Where There's Smoke...

When I first saw the post on the Official Def Leppard Forum by Dr. Rock suggesting this game of 'Pass the Torch,' I was very skeptical. I didn't think it would fly. We're not a cohesive group of bloggers, and I expected it would take far more interaction between bloggers than I'd witnessed thus far.

I also thought that if someone did start it, it would die off quickly (due either to lack of participants or to someone being 'targeted' who didn't feel like playing and wouldn't answer). Enter Mark Senff, who had a few friends he knew would answer, and started the ball a-rolling. I still wondered if it would peter out after his closest buds responded. (By the way, he did a neat little side-step in posting the first set of questions... did he think he'd fly under the torchy radar this way and avoid getting put on the spot himself? Nuh-uh! Somebody needs to send the flame his way... )

I guess I underestimated our fine bunch, as it's been going strong for the better part of a month now. And despite my efforts to slink off to a corner to hide, crossing every finger and toe in the hopes of avoiding being the next target, the torch was passed to me.

Know what? I actually enjoyed this! (didn't think I would...) So, as a thank-you to Dr. Rock for suggesting this game, I would like to pass the torture, er, I mean, torch to him next. I don't think he reads here, but I'll send him an email to let him know he's the next one being set afire.

My questions to Dr. Rock:

1. What is your dream job? Doesn't matter if it's something within your current abilities or not; what would you really love to be doing and making a living doing it?

2. In your opinion, what is the absolute worst song ever recorded, and why do you consider it to be so awful?

3. Tell us about something that made you laugh so hard and long that your cheeks ached from smiling and you thought you'd never catch your breath.

I'm looking forward to your answers, Doc!
- posted by Stephanie @ 5:07 AM

 
Torched, Part Two

'Kay, here's my long-winded answer to the third and final question...

3. If you had a chance to play an ultimate joke on a person and what would it be and why?

I’m not good with practical jokes. I can’t pull them off. You’d think after almost forty years on this earth, I’d be able to manage this. But I can’t.

See, I’m a rotten liar. Not that I have no imagination or can’t come up with one. Nope, that I can do. But I give myself away every time. I smile, I twitter or outright laugh, my body acts all nervous... it’s a wonder I’m not twisting my leg and digging my toe into the ground like a little girl who’s hoping to get away with something.

I can’t even plan a surprise party. Gave that away, too.

But beyond that I’d suck at successfully pulling off a practical joke, I’m really not one who enjoys them anyway; if they get someone thrilled and excited and then I have to ‘fess up and ‘say it ain’t so,’ I’d feel cruel. On the flip side (but feeling it’s in the same vein of meanness), I couldn’t give someone false bad news, either. Not if I liked the person, anyway.

But...

Pranks are a whole ‘nother ballgame. Those are fun.

The biggest one I can think of (at the moment) is one I started but after the first part of the plan caved in, so did my courage to try to finish it.

I guess a bit of preface would help.

When Def Leppard played in Phoenix, Arizona in December 2002, I was working on an article for a trade publication about different film types and ISOs and what they were best suited for. (The article never got published, by the way. Kodak went and discontinued one of the brand names, retooled it and reissued it under the name of High Definition. They also stopped production of the ISO 1000 completely - one of the key films I was playing around with.) Anyway...

I requested a photopass from the publicity department at the record company (didn’t need any comp tickets; I’d bought them the day they went on sale for the show, as a gift to myself - the Phoenix show was two days after my birthday) and it was granted. (Picture me with nonstop grin for days prior to show here.) Things went almost smoothly... my name wasn’t on the pass list (since I wasn’t getting tickets, just the satin pass to enter the photopit) but after I explained who I spoke to and the information was relayed to Malvin via the in-house security manager, it all worked out and man! did I get some great shots and one of my most treasured memories (not the first time I’d shot a concert, but this one was special. At the foot of the stage in front of the band I’d been listening to and loving since I was fifteen...)

