Anhydrous Wit

Are you pondering what I'm pondering?

Friday, February 28, 2014

They Could Hire Me for Their Anti-Marketing Department

Author's Note:  I have no experience with the hospital mentioned below.  This post should not be construed as a recommendation nor a denegration of the organization nor its services.

There's a hospital in town named Hillcrest.  To me, that name would be more appropriate for a cemetery.

And the winner of the World's Worst Slogan is...  "The place where healthy people go to die."

Thursday, February 27, 2014

Lead Us Not Into Temptation

Last week, I bought a bag of Hershey's Kisses and a bag of M&M's, both leftover from St. Valentine's Day.  I've been rationing myself well, so I thought I'd buy more when I returned to the grocery store today.  All of them were gone.  (There still are gobs of red, white, and green, white-chocolate morsels from Christmas, though.)

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

When Will the Well Run Dry?

The bimonthly blood drive at work was today.  I told my boss that I was going to donate, and he sounded surprised that anyone cared enough for our fellow humans.  I explained to him how many ways blood can be used and how many people it can help and that I've been donating since the day I turned 17.

Egad!  I've been giving blood for a quarter of a century!

Friday, February 21, 2014

There's No Such Thing as a Free TV Dinner

I learned a few things this week.

1) I need a new toaster oven.  The timer had ceased working a couple of months ago, but all that meant was that I'd have to mind the clock when I put something in to toast or cook.  Now, it won't do anything.  (Yes, I tested the electrical outlet first.)  Thankfully, I have quite a choice for less than fifty dollars, but as my friend Betty recently said, the universe doesn't seem to want money in my bank account.

2) Eggs can explode even after they are removed from the microwave.  (Thankfully, the kitchen and I were easily cleaned, although the egg itself resembled an alien pod that recently hatched.)

3) With my computer again working (cross fingers), I decided to catch up on the few TV shows I'd watch if I had TV.  However, it appears that some TV networks (I'm talking about you, ABC and USA) will not allow you to view shows online unless you have a TV service provider (i.e. cable or satellite).  Oh, the shows still are free, but unless you can provide an account number for one of the providers they recognize, too bad.  I did, however, have better luck at viewing the three "Sherlock" episodes of Mystery! on the PBS website, although all other mysteries from earlier in the season were no longer available.  Plus, it appears that I can watch two-week old episodes of General Hospital via my internet provider's website, even though ABC won't let me see the week-old ones.  Would anyone like to lend me their account number?  (If anyone from the FCC is reading this, it was just a joke!)

Saturday, February 15, 2014

If There's a "Help Wanted" Sign on the Door, Don't Go In

That's the modern-day equivalent of "All hope abandon, ye who enter here".  Now that I think of it, any hand-written sign on the door of this place should serve as a warning.

Last night, I decided to treat myself to dinner out.  (It has been a while since I did that, and the neighbors' dogs were yapping me out of my mind.)  I decided to try the Italian restaurant I couldn't eat at a few months ago.  (When I went, during normal operating hours, there was a sign on the door, saying that the restaurant was closed because the owners had gone on their annual trip "to the old country".)

There were many cars outside, which I took as a good sign.  (Any place not crowded on a Friday night, and St. Valentine's day no less, must not have good food.)  I stepped inside and waited, since I saw no sign saying to seat myself.  Unfortunately, I saw no host or hostess at their station, either.

I saw a waiter busy on the left side.  I saw a busboy busy on both sides.  On the right was a waitress who stood at one table, chatting with the occupants, for five minutes.  At first, I thought she was taking their order, but when I saw one guy pick up something with his fork and eat it, I realized they had already been served, and she was just ignoring everyone else in the restaurant.  I should've walked out right then.

Thankfully, the manager (or owner, judging from his "old country" accent) seated me on the side with the waiter who seemed to be doing his job.  It took a while, but he came to take my drink order and promise me "some bread to start".  Eventually, my drink arrived.  Eventually, he took my order.  Eventually, the bread arrived -- after the adjacent table's, whose occupants had been seated after me.  (I got back at them, though.  My entree arrived long before theirs.)

In the meantime, I read half of my book (a paperback mystery).  This definitely is not a restaurant to take a blind date to.  Even talkers would have trouble filling that much time with inane, get-to-know-you conversation, and if you didn't "click" with your date, you'd be reduced to long periods of silence (wishing you had a book -- or wishing you were rude enough to pull it out and read instead of paying attention to your companion) interrupted by, "How long, do you think, until we're served?" every so often.

Both the waiter and the busboy came buy a couple of times each, to ask if I wanted more soda or more undercooked bread twists.  I should've accepted the offer of more bread, since my entree, when it finally arrived, was less than I expected for the price.  It tasted good, even though it was overdone.

