i loved marisa tomei's dress. loved it.
i love marisa tomei. i mean, who doesn't? do you not love marisa tomei? you need your head checked if you don't love marisa tomei.
i also loved halle berry's dress. and halle berry's hair. and her skin. and her eyes. and her, well, her everything. (well, not her everything......i don't know about her everything. not that i want to! i don't! i. do. not. want. to. know. about. halle. berry's. everything!)
jennifer hudson looked pretty snazz-a-roo, too. they kept saying that her dress was coral or orange or something but it looked mostly red to me. i think i need a new t.v.
i was like totally what is up with amy adams' dress. the color was wrong, the style was boring, her hair popped out like a cigarette on fire. i love amy adams but she needs a new stylist.
nobody wore anything crazy. at least not that i saw. in my opinion, the oscars aren't the oscars unless somebody wears something crazy. back in the day, we could sit back and relax and know that cher would save the day. a bit more recently, we could leave it to bjork. every now and then, drew barrymore would throw something unexpected into the mix. but last night? last night was too predictable. no fire. (except for amy adams' hair)
the commercials sucked, too.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
(re)marks on a health care system
there's something wrong when the patient isn't the priority. period.
when efficiency is the priority or convenience (for the provider) is the priority or revenue is the priority, that's wrong.
probably nobody would argue that.
but we all accept it.
well, i did my part to un-accept it this week:
i got hit with the flu, bronchitis, and a sinus infection all at once. it started on monday morning. i woke up, fully intending to go to work that day, got out of bed and was like, whoa, nellie!
i was so sick. i was awful. i could barely scrape myself back into the bed and then get out again when i had to.
i was sick. and i needed a doctor.
so i called my pcp and made an appointment for 3.30 that day. how i was gonna get myself there, i had no idea. turns out, i didn't get myself there. i couldn't get myself there. even if someone had driven me, i couldn't have done it. i could. not. do. all. the. things. a. person. needs. to. do. to. get. out. of. bed. and. get. ready. to. go. to. the. doctor.
i couldn't do it. period.
so, around noon, when it became apparent that there was no way i was going to the doctor, i called them and told them there was no way i was going to the doctor. i cancelled the 3.30 appointment and let it go at that. i didn't know what i was going to do, but for now, i was going back to sleep.
later that afternoon, i managed to call the doctor back. i realized i had to see him eventually - no, not eventually - soon. just not today.
i asked for an appointment on tuesday. nope, doctor's booked.
wednesday?
booked.
look, i said, i am incredibly, acutely ill, and i am a long time patient of dr. fill- in-the-blank. please. surely you can squeeze me in somewhere.
"dr. fill-in-the-blank has nothing available until thursday at 11.15."
please.
"nope. sorry. you shouldn't've cancelled your 3.30."
ma'am, i had no choice but to cancel. i can't get out of the bed! i am sick beyond belief!
"if you're sick beyond belief, you shouldn't have cancelled your 3.30."
ok, look. what about this? can dr. fill-in-the-blank phone me in an antibiotic? he knows my health history like the back of his hand. i've been seeing him since 1985. i get bronchitis all the time, and i am sure i have it now. please?"
"nope. can't call antibiotics in without being seen. practice policy."
ok.....ok......so, no shot at a house call, huh?
"hrmpfh!"
ok, well........i don't know what to do. i don't know what to do. i am sick as a dog and i need a doctor but i can't get myself to a doctor. i don't know what to do."
"you shouldn't have cancelled your 3.30."
a few minutes later, i called back.
i would like to leave a message to have dr. fill-in-the-blank call me, please.
"a message?"
yes. a message.
"dr. fill-in-the-blank is busy all day, back to back, with patients."
i understand. he can call me whenever. either between patients or later this evening after he has gotten home. whatever.
"dr. fill-in-the-blank is busy."
i know that! i get that! tell him he can call me whenever it suits him!
"i'll give him the message."
thank you.
a few minutes later, she calls back.
"nancy?"
yes.
"i told dr. fill-in-the-blank that you want him to call you but he said you'll have to make an appointment."
so, long story short? i ended up on tuesday afternoon at one of cvs's minute clinics. then, on thursday, as encouraged by the nurse practitioner at cvs, i kept the 11.15 appointment with dr. fill-in-the-blank.
i had decided before i went in there that i was gonna fire him. not just for this reason.......there have been other issues over the years.......but i'll be damned if i will be dismissed like this, by a doctor who has benefited from my money for over 25 years. i will be damned.
so, i knew i was gonna fire him, but i wasn't gonna do it before he checked me out and gave me a script or two. then i was gonna lay it on him.
except......i got a little side-tracked.
his office is converting to paperless, so he had this nifty little laptop with him. he was struggling to use it and i could tell he was exasperated. i asked him how it's goin' with all the new technology.
"awful," he said. "awful."
yeah, i said, i can relate. i'm havin' trouble at work, too, with all the new do-dads and gadgets they want us to use.
"it slows me down!" he said. "it slows me down, and i can't see as many patients as before!"
i hear ya, i said. i'm havin' the same problem. i hate it. i hear ya.
"first of all, buying all this equipment cost us a lot of money. and then, we had to hire someone to help us get it all set up and to train us. that was money we couldn't afford. and now, on top of it all, i can't see as many patients! which means......"
(at this point i was thinking, i know what he means. he means that, damn, this isn't why he went into medicine in the first place. this isn't why i went into social work! he went into medicine to help people, just like i went into social work to help people. and now, here comes all this high-falutin' technology to mess it all up.) i knew what he was thinking. i knew.
"...and now, on top of it all, i can't see as many patients! which means......i can't make as much money!"
BAM.
WOW.
FIRED.
SOOOOOOOOOO FIRED.
so much for "first, do no harm."
when efficiency is the priority or convenience (for the provider) is the priority or revenue is the priority, that's wrong.
probably nobody would argue that.
but we all accept it.
well, i did my part to un-accept it this week:
i got hit with the flu, bronchitis, and a sinus infection all at once. it started on monday morning. i woke up, fully intending to go to work that day, got out of bed and was like, whoa, nellie!
i was so sick. i was awful. i could barely scrape myself back into the bed and then get out again when i had to.
i was sick. and i needed a doctor.
so i called my pcp and made an appointment for 3.30 that day. how i was gonna get myself there, i had no idea. turns out, i didn't get myself there. i couldn't get myself there. even if someone had driven me, i couldn't have done it. i could. not. do. all. the. things. a. person. needs. to. do. to. get. out. of. bed. and. get. ready. to. go. to. the. doctor.
i couldn't do it. period.
so, around noon, when it became apparent that there was no way i was going to the doctor, i called them and told them there was no way i was going to the doctor. i cancelled the 3.30 appointment and let it go at that. i didn't know what i was going to do, but for now, i was going back to sleep.
later that afternoon, i managed to call the doctor back. i realized i had to see him eventually - no, not eventually - soon. just not today.
i asked for an appointment on tuesday. nope, doctor's booked.
wednesday?
booked.
look, i said, i am incredibly, acutely ill, and i am a long time patient of dr. fill- in-the-blank. please. surely you can squeeze me in somewhere.
