| Sleep, goooood |
[Jul. 28th, 2004|09:32 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  refreshed | ] |
I'd figured I'd post this lil nothing about my morning since a friend of mine has threatened to flog me, or at least attempt to stone me to death with jelly beans, for not posting anything new.
So, I woke up sunday, all was well, tried to sleep Sunday night, ahem, Monday morning, finally did at about 5am. Wake up at 8am to go to work. Monday night, I go to sleep at about 8:15pm, only to wake up at 10:30pm. I'm up for a few hours, until about midnight, and then try to sleep again. That didn't work, I ended up watching X-Files on TNT until 4am. So at this point I had to get ready to go on travel, the car service picking me up at 4:30am. So i got ready in that half hour, and now I'm in a car to the airport. Get on the plane, it leaves about 6:45am. Can't say i got much sleep on the plane, although I tried. So at this point, I land in chicago, it's 7:30am CT and I got me a full day of work ahead of me, and I have.... oooh... a lil less than 6 hours of sleep since sunday.
I know this isn't enough, because my jelly bean stoning friend told me I was grumpy because i had no sleep. ;-) And here i thought people were just being more annoying than usual this day. (Sorry to those I've crossed this day due to my lack of slumber)
So, I'm in a hotel for the night. I figure i should try to get a good amount of sleep this night, so I figure, I'll get up at 7:30, so I can be out the door and on my way to breakfast, and work, by 8. So, I play on my computer for a bit until about 11:15ish then shoot for bed (with X-Files on TV of course, TNT, new favorite channel). So during a commercial I try to set the alarm clock.
Now, I'm a high-tech boy that has more gadgets than I know what to do with, and if it's not high tech, then it's not cool enough for me to use.
So this alarm clock looks like it's somewhere from the era of 1962. I had this strong suspicion, that if I turned it over, I might find directions to a fall out shelter or something. So usually an alarm clock has at least the 4 "standard" buttons, hour, minute, time, alarm. So you use to hour and minute keys to set the time of either the alarm (by holding down the alarm button) or the clock (by holding down the time button). This puppy didn't have time or alarm. It did however have Sleep and Wake. I figured it was the wake button, since i'd set when i wanted to wake up, and that turned out to be right on. But I was curious as to what the "sleep" button did, (oh, for the record, there was a snooze button too, so i knew it wasn't snooze) aparently the sleep button turns the Radio on, nice and loud. Which i'm not sure what that has to do with sleep, but well, there it was, playin some music so loud it distorted the speaker and I couldn't even tell what it was. And aparently there's no way to turn this music off, except to hit the wake button. Needless to say, this made little sense to me, but fuck it, I was tired.
Just to give myself a bit of credit, I spent all of about 50 seconds on the alarm clock, so it's not that hard to figure out, but I figured I'd explain the thought process.
Since this thing didn't act what I considered to be a normal way, I wasn't really sure it was going to set the alarm off in the morning, but I can't say I cared much at that point, my flight wasn't until 6:45pm, and I'm sure i'd wake up before then. Or more likely to the sound of my cell phone ringing, so once again, fuck it, i was tired.
Well, for those who worried, don't bother. Not only did that thing sound, but it did with one of the most retched sounds I've heard in all eternity. Kinda made me wish I looked at the directions to the bomb shelter since I felt this need to run there. I went about smacking buttons on the top of this thing until it turned off, apparently hitting the snooze.
So i figured, snooze?, ok, i'll just take a quick nap for a few minutes (if it was like a normal alarm clock, I'd expect 9 minutes of snooze, Don't know why, but i'd say 75% of the clocks i've seen have a snooze for 9 minutes, but this is no normal alarm clock so I didn't really expect 9). It wasn't 9, it was more like 5, and I figured this is not worth tryin to nap, so I spent more time and turned the alarm off this time. Then I manually snoozed for about 10 more minutes, finally getting up at 7:45.
Except for the rudeness of my awaking, It was a damn good sleep, I was out like a light. Although I find that happens more in a King size bed. I gots to get me one of those for home. Screw the full i have, I need me a King.
