1. Rearranging my closet to get everything in order by color. And having trouble figuring out the proper order of the colors.
2. Letting Mom teach me to put a hem in my pants without using a stapler.
3. Turning the room that I call my home office into an actual functioning home office.
4. Making four trips to Goodwill as a result of turning the room I call my home office into an actual functioning home office.
5. Trying without success to figure out when the new season of Dr. Who premiers on BBC America.
6. Playing Castleview. Shut up. Those gloom wolves are nasty.
7. Preparing for my fall courses and working on my own research and writing.
8. Searching the local stores in an endless and futile quest to find the perfect pants hangers.
9. Grokking Spock.
10. Rubbing various wounds with topical benedryl. The cats do not like it when I rearrange, well, anything.
All in all, I think it's time for the semester to start. I may be getting out of hand.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Thursday, August 2, 2012
I Do Not Like This [Autumn] Cold
I Do Not Like This Summer Autumn Cold
I do not, do not like this cold.
The blowing, sneezing’s getting old.
My head aches and my throat’s in pain;
I think this cold has squished my brain.
Sneeze in the dark, sneeze in my tea!
Sneeze in the car! Cold, let me be!
I cannot leave this kleenex box.
I cannot find my fluffy socks.
I’m tired of huddling in this house
Just jiggling this computer mouse.
I’m tired of sneezing here and there.
I’m tired of sneezing EVERYWHERE!
I do not like
thissummer autumn cold!
I do not like it,
[expletive deleted]!
I do not, do not like this cold.
The blowing, sneezing’s getting old.
My head aches and my throat’s in pain;
I think this cold has squished my brain.
Sneeze in the dark, sneeze in my tea!
Sneeze in the car! Cold, let me be!
I cannot leave this kleenex box.
I cannot find my fluffy socks.
I’m tired of huddling in this house
Just jiggling this computer mouse.
I’m tired of sneezing here and there.
I’m tired of sneezing EVERYWHERE!
I do not like
this
I do not like it,
[expletive deleted]!
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
People Who Tell You to Smile: A Rant
Today I stopped at the grocery store to pick up a few items. As I gazed confusedly at five different kinds of raspberry tea bags, a man dropped some coffee into his cart, then came over and said, "Hey! Don't look like that! Smile! Ya gotta keep smilin'!"
And I did not beat him to death with a stalk of celery. But it was a near thing.
You see, I wasn't upset about anything; I was thinking, and I was wearing my thinking face, which is a serious damn face. I was trying to remember which kind of that raspberry tea had tasted icky and which kind produced the best iced tea ever. All of the boxes are pink and, well, raspberry-colored, so it takes a bit of concentration to avoid the icky. What it does not take, or even invite, is a damn smile. I mean, seriously, who stands in front of rows of tea, trying to figure out which one is the icky one with a stupid smile on her face?
(Please don't comment that you wander around the grocery store smiling up a storm, particularly in the tea aisle; that was a rhetorical question. Plus, you sound a little creepy.)
And, you know, he's not the first gentleman to hit me with the "Smile!" command this week. As you know from a previous post, I spent a long time in purgatory (aka the Newark Airport) Sunday, and, frankly, smelling like blueberry-flavored vomit with shoes dunked in pee does not provoke grins. Yet, there he was, another person who thought he could turn around my whole damn day by telling me that "Things aren't so bad! Smile! Can't you smile? Oh, go ahead and try, try! Just relax and smile."
Listen, dude, I wasn't in the mood to smile. When I'm pleased or enjoying myself or even meeting someone, sure, I give out the grins. Hell, sometimes I giggle. But you don't have the right to force me to smile if I don't want to, and the more you try to jolly me along, the more I want smack you sideways, so please stop it.
Moreover (because clearly I'm ranting now), what if you pull that crap on someone who's had a worse day than mine? What if that someone has just lost a loved one or been diagnosed with a serious illness or had a giant poplar tree fall on her house? Do you know how damned annoying and infuriating it would be to be told to stop feeling whatever such a person was feeling to smile?
