I've had an outstanding request for several weeks to get Microsoft Visio and Project installed on my laptop. After sending a 6th reminder today, someone finally came to do it.
When the Asian IT Dude showed up at my desk, I said "Just a second, let me save everything." He told me I didn't need to do that. I said "Yeah, well, let me save everything anyway." I saved the work in two Excel files, four Word documents, three email drafts, and one Visio document.
I explained, "I downloaded the trial version of Visio 2007 because I really needed it, so you can uninstall it if you need to."
His response: "You have too many window open."
My response: "It's called multi-tasking."
When I finished saving and closing all of my windows, I handed control over to the IT guy. He immediately started committing multiple heinous IT fouls:
- He changed my start menu settings from small to large icons
- He changed my quick launch and taskbar settings
- He changed my browser home page
- He moved several icons on my desktop
- He RENAMED several icons on my desktop. RENAMED THEM!!
Can somebody PLEASE explain to me why all IT people think they have the One, the Universal, the Superior, the Only Way to Configure Desktop Preferences???? Like, seriously, I like my shit a certain way and I really don't need your grubby paws changing up my shit. I like my start menu to use "small icons." I like my taskbar to be two buttons tall so I can see everything easier and not have to freaking scroll up and down. My quick launch icons are in a specific order that happens to correspond to EVERY COMPUTER I'VE EVER USED and by messing with them you ensure that I will accidentally open Powerpoint 17 times per hour instead of Firefox. My browser home page is Google, and you need to DEAL WITH IT. And my desktop icons? Just don't touch. Just don't. No moving, no renaming, nothing. Step away from the damn icons.
Then, after all that, he did something that caused my laptop to reboot. He checked under my desk as if some reboot gremlin was to blame, and all I could say is "This is why I saved all my work." I have so been screwed by his type before.
As thankful as I am to have my new software (albeit older versions than the free ones I had), I now have to lose additional time re-setting all the crap that the dude just messed up, and another 10 minutes writing about it because I'm so ticked off. IT dude, if you're systematically scanning my desktop and all outgoing email, I hope you see this and stop messing up other people's Very Personal Settings.
11.10.2008
10.24.2008
pain in my freaking gas
Two weeks after I moved in to the new apartment, I finally call the energy company to set up my gas account, so I can cook food again sometime in the future, and they say they can't turn it on because the prior tenant has an overdue account on the apartment. Greaaaat. So I have to go to the main office, downtown Brooklyn, between 8-5 on Monday thru Friday, and show two forms of photo ID, a prior utility bill (from Florida), and the best part -- a copy of my lease, WHICH I HAVEN'T RECEIVED YET from my management company.
And if that's not enough, the monotone customer service dude, Otis, says he'll set me up as a prospective customer in the system to speed up my process (sounds good, right?), and asks for my social security number. I give it to him, and he says there's an old account in Massachusetts that used my SSN, but is under the name Tiana Miles. TIANA MILES!?! He gave me the address, it's Dorchester. Now I know I've lived a lot of places, but I ain't never lived in Dorchester. When I ask him how I fix that, he says the fine folks at the main office can help me when I go with my 2 forms of photo ID, a prior utility bill, and the imaginary copy of my damn lease. Super duper.
So yeah. I guess I'll be sticking to my milk and cereal diet for a little bit longer.
By the way - Does anyone know a Tiana Miles in Dorchester???
And if that's not enough, the monotone customer service dude, Otis, says he'll set me up as a prospective customer in the system to speed up my process (sounds good, right?), and asks for my social security number. I give it to him, and he says there's an old account in Massachusetts that used my SSN, but is under the name Tiana Miles. TIANA MILES!?! He gave me the address, it's Dorchester. Now I know I've lived a lot of places, but I ain't never lived in Dorchester. When I ask him how I fix that, he says the fine folks at the main office can help me when I go with my 2 forms of photo ID, a prior utility bill, and the imaginary copy of my damn lease. Super duper.
