If it's true that our species is alone in the universe, then I'd have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little.
Ain't that the truth.
February 2, 2007
February 2, 2006
This morning.
So, normally, I put my contacts into a combination cleaning/soaking/wetting solution overnight. I can then just remove them from the container and slap them in my eyes and I'm ready to go.
I forgot that last night I put them into a protein-removing cleaner instead of the normal all-in-one product.
So I happily slammed the right lens into the eye this morning and noticed immediately that something was horribly wrong. In other words, I was in agony. Spelled A-a-a-a-G-O-N-E-E-E. Obviously, this product which was spawned in hell is not meant to be thrown into the eye without first thoroughly rinsing with a firefighter's hose at 80psi.
As I clutched the entire right side of my face making gross muscle contortions and uttering mono-syllabic sounds like "Uh-Uh-Uh-Uh" and "R-Ee-Ar-R-oo-oo-oO-OO-OO!", I managed to not realize that my writhing body was carrying me downwards as well as perpendicular to the floor. Thus, the 'konk' sound my forehead made on the porcelain of the sink came as a complete surprise. But at least I had something else to complain about besides the caustic chemicals that were still eating the optical jelly out of my sight orb.
So now I'm sitting here at work trying to type this with only the close-reading lense in the left eye. The right lens is sitting in the bowl of a dirty plastic spoon on my desk while I drop Walgreens brand drops in my eye every 15 nanoseconds. I'd glare at it but even if I could see it clearly it would hurt too much.
This day is going to get better. It has no choice.
I forgot that last night I put them into a protein-removing cleaner instead of the normal all-in-one product.
So I happily slammed the right lens into the eye this morning and noticed immediately that something was horribly wrong. In other words, I was in agony. Spelled A-a-a-a-G-O-N-E-E-E. Obviously, this product which was spawned in hell is not meant to be thrown into the eye without first thoroughly rinsing with a firefighter's hose at 80psi.
As I clutched the entire right side of my face making gross muscle contortions and uttering mono-syllabic sounds like "Uh-Uh-Uh-Uh" and "R-Ee-Ar-R-oo-oo-oO-OO-OO!", I managed to not realize that my writhing body was carrying me downwards as well as perpendicular to the floor. Thus, the 'konk' sound my forehead made on the porcelain of the sink came as a complete surprise. But at least I had something else to complain about besides the caustic chemicals that were still eating the optical jelly out of my sight orb.
So now I'm sitting here at work trying to type this with only the close-reading lense in the left eye. The right lens is sitting in the bowl of a dirty plastic spoon on my desk while I drop Walgreens brand drops in my eye every 15 nanoseconds. I'd glare at it but even if I could see it clearly it would hurt too much.
This day is going to get better. It has no choice.
January 18, 2006
I really really really hate eHarmony.com
At least, I hate their commercials which have inundated the television airwaves (well, cable connections) lately.
I think back on past relationships where I thought "This is the one! I felt that I have known this person forever at first meeting". And I didn't have to spend the large amount of money to join an on-line dating service to feel it.
What I would like to see is those couples touted in the commercials 10 years from now. Are they still together? Or did they fall by the wayside the same way that loving couples have done for so many years now (even [gasp] prior to the internet!)?
It is just that every time I see the marketing for eHarmony, I remember the loves of my life. And I hate the way things turned out each time. And, although I don't expect that life would be different if we would have taken the free on-line personality test, would it be different if we both would have been paying $19.95 (or whatever) per month for the privilege of trying?
I sure sound bitter, don't I?
I'm really not, but those advertisements sure regurgitate some baggage from the lost luggage room of my emotional past.
Ah Ha! That's why I hate them!
I think back on past relationships where I thought "This is the one! I felt that I have known this person forever at first meeting". And I didn't have to spend the large amount of money to join an on-line dating service to feel it.
What I would like to see is those couples touted in the commercials 10 years from now. Are they still together? Or did they fall by the wayside the same way that loving couples have done for so many years now (even [gasp] prior to the internet!)?
It is just that every time I see the marketing for eHarmony, I remember the loves of my life. And I hate the way things turned out each time. And, although I don't expect that life would be different if we would have taken the free on-line personality test, would it be different if we both would have been paying $19.95 (or whatever) per month for the privilege of trying?
