Exquisite.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
You know I'm open-minded about shoes, but...
...this pair is beyond the pale. The MBT "Lami" Mary Jane Walking Shoe is beneath beastly. 
From the ad:
Single hook-and-loop strap secures a sporty mary jane walking shoe outfitted with a patented Masai Sensor sole that has a soft surface similar to walking on a sandy beach. The natural instability this creates activates the supporting muscle system and conditions the body simply by walking. With continued wear, benefits can include improved circulation and posture; reduced stress and pressure on the back, feet and joints; and an overall toned appearance.
Last time I checked, instability was not desirable in shoes -- sprains and breaks and whatnot. Ew. I mean, this is a perfect shoe if you're a Power Puff Girl Otherwise, not so much.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
...and the horse they rode in on...
Several weeks back I had a job interview for a position I really wanted. I walked into the office and immediately liked the environment. All the folks there seemed nice and friendly with the exception of the unfortunate creature on the phone who gave me the stinkeye, and it seemed like a place I could feel at home. Ya can't win 'em all, right?
At first in the interview, I spoke with two women. They seemed pleased with me, and I felt very comfortable. I started thinking this was going very well. They asked me to stay there and then the women left the room. A couple minutes later, the director came back and said that they were going to re-interview the top three candidates and that since I was there, they'd go ahead and re-interview me then, that I was in the top 3 of the 11 interviewed. Naturally, I was pleased. Three more panelists came in to ask me more questions. Some of my answers were recapitulations of earlier answers, and again, I felt comfortable and that I was holding my own.
The job would involve marketing and promotional work, albeit in an industry completely different from my own. I do a lot of event planning and promotional and advertising type tasks, so it seemed to me this would not be that much of a stretch. Clearly they liked me, I liked them, and this seemed a good fit. I started really feeling they would choose me.
The second group of panelists left me alone with the director again, and she asked if I had any further questions. I said I felt we'd covered my questions, and then she began talking, sort of riffing to perhaps fill the time. She said this would be the first time she alone had trained someone for this position and that she was concerned about how it would go. IF the wheels fell off at all in this process, THIS is where it happened: I said "I'm composing a procedures manual for the person who will follow me in my current position, and if you'd like, if I'm in this marketing position, I can compose the procedures documents as we go along."
*cue record scratch*
Came the response "oh, we have a procedures manual," and I think she may have taken umbrage at my suggestion.
Y'see, if I were hiring someone, I would take such an offer as the mark of someone interested in using their time and skills to help others to do an equally good job. I would see that as a mark of initiative and intelligence. I would want that person working in my organization.
She went on to say another person who'd been hired once wrote a computer program to enter and maintain their filing system, but that they had always used a paper system devised by the company's founder, and that they were not interested in changing their system, thank you very much. *cautionary tale, much?*
She said they'd make the decision in about 4 days. This was a Thursday. On Monday, I called Fraulein Direktor and thanked her for the opportunity to interview and expressing my continued interest in the position. She bluntly told me they'd filled the position. I thanked her and hung up the phone. A few minutes later in my mailbox, I found a poorly written form letter [Dear Applicant - seriously - it said Dear Applicant] which had been mailed to me on Friday, the day after the interview. The letter contained a list of bullet points, any one or combination of which may have been the reason the job was not extended to me. Criminal History? SRSLY? Lack of References? Untrue. Why could they not simply say someone else was more appropriate to the task rather than imply that it was in some way unseemly or vulgar for me to have aspired to this position?
Anyway, for the past few weeks I have puzzled over this turn of events, and felt a little sad not to have gotten that job despite the horribly gauche rejection letter. Then Wednesday night I talked to a dear friend on the phone and she expressed horror that I should lament not being chosen for the job. Well, I hadn't thought of it that way. She said how patently ridiculous it was that this company so stalwartly refused to simplify their lives by utilizing computers for their record keeping. She said they were obviously morons for not desperately clutching at the opportunity to have a diamond like me on their staff. Srsly.
This sort of turned my thinking around - I'm smart, capable and damned handy to have around-- what's wrong with them if they don't recognize this? Moreover, the director rattling on at the end of the interview about her own insecurities with regard to training did not bode well for her degree of organization. Perhaps my statement of confidence with regard to organization was intimidating.
After all, I never told her her job would be safe after I arrived. Oh well.
At first in the interview, I spoke with two women. They seemed pleased with me, and I felt very comfortable. I started thinking this was going very well. They asked me to stay there and then the women left the room. A couple minutes later, the director came back and said that they were going to re-interview the top three candidates and that since I was there, they'd go ahead and re-interview me then, that I was in the top 3 of the 11 interviewed. Naturally, I was pleased. Three more panelists came in to ask me more questions. Some of my answers were recapitulations of earlier answers, and again, I felt comfortable and that I was holding my own.