"dr. fill-in-the-blank has nothing available until thursday at 11.15."
please.
"nope. sorry. you shouldn't've cancelled your 3.30."
ma'am, i had no choice but to cancel. i can't get out of the bed! i am sick beyond belief!
"if you're sick beyond belief, you shouldn't have cancelled your 3.30."
ok, look. what about this? can dr. fill-in-the-blank phone me in an antibiotic? he knows my health history like the back of his hand. i've been seeing him since 1985. i get bronchitis all the time, and i am sure i have it now. please?"
"nope. can't call antibiotics in without being seen. practice policy."
ok.....ok......so, no shot at a house call, huh?
"hrmpfh!"
ok, well........i don't know what to do. i don't know what to do. i am sick as a dog and i need a doctor but i can't get myself to a doctor. i don't know what to do."
"you shouldn't have cancelled your 3.30."
a few minutes later, i called back.
i would like to leave a message to have dr. fill-in-the-blank call me, please.
"a message?"
yes. a message.
"dr. fill-in-the-blank is busy all day, back to back, with patients."
i understand. he can call me whenever. either between patients or later this evening after he has gotten home. whatever.
"dr. fill-in-the-blank is busy."
i know that! i get that! tell him he can call me whenever it suits him!
"i'll give him the message."
thank you.
a few minutes later, she calls back.
"nancy?"
yes.
"i told dr. fill-in-the-blank that you want him to call you but he said you'll have to make an appointment."
so, long story short? i ended up on tuesday afternoon at one of cvs's minute clinics. then, on thursday, as encouraged by the nurse practitioner at cvs, i kept the 11.15 appointment with dr. fill-in-the-blank.
i had decided before i went in there that i was gonna fire him. not just for this reason.......there have been other issues over the years.......but i'll be damned if i will be dismissed like this, by a doctor who has benefited from my money for over 25 years. i will be damned.
so, i knew i was gonna fire him, but i wasn't gonna do it before he checked me out and gave me a script or two. then i was gonna lay it on him.
except......i got a little side-tracked.
his office is converting to paperless, so he had this nifty little laptop with him. he was struggling to use it and i could tell he was exasperated. i asked him how it's goin' with all the new technology.
"awful," he said. "awful."
yeah, i said, i can relate. i'm havin' trouble at work, too, with all the new do-dads and gadgets they want us to use.
"it slows me down!" he said. "it slows me down, and i can't see as many patients as before!"
i hear ya, i said. i'm havin' the same problem. i hate it. i hear ya.
"first of all, buying all this equipment cost us a lot of money. and then, we had to hire someone to help us get it all set up and to train us. that was money we couldn't afford. and now, on top of it all, i can't see as many patients! which means......"
(at this point i was thinking, i know what he means. he means that, damn, this isn't why he went into medicine in the first place. this isn't why i went into social work! he went into medicine to help people, just like i went into social work to help people. and now, here comes all this high-falutin' technology to mess it all up.) i knew what he was thinking. i knew.
"...and now, on top of it all, i can't see as many patients! which means......i can't make as much money!"
BAM.
WOW.
FIRED.
SOOOOOOOOOO FIRED.
so much for "first, do no harm."
Sunday, February 20, 2011
presidents' day? president's day? presidents day
look, i'm hardly saying that the columbus city schools is an expert on freaking anything, but i was in one of their classrooms last week and i read that "presidents day" (that's how they wrote it) is really only meant to honor george washington - but that most people think it is also intended to honor abraham lincoln and more recently, a lot of people think "presidents day" is set aside to honor all presidents.......or at least the ones you like(d).
when i read this, i was surprised. "presidents day" is only supposed to be in honor of george washington? since when? since when did abe get the axe? (maybe george chopped abe down after he chopped the cherry tree down?)
i have always thought that "presidents' day" (take note of the apostrophe, please) is a celebration of george washington and abraham lincoln, and i believe anybody with half a brain has always thought the same thing.
now, i realize that in recent years (and by recent years i mean bill clinton), it has become sort of "fashionable," if that's the right word (and it's not - the right "word" is PC)) to honor any dang president you want. it's the presidential equivalent of even if you didn't finish the race, you get a ribbon.
but to go so far as to say that "presidents day" is only supposed to be for george washington? and not honest abe? well, honestly! that's positively sacrilegious!
not to mention the obvious: if "presidents day" is only in honor of one president, i.e. george washington, then why do the columbus city schools call it "presidents day?" why don't they call it "president's day?"
all of this notwithstanding, the bottom line is, clearly, nobody associated with the columbus city schools should be taking tomorrow off. there's obviously a whole lot of presidents/presidents'/ president's learning yet to be done.
and no. not bill clinton.
when i read this, i was surprised. "presidents day" is only supposed to be in honor of george washington? since when? since when did abe get the axe? (maybe george chopped abe down after he chopped the cherry tree down?)
i have always thought that "presidents' day" (take note of the apostrophe, please) is a celebration of george washington and abraham lincoln, and i believe anybody with half a brain has always thought the same thing.
now, i realize that in recent years (and by recent years i mean bill clinton), it has become sort of "fashionable," if that's the right word (and it's not - the right "word" is PC)) to honor any dang president you want. it's the presidential equivalent of even if you didn't finish the race, you get a ribbon.
but to go so far as to say that "presidents day" is only supposed to be for george washington? and not honest abe? well, honestly! that's positively sacrilegious!
not to mention the obvious: if "presidents day" is only in honor of one president, i.e. george washington, then why do the columbus city schools call it "presidents day?" why don't they call it "president's day?"
all of this notwithstanding, the bottom line is, clearly, nobody associated with the columbus city schools should be taking tomorrow off. there's obviously a whole lot of presidents/presidents'/ president's learning yet to be done.
and no. not bill clinton.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
what's for lunch? alphabet soup!
just yesterday alone:
PPO, DS, FCC, FCCS, DMV, LTD, BMW, PIN, PIN, PIN, PIN, LMAO, PTO, PTA, AWOL, BRB, PDQ, ASAP, TBA, ETA, AFL-CIO, PIN, MIA, CDC, HSA, MRI, BBL, NBC, CBS, ABC, CNN, DOA, PEP, PIN, PIN, JPG, VW, GMAC, AFD, PDD, DDD, BDD, CBEFD, PIN, SSA, AAA, AARP, PIN, PIN, AND PIN.
OK?
