Really Good Quotes

Greeting Quotaholics:

Haven’t been feeling well all week. Don’t think I’ll be getting a regular article out to you all. There seems to be a sore throat bug going around my family, which by now is morphing into a cold and sore throat. Usually I get over these things quickly but not this time. Today is day four of the ordeal. Probably five for some of you by the time you read this

I knew I was in trouble yesterday when drinking a glass of water made my throat hurt. For some reason, though, I find root-beer-barrels candy to be very soothing. Slurpees too, but I’m far too ill to consider driving six blocks to the 7-11. In my present state that would be as dangerous as drunk driving and I haven’t even had any Nyquil today! Yet.

Then there is the coughing thing. I definitely can’t cough and drive. I can barely remain upright while coughing, let alone operate heavy machinery…not that a Miata is all that heavy. But even if I could cough and drive, there is the danger of my head exploding while I am on the road. The car could careen out of control and injure an innocent bystander, maybe even a guilty bystander or two. Then there would be the emotional trauma to the emergency personnel of dealing with the gore and worst of all, I would make a mess of and probably wreck Ms. Scarlett. (Ms. Scarlett O’Terror…my little red convertible Miata.)

At least that is what it feels like. My grey matter is definitely operating below normal parameters, that is if there is anything left up there. I’m sure right now I’m functioning only due to the primitive part, the reptilian part of my brain

I was thinking of calling in sick so to speak, but the thought made me feel guilty…like I am really neglecting my duties. I don’t want to let my RGQ family down. Odd, that feeling is. Normally I don’t have any problems calling in sick to work on a normal type job. Normal as in the kind where you work 40 hours a week and get paid for it.

But here in the asylum where it is all a labor of love, I feel more loyalty to a passel of people I’ve only interacted with on an electronic level yet come to love, as opposed to disappointing a group of people at a normal job who I’ve personally interacted with on a daily basis and come to know and despise. Well, not all of them anyway, just the two faced backstabbing slackers. Every job has one or two of those.

While I was psyching myself up to try and write something…ok, more like practicing my avoidance behavior, I happened to see an article detailing a list of the top ten worst excuses for coming in late to work. (No link this time, sowwy, but it’s on msnbc or you can google it.) Never had that problem, being late that is, at least not on a consistent basis.

But there is my proclivity for upper respiratory infections which necessitates calling in sick. Usually there is no problem with a couple of days absence but, in my case which is going on day four now, supervisors start getting a little miffed if it drags on too long. Somehow just claiming a sore throat or a bad cold doesn’t seem to warrant that long of an absence, at least in their minds. Seems they’d rather you come in and share your cooties with the whole work place.

So what about you, dear readers. How do you handle it at your job when you are sick? Do you tell the straight truth, or do you pad it a little? Or are you one of those over-achieving types who goes to work no matter what, armed with a box of tissues and a bag full of over the counter remedies? How does management at your job deal with illnesses? Are they understanding or do they demand blind obedience to attendance policies? Do you ever use sickness as an excuse to just not go in because you don’t feel like it? What is your most outrageous excuse you have ever used if that is the case? What are some of the most outrageous excuses you have ever heard?

Me, I’m putting my Harry Potter dvd’s in the player and settling down on my sofa with my stuffed Scooby-Doo, box of tissues, favorite robe and my fuzzy pink blankie. Got my root-beer-barrels, aspirin and water on the tv tray. Approach at your own risk, I am rather like a wounded tiger when I am this sick. Nyquil, take me away!

GrammieSammie

Note to corporate…(s)…some complimentary product would be nice after those free adverts.

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Every flower is a soul blossoming in nature.  ~Gerard de Nerval

Beauty is power; a smile is its sword.  ~Charles Reade

Internetaholics Anonymous
[Thanks dEE]

Your name was given to us by a spouse or family member who is concerned about your internet addiction. At Internetaholics Anonymous, we can help.

Yes, you–we’re talking to you. You, looking at this screen for hours on end, online. You, bleary eyed. You, an addict. Have you looked in the mirror lately? Been outside? Know what day of the week it is? Have you checked downstairs to see if your family still lives with you?

We’re a non-profit society of recovering addicts like yourself that provides support and counselling through weekly (off-line) meetings designed to help you cope with your problem.

