed to check and see how it was doing. The adhesive was gone I could tell, it just seemed loose and so I put another one, because I like to have back ups! And now I’m better! All done! Back to work!
Band aids used to be made better. They stayed where you put them, now they are designed to be kind free range. You put the band aid on your leg and my lunch it’s at your ankle. I blame this laxness on whiners who complained about how much it “hurts” to take off a band aid. Remember Should I go slow or just rip it off? This was about BAND-AIDS. Back when they were better trained and we were all more butch. I think they should make children’s band aids that are designed to come off with a stern look and adult band aids that you need a whip and chair to get off. I want the band aid to stay on until I want it to come off, not before. It isn’t going to hurt my feelings if I have to tug at it bit. I remember there used to be more adhesive per band aid, even sloughing over the sides a bit. A little messy sure, but those little rubber bastards stayed where you put them. Today’s safety band aids have only a narrow strip of weak adhesive down the center so they can come right off.
I did some research and apparently, I have not been doing my due diligence when it comes to band aid shopping. There is a product called “Tough Strips” which are made to stay where you put them as opposed to regular band aids that are designed to fall off. I had no idea there were degrees of band aid. I thought a band aid was a band aid, some are more expensive than others but I thought it had to do with the available sizes. If you spend enough money you can get a box with band aids sized from approximately what you would need post abdominal surgery to the size appropriate for the pre-surgical blood draw, less money fewer choices. You might have to use that finger sized band aid for a scratched knee. You get what you pay for.
Why do I have a band aid on my foot? I have an ant bite on the top of my right foot and it itches like a son-of-a-bitch. I am strictly in the Do Not Itch club when it comes to mosquitoes because it doesn't do any good, but if you itch an ant bite forcefully enough you kill the ants’ soul, thus my need for my lazy good-for-nothing band aids, the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Weeds
I thought I could “root” myself a nice honeysuckle plant if I were to take a cutting and put it in water and be nice to it. I thought it would act like a potato. It did not. It died. Do you know what under normal circumstance you have to do to kill a honeysuckle plant? Neither do I! You can’t kill honeysuckle! It’s kudzu with a better wardrobe!
And yet I did. I killed a botanical cockroach. And I did it out of love.
I had to do it because you can’t buy honeysuckle. If you go to a nursery and ask them where the honeysuckle plants are they point around to the back of the building by the wall where the store keeps its dumpster – There is the honeysuckle, but they won’t sell it to you. They will sell you messy, dirty, stinky trumpet vine and English Ivy, but they will not sell you honeysuckle. “It takes over” they say, to which I answer “Good! I want it to take over! I want it to make the drug dealers abandoned house disappear! I want it to make the DMV building vanishes from sight!” If it wants to eat the oak tree, it can do that too. The limb dropping, yard polluting SOB.
They will sell you ivy, “If you are looking for something that would climb, how about nice ivy”, well, ivy also “takes over”, big time and provides cover for vermin and kills trees. But ivy, they’ll sell to you no questions asked.
You can’t buy morning glories either. You can buy Morning Glory seeds but they won’t sell you morning glory plants. “It’s a weed” they sniff when asked for it. “It grows wild” they add and it’s a “non-native plant”. So are my tomato plants andeveryone wants to sell you a tomato plant. Really, go somewhere, any where and try not to buy a tomato plant. Everywhere you go you are assaulting by tomato plants. And I like tomato plants! I planted tomatoes! I don’t even eat tomatoes and I planted them. If you have a garden you have tomatoes planted in it. It’s a law.
Sigh. Speaking of being assaulted by the unwanted. Anyone not over Hillary raise your hands. I guess for some she is a morning glory and for others she is ivy. I need her to stop running before I forget how much affection I have for her. I really lurve Bill Clinton, like a whole lot and this campaign is making me not lurve him. I need the Hill and Bill show to go on hiatus so I can start to miss them. I can’t miss them if I can’t miss them.
I just had a thought. The political conventions lately have received are really really crummy ratings. You don’t think the networks are paying them to keep this whole thing rolling until then? I mean a real showdown at the convention would be a ratings gold mine! Remember "The Whole World’s Watching” chants? The whole world really will be watching. Do we need to see the DNC smacking itself over the head with police batons and sucking tear gas? If Hillary doesn’t get out, gracefully, and soon … We will.
