Saturday, March 1, 2003
Oh Just Great
Now when some yuppie assclown is doing a search on "Online Network Development Solutions" he'll find this site. Just frickin' great.
I'm thinking of putting all possible permutations of those words on one page. Just to f*ck with search engines. And the dweebs that are into that kind of sh*t.
I'm just very angry today. Don't know why.
My dog died. Our president is a peabrain. I have reason to be angry.
Posted by Ann on 03/01/03@05:39 PM CST ..::Link::..
Creative Integrated Online Digital Bullshit Development Management Solutions
OK, excuse me while I flip out similar to what Stan did a few weeks ago, but I am so damn sick of all these formerly COOL software companies turning so frickin' corporate with their "management solutions" and "creative development" and "workflow resources" and their other limited vocabulary of corpspeak.
Assignment for the day:
Workflow Development Solutions Systems Provider Resources
Rearrange any of those six words in any order and in any combination of two or more to create a new corporate slogan for your company!
Choose any of the following words for your slogan to add pizazz and make yours stand out from the crowd:
Creative Digital Online Integrated Network Management
You know what's funny is to plug any combination of those words (I even tried it with all twelve!) into Google and watch all the BS that spews forth.
Posted by Ann on 03/01/03@02:44 PM CST ..::Link::..
DREAM - How can you have your story if you won't write your plot? How can you have a plot if you won't let me create the characters?
It was pretty vague, but I remember being with a bunch of people on our front lawn. It was as if there were two parts to the dream going on simultaneously. First, there was the part where the people were like a high school class of mine, like creative writing or drama...similar people, same teacher (in high school, the same woman taught both). The teacher was organizing us into writing a story. She took charge of writing the plotline, and she asked for volunteers for other duties. I volunteered for creating the characters, but I don't think any of the other "students" volunteered for anything. Then she left the "room" (which was our front lawn) and I wanted to get going on character development, so I consulted someone else there--another woman I think, or maybe it was the same teacher, I don't know--and asked her if she wasn't ready to develop a plot, could I at least start coming up with characters. She said that there had to be a plot before there were characters. I was disagreeing with her and telling her that it is completely possible to have characters in mind before you know what they're going to do, and that sometimes a plot evolves out of characters' personalities themselves, rather than the other way around. She kept denying my requests and I was getting rather agitated, and--this is rather funny--I started quoting the line in "Another Brick in the Wall Part II" where the school teacher says "If you don't eat your meat, you can't have any pudding...how can you have any pudding if you don't eat your meat?" I think what I was doing was pointing out the circularity of her argument, that there was not going to be a story until she got her ass in gear to create a plot, but how could there even be the beginnings of a plot when she wouldn't let me create the characters? While this was going on, there was another part of this, and that was there were these people working on my garden out front. There were these immigrant laborers that were pulling things out of shelves or trucks that were arranged around the perimeter of our front lawn, and there were these young women who seemed to be interns for some landscape or horticulture class that were working there too, but there was quite a disparity between the women students and the male workers...it sort of bothered me, and because it was my house that was being landscaped and I was thinking, surely Stan and I could do this ourselves without having to hire people. I think this whole landscaping thing was sponsored by Stan's aunt...she was behind it all, we didn't really have a say in the matter. I felt bad and guilty for hiring people to do the work for us, even if she was paying for it. Also, there was someone there with a large cat, by large cat I mean tiger, leopard, one of those, except the markings or spots were hardly noticeable. But it was that size. It was semidomesticated--they had raised it as a cub, but I was afraid of it because it was not used to me. I didn't want to get near it or have it get near our dogs.
Posted by Ann on 03/01/03@09:37 AM CST ..::Link::..
Friday, February 28, 2003
Yikes...just remembered more of my dream. I dreamt we got the pug back from the vets and he wasn't dead, even though they'd performed that euthanasia procedure on him going into the heart with the serum.
Posted by Ann on 02/28/03@02:52 PM CST ..::Link::..
