I am honored and humbled...

...to see a pair of earrings I made in a photo Brigid took for her post on Storing Valuable Things.

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Oh, and here's my disco mirror skull and the squid and anchovy snack treats from my cube. My co-workers politely declined my offer of baked squid product snacks-- they perhaps did not wish to appear too greedy.

Dullards.

Mostly, I'm a good little veal...

...but today my cube is decorated for the season, and when I get to work, I'll put out my be-glittered skull. I denuded the desk of the usual flotsam and jetsam, but there remains a few post-its. Post-its of death! Cube of terror!

Alas, poor Yorrick!

Halloweeny. Good times. Tried on my wig last night, and it looks plenty hot.

Ah ah a-ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

More to follow.

Stuff we love but can't afford...™

The exquisite jewelry of Turk Sevan Bicakci has ever been droolworthy. All one-of-a-kinds, his lapidary work is nothing short of astonishing, with intricate carvings from the underside, as pictured below.

A handful of his pieces are available at Barneys New York.

what to wear?

I have somehow been roped into being a goth marionette along with the women in the two neighboring cubes. What do you think of the black lipstick mixed with Dior's liquid vinyl? Comment from the peanut gallery was "very Elvira." Friday is dress-up day. This is the first time in many years I've felt remotely inclined to dress for Halloween. Should be fun.

I'm still sort of toying with the ideer of doing geisha-style make up with those wee funny lips, though. Then again, I wear red lips every day. I figure it's not often one can really get away with black lips. Why not? But they def. need a dose of red in the mix...

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my favorite Pratchett quote of the moment:

Mr. Horsefry was a youngish man, not simply running to fat, but vaulting, leaping, and diving toward obesity. He had acquired, at thirty, an impressive selection of chins, and now they wobbled with angry pride.

I can't stop giggling at this. :)

He balled his tiny fists and shook them impotently skyward.

A place I used to work operated more like a dysfunctional family than a workplace.

I had a bit of autonomy and played SWMBO in the main, so I shrugged off a lot of boobery on the part of certain other folk with whom it was my lot to work. Some things were more easily shrugged off than others.

The company owner was a fit-thrower. Things could be rather random, actually, and he didn't rave frequently or I would have hied me elsewhere for a paycheck. Still, when he clouded over, he could be a right nasty piece of work. Such events were infrequent enough and he wisely never ranted at me in my presence, so, whatever.

One day, though, he threw a right strop. Incandescent with rage, he spat and cursed from the other room. Generally, I'd leave him to it, but this day he fumed and ranted and raved on in a not-so gentle crescendo of vitriol which peaked fairly spectacularly in a resounding kick to a perfectly innocent by-standing filing cabinet. When I think of that day, I always imagine him balling up his tiny fists and shaking them skyward, awash on crashing waves of the cruelest of fates-- something in the world he could not fold, spindle or manipulate to bend to his megalomaniacal will. What could it be?

As I said, my custom is to not give attention to fit throwers. While they may richly deserve a proper beating, mine is not the place in the universe to dispense justice-- woe betide them if I were... However, this day, the doo-doo hissy was protracted to such degree as would not be ignored. My phone calls were being interrupted. Business-- dysfunctional or no-- would not be conducted as per usual. Something™ had to be done.

I resolutely marched into his office and said "may I help you?"

Pointing at his laptop screen, he muttered and grumbled that he couldn't get "that damned thing to go away."

I looked at the screen and saw a perfectly innocent little paperclip looking out eagerly, innocently blinking and longing to be of assistance. I'd never even seen the damned thing before, and I poked around for about 30 seconds and got it turned off. "There you go" I said and flounced out of his office and back to work, never missing a beat.

heh.

heheeheeheeeheeeheee

*much wicked laughter*

bwahahahahahahahaha!!!

It was yet another of those moments when I had to dig my nails into my palms and contemplate dead puppies and the ripping-out of nosehairs to govern my giggle urge.

He'd finally found something more obtuse, bull-headed and senseless than himself-- a match made in heaven.

Somewhere in a pixel-bar, there's a little paperclip ragging on him...

Imogen's Coming To Town...

November 17 Immi'll be playing the Granada Theatre on Lower Greenville in Dallas. I've got my ticket already. *JOY!* To top that off, I'll have two of my favorite people on the planet with me in the form of my sister and my niece. Sis and I have always both been music enthusiasts and have attended many concerts together, and this will be the first time niece is joining us. Fortunately, this show is age 10 and up, so it should be a pretty mild crowd.

Considering the ethereal musicality of Imogen's previous shows (I saw her in Dallas and in Austin last time 2 years ago nearly to the day), I expect this will be a grand occasion. At the Dallas show on the SMU campus last time, she had difficulties with the computer equipment through which most of her music is sampled and sequenced. Her banter to the audience at that time was utterly charming. I kept expecting her to turn around from the computer or the piano with a tray of mis-matched teacups, trying to make sure everyone was having a lovely time. We all did. :)

Here's a link to her North American tour dates with ticket information. Go see Imogen Heap if humanly possible.

