I watched It's The Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown this week. I have to say that Lucy has some mad pumpkin carving skills. I mean, her designs are kind of simple, but did you see how fast she accomplished it? She just stuck the knife in, spun it around, and BAM! You'd think she was passing a warm knife through butter.
Last night I helped my kids carve their pumpkins, which basically means I carved two pumpkins. These things aren't exactly easy to carve. It took me five minutes just to get the lid off of my daughter's pumpkin. I cut a circle around the top just like I always do and the damn thing wouldn't come out. I even stuck a spatula in the slit I had cut to try and wedge the top off, but it snapped my spatula in two.
A little background: my kids got their pumpkins from my in-laws. Now my father-in-law is pretty even keeled about these things, though conservative to be sure, but my mother-in-law is so conservative-Christian that she won't even use the term Easter. She calls it resurrection Sunday. And the notion of celebrating Halloween is anathema to her. I just know that she did research and found the most uncarvable pumpkins around. There's probably some Christian Pumpkin website where you can buy Jack-o-lantern Free Pumpkins. It probably has little cherub angels floating around with harps saying, "We've grown the devil out of these pumpkins."
Well, the joke is on them. Because I carved those damn things. And sure, I might have lost a spatula in the making, but I carved those pumpkins into the most wicked jack-o-lanterns you've ever seen. One is in the shape of this cute googly eyed bat and the other is Spiderman.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
IT'S OFFICIAL!
I am officially a PAID writer. YAY!
"What did you write?"
"Can I see/read it anywhere?"
"Who was it for, have I heard of them?"
"Will there be more work in the future?"
All excellent questions. Unfortunately I only know the answer to one of them. I will disclose all information when I have it all to give you. For now, I am just excited to be able to say that I am a paid writer. I am totally putting that on my tax returns this year.
"What did you write?"
"Can I see/read it anywhere?"
"Who was it for, have I heard of them?"
"Will there be more work in the future?"
All excellent questions. Unfortunately I only know the answer to one of them. I will disclose all information when I have it all to give you. For now, I am just excited to be able to say that I am a paid writer. I am totally putting that on my tax returns this year.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
1039
Yay! We've reached 1039 visitors!
Is it obvious that I completely missed the 1000 milestone. What a loser.
So look, if you were visitor 1000 you deserve something. Not something big or important, mind you, but something. Maybe an autograph on loose leaf paper or a drawing or something.
So, just name what you feel like you deserve.
Then I'll come up with a list of reason why I cannot do it.
Then you'll name something similar, only slightly more reasonable.
Then we will begin what is called haggling. But don't get discouraged, as though you will never receive anything, like with those money back rebates. I will give you something. I have a whole collection of pens that don't write. We'll find something.
Is it obvious that I completely missed the 1000 milestone. What a loser.
So look, if you were visitor 1000 you deserve something. Not something big or important, mind you, but something. Maybe an autograph on loose leaf paper or a drawing or something.
So, just name what you feel like you deserve.
Then I'll come up with a list of reason why I cannot do it.
Then you'll name something similar, only slightly more reasonable.
Then we will begin what is called haggling. But don't get discouraged, as though you will never receive anything, like with those money back rebates. I will give you something. I have a whole collection of pens that don't write. We'll find something.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Waking up Late
You know, I recommend it to everyone: waking up late.
I woke up at 7:38am today. I'm supposed to be at work at 8:00am and I have an hour commute; not to mention the time it takes to get ready (about 10 minutes).
I was late.
Truth is, my carpool called, which is the only reason I woke up that early, and I instantly knew I was late. There's just something about that feeling of waking up refreshed when you know good and well you got to bed late, and by all rights you should feel like hell. Well I woke up feeling like a million bucks. Ok, I have no idea what a million bucks feels like. I woke up feeling like 2800 bucks, tax free.
Then came the problems. Technically I took Tuesday off because my kids were sick, and technically I have a job interview tomorrow for a promotion (that I don't really want). So it isn't exactly a good day to call in sick or be late.
But I felt great! So it didn't matter!
I hopped out of bed and told my wife, who was also quite late at this point, that I would feed the kids, which I did. Then when I told them they were late my daughter started crying. She gets really upset about things like being late. This is probably because she's too young to understand how important it really is. So, rather than leave the kids to my wife and get to work just a little late, I took my daughter to school and missed the last bus into the city.
Now I was looking at being almost two hours late to work. But I still felt great!
