Chapter 2: The Giant Man Makes a Plan of Action Which They Carry Out

The croco-diamond popped the last bit of ka-nana-kin 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 said, with pride, “I have never lived alone.” Then, thinking his response may have been a bit impolite, he whispered conspiratorially, “However, I did live in a swamp. It was quite mucky. You can’t even imagine what it did to…my jewels.”

Every croco-diamond has 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 roebertian engine design. Croco-diamonds can be very mechanically inclined when they aren’t being lazy.

The giant man had no jewels. 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.”

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 would like to tell you about the cringle root. The cringle root is a beautiful thing, like your jewels. You plant it in the fall, the seed looks like a flower. You must tend to the root gently through the winter. In the spring tiny green leaves sprout from the dirt. The leaves are shiny, like…”

“Like my emeralds?” the croco-diamond asked, suddenly interested, since the subject had changed to him.

“Yes, like your emeralds. Under the leaves a small root grows hidden, a translucent globe at first, darkening to a shade of purple, the purple of royalty. The purple…of kings.”

“I see,” said the croco-diamond, contemplating the rich purple of the cringle crisps, and how they had shimmered in the basket, tempting him to eat them. He wondered how croco-diamonds had been unaware for all of the years that cringle crisps existed since they were obviously the food of kings. So light and airy with an exceptional crunch leaving a nutty earthy taste in the mouth as one savored the broken crisp on the tongue…

A trickle of saliva rolled down the croco-diamond’s lower jaw. He wished for a cringle crisp at that moment and wanted it more than anything in all of the worlds. He thought to ask the giant man if there might be some over looked baskets, perhaps in the house, which, while not a perfectly clean environment, would not preclude the croco-diamond, recently from the swamp, from eating a cringle crisp.

“Say, would there be any more cringle crisps about somewhere? You have piqued my interest. I am very excited to get to know more about them through a thorough study.” The giant man sadly shook his head.

At that moment it became clear to the croco-diamond what needed to be done. He raised his snout up. “To the field!” he commanded, raising a finger on his front foot in the air. “We go! Post haste!”

And so they went into the field. The croco-diamond watched impatiently as the giant man picked a cringle root. He 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.

“This will not do! This will not do at all!” The croco-diamond’s mind was racing thinking cringle yummy crunchy. Crunchy cringle crummies. Cringle cringly crispy yummy.

“Please, step aside dear sir!” commanded the croco-diamond. “We will NEVER get to market this way!” He began to delicately scratch at the ground, determined, though it was manual labor, to pick some cringle roots so he could have some cringle crisps.

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 out of the earth.

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 back at the house making the cringle crisps. He covered the ground from the house to the field in just five steps, returning to pick up baskets when he heard the croco-diamond’s joyous “Ruf!” that yet another had been filled.

Left alone in the field, the croco-diamond was filled with anticipation as he pulled each cringle root out of the ground. “Oh, oh my beauties. I will do anything for you! You, of exceptional beauty and taste…” He paused, holding a shimmering purple cringle root up to the light of the sun. A solitary tear slid from the croco-diamond’s right eye.

But then, embarrassed and fearing he was being dramatic, he addressed the basket of cringle roots before him. “Well, I do like you. But, mostly when you are a cringle crisp.”

In less than two hours they were ready to go to market with five baskets of cringle crisps. The giant man put the baskets into his 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 across the bed.

“You see, this is how my people travel,” the croco-diamond told the giant man as he climbed into the hammock, not on his own accord though, the giant man had to make 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 sprinkling 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 an oops-a-daisy bush and that wouldn’t flower for another month. He scratched his head, thinking quietly “um, erm, hrm”. And then…

“I have it! 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.

revision to Chapter 1 of the cringle crisp caper

I've rewritten the first three chapters of my new kids' book.

Chapter 1:  The Giant Man Discovers a Croco-diamond in His Hammock

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 cringle crisp crumbs, shiny long 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 Ve Dornian ruby once owned by a real King. In each foot were 5 cringle 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 cringle 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, kormy buns, broccolini casseroles, eggy torts, okre poker soup, and jellied can cakes they had never been seen eating cringle crisps. Cringle crisps, as you know, are made from cringle root, which is in the cringle tuber family, also known by its Latin name Crosimius Cringlecrumbium.

“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?”

“Erm. Hm. Um. 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 cringle 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… Hm. Eight. Erm, um, 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 cringle crisps. All…all of my cringle 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…it seems you’ve eaten all of my cringle crisps? All of them? ALL?”

