Wednesday, December 27, 2006

The Holidays. Kicking My Arse in the Free Time

Lack of posting due to whatever excuse I feel like using. And for now that would be the holidays. Which aren't officially over until after New Years.

Being one of the last hires this year, I am doomed to work every stinking working minute that isn't an official day off. This makes me sad. It's not like I didn't know that was going to happen, but sad nonetheless.

There is one thing that was pure unexpected joy for me this season though. It is Gay themed Christmas Cards. I've never gotten any before, and now that I have, I adore them. The jokes, the puns, the picture fun with once never dared make fun of subject matter. Pure glee in an envelope.

I got one the same day I got a card with some heavy Catholic content. I giggled as I put the two cards in the same bag facing each other for the ride home. When I got home there was no holy war, there was no name calling and nobody burst into flames.

It's too bad that people in general can't be more like their holiday cards. There's a spot for your message that people can take or leave, you wish everyone well and you don't mind when a different belief shows up for the ride home.

Saturday, December 16, 2006

I've Been Thrown a Lit Stick of Dynamite

So at the new job, I learn the new boss has a sad event happen in his life. His mother in law has passed away after a battle with some kind of illness.

For normal people, this is a deal with able event. For me, it is a time to make sure I keep my trap shut the hell up so I don't offend the man. I smartly sent Mr. Zoom out for a card for me. And all I did to that card was sign my name.

"Ok, what kind of card should I get for you for him?"

"Something that won't offend a highly religious man who happens to be my boss of less than a month, who's mother in law just passed away? Is there a section at Hallmark for that?

It turns out my new boss is not only very religious, but so are several other co-workers. So much so that it's openly spoken about in passing among themselves. Which is fine with me. They don't try to convert me, ask me what I believe, or otherwise know I'm there. I'm all for any beliefs people want to have, as long as they respect my right to do the same.

But there will come a time when all of that changes. As Olympic Champion of snacking on my feet, both at once even, I can only hope I stay below the radar as long as possible.

I've already mispronounced the name of a key co-worker in such a way that people who witnessed it actually rolled on the floor laughing. I'd tell you what it was, but it's unique enough that it would instantly identify me to anyone happening along this here spot on the net - who happened to be connected with my job. I can tell you that I called him/her the name of a car manufacturer. An American one, at that. It made Mr. Zoom make that forceful "HAH" then silent laugh thing he does when he's really stricken with the funny.

About a week after I started the new job, a temp was assigned to the desk two desks away from me. She didn't have a lot to do there. She spent a lot of time on the internet. The way her computer was situated, I got a decent view of her web tour. I was struck with familiarity when I saw her staring at a screen...that I knew I knew....but couldn't place. I later realized it was the create post screen of blogger!

A fellow! I didn't get a good enough view to see what her blog was though. I was so amused with the fact that a fellow blogger was temping at my office that I tried to secrety take her picture while she wasn't looking. I was hoping to get the blogger on screen when I did it, but as we already know, I suck at secret agent stuff.

When she had her back to me, I took my camera and lined up for a shot. This was tricky, since other people could see me and I had to time it perfectly. Turns out I forgot to turn off the flash, so when the camera went off, she immediately turned around. I put on my best "Hm, I'm looking down at my desk...looking for something that isn't there, it's important and I'm not paying attention to you at all...WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME?" act. I even talked to myself out loud "NO, no......that pencil isn't right here where I thought I put it......hmmmm".

I suck at acting too.

I tried again to take her picture since the one I had just snapped might have been fuzy. I turned off the flash, but this time the little *tink* noise the shutter makes caught her attention and she immediately turned around again. Which lead to me fake looking for my pencil again.


I haven't seen her since.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Not Very Holiday Spiritish - Granted.

Dear Resume Writing People,

Quit putting your hobbies or personal interests on your resume. You might as well send us to your myspace page where we can see what you really do enjoy, and learn even more reasons why we shouldn't hire you.

"I enjoy reading, water sports and camping in the summer." I CARE NOT. Do you also enjoy researching how to put together a decent resume? If the job you are looking at actually requires such information, you can put it in your cover letter. Provided you even know what that is.

