Saturday, January 29, 2011

Half-Assed Weekend 1/29/11

In true Simple Dude fashion, it's a half-assed weekend post.

This morning I went to Saddle Pals to freeze my ass off for a few hours. Luckily for my frozen ass I got to leave early, as they had plenty of people for the last lesson, so I climbed in my car and turned the heater on high.

My first lesson starts at 10am. When I get there a few minutes before, there's an independent rider who is just finishing up. Nearly every time he sees me, he "meets" me. As in, "Hi, I'm (insert name here)". I reply with my name. Every time. Seriously. But that's okay, because I've never actually worked with him. This morning he was quite talkative, and was telling a joke. I didn't hear it the first time because I was listening to someone else say something. He came over to me and asked if it was funny. I apologized for not hearing his joke. He was eager to tell me his joke.

Why does a chicken coup only have two doors?

I don't know. 

Because if it had four doors, it would be a chicken sedan.

Well. I laughed. Because it's just corny enough.

Happy Weekend. I'm back to packing and cleaning!

Friday, January 28, 2011

Random Friday Thoughts

I realized today that I have officially been blogging for six months. Happy Blogoversary to me! I would like to thank all of you (again) for following me and listening to me reading my ramblings-on about the every day things in my life. I've really enjoyed this more than I thought I would. It's a world all to itself, really.  We are all sharing bits and pieces of our lives, who we are, and where we're going. It's been fun getting to know the bloggers that I follow regularly. And just so you know, even if I don't "follow" you, I do check in now and then.

I finally found a couple "key word searches" that made me giggle. Okay, one actually made me laugh. The others not so much. One just confused me, as I couldn't figure out how it linked to my page, as when I used the same search, I was having to go quite a ways into it and still didn't find me.

Could you die from eczema? Someone actually Googled this? I know that eczema is not only annoying to spell, but it's also annoying because you itch a lot, but death by itching? Say it isn't so.  And I couldn't figure out how the first search linked up to me, as I couldn't find me. Maybe because I mentioned the Coke Polar Bear? And that I prefer the taste of Pepsi to Coke - at least when it comes to the regular version? No idea.

I put up a couple of pic links to my volunteer organizations today. I figured since I will shortly be forced to quit volunteering for them, I can at least try to shamelessly promote them. If you ever want to know about either of them, please click on the picture and it will take you to their websites. As for the Golden Retriever Rescue, they take in Goldens from quite literally everywhere. I've even seen them shipped from Asia. Seriously. Any dog named something like Bing or Ping. And people come from out of state to adopt. They are the only rescue of it's kind for Goldens. If you or someone you know would like to adopt one, please click on their logo. They have tons of dogs available for foster or adoption. As for Saddle Pals, I don't know how many other organizations there are, are where they might be located - this one is local to me. It's a great program for disabled kids. These programs are always looking for dedicated volunteers  to assist in lessons or basic barn yard help. It's a great way to meet people and learn about disabilities and how hard these kids work to achieve even the smallest of goals.

I finally did manage to figure out how to make "pages" at the top of my page, so I could clean up my blog a little. Thanks to those who commented on my post about begging for help trying to figure out this stuff. I still got frustrated because I was still trying to go about it the wrong way, but in the end I got it. Thanks again for your help!

Where oh where have my commentors gone? Maybe it's just my recent posts haven't interested anyone enough to leave a comment. Who knows for sure. I hate to admit this, but I get jealous of the amount of comments some bloggers get for their posts. I have to say that their posts are generally quite awesome to begin with, and mine are not always so awesome. I know not every post gets a lot of hits, or comments and that's cool. I guess its the whiny/needy in me coming out.

I now have about two weeks left at work. Damn. It's flying by. I'll be glad to get away from working graveyard. And also to get away from bad stuff that flies around. You know, the mean office gossip. Or, just the meanness from some people. The kind of mean that brings people to tears, that they can't do anything about because the mean ones always come out smelling like a rose. I'm there for those people for a short time, and I feel bad that I'm leaving in that they will have one less ally at work.

The last couple times I've gone through a drive-thru, people can't seem to understand a word I say. For example, I say something like, "I would like a number six." And they reply with, "A number twenty?" How do you get twenty from six? Or when they ask what I'd like to drink, I say, "Diet Coke." And they reply with, "A Diet Dr. Pepper?" Whoa, folks. Really?

At least I haven't had any more trouble with people falling asleep in the drive-thru.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Thank You. . . Captain Obvious.

Fog. It's a bitch.

I have to say, though, that I do enjoy walking in fog. Driving in it . . . now that's another story. I live in an area that gets fog a lot in winter. Obviously, otherwise I wouldn't be writing about it.  Last night, I could barely see when I headed out for work. Luckily my car seems to just "know" where to go, so it's like on autopilot or something. And when I got off work, it wasn't any better.

We have signs placed around the freeways that can be lit up, telling drivers about the fog. You know, signs that say something like this:


When the fog looks something like this . . . 

