On being a jerk.

Lately I've had trouble with sleeping. I will be tantalizingly close to asleep when, I'm falling! I flail in bed, safe and sound.

Or I'll be sleeping and then whoomp! I've slipped on a banana peel.

This is apparently called a Hypnic Jerk. Scientists are not sure why this happens but it happens most frequently when you have irregular sleep patterns... such as dog sitting in stranger's houses, or staying up too late to finish up that last episode of Dr. Who.

I guess the entire point of this post is that I am clumsy, even in my sleep.

And that, my friends is my awesome story about sleeping.

McDonalds, you rock the crazy.

Today I ordered an Egg McMuffin and a chocolate milk and for 2 cents LESS I could have had a hashbrown too.

Thanks, but no. I will pay McDonalds 2 cents and save myself 140 calories (72 of which are from fat).

Tim Tams at Target NOW.

Tim Tams are available through March at Target!

Yay!

Kiss it, 2008!

I am unreasonably excited about the demise of 2008. I have not been particularly pleased with this year. It has just pretty much sucked. Everyone I know was in danger of losing their jobs (including me) and many did. It was an ugly political year in which things were said, and not just by the candidates, that made me unhappy and uncomfortable. Watching the world economy yo-yo all over the place made me worry about my future. There were big adjustments in my personal life, which are mostly fine now, but greatly contributed to a year of over-all unpredictable scariness.

It also snowed like a mother-fuck, which did not help.

I did make some new friends, but 2008 saw vast changes in my relationships with current friends. And to quote the immortal Garth, "We fear change."

There will likely be big changes in 2009. But it is my fondest hope that rather than being crippled with two months of anxiety induced hermitage, I will be able to control the new directions in my life.

I'm hoping that 2009 will bring a new plan. A carefully thought out, well graphed plan, possibly utilizing Excel. With the end of my student loans this year, comes the end of my excuses for not just dropping everything and moving to Spain. Or going back to school. Or joining the circus. By the end of 2009 I won't owe anyone anything.

In 2009 perhaps all the blooming hope for my future will inspire me to do the opposite of what I did this year in my personal life (neglect, shut out, and generally weaken friendships) and instead grow to be a better friend. I hope that this year I will have the courage to not push people away.

2009 will by my first full year as an auntie. I hope that it will also be my first full year as a sister. I hope next year I can forgive myself for not being the sister I should have been the previous 19.

This year I want to be better, do better, dream bigger. Be a better friend, be a better child, be a better worker, and care more about being better.

I do not want a vanilla new year. I want a big delicious sundae new year. With everything on it. I want a 2009 so great that it completely obliterates the memory of 2008 with sheer awesomeness.

I know this sounds resolutiony. But this is not my resolution. My resolution, like that of all women between 25 and dead, is to loose some weight. But my plan is to be better. To live better.

So enjoy the last days of 2008 (as much as possible). I will spend them planning, scheming, and perhaps graphing to prepare myself for a better year and another step into a better future.

Thanks for reading, and a preemptive Happy New Year.

Ho ho ho.

Merry Christmas all! Sorry I've been a Christmas blogging slacker!

I hope you all have safe and lovely holidays!

Stupid frozen water!

Do I get extra credit for going to work today?

I should!

There were only 20 people there.

No? No extra credit? Fine. Here, you watch this terrifying Japanese footage of a bioluminescent deep-sea siphonophore.

Good luck trying to sleep, suckers.

Ponchito is worrisomely tiny.

Doctors say he should be fine, but he is so little and has to stay at the hospital till April.



















So far today:
- a friend needed me to watch her kids while she was in the emergency room
- a friend needed to be rescued from the airport
- my brother is father to a 1 lb 11 oz baby two months premature a thousand miles away

I cannot help my brother, I can't even get out of my driveway.

I feel absolutely impotent.

Ponchito has arrived.

My brother's baby was born prematurely due to a medical issue (apparently not too serious) and I am thousands of miles away and up to my shins in snow.

Jayce Anthony (or maybe Anthony Jayce- the kids are still sorting it out) was born earlier this morning.

Other famous JCs include Julius Caesar and Jesus Christ.

In other news, I am just pleased that they didn't really name him Ponchito.

I guess I am officially that crummy auntie that lives too far away and never calls. I guess I should mail them something noisy.

Update: Anthony Jayce.

Kinda Good Kinda Bad

Today I found out that I am unlikely to be laid off at the end of the fiscal year. Something that looked very very likely a few weeks ago.

I didn't mention it because I don't like to whinge. And I have to admit that there was a tiny bit of me that was nervously excited about fate doing what I have long considered doing. I love my coworkers and as jobs go, mine is not bad. I can't say I'm unhappy.

I would like something more challenging and I'm ashamed to say that I would like to get paid more. (Although I don't know why. I would just waste the money on clothes and expensive cooking gadgets. And maybe a new car.)

The key problem is just that I can't think of another thing I would like to do. I've always been a modest dreamer, and I hate to say it, but I am just so grateful that my life has gone this miraculously well so far that it is even hard for me to think of things that could be better.

Sometimes being happy gets in the way.

Without a plan for something greater I could never quit my job, but if my job were to disappear it would be freeing. (Though I do not have the savings to bear the expense.)

Anyway, so I am happy/sad, but mostly happy and who could ask for more?

So can we talk?

About how I am a terrible person?

Great.

So I'm watching these Christmas specials and the anti-communist propaganda is hilarious.
No toys! The bad guys are always opposed to objects, but then Santa comes and brings them flashy stuff and they are liberated. You know guys, stuff is the key to happiness!

How silly.

Additionally, if Santa started out as just some guy who shows up in town with a bag of toys, which he gives to children, if they sit on his lap. I would kick that guy's ass and leave him at the edge of the road out of town. Frontier justice. Yeehaw!

In short, I think I am thinking too hard about these shows.

Burgermeister Meisterburger

So, while not snowed in, I'm scared of leaving the house and getting snowed out, so I've been e-commuting today. I made homemade buttermilk pancakes this morning, and since then I've been watching Tivo'd Christmas specials and filling out tedious affidavits all day.

(Christmas specials viewed so far this season: Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer 1 & 2, Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, Garfield Christmas Special, Santa Claus is Coming to Town, Twas the Night Before Christmas, Nestor the Long Eared Christmas Donkey, and the Real Ghostbusters Christmas Special.)

(On the Tivo still, Mickey's Christmas Carol, Muppet's Letters to Santa, Charlie Brown Christmas, Miser Brothers' Christmas, Olive the Other Reindeer, the Year without Santa Claus, Winnie the Pooh and Christmas too, Mickey's Twice Upon a Christmas, I Want a Dog for Christmas, Charlie Brown!, and the original How the Grinch Stole Christmas.)

(I'm missing Frosty the Snowman, Emmet Otter, Muppet Family Christmas, Little Drummer Boy. :(

Anyway.

As it turns out, when nobody goes into the office and emails me to ask for things, there is very little for me to do, which is making me feel appallingly slackery.

