Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Looking Back.

The boy turns 15 on Friday and looking back makes me a little sad. I am proud of the young man he is, but I miss the little boy he was. He was such a cute kid and we used to have a ball together.

He used to be happy with every little thing I gave him. Now he takes it as his due and wonders why he doesn't get more. I guess that is my fault, I did spoil him rotten when he was a kid. It was hard not to, he was just that cute.

It was also hard to avoid, since the boys father was such an asshole back then. He would call and tell they boy he was coming and then just not show up. You want to see pitiful? Watch a 5 year old sitting on the front porch with his backpack, waiting for his father who is not coming.

I would say, "Hey lets go to the mall and get a new toy." He would worry that he would miss his father. (Asshole) "We will leave him a note." I remember that like it was yesterday.

Luckily his father was shot in the head and from the pod came a new father. Ok, that didn't happen, but it was sort of like that. He seems to be making up for lost time. He even bought the boy a ticket to go see Motley Crue for his birthday. He goes to all his Hockey games and is taking more of an interest in what the boy does.

So the boy forgets the asshole he was, and at the same time forgets everything I have ever done for him. But I guess that is a mother's lot in life, we get no respect or gratitude till we are dead.

Can't come soon enough for me.

Saturday, January 28, 2006

End of the back shift.

Shift bids are out and the employees at the Undisclosed Customer Service Center™ have lost their minds over their shifts. Every six months its the same thing. People lose the shift they wanted or don't get the shift they wanted and lose their minds. There is much crying and bitching, it is quite entertaining.

Things should start getting back to normal for me now. Back-shift was starting to get to me. Although I was only working 3 days, it was the weekend and it was 13 hour shifts. The four days off were wasted on me, for some reason I was waking up at 4 or 5 am and was lucky if I could make it past suppertime before I crashed.

So, I am back on 5-1 shift. I am not at all upset about losing the backshift, I really liked 5-1. But they got this floating days off thing that is a downer. I will not know from week to week what days off I have.

Is it evil of me to be entertained by the people around me losing their minds?

FYI - Blogger spell checker is not working, so you will just have to deal with the type-o's

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

A warm an fuzzy feeling.

Watching our Prime Minister Designate walking his kids to school.

They reach the gate, he turns to his son and shakes his hand. Awww, little man. Then turns to his daughter, she looks to be about 6 or 7, and ... shakes her hand? WTF? Are these his kids or voters?

I had a weird feeling about this guy before this and this latest episode does not make me feel any better. The man gives me the creeps. It started with his eyes, creepy eyes. Pale almost white eyes, like one of those husky dogs. But this cinches it, who the hell shakes their kids hands?

I got a real bad feeling about this.

Sunday, January 22, 2006

My Eyes!

I think this is the single most disturbing image I have seen in my entire life.

Yes people, that is Barry Manilow. I can't write, I am too traumatized.

Talk amongst yourselves.

Friday, January 20, 2006

Sammy = Sleep-Deprivation

My sister is heading to India for work next month and I have agreed to take care of one of her cats. She has three. I know, she is one away from being 'that crazy cat lady'.

She has two others, twin tiger-striped. When she got them home she had no idea what to call them. Since one of them had blue eyes I suggested she call that one Frank. She thought that was cool, I guess. I have a thing with naming animals.

"But what do we call the other one?"

I thought it was obvious, "Uh... Deano." Like there was any other choice.

So, Frank and Deano lived happily together till one day my sister drags another one home. He was small and wiry, a short haired black cat. There was no other choice for a name, but Sammy.

Sammy became the bane of everyone's existence. He never left the others alone for a moments peace. He was on them constantly. They try to catch a nap and all they want to do is play. And he was absolute murder on my sister's leather couch.

I know, this begs the question. "Why does a woman with a leather couch get a cat, or why does a cat owner get a leather couch?" One of the mysteries of the universe.

On the other hand, Sammy is freakishly affectionate. When you bend down to say hi, he will get up on his hind legs, like a kid asking to be picked up. And he cannot get close enough to you. If he could get inside your head I am sure he would. It's hard to describe, but I have never seen anything like it.

