Chapter 2 of my new book

I changed corm crisps to cringle crisps. Still not perfect but good enough that I was finally able to write again. Also, chapter 1 title changed to The Giant Man Discovers a Croco-diamond in His Hammock.

Chapter 2:  The Giant Man Makes a Plan of Action

The croco-diamond popped the last bit of cananacot in his mouth. “Delicious!” he said to the giant man. “Did you grow that on this farm?”

“I grow everything on the farm and then sell it at the market. I like to work outdoors.”

“And you live here alone?” asked the croco-diamond, noticing, now that the sun was fully up, that the giant man’s house, while well made, was, to be honest, a little dirty.

“I’ve lived here alone for a long time.”

The croco-diamond thought about that. He had never been alone. Croco-diamonds travel together so there’s always someone to eat with or to have a nap with or to talk with. That was why he had gone to the swamp, to be with the other croco-diamonds.

But he hated the swamp. It didn’t smell very nice and the food was NOT good. His nails were always getting mucky. There was no where to buy cotton squares. He spent most of his days cleaning swamp mud from his jewels. Finally he had decided to leave, which is how he came to the giant man’s house.

Normally, after a fruit dish, which croco-diamonds serve as the last course of a holiday meal, everyone would retire to a large field and tell the stories of their jewels. Each croco-diamond had a unique set of jewels, some won from dueling with pirates, others bestowed for valor, a few given as payment for scholarly works, and the rest handed down through the generations. All of the croco-diamond’s star garnets were inherited from his father, who had received them as payment for a series of books he had written about engine design. Croco-diamonds can be very mechanically inclined when they aren’t being lazy.

But the giant man had no jewels to tell stories about. That made the croco-diamond feel bored. He thought about returning to the purple hammock for some sleep. But the giant man had other ideas.

“What we are going to do now is go out in the field and pick some more cringle roots. Then we will go into the kitchen and make the cringle crisps. I think we can make at least two bushels before market. I have some gloves you can borrow.”

At first the croco-diamond was not sure at all that he wanted to go into a field to do manual labor. The giant man watched as the croco-diamond lowered his snout and made a “kkkech, bleccch” noise. He wrapped his tail around his body and looked as if he would turn into a giant ball and bounce away.

So the giant man said “I suppose no croco-diamond before has ever picked cringle roots. You would be the first. And it isn’t easy. It requires a person of enormous intelligence who has a sense of adventure. With your dexterity it’s possible that you will be the best cringle picker ever in all of the worlds. But…maybe cringle picking isn’t right for you.”

The croco-diamond raised his snout up. Of course he would be the best. In fact, he would probably have to give the giant man a few suggestions on technique.

So they went into the field. In fact, the croco-diamond was much faster at picking than the giant man. Being lower to the ground, with his long nails, he could easily pull the cringle roots that had turned purple, meaning they were ripe, out of the ground.

The giant man had to bend down 20 feet to the dirt where the cringle roots were. He would stick his big fingers in the dirt, fumbling because the cringle roots were much smaller than his fingers. Because of his height it was hard to see the ground, so he would have to bend even lower, saying “oof, my back”, to make sure he only picked ripe cringle roots.

The croco-diamond was able to pick 10 cringle roots in the time the giant man picked just one. Though he was later heard to brag that he picked 20 in the time the giant man picked one that only happened after he had been picking them for a week.

Because the croco-diamond was faster at picking the giant man busied himself making the cringle crisps. In less than two hours they were ready to go to market with five baskets of cringle crisps.

They put the baskets in the giant man’s ticky tap tap. And although there was room for the croco-diamond to sit in the front seat he decided instead that he wanted to sit in the ticky tap tap bed with the cringle crisps. The giant man strung the hammock up in the bed.

“You see, this is how my people travel,” the croco-diamond told the giant man as he climbed into the hammock (with a little help from the giant man, who made a step with his hand). “I am used to being carried in a royal litter by eight sloth toed land fish. A flamencio bird walks in front with a basket of flower petals to mark my arrival.” The croco-diamond looked around hopefully, but there were no flamencio birds or sloth toed land fish to be seen anywhere. “You do at least have flower petals? Red is my color but what ever you have on hand will do.”

The giant man worriedly scanned his yard. No red flower petals. The closest thing he had was a daisy oops bush and that wouldn’t flower for another month.

“I have an idea! I saw it in a book! I can tie red streamers to the front of the car. That way everyone will know there is a very important person in the car.”

The croco-diamond genteelly nodded his head in agreement. Quickly the giant man tore the red bandana he wore around his neck into strips. The streamers were attached to the bumper and they were off to the market.

As the giant man drove he could hear, from the back of the ticky tap tap, a muffled “crunch crunch”. But when he looked in the rear view mirror the croco-diamond always pretended to be asleep.

live from the murder capital of the US

Walking to work...yeah, that was a little scary. I thought I might be losing my urban edge since my neighborhood is becoming gentrified but when I told my customer I walked to work (and from the subway station to my hotel) he said "you're a braver man than I am". I like it when my customers refer to me as a guy. Because obviously women can't be technical.

I did not know that St. Louis is the murder capital of the US. My customer was teasing me because that market I went to on Sunday...two people were shot there a few days ago.

Of course, this chemist guy I'm working with said to my customer "I don't know why you're worried about her getting shot". I was like "why since this is the murder capital of the world?" and he said "we are the floor above the lab where we make cyanide". Hm. I was like "real cyanide?" and he said "yes, you would die if it explodes".

My customer said "stop trying to scare her" and the chemist, as soon as my customer left the room, said "we also make autistic mice".

I had a lot of fun with this customer. I'm glad I'm coming back here in 10 days. Seriously!

licorice babies

I'm trying to find an exotic food that I can use to replace corm crisps in my story, because everyone in my writer's group said the name sucked.

I started googling the foods I like in hopes of inspiration. I went to a page called Licorice International to look at different kinds of licorice. They had a link to canadian licorice so I clicked on it (when I was in Calgary they only had crap licorice in the grocery store).

Licorice babies. WTF? They remind me of the dead kids in that Denver International Airport painting (you have to scroll down to the section called Part 2 to see the painting).

Seriously, who would eat these?????

staying on the road...to nowhere

Ech. Why do I listen to those idiot sales people?

A sales guy was supposed to join me today in St. Louis for this week's engagement. He said he would rent the car to save money. Of course he bailed at the last minute but said not to worry about getting a car because public transport was convenient and I could walk to the customer site.

So here I am, on the edge of St. Louis, stuck in a neighborhood where, as I was leaving to walk to a market at 330 today to get cokes, I was warned by the guy behind the front desk to not be out after dark. I said "I did live in downtown Baltimore for 3 years" thinking the staff thought I was some white bread suburban dweller. He said "Then you know what I'm talking about". Hm.

To get here I took the subway from the airport. That was straightforward and easy. I had mapquested walking directions to my hotel. It was only a 2 mile walk and even though I was carrying everything I thought it would be good exercise.

The subway let me off at a station called "Union Station", which I pictured to be like NYC. Instead it's a station on the outskirts of the city. I was following my directions, which took me into a train yard (yes, a train yard, my nephew Michael would have been psyched). I had to walk through the train yard because the street was actually a freeway with no safe shoulder.

After the train yard I walked through 2 low income housing projects, down an 8 lane street (no traffic), and through a park surrounded by a scary black wrought iron fence (deserted, I expected to be murdered any minute as the sky darkened with clouds and the dead leaves blew across the grass in a menacing mold tide - I am totally allergic to dead leaves).

Finally, when it seemed I could not walk any further without running out of city I arrived at my hotel. It's surrounded by a big security fence. I hit the intercom and the guy at the front desk, who had me on camera, was like "where's your car????" I said "I walked here from the subway" and he was like "girl, you best get on in here and we'll take care of you".

