As mentioned on Wednesday, Scott was in training on Thursday and Friday, which left just me and Simon to work the desk, as no one had opted to come in for the OT.
A recent managerial mandate has led to a change in the way we work the desk, requiring the person working one particular station to sit in a different area (the area where Brian sits).
Because it just made sense, initially we just moved all three of us into that area and forwarded the phones. However, we discovered that one of our lines couldn’t be forwarded, and so when people called it, they went to voicemail, as no one was sitting there to answer it.
This meant we had to divide our forces, with one in the other room, and the other two sitting in our normal area.
We defied this rule on Thursday, though, as Simon was working the stations that he’s least familiar with, and so would have a lot of questions for me, and I was working the station I’m least familiar with, which meant I’d have a lot of questions for him, so being in the same location made sense.
On Friday we rotated, putting us each back in familiar territory and allowing us to abide by the separation rule.
Of course, that meant that I was out on the desk alone, which meant no one was there to answer the phone when I went to the bathroom or went to get water (so that I could go to the bathroom some more), and, since I work in an environment full of children – retarded children – the water cooler in our internal break room was broken, so I had to venture outside of the NOC to get water.
Now, my shift runs from 6 AM to 6:30 PM.
I usually arrive there between 5:50 and 5:55 AM. We seldom stay all the way until 6:30, as our relief arrives at 6 PM, so we leave as soon as we’ve given the hand-off. Generally that means leaving somewhere between 6:05 and 6:20 PM, depending on if our relief is on time.
So if we figure on a 5:50 AM arrival and a 6:20 departure, that is a full twelve and a half hours spent there.
Generally I take about a half hour lunch break (at a maximum), which means twelve hours at – or at least near – the desk.
Add up bathroom breaks and trips to the water cooler or vending machine, and, to really stretch it, that’s a total of an hour away from the desk.
So that means that I spend about eleven and a half hours sitting at the desk.
One would assume that the majority of phone calls could manage to come in during those eleven and a half hours that I’m at the desk, and not during the hour I’m away from it.
(Actually, there’s coverage when I’m gone to lunch, so that means that there are twelve hours during which calls could come in when someone is there to answer them.)
Such was not the case on Friday.
It was as if there was someone spying on me and waiting for me to step away, then putting a call through.
It went like this:
6:00 – 7:30 – At the desk. No calls.
7:30 – 7:33 – Bathroom break.
7:33 – 9:10 – At the desk. No calls.
9:10 – 9:15 – Bathroom break. Phone call.
9:15 – 11:35 - At the desk. No calls.
1135 – 11:36 – Get water. Phone call.
11:36 – 11:55 – At the desk. No calls.
11:55 – Just heading out the door, stopped by phone call.
There was a call for me while I was at lunch, but Simon was covering the desk and answered it.
There were no further calls from that point on until…
3:30 – Return from vending machine. Take big bite of Snickers bar. Phone call immediately after I complete the bite. Mouth far too full of chocolate, peanuts, and caramel to answer. Too big of a bite to swallow, not enough time to chew. Silently curse Universe. Grab napkin. Spit candy out into it. Answer phone.
Now, I should mention that for the past few months we’ve had an intern (sort of; he’s not technically an intern, but I don’t know what else to call him) on our desk.
I haven’t mentioned him before because, frankly, the less said about him the better.
Suffice to say that he is like a particularly well-used crayon that comes in a box that does not include a crayon sharpener.
Still, despite his lack of any useful skills, you would think that he could at least answer the phone.
You would think that, and then you would let him, and then you would regret thinking that.
Still, on some of the occasions during which I was away and the phone rang, he actually answered it. He did manage to not bungle it too terribly, though he did need some instruction as to how to pick up the line that was on hold (and he did bungle that by putting it on speakerphone , though he didn’t actually appear to notice, as he held the handset up to his ear).
Still, the point is that it’s remarkable that, even with the odds on your side, you can still lose. I mean, eleven and a half freakin’ hours in which I can be reached and the calls have to come in the hour’s worth of time that I’m away?
It’s not unusual, though, and I have actually come to call it the Stacy Syndrome.
Basically, the amount of time Scott spends at the desk is roughly equivalent to the amount I do, and yet, a good percentage of the time, Stacy manages to call to talk to him when he’s away.
(Simon has an uncanny ability to walk away from the desk just before a call comes in for him, but that’s actually working in his favor, as they’re usually work-related calls that he’d just as soon avoid, and which Scott and I then have to take over for him. This is not as bad as one guy who used to work with us, though, who would page people, then walk away from the desk without having mentioned to us that he’d paged someone to call.)
In any case, the weekend was mostly uneventful (though Scott ended up on a conference call today for about five hours), and there isn’t much to say about it, so I suppose that I will bring this unusual Saturday evening post to an end.
(Couldn’t resist the pun.)
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Sign Here, Here, And Here, Initial Here, Sign Here...
There was a representative from the condo developer (along with a Notary Public) who came by today to answer people’s questions about the buy-back and to accept completed purchase agreements (once they’d been notarized).
I went down there shortly after she was supposed to have arrived, found that she wasn’t there, found that all of the comfortable seats were taken up by three women and the two kids of one of the women, sat down, and waited.
While I waited I checked out one of the women there, an attractive young woman who teaches Civics to 8th graders, from what I heard from the conversation she was having with not at all attractive woman.
