Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Friday, May 26, 2006
In a shocking turn of events this week, all the Amtrak trains in the Northeast corridor were on time. "This is certainly NOT up to the caliber of our usual service," head of Public Disgruntlement Harry Mess commented. "We aim to return to the usual 1 to 3-hour delays as soon as possible, so our regular client base can regain stability."
Sentence for short sex offender draws fire
"Short sex is bad sex, and this fellow needs to be punished much more severely in order to learn that lesson" said Ms. Harpy Ballstomp, the prosecuting attorney.
Arcelor reaches deal with Severstal
The Widgerent index rose 15 pacelburgs on this cafflegringing news.
Oil prices rise ahead of long weekend
News flash - They've run out of other reasons to increase the price!
Artists discuss plan to wrap Arkansas River
In rebuttal, the Sane People Against Crazy Excess (SPACE) plan to wrap artists to keep them from doing stupid crap like this ever, ever again.
Chesapeake Bay underwater grasses rebound
Catfish and eels go in for the dunk.
2 cloned mules to race in Nevada showdown
Cloned. Racing.Mules. Y'all, I can't think of a snappy comeback, but just the thought of it makes me want to go to Nevada. It's like monkeys iceskating or squirels water-skiing - something ya just gotta see!
And now, eet's peekcher time, Americal Idol style!
That'll do it for today, folks! Join us next week, same time, saaaame station, for a recap of all the news that's fit for nowhere else!!!
Blogger's note - have a terrifical weekend, y'all. Be safe and I'll see ya here next week.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
There is a chance that this post will have nothing whatsoever to do with the title I've plopped up there as a space-filler and vowed to myself not to change. It's also possible that this post may have some small thing to do with the title, but we won't really know until after it's all said and done, now will we? I may be able to tie together threads of conscious thought into an understandable outpouring of notion and fact, or I might not.
Let's just see how it goes, in this first ever stream-of-consciousness post on N.A.Y.
When I was a kid, I wanted to grow up to be a(n) 1) nurse, 2) teacher, 3) famous person known by only one name, 4) actress, 5) a speech therapist, 6) biologist, 7) famous person known by only one name.
I have made good on numbers 2 and 6. It is blindingly clear that I have much more to do in this life.
Numbers 2 and 6 happened because I realized, 3 years into college, that I couldn't be number 5. There are several good reasons for this, and some very bad reasons for this. See if you can pick out which is which!
1) I was much more interested in anatomy and physiology than anything else they taught me in the program
2) Most of the people in the program were girls
3) Most of them were the sorority-girl type
5) I have little patience with people who don't speak properly
6) The thought of spending my career hunched over trying to teach a little kid how to speak properly through the use of puppets, mirrors, wind chimes, and magic seemed a little short on the whole "life goals" chart.
7) Did I mention most of the people in the program were girls?
This is not to say that I don't value the work that speech therapists/pathologists do, b because I HAD speech therapy as a kid and it saved me from a lifetime of tongue thrusting (ooooh, how sexy!) and its after-effects. It just wasn't for me....
But I wonder, could I have become a world-famous audiologist who was known only by one name if I had stayed? Because, while the speech therapy thing was a non-starter for me, there was always audiology, a field in which one gets to play with expensive equipment and tinker with computers and analyze things. This was marginally appealing, especially since the 2 guys in the program were going to be audiologists. Gotta go where the goods are, y'all!
Anyhow, that's my story about why I'm not a world-famous audiologist right now. Of course, I'm no longer a teacher or biologist either, but that's a story for a different day.
I'm fighting the urge to change the title.
Finally, without looking it up on Yahoo, who the flaming heck is THIS person????
I was stunned when I found out.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Skippy and Doo-dah remind Miss Tiff of “Pinky and the Brain,” with the smaller one being the more intensely intelligent of the two and the larger one, while still smart (there goes the Pinky and the Brain analogy), is not as verbal (in fact, not really terribly gifted verbally at all, given the stammer that hinders the expostulation of nearly every single word uttered from his resonant voice box).
Skippy and Doo-dah live life at a furiously mentally challenging pace, harboring vast stores of data in their crania that are accessible to their nimble intelligence at any given moment. When Skippy talks it sounds like he’s reading from prepared notes, even if there aren’t any, which Miss Tiff thinks is an amazing feat. Doo-dah can anticipate needs for data display like a savant, throwing up screens full of information and ferreting out point and counterpoint like he’s telling us in what direction we can find the sky. This smoking-hot smarty-pantsedness makes Tiffy feel like the moronic spawn of a cretin and a halfwit who was raised by flatworms under a boulder in a dampish forest in a part of the world that has yet to be discovered by modern man.
