“Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward.” – Kurt Vonnegut
Possums, I have abandoned you lately and I prostrate myself before you begging forgiveness.
By way of explanation, two weekends ago we went hiking in canyon country and I managed to roll one ankle, strain the opposite calf, and capped off the whole performance by blacking out – which was a peculiar experience. Angel moved to Hawaii and therefore a last hurrah was in order. All last week, you may recall, I was swamped with work, and this past weekend was spent with J.’s family as a sister and brother-in-law were in town and nieces and nephews must be played with!
Also, we are officially in crunch time. J. heads off in three and a half weeks and life just got the tiniest bit hectic. We had to get him a new suit plus fittings. We just bought my ticket home (boo!) in addition to tickets to the East Coast (as the original plan was to drive out there, but that was scuppered pretty finally). We have to register the car for this year (more money), store all of our books and fine china, and try to find J. a place to live in London.
In other words, I’m stressed, tired, not sleeping well, and getting obsessive compulsive about some really ridiculous things. More on that later. In the meantime I have a tic in my right eye, an odd twitch in my leg muscle, and apparently I’ve started grinding my teeth in my sleep. Send something distractive my way, please? Update me on your life and times!
“Yes, I’m very busy and important…” – Love Actually
I’m doing nearly 200 raises at once. The next person who disturbs me will be marched into the parking lot and shot through the lung, Iamnotkiddingyouguys.
[Dumplings, it’s that week of the year, when the campus is invaded; it’s also the week that I am processing nearly 200 raises. Ergo, I’m dead to the world. Please enjoy this re-post of this time last week, and be assured it’s just as relevant this year. Upon reflection, this is also the week where my optimism about humanity at large takes a beating…]
As if we were not already desperately busy, especially with Fall semester looming, this is also when the University hosts a conference open to the public. For a mere $44 dollars, you can come spend week going to classes about academic topics, theology, personal development, and probably basket weaving for all I know. This wouldn’t be so bad if it were not for the people.
And we're not leaving without our commemorative mugs!
It is impossible to convey how boorish these invaders are. You’d think they owned the place! Office supplies go missing, we have to lock classrooms so that they can’t get in, they knock people down rushing to classes, they yell at everyone…genuine menaces to society. However, it’s their propensity to complain about everything, usually consequences they’ve brought on themselves by their rude behavior, that really bleaches us of all sympathy. Some favorite complaints:
I couldn’t find a parking space so I had to park in the road against oncoming traffic.
No. You didn’t. That’s like saying, “There were no cigarettes so I had to smoke crack.” Not at all. The circumstances are probably aggravating and cause withdrawals and make you irritable (not unlike frustration with parking), but the solution you propose is still illegal.
We paid good money to come to this conference, get out of our way!
We pay much, much more money to go to school here for four years. Full time. And do you think any of us get our way?
We paid good money to come here [again, please note $44], so we should be able to park wherever we want.
Hm…not really. This is, in fact, a fully functioning university 365 days a year. Which means that we have anywhere between 20,000 and 60,000 people here on a daily basis who are actually working and taking classes who need to park. To put it simply, we trump you. You are visitors, we are permanent.
We can’t find anything on this campus of yours. Don’t you label anything?And where are we supposed to park?
Yes. You will find them on those handy maps you were given on your first day. And you can park in any one of the half-of-the-entire-campus-lots we took away from those mentioned in the complaint above this one and gave them to you to use. For a week. For free. Ingrates.
The bishop encouraged us to come so, since the bishop sent us, you should give us food for free, because of the bishop.
This is not the parish potluck!
We drove a long way to come here, why can’t we leave our car in a handicapped stall?
I don’t care if the Vatican called you personally and declared all your sins would be forgiven if you invaded campus. I don’t care if we get an email from Mecca declaring this the site of this year’s pilgrimage. I don’t care if St. Thomas a Becket re-capitates himself and orders Chaucer resurrected to write another masterpiece about our humble university town. You do not, under any circumstances, get to get away with such unpardonable behavior!
(Cutting in front of whole lines of people, including one in a wheelchair, to buy things at the campus store and then snapping at the people who ask you to move to the back of the queue, “We’re with the conference!”)
Who raised you?!
“Let me be clear – no one is above the law. Not a politician, not a priest, not a criminal, not a police officer. We are all accountable for our actions.”
– Antonio Villaraigosa
Dear World at Large,
I get it. I really do. No one likes the police (mostly, I think, because they’ve been caught) but there is an unsubtle distinction between Fascism/Police States…and you being held accountable for your behavior.
For example! If you choose to come into a police department screaming, yelling, swearing, threatening, and gesticulating rudely…please make sure you’re in the right place for your complaint and not a completely different city and police jurisdiction. You will look rather silly if you’re not.
