Too bad the sun isn’t out.

This cracks me up.

The end of March was my one-year review, and I met with my team leader. He gave me higher marks than I would’ve given myself, and while I was disappointed that the director of our department opted not to meet with me, I assumed that was her prerogative and put it out of mind.

So when I saw the notice in my Outlook this morning, that the director wanted to meet with me about my review, a full month after the fact, I thought my heart skipped a beat. I looked around my cube. I keep a Giant reusable bag under my file cart so that I can make quick trips to the grocery story a block away for Office food stuffs, but would all my personal belongings fit? 12-month calendar, Joe-the-Plumber signed poster from this, even though it’s coming down because of this, assorted doo-dads, boxes of Ritz snack packs and Easy Mac, framed final Calvin & Hobbes comic, Cookie Monster.

For four hours, I was pretty well convinced I was either going to get fired, or to be put on some sort of notice or work-probation. In person, she’s nice and jokes around a lot, but in e-mail, everything she writes comes across with this undercurrent of “YOU’RE IN SO MUCH DOG SHIT YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW.” I told her this once, and she was like, “Yeah, I can’t figure that out but apparently everyone thinks that.”

In any case, I did not get fired. I also didn’t get a raise — there’s a pay-raise freeze — but I’m okay with that, as I actually got one seven months ago, and was told then I wouldn’t get another for at least a year (we’ll see what happens in August). We actually spent about forty-minutes talking about, y’know, stuff: work, companies, the economy, our clients, and how to reconfigure the quarterly bonus plan to reward quality (and not quantity). Alas, there’s still a chance we won’t have a quarterly plan, as these actually are approved on a quarter-by-quarter basis.

In any case: hooray to being employed!

*UPDATE*

I went down to the cafe on the first floor, and the CEO was coming in. “Hey, you still working at the Bookstore?” I said yes, and asked him if he wanted me to pick up something for him. He said no, handed me a gift-card from the Bookstore, “Someone gave this to me and I’m never going to use it.” Awesome!

Edgar Mitchell — former astronaut — is front page news on CNN, asserting that “extraterrestrial life exists, and that the truth is being concealed by the U.S. and other governments.”

Right off the bat (since this is a UFO story):

1. I do believe there is extraterrestrial life.

2. I do not however (necessarily) believe that extraterrestrial life is in a routine habit of observing, visiting, or in any way giving a flying whozit about the planet Earth. I also do not (necessarily) believe that our government (or any other) is “guarding” the knowledge of their existence.

(I say “necessarily” because I do believe it is possibly in the realm of possibility, I would just need to be convinced.)

The Milky Way Galaxy — where our solar system is located — is estimated to contain two billion stars. That’s nine zeroes. 2,000,000,000. Our solar system has eight planets (sorry, Pluto). Assuming that eight is an average number, that means there are (give or take a few million), sixteen billion planets in this galaxy alone.

This is a photo of a galaxy cluster. See all those swirly things? Those are galaxies. Entire galaxies. I stopped counting at twenty. Assuming they’ve all got two billion stars and sixteen billion planets, well, shit, that’s a lot of fucking stars and planets.

As David Morse’s character said in Contact, “It’d be an awful waste of space if we’re alone out here.” (Paraphrased).

It’s kind of impossible, looking at that photo, to think only Earth developed sentient life. I mean, hell, we suspect there was simple life on Mars, and that’s our immediate neighbor. I think there are — or have been — civilizations considerably more advanced than ours. I don’t think it means that we’re being spied on or studied, and I don’t think it means that some sort of first contact will ever happen — it’s an awfully big universe, and with conventional technology, it would take one hundred and sixty-five thousand years to reach our nearest solar neighbor (Alpha Centauri).

May 8th: STAR TREK

I am trying not to get excited about this movie: actually, it’s pretty easy to accomplish that, seeing as how I always work — the time is just rushing past until the movie’s release date. Star Trek is hard to get: all the original series ever was, was a morality play set in space. Racism, bad. Cold war, bad. Misunderstanding other cultures, bad. There’s a tendency for people to think Trek is about space battles and sex with alien chicks, and I mean, obviously those are elements, (I’d like a good story, too), let me just express my hope that JJ Abrams gets what Trek is about. I’m telling myself the film is going to suck, but a lot of that is because after a string of disappointing movies last year — Dark Knight, Indiana Jones — I just don’t want to get myself too excited and walk away let down.

