Monday, February 28, 2005

So... remember the cat pawing me in the face thing?

Yesterday, I got a manicure.  While waiting for my nails to dry, I walked around the mall and spotted an eyeglass shop.  (I wouldn't want to name them, but they craft lots of lenses there.)  My glasses had been sitting a little crooked ever since the kitty attack, so I thought I'd pop on in for a free adjustment.

The nice girl behind the counter tightened the screws on my glasses, but said she didn't see anything wrong with them.  Then she folded them up and saw that one of the stems was way crooked.  She took out her pliers, applied them to the stem and ...

... snapped that sucker right off.

Now, seeing as she has my eyeglasses in her hands, I can't quite tell what's going on.  But from the nature of the loud cracking noise, and her apparent efforts to jam the stem back into the rest of the glasses, I deduce that something bad just happened.

She then asks me, "How'd you say these got bent again?" and I tell her the cat kicked me in the face. 

She then goes to have a whisper with her manager.  I can't hear the entire discussion, but it appears to center around the disappointing fact that they don't have another pair of these frames in stock.  I also think I hear the repair-person explain something about how my cat sat on the glasses.  Classic "not my fault" behavior.

Manager comes over to the repair counter to give me the bad news about the stock situation.  She then gives me the worse news that, since my glasses are more than a year old, they're out of warranty.  And although she'd happily craft me a new set of lenses for free, I gotta pay half the cost of new frames.

Several thoughts go through my head at this point.  The first is that the free lenses thing can't be much of a deal as, although my glasses were more than a year old, the lenses weren't.  But the rather more important thought is, um, they broke the glasses -- no way I'm paying $80 for a new pair.

I reject the offer, and politely point out that I walked in with perfectly functioning glasses, and it was their work with the pliers that resulted in my immediate need for a new pair.  Manager is underwhelmed with the logic of my position, saying something about how the pliers are the tools they use to make an adjustment and I'd asked for an adjustment.

At this point, I did something that I've never done before -- I did my best impression of an immovable object.  I didn't argue; I didn't ask to see her boss; I didn't even say, "Are you really going to make me take you to Small Claims Court over half the cost of a pair of glasses that you broke?"  I just sat there giving her my best, "I'm not leaving without a free pair of glasses" face.

Manager disappears off in back.  I continue to play with my now-broken glasses.

Manager reappears with what is apparently a prepared speech.  It involves phrases like, "We'll make an exception just this one time" and ends with "if you select a frame between $90 and $100, we'll do it for you."  I agree.  She takes me over to the El Cheapo frame section of the store, and we try to look for a pair of frames similar to what I previously had on my face.  She has a pair in her hand which are the same color and size, and only a slightly different shape.  She hands them to me as a suggestion.  They seem fine.  I notice the price tag says $120.  I pretend I didn't see that and say, "These are fine, will you do them?"  She agrees and takes me over to the register.

While putting the order together, she glances at the price.  There's the slightest pause when she notices they're more than she said she'd give me credit for, but she also knows she had selected the damn things as the best replacement for my current frames.

A few hours later and I'm walking out of there with my nice new free glasses.  And the feeling that I played one right.

Sunday, February 27, 2005

Oscar Thoughts

First and foremost, we gloat.  Note the extreme accuracy of my picks there.  Got the two hard ones, too.  (The ones our fearless leader went the other way on.)  Of ten awards that I actually put picks in on, I got nine right, which I'd call pretty darned spiffy.

So, yay me.  Too bad I wasn't in a pool this year.

As for the rest --

-- I'm mixed on Chris Rock as host.  I loved the bit he did at the Magic Johnson Theater, but I believe that should be cancelled out by the stupidity of the bit he did with Adam Sandler.  (Don't tell me Zeta-Jones had actually gone missing at the last second.  As if some writer had actually scripted Sandler to drool all over her shoes, fer cryin out loud.)