We feature a twelve-step recovery program and in extreme cases, interventions. Although it is our firm belief that you are never “cured,” you most certainly can recover.

We have designed a brief checklist to determine if you are an addict. Do you:

1) Have twitches of the hand when you walk by your terminal?

2) Check e-mail more than five times a day?

3) Spend more time chatting than eating or sleeping?

4) Surf aimlessly with no direction, if only to be online?

5) Leave your name and information at countless sites if only to hope you’ll receive a reply one day from a company you’ll never do business with anyway?

6) Log on before important personal habits, such as meal preparation, hygiene or bodily functions?

7) Have red, swollen eyes that hang halfway out of your head?

Spend hours online on a holiday from work, where you’d usually be griping about your carpal tunnel syndrome?

9) See smoke arising from your computer or laptop?

10) All of the above?

If you answered yes to four or more questions (or chose #10), you have a problem. Please call us at Internetaholics Anonymous at:

1-800-LOGOFFNOWFORPETE’SSAKE

A resignation is a grave act; never performed by a right minded man without forethought or with reserve.

Once I should have been, if not satisfied, partially, at least, contented with suffrage for the intelligent and those who have been soldiers; now I am convinced that universal suffrage is demanded by sound policy and impartial justice.

The law of the Creator, which invests every human being with an inalienable title to freedom, cannot be repealed by any interior law which asserts that man is property. – all from Salmon P. Chase, 6th Chief Justice of the United States, born on this day in 1808

Speak right up!

Luck

I’ve been waiting a while to write this article.  Today is "Friday the 13th".  Many people consider it to be bad luck and avoid every potential situation they can that may have a negative outcome.  I am not superstitious.

I say I am not superstitious, but I claim that this day is my lucky day.  Yes, it seems I am the other side of the lucky day coin.  I don’t know if I am heads or tails, but I seem to have a good day on Friday the 13th where everyone else claims it is is unlucky for them.  I really don’t believe one day, or even a thing is either lucky or unlucky.  I tend to believe I just focus on the positive things that occur to or around me on Friday the 13th.

Let’s face it, Nature tends to offset one thing with it’s opposite somewhere else.  A high pressure area in one area is countered with a low pressure area not too far away.  A vacuum is offset by a rush of matter to fill it.  A rabbit’s foot may be carried on someone’s key chain, but there is a rabbit in a wheelchair somewhere.

I don’t hesitate to walk under a ladder.  If there is something I need under it, or if I must get to the other side and it is blocking my path, I will not do as some of my coworkers have done and simply wait till the ladder is moved.  I can deal with it.  I’ll go under it and get my job done.  Since ladders are a big part of my work, I see it as saving time.

If a situation arises where I am unlucky and a mirror breaks, I am not worried that the bulk of the next decade is going to be any different due to that occurrence.  If I am going to throw away a mirror that does not fit in my trash can, I have no compunction to take a hammer, or some other handy item, and reduce the bulk to more manageable sizes.  I can’t count how many times I’ve done that and had accompanying shrieks of horror from someone witnessing the event.

I believe in luck though.  Let me define that a bit.  I believe there are random acts by others, or by circumstance, that affect me.  If a person is unaware, for whatever reason, that the traffic light changed and they t-bone my vehicle as I legally pass through the intersection, that is bad luck for both of us.  If someone drops some money and I come by later and discover it, that is good luck, for me.  I simply see "luck" as the culmination of events to a particular result.  How it affects me is how I define whether it is good or bad.

Here’s your quiz:
What superstitions do you hold dear?
How do you define "luck"?
Would you avoid a situation if you thought it would bring "bad luck"?

Luck - We All Have Plenty Of It, But What Kind Is The Issue

Cliff (the High-Tech Redneck who doesn’t rate a fancy ’signature pic’)

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Email Kirsten

“I’m packing your extra pair of shoes, and your angry eyes just in case.”
~ Mrs. Potato Head, to Mr. Potato Head, in Toy Story 2 ~

On Saturday, my younger son James will be going to the birthday party of a little girl he goes to school with. In order to avoid the last-minute shopping that is my trademark, I went on a lunchtime excursion today to get a birthday present for the little girl. Last night I asked James what she likes, and he replied, “Barbie dolls.”