Apparently the teacher is planning to rent a room from her mother post-buy-back. This isn’t an option for the ogre she was talking to, who is “living in sin” with her boyfriend, as her mother just discovered, and so has a strained relationship with her parents.
Eventually their conversation dried up, and I sat there watching some mindless show on The Disney Channel, which was on for the benefit – I’m assuming – of the two kids.
On the show that was on, a girl was trying to win a bet with her brother that involved her getting some “punk rock” guy to ask her out. In the course of her attempts to win his affection, though, the girl had come to have real feelings for the “punk rock” guy, and did not know what to do. Meanwhile, her mother, not knowing about the bet, was alarmed by the girl’s sudden change in appearance, as she became a “punk rock” girl to attract the “punk rock” guy’s attention, and about the fact that she was acquiring new friends, such as the “punk rock” guy.
Along the way, we were learning that we can’t always judge people by their appearances (as long as they’re good-looking anyway), as “punk rock” guy, despite looking “scary,” was, in fact, a very nice, level-headed, polite young man.
Sadly, the woman from the condo developer arrived before I could see the conclusion, so I guess I’ll never get to know how it worked out, or if it did work out. What if everything went horribly astray? What if there was no satisfactory conclusion that was heartwarming, entertaining, and educational? What if those loose ends never got tied up?
Meh.
(By the way, I put “punk rock” in quotes, as, 30 years later, I don’t think there are many true punks around. Anyway, I bet the kid listens to Avril Lavigne and thinks that makes him “edgy.” As for his look, he was basically just dressed like your standard emo kid. No safety pin piercings, no visible track marks, and he was far too well-groomed. Overall he was about as scary as Hello Kitty. Sid Vicious would have popped out his eyes and skull-fucked him.)
The chick from the condo developer was, based on her looks, kind of cute, but was pushed over the top to hotness by her kick-ass rack.
Very nice indeed.
Of course, she looked to be one of those chicks who’s thick in a good way now, but one day, in her late 20s or early 30s, if she’s not careful, the dam may very burst and the thickness will just expand and expand.
The Notary was not nearly so cute, though she did say, “Wow, that’s a great picture!” when I gave her my driver’s license to verify my ID.
I was like, okay, thanks, but yeah, it’s really not.
(Note: The Notary and the women from the condo developer were both married. Didn’t get a look at the teacher’s ring finger, but I’m thinking not, though she no doubt at least has a boyfriend. By the way, I would classify her as “dainty.” She was kind of tiny and cute, and had on this really girly skirt [As opposed to a manly skirt?] that was really, really wrinkled, and didn’t really go with the sort of business-style white blouse she was wearing. She did have nice shoes, but the woman from the condo developer had sexier ones and a much better outfit, going the whole “power suit” route.)
In any case, almost before she could introduce herself the cranky old German guy ambushed the woman from the condo developer and kept asking the same questions over and over again, either not understanding her perfectly clear answers, or simply not accepting them.
I saw the teacher rolling her eyes, and eventually she sort of edged the German guy out, as she was there to actually get her papers (they hadn’t been mailed to her, apparently) and needed to be somewhere else.
I had already signed and initialed most everything, so all I really needed to do was get it notarized, get copies made, and hand them over to the woman from the condo developer and her kick-ass rack (and sexy shoes).
Accomplishing that, I came home and began writing this.
I didn’t do too much beyond that today. I went to the comic shop and picked up this week’s comics for Scott and myself, and did some content writing work that Kathleen called me to ask me to do yesterday when I was right in the middle of trying to make dinner.
In any case, the work week is nearly upon me.
We’ll be sans Scott tomorrow and Friday, as he’s in some sort of training this week.
And on that note, I’ll bring this entry to a close.
I went down there shortly after she was supposed to have arrived, found that she wasn’t there, found that all of the comfortable seats were taken up by three women and the two kids of one of the women, sat down, and waited.
While I waited I checked out one of the women there, an attractive young woman who teaches Civics to 8th graders, from what I heard from the conversation she was having with not at all attractive woman.
Apparently the teacher is planning to rent a room from her mother post-buy-back. This isn’t an option for the ogre she was talking to, who is “living in sin” with her boyfriend, as her mother just discovered, and so has a strained relationship with her parents.
Eventually their conversation dried up, and I sat there watching some mindless show on The Disney Channel, which was on for the benefit – I’m assuming – of the two kids.
On the show that was on, a girl was trying to win a bet with her brother that involved her getting some “punk rock” guy to ask her out. In the course of her attempts to win his affection, though, the girl had come to have real feelings for the “punk rock” guy, and did not know what to do. Meanwhile, her mother, not knowing about the bet, was alarmed by the girl’s sudden change in appearance, as she became a “punk rock” girl to attract the “punk rock” guy’s attention, and about the fact that she was acquiring new friends, such as the “punk rock” guy.
Along the way, we were learning that we can’t always judge people by their appearances (as long as they’re good-looking anyway), as “punk rock” guy, despite looking “scary,” was, in fact, a very nice, level-headed, polite young man.
Sadly, the woman from the condo developer arrived before I could see the conclusion, so I guess I’ll never get to know how it worked out, or if it did work out. What if everything went horribly astray? What if there was no satisfactory conclusion that was heartwarming, entertaining, and educational? What if those loose ends never got tied up?
Meh.
(By the way, I put “punk rock” in quotes, as, 30 years later, I don’t think there are many true punks around. Anyway, I bet the kid listens to Avril Lavigne and thinks that makes him “edgy.” As for his look, he was basically just dressed like your standard emo kid. No safety pin piercings, no visible track marks, and he was far too well-groomed. Overall he was about as scary as Hello Kitty. Sid Vicious would have popped out his eyes and skull-fucked him.)
