A POOR SECOND TO BELGIUM
Here is today's relentless earworm. This song is stuck in my head soooo badly because my copy editor added the word "Finland" to a mention of Helsinki in an article. I want you--yes, YOU!-- to enjoy it, too!
Now I want to go listen to all the old Monty Python songs. See you later.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
GOOD, BAD & UGLY
A nice long weekend. Ahh. Here's how it went:
The GOOD:
* Finished reading "The Host." Loved it.
* Had lunch with my Mom on Saturday, followed by a hike on Piestewa Peak under overcast skies. (It was a great hike even though it was interrupted by reports of "a rattlesnake holding its ground" not far ahead of me on the trail; after standing there for a few minutes trying to decide if I was brave or not, I decided I wasn't, and headed back the way I came.)
* Enjoyed a nice BBQ with our friends Laura and David, and got to spend quality time with their almost-1-year-old, Dean.
* The weather held up nicely and it wasn't too hot.
The BAD:
* First and foremost: Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull. I was NOT amused by the mess they made of this movie. I went into it knowing it had received mixed reviews, so I admit I wasn't expecting to be blown away. But I didn't know I'd feel so bummed out when I left the theater! Indiana Jones himself seemed like he wasn't the same guy from the earlier movies; not as fun, not as interesting. Shia LeBeouf didn't work as his son...and his character was completely one-dimensional and I didn't feel like we got to know who he was at all. (Not to mention at one point he apparently communicates with monkeys and proceeds to swing through the jungle on vines-- completely and utterly ridiculous. The old IJ movies never would have done something THAT implausible and cartoonish.) Cate Blanchett's character wasn't an effective villain, plus she seemed like she was CGI herself she was that unbelievable... there were plot holes and inconsistencies all over the place, and not for a SECOND did I feel tense or think that the heroes weren't going to get out of whatever crazy situation they were in. Could it have been the CGI? Or poor writing? Or a deadly mixture of both? Who knows? I just want to forget about this particular IJ movie and convince myself that only 3 movies were ever made. Yuck.
* My own Indy can't control himself around babies, apparently. He kept wanting to play --roughly-- with our friends' baby. He wasn't being mean at all, just waaay too excited. He even leapt up and tried to grab the baby's foot at one point, and that was just too much for us to take. He was banished to the bedroom for the rest of their visit. Meanwhile, Hailie was a complete angel and she charmed the baby into the cutest thing: Dean held out a goldfish cracker to Hailie, who carefully took it from his tiny fingers as he smiled. So at least 1 out of 2 dogs isn't a total spazz.
The UGLY:
* On Sunday I made a terrible error regarding my skin: I thought I'd do some yardwork while wearing a sport camisole, and since I had a wicked farmer's tan going on, I slathered on the sunblock on the tanned spots, hoping to even things out while I was outside. Bad move.
First, I was outside for a longer period of time than it felt like: about two hours, that felt more like 45 minutes. The sun was at peak brightness, since it was around noon.
Second, I apparently don't know how to evenly apply sunblock, because you can see where it was applied thanks to the ragged, uneven edges to my horrific sunburn. One of the more humorous parts of the sunburn is the area around my tattoo, because I had wisely chosen to cover my tattoo with sunblock to prevent fading. The only problem is, you can see right where my fingers swiped the sunblock on, and I went way beyond the borders of the tattoo itself, even though I really thought I was careful to stay in the lines. It looks like I taped a piece of ripped paper over the tattoo.
Two days later, this burn is STILL bright red and still ultra painful. It's one of the worst burns I've ever had. Usually I get a mild burn that fades to a tan over the next day. Not this time. I woke up today hoping it would be faded somewhat and it's just as red as ever. This sucks. I wish I'd covered everything up.
* I forgot to do a couple of things I was supposed to do this week/weekend. So now I have to run around today and try to get them done. But I've got a ton of work to do; yet here I sit blogging because I can't seem to stay focused. Plus I have yet to hear back on some test results I am anxious to receive. So anyway, this ugliness today had better fade away as the day goes on...otherwise my bitchy side is sure to force even more ugliness onto the world and no one needs that!
A nice long weekend. Ahh. Here's how it went:
The GOOD:
* Finished reading "The Host." Loved it.
* Had lunch with my Mom on Saturday, followed by a hike on Piestewa Peak under overcast skies. (It was a great hike even though it was interrupted by reports of "a rattlesnake holding its ground" not far ahead of me on the trail; after standing there for a few minutes trying to decide if I was brave or not, I decided I wasn't, and headed back the way I came.)
* Enjoyed a nice BBQ with our friends Laura and David, and got to spend quality time with their almost-1-year-old, Dean.
* The weather held up nicely and it wasn't too hot.
The BAD:
* First and foremost: Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull. I was NOT amused by the mess they made of this movie. I went into it knowing it had received mixed reviews, so I admit I wasn't expecting to be blown away. But I didn't know I'd feel so bummed out when I left the theater! Indiana Jones himself seemed like he wasn't the same guy from the earlier movies; not as fun, not as interesting. Shia LeBeouf didn't work as his son...and his character was completely one-dimensional and I didn't feel like we got to know who he was at all. (Not to mention at one point he apparently communicates with monkeys and proceeds to swing through the jungle on vines-- completely and utterly ridiculous. The old IJ movies never would have done something THAT implausible and cartoonish.) Cate Blanchett's character wasn't an effective villain, plus she seemed like she was CGI herself she was that unbelievable... there were plot holes and inconsistencies all over the place, and not for a SECOND did I feel tense or think that the heroes weren't going to get out of whatever crazy situation they were in. Could it have been the CGI? Or poor writing? Or a deadly mixture of both? Who knows? I just want to forget about this particular IJ movie and convince myself that only 3 movies were ever made. Yuck.
* My own Indy can't control himself around babies, apparently. He kept wanting to play --roughly-- with our friends' baby. He wasn't being mean at all, just waaay too excited. He even leapt up and tried to grab the baby's foot at one point, and that was just too much for us to take. He was banished to the bedroom for the rest of their visit. Meanwhile, Hailie was a complete angel and she charmed the baby into the cutest thing: Dean held out a goldfish cracker to Hailie, who carefully took it from his tiny fingers as he smiled. So at least 1 out of 2 dogs isn't a total spazz.
The UGLY:
* On Sunday I made a terrible error regarding my skin: I thought I'd do some yardwork while wearing a sport camisole, and since I had a wicked farmer's tan going on, I slathered on the sunblock on the tanned spots, hoping to even things out while I was outside. Bad move.
First, I was outside for a longer period of time than it felt like: about two hours, that felt more like 45 minutes. The sun was at peak brightness, since it was around noon.
