*Attention, SAT word inventors: the English language is sorely lacking a word that means "a song stuck in my head." Please get cracking on it. Thank you. Also, this post apparently is leaning heavily on parenthetical asides, which I generally find disruptive to the flow of prose but was unable to lay off of tonight. My apologies.
It is now time to get back to one of the grandest, least commented upon traditions on this blog: overanalyzing pop music. I'm not entirely sure what drives me to obsessively hone in on every tiny little element I like and don't like in music, but it's there, it's not going away, so I just accept it and deal.
The result of this obsession and my unwillingness to fight it is that I am particularly vulnerable to song-stuck-in-headedness (again, need a nice, tight vocab word to express this phrase more naturally. The College Board, this is where you can give back after taking so, so much.) As I have so much experience with the phenomenon, I am working on a taxonomy of songs stuck in the head. It is still a work in progress, but I thought I'd give you a few archetypes I have experienced lately:
1. Songs you'd rather not admit you know all the words to: Singing, humming, bobbing, or mild dancing is never acceptable in public and already subjects the person to more than their fair share of public scorn. "Look at that rube," the public thinks, "singing and dancing and humming as if he enjoys music. Who enjoys music these days? What's up with that?" I generally find this baffling and chalk it up to people's primal urge to destroy anyone that they perceive might be having more fun than them (see also: war on drugs, war on sex, and basically wars in general). This public scorn is and should be intensified if the person is mouthing all of the words to "Always" by Erasure, for example. This is the most dreaded type of song to get stuck in your head.
2. Songs you only know the chorus to or songs with very few lyrics: Another deadly category, this applies mostly to catchy songs with choruses that are repeated a zillion times in its 3 minute duration, leaving you with only enough to repeat a tiny song fragment periodically for all of eternity, or at least the afternoon. It's the aural equivalent of Chinese Water Torture. It's annoying for the person with it stuck in their head, but truly pity their poor, poor coworkers who have to spend every second of the 30 minute van ride listening to them sing the chorus to "Private Eyes" or "Turn to Stone" endlessly. "I Got My Mind Set On You" fits the bill as well.
3. Songs with no words at all: "Walk, Don't Run" and "Classical Gas" just aren't the same when they're whistled.
4. Songs no one else has ever heard of: "It's 'Cruel To Be Kind.'" "No, Nick Lowe." "Sometime in the early seventies, I think." "Yes, I'm aware you weren't born then; I wasn't either, but I still know it." "Seriously, what is weird about this? It was a hit song. It plays on the radio. It's pop culture. I shouldn't have to explain any of this."
5. Songs that you cannot sing out loud in public: Either the lyrics are incredibly offensive or completely gender inappropriate. This happened to me today. On the way to a department wide meeting, the insidious bastards at G101.3 decided to play "Hips Don't Lie." I know enough of it to sing through a bit, but something is lost when I sing Shakira's part, and I'm reasonably sure that directing any of my coworkers to keep on reading the signs of my body is a recipe for all kinds of trouble. This category also applies to Christmas songs when it isn't Christmas season.
Showing posts with label Bulleted Lists. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bulleted Lists. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Monday, August 15, 2011
Brave New Blogger
Today in a comment, Liz mentioned that it was great to have me back in the blogging community. Unfortunately, she spoke too soon, for I'm afraid a lot has changed in the past 4 years or so. I am no longer the carefree, optimistic, and endearingly self-absorbed goofball I was in 2007 or whenever it was this blog used to be updated. No, no, this is not a return to my former whimsical glory; rather, it is a gritty, tortured reboot of the blog, sharing (for now) only the silly name in common with its predecessor, like the blogosphere's version of Funky Winkerbean.
You see, deep dark themes are taking over. For example, back in 2007, I was relatively convinced that if politicians I liked and supported could only get elected somehow, then maybe our country's rapid descent into hell could be reversed, or at least somewhat slowed. Now, I'm faced with the fact that we have a president who I voted for twice, who went to every length on the campaign trail to prove that he cared about issues I care about, and who has gone on to continue virtually every bad idea I voted for him to change. I can only assume this was by design, and that I actually live in a one-party police state whose main priorities involve transferring wealth from the poor to the rich and providing all of the deltas with enough soma to keep them from storming the gates. Somehow this involves baseless acts of aggression against countries who have oil; the basic calculus of the plot is unfortunately beyond my grasp.
Next, I had ingenious plots once upon a time. When I started at the state hospital, I had a bold vision, a master plan. At the time, there were big rumors about the hospital privatizing, which had everyone living in a state of fear and anxiety except for me. I figured if the hospital privatized, people would leave, there would be more positions open that required 4 year degrees, and since I was one of the few people who had one, and I already had a foot in the door, I'd be first in line. Well, the hospital never privatized, but my general plan to get a foot in the door and step into the first opening that appeared eventually proved fruitful, albeit I had to get my foot in a few more doors before it happened. Now, I have a rather enjoyable job, which compensates me fairly; my youthful optimism has since morphed into garden variety middle-class ennui. Which, obviously, is much less fun to write about, and even less fun to read about, which is why this paragraph is ending right now.
Moving on, I'm not even youthful anymore. Now, I have always been old for my age, as my extensive collection of board games and earlier comment about a newspaper soap opera comic can attest, but now my age is actually catching up with my oldness. I soon will no longer be in the "hip kid in his twenties" demographic and will be moving into the "trying too hard guy in his thirties" demographic. While I don't mind being the butt of jokes, I generally prefer that the jokes in question be mine.
So with no further ado, the management will announce the following changes to the blog:
1. We will now refer to ourselves in the plural, like royalty. We will also occasionally refer to ourselves in the third person as "the management." We feel this pompous tone gives us that extra gravitas that such a serious endeavor as this blog should command.
2. We shall be changing the title of the blog from "The Ballpoint Banana" to rid ourselves of the blog's connection to the insipid and frivolous Batman: The Movie from 1966. The new title of the blog shall be "Why So Serious?" which we are told is from the second installment of the very dark and gritty critically-acclaimed reboot of the Batman franchise.
3. The color scheme shall be changed, hopefully to something involving black, silver, and red, to further illustrate how mature and serious the blog is.
4. "Monday Morning YouTube" will be replaced with "Monday Morning Leonard Cohen Lyrics."
5. The management will no longer chronicle their sartorial selections, as the new dress code of the blog will consist of black turtlenecks and only black turtlenecks.
6. All readers and commenters shall be addressed in the most condescending and dismissive manner possible, as none of you can possibly grasp the seriousness of all this seriousness.
So, we hope you "enjoy" our new format, although we suspect most of the readers will be put out, as most would prefer to live in their deluded, sheltered state rather than stare deeply into the face of the cruel, cold world in which we live.
You see, deep dark themes are taking over. For example, back in 2007, I was relatively convinced that if politicians I liked and supported could only get elected somehow, then maybe our country's rapid descent into hell could be reversed, or at least somewhat slowed. Now, I'm faced with the fact that we have a president who I voted for twice, who went to every length on the campaign trail to prove that he cared about issues I care about, and who has gone on to continue virtually every bad idea I voted for him to change. I can only assume this was by design, and that I actually live in a one-party police state whose main priorities involve transferring wealth from the poor to the rich and providing all of the deltas with enough soma to keep them from storming the gates. Somehow this involves baseless acts of aggression against countries who have oil; the basic calculus of the plot is unfortunately beyond my grasp.
