Hostage Web Site Apathy

Right. So I found out that web users trying to check out their appointments, going to the clinic web site could be redirected to a vagabond web site if they forgot to put a period between "my" and "(the name of our site)". I brought this to the attention of our support team, and they were all like "who cares". Well, shit, I do, since I discovered it.

The bogus website misleads users into thinking they're at our site. My suggestion was "let's buy the domain".

The response from the "support" team was"that users need to learn to type the right URL"! Not cool. This is an easy mistake for our customers to make. Then the "support" team gave me all sorts of hell over my suggestion.

I love every member of the "support" team dearly. Even now.

Turns out to be a known issue. I placed a bet with the team that this would result in us buying the domain.

I know I'm right... I hope.

Oh, BTW, Bo Bice will SOOO win Idol.

Droppin' PLATES

Tania, a coworker, left early yesterday, so I had to play a trick on her. Mandatory!

She had a stack of bright red plastic plates in her drawer. I spread them out over her desk, like a tea party. Even tacked one to her wall. Her roomy thought it would be good to put water in each plate, but I resisted. She didn't see them until today. I also spread her Carmex on the space bar of her keyboard. This is what computer geeks do. What can I say. Oh, I also opened her ubrella and put it on her desk.

Anywhooo, her reaction to the plates was awesome. She was like "Singing In The Rain". She tried to tell me that the Carmex ruined her keyboard. Nice try.

Today I put lip balm on Joe's planner. Let's wait to see what happens there...

Not about my life! Sort of...

Okay, a break from my autobiography.

It was Emma's first communion yesterday. I use the following word sparingly: She was precious. Hats off to X for dolling her up so well. And big Kudos to Emma for being so earnest and excited!

It was magical seeing her up their with the priest and all the other communicants.

Unfortunately, I was asked to bow-out of the after party, so I went straight home. But the time with the girls was awesome.

It was nice seeing Brian, Steve, and their wives again.

My Life, Part 3

I'm not gonna get too deep into the divorce thing, but I'll detail the marriage.

X and I were married in 1989. We had a great courtship. She converted me to Catholicism, which I still practice today, so for that I'm in her debt. I had tried all sorts of Christian religions, but this one seemed true.

We lived in a Wisconsin Rapids apartment for a while until she got called away to be a K-Mart manager in Burlington. I was still in college, beginning my year-long internship (no pay, so I had to work a full-time job) in Oshkosh. That year was hell; a foaming, seething, inferno of pain. I would visit our apartment in Burlington on weekends.

After that year was over, I got a nursing home adminitrator job in Port Washington, so I spent a year commuting through Milwaukee traffic until we moved to Port Washington. Ironically, she then got a job in south Milwaukee, so she did the commuting.

We had a vacation to California to see her parents, and, before I left, I responded to an offer of employment in Mineral Point, Wisconsin. When we got back, I was refreshed, and there was a message on the machine that the Mineral Point nursing home people wanted to talk to me.

Got the job and moved to Dodgeville, Wisconsin. The job was good. I got really involved in the community and helped found the "Point Forward" committee, which I chaired. This group got Mineral Point into the Main Street program as the first small community in the nation. I was also the president of the local Kiwanis Club. X and I had 94 at Dodgeville Hospital in 1994.

Later, my Dad phoned and wondered if I wanted his job at Peabody Manor in Appleton, Wisconsin. Hell yeah! Got the job and moved back to Appleton. Our apartment in Dodgeville burned down a month after we left.

To be continuted...

My Life Continued

Forgot to tell you that as a kid I was allergic to everything. Seriously: sunlight, mown grass, pets, chocolate, seafood. SEAFOOD! Convulsions, puking, the whole nine yards. I got shots twice a week to cure me. They worked! Oh, you know that test where they put a grid on your back and poke you with a needle containing allergens? Not when I was a kid. Instead of needles, I was cut for each allergen. I looked like a whipped slave when it was over.
Felt like one, too.

Anyway, after my shoplifting stage, I joined a local Drum and Bugle Corps. The Americanos. VIVA!! Spent money to tour the country sleeping on gym floors and marching in woolen uniforms in the hot, humid Wisconsin summers. Did it for four years. It was awesome!

Junior and senior high school were hell for me. Made most of my friends and girl friends in Drum Corps, so I caught alot of hell from peers in school for not belonging to any cliques.

I was asked to perform with two local symphony orchestras, though, and that led to an invitation to attend Lawrence University (in Appleton). Their conservatory is pretty renowned. I am a percussionist, and spent two years at Lawrence. It got way too political for me, though, so I quit. Sorry Mom and Dad, but I love music deeply in a personal way, so I couldn't do it just for the money. Who gives a crap what Bach and Beethoven did, and to hell with you if you think I'm going to do it that way.

So I went to a local two-year college and then to the University of Wisconsin, Eau Claire to earn my bachellor's degree in Health Care Administration. In total it took me 7 years to earn a bachellor's degree. Gulp.

I spent 13 years running nursing homes and got burnt out. OMG. Not a job you want, even at 70K plus a year.

I took a 50% pay cut to pursue my current career as a computer geek. The pay got better, but not by much. It ain't about the money -- trust me on this one.

