December 21, 2006
December 11, 2006
102 and Rising
I do apologize, everyone. I really have been bloggeruseless of late. Not that it's an excuse, but I seem to have hit a period of transition in life that has kept me rather busy. I love every moment of my new status as an apartment-dweller, but seeing as how I'm too poor to afford the Internet, it cuts down on my ability to blog at will. Also in recent months, I have somehow stumbled into a new position at work (I say "somehow" like I didn't get on the floor and beg for it) that involves an almost-liveable wage and actual, grown-up responsibilities that don't involve being verbally abused on the phone for hours on end. Because I have actual work to do, I am now forced to do things like homework for class outside of my normal 8-5 day, decreasing the amount of free time I have available for witty reparte.
Having said this, I miss you all. In brief review... I was thrilled about the November elections, and can't say the tiny optimist left in me didn't hope it was coming (if you call screaming, "fuck the Republicans!" in your head "optimistic"). The Baker Hamilton Commission is right, but I could have made those recommendations 2 years ago. I still hate Britney Spears, and I found her departure and quick return to skankdom less than surprising. Barak Obama is fabulous. I hope they make a poignant, touching movie about James Kim, who walked 16 miles in the snow to save his family. I've developed a weird fascination with the WE channel, and I'm pretty sure a pod person has taken over my body - I asked for a mixer (like, for baking) for Channukah.
By the way, I'm on the way to the doctor's office so that I can get medication for this very bad head cold I've developed. Anything I've said here today is inadmissible in court as the rantings of a feverish lunatic.
Having said this, I miss you all. In brief review... I was thrilled about the November elections, and can't say the tiny optimist left in me didn't hope it was coming (if you call screaming, "fuck the Republicans!" in your head "optimistic"). The Baker Hamilton Commission is right, but I could have made those recommendations 2 years ago. I still hate Britney Spears, and I found her departure and quick return to skankdom less than surprising. Barak Obama is fabulous. I hope they make a poignant, touching movie about James Kim, who walked 16 miles in the snow to save his family. I've developed a weird fascination with the WE channel, and I'm pretty sure a pod person has taken over my body - I asked for a mixer (like, for baking) for Channukah.
By the way, I'm on the way to the doctor's office so that I can get medication for this very bad head cold I've developed. Anything I've said here today is inadmissible in court as the rantings of a feverish lunatic.
November 07, 2006
October 30, 2006
Rot in Hell, Bill O'Reilly
Did anyone see Letterman on Friday? If not, here's a quick synopsis. This is why David Letterman is awesome and Bill O'Reilly should drop off the planet. He was on Oprah on Friday as well, which I listened to while cleaning my apartment and doing laundry. I'm pretty sure I yelled, "rot in hell and die!" at the tv at least 6 or 7 times, like a kid with tourette's. The fact that Oprah would even bring a conservative, misogynist asshole like him on her show disappoints me. I've decided he's up in my Top 10 Republicans Who Should Vanish list.
October 11, 2006
Explosive Combination
I'm looking up punch recipes. WHY do people think it's okay to mix vodka and beer? In the same bowl? This is NOT ACCEPTABLE, people!
QAD 10/11/06
What can you ever really know of other people's souls - of
their temptations, their opportunities, their struggles?
One soul in the whole creation you do know: and it is the
only one whose fate is placed in your hands.
--C.S. Lewis
their temptations, their opportunities, their struggles?
One soul in the whole creation you do know: and it is the
only one whose fate is placed in your hands.
--C.S. Lewis
October 06, 2006
Wag The... What?
I saw a terrible movie (for free) the other night. Employee of the Month. Now, I'm a Dane Cook fan most of the time. I enjoy his comedy, he makes me laugh, and it's fun in general to watch people get hurt. The prominent players in this particular piece of film making are Dane, Andy Dick, Jessica Simpson, Dax Shepard and the guy who played Pedro in Napoleon Dynamite. Clearly a cast with a range. The jokes and sight gags were funny, though the script was awful (and I'm not being a movie snob... remember, I loved Dude Where's My Car).
My beef here is that the writers put a Glengarry Glen Ross reference, pretty blatantly, in the movie. Talk about a waste of an excellent reference to both a great play (yes people, it was a play first) and a great movie with an awesome cast. How can you actually put that in the movie and expect the viewers (the 2 in the audience who actually GET it, that is) not to compare Dax, Dane and Andy to Al Pacino, Kevin Spacey, and Jack Lemmon? Let us take a moment and picture the way the conversation between the head writer and... say... Jessica Simpson went. "Yeah, I'm going to reference David Mamet... you know, the guy who wrote Wag the Dog? No? the Untouchables? No? State and Main? No? Joan of Bark:The Dog Who Saved France? YES! YES! THAT'S the guy!"
My beef here is that the writers put a Glengarry Glen Ross reference, pretty blatantly, in the movie. Talk about a waste of an excellent reference to both a great play (yes people, it was a play first) and a great movie with an awesome cast. How can you actually put that in the movie and expect the viewers (the 2 in the audience who actually GET it, that is) not to compare Dax, Dane and Andy to Al Pacino, Kevin Spacey, and Jack Lemmon? Let us take a moment and picture the way the conversation between the head writer and... say... Jessica Simpson went. "Yeah, I'm going to reference David Mamet... you know, the guy who wrote Wag the Dog? No? the Untouchables? No? State and Main? No? Joan of Bark:The Dog Who Saved France? YES! YES! THAT'S the guy!"
September 26, 2006
September 22, 2006
September 13, 2006
QAD 9/13/06
Whatever we expect with confidence becomes our own
self-fulfilling prophecy.
--Brian Tracy
We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not
by mechanical aid, but by an infinite expectation of
the dawn.
--Henry David Thoreau
I'm sad today.
self-fulfilling prophecy.
--Brian Tracy
We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not
by mechanical aid, but by an infinite expectation of
the dawn.
--Henry David Thoreau
I'm sad today.
September 08, 2006
Give Me a Break
The world we live in really concerns me when one of the top stories on the news this morning was, "Lindsay Lohan loses her purse at Heathrow Airport!" Maybe if she could bother to carry her own shit, this wouldn't be a late-breaking 'news' story. Oh, to be back in college discussing the state of the media today...
September 06, 2006
QAD 9/6/06
If I were asked ... to what the singular prosperity and
growing strength of Americans ought mainly to be
attributed, I should reply: To the superiority of
their women.
--Alexis de Tocqueville
An army of principles can penetrate where an army of
soldiers cannot.
--Thomas Paine
War is not the continuation of politics with different
means, it is the greatest mass-crime perpetrated on the
community of man.
--Alfred Adler
Education is not the filling of a pail,
but the lighting of a fire.
--Wiliam Butler Yeats
Peace is constructed, not fought for.
--Brent Davis
growing strength of Americans ought mainly to be
attributed, I should reply: To the superiority of
their women.
--Alexis de Tocqueville
An army of principles can penetrate where an army of
soldiers cannot.
--Thomas Paine
War is not the continuation of politics with different
means, it is the greatest mass-crime perpetrated on the
community of man.
--Alfred Adler
Education is not the filling of a pail,
but the lighting of a fire.
--Wiliam Butler Yeats
Peace is constructed, not fought for.
--Brent Davis
August 29, 2006
Hiding from Evil
Casey: i saw him at the mall sun.
Casey: didnt say hi
Casey: on purpose
Me: ooooh
Me: you're a badass
Casey: i dodged
Me: did you hide?
Me: like duck behind a garbage can?
Casey: ducked behind a rack at forever 21
Me: that's awesome
Casey: didnt say hi
Casey: on purpose
Me: ooooh
Me: you're a badass
Casey: i dodged
Me: did you hide?
Me: like duck behind a garbage can?
Casey: ducked behind a rack at forever 21
Me: that's awesome
August 26, 2006
Grave Digger
I've been hearing quite a bit about Forbes article that some pigheaded moron (Michael Noer) wrote recently about the evils of marrying career women, so I finally decided today [while cementing my position in the land of indentured servitude by being forced to work 6 hours on a Saturday] to take a look at it. First of all, I think the definition Mr. Noer has placed on the term "career girl (not woman)" is offensive. Never mind the "girl" clause, but his definition is, "A career girl has a university-level (or higher) education, works more than 35 hours a week outside the home and makes more than $30,000 a year." I'm sorry, but in her mid-20s or higher, it's appalling that a man thinks that 30k and 35 hours a week is anywhere NEAR slaving away at a high-powered position. In today's global economy, 30k for a woman with a 4-year college education is barely enough to pay the rent and put food on the table for herself, never mind a family. It's practically an un-liveable salary in our nation's largest cities. We're also lucky if any job finds a 35 hour work week acceptable... this coming from a woman who has worked a total of just about 50 hours this week alone.
