I moved into a new office yesterday. The office itself is actually much nicer, it's in a quieter location, and it's got a little more cache than the old one.
Unfortunately, the woman who moved into the office directly adjacent to mine is a ghastly posterchild for Bring Your Gun To Work Day. Firstly, her perfume reeks. It's so bad that I assume she's marinating potpourri in turpentine for a few days, then bathing in it each morning. The whole suite of offices smells like a goddamn whore house, and she's only been here one day. There's about six offices here joined to a main atrium, and when you walk into the central room, it smells faintly of urine; or maybe a wild animal in full rut.
As if that's not enough, she's in her office right now singing. Okay, I don't give a shit if your Mariah fucking Carey; don't sing at the office. Who the hell behaves like that? She's a total hack too. I can't even recognize the song she's singing. It sounds like vocal Muzak, and that's before she starts faintly wailing along with the melody. Her voice reminds me of a violin being played with a hack saw.
Topping it all off is her ridiculous personality. A full-on Obnoxious Yankee, Jersey variety, early baby-boomer vintage. You know, the guttural raspy tone, weird giant jewlery (giant bracelets clanging around her wrists, giant earings weighing on her sagging giant ear lobes, giant teeth jutting out of her giant lower jaw - wait. That's not jewlery is it? Anyways, back at the ranch...), and one of those laughs that makes you want to punch a baby. Good Lord, how I would love to punch a baby right now.
The upside to all this, is that she's retiring in five or six weeks and they're already recruiting for her position. I can only hope that Fate and Irony will not collaborate against me, and find a replacement that's even worse. I mean, the only way to insure my sanity is to weasel my way into the interview process. At least then I can attempt to control who will be invading my space on a regular basis.
Is it just me, or does this song not make you damn near cry every time you hear it. I know nothing about this Cactus Cuties thing (it sounds really suspiciously dirty, if you ask my old perverted ass); but they sing it so nice.
I'd embed, but the embedable version just isn't as good as this one.
It doesn't matter if I'm standing on the field waiting to play, standing in the stands (or at home) waiting to watch a game, or just plain old hearing it at a ceremony - this song brings tears to my eyes. I think of my parents and grand parents and great grand parents; and the sacrifices and lives they lead and friends they lost so that I could (at the very least) have this song grace my ears. On a regular beautiful basis, mind you.
Pleasepleaseplease feel free to post links in the comments to other great renditions.
Via the Don Instapundit, the blogfather himself; a posthumous post from one of our men who died in Iraq recently defending freedom.
I put the post in the extended entry below, just because The Wife and I read it together and found it so moving that we had to do something to preserve it for posterity's sake; but if you don't follow the link, you'll be missing out on the links to Olmsted's own milblog.
No political commentary here please, in respect of Olmsted's wishes.
I work as an RN in a busy Emergency Room. One night recently I had an odd little man in one of my rooms. He had been retching for the last 2 hours in the waiting room and was continuing his gastric emptying. The catch is this-I walked by when he wasn't aware I was there and I see him with his fingers down his throat making himself puke. I don't know about you all, but I don't particularly care for the bulimia lifestyle-my stomach contents need to stay put.
Shortly after witnessing this, I was called into a trauma and when I returned the man had finally quit with the puking. I went into the room and began to check his vital signs again and get his story. Somewhere in his long story about smoking since he was 9 years old (now in his mid 40's) and his current ailments he shows me a sore on his arm. The conversation, pretty much verbatim was this:
"A dang 'ole spawder bit mee. I jest laynced et wif mah knife to git da poison out. Then ah leet mah dawg lick it."
(trying not to let my disgust and dinner be visible)
"Huh, interesting. Why did you decide to do that?"
"Weel, dawgs mouts is cleener dan humans."
"That may be sir, but all the same, I'd use peroxide next time."
The Wife, RN: "...and that's okay, because I know I get on your nerves too sometimes."
shank: "Sweetheart, you never get on my nerves."
The Wife, RN: "You lying cuntass fucktard."
shank: "I love you too dear."
~ ~
(Dancing to romantic music)
shank: "Hey, it's going to be okay. Why are you crying? We're going to have kids and they're going to be fine!"
The Wife, RN (crying): "But what if our kid has an imperforate asshole?"
shank (falls over, laughing hysterically): "A what?" (choking laugher) "Wouldn't that be a blessing, considering his gaseous lineage!?"
So, for the second time in approximately a week, I almost burned the house down. And once again, it happened while I was left at home unsupervised. Well, Dad was there, but he's about as much help in the kitchen as a Yugo at a tractor pull.
The Wife was finishing her day shift down at the bar, and the old man and I were at the house preparing the compulsory Super Bowl fare: homemade potato chips, black bean salsa, and Buffalo wings. The Wife was born and raised in Buffalo, so the wings (and football) are a pretty big deal around here. Dad worked on the salsa while I deep fried the thinly sliced potatoes. We were moving along at a pretty good clip for a spaz and a kitchen-illiterate widower, so I decided to start the wings. I mean, I figured The Wife would think it considerate of me that I went ahead and started the wings, instead of waiting for her to get home from work and do it. I'd seen her do it countless times before, and had gotten a general recipe from her over the phone; so I figured I was all set. So the old man finished the salsa and went to watch the beginning of the game while I took care of the wings.
I let the fryer heat back up, and when ready, I plopped about ten wings into it. The damn thing promptly started foaming and spitting like a jungle cat. Within a second or two, the sound was deafening and boiling oil was flowing steadily out of the kettle, all over the counter, and onto the floor. "Dad. Dad! DAD I NEED SOME HELP!" Luckily, deep friers are made with morons in mind; and come equipped with magnetic power cords that can be unplugged easily. I snatched the cord out of the socket, and the crackling died down considerably. We both kind of stood there, absorbing the absolute mess. It took us most of a half hour to clean the oil off of everything.
Upon returning home and hearing our tale, The Wife gave me a frightened look. "Can you imagine what this place is going to be like when we have kids? Should we even have kids at all!?"
"Well, yeah we should have kids. I mean, I don't think I could bear telling people we had to hire a babysitter just for me!"
When I say this story is true, I'm saying it's true. Not only factually true, but universally true. Sometimes you have to make decisions immediately. Sometimes you make good ones, and sometimes you burn the living room carpet. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Awww yeah, bitches. Y'all remember the drunken movie reivew! Today's installment - V For Vendetta
What can I say? Natalie Portman as Yentle. Hottest damn bald chick since Sigourney Weaver in Aliens.
And talk about your kick-ass leads. 'V' has it all going on - bitchin' karate moves, Keeanuesque attire noir, and a Guy Fawkes mask.
Which reminds me - Guy Fawkes - what the fuck's up with that? A guy (pun intented) tries to overthrow the British government, gets caught, executed, and they make a holiday for him. Where's our Benedict Arnold holiday? Dammit, this has to be rectified! They're already 15 to 20 holidays ahead of us!
Why can't we have Boxing day? We've had more world champion boxers than the damned poms anyway!
Where the hell was I?
Oh, yeah - If nothing else, this movie gave Malcolm McDowell another chance to act. It deserves props for that if nothing else.
Go rent it today. And send me a dollar if you like it.*
Project Black Widow has claimed another life. That brings the total body count to 4 and a half for managers and above. (One fellow was "lucky" enough to escape. Unfortunately the horse he rode off on turned out to be Project Widowmaker.)
This puts Black Widow way out in front of Project Lizzie Borden. Lizzie has a measly 2 so far. Then again, BW will actually be closing in the next half year. Lizzie could be morphing into a four year global implementation. That would give her plenty of time to catch up and pass the Widow.
Now don't go thinking that the only projects I handle are career killers. I just commissioned project Fluffy Green Leaves. Unfortunately, after defining the business case, it became apparent that the leaves were raw spinach from California.
In other job news I've been offered a promotion of sorts. I'd still be a project manager for all of my current projects but would also coordinate all projects for our largest internal client. More work, same pay, same title, but fantastic leverage and networking opportunities. The down side is I'd have less time for blogging.
Decisions...decisions...decisions...
In the middle of my second day of all day meetings about how to beat project Lizzie Borden into a semblance of order I received an instant message from another one of my clients.
Carol says: do you or any of your cronies know if we're moving to IPv6? it's a discussion topic in one of my classes this week.Jim says: IPv6 has been an approved standard for a decade. Nobody is going to go through the pains of implementing it until we’re all out of IP addresses. Then it will be a huge rush to implement, just like Y2K compliance was. There will be much wailing and gnashing of teeth. Doomsayers will spin tails of woe about all electronic transactions failing and the crash of the Internet porn industry causing global financial collapse.
Jim says: Then after nothing much happens for a while the news will refocus on terrorism and the latest Gallup poll showing that 47% of registered voters really aren’t qualified to pick their noses much less a president and the whole IPv6 story will fade to its proper place as a Trivial Pursuit question.
Carol says: you're a bit cynical
Jim says: Flatterer!
Two things jumped out at me when I reread this. First, I'm the only person I know who uses capitalization and punctuation in instant messages. Second, I'm a geek of godlike proportions.
I'd spent Tuesday and Wednesday out of the office at management seminars. You know, those time honored boredom marathons that become sound more and more alike with each passing quarter.
So I got up this morning with a real fire under my ass. I was looking forward to going into my office, shutting the door, and getting some work done. No interruptions, no drop-by shootings ("Hey! Can I just have a minute of your time buddy?"), no bullshit. I'm up at seven and leaving the house at 7:15. Seriously, hair gelled, teeth brushed, the whole deal. I'm from a military family and was trained at a young age to shit, shower, and shave in five minutes or less.
