Something completely awesome happened last night that I can't wait to tell you about it, but it's not happening today because TODAY my stuff is here.
It took two and a half months for my things to get here. None of it was of particular importance, but it left me wondering what happens to people who do ship things like furniture and appliances. Do they live in a hotel for months? Eat take out every night? Turn tricks on the street in exchange for food and shelter?
I say my things weren't of particular importance. What I mean is not of particular importance to a sane person. They are of massive importance to me, mainly because 75% of the things I shipped are Christmas decorations AND I CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT THEM. (this was after paring down my Christmas decorations by more than half because I had no idea where I was going to put all of it. I might have a problem.) SO right now there's a pile of boxes in my kitchen mostly filled with Christmas decorations and I am gleefully opening them and looking at my stuff instead of telling you about the insanity that went down at the party I was at last night. SHUT UP IT'S SPARKLY.
Oh, I also found 50 Shades Freed in there, so I'll be finishing up that review, probably all in one post, as soon as I turn in my paper for class in a couple weeks, because holy shit grad school is a lot of work.
Showing posts with label moving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moving. Show all posts
Monday, November 04, 2013
Saturday, August 10, 2013
Candy Land? More like BRANDY Land, Amirite?
For my non-American audience (which is most of you), Candy Land is a children's board game that is so basic in concept it's usually one of the first two board games a child is given (the other being Snakes and Ladders, except here it's called Chutes and Ladders because we won't give kids pictures of cartoon snakes for some reason (I suspect this is discrimination against snakes for having two penises because we are puritans. By the way, snakes have two penises and are therefore crazy awesome. See also: sharks)). It's a bit different now from the way it was when I was a little ape, primarily in that the game board has way more shit going on since today's children have the attention span of a gnat, there's a spinner to find out which square you're going to next instead of cards, I assume because parents everywhere got sick of their children losing all the cards and/or drooling on them, and there's no more peanut brittle house because today's children have no idea what the fuck peanut brittle is:
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| Candy Land the way I remember it with peanut brittle and neapolitan ice cream and candy hearts |
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| Candy Land today. Note the pirate ship. WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH CANDY? |
Today I took a short break from dismantling my life for easier shipping and continued my boyfriend's education in American culture by teaching him how to play Candy Land. Except I may have made it into a drinking game and possibly also added stripping to it, a la poker. And StereoNinja may have passed out while we were on Skype because he was drunk by 6 pm and forgot to eat dinner, and I may have been drunk myself before noon. The point is I need to find a place for Candy Land in my luggage because I have completely corrupted a game intended for 3 year olds with booze and nudity. And that some animals have two penises.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Oh Hi, Internets. I Sure Do Miss You.
Let me tell you about moving to another country:
Take the amount of time you are estimating it will take you to get everything you own organized, packed, sold or given away and all of the paperwork done and everything else that needs sorting out, and multiply how long you think that's going to take you by 30. Then, a month later, look back at your revised estimate and laugh at how naive you were to think it would actually be that simple.
I started writing the above paragraph two days ago. I read it aloud to StereoNinja and he laughed when he was supposed to. Then, today, my visa came in the mail, at which point I started looking at flights and found one weird random flight that is EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLARS CHEAPER than any other flight, so I booked it because EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLARS CHEAPER YOU GUYS. The only flaw in this plan? This flight is 8 days before the day I had planned to leave. So basically, all the freaking out I was doing about how am I going to get all this stuff done OMGWTFBBQ I have just deliberately multiplied by 1000 BECAUSE I AM A CRAZY PERSON.
When I made the decision to move I deliberately did not think about it. I just made a decision and started working on how to get it done because if I had given it the kind of consideration one would normally give a decision of that magnitude I would have found 1000 stupid reasons why I shouldn't do it.But between getting the visa and booking a flight that leaves ridiculously soon, reality hit me earlier this evening like a bad simile for something very heavy. Because seriously, I am moving to a place where nothing is open on Sunday and where bleating lambs wake me up in the morning, and I have no job, and I'm going to school for the first time in 15 years for something that is a complete departure from my former career, and I have to learn how to drive on twisty, narrow streets because there are no straight roads in the whole country and it is 4000 miles away from Chicago, and oh yeah, did I mention that my new house has SPIDERS EVERYWHERE?
Our new house is on an island in the Thames and there are so many spiders in the house oh my god. StereoNinja is hilarious in that he thinks that all the spiders are there because the house sat empty for a year before he moved in, which I'm sure hasn't helped, but the real reason there are spiders everywhere is because we are surrounded by water, and therefore bugs, and therefore if you are a spider it is Thanksgiving EVERY DAY at my house. StereoNinja has bought me multiple cans of Raid for each floor in our house and I have been instructed to spray them with it and then leave the dead bodies there until StereoNinja gets home, which actually works ok except that I sprayed one who was on the ceiling and he fell and sort of floated to the floor which meant he could have GOTTEN ON ME so now I don't want to spray the ceiling ones. Which if they behave like the spiders in this country is where I most often find them. I'm trying to talk him into bug bombing the house before I get there. Failing that I am just going to have to hope that the accidental forced exposure therapy will serve to make me less of a crazy person.
And that's why I haven't told you yet about that thing I did where I took all my clothes off on stage.
