Yes, you. Driving in your tricked out dedication to mass produced individuality, slouched low in the seat in unintentional but humorous immitation of a blue haired suburbanite, single hand at the 12:00 position to further degrade your already sabotaged field of view, four busted 15" speakers belching out the cracked baseline of the lastest gangsta turned hipster. You are not a playa. You are a jackass. As you tool through the bucolic streets of Duluth there is not a single person who sees you and buys your pathetic attempt at cultural impersonation. When you pulled up next to me at the stoplight it gave me extreme pleasure to bollux your attempt to race ahead and cut in front of me on our little one lane road. How did it feel to have your lowrider riceburner outclassed by an aging Aerostar?

Posted by: Jim at 11:59 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 146 words, total size 1 kb.

There's a man who leads a life of danger
To everyone he meets he stays a stranger

I woke up this morning with this song running through my head.

With every move he makes another chance he takes
Odds are he won't live to see tomorrow

And it just won't leave!

Secret agent man, secret agent man
They've given you a number and taken away your name

That refrain especially just keeps knocking back and forth rising to my stream of conciousness at the most inappropriate time.

Beware of pretty faces that you find
A pretty face can hide an evil mind

Damn it, Johnny Rivers! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!

Ah, be careful what you say
Or you'll give yourself away
Odds are you won't live to see tomorrow

You know there's only one reliable way to get rid of a song in your head. That's to firmly implant it in somebody else's head.

Swingin' on the Riviera one day
And then layin' in the Bombay alley next day

You're providing the head for this particular song exorcism. Sorry to do this to you. Normally I'd walk over and lay this on G but he's still on vacation.

Oh no, you let the wrong word slip
While kissing persuasive lips
The odds are you won't live to see tomorrow

Feel free to bitch at me for this unwarranted and evil thing I have done to you. You may freely curse my name each time the devilish refrain pops unbided into your thoughts throughout the day.

Secret agent man, secret agent man
They've given you a number and taken away your name

Ahhh...freedom.

Posted by: Jim at 09:21 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 279 words, total size 2 kb.

I went to bed pissed last night. It was partly because of what happened to Kate and partly because a simple oil change and tire rotation on the family truckster ended in a quote for a grand to fix things that we just fixed last year. Predictably, I had a dream that reflected my somnolent attitude. Unpredictably, I remembered it and it's another doozy.

I'm standing in front of a desk in a big room, like a cafeteria. Old Old Boss is sitting behind the desk in his oh-so-comfy big ass executive leather chair. Now this is Old Old Boss, not Old Boss. That is, he's from the company I left in Buffalo to come down to Atlanta. In real life we had parted on good terms and, though we haven't stayed in close contact, the few times we've spoke or written have been very cordial. Dream Old Old Boss was like that - friendly and smiling. Decent start for a dream.

He talks for a little while about how great it is to have me working there and then just sort of stops talking. This is where the dream starts to go downhill. It's obvious to me that the conversation is over but he hasn't really ended it. It would be disrespectful for me to just leave so I stand there expectantly waiting for him to continue or conclude. The silence gets uncomfortable so I take the initiative and offer a hand for shaking and say something like "Thanks, it's great working here. I guess I'll see you later." He smiles and shakes my hand. As I'm turning to go he calls me back, says "You'll need this" and hands me a short report.

I walk out the door into the hallway. The hallway is odd - like in a high school with lockers lining the walls. There are lots of people walking to and fro. I look at the report and suddenly understand that I was just in my review. That silence from his was just him waiting for me to ask for a raise. I blew it! No raise! Sonofabeetch!

I turn around to go back and talk to him again. Maybe I can explain that I was confused or something and bring up the raise. As I walk back I start reading the report. The first item is Product Quality and has a rating of 2.4. The written explanation for the rating is "Software hangs. Too many bugs." I look at other items and most of them have ratings in the 3.6 to 3.9 area. I go to the back page and see that the scale is from 2 to 4.

I stop walking. I was not a software analyst at that job, I was the Executive Assistant. I did most of the custom programming but it was well outside my job description - not an item that would be number one on my review. Then I realize that this review is for my current job. Old Old Boss just did a job review for my position in software QA! I've received a review with a rating of almost as absolutely low as you can get in my primary area of responsibility.

Now I'm pissed. First of all Old Old Boss, nice as he could be, was not what you would call a technofile. He knew his industry backwards and forwards and he knew people well but he was not kin to the computer. How the hell could he possibly review my work in a pure technology field? Second, I do damn fine work. Since I took over QA on my product line the incidence of reported bugs has gone way down, customer satisfaction with new releases is way up and (most telling) the overall incidence of bugs found in new release features is at an all time low.

