Tuesday, February 28, 2006

This might be my year

Most of you are probably feeling sorry for this little geek and her leaky house. But worry not, things are looking up! First of all, through all the rain (which I love anyway) the sun came shining through. As soon as I noticed it get brighter while still hearing the pitter patter of raindrops, I immediately ran outside to look for a rainbow. It was amazing… an entire arc that was just too big to fit in one shot. I fit as much of it as I could…

I only took one shot because it was still raining and electronics don’t quite mix well with water.

Of course rainbows don’t solve anything. I think it was just foreshadowing of the good news to come. At work I got my performance evaluation for the year. (Quick summary of my job situation: I started this awesome new job in January last year. Each year performance evals determine your adjusted monetary compensation.) So I went into my manager’s office to discuss their evaluation of me. The first words out of his mouth were YOU’RE FIRED! Heeeheeheee can you imagine? Oh come on, I said there was good news! Don’t you listen?

What he really said was, “I’m actually pretty excited to give you your evaluation!” That bodes well, don’t you think? He went on list off my strengths and what they liked about me. (Good material for a separate, horn-tooting post later.) The best part was at the end, when he finally gave me my grade. The scale is 1 to 5. 1 means you’re pathetic and will probably be fired. 2 means you’re a disappointment. 3 means you’re living up to their expectations. 4 means you’re exceeding their expectations and they are quite thrilled with your work. 5 means you are blowing everyone completely out of the water and are likely on the fast track to upper management. The vast majority of the population gets 3s. They have to be very stingy with their grading because this also determines how much of a raise you get. This also determines your share of the bonus pool.

My grade? 4. FOUR! I got a FOUR everybody! They love me!! WOOOOOOTWOOOOOT! Are you grinning? I am! Afterwards I told him today was a perfect day to assign me a truckload of crapwork because I’m going to be grinning all day long. Heck, all week long! The bonus amount they’re going to give me is going to cover the cost of a new roof… not just over the add-on portion, but the entire roof!

Wait, what’s that? There’s more good news? Why yes, yes there is. In May I will have finally paid off my car. With my upcoming raise and the soon-to-be-disappearing car payments, things won’t be so tight around here.

I just might get cable!

Monday, February 27, 2006

Raindrops keep fallin' on my head

I love the rain. It makes me happy. I love how everything looks shiny and clean, the air smells fresh and the sounds of pattering water soothes me. What I don’t love is my roof after a day of solid, non-stop rain.

Our house is, for the most part, in excellent shape (considering it was built in the 1940s). However it has an add-on that, while it’s quite cozy to lounge around in, leaks worse than my own verbal incontinence when it rains for more than a few hours. Right now I can hear the constant pitter-patter of the raindrops outside. It’s quite a lovely sound. At the same time I can also hear the steady tap tap tap of water dripping into the various bowls we have around this room. Yes, my computer is in the leaky add-on. There’s no place else for it. I currently count no less than seven leaks dripping at differing rates. Tomorrow morning there will be eight. Luckily (yes I do manage to have a tiny bit of luck now and then) none of them are directly over the computer desk. Hey, ya gotta be thankful for the little things.

Some of you may be stating the obvious, “Well if you know the roof leaks, why don’t you fix the damn thing??” Have you seen this part of the roof? It’s got that black Henry’s goop all over it. It’s between all the shingles. It’s hopeless. We just need to scrape that shit off and put on a new roof. I’m hoping maybe a sizeable tax return this year can cover it. Here’s to hoping!

If that doesn’t pan out (Oh! I just ooze the puns so naturally I don’t even notice it sometimes. Pots, pans and bowls everywhere to catch the leaks, ha! If only I could bottle this stuff and sell it.) Err… what was I saying? Oh, if that doesn’t pan out, well, we’ve managed to get by with the bowls everywhere so far. It’s a little ghetto but, meh, we’re still happy.

The first rule of management

You’ve heard the phrase “Shit rolls uphill”? I hadn’t heard this until, like, last year or something. But I think I’ve always known it. I crave the laurels that come with being Important, but I don’t crave the reprisals that often come with it. I think Hopper from A Bug’s Life said it best, “First rule of management… everything is your fault.”

