Accidentally Stalking TV's Frank

Once upon a time, there was this completely awesome show called Mystery Science Theater 3000.  It was awesome.   (Did I just mention that?  Well, it bears repeating.)  It consisted of a guy and two puppets making fun of really bad movies.  It was the best show.  Ever.

Unfortunately, even fantastically brilliant shows must come to an end, as did this one.  The good news is that several of the original cast members have banded together to create the road show Cinematic Titanic.  The puppets are gone, but the biting wit is still intact.  It is... wait for it... awesome.

So, last weekend CT did a double feature in Elgin, IL, which is a mere hours drive from me.  Kerry and I plunked down a sizable chunk of money, hopped in my car and off we went!  Now, I've never driven to Elgin before, and I've certainly never been to the Elgin Community College (where CT was showing).  Therefore, once my GPS got me to the campus I was a bit lost.

Well, Kerry and I were driving through a parking lot on campus, trying to decide which building was hosting CT, when we approached a lone person walking down the pedestrian way.  Kerry said, "Hey, that guy looks just like TV's Frank."  For those of you who are not MST3k fans, TV's Frank is Frank Conniff, a comedian and writer who played one of the Mad Scientists, appropriately named TV's Frank, on the show.

The guy was wearing all black and had a shock of white hair.  Just like Frank Conniff.  I agreed with Kerry that this guy totally looked like him and wondered to myself if people were dressing in costume for Cinematic Titanic.  No one did at the last CT we attended, but this is October.  Maybe it's a Halloween thing. 

As we flew past the guy, we got a better look at him and realized it truly was Frank Conniff, not some Frank Conniff impersonator.  (Are there Frank Conniff impersonators?  There should be.  They'd be great at MiSTie parties!)  With only a few moments of hesitation, I threw my car in reverse and drove BACKWARDS to catch up to him again.  Kerry then said something like, "Are you really going to go back to him?  What will you say to him?"  I replied, "I don't know... something."  I had no idea what I would say, but I certainly wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to at least blather like an idiot to a famous person.  Call it my life's passion.

I managed to catch up to him without running him over (I'm not the best reverse driver).  Kerry lowered his window, and we immediately yelled, "TV's Frank!!!"  (In retrospect, Kerry mentioned that it would probably have been better to call him by his actual name, but then we decided that he was probably used to being called his character's name, anyway.) 

He was really nice-- saying, "Hi, are you guys here for the show?  Well, thanks for coming!"  We exchanged pleasantries for several more seconds, but I don't remember any of it because my head was buzzing, "You're talking to TV's Frank, and he's acknowledging your existence!  YAY!"  Then we drove off before things got creepy.

Kerry and I were congratulating ourselves on our audacity, when we came upon a construction fence.  Obviously not the way to get to the building we needed.  The only way was to go back.  Past Frank Conniff.  Again.  Remember him?  The guy walking alone in an empty parking lot when he was accosted by two of his stalkers/fans in a car?  Yeah, that guy.

We also still did not know which building we were supposed to attend.  Kerry jokingly said, "Maybe we can ask him for directions."  But we laughed that off because we both knew that approaching him again on that lonely stretch of campus would be too stalkerific.  So I circled around and drove briskly past Mr. Conniff this time, attempting to give off the impression that I was too busy handling my business and ABSOLUTELY NOT FOLLOWING HIM.  We managed to find the correct building without resorting to misdemeanor harassment, and the rest of the evening went well.

After the shows, the artists (Narrators?  Comedians?  Connoisseurs of Bad Movies?) sat at a table for autograph signing.  And believe it or not, FRANK CONNIFF RECOGNIZED US FROM EARLIER!!!  How incredible is that?!  I tried to be all witty by saying that Kerry and I were going to offer him candy to get into our car, but we felt it was too soon in the relationship.

His response?  "Darn, and I was in the mood for candy!"

Best.  Night.  Ever.

