‘member a long, long time ago I bought a T-shirt from T-shirt Hell.com? And then I asked y’all to guess which one I bought? And then I left you hanging for over 2 months without telling you which shirt I bought? Well, wonder no longer – I finally got around to taking a pic:
Go to your hockey game and, when you get to the arena, discover that your beloved Palm Treo Smartphone is not in your jacket pocket. Look around your co-op car, but don’t find it, and tell yourself, “oh, I’m sure it fell out of my pocket when I had my jacket on the couch. It’s clearly just sitting on my couch.” Arrive home, 5 hours later and don’t find your beloved Palm Treo Smartphone sitting on the couch. In fact, don’t find it *anywhere* in your apartment. Use Skype to call it, expecting to hear your beloved ringtone on your beloved Palm Treo Smartphone, but don’t hear it. Keep Skyping it, and think you can vaguely hear it, but then decide you are just imagining it and feel the sinking realization that you may have lost your beloved Palm Treo Smartphone for good. Because it clearly is not in the apartment. Run back out to your co-op car, and search every inch of it, three times, but don’t find your beloved Palm Treo Smartphone. Your $550 beloved Palm Treo Smartphone that you definitely do not have enough money to replace. Try Skyping it and running outside to see if you can hear it ringing in your co-op car and swear that you could hear it, very faintly as you run outside and curse your low number of rings before the voicemail picks up. Find a friend who is awake at 12:30 am and Skype them, telling them they have to keep calling your cell phone until you find it. Realize at this point that you have now lost the key to your co-op car at some point during your frantic running around looking for your phone. Run outside, just to see if you can hear it coming from inside the car, even if you now have no key to get into said car. Mercifully, mercifully, hear your beloved ringtone on your beloved Palm Treo Smartphone, run to the car, but then realize that the sound is not coming from inside the car. Look around in the darkness, listening…. where is that beloved ringtone coming from? Realize in horror that it’s coming from across the road, where you had the car parked before you went to hockey, now some 5.5 hours hours ago. Find your beloved Palm Treo Smartphone sitting in a pile of wet leaves on the side of the road, where it must have been sitting for almost 6 hours! Where, mercifully, miraculously, inexplicably it was neither stolen nor run over2. Pick it up, caress it, tell it you are so, so sorry and you’ll never let it fall out of your pocket again.
Now face another half hour of searching for the co-op car key. Which it turns out you dropped on the front lawn, but this somehow requires you go over the lawn with a fine toothed comb like six times before it turns up. Finally, mercifully be able to return your co-op car at 1 a.m., face the walk home from dropping off the car knowing you still need a post-hockey shower and you have to get up at 6 a.m. *Sigh*.
I’m pretty sure this experience will increase my phone- and car key-losing paranoia, which was already at what I believed to be an unreasonable level, exponentially.
1Alternative titles for this blog posting include, “Also Not To Be Trusted With Cell Phones,” and “Truly the Dropper of All Things Valuable.”
2The one benefit of living in the sleepy area of the city, where all the elderly people live. No one is outside past 5 pm and so no one can hear your cell phone ringing and steal it. If I’d dropped a $550 gadget on the side of the road in downtown Vancouver or Kits, it would have been gone within seconds!
Just received this email:
From:DR NICK COLE.
Manchester M27 5FX, United Kingdom.
This is to inform you that your funds of US$10 Million has been approved for immediate delivery to you.For the purpose of clarification,you are advised to reconfirm:
(1)Your Full Names———
(2)Your Direct Telephone Numbers——–
(3)Your Physical Address with Zip Code——-
So that there will be no error during the delivery of the funds to you in your country of residence.Your quick response will be highly appreciated.
DR NICK COLE.
Thank god. I can really use $10 Million, even if it is in crappy US dollars.
Ever wonder what 3 months worth of recycling looks like? Well, wonder no longer:
This is the recycling that has been piling up in my kitchen since the city workers’s strike started back in July. They are *finally* going to pick up recycling this week and I can’t wait to put this stuff outside and get my kitchen back!!
In other cleaning-up-my-place news, I was struck with my biennial “I feel like cleaning” mood on Friday and did some tidying up and organizing. Apparently there is this new invention that’s like a sponge on a stick and you put the sponge part in soapy water and run it across your floor. I believe they call it a “mop.” So I tried that out and now have shiny kitchen and bathroom floors1
Some other features of my newly semi-organized place include taking my shoe collection from looking like this:
To looking like this:
Although I do have to admit that even with a five-story shoe rack, I don’t have enough room for all my shoes2
Also, I hung up a whole bunch of stuff on the walls, as seen here:
“Haida Killer Whale – Skaana” by Bill Reid
My friend Therese brought these two pieces,
which apparently I have not hung up straight,
back from San Fran for me.
as gifts to everyone at their wedding. The gingerbread man cutting board
was given to me by either my mom or my sister (I can’t remember which).
(Go to the Flickr page if you want to see what each of these degrees/diplomas/awards are).
Of course, there are still piles of paper on various tables, chairs, filing cabinets and other available surfaces (photos not available3), but I’m sure I’ll get around to cleaning them up in 2009, when the mood to clean hits me again.
1Although the tile in my kitchen, like the paint on the walls and all the furniture, is older than me, so it still kinda looks like crap.
2Plus, there are four more pairs in my bedroom that I forgot to take a photo of and I’m too lazy to take a photo and upload it now that I’ve realized that I didn’t take a photo of them.
3Because I don’t want to document what a slob I am. Despite my claims to the contrary, I’m really not at all about fair and balanced reporting .
OMG. I just saw this over on Kris‘s blog and I had to share it with you. HAD TO.