Fast-forward to the show oh-so-much closer to home: Albuquerque, New Mexico, June 2003. I was trying to rework the article with the rebranded Kodak film, had a website (Glam-Metal.com) interested in publishing the best of the shots, and Mike Reinemann, the webmaster of the Def Leppard Satellite of Love, had said more shots of mine would be welcome (he’d already posted some of the Phoenix concert pictures).

Again I requested access to the photopit, listing where the photos were to be published, and again it was given. This time, I’d saved the voicemail on my cellphone, just in case...

I’ve already mentioned my penchant for ‘attitude’ tees. And I planned on dressing in layers.

Top tee: Stop Reading My Shirt. That one was for the photopit. I learned in Phoenix that Joe Elliott tends to ignore the photographers in the pit, but the rest of the band don’t. Phil glanced down often and smiled, posing several times directly in front of me so I could get an unobstructed shot. Sav played his way over to that side of the stage as well, stopping between the two monitors where I’d planted myself and stayed still enough for me to focus and fire.

So I thought the shirt might bring a laugh or two. Under that one was the shirt I’d planned to wear for most of the show, just a plain ol’ Slang tour tee. Might get seen, might not, I didn’t really care... our seats were only four rows out, but I’m kinda short. That one was purely for my own enjoyment, anyway.

The bottom shirt was the kicker.

I knew from experience that the security staff at the Journal Pavilion would allow people into the aisles for photos (they’re really strict on keeping people in their ticketed seats) and if you’re wearing a satin, they’re a little more easygoing and even get people to step out of the way of the lens. I had plans for the last song in the standard set, and intended to be in the aisle to pull it off.

Ever mindful of Joe’s constant scanning and interaction with the audience, and unable to forget when he forgot the lyrics to a particular song during their VH1 Storytellers episode, I decided to help him out by way of a new white T-shirt and a big black Sharpie.

(Just a reminder...), I wrote.

Then proceeded to write, in big block letters, the opening verse of Rock of Ages.

This was the third, and last, T-shirt I was wearing.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be. A certain tour manager forgot to check his emails and, as the saying goes, even the best laid plans will come unglued.

Photopasses are generally granted only days in advance, and this was no exception. The show was on a Sunday, and the go-ahead was given on the preceding Friday. As usual, I arrived nearly three hours before the show, giving time enough for any glitches to be ironed out (things only go perfectly about fifty percent of the time). Still wasn’t enough time. I wasn’t on the pass list. No biggie, I thought. I have the voicemail, if things get that difficult, and surely, Malvin knows Christina’s (the assistant publicist who deals with the press) voice, should it come down to needing absolute proof.

Enter the venue’s publicist, who did everything she could to try to smooth things out. But instead of getting the pass, I got more tickets. I didn’t need tickets. I never request permission to get in free to take pictures if I intend to stay for the entire show. If I’m out in three (the standard window of photo-ops, first three songs) and head home, I’ll gladly accept the comps. But not if I plan to stick around ‘til the end. That just strikes me as unethical. Anyhoo...

They wouldn’t take the tickets back at the ticket desk. They told me to take them down to the security area and then I’d get the satin for the pit. Unusual, but not unheard of. So off I trundle to the bottom of the amphitheatre bowl. They send me back up to the ticketing area. The venue security manager gets involved (imagine, little ol’ me a security threat... ) and radios Malvin Mortimer. Malvin knows nothing about me, of course. He wants some sort of proof. I offer the guy my cell phone and tell him to hold it up to the radio, or better, to take it down to Malvin to listen to Christina himself. He refuses. All the while, I’m still insisting that they take back the free tickets, as the ones I’d bought in April were much better seats, and I didn’t need them. He ignores what I’m saying. (Christina later confirms that listening to her voicemail would have cleared the whole thing up immediately, as Malvin does indeed know her voice well.) It’s now a mere hour before the show, and I know that there’s little time left to be bothering the tour manager. He’s got sooo much still to do, and I don't want to be a nuisance (but I did make some promises of my own, and I'd like to honor them). I request one last time that he listen to the voice message and he disappears. I’m thinking it’s to talk to Malvin.

Meanwhile, our friends arrive and I offer them the Row Sixteen seats I was given, since nobody wants them back and their seats were in the second level, about thirty rows out. Of course, they take them.

