When I got here this morning, I greeted one of my coworkers with a, "Good morning!" She responded saying, "Happy Friday," and I said, "And it is a happy one, isn't it?"
What fools were we.
Today is easily the worst day of work ever. I have had two of the messiest, most difficult critical incidents (that's what I work with) ever, and on top of that, our company's redesign is hugely flawed, and we're really feeling those flaws in our call organization today. From 9:30-11, I had three very stressful issues freaking me out with force.
Now I'm not an easily stressed person. It takes a lot to shake me up. But this week has me completely fried. Thankfully I only have a three day week next week, but that still might be difficult. Here's what I believe I need to make it through to next weekend:
-Breakfast in bed at least once, preferably twice.
-A couple good foreign films (oddly the most comforting cinema around)
-Tea party.
-Up to, but no more than, three hours in a library or book store.
-A walk around the lakes or anywhere with fresh air and colored leaves.
-Many good naps.
-Lots of classical music.
At least my brain's not on fire, right?
9.29.2006
I Respect You, Car
Much too often when we're driving do we get stuck behind the putzes. They're going five mph under the limit, and they don't know they're pissing everybody off. Usually I get frustrated at these drivers, but today I recited this little ditty to myself to help me deal with it:
I respect your speed, car. You don't care that other people want to go faster and speed by you in disgust. They're the jerks, not you. You're calm and composed. You, madam, are the queen of the road.
And then I was really really happy when she took the next exit.
I respect your speed, car. You don't care that other people want to go faster and speed by you in disgust. They're the jerks, not you. You're calm and composed. You, madam, are the queen of the road.
And then I was really really happy when she took the next exit.
9.28.2006
The Return of Funny
I predict October will be the least funny month of my existence. It will be cold, and the cold isn't funny; it might be darker more often, and that's really not funny; and Halloween isn't funny at all. We've got 31 of the blandest days to look forward to, people. Hooray.
There are a few other unfunny months that were in the running, but I don't think they'll hold a candle to October 2006. There was September 2001, the first month of college, when I could laugh with no one, but that was merely the absence of funny, not its severe decline. Then there was January 2005, in which I lost my first fantasy football league. And let's not forget October 1997, the year of my freshman homecoming disaster.
Looks like all these non-funnies happen in the bleak months of the year. So basically we're screwed til next April. Until then,
There are a few other unfunny months that were in the running, but I don't think they'll hold a candle to October 2006. There was September 2001, the first month of college, when I could laugh with no one, but that was merely the absence of funny, not its severe decline. Then there was January 2005, in which I lost my first fantasy football league. And let's not forget October 1997, the year of my freshman homecoming disaster.
Looks like all these non-funnies happen in the bleak months of the year. So basically we're screwed til next April. Until then,
My Worst Nightmare
Last night I had the most terrifying dream I've ever had. What could be so scary, you ask? An art exhibit. I'm not talking "Night Gallery" here but actual museum art.
In my dream I went to see a Silence of the Lambs art exhibit, or so it was called. I walked through a door and entered a very large room with art on all the walls. The room was completely silent, and no one else was there. All the art works were portraits in pencil, and the all vaguely resembled Hannibal Lector, though I thought they were all different people.
That was it. And I was horrified. I was too scared to go back to sleep. But I did anyway.
In my dream I went to see a Silence of the Lambs art exhibit, or so it was called. I walked through a door and entered a very large room with art on all the walls. The room was completely silent, and no one else was there. All the art works were portraits in pencil, and the all vaguely resembled Hannibal Lector, though I thought they were all different people.
That was it. And I was horrified. I was too scared to go back to sleep. But I did anyway.
9.27.2006
Connie Chung
Remember when Connie Chung was a big deal? She was a superstar anchor on CNN, had her own interview hour called The Connie Chung Interview (I think), and then there was A Connie Chung Christmas, but now she's gone. She got pregnant and disappeared. How does that happen?
Part of my interest is that Connie Chung is a funny name, and part of my interest is that it's so bizarre. It belongs on Unsolved Mysteries. Famous anchorwoman suddenly vanishes from the face of the earth. Makes me think no famous anchorwomen are safe. Katie Couric, watch out.
Part of my interest is that Connie Chung is a funny name, and part of my interest is that it's so bizarre. It belongs on Unsolved Mysteries. Famous anchorwoman suddenly vanishes from the face of the earth. Makes me think no famous anchorwomen are safe. Katie Couric, watch out.
9.26.2006
The Mind of Jeshurun
I don't know if any of read Jess's blog, but his latest entry is definitely a fun read. Jess is a pretty creative guy, so he's got a lot of enjoyable ideas on that blog of his.
So this entry is a myth about the creation of alcohol. Myths have always intrigued me but not because I'm interested in the stories. I love them because I always wonder how big the gods are. Like with Promoetheus, the god who brought fire to man, I imagine this 200-ft-tall giant jumping off a cloud and handing a giant torch to a dirty, thick-bearded caveman. Of course the caveman is too small to carry it, so he inadvertently burns his village down. In Jess's story, I imagined this giant Hugh with a giant goblet full of booze just pouring his goblet out on everyone while they stand below with their mouths open. But too much comes down and destroys their civilization and washes them out to sea. That's probably what happened to Atlantis.