I’m pleased to announce the publication of my latest study!
Click here to read the whole paper (.pdf).
Seriously, you want to read this paper. I promise you won’t be disappointed. It’s even got pictures or, as we science-y types call them, “figures.”
In response to this morning’s posting, Dave did waaaaaay too much work sifting through my old blog postings not to use one of his suggestions for a new blog title. And seeing as how I just sliced the hell out of my thumb making dinner tonight, I laughed my ass off at the thought of naming my blog “Not To Be Trusted With Knives.1” And seeing as the point of this blog, as far as I can tell, is to amuse myself, let’s go with that and see how it works out.
1For reference, this is the blog posting to which this title refers.
As you can tell from the top the screen, my blog kinda needs a new name. I’ve never been good at naming things. As a kid, I had a stuffed bunny rabbit named Bunny, a stuffed frog named Froggy, a stuffed puppy dog named Puppy, and, believe it or not, a stuffed penguin named Pengy1. Probably the low point in my naming things career came when my sister and I got this set of stuffed teddy bears with movable limbs; she had the big one, I had the little one. Their names? Mr. Movable Bear and Baby Mr. Movable Bear. My one great shining moment in naming something occurred in 2004 when I came up with a brilliant title for this article, but the instructor of the course for which I wrote that paper was not a Kubrick fan and thus my moment of naming-ability glory came crashing down.
My blog has been nameless for quite some time. I briefly tried out Total Perspective Vortex early this year, but it didn’t stick. As you can probably tell, the only way this blog with have a name other than Bloggy is if I steal something from film or literature. But I’m OK with that, if only I could find something that I liked.
And then along came Infinite Jest. I’ve been reading IJ for about a thousand years now, ever since *somebody*2 recommended it to me. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a *fantastic* book, just very, very long and quite dense, so it’s been taking me a while to read3. As I was reading, a great name for my blog occurred to me when I read the following description:
“The monologues seem both free-associative and intricately structured, not unlike nightmares. There’s no telling what’ll be up on a given night. If there’s one even remotely consistent theme it’s maybe [hockey]4.”
That’s a description of Madame Psychosis’s radio show, but don’t you think it fits my blog perfectly? Don’t you think I should change my blog name to “Madame Psychosis”?
Unfortunately, I appear to have missed the boat. By 4 years.
So, instead, I’ve decided to use the name Madame Psychosis for one of my other nameless things – my laptop. I brought Madame Psychosis to work today, because my work computer, which is currently nameless5, is a freaking piece of crap.
1I still have all of these stuffed animals, except Pengy. I don’t know what happened to Pengy. Poor Pengy.
2You know who you are.
3I guess if there is ever a good time to be reading a really, really long book that takes you forever to get through, it’s when the library workers go on strike for three months and counting…
4the real phrase here may or may not have been “film and film cartridges” rather than “hockey”
5although I can think of a few choice names for it sometimes
Dear Every Other Driver on Highway 1 in the Pouring Rain Last Night,
That space between me and the car in front of me is there for a reason. And the reason is not that you can zoom into said space at a high rate of speed and then slam on your brakes because, lo and behold, there is a car in front, you asshat.
Someone Who Actually Knows How Drive a Car
For years, I’ve been using a visor on my hockey helmet that doesn’t fit properly1. In fact, I’ve been using it since I started playing hockey almost 5 years ago. It was a handy-me-down from my ex – he didn’t like playing with a full face shield, so got himself a half visor and I acquired the ill-fitting full one2. After 4 years of hockey, this visor is now scratched all to hell and it’s always fogged up something terrible. And, really, when you think about it, it’s probably not the best idea to have your safety equipment jury-rigged together. So I finally broke down and bought my own properly fitting visor.
Attaching said visor to my helmet, however, was no small feat. I mean, look at these directions:
Aside from the fact the chart that tells you if this visor will actually fit your particular helmet is *inside* the packaging (meaning you don’t know for sure until you buy it if it’s going to fit), you seem to need an engineering degree to assemble this damn thing. They appear to have one set of instructors for like 5 different types of visors, so it’s all “For concept II protectors (type 1 and 2), thread the chin strap through the chin cup and face protector as shown in figures 2 and 4.” And I’m all “mine is what concept? what type? whose figure? My cat’s breath smells like cat food.” I mean, for crying out loud, you need a 3 part picture, with multiple arrows, just to loop the chinstrap through the side of the visor:
… and that’s before you even start attaching screws and clips and suchlike. Speaking of which, does anyone have any idea what these screws are for?
Because they were left over when I was done and I don’t see anything in the instructions saying what I was supposed to have done with them.
Anyway, although it did take much longer that I expected, by some miracle I seem to have attached the new visor to the helmet in enough time to actually blog this before I have to go pick up my co-op car for tonight’s game.
Also, I’m fighting off a cold, so I’ve affixed some warning signs to my water bottle:
Hockey players tend to drink out of any bottle on the bench and, since I’d hate to get any more people sick than I’ve already infected, I figured a couple of bright purple signs will help.
1It’s an adult-sized visor and all my equipment is junior boys.
2I’m of the opinion that this face is far too pretty not to have full protection.
According to Wikipedia, there are 69 nicknames for Elizabeth:
They kind of cheat by counting “Lili,” “Lillie” and “Lily”, and “Liz,” “Lizz”, “Lizzie” and “Lizzy” all as different names, but even still, that’s a lot of names. But then they don’t have “Bethy” or “Bethie” (which a surprising number of people actually call me, given that I’m 30), but they do have “Bethey,” a way I’ve never, ever seen it spelled. Ever.
And from now on, I think everyone should call me Tetsy. Seriously? Tetsy is a name?