Thursday, November 17, 2016

P as in Peaver

Tales from the Institute. I love my job.

1. While on an hour long phone call trying to get the Institute projector fixed, I had the following exchange with a customer service representative:

Rep: That's "p" as in "peaver"
Me: Excuse me?
Re: P as in Peaver
Me: B as in Beaver?
Rep: No P as in Peaver
Me: P as in Paul?
Rep: No P as in Peaver
Me: B as in Boy
Rep: Yes. P as in Peaver

The projector was still not working by the end of the phone call but we wiggled some cords and it unfroze and when it asked for a password that we did not have we tried 0000 and like magic it started working.

2. I cook lunch every Thursday for the kids. It's usually an easy meal, sandwiches or something in the crockpot. But every Thanksgiving, per tradition, I have to cook enough large pieces of meat to feed 40 people (half of them football players) for our lunch and I gag over turkey giblets or warm gelatinous ham fat because I am a delicate flower and can only handle cooking meat in small portions and I end up weeping in a corner questioning all the decisions I've made in life that led me to this point. This year I decided to not be a dummy and we had a BBQ instead. I put our director at the grill and all I had to do was chop vegetables and mix the Kool-aid. The kids don't care what they eat and there was zero gagging! There was a small casualty, though. I took over at the grill for a little bit and as I went to flip a burger there was a terrific bang and a burst of flames and suddenly most of the hair on my right arm was singed off. I still have my eyebrows, thank heavens. The lighter, which had been sitting on the stand next to the grill, had exploded and shot off over the roof. But I think lost arm hair is a small price to pay for not having to put my hand inside a turkey to pull out its neck and guts.

3. Before lunch today a guy walked in asking if he could borrow a cup and our microwave to warm up his tea, which he had in a gallon jug and looked to be just water with lettuce and orange peels in it. I pointed him in the direction of the kitchen and asked his name and he said, "It's Jeremy, but that one doesn't matter. People call me Emmanuel. That's the important one." I didn't want to break it to him that at least once a semester we have some vagabond wander in calling himself Emmanuel and prophesying. He reached out to shake my hand then got very serious and said, "I believe you are going to marry the greatest man." Then he went off to the kitchen to drink his tea out of a flower vase. I get this often. When you're a single Mormon woman of a certain age people like to be encouraging and to be honest, though well intended I can do without it. But if a drifter comes in and makes such a pronouncement like he's Professor Trelawny I suppose I should take it. 

Monday, November 14, 2016

Country Western Existential Crisis

Thoughts I had while at a free Brad Paisley concert for Frontier Communications customers:

1. Is it obvious to all of these folks around me that I barely know who Brad Paisley is?

2. Is it obvious to all of these folks that I don't like country music?

3. I suppose this proves my love for free outdoor live music is greater than my disinterest in country music.

4. Why are there more trucker hats than cowboy hats? Are they the new Stetson? And if so, that's a real shame because if you're given a chance to wear a Stetson why wouldn't you? Trucker hats are just as lame as they've always been.

5. Those two guys are literally wearing overalls and tank tops and trucker hats and carrying 2 giant beers each.

6. Remember when overalls were all the rage back in the 90s and how comfy they were?

7. Whatever happened to my overalls?

8. How much is this costing Frontier?

9. How badly did they screw up on their transition for Verizon?

10. How often does Brad Paisley do corporate events? And how much does he hate himself for it? Probably not too much.

11. How many times is he going to mention hanging out on the banks of a river/lake in one of his songs?

12. That must be nice to have a last name that is so conducive to cool guitar designs. All I could put on a guitar would be a silhouette of a feudal serf.

13. I think he's on his 7th guitar change over.

14. Who in the H is smoking around here?! Dumb new pot law!

15. If the opening act grew up in Orange County then where did he get his southern accent?

16. Is Brad Paisley this boring at all of his shows or just the corporate events? I mean, he's talented but would it kill him to crack a joke?

17. Am I partially to blame for this? Can he sense that some of us are neither fans of him nor his genre but are going along with a giant corporation essentially buying art for the amusement of the masses? Are we all just minor nobles in the Medici court?

18. Is country music bringing about an existential crisis in me?

19. Do not take that free Brad Paisley/Frontier Communications red trucker hat, Rachel!

Monday, November 7, 2016

They've All Gone to Look for America

Well, we did it. We made it to the end of this miserable election cycle. It has been a giant bag of vomit from start to finish and I think we all deserve a firm pat on the back and a nice long nap for having endured it.

Were I the Queen of All Election Stuff I would make it so that candidates could only campaign for six month. And they'll have to do it the old fashioned way, by train. They will zigzag across this beautiful nation of ours, and stand on the back of the caboose which is decked out with buntings, of course, and tell us what they think. There will be small boys in overalls ready to throw tomatoes at them if they tell a lie but we will listen to them respectfully and kindly and enthusiastically because freedom of speech is beautiful and democracy is thrilling. A band will play some kind of John Philip Sousa march because those are always stirring. And after they ride off to the next town the good people will gather together and talk like civilized human beings about what they heard and what they think. There won't be ugly words or groundless accusations. Anyone who says anything mean will be put in time-out for a few minutes and then given a hug. Root beer floats will be served. Basically, we'll act as if our mothers are with us. Wait, no, I don't know your mother. We'll act as if MY mother were with us. 

Until that time, let's be nice to each other and stop thinking that someone who disagrees with you is evil and deserves your ire. They are not and they do not. In fact they probably want the same things you do. Stuff like safety and security for their families, a solid job, a home in a happy neighborhood, and a good taco place nearby. Just because they have a different vision than you do for how to get those things does not make them bad. It just makes them human.

Let's hug people tomorrow! And watch this video of one of my favorite songs about America. There is truly nothing more American than Art Garfunkel's hair.