Tuesday, October 26, 2010
I've Had 3 Coffees This Morning But Not Drank One
And how is this possible?
1. Coffee #1 (from McDonalds) smelled so much like cigarettes I could not drink it. (YUCK!).
2. Coffee #2 (7-11) I knocked over reaching for something else. Great guys at 7-11, they first asked if I was ok; had a mop handy; and said get another coffee.
3. Coffee #3 sits to my right. Let's hope this one works.
So, how is YOUR morning going?
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Promises
Ok, I've decided to write SOMETHING at least once a week.
SOMETHING
Just kidding. But I make no promises on quality of content. You get what you pay for folks . . .
So, on to Office Supply Stores.
I adore office supply stores. As the offspring of a draftsman (ohh, such a non-PC word now!), I grew up with pencils, colored pencils (is it ok to call them colored?), more paper to draw on than I could have ever used, blueprints to unroll and draw on, erasers of every type, and gadgets for all the above (have you ever seen a manual grinder that dulls the tip of a pencil so it doesn't tear? I had one. Actually "manual grinder" sounds like a bad, but descriptive, porn name now that I think of it. But I digress.)
The point is (point. manual grinder. I slaaay me.) that when I walk into one of those cavernous shrines to work and the home office, I am filled with a sense of . . . well, hope. Hope that I could be as organized, productive, and coordinated as all of the wares promise.
It hasn't happened yet, but I still get a warm sense of awe everytime those OfficeDepotMax doors open.
SOMETHING
Just kidding. But I make no promises on quality of content. You get what you pay for folks . . .
So, on to Office Supply Stores.
I adore office supply stores. As the offspring of a draftsman (ohh, such a non-PC word now!), I grew up with pencils, colored pencils (is it ok to call them colored?), more paper to draw on than I could have ever used, blueprints to unroll and draw on, erasers of every type, and gadgets for all the above (have you ever seen a manual grinder that dulls the tip of a pencil so it doesn't tear? I had one. Actually "manual grinder" sounds like a bad, but descriptive, porn name now that I think of it. But I digress.)
The point is (point. manual grinder. I slaaay me.) that when I walk into one of those cavernous shrines to work and the home office, I am filled with a sense of . . . well, hope. Hope that I could be as organized, productive, and coordinated as all of the wares promise.
It hasn't happened yet, but I still get a warm sense of awe everytime those OfficeDepotMax doors open.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Life on the Serengeti - Watch out for Boa Constrictors?
Ok, I've been told I've been morose (et tu brute?), so for fun, here is another installment of the Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom of Dating - also known as "Life on the Serengeti."
Banishing Snakes on St. Patrick's Day, 2010
Well, green is the color of the day and perhaps I'm too green to be dating again. A four-hour phone chat with "Chris" (perhaps his real name, perhaps not, I'm not protecting the innocent here as I don't think there are any!) and emails, then text messages, flying back and forth. We seem to click on a lot of levels - travel, work, sense of humor. Chris tries to convince me that I should meet him for a drink the next day, St. Patrick's Day. I don't want to - I don't "observe" St. Patty's Day - like NYE there are too many amateurs out there.
But he insists until I cave in. I should have spotted the slithering.
On St. Patty's Day Chris bombards me with text messages: He's leaving work early to hang out with his buddies, why don't I leave work early and meet him? I refuse, but don't see he has already coiled around my foot. He cajoles me: Why don't I cancel my long-awaited after-work hair appointment I have that night and meet him? I refuse, but don't notice he's got my leg now.
As I finish at the salon, we still haven't decided when/where to meet. I'm a bit frustrated as he has been nipping at me for days now on meeting but seems nonchalant at this point. As you know from the nature shows, the Boa Constrictor waits for its prey to exhale, then coils tighter . . . and he had me flustered – I breathed out.
Chris calls - "I'll just pick you up," he says authoritatively. "At your house."
(Voice of Marlin Perkins: "The Boa has moved upwards, and is slowly starting to constrict.")
So, Chris meets me at my house. He's a bit "friendly/touchy" - kissing me before we get out the door – snakes sense with their tongues, yes? And I make sure we get out the door. Apparently I've noticed there is something moving on me.