I guess if I were in the office I would simply be working on the same affidavits, so I shouldn't complain.

In other not-news, my remaining plans for the day:
Christmas Jello
Lemon Bars
A bubble bath
Comics
Muppet Christmas Carol
Scrooged
And something girly as yet to be determined

It is beautiful outside. I'm nice and warm.

I hope you are all safe and warm today too.

Muppet Videos to Prepare you for Tomorrow

Letters to Santa, be there or be square. Tomorrow.

Dear Workplace,

Please do not believe that because I (1) love Christmas and (2) am in a slow work week that I would like to organize a last-minute divisional potluck.

You see, coworkers, a potluck cannot occur at the last minute. I don't know about you, but I have every remaining moment of free time prior to Christmas double scheduled and the remaining time I plan to devote to:
1. making cookies for people I don't hate
2. drinking heavily and watching the 27 Christmas specials I have painstakingly Tivo'd
3. Repeating zen mantras to get me through the holidays

Furthermore you don't understand potlucks. A potluck is where people cook (NOT buy something from the QFC deli). Where potlucking responsibilities are carefully planned out so that the appropriate amount and type of food is procured and cooked AT HOME. Otherwise you have cake on the breakroom counter for over a week. (Do not act like you don't know what I'm talking about. This morning I threw out some crappy store bought cake from last TUESDAY.)

Additionally, I need time to prepare for events where I have to pretend to have fun. It takes HOURS of time in front of a mirror practicing appropriate facial expressions for responses to such conversational topics as:
-Useless single men you know (elbow eh eh eh)
-Unresearched political beliefs
-Your pets and the hi-larious things they do
-Why things now are not as awesome as twenty years ago
-Your children, any topic, but for example pooping or how they pronounce various words
-The da Vinci Code, Harry Potter, Twilight, or whatever book fad is striking those who don't read for fun

Your alternate plan during the economic downturn is to go to a fancy restaurant where we will each buy our own lunch. Thanks, superiors who make 2-4 times what I make, I would love to go to a seafood restaurant (blech) and pay $25 for salmon and sit with people I'm forced to pretend to like 40 hours a week. Being coerced to attend and pay for holiday events makes me filled with Ho Ho Holiday Spirit!

Things I would rather do than chase you around with a potluck sign in sheet:
1. Sex with Carrot Top.
2. Spider bathing.
3. Actual death by chocolate.

So to conclude, BA HUMBUG. (But only at work, at home it is all, let's make rum balls and watch Nestor the Long Eared Christmas Donkey.)

Two Thumbs Up

It is not every day when another driver rolls down their window and yells "Nice driving!" and doesn't really mean, "I hope you get that flesh eating bacteria and die, Asshole!", but today was my day.

Kim and I had been looking forward to a trip to the I-District all week and as the nearest freeway entrance is at the bottom of a very icy very steep hill I sensibly decided to take a more flat route to the highway.

Everything was hunkie dorrie till we came to a downward slope and the car in front of me thought, "Dur dur dur I'd better hit my breaks." Which sent him sliding towards the curb, where he ricocheted off and careened straight at me. Seeing this caused me to swerve and break, sliding elegantly into the opposing lane, then back at the curb, then all the way over and all the way back to the curb, finally gaining control as the car behind me slid with greater speed (stupid stupid stupid) toward our car until it smashed into the curb and got lodged there.

We gently pulled into the turn lane and as we waited to take the left an SUV pulled along side us and a smiling man leaned out his window, gave us the double thumbs up and yelled "Nice driving!" waved and drove away.

Thanks fellow drivers for the award for not being a total dumbass, it was an honor just to be nominated. I'd also like to give a shout out to Kim for staying absolutely silent through the whole episode, unlike most of my friends (looking at you, Steve) who would have squeeled like Swiss school girls.

Blardy Blar Blar

I feel as though I should make some sort of comment. Since I haven't been good at updating lately.

Don't have much, because things are awesome.

My mom was laid off and then got a job. So that is a big thumbs up.

I got surprise presents today. (Yay Angie!)

Christmas is shaping up nicely. I haven't started cookies really, but I am confident cookies will happen to a sufficient extent. Presents wrapped. (check!) House decorated sufficiently enough to make the neighbors look lame. (check!) Holiday cheer locked down against all odds. (check, check, checkety check!)

I just feel very content. I hope you guys are doing well too.

Amusements.

There is a new Muppet Christmas Special this year, Letters to Santa. 12/17 on NBC. Cute music video promotion for the special:



The Proposal. New rom-com I will undoubtedly secretly view and enjoy.

Best ever use of internet: Baker Street/Turkish Walrus Mashup.

Just Pondering

Lately I've had to explain to people why a Christian woman (not me) might not want to date a particular friend of mine. I think a lot of people want to believe that people don't date outside their religions becase they are prejudiced.

I don't know about you, but when someone wants to be mine I would appreciate it if they didn't think my life view was a deluded attempt to invent scenarios to avoid the finality of death. I'd hope that the person I would want to be with would respect my beliefs. I'm not saying that not sharing my beliefs is equivalent to not respecting them, but when I need to make a team to face the unpredictability of life, I would like someone who has the same GM. You know what I mean?

I got nuthin. You know, title-wise.

But here goes the post!

Amusing bacon commercial:



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Hey, just a reminder buying coke kills children. No kidding. Thanks Washington Post!

------

In other news, Jim and I cut down a tree at what Jeanine described as "Charlie Brown's Tree Farm". And it was awesome. Our tree could kick your tree's ass. I just thought that you might want to know that.

That is all.

Links- now with exposed naughty bits.

3 links of interest today:

1. Via Jezebel- Anne Hathaway was on the Daily Show yesterday and confessed to her no-longer secret crush on John Stewart. Why does Stewart always seem unbelieving that women find him attractive?

2. Via io9- John Barrowman apparently exposed himself on the BBC. Now I'm not into junk viewing myself, but apparently this can be viewed by following some link on the article.

3. Also via io9- Guillermo Del Toro is directing a new Roald Dahl's The Witches (easily one of my favorite/most terrifying childhood books). Now I will be edge-of-seat style waiting. (Yay!)

Interesting article in NYT last week.

Netflix is offering one million dollars to anyone who can improve their movie recommendation engine by 10% or more.

Thank God, because some times Netflix recommends things that are not OK. (Really, you think I want to watch "Expelled: No Inteligence Allowed"? Netflix, words hurt.)

Read all about it at NYT.

Dean Kamen, you minx!

Are you trying to impress me?

Now North Dumpling Island is energy self-sufficient? Le sigh. You know, you do not have to work so hard to win my affections. You had me at AutoSyringe.

(SUC- for all your obsessive crushes on supergenius related needs.)

Happy Thanksgiving!

Hopefully things are going splendidly for all today.

This year I am thankful for:
1. Having a job. I'm very blessed to not have been laid off.
2. Having a family that loves me. (Even if sometimes I think that they are trying to kill me by annoying me to death.)
3. Good friends, and lots of them. (Even if some of them deserve a nice face punching lately.)
4. NKOTB.

