So I’m sitting here at work and turn from the desk to look in the direction of the TV, at which point I say, “Holy Christ, they’re watching a fucking dog show.”
As if the fishing show they had previously been watching wasn’t bad enough.
It never ceases to amaze me just how nerdy the people I work with can get.
Yesterday I stopped to use the restroom and there was this guy at the sink vigorously scrubbing at his shirt. He was still going at it by the time I’d finished washing my hands and was ready to walk out the door, so I wanted to say to him, “Look pal, you’re a fat, bald nerd working at a company that’s filled to overflowing with fat, bald nerds. Not only is a little schmutz on your shirt the least of your worries, it’s not even something that anyone is going to notice.”
(Jesus, it just gets worse; now they’re actually debating the relative merits of the different dogs on-screen and discussing just how the “best in show” is selected)
Because it was on a Thursday my birthday ended early as I went to bed to prepare for my early morning on Friday.
My sleep was disrupted by Kathleen calling to wish me a happy birthday and letting me know that I may not get a present until I can recall what she thinks I told her to get me, though the only conversation I remember having about what I want for my birthday involved me saying that I wanted world peace.
I’m pretty sure she won’t be getting me that.
Of course, given that her birthday is rapidly approaching, I turned things around and asked her what she wanted, though the faulty memory that comes with old age extended beyond not remembering what she was going to get me to include what she was going to tell me to get her.
Ah well, I’ll think of something, I guess.
When talking to my mother the other day the conversation turned, as it often does, to the Sahara desert of a dry spell that is my love life, and my mother asked, jokingly, “Have you ever thought about going to a whorehouse?”
My response was, “This is a discussion that I’m not going to have with my mother.”
It’s also a discussion that I’m not going to have with the readers of my blog.
Brian came in a bit late yesterday, as he’d had rather a rough night on duty on Thursday night, as can be seen here.
Long story short, it involved someone dying, despite a lot of effort to revive him.
Overall it sounds like a lousy way to spend your time, and yet Brian still wonders why I demonstrate a total lack of interest every time he suggests that I get involved with emergency services in the area…
When he called in during the night to ask the overnight shift to let us know that he was going to be late, he told the new guy who doesn’t speak English very well, that he was going to be late because he’d had a “bad call.” In the morning when I came in it was reported to me that Brian would be late because he had a “bad cold.”
This left me to wonder how, exactly, he had been able to catch a cold in the short span between seeing him at lunch on Thursday and whenever he called in, though it was generally thought that if anyone could do that it would be Brian.
I further wondered why he was going to be late instead of just not coming in at all.
In any case, there’s still a long day ahead of me, so I suppose I should find something to do to while away the hours.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Thursday, April 13, 2006
We Eat Ham And Jam and Spam Alot
The other day at work we were talking about Easter and I said something about how the Easter Bunny never leaves me a basket.
Actually, I probably said something like "Screw the Easter Bunny."
In any case, to rectify the situation, Scott and Stacy presented me with a combination Birthday/Easter present:
If you look a little more closely you'll see the primary present inside, or at least an indication of what that present is.
In the history of theatre there's only been one musical I've ever had an interest in seeing, and now, thanks to Scott and Stacy, I'll get to see it this summer when it comes to DC.
The musical in question? Spamalot!
So that's cool.
At lunch Stacy asked, just as my dad had this morning when I talked to him on the phone, if I feel any older. The answer? Yes, actually, I do.
After lunch I gave Scott and Stacy (and the kids) the "grand tour" of my condo, making them the first people to ever see it now that I've fully settled in.
Once they left I went out into the world to fulfill my wild and crazy birthday plans: driving to Ashburn and gassing up at the Safeway, since it's the cheapest gas.
While there I went wild and bought myself some napkins and trash bags, as I've been needing both for a while.
Don't think that sounds wild? The napkins are blue and the trash bags are those fancy Glad Force Flex bags.
Who says I don't know how to party?
On the way back I stopped in at Best Buy and briefly - very briefly - considered buying a 32" LCD TV that was on sale for $800.
What I settled on was a new CD case for my car, as I've pretty much hated the old one since the moment I first put a CD into it. The new one has a higher capacity, and the little sleeves that hold the CDs won't be coming loose constantly.
All things considered it's been an okay birthday. Certainly not as soul-shatteringly depressing as some I've had.
