Murphy's Law

Originally posted 14.August.2006

You've heard of Murphy's Law? We like to refer to it as Sod's Law in England, I'm not quite sure if that was an attempt to manoeuvre around a blatantly Irish name on our behalf or just a need to spice things up with our rather dry sense of English humour (if you're not sure about what this means you should probably look up where the term 'sod' comes from...), either way whomever's law it is was in full effect today. The law, by the way, for anyone who may not be familiar with it, is that whatever can go wrong, will go wrong.

I think I started this with the intention of listing each individual work related atrocity by line item to emphasize the sheer range of horrific events. I find now that I'm just far too tired to go into all the gory details. Instead, I'll simply say today was awful. Were I to write a poem now, it would probably be called "Untitled (A List of Events That Cause Me to Hate Everything)." I could even write a(n) haiku, although I'm damn sure that would centre around the repeated use of the word 'hate' as well. Meaningful yet compact.

So rather than continue my rant I shall depart so as to put on a new album, Eric Clapton's "No Reason to Cry" coming up (although I begin to question the validity of his assertion) and in exchange I leave you with this to chew on.

Sod's Laws and its Corallaries

(or The Twelve Laws of Inaccurate Perception)

• SOD'S LAW, ALSO KNOWN AS MURPHY'S LAW. If anything can go wrong, it will.
  
  
• O'TOOLE'S COMMENTARY ON MURPHY'S LAW. Murphy was an optimist.
  
  
• THE FIRST COROLLARY TO SOD'S LAW. Anything that is to go wrong will do so at the worst possible moment.
  
  
• THE UNSPEAKABLE LAW. As soon as you mention something, if it's good, it goes away; if it's bad, it happens.
  
  
• NON-RECIPROCAL LAWS OF EXPECTATIONS. Negative expectations yield negative results. Positive expectations yield negative results.
  
  
• HOWE'S LAW. Every man has a scheme which will not work.
  
  
• ZYMURGY'S FIRST LAW OF EVOLVING SYSTEM DYNAMICS. Once you open a can of worms, the only way to re-can them is to use a larger can.
  
  
• SKINNER'S CONSTANT. The quantity which must be multiplied by, divided by, added to or subtracted from the answer you get to give the answer you should have got.
  
  
• LAW OF SELECTIVE GRAVITY. An object will fall so as to do the most damage.
  
  
• JENNING'S COROLLARY. The chance of the bread falling with the buttered side down is directly proportional to the cost of the carpet.
  
  
• BARTH'S DISTINCTION. There are two types of people: those who divide people into two types and those who do not.
  
  
• NINETY-NINETY RULE OF PROJECT SCHEDULES. The first 90% of the job takes 90% of the time, the last 10% takes the other 90%.
  
  
• FARBER'S RULE. Necessity is the mother of strange bedfellows.

Practical Advice

Originally posted 6.March.2006

Having witnessed a number of situations abundant with unforgivable stupidity over the past few weeks, I feel obliged to point people in the right direction. If not for their own good then simply for the sake of my own sanity. Therefore, herewith I offer some practical advice:

1) If you have to wear a t-shirt proclaiming yourself a "rebel", you aren't one. Really.

2) When you take your small child to a shop and they spend innumerable minutes tugging at your clothing and very loudly saying over and over again "MummyMummyMummyyyyMuMummyMUMMYMUMMYMummy!" 
ANSWER THEM! Jesus Jumped-Up Christ, answer them. How do you not know what the next step is? Say something, anything. Odds are 50/50 it will result in quiet for the entire shop!

3) What is the point of buying an extravagant pair of rims for a car that is, let's face it, being held together by the paint, hmm? If you own a car that is, in all reality, totaling only three digits worth of cash then perhaps it would be best to save your money and put it towards a new car that isn't falling apart and doesn't spew forth exhaust fumes that cause birds to fall out of trees unconscious as you drive past. I'm not an expert, but you really don't want the ASPCA breathing down your neck for mass bird homicides, do you? And face it, shiny rims don't make your on-it's-last-legs car go any faster so it would be rather embarrassing to be on the losing end of a high speed chase that involves a 15 year old Animal Police van, no? Save your money, please. 

