The fish bowl and other topics

I was watching a show on Fox one day. It wasn't a sshow I normally watched but it was on, and I was watching it. I was about to change the channel when a very powerful metaphor was delivered. Riveted I watched the rest of the show. And since I am going to rip the show off, I feel I should at least make mention of the shows name... if I could. I forgot it, but it was like a cross between the 70's show and Malcolm on the Middle.

Anyway, men and women are different, well no shit, right? But you can really see it in the way they argue. Men argue like popcorn and women like casseroles.

Men get angry and explode. Once it is done, it is done. It is over with. Issue resolved... move on.

Women how ever will get mad and it will just cook and cook and cook until WHAMMO! Which leaves us to say "Where the hell did that come from?" What makes it worse, is we can not respond. That issue is closed and all the ordinace we had for it was expended at the time of the war. We are defenseless. To make matters even worse, is that it is often tied into another arguement that has absolutely nothing to do with it. Kind of like us invading Iraq to get rid og WMD... but that is a topic for another post.

So I got this office. I call it the fish bowl. I am glad to have an office, and after our maintenance guys do something about the windows, I will really like. The location is good, close enough to the floor to be convienent for me and those that need me, but far enough out of the way to be quite and productive. Privacy is an issue though, or lack there of. Have a look. They may be blurry, but you will get the jist. The second one it the view from my desk... To bad those aren't exterior windows.

Wow, real time commentary. I am trying to download the pictures but the man with the telegraph must be getting tied, cuz it is taking forever.


20 minutes later.....


15 more minutes....


10 more minutes.... to hell with it... I will post them from work or somewhere else.

The fish bowl and other topics

I was watching a show on Fox one day. It wasn't a sshow I normally watched but it was on, and I was watching it. I was about to change the channel when a very powerful metaphor was delivered. Riveted I watched the rest of the show. And since I am going to rip the show off, I feel I should at least make mention of the shows name... if I could. I forgot it, but it was like a cross between the 70's show and Malcolm on the Middle.

Anyway, men and women are different, well no shit, right? But you can really see it in the way they argue. Men argue like popcorn and women like casseroles.

Men get angry and explode. Once it is done, it is done. It is over with. Issue resolved... move on.

Women how ever will get mad and it will just cook and cook and cook until WHAMMO! Which leaves us to say "Where the hell did that come from?" What makes it worse, is we can not respond. That issue is closed and all the ordinace we had for it was expended at the time of the war. We are defenseless. To make matters even worse, is that it is often tied into another arguement that has absolutely nothing to do with it. Kind of like us invading Iraq to get rid og WMD... but that is a topic for another post.

So I got this office. I call it the fish bowl. I am glad to have an office, and after our maintenance guys do something about the windows, I will really like. The location is good, close enough to the floor to be convienent for me and those that need me, but far enough out of the way to be quite and productive. Privacy is an issue though, or lack there of. Have a look. They may be blurry, but you will get the jist. The second one it the view from my desk... To bad those aren't exterior windows.

Wow, real time commentary. I am trying to download the pictures but the man with the telegraph must be getting tied, cuz it is taking forever.


20 minutes later.....


15 more minutes....


10 more minutes.... to hell with it... I will post them from work or somewhere else.

Come along, Come join the fun...

Since everyone else wrote about funny stuff they FUBARed, I thought I would share some.... of Becca's.

First, some news. Charity is truly a virtue of the season, I was GIVEN a B in Economics... God bless ye merry gentleman.

Okay, Becca's has had some quintessential blonde moments lately. She is sitting next to me as I write, so if my spelling gets worse than usual it is because she is choking me out.

Tonight, as we returned from town, she warned the kids that the deck may be slick... followed closely by ass meeting lumber. Her ass of course.

The other night I was watching TV and she was in the kitchen. There was a moment of poised silence followed by a loud thud. Ass meets more lumber, this time hardwood. Her ass again. Gravity truly can be cruel.

We inherited my grandmothers van, which we have truly enjoyed having especially for its improved fuel mileage. After walking the kids to class she returned to the van, parked next to her mother's car, in the parking lot. She loaded the Bem in her carseat and started the car. As she tried to pull away, the van did not move. She gave it more gas... still no go. paniced, she called for her mother..."I'm stuck!" Her mother got out of her car to examine the situation to find that the van was safely on the pavement. "You can't be stuck, you are on the pavement." A moment of confusion was followed by a moment of clarity as she realized that she was still in park. "Shit!" She drops the van in gear, gives it gas... still nothing. "I'm still stuck!" "You can't be stuck!" Another moment of confusion followed by another moment of clarity as she realized the van was now idling pleasently in neutral. "Shit!" Finally, the van was put in reverse and she pulled away, after a good bit of chuckling.

