A few years ago, my potential mom-in-law gave my potential wife-to-be one of those expensive Nino Bossi purses. Yesterday, I noticed that my possible lifetime mate had stapled one of the straps that had broke back on to this extravagant bag. Obviously, she is in need of a new purse.
Given my engineer training, I immediately began concentrating on the 3 F's: form, fit, function. I had my almost-love-of-my-life empty her purse. Out poured wallets and checkbooks (note the plural), enough keys to unlock every locker at a New York City bus station, a mountain of candies to make Willy Wonka jealousy, half of the Amazon forest in the form of paper receipts, and more embarrassing items than I care to mention.
Being the practical guy that I am, I suggested she get one of those small backpacks. She replied by adding two more F's to my strict engineering guidelines: fashion and an expression not printable in polite company.
Every day with her is such a joy. Perhaps "potential wife-to-be" is too definite of a term.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Friday, March 30, 2012
Mega-Millions? Not for me.
I'm not playing the Mega-millions for one simple reason: I'm afraid I will beat the daunting risk of 1 in 175 million and win. This means I will have proved I can beat the odds - any of them.
So, during my resulting vacationing trip to Hawaii, I will get attacked by a shark (odds: 1 in 11.5 million). As the ambulance rushes me to the hospital, we hit a Hawaiian deer (odds: 1 in 6,267). I then deliver conjoined twins (odds: 1 in 200,000), or so the hospital mistakenly charges me for (odds: 1 in 2).
No, I'm staying safe and sound, huddled under my blanket, in my closet, in a iron safe with the door shut. Odds of me getting out ... oh crap, I didn't count on that. Help!
So, during my resulting vacationing trip to Hawaii, I will get attacked by a shark (odds: 1 in 11.5 million). As the ambulance rushes me to the hospital, we hit a Hawaiian deer (odds: 1 in 6,267). I then deliver conjoined twins (odds: 1 in 200,000), or so the hospital mistakenly charges me for (odds: 1 in 2).
No, I'm staying safe and sound, huddled under my blanket, in my closet, in a iron safe with the door shut. Odds of me getting out ... oh crap, I didn't count on that. Help!
Thursday, March 29, 2012
bacon, bacon, bacon, bacon.
I'm not making this up! Honest! So if your dog needs another reason to look for tasty treats in the cat's litter box, Clorex now has bacon-scented cat litter. Mmmm Mmmmm.
In an upcoming commercial, a happy dog looks up into the camera and says, "My, my, I don't know what the cat's been eating but this delicious bacon has a crunch AND a squish! I'm so full of joy right now, lots of tootsie rolls of joy; I need to find someone and give their face several licks of thanks! Bacon, bacon, bacon, bacon, bacon"
In an upcoming commercial, a happy dog looks up into the camera and says, "My, my, I don't know what the cat's been eating but this delicious bacon has a crunch AND a squish! I'm so full of joy right now, lots of tootsie rolls of joy; I need to find someone and give their face several licks of thanks! Bacon, bacon, bacon, bacon, bacon"
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
spread out, spread out
When I was younger, I often heard my elders talk about "the middle-age spread". I thought it meant you would become very wealthy by your middle-age years, buy lots of land, and then brag about the acres of spread you own.
Now that I am middle-aged, I can see that I've been sorely misled. Still, the dreaded middle-aged spread has not affected my abdomen too much. In fact, I have a very well-defined six-pack. I've just found it easier to protect my taut stomach muscles with an almost slight-ish layer of fat – "slight-ish" when compared to very fluffy pillows or a triple-decker cheeseburger with chile (extra mayo, super-size the fries, and, oh, a diet Pepsi please). Yeah, slight. Almost. Ish. Okay, so my spread is more about what I put on my bread than about the acreage that I don't have to not exercise on.
Yes, I could eat more in the form of capsules. I could start sprinkling diet pills among the candy sprinkles on my ice cream. But, with so many colorful pills available, I'm not sure what flavor goes best with banana split. And what about the side effects? I don't mean the good kind like the extra side plate you have put next to you on your table at the all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet.
Yes, I could learn more at sideeffectsofdietpills.net. That's not to say that I don't think those pills are effective. I understand they do a good job of thinning your wallet. I'm just wondering if I might be able to contain my spread with something a little more economical. Like a little duct tape. In my case, maybe a little more than just "a little". You can fix anything with duct tape. Do you know that you can reinforce a paper plate to hold two roast chickens during an outdoor BBQ? Mmmmmmm... Excuse me, my middle-age spread is calling.
Now that I am middle-aged, I can see that I've been sorely misled. Still, the dreaded middle-aged spread has not affected my abdomen too much. In fact, I have a very well-defined six-pack. I've just found it easier to protect my taut stomach muscles with an almost slight-ish layer of fat – "slight-ish" when compared to very fluffy pillows or a triple-decker cheeseburger with chile (extra mayo, super-size the fries, and, oh, a diet Pepsi please). Yeah, slight. Almost. Ish. Okay, so my spread is more about what I put on my bread than about the acreage that I don't have to not exercise on.
