Aw durn. Some Halloween debunking.
Back in June I posted about the ghosty caught on film at the courthouse in Santa Fe.
I have to admit, watching the video I was pretty bought in. It was *weird*.
So sadly, last night, while surfing about I found this article on Yahoo.
Way to de-ghost my holiday!
Damn it!
Turns out it was a ladybug. Probably.
Debunked? Or no?
You decide……
Muah ha ha ha ha ha ha!
The debunking vid:
The original vid:
October 31, 2007
October 30, 2007
October 29, 2007
Tis the Season
Halloween is nigh, only a couple days away. I do love Halloween, it's all sorts of fun. Halloween has always been the San Francisco version of Mardi Gras. Not this year, I guess. SF has decided the fun in the Castro is too dangerous and have clamped down. The Mayor cancelled Halloween! Oh well, SF will find a way to party, I’m certain.
Meanwhile, The Cute Boy™ is something of a Halloween grinch. We've made plans to be out on the 31st (shades of my folks…their wedding anniversary is the 31st and every year I had to *wait* until they came back from anniversary dinner to go trick-or-treating. It was agony.) But that's ok, I'll get a nice dinner out of the night so I can't complain. Plus I'd eat all that candy I would have bought…so maybe this is saving my waistline.
But we did have Halloween fun this weekend. A friend threw a pumpkin carving party with great eats.
Here's our creation, I'm pretty proud of it:
Meanwhile, The Cute Boy™ is something of a Halloween grinch. We've made plans to be out on the 31st (shades of my folks…their wedding anniversary is the 31st and every year I had to *wait* until they came back from anniversary dinner to go trick-or-treating. It was agony.) But that's ok, I'll get a nice dinner out of the night so I can't complain. Plus I'd eat all that candy I would have bought…so maybe this is saving my waistline.
But we did have Halloween fun this weekend. A friend threw a pumpkin carving party with great eats.
Here's our creation, I'm pretty proud of it:
October 28, 2007
Hoo Boy
Gotta love Bill Richardson. He's in there swinging away. I'm not sure he can hold his own in the elections versus Clinton and Obama, but he's not going down without a fight and without distinguishing himself, at least a little, from the rest.
While Governor, Richardson made national headlines by vowing to determine that the grave of Billy the Kid in Fort Sumner, NM really holds the remains of the outlaw, and not some other location in Texas.
It was amusing, to say the least, to see my state getting AP coverage. Richardson's passion about the story was admirable. He didn’t go in half-assed and it was a calculated move that gained him some attention.
And now this from today's Albuquerque Tribune. Richardson saying that if elected president, he'd dig into the Roswell UFO files. It was a road that Steve Schiff went down for a bit before his death, asking the General Accounting Office (GAO) to investigate the Roswell crash.
This move by Richardson that will gain him the quirky vote, for sure, and makes him seem a little more human than the other perfect haired politicians, but will it be enough to coast him into the White House?
Either way, I'm enjoying the campaign he's putting on. It's nothing if not entertaining.
While Governor, Richardson made national headlines by vowing to determine that the grave of Billy the Kid in Fort Sumner, NM really holds the remains of the outlaw, and not some other location in Texas.
It was amusing, to say the least, to see my state getting AP coverage. Richardson's passion about the story was admirable. He didn’t go in half-assed and it was a calculated move that gained him some attention.
And now this from today's Albuquerque Tribune. Richardson saying that if elected president, he'd dig into the Roswell UFO files. It was a road that Steve Schiff went down for a bit before his death, asking the General Accounting Office (GAO) to investigate the Roswell crash.
This move by Richardson that will gain him the quirky vote, for sure, and makes him seem a little more human than the other perfect haired politicians, but will it be enough to coast him into the White House?
Either way, I'm enjoying the campaign he's putting on. It's nothing if not entertaining.
October 24, 2007
Tales from the rails
So today was another commuter day. Not because I needed more penance for my sin of speeding, I'm over that. No, today was a commuter day because it's a good idea, it saves money (commuter subsidy, yay!), and walking to the train station and to all my meetings in other buildings is a nice way to force my expanding backside to get up and walk.
It kind of blows to commute on a Fall into Winter morning, because the mornings are staying dark longer. It was not light yet when I rose, because I had an early meeting which meant taking the early train. Ugh.
The Cute Boy™ grumbled, mostly, when I went to kiss his sleeping self goodbye. "I love you" was greeted with a grunt that meant, roughly, "love you back".
The upshot of a cold Fall morning is that I didn't get as sweaty as I usually do on my walks. I'm a sweater from way back. I know, so not dainty.
So it was a pretty uneventful morning. Got the station on time. Train was on time. Found a seat right away. Read my book. Felt ok with life.
Got off the train and clambered onto the shuttle that goes from the station to my place of employment. The shuttle is usually where the real weirdos are. It's like the train is fine, the weird asses are folded in with enough normal as to be hardly noticeable, but at that train station, we all fall through a sieve and the real gems of oddity funnel onto the shuttle bus with my employers name pasted on the side (yes, I know, what does that say about *me*?).
I found a seat, settled in for the shaky ride that takes about ten minutes. I was reading again when my weirdo spidey sense perked up. I lifted my head and looked around and found the lou-lou of the day.
Most of us carry backpacks in the Sili Valley. We're all toting all manner of electronic gadgetry, so it's easiest to haul 'em on your back, like an overpaid, overworked pack mule. On the shuttle, people either hold their pack on their lap, put it on the seat beside them, or at their feet.
Not this guy. He had his backpack standing straight up in his lap, arms wrapped tightly around it, hugging it to his chest. For dear life. Like it was a long lost brother. Like the love of his life. It was nestled under his chin and he never wavered from this loving embrace until we arrived at the destination, then he tossed it on his back and walked into the building.
Did he have some super secret product in there that's on the forefront of technology, that will blow everyone's minds, and he's protecting it with his entire body? Is he devoid of passion and loving embraces in his life and his nylon pack is the best substitute? Is he an emotional basket case about coming to this godfersaken place every morning and the only way he can make it is to cling to something like a motherless rhesus monkey trying to suck warmth and love from it's cloth panels and padded straps?
Who knows. It was just…weird.
You'd think after eight years at this place I'd have gotten over all the culturally encouraged weirdity.
Which makes me wonder…have I ever been the weird one on the bus? The one that's talked about in the latte line? Hmm…..
It kind of blows to commute on a Fall into Winter morning, because the mornings are staying dark longer. It was not light yet when I rose, because I had an early meeting which meant taking the early train. Ugh.
The Cute Boy™ grumbled, mostly, when I went to kiss his sleeping self goodbye. "I love you" was greeted with a grunt that meant, roughly, "love you back".