Second, I apparently don't know how to evenly apply sunblock, because you can see where it was applied thanks to the ragged, uneven edges to my horrific sunburn. One of the more humorous parts of the sunburn is the area around my tattoo, because I had wisely chosen to cover my tattoo with sunblock to prevent fading. The only problem is, you can see right where my fingers swiped the sunblock on, and I went way beyond the borders of the tattoo itself, even though I really thought I was careful to stay in the lines. It looks like I taped a piece of ripped paper over the tattoo.
Two days later, this burn is STILL bright red and still ultra painful. It's one of the worst burns I've ever had. Usually I get a mild burn that fades to a tan over the next day. Not this time. I woke up today hoping it would be faded somewhat and it's just as red as ever. This sucks. I wish I'd covered everything up.
* I forgot to do a couple of things I was supposed to do this week/weekend. So now I have to run around today and try to get them done. But I've got a ton of work to do; yet here I sit blogging because I can't seem to stay focused. Plus I have yet to hear back on some test results I am anxious to receive. So anyway, this ugliness today had better fade away as the day goes on...otherwise my bitchy side is sure to force even more ugliness onto the world and no one needs that!
Thursday, May 22, 2008
MIDDLE MANAGEMENT
RANT ON!
I'm annoyed today because people at my husband's place of employment are screwing around with him. It's a long story, but the point is that stupid middle management is trying to make a completely ass-backwards change just for the sake of making a change, and it's going to affect my husband negatively. The best part is they are trying to sell it to him by saying things to the point of "it will be good for him to learn new applications" and stuff like that. G's been in that department for 8 years and this new manager? Only one year. And he's made buckets of asinine decisions already because it's clear he doesn't understand how things work. So now this guy is proposing taking his best guy (G) off this team and throwing him on another. Without really giving G any input as to if he even wants to do this or not.
I will never understand how certain people get to become managers. I know some people only get the job because they have, say, a Masters degree; whereas someone with years of relevant experience with only a BA would get passed over for the same job. It doesn't matter that the Masters is about 30 years old, or that the skills aren't there to do the job properly... nope, there are minimum qualifications and damned if upper management isn't going to remember that first and foremost.
Or people are brought in from outside when perfectly capable people are sitting right there in the building already, just ripe for promotions. Or you get the passive aggressive managers, or the egotistical jerks only looking out for themselves even though they are responsible for managing a group of people, or the just plain stupid managers. That just don't know seem to have a clue about what they are supposed to be doing, and regularly go to their employees for help and 'ghostwork.' Man, the list goes on and on. And everyone knows a middle manager like this, EVERYONE has had to deal with some idiot at some point in their working career.
So why is it so widespread a problem? If we all know it's there, why does it keep on freakin' happening? Can't the pattern be broken? Can't managers be trained to improve? Shouldn't there be consequences for not doing their jobs or making poor decisions? I think so. I have to admit that I work in a place that does seem to try to keep a checks-and-balance atmosphere, but this company is not the norm. I guess I'm just really aware of the sins of the past places I've worked, and the places my loved ones STILL slave away at, now that I'm somewhere that does it correctly, 95% of the time. And having to watch this crap happen, knowing that people I care about are routinely getting the shaft, well...it makes me so angry I could spit. Hell. I WILL spit. Pptt. There!
Sometimes I want to go to my husband's place of work and just FIGHT his stupid manager. Like with fists. Just because someone needs to do it. And I'm just the person annoyed enough to go for it. For that matter, I wouldn't mind pulling my mom's boss aside either and giving her a piece of my mind. ("You don't take advantage of my mother that way! What the hell is the matter with you?")
If I'm ever a Mom, I wonder if I'll be one of those psycho mothers who flips out on the parents of other kids who wrong my kid somehow. Or if I'll fight with coaches or do other asshole crap like that. It's just that my temper can flare when the people I love are involved. I don't even like people LOOKING at my family the wrong way. The primal urge to attack, maim and maybe kill just comes on. I'm mostly calm and non-confrontational in real life, but inside I am screaming I WILL END YOU, YOU STUPID FUCK. And one day...I worry that I really will. Especially if I have a kid.
Oh, joy! A whole post about ANGER!! How delightful. I'm sure anyone reading this has loved it. I hope you have enjoyed this light-hearted yarn and will come back for more in the future. Next time I am going to write about elder abuse. Get ready for the feel-good post of the year!
RANT ON!
I'm annoyed today because people at my husband's place of employment are screwing around with him. It's a long story, but the point is that stupid middle management is trying to make a completely ass-backwards change just for the sake of making a change, and it's going to affect my husband negatively. The best part is they are trying to sell it to him by saying things to the point of "it will be good for him to learn new applications" and stuff like that. G's been in that department for 8 years and this new manager? Only one year. And he's made buckets of asinine decisions already because it's clear he doesn't understand how things work. So now this guy is proposing taking his best guy (G) off this team and throwing him on another. Without really giving G any input as to if he even wants to do this or not.
I will never understand how certain people get to become managers. I know some people only get the job because they have, say, a Masters degree; whereas someone with years of relevant experience with only a BA would get passed over for the same job. It doesn't matter that the Masters is about 30 years old, or that the skills aren't there to do the job properly... nope, there are minimum qualifications and damned if upper management isn't going to remember that first and foremost.
Or people are brought in from outside when perfectly capable people are sitting right there in the building already, just ripe for promotions. Or you get the passive aggressive managers, or the egotistical jerks only looking out for themselves even though they are responsible for managing a group of people, or the just plain stupid managers. That just don't know seem to have a clue about what they are supposed to be doing, and regularly go to their employees for help and 'ghostwork.' Man, the list goes on and on. And everyone knows a middle manager like this, EVERYONE has had to deal with some idiot at some point in their working career.
So why is it so widespread a problem? If we all know it's there, why does it keep on freakin' happening? Can't the pattern be broken? Can't managers be trained to improve? Shouldn't there be consequences for not doing their jobs or making poor decisions? I think so. I have to admit that I work in a place that does seem to try to keep a checks-and-balance atmosphere, but this company is not the norm. I guess I'm just really aware of the sins of the past places I've worked, and the places my loved ones STILL slave away at, now that I'm somewhere that does it correctly, 95% of the time. And having to watch this crap happen, knowing that people I care about are routinely getting the shaft, well...it makes me so angry I could spit. Hell. I WILL spit. Pptt. There!
Sometimes I want to go to my husband's place of work and just FIGHT his stupid manager. Like with fists. Just because someone needs to do it. And I'm just the person annoyed enough to go for it. For that matter, I wouldn't mind pulling my mom's boss aside either and giving her a piece of my mind. ("You don't take advantage of my mother that way! What the hell is the matter with you?")