Before Scott and Stacy arrived I heard Daniela, one of the sales people from my complex (Specifically the hot one, and consequently not the one I primarily dealt with, as the Universe frowns on that sort of thing and, when there's a male alternative to a hot chick will always foist the male on me) talking to some prospective buyers in the parking lot. I looked out the window and saw that she was looking extremely good in a skirt and heels.
A bit ago I was thinking about just how good she looked and how all I got was that brief glimpse, sighed, and thought, "Well, I guess that's the way it always goes; no one gets what he really wants for his birthday."
Still, I do want to say thanks again to Scott and Stacy for lunch (at least the people I know have enough sense to realize that on Thursday it has to be lunch), and to Brian (who said that he'd wanted to take me to Ruby Tuesday and make them sing "Happy Birthday" to me, but I'm sure that they still would have ignored me over there, even on my birthday) for joining us.
Actually, I probably said something like "Screw the Easter Bunny."
In any case, to rectify the situation, Scott and Stacy presented me with a combination Birthday/Easter present:
If you look a little more closely you'll see the primary present inside, or at least an indication of what that present is.
In the history of theatre there's only been one musical I've ever had an interest in seeing, and now, thanks to Scott and Stacy, I'll get to see it this summer when it comes to DC.
The musical in question? Spamalot!
So that's cool.
At lunch Stacy asked, just as my dad had this morning when I talked to him on the phone, if I feel any older. The answer? Yes, actually, I do.
After lunch I gave Scott and Stacy (and the kids) the "grand tour" of my condo, making them the first people to ever see it now that I've fully settled in.
Once they left I went out into the world to fulfill my wild and crazy birthday plans: driving to Ashburn and gassing up at the Safeway, since it's the cheapest gas.
While there I went wild and bought myself some napkins and trash bags, as I've been needing both for a while.
Don't think that sounds wild? The napkins are blue and the trash bags are those fancy Glad Force Flex bags.
Who says I don't know how to party?
On the way back I stopped in at Best Buy and briefly - very briefly - considered buying a 32" LCD TV that was on sale for $800.
What I settled on was a new CD case for my car, as I've pretty much hated the old one since the moment I first put a CD into it. The new one has a higher capacity, and the little sleeves that hold the CDs won't be coming loose constantly.
All things considered it's been an okay birthday. Certainly not as soul-shatteringly depressing as some I've had.
Before Scott and Stacy arrived I heard Daniela, one of the sales people from my complex (Specifically the hot one, and consequently not the one I primarily dealt with, as the Universe frowns on that sort of thing and, when there's a male alternative to a hot chick will always foist the male on me) talking to some prospective buyers in the parking lot. I looked out the window and saw that she was looking extremely good in a skirt and heels.
A bit ago I was thinking about just how good she looked and how all I got was that brief glimpse, sighed, and thought, "Well, I guess that's the way it always goes; no one gets what he really wants for his birthday."
Still, I do want to say thanks again to Scott and Stacy for lunch (at least the people I know have enough sense to realize that on Thursday it has to be lunch), and to Brian (who said that he'd wanted to take me to Ruby Tuesday and make them sing "Happy Birthday" to me, but I'm sure that they still would have ignored me over there, even on my birthday) for joining us.
Thursday's Child
For anyone who thought it was too subtle a reference in the previous post, I’ll come right out and say it: today is my birthday.
Personally, I was happy to cede it to Jack in the last post. He can have it.
Still, wishing won’t make it go away (especially when I’m without any birthday candles to blow out), so I suppose that I might as well face up to the fact that I am, indeed, one year older today.
It’s interesting that my birthday falls on a Thursday this year, as I was actually born on a Thursday.
Thinking about that fact brought to mind the old nursery rhyme about children born on the different days of the week, though all I could remember was that Monday’s child is “fair of face,” and I had no recollection as to what was said of Thursday’s.
So I Googled it and this is what I found:
Thursday’s Child has far to go
Dammit.
Still, I could be hosed like Wednesday’s child and be “full of woe,” though I’m thinking that maybe some of the woe managed to spill over to Thursday.
Naturally, though, I was deprived of being “fair of face” or “full of grace.” Stupid greedy Monday and Tuesday.
Scott and Stacy are coming by in a while to take me out to lunch for my birthday. Brian will be joining us, as a bit ago he beeped me on the Nextel to ask if I wanted to go to lunch. I told him of the existing plans and invited him to join us.
I may be back with more later, but that’s it for now.
Personally, I was happy to cede it to Jack in the last post. He can have it.
