Opening up a can of Whoop Ass

I tucked in my shirt

So they cleared a desk for me up at the gig in Columbus. I share space with the Chief Marketing Officier. Fancy title for a bubbly chick who seems to balance motherhood and professional responsibility with aplomb.

I’m left staring at a few remnants of the prior occupant, so I spent the early morning hours arranging the visual noise to be less obtrusive to my convoluted thinking.

The job is going fairly well, but the notion of offices, people and working in a larger company seem to get more of my attention than the pixels on the screen.

Today, I noticed one of the junior marketers, public relations I think. She was dressed all smart with her hair done up nice and some whoopass boots on. I believe she had a meeting scheduled with a vendor. Some higher-up golfing-type left without her.

I hear this from others as they discuss it in the primarily female marketing department, and I realize that what I’m seeing is, quite simply, discrimination.

It saddens me a bit.

The P.R. person/girl/young woman/chick, went about her business outwardly unfazed. I realized that I notice these things, and it would make me a good manager. Better yet, I’d fare well at being the higher-up sans the golf.

Thank god I don’t exist in a place that requires titles.

Toys Gone Butch : Fill in the talk bubbles

That’s GungHo on the left and Dreadnok on the right

So don’t ask me why I ventured down the toy aisle in Meijer this past weekend. Maybe cause I dug action figures way beyond a proper age.

I’m saw all these Yo-Gi-Oh things and tweaked out Batman toys along with updated Transformers that don’t do anything for me. Then, however, I saw the G.I. Joes.

Dang, these things are all butch and shit.

I never had any G.I. Joe figures, just Star Wars and He-Man.

So I picked up two that stood out.

I had this idea to be creative and make some witty remarks between these mortal enemies, but alas, I wasn’t feeling very creative. Maybe someone else can come up with something appropriate. For background info, here are their bios (no joke):

Code Name :GUNG HO
Team: G. I. Joe
File Name : Ettiene R. LaFitte
Birthplace : Fer-De-Lance, Louisiana
Team: Cobra
File Name : Harry Nod
Birthplace : Grim Cape, Tasmania
GUNG-HO grew up in the Louisiana swamps, in a large Cajun clan that held huge zydeco camps known for having lots of music and fist fighting.


He’s at home in brown water environments and thrives on all the heat, humidity, bugs and alligators. He graduated top of his class from boot camp at Parris Island, then went on to join the GI JOE team, where he’s called in when things get extra rough.

In Operation Swampfire, GUNG-HO blew up DESTRO’s major advanced-technology weapons plant. The explosion destroyed DESTRO’s personal fortune and set his operations back for years — and made him DESTRO’s sworn enemy.

Training :
Marine Corps Land Navigation and Orienteering
Jungle Survival School (Instructor)
Land Expeditionary Specialist (Master Instructor)
U.S. Marine Corp Special Operations
Water Navigation Course (small boat and kayak expert)
Has had tours of duty with the 28th Marine Expeditionary Force and Marine Force Reconnaissance unit.

Anti-social and proud of it, DREADNOK RIPPER has been taking out his anger on the world since he was expelled from nursery school for bribery and aggravated assault. Black-listed from every outlaw biker gang in his native Tasmania for excessive nastiness and inadequate personal hygiene, he sought out ZARTAN at his secret swamp hide-out and joined the DREADNOKS, who overlook his bad points since he pays his dues on time and doesn’t spend a lot of time in the bathroom.


DREADNOK RIPPER hates everything and everybody.
He likes nothing better than ripping things to shreds with crude sharp-edged tools. After he tears things apart, he enjoys jumping up and down on top of the pieces while wearing his big hob-nailed engineer boots and shouting naughty verses at the top of his lungs.

Quote :
“It ain’t true that I hates everything. That’s a load o’ rubbish. I likes grape soda and chocolate-covered donuts, don’t I?”

Where am I?

The the

This has been a particularly self-reflective beginning to autumn. Aside from a jaunt abroad, hibernating is starting to sound exceptionally good. Perhaps it’s just a flighted thought and I caught myself in a mood as the memes of single words circled around.

I sat down and started to define my world with nouns instead of people. I couldn’t figure out where I fit.

Just one word is so limiting.

Adjectives failed too, though they were closer to actions.

I decided it wasn’t worth pondering, so I posted kitty porn someone lent me.

Can I love the environment and GladWare?

Cold Storage

The soup has been a comfortable find as I open the fridge – something I stocked with goodness this weekend. It’s a task I need to do more often, but shopping for one is a chore.

I don’t think there are as many interesting things as the Three Bears’ fridge.

I do have carrot juice however, because my left eye has been twitching – and for some reason, I think carrots are good for your eyes.

Was it my mom who said that rabbits see very well?

Last Drop

Three chugs, you’re out.

The tension of the last drop, clings to the lip of the bottle.

My sweetened chocolate milk with a hint of coffee flavoring is no more, and I must go on.




Vegetable soup day

Ingredient roll call

I don’t always eat Dinty Moore and Chef Boyardee, sometimes I cook. Today was one of those days. It was chilly and blustery. A perfect day for soup.

My mom has given me a handful of recipes, and this one stands out from my youth. We called it vegetable soup, even though there’s beef in there.

As a kid, the house would be filled with the smell and I’d linger ’round the kitchen to get a taste. Thing is, it wasn’t until after the slow simmerin’ process that everything would blend together. It was a tease, perhaps, but for great things to follow.

