Gotta watch Wapner. Gotta watch Wapner

6 months ago, I was really ticked off at RackNRoad. They had installed this (permanent) roof rack atop my car, and the work was not exactly to my satisfaction. There were numerous problems, and I won't bore my faithful readers with all the details here.

The important stuff: 1)Those tracks are not parallel; 2) the crossbars interfere with the sunroof 3) anything mounted on the rack interferes with the trunk 4) my beautiful car is scratched; 4) I was charged for parts not provided.



Anyway, we ended up in Small Claims Court yesterday. My case looked strong, or so I thought. Unfortunately, I am not an expert in the installation of permanent roof racks. When the expert (the defendant) says: "Those tracks are not supposed to be parallel", I guess that is more believable than me (as a non-expert) saying: "Are you kidding? I have the only roof rack in the world with non-parallel tracks".

Contrary to what you see on television, small claims court judges typically mail their decisions to the involved parties; still, I am guessing from the judge's tone that I did not fare well. On the way out, I said to the defendant: "I think you won that one". He patted me on the shoulder and replied: "That's business for you. Anything else I can help you with?" I suddenly felt bad for causing all the trouble...6 months had gone by, and the fight was really no longer in me.

So I'm ending my boycott of RackNRoad. I suppose the moral of the story is: Don't ever let anybody drill holes in the roof of your car. They are not easy to patch.

I can recall no athletic activity since October's marathon...except for that mud run.

And Nico's blogging is more regular than her exercise routine.

Needless to say, it's been a while since we've been on the tandem. On Saturday, instead of our usual (I use that term loosely) ride with the Bicycle Club of Irvine, we went for a rolling 34 miles with Tandem Time.

The Bicycle Club of Irvine is filled with cyclists of all skill levels (including a tandem or two), and we can usually lead the pack without too much effort. On the Tandem Time ride, there were more than 20 tandems, and all of them were faster than us...even the couple wearing large, furry (and not so aerodynamic) antlers. We must get in shape if we do this again.

Interesting aside: Tandem Time used to be part of the Bicycle Club of Irvine, but there was some falling out between the two groups several years ago, and now Tandem Time is part of the OC Wheelmen. I believe the OC Wheelmen split off from the Bicycle Club of Irvine several years ago, also. I suppose there are politics in everything: government, work, aquariums...politics in bicycling should not surprise me.

Last week, my department moved downstairs. We were previously in an open area, designed to encourage the free-flowing exchange of ideas. Now we are in a maze of Dilbert-esque cubicles. You can read more about it over at ICE's blog.

Because I keep getting lost while trying to find my desk, I suggested to the big boss woman that we get a street sign. Someone suggested that we call our "street" Lasko Way...I found the name to be a little narcissistic; especially since I am not the only person sitting in the aisle.

While helping out in the upstairs training room, I was told that all of the aisles had already been named, and that I was sitting on Balsa Ave. That sounded like a decent name, so I made a couple of street signs. Unfortunately, I had misunderstood: the name was supposed to be Bolsa Ave (a street that runs through Little Saigon)...evidently because: "There are so many Asians sitting here." Surprisingly, the Asians did not seem offended by any of this.

Anyway, I decided to name the street myself: Rodeo Drive (in honor of Sharon, and her $2000 shoes). She has chosen to operate the Prada cubicle:


I gave Mahsa Tiffany's before realizing that there is a Rodeo Drive Plastic Surgery Clinic.


My neghbor Jade requested Hermes. I had never heard of the place, but found her this nice logo:


I am operating the Bang & Olufsen shop.



Also featured on the street are: Gucci, Chanel, Cartier, and for Tuquyen (who was not even a little interested in the whole set up): the Anderton Court Shops, designed by Frank Lloyd Wright.

Shout out to mi amigo over at sidearms.net for sending us our first Christmas card of the season. Actually it's more of a winter card rather than a Christmas card...which was likely the sender's intent. (He once managed to find a Hallmark card which read: "Roses are reddish, violets are bluish. If it weren't for Christmas, we'd all be Jewish." I see now that the quote is attributed to Benny Hill.) But I digress. I am feeling quite guilty now, as I cannot remember the last time I sent a card to anybody; and yet, one of America's finest had the time to send this one (via snail mail, of all things) to us while still having the time to serve our country overseas.



In other news: One more week of Spanish (actually, one week of Spanish exams), and then it is finally over. I guess I have not posted about Spanish at all. You can read over at snakewoman's blog for a little more info. I will not be attempting any additional personal/professional development in the near future. I suppose that is not entirely true: Next up is beginning guitar at Coastline College. I seem to remember taking a guitar class once before.

