Thursday, March 31, 2005

Red-Headded Cliche

Apparently there is this butterfly migration going on here in the So Cal. This is very distracting for me. I find myself watching the butterflies like a house cat peering throug a window. C has had trouble getting me to actually "get in" the car now, because I'm pointing and saying "ooooh lookie", as if we haven't already seen 4,365 of them fly by in the last 3 minutes, or 3 days for that matter.

Last night he said "You have officially become a Red-Headded cliche....' I saw a!'". How prophetic that statement was.

I had a Dr. appointment at 10 a.m. today. I droped C off at work so we could carpool home tonight. I nagged him about just stopping the car in front of the building so I could literally throw him out and get on my way - because I was afraid I'd be late. He did what he should have done and told me to settle down, I'd have plenty of time.

I should have listened to him and quit acting like a girl. I got there a half hour early. So I had time to kill and I noticed that there were a lot of the butterflies migrating by there, so why not get a few pictures? Theoretically - sure. Harmless enough. In practice? Not so much.

I'm snapping away, all the while knowing that NONE of them are going to show up on the pictures, because it's just not that easy. After about the 6th shot, this Large Doughnut Consuming Man came out and shouted from his perch "HEY YOU! I'm the general manager of this building, WHY ARE YOU TAKING PICTURES OF THE BUILDING?"

I shouted back "I'm not. I'm shooting butterflies and your building just happens to be there." He says "WHAT?!" I shout again "THE BUTTERFLIES!" And he just went back inside to - I don't know - call the cops probably.

I decided to go see my Doctor early at that point.

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

Is it Just Me? Probably.

Dining out. More often than not, I notice that a hostess must seat patrons - only to have them want and/or demand to sit elsewhere. I can only guess at the reasons. "I don't like tables with chairs, I want a booth." "This one is too close to the bar and I'm afraid of ice." "This one is by a window. That will never do. I heard Chupacabra is on the loose and it attacks through windows."

Maybe it's a secret society thing. If you ask to be moved a certain number of times, use the code word and order the special, 33rd Degree Wizards will "take your order", instead of the regular staff. Wait, is it degrees in Masonry and Wizards in the Klan? I get my cultish secret society elements confused all the time.

I just don't understand it. How hard is it to let the hostess know before she seats you that you want something specific?

I asked to be moved once. We hadn't even gotten our rears in the proposed seats when we noticed we were surrounded on all sides by tables with about 3 small children per seated adult . I tend to cuss a lot and thought it best that I ask to be relocated before the heavy scowling of protective parents ruined my day.

C has a restaurant "why is that" question as well. He wonders why the servers taunt you with the condiment part of your order. For example, they bring you dressing in a little dish to go with your order, but the actual food doesn't show up for another 10 minutes. It makes him feel like he fell for a practical joke where where the food will never actually make it to the table. I'm sure there are all kinds of logical reasons why this occurs, but I choose to believe servers are just being evil.

I'm fairly certain I'd do the exact same thing.

Sunday, March 27, 2005

Thanks A Lot, Easter Target.

This is what I get for not observing Easter; strangers talking to me.

I headed out to Target today. I have 3 rolls of film to develop and our home also needed some of those boring-to-buy but very necessary things. I will use any excuse to go to Target. Just as C.

I drive Target and ...IT IS CLOSED. Ooooh yeah. Easter and junk.

So I go to the grocery store near our home as an alternative. I get all my items and go to the register. The lady working the register is visibly ill with the flu or something, so she literally looks beaten. The woman in front of me with her double wide baby shuttle is explaining to everyone that the two occupants are "Only 11 months a you see what a bottle of wine will get you?"

This scene brings some other store employee - who I think is a manager of some kind - to our area. Manager lady has a giant pair of fuzzy green rabbit ears on. She's talking to the mom, the kids, the other workers.....nobody is moving and my stuff has already been rung up. I'm not in a hurry or annoyed with the blockage. I AM annoyed that the mother wants to tell everyone about her children conceived of wine, but other than that I can wait.

Finallly I get clearance and pay for my stuff. Big Green Bunny Ear lady looks directly at me, at my t-shirt, and says "What a CUTE shirt!" I mumbled "thank you" in a tiny voice and left the store.

See, it's not that some stranger made a comment on my shirt. I'm not THAT skittish. The thing that gets me is that this particular t-shirt is nowhere near cute. There's a long story associated with the phrase "speed monkeys" and the logo of monkeys with coffee cups which is on it. Also, I've cut the collar out of it because I hate t-shirt collars. I didn't do a clean job of the cutting, either. I never do.