SO, WE KNOW THE WORLD IS REALLY IN TROUBLE WHEN I USE THIS MANY CAPITAL LETTERS.
PPO, DS, FCC, FCCS, DMV, LTD, BMW, PIN, PIN, PIN, PIN, LMAO, PTO, PTA, AWOL, BRB, PDQ, ASAP, TBA, ETA, AFL-CIO, PIN, MIA, CDC, HSA, MRI, BBL, NBC, CBS, ABC, CNN, DOA, PEP, PIN, PIN, JPG, VW, GMAC, AFD, PDD, DDD, BDD, CBEFD, PIN, SSA, AAA, AARP, PIN, PIN, AND PIN.
OK?
SO, WE KNOW THE WORLD IS REALLY IN TROUBLE WHEN I USE THIS MANY CAPITAL LETTERS.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
ok, so, here's what YOUR name tastes like.....
everybody's been sending me emails and f/b messages, so here goes:
adrianne/adrienne - cooked rhubarb (LOVE it!!!!)
alecia - apple pie
amy - just like eli, it tastes like lemon jello before it is congealed
becky - pringles potato chips
bert - see "carolyn" below. (sorry, bert.) :(
beth - tastes like the smell of wet diapers. i know! but in a good way. really.
bill - chocolate covered ice cream bar
bob - cherry tootsie roll pop
cathy/kathy - strawberry cake batter
carolyn - sorry, carolyn, but you probably don't want to know.
christy/and every other way you can spell it - graham crackers with cinnamon on them
claudia - biscuit dough
denise/denice - sauerkraut
faith - sounds bad, but it isn't. (kinda like the beth thing)- tastes like bacon fat, before you cook the bacon. when it's still a solid.
georgy/georgie - shredded roast beef. it HAS to be shredded. some of my synesthesia involves being able to feel sounds, too, and so the texture of this one is very important.
jeff - waffles with lots of syrup on them
judy/judi - tastes like those little conversational candy hearts that you get on valentine's day
karen/karan - ditto carolyn. bummer.
kurt/curt - coleslaw without the mayo
leslie - italian salad dressing
lorraine - lorraine is a "sound alike." there are some sounds that do, in fact, taste like they sound, and lorraine is one of them.......it tastes like rain water.
lynn/lynne - just like lorraine, lynn/lynne tastes like it sounds.......linty.
margaret - a big marshmallow with a walnut in the middle of it
mark - another intersting one that sounds bad but it really isn't.......it makes my throat a little bit sore.
mary - this is gonna sound weird (yeah, like the rest of 'em don't?), but mary tastes like really, really pale tomatoes. the kind that you usually get on your burger at mcdonald's.
melody - sorta like orange sherbet, but not exactly. can't pin this one down.
nancy - chocolate cake batter
roger - this is one of the most intriguing ones of all.....i have a big back story to "roger," which i will share with you at a later time. it tastes like a rope with mayonnaise on it which, no, i have never eaten a rope with mayonnaise nor have i ever even seen a rope with mayonnaise on it. and i hope i never do!
vickie/vicky - really dried out walnut shells
i know. weird.
adrianne/adrienne - cooked rhubarb (LOVE it!!!!)
alecia - apple pie
amy - just like eli, it tastes like lemon jello before it is congealed
becky - pringles potato chips
bert - see "carolyn" below. (sorry, bert.) :(
beth - tastes like the smell of wet diapers. i know! but in a good way. really.
bill - chocolate covered ice cream bar
bob - cherry tootsie roll pop
cathy/kathy - strawberry cake batter
carolyn - sorry, carolyn, but you probably don't want to know.
christy/and every other way you can spell it - graham crackers with cinnamon on them
claudia - biscuit dough
denise/denice - sauerkraut
faith - sounds bad, but it isn't. (kinda like the beth thing)- tastes like bacon fat, before you cook the bacon. when it's still a solid.
georgy/georgie - shredded roast beef. it HAS to be shredded. some of my synesthesia involves being able to feel sounds, too, and so the texture of this one is very important.
jeff - waffles with lots of syrup on them
judy/judi - tastes like those little conversational candy hearts that you get on valentine's day
karen/karan - ditto carolyn. bummer.
kurt/curt - coleslaw without the mayo
leslie - italian salad dressing
lorraine - lorraine is a "sound alike." there are some sounds that do, in fact, taste like they sound, and lorraine is one of them.......it tastes like rain water.
lynn/lynne - just like lorraine, lynn/lynne tastes like it sounds.......linty.
margaret - a big marshmallow with a walnut in the middle of it
mark - another intersting one that sounds bad but it really isn't.......it makes my throat a little bit sore.
mary - this is gonna sound weird (yeah, like the rest of 'em don't?), but mary tastes like really, really pale tomatoes. the kind that you usually get on your burger at mcdonald's.
melody - sorta like orange sherbet, but not exactly. can't pin this one down.
nancy - chocolate cake batter
roger - this is one of the most intriguing ones of all.....i have a big back story to "roger," which i will share with you at a later time. it tastes like a rope with mayonnaise on it which, no, i have never eaten a rope with mayonnaise nor have i ever even seen a rope with mayonnaise on it. and i hope i never do!
vickie/vicky - really dried out walnut shells
i know. weird.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
my synesthesia
some of you know and some of you don't - i have a condition called "synesthesia," and what it means, basically, is that my brain is kaplooey and as a result, i can taste sounds. true story. i. can. taste. sounds.
synesthesia can take several forms - some synesthetes can hear colors. some can taste colors. some can feel sounds, and still others can taste sounds. that's what i do. i taste sounds. sounds goofy!
it is goofy! and it's also fun! i can't imagine what life would be like if i didn't taste sounds. conversation would be sooooooooo boring. music would be soooooooooo boring. everything would be soooooooooooo boring. i mean, wouldn't it? isn't it?
in the course of a typical spoken sentence, i will taste about 3 or 4 or 5 flavors - sometimes more.
take "in the course of a typical spoken sentence, i will taste about 3 or 4 or 5 flavors - sometimes more." to me, that tastes like this: "in butter coleslaw butter a noodles cement vinegar, i melted velveeta taste about grape popsicle sloppy joe 4 sloppy joe 5 flavors - sometimes sloppy joe."
i. am. not. making. this. up. (look it up!)
i have probably done this since birth ("birth" tastes like angel food cake), but my earliest memory of it is in the 3rd grade. however, it wasn't until i was a sophomore in college that i found out that not everyone tastes sounds......and it wasn't until then that anyone found out that i could! i had never said a word to anyone about it because, well, why mention what i thought was pervasive? it would be like saying, "my heart beats." well, duh......doesn't everybody's?
over the years, my ability to taste sounds has expanded. for most of my life, i could "only" taste words, but i now can also taste music, white noise, and other sounds. still, by far, the most pronounced flavors come from spoken words.
including names.
and that is where it really gets fun.......especially if we're in the market for "what to name the new baby!" :)
for most people, trying to figure out what to name the new baby probably ranges somewhere between pleasant and difficult. for me, it's a rip-roarin', good time smorgasbord!
abby (tastes like apple dumplings) and eli (tastes like lemon jello before it is congealed) have pretty much already settled on what to name their new baby if it's a girl. since it is their perogative to announce that name - not mine - i will not tell you what they have chosen, but i will tell you what it tastes like:
the first name tastes like a cross between cotton candy and the smell of joy dish liquid and the middle name tastes like cracker jacks.
really! no lie! is that a great name or what?
i can't imagine what life would be like if i didn't taste sounds. life would be sooooooooo boring. conversation would be soooooooooooo boring. music would be sooooooooooo boring. everything would be sooooooooooo boring.i mean, wouldn't it?
