Poladroid...cool!

Just because I like posting back to back then disappear for a month, here's just something I stumbled on. Poladroid takes your digital pictures and converts them into Polaroid type pictures. Golly, even Justin Timberlake likes using it, it must be good!

What I like is that it takes forever and a day for the picture to 'develop', just like a real Polaroid.



Hey, wedding picture!:

But I've already switched to decaf.

So this morning I'm driving to work and I notice that the driver in front of me has, from what I can tell from the angle and squintyness of early morning, a huge mop of frizzy, curly, grey hair on which on top he has placed the most comical little black bowler hat. I know this is hard to describe and I really did attempt to draw you a picture in Paintbrush but it really didn't do it justice so you'll just have to bear with me here...but just imagine. Normal sized man with really big, I mean like Carrot Top big, curly grey hair and the world's smallest bowler hat.

Look, it's like this:



On this:



But this color:



It was one of those things that I stared at in disbelief wondering what the hell a man wearing a tiny little bowler hat on his enormously huge noggin of old man hair would be doing at this time of morning. He couldn't possibly be going to work unless his work was part of a Three Stooges Come Back Tour. Was he going shopping for a new hat? Was he on his way to the barber's and wanted to show the barber how he would like his hat to fit? It was a mystery.

Of course, when I pulled over to the side of his car I realized man with small bowler hat on big head of hair was really a tall woman with Very Unfortunate Bangs.

Well hello 2010!

So much for my plan to document my days in England! I had that first day there where I was just sort of bumming around not doing much of any consequence and the next thing I know I’m sitting on the plane home wondering where the hell the time went. Such is life I suppose. To give you a very short recap (as it’s over a month gone now and all my memory will please me with is recaps):

ENGLAND WEEK ONE: While Andy slaved away at work (sometimes working well into the midnight hours) I did a solo trip to Leeds where I managed to strain my foot, spent a day with Andy’s sister exploring pretty (albeit touristy) Bronte landscapes and 4 floors of the Bradford media museum, did an overnight trip to York where I fell in love with a pub called the Priory (only to find out later on it was a chain), spent another evening in Leeds, and finally headed back to Crosby with Andy in tow.

Beautiful but touristy Hayworth

ENGLAND WEEK TWO: Andy and I spent two days in Liverpool city centre where we ventured around Albert Dock, stalked the Go Penguins, saw his friend in a Christmas play called ‘Merry Ding Dong’, and danced and sang with the older crowd at the American Irish Pub. The rest was Christmas week in Crosby where we spent a lot of time in Stamps stealing their internet, going to pub quizzes and wearing silly but awesome Christmas hats.

Beatles Go Penguins

SuperLambanana!

ENGLAND WEEK THREE: More family Christmas time, but managed to fit in a Liverpool vs. the Wolves match at the Kop, another day trip into Liverpool city centre, and a two day trip to Llandudno in Northern Wales.

Freezing our tits off in Llandudno!

The weather…well, the weather was shit. I don’t suppose you can’t expect much else from England in December. I did get to see snow for the first time in 5 years. I soon realized that I didn’t miss snow one bit though we did have 15 minutes of fun throwing snowballs one evening on the walk home from the pub.

Things I love about England:

• 1 & 2 Pound coins
  
• The public transit system, mainly trains
  
• Food such as: Quavers, sausage rolls, Hob Nobs, never having to ask to mayo on your sandwich as it’s always already there, awesome chocolate, ‘irish’ bacon, meat pasties and pies, and great beer.
  
• Food & Beer deals – for example, most places offered a lunch meal with beer special for 4 pounds ($6.00).
  
• Lack of stigma for actually having a beer with your lunch!
  
• Friendly people (and I love when they mention that they thought they noticed an American ‘twang’ in my voice)
  
• British television, including the commercials – funny stuff! Also, nakedness and swear words, oh my!
  
• The accent of course…when I could understand them.

Things I didn’t really care for about England:

• The lack of dryers – everything is hung on the radiators to dry, including your ‘knickers’
  
• Trains and just about any other business that doesn’t run\isn’t open on holidays, or around a holiday, or just because they just don’t feel like it.
  
• Food: No ranch dressing, peas and\or carrots being the only vegetable side served with meals, and lack of decaf coffee, tea, and soda.
  
• Never having a good hair day because it was always damp in some shape or form.
  
• Bathrooms: Piss poor water pressure in showers if lucky enough to have a shower, toilets that aren’t in the same room as the shower\bath, taps that are separated out into hot and cold so either you burn your hands or freeze them to death, and general lack of paper towel dispensers in public restrooms (would be alright if the hand dryers actually blew hot air).

And that was England, and it was good. Of course, the week after we got back from England, Andy and I got married, and that was good too. We had Andy’s mum and sister staying with us for about a week before\during the wedding and all my family and friends from Wisconsin showed up the weekend of. It was busy and hectic and a wee bit stressful and I came down with a cold, but I married a wonderful man (even giggling through the entire ceremony forgetting my lines) and I’m very happy.