I guess I was just afraid I'd have to explain to her that this t-shirt contains the name of my imaginary band - Speed Monkeys - which was born of a rapid fire e-mail exchange between C and two of our friends. One of those friends came up with the t-shirts later that day.

This is why I prefer Target. Target is usually filled with shoppers as anti-social as I am. The only kind of stranger communication I experience there is the poke of their shopping cart into the back of my shins because they aren't looking where they are going or a new checkstand is opened and the race to get there first begins.

Saturday, March 26, 2005

Technology Is Here to Help Me, Right?

Today C gave me the phrase "perfectly wrong". I don't remember what he was referring to when he said it, but damn if it hasn't become my new label for many things.

PerfectlyWrong: an illustrative example:

We buy a house. We discover the toilet lids have a feature. I don't know the technical term for it, but when you go to put the lid down, or even the "ring", it falls silently. The hinges have some kind of graduated falling mechanism in them.

It's the same kind of glee any kid growing up in the 80s felt when they got one of those new tape decks that had the slowly opening door triggered by the "eject" button. It was MAGIC!

Problem is, anytime I'm anywhere but my own home loo, I forget this feature isn't standardized. You see, the ladies room at the office is cleaned at least once a day during working hours. The rings are left up, I assume for drying.

My Pavlovized self goes in there, tips a ring forward and creates a most unwelcome KaBang! I've heard the startled gasps of other misfortunate souls in there at the same time I am when this happens.

And there you are: perfectly wrong.

Friday, March 25, 2005

You've Got it All Wrong...

I'm not trying to offend you. I'm just trying to amuse myself.

I went to explore today after being let out of work a little early. I took the point and shoot camera with me.

I saw a building, with a dome and it had a cross on top! It looked totally interesting, so I did the u-turn and drove into the parking lot. I took some pictures and tested the doors. They were locked. Unknown to me, I soon drew the attention of the keeper of the dome.

It turned out to be a Greek Othodox Church, and keeper guy was all kinds of annoyed - but trying to do his "welcome to our house of worship" bit. He did actually let me inside. Told me what I could touch and what I couldn't, and how to make sure the door was closed behind me when I left. He told me "their" Easter isn't until May, to enjoy these pamphlets, and to CLOSE THE DOOR BEHIND ME WHEN I LEFT.

It's a really great building. Very modern arty, and gaudy all at the same time. Unfortunately, it was so big that I couldn't get any really good shots of the best parts. Meh. It was worth the exploration anyway. IT TOTALLY HAD A DOME WITH A CROSS ON TOP! How could I resist?

Later, I noticed this giant white cross near my home area that I had never ever noticed before. This time when I pulled into the parking lot, I vowed not to go around pulling on any locked doors. Lucky for me, this particular cross was at the back of the parking lot away from the flock. I took some pictures of that too. Again, it was so large that any really good shots have to be taken with a better camera.

Now I'm home and my pizza has arrived. Combine that with some beer and t.v., and I've got quite a religion of my own.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Post tastic!
This is part of an abandoned theater which I have had a fascination with since I realized it is abandoned. There are much better pictures to be had, but I need to wait until I can get myself a new digital camera. Right now I'm using a 35 mm point and shoot jobbie with real film that I have to develop. As seen in prior posts, I'm not that patient. Posted by Hello

Easter Break Begins With Flat Basketball

I just moved into this neighborhood December, 2004. I still haven't learned about my neighbors. I have, however, proven that I have become an old lady with a doom and cranky pants outlook. Second only to my fear of becoming a carbon copy of my mother.

Last night when I turned onto my street, I saw groups of people on both the right and left side of the street. About 7 on each side. My first thought was " Where’s the ambulance/firetruck/police?" I was sure something tragic had happened and these people were out looking on.

It was simply a group of college kids, probably home for Easter break, playing basketball in the street. I know if I had been 15 years younger, my first thought would have been "KEGGER! How do I get in?".

When did I become that adult that automatically assumes the worst case scenario? I was so frustrated with myself that I wanted to run over their basketball.

It also further served to remind me that I desperately need new glasses. Maybe if I didn’t have to guess what the blobs of light and dark are while I’m driving, walking, generally existing...I could be a little less dramatic about my surroundings.

And maybe then I could see well enough to run over the basketball.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

No Fun for YOU.

Trying to be mindful of the fact that people get dooced ( for musing about one's office environment, I'm only going to say that technology intended to prevent goofing off via the internet at work seems to be rather effective. At least at my office, anyway.


