My friend has bought a Chinese Crested puppy - one of those dogs that look like it was shaved by a deranged barber who left tufts of hair around poor dog's head, paws, and tail as a cruel joke. If ever an animal needed one of those embarrassing doggy coats, I'm sure the Chinese Crested would say," Nah, that's ok. I'm humiliated enough. Thank you."
So now, my dear friend is trying to come up with a name for him. She asked me for suggestion. I'm thinking “Wok”, as in “Wok the Dog”. His title sounds almost regal, like a soon-to-be famous animal superhero. Or, a Saturday morning cartoon. Either way, his name would be helpful and a time-saver.
For example, when you're in need of exercise, and you wonder who is going to accompany you: Wok the Dog. When your favorite pet does something really, really, really bad, what are you going to do about it: Wok the Dog … along with a threat of stir-fry.
I'm sure you can appreciate the versatility of this wonderful name.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Friday, January 27, 2012
Ain't Technology Great!
Since I don't have phone service, my iPhone updates as soon as I have a verified Wifi connection. When I arrived home and walked in the door tonight, a message popped up from my NASA app - another massive flare violently burst outward from the sun. Great! If Facebook doesn't tell me about my friends' exploding gas, I get a text about the sun's.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Why Facebook isn't called "Saving Face" book
I'm sure that most of your co-workers are like mine – kind, considerate, tolerant of viewpoints that differ from their own. Yet, what is it about Facebook that unexpectedly releases an ugly persona that some hide so well from us?
When a few of your dear colleagues seat themselves in front of that glowing screen of Facebook, you can forget the polite, social censorship they use when speaking to you face-to-face. It's as though a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde transformation takes place.
Suddenly, your angelic ally-of-the-workplace becomes a raging fanatic, condemning your mortal soul if you don't immediately "share" their post that promotes the saving works of their Jesus.
Your liberal-leaning buddy broadcasts their concern that all of you are not having enough of your hard-earned income taken for the government's noble-sounding (though incredibly wasteful) projects. When I say "broadcast their concern", it's in the form of ridiculing you for not sharing their beliefs.
Your dog-loving, save-the-animals associate plasters their page with pictures that have been on the Internet for years showing doggie atrocities. This usually accompanies their entry encouraging your guilt for not adopting the latest sadly cute pet of the week.
And then you have the loving mother who posts those darling pictures of their wonderful five-year-old child. Somehow this adoring mom forgets that you know how bratty and spoiled her kid actually is. In fact, you know this “sweet, innocent” child will be the next mean-spirited teenager who ties lit fireworks to the tails of truly sweet and innocent dogs. This hateful teen will then grow into the latest undesirable adult - that bully who works as a tax collector or even that person who abrasively preaches the virtues of Jesus and the 10 Commandments (while conveniently neglecting the ones on stealing and coveting).
You read your co-workers' newest entries on Facebook and shake your head. The next day, you return to work, smile at them, and think, "I read your little secrets. Please stay away from me!"
As the great general Sun Tze once said, "Keep your friends close, and your enemies friended." Something like that.
When a few of your dear colleagues seat themselves in front of that glowing screen of Facebook, you can forget the polite, social censorship they use when speaking to you face-to-face. It's as though a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde transformation takes place.
Suddenly, your angelic ally-of-the-workplace becomes a raging fanatic, condemning your mortal soul if you don't immediately "share" their post that promotes the saving works of their Jesus.
Your liberal-leaning buddy broadcasts their concern that all of you are not having enough of your hard-earned income taken for the government's noble-sounding (though incredibly wasteful) projects. When I say "broadcast their concern", it's in the form of ridiculing you for not sharing their beliefs.
Your dog-loving, save-the-animals associate plasters their page with pictures that have been on the Internet for years showing doggie atrocities. This usually accompanies their entry encouraging your guilt for not adopting the latest sadly cute pet of the week.
