Goss's 2M of Wasted Bandwidth
Sunday, June 29, 2003
Thursday, June 26, 2003
...and yet another story, for those who asked.
Several weeks ago, my sister told me "Check the mail- you should have a package! Don't let it go the route of the cheesecake.", referring to the Great Cheesecake Incident of 2001. (A dear friend sent me a cheesecake for Christmas. The FedEX left the package at the leasing center without leaving a sticky on my door, so FIVE MONTHS LATER I got a note from the Leasing Office saying "Hey! You've got a package up here that we've had for five months!". Goodness and decency took hold in me (for once) and I threw out the rotten cheesecake before taking the box to the FedEx office to bitch.
Anyway....
My first impulse is "Yay!", but then I start to think. It *isn't* my birthday or Christmas or anything else like that, and she *does* think like me...and I started to wonder.
Oh no...she didn't...
So I went to get the package.
Oh yes, she did.
Inside a very small, tidily wrapped, neatly lettered box, with it's contents carefully and lovingly wrapped in tissue paper, was a diaper. From Colin. With love, even...at least that's what the note said (damn smart kid...not even two months old and able to write a letter). At least he sealed it in a ziploc (how many other two-month-olds do you know who can zip a ziploc? I'm damn impressed.).
And it showed evidence of use. "Oh my God!" my freinds exclaimed, "Did she really mail you a dirty diaper?" Well, considering that I'm not exactly rushing to open the baggie and take a whiff to find out, I decided to err on the side of caution. "Yes." I said, "Yes, she did."
Whereupon all of my friends who are mothers-of-children-who-are-signifigantly-older-and-therefore-more ...er...how can I put this delicately..."productive"-than-Colin offered to donate dirty diapers to send right back. However, the best idea came from my beloved boss, Dennis; send back a dirty adult-sized diaper. We even had a prospect picked out, all 6'9 and 350 pounds of him. Luckily for Spring, it didn't happen. Luckily for Spring, she revealed that the diaper was a fake and blamed the whole thing on Dad. He musta forgot I had this picture of him.
I decided, since it's my auntly-duty anyway, to take my Noisy Toy Obligation to an extreme. In what I belive was a statement of Symbolic Revenge against thier own family membrs who had fulfilled thier NTO, all of my friends who are mothers-of-children-who-are-signifgantly-older-than-Colin were eager to offer up suggestions. If I play my cards right, I can get all of the people who's children for whom I've purchased obnoxious toys to gleefully send those toys to my sister, and all the while they will (gleefully) believe that they have exacted thier revenge on *me*.
I think I'm on to something...
Tuesday, June 24, 2003
...a little tidbit for all of those watching the unfolding drama...
How To Find Jesus
Finding Jesus can be critically important in an emergency. The key is knowing where to look.
1: Don't panic Many people, after realizing they have lost Jesus, become panicky. This can be very dangerous. Instead, take a few deep breaths, relax, and think: where was the last place you had Jesus? Go there.
2: Look around Be thorough. Did you look behind the couch? He might be there. Don't just glance around the room, either. Lift things up. He might be in the clothing hamper, for instance. Check there. He's probably right where you left Him.
3: Ask around If you still cannot find Jesus, talk to others. Do not ask them "have you found Jesus?" For one thing, they may have never misplaced him in the first place, so your question might be construed as awkward. Also, you might not want to admit you've lost Him, as this is a reasonably irresponsible thing to do. Instead, ask if they've seen Him recently, and if so, where. Here is a list of people who might know where Jesus is:
--Professional athletes. They are finding Jesus on a daily basis, because He is a big sports fan.
--Clergymen. Priests, monks, pastors, rectors, elders, and chaplains are all good people to talk to about this. You may find that many of them haven't seen Jesus in a long time, but they are usually pretty good at finding Him in a pinch.
--The Pope. The upside is that not only does he know where to find Jesus, he probably had lunch with Him yesterday. The downside is that the Pope's schedule is usually very full.
4: Bounty hunters If you are still unable to find Jesus, you may want to consider this option, although it is somewhat extreme and not likely to work. Bounty hunters are people who will find Jesus for you, but you have to pay them. They usually dress in white clothing for some reason, many are from the South, and all of them spend a lot of time on television announcing their desire to help you find Jesus, provided you send them cash. Dealing with a bounty hunter is a lot like speaking to a used car salesman. If you ask "how much will it cost to find Jesus?" they may quote a price, but that is not the final price, and next week they are charging you double. If you are not careful, before long you will have sent them all of your money, and they still have not found Jesus for you. Then they will claim that this is your fault. The truth is, they either don't know where to find Jesus, or they mistook someone else for Him.
