Going Around In Circles
Hello World,
Happy New Year! Unlike many other cultures, Americans don't give their years names, like animals or mythological figures, so I can't wish you a Happy Year of the Water Buffalo or a Happy Year of the Squid or even a Happy Year of the Cyclops, and more's the pity, I'm sure. No, in this country, we tend to lay back and take things as they come, and just let the cruel hand of fate sneak up on us and do what it will. I mean, if you were going to give names to years, and you found yourself coming up on the Year of the Toilet, at least you'd know what to expect, right? So the best I can do is wish everyone out there a very Happy 2007, and after that, you're on your own.
This has certainly been an eventful week for comings and goings, seeing the end of Presidents, dictators and Godfathers. (Of soul, that is, because Papa's Got A Brand New Harp!) Violating the "comedy rule of three," one of our cats also decided to jump aboard that bandwagon and shake off this mortal coil, no doubt angering the Comedy Gods, and frankly, we weren't all that thrilled with it either. In the spirit of community relations, we made our mechanic happy by de-commissioning the Tempo at long last, in a move applauded by those shallow and captious individuals who prize safety over sentimentality, and don't think that I don't know who you are. So this has been anything but the "same old, same old" around here lately, which is about all you can expect when the time comes to ring out the old and ring in the new.
Speaking of which, I couldn't help but notice a large feature story in the Wheels section of our local newspaper about the 2007 Chrysler Sebring, with this opening salvo in giant type: "Taking the desire to be different in a whole new direction, Chrysler style." You can imagine my surprise, then, to find this blaring announcement accompanied by a picture of the world's most mundane little silver doorstop with four doors and a spoiler. Naturally, I assumed that this was some sort of mistake, or perhaps an ironic commentary on the sad state of automotive design, but it appeared to be neither. The article begins with this fulsome praise: "It's new and it's definitely different. Daimler Chrysler has once again shunned convention by creating a new sedan with rule-breaking looks." Here's where I'm thinking, that is, except for the part where it's a little silver doorstop with four doors and a spoiler, and it looks like every other car that's out there nowadays. It continues: "The inspiration for the '07 Sebring's sheetmetal comes from a variety of sources. The front clip and the hood appear inspired by the company's Crossfire two-seat sports car, while the side view is reminiscent of the Dodge division's compact Caliber. It's only when the rear end comes into focus that you'll find a slight relationship with the outgoing model. Taken in total, this mosaic of shapes moves the Sebring far apart from the regulation cookie-cutter styling that proliferates the sedan ranks." (!!!) (!!!!!) So it doesn't have cookie-cutter styling, apart from the fact that it looks like three of their other cars. This is the point at which I'm shaking my head and wondering if this isn't some kind of a sick joke, then I must be the one going crazy. Just when you think it can't possibly get any worse, they wrap up with this classic clincher: "Without a doubt, Daimler Chrysler has taken a bit of a gamble with the Sebring's edgy styling that, for some buyers, could take some getting used to." Oh, I give up! Nurse, please have those nice young men in the white coats just cart me away. Preferably in a little silver doorstop with four doors and a spoiler, if you please.
The day after Christmas, I had to go in to work briefly to finish the payroll for the weekend staff, and was greeted with the sight of the chimney covered in a bright blue plastic tarp, and the area beneath it roped off with yellow tape. So it should be interesting times ahead in the courtyard, I'm thinking, as that chimney demolition and reconstruction project gets underway, to the delight of hospital employees and visitors alike. I was just thinking that there's been way too much productivity lately at work, and this should certainly slow things down to a crawl.
Speaking of work, yesterday morning I was accosted by a woman driving past the lot where I park (or, "the boondocks" as we call it) and away from the hospital, asking me how to find the main entrance. Because she was already going in the wrong direction, not to mention out in the boonies, which is rife with one-way streets all handily pointing away from the hospital, I could think of no easy way to direct her there, except by getting in the car with her and showing her the way. So I climbed in and brought her safely to the front doors, where we disembarked after a successful landing. She thanked me profusely, explaining that if she seemed flustered, it was because she was anxious, being that she was late for a stress test. Perhaps you have to work in health care to find that sort of irony amusing, but it made both of us laugh out loud.
Everyone already knows what I think of short weeks at work, and this was a textbook example of one, in spades. Today I had to attend a meeting in the morning, and when I got back to my office, I simply couldn't get out of my own way and back on track. Adding insult to injury was a series of phone calls that began with the nice lady calling from the animal hospital, who began, "I hate to bother you at work." I assured her that she was not bothering me, and was able to help her with her inquiry. Then I got a call from the accountant that we use at church, who also said she hated to bother me at work, and I assured her likewise that she was not bothering me. Finally, the Pastor also called me and said he hated to bother me at work, and while I also assured him that he was not bothering me, I admit that at this point, I did it through clenched teeth. The way things were going, I figured that the next person who called and said they hated to bother me at work, I would just yell, "GOOD!" and hang up on them. Now you can go bother someone else, after all, I'm sure there's plenty of bother to go around.
