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Fri, Nov. 19th, 2004 09:32 pm"OMG it's a Tivo remote! I must sniff it and chew on it and pee on it!" Thus spake the rat.
Had to get up at six in the morning yesterday to take the poor rats to the vet -- Fitz-rat has been making this really strange sound in his chest that sounds like a pigeon. I can't quite explain it, but it does. So he's on antibiotics again. While we were there, I saw a little girl with a rat! I've never seen another rat there before. Her rat was a very cute grey hooded rat named Ella, and she was there for surgery. I felt very bad, and I hope she is feeling better. But a fellow rat-person! The girl had a big smile on her face when she saw there were little skittering rats in the carrying case I was holding.
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There's been a bit of management reorganization at the office that was strange, but the big thing that half the people keep talking about is the new door to the women's restroom. It's one of those doors that open all the way automatically when you push, for handicapped access. I don't think anyone's quite used to it yet, and it's horribly fun watching people go into the bathroom, push the door, pause, and slowly watch the door open by itself. On the day of the door debut, people would push it open, watch it open, and very cautiously peek around the other side to see if maybe someone was there opening the door veeeery sloooooowly. Oh, the excitement of cubicle life.
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I watched a Good Eats episode on sweet potatoes yesterday, in which I learned that yams grown in Africa, which are called "man-yams," can only be grown by men, because of their resemblance to certain anatomy bits. I nearly fell off the couch laughing, because, man-yams! And penis jokes on my favorite food show! Also, I wonder if this explains "manroot" in so many romance novels.
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I also still feel rather guilty for hanging up on a telemarketer today. Mostly they go away if I say "no" often and persistently, but this person just would not stop. And we just put our number on the do-not-call registry, too. I guess it hasn't taken hold yet. But the person asked for Mr. or Mrs. Boy, which is a sure sign, and when I said, sorry, they're not here right now, can I take a message please? she asked me who I was. I don't like giving out much personal info, and so I got hedgy. A friend, I said. They were out. Ok, said the telemarketer, what's your name? I hedged more and asked what the call was about. Standard fast-talking offer starts, in which I butt in and say that I'm really just visiting. The telemarketer asks again for some of my time. I say I'm busy. She says just a few minutes. I say I'm not interested. She keeps going. I get very nervous and annoyed and flight-or-fight kicks in, and I hang up and feel guilty. But wow, I haven't had one so bull-doggish for quite some time. Irksome.
( LJ title meme )
Had to get up at six in the morning yesterday to take the poor rats to the vet -- Fitz-rat has been making this really strange sound in his chest that sounds like a pigeon. I can't quite explain it, but it does. So he's on antibiotics again. While we were there, I saw a little girl with a rat! I've never seen another rat there before. Her rat was a very cute grey hooded rat named Ella, and she was there for surgery. I felt very bad, and I hope she is feeling better. But a fellow rat-person! The girl had a big smile on her face when she saw there were little skittering rats in the carrying case I was holding.
---
There's been a bit of management reorganization at the office that was strange, but the big thing that half the people keep talking about is the new door to the women's restroom. It's one of those doors that open all the way automatically when you push, for handicapped access. I don't think anyone's quite used to it yet, and it's horribly fun watching people go into the bathroom, push the door, pause, and slowly watch the door open by itself. On the day of the door debut, people would push it open, watch it open, and very cautiously peek around the other side to see if maybe someone was there opening the door veeeery sloooooowly. Oh, the excitement of cubicle life.
---
I watched a Good Eats episode on sweet potatoes yesterday, in which I learned that yams grown in Africa, which are called "man-yams," can only be grown by men, because of their resemblance to certain anatomy bits. I nearly fell off the couch laughing, because, man-yams! And penis jokes on my favorite food show! Also, I wonder if this explains "manroot" in so many romance novels.
---
I also still feel rather guilty for hanging up on a telemarketer today. Mostly they go away if I say "no" often and persistently, but this person just would not stop. And we just put our number on the do-not-call registry, too. I guess it hasn't taken hold yet. But the person asked for Mr. or Mrs. Boy, which is a sure sign, and when I said, sorry, they're not here right now, can I take a message please? she asked me who I was. I don't like giving out much personal info, and so I got hedgy. A friend, I said. They were out. Ok, said the telemarketer, what's your name? I hedged more and asked what the call was about. Standard fast-talking offer starts, in which I butt in and say that I'm really just visiting. The telemarketer asks again for some of my time. I say I'm busy. She says just a few minutes. I say I'm not interested. She keeps going. I get very nervous and annoyed and flight-or-fight kicks in, and I hang up and feel guilty. But wow, I haven't had one so bull-doggish for quite some time. Irksome.
( LJ title meme )