Some Blog

I’m Busy Watching Animal Planet

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Whooops. Sorry guys. I’ve been not doing much of anything, including blogging. I don’t know, maybe tomorrow. I need a nap now.

A Little More Bliss

Thursday, May 17, 2007

Bruce came home from Europe with wine, chocolate, and a cold. I spent the day nursing cups of tea, heavy on the honey. I may have miscalculated the amount of caffeine so here I sit. Playing with the Internet. I think of the Internet as a finite amount of information and when Bruce and I speak, I often tell him I am reading the Internet. Sometimes when I am bored, I tell him I’ve read the whole Internet and am just waiting for someone to write something else for me to read. Really, the world does revolve around me.

Tonight, I did something I’ve never done, spurned on by something Bruce told me a few nights ago. He was telling me about the google search of long lost friends. I have a somewhat fatalistic approach to my friendships and am of the general opinion that I have the friends I want and the ones that were left behind, whether by distance or disdain, were just that, left behind. Not having a need to weigh myself down with those messy things like relationships and emotions, I’ve allowed myself to believe that I am behaving within normal social parameters.

Tonight I found my first long lost friend. And guess what. He died last year.

There was the flood of emotions (shock, disbelief, grief) and I suspect that is normal. But then came the wave of the other. I started to read about his life, and while it seems that he was deeply loved and will be missed by many, I wonder, is he better off? He never made it out of our town and was holding his status quo. Good ol’ boy doing what he aught to, but I wonder, was he slowly dying inside? Was he feeling shock, disbelief and grief as his dreams of getting out faded away to something so very different.

I remember the boy that caused more trouble than he was worth. I remember the boy that worked hard but was misunderstood. I remember the boy that wanted to be something, anything, that got him out of his house, out of our town. I remember a boy that had it pretty bad and knew that there had to be something more, a reason for his life.

I can’t say that there was a reason for his life. He died young and right where I left him. Behind.

I Know, I Know. I Suck.

I have a huge, and funny, and photo-full (real word what?) post just waiting to be written. It’s all in my head (that’s what the doctor said). Pussywillow was here and a’drinking we went. I played with the gays. Also I defended my gay from the masses. When I no longer suck (and my VERY sore throat goes away) I will write up about the time when Pussywillow came to town.

But for now, I read this in a comment on a forum regarding the Grey’s Anatomy finale: “Even William “Everybody Dies” Shakespeare had a clown or fool or jester in the tragedies. You need some comic relief.”

Word, dude, word.

Also, how badly do I want to have Sandra Oh’s ability to emote.

Who Is Going To Pay For My Therapy?

Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Dear National Geographic Channel,

I appreciate your dedication with regards to programming educational shows and documentaries. I have learned many an interesting fact about the natural world from a variety of your shows. In my nightly schedule of settling on my couch and turning to a station that will lull me into a comfortable pre-sleep zone, from which Bruce will move me along to the bed, I often turn to you.

However, there is something about which we must speak. Two nights ago I made a Bloody Mary for dinner and chose your station as the one to which I would pass out. All was going well and I was approaching a full sleep while your program on the hippopotamus played. Unfortunately I was jolted awake because the joyful infant hippopotamus that had been a central character in the documentary was being ravaged by a young male in the school of hippopotamus. (See, that was an interesting fact I learned, the hippopotamus lives in a school. I figured that the biologists who named the group would have called them a bulldozer or a mountain, but no, school. Since the show, I have also learned that the hippopotamus may also live in a pod, herd, or bloat. I guess my point about NGC enriching my life has been well established. Also did you know that the Skipper Caterpillar discharges it’s fecal matter by gripping the matter between its buttock muscles and propelling it many feet away?)

Back to the murder of the cute hippopotamus calf. If there had been just a violent scene wherein the big one squished and drowned the little one, that would have been bad enough. It was the high-pitch, endless screeching that lasted for about five minutes as the baby was being trashed around the watering hole that was just too much.

In closing, I understand your need for verisimilitude and realism, but hearing the death rattle of a cute baby hippopotamus may have been just a bit overboard. Metaphorically, I would say that the inclusion of that very graphic scene was an equivalent to the conversation that Monica Lewinsky had with Linda Tripp regarding the spunk on her dress after a blow job performed in a certain geometrically significant office, that is to say, completely unnecessary.

Please feel free to continue programming for my educational development, but in the future I would appreciate if you could avoid killing the cute babies while I am having my pre-sleep nap.

