More Mad Howls

The Employment Drought Ends - Temporarily!!!

2010-09-19T10:25:00.000-07:00

Yes, an employer has finally been guilted into hiring me! For a few months, at least.

Now, I'm sure that, once y'all have recovered from the shock of such unexpected news, there will be questions. You know, "Who are you working for?" "Do they actually pay you?" "Do they actually pay you in cash?" and so forth. So I'll try to answer some of those questions now. I've only been employed two days, so there will be updates.

1. Where are you working?

Seattle.

2. Okay, smartass, for whom are you working?

This is where things become complicated. I'm sure that everyone has read or heard various theories about the Government (federal, state, county, city, grange hall, etc.) being a hideous conspiracy to oppress the rich. Well... it's true. Whether it's making them pay livable wages and Social Security for domestic help (instead of offering room and board for escapees from Central America) or trying to tax them to pay for the freeways built so they can enjoy their Hummers and BMWs, the Government is all about oppressing the rich.

Some of you are saying, "The President/Governor/Mayor/Grange Hall President is rich! Why would they be interested in oppressing themselves?" Think of professional sports leagues - baseball or football, for example. Notice how there's an American League and a National League? Yes, they're all rich, but still, there are two leagues. Well, it's pretty much the same in government. Two leagues, both rich. So whichever league is winning (or running the government) wants to take at least some money from the league that's losing (or not running the government).

And that's where my job comes in. I'm a foot soldier in CORPS - Coalition to Oppress Rich PeopleS. It is a secret govt. agency, to be sure. I may have told some of you that I work for Roads and Bridges, or Housing for Indigent Mammals - and in a way I do, indirectly. But mostly I'm going to be about this:

If our training materials are to be believed, usually when we get a rich person to this point in our proceedings they'll agree to hire registered aliens or pay an extra $500/yr to repair the bridges they drive over every day.

I know this makes me sound like a class warrior. But I'm not. I'd love to be rich. I just wouldn't try to cheat the poor, that's all. Because we all know the poor control everything.

3. You actually get paid for this?

Yes. Cash, health & dental, vacation and sick leave, and a bus pass.

4. This really sounds as if it should be a volunteer job...

They tried that at CORPS and had 50,000 applicants. Too many to weed through. So they made it a real job. There were over 800 applicants for the platoon that was just hired on (of which I am a member).

5. And they really do pay you in cash?

Some of my readers may wonder why the hell I'm making a big deal out of this. But my friends and former coworkers at Megadynecorp Technologies appreciate my obsession with cash. MDC Technologies paid in bags of expired croutons from the Marie Callender's restaurant up the road (cases of them if you were a unit manager) and belly button lint.

Oh, I almost forgot Binder Clip Day (BCD)! Once a year at MDC T we'd get to fill one pocket with all the binder clips it could hold. I would rent a kangaroo for the day, stick a plastic trash bag in its marsupium, and enjoy a binder clip bonanza! (So now you guys know why I always looked funny and refused to speak on Binder Clip Day.)

Other details about the job - 1 hour for lunch, two 15 minute breaks, non-stop snacking opportunities. And there is decent coffee (and a sucky restaurant) within a five-minute walk. And we get chairs at our desks, instead of having to construct our own out of busted-up shipping pallets and staples (thanks for all the splinters, MDC!).

My fellow platoon members all seem quite nice - in fact, they've elected me the most sadistic member of the group - woo hoo! But it's an intelligent group of people - after all, in the Puget Sound area, the rich generally do not advertise by wearing tiaras and floor-length mink coats. We have to be able to tell the shabbily-dressed rich from the shabbily-dressed working class.

I've met a couple of our IT folks - yes, we use the Interwebz to hunt down people - and they seem really nice, friendly, competent:

One thing I want to mention - I've reported some MegaDyneCorp Technologies policies here in an unflattering light. These policies do not reflect on my friends and former coworkers there, who suffered as I did under the crouton and lint policies!!! I just want to make that clear. I hold CEO Torquemada Johnson responsible for such policies, him and his Bored of Directors...

Anyway, as stated above I've only been working two days, so there's not much news yet... but I'll keep you updated on all the fun at CORPS! And hey, you guys at MDC Technologies - save me some croutons, if you can spare them. I kind got used to them!

I'm rich! Rich, I tells ya!

2010-04-11T16:37:00.000-07:00

Fresh from my adventures of being an unwitting spammer (can we say "AOL has no defenses against hackers"?), I was happy to see my luck improve with the announcement of a fine, large inheritance:

From: Mr. Thomas Glasgow
Remittance Manager
Barclays Bank Plc.
Phone Number: +44-762-419-0409
Attention: Beneficiary

This Is To Officially Inform You That We Have Verified Your Contract Inheritance File Presently On My Desk, And I Found Out That You Have Not Received Your Payment Due To Your Lack Of Co-Operation And Not Fulfilling The Obligations Giving To You In Respect To Your Contract /Inheritance Payment.
Secondly, You Are Hereby Advice To Stop Dealing With Some Non-Officials In The Bank As This Is An Illegal Act And Will Have To Stop If You So Wish To Receive Your Payment Immediately. After The Board Meeting Held At Our Headquarters, We Have Resolved In Finding A Solution To Your Problem, And As You May Know, We Have Arranged Your Payment Through Our Swift Card Payment Centre In Europe, America And Asia Pacific, Which Is Then Instruction Given By Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth.
This Card Centre Will Send You An Atm Card Which You Will Use To Withdraw Your Money In An Atm Machine In Any Part Of The World, But The Maximum Is (Ј15,000.00) Five Thousand British Pound Per Transaction. So, If You Like To Receive Your Fund This Way, Ј15,000 Gbp For You To Withdraw For A Day And Each Transaction Is Ј5,000gbp Minimum Which You Have To Withdraw Ј15,000 Gbp For One Working Day Also Be Informed That The Total Amount In The Swift Atm Card Is Ј14.6 Million Gbp.
(1) Your Full Name:
(2) Your Address Where You Want the Payment Centre to Send Your Atm Card.:
(3) Phone and Fax Number:
(4) Age and Occupation:
(5) Your Nearest International Air Port in Your City Of Residence:
We Shall Be Expecting To Receive Your Information You Have Stop Any Further Communication With Anybody Or Office. On This Regards, Do Not Hesitate To Contact Me For More Details And Direction, And Also Please Do Update Me With Any New Development.
Thanks for Your Co-Operation.
Best Regards,
Mr. Thomas Glasgow
Remittance Manager
Barclays Bank Plc
Barclays Bank Plc. Registered In England. Barclays Bank Plc Is Authorized And Regulated By The Financial Services Authority (Fsa). Registered No 1026167. Barclays Insurance Services Company Limited Is Authorized And Regulated By The Fsa. Registered No 973765. Registered Office For Both: 1 Churchill Place, London, E14 5hp. "The Woolwich" And "Woolwich" Are Trademarks And Trading Names Of Barclays Bank Plc. Barclays Business Is A Trading Name Of Barclays Bank Plc. Barclays Bank Plc Subscribes To The Lending Code Which Is Monitored And Enforced By The Lending Standards Board And Is Licensed And Regulated By The Office Of Fair Trading For The Provision Of Credit Products To Consumers And Related Services.

See? Good things can happen to all of us. I, for example, am going to send a copy of this along with my resume so they can see I'd produce much better written unsolicited emails than this one. Sooooo many things wrong with this I don't know where to start. But I'm intrigued by the idea that you could get 14,000,000 pounds from ATM machines.

If you have any suggestions on how to spend this munificence, please let me know. I expect to get my card any day now, as soon as I send them my SSN, credit card numbers, bank account numbers, and send them the deed to my mother's house... 14 million pounds is nothing to sneeze at, after all!

A Pleasant Discovery

2010-04-02T11:03:00.000-07:00

My French is better than Google's translator!

I've been listening to Daniele Balavoine's 1978 hit song, "Le Chanteur".

Interesting how different musical presentation is - I love that he just sticks his hands in his pockets! That bit at the end where he looks like he's undergoing some sort of monstrous transformation? Well, he's saying that he wants to (after achieving great fame) die unhappy but without regrets. (Considering he died in the mid 1980s in a helicopter crash in the deserts of Africa, he probably was unhappy, but in a different way than he meant in the song, I'm sure.)

Anyway, I can pick out some words here and there but wanted a better understanding of the song than my extremely rusty skills could manage. So first I found a good version of the French lyrics (not as easy as one might thing - lots of free lyrics sites out there but they often get lyrics wrong, even in English).

Here are the first two stanzas (there's a reason you non-French speaking types are getting this):

Je m'présente, je m'appelle Henri
J'voudrais bien réussir ma vie, être aimé
Etre beau gagner de l'argent
Puis surtout être intelligent
Mais pour tout ça il faudrait que j'bosse à plein temps

J'suis chanteur, je chante pour mes copains
J'veux faire des tubes et que ça tourne bien, tourne bien
J'veux écrire une chanson dans le vent
Un air gai, chic et entraînant
Pour faire danser dans les soirées de Monsieur Durand

And here's the Google translation:

I m'présente, my name is Henry (s/b something like "Let me introduce myself")
J'voudrais do well my life, to be loved (s/b "I want")
Be nice to earn money
Can be especially intelligent
But for all that would have j'bosse full time (s/b work hard, slave away, etc.)

I'm singing, I sing for my friends (s/b "I'm a singer" - that one is like first month French!)
I Want to tubes and it runs well, runs well (Idiomatic for "I want to make hit records" - Google gets a pass on that one)
I Want to write a song in the wind
A gay, chic and resulting (it left out the word 'air', which I think is either a light song or an attitude)
To dance in the evening Mr Durand (I'm pretty sure this is supposed to be "I will dance at the soirees of M Durand - soiree means 'evening' but is a very common word meaning an 'evening gathering', etc.)

For those who are concerned with the lyrics (that would pretty much be just me), this is pretty ridiculous - this isn't terribly idiomatic French in these two stanzas. The translator should do better than simply plugging in the first dictionary definition it comes to.

And for those who don't give a rat's ass about Europop, let this be a warning about how far to trust Google translator. Even if you use it, make sure you find someone with knowledge of the original language, or who knows what sort of mad scientist activity you'll end up involved in.

Farcebook

2010-03-29T14:46:00.000-07:00

News flash (not) - a lot of people are on Farcebook these days, for many hours a day. And from what I can tell it’s mostly designed for office workers and students. I mean, I’m unemployed but if I spent as much time on Farcebook as other folks do, I’d have died of starvation by now.

That’s not intended as criticism of people who spend a lot of time on the site. Actually, I kind of envy them. But I think I might not be envying much. Like my friend’s young daughter who saw the Snuggie ad on TV and envied those people their fun-inspiring blankets. Only to discover, when she finally got her Snuggie, that it wasn’t the blanket that was the agent of fun.

So even though I am on Farcebook, I’m still antisocial and cranky and would rather be looking at Victorian knitting patterns. I guess I need a site for the cranky and antisocial. Snarkbook, perhaps.

What I’m really trying to say about being on Farcebook is that I don’t belong there.

It’s not that I don’t like, or am not interested, in what my friends are doing. But Farcebook replaces meaningful conversations with something else, the equivalent of sound bites, and games instead of actually one-on-one meetups and hanging out. I miss seeing the people I worked with and chatting with them, and making them look at my knitting. Farcebook is no replacement for that.

Perhaps if validation by others was important to me, I wouldn’t notice the shortcomings of such a site. But I’m self-absorbed enough that I don’t care if everyone knows what I’ve read in the NY Times today. I have a few people who get that sort of spam from me all the time - I figure the rest of the world can live without it. So status updates aren’t something I’m driven to do. “Still unemployed” would cover it pretty much every day.

And then there’s the Farcebook activities. I suck at those.

When I first joined all my friends were inviting me to this thing and that - like Super Pets. Since I haven’t fed my pet dragon in something like 9 months to a year, I’m sure he’s now a specimen in the Museum of Natural History.

What's left of my SuperPet Khan

Or the farming games. I got invited to two of them by people whom I really like. But I simply don’t have what it takes to check on my crops. I tried, dear readers, I really tried. But my poor Farcebook friends who’ve invited me to be their neighbors have an absentee landlord. My farms, last time I visited, looked like the Dust Bowl.

My Farmville plot last year

I fixed them up… but haven’t been back in months, and my turnips were going to need harvesting within three days… I’m sure that once again I’m lording it over plantations of dried crops, starved livestock, and tumbleweeds blowing everywhere.

Trying to save the farm - yet again.

Getting the hell out of Farmville while we still can.

There are other games that I joined, find the monster egg, etc., and some of the gift things were fun, I thought. But no one seemed interested in getting pestilences from me, and I could find no one to give me 20th Century composers. Wimps - what, are y’all afraid of Xenakis or Takemitsu?

Xenakis & Takemitsu only look scary...

and sound scary...

but they were really nice guys.

Honest.

I do check the site once a day. And realized last week that, since they changed the setups recently, I hadn’t seen my wall in ages. When I finally discovered how to get there, I had several birthday wishes that were ignored. Not because I wasn’t looking for them, or hated the senders. It was because I couldn’t negotiate the damned site.

So I’m going to stay on Farcebook and check it once a day, and continue to suck at being a good citizen, and dream of the day when Snarkbook gets up and running.

{Oh yeah, Twister? I have a Twister account. I’ve participated in two Twister knit-alongs (KALs). Yes, I only joined for the knitting. I had a follower, some young lass, I had no idea who she was. I guess she eventually figured out she didn’t know me either, because she quit following me…}

Aurantium Shawl, KAL #1

(not the one I'm knitting)

Twister KAL #2 - Lithuanian Wristers

(not the ones I knitted)

"But I was so hungry, I had to eat it."

2010-01-08T22:07:00.000-08:00

Russian cannibal who ate his mother given lighter sentence by judge who says 'he was starving, he needed to eat'

A cannibal who killed and ate parts of his mother had his sentence reduced by a judge who said 'he needed to eat'.

Sergey Gavrilov secured reduced time in jail after confessing: 'I did not like the meat very much. It was too fatty. But I was so hungry, I had to eat it.'

The 27-year-old was given a lenient prison sentence because the judge said he was starving and needed to eat after spending all his money on vodka and gambling machines.

Happy Tuber Year!

2010-01-01T13:08:00.000-08:00

This little goody is sold by the Royal Society for the Abolition of Tuber Blights. A catchy little image, what?

I admit, I've been neglecting y'all. I've been cheating on this blog with my knitting blog, mostly because those folks know to expect old crap - old photos, old movies, old knitting patterns. Y'all want modern stuff, consarn it!

The last part of 2009 can be summed up as "too poor to do anything but stay home and re-write history." My holidays have been a combination of nasty cold and back spasms. My only solace these days is the Charlie Chan dvd set, requiring neither mental acuity nor heavy lifting to watch them.

I promise you, though, if anything interesting happens to me that I haven't made up from sheer boredom, I'll post again. But right now, Charlie is about to nab the killer, so I'll catch you later.

Happy New Year!

I'm A Star!

2009-11-29T22:24:00.000-08:00

In truth, I still have to scenes to finish (they are only half done),

and the finale which is completely blank.

I'll write them tomorrow.

I expect they will be abbreviated versions of what will happen in the next draft,

placeholders for the next round of writing.

Then I'm going to take a month off

- from this novel, not the other one -

to start my research.

That's right, I wrote a novel before I did the research.

But I've written over 50,000 words this month.

I rock.

Special thanks to Kathleen, and Anton-R!

Oh, and Weyerhaeuser, for laying me off in the worst

job market ever -

so much time, and so little money equal

fifty thousand words.

Medieval Help Desk (with subtitles!)

2009-08-31T11:41:00.000-07:00

Captain Kirk's Compensation issues

2009-08-03T13:19:00.000-07:00

A screen shot from Star Trek: TOS.

Capt. Kirk obviously feels his own equipment is inadequate to the task. I wonder what Spock would say? (Suggestions welcome.)

Good Summer Reading (circa 1875)

2009-07-16T00:50:00.000-07:00

He's dead, Jim!

I just finished reading the first half of that classic novel, "The Somnambulist and the Detective" by Allan Pinkerton. Yes, the Allan Pinkerton for whom the Pinkerton National Detective Agency was named. Allan moved here from Scotland with his bride, began as a private detective in Chicago in 1849 or 1850, eventually met up with some muck-a-mucks (click the link if you want details; I'm not going to repeat a Wikipedia article), popularized such detective tricks and shadowing (tailing, following) and what we would now consider undercover work, and eventually put his name on a series of fictionalized accounts of his career (rumor has it they were ghostwritten).

The story begins with a young bank clerk being killed and a bank robbed. This all takes place somewhere down south; most of the evidence is overlooked by the locals, since it leads to the best friend of the deceased because class matters in 1850 Mississippi, and the best friend, Mr Drysdale, is of the best of families. But ol' Pinky, who is called in as a last-chance attempt to catch the killer/robber, is a cranky Scot, he is, and he dinna care fer a man's standing in the community. After examining clews, weighing evidence, and sucking down mint juleps galore, he trots back to Chicago, and formulates a plan so cunning that you could put a tail on it and call it a weasel. A large, inefficient, clunky weasel.

Next we know, a widow (Mrs Potter), a man of means (Mr Andrews), and a young carpenter (Mr Green) descend upon this small town. All are operatives of ol' Pinky - oops, I should have said spoiler alert. Now y'all will know how the story ends.

Their job is to figure out how to get a confession from the murderer Drysdale. Mrs Potter (not her real name) befriends the innocent wife of the alleged murderer...

Hard-boiled female detective schmoozes up innocent housewife

...you can see the evidence for yourself. In fact, this heartless undercover agent fakes an injury to infiltrate their household - a shameful pretense of being dependent upon the kindness of strangers. Indeed!

"She's suffered severe trauma, Jim!"

Mrs P starts smearing blood all over their home in the middle of the night in order to freak out the suspect. Talk about the house guest from hell...

Meanwhile, Messers Andrew and Green (not their real names) plot to drive Drysdale insane, in case Mrs P's imitation of "The Shining" doesn't work. (Okay, okay, this book came before "The Shining".) Mr Green looks like the deceased, so they dress him up to look like, well, a zombie in order to freak out the suspect even more.

"He's undead, Jim!"

And it works - but only some of the time. Our alleged murderer gets up and wanders in the middle of the night to the locations where he has buried the stolen money, and doesn't notice the zombie during his late-night strolls.

"He's the living dead, Jim!"

At this point, I know, you're hoping for a zombie war, or perhaps a face-off between a zombie and, say, a nosferatu. No such luck, dear readers. If the title hasn't already given it away, he's sleepwalking! Yes, sleepwalking. Wow! And FYI, that's a large, flat rock that our sleepwalker is holding. He's not wrestling with an alien life form or anything. Sorry.

By now, Drysdale is in hysterics. No southern belle could out psychosomatic him at this point, and I mean it. For instance, every time he finds the blood smeared in his room, he faints and says that he is weak from loss of blood... but he hasn't really lost any blood. So why is weak and faint - hysteria? Nerves? Guilt? A secret opium habit we're never told about?

No matter. They've succeeded in making him crazy. And yet, he still won't confess.

From what I can tell, the operations of these three detectives has probably taken three to six months. Honestly, if all his cases were this labor-intensive and drawn out, there is no way Allan Pinkerton would have become the rich, worker-hating lawman that he became.