In the broader sense, I think this article brings to light some serious problems with regards to the way our patriarchial society pigeonholes women into 'acceptable' and 'unacceptable' modes of behavior. The "career girls" that Michael Noer is criticizing are doing nothing more than what society has pressured them to do for decades - be JUST LIKE MEN. "You throw like a girl," and "why are girls so sensitive? Why can't you be more like us?" are phrases we hear every day of our lives. So what have we done? In our effort to "please our men", we've gone ahead and done exactly that. They say immitation is the highest form of flattery. If so, why are men suddenly so vocal about their complaints? It's ok for men to be disgusting pigs around the house, it's socially acceptable (or at least understood) that busy "career men" have affairs at the office, it's alright if they don't want children, and they get a carte-blanche for behaviors that basically amount to inexcuseable in women. Is it really the women and their behaviors that Noer has a problem with here? I tend to wonder if it's not the fact that, when a mirror image of 'acceptable' male behavior is held up, they find that they don't much like what they see. If your expectations for women are held to such a high standard of excellence, maybe the critical lens needs to be turned inward. After all, Mr. Noer, you should be flattered - we're simply following in your footsteps. We want to be just like you. What part of that do you have such a problem with?
In the broader sense, I think this article brings to light some serious problems with regards to the way our patriarchial society pigeonholes women into 'acceptable' and 'unacceptable' modes of behavior. The "career girls" that Michael Noer is criticizing are doing nothing more than what society has pressured them to do for decades - be JUST LIKE MEN. "You throw like a girl," and "why are girls so sensitive? Why can't you be more like us?" are phrases we hear every day of our lives. So what have we done? In our effort to "please our men", we've gone ahead and done exactly that. They say immitation is the highest form of flattery. If so, why are men suddenly so vocal about their complaints? It's ok for men to be disgusting pigs around the house, it's socially acceptable (or at least understood) that busy "career men" have affairs at the office, it's alright if they don't want children, and they get a carte-blanche for behaviors that basically amount to inexcuseable in women. Is it really the women and their behaviors that Noer has a problem with here? I tend to wonder if it's not the fact that, when a mirror image of 'acceptable' male behavior is held up, they find that they don't much like what they see. If your expectations for women are held to such a high standard of excellence, maybe the critical lens needs to be turned inward. After all, Mr. Noer, you should be flattered - we're simply following in your footsteps. We want to be just like you. What part of that do you have such a problem with?
August 18, 2006
QAD 8/18/06
To love. To be loved. To never forget your own
insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable
violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you.
To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty
to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or
complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never
power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand.
To never look away. And never, never, to forget.
--Arundhati Roy
In this war – as in others – I am less interested in
honoring the dead than in preventing the dead.
--Butler Shaffer
insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable
violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you.
To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty
to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or
complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never
power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand.
To never look away. And never, never, to forget.
--Arundhati Roy
In this war – as in others – I am less interested in
honoring the dead than in preventing the dead.
--Butler Shaffer
August 16, 2006
FYI
Just for the record...
Do not, I repeat, DO NOT, ever call me and ask for your student ID and PIN number... and then tell me you don't have a pen. This is unacceptable. I am fully aware that I am experiencing hormone-induced rage blackouts, but that is just ridiculous, infantile bullshit. If you are calling an institution with the specific purpose of obtaining a series of 15 non-sequential numbers that serve the purpose of identification, unless you have some kind of verbal photographic memory, PICK UP A FUCKING PEN!
Do not, I repeat, DO NOT, ever call me and ask for your student ID and PIN number... and then tell me you don't have a pen. This is unacceptable. I am fully aware that I am experiencing hormone-induced rage blackouts, but that is just ridiculous, infantile bullshit. If you are calling an institution with the specific purpose of obtaining a series of 15 non-sequential numbers that serve the purpose of identification, unless you have some kind of verbal photographic memory, PICK UP A FUCKING PEN!
July 27, 2006
Take Note
I saw this on MSN and thought it was amusing.
1. Remember in old movies when women used to swoon and "take to the bed" for days at a time? That never happens. We're stronger than that. That being said, if we ever decide to "take to the bed" for days at a time, there's not a thing you can do about it.
2. Sometimes we think we really understand men. Then we regain consciousness.
3. Superskinny women really irritate us. We hate when they say, "Sometimes I just forget to eat." Now, I've forgotten my anniversary and where I parked my car. But I've never forgotten to eat.
4. We do like to have sex, just not at midnight when we have to get up at the crack of dawn to feed two kids, three dogs, and a pair of fat goldfish.
5. We'll gladly agree to stop complaining about our "time of the month" if men will kindly take over the little chores of childbearing, morning sickness, and postpartum emotional swings. Deal?
6. Women really do want to be on time. It's just that everything starts so darned early.
7. We know high heels are sexy, but we'll take our comfy black Uggs any day of the week.
8. Homespun wisdom from someone who knows: Just because we're southern belles doesn't mean we have bats in our belfries.
9. We really do like to cook. It's just that we cooked so much for our boyfriends before we got married that we're sick of being in the kitchen. Sorry you missed it.
10. Men are free to think they're the boss, as long as they know we're the chairman of the board.
You know you're an addict when...
On Sunday, I had my first shopping experience at my new local grocery store. I made the grave mistake of doing this ON a Sunday, as everyone knows this is optimal Kamikaze-Soccer-Mom shopping time. Needless to say, I was rather overwhelmed and under-caffeinated, so I did a less than stellar job. I've been back to the grocery store every single day since, picking up things I'd forgotten or given up on. I've also been feeling a bit off this week, and until last night unable to figure out why. I've had horrendous headaches and been feeling exhausted, as well as near tears. I've downed nearly a whole bottle of Advil, and even a few Excedrin to dull the pain. Last night, I was getting ready to set up my coffee maker for the morning. I pulled my new bag of Green Mountain French Vanilla out of the fridge... and that's when I saw it. The answer to all of my problems for the last 4 days. It was a sticker. A simple, small, burnt-orange sticker... with one very important word on it. That word, my friends, was... (brace yourself...) "DECAFFEINATED".
I'VE BEEN DRINKING DECAF FOR AN ENTIRE WEEK! No wonder my life has been so fucking miserable! I quickly rectified the situation this morning, stopping at good ol' Dunkin Donuts for a big, hot, delicious, CAFFEINATED beverage... and grabbed a bag of grounds while I was at it. Which I inspected for the evil sticker. Twice.
I'VE BEEN DRINKING DECAF FOR AN ENTIRE WEEK! No wonder my life has been so fucking miserable! I quickly rectified the situation this morning, stopping at good ol' Dunkin Donuts for a big, hot, delicious, CAFFEINATED beverage... and grabbed a bag of grounds while I was at it. Which I inspected for the evil sticker. Twice.
July 19, 2006
Mommy, wow!
After carrying about 30 boxes, sweating off 4lbs, bruising every inch of my body, pulling all of the muscles in my back and arms and stubbing all of my toes, I can finally say that I am almost completely moved into my new apartment. Today I fell asleep on my new couch while waiting for the cable guy. I take this to be a good sign. The best part? I did it all on my own. Who needs a man when you've got... biceps?
Should it be of any concern that I had martini glasses moved in almost a week before the furniture?
Should it be of any concern that I had martini glasses moved in almost a week before the furniture?
June 27, 2006
Palm Beach PD Saves the Planet!
This is JUST what the world needs: Limbaugh Loose With Viagra
Honestly, I'm not sure this is anyone I can think of that would be more appalling to be running around Florida with a permanent stiffy. Except for maybe Pat Robertson.
Honestly, I'm not sure this is anyone I can think of that would be more appalling to be running around Florida with a permanent stiffy. Except for maybe Pat Robertson.
June 25, 2006
This Is Why I Love the Dixie Chicks
Forgive, sounds good
Forget, I’m not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I’m still waiting
I’m through with doubt
There’s nothing left for me to figure out
I’ve paid a price
And I’ll keep paying
I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell and
I don’t have time to go round and round and round
It’s too late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could
‘Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should
I know you said
Can’t you just get over it
It turned my whole world around
And I kind of like it
I made my bed and I sleep like a baby
With no regrets and I don’t mind sayin’
It’s a sad sad story when a mother will teach her
Daughter that she ought to hate a perfect stranger
And how in the world can the words that I said
Send somebody so over the edge
That they’d write me a letter
Sayin’ that I better shut up and sing
Or my life will be over
I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell and
I don’t have time to go round and round and round
It’s too late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could
‘Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should
I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell and
I don’t have time to go round and round and round
It’s to late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could
‘Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should
Forgive, sounds good
Forget, I’m not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I’m still waiting
~Not Ready to Make Nice
Forget, I’m not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I’m still waiting
I’m through with doubt
There’s nothing left for me to figure out
I’ve paid a price
And I’ll keep paying
I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell and
I don’t have time to go round and round and round
It’s too late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could
‘Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should
I know you said
Can’t you just get over it
It turned my whole world around
And I kind of like it
I made my bed and I sleep like a baby
With no regrets and I don’t mind sayin’
It’s a sad sad story when a mother will teach her
Daughter that she ought to hate a perfect stranger
And how in the world can the words that I said
Send somebody so over the edge
That they’d write me a letter
Sayin’ that I better shut up and sing
Or my life will be over
I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell and
I don’t have time to go round and round and round
It’s too late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could
‘Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should
I’m not ready to make nice
I’m not ready to back down
I’m still mad as hell and
I don’t have time to go round and round and round
It’s to late to make it right
I probably wouldn’t if I could
‘Cause I’m mad as hell
Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should
Forgive, sounds good
Forget, I’m not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I’m still waiting
~Not Ready to Make Nice
June 23, 2006
Cheery Friday
I am in a certifiably foul mood today about life, the world, politics, the lack of universal health care, the environment, flag burning amendments, the weather, the fit of my pants, my shitty plans for the weekend, my new cheap sunglesses, and the bruise I have on my left thigh. Just to bring everyone around me down to my level, check out this fabulous blog a friend sent me the other day.
