DB 2008

So the stories from Distinctly Bronze abound, but I'll share this one, as I think it's the funniest for the most people...

We were playing the Waltz from Serenade for Strings by Tchaikovsky (you've heard it before...click here). It's in the running for the hardest piece I've ever played on bells, and we were having quite the time with it sucking horribly. Finally, we gave up for the day, and the next morning when we got to rehearsal, the director had a gift on his stand.

It was a home-made doll that had the following note on it

Whenever things don't go so well...
And you want to hit the wall and yell...
Here's a little dammit doll
That you can't do without.
Just grasp it firmly by the legs
And find a place to slam it
And as you whack the stuffing out
Yell, "DAMMIT! DAMMIT! DAMMIT!"

...which was great, but the funniest part was that it was gift wrapped. In the cover for Waltz. HAH!!!

In other news, here are some photos from the event. I have tons of myself, but you'll have to see them on my facebook page.

My newest friends. We hung out a lot. Love these ladies!!!

My old friend. They're the best...


The whole group during rehearsal. (112 ringers)


The littlest and the (not quite) biggest

The town was gorgeous. Very old and historical. Great food.

If you want to see more photos, let me know, and I'll send them your way.

This is one that pretty much describes the airlines today. I was on the plane in 95 degree weather at BWI, and this was outside my window with no one within 150 yards. Everyone was successfully ignoring it...

Nice.

Shamelessly lifted from AD...

This was too funny to pass up...I swear I'll get back to the serious blogging later. Promise!

WHAT ARE YOUR NAMES?

1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: (first pet & current car)

Blondie Civic

2.YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (fave ice cream flavor, favorite cookie)

Chocolate Almond Chocolate Chip (nickname: Chalmonchip)

3. YOUR “FLY Guy/Girl” NAME: (first initial of first name, first three letters of your last name)

MWoo .... I love LIW's: AHoh HEE HEE HEE

4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal)
Black Dog

5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born)

Kay Watonga

6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first)

Wooma

7. SUPERHERO NAME: (”The” + 2nd favorite color, favorite drink)
The Red Tea

8. NASCAR NAME: (the first names of your grandfathers)
Gene Louis

9. STRIPPER NAME: ( the name of your favorite perfume/cologne/scent, favorite candy)

Euphoria Blossom Skittles

10.WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother’s & father’s middle names )

Sue Neill

11. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME: (Your 5th grade teacher’s last name, a major city that starts with the same letter)

Todd Tacoma

12. SPY NAME: (your favorite season/holiday, flower)

Autumn Rose

13. CARTOON NAME: (favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now + "ie" or "y")

Apple Skacksie

14. HIPPY NAME: (What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree)

Cheerio Mimosa

15. YOUR ROCKSTAR TOUR NAME: (”The” + Your fave hobby/craft, fave weather element + “Tour”)

The Music Snow Tour

Feel free to make snarky commentary. I'm too tired to attempt it.

I'm baaaack!

I've returned from the nether-regions, and am in full force once again. I had a great time, thanks for asking, and plan to go again next year if money allows. :-) A synopsis of my trip will appear here sometime tomorrow or Wednesday...depends on when I decide to not be lazy. (as if that comes as a surprise...)

It's done!!!!

I can't believe it. Except for editing, the dastardly exam is finished. Roughly 60 pages, computer-generated graphs on each page in color, lots of calculus mumbo-jumbo...100 hours of effort from the group and we're done!

Suh-weet!

Bedtime!

State Fair Album

Here's the rest of the not-snarky album from the State Fair...don't steal them, but look your fill!

Here's one that I played with...what do you think?

These videos are hysterical!!!

Entertain yourself for a while with this three part series....too damn funny! (The third is the funniest!)

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

Birds!

My private message to the creator: What's with the birds already? Why are they evenly spaced on the wire? And why don't they fly past 36th Street?