Take the amount of time you are estimating it will take you to get everything you own organized, packed, sold or given away and all of the paperwork done and everything else that needs sorting out, and multiply how long you think that's going to take you by 30. Then, a month later, look back at your revised estimate and laugh at how naive you were to think it would actually be that simple.
I started writing the above paragraph two days ago. I read it aloud to StereoNinja and he laughed when he was supposed to. Then, today, my visa came in the mail, at which point I started looking at flights and found one weird random flight that is EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLARS CHEAPER than any other flight, so I booked it because EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLARS CHEAPER YOU GUYS. The only flaw in this plan? This flight is 8 days before the day I had planned to leave. So basically, all the freaking out I was doing about how am I going to get all this stuff done OMGWTFBBQ I have just deliberately multiplied by 1000 BECAUSE I AM A CRAZY PERSON.
When I made the decision to move I deliberately did not think about it. I just made a decision and started working on how to get it done because if I had given it the kind of consideration one would normally give a decision of that magnitude I would have found 1000 stupid reasons why I shouldn't do it.But between getting the visa and booking a flight that leaves ridiculously soon, reality hit me earlier this evening like a bad simile for something very heavy. Because seriously, I am moving to a place where nothing is open on Sunday and where bleating lambs wake me up in the morning, and I have no job, and I'm going to school for the first time in 15 years for something that is a complete departure from my former career, and I have to learn how to drive on twisty, narrow streets because there are no straight roads in the whole country and it is 4000 miles away from Chicago, and oh yeah, did I mention that my new house has SPIDERS EVERYWHERE?
Our new house is on an island in the Thames and there are so many spiders in the house oh my god. StereoNinja is hilarious in that he thinks that all the spiders are there because the house sat empty for a year before he moved in, which I'm sure hasn't helped, but the real reason there are spiders everywhere is because we are surrounded by water, and therefore bugs, and therefore if you are a spider it is Thanksgiving EVERY DAY at my house. StereoNinja has bought me multiple cans of Raid for each floor in our house and I have been instructed to spray them with it and then leave the dead bodies there until StereoNinja gets home, which actually works ok except that I sprayed one who was on the ceiling and he fell and sort of floated to the floor which meant he could have GOTTEN ON ME so now I don't want to spray the ceiling ones. Which if they behave like the spiders in this country is where I most often find them. I'm trying to talk him into bug bombing the house before I get there. Failing that I am just going to have to hope that the accidental forced exposure therapy will serve to make me less of a crazy person.
And that's why I haven't told you yet about that thing I did where I took all my clothes off on stage.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
This Post Will Not Be Funny
I just wanted to point out here that it was in no way my intention to write a post saying I was back from hiatus and then immediately disappear for another month. I had thought that when my job ended and I had all kinds of free time, I would fall right back into regular blogging just like old times. What I neglected to take into account is that stress and depression are fabulous at inducing writer's block whilst simultaneously making even the smallest task seem like such a gargantuan effort that you are already exhausted before you even begin.
Here's a thing they don't really tell you when you are being treated for depression on a long term basis - being properly medicated and being able to cope with life for long periods of time can cause you to develop a false sense of security about yourself. This only becomes a problem when you get into situations in your life that you aren't able to effectively cope with, and something that would have been a really bad low before you got help and learned how to deal with things becomes even worse because you know, logically, that you are over-reacting and yet you still can't make it stop. The whole thing becomes one big downward slide into a pool of self hatred and an inner monologue is telling you that you KNOW what the problem is, so just fucking FIX it, but you can't fix it, so obviously you are a COMPLETE FAILURE AT EVERYTHING. And since you are a complete failure at everything, you start to reason that no one likes you because WHY SHOULD THEY SINCE YOU SUCK, and you fail to reach out to the people who love you and could help you back. But again, you KNOW, logically, that this is stupid and it's just the depression talking, and of course you should have reached out and asked for help, dumbass, but you're stupid and now you've let everyone down AGAIN because you are a COMPLETE FAILURE. Et cetera, et cetera, until either you crash and have a public meltdown on Twitter, or someone close to you calls you out on your poorly hidden breakdown and forces you to let them help you. Or both (I have amazing and supportive Twitter followers and the most incredible boyfriend on the planet, THANK YOU).
Anyway, enough of that. My point is, being done with work did absolutely nothing to alleviate the stress of moving to another country, or going back to school in the hope of starting over from scratch with a completely different career, or choreographing and costuming a solo burlesque dance routine for the first time, or, as I finally got around to yesterday, breaking the news to an emotionally fragile and somewhat dependent roommate that I am moving 4,000 miles away from him and he's on his own (it is not going very well). And that's why I disappeared again and why I can't promise you that it won't happen yet again right after this post either. But I'm trying. And I have plans. One of which is that I am thinking about reviewing another horrible book for NaBloPoMo this year. If you think this is a good idea, feel free to leave me some suggestions on what you think I would really hate (excluding Twilight because Mark over at Mark Reads has already done that as brilliantly as it will ever be done). I WILL get back to where I remember how to do this and be funny at it, I just can't promise you exactly when. I am really hoping it's now.