Anyway, Pinkterton returns to the south, and gets together with everyone to plan one last attempt to coerce a confession from this dude without using a waterboard or lynch laws. Mr Green gets into his zombie togs again, and hides in the bank - the scene of the original crime. They arrest Mr Drysdale and take him to the bank. (If you're like me, you feel like you're suddenly in an episode of "The Beverly Hillbillies", but you're not; hillbillies could not afford Pinkerton's fees back in 1856.) I'll let the lovely illustration show you the moment when they break the killer:

"Dammit, Jim, I'm a murderer, not a doctor!"

Ah yes, they just don't confess like this anymore. And look at Mr Sourface McMustache in the background (just to the left of Drysdale) - stern and judgmental. That's a level four glare of disapproval. If it had been a level five, Drysdale would be a heap of ashes or a puddle of goo on the floor.

Eh, I give the story a C, mostly for being brief and having some lovely illustrations. The plot was ridiculous - but not as ridiculous as "The Ghoul", a book which I will review in loving detail someday. If you're not going to be a realistic mystery, you should go all out for crazy, over-the-top thrills, which "The Ghoul" delivers. The second half of the Pinkerton book is a tale entitled, "The Murderer and the Fortune-teller". If it's any good - or if the drawings are the least bit entertaining - I'll let you know.

Why I always travel with my knitting - even to the grocery store!

2009-07-02T16:40:00.000-07:00

Always Keep Your Knitting Near!
by Shannon on April 8, 2009

One bright spot in the news about the recent Italian earthquake: a 98-year-old woman pulled alive from the rubble spent her time knitting and crocheting while waiting to be saved.

From the Telegraph:

Maria D’Antuono told rescuers that during the 30 hours she was trapped, she occupied herself by knitting and doing crochet. The stone house where the 98-year-old was buried under her bed in the village of Tempera, was a scene of devastation having completely collapsed on one side.

Let this be a lesson to you — always keep your knitting nearby, you never know what might happen and it’s good to be prepared!

{NB - The earthquake took place in Abruzzo, the same region my grandfather was from. It must be something genetic that compels us to be near knitting at all times!}

How The Unemployed Spend Their Saturdays

2009-06-28T16:04:00.000-07:00

I had a knitting project I wanted to finish.
I have neither cable nor fancy new converter rabbit ears setup thingy to watch broadcast TV.
That leaves me with streaming video.
hulu.
And TJ Hooker.

This show debuted in my last year of college. I did not see many episodes during its short (I think it was short) run. I do remember a few things about it – bad 1980’s clothing (there was a reason I was a punk), baaaaad acting (with William Shatner leading the pack), horrible scripts which seem to involve violence to scantily clad women.

Watching the five episodes on hulu, my memories were refreshed – and it was worse than I recalled.

If you’re going to watch just one episode (and I really think you ought to, particularly if you’ve been wishing you were 30 years younger), I recommend the pilot episode. Here are some frame grabs (I’m not very good at these, but I think they’ll do the trick):

Here’s Adrian Zmed busting a move on the dance floor. And we’re talking busting a move. He’s the rookie who becomes Shatner’s partner for the rest of the season (or longer – told you, I didn’t watch the show much).

Talk about your disco infernos - this guy would have to be a disco pyromaniac!

Next shot is of a deceased gang member. Notice the colors he’s wearing.

Far as I know, there would have been only one group in California in the early 1980’s who would have chosen lavender for their colors. And the name of the gang on the TV show made me wonder if one of the writers was trying to get something over on the audience (consider – The Purple Stallions). Perhaps they thought the Lavender Stallions was more obvious than they cared to be, but with the gang colors they were sporting, anyone under the age of 40 would have guessed.

{I really want to make some comment about purple helmeted warriors of love riding the purple stallions, but I can't think of anything clever enough for posterity.}

Final shot is of one of the characters in tight short shorts at the squad picnic.

For god’s sake, please please please – I don’t care how tight your arse it – nobody come to the MDC picnic in this outfit!

OMG OMG OMG!!!

2009-06-25T11:42:00.000-07:00

I'm not going to write extensively about this; I'm just going to ask my readers to please please please read as much of it as you can. It gets REALLY good in the later sections. He's about to be rich, after all. {Watch him become really rich - probably through some swindle - but still...}

I don't know why the sound of phrases such as the one below don't appeal to me from a prospective mate - there must be something wrong with me:

I would love to find a woman who herself is a leader (but I do not require that she be a leader)... and I am referring to her being a leader in the world, NOT the leader in our Love Dance. In our Love Dance, she surrenders her exquisite femininity to my powerful masculine lead and lets me FEED her with the energy she needs to be powerful and effective in ALL that she does in the world.

Needless to say, if this is what's out there for single girls, I'm most likely to remain single for the ages.

Note to Noisy - he doesn't like 'rock 'n' roll', so there would be no Butthole Surfers played in his home. How boring!

Oops!

2009-02-17T16:04:00.000-08:00

Got so distracted by the idea of diaper-wielding zealots that I forgot to post today's jammy cam - check out the cool rock!

Looking for Work

2009-02-17T13:29:00.000-08:00

Some of you may know that I recently interviewed for a job. Sad to say, I did not get the job. I attribute this in part to my failure to wear my kick-ass boots - the ones that say, "Hire me or else."

However, in my long hours looking at weird photos on the internet (I'm unemployed - I've got those long hours to waste), I did come up with a look I think I may use at the next interview - it's sure to get me hired!

If one of these women showed up for a job interview, would you dare tell them "No"? In fact, I think all admin should consider this basic attire for the job. There is historical precedent:

And of course friends are always helpful with suggestions for ways to earn money. Here's what some of my tech friends are doing since they were laid off:

I'm looking for a nice piece of that plastic-coated poster board for my own sign (it's Seattle - it rains - I don't want to have to make a new sign each day or week) - "Will Control Your Documents for food or a roll of quarters for laundry - Thanks!"

As long as I don't end up in a diaper listening to bible verses, I'm okay.

Play by FoxSaver®

A Plea to my Friends

2009-02-17T13:22:00.000-08:00

In today's news:

TOLEDO, Ohio - A man held a woman captive in handcuffs and an adult diaper for three days while he read Bible passages to her, police said.
Troy Brisport, 34, was charged with kidnapping and felonious assault. Bail was set Tuesday at $400,000.
He picked up the woman Wednesday night in Detroit after she told him she had nowhere to stay, and brought her to his home in Toledo, about 55 miles (88 kilometers) away, police told The Toledo Blade newspaper.
The woman told police that after she fell asleep Brisport handcuffed her wrists and ankles, gagged her, undressed her and put her in an adult diaper, then read Bible passages, said police Capt. Ray Carroll.
She apparently was not sexually assaulted, Carroll said.
However, court documents alleged that Brisport tried several times to suffocate the woman using a pillow and blanket.

I sent the following plea to one of my friends, but I figure I better send it to everyone - consider it insurance:

If I end up homeless, please let me put up a tent in your backyard. I'll work for shower and laundry privileges, and I'll sit in my tent with my iPod on loud when you want your private time in the yard, I promise. I don't want to end up in a diaper listening to bad recitations from the Bible. Please.

{The text was changed to protect the names of the innocent.}

Marblemount - January 2009

2009-02-14T15:12:00.000-08:00

I recently went up north to help out some friends who were living on generator power and wood-burning stove for a week due to serious mudslides. I took some lovely photos; it was so quiet, with the main road blocked, there was almost no traffic. Only the sound of the occasional generator here and there. These are photos taken whilst driving (woo hoo!) or walking around on State Route 20 when there was almost no traffic.

Happy Valentine's Day!

2009-02-14T14:15:00.000-08:00

Happy Valentine's, folks!

First, flowers from a friend:

Gifted in advance of, and not because of, Valentine's Day - but still, lovely to have some roses here next to the futon. Lovely colors and scents to brighten up the weekend. And nice to have someone think of giving me flowers - thank you!

Next, a box of gifts from a knitting pal - our first anniversary, in fact. We had our first swap VDay last year, and had so much fun (and got on so well) that we've had quarterly swaps ever since. Chocolates, yarn, booze, and a book on lace knitting:

So I spent an hour cruising the internet for knitting patterns for my yarn...okay, more like 2 hours. That's why I recommend Valentine's Day swaps for knitters, single or no. And Gypsygirl, my swap mate, is appreciative of my unemployed status, so I didn't need to spend extravagant amounts on yarn or other goodies. Knowing that I'll be doing swaps during the year allows me to look for mark downs on yarns and books. And then there's the Daiso $1.50 store in downtown Seattle - that place absolutely rocks! Much, much better than American dollar stores, I actually find some useful, crafty things there - and non-crafty, too! See, the Japanese like their cheap stuff from China, too, but they still want quality and a pleasant aesthetic, so you get much nicer things there. And if you're willing to spend $5 you can get some super fun vintage Japanese tunes! Anyway, Gypsygirl still raves about the onion bag I gifted her with back around Halloween, all courtesy of the fine folks at Daiso!

There were many vintage valentines being sent around on Ravelry (don't bother even clicking the link unless you knit or crochet). Some of them had very interesting images, and got me pondering what message they would convey in the 21st century.

I really liked the following image:

But notice the shackle this poor fellow is wearing - an indication of a co-dependent relationship, at the least, if not some sort of serious top-bottom relationship (don't click unless you want TMI).

This must have been intended for the Lawrence Welk generation - lucky for you, I'm too lazy to link this to some really bad accordion music (which I've got in spades).

Here's one for the person concerned with global warming - or hot flashes - or some sort of hemorrhagic fever:

Do you know anyone who's into steroid use? This one's for you, A-Rod!

I hope this little girl got a raise in her allowance:

Mind you, I actually like the Post Office. They're far from perfect, admittedly, but if you've spent as much time arguing with UPS as I have, you'll understand why I like to go postal.

Anyone who has known me for very long knows I appreciate things piratey; and I'm not some poseur who thought they were cool only after Johnny Depp donned his eyeliner. I was a pirate for Halloween a year or two before the first movie came out. However, even I have to wonder exactly what message you're sending your sweetie when you've got a heart (theirs? yours? the last person you got in a bar fight with?) on your dagger.

"Arrrrgh, lassie, them wot don't dates me be the lucky ones," he seems to be saying. You know, I'm going to bet on the bar fight scenario - he's wearing a sword, so I bet he cut his enemy's heart out with his eating knife. What a little terror this laddie is!

For the next one, I'm just going to say "Lumberjack Song" and leave it at that.
Now, now, before you make that joke about Idaho, where men are men and sheep are scared, remember, I'm a knitter - I like wool - I like sheep only in a completely platonic sense. Okay, I do appreciate lamb when cooked nicely, and of course, there are some fine sheep cheeses out there - but they won't let you shear them if they think they'll end up in a curry when you're done.

You're on the Titanic. You're lucky enough to obtain a life preserver and hope like hell that the North Sea (or wherever the hell they were - no, I don't care, I'm not looking it up) doesn't freeze you to death before you're rescued. I'm pretty sure the word 'nice' wouldn't be how you'd describe your life preserver.

Hey, I like kitties. Nothing snide here, just a cute kitty.

In the 21st century, if you use the words "horn" and "butt" in a valentine, you know it's all about teh booty call.

The next one's for you, Noisy:

This last one is just weird. Is it the heart-ball? Is it the kid's big arse? He looks like he could be doing 'roids with A-Rod...I dunno, but it definitely bothers me.

Happy VD, everyone!

Jammie Cam

2009-01-18T15:04:00.000-08:00

It's been awhile since there's been a jammy cam posting, so here's today's jammy cam. The flowers are courtesy of this gentleman:

So don't be asking who the current hottie is in my life. If there is one, it's a state secret; if I tell you, I'll have to kill you. And no, it's not Dick Cheney; I am so tempted to make a really crude joke as to why that would be, but I'm going to take the high road.

Anyway, you might be asking where I got enough President Jackson action to purchase flowers. Let's just say a couple of friends were kind enough to contribute some small amount to my well-being. And flowers make me happy. Happy = mental health improvement = improved well-being. Hopefully, the flowers are edible, in case I run out of groceries ;-)

Soon I'll post some photos of the recent powerless week up in Marblemount. They've still got snow up there, and I am sooooooo jealous!

More Snow! More Snow!

2009-01-09T13:32:00.000-08:00

With all the flooding the last few days, I'm sure many have forgotten that we had more snow this past Sunday - quite a lot, even if it only lasted for just a few hours. I went out less than two hours after the snow had started falling in earnest and took more photos. When I returned, a friend had left a voice mail that started, "Hey, you must be out playing in the snow!" Indeed, I was - I even went to nearby playground.

More photos of the fencing and gates around my apartment building - I just love the way the snow collects in these spots!

Public transportation brought to a halt by the weather:

More seriously, this was less than two hours accumulation on the intersection closest to my home:

City trash receptacles looks much better with a layer of snow covering them:

The wind was blowing this very sticky snow, so it stuck in some very interesting places, like on the side of this light pole:

And the ubiquitous photos of snow-covered branches, of which here is one:

Cowen Park:

Another interesting place for the snow to stick:

It's no surprise that I don't know where I am half the time...

The park's sundial - it's no surprise I never know when I am, either:

My breath rarely looks this wonderful; in fact, under most conditions, seeing one's breath is a bad sign, not a good sign:

More fence action, folks:

Tired of branches? Try grapevines:

And in the following photo, I caught a snowflake in action:

I have no idea whether there was a nail sticking out, or just a wee splinter of wood, but again, the snow collected in some interesting places:

Dingy U district alleys look so much nicer in the snow.

Fortunately, I've had no chance to take photos of flooding - I consider that to be a good thing, especially since I live on the third floor of my building. Frankly, I'd think you'd prefer the snow to the closed highways and mudslides of the last few days.

Sincerely,
The Committee Who Would Like To Have Another Big Honkin' Snow Storm

Victorian Superhero

2009-01-01T12:25:00.000-08:00

Here's some very funny reading for your New Year's Day. I love Victorian Superhero !!

If I were a producer, I would put this series on television, without a doubt - if you've any suggestions for casting, please leave a comment!

Of course, I'm also hoping someday to see "The Raj" in print. I can't resist anything with curry!

Happy New Year's, everyone!

Robin Photos - of Questionable Quality

2008-12-22T11:57:00.001-08:00

I had spotted a red-breasted sapsucker on Saturday near Cowen Park; I went out yesterday with my camera on the slightest of chances that I might find him again. No sapsuckers, but robins were having great fun in someone's front yard. I tried to get some photos of them in action - nothing to write home about, but birds rarely care for one's reputation as a photographer.

There are two in flight in this photo - one flying right at me (lower right-hand corner of the photo):

Here's one taking a break from the fray:

A close-up from below (hey, I' really short - I can't help the weird angles I shoot from!):

Chirpy Holidays, kids!

Igloo!

2008-12-22T11:44:00.001-08:00

The great thing about living near a university when it snows is that students have initiative to do something more than wander around taking photos. Intrepid igloo builders at Cowen Park:

A couple of hours later, some progress:

And a couple of hours yet later:

It exceeded my paltry height by a foot or more when I last saw it at dusk yesterday!

Too Many Snow Pictures!

2008-12-22T10:55:00.000-08:00

We've had an incredible snowfall here in the Rain Belt; usually, we might get a little accumulation which dissipates within a day or two of making landfall. And I have to confess, I've been unable to stay indoors when the snow is actually coming down - I spent far too much time outdoors yesterday, wandering around in the snow, and taking photos like a madwoman. It's been decades since we've had such an impressive holiday season. So without further ado, let me post way too many photos of snow in Seattle.

The perfect house for a steampunk Xmas:

Snow globe:

A rock retaining wall for an ugly apartment complex becomes a vision of beauty in its winter coat:

Such fine, powdery snow found its way to the tiniest of places:

I loved these purple berries, with their snow hats on - don't worry, you're not seeing nearly as many berry photos as I took:

What could be look more like the holiday season than snow and ivy? Not much, folks. Here's something reminiscent of the Green Man, and on Solstice:

Snow collects in the coolest places - wrought iron gates, or within the frond of a fern:

Cowen Park - a gathering place for many happy folks anytime it snows up here:

Low-tech sled (an amazon.com box, according to the sled team). The wee laddie inside the box wasn't the least bit disturbed by the extremely temporary nature of his sleigh - he was having fun, and I really wanted a ride in the snow, too:

Gratuitous coffee shot:

If you can't wander around in the snow with your sexy guy, you can at least have a killer cuppa java - and so I did! Thanks, Herkimer on the Ave!

We're supposed to get more snow tonight - and I can't wait! I've got all my winter gear ready!

Holidays for the Unemployed

2008-12-13T16:29:00.000-08:00

Greetings, dear readers (all three of you!) – I deeply and sincerely apologize for neglecting my readership for so long. I have been writing – but not for my blog. However, I’ve gotten several chapters of my whaling novel completed, so I’ve not been wasting my time.

I’ve also been applying for jobs – not a very interesting topic, even for someone who needs one. I will say that setting up a resume on the job site for the federal government was as painful as you would expect it to be, and very counterintuitive in many ways. But going into detail about that would be no different from reading one of my tirades about Microsoft. I’m sure there are people who have written extensively about it, and much more eloquently to boot.

I have also been making Christmas gifts for my nearest and dearest. I realize the homemade bit is a little cheesy, much like an episode of the Waltons, but when you're totally strapped for cash, you have to think creatively. Many of you know that I’m a knitter; but I’ve taken up a new hobby (at the behest of a fortune cookie, no less). I have to give most of the credit to Harmsworth’s Household Encyclopedia – A Practical Guide to all Home Crafts written by the Leading Experts of the day and containing upwards of 15,000 Illustrations, Volume 6 (Pages 4481-5408, STR-Z). This volume includes an article on do-it-yourself taxidermy, so I’ve been collecting road kill and making unique gifts for the important people in my life.

Now I did try trapping a few animals – mostly from zoos, mind you – but I have to admit, it was a great deal of work. The taxidermy part is toil enough; you have no idea how difficult it was to haul a polar bear up two flights of stairs to my apartment.

Anyhow, here are some photos of my work – you lucky readers can try to guess which critter will be on your doorstep come Christmas morning.

The perfect cat! No clawing the furniture, licking its privates in front Aunt Mildred, and if you’ve family members with allergies, little Fluffy can be put away in the closet and forgotten until spring cleaning. What more could you want? You say you’re not a cat person? Well, look no further:

Fido here will never need walking, never soil the rug, never keep the neighbors awake with his incessant barking. Place him in your front window periodically – his bright-eyed hyper-aware stare will frighten off any would-be burglars.

Want to show off your hunting prowess without trekking into the woods for days at a time, drinking beer with acquaintances you never wanted to get to know this well, fighting off the paranoia that this might be the Deliverance moment of your life…? Well, if you’re the lucky recipient of this nifty little kitty, you can impress all your friends, men and ladies, with your bravery at facing off against this monstrosity. Grrr!

This next fellah I acquired at a zoo – no, don’t ask how. But if you think the kitty will impress folks with your hunting skills, check out this baby:

Yeah, I had to kipe an old pair of my mother’s dentures; but I thought I did an excellent job of making him look as if he’s about to speak. My first thought was that he could be saying, “Please pass me a beer.” But you can always tell your buddies that he was saying, “Can’t we all just get along?” right before you blasted him with your bear gun.

Raccoons are plentiful – but tough. I acquired a few scars wrestling with this little devil, but I think he looks super cute:

I like to call him Bitey.

This beauty I got from the UW’s primate lab after he had an unfortunate accident involving a metal fork and an electrical outlet. (Note to the safety folks at MDC Technologies – you may want to extend your training to cover such unexpected encounters.) He was called Ronnie – his cage neighbor was named Bonzo, you see. I think I’ve captured the dignity we associate with primates – when they’re not flinging crap at you.