The market I went to to get cokes, btw, was just a glassed in building with an outer room. You point to what you want through the  bullet proof glass (at least that's what the sign advertised) and they get it and after you pay (through a sliding metal tray) they put your purchases in a sliding metal box and slide them out to you. There was a line but I was like "I'm paying cash!" (everyone else was paying with these welfare cards that limit what you can purchase - the woman next to me was trying to cut a deal with the cashier, offering to give her cash off her welfare card on top of the purchase price so she could buy cigarettes - the woman behind the bullet proof glass was like "you know you can't get no cash offa them cards - shit, go buy your stuff somewhere else" - I gave the woman cash for the cigarettes, Marlboro Menthols - fuck it, I'm on corporate welfare) so I got to skip to the front of the line.

When I see that sales guy next I'm going to kick him in the balls. I had to order pizza for delivery for dinner because when I asked the guy at the front desk a few minutes ago if it would be safe to walk 2 1/2 miles to a deli (which, from the write up, is pretty famous for their food) he was like "Naw, you can't walk there in the dark unless you got a car. You best stay inside here with us" (then handed me the pizza menu).

I had to include what he said in this blog because I'm still laughing about it.

Reminds me of the time when I stayed in a shit hole hotel near Miami airport. I started to walk across the street to a cuban restaurant and gunfire broke out a block down the street. I ran back to the hotel security gate and was like "let me back in!" The guard yanked me in the gate and was like "I wondered what you were doing going out there" and I said "I was just going to walk across the street to get food".

He was like "If you want to walk use the hotel treadmill". Of course, I had a car on that engagement...

giant man

I read my first chapter today with my writing group. Everyone liked it! Continuing with the writing...

And I start my screen play class next Saturday!

new chairs - in situ!!!!

I think they look amazing!!!!!!!!!!!!

it wasn't me, it was a ghost

Tonight I had pizza with my friend Cam and told her about the hot sauce incident. She said it wasn't me, it was a ghost.

the first chapter of my new book "the corm crisp caper"

Yes, it's a kid's book. And no, it isn't easier to write even though I thought it would be. Only did 7 pages in three hours, but that included editing...

Chapter 1:  The Giant Man Meets a Croco-diamond & Makes a Plan of Action

One morning, as the sun was just rising, the giant man woke up to the sound of crunching. It was not normal crunching. It was very loud crunching.

He sat up in bed and peered out the window of his attic bedroom down to the courtyard below. There he saw in the growing light a croco-diamond lying on his back in the purple hammock. He had a round light green belly covered in corm crumbs, polished nails at the end of his webbed feet, and thick teeth covered in patterned white gold. Down his spine was a sparkling array of aspen diamonds, cardentine emeralds, star garnets, marlonian opals and a De Le Va Dorn ruby once owned by a real King. In each foot were 5 corm crisps which the croco-diamond daintily placed in his mouth before snapping his snout shut with a loud munch and chomp.

Beside the croco-diamond was the basket of corm crisps the giant man had made just the previous day. The basket was almost empty.

The giant man was puzzled for two reasons. The first – no one had seen a croco-diamond in years. They had moved deep into the swamp because fortune hunters would remove the jewels that made up the spines of the croco-diamonds while the croco-diamonds were sleeping (they sleep very deeply). The second – though croco-diamonds are known to eat mash pies, squiggle salads, applecorn buns, broccolintine casseroles, eggy guild torts, okre berry soup, and jellied can cakes they had never been seen eating corm crisps.

“Delightful morning!” called the croco-diamond, spying the giant man at his window. “I shall rest here for a bit and then I must to do something with these nails. A warm bath would be wonderful. Do you have any bubbles?”

“Just a minute, I’m coming down,” said the giant man, proceeding to put on his robe and walk down the narrow staircase from the attic, careful to duck his head to avoid the ceiling. Arriving in the courtyard he found the croco-diamond brushing the crumbs from his belly with an elegant but worn cotton square. He put the last corm crisp in his mouth and then looked at the front of his feet.

“I had such a nice pair of gloves for my trip, seem to have misplaced them and walking on tile is so hard on the nails…” The croco-diamond stopped speaking because he noticed the giant man was staring at the path behind him that led from the courtyard out to a barn. The path was strewn with baskets. Empty baskets.

“Five, six, seven… Eight! Nine!” said the giant man to himself, counting the baskets. The croco-diamond covered the front of his snout and burped into the cotton square.

“My corm crisps! All of my corm crisps!”

“I was hungry. Sometimes I do eat too much.” The croco-diamond wiggled his tail in an attempt to sit up. The attempt failed. “And now it’s hopeless. I’m afraid I’m stuck in this hammock.” His snout sagged open and a small trail of drool dropped to his tummy. “Perhaps I’ll have a bath later instead of now.” His eyes started to close and he yawned a big croco-diamond yawn.

“But you’ve eaten all of my corm crisps! All of them!”

At this the croco-diamond’s sleepy eyes suddenly opened, and with a great effort he managed to roll over onto his right side so he could more easily see the giant man.

“I don’t understand. Is there…a problem?”

“Of course there’s a problem! I sell corm crisps every Thursday at the market. Now there’s nothing to sell!”

The croco-diamond blinked and then stared at the tall figure in front of him flapping his bath robed arms around at the empty baskets. Due to his large size, strong teeth, well polished nails, and general aura of royalty, no one had ever yelled at the croco-diamond before. He was unsure what to do. A feeling of sadness replaced the happy feeling of just moments before from having eaten nine baskets of corm crisps. He put his front foot to his face and pressed it against the side of his snout.

“I just…I just don’t know what to say,” he sniffed. His large tail thumped down dully onto the hammock and his rear feet curled into tight balls of webbing.

The giant man realized the croco-diamond was going to start crying. And the worst thing is when a croco-diamond cries. First it goes “sniff sniff” and the eyes get a sad gleam. Then the croco-diamond makes a noise like “kak, kak”, clearing the lungs. One, then two egg shaped tears will roll down his cheeks, followed by a lowly murmured “neuuuuuuuu!” Sobs follow.

Croco-diamonds have a large supply of tears and can cry for a month without stopping except to eat and polish their nails (very difficult to do through a curtain of tears but somehow they manage). The giant man had once heard the story of a croco-diamond that cried so much, for so long, that the croco-diamond’s snout had to buy an umbrella and galoshes.

“Oh no. Don’t. No don’t do that. It’s okay. Don’t cry. Please. Don’t cry!” pleaded the giant man as the croco-diamond’s chest puffed forward and his front feet covered his face. “It’s…it’s okay. We…we’ll make some more corm crisps. With two of us…it’s…it won’t take long. Please don’t cry.” The giant man flapped his arms even faster in his robe. “Oh please please please! Please don’t cry!”

The croco-diamond thought for a moment, noticed his chipped nails again, and decided it would be best to delay his tears, at least for the moment. He stared at his front feet, and then his back feet, uncurling them and then wiggling each webbed digit nervously. Was he supposed to apologize now? Croco-diamonds don’t like to apologize.

“They had such a nice zing and a delicious crunch and I hadn’t eaten except for a tiny pot of cactar jam, it dries out the throat you know…” The croco-diamond coughed a tiny cough and put his snout almost to his belly. No, he wasn’t going to apologize.

The giant man sighed. He knew there was no point in yelling. So he said “I’m going to get dressed and make some breakfast. You should join me at least for some fruit because jam and corm crisps are not a balanced diet. After breakfast we will discuss what to do next. We need a plan of action!”

spontaneous stochasticity

My dad and I have had a lot of conversations about turbulence as it relates to air and flying planes. In the latest issue of the JHU Engineering magazine they had a really cool article about a researcher at Whiting School of Engineering. Using fluid dynamics scientists can predict where a particle will end up in a calmly flowing creek (smooth velocity). But once you introduce turbulence they can't predict where the particle will end up, even when the turbulence is reduced to being almost negligible. That's called spontaneous stochasticity.

