Give Me the Cheeseburger and No One Gets Hurt...

How much does a McDonalds's cheeseburger cost? The menu says $.99, but you might have to pay some dignity, too.
I was wearing a tie yesterday. That's not entirely unusual for me. I bought it at a thrift store; it's incredibly retro and looks like something Mike Brady might have worn to a business meeting. Other than the tie, my clothing was, I thought, perfectly in sync with the supertrends of the day: white shirt, blue jeans, flip-flops and a military-style hat.
I was going through the drive-thru at McDonalds with Vanessa. As I handed our money to the blonde, blue-eyed, braced cashier, she notices my outfit. "So is it dress-up day or something?"
"No," I replied. "I just have a weird sense of style."
She stared at me with a blank expression, smiling. Braces, blank staring, smiling. It was weird. And it wasn't the only comment I got on the tie. Maybe Mike Brady should stay in the 70's.
Dress-up day? Psssh.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment with my trauma therapist.

Eh...

I think I'm taking an inadvertant hiatus from blogging again.
My life is really busy right now, but it's not bloggably busy.
I'll be back eventually, though...and hopefully before Fibonacci.

Assumptions

An assertive, middle-aged blonde lady came into work early this week and wanted to know something about our Halloween product. As I was answering her question, she was interupted by a phone call. This is what I heard:

"Hello?
(listens)
What? She gave birth? We have a baby?
(listens)
It's a bit early, isn't it?
(listens)
Girl or boy?
(listens)
Is mom okay?
(listens)
Well is she okay?
(listens)
Is the umbilical chord still wrapped around her head?
(listens)
How tall is she?
(listens)
What does she weigh?
(listens)
What color is she--black? Or white, or pinkorpurple...
(listens)
Are you sure she's okay?"

The color question confused me by the sheer confidence with which it was delivered, but I assumed she was conversing about a human infant until she asked, in clear reference to said infant:

"Is she standing up okay, or falling over?"

Turns out there is what I gather to be a new calf in the family. When the lady was paying, she mentioned something about "raising albino."

...Black and pink albino?

Leaking

Our washing machine is slowly filling with water. I can hear the drip...drip...drip... as I type.

Breakin' the Rules

Kari and Lil' K came over on Friday. In the evening, we raided my mom's old 80's clothes and, looking hot, learned to breakdance. That's right, in Nappy D fashion (pun inteneded), we grooved it up in the living room, dancing in front of the telly; the instructor on the tape was a star in the 1984 movie Breakin, which I had never heard of before.









And oh, we did look hot:















The Autodaughters came over for a Labour Day BBQ and croquet. As they didn't arrive until past 5 in the evening, we didn't get around to playing croquet until just before 8 o'clock. The teams were much diminished compared to the usual groups, but two on two worked out to be just as fun, and in retrospect, it's probably good there were less people playing as it was dark by the time we finished anyway, and more people would have prolonged much later. Although my cousin Jon and his friend set up the course, the left before playing; it was a crappy course, but we added some interest by teeing up from unexpected locations such as fence posts, gashes in the sidewalk, the top of the fire hydrant, and such. By the last wicket, we had to use a tap-light and flashlight. Our continuously flickering streetlight didn't shine too much light on the subject but did add some comic relief from the intensity of the competition.

Aunt Bee made some sort of an eggplant/pasta concoction this evening. The aforementioned plant rather tasted like plum-textured mushroom, but it was interesting. Perhaps my tastebuds, once accustomed to the foreign flavor, would appreciate it on a second try.

I haven't been out to spectate & support at too many school games this year due to schedule conflicts; however, I did get over to a volleyball game on Teusday, and they beat our cross-town rival, which was good. Hopefully I'll be able to attend the football game this weekend.

To justify my copmlete lack of skill and understanding and patience, I, future Philosopher Queen of the World, declare that math is biased against right-brained people, and should not be forced upon said people due to the trauma it causes. Proof* of my right braineditude:

You Are 40% Left Brained, 60% Right Brained

The left side of your brain controls verbal ability, attention to detail, and reasoning. Left brained people are good at communication and persuading others. If you're left brained, you are likely good at math and logic. Your left brain prefers dogs, reading, and quiet. The right side of your brain is all about creativity and flexibility. Daring and intuitive, right brained people see the world in their unique way. If you're right brained, you likely have a talent for creative writing and art. Your right brain prefers day dreaming, philosophy, and sports.

Are You Right or Left Brained?

*Do not suppose thyself so smart as to argue with the Internet, fool!
(Editor's note: Eh, forgive the random Shakespearean Mr. T moment. Eggplant messes with the right-brained mind.)

