Reminding me of another office prank...
I was working on this declassification project for a three letter agency. We were designing a system to scan in all classified documents 25 years or older (EO12958) and make them available to the public. This is the project where I met Rita.
I worked with the team that did the initial survey of the archives. We uncovered approximately 60 million pages of material that needed to be scanned, reviewed, tagged with key words, etc. Our project, it was clear, was woefully underfunded. So we were sitting in a room one day trying to figure out how to create a slide to show how much paper 60 million pages consisted of, with the idea of presenting it to congress to get more cash.
There were a bunch of dumb ideas floating around the table, when I sarcastically said "60 million pages has got to be as tall as the washington monument!" That ended up being our slide (60 million pages = about 27 washington monuments when stacked up). We got more money.
Then the gov got shut down because Clinton refused to sign a bill to keep the gov going because the bill had something in it he didn't like. We were out of work, unpaid, for 2 weeks. We didn't get back pay for those two weeks even though almost everyone on the team had worked through the shut down. Then there were staff cuts. Just when it seemed the morale of the team couldn't get any worse, some bureaucrat decided to give us all "awards". Normally an award is a slap on the ass, free lunch, and a check. This ass pipe instead gave us each a 6 inch replica of the washington monument, with one side having a thermometer glued to it.
Everyone was pissed we had worked so hard and not gotten money. One of the guys on the team, Gordon, turned to me after he was given his monument and said "stick this in my ass and take my temperature".
Instead, I thought it would be funny to glue the monument on the ceiling tile above Gordon's desk. I waited for two days, but he didn't notice it was missing, much less that it was now suspended above his head. So I started taking more stuff off of his desk and gluing it to the ceiling. I glued his stapler, scissors, staple remover, pencils, pens, paperclips and finally his coffee mug. He didn't notice.
Then, at 3 o'clock one morning, my manager got a call because the alarm in our SCIF had gone off. It was triggered by the motion detector. They went all through the SCIF but couldn't find anyone. So the SCIF was on high alert. It was a HUGE security deal. I rolled in around 7 am to find all this happening. Then Gordon came in, and moments after going into his office came out and said "You are in so much fucking trouble".
It turned out the washington monument had finally, due to its weight, detached from the ceiling tile. The tip of it was embedded in the soft wood of Gordon's desk. There was no doubt that the fall was what set off the alarm. He started screaming at me that it could have fallen on his head, and then looked up and saw everything else I had glued to the ceiling, and started yelling more. My manager came in at that point and got to see my little ceiling art project.
I received a security violation (the only one I've ever gotten), had to write a letter of apology to Gordon, and was yelled at by my manager for two solid hours. I wasn't worried about getting fired, as I was the only female engineer on the project, but I realized my life for the next few months would not be pleasant.
All glue was eventually banned from the SCIF because first Gordon launched a return attack by gluing my chair to the top of my desk, and then I glued a banana to his desk, and then one day when it snowed and I was working late he and another engineer completely buried my car in snow, so I glued the shovel I used to get my car out across Gordon's desk.
I miss that place. And that group of people.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
white elephant
Well, I've gotten no less than 10 complaints today about my sad Forest story, so here's one that's a little on the lighter side.
After September 11th I rotated back to the east coast from San Fran. I wasn't happy about it. I arrived in November and didn't even have a winter jacket.
To make matters worse, I ended up working with a three letter agency other than the one I was expecting to return to. My new employer was staffed with people that I quickly dubbed wall scrapers. They were all pasty white, and when I would walk down the halls they would mash themselves against the wall until I past. That agency employs mostly math and engineering types, all fucking socially retarded.
I was working in this grim little SCIF with a guy who had been fired from another company for trying to kill his manager with a copper head (that is a story for another time). Then this guy Bob started coming by to talk to me.
Bob was a retired coastie, a ginger kid, and a midget (sort of, he was 4'11"). But, he was really nice to me and invited me out to happy hours so I could meet people (though, they were all military types so nothing ever came of any of his attempts to play matchmaker). Bob was also an epic story teller, and if you could suspend the concept of truth his stories were amusing. At least the first 40 times he told them. The endings occasionally changed to give the story a new spin.
Anyway, his cousin, or some other relative like that, was supposedly married to the lead singer of Depeche Mode. And, it turned out, Depeche Mode was his favorite group ever. Because of this he had pictures of them all over his cube. One day he brought in a close up of what ever the lead singer's name is in to work. He said his cousin had sent it.
Around that time it was becoming the Christmas season. We were scheduled to have a white elephant party to celebrate (this was my employer's way of trying to make up for us having to work Christmas day - not that I personally cared). We had to buy a joke gift that was $10 or less, and then we were to pile them up and each person got to pick a gift.
So, I decided to buy a picture frame. Then, I stole Bob's Depeche Mode picture, put it in the frame, and wrapped it for the party. Bob was absolutely hysterical over the loss of his picture. For two weeks after I stole it I would find him going through people's drawers in the SCIF (a huge no no in that environment) trying to find his picture. I told him I thought that I had seen the janitor throwing it away. Then other people joined in on the joke, and we tortured him mercilessly, even causing him to one day move the big, disgusting refrigerator in the break room to see if it had fallen back there.
A week before the party I drew a stick figure picture of a guy playing the guitar, just like his Depeche Mode picture. I put it up in the same spot where the picture I had stolen had been. Then I went by his cube and was like "Oh, you found your picture". He started ranting and raving that he actually hadn't found his picture, and that he suspected someone was playing a joke. I squinted at the picture and said "are you sure that isn't the one you had?" He was like "THAT is a stick figure drawing. My picture was a PHOTO. Don't you remember?"
Other people stopped by his cube because he had posted a bunch of signs all over the SCIF demanding his picture be returned. They all said the drawing looked a lot like the picture he had lost, and couldn't he possibly be mistaken.
The day of the white elephant party I arranged with a woman that had just joined our project, Debbie, to pick my gift. She opened it up and was like "Oh, nice, a picture frame." When she turned it around to show to everyone Bob starting yelling "THAT'S MY DEPECHE MODE PICTURE!" Debbie was like "No Bob, that's just a picture that they put standard in all frames." His head was about to explode, and I couldn't take it anymore, so I started laughing. At first he was pissed at me, but then he laughed, and likely is still telling the story, only his version is probably even longer than mine.
After September 11th I rotated back to the east coast from San Fran. I wasn't happy about it. I arrived in November and didn't even have a winter jacket.
To make matters worse, I ended up working with a three letter agency other than the one I was expecting to return to. My new employer was staffed with people that I quickly dubbed wall scrapers. They were all pasty white, and when I would walk down the halls they would mash themselves against the wall until I past. That agency employs mostly math and engineering types, all fucking socially retarded.
I was working in this grim little SCIF with a guy who had been fired from another company for trying to kill his manager with a copper head (that is a story for another time). Then this guy Bob started coming by to talk to me.
Bob was a retired coastie, a ginger kid, and a midget (sort of, he was 4'11"). But, he was really nice to me and invited me out to happy hours so I could meet people (though, they were all military types so nothing ever came of any of his attempts to play matchmaker). Bob was also an epic story teller, and if you could suspend the concept of truth his stories were amusing. At least the first 40 times he told them. The endings occasionally changed to give the story a new spin.
Anyway, his cousin, or some other relative like that, was supposedly married to the lead singer of Depeche Mode. And, it turned out, Depeche Mode was his favorite group ever. Because of this he had pictures of them all over his cube. One day he brought in a close up of what ever the lead singer's name is in to work. He said his cousin had sent it.
Around that time it was becoming the Christmas season. We were scheduled to have a white elephant party to celebrate (this was my employer's way of trying to make up for us having to work Christmas day - not that I personally cared). We had to buy a joke gift that was $10 or less, and then we were to pile them up and each person got to pick a gift.
So, I decided to buy a picture frame. Then, I stole Bob's Depeche Mode picture, put it in the frame, and wrapped it for the party. Bob was absolutely hysterical over the loss of his picture. For two weeks after I stole it I would find him going through people's drawers in the SCIF (a huge no no in that environment) trying to find his picture. I told him I thought that I had seen the janitor throwing it away. Then other people joined in on the joke, and we tortured him mercilessly, even causing him to one day move the big, disgusting refrigerator in the break room to see if it had fallen back there.
A week before the party I drew a stick figure picture of a guy playing the guitar, just like his Depeche Mode picture. I put it up in the same spot where the picture I had stolen had been. Then I went by his cube and was like "Oh, you found your picture". He started ranting and raving that he actually hadn't found his picture, and that he suspected someone was playing a joke. I squinted at the picture and said "are you sure that isn't the one you had?" He was like "THAT is a stick figure drawing. My picture was a PHOTO. Don't you remember?"
Other people stopped by his cube because he had posted a bunch of signs all over the SCIF demanding his picture be returned. They all said the drawing looked a lot like the picture he had lost, and couldn't he possibly be mistaken.
The day of the white elephant party I arranged with a woman that had just joined our project, Debbie, to pick my gift. She opened it up and was like "Oh, nice, a picture frame." When she turned it around to show to everyone Bob starting yelling "THAT'S MY DEPECHE MODE PICTURE!" Debbie was like "No Bob, that's just a picture that they put standard in all frames." His head was about to explode, and I couldn't take it anymore, so I started laughing. At first he was pissed at me, but then he laughed, and likely is still telling the story, only his version is probably even longer than mine.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
why I don't have a dog
Shortly after I moved into my house, I became friends with my neighbor. I didn't know at the time that he was insane.
He had a dog, named Forest, a boerboel who weighed about 140 lbs. So, not a small dog. Since my neighbor was pretty sedentary, and more likely to smoke pot than walk his dog, I started taking Forest out with me when I went on my walks. My favorite thing he did on one of our walks was either the time he unleashed a huge stream of drool on the cheeseburger of a girl who was petting him, or the time he decided to stop in the middle of crossing Broadway, a major street with 6 lanes, to drop a deuce.
After a while my neighbor started leaving Forest at my house when he went on travel. We would
get up early in the morning to go for walks, and then do the same when I got home from work. Then we would lay on the floor, because at the time I didn't own a couch, and watch movies. He would always try to climb into bed with me when I went to sleep, and I would never let him because I'm allergic to dogs. But it seemed like every morning I would wake up and find him laying next to me, drooling on my head and farting. Also, I would find dog snot all over the house from when he sneezed. I admit I spoiled him. After a while when my neighbor would come home he would have to physically pull Forest out of my house because Forest wanted to stay with me.
When ever Forest, my neighbor, and I went out together he would never put Forest on a leash. I always kept him on a leash though. One day, for fuck knows what reason, I decided to take him up to a park in Boulder to do a hike. By this time Forest was in great shape because we were walking about 6 miles a day in the city. My neighbor was in Arizona getting drunk and watching football.
The hike went great, except that Forest was getting a little freaked out because I had him on a leash and everyone else was letting their dogs run free, even though there were signs all over the park to keep them on a leash. Dogs get a thing called leash aggression when they are leashed and other dogs aren't. It's caused by them feeling vulnerable to the other dogs since they are on a leash and the other dogs aren't. I know that now.
As we were walking down this wide fire road, less than a quarter mile from my car, a family was approaching in the other direction. They had a german shepard, unleashed, and two kids, one 6 and the other 11. The 6 year old was obviously tired and throwing a temper tantrum. He threw himself on the ground and refused to get up. His dad tried to pick him up, and he did that thing kids do where they fold up their legs and refuse to stand up. The dad let go of the kid and he fell on the ground again, screaming and crying.
I was about 10 feet away from them, and had Forest pretty tight on the leash because of their dog. I was standing between Forest and the family because I was worried about their dog. As we walked by the mom said "Oh, look at the dog" and called Forest over to her. I guess she was trying to distract her kid from crying.
The next thing I knew I was on my knees and Forest was dragging me across the fire road. I tried to stop him but I couldn't. Boerboels are very strong, and can pull 1,500 lbs easily. Since I weigh about 120 lbs I didn't stand a chance.
He grabbed the kid by the shoulder and pinned him down on the ground. The parents were yelling but didn't do anything. As luck would have it, the day before I had been talking to Jen, the ex lesbian, about dog bites (her dog had just bitten someone at a party) and she told me that if you grab a dog's nose and twist it they'll let go. So I did that and Forest let go of the kid. The whole incident happened in less than 30 seconds.
The mom picked the kid up and at first said he didn't need to go to the hospital. Then a female ranger came out (the ranger hut was just across from where the incident happened) and they started yelling at me. Forest was hiding behind my legs and shaking because he was afraid. Then random people coming down the fire road started coming up and screaming at me for not controlling my dog, even though every fucking one of them had their dogs unleashed.
They ended up calling an ambulance to take the kid to St. Joseph's children's hospital. He required three stitches, and Forest had broken his collar bone. A male ranger came out as a mob descended on me and walked me back to my car.
As I drove home I called my neighbor. He sent me on a wild goose chase going to almost every vet in Denver trying to find Forest's shot records. It turns out he hadn't gotten a recent rabies vaccination. I was like great. I called the ranger every couple of hours to find out how the kid was, and to ask if I could call the parents. She told me she couldn't give me their contact information because they requested I not contact them.
I called the breeder from whom my neighbor had bought Forest. He was as surprised as I was when I told him what happened. He hypothesized that Forest was already on edge from leash aggression. He saw the little kid laying on the ground crying as some kind of threat. That's why he tried to pin the kid to the ground.
When my neighbor called later the ranger gave him the family's contact information and he called them. Because I didn't own Forest I could have washed my hands of the incident but I didn't. I went to every court meeting, and every meeting with the rangers. I paid to have Forest put to sleep and cremated. I agreed to split the cost of the law suit that soon showed up.
In court I was eviscerated. "Witnesses" who were no where near us when the incident happened said that the attack lasted at least 15 minutes. The mom said that Forest dragged her son 1/2 mile down the fire road. I think the parents were upset that they had done nothing to help their son so they were taking it out on me. They said the whole family needed therapy to get over the incident. I couldn't help but think that if a fucking dog bite sent them into such a tail spin they could never survive the real world. The mom also said I never called the family to see how the kid was doing, an utter and outright lie. It was also the worst lie for me because everything else she had said to that point, I could chalk up to adrenaline and mis-remembering things. But to say I didn't care about her kid? I wanted to kick her in the fucking cunt for that.
The male ranger spoke on my behalf and said that I was the most cooperative person they had ever dealt with. He said that I could have left the scene (which is true) but I didn't. And I found out, doing research, that the park where the attack happened has one of the largest number of dog biting incidents in the entire country. Probably because none of the fucks who live in Boulder leash their dogs.
To which I would also add, of all the places I've lived, Colorado has the worst behaved dogs and dog owners. In the past year, I've been to three parties (and I don't go to many parties anymore) where a dog bit someone.
It took two years, but the law suit was settled. My neighbor not only doesn't speak to me - he does shit things. He used to have his friends call my land line at all hours of the night and say things to me like they were going to come over to my house and rape me. He tried to have my now ex-boyfriend's truck towed, saying it was an abandoned vehicle. He did that three times in one week. He pulled my hummingbird feeder off a branch of his tree that hangs over my yard, broke it to pieces, and threw it on my patio. He smashed the hood of housepest1.0's car and ripped the Honda logo off of it. Let all the air out of the tires of my car when I had parked it in front of my house. Among other things...
I still have nightmares about Forest biting the kid. For months after I played the incident over and over in my mind, wondering what I could have done to prevent it. And I remember driving Forest home after. He was sitting in the back seat and he put his head on my shoulder and refused to move it even if I tried to shove him back. When we got home he wouldn't leave my side and would run after me if I broke contact with him.
I had to drive him to a shelter the day after he bit the kid, where they quarantined him to make sure he didn't have rabies. When we were driving there I think he knew. He put his head and front paws in my lap the whole ride there, which he had never done before when we were driving around.
The night before he was put to sleep I went over to my neighbor's house to hang out with Forest one last time. He crawled into my lap (as much as he would fit into my lap, anyway) and stayed there until I left. I finally left because I couldn't stop crying. It wasn't just because Forest was going to get put to sleep. It was the whole shit situation.
Oddly enough, the kid that got bitten was also named Frankie.
I was advised by my insurance company, who settled the lawsuit, not to get a dog. I have a cactus instead. His name is Gunter. He hasn't bitten anyone. Yet.
