Thunderstorms and Logan's Dave

Wanna learn something rather intimate about your narrator?

If not, you might want to skip to the next post. I'm sure one will be along soon.

Thunderstorms have an interesting effect on me. Namely, they make me feel rather horny. Of course, there haven't been any scientific studies into this, so it's an unconfirmed theory, but if you ask any of my former lovers, especially those who got late-night booty calls during thunderstorms, they'll confirm this oddity.

I wouldn't call it a fetish. I'd call it more of a conditioned response- Pavlovian in a way, if you equate his ringing a bell to the doot-doot-doot of the weather warnings on TV or the crash of thunder. Or(here's where the former psychology major kicks in), is it a instinctual response from back when we were running from storms, fire, predators, and whatever else from ages and species past?

It was a nice spring storm last night to say the least. I heartily enjoyed it. Details beyond that are, well, classified.

Finally.

Finally, I'm able to post again.

Finally, someone has combined my love of Quentin Tarantino movies with my love of Muppets.

from b3ta.com
Posted by Hello

Finally, I've realized that Netflix is on crack. I was honing their ability to recommend movies to me by rating a myriad of other films. For some reason, my responses caused them to recommend more and more kid's movies and anime. I don't like either. Call me old. Call me grumpy.

Testing.

Just checking out to see if this damn thing works again.

Take your spim and shove it.

So, if you're like me, and a member of MySpace, you've probably noticed a whole lot of new friend requests lately. I was thinking I was suddenly gaining a lot of popularity with women aged 16-19, but as it turns out, they've arrested someone for spimming myself and almost 1.5 million other people who use MySpace.

For once in my life, I'm happy for the cops.

Crappy day.

Ok, I'm not in a earthquake, I didn't cut my hands and a foot off this weekend, and no one's removed my feeding tube(or fought to keep me alive against my guardian's or my own will), but I'm in a shit mood right now.

It started off at about 6:27 this morning, as I was running out the door, hearing my train pull into the station. I'm late. Oh well. I feel a little light today. What did I forget? Hm. I don't jingle at all when I walk. Oh fuck. I forgot my keys.

Normally, this wouldn't be a problem. Normally. Except that my roommate has moved into his condo, and my new roommate hasn't moved in yet. My roommate's copy of our keys are in his new apartment, about 4 miles north of my house. Thankfully, my best friend and Jen have offered up their homes to me for a while, so that when my roommate rides up like the cavalry should, I won't be cold or drunk at a bar or worse. Sadly, I won't be in my own house until probably 7, which makes for a grumpy Dave. Oh yeah, and I also forgot my Netflix, so I won't have new movies until at least Thursday. But that, friends and readers, is only minor.

Next up to bat: our customers. Now, I know my regulars remember my nemesis. I'd check for those past posts, but I'm feeling lazy and angry right now, and I keep getting interrupted. This man, whom we've nicknamed after a certain movie starring Sean Astin, Brendan Fraser and Pauly Shore, is not only stupid, but also annoying and, perhaps worse, rude.

He's abusive to us. He can't remember a damn thing. He's just plain lost in the world. He needs to go away. He's also called here 9 times today. One of my co-workers talked to him once, he hung up on my boss three times, and I've talked to him 5 times. That's right. FIVE. That's 562 times too many, in my opinion.

So to him, I ask, "Why don't you take a flying fuck and a rolling doughnut? Why don't you take a flying fuck at the moon?"

My cat dreams of this day.

Chengdu, China
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She's not much for the out-of-doors, but she does love doing things with her daddy, be it watching a movie, surfing the internet, or even cooking. One of her favorite things to do is ride on my shoulders.

I'd offer up a photoshopped picture of myself and my cat, but there aren't enough pictures of me on a bike to really make it possible.

Here's some nice picures of my kitty, though.

What goes on in my mind.

Scary things. Weird dreams.

Thursday, I dreamt I had sex with one of my ex's(no, it's probably not who you would think, and I won't tell anyways). Let's just say it's someone I haven't though of for a long, long time.

Last night I dreamt I was flying to Canada, but was trying to do so without any form of identification. Suddenly, my magician bit started, and poof- there's a birth certificate and drivers license! Huzzah! Now I can board my flight.

