Definitions

Definitions to help with day-to-day living:

Mockingbird:

Bird that won't shut up no matter what you throw at it

Sewer Monster:

The raccoon butt you see disappearing into the drain system outside your apartment. Now you know what lurks beneath.

Carret:

A cat/ferret mix, of which the only known living example is named Mugwai who lives with me. Not for much longer if she keeps on the way she has been.

Leaf Blower People:

Modern day torturers. They start far too early and even double paned glass doesn't keep them away.

Please submit your own definitions in the comments...

A Theory on the Art of Creepiness

One of my favorite passtimes is to start with a premise, and work out a theory that, to all MY knowledge seems proper and correct.

Creepiness comes in 2 flavors. One is either creepy or a creeper. Being creepy is something you do. A creeper is something you are.

Let me expand.

Let's say you're sitting on a subway, hurtling through the bowels of some big city. (I've never been on a Subway, aside from eating their sandwiches and riding buses. That along with reading about subways makes me pretty near an expert, don't you agree? That's what I thought...)

You're standing by one of those post thingies, holding on for dear life because there aren't any seats available. All of the sudden, a hand that can only belong to the man behind you cops a feel through your gray tailored suit.

Ooowee!! That was creepy! We can therefore say that, in preforming a creepy act, that our man is creepy.

A creeper is different.

Same scenario: You're on the subway, seated this time, and you get a funny feeling. You look over to your left and see a man in a black coat and black felt hat. There's something off about him, but you can't quite put your finger on it.

Maybe later you find out that he is a peeping tom, or that he steals and strokes ladies'....underthings....

But that is not why he's a creeper. Being a creeper is full time. A creeper is necessarily one who performs creepy acts. They can't help it. And it's not the act that tipped you off. You knew instinctively. (If your creep-o-meter isn't malfunctioning...check those batteries folks!)

More extremely rational theories later...

More Life Lessons

The following should quench some thirst until I get my Big Party Weekend notes A) Found and B) Organized:

We'll start off with a few more life lessons with Redgirl. Since I know that all you are running to get pencil and paper for notes, I'll pause for a moment to allow for scurrying.

Ok.

Gather 'round...

First off:

Ginger, while the same color and beginning with the same letter as Garlic, does not taste the same. In fact, no matter how much you add, it still won't taste the same. Instead of having Savory Lamb with Basil Mushrooms, you will have Funky Tasting Lamb with Ruined Mushrooms. And it will be served with a side of Disappointed Taste Buds.

Next Lesson:

If you put a hood on it and it looks like Ted Kaczynski, don't let it in. Furthermore, green plastic bags should not be opened and rifled with unless the rifler is willing to deal with unsavory content.

Let me explain.

Weird old man with thick glasses and big bushy beard was a "walk in" on Sunday. He seemed agreeable, if odd and a bit verbose. I gave him a room. (Which wisely was NOT the Cursed Room...he didn't look harmless enough to take that chance) A few hours later, my maintenance guy (we'll call him "Juan") found a white plastic bag just inside our street entrance door. He brought it up and we both looked at it.

Similar to how you examine a purse for an ID, I felt we should examine the bag. (...and I'm reeelly nosey. This you know) Contents were:

Large bottle of unopened green antiseptic mouthwash

5 Energizer D Batteries (with no devisable thing to use them in)

Full roll of toilet paper, quilted

Green plastic bag with *literature* of some kind in it

A pea green towel (I don't know if it was clean, I wasn't about to sniff it...not THAT curious, folks)

Mystery remained though.

The Green Bag.

As you've probably guessed, it contained things of an adult nature, with an emphasis on young, ethnic, and pierced.

But moving on.

I caught a glimpse that will be seared in my brain for some time, and then Juan and I tied that entire thing up tight. Then we pulled out the hand sanitizer. Then the Lysol wipes for the counter.

I told Juan "I think I know whose it is, I expect him within the hour."

Sure enough, like leopard returning to drag its half eaten bushbuck to a better location, he came back. "I...uh...left a bag by that door over there..." Me: "One moment sir!"

At least, I consoled myself, he was only staying for one night.

Or so I thought.

This all happened Sunday. When I came in for work on Wednesday, I was met by my boss. The first words out of his mouth "Why did you let crazy people in??" followed by "Everyone here hates you right now" and "We thought he was your uncle, because that's the only way we figured you let him in" as well as other things I don't think I'll repeat.

