One of Those Weeks

This past week has been a draining one, physically, mentally and emotionally. I've sat down at the keyboard countless number of times the past few days to write something, anything, but ended up staring open-mouthed, dumbfounded, at the blinking cursor, unable to think of a blasted thing to write. I think I even drooled a little bit. Either that or I have a leaky roof to fix. Great.

The main bane of my week has been work. We've been trying to install a new automation system to run most of our on-air hardware for more than a year now. This week the higher-ups decided that come hell or high water, we were going to put that system on the air. Lots of bad things happened and I spent a lot of extra time at work "training", time that I could have been Christmas shopping, hanging lights, or, oh yeah, spending time with my family. These "training" sessions consisted mostly of standing around with arms crossed, watching engineers and system techs scratch their heads in wonder as to why things weren't working combined with several choice expletives.

This was the second time I've been "trained" on this system. The first training session took place way back in February when they were working some of the bugs out of the system. That training went mostly like this: "Well if the system worked, this thingy would do this," or "Now if you encounter this problem, you would do this, if the system were up and running, that is." So basically I spent my days off in a retraining refresher course on a system that should have been up and running ten months ago. And this weekend I have been running solo on this system that was declared "functional" at approximately 5:00 pm on Friday, or quitting time for those 9 to 5er's.

At about 9:00 on Friday night, Diane called me to tell me that the van wouldn't start due to a dead battery. She was at her folk's house and her dad was able to jump start the van so she could make it home, but that meant that I was up early Saturday morning getting the battery replaced. I white knuckled it all the way to Sears Automotive Center as I watched the dashboard digital display blink on and off with every bump in the road. I made it there without incident and later discovered that my Die Hard Gold battery was still under prorated warranty (of course, I missed the full replacement warranty by two months), so I only paid $30 for the new battery. That's the best news I had all week.

And to cap it all off, this morning as I stepped out of the shower I counted no fewer than four grey hairs...on my chest. It's bad enough to have grey on my head, but my chest?

Oh, yes, there will be drinking tonight.

Extreme Makeover...Christmas Tree Edition

This afternoon, Diane made our annual traditional trek to Home Depot to pick out the perfect Christmas tree. It was nearly 80° outside. Yes, Tucson's cold spell snapped over the weekend. There's something very wrong about picking out a Christmas tree when you're wearing shorts, t-shirt, and flip-flops, which I wasn't, but I easily could have. There's also something very wrong about picking out your tree at Home Depot, but for some odd reason we've made it a tradition and we're sticking to it.

Our customer service experience at the Christmas Tree Depot was the polar opposite of last year. Last year we were greeted by an attendant on the lot who immediately showed us the perfect tree. We were in and out of there in about ten minutes. This year we were greeted by no one and spent about 25 minutes picking through the 7-8' nobles. I found a beautiful 9-footer that would have been perfect, but it was $30 more than the 8-footers. Thirty bucks for an extra foot? I don't think so. I pulled about ten trees out for Diane to inspect, and by the second one I wished that I was wearing shorts, t-shirt and flip flops instead of my long sleeved shirt and jeans: I was sweating like a pig. Wait, pigs don't sweat. I was sweating like a hooker in church.

We finally settled on a tree we liked, and I hauled it up to the checkout shed where a man looking eerily familiar to Santa Claus sawed off the end and shoved the tree through one of those net things. He and another guy tossed the tree on top of our van then gave me some string. I guessed I would be tying the tree on myself. So much for customer service.

We got the tree home and into the stand without incident...for a change. Some of the lower branches were going to need trimming, but no big deal. Diane went to pick up the girls from school and I retrieved some clippers from the garage to give the tree a little grooming TLC. The main problem area was a clump of branches on the bottom of the tree. But as soon as I sat down and investigated the clump I realized that I was in deep ca-ca. Several of the lower branches had been broken, presumably when the tree was run through the netting machine. If I cut them off entirely, I'd have a large bare area at the bottom of the tree, on the good side. Crap! Crap! Crap!

After weighing my options, I decided to do a little cosmetic surgery, MacGyver style. I went back out to the garage, grabbed some string, and returned to the tree to jerry-rig the broken branch to another higher branch. It held the branch there perfectly. Disaster averted...for now. Now I just need to keep an eye on it and hope it doesn't dry out too quickly, otherwise I'll be forced to, gulp, amputate. Oh well, better that I cut off one branch and stare at a glaring, ugly bald spot than for the whole house to go up in flames. Perspective is everything.

