Day three of this experiment in curbing my rage and I am feeling pretty dang good.
It could be due the fact that my office was pretty much empty today so I was able to sit in my little corner undisturbed without a single annoying email or phone call. It was like Christmas.
So I guess I really don't know if it is working or not because I didn't have to deal with any real people today. It is quite possible that a single human interaction could have turned me into a ranting banshee. Maybe I should just avoid people. I could go live in a cave.
But it would have to be a pretty nice cave...with heating...and plumbing...and tv and stuff.
Showing posts with label nothing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nothing. Show all posts
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Monday, August 18, 2008
What A Weekend
Let me tell you, because I know you are DYING to hear all about it.
On Friday night boyfriend and I decided to take my parents out. We bought them dinner and took them to see Journey to the Center of the Earth 3-D! Other than Captain EO, 3-D kinda sucks balls. It always gives me an immense headache and then you try to take off your nifty space-age plastic glasses and the triple-vision of the screen without them is even worse. I have to tell you though; they have made some technological advancements in 3-D technology. You still have to wear those sexy glasses, but the lenses aren’t blue and red, they look fairly normal (for a cheap version of a blues brother). Also, they saved the really crazy pop-out stuff for special occasions, and the movie looked pretty normal the rest of the time. I was pretty impressed, how could I not be with a Brandon Fraser movie?
Saturday was my pseudo-aunt’s 30th wedding anniversary, so the most awesome Boyfriend ever flew the four of us up to Napa for lunch. While they went off and have there romantic lunch, Boyfriend and I sat at the bar and ate…a lot. We watched all the Olympic skull racing that one would want to see (and more…considering that nobody would really want to watch skull racing) and hung out for a few hours. It was nice, our waitress was a spaz, but that was ok cause she kept filling up my diet coke every time I drank more that an inch out of the glass. She was my favorite and got a big fat tip.
We got home from our bay airplane tour (which made me appreciate not living in SF all the more, because lets just say that all we could see of SF was the tippy top of Sutro Tower and as fluffy as those clouds looked from the top, they probably just made things cold, sad and depressing gray below) and began to pack for our next prospecting mission (next weekend). We packed our backpacks and went over our scenarios of “what if we see a bear” or “what if I fall down” and the rope tied around my waist and the large machete that Boyfriend is bringing along ended those conversations quickly.
On Sunday, we woke up at the buttcrack of dawn…make that more like the taint of dawn, because there is no light to be seen at 4 am. We drove in sleepy silence to the Santa Cruz harbor to go fishing. Aboard a friends fishing boat, I quickly found cover from the cold in the cozy little cabin. I napped until it got warm…that took awhile. When the sun came out, so did I and I actually caught TWO fish. One was too small and I released him back to his home. The other one was not the biggest, but he was the prettiest, and in my world of non-fish eating…that is way better. I got sunburned on my face…again…proving once and for all to me that the sunscreen that I have used on the last three outings is ineffective. Burn me once…shame on you…burn me three times…I need to buy new sunscreen.
On Friday night boyfriend and I decided to take my parents out. We bought them dinner and took them to see Journey to the Center of the Earth 3-D! Other than Captain EO, 3-D kinda sucks balls. It always gives me an immense headache and then you try to take off your nifty space-age plastic glasses and the triple-vision of the screen without them is even worse. I have to tell you though; they have made some technological advancements in 3-D technology. You still have to wear those sexy glasses, but the lenses aren’t blue and red, they look fairly normal (for a cheap version of a blues brother). Also, they saved the really crazy pop-out stuff for special occasions, and the movie looked pretty normal the rest of the time. I was pretty impressed, how could I not be with a Brandon Fraser movie?
Saturday was my pseudo-aunt’s 30th wedding anniversary, so the most awesome Boyfriend ever flew the four of us up to Napa for lunch. While they went off and have there romantic lunch, Boyfriend and I sat at the bar and ate…a lot. We watched all the Olympic skull racing that one would want to see (and more…considering that nobody would really want to watch skull racing) and hung out for a few hours. It was nice, our waitress was a spaz, but that was ok cause she kept filling up my diet coke every time I drank more that an inch out of the glass. She was my favorite and got a big fat tip.
