1.) I have another pharmacy/doctor's office annoyance story, but frankly? You're as tired of reading them as I am living them. So let's look at the upside! One gets to bond with one's fellow sufferers as you all sit in the plastic CVS chairs, comparing the incompetence and sloth of every medical and pharmacy person you've had to deal with for the past day or two or five. Building bridges through disgruntlement, woo hoo!
2.) Sarah Palin has cute hair and glasses. She looked sassy in the clip I just saw of her on TV. Not that that would induce me to vote for her, but we have to give props to the sassy middle aged wimmins when we sees 'em, misguided views on abortion rights or not. It's how we here at the Adventures roll.
3.) I had the nicest male nurse practitioner at my doctor's office today. His bedside [exam table side?] manner was leaps and bounds ahead of the female nurse practitioner I had the last time. It really flummoxes me why some people care so much about the gender of their doctor or nurse (or massage therapist!) Good is good, and trust me, your medical professional isn't interested in whatever bits of you they see uncovered. They're in the zone, trying to figure out what's wrong with you and what to do about it.
4.) Do you know what a soffit is? I swear to god, I hadn't ever seen or heard the word till like 3 days ago. And I even have one!
xoxo
Friday, August 29, 2008
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
stream of consciousness
1.) I cut my grass this morning wearing leopard print velour Old Navy pj pants, a terra cotta and white abstract print hoodie, sunglasses, ponytail, and flipflops. If more of my neighbors were actually home during the day, I'd probably get voted off the island. Also? Every time I mow the lawn in flipflops, I seriously cannot get my feet clean afterwards. And yet I repeat the behavior. One would think I am unconcerned with foot hygiene or something.
2.) Through the miracle of online tracking (okay, alright, it's not a miracle, it's just a marvel of modern technology), I know that my new piece of furniture from overstock is on the FedEx truck *right now*. Isn't that exciting? It is so. Shut up.
3.) I think The Internet is about to get me in trouble with home improvement projects again. Venetian Plaster by Behr. Look it up. Also? Articles about how easy it is to rip up your old wall-to-wall carpeting? Probably not the best thing for me to read.
4.) I bought some "Roman shades" at the Tarzhay yesterday but I haven't tried putting them up yet. I had very little awareness that these things even existed, but if you look online (or in person) at all the places that sell shades and blinds like Home Depot, Lowes and Target, really your only choices these days are wooden blinds, faux wooden blinds, or Roman shades in various materials. Apparently the window treatment world has changed since the last time I paid attention to it.
5.) Not that I ever paid much attention to it. My ex-sister-in-law used to rip on me when we were young because none of the apartments her brother and I lived in ever had drapes. What can I say? I hated drapes. I also had one of those kitty cat kitchen clocks with the tail that wags and the eyes that go back and forth. I took a lot of crap about that too. My decorating sense has always been misunderstood. ::sniff::
6.) I don't care. I still like Bill Clinton. And I'm chortling right now about what he's probably going to say tonight. What can I say about that, either? Men who are charming troublemakers are my weakness.
7.) Were you expecting me to say anything intelligent or serious about politics? hahahahahaha
8.) Ha.
9.) As an aside to #6, I was thinking the other day (triggered by a particularly charming patient of mine) that six year old boys are the most funny and charming creatures on earth, which I'm sure is nature's way of preventing you from killing them, and that almost everything I love about adult men is directly related to their inner six year old boys. I said "almost." Shut up.
10.) I came back downstairs last night and it was the 8th inning, the Yankees had two guys on with no outs, and Oki was pitching. And then nothing bad happened!
11.) I just finished watching the last season of The Wire that M2 loaned me. A little disappointed. But Marlo and Prop Joe's last scene together (I won't spoil it if you haven't watched it but plan to)? OMFG. The acting, man, the acting. It's really hard to come to any conclusion but that the only reason this show never won craploads of Emmys is the predominantly black cast. It's great though to see the actors that played Stringer Bell and Omar, to name two, getting movie work at least, because they are fucking unbelievably talented. (Has Bodie been in anything? He was great, too. I may have mentioned, but I cried my eyes out when he got killed in season 4.)
12.) My blogaversary is coming up!
13.) Semi-serious political talk: my dad actually said the other day, in relation to Hillary, that he found it astounding that America has never elected a woman president or even vice president when countries like, say, Pakistan have, and what the hell is wrong with this country? This is an 82 year old, blue collar, Catholic, high school educated, nonliberal but pretty much Democratic guy, who is frankly pretty fucking sexist. And yet he sees it. So what the hell is wrong with this country?
14.) All this typing, and yet the FedEx truck isn't here yet. Goddamn it.
Addendum:
15.) Yes, it has been. And my back is complaining after Mr D and I dragged the 75 lb Bombay chest up a flight of stairs. I have to attach the feet and I also have to vacuum up a cubic shitload of little styrofoam pieces off my hall carpet, but I'm resting. Also, I knew you all were breathlessly awaiting an update.
16.) Did you know that spellcheck doesn't recognize terra cotta or hoodie? (Is hoodie in the dictionary yet? It should be.)
xoxo
2.) Through the miracle of online tracking (okay, alright, it's not a miracle, it's just a marvel of modern technology), I know that my new piece of furniture from overstock is on the FedEx truck *right now*. Isn't that exciting? It is so. Shut up.
3.) I think The Internet is about to get me in trouble with home improvement projects again. Venetian Plaster by Behr. Look it up. Also? Articles about how easy it is to rip up your old wall-to-wall carpeting? Probably not the best thing for me to read.
4.) I bought some "Roman shades" at the Tarzhay yesterday but I haven't tried putting them up yet. I had very little awareness that these things even existed, but if you look online (or in person) at all the places that sell shades and blinds like Home Depot, Lowes and Target, really your only choices these days are wooden blinds, faux wooden blinds, or Roman shades in various materials. Apparently the window treatment world has changed since the last time I paid attention to it.
5.) Not that I ever paid much attention to it. My ex-sister-in-law used to rip on me when we were young because none of the apartments her brother and I lived in ever had drapes. What can I say? I hated drapes. I also had one of those kitty cat kitchen clocks with the tail that wags and the eyes that go back and forth. I took a lot of crap about that too. My decorating sense has always been misunderstood. ::sniff::
6.) I don't care. I still like Bill Clinton. And I'm chortling right now about what he's probably going to say tonight. What can I say about that, either? Men who are charming troublemakers are my weakness.
7.) Were you expecting me to say anything intelligent or serious about politics? hahahahahaha
8.) Ha.
9.) As an aside to #6, I was thinking the other day (triggered by a particularly charming patient of mine) that six year old boys are the most funny and charming creatures on earth, which I'm sure is nature's way of preventing you from killing them, and that almost everything I love about adult men is directly related to their inner six year old boys. I said "almost." Shut up.
10.) I came back downstairs last night and it was the 8th inning, the Yankees had two guys on with no outs, and Oki was pitching. And then nothing bad happened!
11.) I just finished watching the last season of The Wire that M2 loaned me. A little disappointed. But Marlo and Prop Joe's last scene together (I won't spoil it if you haven't watched it but plan to)? OMFG. The acting, man, the acting. It's really hard to come to any conclusion but that the only reason this show never won craploads of Emmys is the predominantly black cast. It's great though to see the actors that played Stringer Bell and Omar, to name two, getting movie work at least, because they are fucking unbelievably talented. (Has Bodie been in anything? He was great, too. I may have mentioned, but I cried my eyes out when he got killed in season 4.)
