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February 6, 2002 - Blast from the Past


I get to work this morning, and jump online to spend the day in the IRC channel I hang out in.

(I got to work, I didn't say I actually did work once I was there.)

Anyway, some of the other regulars tell me that one of our friends has some 'gossip' or 'news' that pertained to me in some way.  Despite all my whining, they wouldn't tell me what it was, save from some subtle hints I somehow missed, possibly because I couldn't spot a subtle hint if it hit me in the throat with a cricket bat, which it wouldn't do, because that isn't how subtlety works.

Mick, the guy with the news, shows up eventually, and tells me, and the other folks in the channel (who already knew), exactly what was up.

I'm Chris in the partially edited transcript that follows, and I've changed most of the names to protect, well, everyone.

Although, one name in particular was left as it is.

<Mick> oh, I also got to meet a friend of my headhunter's today. She stopped in to meet with someone in HR before going in to the parade and her friend came with her
<Mick> Three guesses who her friend was
<Chris> uh
<Chris> Christina Ricci?
<Mick> *BZZZT*
<Jeeves> i'm glad i'm back in time for this
<Chris> Spencer Johnson?
<Mick> *BZZZT*
<Mick> think "bad face lift"
<Chris> John Madden?
<Mick> Wow! You got it completely wrong
<Chris> wait!
<Chris> gimme another clue
<Chris> Carol Channing?
<StinkyPete> Christ, chris, even *I* guessed it in three
<StinkyPete> and I'm a fucking moron
<Loki> You were warm with Spencer Johnson
<Mick> ok, you were sorta close when you guessed Spencer Johnson
<Mick> hehehe
<Chris> uh uh
<Chris> John Gray?
<Mick> no, what is your connection to Johnson?
<Chris> Cheese?
<Chris> John Cleese?
<StinkyPete> snkkkkkkt
<Chris> aggh
<Chris> I don't have a connection with him. I just hate him
<StinkyPete> it was Claudia Colbert
<Mick> EXACTLY chris
<Chris> someone i hate
<Mick> and...
<Chris> bad facelift
<Mick> and...
<Chris> cheese
<Mick> no
<StinkyPete> someone chris hates? this may take a while
<Mick> how did you express your hate of Spencer?
<Chris> melanie griffith?
<Mick> ok, right gender, anyhow
<Chris> FELTMAN?
<Chris> FELTMAN?
* StinkyPete spits water all over his desk
<StinkyPete> Melanie griffith?
<Mick> "Hey Mick, I want you to meet a friend of mine. Mick, this is Carol Feltman. Carol, this is Mick, one of my clients."
<Mick> >resounding THUD as Joe's jaw hits floor<


Yep.  My friend met Carol Feltman.  Note:  background info on Carol Feltman can be found here and here.  Also: Carol Feltman!  Holy shit!  Holy shit!


<Chris> holy shit!
<Mick> that's pretty much what I said
<Chris> that's wild
<Mick> and my HR director was there too, so I couldn't really be a wiseass
<Mick> nor did I have a camera
<Chris> damn
<Chris> doesn't matter, that's so funny
<Chris> bah ha
<Chris> that rules
<MrLJ> Mick: was she all squirrely?
<Mick> yeah, I honestly think she either had a bad face lift or a chance encounter with flying battery acid
<MrLJ> "Hi, Carol." *pause* "You know, something about you seems... fussy."
<Mick> and I was there stammering like a moron because everything I wanted to say would have been wildly inappropriate
<Chris> wow
<Mick> I wanted to ask her about the embroidered sign, drop a hint that I heard about how her book sucked ass from some website, etc
<Mick> friggin HR.... ah well
<Chris> wow
<Chris> that rules
<Mick> MrLJ: she'd remind you of a fourth-grade teacher
<Chris> man, that must have been funny
<Mick> I'm rarely rendered completely speechless and this was one of those times. Not because I couldn't think of what to say, I just couldn't say it
<MrLJ> Man... you couldn't just stammer for a bit, then say "I..I'm such a big fan!!!"
<Chris> dang. da feltman
<Chris> how did you not laugh or something
<Mick> willpower
<Chris> so she looked bad, huh?
<Mick> well, she just reminded me of those women who refuse to age gracefully no matter what nature had to say about it
<Chris> yeah
<Chris> did you shake hands with her?
<Mick> yup
<Chris> wow
<Mick> and then immediately washed them
<Mick> right there, on her shirt
<Mick> "nice ta meetcha <shake> >BEEPBEEP<
<Mick> It was actually pretty quick, it was like "Here, meet my friend. Ya, we need to talk soon, yaddayadda." "Yeah, great. Well, nice to meet you. Have fun at the parade" /Exeunt/
<Chris> that so rules. i'm jealous
<Mick> Heh, after all this I hope it was /the/ Carol Feltman. But looking at her I just *knew* she had a little embroidered sign
<Chris> i have her book at home with her picture
<Chris> we can compare

When I got home, I uploaded the picture of Carol, and sure enough, it looks like Mick was actually introduced to THE CAROL FELTMAN.

Amazing.  I know about 10 people, and one of them meets the woman who had such a profound effect on this site.  Can't beat it fer weirdness!

So, folks.  Carol's site may be down, and she may have never responded to the e-mail I sent her all those months ago... but she's still out there.

Keep your eyes peeled!


February 5, 2002 - You Got What I Weed

So, there hasn't been a whole lot to do at my current job at the outreach center.  For the first three days, I didn't even have access to a computer.

It makes me realize just how much I need a computer at all times.  Just to feel normal and good.  I was asked to get some information on places where we could get some tuberculosis tests done (for clients and staff, yay!), and I realized that without a computer, I was going to have to... to... open.  A phone book.




Sheez.  How medieval.

One of the social workers was looking for a calculator, and when I couldn't find one, I suggested she use the one on her computer, the one that comes with Windows.  She didn't know how, so I had to show her where it was.

Man, just clicking on the Start button, pulling down the menus... just to be touching a computer at work... it made me happy.  I got excited.  I got all stiff in the bad place.  At the very least, I doubt she'll ask me for help again.  Not with all the moaning.

In addition to TB, lice is apparently a problem.  Lice is a problem at my job.  Lice.  Shaving my head was a bit fortuitous, in retrospect.

This one kid today looked like he hadn't showered in, well, ever.  Hey, I'm not judging.  These are street kids.  But he insisted on shaking my hand.  I'm not normally germ-phobic, at all, but sheez, I was off and running to the kitchen to wash up as soon as he turned around.

Plus, he shook my hand in that 'cool' way, where it's kind of a slap and kind of a shake, and I don't do that well.  I'm a lame white boy!  I was taught to have a good, firm handshake, not one of those slap-a-doodles.

Phrases like 'slap-a-doodles' may be more evidence that I'm lame.

For another example, take what happened to me on Friday.  I was outside smoking on my break, and this guy walks up.  He raises his eyebrows at me, then makes a smoking gesture with his empty hand.  Like, he does a mime of a man smoking, only at high speed, for maybe a second.  I'm feeling generous, or at least afraid for my life, so I pull out my pack of cigarettes, and offer him one.  He pauses for a second, then takes one, and leaves.

It's only later I find out this is the international symbol for 'got any pot?'


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