the everyday adventures of sabrina

dear white sox:

my requests from last year still stand.

i’m just sayin’,
–sabrina.

lately, my recent practice has been to spend my lunch hour quality time reading over on White Sox Interactive (“Totally Biased”) — today i stumbled across this thread about the unwritten rules of behavior at sox park. this comment nearly made me spit my coke out on my keyboard because of teh laughing.

Originally Posted by Jerko
That’s it. Whoever breaks any of these unwritten rules should be spanked with their cellphones by a person who is smoking and eating a hot dog with ketchup on it while doing the wave during play after throwing back a home run ball.

of course that would have been criminal because it would have gotten Diet Coke with Lime all over my loyal keyboard-bound companion:

my personal least favorite sox park tradition is the ritual chanting of “cubs suck.” (that’s with four syllables: “CU-ubs SU-uck!”) i admit that i started out a long time ago as a cubs fan (until i actually went to a cubs game), but this dislike isn’t because i secretly still harbor cub fandom tendencies — it’s mostly just a “dude, who cares?” thing. seriously, unless it’s a crosstown game? i don’t care about the cubs. i don’t care about their players, i’m not watching their game, i don’t care about their standings, and i’m sure as hell not at at their damn ballpark. and frankly, i think it makes sox fans look bad. like we don’t care enough to support our actual team instead of tearing the northsiders down. also, it’s just kinda tacky. so i’d be perfectly happy if that tradition died an ignomious, unmourned death.

of course it won’t, because the same sort of guys who come to a sox game in order to chant “cubs suck” are the same sort of guys who are generic, all-purpose dickheads.

ST play starts tomorrow! woo! your pal niqui is v. excited. (also, trivia: turns out DH jim thome is from p-town. limestone HS alum. so: you better hit well, or i’ll kidnap you and drop your ass down at o’brien field!)

* tang digs around on the intarweb
<tang> http://catsays.blogspot.com/2005_01_01_catsays_archive.html#110685356311820985
<tang> 250 tons — *empty*
<tang> here are the tires for the fucker, standing next to people: http://www.michelin.com.sg/michelinasia/mig_org_news_aug02.jsp
<tang> I hope there’s 797B pr0n in my calendar some month
<tang> ooh, another one: http://www.pneu-schroeder.ch/info.htm
* niqui appreciates products that help lower her cost-per-ton!
<tang> I like the photo of 12 people standing in an aircraft hangar in front of the tire, which is twice at tall as any of them and wider than all of them
* niqui giggles.
<tang> It says “Bridgestone” in letters as tall as your head
* tang swoons
* twork wants a 797b
* twork also wants a year’s worth of fuel budget for 24×7 operation of a 797b
* tang would accept that in lieu of the 797B
<twork> if you got both, you could commute with the 797b and still have change left over for, say, a new house.
<twork> or a parking place for the 797b.
<tang> verily!

* twork dreams of SMASH!ing puny suv’s with twork’s battle-hardened 797b
* niqui moans. my kingdom for a jacuzzi. or possibly just some more advil.
* twork ’s kingdom for a 797b. it’s a better deal. you could sell the 797b at a loss and still afford a mighty fine jacuzzi.
<twork> and buy back twork’s kingdom.
* niqui weeps for her lack of a jacuzzi.
* niqui is a one-track niqui today.
<twork> 797b what?
<niqui> jacuzzi!
<twork> bubbly.
<niqui> waaaaaarm.
<twork> not especially big-truck-like, though. you have to admit that.
<niqui> more fizzy, less diesely.
<tang> not as hot either
<twork> yes. and unless dropped from a great height, not all that SMASH!y.
<niqui> but much more comfy to kick back and watch a movie in, though.
<tang> unless it’s a drive-in
<twork> depends upon one’s aftermarket modifications!
<twork> there’s plenty of room in that truck bed for a very nice den.
<niqui> its top speed is like 45 mph in seventh gear. the jacuzzi totally has more fizz.
<tang> don’t let the CAT hear you say that
<niqui> you can invite more friends to hang out in your jacuzzi than in your 797b.
* tang steps away from niqui
<twork> better be one damn big jacuzzi.
<niqui> what? hot tubs! they’re for sitting around and gossipping in!
<twork> and dirnking. forget ye not the dirnking.
<niqui> also for watching movies and for making your back pain go away.
<niqui> yes! dirnking!
<tang> you can build a jacuzzi in the back of the 797B for yourself, your family, and every friend you’ve ever met
<niqui> but if i buy a jacuzzi i don’t have to build one, and the sooner i get to relax with fizzy bubbles.
<twork> and haul it around at 45mph SMASH!ing suv’s!
<niqui> okay, there’s something to be said for smashing suvs from your hot tub, you’ve got me there.
<tang> then mount a flat-panel display on the back of the cab, and watch movies in full scale with THX audio and cushy seats
<tang> IN THE JACUZZI
<tang> plus: jacuzzi = cooling system for running the engine even faster
<niqui> okay, perhaps we can meet each other halfway and compromise on the 797b-jacuzzimobile.
<tang> +1