4) Let's say you submit a resume to a number of companies. One might assume, as I did, that you are in fact interested in working for these companies. At the very least, one would deduce that you are interested in having an interview so you can find out more about the company. This being said, when a company manager rings to offer you the opportunity to interview you should probably have already thought up a response to the request. Even if it is a polite rejection of said offer. Umming and ahhing over whether or not you're willing to make an appointment, is not endearing you to your interviewer. Agreeing to meet as though you're doing them a favour? Also not increasing your odds of finding employment. And honestly now, you gave us your resume, we're not randomly phoning you out of the blue. In fact having annoyed your interviewer immensely over the telephone and subsequently agreeing to meet early tomorrow morning, it's quite possible (having now seen your communication skills and professionalism in action) that we've decided not to interview you at all anymore. That being said, we'll be happy to advise you of said decision... once you've arrived. Happy trails, genius.

For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge...at Home Depot

Originally posted 22.February.2006

I had to stop at Home Depot on my way home this evening for some work related D.I.Y supplies. Quick in and out job, nothing major as I was eager to get home because I'm starved. 

Standing at the checkout with my gear, another queue opens up so I hop over to the next cashier who happens to be a little 86 year old man who has a look of perpetual suspicion on his face. He scans my choice items: 3 extra large heavy duty back belts (for my warehouse crew), 1 can of WD-40 (for getting stuck things loose) and a substantial amount of black electrical tape (for some hard wiring needed at an upcoming trade show). 

Judging by the scandalized look on his face, one can only assume that he concluded I was purchasing accoutrements for illicit sex acts I was about to engage in with three burly men...on a company credit card no less.  Not a bad way to spend one's evening, but not what I had in mind, at least not tonight.

I couldn't help myself. As I picked up my bag to go, I winked at the poor old man with his face in a permanent mask of disdain and said cheerfully "No worries, it's only illegal in three states!" I hope he didn't have heart failure as I made my way merrily across the parking lot.

Accidental Pets

Originally posted on 15.February.2006

I am, apparently, the proud new owner of a lizard. I say 'apparently' because I did not make a conscious decision to own one. It's not like I turfed up at the local pet shop and said "what 'ave you got for lizards? That one there, the little brown one, I'll take 'im."   Nor was I the recipient of one of those insanely poorly planned pets-for-gifts ideas that the gift giver often believes to be the most splendid item one human could possibly present to another despite the questionable logistics and appropriateness of said animal.

"Happy Birthday! Look what I got you!" proclaims the gift giver.

"It's a cow" the gift receiver says, rather bewildered.

"I know!" exclaims the insane gift giver, grinning ear to ear. "Her name's Betsy. Isn't she fantastic? And you're always saying how cute they are when you see one."

"I live in a third floor one bedroom apartment," points out the cow receiver.

So no, I was not given a lizard by a mad family member, friend or associate. I simply acquired him through no fault of my own. He (the lizard) has, upon discovering my place conveniently located on the ground floor with direct access to patio and grass, community pool and close to shops and beaches, taken a liking to it and seems loathe to leave despite my best efforts to evict him.

I thought he'd finally left after a couple weeks holiday with us so you can imagine my surprise when sitting reading on my couch Sunday afternoon I spied him nimbly hopping from television to stereo speaker. Did you know lizards can jump? They can. Needless to say I tossed aside my book only to have him elude me between the TV and bookcase. Just when I finally had him cornered, he scampered under the couch [*exasperated sigh*]. My couch is large and cumbersome, not at all the sort of furniture one can simultaneously lift on one's own whilst trying to reach underneath with the other hand for a small evasive lizard. So I gave up, reluctantly deciding he can stay as it wasn't worth the aggravation of chasing him around.  This I decided after forty futile minutes.