Spilled Coffee

We had an eight o'clock meeting for work Saturday morning, after I had spent Friday night at the drive-in. My co-worker, Pam, had been there, too, and had stayed out hours later than me. That made for an interesting nine-hour workday. Late in the morning, as we were discussing the managers' desire to find an older, experienced salesperson to hire, I decided to play devil's advocate: "Teenagers can be just as competant as adults,*" I argued, my knee kicking a box full of coffee lids, flinging its contents to the floor and Pam and I into laughter just as a customer walked in.


It is, after all, an ironic universe.


*Notice I say can be.

Still Breathing

Just not typing.

I (heart) technology...or do I?

I am sitting inside four walls with three computers and two other humans, typing to both of them and a couple others. There is little actual interaction occuring.

Type, tap, type is the only sound, with brief occasional pauses.

Welcome to the 21st Century...

Anniversary of...Something

You know it's the 21st Century when you consider your first blogging anniversary to be a day of significance (it's on the 25th, by the way), but it is as good a time as any to consider the implications of blogging.
In an act of blatant self-promotion (well, kinda), I shall quote from a post I made on my short-lived msn Spaces blog back in November:

"Blogs are strange things. Yes, I know, just as blogs are in style, writing extensive essays about them is also chic. But I really am fascinated, and not just in the cultural, global trend, but in how it has affected me personally. A few months ago, I wrote in my diaries (of which I have several) daily, nearly constantly, and penned lyrics to songs almost daily. However, once I started blogging regularly, I have noticed my journalling has decreased immensely, and it is rare that I pick up a notebook and start recording my thoughts...I spend less time in introverted contemplation and focused prayer and more time typing about life in general. It's a negative effect, and one that I don't take lightly..."

Somewhere along the electronic path of this blogging journey (about a month ago), I came to a crossroads, and I chose a different direction. See, blogging is a nice outlet, it's a good space for creativity; it can be inspiring, productive, humorous, or theraputic. There's a lot you can learn from it, reading different perspectives and joining a global community. But there's also a danger in letting it--and/or the Internet in general--distract you, or losing part of yourself by sharing so much, or relying on pseudofriendships instead of living in the real world.

Granted, this isn't a tragedy. All you have to do is step away from the computer, take some time for yourself, friends and family. It's not hard for me to spend time away from technology as I really don't employ it extensively in my daily life. I don't watch much telelvision, don't own a cell phone, blackberry, mp3 player, or iPod, play video and/or online games.

The internet in itself holds little attraction to me. It's mostly the people factor. I like communicating with friends, reading different perspectives, living vicariously through people all over the world, etc. But when you depend on technology to sustain friendships, or isolate yourself from real experiences, your quality of life is going to be damaged. You can learn, but not experience, vicariously. And without experience, knowledge is useless.

(Editor's Note: Three weeks ago, when I first wrote this post, I intended on adding to it, discuss the repercussions of technology, blah blah blah. However, I lost interest and Prairie Home Companion is on the radio, so my unfinished thoughts will have to do....)

Crunch Time

I've been studying for my SAT's this week (a bit late, but that's my life as a procrastinator), as I will be taking the test on Saturday, bright and bloody early. My friend (whoa, the Vanessa I mentioned in the last post...*hums theme to the Twilight Zone*) lent me a book to teach this ignorant highschooler how to outsmart the system. (: Push came to shove today and I took one of the practice tests, and the results...could have been better. They were very, eh, average. I was expecting low math scores, but Critical Reading was not even what I anticipated. Looking through the solutions manual, I figured out my biggest problems (like, say, rushing through the questions, even when I had that feeling I wasn't doing it quite right), and they are, thankfully, remediable, even within thirty-six hours.
Even though I will no doubt have cardiac arrest from anxiety on Saturday morning, I'm actually not too worried right now. I'm not planning on this being my only go at the test; I plan to work through some math in the summer and hope to improve on whatever foundation I lay this weekend. With college scholarships on the line, I'll have to make a good showing.
I've never liked what I view to be the very subjective questions of the Critical Reading section. I realize they know what they're testing, but it still seems, shall we say, idiosyncratic. Now that's a good word. One thing I found humorous, though, while reviewing my mistakes, was the repetitive advice not to choose "negative" answers. Translation: Anything that contains any hint of political incorrectness is NOT the answer EST is looking for. LOL...

