My own Luddite revolution
For about fifteenth time in two days, an office here has told me that I can just print it out/change it/view it online. This is after I show up to the office to do it in person.
I love the internet. I do. It's that kind of sick, obsessive, addictive love...ameliorated through periods of going cold turkey in its absence. Brings a nice balance. Kumbaya.
However, the existence of online resources shouldn't prevent me from being able to do things face to face. For example, if I show up, don't tell me to go away.
I have anti-social moments where I would rather march in my own one-woman-pleather-bikini parade than have to deal with a real live person. In those moments, the internet is just faboo.
But if I'm standing in front of you, wouldn't it just be easier to hand me the form to fill out right there? Wouldn't the parents/wolves/fairy godmother who raised you kvell with your (at least, minimal) sense of hospitality? Dont' you miss the sense of accomplishment from being able to say, "Why, yes, you special, special person, I would be delighted to help you in whatever way I can, in line with my pay grade and number of minutes before my break!"
And if you're still going to send me away, at least offer me a cookie for my troubles.
a box labelled: Drum, light bulbs, cookie sheet
My unpacking is leading me to many wonderful discoveries. Like:
I kept these awful, awful pants?! Why??? I must have had a plan for them. I'll keep them until I figure out what that was.
The closet looks much bigger until I start to put things in it.
Being 5' tall is terribly convenient for quick measuring.
There is only so long I can avoid cleaning the bathroom.
I accidentally took my grandmother's shredder. And now have two.
I accidentally left a bookshelf at my grandmother's house. And now have one.
Many things are not going to match. And they're going to be very near each other.
I can avoid cleaning the bathroom a little bit longer.
A telling sign...
You may remember the snark of last year's orientation session for La Trobe's international students. It was very clearly not meant for us. It was meant for undergrad students coming from systems where regurgitation was the appropriate method by which to repsond, and coming to Oz to learn English. You'll recall my restraint in not throwing my shoe.
Yesterday, I attended the general Arts and Sciences grad student orientation at American. At lunch they grouped us into our programs and I met some loverly new folks. A professor from the dept. had come to chat with us and after a bit, looked around the circle and asked, "Does anyone know what time it is?" We all looked at each other for the answer. Why? Because no one was wearing a watch. Just one person, sitting on the side, had a watch on (and she said that she usually didn't wear one either). "And this is how you tell our MFA students. Always a little bit... quirky." I was waiting for her to say 'weird'.
Meanwhile on the other side of the room, the anthro and econ students kept their chairs in two neat rows, facing forward. The whole time. Even during the lunch discussion. I'm guessing they had watches on.
exchange of the day
Last Friday in Boston, at the Texas Road House, between my dad and 97-year-old grandmotherDAD: Hey Ma, would you like some of my beer?
BUBBIE: Will it get me drunk?
D: Your drink has more liquor in it than my beer.
B: I'll stick with mine then.
Help! Snuggling cats in need of lap to snuggle!
(Please repost/email/forward to anyone who might know someone!)
These are the cats of a doctor at my mom's office.
***
Two adorable, Chicago-area, cats need a new home by September 5th………
HELP! The parents are moving and the cats can't go with them.
Both cats are beautiful. They love each other, and should be adopted together, if possible.
Muffin is an 8-yr old female; white with two black spots above her eyes.
Ryan is a spunky 4-year old male; white with a tiger's tail.
Both have been declawed, fixed and have always been indoor/house cats….so that the owners did not get them shots last year.
Both are affectionate, Ryan especially so….Muffin takes a little while to warm up. The only small issue is that Ryan is on a CD/Kidney stone diet. This is easily handled by his food.
Please call Dr. Juan Engel (the cats' Dad) at work if you or someone you know might be interested……847.318.9595….ext. 232.
And please pass this along to your friends….who knows? They may know someone in need of love. 
So....close....and, yet.....so.....ridiculous....
The Plan B Emergency Contraception pill was approved today by the FDA after years (YEARS) of stalling, even beyond the usual eons-long foot-dragging on hot political issues. It wasn't just foot dragging, it was big, red elephant dragging.
For those unsure, the Plan B pill is not the "abortion pill" (RU-486). The Plan B pill is emergency
contraception - taken after unprotected sex, it can only prevent a (potential) pregnancy that hasn't yet happened. If the woman is already pregnant, the Plan B pill has no effect. It cannot terminate a pregnancy. It's just a safe, back-up birth control pill.
And even though birth control pills are legal and Plan B is now available over-the-counter (non-prescription), women still have to go up to their "moral", "wise" and "responsible" pharmacist
to ask for this pill. And under current policies of many pharmacies, it is up to his own discretion (and I do mean "his") whether he feels comfortable giving you the pill.