Next, I had ingenious plots once upon a time. When I started at the state hospital, I had a bold vision, a master plan. At the time, there were big rumors about the hospital privatizing, which had everyone living in a state of fear and anxiety except for me. I figured if the hospital privatized, people would leave, there would be more positions open that required 4 year degrees, and since I was one of the few people who had one, and I already had a foot in the door, I'd be first in line. Well, the hospital never privatized, but my general plan to get a foot in the door and step into the first opening that appeared eventually proved fruitful, albeit I had to get my foot in a few more doors before it happened. Now, I have a rather enjoyable job, which compensates me fairly; my youthful optimism has since morphed into garden variety middle-class ennui. Which, obviously, is much less fun to write about, and even less fun to read about, which is why this paragraph is ending right now.
Moving on, I'm not even youthful anymore. Now, I have always been old for my age, as my extensive collection of board games and earlier comment about a newspaper soap opera comic can attest, but now my age is actually catching up with my oldness. I soon will no longer be in the "hip kid in his twenties" demographic and will be moving into the "trying too hard guy in his thirties" demographic. While I don't mind being the butt of jokes, I generally prefer that the jokes in question be mine.
So with no further ado, the management will announce the following changes to the blog:
1. We will now refer to ourselves in the plural, like royalty. We will also occasionally refer to ourselves in the third person as "the management." We feel this pompous tone gives us that extra gravitas that such a serious endeavor as this blog should command.
2. We shall be changing the title of the blog from "The Ballpoint Banana" to rid ourselves of the blog's connection to the insipid and frivolous Batman: The Movie from 1966. The new title of the blog shall be "Why So Serious?" which we are told is from the second installment of the very dark and gritty critically-acclaimed reboot of the Batman franchise.
3. The color scheme shall be changed, hopefully to something involving black, silver, and red, to further illustrate how mature and serious the blog is.
4. "Monday Morning YouTube" will be replaced with "Monday Morning Leonard Cohen Lyrics."
5. The management will no longer chronicle their sartorial selections, as the new dress code of the blog will consist of black turtlenecks and only black turtlenecks.
6. All readers and commenters shall be addressed in the most condescending and dismissive manner possible, as none of you can possibly grasp the seriousness of all this seriousness.
So, we hope you "enjoy" our new format, although we suspect most of the readers will be put out, as most would prefer to live in their deluded, sheltered state rather than stare deeply into the face of the cruel, cold world in which we live.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Bullets of Filler Material
Blogging is hard, and I remember now how much I suck at it. Until something sufficiently wacky and interesting happens, we resort to the dreaded bulleted list.
Bullet No. 1: I took my car to my mechanic to get my tire patched and plugged. He took one look at the pathetic, treadless slab of rubber I dragged in, had pity on me, and informed me that the tire was not worth the $15 I was about to put into it. I explained that I didn't have any money for a full set and just needed something to get me a drivable vehicle again. After inspecting my car and his used tire selection, he found two almost but not quite as bad used tires and discovered that my high quality rear tires could be rotated to the front while his used tires could work fine in the back, and then did it all for $30, cutting me a nice deal because "You've thrown a lot of business my way," which is a nice way of saying "Thank you for driving shitty death traps." So a big shout out and thank you to my friends at Ronan's in Richmond.
Bullet No. 2: I just walked to the VP down the block and purchased a Powerball ticket and a $3 bottle of clearanced wine (Gallo Family Vineyards Chardonnay). Convenience store professionals refer to this combo as "The Cry For Help."
Bullet No. 3: My other ancient car, the 1990 Plymouth Horizon, also has a flat tire from the alley debris from the idiot across the alley. Unfortunately, due to the advanced state of rust on the lugnuts, I am unable to change it myself. "But Andy," you say, "just loosen the lugnuts before you jack it up." Oh, I tried. It turns out, all evidence to the contrary, I am actually strong enough to lift the car off the ground and spin the tire before the lugnuts will loosen. On the plus side, this means I can probably carry the car to the mechanic with relative ease.
Bullet No. 4: If this clearanced wine is at all drinkable, every one of siblings is getting a bottle for Christmas.
Bullet No. 5: Blogger's examples of post labels, known as "tags" to people who actually speak Internet, are "scooters, vacation, fall." I'm going on record right now by saying that taking a scooter vacation in the fall would be a ton of fun. Unless by "fall" they mean "falling off the scooter." That would be less fun.
Bullet No. 6: Speaking of scooters, I went running the other day. I ran by a group of people congregating outside of a garage. One of them yelled, "There goes killer! Watch out, don't fall!" at me, I assume, as there were no other people on the street. I was utterly confused until I saw that he rode in on a scooter, and thus was probably intoxicated. I should refer him to the VP, or better yet, trade him a case of my clearance wine for his scooter.
Bullet No. 7: The VP also has Mad Dog 20/20 on clearance. Dad will be getting one of those.
Bullet No. 1: I took my car to my mechanic to get my tire patched and plugged. He took one look at the pathetic, treadless slab of rubber I dragged in, had pity on me, and informed me that the tire was not worth the $15 I was about to put into it. I explained that I didn't have any money for a full set and just needed something to get me a drivable vehicle again. After inspecting my car and his used tire selection, he found two almost but not quite as bad used tires and discovered that my high quality rear tires could be rotated to the front while his used tires could work fine in the back, and then did it all for $30, cutting me a nice deal because "You've thrown a lot of business my way," which is a nice way of saying "Thank you for driving shitty death traps." So a big shout out and thank you to my friends at Ronan's in Richmond.
Bullet No. 2: I just walked to the VP down the block and purchased a Powerball ticket and a $3 bottle of clearanced wine (Gallo Family Vineyards Chardonnay). Convenience store professionals refer to this combo as "The Cry For Help."
Bullet No. 3: My other ancient car, the 1990 Plymouth Horizon, also has a flat tire from the alley debris from the idiot across the alley. Unfortunately, due to the advanced state of rust on the lugnuts, I am unable to change it myself. "But Andy," you say, "just loosen the lugnuts before you jack it up." Oh, I tried. It turns out, all evidence to the contrary, I am actually strong enough to lift the car off the ground and spin the tire before the lugnuts will loosen. On the plus side, this means I can probably carry the car to the mechanic with relative ease.
Bullet No. 4: If this clearanced wine is at all drinkable, every one of siblings is getting a bottle for Christmas.
Bullet No. 5: Blogger's examples of post labels, known as "tags" to people who actually speak Internet, are "scooters, vacation, fall." I'm going on record right now by saying that taking a scooter vacation in the fall would be a ton of fun. Unless by "fall" they mean "falling off the scooter." That would be less fun.
Bullet No. 6: Speaking of scooters, I went running the other day. I ran by a group of people congregating outside of a garage. One of them yelled, "There goes killer! Watch out, don't fall!" at me, I assume, as there were no other people on the street. I was utterly confused until I saw that he rode in on a scooter, and thus was probably intoxicated. I should refer him to the VP, or better yet, trade him a case of my clearance wine for his scooter.