-- And, so, they bleeped out the, er, three-letter-word for butt when it was used in the remote bit, but not when Rock used it live?  I'm confused.  (Also don't know what the bleeping rules are for that English word the sweet lady who won best Live Action Short said.  Reminds me of that time the Tony's let through a word they shouldn't have, as the dude with his hand on the buzzer wasn't quite sure what to do with the Irish variant.)

-- Doing the awards in the audience and/or putting the nominees on stage didn't work out as poorly as I'd expected.  They still got to say their acceptance speeches, and this way, we cut out the running to the stage bit.  I kinda liked that.  Especially considering the show ran about 10 minutes long as it was.

-- Loved Hilary Swank's dress.  Loved it less during the "red carpet" bit when it was a little too revealing.  Er, I mean, it looked a little cold outside, if you get my meaning.  But, once she got indoors, it was just classy as all get out.

-- Please, tell me, there's some other singer in America besides Beyonce. 

Saturday, February 26, 2005

Could I do it?

(I apologize in advance for the edit.  I know that, if any of you read this via Alerts, this means you'll get an alert for this entry twice.  And yet, a few hours after I posted it, I came across this photo, and well, I think you'll understand why it had to go in.)

(That's me in the white sweater.  This little piece of Special Effects Magic is the one souvenir they give you at the Warner Brothers museum.)

Yesterday, John Scalzi writes an entry about how CMT is looking to "hire" someone to be the Vice President of their "Dukes of Hazzard Institute" -- job requirements includes watching "Dukes" every night and keeping CMT's blog on the topic.

So I'm flipping channels last night, and happen upon CMT's "Dukes" rerun, and figure, what the heck?  Let's watch one, and see whether it's bloggable.  (I suspect the whole "let's watch one" part of this is what CMT was actually aiming for with its "job search."  I mean, how else are you going to get to, basically, run a story that says, in so many words, "Dukes of Hazzard reruns are now on CMT.  Every weeknight!")

So.  In no particular order, I present my blog regarding, episode three, "Mary Kaye's Baby."

-- OK, yeah, John Schneider was cute.

-- The Dukes were really poor.  Did I notice this when I was 12?  Their farm house looks really run-down.

-- In this episode, Uncle Jesse delivered some girl's baby, in the farm house.  Since there were bad guys chasing them and all, she had the baby in just a few minutes, and without screaming once.  Man, TV was so realistic back then. 

-- Interestingly, Jesse had a missing front tooth.  Made him look kinda creepy.  I watched a clip show after the episode, and it looked like they fixed up his dental work in later episodes.  And a good thing, too, because there was something about the missing tooth and the perpetual dirt under his fingernails that made me feel slightly ill when I thought about him pawing around some girl's privates helping her deliver a baby.

-- This really, really was a kid's show.  I don't think I noticed it at the time.  I mean, it was an hour-long prime time program -- I thought I was watching something grown-ups watched.  And maybe they did.  (Hell, I know some of the stuff I watch now is for kids.)  But this was very family oriented.  The boys were always trying to do the right thing, and, although they always got into fights, nobody ever got real hurt.  (In this episode, the sheriff actually shot someone.  Might be the only shooting ever on the show.  Of course, he shot him in the toe, which is probably the least fatal injury they could come up with.)  Of course, I'm still trying to figure out how running from the police was a virtue.

I don't think I'm gonna get this job.

Friday, February 25, 2005

Oscar Picks

OK, my picks for the Academy Awards.  These are based on:

1.  The few nominated films I've seen.
2.  Stray articles I've read regarding others' picks.
3.  How other awards have played out.

4.  The "Award Option" prices at  That is the "Hollywood Stock Exchange," where people buy & sell (fake) stocks with (fake) money in motion picture films and personalities.  The "Award Option" prices give a good snapshot of what folks -- folks who are obsessive enough about movies to wager fake money on them -- think is going to win.
5.  My Two Principles of Oscar Pickery:
     a.  The Academy ALWAYS pays its debts.
     b.  There's generally one (1) surprise award.  Frequently (but not always) in a supporting actor/actress category.