If I'm ever a Mom, I wonder if I'll be one of those psycho mothers who flips out on the parents of other kids who wrong my kid somehow. Or if I'll fight with coaches or do other asshole crap like that. It's just that my temper can flare when the people I love are involved. I don't even like people LOOKING at my family the wrong way. The primal urge to attack, maim and maybe kill just comes on. I'm mostly calm and non-confrontational in real life, but inside I am screaming I WILL END YOU, YOU STUPID FUCK. And one day...I worry that I really will. Especially if I have a kid.
Oh, joy! A whole post about ANGER!! How delightful. I'm sure anyone reading this has loved it. I hope you have enjoyed this light-hearted yarn and will come back for more in the future. Next time I am going to write about elder abuse. Get ready for the feel-good post of the year!
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
SPINNING INWARD
I've had so much on my mind lately I'm wondering if the very force of my thinking is what is making me feel so physically exhausted these days. When I got home from the gym yesterday I made myself busy just so I wouldn't just lie down and sleep for a couple of hours (and then ruin my regular night's sleep). It could also be the heat; yesterday it broke a record by hitting 108. Whatever it is, I just know I'm not playing my best game right now.
I won't get into it, because seriously, no one wants to hear it and I don't want to share it. It's not like life is shitty right now, or anything terrible is going down; it's just that I'm spending lots of time in my own head and whether or not that's a good thing remains to be seen. Maybe I'll come out of it having figured some stuff out. Or I'll just continue to be the boring girl who just wants to sit quietly and read by herself.
Since I said that things aren't all so bad, here are some things that have made me happy in the past few days or so:
* Dogsitting Clara, our friend's dog, and having her follow our dogs' lead and sitting before going out or eating--and seeing her tail thump happily when I praised her for it
* Watching a matinee of Baby Mama on a hot day, after we'd spent the previous one working hard on our pergola to add a sunscreen-- it felt so nice to just sit in the cool darkness and laugh
* The way the pergola came out, because it looks so nice now
* Having some of the wildflowers bloom in my makeshift garden, and finding out Greg pulled some weeds out of there for me, which was really nice of him
* Getting a lot of articles recruited, edited and out for review
* Writing and re-writing Chapter 6 of my book-- this is good, of course, since it means I'm not giving up, but I do worry I am telling the story wrong and everything's going to wind up sucking-- but nope, this is a happy list, must stick with the I'm WRITING and THAT'S GOOD thing
* I painted my fingernails
* The fact that they brought Adam Carolla back to Phoenix radio a week or so ago, and how fun it is to listen to the show again!
* Listening to the dogs playing so loudly that I have to tell them to leave the room so I can concentrate
* Air conditioning and ice-cold water. And shade.
* The pesto Greg made last week is still super delicious
* Maybe braiding my hair is going to be my look for the summer
* The slightly lower number on the scale the other day
* The fact that my best friend is getting a dog today...a Chinese Crested puppy named Caesar! I can't wait to meet him in June when I go back to visit!
* Thoughts of the BlogBQ :)
* Reading The Host and not being able to put it down. Stephenie Meyer's writing makes me so happy and inspired! When I read her books (which are all incredible), all I want to do is go write my own and do my best to be even half as good as her
* Being super excited about the Twilight movie in December. Yeah, aren't we all?
* The little old man I saw helping his wife get out of the car today at Walgreens. He took her arm and before they walked across the parking lot, he kissed the top of her head. I smiled about it for a long time as I drove home. And smiling's the BEST.
I need some visuals now.
So here's the first (blurry) photo of my new nephew, Caesar:
The book I'm in the middle of:
My Dad and Trish, when they assaulted a metal bull a few years ago:
.JPG)
My sweet, unique little angel:
I've had so much on my mind lately I'm wondering if the very force of my thinking is what is making me feel so physically exhausted these days. When I got home from the gym yesterday I made myself busy just so I wouldn't just lie down and sleep for a couple of hours (and then ruin my regular night's sleep). It could also be the heat; yesterday it broke a record by hitting 108. Whatever it is, I just know I'm not playing my best game right now.
I won't get into it, because seriously, no one wants to hear it and I don't want to share it. It's not like life is shitty right now, or anything terrible is going down; it's just that I'm spending lots of time in my own head and whether or not that's a good thing remains to be seen. Maybe I'll come out of it having figured some stuff out. Or I'll just continue to be the boring girl who just wants to sit quietly and read by herself.
Since I said that things aren't all so bad, here are some things that have made me happy in the past few days or so:
* Dogsitting Clara, our friend's dog, and having her follow our dogs' lead and sitting before going out or eating--and seeing her tail thump happily when I praised her for it
* Watching a matinee of Baby Mama on a hot day, after we'd spent the previous one working hard on our pergola to add a sunscreen-- it felt so nice to just sit in the cool darkness and laugh
* The way the pergola came out, because it looks so nice now
* Having some of the wildflowers bloom in my makeshift garden, and finding out Greg pulled some weeds out of there for me, which was really nice of him
* Getting a lot of articles recruited, edited and out for review
* Writing and re-writing Chapter 6 of my book-- this is good, of course, since it means I'm not giving up, but I do worry I am telling the story wrong and everything's going to wind up sucking-- but nope, this is a happy list, must stick with the I'm WRITING and THAT'S GOOD thing
* I painted my fingernails
* The fact that they brought Adam Carolla back to Phoenix radio a week or so ago, and how fun it is to listen to the show again!
* Listening to the dogs playing so loudly that I have to tell them to leave the room so I can concentrate
* Air conditioning and ice-cold water. And shade.
* The pesto Greg made last week is still super delicious
* Maybe braiding my hair is going to be my look for the summer
* The slightly lower number on the scale the other day
* The fact that my best friend is getting a dog today...a Chinese Crested puppy named Caesar! I can't wait to meet him in June when I go back to visit!
* Thoughts of the BlogBQ :)
* Reading The Host and not being able to put it down. Stephenie Meyer's writing makes me so happy and inspired! When I read her books (which are all incredible), all I want to do is go write my own and do my best to be even half as good as her
* Being super excited about the Twilight movie in December. Yeah, aren't we all?
* The little old man I saw helping his wife get out of the car today at Walgreens. He took her arm and before they walked across the parking lot, he kissed the top of her head. I smiled about it for a long time as I drove home. And smiling's the BEST.
I need some visuals now.