tang: “i don’t think i’ve ever imagined a more fabulous vehicle.”

well, i feel productive. today i solved a problem that’s been plaguing me for a couple of weeks now, went to a meeting and am now officially a member of the WHPK staff (shiny green id card and all!), and filed my taxes.

plus, i went to target to pick up a couple of things and there was some weird drama being engaged in by some transvestites at the food court — someone took someone else’s picture; angry “damn, bitch!” and so forth shouts ensued; all checkout lanes ceased activity as everyone stopped to watch the show. but, more importantly, i totally scored a cute duvet cover on sale.

oh, and i decided i could put off laundry for another day. (hey, i might be unable to sleep tonight! and this way i can make my sleeplessness work for me!) so, today turned out pretty okay in the end.

i think that, last night in my sleep, i went walkabout, joined a construction crew, operated a jackhammer for a few hours, ripped up a couple streets’ worth of asphalt, then came home, showered the asphalt dust off, and went back to bed, because damn does my back hurt for no good reason this morning.

also: to the girl running down woodlawn avenue in a t-shirt and shorts at 0935 this morning: honey, put on some pants. you’re making me cold just looking at you.

Homeward bound.

still not enjoying insomnia as a lifestyle: check.

plus: am in p-town having insomnia, which means no speedy wireless, no cats, and no food at 4AM when i’m starving to death. am seriously contemplating sneaking out of grandma’s house to go find a 24-hour denny’s or something.

so i wanted to get some tickets for the ladytron show at metro in april. managed to finagle some friends to come with me, going to be a good time.

of course the ticketmaster fees were practically half again of the face price. i hate ticketmaster so much. they have us trapped and they know it. if i was going to be up on the north side any time soon i would have just gone to the damn box office, but nooo.

i curse you, ticketmaster, and your ticketbastard ways.

you need to speak more into the mic, dude. :-)