And I was rated 2.4 on a scale of 2 to 4?! Now I was furious and stormed back into the room ready to rant and rave. I get in the cafeteria sized room and it's now a bloody cafeteria with tables, serving line and lots of people eating their lunches. I stand there fuming. No Old Old Boss to confront over the unfair review, no recourse possible, I'm helpless to combat the situation at all.

Then I woke up. Pissed. Anybody care to conjecture just what the heck is going on with my id and ego here?

I just realized something odd. Maybe it isn't so unpredictable that I remembered this dream. I picked the name for this blog from a conversation I had with G. He was late for our car pool and said he was waylaid by a snooze button dream. That was the first time I'd heard the term and it really tickled me so I used it here as my title. Since I started this blog I have remembered more dreams than any other time in my life. The couple I've written about and quite a few others that haven't made the cut. Maybe because I have an outlet to share them so there is a value to remembering them? Maybe just because the word 'dream' is in my face several times a day? Maybe just because I'm writing again each day so the creative juices are flowing? I don't know but I'd be interested in finding out.

Posted by: Jim at 07:15 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 902 words, total size 5 kb.

Promethazine, promethazine,
lovely cherry flavor.
How you make my days float
and entertain my dreams.
Awake or asleep there is no difference
as the burden of my conciousness is lifted
by sweet, sweet promethazine.

I've got a bad chest cold. It came on like a freight train last night after tickling me with threats the whole day. Taking some lovely syrup which allows me to breath at will without disgorging a lung but I'm feeling a bit loopy. Don't expect much coherence from me this day.

Posted by: Jim at 01:45 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 92 words, total size 1 kb.

De's having a problem with arsehole neighbors. Not the "borrow your weed eater and never return it because they accidentally dropped it in the pool and it is so fubar that the guy at Home Depot actually laughed when they asked him if it was fixable and there's no way these people are going to buy a weed eater themselves that's why they borrowed yours to begin with and they're especially not going to pay good money to buy somebody else a weed eater despite the fact that they damn well owe you a freaking weed eater but then they start giving excuses why they still haven't returned it and then start avoiding you until you finally corner them and they admit they broke it and promise to replace it 'soon' but never do and then they really avoid you like the plague until you are finally forced to urinate in their air conditioner unit in retaliation" type. No, definitely not that type. Hers are the loud and obnoxious arguer type.

I was in a similar situation once. I lived in the upper apartment of a duplex house and the people in the downstairs apartment alternated between psychotic caterwaling arguments and 70's screaming porno sex. Always starting after midnight and lasting just a few minutes short of eternity. The arguing that is, the screaming porno sex was generally blessedly short. Go figure.

So I was in a situation and saw 4 ways to resolve it:
1) Grab my ankles and take it.
2) Call the cops.
3) Talk to them.
4) Get creative.

Number 1 was right out. I take my hobbies seriously and sleeping is my number one hobby. For a successful night's sleep I need a minimum of 4.5 hours of uninterupted somnolent repose. The timing of their activities prevented this necessary component of acceptable sleep.

I was hesitant to try number 2 for the same reason DeAnna is. Namely, I didn't want to be one of "those people" that call the cops on a neighbor because they're irritating you. Don't get me wrong, if one of their battle royales had ended in a high pitched scream and sudden silence I would have called down a pork attack on their domicile in a heartbeat. It just seemed wrong to do it for what realistically amounts to just a bit of annoyance.

I tried number 3. In a duplex you share the basement and I would bump into Madam Screamer there on occasion while doing laundry. On one such incident I hinted strongly that their nocturnal actions were unacceptably disturbing. I don't remember exactly what I said but it was along the lines of "You guys are so freaking loud with your murderous rampages and brain-screwing-outing that I wake up each night in cold sweats and a mild heart attack. If you had air conditioning I would be seriously considering urinating into it." That quieted things down for a blessed two weeks. Then the vocal assault picked up again sporadically until settling into its familiar mind shattering routine.

I tried number 3 again. This time it was Mister Screamer I spoke with, telling him something like "I have no problem with you verbally assaulting your significant other or attempting a craniectomy via vaginal insertion but your timing makes it impossible for me to get a decent night's sleep. I am seriously considering buying you an air conditioner so I can urinate in it." Peace lasted almost 3 weeks this time until a drunken brawl broke the ice and the nocturnal assault came back in full force.

