Memories of me falling out of bed

Embarrassing Things, Part Three of So Many

OK, so I work in a law firm as a technical help desk-type person. I spend a lot of time on the phone with attorneys and legal secretaries. In this particular instance, I was working with an attorney on a letter she was writing.

After spending maybe five minutes on the phone with her, chatting as I fixed the problem, I stayed on long enough to make sure the letter was coming up as it should. While we were waiting, I happened to make fun of the name of the person who I thought was the recipient of the letter. I can't divulge the exact name, but it was really kind of silly, like, I don't know, 'Jell Fheem').

After I finished giggling, she said "Yes, well. He's sitting right here."

This is actually recycled from the MedicineBalls 1.0. I apologize for my laziness, but seeing as I still work at this law firm, the embarrassment runs deeper.

Prove me wrong

NASA is run by supermarionators



from Thunderbirds.

Embarrassing Things, Part Two of Too Much

Whilst in Toronto for a business conference, I got so drunk the night before the start of the conference that the next morning I threw up. In front of about 20 of my closest co-workers. In the lobby of the fancy hotel where we were all staying.

Awesome.

Proposition 13

I could totally write this whole entry with reasons for me not writing other whole entries in a timely manner, but I respect you—my readers—far too much to do that. Anymore.

Since I see no end in sight for my current malaise, I’m going instead to try— try—to post something short every day. Ideally, this will rid me of my current habit of scribbling stuff furiously in my little book labeled “What I was going to do” with grandiose plans of penning a lengthy entry to stun and amuse.

And we see how well that’s worked.

Instead, I’m going to try to write up tiny one or two sentence entries on the theme of “Embarrassing things I’ve done”. Believe me, I’ve got entries to last the next century, and that doesn’t even include those mistakes of a sexual nature, which I’m not going to write up because I’ve got family who reads this, and—ew, no.

Embarrassing Things, Part One of Many

Once, whilst under this influence of nitrous oxide, I gave a three minute soliloquy full of Things People Say When They’re High*. To the dentist. In answer to his question about the weather.

* "They call them fingers but I’ve never seen them fing...Oh, there they go."

"Show us your wanger!"

Ever since That Guy hollered the first demand for Freebird!, there have always been assholes who yell out stupid things at shows. I can't pretend to understand what they're thinking when they reach a lull in the performance and decide that they simply must prove to their favorite star that they are, in fact, a fucktard of immense proportions; maybe they think they're special? That they're witty? That the hero on stage will stop the show and invite them onto the stage for a duet? Whatever, dipshit.

I'm sure they have been at every show I've ever been to, but only recently have I felt that an appropriate reaction on the part of security would be to take them outside and have them shot.

OK, so maybe my inner Ceauşescu has been more prominent recently, but how else are all those "that guys" (male and female) going to learn?

Maybe we can just shoot that first inappropriate yeller. Take 'em up on stage, make a big deal out of them and whack. It's win-win: they get the attention they apparently crave and we get someone to serve as an example.

What prompted this was the Kids in the Hall show last night. It was great (as expected-- although no Simon and Hecubus this round). Most of the show was new material. This was my fourth time seeing them live (I don't mean to brag. No, wait. I totally do), and in the past only about 40% was new. And, when the stuff isn't new, some people take that as an invitation to yell out the punch lines ("Hyuck! I'm crushing your head, you! Heh heh heh *fart*"). When the stuff is new, it tends to dazzle the yellers into temporary calm. Then a comedic pause comes up and they start to holler about loving Dave and, in the case of the douchebag in front of us, "Show us your wangaa!"

Does anyone even know what that means? I'm pretty familiar with most of the KITH oeuvre and I've no idea where this came from. Someone please: enlighten me.

This dude, one row up, also threw up the rock 'n roll hand sign every now and then, but fuck if I could find any rhyme or reason to his flailing salute.

You know, nothing makes me want to throw a rockin' signal more than Buddy Cole.

This winner was so obnoxious, the guy sitting next to him actually got up and moved to an empty seat nearby. And then? This loser? Actually turned around and yelled "shut up" at another douche who yelled something about loving Mark McKinney. His poor girlfriend, she ended up showing us her dick.

