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1. Welcome, Spring. And thank you for bringing my migraines back. I won’t take drugs for childbirth, but I’ll pop pain relievers like Tic Tacs every year ’bout now. It’s a good thing I can wear hats to my job, b/c I don’t have a C-clamp big enough, and my Royals cap is the closest I can get to that feeling of wanting to squeeze my temples until my eyeballs pop out.
2. My friend Kyle shared this article about auties and degrees of savantism/genius, and though I read it observationally, it still reminded me of just how freaking proud I am of my little stinker. He’ll be six this weekend, and once again I’m amazed by how hard he works to learn and understand and adapt. Man I love that kid something fierce.
3. On principle I’m right-clicking the hell out of this PC currently. I work with Macs all day long, and sometimes their functionality totally blows.
4. Totally digging this song by Johan Johannsson (whose name still sounds as lame in another language as it would if I’d written the English version John Johnson) called Fordlandia. I would like to use it in a documentary someday. It’s a super long song, so give it a minute to build. So pretty.
5. Speaking of functionality, I saw one of those Easy Rider bikes today, and I legitimately don’t get why the handlebars are built like that. How does that not make your arms ache? I can’t imagine driving cross-country on one of those. What am I missing?
6. I have a sweet couple due in a month and I’m super excited. Births and the miracles within are incomparable, and I could use some rekindling of my faith in humanity lately.
And that’s all I can think of for now. I was going to launch into a been-brewing rant, but my head just simply hurts, and I don’t have the clarity I’ll need. Maybe I’ll try to come back later tonight.
Hope your worlds are well, friends. Feel free to respond to the random post with random thoughts; I’ve been missing a few of you lately. 😉
(As a preamble to this ambling ramble.)
So I have a job interview on Monday for a temp position for a national charity foundation. They have an upcoming fundraiser with those mock jails where people agree to be ‘arrested’ so others donate money for their bail. I call and try to convince people to be arrested at their jobs or homes. No idea if I will be persuasive, but consider yourselves forewarned that I WILL be bringing in my personal address book. I am so not kidding.
Also, I’m bordering on being serious when I wonder if my normally-developing, rarely sick and chubby cheeked daughter has a crazy oral fixation, or, well.. pica.
Anyone have ideas?
Could make me cry if I thought about it long enough, but surely that has to be for the best.
Hm. I could write an entire post on this alone, and it wouldn’t be all rant. However this whole thing is particularly fraught with blurred ethical lines. If I thought they could create a vaccine whose efficacy rate was high enough, the benefit could outweight my usual concerns with possible long-term consequences of the vaccine itself and I’d squarely place this one in the grey area. However, like the story mentions, thus far it’s been a catastrophe, and previous trials have given recipients the virus. I respect the fact that the scientists are admitting they don’t know enough about how HIV changes the immune system, but I also know it’s just a CYA for Merck, who funded the last study. Wolf in sheep’s clothing and all that. Either way, I’m interested to keep up on this, because this isn’t in the same ridiculous category as say, chicken pox.
I am honestly offended. And in the words of my favorite leader Cedric Daniels, I think this is BULLshit.
So my first appt with this potential company was just some testing. And I had a relatively eventful experience with all of it that I was already internally blogging about while driving home (something I fill my thinking-time with often, along with creating dance routines ala Girls Just Want to Have Fun, to be completely honest) when it hit me that.. uh… maybe it wouldn’t be wise to do, y’know?
So I’ll just smile and say I look forward to the interview.
But I CAN tell you that in the 5 years I’ve been out of the professional loop, I’d forgotten just how much congested traffic pisses me off. For those in KC, the company is located PAST THE STADIUMS, so it’s a freaking haul from my house. And the worst is that I encountered all local driving stereotypes rolled into one: a tail-riding Range Rover with blue plates. And as we rounded 435 E to N, I was having to use all my willpower not to slam on my brakes. I didn’t, partially because I’m trying to grow up and not get shot as a result of road rage, but mostly because I didn’t have time for a wreck. So he zoomed past me, I single-saluted him, and I went back to choreographing Outkast.