The job would involve marketing and promotional work, albeit in an industry completely different from my own. I do a lot of event planning and promotional and advertising type tasks, so it seemed to me this would not be that much of a stretch. Clearly they liked me, I liked them, and this seemed a good fit. I started really feeling they would choose me.
The second group of panelists left me alone with the director again, and she asked if I had any further questions. I said I felt we'd covered my questions, and then she began talking, sort of riffing to perhaps fill the time. She said this would be the first time she alone had trained someone for this position and that she was concerned about how it would go. IF the wheels fell off at all in this process, THIS is where it happened: I said "I'm composing a procedures manual for the person who will follow me in my current position, and if you'd like, if I'm in this marketing position, I can compose the procedures documents as we go along."
*cue record scratch*
Came the response "oh, we have a procedures manual," and I think she may have taken umbrage at my suggestion.
Y'see, if I were hiring someone, I would take such an offer as the mark of someone interested in using their time and skills to help others to do an equally good job. I would see that as a mark of initiative and intelligence. I would want that person working in my organization.
She went on to say another person who'd been hired once wrote a computer program to enter and maintain their filing system, but that they had always used a paper system devised by the company's founder, and that they were not interested in changing their system, thank you very much. *cautionary tale, much?*
She said they'd make the decision in about 4 days. This was a Thursday. On Monday, I called Fraulein Direktor and thanked her for the opportunity to interview and expressing my continued interest in the position. She bluntly told me they'd filled the position. I thanked her and hung up the phone. A few minutes later in my mailbox, I found a poorly written form letter [Dear Applicant - seriously - it said Dear Applicant] which had been mailed to me on Friday, the day after the interview. The letter contained a list of bullet points, any one or combination of which may have been the reason the job was not extended to me. Criminal History? SRSLY? Lack of References? Untrue. Why could they not simply say someone else was more appropriate to the task rather than imply that it was in some way unseemly or vulgar for me to have aspired to this position?
Anyway, for the past few weeks I have puzzled over this turn of events, and felt a little sad not to have gotten that job despite the horribly gauche rejection letter. Then Wednesday night I talked to a dear friend on the phone and she expressed horror that I should lament not being chosen for the job. Well, I hadn't thought of it that way. She said how patently ridiculous it was that this company so stalwartly refused to simplify their lives by utilizing computers for their record keeping. She said they were obviously morons for not desperately clutching at the opportunity to have a diamond like me on their staff. Srsly.
This sort of turned my thinking around - I'm smart, capable and damned handy to have around-- what's wrong with them if they don't recognize this? Moreover, the director rattling on at the end of the interview about her own insecurities with regard to training did not bode well for her degree of organization. Perhaps my statement of confidence with regard to organization was intimidating.
After all, I never told her her job would be safe after I arrived. Oh well.
Louis CK - Everything is amazing right now, and nobody's happy...
This video is unbelievably funny, but can't be embedded, so you'll have to hop over there to watch it.
Flying is the worst, because people come back from their flights and they tell you their story, and it's a horror story. They act like their flight was a cattle car in Germany in the '40s-- that's how bad they make it sound... Really? Did you partake in the miracle of flight, you non-contributing zero? You're FLYING! It's amazing!Everybody on every plane should just constantly be going "omigawd! WOW!" You're sitting in a chair in the sky.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Bad Kitty Stories
Mary and my mom went to school together, and they've remained friends lo these many years. Sometime along about 15 or so years ago, Mom and Dad went to California and paid a call on Mary. Mary had a cat named Magic, and Dad told me she'd said not to pet Magic. Magic wrapped herself around Dad's ankle, and he thought she must have taken a shine to him. He reached down to pet her, and she did her best to unglove Dad's mitt. Not cool, kitty.
A couple years ago, I went with Mom to visit Mary on her farm in Arkansas. Whaddayaknow if Magic wasn't still alive and kicking? And maiming. And mayhemming and hawing. Mom had warned me about that cat. Magic sat across the room and glowered. Magic made me very uncomfortable, but after a while, I sort of forgot she was there. I reached down at one point to tie my shoe and barreling across the wide open carpet came a bristling furball tipped with poison-tipped fleschettes in the form of one Magic. Damned cat. It's probably still alive, too, being too mean to die...
Someone I used to know had an evil female cat named Rascal. Rascal was known for eviscerating hapless visitors to the home with disembowelment skills to rival those of a sloth. Rascal was apparently bonded to one person only, and everyone else was fair game. You might have guessed Rascal was free to terrorize nature indoors and out. One day Rascal's person was big&pregnant&muy hormonal when some crazy bitch came to her door with the remains of Rascal plastered over the inside of a clear plastic bag, having found Rascal in the road. The woman said "Is this your cat?" Who says there aren't good neighbors around these days???
