Thursday, December 28, 2006

Now Taking Suggestions.

I need a new website to read in my down time. I am admittedly hooked on TwoP and EW, but one can only hit refresh on the browser, wishing vainly for new content to be posted, so many times in one (work) day. And as much as I love the Surrealist Compliment Generator ("Thine right eye so plitherates that thine left eye doth graze upon it."), but after a bit, it just seems to keep kicking up the ones you just read. So I need something new to read, and I am now taking your suggestions as to what that should be.

Some rules, though: I don’t want any suggestions for or the like. Clearly, I do not mind websites that offer little in the way of intellectual stimulation–I do read EW. But I read EW because I like movies, tv, and music, and that website has precious little in the way of celebrity gossip. What celebrities are up to, I could not care less. Brittany and K-Fed divorcing? Don’t care. Paris Hilton or Lindsay Lohan wasting more oxygen? Other than taking offense on the behalf of the rest of humanity that we have to share the same planet with them, don’t care. I can pretend to care with the best of them, but when you speak of such things to me, note the glazing of the eyes as I shift my intellectual resources so that I use just enough brain power to keep breathing, standing upright, and pretending to appear interested. No sense in wasting energy.

It’s not that I think less of you if you are interested in such things. I mean, I kind of do, but then I catch myself and remind myself that so many people are interested in that twaddle, that if I were to let myself feel superior to all of them, then I would become one of those really arrogant intellectual snobs, the ones that look down on anyone who didn’t graduate from college, because obviously anyone who didn’t go to college is stuck somewhere a few steps back in the evolution chain and is incapable of understanding anything more complicated than a zipper. I don’t like those snobs. So, yeah, I don’t think less of you, it’s just that I don’t get it. I don’t understand why the lives of people you do not know and will never meet are in any way interesting to you. And since some of my very closest friends subscribe to Us Weekly, I guess I could ask for an explanation, but even that is something I don’t care about. I don’t care about why you care.

So, anyway, no such suggestions, please.

Also, if you suggest other people’s blogs, make sure they are actually interesting, because just as I am generally not interested in the lives of famous people I do not know, likewise I am generally not interested in the lives of non-famous people that I do not know. But if the reading is entertaining, then I’m there. I just don't want to read pages and pages of "today I went to the grocery store," or "omg, I was so wasted."

And as a caveat to the above rant against celebrity gossip, I do sometimes enjoy websites that make fun of celebrities. So, for example, occassionally, I like to visit GoFugYourself, not because it makes fun of celebrities, but because sometimes it’s also very funny. So just because it mentions celebrities, doesn’t mean you can’t suggest it.

Ok, is there anyone left with a good suggestion that I haven’t scared off or annoyed? Anyone?

Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Blood Blister. Blech.

I made candy at my parents’ house this weekend—yummy, sugary, addictive candy. I am the “clean as you go” type in the kitchen, so early on in the process I stopped to clean up the mess I had made. As I was unfolding my parents dish drainer, it slipped out of my grasp and refolded itself. It’s happened before, but this time, it snapped some of my thumb in with it. It hurt like the dickens. I hate that stupid drainer. Getting it to work is like trying to change a toddler’s diaper: it involves a lot of wrestling and accidentally holding it wrong-side up, and it’s often ultimately unsuccessful.

I jerked my thumb back and looked at it. A series of events happened very, very quickly. First, I saw nothing, then a small red mark, such as you would get on your skin if someone pinched you. Then I saw a further discoloring, as though the spot were filling with . . . blood. Yep, I got myself a blood blister. At first I just thought it was a bruise and told myself (sarcastically), “great! internal bleeding!” Then I realized that, yes, it was internal bleeding, but it wasn’t going to be an ordinary bruise—it was maroon and swelling.

Like a big baby, I showed it to my mother, who commanded me to put ice on it and then showed appropriate levels of Mom Sympathy. I don’t think you ever get too old to want that. Anyway, I haven’t yet. Then I milked it some more when my dad and my sister returned home from the store. Really, it wasn’t so much that I wanted to be coddled as it was that it freaked me out, and I wanted it to go away, and talking about it kept me from freaking out too much. But still. Big baby.

But it’s GROSS. And then rr filled me in that it may not be just blood: it could also be lymph and other bodily fluids in there. Ew, ew, ew! And now I look down at it constantly. It has now hardened into what looks like a sub-skin scab. It’s definitely that blackish scabby color.

I’m grateful that I didn’t lose a finger or anything that serious, but I am still mad at that drainer.

Sunday, December 24, 2006

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas, everyone!

If you need some entertainment, check out these holiday favorites (thanks to for the link).

Friday, December 22, 2006

Six Things

Deals tagged me to blog about six weird things about me. I'm not going to. I can't think of six weird things (and note that most of the things listed by those I've seen so far in other people’s postings mostly aren't so much what I’d call weird as they are personal preferences). Also, although I'm always very flattered when I get tagged (someone knows I exist!), I hate having to do them, because they feel like chain letters to me. And finally, I'm not sure that I know six people in the blogworld that haven't already done this. So instead, I've decided to start my own game of tag and list “Six Things That Weird Me Out” (a topic I've discussed before).

Here are the rules: consider yourself tagged if you are reading this and you want to be tagged. You must list up to six things that freak you out, and I don't mean things that you merely don't like or that kind of gross you out or even things that you hate. I mean, things that give you the heebie-jeebies, the screamin' meemies, the involuntary full-body shudder up your spine. If you can't think of six things that come up to that standard, only list those things that do–don't fill in things that only make you mildly uncomfortable. You may add other things to your list to get to six, but you must clarify what things on your list don't technically meet the qualifications.

