I'm in shorts and a t-shirt. We're going to burn stuff tonight in the big steel barrel. Outside. In December.

I love Georgia.

Posted by: Jim at 02:48 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Generally speaking I work every Monday through Friday. The drive into work is pretty busy. It takes forty-five minutes to an hour (down to about a half hour at the moment with half of the workforce on Christmas vacation). I estimate that I probably see about 2,000 other cars on my way to work. That includes both lanes of traffic and a passing view of the bumper to bumper throughway. The vast majority of them have only a driver. Since this is a pretty rough estimate we'll just say I visually encounter 2,000 people on the way to work.

The ride home is even worse. Call that 2,500 people.

Sometimes I stop at the QT for gas, a danish, maybe coffee. On a busy morning I'll see 50 people there.

I work in a four story building. We've got about 300 people here on any given day. True, I don't interact with but a small fraction of them but we'll stretch the definition a bit and say they're part of my daily encounter.

I might stop at CVS on the way home to get some milk (they have Mayfield milk cheaper than any of the supermarkets and I loooove me some Mayfield). Another 20 people or so there.

Sometimes we might need something from the supermarket. A Wal-Mart stop might even be in order. That's easily another 1,000 people combined.

I also see the most precious people in my world every day. That's four more people.

How many is that now? Let's see...2,000 plus 2,500 plus 50 and another 300...add 20 and another 1,000 then top it off with my four reasons for living. I encounter somewhere around 5,874 people in a busy day.

Now let's say that on my drive to work there were no other cars on the road. None at all. And when I stopped at QT it was empty. Nobody at the pumps. Nobody to run my card for my purchase. When I get to work the parking lot is completely empty. There's no guard at the security desk. There's nobody in the hallway. Nobody in the breakroom. At my stop at CVS I get a deja vu of the QT experience of the morning. Nobody is there. It's the same at Kroger and Wal-Mart. These massive consumer edifices lie starkly abandoned. Normally teeming with people, they are now vacant and deathly silent.

When I arrive home there is no jumble of kids at the door yelling "My Daddy's home!". There is no Lovely Wife waiting to greet me with a kiss.

Say that this happened every single day for half a month. That is about how many people have died from the tsunami in Asia.

I've been trying to wrap my mind around that number - 77,000 dead. I'm afraid that I've managed to do so.

Posted by: Jim at 12:47 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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It tolls for that stinking rat bastard*.

The battles were harsh and more than once our courage faltered but we finally got him using bacon in the traps. He was a valiant foe but he was not a match for the power of bacon.

All told he cost us a squirrel, two birds, several days of rat banquet service as he stripped the traps and a crawl space completely covered with scattered rat shit.

* This is not an empty disparagement. As Georgia in its infinite wisdom has modified its Constitution with limits on the definition of marriage we can be certain that this rat's parents did not form a legal union prior to his birth.

Posted by: Jim at 12:17 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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We went light with dinner on Christmas Eve. The whole day was full of snacking and egg nogging so a big dinner would have been a waste. In any case, the kids wanted to keep it light so they'd be in fighting trim for Christmas morning. The dinner itself was light and refreshing but the conversation was another story.

[The Scene] The Peacock Clan sits around the table eating spiced fries. Occasionally one or more children (and one or more adults) will break into a Christmas Carol. The mood is festive and gay.

Bear: [sings] Jingle Bells! Batman smells!

Bacon: [sings] Robin laid an egg!

Bear: No, Grandma laid an egg.

Bacon: Did not!

Bear: Did so!

Burger: [sings] Grandma got run over by a reindeer...

Bear: [sings] Walking home from our house Christmas Eve!

Bacon: [sings] Robin laid an egg!

[A vocal squabble errupts wherin the relative merits of the Grandma and Robin versions are discussed at length. Eventually a strained silence is achieved.]

Burger: [Leans to the side in the "letting one sneak out" pose] I'm pooping!!

Me: No, you are not.

Burger: Yes I am! At the table!

Lovely Wife: Do you need to go to the potty?

Burger: I'm pooping in my pants! In my pull-up!

Bear: No toilet talk at the table!

[Chaos ensues]

They say that awareness of bodily functions is one of the critical steps towards potty training, so this is progress. That's what I tell myself, anyway.

Posted by: Jim at 11:55 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Merry Christmas from the Peacock Clan.

More adorable pictures at Lovely Wife's place.

Posted by: Jim at 10:26 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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Lovely Wife has the replay.

