Friday, November 20, 2009
JILLY--BY MY COMPUTER CLOCK THAT WAS PUBLISHED AT 11:58PM EST. (Right at the very last minute...in keeping with my usual M. O.)
as promised...
...buuugggghhhh, I'm still feeling rather blogstipated, but I'm just going to start stream-of-conscience blathering about random, inconsequential crap, and hopefully that will "prime the pump"
I was SOOO horribly hagged out today. Granted it was our bi-monthly ok-to-wear-jeans day, but I took casual Fri to a WHOLE. 'NUTHA. LEVEL. Seriously, I made Nick Nolte's mugshot look hubba hubba. For the record, I would *never* have gone out somewhere after work looking like that, not even on an errand to Walgreens, but the fact that I'm apathetic to looking like sleestack guano at the office...well, I hate to concur with those dress-code-section-of-the-employee-handbook authors, but yes, my mode of dress and grooming is a reflection of my attitude toward the VNA. I'M OVERWORKED AND UNDERPAID, BITCHES!! Please, send me home for dissheveledness--I beg ya to.
As you'd likely presumed, I did not wear makeup today. And I've sprouted this facial blemish that is oddly positioned midway between the corner of my right eye and my right temple. So, as it happens, I do need to make a run to Walgreens...to avail myself of some sort of cover-up stick. I suppose, until I procure some, I do have black eyeliner --maybe I could morph it into a sort of homage-to-Audrey Horne beauty mark.
Tomorrow I'm going Christmas shopping-up to Williston, I think-with my Mom, my sister, the 4 kiddos, & my Aunt Laurel. So I'm assuming it's not going to be all that productive. I really do my best shopping on my own (a lone wolf) but I work pretty well in a group of 2 or 3. But tomorrow I probably won't get anything accomplished and I think I'll go out solo on Sunday. Not sure where I'll go on Sunday, but I'm thinking about checking out this mall . I gotta figure out how to find it, but after successfully making the 5 hr trek down & back from Elizabeth NJ last weekend, I'm feeling damned intrepid. (I had me a bit of a mini-holiday last weekend- toured a bit of NJ & NYC. You can check out the pics here. It's very nearly a photo-essay, I got so longwinded in my captions) I became smitten with the Tom-Tom I was borrowing. Although the one I had was a very entry-level bottom-of-the-line device. The one I added to my Amazon wish list was the TomTom ONE 140-S , which is a couple notches better.
But back to Christmas shopping: Ho HO HUMMmmm...ZZzzz. I am considerably less than stoked. Can't get in the holiday spirit. But I feel like I oughtta get myself in the spirit because, as one of my annoying coworkers annoyingly pointed out: only 3 more paychecks until Christmas. I *really* do love the sights & sounds & traditions of Christmas, very much so, but I'm feeling kind of overwhelmed at the outset. I always resolve to simplify Christmas, really enjoy it, but not go overboard with it, but I have this image in my head of the holiday season being like double Dutch jumproping or a whirlpool-- once you get into it, you're in it, and powerless over what the pace is, regardless of what your initial intentions were. OK, I confess..I have no firsthand experience whatsoever when it comes to Double Dutch. I've seen it done on Sesame Street though, and probably in a few other places on the telly and I think I get the general idea (idea, yes. In practice though, I suspect I would crack a femur *and* manage to get myself strangled) I do know a thing or two about whirlpools. Well, not naturally occurring ones, I should specify. Growing up, my family always had Labor Day parties at my Uncle Bud's house. During these festivities, all the cousins thought it just incredibly, unspeakably fun to run circles around the inner perimeter of the above-ground pool there. And run, and run (more like jog..the water resistance prevents you from a flat-out sprint, obviously. There was a lot of dramatic slo-mo running like I imagine I'd have seen in Chariots of Fire had I ever bothered to check that flick out. Not really into sporty movies...but I digress) until we'd manufactured a mighty current and then we'd just bob along in a circular motion, chortling at what clever little moppets we were . Whaddya want ? It was an above ground swimming pool--hardly the venue for swim races.