Still, wishing won’t make it go away (especially when I’m without any birthday candles to blow out), so I suppose that I might as well face up to the fact that I am, indeed, one year older today.
It’s interesting that my birthday falls on a Thursday this year, as I was actually born on a Thursday.
Thinking about that fact brought to mind the old nursery rhyme about children born on the different days of the week, though all I could remember was that Monday’s child is “fair of face,” and I had no recollection as to what was said of Thursday’s.
So I Googled it and this is what I found:
Thursday’s Child has far to go
Dammit.
Still, I could be hosed like Wednesday’s child and be “full of woe,” though I’m thinking that maybe some of the woe managed to spill over to Thursday.
Naturally, though, I was deprived of being “fair of face” or “full of grace.” Stupid greedy Monday and Tuesday.
Scott and Stacy are coming by in a while to take me out to lunch for my birthday. Brian will be joining us, as a bit ago he beeped me on the Nextel to ask if I wanted to go to lunch. I told him of the existing plans and invited him to join us.
I may be back with more later, but that’s it for now.
You Say It's Your Birthday...
I hope that all faithful Threshold readers will join me in wishing a Happy Birthday to everyone's favorite paranoid fundamentalist propagandist, Jack T. Chick, who is 82 years old today.
Many happy returns Jack, you crazy, controversial, hate-mongering (in the guise of love), though oddly naive, sub-par artist, or perhaps I should say, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant." After all, you should hear that when you're still alive, as I'm pretty sure you won't be hearing it after you kick the bucket.
Speaking of crazy, sub-par artists, there's some other jackass I know who has a birthday today, but I say, "Screw him, and his birthday!"
Many happy returns Jack, you crazy, controversial, hate-mongering (in the guise of love), though oddly naive, sub-par artist, or perhaps I should say, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant." After all, you should hear that when you're still alive, as I'm pretty sure you won't be hearing it after you kick the bucket.
Speaking of crazy, sub-par artists, there's some other jackass I know who has a birthday today, but I say, "Screw him, and his birthday!"
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
The Adversity Of Diversity
I just got back from having completed a full day of “diversity training” as is mandated by management.
There are a couple of positive things I can say about it, such as it wasn’t just a dry, boring recitation of applicable laws, nor was it a sort of touchy-feely guide to political correctness.
Even so, it made for a long day, especially considering that the instructor kept us in class far too long before giving us our first break.
As for the instructor, he seemed like a nice enough guy and was fairly engaging, but let’s just say that it came as no surprise that he kept coming back to sexual orientation when citing examples.
That he was southern only served to make him seem even more gay.
But whatever.
The interesting thing about the class is that Scott, Brian, and I, along with the two other guys in the class, were totally outnumbered by women.
Even more interesting was the fact that, while they weren’t all hotties, they were, for the most part, all fairly decent looking.
One of them looked very familiar in some fashion. I finally figured out who she reminded me of, and then remembered that the person in question – someone we work with – has a sister who also works for our company, so during one of our breaks I asked her if they were, in fact, sisters, which they actually were.
Small world, I guess.
As part of “getting to know each other” we all had to introduce ourselves, say what we do, how long we’ve been with the company, say what comes to mind when we think of diversity, and reveal something about ourselves that people wouldn’t be able to tell just by looking at us.
(My revelation was that I like to cook)
One person, though, revealed that, via Weight Watchers, she had lost more than 50 pounds after having been obese most of her life.
Honestly, that didn’t surprise me, as there were just some visual cues about the way she looks now that indicated how she might have looked then.
(For the record, none of what follows is intended to be cruel, it just some of the more noteworthy of today’s observations)
If you’ve ever seen the movie The Craft, you may remember (you will definitely remember if you’re a guy, and straight) that Neve Campbell played a girl who was always bundled up as much as possible to cover up serious scarring (from being burned, if I recall correctly), and was terribly shy, but once she used magic to remove her scars, she underwent a metamorphosis, and, like a butterfly coming out of its cocoon, she spread her wings for all to see.
Which is to say that she started wearing the least amount of clothing possible, which is the part that guys will remember.
It would appear to be a similar circumstance with the woman in class today, as she was wearing an extremely short and skimpy skirt.
(She works in the same building as Kathleen, who confirmed that she’s always dressed in skimpy outfits)
The major difference in this comparison, though, is that with Neve, this was a good thing.
With this woman, not so much.
Basically, she’s only really done part of the work. She’s lost the weight, but she hasn’t really firmed up and gotten any kind of tone or definition.
