Tonight, Greg and I had planned to go see The Black Angels down in Phoenix. We saw them once last year, and they were fantastical, and so the show tonight was something we were both super psyched for. AND THEN...
The coughing and hacking and spitting and nose-blowing took over my life.
I am beyond annoyed right now. I want to go to this show tonight so badly. I'm thinking I might be able to, since I was good and went to the doctor this afternoon and got some antibiotics for, what he said was "early bronchitis." At least if I am taking something, it shouldn't matter where I venture out in the world, right? I am not doomed to spending many more hours in bed, am I? Because I did that today and it has been a crummy, boring-ass day. Also, I figure hey-- if I am coughing in a loud club during a show, who's going to notice? And it's not like I won't cover my mouth and use lots of tissues.
This isn't over yet, either. My pain continues when I think that there's also a chance of us having to miss seeing "The Lieutenant of Inishmore" at Actor's Theater tomorrow night, too. I read a preview of this show last month and thought it sounded excellent... I mean, it's not everyday that you see a play that requires the use of a "blood cannon." Tickets were astronomically high, though, so I all but gave up hope of seeing it. Then, this week, they went on sale for $10 a ticket and Greg and I snapped a pair up for tomorrow night's show. Yay! BUT OF COURSE...
If I am coughing, that is unacceptable behavior in a theater. I don't want to be That Annoying Sick Person. I am thinking that, now that I am on the meds, the coughing will slow down, maybe? And there are Sucrets and other lozenges I can suck throughout a performance. We may still be able to see it. Right? After all, maybe I can time my coughs for the more violent scenes; maybe the sound of the gunfire will drown me out? One can hope.
Ah, hell. Whatever, universe. Just keep on screwing me, bitch. I'll get you one of these days.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Man Finds Human Leg in Smoker Grill
It's stories like this that just make the internet so comforting on a typical Wednesday morning. This little news tidbit reminds me of that old stupid rhyme that goes something like: Good food, good eats, good God, that's my knee!
I'll bet this Asian guy there loves himself some human remains. Those ain't burgers... they're peopleburgers.
Note to self: if I ever have a medical necessity that requires the amputation of any of my limbs-- even just pieces of my limbs-- do not decide to keep it. And if for some reason, the urge to keep it is too strong for me to withstand, do not store it in the grill. It's just not an ideal environment for my pieces.
Speaking of pieces, a show Greg introduced me to, Dexter, is awesome. If you haven't seen it, it's the story of a guy who, by day, works as a blood splatter specialist for the Miami police department, but at night, he is a serial killer. It's based on some books by Jeff Lindsay, and I need to read those books, very soon. I wish we had Showtime so we could watch season 2 when it starts.
It's stories like this that just make the internet so comforting on a typical Wednesday morning. This little news tidbit reminds me of that old stupid rhyme that goes something like: Good food, good eats, good God, that's my knee!
I'll bet this Asian guy there loves himself some human remains. Those ain't burgers... they're peopleburgers.Note to self: if I ever have a medical necessity that requires the amputation of any of my limbs-- even just pieces of my limbs-- do not decide to keep it. And if for some reason, the urge to keep it is too strong for me to withstand, do not store it in the grill. It's just not an ideal environment for my pieces.
Speaking of pieces, a show Greg introduced me to, Dexter, is awesome. If you haven't seen it, it's the story of a guy who, by day, works as a blood splatter specialist for the Miami police department, but at night, he is a serial killer. It's based on some books by Jeff Lindsay, and I need to read those books, very soon. I wish we had Showtime so we could watch season 2 when it starts.
Monday, September 24, 2007
MY LIBRARY CARD 
On Thursday night, Trish and I became official card-carrying members of the Mesa Public Library. Woo. Hoo.
I was excited. I admit it. I had been thinking about how wonderful it would be to once more be a card-carrying library patron. It’s been years since I have checked anything out of a library. I’ve gotten in the habit of just buying my own books every time I want to read something. Now that I am an older and more responsible adult (coughcoughNOT REALLYcoughcough), I decided that by using the resources of my local public library I would save a lot of money AND somehow help support my local community. Because I guess our local community would flat-out collapse without people like me owning library cards. It makes all the difference in the world.
Guess what, though… the library kind of sucked.
I’m not sure why I thought this, but I had assumed that the library would be full of books. Not a bunch of shelves with some books and approximately 20% free shelf space. Not rows and rows of audio books and VHS tapes on shelves. Not 15 freakin’ computer terminals taking up prime floor space, with people sitting on the internet sending e-mails through the free Hotmail. I was underwhelmed.
I went there to check out “Watership Down.” Trish and I looked it up on the computerized card file and saw that it appeared to be currently checked out. Damn. However, as we scrolled down the page, we saw that there was one copy on the shelf. OK, good. So we went over to where it was, and found it on the shelf and I took it with me to check it out. I did take a cursory look around for a few other books on my mental list of things I want to read, but to no avail… maybe the books I want to read are too new? Maybe they are not big enough to warrant being stocked there? I don’t know. It was close to closing time, and after Trish and I had taken a look around and laughing like the immature morons we often are in public, we kind of gave up.
A few things were weird:
1. The check-out system is now (gasp!) electronic. You scan the bar code on the book, and your library card, and it prints out a little receipt that tells you when the book is due back. It’s all self-service now. While I admire the efficiency of this new system, I will probably always pine for the days when I had my little paper card with the metal bar on it that the librarian would put down into some machine on the checkout desk, and then stamp my number onto the manila book card with a loud, satisfying thump-noise. I definitely prefer old-school, hands-on librarian action. And those little book cards. Sigh.
2. There was a relatively small freestanding shelf with “New Books” near the bathrooms. Well, Trish and I looked at the entire shelf and we didn’t see any titles we’d ever heard of. Not even the big best-sellers from the previous year. And while I have absolutely nothing against the smaller, lesser-known books (in fact I prefer them to best-sellers), it was disappointing to realize that no titles, no covers, nada, pulled me in. They looked dumb. Dumb new books no one cares about. By the bathroom, no less. Grab a crappy book, go take a crap. See how well this whole arrangement can work? Wow!
3. I underestimated my own “skeeved” factor. I am not a germaphobe. At least, I don’t think I am. I do wash my hands a whole lot, and usually even do the dorky “soap up for 15-20 seconds” every time because I want to do it RIGHT, but still… I can usually function in public pretty well without having to go scrub my hands till they’re raw after touching a shopping cart. But as I left with my first-checked-out, hardcover book in my hands, I realized I was going to have a tough time reading it. Why? Well, it FELT like hundreds of grubby hands had held the book before me. I just keep thinking about that, and how most people are dirty sons a bitches and I’ll bet half of them sat there, picking their noses or reading the book on the toilet…the same book I now have in my possession. I guess all these years of buying and reading my own, personal, exclusive copies of all those books really spoiled me. Now I feel kind of dirty whenever I touch that book. I have been breathing through my mouth around the book, for fear that I will catch a whiff of a skeevy past-borrower smell. I don’t really know how I am going to read a library book in the lunchroom while I eat lunch. I feel pouty and whiney about this, but damned if it isn’t bugging the crap out of me.
