I was cooking breakfast this morning for three of my children and my number 2 son - age 9 - was talking about how much he likes fire and how when he grows up he wants to do something that's involved with fire. I suggested firefighter but he said that sounded too dangerous. Then he elaborated:
"I want a simple job but one that doesn't get you killed.... but one that does get you killed, just not too often".
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Friday, September 28, 2007
Wreck, and backhand.
On the one hand, my lovelife's a trainwreck. But on the other hand, I played tennis last night and my backhand was superb. These things do rather cancel each other out.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
One day last week I was in the building where I work, talking with a colleague as we were going up in the elevator. We stopped short of our destination, the doors opened, there were two men in suits either side of the door. Each of them gestured for the other to go in. There was an uncomfortable silence, then, as if in slow motion, the elevator doors closed without either of them moving. "You go first." "No, you go first..." It serves them both right.
You see, in a situation like this, if someone gestures for you to go in first it can be a mark of respect (more on this later, if I remember), or a power play. How? The gesturer is saying to the gesturee "Look, I'm allowing you to go ahead" and, also, possibly "you look like you need help, whereas I, on the other hand am very capable". I'm quite up to the task of getting into an elevator and I don't need someone to usher me though, so I find this all vaguely insulting. I was first aware of this when I was a starving graduate student in New York and I noticed, with growing irritation, than an Italian friend of mine would always do this. Any doorway, anywhere. He'd get to it, hold it open, smile graciously and motion you through. At first it was charmingly continental, but after a few hours of it it started grating, and it took me quite a while to acknowledge my annoyance (which seemed, and still does, a bit churlish).
I have some young colleagues who try to hold doors open for me, and I quickly educate them. "The rule", I tell them, "is that the person closest to the door goes through first", although I do of course recognise that in doing that it's only good manners to hold the door open behind you as well.
There's an extra twist to this. What if the group contains one or more women, as sometimes happens even my industry (my workplace was once described to my ex by one of the other wives as "a sea of men", which I like to imagine she said in a somewhat breathless way). I've given this some thought so that you don't have to - you'll thank me for this later, I can tell.
If it's a social situation - and especially if any part of it has a date charcteristic - then holding the door for a woman is a pretty safe bet. If it's at work and she's a client then also, holding a door open is a good bet, but that also applies to male clients too, and it's part of the respect and control dual nature of the gesture. It says "you're my guest, I treasure you" and at the same time "I'm in charge, you're on my territory (and by the way can I order you a coffee?)"
But what if it's a female colleague, someone you wouldn't otherwise hold a door open if she was male? I say don't hold the door, and I know most (certainly in my building) would disagree. I think that door-holding sends a message along the lines of "you might think that going to law school and winding up in a high-powered professional role might earn you some respect, but to me you're just a babe in a skirt", but then again I do tend to over-think these sorts of things.
I explained to a female friend the other day (who I did, in fact, open doors for) why it is that men holds doors for women, and generally let women walk in front of them. It's so we can check out their butts. I had thought this was obvious but she was surprised and vaguely titillated. She did give me a very strange look over her shoulder a few times that evening, I expect in an attempt to catch me leering at her behind. But I'm quite a bit smarter than I look (which is just as well).
You see, in a situation like this, if someone gestures for you to go in first it can be a mark of respect (more on this later, if I remember), or a power play. How? The gesturer is saying to the gesturee "Look, I'm allowing you to go ahead" and, also, possibly "you look like you need help, whereas I, on the other hand am very capable". I'm quite up to the task of getting into an elevator and I don't need someone to usher me though, so I find this all vaguely insulting. I was first aware of this when I was a starving graduate student in New York and I noticed, with growing irritation, than an Italian friend of mine would always do this. Any doorway, anywhere. He'd get to it, hold it open, smile graciously and motion you through. At first it was charmingly continental, but after a few hours of it it started grating, and it took me quite a while to acknowledge my annoyance (which seemed, and still does, a bit churlish).
I have some young colleagues who try to hold doors open for me, and I quickly educate them. "The rule", I tell them, "is that the person closest to the door goes through first", although I do of course recognise that in doing that it's only good manners to hold the door open behind you as well.
There's an extra twist to this. What if the group contains one or more women, as sometimes happens even my industry (my workplace was once described to my ex by one of the other wives as "a sea of men", which I like to imagine she said in a somewhat breathless way). I've given this some thought so that you don't have to - you'll thank me for this later, I can tell.
If it's a social situation - and especially if any part of it has a date charcteristic - then holding the door for a woman is a pretty safe bet. If it's at work and she's a client then also, holding a door open is a good bet, but that also applies to male clients too, and it's part of the respect and control dual nature of the gesture. It says "you're my guest, I treasure you" and at the same time "I'm in charge, you're on my territory (and by the way can I order you a coffee?)"
But what if it's a female colleague, someone you wouldn't otherwise hold a door open if she was male? I say don't hold the door, and I know most (certainly in my building) would disagree. I think that door-holding sends a message along the lines of "you might think that going to law school and winding up in a high-powered professional role might earn you some respect, but to me you're just a babe in a skirt", but then again I do tend to over-think these sorts of things.
