Muslims and Piracy
12 hours ago
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Sad Sunday
By now, you might have been walking past your TV while the evening news gave a 20 second spot to the latest events in Indianapolis.
One of the great country bands, Sugarland was all set to go out on stage at the Indiana State Fair. Just minutes before they were to entertain the crowd an announcer explained that the show would be delayed due to weather, they warned the crowd they may need to evacuate and told them where they should go in that event.
Sadly, just two or three minutes later there was no longer time to take cover.
Jennifer Nettles of Sugarland said, "I am so moved. Moved by the grief of those families who lost loved ones. Moved by the pain of those who were injured and the fear of their families. Moved by the great heroism as I watched so many brave Indianapolis fans actually run toward the stage to try and help lift and rescue those injured. Moved by the quickness and organization of the emergency workers who set up the triage and tended to the injured."
One of the great country bands, Sugarland was all set to go out on stage at the Indiana State Fair. Just minutes before they were to entertain the crowd an announcer explained that the show would be delayed due to weather, they warned the crowd they may need to evacuate and told them where they should go in that event.
Sadly, just two or three minutes later there was no longer time to take cover.
Tonight's local news took the entire hour covering the story. Sugarland cancelled their concert tonight, which was supposed to be in Iowa. Their stage is gone as is their equipment, but that pales in comparison to the five people that lost their lives and the nearly 50 people injured, some severely.
Our governor Mitch Daniels spoke today, his voice cracking talking about the tragedy but offering hope. There's hope because Hoosiers attending the concert, turned from running from the stage back to saving those trapped under the rigging. "Hoosiers ran to the trouble, not from the trouble."
Say a prayer tonight for those who have lost someone. And those still suffering from their injuries.
Jennifer Nettles of Sugarland said, "I am so moved. Moved by the grief of those families who lost loved ones. Moved by the pain of those who were injured and the fear of their families. Moved by the great heroism as I watched so many brave Indianapolis fans actually run toward the stage to try and help lift and rescue those injured. Moved by the quickness and organization of the emergency workers who set up the triage and tended to the injured."
Monday, August 8, 2011
The Smartest Man in America
“If the US Government was a family, they would be making $58,000 a year, they spend $75,000 a year and have $327,000 in credit card debt. They are currently proposing BIG spending cuts to reduce their spending to $72,000 a year. These are the actual proportions of the federal budget & debt, reduced to a level that we can understand.”
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Any Random Day
This morning I saw a Lotus parked just outside of the Conrad Hotel. I gawked a bit at it, not recalling if I had ever seen one before. Maybe it was old or not polished, but I'll have to say I really wasn't that impressed.
The office I work in for my short term contract is EXTREMELY quiet, very little conversations among all the employees, not quite sure why. They seem to basically like each other and they don't seem to be overly worked, so it's kind of odd. But this morning in the distance I could hear someone teasing one of the IT boys. They kept asking when he was going to bring in his girlfriend, said something about she probably doesn't really exist but is just some picture off the internet. Then I was almost sure someone asked him, "She's your sister, right?" Maybe he's originally from Kentucky.
Later in the morning the girl next to me was having a telephone conversation discussing the development of a mobile phone app for an upcoming event. She asked what that city's demographics were. Then she said, "Well for instance, if your demographic is older, that would suggest an IPhone app as IPhone users are older, a younger demographic would suggest the Android."
Do you think that's really true?
After lunch I decided to walk around a bit. Still checking out the restaurants downtown since it's been 15 years since I worked there. I passed by a vacant store front. The door was open and the place was being remodeled for some new business. There's a LOT of things happening in Indy, getting ready for the SuperBowl next year. Two men were standing in the doorway. One guy says very loudly to the other one, "NO, we'll do that on my property." More arguing ensued, then the first man said,, "That M0(&*& F&%@* can come here and ....." I was couldn't hear the rest as I just kept walking.
As I passed the local Jimmy John's I saw their bicycle delivery guy waiting on his bike, nothing in hand since it was nearly 2 pm. Suddenly I could hear what I assume was some chick behind me clomping fast like a Clydesdale. I didn't turn around, but as I passed the Jimmy John's guy, he said to her, "SHUT UP." He didn't sound like he was kidding. The Clydesdale seemed to stop a few feet later.
Nice shoes.
Even though I forced myself to take a late lunch, the office hours from 8:30 to 5:30 puts me in rush hour at the worst time and makes the afternoons insufferably long, especially with the silence of the office.
At 5:30 sharp I head for the elevator. As it opened a guy with glasses and in a wheel chair was getting out. He had a service dog with him. I smiled, asked him how he was doing. Then I noticed he had no legs at all but had shoes at the end of the trunk of his body. The toes of his shoes were both pointing outward. I assumed he must have some type of ability to walk. Just before I could step in the elevator, he turned around and realized he had gotten off the wrong floor.
I stuck my hand in the closing door to get it reopened for him and he and his dog wheeled back in. For some reason I figured he was heading up, so I didn't get on the elevator. He thanked me as the door closed and then I realized he was heading down and I just missed my elevator.
Today they had another switchover on my interstate. Our two lanes had to move over, next to the oncoming traffic. They were very tight lanes, bordered on both sides by those cement construction barriers.
Suddenly the cars in front of me were braking hard, luckily I had left plenty of room to stop as did the guy behind me. The car in front of me steers slowly as left as he could with the barriers and I realize there is an entire tread of a semi tire blocking our path. I too slowly made my way around the tread, wondering how close I was to the barrier and knowing the tire had to just have shredded or it wouldn't have still been where it was.
A few feet up I could see other tire tread bits kicking up in the right hand lane. Since my exit was coming up, I moved over to the right hand lane and spotted the poor trucker with his flashers on moving slowly. He had no choice there was absolutely no where else to go.
I took this picture as the exit was coming up and the cement barriers gave way to the more friendly kind.
OK, don't report me. I KNOW I'm not supposed to take pictures while driving, which explains why the picture is really off center. And we were barely moving, so I thought it would be okay. Even though the exit was just feet away, he pulled off in the first breakdown lane he could. Poor guy.
GenCon starts tomorrow. I'll have to have my phone charged and ready to take random pictures of the geeks invading town.
Exciting life, huh?
The office I work in for my short term contract is EXTREMELY quiet, very little conversations among all the employees, not quite sure why. They seem to basically like each other and they don't seem to be overly worked, so it's kind of odd. But this morning in the distance I could hear someone teasing one of the IT boys. They kept asking when he was going to bring in his girlfriend, said something about she probably doesn't really exist but is just some picture off the internet. Then I was almost sure someone asked him, "She's your sister, right?" Maybe he's originally from Kentucky.
Later in the morning the girl next to me was having a telephone conversation discussing the development of a mobile phone app for an upcoming event. She asked what that city's demographics were. Then she said, "Well for instance, if your demographic is older, that would suggest an IPhone app as IPhone users are older, a younger demographic would suggest the Android."
Do you think that's really true?
After lunch I decided to walk around a bit. Still checking out the restaurants downtown since it's been 15 years since I worked there. I passed by a vacant store front. The door was open and the place was being remodeled for some new business. There's a LOT of things happening in Indy, getting ready for the SuperBowl next year. Two men were standing in the doorway. One guy says very loudly to the other one, "NO, we'll do that on my property." More arguing ensued, then the first man said,, "That M0(&*& F&%@* can come here and ....." I was couldn't hear the rest as I just kept walking.
As I passed the local Jimmy John's I saw their bicycle delivery guy waiting on his bike, nothing in hand since it was nearly 2 pm. Suddenly I could hear what I assume was some chick behind me clomping fast like a Clydesdale. I didn't turn around, but as I passed the Jimmy John's guy, he said to her, "SHUT UP." He didn't sound like he was kidding. The Clydesdale seemed to stop a few feet later.
Nice shoes.
Even though I forced myself to take a late lunch, the office hours from 8:30 to 5:30 puts me in rush hour at the worst time and makes the afternoons insufferably long, especially with the silence of the office.
At 5:30 sharp I head for the elevator. As it opened a guy with glasses and in a wheel chair was getting out. He had a service dog with him. I smiled, asked him how he was doing. Then I noticed he had no legs at all but had shoes at the end of the trunk of his body. The toes of his shoes were both pointing outward. I assumed he must have some type of ability to walk. Just before I could step in the elevator, he turned around and realized he had gotten off the wrong floor.
I stuck my hand in the closing door to get it reopened for him and he and his dog wheeled back in. For some reason I figured he was heading up, so I didn't get on the elevator. He thanked me as the door closed and then I realized he was heading down and I just missed my elevator.
Today they had another switchover on my interstate. Our two lanes had to move over, next to the oncoming traffic. They were very tight lanes, bordered on both sides by those cement construction barriers.
Suddenly the cars in front of me were braking hard, luckily I had left plenty of room to stop as did the guy behind me. The car in front of me steers slowly as left as he could with the barriers and I realize there is an entire tread of a semi tire blocking our path. I too slowly made my way around the tread, wondering how close I was to the barrier and knowing the tire had to just have shredded or it wouldn't have still been where it was.
A few feet up I could see other tire tread bits kicking up in the right hand lane. Since my exit was coming up, I moved over to the right hand lane and spotted the poor trucker with his flashers on moving slowly. He had no choice there was absolutely no where else to go.
I took this picture as the exit was coming up and the cement barriers gave way to the more friendly kind.
GenCon starts tomorrow. I'll have to have my phone charged and ready to take random pictures of the geeks invading town.
Exciting life, huh?
Thursday, July 28, 2011
I'll take "Something Sounds Fishy" for $200 Alex
So by now I'm sure you've heard about the heroic efforts of Alex Trebek chasing down a burgler.
So, in true Jeopardy fashion, I'll put it this way.
And the answer is.......
"Because famous people do stupid things."
My question is......
"Why do I have a nagging suspicion that a "celebrity" who claims that he was awoken in the middle of the night by a FEMALE burgler in a hotel room and first put on his underwear before he chased her down in the hallway could actually have hired that female for an evening away from his wife?"
Does anyone else find the story a bit odd? And Alex is the one that said in an interview that he put on his underwear before running after her. I'm sure there are a lot of men that sleep in the nude, but how many burglers that break into an occupied room in the middle of the night are female? I wouldn't place any bets his story is exactly accurate.
So, in true Jeopardy fashion, I'll put it this way.
And the answer is.......
"Because famous people do stupid things."
My question is......
"Why do I have a nagging suspicion that a "celebrity" who claims that he was awoken in the middle of the night by a FEMALE burgler in a hotel room and first put on his underwear before he chased her down in the hallway could actually have hired that female for an evening away from his wife?"
