Fondly Geekish!

2003-08-13T23:04:00.000-05:00

Matt needs a shower.

Yes, folks, I'm on crack. :-) Anyway, my new site address. *insert drum roll here* ... MILK RING! There's not much there right now, but that will soon be changing. So buhbye blogger. Catch my posts over at my new joint. Ciao!

2003-08-10T16:17:00.000-05:00

There's no place like home, there's no place like home...

So, I snagged my own domain today. It should be set up in a couple of days, I would imagine. I'll fill you in on the details once it's good to go.

2003-08-09T11:26:00.000-05:00

M. O. U. S. E.

Are you a web addict? The challenge for health care professionals is to determine when high Internet use is dysfunctional, and whether unhealthy Internet use is a lone disorder or a byproduct of other disorders, such as manic depression. In a related article, University of Florida scientists came up with the acronym MOUSE:

More than intended time spent online

Other responsibilities neglected

Unsuccessful attempts to cut down

Significant relationship discord because of use

Excessive thoughts or anxiety when not online

Volunteers who called themselves problematic Internet users had, on average, five pre-existing psychiatric problems, such as bipolar disorder, depression or alcohol abuse, he said. Additionally, they were online more than 30 hours per week, and their nonessential Internet use was 10 times greater than their essential use, such as job- and school-related activities.

But not everyone believes high Internet usage is bad."Its very useful for some people to spend high amounts of time on the Internet for work, school and recreation," said Jeffrey I. Cole, director of the University of California, Los Angeles Center for Communications Policy. More research is needed to determine whether Internet addiction should be a separate listing in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, which is considered the standard for psychiatric diagnoses in the United States, or whether problematic Internet use should fall under the umbrella of impulse control disorders, such as pathological gambling.

If they're going to actually consider implementing this as yet another disorder thrown onto the pile of excuses for disorders, they need to throw 'stupidity' on there, as well. I'd know a lot of sick people. Just my two cents. *plinkplink*

2003-08-08T14:31:00.000-05:00

All this for a pair of stirrups?

I'm flipping through my health insurance book. Because I signed up under the HMO plan, I have to choose a primary health care physician. No big deal. At least I thought. They sent me this book, and I chose Dr. Biskup to be my primary. Oh, and it's not like this book really gives a history of these doctors. It's just a list of names. So, per Unicare's request, I called them. I get a representative on the phone, who assists me (or tries to) with choosing a doctor close to me. I tell her about Ms. Biskup. She asks me if I want Ms. Biskup as my OB/GYN, as well. No go. I want an actual gynocologist to look at my stuff. I go for the best, yo! She proceeds to give me a list of five wimmin doctors, but they're all really far away from me. Let's be honest. I'm not driving 30 miles to spread my legs.

So, we choose another primary doctor. Christine somebody. I'm given the name of a gynocologist by the name of Jacqueline. Jacqueline's a nice name. So. Yeah. Let's go with the big J. Final answer. Representative on the other end of my phone's like, "Oh." Now, keep in mind, this "Oh" was not a good "Oh." I'd been on my phone for 27:34 and counting, using all my daytime minutes just to be told, "Hmm. It appears as though Christine is actually practicing cardiovascular medicine now, so we'll have to choose another primary care physician." *sigh* So that means Jacqueline's out. Then the best part happened: We got disconnected.

Side note: Is it wrong that I'm choosing who I want to push metal objects inside me simply by their name? My choices were Maria Gonzales, Jacqueline Clayson, Elaine Chin, and a few others. It's not like I've been to these people before. My thought, though: . o O (Hmm. Jacqueline's a nice name. I've always liked that name. I bet she's nice. K, I won't mind her checking out my stuff. I'll choose her.) How the hell else am I supposed to choose? They all look at vaginas all day. I mean, they're complete strangers. And I know if I look at it from a medical standpoint, it isn't a huge deal. But it's still the thought that I'm going to disrobe, spread my legs, and let a complete stranger insert foreign objects into me that gets me. So. Got any other ideas, fill me in.

I call back, left my contact info, and I guess they're going to call me back. I anxiously await their call. Sure I do. Yep.

2003-08-06T21:20:00.000-05:00

All In a Day's Work

We went to the gym today. This will have been my first workout doing weights. Let's just say I can't feel my arms. No. Even that doesn't describe it. I went to take a swig of sweet delicious ice cold water and became dismayed when my arms wouldn't reach up to my mouth. They simply couldn't do it. Talk about feeling helpless. I looked like an idiot, bending my neck down to suckle on my bottled water. H2O, come to mama. After the torture I reigned on my arms, I walked 30 minutes on the treadmill. I tried to divert the gaze from the timer tick tick ticking down. They have TVs, but that doesn't grasp my attention. Pulsating techno blasting through my head? No go. I even stared at the girl's ass in front of me. I watched her punch in her weight. I think my right thigh weighs as much as she. Huh. She ran for 18:49 before she slowed to a breakneck pace, barely breaking a sweat, meanwhile, I feel bad for chickie next to me, who I probably gassed out with my pits and the high school boys behind me, drowning in my "perspiration". Heh. That's one thing Matt pointed out to me today. Women don't sweat, they "perspire." Really. Next time I go Niagara Falls, we'll see who sweats, baby! Cos I can sweat! *flex* I bet my BO can beat your BO, too. If my BO had a fight with your BO? Mine would win.

Wow. I was talking out loud, wasn't I?

2003-08-05T21:48:00.000-05:00

Are you a mobster?

Imagine this: YOU HAVE NEW MAIL. In one single click, you've got the message that's been waiting for you, nestled between a cheesy forward your grandma sent you and that Viagra spam. This is a special e-mail, though, because it contains instructions for you to follow, should you choose to do so. The message reads, "4pm. Sunday. Waterfront. At 4:12, squack like a duck, proclaim your pink panty/lawn gnome fancy to a passerby. Quickly flee the scene." So, what will it be? You in?

Arranged via websites and e-mails, flash mob members voluntarily and simultaneously converge to the venue mentioned in the e-mail. They partake in some silly and harmless activity, then disperse. The idea was originated by some guy named "Bill", who began the trend by e-mailing 50 people and asking them to gather at a shop in downtown Manhattan.

In one flash mob setting that took place a couple months ago, over 100 people assembled in the home furnishings section at Macy's. Per the instructions of the e-mail, folks consulted bemused sales assistants about purchasing a "love rug" for their "suburban commune." The concept has spread quickly across the U.S. and to Europe, Australia, and Singapore. The latest flash mob incident occurred at 6:01 p.m. on Friday in Berlin, where about 40 people in the middle of a busy street took out their mobile phones and shouted, "yes, yes!" and then applauded, according to The New York Times. The inexplicable nature and lack of apparent agenda seems to widen the appeal of flash mobs. Many Web logs, chat rooms and Web groups are devoted to the craze.

I look forward to seeing you at Olive Garden. August 11th, 6pm. Attire: pink bunny ears and a snowsuit. Simply look nutjob-ish and begin quoting something from "A Telltale Heart". I'll know it's you.

2003-08-04T20:29:00.000-05:00

Mmmm... Feesh...

About a year ago, I would have never thought I'd be putting raw fish in my mouth. Let me just tell you, fellow "grossed out by raw things" friends, it's not what you think. I am completely addicted to spicy tuna rolls (the small rolls on the right, on the black platter) and California rolls. I haven't worked my way up to eatting the big hunks of meat yet. I don't know that I will. I decided to post this picture to taunt Paul. Eat your heart out!

2003-08-02T17:43:00.000-05:00

Word to the wise

Cory Doctorow spoke at the Reboot 6 conference June 24th. His work is fascinating and he brings to attention examples of poor business models and why it is they fail, as many have done today in the online market. The business standpoint regarding certain aspects copyright laws is ridiculous, and something really should be done. You and I are paying for it every single day. Do you own a Nokia phone, by the way? If so, you may want to reconsider. Check out the video to find out why. FYI - The movie's about 73 MB, so it'll take a few. Definitely worth it, I promise.

Let me know what you think. I'd love to hear feedback regarding this issue.

2003-08-01T15:56:00.000-05:00

Hair 101

Matt decided to use my hair brush this morning, because he lost his comb over the weekend. Before he used it, though, he decided to pull out all my hair in the brush.

Fast forward to 3:21pm.

I'm playing Housewife, in one of my cleaning streak modes. I decide to tackle the bathroom sink. Armed with 409 in one hand, paper towel in the other, I spot a single strand of hair poking out from the drain. I pull, not knowing what hides below the stainless steel cap. Following the wee strand is this GIANT MASS of hair that ends up smacking me along the underside of my wrist. Feeling myself wretch, I quickly threw it in the toilet, watching it swirl to its death. Matt, knowing how grossed out I am by wads of wet hair, was sure to get a good chuckle out of this one. I fill him in on the horror. This is the convo that ensued:

jlshindley: I see a stray hair poking from the drain. I pull. This GIANT MASS of hair that's wet and stringy comes with it, twirling around my finger. I literally felt myself wretch.
matthewgifford: Yep.
matthewgifford: I did that this morning.
matthewgifford: From your brush.
matthewgifford: ;-)
jlshindley: Heh.
matthewgifford: Sorry.
jlshindley: You didn't throw the hair away?
matthewgifford: No.
matthewgifford: I put it in the sink.
matthewgifford: I'm a bad boy.
jlshindley: Oh good god.
jlshindley: Honey.
jlshindley: You tried to wash it down the sink?
matthewgifford: Yes, I did.
matthewgifford: I'm stupid.
matthewgifford: Stupid boys.
matthewgifford: Trying to put hair in the sink.