I'll get into the whole marriage/divorce thing later.

EXCUUUUUUSE, MEEEEEEEE!

(thank you Steve Martin)

Why am I being so reflective lately? Don't know. Deal with it!

I'll get back to posting about the offspring soon. Hope I'm not boring you.

By the way, they're both completely addicted to this blog, and want to know who this "Cherry person" is. Take it as a compliment, Cherry!!

My Life

Right. A weighty title for this entry, but I'll give you a sketch.

I was born a poor black child.

Alright, not really. I was born in Appleton, Wisconsin very premature. I'm told my grandfather Erwin took one look at me and exclaimed I wouldn't make it. He always used to give me dollar bills as I grew up, much to my parent's disdain. "He needs to learn the value of a dollar" said my dad.

I apparently had a penchant for trouble as a toddler. I remember standing in the window of our Wisconsin Court house yelling at our cross-street neighbor (an elderly man) "is anybody home Mr. Watson says says says...". He must have dreaded going to work each day, waiting for the inevitable wailing.

Though I don't remember, I guess I tried crawling up my dresser and tipped the whole thing over onto myself. I also allegedly loved to crawl under my crib and hook my feet into the springs, thus suspending myself.

Many a toddler day was spent with me in our Carroll Street home in my Doctor Denton PJs, sitting cross-legged in front of a heating vent. There are pictures, but I don't have them right now.

I was a latch-key kid, and, with my older sister Michelle, we spent many evenings alone. Dad with his nursing home, Mom working at the hospital as an LPN.

My elementary school friend and I thought it funny to let the air out of the tires of a car parked near the school. Now, we used thumb tacks to hold the air valves open. No harm ever came to the tires. Turns out the car belonged to the cheif of police in Appleton. Crap. It's the only time my Dad ever hit me in the face (open handed and he felt terrible). What was I thinking?

I found shoplifting as a hobby, and got caught twice: Once at Prange's and once at the local Park 'n Market. Ooops.

Growing older, I spent alot of time with my female cousins in Door County, at our "cabin". We had a coupla acres of land, and my cousins and I used to spend hours playing "Star Trek". I would alternately rescue the girls from intrepid alien threats. Made phasers out of makeup compacts, and communicators too.

I befriended two Door County boys along the way. We got into trouble. They kept a Jeep in an storage shed, and one day we decided to check it out. There was a gallon of fuel in a jug in the front seat. Of course the shed was totally dark, so we used a lighter to check out the contents of the jug. WHOOOOOOSH!! Apparently fuel is not very appreciative of an open flame.

Me and my Door County friends got into other trouble, smashing headlights on old derilect tractors and the like.

Here's the weird part: These same two boys vandelized our house in Door County, breaking anything breakable, and flooding the house by putting rocks in the sinks and starting the faucets. Still don't know what they were thinking.

Enough for now.

My Dad

Listening to Enya, thought I'd blog about my Dad.

He was a strong, stubborn man. He loved to have fun with everything in life. I think that's where I got it.

He died in December, 2001. Lung cancer, CHF, who knows. He lived his life in defiance of norms. Had his own motorcycle club back in the 1970's. Big Mabel Murphy Motorcycle Club. We used to party with the Devil's Advocates. Pig roasts, drag races, the whole nine yards.

Mom was always at his side, supporting the charmingly devious Murph. He loved to drink and smoke. As youngsters, my sister and I would ride from Appleton to Door County to our second home with Mom and Dad chain-smoking. We used to beg them to open the windows so we could breathe. I had athsma as a kid, and the parents used to wonder why I had an attack after an hour breathing cigarette smoke!

Dad grew up in a retirement home run by his Dad, and later grew up to become a nursing home administrator. I followed in his footsteps. 13 years running nursing homes, and eventually taking over the one he ran for 30-plus years. Got written up in the paper and everything. It was very cool.

After spending years at that home, with coffee cup always in hand, Dad got to see me run the place for five and a half years. He was so proud.

Then his health worsened. Secretly I wonder if my divorce did him in. He went in for a routine test and never recovered. I remember his last gaze into my eyes in that hospital bed. He looked like he wanted to go home. I'm glad it was fast for him even though I spent my first career running places like that to which he probably would have eventually gone.

Dad, you're still in my dreams, and that's a good thing. I know your watching my life. Sometimes you must wonder what the hell I'm doing. So do I. But you see the really good side of my life too. Thank you for having me. You created me, and I've had the miracle of seeing my own two girls born and begin to mature. None of that would have happened without you.

I Love You.

Stupid Office Tricks... AGAIN

This is getting out of hand.

Joe screwed me up royally. Let me first say that Joe is a low-life scum-sucking junior analyst who seems to think he's better than me. He's right. In this ONE case. I hope he lives to suffer my wrath!!

So I'm in my office trying to work, and my computer freezes up. I can move my mouse freely, but none of my programs are responding. WTF!! So I implement the evil "finger of doom" (I turn the PC off forcibly). When it reboots, I get the same exact condition. Knowing this is impossible, I begin to think that the lack of Prozac is producing hallucinations; I get that tingly "it must be a dream" feeling until I realize that Joe has replaced my screen with a picture. Of course, a picture won't respond to mouse clicks, thus I think it's on the blink.

