How'm I doin'?

Bear just trotted off to bartend yet another suck-arse Haitian alcohol-free party. If you ask me why someone holding a non-alcoholic event would request TWO bartenders I will hit you in the head with a platter of Green Pepper Round Steak. What this means is, in short, ZERO LIKELIHOOD OF TIPS. 'Nuff said.

After he left, I piled my hair up on top of my head and set about cleaning things up around here - doing dishes, scrubbing the bathroom, making the bed, yada yada yada. Afterwards I was a bit warmish, and decided to rinse my face off with some cool water.

I set my glasses down on the countertop and splashed my face, and as I towelled off, I noticed my skin was a bit dry - probably due to the cold weather we've been having here lately. I remembered some cold cream I had stashed under the sink, and figured this would be a good time for a little conditioning, since no one but the cats would see me walking around with scary-face on.

I reached under the sink, grabbed the cold cream, and began slathering it on. It was not as cold and creamy as I remembered it being, but it smelled wonderful. I figured since I only use cold cream once every two years or so, it had probably dried out a bit. Still, it wasn't smelling all that much like cold cream.

After my entire face was covered in white goo, I brought the container up close to my face and looked at the label.

If I wake up tomorrow looking like Joan Rivers, you will be the only ones who know why. Excuse me while I go and find a facial expression that I can live with forever.

Crouching Dinner, Hidden Flavor

Ah, grasshoppah... the ancient art of reading tea leaves is mere child's play when compared to the art of reading an entire dinner! Squint your eyes along with me and see the true meaning of Green Pepper Round Steak!

Many years ago our waters were plagued by hordes of shrieking eels. They were a luminous green, and so sensitive to sunlight that a mere few seconds above the water's surface would turn them black around the edges.

One day, there was a small boat full of rich, fat businessmen coming ashore. Suddenly- ((WHAM!)) it was rammed and overturned by a school of ravenous eels. They thrashed so hard that white foam formed a circle around them. The water was bloody as the eels dove and surfaced, shredding chunks of meat as they swam. It was truly one of the most gruesome tales in our history.

Now, to commemorate this, every year we make Green Pepper Round Steak. No amount of apple pie can erase the memory of that fateful day. No floral pottery, however artfully placed near its matching salt and pepper shakers, can cheer us. Even the Sacred One-Eyed Cock turns his face away from the harrowing scene, overcome with grief.

We eat our Green Pepper Round Steak in silence, and remember.

It's cultural appreciation night here at Mental Meatloaf

You just haven't lived until you've seen this video. Grab yourself a couple of extra pairs of underwear and sing along... the words are at the bottom of the screen!

The OTHER Side of Giving Thanks: Act I Scene I

At this festive time of year, our hearts turn to all the things we're thankful for. Friends, family, a warm dry place to sleep, good food, fast cars, and KY. (I mean, who isn't thankful for Kentucky?)

However, even these light-hearted and grateful sentiments have a DARK SIDE. (Dun-dun-DUNNNNNNNNNNN!) Aside from things we're grateful for having, there are those things we are thankful not to have.

And so, without further ado, Marcheline presents:

The year 1973 is the gracious benefactor of this collection of heinous dinner photography, complete with era-appropriate avocado-colored backgrounds.

We begin with this disturbing scenario, which shows an array of imprisoned food. Note how the glossy, fat-riddled mystery meat is surrounded by potato guards armed with deathly parsley! The potato guards are considered high-risk too, apparently, as they have been bound in place with strips of masking tape.

Cherries have long been famous for their aggressive and bloodthirsty nature. The obvious way to keep them in line is to flank them with squads of vicious oatmeal cookies. Oatmeal cookies don't take no crap from no one, see? Well, actually they do, but I'm just calling it like I see it in the picture, people.

In the upper right corner we have lima beans and corn. It may appear that the lima beans are pacifists, laying down and acting bland, but that is only because there are two corn Colonels assigned to each one. If a lima bean attempts an escape, the corn tag-teams and stuns the lima bean with karate chops to the aorta.

You see, Dear Readers, the cooking world is not entirely the happy, calorie-filled place that the Food Network would have you believe. Lucky for us there are things like SERIES 5! WITH HELPFUL GUIDES!! to show us what's really lurking out there, and what we can be thankful we don't have to deal with this holiday season.


Until next time,

Marcheline

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!