Bullet No. 7: The VP also has Mad Dog 20/20 on clearance. Dad will be getting one of those.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Time to Play Catch-Up
I've got a lot of things to talk about here, so let's get to the bullets:
1. Dick Clark. I watched a rerun of $100,000 Pyramid on GSN the other night, during which Dick Clark took a good 90 seconds to try to figure out how the contestant and celebrity partner whose turn just finished could've gotten the word "Mango." He involved the judges and everything on what would be and would not be allowed to be said as clues. Sure, Dick Clark most assuredly enjoyed hosting the show, but you can tell just by watching it that he really, really wanted to be a celebrity contestant. He thus went through life cursed with seeing the thing he wanted most every day but couldn't get it. Quite sad, really.
2. Peanut butter crackers. You know those peanut butter on cheese crackers sandwiches? The bright orange kind? Who thought of those? How did he do it? Was he sitting around one day, eating a peanut butter sandwich and suddenly think, "You know what would taste good on this? A piece of cheese," at which point snack conventions as we knew them changed forever? Cheese and peanut butter. How? It boggles my feeble little mind.
3. Monopoly. I lost to Kelli. Badly. It was a rout. She was making trades with me out of pity. My mojo is gone. Notice how I bury this halfway down the post. Moving on.
4. Money. I have none. Lots of student loans came due, and so now I have to look at a career change or going to school again. It sorta sucks because I enjoy what I do and I am very good at it. Lucky I also have...
5. Cheap sources of entertainment! Such as 8 year old video game consoles, 6 year old games, board games found at Goodwill for $2, and blogging. Of course blogging. Lately we've even had a few friends to enjoy these things with us, so all in all, I'd say things will be ok.
1. Dick Clark. I watched a rerun of $100,000 Pyramid on GSN the other night, during which Dick Clark took a good 90 seconds to try to figure out how the contestant and celebrity partner whose turn just finished could've gotten the word "Mango." He involved the judges and everything on what would be and would not be allowed to be said as clues. Sure, Dick Clark most assuredly enjoyed hosting the show, but you can tell just by watching it that he really, really wanted to be a celebrity contestant. He thus went through life cursed with seeing the thing he wanted most every day but couldn't get it. Quite sad, really.
2. Peanut butter crackers. You know those peanut butter on cheese crackers sandwiches? The bright orange kind? Who thought of those? How did he do it? Was he sitting around one day, eating a peanut butter sandwich and suddenly think, "You know what would taste good on this? A piece of cheese," at which point snack conventions as we knew them changed forever? Cheese and peanut butter. How? It boggles my feeble little mind.
3. Monopoly. I lost to Kelli. Badly. It was a rout. She was making trades with me out of pity. My mojo is gone. Notice how I bury this halfway down the post. Moving on.
4. Money. I have none. Lots of student loans came due, and so now I have to look at a career change or going to school again. It sorta sucks because I enjoy what I do and I am very good at it. Lucky I also have...
5. Cheap sources of entertainment! Such as 8 year old video game consoles, 6 year old games, board games found at Goodwill for $2, and blogging. Of course blogging. Lately we've even had a few friends to enjoy these things with us, so all in all, I'd say things will be ok.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Bullets Within Bullets
1. Chicks have lots of stuff, as it turns out. My apartment is now part warehouse.
2. I have lots of boardgames. I went to Goodwill today to drop off some furniture and look for shelves to put my board games on. I succeeded in buying more board games.
3. But they were really, really cheap! C'mon. I had to.
4. I then went to Wal-Mart and bought shelves because I didn't feel like driving all the way across town to Meijer. Also, I'm unsure of what selection Meijer has in furniture.
5. I haven't even gotten around to clothing, cd, and book sorting yet.
6. But, let's kill the suspense and get to the question everyone has surely been contemplating for over a week now: How awesome is Kelli? Let's go over the checklist:
A. Not too impressed with The Tick. This, of course, is a terrible start to any awesomeness checklist, but it's not a dealbreaker yet. As it turns out, she's never been a big fantasy/sci-fi/comic person, so a lot of the humor may be lost on her. I don't know.
B. Loves board games. This is a big one. I've already hooked her on Backgammon, played a couple other strategic two player games like Mancala (ok, but overrated in both of our estimations), and Roundabouts, which is fun and exciting. She has yet to beat me at any of these, but I'm sure her day will come. We've also played games with friends, such as Trivial Pursuit, Life, and a trivia game I bought for five bucks called Mental Floss. She tends to be good at Life, even though it always appeared to me as the sort of game you couldn't actually be good at. She's not a fan of Monopoly on accounta it takes too long, and she's never played Risk, so there's room for improvement on this front too, but this just means we're at Severely Awesome levels with the potential for Completely Awesome levels in the future.
C. Plays a quality game of Euchre. Also important, as mocking my brother-in-laws after shellacking them at Euchre every year is a tradition I don't plan on breaking.
D. Understands most of my allusions. I don't feel like I have to throttle down my intelligence when I talk to her, and she catches most of my references. If she doesn't, then I can just explain it without anyone feeling inadequate. Plus, she talks all smart and shit too, and makes references I don't understand frequently. It works.
E. Loves movies, but does not share my quest to see all the best pictures. This is because, like me, she is resistant to seeing really really long movies. I keep telling her that I always thought the same thing but I keep loving these movies I thought I wouldn't, but she hasn't budged yet. Instead, we each pick out a movie from the 2/$1 section of Family Video, either something we think the other one will like, or something we've always wanted to see.
F. Loved Gil Thorp and Judge Parker from the moment she saw them. The fact that she instantly saw the vast potential for humor in the soap opera strips negates the lack of love for The Tick, I think.
So, she's passing the awesome quotient so far.
8. Where was I? Oh, speaking of Judge Parker, why are we bouncing around from story to story here? We go from Sam's new law partner search/sandwich order to Legless Steve getting threats from the Taliban to Abbey Spencer wandering around the abandoned Dickens compound. C'mon, Judge Parker, it takes you 8 months to wrap up one storyline; you cannot handle three at a time. And speaking of the Dickens, am I supposed to believe that the kindly elderly woman who gives pot brownies to her neighbors while her loony husband buzzes around in his biplane all day is the villain of this story? On the plus side, this is better than having absentee Taliban villains, and I can now refer to her as Evil Elvira and her Brownies of Doom. Also, since practically nothing bad ever happens to the villains in this strip outside of the Paris punks, I suppose there is no cause for concern.
9. I take my soap opera comics very seriously.
2. I have lots of boardgames. I went to Goodwill today to drop off some furniture and look for shelves to put my board games on. I succeeded in buying more board games.
3. But they were really, really cheap! C'mon. I had to.
4. I then went to Wal-Mart and bought shelves because I didn't feel like driving all the way across town to Meijer. Also, I'm unsure of what selection Meijer has in furniture.
5. I haven't even gotten around to clothing, cd, and book sorting yet.
6. But, let's kill the suspense and get to the question everyone has surely been contemplating for over a week now: How awesome is Kelli? Let's go over the checklist:
A. Not too impressed with The Tick. This, of course, is a terrible start to any awesomeness checklist, but it's not a dealbreaker yet. As it turns out, she's never been a big fantasy/sci-fi/comic person, so a lot of the humor may be lost on her. I don't know.