I explained to a female friend the other day (who I did, in fact, open doors for) why it is that men holds doors for women, and generally let women walk in front of them. It's so we can check out their butts. I had thought this was obvious but she was surprised and vaguely titillated. She did give me a very strange look over her shoulder a few times that evening, I expect in an attempt to catch me leering at her behind. But I'm quite a bit smarter than I look (which is just as well).
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Like a what, exactly?
I was talking to a friend yesterday and he used the expression "..face like a dropped pie". Maybe I need to get out more - has this one been around for ages and I just haven't noticed it? It's succint and not quite so self-conscioususly smartarsed as some of the other (still delightful) alternatives:
Face like a:
.... half-sucked mango
.... hatful of spiders
Or, as an old friend of mine once said, in an improvement on the spider one, "face like a hatful of spiders, but with the three good-looking ones taken out".
The same friend who gave me the pie one knows that I'm very keen on colorful expressions, especially if they're crude. He told me (and I doubt he would lie about this) that many years ago he was having a drink with his then-girlfriend and her mother, and the mother excused herself to pee by using the phrase "I have to go and squeeze my mop". I've only heard this once since, at a dinner party in London. It's almost too good.
Face like a:
.... half-sucked mango
.... hatful of spiders
Or, as an old friend of mine once said, in an improvement on the spider one, "face like a hatful of spiders, but with the three good-looking ones taken out".
The same friend who gave me the pie one knows that I'm very keen on colorful expressions, especially if they're crude. He told me (and I doubt he would lie about this) that many years ago he was having a drink with his then-girlfriend and her mother, and the mother excused herself to pee by using the phrase "I have to go and squeeze my mop". I've only heard this once since, at a dinner party in London. It's almost too good.
New name?
One of my colleagues at work said that I should be called 'Fergus' and I made the mistake of saying that I didn't like the name. So now I'm stuck with it. D'oh! They've even changed the nameplate on my desk.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Supersize me!
If you go to 7-11 to buy a slurpee, as I often do, you're faced with a decision. They come in three sizes: small, medium and large. I usually only have slurpees when I'm in Melbourne, I think because I need them more down there, but I had one today in Sydney (hangover, three beers last night) and I was musing about this size issue today.
The small costs $1.70, the medium $2.00 and the large $2.30. When I first started on this downhill spiral of slurpee abuse earlier this year (in an episode I described to my friend Melanie as me sitting in a borrowed car in the parking lot of the 7-11 in Mount Waverley, having a slurpee, banging my head againt the steering wheel and weeping) I used to go with what seemed like the value play. The medium's much bigger than the small, the large is, in turn much larger than the medium and it seemed reckless and foolish not to just get the large. It's about twice the size of the small, and not much more money.
But after lots and lots of research (I have a good mental map of the eastern suburbs of Melbourne, with all the 7-11s on it) I've come to a shocking conclusion: the optimal size for a slurpee is small.
"How can this be so?", I can hear you ask. "Have you taken leave of your senses?". And so on. Just calm down. No, the horrible truth is that if you get a big slurpee, when you get about halfway through it you get a bit bored. You reach a point you never imagined existed - the point where you've had enough slurpee. (In the same way that as a 16year old, you can't imagine how, as a new parent, exhausted after sleepness nights, you can be too tired for sex.)
After quite a bit of empirical work, I realised that this point - the point where the marginal utility goes negative - is about where you would be if you'd only had the small. So there's your answer. I know you'll thank me for this later.
The small costs $1.70, the medium $2.00 and the large $2.30. When I first started on this downhill spiral of slurpee abuse earlier this year (in an episode I described to my friend Melanie as me sitting in a borrowed car in the parking lot of the 7-11 in Mount Waverley, having a slurpee, banging my head againt the steering wheel and weeping) I used to go with what seemed like the value play. The medium's much bigger than the small, the large is, in turn much larger than the medium and it seemed reckless and foolish not to just get the large. It's about twice the size of the small, and not much more money.
But after lots and lots of research (I have a good mental map of the eastern suburbs of Melbourne, with all the 7-11s on it) I've come to a shocking conclusion: the optimal size for a slurpee is small.
"How can this be so?", I can hear you ask. "Have you taken leave of your senses?". And so on. Just calm down. No, the horrible truth is that if you get a big slurpee, when you get about halfway through it you get a bit bored. You reach a point you never imagined existed - the point where you've had enough slurpee. (In the same way that as a 16year old, you can't imagine how, as a new parent, exhausted after sleepness nights, you can be too tired for sex.)
After quite a bit of empirical work, I realised that this point - the point where the marginal utility goes negative - is about where you would be if you'd only had the small. So there's your answer. I know you'll thank me for this later.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Prison
Ohhh! I just noticed, someone from Florida Department of Corrections read my blog. I doubt it was an actual prisoner though.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
