Maierstorm.org |

So…here’s a couple things I really think need to be said.

As some of you may know, I work in a call center, taking calls from folks who need technical support. There are phrases that make me sigh (“I’m computer illiterate”,) phrases that make me growl (“I’m a consultant“,) but no phrase will cause me to reach for the rum faster than these 5 words:
“But my salesman told me…”

Simple truth. Salesmen lie. I’m not sure where people learned otherwise, but they have lied ever since Bu-chitta told Ung-hefit that if he traded 4 shiny rocks for a pretty fruit, he would be a manly scented hunter who would never miss a spear-throw at a mammoth, never suffer the indignity of a ill-timed itch, and the delightful Chestinia would never refuse his advances. (Ung-hefit was later found mammoth-stomped with a black eye and his hand in an indelicate spot.)

The sad thing is that people keep believing it. They refuse to research, and cheerfully listen to the well-dressed man tell them that my employers’ network never breaks, the hardware doubles as an aesthetic planter, and that if they ever have a problem, handsome and strongjawed technical support representatives will arrive in 30 seconds, riding their unicorns on a wave of magic pixie farts.

Seriously people. If your salesman tells you the sky is blue, check. If the words “better”, “faster”, or “cheaper” escape their pestilent lips, call someone else to make sure. And then call someone else.

Oh, and never tell the tech support reps what your salesmen said. We mute the phone and laugh at you.

So…changed my site around. Check.
New job. Check.
Fish. Not expected, but check.
Improving various other sites? Check.
Not dead, in prison, or otherwise incapacitated by silliness? Check.
Broncos not playing? Check again.
Avalanche playing? Check and woo.
Cats? Down one, but still happiness there with 3.

More later as the year winds down.

So for the first time since divisional play in 1954, a team had a 3 game lead with 3 weeks to play…and didn’t win the division.

I give you…the 2008 Broncos. I’m not sure if this is worse than the Lions….well, it might be more disappointing on the level of “Coulda/woulda/shoulda.” Hell, the Lions don’t expect to win, so any win is like the Super bowl. We expect to win. And win well. For this to happen required a complete and total team effort, sustained for 3 weeks. That’s rare.

Fuckers.

So now I’m waking up, and realizing that today could be twitchy.

 – Football. Broncos game. 16 weeks and nothing’s settled. Playing today against the Chargers for all the marbles. 6:15 Mountain tonight.
 – Hockey. There appears to be some aftereffects from the game last night; to wit my throat is sore. I can talk, but I’m not singing along with Dr Horrible until tomorrow.

 – Other. There’s an other somewhere in here. I think I need to take a fish census in this place. I’ve totally lost track of how many dalmation fish I’ve got, since the little boogers keep breeding and having more fish.

Okay, so…we have a conundrum of sorts. A very even game, won by the Avalanche. Now, tradition dictates that three stars of the game are chosen. Normally, these three stars are from the home team.

So…against a rival team, at home, we win, and at this point, there are so many excellent efforts and moments that the first star is a debatable subject, but the best player of the night has to be from the Avalanche. Only a complete tool would decide someone from the losing team, and the Wings on top of it, would merit an honor of First Star.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the perfect tool. Shockingly, his website doesn’t mention his lifelong dreams of writing for the Detroit Free Press or being the Red Wings waterboy.

Okay, I’m bouncing off the walls here. Taking a half-day off work because, well, I need the time to get all prepped for it.

Body paint? Check.
Jersey? Check
Cough drops? Check.
Flying monkeys? Check.
Lucky hat? Check and check.

Right then. Postgame show brought to you by…uhm…some company.

I don’t do this aort of thing, because…well, my opinions are generally my own. But then once in awhile, I feel the need to break out the soapbox.

At this risk of being impolitic…who the fuck does this ass think he
is? As a guy who grew up in a small town and then made it to a bigger
town (but hasn’t made it big), I feel I must retort and say “Sarah Palin is not my people.” Anyone who proclaims small towns to be “Real America” as opposed to some amorphous Fake America just because we have buildings with more than 25 stories is ignorant, blind, and a little pandering drip.

Maybe I don’t have a rosy view of small-towns. Okay, I don’t. Small towns, big cities, they all have their down sides. There’s crime, there’s hatred, there’s nasty things anywhere if you care to look. And it doesn’t really matter if you pepper your speech with “Golly gee willikers” or “OMGWTFBBQ”, bullshit is still bullshit.

My values are not something you can categorize as “small-town” or “Big city”. My values are human values. That you should work hard, that you should be honest, and that you should work to better yourself, and work to leave a better world for those who come after.

Apologists like this should take a long hard look at America. Not just the parts that support their viewpoint.

So what we have here is a review of product. Allow me to summarize:

Assembly:
An exercise in patience and thinking outside the box. Instructions were relatively straightforward, however it could have been easier. Someone in Quality Control was smoking crack with the one I received, as several sections were too long to fit properly, and thus out came the saw. Assemble, pull apart. Saw, reassemble. This was a total first, and it makes me seriously reconsider buying anything else from this particular manufacturer. I mean seriously. I spending a hundred bucks, and several hours of my day off, the least I can get is parts that assemble per the goddamn instructions. On more than one occasion, I had the rather insane feeling of a monkey trying to hump a football. Fortunately, they didn’t skimp on the parts. About 3 and a half hours after looking it for the first time, we had a…credenza.

Post-Assembly:
hiking TV on top, not too bad. Cramming electronics in, not bad. Moving the whole assembly? Pain in the ass. Okay, pain in the lower back. Wonderwife was only too pleased to inform me that I’m not in my early 20’s, and there were more than a couple hints that I should start thinking about some sort of exercise regimen beyond typing and lifting a coffee cup.

There may be New Years’ Resolutions coming to this space. But first, I’m going to sit with a heat pad on my back and watch Santa fly by.

…and a bad one at that.

To the tune of “Jingle Bells”:

Jingle pucks, Bettman sucks, Toronto laid an eeeggg
Oh what fun it is to kick Sean Avery in the heaad…
Dashing on the ice, Def Leppard in our sights
We’ll beat the singer so damn hard
He’ll know which end is up…

WonderWife went to a wedding party of sorts. I had to work, so I missed it. I’m okay with that. Get home, and I get asked if I want to run to the store for something to eat.

I passed, not because I wasn’t hungry, but because I got to have….Leftover Night.An ancient and honored tradition, hearkening back to the caveman days who, after a long day of hunting mammoth and wildebeest, would come back to the cave and poke around the Frigidaire in search of cold cuts for their subs. and no need for veggies to garnish the side of the plate and look pretty but useless.

All I needed was fire. Then I looked around and realized I needed fire and a map.

It was an intriguing mixture of barbecued something-or-other and steak quesadilla strips. The veggies sat in the drawer and had emo moments, but it wasn’t about them. It was leftover night, and that meant manfood.

…as long as I cleaned up afterwards.