To me this is like looking down from a bridge on to some crazy metal-scrap yard.
08 November 2009
Hooray! San Francisco!
Getting up at 6am was actually awesome, because I knew there was a good reason other than slogging through another day at work. There was a rough patch in getting The Boy out of bed, but I made it to the airport on time, had a great flight since there was like 20 people on board. The seats behind me were empty, the seat next to me was empty, and so were the seats in front of me until some 200lb man left his friend to come flop around in those seats making my laptop jitterbug on the table tray. I arrived to a sunny day in SF, where my friends took me to breakfast (blueberry short stack!). Then there was some fun times at Multikulti, where Frijole and I bought some awesome rings, and I got a very nice wallet with an owl on it. Then a nice brisk walk to the salon, and I finally got a haircut that, as Frijole put it, makes me look like an "adult." I'm warming up to it, but it is a big change. I have short bits of hair around my face, like long bangs. I can't describe it. Basically, the curls have action and movement. This should make some people very happy. The rest of the afternoon was spent walking and talking. Finished with a bar and Mexican food. Someone got a bit drunk, and I may have used a few inflammatory words like, "retard," "douchebag," "Downs Syndrome" (that last only after Frijole used it in an example, and then I turned it against her because I'm crafty like that). Evening finished with a good jolly viewing of this Shane MacGowan DVD I have. He laughs just like one of my cat hisses. I have a feeling we'll be doing a lot of that over the next few days. I may lose my voice, but it will totally be worth it. It is 2:30am my time, which means I have been up 21.5 hours, which is totally ridiculous for me. I can only hope I am able to get off of their loving couch tomorrow morning. Yes, I am completely cheating on my couch. There's is so much more embracing and comforting than mine. I do love my couch for what it is, but this one, even though I only see it once a year or so, totally knows how to treat me right.
Goodnight!
Goodnight!
05 November 2009
The Stress Before the Vacation
Got nothing done at work today when I did need to get things done. Luckily, I didn't have to look at the retired-cop squad in front of my desk, since I spent almost the whole time at work upstairs in my boss' office. Then I had a 3-hour class. I have not mosaiced since Monday, and there is no way I am doing NaNoWriMo tonight. Will have to write double at work tomorrow, or triple on the plane out to SF Saturday.
Tonight I managed to do 3 loads of laundry and watch one stupid episode of Dexter with boy. That show is predictable drivel that is driving me nuts with its inanity. It'll be nice to have a break from for 5 days. Just have to get through tomorrow. Which will totally be anxiety-filled as I freak out making sure I have everything packed.
There's also the problem that I worry the cats won't get any water. The Boy has a very hard time remembering to freshen their water. He gets himself a can of bubbly water at least once an hour, but the cats get nothing. How sad for them. And I think we're out of litter (I usually clean the boxes and he usually puts the litter in them), and there was no notation on the grocery list that we need litter. Sigh.
Just the grumpies before I leave. Totally normal I suppose.
Goodnight.
Tonight I managed to do 3 loads of laundry and watch one stupid episode of Dexter with boy. That show is predictable drivel that is driving me nuts with its inanity. It'll be nice to have a break from for 5 days. Just have to get through tomorrow. Which will totally be anxiety-filled as I freak out making sure I have everything packed.
There's also the problem that I worry the cats won't get any water. The Boy has a very hard time remembering to freshen their water. He gets himself a can of bubbly water at least once an hour, but the cats get nothing. How sad for them. And I think we're out of litter (I usually clean the boxes and he usually puts the litter in them), and there was no notation on the grocery list that we need litter. Sigh.
Just the grumpies before I leave. Totally normal I suppose.
Goodnight.
04 November 2009
Butterfly
Spent the whole day offline. Got to hear a room full of men passionately debate their version of a complicated job description. It was actually quite an enlightening six hours. Sadly, I was only able to spit out about 300 words for NaNoWriMo. Since I am so completely filled to the brim with snot, it may not be wise to go and mosaic tonight. I am so far along, that I'm not really worried about my 12/2 deadline. Yet, I did think I would work on it nightly until I left for SF, so I am disappointing my own goals. Guilt. I have so much guilt that there's no need for. Lame.
While out at my meeting, I saw the biggest butterfly I have ever scene. It was the size of my hand. I did not have my fancy camera with me, so had to make do with my little one. Damn thing kept fluttering and floating like a hummingbird, so it wasn't the easiest shot. Yet, I got two half-way descent shots:
It was nice not having to spend the day watching Ex-cop, ECL and Twit plot. Just two more days to go and I get a wonderful 5-day break. I'm beyond excited. Even better, Frijole made a hair appointment for me on Saturday. Here's to hoping I won't spend the rest of the vacation crying.
While out at my meeting, I saw the biggest butterfly I have ever scene. It was the size of my hand. I did not have my fancy camera with me, so had to make do with my little one. Damn thing kept fluttering and floating like a hummingbird, so it wasn't the easiest shot. Yet, I got two half-way descent shots:
It was nice not having to spend the day watching Ex-cop, ECL and Twit plot. Just two more days to go and I get a wonderful 5-day break. I'm beyond excited. Even better, Frijole made a hair appointment for me on Saturday. Here's to hoping I won't spend the rest of the vacation crying.
03 November 2009
Took a 1/3 break
Considering how fucked up my fingers are after yesterday, I decided to give myself a mosaicing night off. I still did my 1667 for NaNoWriMo, and am making this entry to round out the evening. My left thumb has a nasty slice on it that gives me a nice jab every time I hit the spacebar. I took two Klonopins to ease the pain.
The Boy took me out to Houston's for dinner where he got the tasty veggie burger and fries, and I got the butternut soup, "traditional salad" and a side of fries. The only meat was the bits of bacon in my salad. We probably were a good laugh for the water. No one goes to Houston and doesn't walk away with some kind of top-grade beef baby bursting out of his/her belly. Now he wants to watch Dexter before I fall asleep. He bought me dinner, I'm sure I can do this for him. Maybe.
In other news, I am 95% sure that Twit is pregnant. Today she stood up and rubbed her belly in the way that pregnant ladies do. I feel she is daring me to ask her about it. I will not. I cannot imagine hearing those kind of details coming from her. I'm trying to decide the pros and cons of this: three months without her, pro; three months of doing hers and my work with no extra money, serious con.
Today her, Ex-cop and ECL totally rearranged the office. ECL, a TEMP, PART-TIME employee got building maintenance to totally build him a modular office. He gets walls? Seriously, a temp, part-time employee gets walls? Will someone explain this to me? The new lady comes on Monday. I am trying to remain open-minded, but she is also retired from the force (though she was in some administrative support position, which I take to mean she only knows how to use a typewriter). So there will be a whole party of retired APD and Twit DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF MY DESK. Feel my pain.
The Boy took me out to Houston's for dinner where he got the tasty veggie burger and fries, and I got the butternut soup, "traditional salad" and a side of fries. The only meat was the bits of bacon in my salad. We probably were a good laugh for the water. No one goes to Houston and doesn't walk away with some kind of top-grade beef baby bursting out of his/her belly. Now he wants to watch Dexter before I fall asleep. He bought me dinner, I'm sure I can do this for him. Maybe.
