Archive for the ‘*slaps forehead*’ Category

That posting thing I do sometimes

There is this thing call NaBloPoMo (for those of y’all that know about this, bear with me.  My mom reads this and she’s not all into the interwebs like some of us are.), which is short for “National Blog Posting Month” wherein one must post something every day.  This is especially useful for those of us who sometime forget, like for weeks at a time, that they actually have a blog.  Whoopsie!

So for the last, I don’t know, like two years or something, I’ve been a little remiss in my blog posting thing.  (Don’t worry.  This isn’t one of those posts where I’m going to be all:  “you guuuuysss, I’m so sorry!  I’ve been busy and there has been work and stuff but I promise I’ll get to posting soon, love ya!  Thanx 4 the support!”  I hope you’ve all realized that when I say that it is utter bullshit.  If I was a man beating his girlfriend I would say:  “Baby, I’m going to keep on hitting you in the face.  I’m not going to change.  But you’ll stay with me because I’m rich and the sex is good.”  Except that I am not rich.  And the sex isn’t there.)  (ahhh…it feels good to have another tangent enclosed in parentheses!)

So, like three months ago I though to myself.  Hey!  I know!  I’ll participate in NaBloPoMo when it rolls around again!  That’ll kick my ass in gear!  And do you know what I realized today as I was scanning my google reader? (Which I just got to under 1000 news posts for the first time in ages!  Hurrah!)  That November is NaBloPoMo.  Why, that is THIS month!  Whoopsie again!

So, in honor of the forgotten NaBloPoMo, I present you with a post.  A brief and pointless one, which is a huge digression from my typical EPIC and pointless ones!  For me, I feel like this is a pretty damn impressive accomplishment.


Sarah Palin frightens me

If John McCain wins the election, I will turn into someone who prays.

I will pray every single night that he stays healthy and he doesn’t die in office.

Because the alternative is frightening.

I was wrong about her: she isn’t stupid, she’s an evil genius

All her gosh-darnin’ and gettin’ and hopin’ and Maverickin’ and winking (disgusting!  You are in the middle of a goddamn vice-presidential debate.  Try to show a little class.) made my skin crawl.  I could see straight through her, but there are millions of people out there that were probably just charmed right plumb to death.  That’s scary.  Really, really scary.

In lieu of an actual mother’s day post

Since I spent yesterday slaving away in a field (no, really!) building fences and digging up Jerusalem Artichokes, I wasn’t able to do a Mother’s Day post.

In all the glory that is my mom, she must have sensed my lack of being able to post so she graciously surprised me by essentially writing a post for me.

So here’s one from my mom.  Thanks, mom.  I love you very much.


Taylor, your description of “working in the yard” reminded me of your now (amongst family and friends) famous gardening story…since it is Mother’s Day, I feel I have the right to share it with your blog readers…

So…. Taylor (who was around 6 years old) and I were planting daffodils and other miscellaneous bulbs in a newly dug flower bed in front of the house her dad and I were buiding…Taylor stepped back and took a long slow look at the house, the garden, the beautiful woods and the flowers we had planted…

“You know, Mommy…someday this will all be mine, right?”

“Well Taylor…you never know…when your dad and I get old we might have to sell this place to have enough money to take care of ourselves in our old age.”

Taylor looked up to me with her big, beautiful blue eyes and said in her wonderful little Smurfette voice…”Mommy, you don’t have to worry about that. By the time you get old I will be a rich and famous scientist” (she had not discovered history yet).

(Ed.  And also, I hadn’t discovered science yet, which I failed miserably at.  Who knew that science wasn’t about training dolphins and blowing stuff up?  There was like…math and shit.  What the hell is up with that?)

My heart swelled with pride…what a precious, innocent, unselfish child…in my mind I finished Taylor’s sentence…”and I wil take care of you…”

And as I was gazing down on her with the adoring look that only a mother can give to her child she said:

…”And I will put you in the finest nursing home money can buy!”

Aaaaaand…moment over.  It’s a wonder she kept me around, right?  Doesn’t that make you want to run out and have kids, so that they will tell you they are going to throw you in a home when you get old?  What a little darling I must have been.

But they were pointy! And clickey! And cute!

