Misc.

It wouldn't be a normal day at work for me if someone's computer didn't break and/or do something weird.

Having said that, today was a normal day for me. And to fix that crazy computer, I would liken what I just did to jiggling the handle on a toilet.

It would turn on, but nothing would come up on the screen. I tried numerous things to no avail before calling our helpdesk. We tried some more things together, and none of those worked. My helper then said, "Well, try opening up the computer and checking all the connections."

So I did that. And then the computer started working fine again.

How am I supposed to tell the person who replaces me that "Sometimes (employee)'s computer stops working -- but if you just open it up and jiggle the cords around, it'll start working again" ?

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I just read a very interesting article about a guy who went undercover as a car salesman to see how shady the industry is. I thought I'd share the link:
Confessions of a Car Salesman

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Also, I forgot to mention that I took a picture of the skunk I saw last night. I'd like to share it now. Here.

Close Encounters with the Striped Kind

Well, if anyone was wondering what Pepe Le Pew was up to these days, I can give you an update: He enjoys waddling around the backyard area of my apartment building.

Last night I was walking home from work at my usual time. I turned the corner to enter the rear area of my apartment building. When I arrived in the "yard" area (by which I mean "square of dead grass surrounded by concrete), I glanced left and saw him.

A skunk was coming out of the entryway to my building's "courtyard" (by which I mean "open area in between the apartment buildings that's covered completely in concrete and offers no redeemable value for visiting").

We both froze. He was about 10 feet from me, backlit enough from the courtyard lights to look imposing, but also frontlit enough for me to quickly think "Aw, look at that cute skunk."

The imposing part (and REALITY) promptly took over when his tail quickly stood straight up. I was standing between him and the only exit from our backyard area.

Well crap, I thought.

Okay. It was more of a "OH SH*T!" response in my head.

Looking back on my decision makes me wonder (along with everyone to whom I've spun this yarn in the last 24 hours) why I didn't just turn around to exit the same way I came in? I could've just used the front door and let the little guy exit on his own.

Naaaaaah. My eyes went straight the door of my building. The skunk, the door, and me formed a perfect triangle. I just wanted to get in, he just wanted to get out -- I could accommodate that request.

I walked backwards to the wall behind me, moved along the perimeter of the backyard away from the skunk. I should have been humming the Mission Impossible theme. Had anyone been watching it from the windows of the apartments above our backyard, it would have looked very silly.

So me, the covert spy, finally made it to the bush by the backdoor. And she stood there behind it, hiding. There's no way I could have opened the door without freaking Pepe out. So I waited. And Pepe took his sweet time, but he finally made his exit, tail down, on to his next conquest.

I think had Pepe and I been in the woods somewhere, I would have lost that battle no matter what. He saw me, I was bigger and more threatening (that's the only time I'll ever be considered that in life), and therefore I'm the loser.

Although my loving wife told me later that night, while basking in the joy of not coming home to a stink-covered partner, that skunks apparently have bad eyesight. So once I backed off, he probably just lost track of me and decided to chill out and move on.

But I also think because Pepe is a city skunk, he's probably used to seeing people, which therefore helped me from becoming Stinky McPete who bathes in tomato juice.

So I would like to take this moment to send a shout-out of thanks to Pepe. I appreciate that you gave me a chance to remove myself from the situation before doing anything harsh.

Last night the news was getting all up in a tizzy about how much snow we would receive overnight.

"Up to eight inches of snow! Maybe more!"

I was thinking that eight inches of snow is nothing, but that's not the weirdest part of my transition to becoming somewhat of a New Englander.

The weirdest, and perhaps scariest part, was that when I woke up this morning and saw that there was no snow on the ground -- I was disappointed.

Someone please move me to a warmer climate NOW.

Another Top Ten

I'm stuck on lists right now, especially Top Tens, so here's another:

Heather's Top Ten Things You Don't Want to Hear from the Construction Workers Working in your Office Building*

10- Nah, this isn't messy -- you haven't seen messy yet!
9- Go ahead on through, I can stop the jackhammer for a sec.
8- Well, I think we finally broke the elevator.
7- Yeah, we went ahead and moved the front door again.
6- The bathroom on your floor is now the only working one in the whole building.
5- What's that crashing noise?
4- Try again, we can make that fit.
3- John, what's this blue wire hanging down from the ceiling?
2- Just put some plywood down over that hole to the basement.
1- I'm pretty sure that's not a load-bearing wall.

(*inspired by the last two months of construction on my office building)

Heather's Top Ten Article Ideas for the MSN Site

10- Why Your Breasts Aren't Enough For Him
9- Suck Suck Suck: How Microsoft XP Works
8- Is Your Car a Homosexual? Take this Quiz to Find Out
7- 15 Animals that Could Kick Your Ass
6- How to Really Take Care of the Elderly
5- MSN's Skankiest Celebrites of 2003
4- Hot Hollywood Styles - Ugly is IN again this year!
3- Exclusive: Alec Baldwin tells MSN how to sound like an ass when discussing politics
2- 24 Pictures That Will Make You Vomit
1- Where is Africa?

Bow down!

I always learn something new when I visit my friend Anneliese's house. I've learned new games, I've learned what a salad spinner is and how to use it, I've learned that Poland Spring may in fact really be "What It Means to Be From Maine," and I've learned that Marmite (sp?) is actually nastier than Veggiemite -- if you can believe that.

