19 out of 50. Do you still love me?

When I did the second half of my sixteen hour day on Friday, there were some tile layers just finishing up a repair job... just outside the door to my office. They said nobody could go on the tiles until about 2300 (I came on at 1600).

Okay, no problem.

After they left, and a couple of hours had gone by, the Romanian guy appeared to start his shift. I mentioned how I couldn't go in my office and showed him why.

And that's when we both noticed what a shit-poor job the tile guys had done. Tiles tilted, tiles not evenly spaced, discoloured tiles... ah well, noted in the report and forgotten about.

I didn't go on for my entire shift. And I told the guy who relieved me not to go on them for HIS entire shift either. ;)

That's the guy that wouldn't answer the phone that I mentioned in the previous entry, btw. Ha ha, he had to sit in the cafeteria! AND he couldn't lock a door that required turning a key. HA! :P

So that means that those tiles had seven extra hours of being left alone.

So what did I hear when I came on shift last night from the Sleeper?

"Those tile guys wanted to know your full name, because they said that you walked all over the tiles and made them lift and shift." Buzzah? "They were really mad."

Yeah, I'd be mad too if I did a shitty job and my only hope was to blame it on some guy with a polyester uniform. Jackasses.

Also in the realm of slap-in-the-face irritation, when I came on for that 1600 shift, my S/S asked if I was taking time off in a week or so. I said no, and he said that he didn't think so, but the woman in charge of scheduling had called and asked. So he called her back on the spot and confirmed that I was not, in fact, taking off time in a week.

Then last night, as I looked at the freshly printed schedule, I see that I'm not on it for the shift I was currently working, and the following three days. Well fuck me running.

These are actually the days that I asked to have off 2.5 months ago, but found out that I couldn't have them off not that long ago. Company policy is three months notice to take vacation time, btw. I knew I was applying with less notice than that, but whatever.

So I called in to Operations (because also my radio didn't seem to be receiving) and found out that I am, in fact, scheduled to be there.

All of this made me grumpy, and I'm inflicting that on you in the form of this rambling. Take that!

One of the bike patrol guys from the other company just successfully completed his road test and air brake test to qualify him to be a trucker. He figures he can make more money doing that (not at first he can't, since he has no experience and so he doesn't get the good money) and he's right, and he'll stay in security to pick up shifts on his days off.

Anyway, he was telling me about one of those extra shifts he took the other week. It seems he was working at the international airport (lots of different security companies have contracts there to be present at various places). He was paired up with a nineteen year old kid that didn't have a lot of experience. First day at that site, first day with the company, and first day ever working security. The airport was not the place for him. :P

But there was another nineteen year old there that I wanted to mention.

You see, he used to work for my company. At a college with another nineteen year old as his partner, and their twenty two year old supervisor. And the three of them used to drink while they were on the job.

One day one of our roving Field Managers came by and smelled the booze. He told them that they know they can't be drinking on the job, and they replied that they'd had to handle some bum that threw his drink at them.

The F/M wasn't fooled, and wrote them up. They continued the practice of drinking while at work.

Then one day there was a butt or can collector at the site. He was apparently just doing his thing, and one of these guys accosted him. They told him "Get the fuck out of here!", and the guy (understandably) said "Fuck you."

So the guard jumped him, while calling his partner over to help. Which he did, as they both pulled out their flashlights and beat this guy down. I kid you not.

A supervisor or F/M or something happened to be nearby and jumped over a fence and put a stop to it. "He tried to assault us, we were defending ourselves!" said the two guards.

Too bad for them there was a camera recording the entire thing. My company fired them, and rightly so.

And now they work for the other company and are keeping the airport safe. Isn't that a wonderful story?

To lighten the mood (before I bring it back down again), my buddy Tursi posted a list of the supposed top 50 worst songs of all time. The idea is to copy the list and bold the ones you like. So here it is, along with comments:

1. We Built This City ... Starship
2. Achy Breaky Heart ... Billy Ray Cyrus I don't even like the Weird Al parody of this song, and I'm a dude that's been to see Al in concert twice.
3. Everybody Have Fun Tonight ... Wang Chung Do you remember the video for this? At the time, everything was "the first time". So the vibro-alternating-frame makeup of this video was unforgettable. As was the tune - what is the entymology of "wang chung" anyway?
4. Rollin' ... Limp Bizkit One of my nieces bought this (well, I bought it for her at her request since she was too young to buy it herself) when it was contemporary and there were three versions of this song on there. The regular one, and two remixes. I liked one of the remixes.
5. Ice Ice Baby ... Vanilla Ice I was doing my time in exile way up in a northern town when this became popular. I'd heard it maybe half a dozen times before I came down to Vancouver for Christmas. There I hooked up with my old friends, and one of them had an entire tape made up of nothing but this song, over and over again. Yes it got tedious, but I enjoyed myself so much then and this song was a part of it.
6. The Heart of Rock & Roll ... Huey Lewis and the News
7. Don't Worry, Be Happy ... Bobby McFerrin You know, a lot of people bash this song, but it's not because it sucks. It's because every third song that was played on any station was this one. The entire thing is done with voice, no actual instruments. It was an incredible song when it came out, and most people thought so. That's also why it received so much (over)play. But of course overplay led to getting sick of it, and that's probably why it's on this list.
8. Party All the Time ... Eddie Murphy When I was in grade eight, I was pretty miserable. When my birthday in December came around I received an AD&D book (Unearthed Arcana) and got to go to a movie with my family. I chose 'Golden Child' (starring Eddie Murphy), and read about the new magical weapons in the book by the passing orange light of streetlamps on that rainy night, while this song came on the radio. Truly one of times during that hellish year that I was actually happy.
9. American Life ... Madonna
10. Ebony and Ivory ... Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder
11. Invisible ... Clay Aiken
12. Kokomo ... The Beach Boys
13. Illegal Alien ... Genesis
14. From a Distance ... Bette Midler
15. I'll Be There for You ... The Rembrandts
16. What's Up? ... 4 Non Blondes
17. Pumps and a Bump ... Hammer
18. You're the Inspiration ... Chicago
19. Broken Wings ... Mr. Mister
20. Dancing on the Ceiling ... Lionel Richie
21. Two Princes ... Spin Doctors
22. Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue (The Angry American) ... Toby Keith
23. Sunglasses at Night ... Corey Hart Before Much Music launched in Canada (or at least before we had it where I lived) there was the channel that nowadays is the tv listing. But that's not what it was then - it was some sort of advertisment channel that would show odd little bits of content. The 'Tears Are Not Enough' song played on it, and I duly taped it. So did 'Sunglasses at Night' and I taped that too. And I played them over and over again. After all, that's what normal teenagers did - watch videos. Right? Right?! Okay, I was a loser and didn't know any better. This was also one of the first two cassette tapes I ever got, the other being the Brian Adams one that was out at the same time.
24. Superman ... Five for Fighting
25. I'll Be Missing You ... Puff Daddy featuring Faith Evans and 112
26. The End ... The Doors
27. The Final Countdown ... Europe Hey, it sounds like they've got a big band backing them! My brother actually owned this on a vinyl record.
28. Your Body Is a Wonderland ... John Mayer
29. Breakfast at Tiffany's ... Deep Blue Something At the time, I thought this was an interestingly non-standard type song.
30. Greatest Love of All ... Whitney Houston
31. Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm ... Crash Test Dummies I don't care what anybody says - the song was different that the usual prattle that played, actually made you think about those nasty situations, and that singer's voice was amazing
32. Will 2K ... Will Smith
33. Barbie Girl ... Aqua Yeah, I liked it. Probably you did too, at first. I bought the album even. It might have been the first cd I bought after I lost all of my cds.
34. Longer ... Dan Fogelberg
35. Shiny Happy People ... R.E.M.
36. Make Em Say Uhh! ... Master P featuring Silkk, Fiend, Mia-X and Mystikal I still love this song, especially after Mia-X sings and you get to hear the gravelly stylings of the Tom Waites of rap. :)
37. Rico Suave ... Gerardo
38. Cotton Eyed Joe ... Rednex
39. She Bangs ... Ricky Martin
40. I Wanna Sex You Up ... Color Me Badd
41. We Didn't Start the Fire ... Billy Joel This was another amazing song. I'll bet everybody who heard this song learned something about the preceding decades that they didn't know before. Although I couldn't convince my buddy Gord that I had, in fact, heard of thalidomide babies before this. :P Speaking of Gord, he had a parody song about the current Prime Minister at the time that went "We didn't vote for Brian! He's so disrespected, how'd he get elected?" that was just hilarious.
42. The Sound of Silence ... Simon & Garfunkel
43. Follow Me ... Uncle Kracker
44. I'll Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That) ... Meat Loaf I had never (to my knowledge) heard a Meat Loaf song before. If you'd asked me who he was, I'd have said he was a big fat biker rocker from the seventies. But then this song busted out and it was long and lush and over the top. Of course I liked it.
45. Mesmerize ... Ja Rule featuring Ashanti
46. Hangin' Tough ... New Kids on the Block
47. The Only Thing That Looks Good on Me Is You ... Bryan Adams I have said this to a certain woman several times. She always agreed with me too. ;)
48. Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da ... The Beatles The first time I heard this song, it was the theme from Life Goes On. I'd never heard it before, and I've never actually heard it since. I was astonished to learn it was from the Beatles. (I like several Beatles songs, but I'm not a fan if you know what I mean)
49. I'm Too Sexy ... Right Said Fred That woman I mentioned from #47? She had this entire album on tape. And she played it in her car, via the only cassette adaptor I've ever seen that plugged into an 8-track deck. She seemed to really like it, but I was disdainful. But I never forgot that convertor. lol
50. My Heart Will Go On ... Celine Dion This suffered from the same problem as #7, except that it sucked to begin with. It should have stayed on the closing credits of Titanic and never been allowed to leave.