DREAMs - Dog Houses and more
1) Stan and I were in a grand old house that was tentatively ours. It was like an old manor, and it had a double door for the front entry-way. Once inside, there was a short set of stairs (maybe 8 steps) that led from the front door down to the living area. I also had an English Bulldog. It had a strange sort of body that seemed elongated. Its coloration was also odd; its rear was a dark brown color and there were also lighter colors of brown (a light brown and a greyish brown) on its front part all mixed with cream splotches. I was worried because there was no screen door on the front door (there usually aren't screen doors on the entry of expensive homes, last time I checked) and that the dogs (Plato was there too) could escape if I opened the door for someone. I was telling Stan that we needed to buy a screen door. Then I was upstairs in the house and descending a staircase to the main level...it was as if I was flying down the stairs. I saw that Stan had a bunch of greenish-yellow paint poured all across the floor. I was furious and yelled at him because we hadn't even bought the house yet!
2) Stan had to go someplace to get contacts. We drove to a place that looked like a grocery store, but once inside it was more like a mall. It was the usuall gross mall faire. I remember seeing Stan seated at one of those mall optometrist places. As we were walking around, Stan started falling behind me, looking at displays. The place itself started mutating more into a building on the CSU campus, like the Student center. Stan started mutating into a young woman with long dark curly hair wearing a white dress. I asked "Stan" why he didn't want to walk with me, and I can't remember much of a response. Then he was taking forever looking at something in the building, so I went outside and waited for him there. When he emerged, "he" started walking ahead of me very fast, as if to lose me. I started to yell at him and run after "him." I noticed IRL I was flailing around in bed and woke up with a start.
3) For some reason I was with Stan's biodad, Richard (or someone who resembled him...some aged beat poet professor?). He was sitting at a desk and I gave him a gift of assorted nicknacks in a shoebox. I put the shoebox behind him, and told him to be careful when he turned around not to tip it over. He didn't hear me. Then when he did turn around, I pointed to the shoebox and he seemed surprised.
Posted by Ann on 02/28/03@09:48 AM CST ..::Link::..
Thursday, February 27, 2003
DREAM (I can't think of anything else to decribe it, sorry)
Kind of a bad nightmare dream. For some reason Stan was showing Johanna (who wasn't actually in the dream) some of the creative things he's been doing lately (insect drawings, his writing) but then she leaves (even though she was never really there) and he never asked her if she wanted to see any of the creative things I've been doing. I really resented this and start to yell at him, but the only thing that comes out of my mouth is "You never..." and I repeat it a few times, outloud: "you never! you never!" waking both Stan and I up. Sorry Stan.
Then I went back to sleep and had a strange jumbled up dream. I recall I was at some really retarded party at someone's apartment that was a really gross motel-type apartment (like a converted motel). There was no one there I knew, except later B*tch stopped by and I was actually happy to see her because she was the only one there I knew (just shoot me now). Her ex-husband was peering in the screen and he was mouthing something to me. I couldn't read his lips, however I knew whatever it was, was quite positive intended toward me. I think I also dreamt about my parent's basement and maybe travelling in Colorado.
Posted by Ann on 02/27/03@05:20 PM CST ..::Link::..
Wednesday, February 26, 2003
I stand at the top of the stairs with Plato beside me and hear clicking noises on the first floor. They sound like toenails, dogclaws on the hardwood floor below. Then I realize it's just the rattling old furnace.
Posted by Ann on 02/26/03@02:18 PM CST ..::Link::..
It's the hardest on the days that Stan goes to work early. Those were the days that I fed the dogs in the morning. Stan would take Plato out to pee shortly before he left, and bring Hieronymus from upstairs and put him in the pet taxi downstairs with pillows and bedding (otherwise he'd walk around all over the house with his toenails clicking on the hardwood floor and I wouldn't be able to finish my sleep). When I'd get up, I'd open the pet taxi to release Hieronymus, open the back door to the porch, feed the cats, and try to wrangle Plato out of the porch before I released Hieronymus outside. Then I'd bring the pug back in, and wrangle Hieronymus back inside while I put a leash on Plato (Hieronymus could go leashless out back...he was that well-behaved). Then when Plato was done, I'd fix food for both of them. They'd both stare at me from below, Hieronymus bubbling with anticipation and licking his chops for food. Hieronymus would jump up and down on his hind legs...after he recovered from his accident in 2000 he got his appetite back with a vengeance. He'd growl over his food if Plato tried to come close. They'd devour it greedily, but sometimes Plato was a bit finicky and tip his bowl over in defiance. But when they both finished, they'd then exchange bowls and lick out any remaining residue their dog buddy didn't get. Now there's no wrangling...I just feed the cats and take Plato out and feed him. It's all very simple now. Plato is even being less finicky, maybe because he knows his bowl is the only chance he gets...there's no leftover essence in another bowl anymore. And in the morning when Plato would be lying under the covers at the foot of the bed and the two cats would be walking up and down my blanketed body, I'd hear snorts and snuffles coming out of the kitchen, and I'd know that there's another animal in the house besides the ones in the bedroom with me. But now there's only snorts and snuffles in my mind, and the three animals in the bedroom with me are the only animals.