The chick from the condo developer was, based on her looks, kind of cute, but was pushed over the top to hotness by her kick-ass rack.
Very nice indeed.
Of course, she looked to be one of those chicks who’s thick in a good way now, but one day, in her late 20s or early 30s, if she’s not careful, the dam may very burst and the thickness will just expand and expand.
The Notary was not nearly so cute, though she did say, “Wow, that’s a great picture!” when I gave her my driver’s license to verify my ID.
I was like, okay, thanks, but yeah, it’s really not.
(Note: The Notary and the women from the condo developer were both married. Didn’t get a look at the teacher’s ring finger, but I’m thinking not, though she no doubt at least has a boyfriend. By the way, I would classify her as “dainty.” She was kind of tiny and cute, and had on this really girly skirt [As opposed to a manly skirt?] that was really, really wrinkled, and didn’t really go with the sort of business-style white blouse she was wearing. She did have nice shoes, but the woman from the condo developer had sexier ones and a much better outfit, going the whole “power suit” route.)
In any case, almost before she could introduce herself the cranky old German guy ambushed the woman from the condo developer and kept asking the same questions over and over again, either not understanding her perfectly clear answers, or simply not accepting them.
I saw the teacher rolling her eyes, and eventually she sort of edged the German guy out, as she was there to actually get her papers (they hadn’t been mailed to her, apparently) and needed to be somewhere else.
I had already signed and initialed most everything, so all I really needed to do was get it notarized, get copies made, and hand them over to the woman from the condo developer and her kick-ass rack (and sexy shoes).
Accomplishing that, I came home and began writing this.
I didn’t do too much beyond that today. I went to the comic shop and picked up this week’s comics for Scott and myself, and did some content writing work that Kathleen called me to ask me to do yesterday when I was right in the middle of trying to make dinner.
In any case, the work week is nearly upon me.
We’ll be sans Scott tomorrow and Friday, as he’s in some sort of training this week.
And on that note, I’ll bring this entry to a close.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Seek And...Oh, You Know
The Vaudeville birds were back this morning, practicing their act at 6:30.
I just don’t understand the motivation of animals like that. I mean, why do you need to park your ass in a tree and chirp loudly in sync with another bird who’s parked his ass in the same damn tree?
Then again, there are plenty of people who get home late at night and decide that rather than going inside and sitting down and getting comfortable they should stay out in the parking lot and stand next to the car and talk to each other at ridiculous volumes.
And people are animals (Believe what you want, but there’s just no way around it. Watch animals, then watch people. Same damn thing.), so maybe there’s just a certain level of retardation that entered development early on and we’ve never been able to evolve past it.
Either that or birds, like people, are just thoughtless dicks.
Most of the time I drink water, but I do like some flavor every now and then. Except on weekends, and sometimes if I’m eating out, I try to avoid caffeine, so that means that I tend to go with things like Sprite or various non-caffeinated types of root beer.
When I went shopping yesterday I picked up a couple of two liter bottles of root beer, and after I’d eaten dinner (a salad, Roman-style chicken, garlic and olive oil-flavored couscous, and garlic breadsticks), it occurred to me that a root beer float would be a good dessert.
The only problem was that, while I had root beer, I had no ice cream, and of course I wasn’t about to venture out into the world at that time of day to pick any up.
Still, the thought persisted, and so I went out this morning to pick up some ice cream, which I did.
Of course, I neglected to get straws, which I realized shortly after I got home.
I decided that I’d take this an opportunity to go for a walk.
On Sunday, after I’d eaten my blunch I thought about going for a walk.
Two hours later, after I’d woken up from the nap that I took instead, I thought about it again, but never built up enough ambition.
And then there was yesterday.
So today I went for a walk and bought some straws, and tonight, after dinner (salad, steak prepared in some yet-to-be-determined fashion, and some kind of vegetables), I’ll have a root beer float.
And then I’ll say, “Why was I so obsessed with having a root beer float? I mean, they’re okay, I guess, but they’re nothing to write home – or a blog entry – about.”
Speaking of worthless blog entries, I’ve noticed that my traffic of late is way down.
It was never all that high to begin with, but lately it’s at much lower levels.
I think that part of that is because people are actually starting to read the search results before just blindly clicking on the link and are realizing that they will not find general celebrity bra sizes, Carla Gugino’s bra size, Monica Keena’s bra size, Giada De Laurentis’ bra size, or Giada’s height here, and that they will not learn whether or not Giada is pregnant.
They also won’t find information about Bikini Cavegirl AKA Teenage Cavegirl (beyond the fact that it sucks), a list of the cast of Bikini Cavegirl AKA Teenage Cavegirl, a free download of Bikini Cavegirl AKA Teenage Cavegirl, or anything even remotely related to Bikini Cavegirl AKA Teenage Cavegirl.
And they especially won’t find spf factor nipple clamps, whatever they are.
(Unless they look really closely.)
Of the traffic I do still get, most of it is Giada-related. If they’re not looking to find nude pictures of her (good luck with that), they are, of course, wondering if she’s knocked up and just how tall she is.
For the sheer hell of it, I will answer those questions once again.
Yes, Giada De Laurentis is pregnant, no matter when you’re reading this. Six months from now? Pregnant. A year from now? Pregnant.