Live and let live. At least that was my thought until Monday night when I fell asleep on the couch, only to be woken in the wee hours by a small brown lizard loping up my torso. 

 "OUT!" (Points at door). 

Now he's got to go. I'm designating Saturday to relocating my little lizard friend to the great outdoors. Enjoy it while you can, mon ami, moving day is coming.

Swamp Castle & Other Senseless Projects

Originally posted 3.September.2006

On the heels of a hellish few weeks I decided to relax this weekend. The trouble with this plan, and if you know me you know there is almost always trouble with one of my 'plans', is that yet again there was something to distract me in a maddening sort of fashion. Something just minor enough to seem simple and make you think you can take care of it quickly and go back to "relaxing" inevitably turns into a battle of wits of major proportions and leaves you looking harassed and mumbling unintelligibly to yourself about how you can win against this (insert choice of inanimate object here).

Such is the case with my patio. In my defense, it's poorly designed, even my Dad and brother agree with this statement. Further to my defense, I didn't design it, nor did I build it. It came with the place. The thing about it is, well, its at the complete wrong angle. Thus when it rains my patio floods up to the door. I could live with that. I could, really. The bigger problem is the landscape design is crap so the resulting flood washes mulch, dirt, mud and whatever else it can find up to my back door. Once it dries up, I am forced to sweep everything back from whence it came. This annoys me. Greatly. 

So I had a plan. I bought those decorative little fencey-thingies for putting along the flower bed and thought that would keep mulch and friends out during rain. Regrettably, the crap building/landscape debacle continued when I found cement only 3 inches down at the point the fencey bits needed to be pushed into. So scrapped I that plan. This was several months ago on a day off.

Plan B was to buy some bricks and place a layer across the opening of the patio which would stop the onslaught nasty bits. This plan emerged several weeks ago on another day off. Unfortunately, as it turned out, it wasn't high enough. Much to my consternation, the water from the flat above splashed down with enough force to somehow fling the mulch and dirt over the layer of bricks like champion bloody pole vaulters. The second problem that emerged was that the pool of water on the patio then couldn't drain back and the patio didn't dry off. *Sigh*

Well then I was off to travel and such so I've just gotten back round to the problem yesterday now that I've finally got a day off again. But, no fear, for I had a new idea. *Ding!*

I purchased more bricks and turned them on their sides to make them taller so they couldn't be pole vaulted by twigs and mulch. I then made smaller spaces between every few so that water could drain back out. Better, I declared with satisfaction. And then it rained in the afternoon...

Somehow, devious chunks of mulch and dirt found their way through my drainage holes and still my bricks were not high enough to deter them from pole vaulting activities. At this point, I began to think this project was turning into a Swamp Castle construction site a la Monty Python's Holy Grail.

It was then I devised a new strategy. Or "strat-eeg-eey", as I affectionately call them. I would buy still more bricks. This time there would be two layers of bricks on their side but the drainage spaces would be staggered so even if bits of dastardly twigs, mulch and dirt found their way through the first space... well they wouldn't be able to navigate two corners to find their way onto my patio. And I placed the 3rd set of bricks across the top of the first two, as a capstone if you will, to steady the staggered bricks and create such a height that I was certain would be over the limits of any Olympic-bound pole vaulting twigs that may train in my area. Genius, I declared last night!

And today it rained again. But not just any rain, oh no. God-like fury, end of mankind, Noah's Ark sort of rain. Rain with such force that it conspired with mulch and twigs to force a certain percentage of them through the twists and turns of my staggered spaces. Anger and threats of bodily harm to all landscapers everywhere.

So then I got still more bricks and took away the staggered spaces and filled them in. And it rained some more. (Editor's note: this is rainy season in Florida. I didn't know they had one of those but apparently we do.) And still some dirt made it through and the drainage is of course not so good. %#@*!!! Right?