Does anyone else find the story a bit odd? And Alex is the one that said in an interview that he put on his underwear before running after her. I'm sure there are a lot of men that sleep in the nude, but how many burglers that break into an occupied room in the middle of the night are female? I wouldn't place any bets his story is exactly accurate.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Bob Hope vs Jane Fonda
Bob Hope performed in 199 USO tours.
In 1969, President Lyndon Johnson bestowed the Presidential Medal of Freedom upon Bob Hope for his service to the men and women of the armed forces through the USO.
In 1997, the USO successfully worked with Congress to designate Bob Hope the first honorary veteran of the U.S. armed forces.
"I guess I have my critics everywhere." – Bob Hope - In Saigon where a bomb went off at his hotel just before he checked in.
"If I had that kind of money, I wouldn't come to Vietnam, I'd send for it." – Bob Hope - Denying reports during a Christmas troop show in Saigon that he was worth $500 million.
As far as I can tell Jane Fonda went to Vietnam ONCE.
"I, a Socialist, think we should strive toward a Socialist society, all the way to Communism." Jane Fonda
""If you understood what Communism was, you would hope, you would pray on your knees that one day we would become Communist." (speaking to students at the University of Michigan in 1970)
"I wanted to do a tour like I did during the Vietnam War, a tour of the country. But then Cindy Sheehan filled in the gap, and she is better at this than I am. I carry too much baggage." - Jane Fonda
And finally, according to Wikipedia:
During her trip, Fonda made ten radio broadcasts in which she denounced American political and military leaders as "war criminals". Fonda has defended her decision to travel to North Vietnam and her radio broadcasts. Also during the course of her visit, Fonda visited American prisoners of war (POWs), and brought back messages from them to their families. When cases of torture began to emerge among POWs returning to the United States, Fonda called the returning POWs "hypocrites and liars". She added, "These were not men who had been tortured. These were not men who had been starved. These were not men who had been brainwashed." Later, on the subject of torture used during the Vietnam War, Fonda told The New York Times in 1973, "I'm quite sure that there were incidents of torture ... but the pilots who were saying it was the policy of the Vietnamese and that it was systematic, I believe that's a lie." Fonda further stated that the POWs were "military careerists and professional killers" who are "trying to make themselves look self-righteous, but they are war criminals according to the law".
Now she's spending her time crying over being dropped from QVC and never admitted what she did, writing an article claiming how everyone's lying and she's a great American.
Jane: Try spending your ass in a foxhole for a year with the enemy shooting at you. You are a traitor to every man and woman that fought in Vietnam, and to the rest of America, except your Cindy Sheehan idol. The world would be a better place with your face hidden behind a burqa.
"If I have to lay an egg for my country, I'll do it." - Bob Hope
In 1969, President Lyndon Johnson bestowed the Presidential Medal of Freedom upon Bob Hope for his service to the men and women of the armed forces through the USO.
In 1997, the USO successfully worked with Congress to designate Bob Hope the first honorary veteran of the U.S. armed forces.
"I guess I have my critics everywhere." – Bob Hope - In Saigon where a bomb went off at his hotel just before he checked in.
"If I had that kind of money, I wouldn't come to Vietnam, I'd send for it." – Bob Hope - Denying reports during a Christmas troop show in Saigon that he was worth $500 million.
As far as I can tell Jane Fonda went to Vietnam ONCE.
"I, a Socialist, think we should strive toward a Socialist society, all the way to Communism." Jane Fonda
""If you understood what Communism was, you would hope, you would pray on your knees that one day we would become Communist." (speaking to students at the University of Michigan in 1970)
"I wanted to do a tour like I did during the Vietnam War, a tour of the country. But then Cindy Sheehan filled in the gap, and she is better at this than I am. I carry too much baggage." - Jane Fonda
And finally, according to Wikipedia:
During her trip, Fonda made ten radio broadcasts in which she denounced American political and military leaders as "war criminals". Fonda has defended her decision to travel to North Vietnam and her radio broadcasts. Also during the course of her visit, Fonda visited American prisoners of war (POWs), and brought back messages from them to their families. When cases of torture began to emerge among POWs returning to the United States, Fonda called the returning POWs "hypocrites and liars". She added, "These were not men who had been tortured. These were not men who had been starved. These were not men who had been brainwashed." Later, on the subject of torture used during the Vietnam War, Fonda told The New York Times in 1973, "I'm quite sure that there were incidents of torture ... but the pilots who were saying it was the policy of the Vietnamese and that it was systematic, I believe that's a lie." Fonda further stated that the POWs were "military careerists and professional killers" who are "trying to make themselves look self-righteous, but they are war criminals according to the law".
Now she's spending her time crying over being dropped from QVC and never admitted what she did, writing an article claiming how everyone's lying and she's a great American.
Jane: Try spending your ass in a foxhole for a year with the enemy shooting at you. You are a traitor to every man and woman that fought in Vietnam, and to the rest of America, except your Cindy Sheehan idol. The world would be a better place with your face hidden behind a burqa.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Apparently Some Genes Can't Be Broken
My father was a mechanic. He was like alot of men. I've heard several wives who have husbands who paint for a living and won't paint at home, or they are handymen and won't fix the routine maintenance on their own home.
My dad repaired things, but not necessarily in the preferred fashion. He repaired our cars with whatever might be handy. I'm sure both my brothers could tell you the crazy things he did to keep our cars running.
So...my brother Mark loves to cook. I remember over 30 years ago when he lived in a trailer in our back yard he was making a chocolate cream pie. He didn't have a mixer, only a beater that would fit into a mixer. Don't ask my why he didn't walk 50 feet and go to our house and borrow a mixer, that is something that I'm sure Einstein himself couldn't answer.
Instead, He grabs his drill, takes off the drill bit and duct tapes the beater to the drill and proceeds to whip up his concoction. Tasted pretty good, I'll have to admit. Maybe the drill grease was a secret ingredient.
Several months ago, his garage door opener broke. Looking around his garage he found whatever was laying around, which happened to be parts of an ice maker.
You should have heard my husband laughing when he realized that my inventor brother had rigged parts of an ice maker to make his garage door opener continue to work. Don't ask me how. I'm sure somewhere there is an attorney that told ice maker makers to include warnings that say, "Ice maker parts should not be used to become a garage door opener" because some crazy person did it, was injured and sued. Bob liked to call him Rube Goldberg, which fits so well. And I won't EVEN go into why he installed a funnel in his garage, next to the sink, but I suppose only a man could figure out why.
Anyway to this day, my brother loves to cook, in fact does most of the cooking in his household. We routinely visit to partake of his chili, spaghetti, anything fixed in his smoker. He is really a very good cook.
So last fall, I invited my family to watch the Colts game and to let me know and I would fix some coney dogs. I also love to cook and there is something about football that seems to require coney dogs.
No one responded until my Einstein brother called about an hour and half before the game. I told him I would run and get some stuff to make us some coney dogs and I can hear my sister-in-law in the background screeching something.
Just so no one will get the wrong impression here, my family thrives on smart-a$$e$, so my sis-in-law fits right in.
Anyway, she is yelling so I can hear her, "Tell her that I don't want coney's, she puts too much meat into her coney sauce." Yes, she is very odd. Love her, but puhlease...who are you, Princess Diana? How do you have too much meat for a coney dog? I already had a turkey breast roasting in the oven, but I knew it wouldn't be done in time and besides, she got sick once on chicken and I figured I would probably have too much meat in the turkey breast.
So I am trying desperately (because I only want to please my family and would never think of serving my dear crazy sis-in-law, Lady Di too much meat in her coneys) trying to figure out something I can make in 30 minutes that will make her happy for at least the entire Colts game. I only want to keep her happy.
Mark and I finally decide I can make tacos and they will run past the store on their way over since I didn't have anything in the house.
Of course I am trying to figure out how to make tacos with not alot of meat, but I didn't fret over it too much.
They arrive with about 25 minutes to spare before the game begins
I fried up the taco MEAT. They brought some canned cheese sauce and refried beans along with chips and all the fixins.
I take the refried beans, open the can with a can opener and am about to scoop out the refried beans into a microwavable bowl when my poor-man's inventor brother takes the can. He turns it upside down over the bowl and I see him grabbing my good knife that I had on the counter. This is not a Wal-Mart $5.99 knife, this was a GOOD set of knives I paid a dime-shy of a fortune for.
I have an immediate flashback to my dad. Back when countertops had metal edges, my dad and his buddies used the metal edge to pop off the caps of beer bottles.
I could see what he was going to do and was yelling NO NO NO. Short of sticking my hand between the can and the knife, there was no stopping what was about to happen.
My genius brother did what my family used to do to get dog food out of the can. After opening one end, you "release" the vacuum by stabbing the bottom of the can with a knife so you can just shake out the contents. I'm pretty sure you could get the same affect by simply using the can opening on the bottom side. Personally, I just use a spatula to get stuff out of a can.
Did I mention that I love my knives?
I watch him, screaming like I was Julia Roberts in Sleeping With The Enemy while he stabs the bottom of the can. He was lucky I didn't have a gun.
I grabbed my abused knife out of his hand while he is laughing at me and inspect it like I'm a genetic scientist. Since I didn't have a microscope handy, I couldn't see any permanent damage, although I'm sure it's there lurking, waiting until I want to slice a tomato.
I did what came naturally. I slapped him hard on the shoulder. And the closest shoulder was the one which had just been operated on a couple weeks ago and is still in a sling.
Hey, his shoulder will heal, my knife won't.
My dad repaired things, but not necessarily in the preferred fashion. He repaired our cars with whatever might be handy. I'm sure both my brothers could tell you the crazy things he did to keep our cars running.
So...my brother Mark loves to cook. I remember over 30 years ago when he lived in a trailer in our back yard he was making a chocolate cream pie. He didn't have a mixer, only a beater that would fit into a mixer. Don't ask my why he didn't walk 50 feet and go to our house and borrow a mixer, that is something that I'm sure Einstein himself couldn't answer.
Instead, He grabs his drill, takes off the drill bit and duct tapes the beater to the drill and proceeds to whip up his concoction. Tasted pretty good, I'll have to admit. Maybe the drill grease was a secret ingredient.
Several months ago, his garage door opener broke. Looking around his garage he found whatever was laying around, which happened to be parts of an ice maker.
You should have heard my husband laughing when he realized that my inventor brother had rigged parts of an ice maker to make his garage door opener continue to work. Don't ask me how. I'm sure somewhere there is an attorney that told ice maker makers to include warnings that say, "Ice maker parts should not be used to become a garage door opener" because some crazy person did it, was injured and sued. Bob liked to call him Rube Goldberg, which fits so well. And I won't EVEN go into why he installed a funnel in his garage, next to the sink, but I suppose only a man could figure out why.