I thought I could “root” myself a nice honeysuckle plant if I were to take a cutting and put it in water and be nice to it. I thought it would act like a potato. It did not. It died. Do you know what under normal circumstance you have to do to kill a honeysuckle plant? Neither do I! You can’t kill honeysuckle! It’s kudzu with a better wardrobe!
And yet I did. I killed a botanical cockroach. And I did it out of love.
I had to do it because you can’t buy honeysuckle. If you go to a nursery and ask them where the honeysuckle plants are they point around to the back of the building by the wall where the store keeps its dumpster – There is the honeysuckle, but they won’t sell it to you. They will sell you messy, dirty, stinky trumpet vine and English Ivy, but they will not sell you honeysuckle. “It takes over” they say, to which I answer “Good! I want it to take over! I want it to make the drug dealers abandoned house disappear! I want it to make the DMV building vanishes from sight!” If it wants to eat the oak tree, it can do that too. The limb dropping, yard polluting SOB.
They will sell you ivy, “If you are looking for something that would climb, how about nice ivy”, well, ivy also “takes over”, big time and provides cover for vermin and kills trees. But ivy, they’ll sell to you no questions asked.
You can’t buy morning glories either. You can buy Morning Glory seeds but they won’t sell you morning glory plants. “It’s a weed” they sniff when asked for it. “It grows wild” they add and it’s a “non-native plant”. So are my tomato plants andeveryone wants to sell you a tomato plant. Really, go somewhere, any where and try not to buy a tomato plant. Everywhere you go you are assaulting by tomato plants. And I like tomato plants! I planted tomatoes! I don’t even eat tomatoes and I planted them. If you have a garden you have tomatoes planted in it. It’s a law.
Sigh. Speaking of being assaulted by the unwanted. Anyone not over Hillary raise your hands. I guess for some she is a morning glory and for others she is ivy. I need her to stop running before I forget how much affection I have for her. I really lurve Bill Clinton, like a whole lot and this campaign is making me not lurve him. I need the Hill and Bill show to go on hiatus so I can start to miss them. I can’t miss them if I can’t miss them.
I just had a thought. The political conventions lately have received are really really crummy ratings. You don’t think the networks are paying them to keep this whole thing rolling until then? I mean a real showdown at the convention would be a ratings gold mine! Remember "The Whole World’s Watching” chants? The whole world really will be watching. Do we need to see the DNC smacking itself over the head with police batons and sucking tear gas? If Hillary doesn’t get out, gracefully, and soon … We will.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Wednesday Alphabet-blogging
A through M, some of the images are, um, well, more literal than others. Enjoy.
Idea lifted from 26things
A through M, some of the images are, um, well, more literal than others. Enjoy.
Idea lifted from 26things
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
I want ya'll to know that I went to my voting place at 6:34 this morning and I stood in line, I had to wait.
We don’t need no stink’in sleep
I am still tired. This is Doggers fault. Friday night I was supposed to close my little eyes and sleep the sleep of the exhausted or at least the sleep of someone who had worked all day and then drove for two hours. But prior to going to bed I put Dogger to bed, confident that she was going to be as comfortable in her own room in her own little bed as I was going to be with mine.
About 12:30 AM Dogger woke up and it became very important to her that she alert the household to this, and neighbors and the people on the other side of the river. She was awake and we needed to know. Doggers barking, amplified by the acoustics of the basement, took on the character of artillery fire.
I love my dog. The first time her barking woke me, I said to myself That must be the dog next door. Bad doggy! Someone should make that dog shut up and I went back to sleep, confident that it wasn’t my dog barking in the middle of the night. My dog wouldn’t do that.
barkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbark .
I was wide awake now and That was my dog barking. I needed to stop it and I needed to stop it now. I marched downstairs flicked on the basement light and flung the door open. Dogger was watching the garage door closely. She looked at me as to say It started it!. I looked at her and said in my fiercest whisper possible Shut up! Go Back to Sleep! . Mission accomplished I hustled myself back to my bed.
barkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbark .
And I went back downstairs and decided that what maybe the baby wanted was company. Granted, I know it’s a very bad idea to get them used to company when it’s bed time. It’s important for them to understand that sleeping is not a group activity - at least until college at the very earliest. But Dogger is not a baby or even a puppy for that matter. She should be able to sleep on her own, but I just wanted to sleep. I wanted the whole condo association to sleep. I decided it was a lesser evil to stage an impromptu slumber party was then it was for her to bark all night. Now I had to decide, was it worse to sleep on the carpeted concrete? or curl up on a dog bed? A clean dog bed, but a dog’s bed non-the-less. Did I mention it’s cooler in the basement then upstairs? It was . Considerably. And that unlike the dog I do not have a heavy coat of fur. I think there is a reason humans invented the bed. The floor is cold and we just do not have enough fur.