I sure sound bitter, don't I?
I'm really not, but those advertisements sure regurgitate some baggage from the lost luggage room of my emotional past.
Ah Ha! That's why I hate them!
has it really been this long?
Argh.
Must.
Post.
More.
I have no idea why, except to take up some time which seems to be weighing heavily lately. Must be the onset of SAD or something....
Must.
Post.
More.
I have no idea why, except to take up some time which seems to be weighing heavily lately. Must be the onset of SAD or something....
October 13, 2005
Death again
The last gerbil has died.
Cinnamon has finally succumbed.
The rodent era has ended.
Part of me is verily saddened by this; the gerbils stuck with us through the fire and through the years.
Part of me feels the lifting of a responsibility; with only one left it was only a matter of time before this one went away as well.
Argh. More despondency in a current time frame of total despondency. So, I guess it fits quite well.
Cinnamon has finally succumbed.
The rodent era has ended.
Part of me is verily saddened by this; the gerbils stuck with us through the fire and through the years.
Part of me feels the lifting of a responsibility; with only one left it was only a matter of time before this one went away as well.
Argh. More despondency in a current time frame of total despondency. So, I guess it fits quite well.
Moral Dilemma
I left the local grocery store today and found a $50 bill at the edge of the parking lot.
Picking it up, I had a flash of monetary problems in my life and how welcome this boon would be at this time and place.
Hesitating, I found myself walking back into the store. The moral thing to do, I thought, would be to turn the bill into the office for retrieval by whoever had lost it.
The line to the service desk was long, unfortunately, since it gave me a lot of time to think about what I was doing.
Then I realized (due to the store policy of my second retail job) that the money would revert to the store and not to anybody else. Besides, how was somebody who claimed the loss to prove that they had dropped a fifty dollar bill outside the store?
So, I crumpled the bill in my fist, walked back outside and wondered what to do. I stood by my car for about 20 minutes searching for anyone that might be searching for something lost.
Nobody materialized.
So I stashed the bill in my pocket and drove off.
Did I do the okay thing?
I mean, this is fifty bucks which somebody else could have been counting on to maintain the next several days of their life (of which feeling I know quite well lately). But who to turn it into? How to return to the rightful owner?
I have no idea. All I know right now is that I am $50 in the black which is something I wasn't a scant few hours ago.
But I can't let go of the questions this brought up.
Picking it up, I had a flash of monetary problems in my life and how welcome this boon would be at this time and place.
Hesitating, I found myself walking back into the store. The moral thing to do, I thought, would be to turn the bill into the office for retrieval by whoever had lost it.
The line to the service desk was long, unfortunately, since it gave me a lot of time to think about what I was doing.
Then I realized (due to the store policy of my second retail job) that the money would revert to the store and not to anybody else. Besides, how was somebody who claimed the loss to prove that they had dropped a fifty dollar bill outside the store?
So, I crumpled the bill in my fist, walked back outside and wondered what to do. I stood by my car for about 20 minutes searching for anyone that might be searching for something lost.
Nobody materialized.
So I stashed the bill in my pocket and drove off.
Did I do the okay thing?
I mean, this is fifty bucks which somebody else could have been counting on to maintain the next several days of their life (of which feeling I know quite well lately). But who to turn it into? How to return to the rightful owner?
I have no idea. All I know right now is that I am $50 in the black which is something I wasn't a scant few hours ago.
But I can't let go of the questions this brought up.
October 12, 2005
Tony Hendra is a god
I wish I had written this. But Tony Hendra of National Lampoon did, instead.
My favorite song/poem of all time. Especially recently. Hook is: "Give Up". I want to do such, lately.....
You are a fluke
Of the universe.
You have no right to be here.....
Deteriorata! Deteriorata!
Go placidly
Amid the noise and waste.
And remember what comfort there may be
In owning a piece thereof.
Avoid quiet and passive persons
Unless you are in need of sleep.
Rotate your tires.
Speak glowingly of those greater than yourself
And heed well their advice,
Even though they be turkeys.
Know what to kiss.....and when!
Consider that two wrongs never make a right
But that three do.
Wherever possible, put people on hold.
