Last night we went to this local Asian market because we were cooking Thai with some friends. Apparently, between the leaving the market and getting into our car, the fiancee unknowingly drops her cell. About two hours later, we get ready to leave the house to meet our friends.

"Where's my phone?"
"Iono. Lemme ring your bling." I dial, the phone begins ringing. The fiancee runs hither and thither trying to find it or hear the ringing. Then someone picks up. It was a little weird.
"Heh-ro?" Thick Asian accent.
"Um. Where are you?" The fiancee is giving me the fish eye, she's only hearing my side of the convo, and she wants to know what's up. I'm now having two conversations with one mouth. "Someone has your phone."
Asian stranger: "I have your phone."
Me: "Yeah, um. Are you at the Saigon Market?"
Fiancee: "Who is it? Where are they?"
AS: "No, I have a meeting."
Me: "Can we meet you somewhere to pick up the phone?"
F: "Where will they meet us?"
AS: "What? I have a meeting?"
Me: "She has a meeting or something. I have no clue what she's saying. WE CAN MEET YOU AT THE SAIGON MARKET." I'm beginning to think some village in Korea or maybe on the high steppes of China has lost their idiot; an idiot who has managed to find this particular cell phone. I have an epihpany: When Rube Goldberg died, God made him fate's architect.
F: "What the fuck? She has a meeting? She's got my damn phone! We can meet her at her meeting." We begin speeding through the city streets toward the Asian market, just to see if the owner has it, or anyone said anything to her. I have a hunch it's probably not the owner of the market, but I'm willing to satisfy a little curiosity.
Me: "We can meet you at your meeting. Just tell us how to get there."
AS: "What? I can't hear you. Why do you need to come to my meeting?" She said it pleadingly, like, 'Why are you torturing me?' Almost like she was complaining.
Me: "Because you have our phone. Where can we meet you then?"
F: "She won't meet with us? Jesus! She's stealing my phone."
AS: "I can't meet you tonight. I have a meeting, it's going to be late. Call me tomorrow." She's still complaining, like a kid who wants some candy and you won't give it to them. She hangs up.

I look back at the fiancee and she's ratcheted up somewhere between 'Pissed' and 'Murderous Rage'. "That bitch won't give us the phone? Why the fuck did she answer then?" She's flying around corners, I think we just knocked a delivery boy off his moped. We're driving down the shoulder, straddling the curb. Pedestrians on the sidewalk throw their belongings in the air and dive out of the way. It's complete bedlam.

One of our friends calls me. "Dude, I just called your fiancee's cell, and some weird Chinese woman answered. She started asking me whose phone she was talking on."
Fiancee: "Who's that? Is that the bitch who stole my phone?" We fly through an intersection, narrowly missing a school bus, and pass an ambulance with it's lights flashing.
Me: "Asian."
Friend: "What?"
Me: "Nevermind. Yeah, some lady picked up her celly and now it's like, too much of a pain in her ass to give it back to us. I gotta call you back."
Friend: Laughing. "Ha! What? Well, good luck with that, the Chinese are a hard-bargaining people."
Me: "What?"
My friend hangs up on me. That's two hangups in a row.

We arrive at the Asian market and speak with the owner. She obvisouly doesn't have the phone, and no one said anything about it to her. She wishes us luck. Damn. Back in the car towards our friends' place.

We decide to call back the Asian Stranger who's falsely imprisoning our phone.
"Hi."
"Hello? This your phone?"
"Yeah, look we can meet you anywhere. We've got to have the phone back tonight." I begin to tell her a lie about us getting married tomorrow. I really get myself worked up good. She's ruining our wedding. Our day, you cold hearted beast, you. I imagine myself accepting an Oscar. I cry, I thank Jesus and my children. The music begins playing...
"I can't hear you. Fine. I meet you at ten."
"Okay, well, where at?"
Hangup number three for the evening. I'm having a swell half hour here.

