HRO? TFSO? WTF?

Okay, so here's today's insight into how the government works. For all of our human resource needs, we always contacted the Human Resources Office, or HRO. Today we were notified that HRO was changing it's name as a department- to (are you ready?):

The Total Force Strategy Office. TFSO.

Call me crazy, but isn't that a much worse and less descriptive name? Isn't that department just called Human Resources everywhere? When you think of tasks like recruiting, benefits, what-have-you, do you think "That sounds like a job for the Total Force Strategy Office?" It doesn't really work the other way either. If you hear "Navy Total Force Strategy" do you think "I bet they handle retirement and health care for the civilian employees?" No you don't.

This falls into the category of "not really a big deal, but why?" Was there a problem with the name HRO? I don't get it.

Unnecessary Folders

So I finished my taxes yesterday, and I wanted to file away all the various papers and printouts for next year. Of course, I had no manila folders. So while I was out running errands I stopped into Staples to pick some up, and I was presented with two options. They were:

25 folders for $4.25, or
100 folders for $5.50.

Now, I need one folder. I don't need 25, let alone 100. But I would have to be an idiot not to buy the big pack, right? I mean, it's 17 cents a folder in the small pack, and 5.5 cents each in the big pack. Inside, it's the exact same product. The 25 pack is highway robbery!

This is why I'm a dream consumer- I always fall for this. It's the same reason I always get the biggie meal at Wendy's, the big popcorn chicken at KFC, and most notably, the gigantic Slurpee at 7-11. Honestly, if the 16 oz. Slurpee is $1.09, and the 40 oz. one is $1.39, what are you going to buy?

Oh- Tangent. I haven't had a delicious Slurpee in almost a year. This is a direct result of the only decent 7-11 in town closing up shop. Granted, the other 7-11 is still open for business, but it is ghetto and not even the sweet allure of the greatest soft frozen drink of all time can pull me in there. However, the rumor is that the former 7-11 is going to be torn down to make way for a Chipotle, so that would definitely help ease the pain.

So now I have roughly 99 manila folders I don't need. I'm trying to weigh potential alternative uses for them, since I file things maybe twice a year. So far I think I could burn them to heat my house, or craft an origami kitty hat.

I Need an Adult!

Tonight as I was making dinner the phone rang. I fully expected it to be a telemarketer (because it always is- maybe my "do not call" thing ran out) but I answered anyway. Here's the conversation:

Me: Hello?
Telemarketer: Hi! Are your parents home?
Me: Are you serious!? [click]

It's hard to convey in type, but she totally said it as though I was a child. Not even a teenager- it was like she thought a toddler had picked up the phone. As soon as I hung up, I regretted it. I mean, I had some questions for this lady! I wanted her to explain herself. I wanted to ask "How old do you think I am?" In fact, here are other responses that occurred to me after it was too late:

1. I don't know. I moved out in 1997.
2. I'm talking to you on a phone that I bought using service that I pay for while standing in a home that I pay the mortgage for. I have a two car garage.

Okay, well, those are the only two I can think of right now. I'd love to hear what everyone else comes up with!

I might be overreacting. I mean, she only heard one word, and I'm not exactly James Earl Jones or Barry White. But still- I haven't been asked if my parents were home in at least 10 years. Are my parents home...feh.

Engagement Announcement

In case anyone hasn't seen this yet:

INDIANAPOLIS -- Carly Frances Burgess and Daniel Vincent Brown are announcing their engagement and upcoming wedding. They are planning to exchange marriage vows on March 10, 2007, at the Indiana Historical Society.

Miss Burgess is the daughter of Dr. Howard II (Jeanie) Burgess of Lansing, Mich., and Tawnya Rowden and Jim Weigand of Elkhart. She graduated from Concord High School, Northwestern University in Evanston, Ill., in biological science and will receive her medical doctor degree in May 2007 from Indiana University Medical School.

Mr. Brown is the son of Dennis and Julie Brown of Anderson. He graduated from Highland High School in Anderson, and from Purdue University in 2002 with a mechanical engineering degree and a master's degree in 2006. He is a design engineer at Sikorsky Aircraft, Stratford, Conn.

Now if I could find the Anderson one with all the typos, we'd be in business.

On a side note, check out the other current announcement. Yikes! They were off to a bad start, but they really saved it with the giant rubber ducky.

Drill Hall Employees

Yeah yeah, it's been a while. I don't even have anything that great to add, so today you get a token annoyance post about the drill hall. Pretty soon I'll start posting about the stuff Erica and I have been up to, but I still haven't shown her my blog. Although, we did have the "I almost got married in June" talk, so that was really the last hurdle. Anyway!