Monday, March 21, 2005

Cowboy Hat Lands in California

I've never been someone who can make with the charm or social shmooveness. Even when I'm downright comfortable with someone, I still make comments and faces that - I've been told - would be taken incredibly badly had these people not known me well. You can only imagine then how I react when total strangers approach me.

Maybe I've watched too much Law And Order, Cold Case Files, American Justice and City Confidential. Combine that with the ability of my mother to have scared the crap out of me when I was young (no, not abuse, the kind of scare that keeps kids safe...."don't talk to strangers" kind), and you've got one incredibly incapable lady when faced with total strangers.

Unless hiding behind a legal pad is considered a proper interpesonal reaction when meeting someone.

I'm at the office, having just finished lunch. I'm at my desk reading e-mails and responding accordingly when I hear my name boom from behind me. There's a conference room back there and a few offices. People are going to and from there all day long. I've been able to block most of it.

I turn around to see this giant cowboy coming towards me. Well, ok. I guess he's not really a cowboy but he has to be at least 6' and he had on a huge black cowboy hat. I'm trying to process how this big person knows my name, why he's back here in the part of the office people don't just wander to unless they know about it, and if I should "RUN AWAYRUNAWAY" like I generally want to do when confronted by large cowboy hat wearing strangers.

He starts taunting me. "Don't you know who I am?" I said "nnNNnooooo, but now I'm scared." And that's when I reached for a legal pad as protection. It wasn't even legal sized. 81/2 x 11, and white. I should have gotten one of those "legal sized" ones that are yellow if I was going to get maximum protection.

He finally says "Don't you recognize my voice from the telephone?" and even though I really didn't, I took a stab at the only group of people that I talk to on the phone that know my name, where I work and in what capacity. I blurted out "Are you Name Omitted?" He came sprinting towards me to give me a HUGE hug.

I had guessed right. He was one of the investigators we contract with to locate items concerning our files. His office is in another state at least 2,000 miles away - so it's not surprising that I didn't expect him to be in my office. ever.

I told him "We get a lot of crazy around here. I never know if someone is looking for guidance to the elevators, bathrooms or kitchen....or if they are here to take out their anger on any fool willing to turn around when their name is called. (We have plaques on our stations that have our names engraved on them for easy reference.) It doesn't take much for me to respond to my name, so I try to evaluate whether I need to duck/run/call security pretty quickly."

Don't make me get my legal pad.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

E, Wanker, Super E and Master of "What E-Mail"

The Christmas card I sent you and Ninja B came back "addressees unknown" or somesuch. I actually thought you guys just abandoned Earth and went *poof*. C and I missed you, we were sad. I even tried to make AIM work and see if you were out there somewhere. says coming soon. When is soon, E? When? I've checked in for quite a while only to find that cute little devil head in your logo looking back at me. THERE USED TO BE CONTENT, DAMMIT. I even managed to utilize the cache feature on Google to see page past....although that doesn't work anymore.

There are so many things we have to share with you. Lines from one of our favorite shows like "Hot air balloon? It's floating WICKER powered by FIRE! Of course I'm afraid of it."

There have been many social missteps by me in this last year or so that I lost you.

I hope to see you and Ninja B at the party of the cute one on Saturday.

Anyone who knows us can see that me being able to talk to you again because of a one-year-old child's birthday party is pretty funny.


Wednesday, March 16, 2005

I Told You Already I'm Not Right!

So the office "alarm" goes off. This is pretty common, so we all wait for the voice to tell us they are investigating and will get back to us. We wait. We wait. We waitwat.

People start to mill about looking for anyone who has the info. "Is it a false alarm? Did they announce what it is yet?" um. NO. Soon, people start to say things like "Well, normally they tell us it's false by now, we should probably go."

So about five of us, upon further coersion from the office emergency floor person, enter the stairwell and begin the trek down 14 flights of stairs. Thing is, we realize no one else has come in and no one from the floors above or below us are in the stairwells yet.

We make it down to the lobby where there are probably about 30 other people who have fallen for the same alarm waiting to take an elevator back up.

I re-enter my own office to receive the mocking of fellow employees who were "smart enough and calm enough to wait it out." ok. That's fine. Laugh all you want...but now I've had unexpected exercise! For free!
I've been trying to justify the cost of joining a gym and now I don't have to think about that for 2 more days.