So, to the bars! As we walk up Woodward, there is a bagpiper playing and walking down the street. Yes, that’s Scottish, but “whatever!” it’s St. Patty’s Day! I drape the piper in one of the strands of beads Chrisss (oh, let’s just add the “sss” sound to his name now) and I are wearing.
As we start into Dino’s, Chrisss has my hand and leads me through the bar. I think it charming at the time, not realizing the Boa is moving upwards. We have a drink here, then leave for another watering hole.
At Danny’s, we chat with a young woman. She calls Chrisss my “boyfriend” – and Chrisss offers to buy shots, her choice. She goes with Patron. The Boa recoils a bit at this, he doesn’t like tequila. But it’s her choice so we down the shot. The woman invites us to another section of the bar as it is her birthday and she wants us to party with her and her pals. I’m game but Chrisss doesn’t want to go. (Marlin Perkins: “As we see, the Boa will isolate itself and its prey from other animals in able to complete the kill.”)
So, to the Post we go. I challenge Chrisss to pinball. And I am kicking his ass – this prey still has use of her arms. Chrisss gets behind me while I am playing. While his hugging (constricting?) is mildly distracting, the Boa decides on making a bold move . . . and shoves both his hands down my skirt.
The prey is suddenly alert! And screaming! I grab his hands and drag him out to the patio where I turn on the Boa and ask WTF? (Not to mention the lost pinball credits of course.) The Boa backs down, but not out. Apologetic, contrite, “I don’t know what got into me!” (umm, alcohol?), he suggests leaving and going to Comos. And the prey agrees. (Marlin: “The prey looks stunned at the rapid squeezing and release. Apparently, she is not able to get away.”)
At Comos, Chrisss goes for the gentle approach, cupping my face in his hands, complimenting and laying it on thick. (Marlin: “Having tried to swallow the prey from the feet up without success; the Boa is now starting with the head.”) And I am starting to be hypnotized by it. (I’m pretty toasted too.) It is around midnight, we are hungry, and Chrisss decides to take me to Greektown.
As we head to his white Hummer, I ask one question, “I’m serious about this, are you ok to drive?”
Enter the Zebras
He answers he’s fine so, off we go. As we zip across three lanes on 8 Mile, I get a bit apprehensive. And, I get more apprehensive when I spot a “zebra” – a black and white police car making a Michigan left. I ask, “is that cop car following us?” Affirmative.
The zebras pull Chrisss over. They ask if he is an active firefighter or “supporter.” He answers supporter. (Hmm, he told me active.) They ask how many drinks he’s had tonight – one, he answers. (I think: Dude, you are wearing three strands of beads on St. Patrick’s Day at midnight. One drink?)
The zebras ask for registration and insurance which Chrisss takes from the glove box (Hey! Whose pictures are on the packet there? Looks like a wife and two kids??)
The police go back to the cruiser. A brief moment later, they return. “Sir, please step out of the vehicle.” (Marlin: “The zebras have been sniffing around the Boa, knowing they are too big to be in any danger and the Boa cannot escape. However, the zebras know a snake is a snake and they have decided to stomp the Boa.”)
And the former prey is breathing on her own. An officer comes to my window. How many drinks have I had? “Oh, two or three, that’s why I’m not driving.” The zebra chuckles and says, “he’s had a lot. Any open alcohol in the vehicle?” I answer no, and then add, “wait, this is a first date. I have no clue what’s in here. Feel free to take a look.” (Marlin: "Interestingly, the prey has now joined the zebras against the Boa.”)
There’s nothing in the car and the officer tells me they will take me to the station in another cruiser so I can get a ride home. Yup, I’m ending my date in the back seat of a police cruiser.
At the small Ferndale station, I call a friend as all the taxi numbers are busy. I can hear Chrisss being booked in the back: $500 cash and he can get out at 6:15 am. He replies he has the money. ($500 cash on you? Really?) It is about 1:15 am now.
Then my cell rings. The Boa, caged, is pleading into my ear. “Where are you? Don’t leave me!” Chrisss intones. I’m tired and tell him, no I’m not waiting five hours until he is released. “Will you come and get me tomorrow at 6:15? I’ll have to go get my vehicle.” (Marlin: “The prey has stopped to look at the injured Boa. This can be a fatal error in the wild.”) Out of pity, I agree to pick him up so he can get his vehicle.
