DEMOCRATIC
You have two cows. Your neighbor has none. You feel guilty for being successful. Barbara Streisand sings for you at the invitation only party/benefit you hold to raise the public's awareness of your neighbor's plight.
REPUBLICAN
You have two cows. Your neighbor has none. So?
SOCIALIST
You have two cows. The government takes one and gives it to your neighbor. You form a cooperative to tell him how to manage his cow.
COMMUNIST
You have two cows. The government seizes both and provides you with milk. You wait in line for hours to get it. It is expensive and sour.
CAPITALISM, AMERICAN STYLE
You have two cows. You sell one, buy a bull, and build a herd of cows.
BUREAUCRACY, AMERICAN STYLE
You have two cows. Under the new farm program the government pays you to shoot one, milk the other, and then pours the milk down the drain.
AMERICAN CORPORATION
You have two cows. You sell one, lease it back to yourself and do an IPO on the 2nd one. You force the two cows to produce the milk of four cows. You are surprised when one cow drops dead. You spin an announcement to the analysts stating you have downsized and are reducing expenses. Your stock goes up.
You then sell your remaining cow and buy 2 Chinese cows for a tenth of what the American cow was worth.
You repeat the last four steps, and spend the profit on personal expenses.
FRENCH CORPORATION
You have two cows. You go on strike because you want three cows. You go to lunch and drink wine. Life is good.
JAPANESE CORPORATION
You have two cows. You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and produce twenty times the milk. They learn to travel on unbelievably crowded trains. Most are at the top of their class at cow school.
GERMAN CORPORATION
You have two cows. You engineer them so they are all blond, drink lots of beer, give excellent quality milk, and run a hundred miles an hour. Unfortunately they also demand 13 weeks of vacation per year.
ITALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows but you don't know where they are. While ambling around, you see a beautiful woman. You break for lunch. Life is good.
RUSSIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows. You have some vodka. You count them and learn you have five cows. You have some more vodka. You count them again and learn you have 42 cows. The Russian Mafia shows up and takes over however many cows you really have.
TALIBAN CORPORATION
You have all the cows in Afghanistan, which are two. You don't milk them because you cannot touch any creature's private parts. You get a $40 million grant from the US government to find alternatives to milk production but use the money to buy weapons.
IRAQI CORPORATION
You have two cows. They go into hiding. They send radio tapes of their mooing.
POLISH CORPORATION
You have two bulls. Employees are regularly maimed and killed attempting to milk them.
BELGIAN CORPORATION
You have one cow. The cow has disassociative identity disorder. Sometimes the cow thinks he's French, other times he's Flemish. The Flemish cow won't share with the French cow. The French cow wants control of the Flemish cow's milk. The cow asks permission to be cut in half. The cow dies happy.
FLORIDA CORPORATION
You have a black cow and a brown cow. Everyone votes for the best looking one. Some of the people who actually like the brown one best accidentally vote for the black one. Some people vote for both. Some people vote for neither. Some people can't figure out how to vote at all. Finally, a bunch of guys from out-of-state tell you which one you think is the best-looking cow.
CALIFORNIA CORPORATION
You have millions of cows. They make real California cheese. Only five speak English. Most are illegal immigrants. Arnold likes the ones with the big udders.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Monday, November 27, 2006
I Quit!
Of all the times I have wanted to quit my job, this weekend was the latest. Students coming back into town, traffic jams on the Interstate routing everyone down our neck of the woods, half my crew not showing up, and no one else willing to come in to help. In other words, it fricking sucked. Last night I ran the store with three people for most of the night. One girl came in for a few hours so we could get our breaks done (thank God, or we'd have all passed out by 8 PM), but other than that, it was just the three of us. Which means one person on the register, one person making food, and me running back and forth to keep both lines down with quick stops to make coffee along the way. It was hectic and stupid until about 8:30, and then it died. And people were being their usual rude, impatient selves.