Okay, a good joke. Subtle yet effective. But nothing like what I have in store for him.

Later that day, when he was away, I turned up his phone ringer to "obnoxious", and called him. Annoyed everyone within a mile radius. No, that's not payback, it's just a reminder.

Bwaa Haa Haa!

Beat Beat Skip

I have an arythmia. My heart likes to do the "beat, beat, skip" routine. Saw my doctor yesterday, and she thinks it's the prozac. CRAP! I love the prozac. Alas, it's not meant to be.

So, we'll try celexa instead. I'll keep you posted.

Sunday the girls and I played at the zoo and park for the first time this year. What a blast! It's been a long winter here in Wisconsin, so getting outside was such a treat. We went back to my place and just vegged. The park was exhausting. Ms. Grizz (a black bear) and the prairie dogs and the lynxs and the ducks were in prime form. We got so thirsty, but the bubblers weren't on yet, so we had to stop by the Pick and Save to buy some water on the way home.

Hey, all you readers out there (both of you): COMMENT! PLEASE! Not that I really need you to. After all, what a pain, right? NOT!!

Little...Felt...GRAPES!!

On Saturday I volunteered at Emma's first communion retreat. I was really dreading it. The dread was monumentally misplaced. This was one of the most fulfilling experiences I've ever had. I could so totally be an elementary teacher!

So I pick up Emma at 8:30am. You read that right. For those of you who know me, that means leaving at 7:30am, which is simply a miracle. Why? Cause that means getting out of bed at 6:30am. I'm just getting good dreams at that hour.

Anyway, at 3:30am I wake up and drift briefly back into sleep. 6:30 is no prob.

I get there and deliver Emma to the choir room for practice at 9am. The volunteering doesn't begin until 9:30, so I go back out to my car and listen to music. And drink my orange juice. And amuzingly watch my pulse do "beat beat SKIP" in rhythm to Gwen Styphani. I'll post about that later.

After trying to find the right room to volunteer in, I happened across it. It was at the end of the cafeteria, by a small stage.

I then met another volunteer guy who looked remarkably like Tommy Thompson, and he thought I was in charge. Ha. I told him I was just as clue-less as he.

About 20 minutes later, there we were. My 4-person crew setting out burlap banners and felt decorations for our first class of about 19 7-year-olds. The first of six. The retreat was from 9:30 'till 3:00pm.

I took the role of instructor, quizzing and explaining to the communicants about the host with the cross in the middle, the chalace, the loaf of bread, and the grapes. Most of the kids were really in-tune with the whole symolism thing. They were mostly well-behaved, and wide-eyed. I have the whole "looking over the top of your glasses" thing down, so there was little disruption.

Here's the thing, though: There was so much prepared for these banners that the kids only needed to glue the felt to the banners. 90 kids times 10 felt grapes equals 900 felt grapes!! And 90 chalaces, etc.. Why can't the kids cut out they're own friggin' felt?! After all, we had 45 minutes with each class, most of which was spent not doing the activity! Grrrrr...

Ours was one of many classes including Cross-making, Bread-making, Heart-making, and others I've already forgotten. It was magic.

Ate lunch with Emma, and really bonded with her. I wish this could happen once a year.

Stupid Office Tricks Redux

Whew. I think I'm back. Cherry, thanks for the desire to see pictures! You can see them in my last post.

Okay, so I got back to work on Monday, and I just wanted to plant myself in the chair and catch up on my 300 or so emails. I go to get my water and a coworker says "Oh, back from celebrating your 50th birthday?!" I say "No, just a vacation." And I wonder what she's been smoking. Then I loiter around with various people, then finally get to MY OFFICE! MY OFFICE! Have you ever felt totally busted? I mean brought to rights. What I'm asking is, have you ever had a totally effective and somewhat elaborate practical joke played on you?

I did. My office door was covered with 50th birthday tissue and black balloons, along with streamers that read "Oh no, the big "50" five-oh". My office proper was bedecked with a shit load of the same. Nice.

Let me pause here and disclaim that I was born in 1964. Do the freakin' math.

Reading my emails, I see one from a coworker with a subject of "Happy Birthday!". Bastard.

I've had about 100 coworkers stop me in the hall or come in to my office to lament that I don't LOOK 50. When I explain to them that I'm not, they ask "then WHY the decor?". Because my vacation happened to fall over April Fool's Day. Oh. Hah hah hah hah hah.

Real freakin funny.

I got him back somewhat by circulating a picture of the Holy Father with his face on it with a bold caption underneath.

Tee Shirts seem appropriate.

Later.

Dry Spell

Sorry for the lack of posts. I've been extremely busy at work, and when I get home all I feel like doing is having a drink, watching the boob tube, and passing out.

Pictures!!

Cats

Vacation

I love you all. Gotta go.

I'm Baaack...

The week with the girls was awesome! I'm back, but only barely. I'll be uploading some pictures as soon as I recuperate 8-}

Slept (on and off) til noon today. How wonderful.

Holy Father, I love you and pray for you.