Oftentimes what impresses me about great TV or the movies is when the writers add something to the plot that seems unconscionable. To come up with something most people wouldn't admit to having thought of, let alone write it into primetime TV or a movie, takes courage.
I refer mostly to rediculously funny movies....often the ones starring Will Farrell, or early Jim Carey movies.
Tonight though, I saw something that was hardly funny. Rather, it was probably the most disturbing thing I have seen on TV.
I was watching NCIS and it was about a drug mule who died after the cocaine capsules he had ingested ruptured. The guy expecting to receive the drugs (intact) showed up with the kid's jonesing sister and wanted to cut the kid open to salvage some of the capsules. A doctor was forced to retrieve the drugs and purposely slashed the drug capsules so they would be ruined. Needless to say, there was a struggle. While the doctor and NCIS guy fought to get the drug guy under control , the sister was snorting cocaine off the her dead brother's intestines. Sick.
Sure, it was TV, and it is pretty common knowledge that a drug addict would do something horrible in the name of that next fix, but to snort coke off your dead brother's gutted intestines is pretty harsh. Slightly less harsh is coming up with it and writing it into a prime time tv episode.
BTW...NCIS is a great show!
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Workin for the Guv
Well, today was my first day working for the BC Government (The Guv). All in all, it went well. I was able to crack a few jokes, I didn't have to do any work, and my direct co-workers all like animals.
I wasn't that nervous, but that didn't stop me from taking a while to get to sleep. It didn't help that the fleacircus brigade was in full force at 5:45 am this morning.
The day started with a tour of the facilities which include numerous coffee stations (BYOC - caffeine and any apparatus you may require), a cafeteria, a gym (with classes and everything), and bike lockers (which I am on a wait list for). The day also consisted of forms...lots and lots of forms. Snore.
One such form was to say I wouldn't do anything bad, or install programs on the computer. So, my suspicion that MSN is a no go was right. That is OK though -- I have ZERO privacy in my semi-fishbowl cube. Besides, having 'clean' workstations directly impacts me since I'll be responsible for ensuring new applications work on all types of workstations.
Things I found out today:
1. There are 3 Heather MacLeod's working for the BC Gov.
2. I get to swear at work...and they book 15 minutes for it. OK, so I'll be swearing an oath, not a blue streak, but still!
3. There aren't enough shower curtains in the shower stalls at work. I hope I don't have to go freestyle!
The predominant sentiment today was grief. Grief over the loss of working for a company (ACD) that I knew inside out. I could recognize almost anyone by the sound of their voice, and a select few by the way they walked. On the up side, there are just so many people in the office that I don't feel like I stand out like a sore thumb the way I would at a company of 30-60 people. As the hours wore on and my mid-morning feeding came and went without food, I found it harder to embrace my new surroundings. Fortunately, some food, caffeine, and a bit of fresh air helped.
I am hoping my sleeping habits get back to normal so I don't have to drag my butt around like a zombie tomorrow.
I wasn't that nervous, but that didn't stop me from taking a while to get to sleep. It didn't help that the fleacircus brigade was in full force at 5:45 am this morning.
The day started with a tour of the facilities which include numerous coffee stations (BYOC - caffeine and any apparatus you may require), a cafeteria, a gym (with classes and everything), and bike lockers (which I am on a wait list for). The day also consisted of forms...lots and lots of forms. Snore.
One such form was to say I wouldn't do anything bad, or install programs on the computer. So, my suspicion that MSN is a no go was right. That is OK though -- I have ZERO privacy in my semi-fishbowl cube. Besides, having 'clean' workstations directly impacts me since I'll be responsible for ensuring new applications work on all types of workstations.
Things I found out today:
1. There are 3 Heather MacLeod's working for the BC Gov.
2. I get to swear at work...and they book 15 minutes for it. OK, so I'll be swearing an oath, not a blue streak, but still!
3. There aren't enough shower curtains in the shower stalls at work. I hope I don't have to go freestyle!
The predominant sentiment today was grief. Grief over the loss of working for a company (ACD) that I knew inside out. I could recognize almost anyone by the sound of their voice, and a select few by the way they walked. On the up side, there are just so many people in the office that I don't feel like I stand out like a sore thumb the way I would at a company of 30-60 people. As the hours wore on and my mid-morning feeding came and went without food, I found it harder to embrace my new surroundings. Fortunately, some food, caffeine, and a bit of fresh air helped.
I am hoping my sleeping habits get back to normal so I don't have to drag my butt around like a zombie tomorrow.