I guess the best part of this whole library experience happened on Saturday. I sprawled out, ready to begin reading this book (dirty pages be damned), when something really stupid became painfully obvious. It turns out that I was not reading what I thought I was reading. Rather than checking out “Watership Down,” I had checked out “Tales from Watership Down.” Which is something altogether different.
"Watership Down," the classic, was written in the late 1950s. "Tales from Watership Down" was written in 1996. And it’s basically a collection of rabbit folklore tales, or something. It talks about what happened after some climatic battle in "Watership Down."
It’s utterly useless to me. This does not help me along in my goal of reading "Watership Down." At ALL.
So, now I have to return the stupid, grubby book. I guess I didn’t realize the two books weren’t one in the same, because I think I assumed that “Tales from Watership Down” was the full name of “Watership Down.” You know, how sometimes we don’t call books by their full titles when they include extraneous things like “tales from”… now, of course, I can’t think of any examples of this, but still… I like to think it’s clear how I could have made this mistake.
I want to like the library. I do. I want to save book-buying dollars, and I want to support the library. But so far, it feels like a struggle. And a disappointment.
Stupid half-assed libraries. I’m going to go on my lunch hour and spit into the book drop.
On Thursday night, Trish and I became official card-carrying members of the Mesa Public Library. Woo. Hoo.
I was excited. I admit it. I had been thinking about how wonderful it would be to once more be a card-carrying library patron. It’s been years since I have checked anything out of a library. I’ve gotten in the habit of just buying my own books every time I want to read something. Now that I am an older and more responsible adult (coughcoughNOT REALLYcoughcough), I decided that by using the resources of my local public library I would save a lot of money AND somehow help support my local community. Because I guess our local community would flat-out collapse without people like me owning library cards. It makes all the difference in the world.
Guess what, though… the library kind of sucked.
I’m not sure why I thought this, but I had assumed that the library would be full of books. Not a bunch of shelves with some books and approximately 20% free shelf space. Not rows and rows of audio books and VHS tapes on shelves. Not 15 freakin’ computer terminals taking up prime floor space, with people sitting on the internet sending e-mails through the free Hotmail. I was underwhelmed.
I went there to check out “Watership Down.” Trish and I looked it up on the computerized card file and saw that it appeared to be currently checked out. Damn. However, as we scrolled down the page, we saw that there was one copy on the shelf. OK, good. So we went over to where it was, and found it on the shelf and I took it with me to check it out. I did take a cursory look around for a few other books on my mental list of things I want to read, but to no avail… maybe the books I want to read are too new? Maybe they are not big enough to warrant being stocked there? I don’t know. It was close to closing time, and after Trish and I had taken a look around and laughing like the immature morons we often are in public, we kind of gave up.
A few things were weird:
1. The check-out system is now (gasp!) electronic. You scan the bar code on the book, and your library card, and it prints out a little receipt that tells you when the book is due back. It’s all self-service now. While I admire the efficiency of this new system, I will probably always pine for the days when I had my little paper card with the metal bar on it that the librarian would put down into some machine on the checkout desk, and then stamp my number onto the manila book card with a loud, satisfying thump-noise. I definitely prefer old-school, hands-on librarian action. And those little book cards. Sigh.
2. There was a relatively small freestanding shelf with “New Books” near the bathrooms. Well, Trish and I looked at the entire shelf and we didn’t see any titles we’d ever heard of. Not even the big best-sellers from the previous year. And while I have absolutely nothing against the smaller, lesser-known books (in fact I prefer them to best-sellers), it was disappointing to realize that no titles, no covers, nada, pulled me in. They looked dumb. Dumb new books no one cares about. By the bathroom, no less. Grab a crappy book, go take a crap. See how well this whole arrangement can work? Wow!
3. I underestimated my own “skeeved” factor. I am not a germaphobe. At least, I don’t think I am. I do wash my hands a whole lot, and usually even do the dorky “soap up for 15-20 seconds” every time because I want to do it RIGHT, but still… I can usually function in public pretty well without having to go scrub my hands till they’re raw after touching a shopping cart. But as I left with my first-checked-out, hardcover book in my hands, I realized I was going to have a tough time reading it. Why? Well, it FELT like hundreds of grubby hands had held the book before me. I just keep thinking about that, and how most people are dirty sons a bitches and I’ll bet half of them sat there, picking their noses or reading the book on the toilet…the same book I now have in my possession. I guess all these years of buying and reading my own, personal, exclusive copies of all those books really spoiled me. Now I feel kind of dirty whenever I touch that book. I have been breathing through my mouth around the book, for fear that I will catch a whiff of a skeevy past-borrower smell. I don’t really know how I am going to read a library book in the lunchroom while I eat lunch. I feel pouty and whiney about this, but damned if it isn’t bugging the crap out of me.
I guess the best part of this whole library experience happened on Saturday. I sprawled out, ready to begin reading this book (dirty pages be damned), when something really stupid became painfully obvious. It turns out that I was not reading what I thought I was reading. Rather than checking out “Watership Down,” I had checked out “Tales from Watership Down.” Which is something altogether different.
"Watership Down," the classic, was written in the late 1950s. "Tales from Watership Down" was written in 1996. And it’s basically a collection of rabbit folklore tales, or something. It talks about what happened after some climatic battle in "Watership Down."
It’s utterly useless to me. This does not help me along in my goal of reading "Watership Down." At ALL.
So, now I have to return the stupid, grubby book. I guess I didn’t realize the two books weren’t one in the same, because I think I assumed that “Tales from Watership Down” was the full name of “Watership Down.” You know, how sometimes we don’t call books by their full titles when they include extraneous things like “tales from”… now, of course, I can’t think of any examples of this, but still… I like to think it’s clear how I could have made this mistake.
I want to like the library. I do. I want to save book-buying dollars, and I want to support the library. But so far, it feels like a struggle. And a disappointment.
Stupid half-assed libraries. I’m going to go on my lunch hour and spit into the book drop.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
It's been awhile since Malcolm has been on this page, so there he is. My little guy.Lately I have realized how old he really is. He is very skittish now, because he can't hear and his vision is fading. As soon as he is touched, he flinches and drops almost flat to the ground. He can't hear you coming. I try very hard to give him advance notice if I am going to pet him, by waving my hand in front of him or just waiting until he looks up and sees me there.
He's also scared of shadows. He was in the yard this morning and I walked towards him, and my shadow fell over him, and he hit the deck as if he were thinking, "What the fuck was THAT?!" Then, when he realized it was only me, he reared back and ran towards me like a happy little rabbit.
