If Anybody Needs Me...

tough.

I'm going to the beach with my hyper-extended family for a week. Zoloft, don't fail me now.

My Legacy

I am contacting you on behalf of the Office of Student Life at Caltech because you are currently storing boxes in the Caltech SAC trunkroom. Due to the renovations to the South Houses that will be going on in the next year, the trunkroom is going to be completely emptied of its contents by June 26, 2005. If you are able, please remove your belongings by Friday June 24th at noon. If you are unable to do this, the Office of Student Life can move and store your belongings until October 8th, 2005 (end of the second week of classes) for a fee of $7 per box. If you would like the Office of Student Life to provide you with more information about what you have stored, please email cleanout@thebasement.pacifictech.edu.

Thank you.

Elizabeth
Communications Coordinator
Pactech Alumni Association

Hi,

I didn't realize I had something still down there. Could you please tell me what it is? You have my permission to open any boxes with my name on them.

Thank you,

Oscar

You have a blanket, throw pillow, some solaris 8 manuals, a box of plastic
easter eggs, some student health extension forms, what looks to be a 5x
board, a Technics CD player, a 15" monitor, a HP Deskjet 5000, and 2
plastic drawer units with assorted computer junk.

-Curtis Smith

Curtis,

Is there any candy in the Easter Eggs?

I think I can live without most of that stuff. You have my permission to donate the blanket, throw the pillow, recycle the manuals, eat the candy from the Easter Eggs (or hide them somewhere), shred and recycle the health forms, dump the 52 board somewhere (preferably the La Brea Tar Pits), donate the CD player to the nearest museum of natural history, and deposit whatever you can't identify in the Blacker or Dabney courtyard, whichever isn't full at the moment.

Thanks,

Oscar

Who'da Thunk?

I just bumped into a website covering written languages, and noticed an untranslated scripts section. What's funny is that what appears to be a left-handed swastika is included in European runes that are anywhere from 6500-8000 years old. I'm no conspiracy theorist, but I don't even know what part of my head to scratch over that one. Maybe the Aryans invented writing.



Anyway, I've come up with a new system at work. Since I'm already going to be Written Up for not selling enough stuff per hour, and not selling enough replacement guarantees per stuff sold, I've decided to give all the credit for the rest of my sales to the other associates. It doesn't make sense for all of us to be written up at once anyway, and if one of them passes the threshhold and actually gets commission, then more power to them. There's no point in having more than $0 in sales if it's less than $180/hr and I'm getting the book thrown at me anyway.I really want to give notice really soon, and since I have all next week off for vacation, I could kill half my lame duck period with one strike.

For those of you who think I'm just whining, note that Tuesday we had three managers and three associates working at once, with maybe 2 customers per hour. Since my target sales aren't scaled by how many competitors I have, I really can't get too upset for missing an arbitrary number. Now, if the overlord says I don't have enough RSG %, I can remind him that I gave away four of them to another associate. Maybe the beneficiaries of my new plan will let me use their discounts when I'm retired and making actual spending money.

I've gotta run now if I want to eat breakfast, which I do, so I will.

Phase 1 Complete

One of the best-known, if not the deepest, 20th-century philosophers had this to say about job interviews:

But what about the date, there's dating going on, on this room, right now. We can all feel that little bit of tension. What is a date, really, but a job interview that lasts all night ? Only difference between a date and a job interview is not many job interviews is there a chance you'll end up naked at the end of it. "Well Bill, the boss thinks you're the man for the position, why don't you strip down and meet some of the people you'll be working with".

I think he's on to something, but it goes both ways. Some dates turn out not to be dates. I mean, you pick the girl up, feed her dinner, open the doors, the whole nine yards, but it doesn't count because of some technicality (who ever heard of a third cousin?). By the same token, there are job interviews that turn out not to be job interviews. Some of them are pyramid scams, some cram 20 people into an office and herd them like cattle, and still others switch from being employer to being employee without batting an eyelash.