Be comforted that in the face of all aridity and disillusionment
And despite the changing fortunes of time,
There is always a big future in computer maintenance.
You are a fluke
Of the universe.
You have no right to be here.
And whether you can hear it or not
The universe is laughing behind your back.
Remember the Pueblo.
Strive at all times to bend, fold, spindle and mutilate.
Know yourself.
If you need help, call the FBI.
Exercise caution in your daily affairs,
Especially with those persons closest to you.
That lemon on your left, for instance.
Be assured that a walk through the ocean of most souls
Would scarcely get your feet wet.
Fall not in love therefore;
It will stick to your face.
Gracefully surrender the things of youth:
The birds, clean air, tuna, Taiwan
And let not the sands of time
Get in your lunch.
Hire people with hooks.
For a good time call 606-4311;
Ask for "Ken."
Take heart amid the deepening gloom
That your dog is finally getting enough cheese.
And reflect that whatever misfortune may be your lot
It could only be worse in Milwaukee.
You are a fluke
Of the universe.
You have no right to be here.
And whether you can hear it or not
The universe is laughing behind your back.
Therefore, make peace with your god
Whatever you conceive him to be -
Hairy thunderer, or cosmic muffin.
With all its hopes, dreams, promises and urban renewal
The world continues to deteriorate.
GIVE UP!
Reprise
You are a fluke
Of the universe.
You have no right to be here.
And whether you can hear it or not
The universe is laughing behind your back.
My favorite song/poem of all time. Especially recently. Hook is: "Give Up". I want to do such, lately.....
You are a fluke
Of the universe.
You have no right to be here.....
Deteriorata! Deteriorata!
Go placidly
Amid the noise and waste.
And remember what comfort there may be
In owning a piece thereof.
Avoid quiet and passive persons
Unless you are in need of sleep.
Rotate your tires.
Speak glowingly of those greater than yourself
And heed well their advice,
Even though they be turkeys.
Know what to kiss.....and when!
Consider that two wrongs never make a right
But that three do.
Wherever possible, put people on hold.
Be comforted that in the face of all aridity and disillusionment
And despite the changing fortunes of time,
There is always a big future in computer maintenance.
You are a fluke
Of the universe.
You have no right to be here.
And whether you can hear it or not
The universe is laughing behind your back.
Remember the Pueblo.
Strive at all times to bend, fold, spindle and mutilate.
Know yourself.
If you need help, call the FBI.
Exercise caution in your daily affairs,
Especially with those persons closest to you.
That lemon on your left, for instance.
Be assured that a walk through the ocean of most souls
Would scarcely get your feet wet.
Fall not in love therefore;
It will stick to your face.
Gracefully surrender the things of youth:
The birds, clean air, tuna, Taiwan
And let not the sands of time
Get in your lunch.
Hire people with hooks.
For a good time call 606-4311;
Ask for "Ken."
Take heart amid the deepening gloom
That your dog is finally getting enough cheese.
And reflect that whatever misfortune may be your lot
It could only be worse in Milwaukee.
You are a fluke
Of the universe.
You have no right to be here.
And whether you can hear it or not
The universe is laughing behind your back.
Therefore, make peace with your god
Whatever you conceive him to be -
Hairy thunderer, or cosmic muffin.
With all its hopes, dreams, promises and urban renewal
The world continues to deteriorate.
GIVE UP!
Reprise
You are a fluke
Of the universe.
You have no right to be here.
And whether you can hear it or not
The universe is laughing behind your back.
September 29, 2005
By the way...
Lack of posts for the last couple of months should require an explanation.
Sorry...none forthcoming.
Chalk it up to that my life lately has been totally fucked up but I don't feel like sharing it with the world populace at large. The people closest to me know. If any of the rest of you really want to be apprised of the situation, just email me and I'll fill you in on ALL the details. Certainly more than you want to know. If not, then just continue reading here and you may glean some nonsense filler.
All this being said, there is no guarantee that my posting here tonight is an indication that it will be continued. I hope so, but......
Sorry...none forthcoming.
Chalk it up to that my life lately has been totally fucked up but I don't feel like sharing it with the world populace at large. The people closest to me know. If any of the rest of you really want to be apprised of the situation, just email me and I'll fill you in on ALL the details. Certainly more than you want to know. If not, then just continue reading here and you may glean some nonsense filler.