QAD 6/23/06
Life may have no meaning. Or even worse, it may have a
meaning of which I disapprove.
-- Ashleigh Brilliant
Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make
violent revolution inevitable.
--John F. Kennedy
In joining battle, seek the quick victory. If battle is
protracted, your weapons will be blunted and your troops
demoralized. If you lay siege to a walled city, you
exhaust your strength. If your armies are kept in the
field for a long time, your national reserves will not
suffice. Where you have blunted your weapons, demoral-
ized your troops, exhausted your strength and depleted
all available resources, the neighboring rulers will
take advantage of your adversity to strike. And even
with the wisest of counsel, you will not be able to turn
the ensuing consequences to the good. There never has
been a state that has benefited from an extended war.
--Sun Tzu
meaning of which I disapprove.
-- Ashleigh Brilliant
Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make
violent revolution inevitable.
--John F. Kennedy
In joining battle, seek the quick victory. If battle is
protracted, your weapons will be blunted and your troops
demoralized. If you lay siege to a walled city, you
exhaust your strength. If your armies are kept in the
field for a long time, your national reserves will not
suffice. Where you have blunted your weapons, demoral-
ized your troops, exhausted your strength and depleted
all available resources, the neighboring rulers will
take advantage of your adversity to strike. And even
with the wisest of counsel, you will not be able to turn
the ensuing consequences to the good. There never has
been a state that has benefited from an extended war.
--Sun Tzu
June 15, 2006
Sympathy
Casey's text message from the other day:
"Maybe they should change your job title to 'Everyone's Bitch'."
"Maybe they should change your job title to 'Everyone's Bitch'."
June 13, 2006
B-A-N-A-N-A-S
Casey: there was this group last night that came in to the Muddy Cup and rapped
it was 5 young white guys - they called themselves "the crunk masters of the universe"
they all thought they were Eminem - but their lyrics were basically spelling out "crunk masters of the universe"- over and over again
Casey: in the style of "go bananas, b-a-n-a-n-a-s
Casey: the crunk masters of the universe!
Casey: c-r-u-n-k-m-a-s-t-e-r-s-o-f-t-h-e-u-n-i-v-e-r-s-e
Casey: over and over again - five of them in unison
Me: well, y'know
Me: that takes talent!
Casey: my friend goes, you know, i bet they started as a rap group with three guys, and then one day they're all sitting around and they say "you know what we need? two more rappers!"
[If you find this hard to believe, they have a website - check out Crunk Masters of the Univerise, and their exciting feature song, "Where the Titties At" - sure to be a big hit. Feel free to leave them a comment and let them know how offensive they are.]
it was 5 young white guys - they called themselves "the crunk masters of the universe"
they all thought they were Eminem - but their lyrics were basically spelling out "crunk masters of the universe"- over and over again
Casey: in the style of "go bananas, b-a-n-a-n-a-s
Casey: the crunk masters of the universe!
Casey: c-r-u-n-k-m-a-s-t-e-r-s-o-f-t-h-e-u-n-i-v-e-r-s-e
Casey: over and over again - five of them in unison
Me: well, y'know
Me: that takes talent!
Casey: my friend goes, you know, i bet they started as a rap group with three guys, and then one day they're all sitting around and they say "you know what we need? two more rappers!"
[If you find this hard to believe, they have a website - check out Crunk Masters of the Univerise, and their exciting feature song, "Where the Titties At" - sure to be a big hit. Feel free to leave them a comment and let them know how offensive they are.]
June 06, 2006
Becky's Batty
There is a very good chance that I'll be bringing a baseball bat to work tomorrow. Maybe the visual image and physical reminder of impending violence will make my bat-brained students pay attention to the very explicit, detailed, and uncompromising instructions I give them on a regular basis. For example, if I say, "Return this form with the signatures on it no later than 6pm today. If you do not return this form by that time, it will not be accepted," do not leave it here without your name on it, after 7pm, missing your advisor's signature and expect that form to be processed.. What part of my VERY SIMPLE instructions did you not understand?
I'm telling you, tomorrow I'm bringing a weapon.
I'm telling you, tomorrow I'm bringing a weapon.
June 01, 2006
The Old Maid
Getting old(er) sucks. I was reminded of this at the gym today. I haven't been to the gym in a while (I've been running outside), so maybe that was part of my jarring return to reality.
While I was working out, there was this teenage girl, maybe about 14 years old, on the treadmill. She was a smaller girl, running along for about 20 minutes. She had skinny little arms and legs, and was wearing cheap sneakers that looked like Keds you'd buy at WalMart. No water bottle, no towel, nothing fancy. All I could think was, "how can she run in shoes like that?" and, "God, I can't even remember when my arms were that skinny." She got off the treadmill and walked away, not sweating too hard, not breathing particularly rough. When I run these days, I sweat like a pig, I breathe hard, my face turns purple, and my ass jiggles. I can feel it jiggle, and I don't even have a big ass! I have NO ass, yet it jiggles with every step! I can't run in fucking Keds - my ankles and knees can't handle it. I have to buy fancy-ass expensive Adidas so I don't strain something. I have to make sure I stretch and drink water, otherwise I can't walk for three days, and I have to ice my knee every time I run. I was elated today when I was able to go down the stairs after my 2 miles without any pain in my knee. I'm only 10 years older than that teenager, but I'm OLD. And that sucks. At the rate I'm going, I'll need a walker by age 30.
Maybe one of the toughest things to accept as we age is the fact that our bodies just aren't as reliable as they once were. We grow up thinking we're invicible... that we can get thrown from a horse and bounce off the ground, or play three games of tackle football without the slightest repercussions. Our bodies are rocks or Hondas - they never break down or change much. But as we get older, they become more like driftwood or Fords - at a certain point they get sanded down to a new shape and start to break down repeatedly with bizarrely expensive necessary repairs. I used to get dragged by frisky yearlings and thrown against fences. With rope burns on my hands and hoofprints on my helmet, I'd get back up and right back on, without a second thought. One day, however, we wake up frighteningly aware of our own mortality and fragility. It's sad and it's sobering to be reminded that it's all downhill from here, so we might as well enjoy it, right? For my part, I have decided to try to run outside where there are fewer teenagers and attempt to avoid their blase youth and vigor for as long as possible...
While I was working out, there was this teenage girl, maybe about 14 years old, on the treadmill. She was a smaller girl, running along for about 20 minutes. She had skinny little arms and legs, and was wearing cheap sneakers that looked like Keds you'd buy at WalMart. No water bottle, no towel, nothing fancy. All I could think was, "how can she run in shoes like that?" and, "God, I can't even remember when my arms were that skinny." She got off the treadmill and walked away, not sweating too hard, not breathing particularly rough. When I run these days, I sweat like a pig, I breathe hard, my face turns purple, and my ass jiggles. I can feel it jiggle, and I don't even have a big ass! I have NO ass, yet it jiggles with every step! I can't run in fucking Keds - my ankles and knees can't handle it. I have to buy fancy-ass expensive Adidas so I don't strain something. I have to make sure I stretch and drink water, otherwise I can't walk for three days, and I have to ice my knee every time I run. I was elated today when I was able to go down the stairs after my 2 miles without any pain in my knee. I'm only 10 years older than that teenager, but I'm OLD. And that sucks. At the rate I'm going, I'll need a walker by age 30.
Maybe one of the toughest things to accept as we age is the fact that our bodies just aren't as reliable as they once were. We grow up thinking we're invicible... that we can get thrown from a horse and bounce off the ground, or play three games of tackle football without the slightest repercussions. Our bodies are rocks or Hondas - they never break down or change much. But as we get older, they become more like driftwood or Fords - at a certain point they get sanded down to a new shape and start to break down repeatedly with bizarrely expensive necessary repairs. I used to get dragged by frisky yearlings and thrown against fences. With rope burns on my hands and hoofprints on my helmet, I'd get back up and right back on, without a second thought. One day, however, we wake up frighteningly aware of our own mortality and fragility. It's sad and it's sobering to be reminded that it's all downhill from here, so we might as well enjoy it, right? For my part, I have decided to try to run outside where there are fewer teenagers and attempt to avoid their blase youth and vigor for as long as possible...