He had a dog, named Forest, a boerboel who weighed about 140 lbs. So, not a small dog. Since my neighbor was pretty sedentary, and more likely to smoke pot than walk his dog, I started taking Forest out with me when I went on my walks. My favorite thing he did on one of our walks was either the time he unleashed a huge stream of drool on the cheeseburger of a girl who was petting him, or the time he decided to stop in the middle of crossing Broadway, a major street with 6 lanes, to drop a deuce.After a while my neighbor started leaving Forest at my house when he went on travel. We would
get up early in the morning to go for walks, and then do the same when I got home from work. Then we would lay on the floor, because at the time I didn't own a couch, and watch movies. He would always try to climb into bed with me when I went to sleep, and I would never let him because I'm allergic to dogs. But it seemed like every morning I would wake up and find him laying next to me, drooling on my head and farting. Also, I would find dog snot all over the house from when he sneezed. I admit I spoiled him. After a while when my neighbor would come home he would have to physically pull Forest out of my house because Forest wanted to stay with me.When ever Forest, my neighbor, and I went out together he would never put Forest on a leash. I always kept him on a leash though. One day, for fuck knows what reason, I decided to take him up to a park in Boulder to do a hike. By this time Forest was in great shape because we were walking about 6 miles a day in the city. My neighbor was in Arizona getting drunk and watching football.
The hike went great, except that Forest was getting a little freaked out because I had him on a leash and everyone else was letting their dogs run free, even though there were signs all over the park to keep them on a leash. Dogs get a thing called leash aggression when they are leashed and other dogs aren't. It's caused by them feeling vulnerable to the other dogs since they are on a leash and the other dogs aren't. I know that now.
As we were walking down this wide fire road, less than a quarter mile from my car, a family was approaching in the other direction. They had a german shepard, unleashed, and two kids, one 6 and the other 11. The 6 year old was obviously tired and throwing a temper tantrum. He threw himself on the ground and refused to get up. His dad tried to pick him up, and he did that thing kids do where they fold up their legs and refuse to stand up. The dad let go of the kid and he fell on the ground again, screaming and crying.
I was about 10 feet away from them, and had Forest pretty tight on the leash because of their dog. I was standing between Forest and the family because I was worried about their dog. As we walked by the mom said "Oh, look at the dog" and called Forest over to her. I guess she was trying to distract her kid from crying.
The next thing I knew I was on my knees and Forest was dragging me across the fire road. I tried to stop him but I couldn't. Boerboels are very strong, and can pull 1,500 lbs easily. Since I weigh about 120 lbs I didn't stand a chance.
He grabbed the kid by the shoulder and pinned him down on the ground. The parents were yelling but didn't do anything. As luck would have it, the day before I had been talking to Jen, the ex lesbian, about dog bites (her dog had just bitten someone at a party) and she told me that if you grab a dog's nose and twist it they'll let go. So I did that and Forest let go of the kid. The whole incident happened in less than 30 seconds.
The mom picked the kid up and at first said he didn't need to go to the hospital. Then a female ranger came out (the ranger hut was just across from where the incident happened) and they started yelling at me. Forest was hiding behind my legs and shaking because he was afraid. Then random people coming down the fire road started coming up and screaming at me for not controlling my dog, even though every fucking one of them had their dogs unleashed.
They ended up calling an ambulance to take the kid to St. Joseph's children's hospital. He required three stitches, and Forest had broken his collar bone. A male ranger came out as a mob descended on me and walked me back to my car.
As I drove home I called my neighbor. He sent me on a wild goose chase going to almost every vet in Denver trying to find Forest's shot records. It turns out he hadn't gotten a recent rabies vaccination. I was like great. I called the ranger every couple of hours to find out how the kid was, and to ask if I could call the parents. She told me she couldn't give me their contact information because they requested I not contact them.
I called the breeder from whom my neighbor had bought Forest. He was as surprised as I was when I told him what happened. He hypothesized that Forest was already on edge from leash aggression. He saw the little kid laying on the ground crying as some kind of threat. That's why he tried to pin the kid to the ground.
When my neighbor called later the ranger gave him the family's contact information and he called them. Because I didn't own Forest I could have washed my hands of the incident but I didn't. I went to every court meeting, and every meeting with the rangers. I paid to have Forest put to sleep and cremated. I agreed to split the cost of the law suit that soon showed up.
In court I was eviscerated. "Witnesses" who were no where near us when the incident happened said that the attack lasted at least 15 minutes. The mom said that Forest dragged her son 1/2 mile down the fire road. I think the parents were upset that they had done nothing to help their son so they were taking it out on me. They said the whole family needed therapy to get over the incident. I couldn't help but think that if a fucking dog bite sent them into such a tail spin they could never survive the real world. The mom also said I never called the family to see how the kid was doing, an utter and outright lie. It was also the worst lie for me because everything else she had said to that point, I could chalk up to adrenaline and mis-remembering things. But to say I didn't care about her kid? I wanted to kick her in the fucking cunt for that.
The male ranger spoke on my behalf and said that I was the most cooperative person they had ever dealt with. He said that I could have left the scene (which is true) but I didn't. And I found out, doing research, that the park where the attack happened has one of the largest number of dog biting incidents in the entire country. Probably because none of the fucks who live in Boulder leash their dogs.
To which I would also add, of all the places I've lived, Colorado has the worst behaved dogs and dog owners. In the past year, I've been to three parties (and I don't go to many parties anymore) where a dog bit someone.
It took two years, but the law suit was settled. My neighbor not only doesn't speak to me - he does shit things. He used to have his friends call my land line at all hours of the night and say things to me like they were going to come over to my house and rape me. He tried to have my now ex-boyfriend's truck towed, saying it was an abandoned vehicle. He did that three times in one week. He pulled my hummingbird feeder off a branch of his tree that hangs over my yard, broke it to pieces, and threw it on my patio. He smashed the hood of housepest1.0's car and ripped the Honda logo off of it. Let all the air out of the tires of my car when I had parked it in front of my house. Among other things...
I still have nightmares about Forest biting the kid. For months after I played the incident over and over in my mind, wondering what I could have done to prevent it. And I remember driving Forest home after. He was sitting in the back seat and he put his head on my shoulder and refused to move it even if I tried to shove him back. When we got home he wouldn't leave my side and would run after me if I broke contact with him.
I had to drive him to a shelter the day after he bit the kid, where they quarantined him to make sure he didn't have rabies. When we were driving there I think he knew. He put his head and front paws in my lap the whole ride there, which he had never done before when we were driving around.
The night before he was put to sleep I went over to my neighbor's house to hang out with Forest one last time. He crawled into my lap (as much as he would fit into my lap, anyway) and stayed there until I left. I finally left because I couldn't stop crying. It wasn't just because Forest was going to get put to sleep. It was the whole shit situation.
Oddly enough, the kid that got bitten was also named Frankie.
I was advised by my insurance company, who settled the lawsuit, not to get a dog. I have a cactus instead. His name is Gunter. He hasn't bitten anyone. Yet.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Kandy S, better rehire your lawyer
This total cunt knocking twat of a human being hit Jake 2 October 2008. At the scene of the accident she gave me her insurance card. It wasn't until I got home and contacted my insurance company that I found out she didn't have insurance.
A month later I was contacted by my insurance company because Kandy had hired a lawyer who contacted them. They told to get an estimate on fixing Jake. I was on the road so I asked my house pest 1.0 to make my car available to the agent. The stupid fuck nut left my car parked in a zone where they ticket, even though I reminded him to move my car, so I ended up getting a $25 parking ticket. HP1.0 said he would pay it, but didn't, so the cost of the ticket ended up being $40, with a late fee, that I had to pay.
The cost to fix Jake was $500.03. I sent the estimate in to the lawyer, as requested via a letter he sent me. I should have known, after calling them 5 times to make sure they got my paperwork, that things were not going to go smoothly. I got another letter saying I needed to get the car fixed, and show the bill as paid, before the matter could be considered further. I got Jake fixed and sent the bill to the lawyer.
Then...nothing.
So I called my insurance company back to see if they could do something to help me. No, they said, because I didn't file a claim with them, because the cost of the repair was equal to my deductible. Because Kandy had not done enough damage to my car, I was basically on my own instead of having an insurance lawyer following up on the accident.
So I started a phone call campaign to the lawyer's office. I called every day, assuring them that I would continue to call until the lawyer talked to me. He finally took my call, after 3 weeks, and said he was contacting Kandy, and would let me know in a few days what was happening.
I waited. A week went by. No word from the shit bag lawyer.
I guess shit bag and lawyer are redundant terms so I could have just said lawyer.
I called again. This time the receptionist told me that the lawyer was out of town. She couldn't tell me when he'd be back. The next day I got a letter from his office saying he no longer represented Kandy.
I was livid. I called the office and asked for her home address and contact information. They wouldn't give it to me. I researched her on line and found out that, although there was no address listed, she had an account on linkedin. I contacted the place where she said she worked on linkedin and they said no one by that name worked there. I'm not sure if they were lying or not, but I decided I was going to track Kandy down if I had to hire a professional investigator.
I paid $4 to have a search run on her on ussearch.com. The results were shit. I knew they knew she had an address in Denver, but it wasn't listed on the report they sent me. When I inquired how to get the Denver address they said I would have to pay additional money ($20) to do a further search. I was like I don't think so fucko. So I sent them an email saying I wanted my money back. They refused to refund it, so I called them on the Denver bullshit. I've been wrangling with customer service for a week. I got an email from them today with her Denver address without having had to pay additional money.
Further, I've requested a copy of the accident report from Denver PD. The bitch is going down. I've researched how to sue her in small claims court, which I am going to do as soon as I get the accident report. A sheriff will soon be knocking on her door to serve her papers.
The reason I am so pissed is that she hit my car, then lied to me about her insurance, then sent me on a wild goose chase with the lawyer, and has had no repercussions for her actions. If she had been honest with me at the scene of the accident, or contacted me to explain why she wasn't going to pay for my car, honestly, I would have written it off. But now, no. I don't even care if I don't recoup a dime from her. At least I will know that my judgement is sitting on her credit report for at least the next 7 years. Every time she tries to do anything that has to do with money, she's going to think of me. Fucking cunt.
And if I do get my money back, I'm going to donate it to a school fund that helps buy books for public schools, on the off chance that the reason Kandy is such an irresponsible, stupid lying asshole of a human being is that public education failed her.
The moral of the story is never piss off a jew. We're vengeful.
A month later I was contacted by my insurance company because Kandy had hired a lawyer who contacted them. They told to get an estimate on fixing Jake. I was on the road so I asked my house pest 1.0 to make my car available to the agent. The stupid fuck nut left my car parked in a zone where they ticket, even though I reminded him to move my car, so I ended up getting a $25 parking ticket. HP1.0 said he would pay it, but didn't, so the cost of the ticket ended up being $40, with a late fee, that I had to pay.
The cost to fix Jake was $500.03. I sent the estimate in to the lawyer, as requested via a letter he sent me. I should have known, after calling them 5 times to make sure they got my paperwork, that things were not going to go smoothly. I got another letter saying I needed to get the car fixed, and show the bill as paid, before the matter could be considered further. I got Jake fixed and sent the bill to the lawyer.
Then...nothing.
So I called my insurance company back to see if they could do something to help me. No, they said, because I didn't file a claim with them, because the cost of the repair was equal to my deductible. Because Kandy had not done enough damage to my car, I was basically on my own instead of having an insurance lawyer following up on the accident.
So I started a phone call campaign to the lawyer's office. I called every day, assuring them that I would continue to call until the lawyer talked to me. He finally took my call, after 3 weeks, and said he was contacting Kandy, and would let me know in a few days what was happening.
I waited. A week went by. No word from the shit bag lawyer.
I guess shit bag and lawyer are redundant terms so I could have just said lawyer.
I called again. This time the receptionist told me that the lawyer was out of town. She couldn't tell me when he'd be back. The next day I got a letter from his office saying he no longer represented Kandy.
I was livid. I called the office and asked for her home address and contact information. They wouldn't give it to me. I researched her on line and found out that, although there was no address listed, she had an account on linkedin. I contacted the place where she said she worked on linkedin and they said no one by that name worked there. I'm not sure if they were lying or not, but I decided I was going to track Kandy down if I had to hire a professional investigator.
I paid $4 to have a search run on her on ussearch.com. The results were shit. I knew they knew she had an address in Denver, but it wasn't listed on the report they sent me. When I inquired how to get the Denver address they said I would have to pay additional money ($20) to do a further search. I was like I don't think so fucko. So I sent them an email saying I wanted my money back. They refused to refund it, so I called them on the Denver bullshit. I've been wrangling with customer service for a week. I got an email from them today with her Denver address without having had to pay additional money.
Further, I've requested a copy of the accident report from Denver PD. The bitch is going down. I've researched how to sue her in small claims court, which I am going to do as soon as I get the accident report. A sheriff will soon be knocking on her door to serve her papers.
The reason I am so pissed is that she hit my car, then lied to me about her insurance, then sent me on a wild goose chase with the lawyer, and has had no repercussions for her actions. If she had been honest with me at the scene of the accident, or contacted me to explain why she wasn't going to pay for my car, honestly, I would have written it off. But now, no. I don't even care if I don't recoup a dime from her. At least I will know that my judgement is sitting on her credit report for at least the next 7 years. Every time she tries to do anything that has to do with money, she's going to think of me. Fucking cunt.
And if I do get my money back, I'm going to donate it to a school fund that helps buy books for public schools, on the off chance that the reason Kandy is such an irresponsible, stupid lying asshole of a human being is that public education failed her.
The moral of the story is never piss off a jew. We're vengeful.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Hott Tomato
The story of what happened the night I got a concussion in St. Maarten...
After Rita and I had dinner at Mezzanotte's we headed back to our hotel. We were trying to figure out what bar we were going to go to. We were tired of the resort bars and we were also trying to avoid three Canadian guys, one of whom bit me on the head before cutting off one of my corn row braids. The other two guys were nice, but boring.
There was a close bar that we could have gone to, but our new friend Gus had been thrown out of it the evening before and we decided to never go there again. I can't remember what he did, but I think it involved taking his clothes off. Anyway, we decided the best course of action would be to find a bar that was far enough away that the Canadians couldn't find it and that there was little chance that Gus had been thrown out of it.
We went into the lobby and found the resort driver, a tall guy from Jamaica (I think he was about 6'4"). We had met him three days before when we were walking back to the hotel from Cupisco beach (about 3 miles from the hotel). As we were walking down the side of the road we saw a bus coming towards us, and then the bus turned around, and then pulled up next to us. A guy with dreds was yelling something but we couldn't hear him. I was like "Rita, do you think the bus guy is trying to kidnap us?" We were debating running when suddenly we recognized the bus driver as an employee of the resort. He gave us a ride back to the hotel and that's when we became friends with him, and he would drive us where ever we wanted to go.
At this point it was about 1030 at night. Rita and I were a little buzzed. We asked the driver to take us to a good bar. We were both somewhat dressed up so he decided to take us to Hott Tomato, the coolest bar on the island. We asked him to come get us around 130 and went into the bar.
There we were assaulted by Germans who kept buying us champagne. They tried to talk to us even though they didn't speak English and we didn't speak German. We moved from a table to the bar, thinking that they would lose interest if we were not as geographically close to them. Plus, the bartender was hot. His name was Christian.
As soon as we sat down Christian handed us two drinks. We were puzzled as we hadn't ordered drinks yet. Christian said a guy bought them for us and pointed to a corner of the bar where a guy who could have been John Lennon's twin brother was sitting. "He's a famous artist" Christian said when Rita commented on his looks. We were like great, a famous artist bought us drinks and we tipped our drinks to him to say thanks.
After settling on my bar stool I had kicked off my sandals and had my feet resting on a rung of the bar stool. I was sipping my drink, flirting with Christian, and starting to have fun when I suddenly felt pressure on my foot. Then Rita screamed. I looked down at my feet and saw the John Lennon artist guy examining my sole.
I pulled my foot out of his hands. "What in god's name are you DOING?" Rita asked him. "I am an artist" he said. We were like "We know". And then he said "She has beautiful feet. I want to sculpt them".
At that comment Rita started laughing so hard she almost fell off her bar stool. My feet are ugly. They're wide with strange looking toes. And back then I was running 6 miles a day at least, so all my toe nails were either missing or in various shades of grey black. I started laughing too, but that's because my feet are ticklish and he was caressing the bottom of my foot. I looked at Rita and she said "Oh, let him rub your foot. He did buy us drinks." There's a reason she gave me the nickname Bait.
After a few more seconds of having my feet man handled, and Rita laughing at me while taking pictures, I pretended I had to go to the bathroom. I gave Rita a signal to meet me outside on the beach, where Hott Tomato had tables set up. The tables were all empty because it had been raining lightly on and off all evening. I figured we could sit out there by ourselves and not be harassed anymore by the bizarre patrons of the bar.
Christian brought us drinks, and that's when Rita looked over at the parking lot and noticed that our bus driver was sitting in the bus. So we went over to the bus. "I thought you were going back to the hotel" Rita said. He told us he couldn't because he was off work and as soon as he went back he'd have to turn in the keys for the bus. He had been dozing in the driver's seat waiting for us.