• the apartment search continues apace. have not actually gone so far as to venture out to look at any apartments, but i am thinking very hard about doing so. (actually, the hold up is that if i go to a place i want to be able to write a check on the spot if i decide that that’s it, and i don’t have the means to do that just yet. i shall by my next regularly scheduled day-off-for-apartment-hunting, however.
• on the flip side of moving tasks, packing is right on schedule. (of course i have a schedule. did you miss the post about how i love lists? this particular schedule breaks out a couple of categories of things i am to pack up each work, in descending order of how much i’ll miss them in the mean time. last weekend was stationary, office supplies, and art supplies, plus some knick-knacky stuff.) i’m sort of getting a little routine down: sunday afternoon i pop in a DVD of some TV show (i’m wrapping up season 5 of The West Wing, and mostly through season 1 of Stargate SG-1, with some occasional ER for local flavor. i think i’ll start up on X-Files or maybe Harsh Realm when i finish TWW.), and put boxes together and put things in them, then i vacuum. it’s all too exciting for words, honestly. but as a routine for getting through boring shit, it works pretty well.
• i disassembled my cell phone yesterday to see if a thorough cleaning would help it any — my phone is three years old, and the “3″ key hasn’t worked very well in a long time, and the “Yes” key has worked hardly at all for such a long time i’ve learned to live without it. despite that, i really really like this phone. it’s a great size, it’s very durable, it’s reliable, it does the bluetooth internet thing with my laptop perfectly, it’s great. if it wasn’t for that freaking “Yes” key being broken i would have no reason to want to replace it. but it’s very, very annoying to not be able to dial a phone number that isn’t in your addressbook already, and although the “yes” function will often also be triggered by pressing down on the joystick, that trick doesn’t work for saying “dial now”; instead it pops up a menu. so i’ve toyed with getting a new phone, but i resent the idea that i should have to pay a $20 “upgrade” fee just to get a new phone, and i further resent the idea that after five years with the same company i should have to be re-signed to another two year contract just to upgrade my phone through them, and i resent it enough that i’ll fucking cope with my broken-ass “Yes” button in order to not giving cingular fees i don’t want to pay. also, all the phones currently on the market fail to appeal to me. so — i don’t suppose anyone has a spare Sony-Ericsson T68i they’re not using that i could have, do you guys? dangit, i like this phone!
• also, i feel pretty clever, disassembling my cell phone and thoroughly cleaning it and putting it all back together and having it improved when i’m done (the “3″ button works right, now). also i executed one skilled repair with scotch tape. and i got to use my swanky tiny torx driver set. geek girl represent!
• something weird happened to me yesterday. on my way to work, i saw — heard, really — this red, ‘96 or so BMW 325is on lsd. its poor engine was damn near wailing. i mean, it was bad — if i were a cop, i would have pulled him over for failure to take his damn car to the damn mechanic. since we were driving at approximately the same speeds, i couldn’t get away from him the entire way to work, and it was a pain in the ass because i could hear his car over my own music even from like two car lengths away. i could not decide if (a) it was someone who had no idea how to drive stick (i.e., they were in too low a gear), because it really sounded like the car was, like, stuck in second gear every time he accellerated, or if (b) it was an automatic but the transmission is fuck. because his car was plaguing me, i noticed a few details about it — the plate number and state, and the fact that it had illegally tinted windows all the way around, and the masons sticker on the back. through the day, i kept up a mental, internal debate about what the hell was the matter with that poor car. anyways, eventually the day ended, and i went to go home, which involves a slightly different route than i take to work because i make a little loop rather than backtracking. imagine my surprise when i spot a very familiar sounding red ‘96 or so BMW 325is with new york plates ABC 1234 and a masons sticker, and illegally tinted windows two cars in front of me at the stop light waiting to turn north onto LSD. however, at least i was able to answer part of the question: as he took his foot off the brake and rolled slightly backwards while anticipating the light change, it’s obviously not an automatic transmission.
• in order to avoid being stalked by noisy-ass red ‘96 BMW NY plates ABC 1234 on the way to work today, i left for work like an hour late. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!
• the kasey’s pool table sucks. actually the table’s not so bad, once we discovered how to hax0r its broken ball-release thing, but the “only two feet between table and wall along both sides” thing meant a lot of very ballet-reminiscent cue manoeuvres, which led to both rachel and me sucking a lot more than normal, even if that engendered plenty of opportunities for good-natured mockery. next time, pool will be played elsewhere. on the bright side, kasey’s wifi is a nice improvement over bluetooth ppp.
• michael made me a pie and brought it to me at work. michael is a true friend.
• my much beloved ultra 80 is making intermittant rattling noises. i’m worried it’s about to blow up its hard disk. don’t die, qbert! i love you! you’re such a good and loyal machine! i have backups but it’s not the same!
• i stopped by the parking office on my way to work today in order to attempt to get a permit to park in the lot behind my building, rather than doing the drive-around-the-residential-area spot scope thing. despite the fact that the lot in question is always, always at least like 20% empty, there’s apparently a waiting list. so i signed up to wait for a spot. lame.
• today is turning out to be one of those days where i want to drink heavily, and — based on how late i got to work — it’s not even half over yet. plus i have to go run errands after work. fuck.