So yeah. I guess I'll be sticking to my milk and cereal diet for a little bit longer.
By the way - Does anyone know a Tiana Miles in Dorchester???
10.19.2008
Hi ho, cheerio!
Well kids, looks like it’s Cheerios for dinner again. Yay!
This marks the fifth night of eight that I’ve had Cheerios for dinner, and the third night that I had Cheerios for dinner after also eating them for breakfast.
I know you’re wondering why.
The first night I was in my new apartment, I ran to the bodega across the street and bought toilet paper and milk. For a week, that milk has been the only thing in my fridge besides water…and the fridge instructions and warranty that are still in the meat drawer. I have no meat or perishable foods of any kind because, well…
Here’s the thing. I’ve had no time to call the gas company and schedule them to come turn on the gas in my apartment. This means I have no stove or oven to cook meals on or in. For the moment, the stove is purely for decoration, and/or for storing sweaters.
I realize the next logical jump for most people is “Well, use the microwave!” But, I don’t have one. My last apartment had one built in, so I got rid of mine, and…now I have nothing. (Makes me rather wish I’d kept the toaster oven that burned everything I put in it – even charred crap is a variation from Cheerios with milk.)
But as I told my concerned grandmother today – don’t worry. For starters, there’s a nice layer of fat around my ass that will surely sustain me if my nutritional well-being starts to wane. But also, there’s a cafeteria at work, and I eat normal, non-Cheerios meals there for lunch Monday thru Friday.
Furthermore, there is an end in sight to this whole grain madness. You see, the box is running low, and I will soon run out and be forced to eat something else from the cupboard…like corn flakes. (But when those run out, I’m really in trouble.)
This marks the fifth night of eight that I’ve had Cheerios for dinner, and the third night that I had Cheerios for dinner after also eating them for breakfast.
I know you’re wondering why.
The first night I was in my new apartment, I ran to the bodega across the street and bought toilet paper and milk. For a week, that milk has been the only thing in my fridge besides water…and the fridge instructions and warranty that are still in the meat drawer. I have no meat or perishable foods of any kind because, well…
Here’s the thing. I’ve had no time to call the gas company and schedule them to come turn on the gas in my apartment. This means I have no stove or oven to cook meals on or in. For the moment, the stove is purely for decoration, and/or for storing sweaters.
I realize the next logical jump for most people is “Well, use the microwave!” But, I don’t have one. My last apartment had one built in, so I got rid of mine, and…now I have nothing. (Makes me rather wish I’d kept the toaster oven that burned everything I put in it – even charred crap is a variation from Cheerios with milk.)
But as I told my concerned grandmother today – don’t worry. For starters, there’s a nice layer of fat around my ass that will surely sustain me if my nutritional well-being starts to wane. But also, there’s a cafeteria at work, and I eat normal, non-Cheerios meals there for lunch Monday thru Friday.
Furthermore, there is an end in sight to this whole grain madness. You see, the box is running low, and I will soon run out and be forced to eat something else from the cupboard…like corn flakes. (But when those run out, I’m really in trouble.)
9.29.2008
It's a small Patriots world.
I got off the plane in Tampa. I rode the escalator down to baggage claim and saw my bag, first in line, already coming around the conveyor belt. I had both bags before most other people were even at the carousel, and I went straight out to the Ground Transportation.
I gave the Super Shuttle woman my confirmation number, and she gave me my receipt. I wheeled my bags over to a bench and took a seat next to a petite, grey-haired woman. As I sat, I noticed her red suitcase and its Patriots luggage tag.
"Oh, I'll sit next to a Patriots fan any day!" I said to her.
"Oh, are you a Patriots fan? Where are you from?" she asked.
"Boston area. Born and raised. Where are you from?
"Well, I'm from Ohio," she told me. "But my son plays for the Patriots."