In Thanksgiving news, here is a lengthy article about the not-so-appetizing Thanksgiving food on the Space Station. They say it is kind of gross, but I think in this case it is location, location, location. Dude, you guys are eating rehydrated yams, but you are eating them IN SPACE. My food will be amply delicious, but I will be eating it sandwiched between my great grandma and 13 year old cousin who eats like the Beast in Disney's Beaty & The Beast, before he learned to use flatware.

In non-thanksgiving news:

Best article title today: Japan Polar Bear Mating Stymied by Gender Mixup.
Not it for checking the gender on polar bears. Apparently long fur obscures their sex organs making it difficult to tell the gender of a polar bear (and one assumes the fact that they are 1500 pound killing machines does not help either). Although I think that when you go to breed polar bears, it helps to know what you are starting with.
("Author's" note: there is some bush joke in there somewhere, but I'm tired, so sorry about missing that.)

A brief article about the Tesla electric car. The car for wealthy nerds. *sigh* Why can't I be as wealthy as I am nerdy?
Answer: Not enough money available?

Meep!

I'm a little obsessed with sea creatures. I also am scared of drowning, being stung, etc. etc. (You know, sea creaturey things.

There is video at io9 of a rare (and creepy) Magnapinna. I've never heard of such a thing, but it is a [terrifying] squid.

Hopefully NOT the fickle hand of fate.

This morning as I groggily pushed my birth control pill from its protective bubble package it flew out as though propelled by numerous warp drives.
Pichooooo! it richocheteed off the planter, to the counter where it bounced off the counter and ploonk, right into the toilet.

I feel like to odds of this occurrence are something like 3 bazillion to 1. So I took tomorrow’s pill today and will continue along that path till the pack is done, but part of me can’t help but feel that I am somehow DOOMED.

Vampire Moths.

Yea, you heard me.

National Geographic has a brief video on Russian Blood Sucking Moths, wrote local blogger before keeling over and dying of sheer horror.

Nature= very scary/amazing stuff.

Awesome video from Discovery Science about a giant ant colony that scientists fill with cement to learn what it actually looks like.



It looks like AWESOME.

Thinking about nerdy stuff.

1. Spiders are loose in space and no doubt in the midst of negotiating our undoing with alien spiders. Read all about our eminent demise on i09.

2. Nature and robots distract each other, possibly delaying the naturepocolypse and robopocalypse.


3. Nerd creates Bike Hero.


4. There is a rumor of Tremors 5 aka Tremors: The Thunder From Down Under. Be still my b-movie heart!

5. Check out the Classic Tales Podcast for creepy story fun. It is good stuff! I think I should learn to read well aloud. That would be pretty spiffy.

Carrying deadly plagues makes me over emotional.

I'm saddened by the loss of 2 out of the 3 new shows I was watching, Valentine and My Own Worst Enemy. I think that it is a shame that they failed to promote then buried Valentine, which was the second most adorable thing on TV. I also think that it is a waste to have canceled My Own Worst Enemy, which I thought was very well made. I particularly enjoyed all the interesting questions that the show provoked. Who is he really working for and does it matter if the group is unethical if it is defending American "Ideals". Who is real? Or are both personalities real because they both exist?

So now the only new show I am watching is Fringe. I'm glad it is not being canceled because I enjoy it more with every new episode.

Which brings me two thoughts:
1. Someone is watching Knight Rider? Or rather enough people are watching Knight Rider that they aren't cancelling it. COME ON! Pushing Daises may be canceled and KNIGHT RIDER is still on the air? I call shenanigans.
2. Isn't expensive to create new shows? Wouldn't it have been cheaper to leave these two shows on the air? I'm just saying.
********
Perhaps to make up for stealing all the good TV, Haagen-Dazs has released a new flavor: Fleur de Sel Caramel Ice Cream. Yes caramel ice cream with a caramel ribbon, and small chocolate covered salted carmels. Oh HEAVEN. RAWR.
********
In other news, on the NKOTB CD, The Block, there is a song called "Sexify My Love" in which they rhyme 'concentrate', 'consumate', and 'conversate'. I have not yet decided if that is unbelievably awful or awesome. Also on The Block there is a song about convinving your lady friend to tape sex acts. I mean compared to current songs like anything by Usher that is not so bad. But parts where he says "Baby, I'm gonna make you a star" just sound so exploitative.

On the other other hand, I will (if there is any justice in the world) be rocking out to the numerous steps it would take to get to you, 'gur-ur-ur-url' in less than 4 days. Yay!

Your brains are safe for now...

maybe. Unless this is like in the movies when the victim rallies right before they die, then lurch back to life jaws a'snapp'n.

I seem to be recovering nicely from my brush with death. I know you were all deeply concerned.

I was quite worried because this Saturday is NKOTB Saturday. There will be unhealthy food, numerous cocktails, and ridiculous girlish shenanigans. I need to be at full Quiana power to handle this kind of excitement. Wait for pix! Teehee. Yay!

In other news I watched The Quantum of Solace, which I really liked. You should watch it too. Going to the movies yesterday made me just as exhausted as working for 8 hours today, which either says that I am recovering well OR that work is just butt-sitting.

Where was I going with this?

No idea whatsoever.

Recap:
1. Not dead.
2. NKOTB!
3. 007= good times.

And that was my awesome story about uhm... nothing.

Suck it, NaBloPoMo.

I'm sure that you have all figured it out. I am yet again ill. Quite ill. Darwin was wrong. If there was such a thing as natural selection I would have been de-selected because I am sick all the damn time. I fear I am a cull. Destined by Western justice to be cut off from the herd and made into deliciously tender and pitiful steaks.

Here are some observations from the crypt:

1. Came home from work very sick and fatigued and decided that a pb&j and a 14 hour nap were in order. Mixing mixing mixing my home-made jam, which had separated just a bit, when I hear/feel a smash/sploosh. I look down, the jar is in my hand. Look at the floor, the better part of a jar of jam is down there. (There being the oven door, cupboards, my pants, shoes, and the beige floor tiles with WHITE grout.) Apparently the bottom of the glass jar dropped right out, in a perfect hockey puck-esque whole and shattered on the ground. I then spent the next 45 minutes sniffling and cleaning everything in the kitchen of glass shard/strawberry jam. (That is the kind of jam you make for very bad people.)

2. Watched many (two a day) episodes of the show Las Vegas strictly because Tom Selleck is on that show. (OMG you guys, TOM SELLECK!) I cannot decide if this show is not that bad or if I am so acclimated to the sultery sounds of TS's voice that I think it is good.

3. My very kind roommate brought home a few comics from my box at The Comic Stop and after hungerly devouring them I had the most terrifying feverish nightmares you could possibly imagine. What better to give you good dreams than a potent mix of cold medicine, fever and The Walking Dead. Oh good times!