Maybe if there was some advanced warning, it would've been easier. Although it's good he went so quickly and didn't suffer and linger for weeks, being a seemingly happy, healthy, hungry dog on Friday morning to being put to sleep the following Monday is just way too quick to let it sink in. At least if we'd taken him to the vets and they diagnosed him with having a beginning problem, and then if he got a little more feeble over the course of a few months, that would've been good warning, but literally, there was no warning. It was too fast. And I still haven't caught up.
Posted by Ann on 02/26/03@10:48 AM CST ..::Link::..
DREAM - Wrong Dog
I can't remember too much about this dream. Stan and I were someplace--not home, but I'm not sure where we were, it was like a classroom or an office. There were other people there, and for some reason I think there was something about shoes and eyeglasses, like we were buying them from someone...can't remember. Also, we had wanted to buy a dog, too. I'm not sure whether we were buying it from the same people we were buying the shoes and eyeglasses from, but I suspect we were. Eventually everyone left the room, and Stan and I were the only people there. I guess we decided we didn't want the items, and the dog, which was in a paperbag, was short-nosed as promised, but it had long hair, something I definitely didn't want (like it on men, not on dogs). It was like a shih-tzu/something mix. The fur was ginger colored. Stan and I wanted to leave, but we didn't know what to do with the dog and the other merchandise. Do we just leave it there? Will someone come back to get it? I think a woman eventually did come back--she was one of those skinny, flighty, ditzy but businessy women. I can't remember what happened...woke up, probably.
Posted by Ann on 02/26/03@09:34 AM CST ..::Link::..
Tuesday, February 25, 2003
DREAMs from the past few nights
Feeling sad about the dog and haven't felt much like posting lately, so I saved them up.
Had one of those reocurring dreams with the "endless basement that goes on forever." I was also standing in the basement and Stan was constructing this round red brick wall around me and Plato...sort of like a silo, but it was very low....I guess he didn't have enough bricks.
This was a really freakingly stupid dream. I dreamt I was watching the X-Files, which must've been an extremely recent remake of the show because there was no Mulder, Scully or even those lame "replacements" they brought in for the final series (Doggett and whatever that woman's name was...forgot)...this was like post-post-post-X-Files with a different male/female duo. And for some stupid reason Pink Floyd was guest-starring, but it was lame because it was only the Dehydrated version (no Roger :-() and the only one I recognized was Nick Mason...the others didn't even look like themselves, and I don't think it was even them...a totally imposter sort of dream. I don't even know what the plot was (of the X-Files episode...not the dream).
We had an atrium in our house. Not just one of those small do-it-yourself construction kit Home Depot greenhouse addition things, this was a massive original-to-the-house Victorian Atrium. Like three stories high, leaded glass ceiling, as big as a freakin' gymnasium. I don't think it was our house, I think it was a different house we bought. Stan and I were sort of "complaining" that the only house we could find in our price range just happened to come with an atrium, so we took it. Uh huh. And I was also saying that we'd have to hire someone to maintain it, as I wouldn't want Stan climbing up on the glass roof. I also remember that someone was asking me if they could pay me a retainer of $1,000-$5,000 to keep me on a job project of theirs. Mmm hmmm. Then I was telling Stan that I've lost my integrity and become what I hate...a yuppie. But not to worry, I woke up as poor as ever, and no atrium, but integrity intact.