groceries-bought
Rx-picked up
living room-straightened
laundry-is never done
dishes-washed (in tandem)
X Men 2-viewed
lawn-mowed
shrubbery-planted
Christmas cacti-repotted
nap-taken
next sewing project-started
hibiscus-pruned.
It's true, every blog is required to post a review of this movie, and also of Matrix Reloaded. So here's mine:
I liked it. It was action-packed.
One of Mystique's mutant powers must be defying gravity. How can this be? You don't want to go see this movie if you have any aversion to seeing blue, super-pert breasts.
Lifted from the very classy VBB.
D'oh! Once again, I am late in posting my response to GreyDuck's PPF.
PAST:How amazing! A little box with a telescoping bit of metal and two knobs, out of which comes a variety of noises! What's the earliest experience with radio you can remember?
I had a stuffed animal (a doggie) with an AM radio embedded in its belly.
PRESENT:If you listen to anything on the dial at all nowadays, what does it tend to be?
The 80s radio station or alternative. Sports radio during football and hockey seasons. Radio is so incredibly homogenous now, it's like Mal-Wart: no real variety.
FUTURE: In a dystopian (or utopian) future where nobody really listens to radio anymore and the big corporations have all left the game, you're given control of a big antenna on a hill somewhere to do with as you please. How will you choose to abuse the airwaves?
New wave 80s to irritate the masses; followed by swing, ska, big bands; and some late night pumpkin cake music to help everyone sleep better.
Hey, someone from Kenton, OH just visited my blog!
Most of you probably think I think that's cool because I'm one crazy Ohioan. But the fact is that Kenton is this incredibly tiny place that I got sent to on a work assignment, many years ago.
I used to have an interesting-yet-sucky job, where I was sent all over the country to teach people how to use an industrial embroidery machine and some crazy-ass digitizing software. The software was very obtuse, my employer was very cheap, and frequently my stay in these tiny towns would be extended because there were problems with hardware. But I got to go to 30 states while in their employ.
I found out later the men doing the same thing I did made $10,000 a year more than I did. Rat bastards (the company, not necessarily the men).
Space is big
Space is dark
It's hard to find
A place to park.
"The dinner you just ate was loaded with MSG!"
I guess we knew that, but this is the oddest (to put it mildly) Gorey work that's come up on my desk calendar:
It's so...politically incorrect...among other things. Discuss.
It's 8:40 A.M. and I need a beer. I knew that rainbow I saw over the causeway was an ill portent!
I was not angry since I came to France
Until this instant. Take a trumpet, herald;
Ride thou unto the horsemen on yon hill:
If they will fight with us, bid them come down,
Or void the field; they do offend our sight:
If they'll do neither, we will come to them,
And make them skirr away, as swift as stones
Enforced from the old Assyrian slings:
Besides, we'll cut the throats of those we have,
And not a man of them that we shall take
Shall taste our mercy. Go and tell them so.
Eddie gave me a roll of pictures his wife Michelle took at my elevation; she and Norm did a great job capturing the moment!
I think I'm going to start a campaign to get those neat upside-down exclamation points and question marks at the beginning of sentences.
¡It's not fair that Spanish gets to have all the fun! ¿Who's with me?
The corporate webmaster mailbox just got an e-mail with the subject line, "Break walls apart with your humongous knob!" This just proves how stupid spam is. I mean, if you need to demolish part of your house, you're not going to use a door knob, no matter how big it is!
I haven't checked my e-mail since Thursday, so I'm not being a jerk and ignoring you if you've written me since then - this time. I'll be catching up on my correspondence tonight.
Where does a girl go to these days to find some music on the Internet to "borrow"?
There's something wrong with the air conditioning at work; however, the only part of the building it is affecting is Sector 7G (Marketing). So we have all these box fans set up, trailer-park style, in a poor attempt at keeping us marketing drones somewhat comfortable. This has been going on since Friday.
Not that I'm a conspiracy nut, but whenever we have brownouts or blackouts, it only affects Sector 7G as well.
