Tippy Toe: Life’s Ruinous Moments
Sometimes what starts out as a perfect and beautiful day full of optimism and hope can take a turn for the worse. Sometimes it only takes a few scant seconds.
I woke up first. Stealthily I slipped out of the covers like a ninja lynx. I tiptoed across the room. My wife was zonked and she needed to sleep in. With God as my witness I vowed to do my part.
On the bedroom doorknob hung the finest shirt that I owned. I have this annoying habit of putting shirts on knobs rather than hanging them up. It drives my wife nuts. I had worn it to a funeral the day before. My Sunday best consists of a black short-sleeved button-up shirt, the only blue jeans I own without holes in the knees, white socks and a pair of sneakers. Yep, that’s as good as it gets.
I wanted to keep noise out of the bedroom but I couldn’t close the door all the way because of the cats. They show great magic at doors that are closed to them and that would undoubtedly wake her up. So I gently nudged the door so it was mostly closed to help keep out light and noise.
In a good mood, I then proceeded to start my day. Little did I know it was already too late. The berg had already been struck. I just didn’t know it yet.
A few seconds later and my wife was up. What the hell?!
“What are you doing awake, my Queen?” I politely inquired.
“The cats were in the bedroom and they couldn’t get out.”
“But I left the door cracked just so that wouldn’t happen, my love.”
“Your goddamned shirt was in the way. They couldn’t get out.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“That’s not all,” she added.
I was filled with dread.
“They shredded your shirt.”
And, sometimes, that’s all it takes. Get out of bed and the hammer of life comes down hard and bone-crushingly shatters you, your dreams and even your shirt.
I looked at my watch. I’d been awake for 42 seconds.
The news is abuzz with a story about “swatting.”
What is swatting? I figured it had something to do with flies or, perhaps, it was a new street lingo euphemism for something disgusting (sexual) done in bed. I was wrong on both counts. Like everything important in life, Wikipedia provides illumination:
Swatting is the tricking of any emergency service (via such as a 9-1-1 dispatcher) into dispatching an emergency response based on the false report of an on-going critical incident.
Source: Wikipedia – Swatting
A particularly nasty version of swatting is when you hoax the police into sending a SWAT (Special Weapons And Tactics) response to the home of your sworn enemy and kicking in their door, possibly shooting them while they reach for their salad fork and generally ruining their day. This is the sort of thing kids consider to be trendy these days.
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What’s The Points?
The computer screen told the story. A weather system, shown as a menacing blob of glowing crimson on the screen, was bearing down on us and about to engulf the whole damn island. Isla Nublar was really in for it. Gale force winds, 40 foot swells, the whole nine yards.
Communications were already out.
The control room shook as horizontal rain punished the windows creating enough background noise to decidedly get on my nerves. I took a moment to glance out the window. The tropical trees were whipping in the wind like piñatas under a baseball bat.
It was up to me.
I realized a voice was coming out of the high-tech radio I held in my hand. “Sqwk! Say again, say again, we are pinned down. No way out. Request immediate EVAC. Do you copy? Over. Sqwk!”
Sending out the chopper in these conditions would almost certainly be suicide. Yet there stood the flight crew, having already volunteered, now impatiently awaiting my decision. Risk three lives to save eight? I could barely comprehend the mathematics that involved.
The weather display was blinking now. It has just been updated with the name of the storm which was now closer than ever. “Fiona” they were calling in. Wow, I thought. They named the storm. That’s extremely useful information.
“Clever girl,” I said without realizing I was saying out loud.
Time was growing short. It was do or die. This command decision had to be made so I could triage the next looming disaster only seconds away.
“Send ’em out,” I ordered. I keyed the mic. “Help is on the way. Out.”
Me so dummy
Another day, another post about work… (Are you listening, Klout? Poop and work. That’s me.)
Andy Rooney died recently. So CBS is running a lot promos for “The Best of Andy Rooney” on DVD lately. It may very well be the one commercial in the history of television that may actually influence my behavior. In the commercial they play a clip of Andy saying something like, “Why is it that bosses make such bad decisions?” (That’s paraphrased from memory. I didn’t memorize the damn thing.)
Andy also once famously said, “We need people who can actually do things. We have too many bosses and too few workers.”
Dammit, Andy! You’re preaching to the choir. Testify! I love you! Hallelujah!!! That’s a modern day miracle. We must begin work to make Andy a saint. Now. Fuck the customary five-year waiting period.
I’m going to reveal something very major about myself. Call it a risky disclosure if you want. Yeah, I’m sure you’re all sitting around thinking to yourself, “I wish I knew more about Tom.” Too bad. I’m going to tell you anyway.
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Back that glass up
Props go out to The Reluctant Optimist blog for inspiring this post.
We’ve all heard about this accursed hypothetical glass. Some evil miscreant apparently put liquid in and filled it exactly to the fifty percent capacity level. What nefarious purpose was behind that I can only guess. 🙂
What are the funnest, funniest or most interesting responses you’ve ever heard to the question: “Is the glass half empty or half full?” If you got nothing, then you can just let us know how you see it.
My personal favorite response has always been, “Neither. I just want to know how big will the spill be when the glass has tipped over!”
Chortle. Whatever. Meh.
In his header image, however, The Reluctant Optimist provides a response that improves on my favorite quite nicely, I think. “The glass can be half empty or half full … as long as there is whiskey in it.”
Whiskey! Hella. Nicely done! I wish I had thought of that. 🙂
Just for giggles I tried the question on our temporary worker. She said, “half full.” So you are an optimist, I replied. “No,” she said. “That’s just how full it is.” Eh? Turns out she didn’t grok the question. She’d never heard the optimism/pessimism angle in regards to that question before. She seriously thought I wanted to know if a hypothetical glass was half full?? LOLZ!
Anyway, please reply to this post with any other responses you may have heard or simply give us your take on this age old question. Just don’t try to tell me anything about a chicken and an egg being able to fit in that glass. I won’t fall for it!