A: Having your wisdom teeth pulled sans anesthetic.
Q: What's the second most unpleasant thing ever?
A: Hunting down a $0.20 accounting error in a couple of thousand transactions.
This is not something fun to come in to on Monday morning.
I came in late, of course, since I had to buy and drop off the new tires. Oh, that's right -- I haven't posted to my journal since Friday afternoon. Briefly:
- problems with front, passenger-side wheel = bad
- maintenance to rectify this being covered by insurance = good
- need new tires = bad
- have to buy said tired myself because no insurance policy in the history of history itself has ever covered replacement of tires = bad
- mechanic required by law in this case to install new tires for free = good
Nevertheless, this is $400 that I wasn't planning on spending, and depending on how you look it it, this comes either at the best possible time, or the worst. Tomorrow afternoon I leave immediately after work for a seminar in Chicago -- hooray for rush hour traffic. I'm going to MasterCard's annual Why We Suck Less Than Visa Seminar. Visa holds a similar seminar every year (and truthfully, neither one really sucks -- it's the bank that provides your card that sucks). I'll be gone for a few days, after which I'll have a day or two in town, and then I'll be gone for another week, possibly longer. Fun stuff.
While I was purchasing my tires, I saw that one of my coworkers from my last job was working in the garage. I've mentioned her in passing a couple of times to some of the people who read my journal, but it's doubtful anybody would remember. She's the girl who erroneously accused most of her male coworkers -- myself included -- of sexually assaulting her on the job. When this was happening the HR department kind of bit their collective lip and processed her complaints because you can't simply shrug off the possibility of sexual harassment (that and her foster parents both occupied upper management positions in the organization). As far as I know there's nothing on my permanent record pertaining to this "incident." It's the sort of thing you're never supposed to talk about, but I mentioned it to one of my friends who went to high school with this girl. Her response was "Oh God, she's doing that again?" Not so surprising when most of my memories of our conversations begin with her saying "last night my shrink told me that..." I didn't greet her, and I don't think she recognized me, since I no longer look like (the popular artist's conception of) Jesus.
My weekend was fairly quiet. On Friday night Ellen and I saw Monty Python's Life of Brian at Hilldale. I didn't realize the film was going to be in Madison because the last time I looked at its tour schedule, it wasn't coming any closer than Chicago. There were maybe 15 other people in the theater, and most of the audience was pretty silent through the whole film, which struck Ellen and I as odd. Doesn't matter -- we had a good time.
Saturday we decided, more or less on the spur of the moment, to visit the Jelly Belly distribution plant in Pleasant Prairie. After the tour, we sampled some of the Harry Potter flavours (with a "u," 'cos they're British). They were incredibly nasty. While I like spinach and spaghetti, they are flavors which were never meant to be faithfully captured in jellybean form. When the lingering aftertaste of Spaghetti held on through Buttered Toast, Red Apple, and Honey Graham Cracker, I decided against sampling Vomit.
I left with a couple of bags of Belly Flops (deformed but otherwise fine Jelly Bellys), which are ridiculously inexpensive. After we got back, we had dinner with devianttouch and wendybyrd at Big Bowl Asian Kitchen. Neither Ellen nor I had been there before, and it was quite good. My only complaint is that somehow most of the bits of chicken from my Kung Pao managed to disappear between the waitress clearing away my bowl and returning its contents in a take-out box. We hung out at Ellen's for awhile, and went to see Martin on what we were told would be his last night on the job. Guess what? His last night is next weekend. He doesn't want anybody to come see him because he'll be more severely understaffed than usual. Ellen and I propose that we all show up next Saturday night with pre-packed meals to lighten his workload.
Sunday was pretty much spent working on Mom and Dad's new house. I forced my sister and her boyfriend Eric to listen to the new They Might Be Giants album, and they liked it (or at least pretended to). Incidentally, They're starting to sell MP3s of live shows on their website. Madison's not up yet, but I'm totally spending the ten bucks on it if/when it is.