Why do you care? Because that's how scientists predict formation of stars and solar flares. Solar flares disrupt power and communication networks. They can also effect the earth's magnetic field, which means we are exposed to radiation from space.

Lead shielding anyone?

I also liked the article because the researcher disproved a theory called flux freezing that never really worked. I like it when someone is proven wrong after they've suggested a theory that doesn't work (makes me feel better when I argue with people at work because what they're telling me makes no sense).

And NPR says that a brain over 45 is already almost past its prime. Hah.

so much for my new laptop

I'm returning my new laptop. Why? This will make you laugh.

I submitted an IT request to get my new computer imaged so I can use it for work. My buddy Harry called me and told me:

• I can't use a personally purchased laptop for work without my manager's approval (???? if the guy won't approve for me to buy a new laptop why would they think he wouldn't approve me to buy my own laptop?) but Harry wasn't sure in what medium the approval had to come (email, form, whatever)
• My laptop type was on the list of approved list of laptops that those people who are allowed to upgrade can upgrade to (those would be the sales people, who, yeah, need an amazing laptop so they can watch youtube videos while they sit in the back of my class) but the model number of my new laptop was not on the list (the model number is this arcane thing that tells them what month and year my laptop was built though the year itself corresponds to other number which I thought was a model number but is instead the model name - even though it's a number) so they won't image my laptop. Which is stupid. How different can 4 laptops with varying model numbers be? Are they really making major changes every month they release a new laptop?
• Harry couldn't find the list of approved model numbers for laptops so I could swap my new laptop for one of the approved laptops when I return it. He clicked on 10 links, cursed, clicked some more, finally went out to google (my company's web search sucks on the internal site - everyone uses google to find stuff), found a promising link, but the page was down. So now I don't know which model laptop I can purchase that will be supported by IT.
• If I am finally approved for a laptop refresh I'm stuck with Windows XP "because that's what you have now" according to Harry. I have to set up my new laptop, wait at least two weeks, and then apply for a Windows 7 reimage. One of the other reasons for upgrading my laptop is to take advantage of 64 bit computing so I don't have to wake up every 3 hours while I'm uploading customer data to start the next upload (it takes me 3 hours to upload a 32,000 row spreadsheet - I can do the same upload in Windows 7 64-bit in 15 minutes - I don't waste consulting time with my customer uploading because it locks up my whole computer - I have to do it when I get home at night, one of the reasons I work so much). I have never, in any company I've worked for, heard of such a fucking stupid policy. Since 1992, every time I've gotten a new computer it's always had the latest software on it.

I could almost forgive this insanity if I worked for a stupid hippie commune run by luddites with liberal arts degrees. But, no. We are an IT company that makes hardware and software. 

I would cry but instead I'm going to pet my new fluffy fleece boots and pretend they are a cat (well, I'm going to put waterproofing on them anyway) while watching the last episode of an interesting documentary called The Farmer's Wife.  They would probably look at my life and laugh at what I consider stress.

I will be a jedi in a future life

People are always worried about their past lives, like my friend who thinks she has expensive taste in jewelry because she was once a princess. But I'm always worried about my future lives. Sometimes I think "I work for this re re company because in a future life I'm going to be a general that has to lead an army of weapon toting morons to save the planet".

And my brother sent me this link in reference to the hot sauce incident:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q3hn6fFTxeo

Maybe I'll be a jedi in a future life.

and you make more money than me?????

On a final note, file this one under "sales people make more money than me????"

I was on a conference call with my customer for next week, joined of course by a pack of 4 sales people all salivating at potential $$$ and not doing much other than cluttering the call with white noise as I tried to find out more info from my client (I love it when they do things like order a burrito without putting the phone on mute - glad you're eating mexican while I'm working!). The customer was telling me how a sales guy was telling him about a new architecture framework called PEEF and how he was thinking to use it.

I was like "PEEF?" and he said "yeah it stands for..." and of course he couldn't remember. One of the sales guys, Mr. Idiot let's call him, made a condescending comment to me because I had not heard of the framework. He spelled it out "PEEF" and then said "Look, I'll google it for you" as if I'm incapable of doing same. I googled it and I'm sure everyone else did.

The framework is actually PEAF, not PEEF. Here were the results for PEEF:

PEEF, the Christmas Bear

and


PEEF, urban dictionary:

"A peef is a penis fart, similar to a queef. A queef is to a female as a peef is to a male.

There have been very few recorded incidences of peefs. However, we do know that a peef is both pleasant and painful for the 'peefer'. No incidences of a 'wet peef' have ever been recorded.

On a related note, the peef has much militaristic potential. Theoretically, with the proper enhancements and adjustments, the peef could become powerful enough to replace nuclear warfare.

Example 1:

Vendor: I peefed at the dinner table.

Example 2:

Pierce: I tried to peef, but blood came out instead. "

The urban dictionary reference comes up first. An embarrassed silence descended on the call.

And, are you goddamn kidding about PEEF the christmas bear? That thing is ugly.

bigger, and hopefully better

My new laptop is so much bigger than the piece of crap my company bought for me. I'm hoping it's a lot better too! I'm going to upgrade to 8 gigs of RAM after the battery charges. My laptop will be so fast it will be done with work before I even start working.

my old laptop live, next to my new laptop which is 2 inches wider

Because he can sometimes be a poop (it's a wonder I lend him movies) my UPS man just said "that thing weighs more than you do". He also made fun of me trying to put it into my backpack (had to take the padding out to fit it).

Ha. He's just jealous.

hybrid sharks!!!!

Exciting exciting exciting!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Scientists have found the first hybrid sharks!!!!

What do you mean who cares??? I care. Why? Because sharks have traditionally been thought by scientists to adapt slowly to changes in their environment (check out the megalodon - looks a lot like a great white). That means that as the oceans get warmer and those shitbag Japanese keep finning sharks the species will die out quickly. Mahmood Shivji who works at the Guy Harvey Research Institute was one of the first scientists to use DNA analysis to show shark populations have distinct genetics within specific ocean basins.

But if they are interbreeding they have a shot at survival. Sad how most of the sharks caught these days are young. That means they are killed before breeding. That means less sharks. And since sharks are the trashmen (and trashwomen) of the ocean, it's going to have a terrible impact if they disappear.

So breed with abandon sharks! I know my Pacific great whites think that Australian great whites have a weird accents but go with it!

So you think the only good shark is a dead shark? Here's a surprise for you...

Juliet Eilperin has written a good (three stars) book about sharks and shark conservation called Demon Fish (for the shark but not science inclined Devil's Teeth is better). A great study she cites in her book (Trends in Ecology and Evolution) shows that the eco-system works much more efficiently and naturally when the apex predators are healthy. The study cites the example of Prince William Sound in Alaska. With sharks to eat harbor seals the harbor seals forage in shallower water and that keeps the walleye pollack population intact. In Shark Bay, Australia, tiger sharks keep sea turtles from overgrazing the sea grass habitat. The study was primarily authored by a scientist with the eclectic name Boris Worm. He says "Sharks are being kind of the 'cop on the street' in the ecosystem".

Sharks...

Ach. I am interrupted. My UPS guy just brought my new computer and he wants me to open the box and show it to him. More on sharks later.

I fly hot sauce?

Okay, file this one under the annals of "are you fucking kidding me?"

But truly, I'm not. And there was a witness.

My friend Kev and I met at this Irish pub in Littleton (had to go to the 'burbs because it was only fair to meet in a place half way between my house and Kev's house). It was kind of not so great so we went to a Denver Writer's hangout about a half mile away.

It was in that place that something fucking weird happened.

We had just finished eating (Kev had fish & chips, he's a veg now, and I had tuna sashimi, perhaps the mercury is turning me into the mad hatter) and I had just finished telling Kev how my intuition (some people say I'm psychic) has been off the charts the past two months. I was staring down at the table when suddenly I looked up because there was a clatter to my right. We were at a table against the wall; there was a bar about 7 feet to our right. The table we were sitting at was not big. I could see the entire surface even staring down at the table.

