“What do you mean, fun?”

An actual conversation I had last Friday with an engineer at my work:

Jenna walks into room at 530 pm on Friday afternoon to get bag.

Two engineers are working away.

Grabs bag and says: “You guys should hang it up and go do something fun.”
Engineer 1: “Like what?” pauses..
Engineer 2: looks at me with blank expression.
Engineer 1 (sitting in front of two huge monitors full of code): “this is fun. what else would i be doing?”

and thats why my job rocks. :)

Sunny California, My Ass

They said it would never rain here. They said there wouldn't be a cloud in the sky. They said it was sunny 24 hours a day. Yep, that's right, even at night.

They were so wrong.

It has been raining on and off for the last three weeks (and yes, in Mountain View too) and today, it has been raining non-stop for at least 24 hours. Its cold too.

Needless to say my .8mi walk home from the shuttle was not too pleasant. Time for some galloshes and a pink rain slicker. I wonder if they make them with space invaders...

rediculousness

rediculousness
Originally uploaded by pinkestblack.

forget about the golden encrusted heated toilet seats, this shows the true excesses of the big G. :)

adam, zhanna and i moved into our new cube and found our office supplies lined up and dutifully waiting for us.

staple away. then tape it. tape a row of staples. staple some tape. the possibilities are endless.

My friends love me..

My friends love me..
Originally uploaded by pinkestblack.

Do your friends love you as much as mine do? My friend Anne knitted me this hat in her spare time.. (yeah, shes writing her dissertation right, now... so that makes it EXTRA special). Its hard to move across the country and leave all your friends behind, but its small things like this that make life easier out here in this strange strange land.. AND it reinforces my personal brand! who can beat that?!

anne- your hat has debued to RAVE reviews, i think you might have a cult following out here at the big g should you wanna give up this "doctor" & "PHd" business and become a full-time knitting bitch! :)

"The Departure."

Yes, yes. I am the world’s biggest slacker. I haven’t posted here in ages, and everyone has been asking me about my massive life changes, how everything is going blah blah.. so, all I can say is: Careful what you wish for.

So, it started when the packers came to put everything we own into one cardboard box or another. Don’t get me wrong; I am definitely appreciative of the moving service I got set up with. I wouldn’t have survived the stress otherwise. But something about strangers fondling my every possession is enough to make anyone crazy. It was a crazy day of overseeing them, “This stack, NOT that stack” etc (had to leave some stuff behind for Ryan to get by) and by the end I was exhausted. It was only noon. It took 2 people a mere 4 hours to pack up my entire life.





The next day the movers arrived, semi-on-time, but not without drama. It appears that the driver clipped a low hanging cable line in my neighborhood and ripped a bundle of cables off of someone’s house. Of course, the cables were not hung to the specified legal height for just such an occasion (they don’t make these things up for fun, you know), but that didn’t stop the hapless homeowner from running down the street after a 50’ moving truck screaming that the driver owed him money for the damages. A bit afterward, the driver arrives at my house, and tells me that he clipped a line, but he didn’t care because the line was supposed to have 13’ 9” clearance, and didn’t so he has no responsibility. His moving helpers arrived, and the show went on.



After about 30 minutes of extremely slow progress inside the house, there was a knock on the door. The (now cable-less) homeowner had called the cops and followed the moving truck to tell them where to go. The cop was trying to cite the driver, but the driver told him that the homeowner would have to take it up with whatever company installed the line. It was classic “its not my fault” syndrome. Another hour of my life down the drain.

After a few hours of even slower progress, (Yes I admit it was hot that day.. but damn!) and one bitter fight with the (barely-smart-enough-to-keep-breathing) driver on how to dismantle a desk (“I took all the screws out but these 4, and it still won’t come apart! I need your permission to break it”) and a few near impossible physical feats on my part (flipping and dismantling my desk with one hand while on the phone with ryan on the other while the driver keeps telling me over and over that the desk is glued and I can’t possibly take it apart without breaking it, the movers finally finished, I signed the papers and was glad to see the last of them. All I had left to wonder now was… will I ever see my stuff again?

