today i learned an important lesson about homeland security:
it's not about how much liquid or gel is in the container; its about the size of the container that holds the liquid or gel.
what? is this for real? why didn't anyone say that in the first place?
what this tells me is that if i were to pack liquid explosives in my carry on baggage (really ... why would i ever want to do that? i have a puppy, and i want her to see me grow old), i could get away with filling a quart-sized bag with little bottles full of explosive material as long as those bottles held no more than 3.4 ounces of said material. when you account for the space the bottle takes up and some air, you could probably squeeze about 18 ounces of actual liquid into that bag.
i don't know anything about explosives ... but does that sound like a lot? it sounds like kind of a lot.
don't worry ... i'm not thinking about doing anything destructive. unless, of course, having friends over for dinner this weekend counts as harmful ... actually, the jury's still out on that. i'm simply irritated that, without giving me a chance to fully explain my side, the patronizing TSA agent removed my toothpaste from my one-quart ziploc bag and threw it in the garbage can behind her while i was putting my shoes back on.
"ma'am, you can't have this toothpaste. you just can't," she said opening the bag and removing the rolled up tube.
"but there's only a little bit left ... less than any of the other liquids in the bag."
"it's too much toothpaste. see how big the tube is? you can't have it."
"i see," and i watched it go into the trash.
"have a nice flight."
"thanks."
sodding terrorists. don't they know how expensive airport toothpaste is?
February 26, 2007
February 25, 2007
that's classy
the ritz may have fluffy pillows and comforters. it may have a phone in the bathroom, two thick terrycloth robes, and a pair of warm slippers for your use. it may also have a wooden chest full of exotic coffees and teas, a scale that tells you you're five pounds lighter than you actually are, and a tray full of chocolates just waiting for you to check in.
but it also has a wireless network that costs $6 for 15 minutes and charges other rooms when you access it, low-flow shower heads that make you look like that one episode of seinfeld, a clock radio that doesn't have an evident "off" button, and a fuzzy "hotel services" TV station that makes it almost impossible to read as you're trying to take advantage of video check out.
also, despite the enthusiastic doorman wearing the top hat, the ritz also has awful customer service ... world class awful.
"we don't have your reservation, you can use the phone over there to call another hotel."
"oops, here it is."
i don't see an apology there.
but it also has a wireless network that costs $6 for 15 minutes and charges other rooms when you access it, low-flow shower heads that make you look like that one episode of seinfeld, a clock radio that doesn't have an evident "off" button, and a fuzzy "hotel services" TV station that makes it almost impossible to read as you're trying to take advantage of video check out.
also, despite the enthusiastic doorman wearing the top hat, the ritz also has awful customer service ... world class awful.
"we don't have your reservation, you can use the phone over there to call another hotel."
"oops, here it is."
i don't see an apology there.
February 13, 2007
upstairs, downstairs
listen ... do you hear that? it's the sound of my hair coming out at the root by my own hand.
"c'mon," i said. "let's go downstairs for dinner." and she followed.
"c'mon," i said. "let's go outside." and she followed.
it was a miracle. that's right ... a miracle.
a month ago, the doorbell rang and chaos ensued. i don't know anyone who's ever gotten that excited about pizza, but zoey was. two steps down the case, she missed her footing and slid the rest of the way down with her poor little front legs sticking out in front of her. at the bottom, she slammed into the front door. [note: i've done a similar thing. it's painful, and i wasn't nearly as resilient.]
as you may imagine, my heart stopped ... and i'm pretty sure it stopped for a good three seconds. had i not been so worried about those poor little front legs, i would have been able to report what happens when we die. i apologize to all of humanity for this incredible disservice. the good news is, there was no breakage ... merely a small cut that was easily cleaned and no other damage. or so i thought.
fast forward three weeks.
having tried absolutely everything i could think of to get zoey to come down the stairs, a night in the kennel seems to have worked. no longer am i opening doors, putting on jackets and boots, carrying around leashes as i pretend to leave the house. the separation anxiety is there ... i gotta play all my cards. for a while pretending to take out the trash worked unbelievably easy ... all i had to do was open the trash can, shake the edge of the bag and slap a sneaker sole on the kitchen floor and she'd be down.
but now, she's back to just following me down, which is fabulous.
until this morning ... when she slipped on the last three stairs.
i don't want to go in that door. i really don't.
