Happy Belated New Year

Since I can't seem to get around and be clever enough to post something from my own brain, please enjoy: http://www.yourbabyisanasshole.com/

I was on an airplane today from Atlanta to San Francisco with a screaming baby. Nearly five hours of screaming baby. ...and was he perfectly screamed-out and adorable at baggage claim?? Oh, yes, he was. His poor mom looked like hell.

Online Dating

A tip from me to you: the following words and phrases should NOT be used when online dating. These are above and beyond spelling errors and shirtless guys in their alleged photos (most of whom should have kept their shirts on). These words and phrases have been offered to me - and the world at-large - on a lovely silver platter and they immediately make me think, “No thanks.”

Alpha Male
Fetish
Prideful
“my grandchildren” (I’m not yet 40, is what I’m getting at)
“spend lots of time playing video games”
Lover (I just hate that word)
“can drink 1 ½ times my weight” (I hope that was a joke)
“Many women find me attractive.” (Oh, REALLY??)
“a member of the KISS Army”
Yankees fan (move along, pal)
“My cat thinks I’m purrrfect.” (and I think you’re gay)
No Baggage (yeah, buddy…me either)
No Drama (ditto)
Experienced (what the hell does THAT mean?) (Ohhhhh. Yeah, probably)

Man Overboard

Our offices were renovated, and we were displaced for some months last year (like a little asbestos is gonna kill ya...) and have been back here since mid-April. I moved right back to where I was before, in a little cluster of three cubicles. My other two cube-mates moved down a floor, and I'm rather isolated now. A lot of foot-traffic by my desk, but no one sitting on either side of me. Random work/study students use the desks now and again, but that's it. Lo and behold: a part-time guy shows up yesterday, and he’ll be here a couple of days a week. I'm not entirely sure what his job is - he doesn't work in my division - but he's quite the interesting fellow. I'm going to bet he's in his early 60s. First of all, he sat over there from about 1pm onward until I left...and didn't say a word. The woman who was showing him the ropes got him to talk a little, but not a lot. Primary reason: he doesn't seem to speak a lot of english. Going geographically by accent, I’ll call him Boris. I'm not even going to try to spell the last name. The most interesting part about him: the cologne. Good lord, he smells like...well, like I think those guys from “A Night at the Roxbury” must smell. He smells like a high school kid who just figured out what Axe Body Spray is. Over. The. Top. AND I'm pretty sure he freshened it up a bit some time during the late afternoon. Ewww. This morning: he’s back! As strong as ever.

El Presidente

7:30am this morning. I had something to drop off for signature in the Administration Building of the University where I work.
Ride up in the elevator to the Executive Floor...lights off everywhere except for the President's Office. Not unusual, but I did scoff a little...
I go to the office next door to the President and shove my envelope under the door...and who pops his head out to see who's there?? Our President.
"Wow! Hey, Dr. _____, I didn't expect to see you here. How's it going?"
(He doesn't know me from joe. He has no reason to. I mean, he knows he's seen me, and I've been to his home for various events, and he knows in some way I'm some vice president's assistant, but he doesn't exactly know me by name.)
He's a congenial fellow, though, so of course he says, "Good morning. How are you?" "Fine," I say, "Why are we the only two people working on this campus at this hour?" He says - and this just makes me laugh: "Well...SOMEbody's gotta run the place!" "Yes, sir...and I'm glad it's YOU." Hilarious.
I've repeated my story about five times today and no one finds it as funny as I do. Go figure.

B of A pisses me off

There, I've said it. I have been a B of A customer since, oh, let's say, the early 90's. Clark Howard has complained about them for years, but here's my gripe: their ATM cards BLOW. I can't tell you the number of times I have been asked to swipe, re-swipe, and triple-swipe my card. It happens at ATM's, the grocery store, random vendors...it doesn't matter. I end up having to use another card - which doesn't do B of A any good - and when I rush home and look up my balance (though I know there is money to cover my purchase) I freak out until I see that indeed I have plenty of money to cover.
I don't keep my cards piled on top of one another so that they wipe out the magnetic strip...and even if that was true, other cards are fine. Ridiculous.
Maybe B of A doesn't piss me off, maybe plastic does. ...or magnets do.

It's good to be back...complaining to no one.

Where'd that girl go, anyway?

Yeah...mid-October I'll have more time to write. Seriously, though.

Shut Yer Yap

There's a woman who works in my building who is exactly - to the day - one month older than I am. We are in our late 30's. Honest to god, this woman has more aches and pains, trouble, and assorted randomness in-general than anyone else I know.

I get to work typically 1 to 1-1/2 hours before her, partially for the better commute, but partially because I know that I can crank out a ton of work before she arrives. That way, when she gets here, I have the time to listen to the verbal diarrhea that will become Issue of the Day.

Her physical pain I COULD understand and sympathize with...if it wasn't for the constance of complaint. After a while...suck it up and deal...or stay home and whine there. The other stuff is, to me, truly odd. I'll call it: empathy by proxy.

Hypothetically, let's just say that one morning there's a plane crash in Bangladesh. News of the crash is all over the radio/TV/internet. This woman will more than likely come in the office telling me how sad she is about it and how sick she feels about it, her stomach is upset, and she can't even function, feeling sorry for those poor people and their families.

I'm sorry, do WHAT, now?? Is she from Bangladesh? Does she have family in Bangladesh? Does she have friends or co-workers traveling in the area? A giant, resounding NO to all of the above. ...and she's serious. She'll chat with her folks or her sister or some friend about it on the phone for a while (oh, and me, in person, for longer than I care to). For real. I pray, on a regular basis, for her to have sick days or vacation time.

Please, please make it stop.