And chances are, should your personal interests factor into the job you are seeking, they will need to go on the top of the page, not waving pathetically as an afterthought at the bottom.

I don't know. We might hire Betty because she likes to put together jigsaw puzzles while kittens romp at her feet instead of Jane, since she likes to run through sprinklers balancing a Mai Tai and a volleyball. While Jane might be a lot more fun in the office, Betty isn't likely to call in the next day with a hangover or a broken leg.

I don't work in any position that screens resumes. I don't have an ounce of influence in this corporation as to whether a resume is chosen for the next step. The person I work for does see resumes though, and the ones with personal information on them make me want to seek out the author during his/her interview and 3 Stooges poke them in the eyeballs for including such things. AND GETTING AN INTERVIEW DESPITE OBVIOUS OVERQUALIFICATION IN NITWITDOM.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

When the Broken is Nobody's Fault But Yours

There was about a 45 minute block of time today wherein I was convinced that the Superior Court had lost its telephone service. I would have bet anyone around me this was true. I spent that 45 minutes attempting to make successful calls to that court, only to get a recording every time that said "I'm sorry, your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please check the number and try again."

I tried every department telephone number I could find on the internet. There are at least 50 of them. NONE of them worked.

I reasoned "Hm. I'm new. Chances are I'm not dialing the phone correctly. I'll try calling a number I know is working and see if I get through." I tried my home, and I got the answering machine. OK, then I can't be doing anything wrong, right?

So in flustration, I called the associate attorney that assigned this to me. I said "Yeah. You aren't going to believe this when I tell you - and I'd like you to try the same numbers I did - but I can't get one single number to the Superior Court to work correctly. They are broken. BROKEN I TELL YOU. I get an "unable to connect" message every time. And I tried local numbers I know, and got through on those so I have to be dialing correctly."

He good naturedly conference called me in on his attempt to get through to our court department - AND GOT THROUGH ON THE VERY FIRST TRY. When the clerk picked up, I honestly thought it was a joke. After the call was completed, I asked him to come up to my phone so I could try again. Because I kept getting the same result.

While he watched, I started to dial the number. And then the laughter. THE LAUGHTER began. "The problem is you aren't daling 1 - xxx - xxx-xxxx. Because you do know we are in the yyy area code??....which means xxx numbers need a 1 before you dial...."

Turns out that I was dialing as if I was in the area code FOR MY OLD JOB (xxx), not the new area code (yyy) I'm dialing from now. Not the area code I've typed onto at least 300 some documents in the last month.

I laughed. He laughed. I'll bet you a gillion dollars I'll do it again. Wish I had that 45 minutes back - but whatcha gonna do.

Besides, I've got a much more disturbing worry to worry about. The air is so dry lately that the inside of my nose now feels as if I've coke whore sniffed an entire pan of baklava up into there. Like I'm storing for the winter or something. I can't breathe without making whistle noises. And every once in a while I get the sensation that I've got a dangler. But nothing is ever there. At least not when I look. And trust me, blowing my nose only makes all of this much worse.

If I can't even dial a telephone correctly, how am I supposed to trust myself to keep my nose dangle free?

Sunday, December 03, 2006

My Heart Swells with Cable Provider Love

There is little I adore more than being on the couch in my jammies with a blanket, watching all the t.v. I can absorb. I realize this is not a healthy, admirable or inspiring habit. I do not care. It makes me oh so happy, and life is too short not to find what makes you happy and do it.

Wittgenstein can totally bite me and then wear it.

I spend a LOT of time in the On Demand. That is the channel that our cable company provides where you can buy movies to watch. Some are good, some are absolute trash. I love them all. I like to pick some indie film and then go to IMDB after I watch it to see what other people thought. One recent pleasant surprise was "Brothers of the Head". Wonderfully dark, twisted mocumentary that won't leave you easily.

Today I was browsing categories when Christmas came early to the Zoom household. Cleverly disguised as "Special Interests", which to me usually means documentaries...