May 23, 2006
New Rules
It has come to my attention that some people on the infamous MySpace community may misunderstand the purpose and/or intent behind the "bulletin post". I feel that it is time to clear this confusion up for good. Here are my personal guidelines:
1. No one is getting good fortune, free money, fabulous sex, free blowjobs, or 6 wishes from reposting anything I post, and I don't give a shit if you DO repost, so don't tell me about it.
2. Everything I post is purely for my own amusement's sake, and don't you forget it - I'm a bitch that way.
3. I'll probably offend you. I don't care, so deal with it.
4. News Flash: That's not my real birthday or hair color.
5. No, commenting on my rapier wit and superior intelligence is NOT going to get you a date, and my ego has become so over-inflated that I don't even want you to try.
6. When you use the wrong versions of words such as; too/two, your/you're, their/there/they're, its/it's and any other made up phrases such as 'u r hot', 'wat up wit dat', ect., expect to be ridiculed mercilessly. Just because it's [notice the proper usage] the Internet is NOT an excuse to be an illiterate imbecile.
7. Those inside jokes are not directed towards you if you're not laughing, so no witty attempt at a reply is necessary.
8. Do not believe for one moment that I am divulging any deep, dark, meaningful secrets in my little survey bulletins. I, unlike hapless 13 year olds, know the difference between an online community full of perverts and my shrink's office.
9. I have 117 "friends". Please do not assume my bulletin is intended only for you and reply thusly. If it were, I would have sent it in a private message with your name in big, bold letters at the top.
10. Friend trackers don't exist, and if they did... do you REALLY want to know what every single creepy toothless unibomber who checks your profile looks like and where he lives in relation to you (which he knows, because you've broadcasted it to the world)?
These are my rules. I hope they help.
1. No one is getting good fortune, free money, fabulous sex, free blowjobs, or 6 wishes from reposting anything I post, and I don't give a shit if you DO repost, so don't tell me about it.
2. Everything I post is purely for my own amusement's sake, and don't you forget it - I'm a bitch that way.
3. I'll probably offend you. I don't care, so deal with it.
4. News Flash: That's not my real birthday or hair color.
5. No, commenting on my rapier wit and superior intelligence is NOT going to get you a date, and my ego has become so over-inflated that I don't even want you to try.
6. When you use the wrong versions of words such as; too/two, your/you're, their/there/they're, its/it's and any other made up phrases such as 'u r hot', 'wat up wit dat', ect., expect to be ridiculed mercilessly. Just because it's [notice the proper usage] the Internet is NOT an excuse to be an illiterate imbecile.
7. Those inside jokes are not directed towards you if you're not laughing, so no witty attempt at a reply is necessary.
8. Do not believe for one moment that I am divulging any deep, dark, meaningful secrets in my little survey bulletins. I, unlike hapless 13 year olds, know the difference between an online community full of perverts and my shrink's office.
9. I have 117 "friends". Please do not assume my bulletin is intended only for you and reply thusly. If it were, I would have sent it in a private message with your name in big, bold letters at the top.
10. Friend trackers don't exist, and if they did... do you REALLY want to know what every single creepy toothless unibomber who checks your profile looks like and where he lives in relation to you (which he knows, because you've broadcasted it to the world)?
These are my rules. I hope they help.
May 18, 2006
QAD 5/18/06
If we are facing in the right direction, all we have to
do is keep on walking.
--Buddhist Saying
Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you
just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will
come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up.
--Anne Lamott, Author
It is difficult to say what is impossible, for the dream
of yesterday is the hope of today and the reality of
tomorrow.
--Robert H. Goddard
do is keep on walking.
--Buddhist Saying
Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you
just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will
come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up.
--Anne Lamott, Author
It is difficult to say what is impossible, for the dream
of yesterday is the hope of today and the reality of
tomorrow.
--Robert H. Goddard
May 06, 2006
For Richer or Poorer
Relationships with other people are complicated... and sometimes I think friendships become the stickiest of all of our connections. As we get older and those friendships deepen, as we grow and change, the lines blur and shift, become messy and interconnected. They stop being neat little entities that can be put into a box and left on a shelf, only to take out for convenience's sake. Family is almost easier in the straightforward blood connection. You can hate them or love them, it doesn't matter - you're stuck, so you might as well fight it out or not. There's a complete lack of autonomy in that relationship, for better or worse.
But friendships are different. People that we've known for 2 or 3 or 5 years are easy (relatively speaking) - we've changed, but not that much. You take each other at face value for the present, because that's all you know. The friends I've made in college or at work didn't know me at a skinny 5th grader with braces and glasses, her nose stuffed in a book with zero self-esteem. They may know of that middle schooler, but they never met her. They know the loud, jovial, wise-cracking curly-haired girl with the big boobs who stands straight and always has a witty comment at the ready. Hopefully, someday they will become deep, complicated friendships as well. But the ones that are the messiest are those that we've had for 10, 15, 20 years. You get into a fight, or get angry, and you realize that you're fighting about things that you've been fighting about for a decade... and you'll still be fighting about in the next decade. You can't hide what you were, your old insecurities or demons in the closet - they've got your number down. They've seen it all, they've heard it all, they lived it with you. Those are the friendships that, sometimes, we take for granted. Sometimes you forget that, while theroetically, you could end the friendship and walk away, in reality, it's not that simple. Thhose moments of rage are just that. By virture of the tentacles that we've twined into each other's lives and hearts, they have become your sisters and brothers. They are the ones who will be there when your life falls apart and your heart lies in broken pieces like shattered glass on the floor. They're the ones that will unfailingly show up anytime, anywhere, for anything. They're the ones you would do the same for without a moment's hesitation or thought to the contrary. And when we're reminded of how incredibly valuable those lifeline relationships are, we need to remember to value them more than anything else in the entire world.
"In prosperity our friends know us; in adversity we know our friends."
But friendships are different. People that we've known for 2 or 3 or 5 years are easy (relatively speaking) - we've changed, but not that much. You take each other at face value for the present, because that's all you know. The friends I've made in college or at work didn't know me at a skinny 5th grader with braces and glasses, her nose stuffed in a book with zero self-esteem. They may know of that middle schooler, but they never met her. They know the loud, jovial, wise-cracking curly-haired girl with the big boobs who stands straight and always has a witty comment at the ready. Hopefully, someday they will become deep, complicated friendships as well. But the ones that are the messiest are those that we've had for 10, 15, 20 years. You get into a fight, or get angry, and you realize that you're fighting about things that you've been fighting about for a decade... and you'll still be fighting about in the next decade. You can't hide what you were, your old insecurities or demons in the closet - they've got your number down. They've seen it all, they've heard it all, they lived it with you. Those are the friendships that, sometimes, we take for granted. Sometimes you forget that, while theroetically, you could end the friendship and walk away, in reality, it's not that simple. Thhose moments of rage are just that. By virture of the tentacles that we've twined into each other's lives and hearts, they have become your sisters and brothers. They are the ones who will be there when your life falls apart and your heart lies in broken pieces like shattered glass on the floor. They're the ones that will unfailingly show up anytime, anywhere, for anything. They're the ones you would do the same for without a moment's hesitation or thought to the contrary. And when we're reminded of how incredibly valuable those lifeline relationships are, we need to remember to value them more than anything else in the entire world.
"In prosperity our friends know us; in adversity we know our friends."
May 01, 2006
Like Steve McQueen...
We got rockstars in the Whitehouse
All our popstars look like porn
All my heroes hit the highway
They don't hang out here no more
You can call me anytime
You can page me all night long
But you won't catch this freebird
I'll already be long gone
Like Steve McQueen
All we need's a fast machine
And we're gonna make it all right...
~Sheryl Crow
April 20, 2006
Manolo What?
I've recently come to the realization that I need to just give up on eternal love and happiness... what I really need to do is marry some rich desperate guy and change the damn locks! Seriously. Then I can be left alone with my cat and spend as much money as I see fit. When I'm bored at work (which is often this time of year), I shop online. I go home at night, look at the distaster area that is my bedroom and think, "No human on earth needs this much clothing." Then, the next morning, I stand in front of my closet and think, "Oh my God, I have NOTHING TO WEAR!!". In the last 24 hours, I have purchased 3 pairs of shoes. Online. And by shoes I mean sandals. None of them were vital or necessary... but very cute. And on SALE!
See? I need help. Thank goodness for the fact that I have to go to class in about 10 minutes... who knows how much money I could theoretically spend in the 6 hours I'll be trapped in a stuffy classroom instead...
See? I need help. Thank goodness for the fact that I have to go to class in about 10 minutes... who knows how much money I could theoretically spend in the 6 hours I'll be trapped in a stuffy classroom instead...
April 19, 2006
Words to Live By
“I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
~Maya Angelou
April 13, 2006
QAD 4/13/06
I'm tired.
Most Americans do not yet realize that a war is being waged
- not against Iraq but against each of us. It is not the
Republican Party that is charge in this administration but
a small cadre who seized executive branch power and
converted it to their own uses. Most Republicans are
experiencing a deer-in-the-headlights moment right now.
Their Party has been hijacked, their president has been
hijacked, and they do not know what to do. I remain a
registered Republican working for an effective coalition.