Security manager comes back. He says that if I give him back the comped tickets, to prove my honesty, then he’ll give me the photopass.

I no longer have them. Uh-oh...

I explain that since nobody wanted them back, I gave them to friends to upgrade their seats. I do, however, have their original tickets and he’s welcome to those. For some reason( =P ), this makes the guy just blow a cork. (I was under the impression that nobody wanted them back... I’ll go and get them back and have my friends move back to the seats they purchased, I tell him. His face got even redder and he called me a liar, saying that I was only there for free tickets. I held my temper well, I think. I don’t normally allow anyone to insult my integrity without getting an earful that would embarrass the most foul-mouthed sailor.)

My mistake was in assuming that, being an honest person, I would be taken as one and not immediately placed under suspicion. Lesson learned here. Big time.

So, no photo pass for me.

Kinda wrecked my plan and destroyed my courage to stand up in the aisle to ‘help’ Joe remember the lyrics.

Still have the T-shirt, though. It’s just waiting for its next opportunity... and there will be a next time.


Questions for the next intended target tomorrow. I'm too tired to see who hasn't gotten 'hit' yet...
- posted by Stephanie @ 10:45 PM

 
Scorched, Part One

I tried to nonchalantly melt into the shadows in a corner, but it didn’t help. I’ve been torched.

My questions from Stacy via SouthernBelle, and my answers:

1. What’s the oddest thing you’ve ever worn?

I thought hard about this one, and it’s impossible to come up with just one. I’m hopelessly deadlocked.

First, there’s the Halloween that my costume was quite simple (had to be, I wore it to an office). I wore one aqua contact lens and one green one. I wondered if anyone would notice, as my eyes change from flat gray to bluegreen and a whole spectrum of blue in-between, depending on my mood and whether or not I’m really tired.

Lots of people scrutinized my face or looked at me strangely, trying to figure out what was different. Eventually, they all nailed it. Some even thought they were being helpful by quietly pointing out that I was wearing two different color lenses. My response was the same to all of them: Since we were allowed to dress up for Halloween as long as it wasn’t too flashy or blatant, I came as David Bowie.

The second one needs a little background information. We’ve done a full production for Halloween for years, haunting our house and yard and dressing ourselves up for the night. Friends come by to help, and we give the kids in the neighborhood a full tour and scare. One year I went to work in full Halloween regalia. Latex scars, a fake bullet wound to the head, lots of homemade stage blood (corn syrup and red food coloring paste with just a drop or two of water -- dries drippy-looking and shiny and oh-so-gross. It’s wonderful stuff!), deep black undead circles around my eyes, and a black flowing robe (my college graduation gown, actually). It was a blast. ‘Til the next day when I discovered that I hadn’t used enough spirit gum on the wound appliances to shield my skin from the latex (I’m quite allergic to latex) and I had rashes all over my face and arms that didn’t clear up for a month.

Finally, and I wear these quite often: my ‘attitude’ T-shirts. There’s several hanging in the closet. Two of them garner double-takes and either hard stares or laughs, depending on the person who’s reading them. One proclaims “I am a virgin.” The back simply says “Liar.” The other is all black with rather small letters splashed across the front that state “My Inner Child Is A Mean Little Fucker.” Two of my favorite ways to shake up people’s worlds just for a moment (I’m not a big fan of ‘boring.’)

2. Have you ever had ‘Big Hair’?

Honey, my hair is so fine that I’m lucky to ever have ‘medium hair.’ Big Hair is totally out of the realm of possibility for this head.

3. If you had a chance to play an ultimate joke on a person and what would it be and why?

A bit of unorthodoxy this go-round. This last one's taking longer than I planned to answer, and circumstances haven't left me enough of that to answer properly this morning. So tune in tomorrow for the whole answer (and maybe, if I can remember how to get into my Geocities webpage, some pics to go along with that "oddest bit of clothing" question).

And, of course, my questions to someone else (haven't decided on the next target for the torch yet... any volunteers?)

- posted by Stephanie @ 5:21 AM

 
Can I Get One of These in Red?