K. Boys? Don't put yer wimmin folk through this! Simply flush that gross wad-o-hair. Or throw it away. Maybe next time I'll decide to shave my wimminly goods in the sink and not rinse. Hey. I figure if I get to wrangle Mondo Hair Monster, someone should get to meet Pubey Princess, don't you? Teehee.

2003-07-31T22:18:00.000-05:00

"No thin for you!"

Matt and I joined the gym a couple of weeks ago, and went in for our fitness assessment tonight. I don't know if it's just a chick thing, but I, admittedly, was nervous. I guess I pictured a tribe of Barbies and Kens floating around and 4% Body Fat Trainer telling me something I already knew. This was a false assumption. It is also a false assumption to think, midway through, that perhaps you were wrong and they do have your best interest in mind, because after all, that is their job - it's also their job to make money.

Our trainer's name was Tess. Fairly young, pretty, fit - I was intimidated a little at first. It quickly washed away as she talked, reassuring me of things, making me feel comfortable. After the assessment, she began talking about her "concerns" that Matt might not be doing his workouts right when he used to lift. She suggested we do a personal training session to get familiarized with the equipment. That seemed fair enough. Who wants to be using the equipment wrong, or not working a certain group of muscles because you're doing the same exercises over and over again? She suggested we meet with "Kinga", a personal trainer from Poland about three times per week. You can see how quickly this escalates, right? We go from being shown how the equipment works to three times per week. I'm watching Tess calculate this up. She scribbles: 24 X 105 = $2520. Yeah. Sure. Lemme just dig that out of my change purse.

Matt and I do "the glance", and Matt speaks up. "That's just really out of my budget." This woman's face changes from I Care About You Losing Half Your Ass to smugville. Yes, folks, we have entered the beautiful realm of Salesmanship. She tried to get us every which way, at one point, advising us to put it on a credit card if we didn't have the cash, because "really. It will change our lives." You know, I'm sure it would. I don't doubt having a personal trainer is great, and my gut (haha) tells me if I had $2520 to throw around for an eight week/three times a week personal training session, I'd probably do it. After the G5. And after a new Mini . Heh. In all honesty, though, I can respect the fact part of your job includes sales. I can appreciate you describing benefits to me, even after I state I can't afford it. But it's when I'm honest with you, when I tell you flat out that it's beyond my budget, I just can't do it and you continue to harass me into "finding a way" to somehow finance Hans kicking my ass that pisses me off. I don't want to be made to feel like a piece of crap just because I don't fork out a small fortune for Hansy-poo. If I wasn't serious about it, dear Tessy, I wouldn't be paying well over average gym prices to work out.

I'd better not get any flack! My pushup test results indicate a "fair" marking. You. Me. Dark alley. Lessgo! *flex*

2003-07-30T17:09:00.000-05:00

Gin for Jenn

5X(Get up. Shower. Be at work by 8. Bust your ass. Leave at 5) = Work week

Recognize that? Cookie cutter of what most of us deal with, give or take some modifications to schedules, right? By the way, I think I found another perfect job - even more perfect than working for Google. How about boozing it up eight hours a day? Though I'm sure some of you are taking a swig right now, thinking . o O (What's changed?), folks at the Beverage Tasting Institute here in Chicago have made this a career.

BTI is an independent tasting agency made up of seven tasters. Combined, they have tasted over 8,000 wines, beers, and spirits per year. Taste tests take place in a controlled environment and drinks are carted out in numbered glasses. Ratings are mapped on a 100-point scale, and published on their website.
While the perks are obvious, employment at BTI entails some unique occupational hazards. "You should never taste more than 15 spirits or 30 to 40 beers in one day," warns BTI tasting director Jerald O'Kennard.

Where do I send my resume again?