. . . It might be just me, but, um, I think I can tell it's foggy without the signs. Especially considering I can't see the damn sign until I hit the damn thing.

But then again, it could just be me.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

MLW: Y'all Come Back Now, Ya Hear?

It's Wednesday, which means I get to torture all of you with some random story. This week I shall regale you with the tale of my trip to Georgia with my parents to visit family.

In late May of 2008, my parents and I flew to Georgia. My younger cousin was graduating high school, and we'd never been back there. We spent about 10 days there, and enjoyed really decent weather for the south. While it was warm, the humidity seemed to have taken a vacation as well, as I've been in much worse.

They had planned a few things for us. We did some sight-seeing in Atlanta, a few hours from their town. We went to a Braves game one day. Turner Field was gorgeous, and it was a good game. Even if I don't like the Braves. My parents and I are huge Giants fans, so we rooted for the Diamondbacks instead. It eventually got too hot for us with the sun bearing down on us, so we moved up to the shade to finish out the game.

Oh, and I did manage to get this other snapshot of my Dad. We were walking behind him and realized how everything just lined up. There is a picture of myself, Mom, and my cousin under the same sign from my Dad's camera, but I couldn't email it to myself.

Another day, we went to the Georgia Aquarium. It's one of the largest aquariums in the world. If it hadn't been so crowded, it would been even more awesome. However, it was pretty crowded and everyone was hollering for their kids, trying to keep kids from crawling on exhibits, and vying for a photo op.  I took so many pictures, it's just down right scary. But I have to say, that if you are ever in or near Atlanta, you have to go to this. It's awesome.

On another day, we went to the Coca-Cola Museum. Can't miss it, it's next to the Aquarium. Again, if you're in or near Atlanta, this is another must see. I am a Pepsi drinker, myself. I prefer the taste. I don't mind Diet Coke, but I can't stand regular Coke. However, Pepsi doesn't have a museum as far as I'm aware, so Coke gets brownie points for having one. Now, there is a real story attached to the Coke Museum. It involves the Polar Bear. He was there, posing for pictures with the patrons. My cousin and I decided to go get our picture taken with the Coke Bear. The Bear is like, 7 feet tall, at least, and thought he'd be cute and start sniffing me. Which made me feel weird and I couldn't stop giggling. Neither could my cousin. That explains this set:

And did you know there is a Gone With the Wind Museum? If you've never seen the movie, you should. Set aside an entire weekend to do so, though. They have the original door set with the original portrait of Scarlett O'Hara. Apparently, Hollywood also had to get samples of Georgia dirt so that the movie would be accurate. Georgia, apparently, has it's own special color. We also visited the house that the author of Gone With the Wind (Margaret Mitchell) lived in. Makes my one bedroom apartment look like a normal house.


Overall, it was a fun trip. We didn't get to travel around the state, we basically stayed in Atlanta and the town my family lives in. It's beautiful countryside, though. Every time I'm back east or in the south, I always think that. We had a nice visit with the family, too. 

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

I Guess It's Time To Start The Countdown.

It's starting to dawn on me just how little time I have left at my job and in Sacramento in general. I'm excited and still scared. It's a big move. It's a big change. I'm looking forward to it, though.

 You can't tell me that's not pretty. Okay, you can, but you'd be wrong.

For some of my newer followers, I am uprooting myself and moving to Sticksville, USA. My grandparents have a cattle ranch, and put out a monthly publication as well. I will be helping out on the ranch and with the paper. I will be looking part-time work (at least) to help with bills and hopefully meet folks up there. The scariest part of this is that fact that the only two people I know in this town are my grandparents. But, at least I have them. When I moved to Sacramento, I had no one.

I'm really looking forward to getting out of the city. I swear they should check IQ's before they issue licenses. I'm looking forward to no more apartment living. I'm sick and tired of hearing my neighbors. I don't care what I'm hearing. Okay, so I am aware of the fact that I will still hear neighbors even while living in a house, but um, there are some things I won't be forced to hear. Just use your imagination, folks. 

Everyone at work keeps teasing me about where I'm moving to. It's okay, I don't mind. Most of them are city folk, or at the very least, suburbanites, and have no idea what I see in tiny towns. When I say "tiny", I mean tiny. The town I'm moving to has maybe 300 people. And one 4 way stop. Wal-Mart has yet to hear of this town. Which means, it barely exists if Wal-Mart hasn't shown up yet. They constantly ask me if I'll have running water, electricity, internet, cable, etc. FYI, it's a yes to all those.

My grandparents are excited, too, and are very much looking forward to having my help up there. They are actually helping me out just as much I'll be helping them out. For starters, I get a house. I'll be working for rent, really. And while I tease and joke about how it's stuck in the wrong decade when it comes to the interior, I'm just glad it has a roof, a heater, and it's not attached to a neighbor. Decor can be worked with and altered fairly easily. Plus, it's big. All of my shit belongings will fit without a problem. And it has a nice big front porch and a yard. Front and back. And a lawn. Seriously folks, this a big deal. I haven't had a lawn since I lived with my parents. So, even though it's still the 70s inside, everything else trumps that.