Yes, I could eat more in the form of capsules. I could start sprinkling diet pills among the candy sprinkles on my ice cream. But, with so many colorful pills available, I'm not sure what flavor goes best with banana split. And what about the side effects? I don't mean the good kind like the extra side plate you have put next to you on your table at the all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet.
Yes, I could learn more at sideeffectsofdietpills.net. That's not to say that I don't think those pills are effective. I understand they do a good job of thinning your wallet. I'm just wondering if I might be able to contain my spread with something a little more economical. Like a little duct tape. In my case, maybe a little more than just "a little". You can fix anything with duct tape. Do you know that you can reinforce a paper plate to hold two roast chickens during an outdoor BBQ? Mmmmmmm... Excuse me, my middle-age spread is calling.
a little uncertainty.
For almost 100 years, scientist have been telling us layman (and women) that one of the certainties of our lives rest in the Heisenberg's uncertainty principle – the idea that we cannot observe speed of a particle without affecting its course, and we cannot observe the course of a particle without affecting its speed.
No matter how certain scientist are about of this principle, it certainly didn't prove itself to the five of us standing at a street corner today. We all watched as a woman, chatting merrily on her cell phone, drove her car towards our intersection. As we watched the course of her car barreling down the roadway, her speed never changed. As we made repeated notes of her speed, her path never veered the slightest ... until she suddenly came to a disastrous stop. Not because of Heisenberg and our observational powers, but because of simpler physics - that of another car already occupying the space in front of the glowing red traffic light.
Maybe that's why this uncertainty principle works so well for scientists: particles never travel while holding tiny cell phones to their subatomic ears. Obviously, cell phone companies won't sell phone services to this tiny particles.
Why? When was the last time you heard of the phone company sending anyone a small bill? I think we can be certain of that one.
No matter how certain scientist are about of this principle, it certainly didn't prove itself to the five of us standing at a street corner today. We all watched as a woman, chatting merrily on her cell phone, drove her car towards our intersection. As we watched the course of her car barreling down the roadway, her speed never changed. As we made repeated notes of her speed, her path never veered the slightest ... until she suddenly came to a disastrous stop. Not because of Heisenberg and our observational powers, but because of simpler physics - that of another car already occupying the space in front of the glowing red traffic light.
Maybe that's why this uncertainty principle works so well for scientists: particles never travel while holding tiny cell phones to their subatomic ears. Obviously, cell phone companies won't sell phone services to this tiny particles.
Why? When was the last time you heard of the phone company sending anyone a small bill? I think we can be certain of that one.
Monday, March 26, 2012
mixin' it up
In the beginning, the Moog synthesizer met the 8-track recording system, and thus began the days of innovative audio mixing with very expensive electronic equipment. It was good and there was much rejoicing. Nay, it was great!
Of course, only a privileged few, with the limitless financial backing of their recording companies, could create the innovative musical style that still influences our tunes today.
Things are much easier now. Almost 50 years later, all you need is a few $20 in the bank and a half-baked desire to become a recording artist. The power to mix sounds with say, one of those Stanton dj mixers has never been more tempting.
Yet, with this great power comes great responsibility, as that great philosopher, Spiderman, once said. Really great. Human history is full of great examples of disastrous mixing. Over 100 years ago, someone mixed the Blue and the Gray and started a Civil War. Certainly not great. The extremely talented Richard Pryor (who is beyond great) told of the time he mixed pasteurize milk with low-fat milk, added a cookie and accidentally set himself on fire. (And ended up with a great, though painful, routine.)
So how do we stop anyone from easily mixing the unnatural with the unholy and creating musically grating terror? For example, what is there to stop someone from mixing the passionate sounds of Spanish music with a horn section of a German polka band? The next thing you know, Mexican restaurants will be filled with the sounds of Banda.
Okay, perhaps we're too late on that. But hopefully someone will think twice before mixing, say, rap with bluegrass music. Wouldn't the world sound a little better without having to worry about ... oh, square dance music. Okay, sorry, another bad example.
All I'm pointing out is that we have to be on guard against corrupting the electronic harmonies started 50 years ago. If we let some mixed-up kid get his or her hands on a cheap mixer, who knows what disasters will be unleashed on the world! The next thing you know we'll have peanut butter in our chocolate, confusion over bird calls and short computer messages, and hours of reality TV shows with rich, untalented people.
Don't mind me. I'm just trying to mix it up. Great.
Of course, only a privileged few, with the limitless financial backing of their recording companies, could create the innovative musical style that still influences our tunes today.
Things are much easier now. Almost 50 years later, all you need is a few $20 in the bank and a half-baked desire to become a recording artist. The power to mix sounds with say, one of those Stanton dj mixers has never been more tempting.