The picks, then:

Best Picture:  Million Dollar Baby
I feel good about this.  Which is to say, I wanted it to win even before I saw it.  When the nominations came out, the only nominated picture I'd seen was The Aviator, and I didn't think it deserved the big award.  Million Dollar Baby seemed its only competition, and, now that I've seen it, I'd say it's worthy.  And, even though Aviator took the Golden Globe, I've been pleasantly surprised to see the momentum swing in M$B's direction.  Most picks I've seen are going with it (Roger Ebert and Entertainment Weekly, to name two) and the Hollywood Stock Exchange people are betting on it over Aviator by more than 2 to 1 (and it went up another point today).

Best Director:  Clint Eastwood
This is the hard one.  Normally, it would be easy.  I'm assuming M$B for Best Picture; Eastwood won the Golden Globe (despite where they went with Best Picture); Eastwood won Director's Guild; Ebert likes Eastwood for it; HSX goes for him by almost 2 to 1; and what I didn't like about Aviator was largely the fault of director Scorsese.  But, look back at Principle of Oscar Pickery a.  The Academy pays its debts and it owes Scorsese an Oscar (four prior nominations, no wins) -- compared to Eastwood (two nominations, won for Unforgiven).  But, although the Academy owes Scorsese, I'm not sure they feel like they owe him now.  He's not yet 65, and he's got more movies left in him.  Besides, the Academy may feel like it owes Eastwood for Mystic River last year, which he didn't win because they were busy paying their debt to Peter Jackson.  (Interesting note -- everyone I spoke to at lunch today thought Eastwood did win for Mystic River.)  So, I'm going with Eastwood, but I'm not sure about it.

Best Actor: Jamie Foxx
This is the surest thing in Oscar picks this year.  HSX has him 10 to 1 over his nearest competitor (Don Cheadle, who I hear was wonderful -- but nobody's seen the movie).

Best Actress:  Hilary Swank
The second surest thing -- in that I haven't really heard anyone go against it.  HSX is also extremely high in her favor.

Best Supporting Actor:  Morgan Freeman
This one is going to be the Academy's debt-payer this year.  Morgan Freeman has three prior nomination (Shawshank Redemption, anyone?) and no wins.  His performance in Million Dollar Baby wasn't anything better than the solid work he's done for years, but it's about damn time they give him a statue, and nobody else turned in the sort of eye-catching work that would take it from him.

Best Supporting Actress:  Cate Blanchett
This will be the nod for Aviator.  (It may also clean up the more technical awards.)  But Blanchett's Hepburn was stellar.  (Entertainment Weekly picked her, and HSX is for her by nearly 2 to 1.)  I'm a little worried that Scalzi seems so solid on Virginia Madsen -- particularly as I haven't seen Sideways so can't judge -- but I don't feel like Madsen is going to pull off an upset of the Kevin Kline/Marisa Tomei variety.

Other Picks:
If Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind isn't the freakin' definition of Original Screenplay, I don't know what is.  Which leaves Adapted Screenplay as the consolation prize for Sideways.  I like The Incredibles for Best Animated Feature both because it rocks and because I think the Academy voters would like any opportunity to emphasize to Disney execs how important Pixar is.  "Accidentally in Love" (Shrek 2) is the one Oscar-nominated Best Song that I put on my ipod.  And, honestly, I think Best Art Direction is too close to call.