And then you have the loving mother who posts those darling pictures of their wonderful five-year-old child. Somehow this adoring mom forgets that you know how bratty and spoiled her kid actually is. In fact, you know this “sweet, innocent” child will be the next mean-spirited teenager who ties lit fireworks to the tails of truly sweet and innocent dogs. This hateful teen will then grow into the latest undesirable adult - that bully who works as a tax collector or even that person who abrasively preaches the virtues of Jesus and the 10 Commandments (while conveniently neglecting the ones on stealing and coveting).
You read your co-workers' newest entries on Facebook and shake your head. The next day, you return to work, smile at them, and think, "I read your little secrets. Please stay away from me!"
As the great general Sun Tze once said, "Keep your friends close, and your enemies friended." Something like that.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
This a-chording to me
Out of all of the songs for the guitar, I only know two. One is that classic hit: "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star". The other song isn't. I'm not sure what it is.
Oh sure, with a little practice, I could do "The Flight of the Bumblebee" with amazing agility. But, throw in a guitar and "the flight" would become an agonizing crawl - bumblebee not included.
A friend talked about playing "Seventy-six Trombones" on a guitar. I said, "That must be one huge guitar to fit 76 trombones on." After my friend made a few disparaging remarks about my intelligence, he went on to explain that it was the song called "Seventy-six Trombones".
A song? That didn't make any sense. Why would any one use a guitar to play a tune about trombones? What's next? Having a guy wear a dress to his construction job so he can get whistled at? What a drag.
Maybe I'll just skip the playing part and begin emulating one of my favorite rock groups, The Who. They were a charming groups of lads who would end their high energy performances by using the floor to tune their guitars flat. I can do that.
Oh sure, with a little practice, I could do "The Flight of the Bumblebee" with amazing agility. But, throw in a guitar and "the flight" would become an agonizing crawl - bumblebee not included.
A friend talked about playing "Seventy-six Trombones" on a guitar. I said, "That must be one huge guitar to fit 76 trombones on." After my friend made a few disparaging remarks about my intelligence, he went on to explain that it was the song called "Seventy-six Trombones".
A song? That didn't make any sense. Why would any one use a guitar to play a tune about trombones? What's next? Having a guy wear a dress to his construction job so he can get whistled at? What a drag.
Maybe I'll just skip the playing part and begin emulating one of my favorite rock groups, The Who. They were a charming groups of lads who would end their high energy performances by using the floor to tune their guitars flat. I can do that.
Friday, January 20, 2012
What did you say?!
Yay! Congress has pulled that noble-sounding SOPA (Stop Online Piracy Act) legislation for the moment. The driving-force - the MPAA (Motion Picture Association of America) - is a tad upset. But don't say anything. The last time we said bad things about MPAA, they tried to wash our mouths out with SOPA.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
I've Moved Closer Into The 21st Century
A couple of weeks ago, my very good friend gave me his well-used iPhone 3G. You probably know that Apple had to obsolete this ancient 3 year-old smart-phone as part of their brilliant business plan - avoid bankruptcy each year by giving us the privilege of buying the latest version of the same phone. Apple's woes aside, my friend's generous gift was a major step-up from my Luddite existence involving two tin cans and some string.
So, for the past few weeks, I have played with my new digital toy and have turned it into a somewhat effective personal assistant. I don't know how I've survived before receiving my sleek, scuffed iPhone. Yet, somehow I did.
For example, my grocery shopping trips used to be frighteningly similar to a confused mouse frantically looking for cheese in a very complex maze. Or whatever inconvenient aisles the evil grocer would use to hide my precious supplies. Eventually, after several mind-numbing hours, I would find my stashes of cheese and other necessities. Thankfully, I could then recover as I stood for hours in those ever-pleasant long lines of the checkout counter.
That was then. Now, my shopping experience is completely different. With the help of my trusty PDA, I can zip through the store with the speed and accuracy of a laser-guided missile. Where's the coffee? BAM! There it is! And BAM! Right into my shopping basket it goes. Immediately, my hound-dog of a phone points to my next unsuspecting target. Where's the soup? BAM! There it is! And BAM! Right into my shopping basket the cans roll! Where's the carton of eggs? BAM! There it is! And BAM! Right on to the floor the eggs splatter! (I've got to work on my overly enthusiastic aim.)