In other news, I am 95% sure that Twit is pregnant. Today she stood up and rubbed her belly in the way that pregnant ladies do. I feel she is daring me to ask her about it. I will not. I cannot imagine hearing those kind of details coming from her. I'm trying to decide the pros and cons of this: three months without her, pro; three months of doing hers and my work with no extra money, serious con.
Today her, Ex-cop and ECL totally rearranged the office. ECL, a TEMP, PART-TIME employee got building maintenance to totally build him a modular office. He gets walls? Seriously, a temp, part-time employee gets walls? Will someone explain this to me? The new lady comes on Monday. I am trying to remain open-minded, but she is also retired from the force (though she was in some administrative support position, which I take to mean she only knows how to use a typewriter). So there will be a whole party of retired APD and Twit DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF MY DESK. Feel my pain.
02 November 2009
Seahorse #9
I have an official title: Seahorse #9.
After work I went to Office Depot to get some rubber glue. I stood for a good 10 minutes behind a woman who needed to take a break between each item she put on the counter. There was going to be no rushing her. The cashier and another OD worker were talking about their kids on Halloween, and how damn cute they are. Blah blah blah. The lady didn't have her Office Depot card, but they found her with her phone number. Then she spent some serious time looking for her wallet in her small purse. Where it was hiding is beyond me. My problem was I forgot my license and debit card at home (I haven't been pulled over since I was 18, so I wasn't too worried about the license), but luckily had cash on me to pay for the glue. There was some slight worry on my part that they'd card me for buying that much rubber cement.
To use my ring saw, I have to glue a pattern to the glass, and rubber cement is the best temporarily water-proof glue there is. It holds the paper on for the amount of time it takes to cut out the design. Usually by the end the paper gets really wet and starts to move, but with enough rubber cement, I can usually finish.
Here is my mini-tanker of glue:
After 3.5 hours of tedious cutting and gluing, I managed to put 46 pieces of the seahorse together. Day 10 feels so good! I listened to a mix of The Jesus & Mary Chain.
Here is a close-up of the seahorse:
Time to get cracking on NaNoWriMo. I deleted half of what I did yesterday, so I am a little behind. I promised I wouldn't edit as I went along, but I totally lied to myself.
After work I went to Office Depot to get some rubber glue. I stood for a good 10 minutes behind a woman who needed to take a break between each item she put on the counter. There was going to be no rushing her. The cashier and another OD worker were talking about their kids on Halloween, and how damn cute they are. Blah blah blah. The lady didn't have her Office Depot card, but they found her with her phone number. Then she spent some serious time looking for her wallet in her small purse. Where it was hiding is beyond me. My problem was I forgot my license and debit card at home (I haven't been pulled over since I was 18, so I wasn't too worried about the license), but luckily had cash on me to pay for the glue. There was some slight worry on my part that they'd card me for buying that much rubber cement.
To use my ring saw, I have to glue a pattern to the glass, and rubber cement is the best temporarily water-proof glue there is. It holds the paper on for the amount of time it takes to cut out the design. Usually by the end the paper gets really wet and starts to move, but with enough rubber cement, I can usually finish.
Here is my mini-tanker of glue:
After 3.5 hours of tedious cutting and gluing, I managed to put 46 pieces of the seahorse together. Day 10 feels so good! I listened to a mix of The Jesus & Mary Chain.
Here is a close-up of the seahorse:
Time to get cracking on NaNoWriMo. I deleted half of what I did yesterday, so I am a little behind. I promised I wouldn't edit as I went along, but I totally lied to myself.
Territorial Rant
Here's the thing, Ex-cop was hired in March. He was allotted one office. He was told he'd be moving office in the late fall due to an overall reorganization of the building. I guess this was a bit much to sink fully in to that thick head of his. He somehow convinced someone, somewhere, that he need two temps to work for him on a part-time basis. These got approved; HOWEVER, there is no space for them on the floor plan that was put in place around when Ex-cop got hired.
Now it is time for Ex-cop to move in to where he had put ECL, which means ECL has to move out of the office. How dreadful for him to sit with us peons out here in the open space. Then the new temp starts next Monday. Ex-cop, ECL and Twit are all trying to figure out how to sort this area that seats two to not seat four. THEY KEEP EYING MY AREA. I do HR work, I have A LOT of filing cabinets. Yet, somehow they look at my space and make those filing cabinets disappear and start talking about how they can move me here or there, or up this way or down that way. I sit in a corner, there isn't much moving to be had. I don't really appreciate what is basically a different office encroaching on mine.
I don't know what the ultimate end of this will be, but I will be in San Fran when the new temp starts. So I won't even be here to protect my area. I can pee on it, mark my place and all that, but I doubt it would change anything.
I realize I am a very territorial person. I know that isn't the best trait in the world, but it is part of the older-sibling syndrome. However, I di suggest many things that involved touching my space, and yet that wasn't enough for them. I think they want me to go away since I am not part of the gang. Nor do I want to be. I just want to keep my area. For fuck's sake, I don't even have walls, stop trying to encroach on what little I have.
Grrrrr
Now it is time for Ex-cop to move in to where he had put ECL, which means ECL has to move out of the office. How dreadful for him to sit with us peons out here in the open space. Then the new temp starts next Monday. Ex-cop, ECL and Twit are all trying to figure out how to sort this area that seats two to not seat four. THEY KEEP EYING MY AREA. I do HR work, I have A LOT of filing cabinets. Yet, somehow they look at my space and make those filing cabinets disappear and start talking about how they can move me here or there, or up this way or down that way. I sit in a corner, there isn't much moving to be had. I don't really appreciate what is basically a different office encroaching on mine.
I don't know what the ultimate end of this will be, but I will be in San Fran when the new temp starts. So I won't even be here to protect my area. I can pee on it, mark my place and all that, but I doubt it would change anything.
I realize I am a very territorial person. I know that isn't the best trait in the world, but it is part of the older-sibling syndrome. However, I di suggest many things that involved touching my space, and yet that wasn't enough for them. I think they want me to go away since I am not part of the gang. Nor do I want to be. I just want to keep my area. For fuck's sake, I don't even have walls, stop trying to encroach on what little I have.
Grrrrr
01 November 2009
An Exhaustive Day 9
Another day of bad allergies. I'm a leaky faucet. I woke up, at some pancakes, then fell asleep on the couch. AFTER BEING UP A WHOLE HOUR. So far I have taken an Allegra and a Zyrtec. I'm about to take a Benadryl. Sleeping through the allergies is preferable to wiping at my nose every 2 seconds. I spent my afternoon chatting it up with Fink-Nottle and writing my first 1,667 words for NaNoWriMo. Fink-Nottle is currently beating me--I only made it to 1609, where as he is at 1709. Fink-Nottle is totally an overachiever. Then I watched some Dexter with The Boy.