In honor of this festive and food-centered holiday, Marcheline proudly presents two recipes which have been perfected and handed down by her mother. These two recipes, prepared in tandem, will guarantee you an invite to the Thanksgiving table of your choice - if you aren't hosting a gathering of your own, that is...

MOM'S PUMPKIN SOUP

INGREDIENTS:

• 2 1/2 cups mashed cooked pumpkin (canned is fine)

• 3 cups chicken broth

• 1 small onion, chopped fine

• 1 tbsp butter

• Heavy cream or half-and-half

• Salt

• Curry powder

• Black pepper

DIRECTIONS:

• Saute chopped onion in the butter until transparent. (The onions, not you, silly.)

• Add pumpkin and chicken broth, stir over medium heat until fully blended.

• Add curry, salt, and pepper to taste (I use at least 1 tbsp curry).

• Puree the soup in a food processor or blender, a small batch at a time, until the whole thing is velvety smooth. Return it to the cooking pot.

• If you are serving this soup the same day you make it, add one cup of cream, stir it in, and then slowly add more until the soup is the consistency you prefer. Do not let the soup boil once you have added the cream.

• If you are serving it the following day, refrigerate it without adding the cream. Next day, reheat the soup base and add the cream just before serving it.

• If you are a hard-core "foodie", put a dollop of creme fraiche on top before serving it. If not, just suck it down while dunking chunks of crusty bread into it... like I do!

Note: This soup also makes a rockin' gravy for turkey and mashed taters! Or french fries! Or a stack of comic books! Or your sister's head! This stuff is so delicious it will make anything taste good.

CHEERY, CHUNKY
CRANBERRY CHUTNEY

INGREDIENTS:

• 16oz. fresh raw cranberries (4 cups)

• 2 cups sugar

• 1 cup water

• 1 cup orange juice

• 3/4 cup golden raisins

• 3/4 cup regular raisins

• 1 cup coarsely chopped walnuts

• 1 cup finely chopped celery

• 1 finely chopped red delicious apple

• 1 finely chopped granny smith apple

• 1 tbsp freshly grated orange peel

• 1 tsp ground ginger

DIRECTIONS:

• Put cranberries, sugar, and water in a pot on high heat, stirring frequently until it boils.

• Turn heat to low, cover the pot, and simmer for 15 minutes.

• Remove pot from heat, add all other ingredients.

• Stir well, let sit until it comes to room temperature, then refrigerate.

Note: This is one of those things that tastes better if you make it at least one or two days in advance. It gives the flavors time to "marry", and allows you to "check on it" when no one is looking - just to make sure the flavors are not having sex before they marry.

Sludge and Numbers

I woke up this morning with an unhappy digestive tract (due, no doubt, to yesterday's chili for lunch and spicy-hot ramen for dinner), golf balls instead of throat glands, and a headache reminiscent of too much wine, although I didn't drink any last night. Highly unfair to have a hangover when one hasn't touched a drop, isn't it?

Then it was off to work, where I anticipated the start of the end-of-training pages in the syllabus. These last pages don't list reams of things to memorize, they simply say "review material for final exam". Having already achieved perfect or near perfect scores on every test so far, I am really quite fed up ready to start reviewing everything and re-cementing it into my memory.

No such luck. An easy day was just not in the stars for Marcheline, apparently.



To start with, the cooling medicinal Tucks pad I had applied to my chili-burned posterior had made a wet spot on the back of my jeans. WONDERFUL. Note to self: Walk around with pocketbook over shoulder, covering arse.



Secondly, I had been feeling too queasy for breakfast this morning, and so left the house with nothing in my stomach but a cup of tea. When the office secretary made her usual morning announcement over the loudspeaker that the coffee truck had arrived, I finished copying down what the instructor was saying, and went out to get myself a bagel. The truck was gone. There couldn't have been three minutes between the announcement and my going outside, and the truck. Was. Gone.

Damn!

Back inside again, we'd finished our daily test (I got 97% on this one... slipping!) and then the instructor dropped the bomb. Three more pages of abbreviations to memorize "over the next few days"... and a wad of weather report lingo that would confuse Confucius.

After lunch most of our class time was spent on the keyboard, typing in mock communications using actual radio operators' notes. I love this kind of thing, because it's hands-on stuff which helps me get a grip on how things actually go, feel the rhythm that needs to be found in order to talk, type, and read back the information in the most efficient manner.