As you can imagine, my smart-phone has effectively shortened the time spent hunting for groceries. I can now get to those long, snail-paced lines at the checkout counter much, much sooner. But, while waiting in those DMV-styled people queues, I've figured out how to safely ignore the unmoving throng of decaying fellow shoppers surrounding me. I simply tune out by catching up on books and podcasts installed on my very smart phone. (Or maybe the smart one is just me. Modesty prevents me from saying, so chime in please).
Of course, it's not all fun-and-games. I am without At&T or Verizon's phone service. The good news is that I've figured out how to make free calls to any phone as long as I have a WiFi connection. The bad news is that this level of 'free' has its own set of frustrations. In fact, the more I use my obsolete device, the more I hit other walls of limitations. And each time this happens, I'm tempted more strongly to upgrade from free and into tomorrow's costly technology. (I'm sure that the more frugal among you will agree with me: if it is priced more than a dollar, it's costly.)
It doesn't help watching my engineering and geek friends gleefully play with their Android-based goodies. And now that I have a taste of what-could-be, I wonder about what an htc buy would bring to my next level of mobile experimentation.
Is it possible that the cell phone gods will smile upon me again? Perhaps an unwanted htc jetstream will fall from the heavens and smite my well-deserving noggin? ... hint, hint ... Or maybe this is all just a precursor to Apple's next competing product – the iWish.
So, for the past few weeks, I have played with my new digital toy and have turned it into a somewhat effective personal assistant. I don't know how I've survived before receiving my sleek, scuffed iPhone. Yet, somehow I did.
For example, my grocery shopping trips used to be frighteningly similar to a confused mouse frantically looking for cheese in a very complex maze. Or whatever inconvenient aisles the evil grocer would use to hide my precious supplies. Eventually, after several mind-numbing hours, I would find my stashes of cheese and other necessities. Thankfully, I could then recover as I stood for hours in those ever-pleasant long lines of the checkout counter.
That was then. Now, my shopping experience is completely different. With the help of my trusty PDA, I can zip through the store with the speed and accuracy of a laser-guided missile. Where's the coffee? BAM! There it is! And BAM! Right into my shopping basket it goes. Immediately, my hound-dog of a phone points to my next unsuspecting target. Where's the soup? BAM! There it is! And BAM! Right into my shopping basket the cans roll! Where's the carton of eggs? BAM! There it is! And BAM! Right on to the floor the eggs splatter! (I've got to work on my overly enthusiastic aim.)
As you can imagine, my smart-phone has effectively shortened the time spent hunting for groceries. I can now get to those long, snail-paced lines at the checkout counter much, much sooner. But, while waiting in those DMV-styled people queues, I've figured out how to safely ignore the unmoving throng of decaying fellow shoppers surrounding me. I simply tune out by catching up on books and podcasts installed on my very smart phone. (Or maybe the smart one is just me. Modesty prevents me from saying, so chime in please).
Of course, it's not all fun-and-games. I am without At&T or Verizon's phone service. The good news is that I've figured out how to make free calls to any phone as long as I have a WiFi connection. The bad news is that this level of 'free' has its own set of frustrations. In fact, the more I use my obsolete device, the more I hit other walls of limitations. And each time this happens, I'm tempted more strongly to upgrade from free and into tomorrow's costly technology. (I'm sure that the more frugal among you will agree with me: if it is priced more than a dollar, it's costly.)
It doesn't help watching my engineering and geek friends gleefully play with their Android-based goodies. And now that I have a taste of what-could-be, I wonder about what an htc buy would bring to my next level of mobile experimentation.
Is it possible that the cell phone gods will smile upon me again? Perhaps an unwanted htc jetstream will fall from the heavens and smite my well-deserving noggin? ... hint, hint ... Or maybe this is all just a precursor to Apple's next competing product – the iWish.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Happy Birthday To Me
I seem to have reached that stage in my life where I catch myself reflecting on my life. When I was younger, I didn't want to go to school. In my adult years, I didn't want to go to work. Today, into the second century of my life, I've successful made yet another trip around the sun and realized -- I just don't want to go.