Reading is Fundamental

I've got a pinch of free time today (here and there, you know how that is).  So I thought I would relate a funny thing that happened to me this morning.  And for the the purposes of this story, the names have been changed to protect the innocent
(read: my job).

I work for a Department, which is right down the hall from this Other Department that creates Stuff.  Earlier today, I got a call from a co-worker saying that he was here to pick up his Stuff, but couldn't get in because the door was locked and his badge would not work.  Right off I knew he was on the wall phone right outside of my Department's door.  For some reason the activities of my Department are so secret-ninja that we are located behind a security door.  The Other Department does not have a security door since people have to come and go to pick up their Stuff.

Anyway, he was confused, and so was I.  In order to call me, he had to have gotten my phone number off of the list next to the wall phone.  A list that has the title MY DEPARTMENT'S NAME in huge size-32 type font on the top-- as in THE DEPARTMENT THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE STUFF YOU CAME TO GET, SO CALLING THE PEOPLE LISTED BELOW IS COMPLETELY POINTLESS.  Therefore, I was confused as to why he would call me when it clearly states on the list that I am involved in non-Stuff related activities.  He was just plain confused.

So, despite me telling him that he was at the wrong Department door and offering to call someone from the Other Department to come and fetch him, he remained convinced that his Stuff was being held hostage behind this infuriatingly locked door.  He was eventually saved from his stupidity when someone in my department opened the door and kindly pointed him in the direction of the Other Department.  I'm surprised she didn't have to walk him the whole way while holding his hand and murmuring encouraging phrases to him.

That's the whole story, but just one more thing.  Check out the cartoon that I made for this post.  I'm really pleased at how it came out, for a basic stick-figure sketch.

Muppet Insults

I subscribe to the Youtube account of a family member-- a teenage girl. Not too long ago she uploaded a video she made with a few of her friends. I thought it was the essence of beauty and talent, but that's because I've known her since she was a tiny baby. So I can (barely) understand if outsiders don't exactly share my opinion.

But I was floored when I saw that someone had left an ugly comment. And no, no, no, I'm not a newbie. I've heard of trolls before. However, this didn't feel like a troll comment-- it wasn't by a kid, and there was no profanity or insults concerning anyone's physical appearance. It was just some grown-ass man (his profile states he's 24) telling a little girl that her video was "the biggest load of crap on Youtube." Like Youtube is some kind of PBS affiliate.

Anyway, my family member decided to take the high road. She responded that she respected (!) his opinion and that the video was only done in fun. Such a lovely and intelligent girl. She's gonna go far.

I, on the other hand, took the low road.

Now, I am no troll, either. My response was profanity-free. I did, however, insult his intelligence. But that's only because it's ridiculous for an adult to ask a young girl "what is the point" of her upload. (Oh, yes. He apparently requires identifiable and measurable substance in his Youtube videos.) I didn't call him stupid. I merely suggested that his brain may not have been working when he made his comment. I then politely suggested that he provide a link to this alleged high-quality Youtube material. Of course I slathered on the sarcasm with a trowel.

And, believe it or not, the guy apologized. I can't take the credit, though. He admitted that since my family member's response was so nice, he felt his original comment was a little unfair (...and the award for Understatement of the Day goes to...).

But, wait: with his large helping of I'm Sorry, he included a side order of Sarcasm just for me. He called me witty and brilliant (somehow I don't think he was sincere). And then he called me... a muppet. This is not a typo. He actually called me a muppet. I'm... at a loss. Is this an insult? Is being associated with a felt doll created by the Jim Henson company a slam against my character? There must be more to this. Off to Google!

According to Wiktionary, it is UK slang for someone who is incompetent and foolish. Urban Dictionary goes on describe it as someone who has no idea about anything, and associates it with other UK insults like tosser and wanker.

So, OK, he has insulted me. That makes me feel... um... hold on... Nope, nothing. I just can't wrap my head around this. I'd sooner associate the word "muppet" with a term of endearment than some flame-worthy insult. Also, if I have to Google your insult, then it's not very effective.