Skippy and Doo-dah like to have Miss Tiff around, all the time. Miss Tiff, while flattered, thinks this is kind of odd, especially when Skippy and Doo-dah don’t seem to actually know she’s in the room. Miss Tiff wonders if Skippy and Doo-dah feel that because they’re paying for her time that she ought to give them her full attention while they’re in town. Miss Tiff has to do battle with her desire to get other things done while Skippy and Doo-dah are around, because she is used to multi-tasking, which means not focusing on stuff for a loooong time, like Skippy and Doo-dah want her to do.
Skippy and Doo-dah drag Tiffy all over in their shiny white van that smells of new car, which is good, and almost like the white steed on which she always thought her Prince would come, but they make her sit in the back, which makes her feels like someone’s kid, because Miss Tiffy is used to driving, not being driven. Miss Tiff wonders, while in the back of the new white van, what would happen if they were suddenly to overturn on the highway while going 70 miles an hour. How would the police and ambulance crews dissect her splattered remains from those of Skippy and Doo-dah and their sometime-sidekick Scruffy? Would part of her always be intermingled with their corporeal or (shudder) spiritual presence? Would her cremains contain the stain of their comingled funky aura for perpetuity? Miss Tiff shivers slightly in the backset of the new white van and tries to think of something better than being greasily smeared along the pavement of the Durham Freeway with Skippy, Doo-dah, and Scruffy.
Skippy and Doo-dah do not know that Miss Tiff wrote most of this while they were talking about minor medical events at ten after 5 on a Tuesday evening. Skippy and Doo-dah must have thought she wass taking notes of their important medical conversation. Skippy and Doo-dah believed, Tiff was sure, that she hung on every gold-dipped syllable that emanated from their voluble pie-holes. They would have been very wrong in this belief, but Miss TIff is much too much of a lady to tell them this.
Skippy and Doo-dah, at long last, left town at 1:30 on Wednesday the 24th of May. Miss Tiff is happy to inform you that she is very very pleased at this turn of events.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Monday, May 22, 2006
Is there anything better than taking your kid to a baseball game on a sunny Sunday afternoon?
Why yes, yes there is, and I believe it's called "taking your kid to a baseball game on a sunny Sunday afternoon when it's his BIRTHDAY and his name gets announced on the P.A. system and there's cold beer in your cup and you're in the shade and the seats were only 9 bucks and you're 3 rows away from being able to pat the on-deck batters on the shoulder (or, maybe other body parts, but whatever) and 'your' team wins."
Oh yes, friends, it was an Opie afternoon in Zebulon.
Another question, and a baking tip straight from the kitchens of Tiff-
Did you know that you can make a cake from a box and leave out the oil and it still tastes fine?
Here's the tip - if you use peanut butter filling and milk chocolate frosting, you'd never KNOW a cake didn't have oil in it!
And finally, Rennratt answered the trivia question from Friday's post, so she wins the prize.
What the prize IS, we don't know, but she answered "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer."
YOUR job is to figure out what the question was.
Friday, May 19, 2006
Let's get Biiizeee!
Word on the street is the "Bumble and Bumble" stock was the key reason for the rebound.
(If you can name the movie reference that makes this joke work, mention it in the comments and win a prize!)Senate Votes Twice for English Language
Once in English, once in Spanish
Cruise Officials Say Man Fell Overboard
I'd say the couch jumping was GOING overboard, but if the officials say "fell," who am I to argue?
Scientists Claim New Monkey Species Found
The monkeys assert that they were never lost in the first place.
Enron Jury Takes Weekend Off
The jury on L Ron is still out.
Gore in movie campaign to protect Earth
"It's a puzzlement to me how splashing blood and guts onscreen will have any protective effect at all," one moviegoer was heard to say," but if that's what it takes to save our planet, then that's what it takes, I suppose."Vatican Disciplines Legionaries' Founder
Bring in....the comfy chair!!!!
Stocks Keep Falling After 2-Day Plunge
Guess Cornelius lost the mojo at a critical moment.
(Again, this is obscure, but smirk-worthy when tied in with the previous lame attempt at humor aimed at 40-somethings).
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Tiff's cell phone is ringing! Answer it, Tiff! Let's see who's there!
"Tiff, it's the mortgage lady."
"Hi mortgage lady, this is Tiff, what's up?"
"I need written verification that you work where you say you work so we can give you money for your new house."
