Unless you happen to be willing to take my boss, Lissla, we have no trade. I dislike cell phones because they constitute an Electronic Leash of Infinite Length, and therefore are to be despised. Do you realize that my father can now contact me at any time, day or night? And that I now have no excuse for not calling him back? And that, at any given time, I might be required to drive my truck over to my parents’ house, pick up my dad, go pick something up, bring it back to my parents’ house, and then do some actual physical labor? Do you?
It’s hell, I tell you. HELL. The fact that my girlfriend might need to contact me at any moment doesn’t enter into it. I hate cell phones.
I want a wiggly dance anyway. Tape it just for me, 'kay? I’ll e-mail you my mailing address. Screw that, I’ll drive up there and pick it up. What’s six and a half hours between friends?
I sure hope welby is thinking up something good, because he’s got a lot on his plate.
Kallessa, will you be going back to that building? I think you should go into Dr. Babe’s office and hang out in the waiting room. Maybe you’ll get a glimpse of him. I’d love to know if he is a babe!
Wow, this board just seems to run away if I can’t get in here to post.
Lemme see here. The weather today is “comfortable”; not raining, not overly hot, slight breeze. Yesterday was pretty darn warm.
Someone messed up my dang monitor here and now it’s tilting down. I can’t get it to tilt back up. SOMEONE musta broke it and now I’m annoyed.
Being as how I’m fed gummint civil slave I have Friday off too. The code for my time card is “LH” which means holiday leave. I am having a hard time calling Friday a “holiday”. It just doesn’t seem right, even though I didn’t care for ol’ Ronnie as a president. He wasn’t any friend to civil servants…
I thought Something’s Gotta Give was absolutely hilarious. I really had to twist Mr. Taters arm to watch it, but once he did the thought it was hilarious too. He thought it was going to be a “chick flick” which, of course, being a guy, he can’t stand. I’m not much into “chick flicks” either. I like action, drama, good comedy, or mystery.
I stopped at the ol’ grocery store on the way home and bought the fixin’s for french dip. I thought that sounded mighty tasty. In addition, I already had some horseradish cheddar cheese here at home and that ought to jazz up the french dips re-e-e-a-a-l nicely. I also bought some sinfully delicious Moose Tracks ice cream. Hopefully, I’ll actually get to eat a couple of scoops before the kiddos eat it all.
I don’t think of myself as “old” either. I’m glad that I’m not the same person I was in my twenties. I really think I’m a better person now too. Besides, as was mentioned earlier, we “mature” women have more experience and wisdom in all kinds of different things.
Well, I better cook dinner before they all start whining about how hungry and deprived they are.
well I haven’t seen Something’s Gotta Give but I HAVE seen Serial Mom which is now Mrs Dangergene’s favourite film. I’m just saying is all.
sigh
SIGH
Ok, as the resident* 'stralian here, I guess it falls to me to 'splain Cricket.
**Cricket**
*(the abridged rules as related by Danger '1st offside silly wicket' gene)
Two men enter,
One man leaves. *
It’s that simple folks! Oh, and it’s boring. It’s so boring that if Rue went up to the Cricketeers (which is a much better term than boring, traditional ‘Cricketer’, thanks to whoever came up with that one). Yeah, if Rue went up and said ‘hi’ (or whatever Rue would say in such a situation, I wouldn’t presume to speak for him) then I’m pretty sure all the Cricketeers would stop playing and come and talk to Rue about anything, anything at all, just to make the game more interesting.
Alternately, Rue would discover that not only is Cricket boring, but Cricketeers are boring too. Especially the ones who wear actual Cricket whites to pay the game.
BORING! BORING! BORING!
And in other news, I got splooshed yesterday.
A car drove past me (Walking Gene) and SPLOOSH**, I was suddenly all wet.
I needed a hug, but you guys were all asleep!
So I had to get my wife to give me a hug, it’s good to have a wife.
*ok, ok, so i’m not really a resident there anymore, cos i’m here in Singapore,
but I’m from there, and I grew up playing cricket.
There.
That counts, doesn’t it?
dangergene, darlin’, we’ve got to stop meeting like this.
Cricketeers sounds like a '60’s folk duo that sang protest songs–but up-tempo protest songs.
My mini-work rant: I work for a union. A union that makes health care its number one issue–hold the line on health care is our rallying cry. And yet, this same union, as an employer, keeps trying to slide a re-opener into our contract–excuse me, not a re-opener, a trigger–so they can cost shift insurance if premiums go up. Of course, as employees, one of the things we’re trained to do, by this employer, when bargaining contracts with our members, is to watch out for the employer trying to do a cost shifting re-opener! My response–I want to get a big picture of Roy Roger’s horse, Trigger. On this picture I would print :
Roy had his Trigger stuffed.
Stuff yours!
Really I’m more upset because they are disrespecting a collegue whose work I respect greatly and giving her bumpkis when she’s been one of their go-to people for years. They are nickle and diming a reclass for her (and a couple of other people) for no better reason than they think they can. Normally, I’m very proud of my union, both as a member and as an employee, so when they pull this “boss” garbage, it really hurts.