Bright and early, I’m at the station by 6:10 am, with Timmie’s coffee and breakfast sandwiches as I figure Chrisss hasn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. I sit, in the same chair as five hours before, and wait.
At 6:20, the desk officer asks if he can help me. I tell him I’m there to pick up a friend who was arrested and give him an approximate sound of Chrisss’s Greek last name. “No one here by that name. Are you sure you have the right station?” answers the officer.
A true snake in the grass –the Boa gave me the wrong name too.
I text and leave voice messages that I kept my promise to pick him up but he’s lied to me so he’s on his own. I figure he’ll slither away.
At 8:15 am, my cell rings. Chrisss is on his cell phone, crying. (Crocodile tears from a Boa Constrictor?) “Where are you.” he whines, “Why didn’t you pick me up?”
Now I’m annoyed. I tell him to stop crying and I explain: In short, I tried, he lied, and any favors have died.
The Boa tries to recapture the prey but is clumsy. “They won’t let me out,” he cries. “It’s $500 cash and I don’t have that much cash on me. Can you get $500 cash and come and get me?”
Pause. Blink. What?? Chrisss, with whom I’ve had one date, which ended in his DUI arrest, wants me to get $500 of my money to bail him out?
Time for some turnaround. “Chrisss,” I ask nicely, “do you have $500 in your ATM?” “Yes.” (Marlin: It is rare in the animal kingdom, but the Boa thinks he’s enticed the prey to return.”)
“Then why don’t you get your ATM card, give me your pin number, and I’ll go get the money for you and bring it to you?” The trap is set.
The Boa doesn’t spot the trap. “They won’t talk to me,” he replies.
“Oh,” I reply, “Then how did you get your cell phone to call and text me?”
The Boa realizes the spring door has shut: “Some lady brought it to me.” Clang.
I text him to never contact me again. Bye-bye Boa.
(Marlin: “The Boa Constrictor does not move quickly, but prefers to lie . . . in wait for its prey.”)
Banishing Snakes on St. Patrick's Day, 2010
Well, green is the color of the day and perhaps I'm too green to be dating again. A four-hour phone chat with "Chris" (perhaps his real name, perhaps not, I'm not protecting the innocent here as I don't think there are any!) and emails, then text messages, flying back and forth. We seem to click on a lot of levels - travel, work, sense of humor. Chris tries to convince me that I should meet him for a drink the next day, St. Patrick's Day. I don't want to - I don't "observe" St. Patty's Day - like NYE there are too many amateurs out there.
But he insists until I cave in. I should have spotted the slithering.
On St. Patty's Day Chris bombards me with text messages: He's leaving work early to hang out with his buddies, why don't I leave work early and meet him? I refuse, but don't see he has already coiled around my foot. He cajoles me: Why don't I cancel my long-awaited after-work hair appointment I have that night and meet him? I refuse, but don't notice he's got my leg now.
As I finish at the salon, we still haven't decided when/where to meet. I'm a bit frustrated as he has been nipping at me for days now on meeting but seems nonchalant at this point. As you know from the nature shows, the Boa Constrictor waits for its prey to exhale, then coils tighter . . . and he had me flustered – I breathed out.
Chris calls - "I'll just pick you up," he says authoritatively. "At your house."
(Voice of Marlin Perkins: "The Boa has moved upwards, and is slowly starting to constrict.")
So, Chris meets me at my house. He's a bit "friendly/touchy" - kissing me before we get out the door – snakes sense with their tongues, yes? And I make sure we get out the door. Apparently I've noticed there is something moving on me.
So, to the bars! As we walk up Woodward, there is a bagpiper playing and walking down the street. Yes, that’s Scottish, but “whatever!” it’s St. Patty’s Day! I drape the piper in one of the strands of beads Chrisss (oh, let’s just add the “sss” sound to his name now) and I are wearing.
As we start into Dino’s, Chrisss has my hand and leads me through the bar. I think it charming at the time, not realizing the Boa is moving upwards. We have a drink here, then leave for another watering hole.
