The Coyote’s After You.

This blog entry will be updated as this personal saga continues.  We have Time Warner Roadrunner high speed (“turbo”!) Internet service. As of 2130 last night the speeds were down to a crawl. I called the local service number at 2210 after using my considerable geek skills to diagnose the issue: packet loss due to poor signal strength on the modem. Rebooting five times did not resolve the issue. Isolating the network to just one computer hooked to the modem resulted in the same deal. I was going to have to call.

Tue 10 Aug 10

2210: Dial my 10 digit home number, 2, 1, 2, 4. Waited on hold for 35 minutes listening to a badly chopped up marketing message and then I hung up. I know why the marketing message was chopped up and I can’t believe they’re still using that service.

Wed 11 Aug 10

0536: same dialing deal. Todd in Albany. Confirms my issues. Next appointment is between 0800 and 1200 on Tue 17 Aug. Call back after 0600 to talk to someone local since he’s on a skeleton crew and can’t really do much. A 24/7 service does not deserve 24/7 support.

0601: same dialing deal. Nancy. Use of IM makes me suspect she’s working from home. She needs me home phone number (even though I just typed it in) to confirm I am who I am. She says Tue 17 Aug because my speeds are slow instead of down completely. I offer to go outside and fully break it. She gasps. I ask for someone on the 13th since we can have someone at the house then. She says no, I have to be home today, take it or leave it. I lie and say yes though no one will be home. She’s not technical. No shit, but I give her credit for being mechanical.

0707: home phone, 2 1 2 2 4. Joe after 8 minute wait. In order to get an evening appointment you have to schedule your outage or trouble call in advance. (I wish I was joking about that). Reschedule for 13 Fri between 1000 and 1200. That sucks but because I didn’t plan my broken connection in advance its the best I can do. Apparently new customers are more important.

1244: An internal spy at Time Warner has confirmed that it looks like I have a problem in the outside wiring and that the 13th is the earliest date I can have for a trouble call. I appreciate the update very much but really? 48 hours is the earliest you can have someone out there? That makes me really want to sign up for that digital phone service the chopped up marketing message was trying to sell me.

Passengers.

A JetBlue flight attendant lost it on a passenger who was trying to get up and get his luggage when he shouldn’t have been. Said flight attendant approach the passenger, who was pulling his luggage out of the overhead compartment and hit the flight attendant in the head (probably on accident). The flight attendant asked for an apology, the passenger had some more clever words to say, so the flight attendant then spewed some profanity over the PA system and in one of the best dramatic exits in a while, opened an emergency exit and slid down the chute and went home.

The plane had already landed at JFK when this occurred.

While I do find the exit and slide to be a little much, I must say that I don’t blame the flight attendant one bit. Airline passengers are a bit hard to take these days and quite frankly if everyone would remember that the flight attendants’ primary job is to keep everyone onboard safe instead of just handing out bags of chips and half cans of a pop, the travel world would be a happier place.

Yes, security is ridiculous and airlines charge too much and screaming kids ruin everything but you know what, no one is forcing you on that plane and unless you’re hopping a pond somewhere, you can damn well drive or teleconference or look at someone else’s postcards of Disney World. So when the flight attendant tells you to sit down, put your seat belt on and enjoy a rerun of “Seinfeld”, you better well do it.

And count your blessings that the queen on the slide today didn’t really go postal and do some serious damage.

Proud.

What have you done today to make you feel proud?

 

Heather Small, "Proud" (2005)

Bucket.

I mentioned to Earl last night that it had been a long, long while since we had a bucket of supper so tonight he made a run to the local Kentucky Fried Chicken for just that: a bucket of supper.

I don’t know if it was the mention of such a supper in a Reba song I was listening to the other day that jogged a memory or two of enjoying a bucket of chicken with the family when I was a kid but something made me crave a choice of original or extra crispy. I remember sharing a couple of buckets of chicken at Grandma City’s house on a Saturday night or Sunday afternoon on a couple of occasions. The Kentucky Fried Chicken wasn’t too far away; since this was the mid to late 1970s it was the older style establishment with the big bucket on top of the pole. This particular restaurant sat on the corner of Old Liverpool Road and the then-modern-sounding Electronics Parkway (which led to Electronics Park). I don’t remember the restaurant having a seating area but since it was 35 years or so ago, my memories might be a little hazy.