While on the couch watching the most moronic show Showtime has ever produced, I got to witness this kind of loving:
That's The Boy's mess in the background. Where there is paper, there is Boy. Later, Whoopis was sleeping on the top of the couch under our freshly hung art:
Then on to the garage to mosaic. Which did not go well--with the wiping of snot from my face every minute with glass dust on my hands. Not good at all. I managed to eek out 2 very agonizing hours. I continued the mix of my favorite songs (there are probably over 300), but don't feel like posting them right now. Too tired.
I cannot go much further than where I am at now. The seahorse has to be made before I can fill in around it. I plan to use my ring saw to help with that endeavor. I haven't used this in probably a year, and I am so excited to use it...tomorrow, excited for tomorrow. There is no way I am going to abuse my body further by using the ring saw today. That sucker gets you wet very quickly and it is a mess of wet glass dust all over your face and body. Instead, tonight I will work on the templates to rubber glue to the glass. The seahorse will be yellow and magnificent. The mosaic will look practically finished when he's on there.
While on the couch watching the most moronic show Showtime has ever produced, I got to witness this kind of loving:
That's The Boy's mess in the background. Where there is paper, there is Boy. Later, Whoopis was sleeping on the top of the couch under our freshly hung art:
Then on to the garage to mosaic. Which did not go well--with the wiping of snot from my face every minute with glass dust on my hands. Not good at all. I managed to eek out 2 very agonizing hours. I continued the mix of my favorite songs (there are probably over 300), but don't feel like posting them right now. Too tired.
I cannot go much further than where I am at now. The seahorse has to be made before I can fill in around it. I plan to use my ring saw to help with that endeavor. I haven't used this in probably a year, and I am so excited to use it...tomorrow, excited for tomorrow. There is no way I am going to abuse my body further by using the ring saw today. That sucker gets you wet very quickly and it is a mess of wet glass dust all over your face and body. Instead, tonight I will work on the templates to rubber glue to the glass. The seahorse will be yellow and magnificent. The mosaic will look practically finished when he's on there.
Slippery Stripes
What the fuck is American Apparel thinking?
Who, exactly, is their target audience? I came across this ad while wasting time on Facebook. Today is the first day of National Novel Writing Month, and I've shot 1600 pretty terribly written words out of my ass, and thought I'd give myself a break and look at FB, only to be greeted with this ad. I'm really embarrassed for AA, and have looked away so as not to stare at their shame.
Who, exactly, is their target audience? I came across this ad while wasting time on Facebook. Today is the first day of National Novel Writing Month, and I've shot 1600 pretty terribly written words out of my ass, and thought I'd give myself a break and look at FB, only to be greeted with this ad. I'm really embarrassed for AA, and have looked away so as not to stare at their shame.
31 October 2009
High on Soldering Fumes
The Boy has been in the garage soldering effects pedals (he is building them from scratch) while I am mosaicing. After a day of various errands (lunch, Target, Hobby Lobby, Lumber Liquidators and Best Buy) under a glorious blue autumn sky, we both went to work on our respective projects in the garage. I'd say we were out there around 4 hours or so. Hopefully I didn't suck back too much soldering fumes, because The Boy was all sluggish today, and he felt it was from yesterday's work in the garage. He was dragging and that's a dull way to be on the weekend. Tomorrow The Boy will be gone the majority of the day and probably a good portion of the evening. I feel that I will spend the day doing a mix of catching up DVR shows and mosaicing. Maybe I can call in sick on Monday with a broken back.
Here is today's song list--still my favorite top-rated song on shuffle:
The Milkman of Human Kindness, Billy Bragg (aka: Biccy Brass as I fondly call him)
Give Us Moon Rocks!, The Swirlies
You are the Everything, R.E.M.
A Little Less Conversation, Elvis Presley
Angelfuck, The Misfits
The Queen is Dead (Take Me Back to Dear Old Blighty), The Smiths
Halah, Mazzy Star
Buzz Buzz Buzz, The Primitives
What Do I Do Now?, Sleeper
Stuart, The Dead Milkmen
Christine, The House of Love
Friendly Advice, Luna
Melting Blue Delicious, The Wild Swans
Dalliance, The Wedding Present
Kiss Me on the Bus, The Replacements
Games Without Frontiers, Peter Gabriel
Vicar in a Tutu, The Smiths
That Great Love Song, The Raveonettes
I Don't Believe You, The Magnetic Fields
Things I Miss, My Bloody Valentine
That Girl, Beat Happening
A Feeling, Throwing Muses
Fade Into You, Mazzy Star
She Sings (All My Life), Ian McCulloch
Hunny Hunny, Book of Love
Swinging London, The Magnetic Fields
Boys Don't Cry, The Cure
City of the Damned, The Gothic Archies
Kundalini Express, Love & Rockets
Star Sign, Teenage Fanclub
Hats Off to Halford, Atom & His Package
I'm a Man You Don't Meet Everyday, The Pogues
Hot Chocolate Boy, Beat Happening
Song of a Gun, The Vaselines
Frankly Mr Shankly, The Smiths
Paint a Vulgar Picture, The Smiths
Black Cab, Jens Lekman
I'm On Fire, Bruce Springsteen
Lullaby, The Normans
Come Play With Me, The Wedding Present
Blue Light, Mazzy Star
Hate, Cinerama
Common People, Pulp
Honey Pot, Beat Happening
Disappear, Mazzy Star
Attitude, The Misfits
Pretty Shoes, Jen Lekman
Deanna, Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds
Letter From an Occupant, The New Pornographers
Atmosphere, Joy Division
Under the Milky Way, The Church
America, James
Here Comes My Baby, Yo La Tengo
Writing, The Normans
A New England, Billy Bragg
Senses Working Overtime, XTC
I Believe, The Buzzcocks
Last Caress, The Misfits
Listen to My Heart, The Ramones
Brand New Love, Sebadoh
Tomorrow's Tears, The Cranes
Our Love Will Still Be There, The Troggs
Blake's Jerusalem, Billy Bragg
I Don't Wanna Grow Up, Tom Waits
The World Is a Very Scary Place (from The Wide Window), The Gothic Archies
The Christmas Song, The Raveonettes
If I Should Fall From Grace of God, The Pogues
Wake Up, The Arcade Fire
King of Fools, Social Distortion
Black Steel, Tricky
Moon Palace, Luna
Now The Boy, Wikus and I are watching some dumbass movie with the lights off to avoid the trick-or-treaters. Right now a very erect nipple belonging to Nicole Kidman is practically stabbing me in the eyes. Ok, seriously, don't watch "Margot at the Wedding." Wikus thinks that some lame pretentious college student wrote it. Maybe we'll give up and watch "Raising Arizona" instead. We'll see.
30 October 2009
Seven Days of Shredding My Fingers
This took me 5 hours. I was in the garage for 6, but took an hour off to speak with my best friend in San Fran. I get to see her in one week, and we are mucho excited. Shopping, margaritas, tide pools, etc. That's why I must kick ass on this mosaic as much as possible before I leave town.
