I have fallen, hard, for the XBox 360 Simon received for his birthday.
You see, it has arcade games on it. Feeding Frenzy is the current addiction.
Simon and I have never fought over one of his consoles before. But this one calls to me. It is so.much.fun.
We don’t actually fight over it. I say ‘Let me play!’ and he does. Sometimes.
And yes, that means we now have 6 games consoles in our house: Xbox, XBox 360, PS2, PSP and 2 DS Lites. Us? Play games? NEVER!
So, the lift in our building has mental issues.
It has one of those mechanical voices to tell you what floor you are on. No problem, right? Wrong.
The day we moved in it called our floor, the 6th, the 2nd Sub-Basement. There isn’t even one sub-basement in our building, never mind two.
Then, on occasion, it announces the third floor, as you ride past it. Not when stopping at it, just to note that it is there, I guess.
Oh, and it always says going down. Even when you are at the basement.
I really hope there are no sight impaired people in our building. Cuz they would never get the right floor.
Nothing is perfect, right? So what don’t I like about our new flat?
The bathroom floor in the ensuite is blue. So no matter how often I mop/sweep it, it never looks clean to me. One dropped spot of water (and really, how do you get out of the shower and not drip water on the floor?) and you can see it against the blue after it dries.
Our kitchen sink is even shallower than the old one. I didn’t think that was even possible. It is a bit wider, but not deep enough at all.
On the one hand I adore our bare floors. I have always liked the hardwood floor look. But it needs constant attention, whether sweeping or hoovering. That I don’t like.
The land lord keeps forgetting to notify us about the change of the code on the front entrance door. Haven’t gotten one yet for tomorrow. Should be fun getting into the building tomorrow.
Black kitchen floor. See blue bathroom floor above.
So, overall I adore this place. Its just little things that get to me.
1.) Our Easter Leg of Lamb said that it would feed 131 people and to cook it for 6 – 10 minutes. Yup, labels backwards.
2.) Simon’s ‘invite a friend’ vouchers for Love Film were addressed to him on the envelope, but to some woman named Kristen in the letter. Can you tell they don’t use humans to stuff envelopes?
3.) Conversation with Simon as we walk down the street: –
Simon: Was that thunder?
Robyn: No, an airplane. There is no hot front to hit the cold front to make the thunder and lightening.
Simon: Very very frightening.
Robyn: Oh Galileo.
4.) Someone hung the ‘This building protected by CCTV’ sign in our lobby up side down.
I often ask myself why? Not ‘why is the sky blue’ or ‘why is the ocean salty’ as these have scientific answers.
No, I ask myself, why is talking about sex with your children embarrassing? Why is it ‘those’ parts of the body that are ‘private’? Why do some people hate other people just because of their skin/beliefs/way of life?
I once read a short story, the name of which escapes…hang on, internet, google…let me go look…don’t go away…never mind, can’t find it…anyway, in the short story sex, any sex, was open and public. Thoughts and ideas, however, were private. The story is set in a classroom, during what I guess could be called Thought Ed (like SexEd, get it?) and there is a girl expounding on the idea that perhaps in a parallel world, sex is private and thoughts are public. The teacher kisses her to get her to be quiet.
So what skews our world, our part of the multiverse (tm RAH), to sex being private and thoughts being public? You can’t just say, ‘The Bible’, and be done with it, since The Bible, meaning the Old and New Testaments, isn’t used every where in our world. But you certainly won’t find a teacher kissing a student to shut them up in our world…or if you know of a place, send me the address, k?
So that leads to my third ‘why’ above. Why be mean/hate/kill someone if they believe different from you? What does that prove? That you’re right and they’re wrong? That you have a bigger gun?
Getting back to RAH…oh, sorry, Robert A Heinlein, for the non-sci fi geeks in the audience…there is a scene in Stranger in a Strange Land (and read the unedited version if you haven’t yet) where Mike, the Man from Mars, is trying to understand how every religion on earth can honestly believe that their god is the true god and all of the rest are false. This is not possible, to his logical, Martian raised mind. On Mars, according to Mike (and RAH, obviously) there is one religion. The tenet? Thou Art God. You, Me, Him, Her. All. Apparently it works out much neater if you can say it in Martian. Really need to find time to learn Martian.
Anyway, while I don’t think everyone can be god, cuz, by definition, aren’t gods omnipotent and omniscient? And, ya know, human here, but I do think that all gods are true gods. If you believe, then your god is true.
And who does it hurt if people believe this? Is my god so weak that your god makes him weaker?
So…why?
who sent him an XBox 360 for his birthday. The graphics are, indeed, amazing.
In other news, my temp receptionist didn’t bother to show up today. I was not pleased. Someone else is coming down tomorrow. I don’t even want to pay the other girl for the one day she did work.
I don’t get that. Just not showing up. I’ve temped and yes, I’ve called off days when temping, but I have never just not shown up. That’s the nice thing about temping, you can call your agency and say “nope, don’t wanna go there any more”. But at least call!