I get to the commuter lot, hop out of the car and realize two things. Firstly, I'd forgotten my lunch. I pack food everyday so I have the option of eating something that's not meant to kill me from the inside out. Shit. Secondly, I've forgotten to wear a belt. Again with the shit. I decide neither item is worth driving back home for. I'll find a salad somewhere, and the slacks I wore weren't center-button; so I decided to keep truckin.
I briskly walk across the lot, jump on the bus, and check my pocket for the office keys. Shit. Nobody's going to be there this early, so if I don't have them I'm going to have to bother some security guard to key me in. I ask the two or three folks waiting in the bus to not let it leave without me. I'm speedwalking, walksprinting back to my car. Unlock, check the console...Oh, sweet Jesus the keys are there! I'm in a dead walkrun back to the bus, make it just in time; and flop down in the seat.
Whew.
Then I hear the man sitting behind me lean forward and whisper in my ear, "Hey man, your zipper's down." I fight the urge to have a fit wherein I throw my shoulderbag across the bus, emptying it's contents on several passengers; and throw random fists. Fists of fury.
"Thanks," I say to the guy. I actually mustered an honest laugh. I mean, what the hell else could I do, right?
Besides, like we don't all play a little pocket pool in rush hour traffic every once in a while. Seriously, that could be the only explanation for the way you people drive.
This is totally random, but I figured what the hey.
The Wife and I cleaned the house from top to bottom a few weekends ago. I mean, made a pile of shit to give away to goodwill and a pile of shit to throw out. You know, cleared out the garbage and used the created space to organize those things which we've actually used in the past year or so.
However, we ended up with a small pile of things that we felt would be stupid to bring to The Salvation Army, but equally stupid to just chuck in the trash. If you're interested in more details of the following objects, or seeing photos of them; just email me.
If any of the four people who read this blog actually take any of this stuff off my hands, I'll come back and update to avoid confusion. I'm not listing any prices because it's totally negotiable (and by that I mean, all the way down to $0); though I'd expect the buyer to pay shipping. Actually, there's only one item with a price tag.
With the doubling in size of our company comes a corresponding increase in the workload for those of us in the Project Management and Quality Assurance department. Fortunately we are taking measures to grow our department to meet the needs. Unfortunately that means I'm back in the interviewer seat for a large chunk of my exceptionally scarce time. As a public service to job seekers and an attempt to make my life easier, I present Jim's Rules of the Interview:
First, the resume:
1. Proof your resume. Proof it again. Hand it to your spouse / significant other / mom / nearby hobo (hobos will work for beer so it's very cheap) and have them proof it. There should be exactly zero spelling errors on your resume. When you are applying for a position with heavy documentation duties there is even less tolerance than that.2. Don't mix cases. "Proofed corporate news documentation and implemented a redaction policy" is good. "Performed systems evaluation tests and modifying active test plans" is bad.
3. I have a limited time slot to conduct the actual interview. There are questions I have to ask and questions that I want to ask. The ones I have to ask are the same as the ones every other interviewer has to ask. Answer those on the resume. Tell me why you left IBM. Tell me why you want to leave Sprint. Pull your major accomplishments and essential qualifications out and put them right at the start of your resume. Put a one-line description of what the companies you worked at actually do. Nobody except you and the other four people who work there know what "Synergy Systems, LLC" is or does.
It's true. It happened on Wednesday. I was leveraging around for a scratch and put a bit too much pressure on it. I felt it bend a bit awkwardly but didn't think anything serious had happened.
When I whipped it out yesterday morning I saw the damage. The tip was bent over at a 15% angle. I straightened it out but there must be something wonky in the area where the tip and the shaft meet. As soon as I start using it the damn thing bends over again.
This is very distressing for me. I use the hell out of it - multiple times a day, sometimes for hours at a time. I like a precision instrument. Even if I'm just messing around with it I expect it to perform perfectly. Now my aim is all off and I don't even like using it anymore.
Lovely Wife bought me some "replacement units" a while back. I can use one of those to take care of critical tasks but it's just not the same. They don't have the smooth feel of my original equipment and (not to brag) they're smaller. They don't fit very well in the receptacle either, if you get my meaning.
Speaking of original equipment, that poses some problems all by itself. I'm not saying that mine is one of a kind but I guarantee they aren't making any like it any more. Trust me, I've Googled it. (Interesting images in that search, by the way.) I've been sending messages to the creator to see if there's any way to get mine repaired or replaced with equivalent equipment but I never got an answer back.
So, anybody know where I can get a replacement stylus for a Dell Axim 4 PDA?
To celebrate the new year my company bought itself a large travel company in the UK and a larger one in Germany, catapulting us from the second largest business travel company in the USA to the third largest in the world.
As you might expect the workload for Enterprise Technology in general, and the Project Management / Quality Assurance group in particular, has not decreased. In fact, you would not be incorrect if you guessed that our workload has increased substantially. It's one of the reasons I haven't been posting a whole lot. Where I used to get up bright and early, read a bit, write a bit, shit, shower and shave, I am now catching up on emails and project statuses, shitting, showering and shaving. I've tried to eliminate one or more of the "S" class morning tasks to make room for more blogging but have had mixed results with such experimentation.
But help is on the way, and the sooner the better. We have authorization to hire a QA Manager, 2 Project Managers and a Business Analyst. Experience in the travel industry is a plus but not a grand requirement. Similarly, living in the Atlanta area is a plus (that's where HQ and our department are located) but not required. We also have departmental offices in Chicago and Kansas City (Missouri).
So, who wants a job? If you want more detail on any of these just give a holler.
Well, he would be if he was alive. Just look at the quality of this piece of juvenile art!
(Click here to see it in all its majesty.)
The part that looks like the tree trunk is exploding is water damage. Can you guess which Peacock household prodigy is the artist of this original marker masterpiece?
We'll do some points here...the point pool will be equal to the total number of players. The points in the pool will be split amongst the players who get the answer right.
Bacon also has a pig. It's name is Blanket (Named as such because it was under a blanket when I asked Bacon what its name was. At least it's more creative than "Piggy".) and it is a plush piggy bank. It did some initial service as an actual piggy bank but was somehow defective. Any money we put in there would seep out (through osmosis we think as Bacon swore he never took a coin out of it) and get lost so we eventually stopped putting money into it. Blanket serves as one of Bacon's favored stuffed animals, along with a kennel's worth of little bean bag puppies.
Bacon: I've got a new puppy!!Lovely Wife: You do? Where did it come from?
Bacon: It's Blanket's baby. It was in her tummy and then it was born.
Me: Your pig had puppies out of wedlock?
Bacon: Just one.
Me: Alrighty then.
So we've got one son incestuously wed to his baby sister pig and another fathering bastard pig dogs. I'm just thankful we never got a pig for Bear. They're a very bad influence.
Burger has a piggy. He cherishes Piggy (Okay, not the most creative name. Give him a break, he wasn't even a year old when he named it.) and it alternately holds roles as little sister or baby. He's had it since he was a wee tot. Once it was the cutest, softest stuffed animal in the world. He loves it fiercely though and the pig has suffered over the years. Like the Velveteen Rabbit its coat is worn smooth. It has had many surgeries, once it was even brought to the School of Veterinary Science at UGA for repairs. Its coat became too thin for sutures to hold so it has many skin grafts (duct tape) as well. It is, in a word, "used".
The scene: We are driving in the van on the way to the farmer's market. Burger brought Piggy along for the ride.Burger: I married Piggy yesterday.
Lovely Wife: You married Piggy?
Burger: Yup. Yesterday.
Me: Eww. Isn't that like ... incest?
Burger: Nope. She was the princess. I was the king.
I guess it's okay then. Royalty does as royalty does and they've been marrying cousins or worse for generations. The Pharoahs married their sisters after all and, with all of those duct tape repairs, Piggy does somewhat resemble a mummy.
The Scene: Lovely Wife is typing away at her computer. Bacon comes up to her with a marker and a blank piece of paper.
Bacon: Momma, how do you spell "Everybody stay out of my room especially Burger"?
Lovely Wife: [stifles laugh] Ummm...it's "E-V-E-R-Y-B-O-D-Y S-T-A-Y O-U-T O-F M-Y R-O-O-M E-S-P-E-C-I-A-L-L-Y B-U-R-G-E-R".
Bacon: [wearing a crestfallen expression] Oh. That's a lot.
Lovely Wife: Yes, it is.
Bacon turns and walks out of the room, dispirited at the effort required to make his sign. Late the same evening Lovely Wife noticed a sign, carefully lettered and taped to Bacon's door. The resourceful lad had rethunk his requirements and reduced scope on his sign project. The completed work read:
NO BURGER!
I've been pretty quiet lately so I figured I'd pipe up and let y'all know what's current.
Monday was our seventh wedding anniversary. I took Lovely Wife to the newly opened Georgia Aquarium. Highlights included skipping the 2 hour wait for security by taking advantage of some severely harried guards, smuggling in contraband and drinking beer with lunch. No, those last two aren't related - they sell beer at the aquarium café. Unfortunately they don't sell fish there. They could make a killing if they sold some fish fry. After looking at fish for a couple of hours I was dying to eat one.
Dinner didn't work out as planned. We were out of the aquarium earlier than we expected so we went Christmas shopping. Our travels ended up putting us quite a distance from our target restaurant when the hunger finally hit. We opted for a shorter journey to a different restaurant that we'd been meaning to try. We hunted for it, finally surrendered and called 411 to find it, arrived and found it closed. Closed as in "out of business" closed. That was a bummer. We ended up at our family favorite restaurant.