Anyway to this day, my brother loves to cook, in fact does most of the cooking in his household. We routinely visit to partake of his chili, spaghetti, anything fixed in his smoker. He is really a very good cook.
So last fall, I invited my family to watch the Colts game and to let me know and I would fix some coney dogs. I also love to cook and there is something about football that seems to require coney dogs.
No one responded until my Einstein brother called about an hour and half before the game. I told him I would run and get some stuff to make us some coney dogs and I can hear my sister-in-law in the background screeching something.
Just so no one will get the wrong impression here, my family thrives on smart-a$$e$, so my sis-in-law fits right in.
Anyway, she is yelling so I can hear her, "Tell her that I don't want coney's, she puts too much meat into her coney sauce." Yes, she is very odd. Love her, but puhlease...who are you, Princess Diana? How do you have too much meat for a coney dog? I already had a turkey breast roasting in the oven, but I knew it wouldn't be done in time and besides, she got sick once on chicken and I figured I would probably have too much meat in the turkey breast.
So I am trying desperately (because I only want to please my family and would never think of serving my dear crazy sis-in-law, Lady Di too much meat in her coneys) trying to figure out something I can make in 30 minutes that will make her happy for at least the entire Colts game. I only want to keep her happy.
Mark and I finally decide I can make tacos and they will run past the store on their way over since I didn't have anything in the house.
Of course I am trying to figure out how to make tacos with not alot of meat, but I didn't fret over it too much.
They arrive with about 25 minutes to spare before the game begins
I fried up the taco MEAT. They brought some canned cheese sauce and refried beans along with chips and all the fixins.
I take the refried beans, open the can with a can opener and am about to scoop out the refried beans into a microwavable bowl when my poor-man's inventor brother takes the can. He turns it upside down over the bowl and I see him grabbing my good knife that I had on the counter. This is not a Wal-Mart $5.99 knife, this was a GOOD set of knives I paid a dime-shy of a fortune for.
I have an immediate flashback to my dad. Back when countertops had metal edges, my dad and his buddies used the metal edge to pop off the caps of beer bottles.
I could see what he was going to do and was yelling NO NO NO. Short of sticking my hand between the can and the knife, there was no stopping what was about to happen.
My genius brother did what my family used to do to get dog food out of the can. After opening one end, you "release" the vacuum by stabbing the bottom of the can with a knife so you can just shake out the contents. I'm pretty sure you could get the same affect by simply using the can opening on the bottom side. Personally, I just use a spatula to get stuff out of a can.
Did I mention that I love my knives?
I watch him, screaming like I was Julia Roberts in Sleeping With The Enemy while he stabs the bottom of the can. He was lucky I didn't have a gun.
I grabbed my abused knife out of his hand while he is laughing at me and inspect it like I'm a genetic scientist. Since I didn't have a microscope handy, I couldn't see any permanent damage, although I'm sure it's there lurking, waiting until I want to slice a tomato.
I did what came naturally. I slapped him hard on the shoulder. And the closest shoulder was the one which had just been operated on a couple weeks ago and is still in a sling.
Hey, his shoulder will heal, my knife won't.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Best quote for our Independence
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Yuck
First, Rumbles has been complaining at me for not completing our next He Said She Said. All I will tell you is that it's the "Oh Dear Toe" edition, mine's half done.
Second, Bobby gave me his cold/throat/whateveryuckthing he had last week. Yuck.
Third, As of Monday I'll be officially out of work for three weeks. Our client needed to suspend my consulting services "for about two months". While it was was nice to hear, "you'll be the first one will call back", they also knew I wouldn't wait around for two months. I hope their business does well because I was really enjoying myself. Got tons of great feedback and hugs on my way out the door. Have some good/great/so-so leads, but nothing solid yet. BIG YUCK.
Now for the good stuff.
Two weekend ago we had a great time at the CMA Fest in Nashville TN. Had great seats and lots of fun. Greatest Country Music weekend that exists.
Last weekend, Rumbles became a grandpa for the first time. I have a gorgeous new nephew. Congrats Rumbles.
This weekend, my "Texas Daughter" is coming back to visit with her husband and twins girls. We had a great time last year and I can't wait to see my granddaughters again. As I've said numerous times, not all families are created by biology. She's been teaching them to say, "Grandma Rita". I've been slaving over preparing my world famous chicken and noodles for their surprise. Feeling lousy today, but I managed to get alot of the broth done. They'll be staying until Wednesday morning, so spent the morning grocery shopping and trying to plan a menu. Bobby's cold thingy only lasted four days, so hopefully I'll be over it by the time they get here. I plan on Lysol'ing everything down before they get here.
Next weekend is Fourth of July, hopefully having friends over one day and a late birthday party to go to for my granddaughter's fifth birthday.
And if I'm not employed soon I WILL GO INSANE. Never lost two jobs in one year before, but I need to get a grip on this "Consulting" life. Love the freedom, but my first gig lasting four years lulled me into a false sense of security.
Second, Bobby gave me his cold/throat/whateveryuckthing he had last week. Yuck.
Third, As of Monday I'll be officially out of work for three weeks. Our client needed to suspend my consulting services "for about two months". While it was was nice to hear, "you'll be the first one will call back", they also knew I wouldn't wait around for two months. I hope their business does well because I was really enjoying myself. Got tons of great feedback and hugs on my way out the door. Have some good/great/so-so leads, but nothing solid yet. BIG YUCK.
Now for the good stuff.
Two weekend ago we had a great time at the CMA Fest in Nashville TN. Had great seats and lots of fun. Greatest Country Music weekend that exists.
Last weekend, Rumbles became a grandpa for the first time. I have a gorgeous new nephew. Congrats Rumbles.
This weekend, my "Texas Daughter" is coming back to visit with her husband and twins girls. We had a great time last year and I can't wait to see my granddaughters again. As I've said numerous times, not all families are created by biology. She's been teaching them to say, "Grandma Rita". I've been slaving over preparing my world famous chicken and noodles for their surprise. Feeling lousy today, but I managed to get alot of the broth done. They'll be staying until Wednesday morning, so spent the morning grocery shopping and trying to plan a menu. Bobby's cold thingy only lasted four days, so hopefully I'll be over it by the time they get here. I plan on Lysol'ing everything down before they get here.
Next weekend is Fourth of July, hopefully having friends over one day and a late birthday party to go to for my granddaughter's fifth birthday.
And if I'm not employed soon I WILL GO INSANE. Never lost two jobs in one year before, but I need to get a grip on this "Consulting" life. Love the freedom, but my first gig lasting four years lulled me into a false sense of security.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Apparently it's Legal
But this woman is nothing more than a high-paid prostitute. I don't care WHO she's representing.
Just sayin'.
Just sayin'.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
RIP Marshall Dillon [He Said, She Said] Part 3
This week one of America's most infamous cowboys passed away. For those of us lucky "oldsters" we remember fondly James Arness' character of the gun slinging Marshall Dillon on Gunsmoke.
Interestingly enough, "He Said" and I decided we would tell our own story of the Wild Wild West days before our beloved Marshall Dillon passed away this week.
Well it wasn't EXACTLY like the Wild Wild West, but it did involve two drunk idiots flinging themselves through the bar's swinging doors and an even wilder tale. All I can tell you was at least there wasn't a duel at the end of the night.
I was twenty years old, so I was too young in the state of Indiana to even enter a bar. For reasons I don't remember, my sister, her husband, my brother Rumbles and his not-quite-yet first wife decided to go to his favorite place to hang out. It was called the Benchmark Inn, a local bar. Back in those days, Rumbles never let a bar seat get lonely at the Benchmark. Four of us stayed in the family area, while Rumbles went through the swinging bar doors (YES, they really were swinging bar doors) and sat down next one of his favorite drinking buddies we called Wormy. Rumbles and Wormy were already "well oiled" you might say, a state of intoxication (or something worse) was never far away.
I think I recall that we ordered dinner while sitting out in the family room. Suddenly there was some loud ruckus coming from the bar area. It wasn't difficult back then to do simple math. Just as 1 + 1 always equaled 2, Rumbles + Bar always equaled Ruckus.
Of course the four of us knew immediately that Rumbles was getting himself into a big bar fight. I'm sure it certainly wasn't his first, but it was the first where I was ever in close proximity. All of us went running toward the bar doors when they flung open and in true Wild West fashion, out came two drunks fighting. To be honest, I wouldn't EXACTLY say it was a fight, since that would imply fists. They were more accurately performing very aggressive "hugging". (Who wants to bet Rumbles takes more offense to THAT term than any other in the story?) Cue the sound of crickets here Mark.
As the two idiots swung through the doors, they were followed by the other bar sitters, all just standing by as the dingbats hugged there way to the floor. No one, NO ONE was even attempting to break up the fight.
Our group was yelling for them to stop. As was custom for her, my sister decided to act. She acted like she always did in a family emergency. She PANICKED. Screaming like a banshee.
In the meantime, I was po'd the other drunk bar men did not even attempt to break up the fight, which by then had become a lovefest of two straight men rolling around on the floor together.
Since no one was accomplishing anything, I grabbed my brother's pant leg and began to PULL. Trying to get them separated. I probably weighed all of 95 pounds back then, but I wasn't going to sit back and do nothing.
After a few good yanks on his pants, I had pulled them hard enough. NO, I did not manage to pull his pants OFF although that would have probably made for a better story. I had pulled them hard enough to dislodge a freakin' GUN he had stuffed in his waistband.
Sorry Mom, but there can just be no way that this idiot brother and I share a common set of biological parents. OH WAIT, that's right. I forgot about Dad's propensity to behave this way when he was young. Nevermind.
With seeing the gun bouncing along the floor, I suddenly decided I would let my brother explore his sexual preferences with the man on the floor. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
I let go of his pant leg, grabbed up the gun and moved away from the lover's quarrel.
I was hiding the gun in my purse so I didn't see how the lovefest finally broke up. While my back was turned, the fighting stopped. It could have stopped because my screaming panicked sister started screaming, "I'll call the cops, I'll call the cops, I'LL CALL THE COPS".
The next thing I remember is that Miss Calm continues to scream and starts to hyperventilate. She collapses in the middle of the family dining area floor while everyone now stands around her. Rumbles was standing next to me and I remember grabbing his arm and pointing at our now-feral sister still screaming away and I said to him, " THIS is what you are doing to your family." For some strange reason I don't think he liked that too much.
He went storming off and I knelt down by my sister. Some strange guy was kneeling next to me and I tapped him on the shoulder and asked him to find me a paper bag.
In the meantime, my brother-in-law is doing what he does in a family crisis. He was pretty much ignoring the whole event. Although he did manage to inject a bit of humor. While his wife lay screaming on the floor, he stands there, draws back his fist and says, "Get up and I'll hit you again." as if he had slugged her a good one.
Yes, I AM the only normal one in the family. Thanks for asking.