I (tried) to sleep. Dogger was sleeping.. I lay there and tried to figure out what she was barking at, maybe she was alerted by kids on night maneuvers or maybe there was a fisherman out night fishing who had since moved on. She seemed okay and I was drifting off.; But never so far away that I didn’t know the floor was cold or that I was using a dog’s bed as pillow. Yes, I am a princess. Dogger had been still for a long time and I missed my own bed.
I went back up to my room. And all was quite.
barkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbark .
Like a freaking ack-ack gun. Like she wanted to alert us that we were being attacked by Nazi’s with ack-ack guns. I went back downstairs and told her again to SHUT UP. This time however, I came prepared. I had a blanket and a pillow. I meant business damn it. I wasn’t going to go down there and babysit her. I was going to stay on the stairs. Where it was warm and carpeted... Have you ever tried to sleep on stairs? The fact that hey are carpeted have very little to do with their appropriate-ness as bedding. They are stairs. They are uncomfortable.
Saturday night, Dogger slept inside the house and we all slept through the night.
We don’t need no stink’in sleep
I am still tired. This is Doggers fault. Friday night I was supposed to close my little eyes and sleep the sleep of the exhausted or at least the sleep of someone who had worked all day and then drove for two hours. But prior to going to bed I put Dogger to bed, confident that she was going to be as comfortable in her own room in her own little bed as I was going to be with mine.
About 12:30 AM Dogger woke up and it became very important to her that she alert the household to this, and neighbors and the people on the other side of the river. She was awake and we needed to know. Doggers barking, amplified by the acoustics of the basement, took on the character of artillery fire.
I love my dog. The first time her barking woke me, I said to myself That must be the dog next door. Bad doggy! Someone should make that dog shut up and I went back to sleep, confident that it wasn’t my dog barking in the middle of the night. My dog wouldn’t do that.
barkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbark .
I was wide awake now and That was my dog barking. I needed to stop it and I needed to stop it now. I marched downstairs flicked on the basement light and flung the door open. Dogger was watching the garage door closely. She looked at me as to say It started it!. I looked at her and said in my fiercest whisper possible Shut up! Go Back to Sleep! . Mission accomplished I hustled myself back to my bed.
barkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbark .
And I went back downstairs and decided that what maybe the baby wanted was company. Granted, I know it’s a very bad idea to get them used to company when it’s bed time. It’s important for them to understand that sleeping is not a group activity - at least until college at the very earliest. But Dogger is not a baby or even a puppy for that matter. She should be able to sleep on her own, but I just wanted to sleep. I wanted the whole condo association to sleep. I decided it was a lesser evil to stage an impromptu slumber party was then it was for her to bark all night. Now I had to decide, was it worse to sleep on the carpeted concrete? or curl up on a dog bed? A clean dog bed, but a dog’s bed non-the-less. Did I mention it’s cooler in the basement then upstairs? It was . Considerably. And that unlike the dog I do not have a heavy coat of fur. I think there is a reason humans invented the bed. The floor is cold and we just do not have enough fur.
I (tried) to sleep. Dogger was sleeping.. I lay there and tried to figure out what she was barking at, maybe she was alerted by kids on night maneuvers or maybe there was a fisherman out night fishing who had since moved on. She seemed okay and I was drifting off.; But never so far away that I didn’t know the floor was cold or that I was using a dog’s bed as pillow. Yes, I am a princess. Dogger had been still for a long time and I missed my own bed.
I went back up to my room. And all was quite.
barkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbark .
Like a freaking ack-ack gun. Like she wanted to alert us that we were being attacked by Nazi’s with ack-ack guns. I went back downstairs and told her again to SHUT UP. This time however, I came prepared. I had a blanket and a pillow. I meant business damn it. I wasn’t going to go down there and babysit her. I was going to stay on the stairs. Where it was warm and carpeted... Have you ever tried to sleep on stairs? The fact that hey are carpeted have very little to do with their appropriate-ness as bedding. They are stairs. They are uncomfortable.
