I've added "word verification" to the comment area to block spammers. My apologies.
The 3 Little Rants
“Once upon a time there was a mother rant who had three little rants. The three little rants grew so big that their mother said to them, "You are too big to live here any longer. You must go find blogs for yourselves. But take care that the FCC does not catch you."
“The Office” rant. This is not really a rant, it is only made of comments and observations…a straw rant, if you will.
First, my iPod is still a little sickly. I think it needs to be sent back to Apple for diagnostics and treatment. And I will do just that. But I bought another one anyway. The 30GB, with a bigger color display and video capability. (insert nerd dance) I also checked the TV Shows on iTunes and, lo and behold, I can download episodes of “The Office” for $1.99 each. How excited am I?! Very. I’ve now downloaded all the episodes onto my shiny new iPod.
However, while home yesterday, painting, I would watch them on the computer. If the paint was drying or I was eating lunch or just needed a 20 minute break, I’d be down in front of the computer, “watching TV”. I think I’ve started my ascent to the pinnacle of Mt. Geek. I just LOVE this show, however. I saw the first 2 seasons of the British version a couple years ago but had little faith that American broadcasting would do it justice….but it has! Well done!
The second rant is made of sticks and a little stronger. The Nothing Bugs Me More rant.
A friend was over the other day, I forget what we were doing but I had to go wash my hands. On the soap in the kitchen was a little hair. Not a pube! Don’t be gross! Anyway…I’ve never liked that and will do whatever I have to in order to rid the soap of one. And it has to be done before I wash my hands.
So, I’m dealing with that and I say to her, “jeez, nothing bugs me more then something on the soap…” After a second, I stop and think, oh my God, LOTS of things bug me more. I figure listing the top 10 would be a great blog.
It’s more difficult then you might think….or maybe the soap thing really does bug me that much. I’ve mentioned the littering and people parking in handicap spots before so I really only need 8.
1. Starting to erase something and realizing, too late, that the eraser is gone…and the metal thingy on the pencil just scrapes across the paper. I’m getting skeeved just thinking about it.
2. Anyone who is mean to waiters and waitresses.
3. When hangers get all entangled on the rod and you can’t get just one to come undone…especially when holding something in your other hand.
4. Stepping in a puddle with slides/clogs on and having your socks get all wet. (That happened this morning.)
5. Snow getting inside your sleeves and making your wrists cold and the bottom of your sleeve all wet and soggy. Ick.
6. Sweaty equipment at the gym.
7. Picking up the extra roll of toilet paper that someone has precariously perched on the holder, only to find out that the entire bottom half of the roll is wet all the way through.
8. Putting on an article of clothing, right out of the dryer, and it’s still wet.
Hmmm. A lot of these have to do with something being wet when it shouldn't be. Interesting. This is something new I'm just discovering about myself. I wonder what it means.
The third rant is made of bricks and is the strongest of all. It’s the Weight Watchers commercial rant. Have you seen this? They use Cher’s “This is a Song for the Lonely” in it. I don’t know if it’s nationwide.
Admittedly, some of the words from that song are very inspirational.
When you're standing on the edge of nowhere
There's only one way up
So your heart's got to go there
Through the darkest night
See the light shine bright
When hero's fall, in love or war
They live forever
Just sitting here, I want to find a way to sit better, straighter, taller! Yes!!
But then they blow it…
This is a song - for the lonely
Can you hear me tonight
For the broken hearted, battle scared
I'llBe by your side
And this is a song - for the lonely
When your dreams won't come true
Can you hear this prayer
'Coz someone's there for you
If I were someone going to Weight Watchers, I’d be PISSED. What makes it okay to associate loneliness with Weight Watchers?
I’ll bet there are people out there who are way too skinny and just as lonely as some who may need to shed some pounds.
So, there you go….now I’ve huffed and I’ve puffed and…well, that would appear to be the extent of what I’ve done.
“Who’s afraid of the FCC, the FCC, the FCC?”
The Jeep...Follow-Up.
So the Jeep is fixed. Another hundred dollars later. Fuckers. I get up at 6:30 in the morning - on a Saturday - so I can get there as earlier as possible. And, trust me, I would have much rather STAYED IN BED. But I tore myself away from that temptation and got over there around 7:30.
It's pretty typical....a box of donuts that have probably been there since 6am and the only ones left are either waxy looking or have pink glaze. Blech. Never fear, I have my Starbucks with me and a pastry in my pocket so I am sort of content.