The bachelor and bachelorette

Next month Andy and I leave for our honeymoon. We’re doing 3 days in Vegas for the Rugby 7’s tournament, then 5 days in New Orleans to catch the end of Mardi Gras.
So that’s 2010 so far. Sheesh! I’m exhausted.

Guiseley, England

I’m currently sitting in a place called the Cellar V in Guiesely, England. There is supposedly free Wi-Fi here (with a passcode of ‘splendid’…how very English) but I’ve yet to get it connected properly. No worries, I’ll be headed over to the Regent (how very English) soon for lunch and a pint – and more free Wi-Fi – hopefully though with a valid connection.

So yes! I made it here. Here being England, a place I never thought I would get to see again unless I spent a week on a train and 6 days on an ocean liner. The flight, or flights, turned out OK. Although queasy at the John Wayne airport, I managed not to puke and by the time we were up in the air with the seatbelt sign off, I was fine. I even managed about an hour and ½ of sleep on the flight from Jersey to Manchester. At this point I’d like to call Andy a big ole liar who stated, “there’s never turbulence over the ocean” as there was, and badly so. I will forgive Andy though as without him, I wouldn’t be sitting here at the Cellar V in Guiselely, England. Thank you sweetheart.

The first 24 hours here have been great. We got in at about 7:30 in the morning and were picked up by Andy’s cousin, Julia, and her 5-year old daughter, Eliska. Julia drove us to Andy’s mom’s house (sorry, mum’s house) where I had not less than 3 cups of tea and a plate full of biscuits while discussing Dr. Who and other British programming. Andy’s mum recently got a DVR so according to all the shows we circled in the TV guide for recording, we will be watching tellie for approximately 4 days full stop.

By the way, yes, I will be using British verbiage for now as I have already been scolded\corrected too many times for my American English to go back right now. I used ‘potato chips’! I know they are ‘crisps’ dammit, the word just didn’t escape my mouth in time!

After chatting with Andy’s mum and then a roast dinner, Julia took Andy and I to Anfield, the home of the Liverpool Football Club. There was a match on between Arsenal and Liverpool and Julia and had tickets for her and Andy. I did not mind not going to the game as it was fucking freezing out and I much preferred to sit in a warm pub…well, that was the plan anyhow. I had no idea how crazy the pubs around Anfield would be. Standing room only, lots of Liverpool chant songs, smells of meat pies and cigarettes, loads of “excuse me, love” while being elbowed out of the way. When the match started the pub was left like a State Fair at closing time. Only a few unlucky non-ticket holders remained, broken glass and beer littered the floor. On every available surface there were bottles and pints of beer, some empty but mostly not. I wondered at the fact that there weren’t a few kids or homeless folk chugging the beer leftovers on the tables. I am not kidding in any way when I state that a person could get drunk 3 times over for what was left. Andy and I parted ways and I went up for a pint. With no TV to watch the match on, I ended up just sitting in one of the side rooms by myself honestly wondering what I was going to do for the next 2 hours. I need not worry. I wasn’t there for more than 5 minutes when this Scouse (term for a person from Liverpool) girl came up and asked me if I was alone. After saying I was she said, “Come’n join us then, we’re all Liverpool Football widows.”

The next two hours passed in a daze. I was jet lagged, and with no sleep, managed to get myself rather drunk rather quickly. I heard of the widows love lives and their jobs, truthfully missing half of what was said (if I’m not concentrating well enough (read: drunk), I have a hard time with accents). Not that I was alone. I have the accent here. Carrie, the girl who invited me over, never could understand that I was from California, instead introducing me to everyone as the girl from Canada. Close enough, right? I was laughing up a storm and having a grand time when Andy finally found me. He seemed a bit shocked at my new band of friends. I may or may not have introduced him as my husband from Canada.

Andy and Julia dragged me away finally and we grabbed what I imagine is the best meat pie and chips I’ve ever had the pleasure of eating (but this opinion might be lager based) and put me in the back seat of the car. Apparently I was in the back seat of the car for about 3 hours…not that I remember as I was dead asleep, only waking when we got back to Julia’s. Two cups of tea later and I was in bed where I slept for 9 hours straight without waking up once. Thank you beer and jet lag.

Today Andy had to go to work in Leeds so Julia’s husband, Lokash, took me about Guiseley. We had a full English breakfast for 3 pounds and then Lokash showed me around town. The town isn’t that big but for me, I’m finding plenty to do. Hell, I could spend an hour at the grocery store just looking about.

Sorry I don’t have any pictures to show you right now. Andy took the camera cord into work with him. Maybe I’ll give you a webcam shot of the Cellar V. Oh hey, that worked. Cool.



A group of teenagers just walked past. They are all wearing uniforms and for an American, one can’t help but think that one just stepped into a Harry Potter film.

A bit about the rain

I moved to Southern California for a reason. Well, to be fair, I moved to Southern California for loads of reasons, but the biggest one being the weather. After spending many a chilly winter growing up in Wisconsin, the yearlong 70+ degree weather of Southern California was a godsend. Every year I’m so grateful that I’m not breaking my back shoveling the walk or being white knuckled and panic stricken trying to drive to work during a blizzard. I haven’t seen snow in 6 years and I’m very comfortable about that. That being said, Southern California has this nasty habit of being sunny ALL THE TIME. I’m sure a lot of you are reading this from the warm comfort of your living rooms looking at the snow outside and sneering at me for thinking such a thing, but let’s be honest…too much of anything will start to wear on you. I love the weather here, don’t get me wrong. But every now and again, you just wish for a cloudy day. Or rain! I love rain.

Today is one of those very rare rainy days. And not just a morning sprinkle with the sun doing it’s jolly “dum dee dum dum, let’s brighten the people’s day” in the afternoon. No, this is a proper cold rain with proper clouds and proper need for an umbrella. Because rain doesn’t happen very often, when it does, it’s absolutely awesome. I went to Starbucks this morning. I was wearing a scarf. I had buttoned my jacket all the way up. I ordered a latte and was completely buzzing about it. It was that whole “it’s cold and wet out there but it’s warm and cozy in here” sort of feeling. Trust me when I say that I don’t like Starbucks that much normally. I’m really looking forward to going home tonight and getting under a blanket and watching a crap movie with a cup of tea. I like doing that usually, but when it’s raining, I don’t feel so guilty about it.

We’re leaving for England in 5 days and I will get my lion’s share of rain there. I’m sure by the end of three weeks I’ll be moaning about wet jeans, frizzy hair, destroyed cigarettes. But for right now, I’m digging it- rain away.

I feel I have myself to blame...

In September last year I wrote an entry about Shishmaref, Alaska. It was basically a piss take:

Shishmaref Piss Take

Now I find out today that poor seal oil loving Shishmaref is falling into the sea:

Shishmaref Suicide Watch

Community of Shishmaref, I was only joking. No need to fling yourself into the ocean! I'm sure you are all really lovely people who aren't cannibals.

So what have YOU been up to?

Sorry to be absent for so long. I have been meaning to throw something out for a couple weeks now but as usual time got away from me and most everything I have to say is Old News. Ach well, I think you’ll live.

The entry I was going to write about but never did was about Andy’s birthday over two weeks ago. His birthday was on November 19th, but I surprised him with a trip up to LA on the Saturday after. It was a pretty good surprise if I do say so myself.

At 2 o’clock on that Saturday, I handed him an envelope with a task in it. The first task was to use the enclosed directions to get us to the hotel in Beverly Hills. The 2nd envelope directed us to a restaurant, the 3rd a bar, so on and so forth. I had 9 envelopes in total, each with a time to open the envelope and instructions on what we’d be doing next. I sent us to the restaurant, quite a few bars, an improve show, on the LA subway system, a bar that was run by a Russian lady who tried to overfeed us, a long walk through Echo Park, more bars. Andy got to have an old man’s drink in the Dresden, a fruity cocktail at Tiki Ti, a not so great showing of Beer Shark Mice. It turned out really well. When I ran out of envelopes we just hopped in a cab – which was the story of us asking our cab driver to take us to a dive bar in Beverly Hills and him dropping us off at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel with $17 cocktails and the most beautiful Christmas tree I’ve ever seen. I might have tried to steal one of the posh cloth towels in the Ladies room. Andy definitely stole a pen and very cheekily asked that our complimentary snacks be boxed up (just on principle).

So that was two weeks ago…

This past weekend, Thanksgiving weekend, which seems like a virtual lifetime ago was also very busy.

Thanksgiving Day we invited Maggie, Dave, and Cousin Tony to have dinner with us. All was going well until an unfortunate argument over the proper method to make Pillsbury Crescent Rolls. Not wanting to get into it, let’s just say that the argument had me storming out of the house and driving off to Mutt Lynch’s. I stayed at Mutt’s for hours (having forgotten my phone) and was taken care of by Sarah and her friend via free food, drinks and fruity shots. I also pet a horse. Yes, a horse. I’m just sitting there and the woman next to me looks over and says, “Would you like to pet my horse?” Already knowing that there was a trailer outside that had a horse in it and not worrying that this woman was offering me drugs or worse, I said, “Yes.” It was a very nice horse. I got a hold of Andy later and we spent the rest of the night on the peninsula.

