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Point Break of the Speed Matrix

Keanu is my Mac. He helps me reach you, Interwebs.

Tag Archives: Crazies

During my commute this morning there was a man in the back of the metro car singing the following line repetitiously every four Mississippi seconds for about seven metro stops:

Gonna fuck him up…  ooooh…

(He was also wearing this hat.)

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I first saw this Kids in the Hall commercial when I was 15.  I fell in love with Scott Thompson immediately and with his character “Fiore”, such committment.  To give you an idea of how insane I am, whenever I push myself or sacrifice beyond my own comfort level (i.e. waking at 5am to do FYLBC and not hitting snooze) I say, in my best “Fiore”, either aloud or in my head, “NEVER BEFORE MORE THAN I HAD TO BE!”  It still gives me the chuckle I need to get my shizz done.

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einstein“The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” -Albert Einstein

[Be prepared to read the most exciting story ever told.]

Most days I bring into work some low-cal budget friendly frozen entree to have for my lunch.  And every day I do the same thing.  I treat the microwave like a monkey would a computer.  For some reason my brain is not comfortable with or trusting of  appliances outside of my own home.  I feel like they’re (mostly microwaves but also fridges) trying to TRICK me or ruin my lunch.

Besides, this work microwave is weird.  It’s all modern but it has a dial and no buttons which IMMEDIATELY makes it suspect.  And other people use it and…. I don’t know what their food is doing to the inside of it… changing the electrons inside of the microwave so that it will no longer cook my food properly maybe?  I don’t know, ok?

So I pop my sodium bomb into the crazy silver time machine, set it for 5 minutes and walk back to my desk.   As soon as I reach my desk 50 feet away I am CONVINCED that 4.5 minutes has past and 1) I don’t want my food to blow up and 2) I don’t want to be the asshole that leaves their lunch in the microwave when it’s done.  This motivation does not originate with professional courtesy but rather a simple fear of dirty co-workers manhandling my food.  Dirty dirty co-workers with their weird food and their weird hands that prepare their weird food.

So naturally I break into a trot down the hall while passing Marketing.  I know what they must be thinking ( “There’s goes that crazy bitch ‘fraid her food gonna BLOW UP!”).  Screw you, Marketing. 

Anyhow, I reach the microwave and sure enough 45 seconds have passed.  Perhaps today is THE DAY it’s fully cooked and ready.   I open the microwave and give the meal a full examination.  Is the slit wide enough?  Does it need to be positioned differently?  Should I stir things with my fork?  It doesn’t matter because I do all of those things.  I then pop it back in, set the timer for 5 minutes…and the mobius begins again.

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quantumbond

Last night Coobs coobs1 and I went to see Quantum of Solace in Ballston and it was tremendous sexy good times.  I loved Casino Royale and this latest 007 installment did not disappoint.  Daniel Craig, were you made by the “Seximus Maximus” choir of angels?  Where did you come from?  You are so dreamy it almost makes me angry.  Almost.

So thanks to Coobs for putting up with my commentarty during the film which included a lot of “Damn.” and “yeah, that’s right.  uh-huh.” and my treasured one eyebrow raised “oh, really”.  It was his second time seeing the flick so I didn’t feel SO terrible.

I walked to the metro stop all juiced up from the film and I must have looked particulary sinful because I was approached by a fresh faced young man in a suit.  “Hello, miss.  Are you waiting for a friend?  I’d love to chat with you for a moment.”  He looked like he should have been in an ad for a Salt Lake City big brother/ little brother program.   It was very cold out and Daniel Craig was no where near so my tolerance level for random chat with strangers was at a minimum. 

Before he could go on, I interrupted and said, “I’m sorry, but who are you with?”  and still grinning he said, “Well, I am a missionary with the Church of…”

I interrupted again now noticing that he was wearing a name tag that had the “Church of Jesus Christ Latter Day Saints” on.   Mormons. 

I decided to not go with an ascerbic response because this kid just looked so hopeful.  So with a big smile on my face, I told a half truth and said: “Oh I see.  Well, I’m Catholic.  So I’m covered.” 

He said, “Well that’s just great.  You have a great evening.”  And I did.

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