So I was driving along on this crisp, chilly morning, running two hours late and just feeling peachy. I rolled the window down and smelled the fresh morning air. It smelled awesome. There's just something better about the air outside when everyone else is at work. It smells fresher, or perhaps freer. It smells like playing hookey and that smells fantastic.
So I recommend that everyone wake up late, or better yet, take a sick day. YOU DESERVE IT! Sabatoge your clock. Change am to pm and pretend it was a mistake. Unplug it and convince your spouse that the power went out over night.
And if you get fired don't even try to sue me. You knew it was a bad idea from the beginning.
I woke up at 7:38am today. I'm supposed to be at work at 8:00am and I have an hour commute; not to mention the time it takes to get ready (about 10 minutes).
I was late.
Truth is, my carpool called, which is the only reason I woke up that early, and I instantly knew I was late. There's just something about that feeling of waking up refreshed when you know good and well you got to bed late, and by all rights you should feel like hell. Well I woke up feeling like a million bucks. Ok, I have no idea what a million bucks feels like. I woke up feeling like 2800 bucks, tax free.
Then came the problems. Technically I took Tuesday off because my kids were sick, and technically I have a job interview tomorrow for a promotion (that I don't really want). So it isn't exactly a good day to call in sick or be late.
But I felt great! So it didn't matter!
I hopped out of bed and told my wife, who was also quite late at this point, that I would feed the kids, which I did. Then when I told them they were late my daughter started crying. She gets really upset about things like being late. This is probably because she's too young to understand how important it really is. So, rather than leave the kids to my wife and get to work just a little late, I took my daughter to school and missed the last bus into the city.
Now I was looking at being almost two hours late to work. But I still felt great!
So I was driving along on this crisp, chilly morning, running two hours late and just feeling peachy. I rolled the window down and smelled the fresh morning air. It smelled awesome. There's just something better about the air outside when everyone else is at work. It smells fresher, or perhaps freer. It smells like playing hookey and that smells fantastic.
So I recommend that everyone wake up late, or better yet, take a sick day. YOU DESERVE IT! Sabatoge your clock. Change am to pm and pretend it was a mistake. Unplug it and convince your spouse that the power went out over night.
And if you get fired don't even try to sue me. You knew it was a bad idea from the beginning.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Friday, October 19, 2007
Bad News
Ok, so yesterday I had a meeting. It was at 11 o'clock. I'm typically late for meetings (because they suck), but I'm also fairly inconsistant (because I don't want "the Man" to get a bead on me), so I arrived early to this meeting.
As I stood outside the meeting room all of the other meeting attendants showed up. I had never noticed it before, but as I looked at my group I realized there were some fairly stereotypical architypes in the group. There was the Excentric Retiree, back on contract. There was the distinguished, no nonsense black female assistant to the assistant commissioner. There was the oriental IT guy who speaks with a heavy accent. There was the slightly overweight, laid-back white male coffee drinker. There was the youngish, over worked-but driven subject matter expert. And there was me.
So I stood there looking around the group before our meeting and I thought to myself: these probably aren't architypes at all. I've just been working with these guys for so long that it's hard for me to imagine the job without them.
Then the other meeting ended and out came its attendees. First came an excentric retiree, back on contract. Then came a distinguished, no nonsense, black female assistant to the assistant commissioner. Then the oriental IT guy. He actually waved to our IT guy. Then came a slightly overweight white guy with a cup of coffee in his hand. Then a youngish lady, who looked incredibly harried and determined.
I couldn't believe it! Every person in our group had a mirror in the other group. They weren't identical, but their character was represented. Then one of the members of my meeting started to go into the meeting room, but he stopped and backed up to make room for the last person from the last meeting to exit. "It must be my mirror," I thought. It had to be. The universe was about to reveal my true character to me. I held my breath. Then out came...
a troll.
Now I don't believe in trolls, but if ever a troll existed this was him. He stood about 5'7". He was easily 50 pounds over weight. He was slightly hunched over and copious amounts of hair were sprouting from the back of his shirt collar. His nose was huge and hooked and his forehead was shaped like a brick. The top of his head was mostly bald, but he still wore his hair longish and unkempt. His walk was more of a bow-legged waddle, and when he exited the room he belched and dropped all of his papers, which were already in complete disarray. "Awe, f***," he said, rather less than eloquently. Then as he bent over to pick up the papers he farted audibly. He immediately stood up and look almost embarrassed. Then he pointed to the 'no nonsense black female assistant to the assistant commissioner' and said, "It was her!" And burst into a gross laughter that was a cross between Har Har Har and Raw Raw Raw. I think he bumped everyone from our meeting on his way by, except me, saying "Excuse me," only to me, and the smell of him lingered in the meeting room until long after our meeting had dispersed.
