Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Don't Read This

18 days ago, I mentioned something about doing a Joe post. Then work got busy again so any hopes of hearing new Joe-isms were crashed. And now for the past few days I've had a cold. Nothing too bad, just a little coughing, lots of sneezing (at least 1 in 5 with gross, mucusy projectiles), and a constant nose drip. I mean literally CONSTANT. It refuses to stop running. How much more can possibly be in there? I'm starting to fear that eventually, my nose and, maybe even my entire head, will just dry up, shrivel and fall off.

I tore through a box of Kleenex yesterday, but all I have to show for it is a trash barrel filled with hardened, crumpled up tissues and the assurance that in a couple of days, I'm going to have those gross sores all under my nose.

But I've just made a medical breakthrough. If I stick Kleenix in my nostrils and hold it in place with a piece of tape that runs across the bridge of my nose to my cheeks, I can stop the dripping, and hopefully avoid the horrible sores from too much wiping. I've been wearing it now for twenty minutes. So far, so good! Take that, you lousy cold!

Friday, March 09, 2007

Purple Monkey Dishwasher

For some reason, TV executives seem to think that shows with ongoing storylines are bad. People would rather casually watch a string of standalone episodes rather than seeing a serialized plot drawn out over several episodes, seasons, or God forbid, the entire run of the show. Apparently, people who don't watch any given show regularly may sit down to watch one day, but rather than being drawn into the story, they're confused by the addition of a character than wasn't on when they last caught the show months earlier. Worried that they'll lose these casual viewers, they flood the schedule with filler episodes, significantly limiting the number of episodes devoted to the show's ongoing story arch and effectively pissing off all the people who actually tune in every week. Enough with the pointless filler episodes already! Screw the casual viewers, let them watch Dancing with the Stars or find out if they're smarter than a fifth-grader. My money's on "no."

The Dead Zone is a good example of this offense, specifically last year. There were eleven episodes last season, and maybe three of them had anything to do with the main storyline that they'd been building the previous four seasons. And they weren't even sure if the show was going to be picked up for another season; you'd think they'd try to wrap things up.

Why am I talking about this? Well, I've still got a Joe story coming. It even explains why I briefly saw him in another light, why I sort of dropped of the face of the Earth near the end of last year, and even the origins of the mysterious black smoke monster. But I've still got some fancy visual aids to go along with it that I haven't finished yet. So here's some filler.

The nurse from Brianna's school called yesterday. Brianna wasn't feeling well, so Michele got out of work early to pick her up. That meant I needed to find a ride home, so I emailed my mom and asked if she could pick me up. She wrote back that she would be at the eye doctor with my dad to pick out new glasses at 5:30, and to call her on her cell phone when I get to Braintree.

There's no phone service underground, so I always have to wait until we get out of the tunnel to make a phone call. All the stops after that are open-air, so I usually call when we're at the JFK stop to say I'll be in Braintree in about twenty minutes. Yesterday when I got out of the tunnel, I had a weird voicemail message. I listened to it twice, but I couldn't make out anything the guy was saying. It didn't help that the wheels thundering down the track and all the background noise all but drowned out the message, but it sounded to me like he was speaking a different language. A few months ago, I got a rambling, nearly two minute message in Arabic, so I thought this was another wrong number. When we got to JFK, I called my mom's phone. No answer. So I called my parents' house. No answer. Did she forget about me?

I decided to try Ryan's phone. But I didn't enter is number into my new phone yet and I couldn't remember it off the top of my head. I guess that's the danger of technology. When I was five, I could remember all kinds of numbers and dates, but now that we have these little devices that store all that information, at some point I just stopped memorizing all these new numbers because I had them stored on a computer. Curse you, technology!

Anyway, I had to call Michele to ask her to call Ryan, who of course gave me hell because I should have had his number in my phone and she put it in the day she got hers and it just went on like that. She called me back a few minutes later to say that Ryan told her Glenn left me a message to call his phone. So the indecipherable voicemail I got was actually my brother mumbling into the phone. Well that's the end of that mystery.