The thing that is probably the most telling is the fact that he often seems to forget what he is doing or what is going on. Sometimes I can put his food down right in front of him, in the normal place I always put it, and he will not see it or smell it. If I point my finger and make him follow my finger to his bowl, suddenly he will see the food at that point and get all excited, like, "Oh, yeah! That's what I was looking for!" He also does running leaps into the house, but doesn't always judge the distance well and knocks right into the doorstep rather than making it up and through the doorway. It's sad, but kind of funny too, because he always gets right back up and hops up into the house like nothing happened. He also runs into things when he is excited, but never gets hurt... he just seems surprised that there happens to be furniture there. How dare we put a table right where he needs to run?! The nerve of us humans!
BUT...
He's still got it. He still get hyper and runs around and snorts (it sounds like a sneeze, but it's his "I'm happy" sound) and does his freeze-in-place-until-we-charge-at-him and then skitter away frantically with his tail wagging. He's always patrolling the backyard, sniffing everything and basically playing his role in our little pack.
The other day, Indy decided it was time to play with Malcolm. Malcolm does NOT play with other dogs. Not just because it doesn't seem to be in his nature to do that, but because I am over-protective as hell and stop any kind of roughhousing involving Malcolm before it gets to the point where he could be hurt. Anyway, I was sitting here at my computer, and Malcolm was just curled up on the floor across the room, resting. Indy came into the room with his toy in his mouth, his tail wagging furiously. He spotted Malcolm, and dropped his toy in front of Malcolm. When Malcolm didn't do anything, Indy did the play stance in front of him and barked. Malcolm just froze in place and stared Indy down.
Indy got up and sniffed Malcolm all over, and Malcolm did not look happy. He got up and ran into a corner, Indy right behind him. Indy tried to engage him one more time, but all Malcolm did was lift his upper lip and show his teeth a little. There was no growl, and to be honest the face he was making looked so funny it was hard not to laugh at this whole exchange. Indy was loving it, though, and egging him on even more. I could almost hear Indy going, "Come ON, let's play, old man!" and Malcolm replying back, "I don't THINK so, fool."
Finally, after a few more minutes of this, I asked Indy to leave him alone. Which he did. I could tell Malcolm was getting tired and might get cranky if Indy persisted. It was still a fantastic scene, and I was really happy to see that even with his advanced age and lack of strong interaction with the two big dogs, Indy would still very much like to bring Malcolm into the mix. I like that Indy clearly thinks Malcolm could, in fact, manage to play. I know he and Hailie are good to him, leaving him alone and never pushing him too far when they want to sniff and lick him. I just love the little dynamic the three of them having going on. It's really cool to watch.
Now that we are finally moving towards cooler weather, I am going to fix my bike (flat tire) and get riding again. And that will mean, of course, Malcolm is welcome to ride with me again in his basket if he would like to. He used to run around like a wind-up toy when he saw me pulling my bike out of the shed! He loved to go for a ride. I think he likes the wind in his white, thinning hair. Either way, as long as he seems to enjoy it, he is my co-pilot.
I don't care that he is going senile a little bit, that he is blind, deaf, and has almost no teeth left. He's still awesome. I feel really lucky to have that little freakshow guy. I love ya, Malkie. (AKA Mooka, Blue, Peachhead, Mickey-Malcolm, Milky)
Saturday, September 15, 2007
WE WON!
Iowa State just beat Iowa, 15 to 13 with one second on the clock. This is HUGE in our house!!
(If someone had told me a few years ago that I'd sincerely find myself getting worked up in the fourth quarter of a college football game, I would have spit on you. But damned if my heart wasn't racing when the coach ran the clock down to 5 seconds so they could kick a 28 yard field goal and win it. Funny what a great husband will bring out in a person, I guess!)
Iowa State just beat Iowa, 15 to 13 with one second on the clock. This is HUGE in our house!!
(If someone had told me a few years ago that I'd sincerely find myself getting worked up in the fourth quarter of a college football game, I would have spit on you. But damned if my heart wasn't racing when the coach ran the clock down to 5 seconds so they could kick a 28 yard field goal and win it. Funny what a great husband will bring out in a person, I guess!)
Friday, September 14, 2007
The cool chick over at Below the Eight had this fun little music meme on her blog today, and since it's Friday and things are winding down for the weekend, it felt like as good a time as any to play along.
The Rules:
Put your mp3 player or music player on your computer on random.
Post the first four lines from the first 20 songs that play, no matter how embarrassing the song (Skip repeat artists).
Post and let everyone you know guess what song and artist the lines come from. TRY NOT TO CHEAT BY GOOGLING.
Here are my songs. Guess away!
1. I haven’t ever really found a place that I call home
I never stick around quite long enough to make it
I apologize for once again I’m not in love,
But it’s not as if I mind that your heart ain’t exactly breaking
2. To whom can I speak today, the brothers they are equal
But old friends of today have all become unlovable,
To whom can I speak today, the gentleness has perished
3. I’ve found a new baby, I’ve found a new girl
My fashion-plate baby got me in a whirl, whirl whirl
Her new kind of lovin’ done made me her slave
Her sweet turtle dovin’ is all that I crave
4. Because Mutiny on the Bounty’s what we’re all about
I’m gonna board your ship and turn it on out
No soft sucker with a parrot on his shoulder
Cuz I’m bad getting bolder and cold getting colder
5. Childhood living is easy to do
The things you wanted I bought them for you
Graceless lady you know who I am
You know I can’t let you slide through my hands
6. I’m not no red football to be kicked around the garden, oh no
I’m a red Christmas tree ball, and I’m fragile
I’m not no animal, though I am to you
I’m not no crocodile, like the one in Dublin Zoo
7. What did you think I would do at this moment?
When you’re standing before me with tears in your eyes
Trying to tell me that you have found you another
You just don’t love me no more.
8. Under the surface so crystal clear
Everyone was really tense, waiting down there
He had his own world just like I had mine
We’ll go separate ways, till the next time
9. You’ve got to fight for it
After all it’s yours
Don’t let the world push you down
Into its core
10. There’s a doctor living in your town,
There’s a lawyer and an Indian too, and neither
Doctor, lawyer nor Injun Chief can love you anymore than I do.
11. You can’t know, oh no, you can’t know
How much I think about you, no
It’s making my head spin
12. All alone on the floor
Next to your twin bed spring and mattress
The door is jar, and from afar
You can hear bands practicing
13. Are you lonesome tonight?
Do you miss me tonight?
Are you sorry we drifted apart?
14. Sometimes we walk hand in hand by the sea,
And we breathe in the cool salty air
You turn to me with a kiss in your eyes
And my heart feels a thrill beyond compare
15. Girls won’t touch me ‘cuz I got a misdirection
Living at night isn’t helping my complexion
The signs are all saying it’s a social infection
A little bit of fun’s never been an insurrection
16. Well I think I hate you, isn’t this fun
You’re gonna shoot, and darlin’ I’m loading the gun
I think I’m dumb, what train did you step off of, anyway?
