Just thought I'd share that little nugget of myself.
Enjoy it.
But don't eat it.
I am not a chicken. My nuggets are not edible.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Twinkle Twinkle Little Delusion
A while ago I blogged about reality.
I have since decided I DON'T NEED IT!!!
Really, what can reality possibly accomplish? All it does is depress people. Take, for example, the moment before Washington crossed the Delaware. Reality stated they were a teeny, tiny start up of a nation with a bunch of disorganized troops, and somewhere in there Benedict Arnold betrayed them. [Historian's note - the Delaware crossing was December of 1776 - Arnold's plot to betray the Continental Army wasn't uncovered until September of 1780.] They were in dire circumstances! They had absolutely nothing to hope for.
What did Washington do?
Did he walk up to his army and say, "Alright guys, we just had a really humiliating defeat and retreat, and we're disorganized and I'm super fed up with you all, and really not sure if we can do this. Let's cross the Delaware in a logistically difficult move and attack Trenton"?
No! Of course not!
He dragged Thomas Payne to the front of his armies to recite some beautiful prose he had written and make them feel all fluffy inside. THEN he told them, "Let's cross the Delaware in a sure to be successful, albeit difficult move, and take Trenton!!!"
Or better yet, the Brooklyn Bridge! When the guy who designed the Brooklyn Bridge, John Roebling, kicked the bucket from tetanus, his kid, Washington, kept the project up! What did reality say? The bridge designer is dead. Nobody has ever built a bridge this size. You don't have the technology to do this. But he kept at it! Then he got some really bad sickness that left him paralyzed. In a fit of true love, his wife learned math for him, and supervised the project.
Then came a new reality. The bedrock he was supposed to be anchoring the bridge in was too thick to drill through.
Did he accept reality?
Did he let go of the dream, accept that it had been the dream of his dead father and proof that paralyzed people could do great things, but nothing more than a dream?
No!
He threw reality out the window and decided that the rocks on top of the bedrock would be enough to anchor the bridge!!! And look! The Brooklyn Bridge has yet to fall down!
And while we're on bridges, when London Bridge was falling down, did the people just take the key and lock her up? Perhaps, but they still had enough faith to personify a lump of crumbling rock on a river as a fair lady.
So today we learn that there is no reason in this beautiful universe to accept reality. Believe in whatever the heck you want the universe to be.
And really, the universe is truly beautiful!
^_^
That ^ is a happily delusional smiley, in case you were wondering.
I have since decided I DON'T NEED IT!!!
Really, what can reality possibly accomplish? All it does is depress people. Take, for example, the moment before Washington crossed the Delaware. Reality stated they were a teeny, tiny start up of a nation with a bunch of disorganized troops, and somewhere in there Benedict Arnold betrayed them. [Historian's note - the Delaware crossing was December of 1776 - Arnold's plot to betray the Continental Army wasn't uncovered until September of 1780.] They were in dire circumstances! They had absolutely nothing to hope for.
What did Washington do?
Did he walk up to his army and say, "Alright guys, we just had a really humiliating defeat and retreat, and we're disorganized and I'm super fed up with you all, and really not sure if we can do this. Let's cross the Delaware in a logistically difficult move and attack Trenton"?
No! Of course not!
He dragged Thomas Payne to the front of his armies to recite some beautiful prose he had written and make them feel all fluffy inside. THEN he told them, "Let's cross the Delaware in a sure to be successful, albeit difficult move, and take Trenton!!!"
Or better yet, the Brooklyn Bridge! When the guy who designed the Brooklyn Bridge, John Roebling, kicked the bucket from tetanus, his kid, Washington, kept the project up! What did reality say? The bridge designer is dead. Nobody has ever built a bridge this size. You don't have the technology to do this. But he kept at it! Then he got some really bad sickness that left him paralyzed. In a fit of true love, his wife learned math for him, and supervised the project.
Then came a new reality. The bedrock he was supposed to be anchoring the bridge in was too thick to drill through.
Did he accept reality?
Did he let go of the dream, accept that it had been the dream of his dead father and proof that paralyzed people could do great things, but nothing more than a dream?
No!
He threw reality out the window and decided that the rocks on top of the bedrock would be enough to anchor the bridge!!! And look! The Brooklyn Bridge has yet to fall down!
And while we're on bridges, when London Bridge was falling down, did the people just take the key and lock her up? Perhaps, but they still had enough faith to personify a lump of crumbling rock on a river as a fair lady.
So today we learn that there is no reason in this beautiful universe to accept reality. Believe in whatever the heck you want the universe to be.
And really, the universe is truly beautiful!
^_^
That ^ is a happily delusional smiley, in case you were wondering.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
I think too much.
