Not Always About Monkeys

Why Not?

2011-09-20T12:41:00.003-04:00

It's bugged me, ever since I moved to my own dot com (HA!) that this little blogspot has just been sitting out here, lost, forlorn, and neglected. So, I'm going to post on it from time to time.

This is one of those times. That picture is something I put on my Tumblr, because I love it so. Tumblr is another thing - I have no idea what's going on over there. I joined that party WAY too late.

Some days I can full grasp the online world, and other days it totally baffles me. Today, I'm baffled, so I came home.

News

2009-10-17T21:09:00.000-04:00

I'm moving away from blogger. It's been a good run, but I've been working with Wordpress a lot and I like it a bunch. So I'm breaking up with blogger, but there are no hard feelings. At least I don't have any hard feelings. Blogger might. I hope not, since they are more powerful and rich than I am, and could squash me like a wee bug.

I hope you'll follow me over there. Now that I have an easier-to-work-with platform I'll be updating a lot more often. Give me a day or so to get it set up, and head on over to:

www.notalwaysaboutmonkeys.wordpress.com

Some day I'll get my own domain name, but not until I have that extra $10 per year.

Oh, Kevin Costner

2009-09-17T19:05:00.005-04:00

I think it's pretty apparent that I have a penchant for crappy TV and movies. I enjoy trite plot lines and overacting. That's not to say that I don't love great cinema, or that I don't have a discerning eye or great taste or anything - because I do have/do all those things, but I enjoy some crap every now and again. Just like I like to eat McDonald's or KFC or Taco Bell. Sure, I feel pretty bad about myself afterward, but it was kind of worth it, too. I might be wallowing in a greasy ball of shame, but it is a delicious greasy ball of shame.

There are certain movies that whenever they are on TV, I watch them. A League of Their Own is one of those movies. But I'm not going to talk about that movie (or PCU, or The Fifth Element), though I will likely tell you all about the finer points of all those movies in the future. Tonight I'm going to say a few words on The Bodyguard, starring Whitney Houston (pre-coked-up hot mess madness) and Kevin (I Have No Facial Expressions) Costner.

I will say one thing. They both do OK in this movie, because neither of them are acting. Kevin Costner is the same guy he was in, say, Dances with Wolves, or even A Perfect World (which I actually love). He's expressionless, gruff, reticent...you know, Costner-ish. Whitney Houston is an absolute vision - she's beautiful, she has an undeniably gorgeous voice, and her performance is not laughable, even though it's not very believable during the actual acting parts (ie her interaction with other actors). All in all it's not bad. For a first movie, it's actually pretty OK.

My main beef is with Michele Lamar Richards, who plays Whitney's jealous and (spoiler alert!) murder-conspiring sister. She's only done a handful of films (one was a vehicle for MC Lyte - just imagine) and a LOT of TV. I've not seen any of that, so I can't pass judgment on her as an actor in THOSE things. But in The Bodyguard she's just awful. She alternates between looking terrified and looking drunk (BESIDES the scene where she actually is supposed to be drunk) and then in her pivotal scene where she IS drunk and she's telling all about how she hired someone to kill her sister she looks like she's going to sneeze the whole time. Then she gets killed, so there is no chance of her acting her way back out of that.

Backing up though, there is that scene where Kevin Costner and his dad are walking around outside and the sister's out on the porch singing "Jesus Loves Me" and I'm sitting here thinking WHO DOES THAT? Who goes out to some stranger's cabin in the middle of the damn woods when you've hired someone to KILL your SISTER and sings "Jesus Loves Me" in a self-conscious way. Plus, isn't hard to sing in the cold? Don't your vocal cords get all cold and stuff? Inquiring minds want to know.

You judge:

And another thing. It's just a leetle too convenient that the hired killer turns out to be Kevin Costner's character's old partner or coworker or whatever. We meet him earlier in the movie and Whitney Houston makes out with him a little and he's all pushy and stuff.

Wait a minute. Is that how it ends? I said I always watch it when it's on TV, but that doesn't mean I usually finish it. Being self righteously critical is exhausting, you know?

So, recap. Shoulder pads, inappropriate singing, silver pop helmets, murderous sisters. Sorry I didn't get to the shoulder pads or the silver pop helmet. Always leave 'em wanting more, my grandma always says.

Oh Yeah

2009-09-11T15:42:00.001-04:00

And this blog is about 2 years old today. Happy Birthday, Not Always About Monkeys.

I Write, You Know

2009-09-11T15:33:00.003-04:00

So, what's new with me? What? Nobody asked? Don't care. I'm going to tell you anyway.

I have an awesome part time job writing for a fantastic SEO Company full of terribly nice people. Among other things, I write a blog about Richmond that talks about the best of the city and highlights certain things and people and places. It's www.richmondvapresents.com and I would love it if you'd visit it let me know what you think. Also, if you're a Richmonder and have a business or thing (not THAT thing, you perv) you'd like me to write about, I'll consider it. :)

I am in graduate school and beating my head against a wall for taking three (3) THREE literature-intensive classes this semester. The reading alone is enough to blind you, and on top of that you're expected to be able to form cohesive thoughts and scholarly opinions about things. Don't let me fool you - I love it, but I'm totally overwhelmed and freaking out.

Those are the two main things going on in my life other than The Hubs, The Rents, The Cat, The Dog, and The House, which are all doing pretty good and say hi, Internet.

Off to the weekend, which will not feel like a weekend at all because I have to do a ton of work and write a paper, prepare a presentation, and read practically everything Oscar Wilde ever wrote. But it will be fun, so who needs a weekend?

Awesome

2009-09-03T23:37:00.002-04:00

I should have titled this post "Only read this if you know the movie "Dirty Dancing" inside and out, but I was afraid that would scare off new readers.

So, I'm freaking out about grad school. I've stepped in it with my boss. I'm generally in an 11:38 PM place where I haven't gotten enough done and I am alternating between tears and hysterical laughter. Just another Thursday night.

So for background I put on "Dirty Dancing" because it was on TV the other day and I caught a minute or two and then I went to Best Buy to try to buy Wonderfalls and it (Dirty Dancing - the 20th Anniversary Edition) was on sale for $7, so I bought it.

A few pieces of criticism, as it makes me feel like I'm in control of my life (and I'm obviously not).

When Neil comes to Johnny to tell him that he wants to switch up the final dance of the season from something other than the Mambo, and Johnny shows him a few steps of the thing Johnny has in mind before Neil totally jocks him, those steps? Those are the ONLY steps the whole "staff" does at the end of the movie, while Jennifer Gray is standing there smiling maniacally and swishing her skirt. Really? Maybe he should have tried to verbally conceptualize the dance instead of showing off the ONLY MOVES that he planned on putting into this revolutionary final dance.

The 80's music injected into a period piece? Not so great. Although I did learn how to play "She's Like the Wind" on piano, that song "Yes" that they play when the sister is walking to get some for the first time with Robbie? And the use of "Hungry Eyes?" Not so good. Granted, I owned this soundtrack on cassette when I was 10 and found no fault in it whatsoever, I chalk that up to the fact that every girl wanted to be mousy ol' Baby and find a hunky dancing Patrick Swayze to adore her and declare that she shouldn't be put in a corner. Didn't help that Jennifer Gray went and got decidedly un-mousy and let all us mousy girls down.

The lift at the end? From a pure dancing perspective (and I do have some authority to say so, since I did dance semi-professionally for a little while) it wasn't so clever. Baby nods, gets lifted to the jumping point, runs at Johnny, and then just stays suspended in the air while everyone claps. Like a dog show, but with prettier clothes.

This is what I do when I'm freaked out. I ply you guys with semi-valid observations about 80's movies. I've just put on Moonstruck, wherein I'll roll around on the floor and wallow in my lack of productivity and mind-numbing fear.

A Few Things

2009-09-02T12:27:00.003-04:00

I love it when, on a TV show or in a movie, the characters act in a way that is very different from their established character - as long as it is hilarious. When stiff, uncompromising characters all of the sudden act all loopy I really love it.

The other night, while drinking out of a bottle of Smart Water, I opened the linen closet door. My depth perception is obviously a little off, as I smacked the door into the bottom of the bottle, thus ramming the mouthpiece of the bottle into my pursed lips. I now have two fat lips with little cuts where the bottle smooshed my lip up against my teeth. It is unfortunate.

There is fall in the breeze, and when I catch a whiff of it it reminds me of unending possibilities and newness. It makes me feel happy.

Ah, LMN.

2009-08-30T12:13:00.003-04:00

I don't know if you know this about me, but I have a weakness for Lifetime Original Movies. In fact, a thousand years ago I wrote a Top Tenz list for it (you can see it here) about the "worst" (ie "the best") ones.

I have a migraine today (I know, poor me) and so I spent the morning recovering (and taking copious amounts of headache meds) watching one of my favorite guilty pleasures. Lifetime Original Movies on the LMN (Lifetime Movie Network) channel. I know. I should have a problem with the fact that they bill themselves as "television for women" when I know that the crap programming they can have sometimes makes that tagline a total insult. I know that I have this brain that I'm supposed to be sculpting into a scholarly work of art. Darn it, though. I love me some trash TV.

For instance. There are these books that I'd never heard of that are written by a fellow Virginian called Ellen Byerrum. The books are a series called The Crime of Passion Mysteries. The lead character is named Lacey Smithsonian. I've never read the books, but I've seen the delightful Lifetime movie "Hostile Makeover" wherein fashion reporter Lacey Smithsonian witnesses the hateful murder of supernerd-turned-supermodel Amanda Manville and gets sucked into solving the mystery. Yep. You read that right. Lacey Smithsonian. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm pretty stoked that a fellow Virginian woman has made a living writing novels. I hope to join that club one day, so I'm not knocking anyone's character's names. Anywhoo. It was a fun movie and I will keep an eye out for the other one, "Killer Hair."

True story.

Holy Bad Customer Service, Targetman!

2009-08-27T09:41:00.002-04:00

So this once I'm not griping about a bad customer service experience that affected me per se, but I was involved, and I want to tell you all about it.

I was at Target with my mom (like we do) and I stopped to get a hot dog at the counter (like I sometimes do) even though I know that it goes straight to my spare tire making the once flat tummy incorporate itself into some past-thirty muffin-top nightmare. But I was hungry, so.

So I'm standing there, ordering my hot dog and a drink, and the lady behind the counter is none too thrilled to have to, I don't know, DO HER FREAKING JOB, and she's taking her sweet time getting her food service gloves on, retrieving my hot dog from the rolly hot dog holder thingy, getting it wrapped up, handing me a cup, etc. I mean, it's taking a pretty long time.

All of the sudden, this Target Team Member walks over to the counter with two people who are kind of holding on to each other and they both have white canes. So, they are sight-impaired. Target Team Member lady says to Food Counter Target Team Member,

"Miss Yvette, could you help my guests here get some drinks?"

And then she bolts. No kidding. She just dumps these two blind people at the counter with Miss Yvette, who clearly doesn't even want to exert the energy needed to hand me a single hot dog across the counter, much less come out here and get some drinks for these folks. And Peppy Target Team Member Lady is gone, vamoosed, like a ghost. We're eating her dust.

Miss Yvette has still not finished ringing my order up, and the Blind Couple is a little confused, because I doubt they realized that Peppy McAbandonsblindpeopleattarget has vamoosed her little ass back to the customer service counter and left them in the care of Miss Yvette, who at this point has finally finished ringing me up and is now staring at Blind Couple with her hand on one hip and her brow furrowed, as if she's thinking, "I could give them the cups, but how are they going to tell which soda fountain spout is which because I don't think they have Braille on them?" or possibly, "Bitch is crazy if she thinks I'm going to come out from behind my counter to do this because there are, like, 2 more people in line now."

What was I to do? I touched both of the sight-impaired people on the arm and said, "Let me help you get your drinks" and said to Miss Yvette, "Give me some cups. I got this." Miss Yvette has the presence of mind to say "Thank you" with a little too much relief in her voice, and I ask the couple, "What kind of drinks do you guys want?" They tell me, and I grab the cups, go over and get their drinks (pushing down the little "Diet" depressor thing for the Diet drink so that they wouldn't get mixed up) and walk back over to the counter. At this point, there are about 6 people behind us in line and Miss Yvette looks like she's about to burst into tears or something because Blind Lady is trying to swipe her card, and Miss Yvette (as a Target Team Member) isn't technically supposed to help her. So she says to me, "You're gonna have to help her swipe her card" so I go over to the lady and say, "Do you want me to take your hand and swipe it" and she says, "Can you just swipe it?" so I do and it wants a pin number so I tell her I'm going to push "credit" and she can just sign so she doesn't have to tell me her pin number. She says great, and then goes to put her card back in her wallet, then back in her purse (which takes all of about 30 seconds, but feels like 30 minutes when Miss Yvette is staring you down because you're not taking care of Peppy Negligence's guests fast enough and the Blind Dude is all "popcorn, we wanted to get some popcorn"

Luckily, Miss Yvette had already gotten the popcorn. Dude's holding both drinks. Lady finally gets wallet back in purse, reaches down to sign the pad, mistakenly bumps the "pay another way" button on the touch pad.

Shit.

I look at Miss Yvette. She looks back at me. I say to her, "Can you just go back one screen and and she can sign?" Miss Yvette tells me she'd have to swipe her card again. There are now 10 people in line behind us. I am a crappy Good Samaritan. I say, "y'all, this is on me", swipe my card, punch in my pin, grab my receipt from Miss Yvette, and look around for Peppy McIrresponsibletargetteammmember because maybe she was, like, in charge of their ride home or something. She's nowhere to be found, of course. The lady pipes up, "Can you take us to where we can sit down to have our drinks and our popcorn?" I say, "Sure!" She says, "It would probably be best if you just pushed our cart here (they'd bought luggage) and we'll sort of hang on to it." Sounded good to me. I push the cart, they follow, I get them to a table, pull chairs out and get them sort of situated, and realize that my mom is still waiting on me, and she's pulled the car around outside. I say, "Are you going to be OK?" and they're all, "yes, thank you so much for your help" and I'm all, "no problem at all have a wonderful day" and I go outside to the car.

My mom says, "What took so long? The people who were BEHIND you in line just sat down."

I regale her with the story, and find myself asking a lot of questions. How did they GET there, for one, and how were they going to get home? What if they weren't really blind, and they just wanted some free sodas and it's fun to get your kicks that way?

Nah, they really were blind. I just wonder how the Non-Miss-Yvette Target Team Member thought it was OK to just dump them off with ol' Miss Yvette. Crazy.

On Being Treated Like a Leper and/or Being Totally Oversensitive

2009-08-05T07:31:00.001-04:00

I have psoriasis. I'm pretty sure I mentioned that before, but it showed up when I was about 21 and has been going strong ever since. I don't write about it much, because I don't want this to be an "oh woe is me my skin is all funky and gross don't you feel bad for me" blog. Generally I don't even care, except when it kinda hurts or itches sometimes. It is what it is, you know? Life could be a lot worse. It's not life-threatening, the arthritis that is associated with it hasn't hit me very hard yet. It could be lots worse.

Anywhoo, so I'm at Food Lion several weeks ago (as an aside, I just recently started shopping at Food Lion - it's cheap and they're all, "Welcome to Food Lion", which is nice) when a checkout dude gave me the stink eye just for having red scaly patches on my hands. I mean, come on. It's not like I spit on him or wiped a booger on the conveyor belt. Him: long fluffy dark hair and patchy facial hair. Little wire-framed glasses. Me: work clothes (slacks and shirt), arms exposed. He wrinkles his nose when he looks at my arms, and then when I go to hand him my MVP card he tosses it back to me (even though I had my hand out) and then vigorously squirts hand sanitizer all over his hands and rubs them for, like, a whole minute.

I casually take my receipt, pick up my bags, and leave. I think about touching him as much as possible - patting him on the hand to say thank you, etc. I think about peeling off a flake and flicking it at him. I think about going back and explaining that what I have is in no way contagious and that he shouldn't worry himself into a frenzy tonight that he might catch LEPROSY or a SKIN EATING BACTERIA and that maybe the next time he should ASK what's wrong with me, because that's a lot more polite than TREATING ME LIKE I'M DIRTY.

So then yesterday, at the same Food Lion (hey, it's on my way home and it sells jarred pimentos) I go to check out in someone else's line (Mama didn't raise no fools) and she tells me the line on the end is open. I go to the line on the end. The lady there is spraying down the conveyor belt with Windex and informs me she's not ready yet. I appreciate her spraying down the conveyor belt so I just shrug and walk over to the next line, which is manned by Mr. Sneer and Look at You In Disgust. I should mention that I saw him when I first came in, and I had shorts on yesterday (the horror!) so my calves and knees were showing, and they have some of the worst spots on them. I saw him look down at my left calf, and then turn away real fast. I didn't think any more of it. So anyway, here I am in his line again, and he says, "This here is the 12 item or less isle, you'll have to go somewhere else." I, flustered, inform him that the other lady sent me down to the end and the end wasn't open yet, but I yank my cart out of the checkout isle and go back to the isle I was in orignially. As I put my items on the conveyor belt I count them. 15. I had 15 items.