There is one badge checker lady at the Drill Hall that I complain about all the time, because she checks my ID every day. During my marathon training, I was in there twice a week, and the 4 to 5 employees learned to recognize me (and I them) and the whole badge check became unnecessary. Then, after the marathon they hired a new lady. Since I had hurt my knee and this was before I took Carly's Nordic Trak, I was there every day. Every day this lady needs to check my ID. After 4 weeks or so, I started to just make eye contact, nod, and walk in without breaking my stride. But no! She always says "ID?" and looks at me expectantly. To this day, she still demands to see my badge everytime I go. I recognize her; does she not recognize me? It's like "Yes, I work here. I worked here yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. Almost every day that you have worked here, you have checked my ID. When are you going to remember?" It's been several months at this point.

I mention this because of an encounter yesterday: I walked in the door with another woman, and the badge checker says "ID?" I produce mine in a well-rehearsed yet annoyedly-dismissive manner, but the other lady was also prepared. Before Badge checker made it to the "D" in her catch phrase, other lady tersely said "I'm the AEROBICS INSTRUCTOR" in a manner that let me know that they've had this exchange before. I mention this because it makes me feel better that I'm not alone. Anyway, as annoyed as I get with this all, I have to cut her some slack. She might just be legally blind, or possibly mentally challenged, and I need to build up more Karma so I can get good parking spots again.

Bonus note! Every day I get a small towel for my workout. The other day I walked up to the window, cheerfully said "One small towel please," took it, and walked away. I made it about 10 feet before I noticed that they had given me one of the giant shower type towels. So I turned around and went back to the window. Only about 10 seconds had passed since I picked up the towel, but there was a new employee manning the window now. I said "Hi, I need a small towel so I'll trade you" and handed her the unused big towel. She immediately leapt back about a foot with a horrified look on her face and yelled "I'm not touching that! Put it in the hamper!" I stood there stunned for a second, petrified by the look of intense disgust in her eyes, until I realized that she wasn't there for the original pickup. She figured that I had arrived earlier, worked out, sweat up this towel, showered, dried with this towel, gotten dressed to kill and then attempted to hand her my body hair and microbe-laden diseased sweat rag. I guess I can't really blame her. I stammered out something like "Oh...God...this is...no, it's clean...uh" and threw it in the hamper. She gave me a dirty look as she handed me a fresh small towel, and muttered "Ugh! Jeeze." as I walked away. I'm pretty sure she remembers me now.

Solution? Tomorrow maybe I'll give the badge check lady a dirty towel, and see where that goes.

"Lost" Support Group

I was so ahead of the curve on this. A week after my public breakup with Lost, someone started this thread on E! Online. It's pretty funny- a lot of people thought of angles that didn't occur to me.

It's just nice to know I'm not alone.

My Previous First Date

Okay, people have been asking about what I've been up to this last week (and requesting a new post), so here goes: Yes, I am dating again. Right after Christmas I took the eHarmony plunge. I figure if they can find a girl for Howard, there has to be someone out there for me, right (joke)? Plus, I firmly believe in better living through technology. The idea that you'll bump into that special someone and have the foresight/courage to strike up a conversation that will lead to a relationship later is a little silly, especially in this town with it's 10:1 bachelor to bachelorette ratio.

So after a few months of sorting through matches and guided communication, one match stood head & shoulders above the rest [laughing to myself]. So we exchanged e-mails, talked on the phone, and we've been meeting in person the last few weekends.

Unfortunately, I'm not going to tell you any more about her right now. I haven't told her about my blog yet, and it would seem wrong to talk about her on the internet without her knowing, so I'll save the fun stuff for later. But I will give some general observations on what's changed since the last time I went on a first date, approximately 7 years ago- when N*Sync's Bye Bye Bye topped the charts and Mission: Impossible II was #1 at the box office:

1. I was in college, so dates were planned around homework and exams.
2. I had a cell phone, but all it did was make calls. It didn't even have caller ID. I never actually used it, because I only had like 50 minutes a month (plus it sounded terrible). That was so long ago that I actually wore it on my belt.
3. No one had ever heard of a "txt" message.
4. Starting a dotcom was a sure-fire path to becoming a multi-millionaire.
5. I had maybe 100 MP3s on my computer. We didn't have MP3 "players," and the first iPod was still a year away.
6. We had to worry about where to hang out, based on who's roommates were home.
7. Speaking of which, Daniel doesn't knock, he just barges right in. With his brother.
8. Internet dating was for weirdos and losers.
9. I knew nothing about women. Well, okay- some things are the same.

In any case, the game has changed, mostly because I'm pushing 30. This time I'm really not concerned with making people like me- I'm just out there. I'm saying whatever comes to mind and being totally honest. I figure if they don't like what I say, then okay, move along. So far it's worked out amazingly well. If it keeps going like this, you'll probably get to meet her soon enough.

