April 2003 Archives

Progress

I picked up Giselle from school today, and she jumped into the car saying "brrrrrrr". "It's COLD out there! It's like ice cubes...like a whole LOT of ice cubes all OVER you...like ice cubes in a glass of freezing cold water...and it's been stuck in a refrigerator...for THREE WHOLE WEEKS!" Woo! I was impressed. Nice rant. And she's working on her similies :D

I am one federal tax return check away from starting that garage. I am on the proverbial brink I tellya. Like a sprinter waiting for the gun to fire. I've bought all the tools. Visualized the whole process from start to finish too many times to count. And now it's just pins & needles.

And now, I'm gonna go cook me up some nice smelly popcorn...butter smelly. Not burned smelly. I do NOT burn popcorn. I am a mastah popcorn-in-the-microwave babysittah.

Inertia

Well, I just got in from grabbing some lunch. On the way, I managed to sail up to an intersection just at that yellow light surprise-sweet-spot moment where my brain hovers between brake/accelerate for a few moments too long. So I nailed the brakes, which by the way are awesome in our little Honda Civic--no screeching, no shuddering, just incredible deceleration. Car occupants aren't as well adjusted of course, and in a split second, two out of three Jack in the Box Monster Tacos splatted into the floorboard at 40 mph. Grrrrrrrr. Broke every bone in their bodies; delighting the carpeting with a colorful spray of lettuce, taco shell and orange saucy meat. Mercifully, the majority of the bits and particles were preserved in the durable taco wrappers so I can still savor their greasy goodness. And the car smells really good now.

On the way in to work this morning, NPR had this little bit about politicians in New Jersey being under the magnifying glass as district attornies investigate widespread allegations of bribery to award government contracts. And the piece concluded with a statistic that 77% of New Jersians surveyed felt state politicians were "ethically challenged". Heh, ethically challenged. It never occurred to me that corrupt officials were a special needs group--

OH PHEWWWWW!!!! Jo just walked up behind me with a huge tupperware dish full of deviled eggs and swished the lid back and forth in my face. Urrrrrrffffffff. Fortunately there wasn't a conference going on in the next room to hear all the shouting. Ptooey ptooey!

Alrighty. I forgot where I was headed with the "ethically challenged" thing, and at this point it doesn't really matter, what with the last mangled pieces of taco now tainted by the reeking tang of hard boiled egg. I do know one thing, Jo's going to be occupationally challenged if she keeps pulling stunts like that.

::sprays Glade air freshener::

FYI

My plants abide.

Gilligan

Well that does it. I give up. They're going to ride me out of this building on a rail.

I went into the restroom a few minutes ago (I know, 'what's new'). And of the two sitter stalls, the first one was occupied, so I took curtain number two (hahah). No paper to read this time, but there was plenty of unflushed paper festering in the bowl. So I did a pre-flush. No good. Some went down, but not most. Now, I'm used to the plumbing in the previous building I occupied, so I assumed a second pre-flush would do the trick, with no ill effects. Oh how wrong I was. Up the water went...up...up...up, and I was thinking 'oh crap oh crap oh crap...' For a moment, it started to abate. But before relief could sweep across me, a final surge of pressure sent it lifting over the rim, and splashing to the angry tiles below.

Semi-fortunately, the guy next to me was finishing his business, and it sounded like he had started to quicken his pace as he apparently heard the growing volume of my muttered oaths. At the final critical moment, he hopped up in the air and crashed into the far wall of his stall--but he didn't say a word. Unlike me. I think I could be blackmailed with a tape recording of what I said in those few moments.

Well there was nothing to do at that point, but burn tire out of the restroom and find a means of containment. Fortunately the housekeeping closet was unlocked, so I threw together a mop and a bucket and raced back down the hall, past a number of grimacing bystanders who just naturally happened to be out and about to see me clattering to the men's room like a hooting chimp with tools. By the time I re-entered the scene of the crime, my anonymous stall neighbor was at the sink washing his hands. Oh man did he look ticked. He didn't say a word, but that was one angry dude. I have no idea who he is, but I know my face is now permanently tattooed on his brain.

I clackity-clacked the mop and bucket into the stall and started swiping away. The bowl had finally unclogged by some mercy, but 30 square feet of floor were soaked. Bleah. It wasn't soupy water thank goodness, but grodiness nonetheless. The whole time, people were coming in and using the urinals. So I did my best to conceal myself from their view until the room was empty, at which point I stood the mop and bucket in a corner, washed my hands and squeak squeak squeaked down the hall and away from my atrocities.

I'm afraid to see this guy again. I'm seriously considering bringing a twenty dollar bill in tomorrow, hunting him down and offering to pay for dry cleaning. Oh man, I hope he wasn't wearing expensive shoes.

I really shouldn't wait for these sort of things to happen before writing an entry here. It makes it seem like this is the only stuff that ever happens to me...which even though it feels that way, it can't really be true...can it?

Marketing 101

Amanda and the kids and I went to Soup-R-Salad for lunch today. On the way there, Harrison was making a big production about the little digital clock he brought with him in the car. So of course, Giselle started complaining that she didn't have anything to play with. And the complaining was getting louder. So I was searching around in the front seat for something to hand off to her, when I ran across this little black, plastic, cup holder. I wanted to increase its selling power, so as I passed it back to her, I said "Ooooh! Look! Here's a Space Hole!" And she bought it! There was a flurry of conversation in the back seat about 'my Space Hole this' and 'my clock that' and Amanda and I were trying not to crack up too much. But I guess she wanted to be sure she really had something special, so after a few minutes, she asked Harrison, "Do you want to trade for my Space Hole?" to which he said "okay." Having been assured it was a thing to be coveted, she yanked it back and said, "Well you can't have it." And much griping and fussing ensued, which fortunately drowned out my wheezing laughter. Man I love those kids. They didn't eat any salad, but that's to be expected.