Are You a Meese or a Man?

Okay, so I just spent the last three hours in computer hell. Yep, on my first official day of blissful unemployment, I nearly saw my life flash before my eyes.

It all start a few days ago, when I noticed my mouse was acting weird, not responding. I knew I had to make the dreaded trip to Radio Shack and buy a replacement. Of course, the model I’d had was no longer in production so I had to buy the new and improved version. The new and improved always makes me a bit leery. I guess I’m just a little set in my ways but frankly, I don’t understand the obsession to build the better mousetrap – or mouse as the case may be. My view is, if it’s not broken and it works, why improve it? And who gets to decide if it really is in fact, improved? I digress.

So, I buy the new mouse and the new and improved part starting bugging me. It has this thing called auto scroll which means the wheel is utterly useless and apparently is just there for show. You have to click the scroll button and this lameass icon pops up and then you move the mouse up and down to get the scroll thing happening. Me no likey.

So, I got annoyed with it and continued to get annoyed with it, so I whipped the cheapo mouse I bought for the laptop and stuck that baby in. It worked okay, but it’s a bit on the small side. Anyway, blame it on the two glasses of wine I had tonight but I really started getting steamed with logitech and their new and improved and I decided to uninstall the software for the logitech mouse, since I wasn’t using a logitech mouse, I was using a cheapie no name mouse, and what’s the diff?

And off I went, wildly uninstalling useless software for a useless mouse. I had to restart the computer as we all know, in order to change the settings. Which I did.

I plugged in el cheapo and then boom, no mouse action. I mean, NO mouse action. I panicked – so much so that I asked Roomie for his assistance (forget the fact that he’d had way more than my two glasses of wine) and we spent hours trying this and that, constantly unplugging and replugging, rebooting and generally tearing out our already thinning hair. Not a pretty site. Not pretty at all. In fact, I started seeing odd shapes and funny colors. I heard voices sneering at me and frankly, I didn’t feel at all well.

Finally, Roomie wandered back to the livingroom to his movie and Jack Daniels and I stayed at the computer. My life is on this damned thing – at least that which means anything (read manuscripts, stories, poetry, blog posts, yikes!) so I was pretty invested in solving the problem. I even contemplated calling the IT from the doc’s office and paying him his bagillion bucks an hour to fix it if it was really too much of mess.

So, I realized that the problem really began when I uninstalled the dumbass software, so through painstaking hit and miss, using keyboard shortcuts and the tab button, I finally managed to reinstall the darn stuff.

But when I rebooted, I still had the el cheapo plugged in and it wouldn’t work. My fingernails were starting to look awfully tasty and frankly, I had very little hair left to pull out. So, just for the hell of it, I plugged in the damned logitech and rebooted.

Eureka! We have meeses once again. I guess I learned my lesson – You can’t fight progress and quit fricking uninstalling shit. Sometimes it matters.

Apologies…

Hey Kids,

Look, I just wanted to say how much I appreciate all your visits and comments. You can’t know how much it brightens my day to see y’all here. And I know I’ve been a miserable visitor myself. No excuses – I’m just scum.

I gave notice at my soul-sucking-mind-numbing-energy-consuming job and a week from Friday is my last day. Hooray! Consequently, I am trying to get as much wrapped up as possible. Consequently, I have no brains left when I get home.

I will probably just not post for a few days. I will try to get by your places and read and comment – I really will – but it may be a few days. It may actually be after I’m done with the job. If we’re being honest here – that’s more likely.

I will make up for my hideous slackeristic behavior – very soon. I promise.

I plan to take a few weeks off and just write and blog and recharge after the job is over. So, I should have ample time to catch up.

And really, thanks for all your support and sympathy and good wishes through this ridiculous journey of the last few months. I have learned a few things – which I may talk about later. But not now.

I love you guys. I really do.

Annie (aka Writer Chick)

Creative Genius

 

(Time for a little levity. HT to Ger for this one. WC) 

A man who just died is delivered to a local mortuary wearing an
expensive, expertly tailored black suit.

The Blonde mortician asks the deceased’s wife how she would
like the body dressed. She points out that the man does look good in the
black suit he is already wearing.

The widow, however, says that she always thought her husband
looked his best in blue, and that she wants him in a blue suit. She
gives the Blonde mortician a blank check and says, “I don’t care
what it costs, but please have my husband in a blue suit for the
viewing.”

