<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969</id><updated>2011-09-03T09:45:08.454-05:00</updated><category term='coldstone'/><title type='text'>Weird Occurrence Magnet</title><subtitle type='html'>Weird occurrence magnet (n.): A person who experiences such a large number of unusual circumstance (such as nine flat tires in ten years or a centipede down the swimsuit) that his or her view of what is normal becomes skewed</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>38</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-7295232781020633852</id><published>2011-01-17T16:14:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-17T16:33:03.918-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I drove across Iowa this week. Twice.</title><content type='html'>Middle of January, time for Eric to go back to school. We left Saturday morning, picked up his friend in Sioux City, and the drive to Iowa City was largely uneventful. The strangest thing that happened was Eric managing to fog over the entire passenger window  so badly I couldn't see the side mirror. When the fog started creeping on to the windshield, I had to take away his heat for a little bit. He wasn't too happy, but he lived. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got Eric all dropped off and back on the road by about 5:30, texting my friend in Des Moines that I would be there by eight at the latest. Within  30 minutes, traffic on I80 was completely stopped. The weather was clear, so I had a wonderful view of how far back the traffic was stopped. Within 10 minutes, I couldn't see the end of the traffic. About 30 minutes after we first stopped, traffic began moving again. A few miles ahead of where I had been stopped, a semi was stopped in the left lane, which struck me as weird since blocking only one lane shouldn't completely stall traffic. No sooner had I turned on cruise control to set it then I had to stop again. After another five minutes, we moved forward a little, and I was by the flashing lights - two patrol cars and three or four fire trucks. I didn't see a wreck, so I think there was a fire near the interstate. I don't know for sure because Google News was no help. Once I was waved through, I took off to Des Moines, arriving right at eight, since I pad my arrival times due to stuff like this happening on the way back again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday, I took off on a morning cold enough that the windows weren't frosted and my iPod went nuts. Before getting to Omaha I saw the car in front of me get pulled over by an unmarked police car and a rest area sign telling me it was -196. My GPS also managed to add 30 minutes to my arrival time all the way to Yankton (apparently Volin is now 40 minutes outside of town). I then proceeded to sit on the couch and read an entire book for the rest of the day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-7295232781020633852?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/7295232781020633852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-drove-across-iowa-this-week-twice.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/7295232781020633852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/7295232781020633852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-drove-across-iowa-this-week-twice.html' title='I drove across Iowa this week. Twice.'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-6959059537142758295</id><published>2010-12-06T23:36:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-06T23:42:03.792-06:00</updated><title type='text'>In which I trouble shoot a printer in my pajamas</title><content type='html'>I was all ready for bed when I got a knock on my door. Dylan needed my printer, since his and the family's aren't working. Sadly, mine is out of ink. Since his mythology project is due tomorrow, I went in to his room to trouble shoot his printer. The internet was slow, so we spent most of the past 1.5 hours waiting for drivers to download.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ACTUAL CONVERSATION&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: That's my foot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dylan: What?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: You're standing on my foot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dylan (moves): You're foot shouldn't have been there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Do you really want to me to leave? Because I would rather be in bed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dylan: No.... want some gum?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I turned down the gum, installed drivers for two printers, tried to print some pages, failed, and am now going to bed while Dylan emails everything to himself to print at school.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Good night. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-6959059537142758295?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/6959059537142758295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/12/in-which-i-trouble-shoot-printer-in-my.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/6959059537142758295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/6959059537142758295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/12/in-which-i-trouble-shoot-printer-in-my.html' title='In which I trouble shoot a printer in my pajamas'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-7432093765560056067</id><published>2010-10-18T14:47:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-18T15:02:46.594-05:00</updated><title type='text'>FLASHBACK: Watch your step</title><content type='html'>Sidebar: I'm sorry I've been a bad blogger. Stuff has happened, like finishing grad school and moving home until I find employment. Sorry.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The last Sunday I was in Saint Louis I had errands to run. I needed face lotion, Mom wanted me to pick up a wedding present and some spices, Crystal and Amanda wanted some stuff from Trader Joe's, and the usual groceries needed to be purchased. I set the alarm, locked the front door, and was putting my glasses in my bag when I tripped, falling down the last four concrete steps on to the sidewalk.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Like any self-respecting person, I immediately looked around to determine if anyone saw me. Nope, I was all alone. I picked myself up, noting that my ankle hurt, and limped back to the house. By the time I turned off the alarm, I knew that not only had I hurt the one ankle, but also the other ankle and had scraped up both knees. After limping upstairs to the my first aid supplies, I put pressure on the bleeding and called a friend to discuss what an idiot I was. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once the bleeding had stopped, the ice pack had been thrown in the freezer, and one ankle wrapped and braced (because who has two ankle braces? Answer: Now me), I left the house to run all the errands, adding a trip to Target for first aid supplies. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I spent the rest of the week limping around during the day, sitting with my feet up at night. I went to the Balloon Glow with some friends, and someone asked if I played roller derby, because he'd treated someone built like I am with similar injuries. I wish, I told him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Note: It's been over a month, and while better, I'm still healing. The ankles were doing well, but something popped last week when I was cleaning out my closet in one ankle, so the brace is back on. Also, I have some very lovely scars on my knees. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-7432093765560056067?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/7432093765560056067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/10/flashback-watch-your-step.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/7432093765560056067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/7432093765560056067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/10/flashback-watch-your-step.html' title='FLASHBACK: Watch your step'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-7285748966586351945</id><published>2010-08-10T20:51:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-10T20:55:35.790-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Random bathroom encounters</title><content type='html'>I walked in to the (women's) bathroom this afternoon and heard someone talking in the last stall. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Who is it?" the person in the stall asked. And before I could answer, she asked further, "Is it a man or woman."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"It is a woman," I said, thinking &lt;i&gt;I just referred to myself as an 'it'. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The person then continued to talk to herself. While I was washing my hands, she exited the last stall. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Are you a student here?" she asked.