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?”

“There is a problem. I sell cringle crisps every Thursday at the market. Now…there’s nothing to sell… Erm, um, nothing…”

The croco-diamond blinked and then stared at the tall figure in front of him whose bath robe flapped in the gentle breeze, as if lazily pointing to all the empty baskets.

Due to his large size, strong teeth, well polished nails, and general aura of royalty, no one had ever reprimanded the croco-diamond before. But he was pretty sure he was being reprimanded. And was unsure what to do. A feeling of sadness replaced the happy feeling of just moments before from having eaten nine baskets of cringle 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 its 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. Um, it’s okay. Erm, don’t cry. Please. Now, there’s no reason to cry…” said 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 cringle crisps. With two of us…it’s…it won’t take long. Erm, hm, please don’t cry.” The giant man moved his hand as if to pat the croco-diamond, but his hand was far away and so it just patted the air. “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 getting angry. 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 cringle crisps are not a balanced diet. After breakfast we will discuss what to do next. We need a plan of action!”

an abduction dream solves my writer's block

Yesterday, after my screen writing class and my writer's group meeting, I started working on the first 5 pages of my screen play, which are due Wednesday but in reality I have to get them done today because I work on my book during the weekdays. I couldn't think of how to get the movie started in a way that would be immediately funny. So I started watching an iraqi movie called fratricide and fell asleep at 9 pm...

During which time I had an abduction dream. I haven't had one since I left DC. In the dream I was laying on my stomach and I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. At first I thought it was just the normal house noises (I think I have ghosts because I hear light footsteps going up and down the stairs almost every night. But, never see anyone and it's not as loud as people footsteps - probably just the wood settling or something). Anyway, the footsteps got really loud and sounded like people footsteps. I was scared but thought I shouldn't move. 

Then I felt two small feet land on my bed. I wanted to move but I was paralyzed. The next thing I knew I was being pulled up towards my ceiling at a fast rate. Then I was outside, flipped over on my back, and could see myself heading towards the bottom of a metallic green...box. You know, like those ammo boxes? But this one was huge and I could only see the bottom of it.

Everything was completely black and I was laying on a table. Then I heard a "pop!" like a lid being pulled off a plastic medicine bottle (child safety-less cap). Then I felt myself being lifted up and thrown into the sky. I was falling at a fast rate but wasn't scared at all. I wanted to fall.

Woke up in a sweat. And then realized - that's it!!! The first few minutes of dialogue will be about aliens!

I forget what the medical explanation is for abduction dreams.

my brother and I talk about asperger's

by email, of course...

Bob: What test did you take, and is it available online?  Is there a treatment or just a 'haha, you have aspergers...' Listening to the NPR piece now...

Me: I'll send you the test link tomorrow (downloading a vm ware image which has brought my fuckwit laptop to a screaming halt). 

My ex used to move things on my shelves while I was at work, and we'd get into a huge fight about it when I got home. I realized listening to the npr story that my need for perfectly arranged objects might not be normal but it's not because I'm a bitch. BTW. I am obsessed with license plates and need to come up with some numeric resolution of the plates when I'm driving. It's horrible. Plate ACE 246 is easy. The rest are hard. I do the same with my hotel room numbers.

Also, as I'm getting older my facial recognition skills are getting A LOT worse. Stresses me out at work. I'll spend 10 hours with a customer, show up in the lobby the next day, and NOT recognize the person AT ALL. 

Bob: I like to think that I can't wear my glasses on the beach, and that's why I can't tell anyone from anyone else on the beach.  The reality is that I was in a training session (week long) including an earthquake that disrupted the event, then met a person that was at the training a month later.  He immediately recognized me, I had no recollection of ever meeting him.

I'm starting to think everyone I work with has asperger's...

incompetence, part II

I got an email at 630 this morning from IT saying they set up a training environment for my class. The sales woman on the thread said "you are my hero!" to the IT guy. Like, why, because he did his fucking job?

So I logged on to the training environment and discovered the image the IT guy uploaded had
1. exercise files for EVERY class but the one I was teaching
2. an expired license (meaning, no one could use the software)

I was like are you GODDAMN KIDDING ME???????

So I sent the files that needed to be added to the IT guy. How FUCKING long does it take to drop them in the training environment? About 6 seconds. Instead, he didn't do it until 11 am (he received the files at 7 am). And he only did it because I called so many times and screamed at his manager (who told me "he's in a meeting right now" when I asked, at 10 am, why the files hadn't been uploaded). How long did it take him to upload them? If you guessed "around 6 seconds" you're right.