The lady today said she would consult with her staff to see if they could help me, and wanted to schedule a second interview. Of course she asked me to bring a loved one with me, which was weird, but whatever. After going over all of the ways her company will bend over backwards to help make an executive out of me, she casually mentions, "Of course, there's a cost involved."

It reminded me of the scene in that movie where Deuce is settling terms with his first "client," and she's trying to explain to him that he's her client. She wants him to pay $1000, while he's trying to get her to cough over $40. I was in a similar situation; they wanted me to pay $1500-$5000 for the privilege of putting on a suit in 90-degree weather to go to a fake interview. They might not be first against the wall when the revolution comes, but they won't have to wait long.

On the entrepreneur front, I've bought another car load of books. I'm taking inventory now, and will post it here for my imaginary friends to read. My favorite find so far is a ten-volume set of Bancroft's History of the United States published from 1866 through the 1870s, with original binding and in half-decent shape. It's hard to figure out what they're worth, but there are people online trying to sell incomplete sets for over $400. I paid $50 for them, and should be able to get $100 without too much problem, although I may just hang on to them, since they're so interesting. I'll post some scans and quotations from some of the quainter titles.

It's really fun buying 60- to 100-year-old books for less than the cost of blank paper. Now all that remains is to figure out Phase 2.

Itty Bitty City Stages

So I managed to sneak off to like 4 hours of City Stages on Saturday. It was a good time, even if there were only 20 or so people there. It was maybe half the size I remember from last year, or 25% of its peak attendance. I don't know what the city needs to do to save the festival, but there are certainly more pressing issues, even though I'd hate for us to lose it.

I discovered the Magic Fun Bus, which puts the crunk back in funk. I met the girlfriend of one of the guys in the band (I held out my hand to ask her to dance and she put a promo CD in it). Actually, I picked out three girlfriends/wives of band members from three separate groups totally on accident. It must be one of my dubious gifts.

A couple of Swing Kids showed up and decided I was the only man there that it was safe to dance with, or maybe they were just too shy to ask anybody else. So I had partners aplenty between them and an assortment of women who "don't dance." I've learned that "I don't dance," is a much weaker protest than, say, "I won't dance." Also, if the music is loud enough, you can pretend not to hear them declining the invitation. No means no, but that doesn't mean you have to take no for an answer.

They say 40 is the new 30, which means 20 is the new 10, which gives me an excuse for how I spend my time. What it doesn't excuse, however, is 60-year-old women with bare midriffs. Cleavage is one thing, but if your navel is above your neckline, it's time to pass the hoochie-mama torch on to your granddaughter. Naturally, the girls who look 22 are only 14, and the girls who look 19 are really 30. Women have a warped sense of time.


If, on seeing this picture, you think, "Hey, that clock reminds me of me," bikini season is over for you.

I was ticked off at having to pay $25 for four hours, but then when I got to the place, I just moseyed in through a hole in the fence. Appartently one of the budget cuts this year was in the fence enforcement department. I never actually came across a ticket booth, but I'm not complaining.

We survived Father's Eve and made close to 15 grand for the store. I'm still not making my minimum to earn commission, but the good news is they have a minimum draw salary that I get. The other bad news is that I'd be doing much better off if I'd stayed on Unemployment, but I digress.

I do have an interview tomorrow with an evil genius working on missile defense. I didn't ask what military his team contracts for, but at this point I'm relatively ambivalent. If hired, I'd have to get a secret clearance, which will be hard for me, since I haven't kept a secret in my life. I'm wondering if the whistleblower protection act keeps me out of jail if I uncover some secret plot that I'm not supposed to uncover on account of it being secret.



Oh, and I watched Vanilla Sky, and was disappointed at how much explanation they gave at the end. Also, I wonder if it was really tom cruise behind the mask, as it would've been much cheaper to make a cast of his face and get some $15/day extra to do his scenes for 2/3 of the film. It turns out that when you mangle his face, he's really not much of an actor. So when you think about it, all he really has going for him is his face, his wealth, and Katie Holmes.