I got the shocking news that Amanda's mom died yesterday afternoon. I worked with Denise at my previous place of employment for about four years. Denise was this petite, Italian-Cuban lady who was everyone's mom. She had a strong work ethic, a strict sense of right and wrong, liked taking care of people, would go the extra mile for her friends and would do anything for her daughter. I don't know how she held it together; working two jobs, long drives to and from work, getting pressure from supervisors for her absenses due to Amanda's frequent doctor and hospital visits (like she was having fun in the waiting room), money worries a-plenty. I just saw her a couple of weeks ago, 'D' looked tired but was her usual chipper self. God, I can remember when I worked with her that she would show me where things were on her desk, assignments she was working on and such, so I would know where everything was "in case I die or something".
The cause of death hasn't been determined yet. She wasn't that old. No-one wanted to tell Amanda what happened, so the doctors told her of her mother's passing. She was comforting people after the fact. I'm sure it hasn't sunk in yet. That kid has had so much to deal with-absent father, painful illness, and now this. Thankfully, Denise's sister is stepping in to gain guardianship. She has her grandmother and a lot of friends and family who care about her.
It's frightening to realize that we can lose someone so suddenly. Hopefully those close to me know how much they've meant to me. Frequently you don't get a chance to say good bye.
Yesterday was pretty sucky, but that phone call last night proved that no matter how bad your day is, things can always get worse. I want to go home, drink several beers, and curl up in bed.
"Do yourself a favor and don't punch my clock 'cause I'm a Pantera's box you do not wanna open!"
"Don't mess with the volcano my man, 'cause I will go Pompeii on your... butt."
"I will keep dreaming! I will keep dreaming my friend! And when I wake up you better hope, you better hope you're.... asleep!"
Okay, this is the last straw. Someone thought it would be real cool to put one of those stupid "Billy Big Mouth Bass" fake-fish-things on Linda's desk while she's out this week. How many times before the novelty of the animatronic fish dancing to "Don't Worry, Be Happy" or "Take Me to the River" wears off? It's bad enough that one of the marketing engineers loves to set off a plush hamster on a Harley that plays "Born to be Wild." Now this. And the Latin American sales rep has taken up residence in the cube next to mine, (there's so many empty cubes, why that one?) so I get to listen to high volume Spanish all day. Fortunately, Fearless Leader (the Marketing VP) happened into my cube and noticed the noise level, so I think he's going to make a suggestion that the rep upgrade to a cubicle in the nicer part of town.
I just saw a sketch for an "Elizabethan Star Fleet Uniform" in the photo archive of a costuming list I'm on.
Is it Father's Day or Fathers' Day? Obviously there's more than one father out there, but when they designed the holiday, was it just understood that when you refer to the day, it was exclusively for your own father, from your point of view, so when you're talking about the day you render the word Father's? These are the things an English major ponders.
This is just one of the reasons why I dropped out of journalism school and ran pell-mell toward a mostly useless degree in English Lit. It's a pity-party article about fathers who have to spend Father's Day in jail. WTF? Should we let them out of prison because they have kids? "What's that? You knocked over a liquor store, but since you miss your little daughter we should let you out? Right then, off you go!" What about all the inmates who don't have kids, are they somehow worse people than the jerks who broke the law and happened to have fathered kids? This ticks me off because it implies that people who have children are somehow more deserving of compassion than those who do not. I'm so tired of that sentiment in our culture. Not to mention the whole blasé way the crimes of these dads are just glossed over - "serving time for violation of probation for a cocaine possession charge", "serving time for aggravated battery", "heroin possession charge". These are not nice guys who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Here's a crazy idea, maybe they should have thought about their kids before committing crime?
Denise's obituary is in the paper today. It's tough to see someone's life boiled down to her age and surviving relatives. The funeral is Wednesday at 11.
The last time the Super Bowl was played in town, I had to suffer through the insult of the hated Ravens, a team that is an abomination, being one of the two teams competing. This did give me a rare opportunity to actually engage stinkin' Art Modell's son in a heated debate on an area radio station (thanks to Lisa for letting me know he was on the air). That's right, I called to interrupt their little love fest with that football team-stealin' sonofabitch to inform them that, no, no one from Northeast Ohio had forgiven and forgotten their foul misdeeds just because an NFL team had been restored to Cleveland. I'm actually surprised they let me on the air, though they did hang up on me when they realized how hostile I was.
If you like this sort of Photoshop tom-foolery, you'll enjoy this post by Godfrey, where you'll find a link to similar work by Jen Thompson.