Yet, with this great power comes great responsibility, as that great philosopher, Spiderman, once said. Really great. Human history is full of great examples of disastrous mixing. Over 100 years ago, someone mixed the Blue and the Gray and started a Civil War. Certainly not great. The extremely talented Richard Pryor (who is beyond great) told of the time he mixed pasteurize milk with low-fat milk, added a cookie and accidentally set himself on fire. (And ended up with a great, though painful, routine.)
So how do we stop anyone from easily mixing the unnatural with the unholy and creating musically grating terror? For example, what is there to stop someone from mixing the passionate sounds of Spanish music with a horn section of a German polka band? The next thing you know, Mexican restaurants will be filled with the sounds of Banda.
Okay, perhaps we're too late on that. But hopefully someone will think twice before mixing, say, rap with bluegrass music. Wouldn't the world sound a little better without having to worry about ... oh, square dance music. Okay, sorry, another bad example.
All I'm pointing out is that we have to be on guard against corrupting the electronic harmonies started 50 years ago. If we let some mixed-up kid get his or her hands on a cheap mixer, who knows what disasters will be unleashed on the world! The next thing you know we'll have peanut butter in our chocolate, confusion over bird calls and short computer messages, and hours of reality TV shows with rich, untalented people.
Don't mind me. I'm just trying to mix it up. Great.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
It took 2 weeks.
Well, it happened. The big boss called me into his office - I was busted. And not the good kind of bust that involves a bra (though you could argue that I was still dealing with a boob). You would think that as a 50 year old, I would no longer have to worry about "getting in trouble", especially with authority figures. You don't know me very well, do you?
First of all, let me state for the record: I am NOT a troublemaker. A prankster, maybe. A pain of conscience to those in charge who should know better, perhaps. But I don't intentionally act as that troublesome jerk we all loathe - such as our plant manager who set the events of this post in motion.
The plant manager is not a bad fellow. He just has the car salesman's gift of being very believable while lying up a storm. Perhaps this is why upper management never notices how productive always increases when he's on vacation. As a manager, his skill involves unprovoked yelling at the female workers until they cry. Since many of these women live in fear of losing their jobs, he has gotten away with incredible episodes of sexually harassment over the years. What's not to like about the guy?
In any case, three weeks ago the powers-on-high decreed that all salary folk will henceforth swap their ID card upon entering and upon exiting the plant. "It is for your safety and we will not track this activity!", said the CFO to our smiling, salaried faces at a meeting.
Hourly people don't have to worry about this new requirement. Apparently, safety isn't a factor and hourly people are expendable. At the wages they have to settle for, I'm not surprised.
Our CFO didn't exactly lie since "they" aren't tracking anything. The plant manager, on the hand, needed something else to add to his daily activities of harassing and spirit-crushing. When he learned that he had access to the security logs, we discovered that he would spending hours tracking everyone's comings and goings and then tattle to his bosses. "So-and-so arrived 2 minutes late," he would report while failing to mention that so-and-so put in 10 salaried hours that day.
So after enough of these misleading reports to upper management, a few of us salaried peons started swapping in with our id card and then immediately swapped out as we entered the building. No one is tracking us right? Why would the CFO lie?
The joke went on for 2 weeks. The plant manager would make derisive comments whenever he saw us. Then I got called to the office of our VP of operation. "You need to swap in and out properly," he said kindly. "We just would to make sure that we know when you are safely in the building."
So now we are all good and safe little worker bees. But the joking isn't over just yet. Next comes ...
First of all, let me state for the record: I am NOT a troublemaker. A prankster, maybe. A pain of conscience to those in charge who should know better, perhaps. But I don't intentionally act as that troublesome jerk we all loathe - such as our plant manager who set the events of this post in motion.
The plant manager is not a bad fellow. He just has the car salesman's gift of being very believable while lying up a storm. Perhaps this is why upper management never notices how productive always increases when he's on vacation. As a manager, his skill involves unprovoked yelling at the female workers until they cry. Since many of these women live in fear of losing their jobs, he has gotten away with incredible episodes of sexually harassment over the years. What's not to like about the guy?
In any case, three weeks ago the powers-on-high decreed that all salary folk will henceforth swap their ID card upon entering and upon exiting the plant. "It is for your safety and we will not track this activity!", said the CFO to our smiling, salaried faces at a meeting.
Hourly people don't have to worry about this new requirement. Apparently, safety isn't a factor and hourly people are expendable. At the wages they have to settle for, I'm not surprised.
Our CFO didn't exactly lie since "they" aren't tracking anything. The plant manager, on the hand, needed something else to add to his daily activities of harassing and spirit-crushing. When he learned that he had access to the security logs, we discovered that he would spending hours tracking everyone's comings and goings and then tattle to his bosses. "So-and-so arrived 2 minutes late," he would report while failing to mention that so-and-so put in 10 salaried hours that day.
So after enough of these misleading reports to upper management, a few of us salaried peons started swapping in with our id card and then immediately swapped out as we entered the building. No one is tracking us right? Why would the CFO lie?
The joke went on for 2 weeks. The plant manager would make derisive comments whenever he saw us. Then I got called to the office of our VP of operation. "You need to swap in and out properly," he said kindly. "We just would to make sure that we know when you are safely in the building."
