Stressing over a few things today, but even so, I had to report in briefly.
First Possibly Irish Danny sighting in 6 months! Not on his usual bus, and I was too far away to hear what he was talking about, alas, but my boy seemed in good spirits. And when I walked by him on my way off, I saw that both his hands are entirely covered in new ink.
So maybe he's just been spending a lot of quality time with his tattoo artist rather than riding back and forth aimlessly on public transportation, diverting me with his mysterious conversations!
xoxo
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
ooooooo
The FIOS guy has already come and gone. I had, according to him, the ideal setup for an install and a beautifully clean garage. Okay, I'm lying about the garage.
Now excuse me while I go spend the rest of my life watching youtube and downloading music.
xoxo
Now excuse me while I go spend the rest of my life watching youtube and downloading music.
xoxo
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
voting hijinks
So, you'll remember my little screed a couple weeks or so ago about the American public being, by and large, too stoopid for democracy? Here's my polling place story for this election cycle.
Having the lovely, non-traditional work schedule that I do (and can I just, as an aside, say that if I ever had to go back to working 7:30-4 [or 9-5 or what have you] Monday through Friday as I did for so many years, I would probably commit suicide or homicide within six months; this is such a more pleasant way to live) I was able to go vote in the middle of the afternoon. Small-to-no line, no waiting. I was telling the gentleman at the table my street address so he could check me off in his ledger and give me my ballot, when a woman comes rushing up. "Do I need to live in Lynn to vote here?"
The two people behind the table look at her with barely restrained incredulity. "Um, yes, yes you do."
Heavy sigh. "You mean I have to go all the way to Peabody to vote?"
Okay. Let's recap. This woman is not 18 or 22 or under 25 at all. She is over 30. She is also most definitely not an immigrant. Now, I most definitely can't, and shouldn't, be one to throw stones. It's only been maybe within the last ten years that I've become conscientious about voting. Before that I was very laissez faire about voting, the political process, and politics in general, feeling mostly that my vote was meaningless, and the choice was usually between one guy I didn't like and another guy I didn't like even more. I still actually feel that way a lot of the time, but I've changed my mind about voting. I think it's important to do because I can do it, and now I vote in every election. But be that as it may, even the very first election I (probably) apathetically voted in, I educated myself about where I was supposed to go and what I was supposed to do and what my ward and precinct were.
I guess getting out the new voters is probably a noble endeavor, but really, I'd prefer we stick to ones who could be arsed to find out how the whole thing works, y'know? It's not that difficult.
In other election news my dad's pissed at me for voting for Obama, because I was supposed to vote for the former prisoner of war. On no other grounds at all. Because my dad's a veteran. Srsly. See above: American people too stoopid for democracy.
xoxo
Having the lovely, non-traditional work schedule that I do (and can I just, as an aside, say that if I ever had to go back to working 7:30-4 [or 9-5 or what have you] Monday through Friday as I did for so many years, I would probably commit suicide or homicide within six months; this is such a more pleasant way to live) I was able to go vote in the middle of the afternoon. Small-to-no line, no waiting. I was telling the gentleman at the table my street address so he could check me off in his ledger and give me my ballot, when a woman comes rushing up. "Do I need to live in Lynn to vote here?"
The two people behind the table look at her with barely restrained incredulity. "Um, yes, yes you do."
Heavy sigh. "You mean I have to go all the way to Peabody to vote?"
Okay. Let's recap. This woman is not 18 or 22 or under 25 at all. She is over 30. She is also most definitely not an immigrant. Now, I most definitely can't, and shouldn't, be one to throw stones. It's only been maybe within the last ten years that I've become conscientious about voting. Before that I was very laissez faire about voting, the political process, and politics in general, feeling mostly that my vote was meaningless, and the choice was usually between one guy I didn't like and another guy I didn't like even more. I still actually feel that way a lot of the time, but I've changed my mind about voting. I think it's important to do because I can do it, and now I vote in every election. But be that as it may, even the very first election I (probably) apathetically voted in, I educated myself about where I was supposed to go and what I was supposed to do and what my ward and precinct were.
I guess getting out the new voters is probably a noble endeavor, but really, I'd prefer we stick to ones who could be arsed to find out how the whole thing works, y'know? It's not that difficult.
In other election news my dad's pissed at me for voting for Obama, because I was supposed to vote for the former prisoner of war. On no other grounds at all. Because my dad's a veteran. Srsly. See above: American people too stoopid for democracy.
xoxo
Monday, November 3, 2008
oh! part deux
In more proof that everything is, apparently, coming up roses in my universe (and that I just can't keep myself from shameless self-promotion) I am one of the winners of that award I was nominated for.