In high school I was on the school newspaper staff. I had a very good shot at becoming editor in chief. Had I wanted it I probably would have gotten it (especially since the girl who took that position turn out to be an over-extended slacker). I took the Assistant Editor role instead. It was perfect. I got lots of credit for being a leader, without actually having to take much responsibility for it. Something goes wrong, she made that decision, I was just helping to support her. Something goes right, I played a big role in making it happen. I win.

In the real world there’s a bit of a dilemma. The higher your status, the more bucks come rolling in. I want the money, but I also don’t want the responsibility. I see many of my managers getting called at home about problems at work. Their vacations stink because they have to check in so often, or they’re worrying instead of playing because a big project is going on. For all their troubles they’re able to afford living on the beach and rolling in expensive cars. But is it worth it? Is all that stress really worth it? Can you enjoy any of the things you can afford?

I’m leaning towards “not really”. True they don’t have the stresses of making ends meet on the home front, but what’s that compared to the daily stresses of the job? Of taking work home with you all the time? This is why I’m quite content being a little worker bee, a cog in the machine. I do my little part and I go home to enjoy the relaxing comforts of being there and not at work. Maybe I’ll try for some kind of middle management (more vacations in the mountains would be nice, or an occasional cruise). But no further than that. Sometimes it’s good to be unambitious.

Saturday, February 25, 2006

A Picture of Exhaustion

Remember a few posts ago when I was talking about how my yammering friend and her husband (and don’t forget the toddler!) drained us of all our energy? I wasn’t kidding. As soon as they left we cleaned up the house a little, then I pretty much collapsed onto the recliner. The dogs were drained of energy too and collapsed onto me. My sweetheart was kind enough to sneak her camera into the room and snap a picture to immortalize the moment. And now I’m kind enough to share it with all of you.

Don’t I look good? Wait a minute… is that laughter I hear? You’re laughing! Well I never! Okay that’s not true, I hear it all the time. I am kinda funny lookin’. Me and the doggies are all huddled together for warmth. Little Brat has her sweater on, but still loves to cuddle. And I’m drooling a bit, aren’t I? Perhaps this isn’t the most flattering picture of me.

It ain't easy being green

I’ve always liked the idea of solar power. “Harness the energy of the sun” and all that. It produces no pollution and no waste. And after the initial cost, the energy it produces afterwards is pretty much free! Okay not really. In a way you’re buying all your energy up front instead of month by month from the power company. But still, you’ll be helping the environment in your own little way because the power company won’t be producing pollutants on your behalf.

Am I sounding like a hippy? Well good, because I kinda like hippies. Well, except for all that hair. I think they had the right idea and we’ve all kinda gone in the opposite direction. Some people express that their tiny little efforts won’t make a difference, or it’s too much trouble. It really isn’t all that much trouble to produce tiny little efforts. And the collective tiny efforts of an entire neighborhood can make a bigger difference. I mean, how much trouble is it to throw your junk mail into a recycle bin instead of the trash? (Depending on your area of course, most places still don’t make it easy to recycle. I love California.)

I’m a total idealist, so forgive my occasional soapbox ranting.

So anyway we get some literature and brochures on solar systems because we want to get one installed. The smallest one they sell is $8,800… without installation. Ouch. Okay so we won’t get it done today. But someday we will.

Friday, February 24, 2006

Back on the elevator...

Hey I spend a lot of time in the elevator. Well, collectively speaking. Okay I have no excuse, I like talking about the elevator because where else do you stand around doing nothing inside a small box with a bunch of strangers?

So anyway, I’m in there going up to my floor, having just returned from bringing SweetyPie her salad. I’m holding my own salad and there are a couple others in the elevator with me. They hit the button for 11 and I hit 13. The song that was playing in my car just before I got to this point was “Everybody Wants You” (awesome guitars in that). So I’m rockin’ out in my head (I’d be playing air guitar like a madwoman if the elevator had been empty) oblivious to the idle chatter going on between the other two.

*BING* The doors open and they leave. I follow them out. Then I realize this wasn’t my floor. Dammit! I hate it when I do that! The doors close in my face before I can get back in. *sigh* How many times have you done this?

