The Gurly Life

I *almost* called them again

Which would have been too much. Too much.

A few short weeks ago, you may remember, I called the cable company out to fix my cable box, which turned out to be -- wait for it -- off. And yes, I also ask myself how I've gotten so far in life. I think it's that I'm cute and I have excellent time management skills.

A little more recently, I bundled my cable, internet and phone, so Time Warner came out again and fiddled around with the phone lines. About a week ago I noticed one of my phones was not working. Sigh. I haven't called TW out again out of sheer absent-mindedness. I mean, damn it, they switched me over to their fancy digital phone thingy, I need it to work!

This evening I accidentally (coincidentally?) noticed that there was a loose phone jack lying around. I followed it, and behold! The cord went straight into the phone that was not working. In a fit of pure genius, I pulled the cord out of the phone, and attached the phone to the phone cord that was plugged into the wall.

Voila. The phone works. So, it turns out that if you don't hook up the phone to the phone plug using a phone cord, the phone doesn't work. I mean, can you believe that shit?

Yeah.

Short story made long, I was spared further unnecessary embarrassment. Though admittedly that would have made a better follow-up post. Apparently, you can't have everything.

Finally, a new year's resolution I'm not likely to stick to!

Have you ever made a new year's resolution that you didn't stick to? Perhaps I should rephrase that: have you ever made a new year's resolution that you still remembered when the hangover passed? Yeah, me neither. And I don't even drink.

Unfulfilled new year's resolutions inevitably lead to either shame or cynicism. Shame because you can't stick to them and what kind of person are you that you can't even stay on a diet for longer than 48 hours. Or cynisim, because why bother with new year's resolutions when you're just not strong enough to stick to a diet for longer than 48 hours.

Let's face it: losing weight and getting in shape is really the only new year's resolution that we, doughy first-world mollycoddles ever make. For example: this year, I'm going to lose weight and get in shape. Or: this year, I'm going to meet the love of my life, because I will be in shape and thin by February. Or: this year I will get promoted and I will be a fit, thin boss. Or: this year I will travel around the world, and as a result I will be fit and thin. Or: this year I will lose a bunch of weight so I can go to Paris for a week and eat my own weight in food and still fit in an airplane seat. Or: this year I will travel to India to take care of the orphans and while there I will get dysentery, which will suck but on the plus side I will be super thin. Anyway, you get the gist.

If you're a big fat liar, like me, you'll say something like, oh I just want to be healthy and feel good, when what you really mean is I would like to lose a little weight and look hot, but if I fail, I don't want to be held accountable because I'm healthy, and that was my goal, that's why I said it that way.

Inevitably, we are broadsided by a chocolate cake, and that's that.

My solution: make resolutions that I am not likely to follow through on. I know, this might at first glance appear to be a cynical approach to resolutions, but bear with me. This is a win-win kind of deal. No, it's a win-win-win kind of deal. Here's my resolution:

I'm going to get in better shape than I already am so that I can look good in a bikini in April, when I go to Maui with Willow and Adam. This is also a good idea because I need to replace some of the muscle I have lost since I stopped running.

(You heard me: we're going to Hawaii. Jealous much? Don't get sidetracked.)

The likelihood of this happening is almost zero. I hate the gym, this is well known. Weight training tends to give me super chunky thighs, with no apparent decrease in cellulitic fat. So just as soon as I begin to notice an uptick in thigh meatiness, I will give up the weight training and decide to focus on cardio. Which I hate even more. I cannot make peace with being on a machine that simulates movement but that is indoors and where I can cover a distance of virtual miles without ever moving. It's nightmarish to me. So, that will fall by the wayside, also.

Where is the win-win-win, you ask? Well, here it is. If I fail, I win, because I made a resolution that I don't really intend to fulfill. If by some miracle (i.e., just to be contrary) I manage to stick with it, I win too because I will have built muscle, maybe lost some fat, and now look better in a bikini -- that's all kinds of win right there. And either way, I win because I feel zero pressure to actually stick with it, which actually makes it more likely that I will.

I should be a motivational speaker.

Pure genius

And I mean that with pure sarcasm.

Between Saturday night and Sunday morning, something went awry with my cable box. And by that I mean that damn thing stopped working. Sigh.

I called the cable company, and they sent someone out today (Tuesday). The nice man arrived, looked at the cable box, grabbed the remote, pressed a button, and SHAZZAM! the cable box was working again.

Eh hem.

So it turns out that if I try to power off the tv when the little CBL button is pressed, I turn off the cable box but not the tv. Which is what happened. Let me repeat that in case you didn't get it: I turned off my cable box, and then had to have the cable company come out and turn it back on for me.

Pure genius.

Thankfully I'm long past the point of caring about being fantastically dense, so my response involved my jaw dropping open, the words "Are you totally serious?" or something similar coming out of my mouth, and a fit of giggles.