We got home from our bay airplane tour (which made me appreciate not living in SF all the more, because lets just say that all we could see of SF was the tippy top of Sutro Tower and as fluffy as those clouds looked from the top, they probably just made things cold, sad and depressing gray below) and began to pack for our next prospecting mission (next weekend). We packed our backpacks and went over our scenarios of “what if we see a bear” or “what if I fall down” and the rope tied around my waist and the large machete that Boyfriend is bringing along ended those conversations quickly.
On Sunday, we woke up at the buttcrack of dawn…make that more like the taint of dawn, because there is no light to be seen at 4 am. We drove in sleepy silence to the Santa Cruz harbor to go fishing. Aboard a friends fishing boat, I quickly found cover from the cold in the cozy little cabin. I napped until it got warm…that took awhile. When the sun came out, so did I and I actually caught TWO fish. One was too small and I released him back to his home. The other one was not the biggest, but he was the prettiest, and in my world of non-fish eating…that is way better. I got sunburned on my face…again…proving once and for all to me that the sunscreen that I have used on the last three outings is ineffective. Burn me once…shame on you…burn me three times…I need to buy new sunscreen.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
They See My Rollin' They Hatin'
My sister hates animals. I know...what kind of a person hates animals!?!? I love animals. I even thought I wanted to be a vet until I learned about the horrors of fecal smears and stuff. In addition to animals, I love funny things. My sister, does not love funny things. I know...what person doesn't like funny things!?!? The only things that she laughs at in relation to humor and animals is when misfortune befalls them, like falling into some sort of body of water or getting bonked on the head so hard that they can't walk right. Needless to say when I showed her this gem...her reaction went something like this:
Beverley: a cat laying on a computer is not that funny.
ashley: rolling qwerty…
that is sooo funny
Beverley: it's ridin
ashley: whatever…do you get it?
we be ridin dirty
but riding qwerty
Beverley: qwerty is a keyboard?
ashley: look at the top left 6 keys
Beverley: i don't see any keys
just cat
ashley: no
the one you are typing on
do you get it now?
Beverley: top left keys
esc?
f1?
ashley: the letter keys
Beverley: oh
ashley:
q
w
e
r
t
y
Beverley: i see that
ashley: so the cat...
is ridin qwerty
like ridin dirty
Beverley: wow.
that is so not funny
ashley: omg
i dont even know you anymore
Thursday, May 1, 2008
I Might Have to Kill Myself Now
This is a statement that I make more often that I should. I have never thought too much about it. But recently, my feisty coworker has brought it to my attention that such comments are inappropriate, as many people commit suicide. Now I don’t fully agree with this argument, because who cares…those people are dead…I didn’t really say that (It's ok…I’m already going to hell). So I have respectfully resolved myself to only use my suicidal hyperbole in the most serious situations.
Today I had such an instance.
I was staring blankly at my igoogle page when I noticed a quote that struck a chord with me. I could not agree with the poignant sentiment more. And it makes me want to jump off the bridge:
Today I had such an instance.
I was staring blankly at my igoogle page when I noticed a quote that struck a chord with me. I could not agree with the poignant sentiment more. And it makes me want to jump off the bridge:
“If I answer questions every time you ask one, expectations would be high. And as you know, I like to keep expectations low.”
President George W. Bush
Monday, January 14, 2008
Date Ideas…That Don't Suck
I have recently pimped my iGoogle with all sorts of Google gadgets including my Jon Stewart quote of the day, President George W. Bush quote randomizer, cute baby animal picture of the day, joke of the day, coloring page of the day and (the subject of this post) date ideas. I usually get a good little chuckle from my main man Jon, gawk in stupefied wonder at the things that come out of the mouth of the current leader of the free world, look at the cute animals, read the horrible jokes (I am sure that some day I will be prompted to write about this one too) and consider for a moment printing out the coloring picture and going to town. But the date idea gadget is that one that I really thought I might use.
Boyfriend and I are both Libras and if you believe in that sort of hippy-dippy patchouli crap (and I do) you know what that combo means…we can’t make a goddamn decision about ANYTHING. Sample conversation on a Friday night:
Me: What are your plans tonight?
Him: Nothing really…what are your plans?
Me: Nothing…you want to hang out?