When everything had calmed down, we left the Benchmark as they were closing the doors. I left with my sister and brother-in-law and we agreed that we would keep this entire story to ourselves, not tell Mom or Dad so they would not worry. I hid the gun far far back in my bedroom closet.
Rumbles, not realizing we had NOT ratted him out answered a simple, innocent question from our Mom a few days later and ratted himself out, telling her the whole story because he thought she already knew. I figure THAT was the best revenge for his stupidity.
Whenever we talked about the incident with the gun, Rumbles stupidly claims, "I would have never used it." And I add, "I believe you, BUT you did not know if the other guy would have!!!!"
Thank Sweet Jesus that Rumbles had a religious conversion on that same bar stool a few short years later when he had just pulled another stupid stunt which he thought for sure was going to land him in jail. He said of that incident that when he sat on that bar stool he prayed, "Jesus, if you get me out of this situation, you'll never have to ever get me out of another one." I watched my brother that next day outside after the second incident, working on his bike and listening to GOSPEL music. He didn't touch a drop for years after that.
And there have been no swinging bar doors with my brother in the middle of a bar fight since.
Well, none that I'm aware of anyway.
Interestingly enough, "He Said" and I decided we would tell our own story of the Wild Wild West days before our beloved Marshall Dillon passed away this week.
Well it wasn't EXACTLY like the Wild Wild West, but it did involve two drunk idiots flinging themselves through the bar's swinging doors and an even wilder tale. All I can tell you was at least there wasn't a duel at the end of the night.
I was twenty years old, so I was too young in the state of Indiana to even enter a bar. For reasons I don't remember, my sister, her husband, my brother Rumbles and his not-quite-yet first wife decided to go to his favorite place to hang out. It was called the Benchmark Inn, a local bar. Back in those days, Rumbles never let a bar seat get lonely at the Benchmark. Four of us stayed in the family area, while Rumbles went through the swinging bar doors (YES, they really were swinging bar doors) and sat down next one of his favorite drinking buddies we called Wormy. Rumbles and Wormy were already "well oiled" you might say, a state of intoxication (or something worse) was never far away.
I think I recall that we ordered dinner while sitting out in the family room. Suddenly there was some loud ruckus coming from the bar area. It wasn't difficult back then to do simple math. Just as 1 + 1 always equaled 2, Rumbles + Bar always equaled Ruckus.
Of course the four of us knew immediately that Rumbles was getting himself into a big bar fight. I'm sure it certainly wasn't his first, but it was the first where I was ever in close proximity. All of us went running toward the bar doors when they flung open and in true Wild West fashion, out came two drunks fighting. To be honest, I wouldn't EXACTLY say it was a fight, since that would imply fists. They were more accurately performing very aggressive "hugging". (Who wants to bet Rumbles takes more offense to THAT term than any other in the story?) Cue the sound of crickets here Mark.
As the two idiots swung through the doors, they were followed by the other bar sitters, all just standing by as the dingbats hugged there way to the floor. No one, NO ONE was even attempting to break up the fight.
Our group was yelling for them to stop. As was custom for her, my sister decided to act. She acted like she always did in a family emergency. She PANICKED. Screaming like a banshee.
In the meantime, I was po'd the other drunk bar men did not even attempt to break up the fight, which by then had become a lovefest of two straight men rolling around on the floor together.
Since no one was accomplishing anything, I grabbed my brother's pant leg and began to PULL. Trying to get them separated. I probably weighed all of 95 pounds back then, but I wasn't going to sit back and do nothing.
After a few good yanks on his pants, I had pulled them hard enough. NO, I did not manage to pull his pants OFF although that would have probably made for a better story. I had pulled them hard enough to dislodge a freakin' GUN he had stuffed in his waistband.
Sorry Mom, but there can just be no way that this idiot brother and I share a common set of biological parents. OH WAIT, that's right. I forgot about Dad's propensity to behave this way when he was young. Nevermind.
With seeing the gun bouncing along the floor, I suddenly decided I would let my brother explore his sexual preferences with the man on the floor. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
I let go of his pant leg, grabbed up the gun and moved away from the lover's quarrel.
I was hiding the gun in my purse so I didn't see how the lovefest finally broke up. While my back was turned, the fighting stopped. It could have stopped because my screaming panicked sister started screaming, "I'll call the cops, I'll call the cops, I'LL CALL THE COPS".
The next thing I remember is that Miss Calm continues to scream and starts to hyperventilate. She collapses in the middle of the family dining area floor while everyone now stands around her. Rumbles was standing next to me and I remember grabbing his arm and pointing at our now-feral sister still screaming away and I said to him, " THIS is what you are doing to your family." For some strange reason I don't think he liked that too much.
He went storming off and I knelt down by my sister. Some strange guy was kneeling next to me and I tapped him on the shoulder and asked him to find me a paper bag.
In the meantime, my brother-in-law is doing what he does in a family crisis. He was pretty much ignoring the whole event. Although he did manage to inject a bit of humor. While his wife lay screaming on the floor, he stands there, draws back his fist and says, "Get up and I'll hit you again." as if he had slugged her a good one.
Yes, I AM the only normal one in the family. Thanks for asking.
When everything had calmed down, we left the Benchmark as they were closing the doors. I left with my sister and brother-in-law and we agreed that we would keep this entire story to ourselves, not tell Mom or Dad so they would not worry. I hid the gun far far back in my bedroom closet.
Rumbles, not realizing we had NOT ratted him out answered a simple, innocent question from our Mom a few days later and ratted himself out, telling her the whole story because he thought she already knew. I figure THAT was the best revenge for his stupidity.
Whenever we talked about the incident with the gun, Rumbles stupidly claims, "I would have never used it." And I add, "I believe you, BUT you did not know if the other guy would have!!!!"
Thank Sweet Jesus that Rumbles had a religious conversion on that same bar stool a few short years later when he had just pulled another stupid stunt which he thought for sure was going to land him in jail. He said of that incident that when he sat on that bar stool he prayed, "Jesus, if you get me out of this situation, you'll never have to ever get me out of another one." I watched my brother that next day outside after the second incident, working on his bike and listening to GOSPEL music. He didn't touch a drop for years after that.
And there have been no swinging bar doors with my brother in the middle of a bar fight since.
Well, none that I'm aware of anyway.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Sunday, May 29, 2011
And the Smell of Sunday Supper on the Table
I heard it before I saw it. It sounded just like a blow torch and not a sound you would expect to hear at the dinner table.
I was pretty young, probably under 7 and it was a Sunday afternoon. Mom was fixing dinner and I was in the kitchen with her. I don’t know where the rest of the kids were, but I’d make a bet they were off stirring up trouble somewhere.
Dad came rushing in from the garage where he had been working on a car. Having grown up in the 30’s with 10 other kids, he wasn’t exactly raised to be one of those “touchy-feely” fathers. Pretty much after the age of four, you didn’t get hugs and the first time I remember my father telling me he loved me (back) was on his death bed when I was 32 years old. He had finally started returning hugs only a month or two before that, knowing that the liver cancer was going to do him in.
So, Dad was the kind of man you would describe as being a strict parent. He believed in lectures and strong discipline when raising kids. That can be misinterpreted when you’re growing up and so it was with Dad. He wielded a strong hand or belt when he felt someone needed it. Or a lecture, if you were lucky. Mark was usually the “lucky participant” of the majority of the lessons, mainly because he was not smart enough to keep out of trouble or his mouth shut.
But I digress.
So Dad comes running into the kitchen and turns on the faucet and begins to vigorously wash his mouth with the well water. When he could finally speak he told Mom what had happened. Apparently while working on our car, he had siphoned some of the gas out into a BEER BOTTLE. Then forgetting that the beer bottle next to him wasn’t beer, he swigged a big gulp of the gasoline. I remember being a little afraid. I wasn’t quite old enough to know how serious it might be, but I could sense his bit of panic when washing his mouth out.
An hour or so later, the six of us sat down for Sunday dinner. Only mom and I knew what had happened with the gas/beer chugging. Dad didn’t like tomatoes or spaghetti, so I don’t really remember what he was eating, but the all of us grubby kids were slurping our spaghetti. Dad always finished eating before the rest of us and that day he did what he always did when he was done eating.
He grabbed a cigarette out of his pocket, lit it and then proceeded to blow out the match, breathing a three foot flame of gasoline fumes across the table.
Yep, THAT was the flame thrower sound. Mom and I knew why it happened, but the other kids thought it was that nightmare we all probably had after one of Dad’s discipline exercises. To them, I’m sure it seemed like he really WAS that fire breathing dragon. It was instant chaos. I think I started crying; Mark sat there in sheer terror, probably thinking Dad had figured out something Mark had done wrong (again) and he was about to catch holy hell. Helen stood up in panic, putting both hands down on the table, one in Michael’s plate of spaghetti, neatly cutting it all in bite-sized pieces for him. I don’t remember what Michael did, probably because Michael never seemed to do anything.
It was a Sunday dinner none of us will ever forget. You could say it has been “burned into our memory.”
I was pretty young, probably under 7 and it was a Sunday afternoon. Mom was fixing dinner and I was in the kitchen with her. I don’t know where the rest of the kids were, but I’d make a bet they were off stirring up trouble somewhere.
Dad came rushing in from the garage where he had been working on a car. Having grown up in the 30’s with 10 other kids, he wasn’t exactly raised to be one of those “touchy-feely” fathers. Pretty much after the age of four, you didn’t get hugs and the first time I remember my father telling me he loved me (back) was on his death bed when I was 32 years old. He had finally started returning hugs only a month or two before that, knowing that the liver cancer was going to do him in.
So, Dad was the kind of man you would describe as being a strict parent. He believed in lectures and strong discipline when raising kids. That can be misinterpreted when you’re growing up and so it was with Dad. He wielded a strong hand or belt when he felt someone needed it. Or a lecture, if you were lucky. Mark was usually the “lucky participant” of the majority of the lessons, mainly because he was not smart enough to keep out of trouble or his mouth shut.
But I digress.
So Dad comes running into the kitchen and turns on the faucet and begins to vigorously wash his mouth with the well water. When he could finally speak he told Mom what had happened. Apparently while working on our car, he had siphoned some of the gas out into a BEER BOTTLE. Then forgetting that the beer bottle next to him wasn’t beer, he swigged a big gulp of the gasoline. I remember being a little afraid. I wasn’t quite old enough to know how serious it might be, but I could sense his bit of panic when washing his mouth out.
An hour or so later, the six of us sat down for Sunday dinner. Only mom and I knew what had happened with the gas/beer chugging. Dad didn’t like tomatoes or spaghetti, so I don’t really remember what he was eating, but the all of us grubby kids were slurping our spaghetti. Dad always finished eating before the rest of us and that day he did what he always did when he was done eating.
