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Saturday, January 21, 2006
Friday, January 20, 2006
Go check out Absinthe, currently in the top 18—another blogger is about to make a rockin’ score, I can feel it.
A few weekends ago, when we were cleaning and getting rid of our useless crap, I found myself working my way through all of our stored videotapes and was again struck by just how much we change over a relatively short period. So many movies that made me exclaim “What the fuck was I thinking?” Time and time again. Sleeping with the Enemy? What? Night at the Roxbury? Who? I’d say that most of my tapes are about 7 years old, and I’ve kept them simply because I planned to transfer all of them to DVD. Of course, this still hasn’t happened.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Bad weather on the way this weekend, guess that means I have to hunker down and play some poker. Best of luck to everyone playing in the big live tourneys this weekend in Tunica, I’ll be thinking of everyone whilst I absorb a plethora of pixilated beats.
Drizz had a post today got me thinking that I just might try to step it up a bit on the tourney side this weekend. Go check him out.
I had to put the smack down on another fuckin’ ass today—shit is gettin’ old. Some people enjoy such things (and there are plenty of times that I do), but when you are constantly having to put punk bitches back into place it becomes a job, and we all know how annoying those job thingy’s are. Here’s the rundown…
I get the call that a certain individual is coming in to get assistance signing up for the first time on a particular website. The fact that I’m going to have to take time away from more important things (like what I’m doing at this very moment) is already boggling my mind. All you have to do is click on the “New User Signup” and then fill in the blanks. Not too difficult—I even had one of my dogs do it once just to be sure, and I don’t have a smart dog like a Jack Russell or anything. I’ve got mentally unfit toy schnauzers.
I asked just who the heck this guy is. Turns out he’s a cousin of one of our illustrious PhD’s and the fire chief of one particular substation or another, which explains an awful lot. Not the fire chief part, the cousin of the PhD part. Can someone please tell me what the fuck it is about the process of getting a PhD that fucks a person up so much? In my lifetime, I’ve met one and only one PhD that wasn’t a complete idiot and/or pompous jackass. For the sake of my little tale, we’ll just call the PhD in question “D.”
When D started his job, I overheard him say to a girl in his department (who has been there forever, and who the entire department would be lost without) that he needed her “two-bit opinion.”
Oh, hell no.
It never ceases to amaze me the amount of shit that people will take, right to their face, even. If anyone ever refers to my opinion as “two-bit” when my assistance is necessary in an area they know nothing about, you can best believe there’s gonna be some furniture movin’ around. This is the same guy who took over 30 days to comprehend the difference between his PC logon and his website logon. Good Christ. While he has never been so blatantly snide with your’s truly, he has been an ass on a couple of occasions, resulting in a proper and always politically correct bitch slap. I’m happy to report that he now fully respects my authoriteye.
Pardon me; I got a bit off track there.
(that’s my douchebag alarm immediately dialing up to full-out mode)
I usher D’s cousin into the little anteroom we have set up for general PC use, or more accurately, room where the idiots can get on a computer and break it without really damaging anything important. Ever the accommodating gentleman, even when I really don’t feel like it, I pull out a chair for the guy and wait.
And wait some more.
He’s just standing there behind me with this look on his face, somewhere in between a confused “What?” and “Aren’t you going to do it for me, serf?’
Oh, hell no.
(Aside: I think that if I’m ever obscenely wealthy, one of the things I’m going to do is hire a very large, very black, very loud and obnoxious woman to follow me around at all times. I will give the high sign when necessary and she will bust out with some serious attitude in my place. Dammit, that would be a lot of fun. Someone make me rich and we can do this, by god.)
I just looked at him. Still nothing. Still that fuckin’ look. Christ, time for the smackdown yet again.
“You wanna take a seat there, Shooter?”
Boy, he didn’t like that, not one bit. But he sat, dammit. Respect my authoriteye.
I directed him to the correct place to click, and once the signup page loaded, I went for the kill shot.
“Now just read and fill in the blanks. Pretty simple stuff. Think you can get it from here?”
“Yeah.” It was more like a whisper and his voice cracked a bit.
And the lesson for today is: If you have absolutely no knowledge of something and need assistance with it, be appropriately humble in doing so. Having position or title doesn’t automatically make you all knowing or all powerful.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
My brother has a guy working for him that he pays $5.50/hr, only slightly over the Federal minimum wage, to do the shit work that needs done around his shop. There is one, and only one, good thing about this Midwestern hellhole, and that is that it’s pretty cheap to live here. But cheap though it may be, it’s still goddamn difficult to make it on wages that are that low. I’ve been there, I know. The strange thing about it all is that this guy is okay with it. He’s not a crackhead, he’s a good worker, and he’s a few years older than I am. Nice guy, but completely ignorant. IG. NUNT.
A scary board is on the table. You look down at your middling hand as first to act throws out a bet that will put you down to the felt. Goddamn that board, there are at least three ways you could be beat. You have to lay down the hand, and your opponent (in a fit of fairy tale quality graciousness) offers to let you see his cards. You’re pretty sure you know already. If you’re right, you know you’ll be on tilt. If you’re wrong, you learn something valuable and continue on.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
“Have you guys ever been here before?” asked the older man, as his smaller wife looked on in silence.
The restaurant was packed to the rafters, and I breathed a silent thanks to my OCD for making the reservations when I did. I had no real evidence that it would have made too much of a difference if I reserved only a week out, but the fact that it was our scheduled time and there would still be a small wait left me relieved at my over-preparedness. We were offered a seat at the bar until our table was ready and my internal pressure gauge slid a few bars to the left. A couple of cocktails before our meal would keep it sliding until it reached zero, just what the doctor (or hostess, in this case) ordered.
Shortly after receiving my second Bouchon we were seated. While I know that it is probably a bit disappointing to some, I enjoyed the fact that the menu was printed on simple, unpretentious paper wrapped around the napkin. We concentrated on the selection of appetizers while the waiter recited the featured items and asked us if there were any questions. We had none and decided on the Huitres (oysters) and Pate de Campagne (country style pate), and then fretted endlessly over our choice. We didn’t want to miss anything great, but these thoughts soon fled as the bread arrived, sans plate.
Rachel had the Gigot d’ Agneau (roasted leg of lamb) and I went with the Steak Frites. The simplicity of the presentation was the very reason that some may require a mental reset, as it was a sharp departure from the decorative “fusion” plates that permeate the modern restaurant scene. Mr. Keller doesn’t beg for attention with these dishes. He knows their value and seems content to leave it at that. Like many of the best things in life, you never see this food coming; there is wonder contained in the simplicity and elegance.
Dessert is something I don’t normally partake in, but asking me to leave Bouchon without dessert would be akin to asking that I leave my house without cigarettes. Such a thing should never happen, and yes, I am aware that I am a hopeless addict. However, in a departure from my thus far long-windedness, I will be sparing with my words about the tail end of the meal. After all, if I haven’t convinced you by now to make Bouchon your highest priority, you’re not going, no matter how much drivel I spew concerning their sweets.