The fiancee has finally peaked, and upon attaining 'Violently Irate', she begins spewing death threats, curses upon future descendants, plagues, and all manner of grotesque physical injuries. I try to call the cell back, but the Asian Stranger has turned the phone off. I mumble something about this newest development and we damn near slam into a telephone pole. The fiancee's anger is now so powerful, that it has become it's own entity. She has become so filled with rage that it begins to manifest itself physically. His name is apparently Vincenze. He calls himself a businessman in a way that makes me think he's a hitman. It's appropriate anyways.

We call periodically over the next few hours, just to see if maybe the Asian Stranger has gotten out of her meeting early. It's straight to the voicemail every time. We never hear back from the Asian Stranger.

We eventually went to the Cingular store this evening, having given up on ever seeing our little lost celly again. She got one of the Razor V3's. It's frickin' awesome, and I am highly jealous. I can't get an upgrade until January, maybe the fiancee will let me borrow hers until then. I promise to give it back.

Posted by: shank at 09:08 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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Five days ago I quit smoking. I canÂ’t adequately describe the discomfort, both mental and physical, that accompanies this endeavor. It really ratchets up the pressure. Last night I had a huge fight with my wife and demanded we start divorce proceedings. In the end I decided to just pick up my socks and put them in the hamper, which started the whole thing. I wish I was exaggerating. IÂ’ve got an uncomfortable patch on my ass that does absolutely nothing to stop the cravings.

IÂ’m thinking heroin might be a good substitute for nicotine at this point. At least heroin addicts get methadone.

On another note, IÂ’m anti-Podcast. All of a sudden everybodyÂ’s David Sedaris. Personally, I could never do it, even if I had something to say. In my case it would just be me reading my posts off a sheet of paper. Hemingway would never have gone in for that crap. Then again, he put his brains to the wall with a twelve gauge.

IÂ’ve listened to a few bloggers Podcast and it was universally depressing. Nothing to say, no style and no charisma. They were doing it simply because they could. Secondly, once I heard their voice it was over for me. Too squeaky. Too flat. Too slow or too fast. A dull monotone with no dynamics. It completely destroyed my image of them and put me off their writing. (IÂ’m not talking about you.) I know thatÂ’s wrong, but itÂ’s true.

Maybe I’m too old-fashioned. Or just too old. When I was growing up Abercrombie & Fitch sold fly fishing equipment. They sold clothes too, of course, but it was nice stuff. Kind of out-doorsy business casual clothes, but with more class than the khaki pants “uniform” most people are wearing now. I still have some nice ties from there. Now it caters almost exclusively to the FWRA (Future White Rappers of America) and I’m afraid to go in there without knowing the proper gang signs. Not that I would ever wear anything they’ve got nowadays. I’ve moved over to Brooks Brothers. I’ve got suits or Levi’s and not much in between.

I was thinking last night, as I convulsed from nicotine withdrawal, that some people have really fucked up haircuts. Donald Trump comes to mind. Here’s a guy who’s got more gold than the Vatican and he can’t get a decent haircut. Imagine going into a hair salon and saying, “I’ll have the Trump!”

“One Trump, coming up!”

“How much will that cost?”

“$15 for the cut and $46 for the hairspray.”

And while weÂ’re on the topic of Trump, I think heÂ’d be less of a dickhole if he took a few bong hits once in while. I havenÂ’t hit a bong in fifteen years, but if memory serves, it was the great equalizer. IÂ’d love to see that guy take his coat off, mess up his hair and lay into a pound of fudge.

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 09:29 AM | Comments (11) | Add Comment
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I'll just tuck this in the extended entry, because it's not a happy thing. more...

Posted by: shank at 11:24 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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1 I'm working to change an organization of nearly 4,000 employees that tells me "But this is the way we've always done things." Your new job is at my company? Holy shit!