Thursday, February 24, 2005

Ten Things

Not homework, but a meme (and here's where Scalzi brought it into AOL-J land):

Ten Things I've Done That You Probably Haven't

1.  Got Mr. T's autograph.  Twice.
2.  Cried in the ladies bathroom at the Cairns airport
3.  Watched the movie Saturday Night Fever 12 times.
4.  Been backstage at three Broadway theatres
5.  Placed last in two figure skating competitions
6.  Got a watch with Basil of Baker Street on it
7.  Told a Santa that what I wanted for Christmas was "for everyone in the world to be Jewish."
8.  Got a lifetime batting average of .000 (and, paradoxically, an Elementary School certificate proclaiming "Third Place -- Batting")
9.  Had a key button fly off my top in front of co-workers
10.  Been called for jury duty four times, and sat on a jury each and every time.

This week's homework

Probably my shortest answer to a weekend assignment ever.  (So short, I'm actually posting it from work!)

For this week's homework, Scalzi asks:

Weekend Assignment #12: Thanks to time travel and invisibility, you can be on the spot for any important event of the last 100 years (1905 onward). Which important historical event do you choose?


I answer:

Kennedy Assassination.  Because I want to know.

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

A Happy Medium??

Had Monday off and, while I was doing some computer stuff, I had the TV on in the background showing "Oprah."

Oprah's show was all about people who used to look, well, say, somewhere between "dumpy" and "not hip," who took a look at themselves in the mirror, got motivated to make a change, and have made changes that have lasted for, like, a decade -- making them NOW look better than they did ten years ago.

And, although some of the guests' plans for health & beauty had their own bizarre little twists (like Preparation H on your face thing), they all had a couple of things in common:




And neither in what I'd call "moderation."  I mean, there's this one woman who would do bends balanced between a chair and her kitchen counter whenever she happened to be in the kitchen.  This wasn't just dropping by a gym two or three times a week, this was making exercise a second job.

They all looked fantastic; they did.  But I got more and more depressed as the show went on and we saw more and more women who devoted the last ten years of their lives to looking hot.

Because, I mean, I'd like to look hot, sure.  But I also like doing things other than going to the gym.  And I like eating hot fudge cake with ice cream on it every once in awhile.  And this show seemed to be saying, "Hey, if you want to look hot in your late 40s, make a commitment now to spend the next decade eating healthy, exercising six days a week, wearing makeup every day, and putting all manner of facial (and nonfacial!) goo on your face on a nightly basis."  And I can't help but think that, as much as I'd like to look nice, I wouldn't want to pretty much give up the next ten years of my life in the pursuit of looking hot.  There's too much fun to be had.

Couldn't Oprah instead be celebrating people who take a sane, middle course -- those who eat generally healthy and live generally right, but also aren't afraid to enjoy the pleasures that life throws 'em, and aren't so caught up in appearance?

Book Meme

I saw this one over on olddog299's journal, and thought I'd try it.  (Late night blogging.  Dangerous.)

  1. Grab the nearest book.
  2. Open the book to page 123.
  3. Find the fifth sentence.
  4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
  5. Don’t search around and look for the “coolest” book you can find. Do what’s actually next to you.

Okey doke.

Fairbairn, Alec, the lover of Mary Browner, killed by her husband (CARD).

(That's from Jack Tracy's Encyclopaedia Sherlockiana, which is on my desk for easy reference.)

Sunday, February 20, 2005

Idiots and Clint Eastwood Movies

OK, so, what I'm going to say here is rather big spoiler for Million Dollar Baby, so in order to not, y'know, accidentally ruin the movie for y'all, I'll be using the old web-technique of writing it in white text.  You just highlight with your cursor and it magically appears.  Wow.  Ain't technology grand?

And if you happen to read my journal via alerts and don't want the movie spoiled for you, well, you'll just want to delete this particular alert right now, without reading further.  

OK, we all good with that?

