So, we have a really funny post to make some point in the not-so-distant future, about the crazy happenings that can happen, should you see fit to go to dinner with Kristine, Crystal, and Allie. I should be making it now, but the truth is, I'm still a little shaken from the events of this morning.
Nobody died, it's nothing serious, everybody's okay. There's my disclaimer.
This morning, my sweetie was outside grilling some chicken, and I was in the bedroom doing laundry, when I heard a dog barking. I went outside to investigate, and it turned out to be Villain, the dog who lives in the house that backs onto us. Villain's a beautiful tan Pitbull, only young. He's having a little ruff-ruff because Barbara's gone over to say hi to the neighbors. So I go over to join her, and he's still barking. Understandably. He's protecting his Mommy.
Anyway, the neighbor decides that, seeing as we're not going anywhere, it might be time to introduce us, so she opens the gate, and lets us into her back yard, where Villain is. He had a sniff around us both, a couple of ruffs, a few more sniffs, and then flung himself at my arm, teeth bared.
I will have quite the interesting bruise, and marks there, but I can honestly say it didn't hurt. Nobody even knew it had happened until Barbara and I came back in the house and I burst into tears. I guess it must have been shock. I've had dogs my entire life, and while I've always rough-and-tumbled with them, I've never been bitten in anger. Wait. I don't think Villain bit me in anger, per se, he was just protecting his Mommy, and I didn't want to get him in trouble. I've always preferred the company of animals over that of humans, and I can completely understand why he felt threatened. The size of his teeth, he could have done a lot more damage, if that had been his intention, and I really think it was just a warning. That doesn't mean I didn't spend half the day crying though. Wimp.
Next time, I shall shower with bacon, then maybe he'll let me in.
Poignant, Opinionated, Feral and Female. Be scared. She Squared.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Saturday, August 30, 2008
First Takes Always Lead to Bloopers
So I'm a big lame-ass recently, and haven't been posting as much as I should have been. I have excuses, but you don't want them. The dog ate my homework. See?
Anyway, I intend to jump back on the bandwagon this week, with my sweetie working all the hours under the sun, but for now I would like to show you a little something. It's been three weeks since She Squared brought you their version of Saving Grace, and I now feel it's time for you to see what went into our efforts. At least, sort of...
Anyway, I promise I promise I promise to update more this week. And, y'know, let me know if y'all need a translation. Yeeee Dawgie!
Anyway, I intend to jump back on the bandwagon this week, with my sweetie working all the hours under the sun, but for now I would like to show you a little something. It's been three weeks since She Squared brought you their version of Saving Grace, and I now feel it's time for you to see what went into our efforts. At least, sort of...
Anyway, I promise I promise I promise to update more this week. And, y'know, let me know if y'all need a translation. Yeeee Dawgie!
CoffeeLand Convos
2 cops walk into a Coffee Bar... (names and places are fake to maintain my employment)
Hulking Police Officer #1: Can I get a Large Vanilla Latte?
(I'm off at the machines, making said coffee drink while a co-worker chats with them)
Hulking Police Officer #2: Hey, don't I know you? (I assume he's speaking to my younger cute co-worker who would be the likely choice to hit on - but no, after a longer pause, I realize he's speaking to me)
Me: (squinting at him) I don't know, do you?
Hulking Officer #2: Yeah! I remember you from the advanced latent fingerprint course at the police academy! Wow!
Me: Oh! John Smith! Yeah! I remember. How're you doing with those latents? That was a great class.
Hulking Officer #1: Oh yeah, the only female in the class. You told me about her. (points at me) You were working at {insert random place here}, right?
Me: Yep. Good memory.
Hulking Officer #2: Long time, right? I switched to municipal police because there's a lot more money in it. How's your... uh...
(uncomfortable silence as they both look at me in my apron and wonder if I'm even employed anymore and prepare to swallow their feet)
Me: Here's your Latte.
Hulking Police Officer #1: Can I get a Large Vanilla Latte?
(I'm off at the machines, making said coffee drink while a co-worker chats with them)
Hulking Police Officer #2: Hey, don't I know you? (I assume he's speaking to my younger cute co-worker who would be the likely choice to hit on - but no, after a longer pause, I realize he's speaking to me)
Me: (squinting at him) I don't know, do you?
Hulking Officer #2: Yeah! I remember you from the advanced latent fingerprint course at the police academy! Wow!
Me: Oh! John Smith! Yeah! I remember. How're you doing with those latents? That was a great class.
Hulking Officer #1: Oh yeah, the only female in the class. You told me about her. (points at me) You were working at {insert random place here}
Me: Yep. Good memory.
Hulking Officer #2: Long time, right? I switched to municipal police because there's a lot more money in it. How's your... uh...
(uncomfortable silence as they both look at me in my apron and wonder if I'm even employed anymore and prepare to swallow their feet)
Me: Here's your Latte.
Can Not Do
I awoke today recovering from yesterday's 20 hour day. Granted, not all 20 were 100% work, but they may as well have been by 1am. The 1.5 hours in between the 2 jobs could have been considered a nice break, but not when you have to drive home from one, change clothes and maybe grab a bite, then drive to the other one.
I couldn't fall asleep when I got in at 1am because I kept thinking to myself "during the week, I'd get home at one and have 4-4,5 hours to sleep before I had to get up and do it again". I'm going to have to reconsider the times of the 2nd job, me thinks.
I couldn't fall asleep when I got in at 1am because I kept thinking to myself "during the week, I'd get home at one and have 4-4,5 hours to sleep before I had to get up and do it again". I'm going to have to reconsider the times of the 2nd job, me thinks.
Friday, August 29, 2008
RNC VP T&A?
In the officer's dining room (ODR) today while eating lunch, the TV was on the totally unbiased and wonderfully independent channel of CNN. As I walked in I saw immediately that something HUGE was going on, as all eyes were on the screen - and not much slows this group down when it comes to food.
Senator "Old Man McStroke" was announcing his new running mate/Rep. Vice Presidential hopeful, Gov. Sarah Palin.
O. M. G. *rolls eyes*
This is my take in the 3.5 minutes I tolerated being in that room.
On Screen:
~ Love Child of Sally Field and Amy Winehouse with the 70's suit and the beehive hairdo.
~ Spoke under the crowd's volume, then clapped into the microphone super loud, cheerleader style. I expected Spirit Fingers at any second
~ Used the term "9/11" within one minute
~ Introduced her big-oil-employed husband (while the ticker under him said "Snowmobile Champion")
~ Ticker kept repeating facts about her, including the snowmobiling hubby, the 5 children (one of whom deploys to Iraq on 9/11, the youngest with Down's Syndrome, and the other three that I suppose don't matter), her long term membership in the NRA, and her strong anti-abortion stance (as demonstrated by her clan of spawn); among other things
In The ODR:
~ A few dozen men drooling at the screen saying "You got my vote baby!" "Look at the DD's on her!" "With the wife and now this chesty broad, I don't care if McCain is a tool, he's got my vote!"
I thought they were all joking, and in some aspects, they were - but overall I fear that when it comes down to election day, perhaps Obama should have considered asking Connie Rice instead of some smart foreign policy guy with no tits and the ability to grow hair on his face. I admit that even I am in a tough spot to sort through the details and facts of all parties and candidates to decide, however I am sure that Palin's rack will not influence my vote.
