Month: July 2001 (page 1 of 12)

“We need a Customer Associate in Aisle 9. Bring some hot water and towels.”

Ohhhhh, so when I say it’s hot everybody thinks I’m complaining, but when the Queen Mother goes down with heat exhaustion suddenly it’s a national emergency? I bet she has fans up the wazoo. Me, I’m sleeping with the windows open and offering my body up willingly to the flying ants.

Did I mention the yoga? Okay, so last Friday it’s “Customer Appreciation Day” at my gym so I drag my sister along for a yoga class, which neither of us have never done before. Here’s a minute-by-minute recap of my actual thoughts during the experience:

  • 7:55 pm Okay, I can do this. How bad can it be, right? There aren’t any weights or steps or machinery. It’s just your body. Dude, this is gonna be cake.
  • 8:05 Hmmm… the stretching is interesting. I’m enjoying it so far.
  • 8:10 Ooh, this child’s pose is pretty nice.
  • 8:20 Dammit, man, I have no balance. It is physically impossible for me to stand on my tippy toes with my arms in the air and then lower myself to my knees while balanced en pointe. Man, this is hard.
  • 8:25 No. No friggin’ way. I can’t remember that! There’s, like, 17 steps in that sequence! My back feels like it’s gonna break every time I try the cobra. And I can’t hold the damn downward dog for more than 2 seconds without nose-diving onto the mat.
  • 8:30 Oh God. Another hour. Please go faster. Why can I suddenly not stand on one leg?
  • 8:45 I’m sweating bullets. I’m in serious pain. My sister is laughing at me. I HATE YOGA. Only 45 minutes left to go.

I’m pretty sure that this is the point when I blacked out.

  • 9:20 Ahhh… Now this is the part I like. Lying in the dark and listening to white noise. I might fall asleep.
  • 9:30 We’ve been lying here for 10 minutes. I’m so bored I could die. Even the relaxation in yoga is difficult. I’m never doing this again.

I dunno… maybe I just dislike all organized exercise classes. Sorry, B. I gave it a shot.

Peter Buck has plead ‘not guilty’ to those air raid charges. He has not, however, addressed my charge that he’s suddenly become the spitting image of Steven Spielberg.

Training Over! I am now an XML/XSLT goddess. We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming…

Disconnected thoughts:

  • Happy birthday to my Snookums. I’ll be making him Bruce Bogtrotter’s chocolate cake tonight.
  • I’m on the third day of my four day training session. Normal blogging will resume on Wendesday, probably, unless BT get off their ass and fix our home ADSL line.
  • It’s too damn hot. I just spent my lunch hour traipsing around Hammersmith in search of an electric fan, only to discover that the tiny supply was been completely wiped out by the overwhelming demand. The Internet is my last hope of surviving this heat wave.

U.K. Survivor is Over!
SHE DID IT! Holy crap, Charlotte the Harlotte won the million in stunning fashion! She actually garnered all seven votes from the jury! I’d say more, but I’m gonna be late for my training if I don’t run…


As I’m off for a 4-day XML/XSLT training course starting tomorrow (oh joy), bloggage might become a little sparse. Just so you know. I wouldn’t want you to think that I was slackin’ off because I was havin’ a good time or anything.

I got an e-mail from my Dad’s girlfriend recently that I’ve been meaning to post:

“Kris, I read the Conversational Terrorism link and laughed. I know I’ve had every one of those tactics used on me. Here’s a link to something similar I found a few years ago. The Control Game deals with tactics used by organized jerk-offs. You don’t really feel completely abused until you’ve been manipulated by your own elected officials. Of course, I guess we’re supposed to expect that from them, right?”

It’s a great page, which bills itself as “A reference guide for recognizing political/social control tactics by power brokers, large corporations, public relations firms, and government entities.” Basically, this is a list of “Ways the Big Guy Screws the Little Guy”, and ways you can fight back. Very cool. Thanks, Cindy!