12.) My blogaversary is coming up!
13.) Semi-serious political talk: my dad actually said the other day, in relation to Hillary, that he found it astounding that America has never elected a woman president or even vice president when countries like, say, Pakistan have, and what the hell is wrong with this country? This is an 82 year old, blue collar, Catholic, high school educated, nonliberal but pretty much Democratic guy, who is frankly pretty fucking sexist. And yet he sees it. So what the hell is wrong with this country?
14.) All this typing, and yet the FedEx truck isn't here yet. Goddamn it.
Addendum:
15.) Yes, it has been. And my back is complaining after Mr D and I dragged the 75 lb Bombay chest up a flight of stairs. I have to attach the feet and I also have to vacuum up a cubic shitload of little styrofoam pieces off my hall carpet, but I'm resting. Also, I knew you all were breathlessly awaiting an update.
16.) Did you know that spellcheck doesn't recognize terra cotta or hoodie? (Is hoodie in the dictionary yet? It should be.)
xoxo
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
the human body is a puzzlement
M1 just told me something really interesting. Earlier this summer, she had her cholesterol levels tested. Now hers are usually borderline, or a little high, and her triglycerides are chronically above where they should be, but never anything to get in a panic about. Until this recent test.
Her total cholesterol was above 500. Her triglycerides were like 1500. She immediately thought she was going to die. Her MD put her on Zocor and she put herself on an incredibly spartan diet devoid of all fat. (She was, for example, using that spray-on margarine on her veggies and that fake-ass no fat cream in her coffee, which I told her is just sad.) She also stopped taking her latest supplement, which was CoQ10, because some googling led her to find that it follows the same pathway as cholesterol.
She just had everything retested after a month or six weeks on the Zocor and the I'd-rather-die-than-eat-that diet, and her total cholesterol is now [wait for it]...154! She and I refuse to believe that the Zocor works that great and are attributing the incredible drop to the lack of the CoQ10. She didn't mention anything to her MD about that, because he already thinks she's a, y'know, nutcase with her supplements and all. But, you know, it kind of makes sense. I know that one of the side effects that they worry about with statin drugs (which lower your cholesterol) is that they can affect your muscle enzymes. CoQ10 is good for your muscle enzymes. But apparently bad for your cholesterol. The same pathway must be being affected.
This is why, despite the billions of dollars of research, 90% of the medications you take have side affects, from minor to that's-gonna-kill-ya. We just don't know enough about how to tweak one thing without also tweaking something else that was better off left alone. Fascinating.
xoxo
Her total cholesterol was above 500. Her triglycerides were like 1500. She immediately thought she was going to die. Her MD put her on Zocor and she put herself on an incredibly spartan diet devoid of all fat. (She was, for example, using that spray-on margarine on her veggies and that fake-ass no fat cream in her coffee, which I told her is just sad.) She also stopped taking her latest supplement, which was CoQ10, because some googling led her to find that it follows the same pathway as cholesterol.
She just had everything retested after a month or six weeks on the Zocor and the I'd-rather-die-than-eat-that diet, and her total cholesterol is now [wait for it]...154! She and I refuse to believe that the Zocor works that great and are attributing the incredible drop to the lack of the CoQ10. She didn't mention anything to her MD about that, because he already thinks she's a, y'know, nutcase with her supplements and all. But, you know, it kind of makes sense. I know that one of the side effects that they worry about with statin drugs (which lower your cholesterol) is that they can affect your muscle enzymes. CoQ10 is good for your muscle enzymes. But apparently bad for your cholesterol. The same pathway must be being affected.
This is why, despite the billions of dollars of research, 90% of the medications you take have side affects, from minor to that's-gonna-kill-ya. We just don't know enough about how to tweak one thing without also tweaking something else that was better off left alone. Fascinating.
xoxo
Sunday, August 24, 2008
i *said* there were pics
The famous ugly lamp.
The "office" corner of boho paradise, rearranged a bit and (I think) finished. Can you tell that's my half-nekkid lady being molested by angel print over the desk? It arrived Friday and I have it in a black frame with black and gold mat. Looks awesome. The floor lamp used to be elsewhere--originally in another room, then in another corner of the bedroom--but I like it there.
Here's more of a close-up.
These two mirrors used to be in my sitting/massage/exercise room. I got them at Pier1 probably ten years ago and, after I decided they'd look fabulous in boho paradise, despite much looking I wasn't able to find the same or similar ones anywhere now. So I moved these. Only, however, after I bought some iron crosses at Pier 1 today to go on the massage room wall in place of them. I've decided one of my next projects is to de-junk that room and make it solely into massage space. (You know, one where I could massage other people who want to pay me, not just my close personal friends who kindly overlook the recumbent bike in the corner and the stacks of random magazines.) Anyway, it's got a lot of "ancient artifact-y" stuff in it that the crosses blend with.
In other decorating news, the more I look at Rate My Space, the more I become concerned that boho paradise is in fact "Tuscan inspired." They be calling any room with dark walls, lots of gold/bronze and rich colors, and antiqued/distressed finishes "Tuscan." I'm still not sure the people of Tuscany would be in favor of that. So I'm sticking with Boho.
xoxo
what were we talking about?
I've got more stuff to talk about and pics to upload, but before I get to that, there's this. I was just looking at the sale papers in my Sunday Globe. There was one for Cardi's Furniture. Now, I don't plan on going to, like, New Bedford for any reason, the least of which would be to buy tacky furniture, but I flipped through it anyway.
Whereupon I found the "plasma TV stand with fireplace" (just ten cents an hour to operate!). So, you know, just in case you don't have an actual fireplace to despoil and you want to be sure to place that ridiculously expensive piece of electronics over a heat source, they've got you covered.
You can't, as they say, make this shit up.
xoxo
(If any of you all own one of these? Please do not write in to defend yourself and/or attack my parentage, looks, or intelligence. Just depart quietly and never read my blog again. K thx bye.)
Whereupon I found the "plasma TV stand with fireplace" (just ten cents an hour to operate!). So, you know, just in case you don't have an actual fireplace to despoil and you want to be sure to place that ridiculously expensive piece of electronics over a heat source, they've got you covered.
You can't, as they say, make this shit up.
xoxo
(If any of you all own one of these? Please do not write in to defend yourself and/or attack my parentage, looks, or intelligence. Just depart quietly and never read my blog again. K thx bye.)
Friday, August 22, 2008
i feel remiss
I promised we'd go back to bitching and ranting, and yet, yesterday, I had nuthin'.
So today I thought I'd just take a wee moment to complain about how here it is the end of August and there's a bunch of things I haven't done this summer. I think I'll even put it in a list form, because I haven't done nearly enough of that either. Without further ado.
So today I thought I'd just take a wee moment to complain about how here it is the end of August and there's a bunch of things I haven't done this summer. I think I'll even put it in a list form, because I haven't done nearly enough of that either. Without further ado.
- Had any gazpacho at all, whether homemade or restaurant-purchased.
- Gone walking down the beach after dinner nearly enough.
