The old place is clean! Well, it's at the point where I frankly lost interest in scrubbing. Only one place I've ever rented at actually was fair about returning the damage deposit, and trust me if these guys do the inspection they way they rent apartments (get money, spend none of it) I can probably kiss the deposit good-bye.
On to random encounters. The coffee shop I frequent at lunch is kinda of a old hippy place. Organic three bean salad, recycled paper cups the whole works. Consequently there is a large population of old hippies. Now that's a generation I generally consider to be "ineffective" at this stage of it's life (previous stages being "arrogant", "hypocritical" and "greedy beyond belief").
Since I'm in there nearly every day, I've learned that these folks stand at the food displays they hum and haw, trying to decide between the whole-grain macaroni and macro-biotic cheese and the organically-grown vegetable salad. This can take forever. So when I see this awesome display of total indecision, I jump ahead to the actual line up of people who know what they want ends.
Yesterday at lunch, this situation did indeed occur. There was a couple doing exactly that: waffling about what they wanted. Fortunately (or at least I thought at the time) there was nobody at the till ordering so I naturally went up and ordered my americano.
It was while I was waiting for my brew that I heard someone talking awfully loud at a tome that indicated righteous indignation. I then realized that they were talking to me.
Apparently there was someone standing behind the pair of former hippies. She gave me a little lecture that, in summary, said I was rude for cutting into line. I told here that I didn't see a line, only people deciding what they wanted. She really didn't like that answer. She went on but my coffee was ready so I switched her off.
Now I fully admit that technically I cut in line. But since the line started about ten feet away from where you actually order, I see it as a line in potentia and not a manifest queue. Sure, I felt a little guilty, but that's mitigated by the look of smug, self-righteous, self-satisfaction on the defender social order's face.
So I was totally surprised when a similar situation happened again. This time, it was by a solitary granoloid who happened to be standing right in the frickin' doorway. I had to actually gently move her aside so I could enter the coffee shop. Again, nobody at the counter, just the cute girl who has a smile perfect for starting the day with. I ordered my extra-large medium and proceeded to make my way outside.
The door-stop with the hemp sweater then gave me hell for cutting in front of her. She was barely even in the place to even be in a line. So I just didn't register her existence (I hadn't had my first cup of coffee after all) and walked out.
Apparently I'm a rude boy. Maybe the days of having women tell me I'm "too nice" is over? Doubt it.
Seriously, I consider people who are generally inconsiderate to be, well, inconsiderate. Butting in line is rude, yes, but those who hold up others because they don't know what they want but showed first. Certainly a grey area, but I have no patience for those who think showing up is all they need to do. And they giving flak to those who show up, do what they need to do and move on?
Bark away, folks, I'm too busy getting things done. And sometimes I need coffee to do it.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
Back Online
Third time I've moved in two years, third time my able internet provider screwed up the damn transfer. Three days, no toobs. And of course I have all this stuff I have to do which is so much easier online.
I mean, why leave the house?
And to think I worked for them for eight years. I'm gone eight months and it all goes to pot. Oh wait, it was already there.
Speaking of which, well, I ain't gonna tell ya but I may have good news. I may also have no news since it's that kind of event but I'm all nothing kinda guy and since I can't have it all....
That's about it really. I'm alive, getting some rest, back at the gym, putting off cleaning, geeking out with my minions tomorrow (board games as a "team building exercise") and generally settling into the new digs.
And if the smell of cow shit is an indication, Spring is here!
I mean, why leave the house?
And to think I worked for them for eight years. I'm gone eight months and it all goes to pot. Oh wait, it was already there.
Speaking of which, well, I ain't gonna tell ya but I may have good news. I may also have no news since it's that kind of event but I'm all nothing kinda guy and since I can't have it all....
That's about it really. I'm alive, getting some rest, back at the gym, putting off cleaning, geeking out with my minions tomorrow (board games as a "team building exercise") and generally settling into the new digs.
And if the smell of cow shit is an indication, Spring is here!
Monday, February 18, 2008
Settling In, Settling Down
The move be almost finished. The only things left at the old place are my propane tank and the cleaning supplies. I hope I also left the AC adapter to my speakers and my mic headset as those are not where I thought I put them. I think the box may have opened and either they fell out (and the movers put them in the trash or something) or they were just taken as a "bonus".
The only other casualty was my laundry hamper. Those are cheap and plentiful.
So I'm quite happy with the move. It was quiet on a long-weekend Saturday night so that's the ultimate test passed. The living room is smaller but the trade off is the double-size storage area, a kitchen you can turn around in without hitting something and a view of the city instead of the parking garage. All for $185 a month less. Oh yeah and the gym with the bikini models. Some things you can't put a price on.