I cleaned up the house and rearranged the remaining furniture into some semblance of living quarters, got the stressed out dogs re-situated and moped around my once beautiful house.

That night I packed my suitcase for two weeks, and spent my last night in Atlanta.

__

The trip to California was not uneventful either. For those of you who have traveled with a cat, or any animal for that matter, know, it ain’t easy. I pre-read all the information that delta had to offer on their website, and made myself a checklist to get the cat through to California. I put just enough stuff in my carry on (pan, litter, food, treats) to last him for two weeks until the real stuff arrived, put him into his crate and off we went. At check in the (very nice and accommodating) gate agent lady tells me that only two live animals can be in the coach cabin on any given flight. Luckily, there was only one other one checked in at the time, had I gotten to the airport and both spots had been full, I would have been in the pit of despair. One hurdle has been overcome. Next she tells me that his plastic crate that I carried him in from the house will not fit under the seat and that I would have to go buy a soft one from the luggage store. I looked around for a full 30 minutes to find the place, and finally stumbled upon it after asking my 5th airport information officer in a row. The place had ONE carrier left. $60 later, I was on my way to overcoming my second hurdle… a suitable carrier: check. Now, I needed to move the spawn of Satan from one crate to another in the middle of an over-crowded airport. I went for it, and luckily he was in shock, so the transfer was uneventful. Off to security.

Before leaving I asked the gate agent if I would have to put him through the scanner. She said no and that I’d just pass him along the side, and that would be fine. Thinking my hurdles were done for the day… I semi-merrily proceeded to security. The line was long but not suicidal. I finally got up to the thing and I started to pass the cat round the scanner to the guard on the other side, where he then informed me that I had to remove kurillin from the crate and walk him through the checkpoint with him in my arms.

You have got to be kidding.

Take him out of the crate?! In the middle of the airport? Yep. You heard it right. I had to take a wild animal (with razor sharp claws) out of confinement and walk through an unfamiliar environment with him in my arms and somehow manage to get him back in the (now scanned) crate on the other side. I complied. I took him out, got a bone-crushing grip on him, and started to walk toward the checkpoint. “no” the guard said… “What now?” “Shoes.” He said.

You have got to be kidding.

Removing my shoes with no hands, putting them on the conveyor belt with no free hand, and trying to get everything together on the other side. Not my happiest moment.

Luckily kurillin was paralyzed with fear, but not after digging 8 claw sized holes into my chest, I got him back into his carrier, got all of my shit together and finally made my way toward the plane.

37 C

On my way to San Francisco. I thought i had lucked out by sitting next to a quiet man with no one on the other side of me (they booked late, so I ended up with a middle seat). at the last possible second, a great big pig of a man comes barreling down the aisle, bumping each seat with his enormous laptop case and not apologizing. Sweating like a great sweaty oaf. Slightly balding, with glasses that were slipping off his face from the sweat. The man reveals that he is British by talking to his comrades in row 38.

"oh dear god, no. Anywhere but 37C"

Of course.. after ungracefully shoving his bag into an overhead bin that had no room left, he plops down next to me. A great puff of wind smelling of pot and urine headed my way. I could almost see the colour of the air change.

After he elbows me a few times in the boob, trying to adjust himself in the seat... he commences his eating regimen.

Before the plane taxis out the man eats the following:
1. an entire roll of rolos
2. an entire roll of mentos
3. an entire roll of tropical life savers
(not sure what’s up with food that comes in a roll)

During his eating regimen, I notice the world’s tackiest gold ring on his pinky. It looks like some sort of currency gone awry.

After takeoff, the man eats an entire bag of raisinettes, devours the delta snack before I could figure out what was going on.. and reads a cheesy stephen king novel while listening to jack johnson and cheryl crow.

Of course, after all that eating.. the man passed gas repeatedly in my direction about 3 hours into the flight and didn't stop until I exited the jetway, gasping for air.

“Life is Good.” (original release:3/14/06)

well then.

I don't know how it happens. I think the universe drops these people in my lap. . . who knows.