Monday, May 21, 2007
A solid 8 hours
Wow, I slept for 8 hours solid the other night. It was my first night in Van and I was in the tiny twin bed at my Grandma's house. I can't remember the last time I slept for 8 hours straight. Ever.
It might have something to do with the lack of cats at 6:30 in the morning, but I really think it had to do with the foam mattress topper she has on her guest bed -- I barely tossed and turned...even on the nights when I didn't sleep for 8 hours straight.
So, upon returning to Victoria, I went to buy a memory foam mattress topper for my bed at home. I didn't get the fancy $140 version from Linens N Things, or the Temper Pedic version. Rather, I got the $80 version which smells pretty funny.
Last night was my first night trying it out, but I was so overtired from two 2:00 pm - 11:30 pm shifts with my nephew Kaleb, that I still managed to toss and turn. Given I have to start a new job tomorrow, I am not sure tonight will be a good test either -- I would probably toss and turn regardless what I was sleeping on.
I already love sleeping (never phone me before noon on weekends), so I am a bit afraid to see what might happen.
It might have something to do with the lack of cats at 6:30 in the morning, but I really think it had to do with the foam mattress topper she has on her guest bed -- I barely tossed and turned...even on the nights when I didn't sleep for 8 hours straight.
So, upon returning to Victoria, I went to buy a memory foam mattress topper for my bed at home. I didn't get the fancy $140 version from Linens N Things, or the Temper Pedic version. Rather, I got the $80 version which smells pretty funny.
Last night was my first night trying it out, but I was so overtired from two 2:00 pm - 11:30 pm shifts with my nephew Kaleb, that I still managed to toss and turn. Given I have to start a new job tomorrow, I am not sure tonight will be a good test either -- I would probably toss and turn regardless what I was sleeping on.
I already love sleeping (never phone me before noon on weekends), so I am a bit afraid to see what might happen.
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
I need a valium...STAT!
Yesterday could be considered a textbook example of a bad Monday: I broke my key in the door (fortunately, the piece broke off in my hand and not in the lock), a jacka$$ cut me off in traffic (I honked and fingered him, than passed him), and I saved my parents new patio table from being destroyed by my Dad.
It all started when I went there for dinner. I was hungry and knew full well we weren't going to eat at 6 like my Dad said (we ate at 8:30 or so), but I tried to remain calm. It wasn't long before my Dad told me he had a technical question. It was actually a tool question, as opposed to the typical technical (computer) questions he pummels me with on a somewhat regular basis (which is then followed by a rant about customer service and product design at company XYX).
He asked me to cut the patio table umbrella hole grommet thingamagig in half so it would fit in the hole of the tiled patio table top. I obliged, but suggested we just cut out a section, instead of cutting the grommit right in half. Brilliant they thought. Not so brilliant was the fact that I didn't think to ask why the grommet was so large in the first place.
After several trips up and down the basement stairs, which required I contort my body to avoid getting the hand rail in my hip, tripping on the 3 mops hanging in the stairwell, and getting a bag of recycling in my face, I cut the grommet to the right size. Navigating my Dad's shop was no easy feat either. I had to make my way past the airplane cockpit he is building down there, through piles of stuff, and over shards of broken glass and twisted metal (I am NOT exaggerating in the least). As you can guess, the saw I was using (coping I think) had a twisted blade, so it was hard to cut a straight line. The sight of my Dad's shop would send Helen B and the guys from Clean Sweep running out of the house and throwing themselves in front of one of the many double decker buses which pass by my parents house on a daily basis.
Back on the deck, the grommet snugly in place, I went to move the umbrella base into position under the table. It wouldn't fit under the side rails of the table without lifting one side of the table and sliding it under. It also wouldn't fit under the umbrella bracket which also acts as support for the table legs.
I decided to ignore this for now and lift the umbrella in place. It suddenly became clear why the grommet was too big in the first place -- the umbrella pole was bigger than the hole in the table. That's OK, my Dad said, we don't need the grommet. Uh, yes you do Dad I said. The table top is tile and the pressure of the pole next to the edge of the hole could cause the tile to chip or crack. This is especically true since the pole was also too big to fit in the bracket beneath the table. So, upon my command, we removed the umbrella.
The next challenge was to deal with the base that was too tall. That's OK my Dad said again. I'll just cut the support brackets off the table. Visualizing the table collapsing under the weight of the tile top and the umbrella, I suggested we reduce the height of the base by cutting the vertical tube the pole fits inside.