Tuesday, January 03, 2012
Someone sure lit a fire under him ...
The LA arsonist set 55 fires in 4 days. I guess it's hard to quit when you're on a hot streak. Hopefully, he wasn't just following through on a commencement speech "Now get out there and set the world on fire!"
Monday, January 02, 2012
First Face Plant of a New Year
Excellent start of a great morning. No school buses to dodge, no early morning slow pokes on the road, almost no traffic in fact. So it only took me a speedy 80 minutes to arrive at work!
There, a deserted parking, dark windows on the building, and locked entrance doors joyfully greeted me. While the mental agility of a sleeping dog, I realized that today must be a plant holiday.
30 days ago while I was on vacation, I vaguely remembering hearing about a tentative 2012 holiday schedule. But no one confirmed or denied it when I returned to work. And since I work in the dungeon, no one bothered to make sure I knew about the change in the plant's closure.
Yeah, this is going to be a great year!
There, a deserted parking, dark windows on the building, and locked entrance doors joyfully greeted me. While the mental agility of a sleeping dog, I realized that today must be a plant holiday.
30 days ago while I was on vacation, I vaguely remembering hearing about a tentative 2012 holiday schedule. But no one confirmed or denied it when I returned to work. And since I work in the dungeon, no one bothered to make sure I knew about the change in the plant's closure.
Yeah, this is going to be a great year!
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Happy 2012!
What's your New's Year resolution? Mine is high-definition and life-sized. Actually, my New Year's resolution is to not to any resolutions. Somehow, I think I've failed before I started. That's all right though. At least, I get to have one more year of use out of my nifty Mayan calendar.
Speaking of end-of-the-world events, hopefully, the news won't report that some stupid terrorist ended 2011 with a bang ... unless, of course, that terrorist was alone at the time. That would then make him a genius. Maybe it's a good thing that we can't make New Year's Resolution for other people.
Anyway, don't worry that you didn't fulfill any of your goals for 2011. Just treat 2012's New Year's Resolution as the roll-over minutes from last year's well-meaning intentions. The way my life has gone, I have a ton of minutes!
Speaking of end-of-the-world events, hopefully, the news won't report that some stupid terrorist ended 2011 with a bang ... unless, of course, that terrorist was alone at the time. That would then make him a genius. Maybe it's a good thing that we can't make New Year's Resolution for other people.
Anyway, don't worry that you didn't fulfill any of your goals for 2011. Just treat 2012's New Year's Resolution as the roll-over minutes from last year's well-meaning intentions. The way my life has gone, I have a ton of minutes!
Friday, December 30, 2011
and we're done...
This year I did an extra special job at proving how badly I can wrap Christmas presents. Actually, it was more like smothering the gifts with lots of paper and tape until they stopped resisting. Not a pretty sight. The scene under the tree look more like an "after" than a "before" of the start of festivities.
Next year, I'm just going to give gift wrapping paper. Let everyone figure that one out.
Next year, I'm just going to give gift wrapping paper. Let everyone figure that one out.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
I Don't Think The Mayans Foresaw This
The greatest immediate threat to today's civilization is not global warming, that takes too much time to things heated enough. It isn't Facebook either. History shows that we've been surrounding by people filling our days with nothingness and yet we managed to survive.
No, the greatest danger that threatens us is tangled cords. Every day finds us dealing with a conspiracy of knotted ear-bud strings, raveled power cords, gnarled Christmas lights, and ordinary string twisted into evil contortions.
If you need proof, look behind your computer and gaze upon the assortment of Ethernet, power, headphones, mouse, and keyboard cords that somehow have weaved themselves in a frustratingly tangled mess. Just one unintentional tug and your entire system will topple over. Worse yet, if a slight sneeze moves that unholy bundle of wires just a fraction of an inch, you can kiss your unsaved work good-bye. (Well, you could have kissed it if it had been saved. I rest my case.)
