Living Under The People Upstairs
a capitulation of the humor of it all…8 random things
The Queen has tagged me with some weird blog-chain-letter-type thing. This time I’m actually taking her bait, as I’ve been looking for a clever way to restore my idle blog. And, since I’m not as blog-savvy as those who come before me, I had to actually link back to find the rules (Thanks, Kathy, nice to meet you):
1. Link to the person who tagged you
2. Share seven random things about yourself
3. Tag seven random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs
4. Let each person know they’ve been tagged by leaving a comment on their blogs
SEVEN RANDOM THINGS ABOUT ME:
1. I once sat down and ate an entire jar of strawberry jam with a spoon.
2. I want to be an industrial designer.
3. Sometimes when I say or do something stupid, my brain automatically thinks “Control-X!!” Then it takes a second to realize that keyboard shortcuts don’t work in real life.
4. I can’t sleep without white noise in the background. And no, ocean waves and babbling brooks don’t count. I’m talking jet-engine-strength-fan type white noise.
5. I get irritated when people make a big deal out of Beethoven’s 5th just because it’s recognized. His 7th symphony is clearly superior.
6. I’ll clean anything and everything I can in the dishwasher.
7. I lied when interviewed for my current job. I was asked if I could program in some language and I misunderstood what I was being asked and enthusiastically replied, “Yes!” I’ve carried that guilt for almost 2 years, and now it’s off my chest. Whew.
I don’t have 7 random blogs to link to… I don’t even have one. I spend all my online time reading design articles. That makes 8 random things you now know about me:
8. I don’t always follow the rules.
the style
Recently, while looking through some of my photos, a friend noted that though my hair has changed over the years, it was always styled to cover one of my eyes. It made me remember…
I’d gone to a new salon after my regular stylist moved to Illinois. The woman doing my hair was chipper and unendingly chatty. She rattled on about her kids, her jewelry, the weather, and the headlines she read from the Everyday section of the Post- which, incidentally, she truly considered to be “news”. She had just begun to review her previous client when she suddenly paused. At first I thought she was merely breaking for a breath, but then I noticed her staring at my reflection in the huge mirror in front of us.
“Hmmm….” She trailed off. This made me nervous. The first time I actually wanted her to continue her sentence, and she was stuck thinking. She finally lapsed back into speech. “You know,” she drawled, “With your features, your hair would really look stunning like this-“ and she flipped a huge chunk of my hair over half of my face. “Yes! Stunning!”
I evaluated my new look in the mirror. I couldn’t see through one eye. “Does it matter which side?” I asked her.
“Nope!” was the cheerful response, and just to prove it, she cleared the vision from my left eye and swooped my locks to impair the right.
Let me tell you, there’s nothing that will boost your confidence more than a professional cosmetologist informing you that you’d look much better if half your face was hidden from the world. However, I took her advice. And- added bonus- if I ever have a pimple, I can simply swoop my hair over to that side and- voila!- instant perfect skin again.
an apology
To all my readers who- over the past month of my silence- have faithfully and relentlessly asked, “Is your blog working?” I apologize for my absence. The easy excuse would be to beg off on technical errors. Internet difficulties, server problems, bodies of text mysteriously tranforming themselves into Lorum Ipsum upon publishing; however, my blog has been in fine operating order.
The real reason for the lack of posts is the fact that I have been distracted. Work has received the bulk of my time and energy. On top of that, I have been working. And since a serious deadline looms just ahead, the remainder of my waking hours has been put towards work. And when you spend that much time attempting to convert horrid-looking graphics into less-horrid-looking graphics, you tend to walk away from your horrid output both humbled and uninspired.
Please check back for more horrid updates in the near future.
Thumper!
klingon clerisy: part I
Politician seeks votes in Klingon
Mon Mar 12, 2007 11:34 AM ET
HELSINKI (Reuters) - A Finnish member of parliament is aiming for re-election by campaigning with a translation of his Web site into Klingon, used in the TV series “Star Trek.”
“Some have thought it is blasphemy to mix politics and Klingon,” said Jyrki Kasvi, an ardent Trekkie. “Others say it is good if politicians can laugh at themselves.”
He said his politics posed some translation difficulties, since Klingon does not have words for matters such as tolerance, or for many colors, including green — the party under whose banner he is running in the national elections on March 18.
Non-warriors can also access the site, www.kasvi.org, in English, Swedish and Finnish.
it’s all about…
You’ve all heard me claim in jest, “It’s All About Robin.” Apparently I’ve been neglecting certain social spheres; I received this absolutely delightful email today and I have to share:
How can it be all about Robin when there is no Robin for it to be about?
Discussion: In the absence of Robin there must be a faith that a Robin still exists. One must move forward under a belief that Robin is still present, albeit unseen. For Robin is busy being for all the others that have Robin as their pinnacle being of existence. And lastly, even Robin must be all about Robin.