I don't mind being known as the girl who runs for the door when there's danger. I think it's funny myself. If there's an earthquake, you can bet you will see those cartoon swoosh marks left behind as I bolt for the doorway...any doorway to escape. To where? I don't know. I know all the rules for maximum safety in an earthquake, fire, what have you. Unfortunately, my body believes that running away is ALWAYS the answer.

My own office tried to assign me to the Emergency Team and I had to tell them I could not do it. I'm sure they thought I was just trying to get out of another office thing, but honest, I wasn't. C even laughed when he heard they suggested me for the team. He knows I'm a runner. There's no way I'd be able to competently guide others in a true emergency, and I even told them that today - my "Law and Order" surprise evidence for the end of the show - if my day were that interesting. "See that? I ran. I told you guys I can't be trusted when the alarms go off."

Sunday, March 13, 2005

Famous Chocolate Wafers

Bless you, Nabisco.

C fixed my crazy britches! No, really. I pulled a beloved pair of overalls out of the dryer today and things were not good.

The clasp had bloomed during the cycle and grabbed on to a shirt and the dryer anti-static sheet to create a twisted, scary ball of material. It made me laugh.

I showed to C, and he fixed it with computer tools!

I'm the luckiest girl in the world.

Yesterday we went to MOCA in LA with S and a bunch of other friends. It was in celebration of S's birthday. We had a really good time. Art is difficult to do with people. Everyone does museums differently.

I always feel bad if I don't read all of the info on the exhibit. I usually just don't have the attention span to do so unless I'm truly intrigued by the artwork.

There were several on display that I truly believe are a joke. Or, someone's nephew's sister knows someone's boss.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

I'm Broken But He Sticks Around Anyway

This morning I had to ask C if I frightened him last night. I had this vague memory of seeing him in the doorway to the bedroom, kindof falling towards one of the walls. I also vaguely remember saying "I suck" to myself, rolling over and then blackness.

Turns out that in my attempt to get to bed before him, fall asleep and render myself unconscious to his snoring, I've also developed a nasty bout of night terrors. From what he tells me, he started to walk down the hall towards the bedroom. I "awoke" and screamed so loud he pretty much tried not to collapse to the floor while his heart was stopping.

All the while I've simply rolled over and gone right back to snoozing. Heartless bitch!

Thing is, I have done this to him in the past, and I have NO MEMORY of almost all the incidents. Just the vague imagery described above in this last experience. I figured it would just pass.

I can't use ear plugs when I sleep with C, because they cause an allergic reaction in my ears and throat that feel a lot like bad brochitis.

Apparently he can't sleep with me because - well, trying to approach the bed without setting off a night terror is causing him to consider purchasing those heart re-starter paddle thingies. Not to mention the fact that when I do scream, he then gets a nice shot of adrenaline to accompany him to bed. And then if he does go down, I'm not awake and coherent enough to know what's happening so he'd have to heart re-start paddle himself!

I did a bit of poking around on the internet. If what I found is in any way accurate, I've got a case of the night terrors. Or sometimes called sleep terrors. They are different from night mares because they occur in the first third of the night (or sleep cycle) and they aren't "dreams" with plots and things. They are simply flash like hallucinations combined with a sleep walking type state that cause the reaction. And the person doing the terroring can't remember a thing about it the next day. Wouldn't even know it happened if there wasn't a witness...or a heart attack victim on the floor.

Fan stinking tastic. I thought I was difficult to sleep with before....

Monday, March 07, 2005

Margaritas in Tall Glasses

Friday night I went out with C and some friends for a birthday celebration. Not my birthday, mind you. My favorite friend in the world S and I started with margaritas. We were in the bar waiting for our table, so why the heck not?

I'll tell you why SHOULD not. These margaritas came in big glassess. And we hadn't eaten yet. And we were in one of those "caution to the wind" moods you may have heard of.

I knew I had to get up early the next day. I knew I had a very full Saturday planned. I knew I could handle it. And I did. Although not gracefully.

After my morning appointment, I called C and his mom so I could meet them at our potential new wedding reception site. First of all, I was hungry - but not the kind of hungry that can be fixed. It's that after drinking nothing sounds good and yet I really need food feeling. And my skin felt like it was sliding off my skeleton.

I get there and taste their food. More like tipping the plate's contents into my open mouth. I was a bit shakey due to the booze/blood sugar issues and probably looked like I belonged to a family of gypsies. The food was really good though. We will likely have the reception there.

Then it was off to Ikea. The land of made up languages. We picked up some bookshelves we've desperately needed for some time now.