Senator "Old Man McStroke" was announcing his new running mate/Rep. Vice Presidential hopeful, Gov. Sarah Palin.
O. M. G. *rolls eyes*
This is my take in the 3.5 minutes I tolerated being in that room.
On Screen:
~ Love Child of Sally Field and Amy Winehouse with the 70's suit and the beehive hairdo.
~ Spoke under the crowd's volume, then clapped into the microphone super loud, cheerleader style. I expected Spirit Fingers at any second
~ Used the term "9/11" within one minute
~ Introduced her big-oil-employed husband (while the ticker under him said "Snowmobile Champion")
~ Ticker kept repeating facts about her, including the snowmobiling hubby, the 5 children (one of whom deploys to Iraq on 9/11, the youngest with Down's Syndrome, and the other three that I suppose don't matter), her long term membership in the NRA, and her strong anti-abortion stance (as demonstrated by her clan of spawn); among other things
In The ODR:
~ A few dozen men drooling at the screen saying "You got my vote baby!" "Look at the DD's on her!" "With the wife and now this chesty broad, I don't care if McCain is a tool, he's got my vote!"
I thought they were all joking, and in some aspects, they were - but overall I fear that when it comes down to election day, perhaps Obama should have considered asking Connie Rice instead of some smart foreign policy guy with no tits and the ability to grow hair on his face. I admit that even I am in a tough spot to sort through the details and facts of all parties and candidates to decide, however I am sure that Palin's rack will not influence my vote.
Housie Update
I figured calling it a "housie" would make it seem less daunting, maybe even kind of cute. Then I could even bring in rhyming - Housie Mousie, or the Housie Wousie with my Spousie.
Not working. It's still major construction project, and it's still stressful as all blogging hell.
So, we are waiting for the final permits to be, uh, permitted and then it begins. There was a glitch in the permit to give them the plans to get the permits. They called and said the survey was reduced. I was thrilled! Less money!? Nope. They meant the size of the paper that the survey was on had been reduced, and they couldn't accept the plans as they were. OK, to rectify the sitch, I had to come up with the original survey on the original paper. Not so easy when the only survey copy I got was the one in my mortgage packet which is bound and uniform, easy to read, but apparently the survey page was scanned and printed to fit and the town found this unacceptable. Asshats. OK. PANIC. I needed this to be approved yesterday and now there is a glitch.
So I call my mortgage guy. Yep. You heard me. He was the only person I could think of who could a) Tell me what I was looking for b) Tell me where I might find it c) Tell me what I could do if I can't find it. It couldn't be faxed because it would "alter the size in some way". OK, fine, but I can't crap the thing out of thin air and time is running out! Joe (hereafter referred to as Mortgage God; or MG and to be accompanied by the sound of choirs and angels with harps) found my survey info within seconds, scanned and emailed it to me in 3 different formats just in case one didn't work. It was again rejected by the town, because it was a scanned copy, and might not be to scale. OK. Now MG *insert angels and harps* jumps into super mode and finds the original survey company. He calls them himself and has them fax, mail and prepare a copy for me to pick up in person, since the place is semi-local. Luckily Lisa had time and she ran to get them. I handed them over to the contractor who would take them to the inspector himself to bitch about the commotion. When I opened the 'real' survey - it's the same fucking size as the faxed one, the scanned one, and the copies!!! I was seething!!!
So the main point is that we are back on track here, and I expect the call telling me to bring my checkbook and a waiver for my first born to get the permits-then construction begins in a week. All good and well, but none of this would be flowing right now if it weren't for the magnificent Joe Kustra of Quicken Loans. I linked him for a reason. Go visit him. People had told me that mortgages were evil things and buying a home would turn me grey and give me hemorrhoids. I was told I should just razor my wrists instead of dealing with the mortgage people, especially since I had never owned property or bought anything before. So, I looked around a lot, did research on companies, and listened to recommendations from friends and strangers. I went with Quicken, referred by the wonderful Lynn and Joe in NH. Joe actually does software creation or some technical designing thing with applications they use in the company so he must know if it's good, not to mention they use them too. The referral saved me $500 off the bat as a promotion they have if you are referred by someone. That was a bonus, and helped at closing. I can't say enough about how smoothly everything went. Joe Kustra was amazing, and he was there 24/7. He gave me his personal cell for any questions, and he always had the information at his fingertips. He answered all of my insane questions - even ones that had nothing to do with the house. "Boxers or Briefs Joe, I need to know." He had a great sense of humor, put up with my neurosis and made things so much easier. I hardly drugged myself to sleep during the process at all.
I recommend that anyone thinking of refinancing or buying, give him a call. At the very least, he can guide you and introduce himself. I think you'd be very happy with him. If I weren't such a huge queer, I'm sure I would have moved up there and made babies with this man. Now THAT'S a stamp of approval if I ever heard one. Don't forget to tell him that it's a friends and family referral from me to get that great deal.
Not working. It's still major construction project, and it's still stressful as all blogging hell.
So, we are waiting for the final permits to be, uh, permitted and then it begins. There was a glitch in the permit to give them the plans to get the permits. They called and said the survey was reduced. I was thrilled! Less money!? Nope. They meant the size of the paper that the survey was on had been reduced, and they couldn't accept the plans as they were. OK, to rectify the sitch, I had to come up with the original survey on the original paper. Not so easy when the only survey copy I got was the one in my mortgage packet which is bound and uniform, easy to read, but apparently the survey page was scanned and printed to fit and the town found this unacceptable. Asshats. OK. PANIC. I needed this to be approved yesterday and now there is a glitch.
So I call my mortgage guy. Yep. You heard me. He was the only person I could think of who could a) Tell me what I was looking for b) Tell me where I might find it c) Tell me what I could do if I can't find it. It couldn't be faxed because it would "alter the size in some way". OK, fine, but I can't crap the thing out of thin air and time is running out! Joe (hereafter referred to as Mortgage God; or MG and to be accompanied by the sound of choirs and angels with harps) found my survey info within seconds, scanned and emailed it to me in 3 different formats just in case one didn't work. It was again rejected by the town, because it was a scanned copy, and might not be to scale. OK. Now MG *insert angels and harps* jumps into super mode and finds the original survey company. He calls them himself and has them fax, mail and prepare a copy for me to pick up in person, since the place is semi-local. Luckily Lisa had time and she ran to get them. I handed them over to the contractor who would take them to the inspector himself to bitch about the commotion. When I opened the 'real' survey - it's the same fucking size as the faxed one, the scanned one, and the copies!!! I was seething!!!
So the main point is that we are back on track here, and I expect the call telling me to bring my checkbook and a waiver for my first born to get the permits-then construction begins in a week. All good and well, but none of this would be flowing right now if it weren't for the magnificent Joe Kustra of Quicken Loans. I linked him for a reason. Go visit him. People had told me that mortgages were evil things and buying a home would turn me grey and give me hemorrhoids. I was told I should just razor my wrists instead of dealing with the mortgage people, especially since I had never owned property or bought anything before. So, I looked around a lot, did research on companies, and listened to recommendations from friends and strangers. I went with Quicken, referred by the wonderful Lynn and Joe in NH. Joe actually does software creation or some technical designing thing with applications they use in the company so he must know if it's good, not to mention they use them too. The referral saved me $500 off the bat as a promotion they have if you are referred by someone. That was a bonus, and helped at closing. I can't say enough about how smoothly everything went. Joe Kustra was amazing, and he was there 24/7. He gave me his personal cell for any questions, and he always had the information at his fingertips. He answered all of my insane questions - even ones that had nothing to do with the house. "Boxers or Briefs Joe, I need to know." He had a great sense of humor, put up with my neurosis and made things so much easier. I hardly drugged myself to sleep during the process at all.
