carnage near the crockpot

proof you can take the kitten out of the wild, but not the wild out of the kitten: while tossing the ingredients into the crockpot for the jalapeño popper taquitos i'm making, i pulled a few fatty parts off the chicken breasts and set them aside temporarily so i could salvage the meaty morsels and add them to the pot.
faster than you can say, "holy salmonella, batman!", a certain little furball took off across two rooms and three horizontal surfaces, hunk of fatty chicken as big as her little noggin hanging out of her mouth and dragging across said surfaces.

the sounds i heard while securing the rest of the chicken were reminiscent of some sort of thriller where an alien is feasting on some poor schlub's innards.

when i die, i sincerely hope it's not at home alone with these cats. jagger will probably allow me some dignity, but i'm afraid that if i'm not found quickly, the girls might chew my face off. 

flattery and a battery

as i get ready to take zamboni to the sears auto center for a new belt (he occasionally sounds like a screaming banshee when i start him and/or his air conditioner), i am reminded that i totally forgot to tell you what happened when i went to get his battery checked out/replaced.
i won't go into every little detail, but while i was chatting with the very personable auto zone employee, apparently lack of awareness of the placement of my shirt hemline vis a vis the waistband of my jeans led to a couple of other patrons getting clear confirmation of the fact that i was wearing underwear. (i'm not sure why this was a big deal- maybe because i'm not a "grandma panty" kind of girl?)

anyway, the second time this happened, our conversation paused, as he told me, "you must be giving one heck of a view back there."

when i passed it off as no big deal ("well, guess they know i wear underwear."), the tone of the conversation changed slightly. (was the proper response to have been horrified? i'm afraid that's just not my style.)

he behaved pretty well, though there were several suggestive hints/compliments regarding my physique. (this, despite the fact that i didn't make it to crossfit yesterday!)

i thanked him for the compliments.

when we were talking about the recent rollerblading incident and how i was still treating some torn up skin, he asked if i needed help applying some salve.

yeah, that's when it felt right to haul out something i don't have to use very often.

i told him i had that situation under control, followed by:

"i'm flattered, but not interested, and my boyfriend will appreciate verification of his good taste."

habla espanol? guess not

this is my first time traveling solo somewhere where i don't know the main language. (most people are bilingual, but i'd say spanish is definitely numero uno.)

to say my knowledge of spanish is minimal is probably not lying, exaggerating, or otherwise telling an untruth.

still, i thought i'd try to use what little i knew.

i've not been able to work my vast knowledge of colors and numbers (up to twenty though, if i really thought about it, i might be able to find my way to 100) into a conversation yet, but i was pretty sure i knew how to ask the driver of the taxi from the airport how much i owed him.

when i got a blank look in response, i figured he might be hard of hearing, so i asked louder.
still, a blank look.

i called mama (who teaches high school spanish) later to make sure i'd used the proper term.

(i mean, i knew i had not propositioned the guy accidentally, but why the blank look? had i confused "how many?" and "how much?" and stunned him with my ignorance?)

""cuanto" is "how many?" and "combien" is "how much does it cost?," right?"

"uh, honey?" she replied, "i'm pretty sure "combien" is french."

well, guano.

you may want to hold your nose for this...

great news:

i have located the source of the awful stench in the fridge at work.

even better:

it did not require me to open the mysterious styrofoam box that's been in there for at least the last month and may or may not contain an internal organ of some sort.

the not-so-good part:

you know how some things cannot be unseen? well, 15 minutes after my unpleasant little discovery, i am convinced that certain things (for example, something from starbucks that probably once involved a venti frappe con leche or whatever the heck it's called when a bunch of dairy that was probably smooth and creamy at the time (but, unfortunately, an unknown number of days later, has turned into something with a texture reminiscent of the back of my upper thighs) is squirted into a (most likely) caffeinated beverage, which is sipped and then left in the fridge for later enjoyment...and then completely forgotten about) cannot be unsmelled.
you know, i've never actually wished my nose could be completely stuffed up before.....
on the plus side:

at least it went (mostly) down the sink drain without a fight. i mean, i had to run a bunch of water after it, but at least i didn't have to beat it down with the wooden spoon i was holding.*
*just in case. i mean, it's not like i walk around with one in my pocket or anything. i'm just happy to see you.

working it out

dear "personal trainer" i've run into three times in the past week,

when i first saw your business cards spread around our "state of the art fitness center" (weight machine, treadmill, elliptical, stationary bike and a bizarre device that appears to be some strange hybrid between one of those round discs used for sledding and something i'm pretty sure my doctor had me lay upon during my last gynecological exam) a couple of months ago, featuring a photo of you standing in said "fitness center", complete with the apartment complex's pool in the background, i thought to myself, "what nerve!"

now, i see your brilliance.

this afternoon, as i ran/walked/ellipticized* for 2 1/2 miles, I noticed for the second time in the past week that you were "training" not one, but two, "clients".

well at least i think they were both clients. i mean, the guy was working his tail off. he'd already broken a sweat by the time i walked in.

the girl who came in about halfway through my workout, however....wow.

i mean, given that most of the effort she expended during her five minutes on the elliptical machine seemed to be devoted to poking at her smartphone instead of, oh, i don't know- actually breaking a sweat......is she actually paying for the privilege of playing "helpless lump", whining when you tell her to do burpees*, and "ooh"ing and "aah"ing over your abs while declaring that she wants some "just like them"?

if so, then not only do i applaud your resourcefulness (why go to the trouble of working through a "real" gym to train people) and your ability to multitask (two clients at once!), but also your brilliance in figuring out a way to not only work the available dating pool, but to get paid while doing so.

sincerely,

the blonde (well, technically, it's a rapidly fading blend of "electric lava" and "strawberry fields" at the moment) trying to cut down on the junk in her trunk

*not that i'm a fan of burpees either, mind you, but i'm not paying someone to decide whether or not i'm going to suffer through them.

if at first you don't succeed....

occasionally, i'll post my most interesting/ridiculous call of the evening.

i really thought my winner this morning would be the woman who thought her water line was broken because she only has cold water coming out of her faucet.*

oh, was i wrong.

we have an account where we handle media clearance calls for an airport system halfway across the country. apparently, they're doing construction at one of the airports, and every tv station in town wants to jump in and cover the story.

one particular station has called me not once, not twice, but thrice.**

call #1: asking for clearance. i gave them the lower level only, to keep them out of the way of construction upstairs.

call #2: cameraman has gotten their van stuck on the lower level. might i be able to hail security to help them back out?

(when i called my contact at the airport, she guessed which station was having the issue- mostly because they'd done the exact same thing a couple of years ago, taking out an antenna and an overhang in the process. needless to say, someone from security was dispatched immediately to provide aid.)

call #3: crew is now upstairs. since work will not begin upstairs until this afternoon, could i give them clearance. (i tried patiently explaining, as kindly as possible, that they were not cleared to be up there, but they were persistent. i called my contact for the account, apologized for the wake-up call, and explained the problem to him.

my instincts were right. logic prevailed.

more importantly, since my caller refused to accept my denial, the account contact was willing to have a chat with the caller, adding the weight of their authority to my words.

*i suggested that her hot water heater might be the more likely culprit.

**every time i use the word "thrice" i want to add something about "chicken soup and rice". i think maybe i read that book a couple times too many during my formative years,

10-4, good buddy

i can't remember whether i told you or not, but one of my jobs is at an answering service. we answer for a wide variety of businesses. while most of the calls i get during third shift are medical in nature, i also have the ability to get you legal help, mental health assistance, hibachi reservations in three states, someone to take care of just about any water/sewage/heating/air problem you might have and much, much more. 

we also have a few accounts that are fire/safety related. i had an unusual call from one such account last night and, since i'm having kind of a rough evening at work tonight, i figured i'd share it with you.

now, most of the calls on this particular account are from officers who are either letting us know they are 10-41 (beginning their shift) or 10-42 (ending their shift). we simply take down the information and add the message to the queue to be sent to the office in the morning. per the instructions from the office,. all other calls are to be connected or relayed to the supervisor on call.

last night, an officer called in and stated that he was 10-38. i had no idea what this was, so i asked him.

the reply?