Windows

My church does a ministry at a local nursing home, singing old hymns & revival songs, as well as sometimes giving a sermon; this afternoon we went and did an afternoon service, and a lady who I had seen meandering about in her PVC-piped-wheelchair contraption joined us for, as far as I can remember, the first time. She didn't say much and chose to stand, pacing slowly and maneuvering around in spaces much too small for her wheeled-pipe seat, getting stuck between a particular couch and coffe table several times before someone moved it for her convenience, even forcing one man to put his feet on the couch to avoid conflict. Eccentric and distracted don't quite cover this lady's behavior. She finally rolled over right in front of where I was sitting on a couch next to my madre and sat down, silently facing me while we sang, staring...staring...staring. We've met enough old timers whose minds are a bit, eh, incomplete, so this wasn't entirely shocking, though slightly uncomforatble; still, I could handle this. I smiled and looked at the hymnal in my lap.

I should have kept looking down. But there's something rather unnerving about having a silent, white-haired lady staring at you as you sing (and not very well), so I glanced up, and she's still staring, but then her eyes start to roll back into her head, and I'm like, oh dear, but then her eyes snap forward and she's staring again--staring, never blinking. So I force a half-hearted smile and look back to my hymnal. Well, I looked back a few times, each time to find her eyes staring, then loosing focus, rolling back, and snapping forward again. This happens several times, disconcerting me, the cycle only varying occasionally with her rocking back and forth.

It was in the third song, Revive Us Again, she slowly, ponderously, reaches out her hand toward me, staring, staring...

..All glory and praise
To the Lamb that was slain,
Who hath borne all our sins,
And hath cleansed every stain...

She's reaching and freaking me out, her eyes never wavering or blinking, and I'm considering contacting an exorcist, but my madre rescues me from my uncertainty by taking her hand, smiling sweetly, and trying to listen to the lady's words, which are hopelessly jarbbled by the music, sounding very much like an incantaion of sorts. So they just sit there, holding hands for a minute, then she lets go and reverts to staring. Anyway, she reaches out again, my mom takes her hand, and this time uses my madre's hand to help pull herself up, resuming her pacing until, eventually, a path is made wide enough between the abundant wheelchairs to grant her escape.

On later discussion, mom and I decided she was probably havingsome sort of seizure. There was something decidedly disconcerting about her eyes, though, alternately present and absent, piercing and lost.

Oh, how I never want to grow old.

Singing, er, spinning in the rain...

It's a fun thing to do, especially when the neighbor kids are out in it, too. So they're in, like, third grade. What's your point?

(Yeah, you wish you were cool enough to spin in the rain. I know, and it's understandable. I'd be jealous of me, too.)

S-N-O-W

Well, forget spring. I woke up to about an inch of snow today. It's mostly melted now, but the weather is still frigid. If it doesn't heat up soon, I shall be moving to Florida. Bring on the hurricanes. At least it will be warm. I might go picture crazy again today and post some snowy photogs. We shall see...

Well...

It was a looong Saturday (thus all the pictures), but a beautiful one:
















Even though traces of fall remain...

















Spring is in the earth, if not in the air...

Tomatoes and Medals

I generally don't have much appreciation for sports of any kind on TV, but I like the Olympics. Really like the Olympics. Mostly because of gymnastics in the summer and figure skating in the winter. My interests in the Olympics have branched out since then, and I enjoy watching most of the primetime events. When I was a (younger) kid, I had these pastel pink unicorn slippers that I would don and slide around on the kitchen floor, pretending I was an elegant skater, and I liked to imagine how I would choreograph songs on the radio.

Concerning real skating, however, my favour (hey, what better time than the Olympics to enjoy multiculturalism?) is shifting to the East. I've always liked the Russians. I liked the couple that won (along with the Canadians) in Salt Lake. But, honestly, I haven't been too impressed by their showing this year. The Chinese couple, Zhang & Zhang, that took silver were, in my opinion, better skaters than the Russians, Totmianina & Marinin, even though they had a fall. Their choreography was timely and artistic, whearas the Russians were more like machines, albethem, grantedly, elegant machines. I realize, of course, I have untrained eyes and there were probably many technicalities that I failed to notice. Still, as far as I'm concerned, the Zhangs quite golden.

I didn't see the beginning of the men's short program, but Plushenko must have had one outstanding performance to have such an impressive lead. I'll be interested to see the finale tonight.

Hmmm. I wonder if "albethem" is actually a word?

Upswing?

I finally think I'm getting better. There are longer intervals between coughing spasms and nose-blowings. I can only taste fruits, come vegetables, meats, bread, and chocolate, due to my congested allergies, and cough syrup is suprisingly delicious. Dairy products, potatoes, and sauces like mayonaise are fairly bland or flavorless, and cereal has taken on a new dimension. It's rather fun tasting things, actually, just to see how different it all is.
My friend Kari has been sick this week as well, and she actually had a reaction to some medication and had to go to the doctor for hives. Her mom was sick first, then her sister caught the illness (her fever peaked at 105!), then Kari, and now her dad is thinking he's catching it. It looks like the same thing will be happening here, since my dad has a sore throat now.