Anyway, gods are big, and if I ever met one, I think I'd be really intimidated. And then I'd be crushed like an ant.
So this entry is a myth about the creation of alcohol. Myths have always intrigued me but not because I'm interested in the stories. I love them because I always wonder how big the gods are. Like with Promoetheus, the god who brought fire to man, I imagine this 200-ft-tall giant jumping off a cloud and handing a giant torch to a dirty, thick-bearded caveman. Of course the caveman is too small to carry it, so he inadvertently burns his village down. In Jess's story, I imagined this giant Hugh with a giant goblet full of booze just pouring his goblet out on everyone while they stand below with their mouths open. But too much comes down and destroys their civilization and washes them out to sea. That's probably what happened to Atlantis.
Anyway, gods are big, and if I ever met one, I think I'd be really intimidated. And then I'd be crushed like an ant.
9.25.2006
Behind a Truck
Today I am very tired. I feel like my brain disappeared. Or maybe it got heavier. Either way, I can't think and don't want to.
On my drive to work, I got behind a truck. I was too tired to change lanes, so I just stuck it out, despite the fact that the truck could only go 30-40 miles per hour. It was a strange experience, to go that slow and not get frustrated. And then when the truck changed lanes, I felt sad. I didn't want to go faster, but I had to. Kind of like I didn't want to get out of bed, but I had to. Perhaps today I'm behind a metaphorical truck?
I don't care that this entry sucks.
On my drive to work, I got behind a truck. I was too tired to change lanes, so I just stuck it out, despite the fact that the truck could only go 30-40 miles per hour. It was a strange experience, to go that slow and not get frustrated. And then when the truck changed lanes, I felt sad. I didn't want to go faster, but I had to. Kind of like I didn't want to get out of bed, but I had to. Perhaps today I'm behind a metaphorical truck?
I don't care that this entry sucks.
9.23.2006
3 Days Later
My apartment still smells like the falafel I made three whole days ago. This is not right. They sound-proofed the place so I don't hear the airplanes, but that shouldn't make it smell-proofed too. Sure, I could open the windows, but then it'll get cold and I'll hear the airplanes again. There's no solution. I'm doomed.
But seriously now, can anybody explain to me why my apartment clings to its smells for so long? This hasn't happened anywhere else I've lived. Maybe it's just the weatherstripping is better here.
But seriously now, can anybody explain to me why my apartment clings to its smells for so long? This hasn't happened anywhere else I've lived. Maybe it's just the weatherstripping is better here.
9.22.2006
Giraffe Hunting
Does anybody ever go giraffe hunting? It seems insanely cruel, which is why I wonder that I've never heard the hippies complain about it. Elephants seem like they don't take poaching that seriously, like it's just a natural part of the elephant life, but with giraffes it seems like a seriously terrible thing to do. What human being would kill a giraffe?
On the other hand, what would keep people from killing giraffes? Their necks? I guess it may make the carcasses a little difficult to move. Maybe their spots camoflauge them really well, and the poachers just can't find them.
No, I think I figured it out. Giraffes are immortal. Think about it. When was the last time you saw a dead giraffe? Never! I did a google image search (one of my new favorite pasttimes) for "dead giraffe," and all that came up were pictures of living giraffes. And then there was this one:
On the other hand, what would keep people from killing giraffes? Their necks? I guess it may make the carcasses a little difficult to move. Maybe their spots camoflauge them really well, and the poachers just can't find them.
No, I think I figured it out. Giraffes are immortal. Think about it. When was the last time you saw a dead giraffe? Never! I did a google image search (one of my new favorite pasttimes) for "dead giraffe," and all that came up were pictures of living giraffes. And then there was this one:
I'm Just Here for the Free Cake
This actually happened.
There is cake on the table near my pod at work. Some stranger comes up and helps himself to it.
STRANGER: Good morning!
MY COWORKER: Yeah, it's Friday!
STRANGER: This cake looks delicious.
MY COWORKER: It is. I love cheesecake.
STRANGER: Whose birthday is it?
MY COWORKER: Lisa's.
STRANGER: Tell her I say happy birthday when she gets back.
MY COWORKER: Wait, who are you?
STRANGER: I'm Dan.
MY COWORKER: Do you work here?
STRANGER: Not as such.
MY COWORKER: What are you doing here?
STRANGER: I'm in town for the weekend from Toronto, and I heard you had some free cake.
MY COWORKER: How did you get in here?
MY OTHER COWORKER: Cut him some slack, there's plenty of cake.
STRANGER: Thanks.
MY COWORKER: You should leave.
STRANGER: I can't.
MY COWORKER: Why not?
STRANGER: I'm still eating my cake.
Silence
STRANGER: (with mouth full of cake) This weather sure sucks, huh?
