They cause too many problems.
Some clients' email systems convert everything to a non-proportional font, so a link that's too long for a line wraps to the next line and, therefore, doesn't work.
Some clients' IT departments block external websites, so again the links don't work.
Some people have spam filters for crap like this, so they don't get the emails in the first place.
Ugh! I'm so sick of these things! I thought I was finished with the project when they finally went out yesterday, but people are still having problems.
When I went to the post office last week to mail my packages, I was treated to a long line, only one person working the counter, a chatty older woman behind me, and a fussy newborn baby in front of me. (The baby was with her mom, she wasn't there on her own.)
I'll spare you all the details, except that I had a bit of a smackdown with the old lady when she went off about how awful it was the post office was selling MUSLIM STAMPS! AROUND CHRISTMASTIME!
I said the stamps were for a Muslim holiday and had nothing to do with Christmas, just like the new Simpsons* stamps that just came out. I also told her if she didn't like them, then don't buy them, but there are plenty of Americans who are Muslim and the post office is always trying to get people to buy stamps they connect with.
She then said she was going to have a few choice words with the workers. Seeing as there was only one person working I took pity on the poor soul at the counter. I pointed out that she just works here, she doesn't have anything to do with stamp design and she's already having a hard enough day as it is.
That finally struck a chord with the angry old lady. She softened immediately and then went on about how busy the postal workers must be, blah, blah, blah.
So when I was finally done mailing my package to Germany (tip - keep your packages under 4 pounds for international, it's an expensive pain in the ass to go over), she came up to the counter and asked about Christmas stamps.
The worker described what she had and the woman, to my surprise after all that nonsense about the Muslim stamps, said, "Oh no, no, no. I just want noncommittal snowflakes."
*The Simpsons postage stamps rock. Just be sure to pay attention to what you are using them on. I almost put the Homer Simpson stamp on my donation to the Special Olympics. Ha ha!
tired of Christmas yet? of course
join us in some anti-Christmas joy. Steve Poltz will get us started
or Steven Elizabeth is weird.
likely both.
I was eating breakfast - cottage cheese and crushed pineapple - and he kept on getting on my face and on the bowl, running interference with the spoon, the entire act.
this had happened before, and several times I had put a spoonful of the cottage cheese (that's what he must be after, right?) on his dish, just to be ignored.
today it finally dawned on me: weirdo cat is after the pineapple. after inhaling a couple of spoonfuls of it, he is happicat again. which means I still couldn't eat because he was laying atop my forearms, purringks
I noticed that all of you missed out on a good Cranky rant yesterday which means I got the full brunt of it, and it was awesome. If you're Cranky's friend, you at least were treated to one of our favorite views of the day. We headed out to Reading Terminal Market and stuft (hee) ourselves with pulled pork and brisket. We then picked up some famous Flying Monkey Muffcakes. I had a vanilla buttercream frosted chocolate and she had a lavender. We each had a creme brule muffcake as well. Yum. Those were good both pre and post dinner.
I got to go to the Macy's where they filmed Mannequin and it was every bit as wonderful as I had hoped. I didn't see Hollywood, but I did see the big ass pipe organ and I saw the famous holiday light show which was hosted by none other than my hero Julie Andrews. Cranky said the light show has been the same since she was a kid and I don't doubt it. While it was sort of cheesy by today's standards there was something very sweet and sentimental about it too.
I got to go shopping at Aye Chihuahua and also got to drink lotsa Guinness. It was a good day.
"...but American girls are pretty and charming - little oases of pretty unreasonableness in a vast desert of practical common-sense."
- Oscar Wilde
The England of Victoria was scattered with the bones of their disappointment. They foundered on society's unforgiving landscape and were held fast, like sparrows caught on barbed wire. They swooned, jeweled wraiths, across a countryside of regret.
These were the daughters of America, bred from the new, raw, ricih. Vanderbilt. Morgan. Whitney. Jerome. Thjeir fathers were the barons and the bankers, dirty from railroads, mines and Wall Street. Their mothers were coarse and pushy - seeing their future in the calling cards accumulating in the salverby the door.
They had the money. But the family name needed something beyond wealth, it needed dignity, it needed respectability. So it was the responsibility of their dainty - if doomed - daughters to wash their fathers' hands and smooth their mothers' silhouettes and manners.
These nouveau riche had made their names. But they also needed titles. So they groomed their daughters, pressing them like flowers between the intolerant walls of behavior and decorum. They were being prepred for adventures across the sea, and England was ripe for plunder.
Waiting to be claimed by these "dollar princesses" were the impoverished sons of the peerage, languishing in ballrooms like dying wolves. English girls, steeped in tradition and hooded eyes, had no chance against the audacious competitors which invaded their country. There was a type of charm in their impudence and fresh faces. They flirted and teased with a rapier-like modesty. Like pirates they ransacked the aristocracy until their accents rang in every large house in the country.
But the Victorian aristocracy had been growing tired and decadent. The husbands who had married American money bore hidden depravities and resentments like coiled diseases. Their country houses were dank and moldy, chilling their golden brides. The romantic wistfulness, the daring hand on an ungloved arm, were all for show at the Mayfair parties.
So many times after the marriage, the heiress would fade away, her fine dresses never unpacked, her jewels clouded and tangled. When Consuelo Vanderbilt wed the Early of Marlborough, her tears made a diamante pattern across her wedding veil.
Maud Cunard sacraificed her bohemian mentality for a cold, bitter life in her husband's Northern lands.
Jennie Jerome's husband was a brilliant parlimentarian, and would die of syphilis.
Mary Leiter worshiped her parents' visits: "I love the chairs you sat on, and try to see you there, and my eyes fill with tears."
This was the Gilded Age, society's golden veneer, the false, desirable beauty. It only took a false word, the image of a young bride in a locked bedroom, to scrape the paint away - to reveal the terrible depths of a dark heart, its cruel, hidden realities.
While watching Zach give the cats a good workout by means of a high-power laser pointer, a thought occurred to me:
When used in a particular way, a laser pointer is essentially a virtual tether with which one can literally slam a cat against a wall.
You can also fling a cat down the stairs or even into a hapless victim’s lap as he sits distracted by his game of Super Smash Bros. Fact is, a cat will pretty much go anywhere a glowing red dot goes. They'll even do it in teams!
Whenever all four of us have to be away from the house at the same time, we make sure all the kittehs are closed off downstairs mainly because Dioji is a moody terrier and cannot be trusted. This past Thanksgiving Day was one of those times and Zach was assigned pet segregation detail. He proceeded to do this, believe it or not, by leading them all down in one big group with his laser pointer.
I was hell of impressed.
Alright, I know the title of the post made it sound like some major scientific breakthrough had been discovered. And sure, adding “major” might be too much, but Zachary’s discovery really is quite a breakthrough!
Have you ever tried to herd cats?
To Fabulous Co-Worker Justin, who sent me another great interwebs find. The literal version of the smash 80's hit, "Total Eclipse of the Heart".
Anyone else remember slowdancing to this at a junior high dance in the school cafeteria?
Regardless, you might remember the whacky video that made no sense. This explains what was going on in all the scenes.