Finally, I created something whimsical – crows and cats are readily available in the city, sad to say:

This is very reminiscent of Victorian taxidermy, the conflation of two creatures into one fantastical being. Rather like grafting Dick Cheney’s head onto George Bush’s body, but I think we must all agree that my winged kitty is much more pleasing to the eye.

Merry Thanksgivoween, everyone!

Why Wasn't I One of Those Chosen for That Mission?

2008-10-22T17:32:00.000-07:00

I'm sure that no one who reads my blog would consider me to be a McCain supporter, and indeed they would be correct in that assessment. It's not that I think Obama will be our Saviour, but McCain's got much bigger issues, even if it turns out Obama is as bad as Marion Barry (otherwise known as my favorite pie filling - I love being able to purchase a piece of the Mayor!). However, I don't wish to fill up bandwidth with lots of ponderous pontification on matters politick - I'm not nearly up to date on my readings to do it with any confidence, for one reason.

This does not prevent me from posting the more humorous offerings of this late political season - and believe me, there's plenty o' silliness to be had out there, passing itself off as discourse. For example, enjoy the following right-wing theory about the financial disaster being a left-wing conspiracy (no one mentions all the Republican supporters at the top of the corporate and banking chains who are still coming out of this with their several homes and apartments - yeah, they weren't diverted into taking out subprime loans)...sorry for the digression, here's the conspiracy theory as presented by the Right:

Why the crescendo of economic collapse right before the election? Why didn’t the media and congress act just as concerned some time ago or wait until sometime after the election to go into crisis mode? The timing of the current financial crisis seems too planned and calculating to be just a coincidence. Polls show that people’s number one concern right now is the economy and that for the most part, voters believe Democrats are somewhat more likely to help with the economy. Could it be that the liberal media and those in Congress, knowing that, is blaring the bad economic news from the rooftops in order to manipulate voters into voting for a Democrat? If so, it won’t be the first time.

Well, to answer that question, Barbara Ehrenreich presented the following on her blog:

October 21, 2008

Report from the Socialist International Conspiracy

Surely you have heard by now of the imminent socialist takeover of America, and if you find the prospect unlikely, ask yourself: How many socialists do you know who lost millions in the recent stock market crashes? Just as I thought—none—and that's not only because you don't know any socialists. The truth is that we, the Socialist International Conspiracy, not only saw this coming, we are the ones who made it happen.

The plan took shape during a particularly intense criticism/self-criticism session at our 2000 annual convention in a booth at an Akron IHOP. We realized that we'd been recruiting no more new members per year than the Green Bay Packers and that, despite all our efforts, more Americans have been taken aboard UFO's than have embraced the historic promise of socialism. So we decided to suspend our usual work of standing on street corners and hissing, "Hey, how'd you like to live in a workers' paradise?” Instead of building socialism, one worker at a time, we would focus on destroying capitalism, hedge fund by hedge fund.

First, we selected a cadre of crusty punks from the streets of Seattle, stripped off their Che t-shirts, suited them up in Armani's and wingtips, and introduced them to the concepts of derivatives and dental floss. Then we shipped them to Wall Street with firm instructions: Make as much money as you can, as fast as you can, and as soon as the money starts rolling in, send it out to make more money by whatever dodgy means you can find – subprime loans, credit default swaps, pyramid schemes – anything goes. And oh yes: Spend your own earnings in the most flamboyantly gross ways you can think of -- $10,000 martinis, fountains of champagne – so as to fan the flames of class resentment.

These brave comrades did far better than we could have imagined, quickly adapting to lives of excess and greed punctuated only by squash games at the Century Club. But we could not have inflicted such massive damage to capitalism if we hadn't also planted skilled agents in high places within the government and various quasi-governmental agencies. When all this is over, Phil Gramm, for example—the former senator and McCain economics advisor -- will be getting a Hero of Socialism award for his courageous battle against financial regulation. That's the only name I can name at this moment, but I will tell you this: If you happened to have been in a playground in the suburbs of DC any time in the last few years, and noticed an impeccably dressed elderly man poking around under rocks, that was a certain Federal Reserve Chairman, looking for his weekly orders from the central committee.

Things were going swimmingly until about a week ago, when the capitalists suddenly staged a counter-coup. We had thought that the nationalization of the banks would bring capitalism to its knees, but instead, the capitalists were craftily using it to privatize the government. Goldman Sachs, former home of Henry Paulson, has taken the lead, planting its agents so thickly about the erstwhile public sector as to earn the nickname "Government Sachs." Among the former Goldman Sachs operatives now running the country, in addition to Paulson, are the president's chief of staff, the chairman of the New York Fed, the man appointed to take over A.I.G., and the 35-year-old boy wonder selected to oversee the bail-out program.

According to the New York Times, "Goldman supporters" insist there is no "conspiracy" and not a black helicopter in sight – just a bunch of public-spirited investment bankers sacrificing their normal 8-figure salaries for the good of the nation. But we socialists know a conspiracy when we see one, and some in our ranks are complaining bitterly that as capitalism began to collapse, the bankers seized the life raft that was intended to save the laid-off, the foreclosed-upon, and the exploited masses in general.

Ah well, we socialists still have the election to look forward to. After months of studying the candidates' economic plans, we have determined that one of them, and only one, can be relied on to complete the destruction of capitalism. With high hopes and great confidence, the Socialist International Conspiracy endorses John McCain!

Nice to see that the Socialists are out there doing something besides scaring young college folk, but I was one of those crusty punks on the streets of Seattle in 1999 - why didn't I get a call up?

Bubbles!

2008-10-21T16:51:00.000-07:00

Paul Krugman linked to a wonderful piece in the Onion about America's urgent need for the next investment bubble - a piece I highly recommend reading. The article included a lovely graph which I'm reproducing here for your edification:

Personally, I'm hoping for Postmodernism. It's (mostly) all about nothin', as it's supporters maintain. (I'm not convinced of that, but that's another discussion.) Jacques Derrida futures - ha!

At any rate, the Onion piece reminded me of this long-ago favorite from www.satirewire.com - a site I considered to offer the best social/political satire. This is the site that gave us "The Axis of Just As Evil" (for those who believed it was from a Pythoner or some other famous comedian, nope - it was Andrew Marlatt). From 2002, folks - some people definitely saw the real estate disaster coming. Enjoy!

RECORD 75 MILLION AMERICANS NOW
PRETENDING THEY OWN THEIR OWN HOMES
Low Interest Rates Help Many Fulfill The American (Banker's) Dream

Minneapolis, Minn. (SatireWire.com) — Showing no ill effects from a weak economy, housing numbers released by the National Association of Realtors today showed that a record 75 million Americans are now participating in the mass self-delusion that they, and not their banks, actually own their homes.

"Home ownership is the fulfillment of the American (banking industry's) dream, and we are proud to announce that more Americans than ever have been able to (help lending institutions) achieve that dream," said NAR President Richard Schicter.

After putting 20 percent down on a $235,000 house yesterday morning, Minneapolis pediatric nurse Stephanie Doogan officially became the 75 millionth American to take part in the widely accepted fantasy.

"Ever since I was a little girl, I've wanted to (deceive myself into believing I could) be a homeowner," said Doogan, 35. "Well, look at me now! Me, little Stephanie Doogan, I actually have a place I can call 100 percent (minus 80 percent) my own!"

Across the country, other (people in denial concerning their status as) property owners expressed similar satisfaction.

"There's nothing like taking a walk around your (bank-owned) house, then going outside and kneeling down in your (bank-owned) lawn and grabbing a handful of (the bank's) dirt to make you realize how precious (their) land is," said 28-year-old Matt Jackson, who('s bank) bought a $210,000 home on New York's Long Island last year. "It makes me feel as though I really have something that no one can take away from me (unless I miss so much as one mortgage payment)."

Added Devon Knight, who recently thinks he purchased a condominium in Baltimore's Inner Harbor: "When I was renting an apartment, if the furnace went out, I had to get the landlord to fix it. But now, if the furnace goes out, I have to fix it!... hold on, I'm losing the illusion here... why is that good again?"

"Equity," said Jay Harrington, Knight's mortgage broker at First Union. "Just remember, you have equity. And next to the right of every single American (major corporation) to have a say in who gets elected, that's the most sacred thing you can (pretend you) have."

Copyright © 2001-2002, SatireWire.

Wheels!

2008-10-16T08:25:00.000-07:00

I've been a pretty slacking blogger recently - apologies, dear readers (all three of you). Since I'm not posting as regularly anymore, I'm going to add a subscription bit to the right-hand column; you'll be able to enter your email address, hit subscribe, and get the most recent post in your inbox. Woo hoo.

I've still been enjoying the financial meltdown - enjoy might not be the best word choice. It's rather like watching Godzilla rampage through the world economy instead of Tokyo. And I'm pretty sure most people outside of Japan would rather Godzilla were rampaging Tokyo. Soon enough my mutual fund will be worth so little that I won't be able to by a newspaper with it, even a weekday edition. It was a gift, though, so it's rather like free money - all I can end up with is nothing, which is what I had before it was given.

I do have an extremely simplistic question about the market. It seems to me that if everyone quits selling, the stocks will quit going down. Right? I realize that there are occasions where that strategy doesn't pay off in the end, for example, if you had stock in WaMu or Lehman Bros (were they actually a publicly traded company?). I do understand that not tanking the stock market won't resolve the bigger issues of banks holding paper that's losing value at a depressing rate, or the credit freeze that bollixed up commercial paper, etc. But if you've already lost 30-50% of your worth in stocks, why does rushing to sell the rest of it off seem like a good idea? If any of you send me an explanation I can understand, I'll post it.

Then there's the fun of playing the unemployment game. Quel surprise, I screwed up my application and had to call the Unemployment Insurance (UI) office. The woman on the other end was exceedingly helpful, and we got everything straightened out. In fact, I was able to report that fact to a friend of mine just yesterday...but I spoke too soon. I checked my mail and found that their system did not like something, so I have to complete some paperwork and send it in. Feh.

Speaking of fun, the Presidential/Vice Presidential debates are over. I must say, Barack Obama seems to have gotten his act down, and I mean that in the performative sense of the word. One of my friends and occasional readers compared McCain's performance in the previous debate as remniscent of Grampa Simpson, an analysis with which I agreed. Last night, he still reminded me of ol' Abe Simpson, and I fully expected John McCain to say, "I'll be deep in the cold, cold ground before I recognize Missouri," or some other such nonsense as we usually hear from Grampa. In fact, I had summarized the first three debates (Prez & VP) thusly:

See! Sarah Palin act like a Barbie Doll! Hear! Joe Biden try not to say something studip! Watch! John McCain wheeze his way around the stage, talking to all his friends! Enjoy! The immaculate hang of Barack Obama's silk suit!

I spent a couple of days with The Mater last week. The most exciting aspect of that was going to a book sale where, for $15, I brought home many more books than I should have been allowed to buy all year. Bad Viviana!

I spent Saturday evening in the company of a poet. Previous experiences with poets were less than inspiring, part of that due to the fact that they weren't very good poets, and thus were tedious companions. This poet, however, is exactly to my taste - no crappy love poems, no bad beat poet imitations, but his own voice and a love of words that I'm sure surpasses my own. So there was plenty of conversation, some reading of poetry...and single malt double wood 16 yr old Oban. Now, I have to admit, I'm just a wee bit fonder of the Lagavulin; it's the peat. I love the scent and taste of the peat smoke in such a smooth and delightful delivery system as the 16 yr old Lagavulin. However, were I stuck on a desert island for the rest of my life with 20 crates of 16 yr old double wood Oban, I wouldn't shed a tear for my lost Lagavulin. I've always enjoyed the 12 yr old Oban, but the 16 yr old was delightful, smooth as anything. So please let me recommend - Oban 16 yr old double matured (as it is officially named). Super tasty stuff.

And finally - wheels. I bought me some wheels. A Diamondback bicycle. She's a nice little bike; I had to get the shrimpy sized frame (14 or 15). And panniers, helmet, gloves, dayglo jacket. It's not the lightest frame in the world, and I think it will be a few weeks before I can safely lift her high enough to get her on a bus bike rack (don't want to destroy my back), but I'll have enormous biceps once I reach that point.

Tell me, did y'all think I'd bought meself a car? Huh? Huh? I'm unemployed. I can't afford a car. Honestly, I'm not sure I can afford anything more expensive than a pair of discount running shoes, but I bought a bicycle anyway.

My social calendar is a little full the next four days - damn, how'd I get so popular? Anyhoo, I'll update y'all early next week.

Data

2008-10-08T10:08:00.000-07:00

For those who like their information in graph form for quick and easy comprehension, here's an analysis of the current bailout plan:

Blogging in the Lap of Luxury

2008-10-08T07:51:00.001-07:00

Bwa-ha-ha-ha! While you peasants toil away, I'm luxuriating under my furs, snug and warm.

The astute reader may recognize the cloak-cum-throw from my Lucrezia Borgia halloween costume. Faux fur, but still warm and snug.

I've not been blogging so much lately - a lull in my external life has left me little of interest to blog about. My internal life is even less interesting to document than the external, so be glad of the relative silence.

The horrific soap opera that is the world economy has been keeping me entertained. Many cliched comparisons come to mind - train wreck, horror film, the Titanic, the Hindenburg - you get the idea, my friend*. The sinking/burning & crashing of the US economy was something I've been expecting (although, except for some canned beets, I can't claim to be prepared). I would love to say that I knew this was coming, sooner or later, because I have such a keen grasp on economics. If I said that, I'd be the worst sort of liar - a stupid one, because it would take almost no time to disprove such a claim. However, I read. I read authors whose analyses prove correct most, if not all, of the time.

Ted Rall is one of my favorites; I always enjoyed his writings, but when I read his "Generalissimo El Busho" (yes, that's the title of the book), I was astounded at the accuracy of his predictions of the first four years of life under Bush. Mike Whitney (not the cricket player) is one who has been commenting on the financial madness for a couple of years at least, and his articles often have pretty good explanations of how the system works and why something might be a bad idea. Paul Krugman, of course, has been firing shots across the bow of the Bush Administration for years; I recommend not only his op-ed pieces in the NYT, but also his blog, on which he provides nifty pdfs with extra information about economics and finance.

Noam Chomsky is of course the hardcore of current economic and political critique. His books from the 1980s and 1990s were dense, but again he is one whose observations and predictions on economics and politics have proven quite accurate; once you grasp them, it's not difficult to understand where things are going and why. I remember reading in one of his books over a decade ago the observation that the US was headed to a Brazilian model of society - a few superrich, and the rest of us living in ditches and fighting bears for the right to eat grubs. Paul Krugman recently showed how this has come to pass. If you ask me, that's some good predicting on Mr Chomsky's part.

So there, kids - if you want to understand how the world works, you can start with these fellows.

I spent the weekend attending writers workshops up in Edmonds. An exciting commute, to be sure. I enjoyed being downtown on Saturday for the big storm; at lunchtime I found a bench on a bluff that overlooked the ferry dock, and enjoyed the view more than I did my sandwich. I've said this to many people now, so please forgive me if you've heard this from me already, but it's depressing how many people are planning on writing bad thrillers. I heard more than one bad thriller plot over the weekend. Baaaaaad thriller plots. And mind you, my expectations of genre fiction are not all that high. It reminded me of working in LA, where everyone is working on a script. You hush out there - my script is nothing like theirs, it will be good! At least I don't talk about it, okay? Anyway, because of the workshops, I'm reading "Bleak House" now, rather than putting it off for six months like I originally planned. It's a thick book, and makes me wonder if it was the inspiration for the phrase, 'the dickens' - I'd hate to have to search through this massive tome looking for a word, phrase, character, event. Where in the Dickens is that passage where Ester meets her mother? Who in the Dickens is Lady Dedlock?

I must fix some sort of breakfast now - I've been up awhile, and I'm very hungry. Your homework assignment is to submit to me your bad thriller plots - I'll try to make something entertaining of them. 50 words or less, kids.

*I caught that phrase from John McCain, who sneezed it out 21 times, from the first count I could find; it's highly contagious. I hope to hear everyone addressing each other by that phrase at least once in each conversation, all parties saying it at some time or another. Just imagine how much livelier cocktail conversations could become!

Oh No!

2008-10-04T20:37:00.001-07:00

My friend Redburp sent me an email with the following headline:

Las Vegas Jury Convicts O.J. Simpson

and then asked the following question:

who will find Nicole's killer now????????????

Good question, Redburp, good question.

When I Read Things Like This, I Understand Why I'm Single

2008-10-02T09:21:00.000-07:00

(From today's Washington Post)

White married women are particularly likely to see Palin as in touch, as three-quarters said she understands their concerns. At the same time, a majority of such women do not think Palin has enough experience to be a good president. (White married women support the GOP ticket by a 20-point margin.)

Gag.

Stay Away From My Ferrari!

2008-09-29T17:14:00.000-07:00

If you live in an urban area, one of the indices of a declining economy is the increase in 'street people' (I put the phrase in quotes as people living/hanging on the streets may or may not be homeless). There is also often a decrease in the mental health of said group, particularly if they are homeless. Living in the U District, I have had ample opportunity to observe these folks over the years. I noticed this during the dotcom crash and shortly after 9/11.

In recent months a younger man with dreadlocks has been hanging out near a shortcut I use to access The Ave. We've been saying "hello" and nodding and such since April. His mood and state of mind have been quite consistent until the last week, when he apparently developed a serious case of paranoia. Serious enough that, when I walked past him today, he yelled at me to stay away from his Ferrari, a request to which I acquiesced easily. I'm pretty sure he doesn't have a Ferrari (although maybe that's where he sleeps), but what the heck. I said, "Sure, no problem." And he began to yell again, "You just stay away from it!"

"Understood!" I said as I was trying to make my escape.

"If you don't stay away from it, I'll have my military kick your ass, the military from my country. It will come here and kick your ass!"

"Yeah, no problem, you got it," I said with my most cooperative voice, hurrying to get away from him and vowing to never use my shortcut again.

And no, I did not call the police. They don't exactly patrol the U District religiously (in spite of what they might say), so even if they came and hauled the guy off, I'm sure he'd return. I don't care to risk calling and having him deduce that I was behind it (which would probably happen if the cops showed up on a call five minutes after he'd yelled at me). I have a friend who owns a nearby business who may do the dirty deed, but for now, I'm going to forgo my shortcut. And needless to say, if I see any Ferraris in the neighborhood, I will indeed steer clear of them, ten foot pole and the works.

In other news, the job offers are pouring in - if you consider being asked to be a test subject for a vaccination a job offer. Am I willing to risk my long-term health for short-term gain? You bet. If I get accepted, I'll get a minimum of $300. Since I bet none of my readers love me enough to give me $300 to keep me from being a human guinea pig, I'll risk turning into a 50 foot tall woman, or giant rabbit or reptilian creature of some sort.

To keep my readers apprised of each other's activities, I'm pleased to report that Goat Hostage's cunning plan to respond to the Prion News with vegetarian recipes was thwarted by the Cadbury chocolate recall. Yep, poison chocolate will take the fun out of a good taunt, rendering it very much a Pyrrhic victory. (For the full account, check the comments for "Not Enough Prion News In Your Life?".)

In final news, I understand that there have been payroll issues at MegaDyneCorp Technologies, the result being some folks receiving their compensation in the form of bushels of kohlrabi. Watch out, though - a kohlrabi much bigger than 5 cm in diameter can be woody. Hopefully the PeopleSuck software issues can be resolved and y'all will go back to being paid in wooden nickels.