Glass, as I'm sure everyone is aware, is dangerous. For me, I am always slicing my fingers when pressing the glass in to the grinder. I know there are these weird thumb and finger protectors I can buy online, but I worry that I won't be able to feel the glass. That is really important since I take off glass in teeny increments to get it to fit where I want. However, my fingers are so cut up, that I might want to try them out, since typing is really painful right now.
Since I knew today would be a marathon session, I chose to listen to my "favorite" songs on random. Yes, I star the songs on my iPod just for this reason. My favorite playlist plays only 5-starred songs. This is what I listened to, in order played, with the one hour I was on the phone with Frijole not included.
The Emperor's New Clothes, Sinead O'Connor
Superfreaky Memories, Luna
Everybody Knows, Leonard Cohen
Indian Summer, Luna
Too Drunk to Dream, The Magnetic Fields
Lonesome Tonight, New Order
Let the Cool Goddess Rust Away, Clap Your Hand Say Yeah
Getting Nowhere Fast, The Wedding Present
Pictures of You, The Cure
map ref. 41n 93w, My Bloody Valentine
Hong Kong Garden (With Strings Intro), Siouxsie & the Banshees
City Girl, Kevin Shields
Look on Down From the Bridge, Mazzy Star
Happy Birthday, Altered Images
Road to Nowhere, Talking Heads
This Charming Man, The Smiths
Skulls, The Misfits
Try and Stop Me, The Creation
Epitaph For My Heart, The Magnetic Fields
Son of a Preacher Man, Dusty Springfield
Our Secret, Beat Happening
Rocket, The Wedding Present
Suspicious Minds, Elvis Presley
Whisper to a Scream, Icicle Works
Up For a Bit, The Pastels
Breathless, Nice Cave & the Bad Seeds
Sex is Boring, Ballboy
Road to Nowhere, Talking Heads
Real Thing, The Wedding Present
Just Can't Get Enough, Depeche Mode
Love Will Tear Us Apart, Joy Division
Morning Has Broken, Cat Stevens (shut up Boy, I like this song)
Ask, The Smiths
Making Believe, Social Distortion
Love Vigilantes, New Order
Big Rock Candy Mountain, Motorcycle Boy
I Don't Want to Grow Up, The Ramones
The Boy With The Arab Strap, Belle & Sebastian
Slash Your Tires, Luna
Generals and Majors, XTC
Song 2, Blur
Escort Crash on Marsten Street, Heavenly
So Long, Marianne; Leonard Cohen
This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody), Talking Heads
Finest Worksong, R.E.M.
If There's Such a Thing as Love, The Magnetic Fields
Chelsea Girl, Ride
Honeydrip, Ian McCulloch
Throw Aggi Off the Bridge, Black Tambourine
Making Time, Creation
Jane Says, Jane's Addiction
The Book of Love, The Magnetic Fields
Kennedy, The Wedding Present
In a Big Country, Big Country
A Chicken With Its Head Cut Off, The Magnetic Fields
Joan of Arc, OMD
You Can't Hurry Love, The Concretes
The Stars of Track and Field, Belle & Sebastian
****phone call with Frijole****
Mercy Seat, Ultra Vivid Scene
Blasphemous Rumors, Depeche Mode
Ray, The House of Love
Folsom Prison Blues, Johnny Cash
London, The Smiths
I Walk the Line, Johnny Cash
Solsbury Hill, Peter Gabriel
Nice Guy Eddie, Sleeper
Garden Head - Leave Me Alone, Neutral Milk Hotel
Just Like Honey, The Jesus & Mary Chain
Punk Rock Girl, The Dead Milkmen
When My Boy Walks Down the Street, The Magnetic Fields
I Could Be Happy, Altered Images
Long Division, Aislers Set
The Skin of My Yellow Country Teeth, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
Washington, D.C.; The Magnetic Fields
Head On, The Jesus & Mary Chain
Let's Get Out of the Country, Camera Obscura
Rich, Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Ballad of Peter Pumpkinhead, XTC
If You Own the Washington Redskins, You're a Cock; Atom & His Package
Bad Reputation, Joan Jett & The Blackhearts
The Red Door, Aislers Set
The Way to Market Station, Aislers Set
Judy is a Punk, The Ramones
Bingo, M.I.A.
That was some good listening for all that back-breaking work. I will sleep long and hard tonight. Tomorrow The Boy and I will visit some places looking at hardwood floor options. Probably go get some lunch, then back to slicing up various parts of my hands. I'm really enjoying this palm cut on my left hand right now.
29 October 2009
Avoid Spraying in Eyes
In the bathroom at work is one of those aerosol cans that people spray to cover the smell of their poops. Right now it is some mango smell. Usually it is kept on the bathroom counter, but it looks like a lot of people like to use the handicapped stall for their bowel-moving needs, and balance the spray on the handrails. I find that all very odd, and sad for the actual folks in wheelchairs. I ended up using the handicapped stall the other day because the first stall had poo on the seat and second didn't lock (I believe I mentioned all of this earlier). While I was doing my business I started reading the back of the aerosol can--I end up reading anything with words on it. And there was a lot of blah blah blah on the can, but my favorite was "Avoid spraying in the eyes."
When I say something with the word "avoid" in it, I mean "try not to" but it is not an imperative "DO NOT." It's a suggestion. Hey, you may want to avoid putting that electric eel down your pants! Or avoid using the words sue and lawyer when writing to a company vendor, even in jest. I'm saying you can go ahead and do these things, but it doesn't matter to me how your life ends up afterward, because I did warnyou that I would avoid it.
When it comes to spraying a chemical in your eye, is "avoid" a strong enough word? If you have to call your local poison center, then I'm thinking, "DO NOT spray this product in your eyes" would be a better call. Or, "DO NOT spray this product in your eyes unless you enjoy searing pain and possible permanent damage to your cornea, which may cause agonizing blindness."
When I say something with the word "avoid" in it, I mean "try not to" but it is not an imperative "DO NOT." It's a suggestion. Hey, you may want to avoid putting that electric eel down your pants! Or avoid using the words sue and lawyer when writing to a company vendor, even in jest. I'm saying you can go ahead and do these things, but it doesn't matter to me how your life ends up afterward, because I did warnyou that I would avoid it.
When it comes to spraying a chemical in your eye, is "avoid" a strong enough word? If you have to call your local poison center, then I'm thinking, "DO NOT spray this product in your eyes" would be a better call. Or, "DO NOT spray this product in your eyes unless you enjoy searing pain and possible permanent damage to your cornea, which may cause agonizing blindness."
28 October 2009
Anniversaries
I let yesterday pass without mentioning that October 27th is a special day for my rites of passage in to womanhood. These are two days that I don't think I ever discuss much, because really, why? Yet, I'm always a little amazed how both just happened to have occurred on an October 27th:
12 years old: I get my first period, and not being like Margaret, I'm less than impressed. I didn't get my second one until 9 months later. I thought that is how all periods should work: once every 9 months. Wouldn't that be grand. An important thing to note is I don't actually call my period but its usual monikers. I prefer to say, "george." It can be a verb, too, "georging." This started in 1990 when I was friends with this lovely girl, and it is what she called it, so of course, me wanting to be as cool as her in her plaid tights and totally punk hair-do, started calling it "george," too. I've never looked back. I have several friends who now use the same euphemism. George just seems so appropriate. In so many sexist ways. Sadly, I think I may be georging when I am in San Francisco, and that is totally wrong.