All this being said, there is no guarantee that my posting here tonight is an indication that it will be continued. I hope so, but......
I am done with vin de francais
I have tried.
For years I loved various vintages of Cotes du Rhone.
For years I thought that French wines were the best.
But now, after many attempts in the last couple of years, I finally give up.
Most bottles I get lately have dried out corks and a nasty turned taste. In fact, I tend to approach my first sip with a lot of trepidation.
Latest was opening a bottle of 2001 Haut de Domy. And it sucked.
Lately, Argentinian bottles and Chilean vintages are far more fetching to me.
I don't know if it is a conservative conspiracy to drop the value of old French wines ('Freedom' wine, anyone?) or what it is.
All I know is that I can't take it anymore.
Maybe my tastes have finally deteriorated to Thunderbird or MD. Hey - at least it'll be cheaper!
For years I loved various vintages of Cotes du Rhone.
For years I thought that French wines were the best.
But now, after many attempts in the last couple of years, I finally give up.
Most bottles I get lately have dried out corks and a nasty turned taste. In fact, I tend to approach my first sip with a lot of trepidation.
Latest was opening a bottle of 2001 Haut de Domy. And it sucked.
Lately, Argentinian bottles and Chilean vintages are far more fetching to me.
I don't know if it is a conservative conspiracy to drop the value of old French wines ('Freedom' wine, anyone?) or what it is.
All I know is that I can't take it anymore.
Maybe my tastes have finally deteriorated to Thunderbird or MD. Hey - at least it'll be cheaper!
August 10, 2005
Song in my head
Running endlessly over and over: Bob Seger's "Night Moves".
Kill me. Just kill me now.
Please.
In other news:
Dukes of Hazzard just pisses me off.
Kyle is recovering splendidly.
Things have been nuts.
The IRS is on the move again.
And the number one thing is that I was Secret Shopped at my part time gig and got a perfect score. I would normally be proud of such an event, but instead I feel merely that I have become a lifer. Once my name goes up on the plaque, I will have no outside life at all and will still be selling retail tobacco products when I am 70+ years old.
And I am back to Kill me. Just kill me now.
Please.
Kill me. Just kill me now.
Please.
In other news:
Dukes of Hazzard just pisses me off.
Kyle is recovering splendidly.
Things have been nuts.
The IRS is on the move again.
And the number one thing is that I was Secret Shopped at my part time gig and got a perfect score. I would normally be proud of such an event, but instead I feel merely that I have become a lifer. Once my name goes up on the plaque, I will have no outside life at all and will still be selling retail tobacco products when I am 70+ years old.
And I am back to Kill me. Just kill me now.
Please.
July 29, 2005
The family reunion
Last weekend was the family reunion. I go, in recent times, every decade. Others go every year like a pilgrimage to Mecca.
I suppose it should be big deal; after all, this is my extended family. However, most of them are folk that I would never have anything to do with in the normal events of daily life. Not that they aren't nice people, but their expectations of life are in a completely different realm than mine. In fact, in the past it's almost like several hills out of the hills of Kentucky were lifted in entirely and transplanted into SW Wisconsin; that is my family: bible thumping country folk that I have absolutely no ability to relate to.
Kind of sadly, though, I don't think this reunion is going to survive many more years - the older folk are not attending (either through lack of ability or death, including my dad who was my most immediate link to these people). Some part of me wants to keep the family spirit going.
But let's just say that my last name is Smith. Since my mother, my daughter and myself were the only ones there with that last name, it has already escaped beyond my purview. There were a host of others with relationships to the family but no other Smith's in the party.
What does that say about this particular reunion? Over? Yep.
I suppose it should be big deal; after all, this is my extended family. However, most of them are folk that I would never have anything to do with in the normal events of daily life. Not that they aren't nice people, but their expectations of life are in a completely different realm than mine. In fact, in the past it's almost like several hills out of the hills of Kentucky were lifted in entirely and transplanted into SW Wisconsin; that is my family: bible thumping country folk that I have absolutely no ability to relate to.