How tall is Giada De Laurentis? I once stated that, like all Italians, she is, in fact, a dwarf, and listed her height as 36 inches.
I was incorrect. She is actually 2 feet 9 inches tall.
Oh, and if you want to know Giada’s bra size, it is 38 DD, which is obviously an uncomfortable burden for someone of her diminutive height.
Much of that, of course, is due to the fact that she is lactating because she’s pregnant.
Other common searches – especially on Saturdays, when her show is on – are related to TV personality and former Miss Canada, Tanya Memme.
I don’t have any pictures of her here.
If you do a Google Image Search, you’ll see that there just aren’t many pictures of her to be had. Nothing I can do about that.
You can go to her Web site and check out the few pictures she has there, but you’re not going to find the kind of pictures you’re actually looking for. Remember, just because she’s on TV that doesn’t necessarily mean that there are nude pictures of her in existence And even if they are in existence, that doesn’t mean they’re available on the Web. Besides, even if they are in existence and suddenly do become available on the Web, they still won’t be posted here because that’s not the sort of thing I do.
And you clearly aren’t interested in the things that I actually do, so good luck with your Tanya Memme nude pics searches.
There.
If we assume the “actually reading the results” trend continues, that should pretty much put an end to all of the traffic I receive via search engines.
Smart move on my part.
Oh well.
I just don’t understand the motivation of animals like that. I mean, why do you need to park your ass in a tree and chirp loudly in sync with another bird who’s parked his ass in the same damn tree?
Then again, there are plenty of people who get home late at night and decide that rather than going inside and sitting down and getting comfortable they should stay out in the parking lot and stand next to the car and talk to each other at ridiculous volumes.
And people are animals (Believe what you want, but there’s just no way around it. Watch animals, then watch people. Same damn thing.), so maybe there’s just a certain level of retardation that entered development early on and we’ve never been able to evolve past it.
Either that or birds, like people, are just thoughtless dicks.
Most of the time I drink water, but I do like some flavor every now and then. Except on weekends, and sometimes if I’m eating out, I try to avoid caffeine, so that means that I tend to go with things like Sprite or various non-caffeinated types of root beer.
When I went shopping yesterday I picked up a couple of two liter bottles of root beer, and after I’d eaten dinner (a salad, Roman-style chicken, garlic and olive oil-flavored couscous, and garlic breadsticks), it occurred to me that a root beer float would be a good dessert.
The only problem was that, while I had root beer, I had no ice cream, and of course I wasn’t about to venture out into the world at that time of day to pick any up.
Still, the thought persisted, and so I went out this morning to pick up some ice cream, which I did.
Of course, I neglected to get straws, which I realized shortly after I got home.
I decided that I’d take this an opportunity to go for a walk.
On Sunday, after I’d eaten my blunch I thought about going for a walk.
Two hours later, after I’d woken up from the nap that I took instead, I thought about it again, but never built up enough ambition.
And then there was yesterday.
So today I went for a walk and bought some straws, and tonight, after dinner (salad, steak prepared in some yet-to-be-determined fashion, and some kind of vegetables), I’ll have a root beer float.
And then I’ll say, “Why was I so obsessed with having a root beer float? I mean, they’re okay, I guess, but they’re nothing to write home – or a blog entry – about.”
Speaking of worthless blog entries, I’ve noticed that my traffic of late is way down.
It was never all that high to begin with, but lately it’s at much lower levels.
I think that part of that is because people are actually starting to read the search results before just blindly clicking on the link and are realizing that they will not find general celebrity bra sizes, Carla Gugino’s bra size, Monica Keena’s bra size, Giada De Laurentis’ bra size, or Giada’s height here, and that they will not learn whether or not Giada is pregnant.
They also won’t find information about Bikini Cavegirl AKA Teenage Cavegirl (beyond the fact that it sucks), a list of the cast of Bikini Cavegirl AKA Teenage Cavegirl, a free download of Bikini Cavegirl AKA Teenage Cavegirl, or anything even remotely related to Bikini Cavegirl AKA Teenage Cavegirl.
And they especially won’t find spf factor nipple clamps, whatever they are.
(Unless they look really closely.)
Of the traffic I do still get, most of it is Giada-related. If they’re not looking to find nude pictures of her (good luck with that), they are, of course, wondering if she’s knocked up and just how tall she is.
For the sheer hell of it, I will answer those questions once again.
Yes, Giada De Laurentis is pregnant, no matter when you’re reading this. Six months from now? Pregnant. A year from now? Pregnant.
How tall is Giada De Laurentis? I once stated that, like all Italians, she is, in fact, a dwarf, and listed her height as 36 inches.
I was incorrect. She is actually 2 feet 9 inches tall.
Oh, and if you want to know Giada’s bra size, it is 38 DD, which is obviously an uncomfortable burden for someone of her diminutive height.
Much of that, of course, is due to the fact that she is lactating because she’s pregnant.
Other common searches – especially on Saturdays, when her show is on – are related to TV personality and former Miss Canada, Tanya Memme.
I don’t have any pictures of her here.
If you do a Google Image Search, you’ll see that there just aren’t many pictures of her to be had. Nothing I can do about that.
You can go to her Web site and check out the few pictures she has there, but you’re not going to find the kind of pictures you’re actually looking for. Remember, just because she’s on TV that doesn’t necessarily mean that there are nude pictures of her in existence And even if they are in existence, that doesn’t mean they’re available on the Web. Besides, even if they are in existence and suddenly do become available on the Web, they still won’t be posted here because that’s not the sort of thing I do.