--Melinda Pillsbury-Foster
Most Americans do not yet realize that a war is being waged
- not against Iraq but against each of us. It is not the
Republican Party that is charge in this administration but
a small cadre who seized executive branch power and
converted it to their own uses. Most Republicans are
experiencing a deer-in-the-headlights moment right now.
Their Party has been hijacked, their president has been
hijacked, and they do not know what to do. I remain a
registered Republican working for an effective coalition.
--Melinda Pillsbury-Foster
April 10, 2006
Appropriate
Appropriately enough...
Happiness cannot come from without. It must come from
within. It is not what we see and touch or that which
others do for us which makes us happy; it is that which
we think and feel and do, first for the other fellow and
then for ourselves.
--Helen Keller
Happiness cannot come from without. It must come from
within. It is not what we see and touch or that which
others do for us which makes us happy; it is that which
we think and feel and do, first for the other fellow and
then for ourselves.
--Helen Keller
April 09, 2006
It's Like Fishing
This is how Dictionary.com defines the terms 'happy' and 'happiness':
hap·py
adj. hap·pi·er, hap·pi·est
It's been the topic of some discussion in my life this weekend. I find this definition to be rather... vague and uninspiring. Ultimately, happiness is something that every human is striving for. We're all constantly looking for that one thing or person or place that will make us 'happy'. Quite frequently, once we find it, we quickly start looking for something else that will make us 'happier'.
My question is what is it exactly, and when you pin the concept down, does 'happiness' really even exist as a tangible something to be obtained? I am more of the mind that happiness is a process, a journey, and an exploration. Would it exist without the search? I tend to feel that it's more of a concept that we as humans have created to help get us through the interminable days and weeks and years of our rather monotonous existence. It's an idea, like God, religion, and the meaning of life. Created by us at the beginning of time to give us a reason to get up in the morning and continue putting one foot in front of the other. When people ask me if I'm 'happy', I say yes. My life is full of wonderful people and things and places that offer me beauty and support every minute of every day. Yet there are those who would argue that I'm not happy - that I'm missing something that would make me 'truly happy'.
My argument is... is anyone ever truly happy? Aren't we all always waiting on the next best thing? In the words of Matchbox 20 - is happiness a mat that sits on our doorway? Or is it more like Our Lady Peace - happiness is not a fish you can catch...?
hap·py
adj. hap·pi·er, hap·pi·est
- Characterized by good luck; fortunate.
- Enjoying, showing, or marked by pleasure, satisfaction, or joy.
- Being especially well-adapted; felicitous: a happy turn of phrase.
- Cheerful; willing: happy to help.
- Characterized by a spontaneous or obsessive inclination to use something. Often used in combination: trigger-happy.
- Enthusiastic about or involved with to a disproportionate degree. Often used in combination: money-happy; clothes-happy.
It's been the topic of some discussion in my life this weekend. I find this definition to be rather... vague and uninspiring. Ultimately, happiness is something that every human is striving for. We're all constantly looking for that one thing or person or place that will make us 'happy'. Quite frequently, once we find it, we quickly start looking for something else that will make us 'happier'.
My question is what is it exactly, and when you pin the concept down, does 'happiness' really even exist as a tangible something to be obtained? I am more of the mind that happiness is a process, a journey, and an exploration. Would it exist without the search? I tend to feel that it's more of a concept that we as humans have created to help get us through the interminable days and weeks and years of our rather monotonous existence. It's an idea, like God, religion, and the meaning of life. Created by us at the beginning of time to give us a reason to get up in the morning and continue putting one foot in front of the other. When people ask me if I'm 'happy', I say yes. My life is full of wonderful people and things and places that offer me beauty and support every minute of every day. Yet there are those who would argue that I'm not happy - that I'm missing something that would make me 'truly happy'.
My argument is... is anyone ever truly happy? Aren't we all always waiting on the next best thing? In the words of Matchbox 20 - is happiness a mat that sits on our doorway? Or is it more like Our Lady Peace - happiness is not a fish you can catch...?
April 07, 2006
Have You Seen My Stapler?
Today is inspired by a text-conversation I've been having with an equally bored, mind-numbed friend. Today is officially "Office Space Quote Day"!
Bob Porter: We'll be getting rid of these people here... First, Mr. Samir Naga... Naga... Naga... Not gonna work here anymore, anyway.
Peter Gibbons: Doesn't it bother you that you have to get up in the morning and you have to put on a bunch of pieces of flair?
Joanna: Yeah, but I'm not about to go in and start taking money from the register.
Peter Gibbons: Well, maybe you should. You know, the Nazis had pieces of flair that they made the Jews wear.
Milton Waddams: I was told that I could listen to the radio at a reasonable volume from nine to eleven, I told bill that if Sandra is going to listen to her headphones while she's filing then I should be able to listen to the radio while I'm collating so I don't see why I should have to turn down the radio because I enjoy listening at a reasonable volume from nine to eleven.
Milton Waddams: Mr. Lumbergh told me to talk to payroll and payroll told me to talk to Mr. Lumbergh and I still have not received my paycheck and they moved my desk to storage room B and there was garbage on it.
Bob Porter: Looks like you've been missing a lot of work lately.
Peter Gibbons: Well, I wouldn't exactly say I've been *missing* it, Bob.
Please add your favorites at your leisure...
Bob Porter: We'll be getting rid of these people here... First, Mr. Samir Naga... Naga... Naga... Not gonna work here anymore, anyway.
Peter Gibbons: Doesn't it bother you that you have to get up in the morning and you have to put on a bunch of pieces of flair?
Joanna: Yeah, but I'm not about to go in and start taking money from the register.
Peter Gibbons: Well, maybe you should. You know, the Nazis had pieces of flair that they made the Jews wear.
Milton Waddams: I was told that I could listen to the radio at a reasonable volume from nine to eleven, I told bill that if Sandra is going to listen to her headphones while she's filing then I should be able to listen to the radio while I'm collating so I don't see why I should have to turn down the radio because I enjoy listening at a reasonable volume from nine to eleven.
Milton Waddams: Mr. Lumbergh told me to talk to payroll and payroll told me to talk to Mr. Lumbergh and I still have not received my paycheck and they moved my desk to storage room B and there was garbage on it.
Bob Porter: Looks like you've been missing a lot of work lately.
Peter Gibbons: Well, I wouldn't exactly say I've been *missing* it, Bob.
Please add your favorites at your leisure...
April 06, 2006
Top Ten at 2:10
I've decided that I am a big fan of top ten lists. Today, I will be doing this Letterman-Style, counting down to the big #1. Our topic will be "You Have No Chance in Hell of Dating Me Because..."
10. You spend hours waxing and detailing your Ford truck
9. You use the phrase "I seen" in regular conversation and/or have a nickname similar to "Frank The Tank"
8. You are the guy handing me coffee at Dunkin Donuts
7. You are not old enough to buy me a drink
6. You are old enough to own a AARP card
5. You are missing teeth and/or have gold replacements
4. You own a Hummer or Hummer-sized vehicle
3. You previously have dated one of my good friends
2. You previous have dated ME
1. You are a Republican and/or voted for George Bush... EVER
10. You spend hours waxing and detailing your Ford truck
9. You use the phrase "I seen" in regular conversation and/or have a nickname similar to "Frank The Tank"
8. You are the guy handing me coffee at Dunkin Donuts
7. You are not old enough to buy me a drink
6. You are old enough to own a AARP card
5. You are missing teeth and/or have gold replacements
4. You own a Hummer or Hummer-sized vehicle
3. You previously have dated one of my good friends
2. You previous have dated ME
1. You are a Republican and/or voted for George Bush... EVER
Sounds Like A Bad Joke...
Q: How many grown men does it take to plug in a printer?
A: In my office, apparently 3. 1 to plug and 2 to scratch their balls and grunt.
A: In my office, apparently 3. 1 to plug and 2 to scratch their balls and grunt.
March 29, 2006
People Shouldn't Breed Because...
If my kid (or your kid) ever pulls this shit on my watch, I'm totally leaving his ass in there....
Stupid Kid Gets Stuck In Toy Machine
Stupid Kid Gets Stuck In Toy Machine
Over My Head (Cable Car)
I'm really feeling this song this week. Not even sure I know where they're going, but I like it....