At Danny’s, we chat with a young woman. She calls Chrisss my “boyfriend” – and Chrisss offers to buy shots, her choice. She goes with Patron. The Boa recoils a bit at this, he doesn’t like tequila. But it’s her choice so we down the shot. The woman invites us to another section of the bar as it is her birthday and she wants us to party with her and her pals. I’m game but Chrisss doesn’t want to go. (Marlin Perkins: “As we see, the Boa will isolate itself and its prey from other animals in able to complete the kill.”)
So, to the Post we go. I challenge Chrisss to pinball. And I am kicking his ass – this prey still has use of her arms. Chrisss gets behind me while I am playing. While his hugging (constricting?) is mildly distracting, the Boa decides on making a bold move . . . and shoves both his hands down my skirt.
The prey is suddenly alert! And screaming! I grab his hands and drag him out to the patio where I turn on the Boa and ask WTF? (Not to mention the lost pinball credits of course.) The Boa backs down, but not out. Apologetic, contrite, “I don’t know what got into me!” (umm, alcohol?), he suggests leaving and going to Comos. And the prey agrees. (Marlin: “The prey looks stunned at the rapid squeezing and release. Apparently, she is not able to get away.”)
At Comos, Chrisss goes for the gentle approach, cupping my face in his hands, complimenting and laying it on thick. (Marlin: “Having tried to swallow the prey from the feet up without success; the Boa is now starting with the head.”) And I am starting to be hypnotized by it. (I’m pretty toasted too.) It is around midnight, we are hungry, and Chrisss decides to take me to Greektown.
As we head to his white Hummer, I ask one question, “I’m serious about this, are you ok to drive?”
Enter the Zebras
He answers he’s fine so, off we go. As we zip across three lanes on 8 Mile, I get a bit apprehensive. And, I get more apprehensive when I spot a “zebra” – a black and white police car making a Michigan left. I ask, “is that cop car following us?” Affirmative.
The zebras pull Chrisss over. They ask if he is an active firefighter or “supporter.” He answers supporter. (Hmm, he told me active.) They ask how many drinks he’s had tonight – one, he answers. (I think: Dude, you are wearing three strands of beads on St. Patrick’s Day at midnight. One drink?)
The zebras ask for registration and insurance which Chrisss takes from the glove box (Hey! Whose pictures are on the packet there? Looks like a wife and two kids??)
The police go back to the cruiser. A brief moment later, they return. “Sir, please step out of the vehicle.” (Marlin: “The zebras have been sniffing around the Boa, knowing they are too big to be in any danger and the Boa cannot escape. However, the zebras know a snake is a snake and they have decided to stomp the Boa.”)
And the former prey is breathing on her own. An officer comes to my window. How many drinks have I had? “Oh, two or three, that’s why I’m not driving.” The zebra chuckles and says, “he’s had a lot. Any open alcohol in the vehicle?” I answer no, and then add, “wait, this is a first date. I have no clue what’s in here. Feel free to take a look.” (Marlin: "Interestingly, the prey has now joined the zebras against the Boa.”)
There’s nothing in the car and the officer tells me they will take me to the station in another cruiser so I can get a ride home. Yup, I’m ending my date in the back seat of a police cruiser.
At the small Ferndale station, I call a friend as all the taxi numbers are busy. I can hear Chrisss being booked in the back: $500 cash and he can get out at 6:15 am. He replies he has the money. ($500 cash on you? Really?) It is about 1:15 am now.
Then my cell rings. The Boa, caged, is pleading into my ear. “Where are you? Don’t leave me!” Chrisss intones. I’m tired and tell him, no I’m not waiting five hours until he is released. “Will you come and get me tomorrow at 6:15? I’ll have to go get my vehicle.” (Marlin: “The prey has stopped to look at the injured Boa. This can be a fatal error in the wild.”) Out of pity, I agree to pick him up so he can get his vehicle.
Bright and early, I’m at the station by 6:10 am, with Timmie’s coffee and breakfast sandwiches as I figure Chrisss hasn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. I sit, in the same chair as five hours before, and wait.