Then it was off to Downtown Disney for yet another birthday celebration dinner. I had lots and lots of diet coke. And water. And the waiter kept telling us how much money the restaurant could make in one night. All of our inside voices were begging him to stop talking. So that's what a high class restaurant has that a Carl's Jr. doesn't? Economics classes?

Friday, March 04, 2005

Who Chainsaws at 7 am on a Friday?

The picture below is my misguided attempt at posting a comic that has made me giggle for days. Instead of that, I posted a "If I were a SouthPark character" that C created for me from that site - which I'm too short of attention span to go to myself.

And let's just say that even though I didn't get the right picture posted, I did post something. And that says a lot. If I bothered to read all the instructions that came with the picture posting thingamawhatsit here...maybe I could have done what I wanted. But who reads those? I'm such a simpleton. All I want is for it to be intutive and clickable which ideally = desired result. At least in my world.

I find myself unable to concentrate on instructions for very long. I used to be one of those "guys never read instructions...arrrr....women would work if.....arrr" people, but now I fumble through and hope something good happens.

I actually worry about myself in this regard. I was telling C the other day that I find myself unwilling to plow through pages of text - even when I'm dutifully researching something I'm excited about or really need information on. I'm so used to finding what I need on the internet AND finding it in a format that I like rather quickly. So, if I don't succeed in finding it right away I wander away to my next project - often irritated. Now who's fault is that?

I am the Ikea catalogue figure in the assembly instructions.

This morning I was in the shower. I heard a rumble noise, which to me sounded like thunder. It rained a little last night. We don't get thunder too often, and the last few times we did it came with tornado warnings.

Anyway, I heard the noise and my heart jumped a little bit. I soon realized it was only the sound of C working in the room next to the bathroom. I quickly giggled at my skittishness and went about my business.

I'm washing my face, which means eyes closed tight so no soap gets in there. I can hear a noise, which to me sounds like the neighbors are using a chainsaw. I think "who uses a chainsaw at this hour? Well they were using a table saw one night at 11 anything is possible."

I turn to get my face out of the water and open my eyes.

My face starts screaming really loud! C was up against the outside of the shower door and it made me scary movie scream. I went from thinking "Neighbors using chainsaw" to seeing "Blurry form of being up against my shower - RUN AWAY RUN AWAY!" all too fast.

I was laugh crying so hard I was trembling. Poor C. He felt SOOOOOO BAD. I tried to reassure him when I had collected myself enough to only laugh hysterically at myself.

By the way. I'm too lazy and short of attention to spell check these postings.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

Read the Picture!

Our society is moving towards a universal picture language. Instead of reading words, more and more things are depicted in frighteningly effective advertising symbols.

The other night I'm driving in the third day of consecutive heavy rainfall in Southern California. All I need is to find a Taco Bell.

Nobody told me that Taco Bell was going to be swallowed up by Kentucky Frie...excuse me, KFC. Ok, fine. All well and good.

Except that the words "Taco" and "Bell" are no longer anywhere to be found on these mystery KFC/Taco mutations. Instead, they just throw a purple bell up in the corner of one side of the building. The side that faces the street. My brain, which is apparently a sponge for advertising symbols, says "aha! There's one!"

The mega mini mall that said building is in happens to be surrounded by a bunker wall - with entry all the way in a neighboring State. So I drive in to the designated hole in the wall and try to find the Taco Bell. All I can find is a KFC. See, at this point I still don't KNOW that KFC hosts Taco Bell.

So I drive around. And around. Inside the bunker wall until I'm positive I've just imagined the Purple Bell which I KNOW is Taco Bell's purple bell. I drive back out, and take another pass through the intersection. I see the bell AGAIN. So I drive back inside the megamall and search and search and search. Still just KFC. Still. Serously. Now it's a project and I'm going to find a Taco Bell, dammit.

After a good 20 minutes of searching, I give up and go into the KFC. Yes, there I see that the KFC menu shares space with a Taco Bell menu! Who knew?

Is it too much to ask that the actual WORDS of the establishment be on the outside of the building? It's bad enough that the stupid bell and the KFC aren't even on the same side of the building - on any of it's four walls.

And this whole experience made me think of how when going to a restroom in public places, it almost never says "women" or "men" anymore. It's usually a picture. And the circular plaque is for Women. The triangular one is for men. That makes sense, only because the blind or sight impaired can feel the symbols and therefore "read" the doors.

But they aren't driving around in the rain looking for a Taco Bell in a KFC late on a rainy night.