Saturday night, Dogger slept inside the house and we all slept through the night.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Monday Photo-Blogging!
Friday night the cats were out on my parents deck. It was getting dark and we brought them in. A little while later I saw that my parents' cat was playing with something. I don't like "somethings". Is a baby rat thing? is it a bug thing? is it a big bug thing? or is it just a dead leaf thing? A dead bug thing can still elicit a fit, albeit a small one. I want to know what kind of thing it is so I can make adjustments to my screaming fit.
The thing turned out to be a tree frog. An alive tree frog.
Mild fit, no screaming. Threat level lowered to mild panic. However, tree frogs belong in trees. They do not belong inside, they really do not belong hopping on my head at 3 am. Mr. Alive Tree Frog needed to go.
Mr. Alive Tree frog did not want to go. Mr. Alive Tree Frog wanted to stay alive and he felt the best way to do this was to hide from the two cats, regardless of if there was a tree handy. For a time Mr. Alive Tree Frog was also working under Mr. Alive Fire Place Frog and Mr. Alive Under the Chair Frog.
My father went to great effort to wrangle/direct Mr. Alive Fireplace Frog out of the fireplace and back outside to his tree. And then we put the cats back out. And then Mr. Kitty came back into the house. Veryfast. Like like a shot really. Mr. Alive Tree Frog was now working under Mr. Alive Riding On The Cat Frog. For this race Mr. Kitty paid $.3.87, $4.56 and $6.92.
This time, I trapped Mr. Frog and my Mother removed him before he discovered that this tree had stairs. We also kept the cats inside, just in case.
Photoblogging!
Friday night the cats were out on my parents deck. It was getting dark and we brought them in. A little while later I saw that my parents' cat was playing with something. I don't like "somethings". Is a baby rat thing? is it a bug thing? is it a big bug thing? or is it just a dead leaf thing? A dead bug thing can still elicit a fit, albeit a small one. I want to know what kind of thing it is so I can make adjustments to my screaming fit.
The thing turned out to be a tree frog. An alive tree frog.
Mild fit, no screaming. Threat level lowered to mild panic. However, tree frogs belong in trees. They do not belong inside, they really do not belong hopping on my head at 3 am. Mr. Alive Tree Frog needed to go.
Mr. Alive Tree frog did not want to go. Mr. Alive Tree Frog wanted to stay alive and he felt the best way to do this was to hide from the two cats, regardless of if there was a tree handy. For a time Mr. Alive Tree Frog was also working under Mr. Alive Fire Place Frog and Mr. Alive Under the Chair Frog.
My father went to great effort to wrangle/direct Mr. Alive Fireplace Frog out of the fireplace and back outside to his tree. And then we put the cats back out. And then Mr. Kitty came back into the house. Veryfast. Like like a shot really. Mr. Alive Tree Frog was now working under Mr. Alive Riding On The Cat Frog. For this race Mr. Kitty paid $.3.87, $4.56 and $6.92.
This time, I trapped Mr. Frog and my Mother removed him before he discovered that this tree had stairs. We also kept the cats inside, just in case.
Photoblogging!
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Friday, May 2, 2008
I should think less
I can’t tell if the cold I’m working on is a late Winter cold or an early Summer cold or spring allergies. I hate multiple choice. I would gather that the bacteria that cause sore throats really don’t check the calendar before they do their thing ”Okay. Let’s see. I have a sore throat, a mild flu and a stuffed nose on the schedule. OH, wait, I can’t go with the sore throat until at least July or it will get confused with an allergy. I hate that those guys get all our glory this time of year. It really plays hell with my morale, I’ll tell you. I guess I’ll save the sore throat and go with the stuffed up nose, I’ll still lose the credit but it’s less work.” .
I think sore throats would be more work to maintain, it would seem that someone would have to be there all the time to keep the area good and inflamed and to make sure that the pain is consistent - a lot of work, every swallow has got to hurt. It’s a crap shoot though, all that work that may end up being a waste because it might end up with anti-biotics and once they’re in the office the lay off’s are immanent - Unless you have the wherewithal to turn it into tonsillitis or something. That is where the glory is, organ involvement. I mean once you have infected an entire organ, you’re a rock star around the office.
I actually blame all the rain. It was dry for months and I was fine, now it’s all damp and I’m sick again. Do you need to aid water to germs to make them work? Like those seeds in the desert that are fine for months and months without water but then once the rain does fall they just go bananas.