I thought, do I need more bricks? Surely not, soon my patio will resemble a scene from Poe's "Cask of Amontillado" and I'll be forced to leave just a small slit through which I can spy visitors approaching and shoot arrows if need be. What? I'm English. We've got lots of castles with this technology and I've got to say slitty arrow holes help with Jehovah's Witnesses and such, no? Good idea!

Anyway, after conference call with others who have experience in these matters (read: Dad), the new-new-new plan involves going back to fewer brick design staggered drainage spaces but using netting to keep out everything except the water. Tomorrow, I'm going to buy netting. At the end of this project no doubt my Mum will ring and ask me how the relaxing is going. And I'll have to say, "well Mum, let me ask you this? Do you know anyone who needs some spare bricks?"

And now for your reading pleasure (a llama once bit my sister) courtesy of the Python lads...
King of Swamp Castle: When I first came here, this was all swamp. Everyone said I was daft to build a castle on a swamp, but I built it all the same, just to show them. It sank into the swamp. So I built a second one. That sank into the swamp. So I built a third. That burned down, fell over, then sank into the swamp. But the fourth one stayed up. And that's what you're going to get, lad, the strongest castle in all of England.

Sit back, relax and TRY to enjoy the flight.

I've been on a quite a few flights this week (8 in the last 4 days) and I find myself becoming increasingly annoyed. Perhaps it's because more than half my flights have been at 6 a.m. prompting me to wake up at 3-4 a.m. and thus making me (un)naturally irritable. Truthfully, it feels like people are just being obtuse though.

On a particularly bad flight from Charlotte to Atlanta last Friday, we were delayed due to torrential rain and tornado warnings in Atlanta. We sat on the tarmac for an hour as they umm-ed and ahh-ed about whether or not to let us leave. Finally, the pilot announced we were in fact leaving. He then added that due to high winds, we were expected to have a very bumpy flight; due to the increased turbulence he advised that the cabin crew would be seated for the duration of the flight. We would not therefore be receiving our usual rations of drinks and nibbleys. Further to this, the fasten seat belt sign would remain on throughout the flight so we should not get up to use the bathroom or roam the aisle; we should stay seated with our seat belts fastened the entire time. Having set forth the new rules, we were finally advised to "sit back, relax and enjoy the flight." Not a chance, mate.

Something I've noticed lately is that some cabin crew are no longer demonstrating life jackets or oxygen masks. They still take the time to walk us through how an ordinary seat belt works but for more complicated tasks, we are now simply referred to the safety card in the seat back pocket. I'm sure if anyone needs a lesson or refresher, it won't be on the emergency bits which are rarely if ever used; I'm sure everyone will be able to figure out the part they've never done before. Hang on, show us the basic bit about the seat belt we've all used before again, will you? Well done to whomever worked out those priorities.
 
"Hey! I'm outta my seat belt!" 
"Fantastic! Do you happen to know, by any chance, how to work this vest thingy?" 
DEAD! Because he didn't put on the oxygen thingy first. But at least his seat belt is unfastened!

On this morning's 6 a.m. flight, I was irritated by how long it seemed to take us to get going. The cabin crew made more announcements than I've ever been subject to and I've spent a lot of time in airports. I think we were welcomed on board at least three times. Then the Captain came over the intercom to sing a song about not leaving until everyone's seat belt was fastened. I. Kid. You. Not.

He sang.  A song. Accompanied by the harmonica. I'm not sure if that's allowed by FAA regulations but if it is, it ought not to be. Apparently, we're a pack of pre-schoolers. I wondered if we'd be forced to sing nursery rhymes as a group before the in-flight service began. The only selection would be milk and cookies and we'd be instructed to take a compulsory nap before landing. 