The woman returns the next day for the wake. To her delight, she
finds her husband dressed in a gorgeous blue suit with a subtle
chalk stripe; the suit fits him perfectly.

She says to the mortician, “Whatever this cost, I’m very
satisfied.  You did an excellent job and I’m very grateful. How much did
you spend?” To her astonishment, the blonde mortician presents
her with the blank check.

“There’s no charge,” she says.

“No, really, I must compensate you for the cost of that
exquisite blue suit!” she says.

“Honestly, ma’am,” the blonde says, “it cost nothing. You see, a
deceased gentleman of about your husband’s size was brought in
shortly after you left yesterday, and he was wearing an
attractive blue suit. I asked his wife if she minded him going to his
grave wearing a black suit instead, and she said it made no
difference as long as he looked nice.”

“So I just switched the heads.”

Idious Maximus

We’ve all encountered idiots during our daily lives, like the fellow who makes a left hand turn from the right lane – the bicyclist who runs a stop sign then expects cars to follow behind him as he travails the center of the lane going 12 m.p.h., the woman who wants to know if Micky D’s uses all organic products in their foods, etc. But sometimes, we encounter the special idiot. The one whose actions are so beyond the pale our jaws hit the floor and keep on going. A friend me a list of just that thing:

IDIOT SIGHTING #1 : Hubby and I had to have the garage door repaired. The Sears repairman told us that one of our problems was that we did not have a “large” enough motor on the opener. I thought for a minute, and said that we had the largest one Sears made at that time, a 1/2 horsepower. He shook his head and said, “Lady, you need a 1/4 horsepower.” I responded that 1/2 was larger than 1/4. He said, “NO, it’s not. Four is larger than two.”
We haven’t used Sears repair since.
________________________________________
IDIOT SIGHTING #2 : I live in a semi rural area. We recently had a new neighbor call the local township administrative office to request the removal of the Deer Crossing sign on our road. The reason: “Too many
deer are being hit by cars out here! I don’t think this is a good place for them to be crossing anymore.”
From Kingman , KS
________________________________________
IDIOTS IN FOOD SERVICE #3 : My daughter went to a local Taco Bell and ordered a taco. She asked the person behind the counter for “minimal lettuce.” He said he was sorry, but they only had iceberg. He was a Chef?
Yep… From Kansas City!
________________________________________
IDIOT SIGHTING! #4 : I was at the airport, checking in at the gate when an airport employee asked, “Has anyone put anything in your baggage without your knowledge?” To which I replied, “If it was without my knowledge, how would I know?” He smiled knowingly and nodded, “That’s why we ask.”
Happened in Birmingham, Alabama
________________________________________
IDIOT SIGHTING #5 : The stoplight on the corner buzzes when its safe to cross the street. I was crossing with an intellectually challenged coworker of mine. She asked if I knew what the buzzer was for. I explained that it signals blind people when the light is red. Appalled, she responded, “What on earth are blind people doing driving?!”
She was a probation officer in Wichita , KS
________________________________________
IDIOT SIGHTING #6 : At a good-bye luncheon for an old and dear coworker:
She was leaving the company due to “downsizing.” Our manager commented cheerfully, “This is fun. We should do this more often.” Not another word was spoken. We all just looked at each other with that deer-in-the-headlights stare.

This was a group at Texas Instruments.
___________________________________________
IDIOT SIGHTING #7 : I work with an individual who plugged her power strip back into itself, and for the sake of her own life, couldn’t understand why her system would not turn on. A deputy with the Dallas County Sheriffs office no less.
____________________________________________
IDIOT SIGHTING #8 : When my husband and I arrived at an automobile dealership to pick up our car, we were told the keys had been locked in it. We went to the service department and found a mechanic working feverishly to unlock the driver’s side door. As I watched from the passenger side, I instinctively tried the door handle and discovered that it was unlocked. “Hey,” I announced to the technician, “Its open!” His reply, “I know – I already got that side.”
This was at the Ford dealership in Canton, Mississippi !
______________________________________________________________________

How’s about you? What is the most idiotic thing you’ve seen lately?

WC

The Wheels on the Bus go Round & Round…

Way back when – when Zelda and I were in the infancy of our friendship – we were so full of shit…ah…er…plans. We just knew we would conquer the world with our flash and sparkle.