Of course, millions of people saw the ball drop in Times Square on Sunday night, so it must really be January, although you couldn't prove it by the weather around here. It's been in the 50s all week, and they said over the weekend, it could reach close to 70 degrees, which is not only ridiculous, but unprecedented. This had been just about the warmest December on record, and also set a record for the latest first snowfall, since here it is, going into the second week of January and we've yet to see our first flake of the season. I would say that our old pal Comrade Mischka was up to his old tricks at the Kremlin's infernal weather machine, but meteorologists assure me that it's El Nino that's behind this instead. (No, that's not Comrade Mischka's kooky Brazilian cousin, but a weather system that blows a lot of hot air. Sort of like Washington, DC, except without all the traffic jams.) It made for balmy conditions in Times Square on New Year's Eve, and even a light rain didn't put a damper on the festivities. We watched it on TV, where every year I can't believe that the show could be any more boring than the previous year, and every year they somehow manage to outdo themselves in stupefying boringness. I said to Bill that I remember all those years ago, when they came up with alternative programming to greet the New Year, because people thought that Guy Lombardo was too boring, and I can't imagine that it could have been any worse than what we're stuck with nowadays. We ended up watching the local Spanish-speaking station usher in 2007 instead, in typically extravagant fashion, which was a lot more entertaining, even though we didn't understand a word of it. At least they seem to understand that cleavage is a universal language.
All in all, this week had its share of ups and downs, and then some. But at least the Christmas tree didn't fall down, which is my new standard for deciding if it's a good week or not. In discussing the ill-fated Christmas Tree Caper, Bill said: "I especially liked the idea of checking the gravity in the living room next year. We obviously need a gravitometer from whoever makes them (probably not easy since I just made that up.)" So there you have it, folks, a new household appliance that no modern family should be without, just waiting to be invented and snapped up by an adoring public. Well, don't just sit there, these things don't just invent themselves, you know. I'm afraid that I can't help you with that, because I'm already working on a revolutionary idea for a little silver doorstop with four doors and a spoiler that I'm hoping to sell to Daimler Chrysler, so once again, you're on your own. And a grateful nation thanks you.
Happy New Year! Unlike many other cultures, Americans don't give their years names, like animals or mythological figures, so I can't wish you a Happy Year of the Water Buffalo or a Happy Year of the Squid or even a Happy Year of the Cyclops, and more's the pity, I'm sure. No, in this country, we tend to lay back and take things as they come, and just let the cruel hand of fate sneak up on us and do what it will. I mean, if you were going to give names to years, and you found yourself coming up on the Year of the Toilet, at least you'd know what to expect, right? So the best I can do is wish everyone out there a very Happy 2007, and after that, you're on your own.
This has certainly been an eventful week for comings and goings, seeing the end of Presidents, dictators and Godfathers. (Of soul, that is, because Papa's Got A Brand New Harp!) Violating the "comedy rule of three," one of our cats also decided to jump aboard that bandwagon and shake off this mortal coil, no doubt angering the Comedy Gods, and frankly, we weren't all that thrilled with it either. In the spirit of community relations, we made our mechanic happy by de-commissioning the Tempo at long last, in a move applauded by those shallow and captious individuals who prize safety over sentimentality, and don't think that I don't know who you are. So this has been anything but the "same old, same old" around here lately, which is about all you can expect when the time comes to ring out the old and ring in the new.
Speaking of which, I couldn't help but notice a large feature story in the Wheels section of our local newspaper about the 2007 Chrysler Sebring, with this opening salvo in giant type: "Taking the desire to be different in a whole new direction, Chrysler style." You can imagine my surprise, then, to find this blaring announcement accompanied by a picture of the world's most mundane little silver doorstop with four doors and a spoiler. Naturally, I assumed that this was some sort of mistake, or perhaps an ironic commentary on the sad state of automotive design, but it appeared to be neither. The article begins with this fulsome praise: "It's new and it's definitely different. Daimler Chrysler has once again shunned convention by creating a new sedan with rule-breaking looks." Here's where I'm thinking, that is, except for the part where it's a little silver doorstop with four doors and a spoiler, and it looks like every other car that's out there nowadays. It continues: "The inspiration for the '07 Sebring's sheetmetal comes from a variety of sources. The front clip and the hood appear inspired by the company's Crossfire two-seat sports car, while the side view is reminiscent of the Dodge division's compact Caliber. It's only when the rear end comes into focus that you'll find a slight relationship with the outgoing model. Taken in total, this mosaic of shapes moves the Sebring far apart from the regulation cookie-cutter styling that proliferates the sedan ranks." (!!!) (!!!!!) So it doesn't have cookie-cutter styling, apart from the fact that it looks like three of their other cars. This is the point at which I'm shaking my head and wondering if this isn't some kind of a sick joke, then I must be the one going crazy. Just when you think it can't possibly get any worse, they wrap up with this classic clincher: "Without a doubt, Daimler Chrysler has taken a bit of a gamble with the Sebring's edgy styling that, for some buyers, could take some getting used to." Oh, I give up! Nurse, please have those nice young men in the white coats just cart me away. Preferably in a little silver doorstop with four doors and a spoiler, if you please.