When I worked on my computer degree as my major, the college offered several minor degrees such as business management and arts management. In spite of the critical nature and destructive risks to the computer, they didn't offer "cord management". Why not? Probably because the abacuses we used didn't have any wiggly pieces of wire to worry about. Even so, such a vital course is still not offered these days. Why not? How should I know? Do I look like the answer guy?
Although, one local liberal arts college has created a specialty course based on the recent popularity of singing reality shows. Their "chord management" program is devoted to the proper care and handling of irritating, obnoxious, singing prima donnas. I think the aim of the course is to keep these diva-wanna-bes from tangling with each other and their promoters. Perhaps this is the greater threat. I would look it up but my fingers have somehow tangle themselves. Sorry about that.
No, the greatest danger that threatens us is tangled cords. Every day finds us dealing with a conspiracy of knotted ear-bud strings, raveled power cords, gnarled Christmas lights, and ordinary string twisted into evil contortions.
If you need proof, look behind your computer and gaze upon the assortment of Ethernet, power, headphones, mouse, and keyboard cords that somehow have weaved themselves in a frustratingly tangled mess. Just one unintentional tug and your entire system will topple over. Worse yet, if a slight sneeze moves that unholy bundle of wires just a fraction of an inch, you can kiss your unsaved work good-bye. (Well, you could have kissed it if it had been saved. I rest my case.)
When I worked on my computer degree as my major, the college offered several minor degrees such as business management and arts management. In spite of the critical nature and destructive risks to the computer, they didn't offer "cord management". Why not? Probably because the abacuses we used didn't have any wiggly pieces of wire to worry about. Even so, such a vital course is still not offered these days. Why not? How should I know? Do I look like the answer guy?
Although, one local liberal arts college has created a specialty course based on the recent popularity of singing reality shows. Their "chord management" program is devoted to the proper care and handling of irritating, obnoxious, singing prima donnas. I think the aim of the course is to keep these diva-wanna-bes from tangling with each other and their promoters. Perhaps this is the greater threat. I would look it up but my fingers have somehow tangle themselves. Sorry about that.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
What Do I Want for Christmas?
"What do you want for Christmas?" What do I want? How about a brand-new Lamborghini? You know, $1 million would be the best present in the world right now.
I don't say this to my yuletide inquisitors, of course. Mainly because everyone who asks me lacks the means to fulfill my Christmas desires. So I respond pleasantly, "I'm good. As long as I have you in my life, all is well."
Yet, my sincere statement seems to satisfy no one. When Christmas rolls around, I'll receive the usual gifts that I would never buy for myself: like ties, socks, and odd knickknacks.
These well-intentioned goodies then put me in the awkward position of reciprocity. I feel that I owe my generous Santa some small token; something to show my appreciation for the money that they wasted on me.
I don't know why this one day of the entire year is such a conflict in my soul. When my friends and family need something important to overcome a rough spot in their life or need something just let them know that they are important to me, I take care of them. I do this throughout the year - with or without them knowing their benefactor. I guess the conflict is that I don't need a special day to attend those who are special to me.
So unless you have the means and desire to lavished me with some outrageous extravagant gift, and you know that I can't return the gesture in kind, save your money. Spend it on yourself, or save up for a rainy day. The upcoming year will be filled lots of rainy days anyway. In any case, don't worry about me. Just give me a smile, your warmest hug, and your heartfelt love. We will be alright.
I don't say this to my yuletide inquisitors, of course. Mainly because everyone who asks me lacks the means to fulfill my Christmas desires. So I respond pleasantly, "I'm good. As long as I have you in my life, all is well."
Yet, my sincere statement seems to satisfy no one. When Christmas rolls around, I'll receive the usual gifts that I would never buy for myself: like ties, socks, and odd knickknacks.
These well-intentioned goodies then put me in the awkward position of reciprocity. I feel that I owe my generous Santa some small token; something to show my appreciation for the money that they wasted on me.
I don't know why this one day of the entire year is such a conflict in my soul. When my friends and family need something important to overcome a rough spot in their life or need something just let them know that they are important to me, I take care of them. I do this throughout the year - with or without them knowing their benefactor. I guess the conflict is that I don't need a special day to attend those who are special to me.