At this point, I looked at my parents friend Marylin who was visiting and listed out all the ways in which I had just saved the brand new table...all because I happened to stop by on that particular evening.
Events like these are all too common. It didn't take long to recall another example as I looked out over the edge of the deck at the greenhouse my Dad built, the electrical outlet installed on the deck, and the hose 'stations' throughout the yard.
Dad, if you are still reading this...I love you. Next time, consider this saying: "Two heads are better than one" and your next project may go a bit smoother.
It all started when I went there for dinner. I was hungry and knew full well we weren't going to eat at 6 like my Dad said (we ate at 8:30 or so), but I tried to remain calm. It wasn't long before my Dad told me he had a technical question. It was actually a tool question, as opposed to the typical technical (computer) questions he pummels me with on a somewhat regular basis (which is then followed by a rant about customer service and product design at company XYX).
He asked me to cut the patio table umbrella hole grommet thingamagig in half so it would fit in the hole of the tiled patio table top. I obliged, but suggested we just cut out a section, instead of cutting the grommit right in half. Brilliant they thought. Not so brilliant was the fact that I didn't think to ask why the grommet was so large in the first place.
After several trips up and down the basement stairs, which required I contort my body to avoid getting the hand rail in my hip, tripping on the 3 mops hanging in the stairwell, and getting a bag of recycling in my face, I cut the grommet to the right size. Navigating my Dad's shop was no easy feat either. I had to make my way past the airplane cockpit he is building down there, through piles of stuff, and over shards of broken glass and twisted metal (I am NOT exaggerating in the least). As you can guess, the saw I was using (coping I think) had a twisted blade, so it was hard to cut a straight line. The sight of my Dad's shop would send Helen B and the guys from Clean Sweep running out of the house and throwing themselves in front of one of the many double decker buses which pass by my parents house on a daily basis.
Back on the deck, the grommet snugly in place, I went to move the umbrella base into position under the table. It wouldn't fit under the side rails of the table without lifting one side of the table and sliding it under. It also wouldn't fit under the umbrella bracket which also acts as support for the table legs.
I decided to ignore this for now and lift the umbrella in place. It suddenly became clear why the grommet was too big in the first place -- the umbrella pole was bigger than the hole in the table. That's OK, my Dad said, we don't need the grommet. Uh, yes you do Dad I said. The table top is tile and the pressure of the pole next to the edge of the hole could cause the tile to chip or crack. This is especically true since the pole was also too big to fit in the bracket beneath the table. So, upon my command, we removed the umbrella.
The next challenge was to deal with the base that was too tall. That's OK my Dad said again. I'll just cut the support brackets off the table. Visualizing the table collapsing under the weight of the tile top and the umbrella, I suggested we reduce the height of the base by cutting the vertical tube the pole fits inside.
At this point, I looked at my parents friend Marylin who was visiting and listed out all the ways in which I had just saved the brand new table...all because I happened to stop by on that particular evening.
Events like these are all too common. It didn't take long to recall another example as I looked out over the edge of the deck at the greenhouse my Dad built, the electrical outlet installed on the deck, and the hose 'stations' throughout the yard.
Dad, if you are still reading this...I love you. Next time, consider this saying: "Two heads are better than one" and your next project may go a bit smoother.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
It isn't like I dropped an anvil on her face
My cats beg to be fed snacks about 800 times a day. I usually give them 5-10 kernels of their regular food. As you can imagine, I lose count at about 347. I give in because if I don't, Evin will run to the bowl every time I get up to walk. Most times, the bowl is nowhere near where I am headed so I trip over him as he dashes right in front of me.
I keep most of the food in a large Iams tin, but I have a 1/2 cup plastic Rubbermaid container which makes gauging portion size much easier. Plus, I don't have to deal with the stupid noisy tin lid nearly as often.
Last night, on trip 652 to the food dish I was opening the little container full of food when I lost my grip and dropped it. Because Cleo was at my feet looking up in anticipation, it managed to fall on her face.
As you can guess, she ran away. Not only that, she wouldn't come near me. I couldn't believe she would be so quickly and permanently traumatized by this rare event, so I picked up the food container and shook it. Normally, this brings the cats running from wherever they may be. This time, Cleo cowered under the coffee table. Even attempts to lure her back with catnip failed. All the while, Evin couldn't believe his luck at snacks AND catnip! He got two servings of each due to Cleo's new found phobia -- the cat food container.