I’m not quite sure what it was that possessed me to get up yesterday morning and put on those boots.  It must have been because it was 5:50 in the morning and I have been sleeping like a crackhead lately (I mean…I guess?  Do crackheads sleep erratically? That’s what I’m trying to say I’ve been doing…I AM AN AWESOME EXPLAINER).  My first mistake was probably getting dressed, because for some reason I decided that wearing brown pants and a brown shirt that were the EXACT same color that also happens to be the EXACT same color as my hair, which I wore down, and which is unbelievably long and sprawling at the moment, would be a good idea.  I was almost completely monochromatic, and the color that I was proudly wearing was “poop.”  HOTTT.

So anyway, in my stupor I say:  “ZOMG!  I have cute, pointy boots that are also this lovely poop color!  Let me put them on!”

(but, for real, these boots really are cute.  And, for the record, I really LOVE this color brown, but not when I am Lit-trally wearing it from head to toe)

The key issue about this isn’t the color (which makes it questionable that I am writing about the color so much, right? Once again:  AWESOME AT THE DESCRIBING OF THINGS.) (Jesus. Christ.  Enough with the goddamn parenthesis!  Why do I keep using these?), it’s that they have the little pointy heels on them too.  I do wear heels at work almost every day, but in my other life, heels are a rarity for me.  I love the way they look and sometimes pretty shoes in a store window will stop me in my tracks, but I just don’t wear them.  Before I moved here I wore flip flops every day, even in the winter, but now that I’ve decided I don’t want my toes to turn black and fall off, I’ve taken to wearing Merrils or boat shoes almost everyday.  Heeled?  Nope.  Cute?  Absolutely not.  Comfy? You bet your ass they are!  My  heels that I wear at work actually live under my desk at night, and I just change when I get here, so I never actually have to, you know, walk in them at all.  But I do walk quite a bit every day to and from the subway stations or from the train station if my train gets in a little early. 

I happen to work in a part of Boston that is rather “historic” which is a euphemism (is that right?  “A euphemism?”  Shouldn’t it be “An euphemism?”  That can’t be right though…) for “seriously wrecked sidewalks.”  There are bricks missing and unevenness and slick spots and all sorts of precariousness, which makes for awesome walking conditions.  Especially walking in clicky boots with high, skinny heels.  I, miraculously, did not actually face-plant into the sidewalk, but I was close.  And of course my feet are SCREAMING at me today for it.  Like, owy-owy-ouch, my feet motherfucking hurt like you wouldn’t believe. 

Now I remember why I’ve owned these boots for 6 years and have only worn them 5 or 6 times.  And why I generally don’t walk across Boston in shoes like this.  The warm weather is addling my mind and forcing me to make questionable fashion decisions!  My number one thing I am looking forward to about summer:  breaking out the flip flops again.  It can’t wait.


Just dropping in to let y’all know that yesterday someone got to my blog by googling “old lady porn.”

 Which…eww.  And also they must be crazy dissapointed.  As are all the people who are now getting to my blog because I wrote the actual phrase “old lady porn.”

More than you wanted to know about a random subway guy

(First:  If already got this on your feed reader, sorry about that.  I formatted it all wrong and didn’t realize it until it was sent out.  Also, I know that the font is weird looking and small.  Sorry about that, too) 

Ok.  I know things are getting bad when my mom starts calling me to harass me about the fact that I haven’t updated my blog in a fortnight.  I mean, at least she isn’t calling me to harass me about getting married or having kids or something, because that would get old IMMEDIATELY and I would probably run out and have my girl parts fixed so I couldn’t have kids just to spite her.  Don’t you wish I was your daughter?

 So I’m actually not going to spend this post writing about how busy and tired and worn smack out I am (except that: Y’all, I am so busy and tired and I am worn smack out by all of this!  When does the getting used to waking up at 6:30 5:30 start?  When do I get to be able to actually function during the week and do all the cooking a cleaning and laundry and such that I need to?  Because it’s starting to kinda pile up.  Like, I need to win the lottery right now because this whole working thing?  Not so great.  I wish starving to death wasn’t so bad, otherwise I’d still just do that.) 

But we’re not talking about that, remember?  I actually have a story to tell you about Boston!  So, if you look over in that little sidebar over there you’ll see a link to one of my all-time favorite websites: Overheard in New York.  If you haven’t been there before, then you should probably do that (and by do that I mean WHY IN THE HELL AREN’T YOU TAKING MY WEBSITE RECOMMENDATIONS SERIOUSLY??).  This website is a collection of thousands and thousands of random snippets over conversations that have been overheard around the city of New York (they’ve also branched out now into an “overheard everywhere” site, but I haven’t really been checking that one much.  The “overheard in the office” is also very funny).  Some of them are funny in their own right, but most of them are funny because they are taken so far out of context that it’s a riot.  Anyway, go look at it for a bit. 