Here's a thing they don't really tell you when you are being treated for depression on a long term basis - being properly medicated and being able to cope with life for long periods of time can cause you to develop a false sense of security about yourself. This only becomes a problem when you get into situations in your life that you aren't able to effectively cope with, and something that would have been a really bad low before you got help and learned how to deal with things becomes even worse because you know, logically, that you are over-reacting and yet you still can't make it stop. The whole thing becomes one big downward slide into a pool of self hatred and an inner monologue is telling you that you KNOW what the problem is, so just fucking FIX it, but you can't fix it, so obviously you are a COMPLETE FAILURE AT EVERYTHING. And since you are a complete failure at everything, you start to reason that no one likes you because WHY SHOULD THEY SINCE YOU SUCK, and you fail to reach out to the people who love you and could help you back. But again, you KNOW, logically, that this is stupid and it's just the depression talking, and of course you should have reached out and asked for help, dumbass, but you're stupid and now you've let everyone down AGAIN because you are a COMPLETE FAILURE. Et cetera, et cetera, until either you crash and have a public meltdown on Twitter, or someone close to you calls you out on your poorly hidden breakdown and forces you to let them help you. Or both (I have amazing and supportive Twitter followers and the most incredible boyfriend on the planet, THANK YOU).
Anyway, enough of that. My point is, being done with work did absolutely nothing to alleviate the stress of moving to another country, or going back to school in the hope of starting over from scratch with a completely different career, or choreographing and costuming a solo burlesque dance routine for the first time, or, as I finally got around to yesterday, breaking the news to an emotionally fragile and somewhat dependent roommate that I am moving 4,000 miles away from him and he's on his own (it is not going very well). And that's why I disappeared again and why I can't promise you that it won't happen yet again right after this post either. But I'm trying. And I have plans. One of which is that I am thinking about reviewing another horrible book for NaBloPoMo this year. If you think this is a good idea, feel free to leave me some suggestions on what you think I would really hate (excluding Twilight because Mark over at Mark Reads has already done that as brilliantly as it will ever be done). I WILL get back to where I remember how to do this and be funny at it, I just can't promise you exactly when. I am really hoping it's now.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Unintentional Hiatus FAQ
Were you kidnapped and killed at the 50 Shades meet up?
No, no one has been kidnapped and nobody died. Unless you mean OF LAUGHTER. We had an absolutely awesome time, once we completely abandoned the 50 Shades party game, which sucked horse cadaver balls, and switched to Cards Against Humanity (which is also when we found out that we are all terrible people). I am excited about the real post when I will actually tell you about it.
In that case, where the hell have you been?
All over the place, both mentally and figuratively. I was in England and in France for a good while, during which I was somehow remarkably busy, and then I came back to Chicago to an unbelievable amount of crap going on. I have so much to do that sometimes I get overwhelmed and I call up StereoNinja and cry at him. Not to him. AT him.
What kind of crap?
Oh well, let's see...there's the part where I'm losing my job at the end of this month and I'm frantically putting together notes for the handover to the people who are going to start doing my job and also my boss is panicking and making me INSANE and also BrownsFan is already gone and I CANNOT COPE WITHOUT HER. There's also the thing where I spent Sunday to Wednesday of this week systematically calling everyone in my family and telling them that a) I am leaving forever in a few months, and b) I have been hiding information and/or lying to them for MONTHS now, for a very good reason but lying nonetheless, which fortunately they were all really, really, REALLY understanding and very nice about. And let's not forget the part where I'm making up a dance and a costume and a new name so I can get on stage in less than three months and take my clothes of to music, which reminds me...in related news, I seem to have become involved with a group of very nice people who spend their Tuesday nights drawing pictures of a naked person for two hours. (The naked person is me.)
What ever happened to that thing where you claimed you were moving to England?
Well, that's actually the thing that is taking up all of my time and energy and preventing me from blogging. I can tell you now that I have been accepted into my first choice of graduate school, which is in London, and will be starting my program in October. Which means that in between now and then I have to get rid of 95% of my earthly belongings, sort out shipping and/or storage for the other 5%, gather all the cash up front that I will need for both tuition and living expenses and then prove to both the school and the British government that I have it just sitting there in cash and that they won't have to support my freeloading American ass through social services, apply for a visa, go to an interview for said visa, buy a plane ticket, and literally dozens of other tasks both big and small that come with the decision to move to a different country.
Are you ever going to blog again?
YES OH MY GOD YES. I miss it so, so much, I can't even describe it. But seriously, I am completely wiped out right now. I think if you guys can just give me til the end of April, I can get back to more regular posting and shenanigans. I'll still have all this moving and dance stuff to do, but I won't have a job anymore starting May 1, so that should free up some time, stress, and brain space for the shit I actually LIKE doing.
Don't get me wrong - everything is GREAT right now and I am happier than I have ever been in my entire life. It's just that there's TONS of work involved with my life being this great, and a looming deadline to get all of that work done. I'm trying really hard to get back here, I really miss you guys.
No, no one has been kidnapped and nobody died. Unless you mean OF LAUGHTER. We had an absolutely awesome time, once we completely abandoned the 50 Shades party game, which sucked horse cadaver balls, and switched to Cards Against Humanity (which is also when we found out that we are all terrible people). I am excited about the real post when I will actually tell you about it.
In that case, where the hell have you been?
All over the place, both mentally and figuratively. I was in England and in France for a good while, during which I was somehow remarkably busy, and then I came back to Chicago to an unbelievable amount of crap going on. I have so much to do that sometimes I get overwhelmed and I call up StereoNinja and cry at him. Not to him. AT him.
