It's Oddly Freeing

Friday at work I wore a dainty little pair of silver horns all day. Everyone received a memo encouragign us to wear Halloween gear but I was the only one to actually show up in anything resembling a costume. When asked if I was a devil, I replied that my horns weren't red but silver. I was mostly likely an imp.

It was oddly freeing spending the entire day with little silver horns on your head. I recommend it.

Tonight I'm watching the original, silent Nosferatu and The Phantom of the Opera. Not the original originals, mind, just a DVD I picked up at Target.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Nanowrimo Checklist:

My desk is clean.
Pens gathered neatly in my Mind The Gap cup.
The kitchen is sparkling...no distraction there.
All the ironing is done. Not a wrinkle in the closet.
Giganitc container of hot coco mix.
Big bowl filled with Nanowrimo...I mean Halloween candy.
Calculator at hand for counting and recounting the daily word totals.
Notebook for quickly scribling flashes of inspiration.
TV remote is hidden and the batteries removed.

Nothing left to do but write.

Clare has her own Nanowrimo blog for keeping us abreast of the lasted developements and word counts. I'll just use thie forum here.

I'm Jenny's Hero

The continuing saga of mean sister unfolded with the witty replies of Heidi and Nico:

10/27/2004 2:56:03 PM heidi (www) said:
Well mannered...hmmm typically speaking when introduced to another person, you would say hi, nice to meet you and shake hands, not just sit in a chair and continue to watch T.V..

10/27/2004 3:20:59 PM nico (www) said:
Gotta go with Heidi here. Cultured includes being polite and kind to the people you don't like, as well as to the people you do. I think what the blog that's quoted above meant to say is that it's pretentious for one person to assume that the world revolves around her or him. And there are always two sides to a story. It is pretentious to take sides if you've heard only one.As for other comments: this is clearly cliche, but those in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. Specifically, it's
prententious to criticize the grammar of others unless you use the language perfectly. Have I used the word "pretentious" enough?

To which I replied:

10/27/2004 6:44:37 PM Liarbyrd (www) said:
The point is that neither of you, Heidi and Nico, are upset that you hurt your sister's feelings and made her cry. All you can fixate on is some offense in the distant past and and continue to exact revenge despite the fact that both of you are grown women. And then use Jenny's friend's behaviour as justification for the continued torment of Jenny. Grown women don't make their sister cry for shits and giggles: spoiled brats do.

Yes, I AM very prententious. I don't try to deny it. But I do string together a coherent sentence and I think grammatically I'm all that, barring the odd typo. BTW, I wasn't critizing grammar, it was content. CONTENT. You know, content, what fills up an empty void with substance.

Meanwhile, Jenny called to tell me that I'm her hero. Cool. Good feelings all around.

Evil little sisters

Tonight's blog was nearly about my nearly seeing President Clinton and nearly metting Al Sharpton. Nearly. Both events did not occur because I decided not to take the day off work and stand around in Centre City for a politcial rally (but it would have been so cool!). And the Reverend Sharpton cancelled his rally in Germantown today, in Vernon Park. See, won't take off work to see Clinton but will skip out for a few hours when the event is just outside my window. I have a usually trouble free view of Vernon Park.

Instead it's about Jenny's very sad message waiting for me on my aswering machine, the innane blog her lil' sister wrote, the mysterious reason her big sister was "busted", and how cruel sisters can be.

The message: In a nutshell, her lil' sis humiliated her in front of the sister's friend. Jenny is furious and depressed because that is shit twelve year old do, not grown adults, and really wishes it wouldn't get her as upset as it does.

Lil' sis wrote:

Huge question in life is what DOES matter? What do you LET yourself bother you?
I'm a firm believer no one can make you feel less than you are if YOU don't let
them. Period. Simple as that.
Words are a powerful thing. I know I am over
the top at times, but I think I surround myself with those that can take it
without getting an internal urge to scream and scratch and hit and bite.

Jenny wanted me to read the blog, so I assume ther must be some special meaning to it rather than a pretensious showing of tired cliches and platitudes.