I did have Glenn's number in my phone, so I called and I heard my mom's voice. I said I was on the train. She said, "Yeah...?"

"Well, you're going to pick me up right?"


"You are going to pick me up, right?"

"Who is this?"

"You know who this is! Are you going to pick me up?"

"Who do you think you're calling?"

I wasn't really in the mood for this. "Glenn's phone." I sighed.

"Sorry, you've got the wrong number."

"Fine. Whatever." I hung up, or hit END really, since you can't hang up a cell phone. Less than twenty seconds later, I got a call from Glenn's phone. It's my mom.

"Hi, sorry, I didn't realize my phone was dead so I had to use Glenn's. Where are you?"

"What?! I'm on the train. I just told you that!"

"No you didn't.

"Yes. I did. I just called you and told you where I was, and you were being all weird and joking around."

"You didn't call here."

"Yes I did! Just now. You said I had the wrong number. Ha Ha. Very funny."

"I swear you didn't call this number. We're sitting here at the eye doctor's."

"...Well then I guess I did have the wrong number. I thought you were just being a jerk. But I called Glenn's phone. I hit the speed dial. How did I get a wrong number?"

Yes, it seems when I entered Glenn's number when I was setting up the speed dial, one of the digits was wrong. Being a new phone, this was the first time I called his phone. And by sheer coincidence, the woman who picked up when I dialed the wrong number happened to sound a lot like my mom. I really thought she was trying to mess with me. My family does stuff like that.

No one really knew all the details of exactly what happened until we all were in the car (except my dad, who was left at the eye doctor's to decide where to have dinner. I went home and had cereal, so I don't know how that turned out for them.) My mom was glad that I couldn't understand Glenn's message, which was actually "Mom's phone is dead, call mine." Because to her, it sounded like "Mom's dead. Call me." I can see where that would have caused even more confusion.

Friday, March 02, 2007

The Weather is a Bastard

I feel like there's an update on everyone's favorite unfrozen caveman designer in the near future. A lot has happened in the past few months. For instance, did I mention we have a new employee here at Where I Work, Inc.? And that it's a lady-type? Well, there is and she is. There was some lively discussion a few years ago as to whether Joe would shy away from blurting out such nuggets as "suck me off" and "everyone wants to lick me" if we ever got a female mixed back into the previously all-male staff, and if he didn't, whether it would driver her away screaming into the night. I have the answers to those questions and more, including what this is all about.

But first, I want to talk about the weather. Back in January, the trees in the public garden started blooming because it was so unseasonably warm. It didn't finally get cold until around the end of January or the first week of February. And when it did get cold, it got really cold. Fast.

Despite the cold, or perhaps because of it, we haven't gotten very much snow. I don't think we got more than three inches total all winter. But those three inches we did get, they came on Valentine's Day, and they mixed with rain to create a nice, horrible slush.

Being the hopeless romantic that I am, I had made plans for a special dinner at a classy restaurant that night. Actually, they were for the 15th, since the restaurant was already booked for Valentines Day back in early January when I made the reservations. For weeks, the weather was perfect, if a little cold, until the night before our fancy romantic dinner. The place is just a few blocks away from my work, but the idea of walking through all that wet, frozen slush in our best clothes sort of killed the mood. A lot of people had to cancel their fancy romantic dinner plans, too. It was disappointing, but a called and asked to reschedule so it was no big deal.

Brianna had her February vacation the following week and came in to work with me for the whole week, so I rescheduled the dinner for the next Friday, today. Every day between Valentine's Day and today has been fairly pleasant. We may have gotten another quarter inch of snow, but we've had a string of nice, sunny days. Especially this week. Until today. All the weather reports this week had the chances for heavy rain and/or snow for today at 100%. I was hoping and praying that they were wrong; it certainly wouldn't be the first time, but a peak out the window this morning proved otherwise.

Surprise! Rain. And lots of it. Stupid freaking weather. Whatever. I'm actually about to slush over to the restaurant right now, so I'll let you know how it turns out.