Daphne 3.0

Basking in mediocrity since 2004.

7.30.2008

Internutty

Him: are you still on the interwebs?
Me: yes
Him: huh (judging)
Me: but this is for school!

I’m taking an online class this summer on crisis management. It mostly consists of trying to find current crises and analyzing how a company/organization manages the communications around the crisis. This means I spend a lot of time on the web looking for current crises. I repeat: my homework is to troll the Internet.

It’s a stark contrast with my undergraduate days. Back then we had to go into the library and actually look things up, using books. I don’t want this to turn into a “back in my day… I walked uphill both ways naked in the snow…” type of post, but the disparity is not lost on me. Sometimes I wonder how I even managed to get a bachelor’s degree before we started httping all over ourselves. How did I research a paper before Google became a verb?

Last weekend I was doing some closet organizing (yes, this is how exciting my life is, don’t be jealous) and I found a box full of my college papers. Keeping with my OCD nature, they were all filed in separate file folders labeled with the course name and, get this, course number. (I still do this, although it’s all on my hard drive now.) I laughed as I rummaged through four years of sometimes brilliant, sometimes bullshit, papers and presentations. Reading through papers from International Violence with Schmidt (we called him 007 as he used to work for the DOD and probably killed people), Quebec Separatist movement analysis and horribly written French lit papers brought back memories from one of the best times of my life. All this done without the Internet and with a motorized typewriter!

The first time I ever saw the Internet was when I lived in Paris the summer of 1992. I was 18 and stayed with the weirdest family in France – they were weird even by French standards. They didn’t drink or go out at night. We watched a lot of MacGyver, I guess he’s huge in France. I have vivid memories of watching the Summer Olympics, but not the games I was used to. Rowing, archery and handball made the highlights. To this day I have no idea what medals USA won that year. (France had 26 I believe. They rocked at handball.) I do know how to say, “get me a paperclip, 5 kilo dog and a packet of gum so I can get us out of this mess” in French. Thank you French MacGyver. My hostess was a professor at the university. One day we were in her office and she was “talking” with a colleague in the States on her computer. She had a green screen monitor. Everything involved prompts. I used email ONCE in my sophomore year in undergrad, and it was such a huge pain in the ass that I never used it again until my first job out of college.

Last night I posted my weekly assignment on Blackboard. The online blackboard, not the chalk and erasure kind. I rarely turn in hardcopies anymore. Winter quarter one my profs insisted that all papers be done on the team wiki. And that box of papers, so lovingly stored in my closet for the past 12 years? I recycled the whole thing. File folders and all.

Maintenant, m'obtenir un trombone, un chien de 5 kilo et un paquet de gomme si je peux nous obtenir de ce désordre.

7.29.2008

Swoon.


School Boyfriend came in today for a bona fide meeting with the big wigs from campus marketing. After the meeting as we were walking out of the conference room, he stopped, put his hand on the small of my back, and looked like he was going to say something. (I nearly jumped out of my skin. While we've flirted often, there is no touchy.) Then one of the big wigs called him over and we exchanged the "oh well" look as I told him to have a good rest of the day.

The ice is thin, my friends. Very thin.

7.27.2008

Oh! The places you can go!

Colorado is divided into four areas: the Front Range, the mountains, the Western Slope and everywhere else. When most people visit Colorado, they want to visit Rocky Mountain National Park. Take in the sights, maybe see a few bighorn sheep, snap some pictures and say that they saw the "real" Colorado.

I was in the mountains yesterday for a wedding, at the YMCA camp in Tabernash to be exact. Every time I go to the mountains – winter, spring, summer or fall – I am breathless at the sight of what nature created. I understand why people want to see it for themselves. When I first moved here from cactus country 16 years ago, I could hardly believe my eyes. I still count my lucky stars every evening when I look up and see the sun setting behind the snow capped mountains.

At the wedding yesterday, while I was sitting in the freezing rain of an afternoon shower, I started thinking of all the other places that tourists never get to see.

All over this great state of mine, there are wonders to behold:

Antonito, Colorado: Cano's Castle, Beer Can Folk Art
Colorado is a relatively young state, it was founded in 1876, and as such, we don't have a lot of historical buildings except for in old mining towns. Some enterprising gent took it upon himself to build a castle. Being resourceful, he made it with recycled aluminum. Beer cans to be specific. "... a few smashed beer cans nailed to the walls, along with hubcaps and strips of aluminum."


Golden, Colorado: Buffalo Bills' Grave
William F. Cody herded cattle, worked a wagon train, mined for gold and scouted for the Army. His
skills as a buffalo hunter earned him the nickname Buffalo Bill. His Wild West shows traveled the world, allowing foreigners a chance to experience life in the American West.