I here by propose that all alarm clocks be banished, and people have other people wake them up, preferably with a nice massage. (and of course the other people being a really nice looking member of the opposite sex, or, to be PC, whatever sex you would like) |
|
|
| New Word: Catopus |
[Jan. 6th, 2003|12:42 am] |
Catopus - (How to pronouce: Think of a merger of Cactus and Octopus)
Meaning: a furry 8 legged cat (Not intentionally ment this way, but later decided to be the best definition)
Origin:
Well, this word actually presented itself as a mispronunciation of the word cactus. My brain for some reason decided to add an extra sylabol to the word. |
|
|
| New Word: Discardation |
[Jan. 6th, 2003|12:41 am] |
This word was created sometime in 1997 I'm guessing. I was working as a supervisor at a supermarket, there were 2 of us. We were short cashiers, so a fellow supervisor was working as a cashier. Well, the supervisor that was the cashier, we'll call her R. R had a bad habit of disappearing to go do, well whatever. Me and the other supervisor, we'll call her L, were getting a tad annoyed. R had used excuses such as her throught was parched, and the bathroom. So, L and I decided that we should have some fun too, so we decided to write her up (disciplinary write up that is). The first time we wrote her up for wondering off, and sorting aisles that didn't need to be sorted. R promptly through it out and sort of laughed. She continued her activities, so L and I wrote her up again, this time for constant parching. Again, that notice was thrown away. At which point it was decided that our write ups were not being taken seriously, so we wrote up R for "Dicardation of Previous Notices".
And there the word was born. Discardation. For discarding all the previous write ups. |
|
|
| Perfection, HA! |
[Dec. 5th, 2002|12:36 am] |
|
Everyone is perfect when viewed through the right lens. Unfortunatly very few have the lense you need to look that way. |
|
|
| Short woman, and why they are not to be trifled with |
[Nov. 18th, 2002|12:38 am] |
This thought started as an Instant Message, explaining the capabilities of short women.
I write:
Short women can get away with murder if they really want to
They Wrote:
why short women though?
I wrote:
Because they appear to be helpless and innocent... and not widely suspected of how they truly are... all powerful and covertly ruling the world
i know what short women do, you rule the world by manipulating men with your requests, and by seeming all helpless and innocent, your requests are fulfilled without question
i know, i now know too much, I've exposed the master plan and need to be killed to maintain your control over the world.. but let's face it, would anyone believe the truth anyway?... nope.. .men like to think they're in charge and will deny the fact that they aren't already, so you're safe, no need to eliminate me... please ;-) |
|
|
| Attack of the Killer Strawberry Ginger Ale Slurpee |
[Aug. 1st, 1999|12:18 am] |
Here are a few notes for those want to hear this story. I call it "Attack of the Killer Strawberry Ginger Ale Slurpee".. for the record, I originally wrote this story about August of 1999, years ago when I started a new job... and in the first sentence is used the term MMFIC.. (that means Male Mother Fucker In Charge, inside joke for the original recipients of this message). For some odd reason I decided to write it in third person, but this is how the story goes :
*****************************************
One morning, well afternoon actually, but morning by most people who will be reading this' standards, in Midland Park New Jersey the MMFIC, AKA Steven, had a thought. This thought accrued cause Steve had just driven from his home in East Brunswick to his new job in Midland Park.
This drive was about 55 miles, took Steve about an hour to drive it this day. Although the drive only takes an hour on average, Steve, being the damn good lad that he is, left his house an hour and a half before he had to be at work. He thinks that he should give himself that extra half hour in case he hits traffic or some other event that will delay his arrival at his new job. And being that the drive is 55 miles long, and in New Jersey, chances of that happening are pretty high. So, Steve sits in his car, in the parking lot of his new job, looking at his watch.
Noting that he has half an hour before he has to be at work, he thinks of what he can do to pass the time. There was an A&P he could wonder around for a while pretending he's going to buy something, that's a grocery store for those who don't know. Another thought was the 7-11 he passed about a half-mile back. Steve decides he wants a Slurpee before work, "To 7-11" he shouts and with that puts the car in drive and well, drives. To the 7-11 no less.
He gets there with no trouble, with his vehicle or himself, and parks the car. In a spot outlined with yellow paint, marked 7-11 and opposite a handicap spot outlined in blue paint and marked with that wheelchair guy looking thing. He then cuts the ignition, or turns the car off, I knowing now that one of the readers of this story will ask with what he cut the ignition.
Steve gets out, the drivers side door or his 1994 Oldsmobile Cutlass Ceirra, actually it's not his, but his parents, but he traded them his car for theirs, not legally, but he did, well, non-legally, but yet not illegally.