Well, this made sense. It sounds like a perfectly reasonable present for a seven-year-old girl. But still, knowing how men frequently don’t have a clue what women really want, I had my doubts. These were assuaged when I dropped James off at the before and after school program that both he and the little girl attend. While James was taking his coat off, I was wandering around the room looking at artwork that was up on the walls. There was a display of Santa letters that each of the kids had written, and sure enough, the little girl had written that she wanted a Barbie doll.

In case you’re interested, James wrote that he wanted a giant duck.

So today at lunchtime, I went to Toys R Us, and more or less at random, I picked out a Barbie doll from the display that was frankly frightening in the amount of choice it offered.

While I was there, I decided to buy a present for each of my kids. No, it’s not Christmas and no, it’s not either of their birthdays. I simply felt like buying them a present, and Toys R Us had a lot of stuff on clearance.

I bought James a Finn McMissile - one that converts from a regular car into a submarine car and a speedboat car. Anyone who has seen Cars 2 will know what I’m talking about. James got the DVD for Christmas, and he’s been nuts for it ever since.

I decided on a Mr. Potato Head for George. It doesn’t matter to me that George already has about 60 Mr. Potato Heads. It’s one of the few toys he truly loves, and he likes his ever-growing collection. So off I went in search of the Mr. Potato Head display.

I couldn’t find it. I searched the store high and low and couldn’t find the Mr. Potato Heads. Eventually, I found one lonely Mr. Potato Head tucked away in a corner. I snagged it and went to pay for my purchases.

Walking back to my office, a horrifying thought struck me. Is Hasbro discontinuing Mr. Potato Head? Or are Toys R Us ceasing to carry them?

Life in my family would be intolerable without Mr. Potato Head. I cannot face the thought of the Toy Gods taking away something that brings such a huge smile to my child’s face.

What were the treasured toys that featured in your childhood? What about your kids?

Kaleidoscopically yours,
Kirsten

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It transpires that Judgipoo had started preparing for our little visit the Friday before New Years. You may recall that our hero was diagnosed with pancriatitis (which I still can’t spell) some weeks ago. He was miserable because his tummy hurt, and in his usual generous manner, he shared the joy with us for weeks.

Well, last Friday, he discovered that his diagnosis was not correct. It seems that Judgipoo’s gallbladder was eager to part company with him. Indeed, it appeared that it would rather die than continue their association, and it insisted on being taken out.

You would think that a procedure of that kind would require a few days off. Judgipoo, however, must have realized that surgery only enhanced his personality, and he didn’t want to waste his misery with bed rest when his calendar assured him that I could benefit from his discomfort.

My 8:30 case was a woman who brought me every document in her filing cabinet but the one her ex-husband’s attorney thought he needed. I encouraged her to remedy that oversight on several occasions. In fact, opposing counsel and I had continued her case several times in the hopes that the parties might give us enough information to settle our little dispute. They didn’t, and in a leap of bravery, spelled s-t-u-p-i-d-i-t-y, we presented the parties’ grievances to his honor. After all, we were only 2 or 3 useless documents from knowing their entire life histories.

We submitted our evidence with only 1000 or so interruptions. Judgipoo did his usual routine about not knowing any other judge who went to the trouble he did. Opposing counsel and I mentally reviewed the problems we had never had with Judgipoo’s fellows who seemed to be under the misconception that most of us were competent.

I had two more hearings with Judgipoo that day. His mood didn’t improve, unless you think more griping was somehow better. He yelled at me several times, and scared the hell out of my clients. I snarked right back at him. After all, he had gotten me up at an ungodly hour. The day finally came to a close. I bet you’re still wondering what Judgipoo and the book I am reading had to do with each other. I promise, I’ll reveal the secret on Monday.

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Not too many people sang with ol’ Hank, I guess.

Happy Friday, the 13th! Be careful, if you believe!

My father told me an old tale…

Hints:  Here’s a great new rhyming/composition tool.  http://www.writerhymes.com/
There’s also a great rhyming dictionary at http://www.rhymezone.com/
Limerick rules.  http://freespace.virgin.net/merrick.sheldon/limerickrules.htm 

Submit Opening Line
Submit Limerick

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