Monthly Archives: July 2009

woo!

For something like twelve years I had the privilege of doing my job from a residential condo. If there is any way you can work walking distance to downtown but not be in an office building, I highly recommend it.

A few years ago we merged with a larger firm and moved into the 18th floor of an office building. (part 1 and part2 of that story.) When we moved in, the firm was the only tenant on our floor.

Eventually another tenant moved in. They built a ginormous cube-farm which made me really grateful I’ve haven’t had to work in a cube since the 80’s. Or cube-like area since I don’t know if cubes were invented back then.

The people who moved in were some kind of commercial-financial something and most of the people who worked there were young men with carefully styled hair and shiny shoes who could not be bothered to make eye contact with you if that was the last act to save the world. And they had a couple of receptionists who would look you up and down as if assessing your clothing and overall look. (Ann Taylor Loft 4 seasons ago bitch!) And if you ever tried to say anything to them they’d look at you like they were a famous celebrity and you were a fan so excited to meet them you just threw up on yourself.

For some reason, I thought this was how office building culture worked.

In our new building new tenants just moved in across the hall. They built a ginormous cube farm. They’re also financial something.

Turns out they’re regular looking people and super friendly. At least three of them have stopped by to say hello and ask about what we do and then acted like it was the most amazing job in the world. And the receptionist is awesome and just brought over freshly baked cookies and a sweater she knit for me. Okay, kidding on that last part. I haven’t met him or her yet. But I’m hopeful.

I’ve been pretty grumpy lately. No particular reason just generalized mid-summer grumpiness.

I’m kind-of confused because the newspaper this morning predicted that the heat wave is going to continue only hotter and hotter. Whoever writes the newspaper weather summary seems to think weather is an Olympic sport. He’s always talking about the records we may break or the records we missed. The Internet forecast is hot but much less dire. The discrepancy is making me overly obsessed with the weather.

On the plus side: tomatoes. I have a few that look like they might be thinking of turning red soon. They’ve gone from green to shiny yellow-ish.

Bliss
I erred on an earlier post when I talked about the chocolate coconut milk ice cream that would lead to world peace. That other brand is yummy, too, but it’s this stuff that will make you want to save the world. I saw it when I was shopping this morning and I figured I’d better buy some so I could take a photo and update my story.

* * *

My sweetheart is about 75% recovered from his unfortunate summer pneumonia. He had another doctor appointment this morning and they told him he was on this side of it and just keep taking it easy. He just told me he was going downstairs to watch a German silent film. I said if it was silent, what did it matter what language was in. He sputtered and then threatened to give me a lecture about German film or something. I’m sure he’ll write about it later today.

* * *

It’s sad how much personal responsibility I’m taking for saving the dying newspaper industry. We get two papers delivered to our house seven days a week.

A few months ago Bob asked me if I was ready to give up the Oregonian. I didn’t say no but more like, but we can’t give up on it. In the morning I can hear the delivery vehicle and I don’t think there’s another stop on our street.

However, the Oregonian is getting exponentially more terrible by the day. The majority of the articles are stupid, sound like they were written by a high school journalism class (which is kind of a burn on high school journalism classes, sorry) and generally involve blaming some government entity for everything. Weather. Accidents. Moldy cheese.

In today’s Stupidonian there’s an article about a small child wandering around by herself in the sheriff’s parking lot. An officer saw her and here’s the quote: “his police officer’s instinct kicked in. He stopped the girl, asked her where her mother was and where she was headed.”

His police officer’s instinct. Really? Don’t you think pretty much any human being with a soul would be concerned seeing a small child wandering around a parking lot alone? Wouldn’t that be human instinct? It’s a terrible story, the kid was being abused but that doesn’t make the article any less worthless. Even the caption to the photo is lame. Later the officer “shrug[s] off praise for helping the child.” Isn’t that his freaking job?

Here’s one from a few weeks ago: a guy caught his own identity thief. Yeah, identity theft is awful but there is no hook in this story. It’s like writing a story about your Mom going to the grocery store. “After the meat section, Mom pushed her cart over to produce … .”

Choice quote:
[The victim] had enough. “To be honest with you, I’m the real [Vampire Lestat].” (aside: made up name)
The voice on the other end protested, “No you’re not. I am!” and hung up.

Last item mocking the Oregonian.

The Elks came to town and the article uses 600 words to tell us over and over and over that they were here to spend money.

Choice quote:
Mr. Elk said his wife has gone shopping several times since they arrived Thursday and that the two are considering a tour to Mount Hood. “The Elks spend money when they come to town,” he said.

* * *

I was going to use this morning to clean out the giant overflowing email box of doom but I’ve got an appointment in less than an hour and I haven’t even started yet. Since it’s been so hot I decided to go out and weed the front yard at 7am when it was nice and cool. I moved these rock-brick things in the driveway and totally crunched one of my fingers. That baby is going to be nice and purple tomorrow. Photo to follow.

My Bedroom Agoura 1982

This is my bedroom in 1982. It’s the companion photo to this one

Pretty hip, huh. Like the cool giant pillow recliner?

I haven’t had time to write a good post. It’s not for lack of topics.

Today I think it’s important to share the word on these fabulous ice creams made with coconut milk. They are scary delicious. The chocolate one should be served free everywhere in the interest of world peace.

This is a short version of a long story but I switched from real ice cream to soy ice cream awhile back because I couldn’t pack away a pint in one sitting like I could with the Ben & Jerry’s. (I know that doesn’t really make sense. I don’t know how if there’s a way to explain it.) Since then I got used to non-dairy ice cream. The coconut milk ones I could pack away a pint in one sitting. So I don’t buy it very often.