July 1st: PUBLIC ENEMIES

I’m not a particular fan of any of the actors in this movie, and I’m not even a big fan of gangster movies. All I can really say about this film is that the trailer hooked me, and I really would like to see this on the big screen.

July 15th:

I’ve actually been looking forward to the sixth Harry Potter film since last summer, but then Warner Brothers decided to postpone it for the bulk of the year. However, I will admit to some apprehension: the HP films are usually more miss than hit, with the exception of 2007′s Order of the Phoenix, which was excellent. The good news is that OotP’s director, David Yates, also helmed Half Blood Prince, and is set to direct the remaining two films*. However, the bad news is that OotP’s wins were as likely due to the excellent script adaptation, and Michael Goldberg was a one-hit wonder, replaced by Steve Kloves, who has written all of the other films (including a really awful adaptation of Goblet of Fire).

*Not a typo: Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows is being made into two films. It’s sort of like Kill Bill, without the Bill.

August 21st:

I am not a big fan of Quentin Tarantino. I know this is sacrilige to a lot of people, but his movies generally just don’t really hold my attention or interest. I think they’re stylish, I think they’re weird, I don’t think there’s a single Tarantino movie I would ever want to see again. So my utter fascination with Inglorious Basterds I can only assume has to be in the utter revelry that is seeing Nazis getting killed in all sorts of creative ways. I’ll totally see this in theaters (and maybe I won’t even berate myself for having spent money on it).

There are so many reasons that I’m glad I’m not delivering pizzas anymore, especially in this economic downturn. I mean, let’s be honest, ordering delivery is not cheap: a lot of times, you’ve got to meet a minimum order threshold. Then you’ve got to consider a delivery charge which may be tacked on, which is, by the way, not anywhere near the same thing as a tip, which of course, you need to add as well.

Couple that with the economy. Sure, a ten-dollar large pizza might be a great deal, but depending on how poor you are, that ten bucks might buy you enough noodles to last a week. And if you do spend that $10 on a pizza, are you going to be able to afford to tip the driver? Because, y’know, often times, that delivery charge goes to the shop, and tips make up the bulk of the driver’s earnings.

And then imagine you’re a Domino’s driver. I was, actually, for several year’s: the Franchise I mentioned remotely in my postings was a Domino’s franchise (now under new ownership) up in Phoenix, MD. So imagine you’re schleppin’ around with a stupid Domino’s sign on your car, and a Domino’s logo on your arm, and you’re scraping by as it is …

… and then a video shows up on YouTube depicting Domino’s employees doing assorted disgusting stuff to food.

I haven’t spoken to anyone that still works there about this, but I can just about bet you that sales at my old store dropped like a fuckin’ rock. Heck, I’d be willing to put money down that sales at all delivery restaurants took a hit. I don’t know what to be more surprised about: the fact that these two morons were stupid enough to post the video to the web (or to expect us to believe that they didn’t send out the food, yeah right), or the fact that people are shocked to see what happens to food they don’t prepare.

Obviously, a lot of what I’m talking about could be considered minor: no matter how many signs you have up saying “Wash Your Hands Before Making Food”, on a busy night, a driver comes running into the store from a run, and he’s jumping right onto the make-line or the boxing station, and if his hands get a courtesy swish in a sink, that’s incredible, and keep in mind: he’s been handling money. He’s been knocking on doors. He’s had dogs slobber his hands. His steering wheel and shift knob are dirty. And I guarantee you it’s not just the drivers.

Does the guy who takes your money then go over to the make-line? Does he wash his hands? Are employees in the food production area without hats or hairnets? What about the employee pulling the food out of the oven and boxing it? Is someone coming out of the back? Do you see them washing their hands? That guy on the back table chopping onions, do you know if he washed his hands?
Can you even see the prep area? Do you know if it’s been cleaned and sanitized?

There is, to my mind, a big difference between any of those scenarios and doing what this pair of morons did. I think Domino’s Pizza is right to pursue civil and criminal action against them, although one wonders what civil penalties they expect to reap: do they look like they can afford to pay a multi-million dollar verdict?

At the same time, people, be wary of what you eat: if you didn’t prepare it yourself, you don’t know if it’s safe or not. You really, really, don’t.

