At the desk

The problem with eating lunch at your desk is that, it is, well, at your desk. When you are close to the actual area that you work, you realize how much work you have to do. That is why I enjoy going out to lunch on workdays. Don’t get me wrong, I also like eating greasy food that some unhappy minimum wager had to slop together, but that is pretty much secondary to getting the hell away from my desk.

I have tried eating in the little snack area where my company provides tables for we worker bees, but it turns out that I hate small talk and don’t like people. That did not work for very long. Too many forced conversation about “local sporting events,” “weather,” and other flat pleasantries made the process of eating communally a bit of a chore. That and some of the people like to “share” waaay too much information about their extended family woes. Just because I am sitting near the microwave, does not mean I want to hear about your cousin Timmy’s appendix, or, especially, your 55 year old uncle’s penchant for 20-something women.

So, here I sit at my desk eating Tyson Chicken’s Chicken Cordon Bleu with some microwaved corn… staring at my screen, posting a blog post instead of working. Looking at the pile of papers that have long since lost their semblance of order, and thinking, “Great Blue Heron Beaks! I have tons of work I need to do… I think I need to clean my desk up… I wish my toe would stop itching. I don’t think the co-workers would like it if I took off my shoe and sock to scratch my toe. Hey, at least I am not trimming my toenails at work like the freak did when I first started working here. I did not misspell ‘microwaved.’ It is the past tense of ‘microwave.’ Why does Microsoft Word recognize the spelling of ‘microwave’ but not ‘microwaved?’ that just doesn’t make any sense. I love the ham in chicken cordon bleu. Does anyone make ‘Ham Cordon Bleu?’ I could use a nap. Yeah, a nap would be good. Ooooh, Shiny!”

Ummm… where was I? Oh, yes, lamenting lunches at the desk. At least the chicken was tasty, and I like the company keep during the lunches at my desk (me), so I guess it could be worse. I could be forced to eat at Skyline Chili or White Castle all the time. That would hurt. That would hurt me badly.

To recap:
Wifey seems to be doing better
I think it has to do with the Roast Beef
We purchased the Christmas program DVD produced by Little Man’s preschool
Turns out Little Man enjoys watching himself on the big-screen
Picking his nose
Today's lesson: I don’t like people
Much less talking to them
Especially when I am eating
I typically do not respond to meme, call outs, but…

This is for you B from e-lah
Good lord, I look haggard
Did I mention that I don’t like people?
‘Cause I don’t
At all
W T F ?!???!!??
Maybe the Beck’s of 3 to 4 years ago, but now?
Oh, yeah, it's de-lurking week, so leave comments if you got 'em
Have a great weekend, everyone

“Click” “Ctrl + J” “Click”

Oh, crap! It’s nearly 3:45 and I haven’t posted. Really there is not terribly much to tell. I have lots of work that must get done, and it is tee-dee-ous. Horribly tedious. Tedious and time consuming. I think the final product is worth it in the end, but good-gracious-bumbly-bee does it take a shit-ton of tedium to bring about. “Click” “Ctrl + J” “Click” “Click” “Ctrl + J” “Click” “Click” “Ctrl + J” “Click” “Click” “Ctrl + J” “Click” “Click” “Ctrl + J” “Click” “Click” “Ctrl + J” “Click” “Click” “Ctrl + J” “Click” “Click” “Ctrl + J” “Click” “Click” “Ctrl + J” “Click” “Click” “Ctrl + J” “Click” “Click” “Ctrl + J” “Click” “Click” “Ctrl + J” “Click” “Click” “Ctrl + J” “Click” “Click” “Ctrl + J” “Click” “Click” “Ctrl + J” “Click” “Click” “Ctrl + J” “Click” “Click” “Ctrl + J” “Click” “Click” “Ctrl + J” “Click” “Click” “Ctrl + J” “Click” “Click” “Ctrl + J” “Click” “Click” “Ctrl + J” “Click” “Click” “Ctrl + J” “Click”

Anyway… enough about work.

Wifey’s gall-bladder issues have been making dinner around the house a difficult prospect. There ain’t no blame in ma game here, I am just saying, it is difficult to cook a meal for myself when Wifey is going to have half a can of soup and Little Man is downing orange rice left-overs. I just don’t feel like cooking for myself in these instances.

I don’t want to temp Wifey with fat-filled goodness, so some of the non-healthy quick meals that I usually fix on Fend-for-Selves nights on the menu are out of the question. Trust me, I don’t want to temp a hungry and pissed-off Wifey. NO ONE WANTS TO TEMP A HUNGRY AND PISSED-OFF WIFEY. Let’s just say she gets a little on the mean side when she is hungry. Anyway… I am tired of non-meals and quick dinner fixes. For the last two nights I have had chickies for dinner for Chrissakes! With KETCHUP no less, because we didn’t have any bar-b-que sauce or ranch dressing.

Well, that is about it from my whiney self.

To recap:
How’s that roast beef, Wifey!
I found Wifey the leanest roast beef I could
Turns out it was made from a negative cow
An anti-cow, if you will
Couldn’t sleep for crap yesterday
Made it difficult to come in this morning
Just Little Man and me for dinner tonight
He will have orange rice and I have no idea what I will eat
We have some chicken that I might try to do something with
Or maybe I will just have some soup
Wifey has some kind of hoot-nanny to go to tonight so the start of the evening ritual (dinner, DVR’ed shows and bath-time) will be all Papa tonight
I think I will be exercising at the homestead tonight, instead of the gym
“Click”
“Ctrl + J”
“Click”
“Click”
“Ctrl + J”
“Click”
“Click”
“Ctrl + J”
“Click”
“Click”
“Ctrl + J”
“Click”

Freshen

I do not make a habit of hanging out in restrooms, but I have noticed something happen every time I have gone into the work restroom here at the hallowed halls of my company. Every time I am in the restroom, the automated air-freshener dispenses a blast of pungent anti-stink scent. Every. Single. Time. Now, I have varied the frequency and times that I employ the restroom’s facilities, but every time I go to pee, there is a blast of supposedly “freshness” directed my way. Every. Single. Time. That being said, I have not done a longitudinal double blind observational time series to determine the overall frequency and “schedule” of the automatic air freshener. It may be that the thing goes off every 5 minutes no matter what, and the time it takes to void the bladder and wash my hands just puts me within the 5 minute window every time. Excuse me, I meant to type Every. Single. Time.