He grabbed a cigarette out of his pocket, lit it and then proceeded to blow out the match, breathing a three foot flame of gasoline fumes across the table.
Yep, THAT was the flame thrower sound. Mom and I knew why it happened, but the other kids thought it was that nightmare we all probably had after one of Dad’s discipline exercises. To them, I’m sure it seemed like he really WAS that fire breathing dragon. It was instant chaos. I think I started crying; Mark sat there in sheer terror, probably thinking Dad had figured out something Mark had done wrong (again) and he was about to catch holy hell. Helen stood up in panic, putting both hands down on the table, one in Michael’s plate of spaghetti, neatly cutting it all in bite-sized pieces for him. I don’t remember what Michael did, probably because Michael never seemed to do anything.
It was a Sunday dinner none of us will ever forget. You could say it has been “burned into our memory.”
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Tornados all around Indiana tonight
And getting another wave of scary storms. WHAT THE HECK is going on with this scary weather for days and days on end?
Sunday, May 22, 2011
He Said - She Said - Of course SHE's RIGHT.
Thinking back, all I can tell you was that I was a precious child, full of love and sweetness, always willing to do anything for my brothers and sister. When I came along, my sister was six, one brother five, and the other four.
And they never let me forget it. They were abusive siblings, always picking on me, but I endured their torture graciously and never held their meanness against them. My parents tried to protect me, mainly from my brother Mark. Their method of protection was telling Helen (who was one mean girl) that if Mark hit me she could hit him. How did she handle her newfound authority? By saying (when my parents weren’t around), “Hit her Mark. Hit her.” If he even came close she could beat the hell out of him.
See? They all conspired against me. It’s sad really. Such a sweet child being so abused.
But I forgave them and ultimately won them over with my saintly demeanor.
Well, at least this is how I remember those years. I’m sure someone else might have a different opinion, but they would be wrong, of course.
Since there might actually be a differing account of the events in our lives, my brother (the meanest one) and I have decided to start a “He Said, She Said” series. We’ll post about events in our lives and see how different or alike our versions are.
So look for our series of He Said, She Said. But remember, that my recollection will be factual and Mark’s (Rumbles) might be skewed.
But to set the final record straight, my memory of the abuse I suffered might be just a bit exaggerated to gain the sympathetic vote. If I remember right, I was pretty good at using that when we were little.
Rumbles and I are blessed with a wonderful family. I rarely find others are so lucky. Sure we fought like other kids did, but every year all of us became closer and closer. We spend wonderful times together. But more importantly, we are there for each other, we stick together and we face hard times together and celebrate good times with gusto. No one has my back as much as the people in my family. And I have theirs.
I wish everyone else could be so lucky. So check out what “He Said” over at Rumbles from the Vent.
Just look at the love I have for my big brother. Even if he can't remember to keep his pants zipped.
The only thing I did wrong my entire life was ruining their Three Stooges routine.
And they never let me forget it. They were abusive siblings, always picking on me, but I endured their torture graciously and never held their meanness against them. My parents tried to protect me, mainly from my brother Mark. Their method of protection was telling Helen (who was one mean girl) that if Mark hit me she could hit him. How did she handle her newfound authority? By saying (when my parents weren’t around), “Hit her Mark. Hit her.” If he even came close she could beat the hell out of him.
See? They all conspired against me. It’s sad really. Such a sweet child being so abused.
But I forgave them and ultimately won them over with my saintly demeanor.
Well, at least this is how I remember those years. I’m sure someone else might have a different opinion, but they would be wrong, of course.
Since there might actually be a differing account of the events in our lives, my brother (the meanest one) and I have decided to start a “He Said, She Said” series. We’ll post about events in our lives and see how different or alike our versions are.
So look for our series of He Said, She Said. But remember, that my recollection will be factual and Mark’s (Rumbles) might be skewed. But to set the final record straight, my memory of the abuse I suffered might be just a bit exaggerated to gain the sympathetic vote. If I remember right, I was pretty good at using that when we were little.
Rumbles and I are blessed with a wonderful family. I rarely find others are so lucky. Sure we fought like other kids did, but every year all of us became closer and closer. We spend wonderful times together. But more importantly, we are there for each other, we stick together and we face hard times together and celebrate good times with gusto. No one has my back as much as the people in my family. And I have theirs.
I wish everyone else could be so lucky. So check out what “He Said” over at Rumbles from the Vent.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Does this make me an Intellect?
At my new consulting position recently I've had two of the executives express their excitement about my work documenting processes. Both, in separate conversations have said that I'm creating "Intellectual Property" that is extremely valuable for the company.
Here's why this post is not boasting of my amazing ability. While my outward reaction to their compliments has been appreciative and humble, I am inside stifling a burst of laughter. If I was honest I would describe my job as picking up crayons and drawing colorful pictures with lines and geometric shapes. But I'm using Visio to do that.
Here's an example so you can see for yourself.
Click on the picture to be in awe of my work.
After I'm done coloring, I write down the process in such simple terms that they could hire my 9-year-old grandson to do the job and he'd be bored instantly. Things like this:
The injury process only begins when a patient is injured. The patient telephones the doctor's office and the Staff answers the telephone. The Staff schedules an office visit with the Physician and the Patient notes the date and time of the appointment. The Patient goes to the Physician and the Physician examines the Patient's injury. (See, if I'm not clear here, there could be confusion and the Patient might end up examining the Physician's foot. This may seem like a far fetched example, but believe me, I have heard of stranger things happening. Anyway, back to the Intellectual Property narrative)
The Physician amputates the foot and attaches a wheel. The Patient then rolls home.
When I get done coloring pretty pictures and writing the process in a third grade level, I hold a meeting to get the official executive approval of the document. I use words like "illustrate" and "narrative" and that makes me sound smart.
Don't you wish you had my skill set?
OK, now I'll add a little bit of explanation as to why this apparently IS a skill set worth paying for.
Obviously this is not the kind of process I am documenting. Some are very complex and I work with great people who have years of experience in their field and all of the processes and ideas are only in their heads.
My skill set isn't playing with crayons and writing in third grade vocabulary. My skill set is communication and extracting the years of knowledge the professionals have in their DNA out of their mouths and into my fingertips so I can break it down into simple tasks in plain English and present it all in a nice professional looking document. The professionals do not possess the skill set to take their vast knowledge and break it down into simple step-by-step processes. They can't look at the process from an outsider's view and since I know nothing about their business, I can only understand the process if I break it down to a elementary level. So, you could say my skill set is thinking like a grade schooler.
The executives then get to take that document, that "Intellectual Property" to the Board, to Investors and to the Clients. Ultimately, the document creates (or it should) an impression that the company is professional and organized. They know their business and they can prove it to you. While it seems funny to me, that really IS Intellectual Property.
You can bet I'm adding my ability to create Intellectual Property will be included on my resume from now on. Even if it does feel like I do nothing all day except color pretty pictures.
Here's why this post is not boasting of my amazing ability. While my outward reaction to their compliments has been appreciative and humble, I am inside stifling a burst of laughter. If I was honest I would describe my job as picking up crayons and drawing colorful pictures with lines and geometric shapes. But I'm using Visio to do that.
Here's an example so you can see for yourself.
Click on the picture to be in awe of my work.
After I'm done coloring, I write down the process in such simple terms that they could hire my 9-year-old grandson to do the job and he'd be bored instantly. Things like this:
The injury process only begins when a patient is injured. The patient telephones the doctor's office and the Staff answers the telephone. The Staff schedules an office visit with the Physician and the Patient notes the date and time of the appointment. The Patient goes to the Physician and the Physician examines the Patient's injury. (See, if I'm not clear here, there could be confusion and the Patient might end up examining the Physician's foot. This may seem like a far fetched example, but believe me, I have heard of stranger things happening. Anyway, back to the Intellectual Property narrative)
The Physician amputates the foot and attaches a wheel. The Patient then rolls home.
When I get done coloring pretty pictures and writing the process in a third grade level, I hold a meeting to get the official executive approval of the document. I use words like "illustrate" and "narrative" and that makes me sound smart.
Don't you wish you had my skill set?
OK, now I'll add a little bit of explanation as to why this apparently IS a skill set worth paying for.
Obviously this is not the kind of process I am documenting. Some are very complex and I work with great people who have years of experience in their field and all of the processes and ideas are only in their heads.
My skill set isn't playing with crayons and writing in third grade vocabulary. My skill set is communication and extracting the years of knowledge the professionals have in their DNA out of their mouths and into my fingertips so I can break it down into simple tasks in plain English and present it all in a nice professional looking document. The professionals do not possess the skill set to take their vast knowledge and break it down into simple step-by-step processes. They can't look at the process from an outsider's view and since I know nothing about their business, I can only understand the process if I break it down to a elementary level. So, you could say my skill set is thinking like a grade schooler.
The executives then get to take that document, that "Intellectual Property" to the Board, to Investors and to the Clients. Ultimately, the document creates (or it should) an impression that the company is professional and organized. They know their business and they can prove it to you. While it seems funny to me, that really IS Intellectual Property.
You can bet I'm adding my ability to create Intellectual Property will be included on my resume from now on. Even if it does feel like I do nothing all day except color pretty pictures.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Indy's Busy Weekend
This weekend it's all about this.....
Qualifications. Which, to be honest has lost it's fanatical appeal of bygone days. The split between the IRL and and CART in the mid '90s left the race with quite a bit of fall out. Most of the recognizable names were no longer racing at Indy. Only A.J. Foyt was loyal to the organization that made racing.
Arrogantly, Mario Andretti, splitting with CART had the nerve to say that the Indy 500 was world renown because of HIM.
Although the organizations have long ago reunited, Indy will not forget Mario's traitorious comments. Indy made household names of these racers, not the other way around.
Also flying overhead this weekend are the best of the best.
These guys are amazing. The sound of the jets as they fly mere inches from wingtip to wingtip will make your heart stop. Don't worry about your little ol' heart though, because the electrical shock to make it restart will happen when you get a quick glimpse of them flying at breakneck speeds and so low that if you stand on your tiptoes you could swear you could touch them. But do it quick, because they are flying so fast you'll miss them if you blink.
Nothing beats the thrill of hearing them just before they appear. I run out of the front door at the first sound and watch them from my front yard. There have been dozens of times that they have flown so low over our house that if the pilots could take their eyes off their instruments, they could wave at me when I'm out front waving my arms like I'm trying to flag them down to stop in for a cup of tea. Or a beer after their done flying.
It never gets old.
Qualifications. Which, to be honest has lost it's fanatical appeal of bygone days. The split between the IRL and and CART in the mid '90s left the race with quite a bit of fall out. Most of the recognizable names were no longer racing at Indy. Only A.J. Foyt was loyal to the organization that made racing.