That consolation made more sense in my head.

Shameless Exploitation of Critters Cuter Than I

Child prodigy Jack, spreading wings like Icarus.


Heidi. The size of the bricks has not been exaggerated.


Heidi again.


Heidi yet again.

Morning Hickness

Sorry for the delay between postings, but the tangled wwweb they've wwwoven seems incapable of supporting my poor little neglected machine.

Anyway, City Stages is this weekend, but I'm gonna miss most of it, since i'm working. It's tempting to quit now with two minutes' notice instead of two weeks', but that's not good business ethics, or something. These days, companies can be bought and sold in less than two weeks; governments can topple in that time, and people can go from being married to divorced about four times in two weeks. But me not showing up every day to talk people out of buying gadgets would upset everything too much.

Now, if someone gave me an all-access pass, you know I'd be outa here. I'm certainly not going to miss any job that forbids me from surfing the net on the clock (even when it's just to answer a customer's question about a product). For their part, my cow-orkers have gotten used to the idea of getting all the commission I would be getting if I were selling what they were selling, as long as I don't hurt the store's numbers. The other day was one of the best Wednesdays we had on record, with one customer buying $3000 worth of toys on a whim. Naturally my colleague saw him first, and acted like he had accomplished something when the guy left. Separating a fool from his money is no great feat, but it can be profitable.

Speaking of fools with money, there's at least one who's done something right. I try not to take notice on the intrigues of celebrities, but when somebody steals my girl I can't just stand idly by. I haven't decided on a course of action yet, but I'm planning to watch Vanilla Sky, which should infuriate me with Tommy Boy all the more.

Oh, and I have an interview in Turkey next week with a Colorado-born man from Hunstville, or maybe it's some other way around. Naturally the district manager decided to put all hands on deck that day to rearrange all the merchandise for our post-Father's Day blowout. This will be the first sale of this kind in the Sharper Image's history, which goes to show you that even the early adopters are a discriminating bunch. So that means I'm working six days straight (as a part timer, mind you), and have to be in two places at once. You know your job isn't right for you when you hope to get an ultimatum that will push you over the edge. It's just that, if I'm gonna be fired, I want it to be spectacular. It's at least reassuring to know that nobody's failure is as memorable as yours.


Watch your six, Maverick.

Revoking the Charter

My internet connection has been hit-or-miss today. I'm about ready to switch to an ISDN or smoke signals, since the cable service is so unreliable and slow. That and Charter unceremoniously declined to interview me for the position of cable guy. I can take my business someplace else, as long as g-diddy still gets his fix.

It was a very productive day by my standards. I did like four loads of laundry, vacuumed another third of my floors, folded the last three weeks' worth of clean laundry, called all my recruiters and informed them of my incentive program, got my head shrunk, and hit Outback to celebrate my sister's cotton transplanniversary.

Anyway, since I don't have anything exciting to report aside from beating all the songs on Monkey level with a gold DK award (I know you're all proud), I'm gonna paste something else that I wrote for the Tech back in the good ole days before they graduated me.

No, I don’t understand the words that are coming out of your mouth.

Depressed at having missed out on celebrating the coming of 2003 with the Western world, I decided I could redeem myself by ringing in the year of the goat. I attended this year’s Spring Festival thinking at worst I’d lose $3 and a couple of hours, but was pleasantly surprised more than once at the vivacity, creativity, and pride that went in to making the evening a memorable one for all in attendance.

I’ve attended my share of Caltech parties, including events put together by just about every student organization on campus, so I speak with some degree of authority when I say that the Caltech C outdid themselves with this one. Never in my career of twenty Decompressions has the Winnett lounge been so packed, nor so well decorated. Everywhere I looked were shiny orb-looking-deals, huge non-ASCII characters, goats and sheep and a plethora of all things Asiatic. The food was abundant and delicious, although I lack the words (literally) to describe exactly what I was eating. Having arrived early, I had the pleasure of watching a hundred people stand in line as I ate, which made savoring the cuisine even more enjoyable.