Him: You want to hang out?
Me: I asked first didn’t I?
Him: What do you want to do?
Me: I don’t know…what do you want to do?
Him: Do you want to eat?
…you get the picture…
So as a result of our indecisive nature, I thought I would let my Google gadget decide the fate of our evenings for us. Good thought…in theory. In practice…these are the types of date suggestions that I have been getting as of late (no joke):
Go to church together…HA!
Play broomball…does anyone younger than my grandma’s generation even know the rules for broomball?
Alter a poem to fit the occasion, put it on colored paper and have it delivered…what am I? 10? You want me to plagiarize? On construction paper? And then pay $.41 to have that piece shit delivered? And how is this going to occupy our date night?
Tour for-sale houses together…isn’t this in direct violation of the cardinal rules of not scaring a boy away? “Hey honey…lets go find our future home together and while we are at it…lets choose our china pattern and talk about what we will name our unborn children.”
Shop for clothes together…wow…original…and so fun for both parties…“Honey…does my butt look big in this?”
So yeah…if you have any better ideas than this…like spooning our eyes out together…please pass them on.
Boyfriend and I are both Libras and if you believe in that sort of hippy-dippy patchouli crap (and I do) you know what that combo means…we can’t make a goddamn decision about ANYTHING. Sample conversation on a Friday night:
Me: What are your plans tonight?
Him: Nothing really…what are your plans?
Me: Nothing…you want to hang out?
Him: You want to hang out?
Me: I asked first didn’t I?
Him: What do you want to do?
Me: I don’t know…what do you want to do?
Him: Do you want to eat?
…you get the picture…
So as a result of our indecisive nature, I thought I would let my Google gadget decide the fate of our evenings for us. Good thought…in theory. In practice…these are the types of date suggestions that I have been getting as of late (no joke):
Go to church together…HA!
Play broomball…does anyone younger than my grandma’s generation even know the rules for broomball?
Alter a poem to fit the occasion, put it on colored paper and have it delivered…what am I? 10? You want me to plagiarize? On construction paper? And then pay $.41 to have that piece shit delivered? And how is this going to occupy our date night?
Tour for-sale houses together…isn’t this in direct violation of the cardinal rules of not scaring a boy away? “Hey honey…lets go find our future home together and while we are at it…lets choose our china pattern and talk about what we will name our unborn children.”
Shop for clothes together…wow…original…and so fun for both parties…“Honey…does my butt look big in this?”
So yeah…if you have any better ideas than this…like spooning our eyes out together…please pass them on.
Friday, January 11, 2008
I Am An Island
Have you every felt so alone and cut off from the world? When it seems like nobody in the world can reach out to you? That is how I feeling today…I forgot my cell phone.
Remember the days before cell phones and pagers…when we didn’t have to be constantly connected to everyone and anyone…including the telemarketers who call me regardless of my number being on that obviously worthless “do not call” list? How did we get here?
The idea of my dear sweet mobile…sitting lonely on my windowsill…chirping and ringing with its futile attempts to grab my attention…well…it just breaks my heart.
Remember the days before cell phones and pagers…when we didn’t have to be constantly connected to everyone and anyone…including the telemarketers who call me regardless of my number being on that obviously worthless “do not call” list? How did we get here?
The idea of my dear sweet mobile…sitting lonely on my windowsill…chirping and ringing with its futile attempts to grab my attention…well…it just breaks my heart.
Monday, January 7, 2008
I Hate Your Carbon Copy
I love email…mostly because I am a phonephobic. No…seriously…I have a mini anxiety attack every time I have to make a call…and GOD FORBID I have to leave a message…EEEEEEE! But that is irrelevant to this post.
Why must you CC me on the crunchiest of emails? Like for instance…let’s say that there is a young man living in my complex which is overrun by 40-60 year-old women. And let’s say that the younger guy has some friends over for a little get together that ends up going late. The course of action…if you are disturbed by this…should be to knock on his door and tell him to keep it down. It should not be to write him a berating email the next day and CC the ENTIRE complex mailing list.
But beyond that...people…if you are CCed on one of these types of emails…don’t reply to all and nod in agreement. The CC function is purely to keep people in the loop…not for public humiliation.
