So the "Five Dollar Footlong" commercials were annoying as hell when the Japanese chick running from Godzilla and the hula girls held their hands a foot apart to denote the delicious deal that is the Five $ Footlong sub sandwich at Subway. Whatever.
Then they had the choirs and dancers accosting customers at ordering counters. That was really stupid.
Now they have people who can't even sing doing the commercials? Who thought having tone-deaf yahoos and people who couldn't carry a tune in an Ipod (do you like that, the update of the "carrying a tune in a bucket" saying? Came up with that myself) was a good idea? Weren't these commercials bad enough a year ago? If I thought it would work, I'd suggest a boycott of Subway until they ceased and desisted.
I'm tired of it. Aren't you?
Even the friggin' Taco Bell Chihuahua wasn't this bad, even at the very end of his run.
Jesus, please deliver us from the Subway morons. Bring back Jerod if You have to. But make that damn song disappear and turn the composers into pillars of salt. Thank You.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
looks like i made it ...
Busy season is over. Sort of. The HUD deadline got extended to the end of April, so the last couple of weeks this month will be busy, but we're back to 40-hour weeks and weekends off.
The rear-end guy never called me back. Definite happy moment there.
I'm waiting to hear back from the vet about Medea's white cell count after her bloodwork on Saturday. I didn't hear anything yesterday, which according to the vet is a good thing because she was out yesterday but said if there were problems she'd have one of the other vets call me yesterday. None did. So I'm hopeful.
This also applies to Hrothgar. He went in for his geriatric blood panel. He's been healthy as a horse his whole life, as opposed to his sister, and I'm crossing my fingers that he's still the same old healthy fat little guy.
I keep on typing "vets" as "vests". I guess I'm trying to say that the people from Wal-Mart will be calling me, I don't know.
I'm back at practice. Tonight will be my third. I scrimmaged Saturday. It was interesting. I'm tempted to say I SUCKED SO BAD but since I wasn't too great to start out with, I guess my skillz have held steady since February. I don't know if that's good or not. And our acting coach, Roller Dex, is having us do "homework" that involves skating with our feet pointing straight out to the side like fifth position in ballet. I can't even do it off-skates without falling down. It's discouraging. But tomorrow's the busy season party. So maybe getting tanked will make me feel like I can do anything.
The rear-end guy never called me back. Definite happy moment there.
I'm waiting to hear back from the vet about Medea's white cell count after her bloodwork on Saturday. I didn't hear anything yesterday, which according to the vet is a good thing because she was out yesterday but said if there were problems she'd have one of the other vets call me yesterday. None did. So I'm hopeful.
This also applies to Hrothgar. He went in for his geriatric blood panel. He's been healthy as a horse his whole life, as opposed to his sister, and I'm crossing my fingers that he's still the same old healthy fat little guy.
I keep on typing "vets" as "vests". I guess I'm trying to say that the people from Wal-Mart will be calling me, I don't know.
I'm back at practice. Tonight will be my third. I scrimmaged Saturday. It was interesting. I'm tempted to say I SUCKED SO BAD but since I wasn't too great to start out with, I guess my skillz have held steady since February. I don't know if that's good or not. And our acting coach, Roller Dex, is having us do "homework" that involves skating with our feet pointing straight out to the side like fifth position in ballet. I can't even do it off-skates without falling down. It's discouraging. But tomorrow's the busy season party. So maybe getting tanked will make me feel like I can do anything.
Monday, March 23, 2009
can busy season be over, preeze?
So things are really getting batshit out of control here at work as the deadline looms. Outside of work, over the past couple of weeks, I've been rear-ended, had to explain to the league president why my continued absence does not mean I'm quitting derby, got way sick (which is a moot point during busy season--you just work through it), thought I'd have to have Medea put to sleep (so far so good there), and had to have my debit card canceled due to fraudulent activity. And I still have 8 days (including today) before I can go back to a regular 8-5 existence. I'm just rolling in warm fuzzies right now.
The funny part is that the guy who hit me is really after me to get my car fixed. It was his fault, we both know it, and he'd really like me to get an estimate so that he can pay for the damage. Not a bad guy at all. The thing is, there are a few scratches, and there's a hole smaller than my pinkie nail (which is almost nonexistent--I've been biting my nails lately like it's my primary form of sustenance) close to my license plate. That's it. I dented the living hell out of the right front fender of my last car, and drove it like that for years. A tiny hole is nothing to me. The worst that happened to my back bumper (imo) is that my HP Lovecraft license plate frame broke. I told the guy if he wanted to replace that, give me $10 and we can call it even. But no.
He called me last week to see if I'd taken it in yet. And he's going to call me again today or tomorrow. And the answer will still be, no, haven't take it in. It was already last place on my list of priorities, and that was before I rushed Medea to the vet (Friday) and dealt with my debit card (today). The bumper isn't even on the list anymore. And I was a dumbass; I gave him my work phone #. If I'd given him my home number, at least I could have that changed.
Anyway, next Tuesday is March 31st. Last day of busy season. Maybe late next week, if everything else has worked itself out, I'm totally healthy, Medea's still alive, and I have my new debit card, maybe I'll take my car in. But I hope that guy's not holding his breath.
The funny part is that the guy who hit me is really after me to get my car fixed. It was his fault, we both know it, and he'd really like me to get an estimate so that he can pay for the damage. Not a bad guy at all. The thing is, there are a few scratches, and there's a hole smaller than my pinkie nail (which is almost nonexistent--I've been biting my nails lately like it's my primary form of sustenance) close to my license plate. That's it. I dented the living hell out of the right front fender of my last car, and drove it like that for years. A tiny hole is nothing to me. The worst that happened to my back bumper (imo) is that my HP Lovecraft license plate frame broke. I told the guy if he wanted to replace that, give me $10 and we can call it even. But no.
He called me last week to see if I'd taken it in yet. And he's going to call me again today or tomorrow. And the answer will still be, no, haven't take it in. It was already last place on my list of priorities, and that was before I rushed Medea to the vet (Friday) and dealt with my debit card (today). The bumper isn't even on the list anymore. And I was a dumbass; I gave him my work phone #. If I'd given him my home number, at least I could have that changed.
Anyway, next Tuesday is March 31st. Last day of busy season. Maybe late next week, if everything else has worked itself out, I'm totally healthy, Medea's still alive, and I have my new debit card, maybe I'll take my car in. But I hope that guy's not holding his breath.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
I guess you can't be too careful
I'm driving to work today, heading south on Keystone after hitting Einstein. There's an electric sign right before 116th Street that can be programmed to show different messages and such; it's up because of the construction debacle that is the intersection of 106th and Keystone right now. Usually it says "Lanes shift ahead. Use extreme caution". Which is sort of funny, because the lanes have been shifted since about last June, so if you don't know by now, the sign probably isn't going to help you.
But today, it said "Raptors ahead. Caution." It was blinking, so it took me a few seconds to get it, but it was pretty clear. The flashing seemed to give it an extra urgency, although it made it harder to read. So ... raptors? Velociraptors? The Toronto Raptors? I kept my eyes peeled for any prehistoric flying creatures swooping down on vehicles, or guys throwing basketballs at random cars driving past, but all was calm. Not even any construction workers out peeing over the overpass onto cars (this happened to Mel last week).
Got here to work and even looked "raptor" up on merriam-webster.com just in case I was missing something. But no--it's defined as Bird of Prey, and "a usually small-to-medium-sized predatory dinosaur (as a velociraptor or deinonychus)".
So search me. I have no clue what the City of Carmel was trying to tell us drivers as we sped down Keystone to our destinations. But they seemed to want to cover all possibilities.
In other news, I damn near froze my ass off getting gas this morning because I somehow missed the fact that it was going to be 2 degrees and all I have on is a tee shirt, nothing long-sleeved. Every once in a while I can be the sharpest crayon in the box, but most days I'm not, and today is one of those days.
But today, it said "Raptors ahead. Caution." It was blinking, so it took me a few seconds to get it, but it was pretty clear. The flashing seemed to give it an extra urgency, although it made it harder to read. So ... raptors? Velociraptors? The Toronto Raptors? I kept my eyes peeled for any prehistoric flying creatures swooping down on vehicles, or guys throwing basketballs at random cars driving past, but all was calm. Not even any construction workers out peeing over the overpass onto cars (this happened to Mel last week).
Got here to work and even looked "raptor" up on merriam-webster.com just in case I was missing something. But no--it's defined as Bird of Prey, and "a usually small-to-medium-sized predatory dinosaur (as a velociraptor or deinonychus)".
So search me. I have no clue what the City of Carmel was trying to tell us drivers as we sped down Keystone to our destinations. But they seemed to want to cover all possibilities.
In other news, I damn near froze my ass off getting gas this morning because I somehow missed the fact that it was going to be 2 degrees and all I have on is a tee shirt, nothing long-sleeved. Every once in a while I can be the sharpest crayon in the box, but most days I'm not, and today is one of those days.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
happy birthday hrothgar and medea
Today is my kittens' birthday. Okay, they're 13. But since I was there to watch them being born, they'll always be the kittens. Happy birthday to my teenagers! :)
In sadder news, yesterday was the third anniversary of Rocko's death. He was my best friend and only 10 years old, and I still feel like I got totally cheated by his having to leave the earth so soon. It made the kittens' birthday interesting in 2006. I was absolutely distraught, having just buried Rocko, but I insisted on going out and getting the kitties a gift. First I was in Barnes & Noble when a friend there (I use the term loosely in this context) heard the news and told me it was for the best. I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. After that I went into PetSmart and ended up sobbing in their bathroom. I went home with whatever I got H & M and threw it on the floor, screaming something about I hope they're glad that they're alive and Rocko would never get any older and stuff like that. I was horrible to them for a few weeks. I mean, I fed and watered them, scooped the litter box. But I didn't touch them for weeks. Anthony really helped me out and made up for the affection they had lost, and helped them, because they were grieving too. Medea's never been the same. Hrothgar stepped up and became the man of the house (although Medea took into the role of Top Cat) and took over keeping an eye on me and Medea.
I was out of town on the first anniversary, at a march in Washington. Then last year, Medea almost died. We rushed her to the emergency vet on a Sunday night because she was struggling to breathe, and I thought if I lose 2 cats on the same date, that will just be it. But she recovered, and outside of her liver and thyroid issues (that she gets medicated for every day), she's still the same badass, and Hrothgar is (thankfully, thank God, knock on wood, what have you, fill in the blank) healthy and robust and bitchy as ever.
And now they're 13. I'm a bit nervous because when I was growing up, it seemed like we started to lose our cats around the age of 15 or so, and that's just 2 more years. But since I lost Rocko at 10, every extra year past that is a blessing. But hopefully they'll pull a Corona. She was Anthony's baby (his Rocko) who lived to 18 1/2. She just passed in December. That will be a sad anniversary later this year.
But anyway, happy stuff: Hrothgar and Medea are teenagers. I love them to death and I hope they stick around for a long time past this. Although their birthday present may have to wait this year: there's like a foot of snow on the ground, and making it to work was a miracle. I think PetSmart can wait until tomorrow.
In sadder news, yesterday was the third anniversary of Rocko's death. He was my best friend and only 10 years old, and I still feel like I got totally cheated by his having to leave the earth so soon. It made the kittens' birthday interesting in 2006. I was absolutely distraught, having just buried Rocko, but I insisted on going out and getting the kitties a gift. First I was in Barnes & Noble when a friend there (I use the term loosely in this context) heard the news and told me it was for the best. I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. After that I went into PetSmart and ended up sobbing in their bathroom. I went home with whatever I got H & M and threw it on the floor, screaming something about I hope they're glad that they're alive and Rocko would never get any older and stuff like that. I was horrible to them for a few weeks. I mean, I fed and watered them, scooped the litter box. But I didn't touch them for weeks. Anthony really helped me out and made up for the affection they had lost, and helped them, because they were grieving too. Medea's never been the same. Hrothgar stepped up and became the man of the house (although Medea took into the role of Top Cat) and took over keeping an eye on me and Medea.
I was out of town on the first anniversary, at a march in Washington. Then last year, Medea almost died. We rushed her to the emergency vet on a Sunday night because she was struggling to breathe, and I thought if I lose 2 cats on the same date, that will just be it. But she recovered, and outside of her liver and thyroid issues (that she gets medicated for every day), she's still the same badass, and Hrothgar is (thankfully, thank God, knock on wood, what have you, fill in the blank) healthy and robust and bitchy as ever.
And now they're 13. I'm a bit nervous because when I was growing up, it seemed like we started to lose our cats around the age of 15 or so, and that's just 2 more years. But since I lost Rocko at 10, every extra year past that is a blessing. But hopefully they'll pull a Corona. She was Anthony's baby (his Rocko) who lived to 18 1/2. She just passed in December. That will be a sad anniversary later this year.
But anyway, happy stuff: Hrothgar and Medea are teenagers. I love them to death and I hope they stick around for a long time past this. Although their birthday present may have to wait this year: there's like a foot of snow on the ground, and making it to work was a miracle. I think PetSmart can wait until tomorrow.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
the busy season dance
Only one thing that would have me here at the computer in my cube at work before 8 on a Saturday morning: Busy Season! Yes, those special few months for anyone who works with accountants that start busy and then just spiral the hell out of control from there.
Not that it's all bad. I do like the drive in. Not the waking up and stuff, but once I'm awake and on my way, it's so nice to drive to work in relative peace. Very few cars on the road before 8 on a Saturday morning. Almost feels like it's 2 or 3 a.m., until I get to Keystone. Then it picks up, but just a bit. Although today the cops were acting like it was their busy season. I go to turn on Keystone and off to my left (south) a cop has someone pulled over, lights twirling. I go to Einstein's and get my bagel, graciously accepting the condolences of the employees and customers who are not used to seeing me bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (yeah, right) that early on a Saturday. Leave Einstein's and go to turn onto Keystone again from the other direction, and just to the north is another car pulled over. All this before 8 on a Saturday morning? What the hell are people doing? That's just a bad place in general. There's a McDonald's, Steak N Shake, Burger King, all kinds of restaurants with breakfast--and there's always cop cars sitting in the parking lots. Not that I think they leap from their seats and rush to their cars when they see someone speeding by, but they are seriously in the area.
Another thing about busy season is that, since the people in my department (admin) switch Saturdays (until late February, when it's all hands on deck all the time), I can play my radio louder. Right now I'm listening to LA Woman on Q95. Fun Saturday morning song. Drove in to the Allman Brothers' Midnight Rider. That song will make you feel like the only person alive in the world this early in the morning when it's still dark out and everyone else is asleep.
This busy season should be extra interesting, since this year I'll be juggling the increasing responsibilities of my derby league on top of the extra work here. Hopefully I can channel that stress onto the track and really take some skaters out when our season starts in March.
But anyway, it's 8:04. I should probably start working.
Not that it's all bad. I do like the drive in. Not the waking up and stuff, but once I'm awake and on my way, it's so nice to drive to work in relative peace. Very few cars on the road before 8 on a Saturday morning. Almost feels like it's 2 or 3 a.m., until I get to Keystone. Then it picks up, but just a bit. Although today the cops were acting like it was their busy season. I go to turn on Keystone and off to my left (south) a cop has someone pulled over, lights twirling. I go to Einstein's and get my bagel, graciously accepting the condolences of the employees and customers who are not used to seeing me bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (yeah, right) that early on a Saturday. Leave Einstein's and go to turn onto Keystone again from the other direction, and just to the north is another car pulled over. All this before 8 on a Saturday morning? What the hell are people doing? That's just a bad place in general. There's a McDonald's, Steak N Shake, Burger King, all kinds of restaurants with breakfast--and there's always cop cars sitting in the parking lots. Not that I think they leap from their seats and rush to their cars when they see someone speeding by, but they are seriously in the area.
Another thing about busy season is that, since the people in my department (admin) switch Saturdays (until late February, when it's all hands on deck all the time), I can play my radio louder. Right now I'm listening to LA Woman on Q95. Fun Saturday morning song. Drove in to the Allman Brothers' Midnight Rider. That song will make you feel like the only person alive in the world this early in the morning when it's still dark out and everyone else is asleep.
This busy season should be extra interesting, since this year I'll be juggling the increasing responsibilities of my derby league on top of the extra work here. Hopefully I can channel that stress onto the track and really take some skaters out when our season starts in March.
But anyway, it's 8:04. I should probably start working.
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