B. Loves board games. This is a big one. I've already hooked her on Backgammon, played a couple other strategic two player games like Mancala (ok, but overrated in both of our estimations), and Roundabouts, which is fun and exciting. She has yet to beat me at any of these, but I'm sure her day will come. We've also played games with friends, such as Trivial Pursuit, Life, and a trivia game I bought for five bucks called Mental Floss. She tends to be good at Life, even though it always appeared to me as the sort of game you couldn't actually be good at. She's not a fan of Monopoly on accounta it takes too long, and she's never played Risk, so there's room for improvement on this front too, but this just means we're at Severely Awesome levels with the potential for Completely Awesome levels in the future.
C. Plays a quality game of Euchre. Also important, as mocking my brother-in-laws after shellacking them at Euchre every year is a tradition I don't plan on breaking.
D. Understands most of my allusions. I don't feel like I have to throttle down my intelligence when I talk to her, and she catches most of my references. If she doesn't, then I can just explain it without anyone feeling inadequate. Plus, she talks all smart and shit too, and makes references I don't understand frequently. It works.
E. Loves movies, but does not share my quest to see all the best pictures. This is because, like me, she is resistant to seeing really really long movies. I keep telling her that I always thought the same thing but I keep loving these movies I thought I wouldn't, but she hasn't budged yet. Instead, we each pick out a movie from the 2/$1 section of Family Video, either something we think the other one will like, or something we've always wanted to see.
F. Loved Gil Thorp and Judge Parker from the moment she saw them. The fact that she instantly saw the vast potential for humor in the soap opera strips negates the lack of love for The Tick, I think.
So, she's passing the awesome quotient so far.
8. Where was I? Oh, speaking of Judge Parker, why are we bouncing around from story to story here? We go from Sam's new law partner search/sandwich order to Legless Steve getting threats from the Taliban to Abbey Spencer wandering around the abandoned Dickens compound. C'mon, Judge Parker, it takes you 8 months to wrap up one storyline; you cannot handle three at a time. And speaking of the Dickens, am I supposed to believe that the kindly elderly woman who gives pot brownies to her neighbors while her loony husband buzzes around in his biplane all day is the villain of this story? On the plus side, this is better than having absentee Taliban villains, and I can now refer to her as Evil Elvira and her Brownies of Doom. Also, since practically nothing bad ever happens to the villains in this strip outside of the Paris punks, I suppose there is no cause for concern.
9. I take my soap opera comics very seriously.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Bulleted List of Song Lyrics
"She's got one magic trick:" Hey, I now weigh 163 pounds, down from 175 a week ago, and pretty much nowhere near the 190 or so I probably should weigh as a 6'4"ian. This is slightly alarming to me, because gaining weight has never really been my forte, and it really makes me wish I had some form of appetite about now. I'm just going to assume that my body will reset itself to 175 as it always does whenever it meanders away from it.
"She wasn't too bright, but from the way she kissed me, I knew she knew how to get her kicks:" Ok, eHarmony, I officially hate you. "Oh look at us. We've got 8 cajillion elements we match to hook you up with someone who is perfect for you!" Well, eHarmony, I think you're missing one of the most important elements: someone who can write a sentence with correct spelling, grammar, punctuation, and capitalization. Really, is that too much to ask for? Because if I wanted to date people who can't spell, there are about 8 dozen within a stone's throw. Just sayin.
"And we talked about some old times, and drank ourselves some beers:" My first girlfriend, AJ, contacted me recently. She's doing well. Also, it's good timing, because I could sort of use her insight and advice to deal with some situations going on. I really shouldn't get into it here. And it's really not entertaining. Probably shouldn't be on a blog. Where's my editor?
"Well it's the same old story: Everywhere I go I get slandered. Libeled. I hear words I never heard in the Bible. And I'm oh so tired, but I'm trying to keep my customer satisfied:" There was a story here once. I wised up and deleted it.
"She wasn't too bright, but from the way she kissed me, I knew she knew how to get her kicks:" Ok, eHarmony, I officially hate you. "Oh look at us. We've got 8 cajillion elements we match to hook you up with someone who is perfect for you!" Well, eHarmony, I think you're missing one of the most important elements: someone who can write a sentence with correct spelling, grammar, punctuation, and capitalization. Really, is that too much to ask for? Because if I wanted to date people who can't spell, there are about 8 dozen within a stone's throw. Just sayin.
"And we talked about some old times, and drank ourselves some beers:" My first girlfriend, AJ, contacted me recently. She's doing well. Also, it's good timing, because I could sort of use her insight and advice to deal with some situations going on. I really shouldn't get into it here. And it's really not entertaining. Probably shouldn't be on a blog. Where's my editor?
"Well it's the same old story: Everywhere I go I get slandered. Libeled. I hear words I never heard in the Bible. And I'm oh so tired, but I'm trying to keep my customer satisfied:" There was a story here once. I wised up and deleted it.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Things I've Learned This Week
1. If you say, "I've always wanted to be able to draw a perfect heptagon," people will look at you like you're crazy.
2. If you ever get a quesadilla maker, find out if it prefers certain sized tortillas prior to buying two packs of tortillas.
3. Seriously, can you draw a perfect heptagon? It's hard.
4. If you stop blogging for awhile, people might think you have a social life, when in fact you're just addicted to a video game.
5. Really, the topmost point almost always sticks out funny.
6. If someone spends their "break" sitting in the nurse's station of their assigned unit yelling at patients, and then yelling at patients for arguing with them while they're on their break, no one should ever take that person seriously on how to build a therapeutic environment or establish a good rapport with the clients.
7. Drawing perfect nonagons has no appeal for me whatsoever. Heptagons are the thing, I tell you.
2. If you ever get a quesadilla maker, find out if it prefers certain sized tortillas prior to buying two packs of tortillas.
3. Seriously, can you draw a perfect heptagon? It's hard.
4. If you stop blogging for awhile, people might think you have a social life, when in fact you're just addicted to a video game.
5. Really, the topmost point almost always sticks out funny.
6. If someone spends their "break" sitting in the nurse's station of their assigned unit yelling at patients, and then yelling at patients for arguing with them while they're on their break, no one should ever take that person seriously on how to build a therapeutic environment or establish a good rapport with the clients.
7. Drawing perfect nonagons has no appeal for me whatsoever. Heptagons are the thing, I tell you.
Friday, January 4, 2008
A Quick Update Before I Sleep
1. Fiction suggestions: good call. I haven't read anything in a while, so I'm open to suggestions.
2. I have a friend! Woo WOO! It's my friend Satya from high school. She's maybe the only person I know besides myself who can pull off wearing the "This is what AWESOME Looks Like!" shirt. Today is her birthday, which gave me a great excuse to call her up and hang out with her tonight.
3. I attempted to set a serious cockblock on a coworker tonight. He's bragged about his mastery of patient abuse to me before, and is generally full of shit at all times, so I don't feel remotely bad about it. In fact, I'm going to be disappointed with myself if I failed in this task.
4. Furthermore, the whole episode revealed something to me. Contrary to everything I've ever been told about myself, I have a hard time getting women because I'm not cocky, condescending, and conceited enough. It turns out my coworkers full of shititude and ridiculously inflated and unchecked ego is part of the appeal. This is sad, because there's simply no way I can detach myself that far from reality. My greatness is more understated, you see. And only intelligent women can see it, I think. Regrettably, intelligent women appear to be in short supply.
