beancounters

Sideshow sideline

Rhea came up with a unique and truly superb idea on her blog. She labelled it 'humor', but I can't tell why.

Your job getting you down? Want to chuck it all and be your own boss?

Why not become a freelance phrenologist? (Not to be confused with phlebotomist.)

It’s a great career.

First, you would have very little competition, no matter where you hung out your shingle.

Second, you wouldn’t have to pay for ads because word would get out that you were practicing phrenology and the media would be on your doorstep in no time.

Finally, there’s no classes, degrees or certification exams required. Anyone can practice phrenology!

Frankly, I fail to see a down side to this idea.

I mean, look. There's a psychic who has a shop on Broadway in Sacramento. Been there for years. Has neon signs in the window. That sort of thing. One time, this journalism student wrote up how uninspiring her visit to the Broadway psychic was, how she didn't learn anything, how it was all fake, blah, blah, blah. The article got published in our alternate paper. Do you think that psychic lost one bit of business? Of course she didn't. Because her clients don't read that paper. And if they did, they probably wouldn't care. See? She has perfect job security.

I'll grant you that the name 'phrenology' has a certain Victorian-era taint to it. If I went into that line of work I'd have to modify the name. Give it a 21st century edge - or at least a 20th century one. Like 'Cerebral Mapquesting'. Mwheh-heh.

Dude, hold my soda a sec'

RE: Potato Salad Man - I decided not to go to my supervisor.  That would be admitting defeat, and I'm not ready to do that. Instead, I have redoubled my efforts to convince him that he cannot wait to send me my printer. You know - e-mails, voice mails, flowers, candy, etc. After all, it's possible I pegged him wrong - that he's faithful to me, but bogged down in paperwork.

--><--

Tipping Point, so far, is an excellent book. He meanders a little while getting to his points, but in this case, that's all right - he's a good writer. I like the journey almost better than the destination.

--><--

Tonight, I head for the college. It's time for the annual back to school 'party' with my cohort and my professors. I use the quotes because logistically, the gathering will consist of a bunch of pizza and a cooler of bad-for-you sodas on a picnic table, with all of us sort of standing around, awkwardly eating pizza on paper plates, while holding our soda cans under our elbows. Snork! But on the plus side is, well, you know. The excellent company.

If I ever seriously want to travel

I will ask a rubber duck if I can tag along on a trip. Obviously, some of them are loaded.

"Excuse me - any of you heading for Europe?"

Banner

Typepad tells me that only the top-of-the-line blog accounts have a feature that lets you center your blog banner. That's not gonna happen. So I figured out a DIY way to make my blog banners "center" on the page. Whenever I make a graphic I will include squares on either side, in the same color as the background so they'll be invisible. I'm like MacGyver over here.

Okay, it's not perfectly centered. But it's better than it was yesterday.

Potato salad and arranged marriages

There's a distant coworker who is dangling me on purpose. I can sense it. At some point, there's just no other explanation. He is responsible for putting through paperwork that will transfer a color printer to my agency. I was designated "point person" on this very important acquisition. So I e-mailed him several times on this subject. His replies were sporadic and vague, and his promises yielded no positive results.

Next, I called him. He was charming. He even semi-flirted, within the narrow confines of today's sexual harrassment-leery atmosphere. He swore he'd start the paperwork. I hung up, happy to have finally connected with him. But he never came through.

Last week I even visited him in person. That was a funny encounter, let me tell you. I happened to be at his building one morning. I asked directions to his cubicle, just walked right over to him and introduced myself.

Picture a guy who is now avoiding your e-mails and calls, having to look you in the eye and account for himself. To make the scenario better, picture him with a mouthful of potato salad - I'd caught him while he was eating his lunch. I was sort of squicked out that we had once semi-flirted by phone - as was he, probably.

Anyway, more promises, more promises. And sure enough, no follow-through. He is taking advantage of the fact that, because I don't work in that building, I don't know the lay of the land. I have to take his word for everything. He has all the power in this relationship, and none of the accountability - unless I make another trip to his building, which we've already discovered is really a non-threat because, again, I have no leverage on his attention span.

If we were dating, I'd be obsessively writing "Mrs. Potato Salad Man" on my notebooks and waiting endlessly for him to propose to me.

Next, I must take this to my supervisor. Hate to do that; it's like admitting defeat. But if I myself went over his head to his boss, the news would get broadcast everywhere, and I'd get smacked down seven ways to Sunday. And then I'd never get my printer. Elevating the aggression will have to be done from the supervisory level.

Heh. I'm picturing this issue moving up the food chain to the level where Potato Salad Man and I actually share an administrator. Then that person (undoubtedly a man) would simply make one call and poof! the deed would be done.

How a regular post turns into a routine meme

Do you wake up in the morning, wondering what on earth you are going to blog about?

Man, what a bizarre hobby this is. The fact I do wake up in the morning and my first thought is what to blog, used to depress me. Now it challenges me. Except this morning ... too sleepy to concentrate on a good first topic.