What is reality? Is it something we make, or is it something that just is?
If we TRY to make reality what we want it to be, can we succeed? Or will we find out 25 years later that the last 25 years have been a painful delusion - a disappointed & useless hope - and everything we ever wanted just plain isn't?
Is reality something we find or something we make?
Or something we decide we'll take?
If we TRY to make reality what we want it to be, can we succeed? Or will we find out 25 years later that the last 25 years have been a painful delusion - a disappointed & useless hope - and everything we ever wanted just plain isn't?
Is reality something we find or something we make?
Or something we decide we'll take?
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Miscommunication is Key
Dear Beloved Person,
You know how we had that big miscommunication about me booking you a flight out of Jacksonville at 11:30 am, and you telling me a week later that you weren't coming into Jacksonville until after 2:00 pm?
Well... I just wanted to say thank you. I've never felt so needed, so wonderful, so appreciated! And just to make sure there are no further miscommunications between us, let me tell you just what you have done for me.
1.) Your sweet attitude reminds me of an innocent 5 year old. Many a beautiful memory of mine involves babysitting, and you have taken me back to the days of macaroni and cheese that isn't good enough because it doesn't have hot dogs in it.
2.) How did you know I'm a big history buff??? Your treatment of me takes me me back a century and a half. Pre-abolition. While I can never truly appreciate the ins and outs of slavery, this must be at least a small piece of what it feels like to be there for the sole pleasure of a master's every whim.
3.) Even though we had a miscommunication about your flights, thank you for emailing me at least twice every day about the same things and ignoring my responses when I answer your questions. Nevermind that I've assured you three times already that yes, I will copy your upline on the email about your hotel reservations, and nevermind that I told you they wouldn't be done for several days because of difficult communication with Singapore. When all is said and done, your emails and emails and emails make sure I know what your specific preferences are. Because, of course, we wouldn't want you to, you know, forward your hotel reservation on to your upline. That would take far too much effort.
4.) And finally, when you are emailing me further instructions, thank you for never using complete sentences. It's a real mental challenge for me to figure out if "depart Charlotte" means you are going to book a ticket from Charlotte to Jacksonville or if I am supposed to be booking you out of Charlotte instead of Jacksonville. It's like Sudoku. I get all giddy in the face of these brain teasers. Really, that miscommunication must have been my fault. I failed the brain teaser you gave me.
I hope I've said it enough, but just in case, THANK YOU!!! If you'd like, I can send UPS to your home to pick up your tiara so I can polish it for you. Just say the word!
Love,
Somebody Else's Assistant That You Treat Like Your Slave
You know how we had that big miscommunication about me booking you a flight out of Jacksonville at 11:30 am, and you telling me a week later that you weren't coming into Jacksonville until after 2:00 pm?
Well... I just wanted to say thank you. I've never felt so needed, so wonderful, so appreciated! And just to make sure there are no further miscommunications between us, let me tell you just what you have done for me.
1.) Your sweet attitude reminds me of an innocent 5 year old. Many a beautiful memory of mine involves babysitting, and you have taken me back to the days of macaroni and cheese that isn't good enough because it doesn't have hot dogs in it.
2.) How did you know I'm a big history buff??? Your treatment of me takes me me back a century and a half. Pre-abolition. While I can never truly appreciate the ins and outs of slavery, this must be at least a small piece of what it feels like to be there for the sole pleasure of a master's every whim.
3.) Even though we had a miscommunication about your flights, thank you for emailing me at least twice every day about the same things and ignoring my responses when I answer your questions. Nevermind that I've assured you three times already that yes, I will copy your upline on the email about your hotel reservations, and nevermind that I told you they wouldn't be done for several days because of difficult communication with Singapore. When all is said and done, your emails and emails and emails make sure I know what your specific preferences are. Because, of course, we wouldn't want you to, you know, forward your hotel reservation on to your upline. That would take far too much effort.
4.) And finally, when you are emailing me further instructions, thank you for never using complete sentences. It's a real mental challenge for me to figure out if "depart Charlotte" means you are going to book a ticket from Charlotte to Jacksonville or if I am supposed to be booking you out of Charlotte instead of Jacksonville. It's like Sudoku. I get all giddy in the face of these brain teasers. Really, that miscommunication must have been my fault. I failed the brain teaser you gave me.
I hope I've said it enough, but just in case, THANK YOU!!! If you'd like, I can send UPS to your home to pick up your tiara so I can polish it for you. Just say the word!
Love,
Somebody Else's Assistant That You Treat Like Your Slave
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Happy Customer Service Appreciation Week!!!
Every now and then, people crack.
This is known to happen among the customer service profession. You get that one customer... that one completely awful jerk who just pushes all your wrong buttons... while your supervisor is penning up an essay to you on how you can improve your dismal sales... while your coworker throws grapes at your head. Day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year... until one day...