Then there are the chairs...light, neutral colored but all have some kind of mildly suspicious stain on them. I find one around a corner, by itself, with a desk next to it and a footrest that someone has attempted to turn into a chair by pushing it against the wall...I use it as a footrest. I can also see the TV in the reflection of a picture on the wall. So, I am amongst the other PODs (Prisoners of Dealerships) but as far away from them as I can get. And I brought a book, of course. One that I actually have to read - because I refuse to waste any amount of my life just sitting in the customer "lounge"....where are the La-Z-Boys?
And the other people...there's not even enough time to get into that. But they all look miserable and tired. It's the hap-hap-happiest place on Earth.
So, after about an hour or so, someone comes in - I've been calling him Tony in my head, because he looked like a Tony to me. Tony is loud so there are no secrets between me, Tony, the other PODs and probably every person in the showroom down the hall.
According to Tony, the last time I brought the car in, they replaced the rear brake pads and refaced the rotors. Refaced...very important. The problem is the rotors. They really need to be replaced. Huh? And then Tony guarantees that I will not hear the sound anymore. But Tony, my dear dear fellow, the car was fine when I brought it in...there was no sound....it started after I brought the car here.
Yeah. Because the rotors were reFACED. They need to be rePLACED. Then the sound goes away. Ohhhh... How very foolish of me. Why wasn't that done 2 weeks ago when you had the car all the damn live-long day?
Yeah. They still had some wear in them but, really, it's better to replace them. And we charged you $69.95 to reface the rotors. New rotors cost $169.95....but I'm gonna credit you the $69.95. And we'll replace the brake pads again...for free.
Well, what more can you ask for?
Of course, all the loungers are listening to this. I really want to take Tony into a private office and shake him until his big round head rolls around a few times. In the end, he's just doing his job and I'm gonna have to replace the rotors at some point.
This is just wasting my time. OKay, Tony, how long is this going to take? 'Boundenhour. That would be "about an hour" to you and me. I have lots of book left....
Okay, Tony, fix 'er up, my good man!
Better then his word, 45 minutes later, the rotors and brake pads are replaced, I pay my hundred bucks and head home.
I'm only irritated that I could have stayed in bed had they only replaced the rotors when they had it before. Why must they toy with me like that?
This Just Pisses Me Off...
Forbes, as you’ve probably heard, just published an article about the 25 most powerful celebrities. Blogstars picked it up and focused on the fact that 11 of them are under 25 years old. Fine. I don’t care how much money they make, they have problems just like everyone else and the only reason they might be happier is because they can afford the really good drugs and shop ALL THE TIME. Whatever.
The part that pisses me off is that about Paris Hilton “making” a paltry $6.5M. She doesn’t DO anything. How can they say she MADE money? Okay, she has the tv thing where she demonstrates just how inept she is at, well, everything. And she poses for this and that and sells herself on the internet or whatever and she may have even sung a song or something. Who the fuck would even know who she was if she didn’t have a famous hotel behind her name? My guess is, she wouldn’t have done any of those things if she weren’t known for just being a hotel heiress. Run the family business for a while and don’t let it go under and then I’ll agree that she earned money.
This has been a public service rant.
All SEPTA Trains Are Running on Time
Just when my faith in service centers was being restored, one single asshole brings it crashing to the ground. To set the stage…
Two weeks ago, (actually on New Year’s Eve day), I took the Jeep in for service. Now, I am the first to admit that I’m a horrible, horrible procrastinator when it comes to my car. I hate the inconvenience of dropping it off, dealing with the rental people, waiting for the phone call to tell me that the wheels would have fallen off in another 72 hours and then paying a small ransom to the dealership. Of course, I would hate the inconvenience of the wheels actually coming off or the engine exploding even more, but I don’t think about that. I always seem to get it in there in the nick of time. I know that one of these days, the steering wheel will just come off in my hands and I’ll have no one to blame but the manufacturer – you thought I was going to say myself, didn’t you? Oh puh-leeze. It’s not my fault they make a substandard vehicle that won’t drive for half a million miles with nary a tune-up. You would think they would have figured that out by now. Dumb asses.
Anyway…
I take the car in, they do a bunch of stuff to it – I think they even replaced the Johnson rod – and I go pick it up. Wonderful. All is good and I can abuse and misuse my little vehicle for another 6 months. The major thing they did this time was the brakes, which also just happened to fix the little squeak-squeak-squeaking noise on the back passenger side. Imagine that. This was also the first time I had used this particular dealership and, I must admit, they were an absolute delight to deal with. (Ohhhhh, THAT’S why they call it a dealership. You DEAL with them. I get it now.) I was so impressed with the cooperation, friendliness and service that I was moved to think about writing a letter. And I still intend to, but I am a procrastinator on that type of thing, too. Okay, I procrastinate…so sue me. The point is, my faith in service departments was renewed and it felt good. I don’t think I cursed at one person the entire way home.