We were like "You can't wait here in the bus. Come into the bar with us." He protested but Rita doesn't take no for an answer so he reluctantly followed us into the bar. There was dead silence as we walked in with him. And that's when I noticed, hey, there's no black people in here.
We sat outside on the beach and bought our driver drinks. It started raining so we went inside and cleared out a whole section of the bar because apparently some Europeans are afraid of black people. I don't remember too much about the rest of the evening except that Christian grabbed me during a tango and pulled me up on a table to dance.
Shit, now I remember. That's why Gus got thrown out of that bar. He was trying to dance on a table and broke it.
The driver took us back to the hotel around 330 in the morning. Christian showed up at our hotel room a few minutes later. I didn't know what to do so Rita was like "Oh, just go for a walk with him". So we went for a walk, albeit a short one, from my hotel room to a secluded hot tub on the beach. We got in and he started trying to kiss me. I was like "dude, what are you doing" and he was like "I want to make love to you". So I was like "do you seriously think I'm going to sleep with a guy I just met?" and he said "we're sitting in a private hot tub and you're in your underwear". Good point. But I decided it was time to put on my dress and go to sleep, so I told him good night and went back to my room.
I should mention that Rita and I had to catch a noon flight, and here it was 5 in the morning. Plus, I hadn't called my boyfriend the whole week because I was busy flirting and kissing random guys in bars, and I thought maybe I should give him a call so he couldn't say later in a fight that I hadn't called him my whole vacation.
Ech. I called him and left an unintelligible message on his voice mail.
Well, you know how the rest of the story goes. I ended up with a c
oncussion.
Here's a pic of Christian, me, one of the Germans, Rita, and our driver. I told you he was tall.
After Rita and I had dinner at Mezzanotte's we headed back to our hotel. We were trying to figure out what bar we were going to go to. We were tired of the resort bars and we were also trying to avoid three Canadian guys, one of whom bit me on the head before cutting off one of my corn row braids. The other two guys were nice, but boring.
There was a close bar that we could have gone to, but our new friend Gus had been thrown out of it the evening before and we decided to never go there again. I can't remember what he did, but I think it involved taking his clothes off. Anyway, we decided the best course of action would be to find a bar that was far enough away that the Canadians couldn't find it and that there was little chance that Gus had been thrown out of it.
We went into the lobby and found the resort driver, a tall guy from Jamaica (I think he was about 6'4"). We had met him three days before when we were walking back to the hotel from Cupisco beach (about 3 miles from the hotel). As we were walking down the side of the road we saw a bus coming towards us, and then the bus turned around, and then pulled up next to us. A guy with dreds was yelling something but we couldn't hear him. I was like "Rita, do you think the bus guy is trying to kidnap us?" We were debating running when suddenly we recognized the bus driver as an employee of the resort. He gave us a ride back to the hotel and that's when we became friends with him, and he would drive us where ever we wanted to go.
At this point it was about 1030 at night. Rita and I were a little buzzed. We asked the driver to take us to a good bar. We were both somewhat dressed up so he decided to take us to Hott Tomato, the coolest bar on the island. We asked him to come get us around 130 and went into the bar.
There we were assaulted by Germans who kept buying us champagne. They tried to talk to us even though they didn't speak English and we didn't speak German. We moved from a table to the bar, thinking that they would lose interest if we were not as geographically close to them. Plus, the bartender was hot. His name was Christian.
As soon as we sat down Christian handed us two drinks. We were puzzled as we hadn't ordered drinks yet. Christian said a guy bought them for us and pointed to a corner of the bar where a guy who could have been John Lennon's twin brother was sitting. "He's a famous artist" Christian said when Rita commented on his looks. We were like great, a famous artist bought us drinks and we tipped our drinks to him to say thanks.
After settling on my bar stool I had kicked off my sandals and had my feet resting on a rung of the bar stool. I was sipping my drink, flirting with Christian, and starting to have fun when I suddenly felt pressure on my foot. Then Rita screamed. I looked down at my feet and saw the John Lennon artist guy examining my sole.
I pulled my foot out of his hands. "What in god's name are you DOING?" Rita asked him. "I am an artist" he said. We were like "We know". And then he said "She has beautiful feet. I want to sculpt them".At that comment Rita started laughing so hard she almost fell off her bar stool. My feet are ugly. They're wide with strange looking toes. And back then I was running 6 miles a day at least, so all my toe nails were either missing or in various shades of grey black. I started laughing too, but that's because my feet are ticklish and he was caressing the bottom of my foot. I looked at Rita and she said "Oh, let him rub your foot. He did buy us drinks." There's a reason she gave me the nickname Bait.
After a few more seconds of having my feet man handled, and Rita laughing at me while taking pictures, I pretended I had to go to the bathroom. I gave Rita a signal to meet me outside on the beach, where Hott Tomato had tables set up. The tables were all empty because it had been raining lightly on and off all evening. I figured we could sit out there by ourselves and not be harassed anymore by the bizarre patrons of the bar.
Christian brought us drinks, and that's when Rita looked over at the parking lot and noticed that our bus driver was sitting in the bus. So we went over to the bus. "I thought you were going back to the hotel" Rita said. He told us he couldn't because he was off work and as soon as he went back he'd have to turn in the keys for the bus. He had been dozing in the driver's seat waiting for us.
We were like "You can't wait here in the bus. Come into the bar with us." He protested but Rita doesn't take no for an answer so he reluctantly followed us into the bar. There was dead silence as we walked in with him. And that's when I noticed, hey, there's no black people in here.
We sat outside on the beach and bought our driver drinks. It started raining so we went inside and cleared out a whole section of the bar because apparently some Europeans are afraid of black people. I don't remember too much about the rest of the evening except that Christian grabbed me during a tango and pulled me up on a table to dance.Shit, now I remember. That's why Gus got thrown out of that bar. He was trying to dance on a table and broke it.
The driver took us back to the hotel around 330 in the morning. Christian showed up at our hotel room a few minutes later. I didn't know what to do so Rita was like "Oh, just go for a walk with him". So we went for a walk, albeit a short one, from my hotel room to a secluded hot tub on the beach. We got in and he started trying to kiss me. I was like "dude, what are you doing" and he was like "I want to make love to you". So I was like "do you seriously think I'm going to sleep with a guy I just met?" and he said "we're sitting in a private hot tub and you're in your underwear". Good point. But I decided it was time to put on my dress and go to sleep, so I told him good night and went back to my room.
I should mention that Rita and I had to catch a noon flight, and here it was 5 in the morning. Plus, I hadn't called my boyfriend the whole week because I was busy flirting and kissing random guys in bars, and I thought maybe I should give him a call so he couldn't say later in a fight that I hadn't called him my whole vacation.
Ech. I called him and left an unintelligible message on his voice mail.
Well, you know how the rest of the story goes. I ended up with a c
oncussion.Here's a pic of Christian, me, one of the Germans, Rita, and our driver. I told you he was tall.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
UFOs
When I was a kid, maybe 8 or 9, I lived in a house in a kind of rural part of Ohio. The house backed up to a lake where many weird things happened. The two things that made the papers were when these kids played dungeons and dragons in the woods around the lake, and one ended up committing suicide (James Dallas Egbert), and when we had a flash flood, causing some kids who had taken shelter in a culvert to get caught in the flood waters. One 16 year old girl's body was found in a tree when the waters receded, only 4 houses down from where I lived. Something about the lake always seemed a little off.
One night my dad was out on the back patio looking at stars when he noticed a strange light over the lake. My dad is an engineer, and designs planes for a living. He knew it was something other than a known aircraft. He ran into the house and got us kids, and the video camera. He filmed the light as we watched it hover over the lake. Then the light suddenly started coming right towards us. My dad told us to run into the house, and when we looked out back a few minutes later, the light was gone.
I used to show the movie to friends because it was kind of cool. Then, in 1993, I was working for 6 months at New Mexico State University Physical Science Lab. There was a bunch of cutting edge technology being used in the labs, including software to do video analysis on images. I had told one of the researchers about the video, and he asked me if I could get a copy of it for him to look at. My dad sent the tape, which was in 8mm format, and the guy did some analysis on it. He couldn't figure out what it was either. Then he submitted it to some UFO group where it was put in their archives. After I finished my work there I lost touch with him, in part because I kissed him at a party one night, and then decided I didn't like him anymore, so I don't know what, if any, further conclusions were drawn about the video by the UFO group.
Fast forward to 1997. I was working on a project with this woman named Rita. I never paid much attention to her until she invited me out to a happy hour. I was the only one that showed up, and we became instant friends that night. It was the kind of friendship where you feel like you known that person forever. Rita took care of me during that time, when I was being pretty self destructive. I would go out and party all night, get a few hours of sleep, and then roll into work. She would "kidnap" me and make me spend the weekend at her house, away from the various male detritus that I was hanging out with. She would feed me and make me sleep.
We decided to go on vacation to St. Maarten together, one of my favorite places. This was about 6 months into our friendship, and is the trip where I got a concussion from falling off a toilet seat (http://frankiflowers.blogspot.com/2007/02/commodal-concussion.html). One night we were sitting on the beach, and I was telling Rita how great it was to have her as a friend, and that it was strange to me since I don't normally buddy up with women (mostly because they are jealous, lying, PMSing bitches who will dump you as a friend the second some guy with a semi hard cock takes an interest in them). Then I said I felt like I had known her all my life.
She turned to me and said "I think we met before". I was like "where?" and she said "on a UFO".
Then she proceeded to tell me about how, one morning driving into work, she and a co-worker she commuted with saw a bright light in the sky. They were in light rush hour traffic, and cars along that stretch of road were slowing down and pulling over to look at the light. Rita remembered the radio turning to static, and reaching down to adjust the knob. The next thing she remembered was sitting on the side of the road, and the engine of the car being off. About 5 minutes had elapsed. She and her co-worker were sure they had been abducted by the UFO (for the record, the UFO sighting was written up in an article in the Washington Post, which I wasn't able to locate on the web in the few seconds I just spent looking).
People at work knew about my UFO sighting because I had brought the film in to have it put on a CD (since lost in one of my moves, but I should see if my brothers have a copy and I'll post it on the blog). Also, at the time Rita and I were working on a declassification project for the government, and one of the things we were declassifying was Project Blue Book. I don't believe Rita and I met on a UFO, but I did think it was an interesting thing to say.
Rita ended our friendship in 2003. She had been dating this guy for a while, and he didn't like me very much (maybe because I did things like get Rita really drunk in the middle of the afternoon, or maybe because Rita and I would pretend to make out in bars to fuck with guys, or maybe because I once fell over a sofa in their house while holding a mixed drink that had something red in it, and the sofa was white, and they couldn't get the stain out). They got married, and I wasn't invited to the wedding. I started seeing less and less of Rita.
One evening I showed up for a work happy hour, after driving in traffic for 2 1/2 hours, and Rita started screaming and yelling at me for no reason that I could figure out other than she was pissed at me for existing. Her husband walked with me as I left the bar and headed to my car, since I had also just broken up with a guy I had been seeing that I thought was "the one", and was in no mood to be around someone who was trying to make me feel worse than I already did.
Her husband said he didn't know why she was suddenly so mad at me, and that I should "just give her some time". I waited and waited for her to email or call me, but she never did. After four months I sent her an email, but she never responded back.
And that, as they say, was the end of that.
One night my dad was out on the back patio looking at stars when he noticed a strange light over the lake. My dad is an engineer, and designs planes for a living. He knew it was something other than a known aircraft. He ran into the house and got us kids, and the video camera. He filmed the light as we watched it hover over the lake. Then the light suddenly started coming right towards us. My dad told us to run into the house, and when we looked out back a few minutes later, the light was gone.
I used to show the movie to friends because it was kind of cool. Then, in 1993, I was working for 6 months at New Mexico State University Physical Science Lab. There was a bunch of cutting edge technology being used in the labs, including software to do video analysis on images. I had told one of the researchers about the video, and he asked me if I could get a copy of it for him to look at. My dad sent the tape, which was in 8mm format, and the guy did some analysis on it. He couldn't figure out what it was either. Then he submitted it to some UFO group where it was put in their archives. After I finished my work there I lost touch with him, in part because I kissed him at a party one night, and then decided I didn't like him anymore, so I don't know what, if any, further conclusions were drawn about the video by the UFO group.
Fast forward to 1997. I was working on a project with this woman named Rita. I never paid much attention to her until she invited me out to a happy hour. I was the only one that showed up, and we became instant friends that night. It was the kind of friendship where you feel like you known that person forever. Rita took care of me during that time, when I was being pretty self destructive. I would go out and party all night, get a few hours of sleep, and then roll into work. She would "kidnap" me and make me spend the weekend at her house, away from the various male detritus that I was hanging out with. She would feed me and make me sleep.
We decided to go on vacation to St. Maarten together, one of my favorite places. This was about 6 months into our friendship, and is the trip where I got a concussion from falling off a toilet seat (http://frankiflowers.blogspot.com/2007/02/commodal-concussion.html). One night we were sitting on the beach, and I was telling Rita how great it was to have her as a friend, and that it was strange to me since I don't normally buddy up with women (mostly because they are jealous, lying, PMSing bitches who will dump you as a friend the second some guy with a semi hard cock takes an interest in them). Then I said I felt like I had known her all my life.
She turned to me and said "I think we met before". I was like "where?" and she said "on a UFO".
Then she proceeded to tell me about how, one morning driving into work, she and a co-worker she commuted with saw a bright light in the sky. They were in light rush hour traffic, and cars along that stretch of road were slowing down and pulling over to look at the light. Rita remembered the radio turning to static, and reaching down to adjust the knob. The next thing she remembered was sitting on the side of the road, and the engine of the car being off. About 5 minutes had elapsed. She and her co-worker were sure they had been abducted by the UFO (for the record, the UFO sighting was written up in an article in the Washington Post, which I wasn't able to locate on the web in the few seconds I just spent looking).
People at work knew about my UFO sighting because I had brought the film in to have it put on a CD (since lost in one of my moves, but I should see if my brothers have a copy and I'll post it on the blog). Also, at the time Rita and I were working on a declassification project for the government, and one of the things we were declassifying was Project Blue Book. I don't believe Rita and I met on a UFO, but I did think it was an interesting thing to say.
Rita ended our friendship in 2003. She had been dating this guy for a while, and he didn't like me very much (maybe because I did things like get Rita really drunk in the middle of the afternoon, or maybe because Rita and I would pretend to make out in bars to fuck with guys, or maybe because I once fell over a sofa in their house while holding a mixed drink that had something red in it, and the sofa was white, and they couldn't get the stain out). They got married, and I wasn't invited to the wedding. I started seeing less and less of Rita.
One evening I showed up for a work happy hour, after driving in traffic for 2 1/2 hours, and Rita started screaming and yelling at me for no reason that I could figure out other than she was pissed at me for existing. Her husband walked with me as I left the bar and headed to my car, since I had also just broken up with a guy I had been seeing that I thought was "the one", and was in no mood to be around someone who was trying to make me feel worse than I already did.
Her husband said he didn't know why she was suddenly so mad at me, and that I should "just give her some time". I waited and waited for her to email or call me, but she never did. After four months I sent her an email, but she never responded back.
And that, as they say, was the end of that.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
S, this is your thank you
I would like to thank S, the woman who set up the class I'm teaching in DC this week, for putting out the wrong training material on Monday, so I had to get copies made, only to find out she had copies of the stuff I needed and just fucked up. I'd like to thank her for me having to go to Kinko's at 1030 at night to check a proof, and then return at 6 am to pick up my print job, which I didn't need because the material was at the teaching facility, she was just incapable of opening a fucking box to find it.
I'd like to thank S for giving me the opportunity to walk 2 miles carrying that material. And then not coming in to work so, after I figured out she had the stuff I needed, I had to get security to unlock her office door. That took 5 hours and class was almost over by then.
I'd like to thank her for going into my class room today while I was running to the deli across the street to get pretzels and taking the box where I put the extra training materials, and throwing them away instead of sending them back, as I had requested. I'd like to thank her for wasting so much fucking paper it's not funny.
And I'd like to thank her for me potentially getting stuck with a $500 bill from Kinko's that might not get paid by my company, since they can prove they shipped the material and I therefore wasted $500 making copies we didn't need. I would feel slightly better about the whole thing if at least the unused material was shipped to another class. But no, fuck nut, I mean S, decided to throw it away. And then give me attitude, when I found out what she did and went running down the hall to stop her before she dumped it in the trash chute (she literally projected the box into the chute when I was 20 feet away from her yelling "stop!" - then she gave me a look, with her non-lazy eye, and said "oh, I didn't know you were talking to me" even though there was no one else there that I could see that I might have been yelling at - of course, I don't have a lazy eye, so maybe she saw something I didn't - or maybe she's a fucking bitch).