Posted by: Jim at 11:08 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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Okay, so I'm getting pretty experienced with pain management. The crap I've got requires some form of external medication in order for me to function like a relatively normal person. I say relatively because, let's just face facts here, I ain't never gonna be accused of being normal. Hehe.

Anyway, the specialist I saw (the last doc I saw about whatever I've got) gave me Vioxx. This worked pretty well. When i was taking Vioxx I was pretty much back to regular function. General lack of pain, free body movement, wrestling with the kids, lifting heavy objects, stuff like that. The only thing it didn't really tackle was my feet. Still, it worked and I was in better shape for using it.

Then Vioxx was recalled because it kills people. People on Vioxx have a higher risk of heart attacks and strokes.

Fuck.

I kept taking it anyway, seeing as I didn't have that many left and am not in any particular risk category for heart problems. I looked forward to the day when I could see the doc again and get a prescription for Celebrex, which was the drug that Vioxx users were being switched to (in the majority).

In the meantime I needed something of the over-the-counter variety. I went to my old friends acetaminophen and acetylsalicylic acid. They'd carried me through many a hangover and headache. They sucked. Didn't really get rid of the pain at all. I tried ibuprofen. That worked pretty well but not for a very long time and I had to take a pretty large dose for it to work. It also started to make me violently ill.

Enter naproxen sodium. More commonly known as Naprox or Aleve. Aaaaaahhh!!! (<--- Angels singing)

It worked. Really well. Maybe not quite so well as Vioxx but well enough to function and no stomach problems, no need to overdose. I was happy and relieved that I had found something that worked to take me through to when I could get Celebrex.

Then late last week some problems surfaced regarding Celebrex. It seems that it kills people. People on Celebrex have a higher risk of heart attacks and strokes.

Fuck!

What the hell is up here? Now the FDA is looking into the entire class of drugs and it's possible that they might all be classified as unsafe. The entire class of drugs! This is the class of drugs specifically designed to get rid of the pain I've got.

Fuck!!

But wait, there's more. On my ride into work this morning I heard about a test that is being aborted because the drugs being tested were greatly increasing the risks of patient's suffering heart attacks and strokes. The drugs involved? Celebrex and naproxen.

Fucking Aleve, which has been on the market for 30 years, over the counter for more than a decade, regarded by all as one of the safest pain killers available, is suddenly found to increase risk factors for heart attacks and strokes but this isn't discovered until I need it?

Fuck you, universe!

Posted by: Jim at 11:59 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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I've been laughing myself silly at Boudicca's rodent adventures (Parts I, II, III, IV, V and Conclusion). She had a mouse move into her mini-van and she tells the story in fine style. Somebody was listening to my laughter. Karma, as they say, must balance.

Saturday eve I was standing in the carport waiting for man's best friend to finish her business and return to the domicile. It was cold. Damned cold.* I was shivering so hard my balls thought they were epileptics. My mind wandered a bit and I thought about what I'd do if I got locked outside of the house. I decided I'd be forced to skin Kota for her fur as I'd need something to wrap around myself for warmth once her body cooled and the blanket of entrails (a la Luke Skywalker in Empire) no longer sufficed.

I was brought out of my reverie by a skrinching sound. A sound remarkably similar to the noises that the homestead's resident rodent** makes when traveling about his cage. A sound of tiny claws on a hard surface. This sound was similar but had a different timbre. It included a bit of that nails down the chalkboard cringe inducing noise.

Tiny claws on metal. more...

Posted by: Jim at 11:55 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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I think of the odds against our meeting. What are the odds that the ICQ random chat button that you hit would come up with me? What if I hadn't had a funny tagline in my profile that caught your eye? What if you hadn't had the courage to cross an ocean for me, or if The Godfather hadn't been there to help you? The odds against us ever getting together mean we're statistically luckier than a PowerBall winner.

I think of the things we've faced. Family frictions, culture shock, enduring terrible solitude, relocating, hard pregnancies and health problems. The list of things that tried to break us apart is monstrous but we defeated or dealt with every one.

And then I think of the things we've built together. Trust, love, passion, friendship, a family, a home (and one freaking huge menagerie of pets). And that's when I thank you for the one hundred eighty nine million presents you've given me, because I treasure every moment with you like the gift that it is.

Happy Anniversary my Lovely Wife.