So unless you have the means and desire to lavished me with some outrageous extravagant gift, and you know that I can't return the gesture in kind, save your money. Spend it on yourself, or save up for a rainy day. The upcoming year will be filled lots of rainy days anyway. In any case, don't worry about me. Just give me a smile, your warmest hug, and your heartfelt love. We will be alright.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
A Less-Than-Happy Fairytale
For the past few weeks, I had done a great job fighting off emissions of those walking germ factories, as known as my friends and coworkers. I felt certain that I had finally won this tough battle of the bugs.
Then, I awoke this morning. Immediately, I learned that my friends had generously shared enough of their sickness for my life to become part of a fairy story. Dwarfs included.
I'm not happy as I type this. And I'm certainly not going to be bashful as I tell you that I woke up very grumpy and sneezy. Since doc wasn't available, I knew I would have to take medicine that would make me dopey and sleepy.
As I tried to get out of bed, I discovered an eighth member of this sickly story – achy. Let me tell you that he is one pain in the butt, shoulder, knee ... everywhere! And nothing dwarf-sized about the pain either.
For now, I am going to pull the bed covers over my head and wait for the "lived happily ever after" part to arrive. Until then, I have another battle on my hands. The way my stomach is acting up, it's going to be all that I can do to keep my underwear snow white.
Then, I awoke this morning. Immediately, I learned that my friends had generously shared enough of their sickness for my life to become part of a fairy story. Dwarfs included.
I'm not happy as I type this. And I'm certainly not going to be bashful as I tell you that I woke up very grumpy and sneezy. Since doc wasn't available, I knew I would have to take medicine that would make me dopey and sleepy.
As I tried to get out of bed, I discovered an eighth member of this sickly story – achy. Let me tell you that he is one pain in the butt, shoulder, knee ... everywhere! And nothing dwarf-sized about the pain either.
For now, I am going to pull the bed covers over my head and wait for the "lived happily ever after" part to arrive. Until then, I have another battle on my hands. The way my stomach is acting up, it's going to be all that I can do to keep my underwear snow white.
Home, Sweet Car
As I left my home for my 55-mile commute to work, my car protested with random, gentle sputters. These sputters became increasing stronger and more prolonged the further I drove.
With each falter of the engine, my anxiety soared - what if I couldn't make it into work? What if I am urgently needed and I'm not available? Would I be fired? How much is this repair going to cost? Will I have enough money? Will I still have a job to pay for this overpriced repair?
As I arrived at my work’s parking lot, my faithful beast of burden violently lurched and spasmodically coughed to a climactic stop. At that point, the only thing still shaking was me as a carload of adrenaline and fear coursed through my body. I had made it, but just barely.
These little adventures have been happening on and off the past six months. Fortunately, I have AAA who has had to rescued me a couple of times now. And, once again, after yet another a tow back to civilization and much-needed repairs, my worries about my job and repair costs were greatly exaggerated over this most recent of adventures.
Still, perhaps I would be better off trading in my 300,000-mile car for a house-on-wheels. Today's recreational vehicles are pretty much a mobilized version of a furnished home. So, no matter where I get stranded, my broke-down vehicle instantly becomes a stocked kitchen, a furnished living room and a comfy bedroom as I waited for my trusty mechanic to begin necessary rv repairs.
In fact, I could save myself lots of time and money by parking my home-away-from-home in the parking lot of my employer. I could definitely sleep-in much later and still be able to dash to work at the last moment.
The only downside would be in not having the "inclement weather" excuse. "Sorry, boss, there's 2 feet of snow on the ground so I can't make it in." Not a problem though, with a little planning. I would only have to drive far enough away and maroon myself. "Sorry, boss. I can't make it into work today. I'm stuck in Hawaii."
With each falter of the engine, my anxiety soared - what if I couldn't make it into work? What if I am urgently needed and I'm not available? Would I be fired? How much is this repair going to cost? Will I have enough money? Will I still have a job to pay for this overpriced repair?