Kind of sadly, though, I don't think this reunion is going to survive many more years - the older folk are not attending (either through lack of ability or death, including my dad who was my most immediate link to these people). Some part of me wants to keep the family spirit going.
But let's just say that my last name is Smith. Since my mother, my daughter and myself were the only ones there with that last name, it has already escaped beyond my purview. There were a host of others with relationships to the family but no other Smith's in the party.
What does that say about this particular reunion? Over? Yep.
July 21, 2005
Northern Exposure
As a result of the recent traumatic events around here, I'm being more of a lazy ass than usual. And finally sitting back and watching the 3rd season of Northern Exposure on DVD.
I always forget how much I enjoyed this show until I actually sit down and watch it.
Humour, drama, character development, quirkiness...it is all there. And I love it.
I always forget how much I enjoyed this show until I actually sit down and watch it.
Humour, drama, character development, quirkiness...it is all there. And I love it.
Life sneaks up again...
So, my daughter's boyfriend got into a car accident the other day. Flipped the company PT Cruiser a couple times. He's got major stiches over his head, a broken elbow (going in for surgery to pin it all back together tomorrow), his head is in that plastic head/neck casing to eliminate movement...in short, he's pretty banged up.
I saw the pics of the vehicle tonight, too...it is a wonder he survived at all.
She's freaked.
But I am proud of her...she has had an aversion to blood and gore and yucky stuff all her life, but she's putting her own fears in place and staying right my his side throughout this ordeal.
Very crazy.
I saw the pics of the vehicle tonight, too...it is a wonder he survived at all.
She's freaked.
But I am proud of her...she has had an aversion to blood and gore and yucky stuff all her life, but she's putting her own fears in place and staying right my his side throughout this ordeal.
Very crazy.
July 10, 2005
I have so much to tell you....
It has been a long time since the latest entry....a new part time job, a week of a summer cold/pneumonia/sinus infection (whatever), and a lack of motivation...
So:
First, let me tell you how much I hate June bugs. For those outside of the midwest, I don't know if you experience these mindless beetles, but they are the stupidest, ugliest and most ridiculous creatures of creation. For reference, check http://www.pbase.com/shaun/image/30280226 or, for a more scientific bent: http://www.ces.ncsu.edu/gaston/Pests/junebug.html
Anyway, they are the stupidest creatures, always flying into walls or windows or my hair - in fact, the last two evenings, they have flown into my head where I find myself senselessly beating them off of my head wondering why, if it is July, they are still here. Dammit.
Next, I find myself as the token guy at my part time job. Not a huge surprise except that I just found out that I am the only guy that has ever been hired at this place. I was told I was the subject of some gossip already because of this and further, because I was cute! This is more than I can take. But, unfortunately, a woman came into the place yesterday and told me that it was good to see me behind the counter rather than "those miserable females that usually work here". She continued: " I mean, I love vaginas, but only my own, so thank god you are working today!".
I gave her my little Lord Fauntleroy bow and said thank you, but what else could I say?
I feel so....spotted? Used? I dunno...all I know is that I do not feel sexy in the slightest in my work garb, but somehow I am the poster-dude of the store now. Ugh.
Finally, (there's more to tell, but I just don't feel like writing any more), I have found my fav jeans at Target. I have long wondered why it was acceptable for women to wear 'flares' in the current decade but not men. And, I have to tell you, the old Levi's big bell button fly jeans were my garb back in the day. Now, at least, there is a slight leaning towards that end: Mossimo, at Target. The "old style boot cut" jeans are flared, with a button fly and they fit great. Almost like I remember 20 years ago. I'm happy. Plus, I found a pair on clearance today, for only 12 bucks, so the joy abounds. Life is for the little things, and this happens to be one of them.
More later, if I can remember....
So:
First, let me tell you how much I hate June bugs. For those outside of the midwest, I don't know if you experience these mindless beetles, but they are the stupidest, ugliest and most ridiculous creatures of creation. For reference, check http://www.pbase.com/shaun/image/30280226 or, for a more scientific bent: http://www.ces.ncsu.edu/gaston/Pests/junebug.html
Anyway, they are the stupidest creatures, always flying into walls or windows or my hair - in fact, the last two evenings, they have flown into my head where I find myself senselessly beating them off of my head wondering why, if it is July, they are still here. Dammit.