*KISS* *HUG* *NIBBLE*

Posted by: Jim at 09:57 AM | Comments (13) | Add Comment
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Bad: The Dear Any Servicemember mail service I mentioned yesterday is apparently suspended. :-(

There are security concerns about anonymous items (anthrax, etc) being sent directly to the frontline troops. The anonymous nature of Any Servicemember made this a dangerous and uncontrollable vector for anybody who wanted to harm the troops.

Good: There are other ways to send smiles to our boys and girls overseas. :-)

Operation Dear Abby was started many a year ago to allow people to write letters to our troops overseas. The modern (security conscious) system allows you to send a note that can be read by any servicemember with internet access. Posts can also be printed off by division personnel with internet access to distribute to troops who aren't online.

For a more personal touch, join SlagleRock's Letters to the Troops campaign. A friend of Slagle's is being deployed to Iraq and will hand carry letters that bloggers post on their sites. Just write a letter and trackback to Slagle's post linked above and they'll take care of the rest. Be quick about it though - the deadline is today!

(My letter follows in the extended entry.) more...

Posted by: Jim at 12:18 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I've got some friends who would love to receive one. Here are their addresses:

ANY SAILOR

USS NIMITZ CVN 68

FPO AP 96620-2820

ANY SAILOR
USS RONALD REAGAN CVN 76
FPO AP 96616-2876

ANY SAILOR
USS ABRAHAM LINCOLN CVN 72
FPO AP 96612-2872

ANY SAILOR
USS HARRY S TRUMAN CVN 75
FPO AE 09524-2875

These are the carriers currently on deployment in the Pacific Ocean and Persian Gulf. Make a sailor's day - send 'em a card.

If you're afraid of the water you could adopt a platoon, or if you'd prefer a more direct contact consider adopting a soldier.

The little things mean so much more when far from home. Send a card to a serviceman overseas and you can make two people smile with each one. (One of those people is you.)

(Hat tip to Lovely Wife)

Posted by: Jim at 11:55 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Audio only:

Sultry female: Hey, what's that you're holding?

Studly fella: A little something I call 'total happiness'.

Sultry female: Well you got some total happiness on your shirt.

Now what are you thinking right now? Yeah, that's what I though. You dirty, dirty bird.

With video:

Female suit walks up to an office building security desk.

Female suit: Hey, what's that you're holding?

Security guard sits up from his half-reclined position, holding a 12" meatball sub in his hands.

Security guard: A little something I call 'total happiness'.

Security guard smiles goofily.

Female suit gets the "what a jackass" look on her face.

Female suit: Well you got some total happiness on your shirt.

Security guard looks down at his shirt while the goofy smile turns into the "I'm such a jackass" look.

Switch to close up of sub on Subway wrapper.

Sometimes less is more.

(Lovely Wife pointed this one out to me.)

Posted by: Jim at 11:50 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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An announcement came over the intercom this morning. We are scheduled to have a fire drill. An actual fire drill. As in, stop working, walk down the stairs, go outside until they say we can come back inside.

It's just like being back in school! Just like in school they've waited to the coldest day of the year, too.

Oh, another announcement just came on. We can carry personal items but nobody is allowed to carry beverages down the stairs. It's a violation of the code. The code of what? A couple people just took their coffee and went down into the lobby via the elevators. I guess the code says that it is okay to bring beverages into the elevators.

I think the anti-beverage code must be a part time thing because I don't recall any signs or warnings on the doors or stairs themselves warning against carrying beverages. I use the stairs every day (going down only - the ground floor stairwell is locked from the outside so people can't sneak in the back door and go upstairs without passing security) but I guess it's possible that I missed a sign. If there's no sign there I'm going to put in an official request for one. Safety first you know, and who wants to be a code breaker?

I'm currently fighting a powerful urge to pull the fire alarm. What better time? Everybody's expecting it so nobody would panic but you still get all the benefit of sticking it to the man!

This will be my first fire drill since 1987. I thought that graduating from high school meant I had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that I knew how to exit a building.

Off to the pisser now. Nothing worse than standing around in freezing weather with a full bladder.

[Twenty minutes later]

Damn, that thing was loud! Annoyingly loud. And it was indeed cold outside. Very, very cold. And they kept us outside for over ten minutes. Sons of bitches.

Did I mention that I don't generally wear a coat? I don't really need one seeing as I go from the house to the car then the car to the building. Fucking cold.

Well, the building administrators can now rest assured that several hundred mature (to varying degrees) adults know how to walk down stairs and mill about smartly.