I never knew
I never knew that everything was falling through
That everyone I knew was waiting on a queue
To turn and run when all I needed was the truth
But that's how it's got to be
It's coming down to nothing more than apathy
I'd rather run the other way than stay and see
The smoke and who's still standing when it clears
Everyone knows I'm in
Over my head
With eight seconds left in overtime
She's on your mind
Let's rearrange
I wish you were a stranger I could disengage
Say that we agree and then never change
Soften a bit until we all just get along
But that's disregard
Find another friend and you discard
As you lose the argument in a cable car
Hanging above as the canyon comes between
Everyone knows I'm in
Over my head
With eight seconds left in overtime
She's on your mind
And suddenly I become a part of your past
I'm becoming the part that don't last
I'm losing you and its effortless
Without a sound we lose sight of the ground
In the throw around
Never thought that you wanted to bring it down
I won't let it go down till we torch it ourselves
Everyone knows I'm in
Over my head
With eight seconds left in overtime
She's on your mind
~The Frey
I never knew
I never knew that everything was falling through
That everyone I knew was waiting on a queue
To turn and run when all I needed was the truth
But that's how it's got to be
It's coming down to nothing more than apathy
I'd rather run the other way than stay and see
The smoke and who's still standing when it clears
Everyone knows I'm in
Over my head
With eight seconds left in overtime
She's on your mind
Let's rearrange
I wish you were a stranger I could disengage
Say that we agree and then never change
Soften a bit until we all just get along
But that's disregard
Find another friend and you discard
As you lose the argument in a cable car
Hanging above as the canyon comes between
Everyone knows I'm in
Over my head
With eight seconds left in overtime
She's on your mind
And suddenly I become a part of your past
I'm becoming the part that don't last
I'm losing you and its effortless
Without a sound we lose sight of the ground
In the throw around
Never thought that you wanted to bring it down
I won't let it go down till we torch it ourselves
Everyone knows I'm in
Over my head
With eight seconds left in overtime
She's on your mind
~The Frey
March 28, 2006
Bleed... Whatever Color GMU Is...
I am officially rooting for the underdog (what else is new??) in the Final Four tournament. Go George Mason University!!!
[Yota, this is mostly because of you. Mostly.]
[Yota, this is mostly because of you. Mostly.]
March 22, 2006
And One More Thing...
Comment: Creepy Dunkin' Donuts man hit on me again today. Apparently he thinks a cute nickname for me is "Smiley". I don't think it's cute. Hopefully my response of, "I will be, once I have my fucking coffee," was appropriately off-putting (but I doubt it). And yes, I know I should not have gone to that particular DD's, but I really needed some damn caffeine, and the next one was way too far away. Casey is now writing a song about me entitled "Queen of the Totally Inappropriate Suitors". FABULOUS. That is all.
Deep Thoughts
Question: Why does my cat like to chew on cacti? (Not just the cute fuzzy ones, but the scary, mean, pointy ones.)
March 21, 2006
Good Night and Good Luck
Americans are too broadly under-informed to digest nuggets
of information that seem to contradict what they know of
the world... Instead, news channels prefer to feed
Americans a constant stream of simplified information,
all of which fits what they already know. That way they
don't have to devote more air time or newsprint space
to explanations or further investigations.
-- Tom Fenton, former CBS News Foreign Correspondent
of information that seem to contradict what they know of
the world... Instead, news channels prefer to feed
Americans a constant stream of simplified information,
all of which fits what they already know. That way they
don't have to devote more air time or newsprint space
to explanations or further investigations.
-- Tom Fenton, former CBS News Foreign Correspondent
March 16, 2006
QAD 3/16/06
You can always hear the people who are willing to sacrifice
somebody else's life. They're plenty loud and they talk all
the time. You can find them in churches and schools and
newspapers and legislatures and congress. That's their
business. They sound wonderful. Death before dishonor.
This ground sanctified by blood. These men who died so
gloriously. They shall not have died in vain. Our noble
dead.
-- Dalton Trumbo, Johnny Got His Gun
A patriot must always be ready to defend his country
against his government.
--Edward Abbey, author
Fascism - A system of government that exercises a
dictatorship of the extreme right, typically through the
merging of state and business leadership, together with
belligerent nationalism.
--The American Heritage Dictionary, 1983
Do something useful today and visit this website: Sign the Petition
somebody else's life. They're plenty loud and they talk all
the time. You can find them in churches and schools and
newspapers and legislatures and congress. That's their
business. They sound wonderful. Death before dishonor.
This ground sanctified by blood. These men who died so
gloriously. They shall not have died in vain. Our noble
dead.
-- Dalton Trumbo, Johnny Got His Gun
A patriot must always be ready to defend his country
against his government.
--Edward Abbey, author
Fascism - A system of government that exercises a
dictatorship of the extreme right, typically through the
merging of state and business leadership, together with
belligerent nationalism.
--The American Heritage Dictionary, 1983
Do something useful today and visit this website: Sign the Petition
March 12, 2006
Sight Hound
I'm about to go for a run before getting back to my horrible, soul-sucking midterm paper, but I wanted to rave about how wonderful the book I started reading yesterday is. (One might wonder where I found the time to read a book for pure enjoyment's sake, but if you're ever stuck in the car for 6 hours with my family, you'll understand.) I'm totally in love with all things by Pam Houston right now, and her latest novel Sight Hound is fabulous. If you're a person who has every had a pet, lost a pet, been in love, had your heart broken, struggled to find your way...walks on 2 legs or breathes oxygen regularly, you'll be touched by it too.
March 10, 2006
Sunshine!
Some of my coworkers have really funny walks. Kind of like this.
Cute, huh? I need a life. Has my blog become stupid? You'd tell me, right?
Cute, huh? I need a life. Has my blog become stupid? You'd tell me, right?
March 09, 2006
Notes From All Parts of Becky's Brain
I just need to say that, as a woman, seeing men get hit/punched/kicked in the balls is and will always be funny to me. It's mean, it sucks, and I will laugh every time I see it happen on tv or live-action until the day I die.
[Speaking of men who deserve to get cracked in the nuts, it's my ex's birthday today. Who wants to go throw eggs at his car with me as a "Happy 27th!" gift?]
Another random note:
I had a dream last night that involved all of the following characters/places/things:
- Creepy ex-coworker
- Non-creepy ex-coworker
- Cool current coworker
- A herd of pregnant miniature horses
- Monkeys flinging poo (and various other things)
- A townhouse development (where I was frantically searching for #138)
- Dane Cook
- An SUV
- My cowboy boots
- Sno Caps (yes, the things you eat at the movies)
Anyone care to analyze? Yes, they were all in one singular dream, and yes there was a context, believe it or not. Am I crazy?
[Speaking of men who deserve to get cracked in the nuts, it's my ex's birthday today. Who wants to go throw eggs at his car with me as a "Happy 27th!" gift?]
Another random note:
I had a dream last night that involved all of the following characters/places/things:
- Creepy ex-coworker
- Non-creepy ex-coworker
- Cool current coworker
- A herd of pregnant miniature horses
- Monkeys flinging poo (and various other things)
- A townhouse development (where I was frantically searching for #138)
- Dane Cook
- An SUV
- My cowboy boots
- Sno Caps (yes, the things you eat at the movies)
Anyone care to analyze? Yes, they were all in one singular dream, and yes there was a context, believe it or not. Am I crazy?
March 08, 2006
To Clarify...
For the sake of clarification about yesterday's post... I wasn't being sad or depressed or anything of that sort. It was just one of those AHA! moments, when you zip outside of your head and see yourself clearly from the ouside looking in. Like one of those neat camera effects in The Matrix when the scene pauses mid-martial arts move and the camera pans out and around to show Neo from the bad guy's point of view.
March 07, 2006
Cliche!
Today after work I went to the supermarket in my work clothes, black peacoat, trendy scarf and leather gloves. I bought 7 SmartOnes frozen dinners, 2 yogurts, and a bag of oranges. As I was rifling through my tasteful purse (that was super-cheap) to pay for my wares, I came to the realization that I have become a walking, breathing stereotype of the quintessential single, slightly pathetic, 20-something female. I could have walked straight off some tired scriptwriter's set directly into my own little masquerade of a life.
Interesting, huh?
Interesting, huh?
March 06, 2006
9 to 5... or rather, 10:30 to 7ish..
I have discovered bliss. If I could work from home in my pjs and glasses, my cat asleep next to me on the computer in my sunroom every day, I would be the happiest little employee on the planet.
Of course, to do this today I had to call in sick.
Cut me some slack - it's the first day of spring break, there are no students desperately clamoring for my assistance, the office closes early, and no one really cares except me. I have a 15 page midterm paper due next week and absolutely no time to sit down and do some serious research, so I elected to take today and make some progress. The fun thing is, with everything in the world networked and password-ed, I can basically do everything else I'd be doing at work from home as well. I can check the email and the fax machine, my calendar, and even commuicated with my fellow coworkers via Instant Message (except, of course, my boss - the person who tells me what to do. Oh, and the people at work I can't stand, who don't have my Instant Messanger ID). The only thing I'm leaving out here is answering the phones - the one part of my job I loathe with a passion. So really, it's 80% of the work and 0% of the aggrevation.
Maybe Carrie Bradshaw was onto something, tapping away at her keyboard in her trendy little uptown apartment all on her own. I always thought working at home would be lonely and isolated... but I think I may have been mistaken...
Of course, to do this today I had to call in sick.
Cut me some slack - it's the first day of spring break, there are no students desperately clamoring for my assistance, the office closes early, and no one really cares except me. I have a 15 page midterm paper due next week and absolutely no time to sit down and do some serious research, so I elected to take today and make some progress. The fun thing is, with everything in the world networked and password-ed, I can basically do everything else I'd be doing at work from home as well. I can check the email and the fax machine, my calendar, and even commuicated with my fellow coworkers via Instant Message (except, of course, my boss - the person who tells me what to do. Oh, and the people at work I can't stand, who don't have my Instant Messanger ID). The only thing I'm leaving out here is answering the phones - the one part of my job I loathe with a passion. So really, it's 80% of the work and 0% of the aggrevation.