As I arrived at my work’s parking lot, my faithful beast of burden violently lurched and spasmodically coughed to a climactic stop. At that point, the only thing still shaking was me as a carload of adrenaline and fear coursed through my body. I had made it, but just barely.
These little adventures have been happening on and off the past six months. Fortunately, I have AAA who has had to rescued me a couple of times now. And, once again, after yet another a tow back to civilization and much-needed repairs, my worries about my job and repair costs were greatly exaggerated over this most recent of adventures.
Still, perhaps I would be better off trading in my 300,000-mile car for a house-on-wheels. Today's recreational vehicles are pretty much a mobilized version of a furnished home. So, no matter where I get stranded, my broke-down vehicle instantly becomes a stocked kitchen, a furnished living room and a comfy bedroom as I waited for my trusty mechanic to begin necessary rv repairs.
In fact, I could save myself lots of time and money by parking my home-away-from-home in the parking lot of my employer. I could definitely sleep-in much later and still be able to dash to work at the last moment.
The only downside would be in not having the "inclement weather" excuse. "Sorry, boss, there's 2 feet of snow on the ground so I can't make it in." Not a problem though, with a little planning. I would only have to drive far enough away and maroon myself. "Sorry, boss. I can't make it into work today. I'm stuck in Hawaii."
Friday, December 16, 2011
The Time of Giving and Getting
Yesterday, after making a record $36 million this year, our powers-that-be spent $4000 and gave us, each one a valued employee, a $50 Wal-mart card as a Christmas/bonus. Surprisingly, some ungrateful workers had the nerve to complain about this generous gift.
You would think they would be grateful that there are only 80 of us instead of the 200 greedy souls that existed just a few years ago. Given the various "make the investors rich" decisions that our new owners have made during the year, would they have spent $10,000 instead of $4,000 on our gifts? Yeah, right. A snowball would have a better chance vacationing in the Bahamas unscathed. Besides, this show of generosity goes well beyond what our previous owners did in December.
The old owners owed this business until three years ago. During that time, they would play "lottery Christmas" with their employees. The president would put our names into a hat and draw 10 of them out. These lucky employees would get prizes ranging from clock radios to large screen TVs. You didn't even have to be present to win.
It was a wonderful event, provided you were among those lucky few winners. During the almost 20 years that I worked for the old company, my name never got called. In fact, there were several of us who had a better chance of being struck by a meteor. For whatever reason, Fortune repeatedly smiled on a handful who had their name chosen more than once across those years. I could only imagine that some of us didn't kiss Fortune's butt often enough.
Thankfully, when the new company took over, they put an end to this absurd celebration of Christmas. So, when our glorious overlords handed out gift cards this year, well, my ship of good fortune had finally arrived!
In fact, I am so happy that I don't care that the powers-that-be have given themselves bonuses of $10,000 each. That is my Christmas gift to them – 14 months of work for 12 months of pay. Happy holidays, y'all!
You would think they would be grateful that there are only 80 of us instead of the 200 greedy souls that existed just a few years ago. Given the various "make the investors rich" decisions that our new owners have made during the year, would they have spent $10,000 instead of $4,000 on our gifts? Yeah, right. A snowball would have a better chance vacationing in the Bahamas unscathed. Besides, this show of generosity goes well beyond what our previous owners did in December.
The old owners owed this business until three years ago. During that time, they would play "lottery Christmas" with their employees. The president would put our names into a hat and draw 10 of them out. These lucky employees would get prizes ranging from clock radios to large screen TVs. You didn't even have to be present to win.
It was a wonderful event, provided you were among those lucky few winners. During the almost 20 years that I worked for the old company, my name never got called. In fact, there were several of us who had a better chance of being struck by a meteor. For whatever reason, Fortune repeatedly smiled on a handful who had their name chosen more than once across those years. I could only imagine that some of us didn't kiss Fortune's butt often enough.
Thankfully, when the new company took over, they put an end to this absurd celebration of Christmas. So, when our glorious overlords handed out gift cards this year, well, my ship of good fortune had finally arrived!