Then reality set in…
I do know enough about cars to know that there is often a break-in period for new parts…especially brakes. So, when I hear a little squeal in the back break, I don’t think a lot of it. A couple days later, when the radio is low enough, I hear a louder squeal. Hmmm….that doesn’t sound good. And why do I smell rubber burning when I get out of the car? It’s probably nothing, it’ll work itself out. Fast forward to this week….the little break-in period squeal has turned into a full blown screech. Metal on metal. LOUD. EMBARASSING. As one unfortunate passenger pointed out, “it sounds like a SEPTA train”. It was so bad that people riding in things that barely represented cars were shooting me looks. When C, M and I were heading downtown for poker the other night, the guy in the next car shot us a look like you wouldn’t believe. Yes, it’s that loud. There he is, sitting in his 1974, orange and primer Pacer – hub caps missing, mirror dangling on the side, antenna bent in half, front hood buckling and the muffler barely attached, shooting us a dirty look because my brakes were a little louder then a mouse fart. Some people…
Anyway, now I have to call the freaking dealership again. This won’t be so bad…they were really nice.
Chris answers. Chris sounded like everything wrong that could have happened in one morning, happened to him. He could not be more annoyed with me – and this is just after “hello”. I was nice….I didn’t start off bitching and complaining or anything. I say I just had the car in and something isn’t right with the brakes…I even use the SEPTA train example (maybe that’s where I lost him). Okay, they can take a look at it on Wednesday. Wednesday!!! No way. Chris, it sounds BAD, buddy. Work with me here. Okay, bring it in tomorrow. Fine. And you’ll have a loaner for me, right Chris? Well, that depends on what they find. They’ll take a look at the brakes and see. Okay. But, then, if there’s a problem, you’ll have a loaner, RIGHT CHRIS? They’ll determine that tomorrow. Damn straight they will. Fucking prick. I’ve run a global support organization for 10+ years – they do NOT want to get into a customer service argument with me. Just tell me you'll give me a loaner if something is wrong....what the hell does that cost them?
So stay tuned and I’ll let you know how this goes on Monday.
Baaaaad Little Blogger
It would appear that I am taking a hiatus from blogging this week. This happened without warning, consent or a clue on my part. I just got the news myself. I know. Had I been informed, I surely would have told someone and asked them to pick up my mail and feed my little man Einstein. Honestly, I’m not sure WHAT happened. I think I had such a great time during the bar crawl on Saturday that I sort of stayed suspended in time and refused to acknowledge that a new week started.
The bar crawl was so fun. Nan provides two good summaries and a good pic on her site.
I feel like I’ve been asleep since then. I wanted to wish H a safe trip back to the desert and started to email her on Monday, only then realizing that she was leaving that day. I’m sure she has access there so I need to reach her. Sorry H!!!! Hope the party was a good one and time goes fast for you there. At least it’s a short stint this time.
I also TOTALLY FORGOT when my parents were getting back from the Rose Bowl Parade in CA. I called Monday on the way home from work, thinking they’d returned that weekend. Umm, nope. They’d been home since Wednesday, my Dad said. WTF.
Who else can I apologize to? This seems to be turning into one, long, mass apology note.
Oh yeah…I totally screwed up on the day of a presentation for a meeting in Beijing. I was attending via video con from here and thought my portion was tonight…it was last night. So I had to wing that….which actually went okay, believe it or not. So, sorry Beijing! Yes, the whole city. I apologize, to the entire city of Beijing, for not being able to read. God I’m a dumb ass sometimes. I told a friend about this and she thinks that perhaps my braces are too tight. She's probably right.
My poor little Christmas tree is laying out on the curb (in the rain today), waiting for the Christmas Tree Carcass Truck to come by and save it from the utter humiliation it is going through. Yes, I AM one of the pathetic people who believe inanimate objects have feelings. I’ve probably created bad sap karma now. If they don’t take it soon, I’m going to drag it to the back of my yard and put it in the woods so at least it can be amongst its own. I’m sorry little Christmas tree….you did a very nice job this year.
This is just depressing. That’s enough apologies for today. If I missed anyone, you know who you are and already know how sorry I am (yes, double entendre intended).
Read Nan’s bar crawl summary instead….it’s more fun.
I’m sorry this was such crappy entry.
Fuck! I did it again! I need to stop typing.