There is cake on the table near my pod at work. Some stranger comes up and helps himself to it.
STRANGER: Good morning!
MY COWORKER: Yeah, it's Friday!
STRANGER: This cake looks delicious.
MY COWORKER: It is. I love cheesecake.
STRANGER: Whose birthday is it?
MY COWORKER: Lisa's.
STRANGER: Tell her I say happy birthday when she gets back.
MY COWORKER: Wait, who are you?
STRANGER: I'm Dan.
MY COWORKER: Do you work here?
STRANGER: Not as such.
MY COWORKER: What are you doing here?
STRANGER: I'm in town for the weekend from Toronto, and I heard you had some free cake.
MY COWORKER: How did you get in here?
MY OTHER COWORKER: Cut him some slack, there's plenty of cake.
STRANGER: Thanks.
MY COWORKER: You should leave.
STRANGER: I can't.
MY COWORKER: Why not?
STRANGER: I'm still eating my cake.
Silence
STRANGER: (with mouth full of cake) This weather sure sucks, huh?
Cat on Phone
I don't know why I found this. I just did a google image search for "cat on phone," and this is what it showed me. I was actually surprised by the very small number of pictures of real cats holding phones. This was the only one. Am I the only person who thinks that's weird?
I like this one cuz the cat has one paw over the talking end, like he has to say something to someone in the room. The way he's looking at the camera, he's like, "Hey photographer, it's for you." Either that or, "Look at me, I'm on the phone!" and then back to the phone call, "What's that you say Mr. Sugarbottom?"
I like this one cuz the cat has one paw over the talking end, like he has to say something to someone in the room. The way he's looking at the camera, he's like, "Hey photographer, it's for you." Either that or, "Look at me, I'm on the phone!" and then back to the phone call, "What's that you say Mr. Sugarbottom?"
A Network of Nonsense
Yesterday I got a little toy astronaut for a gift. But this isn't a story about how I got, it's a story about what happened afterwards.
This astronaut comes from a company called Ticomix, and there's a website printed on the astronaut for me to check out. So I checked it out. I half-expected it to be some corporate comic book ("Ticomix" = "Ty Comics"?). I mean, the astronaut carries a wrench and has claws; maybe that's his superpower? Failing that, I figured it had to be some sort of pharmaceutical product. I was wrong on both counts.
Ticomix is in all probability a ghost company or a money-laundering front. Their slogan is "A network of solutions," which is exactly like saying, "We don't do anything." If they actually do something, most of the people who work there probably don't know what it is. Things they "do" include "data conversions" and "technical system evaluation," and one of their products is called "gismo." Not making this up. I almost wish they would at least pretend they were a real company, but that wouldn't be as entertaining.
The astronaut is part of a program they have that simulates Apollo 13. Like they make people play Houston and try to get the astronauts back home alive. It looks like work groups or schools go to wherever-this-place-is and Ticomix throws them in a room and says, "You have 10 hours before your astronauts die. Good luck." It's supposed to be a learning experience. And it costs $250, which supposedly saves you $450. I'm sorry, but if I'm spending $250, I am saving nothing. They better give everybody a puppy for that kind of entry fee. A space puppy, actually.
They have a customer quote on their website from the Rock Valley Federal Credit Union that says, "You and your staff have done a wonderful job and I look forward to our ongoing relationship." This is the kind of thing you say to a janitor. Or a mob boss. But I think that devalues what janitors and mob bosses do for our society.
This astronaut toy is seriously making my day, though.
This astronaut comes from a company called Ticomix, and there's a website printed on the astronaut for me to check out. So I checked it out. I half-expected it to be some corporate comic book ("Ticomix" = "Ty Comics"?). I mean, the astronaut carries a wrench and has claws; maybe that's his superpower? Failing that, I figured it had to be some sort of pharmaceutical product. I was wrong on both counts.
Ticomix is in all probability a ghost company or a money-laundering front. Their slogan is "A network of solutions," which is exactly like saying, "We don't do anything." If they actually do something, most of the people who work there probably don't know what it is. Things they "do" include "data conversions" and "technical system evaluation," and one of their products is called "gismo." Not making this up. I almost wish they would at least pretend they were a real company, but that wouldn't be as entertaining.
The astronaut is part of a program they have that simulates Apollo 13. Like they make people play Houston and try to get the astronauts back home alive. It looks like work groups or schools go to wherever-this-place-is and Ticomix throws them in a room and says, "You have 10 hours before your astronauts die. Good luck." It's supposed to be a learning experience. And it costs $250, which supposedly saves you $450. I'm sorry, but if I'm spending $250, I am saving nothing. They better give everybody a puppy for that kind of entry fee. A space puppy, actually.
They have a customer quote on their website from the Rock Valley Federal Credit Union that says, "You and your staff have done a wonderful job and I look forward to our ongoing relationship." This is the kind of thing you say to a janitor. Or a mob boss. But I think that devalues what janitors and mob bosses do for our society.
This astronaut toy is seriously making my day, though.
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