There is one thing I can't stand however. The packing up. My house is a freaking disaster. It's driving me bonkers. I have boxes everywhere. Plus I'm going through things so my neighbors must think I'm hoarding trash or something. This is when you find that a one bedroom apartment is small. During my last move, I lived in a two bedroom apartment. In that one, I could just shove all the boxed crap into the spare room. Here, I can't really do that. It's kind of all around. I have little walk-ways starting to form. My cat keeps looking at me with the look that says, "Ahh crap. Not again."

Oh, and that's another thing. My cat doesn't travel well. Really. If I take her to my parents for the holidays, it's two and a half hours of "MEOW!!! MEEEEOOOOWW! GRRRRRRR!!!" And half the time more often than not I have to stop half way to clean the mess she made in her carrier. Why? Because it's a stinky mess. I let her out at the house and she's got drool dangling for a mile, she's pissed herself more than once, and she's looking like she's coming out of surgery. Minus the whole staggering thing. Now, when we drive back home, she cries for about 30 minutes and then is quiet for the rest of the trip. And I have no mess at all to clean up. I'm going to have two full days of travel with her when I move. I'm either going to need ear/nose plugs or some Dramamine. 

 Not to self: Ask vet about drugging cat. And trim those damn nails.

Monday, January 24, 2011

The LOL Award

Well, Happy Monday to me! I was blessed with another award! A huge thank you goes out to Pencil Girl at Conquering the World to passing this on to me. She is one of my newer followers. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I know these awards are kinda silly, but it really means so much that folks I've never met like my ramblings enough to pass awards on to me. Really. And before I get all sappy emotional, I'll stop now.

This award comes with a couple rules:

1. Link back to the person who gave you the award.
2. Pass this award onto 7 other blogs who post about even slightly amusing things . . . and let them know.
3. Share 7 things about yourself.

Since I've already done the first one, here are the blogs I shall pass this onto (and in no particular order):

Just so y'all know, I hate choosing between all of you. Seriously. Oh and one more thing. Hazel over at Pablo's Angel . . . I was going to include her in the seven blogs, but her link said her blog no long existed. Picture a sad face.  Hazel, if you see this, you still get the award.  :o)  It's my blog and if I see fit to shell this out to 8 blogs versus 7, so be it.

Now, 7 things about me:

1. I am in love the TV show Psych.
2. My favorite blanket is the afghan my mom made me.
3. I have 3 weeks left at my job.
4. In winter I sleep with the electric blanket on, and two fans blowing on me.
5. I have never used the so-called fireplace in my apartment.
6. I despise touching other people's laundry. Even when I know it's clean.
7. I was in New York for 36 hours . . . way before 9/11 . . . and managed to get only one shot of the skyline from the ferry to the Statue of Liberty.

Sunday, January 23, 2011

I'm A Lost Half-Asser

I feel so lost. Well, not necessarily lost. Okay, now not only am I confused, I'm also confusing you poor innocent folks out there.
I have to admit something. I'm technologically challenged.
For months, I've been wanting to add a picture to my title. Or redo my title and make it a bit snazzier. You know with a picture and maybe a different font. However, I have no idea how to make it work. I've been trying for weeks off and on. I try to put a picture up there and then the title bunches up and covers up the picture. And I can't move or change anything. I've tried using Power Point. Anyway, nothing I try seems to work. And I've pretty much given up. I even tried using the so-called "help section" of Blogger. Yeah. No help. Imagine that.
So, now I'm turning to my peeps for assistance. I'm sure most of you are not nearly as challenged as I am when it comes to the world of technology. I would greatly appreciate any and all help. Also, since I'm begging . . . how on earth do you folks make all those links at the top of your page. You know, like "home" "awards" "other stuff". I've tried and I can only make one. Which is pointless since you usually want to make more than one.
I know when I've been beaten by technology. It happens often.
Thanks in advance!  :o) 

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Half-Assed Weekend

Not to rub this in to the poor folks freezing to death in snow banks, but I enjoyed a good portion of a 70 degree day. I spent my morning at Saddle Pals after work, and got out early from that to run a few errands before finally getting home to be able to open my windows and air out my place. Seriously. It gets stuffy in here keeping the windows closed all winter. My cat is currently sleeping in my room with the sunlight pouring on her. She's happy.

I only get one day off (that would be today), and I'm back to work on Sunday night. Yay for me. (rolls eyes dramatically)

I found out this morning that one of my favorite horses at SP, Rio, is being officially retired. I mean that literally, not "figuratively". He's 30 years old, and for a horse, that is old. His eyesight is starting to go and he's taken a couple of spills. I'll be sad to see him go, he's such a sweet old horse. 

