Ultramundane: It's Just Not Natural

Where There’s Smoke…

Casey — Wed, 25 Jun 2008 01:10:00 +0000

I keep forgetting that the hills around me, like many hills and mountains of the west coast, have been up in flames. I walk outside to go to work and have that homeowner’s panic. “Why does my neighborhood smell like smoke?” I briefly consider going back inside to compulsively check the iron, the portable heater, the toaster, until I remember that it’s from seven miles south of us.

On the other hand I have been encouraging the smoke coming out of our new gas grill. It’s amazing how quickly the first tank of propane goes. I do have the strange sensation of becoming my father as I stand over the flames grilling a steak. Granted, I’m grilling myself a portabella mushroom on the vegetarian side of the grates, so the comparison eventually falls apart, but for a brief moment I’m back on my parent’s patio tending to their gas grill.

However we’re now running low on fuel, and just haven’t quite gotten around to getting more. While part of this is us uncertain on how to get the thing refilled after 7pm, most of this must have been a weekend lassitude settling in and lingering, as it’s a little soon for this to be new appliance burnout…like what happens with the bread machine, or the ice cream maker, or the automatic hot dog cooker, or the three-in-one breakfast cooker, or any number of things in my Amazon shopping cart. I am nothing if not a good little consumer.

Or perhaps we’re just waiting until the rest of the sky is a little less smoky.

Marital Rating Scale: Tests for Husbands and Wives.

Casey — Tue, 24 Jun 2008 22:15:06 +0000

As a 1930s wife, I am
Very Poor (Failure)

As a 1930s husband, I am
Superior

Take the test!

This isn’t going to help my case that I should quit my job and become the stay-at-home spouse.

I’m Gonna Post The Fuck Out Of This Weblog!

Casey — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 20:26:59 +0000

I think I’ve posted before about my belief that we should increase the amount of profanity in the workplace. Last Friday I was hit with both a surge of energy and a surplus of obscenities—in short, I felt great. Suddenly it occurred to me to use the construction “[verb] the fuck out of [noun]” for absolutely everything.

“I’m going to mockup the fuck out of this webpage! I’m going to eat the fuck out of this sandwich! I’m going to update the fuck out of our intranet! I’m going to leverage the fuck out of our organizational infrastructure!

That worked great until the guy from Human Resources documented the fuck out of my behavioral disruption.

Spank Their Outfielders!

Casey — Tue, 20 May 2008 20:12:34 +0000

At the Giants/White Sox game this past weekend, they played the typical organ tunes (”Charge!”) and drum beats to get the croud cheering. Suddenly I realized that every time the drums beat:

Boom, Boom, Boom-Boom, Boom

I reflexively said:

Pon Pon Pata Pon.

“And in the bottom of the eighth, the Zigaton Crabs are down with three, the Eyeballs up with seven…”

No, I’m not affected by the media I play. Why do you ask?

We’ve also been playing Mario Kart Wii and Grand Theft Auto IV. So perhaps this isn’t the best time for me to borrow your car either.

Middle Age.

Casey — Wed, 07 May 2008 01:51:36 +0000

Middle Age is when the mirror confronts you with bad zits and grey hairs at the same time.

Middle Age is when your car insurance premiums go down, but you still play Grand Theft Auto IV at home.

Middle Age is when you realize you could wear neon pink and green again now but really shouldn’t, because it was a bad idea the first time.

Middle Age is when you wonder if you’ve made this blog post before.

The Tipping (Over) Point.

Casey — Sat, 26 Apr 2008 00:09:07 +0000

Somehow today I managed to leave the house in wrinkled pants, with unshaven spots on my face, without my breakfast and without doing the dishes that have piled up over the past few nights

My desk at home is covered with papers; I stuffed the most relevant ones into my bag and got to my desk here at work, which is also covered with papers. I predict that this evening I will stuff the most relevant ones back into my bag and take them back home again.

I am fielding calls about all the various projects I am late on; I am forgetting the things at the store that I went there for. I am not even certain where my lists are.

And yet somehow, I am in a great mood. With weekend plans for shopping and cocktailing, and maybe for art or exercise, I have a couple of days to find a balance point again.

Wrinkles and all.

1. Make New List.

Casey — Tue, 22 Apr 2008 21:28:47 +0000

I need a better list.

The list I use at work has fifty items on it. Not all of them are my to-do items, naturally, but it kind of feels like it. Because they’re on my list.

So I sometimes maintain a second list. Thatt works, as long as I can’t see the first list too. Because if I put them together in the same place, then my brain adds up both lists together—even though it’s not supposed to—and then shits its pants. (Its metaphorical pants, thankfully. Otherwise ‘Change Underpants’ would need to go on the list that I’m not supposed to look at…and that’s a vicious cycle just waiting to happen.)

This would all be a lot less difficult if I were doing it without the pounding headache.

And then, of course, these are only my work lists. I have personal lists in short term, long term, shopping, cooking, and downloading flavors. I am slowly getting to the point where I need a list of my lists. Which will be fine, because the pile of lists is actually a pretty comfortable place to just sit and play World of Warcraft instead.

Like I Didn’t Already Know I Was Neurotic.

Casey — Thu, 17 Apr 2008 19:25:13 +0000

Neuroticism	92
Extraversion	30
Openness to Experience	71
Agreeableness	55
Conscientiousness	27

“Mostly your emotions are on an even keel and you do not get depressed easily, however you experience panic, confusion, and helplessness when under pressure or stress. You get overwhelmed by too much noise and commotion and do not like thrill-seeking activities. You prefer dealing with either people or things rather than ideas. You regard intellectual exercises as a waste of your time. You dislike confrontations and are perfectly willing to compromise or to deny your own needs in order to get along with others, however you do not particularly like helping other people. Requests for help feel like an imposition on your time. You are a reasonably organized person and like to have a certain amount of routine in your life.”

Take a Personality Test now or view the full Personality Report.

Translation: I’m the nicest asshole you won’t ever meet.

You Know The Rules, And So Do I.

Casey — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 20:21:00 +0000

The Rickroll is the Wet Willy for people who aren’t in the same room as each other. Sloppy in your ears and rather dated. And it’s flippin’ everywhere today. I suppose it could be worse—this year’s omnipresent April Fool’s joke could have been “two girls one cup.” *shudder*

Of course, on the flip side of pop music memetics, I was getting an expensive sandwich at a nearby store when Mariah Carey came on the radio. I don’t know if it was just a bad speaker or if the tuning wasn’t quite right, or if I am just now permanently ruined; but I swear she was singing it in Bulgarian.

Survivor’s Guilt Again.

Casey — Fri, 28 Mar 2008 20:49:02 +0000

Everybody has been packing their stuff into boxes. Awfully dusty in the office today. That must be why I’m tearing up.

At least I haven’t thrown up yet. Maybe it’s good that I haven’t had lunch yet.

I’m not even the one who’s leaving, but man am I feeling disconnected right now.