Update... Feb 8, 2006

Time for a brain break… and man oh man do I need it!!!

Boring work story first…

So I have literally been beating my little head against the wall trying to get this server up and running. Think of this task as you are trying to put a microwave oven together, all the parts are laying on the floor, the void above the stove is sitting there waiting to be filled, and you have no manual to tell you how to do this and your frozen dinner sitting next you and you haven’t eaten in a week. That is how frustrating this is. I have been talking with the people at IBM, which may stand for “I Be a Moron!” because have they been help? No. Every time I have emailed them with something, I get over that issue on my little lonesome and then the guy emails me the next day with the solution to that issue that is no longer an issue. But just now, neigh five minutes ago, in cubical far far away… the server came up, the application is running… young skywalker has done it!!! Holy crap, where’s there Tylenol!!! I need a drink. A big drink. A martini, make it double, no a triple, forget it… I am flying to Mexico and having a bottle of tequila on the beach, who’s with me?

Back to my little life… it is little but its mine… wish I could say the same for my ever expanding butt!

So, my twin brother (yes I have a twin brother, for those of you who don’t know him, it would take an entire update just to explain him so I wont do that here) decided to make bean soup. Growing up my mother would make the yummiest bean soup ever. This is like the one dinner that my mom made that all of us liked, and when you deal with 8 kids each with their own discriminating palate that is quite the accomplishment. My brother got a slow cooker for Christmas and has been slow cooking up a storm ever since. The man is addicted to the slow cooker and we are gonna have to do an intervention and get him into SCA (Slow Cookers Anonymous). “Hello my name is Mark and I am a slow cooker addict” So he makes bean soup and we get the invitation to come over. These invitations are so rare it is like finding a hundred dollar bill in your pants that you forgot about… it just doesn’t happen. So we go over to eat and be merry. The food is good and the conversation is fun and light hearted. We are all at the table, my brother, his wife, his two loving sons, my mother, and myself… we start talking about these rough games that we used to play as a kid… you know the kind that you make up and didn’t come in a box from Mattel. One of ours was called “High Voltage”. It was a game in which one person who was proverbially “it” was in the middle of the room with a racquetball and would try to catch people going from base to base. If you were caught you had to lie on the ground, and the person who was it would scream “high voltage!” and would throw the racquetball as hard as they could at your target-esque body. Needless to say this would leave a mark, a welt actually that would gradually bruise. Being the only girl in this little game of terror, I really did have a nice set of markings on me… I looked like a game of “connect the huge black and blue dots”. The conversation moves on, and the boys excuse themselves from the table as the adults stay and continue talking. I am actually considered one of the adults these days, a dubious honor, but mine nonetheless. A few minutes goes by and we are talking, and we here from the other room my oldest nephew scream “High Voltage!”… and we run into the room and he is chancing his little brother around with a tennis ball. This is why you don’t tell stories in front of you children… it gives them awful ideas!!!

The Bachelor…

Ok, so I am over at Mark’s and look at my watch and think, “gee I really need to get going to watch the bachelor” so I urge my mother to leave and we are on the way home… it is only 8:10 or so… plenty of time. My phone rings it is Bella… “Hello”, “Oh my god did you just see that?” “See what?” “The first of the dates, aren’t you watching?”… now I am panic stricken… watching? Watching what? The show wasn’t going to start until 9pm… or so I thought!!! Now I am telling my mom to drive faster, cut across three lanes, cross the double yellow line, this is NASCAR baby… we have to get home!!! My mother continues at the break neck speed of 35mph and I can honestly see my entire past flashing before my eyes. All of the girl scout meetings I was late to, all of the drill team practices I was just tardy to, all of the time I had to stand in the back of the church because it was full… and once again I am feeling the lateness. I am missing it, I am missing the show… the humanity of it all!!! I get home and race to the tv, do not pass “Go”, do not collect 200 dollars. I am glued to the television and it is the best one yet. It is pure drama… women crying, stoic fathers, country bumpkins, and a mysterious yet conspicuously missing ex-finace! So we see our bachelor visiting the homes of these women.

Our bachelor tells us that “all these women are amazing” you know what? We get it. They are great, you don’t have to keep telling us, like you are trying to convince yourself. We know who is great, and who isn’t great… we just wish you did!!! Anyway, he goes to visit hair scary Moana’s family. The first thing he should have said is “Gee, Moana is such a beautiful psycho girl, I see where she gets it!” and smile. But no, he tries to walk the polite line, as her dad completely rakes him over the coals. They were mean, insulting, and antagonistic to this visitor in their home, if I went over there they would have me on a spit in about ten minutes. Cannibals. Does Moana defend this man, oh no! Nope… he’s a man he can take himself. He leaves, and flat out says that he couldn’t handle that all the time. No one could.

Our bachelor then goes to visit the 23 old bachelorette from Canada. He is surprised to find out that she still lives at home. Why is he surprised, she has the maturity level of my 9 year old niece, and said “wicked” about a hundred times on national television… get a vocabulary for godssake, or join a skate board cult. You lexicon is wicked. Whatever.

Then our bachelor goes back to Nashville to hang out with the Waltons. They talk slow, they eat slow, but them are good people. These folks were so nice to him, he couldn’t have asked for more. If he had spilt something on his shirt I am sure Vernita would have knitted him up a spare real quickly, maybe a nice sweater with a big “T” for Travis on it. “Do you like blue,? Because I have a lot of blue yarn with me”.

Then there was scary Susan. Whose mother tells us she broke up with a fiancé to go on this show. Stop the presses people. You break up with you fiancé to go on a dating show? Survey says… Ho Bag! Yes, Susan went to ok “Contender” to “Ho bag” in 3.5 seconds… faster than ford mustang folks, she’s a winner. So her mother flat out tells our bachelor, that she has just met, that she doesn’t think her daughter is in this for the right reasons. Does our bachelor run? No he is thick, the guy got through medical school but cant put it together that if someone’s mother is renouncing them… you need to pay attention to that. That kid is probably not a good kid. Put the fake boobies down and slowly back away.

Our bachelor decides to eliminate the 23 Canadian. It was a good call. There is only so much of that accent that you can take, and she was probably in it for the green card. A few months ago someone said “Hey you could audition for this show?” and she said “Date some guy. Get a green card. Wicked.”

Peace, love, and skaters!!!
Martha