Somehow the hot sauce (I know, this sounds insane) had flown from our table, from its little holding pen against the wall with the salt, pepper, mustard, ketchup, and what ever other shit they had in there, across the 7 feet to the bar, and had landed under a bar stool.

I was like "dude, how did that happen?"

He was like "Maybe it was placed in this holder some weird way and...something happened...and it flew over there."

To rub it in, Kev was like "why don't you levitate this object with your mind?" a few more times during the course of the evening.

Weird. I am not making this up. Kev, if you read this, say I'm not crazy. Because seriously dude, that was fucking crazy.

the triple agent

I'm almost done reading a non-fiction book called The Triple Agent. It's about this Jordanian dude who becomes a terrorist, is flipped by Mukhabarat (with support from the CIA), infiltrates Al-Qaeda, and ends up killing his handlers. Joby Warrick is an amazing writer. Highly recommend this book to anyone interested in terrorism. You can read the first chapter for free on amazon.

another new year

Really?

Yawn.

I know some people get excited...but I spent last night on my couch watching the merchant of venice. I went to bed at 10 PM. I have a hard time getting myself psyched to go out these days. Mostly because I get bored and it ends up being a waste of time. And the guys I meet are less interesting than my versa climber (which includes a computer with programs and race mode, to be fair).

Am I too picky? I think I'm not picky enough. And yet a lot of guys that have nothing in common with me think I should date them. Here are some of my top pet peeves about guys:

• The financial shit show - I'm not a materialistic person. But I think how a person manages their money says a lot about them. I appreciate that some people have encountered hard times outside of their control (e.g. psycho ex wife trying to bilk you for everything you have). But I'm done financing boyfriends. And I don't like materialistic guys either. If you plan on making fun of my car Jake because he's 10 years old you should also plan on me kicking you in the nuts. He might have a lot of miles on him but unlike most guys he still looks good.
• The cartoon guy - No, I haven's seen avatar or cars or wall-e. And my life is too short to do that. If I wanted to watch kids movies I would have had kids. We'll never agree on netflix so I wouldn't bother with you. Some women might find child like qualities in a man attractive. I'm not that woman.
• The tv watcher - I hate watching tv. If you were George Clooney I still wouldn't watch tv with you.
• The non-reader (or reader of stupid books) - I read Stephen King when I was in high school. When guys don't read or read dumb things it implies to me they aren't that intellectually engaged. That makes me bored.
• The clinger - I am busy and forced to socialize for my job all the time. I don't really like to socialize with strangers. I need downtime from my job. And that downtime doesn't involve me expending energy I don't have to spend time with someone clingy. I don't like to talk on the phone, I don't want to go to your boring family outings, I don't want to sit around a bar with your friends to watch football, I don't want to chat with you at night because you miss me while I'm on the road. Is it not bad enough my clients email me 24/7? At least they pay to talk to me.
• The controller - I hate it when guys are like "call me tonight". I'll call you when I get around to it. Or when they try to dictate my schedule. If I tell you I only have 2 hours to spend with you that means 2 hours. Not negotiable. If you argue with me you won't be spending any time with me.
• The breeder - I don't have kids because I like to do what I want to do. If you had kids that's your choice. Don't expect me to take care of your kids. Or hang out with your kids. Or re-arrange my schedule because your psycho ex-wife decides to switch baby sitting nights with you. In fact, if you have kids, don't even try to hang out with me.
• The bad story teller - After you've told me the same story about some stupid shit you did in college with your friends don't act surprised that I look bored. Worse, if it takes you a half hour to tell a 5 minute story don't be surprised when I start avoiding you. If you aren't a good story teller we aren't going to have much to talk about. And if you suck at telling stories practice with your friends until you get the skill down. I'm not a story coach.
• The non-adventurist - You really don't own a tent? Or hike or ski? Or climb? Or do something interesting? Ech.
• The depressive - Boo hoo. Call me when you're off the meds.

I really fault hollywood for a lot of guys' non-guyness. Like, am I the only one who watched sideways and wanted to punch every male character in the movie? 

Right then. This is the year where I don't compromise and give chances to guys that I know are a waste of my time. Which works out with my training schedule...more time with my versa climber.

new chairs!

My new chairs! I pick them up next Saturday!

my new chairs?????

I was just checking out Design Within Reach. I love that furniture store. Half my furniture is from there. And I found these chairs. Of course, they're back ordered 14 - 16 weeks...

But I really like them. I would get two of each color. They're modern looking, I think the color will accent the table nicely, and they're cool.

Here's some new pics of my table. I think the chairs will go nicely with the carpet too.

Too bad the chairs I really want cost $1,200 each. Ech.

new year is almost here...

Since I did such a crap job last year keeping my new year's resolutions (better work/life balance, making climbing a priority, spending more time socializing with friends) I've decided to get a jump start on the new year.

The first thing I did was collect all the information I need for taxes and I made myself a new budget for this year. My goal is to pay my house off in less than 10 years so I can have the choice of the type of job I want rather than being chained to a corporate desk to make mortgage payments. With my budget I'll pay my house off in less than 9 years. I've also upped my savings so I can retire sooner rather than later (I put 10% of my take home pay in a money market and 10% in mutual funds as well as having a credit union account with a good interest rate where I dump the left over money at the end of every month and I max out my Roth IRA on top of my 401k - the greatest joy of not dating anyone is being able to save a lot of money).

Last year I did a great job with my goal of only filling my tank up once a month. Easier for me than most since I normally just drive my car to the airport and back. But that goal made me think twice about taking trips and it forced me to consolidate errands (also, having to carry what ever you bought will greatly reduce the amount of money you spend).

I applied for a bunch of jobs local to Denver yesterday and already was contacted by a recruiter. Fingers crossed. I'm frankly sick of busting my ass. Really, how many people out there could handle my travel schedule AND be skilled enough to do my job? 8 in the US or at least that's how many of us are left at my company. When I get a local job I'm going back to pilates and long bike rides and climbing. I'm tired of spending my evenings in a Holiday Inn located off some noisy highway working.

I also decided this year that I'm NOT going to contribute money to any charities that didn't send me a receipt for the contributions I made this year. Okay, if I donated $20 I can understand a non-profit being lax about sending me a receipt (further, I would hate for them to spend the money to do that). But if I contribute over $200 I expect at least an email acknowledging that you took my money. I contribute 7% of my after tax salary to charities and the ones that can't keep their paperwork straight will get nothing because I wasted 4 hours today trying to find canceled checks for the jokers that didn't email me a receipt.

Since I quit smoking I'm back in the groove with my versa climber which is the perfect antidote to cold weather. I'm easing myself back into my routine (last time I did two days of workouts that were 30 minutes and the next day I decided to do 60 minutes and my knee swelled up like a pregnant cat). Though in theory I'm not allowed to use my versa climber any more because of my knee I think if I don't go totally insane the first month or so I'll be fine. And I'm going back to my old routine of hitting the gym the second I get back to my hotel room. I've gotten into a bad habit of answering emails before the gym and that meant by the time I worked out I was already tired.  Why should I sacrifice my workout because some idiot isn't intelligent enough to check my schedule to see if I'm available for an engagement  and thus requires me to respond back to him by email?

Finally, I've been working on my cooking skills and socializing skills. I spent an hour today over at my neighbor Pat's house and conned her into helping me with my yard next year (which, if all goes as planned, will be easy to take care of because I'll actually be home). Then I saw my neighbor Carol who just got back from Costa Rica. And then I went for a walk with my friend Cam when she got off work. We found a new little shop that sells stuff that came from other people's houses, what ever those are called, not thrift store...what ever they're called. They had a ton of books that are only ten cents each. Though I love Tattered Cover I can't keep spending $100 a month on books (for the record, I read all my books - I used to use the library but with my travel schedule it's too hard to either find the time to go or return my books on time).