And now to bring you down again. I read the article entitled 911 recordings reveal the final confusing hours and I felt the sympathy rise up in me. There is some audio of the 911 calls if you follow that link, but I'm going to reproduce the entire article here for you anyway:

911 recordings reveal the final confusing hours

Recordings of the lost couple's calls to 911 emergency dispatchers weave a heartbreaking trail through fear, delusion, agony, frustration and desperation.

The trail that ultimately failed to bring help to the two as they struggled to survive in the snow and the dark began in the first call, when Janelle Hornickel asserted that the two were near their central Omaha apartment.

That was at 12:28 a.m. Jan. 5.

Over the next four hours, she and Michael Wamsley never gave up telling 911 dispatchers they were near the Mandalay Apartments, 75th Street and Poppleton Avenue, regardless of how illogical that was shown to be.

And dispatchers never could pin down the couple's precise location, despite promising threads of conversation that suggested Platte River sites maddeningly close to where Wamsley and Hornickel actually were.

A deputy acting on those prompts actually found footprints in the quarry near where their bodies were eventually found. But the officer was called off when the search focused elsewhere.

The couple cried for help in the calls. Dispatchers worked them for any shred of information - mostly pushing calmly for details, occasionally barking for clarity and sometimes making emotional appeals to keep the couple going.

The tapes reveal moments of lucidity, sandwiched between tales so incredible that they must have been hallucinations.

Wamsley gave clues that proved true. He saw a gravel pit. A sand pile. A crane. A window-wrapped shack containing a blue book.

He also reported seeing 200 people on a pond. He called out to them for help but told a dispatcher they wouldn't help because they didn't speak English.

And Hornickel told Douglas County 911 that she was above her apartment in the trees, "and there's a lot of Mexicans and African-Americans and they're all dressed up in like these cult outfits, and they're moving all the vehicles."

They were, she said, taking cars apart and putting the parts in trees.

In the end, the conversations, like a person lost in a blizzard, wandered only in circles, and led nowhere.
"Hi, um, I'm here to report, um, I feel very threatened . . . hello, hello, can you hear me?" Hornickel said in her first call to 911. "I'm at the Mandalay apartment complexes."

"Are you in Omaha?" the Sarpy County dispatcher asked.

"Yes."

"OK," the dispatcher said. "Let me transfer you. Stay on the line."

About a half-hour later, Wamsley called back, reaching Sarpy County 911 again.

"My girlfriend placed a call earlier, out by an old sandpit," he said. "Out by a sandpit, oh, probably around 75th and Poppleton."

He said somebody had taken his truck, and the couple went out to look for it and became lost. Another time, he told a dispatcher they were following people to a party along some winding trails.

The one constant was they were near their apartment. The couple told dispatchers that no fewer than 22 times. They continued to insist so despite all evidence to the contrary.

"Did you get off a highway to get into the sandpit?" a Sarpy dispatcher asked.

"No, it's just off of 75th, far as I understand," Wamsley said.

Dispatcher: "75th Street?"

Wamsley: "Yes, it's like you take 75th straight back here far as I understand."

Dispatcher: "You understand, the only thing we do know, is that you're hitting off a cell tower at 216th Street. So can you do the math? 216th minus 75 is. . ."

Wamsley: "I understand the math, ma'am, but . . ."

Dispatcher: "So, let's try to forget the 75th Street, because that just doesn't kind of make sense. OK? So let's try to rethink it here, OK?"

Wamsley: "OK, my apartment number is 7524 Poppleton Plaza, Apartment 2. You can call Kristi and tell her that Mike Wamsley and Janelle Hornickel and that we need to be assisted. . . ."

Dispatcher: "Does she know where you're at?"

Wamsley (crying): "No, I doubt it . . ."

Wamsley went on in that call or others to say they were near a pond or a lake. He described the site as an old pit where gravel was pumped from the ground. He described a toll-booth-like shack the couple had taken shelter in, and what they could see from it.

The threads were strong and specific enough that a Sarpy dispatcher placed them near the Platte River in western Sarpy County.

"Are you near Iske, or are you near the river?" the dispatcher asked.

"I'm guessing it's . . . um, probably it's . . . (crying) oh, I don't know for sure . . .," Wamsley replied.

Dispatcher: "OK, well, I can't trace where you're at, do you understand where I'm coming from?"

Wamsley: "I, I understand where you're coming from."

Dispatcher: "OK, are you near the Platte River? Are you near Gretna, Bellevue?"

Wamsley: "Are we near Gretna or Bellevue? Gretna."

Dispatcher: "OK, good, that's a help . . . Did you pass Linoma Beach on Highway 6?"

Wamsley: "Ma'am, I don't think so."

He hadn't seen the Linoma Beach lighthouse, he told her. So it went with nearly all of the dispatchers' delving for landmarks. No street signs. No businesses. No road name anywhere near where they were.

The one business the couple referred to by name was Dr. John's - which is within blocks of their Omaha apartment.

Always confused, the couple occasionally reported seeing outlandish things.

There was a shack, they said, but they couldn't get to it because it was surrounded by dogs.

Wamsley and Hornickel later took shelter in the shack. Wamsley accurately described it and its contents.

As the night wore on and the frustration mounted, the couple's directions grew increasingly garbled and desperate.

In an early call to Douglas County 911, Hornickel sounded plaintive as she tried to give directions.

In the background, she asked Wamsley if they were "east or west of the apartments, would you say?" Then she tells the dispatcher, "Straight south. Go down 75th, go straight into them. Yeah, I think I'm just going to have to start running and get out of here. I don't know who else to call. OK, thank you."

Dispatcher: All right.

Hornickel: OK, bye.

Dispatcher: You going to stay on the phone with me?

Hornickel: I don't know what else to do . . . I can.

Dispatcher: Up to you.

Hornickel: I just don't know what else to do. I hope we have enough gas to keep moving around until we find a way out.

Dispatcher: OK. Help's on the way, OK?

Hornickel: OK. How long do you think it will be?

Dispatcher: It takes time to get out there because of the snowy conditions.

Hornickel: Can the helicopter go over the trees?

Dispatcher: The helicopter cannot fly in this kind of weather.

Hornickel began crying.

Throughout the calls, the couple could be heard breathing hard as they walked through the blowing snow or huddled for shelter. Wamsley on several occasions encouraged Hornickel.

Dispatchers tried to encourage both of them.

At one point, a Sarpy dispatcher butted in when Wamsley suggested sending rescuers to 75th Street and West Center Road.

"Mike, Mike?" she said.

"That's the best I can give you," he said. "That's all I've got.

Dispatcher: "OK, do you want to give it up then, because that doesn't make sense."

Wamsley: "I don't know, I don't know."

Dispatcher: "You don't want to give it up, do you?"

Wamsley: "No, I don't."

Dispatcher: "Yeah, I don't either."

Wamsley: "But I'm freezing, and my girlfriend is freezing, and . . ."

Dispatcher: "That's why we want to help you, Mike."

Wamsley: "Help then, please."

Dispatcher: "That's why I'm saying, please, please, please Mike, I need you to think about it, OK?"

As the night went on and help could not find them, the couple's calls became increasingly frantic and decreasingly lucid. Wamsley could barely be understood in a call to Saunders County 911 at 4:20 a.m. But he could be heard saying he was at a horseshoe-shaped gate.

"It's OK," he said.

Dispatchers and operators continued talking to each other. Twilla Hornickel, Janelle's mother, called Saunders County 911.

But the call from the gate was the couple's last.

Body failing, confused... this is just heartbreaking to me. It's like the worst of bad dreams, where nothing works or makes sense. :(

Long day = sweaty boy

Well, I survived the day. And let me tell you, going to work when it's light out, and going home to bed when it's dark out is far more pleasurable than I remember it being when that was the norm. :P

It's also kind of interesting to see the place when there are lights on and people active. The time goes ripping by ridiculously quickly.

That receptionist that parked in the fire lane? That's the second time she's been warned by me. The first time I didn't even know it was her car and was writing it up when she came out to move it. She acted all innocent about it being wrong then.

Well, last night at work one of the bike guys called me to say that he'd passed both of his tests to get his license to drive rigs. I congratulated him, and he asked what was going on at the site. So I mentioned her, and he said "Oh, does she have a car like ____?"

I said yes, and he said "Man, I've warned her about that so many times! And it's always 'Just for five minutes' with her!"

I am now completely without reservations about having her towed now, despite my S/S saying it wasn't worth the stress of having her pissed off. After all, I don't work with her, and she's been warned lots of times.

The only other thing worth mentioning today is that as I was leaving last night, and loading up my relief with his guard gear, the site cell phone I gave him started ringing. I was behind a counter and head first into a filing cabinet, so I foolishly thought he'd answer it.