This has been a public service announcement on email etiquette…because knowing is half the battle.
Why must you CC me on the crunchiest of emails? Like for instance…let’s say that there is a young man living in my complex which is overrun by 40-60 year-old women. And let’s say that the younger guy has some friends over for a little get together that ends up going late. The course of action…if you are disturbed by this…should be to knock on his door and tell him to keep it down. It should not be to write him a berating email the next day and CC the ENTIRE complex mailing list.
But beyond that...people…if you are CCed on one of these types of emails…don’t reply to all and nod in agreement. The CC function is purely to keep people in the loop…not for public humiliation.
This has been a public service announcement on email etiquette…because knowing is half the battle.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Would You Rather…
gnaw off your own arm
or
go to your old high school’s choir alumni concert where you will have to hug people you didn’t even like in high school, be forced to sing with the kids, and bring all your friends and family to watch the side show?
Oh…I wish it was only a game...or that I actually had a choice. But it is not and I do not.
Tonight I WILL attend my alumni concert. My parents are forcing me.
“How can your parents force you to do anything? You are 26 for goodness sake,” you might say. And I would sheepishly “Bah” at you.
I don’t know how they have done it. But that have managed to get myself and at least eight other people to come to this humiliation extravaganza.
Don’t get me wrong. I was a total choir nerd in high school. I fully support the program by continuing to design their holiday CD every year, but I would rather not relive my glory years like the star high school quarterback who now pumps my gas and lives in his mom’s basement.
You see…in high school…I was kinda a “big deal.” And I would rather not live the legend…I’d rather just be me and look forward instead of look backward.
Well…I guess I got my wish…I am looking forward…to tonight…with dread.
or
go to your old high school’s choir alumni concert where you will have to hug people you didn’t even like in high school, be forced to sing with the kids, and bring all your friends and family to watch the side show?
Oh…I wish it was only a game...or that I actually had a choice. But it is not and I do not.
Tonight I WILL attend my alumni concert. My parents are forcing me.
“How can your parents force you to do anything? You are 26 for goodness sake,” you might say. And I would sheepishly “Bah” at you.
I don’t know how they have done it. But that have managed to get myself and at least eight other people to come to this humiliation extravaganza.
Don’t get me wrong. I was a total choir nerd in high school. I fully support the program by continuing to design their holiday CD every year, but I would rather not relive my glory years like the star high school quarterback who now pumps my gas and lives in his mom’s basement.
You see…in high school…I was kinda a “big deal.” And I would rather not live the legend…I’d rather just be me and look forward instead of look backward.
Well…I guess I got my wish…I am looking forward…to tonight…with dread.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Lets Talk About Spell Check Baby (Yes…Too Many Syllables…Live With It)
Ok Mr. Gates…I get it…you are the master of all you see. But seriously…do you think I am a complete moron?
Apparently so. Is it not possible that I would want a lowercase word at the beginning of a new line, or after…GASP…a period? Is it not possible that when I type the word slimey (with an e…because I grew up with your crazy spell check program and have never needed to amass my arsenal of correctly spelled words) that I really mean slimy? I guess not, because Microsoft Word seems to autocorrect such a spelling error as “smiley.” Ok fine…it is possible that there were some other misplaced letters in that word that might have made Word interpret my poor spelling and typing skills as something cheerful with a mouth instead of ooey (which is not a word by the way) gooey, but seriously…can’t we just go back to the little red underlines?
I know…some hot tech geek (read Boyfriend) is going to tell me that I can turn off the autocorrect feature. But that isn’t the point. The point is that in my last post I told you that, “I have an aversion to eating smiley insects,” and while yes…I am a little freaked out at the idea of munching on a happy little caterpillar…I was actually talking about the texture of such a creature in a culinary capacity.
I am feeling incredibly misunderstood.
Apparently so. Is it not possible that I would want a lowercase word at the beginning of a new line, or after…GASP…a period? Is it not possible that when I type the word slimey (with an e…because I grew up with your crazy spell check program and have never needed to amass my arsenal of correctly spelled words) that I really mean slimy? I guess not, because Microsoft Word seems to autocorrect such a spelling error as “smiley.” Ok fine…it is possible that there were some other misplaced letters in that word that might have made Word interpret my poor spelling and typing skills as something cheerful with a mouth instead of ooey (which is not a word by the way) gooey, but seriously…can’t we just go back to the little red underlines?
