Monday, March 06, 2006

Note to self: I am not a juggler

Would you believe I’m going to talk about elevators again? Well not really, it’s more like a little incident that happened near the elevator. Actually it wasn’t really an incident… it’s what almost happened.

So I’m going into the office in the morning. I’m balancing my purse, my lunch, my keys and my ID badge all in my hands. I should’ve clipped on my badge and stuck the keys in my pocket. But no, I decided I was a talented juggler that morning. I managed to press the Up button with a spare pinky. *ding* The doors open and I walk towards the elevator. I’ve got a forward momentum going when something drops to the floor. I didn’t even feel it slip out of my hands. I didn’t even realize it was me until I stepped on it.

Apparently my keys were sliding across the floor, heading for the little crack between the floor and the elevator. You know, that little slit that leads to the elevator shaft? The one just big enough for small objects to slide into? Yeah, I know. My keys were headed there. If hadn’t stepped on my keys by accident they probably would’ve tumbled right in and bye-bye keys.

The thoughts that went through my mind were approximately in this order:

1. Holy crap I almost lost my keys down a frickin elevator shaft!
2. Would they fit through that crack? They could’ve. Maybe.
3. How far down is it to the bottom?
4. Would my swiss army knife survive the fall or would it shatter to pieces? I love that thing.
5. How would I get the keys back?
6. Do they let people down there?
7. I wonder what it looks like?
8. Are there lights?
9. Is it creepy and disgusting down there?
10. I wonder if people have been crushed by elevators from above?
11. Wasn’t there a CSI episode like that?
12. Oh this is my floor. Do I still have my keys? Oh good.

Sunday, March 05, 2006

More details than you can shake a stick at

It’s been an unusually idle weekend. I actually had time to create an entire About Me page! I figured the Blogger profile was grossly inadequate and couldn’t possibly capture everything you need to know in order to feel more in tune with my blog. Yes, you heard me. I want you to be one with my blog. Feel its energy. Understand its flow. Click on an ad. The force is strong with this one.

Please go check it out (it’s at the top of my sidebar) and let me know if it’s enough (or too much). I’d love to know your thoughts about it because, come on, I’m laying myself bare here. I gotta get feedback on it! And if you’re a lurker who doesn’t like commenting in blogs, feel free to email me with your comments. I do so love email. Makes me feel popular and stuff.

Anyone have neighbors like these?

My neighbors are generally pretty cool and I don’t mind having them most of the time. But there’s this family next door… the dad is a biker. Not the scary, leather-clad, overgrown beard kind. But he’s still a big, burly Harley rider. Sometimes he starts that thing up and scares the shit outta me! It is LOUD. Luckily he’s a family man with a day job so he’s never woken me up with the noise. But still. I startle easily.

The bike isn’t what annoys me. I’m positive he rides around on his hog without any ear protection. He’s a manly man, and apparently they don’t need no steenking earplugs. As a result the man is half deaf. I can tell because anytime he speaks IT’S ALWAYS AT TOP VOLUME! HE’S ALWAYS SHOUTING! “COME ON KIDS WE’RE GOING NOW!” “HONEY DID THE MAILMAN GET HERE YET?!” Always. Shouting. He’s not angry (he’s actually very easygoing). He’s just loud like his bike. I can hear every single word he says even when I’m on the opposite side of my house.

And it’s not just him. His biker friends are the exact same way. Every so often they’ll gather at his house to watch The Game and I swear that television couldn’t be cranked up any higher. They laugh and it sounds like they’re all holding megaphones to amplify their voices. Then later in the evening they’re all a bunch of drunk monkeys and just being obnoxious. They just can’t shut up. You know at the zoo (or maybe on Survivor: Guatemala you might have seen them) those howler monkeys that are just constantly hooting and calling at the top of their lungs all day long? It’s that annoying.

Thank god this only happens like once or twice a month. Otherwise I just might have to.... do something. *look of pure evil*

Saturday, March 04, 2006

Embracing My Inner Dork

Ever have those moments where you’re all alone and in a really good mood, maybe a little bit hyper, and you feel all silly and stuff… maybe you’re singing really off-key to the radio or dancing like Goofy… and you think to yourself, “I’m a really fun person! I think people would love to hang out with me.” I love those moments. My inner dork just comes out and takes over completely.

After calming down a bit I sometimes wonder, if someone had been with me during those moments, would they have found it fun to hang out with me? Or would they just think I was making a total ass of myself? Sometimes even my sweety stares at me oddly when I’m being a little too dorky. Inner Dork thinks quite highly of itself, but doesn’t seem to realize that it often scares people. To onlookers, is my happy dork personality really just a manic weirdo?