At his request, he was buried on Lookout Mountain, which offers a stunning view of the Great Plains and the city of Denver. Unlike Jim Morrison's grave in Paris, this grave site has a gift shop! Don't forget to get your Buffalo Bill shot glass to impress the ladies back home.

Nederland, Colorado: the Frozen Dead Guy
We have our fair share of festivals in Colorado: the Dragon Boat Festival, the Irish Festival, the Underground Music Festival and on and on. Every March in Nederland, the town celebrates Frozen Dead Guy Days. This, by far, is my favorite festival.

Grampa Bredo is the frozen dead guy. He lives in a Tuff Shed in an aluminum box, covered in ice. He's waiting for some mad scientist to invent re-animation so he can be brought back to life. While he waits, the town of Nederland has a party every year to re-animate it's treasury.

Florence, Colorado: Supermax Prison
Ever wonder what happened to Zacharias Moussaoui, Richard Reid and Theodore Kaczynski? You can visit them at Supermax in Florence. Well, you can visit the fence surrounding the compound that houses "473 notorious terrorists, vicious murderers and violent, disruptive escape-prone inmates brought in from other federal penitentiaries." Inmates are kept in solitary confinement for 23 hours a day. The prison is underground and prisoners only view to the outside is through a 4"x4" window that looks up at the sky.

While you're there, stop by the Museum of Colorado Prisons to get your very own Alfred Packer t-shirt. Alfred was a cannibal, but a very fine cook.

Coming soon: find out why the Centennial State is called the Napa Valley of beer.

7.25.2008

Blood Red Eyes

Just got back from watching The Breakfast Club shown outdoors at Red Rocks. The Red Rocks made famous by U2 in Under a Blood Red Sky. Or more recently, Snoop Dogg and 311. There was some much needed tailgating prior to the movie including frosty bevs and hot burgers cooked by my friend T's hubby on his little Char-Grill. Why do burgers taste better when cooked on open flame in a parking lot?

I did manage to survive Day 1 of a two day planning retreat. Been up since 5:30 am (that's 20 out of 24 hours), swam 1000m and went to the day long meeting. I wasn't even sure I was going to drink tonight but as soon as I got to the tailgate party, T had a beer waiting for me. I love her.

Going back for more team building and forecasting tomorrow AM. One of my friends has promised to text me jokes all day. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

7.22.2008

Why yes, it’s a work post.

Don’t get used to it.

Had a rather pleasant day at work today. It was especially nice after the “situation” yesterday: there was a problem with the quantity for a mailer. We were 531 short and I was the one who gave the wrong quantity to the printer. I ended up finding a solution that didn’t cost a lot of money and made the client happy. It all worked out in the end but I hate making mistakes like that. I owned up to it with the client and my co-workers/superiors, who were pretty impressed that I didn’t try to shift the blame. Why bother, I say? Take the hit. Nevertheless, the day went to hell taking care of that one task.

Today my boss asked me to come in early to help finish scheduling on a million projects – I told her that I’d be there as soon as I could. Tuesday is a swim day and I have to stay on my training schedule as my next tri is less than a month away. I ended up only doing 600 meters (instead of 1100) because I was running late to get to the pool, thus I was running late to get to work. Thursday is my other swim day and we have an all day off-site meeting that day. I might pass out in the meeting if I have to get up as early as I think I do to get in and out of the pool on time.

My school boyfriend came in later in the afternoon and shamelessly flirted with me. He comes in every Tuesday and Thursday with some convenient reason to talk to me. His “cover” is that he’s one of my clients. (Oh, that didn’t come out the right way. I’m the account manager for the group he represents.) At first I didn’t really get it. I’m kind of slow that way. Clueless really. I never really understand when men are flirting with me. As socially inept as I am I just think that they’re being really nice. But one day the light bulb went off and I started to get all flushed thinking about it. Now he always makes me feel rather Hello, Mrs. Robinson when he’s around. He is clearly much younger than I and is graduating in a few weeks. I’m perplexed as to why he flirts with me, as there are 4,000 other female students on campus that could fill that need. They’d be available to boot.

I finished the day by hobnobbing with the dean’s executive assistant, who has met me before but acted like it was the first time. No matter, I’ll win her over. We’ll be BFFs in no time and I’ll be in like Flynn with the new dean. I want to start asking the academic types how they got where they are and how I might get there, too. Baby’s thinking of getting a Ph.D. There is supposed to be a void of professors in the next 10-20 years and I’m thinking tenure isn’t such a dirty word after all.

7.21.2008

Wonder if he comes with a do-it-yourself smiting kit?

7.20.2008

I. Must. Have. You.



I think I’m drooling. They have a 3 3/4" heel. I'd be over 6' tall in these pretties. I might just buy these as a back to school present for myself. Yes, I know back to school isn’t until September 8. I’m a planner.

As a backup, I'd take these. If money was no object, I'd go for these.