Arrogantly, Mario Andretti, splitting with CART had the nerve to say that the Indy 500 was world renown because of HIM.
Although the organizations have long ago reunited, Indy will not forget Mario's traitorious comments. Indy made household names of these racers, not the other way around.
Also flying overhead this weekend are the best of the best.
These guys are amazing. The sound of the jets as they fly mere inches from wingtip to wingtip will make your heart stop. Don't worry about your little ol' heart though, because the electrical shock to make it restart will happen when you get a quick glimpse of them flying at breakneck speeds and so low that if you stand on your tiptoes you could swear you could touch them. But do it quick, because they are flying so fast you'll miss them if you blink.
Nothing beats the thrill of hearing them just before they appear. I run out of the front door at the first sound and watch them from my front yard. There have been dozens of times that they have flown so low over our house that if the pilots could take their eyes off their instruments, they could wave at me when I'm out front waving my arms like I'm trying to flag them down to stop in for a cup of tea. Or a beer after their done flying.
It never gets old.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Like a Rock
Twenty years ago tonight I slept in my newly built house with so many of my relatives that most of them slept on the floor. Several more were sleeping at my parents' home getting ready for the next day's events.
It would be the last night I spent the house that I had only moved into eight months prior.
I don't recall any great details of that next morning. Only getting dressed at the church, a few tears, my father walking me down the aisle. I'm pretty sure THIS time he was happy to be escorting me to my new life with Bob. I remember standing around the corner when dad pointed out that Bob could see me. I ducked back around. And even though it was not a Catholic church, the organist played Ave Maria while we waited. It struck a chord in my long-ago Catholic roots.
I remember it being a very short but very sweet wedding. And one where I had no doubt I was walking into my future.
The road between here and there had such unexpected turns. Less than a year later, my father lay dying of liver cancer. I spent our second anniversary at the funeral of what had once been my favorite aunt, the one I was named after.
Yes there have been terrific heartaches and yet wonderful highs. The good Lord has blessed us with wonderful grandbabies and sweet memories. We have great families who can lift our spirits and sweet friends that are more like family.
Last year we had plans to go away on a great trip for our 20th, but the timing was just not with us. So tomorrow, I'll head off to work, Bob will take his dad to the VA and we'll just keep on keeping on.
If someone flipped a switch and I was waking up in my old house, knowing today what I didn't know then..... Yes, I would do it all over again. Heartaches and disappointment be damned. We'll be soon settling into our "twilight" years and the future looks even brighter.
Happy Anniversary Bobby. The next twenty will be even better than the first twenty.
"Twenty years now, where'd they go? Twenty years. I don't know. I sit and I wonder sometimes, where they've gone."
It would be the last night I spent the house that I had only moved into eight months prior.
I don't recall any great details of that next morning. Only getting dressed at the church, a few tears, my father walking me down the aisle. I'm pretty sure THIS time he was happy to be escorting me to my new life with Bob. I remember standing around the corner when dad pointed out that Bob could see me. I ducked back around. And even though it was not a Catholic church, the organist played Ave Maria while we waited. It struck a chord in my long-ago Catholic roots.
I remember it being a very short but very sweet wedding. And one where I had no doubt I was walking into my future.
The road between here and there had such unexpected turns. Less than a year later, my father lay dying of liver cancer. I spent our second anniversary at the funeral of what had once been my favorite aunt, the one I was named after.
Yes there have been terrific heartaches and yet wonderful highs. The good Lord has blessed us with wonderful grandbabies and sweet memories. We have great families who can lift our spirits and sweet friends that are more like family.
Last year we had plans to go away on a great trip for our 20th, but the timing was just not with us. So tomorrow, I'll head off to work, Bob will take his dad to the VA and we'll just keep on keeping on.
If someone flipped a switch and I was waking up in my old house, knowing today what I didn't know then..... Yes, I would do it all over again. Heartaches and disappointment be damned. We'll be soon settling into our "twilight" years and the future looks even brighter.
Happy Anniversary Bobby. The next twenty will be even better than the first twenty.
"Twenty years now, where'd they go? Twenty years. I don't know. I sit and I wonder sometimes, where they've gone."
Monday, May 2, 2011
Billions
So we've turned over more than 18 BILLION dollars to a country that harbored America's # 1 terrorist and are wailing in the streets today that we killed their hero.
I say it's time we target more of their "heroes".
And time to cut the bastards from the payroll.
Quite frankly Musharraf, you can join your buddy as fish food.
Thank you Navy Seals. Thank you CIA Interrogators.
Yes, I WANT my President's administration to be taking this seriously.
And thank you President Bush. Today we learn this intell was collected during your administration, under the interrogation procedures used by the CIA that were viewed by many on the left as being a "war crime".
Welcome to hell Bin Laden. I'm sure Mohammad Atta has already let you in on that little white 72 virgins lie by now.
I say it's time we target more of their "heroes".
And time to cut the bastards from the payroll.
Quite frankly Musharraf, you can join your buddy as fish food.
Thank you Navy Seals. Thank you CIA Interrogators.
Thank you President Obama.
And thank you President Bush. Today we learn this intell was collected during your administration, under the interrogation procedures used by the CIA that were viewed by many on the left as being a "war crime".
Welcome to hell Bin Laden. I'm sure Mohammad Atta has already let you in on that little white 72 virgins lie by now.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Chiming In
Ok, for once I'm going to jump on the bandwagon.
No, I really don't care about the Brit's royal family (is royal supposed to be capitalized in this situation?) but yes, I will DVR the ceremony.
I was twenty-two years old when Lady Di married Prince Charles. Obviously that was long before DVRs and a few years before Beta Max recorders were affordable, so I woke up early to watch. I still remember sitting in the kitchen with my mom that early morning and seeing Lady Di coming up the aisle in that incredibly long long train.
I remember the fairy tale carriage she rode in. I was young and believed in the fairy tale and hoped that it wasn't only skin deep.
Shortly thereafter it became obvious the marriage was just a sham. Today, I still believe that Diana probably didn't know that she was only picked for good breeding. I'm sure she was incredibly insufferable to be around, but throughout the years I loved seeing her with her children. I still remember seeing William running into her arms after spending time away from her. And my heart broke watching the two boys walk behind the horse drawn casket.
So although I don't spend more than a nickel's worth of attention to the royal family, I will still DVR the ceremony.
I guess all girls want to believe in the fairy tale no matter what they may tell you.
Update: I thought I would be mildly interested, but actually the ceremony was the kind told in fairy tales. The bride was gorgeous and it was so sweet when she finally got up to the altar, William leaned over and you could easily read his lips. He said, "You look so beautiful. Beautiful" And he was right.
No, I really don't care about the Brit's royal family (is royal supposed to be capitalized in this situation?) but yes, I will DVR the ceremony.
I was twenty-two years old when Lady Di married Prince Charles. Obviously that was long before DVRs and a few years before Beta Max recorders were affordable, so I woke up early to watch. I still remember sitting in the kitchen with my mom that early morning and seeing Lady Di coming up the aisle in that incredibly long long train.
Shortly thereafter it became obvious the marriage was just a sham. Today, I still believe that Diana probably didn't know that she was only picked for good breeding. I'm sure she was incredibly insufferable to be around, but throughout the years I loved seeing her with her children. I still remember seeing William running into her arms after spending time away from her. And my heart broke watching the two boys walk behind the horse drawn casket.
So although I don't spend more than a nickel's worth of attention to the royal family, I will still DVR the ceremony.
I guess all girls want to believe in the fairy tale no matter what they may tell you.
Update: I thought I would be mildly interested, but actually the ceremony was the kind told in fairy tales. The bride was gorgeous and it was so sweet when she finally got up to the altar, William leaned over and you could easily read his lips. He said, "You look so beautiful. Beautiful" And he was right.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
I Wanna Have a Beer With This Guy
I love the artistic turn this takes when the reporter pans her camera back to the guys she's having a side discussion with.
I watched this several times, laughing harder each time. It's comic genius
H/T Hotair
I watched this several times, laughing harder each time. It's comic genius
H/T Hotair
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Rumbling Surgery - Updated
Update: He's home and doing well.
Tomorrow morning, Rumbles goes under the knife due to his work accident. Amazingly, they are going to remove two of his neck vertebrae, replace them with cadaver vertebrae and then weld three of them together AND it's considered out-patient surgery.
In keeping with family tradition, I can't let a good ribbing go to waste. Enjoy the video Mark. I'm sure those bolts extruding out of your neck will come in handy next Halloween.
Good luck big brother. You'll be fine. Love you.
Tomorrow morning, Rumbles goes under the knife due to his work accident. Amazingly, they are going to remove two of his neck vertebrae, replace them with cadaver vertebrae and then weld three of them together AND it's considered out-patient surgery.
In keeping with family tradition, I can't let a good ribbing go to waste. Enjoy the video Mark. I'm sure those bolts extruding out of your neck will come in handy next Halloween.
Good luck big brother. You'll be fine. Love you.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Sometimes Your Kids Just Won't Listen
Tomorrow I will get a chance to watch my big brother cry like a little girl again. I can't wait. We'll all be watching as the "baby" of the next generation of my family is "given away". I told her it was nice she planned such a big party for my birthday. Go read his Father of the Bride post, while I get myself a Kleenex.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
I Never Thought I Would See The Day (Warning Political Discussion)
Yes, I do TRY to not blog about politics, although I have very strong beliefs and my "hobby" is reading alot of differing viewpoints about politics. I have become much more passionate about what I believe the older I get.
I even read radical liberal sites just to keep an eye on what people at the opposite end of the spectrum might be thinking, even sites like DailyKos. Rarely do I find any logical reasoning. There are some reasonable sites where you can at least disagree intelligently without resorting to namecalling, but they are rare. When anyone (right or left) can no longer support their ideology, too many of them resort to the Nazi, Racist, Hitler names which I just find appalling.
In perusing my nightly routine of reading several politcal blogs of both sides, I found the most amazing thing tonight.
One of the people I find most offensive is not a blogger, but a very well known "supposed journalist" for Time. Joel Klein I don't read his writings often because he is so biased and hateful that I want to throw my laptop across the room. I read the article because of a link on hotair.com stating that Klein was in "full throttle freak out mode" about possible GOP contenders in 2012.
Klein likes to complain about the horrible rhetoric and he's the worst of the worst about throwing it at Conservatives and the Tea Party.
Of course the article starts off slamming every conservative belief and ripping into all the "front-runners" thus far, but he ends today's article with this:
"...so I plead, as an unflinching American patriot--please Mitch Daniels, please Jeb Bush, please run. I may not agree with you on most things, but I respect you. And you seem to respect yourselves enough not to behave like public clowns."