Tom- the cabbie comes to get us.. he is a stout and gruff man with longish greasy grey hair and a bald spot on the top. He wears dark aviator sunglasses. He dives a lincoln.

John sits in the front seat, and me in the back. I give the guy the google map and we are off.

Within minutes, we find out the following fun facts about Tom:

tom came to orlando after his divorce to stay for three weeks, 32 years later, he is the world's most overstayed house guest
tom has a walkie-talkie, a pager and a cell phone, all of which he used simultaneously while driving.
tom had some shady phone calls, of which he says: "ill hit you back when im *clear*, ive got a 5-9"
tom offered to keep our luggage until we went back to the airport
tom told us we could pay him for both trips at once when he dropped us off
tom was in the army
tom used to hunt, until he came home from the army
tom is a licensed private investigator.
tom has been approached by the KKK, he is not afraid.
tom threatened members of the KKK with his "crazy eye"
tom thinks every cop and fireman in orlando is "on the take"
tom thinks the tv show "the shield" is real
tom says "i can show you things you'd never believe"
tom is in touch with the dark underbelly of Orlando
tom's colleague's wife is cheating. tom knows who with. tom won't tell.
tom's crowning career moment is capturing a man who raped a 74 year old invalid in 1978
tom is crazy after coming out of the army
tom likes women
tom is homophobic
tom prays each night that his sons don't "turn gay"
tom thinks his only daughter is addicted to shopping


tom is our new friend. tom wants us to come back to orlando to write his memoirs :)

travel story (original release: 11/9/05)

so, the cab came to pick me up at the facility.. .i quickly realised that my driver may have a cognitive impairment.. and i was worried..

i couldn't understand much of what he was saying.

i got really worried when pulling out of the parking lot, he turned to me and said:
"how do i get to the highway from here?"

oh god, what have i gotten myself into.

after 10 minutes of somewhat erratic driving, and more than a few white knuckles on my part, he reveals to me that he was robbed at gunpoint, shot in the abdomen, in a coma for three months, and woke up half paralyzed with a stroke.

then he made some joke about his girlfriend (the cab controller on the cb) as we passed the projects.

interesting guy.

got to the airport, flight delayed by an hour due to a faulty altimeter. everyone in the concourse flew into a rage.

i sat next to an angry giant who did not want to release his coat and farted obviously in my directions several times throughout the flight.

Announcement

"Will the owner of the red magnum, license plate: 'Machiavelli 2' please contact the nearest gate information."

the things you hear while sitting in an airport :)

Morning Story: Elevator Entrapment (original release: 3/29/02)

girl gets in elevator. girl sees another person trying to catch the elevator. girl presses the "door open" button to help the boy catch the elevator. boy pushes the button for floor five. boy stares at girl. girl stares at the door.

boy says: "you are not from the south are you?" in a thick russian accent
girl replies "no."
boy: "i can tell."
girl:(with a giggle at the rediculousness of the previous statement) "how can you tell?"
boy: "you are too pretty to be from the south."
girl:
boy: "no, I can just tell that you are not from here, you don't look like you come from the south."


elevator door opens. girl gets out as quickly as possible without letting on that she is doing so.

girl:"have a nice day. freak."

Image: boy with a goofy grin on his way up to floor 5.
girl: "i hate elevator rides"

Transatlantic Scandalism (original release: 2/21/06)

a (not so) quick story on my travels home. . .

so, i make it to my gate (B10) in milan just in time for boarding to begin. I am close to the front of the coach cabin, so i was amoung the last to board. the gate agents called zone 6 and i get in line.

that's when the trouble began. . .