What kind of crap?
Oh well, let's see...there's the part where I'm losing my job at the end of this month and I'm frantically putting together notes for the handover to the people who are going to start doing my job and also my boss is panicking and making me INSANE and also BrownsFan is already gone and I CANNOT COPE WITHOUT HER. There's also the thing where I spent Sunday to Wednesday of this week systematically calling everyone in my family and telling them that a) I am leaving forever in a few months, and b) I have been hiding information and/or lying to them for MONTHS now, for a very good reason but lying nonetheless, which fortunately they were all really, really, REALLY understanding and very nice about. And let's not forget the part where I'm making up a dance and a costume and a new name so I can get on stage in less than three months and take my clothes of to music, which reminds me...in related news, I seem to have become involved with a group of very nice people who spend their Tuesday nights drawing pictures of a naked person for two hours. (The naked person is me.)
What ever happened to that thing where you claimed you were moving to England?
Well, that's actually the thing that is taking up all of my time and energy and preventing me from blogging. I can tell you now that I have been accepted into my first choice of graduate school, which is in London, and will be starting my program in October. Which means that in between now and then I have to get rid of 95% of my earthly belongings, sort out shipping and/or storage for the other 5%, gather all the cash up front that I will need for both tuition and living expenses and then prove to both the school and the British government that I have it just sitting there in cash and that they won't have to support my freeloading American ass through social services, apply for a visa, go to an interview for said visa, buy a plane ticket, and literally dozens of other tasks both big and small that come with the decision to move to a different country.
Are you ever going to blog again?
YES OH MY GOD YES. I miss it so, so much, I can't even describe it. But seriously, I am completely wiped out right now. I think if you guys can just give me til the end of April, I can get back to more regular posting and shenanigans. I'll still have all this moving and dance stuff to do, but I won't have a job anymore starting May 1, so that should free up some time, stress, and brain space for the shit I actually LIKE doing.
Don't get me wrong - everything is GREAT right now and I am happier than I have ever been in my entire life. It's just that there's TONS of work involved with my life being this great, and a looming deadline to get all of that work done. I'm trying really hard to get back here, I really miss you guys.
Tuesday, February 05, 2013
No, Seriously, I Have A Real Excuse
OK, so I'm being a terrible blogger - I have a book review to finish by the end of this month and I haven't made a video since my birthday - but I do actually have a reason for once.
That reason is that my timetable for the life-rearranging I have been hinting at for months has been pushed up significantly, and I am scrambling to update my CV and also assemble paperwork and fill out applications for graduate programs with looming deadlines and write statements of varying lengths about how much I heart learning and why I specifically want to learn these particular things, and I can't devote my full attention to that and also make up new swears for you guys and expect to actually succeed at my ultimate goal, which I am happy to report, I can now state fairly openly (in as far as I don't think any of the people I haven't spoken to yet read this regularly, and if they do, hi, and sorry you're finding out this way), is to move to the UK.
That was an incredibly long sentence and is not indicative of the quality of sentences I am using in my position statements on any of these applications, I assure you.
Point being, my absence is legit for once, and that I haven't stopped writing; I'm just writing something else at the moment, and it is important. And also that I will return to normal very, very soon since I have to finish the book review by the end of February so I can give the stupid book back to its owner.
In the meantime, in an attempt to make this up to you, I took the liberty of googling "weird knitting projects" for you guys. The image search results are here. I am particularly impressed with the knitted turd about 9 rows down and this fucking insane corpse:
That reason is that my timetable for the life-rearranging I have been hinting at for months has been pushed up significantly, and I am scrambling to update my CV and also assemble paperwork and fill out applications for graduate programs with looming deadlines and write statements of varying lengths about how much I heart learning and why I specifically want to learn these particular things, and I can't devote my full attention to that and also make up new swears for you guys and expect to actually succeed at my ultimate goal, which I am happy to report, I can now state fairly openly (in as far as I don't think any of the people I haven't spoken to yet read this regularly, and if they do, hi, and sorry you're finding out this way), is to move to the UK.
That was an incredibly long sentence and is not indicative of the quality of sentences I am using in my position statements on any of these applications, I assure you.
Point being, my absence is legit for once, and that I haven't stopped writing; I'm just writing something else at the moment, and it is important. And also that I will return to normal very, very soon since I have to finish the book review by the end of February so I can give the stupid book back to its owner.
In the meantime, in an attempt to make this up to you, I took the liberty of googling "weird knitting projects" for you guys. The image search results are here. I am particularly impressed with the knitted turd about 9 rows down and this fucking insane corpse:
You're welcome.
Monday, January 07, 2013
VERY IMPORTANT NEWS
While I was in Cleveland a week ago, after a long day of visiting family and watching three hour long musicals and having dinner with a friend of my stepmother who told me she read all three Fifty Shades books in one weekend while I bit my tongue until it bled, I made a video of my spare notes from Chapters 9-10 in my parents basement. It's not my best work, I have to say - I was tired (see previous sentence), I really didn't have a lot of notes from those chapters because almost nothing happened in them, and I found a giant fish pillow which was very distracting.