I realize that I'm a lucky person. I have a job I love and friends and family who love me and a house to live in and food, etc, etc...and on most days I will indeed greet all and sundry with cheeriness. But going around telling strangers to smile does not make the world a better place; it makes you irritating at best and occasionally obnoxious, so please, People Who Command Other People to Smile: cut it the hell out.
Thank you.
And I did not beat him to death with a stalk of celery. But it was a near thing.
You see, I wasn't upset about anything; I was thinking, and I was wearing my thinking face, which is a serious damn face. I was trying to remember which kind of that raspberry tea had tasted icky and which kind produced the best iced tea ever. All of the boxes are pink and, well, raspberry-colored, so it takes a bit of concentration to avoid the icky. What it does not take, or even invite, is a damn smile. I mean, seriously, who stands in front of rows of tea, trying to figure out which one is the icky one with a stupid smile on her face?
(Please don't comment that you wander around the grocery store smiling up a storm, particularly in the tea aisle; that was a rhetorical question. Plus, you sound a little creepy.)
And, you know, he's not the first gentleman to hit me with the "Smile!" command this week. As you know from a previous post, I spent a long time in purgatory (aka the Newark Airport) Sunday, and, frankly, smelling like blueberry-flavored vomit with shoes dunked in pee does not provoke grins. Yet, there he was, another person who thought he could turn around my whole damn day by telling me that "Things aren't so bad! Smile! Can't you smile? Oh, go ahead and try, try! Just relax and smile."
Listen, dude, I wasn't in the mood to smile. When I'm pleased or enjoying myself or even meeting someone, sure, I give out the grins. Hell, sometimes I giggle. But you don't have the right to force me to smile if I don't want to, and the more you try to jolly me along, the more I want smack you sideways, so please stop it.
Moreover (because clearly I'm ranting now), what if you pull that crap on someone who's had a worse day than mine? What if that someone has just lost a loved one or been diagnosed with a serious illness or had a giant poplar tree fall on her house? Do you know how damned annoying and infuriating it would be to be told to stop feeling whatever such a person was feeling to smile?
I realize that I'm a lucky person. I have a job I love and friends and family who love me and a house to live in and food, etc, etc...and on most days I will indeed greet all and sundry with cheeriness. But going around telling strangers to smile does not make the world a better place; it makes you irritating at best and occasionally obnoxious, so please, People Who Command Other People to Smile: cut it the hell out.
Thank you.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Brief Conversation with Mom: Watching the Diving
Mom: "Darn. I was hoping that they could beat that team."
Me: "Well, that dive was just a little off."
Mom: "I know it. I was just hoping. Still, they got the bronze."
[five minute pause]
Me: "You know, he's got a really nice package."
Mom: "I was just thinking that."
Me: "Well, that dive was just a little off."
Mom: "I know it. I was just hoping. Still, they got the bronze."
[five minute pause]
Me: "You know, he's got a really nice package."
Mom: "I was just thinking that."
Messages from the Newark Airport
Hello, beloved readers. I've missed you all so very desperately. I spent the last week at a wonderful seminar on Ancient Greek drama in Washington, D.C., and I had to spend all of my leisure time downloading information from my brain into an external hard drive to prevent a complete meltdown of my cognitive functions.
And then I had to fly home. Through Newark. As most of you who follow me on facebook already know, it did not go well. For your amusement, I have compiled the texts and facebook entries I sent out yesterday into a more or less coherent narrative. Enjoy.
2:20 pm: "Two for two on delayed flights. And why is Newark airport so damn loud?"
2:35 pm: “Ugh. A two-year old just vomited half-digested blueberries all over me in the Newark Airport! Had to throw away shirt.”
2:45 pm: "Parents offered (to buy me a new shirt), but everything is too ugly. Flight delayed another half hour. Please send TARDIS!"
3:07 pm: “Sitting on the floor with a 2-hour delay, wearing spare shirt, smelling like vomit. Flashback to undergrad frat party.
3:15 pm: "Saw large blue box in the distance...only Jet Blue kioske. Not TARDIS. Devastated. Flight delayed a third time."