Next, I find myself as the token guy at my part time job. Not a huge surprise except that I just found out that I am the only guy that has ever been hired at this place. I was told I was the subject of some gossip already because of this and further, because I was cute! This is more than I can take. But, unfortunately, a woman came into the place yesterday and told me that it was good to see me behind the counter rather than "those miserable females that usually work here". She continued: " I mean, I love vaginas, but only my own, so thank god you are working today!".
I gave her my little Lord Fauntleroy bow and said thank you, but what else could I say?
I feel so....spotted? Used? I dunno...all I know is that I do not feel sexy in the slightest in my work garb, but somehow I am the poster-dude of the store now. Ugh.
Finally, (there's more to tell, but I just don't feel like writing any more), I have found my fav jeans at Target. I have long wondered why it was acceptable for women to wear 'flares' in the current decade but not men. And, I have to tell you, the old Levi's big bell button fly jeans were my garb back in the day. Now, at least, there is a slight leaning towards that end: Mossimo, at Target. The "old style boot cut" jeans are flared, with a button fly and they fit great. Almost like I remember 20 years ago. I'm happy. Plus, I found a pair on clearance today, for only 12 bucks, so the joy abounds. Life is for the little things, and this happens to be one of them.
More later, if I can remember....
June 27, 2005
Totally nutso week
I've ignored my StumbleUpon friends.
I've ignored the blog page.
I've tried to write music to no avail...
In short, this has been just a nasty week for communication and/or creativity.
Thing will get better as I settle into a new reality.
What is a new reality? Is it an episodic representation of what should be happening? Or is really a quantum leap from one plane of existence to another?
For myself, it is both: The gestalt consists of the planetary and societal alignments with me dropping through the planes to wherever I end up...there is little choice in the matter.
Now, if I only knew exactly what I was talking about......
I've ignored the blog page.
I've tried to write music to no avail...
In short, this has been just a nasty week for communication and/or creativity.
Thing will get better as I settle into a new reality.
What is a new reality? Is it an episodic representation of what should be happening? Or is really a quantum leap from one plane of existence to another?
For myself, it is both: The gestalt consists of the planetary and societal alignments with me dropping through the planes to wherever I end up...there is little choice in the matter.
Now, if I only knew exactly what I was talking about......
June 17, 2005
waste disposal tip...
Don't ever put sunflower seed shells into the garbage disposal in the sink and turn it on.
The shells swell up due to the moisture content, shred themselves into pulp in the tumultuous blades and then proceed to clog up every pipe under the sink. If my kids were normal and ate the whole seed shell and all, I wouldn't have had this problem. As it is, I will forever just throw them away and not try to grind them out of existence.
The shells swell up due to the moisture content, shred themselves into pulp in the tumultuous blades and then proceed to clog up every pipe under the sink. If my kids were normal and ate the whole seed shell and all, I wouldn't have had this problem. As it is, I will forever just throw them away and not try to grind them out of existence.
My ghost is back....
I have had some weird paranormal experiences in my current residence over the years. But, after the fire, the spirit seems to have gone out of the...er...spirit. I was never sure if it was because there were no people here while the place was being rebuilt or if the smell of burnt wood drove it off or what.
Turns out, I guess, that it was just biding its time.
Tonight I am at the kitchen sink cleaning up a bit (one of my main irritations in life is a cluttered and messy cooking area). While my back was turned to the dining area (not a formal dining room, just an area), I noticed out of my peripheral vision that the light in the room became perceptively more intense. I turned around and the light fixture above the table was on. It is dimmer switch that has to be rotated to function. I know I did not turn it on (4 100 watt bulbs in it - I would have noticed!) and I did detect the additional illumination when it happened.
I can't explain it. The light wasn't on when I went to the kitchen. It got turned on about 5 minutes later. I was home alone. I was 15 feet from the dimmer switch.
How would you interpret this?
Turns out, I guess, that it was just biding its time.
Tonight I am at the kitchen sink cleaning up a bit (one of my main irritations in life is a cluttered and messy cooking area). While my back was turned to the dining area (not a formal dining room, just an area), I noticed out of my peripheral vision that the light in the room became perceptively more intense. I turned around and the light fixture above the table was on. It is dimmer switch that has to be rotated to function. I know I did not turn it on (4 100 watt bulbs in it - I would have noticed!) and I did detect the additional illumination when it happened.