The upshot of a cold Fall morning is that I didn't get as sweaty as I usually do on my walks. I'm a sweater from way back. I know, so not dainty.
So it was a pretty uneventful morning. Got the station on time. Train was on time. Found a seat right away. Read my book. Felt ok with life.
Got off the train and clambered onto the shuttle that goes from the station to my place of employment. The shuttle is usually where the real weirdos are. It's like the train is fine, the weird asses are folded in with enough normal as to be hardly noticeable, but at that train station, we all fall through a sieve and the real gems of oddity funnel onto the shuttle bus with my employers name pasted on the side (yes, I know, what does that say about *me*?).
I found a seat, settled in for the shaky ride that takes about ten minutes. I was reading again when my weirdo spidey sense perked up. I lifted my head and looked around and found the lou-lou of the day.
Most of us carry backpacks in the Sili Valley. We're all toting all manner of electronic gadgetry, so it's easiest to haul 'em on your back, like an overpaid, overworked pack mule. On the shuttle, people either hold their pack on their lap, put it on the seat beside them, or at their feet.
Not this guy. He had his backpack standing straight up in his lap, arms wrapped tightly around it, hugging it to his chest. For dear life. Like it was a long lost brother. Like the love of his life. It was nestled under his chin and he never wavered from this loving embrace until we arrived at the destination, then he tossed it on his back and walked into the building.
Did he have some super secret product in there that's on the forefront of technology, that will blow everyone's minds, and he's protecting it with his entire body? Is he devoid of passion and loving embraces in his life and his nylon pack is the best substitute? Is he an emotional basket case about coming to this godfersaken place every morning and the only way he can make it is to cling to something like a motherless rhesus monkey trying to suck warmth and love from it's cloth panels and padded straps?
Who knows. It was just…weird.
You'd think after eight years at this place I'd have gotten over all the culturally encouraged weirdity.
Which makes me wonder…have I ever been the weird one on the bus? The one that's talked about in the latte line? Hmm…..
October 22, 2007
Monday Media Review
I've lazily looked around all the usual suspect news sources for something interesting to pontificate about today. No luck. I've hit all my favorite blogs, both political and otherwise. Nothing.
Slow news day? Sure. I could blather about the Red Sox victory over the Indians. And the coming World Series with the Rockies. Nah. Old news, really.
So I'm going to borrow an idea from a rather vain blogger I read (who is NOT from NM, in case you are wondering). Today I'll recount the media that's currently swirling around in my world. Just cuz I can.
On my bedside table:
Just finished:
How to Hepburn: Lessons on Living from Kate the Great. Always been a big fan of Katharine Hepburn. Huge. This book is sort of biographical, sort of instructional, focusing more on Kate's struggles with insecurity and being such an oddball in Hollywood. All in all, though, a great read. Especially if you like Hepburn.
Currently reading:
Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal. I stumbled across Moore's darkly funny A Dirty Job: A Novel (about Death. I mean the hooded one.) this summer and laughed my ass off at his real black humor. Plus he's a Bay Area guy so I was interested. "Biff" was published back in 2002 so I'm quite behind the curve, but this book is so witty, so laugh out loud, so jealous I-wish-I-could-do-that. He makes it seem effortless. He's got a biting humor with a heart and that's hard to do. I've read so much dreck lately that this book is like a breath of fresh air and I consider it a reward, like dessert, to be able to sit down and read a chapter or two.
Also on my bedside table for when I finish "Biff" is Straight Man by Richard Russo. This will have to be my next read because it is the subject of the November meeting of my local library's book discussion. Those are some smart well-read folks in that group, so I have to stay on top of my game. It's supposed to be funny, but I fear after "Biff" it won't be…we'll see.
But the one I'm salivating over is Mary Roach's Spook: Science Tackles the Afterlife. I love, love, love Mary Roach. I became enamored with her from the book Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers. It was a well-researched yet wryly funny book. Plus she writes a genuinely funny monthly article in Reader's Digest of all places. And she makes it work. She adds a lot of light and air to that very stalwart old magazine (that yes, I admit I read…or at least used to. My dad used to gift me with a subscription, but sadly when he passed, my mom decided not to continue the gift). So this one is down in the stack but I'll get to it. Oh yes I will…..
In the DVD player:
The Cute Boy™ and I are huge fans of movies so we have an obscenity of DVD's sitting by the telly right now, begging to be watched.
My secret bon-bon:
Season Two of Grey's Anatomy. I usually loathe medical shows. I've eschewed "ER" for years. But one of my friends at work talks about this show all the time and says that I am the real life Addison (which, watching these early seasons, I realize is NOT a compliment…despite Kate Walsh being haaaawt). I watched an episode about a year back and decided to give it a try. I liked Season One. Season Two not so much. Oh well. I watch this evening soap when The Cute Boy™ is off doing other things. I promised I wouldn’t subject him to it, despite the fact that he knows one of the actors on the show.
My "where the hell have I been?":
Glengarry Glen Ross. One of The Cute Boy's™ favorite films. Now I understand why the first time I took him to New Mexico he snickered whenever anyone referred to Rio Rancho. This dates back to 1992 but is a great film. Well acted, great script. Memorable lines. Plus, I work daily with sales weasels in my job, and this was a stunningly good insight into the mind of a desperate salesman.
My do gooder viewing:
Fast Food Nation. A fictionalized rendition of the hard-hitting book. I read the book and was seriously moved. The film did it no justice.
My surprisingly good:
Little Miss Sunshine. Way better than I thought it would be…added touch of the family coming from New Mexico.
The nod to the legends:
Gotta watch a classic every now and again to see how it's done. The Lion in Winter fit the bill. Great script, crappy editing, great cast. A VERY young Timothy Dalton is yummy! And Katharine Heburn, well into her sixties, still rocks the screen.
Coming through the speakers:
Been struggling with music lately. It's my favorite distraction but I find I'm tending to listen to the stuff I already have, occasionally buying a single song or two from iTunes. Nothing is firing me up lately. I'm mostly back in the old stuff. On a Glen Campbell jag lately (would love to catch him live). Mostly my listening is limited to my Sirius radio. Channel 62, The Roadhouse, playing oldies country. (yes, I admit it).
So I'm open to suggestions here. I've grabbed a couple of the Song of the Day free downloads from Starbucks, but nothing yet has fired me up.
This sort of depresses me. For me, music is essential to my sanity. The search continues.
On the 'net:
Just found the blog Confessions of a Pioneer Woman. Again, where the hell have I been? I'm only a couple days in but this is pretty entertaining…the ongoing tales of a city woman who married a country man and moved to the middle of nowhere. She's smart, witty and surprisingly open. Fun. Her Ethel channeling Britney sound clip is worth the click. Found this blog from the comments section on a jezebel.com article about women prefering cowboys to city boys. I could weigh in on that topic another time....