Do you think this is the fault of the dirt store? Could all that lovely designer dirt have done this? Where was the quality control? Do you think it’s really Chinese dirt? I was fine before and now you know, ow. I’ve long believed everything made in China is made by enslaved political dissidents, could their dirt be political dissidents? With head colds! My cold was made in China! Goodness, it should only last a couple of days before it peters out. A genuine made-in-the-USA cold would hang on for weeks. It’s all about pride in craftsmanship.
Raleigh wouldn’t buy cheap Chinese dirt would they? I know we use prison labor for a lot around here, as in if you are a state employee just about everything you touch is made by prison labor. But not the pens, the prisoners make really sucky pens. I had one and while it looked really cool and for a free pen it was really heavy and blingy – it lasted only about six weeks before it stopped working.
But I would still assume if the dirt store was going to use ground up prisoners as an additive to our dirt, they would use homegrown ground up prisoners and not fool around with the cheap imported ground up prisoners that China sells. And hell, with the problems their having now with quality control? Gawd only knows what you might end up growing in your garden along with the carrots and tomatoes. You could walk out to your garden and find it was taken over by Bok Choy! No, if you are going to use ground up prisoners as an additive in your soil, buy local.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD !!!!!!
I can’t tell if the cold I’m working on is a late Winter cold or an early Summer cold or spring allergies. I hate multiple choice. I would gather that the bacteria that cause sore throats really don’t check the calendar before they do their thing ”Okay. Let’s see. I have a sore throat, a mild flu and a stuffed nose on the schedule. OH, wait, I can’t go with the sore throat until at least July or it will get confused with an allergy. I hate that those guys get all our glory this time of year. It really plays hell with my morale, I’ll tell you. I guess I’ll save the sore throat and go with the stuffed up nose, I’ll still lose the credit but it’s less work.” .
I think sore throats would be more work to maintain, it would seem that someone would have to be there all the time to keep the area good and inflamed and to make sure that the pain is consistent - a lot of work, every swallow has got to hurt. It’s a crap shoot though, all that work that may end up being a waste because it might end up with anti-biotics and once they’re in the office the lay off’s are immanent - Unless you have the wherewithal to turn it into tonsillitis or something. That is where the glory is, organ involvement. I mean once you have infected an entire organ, you’re a rock star around the office.
I actually blame all the rain. It was dry for months and I was fine, now it’s all damp and I’m sick again. Do you need to aid water to germs to make them work? Like those seeds in the desert that are fine for months and months without water but then once the rain does fall they just go bananas.
Do you think this is the fault of the dirt store? Could all that lovely designer dirt have done this? Where was the quality control? Do you think it’s really Chinese dirt? I was fine before and now you know, ow. I’ve long believed everything made in China is made by enslaved political dissidents, could their dirt be political dissidents? With head colds! My cold was made in China! Goodness, it should only last a couple of days before it peters out. A genuine made-in-the-USA cold would hang on for weeks. It’s all about pride in craftsmanship.
Raleigh wouldn’t buy cheap Chinese dirt would they? I know we use prison labor for a lot around here, as in if you are a state employee just about everything you touch is made by prison labor. But not the pens, the prisoners make really sucky pens. I had one and while it looked really cool and for a free pen it was really heavy and blingy – it lasted only about six weeks before it stopped working.
But I would still assume if the dirt store was going to use ground up prisoners as an additive to our dirt, they would use homegrown ground up prisoners and not fool around with the cheap imported ground up prisoners that China sells. And hell, with the problems their having now with quality control? Gawd only knows what you might end up growing in your garden along with the carrots and tomatoes. You could walk out to your garden and find it was taken over by Bok Choy! No, if you are going to use ground up prisoners as an additive in your soil, buy local.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD !!!!!!
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Poll: Bush most unpopular president in modern history
WASHINGTON (CNN) — A new poll suggests that George W. Bush is the most unpopular president in modern American history.
A CNN/Opinion Research Corporation survey released Thursday indicates that 71 percent of the American public disapprove of how Bush his handling his job as president.
"No president has ever had a higher disapproval rating in any CNN or Gallup poll; in fact, this is the first time that any president's disapproval rating has cracked the 70 percent mark," said CNN Polling Director Keating Holland.