I have mentioned this to other restroom users whilst they attempt to make polite conversation with me during the time that biological necessities are being performed, but I only get polite acknowledgement of the comment. Other polite work restroom topics such as “the weather,” “local sporting events,” and “would rather be home” seem to evoke a more boisterous response than “Man, that air freshener goes off every time I am in here. Wacky, huh?” It makes me wonder if I am one of the few people that it constantly tries to “freshen.”

To my knowledge, I do not stink, and I should know, I live with a woman who has no compunction telling me that I “stink like ass” or that I am “tangy… in a bad way.” She has on multiple occasions asked, “So, you ARE going to shower this morning, right?” I know full well that it is not a question, but that is beside the point. The point is that my work restroom seems to think that I need freshening. Every. Single. Time. I cannot constantly stink. (author’s note: I understand that I am opening myself to co-worker/friend/family ridicule here, and I am sure my comments will reflect many a person telling me that I stink. That is a chance I am willing to take.)

I bathe too often to be perpetually malodorous. My diet is typical enough that I should not be emanating a bizarre odor do to spices and such. Frankly I am at a loss.

To recap:
Not sure what is for dinner tonight
I am sure it will be good though
I need to sleep more
A lot more sleep
To my knowledge, I do not stink
My knowledge really is rather limited
My knowledge, however, is not rather The Limited
I am sure that many a commenter will let me know that I do, in fact, stink
Have a great weekend

Year End

What does one* write when one* is posting their last post for the year? Does one* do a yearly retrospective? Does one* look forward to the New Year? Does one* forgo a post all together and go straight to a recap? Does one* wax eloquent about the fickleness of the human concept of time and humanity’s primordial need to demark time into quantized measurable units? What exactly does one* do with the final post of a year?

I think one* should just get this post started already.

To completely disregard the entire end of year scenario, one*… er… I have decided that I shall buck all the trends for end of year posts and post about end of year posts. I will be illustrating Russell’s paradox. Via this post in a round about sort of way. You know, the whole scenario. The barber of a village (let’s call the village Seville) shaves every man who does not shave himself thing. Who shaves the baber?

Hey You! Welcome to my shop,
Let me cut your mop,
Let me shave your crop…. Daintily… daintily….

Hey You!
Why must you be vexed
Don’t look so perplexed,
Can’t you see you’re next.
Yes, you’re next!
You’re so next.

How about a nice close shave
Teach you whiskers to behave
Lots of lather
Lots of soap
Please hold still
Don’t be a dope
There is no use misbehaving
Can’t you see you need a SHAVE!

Umm, where was I? I could go on, but I won’t, although the cartoon is playing in my mind right now. I would like to think it is bragging, but the above quotes are from memory. Eat THAT! Oh yes, now to my post about posting. Looks like a Bunny shaves the barber in this instance...

Screw the post! I shall continue to quote from the book of Looney Tunes.

There, you’re nice and clean,
Athough you face looks like it
Might. Have. Gone. Through. A. ma-chine.

Ooooh, where do I get that Rabbit?
Oh, what do you want with that Rabbit?
Can’t you see that I’m much sweeter?
I’m your little Senorit-er.
You are just my type of guy,
Let me loosen your tie,
And I shall dance for you…

The opera devolves into a chase scene at this point.

To Recap:
It is going to be hard to remember to date things with 2007 next week
I will post something short and snarky on Monday
It will probably more about its shortness than its snarkishness
I love me some Rabbit of Seville
No really, all from memory
I have not even checked it with lyrics.com so there could be some errors
Th-Th-Th-Th
That’s all folks!
Happy 2006
Have a great and safe weekend everybody



* - “One” being defined as “SRH” in these instances

I am cantankerous

There are clearly levels of marketing that people attain. A marketing ladder, if you will, exists within the whole of the marketing industry. The upper echelon of that group are the big ad agencies who crank out top-flight commercials and print ads that bring relatively obscure companies to the limelight and fame and, of course, fortune. These players are the big dogs, so to speak. They reign from on high, looking down on the marketeers dreaming to be them, but they recognize that their reign is not going to be forever, so they constantly grow and expand their capabilities. Below them are the people in marketing that are doing everything in their power to become successful. It is a long ladder to be sure, but there is a bottom to that ladder, and it is not pretty.

Below the people who are doing their own ads on cable access are a couple of different marketing niches. The bottom rung of marketing is not a pretty place to be. We have all seen the bottom rung, and we have all been shamed by the inadequacies of that group of marketers. This rung of the marketing ladder has to deal with budgets that are clearly made from rotten persimmons and some used double sided tape. The “talent” (so to speak) is obviously mad up of non-paid junior high school interns and maybe some farm animals. "What marketing is this horrible?” you may ask. Go ahead, I will wait….

Good question. I will attempt to answer it.

The bottom rung of the marketing ladder are those poor saps who have to fill the ad space on movie screens prior to the start of movies, not the local ads either. These are the national chain ads for companies like Coca-Cola and Pepsi that ask insipid trivia questions about actors and movies while showing badly staged photos of carbonated beverages are shown spilling and splashing. The ads that ask you to unscramble the actor “OMT ANKSH” and gives clues like “was in Forrest Gump,” “was in Apollo 13,” “was in Big,” and “is actually spelled Tom Hanks.” You know what I am talking about. These people who make these marketing ads are the lowest of the low. They are lower than the people who make ads displayed on bus stop benches.

Whoa, SRH, wait a second. They aren’t that bad, are they? Yes, they are, and I will tell you why. They are that bad because they are working for multi-billion dollar giants like Coca-Cola. They might not be working for the cultural juggernaut itself, but they are working for it in some way because the “Coca-Cola” (or equivalent) logo is prominently displayed on the graphic being projected super big on the screen. They would do better with just still pics of the polar bears drinking Coke and no crappy movie/celeb trivia.