5. I've broken two automobiles since my last post.
6. I've also gotten a shiny new Quesadilla Maker. I bought cheese tonight, but unfortunately I left it at Satya's, so it'll be a couple nights before I get it back and try it. I'm hoping this experience goes so well that I can develop a new feature for this space in addition to "Monday YouTube," "Best Movie Reviews," and the excessively verbiose "Thoughts on Songs I Heard on the Radio Today." The new one: "Things you can make with a Quesadilla Maker."
7. I got the Quesadilla in a white elephant gift exchange. There were a variety of interesting gifts, with "unused appliances received as gifts in years past" being the favorite. Counter space in young married couples is apparently at a premium. A sandwich maker, a milkshake maker, a quesadilla maker, and a bread maker all showed up. I brought two gifts: a travel size magnetic "Nine Men's Morris" game, and Simon and Garfunkel's Greatest Hits. Simon and Garfunkel were not well-received at first, mainly because I'm quite sure everyone in my family already owns it. However, it's value rose later, when all of my siblings realized they had merely succeeded in trading their unused appliances for equally unused appliances, and the goal of "trading down" in order to get something much smaller appeared. Thus, when my sister Abby threw the Simon and Garfunkel back to grab a holiday mug and bowl set, Paul threw in the Quesadilla Maker to get it off his hands for the smaller CD, and I valiantly grabbed it in exchange for the candy dishes I won. The Nine Men's Morris game went to Joe, who was a pioneer in the "Grab the smallest gift and make a run for it" strategy.
Other gifts of note in the exchange: My little brother Aaron brought a cup. I cheap plastic cup from a pizza place in Muncie. It was easily the lamest White Elephant gift in history, or would be, if it weren't for the fact that Casey and Joe brought an exploding coffee maker that is almost guaranteed to spray scalding water all over the kitchen.
8. I've watched The Godfather Part II. I should do a review of it. Also, I fell asleep three times watching The Godfather Part III.
2. I have a friend! Woo WOO! It's my friend Satya from high school. She's maybe the only person I know besides myself who can pull off wearing the "This is what AWESOME Looks Like!" shirt. Today is her birthday, which gave me a great excuse to call her up and hang out with her tonight.
3. I attempted to set a serious cockblock on a coworker tonight. He's bragged about his mastery of patient abuse to me before, and is generally full of shit at all times, so I don't feel remotely bad about it. In fact, I'm going to be disappointed with myself if I failed in this task.
4. Furthermore, the whole episode revealed something to me. Contrary to everything I've ever been told about myself, I have a hard time getting women because I'm not cocky, condescending, and conceited enough. It turns out my coworkers full of shititude and ridiculously inflated and unchecked ego is part of the appeal. This is sad, because there's simply no way I can detach myself that far from reality. My greatness is more understated, you see. And only intelligent women can see it, I think. Regrettably, intelligent women appear to be in short supply.
5. I've broken two automobiles since my last post.
6. I've also gotten a shiny new Quesadilla Maker. I bought cheese tonight, but unfortunately I left it at Satya's, so it'll be a couple nights before I get it back and try it. I'm hoping this experience goes so well that I can develop a new feature for this space in addition to "Monday YouTube," "Best Movie Reviews," and the excessively verbiose "Thoughts on Songs I Heard on the Radio Today." The new one: "Things you can make with a Quesadilla Maker."
7. I got the Quesadilla in a white elephant gift exchange. There were a variety of interesting gifts, with "unused appliances received as gifts in years past" being the favorite. Counter space in young married couples is apparently at a premium. A sandwich maker, a milkshake maker, a quesadilla maker, and a bread maker all showed up. I brought two gifts: a travel size magnetic "Nine Men's Morris" game, and Simon and Garfunkel's Greatest Hits. Simon and Garfunkel were not well-received at first, mainly because I'm quite sure everyone in my family already owns it. However, it's value rose later, when all of my siblings realized they had merely succeeded in trading their unused appliances for equally unused appliances, and the goal of "trading down" in order to get something much smaller appeared. Thus, when my sister Abby threw the Simon and Garfunkel back to grab a holiday mug and bowl set, Paul threw in the Quesadilla Maker to get it off his hands for the smaller CD, and I valiantly grabbed it in exchange for the candy dishes I won. The Nine Men's Morris game went to Joe, who was a pioneer in the "Grab the smallest gift and make a run for it" strategy.
Other gifts of note in the exchange: My little brother Aaron brought a cup. I cheap plastic cup from a pizza place in Muncie. It was easily the lamest White Elephant gift in history, or would be, if it weren't for the fact that Casey and Joe brought an exploding coffee maker that is almost guaranteed to spray scalding water all over the kitchen.
8. I've watched The Godfather Part II. I should do a review of it. Also, I fell asleep three times watching The Godfather Part III.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Downtime Recap
Shirts-related program activities: I wore another blood donation shirt (All-American Blood Donor! Because we don't want that dirty furrner blood. Discard), a Space Ghost Coast to Coast "All Hail Brak!" Shirt (purchased while in Atlanta for a Key Club Convention, regrettably too small for me... so a probably discard, despite the fact that it's one of my favorites, sigh.), and another blue shirt from the Gap almost identical to the blue shirt last featured (left in a locker at Carmel High School after the 1999 school year, and subsequently purloined by me, probably should discard, but it's so freaking comfortable that it pains me to part with it).
Computer-related Program Activities: Computer is patched up. Things are working well. It turns out the video card was in cahoots with Neverwinter Nights to destroy my computer. Dad was able to fix it. I brought Jeff along, and he witnessed the nerdly power of the Lab, and was instantly sucked in. It was love at first sight. I think he's moving in with Dad sometime next week, after Dad gets back from his GenCon nerd convention. Jeff exchanged war stories from his Million Man LAN nerd convention. I rolled my eyes derisively. Jeff noticed.
Mark Trail-related Program Activities: Mark Trail just finished up a storyline. It was pretty much awesome the whole time, and had my computer been up, I might have taken the time to find my favorite panels and add them. But it wasn't, and even if it was, I probably wouldn't. This is just so you know that if you've ever read my opining on Mark Trail and wondered what all the fuss was about, there's no better time to start reading it.
YouTube-related Program Activities: So far, I think Jeff is the only person who appreciated Klaus the Forklift Driver. Since I'm behind, I'll just post this video of Dick Cheney that you've probably already seen in those annoying MoveOn.org emails that I keep getting to remind myself what I'm mad about these days and what I can do about it (I've heard online petitions work wonders!). I've watched it three times now, and I'm still stupefied.
Dammit, Cheney, didn't you ever learn that your first answer is usually the right one?
Computer-related Program Activities: Computer is patched up. Things are working well. It turns out the video card was in cahoots with Neverwinter Nights to destroy my computer. Dad was able to fix it. I brought Jeff along, and he witnessed the nerdly power of the Lab, and was instantly sucked in. It was love at first sight. I think he's moving in with Dad sometime next week, after Dad gets back from his GenCon nerd convention. Jeff exchanged war stories from his Million Man LAN nerd convention. I rolled my eyes derisively. Jeff noticed.
Mark Trail-related Program Activities: Mark Trail just finished up a storyline. It was pretty much awesome the whole time, and had my computer been up, I might have taken the time to find my favorite panels and add them. But it wasn't, and even if it was, I probably wouldn't. This is just so you know that if you've ever read my opining on Mark Trail and wondered what all the fuss was about, there's no better time to start reading it.