If a tree falls on her in a forest, and no one is around but me, assume I caused the tree to fall and that she did make a sound when it hit her.
I'd like to thank S for giving me the opportunity to walk 2 miles carrying that material. And then not coming in to work so, after I figured out she had the stuff I needed, I had to get security to unlock her office door. That took 5 hours and class was almost over by then.
I'd like to thank her for going into my class room today while I was running to the deli across the street to get pretzels and taking the box where I put the extra training materials, and throwing them away instead of sending them back, as I had requested. I'd like to thank her for wasting so much fucking paper it's not funny.
And I'd like to thank her for me potentially getting stuck with a $500 bill from Kinko's that might not get paid by my company, since they can prove they shipped the material and I therefore wasted $500 making copies we didn't need. I would feel slightly better about the whole thing if at least the unused material was shipped to another class. But no, fuck nut, I mean S, decided to throw it away. And then give me attitude, when I found out what she did and went running down the hall to stop her before she dumped it in the trash chute (she literally projected the box into the chute when I was 20 feet away from her yelling "stop!" - then she gave me a look, with her non-lazy eye, and said "oh, I didn't know you were talking to me" even though there was no one else there that I could see that I might have been yelling at - of course, I don't have a lazy eye, so maybe she saw something I didn't - or maybe she's a fucking bitch).
If a tree falls on her in a forest, and no one is around but me, assume I caused the tree to fall and that she did make a sound when it hit her.
I think I like my old nose
Last night I had a dream that I was working in a laboratory with these two crazy scientists. They were both fat, had huge glasses, and big bushy eyebrows.
They called me into their little experiment area and they were like "we have new products we need you to sell to management". So I was like "okay, show me". The first thing they produced looked like a golf ball with a wedge cut out of it. Each side of the wedge had two holes. I was like "what the hell is that?" and they were like "it's a new nose".
Then they showed me a person who had just had the nose installed. He looked like he had a golf ball on his face, except for the cut out wedge which was facing upward. I was like "um, guys, that looks really stupid". They got mad and said "it's a swimmer's nose!" And then went on to explain how a person who was swimming could keep their face sort of below the water, but would still be able to breathe. They thought the Navy SEALs might buy it. They showed me three other noses. One was really flat, so a person could look around a corner and not get their nose shot off if they were in a gun fight. And then one was like a lava lamp, which could be turned on for safety in case the person was lost (people could find them by the flashing light of the nose).
I was getting more and more stressed as they showed me each nose. Then I started screaming at them "this is what you've spent our R&D funding on?????" And I realized the scientists were really duplicates of my ex-house pest Ryan in disguise. So then I was like "fuuuuuuck, what am I going to tell my management? And how did that shit bag get hired here, and duplicated as a clone?????"
Then I woke up.
They called me into their little experiment area and they were like "we have new products we need you to sell to management". So I was like "okay, show me". The first thing they produced looked like a golf ball with a wedge cut out of it. Each side of the wedge had two holes. I was like "what the hell is that?" and they were like "it's a new nose".
Then they showed me a person who had just had the nose installed. He looked like he had a golf ball on his face, except for the cut out wedge which was facing upward. I was like "um, guys, that looks really stupid". They got mad and said "it's a swimmer's nose!" And then went on to explain how a person who was swimming could keep their face sort of below the water, but would still be able to breathe. They thought the Navy SEALs might buy it. They showed me three other noses. One was really flat, so a person could look around a corner and not get their nose shot off if they were in a gun fight. And then one was like a lava lamp, which could be turned on for safety in case the person was lost (people could find them by the flashing light of the nose).
I was getting more and more stressed as they showed me each nose. Then I started screaming at them "this is what you've spent our R&D funding on?????" And I realized the scientists were really duplicates of my ex-house pest Ryan in disguise. So then I was like "fuuuuuuck, what am I going to tell my management? And how did that shit bag get hired here, and duplicated as a clone?????"
Then I woke up.
Monday, March 23, 2009
make vs. buy
And while I'm launching tirades...
I've been reading this really good book called Warrior Soul, by Chuck Pfarrer. It's his memoir of being a Navy SEAL. I've enjoyed the book a lot.
I found it interesting though, that his whole reason for joining the SEALs is that he got dumped by a girlfriend. Then he went on this huge tear to sleep with as many women as possible. Then he met some woman, settled down (sort of, for a SEAL anyway) and married her. Then he slept with someone else. Actually, two women, at the same time.
And the weirdest thing to me is, through out the descriptions of his escapades with all these women (they don't rate more than a sentence usually, so don't go out and buy the book thinking it's about sex), wife and one night stand alike, he continually uses the term "making love". Love. Really?
I have to say, I've always found that expression to be one of the stupidest and most annoying in the English language (I put it even before the expression "whatever floats your boat"). As soon as someone uses that expression around me I have to fight the urge to vomit on them. But today I started thinking, as I was watching the moron at Kinko's try to comprehend "2 slides on one page", that maybe that is the break down between men and women, or romantics and breeders.
The concept of making something...you make dinner. You eat it. It's gone. There's no sense of existence after the act (unless you eat something you're allergic to, in which case you might throw up - but, that's outside the scope of the point I'm trying to make). Why not be a little more REAL about what's going on? Guys always get pissed when I say "fucking" or "having sex". I guess that's because they prefer euphemisms for what they are doing, especially when the guy is just fucking around. I guess they think that saying "making love" will make the girl feel better when she realizes she's not going to get a return phone call. "Oh, at least we made love" she'll say as she eats a half gallon of ice cream or an entire bottle of Xanax.
Devious trickery is all it amounts to. Guys don't want to say "love" because they're worried about the implications (marriage, pregnancy, belly fat, stretched out chop chop, hormones, divorce or death after many years with a partner they can't stand). So they get around that by using the shady "making love" expression. He figures "it almost sounded like I said I love her, I bet she'll fuck me now". She thinks "oh, he said love". And then after the fact he's all like "I said "make" before, love wasn't a verb, stop calling me, you ho" and she's all like "but I thought you loved me".
I encourage all women to laugh in the face of any man who says "make love". And to understand it's an expression that means nothing. A guy makes love to you, and then makes love to some girl he picks up in a bar while he's on a business trip away from you, and then makes love to some woman he picked up on midnighthookup.com, and then comes to your house and makes love to you again. All vaginas are the same. If a guy really loved you, he would avoid the word like the plague, because he'd be scared that you didn't love him. And then, if you love him, he'll leave you because men can't stand to be happy.
And isn't fucked just more appropriate for explaining how we all end up when we try to have a relationship...
I've been reading this really good book called Warrior Soul, by Chuck Pfarrer. It's his memoir of being a Navy SEAL. I've enjoyed the book a lot.
I found it interesting though, that his whole reason for joining the SEALs is that he got dumped by a girlfriend. Then he went on this huge tear to sleep with as many women as possible. Then he met some woman, settled down (sort of, for a SEAL anyway) and married her. Then he slept with someone else. Actually, two women, at the same time.
And the weirdest thing to me is, through out the descriptions of his escapades with all these women (they don't rate more than a sentence usually, so don't go out and buy the book thinking it's about sex), wife and one night stand alike, he continually uses the term "making love". Love. Really?
I have to say, I've always found that expression to be one of the stupidest and most annoying in the English language (I put it even before the expression "whatever floats your boat"). As soon as someone uses that expression around me I have to fight the urge to vomit on them. But today I started thinking, as I was watching the moron at Kinko's try to comprehend "2 slides on one page", that maybe that is the break down between men and women, or romantics and breeders.
The concept of making something...you make dinner. You eat it. It's gone. There's no sense of existence after the act (unless you eat something you're allergic to, in which case you might throw up - but, that's outside the scope of the point I'm trying to make). Why not be a little more REAL about what's going on? Guys always get pissed when I say "fucking" or "having sex". I guess that's because they prefer euphemisms for what they are doing, especially when the guy is just fucking around. I guess they think that saying "making love" will make the girl feel better when she realizes she's not going to get a return phone call. "Oh, at least we made love" she'll say as she eats a half gallon of ice cream or an entire bottle of Xanax.
Devious trickery is all it amounts to. Guys don't want to say "love" because they're worried about the implications (marriage, pregnancy, belly fat, stretched out chop chop, hormones, divorce or death after many years with a partner they can't stand). So they get around that by using the shady "making love" expression. He figures "it almost sounded like I said I love her, I bet she'll fuck me now". She thinks "oh, he said love". And then after the fact he's all like "I said "make" before, love wasn't a verb, stop calling me, you ho" and she's all like "but I thought you loved me".
I encourage all women to laugh in the face of any man who says "make love". And to understand it's an expression that means nothing. A guy makes love to you, and then makes love to some girl he picks up in a bar while he's on a business trip away from you, and then makes love to some woman he picked up on midnighthookup.com, and then comes to your house and makes love to you again. All vaginas are the same. If a guy really loved you, he would avoid the word like the plague, because he'd be scared that you didn't love him. And then, if you love him, he'll leave you because men can't stand to be happy.
And isn't fucked just more appropriate for explaining how we all end up when we try to have a relationship...
ready to explode in 3, 2, 1
Have you ever seen a human brain explode? Well if you stick around you'll get to see my grey matter splattered all over these hotel walls (and they'll probably be pissed at the Marriott since, for no reason in particular, they called me today and said they've double the price of my room).
So, this AM I got up early to redo all of my time cards for the past three months. That's because none of my customers had customer numbers yet so all the work I've done is sitting in a temp code, showing me as unbillable for the whole quarter. Though nothing could be further from the truth. And it would be bad to show up on someone's list as non-billable.
My manager set up new codes for me. I have to get my time card updated by Friday. The first code, of the three he gave me to use for various projects I've worked on, didn't work because it was fat fingered into the system wrong. The second one was retired and we can't charge to it anymore. The third one was the right code, but I can't get access to it because I wasn't given permission to use it. All of these problems are being corrected, and I'm sure will be done around the time I'm on a plane flying back to DC, and then I'll get in trouble for not getting my time card updated in time.
Then I sat on a 2 hour meeting to discuss the new way we are doing business. I have to go out and scrounge my own work. Great, except that every time I've done that, another organization at my wonderful company has claimed ownership of the client, and I don't get to do any of the work. Also, I'm supposed to call past clients. Since I'm the fire fighter of the team, sent in when others have been thrown off, I don't own most of my clients, some other consultant does. I have clients that schedule me to do work for them, but half the time the work gets given to someone else because it was their client to begin with (even if they screwed up the engagement, they get sent back later) or because the person who does my schedule smokes crack and fucks my schedule up. I'm supposed to update the new scheduling software with my engagements. In my spare time.
Then I went to the training facility where I'm supposed to be teaching class tomorrow. Not only did they ship the wrong material, but I also found out I'm teaching 2 classes instead of one. I'm currently between trips to Kinko's to get my training material copied, hopefully by tomorrow when class starts. I'll be picking the material up at o dark 30 and walking 2 miles with it to my class since there was only Kinko's that could get the job done in time. I have to get to my training class early because the VM image that I teach from has an expired license, I just got the renewed license by email about an hour ago, and I have to install it on 15 different machines before everyone shows up. Assuming the install will work, since no one in my company apparently knows how to set up a new license on the VM image. Hopefully I can figure it out before class starts. Otherwise, I'm really fucked.
I should note that I only found out how fucked my class was after sending a final warning email today that things seemed to be going from SNAFU to TARFU to FUBAR in a quick like manner. Though I've been asking questions about WTF I'm supposed to be teaching tomorrow for the past two weeks, I did not get a response back from the back office until 4:30 today. Nice.
I won't even go into the discussion I had with another consultant about how I should move to DC to ensure I have work, since lay offs were mentioned in the meeting this AM. I took the job I have now to get out of the 3 letter agency gig and so I could live where I wanted and not have to do work with those kinds of people. Now I have this veiled threat that they aren't going to give me work until I move. I respond to that with a big fuck off. I am NOT moving back to this shit show coast. I am not going back to work with those 3 letter guys unless I'm an employee, at which point I will get deployed to some shit show third world country, making more money than my current employer will pay me.
And, I'll get to carry a gun. Bullets I know how to dodge. Bullshit like today just pisses me off.
So, this AM I got up early to redo all of my time cards for the past three months. That's because none of my customers had customer numbers yet so all the work I've done is sitting in a temp code, showing me as unbillable for the whole quarter. Though nothing could be further from the truth. And it would be bad to show up on someone's list as non-billable.
My manager set up new codes for me. I have to get my time card updated by Friday. The first code, of the three he gave me to use for various projects I've worked on, didn't work because it was fat fingered into the system wrong. The second one was retired and we can't charge to it anymore. The third one was the right code, but I can't get access to it because I wasn't given permission to use it. All of these problems are being corrected, and I'm sure will be done around the time I'm on a plane flying back to DC, and then I'll get in trouble for not getting my time card updated in time.
Then I sat on a 2 hour meeting to discuss the new way we are doing business. I have to go out and scrounge my own work. Great, except that every time I've done that, another organization at my wonderful company has claimed ownership of the client, and I don't get to do any of the work. Also, I'm supposed to call past clients. Since I'm the fire fighter of the team, sent in when others have been thrown off, I don't own most of my clients, some other consultant does. I have clients that schedule me to do work for them, but half the time the work gets given to someone else because it was their client to begin with (even if they screwed up the engagement, they get sent back later) or because the person who does my schedule smokes crack and fucks my schedule up. I'm supposed to update the new scheduling software with my engagements. In my spare time.
Then I went to the training facility where I'm supposed to be teaching class tomorrow. Not only did they ship the wrong material, but I also found out I'm teaching 2 classes instead of one. I'm currently between trips to Kinko's to get my training material copied, hopefully by tomorrow when class starts. I'll be picking the material up at o dark 30 and walking 2 miles with it to my class since there was only Kinko's that could get the job done in time. I have to get to my training class early because the VM image that I teach from has an expired license, I just got the renewed license by email about an hour ago, and I have to install it on 15 different machines before everyone shows up. Assuming the install will work, since no one in my company apparently knows how to set up a new license on the VM image. Hopefully I can figure it out before class starts. Otherwise, I'm really fucked.
I should note that I only found out how fucked my class was after sending a final warning email today that things seemed to be going from SNAFU to TARFU to FUBAR in a quick like manner. Though I've been asking questions about WTF I'm supposed to be teaching tomorrow for the past two weeks, I did not get a response back from the back office until 4:30 today. Nice.
I won't even go into the discussion I had with another consultant about how I should move to DC to ensure I have work, since lay offs were mentioned in the meeting this AM. I took the job I have now to get out of the 3 letter agency gig and so I could live where I wanted and not have to do work with those kinds of people. Now I have this veiled threat that they aren't going to give me work until I move. I respond to that with a big fuck off. I am NOT moving back to this shit show coast. I am not going back to work with those 3 letter guys unless I'm an employee, at which point I will get deployed to some shit show third world country, making more money than my current employer will pay me.
And, I'll get to carry a gun. Bullets I know how to dodge. Bullshit like today just pisses me off.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
hats
Last night I dreamed that my friend Eva and I had gone to a small town in Arizona to buy a hat. We were walking down the main street of this small town, looking for a hat shop, when we realized a beauty competition was going on in the town.
As we started to walk in front of the bandstand where the contestants were, we saw a woman who was obviously going to win the contest. She was about 8 feet tall, and her arms and legs could bend into any position. She was singing the song "Margaritaville" for what I guess was the talent part of the competition.
When Eva and I tried to continue down the street, this 8 foot tall woman kept jumping in front of us and then doing kind of the splits, but not really, because her legs would bend in such a way that as she landed her toes would be touching her forehead. Eva and I started getting really annoying because we were in a rush to get our hats because the sun was getting hotter and hotter, but we couldn't get down the street because this stupid woman kept singing Margaritaville over and over and landing in front of us every time we tried to find a new way down the street.
Finally Eva was like "Why didn't we bring Dan (her husband) with us?" We decided to head back to the hotel where we were staying to see if we could find Dan. The crowd started closing in on me and it was so hot I thought I would faint. The sun was really bright and I couldn't see anything but outlines anymore.
Then I woke up.
As we started to walk in front of the bandstand where the contestants were, we saw a woman who was obviously going to win the contest. She was about 8 feet tall, and her arms and legs could bend into any position. She was singing the song "Margaritaville" for what I guess was the talent part of the competition.