I'm not one to belittle another person's writing...Oh, wait. I am one to belittle aother's writing. As I commented in Jenny's blog, "What do you let yourself bother you?"? What the hell?!!! And it's not the people who have the internal urges to scream and kick the crap out of you, it's the big and nasty external fists flying at you that you really should worry about.

Jenny's sisters are mean to her. Mean. And not just snipey things behind her back, but flat out rude and mean in her face. So mean that I wish I was a bit less civil and could just punched 'em. Oh, and they seem to thrive on an audience. When I first met lil' sis, she gave me two good reasons why Jenny shouldn't be my friend. Such as not passing her driving test and something else trivial I can not remember right now. Do nice people try to sabotague their sister's friendships? Or belittle them infront of their own friends?

Of course, I'm far fom polite to them. Granted, I don't smile and pretend I did not notice them tear down their sister and one of my best friends. They don't like me much. Apparently I was "rude" at some point in the distant past. Now, mind you, this could be my natural social grace and charms. Meaning that I have none: I tend to be blunt and blurt out the first thing that comes into my head. Some can find this lack of refinement rude. Fine. Next time I'll go out of my way to be rude.

Jenny is by far the most talented writer I've had the pleasure of reading, let alone knowing. Her sisters are a pair of wicked bitches only rivaled by the darkest of fairtales. And fairytales always tend to have a nasty ending.

Mean sisters suck.

Clare's prezzie

Did a little Chrimbo shopping for the Clare. Got something really great, wrapped it carefully in two pastic bags and put it in the closet for safe keeping. Doesn't that cat Hrothgar immediately jump into the closet and start rubbing his face against the package like it's the greatest thing ever. I honestly do not know how that cat knows it is for Clare but he knows, oh yes. And I think we all know how Hrothgar feels about Clare. Well, at least sitting on her suitcase and neatly folded clothes. So, I'll try to get it to you as free of cat hair as possible. Sorry. Stupid cat. He's lucky he's so damn cute...

Irrate German Detector

Wednesday morning Jule and I go on a shopping run for the office. Art and craft store, buying supplies for a good-bye project for Lesa, our director. I drove, seeing as how I'm infatuated with my car and it was actually just outside the office front door and not a hell and gone walk to the parking lot.

So I'm driving. Jule's in the passenger seat. I'm driving and then she says, "How come that light says the passenger air is not on?"

I explain that Hyundai's have a sensor to detect if someone weight less than 100-120 lbs. It assumes that if the person is less than 100 lbs,it's a child and turn off. But the sensors have problems and some of the Hyundai's were recalled. Andy and i knew this when we bought the car, thinking, "Skinny minnies ain't our problem." The car always knows when Andy's in the passenger seat.

"I am not a child!" Jules shouts. "Don't I deserve an air bag? What are you doing! Don't crash now!!"

At that moment an idiot in a red van sewerves across the traffic and makes and illegal right hand turn across three more lands of the boulevard. Jerk. I honk my horn appropiately.

Jule, meanwhile, is fixated on the air bag. "I want an air bag! I want an airbag!" She's bouncing around in the seat and by some miracle, the lightgoes off, indicated that the air bag is now on.

I say, "Oh, the irrate German detector must have gone on."

The the light flickers back on. Oh crap. Instead of complaining, she reaches for the car manuel and looks up the section on the air bag, muttering all the while that in Germany there is a button to turn the air bag on and off. Stupid Germans, solving problems with simple engineering.

So it seems that one's bottom must be placed in the middle of the cushion (where the sensor and scale is) and both feet on the floor for the scale to work properly so the air bag will be on.

And then I propmised Jule that I'd write about our misadventure.

Oh, and then we had bad shrimp at lunch and she had no fortune in her cookie. I told her that god hated her and was out to get her. Cause I'm cheery like that.

Enchanted Shoes

I've come to the conclusion that the cool shoes I bought at Naturalizer with Jenny and Clare are enchanted. They're really pretty spiffy. Shiny black patent leather mary janes with a 3/4 inch kitten heel. Cool. But enchanted? Come on, seriously, Mel?