- Eaten at a sidewalk table more than a couple times.
- Worn my white jeans, my platform sandals, or my sexah fuchsia dress enough.
- Worn my vintage at all. But now it fits.
- Gone to either Six Flags or Water Country. Very very sad.
- Taken any time off from work at all, other than the Saturday after 4th of July and the days I went to MFR.
The good thing is that, freed from the tyranny of back-to-school, I'm totally aware that we've got a good six or eight more weeks of warm to warmish weather in which to do many of these things, so no worries.
Oh, but while I am here, let me just get one more complaint in. With the beginning of August comes the water bill and the property taxes due. That gets paid and there's a sigh of relief and I (foolishly) think, okay, no big bills next month. Except, yeah, both my life insurance premium and my AMTA membership comes due in September. Goddamn it.
xoxo
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
nice day
I had one. Um, today, that is. Two of my favorite people separately freed up chunks of their Wednesdays to spend time with me on my day off and I got to do a couple of my favorite things. Plus, the weather was absolutely spectacular.
I hope your day was similarly pleasant and your weather (if you don't live in Eastern Massachusetts) similarly stellar.
In any case, do not worry! Tomorrow we will resume our regular blog diet of grousing and sniping.
xoxo
I hope your day was similarly pleasant and your weather (if you don't live in Eastern Massachusetts) similarly stellar.
In any case, do not worry! Tomorrow we will resume our regular blog diet of grousing and sniping.
xoxo
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
rating spaces
Here's a bunch of random commentary on other people's decorating, as well as on advice from the "experts."
1.) Hands down the stoopidest new trend I have seen--and apparently people are doing it a lot--is to mount your flat screen TV above your fireplace. First of all, there are all kinds of fireplaces, modern, traditional, rustic, funky, but in general? There are very few really ugly fireplaces. So if you're lucky enough to have one in your living room, it should be a focal point. Focal points are not enhanced by hanging an ugly piece of electronics over them. Secondly, mostly it appears to me that this puts the TV up higher than it should be for comfortable viewing. Now, as a bodyworker, I suppose I should be rooting for people to torque their necks and thus need them to be massaged, but eh. I'm still not down with it.
2.) Speaking of how high to place things, apparently, according to the design professionals, when you hang a picture behind a sofa, the bottom of the picture should be six inches above the back of the sofa. Who knew? Go measure yours if you have one. I bet it's way higher than that.
3.) There is (as far as I know!) no such thing as "rod iron." However, many many many people who have never seen the word wrought in print, think there is. It makes me smile every time I see it. If you didn't know the word wrought, rod makes perfect sense in that context. In fact, I may just start calling it rod iron myself.
4.) Oh, and speaking of hanging pictures? I can't think of anything as horrifying as people who buy "art" because the colors match their sofa or duvet or whatever. If you're going to put a picture on a wall in your home, it ought to be a picture you love in and of itself, right? If you're decorating the lobby of an office building, okay, you get a pass. But your home in which you live is not the lobby of an office building. Jesus Christ, people.
5.) Did you know that there is such a thing as "subway tile" that people put in their kitchens and bathrooms and it looks much like the name might suggest and yet it is inexplicably trendy and popular?
6.) Also, people like to say their bathrooms are Tuscan-inspired. I'm not sure if the people of Tuscany would be in favor of that.
I'm sure there's more, but that'll do for now. And if I just inadvertently insulted your taste or your home? Just remember, I'm the woman who spent three days gluing the equivalent of brown grocery bags to her bedroom walls and take it with the proverbial grain of salt, huh?
xoxo
1.) Hands down the stoopidest new trend I have seen--and apparently people are doing it a lot--is to mount your flat screen TV above your fireplace. First of all, there are all kinds of fireplaces, modern, traditional, rustic, funky, but in general? There are very few really ugly fireplaces. So if you're lucky enough to have one in your living room, it should be a focal point. Focal points are not enhanced by hanging an ugly piece of electronics over them. Secondly, mostly it appears to me that this puts the TV up higher than it should be for comfortable viewing. Now, as a bodyworker, I suppose I should be rooting for people to torque their necks and thus need them to be massaged, but eh. I'm still not down with it.
2.) Speaking of how high to place things, apparently, according to the design professionals, when you hang a picture behind a sofa, the bottom of the picture should be six inches above the back of the sofa. Who knew? Go measure yours if you have one. I bet it's way higher than that.
3.) There is (as far as I know!) no such thing as "rod iron." However, many many many people who have never seen the word wrought in print, think there is. It makes me smile every time I see it. If you didn't know the word wrought, rod makes perfect sense in that context. In fact, I may just start calling it rod iron myself.
4.) Oh, and speaking of hanging pictures? I can't think of anything as horrifying as people who buy "art" because the colors match their sofa or duvet or whatever. If you're going to put a picture on a wall in your home, it ought to be a picture you love in and of itself, right? If you're decorating the lobby of an office building, okay, you get a pass. But your home in which you live is not the lobby of an office building. Jesus Christ, people.
5.) Did you know that there is such a thing as "subway tile" that people put in their kitchens and bathrooms and it looks much like the name might suggest and yet it is inexplicably trendy and popular?
6.) Also, people like to say their bathrooms are Tuscan-inspired. I'm not sure if the people of Tuscany would be in favor of that.
I'm sure there's more, but that'll do for now. And if I just inadvertently insulted your taste or your home? Just remember, I'm the woman who spent three days gluing the equivalent of brown grocery bags to her bedroom walls and take it with the proverbial grain of salt, huh?
xoxo
Monday, August 18, 2008
conversational tidbits
A friend was telling me yesterday about his girlfriend's friends' rules about dating. One of them apparently will not accept a date for a weekend if asked after Tuesday. "How's that working out for her?" "Eh. Apparently she stays home a lot."
I thought it sounded like something from the stoopid "Rules" book, and we both thought it sounded pretty damn manipulative. And it makes me wonder: why? Why, as soon as sex or the possibility of sex enters in, does the manipulation and the game-playing also enter in? If a totally platonic friend asks you on Thursday if you'd be interested in doing x or going to y on Saturday, does not your response hinge solely on whether you're interested in x or y and whether you have any other plans or obligations? But as soon as sex enters in, you're locked in some kind of stealth psychological battle? Why is it impossible for people you date and possibly fuck to be your friends, just like all your other friends? The whole thing makes me sad, and tired. Which is why the chances that I will ultimately die alone and be eaten by my 47 cats is looking more and more likely, yo.
So, then, coincidentally, my friend and I ended up in Barnes and Noble and I see Why Men Marry Bitches. Well, I thought I already covered that in here: you're all a bunch of emotional masochists. But, anyway, no, I guess the author is full of advice on ways to manipulate someone into marrying you. Which, I *suppose* would be all well and good for someone like me, who only wants to marry for the step-grandchildren and (ideally) the ability to do carpentry and/or electrical work. But for the average person who wants to marry so they can live happily ever after, is tricking someone into it with your psychological games really the way to go? I dunno. Again, the whole thing makes me sad, and tired. Maybe I should have bought the book.
