Looking for Off Ramp

Fire rages out of control in Carmel Forest

2010-12-02T22:33:00.010+02:00

I'm afraid to go to sleep. I'm afraid of what the news will be tomorrow morning.
Forty people have already been killed: A bus full of trainees for the prison service, caught in the inferno. I can only hope for them that it was quick and that they were overcome by smoke and didn't feel the flames. The news is saying that they were mostly from the Druze community, a small community, what a catastrophe for that community, and for all of us!
Three police personnel are in critical condition and others are missing, unaccounted for.
Thousands of people have been evacuated from their homes. If they need volunteers to host those families, I think we'll volunteer. Where will they put so many people anyway?
They've run out of whatever it is they use to stop the fire - it isn't water - and the fire is still raging.
The Carmel forests are gone.
Cypress, Greece, Croatia, France, Russia, and one other country- didn't catch who -- are sending help. Even Egypt and Jordan have offered. We didn't ask Turkey, considering the circumstances. But Turkey is sending two helicopters anyway. Well, we helped them out when they had their earthquake, and we don't have a bone to pick with most Turks. It is encouraging that all these countries are willing to help. It is so encouraging. i was sure they all hated us and would enjoy watching us suffer.
We've been sitting in front of the TV for 4-5 hours watching the news. We haven't been glued to the TV like this since 9/11. There hasn't been a single commercial.
This is a national catastrophe and I'm afraid to go to sleep because I'm afraid to wake up to hear the full extent of it.

My Fantasy

2010-01-03T19:54:00.003+02:00

I have a fantasy in which I'm walking along and am forced into a situation in which I heroically risk my life to save some guy. The guy is a master of his trade - like a top grade guitar teacher or plastic surgeon or something, and he is so grateful that he begs me to allow him to give me free guitar lessons, or free plastic surgery, you know, something useful.

Of course I know that it isn't going to happen. I'm never walking along, I'm always in the car, and I'm the type to call 911 (or 101 in our area), as I like to leave things to the experts. Also, even if I was walking and did save him myself he'd be like a tree surgeon and I have no trees.

Real Madrid Goes Shopping

2009-06-11T17:17:00.015+03:00

Real Madrid went shopping and bid on a new player, a Portuguese midfielder named Cristiano Ronaldo for... 94,000,000 Euro. That's over 100 million dollars. Enough to save a bank's ass from bank-ruptcy. Or thereabouts.
Not knowing much about soccer, I can only assume that Mr. Ronaldo's considerable skills include being able to kick a ball real good.

In school, if I didn't do well in math or literature my folks would have been all over me like flies on a dead horse, but if I got a C- in gym, and a nasty note from the teacher for not really showing up half the time, nothing happened. After all, my folks were sending me to school to become a doctor/lawyer/quality assurance supervisor, etc., not a field hockey coach. Had I known that ball kicking, or ball hitting, or jumping into a pool and swimming real fast would have put me in the fast lane toward becoming an economy unto myself, I would have changed my priorities.
Now IT IS TOO LATE!!! Even for my own kids, who are past high school. Why oh why did I not visit the gym teacher on conference night, instead of the physics teacher? Why did I let my daughter drop out of gymnastics? What kind of a mother am I, why couldn't I get my priorities straight?!?

Doctors who transplant organs don't make nearly that much, do they? Not even software engineers. Even presidents who are considered to be a god by half the country aren't worth that much. Show me somebody who'll pay over 100 million dollars for President Obama. Right. Nobody.

Real Madrid is convinced that having Mr. Ronaldo will result in enough advertising and what-not to rake in that amount and more. They are probably right. My high school economics teacher committed suicide right after we graduated. I never understood why, but now I think I do.

The Difference Between a Thong and a Wedgie

2009-05-31T21:47:00.008+03:00

What's the difference between a wedgie and a thong? No, really - what's the difference? Back in the day, if you wanted to enjoy the feeling of nothing between you and your jeans, all you had to do was make eye contact with the neighborhood bully and presto, free of charge, your underwear was yanked northward, only to be stopped by your important anatomy.

Now you have to pay good money for the privelege, and it's called a thong. What purpose does it serve? The jury is still out on that one. And what is it made of anyways, the material that's left over after they use up the leftovers? It's like paying money for holy air in those little blue boxes. Seems like a rip-off. It should come free in a box of cereal. No, it would get lost in a big old box of cereal. Maybe a box of cracker jacks. Do they still have those? Or maybe in one of those little plastic eggs that cost 50 cents. Or in a box of holy air.

Missing Zebra and Polygamists

2009-05-23T22:13:00.013+03:00

Now that Zebra is gone work is really boring. No morning email to discuss our favorite passtime, FLDS, or polygamists. It seems like just two weeks ago we had a polygamy marathon. That isn't a euphamism for an orgy, and no, we did not become sister-wives, but we watched three back-to-back episodes of Big Love, season I, which we had missed because this banana republic plopped us down smack in the second season. We never knew how Nicky and Margene came to marry Bill and Barb. (Strangely, we still don't, even after the first three episodes of season I.) Anyway, I'll always remember that afternoon.

Before we discovered polygamists, we had both commented that we needed a wife in our respective marriages. It would be nice to have someone to do the shopping, clean the house, watch the kids, etc. It's really hard to find good help, and it's quite expensive. Anyway, there was just that stickly little problem of consumation, but we'd cross that bridge when we got there.

My remaining work friends are great, and we spend many a lunch break discussing American Idol and other top quality cultural diversions, but the polygamy bug has not yet bit them.

Zebra's division went belly-up, and they all got their walking papers. Damn recession. It seems like only yesterday, or maybe last month, Zebra and I were discussing our road trip to Utah. Now that probably won't happen. It probably wouldn't happen anyway, but one can dream.

Who Will Paint the Walls

2009-05-09T12:53:00.016+03:00

Paint life
Paint shelf life
Paint wall life
Lenth of time between painting walls?
How long does a coat of paint last?
Is not painting walls for 4 years grounds for divorce?

No matter how I type the question, Google has not been forthcoming on this one.

Her side:

Four years seems a bit long, but Mr. O has no problem with it. He could continue with the walls being the same salmon color they were four years ago, but then the salmon was fresh like it had just jumped out of a stream and now it looks like someone clubed it and some of its brains splattered about and then it had to fight its way upstream half dead and exhausted before it could flop about on a rock dying a slow death and looking so crappy that even a starving third-rate bear wouldn't eat it if it begged.

So after about six months of me nagging, Mr. O said if I wanted the walls painted, he would not object to me painting them myself. I've painted some walls in my time but I was young at the time and did not have super glue in my joints, and told him to get someone to paint if he ever wanted to have sex that doesn't involve cash payment again.

So I've been nagging Mr. O. since Obama took office to get someone. Mr. O. does not believe in having household repairs done by people with whom he has never gone to school/played soccer/chatted up at a gas station, so he said he'd check with his out-of-work friend the electrician (heretofor "Ed") if he wants to paint our walls. (It's not like it would cost less. He'll pay Ed more than he'd pay a stranger, just so that nobody will call him cheap.)

Every day since March 9th, Mr. O has had a different reason why he didn't speak to Ed. It's not like he could call him. He claims that Ed does not have a phone. He has to meet Ed in town. He just happened to not run into Ed every day for a month, even though the previous months he ran into Ed every day.

I was forced to take the nagging up a notch, and finally, in an act of desperation, added that if he didn't speak to Ed by the end of the week, in addition to the sex which he doesn't seem to be missing, I would stop making him coffee on Friday mornings. This had some effect. He was up early and on his way to Ed's house (suddenly he knows where he lives?) at 8:00 a.m. to catch him before he left the house.

So it appears I am better at making coffee than love. But I'm gonna get my walls painted!

His side:

There's nothing wrong with the walls. Nothing wrong with the "salmon". She's sick of it, says she wants "butter" or "cream". Maybe "caramel". Seems to me she's just sick of her low carb diet. She's been nagging me up the wall for like 4 months so just to get her off my case, I agreed for her to paint the walls. What's the big deal? She pays good money to go exercise in a gym, and then gets mad at me when I suggest a way to get exercise in the comfort of home. So she got all bent out of shape and wanted to get some guy who neither of us know, and let him paint our walls!

That's when I put my foot down. No damn stranger is gonna paint my walls. I said I'd get Ed to do it, and I will. When I decide. As soon as I run into him, I'll ask him. What's her big hurry? But now she's not making my coffee. I look forward to Friday morning coffee all week and she's cut me off! I just happen to be going to Ed's neighborhood this morning, so I'll probably run into him today.

Money for Nothin' and Your Chicks for Free

2009-03-22T18:54:00.006+02:00

Who would have thought that a mere 12 hours a day of sitting on my butt in front of a computer could cause major league tendon issues? Certainly not Mr. Offramp, who did 12 hour shifts of hard core heavy duty physical labor under hazardous conditions for 13 years befor going on disability, non-related. In his words, roughly translated:

"You wuss. You've found America, you just sit on your butt all day 60 seconds from the bathroom and 30 seconds from the coffee machine. You can make phone calls whenever you want and surf on your break. You've got it made. If I had your job I'd pop out of bed and run to work!"

(I didn't have the heart to tell him I don't have to wait for a break to surf. )

Money for nothin' and your chicks for free.

I'll be photoshopping the backgrounds out of 70+ photos over the next two days. He doesn't get it that there could be any pain involved.

So I haven't been online much. Taking it easy. And now I have to post without taking this item anywhere, since I accidentally hit "post" already, and un-posting causes problems.

Potty Habits of the Ancients

2009-03-07T22:30:00.000+02:00

To those of you who have had a ridicuous amount of snow this year, 50 degrees F. probably sounds good enough to put on a bathing suit and yell for a shirtless hula boy to bring you a drink with a paper umbrella in it. But you'd be surprised how damn cold 50 degrees F. is when your jeans are down around your ankles.

