The Glory of Techmology

Werk recently upgraded† to the latest Microsoft Outlook, which includes a voice-to-text for voice mail.

Let's back up: if someone leaves a message on my office phone, I get an email with the caller ID and a play button that I can either send to my phone‡ or listen to via a media player on my computer.

PLUS... when I got a company-sponsored cell phone,§ they hooked my Outlook to it, so I¶ get a copy on my cell phone of the email that contains a copy of my work voice mail when someone leaves a message on my work phone.#

Hans and I were toddling off to lunch yesterday, when my phone tick-tocked†† to tell me I had a message. When I checked it, I recognised it as a voice mail notification,‡‡ but it also had the following text§§:




Let's back up again: Brother wants to be black. At times, Brother has thought he was black. He's pretty hip to the hip hop culture, so I read the text and thought it was an actual text or an email maybe. At first, I said to myself, "Self, Brother is having problems with his autocorrect." Then I decided he was rapping some hep slang that I simply wasn't down with.¶¶

Two or three minutes of examining context and I realised it was voice-to-text## and it was kinda screwed up.

By that time, I really wanted to know what "brooklyn truck" was going to be.

Here's the actual voice recording:




And here's a transcript:

"Yo, it's your brother. I'm probably going to give you... drop you an email too, but I just thought I would check maybe if you could, um, drop by here on your way home today real quick so I can slip you a key, go over, y'know, what to do with the cat and stuff.††† Awesome. Alright, thanks. Bye."

"Brooklyn truck" is now acceptable Untiedt sibling slang for "real quick."‡‡‡


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): And I use the term loosely.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Desk phone, that is.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Which isn't quite the treat it sounded like at the outset. I can't call the carrier for help, I can't add international texting - even if I pay for it myself - because if IT has to support too many odd requests they'll explode, and I don't have a mouseball on my phone and I hate that. As I whine about this, I'm wondering if I need to spend some time in a Third World country to gain perspective.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): ...can be in close, personal contact with work 24 hours a day...

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Screw the Hokey-Pokey, *that's* what it's all about.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Because that's the noise I chose to represent notifications.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): It had a picture of a phone.

§§FOOTNOTE (jump back turn around): Which was the first time I'd seen text on an email with a picture of a phone on it.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (throwin' up gang signs yo yo): Word to your mother like it's hot. And a bag of chips.

##FOOTNOTE (in for a penny or two): When I said the Outlook upgrade was recent, I apparently meant, like, yesterday.

†††FOOTNOTE (I'm just so terribly cross): Brother and his girlthing are going to Costa Rica for a week. B-cat (Beatrice, Brother's cat) is a travelling man's cat and has always been perfectly capable of entertaining herself for days on end. Brother is blaming it on the girlthing - he says ever since Cindy moved in, B-cat thinks she needs attention all the time. Hence the need for a catsitter.

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (we're on the right track): I feel confident I can speak for Brother too when I say, "Don't feel you need to be an Untiedt sibling to use this wonderful new slang phrase. Spread the world! Share with your friends!"

It's 39° and Raining in Prague

Yesterday at noon, Hans whisked his girlfriend Angie away from work for a surprise trip.

Yesterday at 6:30, they took off for Prague.

BFD, you may think, particularly if you've gleaned any sense of Hans's travel habits over the last few years.†

This time, thought, he's taking his girlfriend on a trip and bringing home a fiancée.‡

He spent the last month planning, agonising over diamonds and settings, wondering how much his bonus would actually be, asking advice. He found an American photographer in Prague§ and hired him to take pictures of the proposal on the Charles Bridge.¶

At 4:30 yesterday, my boss and one of the other leads asked me if I'd heard from Hans.#

"No. I don't really expect to..." I trailed off as I saw the consternation mixed with disbelief in their eyes.

"I'll text him right now."

And we sat around, Craig Ferguson-style awkward pause in the air.

"Well..." I said, jingling my keys to indicate I really was on my way out the door.

"You'll tell us tomorrow morning."

About 6:15, Hans texted:

"She was shocked, it was awesome."

Keep in mind, that was just because he picked her up to go to the airport.

When I got in this morning, Avis% asked, "Did you hear from Hans?"

"He says she was shocked and it was awesome."

"Where are they now? What time is it in Prague? Has he asked her yet?"

I Googled to find out it was 5:45 in Prague.

"Right about now. He should be asking her any second now."