3: 28 pm: "Hating smug Moncton passengers with their on-time departure. Also, I have never heard of Moncton. Am I at the interstellar concourse?!"
3:44 pm: "Flipflops are even uglier in airports. Should be banned for passengers over 3 years old. Stank feet everywhere."
4:03 pm: “Kitty in carrier just vomited and missed my shoes by inches! Too much vomit in this airport! Plague?”
4:46 pm: [Text sent to my friend, Carol] “If I die of old age in this airport, you may have my metal chicken.”
4:50 pm: "See pic? Also not TARDIS. Too short. Airport just messing with me now."
4:58 pm: "Delay number 4. Expecting Godot to show up any time now. And vomit."
5:11 pm: “Slid through a puddle of pee in the restroom, but managed not to fall down. Yeh?”
5:20 pm: "Children whirling around in my new home, gate 20, Newark Airport. Expecting vomit any minute now." [Note: although they bumped into people and fell over, these children did not vomit.]
5:26 pm: "I see... A plane. Is it for me? Will it take me home?! It could be....!"
9:oo pm, 7 hours after anticipated arrival: "Hot shower, red wine, and a warm kitty. Home at last."
And then I had to fly home. Through Newark. As most of you who follow me on facebook already know, it did not go well. For your amusement, I have compiled the texts and facebook entries I sent out yesterday into a more or less coherent narrative. Enjoy.
2:20 pm: "Two for two on delayed flights. And why is Newark airport so damn loud?"
2:35 pm: “Ugh. A two-year old just vomited half-digested blueberries all over me in the Newark Airport! Had to throw away shirt.”
2:45 pm: "Parents offered (to buy me a new shirt), but everything is too ugly. Flight delayed another half hour. Please send TARDIS!"
3:07 pm: “Sitting on the floor with a 2-hour delay, wearing spare shirt, smelling like vomit. Flashback to undergrad frat party.
3:15 pm: "Saw large blue box in the distance...only Jet Blue kioske. Not TARDIS. Devastated. Flight delayed a third time."
3: 28 pm: "Hating smug Moncton passengers with their on-time departure. Also, I have never heard of Moncton. Am I at the interstellar concourse?!"
3:44 pm: "Flipflops are even uglier in airports. Should be banned for passengers over 3 years old. Stank feet everywhere."
4:03 pm: “Kitty in carrier just vomited and missed my shoes by inches! Too much vomit in this airport! Plague?”
4:46 pm: [Text sent to my friend, Carol] “If I die of old age in this airport, you may have my metal chicken.”
4:50 pm: "See pic? Also not TARDIS. Too short. Airport just messing with me now."
4:58 pm: "Delay number 4. Expecting Godot to show up any time now. And vomit."
5:11 pm: “Slid through a puddle of pee in the restroom, but managed not to fall down. Yeh?”
5:20 pm: "Children whirling around in my new home, gate 20, Newark Airport. Expecting vomit any minute now." [Note: although they bumped into people and fell over, these children did not vomit.]
5:26 pm: "I see... A plane. Is it for me? Will it take me home?! It could be....!"
9:oo pm, 7 hours after anticipated arrival: "Hot shower, red wine, and a warm kitty. Home at last."
Friday, July 20, 2012
When "No thank you, please go away now" Doesn't Work
You know how sometimes an organization gets you on a phone list, determined to convince you to donate, no matter how many times you tell them "no"? Well, Mom is on such a list. Fortunately for her, she can now see who's calling her because a cool notice appears on the tv set with the number and person calling. If she doesn't recognize the number, she just doesn't answer (which, by the way, is why she never answers my sister if she's calling from her cell phone...oops!).
Unfortunately for the organization involved, I pick up the phone quite regularly.
And phones can be fun.
Persistent Caller: "Hello, may I speak to Mrs. Grinnell?"
Me: "She's unavailable right now. May I take a message?"
P.C.: "Is the gentleman of the family at home?"
Me: "No, we're totally girl-on-girl in this family. Except for the cat. But the doctor cut off his testicles, so we let him stay. How may I help you?"