And I'm stupidly addicted to I Can Haz Cheezburger?. I dream one day my cat will do something interesting enough so I can lol cat her heiny. For now, all she does is sit on my desk and look at me disapprovingly.
See?
Slow news day? Sure. I could blather about the Red Sox victory over the Indians. And the coming World Series with the Rockies. Nah. Old news, really.
So I'm going to borrow an idea from a rather vain blogger I read (who is NOT from NM, in case you are wondering). Today I'll recount the media that's currently swirling around in my world. Just cuz I can.
On my bedside table:
Just finished:
How to Hepburn: Lessons on Living from Kate the Great. Always been a big fan of Katharine Hepburn. Huge. This book is sort of biographical, sort of instructional, focusing more on Kate's struggles with insecurity and being such an oddball in Hollywood. All in all, though, a great read. Especially if you like Hepburn.
Currently reading:
Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal. I stumbled across Moore's darkly funny A Dirty Job: A Novel (about Death. I mean the hooded one.) this summer and laughed my ass off at his real black humor. Plus he's a Bay Area guy so I was interested. "Biff" was published back in 2002 so I'm quite behind the curve, but this book is so witty, so laugh out loud, so jealous I-wish-I-could-do-that. He makes it seem effortless. He's got a biting humor with a heart and that's hard to do. I've read so much dreck lately that this book is like a breath of fresh air and I consider it a reward, like dessert, to be able to sit down and read a chapter or two.
Also on my bedside table for when I finish "Biff" is Straight Man by Richard Russo. This will have to be my next read because it is the subject of the November meeting of my local library's book discussion. Those are some smart well-read folks in that group, so I have to stay on top of my game. It's supposed to be funny, but I fear after "Biff" it won't be…we'll see.
But the one I'm salivating over is Mary Roach's Spook: Science Tackles the Afterlife. I love, love, love Mary Roach. I became enamored with her from the book Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers. It was a well-researched yet wryly funny book. Plus she writes a genuinely funny monthly article in Reader's Digest of all places. And she makes it work. She adds a lot of light and air to that very stalwart old magazine (that yes, I admit I read…or at least used to. My dad used to gift me with a subscription, but sadly when he passed, my mom decided not to continue the gift). So this one is down in the stack but I'll get to it. Oh yes I will…..
In the DVD player:
The Cute Boy™ and I are huge fans of movies so we have an obscenity of DVD's sitting by the telly right now, begging to be watched.
My secret bon-bon:
Season Two of Grey's Anatomy. I usually loathe medical shows. I've eschewed "ER" for years. But one of my friends at work talks about this show all the time and says that I am the real life Addison (which, watching these early seasons, I realize is NOT a compliment…despite Kate Walsh being haaaawt). I watched an episode about a year back and decided to give it a try. I liked Season One. Season Two not so much. Oh well. I watch this evening soap when The Cute Boy™ is off doing other things. I promised I wouldn’t subject him to it, despite the fact that he knows one of the actors on the show.
My "where the hell have I been?":
Glengarry Glen Ross. One of The Cute Boy's™ favorite films. Now I understand why the first time I took him to New Mexico he snickered whenever anyone referred to Rio Rancho. This dates back to 1992 but is a great film. Well acted, great script. Memorable lines. Plus, I work daily with sales weasels in my job, and this was a stunningly good insight into the mind of a desperate salesman.
My do gooder viewing:
Fast Food Nation. A fictionalized rendition of the hard-hitting book. I read the book and was seriously moved. The film did it no justice.
My surprisingly good:
Little Miss Sunshine. Way better than I thought it would be…added touch of the family coming from New Mexico.
The nod to the legends:
Gotta watch a classic every now and again to see how it's done. The Lion in Winter fit the bill. Great script, crappy editing, great cast. A VERY young Timothy Dalton is yummy! And Katharine Heburn, well into her sixties, still rocks the screen.
Coming through the speakers:
Been struggling with music lately. It's my favorite distraction but I find I'm tending to listen to the stuff I already have, occasionally buying a single song or two from iTunes. Nothing is firing me up lately. I'm mostly back in the old stuff. On a Glen Campbell jag lately (would love to catch him live). Mostly my listening is limited to my Sirius radio. Channel 62, The Roadhouse, playing oldies country. (yes, I admit it).
So I'm open to suggestions here. I've grabbed a couple of the Song of the Day free downloads from Starbucks, but nothing yet has fired me up.
This sort of depresses me. For me, music is essential to my sanity. The search continues.
On the 'net:
Just found the blog Confessions of a Pioneer Woman. Again, where the hell have I been? I'm only a couple days in but this is pretty entertaining…the ongoing tales of a city woman who married a country man and moved to the middle of nowhere. She's smart, witty and surprisingly open. Fun. Her Ethel channeling Britney sound clip is worth the click. Found this blog from the comments section on a jezebel.com article about women prefering cowboys to city boys. I could weigh in on that topic another time....
And I'm stupidly addicted to I Can Haz Cheezburger?. I dream one day my cat will do something interesting enough so I can lol cat her heiny. For now, all she does is sit on my desk and look at me disapprovingly.
See?
October 19, 2007
Sheepish
Owing to my good Catholic upbringing, it takes very little to toss me to the throes of guilt.
And I have it, baby! Catholic guilt, that is.
And owing to my good Catholic upbringing (tho currently quite non-practicing), confession is good for the soul, right?
Here it is:
Yesterday…I got a speeding ticket. *gasp!*
Yep, I've been having crap commutes lately. Yesterday morning my thirty-minute commute took seventy. The night before, stop and go and stop and go and…well, you get the idea.
So I took off early yesterday to 1) avoid the commute and 2) spend more time with The Cute Boy™. So gleeful was I that I guess I put my leaden foot a little too hard on the gas. I say "I guess" because I don't know for sure, but I do know that a CHP pulled my arse over (and they are NOT as cool as Ponch and John, let me tell you).
The officer glared at me, I guess he has to. God knows what they come up on during traffic stops. He took my license, my registration, my insurance card and wrote up a ticket.
I've never gotten a ticket in California. I guess ten years is a pretty good run, eh? My last ticket was in 1994 in New Mexico. I glanced at the ticket to see how much I'd have to pay. It doesn't work quite that easy here, you get a ticket with a "notice to appear" then I guess they send you a letter where you can either pay some money or go to court.
The nice CHP gentleman did not say he used a radar, so I *could* try to go to court to fight it. A quick Google of the officer's name turned up that he's a quite well respected member of the force, and had a nice write up in a local paper for his hard work.
Yeah, I don't think I'd stand a chance in court.
