Friday, June 29, 2007

Happy Birthday, Bro!

Today is my brother’s birthday. In honor of the occasion, I’m linking to Dancing Spiderman. I know, this thing has been around for years, but it still cracks me up. And it’s appropriate because when we were kids, my brother had a Spiderman cake for his birthday. I remember this because when left alone with it, rr and I ate all the frosting.

Ok, we may have licked the frosting just off of one side. In any event, Spiderman makes me think of my big brother.

So happy b’day to the best big brother ever! We love you!

I'm wondering if anyone would notice if I took a nap.

Have I mentioned that I’m trying to cut back on my coffee intake? Well, I am. In the last month or two, my intake has spiked considerably, and for the last month, I’ve noticed that I have a stomach ache and nausea pretty much every day. My sister constantly reminds me that I have a sensitive tummy, and then I proceed to forget about it and act like I’m all fine and dandy and drink ton ‘o java (me: “I don’t know why I don’t feel well.” her: “I do.”). So after a month I finally realized that, oh, yeah, my stomach hurts and it has every day for weeks, and then I realized that I had been drinking much more coffee than usual, and then I put two and two together. (“So . . . whoever killed Mr. Body . . . killed the cook!”) It’s a slow process for me, that addition thing.

So, anyway, I’m trying to cut back and eet ees keelling me. I cannot remember the last time I had a good night’s sleep due to (a) rr’s constant coughing all through the night, which I can hear very clearly from her room, (b) one of my cats taking to getting on my dresser around 3 in the morning and knocking my stuff off, (c) the cats taking turns being ill, (d) various loud, unidentifiable noises coming from outside in the middle of the night, (e) one of the cats chewing on shoes and an old backpack in an attempt to wake me up, annoy the hell out of me enough to get me out of bed, and cause me to feed her to get her to stop (she’s crafty), and (f) storms. The only one I don’t mind is rr’s coughing, because I want to wake up in case she accidentally, you know, coughs up a lung, because that’s how bad her coughing sounds, like that might actually happen, and I’ll need to drive her to the hospital.

So poor sleep plus less coffee equals this particular chicky extremully* nonproductive at work. But hey, I work for the government, so that’s ok, right? Your tax dollars at work! Hahahahahahaha!

No, but seriously, I need a pick-me-up. This nonproductivity is sure to get noticed at some point. My boss and the senior staff person in our work group give me serious eye-rollings when I say that I’m behind, but I’m looking at the list of stuff they are working on, and I look at the list of what I’m working on, and it’s at least twice as long. And ok, technickully, we don’t have deadlines, so it’s not like I’m going to get yelled at. But everyone knows when you aren’t getting as much done as everyone else, and even though you don’t get in trouble for not getting stuff done by a certain time, you don’t want that reputation as a slacker. And if you have the longest list of unfinished business, people definitely notice. So I am beeehind.

And you’ll notice that right now, instead of working, I’m posting on my blog.

But that’s because I need help! Help, y’all! Tips for productivity! And I am already having trouble fitting into my clothes, so skip any suggestions of A-I-S food.**

In other news, this website cracks me up.*

p.s. I am a rocking girl blogger! I will ‘splain later.

*I can tell that I am tired because I am amusing myself by making up words and spelling things incorrectly. And things that I would normally find just mildly amusing are now uproarious.

**A-I-S stands for “a**-in-seat” and comes from “Everybody loves Raymond.” Or at least, that’s where we got it from. RR and I use the term “A-I-S food” to mean snacks and the like that we eat while we’re studying or working on a project, food that keeps us sitting down. My theory is that the brain activity necessary for eating occupies that part of my brain that would otherwise be distracting me. Like why I draw all over the church bulletin during the sermon. It helps me pay attention. Also, I really like food, so it keeps me happy.

Friday, June 22, 2007

Time to “Spice Up Our Lives” Once Again?

Are the Spice Girls getting back together? Right now, they're just saying that they're going to announce their future plans, but I can't think of what that would be except for a reunion.

I . . . I just don’t know what to say.

Oh, wait, yes, I do.

WHAT?
and
WHY?