Earl and I took a somewhat healthy approach to our bucket of supper tonight: we supplemented the chicken with green beans and cole slaw. There were no mashed potatoes or gravy to be found. That’s okay though because it was just as good as I remembered it back in the day.

From Picasa Web.

Control.

Last night I made a stop at the Amish baked good stand to pick up our weekly stash of homemade pies. I brought home a blackberry and an apple crisp pie. Both look delicious. I have sampled the apple crisp pie and I have to say that it lives up to my expectations.

I have a lot of respect for the Amish. They do their thing in their definition of life and they stick to their beliefs despite all the chaos going on around them. They live their lives the way that they choose to and while I might not agree with some of their beliefs (and they probably wouldn’t agree with many of mine), their adherence to their lifestyle is worthy of my respect. I think that there is a lot that we could learn from them.

The first time I stopped at their road side stand I ended the exchange with the young girl with a kind “Have a nice weekend!”. Her response was simple: “Yes.” The sound and tone of it wavered somewhere between Bea Arthur as Dorothy and Suzanne Plechette as Emily and she cast her eyes away from me. I smiled nervously and walked back to the car, where I promptly realized that perhaps the weekend did not carry the joyful significance for her as it did for me, so I filed this speculative thought away for future reference.

Last week when I stopped at the stand (blueberry and cherry), a different girl greeted me and her demeanor was a little more lively. The order came to $7.25, she gave me back $2.25 and then quickly corrected her mistake with a giggle and the right amount of change. I simply said “thank you.” Her response was a smile, but silence. She appeared to look over my right shoulder.

Last night we were back to the original girl and I slightly changed my approach by saying “have a nice night.”  Again, she responded with a simple “yes” with her eyes cast downward.

Quite frankly this is perplexing me.

I have a small worry about traveling outside of English-speaking countries. While I want to see the world and all that it offers, I don’t want to make the people in the country where I am a guest uncomfortable by being a typical American, because I don’t see myself as typical in any way. This concern of discomfort stems from my lack of language skills; I barely have command of the English language let alone any other sort of language. I guess that’s why I think of traveling to places like Canada, Ireland, Australia, Wichita, the Carolinas and the like; while I might sound a little funny in those places, I shouldn’t offend anyone with what I have to say because that common ground of English is present. I also feel kind of foolish because while we expect everyone else in the world to know their own language and a command of ours, the typical American only speaks our mangling of the English language.

I also don’t like the lack of control I think I have by not knowing what is being said around me. I live by the credo of “always be aware of your surroundings.” I listen to every conversation, I read body language of everyone around me, I know where the emergency exits are, even if they are in an aisle behind me and I tune into the vibe of any given space so I can use my chameleon skills to blend into the surroundings if necessary. I have control issues, I freely admit that, and when I don’t have control I am uncomfortable because I can’t control whether I’m making other people uncomfortable or not.

As I said earlier, I have a lot of respect for the Amish and I admire what they bring to our area. I also really like their pies and breads. And I don’t want to make them uncomfortable when we meet, even if it’s for less than two minutes.

Perhaps there isn’t a proper way to bring a transaction to an end aside from just saying “Thank you”. It could be that this young woman is quite comfortable with our little transaction and she is adhering to a custom that I am unaware of. The control freak in me says that I need to do some research online and get comfortable with the fact that I’m not overstepping any boundaries and if I am, I need to correct it.

Gorgeous.

I am sitting outside in the grass during my lunch hour. The weather is picture perfect as far as I’m concerned: sunny, blue sky with puffy clouds and a pretty good breeze to keep the air fairly dry. Bill Gates once remarked that the default desktop background on Windows XP (called “Bliss”) was inspired by sitting and watching the clouds go by. It was one of his favorite activities as a kid. I have to admit that it was one of my favorite activities as a kid as well and doing it during my lunch hour today is making me feel like a kid again.

I’d show you a picture but I’m too comfortable to get up, go to the car, grab the camera and share a shot. So I’m going to keep this one just for me.

And then I’ll probably change my desktop background to the default “Bliss” when I get back to the office.

Motion.



Motion., originally uploaded by DJ SuperCub.