I literally had to read the last part a couple times to make sure I read that right. I don't think I could get behind Jeb Bush only because I think he, like Palin, Bachmann, and several other GOP contenders would draw out millions of voters only to vote AGAINST them.
But Mitch? Since Mike Pence won't run (yet), I think Mitch would be a good President and could win.
All I gotta say is that Klein must be VERY nervous about the outcome of the 2012 Presidential election and he's thinking it may NOT be in the Democrat's favor.
In the words of Arte Johnson, "Interesting, VERY interesting."
I even read radical liberal sites just to keep an eye on what people at the opposite end of the spectrum might be thinking, even sites like DailyKos. Rarely do I find any logical reasoning. There are some reasonable sites where you can at least disagree intelligently without resorting to namecalling, but they are rare. When anyone (right or left) can no longer support their ideology, too many of them resort to the Nazi, Racist, Hitler names which I just find appalling.
In perusing my nightly routine of reading several politcal blogs of both sides, I found the most amazing thing tonight.
One of the people I find most offensive is not a blogger, but a very well known "supposed journalist" for Time. Joel Klein I don't read his writings often because he is so biased and hateful that I want to throw my laptop across the room. I read the article because of a link on hotair.com stating that Klein was in "full throttle freak out mode" about possible GOP contenders in 2012.
Klein likes to complain about the horrible rhetoric and he's the worst of the worst about throwing it at Conservatives and the Tea Party.
Of course the article starts off slamming every conservative belief and ripping into all the "front-runners" thus far, but he ends today's article with this:
"...so I plead, as an unflinching American patriot--please Mitch Daniels, please Jeb Bush, please run. I may not agree with you on most things, but I respect you. And you seem to respect yourselves enough not to behave like public clowns."
I literally had to read the last part a couple times to make sure I read that right. I don't think I could get behind Jeb Bush only because I think he, like Palin, Bachmann, and several other GOP contenders would draw out millions of voters only to vote AGAINST them.
But Mitch? Since Mike Pence won't run (yet), I think Mitch would be a good President and could win.
All I gotta say is that Klein must be VERY nervous about the outcome of the 2012 Presidential election and he's thinking it may NOT be in the Democrat's favor.
In the words of Arte Johnson, "Interesting, VERY interesting."
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
And Since I No Longer Work There
Which at this point in my life, could be several banks, mortgage companies, the FDIC and at least one retail shop. I have some bizarre wonderful co-worker stories. I'll reserve the right to change a few details to avoid prosecution identification. (Look at me, I found the "scratch that" font.)
As a preface, let me first state that if I mention someone's race/ethnicity/gender/stupidity or any other outstanding noticeable differences it does NOT mean I have issues with the particular trait, only that it's important to explain the storyline. I'll try to leave out those details, but if you figure that trait out all on your own, I bear no responsibility.
Ok, here goes.
When I asked him, Chang told me he had been in America 26 years.
Well, at least I THINK that is what he said.
The cubes in the office were just about the height of my head, which meant little privacy. Chang sat on the opposite side of my cube wall. I couldn’t see him, but I could hear every big SLURP of coffee, water, coke, soup. Did I say slurp, no I meant slurpS.
Not kidding. It was especially bad because the slurps would come in waves. Thirty or so within thirty seconds. Rest a couple minutes and it would start all over again. Every slurp felt like someone would jam 100k volts through my back.
At lunchtime, he would prepare this at his desk:
You can imagine the smell that would wash over me like a wave. I finally brought in two small fans and directed the smell up and over to one of my buddies that sat with an open cube next to Chang.
Immediately behind Chang, sat Cliff Clavin. For those of you that may be too young to remember who that is, he was the mailman on Cheers that would sit around the bar spouting things like this:
Cliff: "Well ya see, Norm, it's like this. A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. And when the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members. In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Excessive intake of alcohol, as we know, kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine. That's why you always feel smarter after a few beers."
(Sorry, tried to find a great video of Cliff, but sadly few seem to exist that show off his vast knowledge.)
Anyway.
Cliff had been married to a Russian woman, which made him know even more about the world than the rest of us. Well, except we had Indians, Brazilians, Ukrainians, and Taiwanese. Oh and Chinese. There was an extreme amount of "English as a second language" in the office. But Cliff knew more about their cultures than they did. He once told the Chinese guy that he was “clean for a Chinese man” and told the sweet Indian lady behind me that she was “lighter skinned than most Indians”. Obviously Cliff is now divorced.
Behind Cliff was a deaf lady. She wore hearing aids, but would take them out most of the day. Many of us envied her disability as the chaos reigned down around us.
Behind the deaf lady was a very argumentative, loud yet witty Ukrainian. He had been friends with Cliff for decades. They argued like a couple in a very bad marriage.
Mr. Ukraine and Chang didn’t speak to each other often, but when they did, a huge argument would ensue. I have to explain that Chang had serious issues with the English language. It was universally impossible to understand about 4 out of 5 words he spoke. Consequently, everyone he spoke to would stand there with a “deer in the headlights” look. It was extremely entertaining to watch it happening to anyone but me. He was extremely, overly, unbelievably nice to everyone (with Mr. Ukraine being the exception), so I really did feel badly that he drove me absolutely insane.
Making it even worse was the fact that I honestly believed Chang wasn’t odd because he was from a different culture or could barely speak English. Having looked up the symptoms, I believe he may have been suffering from a mild form of Asperger’s Syndrome. He had the physical and mental conditions that matched exactly. I know, I know. I’m a horrible person but you didn’t have to work next to him 40+ hours a week.
Between my cube and the printer stood a shredder bin. Everyone shared the same printer. One day Chang shuffled back from the printer corner and very politely asked me, “Reetaa, how woiaroa ownguuu fowta shred?” He stood with papers in his hands. I figured it out. “Oh, you need to shred some papers?” Bowing his head up and down, he said, “Yes. Yes.”
I took him back around from where he just came and showed him the shredder bin.
He politely, very politely thanked me profusely. Then…..
He looked into the slot of the bin and looked confused. He looked back up at me and began to move both hands back and forth, miming a perfect imitation of a paper shredder.
“But, how does it shred?” My conscience is dealing me a huge blow right now. I know he means well, I understand he’s a nice man. I took a deep breath and said very slowly, “Chang. It doesn’t shred. It’s a BIN. They shred the paper somewhere else. This is where you place the paper to be shredded.”
Again, he nods his heads in agreement and thanks me. Twice.
Then bent down again and looked at the slot.
And again. Said. “But....how does it shred?” And again, making his Edward Scissorhand’s move.
I know at this time God is about to smite me with some severe affliction, because I just want to get away and crawl back to my cube. Patience. Patience. Breathe in. Breathe out.
“CHANG, it DOESN’T shred. “
“Oh, how?” Johnny Depp returns.
“Chang. You put the paper in the bin. It falls into a bag. Someone picks up the bag and takes it away to a place where they shred.”
“OH, ok. Thank you very much.”
I’m making my escape. Or so I thought.
“Reetaaa, what weow owrwa with paper you don’t want to shred?”
“I put it in my trash can, Chang.”
Just one tiny example of an everyday workplace that no one could write in a sitcom because it would not be believable.
Oh, and one day, my sweet Indian friend decided she would try to imitate a Chinese accent. The office was in tears.
I know. I'm horrible. But office work is this close to insanity.
As a preface, let me first state that if I mention someone's race/ethnicity/gender/stupidity or any other outstanding noticeable differences it does NOT mean I have issues with the particular trait, only that it's important to explain the storyline. I'll try to leave out those details, but if you figure that trait out all on your own, I bear no responsibility.
Ok, here goes.
When I asked him, Chang told me he had been in America 26 years.
Well, at least I THINK that is what he said.
The cubes in the office were just about the height of my head, which meant little privacy. Chang sat on the opposite side of my cube wall. I couldn’t see him, but I could hear every big SLURP of coffee, water, coke, soup. Did I say slurp, no I meant slurpS.
Not kidding. It was especially bad because the slurps would come in waves. Thirty or so within thirty seconds. Rest a couple minutes and it would start all over again. Every slurp felt like someone would jam 100k volts through my back.
At lunchtime, he would prepare this at his desk:
Immediately behind Chang, sat Cliff Clavin. For those of you that may be too young to remember who that is, he was the mailman on Cheers that would sit around the bar spouting things like this:
Cliff: "Well ya see, Norm, it's like this. A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. And when the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members. In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Excessive intake of alcohol, as we know, kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine. That's why you always feel smarter after a few beers."
(Sorry, tried to find a great video of Cliff, but sadly few seem to exist that show off his vast knowledge.)
Anyway.
Cliff had been married to a Russian woman, which made him know even more about the world than the rest of us. Well, except we had Indians, Brazilians, Ukrainians, and Taiwanese. Oh and Chinese. There was an extreme amount of "English as a second language" in the office. But Cliff knew more about their cultures than they did. He once told the Chinese guy that he was “clean for a Chinese man” and told the sweet Indian lady behind me that she was “lighter skinned than most Indians”. Obviously Cliff is now divorced.
Behind Cliff was a deaf lady. She wore hearing aids, but would take them out most of the day. Many of us envied her disability as the chaos reigned down around us.
Behind the deaf lady was a very argumentative, loud yet witty Ukrainian. He had been friends with Cliff for decades. They argued like a couple in a very bad marriage.
Mr. Ukraine and Chang didn’t speak to each other often, but when they did, a huge argument would ensue. I have to explain that Chang had serious issues with the English language. It was universally impossible to understand about 4 out of 5 words he spoke. Consequently, everyone he spoke to would stand there with a “deer in the headlights” look. It was extremely entertaining to watch it happening to anyone but me. He was extremely, overly, unbelievably nice to everyone (with Mr. Ukraine being the exception), so I really did feel badly that he drove me absolutely insane.
Making it even worse was the fact that I honestly believed Chang wasn’t odd because he was from a different culture or could barely speak English. Having looked up the symptoms, I believe he may have been suffering from a mild form of Asperger’s Syndrome. He had the physical and mental conditions that matched exactly. I know, I know. I’m a horrible person but you didn’t have to work next to him 40+ hours a week.
Between my cube and the printer stood a shredder bin. Everyone shared the same printer. One day Chang shuffled back from the printer corner and very politely asked me, “Reetaa, how woiaroa ownguuu fowta shred?” He stood with papers in his hands. I figured it out. “Oh, you need to shred some papers?” Bowing his head up and down, he said, “Yes. Yes.”
I took him back around from where he just came and showed him the shredder bin.
He politely, very politely thanked me profusely. Then…..
He looked into the slot of the bin and looked confused. He looked back up at me and began to move both hands back and forth, miming a perfect imitation of a paper shredder.
