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Monday, September 30, 2002
I Don't Think That Word Means What You Think It Means, Part II
While I am basically digging my new portable CD/MP3 player avec car kit (a boon in my CD-playerless car), it and I seem to have different ideas of what exactly constitutes "random play." To my mind, it means that each time I fire that puppy up with the CD I burned with a few hundred of my favorite tunes it should select and play back a different bunch in different order. Stands to reason, no? This saves me from having to listen to them in the order they were saved to the disc, which was alphabetical by artist, since that's how they're stored by default on my PC. The player, on the other hand, happily accepts my menu choice of "Random Play" and even displays a cute little dice icon on its teeny-tiny screen, but while it does mix up the tunes un-alphabetically, it plays them back in the same "random" order every time, even after the player is turned off, the CD removed and shaken up (humor me) then re-inserted. Now, I like Prince's Raspberry Beret, the Kinks' Come Dancing and Dire Straits' Heavy Fuel -- wouldn't have them on the disc if I didn't -- but I don't want to hear those same three songs every morning as I drive to work. I want randomnicity dammit!
this piece woven by Sandra Hull @
9:53 PM
20% Ashamed of Myself
So I stopped by the shopping mall across the street from the office yesterday to get information on an improv class. Yes, an improv class at the mall; the economy sucks so stores close and improv clubs and health clubs open in their place. I've been good for a long time about not spending lunch hours there too often to indulge my inner shopaholic, but since I was *right there* anyway, I went into Hecht's (a department store in the May Company family). Turns out that they were having one of their periodic mega-sales so I swung by the women's clothing section and picked out a khaki skirt (I'm wearing it today, see how nice?), knit top and denim shirt. While waiting in line at the register I noticed the other customers sorting through handfuls of newspaper coupons and I groaned inwardly. Hecht's usually puts extra-savings coupons in the Post when they have a big sale. The drugstore at the mall runs out of papers very early on sale days. Since I get Sunday-only delivery and ignore the ads in there to the extent possible, this little piggy had none, couponwise. Ah, well. Still, when my turn came and the clerk asked me if I had any coupons I managed an innocent, inquisitive look, possibly even cocking my head to one side, and asked "Coupons? What for?" The clerk smiled kindly and said "They give you an extra 20% off the sale price. That's ok, I'll give it to you anyway." I feigned surprise to learn of this and thanked her profusely. She seemed to take such pleasure in doing me the favor that I didn't have the heart, nay, the courage, to mention that the "What coupon?" routine has worked for me several times in the past.
I might be more ready for that improv class than I thought.
this piece woven by Sandra Hull @
4:18 PM
To whom it may concern: sit on it
Now that it's been dealt with diplomatically through proper channels, let me just say on a personal level to the person or persons who helped themselves to most of the chairs in the small training room because the class they were attending in the large training room next door had a larger-than-expected turnout: Did it never occur to you that the people taking the class scheduled for the small room might like to sit down, too? Did it never even occur to you to check to see if there was a class scheduled in that room before you went foraging? When I arrived to set up to teach that class, a class that was on the same calendar that yours was, incidentally, someone from your group offhandedly suggested that I contact Meeting Services to get more chairs for my group. Oh, thanks heaps. Luckily, they delivered chairs in short order but, um, here's a question: Why the flingin-flangin fluck didn't YOU do that for YOUR class? Why did I have to delay my class and inconvenience my students to replace chairs that YOU stole? Oh, and you took adjustable computer chairs for people in your class to use, people who weren't going to be using computers. My students, who were attending a hands-on computer class had to make do with non-adjustable chairs which were so unsuitable that one person went to her own desk at our break and brought back her own computer chair.
Not such a big deal, taking chairs, you say. Disagree! It was selfish and inconsiderate, not to mention unprofessional. And your mom dresses you funny, so there.
Oh, and while I'm ranting: if you're going to deliver your class lecture in such a loud, booming voice, the considerate (there's that word again!) thing to do is CLOSE THE FREAKING CLASSROOM DOOR. The people in the adjoining classroom, offices and conference rooms will thank you for it.
this piece woven by Sandra Hull @
9:32 PM
Pore, pore, pitiful me
While I'm no militant grammar Nazi, it does pain me that several of my immediate coworkers are casual about spelling and usage. (It's "I put two tickets in your queue" people, not "ticket's in you're que".) I don't lecture; what would be the point? Instead I take comfort in snippets overheard in the hallways, where many of the scientist-type users we support can be heard to say things like "in these studies, the emphases are on... ," and "the data are..."