I recommend that anyone thinking of refinancing or buying, give him a call. At the very least, he can guide you and introduce himself. I think you'd be very happy with him. If I weren't such a huge queer, I'm sure I would have moved up there and made babies with this man. Now THAT'S a stamp of approval if I ever heard one. Don't forget to tell him that it's a friends and family referral from me to get that great deal.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
On Humble Gratitude
Tonight, as Lisa drove me home from my job at "Coffeeland" she informed me that the hit counter for this blog was at 998.
It caused me to stop and get giddy. Seriously - and not just from the coffee beans I had been freebasing earlier.
While reading this entry, you might have been the one person to tip the number over 1,000. Oh yes, you might have been the one to touch greatness. I think this is great. I love being able to blog you all. I think it's my fave noun/verb combo now. I'm going to try to trademark it as a slang curse.
"I was so pissed at my blogging boss for yelling at me in front of those bikers!"
"Dude! You are the Blog!"
I told you once, so just Blog Off!"
So there you have it. It'll catch on. I'm confident.
On my rare serious note - thanks so much to all of you who have supported and encouraged us in this endeavour. We love and need you all.
If you hate us, go blog yourself.
It caused me to stop and get giddy. Seriously - and not just from the coffee beans I had been freebasing earlier.
While reading this entry, you might have been the one person to tip the number over 1,000. Oh yes, you might have been the one to touch greatness. I think this is great. I love being able to blog you all. I think it's my fave noun/verb combo now. I'm going to try to trademark it as a slang curse.
"I was so pissed at my blogging boss for yelling at me in front of those bikers!"
"Dude! You are the Blog!"
I told you once, so just Blog Off!"
So there you have it. It'll catch on. I'm confident.
On my rare serious note - thanks so much to all of you who have supported and encouraged us in this endeavour. We love and need you all.
If you hate us, go blog yourself.
Like Tin Foil In A Microwave
Ok, so now that we've all had a nice little chuckle at my expense, let's get a few things straight about my MRI experience.
First of all, I'm used to/fine with removing all jewelry and belts and piercings and answering "No" to the "Do you have any surgically implanted metal rods running up your anus to your brain?" questions. This time, the guy said it was fine to leave steel toed boots and my ring. He said since they weren't going near the entrance to the machine, it'd be fine.
Fine my ass. The very second that machine started up (and we'll get back to that later) my hand began to jiggle in some wavy, jerky shaking motion. It totally freaked me out, and I hit the bulb trigger to alert them of the issue. The booming God-Speaker voice asked what the problem was, and I said my hand was funky. One of the techs came in and said "well, why are you wearing a ring?" Um, because you told me I could, Jackass? So he took it off for me and tucked it into my cargo pocket. So, that must be the feeling tin foil gets in the micro. I have learned my lesson. I will be kinder to foil in the future.
So back to the machine itself. I've been through a fair few of these utterly horrible tests in my life. I have gotten pretty good at drugging myself a bit, dealing with it, and then retreating like a whimpering puppy till I feel better. This time, I get on the tiny slider table, position myself accordingly, and then they bring out this thing and begin to put it over my face. Those who know me know that not much throws me for a loop, but my first thought was - I'm the (wo)Man In The Iron Mask, they are going to throw me in a dungeon and my evil twin sister will rule the kingdom.
The second mental image this thing invoked - the olde tyme Scold's Bridle - the gate-like metal helmet that surrounded the head and had a spiked piece that went in the mouth to prevent speaking and to inflict pain. While it's true that this thing wasn't made of metal, and it didn't have a mouth spike, it was all too frighteningly similar.
I guess overall, the addition of this to the process of the MRI itself could seem very small or insignificant until you consider that it's around your head the entire time, keeping you immobile and more penned in that tube, if that were even possible. The last time I was there, I could listen to music on the headphones and there was a tiny mirror so you could see up into the booth where the techs were, and it kind of put you at ease to see something at all while in there. This time, there was nothing.
Less than nothing.
There was a frikking hard plastic band over my head and eyes (maybe more over my eyes because I'm a shorter person) and it caused panic. Utter mental end-of-the-world breakdown in my head. Then add the freaking odd uber loud sounds and you have a party. I could have dealt, but because there is no longer music headphones, they put these yellow sound muffling tings inside your ears, and when you have balance issues and noise issues and now you can't see even with your eyes open, it's insane sounding.
I was SO unhappy this time.
I swear, just find the problem areas and chop them out with a hacksaw so that I don't have to go through this anymore. That's what I want. Roto-Rooter it all out. have the guys from Ghost Hunters come and do the Roto-Rooter thing, then hunt for ghosts in my skull. It'll be a party.
First of all, I'm used to/fine with removing all jewelry and belts and piercings and answering "No" to the "Do you have any surgically implanted metal rods running up your anus to your brain?" questions. This time, the guy said it was fine to leave steel toed boots and my ring. He said since they weren't going near the entrance to the machine, it'd be fine.
Fine my ass. The very second that machine started up (and we'll get back to that later) my hand began to jiggle in some wavy, jerky shaking motion. It totally freaked me out, and I hit the bulb trigger to alert them of the issue. The booming God-Speaker voice asked what the problem was, and I said my hand was funky. One of the techs came in and said "well, why are you wearing a ring?" Um, because you told me I could, Jackass? So he took it off for me and tucked it into my cargo pocket. So, that must be the feeling tin foil gets in the micro. I have learned my lesson. I will be kinder to foil in the future.
So back to the machine itself. I've been through a fair few of these utterly horrible tests in my life. I have gotten pretty good at drugging myself a bit, dealing with it, and then retreating like a whimpering puppy till I feel better. This time, I get on the tiny slider table, position myself accordingly, and then they bring out this thing and begin to put it over my face. Those who know me know that not much throws me for a loop, but my first thought was - I'm the (wo)Man In The Iron Mask, they are going to throw me in a dungeon and my evil twin sister will rule the kingdom.
The second mental image this thing invoked - the olde tyme Scold's Bridle - the gate-like metal helmet that surrounded the head and had a spiked piece that went in the mouth to prevent speaking and to inflict pain. While it's true that this thing wasn't made of metal, and it didn't have a mouth spike, it was all too frighteningly similar.
I guess overall, the addition of this to the process of the MRI itself could seem very small or insignificant until you consider that it's around your head the entire time, keeping you immobile and more penned in that tube, if that were even possible. The last time I was there, I could listen to music on the headphones and there was a tiny mirror so you could see up into the booth where the techs were, and it kind of put you at ease to see something at all while in there. This time, there was nothing.
Less than nothing.
There was a frikking hard plastic band over my head and eyes (maybe more over my eyes because I'm a shorter person) and it caused panic. Utter mental end-of-the-world breakdown in my head. Then add the freaking odd uber loud sounds and you have a party. I could have dealt, but because there is no longer music headphones, they put these yellow sound muffling tings inside your ears, and when you have balance issues and noise issues and now you can't see even with your eyes open, it's insane sounding.