On the other hand, another friend-of-friend that came up in conversation is a woman who is apparently dating someone that never will give her a compliment. I think we also covered that in here, obliquely. Let me spell it out. Not only should you kick to the curb anyone who criticizes what you look like nekkid, you should also kick to the curb anyone who fails to tell you how awesome you are. If someone, lover or platonic friend, doesn't appreciate your contributions to the universe and *at least occasionally* tell you so, what the hell are you doing hanging around them? To steal a title, this much I know is true. (Do you think *I* could get an advice book outta that? I'm telling you, I'm totally not opposed to hiring a devoted ringer husband to take on the book tour if necessary.)
xoxo
I thought it sounded like something from the stoopid "Rules" book, and we both thought it sounded pretty damn manipulative. And it makes me wonder: why? Why, as soon as sex or the possibility of sex enters in, does the manipulation and the game-playing also enter in? If a totally platonic friend asks you on Thursday if you'd be interested in doing x or going to y on Saturday, does not your response hinge solely on whether you're interested in x or y and whether you have any other plans or obligations? But as soon as sex enters in, you're locked in some kind of stealth psychological battle? Why is it impossible for people you date and possibly fuck to be your friends, just like all your other friends? The whole thing makes me sad, and tired. Which is why the chances that I will ultimately die alone and be eaten by my 47 cats is looking more and more likely, yo.
So, then, coincidentally, my friend and I ended up in Barnes and Noble and I see Why Men Marry Bitches. Well, I thought I already covered that in here: you're all a bunch of emotional masochists. But, anyway, no, I guess the author is full of advice on ways to manipulate someone into marrying you. Which, I *suppose* would be all well and good for someone like me, who only wants to marry for the step-grandchildren and (ideally) the ability to do carpentry and/or electrical work. But for the average person who wants to marry so they can live happily ever after, is tricking someone into it with your psychological games really the way to go? I dunno. Again, the whole thing makes me sad, and tired. Maybe I should have bought the book.
On the other hand, another friend-of-friend that came up in conversation is a woman who is apparently dating someone that never will give her a compliment. I think we also covered that in here, obliquely. Let me spell it out. Not only should you kick to the curb anyone who criticizes what you look like nekkid, you should also kick to the curb anyone who fails to tell you how awesome you are. If someone, lover or platonic friend, doesn't appreciate your contributions to the universe and *at least occasionally* tell you so, what the hell are you doing hanging around them? To steal a title, this much I know is true. (Do you think *I* could get an advice book outta that? I'm telling you, I'm totally not opposed to hiring a devoted ringer husband to take on the book tour if necessary.)
xoxo
Saturday, August 16, 2008
more art n' possibly crafts
I bought this print today:
http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=14321316&ref=vt_other_2
Do you like it?
I am also quite close to buying this Ikea bookcase:
http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/products/90111027
because, though it seems like kind of a lot of money for a piece of Ikea crap, it is actually real wood, and it's the exact right dimensions for that space in my bedroom that's empty, as well as being a color that would work. The fact that the Ikea website has a little icon for "assembly help" however, is making me a little leery of how easy their stuff is to put together. Reassurance and/or warnings, anyone?
xoxo
http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=14321316&ref=vt_other_2
Do you like it?
I am also quite close to buying this Ikea bookcase:
http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/products/90111027
because, though it seems like kind of a lot of money for a piece of Ikea crap, it is actually real wood, and it's the exact right dimensions for that space in my bedroom that's empty, as well as being a color that would work. The fact that the Ikea website has a little icon for "assembly help" however, is making me a little leery of how easy their stuff is to put together. Reassurance and/or warnings, anyone?
xoxo
Friday, August 15, 2008
who says free enterprise is dead?
I direct your attention to one Mr Edgar Ananias Gomez, age 26, of Lynn, who was arrested Wednesday for larceny. Mr Gomez (allegedly) stole at least 50 shopping carts from the Stop & Shop on Washington Street over the past month and sold them for scrap metal in Chelsea for 5 cents a pound.
How much does a shopping cart weigh, anyway? It seems like an awful lot of work and effort, not to mention the gas money to Chelsea, for a minimal return, but you know me. I'm lazy.
xoxo
How much does a shopping cart weigh, anyway? It seems like an awful lot of work and effort, not to mention the gas money to Chelsea, for a minimal return, but you know me. I'm lazy.
xoxo
friday morning update
1.) I can't help it. I feel kind of bad for the Texas Rangers. I would, however, like to invite them to stay at Fenway for another couple games or so.
2.) My ugly lamp finally came and I am disappointed. Though the item description--and by that I mean the actual "name" of the item, not just the blurb--specifies that it is red, it is in fact more orange. Coral. Terra cotta. Something of that nature. But definitely not red. I'm not torqued about this enough to actually send it back. It's got light bulbs in it and is on my nightstand as we speak, and I can now read in bed again, and I'm sure it will probably grow on me. But I paid full price for it and when I pay full price, I would like the item that the UPS driver drops at my door to be the exact item that was pictured and described on the website. Target.com, I'm looking at you.
xoxo
2.) My ugly lamp finally came and I am disappointed. Though the item description--and by that I mean the actual "name" of the item, not just the blurb--specifies that it is red, it is in fact more orange. Coral. Terra cotta. Something of that nature. But definitely not red. I'm not torqued about this enough to actually send it back. It's got light bulbs in it and is on my nightstand as we speak, and I can now read in bed again, and I'm sure it will probably grow on me. But I paid full price for it and when I pay full price, I would like the item that the UPS driver drops at my door to be the exact item that was pictured and described on the website. Target.com, I'm looking at you.
xoxo
Thursday, August 14, 2008
reviews of various things
1.) New Altoid flavors. When I was at MFR last month, my friend W had *licorice* Altoids. (As a sidebar, we massage therapists are obsessed with breath mints, maybe even more than, say, fascia or topical anti-inflammatories. We're completely paranoid about possibly breathing our onion-y lunch or our postnasal drip yuck breath on our clients unawares.) Anyway, W said she got them at Trader Joe's and, since I haven't seen them elsewhere, they may just be a special item for them. I dunno. I will say--and I am not a huge licorice fan--that they are fabulous. You pop one and at first think, "Ah. Not so strong." And then 20 seconds later? "Whoa. There go my sinuses opening up!" Two thumbs up. The second new Altoid flavor I've seen is Creme de Menthe, and since I've seen those at both CVS and 7-11, I think you can get those everywhere. They are...okay. They really do taste creme de menthe-y, which is to say, not so strong in the mint department. So if you usually find Altoids a little strong for your taste, these may be the mint for you. I give them one thumb up.
2.) Californication, the TV series, first season. I rented this from Netflix, mostly because you *know* I heart David Duchovney. If Anthony Kiedis ever becomes unable to fulfill his duties as my fantasy boyfriend, Mr Duchovney could slide right in there as a substitute. Anyway, it was a two disk series, and after watching the first dvd, I almost sent the second one back unwatched. But I didn't, and I'm glad I didn't, because it started to grow on me, and by the last episode I really was invested in the characters. But I will say this. David Duchovney looks like hell. Where's my Fox Muldar and what the hell did you do to his face?!??! Now, Mr Duchovney's character is supposed to be a 40-something midlife-crisis semi-washed-up writer who's half in love with the ex who won't take him back, and who smokes too much, drinks too much, drugs too much, and has far too much random sex with inappropriate partners, so it's possible that it's totally a conscious decision for him to look like hell in the series. After all, that kind of lifestyle is harder on the face when you're in your forties than it was when you were a junior in college. I don't care. More makeup, people. Vaseline over the lens. Something!