2003-07-28T02:02:00.000-05:00

Update

It's late as hell. I'm tired but not tired enough. It's been about twenty-five minutes since I last posted. I wander into the living room, sprawl on the prettiest red sofa, pick up the latest Ikea mag, and begin flipping. I started in the kitchen section and made it to the bathroom section in two minutes flat. I catch my gaze floating from Gyno Man's exam table, i.e. brand new modern metal table with plant holders, to the back of Matt's head. I begin watching him work. I don't think he even knows I'm sitting in the same room. Maybe he thinks I went to bed already. Regardless, he's engrossed in his work. Hunkered over his laptop, he glances between his monitor and his Python book, head bopping once in awhile to whatever tune he's listening to via his headphones. I watch his feet tap a little to the music. I watch how he leans back in his chair, looks over his work, and continues typing once he's satisifed with what he sees. Watching him that little while made me realize how I am the most blessed woman ever in the "I have a boyfriend" department. I love the way he touches me when I first wake up, pulling me against him, whispering "Good morning, girlie." into my ear. I love how he caresses my hair when I cry. I love his laugh. He cocks his head back and lets 'er rip. I love when he does "the Gatts". I love how I can make him smile just by saying something sweet, even though he gets embarassed. I love when he gets embarassed. He looks like a little boy. I love his crazy hair. I love how he makes me feel safe. I love the thing he does with his arm to try and get under my pit when I resist. I love when he pouts. I love being able to console him. I love when he says "I win!" I love when he takes my hand in church. I love when he openly introduces me as his girlfriend to people. I love thinking about spending the rest of my life with him. I love everything about him. And I'm the luckiest girl in the world. Thanks, baby.

2003-07-28T01:25:00.000-05:00

Squeegee kids and Eulogies

I am obsessed with Montreal. We're at a wedding, where I met some of Matt's good friends. This guy in particular, Garrett, currently lives and works in Montreal. He translates French and German for some company up there. Hearing him speak French over crappy Steak and Shake fries pretty much cinched the deal. About eight months ago, I picked up a French learning package . The whole point of it was to listen to it while I was in Hell hitting "Enter Enter Enter Shift+F8 Enter Tab all day, asborb, and come out speaking le francais. Apparently, I didn't read the box properly before I purchased it. The guy on the cd says random words, which is okay, I guess, but it doesn't tell you what to expect before he starts speaking. He'll just launch into an assault of verbs, common French names, and phrases like "Lavons-nous!" Long story short? Gotta follow along with the book or the cd won't make sense. Perhaps tomorrow while on the road I'll pop that cd in and force Matt to listen to me talk about the time, weather, and counting to ten in my favourite language.

Tomorrow, we begin our jaunt to Iowa. Grandpa's funeral is Tuesday. I've already said my peace, and admittedly, I'm kind of scared to go to this funeral. I hate them. I don't want to remember him laying in some overpriced box that's going to deteriorate in a few years. There goes five grand. I'm afraid of what he'll look like. I'm afraid of that image sticking in my mind. I'm afraid I won't know what to say to a shell of a man. That isn't grandpa anymore, he's gone. It's just a body. His body that he once occupied. What scares me, though, is not being able to come up with words to comfort. I don't know the reactions of people. I can't guage what it will be like with my family, mainly because this is the first death we've really had that had much impact on everyone as a whole. I know everything will be alright. Nerves, you know? C'est la vie.

Maybe I'll picture everyone naked. That'll stop the tears. Oops. I just tasted my cousin's left nipple. No tears here. Dude I've never met in the left pew just touched my inner thigh while the boyfriend whispered something about snowsuits, nylon, and dark chocolate sauce. Let's get this show on the road.

2003-07-25T14:05:00.000-05:00

I was going to bitch about copyright laws. I was going to tell you how wonderful the movie "Life Is Beautiful" is. I was going to tell you about ridiculous corporate policies at my workplace. Then my cell phone rang, and it was my sister, informing me my grandpa died at 12:45 this afternoon. One hour and fifteen minutes ago. You'd think I would have prepared myself for the inevitable. He was diagnosed with liver cancer a month or so back. Originally, doctors thought he would live 6-9 more months. Then it dropped to three months. Then it was within a week. And here we are, Friday afternoon. And he died. You'd think I'd feel better since he knows that I love him. I made sure of that when I had my visit with him Independence Day weekend. I suppose you'd think a lot of things. But I wasn't prepared. I'm not ready. I wish he was still here, talking about riding lawn mowers, fishing, and telling me old stories of when he used to teach. That was my grandpa. He had a laugh that made the room light up. My sister and I loved it. I can still hear it. We used to sit and play Uno in their camper when they used to come and visit. We'd go fishing together, and he'd fall asleep in the back of the boat, his mouth half open. My sister and I used to giggle. I'm hoping he's in a better place. I wish my faith was strong enough to say I knew for sure. That's not the point. The point is, I want you to know what a wonderful man he was. I want you to know that he made a difference in a lot of people's lives. Grandpa, I'll miss you more than you'll ever know. I'll love you always and forever.