And I measured chairs for my new table at world market today. Didn't find the perfect chair yet. I'm really stressed about buying the wrong chairs and my friend Cam was making fun of me. I have been toying with the idea of checking out some antique stores to see what kind of chairs they have. But that would mean shopping.

I may do that. But, I really, really hate shopping. And I only have a half tank of gas to get me through to the new year and I want to do some snow shoeing in the mountains this weekend...

It's nice to have a week off to get my life back in order after so much time on the road. And to have the time to organize things so when I start traveling again I'm not stressing out. With any luck my travel days are numbered and a new cool job with a not full of crack heads company awaits.

I laugh to think how the translation engines handle me

I was just checking my page views for the week. I'm always surprised by the countries that show up. Malta? Estonia?

Very cool to be read there. And if any of my readers want me to visit their home country let me know. I've wanted to go to Malta for years. And I just did some research on Estonia. Very progressive country. And temperate. I think I would like the food there (minus the pork). The pictures on wikipedia were nice. I'll have to visit sometime.

hopefully they don't give the TSA real guns

This in from my brother Bob...

A guy brought a loaded gun through airport security. As he was attempting to show the TSA officer how to clear the gun the agent fired it.


TSA employment exam:

Q: how do you secure a weapon?
 A: fire it until it's empty

Bob also found this:

A woman was forced to remove her nipple ring, with pliers, before she was allowed to board her aircraft. This even though she had passed through the metal detector without setting it off (she was "chosen" for additional security screening). The male TSA officers were laughing as she stood behind a curtain trying to remove the nipple ring. They did not seem concerned about her belly button ring, which she was allowed to leave in.

Bob wrote: "Next they'll be asking people to remove tattoos, because all the terrorists are into body modifications".

Are they fucking serious? We need a protest movement against TSA...

really, I don't want to die

Ech. I just received this summary back from a publisher I submitted my manuscript to. I wonder if she even read past the first ten pages. This is the reason I didn't want to put that shit in about being so overwhelmed by pain that I wanted to die. Everyone reads it as if I'm some kind of psychotic suicidal idiot.

Would I let these people publish my book? Um, no.

“My Other Nine Lives” recounts Ms. Flowers’ battle to recover from a major knee-surgery that
nearly made her commit suicide.


A runner since she was eight years old, Ms. Flowers has won several long-distance races in the
span of fifteen years. Other than running, she also loves diving, white water rafting, and hiking
up the rockiest and most steep altitude she could find. She is a self-professed adventurist; even as
an engineering consultant, she would go to dangerous places others would not dare to visit.
Although a risk-taker, she never once thought that her extreme adventures could kill her, but
when it almost did, she reached the point where she wished to die—and nearly did.


It was in November of 2000 when Ms. Flowers underwent a seven-hour knee surgery. Her knee
and femur had to be restored using parts from a donor. The injury was originally caused by the
motorcycle accident she had eight years earlier that was aggravated by her extreme activities
until her knees and femur gave out.


The long, grueling, and painful months of recovery were the hardest part of Ms. Flowers’
journey. It was during this part of her life when she contemplated suicide just to end the pain she
was in after the surgery. But it was also during this time when she learned the value of things and
activities she formerly ignored. She knows that her injury will never curve her resolve to seek
and experience more adventures, but the lessons she learned from getting it will make her even
more cautious of her activities and careful of her body.


“My Other Nine Lives” might appeal to a reader interested in stories of extreme-sports
enthusiasts who recover from a serious injury."

cupcakes - national security threat or more idiocy from the gov?

Of course it's idiocy from the government:

TSA confiscated a woman's cupcake.

For those that don't travel that much, yawn, ho hum.

For those of us that do, this is one more example of the stupidity of TSA. The officer confiscated the cupcake, which had been through a security check in Logan, in Las Vegas because he said the icing was like a gel.

This is what fucking pisses me off. Be consistent. Every week that I fly it's a new challenge to see what the moron TSA officers are going to bitch about. Really, my neti pot? Or a bag of salt and baking soda? How many times are you going to over examine my wine bottle opener when there's a BIG GAPING obvious hole where the knife used to be (and a tiny knife at that - seriously, if I could kill someone with that knife I could kill them with my bare hands).

I'm pretty much over terrorists. They are only kept alive and in funding because fuck wit politicians in the US (Newt Gingrich comes to mind) keep telling us they are a threat. We have the moron shoe bomber who requires us to now take off our shoes, even flip flops. We have the terrorists of 911 who spent 10 years and millions of dollars planning the attack (of course, see above, thanks Gingrich for helping terrorists raise money by giving them legitimacy in the western press), and the bojinka plot (which failed, by the way, not because of men being alert to a bad situation, but because their boss, a woman, didn't believe the male cops who initially investigated the explosion) which was launched in 1995, yes, 1995, where a terrorist made a bomb out of liquids (of course, they didn't ban liquids on airplanes until 2006 (I remember the ban well, I was flying home from China and they threw out even my liquid Benedryl capsules). Do the math. Nine years. No bombs. Sudden panic.

If I were in charge of airline security here's what I would do:
-make sure the fuck wits in the State department weren't giving travel visas to terrorists (as they did pre-911)
-use funds to monitor known terrorists rather than treating regular US citizens as victims of a police state
-let people keep their shoes on - if your metal detectors, x-ray whirrly gig machines, and other "technology" can't pick up a bomb we're fucked anyway
-let frequent travelers (like myself) go through minimal security screening (I have a security clearance and yet I'm treated like a potential terrorist - don't even talk to me about flyclear - you have a shorter wait time in security lines - it is a total rip off
-forget the ban on liquids, it's stupid - if they were going to blow us up, they would have before the 2006 ban - think about it - even some pathetic piece of crap would have to think more than twice about blowing his or herself up mid-air in a plane

And that ends today's rant.

sometimes a gift can change your life

My brother got me a grid-it, which is super cool. I now have my backpack completely organized. It's a good idea. I don't have to fumble around any more to find all the little shit I can never find in my backpack pockets.

He also gave me this gift (the roll right top of the picture). It's seriously my favorite thing ever. It's a roll of velcro straps. I guess I have a reputation of being an organized neat freak. But if that were really true wouldn't I have known about these straps before? Of course I would have. So I'm not some neurotic person who has to have everything neat and tidy and in an exact location from which it can't be moved. Further, I did NOT just spend the past hour velcro strapping everything in my backpack, my stereo and computer wires, one of my cacti (he was developing a distinct lean), and other stuff. I am not now going through withdrawls because I've run out of things to velcro wrap.  I am NOT now contemplating braving the cold outside to see if there's anything in my car that needs a velcro wrap.

Okay, maybe I do have a problem. But at least I'm not smoking crack or engaging in some other bad habit. If anyone has anything that needs a velcro wrap let me know.

update on my dad

So, here it is 220 am MST (420 am EST) and I'm texting with my dad. Why he's up I don't know (he's on EST).

But he says the pain in his leg has been reduced a lot (80% - we engineers like to quantify things). He has his first chemo today (chemo today on top of radiation on Tuesday - extreme meds - tell me there's a climb harder than that - you're full of shit). I think he will do great.

I'm glad I have tough bad ass parents. It sets the bar.

My dad is going to kick lymphoma back to shit city. Never once since he's been diagnosed with cancer has he been like "uh oh, fuck me". I know he can do it. I just read an article in the New Yorker about placebos. Weirdly (or not) the body produces its own medicine through endorphins. This medicine can be more powerful than actual drugs. I believe this. I ran on a broken leg for 8 years without a significant amount of acknowledged pain. My dad is doing the same.

So fuck pain, cancer, and all that other shit.

We don't go down easy.

United we fly, divided I feel less stressed

I flew out this evening in the hopes of dodging a storm about to hit Rhode Island and the impending snow disaster in Denver.