I went to Target today to pick up a few items. I saw the most patient mother ever. Her toddler was just so excited and running around pointing at things. He ran to the tea and yelled, "TEEEEAAAA!!" His mom replied, "You really like that one, don't you?" She just followed him around the store while she shopped, saying, "Wow, that's cool", "What did I say? Walk please", "Remember, no running", "Wait for mommy, sweetie".  On my way to the checkout I saw a different mother with the opposite style. All I heard was, "Yeah, let's go ahead and cry in Target. Let's go ahead and cause a scene. That would be great. And you're the oldest. That's just great." At least the parents that shop at Target "parent" their kids. As opposed to the ones I see in Wal-Mart . . . because they don't.

My mom and I had the funniest texting conversation this afternoon:

Mom: OMG! Why does this ALWAYS happen to me? The biggest butt crack ever!

Me: Um, what?

Mom:  Oh it was disgusting.....and IN the grocery store!

Me: LMAO!!

Mom: omg! Fat guy....funny blue pants buttoned under his fat belly and a red shirt too short for his belly! After he left the checker started singing "I'm too sexy for my shirt". I laughed and said  "you should have been in the soup isle!"

Me:  LMAO Niiiice.
Obviously her portion of the conversation involved real words. I was too busy laughing my ass off at her expense.


Thursday, January 20, 2011


Last night I realized something. I was tired of hearing the same conversation that I've been hearing recently. It's possible I've been hearing it the whole 6 years I've been there, but maybe only recently have actually paid attention to it (for some reason unknown to me). I mentioned this to another co-worker and they agreed - they didn't want to hear it anymore either. Nor did we want to hear any of the conversation that took place between two folks simply because of this: if it had been us talking like that, we would have been told that we were too loud.
Last night was another long night at work. For some of my newer followers, I work graveyard. Trust me, the hours suck. But it pays the bills. Back to last night. Two people called in sick, which meant that we had no one. Here's how it should go: 3 people each running a hematology analyzer - one of them running a chem analyzer as well. One person mans the main chemistry bench. One person processing all the urine. One person reading all that urine under a microscope. One person processing cytologies for the pathologists. A minimum of 3 people reading CBC diffs. And one person doing hematology miscellaneous testing.
That's, what, 10 or 11 people. Here's last night: Two people on hematology machines, one of them running a chem analyzer, the other person was borrowed from another department. One person on the main chemistry bench. One person processing the urines. The person reading the urines had to be pulled from diffing CBC's. That leaves two differs - one of them having to cover breaks of those running the analyzers. One person processing cytologies - only because they were super sweet and came in on their night off. And one miscellaneous hematology person helping cover breaks. And we had to call the boss to come in to help, on their night off.
To you, it may not sound like we were short-staffed, but trust me. We were. Had two people not come in on their night off, and one person not come over from another department to help out it would have been down-right ugly. In reality, we only 6 people in total last night. That makes it really hard to get done on time. Oy. Ve.
Now, on this conversation. One person was running a hematology analyzer, the other person was on the other side of this machine at a scope. Hollering was involved to be heard over our machines. To be anonymous, they will be called A & B.
A: I'm so tired. I was here until 1:30.
B: I'm tired, too. I got out at noon.
A: I didn't sleep well. I was up at 5.
B: I went down at 2. I got up 6. And went back down at 8.
(This continues on as a repetitive conversation for awhile.)
B: I don't feel very well. I think that's why I'm missing stuff. (meaning that she's missing things on the diff cards or mixing a stack of cards with the wrong stack of slides)
A: Why don't you feel well?
B: I don't know. I'm wondering if it has something to do with the patch.
A: Why are you wearing the patch? You don't need the patch.
B: Yes I do. I'll smoke otherwise.
A: No you won't. You don't need the patch.
B: I wonder what would happen if you were to smoke while wearing the patch?
A: Maybe you could try the gum. You don't need the patch.
(This continued until even I was a wee bit disgusted by the topic. Something about guzzling down cigarettes or something. Whatever. It was disgusting and it was obviously worth repressing from the get-go.)
B: Well, it starts at 2, but she wants us there at noon.
(Obviously some party . . . I missed what kind. But if it starts at 2 . . . why do you need to be there by noon? Assurances that you'll show?)
B: Jday was already worrying about tomorrow night.
A: Why is she worrying about tomorrow? Tomorrow should be fine.
B: I don't know. I heard her telling someone earlier that she's worried about tomorrow.
(FYI. I wasn't worried about the next night. And dude, you're talking about me whilst I'm directly behind you? Yeah. Professional.)
Me: What? No I'm not.
A: Jday, why are you panicking about tomorrow?
Me: I'm not worried about tomorrow. I had been talking about tonight.
B: Oh well I guess I didn't overhear the whole conversation.
(Obviously not.)
Seriously? For starters, I hear about the whole bedtime thing on a regular basis. I don't give a shit what time they went to bed or what time they woke up. It's none of my damned business and I'd like it to stay that way. For those that I like, I don't mind hearing something like, "I had the weirdest dream" or "I couldn't sleep for shit today" or "My neighbors kept me up". Also, it's awesome that their quitting smoking. Really, it is. But I don't need to know that you're still craving cigarettes to the point that you want to eat them smoke a pack. For those of us that don't smoke, that is nasty. If you feel you need the patch and the gum, by all means, knock yourself out. Maybe you should save that yummy chat for the break room. And for Pete's sake, don't repeat a third of the conversation you think you heard. And don't be talking about me when I'm right there. Talk about me behind my back, like proper girls do.
And lastly, if the everyone else had been talking that loud and that often, everyone else would have gotten in trouble and told to basically shut up. However, some folks seem immune to some rules.