Apparently, he approached everyone and asked if they were a guest or they worked here. (EVERYone) He inquired about the glasses in the room, a la Pen Girl. He terrorized our poor omelet maker so that she couldn't stay at her station. He repeatedly turned up radios and tvs to the point where someone had to go to his room and knock on his door. He proceeded to yell every vulgar and obscene thing in the book through the door. (and the guy who reported that part is probably listed as a contributing author on that book, so he would know)

My response was that maybe I had let him in, but they didn't have to let him stay. (for three days! Three days people!)

Then my boss gifted me with the Ted Kaczynski blurb, which I will keep in my repertoire and use in any situation that remotely calls for it.

Lesson Three:

If a guest reports to you in a jittery and twitchy manner that he's 46 days (exactly) clean from a drug that "makes lines of coke look like sissy stuff", try to avoid prolonged conversation with them. Especially if upon receiving Advil, they tell you they can't swallow pills and find an area to bend over backwards far enough that the pill can drop down their gullet with no help of a swallowing mechanism.

Lesson Four:

If you're a narcissistic boor with the hotel staff, don't expect any real consolation or sympathy when you lose not only your room key, but your government issued phone. If you see a concerned expression, they are probably laughing themselves silly inside. (They also can't wait to tell the rest of the staff)

Lesson Five:

Always make the reservation beFORE you play the squeaky wheel game. Example: I received an email from a woman who could only find Standard King rates online, but no upgraded ones. She also wanted to know special rates for "June Pride Month" (?). Upon inspection of our schedule, I saw we were completely booked for something unrelated. I checked with my boss, and he hopped online and closed the dates out.

Him: Now you can tell her...whatever you want really"

Me: *Evil laughter*

So I email her that she is welcome to make the reservation (knowing full well she can't), and to feel free to call or email that she wants the upgraded room and I would do it...for no cost!

The first part is understandable...to explain that even though there were rooms last time she checked..but there won't be any now is a big difficult, but the latter half was probably a tad gleeful. But see! I was willing to upgrade her! That should make her happy...

Lesson Six:

If you're planning to attend a large event, such as a four year college's graduation, don't call at the last minute and expect to get reservations. I can feel for the people that didn't know there was even a college in town, but the people that are actually coming for the graduation make me a little agog.

Really. Think about the number of people graduating. Their families will have to stay somewhere. Calling anything less than five months ahead means your chance of getting a hotel in a 15 mile radius is less than your spawns chances of getting into the university in the first place. Yeah, so good luck with that.

I've rambled on enough. Mrs. Chatterbox should probably have her own post...

A Helpful Note for Friends, Family, and Flatmates Current and Future

The Redgirl Sleep Phenomenon
or, as Em calls it, "Lies, Lies, All Lies!"

Some of you may know what happens when you need to wake me up for some reason. Probably because you have learned through trial and error. Below is a simple (and useful!) how-to guide to avoid confusion, frustration, and missed appointments to do fun things. Also included or things not to do and their possible results.


1.

When attempting to wake the Redgirl, begin the process before you actually NEED her to be awake. Start with a half an hour.


2.

You can start by saying "Redgirl!" By hearing her name, she will rouse, be beware: what you hear is not necessarily what you get. (this part is what Em calls "lies". I simply call it "perseverance needed") Redgirl does talk in her sleep, and this is not much different. She has been known to have entire conversations with people on the subject of getting up and not remember them.

When she was young and her mother had to get her up for school, Redgirl became very good at yelling "Yes? Of course I'm up!" while being asleep. This allowed her to gain precious minutes of slumber.

If you hear phrases like "just one moment!", "I'm getting up!", "I'll be right out!", or anything similar, Redgirl is probably not awake. Ignore anything she says at this time.
Another thing to avoid is, if there is something planned, to believe her when she says "I've decided not to" or "go on without me". She does not mean it. She will be angry with you when she gets up and will not listen to you excuses.


3.

At this point, you may be ready for confrontation. You might even want to try the old "rip off the covers to shock her into alertness" approach. This is Not a Good Idea. As one particular roommate has discovered, this makes Redgirl mean. Redgirlis not usually mean, but if something were to do it, this would be it.


4.

You now have two options. For these, you need tools. Option one is to call her phone. Redgirl sleeps with her phone next to her ear. She uses the phone as an alarm, but when someone calls, she will answer. And when she answers, she can be reasoned with. Even if you're in the next room, try calling.

5.