Alternatively, if upon realizing your mistake you choose to continue your rant (at the wrong police station) by upping the volume and threats, and a uniformed man with a badge, a gun, and the ability to arrest you asks you to leave the property, do so. Do not spout off that your father is an attorney (whoop de freaking doo for you, join the club), do not shout that he [the officer] doesn’t have the authority to arrest you, do not take a swing at the clerks and secretaries, and do not flip him [said officer] the bird and call him a “socialist, fascist, Taliban, moron!”. You’ll be cited. Not because we are fascist, but because you’re trying to hit people and trespassing.
“Health nuts are going to feel stupid someday, lying in hospitals dying of nothing.”
~Redd Foxx
I’ve been fighting something for about a week now. I can’t tell what disease it is exactly because it simply will not come to the foreground. It’s lurking in the lymph nodes of my mouth and manifesting itself as nothing so much as exhaustion and a mild sore throat that just won’t go away. But yesterday I felt so beat and icky that I went home early and tried to get some rest.
Getting rest for me is no easy feat because I can rarely sleep during the day, I usually have to be on death’s door to get some shut eye. But, after much trial and experiment, I’ve discovered the magical combination that puts me to sleep. And it’s more than a little bit ridiculous.
First of all I have to be on the couch under our large window. Secondly I have to be, cat-like, in a sunbeam (which is odd because normally I can only sleep in pitch darkness). Thirdly I have to be listening to Planet Earth, or Blue Planet…or basically anything narrated by David Attenborough – something about his voice just soothes me into slumber. Finally, I have to be reclining on a very specific pillow at an even more specific angle. But by these powers combined, I am Captain Zonk-out!
Unfortunately…yesterday I couldn’t quite get the clouds and the pillow quite right and spent about an hour and a half fruitlessly trying to fall asleep before throwing off the blanket and looking for something to do instead. So I popped a couple of aspirin and reorganized our closet looking for things to throw away or donate. Then I sorted through the (very few) books we’re not keeping and bagged them for library donation.
Every weekend I seem to be useless, but let me tell you, sick and drugged up I can get everything on my To Do list done!
“Something cool, I’d like to order something cool…” – Julie London
Bad things come in threes, minions. As if problems and delays in moving to only the only city I have ever loved wasn’t crippling enough (and can you tell that I’m trying hard to maintain this facade of adult-like maturity when I really want to throw a monster temper tantrum?), a very rude patron decided to complain that I was the one being rude to him! In spite of a wide smile and attempts to help him as quickly and efficiently as possible. And then our air conditioning went out and we woke up to a 90 degree flat yesterday morning, an event which was unfortunately repeated this morning as our landlords haven’t been able to fix it yet.
False accusations + heat + crushing disappointments = severe snark. Although I fully admit Sav is having a much worse time.
Perk me up, kittens. What’s going on in your corners of the world?
“First thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.” – William Shakespeare
Exhibit A, proof that I'm a nice person, damn it!
Both my father and father-in-law are lawyers, lots of my friends parents are lawyers, I grew up amidst a plethora of lawyers, dumplings. Charming one and all! I never understood the all-consuming hatred some people have for lawyers… until I worked for a police department. Now in the cosmic scheme of things most lawyers come just above tabloid journalists and other assorted media vultures, followed by cockroaches. Which, as everyone knows, are the most horrifying, revolting, filthy concoction of vileness God ever turned out wandering-
But I digress. Lawyers. I am fully aware that most are decent and lovely people (this means you, Dad) but somehow I never seem to come in contact with those types professionally. For instance! The one who called me today and explained how he was representing the victim of some property damage.
He wanted to know the process of personal conflict mediation on campus and I explained and offered to direct him to the proper department, but no, that didn’t answer his question. Perhaps I could take him through the process of punishment for such behavior on campus? I explained that if the incident was a criminal matter then charges and citations would be taken up (as they always have been) by the district court, but internal university matters had a separate office for working through such things, perhaps Master Lawyer would like their information? But that didn’t help either. Finally I asked what exactly it was that I could help him with.
“Well, the two parties came to an agreement about repairing the damage, but that the other party has now refused to make any payments.”
“I see, but I’m not sure how I can help, sir.”
“What we were thinking…that is, we thought that maybe…perhaps that you would be able to punish this person…”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow, sir. As I said, that really would be a matter for the courts-”
“No, what I mean is, perhaps the university could put a hold on his student account to keep him from going to classes or anything. You know, to help us exert pressure on him?”
Pictured: said raised eyebrow
Which is precisely when C. the Chipper and Helpful Office Assistant turn into Humorless, Schoolmarm-ish Small Dog of the Raised Eyebrow.
“Just so I understand, you are asking for my help in involving the university in a personal dispute between private individuals, where the police department has absolutely no need and the university no right to interfere?”
“Er-”
“Or, more plainly, you’re asking my help in getting the university to bully this other party for your client?”
“Ah. Yes?”
“I can’t – won’t – help you with that, sir. And nor can any other university employee I’m afraid.” Quick transition back to Chipper and Helpful C.. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Um, no, I don’t think so.”
“Have a nice day, sir.”