This morning, I was able to feed Cleo her breakfast from that container, but it was pretty full so not as noisy. As I was preparing to leave, I gave them another snack and sure enough, the sound of the container shaking sent her straight upstairs and under my bed. Evin got another double-dose of snacks.
I think I need to find a new way to store the cat food. But seriously Cleo, get a grip. It isn't like I dropped an anvil on your face.
I keep most of the food in a large Iams tin, but I have a 1/2 cup plastic Rubbermaid container which makes gauging portion size much easier. Plus, I don't have to deal with the stupid noisy tin lid nearly as often.
Last night, on trip 652 to the food dish I was opening the little container full of food when I lost my grip and dropped it. Because Cleo was at my feet looking up in anticipation, it managed to fall on her face.
As you can guess, she ran away. Not only that, she wouldn't come near me. I couldn't believe she would be so quickly and permanently traumatized by this rare event, so I picked up the food container and shook it. Normally, this brings the cats running from wherever they may be. This time, Cleo cowered under the coffee table. Even attempts to lure her back with catnip failed. All the while, Evin couldn't believe his luck at snacks AND catnip! He got two servings of each due to Cleo's new found phobia -- the cat food container.
This morning, I was able to feed Cleo her breakfast from that container, but it was pretty full so not as noisy. As I was preparing to leave, I gave them another snack and sure enough, the sound of the container shaking sent her straight upstairs and under my bed. Evin got another double-dose of snacks.
I think I need to find a new way to store the cat food. But seriously Cleo, get a grip. It isn't like I dropped an anvil on your face.
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Happy Birthday Cleo...you old flea circus you!
Apparently it is Cleo's 9th birthday today. I didn't have it marked on my calendar, but Catster did and sent me an email.
I marked the occasion by giving her and Evin cat treats, and reminding her of how funny it was when she fell off the cat scratcher yesterday.
Evin inhaled his treats (you don't want to know how I know this) and then tried eating Cleo's treats. I fended him off while Cleo growled at him and finished her treats.
Cleo is probably celebrating her birthday by shedding on my couch and/or caughing up a furball.
Happy 9th Cleo!
I marked the occasion by giving her and Evin cat treats, and reminding her of how funny it was when she fell off the cat scratcher yesterday.
Evin inhaled his treats (you don't want to know how I know this) and then tried eating Cleo's treats. I fended him off while Cleo growled at him and finished her treats.
Cleo is probably celebrating her birthday by shedding on my couch and/or caughing up a furball.
Happy 9th Cleo!
A step back in time
I was born in Vancouver and lived there until I was 8. I've always had fond memories of Van, and even though I only went back twice before moving to BC when I was 19, I managed to remember the basic layout. Pretty good for a kid who couldn't drive or barely see out the window for the first half of those 8 years! I think taking solitary walks along King Edward and Mackenzie (playing in traffic) while I was 2 helped me get my bearings! Poor Mom was too busy dealing with Scotty to keep track of her wandering toddler.
One day my Dad took me and my siblings up to Dunbar. I remember being in a bookstore, my Dad remembers it being a Library and my Mom, who wasn't there, remembers it being someplace else.
Anywho, I lost track of my Dad. After trolling the aisles, I found him. But, then I lost him again. Being kid number 3 (of 4) to an absent-minded professor of a Dad (sorry Dad, but it is true), I thought he left without me. So, I decided to walk home.
I made my way over to King Edward (25th) and headed East towards home. A few blocks in, I approached Grandma's house (blue dot on map below). But, I couldn't go in as my sister Kim would be mad at me for spoiling her weekend sleepover with Grandma. So, I kept going. I don't remember the rest of the walk, but I do remember arriving at Granville and Connaught (~ 6 blocks from home) where I was met by a Policeman. Seems Dad didn't leave without me afterall. Instead, he probably panicked and called the police.
Being the shy, rule abiding child that I was, I didn't want to go into the strangers car so declined the policemans offer to wait in his cruiser. I think I wanted to keep walking, but I don't really remember the rest. I don't even remember being reunited with my Dad.
From that day forward, I have been a Master Parent Finder (TM). My Mom used to take us to the mall and announce the time we were to meet back up at the pet store. I wasn't an avid shopper then, so was usually done before the time was up so would go looking for my Mom. I could always find her whether she was in the grocery store, dress shop, or the florist. I never had to walk home again.
Here is the route I took:
One day, I'll drive it and record the distance.
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One day: I drove the route and it was a whopping 4.5 kms!
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