So now we are all good and safe little worker bees. But the joking isn't over just yet. Next comes ...
Friday, March 23, 2012
Out with the old, In with the new
The place I work at resides in a county run by a good-old-boy network of businesses and politicians. This means no Olive Garden restaurant because Mary Lou's roach infested eatery and Bubba's greasy-spoon diner would go out of business. This means no Lowe's because Fred's Hardware would have to offer more of what people want. Since Mary Lou, Bubba, Fred, and all of their kins have ties into the political system, well, it's political suicide to disappoint family. So, this large population of everyone else who's isn't kin have to travel to neighboring counties to eat better and buy what they need.
But all of this is about to change. In January, one of the old-guard politicians died and a younger upstart took his place. Yesterday, several of my fellow workers who live in the county did nothing but talk about the exciting news: There would be several walmart jobs available as a Superstore opened in the county by fall of this year.
Hopefully, this means a very welcomed and much needed change in an area of high unemployment and high taxes. All it took was a slight change in the political machinery and those two magic words "election year".
But all of this is about to change. In January, one of the old-guard politicians died and a younger upstart took his place. Yesterday, several of my fellow workers who live in the county did nothing but talk about the exciting news: There would be several walmart jobs available as a Superstore opened in the county by fall of this year.
Hopefully, this means a very welcomed and much needed change in an area of high unemployment and high taxes. All it took was a slight change in the political machinery and those two magic words "election year".
Things You'll Never Hear
It was unbelievable! The baseball game was in full swing; bottom of the ninth inning with two outs, a tied score, and bases loaded - as were some of the players and most of the fans.
On the mound stood the confident pitcher: full-time star, part-time magician, and anxious to end this game so he could get on with the relief pitcher – the cold one full of beer. So he decided on a devious plan. With two strikes on the batter, the pitcher unexpectedly fumbled the return throw from the catcher. The way our heroic pitcher frantically hunted around the mound, you thought that the ball had disappeared.
The nervous runner on third took advantage of this mishap and made his mad dash home. At first, he was confused by the yelling fans and the frantic waves from the line coach. He then realized his mistake and began running from first towards home; then, cursing to himself, he changed his course again and headed towards home plate.
Just as our intrepid runner came within two game-winning strides away from home plate, one of those sturdy amsec safes dropped from overhead – well within the playing area of the field – and struck the ground directly between the runner and his intended goal. As the impact sprung the safe door opened, the missing baseball popped out, striking the runner in the face and knocking him unconscious. The umpire screamed, "Safe! You're out!"
This cleared the benches of both teams. Within minutes, the fans were thrilled as several boxing matches began on the field. Unexpectedly, these fights ended as sporadic hockey games broke out. Soon, members of the ground crew tried to regain baseball dignity by chasing the hockey players off the field with yells of "Puck off! Puck off!"
At this point, I realized I need to do a better job of watching what I eat before I go to bed.
On the mound stood the confident pitcher: full-time star, part-time magician, and anxious to end this game so he could get on with the relief pitcher – the cold one full of beer. So he decided on a devious plan. With two strikes on the batter, the pitcher unexpectedly fumbled the return throw from the catcher. The way our heroic pitcher frantically hunted around the mound, you thought that the ball had disappeared.
The nervous runner on third took advantage of this mishap and made his mad dash home. At first, he was confused by the yelling fans and the frantic waves from the line coach. He then realized his mistake and began running from first towards home; then, cursing to himself, he changed his course again and headed towards home plate.
Just as our intrepid runner came within two game-winning strides away from home plate, one of those sturdy amsec safes dropped from overhead – well within the playing area of the field – and struck the ground directly between the runner and his intended goal. As the impact sprung the safe door opened, the missing baseball popped out, striking the runner in the face and knocking him unconscious. The umpire screamed, "Safe! You're out!"
This cleared the benches of both teams. Within minutes, the fans were thrilled as several boxing matches began on the field. Unexpectedly, these fights ended as sporadic hockey games broke out. Soon, members of the ground crew tried to regain baseball dignity by chasing the hockey players off the field with yells of "Puck off! Puck off!"
At this point, I realized I need to do a better job of watching what I eat before I go to bed.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Moo, y'all.
Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free? Not the best relationship advice to follow. Especially since I'm getting tired of being the cow. But maybe that's what I'm heifer.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
will and testament
On my top 10 list of this year's "have to be done or die trying" is the writing of my will (and hopefully done before the "die trying" part kicks in). So I've researching what I can and cannot do as my final hurrah. Good grief but the law is so picky!
Apparently, you can't just tattoo a note on your chest requesting that they toss your body in with the rest of the weekly garbage pickup. I also learned that several environmental laws and town decrees ban any type of Viking burial – including flaming arrows and a burning boat – in your backyard swimming pool. It saddens me to think we live in a time so controlled by anti-fun people: rule-makers who don't want you to celebrate the end of your life with a bang (at least, according to the anti-cannon ordinances).