The festivities were hosted by emcees Xin’ an (Joane) Xiu and Gang Duan. First year grad student Xiu was dressed in an exquisite red and gold satin dress, decorated with Chinese lettering in what I assume to be a traditional fashion. If it isn’t traditional, it needs to be, starting now. Duan was probably wearing clothes too, but because he was standing next to her your humble reporter failed to notice.

The Southern Chinese Youth Association performed classical tunes in a most professional and euphonic fashion, including a spectacular feature with demonstrations of various traditional (or maybe they were cutting edge—Chinese, in any event) wind instruments. I’ve known scores of wind players, but I can’t say that I’ve ever witnessed anyone who could play half a dozen instruments in a row without compromising musicianship. Actually, it’s not correct to say he played them all in a row, because this soloist (whose name I unfortunately neglected to find out) managed to play two of them at once. In tune. And in harmony. The instruments resembled a much finer version of the plastic recorders children play in school, which are not know for their intonation. This man was wailing.

Opening and closing addresses were given by the head of the Chinese Consulate in Los Angeles. I had meant to learn Mandarin on Saturday morning, but I overslept, so I missed out on understanding the finer points of what I’m sure was a delightful speech. Most non-Mandarin speakers would’ve been confused at hearing it full speed without subtitles, but once you’ve survived an ACM 95c lecture, you can make sense out of anything.

Party games were a lively diversion, including several rounds of Charades. The clues and answers were transliterated for the rest of us, but for all practical purposes the game was rigged in favor of those who actually knew how to read all the little pictures. The most popular category seemed to be “idiom,” which generally meant I was hosed.

Later, however, I managed to redeem myself. I used my mad linguistics skills, knowledge of song lyrics, and utter imperviousness to embarrassment to win two door prizes in a later contest involving songs with the word “goat.” You had to be there.

An unexpected highlight came from Eli Jorne, a grad student in applied physics who at first glance doesn’t appear Chinese at all, who gave a passionate rendition of a Chinese (I think) song entitled “Girl, Please Look this Way.” His performance was complimented by at least one listener, who noted his astute proficiency in the finer points of Mandarin. I’m jealous, not because he could make the crowd laugh uproariously, but because he knew what they were laughing at. That and he’s a mighty fine singer to boot.

In addition, I got to hear the finest zither performance I’ve ever encontered, saw other students in musical acts, skits with goats and sheep, and interpretive Tai Chi dancing.

All in all, I’d say the Chinese C has raised the bar for heritage. I know culture isn’t a competitive sport, but I may just be persuaded away from KSA, OASIS, or CLASES in favor of these goat-loving people with the Karaoke machine and all the other traditional Chinese cultural gadgets.

What Women's Lib Movement?

In addition to teaching the art of shorthand, the book I got for a quarter has some interesting advice for would-be shorthanders. Women readers should be careful reading this; your bra might spontaneously combust.

The Thing About Onions...

...is that they can make you cry.

On the plus side, the customer who bought the one item I sold today also got the replacement guarantee, so I'm up to 0.76%. Woohoo.

My Sharpening Days May Be Numbered

Yesterday was fun. I've sold a total of zero replacement/service guarantees for the month of June, for a total of zero percent of my sales. It's not that I'm not trying, mind you, but the more pressure they put on me to sell the things, the worse I feel for my customers, and the less enthusiastic I feel about selling them.

So of course I had to watch the training video again, in accordance with policy. This time they made me watch it standing up, because if I got to sit in a chair it wouldn't be "like a punishment." Then I got in trouble for going back to watch it without consulting with all three managers. It sure is fun having to ask permission to do something you've been ordered to do, but it comes with the territory when you have three bosses who actually pay attention to you.

The worst part was that they revoked my yo-yoing privileges. I'm not allowed to touch the Yomega for a full week, and in the meantime, I'm supposed to handle products that aren't selling well, or that have a higher profit margin. That got old a much faster than the yo-yo did, since all it did was drip on me and make me look even less sophisticated.