I don't intend to reply to the guy's latest comment. For one thing, I kinda expected it. If I'm going to dish it out, I should be ready to take it. And another thing, he eventually did the right thing: he acknowledged the bone-headedness of his first comment. Plus, I've learned something: I don't need to butt into my family member's business. She apparently can handle herself. Our female family member is growing so fast!

In My Next Life, I'm Coming Back as a House Cat

It's a Friday morning, and I'm lying around bloated and in pain (don't ask!). To take my mind off my super-fun situation, I decide to observe our cat, Pepper, just to see how she fills her day. This observation takes place over the span on only two and a half hours, but man does she have a full schedule! See for yourself:

Nap
Stare at me (Interpretation: Why the hell are you home?)
Nap
Look out the window
Look out the other window
Quick jog across the living room
Eat
Surprise inspection of the front hallway
Back at the window, murmuring threats at the squirrels outside
Clean
Stare at me (Interpretation: What the hell are you writing?)
Clean some more
Stare at things I can't see
Nap
Stare at more invisible stuff (Seriously, why do cats do that?)
Nap to end all naps
Watch a little more Outside TV
Nap-lite
Roll around favorite spot on the carpet
In-depth analysis and assessment of my actions (IE, sit in the middle of my notepad)
Quiet contemplation in dark space between two boxes
Back for an intense inspection of my pen
Official tour of the front half of the living room
Vanish into thin air

... And she's gone! Just like that. To goodness knows what dark and secret recess within the house. Oh well. Watching Pepper for just this short amount of time has made me antsy to fill my own day. Maybe I'll roll my bloated self over to the window and cuss out a few squirrels, too.

Say That Again?!

Someone just called looking for a person whose name she pronounced as Ah-REE-Kah. I know there are some funny names out there, but this was a first for me. I asked the lady to spell the name. This is what she spelled:

E-r-i-c-a

Here it is the 21st century, and this lady has never seen the name Erica before? Never had a friend named Erica? A classmate? An acquaintance? Ever?

I wonder what color is the sky on her planet.

Secret Agent Homeless Man

Last Saturday, as I was driving down 95th Street, I passed the boarded-up Dunkin Donuts near Ashland Avenue. (Actually, it's closer to Bishop Ave, but who's heard of Bishop?) It always surprises me to see it-- I have never seen a DD go out of business here in Chicago. I guess there are a number of reasons why this store went belly up. I know of one in particular that convinced me to take my business elsewhere.

The thing that I loved about this Dunkin Donuts is that it had a drive-through window. I could get my Dunkaccino fix without ever leaving the car.

I was doing just that one late evening several years ago. As I sat at the pay window waiting impatiently for my super-sized cup of sugar and caffeine, a homeless guy walked up to my driver side door, asking for spare change. I told him I didn't have any change, which was true. The only money I had on me was the $20 I just got out of the ATM. (No, I didn't tell him that part! Give me some credit!)

But then he just stood there. Suddenly, it occurred to me that it occurred to him that I would certainly have some change once I paid for my items. How nervy!

It's at this point that the cashier returned to the window for my payment. I looked at her, went "Uh...," then looked back at the homeless guy. That was my eloquent way of saying that I had no intention of flashing my cash to an audience. The cashier immediately leaned out of the window and said something like, "Is that homeless man back?"

And here's where it got surreal. Like some kind of homeless spy, he pressed himself flat against the brick wall of Dunkin Donuts, where the cashier couldn't see past the window's ledge. Then he placed a finger to his lips in a "Shh" manner for me to keep his location a secret.

Wait. How the heck did we become partners in this endeavor? Apparently, in Secret Agent Homeless Man's mind, I should join him in his fight against the tyranny of the Dunkin Donut cashier for the freedom of hassling her customers for money.

Well, no. Absolutely not. In this case, I am a big fan of tyranny. I can't get enough of Dunkin Donuts' iron-fisted authority. So, I immediately busted the guy out, and he went scampering into the night.