15 years old: got permission to go to our high-school's football game with two other friends of mine. Then I walked over to my ex-boyfriend's best friend's house. That's right. I've always been a terrible person. Started early, too. my friends discreetly left me there (I wonder what they did the rest of the evening?), and I have sex with this guy, TWICE, while his grandfather is making random snorting noises in the next room. The ex-boyfriend's best friend (EBBF) kept shushing me. He seemed horrified that I was making noise during all that sex we were having. He was very gracious afterward when he said he never had sex with a girl who could "move like that." Go me! Shortly afterward my friends came back by to pick me up, then we did some random violence on huge terra cota planters that were sitting outside of a grocery store. After we got that out of our systems, we went back to the football game just in time to be picked up by my parents. Ah, to be 15. Of course that is one of the last times I saw that guy, but that was ok with me. I was relieved I had gotten that pesky virginity problem out of the way. Also, he stole cars (Z-rocs I believe), and a judge made him move in with his mother who lived in Florida. I so used him.
As far as I can remember, no other October 27th has been particularly special. Yesterday certainly wasn't.
12 years old: I get my first period, and not being like Margaret, I'm less than impressed. I didn't get my second one until 9 months later. I thought that is how all periods should work: once every 9 months. Wouldn't that be grand. An important thing to note is I don't actually call my period but its usual monikers. I prefer to say, "george." It can be a verb, too, "georging." This started in 1990 when I was friends with this lovely girl, and it is what she called it, so of course, me wanting to be as cool as her in her plaid tights and totally punk hair-do, started calling it "george," too. I've never looked back. I have several friends who now use the same euphemism. George just seems so appropriate. In so many sexist ways. Sadly, I think I may be georging when I am in San Francisco, and that is totally wrong.
15 years old: got permission to go to our high-school's football game with two other friends of mine. Then I walked over to my ex-boyfriend's best friend's house. That's right. I've always been a terrible person. Started early, too. my friends discreetly left me there (I wonder what they did the rest of the evening?), and I have sex with this guy, TWICE, while his grandfather is making random snorting noises in the next room. The ex-boyfriend's best friend (EBBF) kept shushing me. He seemed horrified that I was making noise during all that sex we were having. He was very gracious afterward when he said he never had sex with a girl who could "move like that." Go me! Shortly afterward my friends came back by to pick me up, then we did some random violence on huge terra cota planters that were sitting outside of a grocery store. After we got that out of our systems, we went back to the football game just in time to be picked up by my parents. Ah, to be 15. Of course that is one of the last times I saw that guy, but that was ok with me. I was relieved I had gotten that pesky virginity problem out of the way. Also, he stole cars (Z-rocs I believe), and a judge made him move in with his mother who lived in Florida. I so used him.
As far as I can remember, no other October 27th has been particularly special. Yesterday certainly wasn't.
27 October 2009
Pregnancy Rumor Update
I believe I was a little "snitty" to The Boy this afternoon. I had this grand idea, that was mostly self-serving, but geez, I thought he'd fall for it since it involved food. I was trying to trick him in to going out to his favorite restaurant ("modern" Mexican), and then running to the grocery store with me. I agreed to bring a fruit plate to my boss' "going-away" party tomorrow. I use that in quotes because she is only moving to the 8th floor, five stories up, so it's not like she's leaving us, but it certainly feels like it. I know she likes healthy food, so I thought bacon meatloaf would be inappropriate. Sadly, The Boy had some 4-hour budget-review meeting at work tonight, and usually he has no problem being late to everything, and always acts like I'm a moron when I'm anxious that I (or we) will be late to something. But today, oh no, he wasn't chancing it. I'm fairly certain we could have grabbed a fruit tray and eaten dinner and he would have made it on time. He suggested we just go in separate cars, and I basically had a panic attack, and just thought that was the most horrible thing in the world. I can't explain it, other than I am crazy, and sometimes things seem way more complicated to me then they really are, you know, in real life.
Even though I was bit short with him, he still made me dinner. How awesome is that? We had pumpkin raviolis and Quorn chick'n nuggets. So damn good. I swear those Quorn chick'n nuggets are like McDonald's, not at all like those dry wood chips Morning Star is passing off as food. Without that "e" and chicken, you know it isn't actually meat. I think McDonald's may want to get the clue.
I am currently typing with one of these on my arms between my face and the laptop:
(There's also a little smidge of the orange lover if you look closely.)
It took me awhile to get motivated, but once I made it to the garage, things progressed nicely. I am working on opposite sides each night in attempt to keep the Lucite from buckling and warping as much as possible. Tonight I worked on sea grass and water. When I close down shop for the night, I always gingerly lie the whole thing on the floor and put some MDF across it to keep it as flat as possible. I've never worked with such a long piece and I'm very nervous of the whole thing snapping as I get toward the middle. It is my hope that I am just being paranoid, and should pop an extra Celexa when I feel this way.
Day 6: mix of Atom & His Package (thinking of my dear Frijole and how I get to see her in 1.5 weeks), 2.5 hours
Twit Rumor Update: I spent the whole day attempting to get a glimpse of her stomach. She even caught me staring once, but I just squinted my eyes to let her know to not even ask what I'm doing. There is definitely a bulge. This woman is like 10-year-old girl skinny. She is so buttless, that her pants just ride up between the crack in her back. All I can say is I hope she has a benign tumor in there, because I will be shit-pissed if she is pregnant. I have zero interest in doing her work with no extra pay while she is out on maternity leave. Nor am I looking forward to her bringing her baby in the office, because I will NOT coo at it. No damn way.
Even though I was bit short with him, he still made me dinner. How awesome is that? We had pumpkin raviolis and Quorn chick'n nuggets. So damn good. I swear those Quorn chick'n nuggets are like McDonald's, not at all like those dry wood chips Morning Star is passing off as food. Without that "e" and chicken, you know it isn't actually meat. I think McDonald's may want to get the clue.
I am currently typing with one of these on my arms between my face and the laptop:
(There's also a little smidge of the orange lover if you look closely.)
It took me awhile to get motivated, but once I made it to the garage, things progressed nicely. I am working on opposite sides each night in attempt to keep the Lucite from buckling and warping as much as possible. Tonight I worked on sea grass and water. When I close down shop for the night, I always gingerly lie the whole thing on the floor and put some MDF across it to keep it as flat as possible. I've never worked with such a long piece and I'm very nervous of the whole thing snapping as I get toward the middle. It is my hope that I am just being paranoid, and should pop an extra Celexa when I feel this way.