In Loving Memory of my grandpa, S. Forrest Harbough

2003-07-22T23:19:00.000-05:00

Blur

This last weekend was some of the most fun I had in awhile, and I've been meaning to tell you about it, but have just now only found the time. I know, I'm a wench. I've been neglecting you. It will never happen again!

My sister flew in this past weekend for her 23rd birthday. She's never been to a big city before, so Matt and I decided to give her the grand ol' tour. The fun began Thursday night. We spent it at O'Hare pacing about, watching the flight arrival monitors. What was supposed to be a 70 minute flight turned into 3.5 hours. Gotta love crazy midwest weather. So, it's nearly 10pm and we're ready to consume third world countries. We head over to Chevy's and eat some texmex. Mmm. Cheeveez... Went to bed about 2am.

We hit the mall Friday, got our shop on (By hour three, I think Matt was ready to sling my sister and I over his shoulders and escape the wrath-o-women-and-their-clothes). Snagging myself some nifty new threads, I decided to wear some new getup out that night. We had bought weekend passes for the train and headed downtown, into the madness. We skipped from dimly lit bar to Irish pub to loud bar to dance club. At this point, yours truly was pretty lit. Well, me and my sister both. We wound up at some joint called John Barley Corn . Yeah, I know. Sounds vaguely hickish? The only thing hick about this joint was the fact it sort of resembled a barn on the inside. The music, however, was mostly hip hop and stuff you could shake your arse to. My sister was pretty disappointed when we had to leave at 1:45am to get back to the train. For some reason, the trains in Chicago don't like running terribly late. On the train ride back, my sister in all her drunken glory, amused most of the train by repeating she was from Kansas and she was 23 about eighteen thousand times. She carried a pretty interesting convo with Red Head HR Girl that worked at a hospital. You see, my sister's a nurse. She's already graduated and is a full-fledged RN (w00t! much luv! heh.) but as I'm resting my head against the cool window, I hear her talking about some program she's in for two more years (Uh. what?) and how their HR department isn't funded well enough so the nurses just kind of... "own"... HR. Yeah. I was busting a gut listening to her carry on. Red Head HR Girl bought it though, continuing on with the convo. I fell asleep on the car ride home and was woken up by my sister cursing Sprint PCS about fifteen times. Literally. Seems the network was down, and she'd be okay with not checking it for a minute. The next thing you hear is her dialing up, followed by SON OF A B-.... You gotta me KIDDING MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. NIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICE." Hearing her say this is classic. Despite my being exhausted, I still giggled heartily!

Saturday we got up bright and early (draggin' ass at this point, btw. Running on about 8 hours of sleep combined in two days) and headed downtown again. We meandered around downtown a bit, and happened across Union Station.
(Movie Triv: Goodfellas was shot there!) After Union Station, we hopped a cab. K, the stories you hear about Pakistani cabbies stinkin? Oh good god is that ever true. At least this one. I don't think I have any scilia left in my nostrils. Anyway, we hit Gino's East. Ever have a five inch thick slab of pie? No? Hit that joint. You can actually get their pizza shipped to you. Be nice to me. You may get your wish. We hit The Sears Tower next. Note to self: Never go to the Sears Tower at 2pm on a Sunday. We waited three and a half hours. Once we got up there, though, wow. Unbelievable! I must've circled the 106th floor eighteen thousand times, trying to get the best views in the house. Ever seen this before? Apparently you drive your boat on home. After standing in line for three and a half hours, we decided to be brave and hit the Magnificent Mile. Hit the cab, drove back home. Oh. Went out to eat at Olive Garden somewhere around 10:30pm, and they were out of my cheesecake. Bastards. Went home. Slept.

Sunday, we went to Mass. My sister seemed to enjoy it okay. She ended up leaving that afternoon. I really miss her. Seems we've gotten a lot closer since we've both grown up and have our own lives.

Anyway, yeah. Bout this neglecting thing. I suck. I've been crazy busy. It seems my life's just kind of... taken off? Busy every day after work, plans here and there... I can't wait until things slow down. I need a breather. So. How're you guys? Fill me in on the goss.

2003-07-18T17:15:00.000-05:00

Can I get a woot-woot?

"Hasn't anyone told you that your woe-some story of personal tragedy went out with the Cure in the 80's? Don't flatter yourself or your intelligence...someone Just Like You gets added to my "Totally Disinterested" list every day. Chin up, and recognize the beauty of the world Outside your own sphere."

I rather like that quote.

2003-07-13T22:39:00.000-05:00

Why is it that weekends go by so fast? I've been trying to think of things to do during the work week, but by the time I leave work, I'm exhausted and want to do nothing but veg.