K-Fed
One of the blogs I keep up with is Biggest Blogstars. It amuses me. Today they posted this about Kevin Federline. Britany's little leech. At the end of the story, the writer asks "So how does an unemployed douchebag score a Ferrari without his wife's cash?"Duh. He probably stole it. K-Fed is just so stupid. To the point where I just sit and laugh at him. Honestly, I don't pay much attention to him or his nitwit wife and could not be more passionately indifferent about whatever it is they do. But he is just so STOOOPID. He makes Jessica Simpson look like a Mensa candidate. I think I want to meet him just so I can witness that much stupidity in person because I simply can't comprehend it. Plus, I want to jiggle his head....just to see if it helps. On a COMPLETELY different note....As a result of some twisted thought process I ended up searching for David Cassidy on iTunes the other day. You know what song I really like that I completely forgot about? "I'll Meet You Halfway". It's actually a very pretty song.You can tell that the equilibrium disfunction I'm having today is worse then you might have imagined, can't you? Yeah.I don't care. It's a nice song.The song I'm REALLY diggin' this week is Santana and Michelle Branch's "I'm Feeling You". I just keep playing it. I catch myself sort of half dancing at my desk. Love that fucking song.
Dizzy....My Head is Spinning....
I think my iPod is sick.
It wouldn’t sync 2 nights ago and yesterday, when I got to work, it wouldn’t even reset or play or anything. I finally got that fixed and decided to try the sync again last night.
After a horrendous showing at poker last night, I found myself home a little earlier then usual and started working on it. I tried the updater and that didn’t do anything….it wouldn’t even show up in iTunes as being connected. Bad sign.
It never actually gave me the finger, but it might as well have. I got the funky file warning. Shit. I had to go through the entire restore process and upload all my songs again…all 3500+ of them. Pain. In. The. Ass. But I figured, as long as it fixes it, it’s worth it.
Update this, restore that, unplug it from here and plug it in there, register all over again….cross your arms and blink your eyes.
I was up until almost 2 in the morning nursing it back to health. I even let my cat, Einstein, lick it once for luck.
Now, trying to listen to a playlist, it makes all these clicking sounds like the South African exchange student on “South Park”. It’s also skipping songs in the list. Criminy. Since I selected from the artist list, it seems to be okay. Of course, this is just THE perfect reason to by a new one!
I am also REALLY dizzy today. I feel like I’m going to fall over at any moment….even sitting down. It’s gotten worse since I arrived at the office…a clear sign that I should go home.
I’m starting to wonder if the two issues are related. If I start making clicking sounds, we might have a problem. Someone will have to restore me to factory settings.
The softball team I hang out with (the Dirty Martinis), which is different from the one I actually play on (the Flying Monkeys), is having the 12 Bars of Christmas tomorrow. We start at 1pm in South Philly. Should be lots of great stories and pictures come Monday.
I only have one goal…not to puke in public.
No Pain, No....need for Advil
This time it might actually stick…the gym commitment that is.
I know some people look at “the gym” as more of a social environment then anything else, but it’s really not the case for me. I am a social retard, for starters. Weightlifting is the one and only real form of exercise I like and can get into. And I’ve tried others. Let's review, shall we?
A. I hate to jog/run. I mean, REALLY despise it. I’ve yet to experience a “runner’s high”….I think it’s that point they reach as they are passing out in the gutter and the world is spinning around them. And I’ve TRIED to run. I have. However, I’ve accepted the fact that I only run in two situations. 1. For sports. 2. When being chased.
B. My days of aerobics are over. Long past are the evenings when my friend Stacy would drag me from our apartment complex, across the street, to the elementary school, so we could participate in the ancient 80’s tribal dance of the out-of-shape. I don’t ever again see myself standing in a gymnasium amongst all shapes, sizes, ages and hair styles of women. A veritable sea of pastel shorts, shirts and legwarmers performing our choreographed steps like the Solid Gold dancers while “Rock Steady” warbles from the speakers of the boom box in the acoustically challenged venue.
C. I was never one for the exercise balls and giant rubber bands that provide resistance and all that shit. Once you’ve rolled off the side of one of those balls with 15 people watching you or had one of those rubber bands slip from your sneaker and snap against the inside of your thigh, you don’t want to relive it. Better to slink/limp off to the locker room, leaving your pride on the floor, disguised as a puddle of sweat.
D. Anything with the name Richard Simmons attached to it sends me screaming from the room.
E. I even tried Pilates once…what the fuck? I think Pilates is Greek for “torture rack”.
F. And yoga…good God! This is supposed to help me relax and find balance while toning my ass into a surface off which you could bounce quarters? (You know, that comes in handy when you want to play quarters and can’t find a table.) I almost passed out trying to get my breathing correct…and I’ve been breathing on my own for a long damn time so I’m still not sure how I’ve been doing it “wrong”.