Good.  If you've already seen Million Dollar Baby, start with the highlighting here

>So, at the end of the movie, I'm staying to watch the credits (as I always do, being a respectful theatergoer).  The people behind me are staying to watch the credits, too, although (being less respectful) they're using this time to diss the movie.  So this one woman says that she didn't like the movie because she came at it from a "political" point of view.  And I'm thinking, "OK, she's not a big fan of right-to-die."  But, no, that isn't where she's going with this AT ALL.  She goes on to say how, she's a feminist, and (at first) she really liked this movie because it was all about this nice, strong female character.  And she liked how they didn't sexualize her body, or make it love story, or do anything like that.  (And I'm thinking, "Right on, sister!")  And then she says, "But then it turned out the message of the movie is, 'if you're a strong woman, you end up dead.'"

And I'm just so SHOCKED by the fact anyone would think this was an anti-feminist movie, or that it was consciously (or even subconsciously) trying to put out some anti-strength message to women.  Was this chick (the one behind me, not the Hilary Swank character) seriously suggesting that the MESSAGE of the movie was that the Hilary Swank character would have been better off just staying in the trailer with her no-good family?  Or waiting tables and living off other people's scraps?  The whole point of Morgan Freeman's speech at the end -- the one giving Clint Eastwood permission to do it -- was that she HAD a fuller life than she'd ever dreamt of.

Not to mention how much STRENGTH it actually took her to ask for him to help her do it, and to even try to do it herself to make it so clear that's what she wanted. 

I am still just SEETHING that someone could so misinterpret the movie, and think that feminists ought to get all riled up over the idea that "Million Dollar Baby" is telling strong women that they'll end up dead.< (End of the spoilery part.)

Reminds me of when I saw "Unforgiven," and I was walking out of there, stunned beyond belief that Clint Eastwood had made such an incredible movie about the pointlessness of violence, and this couple walks by me saying, "It wasn't bad, but there wasn't enough killing in it."

Poor Clint.  I get you, man, even if none of my neighbors do.

Saturday, February 19, 2005

Homework -- When Animals Attack!

Regular readers of this journal are probably already aware of the fact that NZ has a cat who sometimes gets to write journal entries and, oh yes, is the cutest thing ever.  Honestly, I am.  (You just have to scroll down a bit for that last one.)

So, I get to write the journal entry again today, because for this week's homework, that Scalzi fellow asks for "an amusing tale of a pet attacking someone or something."

Let me clear this up right away.  There is NOTHING amusing at all about it when I attack.  I am a predator!  A huntress!  When I attack, I am dead serious.  Here's my dead serious face:

"Sweet adorable kitten" my furry little butt -- I'm a lion, I tell you. A LION.  ROARRRR!

As for the whole "attack" thing, perhaps you've seen this recent entry, in which NZ blows a minor little clawing WAY OUT OF PROPORTION. 

Now, she'll tell you that she was sitting on the couch and I was sitting next to her and decided to go for a jump on the back of the couch -- and that I misjudged the strength I needed to clear her, and while I was mid-jump, I pushed my back feet off of the nearest available surface which just happened to be her face.

Ha.  "Misjudged."  Right.

Here's what really happened:  She was having a lousy month.  Between the boyfriend break-up and the apartment upstairs "raining" used bathwater into her bathroom (and the hole cut into her ceiling for investigative purposes) AND her getting sick and everything else, she was just sitting there slurping chicken soup and feeling all sorry for herself.  (And not giving me NEARLY enough under-the-chin scritchies, I might add.  Man, I love me some under-the-chin scritchies.)

ANYWAY, it seemed desperate measures were called for -- the feline equivalent to the old "Snap out of it" slap across the face.  I perfectly planned a quick little clawing, careful not to hit her eye or cut her up real bad or anything.  Perfectly executed it, too.  And it worked, too.  See how cheerful she is now?

"Misjudged a jump."  Puh-lease.

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

Why I Was Up Late Last Night

I sat down to pay bills tonight.  And, flipping through my checkbook, I realized that I didn't get a MasterCard bill this month.  This would be a mistake -- as I definitely charged stuff.

So, I called up my bank.  To protect the guilty, we'll call them MyBank.