This, naturally, piqued my interest. Judging from her tiny frame, I assumed she was about to name some third-string rookie who I've never heard of. But I asked anyway...
"Oh really? Who's your son?"
"Matt Light."
"MATT LIGHT!!! I LOVE MATT LIGHT!!! HAHAHA!!!"
"Oh good!" she said. "That makes two of us!"
So I basically spent the next hour and a half chatting with Matt Light's mom. She was heading to her mother's in Dunedin. I said "Oh, my mother lives in Dunedin too!" She said she was heading to Curlew Road. I said "Oh my nephew's daycare is over off Curlew Road!" She showed me pictures on her cell phone of her giant, legendary son holding his own son, and a nephew.
At some point (thinking specifically of Anne Marie), I told her, "You know, a few years ago, we talked about Matt Light more for his giant shaggy beard than for his playing!"
"Oh that beard! I hated that horrible thing!"
"Haha, I bet! It was so red and shaggy and hanging out under his helmet. But he wasn't the only one who had one..."
"He always has some gimmick. That was his idea you know, getting the other guys to grow one too. It's always a beard, or a long mustache, or who knows what."
We talked extensively about the team, about the coaching, about a season without Tom Brady. We discussed how we didn't want to talk about the Dolphins (sore issue) or the Giants (even more sore), although I did tell her what I'd heard about the Giants victory parade being rained on but confetti that wasn't fully shredded, raining people's divorce decrees and social security numbers down onto the city. "At least in Boston, we do it right." I told her about my nephew having more patriots and red sox attire when he was still in the womb than the rest of us will have in our lifetime.
After a while, the talk turned away from Matt Light, onto other things like New York subways, and Matt's siblings and their children, and life in Boston, and how annoying GPS can be when it's wrong, and how cute and lovely downtown Dunedin is, etc. The shuttle ride was 2 hours long (despite my 30 minute proximity to the airport), and on any other day I would have been furious. But this time, I didn't mind so much. As I told my cousin in a midnight text message, "The shuttle ride sucked, but I met Matt Light's mom!"
I gave the Super Shuttle woman my confirmation number, and she gave me my receipt. I wheeled my bags over to a bench and took a seat next to a petite, grey-haired woman. As I sat, I noticed her red suitcase and its Patriots luggage tag.
"Oh, I'll sit next to a Patriots fan any day!" I said to her.
"Oh, are you a Patriots fan? Where are you from?" she asked.
"Boston area. Born and raised. Where are you from?
"Well, I'm from Ohio," she told me. "But my son plays for the Patriots."
This, naturally, piqued my interest. Judging from her tiny frame, I assumed she was about to name some third-string rookie who I've never heard of. But I asked anyway...
"Oh really? Who's your son?"
"Matt Light."
"MATT LIGHT!!! I LOVE MATT LIGHT!!! HAHAHA!!!"
"Oh good!" she said. "That makes two of us!"
So I basically spent the next hour and a half chatting with Matt Light's mom. She was heading to her mother's in Dunedin. I said "Oh, my mother lives in Dunedin too!" She said she was heading to Curlew Road. I said "Oh my nephew's daycare is over off Curlew Road!" She showed me pictures on her cell phone of her giant, legendary son holding his own son, and a nephew.
At some point (thinking specifically of Anne Marie), I told her, "You know, a few years ago, we talked about Matt Light more for his giant shaggy beard than for his playing!"
"Oh that beard! I hated that horrible thing!"
"Haha, I bet! It was so red and shaggy and hanging out under his helmet. But he wasn't the only one who had one..."
"He always has some gimmick. That was his idea you know, getting the other guys to grow one too. It's always a beard, or a long mustache, or who knows what."
We talked extensively about the team, about the coaching, about a season without Tom Brady. We discussed how we didn't want to talk about the Dolphins (sore issue) or the Giants (even more sore), although I did tell her what I'd heard about the Giants victory parade being rained on but confetti that wasn't fully shredded, raining people's divorce decrees and social security numbers down onto the city. "At least in Boston, we do it right." I told her about my nephew having more patriots and red sox attire when he was still in the womb than the rest of us will have in our lifetime.