Free spirits that we were, we loathed the 9 to 5 thing because it squelched our bon vivant souls – and we somehow found ourselves gainfully unemployed at the same time. This of course was a recipe for disaster, but we didn’t know it yet.

Rather than update our resumes and hitting the job market we thought, “Hey, we’ve got a barn, let’s do a show.” Well not a show exactly but we did stumble on the brilliant idea of becoming partners and doing some freelance business consulting.

While we were working on putting that together, Zelda happily rushed in one day and announced she found us some work. Since I was sick of eating peanut butter and jelly samiches, I too was delighted.

“Buff a bus?” I narrowed my eyes. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Piece of cake,”Zelda assured me. “I’ve got all the equipment and me and Skippy did it for months last year. Good money too.”

I didn’t really believe her but eating and paying the rent were high on my list, so I was game.

At the crack of dawn, Zelda picked me up in her old beater and we took off for parts unknown to me. Not a great neighborhood – the kind that make women like me think she should stay in the car and keep driving. But she pulled up to a warehousy looking place and said, “Wait here.” Like I was going to jump out and start flirting with the scary looking characters loitering on the street corner? No. I didn’t move. In fact, I would have been happy to stay there until it was time to go home. But she came back, pulled the car into a parking space and we were ‘there.’

All manner of jugs, gadgets, power tools and rags were pulled from the trunk and there we were, two small women against one big, dirty city bus. We were outnumbered to be sure and I was scared already. Gulp.

I’m not sure, but I think the guys in the warehouse were snickering the moment we entered, dragging our equipment behind us. Especially me, since I just really can’t pull off the macho thing with any authority. And so we began.

To be honest, much of what we did is a blur. I only remember hour after hour passing with the appearance of the bus improving – but my appearance going steadily downhill. Not to mention the fact that we were hungry and had no money to buy lunch. Water does not fill an empty stomach no matter what anyone tells you.

Finally at about 6:30 pm, we got to the actual buffing part. Zelda hands me a buffer, which was equal to half my body weight and asks, “You want the to do the roof or the sides?”

What I really wanted to say is “I want to go home.” What I actually said was, “The roof.”

For those of you who’ve never traveled to the roof of a city bus, you may not realize it is the size of a small island. suddenly the buffer didn’t seem nearly big enough. But man, did it have a motor with real get up and go! In fact, in my first attempt, it almost propelled me off the fricking roof. No, that wouldn’t do. Can’t stand up and buff. Let me try kneeling, while grasping it with both hands. Off I skidded to the edge of the roof, switching off the evil buffer in the nick of time. Okay, so the only position I could buff this baby in was lying flat on my stomach while trying to keep my face away from the buffer – no easy task.

All I remember after that was watching my arms flying out from under my body in spastic circular motions. All I really seemed to be doing is slow the buffer down as it dragged me to and fro across the roof of the bus. Up one side and down the other.

I shouldn’t complain because Zelda had the tougher job, having to hold her buffer upright while it threw her spine out of alignment , climbing up and down ladders to get to the sides and front of the evil metal monster that refused to shine. But I was so preoccupied with what I believed to be the last day of my life, that I simply didn’t have the energy to empathize.

By 10:30 pm, we were all in. We had stopped caring hours ago about the sparkle of the bus and just wanted our damned money and to go home. Naturally, the guy paid us with a check and so there was no possibility of getting food on the way home, the seven dollars we had between us had to go into the gas tank – so we gritted our teeth and scolded our stomachs and headed out.

By 11:30 pm we arrived at my house – filthy, chattering teeth, cold to the bone and starved. I took a quick shower then ordered Zelda into the bathroom while I scrounged for dinner in the kitchen.

You must understand that trying to cook when your arms have spasmed to total muscle failure is quite the trick and limits your choices of menu. So, spaghetti it was – sauce? Hardly. I couldn’t chop veggies with my teeth, now could I? I dressed the pasta with a few tablespoons of tomato paste and salt and pepper – we weren’t really going to so much taste the food as just fill up our stomachs anyway, so who cared? Our beverage of choice was water and maybe I made coffee but it was probably without cream or sugar and was on par with the fine spaghetti I’d made.

