Just three glasses with dinner can support finally letting her have it.

Source: The Onion

Recently I found two coupons for Motorola Bluetooth headsets in my Costco mailer. The first was the latest version of their standard product - the H715 - which looks more or less like my old headsets. The second was a technological marvel called the Motopure H12 that I almost purchased on looks alone. The H12 is heralded as “the future of audio technology” performing admirably in “even the noisiest of environments.” It has a chrome and black finish with sharper squared corners that immediately catch the eye.

I reluctantly began my due diligence on these two products as I already knew what I wanted. Apparently there is still a little discipline in me to check the adrenaline of impulse buying, and it saved me physical and financial grief in this case.

There was a definite trend to the reviews I pulled up on the shiny H12 - they went from bad to worse. I will not go into the details of the reviews but will summarize with “it sounds like you are talking at the bottom of a pool.”

I had not planned on researching the H715, but circumstances forced the issue. And the reviews were generally very positive. The basics were all in place: Good enough listening volume that users actually had to turn it down a little bit. Recipients of cell phone calls did not have to strain to understand what was being said. The Bluetooth headset is easy to turn off when not in use and has a decent battery life.

The punch line is that I am now the proud new owner of a Motorola H715 and can speak from experience. Callers sound a little tinny, but they are plenty loud and I can understand every word. Everyone I have called says they have no problem hearing and understanding my voice, even when the fan is blowing in the car. The headset is so light it’s barely noticeable on my ear - not much different from wearing sunglasses. And I have not touched upon the features that are now considered standard: Control of many phone features from the buttons on the headset, easy up and down buttons for volume control, ability to switch between two cell phones, sound and light status indicators, microUSB connectivity, and so on…

Store prices vary for both phones, so let’s just say that Motorola’s retail store sells the H715 for $20 less than the Motopure H12, and they include a free car charger with H715! Enough said - you get the picture. Happy shopping!

You are looking at Yahoo news in your cube, reading about some long extinct penguin that was just sighted alive. Suddenly you catch a shadow moving in the corner of your eye and speed-click off the page to your Outlook calendar. Thus the ubiquitous click-off. And your Division VP walks by…

The prevalence of this phenomenon hit me when I was making social rounds of the rows of cubicles. Often 100% of the offices I visited included a rapid click-off by the inhabitant. Using history as a model, I surmised that either some office workers browsed the Web all the time, or all office workers browsed the Web some of the time. What grief to upper management! The lost hours must be astronomical.

I am by no means claiming innocence on the matter. I have no idea how I would escape boredom and absurdity without instant Internet access in my cube. Like the Dr. Pepper ditty, I’m a clicker too.

Ah may favorite night! Wait I mean other than Friday and Saturday. And I guess Thursday since it’s close to Friday… But never mind all that; this is the one night that I actually watch prime time TV. It’s great. In about 30 minutes I will cozy up on my couch to watch House and my new favorite, Fringe. Tuesdays are great because it’s not Monday, and it’s not Wednesday so I’m not in class, and these shows are on. And I have wine. So that makes it better. I thought I better write this before that kicks in.

I just got home from my hair appointment, which despite the fact that they serve wine, has become more of a hassle than a treat. Remember when getting your hair or nails done was a chance to feel pampered? I’m sure I’m not alone in feeling that these outings have become nothing more than another chore to squeeze in between work and errands. I’m not sure that this is due to the increase in frequency or the myriad of items that now fill our calendars. Or maybe it’s because these maintenance items have become a necessity rather than a luxury. Never the less, at the moment I have shiny, yummy smelling hair that will be immediately destroyed by my styling attempts. And I am about to begin an evening of mindless activity. Bliss! Between endless hours of work followed by endless hours of homework, I revel in the tranquility of stagnation.

I know you have all watched at least one episode of House and if you haven’t become completely consumed by his relentless chastising and negativity that ultimately makes us (women) strangely attracted to him, then I guess you don’t share my elation. But if you haven’t already, you should check out Fringe. It’s like X-Files meets CSI. Great fun! AND it co-stars Joshua Jackson. Oh yeah, that’s right, Pacey Whitter from Dawson’s Creek. Classic! And all of you out there laughing at me right now should shutty, because once again I have allowed you a glimpse in to my cheesy, teen drama obsession. Is it really so bad to want to reminisce about high school and college? Ah, good times.

So I’m off! Happy hump day! Remember, only two more days til Friday!

When I was is college, one of my three part-time jobs included working at a daycare. One that was haunted I might add, but I’ll save that for my dark and creepy blog, which will be launched as soon as Leonard caves. I lived in the apartment above said daycare and, therefore, inherited the duty of opening up at 6 am (which, if you remember, is insanely early at the age of 20) and cooking breakfast for the early kids.

Now I shouldn’t have to explain that the purpose of providing breakfast between 6 am and 7 am is to provide sustenance for the children of parents with early work times to whom it might be more challenging to get the kids up and fed by 5 am. The intent of this free of charge courtesy was understood by the majority of our parents without explanation.

And then there was Joey. Or maybe I should say, Joey’s dad. Every morning around quarter of seven, just before the breakfast clean up, Joey and his dad would arrive. He would mosey in, unpack Joey’s things and greet us as we got the 2-year-old seated, bibbed, and ready for his breakfast. Understanding that he clearly brought his child in not because he didn’t have time to fix him breakfast but more to capitalize on the free fixings, we weren’t so bothered until Joey’s father began grab a serving for himself.

Joey was a bit of a cryer when his dad dropped him off, so he had begun to hang around for a while each morning. We offered our psychological advise–typically the longer you hang around and prolong the goodbye, the more difficult it is for the child to recover. Now for the most part, kids who fuss when their parent walks away have already forgotten and begun to play with their friends by the time mom or dad reaches the car. But Joey’s dad was certain that his presence was beneficial to his son’s mental state. So he stayed… and ate.

Squatting on the miniature chair, leaning over the little u-shaped craft table, Joey’s dad shoveled in whatever was available–pancakes, sausage, eggs, bacon–you name it. And just to clarify, we never offered him a plate but one day he asked and, completely caught off guard by the odd request, I said yes. I guess I assumed it was a one time thing, but the next day he did the same thing.

After several weeks of pilfering food from the mouths of toddlers, we finally found the nerve to address the situation. We explained the reason for offering early breakfast and reminded him that this was something provided by the catholic church with which the daycare was affiliated and that it was really meant for those who needed it. This did not sit well with Joey’s dad, and we saw less and less of both of them until finally Joey stopped showing up.

Several months later, my phone rang and on the other end, my friend (who also worked at the day care) rushed me to turn on the TV. Upon flipping to the instructed, I saw Jenny Jones. And in one of her chairs on stage was none other than Joey’s dad. Jenny’s topic that day? Male eating disorders. Turns out Joey’s dad had bulimia. Unbelievable, but explains a whole lot…

I had been a loyal customer to Sprint since my very first cell phone. I basked in the years of great service, no dropped calls, and high-quality phones. As wonderful as it was to live in this bubble of perfection, this experience left me ill-prepared to deal with the reality of wireless networks.

You must remember when the color trend began to invade the cell phone world. Stuck with the standard black or gray, girly girls everywhere cheered at the revelation of the pink razor. If you also recall, the razor set a new standard for the shape and size of phones as well.

Gushing with excitement, I grabbed my laptop, credit card in hand, ready to purchase my new style of communication. Of course when I checked the site I realized that my perfect carrier was apparently less than perfect. I couldn’t believe that they weren’t offering it. Well I figured that it couldn’t be long before they offered it. I mean you have to be competitive right? So I waited.

I was trying to be patient but I finally broke. I polled people at work to gather data on Verizon’s services. For the most part I received positive feedback, so finally I canceled my Sprint service and opened an account with Verizon, then happily awaited my wonderful pink phone. In my excitement I even joined my husbands account with mine and ordered him a black razor.

A few short days later I received my new phone. My high spirits were only mildly affected by the tiny, barely audible sound of the voices on the other end of the line. The design of the phone was nearly impossible to hold on my shoulder. I grew more cranky when I called my voicemail for the first time and it requested a password and even more after the customer service operator told me that feature cannot be turned off.

When my phone was stolen a couple months later, I was initially saddened but ultimately thankful. Happy to be rid of a phone that I dreaded using because of the strain it took to hear the caller, I barely hesitated at the additional cost it took to get a replacement (since I was still under contract). Let me just say that Verizon has horrible phone choices. Usually I’m trying to decide between a few that I really like and with them I’m struggling to find one that’s kind of close to what I want.

I finally chose the LG Envy (or whatever). I was anxious about how the sound quality would be but after making my first call, my fear was alleviated. The sound is great and I love the full key pad for texting. In fact, I warmed to the whole texting trend because of the full pad. But this is not a happy ending. A whole new set of problems came along with my new phone. Most annoying of which is the way it turns itself off for no reason. No, it’s not because the battery is low or because it loses it’s signal. It literally powers down on a whim. I might be in the middle of a conversation or the phone is just sitting on my desk. I’ll go to make a call and the thing is off! It drops calls all the time with a loud, angry beep. It randomly loses service when I’m not on it and begins chanting “Loss of service” in this horribly annoying, mechanical voice. And this last one is not really a big deal but it’s weird. I have it set to say the person’s name who is calling or texting and it can sound out almost anything, but the simplest name in my contact list, Lyn, it spells! So whenever she sends a text, it says “message from L-Y-N.” It’s totally odd.

My poor husband still has his razor. It takes approximately 2 full seconds after any button is pushed for the action to take place. It’s horrible. I’m thinking about getting us the Blackberry Storm as our next phones. I hope we have better luck with that one!

This review is based on personal experience and is thus not clinical but very real. For a brief history, I have never found a cold remedy that has worked or even helped much for that matter. On the first Monday of the month I found myself almost out of sick time and facing a fierce cold in the morning. My throat was swelling, I was starting to feel tired and woozy, and my rampaging sinuses were making my eyes water.

Normally I would have packed up and gone home in this state. Due to lack of sick time I instead headed for Safeway. My plan was to get zinc lozenges or tablets and I had heard good things about Zicam. The only Zicam selection in the store was gel that was placed directly inside the nose (Zicam Cold Remedy Gel Swabs). This seemed a little exotic to me, but I purchased a box as I did not feel up to visiting any more stores. I also got some generic lozenges for my throat.

As soon as I got to the car I applied the gel to my nose. The product consisted of individually wrapped q-tips soaked in gel with applications to be made every 4 hours. My throat was so irritable that the lozenges made my eyes tear.

For historical reference, I tend to have fierce colds that last for many days, and I did not expect anything different this time around. My short-term goal was simply to survive the day at work. After a few hours at my desk I could safely say that things were not getting worse. After lunch I could say that both my sore throat and congestion were improving. By the end of the day I could say that I felt okay - not great but not in need of staying home. The cold continued to subside and never ran its usual course.

I saw three possilble conclusions to the above experience: 1. Miracle. 2. Coincidence. 3. Very effective product. There is enough evidence for choice 3 for me to write this review, and I recommend at least trying the topical Zicam.

If you noticed a recent lull in my posts, it’s because Cubunga got blacklisted on my company network. Instead of seeing the bucolic Cubunga jungle I’d get a nasty note that the site was inaccessible and if I wanted to protest I could take it up with IT. My (imaginary) conversation went something like this: “I have a blog where I make fun of all you guys and it’s imperative that I get on this morning to publish my latest story.”

What’s odd is that Cubunga always returns to the network - sometimes in an hour, sometimes in a day. We must have some secret admirers in IT! I tried disciplining myself into posting at home before work, but I ran out of time every time. So it has become a lottery and, if the site takes too long to load, it’s a sure sign Cubunga has been shut down again. Then no story for you!

So I’m kind of addicted to school. I mean every time I finish, a few years later I seem to feel a need to go back. Well I guess this is only really the second time, so we’ll see what happens 6 years from now. One thing I like about higher education is that you are no longer treated like a kid. From the moment I interviewed with the department chair for a spot in my Master’s program, I noticed the difference. It’s no longer teacher/student, you listen/I talk, follow my strict rules or else. Now I am responsible for making sure I attend class, that I know the material, and that I am prepared for exams. It’s a great relief and also a great responsibility, but that’s what being a grown up is about right?

Well let me tell you what ruins this whole liberating experience – the annoying student. Yes, you know who I’m talking about. There’s one in every class. This person may take on different traits depending on the situation or the level of education, but the bottom line is they simply cannot just come to class and act normal.

In my class, this student takes on the role of someone who apparently cannot concentrate without absolute silence. I find this fascinating given that in the real world, one must learn to be productive in various situations. I mean if you can’t function outside your own custom made environment, how will you ever survive, let alone be successful.

So this person, from day one, has had a huge issue with my small group of colleagues. It began with one of my biggest pet peeves – the shhhhhh. Oh I cannot stand that! I just think it’s one of the rudest, most anger-provoking gestures. Agh! I’m getting mad just thinking about it. So anyway, the shushing turned into comments about how whispering distracts him from being able to pay attention.

I think it’s important to interject here with some geographical information. I sit at one corner of the room while he sits in the other. Meaning that it seems almost impossible to be able to hear soft speaking from that distance. I would say that he has super-hearing but if that were true wouldn’t the amplified voice of the professor standing directly in front of him drown out the rest?

Several events have occurred, outbursts gradually increasing in hostility and “tattling” to the professor after class. I have to ask, are we in Grad School or Grade School? Well last week, the sh*&t hit the fan. He lost it completely. At the end of a class filled with purposeful silence on our part in an attempt to subdue the beast, a muffled conversation broke out within our group. Suddenly, he began shouting, “I can’t pay attention with the constant noise from back there! This happens every class and I’m tired of nothing being done about it!” To our laughter, he mumbled to shut up.

Our sympathies go out to our professor, who is caught in the middle of this one-sided drama. We are going to try to make it through the end of the semester without inciting another incident. We have come to the conclusion that we remind him either of the kids he hated in high school or the ones he wanted to be. I can only hope that I don’t have to endure another class with this annoyance. Wish me luck…

A few weeks ago I was at the Burbank airport. The gift store carried Mexican jumping beans. I bought a couple of boxes for my kids.

I was as delighted with the jittery beans as my daughters were, but I was even more charmed by the informational card that came with the beans. The irresistible, off-kilter writing style of the card’s author reminds of Dr. Bronner’s, with the added bonus of making sense.

Excerpts:

IT IS IMPORTANT TO KEEP CHILDREN OUT OF HARMS WAY. IN THE LAST 10 YEARS, I HAVE ONLY HEARD OF TWO INSTANCES OF CHILDREN SWALLOWING A MEXICAN JUMPING BEAN. ONE LADY CALLED BACK TO LET ME KNOW THAT THEY FOUND THE MISSING BEAN. IT IS MY BELIEF THAT THE STRONG ACID CONTENT OF THE STOMACH WILL KILL THE GERMS AND LARVA IN SHORT ORDER.
…
THE MEXICAN JUMPING BEAN IS UNDOUBTEDLY AMONG ONE OF OUR CREATOR’S
BEST ACCOMPLISHMENTS. IT UNDOUBTEDLY GIVES MORE PLEASURE AND
INTRIGUE FOR THE MONEY THAN ANY OTHER CREATION.
…
REGRETTABLY, THEY ARE DOOMED WHEN THEY LEAVE THEIR NATURAL HABITAT IN MEXICO. THERE ARE NO HOST PLANTS THAT WILL PERMIT THEM TO CONTINUE THEIR LIFE CYCLE AND THE ENVIRONMENT WILL KILL THEM FROM HEAT, DEHYDRATION, FREEZING. THE MOTH SHOULD BE PERMITTED TO FLY FREE IF THEY EMERGE FROM THE BEAN. A SCENIC TRIP AS IT WERE.
…
[Instructions for playing the Mexican Jumping Bean Game include the following legal advice:] If you wager, make it small amounts. The Government doesn’t like gambling unless they get a piece of the action.

Source: BoingBoing and Jumping Beans R Us