Tag: Humor

Friends, Humor, Shopping January 26, 2009January 26, 2009

Confessions

“I am ashamed of confessing I have nothing to confess.”
-Fanny Burney

If only that quote were true, unfortunately I need some serious absolution. Read on for a list of grievances:

1- I shouldn’t have, but I did! Amazon.com was having a sale of international DVDs, I was weak. On the upside I finally own Amelie and the Gerard Depardieu version of Cyrano de Bergerac. I wanted to get Paradise Now but I couldn’t bring myself to spend even more…a laudable decisions I immediately flouted by finding some of my favorite books on sale as well.

1a- Addendum to the above: obviously I didn’t have enough books already so I went to Barnes and Noble’s website and found them selling my absolute favorite novel (which is out of print and I lent out my copy a year ago to S. Bear. She lost it. I nearly wept.) so what was I supposed to do but order a new copy? Kays, let no one judge you. Ever.

2- The carnage didn’t stop there. Venice and I hit the mall where I found a red pencil skirt (Hello! Absolutely necessary to my happiness, right?) a couple shirts and a cardigan.

3- I also went food shopping which isn’t bad of itself, but according to the Core Performance workout/nutrition thingy J. and I are doing, one of my favorite things (triple cream French cheese in any form) is verboten. Mark Verstegen, I defy you! In fact, I’m snacking on some at work right now, take that.

Caption — Some people have strong feelings about this holiday...

4- I have never dated anyone during the drama-fest known as Valentine’s Day (alternatively called Single Awareness Day, Suicide Day, Loneliness Inc. Day, Best Day Ever, or Bribe Someone for Affection Day depending on one’s worldview. I find I don’t fall into any of these categories) so I’m at a bit of a loss. I usually got rid of boyfriends in time to avoid the hassle. I don’t do pink and shiny, the only stuffed animal in my life is my comrade-in-arms-since-birth Teddy, and I’m an absolute snob when it comes to chocolate (the by-product of living in Belgium and England). What does one get one’s boyfriend of almost a year for the holiday?

5- and finally, speaking of drama, I am once again addicted to Grey’s Anatomy. I really thought I had kicked this one…nope…

Drama, Humor, Life January 23, 2009January 26, 2009

Angst du Jour

“Oh…the irony…”
-C.

For my high school graduation/18th birthday/going to college present, my dad bought me a laptop. My dad, wonderful man that he is, is always on the lookout for a good deal which is not necessarily a bad thing, but he often forgets his own favorite favorite saying, “You get what you pay for.”

My laptop itself was new but also an already outdated model that was too big and, as it later turned out, one of a line famous for a glitch that caused overheating. Somehow (by hanging the side off the edges of desks, keeping my window open in winter so cold air could blow on it, and buying multiple power cords when one after another was melted through) I managed to make it last for four years without crashes or data loss. However it was too much to hope that it could limp on any longer. I got all my music, pictures, data, and important work off of it and retired the poor thing to my closet.

My parents just got a new computer and decided to send me the old one, also a dinosaur but still very appreciated for its lack of battery incinerating habits. Sadly a couple of days ago, without warning, it simply turned itself off for no readily apparent reason and has since refused to turn back on.

At the time my reaction was a near heart attack and much, “My music! My photos! My writings! Angst, angst, angst! Why me?” You know, the usual wailing and gnashing of teeth routine. I’ve since accepted it and made appointments to have it looked at and begun silent prayers to the computer gods to be merciful.

PS – did you know there’s a patron saint of computers, program, users and the Internet? Found him when Googling “computer problems.” For some reason they picked a guy who died in the 7th century AD; I for one fail to see the connection.

Life January 21, 2009January 21, 2009

Feel the Burn

“Beauty knows no pain, so what you cryin’ about, girl?”
-Frank Zappa

Quick update: exercise hurts. Running, which I’m used to, isn’t bad at all, but strength training should be somewhere in Dante’s hell. As a punishment for sloth, perhaps? I’m sure I’ll turn out toned and fabulous, but in the meantime ouch!

Yesterday morning after lifting weights, I was putting my makeup on and was more than a little embarrassed to discover my hand was shaking. My eyeliner was a bit dodgy and ragged around the edges, I looked like a raccoon vibrating from a caffeine high. Today just lifting my arm high enough to apply mascara was a chore.

I need a goal to keep me going at 6am on Friday morning instead of whimpering, “Stop the treadmill I want to get off!” Suggestions? My fallback bribe of choice, chocolate, seems counterproductive for some reason. And legally morphine is out.

Friends January 20, 2009January 21, 2009

Rise and Scowl

“How are you feeling?”
“Like a military academy, bits of me keep on passing out.”
-The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

I, to grossly understate it, am not a morning person. I like to think I’m usually slyly sharp with a Katherine Hepburn-esque wit and sarcasm, but when I’m cranky I’m flat out vicious.

I'd support a movement to have the day start at 10am

Actually I don’t mind mornings as such, I just hate getting up. Or rather, being woken up before I’m good and ready to do so myself. During freshman year, Jenni and I had a friend who for some reason disdained to eat the cafeteria food graciously bestowed upon us (that was uttered with said biting sarcasm, by the way) and usually cooked her own breakfast. Also inexplicably, although more reasonably so, Jenni had what amounted to a fully stocked kitchen under her dorm room bed complete with mixing bowls, blender, and assorted spices. Our friend Sunny would raid this horde everyday to make herself breakfast, which I had no objection to. But at 6:00 in the morning, which I did.