Things to know
-Once you have found Jesus, keep an eye on him. He may wander off again.
-In the event that you never find Jesus, consider the possibility that He does not want you to find Him.
Sunday, June 22, 2003
Classy
Mike: "So she orders Kelly's Promise chardonnay, the cheapest, absolute worst wine we offer. I deliver the wine and walk to the other side of the dining room to watch. I notice she's stirring...I thought she might have been stirring the lemon into her water, but like any good server should, I go back to the table to check it out...she might spill or splash or something. I'm about twenty feet away, and I realize she's putting ice in her wine (for the uninitiated, this will instantly label you as "Hick".). As I get even closer, I realize that it *wasn't* ice she was putting in her wine.
(holds up the evidence)
...it was a packet of Equal. Why in the hell would anyone do that, especially in public, where you can be *seen*?"
(moment of silence)
Me: "Because Sweet and Low is a carcinogen?"
Wednesday, June 18, 2003
It's fun to watch a Famous Person (who's 15 minutes were loooooooong up) publicly make an ass out of themselves. It's even funnier when an onlooker comments "Oh, them. They came near the end of the )insert genre here) movement, just before everyone got bored with it and moved on to something new." without realizing the status of the Famous Person.
Oops.
(snicker)
Wayne's playing Wolfenstein over the internet. I think I might have to join in.
Tuesday, June 17, 2003
A boy and his cat.
(that should be *my* cat, but she abandoned me in favor of Wayne)
The clarity of the photograph was undermined by the need for stealth (which was unsuccesful, as you can tell)
Friday, June 13, 2003
In an attempt to take my life back, I've decided to unload my job on some poor, unsuspecting fool. My only problem- nobody wants it (they all know better).
Thursday, June 12, 2003
Does anyone in Atlanta know where I can lay my mits on some rose-flavored turkish delight? I severely doubt my sister will make a trip to Pike Place Market for me.
Wednesday, June 11, 2003
Saturday, June 07, 2003
Clean a little more, screw off a little more, blah blah blah
Someday, I'm going to make this a real web page. But not today.
Thursday, June 05, 2003
Clean a little, screw off a little, clean a little, screw off a little, screw off a little, screw off a little, clean a little ......
Anne would be so proud of me...I've been cleaning up the garage today.
But she wouldn't be surprised, either...the routine has been clean a little, screw off a little, clean a little, screw off a little, lather, rinse, repeat.
Tuesday, June 03, 2003
We went to see The Matrix: Reloaded tonight. I was not impressed.
Having to sit through a stupid movie is bad enough, but it’s even worse when you’ve got Mr. and Mrs. Jabba The Hutt behind you, munching on a four-course dinner of junk food.
Chewing. Smacking. Belching, Smacking after the belch, because you blew up some cud. Slurping the empty cup (the damn cup isn’t going to magically refill itself, lady). Unwrapping. Unwrapping. Unwrapping. Crunching. Snuffling. Smacking. Digging in the popcorn. Chewing. Smacking. More digging in the popcorn (and you can’t be content to take a few kernels between your thumb and fingers, like normal people do, you have to swirl your fingers round and round and round in an effort to collect a huge handful of popcorn, which you then cram into your gaping maw, leaving butter smears on the sides of your mouth and little white flakes down the front of your shirt. Then you smack while you chew, because you took such a big mouthful of popcorn you can’t possible chew with your mouth closed...you get the idea.).
...and it doesn’t stop there.
They talked, constantly. If something wasn’t going in to their mouths, senseless prattle was dribbling out of it. It wasn’t intelligent conversation, either...it was crap like “Oh my God! Did you see that?” during a major action sequence. No ma’am, I suppose he didn’t, since his attention is directed to the bottom of his popcorn bucket and not on the big screen.
More smacking. More grunting. More chewing. More slurping.
Two hours! I had to endure this shit for two hours! I will never, ever get those two hours back!
Boom! “Was that their ship?” Mr. Jabba says. It takes every ounce of my self control to not turn around and shout “Of course not, you idiot! It was the fucking Death Star!”
And what is up with Matthew and Gunnar Nelson doing Milli Vanilli?