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No, I explained, I worked at FOCUS, a non-profit in the building. She seemed satisfied, no more questions, and I left. Random.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-7285748966586351945?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/7285748966586351945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/08/random-bathroom-encounters.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/7285748966586351945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/7285748966586351945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/08/random-bathroom-encounters.html' title='Random bathroom encounters'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-8942463092809823024</id><published>2010-08-10T20:42:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-10T20:51:00.099-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Footloose</title><content type='html'>Last week at the MUNY the show was Footloose. Overall, I enjoyed the show, minus the number of the song "Footloose", but that was a problem with the book, not the performance. I like the song, a good thing since I listened to the song at least once per shift during my time at Cold Stone, and the song is broken up with dialog, making it feel jerky to me. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At the MUNY, the back ten or so rows are free, the only drawback being that us cheapskates wait about 90 minutes in our seats before the show starts. I bring a book and tend to finish whatever I'm reading that week. Last week, the people in the rows behind me got into a conversation about who was in the original movie. I was close enough to hear, but far enough to be out of the conversation. The lady behind me said, "Jennifer Grey."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Oh no, &lt;/i&gt;I thought&lt;i&gt;, she's confusing it with Dirty Dancing&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then the man behind her said, "Oh yeah, they made that sequel, &lt;i&gt;Havana Nights." &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And the confusion spread.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I spent the next few minutes texting Amanda and holding back laughter. See, Amanda confused &lt;i&gt;Footloose&lt;/i&gt; and &lt;i&gt;Dirty Dancing&lt;/i&gt; roughly once per semester at BV. I'd be going to the library, or we'd be sitting around, and she would say that she was in the mood to watch &lt;i&gt;Footloose&lt;/i&gt;. We'd go check it out, get back to our room, start the movie, and she would realize that she &lt;i&gt;actually&lt;/i&gt; wanted to watch &lt;i&gt;Dirty Dancing&lt;/i&gt;. This happened all the time. A future birthday present may be a two-pack so she can have a double feature whenever she wants. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-8942463092809823024?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/8942463092809823024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/08/footloose.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/8942463092809823024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/8942463092809823024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/08/footloose.html' title='Footloose'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-4604278671969990891</id><published>2010-07-23T21:37:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-23T21:39:08.646-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Some points from today</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Note: The past three weeks, I have had my laptop repaired, moved back to STL, and started my practice experience. Life is busy, and the MPH is almost done.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;1. There is now a St. Louis Bread Company in the Galleria, Because if there is one thing that STL needs, it's another Bread Company.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;2. I got honked at three times on the way to work. Twice by the same person at the same red light. I'm sorry, huge SUV, but while you may be able to see over the Kingshighway bridge, I can't in my little Saturn. I didn't have the right of way, so I waited. Honking will not make me not wait.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;3. I pre-ordered a book at Borders and went to pick it up today. The cashier couldn't find it and then went on a search throughout the store to find me another copy of the book. When I told her I had already paid for it, she went, "Oh" and found my book right away. Then we talked about comics and Scott Pilgrim. Good times.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;4. I decided I didn't want to deal with other drivers tonight, so I went and saw Inception instead of going to the concert downtown. I really enjoyed it. I figured out the twists before the end, but the plot was structured in such a way that I had some doubts and didn't feel cheated when I turned out to be right. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-4604278671969990891?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/4604278671969990891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/07/some-points-from-today.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/4604278671969990891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/4604278671969990891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/07/some-points-from-today.html' title='Some points from today'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-433105803488350797</id><published>2010-06-26T22:53:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-26T23:04:09.095-05:00</updated><title type='text'>On the plus side, 2010 is just about half over</title><content type='html'>I called Walmart yesterday to have a prescription refilled and found I was out of refills on that number, so I called the pharmacist. She looked it up for me, and asked if it was okay that this one was a higher dose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um, yes, that would be good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Using my deductive skills, I think the prescription was either called in incorrectly back in April or put in to Walmart's system incorrectly. This wrong prescription was then refilled for the past few months. I'm not sure who is responsible for the error, but considering the clinic has failed to inform me of or call in a prescription earlier this year, I'm inclined to think the problem is there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called the clinic, so there's a note in my file (oh how that file has grown  this year), and today was the first time in the past week or so that I haven't woken up a little wheezy. Plus, no more Flovent and losing my voice almost every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good thing I'm moving in two weeks and was going to transfer my prescriptions to Walgreens anyway, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-433105803488350797?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/433105803488350797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/06/on-plus-side-2010-is-just-about-half.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/433105803488350797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/433105803488350797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/06/on-plus-side-2010-is-just-about-half.html' title='On the plus side, 2010 is just about half over'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-7851876910541387479</id><published>2010-06-15T11:35:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-15T11:37:59.323-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Customer service has been contacted</title><content type='html'>The face lotion I bought last weekend specifically because it has sunscreen in it also has a sunburn warning on the back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"This product contains an alpha hydroxy acid (AHA) that may increase your skin's sensitivity to the sun and particularly the possibility of sunburn. Limit sun exposure while using this product and use a sunscreen for a week after use."  &lt;/span&gt;- Neutrogena Healthy Skin face lotion SPF15&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-7851876910541387479?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/7851876910541387479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/06/customer-service-has-been-contacted.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/7851876910541387479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/7851876910541387479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/06/customer-service-has-been-contacted.html' title='Customer service has been contacted'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-7188036097634250937</id><published>2010-06-09T23:05:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-09T23:10:31.625-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Buses and buffets</title><content type='html'>After spending the afternoon shopping in Sioux City, Amanda, Eric, and I were ready for a very early dinner - 4:15 early. Amanda and I were planning on going to 5 Guys, but Eric didn't want burgers so we ended up at Golden Corral, a buffet. We got there, paid, and were directed to one side of the restaurant because a party of 500 was going to be coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, super.