A little strange, but nothing too unusual for my subconscious.

More later, after I finish another pub quiz round.

It's getting better all the time.

I've got a busy weekend ahead of me. Not because I'm celebrating any holidays, but because I've got one roommate moving out, and another one coming in. I've got Jen's bike to build, a barbeque to semi-host, and work on Sunday from 10-2.

At some point, I get to have fun, though. I foresee a movie or two, perhaps a dinner or two, and some sleep. It'll be great. Perhaps, and not for sure, I'll do a little karaoke. We'll see.

What a difference a day almost made.

It's amazing to me, how whenever I take a day off, instead of returning to work refreshed, perky, and patient with people, I actually come back and become instantly pissy, grumpy and without any goddamn patience for any dumbass who has the misfortune of calling me. I used to think the problem was the callers. And I still think it's them.

I had one guy earlier who just didn't get the idea that today was Thursday, not Wednesday. He was an experienced trader that didn't understand that a market that is open almost 24 hours would report information from 3am. He also needed help with the fact that 13:00 means 1:00.

Frustration.

Frustration which was compounded by a person who didn't understand that if you have multiple copies of a program running, you're going to see multiple icons in your task bar. Frustration was then pushed beyond all logical limits by a man who would simply not follow any directions whatsoever, and I'm damn happy that I'm off for the next 2 days.

I am, however, working in our Network Operation Center on Sunday. Some quiet solitude and still more overtime will do me wonders. When I finally get paid for all this.

Thursday stands to be a very, very good day in the life of your humble narrator.

Even cowgirls get the blues.

I'm feeling a little better today. I still don't have any more information about my friend, but I've cleared my schedule of any committments that would interrupt attendance at his funeral.

Pub quiz is done for tonight, and I've even written a round for tonight that I'm completely unqualified to write for. Soccer.

I'm clueless. I understand the basics, but I'm no fan. As we all know, I prefer the sport of hockey.

We'll see how it goes. And yes, I'm still working on a way to post these online. I just haven't gotten around to asking my friend if I can tag them onto her website.

One of these days, I promise.

Movie Review: Der Untergang

Good things did happen this weekend:

Friday night I spent some very rare time in Evanston, Chicago's suburb immediately to the north, right on Lake Michigan, at the glorious Century Theatre. My companion and I saw Downfall, a powerful film that stirred a whole lot of conflicting emotions in me. This is a German film about the last days of Hitler and the war in Europe. Fortunately Ich spreche deutsches wenig, so I didn't have to read all the subtitles and was able to see how well the movie was made.

I have to admit that I learned a lot, too. While I consider myself to be somewhat of a history buff, there were several things I didn't know about that time.

Anyways, if someone else out there has seen this movie and would like to discuss it, let's open a thread.

Rest in peace, KL

A friend and former co-worker at Tower Records, KL was hit by a train this weekend and killed. Funeral arrangements are coming.

This will be the third time I've buried one of my friends from Tower, and it doesn't get easier.

Rest in peace, old friend.

How sad is this?

It's being reported today that CGBG's may lose it's lease, ending 32 years of great music.

Suddenly, I'm feeling a pull to pay homage to the birthplace of punk. Road trip, anyone?

To the investors of the world: Don't worry, Dutch is on it.

That's right, all, I'm at work on a Sunday night, enjoying the quiet and darkness that is our office on the weekend. I'm playing music and putting my feet up on my desk. I'm being Dutch.

Dutch, as you may or may not know, is my alter-ego. A kind of Superhero. A karaoke-singing madman who fights crimes against music in the Greater Chicagoland Area. And sometimes, he commits them, too.

Last night, after the Wolves game I went with Pat and some other friends. I absolutely mangled Cyndi Lauper's She Bop. My most humble apologies to Ms. Lauper, who, when I met her, was one of the most down-to-earth celebrities I've ever encountered.

I tried to make up for it by doing some standards: A Boy Named Sue, Every Rose Has Its Thorn, Take On Me, and re-premiered The Joker. I also belted out a couple of tributes, Dancing in the Dark, for my friend N, who is the biggest Springsteen fan outside of New Jersey, and Wish You Were Here for Sass.

It was a late night. There were tacos involved. It was fun.