And you clearly aren’t interested in the things that I actually do, so good luck with your Tanya Memme nude pics searches.
There.
If we assume the “actually reading the results” trend continues, that should pretty much put an end to all of the traffic I receive via search engines.
Smart move on my part.
Oh well.
We Need More Ads Like This, Fewer Ads Like Everything Else (Except The Domino's Ads)
This is quite possibly the greatest thing ever.
Of course, I do have to give this Eclicpse gum commercial an honorable mention.
Of course, I do have to give this Eclicpse gum commercial an honorable mention.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Okay, Whatever
Apparently the problem with Hugin and the hard drive was the USB cable.
The short little cable that came with it apparently wasn't up to the task. I tried a different cable, and voila!
Of course, it might have just been random chance and the whole "30th time's the charm" effect.
Whatever.
The short little cable that came with it apparently wasn't up to the task. I tried a different cable, and voila!
Of course, it might have just been random chance and the whole "30th time's the charm" effect.
Whatever.
The Little Hard Drive That Couldn't (At Least On One Computer)
I was awoken this morning by the smell of gasoline and fresh-cut grass, as well as the sound of the machine that was producing both scents.
Despite this, I fought desperately to not wake up fully, even though I knew it was probably time do so.
I managed to keep total wakefulness at bay for about fifteen minutes, but after the third pass of the mower by my window, I gave up the fight.
Once up I did the usual morning dicking around ritual before finally showering and getting dressed.
I didn’t shave, even though I haven’t shaved since Saturday morning, because I didn’t feel like it and decided that it didn’t make a damn bit of difference anyway. Oh no, my face is stubbly! What will all of the various hot single chicks I see in the course of a day think? Heavens!
I will, of course, shave somewhere along the line this week, simply because I have no desire to grow a beard, or whatever I could grow that would have to pass for a beard, but would actually consist of patchy bits of blonde fuzz interspersed with thick, black hairs that resemble nothing so much as the hairs growing out of Jeff Goldblum’s back in The Fly.
I have, on a couple of misguided occasions, grown a goatee, but the less said about that the better.
Besides, in addition to looking foolish and out of place on me, goatee maintenance seemed like much more of a bother than simple shaving.
Anyway, once I was dressed I headed to Best Buy, as I was planning to pick up a portable hard drive. I wanted one of the nice new external hard drives that are powered by USB and are very tiny so that I could load up all of my mp3s on it and be able to access them (and other files) from my tablet PC when travelling without having to bog down its relatively small capacity internal drive (60 GB, with much of that already used up).
And that’s just what I did, opting for the Western Digital 120 GB Passport.
It’s a slick little drive, and seems perfectly suited for its job.
The only problem is that I can’t get it to actually work on Hugin.
That’s not a huge deal, but is kind of annoying, as I wanted to be able to use the drive for quickly transferring large files between computers, and to use to access my mp3s on Hugin, as my connection to Munin often drops when I try to stream music from it, and Windows won’t let me add files stored on my NAS (Network Attached Storage) drive to my music library, and, again, I don’t want to bog down the already bogged-down drives on Hugin by copying over my mp3s.
The reason it won’t work on Hugin – basically, Vista sees the drive, installs a driver, and says it’s ready to use, but the drive never shows up in the list of available drives – is that there is so much crap connected to it via USB that there’s not enough power available to both power the drive and actually access it.
That’s my theory, anyway, based on some stuff I’ve read online.
I can access the drive on Hugin if I plug it into the USB port on my NAS drive, but that does nothing to resolve the problem not being able to add files on the NAS drive to my library (Which is by design on the part of MS, apparently. Thanks, Bill!).
After Best Buy it was off to the grocery store.
A few weeks ago I mentioned seeing someone who appeared cute whom I wanted to get a better look at, but despite my best efforts was unable to get close to in order to make a more complete inspection.
Today I had the opposite problem. There were these three people (husband, wife, and daughter, I think, though they were all fairly old), speaking in another language, which I think was Italian, though they were speaking in sort of hushed tones, so it made it hard to make anything out.
One of them, the older-looking woman, was pretty much talking non-stop, in this low, high-pitched murmur, that, combined with the fact that even if I could fully hear her I wouldn’t be able to understand, started to get on my nerves.
And of course they were always in front of things that I wanted to get to, so finally I just tried to get the hell away from them because they were pissing me off, but everywhere I went, there they were.
Also, they kept looking at me, perhaps shocked by the fact that I was out in the world unshaven.
Eventually I managed to lose them.
When I finally got to the registers – I had too much crap to go through self check-out – I found myself sort of baffled by the lady in front of me, who was buying, with her sister, I think, two carts’ worth of groceries.
The first thing that was strange about her was that she was polite enough to find a divider to put behind her groceries so that I could start putting mine on the belt.
It’s just generally unusual to find anyone who’s even remotely thoughtful in any fashion.
So that alone was odd, but then she went further and kept trying to move everything up faster so that I could get all of my groceries
She then turned to me, with a look of apologetic distress, and said, “That’s as far as I can move it all.”
I told her that was fine and that I could wait, and did my best to assure her that it was nothing to be stressed out over.
It was rather odd.
Their total, if I heard her right, came to over $800.
Admittedly, they had a lot of stuff, but that still seems way over the top. They must have had really expensive tastes.