I really don’t care.
17. Still don’t know what I was looking for
And my time was running wild a million dead-end streets and
Every time I thought I’d got it made
It seemed the taste was not so sweet
18. Now in Vienna, there’s ten pretty women
There’s a shoulder where death comes to cry,
There’s a lobby with nine hundred windows,
There’s a tree where the doves go to die.
19. Hands touch, eyes meet
A sudden silence, a sudden beat
Hearts leap in a giddy whirl
He could be that boy, but I’m not that girl
20. You were laying on the carpet
Like you’re satin in a coffin
You said, do you believe what you’re saying, and oh yeah,
But not that often
The Rules:
Put your mp3 player or music player on your computer on random.
Post the first four lines from the first 20 songs that play, no matter how embarrassing the song (Skip repeat artists).
Post and let everyone you know guess what song and artist the lines come from. TRY NOT TO CHEAT BY GOOGLING.
Here are my songs. Guess away!
1. I haven’t ever really found a place that I call home
I never stick around quite long enough to make it
I apologize for once again I’m not in love,
But it’s not as if I mind that your heart ain’t exactly breaking
2. To whom can I speak today, the brothers they are equal
But old friends of today have all become unlovable,
To whom can I speak today, the gentleness has perished
3. I’ve found a new baby, I’ve found a new girl
My fashion-plate baby got me in a whirl, whirl whirl
Her new kind of lovin’ done made me her slave
Her sweet turtle dovin’ is all that I crave
4. Because Mutiny on the Bounty’s what we’re all about
I’m gonna board your ship and turn it on out
No soft sucker with a parrot on his shoulder
Cuz I’m bad getting bolder and cold getting colder
5. Childhood living is easy to do
The things you wanted I bought them for you
Graceless lady you know who I am
You know I can’t let you slide through my hands
6. I’m not no red football to be kicked around the garden, oh no
I’m a red Christmas tree ball, and I’m fragile
I’m not no animal, though I am to you
I’m not no crocodile, like the one in Dublin Zoo
7. What did you think I would do at this moment?
When you’re standing before me with tears in your eyes
Trying to tell me that you have found you another
You just don’t love me no more.
8. Under the surface so crystal clear
Everyone was really tense, waiting down there
He had his own world just like I had mine
We’ll go separate ways, till the next time
9. You’ve got to fight for it
After all it’s yours
Don’t let the world push you down
Into its core
10. There’s a doctor living in your town,
There’s a lawyer and an Indian too, and neither
Doctor, lawyer nor Injun Chief can love you anymore than I do.
11. You can’t know, oh no, you can’t know
How much I think about you, no
It’s making my head spin
12. All alone on the floor
Next to your twin bed spring and mattress
The door is jar, and from afar
You can hear bands practicing
13. Are you lonesome tonight?
Do you miss me tonight?
Are you sorry we drifted apart?
14. Sometimes we walk hand in hand by the sea,
And we breathe in the cool salty air
You turn to me with a kiss in your eyes
And my heart feels a thrill beyond compare
15. Girls won’t touch me ‘cuz I got a misdirection
Living at night isn’t helping my complexion
The signs are all saying it’s a social infection
A little bit of fun’s never been an insurrection
16. Well I think I hate you, isn’t this fun
You’re gonna shoot, and darlin’ I’m loading the gun
I think I’m dumb, what train did you step off of, anyway?
I really don’t care.
17. Still don’t know what I was looking for
And my time was running wild a million dead-end streets and
Every time I thought I’d got it made
It seemed the taste was not so sweet
18. Now in Vienna, there’s ten pretty women
There’s a shoulder where death comes to cry,
There’s a lobby with nine hundred windows,
There’s a tree where the doves go to die.
19. Hands touch, eyes meet
A sudden silence, a sudden beat
Hearts leap in a giddy whirl
He could be that boy, but I’m not that girl
20. You were laying on the carpet
Like you’re satin in a coffin
You said, do you believe what you’re saying, and oh yeah,
But not that often
How has your week been? I’ll tell you that for me, the week has pretty much sailed by in a haze of drugs. Which is nice. What a lovely member of society I turned out to be.
Nah, it’s just cold medicine I speak of. That, and some of the ol’ Immodium. Now I have said too much. But it was a truth that did need to be shared for the sake of full disclosure. As much as I aspire to be a true drug addict, I just don’t have the follow-through to make something like that happen. Besides, becoming an addict would mean I’d have to find a dealer to sell me the junk, and well...that sounds a lot like “legwork” to me just to locate such an individual, and then there’s the follow-up purchasing I’d have to do…yeah, it’s way too much of a commitment. I think I’ll stick to over the counter stuff. Like beer.
So many people around me are sick, too. At work, we haven’t had a full department all week long. Someone’s always out sick. Either “there’s something going around,” like everyone says, or we’re all a bunch of underachieving lazy people who just don’t feel like putting in a full days’ work. Flip a coin.
When I haven’t been sick, I have been doing things like going out to eat with my sister the other day to the big-ass salad buffet place. That’s the actual name. It was delicious and quite filling. Buffets are evil, and encourage outrageous gluttony. I am pretty sure buffets would have been mentioned in the Bible as something a good, God-fearing person would never go to, had the word “buffet” been invented back in the Bible-writing era; you know, that time period where everyone and their brother’s brother were writing their own “books” and submitting them to the Bible Compilation Company.
Everyone knows the famous books, like the book of Genesis, the book of Revelation, and the Book of Love. But, most of the books of the Bible didn’t go on to become best-sellers. For example, for the life of me, I can’t remember a THING that happens in Samuel I. Or the 2nd Corinthians. All I remember from Bible study and Sunday School is that God speaketh (a LOT) and God rained down anger on non-believers and calves were sacrificed and people turned into pillars of salt. Which is pretty awesome, but it never says if deer came out and licked the pillar of salt.
Even as a kid, I was well aware of how much deer love salt licks. And guinea pigs. Our guinea pig, Gizmo, had a lovely wheel of salt he’d lick like the dickens. So anyway, what I am trying to say was that I was sitting there in Sunday School, imagining Lot’s wife getting turned into a huge pile of salt, which attracted all the woodland deer and guinea pigs who stood around licking Lot’s wife down to a pillar of nothing. And I would giggle to myself, because deer and guinea pigs are very cute. (Especially when they are wearing little “biblical-times head scarves and robes”, which they were in my imagination.)
Speaking of books, I think I am going to get a library card soon. I need to stop buying books I want to read, and get into the habit of borrowing them. Now that I am months into a heavy reading kick, I’ve got to keep it going. I plan to read “Watership Down” next because I never actually read it as a kid.