I promise the next one will be better. I have deliberately left some things out of my review because I wanted to yell about them on camera. And James packed the last three chapters with sentences that are so poorly constructed they should be taken out behind the shed and shot. It should be a good time.
In completely unrelated but VERY VERY important news, SATURDAY IS MY BIRTHDAY. I think I may have already gotten my best present already - the hockey strike ended this weekend and it seems there will be some games this year after all, great news since I have serious concerns about being able to watch hockey next season and it might be my last chance. Then again, StereoNinja is being very secretive about something he's mailed to my office, so maybe not. I hope it's sex toys. And of course, if anyone out there could convince Hannah Hart to tweet me a personal birthday greeting you would make my entire life. But just so we're all clear, the important part of today's post is that everyone is made aware of my upcoming birthday. Saturday.
In completely unrelated but VERY VERY important news, SATURDAY IS MY BIRTHDAY. I think I may have already gotten my best present already - the hockey strike ended this weekend and it seems there will be some games this year after all, great news since I have serious concerns about being able to watch hockey next season and it might be my last chance. Then again, StereoNinja is being very secretive about something he's mailed to my office, so maybe not. I hope it's sex toys. And of course, if anyone out there could convince Hannah Hart to tweet me a personal birthday greeting you would make my entire life. But just so we're all clear, the important part of today's post is that everyone is made aware of my upcoming birthday. Saturday.
Monday, November 26, 2012
More Lame Excuses
I've started writing a couple different posts for today, but one will never be finished in time (the next review, which will only cover two chapters because HOLY BALLS ALL OF THE STUPID), and the other one I got 90% finished with before I realized I wasn't emotionally prepared to post that announcement yet (or maybe I am, but I need to talk to a few more people so they don't find out the news from my blog instead of in person because they will be maybe not so pleased if I tell the entire internets first). So basically, you get a new review tomorrow!, a new video maybe tomorrow, but definitely soon (it's being edited), and a major life announcement whenever I stop dragging my feet and tell my family anything that goes on in my life.
In much more important news, there are ONLY 47 DAYS LEFT UNTIL MY BIRTHDAY.
In much more important news, there are ONLY 47 DAYS LEFT UNTIL MY BIRTHDAY.
Monday, October 15, 2012
Apologies And Recommendations
I seem to be having something of a motivational problem at the moment. Partly this is due to the increasing obviousness that I am in the wrong country and partly because I seem to have come back to a crap ton of actual work to do whilst at work. Mostly, though, it's because I read books that I actually enjoyed when I was abroad, and then another one when I got home (I had been waiting for its publication for YEARS, or so it seemed) and, you guys, it is SO HARD to look at that third book sitting on my dresser, knowing the atrocities that await me, and have ANY DESIRE to actually pick it up and look at it. I promise you I will. And I also promise you I will write about those awesome bits of my trip that can actually be shared here. I'm just not sure when. I haven't forgotten you, I swear.
In case you are looking for something hilarious to read (which many of you have complained that you are), the book I just finished is brilliant. It is called This Book Is Full of Spiders: Seriously Dude Don't Touch It, and if that sounds like an incredibly stupid book for me to be reading, don't worry. The book doesn't contain any actual spiders. Yes, I know that's what it says. Rule number one about David Wong: he lies. His name isn't even David Wong. This book is the sequel to his previous motherfucking amazing book John Dies at the End, which was originally published on his blog as a web series. Both books are the greatest mashup of horror/sci-fi and dick/fart jokes to have ever been penned.
I can also recommend the book Micro, which I absolutely inhaled on the flight home. It's the piece Michael Crichton was working on when he died, and was finished by Richard Preston. But be warned: Unlike This Book Is Full of Spiders, Micro actually has a spider in it. And a centipede. Also, you'll never look at ants the same way again. But it's good.
Speaking of spiders, last night one of them decided to zip line himself down from the ceiling in the bathroom just as I was about to wash me hands. He was two inches from my shoulder before I saw him. Luckily, the bartender knows a spider emergency based on the tone of myvoice screams and he came in and rescued me pretty quickly, but we only have the one bathroom in our apartment and I have NO IDEA where I'm supposed to pee now.
Real posts from me are coming, I SWEAR TO XENU.
In case you are looking for something hilarious to read (which many of you have complained that you are), the book I just finished is brilliant. It is called This Book Is Full of Spiders: Seriously Dude Don't Touch It, and if that sounds like an incredibly stupid book for me to be reading, don't worry. The book doesn't contain any actual spiders. Yes, I know that's what it says. Rule number one about David Wong: he lies. His name isn't even David Wong. This book is the sequel to his previous motherfucking amazing book John Dies at the End, which was originally published on his blog as a web series. Both books are the greatest mashup of horror/sci-fi and dick/fart jokes to have ever been penned.
I can also recommend the book Micro, which I absolutely inhaled on the flight home. It's the piece Michael Crichton was working on when he died, and was finished by Richard Preston. But be warned: Unlike This Book Is Full of Spiders, Micro actually has a spider in it. And a centipede. Also, you'll never look at ants the same way again. But it's good.
Speaking of spiders, last night one of them decided to zip line himself down from the ceiling in the bathroom just as I was about to wash me hands. He was two inches from my shoulder before I saw him. Luckily, the bartender knows a spider emergency based on the tone of my
Real posts from me are coming, I SWEAR TO XENU.