I found the California fine schedule online. Let's just say the fine is ouch-worthy. I shall pay the fine and be a lot more cautious about the needle on the ol' speedometer.
Ok, I guess today I'll go do an act of contrition or something to help me find my penance (in addition to the pain of writing a check to a state that already way overtaxes me).
My first act of penance was to ride CalTrain to work……..I gave myself a vehicular time out.
Do you think Governor Arnold will grant me absolution?
The silver lining is maybe riding the commuter rail will give me some good blogging ideas……
Edit: Oh no! It's a conspiracy! The Man trying to bring down the displaced New Mexicans!!!
(image via)
And I have it, baby! Catholic guilt, that is.
And owing to my good Catholic upbringing (tho currently quite non-practicing), confession is good for the soul, right?
Here it is:
Yesterday…I got a speeding ticket. *gasp!*
Yep, I've been having crap commutes lately. Yesterday morning my thirty-minute commute took seventy. The night before, stop and go and stop and go and…well, you get the idea.
So I took off early yesterday to 1) avoid the commute and 2) spend more time with The Cute Boy™. So gleeful was I that I guess I put my leaden foot a little too hard on the gas. I say "I guess" because I don't know for sure, but I do know that a CHP pulled my arse over (and they are NOT as cool as Ponch and John, let me tell you).
The officer glared at me, I guess he has to. God knows what they come up on during traffic stops. He took my license, my registration, my insurance card and wrote up a ticket.
I've never gotten a ticket in California. I guess ten years is a pretty good run, eh? My last ticket was in 1994 in New Mexico. I glanced at the ticket to see how much I'd have to pay. It doesn't work quite that easy here, you get a ticket with a "notice to appear" then I guess they send you a letter where you can either pay some money or go to court.
The nice CHP gentleman did not say he used a radar, so I *could* try to go to court to fight it. A quick Google of the officer's name turned up that he's a quite well respected member of the force, and had a nice write up in a local paper for his hard work.
Yeah, I don't think I'd stand a chance in court.
I found the California fine schedule online. Let's just say the fine is ouch-worthy. I shall pay the fine and be a lot more cautious about the needle on the ol' speedometer.
Ok, I guess today I'll go do an act of contrition or something to help me find my penance (in addition to the pain of writing a check to a state that already way overtaxes me).
My first act of penance was to ride CalTrain to work……..I gave myself a vehicular time out.
Do you think Governor Arnold will grant me absolution?
The silver lining is maybe riding the commuter rail will give me some good blogging ideas……
Edit: Oh no! It's a conspiracy! The Man trying to bring down the displaced New Mexicans!!!
(image via)
October 18, 2007
The Results Are In
It's that time of year again. Chile roasting outside grocery stores. Hot air balloons hanging in the sky. Frosty nights and crunchy leaves.
And at work, that annual tradition known as performance reviews.
Now, I hate performance reviews. I know we have to. It's a whole human resources thang. I get it. But I hate them. I hate giving them. I hate receiving mine. I just hate the whole process.
I got them done for my staff a couple weeks back. Got them done without incident, which was nice. It helped I had some new folks that were too new to review, so I was able to struggle through the few I had and get them completed.
My Lady Boss, on the other hand, has an inordinate amount of employees so it's taken her longer. Yesterday was the last day to get 'em done, and we squeaked it in under the wire.
As usual, I walked in knowing I worked my arse off this year, and yet was scared. This happens every year. I somehow always think there's something I'm missing. Something I failed to do. Something I did wrong and didn't know it. So with shaking legs I sat down and took my medicine.
Like usual, it was fine. She had many nice things to say. My Lady Boss is fairly new to the department and I still don't quite have a read on her, but now I got my report card. Now I know the teacher thinks I'm doing ok. (The best compliment was regarding the kick ass job my team did this year. They did all the work and it's not fair I get the credit, but I'm proud as hell of each and every one of them.)
She had a couple items for "development" that were spot on, and I appreciate her feedback. She then would up the review by reminding me that in 2008 I shouldn't argue so vocally and vehemently with (her boss) my Vice President. (I actually did this. I was angry. It was deserved. I don't regret it. But her point was well taken. I *could* have presented my case a bit better…..)
I got a better than average rating and a slightly better than average raise. However, "slightly better than average" at this company means "just slightly above the CPI". It's true, I checked. But you know what? I'll take it. My friend who also works here got NO raise. Yep. Zip, zero, zilch, nada. And he worked hard this year. So my meager increase is something. With that, I'll get back to work and rest easy for another year, at least on that front.
Ever forward, back into battle.
And at work, that annual tradition known as performance reviews.
Now, I hate performance reviews. I know we have to. It's a whole human resources thang. I get it. But I hate them. I hate giving them. I hate receiving mine. I just hate the whole process.
I got them done for my staff a couple weeks back. Got them done without incident, which was nice. It helped I had some new folks that were too new to review, so I was able to struggle through the few I had and get them completed.
My Lady Boss, on the other hand, has an inordinate amount of employees so it's taken her longer. Yesterday was the last day to get 'em done, and we squeaked it in under the wire.
As usual, I walked in knowing I worked my arse off this year, and yet was scared. This happens every year. I somehow always think there's something I'm missing. Something I failed to do. Something I did wrong and didn't know it. So with shaking legs I sat down and took my medicine.
Like usual, it was fine. She had many nice things to say. My Lady Boss is fairly new to the department and I still don't quite have a read on her, but now I got my report card. Now I know the teacher thinks I'm doing ok. (The best compliment was regarding the kick ass job my team did this year. They did all the work and it's not fair I get the credit, but I'm proud as hell of each and every one of them.)
She had a couple items for "development" that were spot on, and I appreciate her feedback. She then would up the review by reminding me that in 2008 I shouldn't argue so vocally and vehemently with (her boss) my Vice President. (I actually did this. I was angry. It was deserved. I don't regret it. But her point was well taken. I *could* have presented my case a bit better…..)
I got a better than average rating and a slightly better than average raise. However, "slightly better than average" at this company means "just slightly above the CPI". It's true, I checked. But you know what? I'll take it. My friend who also works here got NO raise. Yep. Zip, zero, zilch, nada. And he worked hard this year. So my meager increase is something. With that, I'll get back to work and rest easy for another year, at least on that front.
Ever forward, back into battle.
October 17, 2007
Hey, now that's cool!
It's no secret I'm a bit of a baseball fan. My team's season ended in a blaze of humiliation, some 18 games out of first place. To make it worse, two teams from our division, the Arizona Diamondbacks and the Colorado Rockies made to the post season.
Oh the pain of watching the competition extend their season.