My sister and I were talking about the horrible, depressing books the school system forced us to read in school. Now there are so many great books out there for young people to read, and the whole Harry Potter thing proved that reading didn’t have to suck to a whole new generation of kids. But in my opinion, the schools continue to muck it up by assigning books that are complete downers.
If a book depresses you, or makes you cry, and then your teacher assigns you another downer right after that, and so on and so on, I think your opinion on reading is going to be affected. Here’s my list of books that are commonly read in schools (at least they were when I was in school) that are just boring, depressing or just plain unreadable:
• Old Yeller (a whole book about a dog dying? I never read it, and I never will!)
• A Separate Peace (all I remember about this is a kid named Phineas falls out of a tree, breaks his leg and dies from the infection. So good it will make you jam a pencil into your eye so you can stop reading it.)
• The Grapes of Wrath (a whole book about a poverty stricken family dealing with something depressing-sounding called “The Dust Bowl.” They starve, they cry, they are dirty with dust. Oh, Jesus.)
• The Great Gatsby (Gatsby winds up dead in his pool, and another character is hit by a car and there’s a description of how the accident tore her breast off. Wow, if that won’t get you excited for reading I don’t know what will.)
• The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (old man makes stuff up to cope with his terribly dull existence… it’s very sad and paints a bleak picture of life.)
• Flowers for Algernon (this is the one about the mentally challenged guy who has surgery to become smart, gets smart, starts to really enjoy life and right when it is getting really good, BAM! The surgery reverses itself and he goes stupid again. Probably THE most depressing thing I have ever read, and that’s saying a lot.)
• The Scarlet Letter (people being unfaithful, people treating other people like crap, people blaming and people getting swept up in lies…sounds great. Oh, and the best part is it takes place in a boring old village with boring clothes and boring social customs)
• Antigone (Woman goes against government to prove the law of the gods is more important than man’s laws, and she dies. In fact, a lot of people die. And their bodies are left in the dirt. I had to read this a grand total of THREE times, beginning in ninth grade and ending sophomore year of college. I kind of like it, but it is STILL very much a downer. Plus, it has a “Greek Chorus,” which to this day I don’t understand, because they hardly EVER sing anything.)
• Hamlet, King Lear, all the other Shakespearean tragedies: (Nope. No good can come of attempting to read these things. Fraught with death, betrayal, bad timing, poison, dead daughters—UGH. Also, fraught with an arcane language that makes you feel stupid when you try to read it because it’s like, “what the HELL does this mean? Is this even English?”)
• 1984 and Animal Farm (George Orwell is a great writer. And his stories have very powerful themes and get a young person thinking about government, anarchy, and free will. Which is good. What’s NOT good is the overall tone of doom and bleak sadness you’re left with as you have nightmares of what would be in your own personal Room 101. Not to mention you risk suffering a blow to the self-esteem if you to take the credo of “four legs good, two legs bad” to heart.)
And now I am about to add another book that is notorious for being dark when I go check out the book about a bunch of intellectual rabbits trying to flee their home that is about to be destroyed, and going to war with other rabbits...and dying. I hear lots of rabbits die in this book. What could be more fun than to spend a weekend reading a book about rabbit death!
Maybe I should consider reading a happier book instead. Like the Bible?
Nah, it’s just cold medicine I speak of. That, and some of the ol’ Immodium. Now I have said too much. But it was a truth that did need to be shared for the sake of full disclosure. As much as I aspire to be a true drug addict, I just don’t have the follow-through to make something like that happen. Besides, becoming an addict would mean I’d have to find a dealer to sell me the junk, and well...that sounds a lot like “legwork” to me just to locate such an individual, and then there’s the follow-up purchasing I’d have to do…yeah, it’s way too much of a commitment. I think I’ll stick to over the counter stuff. Like beer.
So many people around me are sick, too. At work, we haven’t had a full department all week long. Someone’s always out sick. Either “there’s something going around,” like everyone says, or we’re all a bunch of underachieving lazy people who just don’t feel like putting in a full days’ work. Flip a coin.
When I haven’t been sick, I have been doing things like going out to eat with my sister the other day to the big-ass salad buffet place. That’s the actual name. It was delicious and quite filling. Buffets are evil, and encourage outrageous gluttony. I am pretty sure buffets would have been mentioned in the Bible as something a good, God-fearing person would never go to, had the word “buffet” been invented back in the Bible-writing era; you know, that time period where everyone and their brother’s brother were writing their own “books” and submitting them to the Bible Compilation Company.
Everyone knows the famous books, like the book of Genesis, the book of Revelation, and the Book of Love. But, most of the books of the Bible didn’t go on to become best-sellers. For example, for the life of me, I can’t remember a THING that happens in Samuel I. Or the 2nd Corinthians. All I remember from Bible study and Sunday School is that God speaketh (a LOT) and God rained down anger on non-believers and calves were sacrificed and people turned into pillars of salt. Which is pretty awesome, but it never says if deer came out and licked the pillar of salt.
Even as a kid, I was well aware of how much deer love salt licks. And guinea pigs. Our guinea pig, Gizmo, had a lovely wheel of salt he’d lick like the dickens. So anyway, what I am trying to say was that I was sitting there in Sunday School, imagining Lot’s wife getting turned into a huge pile of salt, which attracted all the woodland deer and guinea pigs who stood around licking Lot’s wife down to a pillar of nothing. And I would giggle to myself, because deer and guinea pigs are very cute. (Especially when they are wearing little “biblical-times head scarves and robes”, which they were in my imagination.)
Speaking of books, I think I am going to get a library card soon. I need to stop buying books I want to read, and get into the habit of borrowing them. Now that I am months into a heavy reading kick, I’ve got to keep it going. I plan to read “Watership Down” next because I never actually read it as a kid.
My sister and I were talking about the horrible, depressing books the school system forced us to read in school. Now there are so many great books out there for young people to read, and the whole Harry Potter thing proved that reading didn’t have to suck to a whole new generation of kids. But in my opinion, the schools continue to muck it up by assigning books that are complete downers.
If a book depresses you, or makes you cry, and then your teacher assigns you another downer right after that, and so on and so on, I think your opinion on reading is going to be affected. Here’s my list of books that are commonly read in schools (at least they were when I was in school) that are just boring, depressing or just plain unreadable:
• Old Yeller (a whole book about a dog dying? I never read it, and I never will!)
• A Separate Peace (all I remember about this is a kid named Phineas falls out of a tree, breaks his leg and dies from the infection. So good it will make you jam a pencil into your eye so you can stop reading it.)
• The Grapes of Wrath (a whole book about a poverty stricken family dealing with something depressing-sounding called “The Dust Bowl.” They starve, they cry, they are dirty with dust. Oh, Jesus.)
• The Great Gatsby (Gatsby winds up dead in his pool, and another character is hit by a car and there’s a description of how the accident tore her breast off. Wow, if that won’t get you excited for reading I don’t know what will.)