When Eva and I tried to continue down the street, this 8 foot tall woman kept jumping in front of us and then doing kind of the splits, but not really, because her legs would bend in such a way that as she landed her toes would be touching her forehead. Eva and I started getting really annoying because we were in a rush to get our hats because the sun was getting hotter and hotter, but we couldn't get down the street because this stupid woman kept singing Margaritaville over and over and landing in front of us every time we tried to find a new way down the street.
Finally Eva was like "Why didn't we bring Dan (her husband) with us?" We decided to head back to the hotel where we were staying to see if we could find Dan. The crowd started closing in on me and it was so hot I thought I would faint. The sun was really bright and I couldn't see anything but outlines anymore.
Then I woke up.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
the souls of stars
Last night I had a dream that I had a magic telescope that would let me see the souls of stars. At the beginning of the dream I was standing on top of this round hill looking up at this amazing collection of stars in the sky. I pulled out my telescope and looked through it. The sky looked the same. But then I switched to the telescope mode for looking at souls and every star turned into a painting or a card or a poem.
Some of the cards were actual, like, Hallmark cards, and one that I saw had a cartoon birthday cake on the front of it. When I opened the card (because I could some how do that with the telescope) it said "Happy Birthday! Love mom". I thought it was weird that a star would pick that as its soul representation.
Next I looked at a star with a poem representation. The poems were written in star script so I couldn't read them, but this guy who suddenly appeared next to me on the hill, who looked like a monk or something, would start reciting the poem in English when I would look at it in the telescope. If I moved between stars that had poem representations he would stop mid sentence and start reading the next poem, like switching forward to the next song on an MP3 player.
The stars with paintings were my favorite. Some of the paintings were real world paintings like the Mona Lisa. Others were paintings I've never seen before.
It was a really cool dream.
Then I woke up , and it was only 4 am, so I went back to sleep. This time I dreamed that I was on this huge white cruise ship kind of boat, but Angelina Jolie and I were the only ones on the boat. We were going to somewhere in the southern US to do an ice climbing demonstration, because it turned out the hull of the boat was made of material that was like ice that we could climb up.
So we pull into the harbor and I go to put on my crampons but they don't fit me anymore and they keep falling off. Angelina says they must have gotten swollen in the ocean air (even though metal doesn't really swell because of air). She was kind of pissed at me about my crampons, so then I told her that I remembered my ex boyfriend worked at a climbing shop where I could get some crampons.
So we go to the climbing shop and it's this guy I used to date in Ouray, and he says he can get me some crampons if I let him have a party on the cruise boat. I agree even though Angelina thinks it's a bad idea and doesn't want him on the boat. So he brings all of his friends over and they start destroying our boat, throwing beer cans everywhere and smashing up the sides with their ice axes. Angelina tells me to find my ex and get him and his friends off the boat immediately.
So we start going down a hallway when I see the room to my cabin is closed, and I can hear my ex in there with some girl. So I look at Angelina and tell her I can't believe, with all the open rooms on the boat, that he would pick mine to have sex in. Then I also realize the girl he's with is the girl he was fucking while we were dating. And Angelina asks me why I think he would act any differently than he did when we were dating. And then she asked me if I even cared.
And I decided I didn't care, so I opened up the door and started yelling at him. He and his friends left. And then Angelina said that since I did such a good job with my ex, I would get a pair of magic shoes that had retractable crampons so I would always have them with me. And the best part is the shoes were really pink flip flops. So then we went ice climbing on the side of the boat and a bunch of people were watching us and clapping and throwing confetti.
Then I woke up.
Some of the cards were actual, like, Hallmark cards, and one that I saw had a cartoon birthday cake on the front of it. When I opened the card (because I could some how do that with the telescope) it said "Happy Birthday! Love mom". I thought it was weird that a star would pick that as its soul representation.
Next I looked at a star with a poem representation. The poems were written in star script so I couldn't read them, but this guy who suddenly appeared next to me on the hill, who looked like a monk or something, would start reciting the poem in English when I would look at it in the telescope. If I moved between stars that had poem representations he would stop mid sentence and start reading the next poem, like switching forward to the next song on an MP3 player.
The stars with paintings were my favorite. Some of the paintings were real world paintings like the Mona Lisa. Others were paintings I've never seen before.
It was a really cool dream.
Then I woke up , and it was only 4 am, so I went back to sleep. This time I dreamed that I was on this huge white cruise ship kind of boat, but Angelina Jolie and I were the only ones on the boat. We were going to somewhere in the southern US to do an ice climbing demonstration, because it turned out the hull of the boat was made of material that was like ice that we could climb up.
So we pull into the harbor and I go to put on my crampons but they don't fit me anymore and they keep falling off. Angelina says they must have gotten swollen in the ocean air (even though metal doesn't really swell because of air). She was kind of pissed at me about my crampons, so then I told her that I remembered my ex boyfriend worked at a climbing shop where I could get some crampons.
So we go to the climbing shop and it's this guy I used to date in Ouray, and he says he can get me some crampons if I let him have a party on the cruise boat. I agree even though Angelina thinks it's a bad idea and doesn't want him on the boat. So he brings all of his friends over and they start destroying our boat, throwing beer cans everywhere and smashing up the sides with their ice axes. Angelina tells me to find my ex and get him and his friends off the boat immediately.
So we start going down a hallway when I see the room to my cabin is closed, and I can hear my ex in there with some girl. So I look at Angelina and tell her I can't believe, with all the open rooms on the boat, that he would pick mine to have sex in. Then I also realize the girl he's with is the girl he was fucking while we were dating. And Angelina asks me why I think he would act any differently than he did when we were dating. And then she asked me if I even cared.
And I decided I didn't care, so I opened up the door and started yelling at him. He and his friends left. And then Angelina said that since I did such a good job with my ex, I would get a pair of magic shoes that had retractable crampons so I would always have them with me. And the best part is the shoes were really pink flip flops. So then we went ice climbing on the side of the boat and a bunch of people were watching us and clapping and throwing confetti.
Then I woke up.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Ellington, my octopus
Recently I've decided I really like octopi. I've liked them for a long time, but now I like them even more.
If I had to be friends with any sea creature, it would definitely be an octopus, hopefully one named Ellington. Octopi are the smartest of all the non-vertebrae creatures. They're always doing bad things at the aquarium like causing floods in aquariums (http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090227/ap_on_fe_st/odd_octopus_flood), hiding in lunch boxes (http://www.wsoctv.com/news/18868489/detail.html) and throwing rocks (http://current.com/items/89593010/octopus_gone_wild.htm).
Because octopi are nocturnal, I could stay up with Ellington all night drinking, and at 2 in the morning he would make us some snacks. Ellington would be able to cook really fast because he has 8 arms so he could chop up four vegetables at the same time and make stir fry in seconds. Then he would probably get really drunk and start laughing and spray ink all over my couch. Normally I would get mad but in that case I would just sigh and say "Ellington, I think that's enough shiraz for you". And he would get all melodramatic and say "I'm so sorry I ruined your couch. Here, cut my arm off!" because he knows he can grow a new one. I might even have to tell him to not say that in bars when we would go out drinking. I would be like "Ellington, girls really DON'T think it's cool when you cut your arm off. They think it's gross."
Because the only hard part of Ellington is his beak I could get him to dust under my sofa because he would fit under there. Also, he would probably enjoy shopping for flip flops as much as I do, and we could both buy four pairs and then I wouldn't look like an excessive flip flop shopper. If we went out with friends I could send him to the bar and he could carry all of our drinks back without spilling them.
Ellington would play pranks on people at work that would make me laugh. My favorite would be if he went up to any one I didn't like and then acted like he was picking lint off their face. But really he would be making a suction mark with his suckers on their face.
He wouldn't like sharks as much as I do. He would probably be like "what's so GREAT about great whites, anyway?" Then he'd say "Why can't you like a nice sea creature like a star fish? Why do you have to like the bad ones? You know that great white is only going to hurt you. Oh sure, he's mister popular and all. But do you really think he's a nice guy? He seems a little sinister to me, frankly." And then I would give him a hug because he would just be saying that out of jealousy. And then he would make me lemon cupcakes. and some mussels for himself, and we would watch season 2 of abfab, and he would be so smart he could translate the French bits for me and he would get the Gaultier jokes.
If I had to be friends with any sea creature, it would definitely be an octopus, hopefully one named Ellington. Octopi are the smartest of all the non-vertebrae creatures. They're always doing bad things at the aquarium like causing floods in aquariums (http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090227/ap_on_fe_st/odd_octopus_flood), hiding in lunch boxes (http://www.wsoctv.com/news/18868489/detail.html) and throwing rocks (http://current.com/items/89593010/octopus_gone_wild.htm).
Because octopi are nocturnal, I could stay up with Ellington all night drinking, and at 2 in the morning he would make us some snacks. Ellington would be able to cook really fast because he has 8 arms so he could chop up four vegetables at the same time and make stir fry in seconds. Then he would probably get really drunk and start laughing and spray ink all over my couch. Normally I would get mad but in that case I would just sigh and say "Ellington, I think that's enough shiraz for you". And he would get all melodramatic and say "I'm so sorry I ruined your couch. Here, cut my arm off!" because he knows he can grow a new one. I might even have to tell him to not say that in bars when we would go out drinking. I would be like "Ellington, girls really DON'T think it's cool when you cut your arm off. They think it's gross."
Because the only hard part of Ellington is his beak I could get him to dust under my sofa because he would fit under there. Also, he would probably enjoy shopping for flip flops as much as I do, and we could both buy four pairs and then I wouldn't look like an excessive flip flop shopper. If we went out with friends I could send him to the bar and he could carry all of our drinks back without spilling them.
Ellington would play pranks on people at work that would make me laugh. My favorite would be if he went up to any one I didn't like and then acted like he was picking lint off their face. But really he would be making a suction mark with his suckers on their face.
He wouldn't like sharks as much as I do. He would probably be like "what's so GREAT about great whites, anyway?" Then he'd say "Why can't you like a nice sea creature like a star fish? Why do you have to like the bad ones? You know that great white is only going to hurt you. Oh sure, he's mister popular and all. But do you really think he's a nice guy? He seems a little sinister to me, frankly." And then I would give him a hug because he would just be saying that out of jealousy. And then he would make me lemon cupcakes. and some mussels for himself, and we would watch season 2 of abfab, and he would be so smart he could translate the French bits for me and he would get the Gaultier jokes.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
King David
Last night, in my TV, was a show on that David guy from the bible. I started watching it because there was a scene where this littler dude hit a bigger dude with a rock and knocked his head off. I was wondering what was up with that so I kept watching.
David means beloved. And that's a pretty good description of the way people in Judah and the Kingdom of Israel felt about him, even though he fucked some stuff up.
He was married to a woman Michal, Saul's daughter, who protected him when Saul was trying to kill him. For her sacrifice she got married off to someone else. David, meanwhile, kept marrying other women, and then demanded that Michal be returned to him because they had never officially gotten a divorce. She died childless which people in the bible saw as punishment because she yelled at David for dancing around naked while he was bringing in the ark of the covenant (I think that's the box kind of ark that had something to do with Moses and ripping off people's faces) into Jeruselem after he captured it. Which would be so typical, a woman says one little thing to her spouse and she's punished, but I bet all the time David was like "you're fat" and "I don't like that dress" and "I like my other wives better".
Meanwhile, David also had a relationship with Saul's son Jonathan, suspected to be sexual by some scholars. Or maybe they were just platonically in love with each other. Or likely David was just pretending to be in love to get Jonathan to tell him secrets about what Saul was up to. Also, Jonathan was supposed to be king, as Saul's son, but recognized David as the king (give a guy a blow job back then, and get a kingdom...those were the days).
David went off to fight a bunch of battles and stuff after he became king. When he gets home he falls in love with this woman named Bathsheba and he has sex with her. She gets knocked up, which is bad news because she's actually married to someone else, a guy named Uriah who fights for David in David's army. I think they were kind of friends, but that wasn't really clear. So David, in typical simpleton male logic, lets Uriah come home for a day to sleep with his wife so he won't figure out David's the one who knocked her up. But Uriah is a total idiot and comes home but doesn't sleep with her because none of the men he fights with are getting to sleep with their women. So David kills him, and God gets mad, so God kills David's kid. Which seems to make no sense. Why would you kill someone just because someone killed someone else. A baby no less. You don't hear those right wing Christians all upset about abortion talking about that, do you.
Then one of David's other sons, Absalom, rebels against David. But the dumb ass gets himself somehow caught in a tree by his hair and so this guy Joab, who was a general in David's army, kills him while he's trying to get out of the tree. David was really sad that his son died.
The Jews believed that David was so holy he could "bring down things from Heaven". Like maybe lemon cookies if he was out riding his horse and was hungry. Muslims believe that David was so good at reciting the psalms that "fish would leave the sea to listen to him".
I bring this all up for the purposes of wondering how people can take the bible literally.
David means beloved. And that's a pretty good description of the way people in Judah and the Kingdom of Israel felt about him, even though he fucked some stuff up.
He was married to a woman Michal, Saul's daughter, who protected him when Saul was trying to kill him. For her sacrifice she got married off to someone else. David, meanwhile, kept marrying other women, and then demanded that Michal be returned to him because they had never officially gotten a divorce. She died childless which people in the bible saw as punishment because she yelled at David for dancing around naked while he was bringing in the ark of the covenant (I think that's the box kind of ark that had something to do with Moses and ripping off people's faces) into Jeruselem after he captured it. Which would be so typical, a woman says one little thing to her spouse and she's punished, but I bet all the time David was like "you're fat" and "I don't like that dress" and "I like my other wives better".
Meanwhile, David also had a relationship with Saul's son Jonathan, suspected to be sexual by some scholars. Or maybe they were just platonically in love with each other. Or likely David was just pretending to be in love to get Jonathan to tell him secrets about what Saul was up to. Also, Jonathan was supposed to be king, as Saul's son, but recognized David as the king (give a guy a blow job back then, and get a kingdom...those were the days).
David went off to fight a bunch of battles and stuff after he became king. When he gets home he falls in love with this woman named Bathsheba and he has sex with her. She gets knocked up, which is bad news because she's actually married to someone else, a guy named Uriah who fights for David in David's army. I think they were kind of friends, but that wasn't really clear. So David, in typical simpleton male logic, lets Uriah come home for a day to sleep with his wife so he won't figure out David's the one who knocked her up. But Uriah is a total idiot and comes home but doesn't sleep with her because none of the men he fights with are getting to sleep with their women. So David kills him, and God gets mad, so God kills David's kid. Which seems to make no sense. Why would you kill someone just because someone killed someone else. A baby no less. You don't hear those right wing Christians all upset about abortion talking about that, do you.
Then one of David's other sons, Absalom, rebels against David. But the dumb ass gets himself somehow caught in a tree by his hair and so this guy Joab, who was a general in David's army, kills him while he's trying to get out of the tree. David was really sad that his son died.
The Jews believed that David was so holy he could "bring down things from Heaven". Like maybe lemon cookies if he was out riding his horse and was hungry. Muslims believe that David was so good at reciting the psalms that "fish would leave the sea to listen to him".
I bring this all up for the purposes of wondering how people can take the bible literally.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
sugar sleep, but still no explanation on the lipstick
I just read this article on Yahoo about what causes vivid dreaming. I think it's fair to say I'm a vivid dreamer, which is why I read the article.
The study of dreams is called oneirology. We spend, on average, 6 years of our life dreaming. That just makes me even more shocked when I meet people who claim they don't dream or don't remember their dreams. It's like they've lost 6 years of their life that they can't remember. Dreams occur during the REM stage of sleep, where the brain is as active as it is when you're awake (well, some people's brains are active when they're awake, but let's not generalize too much).
Besides being caused by diabetes (don't have that), bipolar disorder (I think I'm pretty sane) and other neurological issues (I'm not plotting dastardly deeds against humanity) three big factors in vivid dreaming are an excess intake of vitamin B6, spicy food intake, and low blood sugar.
I definitely could have an excess of B6 rolling around in my system since I take vitamins every day and usually drink vitamin water. Apparently this is a bad thing. But, compared to nicotine, probably not something I'm going to worry about for now.
Spicy foods...that could be a problem too. I eat jalapenos on almost every thing. Apparently spicy foods elevate the body's temperature and disrupt sleep. This is especially true if the food is eaten right before bed. Given my schedule on the road (customers who want me to work until 7 every night, trying to get in a workout, trying to find food that I actually want to eat) I usually don't get a chance to eat until right before I go to bed. And if I ate more protein that would help with the nightmares, supposedly.
As for sugar, in the past I've had low blood sugar. Last year I fainted in a department store in Arkansas (I was there because I had forgotten to pack any shirts for my consulting engagement). Fainting worked out well for me because I got to sit in the dressing room with a cool drink while a sales lady shopped for me.