I know…some hot tech geek (read Boyfriend) is going to tell me that I can turn off the autocorrect feature. But that isn’t the point. The point is that in my last post I told you that, “I have an aversion to eating smiley insects,” and while yes…I am a little freaked out at the idea of munching on a happy little caterpillar…I was actually talking about the texture of such a creature in a culinary capacity.
I am feeling incredibly misunderstood.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Hey Bear Grylls…wtf?
I am a big discovery channel fan. Love the Mythbusters and the Dirty Jobs and shhh….don’t tell my engineer father…an occasional Modern Marvels. Recently, I have started watching Man vs. Wild a little…because…what would I do if I was stranded on a Norwegian Fjord? The host, Mr. Bear Grylls, (like he could have done anything else other than make a career as a mountain man with a name like that) has all sorts of useful information for me on local predators to be wary of and how to fight hypothermia (other than naked sleeping bag sharing) and flora and fauna that can be sustenance for a weary traveler. As interesting and useful as this info is…I can’t help but vomit a little in my mouth when I see him chowing down on a grub or ripping the guts from a lizard or chomping into the belly of an alive and squirming salmon. Gross! Was that really necessary? You obviously have a full film crew with you…doesn’t one of them have some peanuts or something? Couldn’t you just say something like, “if a person was really starving they could eat one of these,” and then not actually eat it. I guess my aversion to eating smiley insects or wriggling animals would not make me the ideal candidate for survival in the wild…I guess that is why the show isn’t called Ashley vs. Wild.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Did I Mention That I HATE Flying?
I hate flying*. There is very little about the entire process that I don’t hate. I hate having to foresee my every need in my destination. I hate having to figure out who the hell is going to watch my monsters. I hate the lugging of bags and the waiting in line after line after line to do something that is not the kind of fun that I think is line-waiting worthy. I hate being racially profiled and selected for the special security screening. I hate removing my shoes and disposing of all liquids…they thought of shoe bombs and liquid bombs…you really think they aren’t gonna come up with something else now? I hate being extra early for something I don’t really want to do so I can sit next to this guy who is drooling a little and smells suspiciously of urine. I hate sitting in the middle seat on the airplane…which for some reason is like vitally important for weight and balance because that skinny bitch a row in front of me has an entire row to herself. I hate how I always fall asleep with my mouth hanging open…even when I jury rig a mouth-closing contraption with my standard-issue unwashed airline blanket. I hate how they specifically pick out the small-bladdered people to sit in the window seat…really?...four trips to the bathroom on an hour and 45 minute flight?...maybe you should visit your Urinary Specialist...and while you are there you should ask for a referral to an ear nose and throat doctor...all that bull-like snorting is not normal and can't be doing anything for your social life. Free Diet Coke…ok…not something I hate. I hate waiting for my bags…which by Murphy’s Law ALWAYS come out last. I hate the thought of having to do it all again sooner than I would like. Can someone please invent that teleporter now?
*Don’t worry Boyfriend…not your brand of flying…I hate that commercial bullshit (Boyfriend is a pilot and I love that hassle-free stuff).
*Don’t worry Boyfriend…not your brand of flying…I hate that commercial bullshit (Boyfriend is a pilot and I love that hassle-free stuff).
Thursday, November 15, 2007
I Don’t Wanna
I’m sick and nearly deaf…and I don’t want to blog. Damn you NaBloPoMo! Curses! Can’t a girl just take a ever-loving day off? Why did I sign up for this nonsense? I don’t wanna! No! I’m not gonna!
Shoot…I kinda did…didn’t I?
Shoot…I kinda did…didn’t I?
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Full Member of the Pen 15 Club As of 11 A.M. This Morning
Ah San Francisco…the city by the bay…where people wear flowers in their hair and always leave their hearts behind. Cable cars, the Golden Gate Bridge, the sourdough…so many wonderful things are part of this beautiful city. What is my favorite? Hmmm…so hard to choose.
You know what isn’t hard to choose though? The worst thing in San Francisco. This is an easy one for me since I witnessed it today with my own eyes.