YouTube-related Program Activities: So far, I think Jeff is the only person who appreciated Klaus the Forklift Driver. Since I'm behind, I'll just post this video of Dick Cheney that you've probably already seen in those annoying MoveOn.org emails that I keep getting to remind myself what I'm mad about these days and what I can do about it (I've heard online petitions work wonders!). I've watched it three times now, and I'm still stupefied.
Dammit, Cheney, didn't you ever learn that your first answer is usually the right one?
Monday, April 23, 2007
Cleaning, Comedy, Comics, Conversation, Candy
Here's an update into the always exciting life of me:
1. Spring cleaning: Is going to take all spring at this rate. However, there is good news to report. The areas that have been cleaned, have stayed clean. This has never happened before. I just might, might, be on the verge of a breakthrough.
2. work: A conversation with one of my clients:
Client: Andy, y-y-you shaved your goatee!
Andy: Yeah, thanks for noticing.
Client: W-w-w-why'd you d-d-do that?
Andy: Because you told me to.
Client: I did?
Andy: Remember what you told me last week?
Client: To shave so you'd be handsomer like me.
Andy: Right.
Client: (Pause) I'm still handsomer than you.
Andy: Go away, [client].
3. Mark Trail: I'm going to have to start a Mark Trail themed blog. I read it every day and involuntarily laugh at all the inadvertant hilarity. It's a gold mine of awesome, and I feel obligated to point it out to the masses. Only I'm too busy this week, because...
4. Vacation! I'm going up to Minneapolis this week to visit my third college roommate, Nando! It will be awesome. And I won't be able to blog, I imagine. In stark contrast to every other week, when this blog is so productive and all.
1. Spring cleaning: Is going to take all spring at this rate. However, there is good news to report. The areas that have been cleaned, have stayed clean. This has never happened before. I just might, might, be on the verge of a breakthrough.
2. work: A conversation with one of my clients:
Client: Andy, y-y-you shaved your goatee!
Andy: Yeah, thanks for noticing.
Client: W-w-w-why'd you d-d-do that?
Andy: Because you told me to.
Client: I did?
Andy: Remember what you told me last week?
Client: To shave so you'd be handsomer like me.
Andy: Right.
Client: (Pause) I'm still handsomer than you.
Andy: Go away, [client].
3. Mark Trail: I'm going to have to start a Mark Trail themed blog. I read it every day and involuntarily laugh at all the inadvertant hilarity. It's a gold mine of awesome, and I feel obligated to point it out to the masses. Only I'm too busy this week, because...
4. Vacation! I'm going up to Minneapolis this week to visit my third college roommate, Nando! It will be awesome. And I won't be able to blog, I imagine. In stark contrast to every other week, when this blog is so productive and all.
Friday, February 16, 2007
This is Actually a Post Within a Post
***The following paragraphs have practically nothing to do with the matter I want to discuss, and can be replaced with "I went to the doctor today, and was stuck in Richmond for three hours with nothing to do," if you want to get straight to the point and don't want to listen to random thoughts on my doctor visit.***
I went to the doctor today, and he confirmed that I am, in fact, asthmatic, except he went ahead and did a breathing test on me to show me that, contrary to what I've been telling myself for years, my asthma isn't exercise-induced. Apparently, most people are able to take really deep breaths without violently coughing afterwards. Who knew?
The breathing test showed that my lungs operate at 81% capacity, and I was told that they should operate at 100%. I probably could have figured that part out on my own. The end result of this is that my inhaler is now once per day in addition to as needed. This rather sucks.
I found this doctor through my dad, mainly because I did not want to go to the incompetent Dr. Vet School Dropout who's office is a block away from my apartment. This doctor operates in an office a good 40 minutes away from my apartment, but I feel it's worth the drive. The extra fun part is that he has his mission statement posted all over his waiting room, and it reads "My ideal medical practice is one that embraces the scientific methods and achievements of the West without ignoring ancient healing traditions from other cultures." I'm hoping I can get my lungs moxibusted next time I'm there. But seriously, I think he's really good thus far.
None of this has anything to do with the post I intended on writing. I just mentioned the doctor because my appointment ended at 11:30, and I have to work at 2:30, and didn't want to drive an hour round trip to go home for two hours, so I stayed in Richmond and looked for ways to kill three hours' time.
***Those of you who skipped may now rejoin the rest of us***
So I was stuck in Richmond with nothing to do for three hours, and decided to go shopping for a Tom Petty cd that I don't already own. There are only three: "Hard Promises", "Long After Dark" (which is the album Petty is least proud of), and "Southern Accents". These cds are tricky to find because the only tracks that get any radio play now from these albums are "The Waiting", "Don't Come Around Here No More", and very rarely "You Got Lucky". Since they aren't old enough to be 'classic' albums, they have yet to be remastered, apparently. My only hope, therefore, was Side 1 Music, a nice music store with very informed staff that always make me feel like a loser with bad taste.
I didn't find any of my Petty albums, despite the staff's eagerness to help me out. Instead, I ended up perusing their random mishmash of used CDs and purchased three for a very acceptable price. The problem is that every time I buy cds, I wonder what I'm revealing about my personality, tastes, and general level of culture. I could never be a music store clerk because I would silently analyze and judge everyone who bought cds on my shift. Here are the cds I purchased today:
1. K's Choice, "Paradise In Me". I know absolutely nothing about this album or even the band, but I liked the song "I'm Not An Addict" from Wild Things. I was 16 when Wild Things came out in theaters, and I can safely say that there was no heterosexual 16 year old male that did not make an effort to see it. Verdict: I like boobs.
2. James, "Whiplash". I've never met anyone outside of my extended family who has ever heard of this band until I introduced it to them. I think they're quite popular in England, though. I used to have a tape of this album, but I lost it at some point, or it was eaten, and when I saw this album, I considered it a miracle that it was even there. It took me about a third of a second to grab it. Verdict: I like snooty music you've never heard of.
3. Duran Duran, "Greatest Hits". I'm not sure why, but it's always seemed to me that Duran Duran was a band that you are just not supposed to like. People have to like them. You can't get through an all-request 80s radio show without having them requested. But still, it's always with a scoff, like, "Hey, it's Duran Duran. They're always good for a laugh. I remember when people liked that type of music," and if you say, "But I still do," you get "heh, I bet you like 'Hey Mickey' too." "No, no, Duran Duran is nothing like 'Hey Mickey'," I protest, but it's futile. What's so inherently wrong with Duran Duran that I feel a stygma attached to them? Verdict: I like crappy music everyone makes fun of.
So clearly, I'm a mystery when it comes to music. A mystery who likes boobs.
(I have been listening to K's Choice for the entirety of this post. They are rather brooding, and Belgian. And I don't understand what some of their lyrics mean. They're ok in my book.)
I went to the doctor today, and he confirmed that I am, in fact, asthmatic, except he went ahead and did a breathing test on me to show me that, contrary to what I've been telling myself for years, my asthma isn't exercise-induced. Apparently, most people are able to take really deep breaths without violently coughing afterwards. Who knew?