Talking obviously wasn't working so I decided to go for number 4. I'm not especially creative but this situation put me in an inspired state. At that time I didn't have a wife or kids. What I did have was one fantastically loud sound system on the old Gateway computer. I also had a brother who was an electronics junkie who let me borrow some very nice reel to reel recording equipment.

You can probably see where this is going. You see I worked early in the morning. They slept in until God only knows when. I started recording their vociferous spats and their ferocious copulation. These audio captures then went onto a wave file and were replayed at considerable amplitude for the enjoyment of my inconsiderate neighbors when I left for work at 5:30. Each time they rowed or screwed in assaultive fashion I saved it and also added it to the Big Ass Wave File of Guaranteed Sleeplessness. I would then play the most recent attack followed by the complete collection when I left for work.

This worked much better than talking had. At first there was little reaction besides foul looks when I ran into them, as if my actually proving that there was no avoiding their nocturnal cacophanies was an invasion of their privacy. But after the third or fourth retaliatory strike the incidence of attack diminished to only an occasional outburst.

Note that this exchange of audio barrages did not make us the friendliest of neighbors. Then again there was no real loss there as they were already suck ass neighbors in any case. They moved out a couple of months later when their lease expired and as far as I know they've been happily making their neighbors' lives miserable ever since. Hmmm...Deanna, your trouble couple wouldn't happen to be named Larry and Stacey, would they?

My one regret is that the ol' Gateway suffered hard drive meltdown. I bet that wave file would be an instant classic if I could post it here.

Posted by: Jim at 07:41 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 950 words, total size 5 kb.

So I'm out back having a smoke break with a couple of my coworkers and (as often happens) talk turns to the situation in Iraq. At one point I mentioned that I hadn't voted for Bush but I was now very happy that he had won the election. Anonymous Coworker #1 replied with "I didn't vote at all 'cause I didn't like any of the candidates." Now this is a coworker who is well read and stays fairly current on world affairs and local happenings. I must have had a pretty interesting look on my face because conversation died at that point and both coworkers tossed their butts and went back to work. If I hadn't been so stunned by this admission of idiocy the conversation would not have stopped. It would have gone something like this:

Me: You didn't vote?

Anonymous Coworker #1: Nope. Like I said, I didn't like any of the candidates.

Me: You mean the presidential candidates?

AC1: Yeah. I didn't think any of them should have been in office.

Me: So you didn't vote because there wasn't a presidential candidate that you supported?

AC1: Yup.

Me: You are a dumbass.

AC1: What?!

Me: You are a dumbass. An idiot. An imbecile.

AC1: What the hell's your problem?

Me: You just told me that you didn't vote simply because there wasn't a presidential candidate that you supported. Your entire reason for not voting revolved around the presidency.

AC1: Yeah. So what?

Me: Did you know that there was also an election for Senators?

AC1: Well, yeah.

Me: Did you know that we also elected Congressmen?

AC1: Um, yeah.

Me: And that we also elected Public Service Commissioners, State Senators, State Representatives, District Attorneys, Court of Appeals Judges, and Superior Court Judges and a Governor and Lieutenant Governor?

AC1: Ah...I didn't realize there were so many but yeah, I knew there were state positions too.

Me: That's just the half of it. Did you know that there were votes on 7 amendments and 4 referendums and an official question that will affect how we vote in the future?

AC1: I, uh, heard something about those, yeah.

Me: Our local government was also elected at that time. Positions like Commissioner of Agriculture, Superintendant of Schools, Attorney General, Commissioner of Insurance and Commissioner of Labor to name a few.

AC1: (subdued) Yeah. I guess I did.

Me: Did you know that a significant number of those polls swung by 1000 votes or less?

AC1: (very subdued) Yeah, I heard that on the news.

Me: Dumbass.

Posted by: Jim at 08:13 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 434 words, total size 3 kb.

I've just come to realize how pervasive this phenomenon is. Take any two kids, each with their own particular bad habits. Mix them together then separate after 1 hour. Each will walk away with a complete set of their combined bad habits, give or take a couple lesser ones. Take this real life example of my own Bear and his close friend (who we'll call "Bear's Friend") as recorded on our Nanny-Cam:

The Scene: Bear and Bear's Friend are sitting and playing relatively peacefully with Bear's new Ultra Incredibly Cool Nintendo Brand Game Cube while Lovely Wife folds laundry. Lovely Wife gathers the folded laundry and walks off camera (stage left).