And she’s very, very pale. Like albino pale. Like a vampire would tell her that she needs to get some sun pale
Beyond that, she just looks sort of dorky, needing better glasses/contacts, and a serious tweezing.
Along with her “I’m going to flaunt what I’ve no longer got” attitude, the other visual cue that tipped me off to the fact that something (I’d guessed that it was weight loss) had changed about her body was her awkwardness about her body. There was something about her posture that just said that she really isn’t accustomed to being half the woman she used to be, which only adds to her dorkiness.
In any case, there was one woman in the class – married, of course – whom I found very attractive and whom I had difficulty taking my eyes off of for most of the day.
Beyond simply being attractive, though, she reminded me rather a lot of a stripper I used to know – a favorite of mine, in fact.
The resemblance was rather uncanny, though she did have a more prominent nose and lacked the glazed, half-lidded stoner eyes that Kayla, the stripper in question, usually sported.
Also, she wasn’t hanging upside down from a pole while naked, though I did spend much of the day visualizing just that, which I’m sure had a negative impact on my ability to learn about…whatever it was we were supposed to be learning about.
Oh, yeah, diversity.
For lunch the four of us headed over to the food court at the Town Center where I got myself a Bacon Dog from Frank –n- Stein.
After that it was just a matter of coasting through the rest of the afternoon, and now here I am, free from not only having to learn about diversity, but from having to actually encounter it as I settle back into my routine.
I may post later, but the routine, which involves a lot of TV watching from this point on, will likely prevent that from happening.
There are a couple of positive things I can say about it, such as it wasn’t just a dry, boring recitation of applicable laws, nor was it a sort of touchy-feely guide to political correctness.
Even so, it made for a long day, especially considering that the instructor kept us in class far too long before giving us our first break.
As for the instructor, he seemed like a nice enough guy and was fairly engaging, but let’s just say that it came as no surprise that he kept coming back to sexual orientation when citing examples.
That he was southern only served to make him seem even more gay.
But whatever.
The interesting thing about the class is that Scott, Brian, and I, along with the two other guys in the class, were totally outnumbered by women.
Even more interesting was the fact that, while they weren’t all hotties, they were, for the most part, all fairly decent looking.
One of them looked very familiar in some fashion. I finally figured out who she reminded me of, and then remembered that the person in question – someone we work with – has a sister who also works for our company, so during one of our breaks I asked her if they were, in fact, sisters, which they actually were.
Small world, I guess.
As part of “getting to know each other” we all had to introduce ourselves, say what we do, how long we’ve been with the company, say what comes to mind when we think of diversity, and reveal something about ourselves that people wouldn’t be able to tell just by looking at us.
(My revelation was that I like to cook)
One person, though, revealed that, via Weight Watchers, she had lost more than 50 pounds after having been obese most of her life.
Honestly, that didn’t surprise me, as there were just some visual cues about the way she looks now that indicated how she might have looked then.
(For the record, none of what follows is intended to be cruel, it just some of the more noteworthy of today’s observations)
If you’ve ever seen the movie The Craft, you may remember (you will definitely remember if you’re a guy, and straight) that Neve Campbell played a girl who was always bundled up as much as possible to cover up serious scarring (from being burned, if I recall correctly), and was terribly shy, but once she used magic to remove her scars, she underwent a metamorphosis, and, like a butterfly coming out of its cocoon, she spread her wings for all to see.
Which is to say that she started wearing the least amount of clothing possible, which is the part that guys will remember.
It would appear to be a similar circumstance with the woman in class today, as she was wearing an extremely short and skimpy skirt.
(She works in the same building as Kathleen, who confirmed that she’s always dressed in skimpy outfits)
The major difference in this comparison, though, is that with Neve, this was a good thing.
With this woman, not so much.
Basically, she’s only really done part of the work. She’s lost the weight, but she hasn’t really firmed up and gotten any kind of tone or definition.
And she’s very, very pale. Like albino pale. Like a vampire would tell her that she needs to get some sun pale
Beyond that, she just looks sort of dorky, needing better glasses/contacts, and a serious tweezing.
Along with her “I’m going to flaunt what I’ve no longer got” attitude, the other visual cue that tipped me off to the fact that something (I’d guessed that it was weight loss) had changed about her body was her awkwardness about her body. There was something about her posture that just said that she really isn’t accustomed to being half the woman she used to be, which only adds to her dorkiness.
In any case, there was one woman in the class – married, of course – whom I found very attractive and whom I had difficulty taking my eyes off of for most of the day.