And now it's too late.
* Must wake up the Bunny (with the help of two small dogs who will step all over her back and make her cranky).

* Must get coffee and carry the cup everywhere.

* Must greet BB before he leaves for work, and tell him about a dream I had of him having to plan some sort of party for his own damn self, because his grad school wife dropped the ball and couldn't finish what she started. How we will laugh! Because he is almost constantly reassuring me this week that I absolutely need to finish school, and basically, Everything Will Work Out.

* Then I need to get dressed and figure out what to do with my hair so I don't frighten anybody.

* Feed Bunny and myself - this is the easiest part of the morning, as Bunny has been conditioned to eat whatever breakfast I place in front of her without (much) comment. I know, right? I must be an ogre in the mornings.

* Must pack hers and my lunch. This, by contrast, is subject to many, many comments. Bunny will get a make-it-yourself pizza lunch. This includes:

1) one small pizza crust cut into fourths (but only 3 pieces are included), 2) a small container of pizza sauce, 3) some summer sausage cut up. Place all items in a baggie (it does all fit). Be sure to pack a plastic knife for spreading the sauce. Add a small cup of fruit with a spoon (in another baggie so there's no mess), some carrots, a granola bar for morning snacktime, and a bottle of water.

* My own lunch will be a sandwich of some variety, with baby greens instead of just plain lettuce, thank you. Plus lots of fruit and a coupla cans of diet cola.

*  Oh. Somewhere in there, must read the funnies and the op-ed columns.

* Must watch the rest of the morning go by in a blur of tiny chores, notes to teacher, packing the car, and driving Girl to school.

* Must drive to work myself. Get out of the car. Go in. Shut the door. Sit down in cubicle. And think what to blog!

For all you superheroes

It's Saturday, so you have time to become familiar with the new Superhero Registration Act through this helpful FAQ pamphlet.

Like many pieces of legislation that were rushed through Congress, the recent Superhero Registration Act is vague in certain areas and unexpected questions have cropped up. Luckily the government was able to provide this handy guide to common Registration Act questions:

Q:  I used to be a mutant but I recently lost my powers.  Do I still have to register?
A:  No, you do not need to register, but you do need to fill out form 341-T “Declaration of Cessation of Urban Vigilante Activity”. Fill out the personal information, mark the appropriate box for the reason behind your loss of powers, and drop it off at the nearest FBI or SHIELD office. Farm-based hereos will need to fill out form 341-W, which applies to rural activities.

[via Chaos Theory, who I believe works for the forces of Eeevil]

Me? I have a sudden urge to watch The Incredibles again. Who's with me? Come on over. Let's just hang out in front of the TV this morning. Bring doughnuts.

Where's 'stealth blogger' on this list?

Your Career Personality: Independent, Down-to-Earth, and Hard Working

Your Ideal Careers: Business executive, Computer programmer, Financial analyst, Geologist, Hedge fund manager, Lawyer, Pharmacist, Real estate agent, Stockbroker, Technical writer.

The Quick and Dirty Career Test

Look at all the careers having to do with managing other people's money. Fools! Mwhah-ha-haa! I can barely remember to manage my own money.

[via Cmdr Sue]

Friday dog-blogging: Sammy's origins

He's not just a terrier mix after all ... He's an alien ...

What's left on your reading list?

And without warning, August threw out her hands and cast away the remaining days of summer. Soon, September loomed into view, and those without the means to escape felt like they were pelted with slow-motion pillows during the three day weekend that was Labor Day.

But I digress.

Have received almost all my books for school, which starts in a scant two weeks. They range in topics from the history of California land use planning, to collaborative methods. There's also a provocative book whose theme is that says that citizens actually don't really want to know much about how their government operates - that it's a 150 year-old myth that people yearn for direct democracy and would get much more highly involved with gov't if gov't weren't so flawed. That's the one I've attacked first.

So all these, plus the latest Martha Stewart mag, plus the book for Maya's last bookclub meeting - The Tipping Point - are currently on my reading list. Though to be honest, I will just do a collegiate skim of the four schoolbooks for now.

What are you reading before fall begins?

Cubicle decorations you could really use

In my former office, we were a sad, sad bunch. Our work was unappreciated. The public didn't need us. Lobbyists were trying to get us legislated out of a job. We didn't trust our leaders, and they didn't trust us. Morale could not have been lower if you'd visited daily and beaten us with sticks. In such a climate, the traditional motivational posters on our walls were looked upon with nothing short of derision.

Now comes some motivational posters that would have made sense to us. Star Trek!

Some of these are kind of provocative (Kirk-on-Spock action? Inconceivable.), but most are inspired. Download for free in jpg or png formats. Your cubicle is waiting ...

Saving all his love for Whitney

Mainstream news just got a whole lot weirder today.

Terror mastermind Osama bin Laden is so obsessed with singer Whitney Houston he thought about killing her husband, Bobby Brown, it was claimed last night.

"[Osama would talk about] how beautiful she was, what a nice smile she has, how truly Islamic she is but is just brainwashed by American culture and by her husband Bobby Brown, whom Osama talked about having killed, as if it were normal to have women's husbands killed."