Now. Let me point out who these two folks were.

The supervisors.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

MLW: Pyscho Suzi Vault

Alrighty, so I still have to get ready for work and I hate to post my Memory Lane Wednesday post on Thursday I think I'm gonna have to go the lazy route and repost something. I would have posted something this morning, I'm sure, but it was my "Monday" at work and then had a doctor appointment afterward, so that by the I got home at 10am, I was exhausted and had been for up 25 hours. Needless to say, I slept all day long. 

So, here's one from the Psycho Suzi vault. For some of my newer followers, she was my old psycho college roommate. For more Psycho Suzi stories, you can click on her label on the left hand side of my blog. Please enjoy the story of the hot chocolate again.

Suzi and the Hot Chocolate Incident

I was spoiled by my first roommate experience. I have to admit. When it came to sharing things, we typically didn't mind. We tried to be considerate about it. Like if she and her boyfriend used the last of my butter, they'd buy me some next time they grocery shopped. Her boyfriend often asked me for stamps. He actually would give me exact change for each stamp he took. If I ate some of her crackers, I'd buy her a new box next time I was at the store. Often we'd ask before we took anything, but there times we'd have to say something after the fact.

During college, my first three years anyway, I lived close enough to campus that I walked. I enjoyed my walks to campus. Mornings were always nicest, in the summer it was before the heat of the day. In the winter, the crisp air was nice even if it did sting my eyes. In the winter I often walked with a travel mug of hot chocolate to help keep me warm. This was in addition to a sweater, a coat that goes to my knees, mittens, scarf, and a hat. No I didn't attend school in the Mid-West where temperatures can often be below zero. It's still California, but for those that live in the Northern part of the state, winter can get cold.

With my first roommate, I'd often "borrow" packets of hot chocolate if I ran out. I'd replace them. She didn't have to ask me to. I did it on my own, out of consideration. That and Karma's a bitch.

The winter I lived with Suzi, I, at one point, ran out of hot chocolate. I hated buying cups of hot chocolate at school, because even though they tasted awesome, it got expensive. Plus I would burn the taste buds off and the roof of my mouth with the first sip, so everything felt and tasted funny for the rest of the day. You can stop giggling at me now.

The morning I realized I was out of hot chocolate, she had already left for the day. I decided I'd take a packet. I had every intention of making sure I bought her more - I had to go to the store in a couple days anyway. It wasn't like she drank it near as much as me; I rarely saw her drink hot chocolate. She used the Nestle brand, with the marshmallows in it. I used, and still use, Swiss Miss. It's cheaper and you get more packets in a box.I left her a note on the whiteboard in the kitchen that I took a packet, just in case she kept inventory. It wouldn't shock me. I made it up, and ran off to school. When I came home, my note was gone. She had written nothing in return. When we were home together she didn't say anything, either. I figured she didn't mind.

Next day, same thing. On the third day I finally made it to the grocery store. When I picked up a box of her Nestle hot chocolate, I discovered it was twice the amount mine was, and she got less than half of what I got packet-wise. I hadn't noticed a taste difference. And the marshmallows got in the way of the sippy-hole of my travel mug. I still bought the damn box, because I had every intention of giving her the whole box to repay what I took.

I got home, groceries in tow. Her mom was in town for a couple days. Again. While she came across as nice, the woman was a hoverer. Way more than the average mother. She was constantly worried if we kept the front door locked, as "some stranger from the street could just show up" since we lived right on the road. If she was so worried about her daughter's safety, why didn't she have Suzi move? In fact, we weren't in a bad part of Chico. That's what I didn't understand. Minus the random dumpster-diver, we had no trouble at all.

Sorry, I digress, again. Suzi and her mom are out for the time being. I start putting my groceries away, and I opened up a cupboard. What I find is rather upsetting.

It was a box of Suzi's hot chocolate, with torn pieces of binder paper taped all over it. In Suzi's mother's handwriting, it said the following, "Suzi's Hot Chocolate!", "Suzi Only!".

I was more than offended. I had left the bitch a note regarding the hot chocolate. And she has her mommy go out and buy her a new box because I took 3 packets?! WTF?

I grabbed the box I bought for her and nearly tossed it. Instead, I took 3 packets and rubber-banded them together with a sticky note that said: "Here are the packets to replace what I took. I had every intention of replacing them". I had intended on giving her the whole box. Oh hell no. Not now. I stuff the remaining three packets into my box of Swiss Miss that I had just bought. I stuff the box down into the bottom of the garbage - out of sight.