I'm currently reading A Feast for Crows, a Christmas present from Helen. Helen continues to kick ass in a seriously hardcore way. Thanks, Helen! :-)
I continue to despise taking a crap at work. My bowels tell me that I'll be doing so a bit later this morning. Feh.
The boys visited the dentist. Bear has an extra set of teeth up top that'll need to be removed. He also had two adult teeth coming in but trapped behind a couple of baby teeth that refused to relinquish occupancy. Tooth extraction was scheduled. Over the weekend I offered him $5 if could remove one (it was wiggly) before the big day. He took the challenge, earned himself $5 and saved us $80. The other tooth turned wiggly too so we cancelled the extraction and will let nature take it's course.
Work continues to be demanding. I'm taking over four projects from a coworker who's a bit overloaded. Oddly enough, two of them are ones she took over from me several months ago when my mega project became too demanding.
After Friday I'm off for 10 days in a row. Ten days in a row? Damn, I haven't seen that since high school. To be specific, ten days off and then having a job at the end of it hasn't been seen. Ten days off due to job loss has happened a couple of times.
Dopple-G and his fiance came over last night bearing gifts. The boys were thrilled with their presents and spent the better part of an hour finding plastic toys and bottle caps to wrap up in order to return the favor.
That's about it for the moment. More later. But probably not today.
Last night I found this true story about the worst Christmas party I ever attended. In the end I triumphed. Sort of. It was dated December 2003 and I’ve no idea if I ever posted it or not. Reflecting back on those days, a case could certainly be made that I was an asshole.
It’s that time of year again. In order to make things easy on you, and insure that I get exactly what I want, I offer the following shopping guide:
I need some decent earphones for the iPod. The stock earphones are uncomfortable and lack the required dynamic range for maximum enjoyment.
Sony Fontopia MDR-EX70LP Earphones
Price: $49.99
These are available online from many retailers so order now to avoid an uncomfortable wait on my part.
I’d also like something to help me wind down from a hard day at work. There’s an add-on to Rome Total War, the video game I have driven into the ground. It’s called Barbarian Invasion Expansion Pack, $24.99 on Amazon.
If you could make these two happen I’d be happy.
Aside from that, you could always make a deposit into my ‘special account’ at the bank, you know the account number.
Last, but certainly not least, can we just buy this damned thing and get it over with? I swear by all that is holy that you can drive it on Saturdays.
Please have the courtesy to make a similar list for me. We don’t want a replay of the shoe incident, do we?
True Story (from my original blog):
The women’s shoe store. We were Christmas shopping together and she took me in and pointed them out. I looked down at them.
"Look closely."
"Okay," I said.
"Do you see the heel?" she asked.
"Yes, I see it."
"And the toe? See the difference?" She held up another shoe.
"Don't worry. I understand."
We left the mall. Several days later I went Christmas shopping alone. I had bought her every gift on her list. Only the shoes remained. I went back to the store, back to the exact spot where the shoes were. But they all looked the same.
Granted, I tend to tune out when people talk to me. I'm in my own world most of the time. I guess I wasn't paying attention. And now I'm looking down at these shoes and every pair looks the same. I tried to guess the exact spot I was standing in when she showed them to me, thinking I might find the right ones by dead reckoning, but I had no distinct landmarks. Meanwhile, it's a few days before Christmas and the place was packed. These things were flying out of there. Women were grabbing shoes and holding them up over their heads yelling sizes. I had been at the mall for a long time. I was hungry. I was tired. I had no hope. I picked a pair and bought them. I was certain I had narrowed it down to two pair and I chose one.
Fast-forward to Christmas day. All the presents opened except for one box. She opened the box and took out a shoe. Not only was it the wrong one, but it was the one she used as example of what she specifically did not want. She went berserker. I thought at one point that she would actually beat me with the shoe.
That was about five years ago. She still reminds me of it constantly. She uses it as an example when she points things out in stores now. And every time she brings it up, it is with the same intensity as that first time when she opened the box.
You really can't imagine.
The best thing about Wednesday is that there's usually no turds waiting to greet me in my toilet when I get home. Two out of the three boys have "flushing issues" (guess which ones). On Wednesdays my Lovely Wife takes the kids to a neighborhood homeschooling thing so they're not in the house much. Plus, the chief perpetrator (guess which one) makes it a point to poop over there.
Robitussin messes my shit up. I've got a bit of a chest cold and took some before bed last night. The objective was to prevent coughing so I could sleep. Wrongo. It worked on the coughing but I journeyed through the evening in and out of sleep, coming out of and back in to a seriously freaky dream about linear scaling and druidic ceremonies.
My biggest project is losing its chief architect. The guy who designed the entire system that it's being built on. Just as it's starting to get built. The guy who's taking over is very good too, but doesn't have nine months invested in crafting the application. If that isn't enough to bother me there's the fact that today is his last day and I found out about it yesterday. From my client. I'm finding new levels of pissedoffedness to master.
I had six days off in a row (Thanksgiving through Tuesday). Out of a "to do" list a half yard long I accomplished...nothing. Curiously, that gave me a wonderful sense of accomplishment.
It's "World Aids Day". How are you planning to celebrate?
Yeah, that was pretty cold of me. I just lost all respect for these things when they added "Pretzel Appreciation Day", "Hotrod Month" and "Give NAMBLA a Try Week".
The big question will be how many people burn down their house this year trying to deep fry a heavy frozen bird inside their house.
Most people don’t have the common sense to put the bird in, fill the fryer with oil and then take the bird out and get the oil hot. Instead, the fill the fryer with too much oil, get it close to the temperature of the sun and throw in a thirty pound, partially frozen Butterball. When that thing hits the oil it goes up like Michael Jackson’s hair on a Pepsi shoot, not including the displaced oil that splashes out of the fryer and onto linoleum, which I believe is extruded from petroleum products. Last year something like 400 homes caught fire attempting this trick and I predict the numbers will double this year.
In days of old, boiling oil was a great weapon when poured over the castle walls. Imagine the potential in the average American kitchen. Somebody’s Uncle Frank will probably learn a lesson the hard way.
Aside from the skin, I have no use for turkey. I find it unappealing in taste and texture.
But even though I don’t care for turkey, I am a fan of Thanksgiving. I’ll be at the in-law’s with many friends in tow and the drinking always starts early. We usually drink champagne on the holidays and no one is about to complain that it’s too early to drink when you’re uncorking the good stuff. We generally stand around in the kitchen patting each other on the back and swilling drinks and demanding to be fed.
I find the waiting to be the biggest problem. That’s because my family are liars. The day before we always call over to see what time we’re eating. They’ll say 2:00PM, when they know damned well it won’t be until 4:00PM. They lie because they want to spend time with us, which is odd, because I can’t comprehend anyone wanting to spend time with us.
On the way over there I guarantee that some doofus will be outside hanging his Christmas lights, which will start my wife up and I’ll have to listen to how I’d better get our shit up right away and not wait too long like last year. And when we finally arrive we’ll walk in on a shouting match about the turkey, and how it’s not cooking fast enough or hot enough, or when the tin foil should be taken off to brown the skin, even though it won’t be ready for hours.
So we stand around the kitchen and drink champagne until a card game breaks out or we can start poaching food. Some will sneak out for a smoke, others will incite slanderous talk about other relatives and the majority will bitch and moan about anything that comes to mind. And when the bird is done everyone will argue about the proper way to carve it and how this family, “doesn’t have a goddamned sharp knife” and there won’t be enough of the same type of plates for everyone and it will ruin the photos.
Somehow, I find comfort in all this. There we are, all together and complaining as a family. It’s hard to describe. And when the time comes to trot the bird out everyone takes on a solemn demeanor and we go around the table and everyone expresses what they’re thankful for this year. I never use to participate and this whole thing used to make me very uncomfortable. The first couple of years tried to hide in the bathroom for this part but they refused to start until everyone was seated. Nowadays I don’t mind so much. I have a lot to be thankful for.
Since I don’t eat turkey I’ll fill up on my old lady’s pecan crusted sweet potato pie and mashed potatoes and gravy and swill more champagne. And towards the end, when the pumpkin pie comes out I’ll fill half my coffee cup with good cognac and reflect on the fact I don’t have to work the next day. And while the mess is being cleaned I’ll sit there with my daughter on my lap and plan a graceful exit strategy as the old lady packs up as much of the leftovers as she can before her siblings can get it all.
And when we get home and put the kid to bed I’ll pour myself a single malt and sit on my lazy ass—sated—as my wife and I look through the pay channels for amusement.
Happy Thanksgiving.
“Daddy, I want to eat lunch there,” she said as she pointed out the window.
I looked up and saw that she was pointing at Taco Bell. This was a strange development. We’ve driven by the place a thousand times since we lived in these parts but have never stopped. I had no intention of doing so this time either.
“Daddy, stop! You said we were on a date and I could pick where we eat!”
“That’s because you’ve been reasonable up to now. You pick Wendy’s every week.”
“But today I don’t want Wendy’s. I want that!”
I swung around and pulled into the parking lot. After ten minutes of reasonable discussion we went inside, against my better judgment. Soon afterward we sat at a table and unwrapped our bounty, which was somewhat disturbing. I have a thing about Mexican food. I like it a lot. I’d lived in California long enough to know good Mexican food and my expectations were minimal—but this was hideous. I made the mistake of looking inside my burrito and it appeared to be made out of brown paste.
“Mine looks like dog food.”
“Daddy, stop saying bad things and eat your lunch.”