My flight from TF Green to Dulles was turbulent the whole way. Not just a little turbulent. Like the plane is shaking apart at its seams and we're losing altitude in a troubling way turbulent. Screaming baby for 2 hours. Mom laughing and trying to play games with the screaming imp. Apparently she didn't bring any milk for the strong lunged 3 year old and there was no service on the plane because of the turbulence (seat belt sign was never turned off).

Then I had to make a mad run for my connection at Dulles because the fuck wits at United decided, for reasons unknown, that all the luggage had to clear the wing before we were allowed out of the plane. That took 20 minutes because they only have, apparently, 3 slap dicks unloading planes. Why this happened I can't say. Stewardess told me it was a security caution to "keep passengers from grabbing their luggage on the tarmac" (we landed at a gate where we had stairs instead of that scary suction cup to the plane thing).

The crack head stewardess on my connecting flight to Denver kept saying "welcome to flight (whatever) with service to Dulles". Dude, we are AT Dulles. I bring this up only because I and everyone who flies is flying in extreme discomfort so a stewardess who's worked for an airline for 15 years can make $100k a year plus benefits and we wonder why the airlines are losing money with planes packed. DO NOT EVEN GO THERE WITH ME. I had a friend in Colorado who was a stewardess making that much money (she quit her job because it was "too hard"). And Virginia. And Maryland.

I should be a stewardess.

The pilot warned us the landing in Denver was going to be bad before we even took off. Not a good sign. The luck of the day was that the flight left more or less on time and, when it came time for drinks service and I asked for a glass of wine even though it costs $7 and was a merlot (I'd rather lick adhesive off of an envelope than drink merlot - but believe me, after the last two days I've had, I needed a drink) the Japanese steward, who may have noticed I was reading a Murakami (Wind-Up Bird Chronicles - read it - paperback is 607 pages and I read it in a week on top of my magazines - was getting up at 530 in the morning so I would have an hour to read it before work), took my credit card after giving me a plastic bottle of wine, and said "your name is Franki?" I started to pull out my boarding pass since I had no hope of getting to my backpack which was shoved under the seat in front of me and the Polo cologne stinking fuck nut in front of me had his seat reclined. But the guy said "since your name is Franki this is free". Mazel tov.

After the plane landed (after three approaches where the pilot backed off) I had to make a mad dash 3 rows back to get my other bag. I did that successfully but was unable to return to my row because of the fuckwit family in front of me. The daughter (in her teens) was asking the dad to pull her bag out of the overhead (along with the bag of her 7 year old sister). The dad said "no, you get it out". I was like "dude, the trains run A LOT less frequently in DIA after midnight, so the sooner we get our bags and deplane the more likely we will not have to wait for a long time for a train". He was like "but, they're never happy, no matter what I do". Needless to say I pulled their bags down for them. Moron dad. I feel bad for those kids.

I got to my car, finally, after waiting FOREVER for the train back to the main terminal. It was 12:40am. Poor Jakey was covered in snow. The roads were a shit show. I saw a ton of accidents. I was driving like "it's actually 3 am for me because I'm on east coast time - no one has plowed - tourists are driving like idiots and spinning their cars - I might die". Even sure pawed Jake had some issues on the road. Finally made it home at 330 am (EST, which I'm on, or 130 am MST).

That's when I took out my laptop and turned it on because I have an early morning conference call and want to do the least amount of work possible before the call. BTW, I am supposed to be on vacation tomorrow.

And I realized I left my laptop power supply at my customer site.

Fuck me. Or, not. I have a back up. No single point of failure. And I think the customer will bring me back soon so I'll just grab it then. The customer I was working for was so great. The group was a great way to end my sordid year because they actually like my company. Even the VP came to all of my training sessions and when he was able to do a heat map he was so excited he was like "you have to come back!"

I have to take the little victories.

I should go to sleep. But I'm kind of wired after the drive I just did to get home from the airport. Hm. Only 6 hours before my conference call. Maybe I'll just stay up.

was that bad luck or good?

Because my company is el sucko they keep booking me on these crazy two segment flights even when a direct flight is only a little more expensive. Don't give me that bullshit about "saving $50 for every employee adds up to blah blah blah". The accountants can come live my fucking life with me for a few weeks and see how great their cost saving plans are. So the managers don't get billion dollar bonuses. Boo hoo. I cry for them.

Anyway, I woke up at 3:45 because my phone was buzzing. I normally go back to sleep but this time I thought I should check it. Which is a good thing because the buzz was an email coming in from United saying my flight had been canceled. No other explanation. No "we rebooked you". No useful information.

I panicked because I had to be out here in Rhode Island today for a very important, and short, engagement. I got up and called united. What's up with that fucking circus music they play while you're on hold? It's not pleasant at 4 in the morning.

I finally got a representative who tried to book me on a new flight getting into Rhode Island at 10:45 PM. I was like "NO WAY dude". I have to be at the customer site at 8 am every morning. I'm losing 2 hours as it is. This engagement is in the middle of nowhere. Also, it was forcing me to have a 4 hour layover in Chicago. Sucktacular.

After me bitching and pointing out that I have booked 250,000 miles with united (do the math, considering I didn't fly for the time I was over in the middle east, that's A LOT of trips) in the past 4 years the guy got me on a direct flight to Logan from Denver at 8 am. I had to drive an hour to get to my hotel, and my rental car is going to be obscenely expensive since my return is different from my pickup (to the tune of $100 a day) but ask me if I give a fuck.

There were no crying babies on the flight but the guy next to me (I was in the middle seat) farted the whole 4 hour flight. Not just like occasional farts. It was like lots and lots of farts. I wanted to vomit and had to get up twice and stand in the aisle to get away from the smell. Also, I smoked my fake cigarette even though it's not allowed on planes (stupid, a stewardess said "they cause interference with the communications in the cockpit" and I was like "I'm glad you are a stewardess and not a science teacher").

Then I got my car and got into the tunnels of downtown boston and got lost because my GPS was being chooky (kind of cool actually, since last time I was there the big dig was still going on). I passed faneuil hall and remembered how to get to the highway (weirdly, I haven't been to boston since 1996 but I remember certain aspects of the city). Arrived at my hotel earlier than my original flight would have had me getting here so my bad luck actually ended up being good. But my room, unlike the calgarian hotel I stayed in last week, does not seem to have much in the way of heat. I turned the thermostat up to 75 and went to work out. It's now at 65 even though I was blasting the heat for the hour I was in the gym.

I will survive. I shouldn't complain, actually. Given what my dad is going through now these matters are incredibly trivial.

some more news about my dad

He has lymph node cancer. But, he doesn't seem too concerned about it. He was more worried that I was going to get him a christmas present that's boring (an indoor bike trainer - he was like that would suck) or clothes (he said, in a nice way, to stop buying him outdoor clothes).

Hm. No idea what to get him. I'm sure I'll think of something.

Calgary is a zoo

I went to the airport and got my work permit today. Crazily, I was in the waiting room for 45 minutes. I started to get worried. Then the agent that was helping me came out and said they had just arrested a guy for manslaughter who was coming in to Calgary and that's why it took so long for him to retrieve my work permit. As he was stapling my work permit into my passport two agents led the manslaughter guy out in handcuffs.

That Calgary airport is a little insane.



Then I went to the zoo. I decided to walk not realizing the entrance off the Bow Riverwalk was closed for the winter. I went the wrong way trying to find the main gate. I ended up walking around the zoo and then walking down a busy "highway" (I don't know, in Canada it might be a highway, it was like 285 in Denver).



I saw some cool animals:

Grizzly bear making his way back into his man made cave. It doesn't look scary in this pic but it was a big bear.

Zebra: note to self, get invited to better christmas parties - these birds stink

"I'm NOT a republican"

(spider monkeys) - "It's FUCKING cold."

releasing your (hee) inner energy

Today I decided to get a massage since my neck still hurts a little. And the spa is on the same floor as the gym so it was convenient to go after my workout.