Day 6: mix of Atom & His Package (thinking of my dear Frijole and how I get to see her in 1.5 weeks), 2.5 hours
Twit Rumor Update: I spent the whole day attempting to get a glimpse of her stomach. She even caught me staring once, but I just squinted my eyes to let her know to not even ask what I'm doing. There is definitely a bulge. This woman is like 10-year-old girl skinny. She is so buttless, that her pants just ride up between the crack in her back. All I can say is I hope she has a benign tumor in there, because I will be shit-pissed if she is pregnant. I have zero interest in doing her work with no extra pay while she is out on maternity leave. Nor am I looking forward to her bringing her baby in the office, because I will NOT coo at it. No damn way.
26 October 2009
After a Day's Rest
The weather is 55 and rainy. Which is just terrible if you have to be outside, but it is that time of year that is so nice inside. The cats are snugly, no one is calling me crazy for being under a blanket, and I can wear silly outfits to mosaic in the garage.
Check out that mighty-fine combination of pink-striped fuzzy pajama pants, red argyle socks and Converse. Seriously, this is the best outfit I've ever worn in the garage. Ok, I did run the space heater for the first hour or so, but so what? I'm allowed.
Day 5: mix of Luna songs, 2.5 hours
Some of you have asked about the tools I use. Here is most of them: WeldBond glue (best glue ever made, EVER), safety glasses (I really need to purchase ones that aren't as cheap), paintbrush (WARNING: do not use your hands to swipe glass bits off of table and mosaic), tile nippers (for chipping away very tiny areas of glass), glass cutter (scores the glass), and the thing I always forget the name of (breaks the glass along the score line). Not featured here is my grinder and ring saw. I have yet to break out the ring saw on this project, but probably will when I get to the seahorse. Also not featured is a green marker I stole a very long time ago from Wikus that I use to mark where I want to score my glass. Thanks Wikus!
Check out that mighty-fine combination of pink-striped fuzzy pajama pants, red argyle socks and Converse. Seriously, this is the best outfit I've ever worn in the garage. Ok, I did run the space heater for the first hour or so, but so what? I'm allowed.
Day 5: mix of Luna songs, 2.5 hours
Some of you have asked about the tools I use. Here is most of them: WeldBond glue (best glue ever made, EVER), safety glasses (I really need to purchase ones that aren't as cheap), paintbrush (WARNING: do not use your hands to swipe glass bits off of table and mosaic), tile nippers (for chipping away very tiny areas of glass), glass cutter (scores the glass), and the thing I always forget the name of (breaks the glass along the score line). Not featured here is my grinder and ring saw. I have yet to break out the ring saw on this project, but probably will when I get to the seahorse. Also not featured is a green marker I stole a very long time ago from Wikus that I use to mark where I want to score my glass. Thanks Wikus!
Spreading Rumors about Twit
Monday. Torrential rain. Hour late to work but still the first one to get here. Xerox is down again, after being told by the Xerox technician on Friday that he had replaced all the boards and it should be working fine. This took him 6 days in a row to do. No one is pleased that the damn thing is down again. I sent a snarky email to the whole floor, IT and the person who deals with our Xerox contract. I may have mentioned dropping the Xerox from our collective will, and that we plan to sue the Xerox doctors, that our lawyers are already on the phone. Everyone on the floor ate this up like the good little boys and girls they are--so easy to amuse! However, the person who deals with our contract felt it was a good idea to send my email to the Xerox rep, who now thinks we are threatening legal action. Awesome.
Just went in to the bathroom, and there is poop on the toilet seat in the first stall. How does this happen? And once it does happen, however it does, why would a person not clean that up? I mean, if you get shit on the seat, isn't there a good chance you just got shit on the back of your ass? As far as I am aware, I have never shat on the back of a toilet seat, and my ass is not small, yet I still know how to direct my poop chute at the giant hole in the middle of the toilet seat.
Since I did not feel like cleaning up someone else's shit this morning, I went to the 3rd stall. The 2nd stall doesn't lock, and in my life I have been walked in on more than once while I'm in the middle of wiping myself. That to me is the lowest point of using the bathroom. I can handle being walked in on while pulling down my underwear, sitting on the toilet and standing back up, but I simply feel it is completely humiliating to be observed wiping myself. Thus, I did the horrible thing and used the 3rd stall, the handicap stall. I always rationalize this decision by thinking that I've never seen a person in a wheelchair in this building. Yet, the guilt still remains. I find it hard to move my bowels with so much guilt hanging over me.
Also, I may be 100% off base, but I think Twit may be pregnant. This is from a snippet of overheard conversation (she's always yakking on her cell at her desk), and something about her doctor, needing to check on the back pain which is probably just due to the extra weight, and all the chunks of time she's been out of the office lately. Now, to be clear, this is completely speculation. I never ever look at her, so I have never contemplated looking at her stomach. I did force myself to take a look today, but she is wearing a very ill-fitting blouse that is like a big box. This could be her normal bad taste in clothes or she is starting to show. Why I'm not totally sure about this for the most part is because the woman loves to talk about herself, and I'm relatively certain that if she was pregnant she would be telling everyone for the attention. I think she dreams of ways to receive emails from coworkers congratulating her on X, or sending their regards on Y, and regrets on Z. Seriously, I should copy the letter she sent 350 coworkers on why they should donate to charity--it included details of her near-death experience and her child dying. Which is sad, terribly sad. But is this the forum to tell strangers about your personal woes? No it is not. It is disgusting and looks like a total play for attention. Ok, yes, my baby died, but that's not the point, I'm just trying every play in the book to get you to notice me! Did it work?
Lastly, I have a hole in my black tights that I keep having to rearrange so it will be under my shoe. This is a very distracting situation.
Just went in to the bathroom, and there is poop on the toilet seat in the first stall. How does this happen? And once it does happen, however it does, why would a person not clean that up? I mean, if you get shit on the seat, isn't there a good chance you just got shit on the back of your ass? As far as I am aware, I have never shat on the back of a toilet seat, and my ass is not small, yet I still know how to direct my poop chute at the giant hole in the middle of the toilet seat.
Since I did not feel like cleaning up someone else's shit this morning, I went to the 3rd stall. The 2nd stall doesn't lock, and in my life I have been walked in on more than once while I'm in the middle of wiping myself. That to me is the lowest point of using the bathroom. I can handle being walked in on while pulling down my underwear, sitting on the toilet and standing back up, but I simply feel it is completely humiliating to be observed wiping myself. Thus, I did the horrible thing and used the 3rd stall, the handicap stall. I always rationalize this decision by thinking that I've never seen a person in a wheelchair in this building. Yet, the guilt still remains. I find it hard to move my bowels with so much guilt hanging over me.