I hadn’t been to a Taco Bell in roughly fifteen years. I had no idea what to order so I got four burrito supremes. I could only stomach three of them and it was tough getting them down but I was starving.
An hour later I was watching the game when the storm hit. The first wave wasn’t as violent as I thought it would be, but the next wave had all the elements of a classic green meat attack. I’ll spare you the details, but I was in there long enough to miss almost an entire quarter of the Eagles game. The kid was unfazed and unaffected. The entire time I was on the throne she was drawing pictures and shoving them under the door, which might have cheered me up if they weren’t pictures of doggies eating Taco Bell.
She kept singing, “Fart, fart, fart, FART…fart, fart, fart, FART.” To the tune of the opening of Beethoven’s fifth symphony and then laughing hysterically.
I refused to reply.
My wife eventually got in on the act, humiliating me even further, before taking a more serious note and rattling off a long list of chores that needed to be done, including measuring the windows for the new window treatments and taking the car to the dealership on Monday. All while I sat there, depressed and cramping, and wishing I was someplace else. If you can’t get some peace in there, there’s truly no hope. I stayed in there until they had gotten bored and gone about their business. And I slinked back to the couch and pretended to be asleep for a while.
And thus, another Sunday gone the way of Hades. Mocked by my family and frowned upon by the gods.
Acta est fabula, plaudite!
UPDATE 10/26 (see extended entry)
'Tis the season for spooks and scares, and some good laughs. Anyone out there have a good story they'd like to share about scaring someone, or being scared by someone? Are you the I-don't-scare type that once flipped out in a haunted house when someone grabbed you? Fondly remembering scaring your little sister so much she wet herself? Were you that little sister that grew up and screamed so loudly during a scary movie that your brother and his popcorn went flying off the sofa? Let's hear your stories!
My stepson jumped three feet off the couch and yelled SHIT! when my wife crept behind him and grabbed his shoulder during the final scene of Carrie.
She made ME jump three feet when she let out a piercing shriek (on purpose, mind you) during the scene in The Hand That Rocked The Cradle when the husband's hand came from behind the stairs and grabbed the wife's ankle.
Others?
Did Microsoft release Sign Generator XP or something? Get a load of this beauty that's up in front of our office building right now.
Anybody care to posit the two word phrase that would be superior to this verbose and wandering phraseology?
All three boys have done the bulk of their growing up here in Atlanta but only Burger was conceived and born natively. Sometimes it shows.
Me: Everybody ready? Let's get in the van and get going.[Kids begin climbing into the vehicle.]
Me: Woah there, Burger! You've got to finish that soda before you get in the van. Drink it or toss it.
[Burger looks up at me like I am a complete moron. A complete moron who has deeply offended him.]
Burger: It's not a SODA. It's a COKE.
I ended up holding it for him while we drove home. It being a COKE and all, we couldn't let it go to waste.
Diamond Dave here, throwing in his two cents worth.
My wife works at Georgia Tech at night. She was witness to some of the relief efforts going on there for the storm refugees from La/Miss. Some of the things she heard and saw concerning these efforts upset her greatly. Here is a copy of the email she sent me, which she also sent to various news organizations:
Mass hysteria gripped Atlanta yesterday. It started with a broadcast by Governor Sonny "Not the chicken guy" Purdue. In a move that could best be called ill advised, he went on the air to say that the fuel supply to northern Georgia had been compromised but people were working on it and it would all be back to normal in a couple of days.
People freaked. There was a generalized run on the gas stations. Prices started skyrocketing.
Sonny went back on the air to say there was no emergency and that people should calm down. The compromised fuel supply was actually only 20% of our normal fuel delivery (most of our fuel is shipped in and then trucked), it was only a temporary problem, the worst that could happen would be a two day shortening of Atlanta's normal 10 day fuel reserves. People should stay home and play with their kids instead of spending hours in a line at a gas station.
This message came way too late and did nothing to counter the alarm generated by his earlier message. By then prices had topped $3.50 in most places and some stations were running out of gas. People freaked more. Prices went higher. More stations ran out of gas. People went into gas panic frenzies.
The panicked jackasses continued the run on gas through the rush hour and later. By the time it was over the price of a gallon had spiked over $5 in some locations. The highest I saw on my ride home was $4.19.
This morning the talking heads were out. The AAA regional manager explained that in the best of circumstances if everybody filled up on the same day we would likely run out of gas in the area. Fortunately only about 60% of the people in Atlanta are morons so we are in a shortage situation now instead of a crisis situation.
On my way into work this morning about 80% of the stations were out of gas. The ones that did have some left were selling for between $2.89 and $3.19 with one discrepant station still trying to get $4.09. None of them had many customers, of course.
Stupid people irritate me. Stupid people who affect my life anger me. Stupid people who affect my life by costing me money really piss me the hell off.
For more on the situation see Trey about The Price of Gas or my Lovely Redneck Wife about the Crazy People.
For somebody to say the devastation in New Orleans is God's punishment for their sins and depravity. I know it's coming. I know it's already been said somewhere, probably many somewheres, I've just been avoiding the places where it's most likely to happen so I've been able to miss it.
But eventually, somewhere, whether it's on the street, waiting in line at the store, in the break room or while out having a smoke, I'm going to hear those fateful words.
And then I'm going to punch that person right in the throat.
UPDATE: Not sure how I got back into it but I did and this is topical again. The game is on!
I had an interesting imaginary conversation with our normally sweet though rabidly lefty neighbor. It went something like this:
Neighbor: I can't believe you voted against Kerry in the primary.[Note - I'm not a registered Democrat but in Georgia all voters may vote in whichever primary they choose to. Since voting for or against Bush in the Republican primary was a moot point I voted in the Democratic primary.]
Me: I don't like him. If Bush loses I want the person who is President to be the best possible candidate and Kerry isn't that candidate.
Neighbor: IIIIIIFFFFF Bush loses?!?!?! Of course he's going to lose! We're going to knock that lying bastard out of the White House!
Me: Oh, Lordy. You aren't one of those "Bush lied, people died" folk are you?
Neighbor: Of course. He did lie and those lies led directly to people dying so damn straight "Bush lied, people died".
Me: What lie did he tell?
Neighbor: He talked about all of...
Me: Woah! I didn't ask what he talked about. I want to know what he actually said.
Neighbor: He said that...
Me: Stop! I don't want to hear that "He said that...", I want to hear what he himself personally said. What literal lie came out of his mouth?
Neighbor: I'm trying to tell you what he said!
Me: No, you're trying to tell me an interpretation of what he said. Tell me the exact words that came out of his mouth that were deliberate and calculated untruths.
Neighbor: Nobody knows exact words. That's crazy. I couldn't give you the exact words for this conversation we're having right now.
Me: Anybody who wants to can have the exact words that Bush said. They are all recorded for posterity and publicly available. Let's forget about knowing the actual words for a moment. Have you yourself heard the actual words?
Neighbor: Don't patronize me. I keep informed, Jim. I do listen to the news and read the paper.
Me: I know you do, otherwise I wouldn't bother to have this conversation with you. I'm serious here - have you yourself heard and recognized a lie out of Bush's mouth? Have you read his actual words, uncut, unexerpted and un-ellipsed and seen a lie there? Or are you propagating a personal attack on a man based solely on what third parties have said.
Neighbor: [Fuming silence]
Me: Okay, why don't we pick this up later after you've had some time to do some research?
So I've got a challenge to anybody and everybody who's part of the "Bush lied, people died" crowd. This is not sarcastic and it's not meant to denigrate anybody. I've seen dozens of people who I respect react with this knee-jerk slogan. I myself have never seen or heard an intentional untruth from Bush. If he actually did lie then the proof of it is out there. Show me. Prove it. If you are willing to mouth the words against the man then the least you can do as a person of honor is to verify that what you are saying about him is true. Since you'll be out doing that for your own peace of mind, share it with me here when you are done.
Here's what I'm looking for:
- Actual literal quotes from George Bush
- They must be in context, unedited, un-ellipsed, unmodified in any way. Exactly as they came from the horse's mouth, so to speak.
- They must be linked and referenced. I must be able to go and view the source for myself.
- They must contain intentional fallacies that directly led to US forces going to war in Iraq.
Leave them in the comments to this post. Each instance of a qualifying Bush lie that is reported here will be rewarded with a Snooze Point or two and the eternal thanks of the masses.
Three weeks of the most intense development imaginable. Two separate groups of subject matter experts flown in. Two UI developers, 2 DBAs and 4 contractors working hell shifts and weekends for 10 days. Three completely new component systems learned and implemented. Four new technologies developed. A last minute 100% setback. A brief reprieve. And then...
The demo was a smashing success.
The top 20 officers in the company saw just what our developers can do when given their heads and qualified direction. There was oohing and aahing. There were exclamations at the speed of our product (504 page reports off a 17 million record set live database in under 4 seconds).
They did not approve our proof of concept for development. Although we met every reporting requirement we were tasked with we failed to meet the invisible requirements of matching the back-office capability of the very expensive preferred vendor. That capability took a score of hungry Romanians two years to develop so there's no way we could do it inside the 6 month implementation deadline. 7 months, maybe - they're only Romanians after all.
But all is not lost. Enterprise Development got to show off big time for the biggest brass in the company. Many of the tech advances and components from the proof of concept will get used in other applications. Our street cred is huge now. Our collective ballsacks are silky smooth and engorged with massive testosterone loads ready to fire at the slightest provocation.
We kicked serious ass.
Just when I say I'm on hiatus, I make a post. Behold the dichotomy of Jim.
I give you...Xtreme Paper Disposal:
By the way, I got me a new mini-digital.
I just got a trackback spam for "oral sex for women". What the hell is that?
Tuesday through Friday were all-day meetings at work. Every day. The whole day.
On Tuesday I went out for some celebration drinks after work. It was much fun but I payed the price on Wednesday. If Lovely Wife hadn't woken me up I would have missed the beginning of the Wednesday meeting.
There's a decent chance that if she hadn't woken me up I would have missed a significant portion of that meeting.
Wednesday's meeting was 11 hours and then dinner afterward.
I worked from home until 2:30 today to catch up some of the critical stuff I missed while I was in the critical all day meetings.
I'm wrecked and once again 150 odd posts behind in my blog reading.
The celebration drinks on Tuesday were because I officially got my Project Manager title on Monday. Yay!
We have three dogs now. We got a new lab/Aussie mutt puppy a couple of weeks ago. Pictures soon, I promise.
We have 8 cats now. Stitch, slut that she is, went into heat some time after we pulled out of the driveway for our Spokane trip. She spit out the bebe kats a week and a half ago.
I still have Morrigan's microwave plate.
I'm now three of the top application development projects at work.
And will be adding another next week.
One of those three became an emergency last week - this accounts for two of the four meeting days this week. And two more next week. [sigh]
Three of the five kittens have adoption promises already. All to women who work at the same office.
One of their clients is one of our biggest clients. Small world.
We may be boarding another lab for one of the folks who's taking a kitten.
I'm not sure that trading a kitten for an adult dog gets us out ahead anywhere, pet-wise.
Both of my parents tried to call me on my birthday. They called at home. While I was at work. This bummed me out severely.
I got my favorite selection of tasty beers for one of my birthday presents. This cheered me up considerably.
Lovely Wife rocks.
At the dinner on Wednesday I had enough prime beef to compact a tiger's colon.
There's something oddly satisfying about letting loose a $40 beef shit.
Unions are in the news lately. Seems the big annual party for the AFL-CIO is missing some of the biggest partiers this year. Yup, the two largest single unions, the SIEU (pronounced "sue", as in that's what they do) and the mob Teamsters have called it quits and started up their own little group called The Coalition To Win, or TCTW (pronounced "Tick Two" which is very fitting when you picture two blood sucking insects).
And there was much rejoicing! Yay!
There really is nothing like a freshly shorn scrotum. You really should try it.
I'm just saying.
Because I got the most fantabulous birthday present in the mail. Helen, you rock!
Points
Can you guess what splendiferous present Helen bought me? Three points for the first person to get it right!
And yes, there is enough clue in this post to get it right.
When the heat tops 95 and the humidity goes with it, when just walking out the door causes a film of sweat to sheen upon the skin, when walking across the parking lot is a painful experience and even the act of sitting down no longer brings comfort, it becomes very apparent that it is way past time to trim the ball hair.
I just figured out how to use my desktop monitor and my lappy monitor at the same time to double my screen size. How cool is that?
Now if only I could learn how to multi-task...
We had such an awesome time on Saturday. Boudicca, her three young Celts, and her sister Morrigan came over for a BBQ. There's always a bit of trepidation when you meet somebody for the first time and (for me at least) this is there regardless of how well I know somebody online. This evaporated as soon as Bou got out of her car and gave me a big "Hi" and a smile. If you've read her writing - she's just like that for real.
Of course now that I've been with her (not in the biblical sense - get your minds out of the gutter you dirty birds) one question does arise. What's up with the diet thing, Bou? Completely unnecessary - you're gorgeous.
The more perceptive of you will note that I brought that up here instead of in person. Like grampa used to say "Never talk to a woman about her figure. It's much safer to post it openly in a public place frequented by hundreds of people after ensuring that there are several hundred miles between you." Heh.
We have flags flying at my house. Until very recently we had two "porch sized" ensigns at the front of our house. Some people think that's an excessive display of patriotism, flag waving and/or a sign of rampant Republicanism. Y'all know me well enough to figure that I don't give much of a fuck about that. I like the flag, I respect it, I am proud to fly it in front of my house and I fully and completely believe that excess is good.
Anyway, we are down to one now as the other had achieved a tattered state. What to do? It was one of those all weather nylon types made to stay up and out for years at a time. I couldn't toss it in the garbage can. I wouldn't be comfortable thinking about it sitting inside a pile of refuse for a couple hundred years. Fortunately, precedent, custom and even law came to the rescue:
United States Code Title 4, Section 1, Item (k): The flag, when it is in such condition that it is no longer a fitting emblem for display, should be destroyed in a dignified way, preferably by burning.
I folded it up into the Widow's Triangle and we said the Pledge of Allegiance. Lovely Wife did a chorus of The Star Spangled Banner. Just the first bit of course, that sucker is murder on the voice. Then I put it in our burn barrel and we all dove aside to avoid the toxic fumes and spitting bits of molten plastic. It was a really nice moment and I think the kids picked up something from it.
Now our Congressmen, apparently lacking any real work to focus on, are busy making it possible for me to be arrested for doing this. H.J.Res. 10 changes the constitution to allow legislators to make flag burning a crime. A crime as in penalties, fines, jail time.
They've been trying to do this for a long, long time. It has been either ignored or struck down by the Senate every other year since 1995. Now they think that there are enough Senators willing to pass the amendment. They feel confident that enough states will ratify it as well. This is mainly because they will present it as protecting the flag and not as altering the constitution to remove a subset of our rights. They will most assuredly not make any sort of note to clarify that the actual actions that are being prohibited will be determined at a later date.
They couldn't pass laws against flag burning, because that violated constitutional protections.
They couldn't pass an amendment against flag burning because there is slightly too much sanity on The Hill.
So they went the back route. Make a generic amendment that creates a brand new set of illegalities possible and then pass laws on the state level to flesh them out.
I have two things to say to these vigilantes against sanity and freedom. First, keep your fucking hands off of my Constitution. Second, just fuck off period.
(Hat tip to Lovely Wife)
Still crazy busy.
Interviewed two people so far for the PM position. One decent candidate, one very strong candidate. Position is still open as of now though so let me know if you're interested.
I was about finished with Medieval: Total War. My Spaniards were mopping up the last of the Egyptian rebels. Spain spanned across the width of Africa. We were eating paella in Cairo. It was a beautiful thing.
Then the gutless French bastards, my long-time allies I might add, launched a surprise attack on my northern province of Aragon. A quick redeployment of the African Expeditionary Force smashed them back into France but the bloody Pope told me to stop attacking their poor Catholic selves or face excommunication. With much grumbling the Spanish forces withdrew to Aragon.
But a short two turns later what should happen but the French got themselves excommunicated for their relentless assault upon the Brits. Woo hoo! Free for all time. Married off a daughter to the English crown, relaunched the attack into France and the Froggies have been folding between my hammer and William's anvil ever since. It's a beautiful thing.
I'm about 400 posts behind in my blog reading. Ouch.
We have a multi-tiered phone system at work. For inter-office calls we use our own lines or VOIP. For external calls we use Sprint. This normally works pretty well. Yesterday it did not work well.
My cube neighbor popped over and asked me if I knew what the light on the phone meant. One of the unlabeled buttons on the phone was lit up with a red light. The lights are always red when lit so the color itself wasn't a concern. What was a concern was the fact that an unknown light was lit.
I pressed the button for that light. The phone did nothing. I picked up the receiver and pressed the button. The phone display changed to "Sprint unplugged". Interesting.
My first thought was that Sprint had followed in the hallowed steps of Nirvana and other lesser rockers and released an album sans electrics and were simply taking advantage of their wide distribution of phone services to market it. Then I recalled that Sprint is a telecommunications company and not a rock band. And apparently they are a telecommunications company that only has one plug.
I hung the phone up, picked it back up and pressed a button for an outside line. The display changed to "Cannot find ARS". Now that made perfect sense. Sprint simply can't find its own ass.
...that Kitty rocks!
I just received this fantastic little number in the mail.
Many hours of educational enjoyment lie ahead. If the kids are good I might even let them watch it.
Thanks Kitty!
I had two little projects. They had a lot in common and seemed like they would get along with each other really well. So, I played matchmaker and put them in a meeting room together for a couple of hours.
It's a week later now and I just assisted in the birth of a mega project.
Damn things breed faster than bunnies.
This worked so incredibly well* that I'm going to dip into the well again.
I need another round of happy thoughts, mojo, considered discourse, best wishes...hell, whatever your bag is it's wanted. Half of you can guess what it's for. Four of you know for sure what it's for. For the rest of you, rest assured it's going to a very good purpose.
* Although it did so apparently by causing a tropical storm. Hey, you can't make an omelet without breaking some eggs.
Or if prayers aren't your style you could work up a bit of mojo. Transfer some good karma? At least think some happy thoughts.
Sorry I can't tell you who it's for, what it's about or why it's needed. It's just not my story to tell. Direct it to me and I'll make sure it gets where it's going. I can assure you it's for a good cause.
Went to return some coffee and found all three urinals full of piss! Woo hoo!
I am surrounded by scum.
In other news, it's moving day. We're heading to our new offices all of 1.2 miles down the road. In typical fashion it's a bit of a cluster fuck. There were supposed to be functional servers over there this morning so the people who planned ahead and obeyed the order to disconnect all computers before COB yesterday would be able to work from the new office.
Not.
So I'm back at the old place listening to 100 people packing up their shit instead of working in quiet solitude. Bah.
Our last grilling session:
By "last" I mean "most recent" of course. We're full on into grilling season now so this is a fairly common occurence.
The burgers you see there aren't just any old hamburgers - they're Jimmy Burgers™, my world famous recipe. I'd be happy to share the ingredients with you but then I'd have to kill you.