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got our food and then the buses started arriving. Six buses of senior citizens on some sort of bus trip came, and I picked very poorly for our table location. We were definitely full when we left (well, Amanda and I were - Eric is Eric).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we were finishing up a large group from WIT came as well as two more buses that I don't think they knew about. I am so glad we missed further craziness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-7188036097634250937?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/7188036097634250937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/06/buses-and-buffets.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/7188036097634250937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/7188036097634250937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/06/buses-and-buffets.html' title='Buses and buffets'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-7750199162732723026</id><published>2010-06-08T10:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-08T10:46:51.425-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm thankful that...</title><content type='html'>... this time I ripped the butt out of my pants while I was at home, unlike last time when I was at Cold Stone and had to duct tape them back together for a seven hour shift.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-7750199162732723026?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/7750199162732723026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/06/im-thankful-that.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/7750199162732723026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/7750199162732723026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/06/im-thankful-that.html' title='I&apos;m thankful that...'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-8303890915067620739</id><published>2010-05-10T11:03:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T14:48:10.762-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Mother's Day Tale</title><content type='html'>The thing about being the oldest child and only one with a driver's license is that no matter how much I would like to be on top of the whole present thing, I still end up somewhat responsible for my brother's present procurement as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually, Eric becomes my financial backer. I'll find something, tell him what his contribution will be, and then pick it up. This Mother's Day, however, he ended up on his own. I still told him what Mom wanted (Bell's Are Ringing on DVD), so off he went to Barnes &amp;amp; Noble. Apparently, someone bought the last copy minutes before he got there, so he ended up buying a DVD pack instead and getting Dylan to chip in. I'm sure a bewildered clerk check him out on Friday (What is this movie and how did two people come in for it within 30 minutes?!?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I had the present taken care of, I put off buying a card because I knew I would be giving someone a ride to Walgreens on Saturday. However, Dylan failed to inform me that Dad took him to get a card earlier, so it was put off longer than necessary resulting in a more limited card selection. Eventually a card was found, and Mom liked the gift.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-8303890915067620739?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/8303890915067620739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/05/mothers-day-tale.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/8303890915067620739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/8303890915067620739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/05/mothers-day-tale.html' title='A Mother&apos;s Day Tale'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-5289467312291961606</id><published>2010-05-04T18:12:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-04T18:16:41.958-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A case of mistaken identity</title><content type='html'>Last weekend I visited some friends in Storm Lake, and when we were out on Friday night a lady came up to talk to us. Becky, who I had never met before, was very certain she knew not just me, but also my family. She thought she had met my sister last weekend and sold my mom a car recently. Neither of these women were redheads, so that wasn't the connecting factor. It took some doing to convince her that she didn't know my family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-5289467312291961606?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/5289467312291961606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/05/case-of-mistaken-identity.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/5289467312291961606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/5289467312291961606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/05/case-of-mistaken-identity.html' title='A case of mistaken identity'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-4007548140639050243</id><published>2010-04-08T16:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-08T16:29:18.682-05:00</updated><title type='text'>In which I return to the internet</title><content type='html'>Long, long, long story short (which may defeat the purpose of a blog), I'm finally healthy (or at least much healthier) after being ridiculously sick. The final diagnosis was out of control asthma that took only eight clinic visits, two blood draws, and more than ten prescriptions to arrive at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I took my oral exams for my masters program, which I passed. Fun times.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-4007548140639050243?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/4007548140639050243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/04/in-which-i-return-to-internet.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/4007548140639050243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/4007548140639050243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/04/in-which-i-return-to-internet.html' title='In which I return to the internet'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-3366437266895402386</id><published>2010-01-27T19:08:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T19:37:50.766-06:00</updated><title type='text'>January hasn't been my month</title><content type='html'>After spraining my wrist and catching the flu from my brother, I got a sinus infection and bronchitis. Apparently I can't do anything halfway. Since I still have a fever over 99 F (that's in the 101 F range for all you people with normal body temps), I went back to the doctor today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The PA decided she wanted blood work and a chest x-ray. I hadn't had my blood drawn since I was ten. It's  not that I have a problem with blood or anything, but they simply &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;can't find my veins&lt;/span&gt;. I tried giving blood multiple times only to be sent away with pity cookies and "maybe you should enjoy other people to give". With the help of an infant heel hot pack, the nice tech stuck my once, only positioned twice, and got barely enough blood. She was so flustered that she forgot that about the x-ray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Armed with new antibiotics and a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hunchback of Notre Dame&lt;/span&gt; bandage (Mom, that movie came out in 1996 - maybe time to clean out the first aid box), I know sit and surf the web waiting for new Psych. I can only pray that I have the mental capacity to do homework tomorrow, because today's two questions isn't going to cut it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-3366437266895402386?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/3366437266895402386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-hasnt-been-my-month.