Could they at least come up with more challenging trivia. Stuff that will give one pause, and cause thoughts to occur. Not un-obscure word scrambles that… ummm I am going to stop now…

To recap:
I swear I am like 3 years away from “If that ball come in my yard I am keeping it!”
What kind of crodgetty crap did I just post?
I sound like I am old and really angry about it
Really, this is pretty pitiful
That is the category “Not about Christmas”
Not sure what we are having for dinner tonight
But I believe it will be tasty nonetheless
Good Lord I have to start up the exercise regime again
And before the New Year’s resolutioners get there
I need more PTO so I can take off time next week
Got the bulk of the Christmas cards in the mail today
The rest will go out soon
I lack a few addresses
I promise the post will be better tomorrow

Old project sweat stinks more

Not sure what is going on with the bidniz’s themostat today, but it is absolutely scorching in the office today. My forearms (not four arms á la Ganesh)

mmmmmm Sacrilege
are sticking to the desk. On Tangent: Okay, I was just going to post a benign pic of Ganesh, but Sweet French Onion Dip! why in the world would someone put a diety on a scooter for their website! Jesus on a scooter would never be acceptable, similarly with Mohammad. I obscured their website's URL in case they copyrighted their sacrilege, but if one wants to find it just do an "image" search on Google. Off Tangent The whole sticking to the desk thing really is quite disgusting. Everyone I am working with at the moment (more near than with. I am a crogetty curmudgeon from Anti-socialville) should be happy that I wore deodorant today. It was a whim, what can I say. I am really quite un-comfortable here at the moment. I even recognized that today was going to be unseasonably warm. I wore short sleeves and everything (everything defined as: shoes {Keen: Bronx}, socks {ummm Khaki-esque}, underwear {at least I am pretty sure I put them on}, pants {lighter khaki than my socks}, undershirt {deep mossy green, ooooooooh stylish}, and short sleeve button down {deep blue, but not navy blue}). Every time I feel the air move, even slightly I have hope that I will no longer be miserably sweating at my desk. Alas that is not to be. I will be soaked through and through before I leave this building.

To top it off, I was running around the building today to the various color printers that we have (none of which are located near people who actually print stuff out in color, but, most importantly, me.) to collate printouts of an entrance and exit plan for a local sports venue’s parking plan. A job, by the way, that I haven’t had to touch since January 22, 2006. That is one of the issues with my industry (Transportation Planning): Old projects never die. They linger on… forever and ever and ever and ever and ever… So, I have been working frantically all day for a project that ended in January. That is the way of things. The sweaty frantic way of things.

The printer is adding some weird artifacts to the prints. And it is a good 600 feet (183 meters for my metric readership) away. So far I have attempted 4 different fixes to get rid of the spurious white triangle that appears in the lower left corner of the prints, and none of them have worked (4800 fruitless feet of travel to and from my desk {1464 meters for the metric folk}). I am on my last possibility to make the prints print out correctly.

So here I am, sticking to my desktop, saturating the carpet around me with perspiration, and working on a project that we turned in a final report on in January. It has not been a stellar Wednesday for me. So, how is your day going?

To recap:
Why in the world would someone Photoshop Ganesh onto a scooter?
I mean, really, Ganesh would be all about the H3
Wifey is in Cincinnati this afternoon, not to return until 8 this evening
I am not sure what I am going to feed Little Man tonight
I need to do laundry
I need some sleep
Tomorrow is the section Holiday Hootnanny
We are going bowling
I can wait
I can most assuredly wait

Snippet, Snippet Real Good!

Okay, so Wifey did this a week ago and I thought to myself, “That is an absolutely great idea! How can I steal it and make it sound like I came up with it on my own?” Well, I guess one way I could make it seem more like my own is if I don’t start out the post with where I got the idea. Good Lord! I suck at claiming credit for stuff I didn’t do. Anyway, the idea trail associated with this post started probably in time immemorial, but the furthest I will trace it back is as far as Wifey did, because I am lazy. Wifey got the post idea from here, and Kristi got it from here. Done and done. No more trail of meme to be dealt with.

Okay, now the concept. These are the 10 best song snippets that I can come up with today. These are not necessarily the best songs, although many are really good songs, the idea here is not to talk about the best songs ever, just the best snippets of songs. It is a much more daunting task than one might think. I have also decided in my benevolent wisdom that I shall not use the same band twice. Deal with it, I am benevolently wise. Similarly, I have tried to not include any songs created primarily for movie soundtracks. The reasoning behind this is: “Movie soundtrack elements are inextricably intertwined with the scenes of the movie from which they are within. Many mediocre memorable snippets of music are associated very heavily with incredibly well-done memorable movie snippets.” I don’t know who I am quoting here, (especially since I made up the quote) but it looks good. Ergo no Kenny Loggins.

Here it goes, in no particular order:

1 The end of Etta James’s At Last. Oh, my goodness golly goshness, that last “at last” that she softly belts out at the end of the song. Goosebumps everytime. Every. Single. Time.

2 REM’s It’s the End of the World as We Know It (and I Feel Fine)’s quintessential moment is when the song takes a grand pause and Michael Stipe drones out “Leonard Bernstein.” With a rapid fire litany of names and events that many a drunk college student cannot possibly hope to keep up with, there is a glorious pause and raucous unison of drunken voices lifting up into the night air, “Leonard Bernstein!”

3 The now defunct Soundgarden was one of the most underrated bands of the grunge era in the early to mid 90’s. At the beginning of, Searching with my Good Eye Closed, prior to the beginning of the song proper, a see and say says, “A cow says: ‘Moo.’ The Devils says: ‘ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOHHH….” and then the actual song starts Absolutely gorgeous beginning to a pretty good song.

4 Georg Friedrich Händel’s Halleluiah Chorus from The Messiah. I like it when they sing Halleluiah.

5 Pearl Jam is a favorite band of mine. Not as much of a fan as Wifey, but a fan nonetheless. Ten is their most recognized album and it was their first. Many people feel that they were never able to recapture the magic of Ten and honestly, they are correct. One cannot trap lightning in a bottle twice. One their songs that could never be on the radio due to the F-bomb being dropped as word number 3, Porch starts out with a primal noise that only Eddie Vedder (for Wifey) can deliver. That is the snippet I am talking about.