So, am I being paranoid? Did this dude's first reaction to me make me expect a second, shitty reaction, or was he just consistently rude to me? I tend to lean toward the latter, because I really felt persecuted for a minute there, and I don't get persecuted very easily. Really I don't.

So, if you're ever in a situation like this guy, where someone has got some awful rash and you don't know what it is, trust me when I tell you that most people will appreciate an upfront approach. Here are some good ice-breakers:

"Hey, did you get into some poison ivy?"
"Wow, that rash looks painful, what is it?"
"What is that all over you?"

That last one seems a little blunt, but it's a helluva lot better than just treating someone like they're infectious.

The End.

Triumph, Thy Name is Tenacity

2009-07-29T08:09:00.002-04:00

Our new house is kind of dated. One thing is that the electricity comes into the house through fuses instead of breakers. I guess that's how it works. I haven't really looked it up. All I know is in my apartment on Dooley, sometimes, if I used the microwave, the iron, the computer, and the stereo all at the same time all the lights in the apartment would go out. I would then have to hunt for the basement key, go outside and down to the basement, through the dusty door, past the bedroll where my neighbor let a homeless guy sleep sometimes, past the booze bottles, over to the breaker panel marked #3. The lights were burned out in the basement (no matter how many times I donated a bulb to the cause), so you can bet I brought a flashlight with me. I'd open the panel marked #3, stop and realize that even though my apartment was Apartment #3, that the breaker panel was the 4th one set up, so I'd redirect the beam of my flashlight to the panel marked #4. I'd find the correct breaker (ie the one that wasn't facing the way the other ones were facing) and flip it, and when I walked back upstairs VI O LAAA I had power.

That's about the extent of my electrical expertise, unless you count the decorative lighting fixtures I've installed from time to time, which I don't, because Dwight often goes behind me and re-twists the wires together and re-wire-screws them. He doesn't know that I know that he does this. But it irritates the crap out of me. Anywhoo.

So this morning, fixing some breakfast, because breakfast is a great way to start your day, I ran into a bit of a problem. I was just standing there in the kitchen, thinking about how nice it was that I don't have to work until 10, so I had TIME to make breakfast and clean up after myself, and all that crap, and all of the sudden...as I was putting the turkey bacon back into the refrigerator...the refrigerator light went out.

Crap! Did I accidentally put the turkey bacon over the switch for the light? No! I go over to the toaster. My NutriGrain Eggos have popped up, but they are neither golden brown nor crispy. I look at the microwave. No glowy numbers. Shit.

I call my husband. He tells me to go to the fuse panel, open it, find the one that says "Kitchen Recepticles" and look inside the little window to see if the fuse is burned out. ?!?!?? How the crap should I know? I've never looked at fuses before. I said I guessed it was a little, well, smudgier than the other little fuse windows. He said did I remember the bag of fuses that the previous owner left us? It's on the table in the blah blah blah and I'm all, "Yeah, but aren't you just going to come home and fix it? Because there are, like, dozens of dollars worth of food in this refrigerator, and I'm all helpless and delicate (all the while I'm attempting to unscrew this questionably burned-out fuse) and could he just scoot on home for a sec and take care of this?"

He says the food will probably be fine until he has lunchtime, and to just not open the refrigerator anymore. I'm thinking of the eleventy hundred times I opened and closed the refrigerator trying to make the light come on again before I realized that none of the other electrical doodads in the kitchen were functional. Nah, that food probably won't be OK until lunchtime. At this point I'm getting a little upset. I'm not mad or anything, but I'm frustrated that my stupid fingers can't get the stupid fuse to unscrew and that the stupid refrigerator ws not working and that the stupid toaster hadn't cooked my Eggos enough yet, etc. I get off the phone and cry a minute, and then I'm all, "Wait a minute."

So the problem with trying to unscrew the fuse is that my hands are sweaty because I'm nervous about potentially electrocuting myself (which, incidentally, is a crappy way to start my third day of Part Time Job Part I) and because I'm frustrated and in a hurry. So I think "Rubber Gloves!" and go put some on. I try again. The little jerk comes out of his little hole. I take a replacement fuse (that was in a box, so obviously new) and screw it in. Nothing happens. I go check the fridge. Nothing. I call my husband again, "The new fuse doesn't work either - the electricity is broken." He says, "Did you screw it in the whole way?" I'm like, "YES." He asks, "Did you use a new fuse?" I say, "I used one in a box." He's all, "Just because it's in a box doesn't mean it's new. Sometimes people take the old one out and put it in a box blah blah blah." I start to cry. He says he will come home.

I get off the phone sobbing. I put my rubber glove back on, climb into a sitting position on the washing machine, and unscrew said maybe-not-new fuse. I (still crying my stupid head off) take yet another 20 amp fuse and insert it into the hole. I screw it in. I, with excruciatingly tiny movements (because of course said fuse goes crammed in next to other fuse) continue to screw the stupid thing in.

Suddenly, the microwave beeps. Through my tears and gritted teeth I exclaim, "That's right you Son of a Bitch!" and I jump off the washer to confirm. I have done it. I have replaced the fuse. I call husband. He's all , "Way to go" and I'm all, "Blubber blubber tears tears" and I finally got to eat my damn Eggos.

The End.

Update on the Thrilling Events of my Life

2009-07-22T19:03:00.001-04:00

So, I left my job at Bankruptcy, Inc. a little earlier because I had to go out of town, but then it turns out the reason I was going to go out of town went to a different, undetermined town, so I didn't have to go. Being a bounty hunter is a mercurial job. Just kidding. I'm not really a bounty hunter. Yet.

Anywhoo. Instead of returning to the last week of a job with my tail between my legs all, "Can I come back to work to do stuff for you guys for a couple more days instead of taking some time for myself until my new job starts" I sort of just decided to chill out for a few days. I have some freelance writing to do, and I thought I could get my home office unpacked, get some stuff done around the house, et cetera. Cook some good meals. You know, be a Domestic Goddess who Writes Good.

What I was a little suprised to find out is that I'm totally mind-numbingly depressed. I guess it's got something to do with watching a company die a slow death, and it being the end of an era, and all that stuff, but you'd think with two great part time jobs on the horizon, and the kick-ass classes coming up for grad school, that I'd be all full of positivity and enthusiasm. I guess it takes a little while, because so far I haven't gotten diddly squat done and I keep nodding off like a herion addict or my grandma or something.

So I figure I need to keep myself busy. The only thing? Every time I stand up I get a head rush, and I convince myself that it's far safer, since I'm home all alone, to sit back down on the bed and check Twitter to see if John Cusack has direct messaged me, because that would totally make my day. Not that he ever has, or knows I exist, but that would be pretty cool, so I should probably check. As long as I'm online, I might as well learn something on the TV, so it's lucky that there is a marathon of The Scariest Places on Earth on the Sci Fi Channel, so I can learn all about scary places and the paranormal. Because that's important. Then I start writing a blog in my head because Linda Blair (of Excorcist fame) is the host of the show, and in the opening credits she stalks into view through misty spookiness and she's wearing a tight leather outfit and a cape-like overcoat, which is fantastic. But I don't actually write the blog, because I'm thinking about how I should check my bank account, but I shouldn't do that directly from Twitter, because the internet monkey thieves could trace my steps over to my bank account and wreak havoc (new havoc, not the havoc I inflict monthly). So I might as well check my blogroll, and see what the people that are better bloggers than me have to say.

I think you see my point. Not too productive. Of course, I only left the job yesterday, and today was Day 1 of a surprise vacation, so I guess it's OK that I wasn't productive AT ALL. Since I was crazy busy at work on Friday AND Monday, I guess it's OK to take a breather.

Or I am a lazy hog-jerk. Whichever. I did eat a half can of cashews, a whole can of potato soup, a McDonald's #2 with no onions and a Sprite, and now I'm fixing to eat some more. So at least I'm well-nourished.

So, now it's Writing for Money late into the night, because you guys make me want to be my best.

Dining Room

2009-07-09T06:44:00.004-04:00

This is a picture of the dining room before we got our hands on it. As you can see, it was perfectly lovely, but entirely green. I don't mind green, but I wanted a more festive dining room.

Directly after this photo, you will see the dining room now, with a brief description of the work we did underneath.

We ripped up the carpet, primed and painted all the walls and trim, and my wildly talented husband created the lovely striping effect you see under the chair rail. We painted the chairs purple - the can showed a deeper, more aubergine purple, but I like the way they turned out nonetheless. We also replaced the chandelier.

The dining room table is a new addition - oak drop-leaf with some dings and nicks but a whole lot of character. I love it. My mom bought it for me at an estate sale recently - the same one where we bought that awesome stereo I blogged about. At least I think I blogged about it. Yeah, I did.

The kitchen is done, too. We'll save that for next time.

...

2009-07-08T13:52:00.002-04:00

I have been enjoying some freelance writing about our fair city, which I will link to upon permission from the owner of the website. I have been pregaming for grad school. I have been gearing up for even more freelance work as a contractor, and have accepted a sweet part time job in addition, so we might not starve after all.

The house renovation is 80% complete - just need some shoe molding and to paint the bathroom and hang the bathroom light. I will post pictures soon, because I know the whole damn internet cares a lot about the work I've put into my house.

Wait. That sounded bitter and I'm not. New opportunities. Grad school. New friends. Old friends. Life is really good.

Whether the internet cares or not.

It's Been A While

2009-07-01T22:26:00.000-04:00

It's also been a busy time. We've been working full throttle and I've been working at Bankruptcy Inc. and freelance writing (yay!) all at the same time. We have no clean forks or underpants, but life is good.

I've just found out that because of all this nifty reading and computer work, that I need bifocals. BIFOCALS. Dudes, I'm getting older...everyone is. But BIFOCALS?!? At 32? Really?

I mainly wear contacts, so I just had to get some drugstore reading glasses and using them is giving me headaches that would cripple Hercules. And he's a pretty tough guy.

I have a great story about Emma to tell you all, but it's going to take a minute for me to get the picture uploaded. So this is it for now, and stay tuned for a much more amusing post in the near future.

Stream of consciousness

2009-06-24T09:50:00.006-04:00

Random thoughts:

getting a little piece of garlic stuck in your tooth and working it out with your tongue is much like taking some sort of garlic breath infuser treatment. You've got to work really hard to undo that.

That Fitzgerald quote, "In the real dark night of the soul it is always three o'clock in the morning, day after day" takes on a whole new meaning when you're awake at three o'clock in the morning.

I did not win the lottery again today. Honestly, a poor girl's heart can only stand but so much.

Since my time at Bankrupt Inc. is coming to a close, I have put myself out on the proverbial market. Rather than worrying about the normal things one worries about when trying to secure gainful employment (ie. resume, skills, etc.), I am concerned about the following, because it's every so much more productive to worry about trivial stuff that doesn't matter.

I am not, repeat, am NOT, high maintenance enough to get regular pedicures. However, you might notice that my toenails are perfect. It's a bonding activity with me and my mom, and we go every two weeks if we can afford it. There are currently flowers on my toes because the girl at the shop asked me so very nicely if I wanted flowers, and I couldn't say no. Because I am a pedicure pushover. And, I'm wearing open-toed shoes because it's summer, and I hope that is appropriate. Because my only closed-toed shoes right now are sneakers and Doc Martens. And for some reason I thought red Chucks would make it look like I wasn't trying hard enough.

I blush a lot. Sometimes when I blush I stay blushed for, like, 10 whole minutes. I look like a tomato, and I'm sorry. Sometimes I blush because I've been blushing for so long. I get embarrassed by the blushing.

I have very little fashion sense, but if I'm going to someone's office to meet them, or meeting somebody out for lunch? Trust me, I've tried. As much as I can try without waving a bunch of red flags around this place. If I need to look nicer than this I can, because my mom lives nearby and is always willing to pick out an outfit for me.
**it occurs to me that if any potential employers read this they will now be thinking, "The dumb girl has to have her mother dress her." Not true. Many people take fashion advice from TV, magazines, friends, etc. I take fashion advice from my mom. She's my hero.
**Also, it isn't really like the guys I work for would have a problem with me going for an interview or something, but it's not good for morale with my coworkers. I'm sensitive to that. Both because I care about people and because around here you're liable to get your head bitten off. In a nice way, of course (not really, no, not nice).

I don't have poison ivy. I look like this all the time. It's not contagious, it's psoriasis, and I hope it doesn't creep anybody out too badly to hire me. Sometimes it's better than others, and I never scratch in public. Hey, if LeAnn Rimes can admit it, so can I.

I may be a little awkward at first, but I am super conscientious and hardworking, and I eventually grow on people. I mean, besides that one girl at my current job that hates my guts, most people find me very pleasant to be around. My mom thinks I'm the bomb.

I can't lie to you, Interwebs. This economy is still pretty sucky, and it's going to be a while before things turn around. Finding a job in this state is tough, and I AM actually worried about my skills, my creds, my chances. There is one thing in particular that I pretty much consider a dream job, so I'm trying not to get my hopes up so's they don't get squashed like little buggies. So I worry if I'm good enough.

But I also worry about what kind of impression my toes make. I'm a complicated woman, Internet. You knew that when you got into this relationship. Wish me luck.

Amazing that it's been a whole week

2009-06-18T21:01:00.001-04:00

A whole week since my last post. Huh. I had a great idea and lost it midday today amongst the searing, mind-numbing pain of a terrible migraine (fun!) and am pretty much writing something just to write something. Which is useless, yet I do it anyway.

In more exciting news, I think I've come up with an idea for a cool niche blog that can be a central hub of online activity and possibly make me independently wealthy. Or will at least pay my electric bill and support my kitchy t-shirt habit. So yeah, I'll get around to that someday.

As for fun stuff that happened over the last week, I guess I tweeted about it, so you can check out my tweets at the right, if you're not an active tweeter yourself. As for me, the jury is still out. It is a LOT of fun right now, and I could see it either becoming a way of life or something that I abandon because it's too high-maintenance.

I have several freelance pieces to write, plus a lot of really old carpet to pull up, boxes to pack, trim to paint, etc. Busy, but that's good because of idle hands being the devil's something or another.

Waiting...

2009-06-12T09:35:00.002-04:00

Sadly, nobody seems to want to dance this morning, and when I randomly asked one of the Boss-Type Coworkers if they knew the song "Duke of Earl" he just sort of looked at me funny.

I did turn up my little computer speakers when "Tales of Brave Ulysses" came on, in case someone wanted to enter into some heady discourse on whether or not the lyrics were spurned by an interest in Greek mythology, or just a whole lot of acid. No takers, and my mischievous tendencies are waning.

And it is embarrassing when someone walks into your cube while "Darling Nikki" is playing. I don't care what you say.

Tips for a Decent Friday

2009-06-11T15:22:00.002-04:00

So even though things are winding down here at what GypMom calls "Bankruptcy Inc." we are moving our desks and offices to another floor. For the last 3 months I have been sort of insulated from the rest of the folks, over here with the consultants I support. Now we'll all be thrown down in the mix, and we've never taken advantage of the fact that we've got a whole wing to ourselves. Amidst the moving craziness of tomorrow, here are things I propose we do tomorrow. I will tell you, Internet, instead of them because I'm not sure they get my sense of humor.

1. As I learned earlier today, the ladies room has some fantastic acoustics. I propose we do a short little rehearsal to make sure we all know the words to "Duke of Earl" by Gene Chandler, and wait until someone walks into the shitter with a magazine. Then it's showtime, Babies!

2. We're getting ready to have much less space. Also, there will be people sitting right next to me in Cubeland - unlike up here where I'm in a veritable Cube Wasteland. I'm the only cube occupant in the whole wing. So, the days of plugging the old iPod into computer speakers and listening to my music "at a reasonable volume" are likely over. Why not finish the week out right with a little bit of Mandatory Dance Time? I know you're all busy getting ready for yet another filing, but why not take a minute and boogie down to a little Harry Belafonte? Or if you're in a more mellow mood I could spin a little "Lime in the Coconut".
**As a side note, if you've ever hung out at my house you know that Mandatory Dance Time happens all the time, and it is FUN.

3. Instead of just buying lunch for our group, let's buy lunch for everyone in the building. And tell them it was my idea. Tell them that you would have never done it if it weren't for me. That they have me to thank for that free lunch. You're welcome, coworkers. You're welcome.

As none of these things are going to happen tomorrow, I will likely find little ways to make myself feel like they are happening. If I can get just one of them to "Shake Shake Senora" it will be a great time to be here.

Twitter Is Too Much Pressure

2009-06-10T10:39:00.003-04:00

OK, Internet. I get it. It's not enough for me to talk to you in one way or another every single day, but now I have to be clever? It's enough to send that creeping chill of terror through the old bowels, Internet. I'm having identity issues, over here.