Not Enough Prion News in Your Life?

2008-09-24T12:54:00.001-07:00

I've got some exciting Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy news stories to relate, thanks to Annie's Annals. I enjoyed checking out Annie's BSE update, and look forward to future ones. And no, it's not possible to know too much about TSEs - really, it's not.

In early August, The Guardian newspaper from the UK printed an article about a second wave of vCJD outbreaks due to BSE. I could rewrite what they say, but instead I'll just quote the good parts:

But scientists warn that the worst may not yet be over. 'We must not forget that almost every person in the UK was exposed to the agent that causes variant CJD,' said Professor John Collinge, head of the MRC's prion unit in London. 'It went through the entire food chain, not just in burgers but in cakes containing gelatins made from meat products. Even cosmetics contained beef-derived chemicals then.'
In fact, the extent to which people were brought into contact with a deadly human pathogen was unprecedented. Hence the insistence that while some relaxation of BSE monitoring was now acceptable, there should be no reduction in efforts to understand CJD. Certainly it is far too early to assume that Britain - the country most affected by BSE and vCJD - is in the clear, say researchers. They believe a second wave of cases will probably occur, based on studies of a closely related disease, kuru, which affected tribes in New Guinea.
Researchers have found that a key gene shapes the body's defences against kuru and this exists in two forms: version-m and version-v. These gene versions produce different responses to kuru. Individuals who have two m-versions (one from each parent) are the first to succumb to kuru, while those with one or two v-genes have a delayed onset.
Crucially, scientists have now found a similar picture among vCJD patients. Every victim to date has possessed two m-versions, a point stressed by Professor Chris Higgins, chair of the government's Spongiform Encephalopathy Advisory Committee (SEAC).

Hopefully current and future governments in the UK will continue to support research into the mechanisms behind BSE and vCJD - research that has proven useful not only for these two diseases, but also for Alzheimer's and Parkinson's.

Not to be outdone, the US is still in the previous century in terms of dealing with the potential of BSE to get into the population:

The USDA is proposing not letting downer cows into the food chain - wow! How radical is that?
The Bush Administration doesn't want beef companies to test 100% of their cattle, and went to court to stop them - of course that doesn't make any sense, unless they're afraid of what might happen if all cattle farmers started testing all their cows.... (I may have mentioned this one before, but it's stupid enough to mention twice.)
This article is less interesting to me for the BSE connexion than it is for the image of women bidding on vials of Danish sperm...the struggle to choose between the 30 different lewd comments running through my just ended with a decision not to post a one of them. Dear reader, you will have to come up with your own naughty comments. Feel free to send them to me.

Of course, when one is perusing articles, one notices links in the sidebar that pique one's curiosity. I noticed two in the process of reading up on my favorite disease. The first was Thermy (TM) Thermometer, a character developed by the FSIS division of the USDA. He tells you what temperatures your meat should be cooked to for it to be safe. Mind you, he neglects to tell you that prions pretty much cannot be destroyed by cooking (unless you like your roasts heated to about 800 degrees Fahrenheit). Thermy also mentions that the temperatures given are in degrees Fahrenheit, which means I'll have to throw out my Kelvin meat thermometer.

The second turned out to be a huge disappointment - I thought the headline read "Dad chases nude boy from daughter's room with pie". I mean, that's a great headline, right? Was I let down when I found out it was a pipe, not a pie, that was used to threaten the nekkid laddie. The one thing I found interesting was that this had been going on for a year before Pops caught them in the act. So kiddies, let this be a lesson to you - be ever vigilant. Don't become complacent regarding parental stupidity!

And finally, one of the most wrong things to cross my path in recent weeks, a photo sent to me by one of the chair-moisteners at MDC. The photo was sent in regard to not taking candy from strangers; however, when I look at where the handle is placed on this man's gumball machine outfit, I'm thinking candy ain't what I'm going to get for my nickel.

========================

ETA: I suppose one could use the Z-machine at Sandia National Laboratories to cook one's roast or steak to a temperature that would destroy all prions (2 billion kelvin), although I bet it would be a little tough to chew.

Image courtesy of Sandia National Laboratories

Well Said, Blue Llama!

2008-09-24T09:26:00.001-07:00

Blue Llama is one of my semi-regular readers and commentators, and left an excellent response to my "God's Away On Business" column, which I think worthy of sharing:

The song is an apt tune for our MDC. I hear a lot of "D*mn that last CEO" downstairs. People are reminiscing about the happy times of yesteryear and lamenting the instabilities of the future.

Well nothing is sacred at MDC. We knew that!

Yep - there's always free cheese in the corporate mousetrap - woo hoo!

Also, let me know if I should reset my Blogger settings to have the comments show up automatically, instead of youse guys having to click on them. It's not as if I get hundreds of comments, but I do get them, and some of them are enlightening.

God's Away on Business

2008-09-23T22:18:00.000-07:00

Having been laid off, I am immune to the ups and downs of workplace rumour mills - but I still like to hear them. Perhaps I enjoy hearing them even more now - I know longer have to worry how they will impact me. So in the last day or so I heard some big rumours about MegaDyneCorp Technologies which brought to mind this little ditty from the (sometimes) wonderful Tom Waits - but I have to confess, many big corporation rumours I've heard over the years bring this song to mind, and not just ones about MDC.

I'd sell your heart to the junkman baby
For a buck, for a buck
If you're looking for someone
To pull you out of that ditch
You're out of luck, you're out of luck
The ship is sinking
The ship is sinking
The ship is sinking
There's a leak, there's a leak,
In the boiler room
The poor, the lame, the blind
Who are the ones that we kept in charge?
Killers, thieves, and lawyers
God's away, God's away,
God's away on Business. Business.
God's away, God's away,
God's away on Business. Business.

Digging up the dead with
A shovel and a pick
It's a job, it's a job
Bloody moon rising with
A plague and a flood
Join the mob, join the mob
It's all over, it's all over, it's all over
There's a leak, there's a leak,
In the boiler room
The poor, the lame, the blind
Who are the ones that we kept in charge?
Killers, thieves, and lawyers
God's away, God's away, God's away
On Business. Business.
God's away, God's away,
On Business. Business.

Goddamn there's always such
A big temptation
To be good, To be good
There's always free cheddar in
A mousetrap, baby
It's a deal, it's a deal
God's away, God's away, God's away
On Business. Business.
God's away, God's away, God's away
On Business. Business.

I narrow my eyes like a coin slot baby,
Let her ring, let her ring
God's away, God's away,
God's away on Business.
Business...

With any luck, I won't be singing this song about the fine folks at the unemployment office ;-)

Sorry, I just can't help it!

2008-09-23T11:32:00.000-07:00

I try not to do too much political/economic/philosophical ranting here. The first reason is that I don't want to be going off like some half-assed moron, so if I were to start blogging on the p/e/p end of things, I'd need to spend much more time reading on these topics than I currently do. (That may change, of course, but not in the near future.) The second is that my readership, whilst not unenlightened, are not the hardened p/e/p junkies I've been known to be. So I don't want to bore y'all with every p/e/p observation I come across that has merit.

Having said that, I have to share a little quote with you, gentle reader, from a recent Ted Rall article on Sarah Palin. Ted Rall is many things to me - political cartoonist extraordinaire, brave traveller and lover of Central Asia, a man with an incredible grasp of history, a man who wrote the most accurate predictions regarding the actions of the Bush Administration of any pundit out there. I mean, these essays are scary accurate. So when Mr Rall writes something like the following, it gives me a stomachache of fear, dread - the kind I would get before a PPE Zone meeting. The kind that has me running for the plastic forks (Mubbs knows, don't you?).

Asked about rumors the Alaska governor was being considered as McCain's running mate, she told CNBC: "As for that VP talk all the time, I'll tell you, I still can't answer that question until somebody answers for me what is it exactly that the VP does every day? I'm used to being very productive and working real hard in an administration. We want to make sure that that VP slot would be a fruitful type of position, especially for Alaskans and for the things that we're trying to accomplish up here for the rest of the U.S., before I can even start addressing that question."

"Working real hard"? Doesn't the University of Idaho require its graduates to learn English? Does she know that she isn't running for VP of Alaska? Or that the VP presides over the Senate*? With the nation facing enormous economic, political and military challenges, do we need another numbnut in the White House?

Ted points out that intelligence and open-mindedness are the traits that seem to produce the best presidents. It seems that neither one of these is Sarah's strong suit and, in fact, I'd like to suggest that she's really and truly just another Dan Quayle, except her stupidity doesn't express itself in nearly as amusing forms as Dan's did. She's compared herself to a pit bull (not my words, don't get all hivey just because I'm quoting her), but I know I've seen smarter pit bulls than Sarah Palin.

*According to Al Gore, the Vice President's role is not only to preside over the Senate, but "... protect the space-time continuum. Read the Constitution."
-- from Futurama, Anthology of Interest 1

If Only It Were "Thus Sprach Zarathustra"!

2008-09-22T14:56:00.000-07:00

It should be no surprise to readers that my only complaint about this is the piece of music they selected (article from the Seattle Post-Intelligencer).

LANCASTER, Calif. -- Residents of northern Los Angeles County are not grooving to this music.

Lancaster city officials said this week that they're paving over a quarter-mile strip of asphalt grooved to play the William Tell Overture when auto tires speed over it.

The road was completed this month as part of an ad campaign for Honda. It's engineered to play the overture - also known as the theme to "The Lone Ranger" - at perfect pitch for motorists driving Honda Civics at 55 mph.

But neighbors aren't amused. One says the road music sounds like a high-pitched drone. Another says it keeps him and his wife up at night.

Lancaster officials plan to pave over the grooves Tuesday.

---

Information from: (Los Angeles) Daily News, http://www.dailynews.com

Will This Show up on the MegaDyneCorp Cafeteria Menu As Well?

2008-09-22T10:56:00.000-07:00

Mad Cow Disease at Next Clarkson University Science Cafe Wednesday
Clarkson University News (press release) - Potsdam,New York,USA

Certainly the title in the link doesn't really mean that some cafe at Clarkson University will be serving up Mad Cow Disease on Wednesday...right? Right? Maybe they are serving up one of my nightmare foods, the Oz omelette which features brains, hearts and kidneys. The only thing that would make lunch better is Vegetable Medley Jell-o salad - made with lime Jell-o, of course.

My Latest Slang Finding

2008-09-20T12:07:00.000-07:00

Thanks to the Comics Curmudgeon, this Geoduck grad is going to add 'bivalve' to her vocab to indicate calm, cool, mellow, chillin', etc.:

"Clam down" is going to be my new all-purpose reaction to people who sound like crazy men. If they are actually crazy, it'll freak the hell out of them. "CLAM DOWN, MAN! CLAM DOWN! OYSTER! CLAM CLAM! BIVALVE!"

From The Evergreen State College

The Geoduck Fight Song

words and music by Malcolm Stilson, 1971

Go, Geoducks go,
Through the mud and the sand,
let's go.
Siphon high, squirt it out,
swivel all about,
let it all hang out.

Go, Geoducks go,
Stretch your necks when the tide
is low
Siphon high, squirt it out,
swivel all about,
let it all hang out.

Saturn's Day

2008-09-20T09:56:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it - it's raining outside! Woo hoo! It seems like it's been months since we had rain here in the rain belt. I woke up quite early and thought I heard rain, but I've been fooled more than once with the sound of dirt softly blowing across the concrete being interpreted by my desperate brain as rainfall. I'd have gotten up at 5 AM (which is when I first awoke today) and stayed up if I'd known my precious rain had returned; instead, I crawled under the blankies and returned to the arms of Morpheus. It looks like rain again tomorrow morning - I'm very excited about that!

So yesterday, in the middle of blogging, Egon (MSG, to y'all) called me and asked for my help in choosing a birthday present for a mutual friend - her birthday celebration is today, and we are both attending. This worked well for me, as I was facing a long trek into Madison Valley today to fetch her gift, but instead, Egon kindly drove me down there - in icky Friday afternoon traffick, no less - so that I'd be spared the task today. I'm pleased that I was able to get my task completed. After our chores we went for dinner - more sushi. No sake for me last night, though. I'm looking forward to trying something tasty on the single malt menu at the place we're going tonight, so I thought I'd give Mr Liver a day off. Egon, however, had his first taste of Wakatake Onikoroshi and agreed that it was delightful and refreshing. We had the pleasure of running into a couple of friends of mine at the sushi bar, and thus had some delightful conversation to accompany the tasty fish.

My Freya day began under much more mundane auspices, though - I trotted up to Whole Foods for some dairy products (milk, yogurt, eggs - eggs count as dairy, yes? No?) and some fresh veggies. They also have these lovely bouquets of locally-grown organically-grown flowers, and the colors and textures were so gorgeous that I had to spend $10 of grocery funds on a bunch. My photo doesn't begin to do them justice (damned sun wouldn't get out of the way), but here goes:

As I said, the photos sort of sucks. But I've got them placed next to me here where I sit and type, so that I can enjoy them when I actually look away from the screen and around the room.

I lost a few hours on Thursday and Friday to the Comics Curmudgeon. Excepting Dilbert, Boondocks, and the occasional Non Sequitur, I have considered daily newspaper comics a form of soporific at best, a form of torture at worst. However, Mr Curmudgeon has shown me that, in the right hands, daily comics can be a source of great amusement. I read about three months of entries before the site went from being hysterically funny to mildly amusing. I recommend visiting Jeff Curmudgeon when things at work get so painful (or painfully boring) that you desperately need a good, snarky laugh to improve the mood. And now that I'm no longer at MDC, folks, I know that the snark level has definitely decreased. (In some regions of the building, the backstabbing level has gone up - I don't think CC could help with that unless you can disarm your disgruntled coworkers with naughty remarks about Mary Worth's private life.)

I do want to say that I was seriously saddened by the suicide of writer David Foster Wallace; a man of great insight (I won't waste verbiage on shallow speculations that perhaps he had too much insight), he was full of wise quotes such as this:

"...learning how to think really means learning how to exercise some control over how and what you think. It means being conscious and aware enough to choose what you pay attention to and to choose how you construct meaning from experience. Because if you cannot exercise this kind of choice in adult life, you will be totally hosed. "

We've few enough thinkers around these days, and I always mourn the loss of one of their number.

I came across another interesting passage in the course of researching one of my many novels. I'm reading a book of letters written during the British expedition up the Scheldt River in 1809 (who says life isn't exciting when one is unemployed - look what I'm doing? I'm reading about obscure, failed military expeditions of the early 19th century!). The author is an excellent writer, his prose clear, and his world view is very liberal (as we would say now - I've no idea what adjective would have been proper back in the day). Anyway, I came across the following passage, and was impressed - and saddened that such arguments have been made for two centuries now and still fall upon deaf ears ultimately.

Congreve is very busy with his rockets. I need not inform you that we are not very much prejudiced in favour of this new invention. I really think that they are scarcely fair weapons; and the principle, that of the introduction of more destructive instruments into the practice of war, should not be encouraged. They must necessarily become common; both parties are men on a level, and humanity only will be the sufferer. War, already destructive, becomes more cruel. Such is our military opinion of Colonel Congreve's rockets.

Plus ça change, plus c'est le meme-chose.

Miscellany

2008-09-19T13:09:00.000-07:00

Looking pretty good for a hungover chick!

I've not blogged since Sunday - bad Viviana! Bad, naughty Viviana! So today I catch up - again, after an evening of heavy imbibing. What does that say about my readership that I can only face them when I'm hungover?

In truth, though, I'm actually feeling quite well; I took a couple of aspirin last night before bed, and this morning consumed a hang over lozenge* whilst showering, so that when I finally left the house I was ready for my morning caffeine fix.

Why am I hungover? I went out last night with one of the mad scientists from MegaDyneCorp Technologies, Dr Moriarty, and his lovely wife Cleopatra. We started the evening at my favorite sushi bar, enjoying a lovely selection of premium sakes - Wakatake Onikoroshi (my favorite - if I could marry a sake, it would be this delightful beverage), Ichinokura, and Bishonen (f0rgive my mispellings if there are any). So yes, I had two boxes (masu?) of premium sake, and then we retired to the good evil doctor's home to sample some scotches.

A malt scotch (not single malt, but a mix of, say, three different single malts - different from blended scotch - don't ask me for the details, 'tis what The Google is for) with a name like "Extra Smoky Peaty" was the first sample. I do like the peaty, smokey single malts, particularly once the weather cools down. It'll warm ye up like nothing else in this world (except habaneros or being burned at the stake). I can't say I loved it, but it wasn't bad, and if you're feeling a little adventurous in the scotch department - and like it peaty - it's interesting to try it out and catch the differences in palate.

The next was some 12-yr-old Suntory (a Japanese single-malt). Not awful, but it reminded me of some Speyburn that I got talked into buying in my early days of scotch consumption. I ended up using the Speyburn for toddies (when your single malt ends up being used for a toddy, you know the owner dinna much care for it). I think the Suntory was better than that, but I wouldn't hurt myself to get a bottle of it - although the bottle itself was quite nice. I also had a taste of some sort of rice alcohol from China - gag! Rocket fuel! Yecch yecch yecch!

However, amends were made when I was given a glass of authentic absinthe, to be consumed in the 19th century style. It was rather like being in New Orleans, as we sat around and discussed Southerners and the importance of social hierarchy in the south.

Pardon me, readers - I ended up going on a shopping trip to get birthday gifts for a good friend, so I've totally lost my train of thought on this entry. I'll begin another one, and hopefully at some point relocate this particular stream of consciousness.

*Sweet Botanicals Hangover Drops are the latest and greatest cure for hell-on-earth hangovers. These delicious candies are made from real red fruit juices, bramble, lemon, orange, rose hips, and a smidgen of ginseng. {from a blog ad.}

A Bonney Sonday

2008-09-13T15:05:00.000-07:00

Ah am a body hung ower quinie.

I had a nice day yesterday, hanging with my BFF, discussing my brilliant future as writer and celebrity (and I'll nae be telling ye whither or no' I've me knickers on until you see the up-skirt photos fur yoorselves).

Ye will hae tae pardon my drifting into Scots dialect; not only have I been listening to Parcel of Rogues, but last night Ah enjoyed a leisurely steep in a hot tub by moonlight with about three shots of Lismore on the rocks. And I found the coolest English-to-Scots online translator, which has me mair excited than mah new Fluevogs!

However, you should add to the consumption of the Lismore a handful of Edradour Single Malt Whisky Fudge , a tasty treat fur sure!

An' finally, if ye huvnae hud enaw ay Scots dialect here, check out James Hogg's Jacobite Relics. Lang bide th' Scots separatist movement, as Rabbie Burns would hae said!

O, would, or I had seen the day
That Treason thus could sell us,
My auld grey head had lien in clay
Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace!
But pith and power, till my last hour
I'll mak this declaration :-
'We're bought and sold for English gold'--
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!

Old Home Day

2008-09-11T17:50:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers, all three of you, I went in today for my exit interview. It was a time of great sadness - seeing all my coworkers toiling away, dreading another pair of office moves and furniture refittings, laying bets on when Mega DyneCorp Technologies would fold up its tents and steal away in the night with the investors' dollars, worrying over continued deck chair rearrangings in the form of newly issued org charts...indeed, although I might be poor, unemployed, facing the frightening task of manipulating someone into hiring me, at least I don't have those fears haunting my dreams these days.