I have recently given up talking and texting whilst driving. It wasn’t the speeding ticket that prompted this change in attitude (not that I did it that much anyways), rather, it’s just common sense to pay attention to what you’re doing while you’re driving.

That being said, I couldn’t resist taking this photo this morning because I thought it might come out cool. I did all the camera settings before I left for work and then put the camera on timer and set it on the dash. So aside from the quick fiddling of putting the camera on the dash, I paid attention to my driving the entire time.

I thought the picture came out pretty good.

Vendetta.

As a club DJ of nearly 20 years or so, I was a baby DJ when Black Box hit the dance floors with their first hit “Ride On Time”. The track is recognisable to just about anyone that stepped foot in a dance club back in 1990 and is based on samples from the disco hit “Love Sensation” by Loleatta Holloway. The same disco song is sampled in “Good Vibrations” by Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch AND “I Don’t Know Anybody Else”, also by the aforementioned Black Box.

Black Box was big on looking good; even though it’s clearly Loleatta’s vocals in the track, they put this waify looking model named Katrin up on stage and had her lip sync the vocals a la Milli Vanilli. Back then, she was claiming to be the vocalist which made DJs and many of the gays rowdy because we all knew better. (By the way, she couldn’t speak English when interviewed after performing the songs). As an added bonus, permission was never obtained to use Loleatta’s vocals on “Ride On Time” and there were many lawsuits. Martha Wash also went through a whole bunch of stuff with Black Box (and C&C Music Factory come to thing about it), because they didn’t credit her for singing leads on just about the entire “Dreamland” album from Black Box and they claimed the waify woman could sing like Martha Wash too. Quick aside, I have met Loleatta in person and she’s fun and I know people that have met Martha and she’s fun too.

Because “Ride On Time” was such a good track, they re-recorded it with Heather Small (from the group “M-People” and then later her solo hit “Proud”) with just a hint of Loleatta’s sample (after she was properly paid) underneath the vocals to keep it familiar. When all was said and done, Martha Wash was paid and recognized for her work as well.

Anyways, I occasionally enjoy listening to some of these old tracks by watching the videos on YouTube and I still get angry at that fake singer up on stage claiming to be Loleatta/Martha/Heather, depending on the song. So then I write a snarky comment down where you’re allowed to do such things and then I move to a different video and my slight bit of anger subsides. I know it’s been 20 years, but deception doesn’t age well.

Moral of this story? Be real.

Here’s the re-released version with Heather Small on vocals and that waify bitch faking the whole thing. By the way, many claim that the waify bitch was first a man and then became a woman, and while I could see that, a transsexual operation would be too good for her.

Trust.

On October 13, 1996 Earl and I climbed to the top of Rocky Mountain Point in the beautiful Adirondacks. It was a cool, crisp, yet gorgeous day and though the climb was slow, the view at the top was stunning. It was that day, on that mountain, that I got down on my knee and proposed to my then boyfriend.

“Don’t ask it unless you mean it”, was his first response. The second part is history.

On December 26, 1996, overlooking the Delaware River at Penn’s Landing in Philadelphia, I placed a gold wedding band on Earl’s finger and he reciprocated by doing the same for me. The ceremony was of our own design and with little fanfare. We said the things we wanted to say to symbolize the permanent union that began with that moment.

Since 1996, our relationship has grown exponentially and in ways I never thought possible. We survived owning a business together, purchasing two houses, six cars, countless electronics and doodads and like most couples we have had many, many “ups”. We have laughed, we’ve celebrated, we’ve rejoiced and yes, we’ve had our squabbles and our tears. I can be an ass, he can be a jerk, but more importantly we are each other’s counterpart in our relationship. The one percent of “bad” (for lack of a better word) is nothing compared to the 99 percent of good.

There is one thing that remains constant in our ever-changing life, and that is love. I have gotten in the habit of saying to him in the morning, “it happened again.” He says, “What?” and then I say, “I fell in love with you again this morning.” And then we smile and embrace.

Our love for one another is fueled by never-ending trust. I trust Earl more than any other human being on the planet and this will never change. I am always honest with him and he is always honest with me. There’s no compromise in the wording of that preceding statement; it’s just a fact. Without trust in the foundation of a relationship, the rest of it is going to wobble. No trust, no dice.