I bought rather a lot of stuff myself, but only came in at about a tenth of what they spent.
That’s just crazy.
The almost too-polite sister (again, I’m guessing) was a bit stunned by the expense as well – she was the one paying – and said something like, “That’s why dad and I just go out to eat.”
The other one just shrugged and took it in stride, saying that this was about typical.
(It’s worth noting that she was rather heavy…in much the way that Death Valley is rather warm.)
Apart from partially-preparing dinner tonight (based off of a Giada recipe), that’s pretty much been my day.
I spent much of yesterday afternoon and early evening watching episodes of Justice League Unlimited that I either hadn’t seen before, having missed them when they originally aired, or that were particular favorites.
Among those favorites? An episode entitled Double Date, written by none other than Gail Simone, who is one of my favorite comic book writers.
It’s an interesting episode, as it makes use of two characters who, at the time, were appearing regularly in her series Birds of Prey, but who are, naturally, very different, in many ways, from their printed versions. I think that added an interesting dynamic to the episode.
Plus that episode introduced what went on to become one of the most oddly compelling elements of the series, the I-never-saw-that-coming romance between The Huntress and The Question.
I saw today that all three Law & Order series are returning in the fall (if for no other reason than to just beat out Gunsmoke’s record as longest-running drama series, NBC really ought to keep L & O running for a few more years.), though they’re doing something odd with Criminal Intent, choosing to air first-run episodes on USA, then airing the rerun on NBC. That’s just kind of wacky.
Hopefully the fact that, as of tonight, Criminal Intent will be airing after Heroes will help out its ratings.
In any case, I suppose I should find something to do with what’s left of the afternoon.
Despite this, I fought desperately to not wake up fully, even though I knew it was probably time do so.
I managed to keep total wakefulness at bay for about fifteen minutes, but after the third pass of the mower by my window, I gave up the fight.
Once up I did the usual morning dicking around ritual before finally showering and getting dressed.
I didn’t shave, even though I haven’t shaved since Saturday morning, because I didn’t feel like it and decided that it didn’t make a damn bit of difference anyway. Oh no, my face is stubbly! What will all of the various hot single chicks I see in the course of a day think? Heavens!
I will, of course, shave somewhere along the line this week, simply because I have no desire to grow a beard, or whatever I could grow that would have to pass for a beard, but would actually consist of patchy bits of blonde fuzz interspersed with thick, black hairs that resemble nothing so much as the hairs growing out of Jeff Goldblum’s back in The Fly.
I have, on a couple of misguided occasions, grown a goatee, but the less said about that the better.
Besides, in addition to looking foolish and out of place on me, goatee maintenance seemed like much more of a bother than simple shaving.
Anyway, once I was dressed I headed to Best Buy, as I was planning to pick up a portable hard drive. I wanted one of the nice new external hard drives that are powered by USB and are very tiny so that I could load up all of my mp3s on it and be able to access them (and other files) from my tablet PC when travelling without having to bog down its relatively small capacity internal drive (60 GB, with much of that already used up).
And that’s just what I did, opting for the Western Digital 120 GB Passport.
It’s a slick little drive, and seems perfectly suited for its job.
The only problem is that I can’t get it to actually work on Hugin.
That’s not a huge deal, but is kind of annoying, as I wanted to be able to use the drive for quickly transferring large files between computers, and to use to access my mp3s on Hugin, as my connection to Munin often drops when I try to stream music from it, and Windows won’t let me add files stored on my NAS (Network Attached Storage) drive to my music library, and, again, I don’t want to bog down the already bogged-down drives on Hugin by copying over my mp3s.
The reason it won’t work on Hugin – basically, Vista sees the drive, installs a driver, and says it’s ready to use, but the drive never shows up in the list of available drives – is that there is so much crap connected to it via USB that there’s not enough power available to both power the drive and actually access it.
That’s my theory, anyway, based on some stuff I’ve read online.
I can access the drive on Hugin if I plug it into the USB port on my NAS drive, but that does nothing to resolve the problem not being able to add files on the NAS drive to my library (Which is by design on the part of MS, apparently. Thanks, Bill!).
After Best Buy it was off to the grocery store.
A few weeks ago I mentioned seeing someone who appeared cute whom I wanted to get a better look at, but despite my best efforts was unable to get close to in order to make a more complete inspection.
Today I had the opposite problem. There were these three people (husband, wife, and daughter, I think, though they were all fairly old), speaking in another language, which I think was Italian, though they were speaking in sort of hushed tones, so it made it hard to make anything out.
One of them, the older-looking woman, was pretty much talking non-stop, in this low, high-pitched murmur, that, combined with the fact that even if I could fully hear her I wouldn’t be able to understand, started to get on my nerves.
And of course they were always in front of things that I wanted to get to, so finally I just tried to get the hell away from them because they were pissing me off, but everywhere I went, there they were.
Also, they kept looking at me, perhaps shocked by the fact that I was out in the world unshaven.
Eventually I managed to lose them.
When I finally got to the registers – I had too much crap to go through self check-out – I found myself sort of baffled by the lady in front of me, who was buying, with her sister, I think, two carts’ worth of groceries.
The first thing that was strange about her was that she was polite enough to find a divider to put behind her groceries so that I could start putting mine on the belt.
It’s just generally unusual to find anyone who’s even remotely thoughtful in any fashion.
So that alone was odd, but then she went further and kept trying to move everything up faster so that I could get all of my groceries
She then turned to me, with a look of apologetic distress, and said, “That’s as far as I can move it all.”