A few minutes later I saw a motorcycle cop on the side of the road openly gunning all of us. And as per usual I yelled SHIT and tapped the brakes. I do that instinctively, regardless of where I am or how fast I’m going. I just assume I’m speeding, because the vast majority of the time I am. And in fact I was going 77 in a 65. I hadn’t purposely gone 12 over, but I hadn’t bothered to figure out what the limit was, either. So knowing I was tagged, I waited to see the other cop. Sure enough, I saw him pull out ahead and start to slow down (me sighing in resignation) right about the time I saw him flip the lights. Turns out he wasn’t getting me after all.
He wanted my good buddy the Range Rover.
Ahhhh sweet, sweet justice.
And that’s my story. Not very worthy of a blog post, I know, but if I can’t tell you about Queen Bee yet, this’ll have to do. The job title is IT Systems Analyst/QA, but really it’s tech writing with some QA thrown in. I’m apprehensive, but excited. Keep sending good vibes and prayers, grazie.
I’ll write about my heart breaking thinking about the kids in daycare full time later; I need to wake up Uno so he’s not up all night.
So I often add some powdered hot chocolate to my morning jetfuel (Because I’m still a little too I like my sugar with coffee and cream Beastie Boyish, thanks.) and when we have raw goat milk, I’ll add that to it, ala the Big Mac/Diet Coke kind of thinking. Fine. But yesterday, Jack found an old box of Spiderman mac n’ cheese in the pantry –
[Sidenote: Does anyone else think the funky noodle shapes taste different than the regular noodles? How is that?! Why wouldn’t it be the same ingredients as regular noodles, but just stamped into a different mold?!]
– and demanded to eat it for lunch. To assuage some of my guilt I only put in half the cheese packet, and added some ingredients from the fridge in hopes of creating some semblance of health. Ok, great.
So. This morning, after making my delicioso 7-step coffee, I randomly grabbed for the half packet of chocolate left over from yesterday – you know where this is going – and instead dumped the rest of the craptastic powdered cheese into my gloriously oversized mug. Luckily, I noticed I was stirring around BRIGHT ORANGE, and some synapse fired enough to recognize that Houston had a problem.
Alas, the day was not ruined, because making that complicated coffee means we always have a lot left over. And the second go-round was much more smooth. But that still should be a lesson for JON to NOT BUY SPIDERMAN MAC’NCHEESE AT THE STORE. BECAUSE IT DOESN’T EVEN TASTE GOOD ANYWAY.
Let’s see. How is everyone? Things are pretty good here. Oscar is pretty much 100% healed. He has a hella scar running up his belly with staples in it, and I’m considering calling him Zip(per) from now on. Or, Oscar the WonderMoron. Or Economy Stimulus Check. Whichever.
Jon is donating bone marrow next week b/c he is a match for someone, and that is so ridiculously cool. I’m not sure what all it entails, but truly, we should all be so lucky there are people out there who would do something so painful and altruistic. You’re a good man, Charlie Brown.
For those of you who know of my long-standing fascination with the West Memphis Three case, I was directed to this video yesterday that sums it up much more quickly than the two documentaries. Go. Watch. Get involved. I cried yesterday thinking not only of the injustice, but the arbitrariness of HBO getting involved in the first place. It scares me to think of all the other backwoods, backassward trials slipping through the cracks.
That Alex Barton thing I (and eleventybillion other people) wrote about has literally exploded, due to the outrage of the autism community. As per usual I’m slightly irritated that autism is the main reason it caught national attention, but it has opened a huge path for discussion of neurodiversity, which is stupidly overdue. Again (againagainagain), I’m not wholly sure I can be in either camp, but enlightenment is still progress, obviously.
I am digging on this song, big time.