"Oh, I hope the weather is nice. Did you see what the weather was?"

"Just the time. Here, let me Google... it's raining. It's 39 degrees and it's raining."

"Oh, no! I hope it doesn't ruin their pictures!"

"Well, overcast skies are better for photography anyway..."††

From around the corner, Carla@ chimed in from her desk, "Look at you, looking on the bright side!"

People keep dropping in to find out what we know, speculate on what happened, wonder if Hans has Internet access so he can send us pictures RIGHT NOW.

Gail‡‡ came down a few minutes ago and we were chatting about it.

"I can't believe how excited I am about something that really has nothing to do with me," I said.

"I know!"

"It's like reality TV or something."§§

"It's like we're living in reality."

We both contemplated the sobering idea for a moment, then went on to daydream about wonderful, romantic, surprise proposals in exotic foreign lands.

Hey, maybe I can be Hans's best man...¶¶


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Like how he went to Thailand when we were in crunch time for the Legacy sale... or how he went to Cancun when we were in crunch time for the Albrecht sale... or how he went to Austin when we were in crunch time for the Sequel sale... not that I'm bitter.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Yep! He's trading Angie in on a new model! Haha! Just kidding!

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Google.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): When he was about 20, he was stumbling around Prague in a drunken stupour with some of his college buddies - absinthe may have been involved - and he says that even in his drunken, juvenile state, he stopped on the St. Charles bridge and decided it was the most romantic place in the world and he wanted to come back to it when he wanted to propose to someone. I can hear you "Awwwwwww" from here.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): This is a distinctly female trait. I'm, like, 70% guy, having been trained through many of my formative years by some of the guyest of the guys. It always takes me a little aback when someone asks something like, "Has Hans, who is not your boyfriend, relative or parole officer, taken time out of his very personal journey to one of the most important moments of his life to give you minute-by-minute updates, much like the newscrawl on CNN?"

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Avis is my boss, head of the Lease Records part of the Land Administration department, which consists of two branches - Lease Records and Division Orders - and is overseen by Sandy. You're welcome.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I learned this in a real photography class. I wasn't just shooting platitudes to the masses to make the masses feel better.

@FOOTNOTE (atted): Carla is the another Lead in Lease Records and oversees the Gulf/Shreveport (basically Texas and Louisiana) region. I oversee the Rockies (Colorado, Montana, North Dakota, South Dakota and Utah... but mostly North Dakota). Again, you're welcome.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Who fielded the girly questions from Hans (who knows I'm 70% guy and maybe not the best person to ask for how Ange would feel about something). She says he'd come in and say, "If you were packing for a surprise trip, how much time would you need?" "Hans," she'd say, "why don't you just ask the question you want to ask: how much time will Angie need to pack? I'm not packing. I'm not going anywhere. Two hours, but you better be packed and on call to pick up pantyhose or mascara or whatever last-minute thing she thinks she needs."

§§FOOTNOTE (my girly little head is just all a-swirl!): I've heard it's like that on reality TiVi. *ahem*

¶¶FOOTNOTE (reality knocks twice): *ZING!* That was the sound of reality going right out the window.

Islands in the Stream of Consciousness

It could be one of *those* blogposts.†

A few things‡ have happened since last I (really) posted.

*ahem*

I could get seriously philosophical here, because, as I was lining up my excuse ducks,§ I realised how telling they really are.

My first excuse duck?¶

Werk.#

I suspect I genuinely have more work than I used to, now that I'm a Paid Hack for the Corporate Machine, but I can say for a fact that my time is parcelled out very differently. I have vacation time. And sick time. And hours.

Practically, it's not that much different from when I was contract. Philosophically, I feel a much greater sense of obligation.

Plus, the stress is enormously greater, what with expense reporting and million-dollar deadlines and million-dollar deadlines and Hans and United Way campaigns and the impending Oompa Loompa Revolution and stuff.

Duck!††

Blogui.‡‡

Steve. §§

And Nathan.¶¶

Wii.##

I lost my camera.†††

But I now have a lot of stories.

So I'll be around.‡‡‡


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): One may wonder that there's a blogpost at all. One may have strongly hinted on Twitter about one's suspiciously absent blogposts. You know who you are.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): One. Two. 2010.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): You know, so you can shoot them down.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): It's a good, all-purpose duck, which is a real phrase about real ducks in duck shows and one of Steve's best-loved terms. More on Steve later. But in case you wanted to know, some ducks are raised for down, some for meat and a good, all-purpose duck has qualities that make it good for both. You're welcome.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Which differs from "work" in the face you make when you say it.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): That's the second duck, but who's counting.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Occasional bouts of techui, under which I shamefully ignored Twitter and occasionally email for abnormally wide swaths of time.

§§FOOTNOTE (time swirls when you're having fun): Because we've been doing lots of fun stuff, and fun stuff takes *time*.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (is that a Wii controler? EEK!): Who bribed me to Vegas with martinis and sushi, then moved to New Zealand, leaving me bereft. I was totally reft before that.

##FOOTNOTE (bomp bomp): Wii is totally kicking my ass. Not in the way you're thinking. I'm totally intimidated by it and, even though My Friends at Nintendo have sent me games and a disco light and a cool game involving yarn and felt, I still play more on the nephews' Wii than on my own. Because my Wii scares me.

†††FOOTNOTE (very, very cross): Seriously. All my Vegas photos - including the Liberace Museum, which is now closed - plus the Christmas Eve Ugly Sweater Party and an assortment of other worthy subjects. I think the car ate it. The car ate Kate's CDs; we tore the car apart looking for them, but the car just spit them out two years later when I was looking for the cell phone I'm convinced it ate.

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (stitched together like Frankenstein's monster): I'd do more now, only I received what I see as barely-veiled threats should I not post something soon.

Werk of the Day

I had a dream last night that Hans and I jokingly set up Cat for Scale as an oil property - oh, not in any real way. This wasn't some elaborate practical joke. We just got to giggling about oil property sales and how some people must pick properties they want to buy or sell† and... voila!‡ Cat for Sale!

During our weekly conference call with the marketer on our current divestiture, Hans made an aside about the Nine Lives 4-1 well and the marketer overheard us and asked the API number.§ We thought he knew we were joking, so we made up an API number, randomly adding digits until he stopped us.

Then the ersatz well showed up on the sales brochure that went out to potential buyers.

Then we had to explain to the Senior VP and General Counsel that it was a joke.

Then the Senior VP and General Counsel explained to us how you never want to remove items from the sales brochure, only add them.¶

Meanwhile, the API number we fabricated turned out to be in the hottest oil field in the western hemisphere and high-powered multinational oil conglomerates were in a bidding war on my cat.

My freakin' cat.

I need to go work at McDonalds now.#

Or maybe I need a vacation.††


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Like some girls pick football teams in the pool - the uniforms are pretty, I used to know a guy from Tennessee, that Tom Brady is just so dreamy... not that guys couldn't possibly do this to, but I've never heard one admit to it.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Which is French for "couple of dumb-asses."

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): A social security number for wells - all unique, never used twice, the first two digits indicate the state, the next three are the county and the remaining are a unique identifier, occasionally incorporating coding for horizontal or offshore or other types of wells.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): This is true. If we're not sure about something, we leave it out so later we can go, "Surprise! We found you 1200 more acres and a tank farm!"

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Though I fear two months at McDonalds would bring dreams of the cat with a side of fries.

††FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Bright light city gonna set my soul, gonna set my soul on fire...

We Interrupt Our Blog Schedule†...

I'm puttering‡ through a handful of blogposts, including:

• Pole dancing
  
• The many wonderful things my year-long now-not-so-secret pal§ has sent me
• The many wonderful things Nintendo has sent me
• Stupid sparkly handspun¶ and an executive tiara#

In the meantime, let me amuse myself by telling you - quickly - that Hans

[our Hans]

went to see

[brace yourself]

the latest STUPID SPARKLY VAMPIRE MOVIE

[in IMAX††]

on opening night.‡‡

Take a moment.§§


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): BWAHAHAHA! Because I'm sure you're setting your watch by my blog these days. Schedule... BWA!

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Because puttering is the order of the day here at Chez Barfly.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): All will be explained in due time. Perhaps now would be a good time for another "BWAHAHAHA!"

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Gods, I love my friends. How else would someone be browsing a wool festival and go, "Sparkly. Purple, grey. Foggy, atmospheric, sparkly... stupid sparkly... vampire. Marin"?

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): If you don't think executives should have tiaras, you're not familiar with the insecurity of executiveship. If I can confess right here, nothing in my life (not boys, not college, not spandex, not yearbook pictures) has made me more insecure than being an executive.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Possibly in 3D.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Bought the tickets *in advance*.

§§FOOTNOTE (turn it around): Because we love Hans, and in all fairness, he's the best of best boyfriends; his girlfriend is out of touch with her Twilight contingency, so Hans wanted her to see the movie. AND he decided that she spent a lot of time doing what he wanted to do, so maybe he should do something she wants. If more men were like Hans, there would be no sit-coms.

NOTE: It made me feel better, and may make you feel better, that Hans did not like stupid sparkly vampires.

ALSO NOTE: He told me. He didn't tell his girlfriend. In the land where sit-coms don't mean anything.

Excuse #10

The "Why I Have Neglected My Blog" series:

I don't know exactly what it is, but I suspect it was Hans's doing.

***IMPORTANT UPDATE***

I had to take a little trip to the 1999 Building this afternoon.† While I was there, I went to the information desk and asked about the arms.‡

First, let me take a moment to mention that the brain trust that runs the information desk was none too geeked about my asking. Not reluctant, not angry, but not particularly inquisitive or bright.^

He did, however, have an answer: it's a permanent mobile scaffolding§ for window washing.

Crack investigative reporter that I am, I was prepared to ask him probing questions - did they find it more economical to hire window washers who didn't bring their own scaffolding? did window washers stop bringing their own scaffolding? did they ever decorate the arms with Christmas lights in a festive nod to the holiday season? could I do that for them?

Alas, I sensed he was in no mood to get all Vanity Fair about it, so you get the Dear Abby version¶ instead.

Still, you had a right to know.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Screw it. I'm doing footnotes.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Because that's the kind of information service I provide to you, the Rickety consumer.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): C'mon... if you were in his shoes and someone asked you something other than "do you know when the next train comes?" or "which floor for Time Out Temps?" wouldn't you be jazzed?

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): My words, not his. He may or may not be familiar with "scaffolding."

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): 1.5 column inches. But Abby never did footnotes.

Excuse #2

The "Why I Have Neglected My Blog" series:

I hate to play the executive card, but I did just take a job not that long ago. And, while I'd swear I wasn't doing half as much as I was before The Big Move (trust me, for me, it was HUGE), I seem to be roughly one bazillion times as busy.

Stupid paperwerk.

Crappity Crap Crapple Crapstick

Sunday morning.

8:00 am.

Doorbell.†

No, no, no... wait. Let's get some background here:

Four weeks ago, I had a notice on my door, along with a release,‡ so someone could fix my deck railings,§ which look like a ramshackle country sheep fence.¶

"You'll have to be there for the first four hours so they can do some tests for leakage in the garage and house."

"Do your crews work weekends? I'd rather not missing any work if I can help it."

"No. NO weekends. NEVER. Idiot! Why would you even ask such a thing? Barbarian! Fascist!"#

So we agreed on Monday the 12th.††

You know where this is going.

In a spectacular, bruising, bloodying, life-sized game of Patio Furniture Tetris, I loaded out the deck and rendered my dining room useless for the next several days.

I'm pretty sure Manny and the Snow Removers do decks in the warmer months.

And I did more before 9:00 am than I had ever intended to do all day.‡‡


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Preceded by many, many backup signals. I hate backup signals.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Which I mention because I'd like to bitch about it as long as I'm bitching. Y'know, as an efficiency measure. I rewrote the release because it essentially said, "You agree to let our people in your house, now and forever, for the purpose of fixing, inspecting, maintaining bits of the house with no date or time restrictions and you agree to hold them harmless for any and all breakage or damage." I have finally discovered the practical application of being a Landman.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): It was supposed to be fixed before I moved in. Then, after three years of asking, they let me know they weren't going to fix anything because the HOA was suing the builder for such things as wildly substandard deck rails and they didn't want to pay for anything the builders should pay for. Fortunately (since the giant set of patio furniture wasn't enough, then the planters weren't enough), the compost barrel was finally enough to trigger Murphy's Law so I could move the maximum amount of ungainly stuff into the house.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Great for a quaint rural sheep farm. Not so great for an urban townhouse.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): OK, her mouth may have said, "Oh, no, I'm sorry, we don't work weekends," but I'm sure her eyes said "Fascist!"

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): i.e. - tomorrow, but most notably not today.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Hopefully getting out of Kim's doghouse in the beginning of a misery-loves-company trend.

Double Crap!

The comments are often interesting. Sometimes, they're downright hilarious. Today, they were humbling, as Kari reminded me of a little oversight† on my part.

I was so busy talking about myself and saying things to make Kim hate me‡ that I completely forgot to tell y'all that Hans got a job too.§ Same place. We'll probably still have adjoining offices.¶

*whew*

There.

Back on the high road.#


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): *cough*

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Dear Kim, I've said it before:

"Look at me," said the star, "I'm shining so brightly." Then it went supernova. The moral of this story is obvious. - Tanith Lee, The Silver Metal Lover

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): And he doesn't even have to be one of my minions.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): There is some chance I will have to move to the other side of our floor, given my two extant minions office there and it's where the empty offices where the two TBD minions will likely live.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Where a saint-in-training belongs.

Crap

One of my future co-workers† asked today, "So since you're going to be an employee, does this mean you can't wear jeans every day?"

I hate the voice of reason.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Y'know... all formal-like in another week-and-a-half. I've been working with her for three years.

Procedural Question

Took lovely vacation.†

1. Took fantastic new job.‡
2. Won tourney pool.§
3. Came home last night to find new Nintendo cooking game% on the front porch... along with a new chef's apron,¶ onion goggles,# a Cuisinart†† stainless steel stockpot and a truly beautiful, big bamboo chopping board.
4. Went to happy hour with Kelley. One bottle of wine, one beer, one order of chips and salsa: $16.25. God bless half-price bottles of wine.‡‡

The question is, do I buy the lottery ticket because I'm on a roll, or have I used up more than my fair share of luck?§§


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): With glow sticks!

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Yes, I did. The company that's been my client for the last three years offered me a full-time, permanent position. After carefully weighing the pay (a little less than contractor pay, but that's expected. I'll have to watch my pennies for most of the year, I'm guessing, until I get used to not having free rein of my gross pay), the benefits (401K AND pension, raises AND bonuses, med/dent/vision for $1 a month, garage parking for $25 a month, four weeks paid vacation a year, 10 holidays and one floating holiday a year - for those of you scoring at home, that means I get a full month of and paid per year. Well, for the next four years until I get FIVE weeks vacation a year. Discount stock plan and LTIP [long term incentive program, and when I figure out the LTIP thing, maybe I can explain it to someone else], which means more cash prizes.), the location (same place, five miles from home) and the position (they created it for me, keeping in mind my short attention span, and I will have MINIONS. FOUR MINIONS), I decided that at my age and stage, I couldn't pass it up.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Cash, yes, but bragging rights more important.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): America's Test Kitchen...



to go along with my last two Nintendo-supplied games, which we never talked about.




Professor Layton: wonderful puzzle game (I like puzzles).
Style Savvy: like electronic Barbies.


¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Red.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I'm very sensitive to onions. I hope the goggles work.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Cuisinart!

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Every happy hour at El Camino, which sounds divey and suspect, but it's actually a really nice neighbourhood bar in what is considered a pretty nice neighbourhood. Despite the name and the discount wine.

§§FOOTNOTE (head... spinning...): I'd hate to be the victim of the first exploding lottery ticket or something, which is where I fear this is headed, given the Kharmic Green Stamps I've cashed in over the last few days.

#NintendoEnthused - plus there's a new hashtag that's supposed to say I've been compensated by Nintendo, but you already knew that and I don't remember what that hashtag looks like. Y'all know Nintendo ships me stuff and I talk about it. I hope you also know that if it sucked, I'd tell you so.

It totally does not suck.

Here Now, the News

Quite possibly not the news you would expect, given my latest post and assorted Twitterpation,† but some news.

I have just returned from San Antonio and the wedding of LisaB and Edmundo.% Pictures to follow‡ shortly, but for now, three things:

1. If you have a wedding§ outside at night, hundreds of glow sticks and their flashier cousins@ are utterly cool.
2. Jen, Kara and I should totally form a girl group. Our rendition of "Tainted Love" was ten kinds of awesome.¶
3. If you are going to San Antonio, think twice about going during Final Four# weekend. The floating pep rally†† was fantastic, but the ballers, cheerleaders, bands, coaching staffs and all their dearest friends, family and schoolmates‡‡ were overwhelming.
   

[SUMMARY: There is no summary. These things don't go together except in my head.]

Speaking of...

Sports naysayers, avert your eyes:

Due to my beloved Coach K's victory over the WVa team that propelled me to giddy heights of March Madness bracket standings, I have catapulted once again, now ranking a stunning THIRTEEN§§ out of 1124 in the 850 KOA brackets.

All hale the mighty BOB!¶¶



[SUMMARY: Once again, yay me.]

By the way... one of the perqs under this job offer is a full four weeks' paid vacation my first year, plus the eleven paid holidays everybody gets.

The executives making the offer pointed out that I would've had Friday off and paid if I were working for them right now.

[SUMMARY: Some fairy godmothers just don't play fair.]


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): You know how sometimes I think I'm funny? Well, sometimes I think I'm clever too.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Which are actually two separate things, as Lisa got married in Wimberley, home of one of the first (when I was eight - not this weekend) of my many near-drownings... a little story I'll probably include when I share the pictures and the shower story. Huh. Water and Wimberley and Marin are a scary combination.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): And a funny story concerning a shower.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Or a birthday... or a free Tuesday night...

@FOOTNOTE (atted): Like this.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): There may have been alcohol involved.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Women's. I flew down with no fewer than twelve NCAA women's coaches. I seriously thought there might be some sort of lesbian festival in San Antonio this weekend before I found out I was going to Tournament Town.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Until you've seen cheerleaders form a pyramid on a barge, you haven't really lived.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Not to mention - because the sentence was getting too long, so I didn't - ESPN, CNN, travelling teams from the local news stations pertinent to Stanford, UConn and whomever else was in the women's Final Four.

§§FOOTNOTE (I'm all twirly): I had to write it out because there's no way to capitalise "13."

¶¶FOOTNOTE (beating a dead horse like a drum): Beasts of Burden. B.O.B. My perennial fantasy sports team name... in case I haven't already explained that.

Veni Vidi Venti†

I'm dizzy.‡

Job offer. BIG decision. Frighteningly big. Excitingly big. Dizzyingly big. Upsettingly big. Not-sleeping-tonight big.

I need a Magic 8 Ball, like, now.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I came, I saw, I drank a really big coffee?

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): And blushing. Guess how often that happens.

Knitpiphany!†

Carol Jean sent yarn.‡

Beautiful Black Bunny yarn.




Beautifuller even than I thought it was when I first pulled it out because it's so light, so pastel, I thought I'd have to let it grow on me.§ Only there's something moody and shoreswept about it, like the faded paint on a seaside ice cream shop, and it grew like kudzu in a wet summer.^




[SUMMARY: Poetic yarn.]

It's 50/50 alpaca/wool, and a generous serving size,@ so I squish it on a daily basis and didn't know what to do with it.

Then, in my current round of blog gluttony,¶ I ran across a lovely post with lovely pictures and a scarf that made me catch my breath.%

[SUMMARY: A pattern of melodrama.]

Perfect. It's *perfect*.#

This has never happened to me before. I'm a little dizzy.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Have I used that title before?

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Despite my calling her Carol Jean behind her back, I got the yarn because I'm in her Black Bunny Yarn Club, rather than because I'm her BFF. I'm not as special as I may have misled you to believe.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): It may shock you, but I'm generally not a pastel person. For those of you scoring at home, I think the top picture is more true to colour - at least on my monitor.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): Hans agrees.

@FOOTNOTE (atted): 530 yards of fuzzy, halo'd goodness. Just right for a saint-in-waiting.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Some of you may have noticed swarms of comments from me, some covering posts you made months ago. That's me, catching up after the great Workicane (Workopalypse? Nine on the Workchter Scale? I'm working on it. Whatever it was, it was an unnatural disaster with gale force winds.) of O'9. The boss called last week because he had dinner with the VP who brought me on here and he asked what our (Hans and I) workload would be like so he could schedule in impending projects. "Divestitures are going to slow down this year," Randy the Veep is purported to have said. "What the HELL does that mean?" I wailed at John. "Six-day work weeks instead of seven? Only working twelve hours a day?" *ahem* Excuse me. A little vent is good for the soul. A saint-in-training can't afford to have a constipated soul.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): It's not the cleverest or the most complex or the most graceful, it's just perfect for the yarn at hand. And I *really* like it. The designer calls it "Mabel's Scarf," but I recognise a Greek key when I see it, so it's All Greek to Me.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I'm a perfection virgin.

Boxing Day

We're moving.

The office, I mean.




Oh, we're just moving to the other tower. Hans and I will even have roughly the same view we do now. We'll still be able to keep an eye on the billboard across the street.