4. So I've missed something like 6 days of work over the last two weeks. I can't wait to get back to the office. It is going to be awesome. AWESOME.

5. Things I am not looking forward to:
- twenty 13 year old boys at robot club tomorrow am.
- twenty 13 year old boys at an extended by one hour robot club tomorrow am.
- leaving the house (not accomplished since Tuesday am)
- work

6. Things I am looking forward to:
-NKOTB
-NKOTB
-NKOTB
- Breathing through my nose

7. When I am sick all I want to do is sleep and shove delicious tortilla chips and cookies in my mouth. That is pretty much all I want to do. I will be 300 pounds when I regain my 'health'. (Still mysteriously single.)

8. My nose hurts.

That is all.

I know I sound nerdy;

Written early a.m. November 4th. Not published for reasons of attempting to stave off the cold I was catching through (literal) days of mostly sleep.

This is because I am a nerd.

It was very gratifying to be carefully guided to the ballot drop box at the library yesterday. To receive my stickery reward. (I love to see grown men parade around in their voter stickers like I once did with puffy Ewoks.)

It made me feel very happy.

This year I had an option to vote for a person of color for the office of the President of the United States of America. What an amazing thing, just a few decades from desegregation. Just a few years from venturing to Florida with my black ex-boyfriend and finding out, to my surprise, that Florida is in The South.

Being a mixed race person myself, I have encountered many awkward situations involving race, but I had never heard a over six foot tall nearly 30 year old man called “boy”. Never having heard someone say “nigger” (which I am almost too ashamed to write) outside of a TV or movie screen. It easy to forget or never even realize from New York and Seattle that there are still places like The South.

It feels like over night just enough people have evolved to understand what the truth is. Just enough to get a person of color on the ballot for a major party.

Maybe just enough to elect him? Enough to persuade the citizens of other countries and even our own that not everyone in America is stuffed with stale ideas and chubby morsels of hate like fat little worms?

I hope so.

I know that I’m not one of those die hard Obama fans (who will soon be gnashing their teeth when they find out that Obama is just a politician), but it is nice to have a little hope for a change. Not political or economic hope. Just a sliver of hope for Americans as people.

Confusing!

So, I think I mentioned that I've always believed I was Irish (with a little Scott)/Native, Croatian/black.

And here is the thing, I look Croatian to actual Croatians.
I don't look black.
I don't look particularly Native (though I am going prematurely gray).
And I don't look very Irish.

















See, Croatian. Right? (Also, sidenote: Does my head look small to you too?) (Second sidenote: Isn't it nice that the picture cuts off right before any dangerous cleave sightings? That dress was too plungy and in every other picture it was like "Oh, there's me and Mebbie and Righty." Good times.)

Well, apparently my whole life my Mom had merely guesstimated and as it turns out I'm actually Romanian.

Shit, you guys. I don't know what Romanians even look like. I don't know a single Romanian. I know many Croatians and they look like me.

I have been in Croatian-drag for nearly 3 decades.

I am cognisant that the difference between one former Axis nation and the other is something like the distance in miles from Reno to Seattle.

But having grown up with essentially no racial identity, I really really have none now. With so little to call my own, I'm going to miss Croatian me.

Kamen, Kamen, Kamen! All Kamen; All the Time!

I don't want you guys thinking that all I do is sit around all day and Google (RAWR) Dean Kamen. But there is a lengthy and very interesting article about Dean Kamen in the Telegraph:
Dean Kamen: part man, part machine.

I'm pretty sure which part is the machine. (RAWR!)

Interesting (to me) niblet:
Kamen did spend nearly eight years sharing his home with a girlfriend he met in 1994, but now lives alone. He's decided that he doesn't want to have a family: 'I would rather not be married than ever risk failing at that. It's not like failing at a project: pick yourself up, do another project. But if you have kids and you fail as a father... that's an unrecoverable failure in my mind. I wouldn't want that to happen.'

I think it is a little sad that a guy who takes so many risks and is focused on making products that are needed, but will make him little money (i.e. water and electricity for developing nations) is scared of that risk. On the other hand, perhaps Kamen just knows his strengths and weaknesses.

At any rate, I'm pretty sure that the important thing is that Dean Kamen is single.

Dean,

We don't have to get married. All this girl needs is robot penguin bartenders to serve me perfect martinis. I will accept adorable robots in lieu of marital commitments. (Still single! Tell your friends! But only if they are geniuses! With their own islands!)

Hugs!
q.

Additionally, as I had always suspected, Kamen does wear the same outfit all the time. Thanks, Telegraph! Your article contained exactly the two pieces of information in which I was most interested.

Word of the day: Upset

Upset, (ˌ)əp-ˈset: emotionally disturbed or agitated

Example: Quiana was so 'upset' when her temporary crown broke in half at dinner tonight that she could not finish her cannoli.

See also: 'angry with the world', 'pissed', and 'hurty faced'.

Here is where I blather about nothing:

1. Jim and I started watching Valentine. On the CW… with the Greek gods… starring the stalkery girlfriend from Dexter…. Is anyone watching this? Anyone? Just us. Great.
If you like fun, you should watch this show. If you don’t like fun, there is always ER. (Zing!)

2. Halloween approaches and I am stoked. My costume is 90% complete, so that is excitement right there. Now we just have some baking and decorating left. Mmmmmmmm baking (and the required taste testing).

3. I am throwing myself into winter hibernation mode with abandon. Yesterday (pretty much the whole day) I watched TV and drank delicious egg nog. (I know it is early, but it is Monica’s fault for having it last Saturday.) I am enjoying sweatpants and the nestlike bean bag chair. Winter beverages and winter foods. Hooray for cold weather! Hooray for staycation! Hooray for overzealous beverage companies that sell egg nog before Halloween!

4. I think all my blog friends hate me as it seems that so few people are updating their blogs. With all this lack of blog reading time I suppose I could invest in blog writing. Hmmmmmmm….

5. I am wondering about my fascination with Don Draper (RAWR) in Mad Men and why he is so attractive and feeling as though these rawr thoughts are the kind that a good Bryn Mawr feminist should not think. On the other hand, Don's wife is a Bryn Mawr Girl, perhaps we are all a tiny bit defective in that regard? (Or maybe it is just the design I find sexy. I love the clothes. I should have a sexy design party. We could watch Tron, Pushing Daisies, and Mad Men. Amazing design there.)

Occasional Lengthy, Rambling Posts About Nothing…now at SUC.

Things remain awesome on the island. I’m preparing for my Halloween-stravaganza, getting my robotics team prepped for competition, and helping my newest tutoring student (who is a real gem). In fact I feel a bit as though I am dipping my toes into my real life again. Which, honestly, is making me a little stressed out; but I think I need a little balance between the Wii Fit/TV viewing/ reading festival of Mathew McConaughey-level relaxation and my former complicated overly busy life.

I think part of that balance is retaining my 3 nights a week in rule and another part is quitting Smart People on Ice. Some of you probably noticed that I quit updating. I did make my goal and while I enjoyed putting things up there and knowing what I had been up to all that time, I wasn’t entirely honest about my activities every day and it was making my life more complicated. Part of the change is also learning to say ‘no’. ‘No’ is a very useful word, and letting go of all my feelings of obligation has been very challenging, but I am working on it.

In other news, work has been pretty stressful and I think that it is time for me to accept that my job will simply be harder and I will have to work very hard. It has been a while since I have been really challenged in my job either by workload or difficulty/complexity of tasks. (Of course dealing with idiots has been a constant challenge.)

In awesomer news, have I mentioned my ridiculous infatuation with geniuses (Hey, Dean Kamen! Still waiting for your call. Sitting here by the phone. Limbering up. Call me!), and obsessions with terrifying animals and Muppets are all featured heavily in the news lately? Uhm… cause they have:

1. Why Australia is not #1 on my list of vacation destinations, three words: spider eats BIRD. IT ATE A BIRD AND IT IS A SPIDER. If you don’t want to sleep again (ever) click the link. (I can’t stop looking. BLEEEEHHHHHHHH!)

2. Muppets you can make and own at FAO Schwartz.

3. Muppet Noir Murder Mystery being shopped according to The Hollywood Reporter.

4. More Muppet Youtube videos. GENIUS.

5. It looks like I have some tough competition in my quest for the hand of/stealing the life of Sir Richard Branson:

"He's got to be that guy that we all just secretly want to live his life. Even if it's just for a week I mean wouldn't that be incredible? If you had to pick one person he would be the guy for me, I would want to be him for a week." — Charlize Theron on Richard Branson.

Back to the rambling:

Last weekend I assembled the majority of my (awesome) Halloween costume and became aware that even though I had not really intended to be a slutty anything this year, a girl dressed as Big Bird cannot really help but look whore-y on account of the bare legs and feathers. Bare legs + feathers pretty much always = Vegas showgirl. The only saving grace is that my costume looks extremely… homemade so at least I won’t look like I was going for sexy. (Perhaps it is that I actually am unable to suppress the sexy.)

End of incoherent message.

This is why I kind of want to punch people in the face.

So soldiers in Iraq take in stray dogs and then want to bring them home. This I get. It is only natural that in times of high stress, soldiers would form such attachments.

I also acknowledge that the Iraqi dogs, when again abandoned, will have bleak and short futures.

However, 50,000 people signed a petition to force the Army to fly this dog back to the states. 50,000 people signed a petition to fly a DOG to the US.

I just feel like these 50,000 people could maybe be placing the weight of their collective opinions behind something more important. Perhaps better benefits for our soldiers. Or maybe protecting our rights from our intrusive government. Or standing up against the use of torture.

I’m glad the puppy gets to live a good life, but I would like it a lot if people cared as much about other people as they do a dog.

I also wonder how many of these people actually vote.

The shoe on the other foot.

It is an interesting thing to walk with a limp. Normally I walk with a clomping stride.

There was a time when I was younger and svelte, when I ran every day and walked with that hip forward shoulder back posture that characterizes girls from better schools.

Since I injured my foot my stride has been off and I walk with a clompyness that I am foolishly embarrassed by. It isn’t as though people probably notice the boyish clomptitude of my stride. But I do.

My foot has been hurting quite a bit for the last two days. In spite of icing and massage and elevation, my foot has hurt to the point that I have consolidated my trips away from my desk. And even as I walk now I move my hip differently, protecting my foot. When people notice that you limp they look at you differently; their eyes slide to your feet and away in a speedy shift.

I don’t think I’ve ever had that experience; the exhausting combination of shame/pity/curiosity in someone else’s eyes that would make me a hermit if I endured it for longer than a day.

Thanksgiving Update!

Even though Thanksgiving is not until Monday, I always force my parents to do the turkey today so I don't have to deal with Monday traffic on the way back down to Seattle.

So far the turkey has been bathed, had its butter massage, and been stuffed with homemade stuffing. (Which sounds quite relaxing from the turkey's perspective... other than the stuffing.) Last night I made 2 pumpkin pies from the America's Test Kitchen cookbook.

Left to make:
Potatoes
Gravy
Creamed corn (hurl)
Green Beans
Rolls
Cherry Pie
Whip cream

But right now I'm watching some Ghostbusters and drinking Coke made with real sugar. REAL SUGAR!! Wheeeeeeeeeeee!

I think I will peel some potatoes and then lose some Foosball.

Hooray!

Forwarded from my Step-mom.

A new feature! Actual forwards from my step-mom. For your enjoyment.

How do I miss these things?

My nerd cred is totally tarnished by not knowing about (Captain Jack from Torchwood) John Barrowman's musical past. Did you guys know that John Barrowman is an accomplished singer? With CD's out? A career in musical theater and a biography and what not?

I clearly need to spend more time aggressively googling hot sci-fi guys. (RAWR!)

Here is his newest music video:





I was going to make some cute comment about the next Torchwood mystery is why anyone thinks Burn Gorman (Owen on Torchwood) is a heart-throb. (Zing!) And here I see that he is also a musician. He is the "BBC 1Xtra Human Beatbox Champion" and has done work with Groove Armada and The Streets.

Then I was going to leave it there, but I had to look up Gareth David-Loyd (Ianto on Torchwood) and here I see he is the frontman of a blues band.

Together the men of Torchwood could start the nerdiest nerd band of all time!

Greetings from Mountlake Terrace!

I don't want to continually toot my horn regarding this particular issue, but my Staycation Plan of Inaction is a masterstroke of brilliance that artfully demonstrates how fantastic I could make the world if all of my energy wasn't spent on developing new poo jokes and daydreaming about Dean Kamen.

I am, in fact, so pleased with my staycation, that maybe I will stay here forever. I am less strict now with the rules, and I think that maybe after all my time running around like a crazy person, maybe I just need to spend a little time nested in my bean bag chair with a cookie, watching David Krumholtz solve crime using math. (OMG MATH, you guys.) Don't worry, my staycation stretch will not affect my blogging, which I hope to return to its normal schedule by Monday.

Additional gloating: I recieved 2 (TWO!) nice things yesterday.

1. I did someone a favor and she brought a mocha to my office. You see, I did something nice for her that I didn't have to do and that was not convenient and then she gave me a snack. Clearly she understands the nature of favors. De... wait for it... licious.

2. Our old custodian saw the state of my desk when he popped by last week and this week he mailed me a single pristine sheet of bubble wrap in an unmarked envelope. Perhaps he also heard how a crazy agressive dame got up in my face and I stood up and kicked her out of my office. Things at work are rollercoasteresqe in nature.

End of gloat.

In other news, I got my temporary crown on Sid, the Tooth of DOOM. This one damn tooth is costing me a fortune and the oft offered let's tie a string around it and tie the other to a door knob and slam the door idea would certainly have been more efficient than: filling it badly, adjusting it, filling it again when it chipped, pulling the whole shebang out and refilling it, having a root canal, coming in to adjust the filling due to pain (later to find out that this is probably a microcrack problem), having a temp crown put in, and then a permanent one next week. Apparently owning a grouchy tooth is akin to raising a child. I just hope that Sid wants to go to state school because I'm not paying for another shi-shi East Coast boutique fancy pants education.