Alas, the winners do not get taken out to PF Chang's to be feted. We get a cafeteria breakfast. It's the thought that counts, right?
xoxo
Alas, the winners do not get taken out to PF Chang's to be feted. We get a cafeteria breakfast. It's the thought that counts, right?
xoxo
oh!
I forgot the most important news. Yes, I know there's a historic election tomorrow, the economy's tanking, and there's still a war on. That is bigger than that. They're opening a...wait for it...keep waiting...a PF Chang's next to the Cheesecake Factory in Peabody. OMG! Maybe even OMFG! Stop smirking. I do know that PF Chang's has the same relationship to actual Chinese food as the margaritas with chips n' salsa I enjoy at Border Cafe do to anything you'd actually consume in Mexico. I don't care. I'm not a duck's foot soup kinda girl; I'm a kung pao chicken kinda girl. I like PF Chang's. I like the food, I like the drinks, I like the little eensy desserts.
And they built me one at the North Shore Mall just so I'd have somewhere to replenish myself after shoe shopping (if they ever open that Nordstroms, that is). Thanks, Powers-that-be!
xoxo
And they built me one at the North Shore Mall just so I'd have somewhere to replenish myself after shoe shopping (if they ever open that Nordstroms, that is). Thanks, Powers-that-be!
xoxo
Sunday, November 2, 2008
brief update
I have this whole post in my head I wanted to write about this insight I had this weekend on my feelings about art and the artistic process and my artistic process, if I do, in fact, have one, that was all triggered by the Tori n' Neil post I wrote Friday, but...I'm too tired. (I have the feeling most if not all of you just thought, Whew! That was a close one!)
Why I am too tired? Besides the garage cleaning? I think I have some kind of cleaning/organizing ADD. I set out to do one project and one project only, which in this case was to straighten up the garage enough that the Verizon FIOS guy who is coming on Wednesday to install my super-high-speed internet (be jellus) could get to the place where my phone line enters my house and do his thing. I got that accomplished with much less agita than I was anticipating, partly because my dad, when he realized what I was doing, came out and pitched in. Which, to be fair, he really should have, because 95% of that mess was of his making.
But before I started doing *that*, which was yesterday, on Friday we had a little minor trauma in that one of the blinds in my dining room/living room broke. So rather than buy and put up a new blind, which I hate anyway, I decided to just get some curtain panels to put under the valances that were already on those windows. Stopped at Target on my way home (early) Friday, got curtains, washed and put up curtains, saw how much better that room looked with new curtains and started rearranging furniture and decluttering. Then massive vacuuming. That took all Friday late afternoon into evening, until the Halloween festivities started. And it looks so much better, even though I'm desperately in need of new living room furniture. (There's a sofa I lurvvve in the Pottery Barn catalogue, which in the fabric I'd chose [velvet] is $1999. Just for the sofa. Fuck you, Pottery Barn!) Where was I?
Oh, yeah, so after garage cleaning yesterday, I started with getting my recycling ready. There was a crapload of empty cardboard boxes in the garage, lemme tell you. I haven't even dealt with them all yet. This morning I came down, re-vacuumed because everything got tracked in from the garage and the recycling, looked at what I'd done in the living room/dining room and was pleased, but had some ideas popping in about what to do next. One of the things I had taken out in the de-cluttering was this teeny, ostensibly-sewing-machine, table of my mom's which had just been jammed in, blocking a window for no apparent reason. I had put it in the hallway temporarily to hold the Halloween candy. So today I thought, hey, I could keep that there, put the two candle holders that are in the massage room that I love but that don't go with my colors upstairs anymore on it, put the "window" mirror that I've been equivocating about moving or painting over it, then move those wall hangings... You get the idea. I cannibalized a whole bunch of stuff from other rooms to make a little entryway display. (As I said to my dad, oh, look! Now we have a foyer! It was pretty funny. We're white trash. We don't have foyers.)
Then I went out and got a couple other things that moving the things I moved made me realize I needed. Reorganizing ADD, seriously. One project snowballs into ten. So, while I got a lot accomplished, I've still got many other things that need doing. And I'm tired. Yet overstimulated.
So I think I'll finish doing laundry, then retire to my bed for some Torchwood dvds.
xoxo
Why I am too tired? Besides the garage cleaning? I think I have some kind of cleaning/organizing ADD. I set out to do one project and one project only, which in this case was to straighten up the garage enough that the Verizon FIOS guy who is coming on Wednesday to install my super-high-speed internet (be jellus) could get to the place where my phone line enters my house and do his thing. I got that accomplished with much less agita than I was anticipating, partly because my dad, when he realized what I was doing, came out and pitched in. Which, to be fair, he really should have, because 95% of that mess was of his making.
But before I started doing *that*, which was yesterday, on Friday we had a little minor trauma in that one of the blinds in my dining room/living room broke. So rather than buy and put up a new blind, which I hate anyway, I decided to just get some curtain panels to put under the valances that were already on those windows. Stopped at Target on my way home (early) Friday, got curtains, washed and put up curtains, saw how much better that room looked with new curtains and started rearranging furniture and decluttering. Then massive vacuuming. That took all Friday late afternoon into evening, until the Halloween festivities started. And it looks so much better, even though I'm desperately in need of new living room furniture. (There's a sofa I lurvvve in the Pottery Barn catalogue, which in the fabric I'd chose [velvet] is $1999. Just for the sofa. Fuck you, Pottery Barn!) Where was I?
Oh, yeah, so after garage cleaning yesterday, I started with getting my recycling ready. There was a crapload of empty cardboard boxes in the garage, lemme tell you. I haven't even dealt with them all yet. This morning I came down, re-vacuumed because everything got tracked in from the garage and the recycling, looked at what I'd done in the living room/dining room and was pleased, but had some ideas popping in about what to do next. One of the things I had taken out in the de-cluttering was this teeny, ostensibly-sewing-machine, table of my mom's which had just been jammed in, blocking a window for no apparent reason. I had put it in the hallway temporarily to hold the Halloween candy. So today I thought, hey, I could keep that there, put the two candle holders that are in the massage room that I love but that don't go with my colors upstairs anymore on it, put the "window" mirror that I've been equivocating about moving or painting over it, then move those wall hangings... You get the idea. I cannibalized a whole bunch of stuff from other rooms to make a little entryway display. (As I said to my dad, oh, look! Now we have a foyer! It was pretty funny. We're white trash. We don't have foyers.)
Then I went out and got a couple other things that moving the things I moved made me realize I needed. Reorganizing ADD, seriously. One project snowballs into ten. So, while I got a lot accomplished, I've still got many other things that need doing. And I'm tired. Yet overstimulated.
So I think I'll finish doing laundry, then retire to my bed for some Torchwood dvds.
xoxo
Saturday, November 1, 2008
more hgtv
While I was hanging around waiting for adorable children in costumes to come to my door last night, I was watching TV in that I-know-I-need-something-I-don't-have-to-pay-attention-to way. Which means, usually, HGTV. "Property Virgins" was on. There was a young couple, not even married yet, looking for (duh) their first house. Both of them were living at home with the folks, the guy in his family's basement, where they forced him to keep his dress clothes for work in the garage. To get a shirt, he had to climb over the lawn mower. It was kind of hilarious.
However, it didn't take much TV viewing to see why, if you were forced to provide room and board for the guy, *you'd* exile him to places you store the power tools too. God, what an annoying pair. They hated everything. All the kitchens were too small and had no storage. For all the gourmet cooking equipment they didn't have, you understand. The man/boy was primarily interested in whether there was a nice basement space for his big screen TV. Which, of course, he didn't own either. They seemed totally clueless that what they had to spend was not going to magically buy them the high end living space they had in their heads.
But what really really amused and perplexed me was that they were very nonplussed that two of the houses they looked at had only one bathroom in the upper floors and one in the basement. "That means if people came to the house, they'd have to use our bathroom. I'm not sure I'd like that," the woman worried.
Excuse me? Are you in the habit of inviting friends and family whose butts you *wouldn't* want on your toilet seat to your house? Really? Is that an OCD germaphobe thing or something? But then it struck me. That's not the reason. She just wants to be able to leave the sex toys drying on the sink and not worry about putting them away before Aunt Ruthie stops by.
Can't fool me.
xoxo
However, it didn't take much TV viewing to see why, if you were forced to provide room and board for the guy, *you'd* exile him to places you store the power tools too. God, what an annoying pair. They hated everything. All the kitchens were too small and had no storage. For all the gourmet cooking equipment they didn't have, you understand. The man/boy was primarily interested in whether there was a nice basement space for his big screen TV. Which, of course, he didn't own either. They seemed totally clueless that what they had to spend was not going to magically buy them the high end living space they had in their heads.
But what really really amused and perplexed me was that they were very nonplussed that two of the houses they looked at had only one bathroom in the upper floors and one in the basement. "That means if people came to the house, they'd have to use our bathroom. I'm not sure I'd like that," the woman worried.
Excuse me? Are you in the habit of inviting friends and family whose butts you *wouldn't* want on your toilet seat to your house? Really? Is that an OCD germaphobe thing or something? But then it struck me. That's not the reason. She just wants to be able to leave the sex toys drying on the sink and not worry about putting them away before Aunt Ruthie stops by.
Can't fool me.
xoxo
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