Moves are always times when you reassess your stuff. My stuff is, like their owner, getting old, banged up and dilapidatd (the gym will help the owner in that regard). I'm tempted to replace the whole shebang but that can get a tad expensive and I have a new computer to buy in the next couple of months (no, not a Mac Capa). Spore has an official date, I keep hearing rave reviews about Sins of a Solar Empire and, well not much else at the moment but that's at least something.
There may be other changes afoot but I don't want to jinx it. Let's just say there may be a second of the "life changing events" coming up.
And no, a new woman in my life is the third one. But then again, I could go hit the treadmill....
The only other casualty was my laundry hamper. Those are cheap and plentiful.
So I'm quite happy with the move. It was quiet on a long-weekend Saturday night so that's the ultimate test passed. The living room is smaller but the trade off is the double-size storage area, a kitchen you can turn around in without hitting something and a view of the city instead of the parking garage. All for $185 a month less. Oh yeah and the gym with the bikini models. Some things you can't put a price on.
Moves are always times when you reassess your stuff. My stuff is, like their owner, getting old, banged up and dilapidatd (the gym will help the owner in that regard). I'm tempted to replace the whole shebang but that can get a tad expensive and I have a new computer to buy in the next couple of months (no, not a Mac Capa). Spore has an official date, I keep hearing rave reviews about Sins of a Solar Empire and, well not much else at the moment but that's at least something.
There may be other changes afoot but I don't want to jinx it. Let's just say there may be a second of the "life changing events" coming up.
And no, a new woman in my life is the third one. But then again, I could go hit the treadmill....
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Get Me Gone
Well tomorrow is my final day of packing, then I'm outta here! And into a slight variation of "here" costing me about a paycheck but gaining me a good night's sleep so it seems fair all in all.
I'm actually surprised at the dearth (look it up) of crap I have this time around. Oh sure, there's three cubic meteres of Lego, the ten boxes of books and the surpisingly high number of towels I seem to have but they all have their uses and frankly I can't part with any of them. Well, maybe the towels that don't have edges and the odd bleach stain.
As payment for letting him use my vehicle for nefarious purposes (I hope he obscured the license plate) L'il Bro G helped memove in some of the stuff like plants and CDs into the place and commented he liked it better than my current place even though it's bigger. The current place not the new one. I tend to agree and not just because of the reduced noise factor. I tend to get a good "vibe" (or bad one) from an apartment and it's served me in good stead in the past. But because I'm me I tend to distrust those little intuitions and end up making bad decisions. This also extends to things like CD purchases, cars, jobs and girlfriends So I guess the point I'm trying to get at is that I'm going to trust my instincts a bit more.
For example I need to do some work tonight for an appointment I have tomorrow but I am disinclined to do so as I am still stoned from the over-consumption of back-pain medicine taken for my broken (yes I broke it) rib. But my instincts tell me that shrugging this off is a bad idea. Failure to do so will cause me short-term embarrassment and long-term "you fucked up your life"-edness.
But that could also be the drugs talking so who the hell knows?
I'm actually surprised at the dearth (look it up) of crap I have this time around. Oh sure, there's three cubic meteres of Lego, the ten boxes of books and the surpisingly high number of towels I seem to have but they all have their uses and frankly I can't part with any of them. Well, maybe the towels that don't have edges and the odd bleach stain.
As payment for letting him use my vehicle for nefarious purposes (I hope he obscured the license plate) L'il Bro G helped memove in some of the stuff like plants and CDs into the place and commented he liked it better than my current place even though it's bigger. The current place not the new one. I tend to agree and not just because of the reduced noise factor. I tend to get a good "vibe" (or bad one) from an apartment and it's served me in good stead in the past. But because I'm me I tend to distrust those little intuitions and end up making bad decisions. This also extends to things like CD purchases, cars, jobs and girlfriends So I guess the point I'm trying to get at is that I'm going to trust my instincts a bit more.
For example I need to do some work tonight for an appointment I have tomorrow but I am disinclined to do so as I am still stoned from the over-consumption of back-pain medicine taken for my broken (yes I broke it) rib. But my instincts tell me that shrugging this off is a bad idea. Failure to do so will cause me short-term embarrassment and long-term "you fucked up your life"-edness.
But that could also be the drugs talking so who the hell knows?
Saturday, February 09, 2008
That Movin' Groove
Sorry for the lack of update, this one has been busy.
Last weekend, I went skiing with the Social Club at work. Well I say work, but there were about a dozen folks who actually work there who went along about 15 of their friends each. Since these were younger folks, I'd say I was the oldest one there, by about 15 years.
The bus ride up Friday was a drink-fest and I manged to keep up with the young 'uns by downing most of a twenty-six of Stoli. However my "maturity" was evident when they all got up at 7 AM to hit the slopes and I felt like the slope hit me. This would be a theme for the weekend.