The Saturday after, we had the Harp Golf Tournament. I’ve never played golf before but Mari wanted to play and needed a team. The Harp hosts this tournament every year and it’s a pretty sweet deal. For $100 you get 18 holes of golf (including golf cart), a swag bag (read: a bunch of promotional crap that the Harp got for free and wanted to get rid of), a cold lunch, and a bag of beer. A bag of beer! What’s not to like? Overall I did very very poorly until about the 13th or 14th hole when I was standing in the way of Andy’s drive shot and got hit in the knee. While incredibly painful (still), you have to admit it’s funny. I think it’s funny and everyone (except Andy who feels dreadful about it) thinks it funny. It’s hard to imagine without the proper sound effects but just imagine the crack of the driver hitting golf ball, the thunck of said ball hitting my knee, and the thud of me hitting the ground like a shot. Anyhow, because my knee hit and I couldn’t really move it without some pain, I ended up playing OK the last few rounds as my whole initial problem was that I was moving around too much. I’m not sure I want to play golf again if I have to be injured to play decently. After golf was the free steak dinner at the Harp and my award for Best Female Golfer. Ironic, no?

Sunday Andy and I went out on Patrick and Michele’s new boat for a Harbor Cruise but there’s not much to say about it except that it was relaxing as all get out.

So that’s about it I think, you’re all caught up. Andy and I leave for our 3 week England vacation, sorry, holiday soon so I’ve mostly been running around trying to get everything taken care of for the trip and last minute things for the wedding which is all of 8 days after we get back. Oh, and the Pub Quiz is tonight if you feel like coming down.

Roll That Orange!

I'm just a blogging fool today! Something else has come up that I needed to get a general opinion on from my 6 readers.

This might be going back to my mother's "ideas" but growing up my mother always told me that the easiest way to peel an orange was to briskly roll the orange on a flat surface - something about it loosening the rind from the orange or something. So this is what I've done my entire life. I get an orange, orange gets "rolled", orange gets peeled, orange gets eaten.

For the past three days I've brought in an orange to work and when I'm ready to eat it, I stroll over to the kitchen area to peel it. For three days straight, whom ever was in the kitchen at the time has questioned my orange rolling method.

"Are you trying to squash it?"

"Are you making juice?"

"Playing with your food, huh?"

"If you don't want it, I'll eat it."

Today's question was a very basic, "Why are you rolling it?" At the time, I didn't really know how to respond so I just shrugged with a basic, "I dunno. It's how I've always done it." Of course the minute I got back to my computer I had to look it up. Surely I wasn't the only person on the face of the planet that rolls their orange prior to peeling it.

Yeah, I'm pretty close to being the only one on the planet that rolls their oranges if the internet has anything to say about it.

The only mention I found was here on the London Times.

I'm starting to wonder if my mother's "ideas" are loosely based on a previously unnoticed anglophile notion.

7 Random Musings for your enjoyment

This is going to be a random post - just getting that statement out of the way in case you had some sort of hope for a cohesive, well thought out entry. Then again, you’re reading my blog; I already know your expectations are low.

RANDOM MUSING #1: HR just passed out Clorox Disinfecting Wipes to everyone. Best comment overheard: “So we’re expected to clean the entire building then? What happened to the late night cleaning crew? Were they eating by wolves?”

RANDOM MUSING #2: Andy has decided to start his own blog. It’s his first blog from what I can tell and his entries so far are, well, what you would expect from Andy. Please go and visit his blog and make lots of comments so I’m not the only one in the ‘Recent Comments’ section.

RANDOM MUSING #3: I’m pretty sure that the whole 6 of you who read this blog are aware that Andy and I are getting married on January 10th. In an effort not to look like a pork belly sandwich in photos that I’m sure I’ll be passing out and looking at for many years to come, I’ve been trying to lose some poundage before the event. I recognize the fact that I’m not going to lose the 50 pounds I wish I could lose in two months, but I was hoping for 10 maybe, or 15 if I really really work at it. Last week, after busting my ass at the gym and getting myself familiarized with vegetables again I managed to lose… a half of a pound. HALF of a pound. There’s like a little Indian man in my body smirking, “Thank you, come again.”

RANDOM MUSING #4: I hate the gym.

RANDOM MUSING #5: Andy and I are headed to England for 3 weeks in December. While I’m incredibly excited to go, I’m already getting nervous about the 13-14 hour flight there as I’m still quite terrified of flying. While most people have fantasies of a sexual nature, two nights ago I was laying in bed fantasying about how awesome it would be if I was able to fall asleep during the New Jersey to Manchester lag. Seriously. I was thinking about what kind of pillow I’d have and wouldn’t it be cool if there was an empty seat I could stretch out on, and debating whether or not I could have Andy wake me up in 3 hour intervals to take another Xanax, etc. etc. I got all giddy with the thought that I could fall asleep over Canada and not wake up until we were over Ireland. All this, of course, is a fantasy…just like Johnny Deep is never going to be knocking at your door…and I am sure I will be wide awake for the entire 14 hours hoping and praying that the pilots didn’t knock a few cocktails back that afternoon and that the engines decide to not only stay attached, but also continue to do their engine things…OH, and those damn birds and their damn strikes! AHHHHH!

