• The First Sentence Meme

    Now’s as good a time as any for a silly meme, seeing as how I haven’t done one in a little while, and also seeing as how I seem to be all out of posting inspiration. Call it the post-BloPoMo slump. Call it Eloise for all I care, really. Anyway, here goes:

    Post the first sentence from the first entry of each month this year.

    JAN: “I set myself a modest goal, three hundred sixty five days or so ago, of posting entries on at least 95% of the days of the calendar year and getting the overall site posting rate up into the upper 60 percent range (at the time it was at about 63%).” (Remember when I accomplished my personal goals? Ah, those were the days.)

    FEB: “I didn’t set out to spend a week avoiding my writing duties.” (Thus begins one of the most-commented-upon posts of my entire journal, in which I detail my experience with an IM spammer.)

    MAR: “I went to several minutes’ work to create this little monstrosity for a comment on a LiveJournal entry, so by golly I’m going to inflict it on I mean, share it with my adoring fans.” (I filked, sort of. This is back before I lost my job and, thus, any desire to create much of anything.)

    APR: “Twice in the last twelve hours I’ve called the (polite, efficient, helpful) Dedicated Hosting support techs at Infinity Internet (our new hosts!) to reboot this webserver.” (It took moving to yet another server, several months later, to make the worst of our website problems go away.)

    MAY: “To Whom It May Concern: Perhaps your company or similar organization requires someone of considerable skill with computer technology.” (The “please hire me!” posting. I was sliding rapidly toward complete despair at this point.)

    JUN: “Because Lil’ did it, and because I haven’t posted in a while, and because well, meh.” (It was a meme post. Go figure.)

    JUL: “No more “unenjoyment” for this little grey duck!” (This may be the happiest post in my entire year.)

    AUG: “If you catch the killer, red-handed even, and it’s a hot day in late July, and you gun him down (you’ll figure out how to make it look like self defense later) does that make it a summer-y execution?” (As George Carlin once quipped, “These are the thoughts that kept me out of the really good schools.” Yes, I think of stuff like this all the time. You’d see more of it here if I could remember any of it long enough to get to a computer…)

    SEP: “Via collision detection, I bring you the results of my recent fiddling about with the Official Seal Generator.” (It’s a fun toy, what can I say?)

    OCT: “I flaked, oh yes indeed, on the real-life update thing.” (Understatement of the decade.)

    NOV: “Wait, what? It’s November already?” (One exclamation, one sentence. So what?)

    DEC: “So, after a solid 30 days’ posting, I decided to take a few days off.” (The first sentence in the previous post, no less. Heh.)

    And because I adore you people, I’ll crank out another posting later on today. Who rocks the Casbah, baby? (Speaking of which: Do people actually have problems with that line from The Clash’s most famous song? Because, you know, I keep hearing an idiotic commercial on the radio, and, huh? If you think they’re singing about a catbox, you need professional help.)

  • Thus ends my brief vacation.

    So, after a solid 30 days’ posting, I decided to take a few days off. Did you miss me?

    Of course you did.

    I’d say that the highlight of my weekend was the trip on the Mt. Hood Railroad, complete with “murder mystery.” Kyla and I joined The Roomie and His Girlfriend at the company holiday dinner party, way out in the frozen and windy Columbia River Gorge. We drank (cocoa and Martinelli’s for me) and ate (prime rib… very, very good prime rib) and were entertained by the swaying motion of the train as it crawled ever-so-slowly up the hill and back again, as well as by the amateur theatre troupe hired to amuse and mindboggle the passengers. If I’d been paying the least bit of attention, I’d have guessed “whodunnit.” Alas, I didn’t really care, as I was having more fun keeping company with friends and coworkers. We all had a pretty good time; it was deucedly cold, though!

    On Sunday, we went shopping and quickly spent my Christmas bonus (note: about twice as big of one as I ever received from my former employers!) on about 1/3 practical stuff (clothing), 1/3 toys for me, and 1/3… well, you’ll find out in a few weeks. Neener.

    Today was just another normal day at the office for me, and if I’m lucky the week will follow suit…

  • Neither An Isotope Nor A Rare Earth Be

    Maybe I’ve simply seen “Hamlet” too many times, but while enjoying lunch at the Pizza Schmizza near the office this afternoon I looked up at the TV screen and saw a news crawl about the poisoned spy and the first thought that flashed through my mind went something like this:

    “Polonium? What, is that the chemical element that gives trite advice, entices lesser elements to spy on its isotopes, and ends the last of its half-lives in a misadventure while eavesdropping on the Danish royal family?”