• The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (old man makes stuff up to cope with his terribly dull existence… it’s very sad and paints a bleak picture of life.)
• Flowers for Algernon (this is the one about the mentally challenged guy who has surgery to become smart, gets smart, starts to really enjoy life and right when it is getting really good, BAM! The surgery reverses itself and he goes stupid again. Probably THE most depressing thing I have ever read, and that’s saying a lot.)
• The Scarlet Letter (people being unfaithful, people treating other people like crap, people blaming and people getting swept up in lies…sounds great. Oh, and the best part is it takes place in a boring old village with boring clothes and boring social customs)
• Antigone (Woman goes against government to prove the law of the gods is more important than man’s laws, and she dies. In fact, a lot of people die. And their bodies are left in the dirt. I had to read this a grand total of THREE times, beginning in ninth grade and ending sophomore year of college. I kind of like it, but it is STILL very much a downer. Plus, it has a “Greek Chorus,” which to this day I don’t understand, because they hardly EVER sing anything.)
• Hamlet, King Lear, all the other Shakespearean tragedies: (Nope. No good can come of attempting to read these things. Fraught with death, betrayal, bad timing, poison, dead daughters—UGH. Also, fraught with an arcane language that makes you feel stupid when you try to read it because it’s like, “what the HELL does this mean? Is this even English?”)
• 1984 and Animal Farm (George Orwell is a great writer. And his stories have very powerful themes and get a young person thinking about government, anarchy, and free will. Which is good. What’s NOT good is the overall tone of doom and bleak sadness you’re left with as you have nightmares of what would be in your own personal Room 101. Not to mention you risk suffering a blow to the self-esteem if you to take the credo of “four legs good, two legs bad” to heart.)
And now I am about to add another book that is notorious for being dark when I go check out the book about a bunch of intellectual rabbits trying to flee their home that is about to be destroyed, and going to war with other rabbits...and dying. I hear lots of rabbits die in this book. What could be more fun than to spend a weekend reading a book about rabbit death!
Maybe I should consider reading a happier book instead. Like the Bible?
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Monday, September 10, 2007
Old School Mickey D's
I miss McDonalds... the McDonalds I knew as a kid, that is.
I know I can go to a McDonalds pretty much anytime I want now, but back when I was little, going to McDonalds was so damn awesome. I loved those french fries, and the hamburger wrapped in paper! I loved the white cups with the orange, yellow and brown "m" pattern going around the outside. I loved Happy Meals in those cool little boxes. It didn't even matter, always, what the toy/prize was; for some reason, I coveted the boxes themselves. The cardboard used in those boxes smelled good...kind of like the fries.
I miss McDonald Land. The old-school play areas with the Fry Guy rocking-horse things, and the big yellow slide. It was way cooler than the weird looking tunnels and ball crawls they have now. Well, maybe I would have thought otherwise if they had those things when I was that young, but all I know is the new McDonald Play Lands look kind of stupid. I can't explain it. It probably has something to do with the lack of Fry Guys. I loved those little bastards.
I used to think the concept of a drive-through was the shit. I wanted to work at a drive-through when I grew up. I loved how my Mom would talk through a speaker on a post, and we'd pull up and it turned out that someone behind a window, inside the building, had HEARD our order and had put it all together in white McDonalds bags for us to take away with us. This technology blew my young mind. I realize that it might make me sound like I was a little retarded as a kid, but whatever...think what you want. Maybe I was a retard. So be it. All I know is, I sure had a good time!
I can't believe the little things, like getting to have McDonalds for lunch, used to make my day back then. Now I feel like a loser when once more, I find myself sitting there in front of the stupid picture menu at the drive-through, giving the person on the other side of the intercom my order in a defeated voice... I mean, couldn't I have found some other option? Couldn't I go get a sandwich, or a salad, somewhere? No? Just gonna drive up, get my bag of McDonalds crap, and drive away and eat it all alone in a parking lot somewhere, ashamed of my blatant fat-ass American-ness. Sigh.
But come on now.
Those fries really are delicious.
One more thing... whatever happened to the Hamburglar? I am pretty confident when I say I think that their sales would go up if they brought back the Hamburglar and Grimace. And of course, Mayor McCheese! Think about it... if you knew you could see those three dudes when you went to McDonalds, wouldn't you want to go even more, just for the cool retro factor, if nothing else? Am I really alone in feeling this way?
I always wondered why Mayor McCheese never got to apprehend the Hamburglar. I think it's because in some ways, he admired the brazen and devious nature of the Hamburglar. He wished he, too, could slip around McDonald Land, wearing a mask and stealing hamburgers. But, instead, he was suckered into a public service job. I bet he had a wife and kids at home... some little burgers that were really mistakes at the time, but the Mayor loved them anyway. Mayor McCheese never got to have any fun. Sure, he might have been able to go get drunk at a happy hour with a couple of the Fry Guys from time to time, but for the sake of his public image, he had to keep that more or less on the down-low.
Yet that Hamburglar could run around in BROAD DAYLIGHT, stealing burgers from everyone, even that dipshit Ronald, right in front of people's faces. He probably got a lot of ass, too. Chicks in McDonald Land definitely liked the bad boys, I'll bet. I'm pretty sure Hamburglar would even fuck one of those talking McNuggets, given the chance and enough dippin' sauce. He's cool, he's one bad ass Hamburglar mofo.
(I stole this picture from somewhere on the internets, so I cannot take credit for this in any way. Too bad...it's cracking me up.)
Where do these social dynamics leave Grimace? I'm not sure. He's always skulking around in the background, a big purple blur moving through the mean streets of McDonald Land. Sure, he seems like a jolly fellow, and he seems happy all the time--which is ironic, given his name-- but what lurks below that purple exterior and jointless arms? Does he go home to his lonely apartment on the bad side of town, cry himself to sleep on a filthy mattress and wishing he could manage to lose some of the weight he is forced to carry around on his overburdened frame? Did he ever have a girlfriend, or a real job? And what about hanging out with the guys? Sure, Ronald might have invited him over for beer and poker a couple of times, but then Grimace waddles over there to that fruit Ronald's house and sho'nuff... no one's there. Turns out they all went down to the McNugget's place at the last minute, and no one thought to tell Grimace. Happens ALL the time like this. Poor, sad and lonely Grimace.
Obviously, the untold story of the denizens of McDonald Land is one that is frought with turmoil, drama and heartache, and I for one would love to know more. I say bring them back, McDonalds. The people are crying out for it. Well, at least one people is, and that people is ME. And I matter. I'm special! And not just in that retard way that had me smelling Happy Meal boxes and marveling at minimum-wage employees who handed us bagged food through a sliding window.
I miss McDonalds... the McDonalds I knew as a kid, that is.
