Monthly Archives: March 2013

I just want to start shit

Sister has me and Boyfriend hooked on Bob’s Burgers.  It’s easily one of the funniest shows on TV right now (along with Ugly Americans, Archer and 30 Rock).  Tina does that anxious moan that everyone loves, Lynn is confident for bad reasons, Bob is dry and blunt, Gene is… not that funny, actually.

But Louise.  Oh my goddess.  Louise.

She’s a self-centered instigator (neither of which I am most of the time, but desperately wish I could be) and is therefore my role model and the person I want to be.  Right now.  I want to be a clever trouble-maker.  I want to cut credit cards into ninja stars.  I want to con some idiot into thinking wearing a horse costume is a great way to win over a girl.  I want to scream, “We’re having a CRISIS!” and be taken seriously.

She also happens to be pretty heartless most of the time, which isn’t a quality I strive for most of the time, so I guess I’ll never be this awesome.  *sigh*  Oh well.

Louise feels feelings

Louise feels feelings


Group text shenanigans

You gotta be real careful when sending out a group text not to include some yahoo who will take the first chance to be a giant weirdo and inform all others on said text that your choice of friends has been questionable at best, and totally unjustifiable at worst.  Naturally, I am that yahoo.

A friend of mine sent out a Happy New Year text to me and a bunch of people I don’t know.  A couple days later, one of them accidentally texted us all back in an attempt to text one of them regarding movie plans.  MISTAKE, lol.

the total lack of response since then has solidified my position as "the odd one" in that group of friends (strangers to me).  WIN.

the total lack of response since then has solidified my position as “the odd one” in that group of friends (strangers to me). WIN.

 


Grad school, wut are u doin… grad school… STAHP

i made this

i made this

Another semester will begin in just over a week, and two thirds of the reading materials aren’t even available for the one class I’m taking.  Thus begins the nonsense that is the Master’s program in which I am currently enrolled.

Sometimes I wonder if they’ll ever get their shit together.  I had one professor this semester who was all over that shit.  So technologically capable, totally comfortable with the online setting and format.  She did hand-written edits to a paper I turned in on a tablet of some kind, and even sent me an audio file with vocal commentary on the areas that she liked.  AMAZEBALLS.  Why can’t they all be like that?  Alas, she is the first prof I’ve had through three semesters who has this level of comfort with the technology necessary to run an online class smoothly.

I also just found out that the person in charge of finding me a classroom that I can observe this semester has, in fact, not been in touch with the people he claimed to have been in touch with at the school where I need to complete my observations.  Le sigh.

So when school sucks, I remind myself that:
1) if it were easy it wouldn’t be worth while.
2) it’s leading me toward something I genuinely want to do.
3) fuck you, school, I will cut you in the parking lot if you keep fucking with me, Isweartogod.


I could not give less of a shit about the pope if I tried

haven't you been smokin' a lot of peyote?

haven’t you been smokin’ a lot of peyote?

Why do news outlets think the whole world needs to know every fucking detail of the pope “election” process?  Who gives a shit?  Catholics, that’s who.  This news should be (and probably is) posted (appropriately) all over websites dedicated to religious/Christian/Catholic news items, but it doesn’t belong on the front page of the LA Times, CNN, BBC, etc., day after day.  I realize there are a good number of Catholics in the world, but do we all need to be inundated with the minutiae of this one religion’s choice of leadership?  I think not.

I realize that whomever is elected will have some political influence, but I cannot be bothered to care because this man will still be a totally delusional whackjob.  He will spend his time in a position of influence telling millions of sheeple how guilty to feel for using condoms to not contract deadly diseases, and reinforce the idea that a sentient being with the power to create an entire universe gives a shit about your lost car keys.  There is no chart big enough to accurately display the level of ego necessary to believe that humans are not only worth listening to telepathically, but monitoring and judging, constantly, for thousands of years.  Even if I were capable of creating galaxies, I’m not sure I would have the stamina to listen to people ask me to  smite their enemies all fucking day, year after year.  The fact that humans assume to understand what a being of that magnitude might possibly be thinking is insane.  The fact that they think they’re capable of choosing one man (who magically becomes infallible the day he takes on a man-made title) to communicate with this imaginary friend, and is somehow better at said communication than anyone else is beyond absurd.

Anyway, here’s a pretty accurate depiction of my reaction to every recent news story about the recent potpourri (pope-ery, get it?):

poch

 

A friend just shared this one with me, too.