Funeral homes should have boxes of Kleenex in abundance. They also should pay the extra few cents for the brand name stuff, and not the generic tissues that take a layer of skin off. As a corollary, funeral homes should also be sure to provide trash cans for used Kleenex. Don't make us carry them around, or, worse, leave them lying around!
********
There were so many people at Denise's funeral yesterday. We got restricted view seats; others had to stand. I kept thinking, Wow, I wish she could see all these people, all the beautiful flowers they sent, how sad they were that she was gone. That's one of the crazy things about funerals, sure, they're supposed to provide a sense of closure for the bereaved, but wouldn't it be cool if we could somehow rig it so the departed gets told beforehand how special he or she is? I guess it's up to us to make sure loved ones know they are loved.
Another thing I found a little funny - the people at work that used to drive Denise crazy, there to pay their respects. Like the two guys who she had to serve as administrative assistant to. Both very similar in that they could not plan ahead or manage a schedule even with someone else doing the scheduling. The receptionist who frequently called in sick or came in late. The thing was, D didn't hate them, she wanted them to do better, knowing that they were capable of it. She was everyone's mother that way. She was the one who would remember birthdays around the office. She was taking meals over to one of the young guys who had just moved into a new place. But she didn't take care of herself, and, unfortunately, that led to her untimely demise.
I wonder if the office manager, who didn't really care for her, felt guilty.
********
After the service, we waited in line to talk to Amanda. Someone had made a collage of photos of D. We looked at that and admired the flowers. I noticed a gold box on a table in the center of the arrangements. Was that...was she...? Lisa looked at it. "Yeah, urns aren't very traditional looking anymore."
I have this thing about cremation. It kind of creeps me out. I think it has to do with all the study of ancient Egypt that I've done over the course of my life. (Not that mummification is the way to go either, mind you.) Remember that one scene in the movie Scrooged? I almost had to leave the theater. Yes, I know I'm weird.
********
Apparently they are importing Catholic priests from Ireland into Florida. For me, anyway, at least I could enjoy the lilting accent, since the words weren't too comforting. I'm not Catholic, but I'm fascinated by the call and response thing, the Rosary, the sameness of it all. And Catholic school - is that to protect the faithful from heathen Protestants? I was also having trouble with the assertion that the departed was in the presence of God, but yet would be reborn when Christ returns. How exactly does that work? Do you just hang out in Heaven and then somehow get made corporeal again when the time comes? That seems a little - odd.
********
Isn't it interesting that R.I.P. - Requiescat in Pacem and it's translation, "Rest in Peace", both have the same initials?
The image of Mr. Bean defiantly shooting the bird popped into my mind yesterday at about 4:30, when Freehand decided it didn't have enough memory to let me finish creating a stupid boring technical drawing. These images are as close as I could find.
Mr. Bean's a little creepy. It's hard to believe he's the same guy as Black Adder. Be grateful I chose not to post the image of him in his underwear.
ADDENDUM: Other things that make me want to flip off the world:
*Win-DOHs Media Player: Memory hog of epic proportions. Won't make a CD. What a surprise, a Windows product that bites the big one! [/sarcasm]
*Stupid office computer that frequently decides to not acknowledge the video card in the morning, forcing lots of "off and oning" and swearing. Not the best way to start the office day.
*Not getting a lunch break.
*Doing a bunch of technical drawings for someone who doesn't appreciate what an annoying pain it is to replicate graphs that were originally created in the 80s. (Have I mentioned that I hate technical drawings?)
ADDENDUM 2: For Jen:
Absolutely!
That is all.
......
On second thought: fresh glazed doughnuts don't suck. Maybe that's all I need.
Here are my answers for GreyDuck's meme:
PAST: How well do you remember your childhood, especially before age 10 or so?
It's getting slightly fuzzier as I get older...
PRESENT: Do you keep track of things like appointments and pertinent facts well, or do things tend to fall out of your short term memory?
I have a decent memory, but I am very reliant upon the snazzy PDA Godfrey gave me for Christmas to keep track of my schedule.
FUTURE: A medical procedure becomes available that promises a complete restoration of every memory you've ever stored in your brain. Do you take advantage of it?
No. One of my coping strategies is to bury painful memories. It usually works.
I am Anima.
And I am dead.
What I am saying: I'm sorry. Let's start over.
I have nothing to say.
O Monotony!
Come back to us.
Goodbye forever.