No, wait. It's the recipe for my chili con carne I'd have to kill you for. I'm free to share this recipe. Except that I can't. Because there isn't one.
The actual ingredients of the Jimmy Burger™ vary widely depending on my mood, relative sobriety and what's in the kitchen.
Burgers aren't a science, y'all. They're an art form.
Getting hungry Bou?
The Available Time Fairy has yet to make an appearance, precluding my writing up fantastically amusing anecdotes for your amusement. Instead, I'll give you a relatively dry bullet point presentation of the trip. Hey, I'm in project management now. This is how it's done.
- Da plane! - Had an excellent trip. All three boys behaved like angels for the entire 12 hours of travel. Lovely Wife and I kept waiting for the bomb to drop but it never arrived. It must have been using a French targeting system.
- Airport - They've got the cutest little airport in Spokane! I wanted to just put it in my pocket and take it home with me. It's an International airport because they fly to California.
- "Spokane" - They pronounce it all funny. It should be "spo-cane", right? Nope, they pronounce it "spo-can". I kept pronouncing it the right way and anytime a local looked at me like I was a tourist I told them if they want to pronounce it "spo-can" then they had to get rid of the "e" at the end.
Oh, Rob. You poor, misguided man. I gave up on music a decade ago. I listen to talk radio in the car. I'm possibly the worst person in the blogosphere to be tagged with this meme. Regardless, I shall endeavor to rise to the occasion and hope that my answers don't inordinately degrade my cool status.
Total volume of music files on my computer:
Zero. Nada. Nil. I have no music files on my computer. I should win some sort of prize for this.
The last CD I bought was:
Ray, the soundtrack from the movie of the same name. I bought it during my Spokane trip. The rental truck had a kick-ass stereo system but I couldn't find any station with acceptable background music. Talk radio was out as I was always with passengers. Thusly, Ray was acquired.
Song playing right now:
None. Nothing. The extended version of 4'33". It's not because I'm at work, either. The only time I hear music is if Lovely Wife puts some on.
Five songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me:
Someone to Watch Over Me by George Gershwin. Played for Lovely Wife and I by the strolling violinist at The Friar's Table whilst we celebrated our first wedding anniversary.
Georgia On My Mind by Ray Charles. The reason for the above noted CD purchase. This song is gorgeous. The Ray soundtrack has two versions, one studio and one live. You can hear Ray Charles alternately smiling and crying during the live version. Breathtaking.
Speaking of Ray Charles, did you get a look at that new grand piano he's using now? No? Neither did he.
Back in Black by AC/DC. This was the first song I heard after boot camp. It was like emerging from a dark room into blinding light. Any time I hear it now I get an emotional lift. Plus, AC/DC just plain out kicks ass.
Sweet Home Alabama by Lynyrd Skynyrd. This song puts me in a happy place. I guess it's just part of being a voluntary southerner.
No Woman, No Cry by Bob Marley. Everything gonna be all right.
Five people to whom I’m passing the musical baton: I need to make up for a couple of lousy answers so I'm going to pass this to six people: the inestimable Snooze Crew™!
I bet you're all wondering where the anecdotes and stories of our Warshington trip are. They're coming, I just haven't had a chance to put them into pixels yet. You see, I had a very exciting return to work that has had me quite occupied and distracted...
Wednesday was my first day back to work. It was also Boss's last day at work. This came as quite a surprise because as late as Tuesday evening I was confirming future meetings with him. Needless to say, he was as surprised as I was. So I'm getting a new boss starting on Tuesday. What does this mean apart from putting that butterfly feeling in my belly?
The mega project I'm doing business analysis for now has no project manager at all. Boss was working PM for that project, you see. He was in the closing stages of contract negotiation with our biggest information provider as well as holder of the project plan. I'm keeping it together on my own and am getting decent support. I'll be meeting with Almost Boss and Boss2 today to see what we need to do to keep it on schedule.
My move into an official PM position is no longer as tight. This was my Boss's plan and he's gone now. On the plus side I've got the full support of Almost Boss. I'm meeting with Boss2 later today to discuss. Fingers crossed, please.
The department is in a bit of turmoil. We're very deep into defining processes and procedures. Work on this has been going like gangbusters since our Chicago meeting. This was Boss's initiative. What happens now? We've decided to keep going full steam until somebody tells us different and are meeting for a strategy session today.
New Boss has extensive experience with organizing and training project managers. This is very, very good. I expect training resources to become available and strong support for our streamlining and process development efforts.
So my overall opinion is mixed. Boss was a great boss. He was very personable and an extremely straight shooter. He also had the confidence in his people to assign tasks and then back off unless his help was needed. In the age of micromanagement this mix of traits was priceless. He's going to be missed. On the other hand New Boss has more experience with this particular department type and specific experience in getting a young department up to speed.
Good? Bad? Ugly? We'll have to wait and see.
Hello faithful SBD readers! I am one of the beloved Snooze Crew that has taken over in Jim's absence.
I had to beg for help on some ideas of what to write about here while Jim is gone, and someone gave me a stellar idea. Favorite Summertime Memories.
My Favorite Summertime Memory happened about 10 years ago when my eldest daughter was 5 years old.
After I posted that editorial yesterday it put me in the mood to write another one. Today's is about general failings of today's schools and a glimse of the light at the end of the tunnel.
...NOT the brown wire with the yellow stripe.
We had some excitement at work yesterday. Around 2:30 our receptionist made an announcement along the lines of "If you discarded a black bag in the garbage can out front we REALLY need to talk with you. Please come to the front desk." I didn't think any more of it until I was outside catching a smoke with some building neighbors and the subject came up.
One of said neighbors was an agent of the ATF. They own two floors of our office building. The FBI offices are in the next building.
He was saying that they did have to take things like that seriously because they really did get things sent to them and threats made to them. Constantly. Several times a week in this office alone and the FBI had it worse.
On the ride home yesterday my eye was caught by motion in the car to the right and a little bit in front of me. The passenger of said vehicle had just done a full head turn and was looking at me. The young, female passenger. Traffic separated us before I got more than a glance.
A minute or so later the traffic flow brought me back alongside them. This time driver and passenger both gave me a look. That's young, female driver and passenger. The young, female driver smiled. I smiled back and did the "Howdy" head nod. Traffic flow separated us again.
I know what you're thinking 'cause I was thinking the exact same thing. Visible booger, right? A quick check put the lie to that assumption. Next most obvious thing was to verify that I was indeed driving in my milk white mini-van. There's always the possibility I accidentally got into a Maserati when I left work and just hadn't realized. But no, I was definitely in the mini-van. Neither was I inadvertently shirtless, topped with messed up hair, nor obviously discolored by ink or food.
Traffic brought us alongside a couple more times until we both turned off in separate directions at the same intersection. Each time the girls would look over at me and the driver would have a big smile for me. With all other options eliminated I was forced to the only logical conclusion: I'm a hottie.
(Either that or they recognized me from the infamous cow pic.)
On Sunday we took the boys to Stone Mountain Park, our favorite place in all the outdoors. With the possible exception of just outside the carport in front of the burn barrel while drinking beers and tossing back vodka shots.
Where was I? Oh, yeah - Stone Mountain. We had the two boys from next door as well since their adults were off to Taladagua Taluhdagua Tailadaygua Talladega to watch redneck drive-bys NASCAR race. For those of you who don't know parent math, five boys are approximately four times as many as three boys after putting them through the "Outdoor Nature" algorithm and multiplying by the "Peer Impression" conversion factor.
They were suspiciously well behaved. I began to think that I had made an error in my math calculations. Perhaps I'd failed to carry the 1? We went to a classic car show in the fair grounds and the worst they did was an occasional touch of a highly polished muscle machine. I couldn't fault them too much for this as I myself was having a difficult time not rubbing my groin on some of those beauties.
The next stop was a ride on the SkyRider (aka sky-lift) to the top of the mountain. Again, they behaved almost frighteningly well. The only gaff here was Bear(5) walking into a puddle after being specifically told not to walk into a puddle (no extra socks or shoes on hand, otherwise we turn them loose). Maybe we didn't see their typical boyish terrorism up there simply because we didn't have enough time. It was right chilly on the top of the mountain, we had no coats, and the trip was aborted pretty quickly.
We got some pretty terrible news yesterday. My dad was put in the hospital for a collapsed lung. More properly known as Spontaneous Pneumothorax, this is one of the recurring side effects of emphysema.
Emphysema destroys the elasticity of the lung walls and structures. The alvioli become rigid and weak and trap air instead of transferring it. Eventually an air sac will rupture allowing air to collect in the chest cavity and collapsing the lung. Treating pneumothorax involves cutting open the chest wall and sticking a tube inside. This lets the air escape and the lung will typically reinflate within a few days.
It is not a pleasant sensation.
Mom had a couple of ectomies to treat her cancer. Her sister (my auntie) is in her third or fourth remission after some seriously rude treatment. Grams and Nana both had emphysema. Lung cancer killed Dad's sister. Everybody smoked.
I guess it's time to wake up and smell the nicotine.
Hold onto your hearts ladies as you take a gander at these three hotties.
This is the year for me meeting bloggers. Last year I met one fellow blogger - Trey Givens. That worked out so well you'd have thought I'd have been jumping in front of cars just to meet some more. Or just for the adrenaline rush. Things didn't turn out that way though. Most of my online friends live far, far away and it turns out my insurance has a problem with the whole jumping in front of cars thing.
This year is turning out very different.
