Monday, August 31, 2009

Observational delusions of grandeur

Today was a good day for staying in bed. Gray, rainy, cool, perfect for sleepin’ in. So of COURSE it’s Monday! Something in me just doesn’t care for the idea of Monday, and that something was working full force today, because I repeatedly ‘snoozed’ both the alarm clock and my cell phone alarm, until the one fateful moment when I turned them both OFF and commenced to sleep some more.

Which, when I woke up at 10 minutes past the time we normally have to leave to get the Things to school, was a huge mistake.

This parental oversight will be blamed on the emergency room visit of last night. Yes, the residual stress of spending a few hours in the local ER just wracked my system, forcing me into psychic overload and flipping the switch from ‘coping’ to ‘sloth.’

I am a delicate flower, apparently.

But hey, Biff leg isn’t broken after all, and we have a shiny new pair of crutches for future use! Score!


Continuing the sleeping theme…

Does anyone NOT like a good ol’ Saturday afternoon nap? If so, I don’t understand them, for the SAN (new acronym, start using it today!) is a gift, a tonic, a savior to the weary masses. Why, just this past Saturday, I partook of the SAN when a headache was getting the better of my energy and patience, and lo, after 90 minutes of ocean-deep sleep, I was restored to my usual sunny-as-a-Greek-island self.

In celebration, we all changed into our swimmies and headed down to the Town pool for a little splash time.

Except….the pool was closed. The hell? They close the pool for CLOUDS these days? I mean sure, it wasn’t the most oppressive of summer days, but still a perfectly swimmable day nonetheless, and there we were, all geared up for aqueous-based funtime with no place to go.

Well, not exactly NO place, which is why the Kenjus had some unexpected guests (hey, we’ve been given carte blanche to their pool, why not use it?) at 5 p.m. on Saturday. It’s nice to have that ace up the sleeve, and it’s even BETTER because the Kenjus are wonderful folks who are also terrific conversationalists. Can’t think of a much better way to spend a couple of hours than a post-swim chat poolside with amiable intelligent people while the kiddoes play.

We were practically a Hallmark moment, is how perfect THAT was.


The Triangle area has, I believe, the largest number of douchey drivers per 1000 people anywhere in the United States. After careful observation, I’ve noted that these twatwaffles either drive a total beatermobile or a real flash vehicle, but nothing in between. I’ve yet to see a Kia ripping across multiple lanes of traffic, or a Prius hovering three feet from my rear bumper.

Is this true where you live, or is it just a curious affectation of the jerkwad drivers in my area?


That’ll close this out for today folks. Here’s hoping your afternoons are in full swing toward closing time! Tiff out.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Don't you love it when a plan comes together?

I called a meeting for today with various players in a process over which I have no authority in order for them to tell me what it is I and the other people in my group are supposed to be doing within their process, because we keep getting calls to contribute to the process and don't know what it is we need to do.

Turns out? The folks who OWN the process (and its subsequent output) don't know what they're supposed to be doing either, and as a result the product they were turning out has been full of holes.

Giant, gaping holes.

Nice to know.

Also nice to know that as a result of this meeting today, the process is going to be re-defined, roles and responsibilites are going to be elucidated for each of the dozen or so moving parts that make up the final product, and proper prep work is going to be undertaken each time the process needs to happen so that what we wind up providing to the regulators is in fact what it ought to be and not a pale shadow full of hopes and dreams.

Man, I LOVE it when something I've done turns out to be the right thing to do.

Now, excuse me while I break both arms patting myself vigorously on the back.


Just so you know, I still suck at running. I shall not let it beat me though, because as JC so sagely counseled the other night: "you KNOW you're capable of doing hard things."

Yes, yes I am. It's just that some outings are harder than others. Sometimes I can barely jog a half mile before my body says 'walk.' That bodily orneriness won't stop me from doing the whole almost-2-mile loop though, because walking is good exercise too, right? It's not 'sweaty oh my God I'm going to cough up a lung calf crampy' exercise, but I have it on good authority (Hi Family Circle!) that walking is every but as good for you as jogging.

Without all the high impactedness too! So there.

Even so, there's something about getting all sweaty that's oddly alluring, and thus while jogging may give up on me, I will not give up on it. Even though I suck at it and sometimes curse the day legs were invented.


What are YOUR love/hate relationships? Do tell us all about it, won't you?

And have a lovely evening.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Cannibal teeth and big ol' melons

Ah - an answer to my recent dental dilemma!

Apparently my teeth are Thompson's teeth!

Because lo, they did gnash and gnaw and render insufficient the restructuring of a previously bitten-off chunk of a back molar, which did prompt me to visit the dentist yesterday (as I alluded to in the baseball-themed post of yesterday).

Yes, Thompsons' teeth, the only teeth strong enough to eat....OTHER TEETH!

Clearly I am a visionary, and hope that this portends well for my fame a thousand years hence. Something must, because what I've been doing thus far will likely not see my name entered into any book of history...


My lack of fame is not like certain recently departed dude, who is already written in the history books for things positive and not. That's right, I'm talking Ted Kennedy, who, among his unfortunate not-positive marks on history is being one of the better examples of what is commonly known as "Big Irish Head Syndrome." Oh yes, ladies and gentlemen, the BIHS is REAL, and affects members of our society of every class, as long as someplace in their history they have a wee drop o' the Irish in them.

Don't know what I'm talking about? WITNESS!

Teddy in 1969:

(^Kind of hot, akshully)

And Recently:

Don't tell me you don't see it - the embiggening of his HEAD to abnormally large proportion over time. He is pratically the poster boy for BIHS, which conicidentlaly I also happen to suffer from (me being a tad Irish and all).

Ah Teddy, if you'd lived to 90, your head would have been too heavy to hold up, I'm sure. God bless ye then that you passed when you did. You fellow BISH sufferers wish you well, and hope like crazy that them being only part Irish will only see their heads expand to a fraction of your final enormous dome.


Gotta run folks. Once again, its Very Busy Day Indeed. Rock your day like an '80's Van Halen!!

Tiff out.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Popcorn! Peanuts! Git cher ice cold Beeyah!

Woke up at 3:16 this morning.

Strike one.

Went right back to sleep after a little biobreak.

Ball one.

Woke up, and didn’t jog, but instead spent some high-quailty one-on-one time with the LOML.

Ball two.

Waited too long to take a shower to get ready to go to the dentist and thus skipped 1) makeup and 2) combing my wet hair and THEN got stuck in traffic and was 10 minutes late to my appoinkment.

Strike two.

At the dentist, the re-filling of my previous filling was FREE, because it really shouldn’t have come out after only a month of being in (but hey, maybe I just have really bad breath and it made a run for it ASAP, who knows?).

Ball three.

Oh noes! It’s a full count, folks! What’ll it be next? Is she gettin’ on base, or is she walking bedraggledly back to the dugout after taking a ferocious but misplaced whiff at the speeding ball of life?

Tiff steps up to the plate, the pitcher winds up, and lets one go. It's a fastball, ladies and gentlemen! Tiff leans back, plants her feet, and swings with all her might – what’ll it be???

Holy Moly! I came into work!

Now, this COULD be a strike, because.... work? It is the suck lately (thus my absence from the intertubez for a while), and it's also honest-to-gawd stee-RYKE material if you’re built to regard a well-paying nicely-benefitted cush job that has occasional bursts of “holy shit I’m in over my head” all while toiling in an air-conditioned building as a bad thing, but really? No.

Friends, it’s totally ball four, and I’m trotting toward first.

Attitude, adjusted.

Friday, August 21, 2009

57 Bucks for pajamas. Sheesh.

The Things, as you may know, take tae kwon do (or do they 'practice' it? I don't know). The Things, you may also know, are still growing boys, which makes purchasing a new ghi (ghee? Again, I don't know), every once in a while a necessity. Just this week it was Thing 1 needing something in the 'skosh more room' variety of martial arts pajamas, and so it came to pass that I wound up shelling out 57 hard-earned American dollars for them.


You can't tell me those folks aren't making money hand over fist.

(And that was too a martial arts joke, with the fist and all. Aint' that a kick?)

(See? I did it again. Whee!)


I'm yawning so much as I write this that I'm tearing up and unhinging my lower jaw about every 15 seconds. A nap sounds like SUCH a nice idea right now.

It's times like this that I sure wish I didn't have such a sense of duty to work, because if I didn't, I'd take the four steps from the kitchen table (my 'office' for today) into the bedroom and fall fast asleep.

Also? I haven't had any caffeine today. I'm mad at the coffeemaker, you see. More and more often it overflows, spilling gritty coffee water all over. No matter how well I clean the equipment, it's becoming more frequent that my 'enjoyment' of the morning's first cup comes from mopping it up off the floor, from the cabinets, out of the silverware tray....and from what I know, topical application of straight coffee doesn't get one nearly caffeinated enough to face yet another workday.

So, HA! coffeemaker. Because I am mad at you, you don't get used! In fact, you got UNPLUGGED and set on the table, far away from your toaster oven and blender buddies. YOU ARE IN TIME OUT, Mister Coffeemaker!

So there.


Biff and I are going out with some friends tonight. It's throwing off my whole rhythym! We're going to be heading out for dinner at 7, followed by maybe some music and tomfoolery, and I'm mentally stumbling over it.

It's weird to have the SOP of pizza night disrupted, is what I'm saying.

(And somewhere in Kabul there is a woman who WISHES she had my problems. I KNOW. Shush!)


Y'all have an impractical day and a highly unlikely weekend. Tiff out. (Probably to go fetch a giant mug of BK Joe and a breath of fresh air. And maybe a 5-hour energy thing, because dang - if I saw someone yawning as much as I am I'd tell them to go home and get some rest already! )

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

A post for no other reason than I said I would do one faster

Hey y'all.

chocolate paste wizards!

indisputable gremlins shenanigans!

forthright certitude!



bold proclamations of moral rectitude!


That's all I got right now. Waking up at 5 a.m. after 4 hours of restless sleep then and being on the run until the right-now time is beating my pasty white ass into a rotten mushy pulp.

But I told Biff I'd beat him to a post. Heh.

And so I have.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

As seen on Fark

While taking a brain break this morning (hey, I'd already worked for 45 minutes, it was TIME) I came across this article on Fark. In case you don't click, it's about how an amusement park in the UK is asking people to keep their arms DOWN on the rides, because of body odor.

Or, 'odour.' The 'u' makes it poncey. Or is it 'pongy,' as one person was quoted as saying to describe the stench?

Either way, y'all, This is big news! There's a heat wave in the UK, it's going to go all the way up to 84F, and English pits are going to be a-reeking at the fun fair!

To this I must say the following:

1) 84F does not a heat wave make

2) deodorant!

3) "Pongy" is my new favorite word

Seriously. Eighty-FOUR? That's like April weather around these parts. People start looking for sweaters when it gets down to that temp! Shoot, anything below 90 is a blessing these days, as currently it's hotter than the hinges of Hades by noon.

And honestly, what is up with the BO issues? I was on the Tube in London a few years back and almost barfed from the smell of some folks. Is it not customary to bathe, or use deodorant there? I thought England was a civilized nation, one with loos and showers and perhaps the odd bidet with which to do the washing-up, but you'd never know it after spending a few minutes crammed into a subway car with a hundred natives (or, mostly natives. It WAS London, the crossroads of humanity). The ladies department at the local Marks and Spencer wasn't bad, and my British coworkers weren't stinky, so maybe it's only the people who ride the Underground that reek?

But still. What do you think the chances are that people who WANT to wave their hands around while riding a roller coaster are going to be all like 'oh, OK then. Right. You've said I shouldn't, and so I won't. Indeed. You have my word that my palms will be firmly affixed to the safety bar at all times. Rightee-ho then. Cheers!' Because in my experience the people who are crazy enough to let go of the one and only thing that stands between them and CERTAIN DEATH are young, insane, and clearly suicidal. These are not people who are rule-bound or particularly authority-friendly, are they? No, no, they are not.

In fact, I can see it now: "Cor mates, let's go to Thorpe Park tomorrow, eh? But first, let's go play a little footie, drink a few pints at the Beheaded Lamb and Pig Shank, smoke a packet of Players unfiltered, eat a curry, sleep off the drink, rub onions under our armpits, and do a particularly exhausting round of calesthenics! THEN we go to Thorpe, ride in the front carriage of the Doom Master, and offend as many people as possible with our goat-stank! What's that? No, Nigel, we're not going to do the flume! Duh!"

And if that didn't happen, I'd be shocked. But not pongy. Of this I am Sure.


You ever been pit-bombed? Do tell us about it, won't you?
And have a lovely day.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

The unrelenting ABCs of me, because 5 tags really IS a message from the FB gawds.

I know - shoot me, but it's a post and it'll show up on FB anyhow and I didn't feel like making it its own note there because I'm frelling LAYZEE, so bite me. Here it is:

A - Age: 47. Holy shit!

B - Bed size: Kween. Big enough to stretch out, small enough that mutually exclusive zones aren't possible.

C - Chore you hate: Cleaning the toilet, for I am very likely the only one who isn't visibly soiling it with God Only Knows What.

D - Don't eat: Yellow snow.

E - Essential start your day item: Coffee. El Pico for now, but our grocery has discontinued it, which is disturbing because it is LOVELY and LUSCIOUS and the GIFT OF LIFE in the morning. Bustelo may have to do from this point on.

F - Favorite board game: Yahtzee. Is that a board game?

G - Gold or Silver: Silver now. Used be an all gold kinda gal, but...things change.

H - Height: 5'10", or at least I was in May when we last measured. I could be shorter now.

I - Instruments you play(ed): Piano from 6 YO until about 14, the Horn from 11 I regret not keeping up with both, for making music is a balm when I don't even know I'm feeling at odds with the world.

J - Work/Job: right now? Medical writer. It pays the bills man, and sometimes the subject matter is gross enough to be interesting.

K - Kid(s): Things 1 and 2 here at the Tiny House, and 2 step kids I've yet to meet.

L - Living arrangements: Just about perfect, thanks for asking. Another bathroom might come in handy, but otherwise I'm a big fan of mega-downsizing.

M - Mom's name: Doris

N - Nicknames: Sweetie, Tiff (duh), Schmumpins, Mom

O- Overnight hospital stay other than birth: partial colectomy, C-section. I think that's it.

P - Pet Peeve: Misplaced apostrophes.

Q - Famous Movie Quote: There are lots of them, right?

R - Right or left handed: Left

S - Sibling(s): 2 brothers - one 2 years and 11 days older than me, and one 2 years and 11 days younger than me.

T - Time you wake up: ALAHP (as late as humanly possible)

U- Underwear: How about NONE?

V - Vegetable favorite: Anything but beets.

W - Ways you run late: Myriad.

X - X-rays you've had: Teeth, uterus, boobs, fingers, toes, BRAIN.

Y - Yummy food you make: Bourbon on the rocks. For everyone else it's hard to tell anymore, being as how my cooking duties have been cut in half or outright shared with the Biffster. I do make really good scrambled eggs. And curry.

Z - Favorite zoo animal: Anything in the tamarin family has my vote. Also hippos.


So, phewf. That took a long time. Hope it was worth it.

Y'all have a good night. There's beer brats and garlic mashed potatoes and green beans waiting to be et, so I must be going. I'll see you tomorrow.

Friday, August 14, 2009

The worst mom in the world

That’s right. I am possibly the worst mom in the world. Do you know why?

I made the Things eat cooked carrots last night!

Surprisingly, there were no tears shed (they’re probably too big for that anyhow(THANK GOD!)), but there sure were a whole buncha groans and slope-shouldered sighs happening.


What's more, I also made peas. I KNOW, the evil is ha-yoodje (say it out loud, my precious darlings) sometimes! Miracle alert: they ate those too. I didn’t even have to loom over them while languidly smacking a ruler against my palm either, which is a nice change.

Who wants to bet that they’re happy tonight is pizza night?


Not-a-newsflash time: the 8-hour workday is a joke.

If I ‘work’ for even 5 of the hours I’m at work, it’d be like a minor miracle. Further, if I was doing PRODUCTIVE work, instead of the e-mails and ‘please can you’s’ and such that take up so much of my time, who knows how much I could get done? Instead I wind up spending half those 5 hours chasing around for stuff that has a small percentage of impact on any finished product, but does NEED to get done because nobody else is in a position to do it. It’s like laundry….you do it, and keep ON doing it, with almost nothing to show for it except lint and a springtime fresh smell in the air.

No, not the work, the laundry. The laundry was serving as an analogy! Stick with me!

Hey, that's not a bad idea though. It would be cool if doing work created a springtime fresh smell. How much more wonderfully could a really dedicated employee demonstrate their hard work than by generating an atmosphere that reminds cube-neighbors of a post-April shower clean world ? BONUS, it’d be a cinch to figure out who was working hardest, because they’d be the best-smelling!

Clearly, this is a genius idea. Someone get on that. Genetic engineers are welcome to a co-development idea as long as I get a cut of the profit that is sure to come once all the right introns and exons are generated and inserted.

But back to my point: 8 hours of consistently productive work a DAY is not actually happening. EVER.

All y’all with the dreaded FTJ (full-time-job) out there - am I a total slacker or is it common for folks to only work a portion of their allotted RDA of hours?


I’m asking a lot of questions today. Does that bother anyone?


Also, sometimes people amaze me. Sometimes with their generosity, sometimes with their mean-spiritedness.

I prefer the former, as you’d expect. I've recently hear about some really shitty things people are doing out of anger or spite, and it's getting me angry at the ignorami who perpetrate the stupidity.

QotD then: What the best thing anyone’s ever done for or to you, or that you’ve heard about? I’m talking about stuff that’s so over-the-top awesome that it plays Boggle with your Brain-pan.

Do tell us about it, won’t you? And have a lovely day.

Tiff out.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Please keep your hands and arms inside the vehicle at all times

I love the word ‘screed.’

Here are the definitions, because I'm sure you're just on the edge of your seat with antici-pation wanting to know:

1 a : a lengthy discourse b : an informal piece of writing (as a personal letter) c : a ranting piece of writing
2 : a strip (as of a plaster of the thickness planned for the coat) laid on as a guide
3 : a leveling device drawn over freshly poured concrete

The potty post of yesterday is a fine example of a screed; fitting all 3 subparts of definition 1. Totally UNPLANNED! Kismet! Actually executing one of my favorite words gets me all tingly.

Other words I enjoy using are as follows: paucity, dearth, atavistic, malapropism, and gunk. You know, in case you’re curious.


There’s this character in Acts named Ananias (<---that's him over there, in the middle!) who lies to Peter and the guys about the selling price of a piece of property, and out of shame (or the mighty fist of God, though it’s not spelled out that clearly) he falls down dead on the spot when verbally castigated by Peter. He gets hauled off and buried almost instantly. A few hours later his wife, who does not know her man has found his final resting place, walks in all “la dee dah, where’s my hubby Ananias then? I must show him the fabulous new scarves I got at the market to-day with the dough we held back from the church. Oh Hi Peter!” and is asked about the selling price of the land, and she says “yep, (the FAKE price) is what we got for it," which didn’t please Peter at all and lo he did give her give her a verbal spanking and she TOO falls down dead on the spot. Suh-MOTE! Presumably also from shame (though again, the fist of an angry God can’t be ruled out completely) at perpetrating the very SECOND lie in the history of the early church (her husband’s being the first).

I KNOW. Such DRAMA! Shock and awe! Fear was struck into the hearts of the church, and rightly so, because dude? If you lie to the ol' Holy Spirit, you’d better believe there will be consequences! Eep!

The name of this very naughty lady? Sapphira.

Which also happens to be the name of Eragon’s dragon (minus one ‘p’).

Try as I might, I cannot make a connection between the two. Can you?

Kitchen tip time! It’s worth it to use rice vinegar if a recipe calls for it. Regular vinegar simply won’t do. An example, for your dining pleasure:

Rice and pea salad, a la Tiff

Serves 4 (or possibly 2 hungry people)

2 cups cooked rice
1 cup frozen peas
¼ cup tahini
¼ cup rice vinegar (NOT spiced)
½ cup fat-free sour cream

Mix the tahini, vinegar, and sour cream together to form a sauce. Add a little water if it’s too thick to pour (acids tend to make tahini thicken dramatically). Mix rice and peas in a serving dish, toss with sauce, let set for up to half an hour to thaw the peas and mingle the flavahs, then serve.

HINT: If you use leftover rice, leave the salad out at RT for an hour or overnight in the fridge to thaw the veg. It’s not BAD if the peas are a little crunchy, but don’t serve them as wee blocks of ice, mmkay?

This has a slightly Asian flavor, and goes great with hot stir-fry dishes like spicy pork. In fact, it goes SO well that we had it twice in a row this week at the Tiny House, which is a shocking development!


With that, I’ll close out this episode of ‘how to blog ADHD style’ by asking you a question - what would you do it you were given $5,000, no strings attached? Do tell in the comments, won't you?

And have a lovely shiny day.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Contains graphic mental imagery and language (Hi Mom!)

Dear nameless female slob who works where I do:

Hi! It’s me, your colleague! It's me, the colleague who just visited the BIG bathroom stall at work (hereinafter known as “my stall”) to conduct a little biznass with the liter of water I’d consumed.

I am also the colleague who is lazy about holding up her pants in her stall because, well, it’s MY STALL and therefore I regard it as reasonably clean, and so? If the pants hit the floor because I am too lazy to hold them up? Not an issue. It’s my stall, you see. Just like home.

It just so happens that I am the same colleague who, in mid-pee, happened to look at the floor of her stall to see an unmistakable splatter on the floor, right by her feet. Quite a big splatter, might I add. You, NFSWWWID, must have really HAD to go! Wow! That's a lot of splatter!

Too bad you couldn’t get more of your pee in the actual toilet, instead of all over the floor of MY STALL. Too bad your overshoot wound up being the same damned place my PANTS were when I let them drop. Too damned bad, because now I’m now wearing pants that have someone else’s PISS ON THEM because you were too fucking LAZY to clean up after yourself and the half-pint of piss you left on the floor. How could you not SEE that, you miserable wretch, you thick layer of cesspool scum, you audaciously incontinent hobo of a woman?

Oh, and about that urine you slung all over the fucking SEAT? Nice touch bitch. I NEVER check that. In the 18 months I’ve worked here I’ve never had the unfortunate experience of not only SITTING in someone else’s piss but actually WEARING it too! Good fucking JOB, you pig, you stain, you responsibility-shirking piece of crap! Is it too hard to wipe up after yourself? Is it too hard to tear off a few pieces of toilet paper and blot up your sullying waste matter? Is it too much to ask of you to be an ADULT and keep the workplace as clean as you found it, you boorish twatwaffle, you pathetic germ, you self-centered child?

I don’t think it IS that hard. Neither does my ASS or my PANTS, which are now suitable for use in identifying you through DNA sampling. If I had the money and the contacts, I might do just that – offer up my ninja trousers to a local lab (this is RTP, you cavernous cootch, WE HAVE LABS HERE!) and ask them to figure out just who it is that has left their double helices all over my stall! And just for laughs, I’ll ask them to check if YOUR DNA is mutated enough to cause paroxysmal retardation like you MUST have experienced just this morning while spattering MY STALL (it cannot be said loudly enough) with your filthy overspray.

You sicken me, you worm. By all that is decent in this world (you NOT INCLUDED), please at once learn to 1) crouch properly if you won’t sit, 2) AIM, for God sake, and 3) clean up after yourself if you DO misfire.


With nausea in my throat for the things to which you have exposed me, your grotesque slovenliness not the least among them though if I catch a disease from your stank-ass then I will FIND you, so help me God,


PS - I really should feel bad for you, because you're obviously not prepared socially to be a part of society, but fuck man, marking your territory by spraying piss all over the place wouldn't make me feel sorry for you if you even if you were a syphilitic moron with bad teeth, hyperhidrosis, and clubfeet. There's simply NO EXCUSE for what you did. I'll bet you smell bad too. And have ugly hair.


Monday, August 10, 2009

Just another Saturday night

Went out to a bar Saturday night. A REAL bar, with a band and people and loudloud music and dancing and ALL! It was a hoot, especially the people-watching thing. Oh, the unlikely couples, the fancy-pants dressers, the dude with a toilet-paper tail…

Yep, fun.

By the time we got home though it was pretty much all I could do to take a shower to get the smoke stink out of my hair and then fall in bed. Can’t party like I used to, dudes. I’m getting old.


The big fun weekend of memory loss also included a vigorous lawn-mowing session. In the sun. The afternoon sun. The afternoon sun that I’m blaming for that fact that I raised 2 blisters on my thumbs, right in the softly folding meaty portion of my poor widdle tumkins. Mmm, blisters. A sign of work being done! HARD work. MANLY work!

And yet I’m just as girly as ever.

Which ain’t sayin’ much.


Weekends are starting to do something weird to my head: they’re making me forget workly work! Like, this morning I came into work and looked at my ‘job board’ and realized that if I didn’t have the job board? I’d completely forget about half of the stuff I’m supposed to do. As it is, I have to take a moment to remind myself what the projects are, what their status is, and who is working on it with me before the universe can right itself and continue spinning on its mysterious invisible axis toward whatever grim fate awaits it.


I’d kind of like to witness the universe ending. It would be cool, I bet. Or, possibly really really HOT, what with the surges of energy that will be released from the gigantic black hole that’s going to swallow us all up once we reach critical velocity and start collapsing in on ourselves in a headlong rush to oblivion. To see the gouts of plasma escaping even the most determined of singularities as it tries to swallow whole the sum total of existence would be a thing of great wonder and sadness, don’t you think?

How far away would you have to stand to safely muse on the view of a supermassive black hole destroying billions of beings, their planets, belief structures, civilizations, hopes and dreams? And would you have to wear protective goggles?

One wonders.


As Jeff Kay says, "I’m all over the place” with this post today. My apologies. I’ve gotten distracted by efforts to try and eradicate some spyware that snuck into my computer this afternoon. Using my VAST SCOPE of knowledge about things computer-y (because the IT guys weren’t answering their phones, FORCING me to take action on my own!), I #1 Put down the chair I was about to bash the damn thing with and then 2) scouted out all anti malware/spyware/icky things software installed on my ‘puter and RAN THEM.

Genius! I'm a tool user!

After a few reboots (all part of the process, you understand), it seems as though the issue is at least partially under control. The pop-ups things aren’t appearing and disappearing down on the lower right side of the screen, and the computer isn’t humming like it’s a kazoo player with lockjaw, and the glow of heat has settled down to a nice burnished umber, so things are looking up!


Now, for some reason, I would like a candy apple.

Mmmm, or a caramel apple.

Is it fruit, or is it dessert? Tell us your thoughts on this most pressing of issues, and have a lovely day.

Friday, August 07, 2009

My fellow Americans

Let me be perfectly clear when I tell you that the questions below were shamelessly stolen from Kenju's Facebook page. The answers are my own, are completely honest, and in no way reflect on my ability to make lucid and cogent decisions or to operate heavy machinery under the Americans with Disabilities Act and the Declaration of Helsinki (1996).

So let's open the ol' closet door and see what skeletons fall out!

1. What's the last thing you put in your mouth? Good thing I just took a sip of coffee!

2. Have you ever kissed anyone named Matthew? No. This must be rectified!

3. Where was your default picture taken? OK, this is a FB thing, so the question is referring to my FB profile picture, and my picture on FB is of a happy baby carrot (<--- See?), which was stolen from the interwebs, so....I don't know.

4. Who was the last person you rode in a car with under the age of 20? The Things

5. Can you play guitar hero? Does Rock Band count? If so, yes. I'm a really bad bass guitarist.

6. Last time you walked further than a block? Yesterday.

7. Name someone that made you laugh today? That'd be Biff. He's good like that.

8. How late did you stay up last night and why? I don't know. After all the booze and pills were gone, the room started getting spinny. Pretty sure I blacked out aa little after 11:30, because it took that long to kick out the midget wrestlers and the troupe of Phreaks who were juggling freeze-dried kittens and chainsawing blocks of cold butter into eerily accurate representations of 14-century Dutch artists.

9. If you could move somewhere else, would you? Sure, after the kids are through school, or if I was filthy rich I wouldn't even wait for that!

10. Ever been kissed under fireworks? Yes. Never over them though. This too must be rectified!

11. Do you believe ex's can be friends? Yes. I've done that with nearly all of mine.

12. Do you like calling or texting better? Calling, in general. I'm kickin' it OLD SKOOL!

13. How do you feel about Diet Dr Pepper? Love the stuff.

14. When was the last time you cried really hard? Can't remember. Last year?

15. Where is your biological father right now? In Arlington National Cemetary, presumably resting comfortably. Hi Dad!

16. Where are you at right now? Where am I AT? I'm AT the point in this quiz where stupid question construction pops out like a jagged rusty nail from an old deck, a trip and fail hazard for completion. Where are you AT, my ghostly white posterior.

BTW - I'm in the living room.

17. What bed did you sleep in last night? My own, once the room stopped spinning and I cleared the dance floor of wayward Thetans.

18. What was the last thing someone bought for you? Um. Hmmmmm. My mother bought most of the house rental at the lake this year (Thanks Mom!), and Biff is good with groceries and potables (Thanks darlin'!)

19. Who took your profile picture? Cyrano de Bergerac, the sly boots. Painted it while I was doing the Herky Jerky with a passel of sapient unicorns on the Leeward Islands last Samhain.

20. Who was the last person you took a picture of? Pretty sure that'd be Biff. Dude is hot, and takes pictures like a pro!

21. Was yesterday better than today? Today is just starting, so opinions are being withheld. As far as hour-by-hour, they're about the same. Except there's no milk in the house. I should do something about that. Oh, and pay the electric bill. And the mortgage. And the water bill. But hey, it's Friday, so there's that.

22. Can you live a day without TV? Sure, but if you try to take away my precioussss internets there will very likely be a stabbin'.

23. Are you a bad influence? I have been called dangerous before, and I love love love to play Devil's Advocate in discussions, so yeah.

24. What items could you not go without during the day? Coffee, a decent bra, the preciousssss internets.

25. Would you share a drink with a stranger? No. I'd GIVE it to them, but their filthy Shane McGowan mouth isn't getting anywhere NEAR my straw or cup. Ew!

26. Who was the last person you visited in the hospital? My mom after her second knee replacement. That's been a long time ago now, so I'm pretty fortunate. I do like the smell of hospitals though. I think it's the bleach and betadine. Is that weird?

27. What does the last text message in your inbox say? "what do you think?"

28. What are you wearing? PJs. Very much like an oversize tee-shirt, it's a Hanes thing and wicked comfy. No lace or bows for THIS gal when she's slobbing around the house. If it aint' cotton, it's rotten, baby.

29. How many times have you been pulled over by the police? A half-dozen or so. And each time, whether it's for a mere license check or I've actually done something wrong (but someone tell me why cutting through 5 lanes of traffic a tire-squealing speeds to get to an exit while chucking beer cans out the back window of a '72 Chevy pickup laden with migrant workers and leaving a plume of smoke and coke dust in your wake is such a BAD THING?), I get TOTALLY amped up on adrenaline and my heart races so fast and hard you can see the pulse beating in my temples. Pretty!

30. If we were to look in your inbox, what would we find? For work - all the shit I still need to do. For all the personal e-mail addys I have - all the shit I'm ignoring.

31. Has anyone ever called you perfect before? Like as in "you think you're so perfect"? Then yes. And I do.

32. What song is stuck in your head? None right now, but that's only because I just evicted this one:

33. Someone knocks on your window at 2 am, who do you want it to be? It had been frikking be JESUS, because everybody else is getting a snootful of angry Australian Shepard. 2 a.m. Best not be creepin' around MY house at that hour, yo.

34. What gets in your way of your sleeping? NOTHING.

35. Who was your last missed call on your cell phone? Biff.

36. Can you handle the truth? Now I can. Any more than about 10 years ago? Hells no.

37. What was the last book you read? "Wicked." LOVED IT.

38. Is there something you always wear? A sunny disposition! And a good bra. If I can find one. Otherwise it's the stretched out purple cotton one that's comfy, but doesn't do much for the cleavage or bustlne. Bustline - what an old-fashioned word. Like 'bosom.' People don't use 'bosom' enough these days, which is a shame.

39. Have you ever crawled through a window? Uh-huh!

40. What’s something that can always make you feel better? A nap.

41. What do you want right now? For it to be 5 p.m. so that work would be over, cocktail hour is about to start, and Biff would be on his way home. Wocka Wocka!!

42. Look behind you, what do you see? A wall. It's bleeding, per usual.

43. Have you ever worked in a food place? Several: McDonalds as a teenager, a couple of bar n' grill places, and the Old Calhouns and The Wilton House in H-burg VA. Enjoyed most of those experiences, though I did have to quit one job tending bar at a Holiday Inn because I hated everything about the job except being able to spend time with my friend Grant who was the night manager and a total hoot. Hanging out with another employee and anxiously awaiting the SLOW times is probably not a good reason to keep a job, so I didn't. I would have gotten fired if I hadn't quit. It was that bad.


Phewf! That took longer to do than I expected. Sometimes it takes a while to wrestle the truth from the gnashing jaws of a good story! Forty three questions later, I'm wrung out from the effort and so will close with this:

Have a glorious day and a hangover-free weekend. You are dismissed.

Thursday, August 06, 2009


Anyone recall how in my last post I was talking about the 'right' time to leave for school, and how leaving earlier wasn't any better than leaving with justenough time to get there because leaving earlier means that we just sit in a long line of cars, inching toward the drop zone?

Yeah......About that.

Seems that teachers tend to notice when your kid is consistently 5 minutes late getting to home room. Seems that when they notice, they tend to get all phone call-y and whatnot, and even if they're very nice about it, they have that teacherly voice that causes instant puckering.

I guess getting Thing 2 through the school doors at exactly on time isn't good enough. His butt must be planted in his actual seat at 8:05, which now of course means we have to leave home at least a half an hour before school starts to make the 10-minute drive to wait 15 minutes in line to get him in the door, to the band room (to drop off his horn, which is the thing that was making him late to homeroom. (HOMEROOM! It's not even a class! (but I digress))) and then to class by 8:05. At the latest.

Or...he can start taking the bus, because you know what? It doesn't matter what time bus kids get to school - they are NEVER LATE.

School policy, you know. Never mind that the car pool parents are sitting in the same GD traffic the busses are, it's only the bus kids that are forgiven.

Yeah, the bus is looking better and better.


Oh, the reason he's not taking the bus now is that I thought it came far too early in the morning. Seems like recent developments are making that line of thought somewhat 'quaint.'

So many things in life are not nearly as straightforward as I'd like them to be.


GRAPHIC CONTENT ALERT: Don't read this next bit if you're eating, have a sensitive stomach, or don't find other people's ailments fascinating in a kind of weird way.

Did you know that gastrointestinal transit times of about 2 hours from eating to elimination are entirely possible? And that when such abridged processing spans occur what comes out feels like you're sharting pickled jalapenos?

(Grant, I bet YOU do.)

Makes one start looking for a pot of sour cream to keep in the crapper.

Stupid paroxysmally hyperactive intestines.


Well, time to go make the best of this gloomy gray day we got workin' here. A trip downtown to the public utilities orifice is planned for the luncheon hour, but otherwise my dimpled ass is stuck on the couch, the laptop is a-hummin', and I'll be trying my very best to be productive.

Y'all have a good one.

Tuesday, August 04, 2009

Jogging mojo, crabby Commuting, and parental advice.

Woke up this morning in a pissy mood.

The pissy mood was a direct result of the dreams I was having. Some of y’all know about my dreams, how vivid and real they are, and the lot of them that 'showed' last night were among the most vivid and distressing I’ve had, which is saying something, and involved, among other things 1) public naked backrubs, 2) open stairways, 3) poor real estate choices, and 4) family snippiness. Not a melange of rainbows and puppies at all, much more a stew of ill feelings, self-doubt, and astonishment at the rudeness of most EVERYBODY in the dreams.

(I mean really...if you're going to give your girlfriend a rubdown in the FRONT YARD of your house while oily and naked, do NOT tell me the oversized silk flower you have positioned aginst your ass crack is 'proper coverage according to town ordinance,' because Missy, it is NOT, and you're just putting on a salcious show not only for your dozen half-naked acolytes who are crouched on your walk but also to the neightbors and very interested passers-by, some of who include 1) my husband and 2) my kids, neither of whom I much care to be seeing your admittedly delicious body undulating aginst the equally yummy body of your same-sex lover. Just TAKE IT IN THE BACK YARD, bitch! You're giving me a complex!

Any of you who'd like to borrow this dream, feel free. I am SO done with it)

I'm sure I'm like about 90% of the population in that I don’t care for being pissed off on awakening, so I did the only reasonable thing in those circumstances – I went jogging.

Shush with your gasps of aghastitude, dear reader! Anger is a wonderful powerhouse for physical activity. It’s too bad I’m not angry more often, or I’d be as hardbodied as Scary Spice.

Normally I can only jog for a few minutes at a time, begging for rest at the 5-minute mark (or, about a third of a mile). Today, after strapping on my new steel-belted sports bra and other runnerly accoutrements, I went over a half a mile before taking a walk break of a BLOCK, then started running again the 0.6 miles home.

Keep your snickering down in the back. Jogging over a half a mile at ONCE, for me, is HUGE. Yes, I’m as slow as a paralytic turtle, and yes, I was pouring sweat when I was done, but dammit, that was at least twice as far as I’ve gone before and it.felt.wonderful.

What can I get ticked off about tomorrow morning, I wonder? Suggestions?


Note to self: it does not pay to leave the house 10 minutes earlier to drop off Thing 2 at school. Those 10 minutes will be spent waiting in the frigging car conga line, watching the minutes tick by, NOT depositing him into the loving embrace of his scholarly pursuits one second sooner than if you’d left with barely enough time to make it there.

At t-minus 2 minutes, the time we normally get to school, there is no line. Magick!

This is all the more important to adhere to because those extra 10 minutes could have been spent quaffing a second cup of high-test caffeinated beverage.

Stupid suburban parents and their NEED to be in my space.


Note to all y’all: If you know your child has the same name as another child at their school, much like poor Thing 1 does, make SURE, when the school calls looking for your kid who hasn’t shown up to, oh, say…BAND CAMP, that they’re not actually looking for the other kid FIRST, before you race off to said camp muttering about how you don’t remember officially signing you kid UP for oh, say…..BAND CAMP and now you’re doubting your memory and wondering if in a year or so you’ll be the one talking to your shoes and wearing potted plants as hats.

Just sayin’.

With that sage advice in your purse of wisdom, I leave you and hope you have a sparkly day.

Monday, August 03, 2009

Amusing, or UNCANNY?

Herein, my Chinese Horoscope (Thanks to Tracy Lynn for the prompt to foray into Eastern mysticism as a blog post). Author's thoughts are in italics.


Feb 5, 1962 to Jan 24, 1963

Tiger people are sympathetic, kind, emotional, and sensitive. At movies, they can cry their eyes out! (Especially if Adam Sandler is in it. Or Kate Hudson. They’re just THAT GOOD)

Despite their kindness, they can be extremely short-tempered. The rage of Tigers is terrible to behold but it also gives them the adrenaline needed for the sublimest of bravery. (I used to think it was foolhardiness, but now? SUBLIME BRAVEY!)

The Tiger is also a deep thinker and can make the most astonishing intellectual connections (look Ma, I can form a thought!), with great mental agility (SQUIRREL!).

On the negative side, they tend to be suspicious and a bit self-centered, OK selfish, and indecisive. Above everything, however, the Tiger stands as a supreme emblem of protection over human life, admirable always. (A lot to live up to, I know, but hey, we Tigers just roll like dat. Who's up for a paw-bump?)

Soup and Oolong Tea are among the keys to good health (well THAT’S good to know. Make mine broccoli cheddar).

Water Tigers do not go gently into the night. Full of intelligence bordering on genius, they imagine a beautiful world and know how to create it.(No comment required. It's all TRUE, esp that there genius part. Squee!)

Never liking to be alone, the gregarious Tigers surround themselves with loyal friends who lend their undying support. With such support, they can't help but prosper.(Sweet, my friends are partly responsible for my success. How awesome. Let me just go tell them of this new facet of our relationship. I'm sure they'll be THRILLED! Hey, internet peeps? This is your warning.)

A mercurial nature sometimes makes them antsy, impatient, and quarrelsome over little things (VINDICATION! I'm not selfish, I'm a water tiger! RAWR!!). They do react very quickly, but also get over any ill feeling just as quickly. They are generally fair, humane, and quite reasonable in their dealings with people. They absolutely excel in the business world (This needs to go on my resume, ASAP).

Love for the Water Tiger is like a restless rogue, flitting about like a butterfly. You see, these Tigers are gypsies, always on the lookout for something better down the road, fickle to the core. Smart potential mates can catch them; however, and once this happens, Water Tigers are capable of experiencing the normal highs and lows of love (well, ain’t that a kick in the pants? droll. Way to end on a high note there, Chinese Horoscope people.).


I'd be interested to know what YOU are, if you think what the good folks of the Chinese Horoscope world have to say about you. Google it (because stupid work servers have distilled my posting ability to basically 1988-level typery...), and let me know, won't you?

Then have a lovely day.