Though, after I got back to my hotel room noticed I had lipstick on my big toe. I have no idea how it got there.
The study of dreams is called oneirology. We spend, on average, 6 years of our life dreaming. That just makes me even more shocked when I meet people who claim they don't dream or don't remember their dreams. It's like they've lost 6 years of their life that they can't remember. Dreams occur during the REM stage of sleep, where the brain is as active as it is when you're awake (well, some people's brains are active when they're awake, but let's not generalize too much).
Besides being caused by diabetes (don't have that), bipolar disorder (I think I'm pretty sane) and other neurological issues (I'm not plotting dastardly deeds against humanity) three big factors in vivid dreaming are an excess intake of vitamin B6, spicy food intake, and low blood sugar.
I definitely could have an excess of B6 rolling around in my system since I take vitamins every day and usually drink vitamin water. Apparently this is a bad thing. But, compared to nicotine, probably not something I'm going to worry about for now.
Spicy foods...that could be a problem too. I eat jalapenos on almost every thing. Apparently spicy foods elevate the body's temperature and disrupt sleep. This is especially true if the food is eaten right before bed. Given my schedule on the road (customers who want me to work until 7 every night, trying to get in a workout, trying to find food that I actually want to eat) I usually don't get a chance to eat until right before I go to bed. And if I ate more protein that would help with the nightmares, supposedly.
As for sugar, in the past I've had low blood sugar. Last year I fainted in a department store in Arkansas (I was there because I had forgotten to pack any shirts for my consulting engagement). Fainting worked out well for me because I got to sit in the dressing room with a cool drink while a sales lady shopped for me.
Though, after I got back to my hotel room noticed I had lipstick on my big toe. I have no idea how it got there.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
matching hearts
This is a cheesy but true story. Every time I think of it I smile.
Jonas and I were in Florence, Italy, and we had gone to this club. It was really hot and crowded inside, and the music was loud, so we took our drinks outside to enjoy the evening. There were tables set up outside the bar and we could watch people walking on the street, one of my favorite things to do in a foreign city. When we walked outside we saw a little girl sitting against the wall on the sidewalk outside of the club. She must have been around 7. I believe she was German but I'm not sure.
I was worried about her because it was about 1130 at night, and while Florence is safe, I wouldn't leave my 7 year old outside by herself. Using various pantomimes, and finally drawing a picture on a piece of note paper from a note book that I was carrying around, we finally figured out her parents were inside the club. Jonas went in to look for them. I think he asked the bartender to find them and the parents finally came out. I told them I didn't think it was safe for them to leave their kid outside (they spoke English). They waved a hand at me "oh, it's okay".
I didn't think it was okay. At all. They brought her a sprite and she came and sat down at our table. She had a stylish little white purse with pink flowers on it. I told her I liked her bag and she grinned at me even though I don't think she understood me. I started telling her a story and drawing pictures in my notebook from events of the story. It was one of my favorites as a kid, about this kitten that has to go to a baby sitter's house. The kitten puts all of his toys in a wheel barrow to take to the baby sitter. I don't know if she was getting the plot or not, but she started drawing kittens with wheel barrows too.
Then she pulled this foil packet out of her purse and opened it. Inside there were grapes. She offered us some in this very cute hostess kind of way. I kept talking to her in English and she kept responding to me in German (I think it was German). I was talking about the moon and drew a picture of that. Then she filled in the picture with stars. I added an alien and she laughed.
After we ate all the grapes I took the foil and turned my back to her, making a big deal of doing something sneaky. She wanted to see what I was doing but she was very polite. I folded the foil into a little heart and hid it in my hand. Then I put my hand out to her and she opened it and pulled out the heart. Her face suddenly lit up and she was all smiles, babbling away in German (I think). Jonas and I were looking at each other kind of puzzled, and then she pulled out a necklace that she was wearing and it was a heart the same size as the one I had made her. This coincidence made her very happy and I was happy too.
Shortly afterwards we decided to leave because we were tired so we took her in the bar and left her with her parents in there. I hope they took good care of her.
Jonas and I were in Florence, Italy, and we had gone to this club. It was really hot and crowded inside, and the music was loud, so we took our drinks outside to enjoy the evening. There were tables set up outside the bar and we could watch people walking on the street, one of my favorite things to do in a foreign city. When we walked outside we saw a little girl sitting against the wall on the sidewalk outside of the club. She must have been around 7. I believe she was German but I'm not sure.
I was worried about her because it was about 1130 at night, and while Florence is safe, I wouldn't leave my 7 year old outside by herself. Using various pantomimes, and finally drawing a picture on a piece of note paper from a note book that I was carrying around, we finally figured out her parents were inside the club. Jonas went in to look for them. I think he asked the bartender to find them and the parents finally came out. I told them I didn't think it was safe for them to leave their kid outside (they spoke English). They waved a hand at me "oh, it's okay".
I didn't think it was okay. At all. They brought her a sprite and she came and sat down at our table. She had a stylish little white purse with pink flowers on it. I told her I liked her bag and she grinned at me even though I don't think she understood me. I started telling her a story and drawing pictures in my notebook from events of the story. It was one of my favorites as a kid, about this kitten that has to go to a baby sitter's house. The kitten puts all of his toys in a wheel barrow to take to the baby sitter. I don't know if she was getting the plot or not, but she started drawing kittens with wheel barrows too.
Then she pulled this foil packet out of her purse and opened it. Inside there were grapes. She offered us some in this very cute hostess kind of way. I kept talking to her in English and she kept responding to me in German (I think it was German). I was talking about the moon and drew a picture of that. Then she filled in the picture with stars. I added an alien and she laughed.
After we ate all the grapes I took the foil and turned my back to her, making a big deal of doing something sneaky. She wanted to see what I was doing but she was very polite. I folded the foil into a little heart and hid it in my hand. Then I put my hand out to her and she opened it and pulled out the heart. Her face suddenly lit up and she was all smiles, babbling away in German (I think). Jonas and I were looking at each other kind of puzzled, and then she pulled out a necklace that she was wearing and it was a heart the same size as the one I had made her. This coincidence made her very happy and I was happy too.
Shortly afterwards we decided to leave because we were tired so we took her in the bar and left her with her parents in there. I hope they took good care of her.
iTsucks
Well, I've just spent the entire day trying to unfuck my music library. Thank you iTunes. You fucking suck.
I should mention that I got my first MP3 player back in 1999. I used MusicMatch. It was a GREAT program. Volume leveling. Discovered new music on its own. NEVER created duplicates. NEVER deleted songs (iTunes will delete music that it thinks you downloaded illegally - how fucking controlling is that?).
But then I got an iPod. I would throw it into my alley and run it over with my car if I didn't have it hooked up to my stereo so I don't have to carry around a billion CDs. But STILL...
First of all, I tried to add new music that Joe gave me to my library. It wanted me to add each individual folder. Like I have time. And, since it had to convert to the fucking stupid fucknut iTunes format, it was taking FOREVER.
So I decided to blow my music library away and start over. Should be easy. Point fucking iTunes to my music folder and come back in six hours. But no. It wasn't easy. Fucking iTunes randomly decided to not import certain albums. For example, it imported After Hours from my Nina Simone folder, but not Here Comes The Sun. I only discovered that when I started making playlists. So now I don't even know what music is missing until I go to listen to it.
Also, the fucking fuck of a program some how did not save my ratings for songs. How FUCKING stupid is that? That information is stored WITH THE SONG. It remembered all the other meta data. So now I have to go through my music library AGAIN and rate my songs.
Volume control. Well, I won't even get into that. But maybe some asspipe at Apple might want to one day get off his ass and work out. Then maybe he'll realize how fucking ANNOYING it is to constantly turn my player up or down depending on the song.
Then, as if all this stuff wasn't bad enough, I realized iTunes duplicated about half the songs it imported. Why, I don't fucking know. And then I realized that some music I burned in WMA format (my other player plays that, and MP3, pretty much any format except for iTunes) didn't import. So I manually imported it. I was prompted about converting the format to iTunes. Fine. And what do you think happened? It imported THREE copies of EVERY SONG.
And finally, iTunes smartlist. Well, guess that depends on your idea of smart. It created some jacked up, mashed up playlist of songs. You can't delete them. You can TRY to reset the parameters for the smart list, but it doesn't take them. Now I have this stupid playlist that I can't even SEE when I look at the playlists on my iPod, but it's the first playlist that plays when I switch over to my iPod when it's hooked up to my car stereo.
Oh, and when I synced my iPod it only took 6 lists of the 20 I created, even though there's room on my iPod for more songs.
My other MP3 player is a Creative Zen. It doesn't force me to make a library, I can import from the Explorer. It volume levels my songs. It...works.
I will never, ever, ever, ever buy an Apple product again.
I should mention that I got my first MP3 player back in 1999. I used MusicMatch. It was a GREAT program. Volume leveling. Discovered new music on its own. NEVER created duplicates. NEVER deleted songs (iTunes will delete music that it thinks you downloaded illegally - how fucking controlling is that?).
But then I got an iPod. I would throw it into my alley and run it over with my car if I didn't have it hooked up to my stereo so I don't have to carry around a billion CDs. But STILL...
First of all, I tried to add new music that Joe gave me to my library. It wanted me to add each individual folder. Like I have time. And, since it had to convert to the fucking stupid fucknut iTunes format, it was taking FOREVER.
So I decided to blow my music library away and start over. Should be easy. Point fucking iTunes to my music folder and come back in six hours. But no. It wasn't easy. Fucking iTunes randomly decided to not import certain albums. For example, it imported After Hours from my Nina Simone folder, but not Here Comes The Sun. I only discovered that when I started making playlists. So now I don't even know what music is missing until I go to listen to it.
Also, the fucking fuck of a program some how did not save my ratings for songs. How FUCKING stupid is that? That information is stored WITH THE SONG. It remembered all the other meta data. So now I have to go through my music library AGAIN and rate my songs.
Volume control. Well, I won't even get into that. But maybe some asspipe at Apple might want to one day get off his ass and work out. Then maybe he'll realize how fucking ANNOYING it is to constantly turn my player up or down depending on the song.
Then, as if all this stuff wasn't bad enough, I realized iTunes duplicated about half the songs it imported. Why, I don't fucking know. And then I realized that some music I burned in WMA format (my other player plays that, and MP3, pretty much any format except for iTunes) didn't import. So I manually imported it. I was prompted about converting the format to iTunes. Fine. And what do you think happened? It imported THREE copies of EVERY SONG.
And finally, iTunes smartlist. Well, guess that depends on your idea of smart. It created some jacked up, mashed up playlist of songs. You can't delete them. You can TRY to reset the parameters for the smart list, but it doesn't take them. Now I have this stupid playlist that I can't even SEE when I look at the playlists on my iPod, but it's the first playlist that plays when I switch over to my iPod when it's hooked up to my car stereo.
Oh, and when I synced my iPod it only took 6 lists of the 20 I created, even though there's room on my iPod for more songs.
My other MP3 player is a Creative Zen. It doesn't force me to make a library, I can import from the Explorer. It volume levels my songs. It...works.
I will never, ever, ever, ever buy an Apple product again.
Friday, March 13, 2009
the more sense it makes, the less sense it makes
I was watching the movie Nowhere in Africa, which is about a German Jewish family that moves to Kenya at the start of WWII. One thing, as a side note, that I didn't know until I saw the movie, is that the Jews in Africa were interred at one point during the war, by the British. They weren't kept in the same conditions as a concentration camp, though the movie clearly shows that the British didn't really like the Jews. Eventually the men were allowed, if selected by the British forces, to fight in Germany against the Germans. Anyway...
In the movie the wife Lisl, is about to depart to meet up with her husband, who's been in Kenya for 6 months getting things ready. It's obvious Lisl is not happy about going to Africa. She meets with her husband's father, who tells her "In any relationship, one person always loves more. And that person always suffers." It's obvious the person who loves more is Lisl's husband, who puts up with her affairs until he finally gets to the point where he leaves her.
I had been thinking about that quote for a while, when someone else, in an email, asked the question "why would anyone have sex with someone who was treating them badly?" The asker was a guy of course. I started to wonder, should you not have sex with someone who is treating you badly?
Of course, there's bad and then there's bad. Would I have sex with someone who was treating me like a punching bag? No. Would I have sex with a partner that had cheated on me? Maybe. And does cheating fall into the category of treating someone bad, or is it something else? And don't most relationship guides say that you should have sex even if you're mad at your partner because it can help relieve the tension and make you less mad?
Maybe the logic goes something like this...a person is ignoring you. Then that person suddenly shows interest in you. You don't know why that person was ignoring you but now you're happy that they seem to like you again. It's a common thing in relationships, summed up nicely in TTMR when Marge says (paraphrased) "When he is paying attention to you it's like the sun is shining on you. And when he loses interest it's very cold". So what do you do? Try to use intimacy in the hopes of keeping their attention, while giving yourself the impression that you are somehow connected to the person. Is this incorrect logic?
Or should you assume, if they don't give a shit about you before you have sex with them, they won't care afterwards either. In fact, they'll probably resent you even more. It may work for people that are avoiding a relationship due to emotional issues, but I imagine that's not a very large group. So, I guess I concur with the idea of not having sex with someone who is being an asshole.
But, then there's the whole relationship dynamic. What if you are the person who loves the other person more? Should you leave that person and find someone that loves you more than you love them so you can be the asshole? And not get laid? Unless the person you are with thinks it's okay to have sex with someone who is treating them badly? Or maybe find someone that loves you equally as much? You'll never get laid because that relationship does not exist.
People are either going to try to work a relationship to their advantage, or give everything to a relationship. I haven't met a single couple that doesn't have that dynamic. Which is not to say it doesn't shift over time, but isn't that what draws people together? You meet someone that you can take care of, and that person is attracted to you because that person wants to be taken care of. Or vice versa. I love people that say you should not need to be in a relationship before you get into a relationship. Isn't that against everything that makes us human? If someone doesn't want to be in a relationship, why WOULD they be in a relationship? And if someone wants to be in a relationship, why wouldn't you want to be in a relationship with them, because you know that they are willing to devote time and effort into making the relationship good. That's like saying you shouldn't want to have kids before you have them. It's stupid.
Take a mountaineering example. Say I'm going to climb denali. I want to climb it by myself because I'm such a self sufficient mountaineer I don't need anyone else's help. Then along comes some guy who wants to climb with me. Am I going to welcome him with open arms? No, I'm going to resent the shit out of him and hate him. Say another self sufficient mountaineer shows up. Do I care? No, because I'll have no interaction with him, and he won't interact with me, because we're doing our own thing. In either case, there's no relationship that could come of climbing Denali with either of those two people.
But say I'm a mountaineer who wants to climb denali, and I know what my weaknesses are. I would try to find a partner that could help me with those weaknesses, and that I could hopefully help in some way. The experience is good for both of us because we can relax and focus on our strengths because we know our partner has our back on the things we are not as good at. And maybe, over time, we learn to build up our weaknesses by having help from our partner.
Of course, during the duration of the climb, I might fight with my partner, especially if he is doing something that emphasizes my weaknesses. But am I going to desert my partner for treating me badly? Maybe, if I suck. But if I don't suck maybe I will use the situation as an opportunity to help my partner and myself.
So really, if you want to be in a relationship, the key is not to NOT want to be in a relationship. The key is to understand WHY you want to be in a relationship and what you need to get out of your relationship.
Of course, I could be wrong about all this. But no one else has provided me with a more logical explanation.
In the movie the wife Lisl, is about to depart to meet up with her husband, who's been in Kenya for 6 months getting things ready. It's obvious Lisl is not happy about going to Africa. She meets with her husband's father, who tells her "In any relationship, one person always loves more. And that person always suffers." It's obvious the person who loves more is Lisl's husband, who puts up with her affairs until he finally gets to the point where he leaves her.
I had been thinking about that quote for a while, when someone else, in an email, asked the question "why would anyone have sex with someone who was treating them badly?" The asker was a guy of course. I started to wonder, should you not have sex with someone who is treating you badly?
Of course, there's bad and then there's bad. Would I have sex with someone who was treating me like a punching bag? No. Would I have sex with a partner that had cheated on me? Maybe. And does cheating fall into the category of treating someone bad, or is it something else? And don't most relationship guides say that you should have sex even if you're mad at your partner because it can help relieve the tension and make you less mad?
Maybe the logic goes something like this...a person is ignoring you. Then that person suddenly shows interest in you. You don't know why that person was ignoring you but now you're happy that they seem to like you again. It's a common thing in relationships, summed up nicely in TTMR when Marge says (paraphrased) "When he is paying attention to you it's like the sun is shining on you. And when he loses interest it's very cold". So what do you do? Try to use intimacy in the hopes of keeping their attention, while giving yourself the impression that you are somehow connected to the person. Is this incorrect logic?