As you can imagine, my research had me a little miffed, not only at the over-reaching laws, but at that class of people who craft our many maniacal mandates - lawyers. Well, I was miffed until my research turned up a website for raleigh nc lawyers.
As I read their noble, humanity-saving mission statements and bios, I got to thinking that perhaps I was a bit harsh on this most ancient of professions. It's not as though everyday justice is a simple clear-cut matter. You almost have to have a little sympathy for a group that has to use three words when one would suffice: "null AND void" instead of invalid, "cease AND desist" instead of stop, "have AND hold" instead of routine.
But then again, why would any group keep alive a thousand-year old habit, a tradition started by those wacky English and French as they worked on "breaking and entering" into each others' country? I know why. Billing at higher fees becomes "cut and dry" when you make your work "fit and proper" by sounding three times as difficult.
OK. Now I'm miffed again.
Apparently, you can't just tattoo a note on your chest requesting that they toss your body in with the rest of the weekly garbage pickup. I also learned that several environmental laws and town decrees ban any type of Viking burial – including flaming arrows and a burning boat – in your backyard swimming pool. It saddens me to think we live in a time so controlled by anti-fun people: rule-makers who don't want you to celebrate the end of your life with a bang (at least, according to the anti-cannon ordinances).
As you can imagine, my research had me a little miffed, not only at the over-reaching laws, but at that class of people who craft our many maniacal mandates - lawyers. Well, I was miffed until my research turned up a website for raleigh nc lawyers.
As I read their noble, humanity-saving mission statements and bios, I got to thinking that perhaps I was a bit harsh on this most ancient of professions. It's not as though everyday justice is a simple clear-cut matter. You almost have to have a little sympathy for a group that has to use three words when one would suffice: "null AND void" instead of invalid, "cease AND desist" instead of stop, "have AND hold" instead of routine.
But then again, why would any group keep alive a thousand-year old habit, a tradition started by those wacky English and French as they worked on "breaking and entering" into each others' country? I know why. Billing at higher fees becomes "cut and dry" when you make your work "fit and proper" by sounding three times as difficult.
OK. Now I'm miffed again.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
building procrastination one day at a time
Sometime during the years of marriage and kids and hobbies and endless preparations for to-do projects that remain undone, my little old empty house became my littler, older, overfull house. I tried selling and giving away as much of the accumulating clutter as I could, yet our possessions multiplied even faster. Somewhere we crossed the philosophical line of half-empty/half-full and began racing dangerously close to that quaint expression of "hoarder".
My mother used to say, "Out of sight, out of mind." As a child, I used to think how silly that expression was as I stumbled around in the dark, constantly proving how out-of-sight protrusions would become in-of-mind with my out-of-placed shin.
Of course, that's when I was a child. Now I'm an adult, and often out-of-my-mind. So I bought one of those metal buildings to put in my backyard and squirrel away our many goodies for another time.
Fortunately, I bought a do-it-yourself shed kit during one of the great sales. (In fact, if it wasn't for those wonderful sales, I probably wouldn't have my wonderful clutter. "Look! Canned yams, 20 for a $1! I know we don't eat yams. Still, what great deal!") Unfortunately, I bought the kit during the dead of winter when exposed body parts instantly freeze and the lure of outdoor work is in hibernation. But I'm not a quitter ... or a hoarder. I resolved to put my storage savior together when the warmer days of spring arrived.
An excellent idea ... had Spring arrived. But over the course of a few weeks in March of that year, we went from freezing cold to sweltering heat. Not that I'm trying to make excuses for leaving my shed unassembled. You know how balmy, hundred degree days make it impossible to do anything constructive outside without being naked and under a hose of cool water. And, being the dry, considerate neighbor that I am, I decided to wait for the comforting days of Fall.
There was much rejoicing when those cool, refreshing autumn days fell upon us. There was also billions of dead leaves to dispose of, storm windows to install, and football games that had to be watched least the wrong team win (which often happened anyway). Soon, the frigid winds of winter arrived and I had to wait upon the fair days of spring again.
I'm happy to report that this winter makes the ninth year that my metal shed has remained crated - an unbuilt building. Of course, my wonderful family has accumulated even more stuff. So tomorrow, I plan to go out and buy a second storage structure. At the very least, my purchase can keep my first unassembled kit from feeling lonely.
My mother used to say, "Out of sight, out of mind." As a child, I used to think how silly that expression was as I stumbled around in the dark, constantly proving how out-of-sight protrusions would become in-of-mind with my out-of-placed shin.
Of course, that's when I was a child. Now I'm an adult, and often out-of-my-mind. So I bought one of those metal buildings to put in my backyard and squirrel away our many goodies for another time.
Fortunately, I bought a do-it-yourself shed kit during one of the great sales. (In fact, if it wasn't for those wonderful sales, I probably wouldn't have my wonderful clutter. "Look! Canned yams, 20 for a $1! I know we don't eat yams. Still, what great deal!") Unfortunately, I bought the kit during the dead of winter when exposed body parts instantly freeze and the lure of outdoor work is in hibernation. But I'm not a quitter ... or a hoarder. I resolved to put my storage savior together when the warmer days of spring arrived.
