M had art tonight (vs. Monday due to the MLK holiday) so I picked her up on the way home from the gym. She really seems to be enjoying it, although we never really thought she wouldn't seeing as she loves drawing. Tonight they did shading with black and white. They'll start working on shading with color next week. The instructor mentioned that M is doing very well and she's quite impressed with her skill set. Apparently M's school provides a lot more art instruction than the local public school does. I guess that's one benefit of sending her to parochial school.
I had to hurry out the door to the gym and tossed on my fleece. It was a little tight for me, but I figured it was just because D had washed it recently. When I took it off later on, I checked out the label to see what the care instructions were. I looked at the size tag after seeing the recommended washing/drying instructions indicate nothing out of the ordinary. I was shocked when it read: Y 14/16! WTF? I could've sworn I bought an adult medium.
Going off on a tangent, have you noticed how clothes are getting larger while the tags are getting smaller? I don't mean the physical properties of the tag, but the article itself. I have a few shirts in my closet that are Large, yet they're billowing on me. Five years ago, these would be labeled XL, but now they're L. I guess it's just another sign that we as a society are getting fatter. Hey, why not call a spade a spade and label the shirt XXL vs.XL. Or would that hurt their fragile self-esteem?
Anyway, I finally figured out what happened to the fleece: When Doug and Nancy were up a few weeks back, Micheal took my fleece and I took his. Case closed. Now I just need to swap them before his (mine) gets shipped off to St. Vincent's.
We dropped the car off...again. This time it's should be fixed for good. As I said the other day, the wheel bearing needs to be replaced. It shouldn't take that long, but with the satellite guy coming tomorrow morning, we went ahead and dropped it off tonight and will pick it up tomorrow afternoon.
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Friday, January 25, 2008
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Day 92 - 05/23/2007
We were supposed to go to a customer site on 05/24, but, as of 430p this afternoon, it doesn't look like that's going to happen. As a condition of our visit, the on-site person was supposed to have run some jobs (that take up to 10 hours to complete). I sent the files necessary to run the job 10 days ago and he's just now getting around to run them. (We've had this on the calendar for the past 10 days.) So, more than likely, the visit won't take place (not that I was expecting it to take place...the track record of this guy just doesn't support it).
After work I continued to work on the deck. Right now I'm about 2/3 of the way done w/ the railing and spindles (which is the bulk of the work as it's somewhat detailed -- vs. the floor where all you need to do is spray it on and roll it off). Hopefully I'll have this wrapped up by the weekend so I can check it off my task list. That being said, even though it's not done yet, the deck looks much better than it did before I started staining it. (The previous owner didn't believe in washing the deck, only applying a clear seal every year, which caused it to turn a dingy gray over the years.)
Since the kids were ready for bed earlier than usual, I went ahead and read them two chapters from Narnia. We're approaching the last chapters and, like with most books, the closer you get to the end, the more you want to finish it. Actually, I'm really looking forward to getting the book done with so we can watch the movies. (D bought the box set from the BBC.) M has already seen the most recent version of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, but I'm guessing that'll be a bit violent for N. Although I edited the book as I've read it (e.g., changing "to kill" into "to take" and "ass" to "donkey"), for the most part, I've ready it pretty much as written. I think that while N is only five, having the story read to him and letting him use his imagination to fill in the pictures is much less intense than having the battle scenes and the violence that will accompany them plastered on the screen.
I'll finish this post off with a little joke to brighten your day:
There was a guy who loved fish and chips so much that he decided to take a tour of England, documenting the best places to find fish and chips. Once the tour was over, he would publish his findings as a travel guide.
He drove all over England, eating fish and chips and taking copious amounts of notes. One day, nearing the end of his trip, he stopped in a pub in a small town and shared his story with some of his fellow patrons. All agreed that for the best fish and chips, he should go to the monastery just outside town. They served the best fish and chips in all of England.
The next day, the guy headed out to the monastery and knocked on the front door. When the abbot answered, the man explained the purpose for his visit and was immediately invited in for a meal. The abbot seated him at their dining table and told him he'd be back shortly.
After 10-15 minutes, the abbot returned with a large plate of fish and chips. He served the man and when he tried them, he had to agree with the folks in the pub: These were the best fish and chips in all of England. Wanting to express his enthusiasm with the cook, he insisted that he meet whoever was responsible for the meal.
The abbot went back into the kitchen and a couple minutes later came out with another man of the cloth.
"These are the best fish and chips I've ever tasted," the man exclaimed to the cook. "And I've tasted quite a bit on the travels throughout England! You should be proud of yourself!"
"Oh, I can't take all the credit," the cook responded, "I didn't cook the entire meal."
"Well, then, where is your partner?" the writer asked.
"Right here," the monk answered, pointing to the abbot. "He's the fish friar, and I'm the chip monk."