So here's the first (blurry) photo of my new nephew, Caesar:
The book I'm in the middle of:
My Dad and Trish, when they assaulted a metal bull a few years ago:
.JPG)
My sweet, unique little angel:
Friday, May 16, 2008
HOW TO TELL IF THE ADULTS HATE YOU
I've had it with crappy toys. It seems like everyone's got a crappy toy story to tell. Someone once told me about the doll with no eyes her mom bought her at a yard sale. After I stopped laughing at her, I realized how traumatic getting a fabric doll with the button eyes torn off could be for an impressionable little tot. And then I felt sorry for the girl. Too little, too late...she jumped off the bridge anyway. Oh well.
No, that girl is probably still quite alive, for the record. I remember seeing her graduate from college the same day I did, so she at least made it that far. (Way to go, Rachel! That eyeless doll handicap couldn't hold ya down!)
Getting back to toys that suck:
I love this topic.
I love it because it calls to mind images of parents full of vitriol for their offspring. I think of the evil-mustached parents who secretly enjoy planting that fake monster under the bed or paying their neighbor to put pantyhose on his head and "kidnap" the kid on the way home from school. You know, as a joke. What? This sort of thing is frowned upon in our society? The hell you say!
My sister and I got bad toys from my one grandmother all the time. Actually, no... we didn't get bad toys, really, she simply stocked her HOUSE with bad toys and we got to "play" with them when we visited. Here is a quick list of some of the toys at Oma's house:
* Small decorative bottles (I'd make them talk out of boredom)
* Dried pasta
* Open bag of flour in the basement
* Picture frames
* A piece of wood with a man's face carved into it...the memory of which can make my piss run cold, I tell ya
* A blanket (I could make Trish sit on it and then pull her around on the carpet. Wheee!)
I remember bringing my record player to her house once and listening to my "The Fox and the Hound" record and having her lecture me on the volume. She made me turn down The Fox and the Effin' HOUND. Who does that?! Cripes! Not cool, Oma.
That's enough about her for today, though. Today I want to talk about my INVISIBLE DOG!
Yep, I had one of those things. A lovely wire with a dog collar attached to the end. I could spend hours walking my invisible dog if it so pleased me. Oh, the frivolity inherent in the INVISIBLE DOG toy!
What a stupid thing to give a kid. Seriously. I know they were popular in the 70s and early 80s, but why? What is so stimulating to a growing child about a wire leash with no real animal attached? Is it to train kids early on ironic comedy or something? Or perhaps learn to weather the many taunts one endures over the course of a lifetime ("you're crazy," "you're a schizo freak," "how did you get out of the locked ward past Jell-O Treat Hour?")?
But I was kind of a stupid kid, so I think I liked my idiotic invisible dog. I seem to recall walking my invisible dog through the mall. PROUDLY.
I bet I tried to feed the invisible dog. And brush it. I know I would have wanted to do those things. Food was essential in all play-games. I wonder if I fixed it a nice plate of invisible bologna, or if I took actual food from our actual dog and set it in front of my invisible dog so it could have a proper dinner. And I wonder if I was surprised when the food went uneaten. Oh no! Maybe my invisible dog is SICK! Maybe the food's gone bad! What are you trying to tell me, Boy? Huh? Is the house gonna blow up? Who threw what down what well? Talk to me, Boy!
Now, I wonder how long it was before the novelty of the invisible dog wore off. I sincerely hope it didn't last for, say, longer than a week. If I had a time machine, and could go back and find out how much time passed before I hung the invisible dog up on a hook to die, I might not do it because I am a little concerned about what I might find out. I might find out I was a Grade A Retard who brought that thing to school and everything. I might have named it, bought it a little hat. Might have introduced it to everyone I met, asked everyone to pet it. And as a result, my poor, disappointed parents might have had some long, hushed talks in their room at night, trying to figure out the best possible place along the highway to abandon me so I could be raised by street people. Or squirrels. Whichever wanted me first.
The best toys for kids? That's easy: An empty box big enough to hide inside; a stick; some string.
Those three things will serve a kid well.
I accidentally typed "sever a kid well" back there. And now I forgot what the rest of my blog was supposed to be about. This is another reason why I am going to be on medication the rest of my stupid life-- I laugh for 20 minutes at a typo involving the killing of children using a box, some string and a stick.
"Pour the gin, Lydia. I'm on my way home."
I've had it with crappy toys. It seems like everyone's got a crappy toy story to tell. Someone once told me about the doll with no eyes her mom bought her at a yard sale. After I stopped laughing at her, I realized how traumatic getting a fabric doll with the button eyes torn off could be for an impressionable little tot. And then I felt sorry for the girl. Too little, too late...she jumped off the bridge anyway. Oh well.
No, that girl is probably still quite alive, for the record. I remember seeing her graduate from college the same day I did, so she at least made it that far. (Way to go, Rachel! That eyeless doll handicap couldn't hold ya down!)
Getting back to toys that suck:
I love this topic.
I love it because it calls to mind images of parents full of vitriol for their offspring. I think of the evil-mustached parents who secretly enjoy planting that fake monster under the bed or paying their neighbor to put pantyhose on his head and "kidnap" the kid on the way home from school. You know, as a joke. What? This sort of thing is frowned upon in our society? The hell you say!
My sister and I got bad toys from my one grandmother all the time. Actually, no... we didn't get bad toys, really, she simply stocked her HOUSE with bad toys and we got to "play" with them when we visited. Here is a quick list of some of the toys at Oma's house:
* Small decorative bottles (I'd make them talk out of boredom)
* Dried pasta
* Open bag of flour in the basement
* Picture frames
* A piece of wood with a man's face carved into it...the memory of which can make my piss run cold, I tell ya
* A blanket (I could make Trish sit on it and then pull her around on the carpet. Wheee!)
I remember bringing my record player to her house once and listening to my "The Fox and the Hound" record and having her lecture me on the volume. She made me turn down The Fox and the Effin' HOUND. Who does that?! Cripes! Not cool, Oma.
That's enough about her for today, though. Today I want to talk about my INVISIBLE DOG!
Yep, I had one of those things. A lovely wire with a dog collar attached to the end. I could spend hours walking my invisible dog if it so pleased me. Oh, the frivolity inherent in the INVISIBLE DOG toy!
What a stupid thing to give a kid. Seriously. I know they were popular in the 70s and early 80s, but why? What is so stimulating to a growing child about a wire leash with no real animal attached? Is it to train kids early on ironic comedy or something? Or perhaps learn to weather the many taunts one endures over the course of a lifetime ("you're crazy," "you're a schizo freak," "how did you get out of the locked ward past Jell-O Treat Hour?")?
But I was kind of a stupid kid, so I think I liked my idiotic invisible dog. I seem to recall walking my invisible dog through the mall. PROUDLY.