An excellent idea ... had Spring arrived. But over the course of a few weeks in March of that year, we went from freezing cold to sweltering heat. Not that I'm trying to make excuses for leaving my shed unassembled. You know how balmy, hundred degree days make it impossible to do anything constructive outside without being naked and under a hose of cool water. And, being the dry, considerate neighbor that I am, I decided to wait for the comforting days of Fall.
There was much rejoicing when those cool, refreshing autumn days fell upon us. There was also billions of dead leaves to dispose of, storm windows to install, and football games that had to be watched least the wrong team win (which often happened anyway). Soon, the frigid winds of winter arrived and I had to wait upon the fair days of spring again.
I'm happy to report that this winter makes the ninth year that my metal shed has remained crated - an unbuilt building. Of course, my wonderful family has accumulated even more stuff. So tomorrow, I plan to go out and buy a second storage structure. At the very least, my purchase can keep my first unassembled kit from feeling lonely.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
bad life habits.
I took advantage of the beautiful spring weather and took my three-year-old nephew to the park today. We played on one ride, and he talked with a little girl playing in the sandbox; then, after just a few minutes of our arrival at the park, he fussed to go home.
I realize that he loves baseball and the season is about to begin. Still, I hope he learns that there is more to life than a swing and a miss ...
I realize that he loves baseball and the season is about to begin. Still, I hope he learns that there is more to life than a swing and a miss ...
who wants their end heated?
Near the end of October of last year, our sales team, always eager to pounce on a potential marketing opportunity, called an emergency meeting. Our VP of sales asked me if I could develop a miniature control switch that would operate heating elements inside of car seats. "No problem," I said. He said, "Great! We needed a working demo in time for an auto show next week so that we can start taking orders next month in time for winter sales."
By now, our VP should know that it takes a minimum of four months for the simplest of projects to make it through the gauntlet of design, validation, purchasing requirements, ISO-9000 certification demands, and into the first day of error-free production. Of course, if our sales team admitted to this knowledge, they couldn't blame all of us for their continually missed "zillions of dollars" of sales to upper management.
What is more amazing is that all of our sales employees are college graduates. Yet, with another occurrence of a seat heater sales opportunity, the knowledge has again eluded them that winter occurs twice a year on our planet of potential customers. If we don't make the December's deadline for people in the northern hemisphere, there are people in the southern hemisphere who will have cars and cold derrières in June.
I wonder if other cold-season businesses have this same issue with their sales team. Take for example, "CozyWinters.com electric blankets". Who doesn't need the warmth of heated bedding during the bone-chilling nights of winter.
Of course, that is an unfair example to compare with my company. Drivers may need a toasty tush in the midst of a freezing winter. However, if you are or have been married, you know that, even during the worst scorching nights of summer, an electric blanket is extremely vital to your woman's seemingly frostbitten extremities. Without such a heated covering, many a man has been suddenly wakened in frozen anguish to wonder how well a blow torch would operate under the covers of their marital bed.
In any case, as of last week, we finally presented a finished, extremely competitive product to our sales group. During our pre-production meeting, our VP of sales talked about how he greatly appreciated our long hours and sleepless night to rush this project towards production. Then he quietly mentioned that the sales requirements had changed. Could we scrap what we have done and have a new version ready to sell by next week?
The ensuing discussion would have heated many a rear-end. During the conversations, our VP of sales was often referred to as an especially flaming member of the human anatomy. You know, given the elevated temperatures, the red faces, the heated discussions, perhaps we are selling the wrong product. If we should find a market for people who would sit on a heated VP of sales ...
By now, our VP should know that it takes a minimum of four months for the simplest of projects to make it through the gauntlet of design, validation, purchasing requirements, ISO-9000 certification demands, and into the first day of error-free production. Of course, if our sales team admitted to this knowledge, they couldn't blame all of us for their continually missed "zillions of dollars" of sales to upper management.
What is more amazing is that all of our sales employees are college graduates. Yet, with another occurrence of a seat heater sales opportunity, the knowledge has again eluded them that winter occurs twice a year on our planet of potential customers. If we don't make the December's deadline for people in the northern hemisphere, there are people in the southern hemisphere who will have cars and cold derrières in June.
I wonder if other cold-season businesses have this same issue with their sales team. Take for example, "CozyWinters.com electric blankets". Who doesn't need the warmth of heated bedding during the bone-chilling nights of winter.
Of course, that is an unfair example to compare with my company. Drivers may need a toasty tush in the midst of a freezing winter. However, if you are or have been married, you know that, even during the worst scorching nights of summer, an electric blanket is extremely vital to your woman's seemingly frostbitten extremities. Without such a heated covering, many a man has been suddenly wakened in frozen anguish to wonder how well a blow torch would operate under the covers of their marital bed.
