Rachelle's Random Ramblings and Rants


Ode to (what day is it?)... oh, yeah... Wednesday

Oh yes it is morning and morning is fine
No it is not. You see, I was lyin'

Wednesday is the third day of the week
And on it, it always seems things are quite bleak

Oh Why oh Why oh Why oh Why
Must we suffer through Wednesdays
Tell me, just try!

For on Wednesday, although the week's partially done,
In another, we see that it's only begun.

On Wednesday, we will cut off all our hair,
On Wednesday, on wednesday,
We all despair,
On Wednesday, on wednesday,
Chased by a bear,
On Wednesday, on wednesday,
On an uncomfortable chair.

Oh Wednesday, sweet wednesday,
Why are you spelled in such a weird way?
As if you were actually Wed-ness-day?

Wednesday, I hate you!
With all of your gumption
Wednesday, I wish you would
Die of consumption (a bit mean, but it rhymed well)

Wednesday, you bring me down so very much
I'm sick of you AND this ode and pastrami and such

I accept you, dear Wednesday, despite my all my ire
But it is Friday that I most desire (except not THIS Friday).

Did you like my poem?


March 25, 1997
I think I finally have all my files moved over to this new Geocities account. I am naturally suspicious of their motives in giving out free accounts. They give you 2M of space. My ENTIRE homepage takes up only a fraction of that. Now I need to think of something to put on these pages that will take up more space. Maybe I'll scan MYSELF (not just a photo of me, but the real deal) into a scanner and put the REAL ME on-line. I would be Virtual Rachelle except that that would be the only me.

One day, maybe I'll just put a holographic image of myself on the web (when technology catches up with my imagination). Then, when you are sitting there thinking "Hmm... I wonder what Rachelle is really like?", my page would automatically read your mind and a little ME would pop up and say "Hello. You wonder what I am like? Well, let me follow you around all day and you'll find out." Then YOU would desparately click on what my daughter refers to as Mr. X (the close window button) but it would all be to no avail because I would have programmed my hologram to just follow you anyhow.

Then you would run around your house, pulling plugs indiscriminately in the desparate hope of stopping me, but I would be powered by some energy that you don't quite understand and then you'd go to the fuse box and switch it off. But I'd still be there and you would realize that there is no hope. You are stuck with me until _I_ get sick of _YOU_.

Fortunately for you, technology has not advanced to that degree (yet).


March 4, 1997
You know, it actually is NOT March 4 today, but my watch says March 4... February screws the whole thing up with my watch. So do all months with less than 31 days.

So what the hell is today then? Hmm... well, let's see... Wasn't last Friday the 28? That would make today the 7th. So it is March the 7th today. Now I know. Just in time for it to be almost over.

Now I've set my watch so that tomorrow, we'll all be on the same page.


February 14, 1997
VALENTINE'S DAY

Happy Valentine's Day, dear lonely person who is reading this for reasons known only to him or her self... (Can I separate him and her from self like that??? I'll look it up later.)

Would you like to hear juicy tales of my Valentine's conquests? I'll just bet you would! heh heh heh...


January 24, 1997
Here is the useless, miscellaneous computer fact-oid of the day:
RS232C This nifty standard specifies the interface between data communications equipment (DCE) and data terminal equipment (DTE). We frequently use this baby to connect a computer's serial port to a modem. Also, this standard specifies the interface between week old socks (WOH in compu-speak) and my laundry hamper (or MLH in compuspeak), but in that case, you have to use a nasal obstructor or you might be the victim of a non-standard unenticing floating chemical trace of a biological byproduct that may interact with the cells in your nasal passage to create a stimulation that will then be sent to your cerebral cortex and interpreted as unpleasant. Or in other words, stinky socks. This fact-oid is brought to you in part (i.e. the correct part) thanks to the good book, 68000 Family Assembly Language by Alan Clements. Any problems you run into using this fact-oid are pretty much your own fault.
So what do you think? Is there a future for me in technical writing?
January 16, 1997
Contrary to popular belief, I am not dead. I am just resting.
January 2, 1997
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

December 13, 1996

Happy oooky spooky Friday the 13!!!

Do you realize that ANY person could become a millionaire. You need only have a relative who strikes it rich and then dies, leaving his or her wealth to YOU. So we all have the POTENTIAL to be millionaires.


December 10, 1996

Finals start this week. Tomorrow to be precise. There's nothing funny about that. Wish me luck. I'm trying hard to be optimistic about the whole thing.

It's like the whole light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel thing. I'm just trying not to realize that it's probably just another train coming straight at me.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!


December 1, 1996: My "Man", GUIDO

I have a miserable sore throat. And a runny, stuffy nose. How can a nose be runny and stuffy at the same time? It isn't right. I think they should make some sort of statute about that. It would be like the law they made in Oscar Wilde's Happy Prince "Birds are not allowed to die here" only it would read "Stuffy noses may not run". Of course, where would they run to and what would they do once they got there anyhow? That's the real question.

I think I may be delirious, so if none of this makes sense, that is my alibi.

I wish all my exams were over and I could just curl up in bed with a nice hot water bottle and a large goon-ish man called Guido towering over me giving me tremendous back rubs and "taking care" of any problems that arose.

That's what I REALLY need. A goon. That way, if any problems came up (and they always do), I could just send over my man Guido (my goon) and get things "sorted out" in a "nice, civilized manner". I think I would first send my man Guido out to "talk" to the people at Parking Services. Then the phone company...