Funny story, though: one lady came up to my register, set down a whole bunch of stuff and started talking to me (which is awesome, cause usually people either completely ignore me or have their ears glued to cell phones, which amounts to the same thing), then stopped, looked at me funny, and said, "Did I just come up to you and say 'Hey'? I'm sorry. That was so rude."
Blinkblink.
I assured her that I was just happy she was acknowledging my existence and I had no problem with her greeting me with a "Hey."
Tonight is going to be no better. There will, again, be three of us in the store at any given time, and it's a truck night. At least this time our truck/maintenance guy will be there. Then tomorrow night, I get to teach the new manager (who's really "special"--not the brightest crayon in the box) how to do closeout. THAT should take all night.
On the writing side of things, I finally finished that essay for Dr. S, and I'm still waiting on JABberwocky and Black Gate to get back to me. I kind of don't expect that to happen until February, just because it usually takes Black Gate about three months, and apparently all the publishers and agents in New York take a three month Christmas vacation. Getting my novel published would be freaking awesome--with a big enough advance, I could quit this horrible job and finish grad school without going insane.
Funny story, though: one lady came up to my register, set down a whole bunch of stuff and started talking to me (which is awesome, cause usually people either completely ignore me or have their ears glued to cell phones, which amounts to the same thing), then stopped, looked at me funny, and said, "Did I just come up to you and say 'Hey'? I'm sorry. That was so rude."
Blinkblink.
I assured her that I was just happy she was acknowledging my existence and I had no problem with her greeting me with a "Hey."
Tonight is going to be no better. There will, again, be three of us in the store at any given time, and it's a truck night. At least this time our truck/maintenance guy will be there. Then tomorrow night, I get to teach the new manager (who's really "special"--not the brightest crayon in the box) how to do closeout. THAT should take all night.
On the writing side of things, I finally finished that essay for Dr. S, and I'm still waiting on JABberwocky and Black Gate to get back to me. I kind of don't expect that to happen until February, just because it usually takes Black Gate about three months, and apparently all the publishers and agents in New York take a three month Christmas vacation. Getting my novel published would be freaking awesome--with a big enough advance, I could quit this horrible job and finish grad school without going insane.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Fighting and Lottery Scratchers
A few days ago, while I was at work, a lady called to complain because her mother had won $270 on a $5 lottery scratcher (go her!), and we had given her a check instead of cash. She claims this is against "the law," because the back of the scratcher says "Retailer will pay winnings up to $600." At the time, I didn't feel like pointing out that the ticket doesn't say "Retailer will pay IN CASH up to $600." I explained that it was store policy to give cash for any winning up to $100, and after that, we give a check. She ranted a bit longer about us going against the law, her mother wanting to start Christmas shopping on Saturday (when she cashed in her ticket), but now she can't because we gave her a hand-written check, which no one will cash and the bank wasn't open on Saturday, and blah blah blah. I felt like saying, "Christmas shopping?! Lady, Christmas is a month away! Will it really kill her to wait until Monday?!" I hope she doesn't want a PS3 (this clip makes me sick, by the way). I gave the very angry, loud woman the B.R.G.S/C.S. Customer Service number and figured that would be the end of it.
It wasn't. Yesterday she calls back again to complain that she drove her mother 40 minutes to the nearest Wachovia (cause they "don't have one in her town" ?!), and they had given her $265 out of her $270. Because she didn't have an account there, so they had charged her a $5 processing fee. It's a bank. Duh. Rather than ask her what she expected us to do about Wachovia's check-cashing practices, I asked her if she'd called the 800-number. She said she had, and they'd told her she needed to talk to the store manager. Now I'm annoyed with this lady and pissed off at Customer Service. What the hell are they doing passing a problem like this back down to store level? They're supposed to explain that this is store policy, not against state law, send her a gift card, and move on! L. says he's going to call them and find out why they handled it this way.