The woman who did my massage was a stocky but very short indian. She was dressed like a nurse in pink scrubs. I normally giggle my way through a massage (don't know why, as soon as that new age music comes on I feel like laughing). Then, to make matters worse, as I was laying on my back and she was rubbing my shoulders she farted. It was one of those "I thought I was going to get away with it" short high pitched farts. To make matters worse she whispered "oops!" under her breath, no doubt assuming I was asleep. It took every ounce of will power to not descend into hysterical laughter.

I tipped her well.

And, earlier this week, I was listening to this obnoxious guy who works for my company drone on and on in a very loud voice about cloud computing. At one point to show off he said "I'm sitting in my own private cloud right now!"

I had to leave the office for a few minutes until I could get myself under control. It still makes me laugh.

oh, and then the ceiling collapsed

I walked into the office today to discover that the water heater above the area where I work had burst a pipe. Running water all day while I was trying to work. Seriously. Who has an office with a water feature? More like water torture...

waiter...or weirdo?

The sales guys and I went out to dinner at this steak place called Caesar's that is supposedly some old money oil business steak place. I had salmon. They made fun of me.

Then the waiter, an older gent, you know, one of those guys who was probably a roadie for Bob Seger doing a lot of drugs and then ends up as a waiter in a cheap tux looking suit serving shit head consultants like me, took an interest in me. Why I don't know, except maybe I was probably the youngest woman in the joint or at least the only one who didn't look like my face was made of leather.

First he asked where I was from. I guess I haven't perfected my canadian accent (though my spelling is getting better - or they probably spell it "bettre"). There was an awkward moment when he asked me to hold the split in my baked potato open so he could put sour cream in it. No one, in any restaurant, has ever asked me to do that, I swear he was trying to put sour cream on my fingers.

Then, after I declined to have my leftovers wrapped, he asked which hotel I was staying in. I was totally caught off guard (it probably seems harmless when you read it here - it was more the way he said it, like he was going to come by when his shift was off and murder me). I fumbled for something to say trying to not look at the sales guy sitting in front of me because he had this totally shocked look on his face. I lied and said I was staying at some hotel I walk by and he said "yes, I know that place well". An embarrassing silence descended the table as the waiter leaned in towards me as if assessing which limb he would cut off first. Then he walked away.

The sales guys started making fun of me AGAIN. One was like "why would he ask where you're staying?" and the other guy was like "that just seemed so inappropriate". The waiter came by again and spent 15 minutes telling me about a hurricane that hit Calgary (actually, it wasn't a hurricane). The whole situation was weird and getting weirder by the second. He was giving me creepy attention.

We left without having dessert. The sales guys wanted to go to a micro brewery but I was too tired. And who knows what weirdos would be hanging out there.

moving down, moving up

I checked into my hotel on Sunday night and thought my room was a little warm but figured it was because the last occupant (likely middle eastern - there's a lot of them at the hotel - I'm not being racist) had the heat fully cranked. It was 86 degrees F when I got in there. After opening two windows and turning the thermostat to 50 I got the temp down to 79. I didn't get much sleep.

The next morning I figured out there was a problem because the temp hadn't changed at all. I called the front desk and they promised to fix it. I got home from the customer site super late (1 am) and realized my room was fucking hot, still. I was too tired to do anything and opened the windows again. I had the worst night's sleep ever.

So Tuesday morning I called the front desk again. They promised to fix the heat, again. Fucking liars. I got home at 7 Tuesday night and my room was scorching hot.

I called the front desk and they sent up a maintenance guy. He was like "this is not going to get fixed anytime soon". I called the front desk again and asked for a new room. The guy I talked to said the hotel was sold out. He offered to turn down the boiler and recommended I open the windows really wide. I was like look fucker, I need a NEW ROOM. He offered me a smoking room after I threatened to leave the hotel. They said they'd send up a bell hop with my new keys who would also help me move.

Then the front desk called back and said a guy was checking in who wanted to switch his room for smoking. Since I hate smoking rooms I was like "sure". Seconds later the bell hop showed up and didn't believe me when I told him he had to go back to the lobby to get different keys for me. He was french, and therefore dramatic and not entirely smart. He was arguing with me like I would make up this shit. Finally he said "I'm going down to check this out. I may or may not see you again."

The end of the story is that I moved from the 27th floor to the 10th floor. I'm used to staying on the top floors so it was a little weird having to go to the 10th floor. But I ended up with a suite that has a kitchen, dining room, living room, bathroom (obviously) and 2 bedrooms. Oh, and a private balcony.

Just got home after work and dinner with two sales guys. My room is freezing. Just cranked up the heat.

Hee.

not edmunton

Ech. I got on my plane today to fly to Calgary and the pilot kept saying we were going to Edmonton. I figured he was just an idiot (and flying our plane - yipes). The stewardess finally stuck her head in the cockpit (I was in bulk head so heard the whole thing) and said "we're going to Calgary!" and he was like "but the cloud cover is low, they are directing us to Edmonton as a back up".

I was like fuck fuck fuck. I did not want to land in Edmonton and then have to drive to Calgary in a shit rental car in a snow storm.

Luckily the weather cleared and we were able to land in calgon. I was the first person off the plane and cruised through the first part of customs. Then I had to wait in line to get my new work visa. No problem. There was only like 6 people in front of me, none of whom spoke english or even seemed to understand the concept of approaching the counter to talk to an immigration officer.

Luckily (I guess) the woman who denied me a year long visa last time I came through calgon saw me in line and waved me over. She was like "you're back, I recognized your hat" and I said "I normally don't wash my hair for at least a week before I come here so I have to wear a hat". She smiled, demanded to see my diploma for my master's degree (I actually had it this time), updated the system so I never have to bring my degree again, decided that since my customer was bringing me back I must know what I'm doing, asked a few questions about my resume, and then gave me a year long work permit.

Good news.

Except. The fucking printer wasn't working. So I have to go back to the airport this weekend and get my permit because she couldn't print it for me. She swore I could wait until I flew out to pick it up but my current permit expires 15 December and I'm here until 17 December. I don't want to get in trouble. I'll probably go to the airport this weekend.

I have to admit she was really nice this time. And I waited in line longer to get my rental car (hey, I'm president's circle, I have to wait in line??????) than to get my work permit.

My room is nice, but not as nice as the last time I stayed at this hotel. I got a king sized bed but my chair doesn't have an ottoman. They are trying to find one for me. Given some of the hotels I've stayed in I don't even know why I'm complaining.

update on my dad

We were talking on Sunday morning and my dad said that his doctor found a swollen lymph node in his groin. It could be bad as my dad has had very aggressive cancer. I'm hoping it's okay because lymph node cancer usually doesn't hurt (he was having pain which is how they found the mass in his lymph node) and his blood work came back okay.

He has a biopsy and MRI on Friday. Stay tuned...

pain in the neck, part 2

And, my neck is better, a lot better, but still not great. My doctor said it's actually a lymph node causing the problem. It's probably related to allergies (too much time spent the past few weeks on the right coast) or quitting smoking, or both.

I was going to get a massage but have been super busy with work and in the one hour I had to potentially get a massage I decided to get my eyelashes dyed instead.

I hate make up. I can deal with a little pain as long as my eyes look good. When I get to Canada on Sunday I'll do a massage. Luckily my hotel has a spa.

big news

I quit smoking two weeks ago. I know, don't have heart failure.

I did it by buying a fake cigarette. I took a quiz on some website (it was like "you're going to die from lung cancer.org" or some name like that) that figured out what kind of smoker I am. It turns out I hate cigarettes (explaining why I always get pissed when someone smokes near me) but I like to smoke. Fake cigarettes make smoke and do all the things a normal cigarette does, but it doesn't cause you to get cancer. Stupidly, the FDA won't approve them as a smoking cessation tool because they think fake cigarettes will encourage kids to smoke.

?????

Anyway, I did a lot of research and bought fake cigarettes from V2. They are so cool. I love love love them. I have 4 different kinds and one that I can smoke in my car and one I can smoke from my laptop (it connects up through the USB port).