Tonight at dinner, shortly after ass had met lumber, she was sitting next to Bem at the table, she (Bem... anything is possible with Bec these days) was in her high chair. Becca put Bem's cup on the tray of the high chair, paused, then bent down to pick the cup up of the floor, in the process of which she clanked her head on the very tray that held the cup she was looking for.

It is now that I must comment that writing with a real time editor is not that easy....

Becca is a smart, intelligent, well behaved, beautiful woman whose normal composure makes these events quite rare and all the more funny....

That said, I will close.... I have some grocery shopping to do for my mother.

And the quarterback is toast

Tonight, I bombed on two of my final exams. I think it was 1 part choke-city and 1 part unfair testing practices.

I guess the math exam wasn't so unfair, although it was comprehensive. I was ill prepared and had a major brain fart to boot. Anything we covered more than a month ago was a total loss. It was ok, I only needed a 20 on the exam to maintain my A... I think I might have managed that.

Ecnomics is another subject, literally. This was a bunch of shit. 15 chapter in 15 weeks... 3 tests. You bomb one, you are in the crapper. To make it worse, test 1 covered 5 chapters, test 2 covered 3, as you guessed test 3 covered the other 8. We covered those 8 chapters in 2 class periods. To mkae it even worse, the chapter we covered the quickest, well second quickest as we covered on in less than 7 minutes, was the one most of the test was based on. I was prepared to calculate Marginal Propencities and use the Market Multipliers... naturally they weren't on the test. Ok, some sample questions.

Choose the answer that mostly closely represents the correct answer:

1. The buttons on Mickey Mouse's trousers could best be described as:
A. Abnormally larger for a mouse to wear.
B. Equally spaced on the front of his trousers when viewed from no more than 30 degrees.
C. White with two holes each and made of plastic.
D. Useless as they do not support his pants nor fasten them around his waist.

2. If you were to decide that you wanted to type, which one of these postures would you choose?
A. Laid back in the chair with a single finger on each hand out stretched to hunt and peck your answer.
B. The proper stenographers posture and hand posisiton.
C. An erect posture looking over the shoulder of my secretary.
D. Next to the printing press so to not get ink on me when the print is made.

3. Which best describes the color blue?
A. Not green
B. The color of the 2 ball in pool.
C. Known as azul in Mexico and Spain.
D. Comes in shades like Navy, Royal and SeaFoam.

4. The Moore County Sheriff department needs to purchase a new police cruiser. The money used to buy this car should come from?
A. The bank
B. The mayor
C. The state
D. Under Mr. Krabs' matress.

5. (Actual Bonus Question) Spell E-C-O-M-O-N-I-C-S.... No, I did not misspell it... that is how it was on the test.

I only needed a 3 on the exam to pass and a 30 to get a C. The way I felt when I left tonight I would not say that it is outside the realm of possibilty to say I got a 2.5.

Well, I finally got an office yesterday. It is affectionatly called the fish bowl. I will take pictures and post them. You will see why.

Well, I am off.

Quick note... I can not run spell checker because it refreshes the page, which means I will lose all I have typed. I know this becuse I have already done it twice. For those you find correct spelling important keep this in mind...

The hanum mnid can raed wathveer is witetrn as lnog as the fsrit and lsat lterets are in the rhgit pcale.

Christmas Party

Tonight is the company Christmas party. I will be a strange affair as I will likely be the highest ranked person from my discipline there. You never know how distant your relationship is with the people you work with until you get in a social setting. Then you realize just how close you are to your spouse.

I am not one to smooze, so these things are somewhat a chore for me, but it does give me a chance to show off my wife. Which is always fun.

We didn't get to go last year because I was in Montreal. From what I understand, it was the best one yet. I don't expect much out of this years party, especially considering the circumstance surrounding it.

Anyway, our old house rented out and the new folks are moving in. I went by to get the last thing out of their way and found out that I knew them. At least someone moved in that will take care of it. I remember trips to Michigan when my parents would drive my a half dozen places they once called home and point them out. I can't do that... I have two places. The old house and here. It is hard to think of someone else living there, but I guess it was past time for us all to move on and the house to get a new family.

A friend of mine at work and I were talking about aggravating yet endearing idiosyncrasies our wives have. These are the little things that may annoy mut would be sorely missed if they stopped. Robin Williams put it best in Good Will Hunting when he said that those were the things he remembered about his wife. The good stuff. The stuff that make them lovedable and unique. So, in loving tribute to my wife I will share some of hers.