I have to say that part of me is excited. Don’t get me wrong, I could not stand them the first time around. In fact, I thought they were a joke. Kind of like my initial reaction to crocs. When I found out it wasn’t a joke, I still couldn’t accept them. I spent the rest of the time they were around asking, “really? I mean, really? People like them? Really?” And when they broke up, I thought, “Thank God!” The only thing even related to them that I remember fondly is that a local radio station in my college town had this advertisement making fun of the pop songs that were popular at the time, and the premise was that these would be the songs we’d be listening to in the old folks’ home, so there was this sound clip of an old man, who sounded a little like Grandpa Simpson, singing, “So tell ME what you want, what you really, really want, I’ll tell YOU what I want, what I really, really want” (although the premise was funnier when Margaret Cho did it –“Put on ‘Hungry Like the Wolf!’”). RR and I still break out into that sometimes. His version of “mmm-bop” was also humorous, but we don’t sing that one. Anyway, I couldn’t stand them, is my point, and I’m not excited about being subjected to a new round of their music.

And also, I think their time has passed. Their whole theme, I just don’t know if it would work now. (But then again, I couldn’t believe that it worked then)

That said, why am I so excited that they might get back together? Nostalgia? The potential for an easy target? What is it?

What’s the international sign for “get back to work”?

Do you guys remember “The State,” the sketch comedy show MTV aired in the late 90s? I loved that show. And because I associated it with my undergrad days, I’m very nostalgic about it.

And why do I bring this up? Because for some reason, the theme song [about 55 seconds into the clip] popped into my head this morning. I don’t mind the music, but it’s stuck in there good and proper, and that’s making me want to watch t.v., which they frown on you doing at work.

But I did take the time to verify that you can finally find some of the episodes online, including one of my all-time favorite sketches, “Choking.”

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

An open letter to Jes a/k/a “Chirky”

Dear jes,

I see from your blog that you are currently reading Anna Kareninininina. I have the suspicion, which I cannot shake, that you are reading this book because Oprah suggested it. Please tell me that it’s not so.

Hopefully, I remain
Yours, etc
JLR

You know who you are? You're Even Steven.

Good: Eating a healthy breakfast of Honey Bunches of Oats, blueberries, and walnuts
Bad: Starving by the time I got to work.
Good: For once having money in my wallet for the vending machine.
Bad: Nothing even close to healthy in the machine. (Pork rinds, anyone?)
Good: Having an excuse to eat powdered donuts.
Bad: The elevator stopping at almost every floor, both on the way down to the vending machine, and on the way back.
Good: Coffee is already made when I got to work, even though the woman who usually makes it is out of the office today.
Bad: Realizing, after drinking some of it, that the coffee is actually left over from yesterday.
Good: Getting to have lunch with a bunch of other lawyers at a restaurant I’ve been wanting to try.
Bad: Realizing that I have a gigantic run in my pantyhose.
Good: Remembering that I have an extra pair of pantyhose in my desk drawer.
Bad: Discovering that it’s actually just a pair of knee highs (??!!!!!??).
Good: Today is technically a holiday, so I’m earning comp time by being here.
Bad: A coworker in my “pod” is out today, and I have to cover for her, and I hate her job so much that it makes me feel a little nauseated.

I guess you could say that I’m having a pretty balanced day so far.

Monday, June 18, 2007

It could have been worse, I guess. It could have been dead bodies.

Ok, I have told almost everyone I know about this today, and no one seems all that freaked out by it.

I was reading a case out of a Texas court of appeals handed down back in 2004. Here’s what happened: this couple buys a house, right? They buy it “as is.” Bad idea. ALWAYS a bad idea. This is a perfect example of why. The buyers wanted to have a handicap accessible shower put in down in the basement. The contractor comes in, makes a hole in the wall to do the installation, and finds another room. Actually, he finds two bathrooms, a hallway, and half of a living room, all walled off in the basement. Extra space! That’s good, right? Wrong! See, these rooms were not empty. Nope. They were filled with “garbage, junk, and contaminated refuse, including a trash heap measuring more than six feet in height.” Yep, a trash heap more than six feet in height. The junk stored there included “rusty plumbing fixtures, bathtubs, sinks, commodes, boards, pipes, rocks, and used building materials. The trash was damp and contaminated with mold.”

Hidden room. Filled with trash.

FILLED.WITH.TRASH.

I can’t get past this. I can’t get past the idea of a person who would, rather than deal with having to get rid of all this stuff, just put a wall in front of it. Someone would rather lose two bathrooms and half a living room rather than throw their damn stuff out. These people are out there.

This is a life lesson, y’all. You need to figure out who in your life will build a wall around the problems in their life so that they can pretend the problems don’t exist, rather than deal with them. Find these people, and cut them out of your life before you get stuck with all their trash.

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Is it good that only part of me looked fat?