Beyond simply being attractive, though, she reminded me rather a lot of a stripper I used to know – a favorite of mine, in fact.
The resemblance was rather uncanny, though she did have a more prominent nose and lacked the glazed, half-lidded stoner eyes that Kayla, the stripper in question, usually sported.
Also, she wasn’t hanging upside down from a pole while naked, though I did spend much of the day visualizing just that, which I’m sure had a negative impact on my ability to learn about…whatever it was we were supposed to be learning about.
Oh, yeah, diversity.
For lunch the four of us headed over to the food court at the Town Center where I got myself a Bacon Dog from Frank –n- Stein.
After that it was just a matter of coasting through the rest of the afternoon, and now here I am, free from not only having to learn about diversity, but from having to actually encounter it as I settle back into my routine.
I may post later, but the routine, which involves a lot of TV watching from this point on, will likely prevent that from happening.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Head In The Clouds
Last week on his journal Brian posted some pictures he'd taken of the ominous-looking skies over Leesburg during the storm we had.
Cool though those pictures were, they've got nothing on these clouds, which, apparently, are real and not CGI.
Pretty cool.
Cool though those pictures were, they've got nothing on these clouds, which, apparently, are real and not CGI.
Pretty cool.
The Balcony Blog
I’m attempting to blog from my balcony, as it is a perfectly lovely day and I thought I should be doing something to take advantage of that fact and the fact that I have a decently-sized balcony.
Initially, I’d hoped to do some sketching. Throughout my life I’ve never really been one to sit down and sketch the world around me. As I’m taking a “back to basics” approach to trying to improve my artistic abilities, I thought that today would be a good day to give that sort of thing a shot.
So I grabbed the sketchbook and pencils and sat down to do some sketches of the blossoming tree.
It was at that point that I was reminded that the reason that I’ve never been one to sit down and sketch the world around me is that it’s boring and I’m not especially good at it (mostly because it’s boring).
Also, actually working with paper and pencil seems sort of alien at this point.
So Plan B was to grab the tablet PC and do today’s crossword puzzle.
Today’s puzzle was extremely easy, so that didn’t take long.
Thus, here I am blogging, though I don’t know how much longer I’ll be out here doing that.
After all, this thing is getting pretty hot on my lap, my plastic patio furniture is pretty uncomfortable (I still need to pick up a hammock), and there are these big, irritating bugs that keep buzzing around. They’re sort of like bees, but aren’t.
So I guess I’ll just call the balcony thing a miss for today.
Initially, I’d hoped to do some sketching. Throughout my life I’ve never really been one to sit down and sketch the world around me. As I’m taking a “back to basics” approach to trying to improve my artistic abilities, I thought that today would be a good day to give that sort of thing a shot.
So I grabbed the sketchbook and pencils and sat down to do some sketches of the blossoming tree.
It was at that point that I was reminded that the reason that I’ve never been one to sit down and sketch the world around me is that it’s boring and I’m not especially good at it (mostly because it’s boring).
Also, actually working with paper and pencil seems sort of alien at this point.
So Plan B was to grab the tablet PC and do today’s crossword puzzle.
Today’s puzzle was extremely easy, so that didn’t take long.
Thus, here I am blogging, though I don’t know how much longer I’ll be out here doing that.
After all, this thing is getting pretty hot on my lap, my plastic patio furniture is pretty uncomfortable (I still need to pick up a hammock), and there are these big, irritating bugs that keep buzzing around. They’re sort of like bees, but aren’t.
So I guess I’ll just call the balcony thing a miss for today.
There Is No Escape
I use a service called Easy News which gives me Web-based access to Usenet.
Most Usenet servers restrict the size of files that can be posted. To get around that, people use programs like WinRAR to split one large file up into several smaller files which can then be posted to a newsgroup.
With more traditional Usenet access you would need to download all of the individual files and then use a program (like WinRAR) to stitch them back together.
Easy News, along with many others, has a cool feature called "Auto UnRAR," with which they take the individual files and stitch them back together into a complete file and load it onto their server, saving you a lot of bother.
In any case, look what I just found AutoUnRARed in one of the newsgroups:
Naturally I have no choice but to download it.
The damn thing is inescapable, and seems as inevitable as death and taxes.
Most Usenet servers restrict the size of files that can be posted. To get around that, people use programs like WinRAR to split one large file up into several smaller files which can then be posted to a newsgroup.