(well. everything except my grandchildren, that is.)
:)
synesthesia can take several forms - some synesthetes can hear colors. some can taste colors. some can feel sounds, and still others can taste sounds. that's what i do. i taste sounds. sounds goofy!
it is goofy! and it's also fun! i can't imagine what life would be like if i didn't taste sounds. conversation would be sooooooooo boring. music would be soooooooooo boring. everything would be soooooooooooo boring. i mean, wouldn't it? isn't it?
in the course of a typical spoken sentence, i will taste about 3 or 4 or 5 flavors - sometimes more.
take "in the course of a typical spoken sentence, i will taste about 3 or 4 or 5 flavors - sometimes more." to me, that tastes like this: "in butter coleslaw butter a noodles cement vinegar, i melted velveeta taste about grape popsicle sloppy joe 4 sloppy joe 5 flavors - sometimes sloppy joe."
i. am. not. making. this. up. (look it up!)
i have probably done this since birth ("birth" tastes like angel food cake), but my earliest memory of it is in the 3rd grade. however, it wasn't until i was a sophomore in college that i found out that not everyone tastes sounds......and it wasn't until then that anyone found out that i could! i had never said a word to anyone about it because, well, why mention what i thought was pervasive? it would be like saying, "my heart beats." well, duh......doesn't everybody's?
over the years, my ability to taste sounds has expanded. for most of my life, i could "only" taste words, but i now can also taste music, white noise, and other sounds. still, by far, the most pronounced flavors come from spoken words.
including names.
and that is where it really gets fun.......especially if we're in the market for "what to name the new baby!" :)
for most people, trying to figure out what to name the new baby probably ranges somewhere between pleasant and difficult. for me, it's a rip-roarin', good time smorgasbord!
abby (tastes like apple dumplings) and eli (tastes like lemon jello before it is congealed) have pretty much already settled on what to name their new baby if it's a girl. since it is their perogative to announce that name - not mine - i will not tell you what they have chosen, but i will tell you what it tastes like:
the first name tastes like a cross between cotton candy and the smell of joy dish liquid and the middle name tastes like cracker jacks.
really! no lie! is that a great name or what?
i can't imagine what life would be like if i didn't taste sounds. life would be sooooooooo boring. conversation would be soooooooooooo boring. music would be sooooooooooo boring. everything would be sooooooooooo boring.i mean, wouldn't it?
(well. everything except my grandchildren, that is.)
:)
Sunday, February 13, 2011
michelle obama and her food thing
ok, look. i don't really have a problem with it if michelle obama wants everybody (except her and her family on super bowl sunday) to eat right.
i don't blame her for not eating right on super bowl sunday. who eats right on super bowl sunday?
i also don't really have a problem with her trying to get american restaurants to be less american but i do have a problem with the american government trying to get american restaurants to be less american.
when american governments - fed, state, or local - start telling restaurants how much salt and grease to use, that ticks me off.
except why should it tick me off? american governments tell restaurants all the time how cold they gotta keep the food and how hot they gotta keep the food and whether or not the counter they're choppin' the chicken on is clean enough. so why not tell restaurants how much salt and grease to use?
the other thing is, michelle obama is not the government.
but the other thing is, she's married to it. and that's gettin' a little too close for my comfort.
and the other thing is, if laura bush can tell school kids that reading is good for them, why can't michelle obama tell school kids that eating fries 24/7 isn't good for them?
but the other thing is, i would rather michelle obama not spend so many of my tax dollars flying her family around on fancy planes.
especially if those planes have burgers on them.
i don't blame her for not eating right on super bowl sunday. who eats right on super bowl sunday?
i also don't really have a problem with her trying to get american restaurants to be less american but i do have a problem with the american government trying to get american restaurants to be less american.
when american governments - fed, state, or local - start telling restaurants how much salt and grease to use, that ticks me off.
except why should it tick me off? american governments tell restaurants all the time how cold they gotta keep the food and how hot they gotta keep the food and whether or not the counter they're choppin' the chicken on is clean enough. so why not tell restaurants how much salt and grease to use?
the other thing is, michelle obama is not the government.
but the other thing is, she's married to it. and that's gettin' a little too close for my comfort.
and the other thing is, if laura bush can tell school kids that reading is good for them, why can't michelle obama tell school kids that eating fries 24/7 isn't good for them?
but the other thing is, i would rather michelle obama not spend so many of my tax dollars flying her family around on fancy planes.
especially if those planes have burgers on them.
if i act like a fool, will you let me do your taxes?
now, ordinarily, no, but those statue of liberty folks sorta melt my heart. sup with me?
you know who i mean, right? they dress up like the statue of liberty or maybe uncle sam and they stand on the street corner, waving their arms all over creation, trying to get your attention (how could they not get your attention?) so that you will decide not to go to target to buy that cute little wall hanging that just went on sale and instead you will stop to let some hapless goofball with a giant green crown on his head who probably got kicked out of the circus figure out how much money you owe the feds.
ordinarily, you would LOL and breeze right by a guy like that, right?
well, i have breezed by plenty of guys like that and yesterday was no exception. i breezed by two uncle sams, two statues of liberty (but my heart did melt a little), and one something-or-other that was maybe a cross between a clown (see? got kicked out of the circus) and a glow worm. or maybe it was a pterodactyl.
anyway, those guys weren't that hard to resist, but the santa claus was.
yes - santa claus! it was brilliant! who better to do your taxes than santa claus? the one guy in the whole wide world whose only job is to get. you. what. you. want. (and you can be darned sure he doesn't pay any taxes doin' it!)
who better than santa claus to sweeten the deal?
so, what i did was, i breezed past santa, and then i turned around. i pulled into the target lot, turned around, and drove back past the santa claus - a good, fat, jolly one, at that - and slowed my car down.
i thought about stopping.
he could tell i was thinking about it.
we made eye contact.
maybe he'll still be there today.
