In the same vein, the boss and I met with this database consultant guy to see if he would be able to make heads or tails of the "contact list" given to us by one of our clients.
In the 'pointless small talk' section of the meeting (always has to be there),
Mr. Database: I've been with the company for twenty years.
Boss: Wow, that's really something. (smiling at me) You should think about doing something for twenty years.
Mr. Database: Maybe you should try hitting your twentieth birthday. (snickers to himself)
Jackass. Yes, I look young. I understand that. But give me the benefit of the doubt, huh? Ten minutes after I met you, I could come up with at least ten reasons not to take you seriously:
10. You look like your mother dressed you.
9. You are wearing a sweater from approximately 1987.
8. The shirt underneath the sweater is wrinkled.
7. Your office is a giant mess.
6. Your computer appears to be older than my high school degree
5. You snort when you laugh
4. It smells weird in here.
3. Your pants are too short.
2. Your last name is hyphenated in some sort of pathetic nod to equality with your wife.
1. You're shaped like Humpty-Dumpty.
But did I comment on any of them or purposely make you feel uncomfortable? I did not. Don't underestimate me buddy - I'll eat you alive.
31 January 2007
28 January 2007
Take Me Out
As part of my endless quest to "do something" despite the fact that it's winter, I went to a baseball clinic run by a local amateur men's league over the weekend. It was a blast. Guys just play sports so much more seriously than girls. Sorry, but it's true. And the added pressure of working hard not to be the worst player was actually kind of welcome.
One...situation...though. The guy who was running the clinic was obviously quite worried that we (I and three female teammates) were going to get killed. He insisted on turning the pitching machine down when our turn came to bat (to be fair, he did point out that we would only see slower pitching come summertime...okay.), literally fretted about the fact that there weren't enough of us to run our own infield practice (perhaps just *watching* the boys throw would be dangerous), and hit more softly to us when we came up in the drills (none of the other hitters did this. at all.).
So this seems almost laughably sexist, right? I mean, I was offended (but really only in an eye-rolling sort of way as opposed to a steam out of the ears kind of way) at first, but then I had to admit that I could follow his reasoning. Find a guy and a girl on the street who show some interest in playing baseball. Based solely on odds, who is more likely to get hurt by a blistering ground ball? Being protected is mildly offensive, but it's not entirely wrong.
Here's what I realized though, while watching a few of the outfielders blow it repeatedly: he assumed they were able to fend for themselves. Because they were male. Even though they were much more likely to get hurt than I was.
One...situation...though. The guy who was running the clinic was obviously quite worried that we (I and three female teammates) were going to get killed. He insisted on turning the pitching machine down when our turn came to bat (to be fair, he did point out that we would only see slower pitching come summertime...okay.), literally fretted about the fact that there weren't enough of us to run our own infield practice (perhaps just *watching* the boys throw would be dangerous), and hit more softly to us when we came up in the drills (none of the other hitters did this. at all.).
So this seems almost laughably sexist, right? I mean, I was offended (but really only in an eye-rolling sort of way as opposed to a steam out of the ears kind of way) at first, but then I had to admit that I could follow his reasoning. Find a guy and a girl on the street who show some interest in playing baseball. Based solely on odds, who is more likely to get hurt by a blistering ground ball? Being protected is mildly offensive, but it's not entirely wrong.
Here's what I realized though, while watching a few of the outfielders blow it repeatedly: he assumed they were able to fend for themselves. Because they were male. Even though they were much more likely to get hurt than I was.
22 January 2007
Preoccupied...With 1985
Warning: Mildly un-PC content below. Enjoy at your own risk.
Dear New Orleans Saints,
You were going to be the saviors of the city. Everyone told us so--Katie Couric, Rick Reilly, the Sports Guy, hell even Stuart Scott, who usually doesn't fall for treacly sports crap like that. We endured your endless "tours" through the wreckage, just one noble football player, four cameras, a makeup team, and a Hummer limo. Our houses were underwater and our children in school in Texas or Georgia, but hey, football was going to save the day. Until yesterday.
Well, that didn't help at all. In fact, it was the opposite of help.