But last night I entered a special secret society -- a society that knows one of the most well-kept and heralded home-care secrets in all the world.

That's right, I learned how to.....

FOLD A FITTED SHEET!

YES!

You know what I'm talking about! You all know the horrors of having to fold one of those damn sheets with the elastic around the edges. And by "fold" I mean "crumple up into a big ball after trying 15 times to fold the stupid piece of crap."

There I was last night, sitting calmly on Anneliese's couch, when she casually mentioned that she worked in a bed & breakfast for a few summers. I thought, That's neat.

Then, she said she was proud of mastering two important skills while working there. The first was that she knew how to get a bat out of a room, and second was that she knew how to properly fold a fitted sheet.

I smiled with interest at the first skill she spoke of -- but then, when she mentioned the sheets -- I thought, F*CK THE BATS! TELL ME OF THE SHEETS! TELL ME NOW!

All of us in the room grew silent. Our awe in front of a true sheet master was clearly visible, so she continued.

"Right, so to get a bat out of a room you just..." she started.

"F*CK THE BATS!" We all shouted. "TELL US OF THE SHEETS! THE SHEETS!"

Anneliese smiled wisely and knowingly. Then she quickly vanished upstairs to grab one of the toilsome and anger-inducing sheets. The room buzzed with anticipation.

She reappeared within seconds, and the room grew silent again. The lights even grew dim in expectation of the secret that was about to be revealed.

Anneliese moved through the explanation slowly, folding the elastic-edged demon with such skill and poise. Our mouths gaped and all that came forth were gasps of shock at such a revelation.

When she was done, it was as if there were nothing else in the room but a beautifully-folded fitted sheet sitting calmly on the floor in front of us. Anneliese stood over her masterpiece like a hunter over a big dead shot-up woodland creature. We bowed before her, the one true master of the sheets.

I would reveal the secret of the folded sheet to all of you out there, but I'm not sure what the Secret Fitted Sheet Folding Society would do to me. I fear harsh repercussions that could include things like making sure I only own fitted sheets for the rest of my life or adding elastic to everything I must fold in my life.

And with that I leave you. Just know that it is possible. Someday soon, maybe you too will have the ancient secret revealed to you.

I work at the front desk of my office. People walk by our door all the time on the way to the restroom, and every single one of them turns their head to look into our office when they walk by.

I'm getting tired all always having to look busy when they do this. I'm tired of the "Hey, I'm on the phone and typing" position, or the "writing down something important on my desk" position, or my personal favorite -- the "looking important and busy because I'm standing up and looking down our hallway while talking to someone important on the phone" position.

Now I will just start striking random poses when I hear someone approaching the door. Here are some new poses I'm thinking I'll try when someone walks by:

- the "standing on desk beating my chest with my hands like King Kong" position
- the "shirt over my head because I kicked the winning soccer goal" position
- the "face covered entirely in kleenex except for two eye slits" position
- the "draped over the front of my desk like I'm dead" position
- the "wrestling an inflatable alligator in from of my desk" position
- the "pouring gasoline around the entrance while mumbling angrily" position
- the "jumping out of nowhere to scare the onlooker" position

That's a good start, but if any of you have more ideas, please share.

Taste-free

"I know I have acid reflux disease to an extent, but it's never actually made my stomach hurt before," I said to the doctor.

I shifted, loudly crackling the white paper covering the examing table under me. The flourescent lights hummed above me as the doctor scribbled something down on her notepad.

"Usually I just get heartburn, pop a Tums, and everything's fine," I continued, filling the quiet.

"And your stomach hurt all last week?" The doctor asked, looking up from her notepad.

"Yes," I replied. "And that fun pain culminated in a lovely evening of me hurling in a Red Lobster parking lot after my parents' wedding anniversary dinner."

The doctor made a face conveying both pity and humor. We both laughed.

"I know," I said, laughing. "Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad!"

The doctor laughed again. "How is your stomach now?" she asked. It had been only two days since what I now referred to as 'The Red Lobster Incident.'

"Kinda shaky."

She wrote more down on her notepad. I looked around at the degrees on the wall.

"Okay," she continued after a moment of writing. "We'll try something that will hopefully work. Let's try to alter your diet, it may show us whether or not you have an ulcer."

Yikes, I thought. "So this stomach acid problem can really reach points bad enough to make someone vomit?" I hate vomiting.

"Yes."

I shifted, crackling the exam table paper again.

"Okay," I continued after a moment of shifting. "What's this diet going to be like?"

"Bland. Eat bland food for a week. No meats, no dairy, no raw uncooked vegetables -- basically don't eat anything that is hard to digest. Eat rice, crackers, things like that."

"How about sawdust and woodchips?"

She laughed. "I would stick with food. I'll prescribe you some Prevacid-type medicine. Eat your bland diet. Then call me in a few days and let me know how things are working. The medicine should make you start feeling better by about Wednesday or so."

She scribbled out a presciption slip. "Take this to Nancy up front," she said, handing the slip to me.

I looked down at the illegible writing and sighed. "Let's hope this works."

She smiled. I slid off the exam table, the paper crackling behind me. She busied herself at her desk while I grabbed my jacket, opened the door and left her office.