After work I continued to work on the deck. Right now I'm about 2/3 of the way done w/ the railing and spindles (which is the bulk of the work as it's somewhat detailed -- vs. the floor where all you need to do is spray it on and roll it off). Hopefully I'll have this wrapped up by the weekend so I can check it off my task list. That being said, even though it's not done yet, the deck looks much better than it did before I started staining it. (The previous owner didn't believe in washing the deck, only applying a clear seal every year, which caused it to turn a dingy gray over the years.)
Since the kids were ready for bed earlier than usual, I went ahead and read them two chapters from Narnia. We're approaching the last chapters and, like with most books, the closer you get to the end, the more you want to finish it. Actually, I'm really looking forward to getting the book done with so we can watch the movies. (D bought the box set from the BBC.) M has already seen the most recent version of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, but I'm guessing that'll be a bit violent for N. Although I edited the book as I've read it (e.g., changing "to kill" into "to take" and "ass" to "donkey"), for the most part, I've ready it pretty much as written. I think that while N is only five, having the story read to him and letting him use his imagination to fill in the pictures is much less intense than having the battle scenes and the violence that will accompany them plastered on the screen.
I'll finish this post off with a little joke to brighten your day:
There was a guy who loved fish and chips so much that he decided to take a tour of England, documenting the best places to find fish and chips. Once the tour was over, he would publish his findings as a travel guide.
He drove all over England, eating fish and chips and taking copious amounts of notes. One day, nearing the end of his trip, he stopped in a pub in a small town and shared his story with some of his fellow patrons. All agreed that for the best fish and chips, he should go to the monastery just outside town. They served the best fish and chips in all of England.
The next day, the guy headed out to the monastery and knocked on the front door. When the abbot answered, the man explained the purpose for his visit and was immediately invited in for a meal. The abbot seated him at their dining table and told him he'd be back shortly.
After 10-15 minutes, the abbot returned with a large plate of fish and chips. He served the man and when he tried them, he had to agree with the folks in the pub: These were the best fish and chips in all of England. Wanting to express his enthusiasm with the cook, he insisted that he meet whoever was responsible for the meal.
The abbot went back into the kitchen and a couple minutes later came out with another man of the cloth.
"These are the best fish and chips I've ever tasted," the man exclaimed to the cook. "And I've tasted quite a bit on the travels throughout England! You should be proud of yourself!"
"Oh, I can't take all the credit," the cook responded, "I didn't cook the entire meal."
"Well, then, where is your partner?" the writer asked.
"Right here," the monk answered, pointing to the abbot. "He's the fish friar, and I'm the chip monk."
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Day 72 - 05/03/2007
An employee working at the customer site came to my office today to go over the migration. He's under the gun from the customer to keep up with what's going on with the product so, in order to satisfy the customer, made the trip out to the office. He was running late so by the time he got there, it was time to head out to lunch. A couple of the guys on the team came with us and the four of us went to the local Thai place. During lunch he shared with us the following story:
"...So I had been out hiking one day and after getting back to my car, decided to stop by at a California Burrito for some chow. After ordering, I went over to the wall of hot sauces and decided to be daring and got down one from the black section. I settled on Dave's Hell Fire Hot Ass Sauce (or was something like that -- it had a picture of a guy with flames shooting out of his mouth and ass and smoke coming out of his ears with his eyes bulging out like they do in the Tom and Jerry cartoons when Tom [or Jerry] sees a cute cat [or mouse]) and opened the top. Suddenly, I lost my grip on the bottle and it slipped out of my hands and landed on the table. Unfortunately, it landed in such a way that some shot out of the top and squirted me right in my eye.
At first it just stung, but as the seconds passed, it got hotter and hotter. I started gyrating and squirming and moaning and rubbing my eye, but the more I rubbed, the worse it got.
I'm not sure what I looked like, but after the fact, I pictured the folks behind the counter (who couldn't see that I had squirted hot sauce in my eye) thinking they should call the cops or something, as I was squirming and moaning and shaking and rubbing my eye and just not acting right. The more I stood there, squirming and moaning and shaking and rubbing, the more it hurt. After a while, I couldn't even see and I was thinking I was hallucinating, but I can't be sure. All I knew was that I had to get my eye flushed out. I was able to see enough out of my good eye to see the soda fountain and so I went up to it and started splashing Coke in my eye in order to flush it out. Now I'm SURE they were thinking what the hell was I doing, but they never tried to stop me. (Maybe they had seen it happen before and knew the drill.) Anyway, after about three or four minutes, it finally felt good enough where I could actually stand the pain and was able to finish flushing my eye out in the bathroom."
Of course, after he tells us this story, one of my colleague makes the comment that "You flushed your eye out with Coke? That probably didn't feel good!"
"Yeah, but it felt a whole hell of a lot better than Dave's Hell Fire Hot Ass Sauce!"
We all laughed at his pain, but you've got to admit, that would've been a hoot to witness in person!