Last night, I sallied forth from my cave o' calculus-based economics (yes, I'm still working on the exam) to purchase sustenance (read: MEAT!) from wally world. The parking lot of the mall and Wal-Mart were swarmed under by black birds (sorry, ornithology is NOT my forte), and I felt like someone out of Hitchcock's movie dodging divebombing birds. I'm talking not a few birds that seemed to converge, I'm talking every black bird in a four-state region converged. On my way home, I was stopped at a red light and was looking about at the overhead wires that were COVERED in birds...each one evenly-spaced from the others. (What causes that?!?)

Obviously the birds weren't indigenous to Oklahoma: as a new bird would land on the wire, the others would scoot over like little dominoes to make room and to re-align themselves. Had they actually been native to Oklahoma, the incoming birds would have circled indefinitely until one bird looked like it was ready to take off, then five birds would swarm the empty spot while the other birds were oblivious and didn't make room for the new bird. Additionally, native birds would have failed to signal their imminent landing and have squawked self-righteously at the birds who did obey the rules of the skywire.

Another question: why were all the birds east of 36th Street? Is there an invisible bird net that I missed? Seriously! Once I made it past the birds on a wire at 36th and Main, I was home free. Not a bird to be found for miles.

Someone has a sick sense of humor.

Another State Fair

...and more pictures to boot. Here are a few of MANY that I took tonight. Enjoy.

(yes, the snarky ones will be up in a separate post...)

How many times in my life will I get to take pictures of feathers?

From the outside looking in

I Want to be Just Like My Daddy...

Lonesome

Life

I may be sparse in blogging over the next few days. Life is getting in the way. Too much to do, too little time. This "to do" involves unpacking an apartment, getting ready for the big bell gig, and finishing a 50+ page ECON exam.

Stay tuned!

Ride the SLUT

Hah! Seattle has unveiled plans for a new trolley system. 60 million dollars, serving 1.3 square miles.

WOOT!

And it's name? The South Lake Union Trolley. Obviously a well-thought-out name.

The South Lake region of Seattle is in the geographic center of town, and includes many of the older homes in the Cascades neighborhood. One gentleman who hails from my blessed state now lives in Seattle and has devised a plan to profit from the stupidity of the local g-slugs.

Go visit him and buy a t-shirt.

So many tasteless jokes that I could offer, but we all know that I'd never stoop that low. *cough*

And according to the guy, the new name being considered due to the unfortunate acronym is the Seattle Streetcar...um, SS? The last time the SS put people on trains, the outcome was less than desirable.

On ethics

In today's world, it seems that there are people with ethics, and there are people with ethics. You know who I'm talking about. The people you encounter on a regular basis whose personal morals loosely resemble those of a used car salesman. Or a loan shark. Or your great-uncle "Little Joey." Since this particular ethical breach could earn this person a lifetime enrollment on my personal if-the-Mafia-came-to-my- door-taking-requests hit list, it is only fitting to dub this person as "The Weasel."

The Weasel is a real estate agent. Recently, her nefarious dealings have included screwing her best friend out of her house. No, really. The friend was going to be foreclosed upon, and they struck a handshake deal (it's hard to shake hands with a snake as you will see) that the friend would deed the property, valued at roughly $25K, to The Weasel, make payments to her for it, and after the financial situation had gone away, The Weasel would sell the house back to the friend at a small percentage profit for her trouble. Easy, right?

Wrong. When the time came to sell the house back to the friend, The Weasel got a crooked pal to reassess the house to be worth just shy of $80K. (Understanding this house is approximately 1000 sq. feet in a bad part of a bad little town...and our big house in the nice part of town just barely cleared $80K...) Since the friend was having trouble making the $25K, she ended up living in one of our rental houses (she is the assistant to the lawyer I used to work for, and a friend of the family) when someone else bought her house and The Weasel had her evicted.

Fast forward to last Friday.

Ma gets a phone call from a random town resident asking whether she should take the money to her or to The Weasel to get the quit claim deed. Ma asks, "What money?!? What deed?!?" and finds out that apparently The Weasel sold this woman and her husband one of our vacant lots. In April. They had given The Weasel a $300 commission for the lot, along with $100 monthly payments since APRIL, and Ma and I had yet to see a penny. Ma asked her if there was a contract on the lot, and the girl said there was, to which Ma told her that it must be fraudulent since she had not signed a contract on that lot, especially with The Weasel, since the lot was actually listed with another realtor. The girl said that she had her receipts that were received in exchange for the payments that specifically state the money was going toward the purchase of our lot. Hmm.