One downside is my voice is kind of screwed up right now and I lose my voice usually by mid-day. My doctor says it's a result of quitting smoking and that it should stop happening...soon. Yeah right. Like when my other doctor said my organs would take the place of my uterus and my abdominal cavity would stop filling with air every time I fly, causing me to fart for like 45 minutes straight after I get off of a plane. That was, what, 10 months ago. Still farting.

If you know anyone who needs to quit smoking check out V2. And do a search on reviews, there's all kinds of discount codes to save you money. Right now my "smoking" habit is costing about 25% of what my normal habit cost.

All savings are going toward paying for a new kitchen which I will hopefully start this summer. Which should be a disaster if it's like everything else I do...

pain in the neck

I woke up this morning at 4:30 after having a nightmare that someone had tried to saw my head off. Surprisingly, when I came fully to consciousness, I was still having severe pain in my neck.

I've never had a back or neck problem before. Sometimes they feel tweaky, but nothing worth writing a blog about. This morning was different. I couldn't find a single position to put my head in that didn't hurt. I kept getting spasms that were so painful I felt like throwing up.

I have no idea what happened. When I went to bed last night I felt fine. More than fine. I even did an extra set of pushups and rollups. Neither of those exercises has ever hurt my neck, even when I over do them.

Panicking because I had to teach today I hopped in the shower and sprayed hot water on my neck for over 30 minutes. No change. I could barely brush my teeth and had to keep my head bent to the right side (the pain is on the left). Also, I could not lift my head up straight so had to stare at the carpet while getting dressed; good thing I don't feel the need to look at my outfit before I go to the office.

I got to the customer site, walking with my heavy backpack on just my right shoulder and almost passing out on the sidewalk from the pain. My point of contact picked me up in the lobby and she was like "girl, what is WRONG with you?" The left side of my neck was spasming so badly that my students started joking that an alien was trying to pop out (it's that noticeable - the muscle along the left side of my neck is totally sticking out and swollen and when it spasms it sticks out even further). One concerned student even offered to bring me muscle relaxers tomorrow (yes, I've been counseled to not take other people's meds so I won't be taking them - but, for the record, I'm tempted).

After forcing myself to do head rolls during the lunch break (or, half rolls) I was able to at least lift my head to normal position. The spasms stopped. I'm still getting a shooting pain from my left shoulder blade to the top of my head.

I fucking better be okay tomorrow. It's sheer hell trying to teach and be on my feet all day when my neck hurts and I can't turn my head at all. Fuck knows what the students at my periphery are doing knowing I can't see them.

my brother and I solve some problems of the universe

I had a great evening with my brother Bob watching two shows, Super Massive Black Holes and Wormholes. My mom wanted to watch HGTV but we wouldn't let her.

During the show we came up with a theory based on those funnel shaped fountains that you drop a penny into and the penny rolls down the funnel gaining momentum until it drops into the hole (kind of like an object approaching an event horizon). My brother postulated that a person would not get spaghettified at the even horizon because we are too small of a mass. However, the Plumber Physicist Leonard Susskin said on the show that a person and space ship would be too small of a mass to ever quite reach the event horizon but they would eventually be spaghettified just the same. He uses and example of Alice as an astronaut in a space suit and Bob in the spacecraft. He famously got into a huge fight with Hawking and won. 

He's one of the fathers of string theory so possibly everything he says is bullshit. Go astrophysicists!

I thought we should launch some kind of space craft to launch things into a black hole and see what happened to them. My brother watched the Minotaur 1 launch and said it looked like "a shooting star but in reverse". I was emailing with him when the launch happened but wasn't there to drink beer and actually witness it.

Then I started thinking about how a black hole is either dormant (i.e. not sucking in everything around it) or omnivorous (eating the universe). I postulated that when the black hole is dormant it is passing material into the galaxy (could explain how certain elements showed up in the milky way that could not have resulted from the big bang) and that when it's consuming that's how we could do space travel via worm holes. 

My brother Bob, because he's a dick, was like "yeah, but the closest black hole is really far away".

If we are right...you read it here first...

if it were easy it wouldn't be called "gardening"

Today I'm digging holes with my dad. We planted bleeding hearts, amaryllis, and some other stuff that the deer supposedly won't eat. My dad made me dig a big hole so he could move the dirt across the yard. After I dug the hole (had to use a pick ax to break up the soil) and moved the dirt with the wheel barrow (it wasn't easy) he filled the hole I had dug with dirt from a bag. I was like "why didn't I just use this dirt instead of transplanting that dirt?"

He was like "hm".

my dad's office building exploded

Today my dad left work early to pick me up at the airport. Which is lucky since his office building exploded. No one was hurt. But now he's freaking out because we're supposed to go for a meeting tomorrow (we'll have to find somewhere else to meet) and he left his laptop in his building. They just sent him an email that he can't get into his building.

http://news.cincinnati.com/article/20111121/NEWS01/311210043/Explosion-causes-fire-at-GE?odyssey=tab|mostpopular|text|FRONTPAGE

crooks and contracts

I sent my book contract to my uncle Joe last night since he is a lawyer and a CPA. He sent me his review this morning.

The contract is shit and the agent has pending litigation against him for defrauding other writers. Fucker. I wish he was here so I could kick him in the nuts.

Oh well. I have a few days next week to send out more queries.

I <3 rejection.

some news on my book

I submitted my manuscript to an agent back in August. I never heard from him so I finally emailed him again. He had never received my manuscript.

He told me he would reply back regarding my manuscript in two weeks. I heard back from him on Monday, one week. He is interested in publishing my book. So, now I have to get a lawyer to review the contract, etc. Stay tuned...

I haven't gotten to post my good news because I've been insanely busy with work and travel. San Fran on Monday, back to Calgary today. On the road until Christmas.

Yee haw.

erased

[at the suggestion of a friend I sent this story to I'm publishing it here - I'm in San Fran - apologies to my dad for breaking into his desk]

Smelling the ocean air here with my hotel room window open... I don't know why, but the smell of salt in the air always reminds me of when I was 4 and my dad had rented this little cabin on a beach in Massachusetts during the winter because it was cheap. The chairs were yellow vinyl and completely uncomfortable. We had to wear our winter coats all the time because there wasn't good heating, or maybe my parents didn't use it to save money. The door was painted red with a white x that covered the whole door and a white border. The cabin always smelled like the ocean.

 

One weekend it was raining really hard and all of our toys had gotten packed (we must have been moving somewhere), we had nothing to play with, and my parents couldn't send us outside, so my dad went down to the local market and brought back some erasers for us. The erasers were shaped like animals (flat, not a whole 3d body, with ink faces and body details like feathers or fur drawn on them) and they had eyes glued on them with the pupils that move (I used to call them googly eyes). There was a blue dog and a pink rabbit that my sister picked, she got to pick first because she was older, then my brother Bob picked a yellow lion (he was youngest so got to pick next) and a gray elephant. I ended up with a green owl and a red cat which was fine with me. I was playing with the owl and the cat and they were having a conversation about spaghetti. I guess I was irritating the shit out of my dad because he said "owls and cats would never talk to each other because the cat would want to eat the owl so stop pretending they're friends".

 

I thought about that for a while and then decided the cat should eat the owl. But since the cat was just an eraser and couldn't eat the owl I bit the owl's head off but then decided to keep the rest of him intact so the cat would still have someone to play with. At dinner that night I put my erasers on the table and when my dad saw that I had bitten the head off of the owl he started yelling at me about how I would never get a toy again because I ruined my owl. I tried to explain that I was just doing what he had said to do which was the wrong thing to say because it just pissed him off even more. He took the erasers away from me.

 

For years after that I would go through his desk when he wasn't home (it had a lock but I figured out how to open it with a screw driver - my brother Bob used to lock himself in the bathroom and not be able to open the door so I got pretty adept with opening locks) looking for my erasers. Never found them.