Debate: Arguably the absence of Robin for others to be about removes the guiding force of their existence. Thus - with no Robin to be about - lives would come to crashing halts. People would be directionless. Critical services would fail without impetus in the form of Robin. As this has not been the case, the world still turns, people rise in the morn and slumber in the evening, children are born and fortunes are made: It is not all about Robin.
Conclusion: Robin exists. It is all about Robin. Robin has granted free will to those who revolve around Robin as the Earth does the Sun. One can move forward without prove positive of Robin, yet still be true to the essence of it being all about Robin.
Thanks for the laugh, GG.
10 words I can’t spell
*Ten words, in no particular order, that spell-check (or Ellen) always catches me misspelling:
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Exercise
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Cinnamon
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Narration
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Their
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Categories
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Necessary
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Correspondence
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Mathematics
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Calendar
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Separation
Alright, readers. ‘Fess up.
wrong number
Unlike most, I am not a slave to my cell phone. I tend to blissfully forget I even own a cell phone until I actually need it- or until someone mentions that they called and (as usual) I didn’t answer.
But a single obtuse stranger has ended that peaceful existence for me. For over a month now, this idiot has been calling my phone as the wrong number. It began suddenly, one day she started and hasn’t stopped since.
She calls over and over and over again, oftentimes without pause, even after I tell her it’s the wrong number. When I turn my phone off, she leaves messages consisting of her typical communication: either angry-sounding curses or indiscernible slurred grunts while she rustles about in the kitchen or bushes or Mars or wherever she happened to be calling from.
I was polite, for the first 12 calls or so. It wasn’t until she started the profane shouting after her umpteenth consecutive “wrong number” that I really began getting frustrated. She’d cuss at me because she had the wrong number! I’ve tried every means possible to try to get this moron to stop calling me. Here are some examples:
1. “Wrong number.”
2. “Still. The Wrong, Number.”
3. “This is an emergency number for my aunt, who is on her deathbed. Don’t call it.”
4. “Apologize! Apologize! Apologize!”
5. “Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream.”
6. “Internal Revenue Service. How may I direct your call?”
7. ”Oh my GOD! The gun, it just- went off! There’s blood, all over, all over, blooood!!”
7. “Are you mentally ill? Are you mentally ill??
8. “Rosencrantz? Is that you? Can you hear me, from the Other Side? Rosencrantz??”
Why don’t I block her number? Believe me, I tried. I called SPRINT, my cell phone company, and was informed by the SPRINT customer service representative the phone model I have does not “possess 
that technology” to block an incoming caller. However, they would love to sell me a new phone, or for a mere $20 I can file a complaint- so ”the incident” will be on record. WTF?
This has become such a regular disruption to my life that I’ve assigned her a specific ringtone to identify her calls, and added her number to my contacts list; since I don’t know her real name, I figured “Stupid Bitch” would suffice just fine.
Several of my coworkers have been exposed to the exchanges I’ve had with Stupid Bitch. They have been supportive; we called Stupid Bitch on speaker phone and demanded she stop harassing me. Another friend touched base with some contacts at the phone company; they said I was SOL unless I wanted to call the police. Finally, last week I handed my ringing phone to Chuckles, who informed Stupid Bitch (in a firm, manly voice) that he was with the St. Louis Police Department, and that her number was being traced through my cell. She hung up, and didn’t call back.
For a day and a half, that is. After this weekend, I have 12 new messages (besides those from Saturday and the blank ones I’ve already deleted) to share with anyone who is interested. For my coworkers who suffer around me and my drama, perhaps I’ll bring donuts and we can make it a regular Monday-morning office event.
fill-in-the-blank
A friend recently emailed a batch of math funnies; very few which I’d seen before, and three that made me laugh out loud. (Thanks GG and christoph!)
They reminded of me of the first “final exam” I took upon returning to school, after my generous hiatus. Though I’d been serious about hitting the books, I realized that being ten years out of class had caused me to completely forget how to study. This initial final exam made that quite clear- although I’d been up all night preparing, I struggled with each and every question on that test.
The answer sheet was a ScanTron- the familiar ”fill in the bubbles with your #2 pencil.” About 30 minutes into the test, one perceptive student called attention to the fact that number 39 of the 40 questions required a fill-in-the-blank answer, which was not suitable for a ScanTron test. The instructor studied the question, and directed us to write in our response across the available A,B,C, and D bubbles, noting that he would grade #39 by hand.
Being one of the last ones to finish, I opted to wait after class to receive my grade- along with a few other geeks. As was his nature, the instructor handed my Scan-tron card to me without a word or a glance- with a bold red 90% at the top. I had barely made an A- one answer would have made the difference. I flipped the card over to check where I had neatly written my response to the single fill-in-the-blank question:
39) Robin is cool.
It was marked correct.