Also, I may be 100% off base, but I think Twit may be pregnant. This is from a snippet of overheard conversation (she's always yakking on her cell at her desk), and something about her doctor, needing to check on the back pain which is probably just due to the extra weight, and all the chunks of time she's been out of the office lately. Now, to be clear, this is completely speculation. I never ever look at her, so I have never contemplated looking at her stomach. I did force myself to take a look today, but she is wearing a very ill-fitting blouse that is like a big box. This could be her normal bad taste in clothes or she is starting to show. Why I'm not totally sure about this for the most part is because the woman loves to talk about herself, and I'm relatively certain that if she was pregnant she would be telling everyone for the attention. I think she dreams of ways to receive emails from coworkers congratulating her on X, or sending their regards on Y, and regrets on Z. Seriously, I should copy the letter she sent 350 coworkers on why they should donate to charity--it included details of her near-death experience and her child dying. Which is sad, terribly sad. But is this the forum to tell strangers about your personal woes? No it is not. It is disgusting and looks like a total play for attention. Ok, yes, my baby died, but that's not the point, I'm just trying every play in the book to get you to notice me! Did it work?
Lastly, I have a hole in my black tights that I keep having to rearrange so it will be under my shoe. This is a very distracting situation.
25 October 2009
Have I Mentioned I Have Allergies?
There will be no day-5 mosaic update today. I first canceled on Wikus for the gem and mineral show, and I so wanted really wanted to go. Then I became one with the couch and let The Boy take care of me. Though, he is now really sad because I ate all the crackers, but possibly misunderstanding what he meant when he said I could have some of the crackers that came with the soup. I took "some" to mean "all." We then watched the first 3 episodes of season 2 of Dexter. I'm really trying hard to enjoy Dexter, but that voice over constantly bopping me over the head with exposition makes me wince and say bad words. Or at least fling copies amounts of snot at the TV. The Boy seems to enjoy it well enough, so I do it for him. But if that character narrates one more "feeling" instead of just letting the scene play out so my wee little brain can actually observe what he's feeling, I'm just going to slit my wrists. That way The Boy can still watch it, and I won't have to. It seems the most logical thing to do.
Then I tried to read "What is the What," which I totally recognize as a good book with an important story to tell, but I'm just having the worst time wanting to read it. It's fine enough writing, it is a compelling story, but I just don't think about it when I'm not actually reading it. And I'm a COMPULSIVE reader. Yet, with this book, I'm totally willing to work through lunch, and watch tv instead of reading before bed. It is terrible, and I don't know what the problem is. After a few pages, I went to sleep in my fucking opulent bed. I am way more interested in this bed than I am reading. A super nice mattress, 600-thread-count sheets and a new down comforter makes for a soft heavenly bed. Even The Boy, who was skeptical about getting this particular mattress, is loving it. He doesn't like spending time in bed unless it is for something other than sleeping. The secret it seems to get The Boy to understand something truly awesome, is to just let him experience it for himself.
Reading obviously led to me falling asleep. Our very nice, yet crazy, neighbor was mowing our yard (the deal is he mows our yard if he is allowed to borrow our mower to mow his lawn--I had nothing to do with this deal, because I'm not comfortable with that sort of thing, but he insisted and The Boy agreed). There's a lawn mower going on outside and I fall asleep. This is basically unheard of. I don't like noise when I'm sleeping. Nor do I like light. I want to sleep all the time, but conditions are rarely optimal. I slept probably for a good 2 hours. The Boy had a shorter nap next to me, and oh, how I felt like shit, but it was easy to forget in the bed that is made of all that is good like kittens and puppies.
The rest of my evening have been spent here on the couch with the orange lover. There is no way I can even step foot in that garage. Not today. I'm so upset about it, I'm on a roll, and my body is forcing me to stay away. Stupid fucking body. Always fighting itself. Getting confused and thinks it is under attack by molds, juniper and dust, so it has to defend itself by trying to kill me. How can I be saddled with such a stupid, fucking moronic body?
I'm more than thrilled to spend the week at work where there will be dust stirred up as 3/4ths of the floor packs up to move. Maybe I should just remove my eyes now, blow up my nose and tear out my lungs. This should be good preventative measures. Or I could watch more Dexter and see which gets me to kill myself first.
Bets?
Then I tried to read "What is the What," which I totally recognize as a good book with an important story to tell, but I'm just having the worst time wanting to read it. It's fine enough writing, it is a compelling story, but I just don't think about it when I'm not actually reading it. And I'm a COMPULSIVE reader. Yet, with this book, I'm totally willing to work through lunch, and watch tv instead of reading before bed. It is terrible, and I don't know what the problem is. After a few pages, I went to sleep in my fucking opulent bed. I am way more interested in this bed than I am reading. A super nice mattress, 600-thread-count sheets and a new down comforter makes for a soft heavenly bed. Even The Boy, who was skeptical about getting this particular mattress, is loving it. He doesn't like spending time in bed unless it is for something other than sleeping. The secret it seems to get The Boy to understand something truly awesome, is to just let him experience it for himself.
Reading obviously led to me falling asleep. Our very nice, yet crazy, neighbor was mowing our yard (the deal is he mows our yard if he is allowed to borrow our mower to mow his lawn--I had nothing to do with this deal, because I'm not comfortable with that sort of thing, but he insisted and The Boy agreed). There's a lawn mower going on outside and I fall asleep. This is basically unheard of. I don't like noise when I'm sleeping. Nor do I like light. I want to sleep all the time, but conditions are rarely optimal. I slept probably for a good 2 hours. The Boy had a shorter nap next to me, and oh, how I felt like shit, but it was easy to forget in the bed that is made of all that is good like kittens and puppies.
The rest of my evening have been spent here on the couch with the orange lover. There is no way I can even step foot in that garage. Not today. I'm so upset about it, I'm on a roll, and my body is forcing me to stay away. Stupid fucking body. Always fighting itself. Getting confused and thinks it is under attack by molds, juniper and dust, so it has to defend itself by trying to kill me. How can I be saddled with such a stupid, fucking moronic body?
I'm more than thrilled to spend the week at work where there will be dust stirred up as 3/4ths of the floor packs up to move. Maybe I should just remove my eyes now, blow up my nose and tear out my lungs. This should be good preventative measures. Or I could watch more Dexter and see which gets me to kill myself first.
Bets?
24 October 2009
One Hell of a Mess in the Bed
The allergies are taking one hell of a toll on my body. I slept past 11am today, which even for me is a bit late. It took awhile for a plan to be made, but it ended up being IHOP, fetching Wikus, going to Ikea, taking Wikus to the FedEx office by the airport (to pick up foam of all things), then home for me to mosaic and the boys to work on soldering effect pedals. They finally got a pedal to work, just in time to leave for the Built to Spill/Dinosaur Jr show. I absolutely dislike Built to Spill, and I saw Dinosaur Jr at a day show a couple years ago during SXSW, and just don't really feel the compulsion to repeat the experience. It was nice to just keep mosaicing until I couldn't physically do any more.