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/3366437266895402386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/3366437266895402386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/01/january-hasnt-been-my-month.html' title='January hasn&apos;t been my month'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-2895289400664431802</id><published>2010-01-09T09:40:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-09T09:59:32.918-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wrist Braces and Towing Notices</title><content type='html'>Well, I'm tired of snow. This week we had I think the fourth weekly blizzard since I came back to SD. Tuesday, Eric and I ran to Sioux City to beat the storm and pick up a few things. Eric was going to play DS and somehow dropped his stylus after hitting himself in the face with it (we're a very talented family). He couldn't find it while to car was moving, so while he was picking up some stuff from his dorm, I reached under the passenger seat to try and find it. I think I went wrong by doing this while seated in the driver seat, because my hand got stuck - my right hand. There was a moment when I thought my hand was going to brake, but I pulled my hand out, scrapping the wrist, bruising the back of my hand, and (as I now know) spraining my wrist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the storm hit, effectively trapping us at home again. By Thursday morning I realized I needed a brace, but the entire town was shut down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday I finally got a brace, but when I got home, there was a nice orange sticker on my car. My car was flagged as potentially abandoned and had to be moved by Sunday night or it would be towed. My dad's first thought was that the people who live across from where I park reported it because they don't like me parking there - a real possibility, despite it being a public street (seriously, people, you don't need the entire width of the cul-da-sac in order to back out of your drive, and if you do, you need to practice backing up). I called the police department to determine what was going on and found out there is an emergency decree that all cars must be moved every 24 hours so that the streets can be cleared. I don't know when they expected cars to be moved, considering school was still called off Friday. I think a lot of cars were flagged yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The current temp is -17F. The car has been moved, the brace is on, and now I'm on my second mug of tea, still trying to get warm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-2895289400664431802?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/2895289400664431802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/01/wrist-braces-and-towing-notices.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/2895289400664431802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/2895289400664431802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2010/01/wrist-braces-and-towing-notices.html' title='Wrist Braces and Towing Notices'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-1523129811181601981</id><published>2009-12-15T10:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T10:54:18.694-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas, a little early</title><content type='html'>Mom: Do you need more socks?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I have plenty of socks, they're just lighter weight than I need here. So I've been wearing two pairs at once the last few days. I might need some heavier socks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Or we could just get you some slippers&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: You already did, but they're a Christmas present. Remember, from Yonkers? That's why I was going to buy them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Oh, I forgot about those. Want to open a present early?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now my feet are very warm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-1523129811181601981?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/1523129811181601981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/12/merry-christmas-little-early.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/1523129811181601981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/1523129811181601981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/12/merry-christmas-little-early.html' title='Merry Christmas, a little early'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-2466738700583340183</id><published>2009-12-10T15:51:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-10T16:20:35.329-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Stuck in STL</title><content type='html'>I was supposed to be home by now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday I made the trek north to visit some friends I know from home who now live three hours north of STL. It was great seeing them, despite the continued "when are you getting married" talk. Karen is more concerned about my future prospects than my own mother. Let me work on where I'll be living in a month, OK?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Tuesday it was time for the going away lunch. It being STL, it was pouring, and I was running late due to traffic. However, that ended up not being an issue because Teal was running much later than I was, having gotten a flat tire on the side of the interstate. We went on a rescue mission, two of us having knowledge of how to change a tire. Forty-five minutes later, we were finished, if very wet. My total now is helping with ten flats in the past eleven years. I think I've now not only surpassed most people's lifetime totals, but lapped them as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I was drying out at my place, I got a call from Mom. A storm was moving through the upper Midwest, causing even Yankton to call off school. Driving conditions looked to be hazardous for my trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up yesterday morning to sun streaming through the window. It was mocking me. The storm was so bad that I-29 was closed - not just covered, but closed - pretty much the entire way home. I've learned not to tempt fate when it comes to my car, so no drive home. I had to unload clothes, some books, and the TV from my car in my pjs. I'm sure I provided some lovely entertainment to the neighbors at 7:30 AM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning it was pretty much the same song, second verse - road conditions were better, but not great. So the move has been postponed two days. A some point tonight I will reload the car, ready to make the likely ten hour drive home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-2466738700583340183?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/2466738700583340183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/12/stuck-in-stl.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/2466738700583340183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/2466738700583340183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/12/stuck-in-stl.html' title='Stuck in STL'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-7358359946995810656</id><published>2009-11-29T23:13:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T23:19:50.011-06:00</updated><title type='text'>In which I nearly reenact a scene from Gilmore Girls</title><content type='html'>This morning I started out on my voyage south one more time back to STL, this time with my brother who needed to be dropped off back at school. Near the Dakota Dome, not thirty minutes into the trip, a buck comes streaking across the highway. I hit the brakes, narrowly missing the buck by mere feet. Now, I asked Eric's opinion and he agrees, if I had not braked the deer would have hit me. I may love the episode of Gilmore Girls when Rory gets hit by a deer, but have no desire to relive it. And I still had almost nine hours of driving left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the trip involved long conversations with Crystal, a soggy sandwich from Hardees, the failure of my cigarette lighter/charger, and witnessing the mass exodus from STL. I70 westbound looked at nearly a standstill from Columbia onward. If an evacuation ever happens somewhere I'm traveling to, someone needs to call and let me know so I can turn around, because obviously otherwise I will just keep going.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-7358359946995810656?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/7358359946995810656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/11/in-which-i-nearly-reenact-scene-from.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/7358359946995810656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/7358359946995810656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/11/in-which-i-nearly-reenact-scene-from.html' title='In which I nearly reenact a scene from Gilmore Girls'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-9018197671936336302</id><published>2009-11-18T22:29:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T22:40:50.323-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Real World Tetris</title><content type='html'>Tonight I took a break from research to go get my laundry out of the dryer only to be greeted by a mattress in the stairway. Last week, the mattress and box spring were delivered for the new housemate. The delivery guy (who happened to have a degree in theology - the things you learn while moving furniture with people) and I moved the mattress fine but were unable to get the box spring up the stairs due to geometry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently deciding that we simply didn't try hard enough last week, the house owner and his friend could get it up to the second floor. Now, the guy would delivered the set sells and delivers furniture for a living. He does this all the time. And while I don't move furniture on a daily basis, I have helped multiple people move, and have moved myself three, soon to be four, times in the past two years. Needless to say, I can play real life Tetris. So when tonight the friend said, "We're just doing man stuff," (referring to physical labor, I guess?) I'm pretty sure I snorted before saying, "right."