Anyways, the holiday season is something like that. Except with me hemorrhaging massive amounts of dinero. On a positive note though, I spelled "hemorrhaging" right on the first try without consulting a dictionary (until afterwards, to see if I got it right. And I did!! "Hemhorrhage" is a tricky bastard of a word...as is "hemorrhoid")
One thing I am excited about for the holidays is this TV special. Some people get all riotous over vampires and werewolves macking on sulky teenage outcast chicks... but I geek out over Cranford (and the like) Actually, if there was a specialty cable channel that played Brit lit adaptations/ period romance sort of fare, I might just be motivated to start paying for cable...
I was SOOO horribly hagged out today. Granted it was our bi-monthly ok-to-wear-jeans day, but I took casual Fri to a WHOLE. 'NUTHA. LEVEL. Seriously, I made Nick Nolte's mugshot look hubba hubba. For the record, I would *never* have gone out somewhere after work looking like that, not even on an errand to Walgreens, but the fact that I'm apathetic to looking like sleestack guano at the office...well, I hate to concur with those dress-code-section-of-the-employee-handbook authors, but yes, my mode of dress and grooming is a reflection of my attitude toward the VNA. I'M OVERWORKED AND UNDERPAID, BITCHES!! Please, send me home for dissheveledness--I beg ya to.
As you'd likely presumed, I did not wear makeup today. And I've sprouted this facial blemish that is oddly positioned midway between the corner of my right eye and my right temple. So, as it happens, I do need to make a run to Walgreens...to avail myself of some sort of cover-up stick. I suppose, until I procure some, I do have black eyeliner --maybe I could morph it into a sort of homage-to-Audrey Horne beauty mark.
Tomorrow I'm going Christmas shopping-up to Williston, I think-with my Mom, my sister, the 4 kiddos, & my Aunt Laurel. So I'm assuming it's not going to be all that productive. I really do my best shopping on my own (a lone wolf) but I work pretty well in a group of 2 or 3. But tomorrow I probably won't get anything accomplished and I think I'll go out solo on Sunday. Not sure where I'll go on Sunday, but I'm thinking about checking out this mall . I gotta figure out how to find it, but after successfully making the 5 hr trek down & back from Elizabeth NJ last weekend, I'm feeling damned intrepid. (I had me a bit of a mini-holiday last weekend- toured a bit of NJ & NYC. You can check out the pics here. It's very nearly a photo-essay, I got so longwinded in my captions) I became smitten with the Tom-Tom I was borrowing. Although the one I had was a very entry-level bottom-of-the-line device. The one I added to my Amazon wish list was the TomTom ONE 140-S , which is a couple notches better.
But back to Christmas shopping: Ho HO HUMMmmm...ZZzzz. I am considerably less than stoked. Can't get in the holiday spirit. But I feel like I oughtta get myself in the spirit because, as one of my annoying coworkers annoyingly pointed out: only 3 more paychecks until Christmas. I *really* do love the sights & sounds & traditions of Christmas, very much so, but I'm feeling kind of overwhelmed at the outset. I always resolve to simplify Christmas, really enjoy it, but not go overboard with it, but I have this image in my head of the holiday season being like double Dutch jumproping or a whirlpool-- once you get into it, you're in it, and powerless over what the pace is, regardless of what your initial intentions were. OK, I confess..I have no firsthand experience whatsoever when it comes to Double Dutch. I've seen it done on Sesame Street though, and probably in a few other places on the telly and I think I get the general idea (idea, yes. In practice though, I suspect I would crack a femur *and* manage to get myself strangled) I do know a thing or two about whirlpools. Well, not naturally occurring ones, I should specify. Growing up, my family always had Labor Day parties at my Uncle Bud's house. During these festivities, all the cousins thought it just incredibly, unspeakably fun to run circles around the inner perimeter of the above-ground pool there. And run, and run (more like jog..the water resistance prevents you from a flat-out sprint, obviously. There was a lot of dramatic slo-mo running like I imagine I'd have seen in Chariots of Fire had I ever bothered to check that flick out. Not really into sporty movies...but I digress) until we'd manufactured a mighty current and then we'd just bob along in a circular motion, chortling at what clever little moppets we were . Whaddya want ? It was an above ground swimming pool--hardly the venue for swim races.