Been having a hard time deciding who to root for in post-season games. I think I'm loving the under-dog, whooda-thunkit magic season of the Rockies. So in the NL, they are my team (not a tough decision given the lightening in a bottle they have working), especially after rolling over the Diamondbacks in four straight games.
In the AL, it's harder to decide. I mean, I like the Indians, they are a ne'er do well and know the pain, like my beloved Giants, of going to the World Series and coming home empty handed. I have a good friend who is from Cleveland so out of respect to her, I've been mostly cheering on the Indians. However, in previous years, I've been a post-season Red Sox fan. So I guess all this is by way of saying I'm waffling…..
In today's ABQjournal I read an interesting article that I'm now taking into account while sitting on the AL fence.
While the young man mentioned in the article, Jacoby Ellsbury, isn't a New Mexico native (cuz then I'd be off the fence and on his side in heartbeat), he does have ties to New Mexico.
Plus I just think it's pretty damn cool that he's the first Native American of Navajo descent to play in the majors. He was called up to Boston in August when Coco Crisp went out with an injury and so wowed critics and fans that Francona added him to the 40-man roster in September. Now in his first year in the bigs, he's playing on a post-season team trying to get to the World Series. He's been praised for both his speed and enthusiasm and is a pretty good hitter.
Damn, that rocks. Gonna have to squint at the screen a little more now to get a look at this up-and-comer. Maybe he can log some playing time in the ALCS and I'll just have to root for him.
I always did love a story of someone living the dream.
Oh the pain of watching the competition extend their season.
Been having a hard time deciding who to root for in post-season games. I think I'm loving the under-dog, whooda-thunkit magic season of the Rockies. So in the NL, they are my team (not a tough decision given the lightening in a bottle they have working), especially after rolling over the Diamondbacks in four straight games.
In the AL, it's harder to decide. I mean, I like the Indians, they are a ne'er do well and know the pain, like my beloved Giants, of going to the World Series and coming home empty handed. I have a good friend who is from Cleveland so out of respect to her, I've been mostly cheering on the Indians. However, in previous years, I've been a post-season Red Sox fan. So I guess all this is by way of saying I'm waffling…..
In today's ABQjournal I read an interesting article that I'm now taking into account while sitting on the AL fence.
While the young man mentioned in the article, Jacoby Ellsbury, isn't a New Mexico native (cuz then I'd be off the fence and on his side in heartbeat), he does have ties to New Mexico.
Plus I just think it's pretty damn cool that he's the first Native American of Navajo descent to play in the majors. He was called up to Boston in August when Coco Crisp went out with an injury and so wowed critics and fans that Francona added him to the 40-man roster in September. Now in his first year in the bigs, he's playing on a post-season team trying to get to the World Series. He's been praised for both his speed and enthusiasm and is a pretty good hitter.
Damn, that rocks. Gonna have to squint at the screen a little more now to get a look at this up-and-comer. Maybe he can log some playing time in the ALCS and I'll just have to root for him.
I always did love a story of someone living the dream.
October 16, 2007
It's a short walk from me to thee
Often when I'm bored at work or killing time until my next meeting (too many of those today), I like to look at the "odd news" on Yahoo. I mean, I LOVE weird-ass stories. But inevitably, I find one story that makes me uncomfortable. One of those "wow, with a slightly different set of circumstances, that could be me."
So this afternoon, exhausted from the day, I took a peek at the latest crop of weird news. And here it is, the story that "but for the grace of < fill in all seeing entity of your choice >, that could be me."
From the Associated Press on Friday.
Basically, a guy got drunk and then angrily attacked the Halloween display at a woman's house. Guy went flailing after inflatable ghosts and a pumpkin. The owner reported "she heard hollering and swearing and looked outside to see Odee struggling with the giant pumpkin." When she yelled at him, he then smashed his head through a window.
The police were called and "after a brief struggle" he was arrested.
I dunno, it sounds wacky, but didja ever get so mad you wanted to punch one of those cutsey ghouls populated on someone's front lawn? Or wanted to kick the fun animated light up reindeer that it seems everyone has each year? Or thought you'd feel better if you dropped your aged vehicle into four wheel drive and ran asunder over someone's *fabulous* holiday display?
No?
Oh, it's just me, then.
Go on about your business.....
So this afternoon, exhausted from the day, I took a peek at the latest crop of weird news. And here it is, the story that "but for the grace of < fill in all seeing entity of your choice >, that could be me."
From the Associated Press on Friday.
Basically, a guy got drunk and then angrily attacked the Halloween display at a woman's house. Guy went flailing after inflatable ghosts and a pumpkin. The owner reported "she heard hollering and swearing and looked outside to see Odee struggling with the giant pumpkin." When she yelled at him, he then smashed his head through a window.
The police were called and "after a brief struggle" he was arrested.
I dunno, it sounds wacky, but didja ever get so mad you wanted to punch one of those cutsey ghouls populated on someone's front lawn? Or wanted to kick the fun animated light up reindeer that it seems everyone has each year? Or thought you'd feel better if you dropped your aged vehicle into four wheel drive and ran asunder over someone's *fabulous* holiday display?
No?
Oh, it's just me, then.
Go on about your business.....
October 15, 2007
I hope I'm this sprightly at age 70
The Cute Boy™ and I have been talking a lot lately about the subject of aging. Not that either of us are all that old, but both of us are old enough to start pondering our own mortality. Cold weather brings creaky joints that didn't used to creak. "My back hurts" replaces "I'm so hungover" in my vernacular. I suppose this doesn't get better as the years pass by. (and, have you noticed, the years are passing more quickly than ever?)
So with aching knees and cold hands wrapped around a coffee mug, I read an article in the Albuquerque Tribune (now with a buyer!) about Merle Haggard. Now, I'm a longtime fan of Merle. You know how some musicians comprise part of the soundtrack of your life? That's Merle to me. "Silver Wings" brings up a *very* specific memory (and if my best friend in the whole wide world is reading this, she knows exactly which memory I'm talkin' about). "My Favorite Memory" is another fave…and one of the few songs I learned to play on acoustic guitar. Merle doesn't play deep or complicated guitar chords. He doesn't need to. His lyrics can, with an economy of words, cut right to the heart. He is indeed a poet, as the Trib article points out.
So how do I tie all this together? My aching joints and Merle?
Well, at age 70, Merle is making a new album. It's a bit of a departure for him. He's doing a disc of bluegrass music, all original songs, which I think is amazing. He's got a voice made for country, and now hardened by time, I imagine bluegrass will suit him well.
After decades in the business, he's still got The Muse running in his veins. At an age where he's made enough music and money to retire, he can't. The words still flow.
"I guess the reason for writing songs is to make money," Haggard said, "but then you go back and say, `I'd like to write a song that will be remembered forever.' That's more interesting to me than the checks, even."