[SUMMARY: Keeping you apprised of the important stuff.]

But we still have to pack everything like we're moving to Juneau.†

As a wholly-relevant tangent,‡ the last time I moved my residence, they told me not to bother emptying dressers and file cabinets and such. The movers brought these giant rolls of saran wrap§ and cosied everything right up.

The guys moving our office require we empty our desks and credenzas.

Several people have poked their heads into my office and said, "Are you ever going to start packing?"

"*snort*," I reply.¶ "I don't use my desk drawers, so I really don't have much to pack. I'll toss a few things into the crates on Friday and be done with it."

[SUMMARY: Pride... fall... bad saint! Go to your room!]

So I opened the drawers I was sure held almost nothing and boy, was my face red.

You can't imagine how much perfume# was in that desk.


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I exaggerate. The nice office movers actually bring us colour-coded labels and boxes that fit onto wheeled dollies like Legos, but it's funnier if we're moving to Juneau.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): One could argue that the person tangenting shouldn't be allowed to determine the relevance, but none of you is here to help me so I made an executive decision.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): They forgot one. It's still in my garage. You never know when you'll need six miles of three foot-wide plastic wrap. Someday I may need to move bodies.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Because there is no better appetiser for a plate of crow than a good snort.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): A pile of knitting patterns too, but they can be disguised as work documents.

An Interlude with My Brother

We call this one, "Conversation with Zach"†:

Zach: "What's the difference between set up and setup?" (Make appropriate hand gestures to delineate the two) "Like with a space and without a space, what's the difference?"

Brother: "With a space, it's a verb. Without a space, it's a noun."

Z: "Oh, boy."

B: "OK, if you're going over to Dad's house to check out his computer setup, that's no space. The setup is a thing, a noun. If you are going over to set up your Dad's computer, there's a space. You're doing something, it's a verb."

Z: "OK, so if I say the JOA‡ is set up in Quorum,§ that has a space?"

B: "Right."

Z: "What if the JOA is not set up in Quorum?"


†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Zach is sort of like Brother's Hans. Though Hans is mostly *intentionally* funny.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Joint Operating Agreement, my bread and butter.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): A petroleum industry-specific database program.

Rats Dead... Bodies Everywhere...

Is "rat-killing" specific to the petroleum industry, or do all people use this term?

Call me the Pied Piper of Petroleum Problems, St. Marin of the Dead Rat.

Sheesh. I'm putting "exterminator" on my résumé.

I Laughed.

Thought For The Day:

Angels:

Women are Angels.

And, when someone breaks our wings...

we simply continue to fly... on a broomstick...

We are flexible.

Guess Where I Am

First clue: usually I play this game on Twitter, but I'm in a place with no cell service, no 3G... T-Mobile radio silence.*

That's right, Billings, Montana. Trying to fix something I broke five years ago because I sucked then, but I don't suck quite so much now.**

[SUMMARY: Pride is a sin. I am a saint-in-waiting.]

Also? This computer doesn't recognise CTRL-C for copy or CTRL-V for paste,*** so I can't get my normal**** footnotes on the page.

I really like Billings,***** but I'll be glad to get back to Denver where the cell phones work and the footnotes come with pretty crosses****** and swirls.*******


*FOOTNOTE (one star): This happened the last time I came to Billings. And the time before that. The definition of insanity...

**FOOTNOTE (two stars): When the person you respect most in your field, ever, tells you you screwed up, tells you you're good at what you do, tells you you screwed up, tells you you're better now than you were when you screwed up, tells you everybody screws up, but you definitely screwed up, but you shouldn't beat yourself up about it... you spend a LOT of time beating yourself up about it. I suck.

***FOOTNOTE (three stars): Yet somehow recognises CTRL-B for bold. This is the most confusing alphabet book ever.

****FOOTNOTE (four stars): OK, so there's nothing normal about my footnotes.

*****FOOTNOTE (five stars): More fantastic restaurants per capita than Manhattan and an art museum that hosts the kind of collections only old oil money can provide.

******FOOTNOTE (six stars): I'm a saint-in-training. I *need* my crosses. Besides, isn't it a little confusing when I use the asterisks for emphasis and you're off looking for the footnote that goes with "need"?

*******FOOTNOTE (seven beautiful stars... MWAHAHAHA! *bats**lightning*): How'm I s'posed to get my swerve on if there's no swerve button on this stupid computer?