I've already met Elizabeth and Clancy and had a blast with them. In just a couple of weeks I'll be in the presence of blog queen Margi. This summer we'll be barbequing with Boudicca and her three boys (And sister? She's invited too, Bou.) Later this year I'm hoping very much to be able to get together with Simon, RP and my very favoritest blogstress in the world Helen.
And all of this without attending a blogmeet. How's that for awesome?
April 26, 2005
Gwinnett County
Board of Assessors
75 Langley Drive
Lawrenceville, GA 30045
Re: Appeal of Gwinnett County Board of Assessors Property Reassessment
Dear Sir or Madam:
I received a "Notice to Taxpayer" regarding the appraised value of my home. This notice shows that you have reappraised my home at [$Governor's Mansion] compared to the prior year value of [$Single Family Ranch]. While I would certainly love to have a home that raises in value this quickly my unfortunate reality is that my home has not increased in value by 16% since the time I purchased it less than a year ago.
If an actual inspection to assess my property were to reveal this startling increase in value I would be more than happy to sell it and realize a tidy return on my one year investment. Judging by the house on the next lot that has remained unsold for over two years as well as the frequent utility outages in the neighborhood I fear that my dreams of a quick profit are for naught.
Please accept this letter as my official appeal of the County assessed value of my property. I apologize for any irregularity in my missive but the phone number provided in the Notice has been constantly busy since I first received it so I have been unable to verify exactly what is needed in this letter. Perhaps other taxpayers are taking exception to their own reassessed values?
Sincerely,
James R Peacock
In three weeks the Peacock Clan (Atlanta Division) will be traipsing off to Spokane, Washington to attend my Lil' Bro's wedding. We've (by "we" I mean "Lovely Wife") been preparing for the festivities, including buying clothes to wear for the ceremony. Well, no clothes for me as I've got my Fabulous Interview Suit(tm) but outfits for the three boys and Lovely Wife. This shopping was completed just this past weekend.
Yesterday my Lovely Wife IM'd me that she was thinking of bringing back her skirt and shoes. She's got an old skirt and old shoes that could still be serviceable and she really, really wanted to pick up Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events on it's Tuesday release.
Let me rephrase that: I am married to a woman who would rather have a Jim Carrey movie than a new skirt and shoes.
So I ask you again: Am I the luckiest guy in the world, or what?
Postscript: I surprised her with the movie last night for a birthday present so don't y'all worry about her taking those shoes back.
The good news is my inbox is down to 19 items.
The bad news is that 14 of them are flagged for follow-ups. Yuck.
The Good: I had a conference call about the project I went to Denver for. At the end of the call I received kudos from two Senior VPs and the Product Owner. It's a good thing I don't normally wear a hat because there's no way it would fit right now.
The Bad: Remember The History of Sales and Technology? A meeting earlier today took that it one step further.
Cave Salesman: And by the way, we'll need that club perfectly balanced.Cave Techguy: Perfect balance? You're talking about technology we don't even have yet!
Cave Salesman: What's so hard about balancing a club?
Cave Techguy: Well to get perfect balance on a club I'm going to have to invent the lathe and to get a lathe I have to invent gears and to get gears I have to invent the freaking wheel. You're talking about technology that we are three generations away from!
Cave Salesman: Okay, as long as I get the club by Tuesday.
The Ugly: My email inbox is bloated like Michael Moore at an all you can eat Twinkiefest.
Yesterday's meeting in Denver was a Technology support effort for a current partnership arranged by Sales and Marketing. Our initiative is to exploit utilize our partner's services while they do the same with ours. This meeting was about them using our technology.
Did I mention that this business relationship was built by Sales and Marketing?
As in, the only knowledge of our products and services was from salesmen.
It was an interesting meeting and it brought to mind an ancient anecdote about The History of Sales and Technology.
Cave Salesman: Hey, what's the deliverable on one of those new clubs?Cave Techguy: Two weeks for the standard model. Three to five for customized models.
Cave Salesman: Two weeks?! No way. It's only a club.
Cave Techguy: It's only a club? Look, I've got to locate an appropriate tree, chop it down, cut off an appropriate limb, shape it, fire harden it...
Cave Salesman: Well I already sold it and delivery is next Tuesday.
Cave Techguy: I told you - it takes at least two weeks!
Cave Salesman: I don't see why. It's only a club.
Things worked out well once we clarified a bit of what we can and can't do.
When we took our walk through Millenium Park in Chicago we saw one of Chicago's finest. On a Segway. With a bright orange reflective safety vest, like the crossing guards wear.
You pretty much lose all of your Cool Cop points if you are on a Segway.
I got an email this morning from somebody who says they want to buy snoozebuttondreams.com.
As.
If.
I just noticed that there are a handful of Dove chocolate eggs in my inbox. I dumped them when I was packing up my laptop case for my trip and forgot all about them.
It's like Easter has come eleven and a half months early!
The number of statue types you must find in order to get to the good parking near Millenium Park in Chicago. To be specific:
Gargoyles!
Indians!
Lions!
(Parents will no doubt be hearing either "We did it!" or "I'm the map!" in their heads right now. This is normal and you should not be concerned.)
That's how many blog posts are sitting in my aggregator.
What? Did you all save up a week's worth of posting for Monday and Tuesday while I'd be gone?
My meetings went very well. This is surprising as hell. You see, normally a meeting that has more than four people is useful only for brainstorming. Once you hit the magic number it's just about impossible to get actual constructive work done. Monday's meeting had 7 people and we actually did everything that we had to do. Admittedly it got a bit flighty toward the end when everybody was starting to burn out but overall it was an exceptionally well behaved crowd. Sunday's meeting was with project people instead of product people and we didn't get anything done except some brainstorming. This was okay though as the purpose of the meeting was to actually meet each other (my division is spread all over the States) and do some brainstorming.
More importantly, I met up with Elizabeth and Clancy. Elizabeth is a beanie (or "Chicagonian" if you prefer) and Clancy happened to be up there on his own business trip. We went out Monday and had a great time. Elizabeth is like a professional tour guide and showed us all around the fancy and touristy parts of downtown. A free tour was pretty cool because if I took a regular one I wouldn't have been able to expense it. Here are some of the tour highlights. Incidentally, I forgot to bring the camera so I don't have any pictures to post. Instead, I've just made helpful links for each of them:
Self-serve kiosks to check in and get your boarding pass are an excellent idea. Just swipe a credit card for ID, confirm your flight, take your boarding pass. Very fast and efficient. I even got an earlier stand-by flight on my return trip via kiosk.
Self-serve kiosks at Burger-King are a very bad idea. There are too many options, they're laid out badly and it takes far too long to just place a simple order.
Actually, those might work if Burger-King implemented a stupid people line.
Getting through security at the Atlanta airport is fast. They keep people moving by using a clever implementation of the 80/20 rule. In the case of airport security the rule says 80% of the people will do things correctly and 20% will be stupid. They identify those 20 percenters and send them to the dedicated stupid people line.
Security Guard: Identification and boarding pass, please.80 percenter: Here you are.
Security Guard: Thank you. Please proceed to that line over there that is moving incredibly quickly.
[Next traveler approaches]
Security Guard: Identification and boarding pass, please.
20 percenter: Oh, right. I've got those somewhere. Just hold on a sec... Wait... Ah, here it is!
Security Guard: That's your boarding pass, ma'am. I'll also need to see photo identification.
20 percenter: Oh! You already said that, didn't you? I'm so sorry. I've got that in my wallet... In my purse... In my carry-on bag... Here it is! Aren't you proud of me?
Security Guard: Please proceed to the stupid people line. Enjoy your flight. If you manage to find the gate.
20 percenter: Thank you!
The system works very well.
Incidentally, Hartsfield-Jackson (Atlanta) kicks O'Hare (Chicago) ass all up and down the runway. In Atlanta I had wireless available and a power plug to use. In Chicago - nada.
I have inherited nine folders of legacy documentation for The Big Project. Actual folders full of paper. I feel like I just stepped backward a decade.
I should be forgiving though - many of the documents actually are from a decade ago. Still, the vast majority of them are printouts so why the paper?
I could probably bring myself to forgive the presence of this pile of dead tree sheets except for one thing. The folders are pink. No, not "rose" or that very light pastel pink. These are PINK. Flaming pink, you might say. I've already had one coworker walk by my desk, pause, and say "Damn, those are really pink".
Now I've got to get a lock for my filing cabinet.
And a filing cabinet.
As I parked the car last night the song playing on the radio was "Soak up the Sun" by Sheryl Crow. Weirdly enough it was the first song on the radio when I started up the car this morning.
I like listening to Sheryl Crow. She's got a voice that is pleasing to the ear. The problem I have is when I listen to the actual words of Sheryl Crow songs they have a tendency to piss me off. This is mostly because she's one of those au natural dirty hippies and her songs tend to reflect that fact.
Anyway, I tried very hard not to listen to the words of "Soak up the Sun" this morning because it's an enjoyable song and it was pleasing to hear Sheryl singing to me in the early morning hours. Unfortunately I couldn't help hearing this lyric:
It's not having what you wantIt's wanting what you've got
Dammit, no! Sheryl, not even you can possibly believe that little bit of tree hugging wisdom. Yes it's a sweet sentiment. Sure, it would look great on a Tender Moments card or plastered to the back of a flower patterned VW bus. But please! That's about the least true truism ever spouted by a hippie rocker.
If this was true - that it's not about having what you want - then Sheryl would still be a nobody stoner folk singer playing on open mike night 'for the love of her music'. She wanted a bigger audience. She wanted better equipment. She wanted her own band. She wanted to make shitloads of money. And she achieved these things because it IS about having what you want.