RANDOM MUSING #6: I hate flying.

RANDOM MUSING #7: Andy’s birthday is tomorrow, so if you haven’t already, go to his blog and flood his comments with birthday wishes. He’ll love that.

Get my humor dammit!

So I posted this on Facebook and didn't get one bit of response on it. Obviously no one bothered to open it up bigger or else I would have gotten plenty of LOL's. Or perhaps I'm just easily amused.



LOL DAMMIT!

Cuppa

I was over reading WNP this morning when I got to an entry about tea. It was a great entry and I was a little put off that I couldn’t comment on it as the entry is old and the comment section are closed for it. An epiphany happened as I realized that I have my own damn blog in which I can write as many comments as I damn well felt like. So here I am ready to tell you all about ME (it’s all about ME in this here blog) and tea. I can sense your enthusiasm already. Of course, I do run the risk of you all heading your ass over to WNP and reading her entry about tea and having yourself a big ole “blog entry about tea” comparison in which I lose miserably as I don’t write nearly enough anymore and she’s all cool and foreign and shit and I’m not. Again, stop with the enthusiasm, it’s practically deafening.

SO YES! Tea…

I will begin this tale by letting you know that growing up in the quiet suburbs of Wisconsin, my mother would make me tea and toast whenever I was ill with fever. Seeing my mother slide into my room with that little white cup meant only one thing – it was ‘Price is Right’ and ‘Love Connection’ all morning baby, with a splash of Nickelodeon and crap cartoons in the afternoon. My mother always made Lipton tea with milk and honey and while plopping it down in front me would announce, “This is the way the English drink it!” I love my mother, but my mother gets “ideas”, if you know what I mean.

I didn’t know about my mother’s “ideas” back then. Like most children under the age of 10, I tended to take anything my parents said as the Absolute Truth. It’s was only at age 34, when I made my first cup of tea for my English boyfriend asking him very politely if he’d like it with milk and honey like “the English drink it” that I realized that some of my mother’s “ideas” might have gone amiss. And here I thought I had my tea follies eradicated by never referring to Lipton as “real tea”. I know better now.

I drink tea a lot, though probably more so than ever before considering Andy’s influence in my life. We drink PG Tips tea mostly, and I still take mine with milk and sugar (honey when I’m sick, some things never die). What I like about living with Andy in regards to tea is that he finds it impossible to turn down the offer of a cuppa. “It’s in my blood, I can’t refuse!” he will exclaim. It’s true. He could have just opened a beer and I’ll say, “Care for a cuppa?” and he’ll dutifully respond, “Oh, go on then.” Or he’ll be ready to go to bed, “Oh, go on then.” Late for work…”Oh, go on then.” Herd of elephants about to attack…”Oh, go on then.” What I find incredibly funny, besides his inability to refuse, is that he rarely actually DRINKS the tea. He’ll have a couple sips but more often than not, the tea will sit there over half full getting stronger in taste and colder by touch. It’s almost as though he just likes the IDEA of the cuppa sitting there. Funny Brit.

In regards to WNP, I would have to agree, there is nothing better than a cuppa with a Digestive or chocolate Hob Nob. I’d elaborate, but she said it a lot better than me.

All this talk has made me want a cup. Hey Andy, care for a cuppa?

Short but sweet memory from the Moe file

Short but sweet: A memory from the Moe file

Sometime in 2000-2001, I went to visit Buxy up in Portland.  One of the days that I was there, Buxy, Staley, and I drove up to Mt. Hood to, you know, go somewhere high up to look at stuff.  I believe Buxy had his Need A Walker It's So Old Volvo at the time, which was a manual, and on the way down the mountain decided to put the Volvo in neutral to see how far we could go without stepping on the gas.  We made it quite a few miles with little effort this way but it started getting to the point where there were uphill bits and much as there were downhill bits.  On an uphill bit, the three of us would start pleading with the Volvo to roll a little bit faster, rubbing the dash of the Volvo to spur it to No Gas Greatness, making bets between ourselves if this indeed was the last hill.  I think all and all we made it 5 some miles in this manner and had a big collective sigh when the Volvo finally found its way back into gear. 

And that is a short but sweet memory from the Moe file.

The curious case of the grumpy Monday

I'm grumpy today.  It's not a PMS grumpy, it's a general Monday grumpy that appears to be highly intensified by...well, I don't know.  All I know is that it can't be humanly possible that everyone in Southern California is lost and driving in front of me.  Or has a brand new car that apparently did not come with a gas pedal that is unable to exceed 25 miles per hour.  And I know it can't be possible that every single person that has our software is unable to navigate the computer past the Start button.  It's just not possible.  For this reason I can only ascertain that I am grump-tastic.

At lunch today I actually said to the very new cashier girl at Daphne's in response to the question, "Would you like the plate lunch?"