Of course, I shared this story w/ D and the kids at dinner (except I altered the name of the hot sauce, for the little pitchers with big ears at the table).
Speaking of D, she left for Chestertown this evening, so it was just me and the kids for the weekend (well, until Saturday evening anyway).
N wasn't feeling too well, so we called in sick to practice. It's better he didn't go, as we'll be at the game on Saturday and he wasn't up for going anyway. Last night he got to bed later than usual (as well as on Tuesday). Another late night and he might not be able to kick the cold he's recently picked up. It hasn't turned into a full-fledged cold (and I'm hoping it won't).
After D left, the kids got ready for bed and I read them a chapter from Narnia before putting them to bed. N was in bed around 8p, which is much sooner than he would have been had he gone to practice (and since D had left, M would've had to go as well, much to her chagrin).
M read until around 835p and turned the lights out on her own. I warned her that if I checked on her and found her lights on after a five minute grace period, she'd lose computer time this weekend. Much to my surprise (actually, I really wasn't surprised as my incentive was worth it), I heard her shut down right at 835p. (I told her lights out at 830 and, in full M fashion, she pushed it to the limit.)
After they were in bed, I settled into the couch for a night watching TV. I finished up the Deadliest Snakes show that D wasn't too keen on watching with me and then caught some hockey before hitting the sack around 11p. Butterfly missed D and cuddled up next to me, but not for much longer than usual before settling in on D's pillow (again, as she usually does).
"...So I had been out hiking one day and after getting back to my car, decided to stop by at a California Burrito for some chow. After ordering, I went over to the wall of hot sauces and decided to be daring and got down one from the black section. I settled on Dave's Hell Fire Hot Ass Sauce (or was something like that -- it had a picture of a guy with flames shooting out of his mouth and ass and smoke coming out of his ears with his eyes bulging out like they do in the Tom and Jerry cartoons when Tom [or Jerry] sees a cute cat [or mouse]) and opened the top. Suddenly, I lost my grip on the bottle and it slipped out of my hands and landed on the table. Unfortunately, it landed in such a way that some shot out of the top and squirted me right in my eye.
At first it just stung, but as the seconds passed, it got hotter and hotter. I started gyrating and squirming and moaning and rubbing my eye, but the more I rubbed, the worse it got.
I'm not sure what I looked like, but after the fact, I pictured the folks behind the counter (who couldn't see that I had squirted hot sauce in my eye) thinking they should call the cops or something, as I was squirming and moaning and shaking and rubbing my eye and just not acting right. The more I stood there, squirming and moaning and shaking and rubbing, the more it hurt. After a while, I couldn't even see and I was thinking I was hallucinating, but I can't be sure. All I knew was that I had to get my eye flushed out. I was able to see enough out of my good eye to see the soda fountain and so I went up to it and started splashing Coke in my eye in order to flush it out. Now I'm SURE they were thinking what the hell was I doing, but they never tried to stop me. (Maybe they had seen it happen before and knew the drill.) Anyway, after about three or four minutes, it finally felt good enough where I could actually stand the pain and was able to finish flushing my eye out in the bathroom."
Of course, after he tells us this story, one of my colleague makes the comment that "You flushed your eye out with Coke? That probably didn't feel good!"
"Yeah, but it felt a whole hell of a lot better than Dave's Hell Fire Hot Ass Sauce!"
We all laughed at his pain, but you've got to admit, that would've been a hoot to witness in person!
Of course, I shared this story w/ D and the kids at dinner (except I altered the name of the hot sauce, for the little pitchers with big ears at the table).
Speaking of D, she left for Chestertown this evening, so it was just me and the kids for the weekend (well, until Saturday evening anyway).
N wasn't feeling too well, so we called in sick to practice. It's better he didn't go, as we'll be at the game on Saturday and he wasn't up for going anyway. Last night he got to bed later than usual (as well as on Tuesday). Another late night and he might not be able to kick the cold he's recently picked up. It hasn't turned into a full-fledged cold (and I'm hoping it won't).
After D left, the kids got ready for bed and I read them a chapter from Narnia before putting them to bed. N was in bed around 8p, which is much sooner than he would have been had he gone to practice (and since D had left, M would've had to go as well, much to her chagrin).
M read until around 835p and turned the lights out on her own. I warned her that if I checked on her and found her lights on after a five minute grace period, she'd lose computer time this weekend. Much to my surprise (actually, I really wasn't surprised as my incentive was worth it), I heard her shut down right at 835p. (I told her lights out at 830 and, in full M fashion, she pushed it to the limit.)
After they were in bed, I settled into the couch for a night watching TV. I finished up the Deadliest Snakes show that D wasn't too keen on watching with me and then caught some hockey before hitting the sack around 11p. Butterfly missed D and cuddled up next to me, but not for much longer than usual before settling in on D's pillow (again, as she usually does).
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