Anyways, the holiday season is something like that. Except with me hemorrhaging massive amounts of dinero. On a positive note though, I spelled "hemorrhaging" right on the first try without consulting a dictionary (until afterwards, to see if I got it right. And I did!! "Hemhorrhage" is a tricky bastard of a word...as is "hemorrhoid")
One thing I am excited about for the holidays is this TV special. Some people get all riotous over vampires and werewolves macking on sulky teenage outcast chicks... but I geek out over Cranford (and the like) Actually, if there was a specialty cable channel that played Brit lit adaptations/ period romance sort of fare, I might just be motivated to start paying for cable...
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
I also don't believe...
I've had a posting drought of nearly 1 month. I'm so disappointed in meself!
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Halloween costumes
I procrastinated (procrastinating is a specialty of mine, you know)on deciding on a Halloween costume and now that the big day is fast approaching well....I'm thinking of dressing up as a scarecrow. Sadly, I do own a pair of overalls. I mean, let the record show that I've not worn said overalls since the mid-nineties, I just don't throw anything away. So, it seems like, with overalls at the ready, I have only a few other elements I need to gather for a scarecrow get up. I've even bought some raffia (looked less itchy than hay) for peeking out of my shirt cuffs/neck. So I'm halfway resigned to scarecrowdom but.... scarecrow just feels like one of those "I'm-gradually-giving-up-on-Halloween" type costumes. Another example of this type costume (an extreme example) is my brother-in-law : he was given a pair of scrubs at the birth of one of his kiddos and that has been his go-to "costume" every year my sister has been successful in badgering him to dress up for Halloween-- Dr. Greg. Laaaaaame.
I don't wanna be lame!! I f-ing LOVE Halloween!! It's my dang birthday!! I wish I knew how to sew or that I had mad money to fritter away on a costume. I wonder how much $$$ it takes to whip up one of these costumes?Then, not only would I be able to take PRIDE in my Halloween costume, but I would also enjoy the excuse to answer everything with "Yyyyyip yip yipyip yip UH HUH" for an entire night.
Oh, I dunno. Sandra is RACKED WITH INDECISION. Scarecrow may be out. Anybody wanna buy some raffia?
I don't wanna be lame!! I f-ing LOVE Halloween!! It's my dang birthday!! I wish I knew how to sew or that I had mad money to fritter away on a costume. I wonder how much $$$ it takes to whip up one of these costumes?Then, not only would I be able to take PRIDE in my Halloween costume, but I would also enjoy the excuse to answer everything with "Yyyyyip yip yipyip yip UH HUH" for an entire night.
Oh, I dunno. Sandra is RACKED WITH INDECISION. Scarecrow may be out. Anybody wanna buy some raffia?
Saturday, October 17, 2009
baaaaaaah. I feel blogstipated. Someone feed me a topic & I'll do my best to try and run w/ it. Come ooooon...
Thursday, October 08, 2009
my car and I are both eeeeediots...
I ran out of gas on the interstate this evening. That sort of half sucks. I mean, it's certainly not a tremendous amount of fun, but there's also that big rush of relief when you discover that your car is not egregiously fucked up after all. Just needed a li'l drinkie (like yours truly, after the week I's been having). I mean, in retrospect, it seems obvious that it was outta gas-- it started getting all "chuggy" acting, like it did that one other time a few years ago when I ran outta gas, and it was behaving just Wayne's car does in the nail-biting climactic ending of Wayne's World 2 (*SPOILER ALERT*:he ran out of gas). But at the time of the breakdown, I was thinking it could be **anything** and it sure felt like it HAD to be the most catastrophic of catastrophic vehicular failures. Yep..zero to panic mode in 1.3 seconds....c'est moi.