I was SO unhappy this time.
I swear, just find the problem areas and chop them out with a hacksaw so that I don't have to go through this anymore. That's what I want. Roto-Rooter it all out. have the guys from Ghost Hunters come and do the Roto-Rooter thing, then hunt for ghosts in my skull. It'll be a party.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Don't Drug-Text me
Today, my beloved Ligie had to go have an MRI. My sweetie has a little anxiety over closed spaces (such as airplanes...), so about three Xanax made their way into her system before she had to go into the cage. Her appointment was at 3:30, so by the time I got out of class at 5pm, they had firmly begun to knock her unconscious.
As is my usual plan of action, I was going to stop by Starbucks on the way home, so I called her to see if she wanted anything. The first phone call went unanswered, the second was answered by silence, and the third went to voicemail. At this point I just wanted to cover my butt in case she was awake when I got home with one coffee in hand, so I sent her a text. No answer, so one coffee it was.
When I finally arrived, my sweetie was laying on top of the bed, completely out cold. I'll leave out the part about the drool-covered pillow, so that we can all pretend that never happened.
Oops.
Alice was laying on top of her, cleaning her hair, so I grabbed Barb's cell phone to take a video of it, to show her later. It was open, and on it was the following message, mid-composition:
"Ohhkthcmds ilwj"
That was her response to me. My beloved passed out as she was writing it. In hindsight, I should be grateful, because while I speak drugged-Ligie, drugged-texting-Ligie is a little bit of a stretch. I have a feeling that had I given that to a barista, Barb would have got a half-caf-double-shot-three-pump-sugar-free-mocha-chip-latte. Hold the whip.
As is my usual plan of action, I was going to stop by Starbucks on the way home, so I called her to see if she wanted anything. The first phone call went unanswered, the second was answered by silence, and the third went to voicemail. At this point I just wanted to cover my butt in case she was awake when I got home with one coffee in hand, so I sent her a text. No answer, so one coffee it was.
When I finally arrived, my sweetie was laying on top of the bed, completely out cold. I'll leave out the part about the drool-covered pillow, so that we can all pretend that never happened.
Oops.
Alice was laying on top of her, cleaning her hair, so I grabbed Barb's cell phone to take a video of it, to show her later. It was open, and on it was the following message, mid-composition:
"Ohhkthcmds ilwj"
That was her response to me. My beloved passed out as she was writing it. In hindsight, I should be grateful, because while I speak drugged-Ligie, drugged-texting-Ligie is a little bit of a stretch. I have a feeling that had I given that to a barista, Barb would have got a half-caf-double-shot-three-pump-sugar-free-mocha-chip-latte. Hold the whip.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Having the Most Amusing Friends
The below is an excerpt from my poetry course, a little something I wrote concerning Walt Whitman's "O Captain! My Captain!"
"You'll need to color me a little green, as far as American history goes, I'm afraid, but I wonder if there's any importance to the fact that Whitman wrote this just after Lincoln died. Is it possible he's using the ship as a metaphor for all the good that Lincoln managed to bring to the country (remember, please, I don't know what I'm talking about!), and commenting on Lincoln now not being here to enjoy it? Perhaps it was related to slavery?
Actually, I just looked up a basic Abraham Lincoln biography, and it seems his grandfather was a Captain in the revolutionary militia, and shared the same name. I would imagine that's just a coincidence, but it still struck me as interesting. Under that biography, however, I noticed that the Civil War ended just 6 days before Lincoln was shot, and that definitely seems like it could be the subject of O Captain! My Captain."
A few moments later, in a conversation with my buddy Kris, the following transpired:
Me: i'm totally about to cheat...and post one of my old poems to the main threaded discussion
Kris: lol nice
Me: :D Cheater cheater purple people eater
Kris: LMFAO wow Lisa... making reference to Abe Lincoln and learning the purple people eater song all in ONE day, you might as well be a fucking American citizen.
Me: Well done, hon, you just made the blog!
"You'll need to color me a little green, as far as American history goes, I'm afraid, but I wonder if there's any importance to the fact that Whitman wrote this just after Lincoln died. Is it possible he's using the ship as a metaphor for all the good that Lincoln managed to bring to the country (remember, please, I don't know what I'm talking about!), and commenting on Lincoln now not being here to enjoy it? Perhaps it was related to slavery?
Actually, I just looked up a basic Abraham Lincoln biography, and it seems his grandfather was a Captain in the revolutionary militia, and shared the same name. I would imagine that's just a coincidence, but it still struck me as interesting. Under that biography, however, I noticed that the Civil War ended just 6 days before Lincoln was shot, and that definitely seems like it could be the subject of O Captain! My Captain."
A few moments later, in a conversation with my buddy Kris, the following transpired:
Me: i'm totally about to cheat...and post one of my old poems to the main threaded discussion
Kris: lol nice
Me: :D Cheater cheater purple people eater
Kris: LMFAO wow Lisa... making reference to Abe Lincoln and learning the purple people eater song all in ONE day, you might as well be a fucking American citizen.
Me: Well done, hon, you just made the blog!
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Pillow Talk
Welcome to another edition of "Pillow Talk".
Lisa: In last night's dream, there were cellos, rug snakes and kittens.
Me: Rug Snakes? WTF is a rug snake?
Lisa: I don't remember, but the rug snakes killed the kittens. Then my Dad was playing the violin while naked.
Me: Ok, I'm going to vomit.
Seriously - How can I still love her? Some people pay very good money for mind trips that she takes naturally every night. Other people end up in Trenton State Hosp. trying to stop these same trips. lol
Lisa: In last night's dream, there were cellos, rug snakes and kittens.
Me: Rug Snakes? WTF is a rug snake?
Lisa: I don't remember, but the rug snakes killed the kittens. Then my Dad was playing the violin while naked.
Me: Ok, I'm going to vomit.
Seriously - How can I still love her? Some people pay very good money for mind trips that she takes naturally every night. Other people end up in Trenton State Hosp. trying to stop these same trips. lol
Friday, August 22, 2008
On Why Humanity Is Destined To Fail
The following scene took place outside my house this morning. I was granted the glory of seeing this because they were not using 'inside voices' and the commotion caused me to peer out of my window. Who needs Springer or Judge Judy when you live in central Jersey?
Obese Child #1: (loud whine) We have to find him! (Whips a leash around his head as if it were a lasso)
Obese Child #2: (Dressed In Wife Beater, White Jean Shorts, and Slippers) Why'd you take him off the string?
OC#1: I told you I had to pee! Not my fault. Why didn't you catch 'im?
They stop walking in front of the house and I am riveted by the sheer drama
OC#2: Why didn't you?
Ooooooh! Burn!
OC#1: I had to pee, stupid. (OC#1 pushes OC#2)
OC#2: I can kill you easy.
OC#1: Can't. I can scream. Beside, my mom will yell at your dad.
Easy to see who the bitch of the pair is
OC#2: I don't care. I don't like you. You lost 'im. It's your fault. My dad'll hit you good.
OC#1: It wasn't my fault! Why didn't you get 'im?
OC#2: I couldn't. It's your fault, and my dad'll be mad at your mom. (kicks OC#1's leg)
OC#1: Stop it!
OC#2: Make me!
Scrapping fight ensues as a shady white car pulls up and a guy gets out dressed almost exactly as OC#2, but with high socks and short boots.