I don’t know about you, but I entertain myself immensely. I don’t think it really matters what Inner Dork appears to be to other people. I adore Inner Dork. It makes me happy. I think I’ll keep it around.

The Obligatory "Here's My Side Business" Post

What’s a blog good for if you can’t use it toot your little horn every now and then? To help make ends meet around here I try to do a little work on the side when opportunities present themselves. (Here’s where I introduce my side business.) I’ve found there are a lot of people who need simple websites but don’t know anything about it and can’t afford to pay much. There’s where I come in.

I may be impatient when it comes to certain things (commuting, grocery store checkout… nearly any form of waiting in general) but I seem to have boundless amounts of it when it comes to internet beginners who need a website. I help them get their domains, offer free advice, and suggest inexpensive hosting options.

Some of the clients I’ve worked have been ripped off by assholes claiming to do what I do. They take the money and run. (Those self-serving, money-grubbing fuckheads need to curl up and die.) So part of my “service” is restoring their confidence and lending credibility back to freelancers, to demonstrate that there are still some honest folks out there trying to eke out a living.

I’m not a very creative designer. Actually I’m not much of a designer at all. I have very limited graphical abilities. I prefer simple, clean websites. But if anyone comes to me with a Photoshop layout of how they want their website to look, I can cut up the pieces and put it together into a website, no problem. I’m an HTML wiz. (Not a genius, just a wizard.)

So if you know anyone who needs someone like me, feel free to send them over to PennyDragon.com to read more details about what I do and how I work. I can’t lie worth a damn, so that makes me a very honest person by default. I like to help out where I can, and maybe earn a little mortgage money in the process. It’s a feel-good thing.

Okay that’s it. Boring post I know, but who else will promote me if I don’t? I deserve it. At least that’s what I tell myself every morning in the mirror. “Geeky, you’re good enough, you’re smart enough, and gosh darnit people like you!”

The Funniest Movie Quote I've Heard in a Long Time

Last night we rented Prime. Most likely you’re staring blankly thinking, “Which one was that?” It’s a bad title because it makes me think of prime numbers… and I don’t even like math. It actually does make some sense in the context of the movie, but it still makes me think of 3, 5, 7… uhh… 13… you know, those prime number things. Whatever. It isn’t a math movie at all. It’s the one where Uma Thurman plays this late 30s woman who is dating a much younger man, who turns out to be her therapist’s son.

The movie quote! I go so caught up in the damn movie title I almost forgot the most important part! I was laughing for hours over this one. Okay, at least five minutes. She tells her therapist,

“His penis is… so beautiful. I just… I just want to knit a little hat for it."

Friday, March 03, 2006

Two thoughts, completely unrelated

Ever pull out your favorite black shirt and you’re all excited because it’s worn and comfortable and it’s your favorite, only to stand in daylight later on and find out that, compared to something that really is black in color, it’s actually kind of a dark greenish tint? My poor shirt.

I’m curious about the whole “TTLB Ecosystem” thing in some people’s sidebars that tell you they’re some kind of evolved, crawly little creature in the blogging world. I wonder how they determine that. Is it just a popularity contest? Well, whatever it is, I don’t need it to tell me what I already know. I’m okay with being primordial slime. People walk by and slip on my slimy blog and I get to laugh at them. It’s great!

Night and Day Lounging

In our delightful little lounging room (also known as the log cabin room, also known as the leaky add-on) we’ve got two side-by-side “hers and hers” recliners for our TV/movie viewing pleasure. Yes the ones with the tags still on ‘em. Our butts are in those seats nearly every night. But what about the daytime? Are those comfy roosts empty and wasted while we’re away? Of course not. While we’re working, these two recliners become “his and hers” doggy beds.

How gracious of them to lend their seats to us when we get home. What do you mean the picture’s a little blurry?? Oh wait… it is. Well I forgot to put the flash on so the shutter stayed open longer than I’m used to and you know I fidget a lot. You didn’t know that? Well you do now. So there. I’m not a photographer.

What’s that? Why didn’t I just take another photo? Well, SmartyPants, whenever these little guys get the notion that you’re paying attention to them they immediately stop whatever they’re doing and rush over to your feet, wiggling for closer attention. Pet me! Pet me!

Thursday, March 02, 2006

The Effect of Babies in the Office

From time to time coworkers and ex-coworkers like to bring their brats offspring to the office for a visit. I find it amusing that the majority of the women in the office all crowd around the baby making googly noises and chatting up a storm with the mother. Most everyone in the office loves visiting babies.