"Bush's approval rating, which stands at 28 percent in our new poll, remains better than the all-time lows set by Harry Truman and Richard Nixon (22 percent and 24 percent, respectively) but even those two presidents never got a disapproval rating in the 70s," Holland added. "The previous all-time record in CNN or Gallup polling was set by Truman, 66 percent disapproval in January 1952."
CNN Senior Political Analyst Bill Schneider adds, "He is more unpopular than Richard Nixon was just before he resigned from the presidency in August 1974." President Nixon's disapproval rating in August 1974 stood at 67 percent.
The poll also indicates that support for the war in Iraq has never been lower. Thirty percent of those questioned favored the war while 68 percent opposed the conflict.
"Americans are growing more pessimistic about the war," Holland said. "In January, nearly half believed that things were going well for the U.S. in Iraq; now that figure has dropped to 39 percent."
The numbers on the Iraq war come on the five-year anniversary of President Bush's "mission accomplished" moment onboard the aircraft carrier USS Abraham Lincoln, when Bush proclaimed that "major combat operations in Iraq have ended."
The record low support for the war in a CNN poll could be one reason behind the president's unpopularity, but it probably is not the only one.
"Support for the war, the assessment of the economy and approval of Mr. Bush are all about the same — bad," Schneider said.
The CNN/Opinion Research Corporation poll was conducted by telephone from Monday through Wednesday, with 1,008 adult Americans questioned. The poll's sampling error is plus or minus 3 percentage points.
WASHINGTON (CNN) — A new poll suggests that George W. Bush is the most unpopular president in modern American history.
A CNN/Opinion Research Corporation survey released Thursday indicates that 71 percent of the American public disapprove of how Bush his handling his job as president.
"No president has ever had a higher disapproval rating in any CNN or Gallup poll; in fact, this is the first time that any president's disapproval rating has cracked the 70 percent mark," said CNN Polling Director Keating Holland.
"Bush's approval rating, which stands at 28 percent in our new poll, remains better than the all-time lows set by Harry Truman and Richard Nixon (22 percent and 24 percent, respectively) but even those two presidents never got a disapproval rating in the 70s," Holland added. "The previous all-time record in CNN or Gallup polling was set by Truman, 66 percent disapproval in January 1952."
CNN Senior Political Analyst Bill Schneider adds, "He is more unpopular than Richard Nixon was just before he resigned from the presidency in August 1974." President Nixon's disapproval rating in August 1974 stood at 67 percent.
The poll also indicates that support for the war in Iraq has never been lower. Thirty percent of those questioned favored the war while 68 percent opposed the conflict.
"Americans are growing more pessimistic about the war," Holland said. "In January, nearly half believed that things were going well for the U.S. in Iraq; now that figure has dropped to 39 percent."
The numbers on the Iraq war come on the five-year anniversary of President Bush's "mission accomplished" moment onboard the aircraft carrier USS Abraham Lincoln, when Bush proclaimed that "major combat operations in Iraq have ended."
The record low support for the war in a CNN poll could be one reason behind the president's unpopularity, but it probably is not the only one.
"Support for the war, the assessment of the economy and approval of Mr. Bush are all about the same — bad," Schneider said.
The CNN/Opinion Research Corporation poll was conducted by telephone from Monday through Wednesday, with 1,008 adult Americans questioned. The poll's sampling error is plus or minus 3 percentage points.
Machines
I learned the other day that the people who own the single candy machine in our break room, fired us, they said it was because 1) poor sales and 2) Too many complaints.
“Too many complaints”. That’s what I call customer service. The only complaints was ever aware of was there was almost always a sign taped to the front of it complaining that the machine ate money. Those damn customers and their sticky money! And the machine was pricey - Nothing cools your adore for that .85 snickers bar like knowing that at every other building on campus it doesn’t run more than .65, and I don’t even want to talk about the .75 bags of chips. The tiniest chip bags on the market and they had the nerve to price them like that and the less said about the $1.00 poptarts the better. The pirates on my corner don’t even have that much gall.
The balls on the candy machine people. They price themselves out of the market and then blame their customers when their product doesn’t move... And then someone assaulted it, but that was the just the one time and it was clearly an isolated incident - and it was just simple assault - If she had punched a person like that she wouldn’t even have gotten a fine. A ticket, maybe. Well, anger management classes. You would have thought they would have brought us a bigger machine, one more able to stand up for itself, take punch if it had to.