I've bought a house, so I could fall into the home-improvement blog sphere. I'm also trying to freelance write, so I could fall into the desperate-writer blog sphere as well. I am also a student, so I could fall into the I'm-old-but-all-about-school-let-me-tell-you-about-it blog sphere.

What I'm not? A comedy writer. I'm hardly ever funny, and when people do the most laughing at me is usually when I'm deadly serious. I'm also not a blogger-for-profit, ever since the unfortunate AdSense debacle (which I've ALMOST given up on), so I'm really doing this for my own sanity and amusement.

So I will just keep on doing what I'm doing, being completely unfocused and un-nichey. Don't judge me, Internet, or I won't play WordTwist with you or let you win at Chess anymore.

Nobody Wants Me - A Cautionary Tale of Part-Time Employment Seeking in a Crap Economy

2009-06-09T08:54:00.003-04:00

Alack. As the homebuying process turns out to be more and more expensive, I realize that it would probably be best if I could pull down some extra income prior to starting grad school. Grad school, after all, is not free, and even though I will be applying for Financial Aid (a fun, exciting, and easy-as-pie process, Folks) we will still have to pay that money back someday.

Added to the fact that we are now in a 30-year mortgage that we will ALSO have to pay back, provided we want to keep a roof over our heads.

So I've been scouring the interwebs. Searching for that perfect part-time thing that will also provide benefits. That perfect part-time thing with the flexible hours and the work-from-home option that pays around $30 per hour. Easy, right? Not so much.

I thought I would just establish myself as a freelance writer and collect all this crazy income, buy my own independent insurance, and be Free From Corporate Servitude. Sure, I'd still work my corporate job - because I like it, but I wouldn't feel beholden to The Man, nor would I feel like the world was going to end when my job did.

Turns out it's a little more difficult to establish oneself as a freelance writer than one might think. Thank God for Shell at TopTenz - he lets me write for him and keep my research skills sharp (plus I get paid), but practically every other thing has turned out to be either a scam or someone who thought they wanted a writer and decided they were wrong.

So then I thought, "Hey." "Why not get a job someplace where I can get a discount?" I'd heard the Blockbuster gave part-time benefits, so I filled out an online application there. I had also heard that Target and Ukrops had part-time benefit options, so I applied online both of those places.

Nothing. Nada. I have heard zero from any of the places. Tomorrow I'm making it my mission to call each HR manager and be charming. Oh, and I'm going to apply to Lowes and The Home Depot, because a discount there would be sweet...

Happy Friday!

2009-06-05T09:04:00.002-04:00

So I have adjusted my attitude, put all the week's badness behind me, and have approaced today with a renewed sense of awesomeness that will not be squelched. No matter what. So if we don't get to close today, we will close SOMEDAY, and that's what matters.

I am also stoked because I have a bunch of new writing assignments from my editor His Awesomeness at http://www.toptenz.net/. He's started posting new lists every weekday, and they just keep getting better and better, so check them out. Especially when he posts one of mine.

I had a slew of curious dreams last night, all very involved and B-movie-like. I might write more about them later, or I might just continue to Tweet snippets as I remember them, as I don't have to be as cohesive that way.

Guess I'd better get to work. If we DO get to close, prepare yourself for many pictures of the House in Progress, and coverage of the bird funeral which will happen the day we close.

New House (Someday) ** Warning - one disturbing image at the very beginning

2009-06-04T20:06:00.002-04:00

So we showed up for the final walkthrough and found this on the front porch. Omen?

There are some complications with closing, so we don't know if we'll be closing tomorrow or not. Kind of took the wind out of my sails at paint-sample-buying time. Keep your fingers crossed.

Don't worry. The bird died of natural causes, and was very old. He'd lived a good life. I guess. I don't know. It was dead when we got there.

Here are some pictures of some of the rooms in the house that we'll hopefully get to close on soon.

The bathroom, kitchen, the cool kitchen light fixture, the dining room and the living room. More to follow when I have the gumption to rave a little more. For now I'm tired and vexed. Vexed and tired...

I did pick out some pretty sweet paint samples. If we do get to close tomorrow I'm going to paint them in squares on the wall. Like you do...

Blech

2009-06-03T22:14:00.001-04:00

I had to take a shower when I got home from work today. Not because it was hot and I was all sweaty, but because the day was so yuck that I felt like I had to wash it off of me before I could get on with the rest of my day. We had the final walkthrough tonight, and then dinner with our REALTOR and friend Matt. I wanted to enjoy it, and I couldn't with the remnants of today's crapiness still upon me.

It's not like anything devastating happened. I had an altercation with a coworker about something stupid. Something I shouldn't have even cared about. Something that wasn't worth arguing over, but I couldn't get her to see that I didn't want to argue, and I didn't even need to "win". I just wanted to be kept in the loop and I didn't want her perception of my request as "ridiculous" to color her decision about something. It seemed like we were all on the same page until I opened my big fat mouth, and I would have been better off to cool my heels and ride it out. So much for full disclosure and frequent and open communication. Guess I'll start being shirty like everyone else.

No. You know what? I'm there to do my job. Whatever job that happens to be today, granted, but to do a job. I'm happy to still be drawing a paycheck. I'm trying to be my best. I can't help it that circumstances have made it so we're all working in a wasteland. I can't help it that my nature is to do the best I can and take the best care of the people I'm supposed to be taking care of. I never take a job to make friends, but I certainly don't go to make enemies, either. So it's a real drag when something comes across the wrong way and I feel like a jerk, I feel like someone's been a jerk to me, and everything just feels wrong. I mean, I'm practically begging someone not to take what I say the wrong way, I'm tap dancing and backpeddaling as much as I can to say, "hey I can be wrong and I'm willing to admit it", and that someone (without even saying "excuse me") just picks up their ringing phone and starts talking. That's one thing. I try to NEVER be rude. Anyway...

I will certainly try to make it better tomorrow. I will certainly try to be my best - to be diplomatic and cheerful and pleasant and cordial. Like I do every day. But today I'm a little broken and very tired, worn down by the grating knowledge that not much we do matters, but every way we interact with each other does.

The funny thing? Dwight says, "let it go", because in the long run it probably doesn't even matter, and I know he's right. I doubt that the coworker in question gave the situation a second thought, after making sure everyone was good and angry about my request. So I'm sitting here at 10:30, when I'm dead-tired and should be sleeping, blogging inappropriately about my feelings.

Rats. On a lighter and more fun note, there will be a New post tomorrow about the new house, plans for the new house, and the wide possibilities of paint.

We're Hip and Cool

2009-06-01T20:12:00.001-04:00

So, I told you about this estate sale I went to, and I would figure out how to link to the previous blog post, but since it was just a promise for THIS blog post it's probably not worth it. Dwight and I have been enjoying the smooth sounds of this 1962-ish Magnavox stereo console:
It's got a swingin' sound that makes me want to serve Dwight a martini with olives while wearing an apron and pearls. And not in a dirty way, you gutterheads. Swingin' in the old fashioned way that doesn't mean spouse-swapping - like that Leave It To Beaver episode where the Beav has joined a record club and has been squirreling the bills away in a drawer somewhere and Wally catches on and goes to confront the Beav and the Beav is all digging on his tunes on his little turntable and Wally's all, "You have to tell Mom and Dad!" and the Beav's all, "Not now, Wally, I'm swingin!". Thanks Mike, for reminding me of that, because that's exactly what I mean.

Stay tuned for more estate sale fun, plus a full update on the grueling house-buying process.

I heart estate sales

2009-05-30T18:06:00.000-04:00

Picked up some really cool stuff at an estate sale today. Will post pictures tomorrow, but think huge Magnavox stereo console with turntable and 8-track player (sweet) for $25. That's right.

Plus some great old records, some fantastic old books (including a gift for my favorite English professor), and my mom bought me a drop-leaf, antique oak table for my new dining room.

I cannot wait to move!

Random Nonsense

2009-05-27T19:06:00.002-04:00

I just spent the past 5 minutes instant messaging my hubsband...while sitting 5 feet apart.
The ground beef had turned. No taco pizza tonight.
I love the movie "To Die For". I'm watching it right now.

Things I Won't Be Doing Today

2009-05-27T08:46:00.003-04:00

Flying my mom down to Naples, FL for a full-on spa week at the Ritz
Buying a small airplane for my dad
Buying land
The dance of financial freedom joy
Donating a shit of money to the Alzhiemers Association, Heart Association, Lung Association, SPCA, and the Fan Free Clinic
Going shopping
Drinking Veuve Cliquot
Taking a bath in Veuve Cliquot
Learning to spell Veuve Cliquot
Paying tuition in one lump payment
Paying for my neice's nursing school
Sending my younger cousin to military school
Holding a monkey
Getting a three-hour massage

Almost Heaven, Part II

2009-05-24T11:14:00.002-04:00

I'm back from West Virginia, and I'm regretting with every fiber of my being leaving behind this beautiful slicing tomato I bought there. I would eat it, right now, like an apple. This amazing tomato was from Gritt's Hydroponics, a greenhouse in Putnam County, West Virginia. I looked to see if they had a website, because I fancied having them overnight some of their magical tomatoes to me. They don't have a website. Of course, that won't stop me from calling them on Tuesday and asking them how I can either a) procure their fantastic tomatoes all the time or b) grow these wonderful tomatoes at my own home.

Here is a photo of the wonderful tomato, which will not even be enjoyed by my aunt and uncle, at whose house I left:
It's brother, who I ate with relish (not actually relish, but I ate it with great enjoyment) was consumed in the span of a few minutes. I cut it into slices with this knife:
And it was so red and beautiful on the inside:
I'm so sad I can't eat the one I left behind right now. I'm going to go to Tom Leonard and see if they have anything that even compares...

almost heaven, part one

2009-05-21T08:35:00.002-04:00

This is, despite the bad rap it gets, a beautiful place. The green is greener here. The blue sky is bluer. The abandoned houses are prettier:

And the random silos are painted with murals.

I never get enough shots of the stuff I really want to photograph when I'm here, so I'm going to make a concentrated effort to do so this time. So consider this the first in a series of the "I love my hometown and you will too" blogs, interspersed with a great deal of raving about local produce.

Emma!

2009-05-17T09:58:00.003-04:00

A couple of weeks ago we put Jake through a trial-by-fire. For some time we've been wondering how Jake would act around children, since we have about 800 nieces and nephews, and we're lucky enough to be friends with the coolest almost-four-year-old ever.

We're happy to report that Jake was a perfect gentleman. Now if he could just behave himself around my BFF Katie. Katie's a small lady, and Jake thinks she's his princess. Seriously. He loves her.

Here is an example of how awesome Jake acted around Emma:

Plus, how cute is this kid? Honestly...

Yep, I'm Going There

2009-05-12T21:40:00.000-04:00

Ok. I know it's crazy, but I'm not totally loving Adam Lambert's performances on American Idol tonight. I realize that he is the most talented of the final three (and the final four, for that matter), I don't LIKE him the most.

It's not because he might be gay. I don't give a crap about his sexual orientation, to tell you the truth. But I do care about what kind of new music gets introduced to the next generations.

Ultimately, I think that evolution-ally speaking that we' ve moved beyond Hair Bands. Notice that I capitalize it out of homage, but honestly, aren't we done with that schtick? I mean, is Brett Michaels' agent working overtime for fun? Or is that hair metal-glam rock type of vocal obsolete right now? I believe, truly guys, that it is. It was too soon to bring it back. Firehouse and Faster Pussycat have not made it into the "Classic Rock Through The Ages" Time Life Series publication for a reason. It's just too soon, Glambert. We're not ready. We can totally be OK with you being gay...that's a non issue. But bringing back the Hair Metal vocal style? America's not ready for that, Dude.

I'm just saying...

My Dog is a Murderer

2009-05-12T11:11:00.003-04:00

So, last night, Dwight and I are watching Castle on iTunes, because we've failed to set the DVR for it for the last, I don't know, 9 weeks, and we were interested to see if it was any good. Turns out it is. We like it a lot. So we had just finished up and were doing some internet research for a project that I just started working on yesterday - it's an idea I got from a guy I work with (Thanks, R!) and it's actually going to turn out pretty cool. Turns out Richmond is a small enough place that you can find small degrees of seperation between darn near EVERYTHING. Anywhoo, we're looking up stuff on the ol' Interwebs and I hear this hellacious squawking outside. It sounded really close to the back door, and I said to Dwight, "Hon, I think Jake got a bird, can you go check?"

Sure enough, Jake is sniffing at this little blue and black birdie that is writhing around on the ground. Dwight grabs his collar and pulls him back, and the little birdie is gasping for breath and trying to move. It gives up the ghost right before my eyes. I feel awful. I look at Jake. He doesn't feel awful. He looks extremely curious why we won't let him go chew on his new treat, and kind of excited that we're both out there paying attention to him and saying his name, but there is no guilt.

**I know what you're thinking, and dogs CAN feel guilt. Maybe not all dogs, but some of 'em. I've seen it.

Anyway. Dwight is holding on to the dog. Someone's got to get rid of the dead bird, otherwise the rascal will eat him. I go inside, whimpering a little, because I was pretty sad, put on some surgical gloves (my dad bought a bulk box so that I wouldn't do housework with my bare hands and I had an unfortunate accident with the regular kind of rubber gloves one time - different story for a different time, but it involved the little yellow fingertip of the glove getting folded under whilst scrubbing, then flipping back up and shooting cleaner into my eye - a situation I'm not anxious to repeat, so I wear surgical gloves and safety glasses while I clean the bathroom and kitchen. Go ahead and laugh, but The Works toilet cleaner BURNS...where was I? Oh yeah, putting on surgical gloves to dispose of dead birdie) grabbed a plastic trowel that I thought I'd thrown away a long time ago, a shoebox from Payless Shoe Source (you could pay more for a bird coffin, but why?) and went outside. In retrospect, I'm surprised I didn't put on my safety glasses.

I scooped the little guy up and put him in the box. Buried the box where Jake can't get to it, and that is the end of this sad little tale, and why my dog is a murderer. As a side note, that dead bird is a cautionary tale to other birds who swoop down and Jake daily and try to eat his eyeballs. Suckas better recognize.

I Owe You An Apology

2009-05-12T11:05:00.002-04:00

Listen, Internet. I know it's not your fault my ad thingy on my blog got disabled. I also know it's not your fault that it hurt my feelings and that I've been sort of avoiding computers altogether lately (with the exception of my constant research). I haven't even been filling out those "Living Social" Top Five thingys on Facebook anymore.

I'm sort of mad at Facebook, too. Ask me why some other time, but just rest assured that it's not always a good thing. It can be the harbinger of bad news PLUS some nice uneeded paranoia and insecurity. Because just bad news isn't enough.

Quit looking at me like that, Internet. I know that I'm less-than-great when it comes to the self-esteem plus common sense and rationality department. You've always SAID you loved me anyway. Now's the time for you to throw your wide-area-networky essence over my shoudler, punch me on the arm and say, "Buck up, Kiddo. Your totally irrational and freakishly obsessive mind are part of what makes you special. But they don't necessarily make those things in your head true."

Thanks, Internet. I feel a lot better.

I Resent Sanctimonious So-And-Sos

2009-05-08T10:23:00.002-04:00

I also hate assholes. They've finally arrested Drew Peterson for something - though it has nothing to do with the disapperance of his latest wife, it's still something. The murder of his third wife, to be precise, and according to msn as he got the cuffs slapped on him he said "I guess I should have turned in those library books." Plus, his mugshot is totally smarmy and makes me want to kick him in the face repeatedly with steel-toed shoes covered in bat excrement. Read all about it here, and get your "shitkickers" ready.

On a much smaller scale, I also take issue with Jack Goes Forth, wherein he went ahead and said that there were no interesting Richmond-based bloggers. Now, I don't criticize him for writing about his drunken sexual escapades, yet I take issue with him making a broad, sweeping statement about Richmond-based bloggers. Has he read every single Richmond-based blogger? I doubt it. Get off your high-horse, Drunk Boy. But I still read your blog every day.

Here is a list of things that are pissing me off today:

The transformer on the power line that feeds electricity into my house went BOOM today and Dominion has no way of actually speaking to a live human being. I called to report the outage on the "Automated Reporting Line Thingy" and they have a button you can press if you want to report further information than your lights just being out. I hit the button, and the first option was "If you heard an explosion, press one." That's crazy to me. Because instead of transferring you to someone right away because you heard AN EXPLOSION, the automated lady says "Thanks for your call, your problem has been reported." Hello? EXPLOSION, people. Don't you want to make sure no birds or pets were harmed in your crappy-ass transformer rendering the power line that dips waaayyy too low into my backyard for my comfort unusable? They are supposed to call me when it's fixed. It's not yet, and I fear for the turkey sausages and coffee creamer in my fridge.

Actually, that's got me so pissed off that I can't think of anything else to report.