I declined the offer of dessert and headed to the cashier stand, where the owner apologized to me.  He said they were short-handed both out front and in the kitchen.  (Duh!)  I politely said that I understood.  He continued to say that one of the cooks (or the cook, maybe, considering the man's accent) had injured his thumb somehow, so it was difficult for him to work.  (Yes, I do enjoy my opposable thumbs.)  He wiped the price of my drink (the least he could do), but I tipped generously.  (The waiter was young, inexperienced, and overburdened, but he had tried gamely.)

When I started my car and checked the clock, I noted that I had been in the restaurant for one hour and forty-five minutes!  No wonder I was able to read most of my book.

I'd like to go back and try another entree, because the food was good, but if I see another hand-written sign on the door, I'm going back to my car.

Friday, February 14, 2014

V. D.

I'm speaking of the dreaded, infectious Valentine's Day, of course.

For the past week or so, street corners around Tulsa burgeoned with cheap-and-what-a-bargain, plastic-wrapped, stuffed animal- and candy-laden, red baskets available for purchase.  I presume that they are meant for bachelors.  After all, a husband has enough sense to realize that, as cute as his wife might find it, that stuffed hippo will end up on/in his bed.

Thursday, February 13, 2014

Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret.

Sheesh.  Just, sheesh.

I got telephone tech. support to help me last Friday.  My computer worked fine on Saturday.  It didn't work on Sunday.  I spent Monday through today (Thursday) playing phone tag with tech. support to re-re-fix my computer.  It appears to be working now.

I'm not holding my breath, though.

Friday, February 07, 2014

A Positive Note

Not only is today Friday, but my car started normally and took me both to and from work without problems today!

I'd Rather Have "Old & Inferior"

You know I'm old-fashioned.  Still, there's a popular saying, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it."  Why do computer and software manufacturers insist on rearranging and (their word) "improving" their product by making it less, rather than more, user-friendly?

I spent the better part of this week playing phone tag, and then speaking with my computer maker's technical support team (this time, those who speak English as a primary language), trying to figure out why I could not download two popular, free, software packages from trusted websites.  The error message claimed that I had to contact my administrator for permission.

Well, computer tech support walked me through the process to determine what privileges I have.  The computer's control panel setting says that I am indeed the administrator, so the problem must be with the software -- and here's their toll-free number.  I was on hold for the better part of a week to hear that?

I phoned the software tech support (English as a second language) and was told that the permission problem must be caused by the hardware, and to save the programs in a different folder.  Actually, I was told that only after I declined to buy either of the service options (the cheaper of which was $99.00).  I was on hold for the better part of a week to hear that?

Heck.  I could've gone ahead and saved the programs in the "wrong" folder on my own and avoided all this stress.  Next time, I'm going to phone my tech-savvy friends first.

Thursday, February 06, 2014

In Which I Feel Increasingly Powerless

There was a dusting of snow on my car this morning, but no ice, so I could simply run the wipers a couple of times and head to work, right?  No, nothing can be simple for me now.  (I wonder if it's a result of living in Tulsa in the winter, or if it's just my new normal.)

My car radio didn't work, and the radio/clock display wasn't on.  My turn signals operated, but I couldn't hear them clicking.  Otherwise, everything seemed okay.

After work, I couldn't even start the car.  Thankfully, the mechanic hadn't left yet, so he jump-started my car from one of the work trucks.  (Yes, I am glad that my field of work means I have a mechanic on hand.)  My radio, display, and turn signals worked normally.  The mechanic's hypothesis was that the "button" in my car door, which normally signals the car to shut off the radio when I open the door, might have been frozen and thus didn't shut off my radio, and the resulting trickle to the radio diminished my battery.  (His thought this morning was that a fuse might've blown, but the car not starting at all put paid to that idea.)

I made it home -- and backed in to my parking space, in case I need a jump start.  If my car doesn't start first thing, I'll call one of my employees, who lives as far south in town as I do, just farther east, and see if he can swing by and pick me up.  Regardless of what happens, I'll be taking my credit card with me, so once AAA gets me started, I could go and get the battery replaced (if need be).  Or maybe I could sweet-talk the mechanic to help me out!

I know precious little about automobiles (that's why I hire mechanics), but here's what I think is wrong with my car.  It's protesting the weather.  "You bought me in Albuquerque," it pleads.  "I don't do single-digit temperatures!"

Buddy, neither do I.

Monday, February 03, 2014

Never on Sunday

I got my computer back, and it appears to be working all right.

It would've been nice if I could've spent the snowy Sunday setting everything back up on my machine.  Or, I could've gone back to the maul to correct my store membership renewal (which I took care of today).  Or, I could've returned my latest library books (which I took care of today).

No, I'll take it a day at a time.  Getting my computer back and testing it is enough for today. I'll try reinstalling my programs and files later.