Our employer does not believe in heating the ladies' room. We are not enriching the shareholders while we are having a bathroom break, so we cannot enjoy heat during the interlude. I guess they figure it will get us out of there sooner. It works. We avoid the detested trip and wait for the earth to warm naturally as the sun climbs higher in the sky, thus improving conditions in the ladies' room.

My heart goes out to the ancient Native Americans, the Vikings, Druids, and other ancient people who probably did not enjoy heated facilities. Imagine waking up at 3:00 a.m. on a January night in 200 B.C and it's 2 degrees F., snowing big time, and there are wild animals roaming around. Even much more recently, how did the early settlers manage it? The little room with the little half-moon on the door was not heated at any time of the day. How did they manage?

The ancient Romans had public toilets with running water. I saw that on the Discovery channel, or maybe it was National Geographic or the History channel.

The ancient Japanese had some sort of sophisticated setup also. Shogun, the book. The miniseries glossed over that. Anyway, I think it was outside and it gets pretty cold over there. The ladies' room and mens' room was one and the same, kind of like the youth hostels in Holland. One sure-fire recipe for constipation.

The Essenes, who lived about the time that BC changed to AD, had their toilet rituals perscribed for them and written down. There was no mention of any facilities, just something about using a stick to dig a hole in the ground, and digging holes before the sabbath so they'd be ready and not require digging on the Sabbath. That's from Flavius Josephus, ancient Jewish historian. He was blogging without a computer at about that time.

So our situation in the ladies room is not much better than theirs, weather-wise. But whatever possessed the folks in Africa 100,000 years ago to leave that nice warm weather and go to Europe before the onset of heated restrooms is beyond me.

Bar Rafaeli and Sports Illustrated

2009-02-23T19:17:00.030+02:00

Doesn't my blog look nice today? This is a picture of Bar Rafaeli, a local girl who is making it big in America, specifically on the cover of Sports Illustrated. She was definitly among the first in line when looks and luck were handed out.

Her alleged boyfriend is Leonardo DiCaprio. She looks like this, and he is playing Mr. I'm Too Good To Admit I'm Bar's Boyfriend. What's up with that? I am a totally straight woman but if she was my girlfriend I'd be shouting it all over the internet. It bugs me that he is dissing her. What's so great about him anyway? In Titanic, he could have gotten on that raft with Kate Winclet instead of committing suicide, that was just stupid. Of all his movies, I liked him best in the one in which he played the cognitively challenged 12-year-old brother of the sizzling hot Johnny Depp as Gilbert Grape.

So about a year ago they came here under cover for a visit. The local press went wild, but Ms. Raf and Mr. DiC would not grant the local paparazzi, and thus the couple's adoring fans, even one measly picture. We know it was him though, as one lucky paparaz got a very distinctive picture of the back of Leo's baseball cap slightly blocked by a rolled up newspaper and a security guard's fist.

Stung and licking its collective wounds, the local press hung poor Bar out to dry. They raked her over the coals with a few choice quotations nicely detached from context and blistered across the front page of the popular weekend newpaper supplement. People from all over the world who couldn't read the article because it wasn't in English read the English online recap and sent all sorts of anti-Bar talkbacks, except a few men who were able to read between the lines, or maybe just read the pictures.

But now that Bar is the first local girl to be on the cover of Sports Illustrated, everyone loves her again.

It's like, if you live in a one-horse town, and that horse wins the Kentucky Derby, and then that horse doesn't want to have it's picture taken with the Mayor, everyone gets all bent out of shape and boycotts the horse. But you can't really boycott it for long because, after all, it is the only horse in town.

Jewish vs Chinese Chicken Soup

2009-02-20T10:48:00.006+02:00

I never thought I'd find a food that I like better than Jewish chicken soup, especially my own. Even my father-in-law, who wouldn't touch any food I made, loved my Jewish chicken soup. He tasted it when he came in hungry one day, saw the soup, and thought my mother-in-law had made it. He could hardly believe that I was behind it. He liked the taste, and the fact that he got little cut up vegetables in every spoonfull, instead of a clear soup with whole vegetables submerged on the bottom.

So yesterday there was a sale on bean sprouts at the super and I found myself with a buickload of them and a chicken. Googling "Chinese Soup" did not produce anything that I had all the ingredients for, so I made a conglomorate. It's basically Jewish chicken soup with the addition of more garlic, bean sprouts, little green onions, soy sauce, brown sugar, vinegar, red hot chili peppers, and cilantro.

Anyway, I made a humongous pot of the soup that was supposed to last three people four days. That was one hour ago. Now half of it's gone and the other two people don't even know about it yet. It looks like I'm going to have to tell them because they are really hard to get along with when I eat all their food.

Alex

2009-02-19T19:27:00.016+02:00

I just saw Alex in the car next to me, waiting for a green light. I waved but he didn't respond. He may have recognized me though. He's just that way.

Alex is a computer whiz kid. He could troubleshoot and solve any problem. He'd shuffle into work everyday in his jeans and one of two t-shirts, either the one paying tribute to Led Zepplin or the other one celebrating death and a heavy metal band. Alex would never greet anyone or even make eye contact. He'd disappear into his cubicle and just sit there with his giant glasses and weird hair sticking up over the walls, rescuing customers all over the world.

One day Alex realized that he was the axel upon which customer service rotated, and put forth his request for appropriate compensation. The management thought to woo him with a trip abroad. They bought him a suit and sent him abroad to present a course. The course was a disaster. Evidently, they didn't consider that the ability to make eye contact and to speak clearly might be necessary qualities to look for in a trainer.

Alex got a better offer and left the company. The management realized too late that they should have given him a title and the raise he deserved and let him keep doing what he does best.

The job of my manager has come vacant three times since I've started working here but I never went for it. You couldn't pay me to manage our group. For one thing, we're a bunch of perfectionists who like to complain. We can go for 20 minutes having a heated discussion on a comma. The other reason is that I couldn't manage my way out of a plastic bag. Just because someone is good at their job does not mean that they can manage other people. Let me do my technical duties and I'm happy as a pop tart on the front page of the National Enquirer. Luckily for us all, even if I went for it I wouldn't get it because our management is smart enough to know that technical skill does not a manager make.

Airports, Security, and Whatever Turns You On

2009-02-12T21:22:00.034+02:00

My yearly pilgrimage to Wisconsin is approaching and I'm consider the various ways to get there. They all involve being cramped into a very small enclosed space in an upright position with no fresh air and no solid ground under me for hours and hours. Nightmare! But I promised my mom and the shopping in America kicks butt! So I consider my experiences at the various airports on the way:

San Francisco - I had been killing time in Starbucks with a "regular" American coffee which is NOT 6 oz. like over here, and found myself running late. So I got in line and was fidgeting about a bit because after that buickload of coffee, I needed the ladies but couldn't get out of line, when security pulls me out of line. "Who, me? Are you sure?"
What's up with SF? I got thoroughly searched, twice. I got to keep the most important clothes on, but standing in your socks with your arms out and your belt and coat in a plastic basket and guy waving a wand over you while strangers watch - maybe some people get off on that but I'm just not into it.

Amsterdam - We were there quite a while ago, but they were way ahead of their time. You could live in that airport for a week. They have everything. A quiet area with comfortable couches where the kiddies and I had a little nap, showers, everything. My only problem there was the food. If you don't eat weird looking meats, it's kind of hard to find food. Luckily I have my grandma's genes and saved the saltine crackers and the little cups of jello from the first flight. That's all we had for about 12 hours.

Chicago - Generic, impersonal... They did quite a thorough security search. It was verging on paranoid. I was travelling with two babies. The security guards took us outside to the luggage trucks, in the pouring rain, and one held the baby while the other held an umbrella over the two year old and me while I opened my Wisconsin suitcase to prove there was no bomb in it. Would I bring my kids along if I was going to blow up the plane?

Atlanta - Well-oiled airport. You are moved along in a herd by airport personnel who know exactly where you are going just by looking at you. How do they know that I'm catching a connecting and the guy next to me isn't? How did my suitcase magically show up just where I'm standing? Why is that dog getting all excited, do I look like a frickin terrorist?!?

Frankfurt - Do German people not drink coffee? On the way, we were roped off into a separate section to wait for our connecting flight and I really needed coffee. There was none. Nothing but vending machines. And these machines have never heard of dollars. Just because I'm in Europe I can't use dollars? My fellow travellers swapped me enough funny little European coins to buy a coffee substitute. It had chocolate in it, which has caffein, but it was the worst tasting eskimo pie of my life.

On the return flight, after an 7.5-hour all-night flight, I had a 4-hour layover and needed coffee badly. 6:00 a.m., seemingly no airport staff, and no coffee anywhere. Trendy expensive duty free perfume and cosmetics but no coffee. I was considering drinking a perfume tester for the alcohol when I finally saw airport staff.
"I must have coffee, isn't there any somewhere?"
"Sorry Ma'am, we're remodelling."
"I don't care, I MUST HAVE COFFEE!"
"Well, there's some in the main area but you'll have to pass through security."
Great, I'll just pass through security, I have 4 hours. Bad decision.
What can I tell you, I've never been that intimate with a woman in my life! That security guard didn't use a wand, she used her hands, with only about 20 men standing around watching. Do I look like I belong in a soft porn flick? I bet she does it to all the women who pass through and that her male coworkers tip her for doing that.

Milano - This is a popular destination for people who are boycotting deodorant, and you'd be surprised at how many of those there are. Hundreds. Maybe thousands. There are no lines. You just breath through your sleeve and try not to fall and be trampled while the unwashed masses push you toward the customs clerks. But no security incidents, the good folks at Milano couldn't care less if I'm gonna blow up the plane.