I finished the book Middlesex last week. I think it’s a great choice for everyone; it has a lot of underlying themes that can be discussed thoroughly. Plus, I get the impression that the author might be the type who wrote a cool story but didn’t actually mean for it to be that purposely layered. Who knows. It’s the guy who wrote The Virgin Suicides, and it’s a cool book anyway, despite his goofy jacket picture.
Only 23 days until we leave for Colorado. Hu-freaking-zah, I’m deliriously excited. I hate summer in Kansas.
I think that’s it. Love to all.
I’d like to start by saying that I enjoy your movies. The layered humor is great for adults while still managing to be sweetly innocent for the kids. I believe that’s partially why you’ve done so well.
I would like to suggest, as both a parent and consumer, that you think about following your new(ish) owner’s example and create cutsie children’s songs for your movies, as opposed to using already-released pop songs that may or may not have been in rotation for years.
I mention this only because while driving today with my autistic and perserverating four year-old son, Tom Cochrane’s ‘Life Is a Highway’ came on shuffle. And this is disturbing first because I didn’t realize I owned that cheesy song, but also because the aforementioned son promptly recognized it from Cars.
Thus we listened to it seventy-eight times before we got home.
And I, good people at Pixar, don’t think I should have to pay to fix my bleeding ears, so I’m sending you the bill. I realize that’s cheaper than paying royalties, but surely it’s a lose-lose for you, no?
So I’m just saying you should think about it. Maybe contact Angela Landsbury and see if she’s busy.
Thanks in advance,
We have a snow day, a feverish toddler, a hyper preschooler, an out-of-town Daddy and my eyeballs just tried to jump ship due to the pressure in my head when I blew my nose.
I’ll give a shiny nickel to the first person who shows up with a pizza and a babysitter.
Because I know somewhere there’s a clause that says that if you get no sleep and your kid wakes up with a raging case of pink eye and one cat jumps into the unflushed toilet and the other pukes into your paper towel-waiting hand (all before lunch) you get to spike your coffee.
I know I saw it somewhere. I’ll let you know.
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I hate the bloated ego that is Roger Clemens. I should hate Andy Pettitte (or Sosa, Giambi, Mac, whomever) equally, but I seem to save my ire for assholes like Clemens (and Bonds). Unabashedly arrogant and greedy, he thinks his game truly makes him better – than everyone – it’s always seemed.
And since Bonds is finally publicly astericked, I now patiently wait for Clemens.
I realize I’m not a big enough fan to merit outrage. I know too many guys whose opinions deserve to carry much more weight than mine. But my biggest complaint of MLB has *always* been the open disparity (payrolls, gate receipts, even park size) that everyone seems to accept. And when the powered-athleticism that is the dirty push behind the steroid use is so rampant that even our hometown Christian hero Sweeney is rumored to have partaken, I have total disgust for the whole game.
My views are not original. I just don’t have the life-long romanticism that others have and so I feel no shame wanting that man to give back all of his Cy Youngs and the stupid orange Hummer. I’d be ok with a total dissolution of baseball as we know it.
IT’S NOT WORKING.
Thank you for spending time writing your thoughts and opinions on the interwebs, I enjoy reading different viewpoints. It’s always interesting to learn more about people all over who have varying lives. I’m going to assume by your semblance of sentence structure that you are generally educated, and I know the problems of sticky keyboards and hectic typing environments. Mostly, I too would clink a beer to the difficulty and screwiness of the English language. However, for the love of all that is holy, please, internet user, learn the difference between LOSE and LOOSE.
I know for some of you it is a shock that they are, in fact, differently-spelled words. And I readily admit this is a small, small grammatical issue to get bent out of shape over. I actually let a lot of things go, knowing I’m a snob. But this one just makes my eyes twitch in its unnecessariness. I don’t need to define them; I know if you stop and think about it you can differentiate the two. So let’s come up with a mnemonic to remember when you write one, shall we? Then everyone is happy! Huzzah!