It was nice to see some of the old gang whom I hadn't seen in weeks (some I hadn't seen since the middle of July, on my last day). My faux hubby is still promising me my sausage alimony - and has yet to deliver. Now that I've no Mad Scientist to keep me in sausages, I'm really in need of my alimony. Heh heh, that reminds me, I need to check out the status of my roster for my Yahoo! Fantasy Football team, The Big Salamis, named after this fellow:

Brett Favre is my QB, which is pretty cool - even I know this, and I haven't payed attention to players in decades. I wonder how he'd feel about the team photo.

Well, I'd love to chat longer with y'all, but I've got to read up on TSEs - apparently they've managed to create a new species-jumping prion in a laboratory. As a long-time follower of BSE (Mad Cow Disease), I like to keep up on my prion news.

Speaking of mad cows, I had my first Mexican sandwich today - so I now get the Krusty the Clown joke in the Simspons movie:

Hey hey! It's your old pal Krusty for my new pork sandwich, the clogger! If you can find a greasier sandwich, you're in Mexico!

In spite of the joke, it was an interesting and yummy eating experience. I've become very interested in non-European versions of the sandwich - anyone who knows me well knows I love the Vietnamese sandwiches.

Now that I've gotten everyone craving meat, let's go read about brain-wasting spongiform diseases - woo hoo!

The Heartbreak of Large Hadron Colliders

2008-09-10T23:53:00.000-07:00

Or, It Ain't Me, Babe...

Well, dear readers, I have to confess to a shameful fact – I’ve been dumped. Yes, the mad scientist has decided to move on to greener pastures. And I have to admit to being rather down about it; I was enjoying our dates. I thought he was too, but apparently the LHC has more appeal than I do with my paltry beaker mug and broken Geiger counter. Yes, he told me that he cared for me, but that his first love would always be the Higgs boson. And let's face it, no matter how good I look in a low-cut sweater, my brand of magnetism pales in comparison to 1,232 dipole magnets and 392 quadrupole magnets.

What’s next, you say? Well, I wasn’t looking for a relationship of any kind when the mad scientist asked me out, so I suspect I’ll go back to not looking for a relationship. That’s what I get for letting myself be distracted from my whaling novel. I am glad I went with the steam-powered submarine suggested by one of my readers. Nuclear is nice – but my Geiger counter doesn ’t work, and nuclear will simply remind me of my failures in the dating scene. My erstwhile beau was interested in nuclear power, not steam engines.

Of course, perhaps my three loyal readers can help me compose a nerd-friendly write-up for some dating sites....Yes, I said nerds. I don't want to date men who are a too much of a challenge. When I want a serious challenge, I'll study Cantonese.

Beeting and Plumming

2008-09-06T10:49:00.000-07:00

My friend, her cat Drusilla, and yours truly enjoying morning coffee & email

Yes, more canning work accomplished this week. Two bloody days of scrubbing, boiling and peeling beets for canning. My friend wanted to do 25 pounds worth - we both agreed, never again. Our maximum is 15 pounds, folks. At least we've established a limit, which is good, and we've enough beets canned to keep the rebel alliance alive through the winter.

The plum jam - three batches, but I must say, it's really beautiful, lovely, gorgeous jam. Some lucky few might get a taste of it. The rest of you will be living lives of deprivation, not knowing what you're missing except for my effusive descriptions of jam and toast.

Right now I'm trying to convince my friend that I've earned breakfast; after all, I baked a batch of chocolate chips early today (around 7:30 AM), and feel that I've earned a fried egg and some toast with just a smidgen of homemade plum jam.

I must apologize for being gone so long; two days last week were spent with the mater, trying to find a refrigerator that would make her as happy as the one she got in 1964 - if you think tilting at windmills is a waste of time, I assure you, the hunt for the refrigerator like the one the mater had in 1964 is equally as futile and uses much more gasoline.

Sunday was spent helping Egon, my mad scientist friend, construct a small space for his next series of experiments. The actual lab work probably won't commence until sweater season starts. After all, one must wear the proper clothing for the task at hand. I did explain to him Washington Administrative Code for the use of PPE the other day; he stayed awake through the entire lecture, telling me that he truly is a nerd. However, since I have so much to say about PPE, SOPs, NIST-traceable weights and calibration records, it's just as well I'm spending time with someone who finds that information useful. Monday was spent delivering beets. 25 pounds of beets. I think it will be a couple of days before I want to have anything to do with beets again.

I've also been reading up quite a bit for my novels. Titles include: The Steam Engine, It's History & Mechanism, Crimes & Punishments, Reminiscences of My Military Life, and The Girls Own Book. One must be thoroughly grounded in the political, economic, technological and social activities of the era one writes about, otherwise one will sound like a complete wantwit. I'm enjoying my forays into previous centuries, and it's entirely possible that I won't even bother returning to the present.

I have to admit that I was excited last week when I saw the headlines, "Palin is McCain's Choice for VP" until I realized it was not Michael Palin. For some few brief seconds I was looking forward to a Vice President who would jump up and down and yell, "Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Help, help, I'm being repressed!" No such luck, sad to say.

That's okay - Ralph Wiggum may yet end up being my choice for president in the end. After all, he's been a good boy!

Un Chapeau Nouveau

2008-08-25T09:04:00.000-07:00

I received a box in the mail on Saturday. No surprise, as I had ordered a couple of books (including volumes 4 and 5 of Harmsworth's Household Encyclopedia - woo hoo!). However, when I finally opened the box it contained a brand spanking new Dead Guy hat. Apparently some kind soul out there read my entry and ordered me a new hat, without dust stains and the like adorning it - how cool is that?

So, mystery gifter, if you're in the mood to purchase me another present, I'd like a spinning wheel, an electronic yardage measurer, and a drum carder so I can make my own yarn. My apartment isn't quite full enough of yarn, and being unemployed I really can't afford to purchase more so I'd like to make my own.

Thank you.

Sincerely,
Ms Feral

While Working in the Laboratory Late One Night

2008-08-24T08:50:00.000-07:00

I received a comment on my photo of Dolores Fuller, who represents my idea of the successful lab assistant-type from such fine films as "Bride of the Monster"; the commenter said that they didn't think I could pull off a facial expression as dumb as Dolores, and suggested Bebe Daniels as a role model instead.

Now, don't get me wrong, I adore Bebe, she was in "42nd Street", a great musical. However, she never played a lab assistant. In my searches, though, I recalled a late, great actress with tons of horror movie cred who played a lab assistant - Fay Wray.

Fay was the woman for whom King Kong braved bullets and planes to try and keep her love (NB how that affair ended - that's why, much as I love Gojira, I would never try to date him; size does matter at a certain point, folks).

Fay also starred in a B movie entitled "The Vampire Bat", which also starred Melvyn Douglas as his urbane, witty, sexy self, and Lionel Atwill as his suave, charming, wicked self.

Fay, of course, is sweet and trusting, but no idiot, even in roles such as this. Lionel Atwill is a mad scientist of the less-than-nice variety, coercing a subordinate into killing villagers for their blood. Melvyn Douglas is the law enforcement official, as much as a village like that is going to have, and is in love with Fay Wray, who is Lionel's lab assistant. Here are a few screen captures from the film:

Left to right: Atwill, Wray, Douglas, all chatting it up like the best of friends. Notice she is wearing PPE in the form of a lab coat.

Here is Atwill menacing poor Fay after she finds out what a crazed loser he is.

Here's a nice composed shot - notice the shadow on the far left, the weird apparatus, and then Fay on the right hand side, elements that draw one's eye somewhere besides the center of the frame...oops, I sound like a film school student. My apologies.

The only problem I see with Fay is that she's a lot less, er, buxom than yours truly, whereas Dolores Fuller is not. So I think I will simply have to strive to bring a Fay Wray sensibility to my Dolores Fuller costume. That will require some work. Also, I'll have to find a Melvyn Douglas character to rescue me from the mad scientist, I guess. Although that might not be the worst thing in the world; after all, the women who stay with the mad scientist often end up dead, or a disembodied head in a baking pan, at the end of the film.

So if any of you know of any Melvyn Douglas-types out there, I'll be taking applications. Hey, a girl's gotta be prepared, just like a boy scout, you know.

Paris Hilton Update

2008-08-23T20:33:00.000-07:00

I know you all will be pleased to discover that Paris vows not to write a book until she reads one first, and that she has some sort of prison ant farm. I'm unclear as to whether she has an ant farm in prison, or if she's started a farm for the prison ants; I'm not going to click on the spam link to find out, either.

The Paris Hilton

Paris Hilton

2008-08-22T07:56:00.000-07:00

Today's jammie cam features me back at Chez Wilde, eating my beloved yogurt, checking email, doing a little yoga, and preparing for a day of making apricot jam. Yep, more canning, just in case the apocalypse comes sooner rather than later.

Checking my email includes quickly scanning my spam folder, and I see that Paris has been very busy this week. Below is the list of activities attributed to Ms Hilton:

Engaging in oral sex with the New England Patriots (I assume it's the football team, although I suspect poor Paul Revere would rather it were the original patriots);

Losing her vagina because of Dr Phil (I have no idea how that could happen; I expect some pathology journal will be having a huge write-up on this, because it must be a true rarity in the annals of medicine. I'm also curious as to how a second-rate psychologist could make it happen; I would think that major surgery would be involved);

Coming close to bankruptcy (the cost of vagina-removing surgery, perhaps? She should have asked the Patriots to help out with some cash);

Being asked to operate the LHC (the big ol' particle accelerator that potentially could produce micro black holes...who better to be involved, eh?);

I'll skip the one about her swallowing - it's probably related to the New England Patriots social event;

Oh, apparently the Patriots were not the only lovers she took this week, as she hooked up with some space aliens and is apparently having their love child;

And finally, she got caught not wearing any knickers (consider her sexual activities for the week, I'd be more surprised to find out she had any on).

So for those of you who think I'm having too much fun, my time since being off the job hasn't remotely compared to this, even whilst hanging out in the Bat Cave (I was watching Star Trek, after all). In fact, I've not gotten a single invite to the Large Hadron Collider events, something I'm mightily peeved about. Maybe I need to move up to a better class of Mad Scientist; although I think Egon has the potential to create a huge rift in the fabric of space and time, I'm not getting any younger. I want to achieve my goal of being a B-movie lab assistant - complete with angora sweater - before I end up needing a walker. I don't want my screams of terror to be mistaken for an attack of gout.

Below: Dolores Fuller from "Bride of the Monster" - I think I could get away with a similar look, don't you?

Unemployed Slacker

2008-08-21T09:16:00.000-07:00

Firstly, apologies to my readers for being so neglectful of their needs. I have indeed been rather busy this week. I'm still spending a fair amount of time at the Bat Cave - they liked my strawberry nut bread enough to let me continue stealing high-speed internet access from their super important processes. And I have indeed been doing that. There are still a few Star Trek episodes I want to see ;-)

Also on Tuesday I spent the day canning - pickled beets and pickled red cabbage. These are things, I realize, that are likely to only appeal to southerners, so it's okay with the author if you read this while making faces and going, "Eeeeew! Gross!" That will just leave more for the rest of us.

I also had writing group last night - the toughest editor in the group says my whaling novel is coming along swimmingly. Ha! Such a witty group. Later in the evening I was discussing the writing group with my Mad Scientist friend and explaining the other pieces reviewed. I said one of them was a memoir (about the writer's experiences as an alien abductee aboard a Vulcan space ship that got sucked into some time distortion and ended up in the mid-20th century), and explained the difference between a memoir and an autobiography. My friend suggested that I should write a memoir about my sister - something that, I must admit, had never occurred to me before.

However, it would be a fitting thing; after all, my love of letters, literature and writing have very much to do with her introducing me to books that held my interest and left me wanting more. The difficulty, of course, is writing about something so close to the heart - finding words to describe the decades of non-verbal communication that passed between us, for example, or even the simple task of trying to fully grasp the imprint one's sibling has left on one's life. A daunting task, a challenge to be sure, but I think I will take this one up.

Now, what would make such an endeavor perfect is if I can set it on an island populated by dinosaurs from a prehistoric theme park gone wrong....

Staying Fashionable

2008-08-18T15:33:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite sites, Vintage Stitch-o-rama, had a wonderful article on making your own Victorian hairpieces. I see a great opportunity here for unemployed yours truly - I can make old school hair extensions!

And what's better is that I found the entire volume from which these articles were taken on Google books. I could start my own industry. And no, I'm not going to tell you whether I'm collecting any of the hair I use from my bathtub drain - I refuse to give away any trade secrets. But I think I might want a finer mesh basket to go in the tub...and my friend's tubs...

Portrait of the Author - I wonder if he's wearing any homemade hairpieces?

TOS

2008-08-16T19:47:00.000-07:00

Here in the Bat Cave I get excellent internet access - faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Ooops, I'm mixing up my superheroes here. At any rate, one of the things I've been doing is knitting to Star Trek The Original Series. CBS has some episodes on their site from the first season HDTV remasters; I don't know that, for most folks, these HDTV episodes are that big of an improvement over the remasters of just a couple of years ago, but since I don't have any of these on dvd at home, I'm enjoying the access I'm getting in the Bat Cave.

Now I cannot honestly claim that Star Trek was the best thing to ever happen to television (Hello - The Simspons? Blackadder? I, Claudius?), but through constant association with die hard fans over the years, I've developed a comfortable relationship with the series. And it's not just the pleasure of listening to Shatner sing "Mr Tamborine Man" or Nimoy sing "Proud Mary" (although these are indeed highlights of late 20th cent. culture, don't get me wrong.).

For example, my sister collected all the pocket paperbacks with stories based on episodes, and in junior high school I read them through at least once. Some of them were very well written, and more than one story had an ending much more interesting than what was shown on tv. The episode where they visit the planet of the Greek gods, and the female crewmember was raped by Zeus, for example, has the young woman pregnant at the end of the printed version; but of course the tv show couldn't have someone getting pregnant by a deity, not in 1960-whatever.

However, my greatest pleasure are the episodes of the first season. The show had a real budget, and it was used to great effect. Nice sets, lots of colored gels on the lights, carefully posed shots, interesting camera angles - if you ignore those instances of overacting by Shatner and Kelley, the first season is complete eye candy. And the music was really nicely done, too - again, it's obvious that great care was taken to make it work, and work well. And don't get me started on the sound effects - wonderful things done by talented musicians and effects artists simply by using tape, reel-to-reel tape. I totally love the sound effects (and I've tormented more than one person with that love).

So for any of you who have a great connexion, I recommend going to the CBS site and looking for the HD Star Trek episodes, Season One. Watch "The Conscience of the King" with Kodos the Executioner (not to be confused with Kodos from the Simpsons); and don't worry about the plot and dialog. Look at how carefully the show was filmed, listen to how nice the music cues are - such visual imagination deserves to be noticed.

Please don't confuse me with Kodos the Executioner!

Mad Howls

2008-08-15T21:32:00.000-07:00

I just now had cause to try and explain why all my blogging refers to 'mad howls', and so I thought I'd share the reference with my dear readers, all four or five of them. It's part of a speech from Shakespeare's "The Life of King Henry V", Act III Scene iii. I have my bff to thank for this, since she made me watch the Kenneth Branagh film of the play 100 times or so.

Here's the passage whence comes the term:

If not, why, in a moment look to see
The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand
Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters;
Your fathers taken by the silver beards,
And their most reverend heads dash'd to the walls,
Your naked infants spitted upon pikes,
Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confused
Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry
At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen.

One of my few subtle literary references, folks - it's what allows me to pass for an intellectual from time to time ;-)

And yes, Henry sounds not quite so nice when you see the words in print, rather than having them delivered by a young and charming British actor.

Porkland

2008-08-15T20:05:00.000-07:00

Anyone who has talked to me for more than 15 minutes should know that I spent the most formative years – and some of the most traumatic – in Porkland, Washington, a small community southeast of Tacoma. I’ve tried to explain what Porkland is like to those unfamiliar with the place, but it’s really difficult to convey the reality. My parents became more disappointed and disillusioned with their community over the years, to the point that my mother and I now have a “Porkland is in the news again” watch in order to exchange news of the latest atrocity.

But before I begin listing said atrocities, let me give you a little census information about Porkland, courtesy of Wikipedia:

As of the census[1] of 2000, there were 24,053 people, 8,869 households, and 5,782 families residing in the CDP. The population density was 3,267.2 people per square mile (1,261.8/km²). There were 9,340 housing units at an average density of 1,268.7/sq mi (490.0/km²). The racial makeup of the CDP was 73.91% White, 8.07% African American, 1.04% Native American, 6.64% Asian, 1.81% Pacific Islander, 2.06% from other races, and 6.47% from two or more races. Hispanic or Latino of any race were 5.33% of the population.

There were 8,869 households out of which 32.6% had children under the age of 18 living with them, 45.8% were married couples living together, 14.1% had a female householder with no husband present, and 34.8% were non-families. 26.3% of all households were made up of individuals and 7.4% had someone living alone who was 65 years of age or older. The average household size was 2.55 and the average family size was 3.05.

In the CDP the population was spread out with 25.0% under the age of 18, 16.9% from 18 to 24, 28.3% from 25 to 44, 19.7% from 45 to 64, and 10.1% who were 65 years of age or older. The median age was 31 years. For every 100 females there were 94.2 males. For every 100 females age 18 and over, there were 90.8 males.

The median income for a household in the CDP was $39,653, and the median income for a family was $46,210. Males had a median income of $36,169 versus $27,036 for females. The per capita income for the CDP was $18,649. About 10.6% of families and 15.4% of the population were below the poverty line, including 18.7% of those under age 18 and 6.5% of those age 65 or over.

It’s not a large population, and I don’t think it qualifies as densely populated (not like my neighborhood in Seattle). But boy, it sure is a sick population. Let’s check out the news stories for this year:

August 10th: A 55-yr-old cancer patient, neglected for several days by his caretaker and his daughter, became puppy chow for his 27 dogs. This was discovered after the daughter dropped him off at the emergency room. Apparently a neighbor had been forced to help the man on previous occasions because of this neglect, and animal control had been called about the dogs a few months ago when a woman was attacked by one of them. I’m sure readers will be shocked to know that his prescription painkillers were missing.

July 29th: A 23-yr-old Porkland man phoned for help as the baby he was watching had apparently died in its crib – according to him, after falling several times and being crushed by a bookcase. Oh, he did shake her and squeeze her in an attempt to calm her after her calamities, and yeah, he did accidently whack her head against a wall, but, dude, that was totally an accident. The coroner came up with slightly different results – skull fractures and evidence of a ‘massive blow’ to the 1-yr-old’s abdomen. The police interrogated the bookcase and found no evidence that it had fallen over.

July 28th: A 40-yr-old man was beaten with a stick (or bat – the news stories are conflicting) and then shot inside his home. He was treated for non-life-threatening injuries. There was no reported reason for the assault.

May 31st: A church employee in the process of locking up the church was stabbed in the arm by a nutcase.

May 28th: Toddler was fatally beaten by mother’s loser boyfriend. He had a previous conviction for assaulting a child. The child’s father had continually complained to CPS about the treatment the child was receiving in his mother’s home, but to no avail.

May 7th: A 31-yr-old man was shot several times in a dispute with another man. The suspect was arrested shortly after the incident.

You know what, I’m going to stop now. I can’t go through another four months of Porkland drama; and I’ve left out the tragic house fires (they also happen several times a year) and drunk drivers and organized crime. If I went back to last July I’d have to include the serial-killer pedophile, and I really don’t want to write about him. Depressing, isn’t it. Admittedly there wasn’t this level of violence occurring when I lived there, but I have not been surprised at the evolution of the place from redneck nightmare to violent redneck nightmare.