Ma calls The Weasel to see what was up, and this was roughly the conversation that ensued:

Ma: "Did you sell our lot?"
TW: "Yes."
Ma: "Is there a contract?"
TW: "Yes."
Ma: "Is there a reason that I've not seen the contract I've supposedly signed?"
TW: "It's in my desk drawer. I was planning to bring it over." (When???)
Ma: "You do realize that the lot is listed with someone else, therefore you can't sell it, right?"
TW: "But it's already sold!"
Ma: "But there's no contract!"
TW: "I have the money too. It's on top of the contract in my desk drawer." (Why???)
Ma: "But there's no contract!"
TW: "Well, I was planning to give you the money when I gave them the contract."
Ma: "But there IS NO CONTRACT!"
TW: "Sure there is. It's in my desk drawer!"
Ma: "You can't sell a lot that's listed with someone else."
TW: "I probably shouldn't have taken the commission."
Ma: "YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE TAKEN ANY MONEY! THERE IS NO CONTRACT!"

OMG. Could The Weasel really be so stupid to not see any ethical implications to taking money without a contract?!?

Not ten minutes later, our friend from the law office (yes, the one The Weasel screwed) calls and says, "Well, I hear The Weasel is at it again." Apparently the people buying the lot went to the attorney complaining about Ma and I because we were reneging on our contract to sell the lot. Friend knew that this didn't sound like our normal M.O. and called to find out what happened. Ma roughly told her what she told The Weasel (as in every other statement was "There is no contract!") and finally the people understood that we'd sell them the lot if they would give us the full amount (they have the money on hand) and start the whole process over. They went ape because they thought they'd lost their money to The Weasel.

Not my problem. Either way it goes, we get rid of the lot and get our money in exchange. But I'd sure like to be a fly on the wall when the paralegal and the couple sue the pants off The Weasel in the kangaroo court that the AD Judge (another business acquaintance that knows my family VERY well) runs in the blessed little town.



Let the games begin.

International Talk Like a Pirate Day

Today is International Talk Like a Pirate Day. Make me proud.

~~~

This day gives me unequivocal license to tell this joke as many times as possible without repercussions.

A pirate walks into a bar. Normal looking pirate, he is...hook on the hand... eyepatch... ship's steering wheel attached to the groin?

He goes to the bar, hoists himself (and the wheel) onto a barstool, and orders a drink. The bartender asks if he knows that he has a steering wheel tied to his groin, to which the pirate replies,

"Aargh. I know, matey. Drives me nuts."

*ba doom ching*

...and now for what you've all been waiting for...

My life since Friday has been crazy. Less polite people than I would have called it something along the lines of "Mongolian clusterfsck." I don't even know where to start...

Yesterday was the state ceremony that I work on, and it went off without a hitch, except for me running over my foot with a loaded cart and taking half the skin off my heel...but that's another problem entirely.

I'm not sure where to even start with the posting of the weekend's events, other than doing shorts on each story with their own "title." So here goes:

~~~
Jailbait

So my mom's friend pulls up to the house with his 16' trailer to help me move. He can't stay, as his kids are showing cows at the state fair, but just as he arrives and gets things around my "brother" pulls up behind him, talking on a cell phone. No big deal. Wait. Cell phone? On Saturday? At this hour?!?

He gets out of the truck, walks over to me and says, "Crap. My [real] brother is in the Bugscuffle County Jail. I've gotta go bail him out." I do a 180 turn and hollered over to my mom's friend, (whose primary job is a bail bondsman), "Hey! Bubba! We need your help!" ...in 25 years, the first time I've had to ask to use his services...we ended up not needing them, but still. I must say that of all the times that Sparky could have landed himself in a situation from which he needed sprung, his timing is impeccable.

~~~

Manuel

Many people were in attendance for my move. 11 people total helped me move, and I'm here to tell ya, I'm in their debt. No way would I have made it through the weekend without them.

One such person was Manuel. He showed up at my new apartment just after we got there. It was a matter of logistics that brought him around--you know how it is--you're on the top floor, the hammer is on the bottom floor and you're holding a half a dresser with nowhere to go...then *da dum* Manuel to the rescue. Just yell for Manuel and Sparky et al. comes a-running.

Manuel Labór...don't leave home without him.