I am especially annoyed at Sid's timing as this Friday I make my pilgrimage to Mother's for turkey and whatnot and having a hurty tooth at Thanksgiving is very irritating. The good news, however, is that I get to use my very neat new Enhanced Drivers License to cross the border, which will either be awesome or a complete clusterfuck. I am looking forward to doing some fun Vancouver-y things, and will do that rather than think about the last time Kim and I crossed the border and the wait was so long that we *almost* ran out of snacks.

In my final piece of non-linear non-sequitorial thought: my grandma (who reads this blog, by the way, so I should probably clean up my language- though, I won't) left me a very important voicemail to let me know that any non-Tom Selleck festooned birthday cake will be unsatisfactory for her next birthday.

Foggy Day

I love waking up on my island, the fog slugging about. It feels like mystery and smells like the ocean would, if it wasn’t full of so many things living and dead.

It makes me feel like I’m on the edge of an adventure; that I could walk through the wardrobe, or run straight into Dr. Who.

Today is a foggy day. And the first day I am allowed to put up my Halloween decorations. It is the first of the month and I will pay all my bills. I am very satisfied to have everything all paid up. Everything in its place.

Yesterday I started coaching my Robotics Team again. The core of great kids from last year’s team are back and I think this year we will put both a 7^th and 8^th grade team into competition. Why not field two teams? It isn’t as though I’m busy or anything.

Tonight is the first Pushing Daises of the season. I will enjoy it with pie and new friends. I will play with their baby and dog.

The fog means fall is creeping in, and with it the best holidays, warm sweaters, winter food. All year I long for hot cocoa, stews, soups, and casseroles.

And I am happy.

It is hard to enjoy your staycation when...

you realize you will never retire. 777 point drop in the DOW? There will be day traders turning tricks by Thursday.

Did anyone see this graph? Oh NYT, why do you make sad graphs? Graphs should only be used for good, not depressing.
















Looking back on my choice to enter into a career in a non-profit field where I myself net almost no profit I am now feeling somewhat reassured that no matter what, come this year, I would be absolutely fucked.

Job #1: Pay off student loans by December 2009.

Job #2: Pray.

Job #3: Start saving money for my retirement under my mattress or in my flour jar; somewhere it is safe from molestation.

Postzilla- I just write it, you sort it out.

1. Ok, Fringe, I grudgingly like you. But I will drop you the second I am slightly less interested. Joshua Jackson, you are not a very good actor; and testing my endurance greatly (and yet, you are mysteriously kind of sexy- how do you do this, are you magic?). IQ of 190 (oft repeated), I’m thinking those numbers are in the wrong order.

I’ve heard a lot of people complain that it is going to be freak of the week X-Files sans David Duchovny; I ask, what about that doesn't sound good. Monsters without Duchovny's sucking petulance, the abortive non-romance, and the overarching conspiracy theories poorly connected to culminate in 'yes, what you thought about your sister for the entire series was right [and boring].'

In related news, I think I have to learn how to use the time tape feature on my VCR. Yes, I own a VCR still. Now that we are watching Fringe we are Tivo-ing two things Monday at 9 and that bumps Big Bang Theory right off the Tivo. (Hey, TV stations, try showing all the good shows spread out rather than between 8 and 10 on Mondays. KTHX)

2. The number of threats of burning down my office have significantly dropped off, which I think signals that my staycation is working nicely. I have made serious headway in all of my projects and that is very exciting.

3. Yesterday I went to the DOL to get my enhanced driver’s license (which will allow me to cross the Canadian border without additional paperwork) and it was quite the riggamaroll. The guy who interviewed me had the strongest (just guessing Turkish?) accent and I think he was hitting on me. It is hard to say because I only caught 50% of his heavily accented mumblings.

Ex:

Maybe Turkish Homeland Security Clearance Guy: Blardy Blardy Blar Canada often?

Q: pause… Yes, between 4 and 7 times a year for the last 6 years.

MTHSCG: Blardy Blar visiting your boyfriend?

Q: pause… My mother.

Yea, because I’ve been dating some joker for 6 years and I see him quarterly. Hmmmmm… actually that seems somewhat appealing and realistic to situations in my life. Perhaps this is more troubling than I had initially thought.

Also, he asked me questions I did not know the answers to such as:

Where was your father born?

How do you spell Fort Ord?

He seemed kind of appalled that I knew so little about my father; for example when I had to look up his birthday in my Palm. I think that Mumbles von Accent needs to lay of the judging.

4. I am super broke right now due to my own over-eagerness to pay off my credit card completely next month and I am resentful that I am so obsessed with paying off my debts. (Although I did shop more than I ought to have this month according to my crazy budget, and it was a really heavy gift month with numerous birthdays, babies, and weddings.)

5. (This is much longer than I expected, maybe I missed blogging.) Is anyone else excited about ABC’s Castle (to come out midseason 2009)? It stars Nathan Fillion as a mystery writer who helps the police solve crimes. You guys, it is like Murder She Wrote, but with Nathan Fillion. Now all this show needs is Tom Selleck and I would join the fan club.

Where is my delicious Tom Selleck [cake]?

Has everyone seen this yet? If not, feast your eyes upon the delight which is Tom Selleck in cake form:



















Very nice, Alicia of alicia policia.

In addition to making me aware that all of my previous cake eating experiences have been sub-par, Alicia also pointed out that Tom Selleck is no stranger to life in cake form. Unfortunately the Tom Selleck cakes linked previously sound... revolting.

In other cake news: where is my Han Solo encased in carbonite cake?
























And do not even get me started on Dalek cakes.

Is anyone else here feeling a little hungry?

It's ok, you see, I've come up with a new new plan.

This is how everything will be alright. Things have not been alright lately. I am drowning in bad feelings, work, inexplicable loneliness, exhaustion, frustration, and a disorganized life that I feel like I do not own.

Hence the blog-hiatus. I don't want to have a blog where I write beautiful entries about my difficult and beautiful life, and my sad but hopeful feelings. That is not who I am. I make plans. And watch movies about aliens where things blow up. And worry about high fructose corn syrup. And floss EVERY DAY.

I do not worry about my relationship with my father. I do not worry about my map in life. There is a stranger attempting to helm my blog (and maybe my life) and I do not like them or their feelings oriented ways.

Last week I came up with an ingenious plan to spend 3 nights a week at home every week till Christmas.

This week I realize that this is not a strong enough measure. I am in a funk bog thick as jell-o jigglers. Having time to paint my toenails and do my laundry (but not at the same time) is not going to solve this problem.

I need a vacation. So I will be taking one. Here, at home. Through October 15, you may consider me on vacation on the tropical island of Mountlake Terrace.

I plan to mostly stay home. Mostly nap and read. Mostly tend to my garden. I want to use my kitchen aid to make delicious food. Clean the garage. Get some order and discipline. Finish up the work project with a looming October 15 due date. Smell the daisies. Have my cake and eat it too.

Then, butterfly-like, I shall emerge on the 16th, tidied and relaxed. And I will not have to kill anyone.

Maybe.

So, my blog may or may not be somewhat sparse for the next month. I will update when I feel like it. And not update when I don't. I will probably not make a lot of plans to go out. But if you want to come visit me on my island, let me know.

It is always sunny in Mountlake Terrace. Where the women make cookies, the men kill spiders, and the children play in the M'n F'n street even when you yell at them. Every day.

Reach out and punch someone...

in the face. Then duck and run away, because that person could surely take you out of the world as quickly as you were brought in.

Trying to make plans with Dad is like making peace in the Middle East. All I want to know is when and where to meet on the pre-established day. And what was his response.

"Why don't I just call you when I get settled in?"

Why don't you just call? Empirical evidence suggests that is a long shot.

I swear in front of God and the entire internet, that if I drive down to Portland and he does not call me, I will really really really never ever give him a bazillionth chance. Because I have been fooled so many times that I don't know which of us should be more ashamed.

That is all.

I think it is time for ice cream and This Old House. Norm would never leave me hanging.

Unrelated (mostly) sidenote: does anyone else find Kevin O'Connor ridiculously adorable? I need to stop watching TOH. (#1 sign you watch too much, you use the abbreviation 'TOH'.)

I am Batman

She sat at a stop light, a mild mannered math-er headed out after a hard day of adding and subtracting. The rain slid down the blue hood of her old car like cold tears. On the radio the tinny voice of some dame bemoaned the state of the world. Just another gray day in a gray city. A familiar crunch distracted the math-er from her musings. A car had turned straight into the car behind her. She stared into her rear view mirror and sighed, weighing her options and wondering if everything was alright. Something told her it wasn't.

The light turned green. Following her intuition, she pulled through the intersection and into the lot across the street. She watched the offending vehicle, a luxury model, pull into a joint next to the accident. The driver got out of the car and slid her hands along her vehicle. She was young. Too young to know any better.

She looked both ways and legged it back to her car and took off.

Something in the math-er snapped. Her manner became decidedly un-mild and she gave chase, her large blue vehicle gliding along behind the speeding sports car. The math-er had had enough. Enough of people acting like assholes. Enough of assholes getting away with it. Enough of nice people sitting on the side of the road in their shitty smashed up domestic cars wondering why these things happen. And why they always happen to them.

The math-er knew why. Because some people think that they are above the law. Some people think that they are better than other people. They are wrong, thought the math-er, her jaw clenched with gritty determination.

The young woman was driving pretty fast, and the math-er almost lost sight of her. She saw a glint take a speedy right and followed it on a hunch. She thought of the battered old American car sitting in the road back at the intersection and gunned it. Ahead of her she saw the car. And ahead of it a 4-way stop. The math-er knew she had the young woman cornered. As she pulled up behind the car, the math-er wrote the license number on her hand. She watched as the young woman turned down a dead end. But the math-er had all she needed.

She hurried back to the scene of the crime and flagged down a police officer. The police praised her and took down her detailed statement. They called her a hero. The math-er was flattered, she preened but demurred, Aw shucks, just doing the right thing.

As the math-er walked back to her American relic the driver of the mutilated old car pressed her hands together in a gesture of thanks. The math-er turned and smiled. She gave the driver thumbs up.

Not just another day. A new day.

A new day in the gray city.

---------------------------------------

And that is why I didn't make it to your Pseudo-Bachelorette Party, Mon. My secret life as a crime fighter got in the way (again).

Seriously.

PS- This is my 1,000th post. Good job on not quitting, self. You should eat a cupcake tonight in celebration.

I was going to eat one anyway, but now I have an excuse!

Recipe for a Good Life

I know I am a whiner. I’m so busy. Wah wah wah. I have too many friends. Wah wah wah.

Sometimes I am overwhelmed by the amount of things I schedule for myself. I always get burnt out and threaten big changes, but in the end it comes down to one thing: I have the greatest friends ever. (In the entire history of friends. Pretty sure.) How can I complain that I am too busy when there is so much awesome to be had?

This weekend I had the final installment of birthday shenanigans and I was utterly touched by the thoughtfulness of my friends. Every gift was clearly chosen with care. Every person sacrificed a Sunday evening, traveling though torrential rain just to eat delicious cake with me.

Even after I threw a bitch-fit about only wanting one little party.

I am doubly blessed to have a caring family and friends who are there not just for cocktails and cake, but stick around even when I move or paint my home. I don't even need to ask.

I may not have all the things in life that people grasp at, but I am lucky to have the most elusive and valuable thing of all, fantastic friends.

For my birthday I received a host of amazing gifts including a Kitchen Aid stand mixer. My Kitchen Aid is just waiting on the counter. Shiny and new, like the new car I've never owned. It even has new mixer scent. Every year I've requested a Kitchen Aid, and my family has refused. Kitchen Aid stand mixers are for married women. Get married and we'll buy you one. The only thing better than being an independent woman and buying a Kitchen Aid is being given one by your friends. Confirmation that I am good the way I am.

I show my love for people in sacrifices of my most precious commodity: time. Standing in my kitchen kneading dough, cutting cookies, or frying up some bacon, while bopping along to music is the perfect way to 'talk' about my 'feelings'. Daydreaming of happy friends with full stomaches as I stir. The warmth of the oven, the clean white counters, and the safety of an apron are like a crackling fire, warm blanket, and a good book. I'm never more at peace than when I'm whipping something up for a loved one.

I've got all these images in my head. I see good friends at the table. Herbs from my garden. And in the kitchen things are stirring. Clippings from Gourmet and Cook's Illustrating are queuing up and I am ready. I am mixing dreams in that shiny metal bowl.

Passive Aggressive Notes to My Roommate: Spider Edition

Dear Roommate,

I am not sure how you persuaded me to come into the bathroom with you to “check out this HUGE spider in the garbage can” (I assume voodoo), but I would like to ask you to STOP IT, because I am permanently traumatized.

That spider was so huge that in spite of the fact that I knew it would be there, I screamed anyway. You pulled like 4 Kleenex out of the box to kill that spider. I would have tried the elephant gun first. Ok, that is not true because I would have just screamed and ran away. Also I don’t have an elephant gun.

Every morning I make my bed even though I am blind, deaf, and dumb until after I’ve showered and eaten. And do you know why, dear roommate? It is not because I’m OCD and must control my environment; no, it is because then spiders cannot get into my bed and lie in wait for me.

That spider was so huge that it crawls into my bed, reads my comics, and watches HGTV in my bath robe, then makes the bed again and leaves. So huge that it probably squeezes into the sexiest of my unmentionables and prances around like a pony, taking sassy pictures of itself then posts them on craigslist, because spiders are filthy kinky bastards like that.