Thoughts while in bed at 5:50 am

Mmmmmm it’s warm.... warm and cozy..... this feels good. What time is it? Oh good, still early. I can snuggle the covers a little longer. Mmmmmm warm...... What day is it? Friday? Oh goody I like Friday. Casual Fridays. What am I wearing today? Jeans probably. Jeans and a… um… jeans and a… shirt… of somekind. Yeah that’ll work. With shoes. What time is it now? Oh good. Big Pest do you have to press up against me? Move over and give a girl some room to stretch. *streeeeetch* That felt good. I wonder if........ .... .....zzzzzzz..... Whoah! Don’t fall asleep. You have to get up soon. Just… not right now. What am I having for lunch? Oh yeah, I’m taking sweety that salad she likes. I’ll probably have one too.... yeah...... zzzzzz… What was that noise? Why would a six pound dog like Little Brat snore like that? Do I snore? What time is it? I have to pee.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Elevator Antics

Much commentary has been made on group behavior inside an elevator. You know, like how everyone stands perfectly spaced apart (except for the freak who doesn’t understand personal space), how people will get in the elevator and push a button, even if it’s already lit, and how most conversations tend to stop after the doors close.

Well, what do people do when they have the entire elevator to themselves? Security personnel must have loads of fun watching elevator cams sometimes. I don’t know about anyone else, but here’s what I do, depending on the occasion:

• Curse repeatedly when I hit the button for the wrong floor.
• Attempt to peer at my reflection in the somewhat shiny doors to see if my hair is still behaving.
• Slouch completely against the wall, rest my head against it, and close my eyes. Any onlooker would be convinced I managed to fall asleep standing in an elevator.
• Do squats, leg stretches and shoulder rolls in an effort to loosen up from sitting on my ass all day.
• Hum, whistle or “sing” whatever’s in my head (I put “sing” in quotes because I wouldn’t call it singing. Really. Have you heard me?)
• I may even do a little jig if the mood hits me right.

I’d be interested in knowing what other people do in elevators when they think no one’s looking.

A dude in need of no buttcream

My sweety works in a customer service department. One of her coworkers received the following email from a customer:

Hello [Company Name],

I enjoy your products and all, but please do not send me any more junk mail to my address. It’s embarrassing enough to get advertisements for cellulite cream in the mail, let alone have your roommates parade around with it in a fit of laughter. Hopefully that image makes you at least chuckle, I know I got a kick out of the situation, but seriously, no more ass-firming cream or other ridiculous product advertisements from [Company Name] addressed to

[Customer’s Address]

If I want any butt cream I’ll buy it for my hemorrhoids in about 50 years, but not anytime soon. Many thanks and have a good one,

peace
[Customer Name], a dude in need of no buttcream

ps. btw, have you ever looked up the definition of hemorrhoids? “an itching or painful mass of dilated veins in swollen anal tissue, also called piles” I cringe everytime I see one of those preparation H commercials now after reading that, but then I laugh after the guy comes back with a big smile on his face, because, let’s just be honest here, he just had his finger up his butt and that’s funny.

Don’t you wish all customers and clients were this funny?

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Geeky Dragon Girl isn't so smart, but I am!

Hi! I’m Little Brat. No really, that’s my name, have you heard differently? You have? Dammit! That big-mouthed owner of mine… Did you know her name isn’t really “Geeky Dragon Girl”? Heh, I’ll bet you didn’t. She’s sneaky like that. But not sneakier than me. When she left for work today she left a browser open still logged into Blogger, so now it’s my turn to post something on here for a change!

This is so exciting! Big Pest is going to be so jealous when I tell him about this. He’s kinda dumb though, so he might not even know what a blog is. He’ll probably think it’s some kind of meat, like bologna. (He spells it baloney though, heehee.)

My owner, she’s so self-centered, always talking about herself. Well it’s time I got to talk about myself! Here are 10 facts about me:

1. When Big Pest is chewing on a bone, I like run outside barking like there’s someone there. He’ll always follow me barking. I’ll come back inside first and steal his bone. He’s never figured out that trick.
2. I know how to use a stepping stool to get onto the bed. Big Pest never figured that out either.
3. Just because I like to get laid a lot two weeks out of the year doesn’t make me a slut. I’m just a bitch, that’s all.
4. I don’t like to knaw hard chewies. I’m delicate you know. I prefer to steal chewies from Big Pest after he’s softened one up a bit.
5. I like to get up an hour after the lights go out for a drink of water.
6. An hour after that I like to get up again to go eat.
7. I can’t be bothered to eat while everyone is awake. I’d rather hang out in their laps.
8. I can beat up dogs 10 times my size, but my owners never let me. They’re bitches too.
9. I like to bark at and chase after cats, except for one neighborhood Siamese. I like to play hide and seek with him.
10. Big Pest and I have keg parties in the house when everyone’s at work.