And it's cute. For the first 5 hours. Then it is like having a newborn, only this time, you are breast feeding constantly. The cat is attached to you. Literally. You lay on the couch, most cats curl up at your feet. Not Sammy, he as to be under your chin. And if you move he will bite your cheek. Wherever you go, turn around and you step on him. Heaven forbid you need to go to the bathroom, he sits outside it and howls like you are torturing him.

I had worried how he would get along with my cat, Milo. Milo is older, fixed and much bigger. I worried he would hurt Sammy. Was I ever wrong. Sammy has not skipped a beat, he refuses to leave Milo alone. No matter how much Milo sputters, hisses and swats.

As we speak (or I should say as I try and speak) he is trying to get up under my chin, this was easier when he was a tiny kitten, but I can't imagine how he will accomplish this when he is full grown. I have to stop and pat him he is biting my fingers. He demands attention, or else.

He spent his first night with me last night. I don't think he gets the concept of sleep. I guess he figures I should follow his schedule. I didn't have any problem falling asleep with him running around, I am used to distractions. However, once he decided he wanted to sleep it was a very different scenario. He wants to sleep under my chin. Directly under my chin, and he wants me to pat him as he falls asleep. Unfortunately, when he decided this I was already asleep so he bit me when my unconcerned state would not comply with his demands.

I wake up to "THUMP". I must have reacted to him biting me. You would think that that would deter him. No, he came back with a vengeance. He got up on the bed and started meowing. Loudly. Short meows, almost barks. Mreh! mreh! mreh! mreh!, as if to say, "look bitch, I am ready for sleep and this is how it is going to go. I am going to curl into an upside down ball under your chin and you will scratch my belly until I go to sleep and if you stop I will bite your chin." I would turn over and get a nice hard bite on the back of the neck and he would hop over me and position him self again under my chin. I tried locking him out of the room, but the howling would start. Couple that with whatever neighborhood cat was howling outside my window (in heat) and I couldn't stand it.

It was a long night, but I think at one point I may have rolled over on him. I believe after that he rethought the positioning. I still woke up to wet nose on my lips. I guess he figured I had slept long enough, he needed some love.

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

I suck!

As a housekeeper, I essentially suck. I only have a small apartment and even with the boy and his ways I still should be able to get through the entire thing in a couple hours. But I just can't. I know exactly what goes wrong, but identifying your problem does not always lead to correcting it.

Here is how it goes:

I start in the kitchen, stack the dishes, fill the sink. The water is too hot, I move on since there is a jacket on the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

As I take that jacket to the entry to hang it up, I notice the cat's dish is messy and there is dirt and dry cat food on the floor. I dig out the vacuum.

As I vacuum, I realize there are footwear there that are seasonally inappropriate and should be in storage.

Moving on to the storage I notice that that is a bit disorganized and start to straighten up. Look at that! Something that belongs in the bathroom.

I move it to the bathroom and notice that the sink is a bit grungy, I add comet to the sink and move on to the tub, there is a book lying next to it, I pick up the book intending to return it to the bedroom bookshelf.

Passing the vacuum cleaner and the storage closet, past the kitchen through the living room where I pick up something else destined for the bedroom. While I am in the living room I figure I should pick up the rest of the stuff littering it, my hands are full now, on to the bedroom.

After placing the book on the shelf I see another on the floor, I pick it up and start picking up everything else on the floor. I pick up the blanket and since I have it in my hand I might as well make the bed. During the making of the bed I notice a nasty glass of old pop on the nightstand, that must go in the sink immediately.

Back to the kitchen, place the glass in the water that is just the right temperature now. Start doing the dishes, one sinkload in the drainer and another bunch in the sink, add hot water. I notice a sock on the floor. That goes in the bathroom hamper.

I step into the entry on the way to the bathroom, I notice the half vacuumed floor. Pick up the vacuum and try and finish that, I see a screwdriver in the corner, proper location? Storage closet. I am still holding the sock.

Do you see where this is going? After 3 hours I am exhausted and there is not one thing that is completed.

Nothing ever gets completely clean. I have rarely placed the dish drainer in its home in the cupboard, since there is always either something in it draining or something in the sink destined for the drainer.

So, I guess what I do is tidy. Maybe I should invest in a cleaning lady. I miss the days when I could get my friend to do it for a couple bottles of wine.