Sunny is a naturally loud person at normal times but at that ungodly hour of the morning…let’s just say I found it a particular trial. After about a week of trying to swallow my frustration and try go back to sleep after pots had been clanged and crockery clattered, I couldn’t take it. Unfortunately the very next morning Sunny spaced and not only showed up earlier than usual, but accidentally flipped on the lights (at 5:30 in the bloody morning!) when she tiptoed into our dorm room and made such a ruckus under Jenni’s bedthat I erupted.
“Morning, C.,” she chirruped brightly, “Want some breakfast? I’m…um…uh…”
“Sunny?” I murmured darkly.
“Yeah?”
“Get. Out.”
She didn’t enter our dorm room again without my permission, daylight or not, for the rest of the school year. Apparently I bare an uncanny resemblance to a Fury at 5:30 in the morning.

exercise My latest bone to pick with mornings is my workout schedule. J. and I have started working out together, but on weight lifting days the only time we can seem to manage is early mornings, other times are just too crowded at the gym. Today was the first attempt at the new time. I HATE it. There were about three other girls, all with their respective boyfriends like me, who had to navigate the rows of testosterone soaked equipment with our dinky little 5 and 10 lbs weights while these Hulk-wannabes hefted my entire body weight in each arm for arm curls. Every once and a while some guy let out a roar that sounded suspiciously like he was giving birth, and most spent an inordinate amount of time checking themselves out in the mirrors. If I hadn’t been so cranky/clueless I’d have thought it was hilarious. Unfortunately nothing is funny that early, not even to me.

I’m sticking with it, hating something and giving it up aren’t necessarily mutually inclusive, but I have spent the day encased in emotional ice and venom. With aching muscles. Watch out, I bite.

Work January 15, 2009November 3, 2009

To Catch a Thief

“They said they were just doing it for fun.”
“To the tune of Grand Theft Auto? What is this, a video game?!”
-Detective South and C.

Law enforcement, even from a secretarial standpoint, is pretty interesting. I’d never make a career out of it, but I’m getting a lot of fun info on people that I’ll hopefully be able to turn into good writing one day. But some of the stuff we deal with is stranger than fiction, no one could make this stuff up!

That big case that the detectives cracked? Turns out a bunch of college freshman went on a burglary spree that eventually culminated in finding dropped keys taking the car, and using it for a week before dumping. It only took one tip and somehow the detectives managed to unravel it all, high five, guys. But, heck, these kids weren’t even born in the same decade as me!

Another robbery occurred yesterday in the campus library. Thanks to a description by the victim, we found the stolen item listed for sale on Craigslist, matched the seller info to Facebook (of all things!) where he was handily wearing the exact same clothes in half of his online photos as in the security footage, and voila!

Oh, and who gets to do all the paperwork for these sorts of things (all criminal counts for our friends the car thieves that all have to be recorded, filed, copied, put into correct format, and hand delivered to the county attorneys)? Your friendly neighborhood secretary, C.!

Hopefully since they managed to solve almost every theft case from the end of last year in one feel swoop, I’ll be able to get some of the more mundane work done that I haven’t for a couple weeks. Office supplies must be ordered, stats must be entered, letters must be written. Obviously I get to do all the fun stuff around here…

Home, Life January 13, 2009May 22, 2009

Cleanliness is Next to Godliness

“I hate the word housewife; I don’t like the word homemaker either. I want to be called Domestic Goddess.”
-Roseanne

I was up past midnight cleaning my flat for our semesterly cleaning check, even though out of sheer laziness our complex management simply decided to forgo it last Fall. Slowly over the years, as I’ve grown up and moved into a place relatively my own, I have become convinced of a fundamental war between good and evil: order and chaos locked in eternal combat, and their battleground is housekeeping. I’m pretty sure the Apocalypse will happen in my apartment.

I am become Cleaning, the destroyer of sanity

There are divine entities at work too, I’m positive. There is a malicious God of the Dryer who demands the sacrifice of socks to appease his hunger. These hapless cotton victims vanish into an alternate dimension never to be seen again, that’s the only explanation I can satisfactorily come to. I bought two dozen a couple months ago, I’m down to nine (not pairs, total). Also, my flat in particular is plagued by a Dust Demon that periodically covers all it sees with a tangible layer, courtesy of a filthy vent (thanks, management, for helping us out with that). Another entity is our resident Garbage Disposal Goddess who is by turns benevolent and heartless, currently the latter. Thankfully for us all the Second Coming of the Vacuum redeemed us all (three months after it died, a brighter shiny new version arose to take its place).

I’m sorry to say my flatmates aren’t always the cleanest (neither am I, but at least I try!) and occasionally they call Domestic Divine Wrath down upon us. The most recent and notable example is my flatmates leaving two plastic jugs of milk (I’ll call one Sodom and the other Gomorrah) out on the counter for at least 5 days. I woke up one morning, late as usual, and was scampering about to get to work on time when upon entering the kitchen, I found the jugs had exploded all over my counter. Something resembling the unholy love child of cottage cheese and sour cream had erupted everywhere and I was late to work because I had to clean it up or asphyxiate. I suppose that makes me a great crusader at some level but at the time all I was was pissed and, I feel, righteously angry.

This little incident broke the camel’s back for me. When J. came over that night I snapped, very uncharacteristically, “I’ve decided we should get married. Next week.”
Kudos to him, he understood perfectly. He just sighed and asked, “What happened?”
I will say one argument in favor of matrimony and child bearing would be the eventual slave labor offspring provide doing chores. Maybe that’s the reason my mother had four of us.

Anyway, after several hours scrubbing, chemicals, vacuuming, and many socks sacraficed, my flat looks pretty good. The forces of Good have prevailed, for a week at least.

Small Dog Syndrome