In any case, as of last week, we finally presented a finished, extremely competitive product to our sales group. During our pre-production meeting, our VP of sales talked about how he greatly appreciated our long hours and sleepless night to rush this project towards production. Then he quietly mentioned that the sales requirements had changed. Could we scrap what we have done and have a new version ready to sell by next week?
The ensuing discussion would have heated many a rear-end. During the conversations, our VP of sales was often referred to as an especially flaming member of the human anatomy. You know, given the elevated temperatures, the red faces, the heated discussions, perhaps we are selling the wrong product. If we should find a market for people who would sit on a heated VP of sales ...
Friday, March 16, 2012
writing on purpose.
OK. For some silly reason, I thought I should develop my writing skills, then self-publish a few books on Amazon and work myself into a retiring life of ease. So, for the past few months, I focused on various highly-recommended books on writing, forced myself into long nights of study, and committed myself to capturing whatever silly thought crossed my mind. (Don't worry, most of these practice pieces are well hidden in draft format. You will never see them on this blog. Maybe.)
Yes, I know what you're thinking. Just what we need during the year of the apocalypse, more junk to add to the ever growing mountain of books from writers who think you need to be privy to their every miniscule thought.
Of course, you forget that this is a marketing game. I only have to tickle the fancy of anyone who has nothing better to do than to read my silliness. Out of 7 billion people, I only need a dollar a year from less than 50,000 readers to live a comfortable life. People have become millionaires with more trivial products - pet rock, new coke, Lady Gaga.
I feel bad for trivializing this fact, but I don't have long to live. So I only need to act like an endearing fool for a short while. The staying power of the Iliad and the Odyssey have nothing to worry about. It's just me and my brief flicker of inane thoughts, and impossible hopes of grandeur. Buy for now!
Yes, I know what you're thinking. Just what we need during the year of the apocalypse, more junk to add to the ever growing mountain of books from writers who think you need to be privy to their every miniscule thought.
Of course, you forget that this is a marketing game. I only have to tickle the fancy of anyone who has nothing better to do than to read my silliness. Out of 7 billion people, I only need a dollar a year from less than 50,000 readers to live a comfortable life. People have become millionaires with more trivial products - pet rock, new coke, Lady Gaga.
I feel bad for trivializing this fact, but I don't have long to live. So I only need to act like an endearing fool for a short while. The staying power of the Iliad and the Odyssey have nothing to worry about. It's just me and my brief flicker of inane thoughts, and impossible hopes of grandeur. Buy for now!
Things are going swimmingly
Congratulations! In three days, we will celebrate the beginning of winter! Oops, my mistake … the beginning of spring! Normally, we have a seasonal period of intense cold that kills mosquitoes, wood roaches, and other creepy crawlies who would make your upcoming bright summer days regrettable. However, no Arctic-type weather this season it seems.
Somehow, I missed our wintery interval. The last thing I remembered was a flurry of dead leaves, a frosty morning or two, and one 10° day that would make those annoying summertime bugs say, "Ooh, that's a might chilly! Hope it doesn’t last too long and kill me!" The next thing I know - here we are, basking in 80° days with trees a-bloomin' and pollen a-ttackin'.
The good thing about this lack of winter has been the impact on one of our more snobby neighbors. Not only do they have a large pool, but they have a pool heater so they can show off their status by comfortably swimming during those freezing days of January and February. "Those freezing days" being the key phrase.
I admit it. Nothing can thrill the human spirit more than watching some fool make that invigorating jump from warm, soothing waters of a heated pool into the chilly airs of winter. The Swedes made this pastime famous with their X-rated romps from boiling saunas into shrinkage-inducing snows. So normally, our neighborhood would secretly covet that envious fog as it rolled off the artificially warmed waters of our evil neighbor’s pool.
This year, however, the obscenely mild wintertime cooled our neighborly jealousy. And this is a good thing. The more petty among us were about to sabotage a couple of our smug neighbor's pentair pool heater parts and blame it on the rage of mother nature and karma for not having pool parties for us all.
I don't know what summer will bring, but I don't think our saboteurs will be forgiving. I have a feeling that, during August, someone's pool water will mysteriously approach the boiling point. Might be due to that global warming thing, but who can say for certain.
Somehow, I missed our wintery interval. The last thing I remembered was a flurry of dead leaves, a frosty morning or two, and one 10° day that would make those annoying summertime bugs say, "Ooh, that's a might chilly! Hope it doesn’t last too long and kill me!" The next thing I know - here we are, basking in 80° days with trees a-bloomin' and pollen a-ttackin'.
The good thing about this lack of winter has been the impact on one of our more snobby neighbors. Not only do they have a large pool, but they have a pool heater so they can show off their status by comfortably swimming during those freezing days of January and February. "Those freezing days" being the key phrase.
I admit it. Nothing can thrill the human spirit more than watching some fool make that invigorating jump from warm, soothing waters of a heated pool into the chilly airs of winter. The Swedes made this pastime famous with their X-rated romps from boiling saunas into shrinkage-inducing snows. So normally, our neighborhood would secretly covet that envious fog as it rolled off the artificially warmed waters of our evil neighbor’s pool.