L has decided that on my last day (which he's hoping will be never), he's going to just let me have at a rude customer. Thank God. I've never laid into people on my last day before, mostly because I was afraid my employer would call my next employer and tell them not to hire me, after all. L keeps hoping I'll just "quit going to fucking school" and decide to move up the management chain. I don't think he quite understands that B.R.G.S/C.S. is not my vocation. It's just paying my bills. The only reason I'm a shift supervisor is because at the time, he really really needed a couple of them, and the money was better.
So W.E. and I are doing a Thanksgiving thing here tomorrow, and I was all excited about it until W.E. said he really didn't want to do it. Too late for me to cancel it, of course. He's even more antisocial than I am. At least I can make friends. So we got into yet another screaming fight (they're happening with more and more regularity), and now I'm much less excited. He's really not happy that L. invited himself over (which I don't mind; he doesn't have anywhere else to go, and doesn't know anyone in this town besides the people he works with). He really doesn't like L. I think, though he'd probably never admit it, that he's resentful of how much time I'm forced to spend with L (because we WORK together, dammit!). W.E., unfortunately, is one of those men who suspects infidelity every time someone with a penis walks past me. It's incredibly frustrating. And I'm getting tired of the constant fighting. I don't even know what to do anymore. Right now, I'm just trying to get through school. Then we'll see what happens.
It wasn't. Yesterday she calls back again to complain that she drove her mother 40 minutes to the nearest Wachovia (cause they "don't have one in her town" ?!), and they had given her $265 out of her $270. Because she didn't have an account there, so they had charged her a $5 processing fee. It's a bank. Duh. Rather than ask her what she expected us to do about Wachovia's check-cashing practices, I asked her if she'd called the 800-number. She said she had, and they'd told her she needed to talk to the store manager. Now I'm annoyed with this lady and pissed off at Customer Service. What the hell are they doing passing a problem like this back down to store level? They're supposed to explain that this is store policy, not against state law, send her a gift card, and move on! L. says he's going to call them and find out why they handled it this way.
L has decided that on my last day (which he's hoping will be never), he's going to just let me have at a rude customer. Thank God. I've never laid into people on my last day before, mostly because I was afraid my employer would call my next employer and tell them not to hire me, after all. L keeps hoping I'll just "quit going to fucking school" and decide to move up the management chain. I don't think he quite understands that B.R.G.S/C.S. is not my vocation. It's just paying my bills. The only reason I'm a shift supervisor is because at the time, he really really needed a couple of them, and the money was better.
So W.E. and I are doing a Thanksgiving thing here tomorrow, and I was all excited about it until W.E. said he really didn't want to do it. Too late for me to cancel it, of course. He's even more antisocial than I am. At least I can make friends. So we got into yet another screaming fight (they're happening with more and more regularity), and now I'm much less excited. He's really not happy that L. invited himself over (which I don't mind; he doesn't have anywhere else to go, and doesn't know anyone in this town besides the people he works with). He really doesn't like L. I think, though he'd probably never admit it, that he's resentful of how much time I'm forced to spend with L (because we WORK together, dammit!). W.E., unfortunately, is one of those men who suspects infidelity every time someone with a penis walks past me. It's incredibly frustrating. And I'm getting tired of the constant fighting. I don't even know what to do anymore. Right now, I'm just trying to get through school. Then we'll see what happens.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Mass Exodus
Yesterday was one of those days that will go down in Big-Red-Gas-Station/Convenience-Store History. One of those kinds of days where, when you're standing around talking about Bad Days in BRGS/CS History, you say, "No, but remember that day. . . ?"
I got to sleep in a little late yesterday (which was awesome). I got up at 10, took my two printed-and-bound (yes, BOUND) copies of my senior thesis to the college, and turned them in to their respective recipients. I also gave Dr. S, my advisor, a copy of Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere, which I referenced in the paper a LOT, and a copy of Heinlein's Starship Troopers, which he'd been wanting to read. Just to say thanks for the semester. Not at all to bribe him to give me an A. He was planning to do that already. I dropped off the other copy of the thesis and a copy of Neverwhere in Dr. WG's box. She doesn't know much about Fantasy, so I figured Neverwhere would be a good place to start. Ironic that the teacher I end up with is the one who has never read any modern Fantasy (not even Tolkien, so far as I can tell), unless you count Gothic stuff like Frankenstein and The Mysteries of Udolpho.