“But, how does it shred?” My conscience is dealing me a huge blow right now. I know he means well, I understand he’s a nice man. I took a deep breath and said very slowly, “Chang. It doesn’t shred. It’s a BIN. They shred the paper somewhere else. This is where you place the paper to be shredded.”
Again, he nods his heads in agreement and thanks me. Twice.
Then bent down again and looked at the slot.
And again. Said. “But....how does it shred?” And again, making his Edward Scissorhand’s move.
I know at this time God is about to smite me with some severe affliction, because I just want to get away and crawl back to my cube. Patience. Patience. Breathe in. Breathe out.
“CHANG, it DOESN’T shred. “
“Oh, how?” Johnny Depp returns.
“Chang. You put the paper in the bin. It falls into a bag. Someone picks up the bag and takes it away to a place where they shred.”
“OH, ok. Thank you very much.”
I’m making my escape. Or so I thought.
“Reetaaa, what weow owrwa with paper you don’t want to shred?”
“I put it in my trash can, Chang.”
Just one tiny example of an everyday workplace that no one could write in a sitcom because it would not be believable.
Oh, and one day, my sweet Indian friend decided she would try to imitate a Chinese accent. The office was in tears.
I know. I'm horrible. But office work is this close to insanity.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
Surely We Are Being Punked
So apparently today, this guy...
and this guy
and this guy
and this one.
decided to give the United States a lecture at the UN Human Rights Council on human rights.
Someone, anyone tell me why we would be connected with an organization that allows these nations voting on our human rights.
I think I'll go have a migraine now.
and this guy
and this guy
and this one.
decided to give the United States a lecture at the UN Human Rights Council on human rights.
Someone, anyone tell me why we would be connected with an organization that allows these nations voting on our human rights.
I think I'll go have a migraine now.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
I'll Take Nuclear for Two Hundred Please Alex
Someone, anyone please explain this to me.
I am learning, but it's obvious I cannot become a Nuclear Physicist overnight, especially because I don't know the difference between Nuculer (which I'm told is NOT a word, just a mispronunciation) and Nuclear.
I've been listening to the news trying to explain this in simple terms. I want to understand more, but I have no one to ask my questions.
God, please help those poor people in Japan. I don't understand the havoc wreaked on this nation. I know there is so much I cannot understand and as one faithful Japanese man put it, "This is a test of my faith." Amen.
I've been listening to the news trying to explain this in simple terms. I want to understand more, but I have no one to ask my questions.
God, please help those poor people in Japan. I don't understand the havoc wreaked on this nation. I know there is so much I cannot understand and as one faithful Japanese man put it, "This is a test of my faith." Amen.
Friday, March 4, 2011
The Best Sitcom
I refuse, and I do mean REFUSE to post about the latest Hollywood meltdown. But since the idiot claimed that he was the best sitcom ever, I wondered what your favorite might be.
I have to say Frasier made me laugh nearly EVERY episode. The combination of Frasier, Niles and their father was just classic. Martin reminded me so much of my Grandpa Cissell.
Next is a new one. I really love Big Bang Theory.
Even though not technically labeled a sitcom, we would laugh hysterically at Boston Legal. You had to get to know the characters, but once you did, no one did it better than William Shatner in that role.
Entertaining was The Golden Girls, Cheers, and Seinfeld.
I'm sure I'll think of others. I'll add them to the post as I think of them.
I'm just too tired to post serious stuff with the new job. So much to learn, getting used to new people (everyone seems to be great) and learning a new industry and dealing with a start up company and missing my old friends and comfort zone.
Which reminds me of another one. The Office. I never regularly watched it, but I lived it the last four years. The Office could never write an episode that came anywhere near the environment I worked in because no one would believe it. But the great people far outweighed the crazies and it was always entertaining to listen to someone else having a discussion with the handful of crazies when I was not having to participate. There were just too many funny non-pc stories not to tell.
Soon, my friends, I'll tell them soon. When I'm not so tired.
I have to say Frasier made me laugh nearly EVERY episode. The combination of Frasier, Niles and their father was just classic. Martin reminded me so much of my Grandpa Cissell.
Next is a new one. I really love Big Bang Theory.
Even though not technically labeled a sitcom, we would laugh hysterically at Boston Legal. You had to get to know the characters, but once you did, no one did it better than William Shatner in that role.
Entertaining was The Golden Girls, Cheers, and Seinfeld.
I'm sure I'll think of others. I'll add them to the post as I think of them.
I'm just too tired to post serious stuff with the new job. So much to learn, getting used to new people (everyone seems to be great) and learning a new industry and dealing with a start up company and missing my old friends and comfort zone.
Which reminds me of another one. The Office. I never regularly watched it, but I lived it the last four years. The Office could never write an episode that came anywhere near the environment I worked in because no one would believe it. But the great people far outweighed the crazies and it was always entertaining to listen to someone else having a discussion with the handful of crazies when I was not having to participate. There were just too many funny non-pc stories not to tell.
Soon, my friends, I'll tell them soon. When I'm not so tired.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Are they trying to google brothel? Update
I'm still getting all kinds of hits for chicken broth. Please someone from the other side of the earth explain to me why there seems to be a sudden interest in chicken broth? Is this some code word in another language that I am missing the latest news on? It's a chicken broth conspiracy, isn't it?
Blogging and apparently googling is weird.
It's NOT Thanksgviing people. Why aren't you reading any of my interesting posts?
Update: Here are the stats from the last 500 hits on search terms on my blog if you think I'm imagining things. The 50% doesn't include "raw chicken", "photos of chicken broth" or "3 raw chickens." I think it's the image of the Swanson's chicken broth that is getting the hits. Maybe I should try to turn this blog into a paying ad one with Swanson's except that the post it refers to says, "I don't use this stuff." (Which actually isn't entirely true, I always have some on hand JUST in case I haven't made enough broth the "real" way.)
Num Perc. Search Term
87 50.00% chicken broth
5 2.87% 1978 monte carlo
5 2.87% ordinary
5 2.87% Officer David Moore
4 2.30% raw chicken
4 2.30% peter koe
3 1.72% "an ordinary life"
3 1.72% Pete Koe
2 1.15% an ordinary life
2 1.15% blue 1978 Monte Carlo
2 1.15% officer moore
2 1.15% reviews of Live like you are dying
2 1.15% west baden hotel rooms
2 1.15% extreme hatred
2 1.15% west baden springs
2 1.15% i see dead people quote
2 1.15% start out that way
1 0.57% impd david moore
1 0.57% baby blue 80 monte carlo
1 0.57% kenneth anderson jake laird
1 0.57% 78 monte carlo
1 0.57% Officer Timothy Jacob (Jake) Laird
1 0.57% disney elevators
1 0.57% i phone autocorrect fail
1 0.57% eow 1/11/11
1 0.57% death people
1 0.57% my parents expect me to have an ordinary life
1 0.57% west baden
1 0.57% 78 monte carlo sky blue
1 0.57% a final 10-42
1 0.57% the mave site.fetch my flying monkeys
1 0.57% why love those family gatherings
1 0.57% photos of chicken broth
1 0.57% ordinary life
1 0.57% monte carlo 78
1 0.57% You and I cry I cry
1 0.57% ordinary life estate
1 0.57% I'll Be Seeing You Photography
1 0.57% officer koe
1 0.57% west baden springs hotel
1 0.57% impd officer david moore
1 0.57% old school monte carlo
1 0.57% officer jakr laird indianapolis police
1 0.57% teaching children about columbia
1 0.57% thought id see you one more time again
1 0.57% 3 raw chickens
1 0.57% tolerance with my friends
1 0.57% officer peter koe
1 0.57% locks of love bob
1 0.57% Indianapolis police officer Pete Koe
1 0.57% 10-42 officer
1 0.57% i have an ordinary life
1 0.57% "Anthony Maschek"
1 0.57% but I just thought I'd see you one more time again
1 0.57% text from dad dont come home getting it on got to hate autocorrect
1 0.57% an ordinary life reading for funeral
1 0.57% iphone autocorrect failures
174 100.00%
Blogging and apparently googling is weird.
It's NOT Thanksgviing people. Why aren't you reading any of my interesting posts?
Update: Here are the stats from the last 500 hits on search terms on my blog if you think I'm imagining things. The 50% doesn't include "raw chicken", "photos of chicken broth" or "3 raw chickens." I think it's the image of the Swanson's chicken broth that is getting the hits. Maybe I should try to turn this blog into a paying ad one with Swanson's except that the post it refers to says, "I don't use this stuff." (Which actually isn't entirely true, I always have some on hand JUST in case I haven't made enough broth the "real" way.)
Num Perc. Search Term
87 50.00% chicken broth
5 2.87% 1978 monte carlo
5 2.87% ordinary
5 2.87% Officer David Moore
4 2.30% raw chicken
4 2.30% peter koe
3 1.72% "an ordinary life"
3 1.72% Pete Koe
2 1.15% an ordinary life
2 1.15% blue 1978 Monte Carlo
2 1.15% officer moore
2 1.15% reviews of Live like you are dying
2 1.15% west baden hotel rooms
2 1.15% extreme hatred
2 1.15% west baden springs
2 1.15% i see dead people quote
2 1.15% start out that way
1 0.57% impd david moore
1 0.57% baby blue 80 monte carlo
1 0.57% kenneth anderson jake laird
1 0.57% 78 monte carlo
1 0.57% Officer Timothy Jacob (Jake) Laird
1 0.57% disney elevators
1 0.57% i phone autocorrect fail
1 0.57% eow 1/11/11
1 0.57% death people
1 0.57% my parents expect me to have an ordinary life
1 0.57% west baden
1 0.57% 78 monte carlo sky blue
1 0.57% a final 10-42
1 0.57% the mave site.fetch my flying monkeys
1 0.57% why love those family gatherings
1 0.57% photos of chicken broth
1 0.57% ordinary life
1 0.57% monte carlo 78
1 0.57% You and I cry I cry
1 0.57% ordinary life estate
1 0.57% I'll Be Seeing You Photography
1 0.57% officer koe
1 0.57% west baden springs hotel
1 0.57% impd officer david moore
1 0.57% old school monte carlo
1 0.57% officer jakr laird indianapolis police
1 0.57% teaching children about columbia
1 0.57% thought id see you one more time again
1 0.57% 3 raw chickens
1 0.57% tolerance with my friends
1 0.57% officer peter koe
1 0.57% locks of love bob
1 0.57% Indianapolis police officer Pete Koe
1 0.57% 10-42 officer
1 0.57% i have an ordinary life
1 0.57% "Anthony Maschek"
1 0.57% but I just thought I'd see you one more time again
1 0.57% text from dad dont come home getting it on got to hate autocorrect
1 0.57% an ordinary life reading for funeral
1 0.57% iphone autocorrect failures
174 100.00%
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