So next time you hear of some horrific event in Piercing County, make a little bet with yourself as to whether it happened in Porkland or not.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to watch some Simpsons to get the taste of pork out of my mouth, if you will.

ETA: Goat Girl made an excellent observation in the comments section, although I disagree with how far her premise actually accounts for such a life as many live in Porkland. And I offer her my sincere condolences on her plum bushes.

To The Bat Cave, Boy Wonder!

2008-08-15T18:01:00.000-07:00

I reported yesterday that my Mad Scientist friend would be traveling about, conducting his deranged works wherever needed; however, before he departed he performed a deed of great kindness, arranging for me to hide out in the Bat Cave, since temperatures are in excess of 30 degrees C (don't know what that means in Fahrenheit? Shame on you!) today, and it's expected to be the same tomorrow.

I must say, the Bat Cave is much, um, differently appointed than one is led to believe from all the films and comix. First of all, it's located off a grotto - it ain't just some hole-in-the-ground:

Very nice indeed! But the actual work area is, well, unique in the annals of office decor, if you ask me:

I suppose it is what should be expected of a man who runs around in a rubber and vinyl suit and beats people up after dark - I'm surprised I haven't run into him on Capitol Hill on a weekend evening - but I'm being treated very well, plenty of food, no one is bothering me, and it's delightfully cool in here. Sooooooo nice and cool.

I hope all my readers (all four of you!) are staying out of the heat this weekend - ciao!

Down the Drain

2008-08-14T13:24:00.000-07:00

If I remember correctly, I previously referred to some plumbing issues I was having at home - my kitchen sink drain had slowed to a pre-global warming glacial pace, making the washing of dishes extremely challenging. Well, yesterday the landlord came over with some high level chemical warfare to use on the pipes, along with an exorcist to cast out any demons who might have taken up residence in or near the clog. It took eight hours for the chemicals to work, and eight hours for the exorcist to complete his ritual. Mind you, this is in a studio apartment the size of two MegaDyneCorp Technologies cubicles. I don't know if you've ever spent 8 hours trapped with a ritual-crazed priest under such conditions, but let me tell you, an iPod is an essential piece of technology at such times.

In the end, though, after all the incense cleared and hot water was run through the pipes, I was able to wash my dishes in the normal fashion.

And so that my former coworkers know that someone in my life is still giving me a difficult time, I told one of my friends that my plumbing horrors had been eliminated, and she asked if I'd been washing my dishes while I showered. I replied no, and she then suggested that I could have washed them while bathing. Ah yes, that would have been nice, taking a lovely soak with a good book, only to notice waterlogged chunks of pasta and tomato floating past...

My week has not been all that exciting - much catching up around the house after the very busy week I had last week. Egon the Mad Scientist will be gone for the next week or two - I'm not clear exactly what he'll be doing while he's gone. After all, just because I assisted with his manifesto doesn't mean I'm privy to all his secrets. Perhaps he's meeting with a foreign government to aid them in increasing their power in the global economy. Or he could be assisting some other deranged researcher with their own secret projects. Maybe he's scored a stint as a technical adviser with some show on the SciFi channel. Then again, maybe he's going to be a contestant on "The Wheel of Fortune." If the Fates were to smile upon me, he'd be going somewhere to invent a self-cleaning kitchen drain, but that seems unlikely.

So today I'm hiding in the library, cooling off (they really could crank the a/c just a bit more - I think the books are sweating). Soon I'll be moving to the fourth floor, my favorite hideout. Time to get back into the serious writing groove - 19th century whaling novels set on steam powered submarines just don't write themselves, after all.

Another Monday

2008-08-11T08:26:00.000-07:00

Here 'tis, Monday again. My weekend was jam-packedwith activities. The wedding on Friday was quite lovely - by far the most thoughtfully worded ceremony I've ever attended. It was a great event, and if anyone mistook me for a failed scientific experiment, I was unaware of it. So yes, I spent Friday afternoon brushing up on raccoon chatter for no good reason.

I danced until I had blisters on my feet (that would be something like three or four dances, I believe). Egon the Mad Scientist is quite the terpsichorean and dances one mean quadrille. Louis Quinze has nothing on him, I tells ya!

The wedding was also an opportunity to chat with another geoduck who actually attended Geoduck U the same time I did; we fairly trashed a couple of faculty in the course of a 20 minute conversation, always a bonding experience for alumni.

Saturday I had a bbq to attend, so I assisted in the creation of a blueberry cheesecake (bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha! no tasty cheesecake for you, dear readers, bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!). It was indeed a tasty cheesecake, with a magnificent, decadent crust. Mmm...cheesecake. I found a kindred spirit who also loved the tv series "UFO" as well as the Simpsons' parody of George Lucas's Phantom Menace (or Phantom Script, as I call it - sorry, Star Wars fans, I'm too old and cranky to be able to love any ol' thing with the Star Wars name attached).

My Sunday was co-opted by the Mad Scientist - he actually wanted my assistance in writing his first Manifesto! I was more than thrilled; I have a soft spot for manifesti of all types, and was interested to see his specific ideas for achieving world dominance, and what he would do with it once the goal was attained. No, no, don't ask me for details - I've been sworn to secrecy. I will say I was disappointed to notice a lack of plans for killer robots or the creation of a Godzilla-like creature, but I will work on trying to get those included. Stay tuned for updates.

We relaxed to some lovely episodes of Red Dwarf Season Six - Gunman of the Apocalypse is probably one of the finest episodes of the series, and always a great one to share with a friend.

Earlier in the week I attended my (former) department's picnic event. It was also a chance to say good-bye to some of the folks from the group that was sold off to Globex Corporation. We losers, er, former coworkers were given photo ops with the headlines in the paper that very day announcing that MegaDyneCorp Technologies was laying off a whole bunch of people.

It was nice to be there, hanging with the crowd, and watching the few brave and competitive spirits vying for prizes. I also negotiated alimony with my faux hubby - my alimony will be in the form of sausage. Yes, one day I'm expecting home-made chorizo for my dining pleasure.

Thursday, hmmm, I hung out with my bff and her son, a young man of 25, a youth with whom I spent many hours playing nintendo, exposing him to punk rock, and encouraging him to...alright, alright, I totally helped warp this kid's mind. I admit it. He still managed to get into the Air Force in spite of my corrupting influence - I'm sure he simply omitted mention of the fact that he knows me. It was fun chatting and I received a couple of cans of Japanese coffee to bring home; it's not bad iced, I must say. Japan and their vending machines.

Well, I apologize for this not being a better conceived post, but I mostly wanted to catch up my vast legions of admirers on my recent activities. I'm sure I'll return to a verbose and redundant state in short order.

Pedicure

2008-08-08T11:12:00.000-07:00

I had my first spa-pedi today...and possibly my last, of course, as I am unemployed. I must say, it was a lovely, bone-melting experience, and I highly recommend it to anyone in need of pampering and relaxation. And now I have lovely vermilion toe nails.

All this is being done in honor of my friend's weeding this evening. I'm pretty much fine looking like an unemployed hippie bum these days, but not for an event that's cocktail attire. The Mad Scientist, attending a second wedding within one month, said he thought appropriate wedding attire should be au naturel. Frankly, I like the idea; not that I'm dying for the world to see me sans clothing, but if you show up to a wedding like that in a bath towel you're overdressed. Things don't get any simpler than nekkid.

I hope that doesn't make me sound churlish about dressing up for a very special event (and one that I'm very, very pleased to see taking place). Mostly I'm paranoid about looking like crap. I did at least seek the Nordstrom salesperson's assistance - and I have her card, so if I get laughed at, I'll be coming after her. She assured me of the following: I did not look fat in the dress, it was not too tight, there was not too much of me showing, yes my black lace bra straps would look fine underneath the sheer part of the dress, yes I really should skip hose and go with my bare legs, yes even with the bruises on them, yes my legs look fine in the dress, no I don't need a jacket or cape to cover up everything that people can actually see, yes she was sure I looked fine. Soooooo, we'll see. If there aren't any photographs of me, you'll know the photographer didn't think I was worth wasting film on.

If I were going solo I'd be a little less concerned, but I am going in the company of my Mad Scientist friend and I don't want to look like one of his failed experiments. No one wants to be the subject of this conversation:

"Hey, Egon, is this that half human/half racoon experiment you were talking about? I must say, even if it is a bit unsightly, it does have nice manners."

I must be too relaxed from the spa-pedi because I'm finding my own blog too funny...

So in 45 minutes or so I take my serious shower, wash my hair and make a feeble attempt to style it (when you actually plan for your attempt to be feeble it generally is), start working on the make-up, and rubbing nice lotion on all the parts the salesperson told me not to cover up. I'm so tempted to just wear an abayah. I did at least pick up a pashmina, so I can cover quite a bit if needed. I can just wrap myself up in it and hide in a corner like some sort of ninja-mummy...OMG, I think I just invented a new film genre! No wait, the mummy film that just came out has Jet Li. Damn! Oh, of course everything I'm wearing is black. That's why I'd look like a ninja mummy as opposed to a regular mummy.

I've been very busy this week - and I think I'm going to busy this weekend, but I'll do my best to catch everyone up as soon as I can.

For now, I've got to brush up on my racoon chatter, just in case I really am the subject of that conversation.

Somebody's Got a Case of the Mondays

2008-08-04T10:16:00.001-07:00

But not me, dear readers! No, I had a lovely weekend. Oh yes, I caught everyone up through yesterday morning...no housework yesterday, nor yoga. Instead, I received a call from my Mad Scientist friend sometime after the noon hour proposing a few hours helping him with some experiment he was conducting and then a lovely dinner afterward. What can I say, I've spent too many years in an R&D environment to pass up the opportunity to play lab assistant, like in some 1950's B-grade horror film. It was too warm for me to wear a tight sweater, though, which is sad. Female lab assistants always look better in a sweater, particularly one that shows off their, er, charms. For my labors I was rewarded with sushi at my favorite sushi eatery, Hana on Capitol Hill. Yoshi did his usual excellent job in making me a very happy woman in the sushi department. {And no, you naughty people out there, the experimentation did not include any behaviour inappropriate to a Victorian drawing room, except for the occasional double entendre.}

Oh, I accidentally trashed my new hat, acquired Saturday, by mistaking it for my old hat in the frantic search for my PPE yesterday. That's what I get for my hubristic photographic display. Now the new hat has become the old hat, and the old hat is no longer with me. It's a good thing that I'm comfortable with my own studipity.

I did tell Mad Sci Guy that I scored a faux-spouse for the wake on Saturday - full disclosure, blah blah blah. He was impressed that I managed to acquire one for a few hours, and even more impressed that fake-hubby was wearing a kilt. In fact, my friend is threatening to get a utilikilt of his own; Ms Feral will let you know if that does indeed come to pass. More kilts, more happy girls and guys in the world.

This is going to be a brief post - I've got a noon appointment, and I'm still unshowered - but I have to clarify something. Rabbit in Red accused me of being a McCain supporter because I was critical of Obama; I'd rather be stabbed with a handful of forks than have John McCain as president (sorry, Republicans, that be the truth of the matter). I hope that doesn't mean I have to be completely uncritical of Obama. He can tie - or attempt to tie - drilling to whatever alternative energies he likes, but history indicates what happens when one begins to go down these slippery slopes, no matter how good the intentions. I've had enough disasters in my life, personal and societal, to know that 99.99999999999% of the time, you still end up on your ass at the bottom of your slippery slope, covered in muck, hopefully mostly mud but sometimes less appealing substances instead. My stance on hoping for change remains unaltered. Quarters, please, for the laundry machines.

Eeeew! Spiders!

2008-08-03T10:51:00.001-07:00

This morning when I opened my front door an icky spider had constructed his home completely across my doorway. The nerve! Never fear - I dug into my arsenal of nano-nuclear weaponry to find one of my anti-spider missiles and handily dispatched him to spider Valhalla (and I really don't want to know what goes on in spider Valhalla, thank you).

I've been away from the tubes of the interwebz for a few days (for those not in the know, esteemed Alaska Senator Ted Stevens conceives of the internet as a series of tubes; the only thing appealing about that image is a recurring fantasy of Robert DeNiro a la "Brazil" busting into my apartment to repair my internet connection as well as my ducts...). I'll start with Wednesday evening.

I finally presented something for my reading group to peruse. They said I was redundant and verbose. Me? Redundant and verbose? Redundant and verbose? Me? Really? Redundant? Verbose? Hmm. Redundant and verbose. Maybe a little verbose. Redundant? Never. I'm not the least bit redundant. They did have a couple of nice things to say about my writing voice, and catching a nice 18th tone in my narrative. But redundant? I'm not the least bit redundant. Not at all. Maybe a little verbose.

However, as with any good spanking, inspiration was nonetheless derived, making me want to spend the next month in the stacks at Suzzallo, researching steam-powered submarines and whaling with a vengeance...but I've still got other things to attend to. Housework. Bills. Finding out when I can start collecting unemployment.

Thursday, on the way to the mater's house I stopped in at work. It was rather like a high school reunion - it was great to see everyone, and it took me forever to get in and out. I told them my tales of woe on being unemployed - sleeping in until 7:30, lying in bed for an hour or so to contemplate my day's activities, thinking about my blog entry, looking out the window and contemplating the universe...they didn't have much sympathy for my plight.

Thursday and Friday were mostly spent in pursuit of maternal errands and quests - life just doesn't get more enthralling than standing in line at Costco, I tells ya. I did get a copy of "Dr Strangelove" for my troubles, and expect to amuse myself with it sometime today. Woo hoo!

Yesterday was the memorial service for a recently deceased coworker. A very nice and proper memorial service was held in his honor yesterday afternoon...however, said service didn't really represent the entertainingly subversive coworker we all knew well. I mean, where was the vermin? So after the service and meet-and-greet reception that followed, the less reputable of us retired to the Rogue brewery in Issaquah to drink a toast to our departed friend with a pint (or several) of Dead Guy Ale . DG, our departed friend, was an award-winning home brewer, and Dead Guy was one of his favorite beverages.

I downed half a pint (I like the stuff, but beer is too many calories for too little bang), and then moved on to Maker's Mark, a move DG would have thoroughly approved of. My kilt-wearing friend JB was my escort and fake husband for the event (his wife was out of town, camping with their kids, so I was the wife-for-a-day and he was my fake husband); we were everything prim and proper, except for the conversation around the Kobe Beef Bleu Balls they served there...and no, I'm not going to enlighten those who were not in attendance. Some things can only be fully appreciated in their immediate context. I reported to JB that a woman in the restaurant sporting a Dead Kennedys hoodie (she probably wasn't even born the first time I saw them live) was definitely checking out my faux-hubby in his kilt; I did tell my readership that he looks really cute in it. It's all in the attitude, lads, just in case you're wondering how he gets away with it.

Ah, y'all are wondering what my Mad Scientist friend might have to say on the subject of me acquiring a faux spouse for a few hours? Well, I was unmarried when we chatted yesterday at about 4:30 PM, and I was single again about 5 hours later, so I don't know that there's much he can make of it. Maybe it will inspire him to consider donning a kilt, though. There's definitely a lack of kilt-wearing men in this town, and I'd love to see more of them.

My day today? Hmmmm, yogurt (I've only had coffee today), shower, put laundry away, put groceries away, vacuum, yoga, maybe Dr Strangelove. Never a dull moment at Chez Wilde.

All caught up on my exciting life now, so let me leave my readers better informed about their world than when they started reading this post.

In case you haven't been paying attention, Obama says he will support limited off-shore drilling to ease gas prices. Yep, that will solve all our energy problems; we should concentrate on that instead of long-term solutions to energy production, consumption, and just living more sustainably. The only change I dare hope for is quarters for the laundry machines in my apartment building, sad to say.

More importantly, and much closer to my heart, is a new ISO standard for the proper cooking of pasta - woo hoo! For those who cannot wait, however, here is a submission from the Annals of Improbable Research for the proper cooking of pasta:

2008-07-10 Piero's Preliminary Pasta Procedure

Hunger for the standard, and hunger in itself, demand at least one recipe. Here, from Italy, is a pert, 46-word specification from Italian chemist and rock star and LFHCfS 2002/3 Man of the Year Piero Paraidino:

"To 3 L of already boiling water containing 2 tablespoons of NaCl add 250 g of raw Italian pasta. Boil the mixture for 9 minutes, then recover the solid by filtration. Add 20 cl of extravirgin olive oil and a previously warmed dressing of your choice."

The Annals of Improbable Research is one of those sites on which it is very easy for me to lose hours of my life; I hope to lose a couple of hours there next time I'm on campus stealing wifi from my Alma Mater.

That's it for today; hopefully tomorrow or Tuesday will find me inspired to new heights of verbosity and redundancy!

Out of Office Message

2008-07-30T23:30:00.000-07:00

Well, I don't actually have an office. But I'm going to be offline for a couple of days. I'll be checking email, but don't expect any posts. I'll be back in a few days, and I'll update my readers on all my exciting adventures!

Bwa-ha-ha-ha! Victory is Mine!

2008-07-29T12:07:00.000-07:00

One of my readers requested a new jammie cam photo of me; well, I've been up several hours so it will be housecleaning-attire cam today.

So, for a brief update of my doings:

Saturday, I did indeed spend a few hours at the evil genius/mad scientist symposium; fascinating stuff, what these men and women are doing. I won't give specifics, I'll just say that plans for world domination are proceeding apace. Several women from the community were participating in the evening's prenuptial celebrations, so we ventured from the abandoned missile silo in North Dakota to Jazz Alley and enjoyed a wonderful performance from the ever-delightful Eartha Kitt. 81 years old, and she still belts them out like there's no tomorrow, and still really does enjoy her audience.

Sunday - more cleaning of the kitchen, and then an informal dinner at the mad scientist's place. I'm sure some of my readers think that this has settled into some semi-permanent relationship, but that would be a mistaken impression. We're still discussing methods and SOPs, and it has yet to be determined whether conditions are right for the experiment to be conducted. {I think I spent too many years in ISO documentation.} So I'm not holding out on my readership; we had dinner, we talked, we watched some 'Futurama' (totally my fault), we talked more, we separated for the evening. Yes, I enjoyed myself immensely.

Yesterday - more cleaning, only to discover that the drain in my kitchen sink slowed to nothing. I had suspected yesterday was going to be a bit crappy when, early on, I had the Great Toothpick Disaster of July 2008. See, the Japanese make really cool toothpicks. I'm sure some forests are devastated so that these toothpicks might be made, but since I only buy toothpicks every few years, I don't feel as if I'm a major contributor to the problem (these were purchased in 2003). However, the little flimsy soft plastic holder they come in fell off the cabinet shelf yesterday, and the toothpicks took the opportunity to escape their imprisonment in hopes of achieving freedom. Fortunately, my counter was newly cleaned, so they simply got swept into a plastic cup.

The kitchen sink problem was the next disaster on the schedule. I plunged and plunged and plunged; I resorted to my emergency chemical supply; I plunged and plunged and plunged. All to no avail. So I thought I'd better take the trap off. I've never done that, and although it looked simple, I thought I'd better call someone whom I knew would be able to provide salient information. Yes, I called my mad scientist friend. He offered to come over and wrestle with the problem. I was reluctant - plumbing help is an ugly thing to ask of someone - but agreed. The trap was clean. Next it was snake time. After a fair amount of time wrestling with the snake, plunging was again resorted to. No progress was made, though - time to admit defeat, despite the valiant effort.