The next day, as we shuffled around like 90 year old artrhitic men – we managed to take the check to the bank and cash it. After all was said and done, we’d each made $4.84 an hour on our first freelance business venture. Oh yeah, we had definitely hit the bigtime!

To this day, I can’t look at a buffer without emitting a tortured kitten groan. I say, leave it dirty.

To All the Telemarketers…

 (I’m pretty sure this ain’t what Willie & Julio had in mind. Ooops)

To all the telemarketers I’ve loved before
Who speed-dialed in and tricked the poor
I loathe they came along
I dedicate this song
To all the telemarketers I’ve loved before

To all the morons who once obsessed
And endeavored to harrass the best
For helping me to blow
I owe a lot, I know
To all the telemarketers I’ve loved before

The auto-dialers are always going
And every time I try to dodge or sway
The auto-dialers continue flowing
And they just blow me away

To all the telemarketers who’ve tried my life
Please go and bother someone else’s wife
I’ll never go along
I dedicate this song
To all the telemarketers I’ve loved before

To all the phone jerks who’ve taunted me
Who filled my nights with agony
They have no fucking heart
They’ll always be a part
Of all the telemarketers I’ve loved before

The auto-dialers are always going
And every time I try to stray
The dialers keep on blowing
And they just ruin my day

(come on, everybody, join in!)

To all the telemarketers we’ve loved before
Who rung us up a thousand times or more
We loathe they came along
We dedicate this song
To all the telemarketers we’ve loved before

Who suck wet mops and should lick the floor
Just get the fuck along
We dedicate this song
To all the telemarketers we’ve loved before.

tada!

10 Things to do With a Dead Spouse

 

Okay, so last week I did a post about posts I never did. Still with me? Good. Well, I did a little re-thinking and with a little encouragement decided to actually take up one of the topics. Now, contrary to popular opinion, I did indeed, once have a spouse. So I know of what I speak. Obviously it didn’t work out – no chemistry. None of that stuff that keeps you with a person despite all the many things that drive you nuts about them and prevents you from killing them.

I bring this up only because in order to know what one can do with a dead spouse, logic dictates one would have had to have had a live spouse, once…right?

Here are my ten suggestions of what to do with a dead spouse:

1. Fertilizer: This is pretty obvious – once you have the dead spouse there is always the issue of smell. Hence the whole concept of organic gardening comes into play. It gives a new meaning to the phrase, ‘I love you so much I could eat you with a spoon,’ doesn’t it? Tip: Mix 50/50 with steer manure which helps to mask the sweet smell and has plenty of nitrogen for good green growth.

2. Coat Rack: I don’t know about you, but I’m short on closet space. However, I do have an empty corner near the door. Tip: Position arms before the set in of rigor mortis, then wrap in gauze dipped in embalming fluid to discourage insect infestation. Alternate tip: Research taxidermy before endeavoring to do this project.

3. Unique Christmas Tree: Nothing warms the heart more that spending the holidays with loved ones. Especially when they are decked out in sparkly garland and plastic santas. Tip: Spray paint dead spouse with either silver or gold – it enhances the shine & sparkle, especially if you have a roaring fire going.

4. One-of-a-kind Coffee Table: Have your dearly departed hermetically sealed in a pine box with glass top. You can paint the box or use danish oil to seal in a natural finish. It is a non-stop conversation piece and because of it’s size can comfortably facilitate a dinner party of eight. Tip: Have body clothed before installation or the conversation will get out of hand.

5. Fed-Ex Him Back to His Mother: Nothing makes a mother happier than to learn that the tramp her son married no longer wants him. Plus, moms don’t mind dusting or hand feeding and have an endless supply of air freshners. Tip: Check with Fed-Ex for custom sized boxes – may require a special releases and waiver form.

6. Soylent Green: Don’t know what I’m talking about? Rent the movie.

7. Cat Scratcher: Why have your pampered feline scratch up your furniture when you have a perfectly good dead spouse for them to use. Tip: Using this option before going onto option #1 could be a winning combo.

8. Fix Them up With Paris Hilton: She’ll never know the difference and I hear she enjoys really edgy guys. Tip: Attach castors to bottom of feet, to make moving and posing a snap.