The phone company, Telus, called last night and the man dissed me! I told him I was saving more with a different long distance company and the man laughed and said "Oh, I doubt that!" What an egotistical jerk! I told him that I didn't like being spoken to in a condescending manner and that I was hanging up on him in 3... 2... 1... click.

I think it took him by surprise. What an idiot.

You see how useful Guido would have been? "Excuse me, sir," Guido could have said to him,"but it appears that you have not treated Ms. Ditzian with the proper respect. This troubles me." And our phone company employee would be a'shakin' in his boots.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. I NEED a goon. It would solve so MANY of my problems.

"I'm afraid that Ms. Ditzian will not be writing this final exam. That won't be a problem, sir, will it?"

"Well, she'll get a 0 on it."

"Oh! Come now, professor, I'm sure we can find a solution amenable to all parties involved if you get my drift. You wouldn't want to upset Ms. Ditzian, would you? Because when she is upset, well, then _I_ am upset if you get my drift."

"You can't threaten me you big thug."

"Threaten? Why I wouldn't dream of it. I'm insulted that you would think that of me. Very disrespectful..."

I dream of Goon-ie...


November 26, 1996

Click HERE for a long-winded rant about Parking Services. Don't say I didn't warn you...

November 25, 1996

I'm going at this page all wrong! I was writing it from top to bottom, but I see that that is just wrong now. So NOW I'm adding new additions to the top. What a mess. At least it truly is random now!

I told some people in more tropical climes than mine that I'd be sending them our snow and guess what? It WORKED. It ACTUALLY worked. It snowed in Texas AND in Victoria. I don't think I managed to make it snow in Waterloo yet, but I'm working on it.

So, it turns out that I have powers I didn't realize I had. I can make snow happen. Neat, huh?


November 15, 1996

Well, I decided that since I have no time to actually write anything that is remotely coherent or sensible, I will write a bunch of incoherent nonsense. Just a bunch of junk. Will you read my bunch of junk?

I'd like to write all about my life and the crazy things that happen to me and oh, the injustice of it all, but of course, that would be a recipe for disaster since the people I would be bitterly complaining about are just those most likely to read this page (cf Murphy's Law Section 1.2.52 Chapter 12).

I guess the beatniks thought it was good to express express express and not to censor, erase or edit your thoughts. Fortunately for you, I am not a beatnik yet.

I recently became a vegan except M&M's. I don't know if it will stick. I guess we'll see. Recently is three weeks so far. I'm full o' beans now. I watched a documentary on CBC and ever since, I can't stomach meat or dairy. That's why I think TV is a dangerous and evil object. Before I watched the show, I was just a happy omnivore. I like meat and I think it's not too bad for you in moderation, but man, the way they treat animals sucks and there's nothing funny about that. So I decided that until they clean up their act ("they" being the people that treat these animals so badly), I'm not eating meat or dairy except M&M's (what a hypocrit!).

I guess I'm saying that I would prefer that if I'm eating someone, that they at least had a nice life before they were stew, you know?

Well, this new page is probably more of a result of my 1.5 hours of sleep than anything else. I wonder if my relatives ever read my pages - HI RELATIVES! I think if my parents did, they would be really embarassed and they would say "Rachelle, take that drivel off the web. Really, it's a disgrace. Aren't you ashamed? Have you no dignity?" The answer is no no no no no. I need my spewage. It's like a disease.

An Open Letter to any of Rachelle's relatives who Read her Webpage:

Hi. By the time you get to this section, you've most likely figured out that you really wish you weren't related to me. If we share a last name, you are probably out trademarking the family name and then hiring a fancy attorney to sue me for using your trademark. Otherwise, you are probably sighing a deep sigh of relief. At least no one will know we're related.

There are two types of people who write to me:

  1. People who enjoy reading the weird stuff that comes out of my head.
  2. People who do not enjoy reading the weird stuff that comes out of my head.

Surprisingly, there are many more of type #1 than type #2. Or at least that's my story and I'm sticking to it...

Anyhow, relation-person, I have tried not to say anything questionable about you-know-what. I know that you-know-who did that thing finally and I think it's for the best despite what the judge said. And ten years isn't really such a long time.

If they hadn't been in Peoria on the night of the "incident", everything would have gone as planned and NO one would have gotten hurt, but you know old crazy Aunt Martha! We just couldn't talk her out of the annual yam and grapefruit pilgrimage. But I digress...

Well, dear relative, as you may or may not know, I only had about 2 hours of sleep last night so I am going home to take a nap.

Thanks for stopping by...

Rachelle


November... 20, 1996

The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

-- Robert Burns

November 21, 1996

I would just like to take this moment to tell you all that "this is hell nor are we out of it" as Mephistophiles(sp?) said to Dr. Faustus in the famous Christopher Marlowe play.

It is minus 27 degrees celcius out and that's not fit weather for person nor beast. On Monday, someone drove into my car while I was stopped at a red light. This took one day out of my week because of my ensuing daze and aches.

Now I am trying to catch up in a hopeless 'against-the-odds' type of way. People were not meant to live this way I think. I work and work and work and see nary a human save my daughter and computing boyz for dayyyyyyyyyyyyys... and daze...


I've Got That Suction Cup Dart Feeling

I feel like someone just shot me in the forehead with one of those suction cup darts and I feel stunned, but I don't know why... and everyone else is laughing and pointing and saying... "Hey! Look at the funny girl with the suction cup dart stuck to her forehead." and I am standing around looking confused and lost.

You know?



Go Back

e-mail me at rditzian@gpu.srv.ualberta.ca

© November 1996 by Rachelle Megan Ditzian. All rights reserved.