I bet I tried to feed the invisible dog. And brush it. I know I would have wanted to do those things. Food was essential in all play-games. I wonder if I fixed it a nice plate of invisible bologna, or if I took actual food from our actual dog and set it in front of my invisible dog so it could have a proper dinner. And I wonder if I was surprised when the food went uneaten. Oh no! Maybe my invisible dog is SICK! Maybe the food's gone bad! What are you trying to tell me, Boy? Huh? Is the house gonna blow up? Who threw what down what well? Talk to me, Boy!
Now, I wonder how long it was before the novelty of the invisible dog wore off. I sincerely hope it didn't last for, say, longer than a week. If I had a time machine, and could go back and find out how much time passed before I hung the invisible dog up on a hook to die, I might not do it because I am a little concerned about what I might find out. I might find out I was a Grade A Retard who brought that thing to school and everything. I might have named it, bought it a little hat. Might have introduced it to everyone I met, asked everyone to pet it. And as a result, my poor, disappointed parents might have had some long, hushed talks in their room at night, trying to figure out the best possible place along the highway to abandon me so I could be raised by street people. Or squirrels. Whichever wanted me first.
The best toys for kids? That's easy: An empty box big enough to hide inside; a stick; some string.
Those three things will serve a kid well.
I accidentally typed "sever a kid well" back there. And now I forgot what the rest of my blog was supposed to be about. This is another reason why I am going to be on medication the rest of my stupid life-- I laugh for 20 minutes at a typo involving the killing of children using a box, some string and a stick.
"Pour the gin, Lydia. I'm on my way home."
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
IT'S CLIPTASTIC!
It's been a long time coming, but I can finally announce that we have a 1947 FLXIBLE Clipper bus of our own now.
Well, it's really a joint ownership thing between Greg and his college friends...but it is living in our backyard now as Greg finishes restoring it into an RV. It's an investment. These things, when they are finished, can sell for 50K or more! And he only paid $6K for this one. It was a smoking deal.
A small part of me is, "Ehh...now we have a BUS. In our BACKYARD"...and the other part of me is totally geeking out on how cool it is to actually own one of these things. Back when I worked on Bus Ride magazine, we ran an annual photo contest and I had a tendency to choose FLXIBLE buses as the winners. I love them. They're just neat old buses. People convert them into cool retro RVs-- and I admit I kind of daydreamed about possibly hunting one down one day for myself. Little did I know one day I'd marry a guy who'd hunt one down. And here it is:
What started this whole interest in FLXIBLEs for Greg was when we stayed at the Shady Dell in Bisbee, AZ, the night after our wedding. We stayed in the Tiki Bus, if you will recall...and it made quite an impression! Now here we are a year and a half later, with a bus to take apart and covert ourselves. (I probably won't do much on it, really, unless he asks me to help since I am kind of afraid of messing up something this antique.)
We tried to pick the bus up a month ago, but it broke down only 10 minutes later as we drove out of town. (We bought it from a great guy named Dave in Hesperia, CA... a good 5 1/2 hours from home.) So we had to leave it there while Dave did some more repairs on it to get it road-worthy. Finally, it was ready to go this past weekend, so on Friday, Greg and I drove out to Hesperia once more, stayed in a hotel for a night, and drove over to Dave's in the morning to pick up the bus. We've gotten to really like this Dave guy-- he owns a FLXIBLE, of course, and his son Jason has one, and his other son has an old Greyhound bus converted into an incredibly cool Elvis Bus... clearly it's a family obsession. Dave just became a grandfather for the first time a week ago, so we brought the baby girl a gift, too. Why not, we figured. They're just really nice people.
Of course getting the bus HOME wasn't easy. It was fraught with peril, literally! First, the bus overheated two hours into the drive home. It was an extending uphill climb that did it in, so we had to pull over and let the temperature drop down to at least 170 again (it hit 240!). That was really no big deal. Then, we made it to Quartsite, AZ, which is just over the border of CA. We needed gas. As Greg pulled up to the tanks, and I sat in my car a ways back so he had room to maneuver, all the sudden I notice FIRE under the bus.
The bus. was. on. FIRE.
And Greg is driving towards the gas pumps! Holy SHIT.
A lot of screaming and running towards the bus happened next, as I rightly freaked out and tried to catch his attention so he could stop driving towards the pumps AND get the hell out of the bus. Other people saw it, too, and started running and screaming. Finally, he figured out what was happening, shut the bus down and jumped out with a fire extinguisher and put the fire out.
It turned out a hose for the power steering fluid had blown apart. Since the engine was so hot, the fluid caught fire as it dripped out. Nothing exploded. Everyone was OK.
Well...
Until the BEES showed up, that is.
A truck pulled into the gas station while this was going on, and this truck was apparently carrying food, or something that attracts pollinating insects. And that meant a swarm of bees came with it. These bees proceeded to swarm and attack everyone at the gas station. The guys trying to throw saw dust down on the steering fluid and clean up were chased and stung... people at the pumps were hollering and getting attacked... yeah, just what we need while trying to deal with a burning 1947 bus blocking some gas pumps. Fun. At one point about an hour later, I looked around at the chaos and thought: "Is this really my life?" :)
Greg somehow managed to MacGuyver the bus back into action. He fixed it right there in the parking lot, ruining his favorite T shirt in the process, unfortunately...but the important thing was it was operable again. Amazingly, the whole time he was out there in Crazy Bee Country, he didn't get stung at all. And I didn't either...even though they were landing in my hair, on my neck and at one point, on my eyelid...! Not sure how we got so lucky given the magnitude of that swarm. Towards the end, I was forced to hide in my car and watch poor Greg from a distance as he labored under the bus. I had no choice, though. I couldn't exactly help him at that point, since I am not a mechanic even though I was fathered by one; and the bees were getting really touchy-feely by that point and I needed to flee.
We got the bus home many hours later, finally. On Sunday Greg spent the day moving the gate so the bus will fit in the backyard, alongside the house. It's strange seeing this old bus there... Hailie and Indy loved exploring the whole thing when we finally let them out to do a walk/sniffaround. Indy made me laugh because he systematically moved around the entire bus, smelling everything and checking it out like he was some sort of safety inspector. He's going to be a cool RV dog. I know it.
So that's the bus story, and how I spent my weekend.
Other than that, yes...I was in St. Louis, and it was a decent time overall. Even though I was busy non-stop and had a few points where I literally passed out the second my head hit the pillow at the end of the day, for a work function it wasn't too bad. Then again, my company knows what they're doing and that helps a lot in making life a little more tolerable in these situations. I got to know several more of my co-workers on this trip (people I don't normally cross paths with since we're in different departments), and went to the top of the St. Louis Arch like a good tourist before we left town.