If you don't have a phone handy or are unable to use the above method, try the following. Be warned, this is a Last Resort. Invest in a squirt bottle. Fill bottle with cold or icy water. Squirt exposed areas.

This will get results.

You can warn first, if you like. If you have to use this method enough, the barest mention will induce an effect similar to Pavlov's dogs.

Her mother only had to use it once. After that, Redgirl knew she would do it and reacted accordingly.

Having the Boys Over For, Well, Drunken Revelry!

When I do the night audit at work, there generally comes a time in the evenings (mornings rather) that for all the TV shows I've watched, for all the books I've read and coffee consumed, I get restless.

I get the urge to shut down current activities and DO something. Create something.

Anything really.

The night in question produced a short picture story with the main character inspired by my coworker, who in the end we suspect is eaten by an alligator.

Seeing as how I've got another audit coming up, it behooves me to think of new adventures.

While in the booze section of the local Safeway, I decided to get my main character drunk. Bottle of Cabernet in hand (my spaghetti sauce secret ingredient), I was smacked to a halt by the gleaming bottles of 30 proof and above.

Bottles. Clear bottles, tinted bottles. Faceted bottles cut to impress...and lure you into spending more on looks rather than flavor. More alcohol than needed to give TEN woolly mammoths alcohol poisoning.

I needed to ed-u-ma-kate myself. "I shall have him drink whiskey" I murmured, "and he shall get drunk and possibly pass out in a decorative pond and drown."

This garnered me a fully deserved incredulous look and subsequent sidling away from the skinny Asian boy lugging his 2 liter bottle of Smirnoff melon flavored vodka. I hope he plans on getting help to finish that.

Of all the family names, the Whiskey clan is possibly one of the oldest and most respected of Moonshine County. The County of Tequila sometimes tries to best it in the local version of the Olympics, but it's hard for them to train. All they have to work with are deserts and cacti.

Like Jacob and his 12 sons, the four sons of whiskey are Jim, Jack, Johnny, and James(on). This leads me to believe that Whiskey's first name is James. Similar to the vikings, Jameson, as the eldest, took his name from his father. The triplet younger brothers, unable to have this honor, chose for themselves other names.

Jim Bean, Jack Daniels, and Johnny Walker. Mr. Walker was a great triathlete. Unfortunately, his liver went out on him before he got much older than 47. The others took heed of their brother's misfortune and only drank when they had Wild Turkey ;)

I took mental notes. I bought my wine and gently foaming antibacterial melon scented hand soap. All I need add to the mix now is 1)too little sleep, 2) copious amounts of coffee (diluted with half and half to satisfy my calcium/milk requirement), and 3) a certain twist of the mind that can only happen when I'm wearing my magic tie and vest.

Bring it on.

Mowing the Median

Biking to work today, I saw the reason why we have copious "non pesticide vegetation control" signs up all over the bike road. Orange men walked up and down with weed eaters.

So intent! So community oriented! So....

So....

So carefully watched by the man in the black uniform with badge on the shoulder. Not just community spirit, but encouraged community spirit.

Not a bad idea really; everybody wins.

And then I saw them. The females of the orange vested species.

There were two of them. The males seemed to far outnumber the females who in turn sought comfort in the safety of the each other's company.

Hey, if there were eight other guys with powerful and destructive machinery out there and all I had to defend myself was a rubber traffic cone or two...and couldn't run very far....(trust me), then I suppose I would keep trying to put my companion between me and them.

"Redgirl!" I scolded myself, "they probably just got caught littering and are now picking up after other people!"

Then I passed them and heard "He didn't mean to hurt no one but just 'cause he had a gun--"

Wild theories began forming, the story coagulated.

Steve from the hole in the wall coffee shop on ninth had more than a mild crush on SaraLee who worked at WalMart to support her ailing a sofa-bound late husband's mother-in-law. Things stayed pretty constant: SaraLee would catch Steve following her every now and then, but he didn't seem to mean no harm. It felt kinda nice to have someone acting like he cared.

But one day, it wasn't enough.

Roy, who worked at the locally owned nursery, came to pick up a quart of oil for his burnt umber Chevy came through her checkout line. The moment her hand brushed his accidentally at the 20 items or less aisle, she knew he was special. Sure enough, next week he came in at the same time and bought a vehicle interior freshener shaped like a pine tree. "I'm needin' my truck to smell nice," he said. The next week after that, he offered to take her out to coffee and then drive her home.

She agreed.