Bear's Friend: (looks around the room) She gone?

Bear: (also looks around the room) Yeah.

BF: Cool! What new ones do you got?

B: I was over with Bear's Other Friend yesterday and I got BREAKING EXPENSIVE STUFF. I only had to give him SNEEZING ON DADDY'S PLATE. You got anything that good?

BF: Almost. Last week Bear's Friend's Sister was playing on the floor and then just SPEWED WITH NO WARNING AT ALL. It was awesome. She traded me for TAKING OFF PULLUPS AND PEEING IN THE BED.

B: Hmmm. That's good but you need to do a bit better. Tell you what. You throw in SPEWING WITH NO WARNING AT ALL and that INCESSANT RATTING ON SIBLING that you got last week and I'll trade you the BREAKING EXPENSIVE STUFF.

BF: Deal

B: Cool

(Bear and Bear's Friend shake hands. Bear's Friend picks up the controller for the Ultra Incredibly Cool Nintendo Brand Game Cube and smashes in the top of the Ultra Incredibly Cool Nintendo Brand Game Cube. Lovely Wife rushes into the room (from stage left) to see what the noise was. Bear's Friend looks up at Lovely Wife with a face of cherubic peace. Lovely Wife's face splits down the middle in the first physical manifestation of a conniption.)

Lovely Wife: (furious, loud voice) What in the world are you doing?

BF: (confused, sotto voice) Sorry.

LW: Gaaaaaah!

B: Blaughlupslup

(Bear throws up on the No Longer Quite So Ultra Incredibly Cool Nintendo Brand Game Cube.)

LW: Gaaaaaaah!

The tape cut off here as a random laser beam from Lovely Wife's eyes aparently impacted the video camera.

In any case, although this is anecdotal evidence, it certainly points to a much greater pattern of behavior and perhaps even a juvenile conspiracy. Parents beware.

Posted by: Jim at 12:40 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 423 words, total size 3 kb.

Welcome to Modern Speach 101. Our lesson today is the word y'all and its derivatives.

Let us begin with the boring stuff, just as Mrs. Klutch always did back in high school. Y'all is a variant of You-all that has generally suplanted that longer form as it is more comfortable on the tongue and its use shows that the speaker does not hail from West Virginia. Y'all is singular, All Y'all is plural, Y'all's and All Y'all's are single and plural possessive, respectively.

Phew, glad that's over. Now let's move onto the fun stuff. Why do we need Y'all in all its forms and glory? Because the English language has hamstrung itself with the loss of the plural possesive pronoun. Once upon a time we had Ye and life was good. "Hear ye, hear ye", etceteras. Some time in the early 1800's the use of ye was lost in favor of the generic you. This sucked. I mean really, can you picture the town crier yelling out "Hear you, hear you"? This loss was quickly corrected with regional abberations of you-all. In the northeast we have youse as in "Hey! Youse guys better pay up your vig or Vinnie Two Thumbs is gonna break your kneecaps". In the middle Atlantic states you-all was preserved in its pure form giving us usage such as "You-all should stop going to family reunions looking to pick up chicks". In the south sometime around 1834 the use of y'all gained wide acceptance allowing concise statements such as "Y'all come check this out before I flush it".

Actually, that last example is substandard. The correct sentence would be "Y'all come check this out afore I flush it".

Great care must be made regarding which form of y'all to use. Use these examples of proper usage as a guide:

Addressing a single person or small group representing a larger group:
1) Y'all gonna finish that?
2) Y'all just opened up a fresh can of whoop-ass.

Addressing a group, especially when the group is racially, geographically or religiously distinct:
1) I'd be off the welfare if it weren't for all y'all carpet baggers taking the good jobs.
2) All y'all are just lucky my woman ain't cleaned my white sheet yet from the last lynchin.

Possessive address regarding something belonging to a single person or representative group:
1) Those wheels still on y'all's trailer?
2) Y'all's kids outta third grade yet?

Possessive address regarding something belonging to a group:
1) Dale's car woulda put all y'all's to shame. Earnhardt! Wooo! Never forget!
2) Got me some shine better than all y'all's.

As intimated above, y'all and y'all's can be used in a limited plural form. For beginners it is sometimes advisable to stick to just those two. Incorrect usage of all y'all and all y'all's can identify you as either a Yankee or a Floridian, both with disastrous results.

Posted by: Jim at 10:59 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
Post contains 492 words, total size 3 kb.