Monthly Archives: February 2007

My faith in humanity restored!

Car is back from the shop and I must say, those guys at the Husky gas station (where I took it) were super nice. I feel I got a good price for the work done – they switched out my coolant fluid, ran a pressure test on my coolant system and changed my oil. They even filled up my washer fluid, even though I didn’t mention it was low! They must have checked it for me. And my conversation with them went something like this:
Mechanic: Well, you were totally out of coolant fluid. All the seals on your system are shot.
Me: I know. I was told by the dealership that it would cost $1200.00 to fix
Mechanic: Oh no. It shouldn’t cost that. I mean, you’re looking at about 925.00 but 1200.00 is too much.
Me: I just can’t afford that.
Mechanic: Well, as long as you put fluid in every time the light comes on, you’ll be fine. It’ll drive no problems. Just keep an eye on it.

And I waited for him to pressure me to fix it, like the dealership had done, but then there was just silence from his end. And I said:
Can you change my oil while you’re in there?
Mechanic: No problem. By the way, whoever added coolant last didn’t put the lid back on.
Me: Oh. Well. (pauses – and then blurts out) It was me! What an idiot!
Mechanic chuckles: well just make sure you put it back on or it can cause worse problems.
Me (sheepish): okay, thanks. When will it be ready?
Mechanic: anytime after 1pm. You can pick it up till 9pm.
Me: Oh, wow thanks!! How much?
Mechanic: Well, I haven’t totalled it up but it’ll be around $XXX
Me: Alrighty. Thanks.

And then I showed up and it was EXACTLY what he said it would be!!

This is the first time I’ve gone to a mechanic and haven ‘t felt TOTALLY screwed over when I left. I was dealt with politely and (I feel) fairly. I paid what I was told it would cost. And no one pressured me to get this or that done to my car.


Monday. . .sigh

So far today: I have run out of windsheild washer fluid (and it’s a bad day for that), had an electrical malfunction in my car (which now has to go to the mechanics tonight), had a parking meter fail, spent 40 minutes on hold with the parking authority, returned back to my car to find a parking ticket (and now I’ll have to call those fascists back!), the power went out here – it caused my database to corrupt itself, now I’m trying to restore 20000 records and it’s slow going.



Whoa-oh, it’s Magic!!

Seriously, what is that Mr. Clean Magic sponge made out of? I love it!! I use it to clean anything and everything and it truly is a miracle! It takes soap scum off the bathtub, it cleans the gunk outta my kitchen sink, it takes puppy footprints off linoleum.
And isn’t Mr. Clean a happenin’ guy? He’s got the earing and everything. Although he kinda looks like a cross between Yul Brenner and Telly Savalas. . . .

Is Baltar a Cylon?

Now, I know Heidi’s opinion. Heidi has always firmly believed (and correct me if I’m wrong in the comments, Heidi!) that Baltar is a Cylon. But I firmly believe he isn’t. He should be so lucky! That would be the best thing that ever happened to him!

Besides, what kind of freaked out algorithm has he got going that makes him so squirrelly? If he was a Cylon, they would have boxed him ages ago. Seriously. You can’t have a frak up like that out there running amok.

Seriously, BSG is the best show out there right now. If I was an actor on that show, I would get down and praise the gods everynight that I was born on Caprica, or woke up in a jelly mess of Cylon goo, just so I could have all my choice dialogue, angst filled scenes and the occasional jolly good time in the mess hall. But a couple of things have me worried:
a) where the heck is Caprica Six? I assume she got tossed in the brig, but we haven’t seen/heard any of this (and the obscure reference to her on tonight’s epy doesn’t cut it).
b) Who is getting killed off? If you read the chatter out there, someone is going to that big Jupiter Eye in the Sky. Pray for Starbuck, my fellow Capricans!! She’s the best female hero on tv! Sure, she’s crazy and totally fraked up, but you gotta love the girl!!
c) Together, Lee and his wife are Lee and Dee. As I said to Ashleigh, BARF!
d) Why doesn’t Tighe get a glass eye or something? Honestly, if the Cylons can make entire human bodies that are nearly undetectable, surely someone can toss a piece of glass at Tighe. Maybe he can use one of his whiskey shotglasses?
e) Did Adama and Roslyn get it on on New Caprica? Am I supposed to be ‘in the know’ on this or will they keep vaguely referencing it without actually saying it?


Dog N A

I’m a curious person and being a curious person means that I read alot. Last night I couldn’t sleep but I didn’t want to get wrapped up in a book and then stay up all night, so I plucked some mindless reading of my bookshelves – Your Alaskan Malamute and You. Now, Portia is not a pure bred, she was rescued by ARF (link on the right) but based on her appearance, they speculated she was either a Husky or a Malamute cross. After reading several books and scrutinizing pictures, I have decided to go with Malamute.

I was reading last night the general characteristics of malamutes: stubborn (check), likes to be with her pack (check), loves children (check), worst guard dog ever (check – she loves anyone who looks at her sideways), loves snow (check), etc. But all of this got me thinking – these were not physical traits – these were mental/emotional traits. So how much of who she is is defined by her DNA? And by that turn, how much of who we are is defined by our DNA? The old Nature vs Nurture debate. If there are characteristics that can be generally applied to most alaskan malamutes, then what would be the charateristics applied to me by my ancestors? What’s a product of my environment and experiences, and what’s a product of stuff lurking in my genes? My love of pink? Scrapbooking? My dislike of seafood?

If you say that someone is an artist, or musically talented because someone else in their family was and that was passed on, then what else can be handed down? Like, I hate the smell of wind, I love crunchy food and I’m afraid of the dark. If I could hand out questionaires to all my ancestors, what would they say? Would there by a high proportion of people who like pink and solitary activities the same way that Portia’s ancestors learned you depended on your pack for survival and therefore, pack was all?

Shrug – but it sure makes for interesting wool gathering late at night.


That’s the pic on my calendar for February and I really like it! Don’t you hate it when you really like your February calendar picture but you know it’s only gonna be up for 28 days? Or less if you’re like me and you forgot to flip over from January. And why haven’t we done something about this whole 28-day-February? Why can’t we take a day from January and one from March and make all three 30-day months? Don’t you think it’s odd that we’ve never fixed this? I call for a revolution!!


Mad Rant

There is no underlying topic to this rant – just the randomness of my brain. . .

What’s going on in the world today? It seems like depression is on the rise, apathy is on the rise, malcontent is on the rise. Why? Generally, don’t we have it easier than any generation before us? I wasn’t sold into servitude at the ripe age of 12, I wasn’t married off in a pre-arranged ceremony to a groom I had never met. I wasn’t only given the choice of being a teacher or a nurse because of my gender. I don’t have to bake bread over a wood fire, or unravel a sweater so I can reknit it for a child that’s grown. Are we any unhappier than those who came before us, or is this what happens when your basic needs of survival (water, food, shelter) are met?

There’s also this need for a weird sort of full disclosure. Relative strangers will tell you about their medical problems, their mental problems, their sex lives. . .but ask someone what size pants they wear and you’re likely to get the cold shoulder. Celebreties are the worst. They’ll have full spreads in magazines telling the world about their drug abuse, childhood trauma or the personal details of their relationships, but remained close lipped or lie when it comes to their age or whether or not they’ve had plastic surgery.

Where’s it all leading? What kind of world am I going to wake up in tomorrow? Will I be getting botox and cutting all the labels out of my pants? Will I tell more about myself to the stranger on the bus than I do my family and friends? Will I care?