Willy Wonka Goes to Woodstock

Crazy Japanese Pretzel Commercial.

Anyway.

So, yeah, I got a promotion (finally) at work. Only took five years, and only three years after I swore I'd quit if I didn't get the phonathon coordinator job.

Seems to me that I have a hard time sticking to my guns.

The job is in the Arts & Sciences office, running the Scholarship program. Right now I'm busy picking up on the job from someone else in the department who used to do it. It's good to have institutional memory around, I'm learning. I mean, I knew that already from the classes I'd been taking (and it formed part of the basis of my masters thesis) but I'd never known it on a personal, in-your-face kind of way before.

I guess that's the same way I'd never really known that fire was hot until I stuck my hand in one once. Serves me right, I guess, and I suffered no lasting damage, but Jiminy Cricket that hurt.

So I get a pay boost, making me approximately 50% more attractive to gold-diggers, which is nice. And I get a new office, which is OK, I guess. It meant that I had to move everything that had managed to be made at home in my last three offices.

Oh, yeah - this is also my fifth office in just over five years in the department.
1) A room at the confluence of three hallways that is now, honest-to-God, a janitor's closet
2) A fishbowl with a broken heater, but a great office anyway.
3) A closet in the copy room (again, honest-to-God)
4) A real office that had decent shelving units installed (now with Air freshener!)
5) This one at the satellite building.

All-in-all, I think I'll do OK, but I gotta admit, I'm a bit nervous.

Holy Fucking Shit

Got a promotion.

Will tell more later.

Small Favors

A few weeks ago, I put up a couple of posts chronicling the failures of the St. Louis Cardinals to live up to the expectations of being a World Series Champion, or even of a minor league team miraculously bumped up to the Majors.

Times have not really changed, but at least there's one bright spot:
Since the 1st of June, the Cardinals are 18-16. That may not seem like much (partly because it isn't). But at least it's better than .500 ball. Right now, the team is 40-45, so they're 5 games under 500. They should at least be half up, half down in another 85 games.

Wait, what?

That'd be 170 games, you say?

And there's only 162 games in the season?

Damn.

Well, at least they're not the Orioles.

Well, That's a Freakout

So, my mother was watching LiveEarth today, and sent me an email: "Who are the Foo Fighters? Didn't they used to be Nirvana? I don't like them. By the way, I thought Metallica was pretty good. The years haven't slowed them down at all."

She also likes System of a Down, and not Eminem.

This Stuff is Hard

One of the things about planning a wedding is that you have to...you know...plan. And stuff.

One of the things that you have to worry about, in addition to photographers, blood tests, counselling, officiants, licenses, locations, funding, dresses, tuxedos, flowers, menues, and groomsmen, is the cake. The god damned cake. And it's hard to find a cake, even when the thing is included in the price of the wedding package. You have to pick a flour, you have to pick a filling, a frosting, toppers...it goes on and on and on.

Unless you buy this cake:


It's beautiful, it's catawhompus, and it's more fun than any other cake before it.

And we aren't getting it, mind you, but there it is. It's still my next birthday cake if I have anything to say about it.