Sarah and my campadre the tech writer over in Engineering have both finished the latest Harry Potter novel. Yeah, the 900-some page book that was released midnight Friday. I don't even have a copy of it yet, and will probably have to wait till this Friday, as my perky little Tracker decided it didn't want to go to work today. No idea how much it will cost to revive it. Hopefully not too much. Godfrey was a dear, jumped the Tracker, followed me to our trusty mechanic, went with him to work downtown, then got to take his ride to my office; I work in the next county, two bridges away, so hopefully we will be back to a two-car household soon.
Apparently I have been rather inconsiderate lately - am feeling rather guilty and sad about the whole thing. "A study in mope-ish-ness," to quote the Asian Howard Cosell impersonator in Better Off Dead.
Sorry I haven't written much lately. I had a nervous breakdown of sorts Tuesday. A portion of my malady can be attributed to the weather - days of rain followed by days of mind-numbing heat and humidity. But, after getting physically sick Thursday, I'm feeling much better now. Have lots of work stuff to share that will be a laugh riot to you all, but is a little scary to me since, well, it's my life. Hopefully I will have a bang-up blog entry in the next 24 hours. After all, there's three different kinds of cheese in the house.
Last week at the office, the event we'd all been expecting finally happened. First, El Presidente, the guy who ran the company, was dismissed. Making the official announcement at a company meeting Thursday, the Heir Apparent proclaimed himself the new president and credited "The Lord". In fact, he credited "The Lord" many, many times, so much so that I was certain the meeting would end in prayer.
Now first of all, I think maybe the Heir Apparent's father, Mr. B, who owns the company, may have also had a say in this. Second of all - !!! I mean, I know it's his company and he can do whatever he wants, but have a little bit of tact, for the Very Hindu Engineering VP, or the departed El Presidente, who happens to be Jewish, or my Pagan office buddy.
Then, on Friday morning, we learned we lost our buffer, in the form of Fearless Leader, the Marketing VP. He was so cool to work for, one of those rare birds who actually complimented you when he thought you did a good job on the project. I didn't even get to tell him how great he was to work for! He was planning on retiring next year when he became eligible for Medicare, so he should be okay, except he has to pay for insurance for a while.
So it looks as if Marketing's new Fearless Leader is going to be The Wayniac, a frenetic engineer/musician from New York. Wayniac is pretty cool, but man he talks a lot. And fast. Uncle Chuckie talked a lot and repeated himself a great deal, but Wayniac covers lots of new ground. Like I think he forgets that I'm an English major, not an engineer.
I shall have to start referring to the Heir Apparent as Son of Mr. B, since he has staked his claim on his inheritance. Can I hear a Hallelujah?
PAST: What game did you really enjoy playing as a child?
I can't really remember enjoying board games all that much, I seemed to have lacked patience back then (big shock). I think I enjoyed Uno, and I have some fond memories of playing a card game called "Spite and Malice" in the summertime with my grandmother and aunties.
PRESENT: How about now? Do you play at all, or have you grown too old for that sort of silliness?
We have a friend who's nuts for all these whacky, off-beat games, mostly made by a company called "Cheap-ass Games" (I think). When we visit him we'll spend hours, every time a new game or two. It's been some time since the gang has played that French card game with the driving motif, the name of which escapes me.
FUTURE: What game will you be infamous for playing in your later years?
Whatever the volunteers who visit the poor old folks home want to play.
Found this morning at GreyDuck's place. Memes, is there nothing they can't tell us about ourselves? (I'd love to believe the 'without egoism' bit.)
Rowan
Sensitivity
Full of charm
cheerful
gifted
without egoism
likes to draw attention
loves life
motion
unrest and even complications is both dependent and independent
good taste
artistic
passionate
emotional
good company
does not forgive.
You don't know how much I need you.
While you're around I don't feel blue.
And when we kiss I know that you need me too.
I can't believe I found a love that's so pure and true.
But it all was bullshit.
It was a goddam joke.
And when I think of you
I hope you fucking choke.
I hope you're glad with what you've done to me.
I lay in bed all day long feeling melancholy.
You left me here all alone, tears running constantly.
Oh somebody kill me please,
somebody kill me plee-ase,
I'm on my knees,
pretty pretty please kill me.
I want to die.
Put a bullet in my head.
What's a p3nis? And why would making it two inches bigger make her say "wow"?