A couple years ago, I went with Mom to visit Mary on her farm in Arkansas. Whaddayaknow if Magic wasn't still alive and kicking? And maiming. And mayhemming and hawing. Mom had warned me about that cat. Magic sat across the room and glowered. Magic made me very uncomfortable, but after a while, I sort of forgot she was there. I reached down at one point to tie my shoe and barreling across the wide open carpet came a bristling furball tipped with poison-tipped fleschettes in the form of one Magic. Damned cat. It's probably still alive, too, being too mean to die...
Someone I used to know had an evil female cat named Rascal. Rascal was known for eviscerating hapless visitors to the home with disembowelment skills to rival those of a sloth. Rascal was apparently bonded to one person only, and everyone else was fair game. You might have guessed Rascal was free to terrorize nature indoors and out. One day Rascal's person was big&pregnant&muy hormonal when some crazy bitch came to her door with the remains of Rascal plastered over the inside of a clear plastic bag, having found Rascal in the road. The woman said "Is this your cat?" Who says there aren't good neighbors around these days???
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
my nerdy little secret...
Yeah, I know I've mentioned it before, but I track my currency at WheresGeorge.
Yes, it's the geekiest thing I do(I hope!). I joined about a year and a half ago, and just yesterday I received the 1000th hit on one of my bills. I've registered 15,410 bills with a combined value of $70,708. There are a little over 50,000 people in the USA actively tracking their currency at WG. I'm in the top 100 Texas trackers. woohoo!
See? I told you it was geeky.
There are some WGers who have registered more than a million individual bills so if you think _I_ am obsessive, well, I'm chump change. Srsly. It's interesting to see where your money goes, and in some cases, how quickly. If I travel, I always try to get a couple straps of ones from the bank and register them to disperse along my path. Yes, this means spending them-- not just throwing them out the window of the hot air balloon.
Monday, February 23, 2009
We will sell our lives dearly...
On this day in 1836, Santa Anna arrived in San Antonio and began his siege upon the Texian forces garrisoned at the Alamo.
I remember the first time I set foot in the Alamo about 21 years ago. The place seemed almost too small for the import of what had taken place there. It certainly seems too peaceful. Yet the words and deeds of these men of great mettle will reverberate like ripples on the surface of a pond for the remainder of the days of our civilization. Today I consider this, and I hope you will, too.
William Travis was Lt. Col. of the Texian forces and commander of the Republic of Texas forces, and was 26 when he died at the Alamo.
From Wikipedia:
I remember the first time I set foot in the Alamo about 21 years ago. The place seemed almost too small for the import of what had taken place there. It certainly seems too peaceful. Yet the words and deeds of these men of great mettle will reverberate like ripples on the surface of a pond for the remainder of the days of our civilization. Today I consider this, and I hope you will, too.
William Travis was Lt. Col. of the Texian forces and commander of the Republic of Texas forces, and was 26 when he died at the Alamo.
From Wikipedia:
There is a legend that, one to three days before the final Mexican assault, Travis gathered all of the Alamo's defenders in the main plaza of the fort. Announcing that reinforcements would not be forthcoming, Travis unsheathed his sword and drew a line in the dirt. He then told those men who were willing to stay and die with him to cross the line; those who wanted to leave could do so without shame. Most of the Alamo's defenders subsequently crossed the line, leaving only two men behind. One soldier, Bowie, was confined to a cot with typhoid, but asked to be carried across the line. The other was a French veteran of the Napoleonic Wars named Moses Rose. Rose, who later declared, "By God, I wasn't ready to die," scaled a wall that night and escaped, thus preserving the story of Travis's line in the sand. This account was told by Rose to numerous people later in his life.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Sunday, Puppy Sunday 22 Feb
Again, I couldn't stop at just one. Freakishly, I managed to get the good camera out before they got up and came over to wallow me to death.
Scamps.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
mm-mm, shooty goodness!
Keys? Check. Chanel shades? Check. Pink cell phone? Check. Kickarse Econo Scout? Check check! Sort of last minute, I didn't go out of town as expected for the weekend which left me to knock about on my F
riday off. JR of A Keyboard and a .45 graciously invited me to shoot at a range I'd been longing to check out, and I asked if I could put in some time practicing my shotgun. He said yes and so we were off to the races. This range is a neat place, and though I sing the praises of my pistol club every chance I get, I relished the opportunity to blow the cobwebs out of something larger than pistol-size.JR's Ruger Standard was sweet to shoot, and I think I shot better with it than do I with my MkII, but I'm still getting used to that one. I shot my Mossberg until I felt more comfortable with it, and I think I'm realms beyond where I was with it at first last June. Lately I've been going to batting cages and hitting softballs, and I think improved upper-body strength makes a huge difference in my comfort level with the shotgun. Besides, it's always a good idea to keep a ball bat in the car, imho. Bonus: now I know how to whack the snot out of something with one, too.