With more traditional Usenet access you would need to download all of the individual files and then use a program (like WinRAR) to stitch them back together.
Easy News, along with many others, has a cool feature called "Auto UnRAR," with which they take the individual files and stitch them back together into a complete file and load it onto their server, saving you a lot of bother.
In any case, look what I just found AutoUnRARed in one of the newsgroups:
Naturally I have no choice but to download it.
The damn thing is inescapable, and seems as inevitable as death and taxes.
Expanding Faces Or The REAL Diversity
This morning someone was scheduled to come in and check the Freon levels for my A/C sometime between 8 and noon.
He showed up sometime around 11.
The funny thing was he sounded almost exactly like Lawrence from Office Space (“Hey Peter man, I’m here to check your Freon!”).
He turned on the A/C and headed for the door and said he’d be back in a little while.
It had already been a bit chilly in here, but that was made worse by the fact that he’d set the A/C to 63. My teeth were beginning to chatter by the time he finally came back up and said I could shut it off.
After he left I sat around for several hours intending to get dressed and go for a walk, but somehow failing to manage to do so. Most of that time was spent sitting at the computer reading old Threshold entries. I’d gotten sucked into doing that by checking out the site hits and seeing where various Web searches (for things other than the usual) had led people.
Eventually, though, I did actually get my lazy ass moving and walk a couple of miles, though by that time school was letting out so the trails were overrun with kids, which made me cut things short and head home.
The new season of The Surreal Life is in full-swing on VH-1 with a very interesting cast.
I find myself more than a little troubled by the fact that I’m liking – and identifying with – CC Deville of Poison, given that my history as a hardcore metalhead makes me honor-bound to hate him.
Honestly, though I do still hate Bon Jovi with, if not every fiber of my being, at least the majority, for the most part over the years I’ve come to feel sort of sorry and bitterly amused by the hair bands that I so despised in my youth, and with CC’s struggles with his newfound sobriety, I can’t help but relate.
On a different note, anyone who’s ever read Grant Morrison’s series The Invisibles should definitely check this season out, though, as watching Alexis Arquette in action is like seeing Lord Fanny brought to life.
The one thing that really stands out for me this season, though, is the size of Tawny Kitaen’s face. For the most part, she looks pretty good, and seems to be holding up reasonably well, but her face seems to have expanded somehow, giving it this sort of Rocky Dennis effect.
With cheeks and forehead expanding outward, consequently causing her eyes to look sunken, she’s taken on a rather leonine appearance.
Of late, with another damned birthday fast approaching, I’ve noticed something similar happening with my face, though on me it doesn’t look so much leonine as it does just plain puffy.
For the most part, for men, you really have only two options: rugged good looks or boyish good looks.
While I’m not so sure about the “good” part, I’ve definitely always gone the boyish route, though with the puffiness and the wrinkles now my face just looks like mush. My hair has gotten long enough that it’s doing that Monchichi thing again, adding to the overall roundness of my moon-shaped melon, so I suppose I need to get another haircut, which will just reveal even more gray, and is only temporarily eliminating the Monchichi effect, as my hair tends to grow pretty quickly.
On Wednesday I have to go to HQ for a company-mandated “diversity training.” That should be a blast.
At least Brian, Scott, and Kathleen are all taking it with me, so I won’t have to suffer alone.
I’ve dared Brian to ask, whenever we’re asked if we have any questions, to say, “Yeah, can’t we do something about all the Mexicans?”
I have my doubts that he’ll actually do it.
Honestly, though, I shouldn’t make a joke of it. Diversity training can’t help but come in handy at my job, where I, a white guy in his thirties, work with two other white guys in their thirties.
Yep, we’re a diverse group and as such we need to learn to be sensitive to each other’s differences, because if we haven’t learned to get along in the 3+ years we’ve all been working together, an eight hour class is bound to make all the difference.
To be slightly more serious, the biggest problem I foresee with the class is that it won’t teach us how to deal with the real diversity problems we face, like teaching us how to tactfully tell the WoW and EverQuest people to shut the hell up about she shit that nobody else cares about, or how to peacefully co-exist with the people at the other desks on the days when they’re hooting and hollering over some boring-ass football/basketball/baseball game.
In any case, I suppose I should probably crash.
He showed up sometime around 11.
The funny thing was he sounded almost exactly like Lawrence from Office Space (“Hey Peter man, I’m here to check your Freon!”).
He turned on the A/C and headed for the door and said he’d be back in a little while.