It was a lovely Sunday morning. The sunshine was peaking through the fluffy cloud cover in warm golden beams. The smell of wet pavement from the last night’s rain reached my nose as Boyfriend and I headed out of the city after a soccer game. As we looked out the window we saw joggers and people walking dogs…and oh…look there…a guy standing on the corner shaking something. “What is he shaking?” I asked myself as we neared his location. As we got closer I noticed the liquid stream that was also involved and the floppy pink protrusion that he was shaking. Yes…this man was peeing. Into the street. No attempt to hide it. OH. MY. GOD.
Appalled…that is what I am…APPALLED!
You know what isn’t hard to choose though? The worst thing in San Francisco. This is an easy one for me since I witnessed it today with my own eyes.
It was a lovely Sunday morning. The sunshine was peaking through the fluffy cloud cover in warm golden beams. The smell of wet pavement from the last night’s rain reached my nose as Boyfriend and I headed out of the city after a soccer game. As we looked out the window we saw joggers and people walking dogs…and oh…look there…a guy standing on the corner shaking something. “What is he shaking?” I asked myself as we neared his location. As we got closer I noticed the liquid stream that was also involved and the floppy pink protrusion that he was shaking. Yes…this man was peeing. Into the street. No attempt to hide it. OH. MY. GOD.
Appalled…that is what I am…APPALLED!
Saturday, November 10, 2007
If You're a Slacker and You Know It...Clap Your Hands
I fully intended to end my brief-post streak today as I am finally home and had more than five minutes to myself for the first time in weeks. But that didn’t happen. Instead, I decided to spend all day catching up on my Ugly Betty and Chuck and snuggling with my puppies. I thought I could multitask with the blogging and snuggling…but Gus was pressing so closely that single-handed typing was as much as I could muster.
So yeah…this is what you get. Live with it.
So yeah…this is what you get. Live with it.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Shut In
I have now been in Chicago for nearly a week and I haven’t seen much of it. Mostly the inside on my hotel room and its room service tray or the convention center. But tomorrow is the last of my responsibility and I am determined to explore this wonderful city. And by explore I mean take a cab to the nearest department store and buy things that I could have bought at home.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
C-C-C-C-C-COLD!
Chicago? In November? Really? What moron decided that was a good time and place for a conference.
I am sitting here in my parka in my fancy hotel room contemplating starting a small fire in the corner to thaw my nose out, because no matter how far I crank the thermostat up...it remains just above zero up in here.
Yes I am a wussy Californian, used to my cushy state with its lavish sun and overly-temperate weather, but seriously…ITS COLD!
I would write about the Mr. Chatterbox and Stinky McStinkison that I sat between on flight here or the near fire-breathing rage that I experienced earlier today…but unfortunately as the temperature of my fingers drops, my number of typos increases…and just trying to type this has taken like four hours.
I am sitting here in my parka in my fancy hotel room contemplating starting a small fire in the corner to thaw my nose out, because no matter how far I crank the thermostat up...it remains just above zero up in here.
Yes I am a wussy Californian, used to my cushy state with its lavish sun and overly-temperate weather, but seriously…ITS COLD!
I would write about the Mr. Chatterbox and Stinky McStinkison that I sat between on flight here or the near fire-breathing rage that I experienced earlier today…but unfortunately as the temperature of my fingers drops, my number of typos increases…and just trying to type this has taken like four hours.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Yes This is Filler…You Wanna Make Something Of It?
I had this super post all planned out in my head as I suffered further nightmares in my travels…it was going to be super. But unfortunately I am running on an hour and half of sleep and for a girl who prides herself on solid 12-hour sleep nights…that is rough stuff. Delirious with sleepiness (insert maniacal laughter followed by a crying jag here), that brilliant gut-busting post will have to wait until tomorrow.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Technical Difficulties?
I’m blogging at cha from the San Jose airport…where I have been, and will continue to, sit for hours. Apparently the plane that I should be on and 10 minutes closer to Chicago in is having a generator problem.