as you can tell pretty much just by looking at me, i’ve never been one of those people who just exercise because it’s fun. i engage in specific activities which i enjoy, and if they happen to involve physical exertion — swimming, biking, yoga — well, fabulous, but that’s not really the point. (well, actually, there’s a caveat — i like weight lifting. it’s fun and doesn’t really have any other point. but, it’s certainly the exception here.)

there was a time in grade school i really liked running. i badgered my mom for proper running shoes and i ran around all over the place. (i especially liked running in the halls at school, which was great fun.) i even went out for the track team, but my middle school was of the stupidly competitive variety, rather than the squishy inclusive kind, and i didn’t make it, which sort of soured me on the entire concept for years. (hello, i was 9; it would have killed you to humor me? screw you, mr. powers. (hey, i’m a grudge-holding kind of girl. and if i’ve never bought any reeboks since, well, … nike’s got a better ad campaign anyways.))

but i have to say that one of my most effective tactics for getting rid of real anger is going for a run. i don’t do furious anger runs very often, mostly because i don’t actually get that angry very often — i get irritated easily, and i get annoyed easily, but generally speaking i have to already be in a sub-par frame of mind and then you still really have to work at it to make me angry. and running angry is a special kind of angry. it’s the kind of mental space where you’re not thinking about anything at all except shutting off.

i got really angry tonight.

now my legs are going to fall off and i’ll probably limp around like a giant wimp tomorrow, but life seems a whole lot better, all things considered.

hooray for endorphins!

that article title is not an inappropriate joke: i have a stuffed monkey that lives on my desk at work, right next to my laptop. in my grand tradition of incredibly creative names, he is named MONKEY! (yes, with all caps and exclamation point). MONKEY! is very soft and plush and he balances really well on my shoulder when i’m cranky. plus his little sad monkey face makes me feel like someone else knows my pain and it’ll be okay.

i just realized that MONKEY! is missing and nowhere to be found in my office.

i’m really a little more upset by this than a 28-year-old should be sad!

i want MONKEY! back. :( this valentine’s day present totally sucks!

…

seriously, though, my only real 2006 resolution — decided upon on a whim while filling out the friday quiz at the local coffeeshop whilst fetching my standard large-coffee-with-a-shot this morning on my way to work — is to “panic less about stupid shit.” so far, so good!

first, gacked from  mizmoose:

* Name a CD you own that you think no one else on your friends list does:
hmmm. “Silly Songs,” a compilation of kids’ songs i bought expressly for Napoleon XIV’s “They’re Coming To Take Me Away, Ha Haaa!”

* Name a book you own that you think no one else on your friends list does:
Hospital: An Oral History of Cook County Hospital, a bargain-bin find on the sidewalk outside of powell’s on 57th.

* Name a Movie/DVD/VHS that you think no one else on your friends list has:
slightly tougher, as i think i’m relatively pedestrian in terms of film taste. um, going to guess Stephen King’s Creepshow.

* Name a place that you have visited that you think no one else on your friends list has:
brighton pier (not the west pier; that was already in complete disarray, unfortunately, though i have photos and antique postcards).

Name a tool/piece of technology that you think no one else on your friends list owns:
an atomic warhead! (hah! this question neglected to specify that it was an object that i had.)

and next, inspired by  dargie’s why not?:

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Noted Insomniac Gets Adequate Sleep; Bakes Bread

Chicago, Illinois — Local frequent insomniac S. Downard recently slept for eight consecutive hours, uninterrupted by cats protesting recent cuts in food allotments or surrealist dreams. Downard reported, shortly after her five a.m. wake time, “That was really great. But I still don’t want to go buy TurboTax and run errands today.”

Instead, the Printer’s Row resident and amateur slacker chose to continue work in the exciting field of sourdough, completing the long and exacting process of baking two loaves of bread, from dough created yesterday and left to rise overnight. However, further research into a second sourdough culture, as Downard intends to continue her work to create a sourdough culture which does not require aggregated 36 hours of proofing/rising time from the outset to delicious delicious bread. Results are anticipated by the end of this week, assuming that flour procurement is completed in a timely manner.