It had already been a bit chilly in here, but that was made worse by the fact that he’d set the A/C to 63. My teeth were beginning to chatter by the time he finally came back up and said I could shut it off.
After he left I sat around for several hours intending to get dressed and go for a walk, but somehow failing to manage to do so. Most of that time was spent sitting at the computer reading old Threshold entries. I’d gotten sucked into doing that by checking out the site hits and seeing where various Web searches (for things other than the usual) had led people.
Eventually, though, I did actually get my lazy ass moving and walk a couple of miles, though by that time school was letting out so the trails were overrun with kids, which made me cut things short and head home.
The new season of The Surreal Life is in full-swing on VH-1 with a very interesting cast.
I find myself more than a little troubled by the fact that I’m liking – and identifying with – CC Deville of Poison, given that my history as a hardcore metalhead makes me honor-bound to hate him.
Honestly, though I do still hate Bon Jovi with, if not every fiber of my being, at least the majority, for the most part over the years I’ve come to feel sort of sorry and bitterly amused by the hair bands that I so despised in my youth, and with CC’s struggles with his newfound sobriety, I can’t help but relate.
On a different note, anyone who’s ever read Grant Morrison’s series The Invisibles should definitely check this season out, though, as watching Alexis Arquette in action is like seeing Lord Fanny brought to life.
The one thing that really stands out for me this season, though, is the size of Tawny Kitaen’s face. For the most part, she looks pretty good, and seems to be holding up reasonably well, but her face seems to have expanded somehow, giving it this sort of Rocky Dennis effect.
With cheeks and forehead expanding outward, consequently causing her eyes to look sunken, she’s taken on a rather leonine appearance.
Of late, with another damned birthday fast approaching, I’ve noticed something similar happening with my face, though on me it doesn’t look so much leonine as it does just plain puffy.
For the most part, for men, you really have only two options: rugged good looks or boyish good looks.
While I’m not so sure about the “good” part, I’ve definitely always gone the boyish route, though with the puffiness and the wrinkles now my face just looks like mush. My hair has gotten long enough that it’s doing that Monchichi thing again, adding to the overall roundness of my moon-shaped melon, so I suppose I need to get another haircut, which will just reveal even more gray, and is only temporarily eliminating the Monchichi effect, as my hair tends to grow pretty quickly.
On Wednesday I have to go to HQ for a company-mandated “diversity training.” That should be a blast.
At least Brian, Scott, and Kathleen are all taking it with me, so I won’t have to suffer alone.
I’ve dared Brian to ask, whenever we’re asked if we have any questions, to say, “Yeah, can’t we do something about all the Mexicans?”
I have my doubts that he’ll actually do it.
Honestly, though, I shouldn’t make a joke of it. Diversity training can’t help but come in handy at my job, where I, a white guy in his thirties, work with two other white guys in their thirties.
Yep, we’re a diverse group and as such we need to learn to be sensitive to each other’s differences, because if we haven’t learned to get along in the 3+ years we’ve all been working together, an eight hour class is bound to make all the difference.
To be slightly more serious, the biggest problem I foresee with the class is that it won’t teach us how to deal with the real diversity problems we face, like teaching us how to tactfully tell the WoW and EverQuest people to shut the hell up about she shit that nobody else cares about, or how to peacefully co-exist with the people at the other desks on the days when they’re hooting and hollering over some boring-ass football/basketball/baseball game.
In any case, I suppose I should probably crash.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Trying To Pick Out The Oddest Part
The other night I had an odd dream that, in 1983, at the age of 11, I met Alan Moore while attending a screening of a movie adaptation of V for Vendetta.
The least odd thing about that is the fact that in 1983 V was still unfinished, and, of course, the movie adaptation was 23 years in the future.
Would I have known who Moore was at that time? Yes, from his work on Swamp Thing – which actually marked the first time I cared enough about a comic book to bother taking note of who wrote it – and a few other things, and I would have held him in a certain amount of awe, but with Watchmen still several years in the future, I wouldn’t have been at the level of hero-worship I would be if I were to meet him now.
In any case, there I was at this movie – which really had nothing to do with the book and could only speculate as to how the story actually ended, given that Moore hadn’t finished it yet – which was being screened in England.
That Moore was actually bothering to attend this screening is, again, one of the less odd and unlikely elements of the dream, as is the fact that he was apparently married to Rachel Weisz, though Weisz as she is now, not as she would have been then (she would have been, I think, all of 12 years old).