you know who i mean, right? they dress up like the statue of liberty or maybe uncle sam and they stand on the street corner, waving their arms all over creation, trying to get your attention (how could they not get your attention?) so that you will decide not to go to target to buy that cute little wall hanging that just went on sale and instead you will stop to let some hapless goofball with a giant green crown on his head who probably got kicked out of the circus figure out how much money you owe the feds.
ordinarily, you would LOL and breeze right by a guy like that, right?
well, i have breezed by plenty of guys like that and yesterday was no exception. i breezed by two uncle sams, two statues of liberty (but my heart did melt a little), and one something-or-other that was maybe a cross between a clown (see? got kicked out of the circus) and a glow worm. or maybe it was a pterodactyl.
anyway, those guys weren't that hard to resist, but the santa claus was.
yes - santa claus! it was brilliant! who better to do your taxes than santa claus? the one guy in the whole wide world whose only job is to get. you. what. you. want. (and you can be darned sure he doesn't pay any taxes doin' it!)
who better than santa claus to sweeten the deal?
so, what i did was, i breezed past santa, and then i turned around. i pulled into the target lot, turned around, and drove back past the santa claus - a good, fat, jolly one, at that - and slowed my car down.
i thought about stopping.
he could tell i was thinking about it.
we made eye contact.
maybe he'll still be there today.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
effen broken hearts
i was in a 5th grade class the other day and, as usual, the 5th graders were calling each other - and their teacher - "effen w--," "effen n--," and effen everything else. except they didn't say "effen." if you know what i mean.
sometimes they said it in anger and sometimes they said it to be "nice," as in, "you my effen dawg, man."
they said it loudly and aggressively and they said it in normal conversational tones.
it was an effen regular day in a public school.
but then, i noticed something that was not effen regular at all. i noticed a stack of paper bags - the size you'd use to pack your lunch in (or even your effen lunch in). only these bags weren't brown. they were white. pure, crisp, whiter-than-snow, and unblemished white. i wondered what they were for.
i didn't wonder long.
next to the stack of white paper bags was a stack of construction paper - red, pink, and purple construction paper. and next to the construction paper was a big box, filled with things like glitter and glue and doilies and stickers and ribbons and bows.
glitter and glue and doilies and stickers and ribbons and bows.
in the land of "effen," there are kids who still want a valentine.
and it struck me. it struck me. those effen kids who want a valentine do not want an effen valentine - they want a nice, sweet, innocent, non-effen valentine. just like they want (need) a nice, sweet, innocent, non-effen life.
they want a nice, sweet, innocent, non-effen life. but we have told them they can't have it.
we have told them that nice, sweet, innocent, non-effen lives are fairy tales - the kind that feature beaver cleaver - but not the kind that feature real people.
we have told them that the "real world" isn't nice and sweet and innocent and non-effen and so, they don't need to be, either.
we have told them to wear what we wear, talk like we talk, swear like we swear, rap what we rap, and disrespect what we disrespect - which is pretty much everything. we disrespect family. we disrespect religion. we disrespect tradition. we disrespect effen life, and if you don't think so, refresh your memory how the supreme court ruled on roe v. wade.
but these kids - these so-called "modern family" kids - these kids who don't have two parents out there somewhere in the world (never even mind in the home) who give a crap about them, these kids who are being raised by themselves or by a "latchkey program" because their moms are too busy advancing their careers to do it, these kids who are being force-fed this line of bull about everything being a choice and nothing being inherently good or bad - these kids want an effen valentine. they want an effen valentine that looks like effen valentines used to look - back in the day before they became effen valentines.
and if they want that, why do we continue to fool ourselves that they don't want more?
why do we continue to rail that they don't want decency and stability and custom and reliability and a dad who goes to work because he wants to feed his family, not because he wants to be "fulfilled?"
why won't we admit that they want pants that don't sag and fellow students who do raise their hands and a hot breakfast at home instead of this government-issued crap?
that, despite what self-actualized hillary clinton thinks, they do want a nice cookie waiting for them when they get home from school. at 3:30 - not 6:00. and a parent who has the time and patience and love - and lack of selfishness - to give it to them.
they want an effen "valentine".
but we won't effen let 'em have it.
sometimes they said it in anger and sometimes they said it to be "nice," as in, "you my effen dawg, man."
they said it loudly and aggressively and they said it in normal conversational tones.
it was an effen regular day in a public school.
but then, i noticed something that was not effen regular at all. i noticed a stack of paper bags - the size you'd use to pack your lunch in (or even your effen lunch in). only these bags weren't brown. they were white. pure, crisp, whiter-than-snow, and unblemished white. i wondered what they were for.
i didn't wonder long.
next to the stack of white paper bags was a stack of construction paper - red, pink, and purple construction paper. and next to the construction paper was a big box, filled with things like glitter and glue and doilies and stickers and ribbons and bows.
glitter and glue and doilies and stickers and ribbons and bows.
in the land of "effen," there are kids who still want a valentine.
and it struck me. it struck me. those effen kids who want a valentine do not want an effen valentine - they want a nice, sweet, innocent, non-effen valentine. just like they want (need) a nice, sweet, innocent, non-effen life.
they want a nice, sweet, innocent, non-effen life. but we have told them they can't have it.
we have told them that nice, sweet, innocent, non-effen lives are fairy tales - the kind that feature beaver cleaver - but not the kind that feature real people.
we have told them that the "real world" isn't nice and sweet and innocent and non-effen and so, they don't need to be, either.
we have told them to wear what we wear, talk like we talk, swear like we swear, rap what we rap, and disrespect what we disrespect - which is pretty much everything. we disrespect family. we disrespect religion. we disrespect tradition. we disrespect effen life, and if you don't think so, refresh your memory how the supreme court ruled on roe v. wade.
but these kids - these so-called "modern family" kids - these kids who don't have two parents out there somewhere in the world (never even mind in the home) who give a crap about them, these kids who are being raised by themselves or by a "latchkey program" because their moms are too busy advancing their careers to do it, these kids who are being force-fed this line of bull about everything being a choice and nothing being inherently good or bad - these kids want an effen valentine. they want an effen valentine that looks like effen valentines used to look - back in the day before they became effen valentines.
and if they want that, why do we continue to fool ourselves that they don't want more?
why do we continue to rail that they don't want decency and stability and custom and reliability and a dad who goes to work because he wants to feed his family, not because he wants to be "fulfilled?"
why won't we admit that they want pants that don't sag and fellow students who do raise their hands and a hot breakfast at home instead of this government-issued crap?
that, despite what self-actualized hillary clinton thinks, they do want a nice cookie waiting for them when they get home from school. at 3:30 - not 6:00. and a parent who has the time and patience and love - and lack of selfishness - to give it to them.
they want an effen "valentine".