Or should you assume, if they don't give a shit about you before you have sex with them, they won't care afterwards either. In fact, they'll probably resent you even more. It may work for people that are avoiding a relationship due to emotional issues, but I imagine that's not a very large group. So, I guess I concur with the idea of not having sex with someone who is being an asshole.
But, then there's the whole relationship dynamic. What if you are the person who loves the other person more? Should you leave that person and find someone that loves you more than you love them so you can be the asshole? And not get laid? Unless the person you are with thinks it's okay to have sex with someone who is treating them badly? Or maybe find someone that loves you equally as much? You'll never get laid because that relationship does not exist.
People are either going to try to work a relationship to their advantage, or give everything to a relationship. I haven't met a single couple that doesn't have that dynamic. Which is not to say it doesn't shift over time, but isn't that what draws people together? You meet someone that you can take care of, and that person is attracted to you because that person wants to be taken care of. Or vice versa. I love people that say you should not need to be in a relationship before you get into a relationship. Isn't that against everything that makes us human? If someone doesn't want to be in a relationship, why WOULD they be in a relationship? And if someone wants to be in a relationship, why wouldn't you want to be in a relationship with them, because you know that they are willing to devote time and effort into making the relationship good. That's like saying you shouldn't want to have kids before you have them. It's stupid.
Take a mountaineering example. Say I'm going to climb denali. I want to climb it by myself because I'm such a self sufficient mountaineer I don't need anyone else's help. Then along comes some guy who wants to climb with me. Am I going to welcome him with open arms? No, I'm going to resent the shit out of him and hate him. Say another self sufficient mountaineer shows up. Do I care? No, because I'll have no interaction with him, and he won't interact with me, because we're doing our own thing. In either case, there's no relationship that could come of climbing Denali with either of those two people.
But say I'm a mountaineer who wants to climb denali, and I know what my weaknesses are. I would try to find a partner that could help me with those weaknesses, and that I could hopefully help in some way. The experience is good for both of us because we can relax and focus on our strengths because we know our partner has our back on the things we are not as good at. And maybe, over time, we learn to build up our weaknesses by having help from our partner.
Of course, during the duration of the climb, I might fight with my partner, especially if he is doing something that emphasizes my weaknesses. But am I going to desert my partner for treating me badly? Maybe, if I suck. But if I don't suck maybe I will use the situation as an opportunity to help my partner and myself.
So really, if you want to be in a relationship, the key is not to NOT want to be in a relationship. The key is to understand WHY you want to be in a relationship and what you need to get out of your relationship.
Of course, I could be wrong about all this. But no one else has provided me with a more logical explanation.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
cars
Last night I had a dream that I was walking by the bus station down the street from my house. It was really warm and the sun was unnaturally bright.
I heard someone yell my name and when I looked over there was my brother Bob, running across the street from the bus station. He was carrying a stick over his shoulder with all his belongings tied up in this red hankerchief that had large white polka dots on it.
I was like "what are you doing here?" and he said "I came out to visit you". He was really drunk. But I felt this huge sense of relief that he had come out to Colorado so I could take care of him.
I said "let's go to the grocery" because I didn't have any food in my house and I wanted to get something to feed him because he looked so skinny. When we got to the grocery, which was a whole foods store I think, he was having problems walking so I put him in this little cart that looked like a car and started pushing him around the store. When we got to a shelf that had food he wanted to eat he would knock the food into his little car.
Then this lady came up and started yelling at me because Bob was smoking a cigarette. So I took his cigarette out of his mouth and put it out on the floor. He got really mad at me so I told him I would give him another one when we left the store.
I pushed him out of the store and as soon as we got out of the door I lit a cigarette and handed it to him. He looked really happy. A guy walked up to us and told us a joke and we both started laughing really hard. I don't remember what the joke was.
Then I woke up.
I heard someone yell my name and when I looked over there was my brother Bob, running across the street from the bus station. He was carrying a stick over his shoulder with all his belongings tied up in this red hankerchief that had large white polka dots on it.
I was like "what are you doing here?" and he said "I came out to visit you". He was really drunk. But I felt this huge sense of relief that he had come out to Colorado so I could take care of him.
I said "let's go to the grocery" because I didn't have any food in my house and I wanted to get something to feed him because he looked so skinny. When we got to the grocery, which was a whole foods store I think, he was having problems walking so I put him in this little cart that looked like a car and started pushing him around the store. When we got to a shelf that had food he wanted to eat he would knock the food into his little car.
Then this lady came up and started yelling at me because Bob was smoking a cigarette. So I took his cigarette out of his mouth and put it out on the floor. He got really mad at me so I told him I would give him another one when we left the store.
I pushed him out of the store and as soon as we got out of the door I lit a cigarette and handed it to him. He looked really happy. A guy walked up to us and told us a joke and we both started laughing really hard. I don't remember what the joke was.
Then I woke up.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Nick gets dumped for a corner fart
And one of my favorite stories of my ex...
We had just attended an engineering dinner where we were doubling with my boss, Nick, and his new girlfriend, I think her name was Sam. Nick was driving us around in his mustang. Given the length of my legs, and the narrowness of the back seat of one of those things, I knew disaster was going to strike eventually. And my ex had a tendency to behave badly around my co-workers. The night was a little tense for me.
Anyway, the dinner ended with me getting in trouble for breaking a piece off of a peanut brittle sculpture that apparently was not meant to be eaten. But after I took a huge chunk off of it everyone else did too. The restaurant people were pissed.
Then we decided to go to this bar, Buena Vista, where the first Irish Coffee ever was served. My ex had one, despite the fact that he's lactose intolerant. As we left the bar and were walking back to Nick's car, debating whether or not we were going to go to a club, we were stopped by traffic at a street corner. As we stood there, my ex let out this HUGE fart. I was like oh my god, around people I work with! Then Sam smacked Nick really hard and said "That was SO disgusting!" Nick was like "it wasn't ME!" and she was like "What ever. Why do you always have to do things like that?"
I started laughing and was going to tell her it was my ex, but then she was being such a bitch I didn't. My ex was acting as if nothing had happened, which was making me laugh harder. They argued the rest of the way back to the car.
Then, when we got to the car, and had by that time decided to not go to a club because Sam was being a bitch, I had to climb into the back seat of the stupid mustang. I was wearing stilettos, a short skirt, and no underwear. I had also just had knee surgery and so was having problems balancing. As I went to get into the car my foot got tangled in the seat belt and I ended up falling head first onto the back seat, mooning Sam on my way down. She didn't say anything, but I could tell she wanted to strangle me as I laughed the whole ride home.
The next Monday at work I saw Nick in the gym (we both worked out first thing in the morning). He was not in a good mood. I asked why and he said that he had broken up with Sam. I don't know how much was triggered by the fart and the mooning. I felt bad.
Nick went on to retire and marry some LA lady who is a producer or something (read: super rich). Sam is probably still making guys miserable. And my ex is probably still eating dairy around unsuspecting people.
We had just attended an engineering dinner where we were doubling with my boss, Nick, and his new girlfriend, I think her name was Sam. Nick was driving us around in his mustang. Given the length of my legs, and the narrowness of the back seat of one of those things, I knew disaster was going to strike eventually. And my ex had a tendency to behave badly around my co-workers. The night was a little tense for me.
Anyway, the dinner ended with me getting in trouble for breaking a piece off of a peanut brittle sculpture that apparently was not meant to be eaten. But after I took a huge chunk off of it everyone else did too. The restaurant people were pissed.
Then we decided to go to this bar, Buena Vista, where the first Irish Coffee ever was served. My ex had one, despite the fact that he's lactose intolerant. As we left the bar and were walking back to Nick's car, debating whether or not we were going to go to a club, we were stopped by traffic at a street corner. As we stood there, my ex let out this HUGE fart. I was like oh my god, around people I work with! Then Sam smacked Nick really hard and said "That was SO disgusting!" Nick was like "it wasn't ME!" and she was like "What ever. Why do you always have to do things like that?"
I started laughing and was going to tell her it was my ex, but then she was being such a bitch I didn't. My ex was acting as if nothing had happened, which was making me laugh harder. They argued the rest of the way back to the car.
Then, when we got to the car, and had by that time decided to not go to a club because Sam was being a bitch, I had to climb into the back seat of the stupid mustang. I was wearing stilettos, a short skirt, and no underwear. I had also just had knee surgery and so was having problems balancing. As I went to get into the car my foot got tangled in the seat belt and I ended up falling head first onto the back seat, mooning Sam on my way down. She didn't say anything, but I could tell she wanted to strangle me as I laughed the whole ride home.
The next Monday at work I saw Nick in the gym (we both worked out first thing in the morning). He was not in a good mood. I asked why and he said that he had broken up with Sam. I don't know how much was triggered by the fart and the mooning. I felt bad.
Nick went on to retire and marry some LA lady who is a producer or something (read: super rich). Sam is probably still making guys miserable. And my ex is probably still eating dairy around unsuspecting people.
and I would do it again
One of my favorite farting stories...
I was in Hania, Crete, in a cute little hotel overlooking the harbor. I was there with a guy that I later married (and divorced). It was our first trip together, and the first time we had stayed in the same bed.
It was early morning and the sun was coming through the window because the night before we had forgotten to close the shutters. I was looking out at the boats, feeling groggy, laying on my back trying to decide whether or not I was ready to be awake.
I had woken up because the guy, let's call him X, had woken up. He was (and probably still is) a morning person. He rolled over on his side and started talking to me about a conversation we were having while falling asleep the previous night, but I wasn't really listening, I was still half asleep. The conversation was about how, to have a good relationship, we should be able to tell each other anything, and do anything, without the other person getting pissed or upset.
I vaguely remember him saying something sweet to me, and me smiling, feeling totally relaxed, and then him suddenly rolling right on top of me. I was caught by surprise and accidentally farted really, really loudly. There was a moment of stunned silence from the body laying on top of me, and then X said "I can't BELIEVE you just did that!" I was trying to think of something to say that might bring back the romantic mood, but I was also trying to not laugh. Then he, just as suddenly, rolled off me and that caused me to fart again.
"GOD dammit! You've completely spoiled everything!" he yelled at me, throwing the covers onto my face and storming into the bathroom.
I yelled back at him "But I thought you said last night that we could tell each other anything!" and then proceeded to have an epic giggling fit that continued on the bus ride to Heraklion and while we were touring the temple of Knossos.
He eventually forgave me, married me, and, oddly enough, I never farted for the rest of our time together. He used to say it was because I talked so much the air never had a chance to get down to my intestines. Medically speaking, I don't know if there could be any truth to that.
I was in Hania, Crete, in a cute little hotel overlooking the harbor. I was there with a guy that I later married (and divorced). It was our first trip together, and the first time we had stayed in the same bed.
It was early morning and the sun was coming through the window because the night before we had forgotten to close the shutters. I was looking out at the boats, feeling groggy, laying on my back trying to decide whether or not I was ready to be awake.
I had woken up because the guy, let's call him X, had woken up. He was (and probably still is) a morning person. He rolled over on his side and started talking to me about a conversation we were having while falling asleep the previous night, but I wasn't really listening, I was still half asleep. The conversation was about how, to have a good relationship, we should be able to tell each other anything, and do anything, without the other person getting pissed or upset.
I vaguely remember him saying something sweet to me, and me smiling, feeling totally relaxed, and then him suddenly rolling right on top of me. I was caught by surprise and accidentally farted really, really loudly. There was a moment of stunned silence from the body laying on top of me, and then X said "I can't BELIEVE you just did that!" I was trying to think of something to say that might bring back the romantic mood, but I was also trying to not laugh. Then he, just as suddenly, rolled off me and that caused me to fart again.
"GOD dammit! You've completely spoiled everything!" he yelled at me, throwing the covers onto my face and storming into the bathroom.
I yelled back at him "But I thought you said last night that we could tell each other anything!" and then proceeded to have an epic giggling fit that continued on the bus ride to Heraklion and while we were touring the temple of Knossos.
He eventually forgave me, married me, and, oddly enough, I never farted for the rest of our time together. He used to say it was because I talked so much the air never had a chance to get down to my intestines. Medically speaking, I don't know if there could be any truth to that.
the talented Mr. D
I will preface this dream by mentioning that I watched The Talented Mr. Ripley last night.
Last night I dreamed that my co-author's father (though I have no idea what he looks like in real life, in the dream he looked like the father in TTMR) hired me to go to a college in Calgary because, he said, "my son is causing a huge disruption on the campus, and if you can't stop him he'll be thrown out of school".
So I was given this magic car that could get really big or really small depending on what size I wished it would be. It was this cool shade of blue, kind of like a dark blue but with grey in it.
I got to the campus and found these huge scaffolds all over the quad that had Star Wars action figures on them. People could barely walk around because the scaffolds were every where. I saw my co-author building yet another scaffold. I yelled to him and he came over to my car. I was like "what are you doing?" and he said "I'm building shelves to house my star wars collection". I said "you can't just build them where ever you want because it's causing a disruption on campus". He started to get upset so I said "look, why don't I park my car and you can show me your collection".
So he told me to park in this steeply sloping parking lot, and I started to drive down it but realized there were no spots, and worse, that there was a huge cliff at the end of the parking lot that I almost accidentally drove off. I was really mad at him so I backed my car up and said "no, I need a parking lot that still has spaces and that isn't on a cliff". So then he sent me to this other parking lot that had one tiny space left. I shrank my magic car down to its smallest size but right as I was doing that my co-author made all the cars in the parking lot larger so I was boxed in between all these cars and couldn't move forward or backwards.
Then my co-author's dad appeared on this TV screen inside my car (looked like the TV in Jeffy's FJ) and said "you must become a bicycle!" and I was like "I don't understand" and he said "think about it! think about becoming a bicycle!" So I thought about becoming a bicycle and my car turned into a bicycle. I was like ha ha, now I can get out of the parking lot! I rode the bike up to my co-author and was like "okay, now I need a place to park my bike". I could tell he was irritated that I was able to turn my magic car into a bike. He showed me this white u-shaped stand (like the ones you see in any city) and I chained my bike to it. But as soon as I started to walk away the bike stand turned into a white dog and the dog ran away with my bike. I was like fuck, now how am I going to get home.
Then my co-author started to show me all the scaffolds he created. There was one huge one that I thought was going to fall on me. It had hundreds of these figures that looked like Jesus statues. I was like "what is this?" and he said "This is the main star of star wars. He's the angel of star wars." I was like "No that isn't. It's Jesus. And there was no "angel of star wars"." Then my co-author got mad at me again and said "Yes there was. You just didn't see that version of the movie."
I was starting to think that my co-author was really crazy and that I should call his dad except that a dog had run away with my magic car and I could only communicate with people using the TV screen. Mean while my co-author had walked away and I couldn't see him anymore in the maze of scaffolds. I was afraid the Jesus scaffold was going to fall on me.
Then I woke up.
Last night I dreamed that my co-author's father (though I have no idea what he looks like in real life, in the dream he looked like the father in TTMR) hired me to go to a college in Calgary because, he said, "my son is causing a huge disruption on the campus, and if you can't stop him he'll be thrown out of school".
So I was given this magic car that could get really big or really small depending on what size I wished it would be. It was this cool shade of blue, kind of like a dark blue but with grey in it.
I got to the campus and found these huge scaffolds all over the quad that had Star Wars action figures on them. People could barely walk around because the scaffolds were every where. I saw my co-author building yet another scaffold. I yelled to him and he came over to my car. I was like "what are you doing?" and he said "I'm building shelves to house my star wars collection". I said "you can't just build them where ever you want because it's causing a disruption on campus". He started to get upset so I said "look, why don't I park my car and you can show me your collection".
So he told me to park in this steeply sloping parking lot, and I started to drive down it but realized there were no spots, and worse, that there was a huge cliff at the end of the parking lot that I almost accidentally drove off. I was really mad at him so I backed my car up and said "no, I need a parking lot that still has spaces and that isn't on a cliff". So then he sent me to this other parking lot that had one tiny space left. I shrank my magic car down to its smallest size but right as I was doing that my co-author made all the cars in the parking lot larger so I was boxed in between all these cars and couldn't move forward or backwards.
Then my co-author's dad appeared on this TV screen inside my car (looked like the TV in Jeffy's FJ) and said "you must become a bicycle!" and I was like "I don't understand" and he said "think about it! think about becoming a bicycle!" So I thought about becoming a bicycle and my car turned into a bicycle. I was like ha ha, now I can get out of the parking lot! I rode the bike up to my co-author and was like "okay, now I need a place to park my bike". I could tell he was irritated that I was able to turn my magic car into a bike. He showed me this white u-shaped stand (like the ones you see in any city) and I chained my bike to it. But as soon as I started to walk away the bike stand turned into a white dog and the dog ran away with my bike. I was like fuck, now how am I going to get home.