A few weeks later, it was Christmas. She had made us stockings to hang outside our bedroom doors and put presents in. I put shit in hers. Whoa. Not literal shit. Just shit. I bought stupid kids toys and she was in love with them. Second childhood my ass - she never left her first. What did I find in my stocking?

A fucking box of Nestle Hot Chocolate with Marshmallows.

I got bitch-slapped without being touched.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

I'm Stylin'

Several days ago, I was blessed with another award - thanks to On My Soapbox. She is new to the blogging world - well, to the actual blogging portion of it anyway. If you haven't checked her out yet, you should stop by and do so. Luckily for me, there isn't a long survey associated with this one! lol  There are just two simple rules:

1. Thank and link back to the blogger who gave you the award.
2. Share 5 things about yourself.

I've already done the thanking, here's to the sharing.
~ I've been a bridesmaid twice.
~ I have a weak spot for popcorn and M&Ms. A major one.
~ I will never eat sushi again. Once was one time too many.
~ My aunt is totally kicking my ass in online scrabble. With two and three letter words. It's embarrassing. lol
~ I despise coffee in all forms. It's gross.

There is no rule about how many blogs to pass it onto. I know that several blogs I follow, this award has already hit them, so I shall try to go outside our "usual circle".

I will pass this onto Milk..Two Sugars and Eccentric Lights and Nonsense Shadows. I'm fairly new to both blogs and thoroughly enjoy both.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Half-Ass Number 2

Since there are two days in a weekend, I guess I can do two half-ass posts. Does that make a whole post?
This weekend, I watched Jurassic Park for the first time in ages. I have to say, that this movie is by far (in my humble opinion) one of the best movies ever. I mean it. Ever. It came out in 1993 I think, and let me tell you, those damn dinosaurs still look real. And sound real. And I'm still impressed by it, and it's -what?- nearly 20 years old. Effects included.
I can't even say that about some of the newer films that have come out in recent years. One of them being the new Indiana Jones movie. Now, I love me some Indiana Jones, don't get me wrong. I love Harrison Ford, and Indiana Jones was the sole reason for it. But I'm sorry, the effects were totally fake. The effects in the first three were way better and the first one is 30 years old for Pete's sake. Probably because they had to think of ways to make things seem realistic. They couldn't rely on CG like they do now. They had to be inventive.
I'm not completely dissing the new Indy movie, I did enjoy it. And I know that CG and technology have come a very long way since these movies came out 20 or 30 years ago. I'm amazed at some of the new movies because even though I can tell more often than not what is totally fake, it's still impressive they can do what they can.
However, I'm still impressed by Jurassic Park. Call me weird. But they did a bang-up job with their effects.  Here's a video I found. The video I wanted wouldn't let me copy the code, and any other good ones were ruined by people putting lame-ass music over the original movie sound.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

It's Half-Ass Time

It's time for another half-ass post - courtesy of the Simple Dude, although my post will have nothing to do with Toilet Mugs.
I have to wonder why some people have trouble asking for help. I was informed the other day that a co-worker of mine feels that they get "negativity" from others when they ask for help. I was a wee bit baffled by this, as I've rarely ever heard this person ask in the first place. I expressed said confusion to my manager, saying that if they had asked for the help they needed, they would have gotten it. No one knew that they needed it, therefore, we chugged along as usual. How on earth are we supposed to know that someone needs help on a bench if they don't ask? I mean, my psychic ability is for the birds. Whatever. I just nodded and said "okay" and went about my business as usual. One more month, folks, on more month.

I also wonder why someone starts something yet seems to have trouble finishing it. Last week, at the dog rescue I volunteer for, this happened. It just me and this other gal that morning, and she decided to "take charge" and be the person who lets the dogs out and bring them back in. Fine by me. It was colder than a well-digger's ass outside and it was warm in the kennel. Well, with all three outside runs full of dogs, I can't very well do three kennels at a time, so she'd come help me out. She'd clean the kennel, mop it up and when hers was ready, she'd go get the dog. Um. Dude, you forgot to give the poor dog it's breakfast and a clean water bowl. And in some cases, the meds that go in the food were forgotten, too.  And a nice clean towel to lay on (or mop up the mud from the dog runs). She did this all freaking morning. Apparently, if you want something done right, then you have to do it yourself.

I got a notice from my apartment managers today, saying that my lease is up in February. And that if I choose to renew my lease for another year, my rent itself stays the same, but my pet rent goes from $25/month to $35/month. What the fuckity fuck? My cat doesn't even do any damage. Minus the occasional hairball, she's easy. So, really all my apartment needs to to clean up after her is clean the damn carpets. My cat needs a fucking job. Also, the notice said if I choose not to renew my rent goes to market value plus $150 fee. What. The. Fuckity. Fuck. I'll be going down to the office to get that shit taken care of.

Think I could sell her hairballs online or something to pay for pet rent? Maybe shave her and sell the hair for the poor freezing hairless cats of the world?

Friday, January 14, 2011

Life Is Good!