Hooray for Blogger!

I just now, all of 10 minutes ago, managed to get my post from 4:30 yesterday to go through.

I know. I bitch too much about blogger, and certain friends of mine with much cooler heads remind me that I should be saving posts in Notepad and being patient.

I guess I'm too stubborn. Or maybe just too grumpy. After all, I do like to call myself the Angriest Man in Chicago, or I used to, before I was put under doctor's orders to lower my blood pressure. Now I'm trying to let things go much easier and not get mad so easy, but it's hard to change stuff like that. Perhaps I need to start fencing again. Good stress relief. Maybe I should finally bite the bullet and get myself a Slam Man so I can punch away my frustrations and get a good cario workout. Or maybe get my old construction job back, where I had so little to worry about, and I got to break shit all the time. Although the pay isn't much to live on, at least I was having fun.

Maybe I should take a vacation. Maybe Toronto. Maybe a weekend at my grandparents' farm. Maybe I'll take the first nice weekend, grab a couple friends, and go canoeing. There's nothing quite as relaxing as spending a Saturday afternoon with a case of beer and a nice, slow-rolling river to canoe down.

It's not an ordinary day.

Usually, by this time of night, I'm at home, on my couch petting my cat. Not today. I keep looking at the clock, because it feels like I should be at home already, but I've still got 3 1/2 hours to go.

And it's dragging.

Thankfully, I had the presence of mind to pack myself some CDs to add to my library at work, so I'm getting my Irish going, listening to some Black 47 and trying not to think of Guinness. In a bit I'm going to start up Great Big Sea and have to not only fight off dreams of a tall pint, but also the urge to sing along at the top of my lungs.

I'm also counting the minutes until 8.

Frustration.

A customer just called up to tell me that our quotes are always screwed up.

The problem is, he doesn't know what the hell he's doing. He was trying to get a quote on a contract that is expiring, for one. For two, he's not indicating which month, so of course he's not going to get quotes for the specific month.

Of course, extracting this information from him is like trying to remove a tooth from a cheetah's mouth while it's running full boar, and you're in a airplane hanging upside-down, blindfolded and wearing oven mits. Oh, and you're roaring drunk, which is pretty much the only way I'll ever be hanging upside-down from a plane.

Oh, sweet irony.

I'm not trying to be sarcastic or ironic when I say that I love irony. I think it's a function of my twisted sense of humor, but the jury's still out on that. I mean, who else would pay a bartender five bucks to bartend with his pants down?

That's right. Only me. Well, I'm sure lots of other people would too, but- ah, to hell with it. It was funny. I guess you had to be there.

So, after work yesterday, in the balmy 46 degree weather, I walked over to After Hours Formalwear at Adams and Wabash to get measured for my Barong for Wendy and Joey's Wedding. As you can see from Joey's entry, there's some relatively funky measurements to be made, so as the guy was finishing up, he said to me "that's one for the books." I laughed. We shared a good chuckle, and I left. They were, by the way, nice enough to not charge me for measurements. I like that.

The funny part about that is my roommate, soon to be ex roommate works in the same building, so I sent him a TM to see if he could sneak off for a drink. At the same time, I was TMing another friend to see if she wanted to go to the Wolves game with me. Neither wound up happening, so I decided to hop the train home.

What was ironic is that a hip, 30-something Chicagoan as myself who uses public transportation on a daily basis almost made a very dumb mistake. I just hopped on the train, as I would at any other stop, and away we went. Fortunately for me, I heard someone on the train say "this is a Green Line train" before I wound up somewhere on the west side, having to turn around and come back. When I finally did get home, I was blessed by the CTA stork, and found that ChicaGo Card, Jr. had arrived in my mail box, to take over where ChicaGo Card, Sr. left off on Monday. The irony in this situation is that I had, on Tuesday, purchased a old-fashioned dippy card and put $20 on it, so I'm stuck with that for a few days. I hate the dippy cards. I love my touch-card. I'll bitch about this for another $14.25, just so you know. Hopefully I'll have Junior in full swing by Tuesday, though.

Sir, would it be too much of an imposition for you to kindly bless my exposed hindquarters with your lips?

I fucking hate being condescended to.