I told her that was fine and that I could wait, and did my best to assure her that it was nothing to be stressed out over.
It was rather odd.
Their total, if I heard her right, came to over $800.
Admittedly, they had a lot of stuff, but that still seems way over the top. They must have had really expensive tastes.
I bought rather a lot of stuff myself, but only came in at about a tenth of what they spent.
That’s just crazy.
The almost too-polite sister (again, I’m guessing) was a bit stunned by the expense as well – she was the one paying – and said something like, “That’s why dad and I just go out to eat.”
The other one just shrugged and took it in stride, saying that this was about typical.
(It’s worth noting that she was rather heavy…in much the way that Death Valley is rather warm.)
Apart from partially-preparing dinner tonight (based off of a Giada recipe), that’s pretty much been my day.
I spent much of yesterday afternoon and early evening watching episodes of Justice League Unlimited that I either hadn’t seen before, having missed them when they originally aired, or that were particular favorites.
Among those favorites? An episode entitled Double Date, written by none other than Gail Simone, who is one of my favorite comic book writers.
It’s an interesting episode, as it makes use of two characters who, at the time, were appearing regularly in her series Birds of Prey, but who are, naturally, very different, in many ways, from their printed versions. I think that added an interesting dynamic to the episode.
Plus that episode introduced what went on to become one of the most oddly compelling elements of the series, the I-never-saw-that-coming romance between The Huntress and The Question.
I saw today that all three Law & Order series are returning in the fall (if for no other reason than to just beat out Gunsmoke’s record as longest-running drama series, NBC really ought to keep L & O running for a few more years.), though they’re doing something odd with Criminal Intent, choosing to air first-run episodes on USA, then airing the rerun on NBC. That’s just kind of wacky.
Hopefully the fact that, as of tonight, Criminal Intent will be airing after Heroes will help out its ratings.
In any case, I suppose I should find something to do with what’s left of the afternoon.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
A Mother Of A Day
First of all, Happy Mother’s Day to all the good mothers out there, like my mother, and hell, even the bad mothers out there, like Shaft.
Shortly after getting up today I called my mother, only to be rushed off the phone and told that she would call me back, as my brother Brad had called first.
Once she called back we talked about the usual things, and had our standard Sunday conversation, one that goes very much like this:
My Mother: What are you doing today?
Me: Probably nothing.
It brought to mind something I just read yesterday.
Several years ago a company called Paradox Press (a division of DC Comics) began putting out a series of “Big Books” that contained all sorts of facts and stories about particular subjects, done in standard comic form by a variety of artists.
Some of them included The Big Book of Conspiracies, The Big Book of Death, The Big Book of Scandal, and, the one I was reading yesterday, The Big Book of Weirdos (sic).
One such weirdo was a British aristocrat who was famous for doing nothing.
In his whole life, he never really did anything. He even spent a significant portion of the last part of his life just lying in bed not doing anything.
I’ve already done a lot more than he ever did, but that may just be a function of my not being a wealthy aristocrat, but one passage of his story in particular stood out for me: The less he did, the less he wanted to do.
That pretty well sums it up. The more of my life that’s been spent not doing the things I never felt especially inclined to do, the more I’ve become disinclined to do things.
And one of those things I’m disinclined to do? Pursue this topic any further.
Yesterday I got my purchase agreement for the buy-back in the mail. I’ve got to sign it and get it notarized, and then within 180 the deal should, presumably, go through, and I will no longer own this place.
In the meantime I need to get cracking on finding a new place.
I asked Brian just how bad the “bad” areas of Leesburg are, and he said that for me, it probably wouldn’t be too bad. My car might get broken into, which would be a hassle, and I’m sure there’s probably a lot of noise and domestic disturbances going on, so overall it would probably be too irritating, but the thing is, the prices on places in the bad areas are pretty damned tempting.
Of course, so are some of the prices in places like Maryland and West Virginia, though I really don’t want to move further away from work now that work is going to be moving closer to where I am now.
(Right now I’ve got a Ninja Talker yammering in my ear. Somewhere in one of the buildings in the immediate area there is a girl in her teens or early twenties who talks like this? Having a conversation? On the phone? Her conversation is reverberating around the parking lot and coming in through my window and making it sound like she’s in the room with me, but I can’t spot where she actually is located. Not quite as irritating as the two birds who were apparently practicing their Vaudeville act right outside my window at 6:30 this morning.)
Yesterday at work was another slow day, and in addition to reading the aforementioned Big Book, I also borrowed Night at the Museum from Scott and watched it on my laptop.
It was pretty entertaining, though I have to say that I found it pretty unbelievable.
I mean, a smart, beautiful woman like Carla Gugino’s character who’s actually single? As if.
Speaking of smart, attractive women who aren’t single because this is the real world, the other day I caught a glimpse of the no longer mentioned (because she’s far too into sports, is married, and I almost never see her anymore) Flame Chick (so called because she had shoes and a jacket that featured embroidered flames on them) the other day and noted that she’s gotten some ink done on her arm.
It made me sigh, as she is one of the very few attractive women I’ve ever encountered at work, and so it was a shame that she’s so into sports (which just can’t help but be a deal-breaker...though there never would have been a “deal”to begin with because I’m Jon) and is no longer single (if she ever was when I saw her around).
Oh well.
(Ninja Talker seems to have wrapped things up, but New Dog is still pissed about having been left alone 6 hours ago and so is still barking about it. I will not miss this place when I move.)