The instructor must have sensed that we were worn out (perhaps the wailing and gnashing of teeth tipped him off), and he let us go fifteen minutes early. I went by the drugstore on my way home, picked up some new cosmetics (the mascara I have been using has a brush made of dinosaur hairs) and some girl-things. I also got some dry-erase markers for the large map that I have to be able to correctly label with three hundred waypoints for the final...



When I got home and walked in the cottage door, the cats were on hand to greet me with snuggles and purrs, and a wonderfully delicious smell was wafting out of the kitchen. Bear sailed out to kiss me with a mischievous look in his eye, answering only "Dinner!" to my question regarding the origin of that scrumptious smell. Then he put an ice cold drink in my hand. (Have you ever tried that new Canada Dry Green Tea Gingerale? It's marvy!!)

This day didn't start out like much, but it certainly is getting better by the second!

Marcheline wins a contest!

Silver Ravenwolf, the author of some of my favorite pagan books, had a contest on her blog recently. She posted this picture (above) and asked people to submit poems, stories, or graphic art involving the two girls in the picture. My entry was picked as the winner of the poems, and I am pleased as punch! Here's my poem:

The Silver Chain

The sisters lived down in the glen
Beyond the grassy plain
Fair Ellen wore an angel’s face
Her twin, a silver chain

Ellen loved the wildling Hugh
All others she disdained
Her twin was left alone to sigh
And twist her silver chain

Her fingers worked a midnight spell
Fair Ellen to restrain
She wove a silken Samhain web
With threads of silver chain

But love, the strongest magick,
Sighed out its sweet refrain
Fair Ellen wore a wedding gown
Her twin, a silver chain

A Secret Reply

I have been a fan of the PostSecret website for years, and this week I saw a secret that I just can't bear to ignore.

Now, I don't know who sent this in (obviously, because the site isn't named Post Your Name And Confess Publicly) but on the odd chance that woman finds my blog, I have a few things to say to her.

1. Go to the grocery store and buy a bag of pretzel nuggets and a bunch of fresh parsley. When you get home, open the bag of pretzel nuggets and put just one on a plate, surrounded by parsley. Voila!
   


2. So you're telling me that in five years, the man has never taken a shower or gone to sleep while you are in the house? Perhaps you have more important marital problems than missing out on glimpses of limp peen, eh?
   


3. If you've been married for five years and every time you see the man naked, he's rip-raring to go, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU COMPLAINING ABOUT, BITCH? Be careful what you wish for...
   

I'm just sayin'.

Moskau! Moskau!

I had planned to regale you with stories from my new job, but as it's Friday night, and I am planning to study nothing but my belly-button lint for a day or two, I thought I'd leave you with a refreshing bout of gut-wrenching laughter instead.

Maybe tomorrow I'll have the energy to talk about my latest adventures in radio operating...

Pushing Tin - Part III

My husband informs me that last night, as I slept, I was tipping up an invisible beverage to my lips with one hand and making "drinking from the bottle" mouth. So you see, folks, even though my waking life is one big study session involving airline codes, international call signs, and route checkpoints, there's nothing to worry about. My dream life is one big party!

I have two good news items to report today. One is that I got a perfect score on the horrific exam I was studying for all weekend despite the fact that My Mother Whom I Love Dearly came to visit.

The second is that I received my radio operator license in the mail today! One section, according to the paper it was printed on, is "suitable for framing" and the other section (with cute little scissors printed around the edges in case I can't read) is for my wallet. Joking aside, I am pretty stoked about getting the license. Makes the whole thing seem more real.

Today in class, after taking the horrifically scary exam and watching a PowerPoint presentation on the sun and how solar activity affects radio signal propagation, we got turned loose on the live radio floor! Each of us were assigned a teaching operator, and we got to plug our headsets in alongside theirs and listen to them do their thing.

After watching my instructor taking calls, typing them up on the screen, and transmitting them to the appropriate recipients for ten minutes or so, I whipped out a notebook and tried to write down what I thought the pilots were saying. As we can type much faster than we can write, it got a bit sticky at times, but I did tune my "radio ear" a bit to be able to decipher the altitudes from the flight levels, the wind velocity from the estimated time of arrival. Getting this right is going to take some time, peeps. It's really hard to understand these guys sometimes!

The two funniest pilots were on opposite ends of the voice spectrum. One German pilot had a big, deep, gloomy voice that made me keep waiting to hear "I VANT TO SUCK YOUR BLOOD" after every transmission. Even funnier was the French pilot who sounded like a poodle getting a Probity-Probe stuck up his whatsis... he yelled into the microphone in a high-pitched voice as if his plane was going down in flames, and all he was doing was giving us a location check. My instructor indicated that almost all the French pilots sound as if they are in the middle of a dire emergency. We had a giggle about it.