Then I shamelessly skipped my 1:00 class so I could bring W.E. home and put him back to bed (he had been up all night working on a project; he's already in grad school) and get ready for work.
So. The terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. I walk into the BRGS/CS, and the manager is running a register. Never a good sign. I head for the back to clock in, put up my coat, stash my purse, etc, and the office door is locked. Also not a good sign. I stood at the break table (right outside the office door) for a bit, and one of the beer vendors comes running into the back.
"Can you do me a favor?" he asks.
"Does it involve going in the office?" I reply.
"Can you come check me in? I've been waiting for an hour."
"That involves going in the office."
"What does that mean?"
"I don't have keys and I'm not even clocked in yet."
"Oh."
So he stomps off, I go up front to get keys from the manager (L), get into the office, clock in, let another employee clock in, then start getting the computer set up for the beer vendor. The handheld scanner is nowhere in sight, so I go up front, give L back his keys, and find the handheld on the front counter. Due to various and sundry problems, the beer vendor has to wait another 30 minutes or so to get checked in, and boy is he not happy. He informs me that L is a jerk, he should have checked him in an hour ago, and he won't be coming back to the store. When I went in the back to finalize the paperwork, L told me to kick the beer vendor out and refuse the whole delivery. Apparently they'd been having a glaring contest for the last hour, and neither of them were very happy with the other. The vendor did get checked in and his stuff put up and out of the store, but he's not allowed back in ever again.
The dorms closed at 5 PM last night and the gas stations down in town had hiked their gas prices to try to take advantage of everyone leaving, so they all came to us. $1.99 gas will do that, I suppose. As will having three times as many pumps as anyone else in the area. That many pumps didn't help, though; they were still stacked up three deep at the pumps almost all day. Just to give you an idea of how busy it was, when I close out everything at the end of the day, we average about $20,000-$25,000 a day. Total. Last night we did $41,000 and change. We started to run low on gas. And we ran out of baked sub rolls and had to do an emergency batch. AND we had a delivery from our distribution center. Luckily, our truck/maintenance guy was on it.
Just a few icky incidents after the beer vendor left. One of my cashiers was trying to help a customer who wanted twenty different kinds of cigarettes (most of which we were out of cause we hadn't finished unloading the truck yet), and couldn't make up his mind whether he wanted 100s or shorts or what. She was getting incredibly frustrated. So was he. When they finally figured out what he wanted and she started ringing them up, he says, "That's why they can't keep any help around here. Too many assholes." She turned bright red, and probably would have cussed him right back if I wasn't standing there. As it was, I said, "Sir, we're having a very rough day. Please give her a break." I hadn't actually heard the asshole part, or I would have asked him (politely, of course) to leave the store. I offered the cashier, who looked like she was about to blow a head gasket, a chance to go in the back, get a drink, take a deep breath, and calm down, but she said she was fine.
About thirty minutes later, during the mad scramble to bake bread, she came in the back and said, "There's another asshole out here who wants to talk to you." So I went out there, and the guy demanded to know why his sub hadn't been made yet. I explained to him about being out of bread, having to bake it, and four other people also waiting on the bread to come out of the oven. He growled and snorted and finally left without his food.
And all night, L's coming in and out of the store for no real reason. He said he was bored. Not bored enough to come work some more, of course, but bored enough to check his store e-mail, look at the size of the truck, wander through the store pulling empty boxes off the shelves, etc.
Now we're on Thanksgiving Break. Hallelujah. I'm planning on having a mini-Thanksgiving here at home with W.E. and some friends (L has invited himself, and I'll probably let him come over, or at least make extra and take it to him), then heading back to Buttcrackistan, where W.E.'s family is, for Thanksgiving Day (after I get off work at 10 AM). In the meantime, I have to read An American Tragedy, write an essay for Dr. S (which was due 2 weeks ago but he's been understanding about the thesis thing), and write fiction like crazy. And kick demon ass in Diablo II. Fun.