And before you say Oh, just bring candy from home, That would mean that you would absolutely have candy in your desk. All the time. All you would have to do would be to open that drawer and grab some. There isn’t any effort involved. You want some candy, you get some candy. There isn’t any investment. If you have a stocked machine, you have stop what you are doing, scratch up the change, and hike to the machine and then once at the machine you have to figure out what you want, if you want anything it has. I can’t count how many times I went to the candy machine thinking I wanted a candy bar , only to get there and discover that I really didn’t, or that the only true candy bar they had was a Snickers and once I thought about it for a while, what I really wanted was a Milky Way and the machine didn’t have any so I walked away. But sometimes the machine had Lorna Doone cookies and that was always a very good day. I never walked away from the Lorna Doones - But sometimes I had to wait for them.
They would be behind some other cookie that I could resist and I would have to wait for someone to get those cookies and there was always a lot of them because everyone found them easy to resist, and then only after the lesser cookies were gone, then I could get “my” cookies - But that gambit involves always having the right amount of change or holding back a dollar and going back and forth to the machine to see if any progress has been made and being able to move on a dime. You have to be ready to go at all times, Lorna Doones aren’t about your schedule. Lorna Doones are totally free spirits. A successful pursuit involves a lot of back and forth. It’s almost a work out, especially if it takes a while for someone to finally buy those nasty cookies that have been standing guard over the Lorna Doones.
But then you really have to get down there because once the Lorna Doones are freed, they are gone. There were only like four packs ever and they would be gone by lunch. And they would never give us more, “Oh, look they bought the hell out of those Lorna Doones, They really seem to like cookies, why not this time we give them twice as much of the Pecan Sandie's”
Bastards.
I learned the other day that the people who own the single candy machine in our break room, fired us, they said it was because 1) poor sales and 2) Too many complaints.
“Too many complaints”. That’s what I call customer service. The only complaints was ever aware of was there was almost always a sign taped to the front of it complaining that the machine ate money. Those damn customers and their sticky money! And the machine was pricey - Nothing cools your adore for that .85 snickers bar like knowing that at every other building on campus it doesn’t run more than .65, and I don’t even want to talk about the .75 bags of chips. The tiniest chip bags on the market and they had the nerve to price them like that and the less said about the $1.00 poptarts the better. The pirates on my corner don’t even have that much gall.
The balls on the candy machine people. They price themselves out of the market and then blame their customers when their product doesn’t move... And then someone assaulted it, but that was the just the one time and it was clearly an isolated incident - and it was just simple assault - If she had punched a person like that she wouldn’t even have gotten a fine. A ticket, maybe. Well, anger management classes. You would have thought they would have brought us a bigger machine, one more able to stand up for itself, take punch if it had to.
And before you say Oh, just bring candy from home, That would mean that you would absolutely have candy in your desk. All the time. All you would have to do would be to open that drawer and grab some. There isn’t any effort involved. You want some candy, you get some candy. There isn’t any investment. If you have a stocked machine, you have stop what you are doing, scratch up the change, and hike to the machine and then once at the machine you have to figure out what you want, if you want anything it has. I can’t count how many times I went to the candy machine thinking I wanted a candy bar , only to get there and discover that I really didn’t, or that the only true candy bar they had was a Snickers and once I thought about it for a while, what I really wanted was a Milky Way and the machine didn’t have any so I walked away. But sometimes the machine had Lorna Doone cookies and that was always a very good day. I never walked away from the Lorna Doones - But sometimes I had to wait for them.
They would be behind some other cookie that I could resist and I would have to wait for someone to get those cookies and there was always a lot of them because everyone found them easy to resist, and then only after the lesser cookies were gone, then I could get “my” cookies - But that gambit involves always having the right amount of change or holding back a dollar and going back and forth to the machine to see if any progress has been made and being able to move on a dime. You have to be ready to go at all times, Lorna Doones aren’t about your schedule. Lorna Doones are totally free spirits. A successful pursuit involves a lot of back and forth. It’s almost a work out, especially if it takes a while for someone to finally buy those nasty cookies that have been standing guard over the Lorna Doones.
But then you really have to get down there because once the Lorna Doones are freed, they are gone. There were only like four packs ever and they would be gone by lunch. And they would never give us more, “Oh, look they bought the hell out of those Lorna Doones, They really seem to like cookies, why not this time we give them twice as much of the Pecan Sandie's”
Bastards.
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