I think I've picked out my next car. I want a mini-Cooper like this guy's got. Should keep me from ever being late to work again. I wonder if it's got five-speed overdrive...?
- posted by Stephanie @ 5:00 AM

 
Feeling Random

No, I do not talk to myself... I'm simply out of Post-its and you're eavesdropping.

Why is it that I can remember my California driver's license number (which I haven't had for eight and a half years) but I can't remember the one I've had in New Mexico for those same nearly nine years?

Still trying to come to grips with this one: A woman's film was damaged by X-ray, and I made note of it on her package. When she purchased them, she saw the message on the top of the envelope and said (in the same tone of voice she might use to speak of photos of her housecat), "But how can it have been X-rayed? I haven't been anywhere! These are pictures of Florida!"

Last time I checked, ma'am, we're all standing on a piece of land that's about half an hour south of Santa Fe...

And I forgot to mention this earlier... Not that I think anybody really gives a hoot, but since I groused about it in not one but two previous posts (and since I do so hate to leave loose ends)...

The First Communion photos I stressed about have been picked up. She liked the blurry ones the best. Now, call me picky, but when I take pictures, I have this 'thing' about recognizing the people in them. I don't just want to know that there are humans in there somewhere, and that those pinkish blobs above the vaguely body-shaped colorful stuff that I'm assuming are their clothes are probably their faces.

And speaking of pictures, one of these days I'm gonna take the time to read the FAQs and figure out how to put some pictures on here. This blog is too blah.
- posted by Stephanie @ 9:18 PM

 
So I'm An Oddball

I really tried to find a great odd news story to post here. Something silly that’d make you shake your head and wonder what gets into people. But I couldn’t find any. It’s not that stupid people and dumb criminals aren’t out there (you can bet your last popsicle on that). They just haven’t been up to their usual tricks recently, I guess.

So instead, I’ll just spill what’s been on my mind these last seven days or so.

Ed’s cast came off almost two weeks ago and, while he’s got some work ahead to restore his arm to its former strength, his flexibility and mobility seem to be back to what they were before the injury and surgery.

Hurray for that.

He’s also back to working his old schedule. Four nights and one (sometimes two) days a week. While the cast was on, he was restricted to ‘light duty,’ which included keeping away from the crowded club and all its jostling partiers.

For six weeks he worked during daylight hours, fixing stuff and filling out various reports.

His boss was eager to have him back there at night, and Ed missed the club staff and being the ‘entertainment facilitator’ four nights a week.

I reveled in having him home when I was.

Am I strange for still being head-over-heels for the guy after being married for sixteen years?

I watch so many coworkers’ and friends’ relationships dwindle and die. Or fracture, leaving them shredded and aching.

I feel like a throwback. An aberration. A dinosaur.

Even after all our stumbling blocks and disagreements, I still need the man like air. And I don't care if that makes me weird.
- posted by Stephanie @ 10:22 PM

 
Useful Words That Don't Exist

velociday: a day that has you wishing you’d never gotten out of bed. Starts out like a snowball tumbling down a steep hill and eventually buries you in the avalanche. Days like these are known to spawn the frightful...

sarcastibitch: Oh, gimme a break... or maybe you are dumber than a loaf of bread...

acrimonotonous: describes a person who not only never has a good thing to say but also is vociferously hell-bent on repeating the same old whiney complaints. Dealing with such people tends to make one...

flusterated: Spending too much time with children or morons can also induce such a state. Symptoms include blathering, stammering, and a furrowed brow over glassy unfocused eyes. Immediate relief could be found by talking to normal adults, but they tend to stay away because you’re surrounded by children and morons.

lashbiters: sunglasses made for heads smaller than yours. Do not buy them, no matter how cool they look. One sneeze and your eyeballs are cemented to the inside of the lenses.

eyemoeba: elusive goobers that float across your field of vision. Trying to catch them is useless. They swim too fast.

ocusnot: a bunch of eyemoebas throwing a wild bachelor party. Like to form a conga line across half your pupil while you’re driving.