If you would like to know exactly what the French pilot sounded like, watch this video and you'll have a pretty good idea. When you get up off the floor and wipe your eyes afterwards, I dare you not to watch it again.

I DARE YOU.

The newest Half Blood Prince trailer!

For those of you who are, as I am, anxiously awaiting the long-delayed opening night of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, here is yet another teaser trailer designed to keep the magic alive until we can finally see it in the theater...

Pushing Tin - Take Two

For those of you who have been following the bouncing ball along my varied and sundry career choices, you may have noticed that I have made a lot of comments recently about the difficulty of the training period for my new job as radio operator.

I don't take any of that back, by any means. We have been required to memorize over 400 items in the past four days. Testable items which are cumulative and reappear on the daily quizzes along with the newly required memorized data. It is truly enough to deflate the mental balloon of even the most stalwart thinker.

However, I have prevailed thus far (as my head is actually made of rock) and have achieved near perfect scores on all tests so far. Today I missed one question because I transposed an "s" and a "t". Seems like a minor flaw, but when I'm live on the radio with an aircraft requesting clearance from 31,000 feet to 36,000 feet, one digit wrong can make the difference between that plane arriving safely at its destination and perhaps colliding with another plane on the same altitude. So you see, it's really for everyone's benefit that the training is as strenuous as it is. Just good job training.

All that aside, the point I really wanted to make here is that I am really and truly grateful for this job. This job is giving me a final shot at really getting somewhere with my life, and setting a firm foundation for Bear's and my life as well.

This job is covering both my husband and myself - FROM DAY ONE - with complete medical, dental, and optical insurance. Within the first two years of employment I will have received five raises. Not raises I have to "qualify" for - raises that are in the union contract. If I am there, working, I get the raises - period. I will get five sick days and six personal leave days and twelve holidays a year, not to mention double pay for any overtime I work. There is also vacation time, and the senior people currently in the company are getting eight weeks paid vacation - so that gets increased with time as well. There is a 401K program and all the rest, too...

I am 41 years old, and getting this job right now will enable me to (possibly) retire with a pension at 65. If I start saving, I may even have some retirement money. These are things that were previously impossible.

I guess what I'm saying is, in this broke-down economy, with people out of work right and left, I am counting myself blessed and so fortunate to have landed this job. Doesn't matter if I have to memorize the Gettysburg address in Latin, really. Everything I am learning now is going to be useful to me when I am working live radio, so it will pay off in the end.

All of the radio operators that I've met so far, in the break room, in the parking lot on the way to/from work, in the halls and etc., have been so friendly and so helpful. A lady I spoke with today has been with the company for twenty years. Her daughter is working there. Her grandfather worked with the company back in the 1960's. Any place that draws three generations into its fold has got to have something that other places don't have, in my book.

Even though the job itself has its stresses, the workplace is casual and friendly, and the policies and procedures of the company are directed towards making the workplace as attractive and friendly as possible. Every day they announce over the loudspeaker when the coffee truck arrives, and there is always fresh coffee in the break room for anyone who wants some - there is no "coffee club" or request for money to be paid if you drink some.

From all I've seen and heard this week, I can tell that this company really takes care of its employees. Of course the main goal is 100% accuracy on radio transmissions - as flight safety is the priority - but they have not skimped on taking steps to make sure that employees are afforded all of the comforts that can be had. The ladies' room even has hand lotion and body sprays available, live plants, and magazines. I know that's not proof that the place is heaven on earth, but it's the little niceties that people think of that indicate the underlying sentiment.

So, to make up for all my past (and most likely future) whinging and whining, I want to make it clear (in case Zeus, Buddha, Jesus, Allah, or Cernunnos read this blog) that I am thankful to the depth of my soul for this job.

Thank You, Service Members!

Pushing Tin - The Training

OK - so today was my second day at the new job. No, I'm not training to be an actual air traffic controller, but the job is so similar that the difference doesn't bear explanation. Besides, I've got a shitload of studying to do.

Every night we have homework which involves copious reading of brain-numbing chapters of company policy, in addition to memorization of scads of airline codes and international locator codes. Thank goodness Bear found me a downloadable study program online which allows you to input the questions and answers to stuff you need to study, and then it tests you over and over and over in eight million different ways. Works like a charm! I got 100% on my quiz today - HOOAH!