This weekend was so much fun. Saturday, Matt and I went on a Mini Cooper drive. Admittedly, when he first told me about these drives, I wasn't sure what to think. How could driving around in a big line with other Mini Cooper drivers for a few hours be fun? Man, was I ever wrong. We were downtown Chicago just outside the Adler Planetarium along the lakefront bright and early at 8am. Hanging around for about 45 minutes before everyone else got there allowed me to meet some people, including a nice girl named Amy. She had a blue mini and absolutely _loved_ hers. After getting to ride passenger in Matt's, I almost know how she feels (I can't drive a stick yet, so I don't have the full blown experience under my belt). At last count, there were about 24 Minis that showed up for this event. We started out downtown, made our way along Lakeshore Drive (I got to see where Oprah Winfrey supposedly has an apartment!) into downtown, and made our way through a suburb just north of the city, where we got to see "Cameron" 's home in Ferris Bueler's Day Off. Rumour had it the Home Alone house was in that area, as well, but we couldn't spot it. Some other houses of interest in that area included sprawling palaces designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. The most fun out of the trip, I think, was how famous I felt. People would stare at us, clap, cheer as we drove by, grin really big, ask questions - it was just a fun experience. A lot of people think the cars are neat because of the movie "The Italian Job" that has a really neat Mini chase scene.

After all the glamour and glitz, we ended up at a pizza place, where much conversation about lizards, turtles, their diet, and of course, Mini's ensued. After lunch, everyone dispersed, going back to their own weekend plans.

The next event is scheduled to take place in September, where we plan to drive up to a baseball game in Milwaukee. Nothing like a tailgating party Mini-style!

2003-07-13T21:03:00.000-05:00

Interesting Soccer Shootout Conundrum!

All week, we've been seeing these previews on TV for a new gameshow that looked like a mix between Jackass and Engrish . We finally saw it tonight. Absolutely hysterical! It's dorky, mean, and completely retarded. We loved it!

How many helium balloons does it take to make a chicken float?

a.) 30
b.) 60
c.) 120

VOTE NOW! BANZAI!

2003-07-11T23:27:00.000-05:00

Mmm.... Fork?

A 32-year-old Jerusalem woman apparently finds cockroaches nummy, because she swallowed one. After she swallowed it, she tried digging it out of her throat with picnicware! Lovely idea, ain't it? But it gets better. While trying to scrape the critter out of her throat, she lost grip of the plastic fork and ingested it.

"It's a bit of a strange story," said Dr. Nikola Adid, who operated on the woman on Tuesday to remove the fork from her stomach -- the bug was already digested. "This is the first time I've ever encountered anything like this. None of my medical colleagues in this country have heard of anything similar either.

The woman is recovering well, Adid said -- better off than the old woman of the children's rhyme:

"There was an old woman who swallowed a fly. I don't know why she swallowed a fly. Perhaps she'll die."

Heh. That rhymes. I'll go lay by the bay, maybe eat some hay - I just may! What do you say? Good lord, I'm a dork. :)

2003-07-10T23:43:00.000-05:00

Another win for THE MAN

"We are committed to improving the quality of life in the communities where we live and work. We consider ourselves in partnership with our employees and our communities, working toward an environment that enhances the quality of life for everyone."

The above referenced is taken from the mission statement of my current employer and can be read in full, if you wish to do so. I'd recommend it if your one to believe everything your employer tells you about how you work for a great company that provides the community services, one who is looking for a long lasting relationship with their valued employees, etc. The list goes on. I, however, am not one of those people, and I'm sure you're not, either. Here's what happened to me today. Before I do that, though, I want to tell you a little history.

I started with Household International (now HSBC) in April of 2001. Having worked from that point up until recently with Credit Card Services, I transferred within the company to take a new position with Household Finance. I started work June 16th, given a handsome pay raise, and looked forward to this new challenge. Here's where the problem begins.

First and foremost, on my first day, I was told by Maureen (the woman who hired me), that there were "some changes made" and that I was going to go to Holly's team, since her team basically did the same thing Maureen's did, but she needed more people. No big deal, right? I wasn't concerned about this.

We got paid that next Friday, June 27th. If you have direct deposit, you are able to jump into the system and view your paycheck the day before it is deposited. So, the day before payday, I popped onto the system briefly and noticed I was still getting paid at my old rate. I immediately told Holly, my "supervisor" (I say it like that because she's not really a supervisor. She's a lead. My real supervisor's name is Sherese, and I have yet to meet her because she's out on maternity leave), and I am told that I should go talk to Maureen. Why would I need to go talk to Maureen? She's not my boss. Holly is, supposedly. So I talk to Maureen. She advised me she would talk to payroll and find out what's up. Come to find out, my "Change of Status" form was never submitted. Maureen assured me the week of 6/16-6/20 (retro pay) plus current would be on my next check, all forms are in, we're good to go, etc.