It was my first time out this season and frankly my first day was a good imitation of "Bambi": unsteady, moving slow and slipping alot. But fun was had although I did most of the day solo. That's one of things I like about skiing. You can have fun while swooshing on your own. By the end of the day my legs were cramped, which attribute to the hangover more than anything. I think the running from the last few months helped the ol' musculature because the next morning I was in any pain at all.
That night I braked the imbibing a bit. I did get to know my chalet-mates a bit better (pics on my Facebook page) and there's was general merriment. The effect was spoiled by three of the guys I was roomed up with: the Russian Mafia. Never had I been in such close proximity of boys who's egos outstripped their obvious immaturity by so much. I think it goes a long way to explaining why there is such a large amount of womentrying to find husbands outside the former Soviet.
Sunday skiing was better. I was actually able to keep my knees together on occassion and did some one-diamond black runs (no moguls, thank the gods). just before lunch though I had a bit of a fall. Somehow, I turned my velocity into a rotational velocity with my feet as the pivot point. I went down hard on my right size. Fortunatly the ski pole was between me and the patch of ice I hit. I'd say I had bent the pole about, oh, sixty degrees and got a nice impression of my rib cage on it. While I don't think I cracked a rib I still can't sleep on that side. I had forgotten what getting the wind knocked out of you feels like.
I called it a day after that and took pictures.
Today I'm packing up. In one week I go to my smaller and cheaper place. I picked up the keys last week and sort of planned out where I'm going to put stuff. It's going to be a tad crowdd but the storage room is about twice the size I have now so That will help out greatly. The best thing is I went over at about ten PM one night just to listen to what kind of noise I can expect.
Silent as the grave!
The next few days are packing and some preliminary moving. I've engaged movers for next Saturday but since they get paid by the hour I'm moving stuff in a bit at a time. With any luck (and Thursday off) I can get all the boxes over there. It's a faint hope as lifting things right now after my little spill is a tad painful, but I should get the lighter stuff over. I'll save the books for the paid help. The only worry is that when i call to confirm they will have "lost" the reservation as it is actually a long weekend next week.
Okay spell checker is shot, pardon the plethora of typos and poor grammar.
Last weekend, I went skiing with the Social Club at work. Well I say work, but there were about a dozen folks who actually work there who went along about 15 of their friends each. Since these were younger folks, I'd say I was the oldest one there, by about 15 years.
The bus ride up Friday was a drink-fest and I manged to keep up with the young 'uns by downing most of a twenty-six of Stoli. However my "maturity" was evident when they all got up at 7 AM to hit the slopes and I felt like the slope hit me. This would be a theme for the weekend.
It was my first time out this season and frankly my first day was a good imitation of "Bambi": unsteady, moving slow and slipping alot. But fun was had although I did most of the day solo. That's one of things I like about skiing. You can have fun while swooshing on your own. By the end of the day my legs were cramped, which attribute to the hangover more than anything. I think the running from the last few months helped the ol' musculature because the next morning I was in any pain at all.
That night I braked the imbibing a bit. I did get to know my chalet-mates a bit better (pics on my Facebook page) and there's was general merriment. The effect was spoiled by three of the guys I was roomed up with: the Russian Mafia. Never had I been in such close proximity of boys who's egos outstripped their obvious immaturity by so much. I think it goes a long way to explaining why there is such a large amount of womentrying to find husbands outside the former Soviet.
Sunday skiing was better. I was actually able to keep my knees together on occassion and did some one-diamond black runs (no moguls, thank the gods). just before lunch though I had a bit of a fall. Somehow, I turned my velocity into a rotational velocity with my feet as the pivot point. I went down hard on my right size. Fortunatly the ski pole was between me and the patch of ice I hit. I'd say I had bent the pole about, oh, sixty degrees and got a nice impression of my rib cage on it. While I don't think I cracked a rib I still can't sleep on that side. I had forgotten what getting the wind knocked out of you feels like.
I called it a day after that and took pictures.
Today I'm packing up. In one week I go to my smaller and cheaper place. I picked up the keys last week and sort of planned out where I'm going to put stuff. It's going to be a tad crowdd but the storage room is about twice the size I have now so That will help out greatly. The best thing is I went over at about ten PM one night just to listen to what kind of noise I can expect.
Silent as the grave!
The next few days are packing and some preliminary moving. I've engaged movers for next Saturday but since they get paid by the hour I'm moving stuff in a bit at a time. With any luck (and Thursday off) I can get all the boxes over there. It's a faint hope as lifting things right now after my little spill is a tad painful, but I should get the lighter stuff over. I'll save the books for the paid help. The only worry is that when i call to confirm they will have "lost" the reservation as it is actually a long weekend next week.
Okay spell checker is shot, pardon the plethora of typos and poor grammar.
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