Why for this pill? Because the Plan B pill is still not available to women under 18. Yeah, because teen pregnancy isn't a problem in this country. Oh, and, btw, the argument that allowing teens access to the pill (and condoms and safer sex information and...) is going to encourage them to have sex, is bullshit. They are having sex anyway. You can't cut all the programs that help prevent teen pregnancy and then not give them access to the "morning after" pill (Plan B) and THEN also cut funding to all the services that help teen mothers after they have these kids. Someone explain to me what sense that makes.
And now it's time for another episode of
Heavy-Handed Sock Puppet TheatreGov't: Don't have sex.
Girl: Why not?
Gov't: Because nice young ladies don't do that.
Girl: What are you talking about?
Gov't: If you have sex, that means you have no morals. Slut!
Girl: But, my boyfriend and I love each other! We're already having sex.
Gov't: Well, don't use condoms - those give you diseases. You'll die from using them.
(Ah, yes, the "wisdom" passed out in gov't funded "sex ed" classes in many schools... Really.)
Girl: Okay, but we just had sex.
Gov't: Well, good luck with that. Hope you're not pregnant.
Girl: But what about the morning after pill?
Gov't: You can't have it. You'll have sex.
Girl: But I already have!
Gov't: No, if I give it to you, you'll have sex.
Girl: You aren't listening to me!
Gov't: Oh, you're welcome. I'm glad I could explain it to you.
And thus concludes this episode of Heavy-Handed Sock Pupput Theatre. Join us next time when Gov't explains "compassionate conservatism" to a group of teen moms.
They can either say "no preventative help" or "no help after", but they can't say both.
(link to Planned Parenthood article)
"You load 16 tons and what do ya get..."
Enormous 'thank you's to the faboo folks who helped me with the big move, on the Chicago, Boston, and DC fronts.
Erin, Nick, Maureen, and Gregg - you're awesome.
Mom, Alyssa, Rob, Dad and Christine - you're extra awesome.
I think that I and/or the universe would have im-/exploded without you. And then what would we have had? A big 'splody mess o' universe bits. And that's no good to anyone. Except maybe for those who decoupage. They probably could've done something with it. And with artistic flair. But, there really aren't enough decoupagers, so again, we'd be back to all being in a big mess. Good thing you helped to avoid that.
Thanks.
the poof
Chuck and turkey jerkey
fun over at
dooceClick me
The New Greyhound, indeed
"The New Greyhound" is apparently pretty much the same as the old Greyhound except that there are now a couple new banners that say "The New Greyhound."
Christine left for the bus this morning after an exhausting few days of moving large boxes of pillows and small bags of feathers. Perhaps there were a couple heavier things in there, as well.
After walking through the train station and its shiny new shops, major restaurants and large bookstore, we walked 10 minutes down the street to the bus station. The bus station has one generic greasy food outlet (Breakfast cheeseburgers at the Traveller's Grille, anyone? It's fancy 'cause it's spelled with an 'e'), a baby changing table only in the women's bathroom, and gate numbers on sheets of paper, hand written by some kid with a sharpie, taped up at skewed angles over each door. And no, they weren't just the interim signs during renovations. There were no renovations.
Just signs that said "The New Greyhound".
Oy.
Seen in the Albany airport yesterday:
The manufacturer of the rows of chairs at the gate?
Zaftig.
So I let my ass enjoy the spacious, Yiddish seating in an air-conditioned lounge in upstate NY, while I watched CNN project images of Haifa, in the aftermath of 180 Hezbolla rockets.
InterFuture says...
"Sorcery is not part of a healthy relationship." -Brian
"...how they live...how they love..." -Dave G (in a sudden shift to the touchy/feely side)
"Once you get one, they come like a waterfall." -Christine
"
Take It From Roger - Brian's latest film..." -Halley
"
Don't put nerve toxins on sensitive parts of your body." -Dave R
(fictional) USA! USA!
I love me some
West Wing Marathon Mondays.
(And yes, I realise that the photo is from the earlier years. If I'm going to recognise them as my "real" administration, then I don't see why it's that much further a step to pick which part of the series I want.)
Fastest (non-violent) gun in the city
It's a good thing I have an itchy trigger finger.
This weekend it got me an apartment.
By obsessively reloading the craiglist page, I was the first person to call for a posted apartment. Within 2 minutes of it being posted.
Call me hyper. Call me eager. Call me your Aunt Bertha, if you want, but I am now the new tenant of a shiny, old flat in the Schuyler Arms building in Dupont Circle.
Please. No applause.
In other news: I start my
program at American at the end of the month. Buy stock in chill pills - I have a feeling you'd make a killing very soon.