This year, however, the obscenely mild wintertime cooled our neighborly jealousy. And this is a good thing. The more petty among us were about to sabotage a couple of our smug neighbor's pentair pool heater parts and blame it on the rage of mother nature and karma for not having pool parties for us all.
I don't know what summer will bring, but I don't think our saboteurs will be forgiving. I have a feeling that, during August, someone's pool water will mysteriously approach the boiling point. Might be due to that global warming thing, but who can say for certain.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Yet another "national" object day.
Today, I celebrated National Pie day by baking an apple pie with 3.141569 apples in it. I'm just making sure I've covered all my bases.
Are You LinkedIn?
If you don't know what LinkedIn is, don't worry. It's another social media like Facebook, only for business people and workers. So there is less drama and incriminating photos (but I make no guarantees). It is a great tool to look for a job while hiding for your boss who are also using LinkedIn to abandon the ship of their "great" business venture.
For the heck of it, I picked a random company to compare to the company I work for.
For example, take sterkly on Linkedin. Sterkly is an Internet company that deals with affiliate marketing – kind of like product placement in a movie except that you have to click on the object on the webpage instead of throwing popcorn at it as it taunts you from the silver screen.
The workplace I work for is in the automotive manufacturing industry. Definitely not as trendy as affiliate marketing on social media. In fact, I didn't even know our company had a presence on LinkedIn until I started researching this post.
Sterkly makes their money through CPA – cost per action. Basically, Sterkly gets a cut from their clients' business only if someone clicks on a product link, or when someone downloads software, or if someone completes a registration through a link that Sterkly has on a particular affiliated web page.
My company and its investors also make money through "cost per action" ... as long as that action involves layoffs, workforce enhancements (firings), and the righteous business decisions by overzealous bean counters.
Based on Mr. Nicholson's graph, Sterkly's business model places well ahead of the company I work for. The good thing about LinkedIn is that you can track when companies are hiring. So Sterkly is at the top of my list ... for some odd reason.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
taxes and dst.
Daylight "savings" time is kind of like income tax. Near the beginning of the year, the government takes an hour from all of us. Then, several months later, our efficient bureaucrats graciously give those confiscated hours back to us. And, just as inflation diminishes the value of our refunded tax dollar, so our returned hour is now worth less because we are older and time is moving faster.
Do you know what they do with those extorted millions of hours? I don't. Our trusty public servants certainly aren't spending that time in areas where they need to speed up operations, like the DMV or the post office. I don't know where the savings is, but I'm pretty sure we're not the recipients.
Do you know what they do with those extorted millions of hours? I don't. Our trusty public servants certainly aren't spending that time in areas where they need to speed up operations, like the DMV or the post office. I don't know where the savings is, but I'm pretty sure we're not the recipients.
There are tests, then there are TESTS
Everyone needs a hobby, and lately it seems that most of my friends and family have picked college. Not me. If I want to take on more aggravation and useless debt, I can always get married again.
This week, all of these college students returned home for their spring break. Have they regaled me with wondrous tales about all the exciting knowledge that they’re accumulating? No! All I hear about is how bad the classes are and how tough the testing has been for them – proof that money doesn't buy happiness. Well, college money at least.
They whine about all the studying they had to do (or didn't do), and about the terrible results for all their long hours and torturous efforts. Of course, it could be worse. Instead of college course testing, it could have been std testing.
With college exams, you want to tell the world how well you did. With STD tests, you are forced to tell how well you did – especially to those you "studied with".
With college exams, the preparation is tedious and mind numbing. With STD tests, there isn't a whole lot of thought that goes into preparation – which is part of the problem.
With college exams, there is a lot of anxiety about failing. With STD tests, there is a lot of anxiety about not failing.
Hopefully, all my friends and family will recover this week from their college ordeals. And, hopefully, they won't do anything foolish enough this week to make their course exams seem like a easy walk in the park.
This week, all of these college students returned home for their spring break. Have they regaled me with wondrous tales about all the exciting knowledge that they’re accumulating? No! All I hear about is how bad the classes are and how tough the testing has been for them – proof that money doesn't buy happiness. Well, college money at least.
They whine about all the studying they had to do (or didn't do), and about the terrible results for all their long hours and torturous efforts. Of course, it could be worse. Instead of college course testing, it could have been std testing.
With college exams, you want to tell the world how well you did. With STD tests, you are forced to tell how well you did – especially to those you "studied with".
With college exams, the preparation is tedious and mind numbing. With STD tests, there isn't a whole lot of thought that goes into preparation – which is part of the problem.
With college exams, there is a lot of anxiety about failing. With STD tests, there is a lot of anxiety about not failing.
Hopefully, all my friends and family will recover this week from their college ordeals. And, hopefully, they won't do anything foolish enough this week to make their course exams seem like a easy walk in the park.
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