The day after Christmas, I had to go in to work briefly to finish the payroll for the weekend staff, and was greeted with the sight of the chimney covered in a bright blue plastic tarp, and the area beneath it roped off with yellow tape. So it should be interesting times ahead in the courtyard, I'm thinking, as that chimney demolition and reconstruction project gets underway, to the delight of hospital employees and visitors alike. I was just thinking that there's been way too much productivity lately at work, and this should certainly slow things down to a crawl.
Speaking of work, yesterday morning I was accosted by a woman driving past the lot where I park (or, "the boondocks" as we call it) and away from the hospital, asking me how to find the main entrance. Because she was already going in the wrong direction, not to mention out in the boonies, which is rife with one-way streets all handily pointing away from the hospital, I could think of no easy way to direct her there, except by getting in the car with her and showing her the way. So I climbed in and brought her safely to the front doors, where we disembarked after a successful landing. She thanked me profusely, explaining that if she seemed flustered, it was because she was anxious, being that she was late for a stress test. Perhaps you have to work in health care to find that sort of irony amusing, but it made both of us laugh out loud.
Everyone already knows what I think of short weeks at work, and this was a textbook example of one, in spades. Today I had to attend a meeting in the morning, and when I got back to my office, I simply couldn't get out of my own way and back on track. Adding insult to injury was a series of phone calls that began with the nice lady calling from the animal hospital, who began, "I hate to bother you at work." I assured her that she was not bothering me, and was able to help her with her inquiry. Then I got a call from the accountant that we use at church, who also said she hated to bother me at work, and I assured her likewise that she was not bothering me. Finally, the Pastor also called me and said he hated to bother me at work, and while I also assured him that he was not bothering me, I admit that at this point, I did it through clenched teeth. The way things were going, I figured that the next person who called and said they hated to bother me at work, I would just yell, "GOOD!" and hang up on them. Now you can go bother someone else, after all, I'm sure there's plenty of bother to go around.
Of course, millions of people saw the ball drop in Times Square on Sunday night, so it must really be January, although you couldn't prove it by the weather around here. It's been in the 50s all week, and they said over the weekend, it could reach close to 70 degrees, which is not only ridiculous, but unprecedented. This had been just about the warmest December on record, and also set a record for the latest first snowfall, since here it is, going into the second week of January and we've yet to see our first flake of the season. I would say that our old pal Comrade Mischka was up to his old tricks at the Kremlin's infernal weather machine, but meteorologists assure me that it's El Nino that's behind this instead. (No, that's not Comrade Mischka's kooky Brazilian cousin, but a weather system that blows a lot of hot air. Sort of like Washington, DC, except without all the traffic jams.) It made for balmy conditions in Times Square on New Year's Eve, and even a light rain didn't put a damper on the festivities. We watched it on TV, where every year I can't believe that the show could be any more boring than the previous year, and every year they somehow manage to outdo themselves in stupefying boringness. I said to Bill that I remember all those years ago, when they came up with alternative programming to greet the New Year, because people thought that Guy Lombardo was too boring, and I can't imagine that it could have been any worse than what we're stuck with nowadays. We ended up watching the local Spanish-speaking station usher in 2007 instead, in typically extravagant fashion, which was a lot more entertaining, even though we didn't understand a word of it. At least they seem to understand that cleavage is a universal language.
All in all, this week had its share of ups and downs, and then some. But at least the Christmas tree didn't fall down, which is my new standard for deciding if it's a good week or not. In discussing the ill-fated Christmas Tree Caper, Bill said: "I especially liked the idea of checking the gravity in the living room next year. We obviously need a gravitometer from whoever makes them (probably not easy since I just made that up.)" So there you have it, folks, a new household appliance that no modern family should be without, just waiting to be invented and snapped up by an adoring public. Well, don't just sit there, these things don't just invent themselves, you know. I'm afraid that I can't help you with that, because I'm already working on a revolutionary idea for a little silver doorstop with four doors and a spoiler that I'm hoping to sell to Daimler Chrysler, so once again, you're on your own. And a grateful nation thanks you.
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 8:48 PM
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