Today comes, which is the day before payday. I pop into the system. Guess what. Old pay. I immediately go to Holly. At this point, I don't know why I bother. She never knows anything and just refers me to someone else, not even helping me try and work any of this out. I go to Maureen, the woman who told me she'd filled out all the forms and that things were taken care of. The conversation went something like this:

Me: My paycheck's still messed up. It's still showing my old pay rate.

Her: Yeah, it takes awhile.

Me: *blink* Yeah. You did say things were going to be all on this check.

Her: Hmm. When did you start again? The 30th?

Me: No. The 16th.

Her: Huh. I thought it was the 30th. Well. When we submit the forms for a change of status, we have to put down a date that starts on a new pay period. So your higher pay will actually start Monday, the 23rd, since it was the beginning of a new pay period.

Me: How's that work? I started on the 16th.

Her: The form would only let us put in the beginning pay period date.

Me: So? I started on the 16th. I'll get paid at the rate we agreed on starting the 16th, because that's when I started working here.

Her: Well, I don't know how that's going to work, because you were tied in to another cost center.

Me: I don't know, either, but it needs to be worked out. These forms should have been filled out.

Her: I'll work it out. Don't worry. You know I'll get this done. I'll keep you informed.

So I leave her cube, thoroughly pissed off. I decide I'm going to go talk to HR. After all, they are supposed to help you, right? I go talk to Kelly, my HR rep. She tells me she can't really assist me because she's just "filling in" and she doesn't know how to handle my payroll questions. I'm then told to go talk to Rick. Rick doesn't get in until 9. At 9, I plop down in his office. I explained the situation to him, including that this has been going on for a month now, I should get paid my full amount plus retro pay on tomorrow's check. He advises me that forms can take "a little while" to be completed, usually up to a week. At this point, I realize he hasn't heard anything I've said. I told him "A week, perhaps. I've been employed at this site since June 16th. It's been four weeks." He didn't have much to say to that, only that he'll contact payroll and try and get things straightened out.

I go back to my desk, try and do some work, to no avail. My mind kept wandering to all this ridiculousness, not to mention Matt being upset by all this, advising me we should get a lawyer if no one can give me straight answers as to when I'll get paid. About that time, I receive an e-mail from Maureen. She'd heard back from payroll. Here is an excerpt from that e-mail:

Jennifer,

I talked to payroll,,,they did rcv the form to change your
hourly rate, however, the form has to be approved by Anne Marie Fiore in HR>
I have sent a note to her advising she needs to sign off on this ......
I asked payroll how that would work then,,,was advised the pay would be

retroactive from the date on the form (16th) and that it would be in
your next check.

Should I receive a response from HR I will let you know, otherwise you
can assume it is taken care of, thanks! Maureen

I thought all forms were filled out three weeks ago? Taken care of like last time? That's what I was told. So, I jot one back:

Maureen,

Is there no way I can get this paid to me in tomorrow's check? The money hasn't been deposited into my account yet.

I never heard back. Meanwhile, I'd sent Rick in HR a couple e-mails asking if he'd heard anything from payroll. Never got a response back, either. So I call him. He answers on the first ring. He reiterated what Maureen's e-mail said. I told him I needed everything on this check, or a check cut to me for the remainder I'm out (which, at this point, is around $500). I was advised that because payroll had already booked the check, they couldn't do it until next pay period. This is crap, on many counts, the important ones including the fact that the funds aren't even sent to my bank until midnight tonight; also because I know a lot of what was said between Rick and I because re-figuring a paycheck due to someone's screw up costs the company $60 a pop. So, they'd rather me suffer yet another pay period without my money so they don't have to own up to their mistake. No, I'm not shocked.

When I didn't hear anything from Maureen or HR Rick, I went to another supervisor named Chris. I explained, once again, the whole story to Chris. Chris, however, gets it. Chris understands how I feel and commented about how he would have been livid and how did I stay so calm? "It's growing harder," I said. He advised me he would be talking to Rick himself, and if it can't get resolved that way, he'll talk to Anne Marie, the woman who needs to sign off on my pay raise. This is where we're at to date, my friends. Week four and counting; still no correct pay. It's a $3.71/hr difference. You do the math.

It sickens me that my company brags about being there to help people, yet we charge them outrageous interest rates, gouging them for every penny they're worth, otherwise known as predatory lending. As a matter of fact, my company settled a court battle for $886 million just last year because of predatory lending accusations. Guess what we were told: "Oh, well, we weren't officially charged with it, we just decided to settle."