Belly Dancing Music, Buddy Guy, and Britney

2009-02-06T13:17:00.032+02:00

One row of houses sits between me and an elementary school. Every other Friday, the children get an "active recess". This means that someone is brought in to "activate" them. This may be due to the Ritalin revolution, the mini people's Valium. In any case, I love watching the wee ones dance around to the sounds of... belly dancing music and Cotton Eyed Joe. Strange venue, but better than what I got in elementary school. Our music had to be educational so we got classical and square dancing music (not the good kind) shoveled down our throats. My sister actually went for the classical. Well, in a way I did too.

It's just a matter of matching the music to the activity. I love classical music as long as it occurs while I am shopping. Even trance, which I was sure was created by mutant devils, has found its way into my heart as it is really good background music for doing stuff at the gym. Gregorian monk chants go well with having a meal at a trendy restaurant when someone else is paying. I love Buddy Guy when I'm washing the floor (thanks Martin), Incubus when riding in the car at night, Opera for watching mice trounce cats. Hip-hop is appropriate background music for undergoing root canal. Britney for getting your cubicle partner Sam to go take a walk so you can do something you don't want him to know about.

Here's how music has helped me: For too long my neighbor's young son had been sharing his love of trance with the entire neighborhood, precisely at the official start of Friday siesta. We have a nice bunch of neighbors and we all complained, but not to his face, even the lady with toddlers who lived above him. One day, zonked and trying desperately and unsuccessfully to fall asleep, I figured if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. I propped my acoustic generator on the window ledge, popped in the Rolling Stones (who I'm sure he'd never hear of) and cranked the volume up as high as it would go. Within minutes the trance was down to lullaby level, and I turned off the Stones and had a nap. After all, they are great for riding in a car, doing dishes, and being drunk, but I like my naps without musical accompaniment.

If you're wondering, Friday siesta time was never again violated by that boy, and we all lived happily ever after till his younger brother got a set of drums.

Just About the Weather

2009-02-03T19:55:00.016+02:00

I so don't miss the cold and the snow. Many a blog has mentioned the extreme cold and snow this year. People have been stuck without electricity and are sleeping in school gyms. Heathrow got a mere 8 inches but they're not used to it so they cancelled all the planes and folks are stuck sleeping in the airport. My hale and hardy mom who drove a bus till she was 78 is stuck in her tiny one bedroom apartment for active independent seniors sometimes for several days at a time. That area of Wisconsin has had schools closed on four separate days due to cold and snow. In my entire 17 years in Wisconsin we had only one day of school closed for snow. We spent it walking all over, sitting on top of telephone booths and so on. We must have done a good 5 miles that day. But I so don't miss it!

Over here we've had the mildest winter on record, or at least since I've been keeping record in my mind. It's barely gotten under 50 F. The flower bulbs I planted in November have already hatched. I haven't even gotten to wear my totally cool suede boots as it's too hot for that and I'm not some 18 year old or professional cheerleader who wears boots in summer, after all. The cat that I've been feeding since the kiddies promised me they would 10 years ago has not even put on any weight this winter.

Despite that, we're having the worse drought on record, or at least since I've been keeping record in my mind. Since we don't get any rain between April and November, we really need the bit that we do get 4 months of the year, but it seems to be boycotting us like obscure British trade unions and anarchists in Berkley. I've heard that scientists have found a way to squeeze water out of the air. It's not as big a deal as it sounds; the ancient Nabateans who lived in a turbo desert managed that by making mounds of pebbles that somehow trapped dew which was used for agriculture. Of course, the ancient Nabateans did not have water parks.

Who Should Wear the Combat Boots

2009-01-31T07:57:00.000+02:00

There are societies in which young men engage in combat from behind civilian shields, and societies in which civilians are shielded while young men engage in combat. Recently a section of our population, mostly young men and some young women, engaged in combat, risking their lives for the elderly, women, and children.

Should 19-year-olds have to put their lives on the line for their parents' and grandparents' generation? We have had a good 20+ years to work out our differences by voting, etc. Since we have failed miserably, maybe we should be the ones putting on our combat boots and going to war, and let the 19-year-olds stay home and watch TV.

I wouldn't be too successful at fighting. For one thing, I don't go anywhere in which coffee is not available. My mom wouldn't do too well either, as she needs at least one hand on her walker so how would she fire her M-16? The other side would be having similar issues, and we would have to find a better way to resolve the problems.

But we still have to prevent the testoserone issues of the younger generation from making them want to join the party. Using the money saved by not having a war, we could pay droves of ladies of the evening to dress up as virgins and walk around in groups of 72 and convince the young whippersnappers that heaven is here on earth.

Looking For Offramp Gets Facelift

2009-01-29T22:04:00.009+02:00

Not me - the blog! Angie at Cup of Snarky took my very generic blog and gave it an extreme makeover. You may notice some little quirks now and then as I screw things up while getting the feel of it - that's my fault, not Angie's.

Even more than the newness and professional look of it, what amazes me is that Angie didn't know me at all, yet invested her time in doing this for me. And that gave me a pick-me-up a week or two ago when I was all depressed about some stuff that was going on, and my mouse hand was hurting me even when I wasn't mousing. Angie, you mentioned karma in one of your "I Love" posts and I'm going to try to pass it on somehow.

So this is about all I can handle today. I'm ramping up slowly, and off to check out a few of my favorite blogs.

Zebra, you may now comment.

Temporarily (?) Out of Comission

2009-01-21T20:42:00.001+02:00

Hurt my hand, temporarily (?) out of commission.
Hope to resume blogging soon.

Take Your Blood, Free Cookie

2009-01-13T18:38:00.025+02:00

Our company has a blood drive twice a year. We got an email, thoughtfully translated to English for the foreigners:

"Welcome to tak your blood, free cookie!"

It's actually a Danish and it's all you can eat for only 1/2 liter of blood (!) so the blood drive is really popular.

I feel that it is my duty to provide, since I have really good blood. If that sounds stuck-up, you have to read the list of prohibitions to understand it:

Have you been to a farm in Portugal or Ireland in the past 6 months? I haven't even been to a frickin movie in the past 6 months.
Have you had unprotected sex in the past 6 months? I'm married, I haven't had any for a year.
Have you had sex with a farm animal in the past 2 years? It was a long, long, time ago and he looked human. He became a jackass afterward.

The list goes on and on and ON. Since you can't be pregnant, half the women can't give as women are always pregnant here. So you see, I really must make an effort, and there's the free danish.

Since I have bashful veins, I usually come out of it with bruises all over one or both arms. Last time the medic (nurse?) who took my blood was talking on his mobile the whole time and I ended up with grapefruit size bruises on both arms that hurt for over a week. I didn't give for a year after that.

So, I'm standing in line and it's almost my turn. There's a medic near where we're lining up, another in the middle, and a nurse on the far end. The two doners closer to us both have their arms up, indicating they're almost done. And I'm thinking that I really don't want to be on the close end 'cause I don't like the idea of being flat on my back with my coworkers lining up 3 feet away. And it looks like that's where I'm gonna be, cause the guy there is almost done. So I thought I'd give someone else my turn, and wait for the nurse on the far side. But the medic nearby is from the refugee ethnic group I told you about before, and I know they are subject to alot of flak, so if I don't go when he gets free, he might take it as personal. I don't wan't to hurt his feelings, so I figure I had just better suck it up and go.

But just then, middle medic is ready for the next in line! As I took a step toward him, the woman behind me asks if I mind if she skips me, she wants him to take her blood. Darn! What could I do, I figured she knows him or something. and she asked, so I let her take my turn.

I got the medic near the line. He had trouble finding a vein, as always happens with me, and it took 25 minutes to get the half-liter, just barely, but he got it.

The woman who skipped me was having her free danish when I got there.
"Is that your neighbor or something?" I asked her about the medic who took her blood.
"No, I wanted someone who looks trustworth" she answered, "but maybe I was wrong, it really hurt, he wasn't so good".
I had to rub it in and said "My guy was so gentle."

That was yesterday. Today my arm is perfectly unbruised, with only a tiny dot where the needle went in. That has never happened before, so I called the woman who organized it and told her to please convey my thanks to the guy who took my blood. She said others had commented too about how good he was.

Take my blood, free cookie, no bruises.

Dating and Psychology 101

2009-01-10T18:06:00.019+02:00

Before there were movie theater complexes, there were little private movie theaters. One of these was situated on the main drag, not far near the university where my dad taught psychology. It had a bay window right out on the street where the cashier, me, sat. I was 17 and lucky to get a job, as the college kids were prefered.

One day a very cute guy bought tickets from me. Maybe I smiled at him, I don't remember, but during the movie he came out and started to talk to me and to make a long story short, invited me to go bowling. I was thrilled. He was in college, in his 20s! My friends would be so jealous.

When I casually announced it to my dad he hit the ceiling. It was as if I had announced that I'm quitting high school to become a stripper. He went on and On and ON, about it: I couldn't go, the guy was sleazy for presuming to talk to me, he was obviously a pedophile, he had a stupid major, I couldn't go, etc. etc. As my dad went on, I did the 17 year old thing: hunkered down and prepared to go out with him no matter what.

Suddenly my dad stops in mid rant and does a total U-turn: "Good grief, what am I thinking? Here I'm telling you what to do when you are a sensible, mature young woman who has shown me time and again that she can make good choices, blah blah and blah." He was so obvious. I knew he was doing the psych 101 thing on me. I knew it the minute he opened his mouth, I was disappointed that he was so transparent. I expected something better, much more subtle, from a psychologist.

Worst of all, I was caught like a fly on sticky paper, and I knew that he had check-mated me. I cancelled the date.
I have used this on my kids. It works really well.

An Elephant and a Composter

2009-01-08T18:23:00.025+02:00

Before I begin, there is a big elephant sitting in the middle of my blogroom. I'm avoiding it like the plague, because I'm no good at politics, so I leave that to those who do it well, like Politics by Satire, whose blog I really like, and others. But I'm happy as a baby in jello because my daughter is coming home after dodging missiles for too long.