Wow this typing with paws sure is hard.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

How do I not have cable?

In the last post, C-8 asked me in a comment, “How do you not have cable? Seriously, are you Amish or something?” It’s a very good question, one that I’ve been meaning to address but have been putting off for just this occasion.

The answer is yes. I am part of a very progressive Amish village in California. They allow the use of television, Tivos and electric shavers. Yes, we are allowed to shave. Men too. But unfortunately they draw the line at cable and internet. They don’t want the evil forces of uncensored media corrupting our society. I’ve managed to cleave together my own wireless network using a vast array of spoons and coat hangers. I tell the elders it is my weather-predicting experiment. They’re so gullible. However I have been stymied at every attempt to steal cable. They’ve got newfangled filters they put on all the lines. But that’s okay, at least I’ve got satellite radio reception hidden under my bonnet.

Actually I’m just kidding. I don’t have satellite radio.

Ahem, okay, the real story. I’ve had cable all my life, up until last year when my sweetheart and I took on this huge mortgage. Since then we’ve decided that $50 a month just isn’t worth it (it doesn’t even include HBO or Showtime!) That’s how we started looking to reality TV shows as entertainment. (I didn’t say it was quality programming, but you gotta admit, a lot of it is entertaining.) We miss HGTV (Home & Garden Television), Bravo and Discovery Channel. But such is life. We’re not destitute or anything. We weren’t willing to sacrifice our cell phones, high speed internet or our Tivo service. It’s all about decisions. We made ours. And now we’re just… the mutants with no cable.

Lessons on Listening

About two posts ago, I told you about an old friend and her husband who came to visit, both of whom are chronic yammerers. I wanted to go into more detail about a conversation I had with the husband. One would think that, when discussing something of interest to me such as TV shows, I would be interested. However if the person I’m speaking to keeps on talking as if I had never spoken, I lose interest fast. Here is a fine example of what not to do in a conversation, starring Yammering Husband:

Him: Have you been watching Battlestar Galactica?
Me: I caught the premier and one other show back at the old house last year, but we don’t have cable anymore since we moved.
Him: It is such an awesome show, you really should watch it.
Me: Well I might, if I had cable.
Him: I have the entire season on DVD, if you’re interested.
Me: Well I might be, but my sweetheart doesn’t like sci-fi, so we try to find shows we like to watch together. I don’t have all that much free time to myself.
Him: How about Stargate SG-1? That’s a really good show too, you should try to watch it.
Me: That’s on cable too, isn’t it? And it’s a sci-fi show. I wouldn’t get much opportunity to watch it by myself.
Him: Oh, well my wife likes to watch Project Runway. It’s an okay show.
Me: I’d probably watch that too… if I had cable!
Him: You know what another awesome show is?  Dead Zone.
Me: I’ve heard of it, kind of like Ghost Whisperer meets Law and Order or something. What channel is that on?
Him: It’s on USA, and it’s about this psychic who can… [enter 3 paragraphs of show description and an entire run-through of part of an episode]
Me: I don’t get that station… I. Don’t. Have. Cable.

Do you see why I got so tired of talking to him? It’s like he sort of heard me, but he just wasn’t listening. If he had, I would not have had to tell him five times that I only get broadcast stations. Dude! Listen to the words I am saying! Listen and internalize it! If you (the reader) are like this, you probably don’t even know it. If you’re a teacher, then please, please do your friends and yourself a favor, pay attention! Conversing with your friends is not a lecture!

This has been a public service announcement.

Monday, February 20, 2006

If you like to yammer, I'll be over there

From my previous post you’ve gathered that a good friend came by to visit, with their toddler in tow. Now, these are really nice people, but DAMN do they drain the energy right outta you! They finally left yesterday and afterwards, my sweetheart and I both sighed with relief, “Thank god, I thought they’d never leave!"

Do you know the difference between talking and yammering? If you’re unclear, allow me to elaborate. Talking entails you describing something or making a point, then listening to someone else as they give you feedback. It’s known as conversation and can be very entertaining. Yammering, on the other hand, is prattling on and on about topics your audience cares nothing about, barely listening to feedback, and then pressing on with more uninteresting topics. This not entertaining.