At 6:20, the desk officer asks if he can help me. I tell him I’m there to pick up a friend who was arrested and give him an approximate sound of Chrisss’s Greek last name. “No one here by that name. Are you sure you have the right station?” answers the officer.
A true snake in the grass –the Boa gave me the wrong name too.
I text and leave voice messages that I kept my promise to pick him up but he’s lied to me so he’s on his own. I figure he’ll slither away.
At 8:15 am, my cell rings. Chrisss is on his cell phone, crying. (Crocodile tears from a Boa Constrictor?) “Where are you.” he whines, “Why didn’t you pick me up?”
Now I’m annoyed. I tell him to stop crying and I explain: In short, I tried, he lied, and any favors have died.
The Boa tries to recapture the prey but is clumsy. “They won’t let me out,” he cries. “It’s $500 cash and I don’t have that much cash on me. Can you get $500 cash and come and get me?”
Pause. Blink. What?? Chrisss, with whom I’ve had one date, which ended in his DUI arrest, wants me to get $500 of my money to bail him out?
Time for some turnaround. “Chrisss,” I ask nicely, “do you have $500 in your ATM?” “Yes.” (Marlin: It is rare in the animal kingdom, but the Boa thinks he’s enticed the prey to return.”)
“Then why don’t you get your ATM card, give me your pin number, and I’ll go get the money for you and bring it to you?” The trap is set.
The Boa doesn’t spot the trap. “They won’t talk to me,” he replies.
“Oh,” I reply, “Then how did you get your cell phone to call and text me?”
The Boa realizes the spring door has shut: “Some lady brought it to me.” Clang.
I text him to never contact me again. Bye-bye Boa.
(Marlin: “The Boa Constrictor does not move quickly, but prefers to lie . . . in wait for its prey.”)
Monday, March 29, 2010
Little Wing
Well she's walking through the clouds
With a circus mind that's running round
Butterflies and zebras
And moonbeams and fairy tales
That's all she ever thinks about
Riding with the wind.
When I'm sad, she comes to me
With a thousand smiles, she gives to me free
It's alright she says it's alright
Take anything you want from me, anything
Anything.
Fly on little wing
Yeah, yeah, yeah, little wing
Now listen to a great cover of it.
Well she's walking through the clouds
With a circus mind that's running round
Butterflies and zebras
And moonbeams and fairy tales
That's all she ever thinks about
Riding with the wind.
When I'm sad, she comes to me
With a thousand smiles, she gives to me free
It's alright she says it's alright
Take anything you want from me, anything
Anything.
Fly on little wing
Yeah, yeah, yeah, little wing
Now listen to a great cover of it.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Other People's Detritus
I have spent a surprising amount of my professional career cleaning out other people's desks. I would guess I've done this over 20, maybe 30 or more times. In just this past year, probably 10 times (thanks economy!)I've been surprised, and sometimes saddened, by what people leave behind.
Here are some of the more unusual things people have left in their desks (either forgotten or didn't want):
What's in your desk?
Here are some of the more unusual things people have left in their desks (either forgotten or didn't want):
- 2 drawers stuffed full of "penny" candy;
- Lottery tickets from at least two years;
- Prescription medication or medicated skin cream (ick);
- Copies of their resumes/job applications for other employment (nice);
- Pleadings for a lawsuit they were actively pursuing against a former employer;
- Framed high school and college diplomas;
- And the best? Little scraps of paper - at least 25 of them scattered throughout the desk, all listing restaurants or food items (e.g., "donuts") - Apparently, a former secretary of mine was driven to jot down any food-related name she heard during the day and squirrel it away.
What's in your desk?
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Pivot Points
At work, I use the phrase “pivot point” to describe a moment when everything can change, turn. It can be for better or worse, but it won’t be the same. I guess I first saw the words “pivot tables” in Excel and my brain made this up other usage. There’s also a financial trading definition but I just saw that as I googled the term for this blog.
Enough background.