In Communist Russia, customer serves you

totally accurate

totally accurate

Occasionally I poke around Medieval Collectibles to see what’s on sale that I might add to my Renaissance Faire costume.  I’d been poking around for years before I finally got around to buying a legitimate Renn Faire costume, so of course I bought the wrong size.  I chatted with some very helpful online service reps who assured me that if I bought the right size and sent back the too-big dress, I would be refunded the amount of the too-big dress and all would be well.

Well.  That was almost a year ago, and I only just got around to sending the too-big dress back this week.  I sent with it a note that essentially said, “Hey, I spoke with some very nice people at your company who assured me I could get a refund for this dress since I bought another one, so here it is and since you’ve all been so nice, please enjoy this group of photos of Benedict Cumberbatch transforming into an otter.”

I received an email from said company today:

I wanted to let you know that we received back Irish Dress and saw that you wanted us to process this as a return for refund. Typically a 15% restocking fee is removed before refunding, however since you already placed an exchange order, we are waiving this fee.

How nice!  They’re refunding me in full.  Then it said boring stuff about waiting a few days for the full refund without freaking out because where is my refund raaaaaaaagh!! /table flip.  Then there was this:

P.S. Thank you for the pictures of Benedict Cumberbatch, they were very funny! 🙂

Success!  Hahahaha omg I love that a human looked at my little note and smiled.  Totally made my day.


Computers: THE SILENT KILLER, lol jk

fucking state of the art

fucking state of the art

I work in an office that is often technologically backwards.  I am surrounded by inept tree murderers who do not seem to fully grasp the function of a computer monitor as an endless and endlessly diverse piece of paper (at its most basic level).  I am chastised for suggesting that a digital file might be in some way superior to its physical counterpart, as if photocopying a hundred receipts in triplicate is somehow a superior record-keeping model to scanning and thereby immortalizing said receipts.  My suggestions to slowly but surely put us on track to being members of the present (not the future, which is where Little Mole Boss seems to think computers are from) are met with a “just get it done” attitude, as if involving technology will keep a job from getting done.

Little Mole Boss has been asking me to make changes to a PowerPoint presentation recently, and with every iteration finds something new to change.  Today I completed what might be the last changes to this file, and was promptly asked to print it out so Little Mole Boss could “check [it] one more time.”  My knee-jerk response was to ask if her monitor was broken, but this would have been met with some variation of same response I get from other coworkers:

1) “I just like having the paper in front of me.”  Translation:  I don’t have a good reason, only a personal preference I developed in a time when we didn’t have computers.

2) “I’m used to having a paper copy.”  Translation: I’ve used the same method to deal with this issue for decades, and am unwilling/too lazy to form new, more efficient habits that utilize the current technological leaps that the vast majority of modern offices embraced years ago.

3) “It’s a generational thing, you wouldn’t understand.”  Translation: My life experience forms a vast ocean of mysterious superiority that covers all topics (including those about which you have superior knowledge), and would be disrespectful for you to question, youngling.

"back in my day, all we needed was a pen, paper, envelope, stamp, long walk to the post office, and a week-long wait to communicate with people.  none of this "texting" whatsit."

“back in my day, all we needed was a pen, paper, envelope, stamp, long walk to the post office, and a week-long wait to communicate with people. none of this “texting” whatsit.”

Needless to say, the above answers are complete horseshit, but that doesn’t stop my coworkers from clinging to them.  So imagine my frustration when, just the other day, I had the following conversation with a coworker (let’s call her Hollywood Coworker, since she’s so impressed by celebrities and movies and TV and all the vapid nonsense that comes tumbling out of her flatscreen) who asked me to print out a few copies of a PowerPoint presentation to be passed out at a meeting between just two people.

Me: The fact is, we should never be printing out PowerPoint files when we can just email them to each other and look at them on a screen.
Hollywood Coworker: [shakes head] Well, when I was doing presentations to clients, they liked to have a copy in front of them.
But we’re not selling anything, right? If this is just for a one-on-one meeting with a coworker we could just show it on a laptop screen. Or, if they have to have a hard copy of the info, don’t use PowerPoint at all. Just put the info into a Word doc and print that so we’re not wasting paper.
Look, I’m just saying this from my experience, but back in the day, when you presented a PowerPoint, everyone needed a handout.
But this won’t be a large meeting. If it’s just information exchange, there’s no need to do a PPt at all. That’s where we could just put the info into a Word doc to keep it compact and simple, and just go through it together. If we’re not presenting anything, why use PPt? If all we need to do is print out information, PPt is not the system we should be using.
[rolls eyes] It’s interesting to hear your perspective.
[sighs] Here’s the main issue: When technology stops making things easier, we should stop using that technology. PPt is making this harder, not easier, so we should stop using it, and use something else.