What could be better than a baby in jello? Naturally, two babies in jello: I've discovered the world of compost. Our garden is about the size of a small American master bedroom. But I realized its potential on a trip to Milan where the tiniest gardens are so well kept and full of beautiful roses.

For the past three years I've been growing things by trial and error. I found that basil and chili peppers do best in the shade during summer and in the sun during fall. Herbs such as parsley and cilantro don't do well, period. Radishes do best when you don't dig a hole and pour the entire seed packet into it. Who would've guessed? The couple seeds that missed the community hole came out big, fat, and round while the ones who had company and other radishes to hang out with came out very, very skinny.

Anyway, it seems that those few lucky people who sell composters are happy, happy people. All three guys were were incredibly pleasant and chatty. One offered to bring the composter to my house. Another told me he was going up north tomorrow and invited me along. Actually, it seemed like they had been smoking the compost. I'll find out tomorrow when I go get my composter.

One last thought if you're still with me: After Dooce, who is managing just fine without me, Mattress Police was was the first blog I followed, and unlike Dooce, Diesel actually replies to comments sometimes, so I voted for Diesel yesterday and though it doesn't look like he's been kissing the right butts, I hope he wins.

The Girls Discuss the Effects of Cellular Repeaters

2009-01-07T21:42:00.005+02:00

From: Sigi
Subject: Cellular repeaters above our heads

Doesn't this bother any of you?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cellular_repeater
-----------------------------------------------------

From: Ora
Subject: RE: Cellular repeaters above our heads

Luckily I don't need my brain so much anymore.
But skipping down the Darwin path, I guess future generations will be those whose DNA is more resistant to radiation.
-----------------------------------------------------

From: Z
Subject: RE: Cellular repeaters above our heads

I’ve read about research into merging human and cockroach DNA because cockroaches can survive nuclear war. There are a few problems: full-humans cannot get over their fear of huroaches, huroaches have huge antennae, huroaches often get stamped on by full-humans.
-----------------------------------------------------

From: Ora
Subject: RE: Cellular repeaters above our heads

If it is successful it will spawn a whole new genre of movies starring some hot guy with a ponytail whose job it is to find a way to exterminate a really nasty strain of cockoumans who want to take over the western world and cannot be killed even with New Extra Strength Poison-Enriched K300. I think Amehdinajad is being considered for the supporting role of head of the cockoumans.

Alpha Males I

2009-01-05T19:42:00.008+02:00

Had a meeting with three alpha males today: my boss, my other boss, and his boss. They are all really nice guys but try saying even one word. The meeting is about whether I can deliver my product on time in that new application I once mentioned being trained AS IF on. My other boss, cutting me off: "Ora, I know what you're going to say. You're going to say blah blah blada blah..."

Fifteen minutes later, the three of them are still arguing, Other Boss turns out not to be a mind reader, I have not asked my question, I'm not listening to a thing that any of them are saying cause I'm concentrating, trying to find an opportunity to ask my very important question, and I'm wondering how anyone has the energy to be an alpha male.

And what reminded me of this was the recent post about going back to work by Wits Bitch who I tried for the first time today, and to which I could totally relate. Except that since they recently layed off 25% of my coworkers, and keep talking about our dreary outlook, kissing corporate ass does not bother me right now. In fact, I am willing to kiss the entire middle and upper management's asses in an ass-kissing marathon, just let me stay. Line up outside my gray cubicle and I'll kiss till my lips fall off.

The Perfect Woman

2009-01-04T17:48:00.014+02:00

This is going to sound perverted, but here goes:

We have a newish girl at work. She's a tiny teen, tottering about on 4 inch stilettos. Well, she has to be at least in her late 20's but she is tiny and comes to work looking perfect every day. Perfect clothes, perfect hair, perfect body, and judging from her perfect position, she is intelligent, and she bakes perfect brownies. The type of person you want to drown in the toilet. But she promised to give us the recipe so we let her live.

One day when she teetered by while I was eating with my friends. I stopped in mid-sentence and just stared at her butt. No amount of exercise could give you that butt. Believe me, I tried.

My friends were all "Ora, what's up, what are you looking at, are you OK?" I couldn't believe it. Her perfect butt is the one I ordered when I was a fetus and the Power that Be was showing me the DIY Butt catalog. I know I chose that butt, I ordered it, it should have been mine!

How can one person get it all? Why am I not that one person? Maybe I was a person who kicked dogs in a previous life so I didn't deserve to get that butt. If that's how it works, she was surely Mother Theresa in her previous life.

Anyway, I'd get you a picture but there are security cameras all over and if they caught me running around with a camera, scrunching down to the level of her perfect butt and taking pictures, you know how that would go. Considering the economy, I don't want to risk it.

Of course my friends now refer to her behind her butt as "There Goes Ora's Butt". Yeah, rub it in.

Natural Cure for Hemorrhoids

2009-01-02T17:15:00.019+02:00

For Father Muskrat, whose blog I tried yesterday and read about dinosaur hemorrhoids, I have a tried and tested cure.
One of my Male Relatives who prefers to remain anonymous (heretoforth MR) had suffered from hemorrhoids for years. It had been getting worse. Every time I called him he was angry at me for getting him off the toilet. He was cranky and preoccupied with the subject. He began to take an unnerving interest in other people's bathroom successes.

The creams and pills from the doctor were not helping, and MR was already taking a buickload of pills for another condition. We needed to find something natural, but he wouldn't eat broccoli, a sure-fire fix, as he considers it woman food, poisonous to men.

The following will sound like an obnoxious infomercial, but bear with me. Picture a woman in a magenta turtleneck sitting on a couch smiling like an over-caffeinated pumpkin, holding up a glass of something and talking animatedly about it.

I read that hemorrhoids may be caused by constipation, and remembered reading about a fruit fix in the Healthy for Life Diet (or something like that, I'm translating to English). Two mornings in a row I made MR a fruit shake - one cup of cut up fresh fruit and orange juice blended. The second day he had finally experienced his own bathroom success. I've been making him the fruit shake ever since, 5 years (!) and the hemorrhoids have not returned, happlily ever after.

Here are the important points:

Drink the juice first thing in the morning, on an empty stomach. If you're used to coffee first thing in the morning, or beer if you're from Wisconsin, this takes some getting used to.
Use fresh fruit whenever possible. If you can't get fresh oranges, use juice with pulp.
If you don't have time to mess with the blender, just cut up 2-3 types of fruit.
Don't add anything - no water, sugar, etc.
Don't eat or drink anything for half an hour after.

Your bowels will thank you, and you can write and let me know how that's working out for you.

Neighbors

2009-01-01T19:43:00.010+02:00

When we moved into a new neighborhood, I met Karrie, the only other American in the neighborhood. Her son was two like my daughter, and Karrie, like me, was pregnant. We started hanging out.

My second daughter was born, and my oldest daughter's two year birthday was approaching, so I was glad to have a friend to invite to celebrate. As I had my hands full with a one month old baby, it would be small and simple. I baked a cake, bought a few little prizes for Karrie's son and my daughter, and decorated the living room with balloons and streamers. The time came but Karrie didn't. After waiting a bit, we went over to her building to see if she was ok, and a neighbor told us she had gone to the hospital that night to have her baby.

On the way back, I saw four or five Ethiopian children playing on the grass and recognized one, a girl of about nine, who lived in our building. I invited them to come have some cake and ice cream. This was before you didn't do that. They were happy to join us and were playing and having a good time when I noticed that the nine year old girl wasn't with them. I found her in the kitchen, straightening up and doing dishes. I told her I'd do them later and asked why she didn't join the younger kids. She said "no, you have your hands full enough, you rest a bit, I can do these." It amazed me that such a young girl would have that kind of insight.

But as I got to know my neighbors better, their helpfulness and quiet ways became aparent. There was no elevator, and as I'd be going up the stairs with the baby in one arm and groceries or the stroller in the other, I'd suddenly feel someone gently taking the stroller or groceries or my older daughter's hand and carrying them up to our door.

Karrie saw things differently. These neighbors were refugees, they didn't take care of the building, their kids were left unsupervised, etc. I can't say this wasn't true. Karrie told me how she had stood blocking the stairs to prevent them from bringing chickens into the building.

But I guess it's how you look at things: They couldn't understand that, as Karrie brought a dog and cat into her apartment.

Awards

2009-01-01T14:41:00.002+02:00

Thank you Papercages

Expert Cooperation in a Bad Economy

2008-12-30T19:48:00.015+02:00

My employer has laid off 25% of our workforce at our branch, and besides the effect on moral, it's having other influences.

Our King of Electricity, I'll call him Louie, is a very important and sought-after person. Everyone needs him for various aspects of their work, so getting his time and attention is a bit of a task. I had an urgent assignment to finish. I got everybody's OK and all I needed was for Louie to OK the unit of measure — V AC — in a sentence.

For a week I ran after him by phone and email. He'd brush me off, tell me how busy he was, and outright ignore me. My boss was starting to get nervous.

I was getting desperate, so I wrote Louie a poem and sent it by email:

Louie, Louie,
Thou hast forsaken me
You don't reply
You elusive guy
Do I keep the V AC?

So, I won't be winning any literary prizes. But hey, no one ever wrote me a poem at work! I thought it was a nice touch. But Louie did not appreciate my poem and ignored me even more. My boss was pressing for me to complete my task.

In the meantime, two of my coworkers had filled up another guy's cubicle with balloons as a practical joke. The next day I took half of the baloons, wrote V AC on them, and left them all over his messy cubicle. You'd think something like that would evoke a response but NOTHING! Maybe he didn't even notice the balloons among the mess. My boss asked if he needed to get involved. I still wanted to handle it myself.

A friend of mine suggested offering him a blow job. This may have been a tactic likely to produce results, but now I felt it was only fair for my boss to do the honors. Suddenly he didn't want to get involved, go figure.