Why am I bringing up pivot points? I was watching Olympic competitions in Vancouver over the last few days. Everything can hinge on one moment. I saw the combined men’s skiing leader lose the gold because he missed a gate in his quest for speed (instant disqualification I learned later); and Bode Miller got the gold: http://cnmnewsnetwork.com/1812/alpine-skiing-mens-super-combined-bode-miller-gold-medal-adds-to-awards/
Pivot points are everywhere. With bobsleds it takes one tiny bump on the whole run or just a small bit of an angle on a curve. That, oh, say 0.1 of a second can be the difference in medal or no medal.
It got me thinking how we non-Olympians have pivot points too – a moment in our lives when something changes and we are changed. Perhaps others are changed too. Divorces, diseases, accidents. All pivot points. As are babies, marriages, moves.
Just some thoughts. Now feed the fish.
Enough background.
Why am I bringing up pivot points? I was watching Olympic competitions in Vancouver over the last few days. Everything can hinge on one moment. I saw the combined men’s skiing leader lose the gold because he missed a gate in his quest for speed (instant disqualification I learned later); and Bode Miller got the gold: http://cnmnewsnetwork.com/1812/alpine-skiing-mens-super-combined-bode-miller-gold-medal-adds-to-awards/
Pivot points are everywhere. With bobsleds it takes one tiny bump on the whole run or just a small bit of an angle on a curve. That, oh, say 0.1 of a second can be the difference in medal or no medal.
It got me thinking how we non-Olympians have pivot points too – a moment in our lives when something changes and we are changed. Perhaps others are changed too. Divorces, diseases, accidents. All pivot points. As are babies, marriages, moves.
Just some thoughts. Now feed the fish.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Why I Hate Banks (Ok 1 Reason I Hate Banks)
I like writing checks (cheques for the Canadians). It feels like you are handing over money. E-pay is convenient but soulless.
Now, speaking of handing over money. This is for a reorder of the cheapest checks available:
Design: Fine Line
Binding Style: Single/Wallet $ 45.90
Lettering: Standard $ 0.00
Monogram: No $ 0.00
Symbol: No $ 0.00
Message: No $ 0.00
Cover: None $ 0.00
Shadow Print: No $ 0.00
Delivery and Tax (where applicable): $ 13.25
Total Price: $ 59.15
Yeah, that's about $1 per check. The bank's not so subtle way of telling you they don't want you to write checks. Soulless bastards.
Now, speaking of handing over money. This is for a reorder of the cheapest checks available:
Design: Fine Line
Binding Style: Single/Wallet $ 45.90
Lettering: Standard $ 0.00
Monogram: No $ 0.00
Symbol: No $ 0.00
Message: No $ 0.00
Cover: None $ 0.00
Shadow Print: No $ 0.00
Delivery and Tax (where applicable): $ 13.25
Total Price: $ 59.15
Yeah, that's about $1 per check. The bank's not so subtle way of telling you they don't want you to write checks. Soulless bastards.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
(Not So) Great Expectations
Or, "Your Boss Doesn't Think the Way You Do"
Where I work we used to have a contest during our annual meetings. Winners were awarded prizes and given a small (10" ) plaster bust of Thomas Edison (yes) in gold, silver, or bronze (yes, I know). We stopped doing this 4 years ago.
Well yesterday my boss had 3 of these in his office and I asked him how he had them (thinking perhaps he was reviving the concept). He replied in a tone of disgust that when a former employee left, she left these in her office. He added that he was surprised she didn't take them home as she had won them - that apparently she didn't value what they meant.
He had FIRED that employee about 7 months ago. And she has not worked since.
So why the hell would she take 3 plaster Edison heads home? As a reminder that she was fired?
Guess I better keep the 6 I have in the office around.
Where I work we used to have a contest during our annual meetings. Winners were awarded prizes and given a small (10" ) plaster bust of Thomas Edison (yes) in gold, silver, or bronze (yes, I know). We stopped doing this 4 years ago.
Well yesterday my boss had 3 of these in his office and I asked him how he had them (thinking perhaps he was reviving the concept). He replied in a tone of disgust that when a former employee left, she left these in her office. He added that he was surprised she didn't take them home as she had won them - that apparently she didn't value what they meant.
He had FIRED that employee about 7 months ago. And she has not worked since.
So why the hell would she take 3 plaster Edison heads home? As a reminder that she was fired?
Guess I better keep the 6 I have in the office around.
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