It's a rare bit of integrity in the music market. And memorable songs are what Haggard has done.
This line kills me…it's so right on, at least to my way of thinking:
"I like to write something that you can photograph. If there's no picture there, what's your album cover or your CD cover going to be? In most cases, you'll find it's just a picture of the artist, because they don't have a picture, and it's kind of sad."
I may not be a musician, but I'm a writer, a lover of words, and I work real hard at putting words together in such a way that someone who reads them can see a picture. Merle not only creates these pictures, but lasting images that stay in the mind. That, my friends, is pure talent.
"…You can't have any emotional songs anymore; they won't play them. Someone might look up from their computer, and they don't want that. It might disturb somebody. And it all sounds like water to me. . . ."
And at age 70, he's rasty as ever. Love it. He's even planning a tour to support this new album…having just come off a tour.
I can only hope/pray/dream/beg that I'm as full of The Muse, the energy and the drive at age 70.
So with aching knees and cold hands wrapped around a coffee mug, I read an article in the Albuquerque Tribune (now with a buyer!) about Merle Haggard. Now, I'm a longtime fan of Merle. You know how some musicians comprise part of the soundtrack of your life? That's Merle to me. "Silver Wings" brings up a *very* specific memory (and if my best friend in the whole wide world is reading this, she knows exactly which memory I'm talkin' about). "My Favorite Memory" is another fave…and one of the few songs I learned to play on acoustic guitar. Merle doesn't play deep or complicated guitar chords. He doesn't need to. His lyrics can, with an economy of words, cut right to the heart. He is indeed a poet, as the Trib article points out.
So how do I tie all this together? My aching joints and Merle?
Well, at age 70, Merle is making a new album. It's a bit of a departure for him. He's doing a disc of bluegrass music, all original songs, which I think is amazing. He's got a voice made for country, and now hardened by time, I imagine bluegrass will suit him well.
After decades in the business, he's still got The Muse running in his veins. At an age where he's made enough music and money to retire, he can't. The words still flow.
"I guess the reason for writing songs is to make money," Haggard said, "but then you go back and say, `I'd like to write a song that will be remembered forever.' That's more interesting to me than the checks, even."
It's a rare bit of integrity in the music market. And memorable songs are what Haggard has done.
This line kills me…it's so right on, at least to my way of thinking:
"I like to write something that you can photograph. If there's no picture there, what's your album cover or your CD cover going to be? In most cases, you'll find it's just a picture of the artist, because they don't have a picture, and it's kind of sad."
I may not be a musician, but I'm a writer, a lover of words, and I work real hard at putting words together in such a way that someone who reads them can see a picture. Merle not only creates these pictures, but lasting images that stay in the mind. That, my friends, is pure talent.
"…You can't have any emotional songs anymore; they won't play them. Someone might look up from their computer, and they don't want that. It might disturb somebody. And it all sounds like water to me. . . ."
And at age 70, he's rasty as ever. Love it. He's even planning a tour to support this new album…having just come off a tour.
I can only hope/pray/dream/beg that I'm as full of The Muse, the energy and the drive at age 70.
October 10, 2007
When it's time to put your electronic device down
Had a pretty good laugh today reading an AP story about cell phone users feeling "phantom vibrations".
The Cute Boy™ and I have talked about this one before. My life, unfortunately, revolves around the wireless industry, and I'm constantly surrounded by < obscenity deleted >* cell phones.
If you have to be tethered to one of the damn things like I do, then you've probably had this phenomenon. Or….if you've ever had a hot date and you are waiting desperately for them to call, that's also a fine time for you to lunge for your pocket only to realize it wasn't your phone, it was you.
Lately I'm also getting phantom ringing. There are so many ding dang devices in the world, and they all beep, whine, tweet, chirp and whatever, that I think it must be my phone. I mean, the galdurn thing has a bunch of functions I don't even know how to use. A few weeks back, The Cute Boy™ and I were in the car. A new chirp emitted from somewhere in the car. It was an unfamiliar sound. We looked at each other. "What was that?" I asked. "I don't know," he replied.
I mean….how bad is it when there are so many electronic sounds in the air that you can no longer accurately identify the source?
It makes it worse that here at work all employees now carry the same phone. Which means they make the same set of noises. It's kind of funny in a crowded meeting when one phone chirps and twenty people lunge for it. Funny in a "holy crap is this what we've become" kind of not-so-funny way.
So, yes, I admit it, I'm a "phantom vibrate" person**…and a phantom ring too. Today I took off for a meeting across campus at work and (*gasp*), forgot my phone back in the office. And while in the meeting, someone's phone rang. And even though I KNEW I didn't have my phone, I still reached into my pocket...to find, my keys. Well there you have it, the downfall of civilization.
By the by…does anyone else have a microwave that nudges you when it's done? I mean, I can pop a bowl of soup in there for a couple minutes, then be doing something else. I *hear* the end beep. Then every minute or so, it beeps again. I really, really hate that. My life…managed by a microwave…and an iPhone…and the beeps and bells in my car…and let's not even start on the strange noises my computer makes.
Remember when a phone just rang, and made that "shuk-shuk-shuk" noise when you dialed?
*Self censored in the interest of keeping this blog to a reasonable length. The string of curse words that I use to describe cell phones is both lengthy and sufficiently blue enough to make a sailor blush.
**Heh..when I first wrote that sentence, I said "I'm a 'phantom vibrator'…" That's a WHOLE other blog, no?
The Cute Boy™ and I have talked about this one before. My life, unfortunately, revolves around the wireless industry, and I'm constantly surrounded by < obscenity deleted >* cell phones.
If you have to be tethered to one of the damn things like I do, then you've probably had this phenomenon. Or….if you've ever had a hot date and you are waiting desperately for them to call, that's also a fine time for you to lunge for your pocket only to realize it wasn't your phone, it was you.
Lately I'm also getting phantom ringing. There are so many ding dang devices in the world, and they all beep, whine, tweet, chirp and whatever, that I think it must be my phone. I mean, the galdurn thing has a bunch of functions I don't even know how to use. A few weeks back, The Cute Boy™ and I were in the car. A new chirp emitted from somewhere in the car. It was an unfamiliar sound. We looked at each other. "What was that?" I asked. "I don't know," he replied.
I mean….how bad is it when there are so many electronic sounds in the air that you can no longer accurately identify the source?
It makes it worse that here at work all employees now carry the same phone. Which means they make the same set of noises. It's kind of funny in a crowded meeting when one phone chirps and twenty people lunge for it. Funny in a "holy crap is this what we've become" kind of not-so-funny way.
