Just Random Shit

On the Big Spin this past Saturday (no, I don't have a life, thank you very much), a woman from Downey was asked what she did for a living. "I'm a libarian". Yes, she said lie-berry-an. I feel sad for the kids, really.

Warning in the booklet enclosed in my new hair straightening iron--"Ceramic plates are hot. Contact with skin or eyes could cause injury." In what context would you be putting a straightening iron on your eyes? Did some fool try to straighten her eyelashes? Oh, and then there's the usual "Do not use while sleeping."

The Book of Daniel was cancelled after three episodes. The disclaimer on Friday (see above comment about lack of life) said "Book of Daniel can be seen in its entirety on NBC.com. Now here's Law & Order". It was as if they were trying to placate us. "Don't cry...here's your Law & Order" I actually kind of liked Book of Daniel, even if it was a little heavy handed sometimes. I guess even Jesus can't save a show.

Mr. Grassie can't spellie.

On sale at Ralphs--Old Yeller Dog Food. Um, didn't Old Yeller have to be put down because of rabies? Is he really the best dog to name food after? Was Rin Tin Tin or Lassie already taken? What about Benji? Everyone loves Benji.

Dumb Parents--The big news item on Sunday was this 20-year-old mother who left her three-month-old son with a sitter whom she only knew as "Denise". What a surprise when "Denise" took off with her kid. The young mom, when asked about why she left her son with someone whose last name she didn't even know, said "I told her 'you better not hurt my baby. When I come back, nuthin better be wrong with him'". Yeah, if you have to warn the sitter, she's probably not the best person to be caring for your child. So, finally, Denise got tired of the baby and approached police officers saying "I've been babysitting this kid since yesterday and I'm tired of him". After mother and child were reunited, the idiot mom had this to say "my stomach don't hurt no more." Huh? At no point did she seem truly upset about this vagrant disappearing with her child or appear worried for his safety.

Saddam Hussein trial--Doesn't the new judge look like Ben Kingsley? And what's with the giant play pens that the defendents stand in. AND, in what court can the defendent get away with yelling obscenities at the judge, and then walk out. I don't care if he did used to rule the land, he's still a prisoner.

I'm Audi.

While the Cat's away...