6 Tool’s sophomore effort Undertow had a “hidden” track on it. Track 69 is the song Disgustapated. Buried within this song is an odd percussion instrument, a .357 magnum. Listening to the rhythmic firing of the handgun in a song is quite a moving experience. There are some really powerful lyrics that Tool has generated. There is a primal-ness in their music that is intoxicating and unrelenting. The hidden track’s atypical percussion epitomizes this primality.

7 The Police’s beginning and ending of King of Pain.

There’s a little black spot on the sun today,
It’s the same old spot as yesterday

Symmetry

8 LL Cool J’s Mamma Said Knock You Out when he growls out “I’m gonna knock you out!” Makes me happy every time I hear it.

9 Les Claypool’s (he did the South Park theme song) concept band, Primus, really “made it” when Tommy the Cat got some airtime on commercial radio in 1991. The album was Sailing the Seas of Cheese, but Tommy the Cat is not the song I am talking about. I am focusing on the title track Sailing the Seas of Cheese. For this super short song (a snippet in its own right), as far as I know and as legend has it, Les plays his bass with a bow. Badass

10 Cake is an underrated band. They are quite possibly my favorite band. They are who I turn to when I am not craving listening to anything specific. There are a couple of snippets that I would select, but I have decided to go with the spoken word beginning of Never There. It is just a great song beginning. Just great. Amazing even.

I need your arms around me,
I need to feel your touch,
I need you understanding,
I need your love… So much.

There you have it 10 snippets worth mentioning, and my favorites for today.

To recap:
At home today with a sick Little Man
He isn't real sick, but sick enough to need to miss pre-school and stay away from caregivers with comprimised immune ystems
I have consciously omitted Rage Against the Machine
There was no one RATM moment that out-weighed the tastiness of the entire rest of the RATM catalogue
Also I have refrained from U2 for similar reasons
Except with U2 there were some real duds
I think I am partial to song beginnings
If i did a list again tomorrow, it would be a different 10
Wifey is going out of town this weekend
Little Man and I are going to par-té!
Not really
I will be a mess when she gets back on Tuesday
I am sure that Monday and Tuesday’s post ill be rather scattered
Have a great weekend
Save us…

Nothing

I got nothing today, so straight to the recap.

To recap:
Nope, nothing to post today
I will attempt to stretch out the recap to make this interesting
All the sudden it feels like the office is rather warm
It is raining right now
I need new pics of Little Man on my cube wall
"Start, horny cat!" is an anagram for my name
I want to take a nap
Made Faux French Toast for dinner last night
The secret is in the Soy Sour Cream!
That’s right fake sour cream helps to make fake French toast
Mrs. Butterworth’s Lite syrup has not a bit of butter in it
Why do marketeers force words like “Lite” on us?
Little Man doesn’t really like bacon so much
I had 8.5 strips of bacon yesterday evening
I love me some bacon
Little Man does like sausage though
This weekend he ate 6 links in one sitting
4 of the 6 were going to be his mama’s
She likes sausage too
She ate 14 links in one sitting as well
She wasn’t really paying attention to how many she was eating
Her mom had 5, I had 5, and the 24 pack of sausage was gone
She didn’t feel so good that night
Needless to say she monitors her sausage intake better now
I also ate a full dozen Krsipey Kreme glazed doughnuts one time
I was just eating them without thinking and all of the sudden, my belly was rather full and there were only 2 left in the box
At that point it became a challenge
I didn’t feel so hot all the next day
Trying to find a good dairy free, egg-free recipe for cut out cookies
Must be soft, airy, and delicious
So far we have found hard, crunchy, and tasteless
Tomorrow is that day that my house goes completely digital
Time Warner people will be over to hook up our digital phones and give us a nice new DVR for our digital cable
DVR---
That King Arthur special on History International?
Recorded
That episode of Heroes that I missed because I spent an extra 30 minutes on the elliptical? Recorded
The Facts of Life Reunion show on Lifetime (don’t ask)?
Recorded
Oh, my active life has ended.
Wifey, you brought this upon yourself….
Have a great weekend everyone

Minor Deities

Well, it seems that the exercise routine looks like it is being endorsed by higher powers. Last night’s work-out was not punctuated by tornadic funnel clouds slowly alighting to the ground. So I had to actually force my lazy butt to do the entire work-out. Well, crap. Now the gods have decided that I am a lard-ass, and need to skinny myself up. Thanks a whole bunch guys.

I would have thought that Neufchatel, the God of Cheesecake, would have stepped up to the plate and gotten some anti-cyclone activity going for my non-exercising benefit. But noooooo, not one minor deity of uselessness tried to free me from my elliptical torture.

Another sad side effect of this new found exercisism is that I now do not want to even remotely get out of bed in the morning. Thanks for that Exercismo (The God of Exercise and Sveltness), you jerk! My shoulder is all achy, my back is stiff, and my neck is tight. My bad knee is taunting my worse knee and my ankle protests most of my movements. The only thing on me that doesn’t seem to be rebelling against the tender ministrations of Exercismo is whatever part of the body is in charge of creating sarcasm. I think that might be the spleen, but I am not sure.

I thought exercise was supposed to help. Fat lot of help it is right now, I will tell you that. All I am getting out of it at the moment is some soreness and a good bit of bitterness. (Which I’m sure pleases Acrimonious, the God of Bad Attitudes). I guess this is just what one gets when they have been a lazy lump of poo for a good long time.

I am pretty sure that Reducio, The Goddess of Dieting, is waiting around the corner to attack my bulbous frame. To make matters worse, I won’t be able to fend her off because I will be sore from all this annoying exercise. Oh well, I guess at 32 it is time to try to get healthier. I don’t know why 32 is it, but that is when it seems to be happening for me.