Maybe Carrie Bradshaw was onto something, tapping away at her keyboard in her trendy little uptown apartment all on her own. I always thought working at home would be lonely and isolated... but I think I may have been mistaken...
March 01, 2006
Go Ahead and Kick That Puppy!
Quick addendum to my post the other day about Dunkin Donuts guy -
Why does Barry the Bartender* feel inclined to continue calling me? I gave him my number over a year ago in a fit of lonlines and moment of pure weakness. I have only returned one of his calls since December of '04 (because, appropriately enough, he happens to attend my institution a few nights a week and was confused about his bill) and have only picked up when he called once - because I was driving and didn't see the number on the screen. You would think good ol' Barry would have gotten the message by now. The message being, "LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE". I feel bad because he's a nice enough guy, but part of what turns me off so badly is his sheer patheticness. It just goes to show that men really, really want and love to be treated like crap. The meaner you are, the more they adore you.
*his name isn't really Barry, but I feel bad disclosing the poor guy's identity. Wouldn't want you guys to point and laugh the next time you see him or anything.
Why does Barry the Bartender* feel inclined to continue calling me? I gave him my number over a year ago in a fit of lonlines and moment of pure weakness. I have only returned one of his calls since December of '04 (because, appropriately enough, he happens to attend my institution a few nights a week and was confused about his bill) and have only picked up when he called once - because I was driving and didn't see the number on the screen. You would think good ol' Barry would have gotten the message by now. The message being, "LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE". I feel bad because he's a nice enough guy, but part of what turns me off so badly is his sheer patheticness. It just goes to show that men really, really want and love to be treated like crap. The meaner you are, the more they adore you.
*his name isn't really Barry, but I feel bad disclosing the poor guy's identity. Wouldn't want you guys to point and laugh the next time you see him or anything.
February 28, 2006
Land of Losers
Yesterday morning the Dunking Donuts drive-thru guy hit on me. Fabulous. Time to switch my special-morning-treat routine... the coffee at Muddy Cup is better anyway.
I now get to add to my trophy case the title of Queen of the Totally Inappropriate Suitors in addition to my reigning title, Queen of the Nerds (ask my high school friends about that one).
I now get to add to my trophy case the title of Queen of the Totally Inappropriate Suitors in addition to my reigning title, Queen of the Nerds (ask my high school friends about that one).
February 27, 2006
QOTD 2/27/06
Power always thinks it has a great soul and vast views
beyond the comprehension of the weak; and that it is
doing God's service when it is violating all his laws.
--John Adams, 2nd US president
A woman is handicapped by her sex, and handicaps society,
either by slavishly copying the pattern of man's advance
in the professions, or by refusing to compete with man at
all.
--Betty Friedan, Feminist, author
beyond the comprehension of the weak; and that it is
doing God's service when it is violating all his laws.
--John Adams, 2nd US president
A woman is handicapped by her sex, and handicaps society,
either by slavishly copying the pattern of man's advance
in the professions, or by refusing to compete with man at
all.
--Betty Friedan, Feminist, author
February 24, 2006
February 21, 2006
Better Than Chocolate
Quite often I believe that the perfect cup of French Vanilla coffee is better than sex (from what I remember). And chocolate. No contest.
February 19, 2006
Bubble Girl
Here's my little tidbit for the day -
It's been mentioned recently that I have personal space issues. I guess I never realized that I may have a little bit more of an issue with others invading my "bubble" than most of my fellow Americans, but it's been made clear that I do. Let me make my personal space issues clear and irrefutable right here, right now:
[I am pointedly referencing this to the creepy grad students at work who lean over my desk, one or two specific coworkers from the past and present, disgusting drunk men at bars, the creepy ice patrol guy who totally ended my wonderful re-enactment of my childhood ice skating adventures yesterday, and every shmuck who's ever tried to grab my ass/boob/arm/leg while waitressing... to name a few.]
You are not allowed in my bubble without an explicit invitation. That's it. That's the rule, period. There are no exceptions to this rule. You've either been invited in or you haven't. It's like a vampire entering a mortal's house. If it is unclear as to whether or not you've been invited - maybe it's murky, maybe you're reading signals that you don't recognize, whatever - then you have not been invited in. End of story.
I also have the right to rescind said invitation whenever and however I feel like it. I'm sorry if this seems cruel and unusual to you, but it's just the way it is. You'll have to find someone else to grope if you find my rule so grievously offensive.
So there it is. I hope this helps all of you navigate the waters of your relationship with me (whether real or imaginary) with safety and enjoyment.
It's been mentioned recently that I have personal space issues. I guess I never realized that I may have a little bit more of an issue with others invading my "bubble" than most of my fellow Americans, but it's been made clear that I do. Let me make my personal space issues clear and irrefutable right here, right now:
[I am pointedly referencing this to the creepy grad students at work who lean over my desk, one or two specific coworkers from the past and present, disgusting drunk men at bars, the creepy ice patrol guy who totally ended my wonderful re-enactment of my childhood ice skating adventures yesterday, and every shmuck who's ever tried to grab my ass/boob/arm/leg while waitressing... to name a few.]
You are not allowed in my bubble without an explicit invitation. That's it. That's the rule, period. There are no exceptions to this rule. You've either been invited in or you haven't. It's like a vampire entering a mortal's house. If it is unclear as to whether or not you've been invited - maybe it's murky, maybe you're reading signals that you don't recognize, whatever - then you have not been invited in. End of story.
I also have the right to rescind said invitation whenever and however I feel like it. I'm sorry if this seems cruel and unusual to you, but it's just the way it is. You'll have to find someone else to grope if you find my rule so grievously offensive.
So there it is. I hope this helps all of you navigate the waters of your relationship with me (whether real or imaginary) with safety and enjoyment.
February 17, 2006
Top 10 List of Things That Make Me Want To Quit My Job
In no particular order:
1. Don't ask me if I'm the bursar's office. If I were, in my greeting I would say, "this is the bursar's office" not "this is the student solution center".
2. Don't call to argue with me about your late fee and how you 'plan' to pay your bill. Your bill was due 2 months ago - you DESERVE a late fee.
3. Loud coworkers who say stupid, ignorant things on a regular basis.
4. Snotty, bratty 20 year old undergraduates
5. Snotty, bratty 45 year old graduate students
6. Parents who intterupt and ask me if I'm a work-study student while I am patiently explaining to them how federal student aid regulations work.
7. People who ask "how are you" on the phone. They don't REALLY care, and never wait for a response. Don't bother, just ask your damn question so we can end this conversation.
8. Parents/students who calll and give me a first and last name, expecting me to instantaneously remember her/him out of the 3,500 people who attend the college.
9. Anyone who calls and says, "hi, who is this?" That REALLY pisses me off. Who the fuck are YOU, and what do you want? You're calling me, buddy.
10. Self-involved, bloated college professors who expect me to fill out ALL of their paperwork for them because they're too busy to do 'menial' tasks like inputting the correct grades for their students.
1. Don't ask me if I'm the bursar's office. If I were, in my greeting I would say, "this is the bursar's office" not "this is the student solution center".
2. Don't call to argue with me about your late fee and how you 'plan' to pay your bill. Your bill was due 2 months ago - you DESERVE a late fee.
3. Loud coworkers who say stupid, ignorant things on a regular basis.
4. Snotty, bratty 20 year old undergraduates
5. Snotty, bratty 45 year old graduate students
6. Parents who intterupt and ask me if I'm a work-study student while I am patiently explaining to them how federal student aid regulations work.
7. People who ask "how are you" on the phone. They don't REALLY care, and never wait for a response. Don't bother, just ask your damn question so we can end this conversation.
8. Parents/students who calll and give me a first and last name, expecting me to instantaneously remember her/him out of the 3,500 people who attend the college.
9. Anyone who calls and says, "hi, who is this?" That REALLY pisses me off. Who the fuck are YOU, and what do you want? You're calling me, buddy.
10. Self-involved, bloated college professors who expect me to fill out ALL of their paperwork for them because they're too busy to do 'menial' tasks like inputting the correct grades for their students.
February 16, 2006
Taking Over One Plush Toy At A Time
To steal a phrase from this guy (whom I found hysterical in college, but now that he's sold out totally sucks ass, so don't ask why I just linked him), here's something I was "ruminating" on today...
I get emails from Victoria's Secret on a relatively regular basis. This is because I frequently purchase underwear from them online. If there's one thing that's easy to shop for via the internet, it's panties. Let's face it - the more you have, the less frequent your trips to the washing machine become. They're a pretty universal garment... I mean, a large is a large is a large. And you always need more. I'm not really worried about how they're going to look ON - if the rhinestone phrase "Rockstar" looks cute in the picture, it'll probably look about the same plastered across my ass. And (usually) I'm wearing pants anyway.