So, yes, I admit it, I'm a "phantom vibrate" person**…and a phantom ring too. Today I took off for a meeting across campus at work and (*gasp*), forgot my phone back in the office. And while in the meeting, someone's phone rang. And even though I KNEW I didn't have my phone, I still reached into my pocket...to find, my keys. Well there you have it, the downfall of civilization.
By the by…does anyone else have a microwave that nudges you when it's done? I mean, I can pop a bowl of soup in there for a couple minutes, then be doing something else. I *hear* the end beep. Then every minute or so, it beeps again. I really, really hate that. My life…managed by a microwave…and an iPhone…and the beeps and bells in my car…and let's not even start on the strange noises my computer makes.
Remember when a phone just rang, and made that "shuk-shuk-shuk" noise when you dialed?
*Self censored in the interest of keeping this blog to a reasonable length. The string of curse words that I use to describe cell phones is both lengthy and sufficiently blue enough to make a sailor blush.
**Heh..when I first wrote that sentence, I said "I'm a 'phantom vibrator'…" That's a WHOLE other blog, no?
October 9, 2007
Proud
Oh Fair New Mexico, how great thou art. Once again my home state is contributing to not only the economy of the world, but to our overall wellbeing.
Those hard working researchers at University of New Mexico have been selflessly spending hours upon grueling hours in strip clubs conducting an in depth and meaningful analysis. The purpose of all this hard work is to determine at which point in a woman's monthly cycle does she earn the most money (in the form of tips).
That's right, ladies! Turn on the charm when you are ovulating and you too can rake in the cash! But look out when Aunt Flo is about...you'll not be making the dough. Oh, also, if you are on the pill, apparently you send out an "early pregnancy" vibe (cuz the pill tricks your body) and the boys won't throw as much cash your way.
"Miller suggests scheduling more shifts for the phase right before ovulation: 'It might help to know about this so that you can exploit these effects.'"
Now THIS is science!
(source and via)
Those hard working researchers at University of New Mexico have been selflessly spending hours upon grueling hours in strip clubs conducting an in depth and meaningful analysis. The purpose of all this hard work is to determine at which point in a woman's monthly cycle does she earn the most money (in the form of tips).
That's right, ladies! Turn on the charm when you are ovulating and you too can rake in the cash! But look out when Aunt Flo is about...you'll not be making the dough. Oh, also, if you are on the pill, apparently you send out an "early pregnancy" vibe (cuz the pill tricks your body) and the boys won't throw as much cash your way.
"Miller suggests scheduling more shifts for the phase right before ovulation: 'It might help to know about this so that you can exploit these effects.'"
Now THIS is science!
(source and via)
October 8, 2007
Shusshing the demons
I have made it no secret here on these pages that there have been tumultuous times in my life recently. Work. Personal. Mental. Emotional. Physical. You name it, I'm tweaked out on it.
I've been sort of at a white knuckle, nail biting, not sleeping place lately which kicks off lots of crazy internal demons. Old stuff, way back machine stuff.
But I refuse to let the demons win, so I'm fighting the valiant fight to put da monstas back in da cage.
In the past, I've fought all of this alone. I'm sort of used to doing this myself. I've not had much in the way of supportive partners in my life, to be honest.
Until now. The Cute Boy™ is here. And he's a good man.
Yesterday he told me he had a surprise. I was too tired, weak and demoralized to fight very hard. "Okay," I said and went along for the ride.
The Cute Boy™ had a good surprise up his sleeve.
See, I've studied a lot of "woo woo" stuff in my life, from one extreme to the other with varying degrees of success. Several years ago I took a Learning Annex class on walking a labyrinth. It's a form of walking meditation that I really liked.
When I can get my monkey mind to meditate, it usually helps. A lot. I've been talking at starting meditation again for a long while but not doing anything about it.
So The Cute Boy™, either tired of me flapping my lips at meditation and not really doing it, or because he's worried about my freaked out ass, took me up to San Francisco yesterday to Grace Cathedral. They have not one but two labyrinths there, one inside and one outside.
Walking in I was unsure if I was in the right mental state to do this thing. Walking out two and a half hours later after three walks and much thoughts, I realized some good thinking had been done.
I slept better last night. My sister called this morning. She's worried about me. She said, quite surprised, "wow, you sound MUCH better".
Those crazy ancients might really have been on to something....
And it's confirmed...The Cute Boy™ is a keeper.
(this is the Native American "man in the maze", which is also a labrynth)
I've been sort of at a white knuckle, nail biting, not sleeping place lately which kicks off lots of crazy internal demons. Old stuff, way back machine stuff.
But I refuse to let the demons win, so I'm fighting the valiant fight to put da monstas back in da cage.
In the past, I've fought all of this alone. I'm sort of used to doing this myself. I've not had much in the way of supportive partners in my life, to be honest.
Until now. The Cute Boy™ is here. And he's a good man.
Yesterday he told me he had a surprise. I was too tired, weak and demoralized to fight very hard. "Okay," I said and went along for the ride.
The Cute Boy™ had a good surprise up his sleeve.
See, I've studied a lot of "woo woo" stuff in my life, from one extreme to the other with varying degrees of success. Several years ago I took a Learning Annex class on walking a labyrinth. It's a form of walking meditation that I really liked.
When I can get my monkey mind to meditate, it usually helps. A lot. I've been talking at starting meditation again for a long while but not doing anything about it.
So The Cute Boy™, either tired of me flapping my lips at meditation and not really doing it, or because he's worried about my freaked out ass, took me up to San Francisco yesterday to Grace Cathedral. They have not one but two labyrinths there, one inside and one outside.
Walking in I was unsure if I was in the right mental state to do this thing. Walking out two and a half hours later after three walks and much thoughts, I realized some good thinking had been done.
I slept better last night. My sister called this morning. She's worried about me. She said, quite surprised, "wow, you sound MUCH better".
Those crazy ancients might really have been on to something....
And it's confirmed...The Cute Boy™ is a keeper.
(this is the Native American "man in the maze", which is also a labrynth)
October 5, 2007
Same planet, different world
Today I'm shamelessly ripping off something found over at the awesome blog Duke City Fix.
Read a brief story today 'bout them crazy Londoners…..road closures and evacuations because a Thai restaurant was cooking up some spicy chiles. Called out the fire brigade and the chemical response team, they did.
Best line in the story: "firefighters smashed down the door of the Thai Cottage restaurant and seized extra-hot bird's eye chilies"
Here's hoping they didn't seize them barehanded then later seize something while in the loo. Ouch.
Heh. They'd think Sept/Oct in New Mexico was all out warfare! Don't go to the grocery store, mate. You'll be a goner for sure! :)
Oh Fair New Mexico, 5000 miles away from London, and yet a world apart.
Happy Friday!