The breathing test showed that my lungs operate at 81% capacity, and I was told that they should operate at 100%. I probably could have figured that part out on my own. The end result of this is that my inhaler is now once per day in addition to as needed. This rather sucks.
I found this doctor through my dad, mainly because I did not want to go to the incompetent Dr. Vet School Dropout who's office is a block away from my apartment. This doctor operates in an office a good 40 minutes away from my apartment, but I feel it's worth the drive. The extra fun part is that he has his mission statement posted all over his waiting room, and it reads "My ideal medical practice is one that embraces the scientific methods and achievements of the West without ignoring ancient healing traditions from other cultures." I'm hoping I can get my lungs moxibusted next time I'm there. But seriously, I think he's really good thus far.
None of this has anything to do with the post I intended on writing. I just mentioned the doctor because my appointment ended at 11:30, and I have to work at 2:30, and didn't want to drive an hour round trip to go home for two hours, so I stayed in Richmond and looked for ways to kill three hours' time.
***Those of you who skipped may now rejoin the rest of us***
So I was stuck in Richmond with nothing to do for three hours, and decided to go shopping for a Tom Petty cd that I don't already own. There are only three: "Hard Promises", "Long After Dark" (which is the album Petty is least proud of), and "Southern Accents". These cds are tricky to find because the only tracks that get any radio play now from these albums are "The Waiting", "Don't Come Around Here No More", and very rarely "You Got Lucky". Since they aren't old enough to be 'classic' albums, they have yet to be remastered, apparently. My only hope, therefore, was Side 1 Music, a nice music store with very informed staff that always make me feel like a loser with bad taste.
I didn't find any of my Petty albums, despite the staff's eagerness to help me out. Instead, I ended up perusing their random mishmash of used CDs and purchased three for a very acceptable price. The problem is that every time I buy cds, I wonder what I'm revealing about my personality, tastes, and general level of culture. I could never be a music store clerk because I would silently analyze and judge everyone who bought cds on my shift. Here are the cds I purchased today:
1. K's Choice, "Paradise In Me". I know absolutely nothing about this album or even the band, but I liked the song "I'm Not An Addict" from Wild Things. I was 16 when Wild Things came out in theaters, and I can safely say that there was no heterosexual 16 year old male that did not make an effort to see it. Verdict: I like boobs.
2. James, "Whiplash". I've never met anyone outside of my extended family who has ever heard of this band until I introduced it to them. I think they're quite popular in England, though. I used to have a tape of this album, but I lost it at some point, or it was eaten, and when I saw this album, I considered it a miracle that it was even there. It took me about a third of a second to grab it. Verdict: I like snooty music you've never heard of.
3. Duran Duran, "Greatest Hits". I'm not sure why, but it's always seemed to me that Duran Duran was a band that you are just not supposed to like. People have to like them. You can't get through an all-request 80s radio show without having them requested. But still, it's always with a scoff, like, "Hey, it's Duran Duran. They're always good for a laugh. I remember when people liked that type of music," and if you say, "But I still do," you get "heh, I bet you like 'Hey Mickey' too." "No, no, Duran Duran is nothing like 'Hey Mickey'," I protest, but it's futile. What's so inherently wrong with Duran Duran that I feel a stygma attached to them? Verdict: I like crappy music everyone makes fun of.
So clearly, I'm a mystery when it comes to music. A mystery who likes boobs.
(I have been listening to K's Choice for the entirety of this post. They are rather brooding, and Belgian. And I don't understand what some of their lyrics mean. They're ok in my book.)
The Devil Does Not Play Here
...because I have had no idle hands recently. I've been keeping busy with spending time with a friend who has been in serious need of a friend to spend time with, work, cleaning my apartment, work, evading the bank's shock troops they send out when I park my car in their nicely plowed lot, and other mishaps.
This is all a shame, because I had a nice list of posts that may never be written now. Instead, my faithful readers will be treated to a Bulleted List of Unwritten Posts:
1. A post about my apparently unpopular opinion of Disturbed's live sets. This post would've included a Venn Diagram and me admitting humiliating things, starting with the fact that I've seen Disturbed not once, but twice in concert.
2. A post about my unpopular opinion of the presidency of Abraham Lincoln. I think he sucked and set a number of bad precedents.
3. A post about my unpopular opinion on unpopular opinions. I think they're usually unpopular for the simple reason that they're wrong. Except for my unpopular opinions, of course.
4. A post about how asthma has made me a better basketball player. This post probably wouldn't have been very good, but I still find it interesting, and this is my blog, not yours, you ingrates.
5. A post apologizing for that post.
Instead, I'm just going to write one post for today in addition to this bulleted list, and it probably won't be very good. Bulleted lists are penance for sporadic bloggers.
This is all a shame, because I had a nice list of posts that may never be written now. Instead, my faithful readers will be treated to a Bulleted List of Unwritten Posts:
1. A post about my apparently unpopular opinion of Disturbed's live sets. This post would've included a Venn Diagram and me admitting humiliating things, starting with the fact that I've seen Disturbed not once, but twice in concert.
2. A post about my unpopular opinion of the presidency of Abraham Lincoln. I think he sucked and set a number of bad precedents.
3. A post about my unpopular opinion on unpopular opinions. I think they're usually unpopular for the simple reason that they're wrong. Except for my unpopular opinions, of course.
4. A post about how asthma has made me a better basketball player. This post probably wouldn't have been very good, but I still find it interesting, and this is my blog, not yours, you ingrates.
5. A post apologizing for that post.
Instead, I'm just going to write one post for today in addition to this bulleted list, and it probably won't be very good. Bulleted lists are penance for sporadic bloggers.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
There's a switch
Things went much better at work yesterday, so I'm going to change my tone from talking about very serious problems with my job to not at all serious problems with my life. A good time shall be had by all.
1. I'm out of toothpaste, sort of. I once bought a tube of Ultrabrite toothpaste because it was only 50 cents or something, so I figured it was worth a try. It wasn't. Ultrabrite is more like actual paste than toothpaste. Anyway, after brushing my teeth about three days with it, at which point it clogged up my drain, I decided to go buy some Crest and save the Ultrabrite for only the most dire, dire emergencies. Since then, I've been very good about buying real toothpaste when it's on sale, but I find myself out now, and have been using the Ultrabrite. This is compounded by the fact that in the year that it's been sitting in my medicine cabinet, the Ultrabrite toothpaste has glued itself into its tube and will not come out. I have squeezed that tube with both hands as hard as I can and still can't break it. The past three nights I've been thinking, "Is it better to brush with Ultrabrite or just wait until I have real toothpaste?" I err on the side of hygiene, but the thought is there.
2. I have no hot water, sort of. In normal circumstances, my water takes about 10 minutes to heat up, at which point it gets very hot and serviceable for a shower. Now, my water takes about 10 minutes to get lukewarm, and then five minutes later will become ice cold again. In that five minutes, I get in the shower and bathe as quickly as possible before I get frozen out again. It's the least relaxing way to get clean ever. This has also made me obsessive compulsive about my hair, as it always feels dirty now since I'm in and out. I feel the need to wash my hair about 8 times a day. If I could harness that into the need to clean my apartment just once a week, I'd be doing a lot better.