We wait out a category four hurricane on the goddamn roof and Drew Brees dithers about whether he needs a glove on his throwing hand? We lose all our possessions to ten-foot flood waters and you guys can't even hang on to the ball? If you're going to give charity, I know a city that needs it more than Chicago. And while we're on the topic, the Bears? THE BEARS?!? They have a kicker who used to work construction and a quarterback who probably should be working construction.
So, thanks for nothing. In the end, I guess it's possible a Super Bowl win wouldn't have solved all of our problems. But I guess we'll never know, will we. I'm surprised the paper bag stocks lasted the day.
18 January 2007
If 40 Is The New 30, 25 Must Be The New 15
One of my oldest friends is getting married in the spring of '08. And I'm thrilled! I must be growing up or something because I'm not sure I've ever been this happy because someone else was happy. I've had this stupid grin on my face for three days now.
It does make me wonder, though, if there will ever come a time when the idea of marriage doesn't feel like dress up. I remember asking my mom a couple of years ago when she had truly felt like an adult. If I recall correctly, she said that bringing home your own child helped, but that in some sense she still felt like the 17-year-old living in her parents house and dating my dad.
When I was in high school, I guess I just imagined that I would feel like an adult by the time I was 24 (and a half!). Like somewhere in college, perhaps at graduation, there would just be this schism, and I would come out the other side knowing how to...decide on finance terms for my car and light the pilot light and deal with frustation sans tears and stuff like that.
It didn't really work like that though. I can tell that I'm more mature, certainly, and I often realize how much I've relaxed since I was a child (I know it usually happens the other way, but most of you didn't know me as a child...). But inside, closer to the surface at some times than others, there's still that same 12-year-old I used to know. Or be. Or something.
(How my mom's inner child got five years on mine, I'll never know)
Quote of the day:
J: Hello?
Me: Hey, want to go see some country music?
J: Yeah, but I'm in the middle of a freezer emergency. Can I call you back?
It does make me wonder, though, if there will ever come a time when the idea of marriage doesn't feel like dress up. I remember asking my mom a couple of years ago when she had truly felt like an adult. If I recall correctly, she said that bringing home your own child helped, but that in some sense she still felt like the 17-year-old living in her parents house and dating my dad.
When I was in high school, I guess I just imagined that I would feel like an adult by the time I was 24 (and a half!). Like somewhere in college, perhaps at graduation, there would just be this schism, and I would come out the other side knowing how to...decide on finance terms for my car and light the pilot light and deal with frustation sans tears and stuff like that.
It didn't really work like that though. I can tell that I'm more mature, certainly, and I often realize how much I've relaxed since I was a child (I know it usually happens the other way, but most of you didn't know me as a child...). But inside, closer to the surface at some times than others, there's still that same 12-year-old I used to know. Or be. Or something.
(How my mom's inner child got five years on mine, I'll never know)
Quote of the day:
J: Hello?
Me: Hey, want to go see some country music?
J: Yeah, but I'm in the middle of a freezer emergency. Can I call you back?
07 January 2007
Auld Lang Syne
I don’t know if anyone has noticed, but I haven’t been posting as much lately.
I think there are two reasons for that: One is that I’m just busier. The new job requires maybe 8-10 more hours per week than the old one. Actually, I’m mildly surprised to say that I LOVE that. It’s honestly really nice not to have everyone drop everything and go home at 5:00 on the dot. Whether we leave at 5 or 6:30, we get something accomplished and line up the next day. It’s easier to feel like the work matters, like I’m part of something.
The other is that, frankly, I’m happier than I was last spring when I started this. That’s not to say that I only write when I’m unhappy, just that when unhappy, I tend to feel that I have no one to talk to (cat excepted, but she falls asleep too easily...in fact, she's basically always asleep) and writing is a nice alternative.
One big part of that happiness is that I've all but stopped doing things (socially) I don't want to do. Of course there are instances when you do things (or invite people) you maybe wouldn't because it's not that much skin off your...and you know it will make someone happy, but I guess I've learned which events require my presence and which don't. It's a good thing to know.
I guess my New Year's resolution (not that I make them...you can change things at any time of year) is to figure out the remaining parts. And keep them true.