So, for a two day class, the students weren't able to get into the software tool until 4 hours before the class ended. I put them through the paces and we made a lot of progress.

That is, until the session ended because the fuckwit IT guy had the class end at 6 PM EST, not 6 PM MST. I started a web conference and finished the class.

Someone should be fired. But the idiot way my company works, it would probably be me.

rain man?

I've often suspected certain members of my family, who shall not be named here, are autistic. Like, is it normal for a 28 year old to have 6 software patents? Didn't think so.

But this past summer while I was on my lighthouse retreat I met a woman who has a son with asperger's who is also a therapist. She said I had it.

And they just did this cool story on NPR about people with autism that try to have romantic relationships. I was listening to some of the comments thinking "hm, sounds familiar".

So I took an asperger's test a few minutes ago (long day, training problem still not solved, no idea what I'm going to do tomorrow). The score for a normal person is 16. Asperger's score is 32. I scored....

45.

Ech. Seriously? Maybe that's what's wrong with me. The weird thing is a component of asperger's is to have a child like imagination. So, maybe my kid's book will suck less than my other book. Got another rejection today...

incompetence

Wait until I tell my uncle about this one...

Today I was supposed to be teaching an online training class for students spread out across the US and in India. It's the first time I've taught a class like this.

Half the students never read the email with instructions on how to log onto the course so we were delayed 10 minutes because of that. Then half the students have audio problems because they never tested their equipment so they can't participate. None of the students have taken the pre-req. The software being used to serve the class is erratic and half the time the students can't see my screen. When I'm doing a demo I can't see the portal and have no idea if the students are trying to contact me because they can't see my screen (and since some can't talk...well, you get the picture).

Through all these problems I kept contacting the training coordinator, who is supposed to help. She told me to call tech support, which is difficult since I'm the instructor. Normally I would give the students an exercise to do while I did the training coordinator's job but...

...the best part...80% of the class is doing exercises in a software tool that is supposed to be available through a citrix lab. But, the class status in the system was shown as "unbooked" so the IDs and passwords to get into the citrix lab were never generated. And apparently there's no room on the servers to put my class up and I was told to reschedule it.

None of the training people are responding to my emails.

keyword searches that found my blog

These are the keyword searches people have done in the past week that brought them to my blog.

My favorite is "getting fucked by a subject". No, it's "banjo boobs". No, it's "penis eating fish". That entry still gets hits each week.

Virginia Woolf I am not.

my Uncle Joe's interesting lawsuit

Tonight I had dinner with my dad's brother, my Uncle Joe. He's in town for a court case. He let me read the case. It's hilarious. This guy is suing a company because he thinks they owe him money. That's because, when he entered into an employment agreement with them, he sent them an email asking to be paid X amount of money plus to be given a share of the company. This after he had agreed to different terms of employment. He thinks, based on the email (which was never replied to) that the company should pony up $250,000 (arbitrary number that he can't justify). Also, he says he was wrongfully terminated.

So my Uncle Joe did some investigation. He has an email from the guy saying he quit his job (makes the argument that he was fired moot). The guy was so incompetent that the company moved him into three different positions to see if they could find something he could do right (my uncle thinks he was incompetent on purpose, planning to learn the business and then start a rival company - he said "no one could be that incompetent" - he's obviously never worked with my company). My uncle has numerous testimonies from clients and suppliers saying the guy was a moron.

He also got copies of the guy's phone records since the company paid his phone bill. Not only was he making tons of calls to a competitor, he also was hiring prostitutes when he was on travel (he's married). My uncle is saving that little fact for last in the case.

And, it turns out, if you do a bad job at a company, intentionally or not, there's something called being a "harmful agent", which means you're harming the company. That means if you've totally fucked up something for a company (business deal, customer relationship) the company can sue you for damages. It's not done often and the labor lawyer my uncle is working with didn't even know about the case law (my uncle knows a ton about case law through the whole spectrum of the legal system). So not only will the guy lose his case, but he may also end up owing the company money. My uncle initially offered him $25K to end the lawsuit just because it's annoying. The guy refused to take it. Now he's screwed.

Needless to say, when I get a book or screen play deal, he's going to be my lawyer. He's also very physically intimidating (imagine a mafia guy who's also a lawyer) so he's kind of like a built in body guard as well. He did some research for me on good places with reasonable contracts if I decide to self publish. Nice of him since he's busy...