I know I can go to a McDonalds pretty much anytime I want now, but back when I was little, going to McDonalds was so damn awesome. I loved those french fries, and the hamburger wrapped in paper! I loved the white cups with the orange, yellow and brown "m" pattern going around the outside. I loved Happy Meals in those cool little boxes. It didn't even matter, always, what the toy/prize was; for some reason, I coveted the boxes themselves. The cardboard used in those boxes smelled good...kind of like the fries.
I miss McDonald Land. The old-school play areas with the Fry Guy rocking-horse things, and the big yellow slide. It was way cooler than the weird looking tunnels and ball crawls they have now. Well, maybe I would have thought otherwise if they had those things when I was that young, but all I know is the new McDonald Play Lands look kind of stupid. I can't explain it. It probably has something to do with the lack of Fry Guys. I loved those little bastards.
I used to think the concept of a drive-through was the shit. I wanted to work at a drive-through when I grew up. I loved how my Mom would talk through a speaker on a post, and we'd pull up and it turned out that someone behind a window, inside the building, had HEARD our order and had put it all together in white McDonalds bags for us to take away with us. This technology blew my young mind. I realize that it might make me sound like I was a little retarded as a kid, but whatever...think what you want. Maybe I was a retard. So be it. All I know is, I sure had a good time!
I can't believe the little things, like getting to have McDonalds for lunch, used to make my day back then. Now I feel like a loser when once more, I find myself sitting there in front of the stupid picture menu at the drive-through, giving the person on the other side of the intercom my order in a defeated voice... I mean, couldn't I have found some other option? Couldn't I go get a sandwich, or a salad, somewhere? No? Just gonna drive up, get my bag of McDonalds crap, and drive away and eat it all alone in a parking lot somewhere, ashamed of my blatant fat-ass American-ness. Sigh.
But come on now.
Those fries really are delicious.
One more thing... whatever happened to the Hamburglar? I am pretty confident when I say I think that their sales would go up if they brought back the Hamburglar and Grimace. And of course, Mayor McCheese! Think about it... if you knew you could see those three dudes when you went to McDonalds, wouldn't you want to go even more, just for the cool retro factor, if nothing else? Am I really alone in feeling this way?
I always wondered why Mayor McCheese never got to apprehend the Hamburglar. I think it's because in some ways, he admired the brazen and devious nature of the Hamburglar. He wished he, too, could slip around McDonald Land, wearing a mask and stealing hamburgers. But, instead, he was suckered into a public service job. I bet he had a wife and kids at home... some little burgers that were really mistakes at the time, but the Mayor loved them anyway. Mayor McCheese never got to have any fun. Sure, he might have been able to go get drunk at a happy hour with a couple of the Fry Guys from time to time, but for the sake of his public image, he had to keep that more or less on the down-low.
Yet that Hamburglar could run around in BROAD DAYLIGHT, stealing burgers from everyone, even that dipshit Ronald, right in front of people's faces. He probably got a lot of ass, too. Chicks in McDonald Land definitely liked the bad boys, I'll bet. I'm pretty sure Hamburglar would even fuck one of those talking McNuggets, given the chance and enough dippin' sauce. He's cool, he's one bad ass Hamburglar mofo.
(I stole this picture from somewhere on the internets, so I cannot take credit for this in any way. Too bad...it's cracking me up.)Where do these social dynamics leave Grimace? I'm not sure. He's always skulking around in the background, a big purple blur moving through the mean streets of McDonald Land. Sure, he seems like a jolly fellow, and he seems happy all the time--which is ironic, given his name-- but what lurks below that purple exterior and jointless arms? Does he go home to his lonely apartment on the bad side of town, cry himself to sleep on a filthy mattress and wishing he could manage to lose some of the weight he is forced to carry around on his overburdened frame? Did he ever have a girlfriend, or a real job? And what about hanging out with the guys? Sure, Ronald might have invited him over for beer and poker a couple of times, but then Grimace waddles over there to that fruit Ronald's house and sho'nuff... no one's there. Turns out they all went down to the McNugget's place at the last minute, and no one thought to tell Grimace. Happens ALL the time like this. Poor, sad and lonely Grimace.
Obviously, the untold story of the denizens of McDonald Land is one that is frought with turmoil, drama and heartache, and I for one would love to know more. I say bring them back, McDonalds. The people are crying out for it. Well, at least one people is, and that people is ME. And I matter. I'm special! And not just in that retard way that had me smelling Happy Meal boxes and marveling at minimum-wage employees who handed us bagged food through a sliding window.
Friday, September 07, 2007
Check out yesterday's blog post as it is filtered through the Dialectizer. Thanks, Diane, for the tip! Anyway, enjoy If It's Disgusting, Taste It! in JIVE. Right on!
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Waitress 
Last night, Greg and I went to see "Waitress" at the Cheapie Theater, and we were the only people in the theater. Possibly, at all. We didn't see one other patron. Just two chicks who worked there. It was kind of cool, but also sort of sad in a way I can't really explain. An empty movie theater just makes me feel that way.
The movie was what I expected it to be... sweet and cute, but with a dark side to it underneath that golden pie crust. Man, this movie talked about pies a lot. And most of the pies sounded like they wouldn't taste that great. But then again, I am very new to the pie culture in this country. Up until about two years ago, I'd only ever had a slice or two of pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving, and a random piece of french silk pie at the Village Inn here and there. I had no idea how awesome apple pie is until I had some with Greg back when we were dating. Whew. How I got along all those years without apple pie is beyond me.
I liked a lot of things about this movie. For one, I never realized how good an actress Keri Russell is. That's because I never saw an episode of Felicity, but then again, I never heard much about her acting on that show, either. I had no way of knowing how convincing she could be as a bitter waitress. Plus, she is really pretty. After watching her in a whole movie, it's really clear that the woman is gifted, genetically.
I also liked seeing Nathan Fillion again in a movie. I support his career. He was in the improv comedy show I dabbled in back in college, so it's still amazing to me to see him up on The Big Screen. Good for him! I still mourn the passing of Firefly, though... that show never got a fair shake.
But the main thing I walked away with was how terribly sad it is that Adrienne Shelly never lived to see this movie come out. And that she will never make another movie. She wrote, directed, and played one of the waitresses, and I really admired her obvious talent. There aren't nearly enough women writer/directors out there. I think some of the most subtle, beautiful movies come from women being behind the camera. Take Sarah Polley's "Away From Her." Talk about a movie that should just be crammed with cheap sentimentality, but instead takes a clear-eyed and honest approach to a tough subject (putting your wife in a home when she is suffering from Alzheimer's). It's a great movie.
I wish that Adrienne Shelly was still alive, and that her husband didn't have to set up a foundation to help other women filmmakers, and that she was working right now on her next film and people were interviewing her on Bravo or something... it's just not fair that her life could be snuffed out for no good reason.