1. It has become apparent to me that she is incapable of pouring a glass of coke out of a 2 liter bottle without squeezing the bottle until the sides touch, and then replacing the cap so it stays that way.
2. Every doll in the entire house must be face up before she can go to bed.
3. When she is dressed up and returns home she will immediately replace her dress bottom with a pair of scrubs or pajama bottoms. So she very well may be wearing a beautiful red blouse and a pair of candy cane stripped pajama pants.
4. When given cash, she is likely to stuff the bills anywhere. The longer she has the money and the more change is made out of it, the more places it will turn up. It is not uncommon for her to make $20 off herself doing laundry.
5. Becca is an amatuer biologist. It is especially apparent whenever we eat a cut of meat because she will dissect htat cut of meat until every substance that is not pure meat is removed.
6. Finally, at least for this list, is her unnatural passion for reality shows about child birth. This one does go by spells, but there is only so moany times you can see them things before you strat to wonder.

Like I said, these are things that I like. Everyone has there little things they do that makes them who they are, and to know them is to love them. Like I love her.

Internet at home... finally

I finally moved the computer inside and got the internet hooked up. It is only dial up and to me feels like a little man is sitting inside the computer tapping away the bits on an old telegraph setup. But still it is nice to have it.

I have decided to attempt to chop the top on an old truck I have owned before. I reacquired it in the Dart trade. Seeing that I have decided to not be a Miniver Creevy, I will give it a whirl. If I fail, I will haul it off and learn form the experience. Other wise I will move forward on the project.

I think I will post my car ownership list some time... it is good reading. But for now, I am going to sign off as this keyboard is wearing me out.

epiphany in an old Dodge Dart

I drove my Dodge Dart to work the other day. A guy here paints cars in his free time and he was giving me an estimate. Naturally it was more than the car was worth.

As I was riding home I thought to myself. Mostly because I have yet to figure out how to think to someone else and the car has no radio. I asked myself what it is that I really want to do with myself. What is it that I really want to become. Deep thoughts for freezing your ass off driving a 38 year old car that may or may not stop when you press the brakes. But still, I queried myself and came up with an answer.

I want to be really, really good at something.

Well,... duh. Who doesn't? I have to admit that this was a shockingly conceited revelation. Why do I want to be really, really good at something? So that people will oooh and aaah at what I have done and pat me on the back while wearing an expression of admiration.

What? Not for self satisfaction? Oddly, that would be the satisfaction. I think that if I did something marvelous and people admired it, I would take great satisfaction in that. A natural thought, I thought... Is that gas fumes I am smelling?

Anyway, so all I had to do then is figure out what it is I want to be really, really good at. To this I identified two major stumbling blocks.

1. I have always been quick to success in my endeavours. In this, I rarely have had to persivere and such am not sure that I have that skill in my toolbox. Although the aspect of obtaining it is quite alluring, I am not a stranger to frustration and abandonment of projects. Building a skill will take time and patience, which leads me to number 2.

2. I have become quite impressed with myself at how I have become more patient that I once was, but it still isn't one of my strong suits. To that, when my mind is set I like to be able to knock the job out and be done with it. If I have to string it along.. well, see no. 1. Which begs the question, what would delay my progress? Time and Money.

Okay, so everyone has thouse problems, so that is something that everyone must overcome to be really, really good at something. So we can omit half of that one as a obstacle. So that leaves us time and patience. Well, maybe they sell them on e-bay. Is ice supposed to be forming on the visor?

Ability? Ok, conceit warning, properly trained I can do anything. So maybe that should have been stunmbling block #3... no, not conceit... training. Where do you get training to be really, really good at something around here. If you just do it yourself, you will never go beyond yourself and reach your potential. So, what to do??? Please hold while I narrowly miss and non-moving object I saw a mile ago and still haven't been able to slow the car to miss.

Ok, after checking my shorts, I decided that I would take a page from Stephen King. No, no RedRum for me... I prefer to take my wisdom from one of his less disturbing works, the Shawshank Repemtion. Andy said it just before he made his escape. "Get busy living, or get busy dying".

I have no intention of dying within the next 40 years or so, so that leaves me no other choice. To shed my inhibitions and get off my ass and do something. What? How should I know.

I will tell you this though... I sold the Dart. Clean my garage. And am waiting for another epiphany to lead me to where I am going.

Until then, I will leave you with a quote from our good friend H.I. "Or maybe it was Utah."