After a while, the talk turned away from Matt Light, onto other things like New York subways, and Matt's siblings and their children, and life in Boston, and how annoying GPS can be when it's wrong, and how cute and lovely downtown Dunedin is, etc. The shuttle ride was 2 hours long (despite my 30 minute proximity to the airport), and on any other day I would have been furious. But this time, I didn't mind so much. As I told my cousin in a midnight text message, "The shuttle ride sucked, but I met Matt Light's mom!"
9.21.2008
a table for four...minutes?
one of my annual thrills in new york is attending the san gennaro festival in little italy. it is there that i consume uncharacteristic amounts of fried oreos covered in powdered sugar, as well as other novelties like cannolis, zeppoles, torrone, and maybe a bite of a sausage. you will not, at any other time of year, find me so eager to eat street food.
during san gennaro, all the restauraunts in little italy expand. the streets are closed to cars, so the restaurants take over the sidewalks and sometimes the streets, building a temporary veranda for the week.
one of the drawbacks, however, is this...
when a restaurant expands into the street, the street becomes part of the decorative ambiance. so you, dear customer, may find yourself enjoying the gnocchi with vodka sauce, while sipping a glass of chianti and asking for more freshly grated parmesan, and you turn to your left to ask Joe a question, but....you can't see him, because there's a parking meter between you.
what I wonder is, do you have to feed the meter to sit at this table?
during san gennaro, all the restauraunts in little italy expand. the streets are closed to cars, so the restaurants take over the sidewalks and sometimes the streets, building a temporary veranda for the week.
one of the drawbacks, however, is this...
when a restaurant expands into the street, the street becomes part of the decorative ambiance. so you, dear customer, may find yourself enjoying the gnocchi with vodka sauce, while sipping a glass of chianti and asking for more freshly grated parmesan, and you turn to your left to ask Joe a question, but....you can't see him, because there's a parking meter between you.
what I wonder is, do you have to feed the meter to sit at this table?
9.19.2008
does this bus go to crazytown?
So I'm waiting outside this building to meet the realtor to sign papers, and there's this lady at the bus stop on the corner. She asks me if this bus line will take her to the subway, and even though I don't know this neighborhood at all, I saw the bus when I got off the train, so I say yes.
"I'm celebratin today!" she tells me. "It's my grandmother's 100th birthday!"
"That's amazing!" I respond to her.
"She's not alive," she continues. "But I celebrate anyways. Her name is Nancy."
Now I know I've got a live one here. She stands out waiting for the bus for a minute, then comes back to tell me more...
"I know Donald Trunk," she says next. "I never met him but I know him. If I ever meet him I tell him three things: I love you, and keep doin what you doin."
At this point, I pretend to be very busy with my blackberry, but that doesn't stop her.
As she drew her next breath, my realtor pulled up at the bus stop and signaled to me that he had to park and would be right back. She momentarily redirected her dialogue to tell me he was cute before then asking me if I lived in the building, cuz you must have money to live in a building like that.
"I'm rich. I got twins in my family. I'm not from here. I'm from Alabama. That's why I aksed you how to get to the subway. My twin sister is in Atlantic City. I aksed my ma 'where's my sister? I up visitin from Alabama, so why aint my sister here to see me?' And you know what she said? She said 'your sister is in Atlantic City, and she won the jackpot so don't expect her anytime soon.' So I know she won somethin. I don't know how much but she better remember her sister."
Thankfully, the realtor appeared a moment later and got me off the crazy train. I bid farewell to my new friend, and she told me she loved me.
"I'm celebratin today!" she tells me. "It's my grandmother's 100th birthday!"
"That's amazing!" I respond to her.
"She's not alive," she continues. "But I celebrate anyways. Her name is Nancy."