P.C. "Um, well, I'm calling on behalf of Totally Bogus Charity; Mrs. Grinnell makes a regular donation."
Me: "Does she? How nice. But should you be telling me that? I mean, doesn't that violate some rule or law or oath or something?"
P.C.: "Ma'am, we'd just like to confirm that your household..."
Me: "Yes, we live in a household. It's quite nice. I'll tell Mrs. Grinnell you called. Buh-bye!"
<two days later>
P.C.: "Hello, may I speak to Carolyn Grinnell?"
Me: "No. She's being punished."
P.C.: "Excuse me?"
Me: "She's being punished. She's not allowed to talk to any more strange men, even on the phone. We're tired of bailing her out of jail. Do you know how embarrassing it is to bail a senior citizen out of jail for moral turpitude? You'll have to call back next month. Buh-bye!"
<the very next day>
P.C.: "Hello! Mrs. Grinnell?"
Me: "No. Oh God. What's she done now?"
P.C.: "She's been a generous contributor to Totally Bogus Charity, and we're calling about her annual donation!"
Me: "Are you the guy with the alpaca? I'm sorry, but we're not taking it, no matter what she told you?"
P.C.: "Could I speak to Mrs. Grinnell, Ma'am?"
Me: "No! No more wildlife! Just go away. I'm still trying to figure out what to do with the giraffe. Good day!"
<yesterday>
P.C.: "Hello! May I speak with Mrs. Grinnell, please?"
Me: "I'm afraid there's been a rash of burglaries in our neighborhood."
P.C.: "I'm sorry to hear that, Ma'am. Did you lose a great deal?"
Me: "Oh no, they didn't hit us. But she's found that damn cape, and she's off into the night with the power ring and thermos of hot tea, but she left the damn cell phone behind again, and who's going to wash the blood off of her boots this time, I ask you? Me, that's who. It's always me, and I thought having an old woman come live with me would be relaxing. Quiz shows and the weather channel, right? Wrong! I blame it on those radio serials, Flash Gordon and the Shadow; that whole generation is completely warped. You have a nice day, now. I have an entire load of tights to wash before morning."
Okay, so I wrote that one out before he called and left it by the phone just in case. Is that cheating?
Unfortunately for the organization involved, I pick up the phone quite regularly.
And phones can be fun.
Persistent Caller: "Hello, may I speak to Mrs. Grinnell?"
Me: "She's unavailable right now. May I take a message?"
P.C.: "Is the gentleman of the family at home?"
Me: "No, we're totally girl-on-girl in this family. Except for the cat. But the doctor cut off his testicles, so we let him stay. How may I help you?"
P.C. "Um, well, I'm calling on behalf of Totally Bogus Charity; Mrs. Grinnell makes a regular donation."
Me: "Does she? How nice. But should you be telling me that? I mean, doesn't that violate some rule or law or oath or something?"
P.C.: "Ma'am, we'd just like to confirm that your household..."
Me: "Yes, we live in a household. It's quite nice. I'll tell Mrs. Grinnell you called. Buh-bye!"
<two days later>
P.C.: "Hello, may I speak to Carolyn Grinnell?"
Me: "No. She's being punished."
P.C.: "Excuse me?"
Me: "She's being punished. She's not allowed to talk to any more strange men, even on the phone. We're tired of bailing her out of jail. Do you know how embarrassing it is to bail a senior citizen out of jail for moral turpitude? You'll have to call back next month. Buh-bye!"
<the very next day>
P.C.: "Hello! Mrs. Grinnell?"
Me: "No. Oh God. What's she done now?"
P.C.: "She's been a generous contributor to Totally Bogus Charity, and we're calling about her annual donation!"
Me: "Are you the guy with the alpaca? I'm sorry, but we're not taking it, no matter what she told you?"
P.C.: "Could I speak to Mrs. Grinnell, Ma'am?"
Me: "No! No more wildlife! Just go away. I'm still trying to figure out what to do with the giraffe. Good day!"
<yesterday>
P.C.: "Hello! May I speak with Mrs. Grinnell, please?"