I can't imagine what my life would be like if I had been raised to just be happy with what I had. Can you imagine? I wouldn't be married. Wedding my Lovely Wife was something I didn't have that I wanted. I wouldn't have kids - they were also things I didn't have and that I wanted. I wouldn't have a house. Wouldn't have a car. Wouldn't have a job.
What a sucky life I'd be living if it was all about just wanting the things I already had.
Complacency is spiritual death. Living is about pursuing your desires. Sheryl knows this, it's just too bad she doesn't sing it.
I think it is...let's see, England is 5 hours off, right? That means it's also 19 hours off the other way. So if we ignore the spin of the earth, carry the 3, multiply by the average airspeed of an unladed swallow, divide by Ted Kennedy's liver...and we get... close enough to tomorrow for today to be April 1!*
Happy Birthday, Helen!
Your present is in the extended entry.
* Cold medication, after several days of heavy abuse, may cause loss of critical function and time disorientation.
The one who comes into the office with sickness oozing out of his pores. I didn't want to come in today. In fact I would happily (well, as happily as possible bearing in mind the sickness) have worked from home but I left all of my project notes at work. I did this on purpose so as to avoid the temptation of working over the weekend. I made a special effort not to work over the weekend because my dad and step-mom were visiting us for the weekend.
Incidentally, that's why there wasn't anything here on Friday. We were enjoying 80 degrees and sun as we traipsed all over Stone Mountain.
We had a great time with the visit. Bacon was attached to Papa's leg for close to 4 days straight. Bear taught him how to get pummeled in record time playing his favorite video game. Sunday's festivities included hunts for two baskets per child (I told them the Easter Bunny was overstocked so was liquidating some of his stock), egg decoration with Nana and Papa (I have no idea how they kept these three ruffians so clean during the dying phase), an egg hunt (Burger won hands down with 21 eggs), and dinner out at our favorite family restaurant the Golden Corral (when you have three kids, the buffet is your friend).
I've been battling the sickness all weekend. I think I'm past the contagious part but just in case I've taken steps to avoid infecting my coworkers. I have a spray bottle with bleach in it and any time somebody walks into my cube I squirt them. This works well not only to kill any germs they may have inadverdently picked up but also to discourage future visits.
It seems that I'm not the only person offended by the frequent flushing violations in our 2nd floor mens room. Yesterday somebody printed out and posted the following sign on the inside of the bathroom door:
Way back in 1953, the U.S. Department of Health (now the CDC) determined that flushing toilets and urinals in public restrooms reduced the spread of disease by more than 88%. Today's society has acrimoniously decreed that flushing should be an automatic function (hence the many infrared toilets today). This company has determined that the use of a paltry 1.5 gallons of water per flush is worth the investment to keep its workforce healthy. So, the question to you is...Why Don't You
Flush?It's disgusting, rude and unsanitary.
Go back and flush.(and then wash your hands.)
Just got a friendly "TO: Everybody" email about mailing things from the office. Item 1 reminded us that the deadline to drop mail in the mail room is 4:00 PM, M-F. Item 2 reminded us that the post office picks up from the mailbox out back at 4:30 PM, M-F. The third item dealt with personal mail:
Metering your PERSONAL mail is a COURTESY and not a company requirement. As always, your payment should accompany your personal mail unless you’ve communicated otherwise. With that being said, please place your mail in the appropriate outgoing tray before 4PM. NOTE: If your personal mail happens to include renewal subscriptions to any pornographic magazines, materials, and suchlike, please make sure you take care of that on your own personal time!
I really want to know what inspired that note but the receptionist isn't talking.
Well today was definitely interesting. I arrived at work to a message from my boss asking if I could join a meeting. He's remote and was having connectivity problems and there was too much visual going on for him to follow well over the phone. When I got into the meeting he dropped out.
So I was in a meeting with the execs from a new division of the company. The division is new because we just acquired their company. A morning and most of the early afternoon was spent helping them define their business objectives and doing business analysis and requirements for their web portal and consumer online presence.
Weird activities for a quality assurance specialist, eh?
Got a call from my boss during the meeting, asking me to call him back when I had a few minutes. Don't you hate messages like that? Ones that give you no clue why you're calling? I sure do.
So I called him and he explained that the very large project I am consulting on now was being reorganized. He was taking over management of the project himself. Problem being, he can't be on-site here to actually manage the project. So, could I help out by doing the business analysis and business requirements locally?
There's those words again. Business Analysis. Business Requirements. Not QA stuff. Program analysis and standards are QA things. But I love doing this stuff so I said of course I'd be happy to help. That's when he popped the question.
Would I consider leaving QA for a Project Management position? He wants me on the business side of the business, said I excelled there. Yes, QA is very important but he has a critical shortage on the BA side of his house. He reassured me that it wasn't a do or die thing. I was hired for QA, I am doing a fantastic job here, this job is secure if I want to stay in it. But, would I like to step to the next level under the executorium?
I said "Hell, yeah. What took you so long to offer it? I've been here waiting for five freaking months already! Hello?"
Well, maybe it was more along the lines of a gracious acceptance. The position switch will come about in the near future after we wrap me out of some QA projects.
Say hello to Jim Peacock, Project Manager elect.
It's March 15th and that means The Grande 2004 Peacock Invitational has come to a close. So, how did we do?
Of the five of us, two made it. Tiffany's breasts did not get bigger as planned but except for this small setback she made it through a smoke free year without a problem. Tig made it too and keeps his last unsmoken ciggarette as a war trophy.
I lost it sometime during my pain filled unemployment days. Ironic, eh? Lose a job and pick back up an expensive bad habit. Jeremy didn't make it either. Busy stress life brought this valiant warrior low. And what of Joey? He got busy with school and work and disappeared many moons ago. It's possible that he survived but signs point to no. If he ever resurfaces we'll ask him and collect cash if what we suspect is true.
So over the course of a year we had a 40% success rate. That's hella better than any professional system out there. Think I should pattent this?
Over the weekend I received an email from a phisher trying to get my eBay log-in information. I'm not exactly sure why my eBay log-in information would be of any value to anybody. It's a buy-as-you-go type of place so it's not like they would have gotten any of my money or anything.
But it really pissed me off. It pissed me off enough that I went through the email headers to find the originator domain and sent this email to their abuse address:
One of your customers is a motherfucking, cock sucking, phishing bastard. I sincerely hope he dies with his severed cock shoved up his ass as he gags on his own vomit.Just thought you'd like to know. Headers below, followed by the phishing email:
[headers]
[original email]
You can tell I was really angry because I never say "gag" unless I'm seriously burnt.
Unbelievably, I got an actual answer back, from an actual email address, from what (if I close my eyes and click my heels together three times) could be confused with an actual person!
Hello,We are currently investigating who sent that message.
Kind regards,
Vlad Georgiev
Technical Support
Sure, it's an auto-response and yeah, it's probably from the same group that is doing the phishing. Still, through an alcohol induced haze it appeared like I was making a difference, and isn't that really what it's all about?
Appearances, yeah.
Yesterday's stank source has been identified. I was more correct with the stink bomb theory, except the perpetrators were our IT guys.
We have a large server farm located downtown (production) and a smaller farm locally (development). The server room is protected by an advanced fire retardant system. If fire is detected it floods the room with a gas that eliminates all oxygen therefor extinguishing the fire. The gas is harmless to electrical components and is odorless.
Odorless, that is, until a chemical is added to it to produce a strong odor. This is done to give an olfactory notification that the system was used and the room is compromised and possibly dangerous until completely ventilated. A very good idea.
Unfortunately the chemical used produces a smell like burning sulfur or Zeus's own gaseous expulsion. Why in the world would they choose such an obnoxious odor for the telltale? What's wrong with cinnamon or vanilla? Maybe a fresh pine scent would give just as much notice that something happened and yet allow everybody within the building work without constantly fighting their gag reflex. Hell, I'd settle for new car smell.
Personally I think it has something to do with the fact that the corporate IT guys work downtown. I bet their system smells like roses when it goes off.
Got on the elevator this morning and was immediately assaulted. Somebody had fouled the beast.
Got off of the elevator and was met with a stronger version of the same odor. Apparently somebody had done a preliminary attack in the elevator and then launched the atomic blast in the atrium.
Walked to my cube and found no lessening of the odoriferous monstrosity. The terrorist must be somebody in my department.
Went to the break room for coffee. Stank present. Now I began to worry.
In amazement I made a full tour of the floor. The smell of anal exhalation was everywhere.
Either we've been stink bombed or somebody's guts have turned feral.
Lovely Wife is a huge U2 fan. She even likes the crap that came out after The Joshua Tree. Now THAT'S dedication.
Anyway, they're currently touring and there's a decent chance they'll be coming through Atlanta. They're continual teasing about it anyway. Lovely Wife went online to find out how much U2 tickets are running at their other venues on the tour.
Here's a serious question for y'all. What flavor of stupid do you need to be to pay $4,800+ for a ticket to see a band? Any band. Led Zeppelin reunited - not worth it. The Beatles in their prime - not worth it. Lynrd Skynrd's Back From The Dead Tour - with an intermission show where they "Go Southern" on the Dixie Chicks - not worth it. Well, maybe. Depending on what I meant by "Go Southern".
The point is that if I'm paying $4,800 to see U2 the concert better end with Bono giving me a blowjob while The Edge juggles my jewels. Whoever else is in the band can serve drinks and pastries and provide towels as needed.
I'm just saying.
I've written a short essay on the fundamental problem in our current public school systems. You can find it at Zero Intelligence.
RP's post here is what sparked it and his post is a good read as well.