"OK, but I sent you the pay stub that you asked for, isn't that enough?"
"Well, your company doesn't put their name on the stub, so I can't tell if you work for who you say you work for."
"OK.........so, uh, what do I need to do?"
"You need to get your HR group to fill out a form I'm going to FAX to you, and have them FAX it back to me as soon as possible so we can keep your rate locked at much-too-much percent."
"OK - send it to me and I'll have them step on it."
Tiff receives the FAX and e-mails it off to her local helpful HR rep, who doesn't respond for like a billion hours. Tiff then receives an e-mail from someone who's name she doesn't recognize, which tells her that she needs to go to a WEBSITE to enter some info to give to the mortgage company so that they can go to the WEBSITE to type in the info to get verification that Tiff works where she says she works. This, somehow, is easier than signing the damn paper and sending it back to Tiff.
Tiff goes to the website, sees that it's really EASY to get verification of employment, and happily sends off the information to the mortgage lady in a phone message.
"Hi, this is Tiff"
"Hi Tiff, this is the mortgage lady. I don't have the right code."
"What? But the WEBSITE said that my company code is 12345, didn't that work?"
"Well yes, that's your COMPANY code, but I need a salary key."
"A 6-digit salary key so I can find out if what your pay stub says you make is what you really make."
"Why do you need to know THAT? Isn't the pay stub enough?"
"Not without your company name on it. I'm going to need the salary key."
"OK, fine, I'll get back to you."
Tiff goes to the WEBSITE, but, sadly, cannot remember the username or password that is required for her to log in to the system to GET the salary key, so after a few failed, yet creative, attempts at logging in she dials up the 800 number to get help.
(A vaguely familiar voice, akin to the filmstrip guy's booming tones that described life on the African savannah when she was in second grade, proclaims):
"Thank you for calling 1-800-bite-me, where we will now begin sifting out your will to live through our winnow of despairingly complicated auto-prompts. Please press 1, then key in your last name, then punch the pound button to try to fool me into sending you to a real person, at which point I will start over from the VERY BEGINNING to heighten your sense of futility. Stay with me here! After spending some quality time going around and around in circles, never getting QUITE to the point of satisfaction, we will finally take mercy on you and shunt you off to a help desk representative who will attempt to answer the question you have that is obviously so unusual that we don't yet have a prompt for it, loser! "
(New, disinterested young female voice comes on the phone)
"This is 1-880-bite-me, what's you company code?"
"Are you calling to get your information or are you calling to get information about you for a third party?"
(brief pause while trying to decipher question.)
"Uh, I'm calling to get my username and password so I can log into the system."
"What's your company code, your name, your address, and your social security number?"
"12345, I told you my name, my SSN is 123456789, and my address is 123 west 3rd lane, Wake forest"
"That's not the address we have on file for you."
"OK, could you give me a hint as to which address you DO have?"
"Huh. OK. Hmm, what the heck was the address of that apartment I lived in for 4 months while getting settled in down here? It was 1234 SOMETHING Something down in Raleigh, but I can't remember the name of the street."
(Crickets chirp loudly as young female voice ignores Tiff and probably does her nails).
"Oh crap -I'll have to get back to you."
No goodbye, no nothing. Tiff feels sad.
However, with hope in her heart, Tiff goes online to search for the address of the apartment she lived in for a few months, finds it, and calls the help line again, wherein she has to navigate the mocking voice of the automatonic man who resonates disdain with every carefully enunciated syllable before she can talk to a real live human being once more, who is actually very personable and helpful and gets Tiff straight on what her username and password and PIN number are so that she can finally, FINALLY acces the super-secret "salary key" to give to the mortgage lady.
With a deep sigh of satisfaction at realizing that her 90 minutes of bumbling around the internet and byzantine phone tree of the online information service is about to end, Tiff keys in her username and password on the WEBSITE, only to see the message:
THERE HAVE BEEN TOO MANY UNSECCESSFUL LOGIN ATTEMPTS. YOU ARE LOCKED OUT OF THE SYSTEM. PLEASE CALL THE HELPLINE FOR MORE INFORMATION.
At which point Tiff beats her head slowly on the edge of her desk to numb the painfully deep disappointment that threatens to manifest itself in a cussing and phone-slamming session of great report.
Fear not, gentle reader - Tiff finally DID get the super-secret "salary key" at about 8 p.m. EST after letting the computer system "refresh" itself (I suppose it must have felt dirty after giving her the virtual finger), and now the mortgage lady has all she needs to dig deeply into Tiff's personal past life to see if she's the kind of citizen that deserves the loan for which she pre-qualified 3 weeks ago.