Anyway, I was closing yesterday, and it was just me and Chris, who bears a striking resemblence to Morpheus, but whose resemblance doesn't bear much on the narrative I'm about to relate. About ten minutes to closing, a woman in a hot pink shirt and shortish skirt came in and asked if we had any of the 23" LCD HD TVs in stock. I dutifully checked on it, and couldn't even begin to try to sell it to her before she decided to take it. So I looked in the 'puter, and it said we didn't have one, but then I asked Chris, and he said we should have one anyway, so he went back into the cage to unlock the one we had while I rung her up. Of course I told her about the service plan, but she wasn't having none of it. I figured, ok, if she buys a $1700 TV on a whim, maybe she considers it disposable. How should I know?

Naturally, she pays with a check, which is where the story gets slightly more interesting. It's a winnie-the-pooh check from Bank of America, with an address on it, a name that matches her ID, a watermark, and the whole bit. I run it through the validator, and it validates itself, so the transaction goes through. So Morpheus goes and retrieves the TV from the holy of holies in the stock room, while my customer asks me to show her some iPods. Interestingly, she inquires as to how many people we have working at the time, and, being the honest kid that I am, reply, "Just us." Then she wants to know if I have to go back and help him carry it, but he's got a handle on it, so I follow her to the iPod case.

At this point, accounts differ. Chris says that hot on her tail was another gentleman with the same area code as her who wanted to buy a DV Handicam with a check. Same deal, no questions, he just wants one. Since we haven't seen anything illegal happen yet, he goes to the back and fetches it.

About this time, I'm helping a 9-year-old explain to her mother what an iPod is, and how it's better than an XM MyFi. For one thing, it comes in pink. I'm so jealous of all these preteens with iPods. When I was her age, I was lucky if I could bang on a pot with a spoon for entertainment, and then only after I'd eaten all the porridge out of the pot. But I digress.

Anyway, since Certegy verified the check and I did all my procedures right, it looks like we're not liable for the TV. I'm not in trouble for the likely $1742 theft, or the stereo that disappeared sometime during the circus, about which, coincidentally, someone called two minutes after its vanishing act to inquire about the price. I am, however, in pretty deep effluent for not selling the service plan on the TV. According to Chris, who is the world's leading service plan evangelist, if he were going to pass a fraudulent check to buy something, he would always get the service plan. I tried to argue that it's just one more trail of bread crumbs for us to follow to get to the culprit, but he countered with the fact that we don't write down serial numbers of the gadgets we sell.

So anyway, I'm still at 0% RSGs, and will almost certainly be written up for not selling 5.25%. There's no real fixing it now, since I've sold like $4000 already this month, and the only way to sell the big RSGs is to sell a high-dollar item, which will further dilute the percentage anyway. Plus, as Chris was quick to point out, selling something big without the plan hurts the store's percentage, which takes money out of the managers' pockets. I'm did my best to cry myself to sleep over that one.

The moral: if you suspect someone is using a stolen check to buy a $1700 HD TV, make sure you get them to steal the service plan while they're at it. Retail is harder than it looks.

Verbosity City

For the sake of sounding more edumacated, I wrote down some more words that I wasn't a hundred percent on, then made 'em blue with my magic excel commands. Nothing much happened yesterday, except that I got a new belated birthday present. I'm lovin' it.