Revenge, Montezuma-Style

We had Thai for dinner tonight, and I really need to use the facilities right now. The problem is that each of our two bathroom's bathtubs are currently occupied by little girls playing with various toys and supposedly washing their bodies. So while I sit here and suffer, writing furiously in a vain attempt to take my mind off of the attack storming the sphincter gates, the girls are splish-splashing and having the time of their lives. If they don't hurry up, there'll be a whole 'nother kind of splish-splashing going on.

Then it occurred to me, "Just go...they do it to you ALL THE TIME!"

Yeah, they do, don't they.

It's true. Whenever I'm in the bathroom getting ready, one of the girls will come storming in and, in one fluid motion, the lid goes up, the pants hit the floor, and they plop down on the pot.

"Why don't you go use the other bathroom? You know, the one that I'm not in?"

"But Daaa-aad, I like this bathroom."

"You're not going to poop, are you?"

"No, I don't think so."

Fart noises echo in pot.

"OK, maybe I do need to go poop."

I then let out an exasperated cry and flee for my life. It happens all the time and it doesn't matter which daughter. They are both equally oblivious.

So maybe tonight I'll teach them a little lesson in bathroom etiquette. See how they like it when their old man comes in during bath-time and takes a Thai-laden dump mere inches away from where they're bathing. Perhaps after tonight the other bathroom won't look so bad.

Oops. Gotta go.

Stop...AND SMELL THE ROSES, BABY!!

WE'RE GOING TO THE ROSE BOWL, BABY!!

Illinois needed a lot of help to get to smell the roses, and they got all of it during yesterday's choke-o-rama choke-fest.

#1 Missouri and #2 West Virginia would control their National Championship destiny with wins. Choke. Choke. Both lost and made a mess of the BCS. Ohio State and LSU backed into the title game with LSU leap-frogging unbeaten Hawaii and one-loss Kansas. I frickin' hate the BCS. Let the teams decide their fate on the field.

I'll take it easy on #11 Boston College and #14 Tennessee as they were underdogs against #6 Virginia Tech and #7 LSU. Choke is too strong of a word. They both lost and Illinois climbed a couple more spots in the BCS standings to #13, and a Rose Bowl date vs. #7 USC.

Yesterday, one of my co-workers asked me if I'd rather Illinois go to the Rose Bowl and get crushed by USC or go to the Capital One Bowl and beat Florida. Basically, he was asking me if I'd rather win a bowl game against a "lesser" team or lose one to a "better" team. I told him I didn't see it that way. I'm not trying to knock Florida because they're a great team, the defending National Champs, but USC is the premiere program in the country and I'd like to see Illinois take a shot at them. It would further strengthen our football program and Ron Zook's already stellar recruiting if we could come away from Pasadena with a win.

New Year's Day, baby...I'll try not to get too liquored up.

And I'll stop saying "baby"...sorry about that.

Free Coffee or a Kick in the Head...I'll Have Both, Please

Today I received yet another free coffee from Starbuck's. Usually I'm thrilled when such fortune shines it's friendly face upon me, but today I was just grateful because coffee goes great with humble pie. All the better to choke it down with.

Two days ago, as I do on most every day before I go to work, I drove through the Starbuck's drive through and ordered my venti breve coffee (that's a large coffee with cream for you uninitiated). I pulled through to the window where I was greeted by a familiar barista. "Did we mess up your order yesterday?" she asked.

"No," I laughed. "I don't think you've ever messed up my order."

"That's weird," she said with her face all scrunched up. "After you came through yesterday we found a venti coffee sitting here and we didn't know who ordered it. We thought we must've given you the wrong order."

"No, my order was fine."

Another barista joined her at the window. "See I told you it wasn't my fault," he joked as he handed me a coupon. "Here, take this anyway. You're a cool guy."

The coupon, used by baristas as recompense for shoddy service, was for a free beverage of choice. The barista was none other than Obnoxious Starbuck's Guy, the kid I lambasted in a post two weeks ago. Right then I felt like anything but a cool guy. I felt like a two-faced jerk. But free Starbuck's coffee is free Starbuck's coffee, so I thanked him, took the coupon, and went on my way. Then I waited a whole two days to use it, you know, as a penance for my scathing tongue. Yeah, it would have been a better penance to throw or give the coupon away, but, hey, free Starbuck's coffee is free Starbuck's coffee. Never look a gift barista in the mouth, or in the eyes for that matter, especially after burying a knife in his back.

Yes, I do realize how much I suck.