Man: Get in the car! Damn dog's got home but I had to come get your asses? What the hell are you doing out here? Playing with yourselves? (spits on the ground)
OC#2: Dad, it's his fault. I tried to find Joey, but I couldn't.
OC#1: He didn't try to find 'im! I did!
Smaller scuffle
Man: Both you boys are gonna get it if you're not in this car now!
Kids scurry in while trying to get smacks in at one another. The door shuts with a rusty screech sound and the man looks around the street, adjusts himself, lights a smoke and gets in and drives away.
I don't think I truly understand the magnitude of what happened outside, but that whole 'Nature vs. Nurture' argument was kind of playing out on my street.
Obese Child #1: (loud whine) We have to find him! (Whips a leash around his head as if it were a lasso)
Obese Child #2: (Dressed In Wife Beater, White Jean Shorts, and Slippers) Why'd you take him off the string?
OC#1: I told you I had to pee! Not my fault. Why didn't you catch 'im?
They stop walking in front of the house and I am riveted by the sheer drama
OC#2: Why didn't you?
Ooooooh! Burn!
OC#1: I had to pee, stupid. (OC#1 pushes OC#2)
OC#2: I can kill you easy.
OC#1: Can't. I can scream. Beside, my mom will yell at your dad.
Easy to see who the bitch of the pair is
OC#2: I don't care. I don't like you. You lost 'im. It's your fault. My dad'll hit you good.
OC#1: It wasn't my fault! Why didn't you get 'im?
OC#2: I couldn't. It's your fault, and my dad'll be mad at your mom. (kicks OC#1's leg)
OC#1: Stop it!
OC#2: Make me!
Scrapping fight ensues as a shady white car pulls up and a guy gets out dressed almost exactly as OC#2, but with high socks and short boots.
Man: Get in the car! Damn dog's got home but I had to come get your asses? What the hell are you doing out here? Playing with yourselves? (spits on the ground)
OC#2: Dad, it's his fault. I tried to find Joey, but I couldn't.
OC#1: He didn't try to find 'im! I did!
Smaller scuffle
Man: Both you boys are gonna get it if you're not in this car now!
Kids scurry in while trying to get smacks in at one another. The door shuts with a rusty screech sound and the man looks around the street, adjusts himself, lights a smoke and gets in and drives away.
I don't think I truly understand the magnitude of what happened outside, but that whole 'Nature vs. Nurture' argument was kind of playing out on my street.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Said In Front Of Me At Work
I swear I still think it was a hallucination...
Co-Worker 1: (out of nowhere and in reference to nothing) I LOVE nude beaches. Stumbling on those are great. I tried to get my wife to go to one, and she refuses.
Co-Worker 2: (Rolling eyes) Smith*, Shut up. I'm going to vomit from the thought of you at a nude beach.
Co-Worker 3: Smith LOVES to see the naked girls, doncha Smith? I'll bet he does! I'll bet he likes to see them, but not as much as Barbara does! (hysterical/maniacal laughter from her) Right? Am I right? Barbara LOVES to see those girls at a nude beach.
Me: (Slinking into my chair and wishing that a wild rabid hyena would tear into the room and devour this person on the spot) Can we NOT?!
Co-Worker 3: Not what?
Me: Can we NOT discuss or speculate on what I may or may not like in any realm of possibilities? I would rather not discuss mine or anyone else's preferences for anything non-work related in this environment.
Co-Worker 3: Really? Because I think I'd be interested in seeing those girls too. I mean, not that I'm, you know, like you - but just for the sake of curiosity.
Co-Worker 1: Oh, i don't know. A lot of those people on nude beaches don't have much of a right to walk around naked, if you know what I mean - Unattractive! (He then belches)
Me: Oh. My. God. This isn't real, right? Can we all shut up now? Am I even here? (I slap myself in the face)
Co-Worker 3: (as if I've said nothing in the past few moments) ...I mean, it's only natural and stuff. Are there those types of beaches around? Barbara must know...
(Slam of the door as I escape to the sanity of the locker room)
OMGWTFBBQ?
*names changed to protect the ignorant as well as myself from a doocing.
Co-Worker 1: (out of nowhere and in reference to nothing) I LOVE nude beaches. Stumbling on those are great. I tried to get my wife to go to one, and she refuses.
Co-Worker 2: (Rolling eyes) Smith*, Shut up. I'm going to vomit from the thought of you at a nude beach.
Co-Worker 3: Smith LOVES to see the naked girls, doncha Smith? I'll bet he does! I'll bet he likes to see them, but not as much as Barbara does! (hysterical/maniacal laughter from her) Right? Am I right? Barbara LOVES to see those girls at a nude beach.
Me: (Slinking into my chair and wishing that a wild rabid hyena would tear into the room and devour this person on the spot) Can we NOT?!
Co-Worker 3: Not what?
Me: Can we NOT discuss or speculate on what I may or may not like in any realm of possibilities? I would rather not discuss mine or anyone else's preferences for anything non-work related in this environment.
Co-Worker 3: Really? Because I think I'd be interested in seeing those girls too. I mean, not that I'm, you know, like you - but just for the sake of curiosity.
Co-Worker 1: Oh, i don't know. A lot of those people on nude beaches don't have much of a right to walk around naked, if you know what I mean - Unattractive! (He then belches)
Me: Oh. My. God. This isn't real, right? Can we all shut up now? Am I even here? (I slap myself in the face)
Co-Worker 3: (as if I've said nothing in the past few moments) ...I mean, it's only natural and stuff. Are there those types of beaches around? Barbara must know...
(Slam of the door as I escape to the sanity of the locker room)
OMGWTFBBQ?
*names changed to protect the ignorant as well as myself from a doocing.
Monday, August 18, 2008
An Email From My Sister
My sister sent this to me, and I had to share, since I took a language in school that is actually useful in my own daily life/work. She chose differently. Yay for the sub-standard schooling of our youth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Today I get an email from a former franchisee looking to open a new office, and I decide to jump on it.
GET THIS: He used to be in British Columbia (Canada); he moved to Les Houches (France) and asked me with his fancy French ways "would it be possible to start a franchise in the EU?"
So, I answer him back, "Absolument! Which states and counties are you interested in?"--because in my limited knowledge of French, EU stands for "Etas Unis" which is "United States" in English. So, I assume [erroneously] that he is moving back to the States and looking for opportunity HERE.
Anyway, the new sales manager politely informs me that EU actually stands for European Union, which after a little online research I found is made up of 27 countries which use the Euro as their currency: France, Ireland, Denmark, the UK, etc. are some of the bigger ones.
So, I have egg on my face.
THANK YOU VERY MUCH, MADEMOISELLE DUPUIS--I OBVIOUSLY HAVE NO USE FOR THE BEAUTIFUL BUT WORTHLESS FRENCH LANGUAGE APPLICATION IN REAL LIFE, WITH THE EXCEPTION OF BEING ABLE TO READ "LE PETIT PRINCE" IN FRENCH AND UNDERSTANDING THE STORY. OTHERWISE, IT IS ABSOLUTELY USELESS TO ME! MERDE!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Today I get an email from a former franchisee looking to open a new office, and I decide to jump on it.
GET THIS: He used to be in British Columbia (Canada); he moved to Les Houches (France) and asked me with his fancy French ways "would it be possible to start a franchise in the EU?"