abstruse

adjunct

affable

affront

affront

aflatus

alpaca

amyotrophic

anteprandial

apertite

apoplexy

apoptosis

apposite

apres vie

apres vie

ascetic

asceticism

ashew

askance

askew

assuage

baleful

baronet

begonia

bewail

bluster

braise

brazen

brilliantine

buttress

cacuous

callow

cameo ring

carbine

chagrin

chatelaine

chemise

chirrup

chortle

cleft

cloy

coiffure

compendious

complacent

complacent

contrite

cordial

corpulent

corpuscle

countenance

crackle

crepuscular

dash

dawdle

debauch

depose

deprave

diaphanous

disconsolate

disjunct

dispel

disquieting

divan

dolorous

doublet

dour

effrontery

elephantiasis

elicit

enervate

ensnare

equanimity

excoriate

extricate

exuberant

farinaceous

feston

filial

flaccid

flicky-fick

foom

frenetic

frutify

fulminate

furtive

gamut

gaunt

germinate

glib

glowering

glum

goldbrick

gully

gusto

hangdog

harangue

harrumph

hem

hussy

ignominious

imbue

impertinent

incandescent

indolent

ingratiate

insensate

insuperable

invidious

jamais vu

jovial

jowls

lackadaisical

lackey

languid

languorous

leaden

leonine

lepage

leviathan

libidinous

licentious

listless

lithe

livid

lope

lumber

macabre

mellifluous

menial

meningococcus

mollify

moue

mulish

musette

necrotic

occlusion

officious

opanescent

orderly

ostentation

ostentatious

pariah

pate

paturient

paunch

pensive

peremptory

perplex

pestilence

plagal

poliomyelitis

potter

prawn

precipate

pregarious

presque vu

primeval

prodigiousl

profusion

rancor

raprod

repudiation

reticent

ribald

roistering

sagacity

sallow

sardonic

sartorial

serene

shirk

simian

slattern

slipshod

somnolent

sordid

splay

squalid

strew

strident

stultifying

swarthy

swashbuckle

swoon

tart

tempestuous

thro

torpid

transduction

trestle

trice

unperjured

urbane

valor

verdant

vexatious

vicissitude

visage

vituperations

whangee

zinnia

We Love to Fly and It Blows

I got nominated to fetch the sister-to-be-in-law from the airport, and found her (and the airport) right off. Of course they managed to leave the planeload of luggage on the tarmac for an hour while they waited on the lightening to get less scary or something. It was a dubious excuse, since several flights that arrived after hers had their bags in the claim before hers did. Naturally I inquired into getting the second hour of my parking validated, and the dude who answers the phone in the parking department got a good chuckle out of that suggestion. The chief baggage apologist said it was an act of God and there was nothing to be done. She recommended that I call 1-800-GOD. I told her it seemed more like the work of Zeus to me, but then gave up.

I would've called God, but then I remembered all the backtithes I owe. You don't want deities auditing you, especially ones who have tax collectors following them around.

My neighbor, the retired Colonel and active barber, got himself a new puppy, tentatively named Heidi. I'll post pics when I get back home, because dogs are more photogenic than most of the people I know.

Oh, and I went on a $2.50 shopping spree at the Friends Bookstore at the Homewood Library. I got a book on shorthand, a 200+ page, full-color biology textbook, a booklet on the Atomic Energy Merit Badge, and a history of Germany written in 1947. Plus a bonus book of Robert Frost's poetry. I like Frost because his poems don't make my head hurt. For all you Whitman fans, they've got Leaves of Grass for a quarter.

Some of the family came by yesterday, and we cleaned up the place for the first time this season. Everybody seemed impressed with my vaccumin' accumen, and a good time was had by all.

I'm gonna stop writing, because there's not much left to say.

Further Chronicling of Wasted Time

I've posted two of my new ideas to the halfbakery. Vote for me, and I'll let you keep reading.

Also, here are some of the results of me dragging a poor defenseless pencil against and even more unfortunate page.







I'll get more inspiration later. Still thinking about a logo for my think tank. I've already told ya'll the motto, right? We think, therefore we tank.

Moonshrining

I've long been planning to start my own cult, but now I'm starting to get the idea that it's really all been done, and there are plenty of groups who have done the work for me. I went to a dance given by the National Kidney Foundation on Friday in honor and benefit of my sister and other transplant recipients and wannabes. She's a transplolympian, and they need money to go to Louisville, KY next year. By the looks of things at the party, they'll be able to rent elephants to ride up there if they want.

On an unrelated note, here's a picture I came across today. I don't know who's in the pic, but I'd like to meet her.