Anyway, the afternoon was beautiful and just when it seemed the shooty goodness couldn't get much better, we moved over to a 200 yard range and JR brought out his Savage Econo Scout. I've never shot beyond 115 yards, so the long range was a treat, but the Econo Scout alone was worth the drive. When the gong clanged back at me an instant after I fired the first shot, I was in transports of rapture, oh my darlings. Fun is not a big enough word. I think more than one *squeee!* escaped my lips, and at least one yee-haw.
Thanks, JR! I had a blast. Several blasts, in fact.
WOOHOO!
Friday, February 20, 2009
ah, shoes!
Feline Art Shoe 
The tail says cat, but the nose is doggie to me.
*shoe a day calendar Workman Publishing New York
The tail says cat, but the nose is doggie to me.
*shoe a day calendar Workman Publishing New York
There are things I'd rather not know...
The nature of the job means I often learn things about people I would prefer to not know. Sometimes they'll come to my office and spill their guts, and other times, I see a story unfold from the windows of my fishbowl office. Drips and drabs of information float in unbidden, and there's no un-learning of oogy details. Of course, it's unavoidable that I should know certain personal details, but I'd prefer to not be privileged with information which in no way helps me to do my job or to assist them.
[I wrote a great wobbler of an exposition, here, but decided it was distasteful to post even bereft of particulars as it was]
I have a great many residents who are just decent, stand-up folks, and then there are a few who have the same problems over and over and over. I could tell them each in 100 words or less what they need to do to fix their lives permanently, but only they can change the way they live.
I remember a movie where a character referred to someone as a Monet, saying they looked pretty from a distance, but up close they were a big old mess. We're all human. We all have our little screw-ups, but we should have the decency to not make others uncomfortable with excessive information of our failings. Discretion is the better part of valour.
Or is it indiscreet of me to say so?
[I wrote a great wobbler of an exposition, here, but decided it was distasteful to post even bereft of particulars as it was]
I have a great many residents who are just decent, stand-up folks, and then there are a few who have the same problems over and over and over. I could tell them each in 100 words or less what they need to do to fix their lives permanently, but only they can change the way they live.
I remember a movie where a character referred to someone as a Monet, saying they looked pretty from a distance, but up close they were a big old mess. We're all human. We all have our little screw-ups, but we should have the decency to not make others uncomfortable with excessive information of our failings. Discretion is the better part of valour.
Or is it indiscreet of me to say so?
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Wow. CNBC gets it right...
Watch here now.
Color me dumbfounded.
h/t to Swamp Rabbit
Hee. Just heard a clip from this on Rush Limbaugh. Even RL listens to Rabbit.
Color me dumbfounded.
h/t to Swamp Rabbit
Hee. Just heard a clip from this on Rush Limbaugh. Even RL listens to Rabbit.
*dim bulb moment*
I never really listened to the lyrics of Rum and Coca Cola, but isn't there something bizarrely incongrous about the über-wholesome Andrews Sisters singing about booze and prostitution? Maybe that's why I never noticed before that song was about, well, booze and prostitution... Well, booze, maybe.
NOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!
No!
No!
Say it ain't so...
It was mere moments ago in a flouish of avenger eyes and his catlike ways he craned down from the stage and braced his hand on my shoulder, leaning out to sing to the crowd at the Gypsy Tea Room. Good times hanging out by the stage with Tracy and RocketGrrl in my hologram platform silver oxfords. I was one of the tame attendees.
Crap.
Lux Interior is dead.
Viva The Cramps.
Crap.
Here's to the B-movie fake-leopard splendourous ghoulrock of the Cramps with the killer guitar of Poison Ivy and otherworldly frontman Lux Interior.
No!
Say it ain't so...
It was mere moments ago in a flouish of avenger eyes and his catlike ways he craned down from the stage and braced his hand on my shoulder, leaning out to sing to the crowd at the Gypsy Tea Room. Good times hanging out by the stage with Tracy and RocketGrrl in my hologram platform silver oxfords. I was one of the tame attendees.
Crap.
Lux Interior is dead.
Viva The Cramps.
Crap.
Here's to the B-movie fake-leopard splendourous ghoulrock of the Cramps with the killer guitar of Poison Ivy and otherworldly frontman Lux Interior.
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