imagitant: invisible irritants in shoes, shirt necklines, remains of cutoff clothing tags and brassieres. Additionally located but never actually found in the eyes (not to be confused with eyemoebas, which thrive on annoying sans pain).

imagitation: the vexing sensation caused by imagitants. Rubbing and scratching only increase the imagitation, and often the feeling lingers after removing the offending item of clothing. Cannot be relieved by anything, including hand lotion, lipstick, lip balm, spit, a dab of half-n-half from the coffee room while nobody’s looking, that tube of something in the back of the drawer with the label completely rubbed off, or solvents meant for removing stray pen marks from your keyboard.
- posted by Stephanie @ 10:44 PM

 
One ringy-dingy... Two ringy-dingys...

Actual phone call recieved at work:

Me: Thank you for calling (my store)* in Enchanted Hills. This is Stephanie. How may I help you?

Caller: Is this the one at the corner of Enchanted Hills Boulevard?

Me: Yes, sir.

Caller: You're the one right in front of Raley's?

Me: Yes, sir.

Caller: The store that's just down the street from the Hyatt Tamaya Resort?

Me: That's us, sir.

Caller: Are you sure?

Me: Positive.

(No, actually, I'm not sure. I have no clue where I am. It's a wonder I make it to work every day...)

Caller: Uh-huh. Okay.

He then hung up.

Still can't decide if he was being intentionally weird or was experiencing sun-spots in his brain.

*better not say, just in case somebody gets irked
- posted by Stephanie @ 9:59 PM

 
Ahhh...

Not much going on this weekend. Nothing funny or funky to talk about. But I did manage to get 'the song which shall not be named' (for fear of it making a return engagement) out of my head.

I left the Cybernauts' version of Panic in Detroit on 'repeat.' All the way to work, and for about an hour after I got there. That guitar work can pretty much wipe out anything.
- posted by Stephanie @ 7:18 PM

 
HELP!!!!

Ebony and Ivory has been whining its way through my brain since last night and nothing I've done or listened to can dislodge it.

Wish I knew why... I haven't even heard this song in ages (well, not outside of my head, anyway).

Ack.
- posted by Stephanie @ 6:27 AM

 
Yesterday Revisited

No, today wasn't anything like yesterday (thank God). I only had to wrestle prints from five rolls of film that got jammed, exposed and only half-processed due to someone (nobody'll fess up who it was) loading one roll into the processor incorrectly and it stopped up the works. They only turned out as... weird... as film that's been packed in belly-of-the-airplane luggage and X-rayed with a jillion rads. And I deal with those just about every day.

I reread what I'd posted and realized that it sounded as off-kilter as I felt yesterday. So it seemed fitting to elaborate a bit.

Started the day by hitting the snoozebar twice. Not quite oversleeping, but not really giving myself the time I'm used to having in the morning. Oh, well, just have to make regular coffee instead of babysitting the cappucino machine, and maybe skip the usual third mugful, too. Not a biggie.

Raining outside. Chilly in the little sunroom sanctuary where I keep the computer and suck down the morning caffeine load while I read people's blogs, other interesting stuff, and the newspaper we subscribe to online. So I turned on the portable radiator we keep out here to take the edge off.

Now, for some odd reason, the outlets in the sunroom are on the same GFI and circuit as the bathrooms, and running a blowdrier and the radiator at the same time trips off the circuit. I forgot to turn off the radiator when I dried my hair. Trudge out to the even chillier garage with a flashlight (garage overhead light and opener are, inexplicably, on the same circuit, too, but nothing else out there is) to flip the breaker back on. Reset the garage door opener while I'm out there freezing my hiney off.

Time to wake up Mason, our twelve-year-old. He's solidly out. Takes twenty minutes and pulling the covers off and turning on all the lights to get him up. More time gone that I didn't really have to begin with. Yup, definitely not having that third mug of coffee. He's got no time for breakfast now and he's cranky as hell. His homework, a field-trip permission slip, and the school's annual How Are We Doing survey is on the kitchen table, just waiting to be forgotten. I stuff them into the binder in his backpack as he dresses, calling out to him where to find them.

