Apparently being employed makes me boring.

My unique visitors are down about 100 a day since August 13th. Overall monthly stats are down about a thousand.

Only fair, I guess, since I’ve hardly touched RSS feeds in over a week, and don’t even necessarily respond to email the same day anymore. (I’ve had people think I’m mad at them, since I usually reply much faster.)

Man, it’s a whole different world when you can’t get Gmail at work and you’re too busy to read RSS feeds…


The niece has a belly button. Cute one, too, and some serious abs. Bitch.

About damned time. Umbilical cords are gross. (Yeah, yeah… life-giving… whatever…)

Yes, I did take pictures, but she was sleeping, and had a blanket thrown over her lower half, so no belly button shots. There’s plenty of time for Live! Nude! Girls! photos later. 🙂


shopping teams, nerd + non-nerd

(Comic from xkcd, of course.

Nerds, it would seem, come in all shapes and sizes. For example, my Dad can barely turn on the computer by himself. Andrew is a software developer.

Length of time taken by my Dad to buy a new chainsaw when he decided the three he already had weren’t cutting it (har har): six months.

Length of time taken by Andrew to decide whether or not to add a $5 service option to his cell phone plan: six months and counting.

And, for contrast…

Length of time it took Melle (with Sherry) to buy a car: one Saturday afternoon.

Unfortunately, my Mom is a switch-hitter and you never know if she will nicely offset my Dad, or if she will add her own nerd-o-riffic tendencies to the mix and make things SO MUCH WORSE. 🙂

Do not let Andrew’s macho exterior fool you…

So last evening I was flipping through the glossy orgy of slaughtered trees that is the New York Times Sunday Edition fall fashion special insert magazine. And on one page was a photo of a shoe. A black patent leather, gold accented, high-heeled, platform Gucci mary jane shoe, if you must know.

I think the photo was part of a store ad (I’m too lazy to go check), because the price of those shoes was listed.

So I covered the price, showed Andrew the ad, and asked how much he thought those shoes cost.

He said $800.

The price listed was $795.

Where’s the beef? Fucking everywhere…

When it comes to my pets, I tend to have an attitude of “we’ll try just about anything once”. Toys, treats, food, etc. Of course, when you get a new pet, it takes a while to determine how digestively-attuned the creature is. I’ve had pets who would gleefully fight over who got to consume more of that July-sunshine-cured-roadkill one of them dragged home, and pets who would puke from even thinking about eating anything other than their usual food.

Since February, I have learned that Anatole (like the Crumb), will throw up within minutes if fed Pounce treats. Temptations it is. He also will not eat beef-flavoured wet foods. Poultry and seafood flavours of any description are welcome, however, unless they are expensive and organic, in which case he won’t even take a test taste. (Basically, he wants the cat food equivalent of Chef Boyardee.) And despite intermittently yakking one up, he will not touch hairball remedies of any flavour.

He is slightly less picky than the Crumb was on the subject of meats — chicken, beef, fish, etc. Of course, when he catches a whiff he INSISTS he wants some. Whether he’ll actually eat it remains to be seen. But, hell, I tricked him into eating Tofurky one time, so… yeah. 🙂

We discovered yesterday, when I was prepping steaks for marinating, that Anatole cannot eat raw beef. (Our dogs always ate raw meat, and cats are more carnivorous than dogs, so why not treat them, too?) I dropped three morsels in his dish (in total volume equally about half a teaspoon of meat). He promptly consumed them. Good stuff.

However, within half an hour, I learned that Anatole cannot stomach raw beef, despite his apparently fondness for it. I learned this when he puked on the coffee table. Then on the living room rug. I had to run some errands after cleaning it all up, and when I returned home he has since puked on the front mat. (You ever try cleaning semi-congealed cat barf from one of those hard-textured rubbed-backed mats? Cripes.)

This digestive distress did not, however, prevent him from hollering for his supper at 5pm (a quarter-can of wet food — seafood medley this week, I believe). He ate it as usual and seemed no worse for wear.

I didn’t really look around the living room last night when I got home from UFC at Violet and Coffee’s around 1am. If I had, I would have discovered what I ended up not seeing til this morning — two more piles, another on the coffee table (and down the side, and on the rug), and the last, FOR ONCE, on the wood floor, which was blessedly easy to wipe up.

Bloody hell, dude.

I am thoroughly convinced, of course, that the Baby Jesus opened a can of Schadenfreude-flavoured whoop-ass on me for mocking my brother last week for his disgust over the assorted sounds, smells, and substances leaking, squeaking, and splattering out of his newborn daughter.

Point taken.


My brother and Patience have a bassinet which appears to have settings for auto-rocking and/or vibrating.

I am fairly certain that there haven’t been been any major evolutionary leaps in how babies are put together or function for… well, a bloody long time.

Makes one wonder how my poor Grandma managed to raise 10 children without such necessary accoutrements. 🙂

You ain’t in Kansas anymore, Dorothy…

For the last two weeks, frequently when I’ve been introduced to new folks at work, one of their first questions is some variant of “So where did you come from?”

Except what’s rather new for me is that, to a one, they all mean, “So which team/group/department did you move to this role from?” Such is the frequency with which people move around and are promoted internally. Coming from a company where most career paths were about one flagstone long and ended at brick walls (I worked with a girl who essentially ran the same reports for upwards of six years…), this is a big and fairly inspiring cultural shift for me.

What’s funny, though, is that they always realize, as an afterthought, that I might be truly new, and so they tack on an “Or what… company…?” However, when I mention I was at another insurance firm, I become almost internal, which gives me a bit more cred. 🙂

And this afternoon as we coffee’d, my friend Paul (who has been at the company for yonks), asked if I like it so far. And I could answer honestly that yes, I do. To be able to say this is a good, and long-time-coming thing for me.

Retail confusement!

Cripes, it’s been a while since I’ve been down to Fairview mall. They changed a few things.


Seriously, do you know how discombobulating that is? I drive in and prepare to turn right into the main parking area, except… you can’t. There are curbs. Because now you navigate through and park the other way. Sheesh.

Gotta give them props for the work they’ve done inside, though. They’ve certainly classed up the joint. I’d actually eat in the food court now. Well… not eat, most of the vendors are the same… Maybe have an A&W Root Beer Float. Mmm…

The new crop of yuppie vendors amuses me as well. Presumably the result of hiked rents and some ‘spensive market/demographic research of the greater Kaydublian area.

Oh, and Dear Laura Second: quit making the mini French Mint chocolate bars smaller and more expensive, dammit. YES, WE NOTICE. AND SOMETIMES WE HAVE PMS. DO NOT TEST US…