In the end, I left the V AC in and declared the item complete. No one questioned me.

Now, months later, when I sent Louie an email about a new item, expecting no reply, he shows up at my cubicle, tells me that we should set up a time and he'll give me the replies directly. I sent him a meeting mail. He didn't reply the same day, but comes to me while I'm standing on line for lunch, APPOLOGIZES for not getting back to me immediately cause he was sick, and then shows up on his own volition at my cubicle, sits for 20 minutes, answers all my questions, commiserates with me about the bad lighting, and advises me about my home electrical issues!

For a while this change in behavior was a total mystery, as I am not getting any hotter as the years go by. But I finally figured it out: All of a sudden he doesn't have much work due to The Economy and is trying to fill up his project hours!

Or maybe he heard about the blow job.

Blogging Obsession

2008-12-29T19:57:00.001+02:00

I was in the shower when I felt a blog post coming on. I slammed the faucet down, threw on a towel, and raced for the computer. The towel didn't totally dry me off and I slipped in my own drip dry water and fell flat on my butt. Broken and bruised, I crawled to the computer and with my last gram of strength, assumed the position and started typing.

I've been at this less than two months, but every night I spend a good three hours on the computer after a 9+ hour day on the computer at work.
My mouse hand is way sore.

Twice I've deleted posts that I thought were stupid, only to have my work buddies or another blogger say that they liked that particular post and ask why I deleted it. Maybe I should leave them in. Besides, even though I delete them, parts of them still appear on Humor Blogs, like vampires that refuse to die. (Note to self: buy steaks, garlic, and crosses)

The following questions remain unanswered:

Is there such thing as blog ettiquette? If someone leaves me a comment or a smiley do I automatically return the favor, even if I can't think of anything intelligent to say or didn't understand the post? What about keepin' it real?

If Diesel answers my email, do I write back to thank him or leave him in peace as he probably has buickloads of bloggers to process?

What is going on with English? I visit blogs of the people who visit mine, but some posts go over my head as I've been out of the country too long and there are all these words - snarky, meme, etc., that were not there when I left, and stores and restaurants that I haven't heard of, and googling every other sentence messes up the flow...

How many times can I vote for myself? Is it stupid not to? Like on America's Next Top Model which I never watch when Tyra asks Amberjessicait which girl she thinks should win and then when Amberjessicait says one of the other girls' name, Tyra votes Amberjessicait off because she "doesn't want this enough".

The High School Marching Band

2008-12-23T21:50:00.017+02:00

Out to lunch

Helping a Coworker

2008-12-21T22:07:00.003+02:00

From: Z
Subject: Peer support paranoia: FM hates me.

OK, hands up - who knows why *suddenly* my headers on random pages have GONE ON HOLIDAY. I’m talking FM. I’m talking new template. I’m talking have tried re-importing template. I’m talking PLEASE help me. I passed the end of my tether. My tether is a DOT to me.

---
From: Ora

Sorry, I don't know why. Has anyone replied?

---
From: Z

No! I so feel like crying.

---
From: Ora

Maybe you should contact Tech Support?

---
From: Z

Problem solved by the old cut and paste into clean document workaround. I then had to repeat the procedure on three other infected chapters. And now my chapter files are coming out A4 when the rest are custom. Vent vent vent.

---
From: Ora

How can I cheer you up?

You are not a resident of Dafur.
The cable selection is so bad it can only get better .
You can get up and go get coffee whenever you want to while policemen and skyscraper window cleaners cannot always do that.
You don't have to cut up dead bodies to make a living.

---
From: Z

Its ok. There is more:

I don't have to run around flea infested and fight for food like street cats.
I didn’t have to guess the obscure name of a silly little man who spun straw into gold for me in return for my firstborn in order that I get to marry the king.
I am not Britney Spears.

---
From: Ora

Your husband is not the costar of Angelina Jolie.
No one has tied you to your chair and forced you to watch America's Next Top Model.
You are not married to Amedinejad.

---
From: Z

Somebody somewhere has to do far more for their husband than I do.
In Jamaica, your afro is a fire hazard when lighting your ganja

I have never been bitten by a crocodile.

---
From: Ora

This reminds me of the scene in 8 Miles with Eminem where they rap-joust.
I concede, yours are better than mine.

Picking the Perfect Program

2008-12-18T19:59:00.016+02:00

A few days ago I told you about the first day of training on a new software program, during which I decided that I had AOADD. I still think I have it, but I'm beginning to think that this particular software is not so innocent. This program is painfully slow and has no advantages visible to the human eye.

The developers of this "suite" were on drugs. I can imagine the process:

"What's the easiest way enable copying a file - copy/paste?"
"That's so unoriginal. This package will have three different programs open at the same time. You select the folder in which you want to paste the file, jump into a different program to give it new parameters, go to back to the first program, locate the file to be copied, open the Action menu, and click Clone."
"What's the third program for?"
"I haven't figured that out yet, but it'll be really awsome when I do"
"Dude!" (high five)

The Comittee for Synergizing Application Implementation was on a budget. I imagine that the selection process went something like this:

"Application A is the Rolls Royce of its kind. It will not only resolve the issues we were having, but guarantees increased throughput and a smoother workflow. If we go with this, we'll receive on-site assistance throughout every step of the move, full training for all users, and a five-year warranty!"
"Whoa, but look at the price tag! That's out of our league."
"Well, application B has ten satisfied beta customers from companies just like ours and they'll provide training for the administrators."
"Still pretty steep. What are the other choices?"
"If we go with application C, we'll get a free microwave."
"Dude!" (high five)

Adult Onset Attention Deficit Disorder

2008-12-15T22:17:00.009+02:00

I was recently self-diagnosed with Adult Onset Attention Deficit Disorder (AOADD). The disease presented in a session in which my boss was teaching us how to use a new software. Normally we have to figure these out on our own, but this one is a tricky little devil and my boss likes to lecture so it was the perfect opportunity for him to get attention without showing up in public sans underpants. He scheduled three consecutive all-day sessions.
An hour and 15 minutes into the session, we had theoretically learned how to check out a file. This procedure consists of 5 mouse clicks, but with my AOADD I was unable to follow the lecture. His pointer was going, his mouth was going, words were coming out, small words, English words. They floated right past me where I could almost reach out and touch them, like the monster in Young Frankenstein, trying to catch the music, but I couldn't seem to grasp them. I found myself making a grocery list and building my own Sudoku.
My coworkers seemed to be following. I hated them as they smugly blurted out their comments and questions. I hated them for having a higher boredom threshold than mine.
My husband agrees that I have a problem as I get fidgety during simple instructions such as "Do not go shopping", and cannot sit still throughout the daily lecture on topics such as Turning Out the Lights as the TV/Computer Screen Provides its Own Light Source, and Why We Don't Need Someone to Paint the House Since it Would Cost Less if I (Lady Offramp) Took a Day Off Work to Do It.

Presence of Penis Prohibits Use of Kitchen Appliances

2008-12-13T11:23:00.011+02:00

Mr. Offramp is a old-fashioned Mediterranean Man. As such, he cannot feed himself. For our purposes, "feeding oneself" includes slapping a piece of cheese between two pieces of bread, or heating an already-cooked meal in a microwave. Since I work a 9 hour day, and since not eating puts him at the risk of loss of sight or a leg, this can make my life difficult at times.

It doesn't matter how hungry he is, if there is a woman anywhere in the area or expected to show up within 6 hours, he will wait. If you cannot pee standing up and can spread homous on a piece of bread, you qualify as a woman. The offramps daughters have been feeding their daddy since they were in first grade, and Martha Stewart had nothing on them. They know the importance of presentation.
No peanut butter sandwich was ever served without pickle eyes and a ketchup smile. A humous sandwich often included "I love Daddy" written in craisins.

As they grew up, they began to ask difficult questions about their father's inability to perform these seemingly simple tasks. How come their daddy can change a flat tire but cannot press "Start" + "1 Min" on a microwave? How is it that the presence of a penis prohibits the operation of a can opener? The kind of question for which I don't have an answer.

I begin to question myself. Is it possible that the lack of a penis is not the reason behind my inability to kill my own cockroaches? No, Virginia, a cockroach is not an animal, and if it crosses the threshold of our abode, it's every man for himself. So why can't I take a shoe and show it who is the boss? Why am I outside on the porch for two hours until Mr. Offramp gets home and zaps it with the K300?

To the Anonymous Person Who Was My First

2008-12-11T22:29:00.003+02:00

Thank You!
Today I was shocked to see that someone had given me a smiley. Three, even! My daughter and I danced around the kitchen for a few minutes until we knocked over the hot sauce and Mr. Offramp politely ordered us to stuff a sock in it while the game is on.
Since none of my relatives read anything I write, it was either a) someone I don't know, or b) some of the smileys that got bumped off when Diesel reset everything found their way to me.
I'm so happy!

Hitchin' a Ride

2008-12-11T21:10:00.004+02:00

What do you do when a co-worker who is asking for a ride on a regular basis smells like a decomposing body in an outhouse? I don't know what to do. I know, I'm too stupid to tell him he reeks so I deserve him. But I can't just tell him that. Having an innocent monolog about a great new deodorant will not do the trick, as it is a multi-orifice issue. Should I just go on and on about the various hygene products on the market every time I pick him up, and hope that he'll take the hint?

I hate to admit it but yesterday as I was leaving I saw that he was calling me and I simply didn't answer the phone. I felt guilty about that all night, so when he called this morning I picked him up and now I'm sorry I did. It's a long ride and I could hardly breathe the whole time. It was too cold to open a window so I was driving with my face pointed 15 degrees to the left and taking shallow breaths. It was actually giving me a headache. When we got to work, in order to breathe a.s.a.p., I avoided getting into the elevator with him and told him to go on ahead as I had to check something in my car. I hung around the car for 5 minutes to make sure that he wouldn't be still waiting for the elevator when I got there. Even though the parking space I found was near the garbage containers, breathing felt nice.