    (For the record: No, Polonium was so named by M. Curie as a political statement. Those wacky scientists!)

  • Almost There, Folks

    Our month-long nightmare of daily, banal posts from Yours Truly is almost at an end.

    What did I do today? I slept, mostly, and then read a book. I didn’t even eat until about 6pm. I suppose the good news is that I’m feeling marginally better, though still tired and feverish.

    Yay?

  • Verily I say unto you, BLEAH!

    It just figures, doesn’t it? No good deed goes unpunished, and my punishment (for spending two hours yesterday morning preventing people from using an ATM that eats cards) is that my cold has become ten times worse than the ever-so-mild nuisance that it was for most of the past week.

    Unfortunately, The Roomie and The Girlfriend both seem to have caught my little bug. Argh.

    So two of the three of us are home sick today, and the third isn’t doing so hot. Please, wish our household some “get well” mojo in general, ’cause right now we’re all fairly miserable.

    (I apologize to my NaBloPoMo readership for the fact that, due to circumstances entirely beyond my control, this month’s posting has consisted largely of statements upon my health. I’m not normally quite this banal, honest!)

  • Forgetting My Phone Was Only The Beginning

    Perhaps, if I catalog the sequence of events, it won’t look quite so bad.

    • In my mad dash to get out the door so I could catch the bus to work this morning, I forgot my phone.
    • The bus, which came a little bit late, got me downtown to SW Morrison just in time to watch the Blue Line MAX leave.
    • Since I had 15 minutes to kill before the next Blue Line train, I decided to put some cash in my empty wallet and maybe even buy a cup of cocoa. Hey, the WaMu branch was only a block or so away. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
    • Immediately after I inserted my debit card, the automatic teller machine displayed an oh-so-friendly error message, something along the lines of “Oops, there’s been some kind of problem. Support has been alerted, and soon everything will be sunshine and roses. Tee hee!”
    • This would’ve been bearable, since the downtown WaMu branch has two outdoor ATMs, but for the fact that the ATM I selected chose not to return my card.
    • I checked the business hours on the door: the branch opened at 9 o’clock. I checked the clock overhead: the time was 7 o’clock, sharp.
    • Several facts collided in my mind. These included such tidbits as, “I have no phone,” “I can’t call work,” “I can’t call WaMu,” “I have no cash,” “I have no debit card,” “Without said card I’m totally screwed,” “It’s awfully damned cold out here,” “If I want my card back I’ll have to wait for two hours in the cold,” “I haven’t eaten yet,” and “These guys from Knez Building Supplies must be having a jolly good snicker at my expense.”
    • For two hours I warned would-be automated banking customers away from The Bad Machine That Eats Cards. I also watched seagulls bullying pigeons around, and I watched the guys from Knez unload drywall onto a small cart and lower it on the lift to… somewhere below WaMu, I suppose. I heard one homeless woman berate another homeless woman at full volume, with exquisitely uncreative language. I watched the crane above the Meier & Frank Macy’s building swing ’round and ’round, but never did the operator lower the hook to hoist any material. This disappointed me greatly.
    • At 9:00, a cold and sore (I was expecting my feet to hurt, but after an hour my knees were killing me) and tired and hungry Yours Truly entered the bank branch and informed the first available (I waited politely, thank you) employee of what had taken place two hours earlier. Oddly enough, the woman behind me in line had experienced the same thing… at six o’clock, a full hour before my card was taken. Aha! I reveled in my Good Deed Vigil, as the line in the bank lobby would’ve been considerably longer had I chosen to leave for those two hours.
    • My card returned (and tested, in the other machine), I hurried to the westbound MAX station, only two find that two of the three ticket validators were out of order. Third time’s the charm, yes? That’s right, folks, it took two all-zone Tri-Met tickets to get to work this morning.
    • Once off the train at the Hillsboro Airport station, I hurried (as best I could, given how worn out I felt) to the office. At first the skies were clear, but then I felt moisture. Then I saw moisture. White, fluffy moisture. By the time I made it to the office door, I sported a nice light dusting of snow.
    • I regaled my coworkers (who were, to be sure, quite concerned since I was more than two hours late and hadn’t answered or returned any calls) with the tale of my morning. I knocked back the lukewarm cocoa (hey, I’m not complaining!) that The Roomie had provided (back when I was expected “any time now”) and settled into my workday.

    Hmm. Well, it could’ve been worse, and all’s well that ends well, right?