Why, yes, I did spend more time in my teenage years poring over reference materials than fashion magazines, why do you ask?
this piece woven by Sandra Hull @
9:21 PM
One of my TopFive comrades has fallen
... and way too soon. Don Swain was only 26. As is the case with many of my fellow contribs, I knew Don only as the unseen author of top-notch TopFive material and posts on our contributor-only chat list, yet my sense of loss is as sharp as was his sense of humor.
Whenever I'm having a low moment at work I glance at the portion of my wall where resides a handful of tacked-up e-mail messages from various contribs congratulating me on rare flashes of humor-writing brilliance, to remind myself that no matter what happens when I do what I do for a living, what I do for the sheer joy of it (my humor writing, pay attention here) is appreciated by others. More importantly, it is appreciated by others who do the same thing and often are better at it than I am. Among the "attagirl" messages is one from Don, dated March 2000. It has always brought a smile to me when I look at it but just now there's a great big lump in my throat.
Thanks for the props, Don, and thanks for the laughs. See you on the other side, indeed.
this piece woven by Sandra Hull @
3:12 PM
Is that why they're called "Sugar Daddies"?
Overheard at the office snack bar this morning:
Woman 1 (twentysomething): Man, I need a sugar fix this morning! I'm getting an extra-large Coke, a biscuit with honey and I'm putting syrup on my grits.
Woman 2 (older, near retirement age): Well, you'll be bouncing off the walls all morning for sure but you'll want a nap in the afternoon.
Woman 1: (laughs) I know that's right.
Woman 2: That's what sugar does to you. It lifts you way up here (raises hand high over head) but it leaves you way down here (lowers hand to a few inches above the floor).
[Pause]
Woman 2: Just like men.
this piece woven by Sandra Hull @
8:51 AM
Toot, toot, tootsies goodbye
The coming end of summer means that my toes and I will become strangers soon. Today, for the first time since sometime around Memorial Day, I am wearing shoes and socks instead of my usual sandals. I chose comfy oxfords and soft cotton anklets on purpose this morning to give my dogs a gentle introduction back into captivity, so all is well -- so far. We'll see how the little piggies really are when I get all the way home. This also spells the onset of more tedious laundry days -- sorting and folding socks takes up about as much time as folding everything else.
this piece woven by Sandra Hull @
4:17 PM
Dear Abbie
I had occasion to visit the office library today to assist the librarian with a database query issue. She was on the phone when I arrived so I browsed the paperback swap shelf while waiting for her to finish her conversation. Amid the usual Stephen Kings and bodice-rippers was a tattered copy of Abbie Hoffman's Steal This Book, a title that looms large in my legend but which I had never actually read or indeed ever seen in person. Of course I snapped it right up. My glee was diminished when I realized that taking the book from a shelf filled with free books doesn't quite earn me revolutionary stripes. What I'll do is NOT return it to the swap shelf when I'm done with it, or else return it to a different swap shelf. That's right. I'm a radical. You can't stop me. Up the revolution!
this piece woven by Sandra Hull @
4:24 PM
Good news, bad news: so what else is new?
The bruise is healing nicely, thanks. Um, that's the good news. All week as I've gesticulated with my right hand, as is my wont especially when I'm teaching, I've caught looks of alarm from gesticulatees who no doubt had me pegged for a battered woman.
Bad news came from my mom this week, twofold. She spent a few days back in the hospital for observation and yet another medication adjustment following last spring's heart surgery. What might have pushed her was the loss on Monday of her beloved King Charles Cavalier Spaniel, Nobby, to -- ironically -- heart failure, which that breed is prone to, apparently. I've kept the pet talk to a minimum here, but when you lose a member of the family it's worth noting, no matter how furry that family member was. I'll let Mom eulogize him here; she did it so well:
"Nob and I walked many miles together, had hours of lap sitting, head stroking and he supervised everything that Dad and I ate. I don't think nutrition was really his forte, but he was right there lest we drop something or just couldn't finish. You have to love that in a guy! We are recovering from the loss but as you know it takes a lot of time. I really loved him, a strange spaniel who didn't like to get wet, couldn't swim, thought at twenty pounds that he was the biggest dog in the hood, snored louder that any man with adenoids, and would sit for hours carrying out his long DNA coding as a lap dog."
this piece woven by Sandra Hull @
10:22 PM