I got to sleep in a little late yesterday (which was awesome). I got up at 10, took my two printed-and-bound (yes, BOUND) copies of my senior thesis to the college, and turned them in to their respective recipients. I also gave Dr. S, my advisor, a copy of Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere, which I referenced in the paper a LOT, and a copy of Heinlein's Starship Troopers, which he'd been wanting to read. Just to say thanks for the semester. Not at all to bribe him to give me an A. He was planning to do that already. I dropped off the other copy of the thesis and a copy of Neverwhere in Dr. WG's box. She doesn't know much about Fantasy, so I figured Neverwhere would be a good place to start. Ironic that the teacher I end up with is the one who has never read any modern Fantasy (not even Tolkien, so far as I can tell), unless you count Gothic stuff like Frankenstein and The Mysteries of Udolpho.
Then I shamelessly skipped my 1:00 class so I could bring W.E. home and put him back to bed (he had been up all night working on a project; he's already in grad school) and get ready for work.
So. The terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. I walk into the BRGS/CS, and the manager is running a register. Never a good sign. I head for the back to clock in, put up my coat, stash my purse, etc, and the office door is locked. Also not a good sign. I stood at the break table (right outside the office door) for a bit, and one of the beer vendors comes running into the back.
"Can you do me a favor?" he asks.
"Does it involve going in the office?" I reply.
"Can you come check me in? I've been waiting for an hour."
"That involves going in the office."
"What does that mean?"
"I don't have keys and I'm not even clocked in yet."
"Oh."
So he stomps off, I go up front to get keys from the manager (L), get into the office, clock in, let another employee clock in, then start getting the computer set up for the beer vendor. The handheld scanner is nowhere in sight, so I go up front, give L back his keys, and find the handheld on the front counter. Due to various and sundry problems, the beer vendor has to wait another 30 minutes or so to get checked in, and boy is he not happy. He informs me that L is a jerk, he should have checked him in an hour ago, and he won't be coming back to the store. When I went in the back to finalize the paperwork, L told me to kick the beer vendor out and refuse the whole delivery. Apparently they'd been having a glaring contest for the last hour, and neither of them were very happy with the other. The vendor did get checked in and his stuff put up and out of the store, but he's not allowed back in ever again.
The dorms closed at 5 PM last night and the gas stations down in town had hiked their gas prices to try to take advantage of everyone leaving, so they all came to us. $1.99 gas will do that, I suppose. As will having three times as many pumps as anyone else in the area. That many pumps didn't help, though; they were still stacked up three deep at the pumps almost all day. Just to give you an idea of how busy it was, when I close out everything at the end of the day, we average about $20,000-$25,000 a day. Total. Last night we did $41,000 and change. We started to run low on gas. And we ran out of baked sub rolls and had to do an emergency batch. AND we had a delivery from our distribution center. Luckily, our truck/maintenance guy was on it.
Just a few icky incidents after the beer vendor left. One of my cashiers was trying to help a customer who wanted twenty different kinds of cigarettes (most of which we were out of cause we hadn't finished unloading the truck yet), and couldn't make up his mind whether he wanted 100s or shorts or what. She was getting incredibly frustrated. So was he. When they finally figured out what he wanted and she started ringing them up, he says, "That's why they can't keep any help around here. Too many assholes." She turned bright red, and probably would have cussed him right back if I wasn't standing there. As it was, I said, "Sir, we're having a very rough day. Please give her a break." I hadn't actually heard the asshole part, or I would have asked him (politely, of course) to leave the store. I offered the cashier, who looked like she was about to blow a head gasket, a chance to go in the back, get a drink, take a deep breath, and calm down, but she said she was fine.