CRACK.
Today, when Hal came in dressed in Zebra-spandex leggings, a T-Shirt with a Superman-esque "H" drawn on, a red diaper outside his leggings and a cape, I feared for my life. Hal is a supervisor. He doesn't even have to deal with the customers.
For a brief moment, curiosity overcame my fear. What could possibly have caused a supervisor to suffer a complete mental break??? I got up from my desk... my wonderful, non-customer-service desk on the other side of the corporate office, faaaaar away from the customers... and ventured into my old grounds. Many a torturous day had been spent there, attempting to convince customers that we really were sorry UPS broke their package, and no they would not have to pay return shipping, and yes we would get that replacement out to them as quickly as possible, and for Pete's sake, stop throwing a tantrum! Holy cow, it's still within our promised 10 days, and I am not part of a conspiracy to take your money and not give you your product! Grow up!
I deliberately avoided my old desk. No need to bring those memories back. Instead I wandered to the side where Hal sits. There he was, in all his diapered and caped glory. All I could think was, "Wow, for being so big under that cape, those zebra pants sure make his legs look trim."
But then I saw Ryan. Ryan is Hal's boss. He had his hair dyed orange, a straw hat, a fake handle-bar mustache and a fur coat that went to his knees.
Claudio, the training supervisor, was in the process of ridding himself of a sumo suit. Everyone was calling him cheap and telling him he had to wear it all day.
Craig, Ryan's boss, was dressed as a "sweat pants cowboy." I don't really even know what that is, but somehow he managed to do it.
Carma, my old supervisor came by. She always looks fantastic - long, blonde hair styled perfectly, makeup perfect, clothes the pinnacle of style and designed just right for her body type. She had her hair in curlers, a dumpy, floral dress and apron, lines drawn into her forehead and around her eyes, 80's-hooker eye makeup, and topped it off with a rolling pin as an accessory.
Then there was Tylor, the schedule guy.
He was a banana.
Apparently, they all cracked.
Jeff and Steve had accompanied me on my jaunt through the customer service department. As Jeff took in Tylor's banana suit, he felt compelled to offer a compliment.
"Wow, Tylor. That suit is very apeeling."
Tylor shrugged. "Thanks! Hal told me earlier there was no way I could top his diaper. I told him that Depends."
Oh geez.
I snapped a couple pictures, then made my way back to my desk as quickly as I could. If insanity is contagious, I had to get out of the customer service department post haste. I know I'm safe here.
At least... for now.
This is known to happen among the customer service profession. You get that one customer... that one completely awful jerk who just pushes all your wrong buttons... while your supervisor is penning up an essay to you on how you can improve your dismal sales... while your coworker throws grapes at your head. Day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year... until one day...
CRACK.
Today, when Hal came in dressed in Zebra-spandex leggings, a T-Shirt with a Superman-esque "H" drawn on, a red diaper outside his leggings and a cape, I feared for my life. Hal is a supervisor. He doesn't even have to deal with the customers.
For a brief moment, curiosity overcame my fear. What could possibly have caused a supervisor to suffer a complete mental break??? I got up from my desk... my wonderful, non-customer-service desk on the other side of the corporate office, faaaaar away from the customers... and ventured into my old grounds. Many a torturous day had been spent there, attempting to convince customers that we really were sorry UPS broke their package, and no they would not have to pay return shipping, and yes we would get that replacement out to them as quickly as possible, and for Pete's sake, stop throwing a tantrum! Holy cow, it's still within our promised 10 days, and I am not part of a conspiracy to take your money and not give you your product! Grow up!
I deliberately avoided my old desk. No need to bring those memories back. Instead I wandered to the side where Hal sits. There he was, in all his diapered and caped glory. All I could think was, "Wow, for being so big under that cape, those zebra pants sure make his legs look trim."
But then I saw Ryan. Ryan is Hal's boss. He had his hair dyed orange, a straw hat, a fake handle-bar mustache and a fur coat that went to his knees.
Claudio, the training supervisor, was in the process of ridding himself of a sumo suit. Everyone was calling him cheap and telling him he had to wear it all day.
Craig, Ryan's boss, was dressed as a "sweat pants cowboy." I don't really even know what that is, but somehow he managed to do it.
Carma, my old supervisor came by. She always looks fantastic - long, blonde hair styled perfectly, makeup perfect, clothes the pinnacle of style and designed just right for her body type. She had her hair in curlers, a dumpy, floral dress and apron, lines drawn into her forehead and around her eyes, 80's-hooker eye makeup, and topped it off with a rolling pin as an accessory.
Then there was Tylor, the schedule guy.