Behold my next false story to strangers about how I met my husband: Dating On Demand.

I can still hardly believe this exists.

So of course I had to find out what the man of my dreams was like. After all, I've spent all this time believing he snores me out of bed every night and laughs when I trucker burp, without following up with divorce papers.

The anticipation nearly killed me.


Turns out I don't dream like other people?


But to prove I wasn't just thinking about myself, I decided to see what kind of replacement wife Mr. Zoom could have if .. say.. trucker burping becomes unamusing to him. I picked from the girl next door category.


I previewed the reason she's a good catch. "You should date her because you'd be loved and treasured. Now if that's not a good reason, we don't know what is!"


Mr. Zoom definitely deserves to be loved and treasured.


Although not by a pirate.

You may have noticed under "Dating on Demand", there is a submenu called "Something Weird". GLEE washed over me AGAIN!


I haven't had time to see all the weird goodness in here, but I was immediately drawn to SCHOOL SCARE FILMS!!


LSD Insanity. YEEEEES! Although it's not very cool - since the film itself asks "LSD, Insight or Insanity", and the title in On Demand gives you the answer straight away. Because I was leaning towards insight at first...


You get pure, uncut, retro educational filmage without the homework!


This poor woman mistook a flame from her gas stove for a carnation. Flower. Flame. Easy mistake.


And it's all in the Free Zone! I haven't been this happy since I found the submenu from the IFC channel that plays indie films for free that are in theaters now!

Friday, December 01, 2006

The Tagging, by Poly. The Answers, by Zoom.

6 Weird Things About Me.

1. I can not seem to stand still long enough to fill the gas tank in my truck. I will start, and by the time $35 or so dollars has rung up on the pump, I'm bored and feel the need to drive away. I usually try to make the amount of gas cost some uneven amount - like $33.21. I only do that because Mr. Zoom checks the accounts almost daily, and he adores even amounts. When we go out to eat, he will figure a tip so that the total bill is an even amount. And quite honestly, the uneven debit game is the only thing that keeps me at the gas pump for a few seconds more. Mr. Zoom will get into my truck, see the 3/4 gas tank and say "I thought you went to the gas station today?!"

2. I have a toothbrush bristle phobia. I am fine with my own toothbrush, but if I see one on t.v. - especially if someone runs their fingers over the bristles, it makes me squirm. If someone is holding a toothbrush and mindlessly flicks the bristles, it also drives me crazy. I have no idea where this came from.

3. I take medication every day to function "normally". Antidepressants. I once lived a life of panic attacks and never being able to step foot ouside my own home. Medication, sometimes deservedly, gets a bad rap.

4. When I'm out in public, even if I've just rolled out of bed, I have to have earrings on. I think I know where this obsession came from. When I was little, my fine, thin hair (almost impossible to grow long), along with my "tall" size had many people assuming I was a "boy". I was crushed every time I got mistaken for a boy. Granted, I was I huge tomboy and my friends were mostly other boys (2 older brothers' influence), which didn't help. Also, my girls didn't become anywhere near their "D" size until I was about 33 years old. So having a "B" or less rack under there wasn't much of a giveaway either. How I figured earrings would be the shield from mistaken gender? Dunno. But to this day I need to have earrings on if I'm out in public.

5. When I was young, I never seemed to believe I'd live beyond 20 years of age. And it wasn't always 20 that I focused on, just what at that time felt like "older" to me. I don't know why I thought I wasn't going to be alive much past my teens. It wasn't like anyone abused me, threatened me - anything like that. I had absolutely NO basis for any kind of crazy thoughts like those. But I can remember them being a prominent theme in my daily thought rotation until I turned at least 18.

6. When I was little, I thought UPS trucks were chocolate milk trucks. I was actually young in the days of milk delivery. And milk always came out of white trucks. I figured the UPS trucks never came to our house because chocolate milk wasn't allowed.

Now, I'm supposed to tag people. But I'm never very good with that. So I always take the wussy way out and say "ok, here you go. If you want to be tagged, then.... shazaam! You are."