Then my co-author started to show me all the scaffolds he created. There was one huge one that I thought was going to fall on me. It had hundreds of these figures that looked like Jesus statues. I was like "what is this?" and he said "This is the main star of star wars. He's the angel of star wars." I was like "No that isn't. It's Jesus. And there was no "angel of star wars"." Then my co-author got mad at me again and said "Yes there was. You just didn't see that version of the movie."
I was starting to think that my co-author was really crazy and that I should call his dad except that a dog had run away with my magic car and I could only communicate with people using the TV screen. Mean while my co-author had walked away and I couldn't see him anymore in the maze of scaffolds. I was afraid the Jesus scaffold was going to fall on me.
Then I woke up.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
farts - are they really that funny?
My uncle sent me this. How can you NOT laugh at a story that is head lined "city council meeting interrupted by farts":
http://www.fox8.com/wjw-news-medina-fart,0,2761320.htmlstory
Or maybe something is wrong with me.
http://www.fox8.com/wjw-news-medina-fart,0,2761320.htmlstory
Or maybe something is wrong with me.
naked me
My two favorite naked stories, from college...
The summer before my freshman year my right achilles tendon tore completely off the bone. They put a cast on my leg that went from my hip to my toes. It sucked ass. I had to put this huge yellow rubber thing over it to protect it from water when I showered.
So some bitch girls on my hall thought it was funny to take my towel while I was showering because, what was I going to do, chase them on my crutches? It became an almost weekly event. Normally I would rip down a shower curtain, wrap that around myself, and go to my room, but this one day I decided fuck them, I'm just walking back to my room naked.
I should mention that I lived in a co-ed dorm (Ambler Johnston, location of the first shootings at tech in 2007). I knew I might run into some guys but I was so pissed I didn't care. I went crutching down to my room like a crippled rabid dog, screaming about my fucking towel and beating the shit out of who ever took it.
It was this day that I found out the girl across the hall was mormon. I found this out because her two mormon buddies, who were on that bicycle tour thing they do, had stopped by to see her right around the time I came down the hall. Picture it. I'm sopping wet, on crutches, with a huge cast that has a yellow rubber thing on it, yelling profanities directed generally towards all the girls on my hall. These two guys were looking at me like I was the anti-christ and a porn star rolled into one. The mormon girl screamed and then fainted.
After that, no one ever took my towel.
The other story is from my senior year in college. I was hanging out with my biker friends at a party at an apartment complex. It was a really warm night in the middle of April and we were getting drunk. My friend Omar gets this idea: he and I should take off our clothes and go swimming in the apartment complex pool.
This is the same apartment complex that my friend Brad almost burned down when he got stoned and dropped a flaming newspaper off a balcony onto a hay bale they were using for the grass. Also where another friend was kicked out because he was throwing water balloons at sorority girls walking to a formal. And where my friend Bryan ran me over with my own motorcycle while we were trying to ride it up the stairs from the first to the second floor.
So, naked in the pool...that seemed very tame and acceptable.
We walked down to the pool and took off all of our clothes, except that, and I should have been suspicious about this, Omar did not remove his shoes. I put my toe in the water. The surface was covered with leaves, a bit ick, but the water felt pretty warm. Omar was like "jump in and I'll follow you" so I jumped in.
The water was FUCKING cold. And, worse, I realized as soon as I jumped in that the pool had a tarp over the top of it that had filled with water. I wasn't actually in the pool. I was in a tarp, filled with rotting leaves and other shit, on top of the pool.
Around this time Omar heard sirens and like a typical Egyptian ran off and left the Jew to suffer whatever consequences were to follow. I tried to get out of the pool but I couldn't because the sides of the tarp were so slippery with leaf muck that I couldn't grab on to anything. Also, being really drunk probably wasn't helping.
A cop walked over to the pool with his flashlight. He said "you look like a turtle that flipped over on its back". I was like ha ha, get me the fuck out of here. He pulled me out with his riot baton (back in those days, for the record, they didn't need stuff like that at tech). Right after he got me out of the pool he recognized me because I was teaching self defense classes at dorms and sororities and would often recruit the local police to show up at my classes so the girls would have a real guy to beat up. This kind of sucks, I thought to myself. I was also worried my karate instructor would find out what I did and break my head in half. He is quite omniscient and has emailed or called me at various times in my life when I was about to do something really bad. I don't know how he knows, but he does.
The cop (his name was JC) let me pick up my clothes. He marched me to the squad car. I looked up at the balcony of the apartment where the party was going on and noticed way too many people standing on it watching what was happening. As soon as the cop put me in the back seat of the car, they all went inside.
The cop told me he was going to let me go. He drove the 100 yards or what ever it was, to the building where the party was. He opened the back door for me and I got out of the car and walked up the stairs to the party completely naked. Everyone in the party was clapping. As soon as I walked in the door my friend Bryan threw a bottle of ketchup on me. Then my friend Tawfiq threw barbecue sauce at me. A huge food and beer fight erupted. My last memory of that night is hiding in the shower with Tawfiq waiting for people to stop throwing stuff, and that I was wearing Bryan's robe, and that I hadn't wiped the ketchup and barbecue sauce off before I put his robe on.
And waking up the next morning on the floor of Bryan's room realizing I had stacked a bunch of motorcycle helmets around me, thinking that it would protect me from anyone trying to fuck with me. I ended up getting an ear infection from the water in the pool, and the weather went back to being cold which was depressing.
Bryan is married now, and an accountant. Has kids. No idea what happened to Omar. Tawfiq was working for World Bank in Italy, but I'm not sure where he is now.
The summer before my freshman year my right achilles tendon tore completely off the bone. They put a cast on my leg that went from my hip to my toes. It sucked ass. I had to put this huge yellow rubber thing over it to protect it from water when I showered.
So some bitch girls on my hall thought it was funny to take my towel while I was showering because, what was I going to do, chase them on my crutches? It became an almost weekly event. Normally I would rip down a shower curtain, wrap that around myself, and go to my room, but this one day I decided fuck them, I'm just walking back to my room naked.
I should mention that I lived in a co-ed dorm (Ambler Johnston, location of the first shootings at tech in 2007). I knew I might run into some guys but I was so pissed I didn't care. I went crutching down to my room like a crippled rabid dog, screaming about my fucking towel and beating the shit out of who ever took it.
It was this day that I found out the girl across the hall was mormon. I found this out because her two mormon buddies, who were on that bicycle tour thing they do, had stopped by to see her right around the time I came down the hall. Picture it. I'm sopping wet, on crutches, with a huge cast that has a yellow rubber thing on it, yelling profanities directed generally towards all the girls on my hall. These two guys were looking at me like I was the anti-christ and a porn star rolled into one. The mormon girl screamed and then fainted.
After that, no one ever took my towel.
The other story is from my senior year in college. I was hanging out with my biker friends at a party at an apartment complex. It was a really warm night in the middle of April and we were getting drunk. My friend Omar gets this idea: he and I should take off our clothes and go swimming in the apartment complex pool.
This is the same apartment complex that my friend Brad almost burned down when he got stoned and dropped a flaming newspaper off a balcony onto a hay bale they were using for the grass. Also where another friend was kicked out because he was throwing water balloons at sorority girls walking to a formal. And where my friend Bryan ran me over with my own motorcycle while we were trying to ride it up the stairs from the first to the second floor.
So, naked in the pool...that seemed very tame and acceptable.
We walked down to the pool and took off all of our clothes, except that, and I should have been suspicious about this, Omar did not remove his shoes. I put my toe in the water. The surface was covered with leaves, a bit ick, but the water felt pretty warm. Omar was like "jump in and I'll follow you" so I jumped in.
The water was FUCKING cold. And, worse, I realized as soon as I jumped in that the pool had a tarp over the top of it that had filled with water. I wasn't actually in the pool. I was in a tarp, filled with rotting leaves and other shit, on top of the pool.
Around this time Omar heard sirens and like a typical Egyptian ran off and left the Jew to suffer whatever consequences were to follow. I tried to get out of the pool but I couldn't because the sides of the tarp were so slippery with leaf muck that I couldn't grab on to anything. Also, being really drunk probably wasn't helping.
A cop walked over to the pool with his flashlight. He said "you look like a turtle that flipped over on its back". I was like ha ha, get me the fuck out of here. He pulled me out with his riot baton (back in those days, for the record, they didn't need stuff like that at tech). Right after he got me out of the pool he recognized me because I was teaching self defense classes at dorms and sororities and would often recruit the local police to show up at my classes so the girls would have a real guy to beat up. This kind of sucks, I thought to myself. I was also worried my karate instructor would find out what I did and break my head in half. He is quite omniscient and has emailed or called me at various times in my life when I was about to do something really bad. I don't know how he knows, but he does.
The cop (his name was JC) let me pick up my clothes. He marched me to the squad car. I looked up at the balcony of the apartment where the party was going on and noticed way too many people standing on it watching what was happening. As soon as the cop put me in the back seat of the car, they all went inside.
The cop told me he was going to let me go. He drove the 100 yards or what ever it was, to the building where the party was. He opened the back door for me and I got out of the car and walked up the stairs to the party completely naked. Everyone in the party was clapping. As soon as I walked in the door my friend Bryan threw a bottle of ketchup on me. Then my friend Tawfiq threw barbecue sauce at me. A huge food and beer fight erupted. My last memory of that night is hiding in the shower with Tawfiq waiting for people to stop throwing stuff, and that I was wearing Bryan's robe, and that I hadn't wiped the ketchup and barbecue sauce off before I put his robe on.
And waking up the next morning on the floor of Bryan's room realizing I had stacked a bunch of motorcycle helmets around me, thinking that it would protect me from anyone trying to fuck with me. I ended up getting an ear infection from the water in the pool, and the weather went back to being cold which was depressing.
Bryan is married now, and an accountant. Has kids. No idea what happened to Omar. Tawfiq was working for World Bank in Italy, but I'm not sure where he is now.
Joe gets a surprise courtesy of the Town Pump
Yesterday I got the following email from Joe and laughed so hard I choked on my yerba mate:
"Good thing we did have two eggs left over for pancakes.
I am making lunch and was about to use those two we bought at the Town Pump.
Turns out they are hard boiled. And you thought I was so skilled to not break them when I put them in my down coat pocket...
Guess I need to reconsider what I'm having for lunch."
Though, I'm curious. What could one possibly make for lunch that would require eggs? Cupcakes, maybe? I wish someone was making me cupcakes for lunch today.
"Good thing we did have two eggs left over for pancakes.
I am making lunch and was about to use those two we bought at the Town Pump.
Turns out they are hard boiled. And you thought I was so skilled to not break them when I put them in my down coat pocket...
Guess I need to reconsider what I'm having for lunch."
Though, I'm curious. What could one possibly make for lunch that would require eggs? Cupcakes, maybe? I wish someone was making me cupcakes for lunch today.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
pac men and pizza
Last night I had a dream that I hired a guide to climb Denali, and when the guide showed up it was Angelina Jolie, only she was a lot taller than in real life.
We started walking on this path that was surrounded on both sides with these beautiful rose bushes and I was following behind her when she suddenly said "we have to find a place to hide!" I was like "why?" and she said "the rollers are coming!" She pushed me into this huge bush and told me to lay on my side and not move.
A few seconds later these creatures that looked like pac man came rolling down the trail. They were eating all the rose bushes that lined the trail. I couldn't see any teeth on them but they were obviously sharp because they were ripping the bushes to shreds. I became afraid they were going to eat me. They had eyes like a great white and every time they bit a rose bush their eyes would roll back. Angelina whispered "why the fuck did you have to wear that pack?" because I was wearing a bright blue pack and she was afraid the rollers would see me. Although, she had a bright red pack. I thought it was an unfair thing to say.
After the rollers ate the bushes these roses would start growing all over them and then they couldn't roll any more so they would come to a stop and fall asleep. After they started falling asleep Angelina waved me towards a big rock. I stayed on one side of the rock and set up my tent and she was on the other side of the rock. I couldn't see her but I could hear her voice.
I was like "is it over?" and she said "no, now the sheeshes are coming". I didn't know what those were so I crawled into my tent and then looked out the flap to see what would happen next.
These worm-snake like creatures came racing down the hill and started climbing all over the pac men as they were sleeping. I was like "what are they doing?" and Angelina said "they're eating the parasites". I was like huh. Then more creatures started coming down the hill. There were these dark blue triangle creatures that kept flying into the trees and sticking there like darts. There were also green ovals that were like gnats flying in a swarm and making a bad noise like bees. I thought "now we're never going to get to climb Denali". And then I woke up.
It was 430 in the morning so I read an article and then went back to sleep. This time I dreamed I was staying in Gadd's house, but it was in France and had red tiles on the roof. I was out on the patio smoking a cigarette when I heard Gadd come home with a friend. I ran down to the basement when I heard them go down there.
The basement had the room I was sleeping in and a big bar, like a restaurant bar. There were sliding glass doors going outside so the basement had a lot of light in it. Gadd was showing his friend the latest climbing magazine, which featured his daughter. She was 2 in the pictures but was climbing this huge wall in Tanzania. She was wearing a blue suit like ski racers wear.
While Gadd was showing his friend the magazine I was trying to sneak behind the bar without him noticing. He kept talking to me and I was answering him without looking at him. I was trying to get to the bar refrigerator where I had hidden a pizza. I was worried that Gadd and his friend would find my pizza and eat it. I pulled it out of the refrigerator and put newspapers on top of it. Then I started to casually walk out of the basement. But then Gadd was like "hey, I'm in that paper!" and grabbed it off the top of the pizza. I was like shit. And he said "oh, is that a pepperoni pizza?" I started to run up the stairs with the pizza but Gadd and his friend tackled me by grabbing my legs.
Then I woke up.
We started walking on this path that was surrounded on both sides with these beautiful rose bushes and I was following behind her when she suddenly said "we have to find a place to hide!" I was like "why?" and she said "the rollers are coming!" She pushed me into this huge bush and told me to lay on my side and not move.
A few seconds later these creatures that looked like pac man came rolling down the trail. They were eating all the rose bushes that lined the trail. I couldn't see any teeth on them but they were obviously sharp because they were ripping the bushes to shreds. I became afraid they were going to eat me. They had eyes like a great white and every time they bit a rose bush their eyes would roll back. Angelina whispered "why the fuck did you have to wear that pack?" because I was wearing a bright blue pack and she was afraid the rollers would see me. Although, she had a bright red pack. I thought it was an unfair thing to say.
After the rollers ate the bushes these roses would start growing all over them and then they couldn't roll any more so they would come to a stop and fall asleep. After they started falling asleep Angelina waved me towards a big rock. I stayed on one side of the rock and set up my tent and she was on the other side of the rock. I couldn't see her but I could hear her voice.
I was like "is it over?" and she said "no, now the sheeshes are coming". I didn't know what those were so I crawled into my tent and then looked out the flap to see what would happen next.
These worm-snake like creatures came racing down the hill and started climbing all over the pac men as they were sleeping. I was like "what are they doing?" and Angelina said "they're eating the parasites". I was like huh. Then more creatures started coming down the hill. There were these dark blue triangle creatures that kept flying into the trees and sticking there like darts. There were also green ovals that were like gnats flying in a swarm and making a bad noise like bees. I thought "now we're never going to get to climb Denali". And then I woke up.
It was 430 in the morning so I read an article and then went back to sleep. This time I dreamed I was staying in Gadd's house, but it was in France and had red tiles on the roof. I was out on the patio smoking a cigarette when I heard Gadd come home with a friend. I ran down to the basement when I heard them go down there.
The basement had the room I was sleeping in and a big bar, like a restaurant bar. There were sliding glass doors going outside so the basement had a lot of light in it. Gadd was showing his friend the latest climbing magazine, which featured his daughter. She was 2 in the pictures but was climbing this huge wall in Tanzania. She was wearing a blue suit like ski racers wear.
While Gadd was showing his friend the magazine I was trying to sneak behind the bar without him noticing. He kept talking to me and I was answering him without looking at him. I was trying to get to the bar refrigerator where I had hidden a pizza. I was worried that Gadd and his friend would find my pizza and eat it. I pulled it out of the refrigerator and put newspapers on top of it. Then I started to casually walk out of the basement. But then Gadd was like "hey, I'm in that paper!" and grabbed it off the top of the pizza. I was like shit. And he said "oh, is that a pepperoni pizza?" I started to run up the stairs with the pizza but Gadd and his friend tackled me by grabbing my legs.
Then I woke up.
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