In still other news: Is anybody else watching Dead Like Me? Originally aired on Showtime a few years ago, HDNET has recently started rerunning the show. I can watch just about anything in HD, even penguin migrations...but Dead Like me is absolutely brilliant. If you don't have HD, I believe you can catch it on the SciFi channel.

Finally done with training!!! Back to blogging as usual...just as soon as something exciting happens.

Sorry Prescription Solutions, this video will probably not run at work...

This blog will continue to be PG rated.

Please click here for an alternative title for this post.

Some months ago, I wrote about the closing of the Historic Balboa Funzone. The bumper cars are now gone, the scary dark ride is now gone, the spinning tops are now gone...the ferris wheel, merry-go-round, and arcades remain. Also still in existence is Harborside Restaurant (inside the Historic Balboa Pavilion). Last night, the waitress cut us off after 1 drink each. We are not obnoxious drunks (nor were we drunk)...very strange, indeed. Here's a picture of the restaurant from the Historic Balboa Island Ferry.


Here's Nico from the same ferry...the house behind her is supposed to be very, very bright.


I have not yet figured out how to display video with blogger, so please click the link for the first ever Takealotofdrugs Motion Picture, which I have titled: "People Have Way Too Much Time, Money, and Electricity on Their Hands". The reindeer atop the house were not yet revolving. (The background dialog is one of the many families walking around and looking at Christmas lights).

When you have this many lights, you probably need constant tech support.

Deep Thoughts by Michael Lasko

Yesterday, in a meeting of forty-something pharmacists (as in the number of pharmacists, not the age of the pharmacists), I was introduced (by my boss??) as the most sarcastic pharmacist. Was that the most sarcastic pharmacist in the room? In the building? In the world?

People call me sarcastic because: 1) they do not understand me and/or 2) they cannot believe anybody could be "that mean" (which is really the same thing as #1).

I have never thought of myself as a particularly sarcastic individual, though I occasionally describe myself as subtly sarcastic...so subtle that nobody notices...or is supposed to notice.

So anyway, last night there was nothing on television after la clase de Espanol, so I attempted to watch Becker. I have never seen an episode of Becker...probably because it makes me sad to see what happened to Ted Danson. The TBS tagline at the beginning was: "Becker, the world's most sarcastic doctor". I made it through about four minutes of this laugh track laden sitcom. I am funny and Becker is not. If Becker is sarcastic, clearly I am not.

From now on, I shall describe myself as ironic...or perhaps subtly ironic. Friends, coworkers, and other acquaintances, it is okay if you do not understand me. You probably do not understand most things ironic.

Is it unusual for somebody under the age of, say...70 to be offended by the radio show Loveline?

I'm not Black like Barry White, I'm white like Frank Black is.

Half a lifetime ago, I used to go to a lot of concerts. I was not particularly picky; concerts were my weekend event, and if the rock of the 80s was playing a band, I probably went to see them perform at least once. Certainly, the list of bands I have seen perform live would be more impressive were I 20 years older...perhaps I would have a cool story about watching as the Who destroyed their instruments for the first time...but alas, I was born too late. I did see quite a few big KROQ bands (like U2, the Cure, and REM) before they started sucking. I know what you're thinking: "New U2 is not that bad." Sure it's not that bad, but then you play some pre-Joshua Tree stuff, and you start thinking: "No, it's not bad, but it's not great either, is it? And in your heart you kind of know that although it sounds all right, it's actually just shite."

As part of my midlife crisis, I've been dragging Nico to a lot of concerts lately. We were off to the SD for the weekend to catch Frank Black (do not accidently type frankblack.com while searching for Frank Black's website) at the House of Blues. For those of you unfamiliar with Frank Black, he used to be Black Francis, lead singer of the Pixies. The Pixies were this extremely loud, mostly punk (only with more yelling) band that I loved in highschool. Solo, Frank Black has more of a bluesy mellow sound. On Saturday, he played alone with an acoustic guitar (belting out a couple of Pixies songs that were almost unrecognizable) for about a half hour, before being joined by his band. In my old age, I preferred the acoustic sound a little over all of them electric guitars.

Hit up some new restaurants while we were down south, including Cafe 222...owned by some celebrity chef who wears a waffle on her head. I had peanut butter and banana stuffed French toast (yes, we were there for breakfast).

Thingnamers: Did you know there are a bunch of clubs in San Diego with really hip names like JRDN, Jbar, and rox? These sound like the kinds of places that won't let me inside.