When we finally sat down to eat (usually on bamboo trays in the ‘family room’), we’d take crackers and slather them with (real) butter and put spoonfuls of the thick soup on ’em.

Bread now accompanies the soup, which lasts for a while in the fridge, and gets better each day. I don’t put the cabbage in, it doesn’t sit well. Other than that, I tend to follow the steps and it seldom fails, unless I get too generous with the pepper.

Mom’s Vegetable Soup from her Mom


Big n Tall

The new grocery/megastore (Meijer), also has clothing. I wandered all the aisles seeing what they had that I didn’t need, and I came across a display of flannel shirts with a Big and Tall sign.

A little yeehaw inside and three Extra Large Tall shirts went in the cart.

If you looked like a plumber with your asscrack showing most of the time, you’d yeehaw inside too at this find.

Be Progressive, B-E-progressive!

Subtle, but more modern-er

Breezing through the aisles of the grocery, I was looking at the cans of Chef Boyardee and I saw that Dinty Moore Beef Stew had “freshened” up.

My typography teacher back in Ohio State used to get migraines walking around and seeing all the bad type treatments on signs. Some of that rubbed off on me.

I hate sounding like a broken record, but is the future on a tilt? Must we be italic?

Face Off on Pride Night

A ride at pride

I wanted nothing more than to stay at home with the skies hinting at storms.

But I hadn’t gotten to Kings Island this year, and there were new rides, and tonight, since it was Pride Night, there would be no lines.

So I went, by myself… Hoping I’d run into my brother.

Oddly enough, I parked right behind him and his compadres in the lot and scalped a sweet deal on a ticket.

The sky cleared some. The weather was perfect.

It was a blast to jaunt around the park going from ride to ride with my brother and his fine company. He hadn’t been to Kings Island in years and it was fun to see him grin from the new rides.

The diversity of the folks there surprised me, since I only go to the same places over and over. Totally different sets of people there, and the mood was good.

Saw lots of folks down from Columbus and generally tipped my hat to some familiar face in every line.

It was spooky dark as night fell and there was a mist around the park. It seemed they didn’t turn on all the lights to conserve energy or something, so there was a particularly ominous feel walking around. This was blown however, by the piped in Madonna remixes that made me think Alvin and the Chipmunks were at it again.

Overall, great night at the amusement park.

The new stray

Love for sale

Actually, free love.

Heather found another cat lingering outside the neighborhood bar and like a good samaritan, she made sure it was getting plenty of food. After a week and no one picking up the little fella, she brought him to her home.

I don’t know how many strays she has taken in over her lifetime, but it would easily fill up more digits than I have on my hands and feet.

This cat is something special though. Personable, curious and skiddish.

Heather thinks I need a pet, and frankly, I do too. I’d love to have some dogs and cats running around. But I’d need to quit traveling for work and fun with such whimsy.

Fish outta water

The Snack Truck That Smiles Back

I got nothing done at work today. Well, I made a mental list of all the stuff that needs to be tackled. Overwhelmed, I took lunch with another potential client. This added to the mayhem in my head.

It’s another big corporate gig. I think the hollow feeling in my stomach wasn’t from the free spaghetti lunch.

Dunno how effective I can be at interfacing at this level anymore.

Adding to this, I’m at this point of feeling outdated.

Begin grumblerant

CSS for the design of web pages (not only the typography) is becoming a beast that requires an opinion.

I’ve long since thought that sites should be built to display properly on all browsers. It is becoming increasingly attractive as the newer browsers support these technologies and put the design of the interface into this referenced container.

But I love tables. Tables work. Templates can be made. Efficiencies gained. I’m as stubborn about CSS as I am about Flash.

Macromedia released a new Dreamweaver last week. A product I use to “rough” out HTML (for bigger clients, and personally, I use it for little sites). It now supports CSS for layouts. This is pretty significant for visual editors.

Thing is, it runs like absolute SHIT on a mac. It is entirely unusable. The company line? “These reports are not replicable by Technical Support, so we ask that users perform the following steps to make sure the issue is not system-specific” They go on to list system requirements and blah blah blah.

Perhaps when testing the product, folks aren’t really USING the product, just going through the steps to ensure that it performs the functions.

Grumble. So now I’m wondering if:
A.) I just need to start using a PC or
B.) Give up visual editors
C.) Keep on truckin with tables

That feeling of being stubborn about solutions makes me feel like an old dog.

I get a slight feeling that I am at an impasse. That the seven year itch is upon me. If I couldn’t get a gig with The Mudd Truck, perhaps I could drive around the country and give away free Goldfish.

Caught this photo on the way home from work today. Maybe it’s a sign.

Fun with the olfactory

New scents from the Yankee Candle Company

After a tasty lunch accompanied by honey butter drizzled over croissants, I forced Mr Dallasbear into the videogame store. Seems like everything I want is always not out yet, and if I would just wait a month or two after the release, I could save tons of money.

Walked out pleased with myself for being empty handed.

The next stop was the Yankee Candle Company and we found ourselves musing on fragrances they have yet to capture.

Which brings up a tangent… Proctor and Gambler says ‘Febreze actually cleans away odors on fabrics rather than covering them up’ Yet, Febreze has a distinct scent.

This confuses me.