One can only hope.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
--Standing on the front porch the day we brought our first baby boy home, talking on the phone with friends and sharing the good news while watching a parade of ladybugs clothe the house in spotted finery.
--Weeding the big garden in the first house we built together, with a cold cocktail resting on the fencepost and the sound of the neighbor's lawnmower whirring in the background.
--Waiting to wake up baby #2 from a long nap because his face was so perfect in the long reach of evening that I just had to watch it one minute longer.
--Pushing the boys in the tire swing last night and realizing that, if we were to remain in this house, we'd have to shorten the rope a few inches because their legs are so long that their feet now brush the ground on the downswing, and feeling like the light couldn't last long enough to hold that memory in place.
So many golden moments. So many gilded memories. So much potential for anything to happen in the slow turning of the earth toward night.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
OK, fine, I check EVERY day......but not obsessively. Six times a day, maybe? That's not obsessive, is it? Please say no, I'm new at this still and haven't developed a thick enough skin to not want people to come by and sit a spell.
The sitemeter is a trove of information. Often I recognize the familiar "names," those people who I know now by their internet provider or town name, and to whom I'm grateful for stopping by on a regular basis (thanks guys!). On occasion there are new names too, those folks who come here through other sites and who, if I'm lucky, return from time to time. And, as I'm sure you can imagine, there are some people who come in search of things, likely never to return.
It's those last few people in whom I'm interested lately. Who are they, those people who are looking for "pictures of Paris Hilton," or are on a quest for information about scintillating scotoma (that's a biggie for this humble site), pictures of Efudex treatment, or links to games?
It's pretty cool to think that, in some way, the informational portion of this blog will help someone. Makes me wish I had more medical issues, kinda, so that I could fill this blog chock FULL of tidbits about me and all the stuff that's wrong with me.
For instance, I could talk about how I have amblyopia. Because I do. See? I'm a cornucopia of oddness, with a story for almost every bodily system. Y'all know, if you've read N.A.Y. from the start, that I had the Hirschprung's disease as a kid, and transposed intestines, a smidge of childhood chubbiness, body odor issues (oh, yes, a first-grader who wears deodorant - it has happened!), tallness issues, freckles, paralyzing shyness, tinnitus, a-fib, varicose veins, migraines, and the aforementioned crazy alien vision problems. It's a wonder I can think at all.
Curiously, I still think I'm "normal." Why wouldn't I be? Who cares if I had part of my large intestine removed and skip a heartbeat every once in a while and can't wear shorts and only experienced 3-D vision for the first time a the age of 39 (thanks prismatic lenses!)? Those afflictions, if I dress properly and use the Sure and keep my glasses on and employ my verbal self-edit function on a consistent basis, aren't visible to anyone, and therefore don't affect how people perceive me.
Getting back to the point, I guess there are a whole LOT of medical-type things I could go on and on about here. Stuff of which I have first-hand knowledge. Things that would ping the hitmeter and bolster my page views and maybe gain me a few more semi-regular visitors.
But, you know, just like I don't really want this to be an "all funny, all the time" blog or a "Mommy blog" or a "stuff I did today" blog, I also don't want this to be a "all about my problems" blog.
Because, really, who wants to read about non-functioning intestines or crazy alien vision issues ALL the time?
So, sorry all y'all who searched on any of those medical phrases and words I just used, and are served nothing but bitter disappointment. It's just not my style to dwell on the unpleasant.
You can always browse the archives for games, I guess.
Oh fine - I have to give y'all SOMETHING to go on, so here ya go.
"Hi! I'm Paris. Like the city, get it? I'm the pretty Hilton sister. Look! Look at my new dress! See how pretty it is, just like ME? Don't you like how it swirls around all pretty, like me?
Isn't it weird how Nicole and me and Ashlee are all starting to look alike? Isn't that hott? The bobblehead look is so IN right now! Totally! You know, I bet if they wore a dress made out of the sheets their moms used on their bed when they were in grade 3 then maybe they'd be as pretty as me, but I guess that maybe they didn't have 600-thread count ultra-high-density pure Pima cotton in a pretty pretty print like this on their beds because they didn't grow up all that rich, really, so whatever. I'm pretty! See?
My mom says it's neat that this dress covers my crotch, and I think it's cool too because now I don't have to wear underwear or remember not to cross my legs or sprawl. 'Cause I'm a TOTAL sprawler, y'all!. Believe it!
Oops, there's my sister over there trying to look prettier than me, I gotta go now and show her who the REAL popular Hilton is. Bye!"