3.) Mad Men, season one. I bought the dvds, since the wait for them on Netflix was ridiculous, and I knew I'd watch them and all the commentaries more than once. All I can say is, yes, this show deserves all the awards and critical praise it garnered. And the clothes are awesome! You should watch it, if you haven't.
xoxo
2.) Californication, the TV series, first season. I rented this from Netflix, mostly because you *know* I heart David Duchovney. If Anthony Kiedis ever becomes unable to fulfill his duties as my fantasy boyfriend, Mr Duchovney could slide right in there as a substitute. Anyway, it was a two disk series, and after watching the first dvd, I almost sent the second one back unwatched. But I didn't, and I'm glad I didn't, because it started to grow on me, and by the last episode I really was invested in the characters. But I will say this. David Duchovney looks like hell. Where's my Fox Muldar and what the hell did you do to his face?!??! Now, Mr Duchovney's character is supposed to be a 40-something midlife-crisis semi-washed-up writer who's half in love with the ex who won't take him back, and who smokes too much, drinks too much, drugs too much, and has far too much random sex with inappropriate partners, so it's possible that it's totally a conscious decision for him to look like hell in the series. After all, that kind of lifestyle is harder on the face when you're in your forties than it was when you were a junior in college. I don't care. More makeup, people. Vaseline over the lens. Something!
3.) Mad Men, season one. I bought the dvds, since the wait for them on Netflix was ridiculous, and I knew I'd watch them and all the commentaries more than once. All I can say is, yes, this show deserves all the awards and critical praise it garnered. And the clothes are awesome! You should watch it, if you haven't.
xoxo
time travel
Can we stand another body image post? I check over at the Body Image Project every now and again because it's always illuminating, or possibly comforting, to read evidence about how fucked up other women are about their bodies. And I came across this: http://thebodyimageproject.blogspot.com/2008/08/age-22.html
And I felt so sad for her. When I was 22, I was an inch shorter and a few pounds lighter than that but I'm guessing more or less the same size, and I felt much the same way. Oh, I didn't have a skinnier sister to compare myself to, but I'd been on the receiving end of that kind of comment. (Junior year of high school in the bathroom off the cafeteria at lunch time, senior girl I didn't know: "Do you have a sister? No? OMG, you look just like So-n-So's girlfriend. Except she's taller and thinner." Even at age 16, I was not so full of self-loathing that I didn't burst out laughing at that and say, "Um, gee...thanks?")
Anyway, I had all those same issues. Hated my big "disgusting" thighs, dissatisfied my boobs couldn't pass the pencil test, thought I looked okay in just the right clothing, but naked meant showing those parts I hated. I would love to tell that 22 y.o. woman what I would tell my own 20 year old self if I could go back in time: You're beautiful. You don't need to be taller or thinner. 5'3 and 125 is perfectly proportionate. Your thighs looks exactly the way they're meant to look for someone with your genetics. No one passes the pencil test unless they're smaller than a small B-cup, and there's nothing wrong with being bigger than a small B-cup. You can spend the next 25 years worrying about this and having fits of body loathing, but when you look back, you're gonna realize you were lovely, so appreciate what you have now. And if any man (or woman or goat, whatever you're into) criticizes what you look like naked, kick them to the fucking curb, because they don't deserve to see you naked, yo.
That's the thing with perspective. It's impossible to get it until it's too late.
xoxo
And I felt so sad for her. When I was 22, I was an inch shorter and a few pounds lighter than that but I'm guessing more or less the same size, and I felt much the same way. Oh, I didn't have a skinnier sister to compare myself to, but I'd been on the receiving end of that kind of comment. (Junior year of high school in the bathroom off the cafeteria at lunch time, senior girl I didn't know: "Do you have a sister? No? OMG, you look just like So-n-So's girlfriend. Except she's taller and thinner." Even at age 16, I was not so full of self-loathing that I didn't burst out laughing at that and say, "Um, gee...thanks?")
Anyway, I had all those same issues. Hated my big "disgusting" thighs, dissatisfied my boobs couldn't pass the pencil test, thought I looked okay in just the right clothing, but naked meant showing those parts I hated. I would love to tell that 22 y.o. woman what I would tell my own 20 year old self if I could go back in time: You're beautiful. You don't need to be taller or thinner. 5'3 and 125 is perfectly proportionate. Your thighs looks exactly the way they're meant to look for someone with your genetics. No one passes the pencil test unless they're smaller than a small B-cup, and there's nothing wrong with being bigger than a small B-cup. You can spend the next 25 years worrying about this and having fits of body loathing, but when you look back, you're gonna realize you were lovely, so appreciate what you have now. And if any man (or woman or goat, whatever you're into) criticizes what you look like naked, kick them to the fucking curb, because they don't deserve to see you naked, yo.
That's the thing with perspective. It's impossible to get it until it's too late.
xoxo
Sunday, August 10, 2008
on the other hand
...what we do know.
If you go out in a white cotton dress, you should always have a.) underwear or b.) an umbrella. Because, no matter how not-shy you are, you probably really aren't down with an entire trainful of Green Line riders knowing the exact size and color of your areolas when you get caught in a thunderstorm with neither.
That's my helpful hint for today. You're welcome!
xoxo
If you go out in a white cotton dress, you should always have a.) underwear or b.) an umbrella. Because, no matter how not-shy you are, you probably really aren't down with an entire trainful of Green Line riders knowing the exact size and color of your areolas when you get caught in a thunderstorm with neither.
That's my helpful hint for today. You're welcome!
xoxo
how do we know?
I was all set to make fun of the Sunday Globe article about how supposedly one of McCain's web ads suggests Obama is the Antichrist, and how certain people are taking that idea seriously. And selling t-shirts.
But then I thought, well, yeah, but how do we know? He could be. I mean, other than that his name's not Damian. Think about it.
xoxo
But then I thought, well, yeah, but how do we know? He could be. I mean, other than that his name's not Damian. Think about it.
xoxo
Saturday, August 9, 2008
seriously, a new low
http://www.thedailyitemoflynn.com/articles/2008/08/09/news/news01.txt
Um, yeah. This is what journalism has come to. It is now apparently peachy keen to put a photo of a nine year old little boy in tears as he gazes upon his dead mother's body in her coffin at her wake on the front page of the newspaper.
Words fail me.
No, seriously, words fail me. That anyone anywhere could possibly consider that appropriate is just...stunning.
xoxo
Um, yeah. This is what journalism has come to. It is now apparently peachy keen to put a photo of a nine year old little boy in tears as he gazes upon his dead mother's body in her coffin at her wake on the front page of the newspaper.
Words fail me.
No, seriously, words fail me. That anyone anywhere could possibly consider that appropriate is just...stunning.
xoxo
Friday, August 8, 2008
"speak the Latin, speak the Latin!"
So, when I've been looking at furniture online, I've come across the descriptor "parawood" and, using my ::ahem:: fancy Catholic school education, assumed this was some newfangled term for particleboard or similar and mentally crossed the item off the list of possibilities. You know...paraprofessional, paralegal, parawood. Almost but not quite the real thing. Wood's lil helper.