Begging

2009-05-06T08:19:00.000-04:00

This is a letter I wrote to Google, asking them to reconsider their decision. Not because I was going to strike it rich by using this service, but because I don't like to be "in trouble".

My AdSense account was recently disabled. I filed an appeal, and the appeal was denied. I was told that my account "posed a significant risk" to advertisers. I simply do not understand how this can be. While my traffic has increased over the past few months, I have not solicited clicks nor have I ever purposely clicked on my own ads. I am horrified that I've been blackballed from a program that I have recommended to practically everyone I know. You're talking to someone who never even got sent to the principal's office in school - I can't believe that I'm in trouble with Google. I respect your company so much, and felt really great that I was a part of the Blogger community and an AdSense user. I implore you - reinstate my AdSense account. I will only put one ad on my page and I will advise people who read my blog NOT to click on the ads. I'm not sure what caused this problem to begin with, but if you say there was invalid clicking I'm not inclined to argue. I don't see what happens outside of my own home or office. I am very certain, however, that my blog is small potatoes, and that I am NO risk to advertisers. I am an aspiring writer who was just hoping to make a little bit of pocket change on this blog - just enough to offset the cost of my monthly iTunes purchases.
If you look harder at my account you will see that I am not a risk. If you would tell me exactly what kind of invalid activity you detected on my account I could work WITH you to correct it. Just cutting me off and writing me off is not the right way to go. I believe in what you're doing and want to be a partner in all this. I thought I was a responsible account holder and am very upset that you don't agree. I feel that my integrity has been called into question and I'm very upset by it.
I know you're a great big company with more emails than you know what to do with. I know you're all very busy and that I'm just one tiny person on the whole other side of the country and I don't matter. I have always thought that Google was better than the other large corporations out there. I hope you prove me right, and all the naysayers wrong.
Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I hope you respond.

Not Quite Done

2009-05-05T09:09:00.003-04:00

OK, I know I just wrote about this, but I'm kind of cheesed off about it. I'm not supposed to write about it, because you're not supposed to mention your, ahem, profit-getting units, and I have nowhere to vent this frustration. My mom's all, "Honey, I think it's a little ridiculous that you're so upset about this." And I'm sort of thinking that she's right. What does it matter? I didn't create this space as a way to make money. I created it as a place to ramble on self-indulgently and delude myself into thinking that would be entertaining to the general public. I just liked seeing how many page impressions I got per day. So maybe they'll let me have that back.

I can see it now.

Me: Look, I didn't mean to do anything wrong. Whatever I'm doing wrong? I'll stop it. Just tell me what it is.
Google: You're lucky we even let you keep your blog, you ingrate.
Me: Do you have to call me names? I already feel bad enough.
Google: There IS no bad enough, Ms. J. You're lucky we even let you keep your blog NAME. We technically own it. Plus, all your content. We own that too. Actually, we own YOU. That's right. We technically bought you from the government about three months ago. We could put you out of your misery at any time. And don't think we won't. We're serious.
Me: Obviously, yeah. You're serious. Listen, can I get an allowance?

The Scarlet Blogger

2009-05-05T08:54:00.003-04:00

Apparently, in my attempt to profit off of my witticisms and charm, I have pissed off Google. If you visit here regularly, you may have noticed this attempt for profit, which I don't dare call by name for fear of pissing Google off even further. Today you will notice that the "areas of effort" are blank no-man's-lands of internet wasteland. Yes, Gentle Readers, I have filed an appeal, because I don't feel that anything untoward happens here at NAAM, and because I know you really love to know where you can buy earwig poison.

I cried about it actually. But that's me lately. Crying about everything. The funny thing? Even though it's treated me like a red-headed stepchild, I still love Google. I just wish Google still loved me. *sniff*

Actually, Google probably never did love me. It's too big. It can't love individual people. It's not God, after all. It can't see into my heart and know that there is more good there than bad. Come on, guys. Don't be so hard on it.

End rambling.

Telling Tales

2009-05-04T13:27:00.001-04:00

Last night my husband and I had a conversation about what a terrific blog he could have, provided he had the time, patience, and inclination...

Expressions I Want to "Bring Back"

2009-04-28T15:38:00.002-04:00

I don't LOL, ROFL, LMAO or anything of the sort. I do, on occaision, SRWFS (smirk righteously while feeling superior), EMTBOCAHM (eat many tiny bags of chips and hate myself), and RMEWIFTCMFSTO (roll my eyes when I forget to change my Facebook status to "offline"). None of those are going to catch on, because they are long and clunky, and because you can't pronounce them outloud. Although, I get pretty irked when I hear someone actually utter "LOL" aloud.

Anywhoo. There are tons of neato expressions that predate the computer/text messaging/IM/Facebook/Myspace phenomenon. I think we should concentrate on bringing them back. Here is a list of examples:

Calling someone "Turkey". How I love this. Perhaps best used in the Jerry Reed song "She Got the Goldmine, I Got the Shaft", "turkey" as a means of addressing someone has to be uttered in a certain way. You can't drag out the "turkey" like "turrkeeyy". It's got to be staccato, like TURKey. TURK + EE. Practice it. Try it on your friends and loved ones.

Responding to the question "How are you?" with "Ducky", or "Just Ducky". As an adjective it means "fine", or "excellent". You can mean it, or you can say it sarcastically. Either way it's fun to say and people don't expect it, so that's fun too. Incidentally, as a noun ducky means "someone's favorite". So you're sort of implying subconciously that you're a favorite of some kind, which makes people view you in a more positive light. Note: that last part is utter and total speculation and mostly bullshit.

"I am called..." You might notice that people from countries who speak English correctly (ie any English-speaking country besides the good old US of A) say this a lot more often. My good friend from Trinidad always tells stories about people saying stuff like "I had a friend called Ruth..." and it sounds really nice. Flip it and use it on yourself. You've got Instant Importance.

"Fixin' to" It means that you're getting ready to do something. "I'm fixin' to wash the car". It doesn't mean like "fixing dinner". You can be "fixin' to fix dinner", but you are not using it properly if you're merely "fixing dinner'. Dig?

"Golly Gee" or "Golly Gee Whilickers" - People curse too much and too often. Instead of a good GD, or a F'in A, try on a "Golly Gee" for size. You can probably even get the right amount of sarcasm and viciousness into your voice that people will think you're being edgy.

So that's a good start. Try these on for size and see how much better you'll feel.

Bah

2009-04-27T09:09:00.003-04:00

I got so busy talking about the wine festival that I didn't metion any surreal parts. Here is a recap of the day that doesn't include what was previously blogged or tweeted about:

* It was so hot that heat waves were squiggling off the surface of not only the rocks and gravel in Innsbrook, but also off of the sweaty people. I kept rubbing my eyes to fix it, but it was an optical illusion from the heat. Either that or a hallucination. I'll stick with the former.

* The crowd was relatively young, so they got drunk FAST. There were a couple of times when I encountered someone who was obviously tipsy (even plastered) but holding it together so well that I wanted to say "Good job. I can tell that you're wasted, but that's only because I am stone-cold sober. To the rest of the drunk people out here you are holding it together remarkably well. Kudos to you, Drunkface."

* I am a suck-up to cops. I can't decide if this is because I really respect what they're meant to do (because I do, the idea of cops is good), because I like having armed people on my side (also true), or because I think that they might let me off easy if I get in trouble someday (me? get in trouble? never!). Luckily for me it was not hard to be extra-nice to the cops at the Wine Festival, because they were extra-nice and friendly. Innsbrook cops are awesome, as long as you're not gettinig into trouble in Innsbrook.

* I am an old lady. Seriously. I know I mentioned my back and my sinuses yesterday, and today I have a nifty new rash on my cheeks. Regardez:

Heat rash? Nickel poisoning? Heaven only knows. Hopefully my cheeks won't rot off before I'm able to post again...

Holy Backache Batman!

2009-04-26T11:24:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was pretty surreal.

Back up. A few weeks ago my good friend and ex-boss Jerome asked me to work the James River Wine Festival for him selling water. He sells water. Bottled water from an aquaphor-fed arisan well in Hanover County, VA. It's fancy good water. Anyway. He asked me to do this for him because he had a family scheduling conflict, and he knows I'm good at working with people.

I've been crazy busy at work, so I actually called Jerome last week and told him that I couldn't work both days of the weekend. In fact, I could pretty much only cover for him while he was doing what he needed to do. I felt bad, but I'm WAY behind on schoolwork and needed one day to work on that kind of stuff. I really wanted to bow out of the whole thing, but knew he really needed someone to do Saturday during the day, so I agreed to do Saturday set-up and work the festival from noon until 4 or 4:30 when he could get there. He's been a good friend for many years and I didn't want him to miss out on any profits.

So, imagine being the only water vendor at a wine festival on a 96 degree day. While on the one hand it feels like I was there for 100 hours, on the other hand I was so busy and the time passed so fast that I couldn't believe it. Hauling ice, restocking coolers, and moving cases of water mean that today I can hardly move my back. Being downwind from the cigar vendor all day means that my allergies are going crazy. Plunging my hands into ice-cold water to retrieve the "coldest" bottle for a drunk reveler mean that my hand dermie is irritated and I have a hangnail on every finger. All that aside, I had a lot of fun and sold every bottle of water he left with me.

And, I was surrounded by free booze all day long and didn't have a single drop. Mainly because I couldn't get to it, but still...

Today I am trying frantically to catch up on schoolwork. Away I go...

Snoozing...

2009-04-21T09:40:00.003-04:00

My husband sets my alarm for 6:31 AM every morning. I then proceed to systematically hit the snooze button every 6 minutes until roughly 7:01 AM. That means that the alarm goes off 6 times every morning (not counting the one time it goes off for my husband). It is set to a radio station. Here is how I woke up this morning:

6:31 AM - "If You Could Only See" by Tonic. Gag.
6:37 AM - "Vacation" by the Go-Gos. So aggressively cheerful that I should have woken up for good at that point.
6:43 AM - "Jesus is Just Alright" - The Doobie Brothers (henceforth referred to as "The Doobies")
6:49 AM - "Back in Black" - ACDC
6:55 AM - I have no memory of this one, because my hand was lightning-quick in hitting the button. In fact, I think my half-slumbering self might have had my hand poised above the clock radio, ready to strike.
7:01 AM - "China Grove" - The Doobies

So this, obviously, got me thinking about The Doobies. They are playing at Innsbrook After Hours (a seasonal concert series here in the West End of Richmond, if you are not from around here) this Wednesday, April 22 at 7-ish. So of course local radio stations are playing their songs. They always do that when a band is getting ready to play here. Here's the thing. A while ago I blogged about the Yacht Rock phenomenon that was sweeping my household. Like it or lump it, The Doobies were an important cog in the finite machine of Yacht Rock. Just watch the first YouTube video (linked to in the blog linked to above - can't get to YouTube right now) and you'll see how important they were to the whole smooth movement (yeah, I know, cheap shot).

My point is, how do you reconcile a song like "Jesus is Just Alright" or "China Grove" against a song like "Takin' It To The Streets" or "What a Fool Believes"?

Of course I turned to Wikipedia for the answer. And my suspicions were confirmed. It's Michael McDonald. He drastically changed the sound of The Doobie Brothers. Now that Yacht Rock video makes a lot more sense to me.

I think he might be the devil. I also think my husband might divorce me for this blog post.

Healthy Food

2009-04-19T12:38:00.001-04:00

OK, I know I just said this wasn't going to be a diet blog, but I've been searching for healthy recipies and just remembered one I already know how to make. I posted a recipie for a breakfast casserole some time ago but I can't find it. Anyway, here is the healthy version:

Ingredients:
Egg Whites
Fat Free Cheese
Whole Grain Bread
Skim Milk
Pam cooking spray or similar
Turkey Bacon
99 % Fat Free Ham
Mrs. Dash or Spike
Cracked Black Pepper

Spray a casserole dish with the cooking spray. Rip up the bread (maybe two slices or so) and coat the bottom of the dish with it. Kind of mush it down a little. Whisk together the egg whites (about 7 or 8), the skim milk (about a fourth of a cup), the turkey bacon (chopped up), the ham (chopped up as well), the fat free cheese, and season it with some Mrs. Dash or Spike and some cracked black pepper. Pour the egg mixture over the bread. Refrigerate overnight to let the flavors mingle. Pop it in the oven at 350 degrees for about a hour. Serve with hot sauce or ketchup, if you want to.

Am a Pig

2009-04-19T12:12:00.000-04:00

So I counted calories all week, made good choices about what to eat, wore my pedometer and counted steps, and tried to be more active during the day. Except for Friday. And yesterday. Well, and today so far, but it doesn't count because I have a migraine.

Friday I started the day with a cheese omelet, bacon, hash browns, and a biscuit from the cafe at work. I only ate about a fourth of the omelet, two bites of the hash browns, and half of the biscuit. Oh, and both pieces of bacon. The worst part about all of that was that I drank an enoromous Pepsi, which I'd been avoiding previously.

Then, for lunch? McDonald's. So good. So bad for me. Combo 2 with no onions and a Sprite. Another soda! Bad me!

Then I ate about a whole fried chicken, some soup, and drank ANOTHER soda.

Yesterday I did OK for breakfast, BAD for lunch at TGI Friday's with my mom (damn you, tiny delicious cheeseburgers!), and then ate a piece of fried chicken when I got home.

So in essence, I undid all the good work I did Monday through Thursday. Going to start again tomorrow with renewed vigor and dedication. Don't worry, this isn't going to turn into a diet blog. I'll start a new blog for that if it turns out to be something I want to write about. I'll just tell you about my backslides and disgusting things I eat in the hopes it will either a) make me feel guilty enough not to do it anymore, or b) make you feel better about the crap you eat.

Misheard Song Lyrics

2009-04-18T17:39:00.002-04:00

1. In Michael Jackson's "Human Nature" I always thought it was "telepathic human nature" instead of "tell them that it's human nature".
2. My cousin, Susie? She thought Wing's song "Band on the Run" was "stand on the rug".
3. My cousin Lori thought that Huey Lewis's "Hip to Be Square" said "Hit the Breezeway".
4. The first time my dad heard Stone Temple Pilot's "Creep" he reprimanded me for listening to pornographic music. He thought the lyrics "take time with the wounded hand" was "take time with a woman's pants".
5. Dean Martin's version of "Sway" has the lyrics "other dancers may be on the floor". I thought for a long time that he was saying "other dancers may pee on the floor."

So that's fun.

More Things I Don't Like

2009-04-16T13:43:00.002-04:00

At the risk of being labeled a "hater", I submit more of the things I don't like:

1. The term "bleed out", "gone septic", and what each entails.
2. Imaginary and real spiders and spiderbites.
3. Waiting on someone to do something for you.
4. Having the same person ask me the same question every time they see me.
5. Having to bug someone for something you want them to do for you.
6. Headaches.
7. Windiness
8. Weeks straight of rain.
9. Worrying about money.
10. Again, Alligator Fish Pig

Am Nasty.

2009-04-13T21:24:00.000-04:00

Even though my lovely husband recently cleaned out my car and scrubbed up the cup holders and everything, a terrifying smell was emanating from my backseat. Now, by "recently" I mean about five weeks ago, so there was a distinct possibility that I had inadvertantly left something food-related in my car. It wouldn't be the first time.

I checked under the seats. Nothing. Just some empty water bottles and some receipts and stuff. I checked the cupholders, the console compartment thingy, the glovebox. Nothing. Then, I noticed my gym bag sitting innocently in my back seat.

It dawned on me that not only did my lack of exercise mean that I find extra flab around my middle and it's that much harder to walk up stairs, it also meant that something was rotting in my car. In my gym bag. Dear God, what was it?!?

Naturally, I didn't open the bag right away. In fact, I went on into work and just cracked the windows about an inch each, so that the car could air out a little. WITH THE ROTTING THING STILL INSIDE IT. Common sense? Nope, not today.

I pretty much forgot about it until about an hour before I left work. I started speculating about what it could be. It certainly wasn't dirty laundry, because it was clean gym clothes and socks and towels in the bag in ANTICIPATION of the gym. I hadn't actually gone. I must have put some food in there. Healthy food, probably, because I put the bag in my car on one of those "I'm turning over a new leaf" kind of days. A banana? An apple? Grapes? A high-fiber muffin? Mayhap a part-skim mozzerella stick, or a tub of fiber-added yogurt? It was kind of fun trying to guess.

I walked toward my car with steely determination the likes of which...well, I walked toward my car knowing that it would be absolutely ridiculous for me to drive all the way to campus with the foul smell still in my car. I sniffed around the seat again to make sure. I got closer the bag and yep, the smell was coming through the bag. I unzipped the bag. Whoa. Yep. It's in there. I see my nicely folded towel, my fancy capri-style workout pants and my little short moisture-wicking socks...and the tops of two Ziploc bags. I tentatively grab the tops of both plastic bags (up near the zipper, where I can't possibly come into contact with anything in the bags) and pull them out.