About thirty minutes later, during the mad scramble to bake bread, she came in the back and said, "There's another asshole out here who wants to talk to you." So I went out there, and the guy demanded to know why his sub hadn't been made yet. I explained to him about being out of bread, having to bake it, and four other people also waiting on the bread to come out of the oven. He growled and snorted and finally left without his food.
And all night, L's coming in and out of the store for no real reason. He said he was bored. Not bored enough to come work some more, of course, but bored enough to check his store e-mail, look at the size of the truck, wander through the store pulling empty boxes off the shelves, etc.
Now we're on Thanksgiving Break. Hallelujah. I'm planning on having a mini-Thanksgiving here at home with W.E. and some friends (L has invited himself, and I'll probably let him come over, or at least make extra and take it to him), then heading back to Buttcrackistan, where W.E.'s family is, for Thanksgiving Day (after I get off work at 10 AM). In the meantime, I have to read An American Tragedy, write an essay for Dr. S (which was due 2 weeks ago but he's been understanding about the thesis thing), and write fiction like crazy. And kick demon ass in Diablo II. Fun.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Thesis . . . sis . . . ses
My final thesis is due in two days. We have what Dr. WG is calling a "polishing workshop" tonight in class, but that's the last feedback I'll get before I have to turn in the whole shebang on Friday. Considering every time I've thought I was about done, someone's yanked the rug from under me, it's making me very nervous. It's completely overshadowing the quiz I have today (in two and a half hours, and I haven't studied) and the Milton I have to read and respond to for tomorrow. Sigh.
I donated blood yesterday. It was making me a bit nervous that every time a new person got hold of my donor card, they started drooling. "Oooh . . . O-Neg. . . ." The nurse who jabbed me said, "I knew there was a reason I was looking so hard for that vein!" (I have deep veins.) Yes, people, I'm a lucky universal donor. Go me. Let's hope I never need a transfusion. But I do feel like I have a moral obligation to donate as often as possible because of it. Yesterday was a nightmare, though. They were holding the blood drive at the college, which they do every few months (long enough for us all to recover from the latest bleeding), but they didn't have enough beds, so the line was incredibly long. I made an appointment, but they were taking people on a first-come-first-served basis anyway. It took me almost three hours to get through the entire process, and the actual bleeding took eight minutes. The poor girl next to me was a first time donor, had to be jabbed in both arms before they found a vein that would bleed, then almost passed out right as she was finishing. I had never seen so many people pass out in the same room before, and I give blood a LOT.
Well, studying to be done, teachers to talk into reading my paper one last time, and Milton to read (ick). Must jet. Ta.
I donated blood yesterday. It was making me a bit nervous that every time a new person got hold of my donor card, they started drooling. "Oooh . . . O-Neg. . . ." The nurse who jabbed me said, "I knew there was a reason I was looking so hard for that vein!" (I have deep veins.) Yes, people, I'm a lucky universal donor. Go me. Let's hope I never need a transfusion. But I do feel like I have a moral obligation to donate as often as possible because of it. Yesterday was a nightmare, though. They were holding the blood drive at the college, which they do every few months (long enough for us all to recover from the latest bleeding), but they didn't have enough beds, so the line was incredibly long. I made an appointment, but they were taking people on a first-come-first-served basis anyway. It took me almost three hours to get through the entire process, and the actual bleeding took eight minutes. The poor girl next to me was a first time donor, had to be jabbed in both arms before they found a vein that would bleed, then almost passed out right as she was finishing. I had never seen so many people pass out in the same room before, and I give blood a LOT.
Well, studying to be done, teachers to talk into reading my paper one last time, and Milton to read (ick). Must jet. Ta.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Feisty Old Ladies
Every weekend I have to go back to that horrible, big glowing red eyesore I call my workplace. Every weekend it gets harder to deal with. Might be because every weekend, I'm that much closer to having a college degree, and I'm still working in customer service. Bottom-level customer service.