It occasionally gives people pause when I mention that I am going away for a weekend without Earl or vice-versa. I might go off for a multi-day road trip where quite frankly, he would be bored to tears as I drove mile after mile of interstate and rural highway exploring towns that are really no different than any other town or looking at construction projects or even hanging out with friends by swinging from the chandeliers in another state. On the other hand, he might go to a bear run or to Vegas or to any other place with my consent where I have little interest in going. Some think this may be a sign of a change in our relationship. It’s not. It’s a symbol. It’s a symbol of the trust we have in one another.

No two relationships are alike. My city grandparents certainly had a different marriage than my country grandparents and my parents certainly didn’t emulate either of those relationships. Earl and I have our relationship. And it is glorious and magnificent and more importantly, unique to us. What we have is what we want, with no secrets or deception but with lots of trust and undying love.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Courtesy.

I would like to take a few moments and review some very basic principles on how to conduct yourself at a local restaurant during the busy lunch hour. The restaurant in question is my beloved Subway in Johnstown, New York, which is owned by Chris and Jami. This Subway is nothing short of outstanding and should be treated with the respect and courtesy deserving of what is probably one of the finest Subway restaurants in the chain.

Let’s start at the very beginning, since it’s a very good place to start.

First of all, this fine city in the foothills of the Adirondacks is on the way to one of the more popular tourist destinations in the northeast. Therefore, many choose to stop at one of the fine restaurants as they make their way up to vacation time. My first tip: a Ford F350 that is towing a 30-foot Prowler camper, which is towing a speed boat, which in turn is towing a VW Rabbit from some bygone era (we won’t mention the handicapped plates on the Rabbit) is not going fit into the reserved parking spot near the front door for the not mentioned handicapped consumer. You’re going to have to find a different parking spot; may I suggest somewhere in New Jersey, as I hear the Jersey Shore has a lot of ocean to enjoy, unless you go to the Jersey Shore in Pennsylvania by mistake.

Once in line to order your food, please stow your cell phone. No one wants to hear your conversation as everyone has a cell phone now and unless you’re doing a reenactment of Zach’s role on “Saved By The Bell”, you’re not special for having a phone. In fact, talking on the phone whilst in line is quite rude. Might I suggest that you shove the device squarely up your ass and let the caller listen to your bad gas since you chose to share with the rest of the line whilst you were on the phone.

Like most Subway restaurants, Chris and Jami have a beautiful menu with appetizing pictures of their selections as well as a complete list of everything they offer. Nowhere, and believe me, I had time to look while you were making up your mind, is there even a suggestion that “french fries” are available to order.

Since the primary reason Subway exists is to sell sandwiches, chances are there is going to be some bread involved. A look of bewilderment should not be your answer to “what kind of bread would you like?” Now I know that Subway offers more choices for bread than the number of choices on your average American ballot for President, but try. And again, there’s pictures AND words right smack in front of you. Point if you have to.

I’m not going to dwell on the fact that yes, a toasted sub is hot.

Even though Chris and Jami have chosen to display their vegetables in a very eye pleasing manner, they’re still vegetables. They won’t dance. They won’t sing. They taste the same as the frozen veggies that you may thaw someday or god forbid, something you grew in your garden. Lettuce is lettuce.

When you get to the register, you will be asked if you have a Subway card. This gives you the opportunity for ‘frequent flyer miles’ to accompany your Subway purchase. The question posed to you has two answers: yes or no. If the first thought that comes to your mind is, “What is it?”, then the answer is “no”. Again, the simple creed of being aware of your surroundings would answer any other question as there is a rack in front of you with hundreds of cards to choose from. If you don’t have a card, grab it and have the cashier swipe it. See there? You can make your answer a simple “yes” with a little forethought.

Now, I know this last part is a little tricky, but try to stay focused. If you purchase a meal, you will be handed a cup. From there, proceed to the drink station, where you have a wide selection of soda pop or iced teas. There is plenty of ice, covers for your cup and an assortment of straws covered for sanitary purposes. Every pop dispenser says “push”. Waving the cup under the spigot is going to accomplish nothing. I will push the button for you for no more than one second before giving you a deadly glare and simply stating one word, “Really?”

Heed my advice and you’ll be a smart Subway consumer in no time. Ignore my advice and consider yourself warned.