Ew. Obviously I had thought that a veggie chicken patty and a slice of nonfat American cheese would make a good lunch. Back FIVE WEEKS AGO when I packed my gym bag in the hopes I would get a wild hair and exercise my ever-expanding self. I held the bags out from me like they were teeming with insects (because they smelled like they should have been), and the plastic felt hot. Even up near the zippers! I walked them over to the dumpsters, and even though those big guys were closed up most of the way I flung the two bags to the top and heard them slide down into the dumpsters. Sweet. I half expected the nastiness to come back raining on my head because I am such a slovenly jerk. Thank heavens for small favors. The nastiness took its leave of me.

With the rotting veggie burger and rancid cheese ejected from my life and car I drove to campus, the proud resident of a not-foul-smelling vehicle and a renewed interest and dedication to cleanliness. And the idea of going to the gym. I made a mental note that I need to take the gym clothes and towel out of the gym bag and wash them, because being that close to stinky rotten stuff might make them stink too.

Yeah. The bag (with clothes in it) is still in my car. Tomorrow is, after all, another day.

My Time Management Skills

2009-04-11T13:15:00.000-04:00

My time management skills have depleted all of the sudden. The go-to girl has gotten up and left, and when it comes to my personal life I can't get ANYTHING accomplished in a timely manner.

That being said, Mom offered to spring for a pedicure, and it would be a sin to go to church on Easter with chipped toenail polish, right?

My new Twitter Policy

2009-04-10T12:17:00.002-04:00

I've decided to use Twitter as a cathartic device to voice my internal monologue. That means that ideally if you piss me off you will never know it, as the snarky mean thing that I want to say to you will go into internetville instead of into your face. However, there is a remote possibility that you decide to follow me on Twitter and piss me off, and immediately check Twitter because it's just notified you that I've Tweeted, and will read the snarky thing that I've just refrained from saying out loud.

That's a chance I'm willing to take.

Things I Learned from Watching TV Last Night

2009-04-09T08:36:00.003-04:00

1. If you're going to murder a neighbor, it's best to live in a building with an incinerator.
2. Halle Berry's feet don't stink.
3. Being "an inspiration" isn't good enough to get you the Judge's Save on American Idol.
4. I literally can barely understand a word Jay Leno says.
5. I'm fairly certain that the first guest singer on American Idol last night was rapping a song about non-family appropriate things to the tune of a Dead or Alive song.
6. No matter if your dead husband's soul is in another man's body, if there is enough residue of that other man in there, he's not OK with the fact that you can see ghosts.
7. Television advertisers have embraced the fact that Easter symbols are based in Pagan fertility rites. You know how I know? That stupid Cadbury commercial with the chocolate bunny staring down the peanut butter to the tune of "Let's Get it On".
8. Domino's CEO really must be a nice guy. Or an evil genius.
9. PIRATES!!!!!
10. Again, PIRATES! Honestly folks, did you ever think you'd hear of a pirate attack? I know it sucks and everything, but it is so surreal to have a newscaster say, "And on the coast of Kenya today, pirates attacked a U.S. destroyer and have taken the captain captive in a gut-wrenching drama on the high seas."

I do hope that the Somali pirates let the guy go and that nobody get hurt. Darn those Johnny Depp movies for desensitizing all of us to the real danger of pirates. It's no laughing matter, Folks.

Pets Have No Boundries

2009-04-05T12:52:00.000-04:00

Right now, at this moment, the cat's head is brushing against my arm. I look down to find out what she's doing. Yep. She's, ahem, cleaning her butt. Not just the fur around her butt, but her actual kitty sphincter, banana-slice, whatever. I yell at her, "Kitty! Ew!" and she looks up at me, tongue sticking out, like, "What? It's not going to clean itself, you know." I push her away from me, because she should really do that where she's NOT TOUCHING ME. She shook her head, licked her cat lips, and moved back to my side, where she started to dig right back in. I physically picked her up and placed her on the floor, where I can't hear that slurping sound.

You're welcome.

Foreshadowing

2009-04-04T11:40:00.000-04:00

Darkness was falling by the time I finally finished writing. My brain had been limping along like I was on some sort of sedative - only without the lovely floaty feeling. I couldn't stare at anything for too long without my eyes crossing, making it especially hard to stare at a computer screen, and I'm no good at typing without looking. It had been a very long day.

I'm a little worried, Internet

2009-03-31T13:17:00.003-04:00

Listen, Internet.

It's been fun all this time. Don't you think we've had some fun? I mean, I know I met you a little later than a lot of people did, but I think I've more than made up for it with my many hours of Bejeweled and my manic social networking.

So what's all this about you letting people install this "malware" stuff on my computer, making me succeptible to the April 1 computer armageddon. What's up with that, Internet? And now I hear that this is a prime time for identity theft, too? So much that there are guys on street corners with those little skinny billboard trucks (I hate those, Internet!) yelling about identity theft. That it's coming for me. Is it, Internet? Would you let them get me?

You know, Internet, it wasn't so long ago that I did just fine without you. Granted, it would be really hard to communicate, bank, order things, and be entertained without you, but I think you might also be forgetting about a little phenomenon called "books", and something called "the telephone".

That was a little harsh. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I'm just really scared about all this, you know? Could you, maybe, just chill out a little? Ease up on digital armageddon and we'll sneak in a little Bejeweled later - deal?

Wow

2009-03-30T09:00:00.002-04:00

Now that I've been accepted into a Masters program, I can't help but think about the next step - the PhD. Considering that it's a 6-7 year process, I'm understandably daunted. I was curious, so I looked into PhD programs online. It's amazing what people will put out there:

http://www.degreeprogramsonline.info/

Typos. A dead giveaway.

House Hunting

2009-03-28T10:38:00.000-04:00

We're going house hunting today with my parents and our Realtor. I have created a folder for each property with the MLS printout and a checklist for our reference. I will take the digital camera, and be as scientific about this process as possible. More to follow!

It's All Happening...

2009-03-26T11:02:00.001-04:00

Expect nothing, live frugally on surprise.
-Alice Walker

Things I Like - The Birthday Edition

2009-03-20T09:57:00.000-04:00

Birthday wishes
Days off of work
Kitty cuddles
Puppy cuddles
Phone calls from best friends
Birthday wake-up kisses
Dinner with parents
Fun with friends

The more random edition is coming soon!

Maybe I've Been Watching Too Much TV?

2009-03-15T08:20:00.002-04:00

In my dream last night I worked in a big mirrored office building. It was my job to run up and down the streets catching people's dogs and taking them to their respective homes. After I was done with that I would go inside the building and ask people a lot of questions. I was friends with all the window washers.

There had been a dead body on the roof for a couple of days. Apparently there were no police (they hadn't been invented) so lots of people gathered around the water cooler to discuss it, and other people would ponder in smaller groups about what to do about the dead body on the roof.

He was a he - in some sort of uniform. His face was hidden as he was kind of resting on some sort of air vent, and nobody wanted to touch him to turn him over to see his face, for fear that he was all sticky and gooey from being dead so long. All that was visible was his back, arms, legs, the back of his head. On his arm there was a tattoo. I knew this because the window washers told me.

One day a bunch of people were crowded in the lobby, watching the TV that constantly ran the news. They were chatting loudly about how there was one right there, that if someone just went up and cut it off they could make the money. It turns out the news story was about gang tattoos. They were saying that the tattoo on the dead guy upstairs was a gang tattoo, and that the newspeople were offering rewards to people who turned in gang tattoos. "Gross", I thought. Who would cut a tattoo of the dead guy on the roof?

That same day, after running in traffic six times after the same dog and sucessfully bringing it home, I was in the lobby of the building asking questions. During the question time I realized that I had to eat something, so I went up to the food court of the building, which was the floor underneath the roof. I got a sandwich from the sandwich station and sat down with some of my window-washer friends. They were talking about the dead guy on the roof. How he was someone who used to pull the levers in the basement, the ones that open and close the metal shades on the building at night. Those guys are in the building late - overnight even sometimes.
I started to get this creepy sort of feeling. Just what was the deal with this dead guy? Why did something about this situation feel so familiar? I shrugged to myself. It wasn't my fault the guy was dead. I just wished someone would take him down off the roof.

After I ate I went to the patio outside the food court to get some air. I glanced at the stairs that led up to the roof. Maybe I'd feel better if I saw the dead guy myself. Maybe what was bugging me was that I was afraid I knew him or something, and once I saw him I could make myself feel better. So I went up there.

There he was, in a blue uniform jumper with a white-longsleeved shirt underneath that had the sleeves pushed up. He was sort of facedown in a tarp of some kind that was draped over a vent. Sort of bundled up, but with his arm sticking out and his head turned way to the side facing away from me. I walked closer to him, covering my face with my shirt sleeve, because I was pretty sure he'd stink. I sort of realized he didn't, and took my hand away from my face. He didn't stink at all. In fact, this dead guy had been up here for a couple of weeks, and he didn't look like he'd been dead more than a few hours - a day at the most. He wasn't all gooey or full of bugs.

I could see the tattoo on his forearm, because the sleeves on his white t-shirt were pushed up. It was the logo for a bread company - boy, would those freaky people from the lobby be disappointed or what? I could kind of see the side of his face and I knew that I didn't know him. He didn't look familar at all. He had on a name badge that said "Security Engineer" and under that his name, George Talman. I had a feeling that old "George" was probably a "Jorge", but the company didn't like ethnic-specific names (hence why I was "Frannie" instead of my given name, "Famke"). We picked all of our last names out of a pool, so that was never an indicator.

I felt really bad for him - all dead up here on the roof all this time with nobody to fix his body, put it in the incenorator, scatter his ashes. Nobody to chant or pray for him. Nobody to care. I sort of pulled the corner of the tarp that was flapping in the wind and draped it over him. I don't know, I guess I didn't want him to be cold.

I wanted to get out of the wind. Away from George. Away from the company all of the sudden. I wanted to go home to my apartment - to my own dogs. I didn't feel so good. But I knew I still had some more questions to ask in the building before I went home, so I started toward the roof door to go in.

There was a man standing there. He had silver hair and tiny wire glasses. He was wearing a gray tweed three-piece suit with a yellow tie. His suit was just a little bit rumpled, but it is hard to wear tweed without it getting rumpled. There was something in his right jacket pocket, sort of messing up the line of his suit. Lots of guys keep their wallets in their jackets instead of their pants. His shoes were shiny, with laces that tied instead of being slip-on shoes. He was looking at me.

I walked closer to him. He peered at the name-tag on my uniform and looked me straight in the eyes and smiled. "What brings you up here, Ms. Asher?"

"I just came up for some air. I saw that dead guy. Are you up here to look at the dead guy?"

The reason I asked was that he looked like one of the company's executives. Maybe somebody was finally going to do something about the dead guy.

Company executives don't wear name-tags. The guy had nice crinkles around his eyes, and they crinkled up as they smiled at me. He put his hand on my shoulder.

"Come on out of this wind, Ms. Asher."

He had a nice, soothing British accent.

I walked past him into the stairwell that led from the roof into the top floor of the building. Most of the top floor is the food court and the patio, with the stairs going back up to the roof. This other set of stairs went all the way down, to the first floor of the building, straight through the middle of the building from top to bottom. It was made out of wood, unlike everything else in the building, and it gave me the creeps. There were little storage and maintenance areas off the side of each landing, equipped with little washrooms and supply rooms. I told the man that I needed to use the washroom. He said that was OK, that he needed to get a few things from the cabinet in there.

Most of the washrooms have private stalls. This one didn't. In fact, it didn't even have a toilet. I was pretty desperate to pee, so I asked if he wouldn't mind terribly leaving the room because I was going to make use of this bucket. I really didn't have any other choice, plus I'd peed worse places. He said he would turn his back, certainly, and not turn around until I was done, but he just simply had to find this thing he was looking for in the cabinet in there, and that he couldn't go back to work until he did.

Oh well. I squatted down over the bucket. To detract from the splashing sounds I was making, I struck up a conversation with this guy. This was certainly a strange situation, I told him. I don't usually pee in buckets in front of people. He pointed out to me that I wasn't in FRONT of him. That his back was turned, just like he promised. I kind of laughed at that. I don't know if you could call it a laugh. It was probably more like a titter. I was very uncomfortable. I was having trouble peeing, and kept talking hoping that it would help me finish up and get out of here.

"So, did you know that dead guy that's up on the roof?"

"I did."

"Do you know how he died?"

"I believe he was shot to death"

"Jeez, who would do a thing like that?" I was almost finished and craning my neck around for a piece of toilet paper.

"I believe that the man who shot him, whose name is Eric Overstreet, was overcome with emotion and not entirely of himself when it happened."

"Do you know that guy, that Eric Overstreet guy?"

"I do."

"Well, what do you think made him so upset that he had to shoot George? Plus, how do you figure that a guy can shoot another guy up on the roof and nobody hear the shot?"

"I believe that the murder weapon was equipped with a silencer, and that the muzzle was placed right against Mr. Talman's chest. I am quite sure that the incident was very quiet."

"So how would this Overstreet guy get close enough to George to put the gun right against his chest? Why would he do that?" I was finally finished and stood up and fixed my uniform.

He went on to tell me about Overstreet. His back was still to me, and I watched the back of his neck get a little pink. I noticed how the back of his hair kind of fell down over his collar like he had skipped his last haircut. He was telling me about Eric Overstreet. How he had a terrible childhood in a country far away, and was an orphan, and lived on the streets for a time. How he tried to steal from this business, and because he was a minor when he got caught they made him work there to pay off what he'd stolen, and they realized that he had a real affinity for science. How they'd liked him so much as it turned out that they sent him to Oxford University because it wasn't terribly far away and he could still work on the weekends. How Eric Overstreet had come to America as a very important scientist, and came to work at a company in this city. How he had met a man and that they were very good friends. Then that man had hurt Eric Overstreet's feelings terribly, and that there was just no good way to end things.

I thought about all this he had told me. It seemed really sad that things had to end this way. That poor George got mixed up with this Eric Overstreet guy and that it got him killed, and that poor Eric Overstreet came all the way from England to get mixed up with a guy that would hurt him so bad that he felt like had to kill him to make the hurt go away.

I felt really hot all of the sudden. My heart was beating faster and faster, and my cheeks were really warm. The guy in the gray suit still had his back to me, and I realized that I didn't have a whole lot of options to get out of here.

He'd finally found what he was looking for. A crusty, heavy-looking cylinder of metal that he dropped into his right jacket pocket. It clinked against something else that was metal. I wondered why he'd put something else into a pocket that already looked bulky. I thought I knew what was in that pocket, especially since I noticed, when his back was to me, that his wallet was in his back pocket.

He turned and looked at me. His eyes were kind of red. Not like he'd been crying. Sort of like his eyes had been looking at too much and they were tired. I saw that there was a security monitor next to the cabinet he'd been looking in. It was trained directly on the dead body of George (Jorge) Talman. He'd been looking at the body the whole time he talked to me.

I wondered if what I had just figured out was showing too much on my face. I wondered if he could feel my heart beating loud, and if he knew how scared I was. He reached his right hand into his right jacket pocket. I threw my bucket at him and ran past him as fast as I could.

I hit the stairway at top speed, my hands catching splinters on the old wood. I wondered briefly if the lumber was treated, and if these splinters would get infected. I tripped on a loose stair and went sprawling. I heard him behind me, the scraping sound of metal screwing into metal, and hauled myself off the floor and ran down more stairs, fast as I could. He was gaining on me, his black shiny shoes click-clacking on the stairs in a steady, solid rhythm. I was sure I would hear the "phht" of a silencer and feel a bullet in my back at any moment. I tripped again, this time cracking my ankle against a board and going down for good. I hit my head when I fell, and everything swam around me.

As he approached me, I saw that he had the silencer equipped. As the blackness closed in around me, I couldn't be sure if he was pointing the gun at me or at him.

Things I'm Not Down With (aka the "turn-offs")

2009-03-14T10:59:00.003-04:00

Angry mobs
Angry mobs with torches and pitchforks
Roaches
Maggots and the flies they turn into
Homicidal magic twins
Alligator Fish Dog
Satan or any of his minions
Questionable stains
Pustules
Ritualistic sacrifices
Morons
Jerks
Decreased liver function
Drivers who follow too closely
Migraines
Arrogance
People who assume you're a liar
When disaster lies in wait
Geological vortexes
Misty of Chincoteague
"Stroke It" by Clarence Carter
Flesh-eating anything
Suicidal animals
Suicidal people
Heather Graham
Brazil nuts
Wearing bracelets while trying to write or type
Irresponsible gun use
Irresponsible punctuation use
Hairspray (the product)
People who are "hunting satanists"
Family conflict
Pantyhose
Intolerance
Paper cuts
Impending doom
Lamb dishes
Mint Jelly
The American Healthcare System
People who go around slamming doors and stuff
Tardiness
Feeling helpless
Any creature that burrows into flesh
Not having enough money
Exacto Knives
Broken picture frames
Too many apps
Biters
Haters
Adam West (he's a poor man's Shatner)
Denise Richards
Dried up paint
Malfunctioning

Exercises for Writers

2009-03-13T11:11:00.002-04:00

I pulled this list of writing exercises off of J.C. Hewitt's website http://www.poewar.com. To honor the author's wishes I will only post each exercise on the day I do the exercise, and you can find the whole list at http://www.poewar.com/fifteen-craft-exercises-for-writers/. Let's all try these!