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to let them know what all we did last week, but it was pretty clear that they were not going to listen to me. I headed back to my room for a bit. A little while later, I went downstairs, finally able to get my laundry, and the box spring is back in living room.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-9018197671936336302?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/9018197671936336302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/11/real-world-tetris.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/9018197671936336302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/9018197671936336302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/11/real-world-tetris.html' title='Real World Tetris'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-5882463279513029941</id><published>2009-11-13T17:27:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-13T17:33:43.091-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I look out the window this morning to see this sight</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_efHSt7ln9Dk/Sv3sIk4JckI/AAAAAAAAC88/IdiV3jWCTgg/s1600-h/P1070318.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_efHSt7ln9Dk/Sv3sIk4JckI/AAAAAAAAC88/IdiV3jWCTgg/s320/P1070318.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403734759996748354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_efHSt7ln9Dk/Sv3sIY0Sx4I/AAAAAAAAC80/7oeoIZ5keZQ/s1600-h/P1070317.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_efHSt7ln9Dk/Sv3sIY0Sx4I/AAAAAAAAC80/7oeoIZ5keZQ/s320/P1070317.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403734756759357314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I live in a metropolitan area, even if it is in the county not the city proper. Yet, by moving 30 minutes last May, I went from watching for muggers to watching for deer. I have seen more deer in the past sixth months than the rest of my life, excluding the rather stressful drive to the FCB Spring Retreat my senior year. A word of advice - never tell God that the "topper for the week" would be hitting a deer. He has a sense of humor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-5882463279513029941?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/5882463279513029941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-look-out-window-this-morning-to-see.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/5882463279513029941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/5882463279513029941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-look-out-window-this-morning-to-see.html' title='I look out the window this morning to see this sight'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_efHSt7ln9Dk/Sv3sIk4JckI/AAAAAAAAC88/IdiV3jWCTgg/s72-c/P1070318.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-1625928294300552904</id><published>2009-11-12T09:53:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T09:55:00.312-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Proof Positive</title><content type='html'>"Good job getting the printer fixed.  Even if you did use magic." - My boss, via email yesterday&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-1625928294300552904?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/1625928294300552904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/11/proof-positive.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/1625928294300552904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/1625928294300552904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/11/proof-positive.html' title='Proof Positive'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-311745276356548416</id><published>2009-11-05T12:56:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T13:02:47.488-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Save Robin</title><content type='html'>My cousin Ben just turned four. Last Christmas, he received the whole Batcave thing, complete with a Robin on his bike. However, he doesn't have any villains. Therefore, Robin goes to jail. A lot. Mom tried to find him some for his birthday, but she couldn't find any in the greater Siouxland area. Right now, Batman has a dragon he can fight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a fan of Robin, I can't have this. I made a special trip to Walmart this morning and found a Penguin. I will continue to search the greater STL area until Mr. Freeze and Joker are also found.  If I come across Superman, he'll be picked up too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-311745276356548416?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/311745276356548416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/11/save-robin.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/311745276356548416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/311745276356548416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/11/save-robin.html' title='Save Robin'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-4659623896977786132</id><published>2009-10-27T22:39:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-27T22:46:18.423-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hasn't stopped raining for days</title><content type='html'>It is, once again, raining in STL. Actually, it might have finally stopped, but I haven't seen the sun since Sunday, so it doesn't actually count yet. Apparently I have selective memory, because it took me a while to remember that, yes, it rains a lot in STL in the fall, so much so that I bought rain boots last October.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rain outside was not the only water I dealt with today. Some time in the past week, a very important hose was moved at work. Rather than directing water from the ice cream machine into the drain, it sent the liquid out over the floor. I mopped every half hour on the half hour all afternoon, spreading the water out so it would dry. Good thing the air was nice and dry so it evaporated quickly, right? Oh wait....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other typical minor crisis occurred throughout the day. I think the best analogy to my position out in OF is that I am Cam when she first started on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bones&lt;/span&gt;. The store runs alright, although not as efficiently as it should. My job is apparently to clean up the store, without actually working with other employees. My boss must think I have magical powers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather forecast has given me hope. The sun is supposed to be out on Thursday. ON MY DAY OFF! I can go hiking and try to photograph the beautiful colors. Fingers crossed and prayers sent up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-4659623896977786132?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/4659623896977786132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/10/hasnt-stopped-raining-for-days.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/4659623896977786132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/4659623896977786132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/10/hasnt-stopped-raining-for-days.html' title='Hasn&apos;t stopped raining for days'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-7529074919827848108</id><published>2009-10-18T10:16:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T10:25:32.281-05:00</updated><title type='text'>More real life movie scenarios</title><content type='html'>So while craziness has continued, it been confined to school life, preventing all attempts at blogging. But Saturday at Cold Stone was too story-ful to not talk about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, the day wasn't terribly busy, and people were tipping again (possible sign of the end of the recession). By three I had already made almost $10 after multiple shift of no to $1 in tips. Unfortunately, some teenagers came in and stole my tips. These teens are making it a Saturday habit, and it's getting ridiculous. The owner has advised to pocket tips as we get them, which strikes me as awkward to do. Also, people tip more when there is money in the tip jar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought that was going to be the story of the day. Then a couple came downstairs after finishing their ice cream and headed back to the bathrooms. They didn't come out for quite a while, long enough for me to consider going and checking on them, when they both came out of the women's bathroom. Now, I can't know for sure what they were doing in there, but I can make some pretty good assumptions based on what I had to clean up. As my coworker Emily put it, "It's one of those things you hear about happening but never think will happen where you work" (to which Crystal added "or where you use the bathroom").