~~~

Prithleth

Tho when you're a thoprano that lithpth, you look like an flaming imbethile in front of your peerth...

My friend and I went to eat Saturday night, and she told me of a friend who is getting an advanced degree in singing ... and she has a lisp. Um, has anyone ever thought to tell the woman that she won't be able to pay the rent by singing opera with a lisp? Change careers, lady!

"Treeth on the mountainth"??? Any other aria that has an "s" anywhere in it? Prithleth. :-)

~~~

The Phone Call

We all know of Angelique (from whom I received an incredibly bizarre email that I will share later), but on Saturday I got a call from another family friend who wants me to do some handbell work for his church. Come to find out, he's now a she. What is this with my acquaintances?!?

~~~

Tonight when I get home, I'm going straight to bed. I deserve it.

Hi, I'm a drummer.

This was a post in draft form for the last week, but technology has thwarted my plan again. So here's the post that should have gone up last week, and eventually, hopefully, there will be a rockin' video to accompany it.

There will be several posts on the topic of yesterday's activities, and as I am working on getting them up (there will be snark, commentary, and pictures, so keep an eye out!) I will leave you with this amazing piece of drum-ness. Listen for the bass drum rolls for the second half of the video that he maintains with his feet while his hands go wild.

Rocks my world, Tris does.

Look who waltzed in...

or "ZOMG!"...
or "What to do when a shemale surprises you at work" ...

Well? What do you do? Me? I performed trout mouth.

Yes, trout mouth. You know it. It's that feeling where your jaw is locked in a full open position while flapping, making you loosely resemble a beached whale.

I was calmly working at my computer (yes, doing ACTUAL work) thinking to myself, "Self, you really need to update your blog." Then that little voice in my brain said, "We would, but there's been precious little to blog about other than how to pack a box."

Anyone who knows me that this internal conversation was the beginning of the end. Just as I got to "...box" my office door opened, and--

It's a bird!


It's a plane!



It's---



Angelique!


In person! In my office! Yes, I took those photos ladies and gents! Parading all over the office.


*I want that waistline. Damn him/her.

Assorted Midway Photography

Here are a few pics that I took on the Midway of the Kansas State Fair. I was playing with my camera settings, so the blurry ones are just for color, but I thought they were cool enough to put up here just to remind you of your youth... ;-) (Click on the photos for full size.)

Chicago Concert/State Fair Commentary

Mom, Dave, and I went to Kansas yesterday afternoon to see Chicago play at the Kansas State Fair...WOW, what a time (take that for what you will...). On a S2C scale, I give them a 9.25. The first half of the concert was shaky, but without Jimmy there (he and Walt both had subs playing for them), some of the energy (or maybe the pelvic thrusting that gives the band a pop) was AWOL. After the sun went down, and the sound issues were resolved, they rocked the Grandstands!

The concert venue (aka STATE FAIR) was even more bizarre than I expected. The fair (though it was a state fair) was in a small town and seemed to resemble a county fair more than what one would expect. This man's attire seemed to sum up the event:



The people there seemed to have all their teeth, but seemed to be a little off-kilter (of course I didn't photograph the "normal" ones...there's not a good story there!)...



This car (what do you call this? A car-saic?) was at the entrance to the state fair...notice the skinny markers that run along the indentions in the bumper...










There were only about 2,000 people at the concert, and we sat right in front of the sound booth, so the view was good (except for this...the couple in front of us):



Hmm, maybe their hair attracted them to the other...just bad.


Here are some random band shots that were pretty decent:

Tris Imboden


Bill Champlin


Keith Howland


Jason Scheff


Full stage shot of Free

Two little words

Boomer Sooner!


I think that took care of the 1980s rivalry, don't you?

Incoherence

I know that I've been uncharacteristically lacking in snark on ye ole blog here of late, but I've been taking out frustrations on moving boxes. I'm moving next weekend, and the remainder of this weekend will be spent sleeping, packing, playing in church, and road tripping to see Chicago (yes, again) at the Kansas State Fair. WOOT!