So, I answer him back, "Absolument! Which states and counties are you interested in?"--because in my limited knowledge of French, EU stands for "Etas Unis" which is "United States" in English. So, I assume [erroneously] that he is moving back to the States and looking for opportunity HERE.
Anyway, the new sales manager politely informs me that EU actually stands for European Union, which after a little online research I found is made up of 27 countries which use the Euro as their currency: France, Ireland, Denmark, the UK, etc. are some of the bigger ones.
So, I have egg on my face.
THANK YOU VERY MUCH, MADEMOISELLE DUPUIS--I OBVIOUSLY HAVE NO USE FOR THE BEAUTIFUL BUT WORTHLESS FRENCH LANGUAGE APPLICATION IN REAL LIFE, WITH THE EXCEPTION OF BEING ABLE TO READ "LE PETIT PRINCE" IN FRENCH AND UNDERSTANDING THE STORY. OTHERWISE, IT IS ABSOLUTELY USELESS TO ME! MERDE!
Saturday, August 16, 2008
On Being Misheard
(A classroom, in a school, somewhere in America)
Indian Professor: Give me an example of data.
British Student: The price of a product.
Indian Professor: Bra support?!
British Student: ...No. That's definitely not what I said.
Indian Professor: Oh, you know, foreign accents can be so confusing.
Indian Professor: Give me an example of data.
British Student: The price of a product.
Indian Professor: Bra support?!
British Student: ...No. That's definitely not what I said.
Indian Professor: Oh, you know, foreign accents can be so confusing.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Grrrr. Arrrrrg.
I'm at my primary place of employment. I am angry. I am having a hard time not expressing this anger in ways that might:
A) Violate another person's right to (continued) life
B) Violate many laws and/or the Constitution
C) Violate common manners
or
D) Break a nail
So, instead, I searched Google images to find things to represent these feelings. I shall post them, so might join with me in working through these feelings. I am also going to set my iPod to play some of my most angry, violence-based music at inappropriate levels. This always helps to calm me down. Or clam me up. Either way, I'll be focused on things other than destroying another human being.
This is how I know I am failing at my Buddhist practice. I need more, uh, practice.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Overheard at Work
Tutor: What's the answer to B?
Student: 25.
Tutor: Really?
Student: Yes.
Tutor: Is that your final answer?
Student: Yes.
Tutor: Well then you're wrong.
< a pause >
Student: It's so hard to please you.
Student: 25.
Tutor: Really?
Student: Yes.
Tutor: Is that your final answer?
Student: Yes.
Tutor: Well then you're wrong.
< a pause >
Student: It's so hard to please you.
Employee Inequality
On Tuesday, my entire department at CFU received an email from our boss. Basically, it appears that other staff members around the University have been complaining about our use of the Employee Lounge.
Yes, you read that right.
These workers do not deem us worthy of having the same rights as them, and honestly are suffering from downright rudeness, not even verging on it. Yesterday, one of the women who works in the Admin office said to my friend (and co-worker), A: "You do know this is for employees only, right?"
A, bless her, left and spoke to the boss about it, and sometime I wish I had that restraint. If that had been me in that room, there'd have been pistols at dawn. "Yes, thank you, I am one. Just like you. With the same RIGHTS as you. Except, you get benefits. And a decent paycheck."
For some reason, the entire situation has just gotten my goat in a tizzy. I can't bear inequality of any kind, be it gender, sexual orientation, international, or even something as stupid as arguing over a place to eat. Now some of the people are arguing that it's a 'Faculty Lounge', even though it says 'Employee Lounge' in a sign on the door. And admins aren't faculty either, dumbass. But, I'm withholding my aggression, and have finally reached a point where I can blog about this without screaming. I'm not the most rational person, and I simply cannot tolerate anything I deem as disrespect. This falls under that umbrella for me.
So I keep going over there, putting my stuff in the fridge, sitting down drinking coffee, eating a sandwich, almost daring someone to say something. Come on, pussies, challenge me!
Yes, you read that right.
These workers do not deem us worthy of having the same rights as them, and honestly are suffering from downright rudeness, not even verging on it. Yesterday, one of the women who works in the Admin office said to my friend (and co-worker), A: "You do know this is for employees only, right?"
A, bless her, left and spoke to the boss about it, and sometime I wish I had that restraint. If that had been me in that room, there'd have been pistols at dawn. "Yes, thank you, I am one. Just like you. With the same RIGHTS as you. Except, you get benefits. And a decent paycheck."
For some reason, the entire situation has just gotten my goat in a tizzy. I can't bear inequality of any kind, be it gender, sexual orientation, international, or even something as stupid as arguing over a place to eat. Now some of the people are arguing that it's a 'Faculty Lounge', even though it says 'Employee Lounge' in a sign on the door. And admins aren't faculty either, dumbass. But, I'm withholding my aggression, and have finally reached a point where I can blog about this without screaming. I'm not the most rational person, and I simply cannot tolerate anything I deem as disrespect. This falls under that umbrella for me.
So I keep going over there, putting my stuff in the fridge, sitting down drinking coffee, eating a sandwich, almost daring someone to say something. Come on, pussies, challenge me!
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
On Coffee, Money, and Coffee Money
So, it's official. Let the mockery commence. I have been hired as an employee of a multi-million dollar beverage corporation. I shall be creating and dispensing fancy hot, cold, and very, very cold beverages to the masses. To again circumvent getting dooced, I will be calling said employment CoffeeLand. On first meet, I am loving my boss there. Very cool. He has a lot of the type A personality traits it takes to be a really good manager in this kind of business, but also a sense of humor like none I've seen in a boss. It'll be good, I think. We need the money, and I'm willing to do what it takes. maybe when Lisa graduates and is allowed full time work we won't be strapped to this extent and I can relax a little bit. For now, this is the way it is. No sense getting worked up. I'll just have a decaf.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Why you should always ask to whom you're speaking
I work in a small office at CFU, constantly filled with students and a ringing phone. As with most organizations, we have a specific protocol when answering said phone, and transferring it to the correct line if necessary. Anyway, long and short of it, this morning, 8:55am, it rings:
Me: Good morning, CFU, this is Lisa, can I help you?
Voice: Hi, Lisa, is the other Lisa around?
Me: (Certain that this is my boss' friend in another department) Absolutely, let me just transfer you.
Boss: Hello?
Me: Hi, Lisa, I have Marie on the line for you.
< end call on my part >
Cut to 5 minutes later...Boss comes out of her office.
Boss: You did say that was Marie, right?
Me: Yes. It wasn't?
Boss: No, that was Scott.
Oops.
Me: Good morning, CFU, this is Lisa, can I help you?
Voice: Hi, Lisa, is the other Lisa around?
Me: (Certain that this is my boss' friend in another department) Absolutely, let me just transfer you.
Boss: Hello?
Me: Hi, Lisa, I have Marie on the line for you.
< end call on my part >
Cut to 5 minutes later...Boss comes out of her office.
Boss: You did say that was Marie, right?
Me: Yes. It wasn't?
Boss: No, that was Scott.
Oops.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
On The Meat Man
I'm in the supermarket -
Me: I need to know which of these types of steaks are better for grilling. Y'know, the kind where people won't lose a tooth when trying to chew it or maybe mistake it for an old shoe.