"c'mon," i said. "let's go downstairs for dinner." and she followed.
"c'mon," i said. "let's go outside." and she followed.
it was a miracle. that's right ... a miracle.
a month ago, the doorbell rang and chaos ensued. i don't know anyone who's ever gotten that excited about pizza, but zoey was. two steps down the case, she missed her footing and slid the rest of the way down with her poor little front legs sticking out in front of her. at the bottom, she slammed into the front door. [note: i've done a similar thing. it's painful, and i wasn't nearly as resilient.]
as you may imagine, my heart stopped ... and i'm pretty sure it stopped for a good three seconds. had i not been so worried about those poor little front legs, i would have been able to report what happens when we die. i apologize to all of humanity for this incredible disservice. the good news is, there was no breakage ... merely a small cut that was easily cleaned and no other damage. or so i thought.
fast forward three weeks.
having tried absolutely everything i could think of to get zoey to come down the stairs, a night in the kennel seems to have worked. no longer am i opening doors, putting on jackets and boots, carrying around leashes as i pretend to leave the house. the separation anxiety is there ... i gotta play all my cards. for a while pretending to take out the trash worked unbelievably easy ... all i had to do was open the trash can, shake the edge of the bag and slap a sneaker sole on the kitchen floor and she'd be down.
but now, she's back to just following me down, which is fabulous.
until this morning ... when she slipped on the last three stairs.
i don't want to go in that door. i really don't.
February 9, 2007
movin' on up
i heard a furniture store commercial that led me to believe that an intern swapped the business case document with the ad copy ... and then no one noticed:
"the more we lower prices, the more mattresses we'll sell this weekend at haynes."
they probably promoted him. that's how it works, you know.
"the more we lower prices, the more mattresses we'll sell this weekend at haynes."
they probably promoted him. that's how it works, you know.
February 4, 2007
you're getting warmer
up for a scary movie? you bet! i may have shied away from the texas chainsaw massacre at christmas, but that was only because it didn't seem festive. cars was a better choice. an even better choice would have been nacho libre ... but that's just me.
on any day other than the one on which most of us celebrate the fact that we can all get an approved line of credit: bring on the blood and gore.
it's important to note that i don't watch scary movies by myself. when i'm alone and it's dark and aliens and zombies are falling thru ceilings or showing up under porches, i tend to let my imagination run riot. i end up unable to look in the bathroom mirror - who knows what the heck is going to jump out of that thing - or to sit near an open door to a dark room - who knows what the heck is going to jump out of that thing, either.
speaking of gore ... not knowing exactly what i was getting into, i popped in an inconvenient truth last nite.
holy hell. we are sacrificing not only ourselves but also the existence of all life on the planet in the name of "progress". we're perpetuating our own demise and mother earth is doing what she has to do in order to save what she can of herself.
it's kind of like when i convinced debi to get her belly button pierced.
with a click and a scream, there it was. debi spent the next few weeks doing what she could to help the wound heal ... and, well, it never did. what appeared to be healing was actually rejection. her body decided that the foreign substance was harmful to its careful balance and of its own volition, forced the ring out.
in the seemingly infinite life of the earth, the last 40 years are equivalent to the click and scream. carbon dioxide is the unbalancing substance. we're getting ourselves forced out.
already, thousands of people are dying because of the climate changes we've unwittingly caused. people are dying in unnatural heat waves, hurricanes, tornadoes and floods. soon enough, millions of people in costal regions such as, say, florida, will be displaced. what do we do with them? we've already had to relocate new orleans.