I get the telephone banking computer.  It asks for my account number.  I duly type it in.  It asks if I want to know my balance and payment date.  Yeah, that'd be nice.  It gives me a balance and says it was due four days ago.  Not so good. 

I go back to the main menu and wait for the option for a Live Human Being.  (Press 5.)  I press 5.  The Live Human Being comes on the line.

She tells me they're doing routine maintenance on the computer.  I must call back in about an hour.

(Did I mention it was just past 11 pm?)

I settle in for an hour of waiting.  I call back just after midnight.  I press 5. 

I get the same Live Human Being.  She tells me to call back in another 15 or 20 minutes.

I call again at 12:30.  I press 5.

No Live Human Being this time.  I'm on hold, because there is, apparently, a long line of customers who have been waiting for the computers to go back up online.

I get a Live Human Being!  He asks what's up.  I explain about the whole no statement thing.  He looks at my file, decides I really DO pay my bill on time, and agrees to waive the late fee while he sends me a new statement.

OK, here's the fun part.

It'll take "seven to ten days" to mail me a new statement.  I can just take his word for the balance, he says, and send him a check.

Fair enough.  Although, I suggest, why don't I just do a transfer from my checking account and pay him right away?  Here's what follows:

Him:  Well, you can do that, but the problem with that is there is a charge of $14.95.

Me:  You're kidding me.

Him:  No.  We charge $14.95 for a funds transfer.

Me:  Is this something new?  I do this all the time and I've never been charged before.

Him:  No.  We have always charged $14.95 for a funds transfer.  Maybe you have some arrangement with your bank.

Me:  YOU are my bank.  My checking account is with MyBank. 

[Silence.  I assumed this resolved the misunderstanding, but it clearly did not.]

Him:  That may be, but the charge for a funds transfer is $14.95.

Me:  I've never been charged before.  I do it over the phone.  The computer asks me if I want to transfer funds between linked accounts, and I do it, and there's no fee.

HIm:  [broken record]  Maybe you have an arrangement with your bank.

Me:  [yelling now]  It's YOU!   My checking account is with MyBank!

Him:  That's "MyBank."  We're "MyBank Credit Services."  That's different.


I hang up, call the MyBank computer that owns my checking account, and do a funds transfer to the credit card.  No charge.

Sunday, February 13, 2005

Better than homemade cookies

I just had the greatest warm and cozy feeling.  The experience reminded me of the very bestest part of childhood.

It wasn't comfort food.

It wasn't photographs.

It was a copy of my (now out-of-print) favorite children's book.  Called "Peppermint."  About a little white kitten in a candy shop who... oh never mind, it isn't important.  The point is, I snagged a copy off ebay and was ever so happy to sit down and read it.  (A process that took all of, what? three minutes.)  It had been my absolute favorite when I was kid.  I always wanted mom to read it to me.  And she wouldn't read it all the time -- I think maybe she was afraid I'd want a kitten if I read it too much -- so it was my special occasion favorite book.  I also remember reading it to a little girl I babysat for when I was a bit older.  And then it disappeared off my radar and I haven't thought about it for a solid twenty years.

And now I have it again, and the familiar story and the familiar drawings are so comforting in a reconnecting-with-my-past sort of way.  Amazing what a little memory-trigger can do.

Thursday, February 10, 2005

I regret this already

For this week's homework, John Scalzi asks:

Weekend Assignment #47: Reveal Your Teenage Celebrity Crush! Oh, come on. We all had one. Share yours, and tell us why that particularly celebrity tripped your teenage trigger.

Extra Credit: Tell us: Do you still have a little teeny bit of a crush on that celebrity? Yes? No? Maybe so?

OK, here's the thing (she says, making excuses already), when I was a kid, I totally bought into that whole "it's what's on the inside that counts" thing.  I never really went for the pretty boys in Tiger Beat.  No, not me.  I was always firmly in the "Brains Is Sexy" camp.  So, um, when all the other girls were plastering their walls with posters of Shaun Cassidy and Rick Springfield, I, um, had a secret thing for, um, gosh, uh...

