Monthly Archives: November 2004

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I ordered some stuff from Amazon.com the other day. Since it hadn’t arrived yet, I checked their Track Your Package page tonight. It said:

11/26 Received order for processing
11/29 Order shipped from massive warehouse twenty miles from your home
11/30 Order received at enormous processing facility ONE HUNDRED miles from your home

Estimated time of delivery: After everyone at the processing facility has watched your DVD. Maybe sometime before Christmas. Why didn’t you just walk here and pick up your order? It would have taken less time.

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While I don’t generally eavesdrop on conversations The Boss has with people in his office, if the door is open, it’s sometimes hard to miss. Especially if someone starts shrieking and/or crying. The Angry Old Woman stormed in to his office this morning to tell him she was having trouble with her new printer settings, because she couldn’t print to our color printer on the network. I guess she had some personal business to print out, because she could never explain why she needed to print there, instead of to the laser printer on her desk.

He asked her why she couldn’t print to the color printer and she said it didn’t come up as the default printer option. He reminded her that she could switch printers whenever she wanted. She said she does switch printers, but that if she prints something once on the color printer, she wants it to stay as her default printer until she changes it again.

TB: So, what you’re saying is that you aren’t paying attention when the print menu is on your screen?
TAOW: Well, I guess that’s true.
TB: I suggest you start paying attention, then.

She said that it “took too much time” to switch printers on the pull-down menu each time. He told her that she’d already spent “too much time” in his office, complaining about something she already knew she should do.

Talk about your Funky Cold Medina!

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CK needed to talk to The Boss this afternoon, but he was on the phone for a lengthy period of time. She called me to let her know when he was off the phone, so she could go in his office. When I didn’t call her fifteen minutes later, she called me again to check his phone status. He was still engaged in conversation.

CK: Why does he need to be on the phone this long?

Me: I dunno. I’m not eavesdropping on his conversation.

CK: I think I’ll just walk in there and grab his tape measure.

Me: …

CK: …

Me: …

CK: Oh. My. God. No…. No, it’s not what you’re thinking!

Me: …

CK: Don’t put this in your blog, because you’ll slant it towards something euphemistic!

Me: Man, I didn’t even SAY anything!

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I just got an e-mail survey that asked if I’d “participated in a survey about memory loss in the last three months.” Hmmm…. it seems I can’t remember!

Anyway, the other thing I didn’t remember to do was to announce the birth of CK’s new blog, Dark Cygnet. I’d added her to my links on the right, but forgot to say anything to you all. She has promised not to use her blog solely as a platform to repudiate all the stories I tell about her on my own blog. One can only hope.

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I thought I’d go ahead and cook the Thanksgiving meal I didn’t cook yesterday.

The turkey, gravy, dressing and cranberry sauce turned out fine. Today’s cranberry sauce from a can is not to be confused with the whole cranberry sauce I made to take to my brother’s house yesterday. In that case, I discovered that I had no sugar in the house and had to use Splenda instead, because I’d waited until the last minute to cook it, which ruled out a trip to the store.

Today, I managed to burn the sweet potatoes TWICE. I usually fix sweet potatoes purchased from the produce department, but I thought I’d try my hand at the canned version. I read the directions and it said to boil the juice from the can in a saucepan for ten minutes. It didn’t say to walk out of the room and then rush back in when the smoke alarm goes off, so you can find black smoke rolling out of the pan and your kitchen consumed with white fog. I added that detail on my own.

I put the sweet potatoes, sans juice, in a round cake pan and put them in the oven for fifteen minutes to heat them up before I mashed them. Then I artfully arranged marshmallows over the top and set the pan back in the oven so the marshmallows could brown. Fifteen minutes later, I realized they were never going to brown, because the oven was still set to 325 from cooking the turkey. I upped the temperature to 375, then got sidetracked when the phone rang.

Once more the smoke alarm rang out, and once again, I ran in to the kitchen. Good thing the exhaust fan was still on, so that I could see through the fog to get to the oven. I opened the oven door to see Blackened Marshmallow Surprise all over the place. I put the cake pan on top of the burnt saucepan in the sink and let it cool. Interestingly enough, the sweet potatoes from the middle of the pan were very tasty.

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I saw this van on the drive to TBC yesterday. There were several mattress sets and large black garbage bags on top.

It reminded me of this truck that I saw in September.

I guess they though that just throwing a lot of stuff in the back, then “securing” everything with rope, was a good idea.

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Happy Thanksgiving!

In the spirit of the holidays, I decided to take up my brother’s invitation to eat a big meal at his house today.

A couple of weeks ago, Mr. Capp told me his brother invited us out to his house, but that he’d declined, based on the alarming number of cats and screaming babies that appear at all their family gatherings. Then, Dr. Evil called me to invite us out to Mr. Capp’s brother’s house. I told her we’d already declined the offer and had planned to stay home, away from the infectious crowds. She announced that since I would be cooking for Thanksgiving, then she’d just come over to our place.

Uh… no.

To make matters weirder, Mr. Capp went to the doctors’ office and they admitted him to the hospital to treat him for pneumonia. They said he’d be an inpatient through the end of the week. Dr. Evil called me to say I had no reason NOT to show up at Mr. Capp’s brother’s house for Thanksgiving, now that Mr. Capp wouldn’t be there.

Uh… no.

I drove up to The Big City for the 2:00 PM meal. My mother greeted me at the door and loudly announced, “Wow! You look great! You’ve lost so much weight!!” She got her megaphone out to make sure everyone heard her as she kept following me around and saying things like, “How much weight have you lost??” (10,000 pounds was my answer, but it didn’t dissuade her) “Look at how much weight you’ve lost!” and “I can’t believe how good you look!” Seriously, can people not just say that you look nice and leave it at that? No, she poked my dad awake from the big nap he was taking in a chair and loud-whispered, “She’s lost weight!” each time I walked past. She even pulled my sweater up and put her fingers in the waistband of my pants to demonstrate how much room there was.

Fifteen minutes later, my mother pulled me aside and asked, “Why are you so grouchy?” Sigh.

When I left the party, I drove over to the hospital and took Mr. Capp a plate of Thanksgiving food so that he wouldn’t have to settle for the dry turkey sandwich sent from the cafeteria. He said he might get to come home tomorrow, but that they’re keeping him until they know what sort of respiratory infection he had.

I plan on sleeping late and seeing absolutely no one tomorrow. Which is probably what I should have done today.

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It’s time once again for Wednesday Wreck of the Week!

Instead of paying attention to the road, I was taking pictures of this mashed up Toyota. It’s a good thing whoever ran into that car didn’t run in to me, innit?

I figure I’ll see loads of accidents tomorrow on my trip to The Big City, thus ensuring my cache of Wednesday photos through the end of the year.