This is also a good reason to be polite when you’re making a phone order, and to tip well: trust me, everyone who has worked in a pizza shop for a significant amount of time know the problem customers, and know the stiffing customer. My old routing policy was this: people who tipped well got their food as quickly — and as hot! — as possible. Non tippers? I couldn’t care less if their food was hot, luke warm, or ice cold.

It was cold and rainy Monday night.

As good as dinner was, it couldn’t hold a candle to the company.

I’ve been intending to walk a lot more, after this post. It’s hard to get to the gym, far easier to walk the two miles home after working at the Bookstore. Nice steady incline the whole way, legs burn, feet ache. But Monday, it was cold and rainy, and I opted to cheat, ride the L2 home, after dinner.

I made up for it tonight — my feet were already aching by the time I got to the Bookstore. By the time we closed and headed out the door, my feet were in pain. But all night, to myself: “I am walking home. I am walking home.” Over, over, over again.

I could have walked south to the bus-stop. West, even. Heck, I passed two stops on Dupont Circle.

I passed them all.

Up that steep incline that is Connecticut Avenue. Ow. And ow. And, uh, ow. Ow ow ow.

But it was nice to make up for Monday night. And tomorrow night? Walking home.

Texas wants to secede.

You would think, if they were so gung-ho about Presidents “thumbing their nose at the American people”, they would’ve been talking about secession for at least a couple of the last eight years.

But, seriously, secession? So much for this “Don’t mess with Texas!” crap they’re always spewing. Now, apparently, if you “Mess with Texas”, they’ll get huffy and puffy and take their state and go away!

Well, I mean, unless it’s a pedestrian: those guys they’ll take on mano-y-mano!

I can remember the last major snowstorm we got in the Baltimore area — it was in 2003, and we got several feet in March. I was snowed in to my apartment for three days until I was able to dig my Jeep out. Part of the reason it took me so long to dig my Jeep out was that I had enough food in the fridge that I wouldn’t starve, but that also, I was often helping my neighbors dig out their vehicles.

I spent a few hours one afternoon helping to dig out the car of an elderly man who lived in the next building. After, he invited me and a woman who’d helped him into his apartment for liquor. I’m not a big fan of liquor, and I don’t quite know how I forced that drink down, but so I did.

In any case, the next morning, his car was covered in snow. The parking spaces that several others had dug out were snowed back in. Our dumpster and walk to our building was also covered in snow. One of the guys who lived in another building had a snow plow hooked to his truck, and so he’d come by one afternoon, thrown the chairs out of the cleared parking spaces*, and plowed them out for him and his buddies. He showed no regard for the walkway, no regard for his neighbors.

What a fucking douchebag.

Fortunately, the back of his truck was filled with salt bags and shovels. I took one of his shovels to dig out my apartment’s walkway, and kept it, in fact, until I moved to DC last summer. That night, when the air was cold and freezing, I brought several pitchers of cold water out to pour on this guy’s pickup truck (and quite a bit of the snow I shoveled I shoveled right into the back of his truck).

So, when I logged into FailBlog this morning for my daily dose of le funny, I choked on my marshmellow filled hot chocolate. Seriously, FailBlog, this is most certainly a fucking win:

Sorry Failblog, but this is without doubt WIN.

Figures the one Tuesday I’m off from the Bookstore, this happens right around the corner: (more…)

In November 2007, a week after Thanksgiving, a deer caught my eye as it bolted across the road. I slammed on the brakes, which, in retrospect, didn’t make much difference: the deer made it across the road, but the second one hit me, hard, and my car, a 2000 Celica, was totaled. Three weeks later, I bought a brand new Toyota Matrix.

Seven months after that, I moved to the District of Columbia and sold the car — and it was a great car! — to my Dad. Since then, I’ve driven only a handful of times. I don’t miss driving. If I didn’t get enough driving while I was delivering pizzas for way-more-years than I should have, I certainly got enough of it in the ten weeks I was commuting from Timonium to Bethesda. At best, I could be from home to office in a little over an hour. I think my worst travel time ever clocked in at about three hours.

I mention this because of an article on WTOP.com this morning: (more…)

I’m usually not a fan of memes, especially when it comes to answering them. So you can imagine my surprise that I’m writing one. I usually get tagged with assorted-book type memes, so I think I may have inadvertently stolen or closely copied some of these questions from those. In any case:

How many books do you own, and what authors are most strongly represented?