To recap:
I am quite whiney about exercise
I need to start staying on the elliptical for 45 minutes, not just 30
Do Minor Deities have to sit at the kid’s table at the God and Goddesses’ banquets?
I may be sore all over, but at least I still have my meager mental faculties
Hyperbole is the God of Exaggeration
Hopefully I will get past this initial sore stage soon
Maybe some new exercise shoes will help
I am sure my fencing shoes from 1996 probably aren’t giving me the support they should
Yeah, I fenced in college
Psst… Wanna buy a watch?
My fencing master said that I had promise
I loved responding to his directions with “Yes, My… Master” in my best Darth Vader voice
Which was really enhanced by the fencing mask
He didn’t really find it funny
Other people in the class found it funny
But not those suck up foils
Suck ups!
Have a great weekend

Remover








Fewer things look so intimidating and yet fail to deliver on their threat than the “claw” staple remover. I mean look at them, they are rather scary looking. They got big gnashing teeth meant to mangle metal fasteners. They are spring-loaded, steel-bending implements of destruction. But their teeth cannot open up wide enough to truly scare a co-worker. I might as well crumple up some paper or get a rubber band to make the office mates cower in fear. The staple remover, just does only what its name implies. It removes staples.

In today’s world of multi-tasking, shouldn’t the staple remover do more than merely “remove staples?” Shouldn’t it I be able to turn it into an instrument of death if and when the Cannibal Department carries out its “hostile take over and cook-out” of the Transportation Department? What do my bosses expect me to defend myself with? Scissors? Come one?! I’m not allowed to even run with them….and everyone knows that scissor action stresses your rotator cuff, and I’m already weak in that area.

The “jaws” don’t open up enough to get a finger between the removers’ sharp “incisors.” If I can’t even get my finger in, I am sure that zombie armies are not going to cower at the sight of me wielding them two-fisted ninja-style!. Couldn’t they at least make the darn things look less lethal? As it is, the unknowing might think they are protected with a set of these in their pockets, but they aren’t safe, they aren’t safe at all. They would do better with a brick.

As a kid I referred to these should be death dealers as “chomps.” They terrorized many an action figure in my youth.


Author’s note: I know that technically Snake Eyes should not be able to say “Eep!!” but the pic needed the exclamation to work, so deal with it.

Oh, Cobra never had it so good as when they employed the staple remover. Many a GI Joe cowered at the sight of the advancing line of over-sized office tools.



To recap
Staple Remover ≠ weapon
Unless of course you are a bad guy action figure
Blogger is giving me fits today
Little Man and I had a fight yesterday
It was about staying in his car seat while the car is moving
I won
He was not happy I won, nor at the tactics I employed
FYI: I did not use a staple remover to win
Breathe Right Nasal Strips may save my marriage and ruin the beauteous skin of my nose

The dream is dead

This weekend I came to a realization. A realization that I think my subconscious did not want to… ummm… realize. (AUTHOR’S NOTE: wow, I realized a realization? Aren’t I something special?) I realized that even if I got myself into my peak performance condition, increased my footwork skills, and brought my tactical knowledge up to snuff, I would still be too old to play the game of soccer professionally. The dream is really dead. Now, I know full well that even at the height of my abilities I was not good enough or even on the track to be even remotely professional level, and I understand that I have never been in the physical shape necessary to even seriously think about playing, but I was at least young enough that if I did have the talent and the physical abilities it could be a possibility. Not so now. I am just plain too old.

Looking at most professional sports, my mere 32 years of age puts me over the average age of the professional athlete. Don’t get me wrong, there are still some people who play well into their mid-30’s, but these people are the exception to the rule. Most pro careers tend to end after the tender age of 26, it seems. Superstars typically last until the ripe old age of 31 to 33. Well, dear readers, I am 32 and even if I were at the pinnacle of performance for all of my 32 years, I probably would not be able to hang with the 22 year olds “knocking the ball around the pitch” these days.

This saddens me somewhat. I am officially too old for the dream. The fantasy doesn’t even have a glimmer of possibility anymore. Woe is me! Woe is me! For I am too old to be “Man of the Match” even in my dreams. My fantasy will now consist of the guy in the stands who deftly and quickly returns the ball to the pitch so the home team can restart play and maintain the fast break advantage. Ooooooh, doesn’t that sound like a great sports fantasy? Yeah, it does suck. Maybe I will be the one who purchases the ticket that pushes the team’s profits high enough that they can afford the next superstar. It is to dream. Or maybe I am the old guy in the stands that shouts, “For Chrissake! Shoot the Damn Ball!” at just the correct volume and pitch that the striker thinks it is his own internal monologue causing him to shoot a wicked ball into the upper right hand corner just past the outstretched keeper’s fingers. Now that is a sport’s fantasy.

Maybe I will just have to start fantasizing vicariously through Little Man. I am sure he is going to be the next asthmatic 16 year old phenom who is going to be snatched up by the… let’s say Tottenham Hotspurs youth developmental system. Because, really, that is what Tottenham really needs; a 16 year old Yankee asthmatic with some severe food allergies. His nickname could be “The Yankee Wheeze.”

To recap
The Yankee Wheeze is doing much better today
I think we are having some sort of soup for dinner tonight
I will only be working a half day tomorrow
I just got out of a 5 hour long “webinar” meeting
I was really close to clawing my eyes out during the “webinar”
Capt. McArmypants is deploying for Middle Eastern desert duty sometime next year
Both he and I wish he were deploying for Middle Eastern dessert duty
At least I haven't gotten too old to save the world from blood-thirsty aliens in my fantasies
Tomorrow’s 20 questions is a continuation of the cereal questions
People are oddly interested in breakfast cereal

Maybe I shouldn't be exercising

I think a higher power might be trying to tell me something. I started a new exercise regime 2 weeks ago. The idea was that on Monday and Wednesday nights I would go to the gym and get some cardio in followed by some resistance training. On Tuesday and Thursday nights Wifey was going to go to her yoga classes and get her exercise in as well. We would both be getting healthier and all we would be giving up would be our evening meals together (when we realized this we started coming up with alternatives, but they are still being worked out so for the time being this is the schedule).