It is, necessarily, kind of a slow news day today, so I will leave those of you – if there are any of you apart from Scott – who are interested in comics-related stuff with the following links to sites I’ve been spending a lot of time on lately.
First up is Polite Dissent, which is a blog maintained by a doctor and comics fan who often writes interesting examinations of the use of medicine in comics, among other things.
Next up is Comics Should Be Good, which actually seems to have moved here, and more specifically, the entries on Comic Urban Legends. Very entertaining stuff.
And for the rest of you, here’s a link to something totally unrelated to comics, but still entertaining (It’s possibly NSFW, depending on whether or not anyone is looking over your shoulder, and is not for the easily offended, but if you are easily offended you have no business being here in the first place, so piss of and go be offended somewhere else. Or don’t. What do I care? You’re a weirdo who has some sick need to seek out things that will shock your sensibilities and offend you so that you can get some kind of righteous indignation-based boner [or its female equivalent], so what you do or don’t do is of no concern to me, you uptight, wadded-panty freak.)
Shortly after getting up today I called my mother, only to be rushed off the phone and told that she would call me back, as my brother Brad had called first.
Once she called back we talked about the usual things, and had our standard Sunday conversation, one that goes very much like this:
My Mother: What are you doing today?
Me: Probably nothing.
It brought to mind something I just read yesterday.
Several years ago a company called Paradox Press (a division of DC Comics) began putting out a series of “Big Books” that contained all sorts of facts and stories about particular subjects, done in standard comic form by a variety of artists.
Some of them included The Big Book of Conspiracies, The Big Book of Death, The Big Book of Scandal, and, the one I was reading yesterday, The Big Book of Weirdos (sic).
One such weirdo was a British aristocrat who was famous for doing nothing.
In his whole life, he never really did anything. He even spent a significant portion of the last part of his life just lying in bed not doing anything.
I’ve already done a lot more than he ever did, but that may just be a function of my not being a wealthy aristocrat, but one passage of his story in particular stood out for me: The less he did, the less he wanted to do.
That pretty well sums it up. The more of my life that’s been spent not doing the things I never felt especially inclined to do, the more I’ve become disinclined to do things.
And one of those things I’m disinclined to do? Pursue this topic any further.
Yesterday I got my purchase agreement for the buy-back in the mail. I’ve got to sign it and get it notarized, and then within 180 the deal should, presumably, go through, and I will no longer own this place.
In the meantime I need to get cracking on finding a new place.
I asked Brian just how bad the “bad” areas of Leesburg are, and he said that for me, it probably wouldn’t be too bad. My car might get broken into, which would be a hassle, and I’m sure there’s probably a lot of noise and domestic disturbances going on, so overall it would probably be too irritating, but the thing is, the prices on places in the bad areas are pretty damned tempting.
Of course, so are some of the prices in places like Maryland and West Virginia, though I really don’t want to move further away from work now that work is going to be moving closer to where I am now.
(Right now I’ve got a Ninja Talker yammering in my ear. Somewhere in one of the buildings in the immediate area there is a girl in her teens or early twenties who talks like this? Having a conversation? On the phone? Her conversation is reverberating around the parking lot and coming in through my window and making it sound like she’s in the room with me, but I can’t spot where she actually is located. Not quite as irritating as the two birds who were apparently practicing their Vaudeville act right outside my window at 6:30 this morning.)
Yesterday at work was another slow day, and in addition to reading the aforementioned Big Book, I also borrowed Night at the Museum from Scott and watched it on my laptop.
It was pretty entertaining, though I have to say that I found it pretty unbelievable.
I mean, a smart, beautiful woman like Carla Gugino’s character who’s actually single? As if.
Speaking of smart, attractive women who aren’t single because this is the real world, the other day I caught a glimpse of the no longer mentioned (because she’s far too into sports, is married, and I almost never see her anymore) Flame Chick (so called because she had shoes and a jacket that featured embroidered flames on them) the other day and noted that she’s gotten some ink done on her arm.
It made me sigh, as she is one of the very few attractive women I’ve ever encountered at work, and so it was a shame that she’s so into sports (which just can’t help but be a deal-breaker...though there never would have been a “deal”to begin with because I’m Jon) and is no longer single (if she ever was when I saw her around).
Oh well.
(Ninja Talker seems to have wrapped things up, but New Dog is still pissed about having been left alone 6 hours ago and so is still barking about it. I will not miss this place when I move.)
It is, necessarily, kind of a slow news day today, so I will leave those of you – if there are any of you apart from Scott – who are interested in comics-related stuff with the following links to sites I’ve been spending a lot of time on lately.
First up is Polite Dissent, which is a blog maintained by a doctor and comics fan who often writes interesting examinations of the use of medicine in comics, among other things.
Next up is Comics Should Be Good, which actually seems to have moved here, and more specifically, the entries on Comic Urban Legends. Very entertaining stuff.
And for the rest of you, here’s a link to something totally unrelated to comics, but still entertaining (It’s possibly NSFW, depending on whether or not anyone is looking over your shoulder, and is not for the easily offended, but if you are easily offended you have no business being here in the first place, so piss of and go be offended somewhere else. Or don’t. What do I care? You’re a weirdo who has some sick need to seek out things that will shock your sensibilities and offend you so that you can get some kind of righteous indignation-based boner [or its female equivalent], so what you do or don’t do is of no concern to me, you uptight, wadded-panty freak.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