Good News: Thanks to my wonderful blogging friend, Hazel, I have received a new award! Such wonderful news! Even though I knew about this award for a day or two, I'm finally getting around to posting about it. Thank you, Hazel, for being so kind as to bestow this award on my humble little blog.

As with many awards, there are rules to follow. I don't mind the rules, unlike some others who won't be named (*cough*Simple Dude*cough*). Sorry about all the coughing, I'm still getting over that nasty head cold that caught me off guard this week. Anyway, the rules are as follows:

#1 Firstly thank and link back to the blogger that gave you the award
#2 Answer the 10 survey questions
#3 Pass the award onto other bloggers you think are fantastic
#4 Contact the bloggers you've chosen to let them know about the award
I've already done the first one, so off to number two we go!
Q1.  If you blog anonymously, are you happy doing this? If you aren't anonymous, do you wish you started out anonymously so that you could be anonymous now?

I'm not anonymous, and I doubt I will ever be. There are some days I wish I was, but more often than not, I'm happy that my family and friends can come to me and say, "Hey I read your latest blog, and I really liked it". While I do understand why some folks keep their blogs anonymous, mine won't ever be so. I will, however, sometimes try to keep others anonymous that I talk about. Either because I'm complaining about them or I'm trying to protect them. Or myself.

Q2.  Describe an incident that shows your inner stubborn side.
Any day I work with my boss. For those that know me, my inner stubborn side is actually far more exterior. I am stubborn and proud of it. Lets take last night for instance. We have on loan or for use to see if we want to purchase this thing called an "Uncapper". It does exactly what it says in it's name: it uncaps serum tubes for us. Now, this is great. In theory. Here's reality: I am on the Chem bench - I pick up my samples from all the different processing stations and take them to our "drop off table" and place them in the racks for our chem machine. I then take those racks to my station, and uncap them one by one. While I'm touching each sample, I'm evaluating it to see if it's short in volume, if it's needs to be centrifuged because it looks like a freaking milkshake, or if there are clots in the sample. This takes a split second as I'm uncapping the sample. Once the racks are uncapped, I stick them on the analyzer and hit start. Now, if we use the "uncapper", I have to pick up my samples from all the processing stations, and at the drop off table, I then load them in racks with special holding tubes - align everything for the uncapper - then wait while the machine uncaps my stuff - then I have to take all these open samples to my station (the likelihood of me spilling stuff more often this way is huge) and then reload them in my analyzers racks and still have to check them for all the other stuff. It doesn't help and it's just one more step I have to take. It's a pain in my ass. I told my boss so and that I wouldn't be using it. At all. She kept insisting that I use it. I told her, "It's nice in theory, but it's more work than it's worth. I'm not using it. Ever." (Besides, what are they going to do? Fire me?) Long story short. But my work takes some explaining. My fingers are tired now.

Q3. What do you really see when you look at yourself in the mirror?
 A good person. Sometimes I'm pretty. Sometimes I'm not quite so pretty. But I know that I'm looking at a person with a good heart and soul. And that's always beautiful.

Q4. What is your favorite summer cold drink?
Um. I have no idea. I drink water and soda throughout the year. Sometimes I'll drink lemonade in the summer. I love a good sno-cone though. And those aren't exactly winter items.

Q5. When you take time for yourself, what do you do?
Couch time with the kitty. My cat is a serious lap-lover, and she has a tendency to not see my lap much during the week as I have my laptop on my lap . . . or I'm sleeping the day away. I'll curl up on the couch and she's on me all day. She loves it. And I love hearing her purr in my ears. But I love to catch up on my reading, too. Or find a way to hang out with my BFF.

Q6. Is there something you still want to accomplish in your life?
I would love to travel more - however, that requires one of two things: money or a sugar-daddy. Since I have neither, traveling much isn't much of an option. Otherwise, I want a marriage and a family of my own. Simple.

Q7. When you attended school, were you the class clown, the class overachiever, the shy person, or always ditching?
The thing to understand about my high school was that there was nowhere to ditch. Literally. We were plopped in the middle of cattle pasture. I'm so not kidding. I was the shy person in high school. When it came to college, I was still mostly the shy person. I was never really an overachiever - I had goals, but I never let them get out of reach. And I may be funny, but not enough to be the class clown.
Q8. If you close your eyes and want to visualize a very poignant moment in your life, what would you see?
The passing of my Great-Grandma. I was 26 years old when she passed away. I was blessed with so many years with her. Not many people get to know their great-grandparents; some don't even get to know their grandparents. She was in the hospital for a month before she passed, and it was a long haul. At one point the doctors were almost forced to send her home unless she consented to surgery to make her feel comfortable. The way she would have died at home bothered me to no end. I was so angry. I could not understand how God could let people die like that; no one should ever have to go through that. She finally consented to surgery, and she was able to stay in the hospital. When I was finally able to go see her, she wasn't lucid. She had no idea who I was; I couldn't even hug her good-bye. She was clutching her hairbrush, claiming she "wasn't going to let go because it was her sanity". That was Father's Day weekend. A week later she passed away in her sleep, just as everyone should Her funeral was held on my Granddad's birthday.