but we won't effen let 'em have it.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
charlie wants pizza! at grammy's!
every other sunday evening, my parents and abby and eli and the twins come over for dinner. i borrowed a sweet custom from abby's step-mom ----- rotating through the family and letting them take turns choosing what i will make. this coming sunday is abby's turn to pick, but when i asked her what she wanted me to cook for dinner, she said that she wanted to pass her turn on to charlie. because apparently one day this week, charlie declared while riding in the car with mom and olivia that he wants "pizza at grammy's!"
now, two thing come immediately to mind. well, three things. four, actually, but i gotta get in the shower, so we're short on time.
the first thing is, charlie has never had pizza at grammy's - or if he has, it didn't appear to me to be something memorable. cuz i don't remember it.
two - what funny little thingamajig in charlie's brain made him spontaneously mention pizza at grammy's while riding in the car? i hope it isn't the same funny little thingamajig in my brain that makes me spontaneously do all sorts of weird things -while riding in cars and while not riding in cars.
third is, how dear of abby to capitalize on charlie's interest and defer this week's menu to him. abby could have just as easily said, "well, charlie bear, the week after next will be your turn to pick what we have for dinner at grammy's and if you want to pick pizza then, you can pick pizza then." (which, frankly, is probably what i woulda done, especially considering the fact that what i probably woulda wanted grammy to make is pasta puttanesca or maybe a nice lobster ravioli.)
and since i typed this faster than i expected and so i still have a few minutes left before i have to hop in the shower, we can move on to the fourth thing that immediately comes to mind when you hear the words, "charlie wants pizza at grammy's" : what kind of pizza does charlie want............
your basic cheese?
your basic pepperoni?
your basic grilled asparagus with marinated goat cheese and balsamic drizzle over sun-dried tomatoes?................ BINGO!
(he did say "pizza at grammy's," folks.)
now, two thing come immediately to mind. well, three things. four, actually, but i gotta get in the shower, so we're short on time.
the first thing is, charlie has never had pizza at grammy's - or if he has, it didn't appear to me to be something memorable. cuz i don't remember it.
two - what funny little thingamajig in charlie's brain made him spontaneously mention pizza at grammy's while riding in the car? i hope it isn't the same funny little thingamajig in my brain that makes me spontaneously do all sorts of weird things -while riding in cars and while not riding in cars.
third is, how dear of abby to capitalize on charlie's interest and defer this week's menu to him. abby could have just as easily said, "well, charlie bear, the week after next will be your turn to pick what we have for dinner at grammy's and if you want to pick pizza then, you can pick pizza then." (which, frankly, is probably what i woulda done, especially considering the fact that what i probably woulda wanted grammy to make is pasta puttanesca or maybe a nice lobster ravioli.)
and since i typed this faster than i expected and so i still have a few minutes left before i have to hop in the shower, we can move on to the fourth thing that immediately comes to mind when you hear the words, "charlie wants pizza at grammy's" : what kind of pizza does charlie want............
your basic cheese?
your basic pepperoni?
your basic grilled asparagus with marinated goat cheese and balsamic drizzle over sun-dried tomatoes?................ BINGO!
(he did say "pizza at grammy's," folks.)
Sunday, February 6, 2011
would YOU wanna listen to somebody's boring confession? i know i wouldn't.
of all the things about a priest's job that are difficult, i think having to listen to some stupid parishoner's long list of boring sins has to be the worst. i mean, who cares if you cussed at a traffic light?
whenever i see a kid go into the confessional, i'm like, that poor, poor priest. he's gotta hear a bunch of crap about how the kid pulled his sister's hair and stole her diary. i mean, come on.........if you were a priest, wouldn't you rather just go somewhere and have a beer?
i don't know how priests sit still through it all. they must not have ADHD.
maybe it's a requirement that priests can't have ADHD and if they do, they have to confess it and they can't be priests. i mean, it would make sense, right? how can you have ADHD and sit through confession?
i don't know about you, but i can't think of too many worse ways to spend a couple of hours than listening to some moron tell you that he argued with his boss, yelled at his wife, played solitaire at work, lied on his facebook profile, and shorted the collection plate 5 bucks. if i were a priest, i'd be like, can't anybody commit a good murder or two?
i mean, really. if you were a priest, wouldn't you sorta be secretly hoping that at least one or two of your parishoners would fall seriously short of the glory? i mean, you wouldn't want too many of them to fall short - cuz that would make you look bad - but come on.........you mean to tell me that you really and truly wouldn't one or two of them to kill somebody? i know i would.
it's a real bind, i tell ya. on the one hand, you're supposed to want everybody to get to heaven and on the other, you're bored outa your mind.
i think the not having sex part would be cake compared to this.
whenever i see a kid go into the confessional, i'm like, that poor, poor priest. he's gotta hear a bunch of crap about how the kid pulled his sister's hair and stole her diary. i mean, come on.........if you were a priest, wouldn't you rather just go somewhere and have a beer?
i don't know how priests sit still through it all. they must not have ADHD.
maybe it's a requirement that priests can't have ADHD and if they do, they have to confess it and they can't be priests. i mean, it would make sense, right? how can you have ADHD and sit through confession?
i don't know about you, but i can't think of too many worse ways to spend a couple of hours than listening to some moron tell you that he argued with his boss, yelled at his wife, played solitaire at work, lied on his facebook profile, and shorted the collection plate 5 bucks. if i were a priest, i'd be like, can't anybody commit a good murder or two?
i mean, really. if you were a priest, wouldn't you sorta be secretly hoping that at least one or two of your parishoners would fall seriously short of the glory? i mean, you wouldn't want too many of them to fall short - cuz that would make you look bad - but come on.........you mean to tell me that you really and truly wouldn't one or two of them to kill somebody? i know i would.
it's a real bind, i tell ya. on the one hand, you're supposed to want everybody to get to heaven and on the other, you're bored outa your mind.
i think the not having sex part would be cake compared to this.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
what's so super about it?
so, the super bowl is this weekend and i, for one, couldn't give a rat's hoo-ha.
i do happen to know who's playing (the game) this year, and that, right there, is a miracle.
i don't know who's playing (at the half) and that, too, is a miracle because the only thing i usually know about the super bowl is who's playing at the half. (who's playing at the half?)
for someone who doesn't give a rat's hoo-ha about the super bowl, it's kind of ironic that i have actually been to a super bowl.
i forget what year (rat's hoo-ha). i forget which teams (rat's hoo-ha). i remember it was somewhere in michigan at some kind of dome. the pontiac dome? is there a pontiac dome? (rat's hoo-ha).
anyway, david (my first husband) and i went to the super bowl in whatever year that was and with whatever teams were playing and in whatever stadium it was in. the only thing i really remember is the snow.
it snowed like a gazillion pounds of snow. it was incredible.
