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Showing posts from March, 2008

Orca: Ocean Jerk

Okay so I’m reading a book on odd animal behaviour called “Why Pandas Do Handstands”, by Augustus Brown, and I just have to share this tidbit about killer whales: “The killer whale, or orca, is one of natures’ most ingenious predators, with a wide range of tricks for capturing its prey. Orcas have been known to beach themselves in order to catch sea lions, upend ice floes to tip seals and penguins into the sea, and slap their tails on the water’s surface to wash birds off rocks into their path.” Okay, all rather foreseeable. I’ve been known to grab a barbeque fork to help hook a box of cereal from the top of my cupboards when I have the munchies and don’t want to take the time to grab a footstool. You’re hungry, you do what you got to do. But this is just cold, man: “Their most spectacular trick, however, is reserved for sharks. The orca kills its deep sea rival by torpedoing up into the shark’s stomach from underneath, causing it to explode.” When I first read that, I thought it ...

Insight for the Day

On my way back to work from lunch today, I saw a man jogging with his dachshund. Not fast, mind you, but definitely jogging. Oooh those little dachshund legs were going -- the front appeared to be motoring in independence of the rear, but both ends were keeping up admirably. And that dog was happy. Every few seconds he'd beam up at his master without missing a step. Every other few seconds were spent sneaking as quick a whiff of his surroundings as his locomotion and leash would allow (... scent hounds must succomb to their baser instincts after all...). The lesson? Function can transcend form. Or: Even if you don't think you're figuratively (or literally) built for something, it'll come through if it's in your heart (... but don't forget to always take stock of what's around you. You don't want to discover too late that you jogged past an errant McDonald's french fry.)

Superior Wednesdays

Man, how I love America's Next Top Model. Love it! I watch these gaggle of girls who don't have a brain synapse to rub together amongst them, and I am reminded of the prophecy of Judge Judy: beauty fades; dumb is forever. Do you watch it? These young women who are supposed to be adults invariably bawl to the camera about how much they miss home. Like not one of them has ever even attended a sleepover before in their obviously sheltered lives. Then they call their moms at the end of the day to whine that the other girls in the house have been mean to them. Not that the modelling tasks are difficult. Not that they're sick or they're tired -- that other girls are being mean to them. What do they expect their moms to do? Call the other girls' moms and say "Your 19 year old daughter made my 22 year old daughter cry. Make your daughter be nice to mine." And this season, all the communication from Tyra comes via an electronic scroll-screen, so these girls stand ...

*knuckles cracking*

Okay - new day! New start! New attitude! Combined Turtle-Squirrel Perspective (see below if this just throws you for a complete loop) and away we go. Work, first. I've been wracking my brain on how to make my job less stressful, and finally last night I came up with it: Quit stressing. I've been asking for help with my workload for months now, only to be met with a stony silence that is only shattered when the Committee asks why I haven't done more, done it better and done it quicker. Well they know why. They just aren't acknowledging why. Or doing anything to help me handle the why. So from here on in, I do my best. And if anyone comes down on the Committee because more or better reports aren't being produced and faster, that's not on me. I'm the only one around here trying. They can all -- as my father was fond of saying when I was young -- pound sand up their nose. (frankly, at this point I would love it if the Committee was found to be ine...

Happy end of Easter Weekend

Yay! Four day weekend. I had such plans. I was going to get so much writing done. I was going to finish unpacking and rearranging my apartment. I was going to see a movie. It was going to be such an awesome four days, man! But I forgot one important point -- we're talking about me, here. I traditionally underperform on myself. And how depressing is that, eh? It's annoying to know you've let someone else down. What's the point when you constantly let yourself down? And I didn't even get a visit from the Easter Bunny. Crappy rabbit.

Happy Birthday Cutie!