Though, he plans on buying a plantation in Indonesia when he retires which will make him less geographically accessible. I better get a deal soon.

Return to the Light

Here's the summary of the movie I'm going to write for my script class. Name sucks. I'll fix it later. The movie is a comedy.

Return to the Light Summary

I  

Three yoga class friends, Jessica, Haley, and Kate, wait at the airport for their yoga instructor Monica, who is taking them on a spiritual journey to Peru. When Monica shows up they are surprised to find that she’s bringing her 8 year old daughter, Pacha Ray, on the trip.

They arrive in Cusco and meet John and Helen, a couple who will be joining them on a trip to the Sacred Terraces of Moray. Haley and Pacha Ray are badly behaved on the bus, with Pacha Ray throwing up on Kate. Monica attempts to do a purification ceremony using an app on her iPhone while Kate cleans up the vomit, Pacha Ray screams, Haley gets drunk, and John is attacked by a rabid dog. Jessica saves John. Then the group rushs to the bus to get John to the hospital but the bus breaks down.

II  

Everyone is on a train to Aguas Calientes. Monica is oblivious to Pacha Ray’s bad behavior. Haley is scoring drugs, Kate is being annoying, and John and Helen are being robbed by a local. Jessica finally takes charge of Pacha Ray. Kate gets jealous.

Arriving in Aguas Calientes in the evening, everyone goes to dinner. Monica and Kate have to run back to the hotel because they have stomach problems. Haley leaves with some locals. John catches on fire when a firework lands on his head. He and Helen head to the hospital. Jessica and Pacha Ray are left alone and a friendship starts to develop between them after a rocky start.

The next morning Kate and Monica are too sick to go to Macchu Picchu. Jessica takes Pacha Ray which upsets Monica because she doesn’t want her daughter to get to go there before she does.

Jessica and Pacha Ray return to the hotel later that day, having obviously had fun. The other women are in the lobby. Monica is furious. Haley is passed out and Kate is upset. Jessica tries to talk to Monica but it doesn’t help. At dinner that night Jessica is shunned. Then Monica says Jessica must help them pay for a spiritual guide Herbert to do a bunch of ridiculous ceremonies the next day at Macchu Picchu. Jessica is reluctant but agrees to keep the peace. Pacha Ray has reverted to her bad behavior again and is being mean to Jessica.

Jessica leaves the hotel, eats some vendor food, and gets sick.

III 

Jessica goes to the first ceremony at Macchu Picchu even though she’s sick; Pacha Ray is throwing rocks at her during the ceremony. Then Jessica decides to climb Huayna Picchu alone. On the top of the mountain she has a spiritual experience, but returns to find the other women almost left her behind and that Monica has told Pacha Ray that Jessica is dead. Pacha Ray and Jessica are friends again. Back home the women sit in a circle with their yoga class to talk about their spiritual enlightenment.

my family weighs in on corm crisps

I emailed my brothers and mom to see what names they might suggest for corm crisps.

Me:

Here are some new names (vote for your favorite) - the name has to connote a snack that can be crunched and crushed so when the kangawrong steps on them they break - also they have to imply something the giant man can grow in his garden and not something normal that would be unhealthy and cause kids to get fat - should be a cool name like "cheesy poofs":


 -snacky straws (too general?)
 -snacky spud straws (kind of like this one)
 -crunchy fiddle crisp
 -greenie sticks


Vegetables I've found from research that can be made into chips (not including potatoes): sweet potato, squash, carrot, green bean, onions, eggplant, plantain, cassava, corn,cucumber, lotus root, and taro.

My brother Bob:

I kind of like the completely made up name.  Although a parent reading it might mistakenly say corn puffs.  How about popcorn balls or rice crispy treats?  Plastic bubble wrap, but who would eat that.

My mom:

I like kettle carrots and pringotots. But I have to make sure it sounds crunchy. Maybe like crunchy kettle carrots.

My brother Steve:

Nobody likes carrots for breakfast

My Mom (from a dream she had, apparently, about the croco-diamond):

Beet Ball Puffs

everybody knows you ate them because your finger tips and mouth are purple.  Plus if you throw them at someone they explode in a puff of purple smoke upon impact...

also thought of Cukie Krispies

and when Croco-diamond eats the Beet Ball Puffs his snout complains and complains because the purple smoke tickles his nose holes and leaves a purple ring... 

Yes, I'm procrastinating. My screen writing class starts tomorrow and I haven't done my script outline yet...

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.