3. There's a heat lamp in my bathroom, sort of. I've never tried it before today, but as my water was cold and the apartment was cold, I thought maybe I could use it to warm up my bathroom and at least get a little bit of heat. It didn't work. I cranked it up, it emitted some horrible noise and a terrible smell of something burning that I initially pinned to "animal carcass." I think if I had left it on, I would've caused an electrical fire.
So, anyone who sees me in real life, please forgive me if I seem a little less hygienic than usual.
1. I'm out of toothpaste, sort of. I once bought a tube of Ultrabrite toothpaste because it was only 50 cents or something, so I figured it was worth a try. It wasn't. Ultrabrite is more like actual paste than toothpaste. Anyway, after brushing my teeth about three days with it, at which point it clogged up my drain, I decided to go buy some Crest and save the Ultrabrite for only the most dire, dire emergencies. Since then, I've been very good about buying real toothpaste when it's on sale, but I find myself out now, and have been using the Ultrabrite. This is compounded by the fact that in the year that it's been sitting in my medicine cabinet, the Ultrabrite toothpaste has glued itself into its tube and will not come out. I have squeezed that tube with both hands as hard as I can and still can't break it. The past three nights I've been thinking, "Is it better to brush with Ultrabrite or just wait until I have real toothpaste?" I err on the side of hygiene, but the thought is there.
2. I have no hot water, sort of. In normal circumstances, my water takes about 10 minutes to heat up, at which point it gets very hot and serviceable for a shower. Now, my water takes about 10 minutes to get lukewarm, and then five minutes later will become ice cold again. In that five minutes, I get in the shower and bathe as quickly as possible before I get frozen out again. It's the least relaxing way to get clean ever. This has also made me obsessive compulsive about my hair, as it always feels dirty now since I'm in and out. I feel the need to wash my hair about 8 times a day. If I could harness that into the need to clean my apartment just once a week, I'd be doing a lot better.
3. There's a heat lamp in my bathroom, sort of. I've never tried it before today, but as my water was cold and the apartment was cold, I thought maybe I could use it to warm up my bathroom and at least get a little bit of heat. It didn't work. I cranked it up, it emitted some horrible noise and a terrible smell of something burning that I initially pinned to "animal carcass." I think if I had left it on, I would've caused an electrical fire.
So, anyone who sees me in real life, please forgive me if I seem a little less hygienic than usual.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
The Year Andy Didn't Save Christmas
While attempting to wrap Christmas presents tonight, I realized I forgot two crucial things when I went shopping:
1. Wrapping paper. Luckily I have a plethora of plastic shopping bags.
2. Phoebe's present. This is much less forgivable, because I'm easily Phoebe's favorite uncle. How did I forget hers? A cursory glance around my apartment revealed the following items that a 2 year old girl might enjoy (and behold my bulleted list inside a bulleted list. I'm upping the blogging ante):
1. A green stuffed fish. Good for tossing around, and quite cuddly. Problem is, it was a gift from way back in the day, and regifting never sits well with me.
2. A dreidel. I have no clue where it came from, and I'm equally clueless about how to play. Does it have something to do with gambling? Would it be sacrilege to give a dreidel for Christmas?
3. A They Might Be Giants CD. Can you think of someone who wouldn't enjoy one of these? I cannot, but I'm not sure I'm willing to part with mine or how much she'd enjoy it.
4. Mardi Gras beads. I'm equally unsure of where these came from. I think the cafeteria at Wabash gave them out one year on Ash Wednesday, probably because they were hopelessly inept. Giving Mardi Gras beads to a very small child seems inherently wrong, though.
5. The Muppets Take Manhattan? When did I get this? And why is it still in its shrink wrap? I think we have a winner. I'll throw in the Mardi Gras beads and none will be the wiser.
Except that I'm admitting the whole thing on the internets, of course.
1. Wrapping paper. Luckily I have a plethora of plastic shopping bags.
2. Phoebe's present. This is much less forgivable, because I'm easily Phoebe's favorite uncle. How did I forget hers? A cursory glance around my apartment revealed the following items that a 2 year old girl might enjoy (and behold my bulleted list inside a bulleted list. I'm upping the blogging ante):
1. A green stuffed fish. Good for tossing around, and quite cuddly. Problem is, it was a gift from way back in the day, and regifting never sits well with me.
2. A dreidel. I have no clue where it came from, and I'm equally clueless about how to play. Does it have something to do with gambling? Would it be sacrilege to give a dreidel for Christmas?
3. A They Might Be Giants CD. Can you think of someone who wouldn't enjoy one of these? I cannot, but I'm not sure I'm willing to part with mine or how much she'd enjoy it.
4. Mardi Gras beads. I'm equally unsure of where these came from. I think the cafeteria at Wabash gave them out one year on Ash Wednesday, probably because they were hopelessly inept. Giving Mardi Gras beads to a very small child seems inherently wrong, though.
5. The Muppets Take Manhattan? When did I get this? And why is it still in its shrink wrap? I think we have a winner. I'll throw in the Mardi Gras beads and none will be the wiser.
Except that I'm admitting the whole thing on the internets, of course.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Fresh Start
I used to write in an online journal at diaryland.com, but then I ran into a few problems:
1. My life got very repetitive, which made for very boring writing.
2. I felt the need to write about other things, like music, sports, literature, and animation.
3. Since I really have no useful knowledge about at least two of those topics, I felt the need to be able to get comments on these things so that when I make uninformed moral judgments about them, people who know better can call me on it. Diaryland insisted that I pay them for a service that everyone else provides freely, and so I must relocate.
4. I tend to get a bit wordy, so I felt that the occasional illustration might help me out. Also, I can just link to things instead of quoting them.
5. My sister has one of these, and has a lot of imaginary internet friends as a result. Since I'm not going to be writing in detail about parenting, pregnancy, women's health, midwives and homebirth, vegetarianism, or Linda Hirshman, I'm guessing the Venn Diagram formed by our imaginary internet friend circles will not have a large middle section, so my plan is to find my own circle of blog friends and get them to follow my lead in posting snide comments on Casey's blog. A good time will be had by all. And who was this Venn character?
And so begins my new online home, which I have decided to call "Online Somewhere." I am marginally happy with this choice. I am very bad at thinking up titles.
Holy crap. My first entry is a bulleted list. I really am a blogger.
1. My life got very repetitive, which made for very boring writing.
2. I felt the need to write about other things, like music, sports, literature, and animation.
3. Since I really have no useful knowledge about at least two of those topics, I felt the need to be able to get comments on these things so that when I make uninformed moral judgments about them, people who know better can call me on it. Diaryland insisted that I pay them for a service that everyone else provides freely, and so I must relocate.
4. I tend to get a bit wordy, so I felt that the occasional illustration might help me out. Also, I can just link to things instead of quoting them.
5. My sister has one of these, and has a lot of imaginary internet friends as a result. Since I'm not going to be writing in detail about parenting, pregnancy, women's health, midwives and homebirth, vegetarianism, or Linda Hirshman, I'm guessing the Venn Diagram formed by our imaginary internet friend circles will not have a large middle section, so my plan is to find my own circle of blog friends and get them to follow my lead in posting snide comments on Casey's blog. A good time will be had by all. And who was this Venn character?
And so begins my new online home, which I have decided to call "Online Somewhere." I am marginally happy with this choice. I am very bad at thinking up titles.
Holy crap. My first entry is a bulleted list. I really am a blogger.
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