I liked St. Louis, from what I experienced, because the downtown was full of old buildings and interesting architecture; the people were pretty friendly and nice; and they have mass transit. I don't underestimate the power of trains, and use them whenever I can when I travel to a city lucky enough to have them. I know they're kind of gross sometimes, and can be packed with weird people, but seriously... so cheap! So efficient! I love that. I'll be in Phoenix 10 years next month, and I still can't believe the lack of decent mass transit in a city this enormous. We have buses, but oh my GOD. They're not easy to navigate. I remember I once wrote an editor letter about how difficult it was to map a route from my home to the office, because the system would have required me to transfer buses about 4 times and a drive that would normally take me 20 minutes by car would take almost two HOURS by bus. And as of this writing, there are NO TRAINS.
Oh, we're supposed to be all excited because the light rail system they've been building for about 4 years now is finally going to be operational in December. Don't get me wrong, I am excited for myself because I am fortunate enough to live near the line, but I am still not impressed because it's going to cover such a small area of the Valley. It'll connect Mesa to downtown Phoenix. Ok, I know, that's great, really! But damn... Phoenix is nothing but miles and miles of SPRAWL. In every direction. Traffic is terrible, everywhere. The lightrail is going to be a bandaid on a massive, gushing wound. I guess it's better than nothing, and it IS a start. I just can't fathom how a city can explode to this size with no real planning regarding mass transit. I think a train should have been installed decades ago, had anyone thought ahead and tracked population trends. Oh, well. Sure we have over 300 days of sunshine a year, but all that sun can warp brains, apparently.
Wow, I really railed on for awhile there about trains, huh? Get it?
It's good to be back to the blog. I missed my stupid thoughts, vomited all over the keyboard like this. Ahhh. Word vomit.
It's been a long time coming, but I can finally announce that we have a 1947 FLXIBLE Clipper bus of our own now.
Well, it's really a joint ownership thing between Greg and his college friends...but it is living in our backyard now as Greg finishes restoring it into an RV. It's an investment. These things, when they are finished, can sell for 50K or more! And he only paid $6K for this one. It was a smoking deal.
A small part of me is, "Ehh...now we have a BUS. In our BACKYARD"...and the other part of me is totally geeking out on how cool it is to actually own one of these things. Back when I worked on Bus Ride magazine, we ran an annual photo contest and I had a tendency to choose FLXIBLE buses as the winners. I love them. They're just neat old buses. People convert them into cool retro RVs-- and I admit I kind of daydreamed about possibly hunting one down one day for myself. Little did I know one day I'd marry a guy who'd hunt one down. And here it is:
What started this whole interest in FLXIBLEs for Greg was when we stayed at the Shady Dell in Bisbee, AZ, the night after our wedding. We stayed in the Tiki Bus, if you will recall...and it made quite an impression! Now here we are a year and a half later, with a bus to take apart and covert ourselves. (I probably won't do much on it, really, unless he asks me to help since I am kind of afraid of messing up something this antique.)
We tried to pick the bus up a month ago, but it broke down only 10 minutes later as we drove out of town. (We bought it from a great guy named Dave in Hesperia, CA... a good 5 1/2 hours from home.) So we had to leave it there while Dave did some more repairs on it to get it road-worthy. Finally, it was ready to go this past weekend, so on Friday, Greg and I drove out to Hesperia once more, stayed in a hotel for a night, and drove over to Dave's in the morning to pick up the bus. We've gotten to really like this Dave guy-- he owns a FLXIBLE, of course, and his son Jason has one, and his other son has an old Greyhound bus converted into an incredibly cool Elvis Bus... clearly it's a family obsession. Dave just became a grandfather for the first time a week ago, so we brought the baby girl a gift, too. Why not, we figured. They're just really nice people.
Of course getting the bus HOME wasn't easy. It was fraught with peril, literally! First, the bus overheated two hours into the drive home. It was an extending uphill climb that did it in, so we had to pull over and let the temperature drop down to at least 170 again (it hit 240!). That was really no big deal. Then, we made it to Quartsite, AZ, which is just over the border of CA. We needed gas. As Greg pulled up to the tanks, and I sat in my car a ways back so he had room to maneuver, all the sudden I notice FIRE under the bus.
The bus. was. on. FIRE.
And Greg is driving towards the gas pumps! Holy SHIT.
A lot of screaming and running towards the bus happened next, as I rightly freaked out and tried to catch his attention so he could stop driving towards the pumps AND get the hell out of the bus. Other people saw it, too, and started running and screaming. Finally, he figured out what was happening, shut the bus down and jumped out with a fire extinguisher and put the fire out.
It turned out a hose for the power steering fluid had blown apart. Since the engine was so hot, the fluid caught fire as it dripped out. Nothing exploded. Everyone was OK.
Well...
Until the BEES showed up, that is.
A truck pulled into the gas station while this was going on, and this truck was apparently carrying food, or something that attracts pollinating insects. And that meant a swarm of bees came with it. These bees proceeded to swarm and attack everyone at the gas station. The guys trying to throw saw dust down on the steering fluid and clean up were chased and stung... people at the pumps were hollering and getting attacked... yeah, just what we need while trying to deal with a burning 1947 bus blocking some gas pumps. Fun. At one point about an hour later, I looked around at the chaos and thought: "Is this really my life?" :)
Greg somehow managed to MacGuyver the bus back into action. He fixed it right there in the parking lot, ruining his favorite T shirt in the process, unfortunately...but the important thing was it was operable again. Amazingly, the whole time he was out there in Crazy Bee Country, he didn't get stung at all. And I didn't either...even though they were landing in my hair, on my neck and at one point, on my eyelid...! Not sure how we got so lucky given the magnitude of that swarm. Towards the end, I was forced to hide in my car and watch poor Greg from a distance as he labored under the bus. I had no choice, though. I couldn't exactly help him at that point, since I am not a mechanic even though I was fathered by one; and the bees were getting really touchy-feely by that point and I needed to flee.
We got the bus home many hours later, finally. On Sunday Greg spent the day moving the gate so the bus will fit in the backyard, alongside the house. It's strange seeing this old bus there... Hailie and Indy loved exploring the whole thing when we finally let them out to do a walk/sniffaround. Indy made me laugh because he systematically moved around the entire bus, smelling everything and checking it out like he was some sort of safety inspector. He's going to be a cool RV dog. I know it.
So that's the bus story, and how I spent my weekend.
Other than that, yes...I was in St. Louis, and it was a decent time overall. Even though I was busy non-stop and had a few points where I literally passed out the second my head hit the pillow at the end of the day, for a work function it wasn't too bad. Then again, my company knows what they're doing and that helps a lot in making life a little more tolerable in these situations. I got to know several more of my co-workers on this trip (people I don't normally cross paths with since we're in different departments), and went to the top of the St. Louis Arch like a good tourist before we left town.