[Full disclosure: I do not own ANY garment with the word "Rockstar" emblazoned across it - rhinestone or otherwise].
Anyway, Victoria's Secret likes to send me email fliers about their latest promotions. This week's promotion states, "Free PINK mini dog with any PINK purchase." And it shows a picture of the 'mini dog'. The 'mini dog' is a pink and white polka-dot stuffed dog... wearing a t-shirt. It's not even soft and fuzzy - it's made out of some burlap-like material. So, basically, what they're telling me is that if I buy a $35 bra, I get a stuffed dog that's about the size of a nerf football, for free. That's great. It's fan-fucking-tastic. What the fuck am I going to do with a stuffed dog? For real. What part of my life is this useless piece of crap going to enhance, and how does this particular promotion inspire me to part with my hard-earned money? I'm buying your stupid underwear anyway. You know what would be a better promotion? I buy the bra, you DON'T send me the dog, and instead donate the $1 it cost to produce the damn thing to a battered women's shelter. I know this is America - land of the free, home of the telemarketer (wait, I'm sorry - we outsourced them all and fired the Americans) - but don't we have ENOUGH USELESS CRAP? Does the marketing company for Victoria's Secret really think that this is the way to increase sales?
[Full disclosure #2: I actually was given a stuffed dog with purchase once before. I gave it to my cat as a chew toy.]
I get emails from Victoria's Secret on a relatively regular basis. This is because I frequently purchase underwear from them online. If there's one thing that's easy to shop for via the internet, it's panties. Let's face it - the more you have, the less frequent your trips to the washing machine become. They're a pretty universal garment... I mean, a large is a large is a large. And you always need more. I'm not really worried about how they're going to look ON - if the rhinestone phrase "Rockstar" looks cute in the picture, it'll probably look about the same plastered across my ass. And (usually) I'm wearing pants anyway.
[Full disclosure: I do not own ANY garment with the word "Rockstar" emblazoned across it - rhinestone or otherwise].
Anyway, Victoria's Secret likes to send me email fliers about their latest promotions. This week's promotion states, "Free PINK mini dog with any PINK purchase." And it shows a picture of the 'mini dog'. The 'mini dog' is a pink and white polka-dot stuffed dog... wearing a t-shirt. It's not even soft and fuzzy - it's made out of some burlap-like material. So, basically, what they're telling me is that if I buy a $35 bra, I get a stuffed dog that's about the size of a nerf football, for free. That's great. It's fan-fucking-tastic. What the fuck am I going to do with a stuffed dog? For real. What part of my life is this useless piece of crap going to enhance, and how does this particular promotion inspire me to part with my hard-earned money? I'm buying your stupid underwear anyway. You know what would be a better promotion? I buy the bra, you DON'T send me the dog, and instead donate the $1 it cost to produce the damn thing to a battered women's shelter. I know this is America - land of the free, home of the telemarketer (wait, I'm sorry - we outsourced them all and fired the Americans) - but don't we have ENOUGH USELESS CRAP? Does the marketing company for Victoria's Secret really think that this is the way to increase sales?
[Full disclosure #2: I actually was given a stuffed dog with purchase once before. I gave it to my cat as a chew toy.]
January 29, 2006
January 26, 2006
January 23, 2006
January 22, 2006
Cyberspace
One thing I've learned during my relatively short time as a blogger [an unread blogger, which on occaision, I'm rather happy about]...
There are an awful lot of angry, illiterate creeps out there in cyberspace! They get really good at lurking in random comments screens, posting poorly-composed obscenities and unillicited opinions on blogs from everywhere. It's fascinating to me that everyone has an opinion about everything. It's even more fascinating that the random blog commentators are so convinced that they are right. A third notable factor is that the nastiest ones (and most grammatically incorrect) are usually American.
This revelation brings to mind a song lyric, and I will now take a moment to quote the legendary Salt N' Peppa...
"Opinions are like assholes and everybody's got one."
There are an awful lot of angry, illiterate creeps out there in cyberspace! They get really good at lurking in random comments screens, posting poorly-composed obscenities and unillicited opinions on blogs from everywhere. It's fascinating to me that everyone has an opinion about everything. It's even more fascinating that the random blog commentators are so convinced that they are right. A third notable factor is that the nastiest ones (and most grammatically incorrect) are usually American.
This revelation brings to mind a song lyric, and I will now take a moment to quote the legendary Salt N' Peppa...
"Opinions are like assholes and everybody's got one."
January 21, 2006
Mile 1
When I was in grade school, twice a year it was understood that the Gods of Gym required us to Run The Mile. I hated The Mile. Everyone I knew hated The Mile. [Remember, Becky=Nerd. Nerd=Nerdy Friends. The rule here is that nerds suck at sports.] The only people who didn't were the guys and girls on the track/x-country teams, who would show off by crossing the finish line in 6 and a half minutes, then ask if they could run it again. I hated them, too. To me, it seemed like the longest distance in the world. Throughout my adolescence, I rode horses, swam competitively, and took dance classes. None of these athletic endeavors required running, and I found The Mile not only painful, but horrifically embarassing as well. I don't believe I ever finished in anything less than 13 minutes in the 6 or so years I was forced to run it. The end of the run would find me with my head between my legs, ears hurting, lungs hurting, with a stitch in my side that made me want to cry. I didn't WANT to be the last person without a thyroid problem across the finish, it just happened that way.
There was one strange interaction, however, quickly forgotten at the time, that has somehow stayed with me ever since. My memory is a little fuzzy as to whether this happened in middle school or high school, or even what point in the torture it occurred, but I remember the conversation as clear as day. One of the gym coaches - the cross-country coach - approached me and asked me if I'd ever considered being on the team. She told me I had great form for a runner, and that I should really consider it. Knowing full well the extent of my land-speed record (and assuming that she didn't), I tried not to laugh and told her I'd think about it, shook my head, and jogged (I use the term loosely) away. Afterward, I told my other 13-minute friends the story, we had a good laugh, and life went on.
Cut to 10 (or maybe more) years later. I think about this conversation every single time I run through my neighborhood, pounding the pavement and huffing away for a half mile, one, two, and sometimes three. I think about it every time I start to get tired during my run, and every time I feel a surge of energy to go a few more steps. I think about it when my knee starts to cramp, when I know I'll be home icing my injury for the next week. I remember it every time I start to plan for the 9-mile Boilermaker in July.
I don't think I ever had another conversation with that particular gym coach. She didn't know me, I didn't know her, and we were destined to remain strangers. Yet she saw something in me that it took me over 10 years to figure out about myself. It's poignant to think that there are complete strangers out there who can see things about you that you never even knew existed. That sometimes the mirror we hold up to ourselves is so very cloudy in comparison to the window we keep clean for others.
My miles aren't a whole lot faster than they were back then, but I run every single step of every one. I don't get stiches in my side, and that first mile always goes too fast. I love it even when it hurts, and I feel nothing but pride in something that once caused me only shame. I'll never be a true athlete, but that stranger turned out to be completely right; I have the form for running.
There was one strange interaction, however, quickly forgotten at the time, that has somehow stayed with me ever since. My memory is a little fuzzy as to whether this happened in middle school or high school, or even what point in the torture it occurred, but I remember the conversation as clear as day. One of the gym coaches - the cross-country coach - approached me and asked me if I'd ever considered being on the team. She told me I had great form for a runner, and that I should really consider it. Knowing full well the extent of my land-speed record (and assuming that she didn't), I tried not to laugh and told her I'd think about it, shook my head, and jogged (I use the term loosely) away. Afterward, I told my other 13-minute friends the story, we had a good laugh, and life went on.
Cut to 10 (or maybe more) years later. I think about this conversation every single time I run through my neighborhood, pounding the pavement and huffing away for a half mile, one, two, and sometimes three. I think about it every time I start to get tired during my run, and every time I feel a surge of energy to go a few more steps. I think about it when my knee starts to cramp, when I know I'll be home icing my injury for the next week. I remember it every time I start to plan for the 9-mile Boilermaker in July.
I don't think I ever had another conversation with that particular gym coach. She didn't know me, I didn't know her, and we were destined to remain strangers. Yet she saw something in me that it took me over 10 years to figure out about myself. It's poignant to think that there are complete strangers out there who can see things about you that you never even knew existed. That sometimes the mirror we hold up to ourselves is so very cloudy in comparison to the window we keep clean for others.
My miles aren't a whole lot faster than they were back then, but I run every single step of every one. I don't get stiches in my side, and that first mile always goes too fast. I love it even when it hurts, and I feel nothing but pride in something that once caused me only shame. I'll never be a true athlete, but that stranger turned out to be completely right; I have the form for running.
January 12, 2006
Have Another
Felicity gets drunk and rambles on Ben's voicemail about how she doesn't "need" him. Great moment. Too bad she's full of shit...
Just Shoot the Damn Thing
So far, everything about turning 25 has completely and utterly sucked. Except the food. The food's been okay.
January 06, 2006
Caseyism
"Handing out fliers is tangible. It's like saying, 'here, you throw this out'."
~My Best Friend
~My Best Friend
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