Once the song finished, I was hoping we wouldn't need to hear from Captain Kangeroo again. Alas it was not to be as he came back after take off to do an impression of Arnold Schwarzenegger, during which he let us know he was turning off the seat belt sign so "everyvun cahn sztretch zheir big mus-sales, yah!" 

During early flights like this they usually have the cabin lights off. Ostensibly because it's dark out and this qualifies as a night flight. No chance of shut eye here though 'cos Captain Kangeroo thinks he's caught the last gig at the Comedy Connection. Five minutes after the Ah-nold announcement, he's on again to welcome us and thank us for choosing his airline (hand up if you're rapidly regretting that choice). Finally, he tells us that if there is anything they can do to make our flight more enjoyable not to hesitate to ask. I now have an overwhelming compulsion to push my call button and politely ask the stewardess when she arrives if she could possibly ask the Captain to shut up. Following that I would have had to ask if. in between the singing and games up in the cockpit, anyone had time to check how close we were to our destination. Apparently, no one told the pilot that we're well trained from a young age to bring our own entertainment on any road trip.

Just when I think it's safe to shut my eyes, one of the cabin crew begins a lengthy announcement about why we all ought to consider a Visa card for this airline and the wonderful benefits it now offers. I find it tortuous to have to sit through being sold something I don't want while I'm a captive audience. It's cruel and unusual punishment as far as I'm concerned. Let me just say this though, when you book your ticket now, no one mentions the added costs you'll be incurring. Bad enough that everyone quotes flights without the taxes and suddenly you're paying a lot more than you thought a la Ticket Master but these new hidden costs were formerly part of what you were paying for. These are just some that I've experienced this past year on various airlines. Not all airlines are charging these prices but some have opted to.

Pillow and/or Blanket - $7.00
In Flight Film - $5.00
Head Phones - $1.00
ANY Beverage (including coffee, tea, water!, soda, juice) - $1.00
Meal/Snack - $5.00-7.00
Seal Selection in Advance - $4.00 - $6.00 (note: not an upgrade, just a confirmation of a particular seat).

So apparently, you'll need that shiny new Visa just to make it through the flight if you were mistakenly thinking that these things are all still free. If you're application is approved, rest assured you'll be able to enjoy the remainder of your flight without fear of freezing, sleep-deprivation, dehydration, starvation or boredom. Guess that's why some airlines are now giving us free group songs! What's next? A seat belt surcharge?

"We'll be coming through the cabin shortly with Visa applications..."
"I don't want a Visa application, you toss-pot! I WANT PEANUTS!"

I have been rendered immobile.

No time to chat. Right now, I face a more serious crisis... Christmas cards.

The trouble is not the cost of postage or even the fact that if I have to write one more long UK address my hand may simply fall off. Nor is it the fact that every year at some point I think it'd have been worth getting some return address labels but I never do because I think I'll never need them, then four weeks before Christmas having written my own address 83 times I wonder why I don't have them.

No, problem is the dangerous nature of the cards. All the 'good' cards (and by 'good' I mean ones I find aesthetically pleasing or amusing in some way) seem to have glitter on them some where. I actually bought some this year thinking they didn't and upon opening them discovered they did in fact have glitter. It was hidden apparently. Glitter gets EVERYWHERE. It's like sand to Nth power. I've washed my hands three times and I still have glitter on me. I vacuumed around the card-writing area and still I see sparkles when I walk by. Perhaps most disturbing though is the fact that glitter can turn your own hands into deadly weapons. Having rubbed my face, I somehow got glitter in my eye. This caused me to writhe in agony and smash my knee against the table leg. Okay, so not deadly per se but on par with assaulting yourself.

All I'm saying is if you've got glitter on your Christmas cards- be careful! Wear gloves...or a haz-mat suit (you know, if you've got one lying around). If you get a glitter card from me, it's not that I'm trying to hurt you, it's just that they're too dangerous to have lying around my house since I live alone at the moment and don't have one of those medical emergency cally-button things.