Read a brief story today 'bout them crazy Londoners…..road closures and evacuations because a Thai restaurant was cooking up some spicy chiles. Called out the fire brigade and the chemical response team, they did.
Best line in the story: "firefighters smashed down the door of the Thai Cottage restaurant and seized extra-hot bird's eye chilies"
Here's hoping they didn't seize them barehanded then later seize something while in the loo. Ouch.
Heh. They'd think Sept/Oct in New Mexico was all out warfare! Don't go to the grocery store, mate. You'll be a goner for sure! :)
Oh Fair New Mexico, 5000 miles away from London, and yet a world apart.
Happy Friday!
October 4, 2007
The times, they are a changin'
Just because it's time, almost over due, doesn't mean there isn't some sense of disbelief that an era is over.
According to the ABQjournal, Senator Pete Domenici will announce his retirement later today. He has been Senator for 36 years, just a few years less than my lifetime. Growing up in New Mexico, Domenici's name was always in the news. He went from a "who is that" to a fairly powerful guy on Capitol Hill. I was always happy for a New Mexico guy to make good, make a name, so people knew we had smart folks from New Mexico over there.
I know lately he's fallen out of favor for a variety of misdeeds. I'm not much of a political person, honestly. I can't talk articulately about Domenici's career, the high points, the low points. I'll leave more of that to my friends Avelino at his Live From Silver City blog and of course former Mayor of Albuquerque Jim Baca at his Only in New Mexico blog.
My lament today is how much things in my world seem to be changing. Today we have a lunch to see off one of my best and favorite employees. She's moving on to a great job and we're all really happy for her. It's a big blow to our team. But change must happen.
There are a lot of huge changes going on in my personal life too, most changes for the better, but changes nonetheless.
My "woo woo" teachers would say that's the hallmark of Fall. The days shorten up, the ground goes cold. Circle of life. Death and rebirth. All of that.
Give me time, I'll be philosophical later. For today I'm just sad. Ok, not that I'm all broke up about Domenici leaving office, just the huge change it brings (just skeered as hell that Wilson might get that seat).
I remember my days working at Sandia where we called him "Saint Pete" because he was always able to finagle funds to keep Sandia rolling, despite all the protests to reduce funding to the nuclear labs. How far he's fallen…
Anyhow, I guess it's owing to my sign of Taurus that change is troublesome. I'll follow my family tradition and worry myself sick about it. Then, I'll rebound, get perspective, and be fine.
I'm always fine, eventually.
*sigh*
Well…off to the going away lunch…..
According to the ABQjournal, Senator Pete Domenici will announce his retirement later today. He has been Senator for 36 years, just a few years less than my lifetime. Growing up in New Mexico, Domenici's name was always in the news. He went from a "who is that" to a fairly powerful guy on Capitol Hill. I was always happy for a New Mexico guy to make good, make a name, so people knew we had smart folks from New Mexico over there.
I know lately he's fallen out of favor for a variety of misdeeds. I'm not much of a political person, honestly. I can't talk articulately about Domenici's career, the high points, the low points. I'll leave more of that to my friends Avelino at his Live From Silver City blog and of course former Mayor of Albuquerque Jim Baca at his Only in New Mexico blog.
My lament today is how much things in my world seem to be changing. Today we have a lunch to see off one of my best and favorite employees. She's moving on to a great job and we're all really happy for her. It's a big blow to our team. But change must happen.
There are a lot of huge changes going on in my personal life too, most changes for the better, but changes nonetheless.
My "woo woo" teachers would say that's the hallmark of Fall. The days shorten up, the ground goes cold. Circle of life. Death and rebirth. All of that.
Give me time, I'll be philosophical later. For today I'm just sad. Ok, not that I'm all broke up about Domenici leaving office, just the huge change it brings (just skeered as hell that Wilson might get that seat).
I remember my days working at Sandia where we called him "Saint Pete" because he was always able to finagle funds to keep Sandia rolling, despite all the protests to reduce funding to the nuclear labs. How far he's fallen…
Anyhow, I guess it's owing to my sign of Taurus that change is troublesome. I'll follow my family tradition and worry myself sick about it. Then, I'll rebound, get perspective, and be fine.
I'm always fine, eventually.
*sigh*
Well…off to the going away lunch…..
October 2, 2007
Ok, this is not funny….
…and yet it is.
ABQjournal reporting today about a peeping tom not only getting caught but getting whacked in the head by the angry father toting a baseball bat.
Apparently the jerko was looking in the window of a FOURTEEN year old girl in South Santa Fe. The girl's brother spotted the creep and told his dad. They took up a broom handle and a bat went outside to catch the pervert. Dad whacked the loser upside the head. Police found him, fly open, "conscious but unresponsive".
The eighteen year old was airlifted to hospital with a fractured skull.
Paid the cost for getting his freebie jollies off a child, he did.
Back in "the early years" after I'd graduated college and had my first apartment on my own, I was getting ready for work one day and out of the corner of my eye and between the venetian blinds saw something move on my patio. I looked closer to see a man walk up, bend down and start looking in my windows. I screamed, in a way I never knew I was capable of, and the guy took off.
I reported it to the managing office, and they couldn't be less concerned. I. Was. Freaked. Out.
Later, I guess after a few more women reported a peeping Tom, they did get security guards. Never knew if they caught the guy.
What I wouldn't give to have taken a Louisville Slugger to his cranium.
So it's an evil black humor mirthful laugh I have at the expense of the injured lad. But truly, it's not funny…none of it is….
Karma being what it is…I think his balance is paid in full.
ABQjournal reporting today about a peeping tom not only getting caught but getting whacked in the head by the angry father toting a baseball bat.
Apparently the jerko was looking in the window of a FOURTEEN year old girl in South Santa Fe. The girl's brother spotted the creep and told his dad. They took up a broom handle and a bat went outside to catch the pervert. Dad whacked the loser upside the head. Police found him, fly open, "conscious but unresponsive".
The eighteen year old was airlifted to hospital with a fractured skull.
Paid the cost for getting his freebie jollies off a child, he did.
Back in "the early years" after I'd graduated college and had my first apartment on my own, I was getting ready for work one day and out of the corner of my eye and between the venetian blinds saw something move on my patio. I looked closer to see a man walk up, bend down and start looking in my windows. I screamed, in a way I never knew I was capable of, and the guy took off.
I reported it to the managing office, and they couldn't be less concerned. I. Was. Freaked. Out.
Later, I guess after a few more women reported a peeping Tom, they did get security guards. Never knew if they caught the guy.
What I wouldn't give to have taken a Louisville Slugger to his cranium.
So it's an evil black humor mirthful laugh I have at the expense of the injured lad. But truly, it's not funny…none of it is….
Karma being what it is…I think his balance is paid in full.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