&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-7529074919827848108?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/7529074919827848108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/10/more-real-life-movie-scenarios.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/7529074919827848108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/7529074919827848108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/10/more-real-life-movie-scenarios.html' title='More real life movie scenarios'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-6772675121367372549</id><published>2009-10-01T12:45:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-01T12:52:30.286-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just a typical Wednesday</title><content type='html'>The internet failed to work last night at home. I guess I wasn't supposed to work on homework, right? Here's a summary of my day, surprisingly not all that unusual for a Wednesday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was payroll day at work, and (surprise, surprise) the computer program was not fixed. That means manually entering everyone's hours for the past week in to a spreadsheet and sending it to the boss. We also got a truck, and the weather was nice, so the store was pretty hectic without that little wrinkle. I also took a bunch of cake orders. I'm one of two people regularly at that store who know how to build/decorate cakes, so I had my hands full on that front. As I was leaving, tech support called back, and I had the privilege of reprogramming a register. This was what tech support suggested we do two weeks ago, but last week they decided that wasn't the problem. Turns out they were looking at a function that has always worked, not the time keep. I ended up working an extra hour. Also, a lady ate an entire quart of ice cream in less than thirty minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my way home, the frying pan lady called back. The first thing out of her mouth was "I hope I have the right number this time". It took me a few tries to break through her speech to tell her that, no, she did not have the right number. I hope she gets her frying pan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-6772675121367372549?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/6772675121367372549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/10/just-typical-wednesday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/6772675121367372549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/6772675121367372549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/10/just-typical-wednesday.html' title='Just a typical Wednesday'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-4689200748175407008</id><published>2009-09-25T11:33:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T11:37:12.576-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wrong Number</title><content type='html'>I had a message on my phone last night after the World's Largest Ice Cream Social. The lady went on for over a minute about this frying pan, how she was all excited about getting this frying pan, and if I could please call her back soon because she was really looking forward to getting this frying pan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I checked the number, and it was from SD. I felt bad that this lady wasn't going to get her frying pan, so I called the number back. She answered, and I nicely told her that she had the wrong number and I couldn't get her a frying pan. She was pretty embarrassed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-4689200748175407008?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/4689200748175407008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/09/wrong-number.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/4689200748175407008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/4689200748175407008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/09/wrong-number.html' title='Wrong Number'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-4842404470228610386</id><published>2009-09-21T08:44:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T08:52:33.395-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This weekend in weird</title><content type='html'>FRIDAY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to get to work at six, meaning I had to drive through rush hour and I wanted to run by the library to pick up some stuff that was on hold for me. I pulled up to a stop light not far from my house, and the guy in the car next to me honked. I looked over and he motions to me to roll down my window. Great, I think, I must have a flat tire or a tail light out or something wrong with Harvey that will require me to be late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dude in next car: Huron or Mitchell&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Um, Yankton&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dude: Oh, I was trying to figure out what 7 was (referring to my SD license plates) I'm from Aberdeen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Nods&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dude: Well, welcome to MO!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Thanks... (mumble) I've been here a year&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then waited an awkward moment and rolled the window back up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SATURDAY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to work during a crazy birthday part. There was major miscommunication between my boss and the lady. He is going to get a phone call this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SUNDAY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was watching some of the Emmys for Dr Horrible before Mad Men started. The owner of the house came home and wanted to make sure I knew how to run the new tv and cable box hook up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guy: Yeah, the remotes not working, so I'm going to have to look at how I hooked it up. I must have done something wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: It's the remote.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guy: No, there are new batteries in the remote.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: The picture is coming in on the tv. It's hooked up alright. But the remote isn't working.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guy: Oh... you know, those batteries might be old. I'll be right back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*brings back batteries*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The remote then works, but he had the box behind the tv.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: We need to move the box - right now it's blocked by the tv.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The remotes now work from the couch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-4842404470228610386?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/4842404470228610386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/09/this-weekend-in-weird.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/4842404470228610386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/4842404470228610386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/09/this-weekend-in-weird.html' title='This weekend in weird'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-954980533725194145</id><published>2009-09-15T10:24:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T10:26:59.596-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Memory fail</title><content type='html'>So I completely  forgot (or blocked) my fail at work yesterday. Three of the four lights in the ghea (where the ice cream is kept) were burnt out. I found one replacement bulb and decided I would try to replace it. I'm a grad student, I should be able to replace a light bulb. Turns out, no, I can't, but I can slice my finger open in a poor attempt. Also, Cold Stone still had no band-aids (I put it on the 'need' list three weeks ago), so I had to MacGyver one out of paper towel and packaging tape.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-954980533725194145?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/954980533725194145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/09/memory-fail.