Ok fine…things happen…I get that. What I don’t get is this…the airline employee just came on over the loud speaker and said, “Ladies and gentlemen…may I have your attention. Our flight is going to be delayed this morning due to a generator problem in the plane. This is a very simple problem to fix, but our San Jose mechanics can’t fix it. So we have called the San Francisco mechanics and they will be coming down to fix the problem. This should take anywhere from one to two hours. Thank you for your patience.”
This information not only annoys me because I must remain here…sitting on the dirty airport floor, leaning against a trashcan…but it also worries me. Maybe I am reading this wrong, but it seems to me that the airline is basically saying, “our mechanics are incompetent.” Doesn’t inspire much confidence. Maybe I should always fly out of San Francisco now…at least their mechanics can fix a generator.
UPDATE: If you call United Airlines’ 800 number they will tell you that they can “provide you with up-to-the-minute information on flight arrivals and departures.” Well it is a good thing that I am smarter than the automated man…because he says that my flight is 2 hours delayed…but I know that it is FREAKING CANCELLED! It is also super than United has its act together and as a replacement for my 8 am flight they can get me on a red eye with a stopover in Phoenix if I haul ass to OAKLAND! Don’t worry I am smarter than that lady too and I got on a reasonable flight…I guess I’ll just hang out at the airport. It won’t be too bad…I have a whole clan of University of Washington marching band geeks who are kinda entertaining in a I-want-to-spoon-my-eyes-out-dear-god-I-hope-I-was-never-like-that kind of way.
Ok fine…things happen…I get that. What I don’t get is this…the airline employee just came on over the loud speaker and said, “Ladies and gentlemen…may I have your attention. Our flight is going to be delayed this morning due to a generator problem in the plane. This is a very simple problem to fix, but our San Jose mechanics can’t fix it. So we have called the San Francisco mechanics and they will be coming down to fix the problem. This should take anywhere from one to two hours. Thank you for your patience.”
This information not only annoys me because I must remain here…sitting on the dirty airport floor, leaning against a trashcan…but it also worries me. Maybe I am reading this wrong, but it seems to me that the airline is basically saying, “our mechanics are incompetent.” Doesn’t inspire much confidence. Maybe I should always fly out of San Francisco now…at least their mechanics can fix a generator.
UPDATE: If you call United Airlines’ 800 number they will tell you that they can “provide you with up-to-the-minute information on flight arrivals and departures.” Well it is a good thing that I am smarter than the automated man…because he says that my flight is 2 hours delayed…but I know that it is FREAKING CANCELLED! It is also super than United has its act together and as a replacement for my 8 am flight they can get me on a red eye with a stopover in Phoenix if I haul ass to OAKLAND! Don’t worry I am smarter than that lady too and I got on a reasonable flight…I guess I’ll just hang out at the airport. It won’t be too bad…I have a whole clan of University of Washington marching band geeks who are kinda entertaining in a I-want-to-spoon-my-eyes-out-dear-god-I-hope-I-was-never-like-that kind of way.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Happy Whore-a-ween!
Am I the only chick who doesn’t want to wear my underwear outside for Halloween?
Forget for a second the females ages 18-35 who give new meaning to “trick” or treat ever year. That has always been the case…sexy cat, sexy devil, sexy witch, sexy lobster. And I can even overlook the over 40 set reclaiming their youth in the same costumes. The disturbing trend that I noticed for the first time this year was the preteen (and younger) market for costumes with slits up to their hoo-has and tops that show off their completely unnecessary training bras. Um…parents…wtf?
Forget for a second the females ages 18-35 who give new meaning to “trick” or treat ever year. That has always been the case…sexy cat, sexy devil, sexy witch, sexy lobster. And I can even overlook the over 40 set reclaiming their youth in the same costumes. The disturbing trend that I noticed for the first time this year was the preteen (and younger) market for costumes with slits up to their hoo-has and tops that show off their completely unnecessary training bras. Um…parents…wtf?
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
An Irrational Fear of Patchouli
Disclaimer: This post may be mildly offensive to hippies, frat boys, feminists, and generally anybody from Oregon…so yeah…sorry.
Take a look at this:
“How could anyone hate this place? How could anyone leave it?” said my friend who shot this picture on a weekend visit to this serene scene. How? I’ll tell you how…
I am all for recycling...I love a good tree hug as much as the next person…yes I own a hemp satchel…but at some point a reasonable person has to draw a line. I drew this line four years ago.