I first wanna point out, in my defense, that my car has looong had a busted sending unit and my gas light will oftentimes come on after I just filled my tank. Basically the gas gauge has no significance whatsoever. So I just hit the tripometer every time I fill up and then at around 300 miles travelled I fill it again. I mean, figuring I get 20 miles to the gallon (and I'm probably getting a bit better than that) with a 17 gallon tank, I would be able to go 340 miles on a full tank. So if I refuel everytime I hit 300, I'm giving myself a decent buffer. My tripometer today? Read 270 miles. What the fuck, right? I must not have filled the tank the last time I "filled up" (I don't really remember whether I did or not). That's the only way thing that makes sense though.
Oh, and in semi-related news. I thought MY BRAKES were going to shit last night. They sounded all hissy and the pedal was going down to the floor a bit further than it had been. Now I don't know if those are the usual symptoms of driving 13miles with your e-brake on, but that's what I did last night. Y'see, I went to my friend Roxanny's for dinner & a flick (I've been on a helluva Vincent Price kick, but last night we went for a cinematic change-o'-pace and watched Kiss Kiss Bang Bang). Upon arrival, when I parked on her slopey driveway, I pushed down my e-brake pedal and thought "Don't forget you have your e-brake on!!" I know what you're thinking ...that I forgot. Oh, ye have little faith!! I did not back up so much as an inch without pulling that brake release lever...or..ummm...what I thought was the brake release lever. The brake release pull in my car is in the vicinity of my left knee (well, not where my left knee is now, but where it is when I am sitting in the driver's seat, stooopid!) And, just to the left of the brake release is the Open-the-hood pull. And that is what I pulled last night when I left Rox's . FAAAAAANTASTICO!! No, I didn't have a scary, hood-flying-up&obscuring-my-vision moment while driving (like in Tommy Boy....or was it Black Sheep....quite possibly Planes, Trains, & Automobiles) because of that brilliant little latchy deal. Though it was a bit of a scary moment when I hopped in the jalopy this a.m. to zip off to work and I spotted how the e-brake pedal was down to the floor. Holy Fucking Mother of Charles Nelson Reilly how badly did I fuck up my car last night??? The brakes seem to be working fine. I have detected no lasting damage from the e-brake faux pas....unless the e-brake drag caused me to expend 10X the normal amount of gas to drive that 13 miles than I normally would , thereby leading to this afternoon's predicament. But I really think that had to be me not filling up fully...had to be.
I thought the cigarette lighter was the automotive equivalent of an appendix, but now I'm rethinking that. I'm wondering if the fucking e-brake does ANYTHING at all...
I first wanna point out, in my defense, that my car has looong had a busted sending unit and my gas light will oftentimes come on after I just filled my tank. Basically the gas gauge has no significance whatsoever. So I just hit the tripometer every time I fill up and then at around 300 miles travelled I fill it again. I mean, figuring I get 20 miles to the gallon (and I'm probably getting a bit better than that) with a 17 gallon tank, I would be able to go 340 miles on a full tank. So if I refuel everytime I hit 300, I'm giving myself a decent buffer. My tripometer today? Read 270 miles. What the fuck, right? I must not have filled the tank the last time I "filled up" (I don't really remember whether I did or not). That's the only way thing that makes sense though.
Oh, and in semi-related news. I thought MY BRAKES were going to shit last night. They sounded all hissy and the pedal was going down to the floor a bit further than it had been. Now I don't know if those are the usual symptoms of driving 13miles with your e-brake on, but that's what I did last night. Y'see, I went to my friend Roxanny's for dinner & a flick (I've been on a helluva Vincent Price kick, but last night we went for a cinematic change-o'-pace and watched Kiss Kiss Bang Bang). Upon arrival, when I parked on her slopey driveway, I pushed down my e-brake pedal and thought "Don't forget you have your e-brake on!!" I know what you're thinking ...that I forgot. Oh, ye have little faith!! I did not back up so much as an inch without pulling that brake release lever...or..ummm...what I thought was the brake release lever. The brake release pull in my car is in the vicinity of my left knee (well, not where my left knee is now, but where it is when I am sitting in the driver's seat, stooopid!) And, just to the left of the brake release is the Open-the-hood pull. And that is what I pulled last night when I left Rox's . FAAAAAANTASTICO!! No, I didn't have a scary, hood-flying-up&obscuring-my-vision moment while driving (like in Tommy Boy....or was it Black Sheep....quite possibly Planes, Trains, & Automobiles) because of that brilliant little latchy deal. Though it was a bit of a scary moment when I hopped in the jalopy this a.m. to zip off to work and I spotted how the e-brake pedal was down to the floor. Holy Fucking Mother of Charles Nelson Reilly how badly did I fuck up my car last night??? The brakes seem to be working fine. I have detected no lasting damage from the e-brake faux pas....unless the e-brake drag caused me to expend 10X the normal amount of gas to drive that 13 miles than I normally would , thereby leading to this afternoon's predicament. But I really think that had to be me not filling up fully...had to be.