1. "Pick ten people you know and write a one-sentence description for each of them. " (Hewitt)

a. My mother is a classically beautiful woman who looks years younger than she is.
b. My father is a people-person who is both dynamic and charming.
c. Dwight is the most likeable person you'll ever meet, but I am his biggest fan.
d. Katie has no idea how brilliant she really is, but one day she will find out and then we'll all be in trouble.
e. My cousin Melissa has a wonderful sense of humor; a trait that comes in handy when you teach first grade.
f. My friend Johanna is probably the smartest person I've ever met.
g. Blessed with the gift of gab and true comic timing, most of the time I don't care whether or not Kevin is telling the truth or using original material.
h. Lori Jo has the patience of a saint.
i. Dale has a heart bigger than most people's.
j. I know myself, I just wish I liked myself better.

A Pity Party

2009-03-11T10:17:00.000-04:00

When I was a kid, I used to get excited for my birthday about 10 days early. Now that I am older, I start dreading it 5-10 days before it happens. I have people tell me all the time that I'm so young - that I shouldn't complain about my age. They roll their eyes and sarcastically say, "Oh yeah, you're so old".

Well, I am old. Older than I was last year, and the year before that. Can I help it that I have an overdeveloped sense of my own mortality? Of course I can't. Can I help it that I keep a mental list of things I haven't done yet, and that I worry that I'll never do them? Maybe...Maybe I shouldn't care about the things I haven't done, and celebrate what I have done. Maybe I should look at that list as a "nice to do" and leave it at that.

Travel: I really want to go to Europe and see Paris, Rome, Dublin, Athens, Naples, Edinburgh, Barcelona, London, and more. I want to go to India, I want to go to Japan, I want to go to tropical places, I want to go to Pitcairn, I want to see the Galapagos Islands, I want to go to Austrailia, Iceland, and see pretty much all of South America. This takes money, and time. I have neither.

Children: Every year, more and more people tell me that the older you get, the harder it is to have kids. "Don't wait TOO long", they say. I'm not ready. Dwight isn't ready. "Well you're NEVER ready - if you wait until you're ready you'll never do it!" I have no ticking of the biological clock persuasion. Not just yet, at least. I'm finally at the point where the thought doesn't freak me out completely. One day at a time, folks.

Education: I'm whittling away at this one. I finish my BA in May, I've applied for a MA program. Of course if I get in it will mean diving into about ten grand worth of school loan debt, and it will be hard to do another four or five semesters of full time work and full time school, and I can't be completely sure that I can keep it up for four or five more semesters. Is it really smart to go into more debt? Is my ultimate goal attainable? Will I be able to get my PhD and still have a job and have kids? Will I be sacrificing my quality of life in order to answer this literary impulse? Is it an impulse or a calling?

Ah well. Self reflection is good for you. It is helpful to ask yourself questions. Keeps your priorities straight and yourself on track. I guess...

Pet Feeding, Part Three

2009-03-08T11:43:00.003-04:00

The 3rd Installment

Note how Jake wants nothing to do with Scarlett, even though she's trying to be all sweet.

Dwight is ALMOST finished mixing the food. He hasn't very much liked that I told all three of you who read this that it takes him forever to mix the food. So sensitive...

Pet Feeding Time, Part Two

2009-03-05T23:33:00.003-05:00

Because I know you can't wait.

First off, Jake is in his kennel because he goes PSYCHO at the mention of dinner. Second, it takes Dwight FOREVER to mix the food together. Third, how CUTE is Jake in that shot?

Pets

2009-03-03T20:40:00.002-05:00

A few things you should know about us before you watch this video:

we recycle, so that big pile of bags and bottles and boxes you see between the cat dishes and the microwave? That's not trash. It's clean recyling stuff for the nice recycling people who pick up our recycling.
The Kitty thinks she should be fed all the time, every day. You will notice that she is not exactly skinny. We feed her a reasonable amount, and try to exercise her every day. She's just voluptous.
Dwight takes FOREVER to get the animal's food ready. FOREVER. This video series will illustrate that point. I do not show this to complain about that. It is just a fact.
When my dad's brother had his first kid, he'd take endless videos of her rolling over in her crib. Not too interesting to a 6-year-old, but now I understand. When they're yours, they are cute. I hate to think what we'll be like when we have kids. We're pretty stupid about our pets.

If one were to do a blow-by-blow, it might go a little something like this...

Cat: It's food time.
Me: What Kitty? What is it Kitty?
Cat: Whatareya? Stupid? It's food time. Foooood tiiiiimmmeeee.
Me: Whosis Kitty? Issiboo Kitty?
Cat: Honestly.
Me: Whoosiewhatcheeissiboo Kitty?
Cat: I'm going over here to check on the progress of my dinner.
*cat's tail twiches uncontrollably*
*cat wonders what is taking so long. cat wishes she could see up on the island. maybe he should be giving her more food.
*cat thinks that the spoon and dry food sound sounds closer to being done*
Cat: Better mosey on over to my....Run! The food! It's coming! Better hurry!
Cat: WTF?

The End. Stay tuned for the next thrilling installment of Pet Feeding Time at the Johnson Home.

Snow Day

2009-03-02T21:29:00.002-05:00

Today was a snow day. I finished the John Cusack article for http://www.toptenz.net/, answered work emails, and then worked on my paper for Immigrant literature, which I have changed sixteen times since the two times I blogged about it. Sheesh. Tomorrow, from the time I wake up (EARLY) until it's time to log into work (11 AM) I am going to finish it. Then I will work on a spreadsheet project I have pending. Fun. Then I will study for Poli Sci. Sometime before 5 I will finish a special project I'm working on for a friend, then I will try to clean part of the house.

Ambitious, aren't I?

Jake, as it turns out, likes the snow. It snowed 7 or 8 inches here. This is what it looked like from my front porch:

And here are the poor vehicles, all covered in snow:

And here is Jake, enjoying the snow a whole whole bunch.
My herculean hubby hauled all the heavy snow out of the driveway. That was really nice of him, seeing as how I can't even set one toe on snow without causing myself serious bodily harm. Grace. Grace is not my name.

Everyone Loves a Parade

2009-03-01T12:44:00.004-05:00

Reposted from another blog: August of 2004

My parents used to live in Abingdon, VA. Here is a reposting of a blog I blogged about it:

So, to pick up where I left off... After the long road trip, I got some much-needed rest. Woke up the next morning and went to the Abingdon DMV, which is like our DMV, only smaller and next to a barn. My dad calls Abingdon "The Kingdom of Abingdon". He really gets into it. Love it there. My mom thinks it's hell on earth. I think it's charming, yet sick. So, that's a pretty even compromise. After the DMV (which took all of about 15 minutes canyoubelieveit) Dad had to pick up his drycleaning. Behind the drycleaners there is this "spray it your damnself" car wash place. Pretty standard for a small town... Except there were a bunch of overweight men standing around. Oh wait, this is southwest virginia....that's pretty standard too. So I guess the only odd thing about it was that they were all dressed up like CLOWNS. Agh! It's a bad dream come true! So I ask one of Abingdon's finest, "What's going on?" "Oh those guys? They're just getting ready for the parade." Sweet. What I've negelected to mention was this this was the opening weekend of the annual "West Highlands Festival" K. So apparently they kick it off each year with a parade. Sounds good to me. I'm expecting to see aforementioned clowns, little kids wth batons, maybe a high school marching band. But no. My dad and I walked up to this guy's shop (he was the home inspector on their house, runs a photography studio, and owns an artsy fartsy retail shop that sells local art, not local art, fancy jewelry, fancy perfume, etc. ) to stand on the porch and watch the parade. I'm excited, because now that the sun is bright and shining, maybe the clowns won't be so bad. After dodging Captian Artsy Local Man's attempts to invade my personal space (as I watched my dad's blood pressure rise) and finding myself a nice spot on the OTHER side of the porch, I watched as three or four 1930' s cars went by (driven by the clowns, of course). Then it got better. The cars gave way to mini floats made out of cars with stuff like bales of hay on the back, moonshine stills, etc. Each guy trying to outdo the other. All dressed like clowns. Makeup and everything--every single one of them. In case you haven't guessed, this was a shriner's parade. Jericho Lodge #34 with the Illustrious Potentate behind the wheel. Out came the little mini cars--zooming around with their clown-clad drivers knees practically up to his ears. Little mini scooters, four wheelers, sports cars, vintage cars, motorcycles--all wee vehicles. Who makes these things? Is there a kit you can buy? Is there a Wee Vehicle Store? The Mini Car Emporium? Do you have to be a shriner to shop there, or do shriner's just get a discount? Do wanna-be shriners hang out there and get made fun of by the real shriners? I have to know these things. I will know these things, I think to myself. Now, this is the south, so you know they were all waving like crazy. And, one even came over and told me I wasn't smiling enough. I smiled really big then, and through clenched teeth asked, "Mr. Mongo, where do y'all buy your little cars and things?" He told me it was a secret, and that if he told me he'd have to kill me. Given that I'm afraid of clowns already, I didn't push the issue. So the little motorcycles, sports cars, suvs, all the wee vehicles go by, zooming around, driving in formation, passing each other....the little sports cars even peeled out little tiny tire marks on the main drag of The Kingdom Of Abingdon (a country song in the making, obviously). I'm pretty amused by this point. Dad is talking Creepy Art Man's ear off, so I'm left to enjoy the cacophony of shriner madness. Each section had it own music, of course, and I'd be lying if I told you that not a one of them was playing Dixie. (Down there it's not racisim--it's Southern Pride with a capital Outhern, if you know what I mean) The one little cart with the moonshine still (yes, I'm backtracking, leave me alone) was playing (of course) Whiskey In The Jar. No, not the Metallica version. Oh, but what's this? The wee cars have given way to FULL SIZE MOTORCYLCES. Driven by CLOWNS. Driving FORMATIONS!!!!! Loud, rumbling, gleaming chromed beauties ridden by guys in oversized shoes. Amazing. Then, some vans. You know, just for good measure. One huge 18 wheeler with "Jericho Lodge #6, Washington County, VA helps Burned and Crippled Children" I promise you I didn't make that up. Another van that made the same claim, from Marion, VA. All told I'd say there were about 19 or 20 different lodges represented. The guys were smiling, even through their sad clown make up. They were driving their wee stinky cars. They were having a blast. That moonshine still was real. You shoulda been there. **Note--I realize I asked a lot of questions in this blog, but if you know any of the answers, don't tell me. You'll ruin the surprise. I'm going to do the research and figure out the answers on my own for educational purposes. I'll let you know what I find out. P.S. The car behind the "Runaround Sue" cart with the blowup doll had a bunch of guys in their underwear and Ray Steven's song about shriners was playing. Oh, how the shriners love their irony....

I totally changed my mind

2009-03-01T12:02:00.000-05:00

So the Christ In Concrete and The Fortunate Pilgrim paper? I'm changing my assigment choice to this:

"Most of the texts we have read propose starkly different models of assimilation - or immigrant success - for men and women. Wht models of gender inform these theories? What learned behaviors or innate traits make women or men particularly suited to survive and thrive in an American context?"

This is better because I really want to talk about Lucia Santa from The Fortunate Pilgrim and how she didn't assimilate so much as learn how to stay Italian within America. It actually has a lot to do with her being a woman (a strong woman) in a matricarchal role with no patricarch to act as a foil. So gender has a lot to do with her success. But gender has a lot to do with Paul's little bit of success in Christ In Concrete, and a lot more to do with his dissapointment in what America has to offer. Neither book shows a clear picture of an Old World identity - at least not a character's identity. Neither book takes place in Italy at all - there are just parts that talk about the Old World (more in FP than CIC). So the first essay question I planned to respond to wasn't entirely appropriate for what I want to talk about. I'll post it when I'm finished and it's been turned in. Don't want to get accused of plagarizing my own writing...

Literary Criticism Response Paper

2009-03-01T11:53:00.001-05:00

This is what I turned in for a response to a piece of literary criticism. I am aware that it kind of sucks, but I'm hoping to get some feedback and revise it, since I'm keen on the topic, and I really disagree with the essay I responded to:

Alice Hall Petry’s essay, “Coming of Age in Hortons Bay: Hemingway’s ‘Up in Michigan’” calls Hemingway’s story the “touching portrait of a female character”. Petry goes on to attempt to prove that the female character, Liz Coates is in the midst of a “sexual awakening” when the graphic encounter at the dock occurs, but that Liz is far too young and innocent to know what to expect regarding the actual mechanics of physical love. Petry says that Liz’s passion for him has an “obsessive nature”, but even though Liz desperately wants Jim’s attention, the affection she receives is “literally not what she had in mind”. Furthermore, Petry comments at length on Hemingway’s “obvious” sexual undertones and innuendos, and insists that his “use of sexual diction and puns is so blatant that it seems clear that the very title of the story is an obscenity.”
The gist of Petry’s essay is this: Liz Coates is an innocent character plagued by sexual feelings she does not understand. She is infatuated (nay obsessed) with Jim Gilmore, a boorish, “flat” character, who pays no attention to Liz until she becomes convenient to satisfy a primitive urge. Petry comments that as the story progresses that the language and use of puns become increasingly sexually suggestive – almost indicating that the innocent Liz is surrounded by and consumed by the sexually aggressive world of men and falls victim to urges she cannot possibly understand.

The beauty of literary criticism is that much art is subjective, and no author more than Ernest Hemingway wanted his reader to draw his/her own conclusions about his work. Therefore the purpose here is not to prove Ms. Petry wrong, only to offer an alternate interpretation of the text.

Certain points Ms. Petry makes are congruent with an alternate view. For instance, Jim Gilmore is not a particularly rounded character, but one could argue that neither is Liz. While we have more insight into what Liz is thinking, Liz herself is a primitive character. Her affection for Jim is largely based on simple observations she’s made, as we see in the most often-discussed paragraph:

“Liz liked Jim very much. She liked it the way he walked from the shop and often went to the kitchen door to watch for him to start down the road. She liked it about his mustache. She liked it about how white his teeth were when he smiled. She liked it very much that he didn’t look like a blacksmith. She liked it how much D.J. Smith and Mrs. Smith liked Jim. One day she found that she liked it the way the hair was black on his arms and how white they were above the tanned line when he washed up in the washbasin outside. Liking that made her feel funny.” (81)

Petry makes many statements about this paragraph. One is that Liz’s list of things she likes about Jim “conveys the flimsy basis of Liz’s infatuation.” She goes on to say that because of the list of things Liz likes, it indicates that Liz might not have her mind on the future, that her infatuation with Jim might be fleeting. Additionally, Petry sites Sheldon Norman Grebstein to explain that the repetition contained in the paragraph “conveys the obsessive behavior of her passion”, and that Liz’s affection for Jim is spurred and encouraged by the validation she feels at the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Smith like Jim.
An alternative reading of the same paragraph could yield different conclusions. For instance, the repetition of “she liked” was addressed in The Apprenticeship of Ernest Hemingway (a text mentioned in Petry’s footnotes). In it, Gertrude Stein called the device “wholly a sue of repetition for emphasis and clarification”, which could indicate that Hemingway used that particular device to emphasize to the reader that Liz “liked Jim very much”, and that the basis for her liking were the things she had observed thus far. Her discovery of the fact that she liked to see Jim’s bare arms and the realization that it made her “feel funny” could merely be Liz’s realization that the more she learned about Jim the more she liked him. That alone could make her “feel funny”.

Additionally, Liz’s regarding of the Smiths as parental figures, as well as the assumption that Liz is very young and completely innocent is not necessarily supported by text. It is easy to assume that Liz is young because of her simple sentiments and because of her use of “something” and “it” in her point of view of the sex act itself. Conversely, there is no textual evidence to debunk the theory that Liz might not be quite so young, and quite so ignorant to the mechanics of the sexual act. It is possible that Hemingway’s intention of placing the story in a rural part of Michigan was to show the simplicity and primitive nature of life there. Just because Liz did not assign words to “it”, it does not necessarily mean that she does not have an at least general idea of what “it” entails.

During the dock scene, we know that Liz is frightened and unaware of exactly what is in store. It is not explicitly stated that Liz is completely unaware of what COULD be in store. She thinks that she “didn’t know who he was going to go about things but snuggled close to him”. This would indicate that she knew that there was something Jim had to “go about”, and more importantly, that she is willing to do whatever Jim wants her to do.