I hate it more when some asshat customer does it. Especially when he's not listening to me, and being so argumentative that he's actually preventing me from being able to help him.

It's pretty simple- if you bite the hand that feeds you type logic. Guys like this is the reason I hate my job.

So, here's to you, Mr. Asshole who won't stop yelling. Go take a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut.

Finite Sadness.

Today, my friends, neighbors, and drinking buddies, is payday.

It couldn't have come a day sooner. I'm thrilled.

That aside, I've been reading way too much news today. It was bringing me down. At least, it was until I read Cynthia's blog entry about Gizoogle. Then a bright and shiny ray of hope came pouring through the clouds, and I was laughing my ass off. At this.

RIP, ChicaGo Card

Sadly, it's time for me to say goodbye to a dear friend. My ChicaGo Card Plus up and died this morning.

Despite having heard stories about the ease of breaking CTA cards, I never took any precautions to protect my CTA card from the cruel outside world. I carry it in my breast pocket, usually, and on my walk to the train(a grand total of a block and change), I usually palm it in my glove, as it's still kinda cold out.

I, and my card, paid for it this morning.

As I walked into the station, the person in front of me had just released the door, and it was swinging shut. I reached out with my right hand, palming my CTA card, and held the door. What I didn't count on was the impact on my hand would cause it to close, ever so slightly, and snap went the card.

This also has the upsetting nature of making the card unusable- so I'm stuck using the "old fashioned" cards that you actually have to dip into the machine. Not something I'm looking forward to at all.

But, here we are.

Sorry, old friend. I hope things are ok for you in that big CTA Station in the sky.

I guess these guys don't follow the MLS.

Honestly, neither to I, but it's pretty clear to me that these folks haven't heard of the Chicago Fire, named after the Great Chicago Fire.

Remind me to try this next time.

Customer(TV BLARING in the background): I can't hear you.
Me: Sir, could you turn down the television?
Customer(TV STILL BLARING in the background): I'm sorry, I can't hear you.
Me: *CLICK*

I think that might save me the trouble and probably a coronary or two.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

There's a certain snobbishness about me. It comes from years of working jobs where I answer questions for people I deem to be stupid.

Mind you, I try to not judge people, but sometimes, when I hear or see a member of the general public open their mouth, I cringe in anticipation of what's going to come out.

For instance, when I worked in a record store, if someone walked in, went to the stacks and couldn't find something, then asked, I was more than happy to help them. The people I wasn't happy to help were the ones that didn't try- the ones that walked in the door, and asked to be shown where something was.

Basically, I see it this way- in the real world(ie, outside of school) you are expected to assimilate information on your own. You're a grown up. You should only need help if you've exhausted your ability to analize the information that is presented to you. Say, in the forms of big, well-lit signs that say "Jazz Section" and the like.

So, when I get a call today from a client who wants to make some changes on what quotes he accesses. This is a simple task, but for some reason, he chose to call us up, because he couldn't find the actual area to change his quotes. The reason why?

Oh, it's good.

He was on the right page, but hadn't scrolled down.

Come on, world. Give me a damn break. Learn to read.

Finally taking the SAT

Well, not the one that you're thinking of. The Sexual Aptitude Test.

I got me a 17.

Thanks to Jen(nifer) for posting it.

Blogger woes part 2^260199

So, blogger was down for, well, yesterday. I was pretty disappointed.

Friend and reader Postmodern Sass was pointing out to me about how having patience with blogger and making backups of my posts would be a good idea, when blogger decided to post her comment 6 times(hence all the deletions). The irony wasn't lost on either of us.

But I wrote a little yesterday, got frustrated with trying to get it posted, and just copied it all into a Notebook file. Here's the stuff:

Take the quiz: "What does your birth month reveal about you?"

October
Loves to chat. Loves those who loves them. Loves to takes things at the center. Inner and physical beauty. Lies but doesn't pretend. Gets angry often. Treats friends importantly. Always making friends. Easily hurt but recovers easily. Daydreamer. Opinionated. Does not care of what others think. Emotional. Decisive. Strong clairvoyance. Loves to travel, the arts and literature. Touchy and easily jealous. Concerned. Loves outdoors. Just and fair. Spendthrift. Easily influenced. Easily loses confidence. Loves children.