Are you gay today?

2008-12-10T19:54:00.007+02:00

I read that a Dutch gay group is planning a pink Christmas with two Josephs and two Marys. Not sure I understand this, as records indicate that Joseph and Mary were a straight couple. Isn't it kind of like getting a straight guy to play Truman Capote, or Liberace? Or a gay guy to play John Wayne, or a straight guy to play Jack on Will and Grace?

In my kids' high school, gay was the thing to be. If you were gay, you had arrived. You were Automatically Popular, which guarantees you a life of nostalgia every time you think about high school. (A note about popular: those who weren't move on and live productive lives, while those who were may end up like a friend of mine, looking back to when she peaked, and still talking about it all the time 20 years later.) So in the effort to be popular, a couple of the boys decided to be gay. It took years before they realized that they weren't. Or till they gave up the charade in order to get girls.

In America, the gay people have been pushed into a corner and are being forced to deal with it by calling in gay. At my work, we needn't worry. We are an equal opportunity employer. Everyone is welcome and appreciated. As long as you are doing your job and bringing in money for the stockholders, and use deodorant, nobody cares about your religion, your politics, or who you do in your spare time.

Blogging Question: How Long?

2008-12-09T18:57:00.010+02:00

Can any of you long-time bloggers tell me how long it takes before you get readers?

I go online every night after work for 2-3 hours just fixing up this blog and reading other peoples' blogs, but all quiet on the middle-eastern front. (Probably the only front in the entire middle-east where all is quiet.)

Got a new heading - not that too many people will notice, and certainly none of my family, who couldn't care less about my blog. Oh yes, they each went in once when I called them long distance and begged. But that's OK, I've cut them off from email. It's been two weeks already but they haven't seemed to notice.

For them, email is a BAD thing. Instead of sending me accolades and marmalades to thank me for taking the time to make sure that no good joke that passes through my mailbox goes unforwarded and that they are aware of every possible threat to their health, they actually hinted that they don't even read them all(!) When someone from the Midwest tells you that, it means that a) the mail sits in their inbox taking up space because they wouldn't want to be impolite and delete it b) they have allowed you to become an absolute pain in the enema insertion location c) they can't send you any email to ask why you haven't sent any email in two weeks because their inbox has been over its limit since 1998, a year after you started sending them email.

I'm kind of baiting them. Now I'll know if they do go in.

Take Off Your Clothes So That I Can Look In Your Ear

2008-12-07T19:20:00.002+02:00

America is a great place, but I was never fond of the medical system. You go to the doctor for an ear ache and you're told to strip and it's not because anyone's into you cause you've been dieting and look really hot despite the bloated red ear. Why can't they look in your ear while you're wearing your clothes? If they did that you'd be in and out in 5 minutes and not waste your whole frickin' day hanging out with sick people.

It's not enough for doctors that they make buickloads of money and have the title Dr., which in itself is a known aprodisiac. They want to mess with your head and make you totally insecure in case they run into you at the mall.

Over here we have socialized medicine. Everything but your teeth is totally taken care of, it's really great. Your family doctor has about four hours to process 50 people and he's making less money than your daughter the waitress, so he's not going to waste his time making you strip. He's going to look in your ear and know how to deal with you in two seconds flat. He'll either write you a prescription or send you for a lab test. He doesn't need to see your butt and mess with your head to do that.

My cubemate had nothing but good things to email me about his recent medical visit:
"Today I was at the doctor’s. She told me to take off my clothes and then she had a rummage around. It cost me one hour's parking and I never had to buy her a drink! Money well spent indeed!" (His ache was not in his ear.)

Prospective Son-in-Law

2008-12-02T22:11:00.008+02:00

If I had been born two days later, I would have had to wait another year to start school. That may have been a better scenario, as I was a bit socially immature. While I was trying to encircle the playground without letting my feet touch the ground by clinging to a wire fence, my classmate who was also my next door neighbor was working her way through the boys of the class. I don't know how much sugar they were getting, but it was enough for them to mow her parents' lawn regularly. My mom would make sarcastic comments about it, but somewhere deep down, I think she wanted me to bring home a lawn mower.

As the saying goes, the nut doesn't fall far from the tree. Since my oldest daughter was four, I've been checking out future sons-in-law. Hmm, that doesn't sound too good. What I mean is that I've given careful thought to the qualities I'd like to see in a son-in-law. Since I don't have much of a lawn anymore, a boy who can merely mow lawns is not such a great catch for this family, and a doctor does not get me excited as we have socialized medicine over here, and I can go see a doctor whenever I want, and have a variety of operations free of charge. The best possible son-in-law would have to be a mechanic or IT person - what more could one hope for? I could get my tires rotated and my DVD drive installed while I watch Big Love. I know what you're thinking. How to get the kiddies to comply?

Several years ago elder Offramp daughter brought home a nice boy. He seemed OK at first. He showed up with a bouquet of flowers for her and some pastries for us, the parents. Bribe the parents, and with pastry to boot, nice touch! But that was the first and last time we saw him up close. Mr. Offramp didn't know what he had done to scare the boy silly, and neither did I, but he was so scared of her daddy that he wouldn't come into the house.

In the meantime, I've found two future sons-in-law. They are so much fun when they are here. We have a great relationship, lots of laughs, everything is smooth and comfortable, neither is afraid of Mr. Offramp, and while neither is a mechanic or IT person, I know they'd be willing to clean up my code or look under the hood if they knew what those were, and it's the thought that counts. Strangely enough, they are both studying acting. The thing is that these boys are my daughters' friends, not boyfriends, and that they may not want to convert. The thing is that they are not straight.

Our ancestors wouldn't have had a problem with that. They found an acceptable future son-in-law, and they married the daughter off at 13, before she had a chance to drive them insane by staying out till all hours and coming home with piercing and smelling like a buickload of cigarettes. They didn't concern themselves with little details like the boy wanting to be the bride.

It's too soon, really. The girls have some time before I start dropping subtle hints.

English - A Slightly Warped View from the Other Side

2008-12-02T05:55:00.003+02:00

As I suck myself deeper and deeper into this blogging thing, I've noticed that alot of the really good bloggers paprica their speech with cool-sounding words, like the F word and the S word, and other flavorful slang of the new millenium. I'm wondering if I should work these words in to my posts.

The problem is that I've been ripvanwinkling over here and am out of the loop regarding normal American speech. Sure I've got cable, which is my main connection with normal American speech. But it's hard to tell what is real.

Do most Americans speak like on MTV, deadpanning obscenities while grabbing their crotches in normal conversation?

On Dr. Phil, the B word comes up alot. Is it correct nowadays to address the female with whom you are having a conversation as "Beatch"? Has this replaced "Miss" or "Ma'am"?

My kid's reality shows make me wonder whether "like" has, like, replaced the word "the" as the most commonly used word in the English language? Have the cryptographers picked up on this?

The crime shows pose the biggest dilema. In the gritty realistic crime shows, The Shield for example, I have to read the foreign language subtitles because I can't understand the English, while on another cop show, a blond girl with big blue eyes solves crimes on a regular basis, in English, without once resorting to the F word or S word. I have to wonder how does she manage? And which is more representative of The America People?

For me, these were driving words, to be used in the car when required. I'd have to change the settings in my head to get them into print. One more thing to ponder.

Cave Daddy

2008-11-30T19:44:00.000+02:00

Not long ago I had the opportunity to nab some of my brother's DNA but I took the high road and didn't do it.

I needed it for the National Geographic genographic project, in which you send your spit to National Geographic and they extract the DNA and tell you who your great great great great etc. ancestors were. If you are female, you can get your mother's mother's mother's etc. line. If you are male, you can get either your father's father's father's etc. line, or your mother's. So my sister sent in her spit, which represented all of us, but since my brother is the only male, we need his spit to get my dad's line.

Since my brother is afraid that Pres. George Bush is personally after his spit and will use it for unholy purposes if obtained, he refused to part with any, even though Pres. Bush does not work for National Geographic. We made due with only half the family spit and discovered that our cave mom lived in northern Europe about 15,000 years ago and had many decendents, many of whom became French. I was excited to discover that I may be related to the amazingly hot President Sarkozy.

Ever since I found out that I'm French, I've been craving croissants.

I was kind of hoping that my cave daddy would be from Morocco because I love Moroccan food. But my brother who doesn't read my blog may rest assured that his spit is safe with him and I will never steal it even if he happens to fall asleep and drool while I'm in the same car with him.

Population Dispersal and Condoms

2008-11-29T09:53:00.009+02:00

Survey: French Men Say They Need Bigger Condoms - I saw this on Fox. The survey also said that "...Frenchmen on average claim to need 15.48 centimeters (6.09 inches) long condoms, about 3 centimeters longer than Greeks, whose condom size requirement was the most modest.".

Tomorrows headlines: French Border Patrols Rendered Impotent in Stopping Geyser-like Gush of Greek Girls Flowing into France.

Spam and a Shared Womb

2008-11-25T18:32:00.007+02:00

Have you ever wondered about the people now inhabiting the old family homestead or your old dorm room or whatever? Me neither, but I do wonder about the people who inhabited the womb after me. On the one hand, we share DNA, though different combinations, and share the same childhood to a large extent. On the other hand, we may be from different planets.

Two of them have already told me, in the most polite Midwestern terms, that I send too much email. I couldn’t believe they don’t even read what I send, because I send only the best top quality threads, lovingly gleaned, especially for them, from the Buickloads of shlock adorning my inbox.