I can't explain it. The light wasn't on when I went to the kitchen. It got turned on about 5 minutes later. I was home alone. I was 15 feet from the dimmer switch.
How would you interpret this?
June 16, 2005
Oh, god...call me Steve
For those of you who do not know of it, go to Steve, don't eat it before you read the rest of this so you have some context.
We'll wait....
[insert traveling music here]
Dum du da dum...
Oh, you're back? Okay. On with the post.
I get home tonight and find the freezer door slightly ajar. and the appliance itself humming away madly trying desperately to avert a disaster.
All that was really affected, however, was a package of venison cheddar bratwurst. It was thawed completely, being close to the door.
So that pretty much decided what was for dinner. I fought any attempt at ptomaine...cooked them with butter, onions and beer for 2 hours and then grilled them for about an hour to make sure that any traces of toxins were eradicated.
I have a digital camera, and could post a pic of the end result here, but I am more of a humanist than that.
Suffice it to say, I am eating them right now.
The flavour isn't bad, but I expect to be deceased before morning. Those of you who expect to gain some insurance money should be at the solicitor's office before 10. I'll call you if I happen to survive.
We'll wait....
[insert traveling music here]
Dum du da dum...
Oh, you're back? Okay. On with the post.
I get home tonight and find the freezer door slightly ajar. and the appliance itself humming away madly trying desperately to avert a disaster.
All that was really affected, however, was a package of venison cheddar bratwurst. It was thawed completely, being close to the door.
So that pretty much decided what was for dinner. I fought any attempt at ptomaine...cooked them with butter, onions and beer for 2 hours and then grilled them for about an hour to make sure that any traces of toxins were eradicated.
I have a digital camera, and could post a pic of the end result here, but I am more of a humanist than that.
Suffice it to say, I am eating them right now.
The flavour isn't bad, but I expect to be deceased before morning. Those of you who expect to gain some insurance money should be at the solicitor's office before 10. I'll call you if I happen to survive.
June 15, 2005
Poppy paranoia
Looks like I'm going to get that part time job that I mentioned in a post below. In fact, as of yesterday, I have to have a drug test, get the results back, get an employee number from the company and start training.
The drug test is what proved interesting once I got the appointment.
I'm at my real job today and suddenly craved a cup of coffee (not an unusual occurrence). So I popped across the street to one of the many coffee shops dispersed around the downtown district (I think I counted two on every block surrounding the capital building. The only thing missing so far is to have opposing Starbucks across the street from each other, but I am relatively assured that that day is soon forthcoming).
While there, I notice a biaggi that looks awfully tasty in the display case, so I order one of those as well. It was a choice between that and a BlackForest tart, but I thought the plain baked goodness outshone the overly sweetened pastry.
Taking my purchases back to my desk across the street, I was halfway through the bread when I realized that it was covered with poppy seeds. I knew it was seeded; the clerk even asked me if it was okay that it was seeded to which I acquiesced. But all of a sudden, a Seinfeld episode popped into my head (it is frightening how often that happens to me) about drug tests and poppy seeds (for those of you not in the know, various illicit substances are made from the poppy plant - it is for a good reason that the Wicked Witch of the West intones "Poppies will put them to sleep!").
But, since I figured that if there was any truth to it at all I was sunk anyway, I just finished the roll and coffee and headed to the drug testing rendevouz at 12:30.
There is something about urinating into a cup that is unlike any other action a human can partake of. I imagine it is quite a bit more difficult for women and I sympathize, but I was having my own bad time of it. In any event, I was successful other than filling the stupidly small plastic receptacle almost to overflowing (before managing to switch to the larger porcelain bowl underneath me) so that it was next to impossible to carry it out to the waiting technician without sloshing. At that point, I asked about the poppy theory and, while she agreed that such was possible, the potential was from years ago when the tests were a lot less accurate. She estimated that it would take the ingesting of over a pound of poppy seeds to trigger a positive in the tests. Which, if someone ate that kind of quantity, would indicate larger problems (both mentally as well as physically) than passing a drug screening.