I am convinced the days of Company Care are over. Well, I shouldn't say that. There are some, I suppose. But when you're involved in a company that is run solely on numbers, nothing matters to them. Not you, not me, not anyone. Man, I miss the good ol' days.

2003-07-08T21:37:00.000-05:00

An unusually cool breeze and the smell of rain inspired me to make a yummy salad I've been meaning to try. Tons of tomatoes and fresh basil make this dish the very definition of an Italian summer on a plate! Incredibly robust, this dish is not only extremely flavourful, but is also very quick and easy to prepare. It's definitely amongst the top ten summer yummies on my list.

Here is the recipe. Lemme know what you think!

2003-07-07T23:52:00.000-05:00

Out of all the pictures I took on my mini vacation this past weekend, this one is my favourite. Grandma and Grandpa's yard has always been a giant green blanket of beauty.

My weekend was much needed, as I got to see my dad, sister, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. The weekend was a great getaway, filled with fireworks, lightning bugs, grilled foods, billiards, and beautiful sunsets. I didn't want to come home so soon.

On a totally unrelated note, I'll be getting my very own web presence soon, and need some ideas for a domain name. I've had 'shindley.com' suggested. What do you think?

2003-07-04T10:38:00.000-05:00

Lazy days

We are going to Iowa this Independence Day weekend. As Matt packs hurriedly, I thought I would take a sec and wish you all a happy Fourth (for those of you who celebrate it, anyway!). Be safe, have fun, you know the drill. As for me, I plan to visit family I haven't seen in ages and eat lots of yummy potato salad. See you when I get back!

2003-07-03T17:06:00.000-05:00

Justice is served

So I get a new e-mail notification. I'm stoked. Excited. You get new mail, you want to know what it is, and expect something halfway interesting.

What I see:

Sexual problems? VIAGRA CAN HELP!

XXX Barely legal!

How to make FA$T CA$H INSTANTLY!!!!!!!

Gets old, doesn't it? I don't sign up for this junk, yet there it sits in my inbox, just waiting to be opened. An e-mail spam operation that promised people cash for stuffing envelopes at home has been ordered to pay out nearly $200,000 to settle federal charges that it deceived customers. Basically, the consumers that fell for this scam would pay a $40 fee to receive pre-stamped pre-address envelopes under the assumption they would earn $2 per stuffed envelope. Trouble is, they never received their envelopes.

Consumers who paid for the "business opportunity" with http://www.stuffingforcash.com, Sound Publications, or Mailmax, but did not receive promised supplies or income can file a complaint form with the Federal Trade Commission . Make sure you provide proof you were a victim.

Sadly, this happens all too often. Having investigated dispute claims for a major credit card company, I saw this every day, and often times, there wasn't much I could do to help the consumer. Matt had something interesting happen to him recently, as well. This story is appalling. I'm just glad to see something's finally being done about it. Of course, I think people need to be a little more leary before giving out their financial information so freely.

2003-07-03T14:27:00.000-05:00

Free gourmet meal, anyone? How about a massage?

Work for Google! They're hiring, you know. They want folks that have a passion for publishing blogs. Requirements? HTML, CSS, ftp, and personal web hosting is a must. Know how to talk, and of course, e-mail since you'd be e-mailing customers regarding their issues. If you've kept a journal for six months or more, I suggest you contact them. The perfect job, indeed.

Oh, almost forgot. Be sure to include New Programs Coordinator (Blogger) as the subject line of your e-mail.

2003-07-02T20:22:00.000-05:00

How do you like your Big Brother?

A new camera project dubbed Combat Zones That See, makes me a little nervous. The project is intended to help military protect troops fighting in cities overseas, but some say it could easily be adapted to keep tabs on us little folk. The project's centerpiece would be groundbreaking computer software capable of automatically identifying vehicles by size, color, shape and license tag, or drivers and passengers by face. This software could also provide instant alerts, should it detect a vehicle with a license plate on a watchlist, or search months of records to locate and compare vehicles spotted near terrorist attacks. I'm all about security, but we're taking this a little too far, don't you think? Cameras everywhere, military standing guard at national landmarks? A giant 747 coming at you 300 mph isn't going to stop because you have a gun and cammo pants. Where's the line? I think we stepped over it a long time ago.

2003-07-02T19:48:00.000-05:00

Hear me roar! Well...not quite.

audblog audio post

2003-07-02T14:37:00.000-05:00

Bienvenue!

Welcome to Jenn, in a nutshell. This site's fairly new to me, so there will likely be some changes in layout, style, etc. If you have any suggestions, please feel free to let me know.