Meat Guy: Well this and this are what you are looking for really. (points at 2 types) You want to stay away from these though, 'cause they are tougher. (points at others) I'd say your best bet price and cut would be this. (grabs a pack) You said this is for grilling, right?
Me: Yep.
Meat Guy: Oh? Trying to impress someone?
Me: Nope, just cooking at home.
Meat Guy: Awww sweet. You're home from college?
Me: No. I'm 34. Just cooking at home.
Meat Guy: (with the most annoyed look on his face - like I'm a pregnant teenager asking him where to find the condom isle) You're 34 and you have to ask what kind of meat to buy? (He then leaves disappears into the back "meat room" as I stand there with a package of meat and what's left of my dignity)
Me: I need to know which of these types of steaks are better for grilling. Y'know, the kind where people won't lose a tooth when trying to chew it or maybe mistake it for an old shoe.
Meat Guy: Well this and this are what you are looking for really. (points at 2 types) You want to stay away from these though, 'cause they are tougher. (points at others) I'd say your best bet price and cut would be this. (grabs a pack) You said this is for grilling, right?
Me: Yep.
Meat Guy: Oh? Trying to impress someone?
Me: Nope, just cooking at home.
Meat Guy: Awww sweet. You're home from college?
Me: No. I'm 34. Just cooking at home.
Meat Guy: (with the most annoyed look on his face - like I'm a pregnant teenager asking him where to find the condom isle) You're 34 and you have to ask what kind of meat to buy? (He then leaves disappears into the back "meat room" as I stand there with a package of meat and what's left of my dignity)
Friday, August 8, 2008
08-08-08 and Some Thoughts
While many people are celebrating the beginning of the Olympics today, my mind is firmly and gently focused on the events of the past that are interwoven parts of today's historical tapestry. While people are trying to wrestle with their consciences about watching or supporting the activities this year, I am trying to research and take more active steps toward passive activism for the communities affected.
What the hell am I talking about?
20 years ago there was this numerical history in the uprising in Burma. See 08/08/1988
Also, I have conflicted opinions about supporting a gathering meant to expand and celebrate the world coming together in the name of peace and sporting competition, celebrating differences and accepting each other. My conflict? It's being held in a land notorious for human rights violations. The continued oppression and attacks on Tibet being one of my biggest issues. Now i see news reports all over about how the Chinese government are denying and revoking the travel Visas for athletes who show any type of Pro-Tibetan or political opinion. Most recently, Speed skater Cheeky was denied his travel only days before he was to leave. The government has been quoted as saying that any type of demonstration of political views or protests would not be permitted and the people involved would be detained, prosecuted, or otherwise dealt with. Such a negative and ominous message is so disturbing. Also disturbing was the response of US President Bush when asked to address the issue with the Chinese government when he was there. He said something to the effect that he did not feel it was his duty to address these issues, and that he had made his opinions on human rights clear in our own country. how are we, as a country, supposed to be taken seriously as defenders of human rights when we war with some to "defend their human rights" and ignore some others' cries for help?
I'm just confused, I guess. I'm also at a loss about how to meditate on these issues when they make it so hard to focus - when things are so convoluted?
Just a few thoughts, IMHO.
What the hell am I talking about?
20 years ago there was this numerical history in the uprising in Burma. See 08/08/1988
Also, I have conflicted opinions about supporting a gathering meant to expand and celebrate the world coming together in the name of peace and sporting competition, celebrating differences and accepting each other. My conflict? It's being held in a land notorious for human rights violations. The continued oppression and attacks on Tibet being one of my biggest issues. Now i see news reports all over about how the Chinese government are denying and revoking the travel Visas for athletes who show any type of Pro-Tibetan or political opinion. Most recently, Speed skater Cheeky was denied his travel only days before he was to leave. The government has been quoted as saying that any type of demonstration of political views or protests would not be permitted and the people involved would be detained, prosecuted, or otherwise dealt with. Such a negative and ominous message is so disturbing. Also disturbing was the response of US President Bush when asked to address the issue with the Chinese government when he was there. He said something to the effect that he did not feel it was his duty to address these issues, and that he had made his opinions on human rights clear in our own country. how are we, as a country, supposed to be taken seriously as defenders of human rights when we war with some to "defend their human rights" and ignore some others' cries for help?
I'm just confused, I guess. I'm also at a loss about how to meditate on these issues when they make it so hard to focus - when things are so convoluted?
Just a few thoughts, IMHO.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
With All Due Respect
To a certain famous Hollywood actress...
---Disclaimer: this really isn't as perverted a video as it sounds---
---Disclaimer of the Disclaimer. I'm also not Holly Hunter.
---Disclaimer: this really isn't as perverted a video as it sounds---
---Disclaimer of the Disclaimer. I'm also not Holly Hunter.
Monday, August 4, 2008
More LisaBiology 101
While still laughing heartily at the picture in my head from Lisa's assessment of what biological forces create the human ear, I almost had an aneurysm.
Lisa: (on how ears developed)... and over time, the sun made the skin stuff dry and shrivel up and get crispy crinkly. Like bacon. Bacony Goodness. (she seems convinced and pleased - both options frighten me)
Me: Like bacon? Like a Pig's Ear?
Lisa: Yeah! Like the Pig Ear toy you give to a dog. We used to give them to Becky and Murphy all the time.
Me: Um, That's not LIKE bacon. It kinda IS bacon.
Lisa: No, they are just pasta. Lasagna sheet type pasta.
Me: What the hell are you talking about? It's a pig ear.
Lisa: Not, not a real pig ear.
Me: Yes... pig. ear. (I oink at this point, not sure if she's kidding)
Lisa: (in a high pitched and horrified tone and matching face) That's awful!! (waits about 3 seconds) But it does explain why they loved those things. Are you sure?
I feel like I keep shattering her really sweet illusions, but I can't stop. It's too damned good.
Lisa: (on how ears developed)... and over time, the sun made the skin stuff dry and shrivel up and get crispy crinkly. Like bacon. Bacony Goodness. (she seems convinced and pleased - both options frighten me)
Me: Like bacon? Like a Pig's Ear?
Lisa: Yeah! Like the Pig Ear toy you give to a dog. We used to give them to Becky and Murphy all the time.
Me: Um, That's not LIKE bacon. It kinda IS bacon.
Lisa: No, they are just pasta. Lasagna sheet type pasta.
Me: What the hell are you talking about? It's a pig ear.
Lisa: Not, not a real pig ear.
Me: Yes... pig. ear. (I oink at this point, not sure if she's kidding)
Lisa: (in a high pitched and horrified tone and matching face) That's awful!! (waits about 3 seconds) But it does explain why they loved those things. Are you sure?
I feel like I keep shattering her really sweet illusions, but I can't stop. It's too damned good.
Because That Makes Sense...
On the drive home from a well-deserved Starbucks Decaf Nonfat Caramel Macchiato with an extra pump of sugar-free vanilla syrup for me and a Mint Mocha Chip Lite Frappuchino with no whipped cream (minus the chips due to an apparent counter-wide shortage) Lisa explained her day to me. Rather, she waited patiently for me to finish my rantings about mine before she could get a word in. Today was just one of those Mondays when you wake up, get through your day and realize that it would have been a better day all around if you had only been apprehended by a savage band of spider monkeys who tied you to a cactus and forced you to listen to Amy Winehouse podcast interviews and bite your toenails to an uneven length. It was just that bad.