Now as soon as I started commuting (like a big girl!) to work, I was all excited because I figured that I would hear all sorts of hilarious things on the subway . That hasn’t been the case so much, though, because apparently people on the subway are filled with a glum distress that manifests itself with nothing so much as blank and/or bitter stares and the occasional grunt as someone crushes them into a wall or elbow or bar or something else uncomfortable.  The subway rides here are very quiet (and mercifully quick).  They are also very crowded, especially since I am in them at the worst possible times of 8:15 and 5:00. And then, last week, I finally got my wish as I overheard what was one of the most hilarious things I have ever heard. 

I was on the Orange Line at 5:03 and it was very crowded.  Being one of the first people in, I was able to get a seat before the car filled up too much.  A group of three 20-ish guys got on right at the last minute and stood in front of me, maybe 6 inches away from me.  It was very crowded.  One of them was taking about his roommates and he was complaining about one of them. 

Guy #1:  I just hate him so much.  He’s so obnoxious

Guy #2:  Why don’t you just move out?

Guy #1:  Well, I really like all my other roommates and the house is great

Guy #3:  How many roommates do you have?

Guy #1:  Four

Guy #3: How many bedrooms?

Guy #1: Only two bedrooms and we just have one bathroom

Guy #2: Yikes!  That must be really crowded

Guy #1:  Well, it’s good because we all keep different schedules.  We aren’t on top of each other all the time.  I mean, you know, I’ve got time to shave my balls

 Guy #2:  *shocked silence*

Guy#3:  Dude.  I cannot believe that you just said that on a packed train.  Dude. 

I mean really!  Can you even BELIEVE that he said that?  And there were at least 20 people about 7 inches away from this guy’s head!  And he wasn’t speaking quietly!  I thought that I. Would. Die.  I tried SO HARD not to dissolve into uncontrollable laughs that I think I probably ruptured my duodenum, whatever the hell that is.  

 That shit is the reason that I’m willing to get up so early. 

Brief, yes, but that is all the time I can spare

OK, sorry for the rapidity of this post, but believe me when I tell you I am simply too busy.  That isn’t just lip service, I swear!  This is actually the first time I have had more than 5 minutes to sit down at my computer since Friday, and I had a lot of emails to sift through.

Here’s the gist:

1.  Was in Alabama.  Lovely, chilly, and I came home with about 6 pounds of beef that was at one point hand-fed by my mother.  If the cuteness of the cow was any indication, it’s going to taste delicious.

2.  Started work on Monday morning, but only after not getting home until 2:30 AM due to the rapid accumulation of snow on our back-country roads and the total lack of snow-plowing.  And we didn’t have Pete’s giant truck with us.  Needless to say, I think I left permanent indentations in the dashboard of his mother’s Volvo (because there was no way in hell we could take my little Kia home, which was left at his parent’s house when they took us to the airport) and probably lost years off my life.  There was much skidding.  And y’all know what happened last time.

3.  Am more exhausted than I have been in a very long time, what with the previously mentioned lack of sleep on Sunday night and the fact that I’ve been getting up at 5:30 AM.  I have never in my life gotten up at 5:30 AM on any kind of regular basis.  Especially when I’ve spent the last 4 months languishing in bed until 9:30.  ( I know, cry me a river and such.  I’m not trying to make you feel sorry for me, just trying to make you understand my exhaustion)  Last night I was asleep by 9:30 PM, and it was perfect, but I’m still slight deprived.

4.  Um, Boston is full of germy people, and I have to be thisfuckingclose to them for my entire subway ride.  The crush of people is both exhilarating and alarming, but I have found myself washing my hands obsessively every day.  I am TERRIFIED of their yucky germs.  Now I know what happened to Howard Hughes.  I’m about 3 days away from peeing in bottles and wearing kleenex boxes on my feet.

(I really wanted to insert a picture of Mr. Burns when he went through his Howard Hughes faze, but I just don’t have the energy to do it right now, and my bed is looking mighty comfy.  Just google it yourself, k?)

(Was that rude?  I didn’t mean it to be rude.  I’m sorry.)

5.  Loving the job so far.  Still very hectic and I don’t know the names of 75% of the 49 people who work in my office.  Lots to learn.

6.  I walked outside this morning and it was 41 degrees outside and there is still a very thick blanket of snow.  So I says to Pete, I says:  “Holy shit!  It’s so warm out here.”  I am slightly concerned I might be losing my mind.

Now sleep.  Later more posty, maybe.