My daughter, not being from the Midwest, was more direct. She called me “The Queen of Spam”. While that is debatable, as I have never sent anyone offers to enlarge their penis, I kind of like having a title. Z. sent me a link to a list of titles used on the British Airways site that was half a mile long. There must have been over one hundred titles on that site. My favorite is Air Commodore. It kind of makes the part that follows lose any significance. If someone were introduced to me as "Air Commodore Jones" the only part of that handle I'd remember is Air Commodore, and long after the original introduction. Even if I never saw Air Commodore What's His Name again.

Back to my family, I should excuse my sister because if her computer were human it would be going through puberty and giving her more trouble than it does already. The other two may not know how to comment or may be blowing my off consciously or sub-consciously because in an earlier post I gave them a list of comments to copy and paste, which included nasty ones to enable free self-expression.

But the bottom line is, I am chopped liver and since they're not reading this I can write whatever I want!

To My Loyal Readers

2008-11-24T18:56:00.007+02:00

Dear Loyal Readers,

I know you are out there. I know because now 6 of you have sent me emails about the blog, and because nobody I know lives in Fargo and Dusseldorf when I had my feedjit utility turned on.

I'm a comment junky. I comment on almost every site that allows comments. It's like having a conversation with a total stranger by internet and you can say anything you want cause nobody knows it's you.
One of the sites I'm in and out of regularly gets hate mail from the far right and the far left all over the world. Every time I read their articles and then those comments my blood pressure races right out of my ears like more naked people racing to be photographed naked as jay birds in the town square. I'd tell you who the site is but I hate them so I'm not gonna give them a plug.

Anyway, this blog has been up and running for like almost 3 weeks and the comments have been pouring in like rockers to a Donny Osmond (google it) concert. I thought I could count on my relatives but Mr. and Msssss Too Busy To Read My Sister's Blog evidently don't have time. I know my mom would comment and think it was wonderful because she loves me but I can't let her see this. So as a public service and to help some of the commentally-challenged, here are some standard comments for you to cut and paste:

This sucks, you suck

I want to have your baby

I hate your stupid blog why would you even think anyone would read this crappola or take the time to comment?

Just say NO! to lookingforofframp

You have put into words what I have been feeling all my life

You are a mutant lower life form who should be eradicated from the blogosphere

When I read this all I could think was that you have reached deep deep into my throat and played upon my heartstrings

You are the child of satan and even he wouldn't read this crap

I'm satan, speak for yourself

Giant Meteor Lights Up Canadian Sky

2008-11-23T20:50:00.009+02:00

Scientists Searching for Meteor That Lit Up Canadian Sky
I'm jealous. First of all, because intense weather is interesting unless you're stuck talking about it to someone for an hour because you don't dare bring up politics or sex.
Second, because the article quoted a woman whose 10-year-old daughter ran into a room and said "...there was a flash of light, the house shook twice and it sounded like dinosaurs were walking."
The comparison to dinosaurs was so sweet. I wouldn't have thought of that. For one thing, we don't have any here, but I'm not surprised that the Canadians have them. They certainly have room. Second, in my little corner of paradise, if I hear a loud noise accompanied by vibration I immediately think one of two things: "bomb" or "cellphone".
While my brother in America was able to hold out until mid 2008 to get his first cellphone, to which he still hasn't given me the number, over here there are more cellphones than people. You can't take a bus ride without hearing five people discussing who will pick up junior from school today, four people's lunch plans, three having problems with their internet service provider, and two drooling to Pooky or Mushmush.
I'll be having a nice open-eyed nap in a boring meeting when someone's cellphone, which they have thoughtfully set on "vibrate", goes off, sending me halfway through the ceiling. When I set my own on vibrate, it scares the living daylights out of me every time it goes off. It used to be impolite to have your phone on in a meeting; now you can answer and the meeting will kind of hover in mid air till you finish your call.
While second-hand smoke is no longer the worry it was, as smokers have been exiled to teetering porches and fire escapes, sorry Tina, we are all frying each other's brains with our constant cellphone chatter.

The Girls Discuss Rolling Stones' 500 Best

2008-11-20T19:51:00.004+02:00

From: Ora
http://www.rollingstone.com/news/coverstory/500songs ...
Do we agree with their list?

From: Tina
I've had some problems browsing the list but from what I can see the main players are Rolling Stones (of course) and Bob Dylan. I would throw out many of the oldies.

From: Ora
Agreed! It bothered me that most of it was from the 60's and 70's. They should not call it "Greatest Songs of All Times" they should call it "Greatest Songs of Aging Baby Boomers Who Think They're So Cool Because They Work at Rolling Stone" who made a gesture by adding a few later songs that they either happened to overhear while sneaking into their kid's room to search for drugs while said kid was in the bathroom, and the television was on MTV, or recognized from the theme of some movie or commercial.

From: Z
In other words, you and Tina are way cooler than the people on Rolling Stone magazine.

From: Ora
Tina definitely is. And like naked people running like sheep to be photographed in the town square, their uncoolness bursts out of every pore as evidenced by this list. It's like they're saying "only the music of the 60's and 70's was any good". Lots of people around today weren't even around then, so this list is totally unrepresentative. There is hardly any new wave on it.

From: Sally
Did you notice the list is from 2004?And another thing to consider – I think that when you try to rank “the best” list, you always try to give some time perspective. Meaning – you don’t include NEW stuff since it did not have enough time to mature…so, in 20-30 years or so, songs from our current decade will be included. Don’t you think?

From: Ora
Good insight! I feel better about the list, having had this brought to my attention. In about 40 years Stan by Eminem will be elevator music. I'll step onto the elevator at the neighborhood retirement home for active seniors and hear the faint piping of "Dear Slim, you still ain't called or wrote, I hope you have the chance. I ain't mad, I just think it's f**ked up you don't answer fans..." with glockenspiel accompaniment.

Elegant Home Decor

2008-11-19T19:01:00.007+02:00

One of the aspects of my job is to find the simplest way to describe or illustrate complicated processes. The shorter and simpler, the better. In my work, the old saying "One picture is worth a thousand words" is regularly proven.

Look what someone sent me; isn't that a clever way to get the point across? Simple and to the point. Wish I had thought of that.

Does anyone know where I can order one?
Don't all comment at once, I'm having a hard time handling all the traffic here.

Not about the guitar, not funny

2008-11-18T21:18:00.002+02:00

I'm learning guitar now. Someone had posted a phone number and the fact that he is a guitar teacher, so I called him up. When he knocked on the door it was such a blast from the past. He looks just like the guy that my friend was nuts over when we were 18, but better because he looks like he eats on occasion. The friend I mentioned here before, who doesn't know how to drive and doesn't pick up quickly on social clues (see current events/car impounded). I'll call her Maria.

Maria was not like my other friends. Her family had immigrated and didn't speak English, even after many years in America. Maria took care of the bills and handled the errands, and went to her brother's parent-teacher conferences, while going to school and working. Maria told me she lost her virginity at 12, to a guy who sounded almost too perfect. I still had mine.

Maria's dad hit on me, twice. The first time I was babysitting her little brother and suddenly her dad came home drunk. The second time she had to go out for a few minutes and left me playing Monopoly with another brother, and again the dad suddenly came home. Both times he argued with the brother (I didn't understand their language) and both times the brother left the room disgustedly. Then her dad tried to hit on me. He offered to buy me a watch if I would cooperate. Both times I fought him off, got out of the house, and got to a gas station to call my mom to come pick me up (no mobile phones back then). I told my mom that Maria and I had a fight.

I had to stop hanging out with Maria. I was mad at her for leaving me at her house where he could do that, and I couldn't tell her that he was doing that. And mostly because I was afraid of her dad. I wriggled out of the relationship and never saw her again.

Years later, I was doing dishes in the kitchen one night and suddenly realized that her dad had been molesting her since she was 12. That must have been why she would find reasons to leave me alone in her house. She wanted help and didn't know how to get it; maybe she thought if he did it to me I'd report him. Instead of helping her I cut her off and left her wondering why.

2008-11-17T19:55:00.001+02:00

Look what I found:

Not sure how I would answer this one.

The Do Not Enter is most like my relationship with my husband (kidding!)

(Credit to pb0.blogger.com)

The Girls Discuss Living Off the Grid

2008-11-16T18:48:00.001+02:00

Living Off The Grid - How to avoid the spies all around us

From: Ora
That is one freaky article! I don't know if I'd want to live in a tent in my parents garden. My mom has some kinky neighbors.

From: Z
Or do without electricity, sewage disposal, etc.

From: Ora
And why are they giving out infomation on how to defeat the cameras! Normal people won't do that, but criminals and terrorists will!

I think my brother will like this article. He thinks that George Bush personally listens to everyone's phone calls and reads their email.

From: Z
That’s probably how he gets material for his speeches! LOL.

I think off-grid living will become increasingly popular. I have learnt from action films that if I am on the run, go off-grid. No phone calls, no email, no credit-card use. No airports. Wigs. And now living on a boat and driving only at night with an infra-red lit number plate. Can’t wait.

From: Ora
Yes, a lot can be learned from action films. I'm worried about CSI giving criminals too many tips on what not to do. Our police force is lightyears behind.

From: Z
If you kill anyone, remove their fingers and teeth so that their identity cannot be ascertained and no motive can be found.

From: Ora
Yuk!
Also wear a hairnet. I hate those.

From: Z
And don’t dribble!

From: Ora
And hope that our local police are assigned to the case.

2008-11-13T20:34:00.000+02:00

At work today I had to sign the following:
"I will not use the software for, and will not allow the software to be used for, any purposes prohibited by United States law, including,without limitation, for the development, design, manufacture or production of nuclear, chemical, or biological weapons of mass destruction."

?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

If I knew how to use the software to manufacture nuclear WMD

Do you really think I won't now, just because I signed the statement?
Why are you letting me anywhere near it?
Would I be working here? for this salary?

The Girls Discuss Madonna's Fitness

2008-11-12T09:02:00.001+02:00

Jen:
RE: A look at Madonna's 50 yr old legs
Here’s the picture brought directly to your email box…

Ora:
If she was in our airplane and it crashed in the Andes, she could feel safe cause I wouldn't be eating her.