We repaired to Malabar, a very good Indian restaurant in my neighborhood (very good for Seattle, at any rate), to recover from our defeat, and the tasty curries did indeed improve our moods. Having commandeered a large part of his evening, I sent him on his way. Since the repair people hired by the apartment management are like bulls in a china shop, I'm waiting until next week to seek their assistance on the pipes. I can make do until then.

At this point, I'm sure you're wondering to what victory I refer? Mamluk Sultan Baibar's at the Battle of Antioch, perhaps? No, no. We're talking yogurt. Oh yeah, baby, yogurt. The shelf was fully stocked this morning; the 4 for $3 special was still in effect. I took home every carton of vanilla on the shelf, all twelve of them. Twelve cartons of my beloved vanilla. MINE! ALL MINE!!! BWA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Saturday

2008-07-26T09:20:00.000-07:00

Clever title, eh? Ms Wilde is never at a loss for clever titles, pithy remarks, or astute observations. (What's even better is that I didn't spell it correctly the first time I posted it - duuuuuh.)

In providing my link to the Wikipedia definition of 'steampunk' the other day, I rediscovered a world I hadn't visited in three years or so (in 2005 I wrote a little steampunk vampire adventure for a friend of mine's entertainment). I found so many wonderful things. One of the coolest is SteamPunk magazine's "A SteamPunk's Guide to the Apocalypse", a wonderful book on how to live after we run out of oil and civilisation collapses. Certainly not something that most of my readers will appreciate, but I have spent my morning reading it. After all, I'm unemployed; I may yet end up living out of a 40' shipping container, probably sharing the yard with the amorous goats. And those goats better not get any ideas about me - I stick to my own species, or alien species that can easily pass for human (I had to add that; I swear, some of the men who've asked me out were indeed from other planets).

Speaking of men I've dated, I haven't really sussed out the mad scientist's attitude toward steampunk; I suspect that if I can successfully blend it with Star Trek, I just might have a chance. He still hasn't passed the Geiger counter test yet...I suspect I've been quite lazy about capitalizing the word Geiger. Yeah, well, whaddaya gonna do, as Homer Simpson would say.

Mad Sci Guy and I did not meet up for the symposium last night, but we're scheduled to rendezvous at noon to spend the afternoon there. To be honest, I'm not sure I'm up to matching wits and skills with the evil genius/mad scientist set, although I did promise a friend that if he ever got an advanced degree in biochemistry, I'd get one in bioengineering or some such thing so that we could create our own Gojira (Godzilla, to you unbelievers)...but neither one of us ever acquired those degrees. So I might be full of bright, if mad, ideas and brilliant observations, but I'm not at all sure I'm up to actually participating. I'm a huge coward, if you must know. Some days I wonder how I ever make it to the mailbox. Oh, I hear lots of laughter out there - not caring is not the same as being brave, my dears. Regardless, you'll be regaled with tales of my humiliations on the morrow, to be sure.

And this evening a few of us girls are going out to celebrate a friend's upcoming nuptials; we're going to start the evening by catching an Eartha Kitt performance. Man, I don't know how she does it, all the touring - she must just love performing!

Bibliophile

2008-07-24T15:31:00.000-07:00

I spent yesterday afternoon hanging out in Suzzallo Library on the UW campus. Being a lifetime member of the Alumni Association, I have access to the UW Net setup so I can go to campus and steal wifi internet access. Free wifi is one of my great pleasures in life; being unemployed, I can't exactly afford $100 plus a month for phone, cable, wifi, robotic monkeys, etc. The nice thing about the U district is plenty of wifi. I do miss being able to steal it from the comfort of my own apartment, but still, I don't have to travel very far to enjoy it.

Most of my time there was passed in the stacks where the oldest, mustiest, weirdest books are. It's like a tomb there, and I get all squishy inside every time I walk past them. I do love old books, I really, really do. And this section is chock full of them. Just the spines feed my imagination, whether I feel as if I'm visiting some learned scholar's library circa 1890 and looking for the latest tomes on dirigibles, or looking for a book on forbidden magic and alchemy so I can free my brother from the horrible family curse...anywho, as they say, I wandered the stacks in search of books on whaling, particularly the use of nuclear submarines for whaling. There were submarines in the 19th century; I'm writing a (nuclear) steampunk whaling novel. Get over it.

I was pleased to discover that my friend the mad scientist haunted the very same stacks in his time at University; perhaps he was having fun in the alchemy section, or looking for the lost papers of Nikola Tesla. He called this afternoon when he realized I visiting his old haunts; he invited me to accompany him to a symposium being conducted this weekend by the evil genius/mad scientist community. Of course, this rests upon the assumption that his experiments go well and are concluded in a timely fashion. Hopefully he won't end up with any citations for practicing physics without a license. I wonder if there is a Physics Officer out there somewhere, handing out citations for physics offenses. {Noisy, you may want to expand your jurisdiction...}

Here's a photo of me enjoying myself in front of Suzzallo's famous stained-glass windows:

Of the boni attendant upon being a member of the Alumni Association, the absolute coolest is the library card. Yes, it's even better than the email address and the free wifi on campus. So I also took the time to renew my alumni library card, and brought home four lovely tomes on 19th nuclear whaling practices.

Today I'm making some soup and cleaning the apartment a bit, as soon as I have a cuppa or two. If my evening at the symposium falls through, I'm running down to Nordstroms to pick up a pair of hose - girls night out tomorrow night!

Oh yes - I have to give many Thanks to George Gordon for providing the means by which I was able to acquire my lovely little shuffle. I understand why people love these things! Thank you again, Lord B.

PS - You may recall from a previous entry that one of my regular readers recently suffered a goat invasion at her home. Amorous goats, no less. Yes, they're rather like rabbits - I've seen goats in action many times at the fair over the years. And they've set up house in her front yard, if you will, entertaining the neighbors with their love play. How sweet!

Nightmares

2008-07-24T08:58:00.000-07:00

Firstly, the maple-flavoured yogurt disaster has temporarily abated; I did manage to pick up four cartons of my dearest vanilla yesterday, but that won't last long, and there's still another maple in the fridge just waiting to ruin my morning. ::shudder!::

I did indeed go to my writing group last night. I've already forgotten my training as an admin - I brought no hardcopies, so I had nothing to present. Hey, I brought my computer - and I don't have a printer, so bringing hardcopies requires much more planning than it did at work. The others' writing was interesting and entertaining, but I was relived to find no blossoming Samuel Becketts in the group. I don't think I could deal with that. My talents, such as they are, can't hold a candle to the author of "Watt" (one of the finest novels ever written, if you can deal with the weirdness of the narrative).

Not much to report today otherwise, except I did dream about my fellow chair moisteners back at MegaDyneCorp Technologies. Y'all better hope this dream doesn't come true (except for you, Noisy - but hang on to your yoga ball!), because all the chairs were being replaced with these backless models that had plastic purple seats. No, they weren't stools, they were chairs with no backs. Cost-saving measures abound! The nightmare part was that I had brought my orchid to show off; I knocked it over in one of the labs and was trying to get the soil back in the pot and the plant stabilized again. There was this piece of equipment that should have been helping me, but instead it packed my orchid as if it were a brick of tofu and baked it. Yes, it baked my orchid. I started crying like a pony-deprived three year old. (Note to self - do not bring anything that could tip over when you go to visit your former coworkers.)

You may wonder why I am making a note to myself about something that occurred in my dreams. I did dream, several weeks before the impending layoffs were announced, that I had been laid off, and that Ms Prickly and I were both packing our offices. So beware of backless chairs, folks.

Today's activities will include stealing wifi from the University of Washington - woo hoo!

ETA: Oh yeah, I asked for comments on my geiger counter, and neither one of my regular readers made a single statement on the topic. Some help you guys are! If I ever put that electronic and mechanical stuff inside my robot to make him work, I'm not telling you - you'll just have to read about it in the paper.

Yuck

2008-07-23T08:58:00.000-07:00

I'm eating maple-flavoured yogurt for breakfast. It tastes as if someone spilled stale coffee on it. I really need to lay in a supply of my beloved vanilla.

I found several emails from coworkers this morning - they still haven't forgotten the meaningless chaos I could produce around office just by walking through and saying 'Hi'. How sweet!

Well, I must shower and then hie meself up to the grocer - oh please oh please oh please let me find some vanilla today - and then return for a few hours of writing. I've got my first writing group meeting tonight. I wonder how many different ways they'll find to tell me I suck....

Update - I got to the store late since so many of my former coworkers decided to write today, as well as finding other fascinating distractions in my inbox. I did manage to score 4 cartons of vanilla - woo hoo! - but I think I'm going to have to get there when the doors open tomorrow. Shall I take bets on the likelihood of that happening?

Another Productive Day - Really. I'm not making it up.

2008-07-22T17:36:00.000-07:00

One of my regular readers (I think I have two regulars - woo hoo!) commented yesterday that I seem to be having too much fun while on the rolls of the unemployed. Of course, said reader's home was recently invaded by goats, so I can see where my existence suddenly seems an endless party. I love goats, but I have a healthy respect for their special kind of anarchy. I feel the same way about kittens, too.

Last night's activities consisted of an unplanned dinner with the mad scientist, a much-appreciated attempt to cheer me up after news of a fellow coworker's demise (RIP, Bob). And a successful one, all things considered - good food, delightful conversation, and a brief visit to his home where we exchanged cultural goods...he got to download the sound effects from Star Trek TOS, and I got to watch Dr Horrible's Sing-along Blog . Would it surprise you to discover that Dr Horrible is a mad scientist? No? A bit of parody, and a bit of commentary, with entertaining musical numbers thrown in, it's extremely well-done, with the incredibly talented Neil Patrick Harris in the starring role. I found it wonderfully funny - and I hate Captain Hammer. (It should be obvious that I would sympathize with our mad scientist protagonist - c'mon, Captain Hammer is as bad as Zapp Brannigan.) Again, I was returned home well before the pumpkin hour, so I've had no chance as of yet to observe any post-midnight transformations in my mad scientist friend. If there is one, I do hope it's not a Jeckyll and Hyde thing; I'd rather date a Neanderthal from the Geico ads than Mr Hyde. He's just a bully.

You're wondering when I get to the productivity, aren't you? Does it count that I had my teeth cleaned yesterday? No? Well, today my BFF and I went down to the mater's to pick up a pen that's been taking up space in my parent's garage forever. I braved dust, dust bunnies, strange and frightening formations of cat hair, and spider carcasses, among other things, to disassemble this thing. It took three of us in the end - me, my BFF, and a very good friend of the mater's, all wrestling with poles, wire, nuts and bolts, cyclone fencing - and a good time was had by all. We almost cleaned up enough to look presentable at lunch; fortunately, the mater didn't notice us covered in dust, cobwebs, and cat hair. And she doesn't read my blog, so I feel safe in making such a public confession of sartorial disarray.

Upon returning home I had to shower and change clothes, and I'm still looking at taking a Benadryl in an hour or so. Dust is one of the most reaction-producing allergens in my life; small quantities are relatively safe...okay, okay, looking at my apartment, I should say large quantities are relatively safe, but a thick blanket (literally, blanket) of the stuff exceeds my body's capacity to cope.

After showering, I sauntered up to the grocery store in hopes of exploiting the 4 for $3 special featuring my favorite yogurt, Brown Cow Low Fat Vanilla. Breakfast of Chumps, I call it. Now that I'm unemployed, specials like that are to be treasured. I noticed it was on special when I went shopping Sunday, but there were only four cartons, so I thought I'd go back and get more. Today there was one carton. One carton. Why doesn't anyone buy the strawberry low fat yogurt? There's tons of it. So tomorrow is my last attempt to get my favorite yogurt on sale; if I don't succeed tomorrow, I'll just learn to like the low fat maple yogurt. Ugh.

This afternoon I told one of my caretakers at the coffee house closest to me that I had lost my job; a very sweet woman, she gave me a hug and much more sympathy than I'm sure I deserve. I'm fortunate to know as many kind and sympathetic people as I do; I often wonder why they put up with my cranky self, but I'm still grateful for my good fortune.

Finally, I'm going to seek some advice from my readers (you two regulars out there, listen up!). Dating a mad scientist, I'm not entirely certain what attributes are attractive to a delightfully warped psyche with a passion for physics and math; as kal pointed out recently, I am an outlier. I do not follow the normal distribution. But is that enough? Paris Hilton is an outlier too, after all, and she can barely put three sentences together. So, what do I do to make a good impression? Let's take my Geiger counter as an example. Yes, I have a Geiger counter. I mean, who doesn't want a Geiger counter, right? It's a beauty, too; it's a yellow civil defense model CDV-700 with an actual geiger tube. The day I found it was one of the happiest days I had in 2001. I even have an old book on radiation monitoring - I've got everything I need (if it were still 1961). It seems the perfect thing with which to impress a man, n'est-ce pas? There's just one problem - my yellow baby is broken. I put batteries in it and everything, yet there's no power going to the device. Big frown. I've been content to own it in its dysfunctional beauty; after all, it's more than most people have. For years she sat on the floor in front of my bookcase, a conversation piece and object of envy. But would a mad scientist be impressed? Do I get brownie points for owning a classic scientific instrument, or do I just look like I collect weird, broken junk? If I invite him over to my hovel, do I shove her into the closet, or do I display her proudly? Here's her photo for your consideration:

And a very informative volume to go with it:

He was impressed with my beaker mug, but I fear that I've already presented my best material. Let me know what you think about Mme Geiger up above; I'd like to keep making a good impression, if at all possible.

4 Days of Unemployment

2008-07-20T09:24:00.000-07:00

I've been off the job for 4 days. I cannot tell if I've truly fully grasped the fact that my time is my own - however, I had a lovely date Friday evening and spent a few minutes ranting about the fact that, for the first time in years, my time is actually my own. Even though the gentleman in question is a mad scientist, I'm sure he was thinking, "They call me mad?" If that was indeed his reaction, he had a point.

He had asked me what time I needed to be home and I commented that I really didn't have a time I needed to return home. I could return home at 11 PM or 4 AM. I had no obligations the following day that required me to be asleep or awake at a specific time. And more importantly, since I don't have to worry about getting up at 5:30 AM, it doesn't matter if I stay up late and mess up my sleep schedule for a few days. These thoughts inspired me to devote a couple of minutes to proclaiming the fact that my life is temporarily mine. (Temporarily because I cannot foresee being gainfully unemployed indefinitely.)

What time did I get home? Can't remember exactly, but I'm sure it was before the pumpkin hour. Since I was dressed like a hippie slob, I'm sure I wasn't returned home because he feared my clothes would turn into rags; perhaps he feared I'd turn into a rodent. Or perhaps my mad scientist friend is the one with the midnight transformation issues. Should we go out again, we'll have a conversation on this topic. After all, some transformations would be a plus in my book, not a minus.

For instance, the Creature from the Black Lagoon is one sexy rubber-suited monster. As long as I'm not going to end up murdered, I would be pleased to find out that I went out with the Creature. Godzilla would be cool, but the size issues are, well, immense, and I'm pretty sure I'd end up stepped on or burnt to a crisp in no time. Vampires are so overdone, and anemia is not something I ever want to experience again. Werewolves - no problems with the concept, but they're awfully bitey. I don't like excessive biting and scratching in a man. There is also the potential for flea issues. A mummy would be fascinating, as long as human sacrifice wasn't part of our dating future (I should clarify - as long I'm not the sacrifice). Think of the fun historical and archaeological questions you could ask.

However, I did not spend my Saturday ruminating on the charms of one monster over another. I spent quite a bit of it doing laundry and trying to excavate the serious disaster that is currently my apartment. In addition to the stacks of books, baskets of knitting, and chair full of laundry that are regular features, there are boxes and bags of crap from work. I managed to clear some of the pathway from the front door to the rest of the place - a good thing, as one of the boxes actually left a nasty wound on my leg. After creating the path, I then began to rearrange my cds and dvds. That resulted in a small decrease in clutter, but more to the point, it's part of a search for some software I want to load on my new Mac. I was trying to avoid having to migrate it from the old one, but I suspect that I'll end up migrating it because I cannot find the disk.

So today I finish the cd project (when you run a performance space you end up with a huge number of cds), conquer the laundry, and start working on a thorough kitchen cleaning. I haven't gotten any real writing done since Friday morning, excepting this scintillating blog entry, mes amis.

And I'll get started on all that work as soon as I'm finished with season 5 of Red Dwarf...ah, the joys of unemployment!

{Oh ye of dirty minds, it's not what you think! It's from Season 6. See, Kryten has a vacuum hose groinal attachment and was vacuuming the living quarters when Lister put on a pair of shorts that were actually a polymorph...oh, never mind.}

A Cuppa

2008-07-18T10:00:00.000-07:00

Jammy Cam Day Two (I don't feel the least bit compulsion to be consistent in my spelling). This morning, I'm wrapped in a blankie (it's cool outside), drinking a cup of tea and eating a bowl of oatmeal. When I'm finished with breakfast, I'm going to spend a couple of hours on my whaling novel; the action has moved from a whaling ship to a nuclear submarine. I will keep my eager readers informed on its progress!

My Last Day...And My First

2008-07-17T09:45:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was my last day at MegaDyneCorp Technologies (not their real name). I did indeed wear my jammies in to work (there will be photographic evidence in the next few days, I assure you). Two other liberated chair moisteners joined me by donning their lounging attire, and four members of my now-shrunken unit dressed to celebrate my freedom - Noisy came as me with Mary Todd Lincoln accessories (July 16th is the anniversary of MTL's death); Ms Prickly also came dressed as me (in one of my favorite skirts!); Cesare came as Mamluk Sultan Baibar, whose glorious victory at the Battle of Antioch on May 18, 1268, is generally ignored by calendar makers; and JB wore his kilt. If I might digress just a moment, I love a man in a kilt; the first time I ever saw a kilt-wearing man in the flesh was in 1981 at a Dead Kennedys show at the Showbox. There was this good-looking blond man in the scene who always sported black-rimmed eye glasses of an early 1960's vintage, and that night he had on combat boots, a black leather jacket and a kilt...and I was in love! He broke my heart when he went poofy haired disco three years later....

But I have to say, as cute as JB looked in his kilt, Cesare was stunning in his robes and fez - they were perfect with his beard and braided pigtail, and he looked as if he should be living it up in a hashish lounge in Marrakech...

But enough of the wardrobe details - let me return to work. The cafeteria had sunk to its lowest ever in terms of pastry quality, so Wonder Woman actually ran up to Starbucks and grabbed some pastries, including some Top Pot donuts (mmmm....donuts). I much appreciated it; when lounging around in my pyjamas and robe, it's nice to have a decent pastry to go with the coffee. So again, thank you so much, Wonder Woman!

Then there was the group lunch out - something like 40 people invaded the Red Robin, messing up the section seating and changing places at the tables so that the poor wait staff could do nothing but watch the chaos. Since they were all high-school age, I don't think they cared much; I figure that will teach management there to not take reservations for large groups, heh heh.

There were many tearful hugs, some last minute packing, and then another summit at the Milton. That was great fun - JB treated me to a Dewars Rob Roy, which the young bartender did not know how to make. Apparently, it's an old-fashioned drink. I said that I liked my drinks like I liked my men, old and classic, and some dude at the end of the bar started howling with laughter - it probably was pretty funny, coming from a woman in pyjamas and bathrobe and fuzzy pink flamingo slippers. Panagiotis treated me to a Glenlivet on the rocks - yeah, I like scotch. It rather goes with the men in kilts thing, after all. Tasty bar food was shared, and someone I hadn't seen in years actually showed up - the man responsible for my Gidorah and Mothra Beanie Babies. No, I'm not a BB collector, but I love all things Gojira (Godzilla to you unbelievers). It was great to see him again, and I have his card, so if I get desperate for work, I'll be sending him an email with my resume...