The conversation ended without us coming to a consensus, though I did not print out the PowerPoint presentation then or since.  This is a point of contention between Hollywood Coworker and me that arises occasionally and that I find myself dreading.  We would get along a lot more smoothly if we could just find some middle ground on this issue, but our pattern is: she digs her heels in while I try to drag her forward.  It’s a dance we will do until she has killed every tree on the North American continent, or I stop working at Office Job.  Whichever comes first.

So now I go to work and feel like I’m trapped in a time warp.  I’ve started to do what I do with all things that make me crazy: I’ve made this into a game.  I pretend that I’ve traveled into the past where no one knows what a computer is, and I get to explain what this amazing new technology is capable of and watch all the primitive natives freak out and get mad at me for showing them something new and amazing (read: scary).

hey look it's my car on the freeway as I travel back in time to Office Job

hey look it’s my car on the freeway as I travel back in time to Office Job


I can has bees!

I will join a several thousand-year-old tradition, and thereby become a badass

I will join a several thousand-year-old tradition, and thereby become a badass

Dad has decided he wants to keep bees.  Naturally, I’m on board.  We’re going to catch a swarm together, put it in the hive he’s built and hopefully, eventually, harvest some honey from them.

We went to a local beekeepers’ meeting a couple weeks back, and yesterday attended a small mentoring program where we accompanied a very experienced bee keeper named Kirk who helps run the Backwards Beekeepers.  He’s hysterical.  He gives advice like, “I always put my bee suit on before going near a hive or a swarm.  That way I never wish to hell I had put on my bee suit.”  The man is a genius.

We checked on six box hives of various size, ranging from one to four stacked levels.  He loaned me the top half of a bee suit, and Dad brought me some gloves.  I felt super confident from the mid-thigh up.  I gathered and clutched the bottom of the “shirt” to keep bees from flying up into the shirt (it worked, miraculously).  We looked on while the other three attendees (more experienced than we) opened the hives and pulled out each frame to check on the bees’ progress, helpfully pointing out the various occupants of each section of comb: drone brood, larvae, honey, etc.  They pointed out drones (huge) and we got a quick peek at a queen (large, brown and sensitive to light).  Overall, super cool.

Captain Obvious says, "If you keep bees, you'll get stung."

Captain Obvious says, “If you keep bees, you’ll get stung.”

I started menstruating yesterday, so I was really tired and sat down after about an hour of this.  After a minute I worried that sitting would cause the cuff of my pants to lift and allow bees to fly up my pants.  I pondered this issue, and as I tried to think of a solution that wouldn’t involve standing, I got stung on my left leg right above the knee, through my pants.  Well.  Shit.

Sitting had pressed my pants right against my skin, so there was no space to protect me from a stinger.  I brushed the bee off and quickly pulled my pants away from my leg, which extracted the stinger.  It hurt a little more than an inoculation, and kept hurting for a few minutes.  Still, I expected to be stung at some point during my beekeeping experience, so I wasn’t too dismayed. Plus, it was my first sting ever!  So I was curious to see how I would react, both psychologically (temporary pain doesn’t really bother me) and (mostly) physically.  I took a Benadryl when I got home, and took a six hour nap, lol.  I haven’t had a chance to sleep in for two weeks so I was in desperate need to some catch-up sleep, and I typically take a long nap on the first day of my menstruation cycle, so I doubt it was a symptom of an allergic reaction.  The spot where I got stung is just a small pink dot on my leg now, and it doesn’t even itch, so I think I’m ok.

Dad was super bummed that I got stung.  He kept apologizing, and Boyfriend doted on me when I got home and did work on his laptop next to me in bed until I fell asleep.  Dad kept checking on me, and called me at work this morning to see how I was doing.  So sweet.  I am so loved.  Plus, I bet he doesn’t want me getting scared off, which is understandable; he wants a beekeeping buddy 🙂  He said he’s going to get me my own beekeeping suit!  Hooray!  I’ll be so confident in my own suit!  I can’t wait!  I’m doing that thing where I get really excited about a new thing.  I almost impulse purchased this necklace on Etsy the other day, lol.

UPDATE:  Aaaaaand I bought this one instead (two of them, actually, one for Dad and one for me).  Not sure where his will go, maybe on his wall at work?  Ugh.  I am the worst/best.


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