7.18.2008

Oh, that's hot.


Woman elbowing her way to arm-wrestling history

And all this time I thought men liked women in skirts. I'm off to make an appointment with the barber, and then Target to buy a year's supply of white Hanes Beefy Ts.

7.17.2008

Someday it'll be Saturday night

This week I've been living it be like I was 32 again. Two wine events in one week. Crazy, I know.

Wine event #1: Wednesday night, wine class with T.
Wine class was held on the Metro State campus. It was heavily guarded by construction fencing, so we had to walk around the entire perimeter to get to an entrance, then walk halfway back across campus to find the Plaza building. It was about 97 degrees and my ass started sweating the second we got off the train.

When we found the building, we Robinson Carusoed our way through the South Wing to find the West Wing, which never had a sign. Finally we found our prize. It was a small classroom filled with couples. Everyone was doing the "I see you but I'm too socially awkward to talk to you" number. The men wore The Uniform. As in, the married with children uniform: pleated front chinos and a buttoned down Oxford shirt, Blackberry/Treo/Razor secured in the mansaddle attached to the belt. The women were overly tanned and clearly fake in several ways. They all saw us as a threat even though T and I are both spoken for. The only single in the room was the teacher's pet in the front row, wearing a bright pink Weekenders floor-length dress and a serious case of VPL. I wanted to take her aside and teach her the way of the Hanky Panky. Until I heard her speak. She was brown-nosing in wine class. In wine class. It's not like it's for a grade. We learn about aroma and tannins and drink semi-expensive wines. That was it. Game on.

Needless, I drank some divine French wines that I would have never picked up prior to this class. The Domain Serge Laporte, Sancerre, Sauvignon Blanc was to die for. I could drink SB until my tongue fell off. I wanted to take this wine out on a proper date. Like my patio on a Sunday evening, with a shrimp scampi and grilled romaine salad. We could whisper sweet nothings to each other as the sun set. I'd take a picture of us to remember that perfect day. It would go in my scrapbook next to the foil from the bottle and a ticket stub for the Netflix rental.

(We have wine class again next week and I'm looking forward to the sparkling wines. Mama gets a little crazy on the bubbly.)

I got home around midnight and was supposed to swim this morning. Six am rolled around a little faster than I expected and there was no way in heeeeell that I could get in a pool. So I went on a run and damn if it wasn't the best run. Ever. Ev-ah. I was in the zone. I got the high. I ran the whole route. I didn't have to do the shuffle. Or stop to vomit. It was awesome.

Wine event #2: Legal aid fundraiser with L.
This was held in this funky little building on Market Street by the ballpark. I forgot that it was a game night, so the streets were full of Rockies fans shellacked in purple. My friend's on the board of the legal aid foundation and she bribed me with a free ticket and talk of free wine. What can I say? I'm easy that way. I hadn't seen L in ages, so we spent half the time catching up and the other half lamenting that she was hatching a being soon so wine was off limits for another 6-8 weeks. L's a fantastic drinker and a partner in her law firm (they go together like peanut butter and jelly, don't they?).

I knew a lot of people there, either from networking or other boards that I'm on. There was a bunch of hot young lawyers just dripping wet from law school. I can't imagine the amount of their collective student loan debt. Not to mention the total billable hour rate in that room tonight. I'm sure it was more than I make in a year.

The wine tonight wasn't as good as last night. But it was free. Not really – there was a silent auction. I bid on a month of boot camp and I'm pretty sure I won it. I left before the evening was over. L had to leave and I got tired of making small talk. Silent auctions and free wine don't mix, my friends. Come to think of it, that's how I ended up in wine class. I bought it at another silent auction. It's a vicious cycle.

I think I've got a problem. But the first step is admitting it to yourself, right? I'm a silent auction addict. I'm sure that there's a self help group for that. Surely I could buy a free session at a silent auction.

7.16.2008

blah, blah, blah

So we're at this 4th of July party with some people I know, some people I don't know, and a few good friends. It was 156 degrees that afternoon so we were all sitting in the shade and drinking appropriate ID4 beverages: imported beer. Julie's sharing stories about the dating scene, which are comical and a little bet sad. Yet the way she tells them gets everyone else to start telling their dating horror stories. Pretty soon, we're all laughing our asses off about they guy who bought Julie a sign that says, and I CAN NOT make this stuff up: "Julie's 3rd Hole" It used to say "19th Hole" but he had them change it because, and I quote, "your favorite number is 3." And then Sara says that Julie should write a book about dating because everyone loves to hear about that stuff. Then Julie says, that's true, I love to read about other people's messed up lives.

Now the point... Normally I like to wait until I have some interesting tidbit about my life to share with the world. More often than not, my life consists of the same old pattern: don't sleep, run, work, eat, don't sleep, swim, work, eat, don't sleep, bike, work, eat, throw in an occasional bottle of wine or glass of whiskey and that's pretty much every day of the summer. I don't want to be one of those people who blathers on about matching socks so I don't post that often. And a week goes by. Then a month. Then... well, you know my history.