It was silly. I was bored. I don't agree with everything it says. I am not jealous, nor easily influenced. Whatever. It's just a stupid quiz, with a grand total of one question, right?

Knee update.

Can you believe that it's been 6 months since I had surgery number 3? Me, neither. So, I decided to update the good ol' pictures folder with another practical guide to Dave's knee. The original is here. In the new picture I've labeled the old sutures, now scars, with the exception of Righty, who you really can't see in that picture. Gone also is the no-shave zone, and the 38th Hairellel is now moot, as the hair has (finally!) grown back in. New on the map is the Garelich Expanse. Also known as the Noid, as my Physical Therapist and I called it for a while. This is the part of my IT band that was removed this time, so that I might walk, run, bike, and all those other fun things in relative comfort.

And I've been flushed from the bathroom of your heart.

Damn you blogger for eating my post. Damn you.

Anyways.

For those of you wondering what's going on in the Dave Matthews Band Bus-Chicago River issue, well, there's been some resolution. While I'm happy the money is going to the Park District and to the Friends of the Chicago River, I'm wondering, what do the people who were doused get?

Something tells me a new shirt and a tetanus shot wouldn't quite do it for me.

A little push was all I needed.

I went through and deleted a bunch of links on my blogroll, as I mentioned way back in this entry, I had a minor moral dilema with deleting blogs, but I've gotten past it. At least, for now I've gotten past it. So, if you're one of those who got axed, and you start blogging again, please let me know, as I enjoyed reading your blogs, and would like to continue to do so, when you come back.

Thanks.

So, Lisa, do you like, stuff?

I had a weird morning. First, I had a wonderfully bizarre dream that involved public transportation here in Chicago. I was at the Chicago el stop, playing guitar for a group of people who were limboing. Very odd. It was topped off with an evil James Brown-looking guy who carried a scepter that was a microphone. Somehow I wound up in Winnetka by taking the wrong train, which turned into a bus. Eventually I just woke myself up, because things just got too damn weird(thank you lucid dreaming).

What's even stranger is that as I was headed to work this morning, my train pulled into the Paulina stop, and we were told that the train was being taken out of service. Wow. There's nothing like a relatively crowded train suddenly having to disembark, then wait for another oddly crowded train to board and sardine our way to work. I wasn't happy about that.

But, I think it's kinda weird that I had that dream, then that experience.

As usual, good point.

Cynthia left a comment back on this post that I have yet to share the earth-shattering news. She's very good at keeping me on my toes and honest to my readers. A round of applause definitely should go her way.

No, I'm not getting married. Yet.
No, I'm not a Mega Millions winner. Yet.

But I am going to be an uncle. Well, a step-uncle, as it were. My oldest step-sister from my fathers second marriage is going to have a baby in September.

Of course, I am already, technically a step-uncle to several children, but through my mother's second marriage, and I don't know them nearly as well, almost all of my step dad's children are older than I am, so while I am closer in age to them, I relate better with my step sisters, as they lived in the same house I lived in(although they have lived there a whole lot longer than I did), and I watched them grow up.

That's the part that's really getting me- that I'm 10 years older than she is. Although props to my dad for saying "I think my step-children will reproduce before my biological children do." Little did he know how right he is. While my brother is married, I don't think they're in that big a hurry to have kids. Myself, while I still have paternal instincts, strong ones at that, am still playing the field looking for Ms. Right.

So, there you have it, folks. The big, fat, honkin' bombshell. Dropped, defused, and explained.

As usual, good point.

Cynthia left a comment back on this post that I have yet to share the earth-shattering news. She's very good at keeping me on my toes and honest to my readers. A round of applause definitely should go her way.

No, I'm not getting married. Yet.
No, I'm not a Mega Millions winner. Yet.

But I am going to be an uncle. Well, a step-uncle, as it were. My oldest step-sister from my fathers second marriage is going to have a baby in September.

Of course, I am already, technically a step-uncle to several children, but through my mother's second marriage, and I don't know them nearly as well, almost all of my step dad's children are older than I am, so while I am closer in age to them, I relate better with my step sisters, as they lived in the same house I lived in(although they have lived there a whole lot longer than I did), and I watched them grow up.