"Um, yeah."  -and not "um, yeah" in that indecisive sort of way, "um, yeah" in that horrible sarcastic way.

I'm not this person!  I've worked in the service industry for the first half of my working life.  I'm nice to cashiers and wait staff and bartenders!   "Um, yeah" is not part of my regular vocabulary!

I hate being grumpy.  The worst thing about being grumpy is knowing full well that you are grumpy and have no control over it.   It's that look people give you when you've been particularly grumpy: 

"Oh, you're grumpy" or, if they don't know you, "Oh, what a bitch."

I'm going to go sulk now.   Sulking is the bastard love child of grumpy. 

Clink Here

I normally don't like to talk about work, but this humors me and I have to share. I pre-apologize to all the non-technical people who may be reading this.

In my lifetime, I've worked at a bunch of software companies. While the software itself might be different at these different companies, and the bosses are different, and the atmosphere is different, one thing remains a constant at all software companies - unhelpful developers. Developers who have no time for support requests. Developers who roll their eyes at any mention that there might be an issue with something they've created. It's annoying and it's frustrating.

With that said, I will wholeheartedly admit that at my current company there is one developer who is not like this. I'll call him Fred for the sake of anonymity. Fred is great. Fred is helpful. If you report a problem, he attacks it like a ninja. If he can't reproduce the problem he offers (OFFERS!) to do a Webex with the customer to see the problem. He gets patches out quickly and he always has loads of suggestions if we come to him for a basic problem we can't figure out. I have loads of respect for Fred so when I relate the following story, it's not because I think Fred is a dunce. I think Fred just happened to be having a very off day.

Oh, and Fred is Asian. This wouldn't matter except that he is unable to say the word "click".

So Fred and I had a Webex with a customer today to go over an issue that Fred has so far been unable to reproduce. The issue is that the customer would like to click on link #1 to open a document as a TIF and click on link #2 to open the same document as a PDF file. This is important, and again, I apologize non-technical people.

We get the Webex going and the customer brings up the web page with the two links. These are the following instructions, given by Fred to the customer:

FRED: OK, clink the first one. What does it do?
CUSTOMER: (clicks) It opens the document as a TIF.
FRED: OK, clink the second one, what does it do?
CUSTOMER: (clicks) It opens the document in Word. It should open as a PDF.
FRED: OK, clink the first one. What does it do?
ME: Fred, it opens it as a TIF. The first one always opens as a TIF. The 2nd one always as a Word document.
FRED: OK, clink the second one, what does it do?
ME: It opens as a Word document.
FRED: Can he clink it?
CUSTOMER: (clicks) Word document
FRED: What about the 2nd one?
CUSTOMER: We just did that one.
FRED: Can you clink it?
CUSTOMER: (clicks) Word document.
FRED: Oh, I see. Can you clink the first one?
ME: Fred, no....see? First link, TIF. Second link, Word.
FRED: Oh, that's right. Can he clink the second one?
ME: Would you like to take control of the mouse?
FRED: No. Can he clink it?
ME: Which one? The one that opens as a TIF or the one that opens as a Word document?
FRED: The first one. Have him clink it.
CUSTOMER: (clicks) It's the TIF.
FRED: Oh, I see. Can he clink...
ME: (interrupting) I think I understand. Thank you customer. I will explain to Fred and get back to you.

Clink you very much.

ShakeOut Day or Why I would be dead if this wasn't a drill

From the 12 page pamphlet left on my office chair this morning, I learned that it was The Great California ShakeOut Day. Actually, I didn't really learn that, since anything HR leaves on my chair I quickly place in my filing rack without bothering to read it. OK, I glance on Things HR Leaves On My Chair to make sure that it doesn't say anything like, "Surprise! Free day off with pay tomorrow!" or "Bagels in the kitchen!" Everything else gets Filed Without Reading.

I have to say, if you ever do stop by my cube one day, feel free to peruse such fascinating reads as:

• How to use the fire extinguisher in 9 easy steps!


• "What's That Smell?" - A Guide to Gas


• Swine Flu and You: A comprehensive guide on how to wash your hands


• The terrorists won't win if you back up your hard drive!


• CPR - How to give life to your co-workers without having to kiss them

So yes, the ShakeOut. Earthquake Safety. After I was settled in this morning, one of my co-workers who is known to Take Things Seriously Only When He Has To, started playing the earthquake drill sound effects. Basically, a lot of rumbling and glass shattering and car alarms going off, that sort of thing. He played it at least 3 times at a loud volume, giggling to himself about it sounding like a herd of donkeys coming through. One of his buddies who Never Takes Things Seriously Even When He's Suppose To joined in the fun by manually shaking the cube walls, which I might mention are all attached and therefore I might have spilled soda on myself. I really wish I could say that these sort of Work Disturbances are rare, but they are not. There is a reason I leave headphones at my desk.