Instructor: “You’re not breathing correctly”
Me: “Then explain to me, Kiki, how the fuck I manage to function every damn day?”
Instructor: “Get out. And take your milkshake with you.”
Me: (defensively) “It’s NOT a milkshake, it’s a PRO-TEIN drink!”
Instructor: “In a McDonald’s cup?! Get out. Now.”
I hope her leotard gives her a hemorrhoid. Breathe-right Bitch.
But weightlifting….I love it. And for all those women who come into a gym whining, “but I don’t want to get too big” – if you knew the sheer amount of work it would take to get “too big”, you would never say that again. It’s very hard for most women to get that way without drugs involved. And the muscles don't pop out while you sleep. So when you get to a point where you like how you look....you can choose to maintain that. Besides, it's good for preventing osteoporosis.
The month-long break from the gym that I took 4 years ago was much needed and I feel refreshed and invigorated again. And sore. My shoulders are screaming and my calves hurt so bad that I look like old, fat Elvis when I walk."And we began to rock...(steady rock)...stea-dy....steady rockin' all night long (everybody rock steady now)...."STEP TOUCH FORWARD 1-2-3-4! WALK BACK 2-3-4JIGGY WITH IT HOPS RIGHT AND LEFT!GRAPEVINE 2-3-4RIGHT STEP UPAND BACK 3-4GRAPEVINE! KNEE RAISES 1-2-3-4AGAIN! 2-3-4 LOW KICKS FORWARD PONIES 2-3-4 GRAPEVINE!!! (They Loooove that grapevine)
Annie and Stef
Like a lot of others in this online community, I don’t know Annie and Steffie Sertich…to one another, we’ve only been sarcastic quips that cross a laptop screen. I sat here in my living room, early this morning – way earlier then usual - laboring over a decision to change jobs, barely aware of the heat cutting on and off, hearing a far off beep every 30 seconds that tells me there is a message on my answering machine and pausing for just a moment to acknowledge the click-click-click of the cat’s nails on the hardwood floor as he slipped into the kitchen for some food. I was fighting pseudo-insomnia by surfing around MySpace, tinkering with different song choices for my profile and finally landing on Santana’s “I’m Feeling You”. My fingers flying over the keyboard, the mouse zigzagging across the screen...the perfect early morning for a techno weenie. A vague thought kept rolling around my head, repeating a question..."WHY did I want to get braces again? This sucks and my mouth hurts." As you can tell, this is really important stuff.
I fired up my Jet Brains Omea Reader – my RSS feed – to check on new blog postings. Those daily entries that come from people I’ve never met but feel like I know a little more every day. That text-filled world that becomes a little bigger while making the real world a little smaller as you make a connection from this person to that person and then to another.
Skim the list of names that appear on my screen…Andrew Sullivan (too serious to tackle at this time of the day); Glenn Reynolds (too whatever most times of the day, why do I even keep up with that one?); Dave Barry (too many clicks to actually get to the story and I need to think about getting ready for work soon)….ah, Annie. Jesus’ Favorite. Discovered only because I’m a big geek who found Wil Wheaton’s blog so many months ago. This one is worth reading before I go get some toast and water, take a shower and get involved in the daily challenge of what to wear. She’s always a good read and usually a riot. Her sister is, too. And so is her sister’s friend, Allison. I love that I found the three of them.
I put my feet up and start to read….
Everything stops. I don’t know if the heat is running. The beep from the answering machine is so far away I can’t hear it now. For the next 10 minutes, all I can do is read. One line after another….each one sadder then the last; each one letting me further into the world of this stranger. Her Mom is dying from cancer...on that day, in that moment. It’s agonizing to feel her pain. It’s also a beautiful tribute….to her Mom, her family’s spirit, her Dad and brother and sister, her youth and her memories. I can’t help but feel for this family…to say a little prayer for them. My heart fills up and I just want to find the right words to comment with….ones that no one else has said….and it’s impossible. What starts out as a comment for Annie’s site, turns into what you're reading right now. She mentioned at the beginning of her entry that she would probably delete it later. I sit here thinking that I’ll never post this. I hope she doesn’t delete it. And I will post.
I look at the picture of her Mom. There's the red hair she wrote of. And the unmistakable spirit in her eyes. I’ve never seen this woman before in my life, but between the picture and Annie’s words, I feel like I know just how magnificent she was. If you look at her long enough, you can hear how beautiful her laugh was. You can imagine her scolding the two of them while trying to surpress a smile. You can feel her looking thoughtfully at you while she listens to you pour your heart out.
How wonderful it must have been to have had this person in their lives.Annie and Stef, my warmest and most sincere condolences on your family’s loss. Fucking cancer.