I will now return you to your normal, :wally Kallessa.
Ex, I know what you mean about the cell phone, but there’s an easy solution, and it only takes a week or two to put into effect.
Days 1-2 : Call your dad and say, “Did you call me? No? The caller ID shows that you called me. Really? Hmm, that’s weird.” Do this 3 or 4 times.
Days 3-6: Repeat days one and two, but mention in passing that your caller ID seems a little freaky and that your messages won’t play back on the voicemail.
Days 7-9: Repeat above, but add “I really think I need to get a new cell phone. I think this one is broken.”
Days 10 - 14: Do nothing. Return no calls. Then call your dad and repeat Step one, and the end of Step 3. Then tell him that you’ve had the phone checked out and they won’t replace it becasue they think it works perfectly. Tell him the voice mail is screwed up still, and the you’re getting caller ID messages on an hourly basis.
It worked with my mom. For a couple of months anyway.
Actually, I agree with you about cell phones, Ex. I don’t understand this neurotic fear of not being available at all times. It’s a weird invasion of privacy- You Must Have A Cell Phone So That People Can Phone You And Tell You Stupid, Pointless Things! I had a friend who would phone on his way up your street, just to let you know he was almost there.
I really wish we could organize an MMP Dopefest sometime, but everyone’s so far apart. Sigh.
We got an eviction notice from our building yesterday. You know why? Because we have a mirror attached to the wall. The eviction notice says we have to take it down or they’ll evict us slightly after we move out. And then put bad stuff on our Tenant Record.
And my brother-in-law and his girlfriend are having a baby. I’m going to be an aunt. I’m adjusting to the idea.
Ex, if you’re willing to drive up here, I’ll do a wiggly dance for you. Mr. Lissar permitting, of course- otherwise you might have to do your patented Kung-fu Screaming-and-running-away-like-a-little-girl.
Oh, yeah- Mr. Lissar is packing the computer on Saturday, so I won’t get to the MMP until maybe Wednesday or so.
Dangergene, don’tcha mean you’re gonna spline Cricket?
Okay, my testimony in tribute to older wimmins is: I am 56 years old and I never felt better in my life. I eat healthy, work out, and don’t foul my mind with resin no mo. I weigh less than The Princess and can wear all her clothes. Mr. Anachi is nine years younger than me and he thinks I’m sexy as all get out. What more could I want out of life, eh? (Well, maybe a peek at Orlando Bloom neked)
My sister’s kid (8 months) is adorable. She doesn’t like me at all, but she’s adorable. Ex’s girlfriend picks her up: grins and giggles. Ex picks her up: screaming for mommy.
I have a cell phone, so I can call 911 after I get my ass kicked. I figure, even if he busts all my fingers I can still dial with my nose or an elbow or something.
Absent Rue we’ll probably have killed it by Wednesday.
I like the plan welby, but I’m a little afraid of trying it. My dad is way,way smarter than I am, and he’s sure to catch on. He’d probably also insist on taking my phone to get it fixed himself. I’m stuck.
And, at the possible price of undermining the whole thread, I offer this:
1 - my husband terrorized small children too. We used him as a barrier when kids would act up. Don’t want the kids playing on the stairs? Sit Parallax there and no kid will look twice at the stairs for the remainder of the evening. Look and smile at a baby - watch baby burst out screaming. Then we had a baby. He’s now a kid magnet. I think men go through a pheromone shift when they become fathers. This is something done for children’s safety. Kids know when you’re clueless and scream in self defense
2 - I tell people the cell phone if for MY convenience not THEIRS. Simple.
Is it easier for people to fly into Columbus (that would be the one in Ohio, natch) or into Dayton (again, Ohio)? Just checking really. And don’t you bother answering Ex (and, hey, don’t cell phones turn off?), we’ll just have to drug you and fly you out unconscious. Like B.A. Baracus, only with less jewelry.
You know what? I am still one of the maybe three people in the country that do not have a cell phone. I view them as a nuisance and yet another bill to pay. So, if folks want to talk to me they have call me on the land line or come see me at home. I don’t understand people that feel they have to talk on the cell phone every flippin’ minute for every pointless thing…
I think we should have a MMP Dopefest in Washington…it’s pretty here and, well, that would mean I could attend.
It’s time for some really bad poetry, 'cause I need to take a break from being the all-serious-I’m-at-work-guy.
I hates my cell phone. Hates it, I do
I would like to squash it, with my shoe
I’d jump up and down, yelling with glee
'Cause then no one, ever, could call to bother me.
A haiku:
My cell phone’s broken
In peices on the pavement
Silence is golden
In other news, I went home to Connecticut and Vermont this past weekend for a funeral and a wedding (that sounds like a movie) and I realized that I can’t live out here in the hell-hole that is LA anymore. So, the gf and I have hatched a two year plan to get ourselves back on the right coast by the end of 2006. Wish us luck!