However, thanks to the fine folks at American Unfinished Furniture, as of tonight I now know that parawood is actually a type of real wood, hard wood, from Malaysian rubber trees that no longer produce latex. (And thus environmentally correct, even.) Swear to god!
I'm thinking maybe they should really give it another name. Or are we just assuming the average furniture buyer today forgot all their Latin roots the day after they took their SATs?
xoxo
However, thanks to the fine folks at American Unfinished Furniture, as of tonight I now know that parawood is actually a type of real wood, hard wood, from Malaysian rubber trees that no longer produce latex. (And thus environmentally correct, even.) Swear to god!
I'm thinking maybe they should really give it another name. Or are we just assuming the average furniture buyer today forgot all their Latin roots the day after they took their SATs?
xoxo
Thursday, August 7, 2008
more about the crazy
Because you can never get enough, right? Two more tangential points that I wanted to address:
One of my friends has quite severe OCD. I don't mean colloquial "I like things just so" OCD, I mean real-brain-disorder, has needed years of medication and behavioral therapy to be able to leave the house without "checking" for two hours OCD. She asked me recently whether my dad had a bit of the OCD, because he became quite anxious over her putting some stuff that she was taking home from my house into her backseat before we went to a restaurant, because what if someone broke into the car and stole it in the restaurant parking lot? and wouldn't be better to leave it at my house and come back for it?
I said that, while it has something of an OCDish flavor to it, it's more of a straight anxiety disorder than, for example, what she has. And I told her about how I need to keep him from ramping up D's anxiety--for example, that day last month when D was going to the doctor's appointment alone, on being told this, my dad's first reaction was (out loud and in front of D) "OMG! Can he *do* that? Will he be okay?" I had to say, "Of course, he can do it, and please do not make him any more nervous about it than he already is, because he's going to be fine." And while I was about to throw up with anxiety about the whole situation, too, I had to hide it, handle it, and be the one who held it all together, because I'm the one of us who can do it and somebody's got to. My friend said, "Yeah, I know, but when *do* you get to fall apart?"
Ah, that's what blogging is for.
But that led us to a discussion of how people like her and me, who have the crazy and know it and have learned some strategies to cope with it, are actually so much less crazy than, oh, people like my dad or one of her sisters or probably 75% of the people we meet every day, who have no idea there's anything wrong with them and/or have no ability to observe and then modify their own behavior or emotions. That's what I personally think one of the goals for D is, and he's making some progress. (I mean, god, he's self-aware enough to know that going to that appointment by himself, no matter how anxiety-provoking, was superior to asking his grandfather to go with him [because, yeah, I had briefly floated that idea.])
The other point to this is that another friend of mine recently expressed some (very) mild reservations to me about possibly becoming romantically involved with someone who is (successfully) on medications for the crazy. I was kind of astounded. Well, first of all, I was astounded that this particular friend would express the reservation *to me* being as I'm the spokesmodel for Please Do Not Stigmatize or Discriminate Against People With Psychiatric Illness. I mean, I can't magically erase people's prejudices, but I'd think I'd be the last person anyone would confess that particular one to. And secondly? I was like, please. The number of neurotic, unstable, and basically nutz persons you've pursued, dated, and/or had sex with without any reservations, and now you're going to worry about the one who by all observable measures so far is stable and generally great just because they have a diagnosis and chose to share it with you? Huh?
How to tie this in with my original point in the other post? Okay. Not only do I think people who are on medications shouldn't be shamed or blamed or embarrassed about it, or made to feel they are weak or defective or using a crutch, I think *often* they are to be congratulated for it. Those of us with the crazy who try really hard to keep the crazy from adversely affecting us and the people around us rock. The end.
(Do I need to * anything in this post?)
xoxo
One of my friends has quite severe OCD. I don't mean colloquial "I like things just so" OCD, I mean real-brain-disorder, has needed years of medication and behavioral therapy to be able to leave the house without "checking" for two hours OCD. She asked me recently whether my dad had a bit of the OCD, because he became quite anxious over her putting some stuff that she was taking home from my house into her backseat before we went to a restaurant, because what if someone broke into the car and stole it in the restaurant parking lot? and wouldn't be better to leave it at my house and come back for it?
I said that, while it has something of an OCDish flavor to it, it's more of a straight anxiety disorder than, for example, what she has. And I told her about how I need to keep him from ramping up D's anxiety--for example, that day last month when D was going to the doctor's appointment alone, on being told this, my dad's first reaction was (out loud and in front of D) "OMG! Can he *do* that? Will he be okay?" I had to say, "Of course, he can do it, and please do not make him any more nervous about it than he already is, because he's going to be fine." And while I was about to throw up with anxiety about the whole situation, too, I had to hide it, handle it, and be the one who held it all together, because I'm the one of us who can do it and somebody's got to. My friend said, "Yeah, I know, but when *do* you get to fall apart?"
Ah, that's what blogging is for.
But that led us to a discussion of how people like her and me, who have the crazy and know it and have learned some strategies to cope with it, are actually so much less crazy than, oh, people like my dad or one of her sisters or probably 75% of the people we meet every day, who have no idea there's anything wrong with them and/or have no ability to observe and then modify their own behavior or emotions. That's what I personally think one of the goals for D is, and he's making some progress. (I mean, god, he's self-aware enough to know that going to that appointment by himself, no matter how anxiety-provoking, was superior to asking his grandfather to go with him [because, yeah, I had briefly floated that idea.])
The other point to this is that another friend of mine recently expressed some (very) mild reservations to me about possibly becoming romantically involved with someone who is (successfully) on medications for the crazy. I was kind of astounded. Well, first of all, I was astounded that this particular friend would express the reservation *to me* being as I'm the spokesmodel for Please Do Not Stigmatize or Discriminate Against People With Psychiatric Illness. I mean, I can't magically erase people's prejudices, but I'd think I'd be the last person anyone would confess that particular one to. And secondly? I was like, please. The number of neurotic, unstable, and basically nutz persons you've pursued, dated, and/or had sex with without any reservations, and now you're going to worry about the one who by all observable measures so far is stable and generally great just because they have a diagnosis and chose to share it with you? Huh?
How to tie this in with my original point in the other post? Okay. Not only do I think people who are on medications shouldn't be shamed or blamed or embarrassed about it, or made to feel they are weak or defective or using a crutch, I think *often* they are to be congratulated for it. Those of us with the crazy who try really hard to keep the crazy from adversely affecting us and the people around us rock. The end.
(Do I need to * anything in this post?)
xoxo
the crazy
I stumbled upon an interesting blog post and set of responses to it yesterday when clicking on links from links from links. The original writer's point was about people being made to feel guilty or ashamed for taking medication, whether pain meds, sleep aids, or antidepressants, and the puritanical "oh, it's just a crutch!" attitude. Yeah, well, no matter what you think of the pharmaceutical industry--and you all know I think it's a deeply problematic business, despite my sucking at the teat of free pens, sticky notes, and chicken kabob salads at work, or those business trips to the Caribbean I tagged along on with the ex who worked for a major drug company--the fact remains that if you break a leg, you need a crutch, and if you go a few weeks having three or four hours sleep a night and see what that fucking feels like, physically and emotionally, you'd be happy for a "crutch" for that too while you work on what the root cause might be.