I liked St. Louis, from what I experienced, because the downtown was full of old buildings and interesting architecture; the people were pretty friendly and nice; and they have mass transit. I don't underestimate the power of trains, and use them whenever I can when I travel to a city lucky enough to have them. I know they're kind of gross sometimes, and can be packed with weird people, but seriously... so cheap! So efficient! I love that. I'll be in Phoenix 10 years next month, and I still can't believe the lack of decent mass transit in a city this enormous. We have buses, but oh my GOD. They're not easy to navigate. I remember I once wrote an editor letter about how difficult it was to map a route from my home to the office, because the system would have required me to transfer buses about 4 times and a drive that would normally take me 20 minutes by car would take almost two HOURS by bus. And as of this writing, there are NO TRAINS.
Oh, we're supposed to be all excited because the light rail system they've been building for about 4 years now is finally going to be operational in December. Don't get me wrong, I am excited for myself because I am fortunate enough to live near the line, but I am still not impressed because it's going to cover such a small area of the Valley. It'll connect Mesa to downtown Phoenix. Ok, I know, that's great, really! But damn... Phoenix is nothing but miles and miles of SPRAWL. In every direction. Traffic is terrible, everywhere. The lightrail is going to be a bandaid on a massive, gushing wound. I guess it's better than nothing, and it IS a start. I just can't fathom how a city can explode to this size with no real planning regarding mass transit. I think a train should have been installed decades ago, had anyone thought ahead and tracked population trends. Oh, well. Sure we have over 300 days of sunshine a year, but all that sun can warp brains, apparently.
Wow, I really railed on for awhile there about trains, huh? Get it?
It's good to be back to the blog. I missed my stupid thoughts, vomited all over the keyboard like this. Ahhh. Word vomit.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
HOW MUCH JOY CAN YOU STAND?!
A few years ago my sister and I had way too much fun reading aloud the names of courses at the local community college. Don't let ANYONE tell you we don't know how to party like rock stars. Because it isn't true... we are hard-core and we'll mess your shit up, without a doubt.
Anyway. Where was I? Oh, yeah. The names of the courses were great. There was "Baking Bread...And Beyond!" (Have you ever read a more exciting bread-making class title in your life?! It makes me think of Buzz Lightyear, baking bread like an astronaut on speed made out of yeast). Another one was "Sew It Yourself!" (yeah, that's right, lardass...time to darn your own socks, already). My favorite was a course on appreciation (or something)... "How Much Joy Can You Stand?"
Think about that for a minute. How much joy can YOU stand? I think I can stand quite a bit of joy, myself. I'm not the type of heartless bastard who shoves happy people down in the street because I just cannot tolerate that happiness shit for one. second. longer. Nah. I'm OK with joy. The only thing is, it makes me think of Joy dishwashing detergent. And now that I think about it, I do have limits when it comes to Joy dishwashing detergent. There's only so much I can drink before the violent diarrhea sets in. Whew, boy.
You might be wondering why Judy Garland and a bunch of other JOYFUL fruits are gracing the top of this blog post. They're caught mid-song in a scene from "Meet Me in St. Louis," and today I leave for St. Louis. So I'm commemorating it with happy assholes on a trolley or whatever. (I'm not going to be able to blog for days and days, just FYI so you have the 411 and won't have to put out an APB to find lil' old me.)
BIG INCREDIBLE NEWS!
If we were playing the 7 Degrees of Tina Fey, I'm one degree away. Turns out my best friend's father is her driver. Last night, he was even on 30 Rock ("Sandwich Day") as one of the teamsters. He was the one in the orange sweater, if you happened to Tivo it. I am so proud of him, and excited as hell about this connection I hadn't even realized existed in the first place. Here I am loving this crazy-smart bitch Ms. Fey, and now it turns out she's someone I could potentially meet some time, according to my friend anyway. I guess Tina Fey is as cool in person as you think she'd be. Dude...my friend even helped Tina pick out her dress for the Emmys this year. And no, that's not a joke at all. It's true. That's just all kinds of cool.
Well, that's all I have for now. I must retire for the eve, for in the morning I have to go to the airport and experience the JOY of air travel. There's a limit to how much plane-joy I can stand, I realize. Let's hope I don't have to sit near any more practicing Jews for this flight, or I'm going to be fishing the hell out of someone's gefilte.
I don't even know what I am talking about anymore.
At all.
A few years ago my sister and I had way too much fun reading aloud the names of courses at the local community college. Don't let ANYONE tell you we don't know how to party like rock stars. Because it isn't true... we are hard-core and we'll mess your shit up, without a doubt.
Anyway. Where was I? Oh, yeah. The names of the courses were great. There was "Baking Bread...And Beyond!" (Have you ever read a more exciting bread-making class title in your life?! It makes me think of Buzz Lightyear, baking bread like an astronaut on speed made out of yeast). Another one was "Sew It Yourself!" (yeah, that's right, lardass...time to darn your own socks, already). My favorite was a course on appreciation (or something)... "How Much Joy Can You Stand?"
Think about that for a minute. How much joy can YOU stand? I think I can stand quite a bit of joy, myself. I'm not the type of heartless bastard who shoves happy people down in the street because I just cannot tolerate that happiness shit for one. second. longer. Nah. I'm OK with joy. The only thing is, it makes me think of Joy dishwashing detergent. And now that I think about it, I do have limits when it comes to Joy dishwashing detergent. There's only so much I can drink before the violent diarrhea sets in. Whew, boy.
You might be wondering why Judy Garland and a bunch of other JOYFUL fruits are gracing the top of this blog post. They're caught mid-song in a scene from "Meet Me in St. Louis," and today I leave for St. Louis. So I'm commemorating it with happy assholes on a trolley or whatever. (I'm not going to be able to blog for days and days, just FYI so you have the 411 and won't have to put out an APB to find lil' old me.)
BIG INCREDIBLE NEWS!
If we were playing the 7 Degrees of Tina Fey, I'm one degree away. Turns out my best friend's father is her driver. Last night, he was even on 30 Rock ("Sandwich Day") as one of the teamsters. He was the one in the orange sweater, if you happened to Tivo it. I am so proud of him, and excited as hell about this connection I hadn't even realized existed in the first place. Here I am loving this crazy-smart bitch Ms. Fey, and now it turns out she's someone I could potentially meet some time, according to my friend anyway. I guess Tina Fey is as cool in person as you think she'd be. Dude...my friend even helped Tina pick out her dress for the Emmys this year. And no, that's not a joke at all. It's true. That's just all kinds of cool.
Well, that's all I have for now. I must retire for the eve, for in the morning I have to go to the airport and experience the JOY of air travel. There's a limit to how much plane-joy I can stand, I realize. Let's hope I don't have to sit near any more practicing Jews for this flight, or I'm going to be fishing the hell out of someone's gefilte.