Noting that the so called welcome mat in front of the doors to the 7-11 is in fact a cardboard box just flattened and thrown on the ground Steve then enters the 7-11. He looks around, first noticing that the clerk is in fact Indian, which translates to good Slurpee, looks strait, noting nothing special is in front of him, then turns left. As he turns left he sees a marvel of modern technology, a chrome plated contraption with little windows displaying colored fluids being turned around by little paddles of some sort. Across the front of this piece of what must be something NASA acquired from aliens due to its superiorly intelligent concept (partially frozen flavored water) is the word "SLURPEE."
At this time Steve realizes that he has found what he came for. He decides to take a detour down the candy aisle to pick out what he would like to accompany his Slurpee, a chaser of sorts. After looking at the meager selection of items tagged with outrageous prices he opts for a product known as Spree. Not only due to the fact that with just slight alterations of the word Spree will give you the word Slurpee, but he also likes Spree. Steve does not pick up a role of the mentioned candy, but instead decides to retrieve the main objective of this mission first, the Slurpee. So he strolls over to the Slurpee Machine (read above, again, if you need more details) and notes what flavor options he has. From right to left:
Left: Strawberry Ginger Ale
Left Center: Something with pineapple, it was yellow, which automatically disqualified it as an option
Right Center: Coke (standard Slurpee flavor)
Right: Cherry
Steve thought about which one would be best suited for him. Here was the main rational:
1. Yellow stuff, yuck, NO.
2. Coke, who gets coke anyway, that flavor has to suck, NO
3. Strawberry Ginger Ale, hmm, never had it before, mite be good, can't be sure, maybe status
4. Cherry, had it before, it's good, but red, hmm maybe status
5. If I get cherry, it's really red, my mouth will be all red, my lips will be all red and it will look like I put lipstick on, Strawberry Ginger Ale is red to, less red though, Cherry, NO
6. By process of elimination Strawberry Ginger Ale has been selected as the flavor of choice
Steve then, having chosen a flavor, had to choose a size, noting that between the largest and smallest size there was a whopping 20 cents difference, and since Steve didn't know how much he could finish in the amount of time remaining he chose the large, of course.
Mentioning time, Steve now checks his watch, 1:38pm Eastern Standard Time (I apologize for not having the exact time to the second for this series of events was not note worthy until the following events happened, so I didn't know to note the time). Steve has to be at work at 2:00 PM EST.
He then decides to get his cup; he looks around the Slurpee Machine because in most 7-11's that Steve has visited the cup dispensers are attached to one side or the other, at this particular 7-11, they are not. First a bit of panic, but he quickly notices they are under a clear counter of sorts, pointing strait out, down low so short people can find them (no offense to the short people that will read this, AKA beat me later).
Steve gets the big cup, a purple cup with the bright green words "SLURPEE" marked all over it's being. He then finds the cap for said cup. And it is at this point that Steve puts the cap on to the cup.
For all Slurpee professionals know that the cap must be put on the cup first so you can actually fill the cup past it's capacity and continue to add Slurpee until it fills the cap as well, getting the most Slurpee for you buck, or 99 cents plus tax according to the sign at this 7-11.
Having prepared his Slurpee container he approaches the Slurpee Machine. He places the hole in the top of the cup directly below the nozzle that will dispense the life giving fluid we call Slurpee into his cup. The Strawberry Ginger Ale flavor to be exact, it was the one of the left for those who are skimming and didn't really read that above.
Steve now with the Slurpee portable containment pod is it's appropriate receiving position Steve puts his right hand on the lever to begin the flow of Slurpee. Steve now ready to turn the lever, he begins moving it from its natural right position farther to the left. It gets about of quarter of the way around and Slurpee beginning to flow. Looking at the liquid soon to be ingested by Steve, his mouth begins to water imagining drinking the Slurpee, at which point the flow stops. The mouth watering promptly stops, and that bit of panic returns.
Since no flow is now in effect the choice is made to turn the lever farther from it's home right position. He begins to push it again it gets about half way across and stops. There is still no flow. More, the lever needs to be moved more he thinks. But it's stuck, it seems to have been halted by something. So Steve gives it a little more force, whatever barrier was holding the lever back was overcome. That and anything else holding back the lever, the lever soon jumps all the way to the left, MAX FLOW.
The flow of Slurpee now returns, but in full force. It rushes in to the cup with such force that it's loosened from Steve's grip. It falls out of his hand to the little gate/catcher/drain thing below.