"i have to poop."

i don't think i have ever had a grown man utter that phrase to me before, and i can't say i was feeling a huge void in my soul because of it, either. 

he explained that there weren't any appropriate facilities where he was, and he figured he'd be gone for about 20 minutes or so and would call me back upon his return.

rather than make him wait while i dialed the supervisor, i wished him luck and hung up so as not to delay him any further.

the supervisor and i have a good rapport, and when i called him i apologized for bothering him and told him i'd gotten an unusual call and had to pass it along since it was not one of the usual 10-41/10-42 calls.

given the delicate nature of the situation, i simply told him that his officer had called in a 10-38.

"what the heck is a 10-38?"

well, since he asked......

"he has to...how to put this?....take a meeting in his private office."

there was a pause, and then, "oooohhhhhh. tmi."

"well, sir, it's less info than i got."

i told him about the 20-minute ETA and asked if it would be okay if, rather than notifying him of the officer's return, i simply called him if i hadn't heard back from the guy within, say, half an hour, so he could send a search and rescue party. he agreed that that sounded fine.

later, i was telling mama my story and, since she was the third person who'd never heard of a 10-38, she decided to do some research, as surely it did not directly translate to "has to poop".

apparently, some of these codes vary by region. the first translation she found was "stopped suspicious vehicle". this was topped by the charleston, sc translation (and my particular favorite)- "need jaws of life".* there was also a related code, though the exact number escapes me (10-39, maybe?)- "call the coroner".

finally, when i told her where the business was based, she looked up the codes for that city and found that 10-38 is code for "bathroom break". given that the supervisor had no idea what it was, i'm guessing either it's not one of the more commonly used ones, or else maybe he started his career in charleston and was trying to figure out just what had gone down, thinking maybe the officer had gotten his codes mixed up.

*if your situation's that bad, perhaps adding more fiber to your diet will help.

dear software installation/tech support guru,

i know you're frustrated. no little bird was needed for this newsflash- it was evident by your third sigh. 

let me point out once again something that may not be obvious, though i already mentioned it somewhere between sighs five and six:

i do not work for a major corporation here.* there are a total of three employees in this company. we do not take up an entire floor of a major high rise. we do not have a dozen "workstations" from which to choose. i have a laptop at my disposal for sending out claims, and a desktop computer running windows 98 for word processing. that is it. 

the reason this software installation is taking so long is not my "slow internet connection". (believe me, time warner charges me a pretty penny for what i've got. granted, it's not at the warp speed necessary to play "world of warcraft" or "diablo 57" or whatever, but the day i'm found playing either of those should be no more than a week before some sort of mental health assessment.) the more likely reason for this sluggish installation is the computer itself. it was not new when i obtained it over six years ago. it does not get tons of heavy use. it is turned on an average of once a week, and i set it to "hibernate" in between. 

you already know that last part, though. i mentioned it when you asked when it was last rebooted. (you know, right before your mini-lecture/admonishment regarding the necessity of rebooting "at least twice a week", delivered in the sort of tone normally reserved for a two year old who has smeared a handful of poop on the bathroom wall.)

hopefully, during this half hour break (during which i have rebooted (after you froze the computer up completely), and reinstalled chrome so you wouldn't have to lower yourself to suffering through internet explorer again), you've had adequate time to cool off, maybe grab a bagel from the cafeteria, and collect your thoughts so maybe you won't act like i am a total idiot** during the second portion of our conversation. 

sincerely,
neither techie nor total luddite

*that's a different job completely.
**i'm not one, nor have i ever been one, according to tests ranging from childhood to the internet quiz i took last week.