Needless to say, that was my LAST visit to that DD. And judging from the cashier's comments, SAHM was a regular visitor. Consequently, I'm pretty sure they lost a lot of customers that way.

New and Improved!

So, when I first created this blog, I was really new to the whole blog-making concept. And let me tell you, I was overwhelmed. So many templates and designs and backgrounds and fonts and widgets and... Whew!

Needless to say, the look of my blog was a little claustrophobic. But my half-baked design took sooo long (three agonizing days!), that I said Screw It, Good Enough! Also, at the time, I had an older version of IE, which made working the Template Designer feel like I was using an Excel spreadsheet on a calculator watch. It was frustrating, is what I am saying.

Fast forward to today. I've got a more compatible version of IE, and some spare time. I had only planned to just play around with the Template Designer, but I stumbled upon a design I really love. It's certainly not original (it's one of the standard templates without any tweaks from me), but it's a breath of fresh air compared to what I had.

One more thing I found: I was able to change my settings so anybody can comment on my blog. I have gotten a lot of flack about that in the past. And I thought I couldn't change that. Looks like I can. Imagine that. Of course, this opens me up to possible abuse from trolls, but I'll burn that bridge when I get to it.

So, feast your eyes on the beauty that is my revamped blog. You're welcome (smiley face).

High in Fiber

I can walk and chew gum. I can also pat my head and rub my tummy at the same time. (I AM multi-talented!) But apparently I cannot handle food and drive a car simultaneously. I've proved that with my misadventure at a Wendy's drive-through. Here is another example of my need to keep both hands at the 10 and 2 positions.

So, I'm driving home from work one evening, and I'm completely starving. Luckily, I still have two plums left over from lunch in my bag. While navigating the heavy rush-hour traffic on Canal Street, I manage to unzip my lunch bag and dig out one of the plums.

And man was that thing delicious! It was also gone in about four bites, which was a complete tease! But that's why I packed a second plum-- to keep the deliciousness going!

Determined to make the second plum last longer, I take smaller bites. I'm about three bites in when I come across the sticker. Dang! I'll need two hands to remove it, and downtown Chicago traffic is not the place to try out my no-handed driving skills. I am forced to wait until I reach a traffic light before I can continue eating my awesomely tasty plum.

Hey, wait a minute...

I didn't have a sticker issue with plum #1. Huh. Maybe the plum didn't have a sticker.

Oh, who am I kidding? Every plum that I packed in my lunch this week had a sticker on it. And I was too busy shoving plum #1 into my pie-hole to really look at it.

Let's face it: I ate that sticker.

Oh well, that sticker was delicious.

***********************************************

Financial Advice FROM Dummies

Sadly, I know very little about finance, investments and/or the stock market. And I'm the first to admit that I could benefit from sound financial advice. However, it doesn't take a genius to tell the difference between good advice and the warped (read: illegal) recommendations from the functionally insane.

My former coworker, Brian, passed a gem onto me that I thought I would share. You may remember Brian as the guy who thought it was perfectly legal to sell photocopies of textbooks to the students of the local college where we both once worked (using the college's copy machine, no less!). I guess you can best describe him as a dangerous combination of drive and ineptness.

Anyway, Brian and I were sitting around one slow afternoon talking about... um... Shoot, I can't remember! But it was definitely about something I couldn't afford, because that's why Brian advised me on a "good way" to get some fast cash. And not just any advice, but something that he's road-tested himself!

The Advice:

• Write a check to yourself from your own checkbook. (Is your checking account at a zero balance? That's cool. Write that bad boy anyway!)


• Deposit the check back into the same account via your bank's ATM machine. (Fortunately, an ATM can't tell the difference between a real deposit and this rubber-tastic one.)


• Use the same ATM to withdraw a portion of the funds. (Of course, this was back during the halcyon days when ATMs let you withdraw money from current deposits. Why can't you do that anymore? This is why.)