Suffice it to say that the meeting was a total wash for me. I kept wondering if everyone else had noticed the similarites between all of the character architypes, and whether they had associated troll-man with me, as I had done. And what if there really was a connection? What if the universe was trying to tell me something? Surely not, right?
Surely not.
As I stood outside the meeting room all of the other meeting attendants showed up. I had never noticed it before, but as I looked at my group I realized there were some fairly stereotypical architypes in the group. There was the Excentric Retiree, back on contract. There was the distinguished, no nonsense black female assistant to the assistant commissioner. There was the oriental IT guy who speaks with a heavy accent. There was the slightly overweight, laid-back white male coffee drinker. There was the youngish, over worked-but driven subject matter expert. And there was me.
So I stood there looking around the group before our meeting and I thought to myself: these probably aren't architypes at all. I've just been working with these guys for so long that it's hard for me to imagine the job without them.
Then the other meeting ended and out came its attendees. First came an excentric retiree, back on contract. Then came a distinguished, no nonsense, black female assistant to the assistant commissioner. Then the oriental IT guy. He actually waved to our IT guy. Then came a slightly overweight white guy with a cup of coffee in his hand. Then a youngish lady, who looked incredibly harried and determined.
I couldn't believe it! Every person in our group had a mirror in the other group. They weren't identical, but their character was represented. Then one of the members of my meeting started to go into the meeting room, but he stopped and backed up to make room for the last person from the last meeting to exit. "It must be my mirror," I thought. It had to be. The universe was about to reveal my true character to me. I held my breath. Then out came...
a troll.
Now I don't believe in trolls, but if ever a troll existed this was him. He stood about 5'7". He was easily 50 pounds over weight. He was slightly hunched over and copious amounts of hair were sprouting from the back of his shirt collar. His nose was huge and hooked and his forehead was shaped like a brick. The top of his head was mostly bald, but he still wore his hair longish and unkempt. His walk was more of a bow-legged waddle, and when he exited the room he belched and dropped all of his papers, which were already in complete disarray. "Awe, f***," he said, rather less than eloquently. Then as he bent over to pick up the papers he farted audibly. He immediately stood up and look almost embarrassed. Then he pointed to the 'no nonsense black female assistant to the assistant commissioner' and said, "It was her!" And burst into a gross laughter that was a cross between Har Har Har and Raw Raw Raw. I think he bumped everyone from our meeting on his way by, except me, saying "Excuse me," only to me, and the smell of him lingered in the meeting room until long after our meeting had dispersed.
Suffice it to say that the meeting was a total wash for me. I kept wondering if everyone else had noticed the similarites between all of the character architypes, and whether they had associated troll-man with me, as I had done. And what if there really was a connection? What if the universe was trying to tell me something? Surely not, right?
Surely not.
Is it me?
Is it me or is nobody keeping up their blogs the way they used to? It seems like ALL of the blogs I frequent have either gone on hiatus or slowed to a crawl. Is there something about fall that inspires people to do nothing?
I mean, sure my blogs have fallen behind, but I'm a slacker by trade; it's one of my endearing qualities. I'd hate to disappoint my adoring fans by stepping up and becoming reliable. That'd be creepy.
But everybody else is just being lazy. All of the blogs I love to visit... you people need to step up and get the lead out of your ass. Do it for me.
I mean, sure my blogs have fallen behind, but I'm a slacker by trade; it's one of my endearing qualities. I'd hate to disappoint my adoring fans by stepping up and becoming reliable. That'd be creepy.
But everybody else is just being lazy. All of the blogs I love to visit... you people need to step up and get the lead out of your ass. Do it for me.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Hot Babes.
Hot babes never come around here anymore. And by hot babes I mean ANY BABES. Because on the Internet all babes are hot.
I don't know what has caused the slow down in babeage. I'm still as Internet awesome as I always was. Still, the babes have made themselves scarce.