i read a BC comic strip in which BC says, "if man keeps polluting the air, how will future generations breathe?" and thor responds, "through their gills."
the strip was written in 1967.
this isn't jumping out from behind anything. it's more like the fog ... rolling in slowly so you don't notice it and then before you realize anything is wrong, hal's at your door with his hook ...
thwack!
on any day other than the one on which most of us celebrate the fact that we can all get an approved line of credit: bring on the blood and gore.
it's important to note that i don't watch scary movies by myself. when i'm alone and it's dark and aliens and zombies are falling thru ceilings or showing up under porches, i tend to let my imagination run riot. i end up unable to look in the bathroom mirror - who knows what the heck is going to jump out of that thing - or to sit near an open door to a dark room - who knows what the heck is going to jump out of that thing, either.
speaking of gore ... not knowing exactly what i was getting into, i popped in an inconvenient truth last nite.
holy hell. we are sacrificing not only ourselves but also the existence of all life on the planet in the name of "progress". we're perpetuating our own demise and mother earth is doing what she has to do in order to save what she can of herself.
it's kind of like when i convinced debi to get her belly button pierced.
with a click and a scream, there it was. debi spent the next few weeks doing what she could to help the wound heal ... and, well, it never did. what appeared to be healing was actually rejection. her body decided that the foreign substance was harmful to its careful balance and of its own volition, forced the ring out.
in the seemingly infinite life of the earth, the last 40 years are equivalent to the click and scream. carbon dioxide is the unbalancing substance. we're getting ourselves forced out.
already, thousands of people are dying because of the climate changes we've unwittingly caused. people are dying in unnatural heat waves, hurricanes, tornadoes and floods. soon enough, millions of people in costal regions such as, say, florida, will be displaced. what do we do with them? we've already had to relocate new orleans.
i read a BC comic strip in which BC says, "if man keeps polluting the air, how will future generations breathe?" and thor responds, "through their gills."
the strip was written in 1967.
this isn't jumping out from behind anything. it's more like the fog ... rolling in slowly so you don't notice it and then before you realize anything is wrong, hal's at your door with his hook ...
thwack!
February 2, 2007
prognosticator of prognosticators
when i was a kid, my family had a hamster. apparently we started out with a hamster and a gerbil, but the gerbil chewed away most of the insides of the yellow plastic habitrail (doing unspeakable damage to the large exercise wheel) and we couldn't keep her. i want to say she also chewed on her roommate, but don't quote me on that.
regardless, there was only one gerbil and i don't remember her name.
but! the hamster's name was mark. i remember because ...
the next hamster's name was mark. and ...
the next hamster's name was mark. and ...
his successor was also named mark.
this could go on another four or five times as the succession of mark was a long one. i don't know for sure how many there were because i was just little and suffered a short time from injuries sustained after being pushed down the stairs ... but that's a story for another day.
the point, if you haven't yet guessed, is that we had lots of hamsters named mark. if we'd taken any pictures of them, you'd never be able to tell which was which. yes, they were that identical.
that's the beauty of rodents.
i wonder how many punxsutawney phil's there have been.
[note: we also had goldfish named merrill, lynch, pierce, fenner, and smith]
regardless, there was only one gerbil and i don't remember her name.
but! the hamster's name was mark. i remember because ...
the next hamster's name was mark. and ...
the next hamster's name was mark. and ...
his successor was also named mark.
this could go on another four or five times as the succession of mark was a long one. i don't know for sure how many there were because i was just little and suffered a short time from injuries sustained after being pushed down the stairs ... but that's a story for another day.
the point, if you haven't yet guessed, is that we had lots of hamsters named mark. if we'd taken any pictures of them, you'd never be able to tell which was which. yes, they were that identical.
that's the beauty of rodents.
i wonder how many punxsutawney phil's there have been.
[note: we also had goldfish named merrill, lynch, pierce, fenner, and smith]
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