But what I really want to talk about is the rabidly anti-antidepressant people who come out of the woodwork whenever discussions like this come up, mostly people who have tried them themselves, hated them, came off them, and now insist that they're bad bad bad and no one should take them. Which is so silly, really. To say that because something was worthless for you, it's worthless for everyone--especially in the face of people specifically telling you, no, Prozac saved my life--is, like, the height of arrogance and dismissiveness. And what I find fascinating is the people who say, antidepressants (or other psychiatric drugs) "changed their personalities." This was ably addressed in part by a bunch of other blog commenters who agreed, yeah! they changed my personality, too, and I'm glad, because before I was a miserable mood-swingy bitch or a crying-at-the-drop-of-a-hat basketcase (or whatever.)
Well, it's no secret that I've been on antidepressants and off antidepressants over the past twelve years. And while Unmedicated Depressed Andrea is a different person than Medicated Andrea, Medicated Andrea is *not* a different person than Unmedicated Non-Depressed Andrea. But I'll say this: Unmedicated maybe-a-little-depressed-and-anxious Andrea in 2008 *is* a totally different person than the Unmedicated Andrea of, say, 1990, simply because of the "crutch" effect. Having experienced what being not-crazy on drugs feels like has enabled me to deal better with the crazy, on or off drugs. It's like, when you're a little paranoid and over-sensitive and not-quite-rational, you don't realize it; once it's been taken away pharmaceutically, you can see that it wasn't quite rational, and in the future, you can (or, okay, *I* can) recognize that feeling again, and go, oh! yeah! not thinking right! emotions not quite in synch with reality!
I think that's kinda the idea of CBT, but never having had CBT, only having figured it out my own self, I couldn't tell you for sure. But having had that crutch drug when I needed it, has made me able to make changes with or without it.
I'll also say this, about D. I cannot tell whether it's the illness, having the illness properly medicated, or just the maturation process, but his personality has changed in some ways. He's always had a sort of underlying sweetness and sensitivity to his nature, but especially when he was a teenager, that was covered up with a layer of macho bullshit. Whether it was being really sick, or being really sick and getting better, or growing up, or maybe just being out of his peer group, but that's been stripped away. In a way, it's wonderful; I see his kindness and his consideration to other people and I'm proud of him, of his basic niceness. And in a way it's worrisome; I hope he is out there in the world again someday, but if he's going to be, he's going to have to relearn those walls.
Holy digression, Batman! You all will have to pretend I tied this one up into a cohesive thesis. Or, y'know, not.
xoxo
But what I really want to talk about is the rabidly anti-antidepressant people who come out of the woodwork whenever discussions like this come up, mostly people who have tried them themselves, hated them, came off them, and now insist that they're bad bad bad and no one should take them. Which is so silly, really. To say that because something was worthless for you, it's worthless for everyone--especially in the face of people specifically telling you, no, Prozac saved my life--is, like, the height of arrogance and dismissiveness. And what I find fascinating is the people who say, antidepressants (or other psychiatric drugs) "changed their personalities." This was ably addressed in part by a bunch of other blog commenters who agreed, yeah! they changed my personality, too, and I'm glad, because before I was a miserable mood-swingy bitch or a crying-at-the-drop-of-a-hat basketcase (or whatever.)
Well, it's no secret that I've been on antidepressants and off antidepressants over the past twelve years. And while Unmedicated Depressed Andrea is a different person than Medicated Andrea, Medicated Andrea is *not* a different person than Unmedicated Non-Depressed Andrea. But I'll say this: Unmedicated maybe-a-little-depressed-and-anxious Andrea in 2008 *is* a totally different person than the Unmedicated Andrea of, say, 1990, simply because of the "crutch" effect. Having experienced what being not-crazy on drugs feels like has enabled me to deal better with the crazy, on or off drugs. It's like, when you're a little paranoid and over-sensitive and not-quite-rational, you don't realize it; once it's been taken away pharmaceutically, you can see that it wasn't quite rational, and in the future, you can (or, okay, *I* can) recognize that feeling again, and go, oh! yeah! not thinking right! emotions not quite in synch with reality!
I think that's kinda the idea of CBT, but never having had CBT, only having figured it out my own self, I couldn't tell you for sure. But having had that crutch drug when I needed it, has made me able to make changes with or without it.
I'll also say this, about D. I cannot tell whether it's the illness, having the illness properly medicated, or just the maturation process, but his personality has changed in some ways. He's always had a sort of underlying sweetness and sensitivity to his nature, but especially when he was a teenager, that was covered up with a layer of macho bullshit. Whether it was being really sick, or being really sick and getting better, or growing up, or maybe just being out of his peer group, but that's been stripped away. In a way, it's wonderful; I see his kindness and his consideration to other people and I'm proud of him, of his basic niceness. And in a way it's worrisome; I hope he is out there in the world again someday, but if he's going to be, he's going to have to relearn those walls.
Holy digression, Batman! You all will have to pretend I tied this one up into a cohesive thesis. Or, y'know, not.
xoxo
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
your word choice,
she is not so good.
Saw a little news item on the TV today. Somewhere out west, a couple woke to find a mountain lion in their bedroom, which then dragged their dog out into the yard and ate it. Or something. Authorities tracked the cougar for a whole day before they captured and "euthanized" it.
Oh really? That's a hell of a *euphemism*, because I don't think any of us could pretend with a straight face that the killing was done for the mountain lion's own good. Excellent job, Cable News Writer Guy or Girl!
xoxo
Saw a little news item on the TV today. Somewhere out west, a couple woke to find a mountain lion in their bedroom, which then dragged their dog out into the yard and ate it. Or something. Authorities tracked the cougar for a whole day before they captured and "euthanized" it.
Oh really? That's a hell of a *euphemism*, because I don't think any of us could pretend with a straight face that the killing was done for the mountain lion's own good. Excellent job, Cable News Writer Guy or Girl!
xoxo
Sunday, August 3, 2008
picturerama, or boho paradise illustrated
Remodeling pictures, finally. Here's the view from the bottom of the bed. The curtains are much more plum than they appear (on my monitor, anyway) and those sheets are more gold than bronze. The picture on the left wall is the Morocco etsy print. The yellow picture on the right is a feng shui charm, which I guess I need, because it's hella bad feng shui to have your bed blocking a window. Both the nightstands are crappy tables I repainted. My ugly/cute bordello lamp's going on the one on the right.
Here's a closeup of the lefthand nightstand. That's the possible wedding pic of my grandmother. The other picture is a collage from an etsy artist, whose work you can also find at cobaltika.com.
My desk that I painted and chair I reupholstered. Isn't the fabric beautiful? Notice the faux finished wall behind it.
Addendum. Because I was asked, here's more of a closeup of the wall. I dunno. I don't think that really captures it. It doesn't look that shiny in real life. I think the upcomong picture where you can see the wall behind the bookcase is more representative of how it looks in life.
My new/old bookshelf that was assembled with very little cursing. The four pictures in the square frames on the top are postcards of New Orleans cemeteries that I bought down there in 1998 and which were just stuck in a drawer till now. The picture facing outward is another cobaltika collage, on a plaque. It's probably ultimately going to hang over my desk, but I ran out of hangers for heavy pictures.