More posted on Monday.

Have a splendiferous weekend. No, really.*



*Oh, and beat the hell out of Miami. Boomer Sooner!

Wherever you are in life...

Here's a song for you (you may even know that I'm talking to you. Yes, you.)...if you ever drop by.

Saying Goodbye to a Master

Luciano Pavarotti died this morning. Although the mortals are crying, the angels are singing. I can think of no better homage than this woman has written. Read, listen, and remember.

Nessun Dorma

*BRAIN BLEACH ALERT*

There's a first time for everything.


I must admit that last night was the first time I'd ever seen someone who could use their ass for a carpenter's square. The mullet just adds class.

Don't eat at Taco Bell. This could be you.

A moment of *profound* introspection

Some people would call my bluff on this whole post, but you and I know who you are and just shut it, OK?

With a loud voice that is usually talking/singing/inflicting wisdom upon others, sometimes it is missed, but as a musician, usually my soul speaks loudest through song. The tonality and timbre wrought by my hands speak louder than my voice, and tell more about me than my snarky anecdotes.

Usually weather is a moderate determinant of my mood/choice of music, and the change from summer to fall always makes me maudlin. Autumn is my favorite season--the crisp air, the bite of the clear, cold evenings before they become the norm, the unshakable feeling that another year is marching to a close (usually without me)--the former make me happy, and the latter makes me sad. I spend a great deal of time/energy between October and December contemplating meaning, purpose, and idealism. Several who know me well have noted the difference in my attitude in the fall, going into the holidays, and have mentioned it. Now it's (sort of) explained.

This morning, I was driving to work through the early-morning pre-autumn haze zoning to a soundtrack that in turns seems to be rousing or soothing depending on the situation. Those that know me well would recognize the soundtrack; those who don't would likely not understand. This morning, one song in particular spoke to me as purely as if it were my own. It echoed my feelings toward the day -- toward the season. The keening wails at the beginning, countered by pure melodic tonality. The shape of the melody, while using rhythm to suspend reality and forward motion. The subtle fading from tonality back into the sighs and wails, and the gradual slip into the next movement, characterized with a swell to a boys choir and complete timbre and quality change through a pipe organ hymn. Fantastic stuff, that.

When I get home, I may post the song. If not I'll let you live in wonder. It doesn't really matter all that much which song it is--I'm sure that each of you have a song that is the same to you.

Life is grand

79-10 and new footwear. Does life get better than this?



...and I was there all the way to the fabulous end, baby!!!

Now I sound like a man, and I'm sure that my voice will return by Friday. In time to be lost again at next week's game. Woot! Maybe I should take this opportunity to take a temp job with a 1-900 number... ;-)


Oh, and on a side note, the shoes are MINE (along with three other not-quite-so-fab pairs and an incredible purse)!

Older and Wiser?

Some of you may remember the fandamntastic time I had tutoring my Sis with calculus last summer...and you will recall that I am now enrolled in my final semester of graduate school, which requires a calculus-based economics course. Oh the never-ending bliss.

So as to be true to my usually snarky M.O., I decided to call Sis to ask if she would like to be my math tutor. Her hubby is yelling over the phone the following:

Me: Hey-a, sis! You wanna be my calc tutor?
Sis: Are you sane?
Hubby: Tell her that I'll help her with her calculus! I'll be over in 30 minutes!
Sis (to Hubby): Shut-up...you don't know math!
Hubby: 30 minutes!
Me: Fsck you.
Hubby: 20 minutes!

Hell, who says I need to attend an economics class?!? I think that was a pretty clear-cut supply and demand problem right there, friends and neighbors.

I'm in love.*

So those that know me know that I am a shoe-a-holic. In a bad way. In my current place, they have their own closet. I've found my new objets d'affection. And they're in my price range. Find these shoes coming to feet near you...








*It's such a pity that this statement only refers to material items...or is it?

Sometimg new and unexpcted

Today is my dad's birthday. I decided to give him some slack since I've not talked to him since last March (as in 2006), so I emailed him birthday wishes. It only took him 2.5 hours to get back to me, and even signed the note "Love, Dad."