So now the hole in the cap is not properly aligned with the nozzle. There's also about a 1-inch gap between the two. In this split second the flow of Slurpee is now not hitting it's target of the hole in the cap, but hitting the cap itself. And for anyone who doesn't know what happens when a flow of Slurpee hits a semi-spherical shape of a Slurpee Cap, take a spoon and put it upside down under the sink, see how the water shoots off in all directions of the spoon. That's what happens. So the flow of Slurpee hits the cap, and proceeds to disperse itself in all directions, at high velocity I might add. After about a half second of this, Steve's instinct have detected that the Slurpee fluid has hit his hand and he promptly lets go of the Slurpee flow control lever.
The flow stops, Steve looks at the scene. Slurpee fluid not only covers ever his hands and his arms, but in a diagonal line from his right pants pocket up to about 3 inches to the left and above where his belly button is, well that and anything else within about a 30 inch radius of the Slurpee machine's nozzle for dispensing "Strawberry Ginger Ale Slurpee.²
At this point, instead of Steve looking at the red fluid covering most of the front of his body and yelling "I'VE BEEN HIT!!!", Steve says in a slighted raised tone 'FUCK!'. He them notes orally as well as mentally that his current situation sucks. After noting that it sucks about 4 more times in 10 seconds the thought finally hits him that napkins are in order.
He examines the counter where he found the cup, which now looks like a crime seen having a red substance scattered about it's top. No napkins are to be seen, with his arms raised slightly raised as to not squish the fluids into his clothes anymore he looks around again, noting once again, that this situation sucks.
At this point he's getting quite agitated, there are supposed to be napkins by the Slurpee machine, followed with "damn it" is what he thought. He wonders about the store for about 5 feet before seeing the coffee cups and pot, examining further he see napkins. He quickly moves into position to extract a handful of the napkins, nicely printed with the 7-11 logo, from their container. He gets the quantity he desired.
He begins to wipe off his arms and hands then proceeds to wipe off his shirt. He gets the solid, more like foam, portion of the Slurpee off his shirt with the napkin but the liquid is already soaked in. Steve was wearing a solid gray T-shirt with the word "Wilson" in black across the chest. It now had bright pink spots marking its surface for all to see.
As Steve continued to wipe his battle wounds clean he was kind enough to advice fellow patrons that had entered since the incident that they should not use the one on the left. Being cleaned up as good as possible Steve returned to the Slurpee machine.
He decided against trying that again, so he threw the cup in the garbage, which apparently is the one thing conveniently located near the Slurpee machine. He now thought, well, "this sucks," then he thought, "now I have to go to work like this, with pink shit all over me."
Knowing that he has less than a half hour left and he's an hour from home. Steve had no change of clothes in the car. So he now thinks "Well, if I go to work and tell them this story, they will wonder if I got the Slurpee or not" and "I'm at 7-11, I have to get a Slurpee." He decides to opt for the Cherry this time even though it's really red.
So he prepares the portable Slurpee containment pod same as before (see above for details). He then positions it under the far right nozzle, and begins to move the lever.
This Slurpee dispensing commences without any further incident. Steve is pleased. He decides it's time to go, noting the time is 1:42 and 18 seconds PM EST.
So Steve, with Slurpee in hand, goes to the candy aisle to pick up his Spree, which he does without further incident. He proceeds to the front counter placing the Slurpee and Spree on the counter he gets his wallet and takes out 2 dollars, singles, United States Currency, not new though, and pays the bill that comes to $1.68.
Steve receives his change in his hand, picks up his Slurpee and Spree, thinks once again "my shirt is pink, this sucks" and leaves the 7-11 though the same door through which he entered. Which would be the one on the left from outside but the one on the right from the inside.
Steve walks to his car. Thinking for some odd reason he might have a shirt in his car, Steve searches. The trunk first, he finds 2 towels, 1 fire extinguisher, 1 white 14 gallon garbage bag-empty, 1 set of jumper cables, 1 box of Puffs tissues-200 count but open so not 200 in the box, a cup holder thing, and 1 can or florescent Orange Spray paint-almost full. Needless to say, no shirt, he then searches the car, back seat, under the seats, front seat, still no shirt.
"This Sucks," Steve thinks once again, "damn it, this sucks," his thoughts repeat. Steve gets in his car, pockets the Spree and sips the Slurpee. He then drives the half-mile back to his place of employment, parks the car and notes the time 1:48:14pm EST.
For the next 10 minutes, and 17 seconds, Steve sits in his car pondering things like why the sky is blue, why the word flare sounds so weird when you say it a lot of times really fast, who framed Roger Rabbit, but mostly, was the Slurpee worth it. He stares and his now pinkish gray shirt and sips the Slurpee, and thinks "Hell yeah!" |
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
macralf's journal