Let me segue away here for a moment to mention that the other day the bike guy and my S/S had to rush off to another nearby building because a cleaner had called to report that a man was inside the building and trying to kick down a door to the janitor's closet.

Why, you ask?

It has happened before in other building. There are master keys and passcards for the cleaning staff locked in those rooms.

So they went rushing over, but the guy fled before they got there. Back to my relief:

After four or five rings I pulled my head out of the filing cabinet (it's deep and there isn't room to pull the drawer out the whole way - I wasn't trying to climb in or anything) and said "Now might be a good time to answer that."

He replies (this is that guy I chased in the rain on the bike for hiding my keys on Christmas) "Oh, I thought it was my fucking kidney or something." and spends the next five or six rings rummaging in his pockets to retrieve the phone. Note that we're up to close to a dozen rings now.

Then he starts pushing random buttons on the phone for several rings. Jesus tapdancing Christ!

I snatched the phone away from him and saw that he'd somehow got deep into the menu system. You can't answer the phone like that, so I started backing out at speed and finally answered the phone.

Dead line.

Shit! The bike guy had just run off to respond at that same building where the door kicker was, and the call was from him! I called back, but no answer.

I was just pulling my shoes back on (I was half out of my uniform because I don't wear "SECURITY" stuff on transit) so I could run over and help the guy out, when he came back in the door.

He wasn't mad, but he said that he called because this time there were two people in there, and the interior was dark. He wanted some backup, that's easily understood. I apologised, but fortunately they ultimately left after he confronted them.

On the walk to the SkyTrain station, I kept an eye out for the two, since that was the direction they'd gone in. I didn't see them, but I saw another of the bike patrol guys just heading towards work. I told him the story and asked if he'd seen them, he said no.

It's his opinion that the guy didn't know how to answer the phone because he's used to ignoring it. ;)

People - if you're ever in a position to hire private security... make sure you check up on them. Cameras, pipe logs... something. Because you're probably getting ripped off.

Next time I'll call some kids to jack that car!

Janet Jackson to Attend Super Bowl Event.

That's all well and good, but what about all the U.S. children still traumatized one year later after seeing her partially exposed breast on tv?

"By the time CBS cut to an aerial view of the stadium, the damage was done," said Wasserbaum, who has also worked extensively with orphaned and amputee children in Third World war zones. "I've found that children can be amazingly resilient, but this event was too much for many of them to take. The horrible image of that breast is likely to haunt them for the rest of their lives."

I am, of course, only kidding. We need more breasts on tv. Along with more of whatever it's currently fashionable to cover up.

I remember living in Summerland one winter and my brother came by to visit. We were going to watch Star Wars or Army of Darkness, but the vcr at the house wasn't working, so we went over to my roommate's parent's place and tried there. That didn't work very well either, but we did manage to catch a bit of an odd drama while flipping channels.

We came across a couple of men slightly on the thin side with good hair arguing face to face. The line that arrested our attention:

"And what do I get for my trouble? A pain in the ass and a shit-stained duvet!"

Now that's quality television. :)

You know it's said that you take on characteristics of the person you're with? How about when you're merely thinking of them but they're not around?

I ask, because the other day before work I bought a milk-based drink to give me some energy since I'd skipped eating, and as I went to pick it up off of the counter, I managed to knock it down on the floor where it promptly exploded and polished my shoes with sticky drink. And my pants, up to the knees too.

The person I'm thinking of used to have about a one in three chance of making it through a door without banging on the side. Although in an email today, I've been assured that their dexterity has improved. We'll see. :P

As I was coming home from work yesterday, I saw a sight that rather pissed me off - an obviously pregnant late-term woman smoking and drinking a triple shot something or other from Starbucks.

Simply. Not. Cool.

Today at the end of my shift I managed to piss off the receptionist at my site. Not difficult to do, by all accounts. This is the one that's crazy about the music that plays, and was all upset that someone sat in her chair once.

She normally doesn't quite make it to work on time. But when she's running even further behind, she parks in the fire lane out front.

I've only seen it happen twice myself, but I've been told it happens all the time. The first time I saw it happen, I didn't even know it was her car. She came out and moved it when she saw me writing down the license plate.

Anyway, lots of people stop there to drop somebody off, or if they're picking something up, so I let it slide in the interests of quick convenience.

As she came in just as I was going off shift, I noted the time in my notebook and went off to drop off my paperwork and change.

Fifteen minutes later it was still parked there. The firelane isn't in a parking lot, it's in the driveway which is two vehicle widths wide. She didn't even pull as far forward as possible, so everybody has to go around her.

So I headed over to reception and waited for her to get off the phone. When she looked up and said "Yes?" I told her "I don't mean to be a pain, but you've got to move your car."

She immediately went on the defensive. She said people do it all the time and there's nothing wrong with being there for five minutes, that she forgot her pass for the parking garage, that there's nobody to cover reception.

I replied that it was illegal and my duty to deal with it (true). That I'd prefer that she moved it so that I didn't have to call it in.

She told me I don't have to call anything in, that none of the other security guys ever felt the need to call it in, that people park there all the time when I'm not around, blah blah blah.

Again, I asked her to move it. I mentioned that I'm not responsible for what other security people do or don't do, nor am I responsible for what people do when I'm not around.

"Do what you have to do." she says, throwing down the gauntlet.

So I did.

I went out and wrote her up, then fired up my phone and walked off.

Of course, it's entirely possible that she's somehow managed to reach the age of fifty and never learned that a yellow curb that has NO PARKING written on it next to the hookups for firetrucks isn't an appropriate place to park your car. There's plenty of perfectly good road to park on not five meters away.

So I didn't call it in. This time.

I see my S/S tonight, and I'm sure I'll get chewed out for whatever slant she's put on the story, but that's okay. If a bunch of people were hurt when the elevator failed and emergency vehicles had to respond, and found the access to the front door blocked, would her reason of "lots of people do it, and I was running late" hold water? I don't think so.

Bah!

To counteract all of this boring negativity, enjoy this clip of a soccer-playing elephant.

I'm sleepy. I'm going in for a nap. And hopefully I won't end up having a dream like Nihilistic Alchemist did. =8O

UPDATE 1440 2005-01-28:

Well, the receptionist didn't blab to my S/S or anybody else that I've been able to find that I'm a terrible person who browbeat her unmercifully. Although she did stay late and attempt to charm the hates-everything Romanian. He was baffled until I supplied her likely motive, but since he's predisposed to dislike her (he's always called her "Hag" when he mentions her), no problems there for me.

When my S/S came to relieve me at 0800 this morning, it smelled as though he'd really managed to tie one on. Who the hell needs to drink enough first thing in the morning that my eyes watered when I was nearby? And just before work too? Gah. :P

Anyway, I'm off for part two of my shift today. I doubt there'll be anything to blog about, but I'll just make up some random rants if so. ;)

Also, I got a fantastic picture sent to me today. If I didn't have all the emotional depth of a molecule, I'd gush about it here. If I thicken up, I may still. :P

Know-it-all Bavarians!

Got into it with the Romanian last night.

He was apparently talking more of his nonsense to the young phone-loving guard, who then paged me and asked if the stuff the guy was saying was true.

"No, they haven't found evidence of crustaceous life on the moon. No, they haven't determined that there are two tonnes of biomass on Mars that have produced methane in the atmosphere to the tune of 5-11 parts per million. No, there is no evidence of life elsewhere in the universe."

And so on.

The guy heard me, and started quoting pseudo-science at me. "They've found life on meteors in Antarctica that is silicon-based!" Along with the aforementioned claims of life on the moon and Mars.

I realize that this sounds silly, but when you're three guys in a deserted complex in the middle of a slow-dragging night, these conversations are the height of not-dropping-dead-from-boredom.

On and on with claims like this, and I kept asking "Who's they? Quote some sources. And if there was evidence of life that originated elsewhere in the universe it would be front page news, and it would be a hot topic in various scientific journals (other than, like, The National Enquirer)."

"This Italian scientist, who's the top guy (he loves saying "top", by the way. Top of the line is how he describes his computer, and top _____ when he means chief or best) for the European Space Agency's probe to Mars right now said it."

"Uh, who and where?"

"Man, I read it and heard it!"

"Great! Where?"

"I can't remember right now, but if you'll give me your email address I'll send you links to the information."

"Wait, you just got internet access not two days ago. Your computer is brand new too. You can't have just found this information and bookmarked it, otherwise you'd be able to tell me where you found it. What gives?"

"I'll go home and do some research, and send you the information."

"I can go Google stuff too, I'm asking where you heard this stuff."

And those last two lines became a repeating refrain for a solid half hour. :P

Finally it turns out that the only place he'd ever heard this stuff was on the radio program he listens to for a couple of hours each night. The one that talks about remote viewing, ice-melting aliens, HAARP being about weather control, and disguised orbital weapons platforms causing tsunamis.

"You know that that radio show isn't really a creditable source, right? I mean, that could be me on there, saying I'm the top Italian scientist from the ESA and then going on to tell you about how we're inserting amphibian genes into people through flu shots."

Then, if you can believe it, he adopted his "sly expression" and started talking about secret societies pulling the collective puppet strings of humanity, and how there's a whole body of knowledge that's being kept from most.

Of course, he's in the know on some of this he's sanctimoniously happy to inform me. Also, I think he mentioned the Illuminati. You know, that group that supposedly has been controlling the world for thousands of years but really was formed in Bavaria in the nineteenth century and never did anything? Bah.

On another note, more people at work are greeting me by name. Some of them are even coming out of their way to say hello to me, and ask how my weekend went.

This is no less creepy to me than it was before, as I don't wear a nametag, and I'm not listed in any directory except as "Security". So how do all of these people that I don't know know who I am?

For fear of looking even dumber than my clip-on tie already makes me look, I haven't asked any of them, but I have asked a few of the peeps that I do know if there was an email or something sent out about me. Just like I did a couple of weeks ago.

No email, and they're as mystified (or seem to be) as I am.

I'm normally pretty paranoid, but this is sending my levels through the roof. Maybe it's a psych test. :P

Hey! Maybe the site is a redoubt of the Illuminati! That explains it!

Interesting headlines I noticed on Yahoo:

Italian town of Vicenza imposes week-long car ban.

Russian Lawmakers Targets Jewish Groups.


Most thoughtful thing I've read lately: a paraphrase of Chief Seattle's letter to the government of the US when they inquired into purchasing some tribal lands around about 1852.

"The President in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land. But how can you buy or sell the sky? The land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them?

Every part of this earth is sacred to my people. Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every meadow, every humming insect. All are holy in the memory and experience of my people.

We know the sap which courses through the trees as we know the blood that courses through our veins. We are part of the earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters. The bear, the deer, the great eagle, these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the juices in the meadow, the body heat of the pony, and man, all belong to the same family.

The shining water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water, but the blood of our ancestors. If we sell you our land, you must remember that it is sacred. Each ghostly reflection in the clear waters of the lakes tells of events and memories in the life of my people. The water's murmur is the voice of my father's father.

The rivers are our brothers. They quench our thirst. They carry our canoes and feed our children. So you must give to the rivers the kindness you would give any brother.

If we sell you our land, remember that the air is precious to us, that the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports. The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also receives his last sigh. The wind also gives our children the spirit of life. So if we sell you our land, you must keep it apart and sacred, as a place where man can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow flowers.

Will you teach your children what we have taught our children? That the earth is our mother? What befalls the earth befalls all the sons of the earth.

This we know: the earth does not belong to man, man belongs to the earth. All things are connected like the blood that unites us all. Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.

One thing we know: our god is also your god. The earth is precious to him and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its creator.

Your destiny is a mystery to us. What will happen when the buffalo are all slaughtered? The wild horses tamed? What will happen when the sercret corners of the forest are heavy with the scent of many men and the view of the ripe hills is blotted by talking wires? Where will the thicket be? Gone! Where will the eagle be? Gone! And what is it to say goodbye to the swift pony and the hunt? The end of living and the beginning of survival.

When the last Red Man has vanished with his wilderness and his memory is only the shadow of a cloud moving across the prairie, will these shores and forests still be here? Will there be any of the spirit of my people left?

We love this earth as a newborn loves its mother's heartbeat. So, if we sell you our land, love it as we have loved it. Care for it as we have cared for it. Hold in your mind the memory of the land as it is when you receive it. Preserve the land for all children and love it, as God loves us all.

As we are part of the land, you too are part of the land. This earth is precious to us. It is also precious to you. One thing we know: there is only one God. No man, be he Red Man or White Man, can be apart. We are brothers, after all."

Got a holster, now if my shirt only fit...

Nothing too interesting going on. Aside from my first day of the week at work not leaving me sleepy. Maybe I'm finally getting used to it, or finally getting more sleep. I'll refrain from speaking definitively until I've collected more data. :)

The Sleeper must be feeling better, because he's more brusque to me now. When he was at the height of his back pain, he was positively jovial (for him). Asking how I was, even cracking a couple of jokes about stuff he heard on the radio.

Now it's "Hello" (in response to me saying hi) followed by "I'll see you in the morning" and he leaves. Back to his old self. :P

There was a holster for the radio waiting for me when I got to work, btw. That was a nice surprise. Now I can carry that thing on my hip and not end up with a serious case of claw-hand by the end of the night.

Of course, the I-Hate-Everything Romanian complained about it. "It's too heavy man!" he said.

"Heavy?" I asked. "The radio weighs the same as it ever did, and a couple hundred grams of leather and metal don't add much to it."

He then went on about how far he has to walk each night on his patrols (he figures around 25-30 kilometers). Yeah yeah, whatever you say.

From the time I got there (2335 or so) until about 0230 he didn't budge from his chair in my lobby. Then he said "I'll see you at 0400 for hot chocolate" and headed off to do his "rounds", which really means he goes to the fourth floor of an adjacent building and sleeps, since he didn't go down to the exercise room in that same adjacent building to watch tv. I know, because we looked through the window. ;)

So I took his seat and talked to his partner for a bit. His partner said "Did you notice his report?" and pushes it across to me. Neat trick, not only does it have him doing patrols every half hour since I got there (remember, he hadn't moved), it also anticipated the next 1.5 hours and had his patrols written in there, including that everything was secure. Must be nice to have gypsy precognitive powers, eh?

Also, for some reason I headed out to work slightly earlier than usual. This was fortunate as they were doing track maintainance along my route. So instead of hopping on the train and going, it was hopping on the train, going for two stations. Getting out on the wrong side, waiting for another train, taking that for a station, then going for a bit, slowing down and stopping in the middle of the track, going backwards for a bit, then stopping and waiting, then going forwards again.

Fun!

I see JC has died. No, the other one. :P

Also, yesterday (January 22) was the anniversary of when R. Budd Dwyer blew his head off on live television.

Famous last words: "If this will offend you, please leave the room. Stay away, this thing will hurt someone."

With that, he gobbled the end of his pistol and splattered his brains all over the wall behind him. At a press conference.

I remember being in high school at the time (1987) and thinking that if they'd only schedule these things in advance, I'd watch the news more often. :P Read more here.

Ruminations before work

I didn't do anything on my day off, other than laundry and clean up a bit. Should I be liking the smell of this orange cleaner this much?

Whales are jerks.

Pulled from Yahoo! News:

D.A. Confronts 'Jury Pool From Hell'

MEMPHIS, Tenn. - Defense attorney Leslie Ballin called it the "jury pool from hell." The group of prospective jurors was summoned to listen to a case of Tennessee trailer park violence. Right after jury selection began last week, one man got up and left, announcing, "I'm on morphine and I'm higher than a kite."

When the prosecutor asked if anyone had been convicted of a crime, a prospective juror said that he had been arrested and taken to a mental hospital after he almost shot his nephew. He said he was provoked because his nephew just would not come out from under the bed.

Another would-be juror said he had had alcohol problems and was arrested for soliciting sex from an undercover officer. "I should have known something was up," he said. "She had all her teeth."

Another prospect volunteered he probably should not be on the jury: "In my neighborhood, everyone knows that if you get Mr. Ballin (as your lawyer), you're probably guilty." He was not chosen.

The case involved a woman accused of hitting her brother's girlfriend in the face with a brick. Ballin's client was found not guilty.

Some people claim to respect individuality, but then don't like it when the manifestation of it results in you doing something they don't like, even though it doesn't cost them anything.

I'd also like to add that my brain hurts at trying to understand a way of thinking that would have someone who's almost thirty, with multiple degrees, a high intelligence, fairly good social skills, multiple spoken languages, well travelled, compassionate, and caring be considered a child, but someone still in high school that gets married is considered an adult. I've been thinking about this for days.

Will Ferrell in White House West.

Oh, that tsunami was no tragedy. Thanks for letting us know, Michael Savage.

Internet Help Desk. Lord knows I've had conversations like this over the phone. And over icq.

Money quote: "We got a serious twelve o'clock flasher here."

As I was leaving work on Friday morning, a guy from Price Waterhouse Cooper that I've been letting into the building this week, was outside drinking his coffee. He's a really nice guy, but he has the unfortunate habit of showing up about half an hour before he's supposed to, and is stuck cooling his heels until the rest of his group arrives and someone takes them up to the room they've been using.

So I just let him up there, turn on the lights and some music, and give him unsupervised access to the doughnuts. No biggie.

Anyway, that morning he was inclined to wait for them, so we shot the shit for a few minutes.

I was already out of my uniform, so I was slightly impressed that he recognised me. Most people identify with a uniform rather than the person in it. Anyway, we talked about his work, he asked some questions about security, and then said "You should come work for us." as his manager/boss/supervisor/team leader and the rest of his crew rolled up. "Let me introduce you to someone."

Er...

So he introduces me to a distinguished looking guy with just a touch of silver at his temples and a suit that looks (even to my fashion-impared senses) like it cost more than my annual wage.

We shake hands and say hello, and my friend talks about me to this guy for a minute or so. The distinguished looking guy says "He's right, you're the kind of person we like to have back at the office."

What could I say? This: "Oh, do you need some heavy lifting done?"

My friend's face blanches. There's no expression on the face of the distinguished looking guy. "Well, we should be heading in. Nice to meet you."

And off they all go.

Who knew that accountants have no sense of humour? :P

My S/S is trying to get the bike patrol guys from the other company in trouble with the management company that's hired them. He's mentioned to me before that he wants our company (and thus him, as big cheese for the site) to get the contract for all of the surrounding buildings.