I did receive a couple of parting gifts - last week, Noisy gave me a Butthole Surfers video from 1985, I believe, full of live performances of all their early greats on there. I've already noted the time marks for my favorite songs, like "Hey" and "Mexican Caravan" and "I Shot the Pope" (or whatever the real title of the song is). It's been so long since I've listened to them that I was very happy to recall exactly how much I like their stuff. So truly, a million thanks, Noisy, for the wonderful treat!

I also received a flower arrangement from a former dept manager and his wife - they are great people, I always enjoyed working with him and chatting with his wife when she'd call. I would conspire with her to keep him on the straight and narrow - we made a great team. Thanks again for the lovely flowers!

And now for today...

I took a Benedryl last night because I felt an allergic attack was imminent, so I slept until 8:30 AM. I got up and brushed my teeth. I put on what I was wearing yesterday and walked to the coffee shop behind my house. I got a short soy mocha and cinnamon roll with orange glaze to go (no yogurt in the fridge, so that means I end up getting a breakfast treat at the coffee shop). I walked home, made sure I didn't want to catch today's NPR morning programming, and fired up the computer to check email. I cued up Jethro Tull in iTunes. There was an hysterically funny lolcats email waiting for me, which I read while eating and drinking. After ensuring that there weren't any email disasters I needed to address, I got the jammie cam going, and wrote my little blog post...

So, how's work today?

Note to Noisy - I'll write about Mr Pizza today, but I won't post it until tomorrow. This post is waaay too long as it is!

Breaking the News

2008-07-12T21:38:00.000-07:00

Anyone who has talked to me much in the last few days knows that I dreaded reporting the loss of my job to my mother. No one wants to report to their parent that she is indeed the unemployed wastrel that the mater always thought she would be. So I spent most of the week figuring out how to pitch it so it wouldn't be 'bad news'. The angle I came up with was, 'you know how you always wanted me to be able to spend more time working on cleaning out your garage?', and I must say, it was a highly successful approach. I recommend that if you find yourself in a similar position, dear reader. I was also able to report that my BIL was laid off at the same time, and everyone knows he's anything but wastrel material.

For the record, I did indeed behave like a wastrel last night. I was scheduled to attend a birthday party for a friend. Due to some bad news about a sick coworker, I sucked down two stiff drinks immediately upon arrival to dull the pain of a bad week and the bad news. Being the lightweight drinker that I am, I was seriously tipsy in no time. My performance at the billiard table, never brilliant, was probably the worst in my entire life - the list of things I cannot do when drinking is growing longer.

After dinner and billiards a few of us dead enders attempted to see "Hell Boy II" (too many people in line so we gave up), and ended up at the local tavern for darts (no, I didn't play - no one wants me throwing things after a couple of drinks, I assure you), beer, and beer. It was great because I saw some folks from one of my favorite eateries sitting at another table, drinking, laughing, and acting crazy. I love seeing people outside their work environment whom I normally see only on the job.

After the pub experience, we meandered back to the birthday boy's home where I tried to acquire a pony for myself (but had no luck, consarn it!), and indiscriminately doled out wedges for Trivial Pursuit players. There is only one question in that game that I know the answer to - the name of Sir Isaac Newton's dog. By the time I returned home it was almost 3 AM, and by the time I'd checked email and watched a Simpsons episode, it was almost 4 AM.

So it's just about bedtime for this sleep-deprived (and pony-deprived) girl.

Only three more days of work...

Waaaah! Waaaaah! I want a pony!

It's Official! I've been laid off!

2008-07-08T21:52:00.000-07:00

{I sent this email out to folks in my division - this was my cunning plan to avoid being rumor mill fodder, as well as to avoid answering the same basic questions 100 times.}

Yes, I've been given the gift of unemployment! My last day is Wednesday, July 16th. As always, people have questions in these situations, so I will try to answer them.

What will happen to all the junk in your cubicle?

Some of it will go home with me. Some lucky people will be getting gifts from me. You'll just have to wait and see how lucky you are….

What will do you now that you're unemployed?

Sleep.

No, seriously, what will you do?

Seriously? Sleep. After almost a decade of getting up at 5:30 AM I am perpetually sleep-deprived. I will spend some weeks/months catching up on sleep and exercise. I'll have plenty of time.

Okay, smart alec, what else are you going to do?

Catch up on my knitting, write a few novels, keep up my blogs, make jam and soap (in separate pots, of course), dye some wool, spin some yarn, clean out my mother's garage.

What will you do for money?

Well, I am currently accepting donations at my desk; at some point I will probably have to become employed again, but I'm going to wait until I'm well-rested.

Where will you look for work?

I'll start within walking distance of my home - the University of Washington. I don’t stand a chance there, so I expect I'll have a couple of months on unemployment at the very least.

What kind of novels are you writing?

One is about a scientist who decodes the dna of dinosaurs and decides to open up a giant dinosaur amusement park. One is about a young Italian-American man whose father is a big mafia boss but he doesn't want to follow in his father's footsteps - this one has a severed horse's head in it, a plus for any novel. Oh, and I'm writing one about a man who has this obsession with hunting down this huge whale - this one takes place in the 19th century.

Do you expect to increase your level of dumpster diving?

Not until the weather gets a lot cooler - dumpsters in my neighborhood stink to high heaven during the summer. I will, however, pick through leavings left outside the dumpster (for example, someone left a nifty office chair next to my dumpster, but I left it since I don't need a chair right now).

The Layoffs Cometh

2008-07-07T18:40:00.000-07:00

Greetings, wage-donkeys!

After nine days off, nine days of getting enough sleep, nine days of having the time and energy to cook proper meals for myself (or enjoy the culinary skills of others), I returned to work today. And the mood is mostly grim and definitely tense. Part of this stems from a last-minute management change on how we chair moisteners were going to be informed of our 'stay or go' status; originally, all unit managers had scheduled 15-minute meetings on the hour and half hour for everyone in their groups. However, it was decided that this was potentially humiliating; I guess it was thought that others would line the halls, waiting to see who came out of their meetings smiling or crying.

Now I see this thinking as being jam-packed with assumptions of questionable value. First is the assumption that smiles indicate staying and tears indicate departure. I know of several comrades for whom the opposite would most definitely be true. Another is that we drones will simply find an excuse to loiter all day outside conference rooms. Honestly, managers could open the conference room door first to eliminate the likelihood that someone would want to be caught doing that; or they could appoint hall monitors, if they're that paranoid. As if the word won't get around quickly enough anyway, apparently we are so full of schadenfreude that we'll hide behind the rented plants to enjoy the misery of our fellows rather than wait a couple of hours for the gossip to circulate.

Knowing that the meetings were cancelled, I asked lorenzo how we were going to be informed of our departure if not with 1-on-1s. He grinned and said, "I dunno." I asked if managers were simply going to corner workers in their cubicles and give them the bad news. He laughed. Ten minutes after this conversation, I ran into some folks in another division and they had been told that managers will 'find us' during the day and haul us off to a conference room to give us the news. I guessed right again, I tells ya! So managers will be trolling the building looking for their people, or cornering them in their cubicles, and dragging them off to some mystery conference room to give them their good or bad news. Nothing humiliating about that - I mean, what if you're on the way to the bathroom? Do you go pee, or do you get laid off first and THEN go pee?

In talking with lorenzo, I had also suggested text messaging as a better method to inform folks. In addition, I offered to use the Photobooth function on my Mac Book to make two movies, a fired and not-fired, and they could be sent out to the appropriate employees. Honestly, I'd rather get an email than be trapped in a room with my manager looking like the unhappy rabbit he is most of these days. He looks like he's ready to gnaw his own foot off in order to escape.

Oh well, I did manage to draft my "I'm Laid Off" email. If I have occasion to send it, I'll post the contents here.

NB - I was sent this image by a coworker; I have no idea where it is from. If this is your image and you would like credit, or would like to have it removed, just leave a comment - they're moderated and I'll see it. Thanks!

Jam Cam

2008-07-02T16:22:00.000-07:00

First of all, many apologies for being such an irregular correspondent. It's not as if I'm lacking material from which to draw inspiration; it is mostly a matter of time constraints. Having enough time to think through what I would say; the post about why I would never succeed in a restaurant job is an example of what happens when I don't spend enough time on my writing. There's a better post in there somewhere, but it will be awhile before I can sit down and rewrite it. And I don't want a blog that is going to be full of crappy, half-written posts. Honestly - my mother raised me better than that. But let's move on to today's topic.

I have been referring to the camera on my new little Mac Book as the "jammy cam" at work, taunting my coworkers with the fact that, once I'm laid off, I'll be posting photos of me in my jammies drinking tea and typing blog posts while they're slaving at work. (Hey, if one is going to be unemployed for awhile, one might as well get some enjoyment out of it; not getting up at 5:30 AM is going to be a big chunk of that enjoyment.) Today, though, it was more jam than jammies that were being photographed.

I took this week off from work; we get two days off for the holiday, and long before layoffs came I had decided to take the entire week off. After news of the serious layoffs headed our way was announced, I decided to enjoy the three extra days off and be rested for the bad news. So I've sort of used this week as a trial for being unemployed. The weekend was a bit of a bust, as it reached 303.15 degrees Kelvin in my apartment (and I assure you, the 86 degrees F really felt more like 303.15). But Monday I had an appointment, purchased some badly needed knitting tools, purchased something for my mother and knitting swap pal at the Daiso $1.50 store, did some dishes and some laundry. Yesterday I came over to a friend's house around noon - we rendezvoused at the Goodwill near her home, where I purchased some yarn and came up with an excellent cheap craft idea (notice I didn't say it was tasteful or attractive), and then we returned to her home to make strawberry jam from berries her bf had raised in their backyard. This morning we had toast with our lovely, perfectly jellied strawberry jam, bacon, potatoes, and fresh eggs from her chickens. Last night we lounged in their hot tub and watched meteors and the space station cross the night skies.

Not working sucks ;-)

Anyway, here are some lovely photos of our jam:

And here's a gratuitous chicken photo:

Interesting Interviews

2008-06-22T21:29:00.000-07:00

Firstly, I apologize to any regular readers (all .5 of you) for being so lax in getting material up every day. I certainly have plenty of material from the last few days, but things have been harried at work, with all of us having our interest interviews (are you interested in voluntarily leaving the company?). While I noticed no one wandering the aisles rending their garments and and wailing, there were lots of stress, lots of speculation (guilty, as charged - but I've a wager resting on all this) - low level upset conditions.

I had my interview, next to the last one for the group, on Friday. Since everyone else in the department had already heard what I was hearing, I received no caveats about repeating information, etc. I was informed that my job group was a high target group for these layoffs; but don't assume that my manager was threatening or pressuring me. This was a piece of information I'd been telling everyone else in my department all week. I actually feel really sorry for my manager lorenzo (not his real name); he is not the kind of man whose heart gladdens at the thought of layoffs. And like many others, he expects these layoffs to be much more severe and debilitating than previous years' layoffs. I know that I've been working in Corporate America for a long time - too long, perhaps - when I can pretty accurately guess what the company's strategy (or lack thereof) is.

For example, the above-mentioned bet was that I said that the Powers That Be (PTB) were probably aiming to have the 60 days notice period completed by the end of the third quarter so that when the stock analysts give their ratings, make their forecasts for the 4th quarter, the news would be good and the stock value would go up for the end of the year -- all important to justify those boni. Investors see headlines that read, "Company X Lays Off Millions of Employees" and they all jump up and down, yelling 'Woo hoo! More for us!' My coworker Mr T (T for Trouble, that is) speculated that the end of the year was the target date for layoffs, not the end of fiscal Q3. Well, Mr T, you owe me that coffee - in our department, at any rate, our 60 days are up well before the end of Q3. In your face!

Apologies, dear readers - my coffee lust has led me to digress a wee bit. Returning to the interview, I asked my manager a few questions to see if my guesses about how these layoffs were being performed were educated and probably accurate, and at least received some grim satisfaction that I was generally correct. I don't want to get into a great deal of detail about how my Company X is going about things - at least, not until I officially no longer have a job. Poor lorenzo - he looked every bit the unhappy rabbit that he is these days. But don't think to offer him carrots to make him feel better - he much prefers a good donut.

Why I Can't Work in the Restaurant Industry

2008-06-14T11:44:00.000-07:00

Behind my apartment is a little coffee shop and restaurant - my neighborhood is rife with coffee shops. This is the nearest coffee source to me, and it's not uncommon for me to slip a coat over my jammies on my days off and grab breakfast to go from there, so I can return home and enjoy breakfast in bed without having to make it myself. Sweet, I say. This place makes great breakfast sandwiches, French toast with enough cinnamon to make me happy, but the killer breakfast food there are the pancakes, thick and fluffy, with tons of fruit options as well as grain options (no wheat? no problem.). My faves are the oat bran. However, I digress as usual.

I'm a regular, they see me on the weekends, and while I'm waiting for my to go order I get to watch consumers in action. On one occasion there was an older couple at one of the tables; my guess is they were retired although they didn't look old enough to be have been retired that long. But honestly, they acted like they've been retired for 25 years. As the Man of the House bused their dishes I noticed that they'd each ordered pancakes. The food left on their plates looked good to me, not burnt or crispy or runny. (I'm waiting for an order, I'm hungry, you bet I'm eyeing other people's food and no, I did not dig the food out of the trash.) As they left, the older man accosted the barista and complained that his pancakes were well-done, browner than usual. He's not making a friendly observation; he's obviously deeply disappointed that his pancakes were not the exactly replica of the last order of pancakes. I could feel my jaw clenching as I managed not to call him an asshole. When he and his partner leave the restaurant I snort in their general direction. (Yes, I snorted, not farted.)

Now I'm sure you're wondering why I'm so upset at this person for expressing his displeasure. I've got two verbose reasons, so grab your coffee before you continue reading.

Firstly, this is a little mom and pop place run by a very nice woman; her employees are great people. The decor is funky, signs are written in crayon, the help is tattooed and pierced. This isn't Denny's. This is not the place to come if you want the exact, same, identical food experience time after time. It's not fast food. I've never had a stack of oat bran cakes that I didn't enjoy - but they don't come out perfect circles. I've never had a breakfast sandwich I didn't really enjoy - but they look like something a human would make for another human. They make great cookies there - they look like the cookies I bake (and taste even better), not like the bag of Chips Ahoy, each cookie weighing the exact same amount. It's a home-style hipster place, and no one pretends otherwise.

Secondly, while I appreciate good customer service, that doesn't equate to being someone's slave. Cooks, wait staff, baristas, all deserve to be treated with the dignity on the job that you want to receive when you're on the job. Yes, they get paid - probably not nearly what you get paid. Not enough to be treated like servants in some repressed Victorian household. I tip generously, even though I can't afford to; I appreciate someone else doing my cooking, baking, espresso-making, and I don't believe they should do it for free or next to nothing.

So the other afternoon, after the Dysfunctional Team meeting, I went to this coffee shop to get some caffeine to compensate for the quantity of bourbon I consumed. One of the young girls I see there regularly was working behind the counter - I warned her that, since I was drunk, I might easily be scaring customers away. She said that she'd be fine with that, since they'd been super busy most of the day, and with the next day being graduation they'd be even more packed if it was like last year's. The conversation continued to a discussion of rude customers. I related my observation about the man whose pancakes were browned.

Full of bourbon, I said, "I'd never make it working in a restaurant. When someone makes a stupid complaint like that, all I can think is 'Is this the worst problem you've got? Fucking browned pancakes? Not even burned, just browned?' I'd kick the chap in the ankles and then I'd ask him, 'Eh, what's more important now, asshole? You're broken ankle? Or your browned pancakes? What hurts more, your ankle or your pancakes?' Which is why I could never work in a place like this."

Of course, if she ever breaks some guy's ankle over a complaint, I'll have to consider feeling a few moments of guilt. Maybe.

The Cross, Dysfunctional Team Meeting

2008-06-14T10:14:00.000-07:00

Friday some of the malcontents (as Freud would have labeled us) from the workplace gathered at our official meeting site for a celebration of sorts - for those not in the know, the official meeting site includes libations alcoholic in nature. Woo hoo! The celebration was to mark the promotion of someone completely undeserving (whom I shall name Dink) to a position high enough that he will eventually be able to enact all his fascist fantasies...as soon as Ilsa of the SS responds to his voice mail messages.

Heh, the poster warns that some members of the public may find certain scenes in the film offensive and shocking. Shall we bet that some members under Dink's command found him offensive and shocking? If not, we can at least safely assume they found him uninformed and arrogant. Now a new bunch of underpaid corporate drones will learn to appreciate these most excellent qualities of his leadership. Thinking on it, I feel guilty that we did not make a toast to his new group of henchmen, er, underlings, er, subordinates.

We did make toasts to those who were unable to attend the meeting - and we had garlic cheese bread, which I think qualifies as toast. It occurs to me that tossing pieces of toasted garlic bread with hot, melted cheese on it at people you don't like would be a different method of toasting - but I digress, and the toasted garlic bread was too tasty to waste on someone I don't much like.

There was some small good news at yesterday's summit - one of Dink's former chair moisteners has landed another position. This chair moistener (I shall call him Lucky) is the only repository for a huge body of knowledge about our workplace. He's one of those people to whom you can go to either get an answer or to find out where to get one. It remains to be seen how fortunate Lucky's new placement truly is, but a reprieve is a reprieve and I'm pleased that he got one. I did try to convince him to take my job if I got laid off, but he's not nearly foolish enough to do that. I should have sweetened the deal by throwing in that shrunken head in my office. C'est la vie.

Back to the meeting minutes - there were toasts to those absent, a hailing of Fuhrer Dink, drinking and eating of pub grub, discussions about how many and how soon de big layoffs will be, and the joyous discovery that someone I know actually has the Ism lp with their cover of "I Think I Love You". I took incriminating photos of summit participants but you won't be seeing them here. No, those are my backup plan for when my unemployment insurance runs out ;-)

I have no idea when the meeting finally adjourned - four folks were still there when I left. Here's to hoping they're were not hung over!

Come the Big Layoffs

2008-06-12T22:48:00.000-07:00

Greetings, dear reader - welcome to the my journal of employment. Or lack thereof. I'm an employee of corporate America, for the time being at least. In 9 years of employment I will soon be undergoing my third 'beg for your job' interview. These are always named "Interest Interviews", the idea being to assess your level of interest in keeping your job. But really and truly, it's all about begging for your job - convincing them that you think the company is great; that you'd rather have any job with Corporation X than be CEO of Google; that you think you've got an incredible future with an incredible company; that you are the hardest working drone in Sector 7G. The problem is how to produce these responses so that they are believable.

The company I work for is less than half the size it was when I was hired. There are many, many jobs within my company that I would not take if it could possibly be avoided. Hardly anyone thinks the company has a long-term future (certainly not long enough for me to retire from there), and most people in my division think that anything past 2 years would be sheer luck. And then, I'm not a good capitalist; I'm not good at throwing other people under the train to save myself. I hate having to beg for my job. I'm surprised I made it through the first two, as I'm not that good a liar.

Anyway, this blog is about layoffs. Regardless of whether I end up victim or guilt-ridden survivor, I'll be posting here about daily life. The chaos of a company desperate for a huge and quick headcount reduction, or the joys of submitting three job applications a week - either way, you can read about it here.