Worth the kink in my neck.
|Current location of Alaska.|
HT: Dave Barry, my bud.
3. Tim, who has been burning the midnight oil, to Kolbe: I remember when I was young and carefree like you.
4. Kolbe, quoting Rhett and Link on how to vet a wife: Ask about her favorite movie. If she says 2001: A Space Odyssey, Spaceballs, or any other film with the word "space" in the title, marry her immediately.
5. In an effort to put into practice some of the pointers in Putting Your Best Foot Forward, I did a chemical peel the other day. If you are interested in smoothing out your complexion and embarking on a chemical peel, please keep in mind two words: chemical and peel. I'm fairly certain the pesky problem I was attempting to fix is gone, but so are patches of my face.
6. Various technological devices under my roof can predict with uncanny precision just how much of a hurry I am in. Anticipating a dramatic and highly entertaining whine-fest, they act up accordingly. The night before last, when Tim was in the final stretch of a chemistry power point presentation, the printer, known hereafter as Printer, pumped out slide after slide until all came to a grinding halt, and Tim muttered something about ink cartridges and shuffled off to bed.
I go to the next room where we store computer supplies and dig through a tub full of ink cartridges. And the tub is in a dark, poorly lighted closet, and so I go in search of the handy glasses and flashlight only to find that not one of the packages bears the word Cyan. And so back to the computer I go to Google Cyan so that I can figure out if Yellow is Cyan or if Blue is Cyan. I'm sure everyone reading this is scratching their heads wondering how someone can get this far in life and not understand that Cyan is, in fact, Blue (as Google so helpfully informed me). Why Blue is not called, hmmm, Blue, I do not know. No one asked for my input. I slap Cyan into the slot marked Cyan, close the printer, grab my specs and my flashlight once again, and peer into the error message screen. Did you change a cartridge, Printer asks and helpfully offers three responses:
Press 1 for YesKidding, kidding. Printer never swears. Printer leaves that to me.
Press 2 for Yes, #$@&% it!
Press 3 for Cancel
I press 1, and Printer purrs to life . . . and starts printing page one of Tim's thirty-three page power point presentation.
You know, killing a print job should be easy. Oh, yes, it should. But then again, Red should be Red, and Blue should be Blue. Sadly, we don't live in a just, equitable, or logical world. I figure out how to halt the process somewhere around page twenty-two or twenty-five. Ainsley and John will have months of scrap paper for water colors and pirate maps! Producers of pulp paper and ink cartridges -- those would be the fine folks who dreamed up Cyan and Magenta -- are looking forward to a good quarter. Oh, how they love Science Fairs, 10th grade power point presentations, and challenged individuals like me who don't know their Cyan from their Jaune and can't manage to kill a print job without a loaded firearm.
7. Head over to Jen's to add your Quick Takes.