I did a quick Google search on spells to increase desireability (of said hot babes for me/my blog), but it wasn't exactly what I was looking for. One website, which touted itself as a "love spell and voodoo" website had advertisements for "oils and lotions." It also had a weight loss spell and a potion spell for benzoil peroxide; the active ingredient in many an acne cream. Then I found a link on the voodoo magic website to a "real voodoo magic" website. That kinda summed it all up for me. When you run a voodoo site and have a link to a "real voodoo site" it kinda screws up your street cred. I tried to find a link to the "real love spells" website but there was none.
I thought about going to the "real voodoo magic" site, but just before I left clicked my guardian angel appeared unto me and reminded me that I already had two strikes against me. So I had my secretary go to the site and I looked over her shoulder. Lame. Everything required butchering a chicken. I can't butcher a chicken. If I had those kinds of skills I'd have a better job. And if I had a better job I'd probably have more money and thus I would attract more women.
Anyway, right as I was about to learn the proper incantation to attract "numerous babe suitors" my gardian angel showed up again with some kind of little deamon and a Divine Property Transfer form, #106. Apparently there is a lot of paperwork in afterlife. So I said, "It wasn't me. She was looking at the site." And my angel said, "Yeah, but you asked her too. You led her down that path." Then my secretary jumped to my aid and said, "I was totally gonna look at this website later anyway."
Then, of course, her guardian angel popped up and told her that she also has two strikes and that this would be her third. She also had a little red imp and a DPT-106. Then my secretary said, "He made me do it!"
Nice. I can't really blame her, but nice.
Luckily my guardian angel and her guardian angel had a history. A fire flashed in my angel's eyes. He said, "Claire! Bringer of ugliness and fake boobs!"
Then Claire said, "Fake boobs! I'm an angel. My boobs are totally real and divine!"
*author's note: they were very, very nice boobies.
"And my name is Claire, Bringer of the Rain Clouds," she said.
"Yeah," my angel said, "But they're chubby clouds."
That's when Claire socked my guy in the nose. The little imps at this point had sidled up to each other and were placing bets on who would get what soul and who would win this fight.
My angel got up from the ground holding his bleeding nose. "Your little hussy was trying to tempt my charge to the dark side."
"Like Hell," Claire said. "That evil little bastard was clearly coercing my innocent lamb."
My angel froze for a moment. It was clear he wasn't quick with the retort. "You are lousy in bed!" he shouted. At that point Claire grew two extra arms to better beat the holy crap out of my angel. I didn't stick around to watch, though. I had work to do.
Back at my office I looked up a few more voodoo sites. I figured my angel was tied up for a while and I had some free time. They all sucked. It was just common dating knowledge mixed in with killing chickens.
For Example:
To better entice the ladies try these five fool proof steps.
1. Talk to some ladies (and slaughter a chicken).
2. Use the lady's correct name (and rub chicken blood on her face).
3. Do not fall asleep, or say, "Oh my God, you are so stupid," while the lady is talking (and debone the chicken).
4. Flash a lot of money (and throw the leg bones on the floor, if they land in an X then she is not the girl for you, any other formation and there is a 50/50 chance).
5. Smile (and if the leg bones landed in an X then ask the lady for some sex; after all you have nothing to lose. If the leg bones did not land in an X then ask the lady for sex 'PLEASE.' It sounds a little desperate, but if you flashed enough money it just might work).
See, common sense.
So, ladies... I mean, Ms. Ladies, have I mentioned that I have a lot of cash? :)
(have sex with me (please))
I don't know what has caused the slow down in babeage. I'm still as Internet awesome as I always was. Still, the babes have made themselves scarce.
I did a quick Google search on spells to increase desireability (of said hot babes for me/my blog), but it wasn't exactly what I was looking for. One website, which touted itself as a "love spell and voodoo" website had advertisements for "oils and lotions." It also had a weight loss spell and a potion spell for benzoil peroxide; the active ingredient in many an acne cream. Then I found a link on the voodoo magic website to a "real voodoo magic" website. That kinda summed it all up for me. When you run a voodoo site and have a link to a "real voodoo site" it kinda screws up your street cred. I tried to find a link to the "real love spells" website but there was none.
I thought about going to the "real voodoo magic" site, but just before I left clicked my guardian angel appeared unto me and reminded me that I already had two strikes against me. So I had my secretary go to the site and I looked over her shoulder. Lame. Everything required butchering a chicken. I can't butcher a chicken. If I had those kinds of skills I'd have a better job. And if I had a better job I'd probably have more money and thus I would attract more women.