So, in conclusion, the next time you see a spider the size of a heifer, just kill it and don’t even tell me it was ever there.

Definitely do not follow me into the living room and tell me that you killed another one upstairs already.

XOXO,
q.

Fred Meyer is zoned “twilight”.

Fred Meyer is actually built on an Indian burial ground or a space time rift or the Hellmouth or something. In fact, I am reminded of the show Reaper, wherein Sam (the Devil’s bounty hunter) can deposit captured souls bound for Hell at the DMV or any other hellish place. I’m pretty sure Sam could deposit souls at Fred Meyer (I will start looking for covert horns on the employees).

It is not actually scientifically possible to just go to Fred Meyer and buy toothpaste. You always look for toothpaste, but then can’t find it, but ‘oh look there are party hats with raccoons on them on sale’ and then you are accosted by ancient semi-nude Russian women spouting profanities, Mexican gang-bangers, or drug dealers and then you stand in line for half an hour and then they have to do a price check on your toothpaste and then the toothpaste turns into a snake and devours your face.

Example: Not too long ago Jim purchased an entertainment tower and we got trapped in line behind someone buying a full cart of groceries from a checker on their first day (on this side of the space time rift?) and a guy who grabbed and squeezed Jim’s shoulder like he was checking a melon for ripeness. The entire furniture choosing process took literally 5 minutes, but before leaving Fred Meyer we stood in line 20 minutes, I almost bought a hummingbird feeder, and a man came-on to Jim. This is how Fred Meyer is.

So given that I’ve been shopping at Fred Meyer since I was 14 years old, I should have known that going to Fred Meyer with Czabrina last night was a ridiculously huge lapse in judgment.

Naturally, they did not have legal sized color copying paper (the only objective of the trip), but plastic bins were on sale, so I had to buy them.

Whilst waiting in line to buy the bins, we were trapped behind what I can only assume were Mormons preparing for the end of days OR John and Kate (of Plus 8 fame). But we were patient. We were having a nice time chatting. It should come as no surprise that this is exactly when the Fred Meyer Rule of Ricockulosity (the Third Law of Crazydynamics) came into play.

A clean-cut, petite, black woman came up the aisle and as she passed took notice of the under-the-bed bin I was holding and asked about it. Czabrina directed her to the correct aisle. But of course, as this is Fred Meyer, the conversation does not end with her thanking us and walking to the aisle, but instead took a sinister course as she declared that you could fit a person, or most of a person, in that bin and store them under your bed or tie them to the top of your car- but they’d have to be small, like my girl. This statement is chased by the phrase “you know what I mean”. Uhm. Do you mean you plan to cram the partially desiccated corpse of your next victim, probably “your girl”, in a Rubbermaid bin that you plan to buy here at Freddy’s today?

She immediately retrieved a screw driver from her person and went on at length about their usefulness, for fixing cars (?? Baroo??). I then decided that perhaps I should continue friendly conversation thus putting off the inevitable stabbing that was certain to come. (Could it be crazy lady, with a screw driver, in the garden department?)

She inquired as to what I would put in the bins, I said CD’s. She is shocked that I have that many CD’s. I explained that I used to work at a music store and got a great discount. Stabby (we are now on a made-up first name basis) announced (loudly) the many ways to steal CD’s when you work at a CD store. “You can get your buddy to come and buy one CD, but take the tags off of like 20 CD’s and then put them in the bag. You know what I mean? Or you can throw a box out the back door. You know what I mean? Or you can open them in the back, take the CD and throw the case in the garbage....” I said, “You could.”

Then she asked us to hold her spot in line and ran over and grabbed one bottled water and 8 candy bars. When she returned (drat!) she asked if she could put them on the conveyer and we agreed. She held them back as the conveyor rolled forward. Finally it was our turn, and as the checker rang up my bins, the Mormons/John & Kate left setting off the door alarm. The checker waved them through, which upset Stabby who yelled at the checker, “You can’t just let them steal like that! You are not good at your job, Michael!” A moment later she mumbled something and, stealing the screw driver, stalked out.

Initially we were all relieved. This care free attitude immediately evaporated as Czabrina and I peered anxiously out the doors towards my distant car. Somewhere out in the darkness was Stabby McGee, replete with stabbing instrument. We ran to the car and sped out of the parking lot, eager to arrive at Staples, where you can walk in, buy paper and leave, and almost nobody advises you on how to hide dead bodies.

You can look forward to a new installment of Department Store or Portal to Alternate Reality soon as the under-the-bed bin I bought does not fit under my bed.

This just in! Whales are dumb.

In other news, whales and I now have more in common than blubber; as I am also a moron and pulled a muscle in my ass this morning at work. Said I, "Ouch! I think I just pulled my ass!"

Said coworkers, "Teehee."

Our Impending Doom

I thought I would mention that I am a contributing blogger at therobotapocalypse.blogspot.com. My first entry, Colbert on the impending Robot Apocalypse.

Teaser:

The groundwork for our demise has been laid; and you can blame Steve Jobs.

Look at that face, if that doesn't say "Bwahahaha", I'll eat my hat*.
























* [made of delicious cake.]

Nerdy Links!

For those who have ever wondered, in a battle between a shark and a polar bear, who would win? Don't get to excited, there is no video. Just some forensic evidence and a bit of scientific speculation.

Will we try to clone mammoths? You bet we will. I think we owe to Michael Crichton to at least try. If that doesn't work, we should fall back onto plan b, VR gloves for gorillas.

If you are not reading Kick-Ass, you should be. I'm really enjoying this book. Kick-Ass has been optioned and Christopher Mintz-Plasse (McLovin) is apparently in negotiations to play the villain. I wonder if he will be scary as a villain. Via io9.

Fantastic Friday Super Post

1. If you know me, you know of my many obsessions. Two of my particular favorites: Sesame Street and Neil Patrick Harris, are combined in the coming season 39 of Sesame Street. There is a sneak preview of of NPH as Sesame Street's Shoe Fairy up on Youtube. There is singing. You must watch. Via The Park Bench.

2. In the grossest news ever, I am a slug mass murderer. Yesterday I set slug traps (aka plastic cups of beer) out in my garden and 2 of the three had one slug each, but one trap had countless (meaning too gross to count) slugs of all colors and sizes. It was disgusting. There was about an inch of slug corpse detritus in the bottom of my slug cup. Tonight I must buy more beer. Bwahahahahahahahaha!

3. This whole bigfoot uproar has spawned something most diverting: Graham Roumieu's Bigfoot Press Release on Boing Boing. If you have not read Graham Romieu's Bigfoot books, you should as they are awesome.

4. In fantastic news, it is Friday and I have a spectacular weekend of awesomeness planned: pj and movie night with Melody, Farmers Market with Kim, hanging pictures, picking paint colors, high energy tidying, followed by first class ass-sitting. I'm going to read some books and watch a lot (A LOT) of TV. Perhaps I'll buy the next book in Fables or Y:The Last Man as a special treat. It is Friday and things are good.