Sick and Tired

Well, I'm running a low fever and seem to have developed a fairly substantial cough overnight. So what did I manage to do with my afternoon? Well, after doing some school, I wandered about the world wide web for a while, but wasn't feeling too enthused about anything and nearly fell asleep. Since there are about 45 pictures I want to develope and scrapbook, I decided to organize and transfer them to a CD to take into Walgreens (I have yet to try the online route). Unable to access the photos in the program I usually use, I started rumaging around all our various software and found what I thought was the right program; it wasn't, but I discovered it's possible to turn photos into a "memory disk," a simple, slide-show-like DVD. What's amazing about all this is that I am capable of doing so without assistance. I used the program to make a capsule of our basketball season, which was fun. I was fairly impressed with myself, really, as I tend to be quite technologically challenged. Next, I plan to experiment with captions, images other than photos, and music other than the options offered.

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jape (v. to say or do something jokingly or mockingly)

Mumblings...

You would think after my posting drought, I would have a lot to talk about. But I don't. So I may just ramble about a lot of superfluous nothing....

There's something wrong with my hands. The skin, specifically. Occasionally (I've never tracked exactly how often or consistant it is), the back of my hands get especially dry with a reddish rash in accompaniment, and I'm currently having a flair up. The problem is that I'm not sure what is flaring up. I'm nearly certain it isn't eczema, as I've never had a problem with it itching and it doesn't quite resemble the pictures I've seen. I don't think it's getting worse, but it has sort of moved; it used to be more toward the base of my thumb and lower knuckles, and while it still affects the knuckles, it's centering on my lower hand and upper wrist now. Sometimes the skin is hot to the touch. Perhaps I should have a physician look at it sometime, but so far, I can generally "cure" it with lotion in the space of a few days. Actually, I'm thinking the rash a reaction to chemicals or...something. When I peel potatoes, it makes it worse. When I wash my hands a lot, it makes it worse. Actually, I think it's the towels I use after I wash my hands that worsens it. But I could be dillusional, as well. When I wash the dishes, it makes it worse. Is anyone else is seeing the connection in all these instances? Indeed. I must be H2O intolerant. Should've known it was that confounded dihydrogen monoxide.

As long as I'm discussing mysterious ailments, I should mention my ears. Occasionally (that dreaded word again) during basketball practices in the last two years, I've noticed my ears "plug up," just like when one is driving in a car and the change of elevation affects one's sense of hearing. It isn't constant or chronic or what have you, but it's rebarbative when it does occur. Anyway, I have this same problem when I'm sick sometimes, or about to be sick. Like now, for instance. I've been fighting that wretched flu my mother had ever since she had it, and I currently am having the hint of a sore throat and the ear issue. Yawning helps, but usually only for a few seconds.

Well, I'm certainly setting myself up as a querulous sort, aren't I? Really, though, other than weird health issues, life has been going well. With basketball over, I've been concentrating on school more. I really need to turn my attention to my room, which is a distaster. A huge disaster. Still. Right now, though, I think I'm going to go to sleep. So fare thee well, faithful readers.

Things that go Bump

We had our end-of-the-season all-nighter last night, scrimmaging after the guys' game (which was a fantastic win, I might add), playing several rounds of bump, and crashing at the coaches' house afterwards. Staci kept us up until nearly 3 a.m. retelling all her midget-clown urban legends (yes, she has an actual fear of maniacal midgets dressed as clowns), but we got up this morning to play Uno Attack. We have our last game Monday, then nothing until June when we do league play. *sighs* I'm deciding whether I want to bowl or see Glory Road for my birthday, which I still haven't celebrated. We shall see...

New Calendars! Yay!

I spent most of the afternoon trying to clean and rearrange and organize my bedchamber (that's an underrated term) while purging the aforementioned room of unnecessary clutter. Heh, you should see it now. It looks like a tornado went on a wild rampage--a very long and wild rampage. I'm trying to eliminate a dresser to make room for the keyboard and find a place for where I can actually use that old typewriter, and it's quite a process. Ironically, most of the stuff on the floor is paper with a few decorative items, such as the picture frames I'm attempting to relocate, mixed in. So I think I may be sleeping on the couch tonight. The uncomfortable couch, since the comfy one is occupied.


*Sighs mournfully* It is, indeed, a day of sorrow, sentiment, and grief. For on this day, I can no longer use my Dr. Seuss 2005 Calendar. It was such a fun calendar, too. But, I do have two new ones to find room for, a 365-day cat themed desk calendar as well as a hanging, (big surprise) cat-themed twelve-monther. So I shouldn't have much trouble keeping track of the days. (: