My brother Skip works for a fairly large insurance agency. One of his co-workers has made a habit of wearing a hipster band t-shirt to work every Friday. The t-shirt features a tacky looking Pegasus.

Skip decided that the best way to deal with the situation was through some good natured mocking. So he conjured up a graphic:



(I'm not totally sure where he got the source graphics from, but if you recognize these as your original artwork, please email me and I'll take it down or give you a large shiny credit. I'm pretty sure he tossed them together out of several non-copyrighted sources though.)

Pegasus Friday was born.

Skip sent the graphic to me, as well as posting it on an internet message board. I started to send the picture around at work on Fridays.

Skip made another graphic:



The concept of Pegasus Friday spread to Detroit. Skip made a third graphic, and it was forwarded to the Accounts Receivable department of a rather popular international energy company.



See, somewhere amongst all this Friday e-mail forwarding, Skip decided that the best way to mock his friend for his effeminate t-shirt was to spread the mockery to companies all over the country. Beware----Pegasus Friday could be coming to a company near you. Remember: it's not Friday unless you've strapped on your wings and have prepared to take unsettlingly large, equine flight into the upcoming weekend.

The sky's the limit with Pegasus Friday!

On Christmas Eve, upon learning that my mom's side of the family would not be able to attend my Christmas Lunch, I decided to host Easter. I'm not sure EXACTLY how it happened, although I remember that I was really tired and one of my Aunts---she shall remain nameless---was pretty drunk.

Yesterday at work it hit me that we had somewhere around twenty people coming over. How much ham would I need? Would the formerly accursed Lamb Cake still be accursed? I did some math and figured out I'd need approximately twenty three pounds of ham. This presented a small storage problem, since after we bought the wine and the beer and the potatoes and the bacon and the frosting and eggs and mushrooms and yams...well, how exactly do you fit that much in the fridge?

Luckily for us, we had no OTHER food in the house aside from a door full of condiments, so things fit pretty well with only a little shoving and grunting.

Then, this morning I was standing in the kitchen, all the burners on the stove firing, making five pounds of German potato salad in preparation for tomorrow. I figured I'd put the salad in the crock pot, put it in the fridge overnight (somehow---I would shoehorn it in) and then reheat it before lunch. The doorbell rang, and Bryan answered the door to find a gigantic cut fruit floral bouquet from his work wife, Anette. She thought it would be perfect for tomorrow, and she was right---it's gorgeous AND delicious, and much fancier than what I was planning on doing in the way of appetizers. (Throwing a bunch of multi colored peeps into a bowl and saying "have at.") Unfortunately it's also giant.

We figured that if we removed the middle fridge shelf and stacked the hams on top of one another, put the beer in one of the crispers and balanced the deli drawer on top of the hams that it would fit. And it does. As long as no one needs to open the door, because I'm pretty sure it could come crashing down at any minute.

I'm not sure what I'll do with the potato salad. Maybe I'll stick it out in the garage overnight. Or on the porch, with the wine! Natural refrigeration, yo.

We've taken several pictures, which I will post when I have the ability. I've been asked by some people at work to document the saga of the lamb cake---apparently many families have the same tradition, and many many families end up serving it in two parts because it's such a pain in the ass to make. Which, when you think about it, is what Easter is all about. You have to go through some stress and rage lots of bad words before you can get to the sweet, delicious, coconut frosted salvation. And even then, you'll have people whining "but I don't liiiiiike coconut!" Or "you can't use coconut. That's not how the recipe is written. You need to take the recipe literally. Any interpretation is bad." And you may have to expand your horizons and make it with Splenda instead of sugar, for people who love lamb cake but can't accept the fact that it's made with white sugar. Maybe that's really the devious purpose of this horribly fitted cake mold---to teach people the true spirit of Christianity. It'd be more effective than those horrifying pamphlets or that crappy music, that's for sure.

Or maybe I've just breathed in too much white vinegar over the course of the morning.

There is a certain union which has put out a recruitment commercial, stating "if you are the type of person who believes that everything happens for a reason, there is a reason you are seeing this commercial."

Is it just me, or is appealing to someone's sense of fatalism the wrong way to go about seeking qualified employees? I mean, I don't really feel comfortable knowing that next time I need to rely on certain large scale public structures that they might have been put together by someone who knows jack about using a nail gun but who really believes that the universe has conspired to put him in career using power tools.

It's "Ill-a-noy," not "Ill-a-noise."

For crying out loud.

And while we're at it, Italian is NOT pronounced "Eye-talian."

Also, check marks? Yeah, they're made with the "v" part on the left and the straight part on the right.

I recently had an issue trying to buy a winter coat.
My nice washable wool coat had been washed way too many times due to the amount of pet hair in the house, and it sort of fell apart about two weeks ago. I figured that I'd be able to run into a store, snatch a winter coat off their sale rack and get something warm for $35. Hell, it may be March, but we just had a blizzard, so it's not like we don't still have a need for winter wear in Ohio.

It turns out that not only are the stores only stocking shorts and tank tops now (even though we won't be ready for those until late June/early July), but that most of them totally did away with coats around Valentine's Day. I had to go online to buy a coat.

It's not like I was totally coat-less. I had my color guard coat, and I layered it with hooded sweatshirts and scarves. It was a look that was not professional, and I was getting slack at work for it. I would expect that in a state where it doesn't really snow until January and doesn't stop until April, that we would keep coats in the stores at least until March. Also, we don't get hot weather until the end of June, and that doesn't stop until October. In October it immediately drops to freezing (although we won't have snow until January) and the whole fashion thing is all messed up.

I've learned my lesson. I can't wear a black wool coat while I live in this house with these animals. I can hang it up and lint brush it every day, but something large and reddish brown is going to launch himself at my crotch or lean on me, and fluffy orange and calico things are going to hurl their small bodies at my shoulders and I am still going to stagger around covered in pet dander.

I suppose it's nothing compared to the amount I shed. I imagine that when the pets groom themselves they're forever pulling off long strands of witchy hair and thinking "how the hell did I not notice THIS?"

Bring it on, Ohio. Now I am properly suited up and pet hair proofed.

This morning I got up and got dressed to shovel us out of the two feet of snow covering our driveway. Steve managed to pull his lead out of the ground and was trying to run around like a crazy dog in the snow, but he kept falling through rolling in it, and I tried to bumble around after him, catching his line only to have it slip through my mittens. At one point he jerked me over INTO the snow. We had some neighbors outside who were laughing and laughing, and then I started laughing, and eventually I managed to drag Steve inside. I went back out and was about five shovelfuls into the driveway (and wheezing like there was no tomorrow) when one of the men came up and offered to snowblow the drive.

Bryan came outside to dig the snow from between our cars, and in that manner the driveway was cleared off.

So we met some neighbors. Turns out they'd all gone out walking on Friday, too, and they had also stopped for a drink on the way home.

Only the major roads were plowed and the lots were still bad, so we decided to put on backpacks and walk to the grocery store since we were pretty much out of food. The Giant Eagle lot was pretty icy and there were TONS of cars. We ended up standing in line with a guy who had obviously driven all the way to the store to buy a half gallon of organic milk. A HALF GALLON OF ORGANIC MILK. Emergency supplies, my ass. We were also in line with a dude who was buying staple foods and booze. There's a man after my own heart.

Then we walked home. I was surprised how many people were out driving, although maybe their roads were plowed, whereas ours was still totally covered.

We had a huge snowstorm yesterday. Downtown the snow mixed with the ice from the broken water line and made the streets a skating rink. Of course there were no plows in Cleveland. There never seem to be plows in Cleveland. It took me about a half hour to get out of the downtown area (and I park on the OUTSKIRTS of downtown), but once I hit the suburbs it wasn't too bad. It was slick and at times my vision was obscured---I drove 20 mph the whole way home---but the plows had already made at least one pass.

I realize that I just typed that driving 30 miles home at 20 mph in a snowstorm "wasn't too bad." This is how you can tell someone is from the Cleveland area. It'll be 23 degrees out and to us it feels "nice and brisk."

But seriously, I've driven in much worse. At least it was still LIGHT out, which makes a huge difference when you can't technically tell where the road is. They never plow my neighborhood roads so that was fun. I think I was driving over lawns but hell, how could you tell? I didn't hit anyone or anything and I didn't fishtail once, so technically I won the winter driving derby.

Last night we wanted to celebrate my birthday, but obviously driving out to the restaurant in a neighboring city was out of the question. We happen to live about a quarter of a mile away from a little Italian place, so since the roads hadn't been touched we just bundled up in layers and walked. Surprisingly, we weren't the only lunatics walking on the street, although we WERE the only lunatics who had walked to that particular restaurant. By the time we were done the wind had died down and the roads were sort of plowed.

Today we're out of coffee and are pretty low on food, so maybe when the wind dies down we'll take a walk to the store. When Bryan opened the front door it was brushing the snow, and our cars are totally blocked in, so I'm sure it'll be an adventure.

I love Ohio!

So cute. So dumb.

Old and pasty. And with freckles that no amount of bleach has totally removed. And grammatically incorrect, as I like to start sentences with "and." And. And. And. And bitter.

Have I possibly mentioned bitter at all in this blog before?

I'm starting to think the little bastard ate his dog bed on purpose.

This article reminds me of the days when I'd try to stumble through Final Fantasy, often stopping to ask myself WHY it was so pointless and formulaic. Hilarious.