So in the past 2 weeks I have been to the gym 3 times (I did not go on Monday due to family illnesses). 2 of those 3 times while I was on the elliptical machine (I have a bad knee and a worse knee) the Emergency Broadcast System has issued a tornado warning for Franklin County. A “warning” not a “watch!” Warnings mean that there is rotation in the clouds or someone has actually seen a funnel of some form. Basically, a warning means that there is a tornado. The thing might not have touched down, but it is there. So 2 of the 3 times I have gone to work out, the weather has turned tornadic. What the heck is that about?

I really think some higher power is trying to tell me not to work out. I can listen to a higher power. That is something on which I can get “on message.” If there is severe weather this upcoming Wednesday I think my exercising regime might be overhauled to eating pretzels while watching Oprah or something. What do the higher powers have against me exercising anyway? So far all it has done is made me sore. Really sore. Painfully sore, even. Maybe the powers that be don’t want to see me in pain. Personally I think they want to do away with me via a localized anti-cyclonic meteorological event. They aren’t out there trying to protect my sense of non-achiness.

To recap:
Exercising sucks
Tornados suck
No really
They suck
I mean it
Their destructive power is brought about through massive amounts of sucking
My shoulders are killing me
Left-overs for dinner tonight
Tornadic is really a word despite what MS Word’s dictionary might say
I need some sleep
Have a great weekend

TV

There are many things that have changed ion my life since the introduction of Little Man to the family. One of which is my TV viewership. Prior to Little Man I watched TV all the time. There were shows that were “must sees.” I would schedule life around these shows. I could schedule life around these shows. I knew everything about them. I followed them like the good fanboi that I was. There was nothing about these shows that I could not engage in a lengthy discourse on their minutia. I was that kind of TV viewer. It was my hay-day for TV. VCR’s had just become obsolete, and TIVO was still in its infancy. HDTV was around the corner, and I was all about it. We had gotten rid of our VCR and still have not gotten TIVO or DVR. If we couldn’t watch it live, we didn’t watch it. Ergo my scheduling of the life around the TV.

Enter Little Man. I re-prioritized the life. I changed things up. I basically gave up TV for dead. I steeled myself so that I could endure years of Baby Einstein, Noggin, Playhouse Disney, and the Wiggles. I gave up on primetime TV for the ritual of getting my kid to sleep (he is a sleep fighter. It pretty much took all of primetime TV for him to relinquish his purchase on consciousness. Only recently has he determined that going to sleep might not be a bad thing. Operative word there is “might.” He still needs convincing nightly about the wonder that is sleep.) Anyway… I gave up on any TV that any kind of storyline, much less a story arc that spanned multiple episodes. I just did not have the time to follow a story through. Luckily most shows in the past 3 + years have focused almost entirely on Reality TV. I have not gotten into any of them, and I find the very thought of them repulsive.

I subsisted on TV consumption surrounding house remodels and 30 minutes cooking shows. I would occasionally catch an Inside the Actor’s Studio, NOVA, or something on the History Channel if I had an hour to spend watching TV. Child duty and house cleanup due to trying to sell the house limited those hour blocks, but I got by. HGTV and The Food Network became my nightly TV morphine. I had given up on Discovery Channel due to its constant neo-bluecollarism. TLC had let me down with it’s supstandard programming as well. The digital channels have not really helped out much either. TechTV went away and was replaced with g4tv. All the tech information was replaced with digital game information. The Discovery Time Channel became the 911 channel. The Science Channel forgot that science is more than building things really big or astronomy. My only saving grace has been Fox Soccer Channel (much to Wifey’s chagrin).

All the while I have resisted the temptation to get some kind of DVR for the TV. I find the very thought of being able to watch shows when I want to watch them absolutely mesmerizing. There are too many shows out there that I could actually get into. Getting a DVR for me would be like moving in next door to a bar for an alcoholic. It is a slippery slope that I would be treading before I was DVR-ing everything and staying up until 3am every night to catch whatever the Hell I thought I should be watching. I would end up DVR-ing Simpsons and Family Guy and watching the 17 various syndicated versions being re-run on all the myriad of Ted Turner stations.

I saw Heros on Monday night and now I am starting to figure out ways to make sure I am home at 9pm Monday evenings. It was followed by Studio 60 which could end up making Monday night a sit in front if the TV for 2 hours kind of night. Great, just what I needed. I reason to make sure I am home on Monday nights.

To Recap:
I am too lazy to link today
No idea what we are doing for dinner tonight
I need to cancel a gym membership this evening
I need to get a membership to a different gym tomorrow
Wifey and I have figured out an exercise schedule that we can both work with
It involves the potential of me not being home Monday nights at 9
But Heroes is on TV Monday nights at 9…
What to do, what to do…
Have a great weekend

Hair: Not the Musical

So, the curls are gone. The curls are so gone, that yesterday the first thing Little Man said to me when I picked him up was “Papa haircut.” I guess it has been a long time coming. Virtually tons of hair was removed from my head. My head seems insanely lighter. This morning’s shower saw way more shampoo than necessary make it into my hand. I almost ended up having too much lather for the poor showerhead to disperse quickly. You know the time in the shower when you have to continually adjust the hot and cold water to keep the same temperature. Well, I was down to 1/4th turn left on the cold. It was close. I almost ran out of hot water just trying to lather, rinse, repeat and then condition on top of all that. To top it off a good handful of Head & Shoulders just goes down the drain. Yes, I use a dandruff control hair product on occasion. What of it? Stop judging me and my light-blue, scalp fleck stopping* shampoo (what a fun word to type, shampoo shampoo shampoo shampoo shampoo shampoo shampoo shampoo shampoo shampoo shampoo shampoo shampoo shampoo. Yep still fun after 16 times.) Now my shampoo is nearly gone. Gone, I say! GONE!!

Anyway… when I got back from the hair salon I go to coworkers were surprised by the amount of hair that was lopped off. Yes, I actually go to a Salon. I made the mistake of getting a nice haircut once and since then the $10.00 with the local Crappy Cuts (as far as I know a fictional hair cutting institution) just don’t, well, cut it anymore. Same issue happened with the purchase of a really nice pair of shoes, but that is neither here nor there. Regardless of my preferred coifing institution, a few of the coworkers were complimentary of the new haircut, while some were disparaging of the previous cut. (Uncalled for really) Some asked if I felt like a cleanly shorn Sampson, but, alas, I would have had to have been strong with my hair for me to have felt weakened by the lack of it.