Anyway, right as I was about to learn the proper incantation to attract "numerous babe suitors" my gardian angel showed up again with some kind of little deamon and a Divine Property Transfer form, #106. Apparently there is a lot of paperwork in afterlife. So I said, "It wasn't me. She was looking at the site." And my angel said, "Yeah, but you asked her too. You led her down that path." Then my secretary jumped to my aid and said, "I was totally gonna look at this website later anyway."
Then, of course, her guardian angel popped up and told her that she also has two strikes and that this would be her third. She also had a little red imp and a DPT-106. Then my secretary said, "He made me do it!"
Nice. I can't really blame her, but nice.
Luckily my guardian angel and her guardian angel had a history. A fire flashed in my angel's eyes. He said, "Claire! Bringer of ugliness and fake boobs!"
Then Claire said, "Fake boobs! I'm an angel. My boobs are totally real and divine!"
*author's note: they were very, very nice boobies.
"And my name is Claire, Bringer of the Rain Clouds," she said.
"Yeah," my angel said, "But they're chubby clouds."
That's when Claire socked my guy in the nose. The little imps at this point had sidled up to each other and were placing bets on who would get what soul and who would win this fight.
My angel got up from the ground holding his bleeding nose. "Your little hussy was trying to tempt my charge to the dark side."
"Like Hell," Claire said. "That evil little bastard was clearly coercing my innocent lamb."
My angel froze for a moment. It was clear he wasn't quick with the retort. "You are lousy in bed!" he shouted. At that point Claire grew two extra arms to better beat the holy crap out of my angel. I didn't stick around to watch, though. I had work to do.
Back at my office I looked up a few more voodoo sites. I figured my angel was tied up for a while and I had some free time. They all sucked. It was just common dating knowledge mixed in with killing chickens.
For Example:
To better entice the ladies try these five fool proof steps.
1. Talk to some ladies (and slaughter a chicken).
2. Use the lady's correct name (and rub chicken blood on her face).
3. Do not fall asleep, or say, "Oh my God, you are so stupid," while the lady is talking (and debone the chicken).
4. Flash a lot of money (and throw the leg bones on the floor, if they land in an X then she is not the girl for you, any other formation and there is a 50/50 chance).
5. Smile (and if the leg bones landed in an X then ask the lady for some sex; after all you have nothing to lose. If the leg bones did not land in an X then ask the lady for sex 'PLEASE.' It sounds a little desperate, but if you flashed enough money it just might work).
See, common sense.
So, ladies... I mean, Ms. Ladies, have I mentioned that I have a lot of cash? :)
(have sex with me (please))
Friday, October 05, 2007
get lucky
Ok, today I am wearing my favorite ant boxer shorts, which are just boxer shorts that have a patern of ants on it, I am wearing my Dr. Seuss T-shirt which is black, so it is slimming, and I am wearing my green and blue knit shirt which takes my soft chubby curves and actually makes them appear to be somewhat muscular. I am also wearing black slacks which don't fit altogether that well. Nevertheless, on the average I think I am wearing a fairly lucky outfit. I am undaunted by the fact that I don't believe in luck. Today, hopefully, will be my lucky day.
As a point of proof today will be lucky I have just sojourned up to the third floor for a bathroom break. The second floor bathroom was full. Upon my arrival to the third floor I smelled the arroma of baking sugar cookies. That in an of itself is a good sign. When I entered the bathroom it smelled of the bathroom at my maternal grandmother's old condo. I am uncertain as to whether this is good or bad. As I left the bathroom the smell of sugar cookies had been replaced by a smell I could not pinpoint, but which was neutral. And when I got back to the second floor I smelled analgesic of some sort; kinda like Ben Gay.
So, Ben Gay and sugar cookies. Which wins out? I don't know. This is why I don't believe in luck.
As a point of proof today will be lucky I have just sojourned up to the third floor for a bathroom break. The second floor bathroom was full. Upon my arrival to the third floor I smelled the arroma of baking sugar cookies. That in an of itself is a good sign. When I entered the bathroom it smelled of the bathroom at my maternal grandmother's old condo. I am uncertain as to whether this is good or bad. As I left the bathroom the smell of sugar cookies had been replaced by a smell I could not pinpoint, but which was neutral. And when I got back to the second floor I smelled analgesic of some sort; kinda like Ben Gay.
So, Ben Gay and sugar cookies. Which wins out? I don't know. This is why I don't believe in luck.
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