It was great not riding the bus, as she usually did. Roy offered to help he in with her things, and SaraLee accepted. Halfway up the walk, Steve emerged from the scrub bushes. "SaraLee!" he entreated, "What's gotten into you? You're MY girl!" He picked up the corn ear that had fallen out of her bag. When he held it towards her, Roy felt the testosterone kick in.

"Don't you make a move on her!" He reached inside of the polyester purple windbreaker he sported and SaraLee saw something shiny. Steve the Stalker must have too, because he dove at Roy's legs and knocked him into SaraLee. Her bags went flying everywhere--the tinkle of broken glass and squashing vegetables sharp and wet (respectively) on the concrete.

As the two men struggled, SaraLee watched in stunned awe at the two men fighting over her. Into the melee came Officer Smithyjones. When the two men saw him, they stopped, eyes and flailing limbs stilled. Steve jumped up and limped back into the bushes as if her were in some kind of trouble with the law.

Roy left because he DID have trouble with the law, and possession of that gun was breaking his parole.

SaraLee wrung her hands. "Oh thank you officer, I was so afraid they were going to hurt each other! How did you come in time?"

Officer Smithyjones sighed and nudged the shards of glass with his foot. The biggest one zinged over to hit the box of a sleek green clock radio. "They caught you stealing that clock radio and those now broken champagne flutes on the surveillance cameras." He said "I'm arresting you on the charge of petty theft...you have the right to remain silent..."

Or maybe it was just the littering.

I've got to get to work now, anyways.

The Great Yeti Experiment

I'm posting this for my intro into picking up my blogging again (yay!)

Origins:

After viewing the History Channels "Search for the Yeti" and subsequent hypothesis' on what/where the Yeti might be, I, with the help of a few select others, have come up with a working plan to further the Yeti hoax.

Team Requirements:

The Yeti Experiment requires a very dedicated and talented team. At very minimum, two, although more would be helpful. One member must be a talented geneticist willing bend a few moral laws.

The Experiment:

Person A gets some DNA from the only existing albino gorilla, Snowflake. Grows a test tube gorilla. Another person (b/c the geneticist probably doesn't know the first thing about raising gorillas) raises the beast in a cave up in the mountains of wherever you want your sighting. This lets the gorilla be acclimated. Person B (animal trainer, hopefully) will instill word-linked behaviours. This will allow the gorilla to attack on demand of the handler. Lone hunters can be practiced on and then safely discarded down a nearby deep ravine. At some point right before the growth spurt, surgery will be performed by a possible Person C to make feet mimic the yeti footprint in existence. This is to be done under anesthetic, obviously.

Sightings:

In preparation for the big finale, our Yeti will be spotted by a few of the locals. Persons involved with the experiment will insure that scientists get wind and will aid in forming expedition to look for the Yeti. (Person B will have been letting the Yeti tromp 'round all over the mountains)

Final Experiment:

Person D will lead the expedition to a pre-chosen spot. Meanwhile, Person B will have painted the gorilla's exposed skin black or white...whatever color is most impressive, and then lead it to near the spot chosen. At the signal, the yeti will be directed towards the scientists. The Yeti will be allowed to attack a pack animal, or perhaps a scientist if it seems more dramatic. This will give the scientists time to take pictures. If it has not already attacked a person when Person D feels there have been enough pictures, it will at this point. Person D will be rushed at by the Yeti, and will then shoot it, wounding it severely. It will drag itself off where persons B and a helper, possibly a Person E will throw it into the aforementioned ravine. With the absence of a body, there will be no proof that the Yeti was manufactured. If Persons A,B,C,D, and E residual pangs of morals, they will at this point hold a ceremony at the ravine edge.In the timeless and appropriate words of Lorlor(my letter writing li'l sis):

Lorlor: He was a GOOD yeti

Redgirl: He was a WHITE yeti

Em (still panting): He was a blinking HEAVY yeti!!

Then we cash in on our confirmed yeti sighting with books, movies, documentaries, and Redgirl action figures (with yeti killing action!!)

This brings me to the next section;

Merchandising:

What is the point of a good experiment if you don't make a little something off of it? That's right. Not much. The Yeti, of course, will be the most popular figure complete with light-up eyes and canned roaring noise. The "Redgirl figurine with Yeti killing action will be a close second." Also sold separately are "Frightened Scientist", "Scientist with Camera", "Yeti-ravaged Scientist" and for a limited time, "Scientist Wetting Himself From Fear."

Claim your role NOW!!!