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: intruder alert.

Praline was very wound-up and fretsome over an intruder last weekend. I had to pop into the back yard to see what had her so agitated.

The wind was blowing and its helium had not quite gone all off, so this mylar balloon bobbed gently at the base of the fence, taunting one Jack Rascal. Both pups were leery of the balloon, but while Praline barked her brains out, Chuy growled steadily. When they finally got hold of the balloon, they mercifully dispatched the poor thing forthwith, not prolonging the suffering, and all.

After the initial deflation, I got the balloon and string away from them so they wouldn't choke, but for a few minutes it was wild times. It's nice how dogs remind us to see the excitement in banal and silly things. Bless 'em!

...set a course for adventure...

So Thursday a dear companion was under the weather and I happened into a coworker at the local grocers'. She invited me over for dinner with she and several others, and I accepted.

I had a lovely time, but little did I know as I left her place that the best was yet to come.

Her place was a goodly distance from my house, and I set out from there, following the instructions to turn left, even though right felt the proper way to go. Soon I was driving down a lonely Texas highway in the dark of night, chatting on the phone to my dad about evasive driving should feral hogs cross my path. Suddenly the signal dropped and I was alone in the dark with about a hundred miles of open range to the west and to the east the middling city's lights reflected on low clouds.

This was the most desolate moment since I've been out here. I thought of nights driving through Dallas and feeling like I owned it, slick and new and concrete, and sparkling with diamond lights.

This night I felt like desolate west Texas owned me, instead, with its spotty blessings of dropped signals and wild bacon on the trotter.

Lucky me.

...in which we unravel the mystery of what really happens at slumber parties...

Coordinated dresses!
Tambourines!
Squiffy Hairdos!
Bongos!
Polyester on polyester!
The shaking of cans!

Read about Madeleine Albright's strategic brooch deployments

Did you know Ms. Albright has a new book out on her clever use of brooches to make pointed statements in the international arena?

*nodding*

From the review on Amazon:

It would never have happened if not for Saddam Hussein. When U.S. ambassador to the United Nations Madeleine Albright criticized the dictator, his poet in residence responded by calling her "an unparalleled serpent." Shortly thereafter, while preparing to meet with Iraqi officials, Albright pondered: What to wear? She decided to make a diplomatic statement by choosing a snake pin. Although her method of communication was new, her message was as old as the American Revolution—Don't Tread on Me.

What??? Hussein was a dictator? Who knew?
If Condi Rice wrote one on footwear, well, I might bite, but methinks this one's a bit of a stretch.

Hummingbird situational awareness...

This is amazingly cute. It goes to 11, in fact. I was watching how the hummingbird looks around more time than it spends slurping up the nectar. Then I thought again-- he finally lights on the palm of a big monser! EWWWW! Scary!

Courtesy Flush and other housekeeping notes.

I may have mentioned at some point that I'm working in Customer Service these days.

That's right. From the minute I hit the old time clock until that last second of the day, I'm straining doorward at the end of my phone-tether, professional palaver maven. I service members all day long.

Thank you. I'll be here all week.

I understand my role and in a lot of ways I enjoy what I'm doing. I'm a fixer. I enjoy solving puzzles, and I find it tremendously gratifying to make things right for folks. However, if folks are calling in to customer service lines, there are a few things they can do to help me do my job.

Squalling infants in the background: You may be baffled to know that the poo-flinging dauphin wot sprang from your loins is ear-piercing over a phone line. I can't solve your problem if your voice is a mere whisper behind the 80 decibel wall of cacophony your child is orchestrating. Please please pretty please put a cork in it before you call, mkay?

We're talking and I'm focusing on your issue. I take this very seriously. Hearing your jeans unzip plays havoc with my ability to concentrate on resolving issues. Trying to keep the laughter out of my voice against the backdrop of your clattering urine reporting around a tiled room is, well, it's just embarrassing. And THEN you flush. Well, makes sense-- it's not as if you would like to discreetly hide what you were doing. How about a courtesy not-flush in this case? At least I could pretend you were folding laundry and then washed your hands in a sink? Help me with my fantasy, okay?

Loud tv/video game/electronic equipment in the background: would you mind terribly powering down the table saw before you call? I really want to help. Help me help you.

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Chuy's paw prints came off the wall mostly with a wet warsh cloth. The other little bit was easily touched up.

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I'm prolly moving into my new bedroom this week, depending. WOOHOO!

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Thank you, LawDog, for swiping at bugs with the hand-held bugzapper over my dinner plate. What's a little extra protein and fibre among friends, eh? ;)

...and speaking of puppies...

These are lovely puppies.

These little boots are calling to my inner steampunkette.

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: These are not the paw prints you're looking for.

Absolutely not.

I would never smear muddy paws on your freshly painted wall.

Who would do such a thing?

I'm too sweet and innocent and intense and sincere. See my wrinkles? Innocent!

Honestly, I can't think of a single person who would do something so thoughtless and careless.

Well, maybe Praline would, but I would never.