Z:
I would. Imagine selling THAT story to the papers! “I ate Madonna!”

Jen:
Look at her arms too!

Ora:
Her arms are the main reason that I won't be eating her if we crash in the Andes. That, and I don't have Zoe's head for business.

Z:
The arms look tastier than the legs. I wouldn’t want to chew through the tights, but if I were in the Andes, this would be the difference between a hot dog and a sausage. If we could tie this in with a Fear Factor episode, we would surely be onto a winner. I COULD CERTAINLY HACK THE ANDES WITH JOE ROGAN!!

Sex and the Single Girl

2008-11-09T20:20:00.000+02:00

Would you want a shop teacher who had never touched a power drill, or a driving teacher who had never driven a car? Well I would have prefered that my sex education teacher had a bit of experience. That should be a basic prerequisite. But I am convinced beyond any reasonable doubt that she was a registered virgin. The first clue was that she was a nun. The second, she was afraid to even say the word, and she sent the boys out of the classroom and locked the door so that they would not find out about it. I didn't know any more about it than she did, so it was really the blind leading the blind.
Sex education in my class consisted of a movie starring Disney characters. I'm sure that Bambi and Thumper never imagined that they'd have starring roles in a sex flick. With the help of geometrical shapes floating around and interacting with each other, Bambi and Thumper had the task of explaining to us The Secret of Life. Not that an uninformed 10 year old could have guessed that that was what the movie was about. In my case it remained a secret for several years until my sister gave me a copy of The Summer of '42. They should have just passed out that book. Or, if they wanted to stay with the cartoon character theme, Fritz the Cat would have done the trick. Literally.

Car Impounded After Dog Drives Away From Car Wash

2008-11-09T18:01:00.000+02:00

Car Impounded After Dog Drives Away From Car Wash - this is how the headline appeared. Just "Dog Drives Away From Car Wash" is news enough, but there's even more going on here. I'm left with so many questions: Why was the dog driving? Why did the dog drive away? Was he unhappy with the service? Did he not pay before driving away?
Why was the car impounded? If a dog was driving, maybe his owner should have been impounded. Maybe the owner was drinking and felt safer letting the dog do the driving.
I had a friend who definitely drove worse than any dog could possibly drive. I don't even know why I got in the car with her but I was 18 and had to achieve Fun, and there was no bus service in my area and she had a car. Anyway, when there was an intersection with just a stop sign, she'd slowly inch into the middle of the intersection and then stop. My suggestions to stop at the sign first went unheeded, as she found it easier to see if any cars were coming from the middle of the intersection. She did not drive above 40 mph, freeway or not. We attracted a lot of cursing in which our virtue, and the virtue of both of our mothers came into question quite often. When anyone else was driving, she tried to make herself useful by telling them how to drive. I set her up once with my cousin. When I asked her how it went, she said that he's quite temperamental and she wasn't sure if she'd accept another date with him when he calls. When I asked him, he said she wouldn't stop telling him how to drive so he got pissed off and put her in the trunk.

Victoria's Lawsuit

2008-11-08T18:51:00.000+02:00

Does Victoria Have a Dirty Little Secret? - Duh! That is like their undeclared motto, isn't it? I watched the clip (no url so I used a different link here) and discovered that a woman got a rash from her bra and decided to sue the manufacturer. I was kind of curious how this got to be news, cause if I was in America and that happened to me, I would just take it back to the store and get a refund. The stores there are really great that way. If you don't like what you buy, you take it back, and they smile and chitchat with you and give you money back and wish you a nice day. This is certainly one of the reasons that people all over the world, including the middle east, are banging on the doors to get into America, land of the free, home of the brave, friend of the consumer.
But I've been out of the loop too long to realize that this is not the proper way to behave. Ettiquette and social awareness require that I sue the manufacturer. I'm a bit embarassed to admit that I was not thinking considerately about providing employment for the folks who would be involved in handling the lawsuit.
Over here in the wild wild middle east, I would be lucky if they would let me trade the offending bra for another model. Money back? What planet are you living on, lady? And I only have 14 days in which to get even that. If I doze off and 14 days go by, I'm stuck with the nasty thing. And no more smiling and being nice. Suddenly I am the sales lady's enemy. She hates me. I have ruined her day. It's all about her.

What's Up With - Warrior Princess Attire

2008-11-03T21:13:00.000+02:00

So, when I go out for a power walk, I wear white or yellow at night so that I'm not flattened by a truck driver checking his text messages. For a power swim, assuming I had got the breathing-while-face-is-in-water thing down, the attire would be streamlined one piece to avoid mooning unsuspecting bathers. But what's up with the warrior princess attire? You never see a warrior princess dressed sensibly to do battle with Forces of Evil, Romans, Vikings, etc. From my observations, warrior princesses and queens tend to prefer the take-me-now-on-this-horse look. They are always dressed slutty, and have a lot of torn leather going on. Do they wake up in the morning and go "The Romans are taking over our village, we must repel the attack, where's my push-up bra?" Are they thinking "After we have neutralized the forces of evil and saved Pangea, I hope to get lucky with whoever is left standing, better make an effort here"? I just saw the show about Boudica, Warrior Queen of Britain circa 60 A.D., on the History Channel (!) and even on that channel she was with the torn leather, the miniskirt, plunging neckline, push-up, etc., It is cold and rainy there most of the year, though Boudica was getting a lot of exercise. But how can you be driving chariots and throwing spears in that getup? I sit at a computer all day and think twice about wearing the slightest open neckline as I wouldn't want people getting a glimpse of what's in there in case I have to bang my head on the table during a meeting or something. And a minor heel seriously limits my trips to the coffee machine. But not the warrior princesses, their mind is Fashion First. I do admire their resolve not to neglect their appearances even under extenuating circumstances.

Boyfriend of Woman Stuck to Toilet Wins Lotery

2008-11-03T10:18:00.000+02:00

Boyfriend of Kansas Woman Stuck to Toilet Wins Lottery for Second Time This Year

Love this one. Brought to me courtesy of Fox news. How many times in a lifetime do you expect to read a headline like this? What percent of the world population wins the lottery twice? Of those lucky few, how many of them has a girlfriend who is stuck to the toilet?
What I don't understand is, if he already won the lottery once, couldn't he use the money to get his girlfriend unstuck to the toilet? Evidently his self confidence is a bit low, he may be afraid that if he gets her unstuck, she'll leave him. I sure would. But what use is she, in her present stuck-to-the-toilet condition? Can she cook for him? I doubt it. Can she clean the house? Contribute by earning a living? (Maybe she has a laptop and works from the bathroom?) And about intimacy, I just don't want to go there. I'd like to see Dr. Phil take this on. (I love Dr. Phil!)

Cat Survives After Being Shot in the Head with a Crossbow

2008-11-02T20:25:00.000+02:00

Cat survives after being shot in the head with a crossbow at an Alabama trailer park.

I love this headline. This is not a headline you see every day. But is it really news?
I kind of wonder about the online news, which ran this headline. I like to keep abreast of what is happening back home but basically it's nothing. Nothing happens. Recently they reported a barn burning down and a Walgreens being robbed. I believe a cow was killed. Not at the Walgreens. Sorry for the cow, truly, but I live in the frickin middle east, it takes more than that to get me excited.
I get so tired of reading about wars, bombs, graft, corruption, road accidents, rape and murder. But it's not everyday that a cat is shot in the head with a crossbow at an Alabama trailer park and lives to tell the story. So the cat story is an improvement, though I truly feel for the cat. Though I bet it was being a pain in the butt, meowing outside the door at 5 a.m. when all that Robin Hood wanted to do was to sleep off last night's partying. So he's like "how do I shut this cat up" and tried throwing a shoe at it and missed and then he thought "oh, of course, I'll go get my crossbow".

Fix-it Men

2008-11-01T18:25:00.000+02:00

Before I start, I apologize about the gender bias to all the female fix-it men, who may be out there, but I've never actually seen one.
Anyway, something very strange is going on with fix-it men lately, and it has me worried. I'm sure I'm being set up for a fall. Several times now my fix it men have shown up on time (!), fixed the problem, not broken anything else, not overcharged me, and even charged less than I thought I'd have to pay.
The last one, Arkadi, came to put up an awning over my balcony. Over the phone, Arkadi gave me a quotation which was the best of the lot. We set a time (8:00 a.m.) and date, I told work I wouldn't be in as I had a fix-it man coming, and prepared to spend the day looking at my watch. But my fix-it man showed up on time. He proceded to take the required measurements—a slightly portly middle aged man, he huffed and puffed just a bit while climbing up and balancing himself precariously on the back of a plastic chair and the railing. I was sure he'd go plunging over the railing and fall several floors onto my neighbor's cat, and I begged him to let me get him a ladder but he said he was fine. I wasn't - I had to go into the house and not look. When he was done, I came back out and we talked a bit. Arkadi was an engineer in Russia, but couldn't get a job at the age of 50 when he immigrated, and went into the canopy-making business. Now, at 67, he is still doing this very physical work. Way to go, Arkadi! Anyway, Arkadi wouldn't take any money down. He said that when he comes back to install it in about two weeks time, if I like it, I should pay him then. At this point I was convinced that I was on candid camera or something. It was about 9:00 a.m. and I had an entire free day ahead of me.
One week early, Arkadi called and it was ready, installed, and beautiful. I wish I could bottle and sell Arkadi!

In Which Sam sends Ora a cute little picture

2008-11-01T18:07:00.000+02:00

To: Ora

From: Sam

Subject: Mr. Cogs Gets Excited

To: Sam

From: Ora

Subject: Mr. Cogs Gets Excited

He doesn't look excited, he looks confused. He should be screaming his head off and swearing never again to get pierced while drunk.