Now the only thing holding me up from getting this job is the off chance that there is some residual chemical in laundry soap that will show up due to my continued use of it in my dishwasher. And if that happens, then I will cease to care. I have invested time and trouble into getting this extracurricular position but I'm not at all sure that I will happy with it once I am accepted anyway. But, if I do start working there, think of all the humorous fodder I will have for future blog entries. Now there's a perk I can live with!
The drug test is what proved interesting once I got the appointment.
I'm at my real job today and suddenly craved a cup of coffee (not an unusual occurrence). So I popped across the street to one of the many coffee shops dispersed around the downtown district (I think I counted two on every block surrounding the capital building. The only thing missing so far is to have opposing Starbucks across the street from each other, but I am relatively assured that that day is soon forthcoming).
While there, I notice a biaggi that looks awfully tasty in the display case, so I order one of those as well. It was a choice between that and a BlackForest tart, but I thought the plain baked goodness outshone the overly sweetened pastry.
Taking my purchases back to my desk across the street, I was halfway through the bread when I realized that it was covered with poppy seeds. I knew it was seeded; the clerk even asked me if it was okay that it was seeded to which I acquiesced. But all of a sudden, a Seinfeld episode popped into my head (it is frightening how often that happens to me) about drug tests and poppy seeds (for those of you not in the know, various illicit substances are made from the poppy plant - it is for a good reason that the Wicked Witch of the West intones "Poppies will put them to sleep!").
But, since I figured that if there was any truth to it at all I was sunk anyway, I just finished the roll and coffee and headed to the drug testing rendevouz at 12:30.
There is something about urinating into a cup that is unlike any other action a human can partake of. I imagine it is quite a bit more difficult for women and I sympathize, but I was having my own bad time of it. In any event, I was successful other than filling the stupidly small plastic receptacle almost to overflowing (before managing to switch to the larger porcelain bowl underneath me) so that it was next to impossible to carry it out to the waiting technician without sloshing. At that point, I asked about the poppy theory and, while she agreed that such was possible, the potential was from years ago when the tests were a lot less accurate. She estimated that it would take the ingesting of over a pound of poppy seeds to trigger a positive in the tests. Which, if someone ate that kind of quantity, would indicate larger problems (both mentally as well as physically) than passing a drug screening.
Now the only thing holding me up from getting this job is the off chance that there is some residual chemical in laundry soap that will show up due to my continued use of it in my dishwasher. And if that happens, then I will cease to care. I have invested time and trouble into getting this extracurricular position but I'm not at all sure that I will happy with it once I am accepted anyway. But, if I do start working there, think of all the humorous fodder I will have for future blog entries. Now there's a perk I can live with!
June 14, 2005
If musicians are so creative...
Then why, oh why, can't most of them come up with a better microphones testing phrase than 'Uh..testing..one..two..three".
This is a pet peeve of mine.
Years back (when I didn't have the responsibility I have now and when I had more energy than I have now) when I would test the mics, I would either sing some lyrics, recite a poem or read the upcoming events from the promo card the venue had laying around on the tables.
I know, 'Testing' gives a good indication of high end with the clipped 'tee' sound and the sibilant 'ess' sound, but the sound guys can certainly get the same levels from G.K. Chesterton's:
See the flying French depart
Like the bees of Bonaparte,
Swarming up with a most venomous vitality.
Over Baden and Bavaria,
And Brighton and Bulgaria,
Thus violating Belgian neutrality.
And rest assured that they will thank you for the change of pace.
This is a pet peeve of mine.
Years back (when I didn't have the responsibility I have now and when I had more energy than I have now) when I would test the mics, I would either sing some lyrics, recite a poem or read the upcoming events from the promo card the venue had laying around on the tables.
I know, 'Testing' gives a good indication of high end with the clipped 'tee' sound and the sibilant 'ess' sound, but the sound guys can certainly get the same levels from G.K. Chesterton's:
See the flying French depart
Like the bees of Bonaparte,
Swarming up with a most venomous vitality.
Over Baden and Bavaria,
And Brighton and Bulgaria,
Thus violating Belgian neutrality.
And rest assured that they will thank you for the change of pace.
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