Monday, August 01, 2011
Resolution (I Think)
I don't want to count my chickens here or anything, but I think I may have solved my mail delivery problem by outsmarting the post office. Also, I don't actually have any chickens, so can't do a lot of counting of them.
I have received actual mail, not junk mail, real mail addressed to me, at my home, for three of the last four days. Some of it came from people or organizations who recently had things they tried to mail me get sent back. I am cautiously optimistic that this will continue.
So how did I solve the problem? Because contacting the local post office on the internets did not work. Contacting the national post office online didn't work either. Phone calls to customer service, the local post office and the main Chicago branch were wholly ineffective. Complaining about the total lack of assistance when they sent me a survey about my recent USPS.com experience garnered no results whatsoever. I was about to contact the Problem Solvers when I decided to try one more time in a last ditch effort before bringing in the big guns. Because the thing is, the US Postal Service is a huge bureaucracy, right? My telling them, again and again and AGAIN AND AGAIN that I hadn't moved did absolutely nothing to get my mail started because you can tell people they're doing it wrong until you're blue in the face, but unless you figure out a way to get inside the system, nothing is going to change. Well, I figured out a way: I used their online change of address feature and I changed my address from my apartment to...my apartment. That's right, I changed my address from the one where I live to the exact same thing and lo and behold, a few days later I got a confirmation letter with a packet of "Welcome to the neighborhood" coupons from USPS, and shortly thereafter started opening my mailbox and finding actual mail inside it. I've beat them at their own game. Bravo, USPS, you are a worthy opponent, but I watch a lot of Star Trek and I am a master at using logic to defeat the illogical.
I have received actual mail, not junk mail, real mail addressed to me, at my home, for three of the last four days. Some of it came from people or organizations who recently had things they tried to mail me get sent back. I am cautiously optimistic that this will continue.
So how did I solve the problem? Because contacting the local post office on the internets did not work. Contacting the national post office online didn't work either. Phone calls to customer service, the local post office and the main Chicago branch were wholly ineffective. Complaining about the total lack of assistance when they sent me a survey about my recent USPS.com experience garnered no results whatsoever. I was about to contact the Problem Solvers when I decided to try one more time in a last ditch effort before bringing in the big guns. Because the thing is, the US Postal Service is a huge bureaucracy, right? My telling them, again and again and AGAIN AND AGAIN that I hadn't moved did absolutely nothing to get my mail started because you can tell people they're doing it wrong until you're blue in the face, but unless you figure out a way to get inside the system, nothing is going to change. Well, I figured out a way: I used their online change of address feature and I changed my address from my apartment to...my apartment. That's right, I changed my address from the one where I live to the exact same thing and lo and behold, a few days later I got a confirmation letter with a packet of "Welcome to the neighborhood" coupons from USPS, and shortly thereafter started opening my mailbox and finding actual mail inside it. I've beat them at their own game. Bravo, USPS, you are a worthy opponent, but I watch a lot of Star Trek and I am a master at using logic to defeat the illogical.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Learning Curve
My company moved our offices last week, which has been quite educational as far as getting to know my co-workers and finding out which of them are crazy and which are not, something I will not go into here, less out of privacy issues than out of my not wanting to relive the experience because, seriously, oh my god.
On the whole this has been good. I now have an office of my very own with an actual door and a window and a desk made out of wood. Also I have a weird diagonal beam in the back of my office that half covers the windows and truncates the usable space. Obviously I requested this particular office because I thought it was awesome, not to mention the fact that it is also the last one on the far end of the space, meaning that anyone coming this way is doing so on purpose to see me rather than walking by on their way to somewhere else, thus retaining my status of having the most private space of anyone here, which is good because I take naps under my desk Costanza style on a semi-regular basis (I have a pillow and everything). It is also gloriously RIGHT NEXT TO BROWNSFAN'S OFFICE. On moving in, I promptly tacked up a paper ceiling catto watch me calculate because the CEO thinks it's really stupid. On the other side of BrownsFan is the CEO's office, in which he has laid out his furniture in a way that causes there to be a long alleyway of empty space to one side of his desk that everyone has had a suggestion as far as how to fill. Bowling alley was an idea. I went pinball machine after learning that he has a Star Trek one IN HIS HOME which he should obviously bring here so that I can play it. He has boringly gone with his own idea: tree. I was disappointed until he told me I could decorate it for Christmas at which point I started jumping up and down and squealing. I WILL DECORATE THE CRAP OUT OF THAT TREE FOR CHRISTMAS. WATCH ME.
Our new offices are located in the office tower portion of a train station, which I explored last week in an attempt to educate myself about my new surroundings. Here's what I've learned:
More on this later, and photos when I remember to take some. Currently it is time for my desk nap.