And there I was, in England, 11 years old, alone, uncertain even in the dream as to how I’d gotten there, seeing a movie that wouldn’t be made for another 23 years and afterwards standing around having a conversation with the author of the book upon which it was based and finding that he had actually rather taken a shine to me and was talking to me as if he considered me a peer.
Me, an 11 year old.
Well, I guess it isn’t any less likely than him considering me a peer as a 33 year old.
On the topic of authors – of a very different kind and caliber – that I have actually spoken with (however briefly), Giada de Laurentis, I discovered, has released a new cookbook.
Sadly, it’s not titled The Crazy Hot Italian Cookbook.
I discovered the new cookbook while checking out Amazon’s listing for The Alphabet of Manliness by Maddox.
If you don’t know who Maddox is, you definitely need to head over to The Best Page in the Universe.
Hmm…while at Amazon I just learned that in June there will also be a third and final DVD volume of Superman: The Animated Series. I had thought the two sets I had completed the series, but looking at the contents of Volume 3 I realize how wrong I was. Some of the best episodes will be on there. *Sigh* Something else to buy…
The least odd thing about that is the fact that in 1983 V was still unfinished, and, of course, the movie adaptation was 23 years in the future.
Would I have known who Moore was at that time? Yes, from his work on Swamp Thing – which actually marked the first time I cared enough about a comic book to bother taking note of who wrote it – and a few other things, and I would have held him in a certain amount of awe, but with Watchmen still several years in the future, I wouldn’t have been at the level of hero-worship I would be if I were to meet him now.
In any case, there I was at this movie – which really had nothing to do with the book and could only speculate as to how the story actually ended, given that Moore hadn’t finished it yet – which was being screened in England.
That Moore was actually bothering to attend this screening is, again, one of the less odd and unlikely elements of the dream, as is the fact that he was apparently married to Rachel Weisz, though Weisz as she is now, not as she would have been then (she would have been, I think, all of 12 years old).
And there I was, in England, 11 years old, alone, uncertain even in the dream as to how I’d gotten there, seeing a movie that wouldn’t be made for another 23 years and afterwards standing around having a conversation with the author of the book upon which it was based and finding that he had actually rather taken a shine to me and was talking to me as if he considered me a peer.
Me, an 11 year old.
Well, I guess it isn’t any less likely than him considering me a peer as a 33 year old.
On the topic of authors – of a very different kind and caliber – that I have actually spoken with (however briefly), Giada de Laurentis, I discovered, has released a new cookbook.
Sadly, it’s not titled The Crazy Hot Italian Cookbook.
I discovered the new cookbook while checking out Amazon’s listing for The Alphabet of Manliness by Maddox.
If you don’t know who Maddox is, you definitely need to head over to The Best Page in the Universe.
Hmm…while at Amazon I just learned that in June there will also be a third and final DVD volume of Superman: The Animated Series. I had thought the two sets I had completed the series, but looking at the contents of Volume 3 I realize how wrong I was. Some of the best episodes will be on there. *Sigh* Something else to buy…
My Own Private Festival
This will be the fourth spring I’ve spent in the Northern Virginia/Metro DC area, and it’s the fourth time, much to my mother’s dismay, that I haven’t gone into DC for the Cherry Blossom Festival.
There are a number of reasons for this. For example, there is the fact that I’m not gay/a woman, and there is also the lingering resentment I feel towards DC for the hours I spent lost driving in circles as I tried to drive through it.
Mostly, though, it just doesn’t seem like the sort of thing you should do by yourself.
There are a lot of things like that in life, which is why there are a lot of things in life that I don’t do.
In any case, now I have another reason not to head to DC: I don’t have to.
Check out the Cherry Blossom Festival that’s right next to my balcony:
I get the benefit of blossoms without having to deal with DC traffic or the Metro, or putting up with slack-jawed yokels pointing at the lonely guy.
Works for me.
There are a number of reasons for this. For example, there is the fact that I’m not gay/a woman, and there is also the lingering resentment I feel towards DC for the hours I spent lost driving in circles as I tried to drive through it.
Mostly, though, it just doesn’t seem like the sort of thing you should do by yourself.
There are a lot of things like that in life, which is why there are a lot of things in life that I don’t do.
In any case, now I have another reason not to head to DC: I don’t have to.
Check out the Cherry Blossom Festival that’s right next to my balcony:
I get the benefit of blossoms without having to deal with DC traffic or the Metro, or putting up with slack-jawed yokels pointing at the lonely guy.
Works for me.
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