• Congratulations, you are now flush with funds! Spend it as wisely as you obtained it!

Wow. Just wow. I mean, I'm not a criminal mastermind, but with Google's help, I do know that most check kiting scams involve two or more banks-- so that there's a delay before the scammers are found out. But if you perpetrate fraud on only one bank, then it will take them less than a day to discover that you are a scheming moron.

When asked, Brian told me that the bank refrained from pressing criminal charges (maybe because the damages were less than $1000), but his account was immediately closed (surprise!), and since then he had been unable to open a new checking account anywhere else.

The kicker is that he was recommending this plan to me. He still thought this was a good idea in case of an emergency. I can't imagine what that emergency could be. Maybe I'm in desperate need of the free room and board offered by Cook County Jail, but I'm too squeamish to assault somebody?

You know, I haven't seen Brian in several years. Maybe he had one "good" idea too many.

*************************************************

The Mens Room: An Adventure in Stupidity

First, let's start off with a brief introduction. Hi, my name is Diana, and I am a girl. Okay, now that we have that established, let me tell you about my first (and absolutely, positively LAST) visit to a Mens Room.

At this particular temp position, my desk was almost directly across from the Mens Room, with the Ladies Room waaaaay on the other side of the floor.

So, it's the end of the day, and I'm gathering my stuff to leave when I figure it's a good idea to make a quick pit stop. I look at my watch-- I've got about 10 minutes until my shuttle leaves. By the time I make the monumental trek to the restroom and back to the elevators, there's a good chance I may miss my bus, and then I'd have to wait a whole 15 minutes at the job for the next one. UNACCEPTABLE. All the while, I keep eyeing that Mens Room door across the aisle from me. Man, wouldn't it be convenient if that was the Ladies Room?!

Hmm... Well, this is the end of the day, and it is a Friday. Practically everyone has long gone. As a matter of fact, it's been at least 15-20 minutes since anyone has walked past my desk (which is on the way out). I could just zip in, take care of a little quick business, and zip right back out without anyone being the wiser. Piece of cake!

Phase One of my plan (Zip In!) is executed without a hitch. However, I've almost completed Phase Two (Taking Care of Business!) when my plan goes right into the crapper-- pun intended. I hear the door open and someone walks in. I'm almost 99% sure it's a guy (it being the Mens Room, and all). This jumps to 100% when I hear him walk up to and use the urinal. Fortunately, there's a wall that separates the stalls from the urinals, so I can't see his legs, and more importantly, he can't see mine! I hold my breath the entire time the guy is in there, and I breathe a sigh of relief when he finally exits.

Whew! Okay. I can't get too relaxed because I still have one more phase to my Once-a-Piece-of-Cake-but-Now-a-Piece-of-Something-Else-Entirely Plan. In other words, I still need to Zip Out! This, however, has now become the most difficult part of the plan. I don't want to leave too soon and run into the guy that just left. And I don't want to wait too long and run the risk of bumping into another male patron with a full bladder.

I dither for an eternity (probably a minute), and then rush out. (And no I don't stop to wash my hands. That got sacrificed for the greater good. Besides, that's why they invented hand sanitizer!) When I get back to my desk, I look around. No one has seen me. Hurray! Phase Three was a success. And I still managed to get out in time to catch my shuttle!

So, did the ends justify the means? No, no and NO! I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever visit a Mens Room again. Ever.

************************************************************

There's a dress shop out there that's about to be pissed off tomorrow!

Just overheard someone calling her bank to put a Stop on a check she just wrote. Apparently, she just purchased a "very expensive" dress, and then promptly left it in a cab. Her solution to her predicament, and I repeat, is to STOP PAYMENT ON THE DRESS.

Here's my question: Did she write the check to the cab driver?

Here's my next question: Did the dress shop force her to leave the dress in the cab?

Looks like the dress shop is going to pay for her stupidity.

I hope they have a good lawyer.

************************************************