So he phones up the bike guy that's on while he's on, and asks where he is. Then he always tries to get him into our cafeteria and take breaks and just sit around... so he can report it to the management company that keeps an office at my site.

Fortunately, the bike patrol guy he's been working on is well aware of this, and specifically doesn't rise to the bait. ;)

There's another guy at the site (works for the site, not for security) that's a great friend of my S/S. But sometimes he works late, and when I'm around he complains and makes fun of him. Tells me that nobody at the site likes my S/S, and they all think this and that. He drops tidbits for me that are as plain as day. Is this some sort of spying engaged by my S/S to see what people say about him?

You know how I mentioned a while back that my S/S leaves the site to go eat dinner, for hours at a time? He does it with this guy. This guy also tells me that my S/S stops watching tv in the conference room about 45 minutes before I get there, just so he doesn't get caught. He's also taken to deadbolting the door and watching the screen with the lights out. Apparently he's unaware that people outside can still hear the tv, and see the flickering light from under the door.

I suggested to the guy telling me all of this that if it really bothers him, he should wedge a broom or chair through the handles of the doors leading to that room, and leave the S/S there for me to find. Let him explain that away. ;)

Oh, and I think I must have finally figured the site out now, since my S/S was complaining that there was catered food brought in, but nothing left for him. After he left, I found it. Sandwiches and veggies. Mmmmm!

Found some doughnuts too, for a few days running. ;)

Note that this is food that gets tossed out in the early morning when the cleaning crew does their rounds. I'm not ripping anything off. :)

Have I given everybody enough time to practice their HL2? How about a couple more weeks? :)

I'm going to go take that advice that I took last time I had a day off, and watch the movie called "I bet so-and-so would suggest I have a nap instead". And then go to work. Ciao!

Cram it with walnuts, ugly!

Well shit.

I have one day off per week. Or, rather, I get one night where I don't have to think of work. I use the time to do my laundry and attempt to remedy my weekly sleep deficit.

I also have the weakness of not being able to turn down work when somebody offers it.

I just got off the phone with my S/S, and the Friday after next he wants me to come in for an afternoon shift. Let me break this down:

I'm going to work from 0000 to 0800 Friday morning. Normally I'd then be off until Saturday night. That gives me Friday night free, which I'd use to sleep. That frees up the latter part of Friday, and the early part of Saturday to do the various chores that accumulate during the week. Makes sense, right?

Well, now I'm going to work from 0000 to 0800 on Friday, and then from 1600 to 0000 the same day. The timing stinks.

Usually my S/S works that shift, but because we need an extra guy on (the site will be shut down so they'll need 24 hour security rather than 16 hour), he always takes advantage of that and shifts to the 0800-1600 shift. Means he gets his evening free.

Of course, he gets weekends off as well.

Much better for me if he sticks to his usual shift and lets me work from 0000-1600. It's still sixteen hours that day, but to work it in one big bunch lets me get it out of the way and have some semblance of my day off. But noooooooooo.

He claims that someone there wanted him on because there are contractors showing up on the site. Sounds reasonable, but even I can open a door for outside labour, and even let them out afterwards. I did it last night, in fact. And earlier in the week. You know, doing the job I get paid for.

All of that aside, I accepted it anyway. Damn it.

Pardon me while I stew at myself for a while. :P

Share and enjoy

Other than the crazy receptionist at the site where I work being upset that someone sat in her chair over the weekend (has someone been eating your porridge too, Baby Bear?), a dream about a giant dilapidated warehouse in which forklifts move plastic-wrapped pallets of "fresh" baked goods in and out of the streams of fetid water pouring in from the giant hole in the roof, and me waking up tonight babbling baby words, I have nothing interesting to write about. So I decided to sit down and share (appreciate that I typed it all, damn you!) one of the short stories that I've enjoyed for years.

I like stories that cleverly rework bits of history, especially if they can expound on a tiny offhand remark. So here's one of them:

WARNING: Longer than a usual blog entry

How I Wrote the New Testament, Ushered in the Renaissance, and Birdied the 17th Hole at Pebble Beach

So how was I to know that after all the false Messiahs the Romans nailed up, he would turn out to be the real one?

I mean, it's not every day that the Messiah lets himself be nailed to a cross, you know? We all thought he was supposed to come with the sword and throw the Romans out and raze Jerusalem to the ground - and if he couldn't quite pull that off, I figured the least he could do was take on a couple of the bigger Romans, mano a mano, and whip them in straight falls.

It's not as if I'm an unbeliever. (How could I be, at this late date?) But you talk about the Anointed One, you figure you're talking about a guy with a little flash, a little style, a guy whose muscles have muscles, a Sylvester Stallone or Arnold Schwarzenegger-type of guy, you know what I mean?

So sure, when I see them walking this skinny little wimp up to Golgotha, I join in the fun. So I drink a little too much wine, and I tell too many jokes (but all of them funny, if I say so myself), and maybe I even hold the vinegar for one of the guards (though I truly don't remember doing that) - but is that any reason for him to single me out?

Anyway, there we are, the whole crowd from the pub, and he looks directly at me from his cross, and he says, "One of you shall tarry here until I return."

"You can't be talking to me!" I answer, giving a big wink to my friends. "I do all my tarrying at the House of Young Maidens over on the next street!"

Everybody else laughs at this, even the Romans, but he just stares reproachfully at me, and a few minutes later he's telling God to forgive us, as if we're the ones who broke the rules of the Temple, and then he dies, and that's that.

Except that from that day forth, I don't age so much as a minute, and when Hannah, my wife, sticks a knife between my ribs just because I forgot her birthday and didn't come home for a week and then asked for a little spending money when I walked in the door, I find to my surprise that the second she removes the knife I am instantly healed with not even a scar.

Well, this puts a whole new light on things, because suddenly I realize that this little wimp on the cross really was the Messiah, and that I have been cursed to wander the Earth (though in perfect health) until he returns, which does not figure to be any time soon as the Romans are already talking about throwing us out of Jerusalem and property values are skyrocketing.

Well, at first this seems more like a blessing than a curse, because at least it means I will outlive the yenta I married and maybe get a more understanding wife. But then all my friends start growing old and dying, which they would do anyway but which always seems to happen a little faster in Judea, and Hannah adds a quick eighty pounds to a figure that could never be called svelte in the first place, and suddenly it looks like she's going to live as long as me, and I decide that maybe this is the very worst kind of curse after all.

Now, at about the time that Hannah celebrates her ninetieth birthday - thank God we didn't have cakes and candles back in those days or we might have burnt down the whole city - I start to hear that Jerusalem is being overrun by a veritable plague of Christians. This in itself is enough to make my good Jewish blood boil, but when I find out exactly what a Christian is, I am fit to be tied. Here is this guy who curses me for all eternity or until he returns, whichever comes first (and it's starting to look like it's going to be a very near thing), and suddenly - even though nothing he promised come to pass except for cursing a poor itinerant businessman who never did anyone any harm - everybody I know is worshipping him.

There is no question in my mind that the time has come to leave Judea, and I wait just long enough for Hannah to choke on an unripe fig which someone has thoughtlessly served her while she laid in bed complaining about her nerves, and then I catch the next caravan north and book passage across the Mediterranean Sea to Athens, but as Fate would have it, I arrive about five centuries too late for the Golden Age.

This is naturally an enormous disappointment, but I spend a couple of decades soaking up the sun and dallying with assorted Greek maidens, and when this begins to pall I finally journey to Rome to see what all the excitement is about.

And what is going on there is Christianity, which makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, since to the best of my knowledge no one else he ever cursed or blessed is around to give testimony to it, and I have long since decided that being known as the guy who taunted him on the cross would not be in the best interests of my social life and so I have kept my lips sealed on the subject.

But be that as it may, they are continually having these gala festivals - kind of like the Super Bowl, but without the two-week press buildup - in which Christians are thrown to the lions, and they have become overwhelmingly popular with the masses, though they are really more of a pageant than a sporting even, since the Christians almost never win and the local bookmakers won't even list a morning line on the various events.

I stay in Rome for almost two centuries, mostly because I have become spoiled by indoor plumbing and paved roads, but then I can see the handwriting on the wall and I realize that I am going to outlive the Roman Empire, and it seems like a good idea to get established elsewhere before the Huns overrun the place and I have to learn to speak German.

So I become a wanderer, and I find that I really like to travel, even though we do not have any amenities such as Pullman cars or even Holiday Inns. I see all the various wonders of the ancient world - although it is not so ancient then as it has become - and I journey to China (where I help them invent gunpowder, but leave before anyone considers inventing the fuse), and I do a little tiger-hunting in India, and I even toy with climbing Mount Everest (but I finally decide against it since it didn't have a name back then, and bragging to people that I climbed this big nameless mountain in Nepal will somehow lack a little something in the retelling.)

After I have completed my tour, and founded and outlived a handful of families, and hobnobbed with the rich and powerful, I return to Europe, only to find that the whole continent is in the midst of the Dark Ages. Not that the daylight isn't as bright as ever, but when I start speaking to people it is like the entire populace has lost an aggregate of 40 points off its collective I.Q.