Apparently this is very common, and the technician who came out told me he does this 4-5 times every month. The cable guy said I was particularly nice; apparently people are rude and just don't believe that they caused the problem, and it wasn't even a problem in the first place. People are very strange.

Missed connections

Is there a Craig's List section for missed connections for cars? Because Pixie the Prius

Would like to go out on a date with this dude

But only if he's being ironic.

NOT white elephant gifts (see previous post)

On the other hand, sometimes gifts that at first glance might appear ripe for white elephant regifting end up giving people (me and my mom) hours of entertainment. To wit:

Once again, Willow strikes again! What's kinda sad about this is that we're almost enjoying it more than the fancy new tv. Almost. It does have a huge advantage over the new tv: it is portable, and can be shown off at inappropriate moments at work and at play.

It's the stupid things

On Saturday, my evening plans fell through so my mom and I decided to have dinner at a local  restaurant. The food is good, and the staff are friendly and welcoming. They do everything they can to compete with the other, similar restaurant down the street. Bless their hearts.

Saturday evening was no exception. They had a violin/erhu/piano player in a full-on tux with tails. His hair was slick, and he played with the passion of a concert violinist. The only problem was that he really was not good at all. When we walked in he was playing some Christmas song on the violin, and he was off-key and flat, to boot. At first I thought I was having a stroke and that the auditory center of my brain had melted, but then I realized my mom was hearing the same thing. Let the giggling begin!

The entertainment moved on to the piano, where he launched into a piece by Mozart, messed it up a few times, stopped and started again, and then trailed into nothing. Ditto with Claire de Lune. After that, it was back to the erhu, which sounded ok to us - we assume he can play that one, and he's dabbling in the other instruments. Then again to his forte, the violin. He played several famous pieces, which we were kind of able to recognize - he would begin by keeping it simple, and do ok (not great, just ok), then his confidence would apparently outswell his skills, and he would take it to the next level, where it all went to shit.

While I realize this makes us horrible people, I have to admit we had the best time and giggled helplessly most of the evening, and walked out with big smiles on our faces. Naturally, we clapped at the end of each number. In fact, I enjoyed the bad playing more than I enjoy good playing: I like to chat with my company during dinner and have fun, not be distracted by good music and then feel obligated to pay attention. This was much, much better. We had no trouble telling the management that we enjoyed the evening's entertainment.

Are you shitting me?

Or, A New Business Opportunity;

Or, Finally, A Way For Those Damn Feline Freeloaders To Make Me Some Money!

A friend brought this to my attention, that the most expensive tea in the world is made from panda droppings. No, really. If you want to click through and check it out because you're shaking your head incredulously, go ahead, I'll be here.

I have also recently learned that the most expensive coffee beans in the world, Kopi Luwak, are eaten and pooped out by a civet, which appears to be a rat-like critter. That's right. A rat. These beans sell for $3,000 a pound.

So I have three words for you:

Cat. Poop. Tea.

I'm looking for investors.

 

Ridiculous, or a veiled warning?

A new magnet outside my office. Yeah. I'm a totally serious attorney.

Odd things I saw on a short walk

All you need is eyes in your head to see odd stuff. I walked to and from lunch with a friend today, and we spotted these.

This was a on the side of a car. Not a van, a car. Not a commercial vehicle car, but a regular passenger car. So I wonder: is the message that if birds drink poison they die? That drinking poison and partying are a good thing? Does XX mean alcohol? Bleach? Motor oil? And if the bird is already dead (X in the eye), then how can it be drinking? Does this dude sell bird poison? Is he for or against bird death due to drinking poison/alcohol/motor oil? I just don't know.

This was outside an open apartment complex. You can't tell from this picture but the "camera" just looks like a cheap plastic kids' toy. There are no wires of any kind, and believe me when I tell you this is no wireless setup. It made me laugh. I mean, really, who are they kidding?

Accessorizing with fat

I often wish that money and fat were reversed: that money came easily and was lost with difficulty and that fat would refuse to come on, no matter what, and would melt away at every conceivable opportunity (yes, yes, I know, first world problem, just hang out with it, will ya?).

As I made this point for the upteenth time with someone in my office, she remarked that it would be weird if our weight fluctuated like our bank accounts: $4,000 one day, $100 the next, $1,500 the next. Our wardrobes would be exponentially more expensive, of course, as we would need clothes from a size 2 to a size 16.

What would life be like if our weight did, indeed, flucuate like our bank accounts sometimes do? And please don't bother me with silly medical facts about how it's unhealthy for your weight to fluctuate, this is not that kind of post. I for one would enjoy being fat one day and thin the next, then plump in the morning and stocky in the afternoon. I'd be an apple today and a pear tomorrow, and an hourglass on Sunday.