I thought the cigarette lighter was the automotive equivalent of an appendix, but now I'm rethinking that. I'm wondering if the fucking e-brake does ANYTHING at all...
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
miscellaneous oddments
Today I was working in the supply room unpacking boxes of envelopes and I farted. Not terribly loud. Medium loud. The unfortunate part of this scenario is that I wasn't in there alone. Larry was in there too, but he was at his desk, across the room, with a couple of metal shelving units between us, and he was listening (I hope, very intently) to Howie Carr on the radio. Also it was odorless. And, in case it was heard over the blatherings of Howie, I was careful to suppress any audible reaction (though I felt myself blush instantly) and did a brilliant job of following it up with a lot of box unpacking noises so that one might think it was an odd audio byproduct of that task...the pooting of box lids or something. (Yeah, I dunno. It was a REFLEX...not very well thought out)
Well, whether it was noticed or not, he didn't say anything and I shook off my embarrassment pretty swiftly.
In other trivial, lowbrow news, my father had to replace his toilet seat. For some unfathomable reason, he did not trudge down to Walmart like 90% of the populace would. No, he got online (part of it, I think, is he's just inordinately pleased with himself for mastering online shopping) and tracked down what I presume is the finest toilet seat known to mankind. Or I hope it is anyways...he paid $46. for it. Am I missing something? Is that the going rate for toilet seats nowadays?? I'm thinking it's a smidge pricey.
The first thing he said to me when I got here tonight was "Didja check out the bathroom??" All eager-like he was. I suppose, if I'd shilled out $46....well, if I wasn't enthused, I would make myself be... I told him for that price it should wipe your ass for you.
(I know, I know...I'm so crude. I promise my next post will be 100 x more refined)
Well, whether it was noticed or not, he didn't say anything and I shook off my embarrassment pretty swiftly.
In other trivial, lowbrow news, my father had to replace his toilet seat. For some unfathomable reason, he did not trudge down to Walmart like 90% of the populace would. No, he got online (part of it, I think, is he's just inordinately pleased with himself for mastering online shopping) and tracked down what I presume is the finest toilet seat known to mankind. Or I hope it is anyways...he paid $46. for it. Am I missing something? Is that the going rate for toilet seats nowadays?? I'm thinking it's a smidge pricey.
The first thing he said to me when I got here tonight was "Didja check out the bathroom??" All eager-like he was. I suppose, if I'd shilled out $46....well, if I wasn't enthused, I would make myself be... I told him for that price it should wipe your ass for you.
(I know, I know...I'm so crude. I promise my next post will be 100 x more refined)
Saturday, October 03, 2009
A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain
Softly blows o'er lullaby bay.
It fills the sails of boats that are waiting--
Waiting to sail your worries away.
It isn't far to Hushabye Mountain
And your boat waits down by the key.
The winds of night so softly are sighing--
Soon they will fly your troubles to sea.
So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain.
Wave good-bye to cares of the day.
And watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain
Sail far away from lullaby bay.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Watching Sadie & Lucy tonight we watched approx 1/2 of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Lots of great songs in that movie, but I think that lullaby might be my fave. And that whole scene always gets me a smidge verklempt, y'know??
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