Many Thanks,
Some Girl

I’ll Never Learn

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

I thought I found Nirvana on a string, too bad, as always, I am disappointed. Two weeks ago I went to a new eyebrow lady. This was a final straw after a waxer took off the end of my eyebrow such that the left one had a much shorter tail than the right one. When I met the threader I explained the situation and she seemed to understand my issue. I went back today and pointed out the regrowth of the missing eyebrow. I specifically said, this is where I am trying to grow in the hair. I suppose that I should have then said, “so don’t thread this.” So, now, I am in the same place I was four weeks ago.

The place where I went for the threading was awesome. It’s the front room of a discount video store run by a Sikh Indian family. This combination leads to some excellent TV while I wait. This time there was something called “Let’s Rock” that was in a language I would guess to be Hindi. There were a variety of Indian pop stars dancing on stage to techno beats and Hindi words. I think I recognized one song that had been remixed with the Knight Rider theme song in 2003. The whole thing was hilarious, especially when the MC said: “I know this next act is who you’ve all been waiting for, and I hope you’re ready to tap you’re feet…” I know that the culture is so different and I get that the polite applause and the bobbing of heads is what one does in Indian society. But what made the whole thing awesome was the commercial break. The “back after these messages” thingy had a cartooned image of Slash.

The juxtaposition of the Indian music, the restrained audience and Slash made the visit worthwhile. I figure that I will have to spend the next four months growing out the brows and then I will try her again, if only for the free entertainment.

Happily, the remote was in the office

I lost the remote. I had it, I changed the channel to avoid the annoying commercial, I went to change the channel again and the remote was gone. I hadn’t gone far so I decided to retrace my steps. I opened the freezer, then the fridge. I rummaged around in the bag of potatoes and then turned to the oven. Without thinking, I opened the oven. I think that if the remote control was in the oven I would have figured that out well before I started looking, the smoke and smell would be my first clues. I just don’t know what I was thinking when I checked the oven.

Question of The Day

Sunday, May 06, 2007

Henry VIII, how did it all go wrong?

From Here To Eternity Part Deux

Bruce is away again. It seems like we trade travel dates. When he gets back we have a few weeks of hereness before I head for Texas. Then I go to New York and Boston. A month later I have trips to Boston and London. Then LA, New York, Naples (Florida) and possibly somewheres exotic for a vacation at the end of the year. And of course Bruce will have work trips in between all this as well. Add in the requisite holiday/family trips and we are two busy beavers. (I said beavers.)

Bruce had a moment of lost sanity before he left for his business trip. He went to pack and couldn’t find his underwear. I found him wandering around, looking in baskets, looking in the clothes dryer, and still muttering about not being able to find any underwear. I finally tired of his muttering and went into the bedroom wherein I promptly pulled out seven pairs of underwear. Bruce, for the first time in over a year, looked chagrined. He did a laugh, turned bright red and tried to act like the socks had blocked his view.

There were some other minor issues, like finding a plug adapter for the country in question; finding out that Bruce’s hotel was in a country other than the one he was visiting; Bruce realizing that he would have to cross an International border to get to his meetings each day; and me realizing that we didn’t have any lemon pie.

It’s okay though, everything worked out, we have a strawberry pie.

Make The Bad Man Stop

Friday, May 04, 2007

Someone in the building has a new puppy. I am guessing they didn’t take a few days off to help regulate. The whimpering started at 9 AM and for the last three hours I’ve endured the noise.

I know this is just what happens with a new puppy, but the thing about it is, the person with the puppy isn’t actually listening to the whining because they went to work. I am the one being tortured. I am about to go wander the hallways and leave a note. Imagine I worked from home and this interfered with my ability to work. I know, that I don’t, but so not the point.

No More Animal Prints

Tuesday, May 01, 2007

Those bitches.

So when I was picking through the Target bags I noticed a top was missing. I called the store and gave them the pertinent information. The customer service rep found the shirt at the register and told me I could come in and pick it up. When I returned to Target there was a line at customer service so I figured that a run through the shoe section was a good idea (as I had neglected to do so earlier in the day).

The fruits of my labor, two pairs of super cute wedges. I could have bought more, but decided to skip the last two isles. I was concerned that someone (Hi Bruce) would think that I was becoming too much of a shoe whore. Buying only two pairs helps me level out as a shoe slut. (There has been an argument made about the need for shoes for work. I wonder how long that type of excuse is going to work?)

When I returned to customer service the line was gone, as was my top. There was a protracted scrambled. There were people called and people calling. There was a t-shirt from the men’s section. There was finally the right top (I went to the floor and grabbed it). When the whole verify and enter something into the computer process began the register system crashed. She tried the next register and the same thing happened. And then the next one. Finally the shirt was jammed into a bag, handed to me, and I was told, “just take it .”

Way to be awesome. Up next, what color is my hair?