Will wonders never cease.

Of all the bonehead things...

WHOA. Nutcase Knight just took the cake for the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Before I write this story, please be aware that this woman is BRILLIANT. As in seriously one of the brightest people I (sort of) know.

After the Great Mold Debacle of 20 Aught 7, NK has decided to move. She has changed her mind 17 times on the location of her new residence, but alas, she has finally decided upon one (for now). She called Sir Knight earlier to ensure that he would be available on her chosen moving date to schlep her computer from its current house to the new place. He inquired as to why she couldn't give it to the movers with the rest of her stuff, to which she replied, "I'm not sure how to move it."

Sir Knight's response to that statement was somewhere in the vicinity of "Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.?!?"
NK: "Well, I really don't know if I should unplug it."
SK: "You shouldn't. You're just going to have to leave it plugged in here and go downtown and buy a REALLY long extension cord."

LMAO. ...until this exchange about 2 minutes before I started writing this post:

*Ring, ring*
Me: "Slugfest, this is Clarinazi, can I help you?"
NK: "Is Sir Knight in?"

(Does this look familiar?)

Me: "Let me check."
Me (on intercom with SK): "If you want to sneak out, I won't turn around for thirty seconds then I can claim ignorance."
SK: "Is it NK or the Lion King?"
Me: "NK."
SK: *sigh*

...apparently she was calling to let him know that his services are no longer necessary. She had called the computer store, and the guy there had assured her that it was OK to leave her computer unplugged for more than five minutes.

Actually, she was amazed that he didn't seem concerned about when she decided to plug her computer back in at all.

DAMN. I bet that phone call made that techie's day. ;-)

Most decidedly something of interest...

The LawDog Files: Oh, hello!


I was (somehow) unaware of Amazon.com doing this...I know you can find pretty much anything online, but this is horrid. The publishing of this is bad enough, but selling it by choice?

I don't choose. Do you?

Engrish, anyone?

I know all of you have had teachers/professors/coworkers who you really didn't understand. I don't mean "understand" as from a philosophical standpoint, but "understand" as in you can't tell what they're bloody saying as they're talking to you--usually imparting very important knowledge. Like the knowledge that your HUGE assignment that was supposed to be due at the end of the semester is now due at the beginning.

I have one of these this semester (profs, not projects). ARGH! Drives me nuts! (Hah! Drives me nuts!) Anyway, he also teaches at the pace of the Galapagos tortoise. Seriously. In three hours we covered roughly ONE TOPIC. No joke. One. Over and over and over and...

Maybe I should ride the class out on his shell. By the end of the semester, I'd have made it from my desk to, oh, halfway across the room.

Clarinazi, 1; Swampdonkey, 0

Thank the Gods and little fishies!!!!!! This is a day for the history books. This morning, Swampdonkey's boss called Sir Knight and set up a meeting for this afternoon between the four of us. I know SD's boss from another program that I do for Queen Bee, and through that program, she learned of my accounting and financial background...

So today Sir Knight schlep all our stuff up to the meeting (topic unknown), and sit down to chat with Swampdonkey et al. From this battle meeting, Clarinazi and Sir Knight emerge victorious---

SWAMPDONKEY WILL NO LONGER BE THE CLAIMS PROCESSOR FOR MY SECTION!!!! As of August 1, 2007, I will be doing all the claims work since (in SD's boss’s words) “you have a strong background in financial accounting.”

SCORE!

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you game, set, and match.

This is so stuck in my head

So I'm going to share.
I think it's one of the top 5 songs EVER. It'll cost you just a nickel. Riiiight.

It's only 11:13???

This morning has been interesting. My hands are battered and bloody from stuffing 1100 poster and letters into mailing tubes. I had help--two inmates from the nearby women's prison work here, and the guy they work for graciously asked if I'd like them to help me. It's nice to know that there are nice people around. We knocked out what was looking like a two day job in about 2.5 hours. I'm tired. My brain hurts from my calc-econ class. I'm going to hide under my desk and take a nap.