I like this remark in the comments section: "Yeah, but how would he get round Kevin Costner?"

It's too bad the CIA shut down the Osama division last month. They could have used Whitney in a plot to snare him. It's what the CTU would have done.

Heh. I remember this guy.

... except in Sacramento, "he" used to hang out at the Capitol Garage coffee shop on L Street, before it sold out and turned upscale. Where is he now, I wonder?

Running dog

Sammy is a runner. Excellent. I blame Chatty Neighbor, his previous owner, for this habit: if the door is open, even a crack, he's outta here. He leads us on a merry chase down the street. Sometimes he heads back for his former home, sometimes - whups! Fooled ya! - he veers and keeps heading east.

I heard from a lady at the pet supply store that we should take him to a dog park, where he can run free in a controlled area, and that this will satisfy his urge to run.

Maybe we should keep those tiny training treats near the door, and grab a handful when we have to go after him. Entice him back with treats, that sort of thing.

I do know you are not supposed to yell at the dog while chasing him, because that's a negative reinforcer. He feels no incentive to return to an angry human.

Blogfolk, have any quick advice for breaking a dog of this knack of running? We taught Daisy years ago, but she was a puppy, and not set in her ways.

That's one way to do it

On Friday, the veternarian gave Sammy a clean bill of health, but said that he could stand to put on some weight.

Today while we were out, he jumped up on the kitchen table and ate a cube of butter!

We've never had to dog-proof the table before. We are not amused.

Bring me the head of Maya

It's Saturday, so you have plenty of time to ... WARP YOUR REALITY ... with a couple of videos.

First, a very disturbing short film: Bring me the head of Charlie Brown. I believe it was featured on BoingBoing a couple of days ago ... those sick bastids ... this is where the guys from 'South Park' undoubtedly got their first ideas.

And this recommendation from Maya - The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins. All she did was mention I should look it up. She could have prepared me for how face-meltingly awful it was, but she didn't. For this, I shall make her pay. Oh yes. But you, worthy blogfolk! I beg of you, do not undertake this video lightly! This is but a sample of what dark atrocities await!

You have been warned!

Friday dog-blogging: Sammy

He's not exactly an attractive dog. His fur is smooth on his head and legs, and wiry on his body, making his shape something like a tiny albino hyena. His tail - oh, just wait 'til I get a photo of his tail. It sticks straight out the back, with no pleasing curl to it at all.

What the hell kind of terrier mix is he? His ears say Jack Russell; his terrible fur says rat.

He's way too skinny. His skin is black though his fur is white. He has a high-pitched voice. Good Lord! He's Michael Jackson!

But oh, how we love him already. He's just perfect.

And he seems to love us. He learned his new name in a matter of hours, blogfolk - as if he couldn't wait to shed himself of an old life.

Chatty Owner told me that Sammy's very first owners beat him with a baseball bat, and that for that reason he favors one front leg. That's a sad story, but if it's really true, it hasn't affected his present outlook. He doesn't favor any leg at all, and he's absolutely trusting of anybody, wielding any size object, anywhere near his precious body. Last night I was shaking out fresh garbage bags for the cans. Daisy, the Pomeranian, hates this ritual. It's too startling for her. She made herself scarce. But Sammy stuck close and watched with curiosity.

He admires Daisy. They are not pals yet, but she lets him pay homage to her great beauty. Then he chases her around the house. And when she gets tired of him she jumps up on the couch and won't let him join her until he settles down.

All in all, it's going well. We see the vet this Friday. Chatty Owner assured us he has "tags" that prove he's current on his shots, but she hasn't brought them by yet. And as it never seemed to occur to her that one ought to have a dog neutered to keep him from reproducing, we're not going to take her word.

Talented cat!

Gizmo flushes. OMG what are they going to do about this??

Researching rude gestures so you don't have to

You all read the story, filed under Local Oddities or some such ...

RIVERTON, Utah (AP) - A vent cover on the side of a house looks like it might be a rude hand gesture. Then again, it might be a cactus, abstract art-style. It depends if you're the owner or a neighbor.

I got to wondering: what does a "vent cover" that might be a cactus or might be a rude hand gesture really look like?

I googled the article. Strangely, the AP didn't include a photo of the vent cover in question. In fact, none of the news sites that ran the article included a photo.

Wait - is it coincidence, or is it a conspiracy?

Outrageous! Why can't I, the average reader, view this controversial vent cover and decide for myself? Why must I rely on the "liberal media" to do my deciding - and chortling - for me?

I had to know more. With no thought for my own safety, I dug a whole lot deeper. And blogfolk, I finally found a local TV station with guts enough to bring us the untold story. So without further ado, here are photos of the vent that started a media firestorm:

All right, all right

Little did you know, yesterday was actually National Wonder If You'll Ever Find The Right Job Day. Thanks for your comments. You are the best people.

Whew, what a barn-burner! I'm beat! Good thing that National W.I.Y.E.F.T.R.J. Day only comes once a year, am I right?