Posted by: Jim at December 02, 2005 05:30 AM (oqu5j)

2 I'm working to change an organization of nearly 4,000 employees that tells me "But this is the way we've always done things." Most people are afraid to leave their comfort zones. Most people understand that 2+2=4, but are not interested in 3+1=4, etc. Most people are barely able to do their current jobs. Most people live in state of fear which lurks just under the surface. I'm a man of action. My fear doesn't lurk...I'm on red alert all day. That's why I'm on the ball and embrace change. You're facing a common problem that almost all executives have to fight all day. I've been successfull by leaving them no "outs". "This is why we're changing. This is how we're changing. Please complete the change by this date. If you are unable or unwilling to support this change, I will run you over with the rest of the winners trampling close behind me." As for the church, just after I went through all the rigamarole to get married in church, against my will and for the benefit of my wife, a priest told me he didn't want my kind in church. "What's my kind?" I asked. "People that never want to go to church." "Fair enough. We'll both be a lot happier." I now go to church on occaision, when I'm in europe, and there's no mass being held, and the building was constructed several hundred years ago and filled with priceless art. That's my kind of church-going. As for cars, I seem to blow through O2 sensors once a month, at $600 bucks a pop. As soon as the car was out of warranty they started going left and right. Seems the old lady has four in her car that go out reguarly. You can't win. No matter how fast you run the race, you cannot win. Once you realize that you tend to relax a lot more.

Posted by: Paul at December 02, 2005 08:24 AM (vbP6L)

3 A wise person once told me that insanity is doing the same thing over and over and over expecting a different result each time. Furthermore, *bubabubabubabubabuba*.

Posted by: DeAnna at December 02, 2005 11:57 AM (IdVP4)

4 Hey, I'm coming home next week and we can talk out some of this shit. You're one of us, Brother, and you're just like Dad: we're goign to get through all of this (the Volvo is a POS, too, the latest problem being something wrong with the steering column. it's a good thing I40 is so straight, or I probably wouldn't make it home next week. Don't flip your shit, you're going to want that stuff some day!

Posted by: youngers at December 02, 2005 01:17 PM (vtVDO)

5 Dude... relax. The more serious you take life the more likely it is to run you over. Don't worry about your religion, it is YOUR religion (or not)... don't let anyone else tell you what to do with it... do you really care what the priest thinks? Your car - yeah, shit happens. Don't worry about it... get it fixed and move on. If you were meant to be homeless so be it... Work - fuck. Your company is just like everyone elses... do what you can and don't worry about what the other fuckers are moaning about... I like the adage from Paul, "If you are unable or unwilling to support this change, I will run you over with the rest of the winners trampling close behind me." Deep cleansing breath - now move on...

Posted by: Wendy at December 02, 2005 03:51 PM (FYcXB)

6 deep breaths actually, really, are the poopoo.

Posted by: youngers at December 03, 2005 09:54 AM (4hSmc)

7 Have you tried it? You'd be surprised...

Posted by: Wendy at December 06, 2005 12:31 PM (FYcXB)

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The best thing about Wednesday is that there's usually no turds waiting to greet me in my toilet when I get home. Two out of the three boys have "flushing issues" (guess which ones). On Wednesdays my Lovely Wife takes the kids to a neighborhood homeschooling thing so they're not in the house much. Plus, the chief perpetrator (guess which one) makes it a point to poop over there.

Robitussin messes my shit up. I've got a bit of a chest cold and took some before bed last night. The objective was to prevent coughing so I could sleep. Wrongo. It worked on the coughing but I journeyed through the evening in and out of sleep, coming out of and back in to a seriously freaky dream about linear scaling and druidic ceremonies.

My biggest project is losing its chief architect. The guy who designed the entire system that it's being built on. Just as it's starting to get built. The guy who's taking over is very good too, but doesn't have nine months invested in crafting the application. If that isn't enough to bother me there's the fact that today is his last day and I found out about it yesterday. From my client. I'm finding new levels of pissedoffedness to master.

I had six days off in a row (Thanksgiving through Tuesday). Out of a "to do" list a half yard long I accomplished...nothing. Curiously, that gave me a wonderful sense of accomplishment.

It's "World Aids Day". How are you planning to celebrate?

Yeah, that was pretty cold of me. I just lost all respect for these things when they added "Pretzel Appreciation Day", "Hotrod Month" and "Give NAMBLA a Try Week".

Posted by: Jim at 08:05 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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