Leonard Nimoy as Mr. Spock.

There.  I said it. 

Do I still have a teeny bit of a crush on him?  No.  Not at all.  Not the leastest bit.  Although, occasionally, I've found that "Data" chap quite attractive.  I mean, what with the brains and having been programmed with many different techniq--  I've said too much already.


OK.  I broke down and watched Wife Swap last night.  They'd promo'd it during Lost and I thought, "what the hell."

Premise:  Two wives switch families.  For the first week, they follow the rules of their "new family"; for the second, they change them all.

This week:  A liberal lesbian swaps with an anti-gay, Christian, Republican who believes in "excellence" in cookie baking and table-setting.

Yeah.  There were a few sparks.  It got ugly.  Tears flowed.  So did words like "depraved."  The whole thing was kinda mean and made you wonder why both of these families signed up to have their dirty laundry aired on TV.  At least the wife-swapping show on some other network (Fox?) ends with each family getting $50,000.  This just ends with each family getting reunited and picking up the pieces.

But what really hit me last night was how genuinely mean each of the wives were when they got to set the rules in their new families.  The lesbian woman took her "new" conservative husband for a dance lesson at a gay bar.  Her rationale for this was "You said you were open-minded..."  But it wasn't like dancing at a gay bar was going to loosen this guy up, or make him more open to the gay community -- it was just that it was kinda ... FUN watching him be all horribly awkward trying to dance with another guy.  OTOH, the uptight conservative woman made her "new" lesbian partner plant a Republican sign in her front yard.  And, again, you've gotta ask the purpose.  It certainly wasn't designed to engender any love or understanding between the lesbian woman and the Republican party.  Nah, it was nothing but something hurtful, desgined to make her feel uncomfortable.

Depressing to see how, after a week in each other's shoes, each woman couldn't pass up the opportunity to be petty.

Tuesday, February 8, 2005

Time for another kitty picture

One of the nice things about XP is the making of your own screensaver.  (Perhaps you could always do this and I just never noticed.)  ANYWAY, my screensaver is a slideshow of many pictures of Jasmine.  And as it rotates through them all, I keep stopping it on this one.  I just wuv it.

Don't you just wanna hug her?  Don't you?

Question Du Jour

Where was "forfeit" when they were making up that "i before e" thing?

(It isn't "after c" and it isn't "sounding like 'ay' as in 'neighbor' or 'weigh.'")



Update on zone.msn sobriety:  I earned my one-day chip!

Sunday, February 6, 2005

The First Step Is Admitting You Have a Problem

I've been tired all week at work, and really needed to start getting some sleep this weekend.  I was doing pretty well.  At around 1:30 last night, I stopped IMing a friend and told her I had to go to sleep.

But I didn't go to sleep. 

No.  Not me.

I played "one more game."

Stupid effing computer games over at  I wouldn't have even known about them excepting your XP computer comes preloaded with a link to them.  Innocently click on "Internet Jeopardy" and you'll find yourself in a world of Flipwords, Text-Twist, Bejeweled, Inspector Parker, Betrapped, Trivia, and about a zillion others.  All of which conveniently keep track of your best score, and give you little stars based on how well you do.

I've hit the three star level in six games so far.  And at around 3:30 last night, I finally decided that it wasn't that important to get that third star in a seventh game.

While staggering to bed at around 4:00, I made one promise to myself for today:  No computer games.  No "oh, just one quick game after I update my journal."  No "ok, how about Spider Solitaire since that isn't even a zone.msn game."  I've gotta go cold turkey.  For my sanity's sake.  I have to master this habit before it masters me.

You folks want to know why I haven't updated my journal in a week?  I been feedin' the beast, man, and it's a hungry one.