So, we had to have photos taken at work a few weeks ago. We got them back today to review, and I have to say, as far as photos go, these weren’t horrible. I am just not photogenic. Even RR, who thinks I’m beautiful, doesn’t think I can take a good picture. So any photo that doesn’t make me look down-right unattractive is a “good” picture to me. Even though I do not look like a movie star in any of these photos, as far as my low standards go, I don’t hate them. I don't hate them, even though my glasses are on crooked and I specifically asked the photographer if my glasses looked crooked (because they felt crooked).

That being said, I did notice that my face looks heavier than it usually does in pictures. That’s a sure sign of weight gain, when you start to see it in your face. Those pictures have therefore strengthened my resolve to do SOMETHING before I go up another size and have to buy all new clothes.

I just wish that I’d seen them before I ate two (stale) mini butterfingers.


(what? I was starving!)

Will this Saturday be a "hairrowing" experience? I will leave you know.

I cannot tell you how excited I am about Saturday. HAIRCUT DAY, BABY!!! Right now, my hair is just . . . blegk. That’s the sound I make every time I look into a mirror and see it. It also involves me making a face. You have to make the face to make the correct sound, which conveys both disgust and resignation.

I do have to say that I feel just the weensiest bit of trepidation about it, though, because I’m getting my hair cut by someone who’s never cut it before. That’s right, one of the things we women live in fear of has come to pass—my hair stylist up and left me, y’all. That is so not cool. I loved my hair stylist. She was the best. She could actually do things with my hair that made it look good, something none of the hair stylists I'd been to before could do with regularity. She was also cool and sweet, and once I even wrote her a thank you card telling her how great she was and begging her to let me know if she ever left the salon so that I could follow her to wherever she went.

And did I get a phone call or an email? NO, I did not, because she is not going to a new salon, she’s just leaving the work force altogether. I know staying home with her kids is important, good for her, and really, I think it’s probably the best for her situation. So while I applaud her decision for her sake, inside there’s a little voice screaming “nooooooooooooooooooooooo[infinity].” I’m so screwed, y’all.

Or I guess I should say, I'm so (potentially) screwed. Surely I can find one that can actually wrestle my hair into an (armed) truce? And if the woman cutting my hair on Saturday isn’t as good as my former stylist, and least it’s a haircut. So maybe Saturday won’t be as good as it could have been, but it will at least be a better hair day than today. It has to be, right?

Thursday, June 07, 2007

A backward poet writes inverse

I'm not saying it's a good effort (the meter's all over the place), but I was inspired:

Today the words on the non-dairy creamer container
nearly made me choke on my coffee remainders.
It seems the primary ingredient is corn syrup solids
which, surprisingly, does not make it olid

The second ingredient wasn’t much better.
I was dismayed to see those thirty-three letters–
Yes, my plans to be healthy were unfortunately foiled
by partially hydrogenated vegetable oil.

I don’t drink coffee black, so I guess I’m stuck
using a substance that’s basically muck.
And from here on out I, I hereby resolve
to not discover problems that I cannot solve.

Animate Animus

You know how some people believe that all things, including inanimate objects, have souls? Yeah, I don’t believe that. I just don’t believe that my lipstick has a soul.

But sometimes, sometimes, it seems that inanimate objects must be alive, because otherwise, how do you explain the fact that objects that are supposedly without life are not without spite? If you don’t want to call it spite, then you gotta admit that they have, at the least, a good dollop of schadenfreude.

I say this because sometimes it strikes me that when some object does something annoying, that It’s Doing It On Purpose.

You know what I mean. You yourself think the same thing when your computer just lays down in the road and refuses to do what you need it to do. Nope, I am not going to print, nor will I let you click on anything. Yeah, you’ve yelled at the computer, and you didn’t feel silly yelling at some plastic and metal non-sentient being, because you knew it was fully conscious and deliberately taunting you.

But I don’t think it’s limited to computers. No, it’s all things, all things out there in one giant inside joke, one great big conspiracy to bring frustration into my otherwise zen-like existence. At least, it feels personal when things are making my life just a weensy bit more difficult.

Can’t get the desk drawer to open? Or to close? Sometimes, no matter how irrational, I believe that the desk is doing it on purpose. Open my car door, reach over to the passenger seat to grab my stuff, turn around only to have the car door slam shut now that my hands are full? Ooooon purpose. Magazine that will not stay open to the page I want while I’m on the elliptical? Stack of things that won’t stay stacked? Stapler that is not jammed and is not out of staples but will not staple together two thin little sheets of paper? Absolutely deliberate.

What about you? I want to hear about what out there in the world is Out To Get You.
***
And now, the thought for the day, brought to you by the Surrealist Compliment Generator:
Your legs are like threads of cotton, though much thicker, and filled with weevils.