Representatives from the Internal Revenue Service, when asked if Downard’s impending tax filing will conflict with the sourdough research project, had no comment.

Kiyoshi and Tiger, also of Printer’s Row, were provided with tinned food on their regular schedule, and a representative for both cats says that their research into finding warm sunny spots in which to sleep shall continue unaffected by Downard’s foolish human bread-baking nonsense.

for anyone who’s ever felt picked-on for making a stupid user mistake — relax, the professionals make even better mistakes!

Date: Mon, 09 Jan 2006 07:21:08 -0500
To: abuse@$MY_EMPLOYER.edu, postmaster@$MY_EMPLOYER.edu
From: $ISP Support Role Account
Subject: please fix this before you are blacklisted

——- Forwarded Message

[buncha headers snipped]
Date: Fri, 06 Jan 2006 13:45:50 -0500
From: A GSB Alumna To: $ISP Support Role Account
Subject: Re: blah blah

Can you please remove the email forward of (her address this ISP hosts) to (her GSB address)?

My account name is (foo)
Email address is (bar)
Thanks so much,
(Her name), (Her company)

—– Original Message —–

[Much quoted previous material, including a response from the support guy in which he chided her for a long paragraph for using HTML email because "there are too many possible security issues with HTML," and not sending her "account name/email address/whatever needs to be changed" because "[w]e’re a very small ISP, but I cannot keep all account/email address info in my head,” and finally adds that he completed her original request, which was to set up the forwarding from her hosted address to her GSB address.)

did you notice the part where he left out any explanation about what he was claiming, via the subject line, was going to get us blacklisted?

so we get this email and then kinda stare at it, gossipping about it in irc, warming our hands over the shared fire-barrel of “what the hell is he talking about?”

Date: Mon, 9 Jan 2006 12:04:51 -0600 (CST)
From: sabrina downard
To: $ISP Support Role Account
Cc: abuse@$MY_EMPLOYER.edu, postmaster@$MY_EMPLOYER.edu
Subject: Re: please fix this before you are blacklisted

Please fix what, precisely, before we are blacklisted? So far as I can
tell, you’re upset about a client asking to have a forwarding address
terminated. Or possibly because she’s top-posting.

–sabrina
(for postmaster@$MY_EMPLOYER.edu)

a few minutes pass, during which time i clean up the HTML further so the entire message is legible (amazing what “%s/\&/\&/g” and friends can do for you), and realize something else is badly amiss. specifically, that the quoted material — which is a whole long thread — contains the user’s account name, pop server hostname, and the password that he assigned her. then we receive:

Date: Mon, 09 Jan 2006 13:56:58 -0500
To: abuse@$MY_EMPLOYER.edu, postmaster@$MY_EMPLOYER.edu
From: $ISP Support Role Account
Subject: Re: please fix this before you are blacklisted

I’m very sorry, my mistake, I got the wrong email!

the epilogue — after a soul-searching internal debate about whether or not it’s just being mean to rub the salt in the wounds of embarassment further, versus letting him be blindsided when the user inevitably contacts him:

Date: Mon, 9 Jan 2006 13:25:16 -0600 (CST)
To: $ISP Support Role Account
From: sabrina downard &;t;sld@$MY_EMPLOYER.edu>
Subject: Re: please fix this before you are blacklisted

: I’m very sorry, my mistake, I got the wrong email!

No worries.

BTW, your email to us contained the client’s login information, including
her password, for your pop server, as the thread included the original
email where you set her account up.

We have a very strict security policy at our site, so I emailed the
client and asked her to change her password as soon as possible. Just
letting you know in case you hear from her.

–sabrina
(for postmaster@$MY_EMPLOYER.edu)

i felt kinda bad for that last one. but, c’mon. seriously, he chastises the user like a child for sending HTML email because of its security implications, and then he forwards her login information to completely unknown third parties via insecure email? gimme a break.

asking where the “any” key is ain’t got nothing on us.