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/954980533725194145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/954980533725194145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/09/memory-fail.html' title='Memory fail'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-7034779958383657067</id><published>2009-09-14T21:29:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T21:40:49.065-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just another manic Monday</title><content type='html'>I'm usually a pretty early riser. No alarm necessary, and I wake up around seven. However, one of the major perks of being an online student, in my opinion, is being able to do my school stuff in my pajamas. This morning I heard a knock on the door, but figured the house's owner would get it. His house, his repair problems, his responsibility. However, a few minutes later there was another knock, so I threw some clothes on and went to answer it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After letting the kitchen repair guy in, I got myself some breakfast. The repair guy asked if and when I would be leaving. I didn't have to be at work until 11:30, so the plan was to leave sometime between 10:30 and 11:00. He relayed that he would be spraying the kitchen and advised leaving sooner. I thanked him and packed up my stuff, departing for Bread Co. (Panera for all you non-STL people) soon after.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought Bread Co. would be pretty quiet during the morning; it just has that coffee house atmosphere. Apparently I was mistaken, because the new retiree community has group meetings at the one in the Loop. Also, I decided I shouldn't listen/watch lectures in public places, because the diagrams associated with infectious disease are not for everyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work was uneventful, and the test I took was finished without any problems. Not ten minutes after submitting the test, the power went out. I waited a bit to see if it would come back on by itself (it didn't) before venturing downstairs armed with my GPS unit complete with flashlight feature (the actual flashlight had dead batteries). To my surprise, the power was on in the back of the house. The owner checked the breaker box and said he flipped all the switches back. Still, no power for me. I went down to check, and the switch actually labeled for the upstairs bedrooms was still tripped. I fixed it quick, and power was restored. Hooray for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-7034779958383657067?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/7034779958383657067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/09/just-another-manic-monday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/7034779958383657067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/7034779958383657067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/09/just-another-manic-monday.html' title='Just another manic Monday'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-8742379683610947949</id><published>2009-09-12T21:33:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T21:41:27.037-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I now have smoke inhalation on top of everything else</title><content type='html'>One of the blenders at work went epically kaput at work this afternoon. The crew member was making two shakes at once, and suddenly the blender was smoking. We let it sit for a bit, then I tried the blender again. It emitted comical amounts of smoke. You know in movies when smoke billows from something? That's what it looked like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a face full of black smoke. When I went in the bathroom to check it, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Black soot was all over my nose. My eyes looked like I had been crying while wearing mascara.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to call Crystal on my way home to update her on these developments, but she didn't answer. I considered leaving a message, decided I would, and started talking. Apparently I chose poorly, because her voicemail hung up on me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-8742379683610947949?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/8742379683610947949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-now-have-smoke-inhalation-on-top-of.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/8742379683610947949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/8742379683610947949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-now-have-smoke-inhalation-on-top-of.html' title='I now have smoke inhalation on top of everything else'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-6549202069555393800</id><published>2009-09-08T10:50:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-11T21:04:27.957-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome Home</title><content type='html'>I just got back to STL. I rent a furnished room in a house, and I arrived back tonight to discover that the kitchen was completely sealed off from the rest of the house via plastic sheeting. Remember Andromeda Strain? That's what the entrance to the kitchen looks like. Turns out the leak the owner was working on fixing when I left resulted in mold (possibly black mold - I don't really know what kind of mold yet) spreading through the entire rear kitchen wall. The whole thing is torn up, microwave in the living room, etc. I can get to the fridge, but have to unzip the doorway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-6549202069555393800?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/6549202069555393800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/09/welcome-home.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/6549202069555393800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/6549202069555393800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/09/welcome-home.html' title='Welcome Home'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-5111422474821245473</id><published>2009-09-02T19:35:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-02T19:44:27.114-05:00</updated><title type='text'>OK, Universe, We'll Put Today in Your Column</title><content type='html'>I'm getting ready to go back up north for the weekend/my birthday, so I've been attempting to get all my homework done before leaving tomorrow. With the internet down this morning, that did not happen. It's hard to do online class when you can't get online.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then headed off to work. One wouldn't think that Cold Stone would be all that crazy a job. However, when the computer software goes wonky, the truck arrives, and the weather is nice enough that everyone and his brother decides to go out for ice cream, it gets a little nuts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now the internet is back up, I'm clean (I had chocolate on my shin when I got home. I didn't make chocolate ice cream. I have no idea where the chocolate came from), and lack all motivation to do anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to put today down as a "win" for the universe and watch some Muppet Show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;First Mate Miss Piggy about Captain Link Hogwash: "You and your bowling shows. He cries at the sad parts."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-5111422474821245473?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/5111422474821245473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/09/ok-universe-well-put-today-in-your.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/5111422474821245473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/5111422474821245473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/09/ok-universe-well-put-today-in-your.html' title='OK, Universe, We&apos;ll Put Today in Your Column'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-7211932739450231930</id><published>2009-08-13T09:43:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-13T09:50:01.146-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Does the night count as a win or a loss?</title><content type='html'>Saint Louis has a trivia obsession. Rather than doing car washes or bake sales, most groups do trivia nights for fundraisers. I did the SPH Relay for Life trivia night earlier this summer and had a great time. Since the local bars also tend to have trivia once a week, Katie and I decided to try our hands it last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got there a little late (Mythbusters was a little too good), so there we no tables left. We ended up joining a team of two older guys to "pool our resources". The trivia was fun, but getting hit on ALL NIGHT by a 43 year old was decidedly not fun. However, at the end of the night, we won first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would do bar trivia again, but ONLY if I had a group of about five people with which to go. No more "pooling resources" for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-7211932739450231930?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/7211932739450231930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/08/does-night-count-as-win-or-loss.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/7211932739450231930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/7211932739450231930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/08/does-night-count-as-win-or-loss.html' title='Does the night count as a win or a loss?'