While Petry suggests that the thing that “clicks” inside Liz is still completely unknown to her, the fact remains that Liz is being fondled by Jim, that she feels Jim “right through the back of her chair”, and that she feels “warmer and softer”. One could argue that if Liz was so completely innocent to such carnal things that the fact that she had been groped and that she could feel anatomical evidence of Jim’s intentions, that she would have cried for help or excused herself from the room. She might have slapped Jim, or she might have run away. She might have said no to his request to take a walk. Liz may be innocent, but we could assume that Hemingway does not want us to think she is stupid. Petry suggests that Liz “takes Jim at his word” when she agrees to go for a walk, suggesting that Liz is completely unaware of what is to happen on the dock. Petry says that “Liz was, in effect, destined to copulate with him, in view of both her ignorance, vulnaribility, confusion, and awakening sexuality, as well as Jim’s comparative experience”

Liz’s ignorance, at this point in the story, must be eclipsed by the intensity of primitive human sexual urges she was privy to in the kitchen. After being groped and kissed roughly by Jim, Liz has had a taste of Jim’s intentions, and even the most innocent and ignorant human woman would have to know that Jim’s intentions would take the situation to a more intense place, rather than less of one. Furthermore, if Liz is truly going through a “sexual awakening”, physiologically she would have urges that would drive her to the act with Jim. Our interpretation does not hold with Liz’s preported “sexual awakening” that Petry suggests is separate from Liz’s infatuation with Jim. In fact, our interpretation suggests that any awakening on Liz’s part is directly related to her feelings for Jim, which (right or wrong) increase with this new attention, regardless of the intentions behind them. Put simply, Liz likes Jim very much, and wants Jim to like her. We are meant to understand that, and to understand that while Liz’s understand might not be complete, it is enough for her to have the gist.

There is also little textual evidence to suggest that Jim has so much experience. As Petry pointed out earlier, we do not have a great deal of information on Jim. The earlier statement of Jim being a primitive character enters in here. Jim likes to hunt, to work, to drink, to have a nice place to sleep, to enjoy the mainly visceral pleasure of life. All we know for sure about Liz is that she likes Jim. One could imagine that Hemingway took some pleasure in creating this little scene for us, almost a primitive mating scenario, in that Jim and his concerns for the basic comforts run across a patiently waiting and opportunely-placed Liz, and the natural order of things followed. Granted it was painful, frightening, and unpleasant for Liz, but at the risk of sounding insensitive, most female first sexual experiences are. We could imagine that the irony and sadness Hemingway tried to convey relate to, yes, the difference between a man and a woman’s idea of love, romance, and mating, but also to the human condition and how it relates to expectation, love, and life in general. Maybe what Hemingway was trying to say is that in a lot of ways, we are no better than animals. Jim for his need to satiate his desires, Liz in her need to protect and nurture without the comfort of romantic platitudes and pledges.

In her criticism, Petry tries very hard to stress the sexual undertones of the story. In fact, she contradicts herself often by not clarifying how Liz could be completely “non-carnal” while going through a “sexual awakening”. A person cannot be both, even if the person going through the sexual awakening is unaware of what is happening to them. A sexual awakening, by nature, is accompanied by sexual feelings and urges. Petry seems to think that a human animal is able to separate urge from awareness, while we could argue that even if Liz didn’t know the names for things, she felt how she felt, and those feelings were rather explicit.

While Petry suggests that the title “Up in Michigan’ is actually a sexual innuendo, one could argue that the simple title indicates not only a location, but also the state of mind one finds in a rural community. Support for this interpretation is found, ironically enough, in Petry’s footnotes, where she clarifies that Philip Young (Hemingway expert) “argues that the title is a ‘sardonic allusion’ to ‘a popular song of the period which praised the bucolic virtues of life in that region’”.

Petry also attaches sexual meaning to the description of the dead deer when the men come back from the trip, and even ties together the fact that Jim killed a deer with the use of the word “death” as a substitute for the word “orgasm”. If Hemingway was writing a story about the tragedy of human relationships, as proposed in our alternate interpretation, one could doubt the validity of Petry’s argument. Hemingway’s picture of this rural Horton’s Bay and it’s day-to-day life is a vivid enough picture of the mindset “up” there. One could say that the story is more primitively-charged than sexually-charged. In a day-to-day world there is death, work, food, and whatever you can draw out of life.

Petry decided not to tackle a certain statement. Even though Liz tells Jim “no”, she thinks that she “wanted it”, and that “she had to have it”. Just like when Liz thinks “he’s come to me finally”, we get the idea that Liz might have urges, but more than anything she likes Jim very much, and wants Jim to want her, therefore she is willing to do whatever she has to keep him close. “Everything felt gone”, but we propose that everything would have felt gone, no matter what, because that is human nature.
It still is not a pretty picture, which is probably why Hemingway considered this to be a sad story. Ironically, Petry uses the same sentiment at the end of her essay, right after she says that Liz’s experience on the dock takes away her attractive neatness. Liz can restore her neatness, she can restore her composure, but she will never be the same, because she has had a glimpse into the heart of the world, and saw that it was cold there, and that we are ultimately alone.

So much to do and it's almost noon

2009-03-01T11:35:00.000-05:00

I am writing a paper on Christ In Concrete and The Fortune Pilgrim. Here is the assignment:

"In the texts that we have read, we have seen very different relationships between a character's Old World and New World selves. Looking at two or three of the texts we have read, discuss the relationship between the self in the country of origin and the Americanized self. Is it possible for the two selves to coexist? Is continuity between the former and present self possible? What kinds of theory of identiy are proposed in these tets and what larger conclusions can you draw from this about the project of becoming (or not becoming) American?"

I chose these two texts because there is the lack of assimilation in both. The characters in these books are trying to become Americans, necessarily, but they are trying to adapt to American life, and trying to eke out an existence in extreme poverty - which they were trying to do back in Italy. The Fortunate Pilgrim, especially, speaks to the opportunities in America - and how the new dreams available to immigrants in America can both benefit and destroy an immigrant's soul.

So I'm not following the assignment EXACTLY, especially since the two best examples of what the assignment is asking are Yekl (from Yekl & The Imported Bridegroom), and Mary Antin's first person narraive in The Promised Land. She goes so far as to say that her Old World self died when her New World self was born.

The thing is, I really really loved The Fortunate Pilgrim and want to write about. I could compare Mary Antin to Lucia Santa, but their points of view are so different that I would be comparing and contrasting rather than drawing a definitive conclusion. There is a definite common thread between the idea of America in Christ In Concrete and the idea of America in The Fortunate Pilgrim.

Dwight is going this week to play music with a guy from work and his band. I'm excited for him, as he really does need that creative outlet, and he is so talented that it's a shame to keep all that bottled up. He's going to play keyboard, which is great, but it would really groovy if he practiced on the keyboard downstairs, rather than the piano in the den. It's out of tune, it sounds like it's about to come through the wall where I'm sitting and trying to work, and it's distracting. I don't want to say anything, though, because I don't want to discourage him. I guess I'll deal.

Jake Update

2009-02-28T10:46:00.001-05:00

We actually shot this video a little while ago - but it gives you an idea of the cuteness. Note that it isn't our Spastic Pooch making all those annoying barking sounds. It is the bitter pitt bull in the diagonal yard. He's a nuiscence barker. It's not his fault.

And with this 122nd blog post, you get a cookie!

2009-02-22T18:37:00.002-05:00

Just kidding. No cookies.

I can't believe how hard I thought about a stinkin' 2-page paper, and how hard I worked on it, and how much it ended up sucking. I'll post it here, but you'll be without the benefit of the critical essay I responded to, because you can't find it online, and you'd have to go to a library, which I'm pretty sure you're not going to do, and I'm not about to get arrested for showing you a literary critical response that is all licensed and crap that you're not supposed to find on the internet.

And, incidentally, thank God for proofreading, because it just saved me from making an even more egregious grammatical error than I probably already inadvertantly made.

Jeez, talk much?

Hey Mr. Cunningham

2009-02-18T23:47:00.001-05:00

In an interview I read recently, Tom Waits said that one of the most powerful scenes he ever saw in a movie was when Scout said "Hey Mr. Cunningham" outside the jail cell in To Kill A Mockingbird.

I agree. Ol' Scout really takes the wind out of the proverbial lynching sails when she brings it all home for the good ol' boys ready to act on the lie of the local drunk.

If you haven't read To Kill A Mockingbird lately, or seen the movie, go do it. It's good for your soul.

Highlights of the Eleventy Hundred Dreams I Had Last Night

2009-02-17T07:34:00.002-05:00

I have anywhere between 5 and a million dreams in any given night. I can usually only remember one or two but this morning is a mish-mosh so enjoy the "quick & dirty":

1. Posh Spice informing me that her parents are making her move to Detroit, Ohio and me telling her that the shopping is really good there. Yes, I know that Detriot is in Michigan. In my dream it was in Ohio.

Note: funny enough, I think this one was because I was reading a book full of critical essays on Hemingway's depiction of Michigan in his short stories. Random.

2. Realizing that being the Catcher In The Rye that Holden Caulfield talked about would be difficult, because it was my job to catch running toddlers finished with the limbo line and they were FAST.

Dwight mentioned that he needed to finish reading The Catcher In the Rye night before last. I guess it took my brain a day to catch up.

3. The one where I'm supposed to be playing rhythm guitar for Aerosmith, except that I don't know how to play rhythm guitar and I have just had a big fight with all the guys in Aerosmith.

So typical. I know.

4. The shot I have to give myself for the psoriasis had a side effect of me being able to read thoughts, but only in strangers, leaving me the creepy person who picks thoughts out of the heads of strangers and not being able to keep my mouth shut about it.

?

5. I was on a huge Pathwords board and I had to crawl around and touch the letters with my forehead to make the words.

I need to take a break from Pathwords, apparently.

Whoops

2009-02-14T10:53:00.001-05:00

So I was at a meeting on Friday morning, and this is what happened:

She walked me out to the lobby, shook my hand, and as I tried to suavely turn around and put my coat on at the same time I gracefully fell into and over a chair that was situated attractively if not inconveniently (for me) near the door. I don't have the descriptive prowess to accurately describe the scene, but I will tell you that I have sore muscles from the amount of control I had to exert in order to not land on the floor. I guess it was something about the trajectory of my body in the turn, and how the chair was placed and where it hit me on my body. If I hadn't tried - if I'd just let myself fall - I would have bounced off the chair and landed on the floor. Classy.

Of course the person I was meeting with asked if I was OK. I responded "Yes, if we can just pretend that didn't just happen."

Purple-faced, I told the person I was meeting with and the office manager to have a nice weekend, swallowed the half-hysterical lump in my throat, and left.

You never get a second chance to make a first impression, right?

Failed Facebook Status Updates

2009-02-10T14:03:00.003-05:00

So Facebook. It's quite a phenomenon. When you think about it, it's kind of scary. You're not connecting with random folks because you like their band (ala Myspace) and you're not really finding new friends. You're connecting with people you already know (most of the time), and you're putting yourself out there in a really, well, public way. I mean, if I update my status to say, "Liz is crying uncontrollably", there is going to be some fallout from putting that out there. Luckily, it's good fallout, in the form of "Are you OK?" and "What's wrong?", but it's something that your coworkers, your family members, your friends, and people you haven't spoken to or seen in years and years are going to see.

So I guess the main point here is the Status Update, not so much Facebook itself. You can use Facebook and NOT update your status (but what fun is that, really?) and it's not as (some people might say "exhibitionist" but I shy away from that) public as users who use the Status Upate feature. Plus, you've got to admit that you learn more about people who use the feature than the people who don't. First, you learn that they are willing to be that much more open about their life and daily activities, and second, it involves you in their life in a way that you wouldn't normally be involved. It makes you an active participant in that person's life, at least for that moment that they chose to update their status with something like "Joe is watching The Simpsons" or "Mary thinks it's Miller Time". Of course, you don't want to be TOO involved with people's lives. Here are some situations where I think that it would be best to NOT update your status:

1. Joe is poisoning his neighbor's Pomeranian. With arsenic. Right now.
2. Mary is getting paid to take her clothes off.
3. Joe has explosive diarrhea.
4. Mary just ate an entire quart of Ben & Jerry's and quickly regurgitated it.
5. Joe just emailed naked pictures of his ex-fiance to her parents.
6. Mary is going to fake symptoms to get pain medicine at a Patient First.
7. Joe is laundering money.
8. Mary is telling her children that Santa Claus died because they were bad.
9. Joe is shouting at his girlfriend while putting his fist through the wall.
10. Mary just slept with her sister's husband.

So I think what we see here is a fine line between what is appropriate for public consumption and what is beyond the pale when it comes to privacy and propriety. Also, hopefully not everyone engages in illegal activity. But if they do, we sure don't want to hear about it, do we, Folks?

More Jake

2009-02-09T07:27:00.003-05:00

Since yesterday was so nice, we did a lot of playing outside with Jake. He's so high energy but doesn't really have a lot of focus. No interest in chasing the ball, but he likes this discus-type thing I bought. He doesn't want to catch it, he just wants to bring it to me and then play tug-of-war with it. I have a video of that, but it's not near as hilarious without audio, so let me work on that before I roll it out as the Most Ferocious Dog Ever video. I wish Dwight had the camera on us at one point, when every bit of Jake left the ground in his attempt to vanquish the floppy Wal-Mart discus.

Anyway, here is a little video of Jake loving on his new parents. We adopted him officially on Saturday. So, meet Jake Chambers of Richmond Johnson.

C'mon 60 Degrees

2009-02-06T08:29:00.000-05:00

At the risk of sounding like a trivial blogger, I want to talk about the weather for a minute. I hate, and I mean hate, the cold. I know we should be glad for it to be cold because it means that the global warming isn't melting positively every single iceberg in the whole world right this minute, but as a arthritic psoriatic (and also an enormous wussy) I would rather go south and wait for this chill to pass.

Looming unemployment and being smack in the thick of my last semester of my undergrad, traveling is not really an option right now. So I'm trying to think of ways to stay warm and feel better without spending a lot of money, going anywhere, or staying in the bathtub 24/7. Because that would seriously hamper my productivity.

Stay tuned for my findings, which are sure to be a poor substitute for, say, Florida.

Can't Stop The Cuteness

2009-02-03T07:48:00.001-05:00

I'll have to be sure to get some shots outside during the daytime, so that he doesn't look so devilish...

Citzen Cope

2009-02-03T07:39:00.003-05:00

We went to the Citizen Cope show at the National on Friday. Our buddy Jeff had VIP tickets, so we used the VIP bar, had nifty seats, etc. My favorite thing about the whole experience? The chandelier in the VIP bar.

I also really liked the opening act a lot - a little lady named Mieka Pauley. Little lady, great big voice. She did a cover of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah (one of my top ten favorite songs of all time) that gave me chills.

The main act was good. Very gracious to the audience, excited to be there, and the audience was pretty stoked. I was doubly glad we were in VIP because the floor was absolutely crawling with people.

I ventured downstairs to buy Mieka's CD and almost got trampled, plus the myraid of little girls in unfortunately cut tops had their arms flailing in sheer happiness to see each other (even though they came there together) and I'm surprised nobody lost an eye. Yep. I'm getting old.

Jake Chambers of Richmond

2009-01-28T22:16:00.004-05:00

Jake is a delight to be around. He is so, well, ENTHUSIASTIC about life. I guess that comes from being a dog, though I'm extremely prejudiced and think that he's got an exceptionally great demeanor, even for a dog. I think he's really happy to be here. Dwight's happy about it too.

He stretches a lot, which makes me think he's still growing. I think he's a lot younger than we initially thought.

We got him this big silky pillow at Wal-Mart and he really likes to sit on it.

And sleep on it.

I know it's stupid, but I can't help but think about the fact that Jake had this whole other life before we met him, and that he can't just tell us about it. I mean, we can speculate till the cows come home, but we don't know for sure. And never will. Take that, Control Freak Tendencies. I have a couple possible pasts in mind:

1) He was a farm dog. The favorite of the litter, he would ride around in the truck with the kindly old farmer. He slept in the barn at night and chased all the barn cats. One tragic day the farmer died, and his closest kin came to settle the affairs of the farm. Unfortunately for Jake, the closest kin was the farmer's city-slickin' son who closed down the farm and took all the animals to the closest animal control facility. There Jake sat for days and days, confused and hurt by the heartbreaking turn of events. The Henrico Humane Society picked him up, took him to the vet, and then put him out on display in front of the Petco, hoping that a nice family would take him home. Enter Dwight and me, who met him and wanted to take him home. The rest is history (that we're making right now).

2) He was part of a puppy farm (illegal puppy breeding factory things). He escaped, was caught on the road, hoping to catch a ride with a nice trucker or bus driver. He got picked up by Amelia County animal control, and the rest follows.

