Whisper admonished me for failing to reach a zen state because I stress about things I should no longer care about.
“If you give somebody a perfectly grilled steak and they take it and slather shampoo and gravel all over it and then complain that it isn’t any good, that’s on them, not you. Meow.”
Whisper is wise.
My freshman year of college at Moorhead State University (now Minnesota State University Moorhead) was not a pleasant one.
My first assigned roommate in Neumaier Hall was eventually kicked out of the building by our third floor RA. He went on to become a wanted cult leader and was featured in the “Cults, Religion & Mind Control” episode of E!’s THS Investigates.
My second assigned roommate in Neumaier Hall was a fellow who brought and stored an AK-something and a couple of full ammo cans in our dorm room. Blah blah Russian made blah blah Chinese assault blah blah semi-automatic but blah blah filed the blah blah now fully automatic blah blah. On more than one occasion, I’d come home and open the dorm room door to find him naked on his lower dorm bunk, cleaning his rifle. Not a euphemism, although it is also a euphemism. One evening while I was at work, our dorm room was raided by a cop/fed combo and after the RA filled me in later that night, I never saw him or heard about him again.
But the worst part of my freshman year was a TV commercial for Friendly Motors that aired late at night. In it, there was a portly man wearing a white suit and white cowboy hat like Boss Hogg on The Dukes of Hazzard. There might’ve been a donkey or mule standing beside him in the car lot. The man wore a mask and opened the commercial with, “Hi! I’m the Loan Arranger!”
I still have nightmares.
They later demolished Neumaier Hall. I assume they did that so that nobody else had to go through what I went through.
Am I the only one who grew up thinking “astigmatism” was “stigmatism”?
“You have a stigmatism.”
“I have a what?”
“A stigmatism.”
“A stigmatism? Am I dying?”
“No, but when you get older, your contact lenses will be hella spendy.”
(later, to self) “…Lenses?”
I found some curious vintage leadership advice at the local Goodwill store. And yes, it went home with me for the low, low price of $1.99.
I was working the night shift at Kinko’s Copy Center (now FedEx Office) in Grand Forks, North Dakota and a lady came in wanting 54 half-page invites printed on Orbit Orange (I think that was “1A” in Kinko’s code) for a sauerkraut-themed party.
Sure thing, so I took her original at the counter and went back to the copiers and found out that management had switched to that stupid Just In Time inventory management system and there wasn’t enough Orbit Orange paper on the shelf and it was the night shift so I couldn’t order any in time anyway so I’m franticly digging through the back of the store looking for more Orbit Orange paper but I can’t find any.
So, since it’s a sauerkraut-themed party, I suggest maybe printing it on a cream-colored paper since that would be closer in color to sauerkraut, and she’s very kind and agrees but I can tell she’s disappointed.
So I go back to print her invites on cream-colored paper and then I can’t find her original invite to make copies from. So I’m digging all around and the store starts to get busy with more customers coming in but I’m going to find that damned invite. That lady is extremely patient.
So I finally find that original invite and it’s on a work table and just under the tabletop is a shelf that’s out of sight from the counter with a compartment full of heavier-weight Orbit Orange cardstock. Duh! These are 5.5”x8.5” invites so of course they should be copied on cardstock and I have enough to make them in Orbit Orange! She’ll be so happy!
But just as I go to grab the stack of Orbit Orange cardstock, I see that it’s all gone except for a single sheet and the morning person (Hi, Lynn!) who came to replace me had taken and used it for another project that just came in and then I woke up to a text message alert sound and I realized I had slept through five alarms and now I’m totally exhausted.
On the last leg of my flight from Seattle to Bismarck, I went looking for a diversion.
This is what happened. Continue reading
Parsnip Delight
Bologna
Viking Longship
Pigeon Squeezings
Green
Burning Tire
Musk
February Jack-o’-Lantern
Touch of Bleach
Gladys
"I see that you have made 3 spelling mistakes." Last words of Marquis de Favras after reading his death sentence before being hanged (1790). pic.twitter.com/b4aFy7yyJM
— Klaas Meijer (@klaasm67) September 15, 2017
Never miss the opportunity to make something awesome.
The copy: Why do we malign bugs so? Are we not their Creators? As we crush them, do we not crush a part of ourselves? It was not weakness or failure that allowed them into this world. Nay, it was the light of innovation that we cast into the dark corners that these bugs call home. ’Twas our torches that send those bugs skittering. This update does not contain bug fixes. No! This update contains bug promises. Promises to find them a new home where each may pursue those interests most central to them.