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-4926082636198663270</id><published>2009-08-04T15:59:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T16:01:42.678-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid Target Fruit Snacks</title><content type='html'>I admit it. I'm a Mott's fruit snack addict. Really, any fruit snacks will do (well, most any - the cheap HyVee ones are hardly worthy of the name). However, Mott's are made with apple juice and I feel slightly less guilty about eating multiple packages in one sitting. I bought another package today from Target, and once again they are all melted. I'm going to have to make a pit stop at a different Target in order to buy good ones and return these.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-4926082636198663270?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/4926082636198663270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/08/stupid-target-fruit-snacks.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/4926082636198663270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/4926082636198663270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/08/stupid-target-fruit-snacks.html' title='Stupid Target Fruit Snacks'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-1788113507220693831</id><published>2009-08-03T19:14:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T19:25:18.927-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I just needed the register to work</title><content type='html'>I got to work this morning and, once again, the money aspects of closing weren't done. After taking twenty minutes to finish that up, I tried to clock in on the computer. No dice. I tried all the various ways to clear out yesterday's information from the log to start a new day. Still no dice. At this point, I called both of my bosses, and both of their recommendations didn't work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was time to call tech support.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started by calling the tech support number listed in the manual. This number didn't work at first, then gave me a "this number is no longer in service - please call XXXXX" message. So I called the new number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I hung pretty fast, but I'm sure the tech support automated message would have been less adult than 5 seconds I heard from that phone number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then tried the tech support number on the register itself. This number was also not in service, although it did forward me to an annoying voice mail service. So much for 9 am to 10 pm Mon-Sun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally got the correct number from my boss, but the phone decided to revolt. It would not call multiple numbers. Once I realized that the problem was on my end, I called tech support on my cell phone. Hallelujah - I finally got through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, it was noon and the store was supposed to be open. However, since I was the only one working, I decided to continue dealing with register problem. It's not like I could sell anything at that point. People were, of course, waiting for me to open today. Two ladies waited 20 minutes before leaving. Then, while I was following tech support's instructions up front, more people were waiting outside and actually pounded on the door for me to let them in. I would if I could people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tech guy had to remotely install some software and said he would call me back when it was ready to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally opened the store at one, still no registers working, and we had to manually record all transactions for the day. And of course this was a busy Monday, something that happens maybe once every six weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I left, the registers still weren't working.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-1788113507220693831?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/1788113507220693831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-just-needed-register-to-work.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/1788113507220693831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/1788113507220693831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-just-needed-register-to-work.html' title='I just needed the register to work'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-7696261904803498476</id><published>2009-07-30T21:50:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-30T21:50:32.066-05:00</updated><title type='text'>List of injuries since Sunday</title><content type='html'>1. Bruise on base of left hand, pinkie side, from catching hand on corner at Coldstone. Pinkie/ring finger were numb then tingling the rest of the night (while serving the line that would not end)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Dropped pitcher on left foot. Results in circular bruise about 3 inches wide&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Fell at gardens. Scrapped up right arm, right calf, and top of right foot. Fall was harder than originally thought, resulting in what feels like deep bruise on right arm and leg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Broke blood vessel in back of left hand. Hand is currently slightly swollen, affecting grip. Driving is not fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***Does not include random bruises picked up during routine living. This list is limited to injuries actively causing discomfort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hot pad and ice pack are my best friends. I can't cross my ankles to sit as I normally do because I've injured the tops of both feet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-7696261904803498476?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/7696261904803498476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/07/list-of-injuries-since-sunday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/7696261904803498476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/7696261904803498476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/07/list-of-injuries-since-sunday.html' title='List of injuries since Sunday'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-5621596620904962891</id><published>2009-07-30T09:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-30T10:03:08.987-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It was me or the kid</title><content type='html'>Last night I went to the jazz night at the Botanical Gardens. Katie and I didn't have great seats, so we decided to walk around, allowing me to take pictures and listening to the jazz via speakers. The walk way was pretty crowded, so when Katie stopped suddenly, I tripped. I could have caught myself, but that would have involved knocking down a preschool-aged girl. I did the noble thing and wiped out. My arm is pretty scrapped up, but neosporin is being applied.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-5621596620904962891?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/5621596620904962891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/07/it-was-me-or-kid.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/5621596620904962891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/5621596620904962891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/07/it-was-me-or-kid.html' title='It was me or the kid'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6799853250983896969.post-1157954814286000104</id><published>2009-07-27T08:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T07:48:24.231-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='coldstone'/><title type='text'>Everything In Its Place</title><content type='html'>I am a weird occurrence magnet. Crazy things happen to  me that don't happen to normal people. It's not entirely that I have klutzy tendencies. It's more that I attract situations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, I work at a Cold Stone Creamery. My first day as shift leader, my coworker called in sick. Can't really fault her for it - she was in the emergency room. I called a few other people to try and get some help, but no one could come in. OK, I thought, I can handle this. What I didn't know of was a festival in the Loop. The line was so long that the wait was 1.5 hours. And people waited it. This went on for five hours, dying off 15 minutes before I got off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This blog is a place for my stories. Hope you enjoy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6799853250983896969-1157954814286000104?l=weirdmag.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/feeds/1157954814286000104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/07/everything-in-its-place.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/1157954814286000104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6799853250983896969/posts/default/1157954814286000104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://weirdmag.blogspot.com/2009/07/everything-in-its-place.html' title='Everything In Its Place'/><author><name>weirdoccurrencemagnet</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04021756722902798520</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