I got in line behind a man who was quite fidgety. He seemed to be in some sort of distress. I immediately identified him as an American because of the way he was talking and the oversized, high-end hip hop threads he had on. the line inches forward. he keeps turning around, looking over my shoulder. i turned to see what he was looking at, and saw he was looking at his traveling companions. . a woman, three children and an older couple across the terminal, about 100' away.

as the line was getting closer to the gate door, the man became more and more agitated. he finally turns around and screamed to his companion "Bring me my ticket, b**ch!" As he was screaming out of the left side of his mouth only, a wall of gin fumes hit me in the face like a brick wall. the man was clearly hammered. The woman screamed back to him "F**K you, *****!" (can't bring myself to type it)

I began to get uncomfortable as he murmured a series of explicatives under his breath about the woman, thinking to myself "i really hope im not sitting next to this guy, if i do, ill ask the agent if i can move" He was so angry.

the closer we got to the ticket taker, the more agitated he became, and just as we reached the front, i heard a deafening sound, and turned just in time to see a wild-eyed woman running full bore straight at me. she was wearing a faded black tshirt, dirty jeans and untied timberlands, her hair was wild and unkempt. she looked as if she had been sleeping under a bridge for a week. she handed the ticket to the man, and they had a vicious argument (that cannot be repeated in mixed company) just in front of the jetway door. That is when i heard the whispering behind me...

"could it be?" "is that them?"

I started to think the woman looked familiar. I had to be sure. She was the last to give her ticket to the agent before me, so i glanced at the top of the stack of torn ticket stubs and there it was....

"HOUSTON/WHITNEY : 1B"

i handed my ticket to the same gate agent and watched as my torn stub covered hers... I was officially in the twilight zone.

I turned to two american snowboarder kids behind me and said.. "is it true.. is it whitney and bobby?" they replied, "yeah, and that is the best thing that could have happened, I can't believe i just saw them fight in real life." the three of us boarded the flight just behind the dynamic duo, at a relatively safe blast radius of about 15 feet.

The flight was relatively uneventful, mostly because they were in first class and not anywhere near me.

The flight touched down in Atlanta, and i was disembarking. As i walked through the first class cabin to get out, i suddenly remembered that they were on my flight (10 hours of chick flicks had washed the memory from my brain).. because the first class cabin looked like a war zone. they may as well have simply decommissioned that plane, because the area where they were sitting was trashed. it was the first time in my life where i actually considered myself lucky to be in the coach cabin.

I thought (and hoped) that that would be the last of my interactions with the pair...

but it got worse.

As i was walking down the long corridor (in quite a bit of a haze) toward customs, i saw a blur of a woman streaking toward me talking to .. apparently no one. it was only as she was passing by me that i realised she was not speaking english, nor any other language of this world... just a sort of made-up jibberish. bobby was leaning against a waterfountain on the opposite side of the corridor mumbling under his breath.

again, i thought (and hoped) that encounter would be my last. but, no, i couldn't escape.

at the atlanta airport, you have to go through security (metal detectors, bag scans, passport check) when coming back into the states. i was in line at security.. thanking the lord that the pair were stuck behind me in customs (i thought).

a few people hit the metal detector ahead of me. i put my belt and both jackets on the line, and i go through. Who do i meet on the other side?? but bobby brown getting his bag searched and whitney in one of the glass cubes where they make you wait in line to be searched. again, i was crammed right up next to mr. brown, while his bag and whitney's purse was being searched. the inside of whitney houston's purse is something to behold, to be sure. i was trapped, because i had to put my belt and coats on and gather my stuff.

mr brown looks at me, shakes his head. the security woman was not american, and had no idea who these two were. bobby looked over at whitney in the glass cage and says "this B**ch is taking all my lighters." i looked over and saw a small pile of 7-8 lighters. this apparently sent her into a rage. she jumped up and ran over to where the bags were being searched and got into a screaming match with the security guard about them being home and how they got all their lighters taken away when leaving for milan, and now that they were home they were getting them taken away again, and it was bulls**t. She looks over at me as if to say "back me up here, lady" but i pretended not to speak or understand english. then she said to bobby "get our lighters, we're getting out of here" .. it was a screaming match. and i was trapped. i packed up as fast as i could.. and got the hell outta there.

20 minutes later, i saw a few flash bulbs go off in the distance, and saw the couple leave the airport with minimal paparazzi effort. whitney had a long mink coat in tow, and in the interim had put on a stylish hat and tied her shoes. . . they waved quickly to a couple of fans/photographers and were finally out of my life :)