Cheapo old printer stand now piled with folders of massage stuff and piles of manuscripts. Included to show how the desk and the bookshelves are in relation to each other.
You can't probably see it with the reflection of the flash, but that's one of Mr Indemnity's sepia New Orleans pictures framed and hanging between my two closets.
The problematic chest at the foot of the bed. Now with bonus remodeling supplies on top!
What Evil Kitty did to my carpet when she was a particularly evil baby...
but how could you be mad at that face????
And as a bonus! My Mother's Day tulips I said I'd put up someday. Are those the most gorgeous colors or what?
xoxodo I need this?
http://www.overstock.com/Home-Garden/Dark-Brown-Leather-Storage-Bench/1083500/product.html?
I've been looking at it for three days, ever since overstock sent me a sale email with it in it.
Pros: that's a great price, especially with $2.95 shipping and no sales tax. Also, it's gotten many great reviews, so I feel reasonably confident that it will look as nice in person as it does in the pic. Plus, it's leather; c'mon.
Cons: I said I was just going to paint the chest at the foot of my bed that I already have and worry about its broken hinges later. I will need both a new computer and a new refrigerator at some point, probably sooner rather than later, so I should cool it on the other big ticket items. Face it, I'll probably never use that beautiful leather bench for the purposes for which it was really designed.
Rebuttal: if I gave away my old chest on freecycle to someone who both knows how to fix the hinges and couldn't afford to buy a $300 chest/bench, think of both the good sense that makes and the good karma points I'd (w)rack up. I could probably convince my dad to buy the new refrigerator, especially since I haven't really been asking him to contribute to that many of the bills since the winter heating season ended. And, you know, never say never.
Rebuttal to rebuttal: I hate to ask my dad for anything, since he helped me a lot with the bills towards the end of school when I was running out of money and was really poor; I think we haven't caught up with that yet. And, yes, hope springs eternal, but reality bites.
I seriously am torn on what to do!
xoxo
I've been looking at it for three days, ever since overstock sent me a sale email with it in it.
Pros: that's a great price, especially with $2.95 shipping and no sales tax. Also, it's gotten many great reviews, so I feel reasonably confident that it will look as nice in person as it does in the pic. Plus, it's leather; c'mon.
Cons: I said I was just going to paint the chest at the foot of my bed that I already have and worry about its broken hinges later. I will need both a new computer and a new refrigerator at some point, probably sooner rather than later, so I should cool it on the other big ticket items. Face it, I'll probably never use that beautiful leather bench for the purposes for which it was really designed.
Rebuttal: if I gave away my old chest on freecycle to someone who both knows how to fix the hinges and couldn't afford to buy a $300 chest/bench, think of both the good sense that makes and the good karma points I'd (w)rack up. I could probably convince my dad to buy the new refrigerator, especially since I haven't really been asking him to contribute to that many of the bills since the winter heating season ended. And, you know, never say never.
Rebuttal to rebuttal: I hate to ask my dad for anything, since he helped me a lot with the bills towards the end of school when I was running out of money and was really poor; I think we haven't caught up with that yet. And, yes, hope springs eternal, but reality bites.
I seriously am torn on what to do!
xoxo
Friday, August 1, 2008
words you can and cannot say
Joking about the fact that you guys certainly don't need to feel any compunction to censor yourselves in here made me realize how unnatural my writing would feel to me if I couldn't use the word fuck in my blog. Not just as an expletive, you understand, but as a verb.
Because when I think of the act of sexual intercourse, in my head it's always fucking. In polite company I would say have sex but those are the only terms I use for that activity un-ironically. (Ironically I might say something like "some chick he's boinking" or something along those lines.) Why is that? Because some of the other terms or euphemisms that are commonly used squick me so much I can hardly think them, let alone say them. For example, the phrase making love skeeves me so much that just typing that caused me physical pain. It sounds like something people wearing polyester jumpsuits and/or bad moustaches would do while listening to Starland Vocal Band. Ew. So even the most tender, gentle, connected, loving sex will always be fucking to me. Case closed.
There are other words and phrases that make me react like that, too. I'm sure I could say panties out loud if you held a gun to my head, but I'd be shuddering while I did it. Underpants is almost, though not quite, as bad. This makes me fall back on the generic term underwear, but that's somewhat problematic, since women's underwear isn't all, y'know, the p-word. I would like to adopt the British word knickers, which is far superior, but it sounds affected coming from an American. The next best bet is to be more specific: boyshorts, bikinis, thong, tanga. But that runs the risk of making you sound like a catalog writer, eh?
I used to always prefer tits and breasts over boobs, but since I talk about my own so damn much, I've had to expand my vocabulary just for variety's sake. I will, however, be damned if I ever start calling them "the girls." No anthropomorphising my body parts, thanks much.
I would discuss my preferred terms for both male and female genitalia, but let's just leave that. I will, however, make my usual plea that if you wish to use the word vagina, please remember that it's an internal organ. Or I will be forced to point and laugh. Not that you have to be afraid of ridicule from a woman who can't say panties, but whatever.
Happy Friday!
xoxo
Because when I think of the act of sexual intercourse, in my head it's always fucking. In polite company I would say have sex but those are the only terms I use for that activity un-ironically. (Ironically I might say something like "some chick he's boinking" or something along those lines.) Why is that? Because some of the other terms or euphemisms that are commonly used squick me so much I can hardly think them, let alone say them. For example, the phrase making love skeeves me so much that just typing that caused me physical pain. It sounds like something people wearing polyester jumpsuits and/or bad moustaches would do while listening to Starland Vocal Band. Ew. So even the most tender, gentle, connected, loving sex will always be fucking to me. Case closed.
There are other words and phrases that make me react like that, too. I'm sure I could say panties out loud if you held a gun to my head, but I'd be shuddering while I did it. Underpants is almost, though not quite, as bad. This makes me fall back on the generic term underwear, but that's somewhat problematic, since women's underwear isn't all, y'know, the p-word. I would like to adopt the British word knickers, which is far superior, but it sounds affected coming from an American. The next best bet is to be more specific: boyshorts, bikinis, thong, tanga. But that runs the risk of making you sound like a catalog writer, eh?
I used to always prefer tits and breasts over boobs, but since I talk about my own so damn much, I've had to expand my vocabulary just for variety's sake. I will, however, be damned if I ever start calling them "the girls." No anthropomorphising my body parts, thanks much.
I would discuss my preferred terms for both male and female genitalia, but let's just leave that. I will, however, make my usual plea that if you wish to use the word vagina, please remember that it's an internal organ. Or I will be forced to point and laugh. Not that you have to be afraid of ridicule from a woman who can't say panties, but whatever.
Happy Friday!
xoxo
two things that must be said
1.) Jason Bay? Really? That's the best they could do?
2.) If you ever have occasion to take any kind of supplement or medication that warns on the label that it will change the color of your urine, try to keep that in the forefront of your mind so that you don't start hysterically cracking up in your employer's restroom. Um, just sayin'.
xoxo
2.) If you ever have occasion to take any kind of supplement or medication that warns on the label that it will change the color of your urine, try to keep that in the forefront of your mind so that you don't start hysterically cracking up in your employer's restroom. Um, just sayin'.
xoxo
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