That's the part that's really getting me- that I'm 10 years older than she is. Although props to my dad for saying "I think my step-children will reproduce before my biological children do." Little did he know how right he is. While my brother is married, I don't think they're in that big a hurry to have kids. Myself, while I still have paternal instincts, strong ones at that, am still playing the field looking for Ms. Right.

So, there you have it, folks. The big, fat, honkin' bombshell. Dropped, defused, and explained.

Busy damn day.

We had a guy out sick today, so my usually crappy Monday turned into a moderately crappier one. This isn't a huge shock- just a pain, and I wanted to bitch. And I'm staying late today. Grumble.

Anyways.

It was a long, fun weekend. Yes, I got out in the beautiful weather yesterday- did a little bike riding. Despite an enormous hangover and a serious desire to just stay in bed. You see, Saturday was my friend A's birthday celebration. We went to one of the best Thai places I've ever been, Yes, ate a wonderful meal, then headed up to the Leadway for more drinks, some of us broke away for a quick karaoke session at Gio's. After returning, we went to a place I have a certain strange history with, the Lakeview Lounge.

Needless to say, after that much partying, a day off would have been awesome. Sadly, I don't have one of those for a while.

But, here I am. Still plugging away.

On the highway to hell.

I forget who said it, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

I had intended today to find a way to start posting my pub quiz rounds, so that those of you who live too far away to come to my pub quiz can try your hand at it. So, around 9, I stumbled to the computer, feeling a little more of a hangover than I had expected. What I should have been expecting was a huge hassle of dealing with my spyware infected computer. Ugh. I got so frustrated after about 15 minutes, I gave up. Then, once I realized that I was going to have to deal with it eventually, I got back online and tried again.

Grumble gumble grumble, curse, curse, curse.

Finally, frustration won out over determination. I turned off my computer in a huff and retired to the sofa. I decided it was high time I got to my Netflix, so I watched Europa Europa. I vaguely remember watching it in the theatre all those years ago, but didn't really remember the film. I was happy. I was warm. My cat was sleeping, as usual, on me.

And that, my friends, is how I've wasted my day.

In my defense, I did get a couple things done. Rent is paid. Lunch was had. A load of laundry was sorted, only to be ignored. What a day.

Lottery Winner!

Ok, ok, ok. Before you start hitting me up for vacations and cars and stuff. Don't worry. It's only $7. Best I've ever done, though. What a waste.

But I would like to welcome my three new lucky numbers: 7, 10, and 35!

Just because.

Because I'm too tired, too busy, and just plain too much, yet another little goofy part of the internet:

Slang Dictionary. Hoot-hoot!
Posted by Hello
Check it here.

Put in your own name, words, phrases, whatever. Let me know what you get.

Another test, to pass the time.

John


Which Beatle are you??
brought to you by Quizilla

Represent.

Today is my little brother's birthday.

Hooray for my little brother!

He is now 29. Vignt-neuf. XXIX. Veintinueve. Twenty-nine. His red crystal is going to start flashing very, very soon.

Seems like just yesterday this happened. Where does the time go?

Light day.

I'm forecasting a light blogging day, if the previous 80 minutes are indicative of how my day's going to go.

It's weird problem day here. Was there a full moon or something?

Another public service announcement. Still no guitar.

You Are a Martini

You're not a total lush, but you do like your drinks strong For you, drinking is an art. An experience to be relished. That doesn't mean you don't get really really drunk. A few strong martini's, and you're dancing on the bar!

What alcoholic drink are you?

Spidey gets biblical.

I don't know much about the bible, but I sure do like the Spider-man version!

Found it over on Fark and just had to share.

Contemplative.

I've got a lot on my mind, mostly stuff that's not ready to be dealt with. Processing- it's what takes far longer for me than it should.

Anyways, I decided to take a look at Chicago's upcoming concert schedule to distract myself from the things I don't want to think about. Sadly, and this may be a sign of my pickiness or perhaps my apathy towards the current music scene(Don't even start me on American Idol. You might not be able to stop me.), but there's so far only one thing I'm considering laying down my hard-earned cash on. Bela Fleck at the Old Town. That would be a blast. Sadly, it's hard to find people who really appreciate his work, so that might be a solo concert event. We'll see.