He was a banana.
Apparently, they all cracked.
Jeff and Steve had accompanied me on my jaunt through the customer service department. As Jeff took in Tylor's banana suit, he felt compelled to offer a compliment.
"Wow, Tylor. That suit is very apeeling."
Tylor shrugged. "Thanks! Hal told me earlier there was no way I could top his diaper. I told him that Depends."
Oh geez.
I snapped a couple pictures, then made my way back to my desk as quickly as I could. If insanity is contagious, I had to get out of the customer service department post haste. I know I'm safe here.
At least... for now.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Life is Risky
I got my Health Evaluation Results today. It's some thing my work does every year where they stab you in the arm, laugh maniacally as you bleed, and try to convince you they're "testing" your blood. If your blood makes them laugh maniacally enough, you get a discount on your health insurance.
They took my blood back in November or something like that. Now, almost a year later, they sent me a booklet with the results that I looked up online 1 month after the fact.
My results gave three warnings. THREE!!! Can you BELIEVE it? I'm going to die. I know I am. Slowly. Painfully. It'll probably take close to 60 years, it'll be so slow and painful. All because I had 3 warnings show up from my blood results.
What's wrong with me?
Well, let me tell you.
1.) My TSH (Thyroid Stimulating Hormone) was ... gasp!... NORMAL!!!!
However, and I quote, "It is estimated that ten percent of all Americans will eventually develop a thyroid abnormality by the age of fifty. Therefore [they] recommend periodic thyroid testing in the future." Since it's virtually impossible for me to be included in the 90% of all Americans who won't eventually develop a thyroid abnormality by the age of fifty, I am clearly at a high risk for future complications.
2.) My blood test showed a slightly elevated iron level.
NOOOO!!! I have too much iron! "High iron levels are most commonly seen with high intake of iron rich foods and/or excessive use of iron supplements." Do you hear that? Do you know what that means? It's basically a scientific confirmation of the little saying, "You are what you eat." And apparently I eat too much iron. Therefore, I am iron! I am going to become completely made of iron, and look like Victor VonDoom. Or, on a more optimistic note, I may become Iron Ma- ... Woman. Iron Woman. Iron Female? Iron Lady? Irony?
Ahem.
Anyways...
3.) And this is the worst of all, I am at a high risk for sleep apnea while lying down to rest in the afternoon. Not at all when sitting quietly after a lunch without alcohol, or while stopped for a few minutes in traffic. In fact, I'm at no risk at all while sitting and talking to someone, and only a low risk while watching TV. But give me a nap in the afternoon, and that latent sleep apnea is sure to crop up!
When all is said and done, only one conclusion can be drawn from my blood. I am at high risk for being alive, which therefore puts me at high risk of eventual death.
How will I ever survive the next 60 years?
They took my blood back in November or something like that. Now, almost a year later, they sent me a booklet with the results that I looked up online 1 month after the fact.
My results gave three warnings. THREE!!! Can you BELIEVE it? I'm going to die. I know I am. Slowly. Painfully. It'll probably take close to 60 years, it'll be so slow and painful. All because I had 3 warnings show up from my blood results.
What's wrong with me?
Well, let me tell you.
1.) My TSH (Thyroid Stimulating Hormone) was ... gasp!... NORMAL!!!!
However, and I quote, "It is estimated that ten percent of all Americans will eventually develop a thyroid abnormality by the age of fifty. Therefore [they] recommend periodic thyroid testing in the future." Since it's virtually impossible for me to be included in the 90% of all Americans who won't eventually develop a thyroid abnormality by the age of fifty, I am clearly at a high risk for future complications.
2.) My blood test showed a slightly elevated iron level.
NOOOO!!! I have too much iron! "High iron levels are most commonly seen with high intake of iron rich foods and/or excessive use of iron supplements." Do you hear that? Do you know what that means? It's basically a scientific confirmation of the little saying, "You are what you eat." And apparently I eat too much iron. Therefore, I am iron! I am going to become completely made of iron, and look like Victor VonDoom. Or, on a more optimistic note, I may become Iron Ma- ... Woman. Iron Woman. Iron Female? Iron Lady? Irony?
Ahem.
Anyways...
3.) And this is the worst of all, I am at a high risk for sleep apnea while lying down to rest in the afternoon. Not at all when sitting quietly after a lunch without alcohol, or while stopped for a few minutes in traffic. In fact, I'm at no risk at all while sitting and talking to someone, and only a low risk while watching TV. But give me a nap in the afternoon, and that latent sleep apnea is sure to crop up!
When all is said and done, only one conclusion can be drawn from my blood. I am at high risk for being alive, which therefore puts me at high risk of eventual death.
How will I ever survive the next 60 years?
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