So, Lisa works at Completely Fake University, henceforth to be known as CFU or FU for short - so as not to "Dooce" ourselves. It is there where she slaves the labour of love to educate select members of the masses. She also attends some classes from time to time as well. She is often requested by professors to tutor other students in the highest levels of certain types of classes, even when she has never taken that subject. As this happens often, she has had to "crash and learn" many things via a book and Google search, and as a result is kind of disgustingly smart.
Today she had to tutor one such case and got through the session helping the person and learning the subject as well. I queried why no one else could tutor, and she said that no one other than the professors knows the material. Well, the same went for her, except she put in the hour of study and mastered it. I guess that's the kind of gal she is. Well, by the time she was summing up the day, she said there was a person she couldn't help. The rest was this.
Me: Why couldn't you help them?
Lisa: Because I'm taking that particular class, and they have a rule at CFU that says you cannot tutor someone if you are currently studying that subject.
Me: Oh, but it's fine to tutor someone in something you've never even heard of?
Lisa: Apparently.
So, Lisa works at Completely Fake University, henceforth to be known as CFU or FU for short - so as not to "Dooce" ourselves. It is there where she slaves the labour of love to educate select members of the masses. She also attends some classes from time to time as well. She is often requested by professors to tutor other students in the highest levels of certain types of classes, even when she has never taken that subject. As this happens often, she has had to "crash and learn" many things via a book and Google search, and as a result is kind of disgustingly smart.
Today she had to tutor one such case and got through the session helping the person and learning the subject as well. I queried why no one else could tutor, and she said that no one other than the professors knows the material. Well, the same went for her, except she put in the hour of study and mastered it. I guess that's the kind of gal she is. Well, by the time she was summing up the day, she said there was a person she couldn't help. The rest was this.
Me: Why couldn't you help them?
Lisa: Because I'm taking that particular class, and they have a rule at CFU that says you cannot tutor someone if you are currently studying that subject.
Me: Oh, but it's fine to tutor someone in something you've never even heard of?
Lisa: Apparently.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Grooming
There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just come out with it. I discovered Windows Movie Maker this afternoon. Yes, it's not the most advanced of software, but heck, it does exactly what I need it to right now.
So, here's a little video we took this morning. Now I'm committed to learning more about this, expect more videos to come!
I did a little research into why Alice does this, and apparently it's something to do with the very first memory that cats have being of their mother, grooming them. So they see it as the sign of utmost love, to groom another. I just thought it was her non-so-subtle way of telling me I was filthy.
Yes, I really will do anything to avoid my project management homework.
So, here's a little video we took this morning. Now I'm committed to learning more about this, expect more videos to come!
I did a little research into why Alice does this, and apparently it's something to do with the very first memory that cats have being of their mother, grooming them. So they see it as the sign of utmost love, to groom another. I just thought it was her non-so-subtle way of telling me I was filthy.
Yes, I really will do anything to avoid my project management homework.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Pillow Talk - 1st Installment
Welcome to the newest feature of She². Here, I'll be posting the highlights of the bizarre communication Lisa and I share as the haze of sleep descends upon us. I have taken to keeping paper and pen at the bedside to capture some of these gems, because if I have to suffer through them, so should you.
Lisa is a brilliant woman. I admit that. However - she is completely inept when it comes to any subject involving the human body and it's inner workings. We've adopted a term for it - Lisabiology. The following is an exchange involving the subject from the other night:
Lisa: You know, I always thought the bone system and the muscles were two independent things, you know, like not connected, because the pictures in the books show one skeleton standing there, and one set of muscles standing there, so I figured the muscles just kinda slipped on over the bones or something. Then it's all held in by the skin coating.
Me: You're kidding, right? They are interconnected and movement involves both, and the connections of tendons, ligaments, and bones and muscles. The skin is a covering, but it is connective tissue as well.
Lisa: Oh yeah, that EndoMuscle System?
Me: (incredulous) No, the Musculoskeletal System.
Lisa: Well, not the ears.
Me: Yes, the ears too!
Lisa: No, I always figured that the ears were just funny pieces of skin that dried up in the sun and got crispy and crinkly.
Me: Oh. My. God. You are insane. Go to sleep.
Lisa: That isn't right?
Lisa is a brilliant woman. I admit that. However - she is completely inept when it comes to any subject involving the human body and it's inner workings. We've adopted a term for it - Lisabiology. The following is an exchange involving the subject from the other night:
Lisa: You know, I always thought the bone system and the muscles were two independent things, you know, like not connected, because the pictures in the books show one skeleton standing there, and one set of muscles standing there, so I figured the muscles just kinda slipped on over the bones or something. Then it's all held in by the skin coating.
Me: You're kidding, right? They are interconnected and movement involves both, and the connections of tendons, ligaments, and bones and muscles. The skin is a covering, but it is connective tissue as well.
Lisa: Oh yeah, that EndoMuscle System?
Me: (incredulous) No, the Musculoskeletal System.
Lisa: Well, not the ears.
Me: Yes, the ears too!
Lisa: No, I always figured that the ears were just funny pieces of skin that dried up in the sun and got crispy and crinkly.
Me: Oh. My. God. You are insane. Go to sleep.
Lisa: That isn't right?
On School and Excuses
I have had almost no time to devote to this blog since going back to school. I’d love to say it was out of sheer laziness, but I’ve actually been working really hard. I’m taking three classes right now that’ll be ending in four weeks. Then I start another two for the following eight weeks. It’s hectic, but honestly, I’m loving being back at school. Every day except for Wednesday, I get to hang out with my friends. And get paid for it. And get the opportunity to work hard on our schoolwork while we chat. It’s great, and oddly enough I missed it during my semester off. That said, if I hadn’t taken the semester off, I wouldn’t have appreciated it as much. It was definitely the right choice for my mental health!
Next Thursday I am going to an Oracle conference in New York City. I’m really excited about it, because it’s the big boys. The real deal. And I get to meet them, and converse, and learn from them. It’s going to be awesome. Plus, it’s in The City, and we all know how MUCH I hate NYC...
I’ve just put in my schedule for Session B to work, and all being well, I’ll cram my 19 hours into Tuesday and Thursday, with a couple on Wednesday afternoon. That’ll be nice, if I manage to pull it off.
In other news, we got a new fridge! OMG. We’re officially adults. And boring adults, at that, for getting excited over a new fridge (that we got at a bargain price, because of its tiny, unnoticeable dent!) Here’s the beautiful beast, in all his glory:
I think Alice is scared of it. But less so than the vacuum. I promise soon there will be exciting posts to come!
Next Thursday I am going to an Oracle conference in New York City. I’m really excited about it, because it’s the big boys. The real deal. And I get to meet them, and converse, and learn from them. It’s going to be awesome. Plus, it’s in The City, and we all know how MUCH I hate NYC...
I’ve just put in my schedule for Session B to work, and all being well, I’ll cram my 19 hours into Tuesday and Thursday, with a couple on Wednesday afternoon. That’ll be nice, if I manage to pull it off.
In other news, we got a new fridge! OMG. We’re officially adults. And boring adults, at that, for getting excited over a new fridge (that we got at a bargain price, because of its tiny, unnoticeable dent!) Here’s the beautiful beast, in all his glory:
I think Alice is scared of it. But less so than the vacuum. I promise soon there will be exciting posts to come!
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