Don't even get to finish monster mugful number two. It's cold and disgusting now.

We leave five minutes late, and it takes what feels like forever to get to school. People here freak out when it rains and forget how to drive. Really. They go ten miles under the speed limit, doze through the first half of a green light, ignore turn arrows... you get the idea.

I work five minutes from his middle school (that's why he doesn't have to ride the bus. That and the fact that, if he did, he'd have to leave ten minutes earlier than I leave, and it's already an ordeal getting him out the door). Ultimately arrive at work twelve minutes late.

Customers want weird things that take me off autopilot all morning... slides put onto CDs, only select prints from three different camera memory cards, cropping requests for enlargements, etcetera. An hour after I get to work and I'm already swamped. And, lo and behold, here comes the district audit team for their quarterly audit, checking files and making sure the entire store is doing all the paperwork and filing it correctly. Endless questions of 'where is this' and 'why did you do that' interrupting conversations with customers about how they want their orders done. Oh, and let's not forget the family of six who come in at 9:30, all needing me to photograph them for their passports.

Somehow, in-between all of this, I manage to take a few telephone calls. One is from hubby Ed, informing me that Mason called home because he can't find his homework, his permission slip and his school district survey. Ed's practically ransacked Mason's room to find them and turns up nothing. I tell him that they're in his binder and I'll go to the school on my break to leave him a note. Meanwhile, I get a little Post-it slipped to me that says Mason called and he sounded worried.

Ugh.

Ten o'clock and instead of fifteen minutes of blasting the stereo in my car and getting away from the world, I'm in my car, driving to the middle school. They page Mason to the office and I pull his needed papers from his binder. He's happy now and I'm beginning to fray. And it's only ten-fifteen.

I already planned to go down to the cable company at lunch to get our dirty little check back, even though they maintained that it's not negotiable with the way it's written out. I don't trust them to not try it anyway, and I sure as hell don't want to pay for a stop-payment order just in case they do try. Oh, and have to drop off some drycleaning while I'm out, too, 'cause we need it back before the weekend. Got chastised by the cable company office manager when I arrived, and warned to not attempt to illegally hook ourselves back up. The flying right eyebrow cocked itself despite my best efforts to stop it, and I told him to shove his warnings up his descrambler. Called the satellite company on the way back to work and rescheduled our installation for Monday. That's one bright spot today, at least. Wound up taking a thirty-five minute lunch instead of thirty. Ah, well, at least that stuff is done...

From there, the afternoon began to splinter, went straight into unhinged, and then things really began to fall apart. I won't bore you with the details (and I really don't want to relive it all, either). Just hook me up with a caffeine IV and pass the Motrin, 'kay?
- posted by Stephanie @ 11:11 PM

 
Is It Over Yet?

Ever have one of those days when you feel like the sand in an hourglass, all scattered and leaving pieces of yourself up, down and everywhere to eventually catch up and coalesce back into your wholeness when the day runs out and the sand is all together on the same side again?

Not me. I didn't. Not today. Or at least, I don't think so. Then again, thinking back, I can't recall much of today at all. Maybe when my brain wedges itself through the narrow little dip between the two chambers of glass, I'll be able to figure it out.

God, I hope nobody flips over the eggtimer that was my day today and starts it all over again. If I get any more fragmented, I'm gonna be transparent.
- posted by Stephanie @ 10:50 PM

 
Anticipation

The Kodak lab's redone photos for the previously mentioned (editing myself here) customer came in today.

They are awful.

They toned down the graininess, all right. By making the photos blurrier. (That's one way to do it, unsharpen the photo and the grain loses its precise outlines, too.) I tried that on one go-round, but at just one step of blur, they looked like they'd been shot with a lens covered in Vaseline with a gauze filter over it.

You can't make out a single face unless it's a close-up. Imagine being under water and looking up at someone leaning over the surface and you'll have the general feel for how these look.

What we did made the shadowy backgrounds a touch grainy, but at least the figures in them were more than vaguely humanoid. I could actually make out who was in the photos taken from across the church.