3) He was traveling around Amelia County, searching for intellegent life. He heard a human coming, and quickly morphed into dog form, when he was picked up and the rest follows as above. He has since decided that he likes to be in dog form, and will stay that way until the Mothership appears.

No matter what the circumstances, I'm glad he's here. Plus, he does this funny burrowing-wiggling around thing:

He's not weird. Not at all.

Time to Expand the Family

2009-01-24T16:08:00.000-05:00

Internet, meet Jake.

We will be fostering Jake starting tomorrow. We met him at Petco, at a Humane Society adoption drive. Nobody knows where he came from, how old he is, or what his story is, but we already know that he doesn't know basic commands and he just wants to be hugged. A lot.

We will likely adopt him, but since he was so new to the shelter they wanted us to foster first. I am deeply smitten, so you'll probably be hearing a lot about him in the weeks to come.

Backlog of Stuff

2009-01-18T19:39:00.003-05:00

I keep thinking, "Hey I need to blog about this" about stuff and then I don't. I know it's certainly not breaking anyone's heart and nobody is checking every day to see if I've dropped any more pearls of wisdom on this website. I shall continue nonetheless.

What's been new lately? Still slowing losing my job. I love the lady I'm working for now - she's brilliant and hilarious and I respect the crap out of her, so that's really nice. It's interesting and horribly depressing watching a company go through everything this company has been through. It's also pretty weird to be the person who helps the CEO get ready to leave the company forever. I will remember this time forever - the sad parts and how much I'm learning about how bankruptcies work and how the morale is dipping into the very pits of despair. I try to stay cheerful through it all and make myself as useful as possible.

I'm going to start a blog documenting the progress of the Enbrel (the psoriasis medicine I'm starting this week). It will prove helpful to me in keeping me aware of how the medicine is actually performing, and maybe it will be helpful to other people out there (since there are, after all, 125 million people int he world with psoriasis) who are considering this expensive and kind of risky therapy. I'll provide a link for it here (after it's up) in case you're interested in reading it.

I promised an Emma update a while ago, but wanted to double check that it was OK to post video. Turns out I have carte blanche, so submitted for your enjoyment, here is Emma singing her favorite song from The Little Mermaid:

Hands down, the cutest kid ever. We had a really nice time hanging out with her and her parents - we don't get to see her mamma as often (she works a LOT and just finished college) so it was nice to just have some dinner and watch a movie. We watched Sleeping Beauty, which is probably my favorite pre-Disney Renaissance flick. And, best Disney villian ever. I enjoyed the heck out of it. I also made a kick-ass pork tenderloin. I will post the recipe soon.

Motivation

2009-01-11T14:55:00.000-05:00

I was tired of looking like a disheveled homeless person, so I went to Kenny (Kenny Fantastic, I call him) at Supercuts and had him mow the back of my head a little. I no longer have a semi-mullet, so while I am no longer ironic and kitschy, I could pass for a professional person...if I stay away from the baggy jeans and sneakers.

I also got my eyebrows waxed. I'm ready, as they say, for anything. I suppose.

Update

2009-01-07T17:52:00.002-05:00

So for once I have almost as many saved posts as posted posts, and I'm working on perfecting them all to delight and entertain my audience of exactly two people. Luckily for me, those two people are very important to me so I strive to impress, if only to hear, "Hey Liz, nice blog the other day".

It's been a tumultous week at work, and I'm just praying for one, two, eight, twenty, thirty more weeks that can be as tumultous as they wanna be, so long as I keep a job through the upcoming semester.

I have an awesome new Emma post with VIDEO, I just have to get her parent's permission to post their child on my blog. She's awesome, and it's possible (remotely, remotely possible) that some legitimate Hollywood person will stumble across my humble blog and offer her parents ten gazillion dollars for similar videos of Her Adorableness, so that's an incentive.

I also have lots to say about the books I've been reading to get ahead of the upcoming semester, and how excited I am about the work I'll be doing in my Senior Seminar class. Just trying to find the time to make it all entertaining enough to validate my presence in this little space.

One day at a time...

Bah Blog

2009-01-01T10:20:00.000-05:00

When I think about this blog it becomes distorted in my mind. I like to think of it as a showcase for my keen observations and acerbic wit, but it's really not. It's really a place where I sluggishly review movies and talk about my various ailments and stresses - so tense and completely stressed out and afraid of saying anything too personal while getting intirely tiresome reporting on migraine after migraine.

Enough.

This is my New Year's Resolution to myself. I want a blog that's fun for ME to read, whether or not it's fun for anyone else to read. Back in my early blogging days I used to chuckle out loud when I wrote a blog. I would feel smug and self-satisfied when I went back and read them. I want that back. I want to feel smug and self-satisfied. I want the word venom.

Augh and a movie review

2008-12-28T15:22:00.003-05:00

Sinus infection. Blech.

I watched "Tom and Viv" yesterday. It starred Willem Dafoe as T.S. Eliot (one of my favorites) and Miranda Richardson as his first wife, Vivienne Haigh-Wood. I get why they cast ol' Willem in the role of T.S. There are a few scenes where he looks kind of like him, and from what I've heard of old recordings, he sounds like him too. Shoot, for all I know T.S. Eliot was a passionless, emotionless wooden dude with no vocal inflection or facial expressions. I kinda doubt it though, because so many people really did like him and people don't ususally like hanging out with emotionless guys like the guy that Willem Dafoe depicted.

Miranda Richardson, on the other hand, was stunning as Eliot's emotionally disturbed first wife. She was absolutely transcendent, and totally deserving of the Oscar nomination she got. I dare say she deserved the 1995 Oscar instead of Jessica Lange (for "Blue Sky").

Rosemary Harris (Aunt May in Spiderman) also snagged a nomination for Best Supporting. She did a fabulous job, but that was the year Dianne Weist won for "Bullets Over Broadway" and Helen Mirren was also nominated, so I'm afraid Harris's understated but lovely portrayal of Rose Haigh-Wood didn't make a big enough of a splash with the academy.

All in all, I was kind of disappointed. I was hoping for a more emotional movie. That might not be historically accurate, but I am wallowing in my sickness and was ready for an ultra-romantic literary snack. This was not it. It's worth check out for Richardson's performance. She's amazing.

Belated Holiday Wishes

2008-12-26T09:15:00.000-05:00

to the two of you who read this. :) I'm sick with a wicked sinus infection so will likely be pontificating soon. First, I have to go into the office. More to follow when I'm back home and snug in bed.

Tis the Season

2008-12-24T08:17:00.001-05:00

New article up on TopTenz: http://www.toptenz.net/worst-movie-santa-clauses.php

Merry Christmas Eve to all of you!

Chrimuzz

2008-12-22T11:08:00.002-05:00

New article up on Top Tenz: http://www.toptenz.net/top-10-bizarre-christmas-traditions.php

Check it out and Digg it! Don't forget to look at all the other fun Christmas lists while you're there!

My, my, my Delilah

2008-12-21T19:50:00.002-05:00

No, this isn't about the awesome song made popular by Tom Jones, although that's had a prominent place in this past weekend. This is about the radio host Delilah, host of "Delilah After Dark", a popular syndicated show. Usually I really like Delilah. When I used to travel I would tune in and feel like I was listening to this really nice friend I knew talk to people and make them feel really special. So, when I ran out to find eggnog I tuned in, because it was on and I was only in the car for a hot minute. I was seriously dissapointed.

This obviously Midwestern guy calls in and says he's baking cookies with his wife so their kids could decorate them tomorrow. He says he just wanted to call and dedicate a song to his beautiful wife, mother of his four beautiful children. Delilah asks if they're sugar cookies. The guy says yes. So Delilah advises the guy not to cook them until they are golden brown, because then they will be too hard to eat. So the guy says that his wife bakes all the time and that she's right over his shoulder "breaking him in" tonight. So Delilah asks "how many children do you have?" HELLO! He said he had four! Then Delilah says "have fun with your wife and kids". Delilah! Obviously the children are already in bed, and he and his wife are staying up to bake the cookies they're going to decorate tomorrow. He dedicated "Merry Christmas Baby" by Bruce Springsteen. That's a grown-up Christmas song! He and the wifey are hanging out in the kitchen, drinking wine and making cookies and possibly working on baby number five. Crappy "phone detective" work, Delilah. Crappy.

100th Post - And Another Migraine

2008-12-20T12:03:00.001-05:00

I don't know what it is about this particular Christmas. Maybe it's the economy or my depresing work situation or just a little 31-year-old midlife crisis but I'm pretty blue. One thing that is helping out (or hurting, depending on how you look at it) is the barrage of Christmas programming on the Lifetime Channel and the Lifetime Movie Network. Heaven help me, I'm enjoying the crap out of these movies. I mean, how many different versions of a Christmas Carol can one company make?

I will say that I've been known to scorn Lifetime programming in the past. In fact, my buddy Shell posted an article I wrote on his website: http://www.toptenz.net/top-10-worst-lifetime-original-movies.php. Either I've changed or they really ramp up the programming for Christmastime, or I'm immune to the crapulence that exudes from the television set. At least I've only allowed myself to watch in the bedroom - where we don't have a DVR and I don't muck up the queue with a bunch of these movies that would surely make Dwight roll his eyes so hard they might hop out of thier sockets.

So, stay tuned for the Top Ten Best Lifetime Christmas Movies. I think I'll write it as soon as someone removes the knife that is lodged firmly above my left eye. Until then I will remain wracked by dirty-house guilt and wallow under the uncomfortably warm comforter and watch the cat lick herself in the flickering glow of a Lifetime Christmas movie starring Neil Patrick Harris and Naomi Watts. DOn't worry. I don't hate myself at all right now. Not at all.

Drawring

2008-12-19T14:23:00.001-05:00

Heaven Help Us

2008-12-18T17:35:00.003-05:00

One of the main reasons I've been neglecting you, Dear Blog, is because I haven't felt like writing about what is going on at work. I've delayed the inevitable as long as possible, and it looks like I could lose my job at any possible moment. Yes, my time at the venerable institution is coming to an end. It could happen Monday, it could happen after Christmas, it could happen at the end of January. It's coming, and I'm stressed, scared, and generally totally depressed.

http://www.timesdispatch.com/rtd/business/local/article/LAND17_20081216-213244/153129/

http://www.inman.com/news/2008/12/17/fidelity-closes-in-landamerica-deal

This deal could mean that many of my co-workers in the field could keep their jobs, so I'm in favor of it, but I don't know how it will affect me and the other workers at the company "headquarters". I guess this is one of those times where I wish I could support myself, husband, and cat with my meager blogging and sheer hope alone. The economy is bad and there are few jobs out there. And for every job out there exists hundreds of qualified applicants.

How does this affect me personally? Well, for one, I am not sure we can afford for me to go to school next semester. Which means that after a lackluster academic start in 1995, a failure and cry of "uncle" in 1999, finally going back and taking night classes (starting in Spring 2007) while working full time and maintaining a 3.83 average (12 classes - 10 A's, 2 B's) I might have gotten to my last 3 classes and have to stop. It's infuriating, and I'm so discouraged that I don't know what to do with myself. I feel like it would be selfish of me to try to allocate the meager funds we'll have to my sizeable tuition when we could be, I don't know, paying rent? Paying off debt? The possibility of finding something that would pay enough, be flexible to let me take a 4:00 class on Mondays and Wednesdays, and that would be easy enough for me to get the hang of without concentrating 100% is darn near impossible. I try to have a que sera sera kind of attitude, but I'm pretty down in the dumps right now.

So. Cherry holiday blog? No. That means I HAVE to blog tomorrow, to make up for it.

Mwa Ha Ha

2008-12-18T08:25:00.002-05:00

I love Things that have Random Capitalization of Nouns (and Adjectives...and Verbs), like an Early 18th Century Novel. I can't give any of the particulars but it went a little something like this. We'll pretend I'm a schoolteacher. Yeah. And this was the letter a student wrote to me to tattle on another student:

Celebrated and Eminent CHAOS MATH TEACHER Professor Z, May The Board of Education Grant You Many Honors For Being an Educator of Young Minds and Grant You the Power to Smite the Unworthy who Stole My Pencil.

Ah, the Holidays

2008-12-15T08:35:00.002-05:00

Poor blog. Did you feel neglected? Did you think I didn't love you anymore? Pish posh. I've been busy riding the work rollercoaster - up & down - merger or no merger? Job or no job? I've got my resume out there but my heart's not in the hunt. I'm in a state of shock. Shock, blog. No kidding.

I've also been documenting the lack of success any product or treatment I try has had on my dermie situation. My ankles and hands are still really bad and I've been taking pictures every few days to see if it's improving. It's not. I plan to publish the results as soon as there are any. I am of the strong opinion that psoriasis is an illness pariah. I'm not trynig to make it chic or anything, but it certainly shouldn't have to be anybody's dirty little secret. Just wait, World. We're not stopping with The Singing Detective. No way.

Blah blah. Finally got Christmassy this weekend. I'll snap a pic of the tree after I get the presents wrapped.

I'm taking the day off to celebrate the end of the semester and straight A's, though I got a B minus on my Brit Lit paper and I'm totally bummed about it, even though I got an A in the class.

I will not spend all day watching E! Entertainment Network and hating myself. I will not spend all day...

Great

2008-11-15T08:45:00.002-05:00

Basement flooded. Bumped my head. Have three papers to write, 200+ pages to read, excel project, and have headache from aforementioned head bump. Crappy Saturday morning...

Here is the culprit. Underneat this stupid concrete-filled barrel is an old well. It takes extra water and dumps it out on the street.

This drain drains (somehow) into the old well. That doesn't make a lot of sense to me, considering the above barrel is about 6 feet up from this drain. I checked this damn drain at 10:30 last night and it was clear. This morning? Leaves. Leaves willy-nilly.Here is the aftermath. Stupid drain. See how high up the water went on the door?

Blast

2008-11-12T20:22:00.002-05:00

The last few days have been full of confused communication and smiling at strangers. If you want to know more about that you'll have to be a friend who talks to me in person, because I can't talk about it here. I'm totally freaked out and strangely optimistic. We'll see if that stays.

I'm listening to a playlist I created called "belly songs" because they do a certain thing to my belly that can be compared to riding a roller coaster, or walking close to a high ledge. Here is the playlist, because my discretion and my energy level can't give you anything but awesome music.

1. Love Reign O'er Me - The Who
2. Baba O'Reilly - The Who
3. Radio - Alkaline Trio
4. Pride (In The Name Of Love) - U2
5. Can't Find My Way Home - Blind Faith

There are more, but I'll post them another time I'm hurting for content. :)

Am A Bad Blogger

2008-11-06T18:24:00.001-05:00

OK. Enough. I miss blogging, even if nobody misses reading them. Plus, I feel like my brain works better if I have this little place to vent.

So...I was thinking about updating my facebook photos. I realized something. We have tons of pictures of the hubby, the kitty, all our friends, the cars, the guitars, and the house, but very few of me. Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "how conceited are you? honestly? you expect people to want to take pictures of you all the time? What? You think you're so cute and special that your every movement should be photographed?"

No, Mr./Mrs./Ms. Snarkypants. Nor do I merely monopolize the camera so that nobody can take pictures of me to prove I was at events, parties, moments, etc.

I don't know how to explain it. Maybe I'm just the "hey! let's take pictures!" kind of person and nobody else I associate with is. Hence all my botched self-portrait photo attempts.

So maybe I'll just fess up to my friends and family and say, "Hey, ya'll. I'd really like to remember what I looked like when I was 31. Do you mind taking a couple of photos for documentation purposes only? Hold on, let me put on some lipstick."

Weekend Fun

2008-10-12T16:32:00.000-04:00

After finally finishing the forecast (budget) at work on Friday, my kind boss let me knock off an hour early and I came home and took a two-hour nap. Yum. We were going to run around, but Dwight ran around before he picked me up and BAM! Naptime for both of us.

OK. So Saturday my mom and I went to this holistic place for an ionic foot bath. Unless you don't know what this is, it is where you put your feet in this tub of water with a little ionic machine (?) and it draws all these impurities out of your feet. It's gross, and I still feel gross. But, better out than in, right?

So I'm off wine and soda for an undetermined period of time to see if it helps my digestion and hopefully takes a couple of pounds off me. During the forecasting/budgeting process at work I managed to gain 6 pounds. I remember fondly the days when stress made me forget to eat, rather than feel compelled to eat EVERYTHING IN SIGHT. I feel like a cow.

I might actually go on a health kick. That will constitute a whole new blog. Stay tuned, if you care and dare. The deciding factor will be taking my waist measurement and comparing it to a previous waist measurment and if it is an different I shall kick for health.

Speaking of other blogs, I think I might start a blog about being an Administrative Assistant. It's a field with little solidarity. The trick will be to make it compelling and interesting with real-life anecdotes without telling tales about the workplace. Because I hear that is a good idea. Perhaps I will listen to stories from 'out there' so if you or anyone you know are Administrative People the comments are open. Give me ammo so that I don't use my own to get fired.