Jeanette? Where are you?

Friday, January 13, 2006

Trash the vote.

Is everyone missing the fact that we are paying for garbage removal? Our taxes pay for that in the first place.

Then they come out with all this recycle crap and we have to sort all the garbage. Which, incidentally, used to be the garbage man's job. So, now we are doing his job of sorting, does the tax bill go down? Nope.

Now, since we can't be trusted, we have to put our garbage in clear bags, so they can make sure we are doing their job correctly. Do we get a discount for that? NOPE! And if we don't sort correctly? Do they tell us why they are leaving that bag at the end of the driveway? NOPE!

We are now faced with two choices. We either rip open the bag and sort it again or take it to the dump ourselves. Do we get a rebate on our taxes for that? NOPE!

Know what happens to all that perfectly sorted recyclables?

They pick it up from you, and then they SELL it! That is right, boys and girls, they pick it up from you and turn around and sell it to manufacturers. They get it for free and then they turn around and sell it for profit.

Do we see any of that cash? NOPE!

I think I will take my garbage with me to the poling station. Whoever takes it off my hands, gets my vote.

After all, what am I paying for?

Thursday, January 12, 2006

I'm Back!

For the last week I have been without, not just internet, but any computer interaction at all. My hard drive was pooched.

Talk about culture shock.

I didn't know what was on TV. I didn't know how much money I had. I had no idea what the weather was or if the world was being taken over by aliens.

I know there are some people out there who have no computer let alone internet.

How do they function? Do you know any of these people? What do they do for fun?


UPDATE: Ok, so it was 6 days. Sue me, I have been traumatized none the less.

Friday, January 6, 2006

What goes around comes around.

Sent to me in an email.
While vacationing on a ranch, Paul Martin gets thrown from his horse, lands on a rattlesnake, gets bitten and dies because the emergency room at the nearest hospital is too understaffed to treat him in time. So his soul arrives in Heaven and he is met by St. Peter at the Pearly Gates.

"Welcome to Heaven," says St. Peter. "Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a Liberal around these parts, so we're not sure what to do with you."
"No problem, just let me in; I'm a believer."
says Martin.
"I'd like to just let you in, but I have orders from the Man Himself.
He says you have to spend one day in Hell and one day in Heaven. Then you must choose where you'll live for eternity."
"But, I've already made up my mind, I want to be in Heaven,"
replied Martin.
"I'm sorry, but we have our rules." And with that, St. Peter escorts him to an elevator and he goes down, down, down, all the way to Hell.

The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a lush golf course; the sun is shining in a cloudless sky, the temperature a perfect 72 degrees. In the distance is a beautiful clubhouse.
Standing in front of it is his Dad, and thousands of other Liberals who had helped him out over the years---Pierre Trudeau, Jean Marchand, Pelletier, St Laurent etc. The whole of the "Left" was there, everyone laughing, happy, and casually but expensively dressed. They run to greet him, hug him, and reminisce about the good times they had getting rich at the expense of 'suckers and peasants.' They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster and caviar.
The Devil himself comes up to Martin with a frosty drink, "Have a Margarita and relax, Paul!"
"Uh, I can't drink anymore, I took a pledge,"
says Martin, dejectedly.
"This is Hell, son. You can drink and eat all you want and not worry, and it just gets better from there!"
Martin takes the drink and finds himself liking the Devil, who he thinks is a really very friendly guy who tells funny jokes like himself, and pulls hilarious nasty pranks, kind of like they pulled on the GST and Free Trade promises. They are having such a great time that, before he realizes it, it's time to go. Everyone gives him a big hug and waves as Martin steps on the elevator and heads upward.

When the elevator door reopens, he is in Heaven again and St. Peter is waiting for him. "Now it's time to visit Heaven," the old man says, opening the gate.
So for 24 hours Martin is made to hang out with a bunch of honest, good-natured people who enjoy each other's company, talk about things other than money, and treat each other decently. Not a nasty prank or frat boy joke among them; no fancy country clubs and, while the food tastes great, it's not caviar or lobster. And these people are all poor, he doesn't see anybody he knows, and he isn't even treated like someone special!