It was a rainy November morning in Eugene, OR (not that that is any different from any other morning because it rains every goddamn day there). The temperature in my apartment had reached an all-time low as I awoke to my muffled alarm through my fuzzy moose earmuffs. I shuffled through my damp and moldy apartment to the kitchen where a batch of my roommates “specialty” (mac and cheese mixed with tuna and franks and beans…I’ll wait while you run to the bathroom to hurl) sat crusting over from the night before.
I willed myself into the shower and then into my “clothes” (pajamas + parka = clothes) and hauled ass to my calculus class in the pouring rain.
On the way I walked down Greek row where the “oh my god”s and the “DUDE!”s reverberated back and forth between the buildings and what’s that I hear? A collective retching coming from that sorority house?
Onward past the feminists screaming at some poor male who got a little too close and the druggies hackysacking and the yeehaws spitting their chew in my path and speaking loudly of hunting and logging.
I passed the graveyard with the creepy kids in black who pretend they are vampires and sleep on the graves and do god knows what else.
Soaked to the bone, I began to hear the drums outside the president’s office (right next door to where Animal House was filmed). The protesters were banging their drums in protest but the hippies didn’t seem to mind. They turned out in droves to dance half naked in the rain to the protest drums. Even through the downpour I could smell them…body odor and patchouli…the scent made me want to turn around, but a band of naked muddy hippie children had gathered at my back, so I broke into a run…past the Tuesday morning bible study…past my classroom altogether and back toward my apartment.
“Screw class…I can’t take this today,” I muttered as I pealed the drenched clothing off me and jumped into my bed with its contraband heating blanket that if my roommate would have know about she would of killed me for using $2 more energy to avoid hypothermia.
People who have visited the U of O ask me, “How could you leave such a beautiful campus?” It is because if you stick around for longer than a week you will see a lot more of what I described than what is pictured above.
No offense Oregon…you have some nice rivers stuff.
Take a look at this:
“How could anyone hate this place? How could anyone leave it?” said my friend who shot this picture on a weekend visit to this serene scene. How? I’ll tell you how…
I am all for recycling...I love a good tree hug as much as the next person…yes I own a hemp satchel…but at some point a reasonable person has to draw a line. I drew this line four years ago.
It was a rainy November morning in Eugene, OR (not that that is any different from any other morning because it rains every goddamn day there). The temperature in my apartment had reached an all-time low as I awoke to my muffled alarm through my fuzzy moose earmuffs. I shuffled through my damp and moldy apartment to the kitchen where a batch of my roommates “specialty” (mac and cheese mixed with tuna and franks and beans…I’ll wait while you run to the bathroom to hurl) sat crusting over from the night before.
I willed myself into the shower and then into my “clothes” (pajamas + parka = clothes) and hauled ass to my calculus class in the pouring rain.
On the way I walked down Greek row where the “oh my god”s and the “DUDE!”s reverberated back and forth between the buildings and what’s that I hear? A collective retching coming from that sorority house?
Onward past the feminists screaming at some poor male who got a little too close and the druggies hackysacking and the yeehaws spitting their chew in my path and speaking loudly of hunting and logging.
I passed the graveyard with the creepy kids in black who pretend they are vampires and sleep on the graves and do god knows what else.
Soaked to the bone, I began to hear the drums outside the president’s office (right next door to where Animal House was filmed). The protesters were banging their drums in protest but the hippies didn’t seem to mind. They turned out in droves to dance half naked in the rain to the protest drums. Even through the downpour I could smell them…body odor and patchouli…the scent made me want to turn around, but a band of naked muddy hippie children had gathered at my back, so I broke into a run…past the Tuesday morning bible study…past my classroom altogether and back toward my apartment.
“Screw class…I can’t take this today,” I muttered as I pealed the drenched clothing off me and jumped into my bed with its contraband heating blanket that if my roommate would have know about she would of killed me for using $2 more energy to avoid hypothermia.
People who have visited the U of O ask me, “How could you leave such a beautiful campus?” It is because if you stick around for longer than a week you will see a lot more of what I described than what is pictured above.
No offense Oregon…you have some nice rivers stuff.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