after the game, we went to our hotel. the electricity went out sometime in the night and by morning, we were frozen. we could see our breath in the hotel room. no bueno.
so, despite the fact that it was snowing like a gazillion pounds of snow, we decided - ok, fine.......let's get it out of the way right off the bat......we decided - stupidly - to hop in the car and drive home.
hop in the car and drive home, my foot.
we got about 20 miles down the highway when suddenly, the wind whipped up so bad that it was a 100%, i am not kidding you, total white-out. i mean, total.
and then, suddenly, we crashed into the back of........ something.
we had no idea what.
we hopped out of the car and fell face first into a gazillion pounds of snow.
we got back up.
we fell back down.
we got back up.
i fell back down.
we looked at the front of the car and realized that, for all intents and purposes, it was gone. gone. and thanks to the 100%, i am not kidding you, total white-out, we had no clue what we had hit.
how we got out of that car without a single scratch on either of us, to this day, i do not know. the front end of our car was gone. it was gone.
now, lemme tell you somethin' that you might not know: it is beyond surreal to a.) go to a super bowl when you don't give a rat's hoo-ha about the super bowl and then, b.) drive home from the super bowl that you don't give a rat's hoo-ha about and hit something that should have killed you only it didn't and not only did it not kill you, you don't even know what it was.
believe me.......it is beyond surreal.
anyway......so, what did we do? we did the only thing you could do in those pre-cell phone era days.....we got back in the car (which was much smaller than before) and waited. we waited. what else could we do?
fortunately, we didn't wait long. pretty soon, along comes a highway patrol guy which, that's not as coincidental as it might sound because, come on now, who in their right mind is out on the highway in a 100%, i am not kidding you, total white out except for the highway patrol guys? and the snow plow guys? (well, and david and i.)
so, anyway, the highway patrol guy comes along and he tells us that he's pretty sure we hit a snow plow because the snow plow guy just radioed the highway patrol guy and told him that something or somebody just slammed into his rear end but since it's a 100%, i am not kidding you, total white-out, he couldn't see what (who) it was. but the highway patrol guy was pretty sure it was us.
and it was. (we later confirmed that by a number of factors, not the least of which was the yellow paint all over the front of the car. which was gone.)
anyway......long story short (i know, i know)......long story short, we ended up driving in the highway patrol guy's car to a truck stop about 5 miles down the road. the highway patrol guy radioed to have our car towed to the same truck stop. by this time, it's about freaking midnight. (well, not really. it was about freaking noon. but it felt like freaking midnight.)
and since the gazillion pounds of snow were still coming down - and by now, we're about up to three gazillion pounds of snow - we had no choice but to sit it out in the truck stop. which was pretty bad because the coffee was great but the bathrooms were horrible. if you get my drift.
anyway.....we actually ended up spending the night in that lousy, stinkin' truck stop. we tried sleeping in one of the booths in the restaurant part of the truck stop. lemme tell you somethin' you might not know: you haven't lived, and by "lived," i mean "died," until you have tried to sleep in one of the booths in the restaurant part of a truck stop. if you get my drift.
(speaking of drifts, there were about a gazillion pounds of those, too).
but, all's well that ends well, as they say......we got up the next morning and we were greeted with two surprises......one, the gazillion pounds (or three or four) of snow had stopped falling and two, our car, miracle of miracles, was drive-able. not pretty, but drive-able. so, away we went.
we got home about 8 hours later. the whole trip - from the hotel to our house - should have taken about 4. instead, it took like forever.
but, we got home and we were safe and sound and warm and ready for some good food and a nice nap.
"safe and sound and warm and ready for some good food and a nice nap." - yep. that's what's so super about it.
i do happen to know who's playing (the game) this year, and that, right there, is a miracle.
i don't know who's playing (at the half) and that, too, is a miracle because the only thing i usually know about the super bowl is who's playing at the half. (who's playing at the half?)
for someone who doesn't give a rat's hoo-ha about the super bowl, it's kind of ironic that i have actually been to a super bowl.
i forget what year (rat's hoo-ha). i forget which teams (rat's hoo-ha). i remember it was somewhere in michigan at some kind of dome. the pontiac dome? is there a pontiac dome? (rat's hoo-ha).
anyway, david (my first husband) and i went to the super bowl in whatever year that was and with whatever teams were playing and in whatever stadium it was in. the only thing i really remember is the snow.
it snowed like a gazillion pounds of snow. it was incredible.
after the game, we went to our hotel. the electricity went out sometime in the night and by morning, we were frozen. we could see our breath in the hotel room. no bueno.
so, despite the fact that it was snowing like a gazillion pounds of snow, we decided - ok, fine.......let's get it out of the way right off the bat......we decided - stupidly - to hop in the car and drive home.
hop in the car and drive home, my foot.
we got about 20 miles down the highway when suddenly, the wind whipped up so bad that it was a 100%, i am not kidding you, total white-out. i mean, total.
and then, suddenly, we crashed into the back of........ something.
we had no idea what.
we hopped out of the car and fell face first into a gazillion pounds of snow.
we got back up.
we fell back down.
we got back up.
i fell back down.
we looked at the front of the car and realized that, for all intents and purposes, it was gone. gone. and thanks to the 100%, i am not kidding you, total white-out, we had no clue what we had hit.
how we got out of that car without a single scratch on either of us, to this day, i do not know. the front end of our car was gone. it was gone.
now, lemme tell you somethin' that you might not know: it is beyond surreal to a.) go to a super bowl when you don't give a rat's hoo-ha about the super bowl and then, b.) drive home from the super bowl that you don't give a rat's hoo-ha about and hit something that should have killed you only it didn't and not only did it not kill you, you don't even know what it was.
believe me.......it is beyond surreal.
anyway......so, what did we do? we did the only thing you could do in those pre-cell phone era days.....we got back in the car (which was much smaller than before) and waited. we waited. what else could we do?
fortunately, we didn't wait long. pretty soon, along comes a highway patrol guy which, that's not as coincidental as it might sound because, come on now, who in their right mind is out on the highway in a 100%, i am not kidding you, total white out except for the highway patrol guys? and the snow plow guys? (well, and david and i.)
so, anyway, the highway patrol guy comes along and he tells us that he's pretty sure we hit a snow plow because the snow plow guy just radioed the highway patrol guy and told him that something or somebody just slammed into his rear end but since it's a 100%, i am not kidding you, total white-out, he couldn't see what (who) it was. but the highway patrol guy was pretty sure it was us.
and it was. (we later confirmed that by a number of factors, not the least of which was the yellow paint all over the front of the car. which was gone.)
anyway......long story short (i know, i know)......long story short, we ended up driving in the highway patrol guy's car to a truck stop about 5 miles down the road. the highway patrol guy radioed to have our car towed to the same truck stop. by this time, it's about freaking midnight. (well, not really. it was about freaking noon. but it felt like freaking midnight.)
and since the gazillion pounds of snow were still coming down - and by now, we're about up to three gazillion pounds of snow - we had no choice but to sit it out in the truck stop. which was pretty bad because the coffee was great but the bathrooms were horrible. if you get my drift.
anyway.....we actually ended up spending the night in that lousy, stinkin' truck stop. we tried sleeping in one of the booths in the restaurant part of the truck stop. lemme tell you somethin' you might not know: you haven't lived, and by "lived," i mean "died," until you have tried to sleep in one of the booths in the restaurant part of a truck stop. if you get my drift.