Talk about dull! Nobody can read except the monks, and I find to my dismay that they still haven't invented air-conditioning or even frozen food, and once you finish talking about the king and the weather and what kind of fertilizer you should use on your fields, the conversation just kind of lays there like a dead fish, if you know what I mean.

Still, I realize that I now have my chance for revenge, so I take the vows and join an order of monks and live a totally cloistered life for the next twenty years (except for an occasional Saturday night in town, since I am physically as vigorous and virile as ever), and finally I get my opportunity to translate the Bible and I start inserting little things, little hints that should show the people what he was really like, like the bit with the Gadarene swine, where he puts devils into the pigs and makes them rush down the hill to the sea. So okay, that's nothing to write home about today, but you've got to remember that back then I was translating this for a bunch of pig farmers, who have a totally different view of this kind of behavior.

OR what about the fig tree? Only a crazy man would curse a fig tree for being barren when it's out of season, right? But for some reason, everyone who reads it decides it is an example of his power rather than his stupidity, and after a while I just pack it in and leave the holy order forever.

Besides, it is time to move on, and the realization finally dawns on me that no matter how long I stay in one spot, eventually my feet get itchy and I have to give in to my wanderlust. It is the curse, of course, but while wandering from Greece to Rome during the heyday of the Empire was pleasant enough, I find that wandering from one place to another in the Dark Ages is something else again, since nobody can understand two-syllable words and soap is not exactly a staple commodity.

So after touring all the capitals of Europe and feeling like I am back in ancient Judea, I decide that it is time to put an end to the Dark Ages. I reach this decision when I am in Italy, and I mention it to Michelangelo and Leonardo while we are sitting around drinking wine and playing cards, and they decide that I am right and it is probably time for the Renaissance to start.

Creating the Renaissance is pretty heady stuff, though, and they both go a little haywire. Michelangelo spends the next few years lying on his back getting pain on his face, and Leonardo starts designing organic airplanes. However, once they get their feet wet they do a pretty good job of bringing civilization back to Italy, though my dancing partner Lucretia Borgia is busily poisoning it as quick as Mike and Leo are enlightening it, and just about the time things get really interesting I find my feet getting itchy again, and I spend the next century or so wandering through Africa, where I discover the Wandering Jew Falls and put up a signpost to the effect, but evidently somebody uses it for firewood, because the next I hear of the place it has been renamed the Victoria Falls.

Anyway, I keep wandering around the world, which becomes an increasinging interesting place to wander around once the Industrial Revolution hits, but I can't help feeling guilty, not because of that moment of frivolity eons ago, but because except for having Leonardo do a portrait of my girlfriend Lisa, I really don't seem to have any great accomplishments, and eighteen centuries of aimlessness can begin to pall on you.

And then I stop by a little place in England called Saint Andrews, where they have just invented a new game, and I play the very first eighteen holes of golf in the history of the world, and suddenly I find that I have a purpose after all, and that purpose is to get my handicap down to scratch and play every course in the world, which so far comes to a grand total of one but soon will run into the thousands.

So I invest my money, and I buy a summer home in California and a winter home in Florida, and while the world is waiting for the sport to come to them, I build my own putting greens and sand traps, and for those of you who are into historical facts, it is me and no one else who invents the sand wedge, which I do on April 17, 1893. (I invent the slice into the rough three days later, which forces me to invent the two-iron. Over the next decade I also invent the three through nine irons, and I have plans to invent irons all the way up to number twenty-six, but I stop at nine until such time as someone invents the golf cart, since twenty-six irons are very difficult to carry over a five-mile golf course, with or without a complete set of woods and a putter.)

By the 1980s I have played on all six continents, and I am currently awaiting the creatin of a domed links on Antarctica. Probably it won't come to pass for another two hundred years, but if there is one thing I've got plenty of, it's time. And in the meantime, I'll just keep adding to my list of accomplishments. So far, I'd say my greatest efforts have been putting in that bit about the pigs, and maybe getting Leonardo to stop daydreaming about flying men and get back to work on his easel. And birdying the 17th hole at Pebble Beach has got to rank right up there, too; I mean, how many people can sink a forty-five-foot uphill putt in a cold drizzle?

So all in all, it's been a pretty good life. I'm still doomed to wander for all eternity, but there's nothing in the rulebook that says I can't wander in my personal jet plane, and Fifi and Fatima keep me company when I'm not on the links, and I'm for a lifetime membership at Augusta, which is a lot more meaningful in my case than in most others.

In fact, I'm starting to feel that urge again. I'll probably stop off at the new course they've built near Lake Naivasha in Kenya, and then hit the links at Bombay, and then the Jaipur Country Club, and then . . .

I just hope the Second Coming holds off long enough for me to play a couple of rounds at the Chou En-Lai Memorial Course in Beijing. I hear it's got a water hole that you've got to see to believe.

You know, as curses go, this is one of the better ones.

Copyright (C) 1990 by Mike Resnick. First appeared in Aboriginal SF

Le Meme d'Alphabet

Stolen from Tursi, whose journal you can't read anyway. :)

A - Accent: I grew up and live in Canada. Thus, no accent. Except that when I head east, they can tell I'm from the west.
B - Breast size: If I have 'em, I ain't measuring 'em!
C - Chore you hate: Picking up after myself. If I'm going to do a chore, I prefer to have one with discrete starting and finishing conditions, and a palpable sense of progress while doing it. Dishes and bathroom cleaning fall into this category. "Straightening up a room" does not.
D - Dad's name: Bernhart, but I think everybody except for German family called him Bernie, which is a great name if you bowl, which he did.
E - Essential make-up item: On me? Nothing. On her? Nothing. ;)
F - Favourite perfume: Well, I have Thierry Mugler (which I like to call Terry David Mulligan) but since mid-2003 I've found little occasion to wear it. On her, I like the smell of herself. Especially the hair.
G - Gold or silver: Gold.
H - Hometown: Born in Toronto, raised in a suburb of Vancouver, learned contrast in Fort Nelson, matured in various towns in the Okanagan, am who I am now back in Vancouver. Vancouver.
I - Insomnia: All the time. Doesn't happen if there's someone sleeping with me, even if just in the same room. When Tursi came to visit on New Year's, I slept through the night.
J - Job Title: Security Officer (Licensed).
K - Kids: None yet, but I'm immature enough to count as .5.
L - Living arrangements: A small apartment in New Westminster that's probably adequate for me and my computer, but insufficient for anything else. Time will tell. :)
M - Mum's birthplace: White Fox, Saskatchewan. (Until mom called me last night after reading this, I thought she'd been born in Regina. But who are you going to believe?)
N - Number of apples you've eaten: Many many, mostly in too-short a period of time. Preference: Granny Smiths.
O - Overnight hospital stays: One when I was born, another when I had my tonsils removed (my memory of that is that it lasted several days, but my mom assures me it was only overnight), and once when I had to guard a beating victim from her nuts-on-meth boyfriend who was actually wanted in connection for at least three deaths. =8O Three.
P - Phobia: None that I've discovered as of yet. Whenever anybody mentions they have one, I often remember it until I can check it (constellations?!). And so far, so good.
Q - There appears to be no entry for Q on this list, so I'll make one up:
Q - Quintessential item to have: Computer with internet access (preferably with the occasional fps and rts)
R - Religious affiliation: None. I was raised Lutheran and believed in God and His love and all that... until about grade two in Sunday School when a teacher told us that no animal which has existed has ever died out (God doesn't allow extinction apparently) and thus there never was any such thing as dinosaurs.

You can't tell a seven year old boy that there's no such things as dinosaurs! So over the next several years (I saw Sunday School through until Confirmation) I asked questions, received poor/inconsistant answers, and steadily lost not only faith but came to find that faith and reason are like oil and water - you can put them in the same container ("scientific" explanations of the seven day creation cycle) but they rarely mix. Also, my friend Owen's grandmother was a Buddhist and I learned that "the bible" meant different things to different people.

Now I'm an athiest, unconcerned with the thought that oblivion waits after expiry, happy if people find comfort/happiness/inspiration in a god but slightly contemptuous of those that follow a religion and don't understand the symbology of the rituals that they participate in and those who don't read the central literature of their faith. (Yes, but do you know why it's unleavened bread? Do you know why you have to fast? Do you know why it has to be a virgin sacrifice?) (What do you mean you think it's wrong to masturbate? Because it says so in the bible?! Where?! The story of Onan? Dumbass, he was in trouble because he didn't knock up his brother's sister, not because he "spilled his seed upon the ground" so read instead of letting others read for you.)

I'm also somewhat contemptuous of those who claim to be of a specific religion, but who pick and choose what rules and such they follow from it. If you think that the bible (I always use Christian examples, because they're the ones I know best) says that homosexuality is wrong (Leviticus 18:22 - Do not lie with a man as one lies with a woman; that is detestable.) and you would preach such, then you also have to suck it up that wearing a cotton/polyester shirt is wrong (Leviticus 19:19 - Keep my decrees; Do not mate different kinds of animals (means don't raise goats and pigs on the same farm, not Dr. Moreau hybrids); Do not plant your field with two kinds of seed; Do not wear clothing woven of two kinds of material.).

And most of all, don't be a hypocrite. If you go through the motions of following a faith just to make other people that you are a member/truly believe... then you're a hypocrite. And I've got no time or inclination to listen to hypocrites.