Swampdonkey Rides Again

Look out world, Swampdonkey's on the loose!

We all know her antics, but ye gods and little fishies! Here in the office, we place overs and unders on (1) the percentage of claims that will be needlessly returned, and (2) the timeframe in which they will be returned.

Well, the day of the last Swampdonkey post saw another 14 claims sent to be paid. Yesterday, ALL 14 came back to me for wrong budgets. I'm sorry, but I have an MBA in accounting that should say to her, "HEY, ASSHAT! CLARINAZI KNOWS HOW TO BUDGET!" but obviously doesn't.

She laid the claims in my outstretched hand, and promptly walked out the door before I could close my mouth. 100 pages of claims, returned for no reason. The red faded from my vision, and I went, claims in paw, to Sir Knight. He looked up and asked what it was, and I told him (and this really is a quote), "That cow sent all these back and the budgets were attached!"

So Sir Knight, having little clue as to what was going on, decides to have a meeting in Swampdonkey's office. He tells me to bring all the paperwork I have, so reams of paper in hand, we trot into her office. We sit, and by this time, she is visibly shaking. Geez. I tell her that there were budgets attached to each of the claims in question and showed her a new claim with said budget attached...and she said, I know. AND PICKS UP A PILE OF BUDGETS FROM HER DESK! Is this woman for real?!?

The whole time she's been reading the budgets wrong. Imagine that. "Incorrect budget" is slug for "it's sitting on my desk, but I can't understand English and Arabic numerals enough to transfer them into an identical computer screen."

Freaking save me from the morons. Incompetence, ineptitude, and idocy are the three "I"s of my life. GRR. Defenestration, anyone???

My kind of exercise plan

I got this from a friend, and I think that this is my exercise plan of choice. It's a three-day-a-week plan...looks good to me!!!

Begin by standing on a comfortable surface, where you have plenty of room at each side. With a 5-lb potato sack in each hand, extend your arms straight out from your sides and hold them there as long as you can. Try to reach a full minute, then relax. Each day, you'll find that you can hold this position for just a bit longer.

After a couple of weeks, move up to 10-lb potato sacks. Then 50-lb potato sacks, and then eventually try to get to where you can lift a 100-lb potato sack in each hand and hold your arms straight for more than a full minute.

After you feel confident at that level, put a potato in each of the sacks.

WOOT!

Your government at work

So I was on my way to the good ole' State Capitol yesterday, and I saw the funniest series of classic slug work going on EVER. I had my camera but it was lunchtime, so there was nowhere to stop and avoid getting turned into roadkill...pity! So instead, I'll try to paint (a rather inadequate) picture for you.

On the north side of the State Capitol, there is a grassy median about two miles long that is built up so it looks like a mini-hill in the middle of the road. On the far north end of the hill-median, 7 workers were busy digging a hole. Well, truthfully, 1 was digging the hole and 6 consultants were standing by in a half-circle surrounding him. They all wore Day-Glo clothing and safety vests. The consultants didn't even have tools!!! I almost wrecked the car laughing.

Then I came over the hill. And almost wrecked the car again laughing.

Remember when you were in kindergarten or day care and every time you were going somewhere outside the complex, the teacher had a rope that you held/tied to your wrist so that no child was left behind? (HA! Pun totally intended...)

The second mile of grassy median is downhill toward the Capitol building. From the top of the hill, workers were lined up single file pulling a large flat tube (looked like a ribbon). Just like kindergarten children, there were long spaces of no people, then clumps of 5-10 in a 20 foot section. This was stretched along three turning medians (about a half-mile), so there were about 30 cars waiting for the line of workers to get to where they were going. LOL!!!!!! I almost wet myself.

Aww...

I feel like family. How amazing is it that two of my fave bloggers have found each other--and love each other. Brought tears to my eyes.

AD + Babs = 4ever

Aww!

WTF?!?

So I'm back at work after a harrowing weekend, and some asshat has turned on the HEATER in my office. Yes, the whole building. The thermometer next door showed 98 degrees at 8:00 am. They blamed it on the weather.

Oh, the electricity went off this weekend...and when it came back on, the HEATER WAS ON! Oh my!

Kill me now. Please.