(1) whole, uncooked chickens. Or as rr calls it, “chicken baby.” Once I was rinsing one under the sink prior to cooking, and as I lifted it to put it in a pot, I noticed that the weight and weight distribution were creepily similar to that of a baby. So now dead, whole, uncooked chickens=babies, and I cannot handle them.
(2) Hot tubs.
(3) Anyone dressed as anything (other than themselves) on any day other than Halloween or to a costume party, including people dressed as animals at theme parks, clowns, and mimes (who, by the way, create in me a strong desire to punch them).* What bothers me is the person's insistence on pretending to be someone else (which I refuse to play along with), and that's probably why I am not bothered by people at costume parties or Halloween: they are dressed as someone else but not pretending to be (and insisting you treat them as) someone else. You will not find me having a discussion with anyone at a historical village for this very reason—we both know you aren't from 1785 , and I absolutely cannot be around you if you keep insisting that you are. Weirdo.
(4) Men driving without their shirts on. Please do not try to explain it to me because there is no valid excuse for this behavior. THERE JUST ISN'T ONE.

And that’s all I can think of for now. But to round out my list, I’m including two things that provoke an equally strong reaction, but instead of a full-body shudder, they provoke intense anger.
(5) Men not just looking but full-on leering out their car window at you. What is up with that? We can see you, you pervert! It’s a pet peeve in general that so many men turn their heads to get a good look at you as they drive by, but the leering, the obvious ogling, that’s just disgusting and inappropriate, and if you do that, you deserve to have your eyes poked out. Because you make women feel gross and mildly violated and victimized, and the fact that you do it from your car as you’re driving by means we can’t do anything about it, you coward. So for that, eyes poked out.

Wow, I feel really strongly about that.

(6) George Stephanopoulos. I don’t know why he affects me this way, but every time I see his smug, smarmy face looking out at me from the television, I really wish he was with me in person so that I could kick him. I don’t know why! I just want him to quit smirking at me. I think too many women have told him that he's cute and it's gone to his head and is now oozing out of his pores.

*I once read something online (probably TWoP) in which the author said that some people create this feeling in him as well, and he thought it was because those people freaked him out so much that his “fight or flight” instinct kicked in. I think that's what happens with me and mimes.

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Stuck In a Loop That You Can’t Get Out Of

I don’t know what it is about me and the operation of phones, but sometimes I feel like I’m trapped in a “white hole” (see the show “Red Dwarf” for the reference), just repeating the same moment over and over again.

For example, sometimes I pick up the phone to call sis, and I call her cell phone when I meant to call her at home. So then I hang up and go to dial her home, but instead dial her cell again. So I hang up, make a sound of irritation, then dial her home fast and furiously . . . but really dial her cell phone again. This can go on for a full minute or two, with me getting angrier and angrier at myself (or, as rr and I say, “very grr”) as my fingers repeatedly dial the wrong number as if independent from the control of my brain.

Anyway, this morning I guess my phone thought it was be amusing to spend a few minutes playing a similar kind of game. Like many people, I have voice command on my phone, and so I can tell it call someone programmed into my phone book without me having to physically dial the number. This feature is great for dialing while driving. On my phone, all the phone numbers for one person are stored together, and you just select from which number you want to call. So, for example, if I tell it to call mom, it will ask me first I want to call her home, and if I say no, it will ask me if I want to call her cell, and if I say no, it will ask me if I want to call her work number.

So this morning I decide to call rae at home. I have that programmed in my phone under “us.” This is the conversation I had with my phone:

[I press the voice command button]
Phone: Please say a command. Beep!
Me: Call someone? [it only recognizes commands from me if I phrase them as a question]
Phone: Please say a name. Beep!
Me: Us?
Phone: Did you say “us”? Beep!
Me: Yes. [“yes” and “no” answers, on the other hand, it only recognizes if I say very firmly].
Phone: Call home? Beep!
Me: Yes.
Phone: We do not recognize that entry. Please say a name. Beep! [and at this point, I thought, ok, maybe I stored it as a cell phone number, so I’ll try again but ask to dial the cell number.]
Me: Us.
Phone: Did you say “us”? Beep!
Me: Yes.
Phone: Call home? Beep!
Me: No.
Phone: Did you say “us”? Beep!
Me: Yes.
Phone: Call home? Beep!
Me: No. [very firmly]
Phone: Did you say “us”? Beep!
Me: Yes. [also very firmly]
Phone: Call home? Beep!
Me: No. [starting to get irritated]
Phone: Did you say “us”? Beep!
Me: Yes.
Phone: Call home? Beep!
Me: No.
Phone: Did you say “us”? Beep!
Me: Yes.
Phone: Call home? Beep!
Me: No!

At this point, I was very grrd, to say the least. I just hung up, because it clearly wasn’t going to let me make any phone calls.

Friday, December 08, 2006


On Tuesday, I was driving home on the freeway, and I drove through hay. I can only assume that someone was hauling hay and some of it fell off (although I’d prefer to believe that someone had been sprinkling hay on the freeway just to spice up the drive home for the rest of us).

It was just enough hay to be interesting, and not too much for me to be concerned that it might hurt my car. And then, after I drove through the main hay pile, for the next quarter mile or so, there was just a sort of “winter wonderland” hay effect, with hay just drifting gently through the air, a little haystorm on the freeway.

It just about made my day. I mean, you don’t see that everyday.