Today we got to put our headsets on and listen to some live radio work going down, we learned how to use the touchscreen computer console to set up our work station, and then our instructor left for the day and we were abandoned to several hours of interactive video instruction on the following topics:

• How Not To Sell Company Secrets to Foreign Countries
• How Much Trouble You Can Get Into Here If You Screw Up
• Do Not Call Your CoWorkers "Honey", "Babe", or "Redneck" - It's Agin The Law!!
• Seventeen Ways To Report People Who Try To Suck You Into Screwing Up
• How Even Looking Like You Screwed Up Can Screw You Up
  

An added skill set I picked up today was one they probably hadn't planned on:

• How To Skim Through Annoying Fake Role-Played Conversations And Get To The Overtly Easy-To-Answer Quiz At The End

Even though I have already mentioned that I do not work for the FAA nor the ATC, I will still direct all of you to view the movie "Pushing Tin" to get an idea of what my workdays may be like if I make it through training alive and retain the capability of putting together a coherent sentence on the radio.

It's one of my favorite movies ever. Billy Bob Thornton is a genius, John Cusack is hysterical, and there's some nekkid Angelina Jolie in there, too... for those of you who needed to be convinced.

Timewarp lookalikes

There's this 1990's TV series pilot called "Kindred: The Embraced". It starred Mark Frankel, a British actor of great beauty whose untimely death prevented the series from ever becoming a reality.

Every once in a while, we pull the pilot tapes out and watch them, because the storyline was really great. In one episode, there's a vampire rock star who I thought at first was Adrian Grenier, until I realized that Adrian Grenier was probably in diapers when this pilot was made.

With a little research, I found out that the actor's name was actually Ivan Sergei. But just so you can see how similar they are, I put this little comparison together. With the aid of colored contact lenses, they could be twins.

On the left, Adrian Grenier. On the right, Ivan Sergei.

What's wrong with this picture? (Besides the artwork)

The other day, in a bid to refresh our larder (that's a Little House on the Prairie word that only appears to mean something to do with fatback, but actually means "food cabinet"), Bear and I traveled north to our favorite Asian grocery store.

This is a pretty amazing store for several reasons, not the least of which is that one can purchase more food than one person can carry in both hands, and spend only $50. Of course the fact that most of the food is made out of noodles could explain that, but seriously - you can buy huge bags of spices for $3 each, and if you bought one tiny glass container of the same spice in a regular grocery store, you'd pay $7. Word to the wise - buy your spices at the Asian grocery!

But I digress. The actual story I'm trying to tell occurred before we even got inside the grocery store. We were pulling up to the building, which is surrounded by a huge parking lot but which also has painted parking spots right up against the side of the building (see above diagram).

As we slowly rolled towards our usual parking spot, I noticed that the handicapped parking spot had been placed several spaces away from the front door of the store. WTF???

Furthermore, as we got nearer, we saw an old lady with a handicapped parking tag dangling from her rear view mirror pull up to the building. She drove right past the empty spots next to the door and parked in the handicapped spot. Then she got out of her vehicle and hobbled slowly past all the closer (still empty) parking spots, into the store.

Does she think that she has to park in the blue spots because she has the tag?

What idiots are responsible for the placement of the handicapped placard?

Are they trying to indicate that handicapped people need to use the back door?

Are they trying to give handicapped people more exercise, thus helping them recover more quickly?

What?

Brezny's advice for Sagittarians

SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): "Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth," says Ishmael in Herman Melville's novel Moby Dick, "whenever it is damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses . . . it [is] high time to get to the sea as soon as I can." Use this passage as an inspirational kick-in-the-ass, Sagittarius. There's no need for you to sink into the emotional abyss Ishmael describes. Fix yourself before you're broken! Get to the sea immediately, and prevent the grey glumness from taking over. If there's no ocean nearby, then try the next best things: Walk along a river or lake. Immerse yourself for long stretches in baths and saunas and heated pools. Cry and sweat and come abundantly. Listen to music that makes you feel like you're floating.

A perfectly dreary day

It's Thursday. It's rainy and dank and the world outside the cottage is plastered with sodden, recently unemployed leaves. I have exactly three more days of complete freedom until I start my new job, which is why I am vegetating in front of my computer in my robe with a cup of coffee right now, instead of cleaning the house or taking a shower. On days like this, the mere thought of trying to make a decision about which of those things needs to be done first is enough to send me back to bed for a nap.