Then the mom comes over to my little group of web developers (who have remained huddled at our desks hoping the baby will go away). We look over and see the mother with child, then have a somewhat stilted conversation that sounds something like this:

“Hi guys! I brought [insert baby name] along for a visit!”
“Oh! Hi [insert mom’s name]! ...And hello there… little guy… So… how old is he now?”
“He’s [insert age in months] and will be [one extra month] old next week!”
“Wow… that’s great.”
“Been busy much?”
“Oh… yeah. Busy as usual. You know how it is.”
“Yeah I remember, it never lets up does it?”
“Nope.”
*Baby makes gurgling noises*
“Well I better get going, it was great seeing you guys!”
“Yeah! Good seeing you… bye...”

She then moves on to the next group and another conversation ensues, only much more animated because the audience is actually interested in the baby.

I wonder if people think I’m weird? I have no motherly instincts. I look at babies like cute little… aliens. I have nothing to say to them. I don’t want to hold them. I feel awkward around them. I’m relieved when they leave. But at least I fit right in with the other awkward-around-babies web developer coworkers. Saftety in numbers.

My First

So far most of my blog material is more like “Confessions From a Slightly-Off-Her-Rocker Nerd”. Well, here’s a post to stay true to my blog title.

I’ve had exactly one boyfriend in my life, and it wasn’t until college. In high school I never dated. Did I go on one date? ... ... hmm… ... I can’t remember. Well if it was that forgettable then it probably doesn’t count anyway. I was never very social and was never attracted to any boys. Gayness was just never a factor. The only gay person I’d had any exposure to was “Hollywood” from the movie Mannequin. (Love that film!)

Halfway through college two guys in my dorm started asking me out. So I went on a couple dates with both. It’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Date the opposite sex? One was nice but boring. The other was… intriguing. He had this long blonde hair, hated sports, was respectful and polite at all times, sensitive, had this soft air of confidence without being arrogant, and best of all he loved my quirky humor. We became a serious item for about two and a half years.

I decided to break up with him, not because I figured out I was gay yet, but for other reasons. He had way too many hobbies that took his attention away from me. This may sound a little selfish, but then again I am a little selfish. He had forgotten me on numerous occasions. His mind was just on too many other things and I was rarely #1. Okay I had plenty of faults that were driving him crazy too, but let’s not go into that. I decided to break it off with him.

Afterwards I had a lot of time to myself, a lot of introspection, intense feelings, and confusion. Was I really attracted to him in the first place? Or was I just attracted to the thought that someone found me that interesting? I was, after all, quite susceptible to flattery and adoration. (What can I say, I’m vain.) Plus it helped that he was… kinda girly. He did dress up in drag one Halloween and did a girly walk much better than I ever could! Hmm.

Funny how a relationship blooms simply because you didn’t know any better. I had gone through the motions because that’s what “normal” people did. Several months after the breakup I started going through a period of emotional misery. I felt lost and lonely despite having friends. I typed out pages and pages of angst and introspection. And then it slowly began to gel. It wasn’t a sudden insight that clicked. It was more of a gradual realization that I was more comfortable with girls, that I’ve always had feelings for girls. My past actions as a kid finally made sense. Those were crushes, not a longing to be friends. I was a… the word was still foreign to me. Lesbian. It sounded weird on my lips. Lesbian, me? But as weird as it sounded to me, it felt… right.

I sometimes wonder if he thinks I became a lesbian because of him. When I told him (we stayed friends after the breakup) I tried to make it clear that I wasn’t running screaming in the opposite direction from guys. I just finally realized the truth about myself. But you know guys, everything’s about them. He may still think he made me gay. The thought is actually making me giggle because, let’s face it, he was not a manly man.

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Can I move my desk please?

My desk at the office is situated right in front of two laser printers. These get used a lot because the people around here couldn’t possibly be bothered to read anything on their computer screens. (Sidenote: I once made a comment about clearcutting forests and the person informed me that paper wasn’t actually made from trees, it was from sawdust. Shut up Mr. Know-It-All. Sawdust used to be trees and you’re still wasting resources.)

These things run all day long and it’s really annoying because it tends to drown out what people are saying. I have really great hearing when it comes to noticing sounds, but if there’s any kind of other noise going on I have lots of trouble deciphering what people are saying. Nearly anything can disrupt my ability to listen. I’m a fairly bright person, but why am I such a slow listener?

The real question, however, is why this one guy loves to send 200-page documents to the printer and then just stand there next to the printer, next to my desk, waiting for it? Dude, my personal space isn’t enormous, but I hate people standing behind me for extended periods of time. How am I supposed to blog with you standing there??

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