At 10:30 this morning, Mr. Only Take Things Seriously Only When He Has To once again played the earthquake drill sound effects. There was general shuffling in my work vicinity, but I figured it was just people shifting uncomfortably in their chairs having to listen to the fucking sound effects for the 4th time this morning. But no. 3 minutes later Mr. Never Takes Things Seriously Even When He's Suppose gets on the loud speaker to announce that we are in fact having an earthquake drill and he's sorry to say that everyone who is left in the building is technically dead. The 8 of us who were left at our desks decide to go outside with the others as we Don't Want to Get Singled Out By Our Bosses. It was time for a cigarette anyhow, since I'm dead already, it doesn't really matter now does it?

Don't worry, Daddy will get you some applesauce and soon as he unearths Mommy from under the refrigerator.

Just for shits and grins, here is a map of the recent earthquakes in Southern California: http://quake.usgs.gov/recenteqs/Maps/118-34.html

Now if you'll excuse me, I think I smell bagels. It might be gas though, hard to tell without reading the pamphlet.

I can see your cod piece from here!

By a stroke of per luck, I was able to see Eddie Izzard perform last night at a very small venue, only 4 rows back from the stage.  

By all accounts, the night wasn't going well from the start.  I had popped into the Harp to give Kevin my camera for the show.  He had bought two tickets earlier with the intent on bringing a date.  His date couldn't make it and to make matters worse, he got pulled over and given a ticket for driving while talking on cell phone.  The call, of course, was the one I had placed to him asking him if he wanted me to drop off the camera.   He had decided that fate was against him at this point and was thinking about not going at all.  With several pushes from the Harp peanut gallery, he changed his mind and also asked if I wanted to go with...with the precursor that I drive.   Hell yeah, I'll drive.

Kevin had brought this show up to me earlier that day.  It was a benefit show held at the EchoPlex for $25.  It wasn't even advertised except for on the benefit's web page.   I had asked Andy if he was interested, but he was working late so I didn't bother to pursue it further, especially since we're seeing him in January.

So Kevin and I take off around 6:00 PM with the knowledge that the show starts at 7.   The EchoPlex is only technically 40 miles away, but it's Los Angeles, it's rush hour, and it's raining.   Los Angelians may know how to scorn a fashion mishap three blocks away but they do not know how to drive in the rain.  As 6 PM turns into 7 PM and we are still sitting in the parking lot known as the I-5, we wonder if we'll make it at all.   We call 5 people locally trying to find our traffic fate on sigalert.com but can't reach anyone.  Actually, the one person that we did reach was also on the I-5 north of us and stated that he hadn't moved more than 3 miles in the last hour.   Oh dear.

We finally reach the venue at 10 minutes to 8 PM.  My bladder is seconds away from bursting.  There's no parking so I fork out $8 for the valet.  The storm decided to close up to downpour just as we step out of the car and we get drenched.  I run to the bathroom where there is no toilet paper and afterward buy myself a $8.00 beer that comes in a Dixie cup.  

I'm a bit frustrated so I tell Kevin to wait by the side of the stage while I go out and have a cigarette.  There's a Brazilian woman outside who commends me for not being afraid of the rain and I start to feel better.  Better yet, the show doesn't even start until the minute I get back inside.   Best yet, one of the bouncers tapped us and told us to go sit in the 4th row (middle) because the seats are reserved but the people didn't show up and they didn't want empty sections.   Score!

Eddie Izzard was of course, brilliant.  He was not in drag though it was suggested that he might have been wearing a cod piece.  Either that or he had a large furry weasel down his pants.  Hard to tell.  All I know is even though I had to sit in traffic for 2 hours, got completely soaked, was starving from missing dinner, and spent money that I couldn't afford to spend, I'm grateful I got to see him at such a small venue. 

Vote for the Badger, you know you want to.

I know you've been sitting there thinking to yourself, "Gee, what can I do to help beautify the rusted automobiles of Wisconsin?"

I'm here to help.  Everyone, please vote for the badger.  I mean, you can vote another way, but the badger is just so awesome.  It would be a shame not to.

http://www.jsonline.com/polls/63708472.html

I love how the badger on the plate is just sitting there on his hind legs with a deep stream of consciousness residing behind his beady black eyes, "I hope they don't notice I'm sitting on a knife."

To be on a quest is nothing more or less than to become an asker of questions.

To continue on from last week, here is the next set of questions posted by my devoted followers (all 4 of you, but you are the best four followers a blogger could ever ask for!).

Beth continues on to ask:

If you could have a super power, what would it be?

The very boring answer to this would be flying.  I like the idea that if I felt like going to a pub in Hungary on a Friday night, I could fly myself and be there in 20 minutes.  This is under the assumption that I could fly really fast like Superman and not slow like Batman who I don't even think can fly now that I think about it (stupid Batman!).   I suppose the trouble under that scenerio would be that I might be slightly drunk when I left the bar in Budapest and tried to fly home.  I'm sure I'd have trouble avoiding other flying objects at that point.   Not to mention, that while I was still at the pub and drinking my lager, I'm sure I'd start wanting to show off a little.