There, satisfied now?
Oh, all right. FINE. Don't ever say I never gave you anything...
Gary Larson needs to come back for just one more. Please, Gar?
P.S - I'm trying out a new font - whaddaya think?
Monday, May 15, 2006
Friday, May 12, 2006
Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, this is Guy Smiley reporting for TIFF Teevee.....
We've got a full lineup today, so let's get going before it's all old news!
From the world of science, this story:
The bottom line - The tighter they are, the more heart attacks they cause.
From the international news desk:
Promoters now say it was a mistake to premiere Ishtar, Gigli, and M:i:III the same weekend.
In the human-interest sphere:
Moonshine, on the other hand, will still be available for anyone with a fiver and a fast car.
Back to science for a moment:
"I'd give 'em a 7," the primate was heard to say. "They're cute, but sloppy, and look horrible in suede."
In health news:
From our sports desk:
Hi-ho! As as added feature this week, we bring you visuals of news from around the world!
Bullfighter Carlos Inigo Montoya de Casteneda el Grande Mucho mas Macho was almost impaled on the horns of "El Diablo" this weekend in what onlookers described as a horrific display of poor taste in clothing. "Nobody wears pink and green anymore," said Maria Teresa Esperanza Angelica Schmidt, "too bad the bull didn't go a little to the left to put this guy out of business for a while. A few episodes of 'What Not to Wear' while he's in hospital would do him good."
In a real stunner of a story, it seems as though Marc Anthony and Jimmy Smits are to be the new team on "Dancing with the Stars"! "The chemistry is there for this to be a team with potential to be a contender," says a gushing show insider, "we're very excited by this pairing!"
And, lastly - Jessica Simpson says that winning the role of the head Loompa in the new all-girl version of "Wilhemina Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" was the most exciting thing to happen to her since she learned buffalos don't have wings. The fact that she's already orange was not a major factor in her casting, say the producers of the off-Broadway production.
There you have it - all the news that's news to us, from TIFF teevee, where our motto is "Weak humor is still humor, dagnabbit!"
And, to all y'all Muthas out there - Happy Sunday!
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Where did you go? I miss you. Your cousin, Miss Doublechin, seems to believe that while you’re gone she can hang around, and she's not nearly as good for me as you are. I mean that from the bottom of my heart.
Please come back soon.
Dear New York City Cab Driver,
When you get a chance, would you please look around the back seat of your cab for the 2 years of my life I think I left there during your cross-Bronx interpretation of “Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride?”
I’d be most grateful if you’d mail them back to me at your earliest convenience. Or maybe you could just DRIVE them to North Carolina. At the speeds you travel, and with your intimate sense of vehicular proximity and complete lack of fear, you should make it there from NYC in about 4 hours, I think.
Prematurely Aged Exurban Gal
Dear Big U in NYC,
Your bathrooms suck. My dryer has more space than your single-stall restroom. For such a big prestigious school, I should think you could afford more than six inches of knee room and a door that doesn’t require a death grip to keep closed because it doesn't even lock.
Think about it, won’t you?
Dear Fort Lee Hilton,
I love you.
Seriously, if I could marry you, I would. Your beds are like sleeping in a "me"-shaped cloud, your Italian Resturant makes sinfully good food that comes in a portion large enough for 2 on a plate the colors of a sunny Dutch bedroom, Muhammed your room service guy is funny and sweet and doesn’t expect a tip, your purser - was his name Zoltan? - is personable and helped me pass the time by telling me about his golf vacations while I was waiting for the limo this morning, your teevee is huge and has so many channels worth watching, and even though I stopped to watch Japanese soap operas last night that’s no reflection at ALL on the other fine selections that were available, and your shower has the power to beat sensibility into the most sleep-deprived and business-befuddled guest.
Don’t tell the Holiday Inn down the street, but I think you’re prettier too.
Dear People On The Airplane Who Think that Standing Up In the the Aisle Once the Plane Lands Will Somehow Make The Flight Attendant Open the Door Faster So You Can Talk Importantly On Your Phone While Deplaning,
Now sit down before I take a bite out of that ass you have in my face.
Dear, dear NYC,
You are so heartwrenchingly beautiful in the pink and blue light of dawn. Your complicated profile is thrilling, the thrum of life in your streets and skies is exhilarating, and the rush of possibility in the atmosphere around you is tantalizing There is no place like you on this whole earth; you are the city of my parents and theirs before them, the place of my roots in this country.
It was very very good to see you again.
Image courtesy Kevinfreitas.net.