What is it about haircuts that causes people to openly and brazenly comment about the style and whether or not they like it? Haircuts are the most often commented upon physical appearance component where people will give their honest opinion. If someone doesn’t like my haircut, they will often go out of the way to tell me that my haircut looks like crap to them. In these instances I assure them that I did not cut my hair for them and that they probably shouldn’t wear whatever they are wearing because it makes them seem a bit on the wrong side of skinny ( If you know what I’m sayin? Fat, rotund, obese, chunky, husky, big-boned, heavyset, plump, beefy in the “what’s not for dinner” way, dumpy, hefty, fleshy, corpulent, etc… ). Even if that is not the case, I tell them that anyway. It is just how I am. You know, nice like that.

To recap
Now that I am clean cut and probably will be invited back to meetings with clients
Last thing Little Man said to me last night was “Papa haircut.”
He talks a whole bunch where it transitions directly from “subject” to “direct object/predicate nominative” with using a verb
It makes diagramming his sentences a bit difficult
Wow, ↑↑↑ I need a new hobby
I am quite tired today
I think it will be pancakes for dinner
Yet again
I am really tired of pancakes
Heck, who am I kidding
I am just plain tired
Have a great weekend, everyone
And stop talking about my hair, Tubby!

* In hindsight the phrasing should have been “scalp fleck stopping light-blue shampoo” (18 times and still fun) to clarify that “light-blue” modifies “shampoo” (19) and not scalp flecks. Umm... Shampoo (20)

Analog

I gots me the smooth, cool ride I had forgotten I owned. Yeah, my ’02 Jetta is purring like, well, a 4 year old cat named, ummm… Spankers. Yeah, sure Spankers. Spankers is a 4 year old ginger tabby who a kind of a stand-offish cat who requires lots of presents to start purring. It is one of those cats that prior to being lavished with gifts takes to meowing constantly when you stop moving for a second, and just kind of whines miserable while you flit about the room accomplishing tasks. Always meowing like a wounded pig whenever you slow down. It is a pig whose feet hurt, thus causing it to run about in a very haphazard manner. It is very difficult to manage the movements and direction of a wounded pig (otherwise I would have come up with a different analogy, clearly), especially one with bad feet. The pig is so difficult to manage that you tend to keep your child away from the pig, lest he bite said child. Sure you have to direct the pig daily, always in constant fear of dealing with the enraged wounded pig in difficult terrain. Oddly the pig’s condition did not deteriorate over time, so that less drastic measures could have been taken to help heal the cat… pig… where was I? Oh, yes, pig analogy. Preventative porcine medicine might have helped the bill not be so large. Wait a second I was in the middle of a cat analogy with Spankers starring as the disgruntled feline. Back to Spankers, the loud needing attention 4-year old ginger tabby. Sure a couple of times you probably slowed down and stopped on Spankers’s tail, but that only caused Spankers to howl like a cat in pain and shudder violently trying to free his tail from under your size 10.5 shoes (42 or 43 for my British readers). It took about $1000 worth of presents to get what will most likely turn out being about 1 year of purring. The good thing is that Spankers doesn’t meow and only peeps up once to let me know that he is hungry.

Okay, maybe I am not the best at analogies.

Anyway… A tune up accompanied with all sorts of soft engine crap getting replaced and having the rear brakes overhauled seems to have made a world of difference in the car. Sure, just throw close to 5% of the car’s original price at it and it runs smoothly. According to Edmunds.com it is currently worth just under $10,000 so by dumping 10% of it existing worth back into the vehicle, it now runs smoothly. That hurts. That hurts a whole bunch. Wow, I never should have figured out the relative percentages. That just plain hurts even more. That just plain hurts even more a whole bunch!

At least the dealership vacuumed the car for me. While I was getting beat up by the toughs in the billing department (I think his name was Helmut Voeller, and he was mean) Hans Gentlehandz was sublimely vacuuming out the interior. And they vacuumed it for free! So at least I got that going for me. My wallet hurt, but aesthetically I was pleased with the look of my vehicle, because not only did they vacuum, they washed the beast as well. For free! Or $1000.

Did I mention that I HATE car repairs!

To recap:
Stupid car repairs!
10% of current worth, sheesh!
I am not so good at the analogy
So, I will stick with hyperbole
Not sure what is going on for dinner tonight
Might make hamburgers or I might make some tacos
Really don’t know what dinner will consist of
I think I will ask Little Man when I pick him up
Problem with tacos is that I have to make the salsa
Problem with the burgers is that we don’t have buns
Wifey is Yoga-ing tonight
I really need to start exercising again
Who thinks I should update my profile?
One of these days I am going to redesign this blog
And then you will all be sorry
Mainly because everything will be borked up
Have a great weekend folks!

I HATE car repairs

So I had to take my car into the shop today. Now I am not terribly mechanically inclined, but when the rear tire areas (driver and passenger sides) make a nasty grinding noise as I decelerate and start moving from a stop, that is not a good thing. As a car owner, I have had bad brakes before, and I am fairly certain that this issue is not a brake issue either. This is bad, bad, bad. I am glad that I am getting it taken care of, but I am afraid that this is going to be a fairly pricy repair coupled with my 40K mile servicing. I am not looking forward to this bill. Luckily, we have enough built up in our savings account to deal with this. This is why we have the savings account, but it is always painful to dip into savings for any reason. Wifey and I would probably just have wasted the money anyway on something non-useful like a trip back to Europe or a vacation or something else non-worthwhile.

Car repairs are a bit infuriating and intimidating for those of us who did not grow up elbows deep in the hood of a car. I know enough about cars to understand the basics of the internal combustion engine, but not enough to speak intelligently about what exactly a brake caliper does, but I know that they exist and that has to count for something. Now, this post is not intended to have any comments on what calipers do. I can look that up if I wish, the point is, for those of us not mechanically trained or inclined, we typically (yes, I am speaking for all of us) feel at the mercy of the mechanic to treat us equitably and fairly.