Since I have absolutely no intention of counting all of my books, I’m going to estimate that I have about three to four hundred books. Without a doubt, Stephen King and Patrick O’Brien are the authors most frequently represented on my bookshelves.

What’s your favorite book?

Lot of contenders, but I think I’d have to go with Catch-22, which I was reading on September 11th, 2001. Such a dark, horrible day, but I could escape into Heller’s masterpiece (and his only book worth any salt) and be unable to keep the laughter down. No, seriously, I was pissing people off in the Student Union because I couldn’t keep myself quiet.

How much do you love books?

I would love a personal library, except, that if I had a library, I would feel compelled to keep all of my books in it. And if I did that, the rest of my place would feel cold and lonely, because a room without books is a very sad room indeed. (I even have a couple of books in my closet!)

What book do you own the most copies of?

Surprisingly, Harry Potter & The Prisoner of Azkaban — I have three copies, one hardback, two softcover. There are lots of books I own duplicates of, usually because someone will give me a copy of something I already own (that’s how come I have two copies of The Kite Runner). Other books I own multiple copies of: Last Lion Volume II by William Manchester, Zodiac by Neal Stephenson, and Chris Buckley’s Supreme Courtship (both ARCs).

How do you organize your books?

Well, I put them on shelves. Some may be stacked on the floor. However, I’ve never been very good at sorting by genre or subject matter or, for that matter, the alphabet. I try to keep an author’s works together, but truthfully, I’m not particularly good, or stringent about it. I mean, it’s weird, because I’m pretty anal about keeping my DVDs sorted properly, but, I mean, hell, one bookshelf has a giant Chaucer textbook, a Harry Potter, a cheap sci-fi, novels by Stephen Amidon, Stephen fry, Margaret Atwood, a Tim O’Brien, two by Kate Atkinson, and a book on libertarianism. Could you get more random? Well, yes, of course you could.

How many bookshelves do you own?

Nine, including two wall-hanging units. Admittedly, two of them — an IKEA Artist unit, and a 2×4 IKEA Expedit, are used for media storage. DVD shelves? Well, seven, then. Actually, I have another in my closet that I use for storage needs. So I think I need to answer “ten.” And I gave two others away when I moved.

Bathroom reading?

You know it! Sometimes you know a bowel movement is in the process, so you’re set up and waiting, and, damn, a book is far more interesting than staring at the off-white wall (and yes, I do keep books in my bathroom — stacked on the litter box, interestingly enough). However, when it’s actually in the process? Sorry, the book’s got to go down — otherwise, it’s sort of like pooping with the bathroom door and the apartment door wide open, and I like doing my business in private (my cats don’t — they always want to know just what the fuck I’m doing in there with the door closed, I think the assorted grunts and groans intrigue them).

Who is the most overrated author of all time?

Oh, there are a lot, but I think James Patterson has to top my list. I get nearly sick to my stomach when someone tells me he’s their favorite author (moreso when they describe him with any flattering words, especially ‘brilliant’), because, y’know what? He writes fifty pages, his editors enlarge the font, triple space, and pack it into 300 pages. I bet I could read one of his books twice over on the Red Line from Shady Grove to Glenmont.

So, here comes the anarchist aspect of this meme. I’m not tagging anyone — although I do have people in mind — so complete this meme, or not, based on whether you want to or not. Also, if you don’t like the questions, fuck it, make up your own. Link back to me, or not. It’s all your choice. (That’s why it’s an anarchist meme).

So I just went down to pull my clothes out of the dryers in the laundry room, in the basement. As I began pulling clothes out of the left-most machine, I noticed what appeared to be a milk cap. And then I noticed a milk carton.

Thankfully, it had already been cleaned. Unfortunately, whatever asshat fuck decided to throw their milk carton in the machine declined to restart the dry-cycle, so my clothes were damp, and now I have to dry them again.

I really should just take a book with me and camp out the room from now on.

From CNN:

The image, taken by NASA’s space-based Chandra Observatory telescope, shows an X-ray nebula 150 light years across.

It shows what appear to be ghostly blue fingers — thumb and pinky clearly discernible from index, ring and middle digits — reaching into a sparkling cloud of fiery red.

NASA says the display is caused by a young and powerful pulsar, known by the rather prosaic name of PSR B1509-58.

I prefer Star Trek’s explanation of mysterious giant hands in space: