"Some calls it madness...I calls it HiDeeHo." - Cab Calloway
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Friday, July 09, 2004


What's the worst sort of minor injury someone with my job could have?

That's right, a hand and/or wrist injury! Second would be a butt injury because we have to -ing sit all the time.

I strained the first two fingers on my right hand this morning trying to start the -ing lawnmower. I feel it all the way up to my forearm and it hurts like hell to grip anything. I know exactly how to treat this sort of thing (RICE therapy).

I feel like an idiot. I don't get hurt, I don't get sick. Ever. And now I have a bag of mostly frozen raspberries and a towel attached to my wrist with a hair rubber band just for the hell of it. Maybe I'll make melba sauce with the raspberries...IF I COULD -ING HOLD A -ING SPOON!

Funny thing is, obviously I can still type. I can't hold on to anything though, which means I can't finish the lawn, sweep, do dishes or carry anything. So no sick time for me, but my housekeeper duties are limited.

A note about the "-ing;" I like Mr. Tulip and I am -ing emulating him.


Why, in a thunderstorm, do people feel it necessary to CONTINUE mowing their lawns? Usually if you're doing some sort of outdoor activity and it starts raining, thundering and lighteninginginginging, you stop and go inside to wait at least for the rain to let up. Right?


Unless you live in Mukwonago and feel this driving need to out-suburbiate your neighbor and have the biggest grill, the most mowed and manicured lawn, the most ostentiatious hanging basket of impatiens and petunias, the most blankly pre-emptory judgemental scowl (for the over-60 set), the orangest fake tan (for women my mother's age), the largest cauliflower-poof-in-front hair (for those women my age), the mulletiest mullet (male and female), the truckeriest cap (blue collar men, usually with mullets), the loudest shout of "fuck!" (for the teenagers), and the most stereotypical old-school hair metal (mostly Def Leppard or even as icky as Poison or Warrant) blaring out of their windows...uuuurrgh.

"Oh yaaah, tell me aboudit. Dose kids..."
"Dey done a great jorb."

When can we move to the UK?

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/09/2004 11:15:00 AM

Wednesday, July 07, 2004


How close to perfect is 99.47%? It's 0.53% away, a smidge over half of a percentage point. It's closer to perfect than Ivory soap is to pure (99-43/100%).

And yet, my pay is docked by an even more insignificant amout, 1/10th of a cent per line, because of that giant gap between my work and perfection.

Now 1/10th of a cent per line might not seem like a lot. In fact, it comes to about $26 less per month income for me. It's principle.

Any job that sets perfection as its expected benchmark is one that should not have humans involved in any way at all. Especially not THIS human.

The irony of the fact that I used to be one of these nitpicky QA people is not lost on me.

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/07/2004 10:27:00 AM

Tuesday, July 06, 2004


Happy second anniversary, Josh. Yeah, it's been 2 years now. It seems like less than a month and many years simultaneously.

I love you, Pooka mo chroi.

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/06/2004 05:20:00 PM


There weren't enough chocolate taffies in that bag.

I am now a devotee of Lush soaps. I bought some in Scotland - the Bohemian (lemon), Red Rooster (orange/cinnamon) and some bargain Angel Flake from last Christmas (slightly vanillery, slightly bayberry-y, slightly musky) and you know what? They are excellent soaps. I did not have to declare them in customs. The lady in the shop did not push me to buy more and more stuff like they do here. Matter of fact, in all the shops I/we visited, the clerks stood back and let us get what we wanted or just look, and weren't all up in our faces like American clerks. You American clerks are so pushy. You suck.

There are biting spiders somewhere in my bedroom.

My job is boring me to tears, except when I have a stat MedFlight or ER report about someone who is on the verge of dying and their condition is critical. That is interesting. Note to self: If I ever have to have a ventriculoperitoneal shunt put in, and then subsequently removed, make sure the surgeons remove ALL of it so I don't get fulminant meningoencephalitis and go into septic shock, like that one person last night did.

That's not so froufrou. I'll stop.

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/06/2004 02:44:00 PM

Monday, July 05, 2004


Josh is teaching Morgan how to ride a 2-wheeler without training wheels.

He's having about as much fun with that as I did teaching her how to swim.

UPDATE: As of 2:20 p.m. (after starting around noon), he's jogging alongside while she pedals all by herself. He only took her training wheels off 2 days ago, too.

A few things are possible:
1. Mo is becoming less fearful.
2. Riding a bike is easier than swimming.
3. Josh is a more efficient teacher than I am.
4. All of the above.

It's all for the good, in any case.

She still has a little trouble with getting started (need to work those quads, gal!), but overall it looks like soon Mo will be part of the roaming packs of kids-on-bikes in this subdivision.

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/05/2004 12:39:00 PM


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