I don't even know what I am talking about anymore.
At all.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
SMACKED IN THE HEAD BY THE THRILLER HIMSELF
I’m so busy right now, trying to finish up some work before I leave on another business trip, but something calls to me to come here and blog anyway. Why does that happen? Why, when I know I am pressed for time, do I do this? Is it stress-relieving to write about Pee-Wee Herman? I don’t know.
Anyway, I was tagged by Leezer to do this thing where you post 6 random things about yourself and then find 6 other people who haven’t done it yet and get them to do the same. Since I really adore Leezer (we share a love for Chris Elliott as well as the same awesome first name), I’m doing it even though I’m pretty sure I have already written every single random thing I can think of about myself on this blog over the past 5 years. But hell, let’s see what happens when I give it a go. I have no clue what I’m going to write after this sentence, so it will be interesting to see what my brain pukes out.
Here’s what you do: Post the rules on your blog, which are:
- Write six random things about yourself in a blog post
- Tag six people in your post
- Let each person know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog
- Let the tagger know your entry is up
Next, write your 6 things (duh). Here goes…
1) I won a framed glittery picture of Michael Jackson at one of those boardwalk stands with the big wheel that spins around and if it lands on the same number that you’d plunked your quarter down on, you won some crappy treasure. It was around 1984, so a likeness of Michael Jackson as he looked on the cover of “Thriller,” rendered in glitter-infused paint and placed in a tacky thick wooden frame was pretty much THE prize to choose! I hung it over my headboard when my sister and I had bunk beds. I was on the bottom. One night, the picture fell down for some reason and hit me in the head. It hurt a lot, and it sucks to be woken up with a head wound from a falling Michael Jackson picture.
2) Whenever I travel for work, and have to attend a morning meeting or workshop, there is always a strong chance that I will nod off sitting there in my chair. Even if I go to bed early the night before, and even if I eat a healthy breakfast…about an hour in, I drop out. It’s always when I am trying to take notes, too, so I end up with these drawn-out, scrawling messes that run off the page when I start to fall asleep. Later I can’t tell what I was writing. Not just because of the bad sleepy penmanship, but because when I’m like that I only capture certain words or phrases that, put together later, make no sense at all. Since I’m going to a five day conference next week, this morning nod-off is something I’m dreading right now in a big way.
3) There is a brand-new combination lock in my house right now that I cannot find. Yet I know I have come across it several times when I have not been looking for it. But every time I look for it (so I can change clothes at the gym and lock my stuff up), there is no way in hell I’ll find it.
4) I don’t mind drinking room temperature water straight from the filter at the sink.
5) Even though he sheds very badly and his nails can scratch me, I love picking Indy up and holding him like he was a smaller dog. I’ll also let him hop up onto my lap when I’m sitting at my desk, or I will lie on the floor and let him flop down on me. I like cuddling with that damn dog.
6) My friend D told me today that I made an “angry Strawberry Shortcake face” while we were talking. So apparently I can look like a plastic doll from the 80s (because we are not talking about the newly-redesigned 21st century Strawberry Shortcake, in the “Kristy McNichol clothes,” another great description by D). Sweet!
By the way, this took ALL DAY to actually get up here. So there was effort involved, just so you know.
I hereby tag: Trish, Fraulein N, Monotonous Life, Vegas Princess, Shades and Dot. And now, as Shakespeare would say, “Go to!”
I’m so busy right now, trying to finish up some work before I leave on another business trip, but something calls to me to come here and blog anyway. Why does that happen? Why, when I know I am pressed for time, do I do this? Is it stress-relieving to write about Pee-Wee Herman? I don’t know.
Anyway, I was tagged by Leezer to do this thing where you post 6 random things about yourself and then find 6 other people who haven’t done it yet and get them to do the same. Since I really adore Leezer (we share a love for Chris Elliott as well as the same awesome first name), I’m doing it even though I’m pretty sure I have already written every single random thing I can think of about myself on this blog over the past 5 years. But hell, let’s see what happens when I give it a go. I have no clue what I’m going to write after this sentence, so it will be interesting to see what my brain pukes out.
Here’s what you do: Post the rules on your blog, which are:
- Write six random things about yourself in a blog post
- Tag six people in your post
- Let each person know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog
- Let the tagger know your entry is up
Next, write your 6 things (duh). Here goes…
1) I won a framed glittery picture of Michael Jackson at one of those boardwalk stands with the big wheel that spins around and if it lands on the same number that you’d plunked your quarter down on, you won some crappy treasure. It was around 1984, so a likeness of Michael Jackson as he looked on the cover of “Thriller,” rendered in glitter-infused paint and placed in a tacky thick wooden frame was pretty much THE prize to choose! I hung it over my headboard when my sister and I had bunk beds. I was on the bottom. One night, the picture fell down for some reason and hit me in the head. It hurt a lot, and it sucks to be woken up with a head wound from a falling Michael Jackson picture.
2) Whenever I travel for work, and have to attend a morning meeting or workshop, there is always a strong chance that I will nod off sitting there in my chair. Even if I go to bed early the night before, and even if I eat a healthy breakfast…about an hour in, I drop out. It’s always when I am trying to take notes, too, so I end up with these drawn-out, scrawling messes that run off the page when I start to fall asleep. Later I can’t tell what I was writing. Not just because of the bad sleepy penmanship, but because when I’m like that I only capture certain words or phrases that, put together later, make no sense at all. Since I’m going to a five day conference next week, this morning nod-off is something I’m dreading right now in a big way.
3) There is a brand-new combination lock in my house right now that I cannot find. Yet I know I have come across it several times when I have not been looking for it. But every time I look for it (so I can change clothes at the gym and lock my stuff up), there is no way in hell I’ll find it.
4) I don’t mind drinking room temperature water straight from the filter at the sink.
5) Even though he sheds very badly and his nails can scratch me, I love picking Indy up and holding him like he was a smaller dog. I’ll also let him hop up onto my lap when I’m sitting at my desk, or I will lie on the floor and let him flop down on me. I like cuddling with that damn dog.
6) My friend D told me today that I made an “angry Strawberry Shortcake face” while we were talking. So apparently I can look like a plastic doll from the 80s (because we are not talking about the newly-redesigned 21st century Strawberry Shortcake, in the “Kristy McNichol clothes,” another great description by D). Sweet!
By the way, this took ALL DAY to actually get up here. So there was effort involved, just so you know.
I hereby tag: Trish, Fraulein N, Monotonous Life, Vegas Princess, Shades and Dot. And now, as Shakespeare would say, “Go to!”
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