Faugh! What correspondence school did you get your “law” “degree” from, pray?
“I hope I didn’t bore you too much with my life story.” – Elvis Presley
Some of my friends seem to have gone completely round the twist lately, and not one has been able to satisfactorily explain their strange, sad, pathological, or just flat out bizarre behavior. I’m baffled, kittens.
Dear police officers who have had all year to complete 40 hours worth of training: no sympathy. I’ve sent you quarterly updates of your training records and multiple emails this month alone reminding you that I’m turning everything in at the end of the week, your sob stories about how you never knew you were 39 hours short will not fly here.
Sweet merciful chocolate, J. starts grad school three months from tomorrow!
Sweet merciful chocolate on a stick, we still have so much to do…
I have stayed up late every night for a week now, in a unprecedented attempt to prove that I am not a dull, matronly, boring old married woman at 25. The net result is that I’m near psychotic from sleep deprivation and have never used so much concealer in my life. I r adult now, k thnx bai.
We are smack in the middle of the busiest work week of the year preceding the busiest work day of the year, the 4th of July (which includes but is not limited to VIP performers, parades, marathons and 5ks, street festivals, massive firework displays, and the gradual wearing down of any and all patriotic feelings on the part of our department staff as we deal with screaming children, patrons livid with the parking situation, traffic accidents, any amount of petty crime, and 48 hour work days).
My birthday just keeps on going! Celebrating it with various friends and family took up about a week and I milked every day of it (Can’t do the laundry, it’s my birthday! Can’t save that baby from the pack of roaming wolves terrorizing that burning building that was started by the earthquake, it’s my birthday!). Last night I got the probable last of my belated birthday present…just in time for my anniversary on Friday!
Seriously…I’m so tired right now… Ladies from the parish are coming by this evening, I should probably clean the flat and not take a nap. But…
Visa applications can be submitted starting tomorrow, but they probably won’t be completed seeing as I have to be at work until 9pm prepping for the dratted 4th of July. Freaking colonists and their freaking independence…
Oh dear, do I have anything for dinner?
We’re really moving in just about 2 months. Please hand me that paperbag and ignore any sounds of angst that may escape my muffled mouth.
“University Police, this is C., how can I help you?”
“I’d like to speak to a customer service representative, please.”
“Ma’am-”
“Customer service.”
“Ma’am -”
“Cus-to-mer ser-vice!”
“Ma’am, I’m not a recording. How can I help you?”
“Oh, hello. I lost my purse today. I was coming to campus with my seven grandchildren – Mary, John, Paul, James, Agnes, Peter, and Martha – and we went to the museum, then stopped for lunch and went to the art museum before going to get ice cream.”
“I see. Well, ma’am, the first -”
“They all wanted strawberry, except for Agnes who hates strawberry and had to have chocolate and Peter because he’s lactose intolerant. So when I got them all home I got everything out of my car, it’s a 2008 suburban, tan, and I just got it new tires last week, I also had to get the oil changed!”
“Alright, so what you’ll need to do -”
“And frankly I was less than impressed by how difficult it was to get around campus with seven children, I really think you should make more accommodations for large families. But my purse is a large satchel, canvass, and it has my planner, my medications, and my wallet and I really need it back! Could you send an officer to go look for it?”
“I can try but I strongly recommend you come in and make a police report with us, and that you also -”
“Oh, surely no one would steal my bag and my bank isn’t very helpful. I’ve known the manager for years and you think he would be more respectful to an older woman, especially a neighbor like me. I really think that it’s a shame how people treat ladies my age! The person who served us our ice cream, except for Peter of course, was also not very helpful. You’re not being very helpful either.”
“I am trying my best, ma’am. If you could give me a little more -”
“You’re not listening to me at all. Please transfer me to someone who could be more useful.”
“My spelling is Wobbly. It’s good spelling but it Wobbles, and the letters get in the wrong places.” – A. A. Milne
Pumpkins, you know I try to blend the everyday with humor, toss in a pinch of cynicism, and baste it lovingly with hyperbole before serving it up to you, piping hot…but there are some things that cannot be sugar coated. I hate to break it to you if you didn’t already suspect it, or alternatively confirm your worst fears if you did: the kids are not alright.
"May I have the word again, please?" "Your word is 'cat.'"
At least, their spelling isn’t. I’m again convinced that autocorrect is killing our brains. Here’s a few of our most recent puzzles (from witness statements, appeals, emails, and letters) and our best guesses as to what they are supposed to mean:
hared = hard
vary = very
ad = and
mastak = mistake
whey = why
exspesholy/espetially = especially
roung = wrong
lugudge = luggage
situadion = situation
oll = all
agaon = again
In other words, I’m stressed, tired, not sleeping well, and getting obsessive compulsive about some really ridiculous things. More on that later. In the meantime I have a tic in my right eye, an odd twitch in my leg muscle, and apparently I’ve started grinding my teeth in my sleep. Send something distractive my way, please? Update me on your life and times!
Small Dog Syndrome 