And then I was covering reception and found a folder full of pictures she had downloaded onto the reception computer. Not dirty pictures, that would’ve really made me angry, just pictures of her and her friends. Why would you do that? Especially if you weren’t going to show up the next day.
So my day was less than wonderful, as I hate covering reception. Despise it. With a grand passion.
Hopefully the other girl will show up tomorrow.
Our CEO volunteered his partners two teenagers to come in during half term and help me do some filing and clearing up. It is totally boring work and they are doing an excellent job for me.
One of the file drawers we are going through belonged to my old boss and now belongs to my new boss. My old boss swore on the grave of all he held holy that he had cleaned it out before he left. No. He didn’t.
I am finding the oddest things. Letters that refer to other letters in vague ways that don’t tell me what exactly they are referring to. Pieces of accounting information that also seem to have no rhyme or reason. I am making a “New Boss, go through this and see if I can destroy it” pile. I am hoping to put most of it into the To Be Shredded Box.
I also currently have two temps at reception, which I swear I will never let happen again. I have spent half my day running to reception to fix issues.
So I am exhausted. But Simon got his Season 3 DVDs of Doctor Who. So I need to go watch.
But I am going to write it anyway.
On the bus yesterday there was a child, about 6 – 8 years old, who kept saying “Daddy, daddy, look daddy, look at that daddy, what’s that daddy” over and over and over again, as loud as possible. Based on the way he was talking, he was certainly old enough to be told to use his inside voice. His daddy just let him be loud.
I have posted about this child over on Modern Etiquette and Manners, the Etiquette forum I help moderate, and have gotten 2 responses that chaff my hide (heh, I think I’ve been reading Confessions of a Pioneer Woman too much!). One response was, how do you know the child isn’t impaired. The other one was perhaps he was younger then he appeared.
Let’s take these one at a time; even impaired children need to learn how to act in public. Yelling in public is not acceptable (unless it is a yelling place, such as a sports venue) by anyone. It disturbs others. It hurts people’s ears. It is rude. Even an impaired child needs to learn this if he (note: I am using he as it is easier than he/she) is ever going to get along in society. And if he can’t learn this? Perhaps he shouldn’t be in society. A good friend of mine has 1 child with aspergers and two others with at least ADD (they are too young to test further at the moment) and yet all three of them know what is appropriate behavior in public. And they are impaired.
Let’s not also forget that, technically, I am impaired. I have a real, diagnosed mental illness that makes me freak a bit in public at times. But do I let my freaking effect those around me? I do not. Why not? Because I have been taught how to act in public by my parents.
As to looking older than he is; if he can speak as well as this child was speaking, there was no way he was much younger than he appeared. And even if he is, I think any child over the age of about 2 can be told to use their inside voice. I know my nieces have been being told that for at least that long. And they did learn to do so. How? Repetition. Telling them over and over, when they yelled, to use their inside voice. It can be done with a young child. I’ve seen it first hand.
I can here the critics now ‘but you have no children Robyn, how the hell would you know?’ I don’t have to have children to be able to tell when a child is not being parented. All I have to do is go out into the world and observe behavior that would have gotten me hauled home, my mother to embarrassed to continue to do what she is doing.
And I don’t need to be a parent to know that screaming at the top of your lungs on the bus is not appropriate behavior. Ever.
Today is my husband’s birthday. He’s 34. I robbed the cradle.
I would tell you what I got him, only we’re in Derry and his gift is in Belfast and he might read this before we get home. He’ll like it, though!
Also, today is Alyson Hannigan’s birthday. She is also 34. My husband likes this, that he shares a birthday with Alyson Hannigan, I mean. I think mostly because then he can put this post at Whendonesque. He’s on staff over there.
And there you go, love. A birthday wish and TWO links to Whedonesque. How’s that for a birthday present?
to visit Simon’s parents for Easter.
Derry (official name Londonderry) is an interesting place, a walled city, where all the violence started 40 years ago, give or take.
If you ever go, let me know and I’ll hook you up with my father in law, who is an expert in the conflict and will take you to the wall and point out to you the exact spot it all erupted. Okay, well maybe I won’t do that, because I might not actually know you in real life and I’d hate to inflict strangers on him!
Anyway, the real ongoing conflict of the city is what to call it. Londonderry or Derry. London implies, of course, English rule. This pisses some people off. Officially it is Londonderry, but some people are so opposed to the name that one of them actually stopped at all of the signs along the main road to the city and spray painted out the ‘London’. I kid you not.
I don’t really get the random acts of violence decision. I mean, okay if I kill everyone who disagrees with me, eventually everyone will agree with me. It just sounds exhausting to me, to hate other people that much. Why not have a pint and you live your life and I’ll live mine.
Obviously that is very simplified. The causes and consequences of war, any war, even the war on terrorism, are many and varied and intricate.
But why do they have to be?