Well, anyway, I don't want to bring you down. Instead, think about PIE. MMM! Pie is good! Especially when it's a la mode. Holy crap. I could go for that right now. That, and about three beers. Pie and beer = nutritious lunch for Lisa.
Last night, Greg and I went to see "Waitress" at the Cheapie Theater, and we were the only people in the theater. Possibly, at all. We didn't see one other patron. Just two chicks who worked there. It was kind of cool, but also sort of sad in a way I can't really explain. An empty movie theater just makes me feel that way.
The movie was what I expected it to be... sweet and cute, but with a dark side to it underneath that golden pie crust. Man, this movie talked about pies a lot. And most of the pies sounded like they wouldn't taste that great. But then again, I am very new to the pie culture in this country. Up until about two years ago, I'd only ever had a slice or two of pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving, and a random piece of french silk pie at the Village Inn here and there. I had no idea how awesome apple pie is until I had some with Greg back when we were dating. Whew. How I got along all those years without apple pie is beyond me.
I liked a lot of things about this movie. For one, I never realized how good an actress Keri Russell is. That's because I never saw an episode of Felicity, but then again, I never heard much about her acting on that show, either. I had no way of knowing how convincing she could be as a bitter waitress. Plus, she is really pretty. After watching her in a whole movie, it's really clear that the woman is gifted, genetically.
I also liked seeing Nathan Fillion again in a movie. I support his career. He was in the improv comedy show I dabbled in back in college, so it's still amazing to me to see him up on The Big Screen. Good for him! I still mourn the passing of Firefly, though... that show never got a fair shake.
But the main thing I walked away with was how terribly sad it is that Adrienne Shelly never lived to see this movie come out. And that she will never make another movie. She wrote, directed, and played one of the waitresses, and I really admired her obvious talent. There aren't nearly enough women writer/directors out there. I think some of the most subtle, beautiful movies come from women being behind the camera. Take Sarah Polley's "Away From Her." Talk about a movie that should just be crammed with cheap sentimentality, but instead takes a clear-eyed and honest approach to a tough subject (putting your wife in a home when she is suffering from Alzheimer's). It's a great movie.
I wish that Adrienne Shelly was still alive, and that her husband didn't have to set up a foundation to help other women filmmakers, and that she was working right now on her next film and people were interviewing her on Bravo or something... it's just not fair that her life could be snuffed out for no good reason.
Well, anyway, I don't want to bring you down. Instead, think about PIE. MMM! Pie is good! Especially when it's a la mode. Holy crap. I could go for that right now. That, and about three beers. Pie and beer = nutritious lunch for Lisa.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
I'm copying my sister right now. She re-posted some vintage blog stuff, and now I'm going to do it. Here's something I wrote back in March 2004. If I had to give this story a name, it would be: "The Roller Rink Hair Brush Incident":
Here's a story about myself that I always assume is funny:
I was about 11 years old, hanging out at the roller rink on a Saturday afternoon with my friend Tracy. After we'd skated around about 679 times, we decided to take a break from all the T'Pau and George Michael music and settle down at the snack bar for a Coke and some hot pretzels. (Mmmm, roller rink hot pretzels.) The tables were those cheap, formica-blend fake-wood printed tables with the formica-like plastic benches. Each table backed up to another table, so if I was sitting in one of the seats, someone was sitting with their back almost against mine at the table behind us. And so on, and so on... all of us cheesy roller skaters connected by the backs and butts. Not literally, of course, that would just be too much.
Anyway, I was highly concerned with growing my hair back in those days. I was a firm believer in the old "brush your hair often so it will grow faster" mantra, and carried a wooden-handled, round brush in my back pocket. This made sitting on my one asscheek kind of painful, but that's neither here nor there.
While Tracy and I were sitting there enjoying our snack and watching people skate past as "Life in a Northern Town" played from the DJ booth, I whipped out the brush and started brushing my hair. Brush, brush, brush. (Now I realize how gross it was that I was brushing my hair in an area where people were eating, but at the time, let's face it... I was a gross 11-year old with braces and a penchant for "banana clips". Ew)
All of the sudden, my brush hit a snag. A huge knot at the bottom of my hair. Well, I yanked and pulled on that brush and I couldn't get it through the snag. Right then I noticed Tracy's eyes get wide, and her expression turn to an "Oh, shit!" face. Through the strains of loud music, I heard a muffled scream behind me.
I let go of the brush and turned around. I see a large black woman with an Afro looking back at me, with my brush stuck in the back of her hair.
I don't remember what happened, what her reaction other than yelling was. But knowing how wussy I can be sometimes, I think I stammered, "I'm sorry!" in a tearful voice, and skated/ran away to the ladies room to cry in shame.
Lesson learned: Don't sit back to back with anyone with an Afro, ever. A lot of things besides brushes can get stuck in there eff'n ye don't watch out!
Here's a story about myself that I always assume is funny:
I was about 11 years old, hanging out at the roller rink on a Saturday afternoon with my friend Tracy. After we'd skated around about 679 times, we decided to take a break from all the T'Pau and George Michael music and settle down at the snack bar for a Coke and some hot pretzels. (Mmmm, roller rink hot pretzels.) The tables were those cheap, formica-blend fake-wood printed tables with the formica-like plastic benches. Each table backed up to another table, so if I was sitting in one of the seats, someone was sitting with their back almost against mine at the table behind us. And so on, and so on... all of us cheesy roller skaters connected by the backs and butts. Not literally, of course, that would just be too much.
Anyway, I was highly concerned with growing my hair back in those days. I was a firm believer in the old "brush your hair often so it will grow faster" mantra, and carried a wooden-handled, round brush in my back pocket. This made sitting on my one asscheek kind of painful, but that's neither here nor there.
While Tracy and I were sitting there enjoying our snack and watching people skate past as "Life in a Northern Town" played from the DJ booth, I whipped out the brush and started brushing my hair. Brush, brush, brush. (Now I realize how gross it was that I was brushing my hair in an area where people were eating, but at the time, let's face it... I was a gross 11-year old with braces and a penchant for "banana clips". Ew)
All of the sudden, my brush hit a snag. A huge knot at the bottom of my hair. Well, I yanked and pulled on that brush and I couldn't get it through the snag. Right then I noticed Tracy's eyes get wide, and her expression turn to an "Oh, shit!" face. Through the strains of loud music, I heard a muffled scream behind me.
I let go of the brush and turned around. I see a large black woman with an Afro looking back at me, with my brush stuck in the back of her hair.
I don't remember what happened, what her reaction other than yelling was. But knowing how wussy I can be sometimes, I think I stammered, "I'm sorry!" in a tearful voice, and skated/ran away to the ladies room to cry in shame.
Lesson learned: Don't sit back to back with anyone with an Afro, ever. A lot of things besides brushes can get stuck in there eff'n ye don't watch out!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)