In fact, I am so happy that I don't care that the powers-that-be have given themselves bonuses of $10,000 each. That is my Christmas gift to them – 14 months of work for 12 months of pay. Happy holidays, y'all!
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Seasons in Life
In few more weeks, it will be wintertime as the freshness and the growth of springtime either dies or goes into hiding. In a way, it feels like our relationship has entered its wintertime.
For seven years, we’ve talked about marriage. In this eighth year, we barely mentioned it. When I brought it up the other day, I already knew what you're going to say – both in my heart and in my head.
For several months, I’ve felt like a yo-yo. Not just any yo-yo. More like your yomega yoyo – brightly colored and special toy as I traveled up and down the string of your ever-changing moods.
I don't want you to think that your endearing toy is about to cut the string to end this unpredictable joyride of eight years. Right now, I am just at the end of what you're holding onto, lovingly spinning, yet contemplating whether to go on our separate stages of life or to emotionally hibernate until better times like our spring had been.
For seven years, we’ve talked about marriage. In this eighth year, we barely mentioned it. When I brought it up the other day, I already knew what you're going to say – both in my heart and in my head.
For several months, I’ve felt like a yo-yo. Not just any yo-yo. More like your yomega yoyo – brightly colored and special toy as I traveled up and down the string of your ever-changing moods.
I don't want you to think that your endearing toy is about to cut the string to end this unpredictable joyride of eight years. Right now, I am just at the end of what you're holding onto, lovingly spinning, yet contemplating whether to go on our separate stages of life or to emotionally hibernate until better times like our spring had been.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
New Year's Resolution
As I contemplate my upcoming New Year's resolution, I realize we go through this yearly ritual only because we want longer and happier lives. According the latest top 4 studies on longevity:
Unfortunate for me, "people who procrastinate" did not make the list. To put off dying then, we have to invest a lot of time out of each day.
Hold on! If I'm going to spend 5 minutes on any life-extending activity, my days better be lengthen by more than just 5 minutes. Otherwise, I can just as easily waste my precious time on more enjoyable tasks, such as improving my skills as a couch potato.
Yes, I know I may look better on the day of my demise by spending more quality time on, say, working out. Nevertheless, I've never heard of any archaeologist digging up a body and exclaiming, "Will you look at the abs on this guy! No wonder he lived a long time. He must have exercised at least 24 hours a day!"
So, in order to make every minute of my 2012 count, I will undertake the most effective New's Year resolution for living longer, based on the previously mentioned studies -- I will religiously let some animal walk me 20 minutes a day.
I'm sure many people will be doing the same thing. Don't worry, you'll be able to spot me very easily in this crowd of leashes and pooper-scoopers. I'll be the one wearing a beer hat.
- Religious people live longer.
- People who own pets live longer.
- People who exercise 20 minutes a day live longer.
- People who have a drink or two each day live longer.
Unfortunate for me, "people who procrastinate" did not make the list. To put off dying then, we have to invest a lot of time out of each day.
Hold on! If I'm going to spend 5 minutes on any life-extending activity, my days better be lengthen by more than just 5 minutes. Otherwise, I can just as easily waste my precious time on more enjoyable tasks, such as improving my skills as a couch potato.
Yes, I know I may look better on the day of my demise by spending more quality time on, say, working out. Nevertheless, I've never heard of any archaeologist digging up a body and exclaiming, "Will you look at the abs on this guy! No wonder he lived a long time. He must have exercised at least 24 hours a day!"
So, in order to make every minute of my 2012 count, I will undertake the most effective New's Year resolution for living longer, based on the previously mentioned studies -- I will religiously let some animal walk me 20 minutes a day.
I'm sure many people will be doing the same thing. Don't worry, you'll be able to spot me very easily in this crowd of leashes and pooper-scoopers. I'll be the one wearing a beer hat.
Friday, December 09, 2011
What Are You Worth?
"Try not to become a man of success but rather a man of value." ~Albert Einstein
I tried to become a man of value. Sadly, no one on E-bay would buy me.
I tried to become a man of value. Sadly, no one on E-bay would buy me.
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