(speaking of drifts, there were about a gazillion pounds of those, too).
but, all's well that ends well, as they say......we got up the next morning and we were greeted with two surprises......one, the gazillion pounds (or three or four) of snow had stopped falling and two, our car, miracle of miracles, was drive-able. not pretty, but drive-able. so, away we went.
we got home about 8 hours later. the whole trip - from the hotel to our house - should have taken about 4. instead, it took like forever.
but, we got home and we were safe and sound and warm and ready for some good food and a nice nap.
"safe and sound and warm and ready for some good food and a nice nap." - yep. that's what's so super about it.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
i've only been working for 23 days and so far, i've had 3 of them off.
i think i picked the right job, don't you?
the first day off was martin luther king day which, sidebar here, don't you think it would be more of an honor to martin luther king if the schools were open instead of closed on martin luther king day? and the kids talked about and studied about martin luther king all day long? how does playing video games all day long honor martin luther king?
but, anyway. the first day off was martin luther king day which, sidebar here, how did me staying home and baking cookies honor martin luther king?
but, anyway.
so, i stayed home on martin luther king day and then i stayed home yesterday and the day before that because of the weather. add all that up and that's 3 days that i have already not worked at this new job of mine. i love this new job of mine.
but, while we're on the subject of weather, it drives me nuts how i have never worked anywhere where they don't sort of look down on you for not coming in due to the weather. even if they don't come in due to the weather!
every place i have ever worked has this sort of unspoken hostility - it can range from mild to flat-out overt - toward people who get stuck in their driveway. if you get stuck in your driveway and you fall down and hurt your back, they just think you're flat-out lyin.'
i worked at a place once where, it didn't matter what the reason, if you were late, you had to either make up the time - in double the amount - somewhere during that pay period or you "were permitted" to take vacation time - in double the amount of the time that you were late.one chick who worked there was 4 hours late once, because of an insane blizzard with something like 20 feet of snow. of course she didn't call off......the boss would have seethed at her with crucifying hostility if she had......and so she ended up at work - 4 hours late - and chose to take 8 hours vacation time. i'm sure none of that was even legal.
anyway. i have to go back to work today, but i don't have to take double vacation time.
i love my job.
the first day off was martin luther king day which, sidebar here, don't you think it would be more of an honor to martin luther king if the schools were open instead of closed on martin luther king day? and the kids talked about and studied about martin luther king all day long? how does playing video games all day long honor martin luther king?
but, anyway. the first day off was martin luther king day which, sidebar here, how did me staying home and baking cookies honor martin luther king?
but, anyway.
so, i stayed home on martin luther king day and then i stayed home yesterday and the day before that because of the weather. add all that up and that's 3 days that i have already not worked at this new job of mine. i love this new job of mine.
but, while we're on the subject of weather, it drives me nuts how i have never worked anywhere where they don't sort of look down on you for not coming in due to the weather. even if they don't come in due to the weather!
every place i have ever worked has this sort of unspoken hostility - it can range from mild to flat-out overt - toward people who get stuck in their driveway. if you get stuck in your driveway and you fall down and hurt your back, they just think you're flat-out lyin.'
i worked at a place once where, it didn't matter what the reason, if you were late, you had to either make up the time - in double the amount - somewhere during that pay period or you "were permitted" to take vacation time - in double the amount of the time that you were late.one chick who worked there was 4 hours late once, because of an insane blizzard with something like 20 feet of snow. of course she didn't call off......the boss would have seethed at her with crucifying hostility if she had......and so she ended up at work - 4 hours late - and chose to take 8 hours vacation time. i'm sure none of that was even legal.
anyway. i have to go back to work today, but i don't have to take double vacation time.
i love my job.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
"snow, snow, i love you so, ice, ice, you're twice as nice, sun, sun, this rhyme is done."
i'm insane about weather. bad weather. i love it. what's wrong with me? right?
probably what's wrong with me is that at the very heart of it, i'm a lazy, no good, lousy, stinkin' slob. and bad weather lets me hide behind it.
bad weather doesn't ask much of you. it asks you to stay in your jammies and eat french toast.
it asks you to say, in your most pitiful voice, "kind sir, would you mind shoveling my walk for me? i'd do it myself, but i've got the bursitis, you know."
bad weather asks you to turn on "the price is right" and let it morph into "the young and the restless."
what it doesn't ask you is even better......
it doesn't ask you to put on your shorts, expose your fat thighs, and go play softball, which you're no good at.
bad weather doesn't ask you to water ski........in a bath-ing suit.
it doesn't ask you to mow the lawn or set up the croquet course or set up the badminton net.
it doesn't ask you to sweat.
but of all the things that bad weather asks and doesn't ask of you, not asking you to go to work is the best. try askin' a sunny july day not to ask you that.
the other thing is, bad weather is pretty. beautiful, even. you know how people always say, in the month of june, what a beautiful day we're havin'? i'm always tempted to answer them with, beautiful? beautiful? have you taken a look at your thighs in those shorts?
probably what's wrong with me is that at the very heart of it, i'm a lazy, no good, lousy, stinkin' slob. and bad weather lets me hide behind it.
bad weather doesn't ask much of you. it asks you to stay in your jammies and eat french toast.
it asks you to say, in your most pitiful voice, "kind sir, would you mind shoveling my walk for me? i'd do it myself, but i've got the bursitis, you know."
bad weather asks you to turn on "the price is right" and let it morph into "the young and the restless."
what it doesn't ask you is even better......
it doesn't ask you to put on your shorts, expose your fat thighs, and go play softball, which you're no good at.
bad weather doesn't ask you to water ski........in a bath-ing suit.
it doesn't ask you to mow the lawn or set up the croquet course or set up the badminton net.
it doesn't ask you to sweat.
but of all the things that bad weather asks and doesn't ask of you, not asking you to go to work is the best. try askin' a sunny july day not to ask you that.
the other thing is, bad weather is pretty. beautiful, even. you know how people always say, in the month of june, what a beautiful day we're havin'? i'm always tempted to answer them with, beautiful? beautiful? have you taken a look at your thighs in those shorts?
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