I think there are two reasons for that: One is that I’m just busier. The new job requires maybe 8-10 more hours per week than the old one. Actually, I’m mildly surprised to say that I LOVE that. It’s honestly really nice not to have everyone drop everything and go home at 5:00 on the dot. Whether we leave at 5 or 6:30, we get something accomplished and line up the next day. It’s easier to feel like the work matters, like I’m part of something.
The other is that, frankly, I’m happier than I was last spring when I started this. That’s not to say that I only write when I’m unhappy, just that when unhappy, I tend to feel that I have no one to talk to (cat excepted, but she falls asleep too easily...in fact, she's basically always asleep) and writing is a nice alternative.
One big part of that happiness is that I've all but stopped doing things (socially) I don't want to do. Of course there are instances when you do things (or invite people) you maybe wouldn't because it's not that much skin off your...and you know it will make someone happy, but I guess I've learned which events require my presence and which don't. It's a good thing to know.
I guess my New Year's resolution (not that I make them...you can change things at any time of year) is to figure out the remaining parts. And keep them true.
03 January 2007
Still Roaring (After All This Time)
Holidays were great. Two four-day weekends, a lot of time with my family, tons of football (no rant from me about how we need a college playoff as the complaint practically writes itself by now--go Boise State!), and surprisingly, five or six reruns of the X-Files.
I don't know why I didn't watch when it was on for real, especially since it was on after the Simpsons, which I caught pretty religiously. Maybe I was too young. Lately though, I've been thinking about how much I would have liked it. Intelligent dialogue, a real female heroine, David Duchovny, and sci-fi. What's not to like? And I can't honestly say I've never read fanfiction on the web. (Do other people do that? I feel like it's kind of weird, but some of those writers are actually really good). Anyway, I was interested and began tivo-ing reruns.
In one of 'em, that little Lone Gunmen guy happened upon Agent Scully in a casino lounge surrounded by too-smooth men, giggling, smoking, feigning stupidity, pulling her shirt obviously off one shoulder, etc. Now, that's just not the no-nonsense Agent Scully he knows, so he takes her upstairs, where it's discovered that someone has given her some kind of shot that impairs higher brain function to promote suggestibility.
Tell me this isn't hilarious. Our tough, proud, razor-sharp Scully has her higher brain function impaired, and all of a sudden she's acting like half the girls (sorry, women now I guess) I know. The episode was written roughly ten years ago, but man, right on the money!
Quick football notes:
I just had the best time watching Notre Dame get crushed. Who knew I was capable of such hate? Delightful!
Oh yeah, and if you didn't see the Fiesta Bowl (Boise State - Oklahoma), you can apparently download it on foxsports.com. If you have ever liked college football, watch the last ten or fifteen minutes. So amazing I couldn't sleep for hours.
I don't know why I didn't watch when it was on for real, especially since it was on after the Simpsons, which I caught pretty religiously. Maybe I was too young. Lately though, I've been thinking about how much I would have liked it. Intelligent dialogue, a real female heroine, David Duchovny, and sci-fi. What's not to like? And I can't honestly say I've never read fanfiction on the web. (Do other people do that? I feel like it's kind of weird, but some of those writers are actually really good). Anyway, I was interested and began tivo-ing reruns.
In one of 'em, that little Lone Gunmen guy happened upon Agent Scully in a casino lounge surrounded by too-smooth men, giggling, smoking, feigning stupidity, pulling her shirt obviously off one shoulder, etc. Now, that's just not the no-nonsense Agent Scully he knows, so he takes her upstairs, where it's discovered that someone has given her some kind of shot that impairs higher brain function to promote suggestibility.
Tell me this isn't hilarious. Our tough, proud, razor-sharp Scully has her higher brain function impaired, and all of a sudden she's acting like half the girls (sorry, women now I guess) I know. The episode was written roughly ten years ago, but man, right on the money!
Quick football notes:
I just had the best time watching Notre Dame get crushed. Who knew I was capable of such hate? Delightful!
Oh yeah, and if you didn't see the Fiesta Bowl (Boise State - Oklahoma), you can apparently download it on foxsports.com. If you have ever liked college football, watch the last ten or fifteen minutes. So amazing I couldn't sleep for hours.
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