I came close to vacuuming the floor today, even going so far as to remove the instrument from the closet and relocate it to the floor in need. I guess I don't wanna rush into something like that. The roaches might stage a coup if I messed with their turf.

Nothing much is new at work. I got a call from a 32-year-old man, who has no phone, no job, no credit card, no bank account, and no mailing address to speak of who is desperately searching for a...wait for it...blue lightsaber. We don't have any in stock, and they're only getting to the distributor on the tenth, but he'll call us back and ask later if we have it. I could've sent him to Nashville if I'd felt like it.


I keep getting an urge to go get four bagels for $3.41. It's one of the cheapest ways to get full I know, and I don't have to clean up the kitchen afterwards. Not that I would clean up the kitchen anyway, but this way the floor doesn't stick to my feet.

I would comment on something relevant to the rest of the world to the rest of the world, but I'm kinda out of the loop. Deep Throat has been revealed, but so far that doesn't have any significance to most of us. There are enough current scandals to worry about that I'm ready to forgive Nixon.

I need new dancing shoes, from what I can tell. That or better socks, b/c I abused my feet the other day at the shrine place. Fortunately I was prepared for such a contingency. I'm so bored.

Sharper Image still hasn't rewarded me for any of the ideas I've submitted, so it's time to send them some more. Seeing as how the Halfbakery doesn't protect the ideas submitted to it, somebody sooner or later is gonna make money off them. Now I don't think that that's a particularly nice thing to do, but I'm a nice guy, and if anybody is gonna steal someone's idea for profit, it might as well be a nice guy. That way, the money goes to somebody who can use it nicely, and not avaricially. Then again, most of their ideas are worse than mine.

I'm rapidly approaching the deadline to give two weeks' notice before City Stages. Surely there's another job that pays at least this well that I can line up before then. I'm working on an incentive program for the headhunters, maybe something involving a free cheesecake to the first one who lands me a paying gig.

Oh, yeah, Leslie showed me a great thrift store called the Foundry. I got a new (to me) leather jacket for $15, and a silk shirt for $0.99. Plus the tie I wore to the shriner shindig. I'll find the pictures later; they must've gotten lost between my camera and computer.

I've gotta go to the bank, because somebody in HR still can't wrap his mind around the concept of direct deposit. A check is still money, but it has an implied message of "I really don't want to pay you, but this the closest I could legally come. Have fun at the bank."

New Words, and Other Finds

I went back to the sporting goods place and found a more liberal clerk to trade in my hand exerciser. This time I got a receipt for $9.99 instead of $7.99, and all because I didn't show her my receipt. As a bonus, the cashier was an even prettier redhead than the previous one I had the pleasure of dealing with, although I felt bad making her have to process the return. It was more complicated than it had to be, b/c she issued me a gift card and immediately depleted its balance back to zero. I guess it's a learning experience for her.

I got some duds to wear to this dance I'm going to tomorrow at a slick thrift store in Bessemer. I'll have to take pictures. Basically I'm going as somebody I'm not, or maybe somebody I would've been if I wasn't who I am. Anyway, I'm gonna dance, and it's about time, too.

I've started reading Catch-22, first in a checked-out copy and then one I found at the thrift store. I also got a cookbook that I'm told even I can follow, a book on shorthand (I need to learn an obsolescent skill to maintain my retro-dork certification), a copy of Animal Farm, and A Tale of Two Cities (among my top three all-time favorites).

I decided to look up another batch of words that I didn't recognize, or that I didn't have a denotation in mind for. They are posted below to benefit the interested and aggravate the disinterested.

bradawl
buxom
cerulean
cloth-head
congenial
elfin
escutcheon
fog
forelock
furgle
genial
gentian
heavy weather
infundibuliform
jocose
lissom
lorgnette
messuage
nile-green
noblesse oblige
pensive
poesy
popinjay
portentous
pouch
pretentious
prolix
rarefy
scraggy
seamy
skittle-sharp
stoic
strident
supra
votary
winsome