On the whole this has been good. I now have an office of my very own with an actual door and a window and a desk made out of wood. Also I have a weird diagonal beam in the back of my office that half covers the windows and truncates the usable space. Obviously I requested this particular office because I thought it was awesome, not to mention the fact that it is also the last one on the far end of the space, meaning that anyone coming this way is doing so on purpose to see me rather than walking by on their way to somewhere else, thus retaining my status of having the most private space of anyone here, which is good because I take naps under my desk Costanza style on a semi-regular basis (I have a pillow and everything). It is also gloriously RIGHT NEXT TO BROWNSFAN'S OFFICE. On moving in, I promptly tacked up a paper ceiling cat
Our new offices are located in the office tower portion of a train station, which I explored last week in an attempt to educate myself about my new surroundings. Here's what I've learned:
- There are no less than three Hudson News stores in this one train station (that I've found so far), two of which are directly across from one another. I bought a 20 oz. Coke Zero and a small bag of Chex Mix in there for over $7. It would have cost me less than $3 if I'd walked a few more feet to the CVS. I learned not to shop at Hudson News.
- There is also an Auntie Anne's Pretzels in here. Dangerous this may become. I am trying to forget that I know that.
- The trek to and from the office level floors involves a ride on the escalator. It is a huge pet peeve of mine when people get on an escalator and then just stand there, particularly when it's going down. People: The escalator is NOT A RIDE. Please either walk your lazy ass down the magical moving staircase or move the fuck over so I don't have to kill you.
- There is one major drawback to working in a commuter train station, which I discovered almost immediately: at quittin' time, absolutely everyone in the world is trying to get into the place you are trying to leave. And since it's the end of the day and everybody just wants to go home, they will mow you the hell down if you get in their way. Since I am leaving the train station I am, by definition, in their way, and getting home for me is now similar to a very frustrated salmon getting pelted with massive rocks on its way to spawn, except at the end I don't get to spawn. This strikes me as a very cruel joke.
More on this later, and photos when I remember to take some. Currently it is time for my desk nap.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Shout Out
Steve G., who is my brothers Big from their fraternity, was at a party with me over the weekend. He mentioned he had checked out the Bizzybiz Blog, but didn't have 16 years to devote to reading my incredibly long posts, so he merely skimmed it. But in so skimming, he noticed a certain lack of acknowledgement on my part for the help I received moving my crap into my apartment.
Steve, I apologize for the oversight. Let it hereby be known that without the aid of my brother, Steve, Chris, Nash and Lizak I would currently be living out of the back of a U-Haul. Thanks for moving all my shit.
Holla.
(Also thanks to Nash for making me burst into tears at that party as well, way to make my nightmares a reality buddy.)
Steve, I apologize for the oversight. Let it hereby be known that without the aid of my brother, Steve, Chris, Nash and Lizak I would currently be living out of the back of a U-Haul. Thanks for moving all my shit.
Holla.
(Also thanks to Nash for making me burst into tears at that party as well, way to make my nightmares a reality buddy.)
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Update
Sorry about the sparse posting; I'm having to spend my waking hours doing actual work. In fact, I'm at work right now. Between training my replacement, keeping up with client reports, and fielding a barrage of questions from just about every person in this office I just don't have time to pour out my soul into the soothing ether that is the internet. At any rate, you're not missing anything because all I'm doing is working, and therefore I don't really have anything interesting to write about. For those who wish to keep track, here's the latest:
P.S. Is anyone else amused by the fact that the Blogger spell-checker doesn't recognize the word "blog"?
- I haven't sold my house yet.
- I am moving in two weeks. Or three weeks, depending on whether I get my own apartment or temporarily move in with my brother.
- I am operating above normal capacity at work. This is largely do to the obscene quantities of SweetTarts/Runts/tea/coffee/pop/hot chocolate/dum-dums I consume pretty much continuously throughout the day.
- I have been successful so far in NOT getting addicted to 24 like I was last year. This is probably due to the fact that I am at work all evening long.
- Mary's here too.
- I really need to start packing.
- Lap dancing lessons this Saturday, followed by the purchase of several coin-operated boys, and maybe the odd blindfold and/or furry handcuffs.
- SUPERBOWL SUNDAY! Pre-game strip poker, the main event, and hopefully winning some money at squares.
- Packing for the move, as I'm bound to come across some bizarre shit I forgot I owned.
- Moving to Chicago, and my resulting far more colorful life.
P.S. Is anyone else amused by the fact that the Blogger spell-checker doesn't recognize the word "blog"?
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
Crisis of Faith: Over
In the past few weeks I've been having a little bit of "buyer's remorse" if you will. My move to Chicago is imminent, and some issues have cropped up. Issues such as:
The biggest thing that's been nagging at me is my job. Things have been really great around here the past few weeks. The Gander has been ultra sweet to me lately. There have been no major crises to stress me out. I have mad job security out the ass here - even though we've already hired my replacement and I've been training her for the last three weeks, the CEO is still telling me regularly that if I change my mind and want to stay I am more than welcome. I genuinely like what I do for a living, it challenges me and never gets boring. The people I work with are fantastic, we are a really close knit group and all hang out together regularly. So I was starting to wonder why, even though I LOVE Chicago and dream about residing there, I was actually LEAVING this job on purpose. Because there will never be another job in my life where I am secure, challenged and well liked to the same degree as I am here. Was I making a mistake? Should I forego living in my dream city to stay at what is pretty darn close to my dream job? I was starting to wake up at night with these thoughts scratching my brain.
Until...
