Monday, August 2, 2010

Relational Integrity

I've been asked, recently, about when I might be posting a new blog. I used to write a lot, taking whatever nonsense was whirling about the old noggin and composing it in to some sort of postable blog-type-thing. Many of these blogs began as snippets of an email conversation, usually with my pal Rosenrosen, or germinated from seeds sown in the midst of some rant.

For several reasons, I am not very often in the sort of situation which used to lead to a blog. For starters, the powers that be at my job at Swirling Vortex, Inc. disbanded my department and moved us to another area. Many of my best blogs are descriptions of, or at least were inspired by, workaday conversations with those co-workers. After the move, those conversations became few and far between.

Emailing with Rosenrosen is also limited, since went back to school full-time and has limited time during the day. We used to get some really good material from student loan industry publications, as well as a financial aid listserv (such as the time we decided that the creator of the web site had killed and stuffed his mother, a la Norman Bates, as well as his first and only date, and had an army of "children" made up of Cabbage Patch and My Buddy dolls.)

The part-time job, while sucking up my free time and probably killing of little bits of what's left of my soul, has provided a bit of blog fodder, but many times can I bitch about doughy fat girls making messes in the changing room? It might have been slightly funny the first time, and even that is debatable.

I recently got a new position at work. It's a lateral move so there is no raise involved, but the job allows me much more autonomy. The previous position involved much updating of tracking databases and third-party scheduling, which I hated. Now I'm back to a much preferable arrangement, which is being given a task and then allowed to go and do it with little interference.

One of these tasks is attempting to alter Access databases. I am not a programmer; I can write SAS queries and I can use AQT to find and update data, but that's about it.  Now I have to learn how to do shit in Access using Visual Basic. I think about it a lot; I sit around and think about why none of my queries seem to work and what I might be able to do to change that. There's no blog in any of that, the shit is boring. I myself alternate between falling asleep in my new fancy roomy cubicle and wanting to throw the laptop off the catwalk before skipping up to Human Resources to ask may I please have a job now for someone who's stupid, please? Hyuk.

That's it; that's why the blogging has dried up. That's all the time I have for this rubbish now; I'm going to sit around and think about the relational integrity between the tables in my database and how it relates to their key values.

Udo Unleashed

Udo is too big for a stroller; Udo is four. I know he's too big, because I get a lot of that "look" from other mommies, which is a cocked-eyebrow/sneer sort of look which says, "Well, aren't just some kind of a lousy mother with a great big kid like that in a stroller?" I get this look a lot.

However, Udo also thinks it's high-larious to run away from Mommy. Udo thinks that Mommy should operate on Udo's timetable, and not her own. So when Mommy tells Udo to "just stand still and wait a minute," he gives her a black look and pisses off to do whatever it is he's itching to do.

This is why Udo has a leash. Udo got a baby leash last weekend, because we were on the way to Swirling Vortex, Inc.'s annual company picnic at a local amusement park. I didn't particularly want to lose Udo in the crowds (although there are days…), and as I stated, he's too big for a stroller.

We purchased the baby leash at the K Mart, and I strapped Udo up in the parking lot.
"What is this seatbelt?" asked Udo, frowing. "I don't like this itchy seatbelt."

"This is a seatbelt for naughty boys who don't listen. Naughty boys who don't listen and run away have to wear an itchy seatbelt," I told Udo.

On the way to the park, Udo sat in the back seat muttering to himself, as per ususal in the third person.
"This is a seatbelt for naughty boys who don't listen. Udo doesn't like this itchy seatbelt for naughty boys. Udo wants to take it off."

Once we were in the park, Udo temporarily forgot about the itchy seatbelt, what with all the merry mayhem and chocolate-y joy. I did not, however. Let me tell you something about child harnesses and the reactions they elicit: they piss people off. Evidently some people, and I'm guessing childless people who have never dealt with stealthy, willfull four-year-olds, have some kind of ethical problem with leashing up a child.

I have one thing to say to these people, who glared at me all Sunday afternoon: YOU JUST KISS MY ASS!!! I'll bet you'd be the first ones to call my skills as a parent and worth as a human being in to question if old Udo over there were to slip my grasp, run away, and end up so much child-killer fodder. So fuck you and your looks self-righteous reproach, you sad, barren gits!

Eventually, the novelty of the park wore off and Udo began to notice the itchy naughty seatbelt again. This is mostly because he kept making attempts to run away, which were thwarted by the leash. Udo would make a mad dash, reach the end of the tether, and be jerked backwards. I'm guessing this is uncomfortable, and probably a little humiliating to boot.

It was a hot day, and Udo got tired from all the walking and sweaty from the itchy seatbelt, so I threw him a bone and removed the harness. He promptly ran away, of course, because he is Udo and "naughty" is what he does.


Today my friend Rosenrosen asked if I purchased the re-release of Def Leppard's "Hysteria." I have "Hysteria" on disc, thank you, and have no intention of adding any funds to the Def Leppard coffers by purchasing their poxy re-release. I don't care how many superfun bonus tracks or live performances they included in the "bonus" disc. Rosenrosen claims the bonus disc is actually good, with some interesting live covers. There's an Elvis cover, however, about which she said: "It doesn’t sound like Joe, I have no idea if he’s even singing it. It’s horrendously off-key, and sounds like someone’s drunk Aunt Alice singing bad karaoke at $5/dozen Wing Night at the local Publick House."

This last made me snarf my dietCoke.

I lost a lot of respect for the old DL when I read about some feud they were having with other cheesy metal bands like Dio and Poison. Where does one cheestastic rock bank get off claiming they're better than another? Where's the justification? They all had big perms and made silly faces whilst playing their guitars. So some of them know a few more chords than others; big deal! More to the point, how can anyone get mad at Ronnie James Dio? He looks like a troll. A little long-haired sword-carrying troll who lives in your baseboards, flashes you the evil eye, and steals all your buttons.

Between the feuds and claiming not only that they were never a hair band but also that they were never even a METAL band ( I own 'Pyromania' and I beg to differ,)'s all a bit off-putting. Old Joe must be going through menopause, the way he shoots his mouth off about what a great band he has vs. how much everyone else sucks and seems to be bitter and angry about...something. He should take some B-vitamins and go lie down until he comes to terms with the fact that he's no longer relevant.

I understand why Def Leppard is repackaging and re-releasing their old stuff; there's a recession going on. They all maintain residences on several continents, and they've all got alimony payments plus plastic surgery and wig maintenance fees and lots of other rock-god expenses so I'm sure they need the cash. However, they've gotten all the money they're ever going to get from me. Especially after that last stinker of an album.

It hurts my heart, really, because I do love the DL. I really wish these old rock guys would learn to age gracefully instead of morphing in to sad, ranting, botox'd, bewigg'd parodies of their former selves.