Q9. Is it easy for you to share your true self in your blog, or are you more comfortable writing posts about other people or events?
Depends on the topic or situation. Some things I will probably never share. Some things I will divulge only so much. It was hard for me to write the answer to the last question, because I always cry when I talk about my last visit with Grandma - and it's been 4 years.
Q10. If you had the choice to sit down and read a book or talk on the phone, which would you do and why?
I love doing both! I immensely enjoy reading, and finding time to just read for the day is relaxing to me. I love camping because often as a kid I would just sit and read and read and read. Now I'm old and need mini-breaks to keep from being stiff the next day, but I still love it. And I enjoy talking on the phone. It's wonderful to hear from an old friend or even a current one when you're separated by long distances. Emails are good, too, but listening to their voice as they describe what's happening with their lives is so much better! If I can't be sitting at a table with you, the next best thing is hearing your voice. And sometimes, that's all you need - to hear someone's voice.

And now to pass on the award to other blogs I find fantastic!

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

MLW: A Story of A Sick Kid and Her Rockstar Mom

Considering I'm sick, and I just finished sneezing about a dozen times in succession and my marbles are really knocking around upstairs, it's only right that I share a sick story with you. And how I have the bestest mom ever.
About three years ago, I came down with a pretty good case of the flu. I hadn't had the flu in years. In fact, I kept trying to tell my mom that it was just a bad head cold. She nearly had to beat it into me that I did,  in fact, have the flu. This was well after the Avian flu and the well before the Swine flu. So, it was just the flu.

I talked to my mom nearly every day, and each day I only got worse. I coughed so much that I literally lost my voice. I couldn't sleep. Due to the damn coughing. I wound up being out of work for a full week. I actually had to get a doctor's note as I had used up my three days in a row of calling in sick.
By the second day of no sleep, I had a literal breakdown. I cried and cried, wanting only sleep. I couldn't, simply because I couldn't stop coughing long enough to actually fall asleep. My cat would curl up on my lap, and I would lay either on the couch or in bed trying so desperately hard to sleep. My mom kept asking if I needed her to come down to Sacramento, and I kept telling her I'd be okay. Truth was, the flu had quite literally knocked me on my ass.
Finally, I dragged my ass to the doctor. Although I waited long enough. The morning I went was a Monday, and my fever finally broke. I actually got physically ill just before I went to leave, and waited until I felt better. Once I knew my fever was done for, I went to the doctor for some good stuff. I'm talking Codeine here. Oh yeah. Now that is good stuff. I could hardly speak once I got there, but squeaked out that I couldn't sleep because of all the coughing. He prescribed cough syrup with Codeine in it and I nearly hugged him. Not to mention he gave me a note giving me until Thursday to be off work. Loved that man.
I took some once I got home and slept. I actually slept. It never felt so good. The next day my mom said she was coming down. She'd be so worried about me, it was the sickest I'd been since probably grammar school. Her co-workers who knew how sick I was told her to go see me if she felt like she should. I kept trying to tell her I'd be fine, especially since I had the Codeine now. I didn't want her driving 2.5 hours just come sit with me. But that day, she finally insisted. She'd be down the next day.
Because I'd been out of commission for pretty much a full week, my house was a freaking disaster area. The Hazmat folks should have been called.  I straightened what little I could, you know, mostly putting all the used Kleenex in the garbage and whatnot. I did manage to clean the cat's litter box, but after walking to the dumpster and back I was done. All energy I had was gone. Mom had told me she'd be down by 9am the next morning. I was looking forward to it.

Unfortunately, I didn't wake up the next morning when she started calling me from Woodland. She wanted to make sure I was up so I could open up the side gate to my complex. I never heard my phones ring. What did wake me up was nothing short of a heart attack. That cat heard the deadbolt unlock and jumped from the bed. As she jumped, I heard the door open. I sat up and saw my mom's reflection in the glass of a photo frame in my hallway. I hollered in my squeaky voice, "Mom?!" She said, "Yeah, honey, it's me." I simply plopped back down, just relieved to know it wasn't a burglar. She came to my bedside and put her hand on my forehead as only mother's do, and greeted her sick baby.
I got up a few minutes later, and I was instructed to not leave my couch all day. Well, I did once, but I had to show her where the laundry room was and put money on my laundry card. Otherwise, I followed her instructions. My mother did 5 loads of laundry, took out my trash, cleaned my apartment, and even ran to the store to get some basic supplies. She fixed me lunch and dinner before she headed out later in the evening. I know it made her feel better coming to help me, especially since I did need the help. I just hated having to admit it. Like I said, I hadn't been that sick in a very, very long time. And especially not since moving out.
My mother so totally rocks. She drove a total of 5 hours to take care of me. She knew how sick I'd been and how much help I needed.  She did so much work, and even though I finally felt human again, and offered to help, threatened to tie my ass down on my couch. And I know she'd do it again if needed. Why? Because my mom rocks.