I am feeling rather car repair vulnerable today, because I know that I am being slung over a barrel, so to speak. That, and we are currently still dealing with the dealership’s service center. While crap is still under warrantee, we feel that we should use their services, but this is the last time we go there. I know, I know the dealership mechanics always cost more. I am well aware of that, and in a few months, the warrantee will go away and so will my patronage of their service center.

Currently, I am still waiting for information as to what the issue is and how much the issue will cost. My gut feeling is that it is not the brakes. My gut also feels like it is going to cost me an arm and a leg to fix.

To recap:
I hate car woes
Little Man did great yesterday
Wifey has a cute pic of him in his rain jacket on the way to pre-school
I just got a call from the Service Center
It was the brakes
They went from fine and noiseless to making grinding noises without any transition
I am not sure they actually fixed the issue
We will see when I pick the car up
I hate car stuff
Hate it with a passion that rivals the heat of 1000 stars
Hopefully you will have a post about how wonderfully the car is working tomorrow
I hate car repairs!

That Bothers Me

Okay, the writing for work is done and over with (redundant and repetitive), so now I should be able to focus on the important writing at hand: a blog post.

So this post should be pretty wiz-bang, but alas and alack, it is not. In fact, most people reading today’s post will leave wanting. I would say that bothers me, but then I would be talking to myself about my blog in my cube at work to no one in particular... again. I would rather not look even crazier at work… again. I think I have un-hinged and crazy kind of in the bag, but random comments like “That bothers me” might put the co-workers of over the edge. Sure my e-mail conversations with cryptozoologicals and unbridled hate of hippos hasn’t pushed them over the edge…yet, but saying out loud to no one in particular “That bothers me” would ice that cake. Although, now that I think about it, “That bothers me” is the cubical equivalent of “Well, crap.” So there is always the possibility that that phrase really wouldn’t cause a coworker to bat an eye. (Why is “batting an eye” okay, but if you are caught “eying a bat” you are some sort of perverted deviant? Oh, wait, I get it now. Never mind.) I am sure if I actually said “that bothers me” the most I will get from someone sitting near me is a “what bothers you?” I would then most likely respond with something non-committal like “This thing going on with my computer.” Then the person would ask, “Oh really? What’s going on with your computer?” and I would have to reply with “Just some weird stuff… Oh, it fixed itself, never mind.” Because that is a plausible answer, but they would still be thinking to themselves, “What an odd duck.” and I would probably say out loud, "Screw you, I am not an 'odd duck!'" Well, let me tell you I don’t want to be THAT guy!

So whatever I do today, it will not be saying to no one in particular “That bothers me.” That would be plain silly, and start many a conversation with people that I really do not want to have.

To recap:
I am tired
20 Questions Tuesday: 9 tomorrow
Tired is not a good way to start out the week
That happens though
Weekly, at least for me
I haven’t had a good hippo post recently
Or a good Yeti one either.
I will have to work on that
The Yeti could help out a bit though...
I leave you with a pic of the boy
He has a hard time letting us take pictures of him
He always wants to see the screen on the other side of the camera
He thinks it will have a train movie on it
He thinks everything with a screen shows train movies

Labor Day

What can I say? It is a holiday and we are holidaying. Is that a verb? Well, if not I have verbified it.

To recap:
Minimal post today
20 Questions Tuesday to be unleashed tomorrow
I cannot say that I am surprised that Steve Irwin was killed by an animal
I am surprised it was not a reptile that killed him
I am bit saddened by his passing
He was clearly a man who enjoyed life to its fullest
We need to get to the grocery store
The cupboards are bare
Well, not entirely bare
I have to get back to playing with Little Man and Wifey

Awwww, Nuts!

Okay, I don’t quite understand this necessity of Wifey. I understand that when she gets a culinary craving, and I mean serious, get out of her way craving, that she must sate that craving rather quickly. I also understand that I am often the beneficiary of her impromptu baking flurries. She will get a craving and suddenly need, NEED I tell you, brownies, cookies, fudge, etc… That evening, whatever evening it is, she will bake ferociously (sometimes into the wee hours of the morning) until her baked goods are completed and cooling on a rack somewhere.

Side Note: I feel it necessary that everyone know the Wifey does not tend to have these craving terribly often. Maybe once every 2 or 3 months… at most. It is probably much less often than that, if I really think about it.

Anyway… to the point of this post. Why in the name of Ba’al, the pre-operative transgender god/dess*, does Wifey insist on putting nuts in everything she bakes. Walnuts, almonds, pecans, peanuts, etc… in fudge, brownies, and cookies. Nary a damn baked good comes out of our oven that she has prepared that does not have some nut (“nut” not Nut, the Egyptian Goddess of the Sky) embedded within its baked goodness.

Now, I am not here to just rant against adding hard shelled seeds to bakes goods. I am ranting about adding hard shelled seeds to ALL her baked goods. Baked goods do not always need a nut in them. Cookies don’t have to contain a walnut piece or almond sliver before that are considered a cookie. Heck, she even wants white cake to be frikkin’ “White ALMOND Cake.” Lay off the nuts, Wifey! Wait, that was phrased poorly. Let me try again. Ummm… nope, there really isn’t a good way to phrase that one. Just disregard this post entirely. This post is over, folks! Just, move along. Move along…

To recap:
I have a splitting headache
Looks like Fluffy the Pine Marten has decided to take residence in my skull again

We determined that last night’s brownies were the last nutty baked goods that she will be producing in our kitchen due to Little Man’s allergies
When he wasn’t all over the place, it was not so bad to get some walnut dust and scrapings on the counter
Now, it could be a problem
Pancakes and sausage for dinner
Everyone have a good weekend



*note: A friend of mine figures that Ba’al is out there just waiting for someone to recognize him/her as a god, but then, when hears how he is being referenced, the god/dess is distraught about his/her characterization. It is just a little trick we like to play on the Babylonian Mythos. It is the equivalent of a prank call on a diety.