"Whoa," he says uncomfortably to himself. "Pierre Trudeau never prepared me for this!"
The day done, St. Peter returns and says, "Well, you've spent a day in Hell and a day in Heaven. Now choose where you want to live for eternity."

With the 'Jeopardy' theme playing softly in the background, Martin reflects for a minute, then answers: "Well, I would never have thought I'd say this -- I mean, Heaven has been delightful and all
-- but I really think I belong in Hell with my friends."

So St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down, all the way to Hell. The doors of the elevator open and he is in the middle of a barren scorched earth covered with garbage and toxic industrial waste, kind of like Sudbury. He is horrified to see all of his friends, dressed in rags and chained together, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags. They are groaning and moaning in pain, faces and hands black with grime.

The Devil comes over to Martin and puts an arm around his shoulder.
"I don't understand," stammers a shocked Martin, "Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and a clubhouse and we ate lobster and caviar, drank booze. We lazed around and had a great time. Now there's just a wasteland full of garbage and everybody looks miserable!".

The Devil looks at him, smiles slyly, and purrs, "Yesterday we were campaigning; today you voted for us!"

Sigh! All we can do is have faith.

Wednesday, January 4, 2006

My son, the rock star!

The boy and his friends perform at a school concert.

That's the boy in the white t-shirt.

Please do not comment on the bad picture quality, I did not take them. I was not permitted to attend.

Cuz, you know, Moms are so uncool.

Curious-er and curious-er.

Remember this item from the 'Random Stupid Things' below?
- A break-in at a local residence netted the thieves eight restricted hand guns, Police are concerned that " they may fall into the wrong hands..."
HELLO, they are already in the wrong hands, Moron!

New developement. Seems the owner of the house that the guns were stolen from ... shot himself.

Maybe the 'thief' who stole the guns knew something the rest didn't. And if that is the case, it is too bad they didn't get all the guns. This one is turning into an interesting one. Too bad we can't call in the CSI people.

What the hell is the world comming to?

Tuesday, January 3, 2006

What do you want for nothing?

I recently got bored and went through my spam folder in gmail. I noticed a lot of email from online companies promising me software dirt cheap. Since I have inside information, I decided to investigate.

The first email was entitled: What IS 0EM Software And Why D0 You Care?

I clicked over to the site, and guess what? I searched for 10 minutes and never got an answer to that question but since I know it, I will tell you.

OEM means Original Equipment Manufacturer. Computer manufacturers purchase this from the software companies for distribution with their hardware. It is not meant for sale to the general public without said hardware. It will say on the disk "for distribution with a new PC only". But wait! This site does not send you a cd, so you will never know this. And for the 'Why do you care?' part. Well when OEM's distribute this software, they take over warranty support, you will not get support from the makers of the software, and you would know this if you had a cd because it would clearly say on the face of the disk "for product support contact the manufacturer of your pc".

So the site I went to raised a few red flags. First being, no cd's, download only as indicated in the Terms section:
2.3. You cannot register the software with the manufacturer and updates are available not for all the products;
2.4. You do not receive printed license documentation;
2.5. You do not receive a copy of the software on a disk.
This should worry the consumer that purchases software this way. Any legitimate software CAN be registered with the manufacture and CAN absolutely get updates. And in case you are wondering, updates aren't just for upgrades of the software, updates include security patches. So you may get the software for next to nothing, but the first time a security threat pops up, your software cannot be protected from it. In the case of a critical security threat, you, my friend, are SOL.

Now I am not sure what type of license they are distributing with this software. If it were OEM licenses they would not warn you that you cannot register the software, I suspect that the licenses are volume licenses, since they are telling you that they will not give you a printed copy which means a proper Certificate of Authenticity. Volume licenses are purchased by companies so they can install the software on multiple computer within their company. They are not transferable to the general public. If you have this type of license on a home computer you are not running legitimate software.

This site is to download the software and make a copy. Again, on the cd you would see the words, "do not make illegal copies of this software". After downloading you are instructed to burn it to cd. You had better hope this process is successful because if you fail to burn it correctly, you are screwed if you need to reinstall for any reason, this site will not help you. And if you call me and tell me the software is on a burnt cd? I will laugh at you.

So remember, you get what you pay for.