Day four: still listening to a mix of The Magnetic Fields, 4.5 hours of work
Initially, we went to Ikea to get a new feather comforter. Mine is quite old, and the orange lover had peed on it several times. It doesn't really smell like cat pee any more, but it smells mildewy, and has a strange greasy feeling to it. It was a bit overwhelming to figure out what I wanted at Ikea since they had so many different options of feather blankets. I settled on a true feather one (not synthetic) that had a warmth level of 4 (levels are 1-6). On our way out we went through the light section. I love light pretty much for the same reason I love glass. I just can't get enough of it. However, most of Ikea's light don't cast enough to make it worth buying. Then I came across this little guy:
It's a very direct spot light on an awesome bendable stand. It's not flimsy at all, and stays exactly where I want it. Since I mosaic in the garage, I have the crappiest light for what I'm doing. I've been compromising on different light sources to accomplish my work, including using a flashlight to do back-lighting. This lamp makes it so I can at least shine a pinpoint of light directly on the area I am working on, and that made life just a little easier. It cost $30, but it was well worth it.
When we got home, The Boy went straight to the bedroom to drop off a body pillow he had purchased (he loves body pillows, to the point I call them his "girlfriends"). He soundly howls out for me to get to the bedroom, not in the way that made me fear a cat was dead, but in the way that let me know that it was something gross. Wikus was trying to get the orange lover back in the house, and I dropped everything in my hands since The Boy obviously didn't think I was running fast enough to the bedroom
As soon as I got to the doorway, the smell hit me. Sour baby poos. Evil-smelling poos. Poos that could only mean one thing, there was diarrhea somewhere in that room.
Remember how I went on about the wonderful new mattress we had purchased and the fancy sheets? Well, they were covered in diabetic-cat diarrhea. It was so awful. We were quick to blame each other for leaving Whoopis in the room all day, but I know it was The Boy. He was the last one in the room. He was still getting dressed way after me. He doesn't want to accept that it is his fault, but it totally is. I forgive him though, because he's the one who scraped the liquid poos in to the toilet and washed the sheets. I cleaned the mattress then Febreezed the fuck out of it.
Tonight I get to sleep on clean sheets and under a new comforter. It isn't a terrible way to end a hard day.
Day four: still listening to a mix of The Magnetic Fields, 4.5 hours of work
Initially, we went to Ikea to get a new feather comforter. Mine is quite old, and the orange lover had peed on it several times. It doesn't really smell like cat pee any more, but it smells mildewy, and has a strange greasy feeling to it. It was a bit overwhelming to figure out what I wanted at Ikea since they had so many different options of feather blankets. I settled on a true feather one (not synthetic) that had a warmth level of 4 (levels are 1-6). On our way out we went through the light section. I love light pretty much for the same reason I love glass. I just can't get enough of it. However, most of Ikea's light don't cast enough to make it worth buying. Then I came across this little guy:
It's a very direct spot light on an awesome bendable stand. It's not flimsy at all, and stays exactly where I want it. Since I mosaic in the garage, I have the crappiest light for what I'm doing. I've been compromising on different light sources to accomplish my work, including using a flashlight to do back-lighting. This lamp makes it so I can at least shine a pinpoint of light directly on the area I am working on, and that made life just a little easier. It cost $30, but it was well worth it.
When we got home, The Boy went straight to the bedroom to drop off a body pillow he had purchased (he loves body pillows, to the point I call them his "girlfriends"). He soundly howls out for me to get to the bedroom, not in the way that made me fear a cat was dead, but in the way that let me know that it was something gross. Wikus was trying to get the orange lover back in the house, and I dropped everything in my hands since The Boy obviously didn't think I was running fast enough to the bedroom
As soon as I got to the doorway, the smell hit me. Sour baby poos. Evil-smelling poos. Poos that could only mean one thing, there was diarrhea somewhere in that room.
Remember how I went on about the wonderful new mattress we had purchased and the fancy sheets? Well, they were covered in diabetic-cat diarrhea. It was so awful. We were quick to blame each other for leaving Whoopis in the room all day, but I know it was The Boy. He was the last one in the room. He was still getting dressed way after me. He doesn't want to accept that it is his fault, but it totally is. I forgive him though, because he's the one who scraped the liquid poos in to the toilet and washed the sheets. I cleaned the mattress then Febreezed the fuck out of it.
Tonight I get to sleep on clean sheets and under a new comforter. It isn't a terrible way to end a hard day.
23 October 2009
Day 3 of Even MORE Snot
The sad day has come where my boss, my sweet sarcastic boss has to move upstairs. The company is sorting out the pecking order, and felt that she was on too low of a level to be taken seriously. Read: We want to micromanage and keep an eye on you because your employees seem to actually respect you, and that makes us very nervous. She is moving up 5 flights. FIVE FLIGHTS! I'll never see her again. This means I will be left alone with Ex-cop, ECL and Twit. Ex-cop is supposed to be moving to an office even closer to me, which is sad since he is so loud, will only use the phone on speaker, and he'll have more chances to lay his eyes upon me and realize that he yet again has no idea what he's doing so he'll ask me to do it for him. However, it seems that he is trying to use his cop connections to stay where he is, which effects a large part of the move. He's such an ass.
A very nice lady helped my boss pack up her office, which stirred up a terrible amount of dust. I complained a lot and breathed through my jacket. My dust allergies are so bad, that my tongue actually starts swelling. Obviously this meant it was a great time to go sit in my dusty garage!
Today The Boy joined me in the garage and we rocked out to the Magnetic Fields together. He has such a nice deep hum to his voice, that really cancels out the shrill cartoony sound of my voice. He is working on soldering some effect pedals, and I was chatty, but I don't think he could concentrate well when I totally acted like a 5-year-old and asked every 3 minutes how soldering worked, and what does he do if he messes up, is it really hot, does it smell, whatcha doin'? I'm not used to company when I work, and it seems I can talk and mosaic at the same time. I'm just that talented. Even more so considering all the sneezing and wiping of my snot with my glass-dusted fingers. It's hella fun!
Day 3: mix of Magnetic Fields songs and 2.5 hours
Tomorrow I am going to go to town on this sucker. I expect to have the whole bottom finished. The colors are way better than they show up in the photo. Especially the purple. When the light shines through it, we're all going to have to hold our breath for fear of dying from the beauty.
A very nice lady helped my boss pack up her office, which stirred up a terrible amount of dust. I complained a lot and breathed through my jacket. My dust allergies are so bad, that my tongue actually starts swelling. Obviously this meant it was a great time to go sit in my dusty garage!
Today The Boy joined me in the garage and we rocked out to the Magnetic Fields together. He has such a nice deep hum to his voice, that really cancels out the shrill cartoony sound of my voice. He is working on soldering some effect pedals, and I was chatty, but I don't think he could concentrate well when I totally acted like a 5-year-old and asked every 3 minutes how soldering worked, and what does he do if he messes up, is it really hot, does it smell, whatcha doin'? I'm not used to company when I work, and it seems I can talk and mosaic at the same time. I'm just that talented. Even more so considering all the sneezing and wiping of my snot with my glass-dusted fingers. It's hella fun!
Day 3: mix of Magnetic Fields songs and 2.5 hours
Tomorrow I am going to go to town on this sucker. I expect to have the whole bottom finished. The colors are way better than they show up in the photo. Especially the purple. When the light shines through it, we're all going to have to hold our breath for fear of dying from the beauty.
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