Goodbye, Lost

Dear Lost-

When I heard that you were coming back Wednesday night, I was a little surprised. I know that back in December we agreed to take a break for a few months, when you left me with the worst cliffhanger since Friends zoomed in on Rachel at the wedding. But let's call it what it really is: a break up. Please don't act so surprised- I think we both knew that this was coming since season 2.

Maybe it's not you, it's me. You're still a great show that pulls strong ratings every week, but you're not the show I fell in love with. We used to follow the rag-tag team of castaways as they explored a mysterious island, and you'd give me clips of their past to explain why their new experiences were relevant. But you lost focus. You forgot your roots, and now we're stuck with a half-baked, plothole-laden "newcomers vs. establishment" story that barely makes sense. I'm not alone here- my friends and co-workers have noticed the change in you, too.

Now you're trying to lure me back again with promises of non-stop action. Well, forgive me if I've heard that before. This relationship has become stagnant. Let's face it, nothing really happened last season! Every week it was 5 minutes of recap, 20 minutes of back story, and maybe 15 minutes of present-day vamping. When it's over you've taken an hour of my life and given me nothing new. And really, nothing interesting.

In season 1 we had so much promise, but since we've been apart I can see that this isn't what I need. You're not even trying anymore, and I've got options. Shows like Heroes and Studio 60 that understand that I have needs as a viewer. I know my the timing is terrible (with Valentine's day right around the corner) but this is how you had to have it. And I'll admit that I had a tear in my eye as I deleted your season pass. I'll always remember the good times we had, and I'll always wonder if you could come up for a rational explanation for things like the cursed numbers, or that black-smoke monster.

I still want you to be a great show, and maybe someday you will be- but I just can't wait anymore. In 3 or 4 seasons when we learn it was all a dream, I'll know I made the right decision.

Love,
Marc

Totally unrelated:
I just watched Monday's Heroes, and it guest starred George Takei (of Star Trek fame). When he walks to his car, you can briefly see that his license plate is NCC-1701, the hull number of the Starship Enterprise. I award myself 1,000 dork points.

World Champions!

I hardly believe it. After so many near misses, the Colts are now Superbowl Champions. I don't even know what to say. It was a fun game to watch, but I don't know what I can add that the mainstream media hasn't beat to death. So here's what I thought was interesting:

• That was the first Superbowl ever played in the rain (in Miami no less).
• That was the first opening kickoff return for a touchdown in a Superbowl (it helped the Bears as much as it helped Ohio State).
• That was the first time a dome team won an outdoor Superbowl.
• Out of 41 Superbowls, only 26 different Quarterbacks have won (they can't all be Trent Dilfer).

All in all, it was a good watching. Now, sports fan etiquette says that I am not allowed to complain about the Colts for five years. We'll see how that goes. And finally:

GO COLTS!

221815170*

You can call me the Barry Bonds of Winterbells. Last night I tried to play a round on my old desktop, and 600MHz just isn't enough to run a demanding hopping bunny game. It ran at about half speed, so it was like I couldn't lose! The game kept going, and going, and going, to the point where I was pretty tired of playing. But the score just kept going higher, so what am I going to do, throw the game after I've already sunk 20 minutes into it? I kept thinking "Well, I'll play until I pass the million mark. Well okay, ten million. Since I've gone this far, I might as well break 100 million." Eventually my eyes got a little fuzzy and repetitive motion disorder set in and I misjudged a jump, and that cute little bunny fell for like 30 seconds.

I figure slowing down the game is as bad as the player being juiced, so this was a tainted victory, and will not be recognized as an official score. I guess I could go the Sosa route, and say that I was showing off for the fans, but I guess I need to stick to more capable computers for my Orisinal action. But I don't want to talk about the past.

In other news, I think my Subway cookie Karma is paying off. The Drill Hall has been absolutely mobbed this week, so there's been no where to park (which is especially bad when it's cold out). But everyday this week, right as I'm approaching the entrance, a car right by the door backs out and I'm rewarded with a rock star spot. That Carson Daly is on to something.

Happy Groundhog Day!

Colts Fans- Boring?

I read this little tidbit in yesterday's USA Today:

At Miami Beach's News Cafe, waiter Chris McNeill clued me in on how to spot a Bears fan: "They've got a lot of facial hair and they're always hungry."

What about Colts fans?

"They're plain and they have no personality," McNeill says.

I think them's fightin' words. But I guess he should know- he is a waiter. A warning to Miamians: don't make me generally dislike you like I do people from California and New York (city).

Also notice that the name of the column is "Laugh all the way to the Super Bowl." This clearly invokes my theory that it you preface something with a promise of humor, it's automatically 20-30% percent less funny right off the bat.

And you, Mr. Chris McNeill, are on notice.