Now I know I've got a live one here. She stands out waiting for the bus for a minute, then comes back to tell me more...
"I know Donald Trunk," she says next. "I never met him but I know him. If I ever meet him I tell him three things: I love you, and keep doin what you doin."
At this point, I pretend to be very busy with my blackberry, but that doesn't stop her.
As she drew her next breath, my realtor pulled up at the bus stop and signaled to me that he had to park and would be right back. She momentarily redirected her dialogue to tell me he was cute before then asking me if I lived in the building, cuz you must have money to live in a building like that.
"I'm rich. I got twins in my family. I'm not from here. I'm from Alabama. That's why I aksed you how to get to the subway. My twin sister is in Atlantic City. I aksed my ma 'where's my sister? I up visitin from Alabama, so why aint my sister here to see me?' And you know what she said? She said 'your sister is in Atlantic City, and she won the jackpot so don't expect her anytime soon.' So I know she won somethin. I don't know how much but she better remember her sister."
Thankfully, the realtor appeared a moment later and got me off the crazy train. I bid farewell to my new friend, and she told me she loved me.
9.15.2008
application status: pending
Ladies and gentlemen, I believe I've found my new home.
I called the broker of the apartment I looked at this afternoon, and I told him I wanted it. I spent the last 2 hours trying to gather digital versions of all my required paperwork (canceled rent checks, job offer letter, two years of tax returns, retinal scan, etc) and faxing them in with my application. Now I wait...
The new apartment, interestingly enough, is quite literally across the street from my old apartment. The addresses have a mere 24 units difference, which in this city, is practically the same building. So I'm excited.
I liked that neighborhood and its uncharacteristically large supermarkets (huge!) and proximity to the park (1/2 block!). Ooh, and that chinese place with the enormous, AWESOME steamed pork dumplings. And that other spot with the unbelieveable fluffy light guacamole. Oh yeah, I'm diggin' it. Big time!
But I have to remember it's not mine yet. Still waiting for the stamp of approval, at which time I sign over a sickening sum of money and my second-born child. (The first one was already signed over by a previous rental broker.)
I called the broker of the apartment I looked at this afternoon, and I told him I wanted it. I spent the last 2 hours trying to gather digital versions of all my required paperwork (canceled rent checks, job offer letter, two years of tax returns, retinal scan, etc) and faxing them in with my application. Now I wait...
The new apartment, interestingly enough, is quite literally across the street from my old apartment. The addresses have a mere 24 units difference, which in this city, is practically the same building. So I'm excited.
I liked that neighborhood and its uncharacteristically large supermarkets (huge!) and proximity to the park (1/2 block!). Ooh, and that chinese place with the enormous, AWESOME steamed pork dumplings. And that other spot with the unbelieveable fluffy light guacamole. Oh yeah, I'm diggin' it. Big time!
But I have to remember it's not mine yet. Still waiting for the stamp of approval, at which time I sign over a sickening sum of money and my second-born child. (The first one was already signed over by a previous rental broker.)
9.12.2008
the more things change...
the more things change, the more the stay the same.
if i waited two more months, i could say that i was here for a year. but...that didn't happen. and it won't. i'll be leaving florida about 11 months after i arrived.
i got a job offer in new york and i'm heading back up thatta way. i don't know yet where i'll live, or when i'll move, or any of the details in between. hopefully i'll figure that out in the very near future.
in the meantime, i'll be back to my old tricks again, like this, and this, so please forgive me in advance for being totally insane.
if i waited two more months, i could say that i was here for a year. but...that didn't happen. and it won't. i'll be leaving florida about 11 months after i arrived.
i got a job offer in new york and i'm heading back up thatta way. i don't know yet where i'll live, or when i'll move, or any of the details in between. hopefully i'll figure that out in the very near future.
in the meantime, i'll be back to my old tricks again, like this, and this, so please forgive me in advance for being totally insane.
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