Let’s see. Have you heard of a bathroom being called the ‘loo? How about when you go to the loo your buckle becomes loose? Get it? Double ‘o’ in both words? In a bathroom things become loose? (Yes, I know that’s a double entendre. Whatever gets you to remember it.)
Um, how about.. Find a ruse to use for lose. Or the moose was loose as a goose. See how they sound different with their vowels and consonants? I know these are lame, but I’m trying here.
Ok, last one: When you think about lose, remember it has “lost” an ‘o’. Get it? Lost? Lose? Missing an ‘o’? That’s a good one – I stole it from a website.
Whichever you choose, I beg of you to please be aware of what you casually write, because these words are the unacknowledged entrants in the they’re/their/there or too/two/to category, and my goal is to spread the word about this need for education.
Thank you for your time and don’t give up – this is really not that hard.
Really. It’s not.
This thing is acting wiggedy-wacked and isn’t staying connected.
Ad-Aware found 31 objects to quarantine. (!?!?)
Wish me luck.
ETA: Turns out I think it was on AT&T’s end.
Boo Hiss! I will bring you down someday!
It’s October 20th.
Fall started a month ago.
It was 45° the other night and now it’s 81°.
Could you just make a decision already? My closet’s confused.
WHY my daughter decided to get up at 1:45 and stay up until around 7:00 (minus one half-hour break she took to recharge) for no apparent reason other than curiosity and stubbornness. She was well enough to want a snack around 2:30 and to watch some Elmo around dawn. And I don’t think anything hurts, because when Jack came tornadoeing into our room around 8:30, she managed to perk up enough to eat a bowl of oatmeal and then beaugard most of my bagel.
However, she’s so delirious that when you ask her a question, she will literally shake her head no while saying yes, or nod her head yes while saying no way. In fact trying to discuss anything last night was met with either NO WAY GO WAY or MOMMA W’ARE YOU? Even when we were in bed and she was draped like a koala on my chest.
So now, at 9:09 am, I have had almost 3 and half hours of sleep. Poor Hamburger Pimp has had even less, since it was difficult to sleep with a perpendicular toddler and he had a crazy-early meeting today.
And normally I would gripe and whine and let it go, because these are events that come with parenting. But I’m officially announcing my suspicions of a coup d’etat, only because just last night, while discussing the dinner we’re planning to have tonight with Jon’s sister (who’s in town with her boyfriend), I said “we need to make sure the kids get good sleep tonight so we can wear them out and put them to bed early tomorrow.”
This one’s a sneaky one.. I’m going to keep my eye on her.
Assuming I can keep it open.
Remember when I was all, Please Jon can I have a new cat because they’re so cute and loving and I want one?
Yeah, well, that was the old me.
Also remember when Oscar was so sweet and innocent like this?
Well, that was a lie too. This thing is in full-on cat asshattery mode. He sleeps like a rock then bounds awake and dive bombs your head. He attempts to jump into your lap but claws you when he misses and slides down your legs. He runs in front of you but jukes to the side so you’re either tripping or sending him flying.
He poops in the plant in the corner. And that’s dirty pool. That’s just foul.
Those books in the background are an attempt to block him out. He stands on the computer tower and drops himself HEADFIRST AND UPSIDE DOWN behind it, so he can utilize all his paws to rip the cords out.
This I can handle.
This I most definitely can not.
(Fool’s gonna have a chilly nap one of these days if he doesn’t stop jumping in there.)
And I really shouldn’t complain. I’ve known for a while that I’m glutton for punishment. Lucy might have been the sweetest and dumbest cat God ever created, by she is not the norm by far. My norm is obnoxious cats who embody Stewie Griffin in feline form; and I am Lois.
But don’t worry: Aside from the fact that this little fartknocker here was free so technically wouldn’t be any financial loss if he ended up on the back porch, I wouldn’t ever do that.
After all, for almost a decade I’ve put up with the devil’s incarnate himself: Fatty Boombatty. And ain’t nothing compares to this beast.
I don’t recommend breaking into our house, in case you had thought about it.
I’m just sayin’..