According to Julie, people love to read stories of other people's mess up lives. Perhaps I should retell her stories? They're good for a chuckle.

I'm my own messed up life, I did a duathlon last night and it was super fun. I got kicked in the gut in the first 250 meters of the swim, but I didn't let that get me down. I didn't even get upset when I swam 100 meters (not really) off course and ended up on the wrong side of the buoy in incoming swim traffic (true). I'm just now getting the 10 gallons of reservoir water out of my nose. I inhaled a frightening amount in the final 100+ meters. It's really hard to cough under water. Just in case you didn't know. Now you do.

I'd write about work but frankly, and I'm loath to admit this, I like my job. I like the people I work with. Most of them are great people. I could write about people outside of the department, as there are some interesting characters working in higher education, but I just can't bring myself to do it. Maybe tomorrow. We have an ALL STAFF summer picnic. Free lunch. In my case, it's a $45,000 lunch as my tuition helps pay for these staff events. But I take what I can get for the money. Plus, my work buddy left for another job. She was a good people watching color commentator. I'm left alone to be snarky with people who are much to kind to be snarking on co-workers. It's a little bit sad.

Really, my stories were much better when I worked for Big Co and filled in forms all day. Better characters. Less care level for the job. Now I give a shit about my job. Probably because I'm only there 20 hours a week and only "there" for about 4 of those hours. The rest of the time I'm in meetings. Or sending emails. Or sending emails about meetings. Or typing creative briefs about items discussed in meetings. Sometimes I have to do research on the interwebs. They really pay me to do this stuff. I know, I hit the motherload.

7.14.2008

while we're at it...

My new drugs just might kill me. They don't play well with triptans, the Miracle Drugs sent from Holy God of All Mercy that make my migraines go away. Or so the FDA says. What do they know? Bunch of scientists. I've been on anti-depressants for two weeks now and all seems to be progressing nicely. I'm a regular Disney Princess around here now. Birds are singing gaily as they land on my palm, squirrels run up to me and smile, the sun is shining (but not too bright) and a trio of mice help me dress each morning. Where have these drugs been all my life?

FDA Public Health Advisory

Oh.

Let's go through the list of symptoms*:
  • Restlessness. Check.
  • Hallucinations. How fun!
  • Loss of coordination. Have you met me?
  • Fast heart beat. Doing three sports in under two hours will do that to ya.
  • Rapid changes in blood pressure. Who hasn't?
  • Increased body temperature. Like my grandma.
  • Overactive reflexes. Oops. Sorry about your crotch.
  • Nausea. Must be Monday.
  • Vomiting. Must be a tri day.
  • Diarrhea. Oh, must have eaten at On The Border.
* Symptoms for Serotonin Syndrome. Not migraines.

The warning states that patients must "weigh the potential risk of serotonin syndrome with the expected benefit of using a triptan with an SSRI or SNRI." In marketing-speak, we call that the value equation. Or is it the value proposition? Or prepositional phrase? Never mind. It reads a little like this:

migraine relief = (risk of death by hallucinating nausea - feeling like Princess Aurora) % (bunnies + slave to the Big Pharma industry)

It's quite simple, really.

On the Thank Dog front: my new drugs are Tier 1. That's Managedcare for less than 10 bucks a month.


7.06.2008

survived the season opener

My first tri of the season came and went. Oh, the water temp? Just fine. I felt bad for the people who rented/bought wetsuits just for this. Obvs, I survived. But not without technical difficulties. The night before the race gale force winds blew the buoys off course. The race folk didn't bother to put them back on course. What was supposed to be 800 meters turned into anyone's guess. (Mine: 900m) My arms didn't want to cooperate during the swim. I could feel the lactic acid building in my forearms not even halfway in. This forced me to use too much leg to complete the swim.

Then my bike. Lo! My darling, wonderful bike, A'mie, had some gear issues. I had taken her for a gear tune up the Thursday before the race. My bad for not riding her between tune up and race day. Mid-gears were malfunctioning. Kinda a problem. So my quads were none too pleased with me.

The run portion went really well, actually. One of my best times. I had three friends waiting for me at the finish line, which was really sweet. They got up early on a Saturday to watch my race when they really didn't have to. Sounds corny, but I'm blessed to have friends like that. They made up for the bad beer choice at the finish line. Who serves a dark lager in 90 degree heat?

All in all, I might do it again next year. I already signed up for a few more tris this summer. I'm also trying a "dip & dash" in a few weeks. Just an easy 750m swim and a 5k run. Sounds like a lovely way to spend a Tuesday night. Yes, I'm a little insane. But that's the fun part.