Me: "I'm afraid there's been a rash of burglaries in our neighborhood."
P.C.: "I'm sorry to hear that, Ma'am. Did you lose a great deal?"
Me: "Oh no, they didn't hit us. But she's found that damn cape, and she's off into the night with the power ring and thermos of hot tea, but she left the damn cell phone behind again, and who's going to wash the blood off of her boots this time, I ask you? Me, that's who. It's always me, and I thought having an old woman come live with me would be relaxing. Quiz shows and the weather channel, right? Wrong! I blame it on those radio serials, Flash Gordon and the Shadow; that whole generation is completely warped. You have a nice day, now. I have an entire load of tights to wash before morning."
Okay, so I wrote that one out before he called and left it by the phone just in case. Is that cheating?
Real Conversation with Mom: Alphas
Mom: What are you watching?
Me: Alphas.
Mom: Is this a trekkie thing?
Me: No. They track down dangerous criminals and troubled individuals. Spock does not appear.
Mom: Okay, that doesn't sound too bad. [pause] What are those lights?
Me: That character can see and manipulate wireless signals. He's tracing a cell phone call.
Mom: I do not see the computer. Don't they do that on computers?
Me: He's an alpha. He doesn't need a computer.
Mom: Batman uses a computer to do that.
Me: Batman does not appear in this show.
Mom: I do not think this guy could be smarter than Batman. Wait, does that woman have a bionic eye?
Me: No, she is an alpha and can extend her senses.
Mom: This is a trekkie thing! These people are not normal!
Me: No, they are alphas. They have extra abilities. And I can't hear what's going on when you shout.
Mom: You said this wasn't a trekkie thing! Do you know that Angel is on? And the witches?! Why am I watching this trekkie thing?
Me: The new season starts on Monday, and I want to catch up. And this is not Star Trek.
Mom: No more lies! You lie to your mother! This is trekkie stuff! No, shut up right now! You know I meant any of that trekkie stuff...is this that sci fi channel? It is, isn't it?
Me: Now, Mom...
Mom: There is no sci fi channel before noon in this house! My Angel is on, and you are watching this trekkie..look, look at what that one did! This is sci fi, and you lied to me.
Me: But..
Mom: None of these men are good lookin' and this show is named for a breakfast cereal. Change the channel or I will slap the sh!t out of you.
Me: But..
Mom: Shut up, give me the clicker, and go to your room. Breakfast cereal trekkie stuff. Something is wrong with you.
Me: Alphas.
Mom: Is this a trekkie thing?
Me: No. They track down dangerous criminals and troubled individuals. Spock does not appear.
Mom: Okay, that doesn't sound too bad. [pause] What are those lights?
Me: That character can see and manipulate wireless signals. He's tracing a cell phone call.
Mom: I do not see the computer. Don't they do that on computers?
Me: He's an alpha. He doesn't need a computer.
Mom: Batman uses a computer to do that.
Me: Batman does not appear in this show.
Mom: I do not think this guy could be smarter than Batman. Wait, does that woman have a bionic eye?
Me: No, she is an alpha and can extend her senses.
Mom: This is a trekkie thing! These people are not normal!
Me: No, they are alphas. They have extra abilities. And I can't hear what's going on when you shout.
Mom: You said this wasn't a trekkie thing! Do you know that Angel is on? And the witches?! Why am I watching this trekkie thing?
Me: The new season starts on Monday, and I want to catch up. And this is not Star Trek.
Mom: No more lies! You lie to your mother! This is trekkie stuff! No, shut up right now! You know I meant any of that trekkie stuff...is this that sci fi channel? It is, isn't it?
Me: Now, Mom...
Mom: There is no sci fi channel before noon in this house! My Angel is on, and you are watching this trekkie..look, look at what that one did! This is sci fi, and you lied to me.
Me: But..
Mom: None of these men are good lookin' and this show is named for a breakfast cereal. Change the channel or I will slap the sh!t out of you.
Me: But..
Mom: Shut up, give me the clicker, and go to your room. Breakfast cereal trekkie stuff. Something is wrong with you.
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