Although I am sorry that my job at the vineyard had to end on a sour note due to my employers' complete abandonment of courtesy, respect, and reasonable thinking, I must admit that the pressure I was working under while I was there took more of a toll on me than I realized. Having to walk on eggshells around emotionally unstable people just because they sign your paycheck is something akin to codependency, and it wears a person out.

I have been sleeping like a log every night since I left the vineyard, whereas while I was working there I would wake up several times a night and just stare at the ceiling, not knowing why I was awake. It's like my body is trying to recapture the balance and the peace that was sapped away while I was working there.

It's unfortunate, really, because the vineyard itself is so lovely, and since the business is rather small it's not all that difficult to run - it could be such a wonderful place to work. But, alas, the bullying and game playing just sucked all the joy out of it.

So, it's onward and upward. But for now I am reveling in an absolute absence of urgency, a relaxation cousining laziness, and the cavelike ambiance of this dark November day.

This is not what you want to find out first thing in the morning

Thanks to this website, I just found out that on the day that I was born, the following song was number one on the charts.

This explains so much.

No, I didn't VOTE! - and here's why

1. Angelina Jolie wasn't on the ballot.

2. I believe that the word "freedom" means you have the right to choose or NOT to choose, if you don't like the choices being offered.

3. Angelina Jolie wasn't on the ballot.

4. I didn't realize that you had to be registered 30 days prior to election day in order to be eligible to vote.

5. Angelina Jolie wasn't on the ballot.

6. I was too busy eating a large Italian hero with barbecue kettle chips and planning my new health and fitness regimen in which I will get up early every morning and do yoga, give up carb-laden foods, and ban sugary drinks from my... excuse me, I have to go get a Coke.

7. Angelina Jolie wasn't on the ballot.

8. I took my husband to the local polling place, and this is what the line of people ahead of us looked like. I wished him luck and got the hell out of there.

9. Angelina Jolie wasn't on the ballot.

10. I enjoy pissing people off.

11. Angelina Jolie wasn't on the ballot.

12. No matter who gets elected, we're going to like some of the stuff they do and hate some of the stuff they do and the world will go on and on and on... until it doesn't. There is no magic pill, there is no perfect president.

13. Angelina Jolie wasn't on the ballot.

Everything happens all at once - Marcheline implodes

This is a picture. Not of what I look like, but of what I need to BE like. I need to be strong and fearless. I need to be unconcerned when gruesome things attach themselves to my shoulders. I need to be impervious to flimsy garments and strong wind, and to remain unrattled by strange piercings and illegible markings across my chest.

I got stung in the chest by a bee yesterday, and my stupid employers not only neglected to care about or even acknowledge my predicament, they promptly set me the task of pulling out weeds IN THE MIDDLE OF A PATCH OF POISON IVY. Thank you very much.

Yes, this is how Marcheline's week has been going. Come along for the ride, if you have the stomach for it.

In better news, I got word from a newer! bigger! better! employer that my start date is this coming Monday. I am mostly looking forward to this new job, and am only slightly terrified because it will involve intensive training and learning scads of new and technical information which I am afraid my dessicated brain may not be able to latch onto in a timely manner.

In worse news, Bear's company "downsized" and he is now looking for a job.

Do you see why I am Miss Clairol's best customer? DO YOU SEE?!?!?!?!

I was going to actually go out and vote this year, for the first time in forty-one years, but I found out that you can't actually register to vote the same day you go to vote. It has to be done thirty days in advance. So- whichever lying bastard gets voted in this time, it won't be my fault.

Part of getting this fancy new job is going online and reading a bunch of Really Important Rules and Totally Imperative Regulations and Statutes and Making Promises to Do and Not Do lots of Super Important Stuff, all of which requires an Adobe reader because all of said documents are in PDF format.

So my computer decides to pick today to let me know that my Adobe PDF reader needs to be "updated". And requests that I click the "OK" button to update. Upon doing so, the computer informs me that some required file is missing and/or corrupted on my computer (yay! I love multiple choice!), and says that I cannot update. And then tells me that I also cannot return to using my previous version of Adobe.

Which means I am SOL and now must use Bear's computer to read all of the aforementioned really important stuff for my new job.

Which irks the crap out of me and makes me feel like punching huge holes in the sheetrock even though I do not possess the required gene composition to make that in any way a normal reaction.