Last night, I called one of the third-shift employees, J, to see if he could work because we weren't sure if anyone had asked him yet and he's our most reliable (read: longest-lasting) third shift employee. Just about everyone else we've stuck on third (10 PM - 6 AM) has either quit or threatened to if we didn't put them back on first or second. His mother answered the phone and informed me that J had already left. When I inquired as to whether she knew if he was coming to work, she replied with a diatribe to the effect that J is 51 years old, she doesn't keep up with him, he has a college degree and is too good to be working here, she's 65 and has multiple sclerosis, he leaves her alone in this great big house to do all the work, and if he wants to be there so bad, we may as well just lock him in and keep him. Click.
Wow.
I informed the third shift manager that if they wanted J to work on a day he wasn't scheduled, he could call him, cause I wasn't talking to that lady again.
On the academic side of things, I'm still working on my thesis. The final is due on Friday. Yeesh. Luckily, my class on Monday was cancelled, so I have all day to work on it--and get some sleep. Dr. WG, despite her very nice words a few days ago, tore my paper a new one during our meeting yesterday. I don't even want to think about the enormous changes I'll have to make. Unfortunately, I have to, and I'd better stop dawdling here and go work on that.
Last night, I called one of the third-shift employees, J, to see if he could work because we weren't sure if anyone had asked him yet and he's our most reliable (read: longest-lasting) third shift employee. Just about everyone else we've stuck on third (10 PM - 6 AM) has either quit or threatened to if we didn't put them back on first or second. His mother answered the phone and informed me that J had already left. When I inquired as to whether she knew if he was coming to work, she replied with a diatribe to the effect that J is 51 years old, she doesn't keep up with him, he has a college degree and is too good to be working here, she's 65 and has multiple sclerosis, he leaves her alone in this great big house to do all the work, and if he wants to be there so bad, we may as well just lock him in and keep him. Click.
Wow.
I informed the third shift manager that if they wanted J to work on a day he wasn't scheduled, he could call him, cause I wasn't talking to that lady again.
On the academic side of things, I'm still working on my thesis. The final is due on Friday. Yeesh. Luckily, my class on Monday was cancelled, so I have all day to work on it--and get some sleep. Dr. WG, despite her very nice words a few days ago, tore my paper a new one during our meeting yesterday. I don't even want to think about the enormous changes I'll have to make. Unfortunately, I have to, and I'd better stop dawdling here and go work on that.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Of Theses and Jabberwocky
My thesis appears to be coming along well. Granted, it's not a dissertation or anything, just an undergrad thesis, not the basis for my graduating or receiving a degree, but it's still a huge deal. I was sitting in the hall waiting for my Brit Lit course to start and Dr. WG stopped on her way to her office to tell me that she'd read the thesis and thought it was coming along well. Her exact words were, "It's looking really good. It's really . . . involved." Well, considering it's a study of a genre that goes back about a billion years (not literally; only four thousand or so), of course it's involved. Especially since I have to cram it into 20 pages. I plan on using this for my Ph.D. dissertation . . . someday . . . and then I can babble about it all I want to, because it'll have to be a 300+ page book. Dr. S, my advisor/mentor for this piece, says he sees areas where I could really stand to elaborate, but understands that the paper's already 19 pages long and as soon as the library gets in the two books I still need, it will be even longer.
Also still working on Healing the Elder. I'm about halfway through the editing process, doing roughly a chapter a night. Hopefully JABberwocky (the agency I've queried) will want to see it. I'm taking it as a good sign that I sent the query out about 2 weeks ago and haven't gotten a rejection letter yet. As Dr. S keeps saying, the longer they keep it, the better the chances of getting published. Also waiting on Black Gate, but they've taken a good three months to reject every story I've sent them so far (versus Fantasy and Science Fiction's one week), so I don't look to hear from them any time soon.
Much work yet to do, miles to go, and all that junk. More later.