Posted by: Jim at 11:57 AM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
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1 You know they did it on purpose. You would, I would. Why wouldn't they?

Posted by: Paul at December 14, 2004 01:02 PM (vbP6L)

2 That thought did cross my mind. I cringed from it. Life could be bad if there were people like me in charge of me.

Posted by: Jim at December 14, 2004 01:21 PM (tyQ8y)

3 Did anyone ever tell them that using THE ELEVATOR during a drill is AGAINST CODE?LOL Or during any fire therefor.....LOL

Posted by: LW at December 14, 2004 02:12 PM (GCA5m)

4 Oh, they knew that. They went down in the elevator before the fire drill started. Very clever people 'round here.

Posted by: Jim at December 14, 2004 02:16 PM (tyQ8y)

5 "Did I mention that I don't generally wear a coat? I don't really need one seeing as I go from the house to the car then the car to the building." And I thought I was the only one. Actually, I wear a coat from the house to the car, but I leave it in the car to walk the 20 steps to the door at work. Reason being that the coat closet is inconveniently located, and it's a pain to go fetch the damn thing at lunch. Plus it would make me stay an extra 30 seconds or so at the end of the day, which is 30 seconds too damn long in MY book.

Posted by: Harvey at December 15, 2004 12:25 AM (ubhj8)

6 Harvey lives in Wisconsin. Jim lives in Georgia. Who's the real man here?

Posted by: Susie at December 15, 2004 07:30 AM (3nS88)

7 Hey now. I spent my formative years in Little Antarctica (aka Buffalo, NY). I got the street cred.

Posted by: Jim at December 15, 2004 08:04 AM (tyQ8y)

8 We have so many fires where I work that we don't need to drill for it. In the year I've been at this place we have had 3 fires, plus the transformer at the end of the block blew up. We are starting to know the firemen by name.

Posted by: Machelle at December 15, 2004 03:33 PM (ZAyoW)

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The building where I work is four stories high and is shaped like the number 8. In the empty spaces in the middle are nice little park like areas with trees, bushes, flowers, gravel strewn walking paths and stone benches. Windows look in on these idyllic areas on all sides of every floor.

To all appearances there is no way to get into them. There are no doors to them. None of the windows in the building open, including the first floor windows where these gardens are located. I've been confounded by this since I started working here. The grounds are tended, bushes trimmed, paths cleared - obviously maintenance people are getting in there. I figured I was missing some obvious ingress and have been casually searching for them for a month. How do people get into these micro parks?

Today I discovered the answer. The maintenance people lower a scaffolding from the roof, much like the window-washer scaffolds on skyscrapers. There really is absolutely no way for people to get into these park areas. They are faux paths, unused and unusable.

Why in the world would they go through the trouble of creating and maintaining these areas while keeping everybody out? What brilliant architect came up with this idea? "Oh, I've got a good one! We'll put little park areas in the center of the building. Trees, bushes, flowers, bird baths, nice paths and benches to sit on - people love stuff like that. But to limit maintenance costs we won't let anybody get to them. That way we don't have to worry about litter and things like that."

With all of the rampantly moronic things I've seen in my life you'd think that new evidence of professional grade stupidity would cease to shock me. Fortunately I retain my childlike wonder that people can be this dumb and continue to function.

Posted by: Jim at 11:55 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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It has been a few years since I traveled by plane. The last time I flew was before 9/11. Things have changed. Now when you go to the counter to check in there are self-serve kiosks to help speed the way. Unfortunately these require many of the same skills that you need to operate a microwave oven (besides pressing the "popcorn" button). Also very unfortunately the average traveler seems to lack so much as the ability to use a calculator. The net result is that it still takes the same amount of time to check in but now you are pissed at your fellow travelers instead of the counter personnel.

A cheeseburger and a slice of cake will cost $35 if you order it through room service. This includes tax, $2.50 delivery fee plus mandatory 19% gratuity. When you sign the slip to charge it to your room there is a line for additional tip. Yeah, right-o Buckwheat. Try again.

Michigan Ave in Chicago is a full strip of some of the greatest boutiques, shops and vendors you'll find anywhere. It can stand toe to toe with upscale merchant districts in any major metropolis in the world. The bag most frequently seen in my travels down Michigan Ave? The Gap. You can take the rube out of the mall but you can't take the mall out of the rube. more...

Posted by: Jim at 12:36 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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