9. Trellis for Tomato Plants: I don’t know about you but I can never find a trellis strong enough to hold the beefsteak tomatoes. The vines cover and climb nicely and pests will opt for them, not your tomatoes. Tip: Dress dead spouse in plaid shirt and blue jeans so he will blend in with your garden motif.

10. Put in Green Trash Bin and Let Somebody Else do the Heavy Lifting: We all must do our part to save the planet and recyle and repurpose our waste, so this is a win-win situation. You will probably also get some extra carbon credits for this and your tax dollars will finally be doing something for you. Tip: If dead spouse is over 4 1/2 feet tall, you will  have to fold before putting into bin.

Okay, those are my suggestions – what are yours?
WC

PS: Yes, I know I’m a sick, sick individual.

Entitled…

Not long ago, I was chatting with a friend about the importance of titles for pieces. In my mind, there is nothing like a good title. It entices the reader, clues them into what the piece is about, tantalizes the  imagination. It’s all good.

But what about the poor writer who just isn’t good with titles? The piece may be fascinating, jam-packed with action, adventure and compelling characters, make an outstanding argument, reveal amazing facts – but the title just doesn’t encourage people to read.

I’m not the best at coming up with titles, but I like to think that I sometimes come up with some good ones. To be honest, sometimes, the title just doesn’t jump out at you. Sometimes you have to dig. In fact, I’ve been known to spend more time coming up with a title than I did in writing the piece. Yep, I’m that anal about it. I’ll dig through quotation books, books of cliches, g**gle lists, dictionaries, thesaruses, whatever I can get my hands on. Sometimes I fall flat, but I really do give it the ol’ college try.

However, there are some folks who don’t seem to share my enthusiasm for finding just the right combination of words to enshrine their work. Following, are a few examples. Whaddaya think?

Country songs:

  1. How Can I Get Over You if You Won’t Get out From Under Me? (My question is, how did he manage to write the song under these conditions?)
  2. I Don’t Know Whether To Kill Myself or Go Bowling.(Sports vs suicide, always a tough choice)
  3. I Spent my Last 2 Dollars on Birth Control and Beer. (Where can you get birth control and beer at those prices? Walmart?)
  4. If the Devil Danced in Empty Pockets, He’d Have a Ball in Mine. (I think I’ll let Evyl comment on this one.)
  5. One Day, When you Swing That Skillet (My face ain’t gonna be there.) (Someone should tell him that plastic surgery is much easier)
  6. You Ain’t Much Fun Since I Quit Drinking. (Isn’t it funny how people change based on our alcohol consumption?)

Movie Titles:

  1. Feeling Minnesota (But what part of Minnesota are you feeling?)
  2. Snakes on a Plane (Is this racial profiling?)
  3. Bounce (A movie about drier sheets?)
  4. Waterworld (Good for an amusement park, not so much a movie)
  5. Crash (Boom?)
  6. Death to Smoochy (I think they should kill the parent who named their child smoochy)
  7. Perfume: The Story of a Murderer (Talk about a lingering scent)

Album Titles:

  1. The Earth, a Small Man, His Dog and a Chicken (WTF?)
  2. The Serpent is Rising (Don’t tell me, tell your wife!)
  3. Fungus Among Us (Bad puns aren’t punny)
  4. Mellon Collie & The Infinite Sadness (The life of a sad Lassie and a zen poodle?)
  5. Meat is Murder (I’m pretty sure it isn’t)

Book Titles:

  1. Bleak House (There’s a place I want to read about)
  2. Smilla’s Sense of Snow (Why is Smilla sensing snow?)
  3. The Horse Whisperer (Mr. Ed with strep throat?)
  4. Woman Are From Venus, Men Are From Mars (Where’s your official study on this?)
  5. Don’t Pee on my Leg and Tell me it’s Raining (A little too straight from the hips if you ask me)
  6. All My Friends Are Dead (Did you kill them?)

TV Shows:

  1. My Mother the Car (At least she’s not a sheep)
  2. The Biggest Loser (WTF?)
  3. Cop Rock (Throwing rocks, blowing rocks, rocking rocks???)
  4. Manimal (Forerunner to cloning?)
  5. Baa Baa Black Sheep (A real man’s show)
  6. Different Strokes (Again, over to you, Evyl)
  7. Leave it to Beaver (Many do)

 So there you have it, lots of bad titles. Anybody want to add, feel free.

WC