Not a South Park reference.

Told to me at work today:

"My first thought was, Oh My God, they killed Denton."

Now, they did not kill Denton, nor did they attempt to do so, nor would Denton have allowed himself to be killed, were that the case. But still: I love my job.

However, the Greenhouse has been asking for a lot of my time lately, so my time it shall have. But it's not like you've been missing on any wonderful stories in the meantime. I've been playing Diablo 2, and I got stopped by cattle for about twenty minutes on the weekend. That's it.

I do, however, have one thought which I shall pass on -- if all Volvos are "male", then where do new Volvos come from?

I ask you to imagine, deep in a rune-lined cavern in Sweden: The Queen Volvo. She is the Alpha and Omega of all things Volvo. That which bears her name must obey her will.

I'm totally making her into a comic-book villain some day, but if anyone wants to beat me to it, have at it.

In my dream, I'm hitting Alt-F4, but nothing happens.

Well, it's not often, but every now and then, I feel like I don't have the second-best job in the world. It was a horrible scene, my friends, and I must share it with you, only to ease my own burden...

I was in the back seat of the carpool on the way home. The conversation started out pleasantly enough, discussing family, future plans, and the like. Then, the driver asked, "Would you mind if we talked about work for a moment?" Normally, this is when I lean forward in my seat, not wanting to miss the stories of other "gardeners". This time, though, they took a left turn.

Before I knew what was happening, I was trapped in a discussion about the merits of a $200 day-long course on Microsoft Excel, versus a free seminar set up on a government website.

Fun Fact #1: Any conversation becomes less fun as soon as it mentions "a government website".

Fun Fact #2: This was not a fun conversation to begin with.

Fortunately, I blacked out after thirty seconds, only to wake up as we entered the city. I probably didn't win any favours from my co-workers, but maybe I'll get lucky, and they'll assume I had a long day. After all, they don't know about the pudding cups we keep in the hidden fridge.

Barista for a week.

Earlier this week, I was helping out with accomodating some visiting VIPs (i.e. getting coffee), and during one of their meetings, one of my co-workers noticed a safety officer poking around with the control panel. Out of curiosity, we approached.

"Excuse me... is there a problem here?"

"Oh, no, no," he replied. "We're just getting ready for the fire alarm test."

Glances were exchanged. "Fire alarm? Today?"

"Yep, it's already been scheduled."

"I...see. Have you mentioned this to the three dozen international delegates in the room across the hall?"

"Well, I didn't want to interrupt."

Wasn't that considerate? He didn't want to interrupt (so he let us interrupt the meeting instead). I don't know about you, but I'm willing to file that under "Irony".

After the conference had ended, all that was left was the clean-up and the tear-down. While packing up the percolator and silverware for the cafeteria, we realised there was still a bag of sugar left over. Not the original bag, though. This was an ordinary paper bag, filled with half a kilo of sugar. It wouldn't be sanitary to pour it back, but that was an awful lot of sugar to simply discard. Finally, I hit upon a solution:

"Why don't we pour it all down a gopher hole and see what happens?"

The concept was very well-received, but sadly, we never acted upon it. Not because we had any particular sympathy for the gophers... rather, piles of unidentified white powder tend to create a lot of concern in this industry.

Ah, well. It was an excellent week, regardless.

Useless trivia!

Ah, the gardening business is good. Unfortunately, that means it's time for me to suddenly change topics. Ready? Here we go!

1. Back in the days of the Roman Empire, Celtic was fairly widespread throughout Europe, and there were two dialects: "P" Celtic and "Q" Celtic. These were recognised by their native speakers as being distinct languages, but an outside observer would be hard pressed to tell the difference. The Romans referred to one of those peoples as "Germanus", which translates loosely to "out and out" Celts. In other words, "those people who are obviously Celts, except that they seem to think they're different from those other Celts we've seen. Even though they're obviously Celts. Go figure. Anyway, Hail Caesar!"

And that's why they prefer to refer to their country "Deutschland".

2. Here's one for those who know the pain of ISO 17025: Up until 1699, even though the mile was the standard unit of distance in Sweden, the actual length of a mile would vary widely, based on what part of Sweden you were in.

If "Seinfeld" took place in 17th century Sweden, one episode would have had Kramer and Jörge taking their horse to an abandoned racetrack in a far-off province, because its smaller mile would let them claim the equine speed record.

You know, the idea of a Swedish 17th century "Seinfeld" sounds much more appealing than it has any right to be.

3. My new favourite insect is the leaf-rolling caterpillar. In order to misdirect wasps, its larvae has a ring of blood vessels around its anus, and a hinged plate on top. When it defecates, it builds up pressure before releasing the hinge, allowing it to propel its waste up to two feet away!

And you thought projectile vomiting was bad.

4. Actually, I do have one bit of news from the greenhouse: After playing with the new camera, we decided to take a group photo. I'm the third from the right, with the cold nose and the hot chest.



Imposing, aren't we? Kind of like the Rainbow Brite version of Reservoir Dogs.

DSS: Original Gardeners.

It's odd enough just working on a military base, even if I'm still a civilian, employed by the federal government (which has an oddness all its own, of course). Today, though, I found out that my department was once called the DSS - Defense Scientific Service - and that it actually was a branch of the military. Land, Sea, Air, and Science. Neat idea, isn't it?

Of course, those days are long gone, but there's still one little holdover. You see, the military has always loved org charts, and the idea of having an entire branch that couldn't be lined up in order of importance was anathema to them. So, they created a list of "equivalent ranks", which essentially told the soldiers which civilians they had to grudgingly respect and which they could happily ignore.

Nowadays, the list isn't used for a single thing, but it's still there, and to my incalculable amusement, I discovered that my position has the equivalent rank of "Captain".

I shall repeat this for the sake of my own ego: The list isn't used for a single thing. It is obsolete. I am not a Captain.

But that still doesn't change the fact that I couldn't stop grinning all day.

Dispatches from the front.

Today, for 75 magical seconds, I actually found myself in a conversation with two other gardeners, discussing who would win in a fight: Spider-Man or Obi-Wan Kenobi.

I love my job.