Every time I wear the shoes, I get hit on. I kid you not. Wasn't wearing anything special yesterday. Black pants, black sweater, and those shoes. I got a "damn girlfriend" in the parking lot at work and this guy came over, trying to get my number. I flashed my wedding ring and politely declined. A girl can get use to that kind of attention.

Atlantic City

Took a completely spontanious trip to AC this sunday. Won 50 cents on the video poker, didn't loose money. And when I say "won", I'm not counting the five bucks of Andy's money that I lost of nickle slot.

Due to the Union protests right outside the casinoes, the entire place was empty. we went to the Sands(ring a ding ding), whose Union was not striking. I refused to cross a picket line.

Had the best pizza ever. It's surprising. It's this little dingy joint right on the boardwalk and looks like it would stomach destryoing greasy food just like every dingy joint in the boardwalk. But the sauce is crushed tomatoes with big chunkcs of garlic. Nothing out of a can. Delicious. Oh, and that was followed by funnel cake. Yum.

And I bought a tweed hat. It's cute. Nearly bought a very nice knock-off Coach bag. It even had serial numbers on the inside, so it's a good fake,but the "leather" felt more that vinyl. The guy want $35, which was like $10 too much. And he wouldn't be talked down so I walked away. There's always more knock-offs around the corner.

Saw Shaun of the Dead. Best zombie movie I've ever seen. Dead funny, too. Question, though. In the movie, Shaun drinks a Diet Coke. Andy says that there's no such thing as Diet Coke in England because in all his experience (2 days in Oxford) he only saw Coke Light. I produced from my scrapbook a photo of Jenny drinking a Diet Coke and eating a package of gummy bears. He swears by the Coke Light, though. So Clare will need to straighten this out. What is Coke Light? Is there still Diet Coke? Enlighten us.

Yeah, that was my holiday weekend.

Welfare Office Sass

What is it with the people at the welfare office? They have to be, hands down, the rudest people I've ever spoken too. I've spent thirty minutes calling one welfare office after another, trying to find out which office covered my client's address. You see, Philly's broken down in sections. And not just by zip code, but also by street. So you can't really tell just by looking at the list in my +resource book or the blurry 10th generation photocopy of "the map."

So, the rudest people on the phone. Such sass. No one knew the answer. Rather than look it up, they hung up or told me to call another office. They act like's it their money they're giving out, coming right from their checking account, and everyone wants their money. And can you imagine the attitute a poor person who needs food stamps must get if they give me, a social worker, a COLLEGUE, that attitute.

Welfare has a lot of problems and every year they get less and less money but all this pressure does not excuse the piss poor professional quality of service from the workers there.

November is No more rhyming month

So the Andy says this morning, he says, "Next month is Nomorhymo, so you better get it out of your system now." I mouth "nomorhymo," wondering what the hell that is.

He then saunters off singing a little song, "I must stoop to reach the scoop if I wish to collect the cat poop."

No mo' rhy mo. Clever monkey. Plus, he has this unhealthy fixation with the cat and the litter box. Gross.

Later when we are in the car, he mentions that next month is Bananaramo.

Can't even think of a response to that.

Friday Night Debates

The presidential debates last night night had some interesting points. I particuallry enjoyed the way Bush demonstrated his diplomacy style by talking over Charlie Gibson, the moderator, out of turn. Because when someone says it's not your turn and to shut up, you should just keep on talking.

Also, we played spot the wire. Yesterday, Fark linked to CNN an article stating that from Bush's mic in the first debate, there was an odd sort of feedback just before Bush opened his mouth. Almost as if he was wearing a wire and was being feed answers. The Bush Administration's explination: pre-echo. That's right, pre-echo. Echoing from Bush before he even opened his mouth. It might be more plausible if they had said it was Bush's deep telepathic connection with the nation, anticipating his every words.

So last night we were looking for signs of cheating. On Bush's right ear and neck was an oddly pink and plastic looking stretch of skin that went straight down into his shirt collar. He kept ajusting his jacket, pulling it closed. andy swears hs sawthe wire at the begining ofthe debate but I counld't see anything.