"You there!  Yeah, you're all cool with your ability to slug a beer with your hands behind your back, but I can fly.  No really, I can.  Want to bet?"

Of course I would win the bet but since I don't have superhuman strength whatever Hungarian brut who lost their money would be able to break my arms and legs, no problem.

Indian food or Mexican food?

Tough choice since I really love both.  If I would have to choose though, I'd say Mexican.  It doesn't give me the shits like Indian food does.

Why do you like your favorite TV show?

It's impossible to answer this as I could not tell you what my favorite TV show is.  As a TV whore, it's like asking the Taliban what they hate most about Americans.  It's impossible to narrow it down.

What is something you wish you had never done?

I can't say there is anything I wish I hadn't done as everything I've done, even the awful things, makes me who I am today.  A better question is what I wish I had done, which is fairly easy since I think about it a lot....when I was in Japan I saw this eye pillow in the shape of a fuzzy sheep.  It was cute and it smelled like fresh flowers.  I didn't buy it thinking that I could probably find something like it in the States and that I really couldn't afford buying "silly" things.   That was over 7 years ago and I'm still searching for that fucking sheep eye pillow.

What is your favorite guilty pleasure?

I'd say television but that would be a cop-out.  Truthfully, it's click-lit novels.   I'm too embarrassed to elaborate.

Why am I your bestest friend in the whole world?

Because I've known you since I was five and you continue to be awesome and never fish for compliments.  ;-)

Later this week we'll dive into the absurd as I answer Andy's submitted questions...

“I was gratified to be able to answer promptly. I said, "I don't know."”

A-ha! Thank you Andy and Bethhead for your questions! I feel as if I have a purpose again in writing. Actually, thank you Bethhead, your questions moved me. Andy, not so much.

From British man residing in California who may or may not be wearing the same t-shirt he had on yesterday: What are you talking about?

Thank you very much for your interest Mr. Teabagger. I have thought long and hard about exactly what it is that I am talking about and I have finally come to the conclusion that it must be about pastry. Thanks for writing in.

From a new mother residing in the frozen tundra of Wausau, WI we have a myriad of questions. I will post the first three for now.

Why is it that cats do not like to get wet and why do dogs smell like ass when they do?

Excellent question Beth! This is actually a two part question that would be best answered in song.

Since you cannot hear my most intriguing and philosophical song on the subject, I will just have to say, "They just do." Trust me, the song was much better.

When you move, what is something you will miss about the States?

I have never actually been to Australia before so I can't be an expert on what exactly I will miss, I can only assume from the things that I have read. Here is that list so far:

• Rabbits - unless I manage to grow a garden.
• Spiders that I can easily kill with a paper towel without hearing a squishing sound.
• 1/2 and 1/2 - Why Australia? Why? It's not like I'm going to have my own cow and dairy to make my own.
  
• Ranch dressing - This can't even be imported from the States as it's a dairy product. Perhaps getting my own cow and dairy isn't such a bad idea after all.
• Being able to call flip-flops flip-flops and not 'thongs'. -I guarantee that I will be giggling the first time that comes out of my mouth.

Things I wish I could un-see: Kylie Minogue on a giant thong

(Dammit)Why can't my kid take a nap longer than 30-45 min?

Because he isn't old enough to drink himself to a nap, nor is he going to work, the bum. I think at 3 months you should get him an application at McDonald's. It's never too early to teach financial responsibility.

More next week...

Failure

I completely take responsibility for the failure of my "write every day in September" claim.  I thought about things to write almost every day and every day my mind just went, "naaaaah."  Truthfully, it's been really hard to write lately.  There are so many things that my mind has been thinking about that it hasn't had time to dwell on the silly and frivolous things.  A bit of a shame really.  I miss my dancing lobsters and karate carrots.  I really do.

3 years ago I think I was going through the same thing.  It's the point where I was in Wisconsin for Beth's wedding and everyone was coming up to me asking what I've been up to and I didn't have anything to say.  It's the same sort of thing really.  I have so many big things happening in the upcoming year that my mind has been focused on them.  Of course, the upcoming things are just that..upcoming...so trying to sound interesting right now is a bit of a challenge.  I've been finding that when I'm not at work, or out at the pub, or somewhere equally enthralling, I'm either watching TV, reading a book, or doing some mundane task on Facebook just to turn my head off. 

Help me out here.  Give me some questions in the comments and I will answer them as best I can.  They don't have to be serious questions either (unless you prefer).  I'm hoping answering a direct question rather then spewing out some random shit from my overworked mind will get this blog (which has an awesome title, admit it) a kick.


:-p