A few weeks ago my dad had a birthday. At the time I didn't think anything of it---it was Valentine's day, my dad turned an unspecified age...something was missing. What could it be? What had I forgotten?

Last week as I was driving home I saw an 08 sticker on someone's car and realized that my car is registered to my dad---at the time I bought it I was disabled (that's a fancy way of saying unemployed due to extenuating circumstances) and I'd never had the title transferred. I'd completely forgotten to do the registration.

This is odd, because last year I'd gotten some mail reminding me do register the month before. This year I'd gotten no notice. I logged onto oplates.com to see if I could register and found out that I could not---apparently they'd sent the paperwork to my old address and instead of forwarding the mail the post office returned it. Instead of sending it to the other address listed for the plates (my parents' house) they sat on it. I had to change the address, a process that takes 24 hours and required me to sweet talk my dad's drivers license number off of him. He tried to pull my leg, giving me all sorts of backtalk about identity theft and the like until I gently told him that I already had his social security number and that because of my job I had total access to all sorts of detailed personal information about him anyway.

The next day I logged back on, and uh oh! Turns out I needed to be e-checked if I wanted to renew my registration. I wasn't aware of this because of the mailing situation. Ordinarily this wouldn't have been an issue, except that I work during the week and I'd have to go a whole week on still expired plates before being able to make it to the checking place. Also, the sensors I'd had pin-fit months ago were wearing away and my engine light had been flickering for weeks. The sensor was no big deal, and I even had a quote for the work I needed, but I couldn't get e-checked while the light was on, and there was that whole "working during the week" issue to contend with.

Let me bitch about e-check for a minute.
E-check, if it were a consistent statewide thing, would be delightful.
It is not. It's only required for certain counties, which makes no sense. I live in an e-check county but do the bulk of my driving in a non e-check county. Many people living in non e-check counties do their driving in e-check counties. I think it should be either a statewide requirement, or totally done away with.

Anyway, I figured I'd be OK if I could make it to today without getting pulled over. Last night I assumed we were in the clear----if I got pulled over on Saturday (today) I could explain that I was on my way to the mechanic to get fixed up for e-check so I could renew my plates. Then, around 11:00 p.m., we got a call from Bryan's brother. Bryan's nephew had cut himself and needed stitches. They needed someone to come and pick him and Bryan's sister in law up from the hospital and give them a ride home. Bryan's car needed gas and was snowed in at the top of the driveway. I told him to take my car.

Anakin was OK--he got two stitches in his finger, and Bryan picked him and Carol up and drove them home without incident. Unfortunately, on the way back he was followed by a cop for several miles. Finally, the cop pulled him over, explaining that he'd run the plates, and---surprise! They were expired.
Bryan had to explain that it wasn't his car, it was mine. Then he had to explain that it was technically registered to my dad. The cop asked "did he have a birthday recently?" Bryan played stupid. "I know he had a birthday on the 14th. I don't know anything about the plates. I'm not really involved, I just needed to borrow the car."

I'm sure that this didn't sound like a very believable story, but seriously, what kind of an idiot would steal a Kia Rio? He ran Bryan's license and it turned out clean, so the cop actually let him go without giving him a ticket for expired plates or anything.

I could have understood Bryan being followed if he were an erratic driver,but the fact that he was followed for MILES before getting pulled over for plates is sort of dumb. Chill out, Officer Smiley, the state will get its $38.50 soon enough.
(I suppose the cop was just doing his job, but one of my pet peeves is cops following people in cars when there is no speeding, weaving or weird braking going on. The city where I went to high school was notorious for bored police shenanigans, so much so that they'd literally pull people over and MAKE UP an infraction. I will forever equate cop car stalking with that bastard Officer Lonnie.)

I'm impressed Bryan got let off. I'm the sort of person who never DOESN'T get ticketed. I've been pulled over three times in my life, and each time my mouth was faster than my brain. I know I would have said something like "Thank GOD the streets are safe!" and ended up with my car impounded.

Where was I? Oh yes...registration. This morning I awoke in a bad mood, fully prepared to drop $300 on a sensor. I got in my car and turned the key....and the engine light was gone! Could I make it to e-check? In Eaton Township? I drove with my fingers crossed the whole way. Even when I DID make it to the testing place, (thirty nerve shattering minutes later) I tried not to get my hopes up. I figured that my light would pop on again, or that even though the light wasn't on the sensor would still flag something. But it passed! I can't believe it passed.

On the way back from the testing area, my light popped back on. I laughed a little laugh of glee. Obviously I'll be replacing the sensor, but at least my car is legal now.

I need to get the title transferred, because this was a huge pain in my backside.
Better yet, I need a job where I could just be driven everywhere by someone else in a much nicer car than mine.