My friend and her husband are both teachers, so maybe this is why they both love to yammer. They’re used to talking at students for hours with minimal feedback. I don’t even think they realize they’re doing it. For two days we had to put up with the following:

From the mom: “Blah blah blah so my students said blah blah and then I had them read this book blah blah and it was so funny! I teach AP English so blah blah blah blah. Did you hear about that teacher we had in high school? Blah blah blah! Isn’t that freaky?” Multiply this by several hours.

From the dad: “What year is your Tivo? Really? Blah blah blah our Tivo’s hard drive died and blah blah blah. Did you know you can blah blah and then if it dies again all you have to do is blah blah blah blah and never have to buy a new Tivo again. Isn’t that cool? So do you watch blah blah? Oh you don’t have cable. How about blah blah? Oh that’s on cable too? What about blah blah? You should really watch blah blah blah it’s so awesome.” Multiply this by a few hours.

From the kid: Now, it’s a given that the toddler will annoy me. I will give the little tyke credit for not going bonkers over the chihuahuas. They are like walking teddy bears and kids go bananas over them. She didn’t even blink when they were barking like rabid monsters at her. The look on that little girl’s face was something like, “Huh, dogs. They’re kinda loud.” To help keep this child with the severe short attention span occupied, the parents brought a wagon-load of toys, and brought them all into the house. Ugh. Okay, that would be fine if the kid actually cared about its toys. But no, a wagon-load of toys to choose from and she decides she would rather reorganize my DVD shelf. I figure those things are tough, so I let them since the mom is supervising. Well, after they leave I clear off the table and I find one of my Sex and the City DVDs sitting there… with its cover half torn off. WTF?? Now, maybe it’s just me, but if I was a parent and my little brat did that, I would either fess up and apologize, or put the thing back onto the shelf and hope no one notices. But no, they leave it in the middle of the table for all to see, so I know it was them.

What is wrong with these people?? These are my friends? It’s no fucking wonder I prefer to spend my days alone with my honey. At least I have today to that. I guess presidents are good for something.

Sunday, February 19, 2006

I hope I never have to watch this again

My old friend from high school (I mean long-time friend, not old friend. We’re the same age.) came by for a visit with her 17-month old in tow. (Okay, a little tangent here. WTF is up with all the parents saying how many months their kid is after they’re over a year old? Do they relish the thought of making non-parents do dreaded mental math to figure out how old their frickin kid is? Just say “a year and a half”! Does it take that much longer to say? It would be a lot less confusing to me. Thank you!)

So anyway, this toddler needs to be entertained like every waking moment. The only time they are still is when they’re sleeping. It’s tiring just watching them, geez! One of the few forms of entertainment that actually keep her settled for more than 15 minutes is a show they’ve recorded for her, called “Boohbah“. Ever see this show? If you can help it, don’t. It’s fucking freaky. I am not kidding, it’s like some weird-ass LSD trip. It’s got these things that dance and make farting noises as they fly around. Then they have these really bad actors doing who knows what in pointless scenes with lots of colors. It’s absolutely terrible, and yet the kid is completely mesmerized by it. I don’t know whether to be relieved that it works or worried that she’s being hypnotized with scary subliminal messages.

The episode I had the misfortune of watching had this weird scene where six people on a beach are crowded around this “big drink”. It’s a 5-foot glass of red liquid with six straws sticking out of it. Is it Kool Aid? Hawaiian Punch? I don’t know, they just call it a “big drink”. These people spend the next 10 minutes dramatically taking sips out of it until it is empty. It magically refills itself and they empty it again. It’s completely pointless and bizarre. Afterwards they all collapse onto the sand and proclaim they are sleepy and tired. No wonder they were so ambiguous about what they were drinking. They just guzzled 50 gallons of bloody marys! They’re not tired, they’re drunk off their asses! And a toddler is captivated by all this. I’m afraid for this child.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

What do I do...

Hmm… a dilemma… do I sit here and write up a nice lengthy blog entry?  Or do I go rack up a few brownie points and make breakfast? My time spent here has been making me look like a lazy ass recently. Any girlfriend would be resentful. And I did just get in trouble last night for getting angry about my sweetheart reading over my shoulder. I hate that. Really hate it. I’m all stupid and sensitive when my writing is in progress. Doesn’t matter what it is, if it isn’t the way I want it yet, I want no one reading it. Nobody. Not even the most important person in the world to me. So I got in trouble for getting pissy. Looks like I’m making breakfast.

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