The Turtle Perspective

It’s Christmas in Hawaii. Back on “the mainland”, you have stress. Work is piling up. Coworkers don’t know how close they come to forcing you to reduce them to photographs on the side of milk cartons. Chances are your apartment is messy, your bank account isn’t what it should be at your age, family and friends wonder why you can’t attract a nice guy into your life (obviously you’re not the one to ask – you want to tell them to track down the guys you’ve met over the years and ask them why none have stayed for a longer conversation than “Hmm, that’s fascinating. Nice to meet you, but I’m going to walk over *there* now”) and you realize you’ve spent your entire adult life in pursuit of a paycheque rather than your dreams because the brief period of time in your life when you did pursue your dreams you had to constantly explain to people that no, you didn’t quit a good job with little thought to your financial security and no, it isn’t the same as running off to join the circus because y...

Party Crashing (Niece-Appropriate Post)

(if I'm going to write about her, I figure she should be able to see what I'm saying) This weekend was my niece's 10th birthday party. I had promised her last year to come down for the big one-oh, and one must honour one's commitments to children. They may look like they aren't paying attention to you when you speak, but then they repeat something you said in passing under your breath to yourself, and you realize they are like owls -- except, while owls appear to be all eyes, kids are all ears. Thus ends the extent of my first-hand knowledge of kids. I have only my own experiences as a child myself for all other opinions. Speaking of my own experiences, I wish I had had a birthday party with Dance Dance Revolution for PS2 when I was a child. Oh, how my mother wouldn't have had to plan any other single thing for my parties -- just plug in the game, and go out for a quiet dinner with Dad content in the knowledge that when she returned we wouldn't have even not...

A Squirrel Perspective

I was walking home yesterday fully engrossed in talking to myself and imagining the worst for my performance review on Wednesday (a long story that I won’t give credence to by spelling out here: suffice it to say my boss is putting the responsibility of the backlog that has been caused by our three-person office being reduced to a two-person office for almost a year now solely at my feet for no reason other than what I have to assume is personal) when I heard quite the scuffle coming from the trees across the street. As I paused to watch, two squirrels played Tag in the trees. Except I got the distinct impression that “It” wasn’t so much wanting to tag the runner as tear his fuzzy wittle head clear off his boney itsy shoulders. Up and down, around the trunk, from branch to branch and back again, the head squirrel kept the slightest of leads on what appeared to me to be a squirrelly serial killer. Front guy would sprint left on the top of the branch with his pursuer’s claws inches fr...

If you're going to dislike a haircut, dislike a $16 cut.

(Hey, did you know you can just put your digital camera's image card directly into your laptop - screw the photo cable? I didn't until my sis-in-law enlightened me. What a world we live in.) Years ago I decided the hell with hair salons. You pay all that money to have someone who is supposedly trained and experienced to do your hair, they ask what you want ... and then they just give you whatever cut they want to anyway. They use your hair without your permission or request to experiment with whatever new style or cut or form they are itching to try out -- and then they ask you to pay them $50 to $60 bucks for using you as a training head. So since then, I've just gone to SuperCuts. Or CornerCuts. Or whatever they call that place where you just walk in, don't pay for a shampoo or style if you don't want to, then 30 minutes and $16 later you have a bare minimum cut that they didn't waste a minute on fluffing or contouring or waxing or hairspraying or otherwise ha...

A Place-Holder Post:

I'm really jonesing to share my adventures with a new haircut ... but I haven't unpacked my whole apartment and for the life of me can not find the cord that allows me to upload pictures from my digital camera to my computer. The story is really only compelling if you can follow along with visual cues. Blast my random packing in the last moments of my ill-planned move! Until I tear apart my boxes, I'll have to settle for telling you that I am on the verge of financial impropriety. I've already spent more money than I should admit on the aforementioned move (I threw money at the problem of not having friends to help me move and not wanting to move the heavy stuff myself ... and I fear fistfuls escaped my grasp) and now my vehicle requires some serious repairs (didn't help that putting together non-individually-heavy items in bulk quantities into my RAV4 created a heavy load for the already ailing struts ... throw in the random slush and piled ice encountered on Edm...