I had created a report for a client last week that had a number on it that didn't really make sense. It was bothering me, so before I sent it to the client, I sent a copy to the Gander and asked him to review it. Now, the number didn't look right to me. The only thing that could have changed the number I calculated was a cash flow out of an account. I didn't have ANY paperwork showing me a cash flow. In the absence of that data, I used the screwy-looking number and asked the Gander to look into it. From a liability standpoint, I couldn't just "make up" a fake cash flow out of thin air just because I "thought" there should be one to make the number make sense, because if someone comes back and questions it later, I can't justify making something up because I felt like it. I have to use the number I calculated. That way, even if it turns out wrong later, I have a trail of exactly what I did to arrive at that number and that I followed procedure. I specifically said to the Gander "This number doesn't look right. Ask [the client] if there was a cash flow we weren't told about. If there wasn't, then this must actually be the number. The Gander, of course, a) didn't ever check the report and b) sent it to the client as-is without ever asking about a missing cash flow.
Surprise! The client forgot to tell us about a nearly $1 million cash flow. Therefore my return is wrong, the report is wrong, and the client is upset. At 4:59, the Gander storms into my office and reads me the riot act. How could I let this number go out when I knew it didn't look right? Am I a monkey that never thinks? Do I know how stupid I made him look in front of the client? Do I realize that this is a PUBLIC institution, and our mistake is now PUBLICLY on the books? Through gritted teeth I reminded him that I can't make stuff up, that I asked him to review it and he didn't, and that when we issue a revised report it will also become a matter of public record. He could not be consoled. It was my fault. He doesn't have time to check over all my work and make sure that I'm doing it right. We look like idiots. He was literally screaming, red-faced, as upset as if I had accidentally given nuclear launch codes to North Korea. This went on for 20 minutes. There was NO WAY I was going to concede the point - I followed protocol to the letter; he's the one who dropped the ball. When he realized he wasn't going to dissolve me into tears he finally stormed off. I had a lot to do and had planned to stay late, but I was so furious I packed up and left to go have beers with some friends at 5:30.
Nevertheless, I walked out of the building with a huge smile on my face. Problem solved; I remember now. Thanks Gander, you've been a big help.
- I haven't sold my house yet. I don't relish the thought of paying a mortgage and paying rent at the same time.
- The blow up argument I had with the bartender last week had me temporarily wanting to spurn the entire city.
- The actual mechanics of moving. I can't drive Alistair and a moving truck at the same time, and I'm going to have to rely on someone to drive one or the other of them for me. It'd be so much easier to just, you know, NOT move.
The biggest thing that's been nagging at me is my job. Things have been really great around here the past few weeks. The Gander has been ultra sweet to me lately. There have been no major crises to stress me out. I have mad job security out the ass here - even though we've already hired my replacement and I've been training her for the last three weeks, the CEO is still telling me regularly that if I change my mind and want to stay I am more than welcome. I genuinely like what I do for a living, it challenges me and never gets boring. The people I work with are fantastic, we are a really close knit group and all hang out together regularly. So I was starting to wonder why, even though I LOVE Chicago and dream about residing there, I was actually LEAVING this job on purpose. Because there will never be another job in my life where I am secure, challenged and well liked to the same degree as I am here. Was I making a mistake? Should I forego living in my dream city to stay at what is pretty darn close to my dream job? I was starting to wake up at night with these thoughts scratching my brain.
Until...
I had created a report for a client last week that had a number on it that didn't really make sense. It was bothering me, so before I sent it to the client, I sent a copy to the Gander and asked him to review it. Now, the number didn't look right to me. The only thing that could have changed the number I calculated was a cash flow out of an account. I didn't have ANY paperwork showing me a cash flow. In the absence of that data, I used the screwy-looking number and asked the Gander to look into it. From a liability standpoint, I couldn't just "make up" a fake cash flow out of thin air just because I "thought" there should be one to make the number make sense, because if someone comes back and questions it later, I can't justify making something up because I felt like it. I have to use the number I calculated. That way, even if it turns out wrong later, I have a trail of exactly what I did to arrive at that number and that I followed procedure. I specifically said to the Gander "This number doesn't look right. Ask [the client] if there was a cash flow we weren't told about. If there wasn't, then this must actually be the number. The Gander, of course, a) didn't ever check the report and b) sent it to the client as-is without ever asking about a missing cash flow.
Surprise! The client forgot to tell us about a nearly $1 million cash flow. Therefore my return is wrong, the report is wrong, and the client is upset. At 4:59, the Gander storms into my office and reads me the riot act. How could I let this number go out when I knew it didn't look right? Am I a monkey that never thinks? Do I know how stupid I made him look in front of the client? Do I realize that this is a PUBLIC institution, and our mistake is now PUBLICLY on the books? Through gritted teeth I reminded him that I can't make stuff up, that I asked him to review it and he didn't, and that when we issue a revised report it will also become a matter of public record. He could not be consoled. It was my fault. He doesn't have time to check over all my work and make sure that I'm doing it right. We look like idiots. He was literally screaming, red-faced, as upset as if I had accidentally given nuclear launch codes to North Korea. This went on for 20 minutes. There was NO WAY I was going to concede the point - I followed protocol to the letter; he's the one who dropped the ball. When he realized he wasn't going to dissolve me into tears he finally stormed off. I had a lot to do and had planned to stay late, but I was so furious I packed up and left to go have beers with some friends at 5:30.
Nevertheless, I walked out of the building with a huge smile on my face. Problem solved; I remember now. Thanks Gander, you've been a big help.
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