Sorry for the rant, but I get set off every time. Happens when you're forced into a system that doesn't make any sense and you're a creative and bright child. ;)

S - Siblings: Better looking, smarter, and taller younger brother Michael. I can still kick his ass though.
T - Time you wake up: Twice a day - I usually manage to sleep for up to two hours before waking after I come home from work, so that's variable. The other time is at 2100 at which point I start smacking the snooze button until about 2130, and then have to get up and get ready for work.
U - Unnatural hair colours you've worn: Only blond. The first time I got it chunked in, and it was a really well-done job. The second time I got it done (I have to take off my glasses when people do my hair, so I can never actually see what's happening until it's unveiled at the end) she pretty much coloured my entire head blond, which I didn't like but my mother did.
V - Vegetable you refuse to eat: This doesn't technically count as a vegetable, but I don't like mushrooms and they're vegetable-like enough for my purposes.
W - Worst habit: Has to be not seizing opportunities when they come along, followed by procrastination. Also, I can self-sacrifice (not as in giving to others, more like going without something) to the point of ridiculousness.
X - X-rays: Just dental I think, as I've never broken a bone. I haven't been to the dentist in a while either...
Y - Yummy foods you make: When I make food, it's to refuel. There was a time I would bake very occasionally, but that's a long time in the past. I can make tasty natchos to nosh on though. ;)
Z - Zodiac sign: Sagittarius.

Man, I've really got to stop going off on how the big religions of the day need to adjust their viewpoint up to modern day rather than stay mired in a 1500+ year old worldview... sorry, I'll stop now. :P

My day off

Started with me waking up at around 0500. But that's okay, because I got to sleep during the night! It's astonishing how delightful that really is - I can't wait for next week. ;)

Then I got to "chat" with someone that I don't hear from nearly enough, damn it.

And I found myself unaccountably happy!

Well, not unaccountably per se, but happy.

So I did laundry. Ate. Watched some cartoons from my large library purloined and stored on the drive farm. No Naruto yet, though. [pokes Tursi]

Then I went to the bank. The line was too long, so to hell with that! I was off to the mall! For bubble tea and pizza!

Ever notice how when you're happy the world seems happy too? Well it does. :)

Tried to deal with some idiots on the phone for a while, but they stubbornly remained idiots. I'll try again later with different idiots.

Then I went to see Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events. And it wasn't too bad.

Now, I'm not a great one for children's movies. I watch the cartoons and am pretty childish, but there's a limit beyond which I just get bored.

When I was compelled to see Harry Potter (the first one), I was willing but not overly interested. But I made a point of reading the book to bring myself up to speed as to why it was such a big deal. And I got it.

The second book was better still, and the series reached its pinacle in book three. The following ones were okay, but I still prefer the third book.

So with that in mind, perhaps I do kind of like children's movies. Although never in my life would I have guessed I'd be going to a movie starting with the words "Lemony Snicket". :P

Go check it out, but don't go alone. It would have been more fun to giggle at it with someone, like everybody else was doing. And don't let the baby bite you.

Then home and here I am. Since I went to that movie against the advice of someone, I'll take her advice on what to see now. I'll just have time before work, and she has impeccable taste. ;)

No paragraphs, because a paragraph killed my dog.

Today is my one night off per week. So when I came home from work, I surfed a bit and then went to bed. And guess what?

Instead of waking up an hour or two later, I slept! And extra hour or two!

I woke up sometime in the very early afternoon, but when I opened my eyes I thought I was blind. Not because it was dark, but because it was BRIGHT.

I usually open the sliding door to my balcony when I sleep, as I like it to be a little cold when I'm in bed. Well, the sun was pouring through that narrow gap so much, and lighting up the drapes on all the windows so intensely, that it seemed someone had ripped a window into heaven.

So I went back to sleep. ;)

On and off for a few hours, and here I am nearly seven hours later slightly disoriented and not sure if I'm tired or not. But I get to sleep during the night, so that's a treat. Tomorrow I'll try to go out and see a movie or hit a bookstore or whatever, just to do something. Then go to work. :P

More random things:

It's snowed here a few times in the past couple of weeks. And I have a reasonably steep hill I walk up and down between the SkyTrain station and my apartment. This isn't a problem at all, since I have boots that grip like they're magnets.

However... after one snowfall, it warmed up for the next two days. There was also a bit of a wind. So a couple of nights after the snowfall, much of the snow that had been compressed by people walking on it was ice.

Again, that wouldn't be a problem since between my sense of balance and the aforementioned good treads ice is no obstacle. Except that this stuff was like a sea caught in mid-heave. So instead of being able to get good grip, I had less than 20% of my boot actually touching the ground. See where this is going?

So I'm walking to work. I'm paying attention and moving at a good clip. I cross a road and get about three meter farther when I'm suddenly on my ass and sliding downhill. I'm irritated that I failed my Dex check, and that there's no apparent way I can stop my slide without laying back and attempted to drag to a halt (which I don't want to do because I'm going to work and don't want to be covered in dirty wet), so I give up and just enjoy the ride.

For an entire block.

An attractive woman was climing the hill in the opposite direction as I was doing this, but she was cleverly walking in the clear street to do it. As she looked at me sliding down, I affected nonchalance and said "Wheeeeeeeeeeeee".

I'm sure she was fooled into thinking I was completely in control. ;)

Speaking of heading to the SkyTrain, the other day when I was a block away, there was a guy standing on the corner. As I walked by him, he said (as a statement, not a question), "Money".

I looked at him, he looked at me, and I said "Sorry". I'm still not sure exactly what was going on.

Then in front of the station entrance, just as I walked by him, a different guy said "Buying?" to me. I said "No thanks" and as I met his eye he said "Fuck man!". I was feeling slightly out of tune with reality for the rest of the night. :P

You know how when you're sucking on a hard candy, like a butterscotch, how sometimes you'll just swallow it for no apparent reason and be irritated that you don't get to enjoy the rest of it?

What, it's just me?

Nevermind. :P

There was some sort of semi-goth guy on the train this week. He caught my eye because we were in the lead car, and as they're driverless here, you can sit right at the front and watch the track ahead.

He was standing in the place, legs slightly spread for balance, and with his hands resting lightly on the window ledge. He seemed to be pretending that he was moving the train along by sheer force of will. ;)

So I watched him for a while, and then he abruptly turned around. He had long dark brown hair, a thin face, long coat, big boots with buckles... the works.

He did the Commander Riker head tilt and started walking rapidly towards the back of the train, grabbing the occasional vertical pole and swinging himself violently around them as he picked up speed. I wondered if he'd say something to me, but he went on by and after the train stopped I saw him and his semi-goth friend out on the platform striking poses.

I was greatly amused. :)

Remember the Romanian at work I mentioned a while back who'll believe anything as long as it's conspiratorial and doesn't make much sense? China invading Canada and aliens and the government hiding that the polar ice is melting? You can remind yourself about him here.

Yesterday he was going off about Jews. Jews control the media so they're conditioning us. That's why Israel is always on the news. Jews this, Jews that. On and on.

He kept mentioning Jew-controlled media with an agenda, so I asked him what the agenda would be if I owned all the media. This seemed to irritate him quite a bit.

So I said "Do all Romanians work together towards a common goal of world conquest?". He laughed (he didn't see where I was going with this yet) and finally answered "Of course not".

So I asked him how he thought that a subset of humanity that wasn't all a part of the same group (meaning, all the people from Canada don't think alike, but Canadians who join a particular political party might be more in line with each other. Choice, not geography or ancestry) were all working in concert to bring about control of the globe.

He got the expression on his face that he always gets when we don't take his alien abduction stories seriously, and said "Man, I worked in one of their brainwashing camps!"

This was so unexpected that I didn't have time to check my reaction before I started laughing. And laughing and laughing and laughing.

The tears were running down my face and I may have been sobbing as I choked out "Wait until I blog the story of the Romanian that worked at the Jewish brainwashing camp!"

Even he had to laugh at how ridiculous it was at that point. Although it didn't stop him from going on and on about the "diabolical Jews" all night. Here's a little link for him: Yiddish with Dick and Jane. Enjoy. :)

Remember another bike patrol guy at work that we kind of chewed out a little while ago? Refresh your memory here if you like. Anyway, we had to do it again.

Just to remind you of how it works, it breaks down like this:

I work for one security company and I'm stationed inside a building. That's my site.

The bike patrol guys work for a different security company, and they do random checks of seven building in the same area, but not mine. However, between patrols they hang out in my lobby. Make sense?

One of them does the occasional exterior patrol, but he mostly goes out and does the interior of one of the buildings every hour or so. He does each one twice per night (twelve hour shift).

The other guy who's on does strictly exteriors. He's supposed to ride around on his bike and make sure no windows are broken, nobody loading a truck with stolen computers, nobody hiding in the bushes. That sort of thing. He's the one we chewed out for not doing anything.

Well, that was a week ago. This time he was talking on his phone.

I know, no big deal right? Wrong.

Now, maybe it's just me, but I don't usually take personal calls at work. Or rather I take them, but I don't chat. I answer whatever the person wants and finish the call, since I'm not being paid to talk on the phone. I'm paid to be alert to my building.