I haven't been able to reach her yet to tell her that the outlab prints are back. I can't wait to see what her reaction will be...



And now for bit of advice: if you cuss at your cable company via inserting a choice word in the middle of their name on the "To" line on a check, they'll turn you off (wasn't me, hubby wrote that check. I only call the power company bad names, but they don't seem to care. They just cash the checks anyway).

It was our final bill, 'cause we were getting satellite installed at the end of the month. I'm gonna see if they'll install it sooner. If not, our reception is one half-decent channel and two horribly snowy ones 'til nearly May.
- posted by Stephanie @ 9:40 PM

 
Yet Another Photo Expert

UGH!

Most of the time, I don't let argumentative customers get to me. Even ones who personally insult me (it's happened a few times).

But today... grrrrowl.

She was understandably upset that the photos of her son's First Communion were pretty awful. I would be, too, if I took pictures at a not-to-be-repeated event and they wound up being sucky.

One of the night techs did the original processing, and he's learned some of the tricks to wrestle images from bad shots. He did a damn good job, actually, considering how awful the negs looked. The customer decided that they could still be better and wanted them redone.

I know a bunch of little things to do to get the most from a poor negative. So I spent a couple of hours yesterday tweaking, punching up color, playing with contrast and sharpness, and comparing different results for the best print from what we had to work with. I pride myself on doing the highest quality work, but I'm no magician. I can't print what isn't on the negative to begin with.

She's still angry, but this time she's decided, in her vast photographic knowledge, that they are grainy and dark because it's on Fuji paper instead of Kodak. And because we 'obviously don't know what we're doing.'

Yeah, sure. It has nothing to do with using just about the cheapest throwaway camera we sell (lenses really do play a big part, even in the disposables) and that she was trying to take pictures in a dimly-lit church from approximately thirty feet away. No amount of coaxing and wishing is going to get that flash to travel more than about sixteen feet before the fixed-speed shutter on that baby snaps shut again.

And all this headache from a woman who, from all appearances, can well-afford a 'real' camera.

If she absolutely had to use a throwaway, one that could have done a credible job would have cost her only four dollars more.

This has me almost as upset as the hissy-throwing person who just knew we'd done something to make her photos be so off-center because her camera has autofocus...
- posted by Stephanie @ 9:52 PM

 
Hmmm...

I'll be the first to admit that I'm one of the 'Johnny-come-latelys' to blogging. Hell, until December or so, I'd never even heard of the things, and I'm completely clueless as to how long they've been around. Coupla years, maybe?

In a comment about a comment in another blog, Rhonda Elizabeth brought up a good point, wondering how many will still be around a year from now.

My guess is about half of 'em. I don't know that I'll be doing this next April. Time always seems to slip away, leaving me wondering what I've really done with my day. And I might not have anything interesting left to say. Then again, I might.

I've always been good at amusing myself, but who knows how long it will take before my twisted perspective seems stale and trite to anybody else.

I could always resort to making funny faces...

- posted by Stephanie @ 12:04 AM

 
Better Than Static-guard

I mentioned in a previous ramble that I'm one of those folks who generates an unusual amount of static electricity. While some of that may be due to Albuquerque being so arid, I think mostly it's just me. But anyway...

When I got dressed yesterday, my clothes were fine. No sparks, no cling. By the end of the first hour at work, I was fighting with my shirt and my slacks had magically transformed into (rather unflattering) leggings.

My solution? Warm Diet Cherry Coke.

I am far from God's most graceful creature. I trip over amoebas.

While your imagination fills in the rest, I'll list a few other things I learned at work yesterday:

1. Doeskin-brown ultrasuede dries fast and doesn't seem to easily stain.
2. The same goes for fern-green rayon.
3. There's something in Diet Cherry Coke that defies absorption by ordinary paper towels.
4. Don't be fooled by 'sugar-free.' Nutrasweet will leave a sticky residue on tile.
5. The mop bucket in the back janitor's closet is filled with foamy gray pond water.
6. You'll never be able to convince me that my store's string mop wasn't once alive. Only dead things can ever smell that bad.


- posted by Stephanie @ 5:19 AM