What else did I find over at Old Town? How about a Didgeridoo Workshop? Hell yeah. I could finally put the thing to really good use, instead of my little experiments with it. I like this idea, and it's only $40. I should be able to swing that.

The bomb, ladies and gentlemen, has been dropped.

There's big news.

Really BIG.

Ok, maybe not that big.

Nah. It's that big.

Problem is, I shouldn't talk about it- at least not publicly. Gimme a couple days(mostly processing time) and I'll share.

Sorry for the teaser.

Delayed thanks.

I had talked this morning about my trip last night to my "somewhat local Kinko's." What I forgot to mention was the kindness of one of the workers, whose name I did not get, but who deserves thanks nonetheless.

When he was cutting the answer sheets, he accidentally cut off one of the letters in the middle of the page. I was apologizing up and down. I told him not to worry, that it was for charity, and my quizzers know that I have no budget, which sometimes mean we get oddly cut answer sheets. He responded with "here, if it's for charity, let's not worry about it."

So, here's to you, Mr. Kinko's Cutting and Binding Guy.

Thankfully, our customers haven't resorted to this.

Yet.

Check out what an irked customer did to his tech support helpers in Norway. Kinda scary.

When I worked at Tower, I had more than a few customers threaten me. One, because I started charging her late fees for her videos. It turned out her 20-year-old daughter was sleeping with one of the supervisors, who waived their fees, and when he left for California, well, no more booty, no more free movies. It was funny. It was funnier when she wasn't allowed to rent with us anymore. Much funnier.

Another guy was trying to return an open VHS tape, and was swearing up and down. I repeatedly asked him to conduct himself in a courteous manner, that I would not be able to help him if he continued to berate me and swear in a public place. Eventually, security was called in, at which time he told me that he'd be waiting outside. He wasn't there when I got off work. I know because I waited for him.

Those are just a couple of times I had that honor of being the object of someone's hate, to the point that they wanted to threaten me. Of course, being the guy running Ticketmaster onsales for 2 years in a row kinda makes you an easy target.

What fun.

The trifecta of Chicago Transit

It's not often that I get to do this, so I'm always pleased as can be when I accomplish the trifecta: 1 Regular fare, 1 transfer, and one free transfer. All this needs to be done within two hours. For most people who need transfers, this is relatively easy. Me, I almost never need to transfer, as my walks to and from the Brown Line are relatively short. So, after getting home from work yesterday, I did a quick inventory of my supplies for pub quiz, discovered that I was light on answer sheets, and had to head to Kinko's to get more printed up. Of course, my computer still needs me to reinstall MS Office, and my printer is at Jen's, so I had to head to her house, print out the answer sheets as well as the pub quiz, then head back down to my somewhat local Kinko's. I got a little nervous about missing the trifecta as I was waiting for my sheets to be cut, but I managed to get back down Southport to the Brown line just in time to see "Transfer $0.00."


The Chicago Transit Trifecta
Posted by Hello

It's the little things in life that make me happy.

I knew I had something to get done today.

But I forgot until about an hour ago.

I still had a pub quiz round to write for tonight. Thankfully, I have a round. I think it's funny- we'll see what the masses think later on tonight.

I've been wondering, for those of you who are located in cities that are not Chicago, or near Chicago for that matter, if you would like links to my rounds, a kind of test-your knowledge type thing? Any interest in that?

Throw away your crystal ball.

2005 is shaping up to be a rather strange year for me- in the way that I know well in advance what I'm doing:

Every Tuesday, with the possible exception of my birthday, which I may spend overseas, I will be running pub quiz at the Globe.
Sunday, May 29th: Bike the Drive.
Saturday & Sunday, June 25-6: MS Tour de Farms.
Monday, July 4: Working, not celebrating the birth of the country that re-elected George W. Bush.
Saturday, September 24: The Accordion-Redhead Wedding.

And that's just the stuff I've already scheduled/bought plane tickets for. I've also got a trip to Minneapolis, Toronto, and Portland, Oregon in the works. Eventually, I should probably get back into school, too. It's about that time.

Oh, and for those of you thinking "there's plenty of time between now and then," welcome to March.