This guy though, spends hours of every night talking to his girlfriend. That's not a problem when he's between patrols (well, it is if he's talking to her instead of doing his job, but that wasn't the issue here), but he was walking his bike around with the phone glued to his ear. For over two hours. I could see him through the windows of the upper floors of my building when I was doing rounds.

When I came down, his partner was there and pissed off.

They have combination phone-radios that they use - they're normal cell phones but have short range (a few kilometers) radio capabilities that they use to talk to each other or call each other for backup.

This guy had paged the yappy bastard no less than ten times (several in front of me) and the guy was ignoring him. Isn't that wonderful? His partner could be getting beat down but he's going to just keep chatting to his girlfriend.

Finally he answered "Do you mind? I'll be there when I'm done on the phone."

"Okay man," said the other guy, "do what you want. I'm not going to be responsible for you anymore."

And he went off on patrol and cool off.

When I came back from my next patrol, the yappy bugger was there. I went straight to him (he only seems to respond to shock treatment) and said "If you worked for my company you'd have been fired for how you've been tonight."

I went on to say that it's one thing to be a slacker and not do your job (even though it reflects on the rest of us), and it's another thing to be suicidal (as he's not paying attention to his surroundings when he's walking his bike and talking on the phone - just waiting for someone to club him in the back of the head), but to ignore his partner when he's paging him is just inexcusable.

As I went on in that vein for a while, he was saying "I know, I know" and then finally said "It was kind of an emergency."

I said "Unless somebody died or is in the hospital, or anything else you'd call 911 about, it's no emergency. And it's nothing you can fix over the phone anyway, is it?"

Then I noticed he was still holding the phone in his hand, and that there was a bit of squawking coming from it. He was still on the phone!

I won't go into all the details, but I kept on trying to hammer into his head that some things just aren't to be taken lightly, and personal safety (his and ours) is one of them.

When his partner came back, he let him have it too, but finally just said "Do what you want - I'm not interested in you anymore." The kid was stricken.

Hours later, when we were alone and his partner had gone, the kid finally told me what the "emergency" was. Ready for it?

His girlfriend had found other girls' names in his msn list.

I think in the future we're going to tackle this dude and take his phone away before he goes on patrol. :P

Nuggets

No IM messages for a while, and no email in my hotmail account either. So in the course of patching the OS, I rebooted. When msn restarted, lo and behold there were emails! And someone popped up on msn!

Microsoft sucks sometimes - I wonder how long I've been in limbo like that?

Here's a neat little factoid: if you have a "suppress all sounds on phone button", and it gets pressed... you'll not hear the phone ringing. This got discovered when I was on the phone and told someone to call me back, and I waited and waited and waited.

Of course they had called and I hadn't answered. Bah.

It's never attractive when you see yourself in someone else. And it's certainly less than flattering. I was on the train heading to work when I saw just that.

From where I get on, it's ten stops to work. With nine left to go, a couple gets on and sits a couple of seats behind me.

The guy was throwing out unconnected bits of "conversation" with a bit of an edge to them, and the girl was being fairly patient. And then she started talking about things he needs to do with his life and aspects of it he really needs to address.

The guy got defensive and a bit of a whine came into his voice as he began to throw out insults, counters, observations of her, et cetera. She was calm (but emotional) the entire time and while she sometimes humoured him and followed some of the directions he obviously wanted to take their conversation, she never allowed herself to be led far from what she was saying.

The guy had apparently been abused (mentally, emotionally) by a string of his mom's boyfriends when he was younger. This came up from both of them, and how it affected his current life and his dealings with others.

Now, I've never been abused. And the specifics of what they were saying don't match up to anything in my life, but the whole scene was... familiar.

And it came to me that I've been that defensive angry whining guy attack-loving the person he was with while we travelled somewhere. Too often.

When I got off the train, they did too and were walking in front of me continuing their conversation. I kind of wanted to interject with "She's making so much sense dude. You're lucky to have to her, so pull your head out of your ass before you lose her" to him and "You're very patient and empathic, I wish you luck" to her.

But of course I didn't. I did get to see that they were pretty young - she looked like she was still eighteen, and he couldn't have been much older.

I hope they do okay.

When I got to work, there was a guy from the mail room still blasting around the site. He's very friendly and likes to talk a lot, so of course that's what we did. He also likes to slag on my S/S, but he also goes out to dinner with him so that's a bit of a mixed message.

Anyway, I mentioned to him that I told one of the vice presidents of the site that I was going to take him out on the lawn and whip him with a hose, and the mail room guy was appalled. A little context:

The VP seems to be a pretty good guy. We've shared some laughs in the past.

So on the day that everybody got back from their Christmas break, when I saw him outside his office complex in the morning at the end of my shift and he asked if I could let him in because he forgot his card at home, I did but only after making my standard "Okaaaaay, even if you do look pretty suspicious" line. He laughed.

The following day on my initial patrol I found he'd left the blinds open in his office. So I closed them, but he's the guy that got his laptop stolen back in November and which prompted us to have the rocks outside the windows removed, and the policy by which you close your blinds.

So when I saw him that morning, I mentioned "We had a bit of a security breach last night. Someone in [his office complex] left their blinds open."

He leaned in conspiratorily and said "You know what? That was me. I usually leave them closed but I opened them to show someone the view and I guess I never closed them."

So assuming his name is Bob Scratchit, I said to him "That's twice, Scratchit. One more and I'm taking you out on the front lawn and whipping you with a hose."

He laughed. Hands on knees laughed. I don't think there's a problem, do you? :)

Strange, I didn't sniff any glue...

So I wake up a bit late and skip eating so I have time for a shower before I go to work. I arrive hungry and tired.

There's no food to be found on site, other than stale candy bars in the snack machine, which aren't worth the money or essential worthlessness of the food value. So I drink water.

The time simultaneously seems to be flying by (time to patrol again?) and dragging (how come I've done fifteen patrols and it's only a quarter of the way through my shift?).

I feel my balance is tip top, but I'm staggering. Finally, on the second floor, it happens.

I'm moving through the darkened maze of cubicles when my perspective shifts. Things stretch and distort, cubicle walls are made of stone, iron, bubbled black glass. Things skitter at the edges of my perception. There are disturbing noises.

Joining the bike patrol guards in the lobby, their faces are exaggerated and their voices mocking, the leers on their faces made monstrous.

A tiny voice of sanity from withing whispers "Jesus I'm far gone" but is unable to stop me from moving forward and playing my part.

My body seems out of proportion when I move. My belt is too tight and too loose simultaneously. The moat around the front door roils like it's boiling and has the colour of dull lead. The multi-storey glass walls around me tremble and pulsate like I'm within the guts of some huge abomination. Patrol follows patrol follows patrol.

Desperation now.

The patrols aren't to look for anything out of place, they've become a gauntlet through which I have to pass. Something could confront me at any time and I'm not equipped to deal with it, whatever it is.

Time passes...

And I wake up. A little behind, so I have to skip eating to have time for a shower and get to work hungry and tired.

Work isn't so fun that I want a double helping of it by dreaming a full (albeit weird) shift right before I have to actually go to work. Double time, no extra pay. Lame. :P

At least while writing this down I remembered one of my favourite jokes.

Q: How many nihilistic existentialists does it take to change a lightbulb?

A: Two. One to hold the giraffe, and one to fill the bathtub with brightly coloured machine tools.

And at the risk of sounding paranoid (or possibly like a megalomaniac), people have been looking at me a lot the past few days.

From a distance (or when they think I can't see it) they seem to look me up and down, and from closer up they seem to search my face.

It's happened enough than I'm wondering if I was on the news for peeing in some bushes or something. Because every time I check to see if my fly is up, or if I've got something on my face, or that the mark of the beast is properly concealed.

I hope this is just seratonin depletion from all the night work, because it's really creeping me out.

Sort of in line with all of this, the employees at my site seem to be exceptionally friendly with me lately. Many of the women are even a little flirty, if my assessment of such can be trusted. Everybody jokes and smiles and seems to think I'm okay. This also makes me a little suspicious. ;)

I went into the office (my company's) after shift this morning to talk about some scheduled time off, and instead got treated to a monologue about taking a mobile position.

A couple of months ago (I'll put the link in here later when I'm not too lazy too look) I got a call asking if I wanted to go to mobile. I had about 1.5 hours to decide, and I ultimately said no. Well, the same woman who called me about it last time said today (she and our HR director have phenomenal memories) that I never called her back on it. I told her I had and that I'd left a message on her voicemail, since she hadn't been answering.

Anyway, she started trying to pimp it to me again, talking about flexible hours, longer shifts but more time off (twelve hour shifts, and four days on/off followed by three days on/off for seven days work of 84 hours in a pay period) and how awesome it would truly be.

I told her I'd think about scheduling a ride along someday and see how I like it.

But I'm working 96 hours a pay period right now, with two days off in two weeks. I'm not in my prime decision-making mode. Plus, I'm tired all the time with the job - do I really want to drive on top of that? We'll see.

Ah, a new badger entry! Badger Phone. And an inflatable pub, 760 square feet of it ready in six minutes!

How come that person is never on their IM? This guy figured it out - She Freakin' Blocked Me!

And then there's this, which I actually kind of enjoyed. It's an eight minute flash presentation about media from the mid-ninties to 2014. You can't pause it, so get yourself something to drink before you watch here.