(See what I did there? Huh? Get it? Oh.)

I can has Xanax?

My sky has fallen. My world has come undone. The outlook is not good. Everything's gone all pants. Motherfucker.

I'm being glib, but I'm also serious (and an enigma!). I got wholloped with blergh today: a coworker (and friend) is leaving for another job and Phlyd (see picture) is going to need some expensive tests and x-rays and medicine and shit.

Only two (you say)? Yeah, well. Two big ones. Two blerghs that will ruin the rest of my year.

And what is it that has the potential to cause my forseeable future to suck ass? It's this: The coworker is literally leaving at the worst possible time. We have the summer associates coming in soon, and they need training. We are rolling out a shitload of new software that takes time to install and even more time to train. We only have 5 people total in our department (including the boss) and our brains and our will are already stretched to the breaking point. I can see nothing but pain for the rest of the year. Even if we find someone to take her place (and it takes this place ages to get through the hiring process), it takes a good six months to get someone up to speed.

And about that cat. While the $350 vet visit showed us that he is still going strong, considering he's 17 years old, there is enough wrong with him that they'd really like us to come in, he and I, for 3 more x-rays, a blood test and a biopsy of the cyst he has on his neck. It's probably not cancer, they say of the smudges on his x-ray and the lump just below his chin, but we really should check, just in case.

And that's gonna cost. The $350 only got one x-ray and some expert diagnoses. This one is going to deplete our already anemic bank account. We've got over $2000 in taxes to pay (not to mention the back taxes that I just can't bring myself to go over here), but I wouldn't be able to live with myself if Phlyd collapses from something these tests could have found and fixed.

But Jesus, we are going to be in so much debt.

I meant to write an entry about how we saw Gene Simmons in Whistler. It seemed like a good topic for blogging when it happened, but now it's been two weeks and I've got crappier fish to fry.

And yes, he is really that creepy in person.

This is not a love-in

So Ben Stein is all the rage in the blog-o-sphere lately, thanks to his ridculous and insulting crapumentary Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed. Yeah, they're not kidding - I trust the reviewers who have seen the movie and can attest that there was no real intelligence in this movie that was sewn together with stolen material, doctored interviews and flat out lies.

No, I haven't seen the movie, but I don't need to eat toxic fish heads breaded in asbestos shavings and smothered in kim chi and failure to know I don't want to eat it. Besides, that's not really my point here.

I saw this the other day at pharyngula and one quote nearly put me in conniptions. It was at least a week ago and I'm still roiling with anger when I think about it. Follow the link and you'll see a video wherein Mr. Stein is talking to some televangelist about how families were ripped apart by the Nazis in concentration camps, and the parents are gassed and the children fed barbituates. He then blathers a bit about how God makes people peaceful and caring and that, in his opinion, science leads to killing people.

Nevermind the crusades, the Spanish Inquisition and Martin Luther; it's science that's to blame for all the killing!

He's either serious here-- and therefore crazy fucking stupid-- or he's opportunistic and disingenuous. Honestly, I think it's a little of column stupid and a little of column equivocator. And I think he doesn't really understand what he said. So, should he Google himself one day and somehow find this place, I have some questions I'd like to ask:

So, caught any smallpox recently?

How do your bosses at Bausch and Lomb feel about your thoughts on scientists? Are they mad that you're finally on to their evil plan to take control and kill all humans one red eye at a time?

How's that cell phone working out for you? Did you grow it yourself?

I totally know what you mean when you say science leads to murder. Remember when that one scientist commanded that that other scientist slit his kid's throat for no good reason? And he was this close to actually doing it before the first scientist went "j/k!"?

Oh wait, that was Abraham.

And then there was that other scientist who told those guys to kill the eldest kid of every person in the HR department?

Oh wait, that was god. The one who supposedly leads you to "a very glorious place" through compassion and empathy. Right. I see what you mean.

Honestly, Ben Stein is a toad. But that's just my opinion.

Toad.

ETA: I take that back-- it's mean to toads. How about cretin? Douchebag? Asshole? I'm taking suggestions...