Also still working on Healing the Elder. I'm about halfway through the editing process, doing roughly a chapter a night. Hopefully JABberwocky (the agency I've queried) will want to see it. I'm taking it as a good sign that I sent the query out about 2 weeks ago and haven't gotten a rejection letter yet. As Dr. S keeps saying, the longer they keep it, the better the chances of getting published. Also waiting on Black Gate, but they've taken a good three months to reject every story I've sent them so far (versus Fantasy and Science Fiction's one week), so I don't look to hear from them any time soon.
Much work yet to do, miles to go, and all that junk. More later.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Protect Marriage!
The Protection of Marriage Act was up for vote here in VA yesterday. It passed. Dammit. I'm worried about this. Not because of the gay-marriage aspect. I don't care about that either way. I was raised Southern Baptist, and still have some "yeesh" factor left over when it comes to homosexuality. Just ask Birdman, who still doesn't speak to me. To explain exactly why I'm worried about this, let me tell you a hypothetical story.
It is 2020. My husband (who, for the purposes of keeping his identity as protected as possible, I'll call W.E.), has been killed (probably by a raving madman with a gun, because he would jump in to stop him). (Let me also mention that W.E. is loudly protesting his projected demise at this moment.) My friends--all female, all heterosexual, no intimate relationships between myself and them--have helped me through this horrible time, taken care of the kids, etc. Now, I want to write my will, and plan to give one of these wonderful women custody of my kids, the power to execute my living will, etc. Guess what? I can't. It's now against the law.
End of hypothetical story.
I disagree with any laws dealing with marriage. Marriage is a sacrament, like communion. They insist on separation of church and state, then pass laws like this. As far as I'm concerned, if hardcore Christians don't want gays to be married, they should refuse to marry them in their churches. Problem fixed. If done by the state, it would be a civil union, not a marriage.
Why do we focus on things that don't really matter? There's a war on, people. And I don't just mean Iraq. People who don't care about our laws are coming across our borders toting drugs and guns every day. Mexican police and army defend drug runners and persons immigrating illegally against our border guards and police. They cut holes in fences, cross private property, and kill anyone who tries to stop them or even sees them. Why aren't we taking care of that? Why are we lobbying so hard to make sure our morals, our ideas, are made into law rather than enforcing the ones already in place?
/End rant.
It is 2020. My husband (who, for the purposes of keeping his identity as protected as possible, I'll call W.E.), has been killed (probably by a raving madman with a gun, because he would jump in to stop him). (Let me also mention that W.E. is loudly protesting his projected demise at this moment.) My friends--all female, all heterosexual, no intimate relationships between myself and them--have helped me through this horrible time, taken care of the kids, etc. Now, I want to write my will, and plan to give one of these wonderful women custody of my kids, the power to execute my living will, etc. Guess what? I can't. It's now against the law.
End of hypothetical story.
I disagree with any laws dealing with marriage. Marriage is a sacrament, like communion. They insist on separation of church and state, then pass laws like this. As far as I'm concerned, if hardcore Christians don't want gays to be married, they should refuse to marry them in their churches. Problem fixed. If done by the state, it would be a civil union, not a marriage.
Why do we focus on things that don't really matter? There's a war on, people. And I don't just mean Iraq. People who don't care about our laws are coming across our borders toting drugs and guns every day. Mexican police and army defend drug runners and persons immigrating illegally against our border guards and police. They cut holes in fences, cross private property, and kill anyone who tries to stop them or even sees them. Why aren't we taking care of that? Why are we lobbying so hard to make sure our morals, our ideas, are made into law rather than enforcing the ones already in place?
/End rant.
First Bloggness
Technically, this isn't really my first blog. I had one at (gasp!) myspace. I'll probably be moving those posts over here, if possible. Later.
So far, I like what I see of this site. There's a spell checker! You have no idea how much I've hated not having a spell checker on my blog. Of course, typing it in Word and copy-pasting was just too much work to think about.
I think I'll go play with my profile and such. Should be fun.
So far, I like what I see of this site. There's a spell checker! You have no idea how much I've hated not having a spell checker on my blog. Of course, typing it in Word and copy-pasting was just too much work to think about.
I think I'll go play with my profile and such. Should be fun.
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