I had errands to run today and I told the boss so yesterday. He cannot complain about this day.
When I walked out to the car this morning, a bird, who had obviously eaten at Panda Express before he perched in our Magnolia tree, had left his calling card on my poor little Jamie. I thought, "it's a nice day. I'll wash the car after I run around".
So, first stop is Bank of America. Signs everywhere in the parking garage say "30 minutes with validation", yet I never found the little machine that dispenses tickets to validate. Nor did I see a parking attendent, though there was a little podium, stool, and fan suggesting his existence. Shrugging my shoulders, I proceed to the bank floor where I waited for a short time to deposit my hefty (right) student loan check. I asked the teller if they had any check book registers, you know, the books that go in your checkbook wallet so you can right down all your transactions? She gave me this little booklet the size of a credit card that is for people who don't use checks and only use their debit cards for everything. I guess it'll do until I order new checks.
Next up, the post office to apply for a passport. The man at the first window I visited told me to wait for the woman on the end. She was in charge of passport applications. Okay, I had everything with me, so I figured it would be a snap. The postal employee in charge of passports was coincidentally already handling a passport application from a young lady who clearly didn't understand the meaning of efficiency. (have your shit ready is all I'm saying) I, meanwhile, have let three people go past me because I've been told to wait for the woman on the end. Little Miss Scatterbrain finally signs her application and "Oh, I have a package to pick up too." ARRGH! Still, I patiently wait for the woman on the end. Finally, it's my turn and the woman on the end puts a WINDOW CLOSED sign up. Ah, hell no! "WAIT! I have a passport application and I was told to come to you". Woman on the end gets all uppity with me and says, "well, I have a lunch break, so you'll just have to go to someone else." I was ready to, pardon the pun, go postal on her, when a lovely woman who had been straightening up the lobby area told me to wait at her window and she'd be right in to take care of me. She was sweet. Her granddaughter has the same birthday as me, and her son's birthday is the same as Randy, Roy and The German. $97 later, I was out the door and on my way to destination #3.
The parking bureau is always a treat. I don't know where they find such a friendly staff. While I was waiting at the bulletproof window for Miss If-I-Smiled-My-Face-Would-Crack to process my parking permit, some old geezer toddled up behind me, pressed himself right up against me and shouted to the non-existent clerk "What do I have to do now?" I turned my head and said, "well first of all, you have to back up. I don't need to count the change in your pocket". Geezer who was deaf as well as blind and just stared blankly as I shifted out from under his gross old man flesh.
After all of this, I decided that I deserved to sit back and let someone else wash my car, and that Jamie Jetta deserved some pampering. I chose the hand wash, Armorall and "mystic mist" whatever the hell that is. They asked me what scent: vanilla, cherry, banana, citrus or new car. I laughed and said,"Um, new car, I guess". As Jamie was entering the wash tunnel, it suddenly occured to be that I forgot to remove the Jack ball from the antenna. Oops! Amazingly, my Jack ball not only stayed on throughout the whole process, but remained in tact, without so much as a piece of glitter (it's the New Year ball) falling off. A Jaguar in front of Jamie must have had those rain-sensor wipers because they started off on intermittant and by the time it got to the rinse cycle they were going like gangbusters. Speaking of the Jag, there I stood in my tattered overalls, hair in disarray, faux Louis Vuitton bag at my side, waiting for my humble Volkswagen, while a steady parade of Mercedes, BMW, Lexus, Cadillac, and Porshe spewed out of the wash tunnel. I felt like an interloper. My detailer, Victor, took his time and really did a great job on my car. I felt bad not being able to tip him more, but dude, I'm driving a Volkswagen.
After such a tough day, the only thing a girl can do is relax in the chair at her favorite hair salon while the lovely Maria trims those nasty split ends. Me? Work? Heavens no. Okay, I'm at work now, but it's really just to send out a few work-related emails and use the computer.

A little fun thanks to Miss Kendra

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Laurie!

1. If you chew gum while peeling Laurie then it will stop you from crying.
2. Every day in the UK, four people die putting Laurie on.
3. Humans have 46 chromosomes, peas have 14, and Laurie has 7.
4. Snow White's coffin was made of Laurie.
5. Laurie is 984 feet tall.
6. Laurie cannot jump!
7. Laurie never said 'Play it again, Sam'.
8. Laurie is actually a fruit, not a vegetable!
9. Three seagulls flying overhead are a warning that Laurie is near.
10. Michelangelo finished his great statue of Laurie in 1504, after eighteen months work.

http://thesurrealist.co.uk/trivia.pl" method="get" style="background-color:#5F5F42;color:#CFCF95;padding:4px;text-align:center">I am interested in - do tell me aboutherhimitthem

Swimming Pools, Movie Stars

Last night I accompanied my friend Kelli to an award function for employees of the City of Beverly Hills which was held at the Beverly Hills Hotel. Kelli was receiving an award for 15 years of service and invited me. Our plan was to stalk celebrities and possibly lounge by the pool (so what if it's January and 50 degrees outside). During the cocktail hour on only our second Gin & Tonic, we set out to explore the grounds and discovered that there are too many trees to see in the rooms, the bungalows are gated, there's cameras in them thar trees and where the hell is the pool?
It should be noted early on here that I was a) wearing a skirt, hose and belly-binder, b) wearing heels that I had no business wearing, and c) still shorter than Kelli in her heels (dang, girl, you's tall).
Minutes into our third Gin & Tonic, dinner was served. Dinner was great. I didn't save the program for the menu, but the salad plate was a leafy affair with carmelized red onions on the side, main course was beef tenderloin with horseradish and mustard something on top, asparagus, carrots and green beans, and tiny potato slices. I'm drooling thinking of that tenderloin. So Tasty. The main course seemed to go quickly, probably because the overly-efficient waiter kept trying to steal Kelli's plate. There were two desserts--an apple tart thingy with a tiny little cup of cinnamon ice cream on top, and a milk chocolate mousse with a wild berry center topped in a hard dark chocolate shell. Rather than give you a choice, they just served one or the other to every other person--apple thingy, chocolate thingy, apple thingy, chocolate thingy, etc, so everyone ended up sharing with their companion. Both were enchanting. And we had party favors--a lovely pen and chocolates shaped like the seal of the city.


Then came the awards...Oh, wait, there was some dancing before that. We at the bad table (you'll see) didn't dance. So, awards...first the mayor did some talking and some awarding, then the funniest man, Jimmy Delshad, did some awarding. He was the Jewish Roberto Benigni, and kept us laughing but his stint was over too soon. Then some other guy gets up, who has no sense of humor, and Ilene, a woman at the table, fake sneezes "jimmy". This guy called boy Rene "she" and then called up Gabrielle when it should have been Gabriel. We giggled a lot. Possibly too much. Maybe you had to be there. Maybe it was the Gin. We kept wanting someone to thank the Hollywood Foreign Press. Kelli even tried to coerce a man at the next table. No one was having it. Finally, in an effort to get things wrapped up, Ilene went around and got the awardees of the police department, the last ones, to line up so we didn't have to wait for each person to clunk across the dance floor to get his or her award. And there were some clunkers, let me tell you.

After the banquet, Kelli and I found the pool!!! Success! My toes were cramped up at this point and I was hobbling like an old lady. Why did I think I could go from never wearing heels to 2-inchers right off the bat? Baby steps, Laurie. We tried our best but could not find a way into the pool area. So, we went to the Polo Lounge for another drink instead. We ordered our Gin & Tonics (did he not hear the tonic part, because whoa nelly, that was a drink) and they brought out snacks--spicy crispy something (it was dark), various olives (oh, yeah), and spicy walnuts. Had I brought a larger handbag, I'd have a darling set of silver serving dishes, but alas no. We talked, well, I talked and told Kelli all about my crazy family (and she's still speaking to me).
No celebrities in the Polo Lounge, just some weird couple who made out and gave each other hand jobs under the table (I'd have pointed it out, Kelli, but the girlfriend kept giving me the evil eye), and some high-class cross dressers (again, sorry Kelli, I couldn't point and laugh. It's a classy place). Then we got the valet to take our picture, took his picture and left.

I'd like to thank everyone who made this evening possible: Kelli, for inviting me and forcing me to show my inner girly side; Sears, for having a nice skirt on sale and in my size, Timothy, for helping me choose which necklace to wear; Marat, for carrying the big mirror into my office so I could do my hair; Bossman, for not being here so I could put make-up on and plug in the straightening iron without repercussion; the valet who helped me out of the car, and Marc (he seemed like a Marc with a c to me) who took our picture; the librarian dressed like a Scottish Highland Dancer, for making me feel more comfortable in my attire; and the Hollywood Foreign Press, because you haven't been thanked nearly enough this week.

To suffer fools

SUFFER
Main Entry: suf' fer
Function: verb Inflected Form: suf'fered ; suf'fer'ing
Etymology: Middle English suffren, from Anglo-French suffrir, from Vulgar Latin *sufferire, from Latin sufferre, from sub- up + ferre to bear
transitive verb
1 a : to submit to or be forced to endure "suffer martyrdom" b : to feel keenly : labor under "suffer thirst"2 : UNDERGO, EXPERIENCE
3 : to put up with especially as inevitable or unavoidable (This one is mine, kids)
4 : to allow especially by reason of indifference "the eagle suffers little birds to sing" — Shakespeare

I'm sure you've all heard the biblical quote (II Corinthians, something) about suffering fools and the more common phrase about one who doesn't "suffer fools lightly". The latter is me. I admit it. I have little-to-no patience for people who cannot think for themselves, who cannot just quit whining and get 'er done (that's for you, Larry) or who cannot visualize the outcome of their stupid actions fast enough to stop themselves from acting. Mostly, I just hate having to explain the same thing to the same person over and over, day after day, ad infinitum. So, I found it particularly troublesome that two different horoscopes today said that I would be faced with these fools all week and that I just need to learn to deal with them.
I am practicing my Zen-like approach to such individuals as we speak. I did not raise my voice or sigh in frustration as I explained for the umpteenth time that, no, you cannot forward fifteen emails to the same person in one fell swoop. Nor did I scream when I had to explain that I was not copied on the Hybrid Super Audio email, and that, though it was mentioned yesterday, I have not been told what I'm supposed to be doing with the information that I do not have. I resisted the urge to throw the letter opener into the back of this same man as he asked me the exact same question as he asked yesterday, using the exact same words, choosing instead to patiently answer him that I am still in the gathering phase of this project which I realize is due Thursday and will have it completed by tomorrow morning.

Now I realize I am by no means an angel here. I can try the patience of Job. The difference, you see, is that I don't have to deal with me. I have to deal with them. And it's going to take a whole lot of patience and a few night caps to get through this week if I'm already at my wit's end by Tuesday. I see a large bottle of London Dry Gin in my future.

Did you say sleds? We got sleds...

The helpful folks at GMail offer website suggestions based on email content. For instance, a recent email to my gals at school mentioned the Flexible Flyer sled. On the sidebar of my Gmail, were no less than five websites where I might purchase a new sled, plus a quote of the day regarding sleds (not Rosebud, though). At first, I thought it was neat, kind of like HAL was reading my thoughts and anticipating my needs. Then, it became kind of creepy. I mean, what if I was discussing a feminine itch. Am I going to get a list of websites for purveyors of Monistat? Now I find it downright invasive and annoying. Yo, G, quit reading my emails! I'm not funding a terrorist group or planning any sorts of civil disobedience. I'm talking about studying for my English final and eating lunch. Oooo...saucy stuff, G. Get a life and read your own damn emails.

And a side note to G's buddies at Netflix: Just because I occasionally like a weepy romantic comedy does not mean I want to see EVERY romantic comedy. I know what I want to watch and I don't need your friendly recommendations, thanks.


This blog needs more pictures. I need to get a power cord and add more visual aids. Until then, enjoy this photo of an angry cat. Doesn't it remind you of the martian in Bugs Bunny cartoons?

The joy of a predominantly male workplace

As previously mentioned, there are drawbacks to being one of three women in an predominantly male workplace. The first, of course, is the sharing of a bathroom. Aside from the pee on the toilet seat (which has ceased since Eric quit), there is the empty toilet paper roll, the odor, the inability to put a paper towel in the trash can, etc, etc. What gene are men lacking that prevents them from having the basic motor functions required to change a roll of toilet paper? They all say "it's not me" and yet every time I go into the bathroom the roll is empty and there's an unwrapped roll of TP on the tank lid. Three women, 15 men--do the math.

The second drawback is, well, no matter how hard the HR department tries to prevent these things...there's porn. I'm not shy when it comes to nudity, but really, do I need to see women in various poses having you-don't-want-to-know done to them every time I go downstairs? It's not like I'm offended as a woman or feel that it's objectifying us or any of that feminist crap; it's just not something I need to see at 9:00 in the morning. And that's just the straight porn. We gots the gay porn too. Name a fetish, it's fully represented here.

Next, and this one is just universal, you can't be in a bad mood without it being "that time of the month". No, it's not that time of the month. It's the fact that I have to babysit all y'all that puts me in a bad mood every day.

Of course, it's not all bad. At least I never have to change the water cooler bottle.