Today, that link on Fark does not exist and the article on CNN does not exist either. I followed that link and read that article.

But is is on the Guardian website here. Good ol' Guardian. The reporter finds proof (from C-SPAN footage) of an oddly shaped bulked between the President's shoulder blades. Very interesting. Wanna see the photo and chime in? I don't need to say that having someone read you lines in a DEBATE is cheating and if any of these rumors are true, they must be exposed before November 2.

However, go and register your opinion of who won the debate.

Nanowrimo!

Ah, the approach of autumn and the arrival of the annual crazed quest to write a novel in a month: Nanowrimo. Of course, for this month a novel is defined as 50,000 words: a little novel, really. Practically a baby novel. A novella.

I encourage you to particiape if you've ever had the ambition to write that great novel but have never gotten around to it, shouted angrily at a movie/book/tv that you could pull a better story out of your ass, or just have nothing to do in November. Sign up now!

This year I'm running with the Virginia/Josephine/Charlotte idea. It seems like fun. I've got character steches, some plot outlines, and even a little bit if dialogue written down in a notebook. But I con't write a word of it until Nov. 1, otherwise that's cheating. So far I've been thinkning about the headers on each chapter. I want to add excerpts from "sources" about the girls once they grow up. Virginia is an archeologist, little newspaper clippings from her latest finds or no finds. Jo is going to be an infamous sufregette, so little political tirades from her. Charlotte, I was surprised to learn, becomes a "beloved children's author." Really. Then I read some of her titles, "A Young Ladies' Illustrated Primer" and "Unsuitable for Children of all ages: a Fairy Tale collection." And then it occured to me, I don't know any unsuitable fairy stories. So, I'm ready for your assistance.

The Week in Review

Let's see...Monday mornign got to work to discover a broken door, graphite power everywhere, and a computer missing. Someone broke into my office over the weekend and stole the only good machine in the place. Couldn't take the crappy computero ff my desk, took the brand new one. Monday sucked. Everyone was a bit traumatized. Oddly, nothing else was missing. Tere's no alarm inside the building, so the theif had all the time in the world but only took one computer. Couldn't even be bothered to take it's printer and mouse.

Tuesday was Hurricane Jeanne. I think by the time it got to Philly it was a "tropical depression" but trust me, it felt like a hurricane. It started raining at 2pm and did not stop until midnight. And it wasn't a nice little raining, it was end of the world, heavy heavy rain. The drive hoem took two hours from Center city. Mainly because the highway actually flooded. The water got caught between the cement devideres and flash flooded. Bang. Instant four feet of water. Luckily, I missed the exit to I-95 so I missed out on all the flooding fun. I was stuck on the city streets, as was the entire city, and the those roads were flooding too. Got home fine, just took awhile. I remember the drive to center city that way, Iwas composing this entry. I t was going to be about how Fairmont park is rather ominous in the autumn. The dark green leaves, wet with rain, the buring gold and orange, and the fog that clung to the water of the river. The road is situated soem feet above the river, so there's this steep, ro9cky drop from the edge of the road straight down to the water. The fog was curled inside the gorge, snaking alongside the road, and disapated just at eye level. It was like there was something cashing you as you drive. When you turned your hed, it disappeared into the fog. Spooky. Yeah, then it rained and rained and the entire spooky road through the park and beside the river was under water. So, in a way, it was ominous.

Wednesday, got new glasses. I tried super hard not to get a pair that looked like Andy's, because I don't want to turn into those married couples who look and dress like each other. Turns out, they look like Natalie's glasses. Reddish-brown, plastic frame. Very cool, in my opinion.

Thursday, watched the Presidential debate. John Kerry clearly smacked Bush around. The bezt was when Jon Kerry reminded Bush that Bin Laden attacked us on 9/11, not Iraq. All Bush could say was, "I know Bin Laden attacked us. I know that." No, I think it's obvious you didn't know that.

Friday, worst migrane ever. Thought my brain was going to burst out the back of my head. Went home from work early, slept until Jenny called.

Saturday, hanging out in my jim-jams.