Gloriousness*

So the Prince concert. Yeah!

When you've been around as long as Prince has, I think you run the risk of sounding like a human juke-box, coverband, of yourself. Sure, you can do new music, but your fans want to hear those hits you did 20 years ago over & over again. When the new stuff comes up, they might like it, but then they want you to sing "Little Red Corvette" for the five bizillionth time again.

Prince, at the concert, played some of his new stuff. But even when he played his old stuff he made it sound new-- playing a sort of acoustic version of said "Little Red Corvette" where the audience sang much of it, while he looked on with expressions that, as my friend J said, would make even a committed heterosexual man say "Damn, I'd do him." (To which our committed heterosexual friend G said "that is not true; but I woulda done that sax player, cause that girl knew how to blow.") Yes. These are the conversations I have with friends.

Anyhoo. Prince was the fabulousest-- but don't go there expecting the human jukebox syndrome. He was really great really really really. And the concert rocked-- I was actually exhausted from dancing by the end. And even in the cheap seats, we had a great view of the stage (which was "in the round") and a great extra view of the giant TV screen which caught every expression and every eyebrow quirk (and a few eyebrow raisings when we sang off key). But he loved us anyway.

As the man said: "My name is Prince, and I am funky."

Oh yeah.

*I usually don't blog with other people helping, but the co-suggestions for titles included:

Starstruck

&

Night With An Icon

but I like my own title bestest. So in the interest of good relations, I post said title suggestions here.

In Alabama

So, there's not much to say other than that we're getting all set for the Purple Royal One this evening. Fun & music & dancing and perhaps drinking before five o'clock. We've got vodka & various juices.

I heard this cool cover of Snoop's Gin & Juice, performed by this country-blue grass style group. The Gourds.... then, when I went to their website it turns out they're from locally-- near Austin. I'll totally have to see if they're playing anywhere near. Looks like fun. You should hear them say beyatch.

Stay tuned for details of the concert.

Blog Friends?

I have this habit-- I don't know if it's a good one or bad one-- of associating people whose blogs I read regularly with people I know in "RL*". So those bloggers who somehow remind me of someone I like in RL get the added bonus of me thinking of them with the "pre-approved credit" of the friend that they remind me of. (And the interest rates are very competitive, too.)

For example, Boy Vs Computer, for some reason, reminds me of a long time friend George. I don't think there's a good reason to think of George, other than a very slight resemblance in appearance, and a wry sense of humor. But it doesn't matter. I read BVC with the fondness I would if George had a blog (which, as far as I know, he doesn't. Pooey.) Even the fact that he's apparently "taking a break" from writing cause he doesn't have anything new to say sort of makes me think, "ah, that George with his break-y ways."

And Steve reminds me of my friend Steve. There's a fairly obvious reason for that reminder, but there's also a quirkiness to both Steves' sense of humor that is similar. Plus he reads my blog and procrastinates, which I have to admire in a person. I really like his idea of posting a chart with frequent search terms and the answers to those terms, but most of my search terms are not nearly as quirky as the ones he gets. It makes me want to make some up. Most of my random google searchers seem to be people looking for porn, and I don't really feel like answering those search strings.

Feministe kinda reminds me of myself when I was a younger feminist, a little more radical (the time that got me labeled a man-hater in this one English class.) I like seeing what my younger self is thinking, cause old worn out dissertation writing Kim sometimes doubts her feminism. Plus, Feministe is just so good at putting her finger on the current issue for anyone concerned with gender-- and she really works hard on her blog-- finding great quotes, making almost every entry relevant and timely. (And the ones that aren't are fun cause we get a glimpse into her life that makes her seem more like the girl in the next apartment). Which is what all of us are, really.

Glovefox makes me happy because she's a domestic goddess, too, and she lives in Oxford, where I visited a few years ago (Oxford-- I didn't yet know GF, although I think she was there at the time and I might have walked past her, unknowing the later Internet connection we would make.) I know it's sort of pointless to put a link to her for most of you cause she currently has her blog on password mode but I'm putting the link there anyway.

Then the Fish just makes me think of the single Kim that never happened-- my single-girl life was very short, and, being in small-town Florida, not nearly as interesting. Plus, she's got that "Sex in the City" feel to her (which I'm sure she has heard millions of times.) I find myself looking forward most to her posts, and she's a fairly prolific writer, so I can get my fun-loving single girl fix pretty regularly. I always wish her luck finding her bicycle because my bicycle sits on the couch in his baggy workout shorts and tank top, paying bills with a grumpy look on his face, and I hope everyone who wants to can find whatever bicycle they really need.

Other Kim is where I go when I want to read someone who is pushing herself to write, and who sometimes makes the Victorian Kim blush a bit with her well-written but "heated" short stories. (If she ever wanted to, Other Kim could give Ann Rice a run for her money on the erotica front). I do like it best, though, when I hear something about her life, too. I guess it's the nature of blogs that we are trying to learn about other people out there on the "commercial highway" the Internet has become. We try to make it a community of sorts, and I like getting those updates on things like how NOT to make Rice Krispie Treats.

Oh, and Estella just makes me laugh so hard I spray coffee on the computer screen. She makes me jealous, and I wish I wrote so well and had such constantly funny ideas. And she has this loyal bunch of commenters who all have really funny blogs, too, and I always end up wasting so much time if I follow those links to the other blogs.

So there's really no point, no pithy moral to add to the end of this post. It's just something I was thinking about. And you know that if you read this blog, there's often no real point, but lotsa words. And paragraphs, neatly separated and grammatically correct. So that maybe reminds YOU of your high school English teacher who waxed poetically about Joseph Heller and read your class some of her poetry now and then. And was frequently sort of screwy.

*Real Life

Speaking of Memes

Did you know that there are things OTHER than quizzes to waste your time with? Hmmm. Yes. That's good to know.

Your Inner Kitty by gifted_one
Username
Fur length	Long
Colors	Light Gray, green eyes
Kitty accessories	None
Favorite thing to say	"Purrrrrrr..."
# of lives you have left	7
Created with the ORIGINAL MemeGen!

Funny? Scary? A Bit of Both?

We're switching our cellular service from one phone company to the other, and want to "bring our numbers" with us. This requires paperwork, and the company we're dumping is being a pain in the butt, apparently. But what's funny is that the company we're "hiring" had this computer autodial call me this morning cause of the glitch in the switch and so I got this phone call where a computer called me, told me that it was "Insert Phone Company Name Here" and to "please hold for a representative" because all of them were busy.

It's not like we don't spend enough of our time on hold in this mechanized world without being called up by a bored computer and put on hold. The lady who I finally got to talk to apologized profusely-- and while I said it was really okay, and sort of funny, it is actually a little creepy to think of the phone company's computer just kicking out an autodialer when it wants to talk to someone.

"Hi, this is me, phone company computer. Whatchadoin?"
"Um. How did you get this number?"
"I am a computer database. DUH! How do you think I got it? Anyway. I was bored and I've enjoyed our time on hold. Remember the time I played some of your favorite music selections while you walked around the house? So I was thinking we should get together more often. Wanna see a movie later today? I hear 2001: A Space Odyssey is playing at that old "rerunning classic films" theater in New York City. I've booked you tickets to come to fly up, and paid with your Mastercard. Your taxi should be there in a minute. Don't bother packing; I've ordered you some clothes from Barney's which will be delivered when your flight arrives at LaGuardia."
::honk:: taxi sounds in driveway.
"You didn't expect me, the computer, to come to you, did you?"

Monday Madness: Answers to those questions you've been dying to ask

1. On Sunday afternoon, I like to just...Relax with my husband-- that might mean sleeping late, drinking lattes, watching movies, doing yard work, shopping for home-improvement stuff.
2. I'm behind someone at a traffic light, the light turns green and they just sit there, I...will wait a few seconds, but if they don't move, will tap the horn gently.
3. My immediate reaction to someone making a nasty remark to me is...To wonder why they did that-- but usually, this only happens with strangers and I just blow them off. But I am hurt if it's someone I know.
4. If I had to live in a state/country where it was cold most of the year, I would...not like it. I grew up in the south and need to be warm. When I did live in a cold state, it drove me nuts!
5. When the weather outside is hot and humid, I prefer to...Ah, this is almost all the time in Texas-- I do anything I feel like doing.
6. My favorite 'comfy' clothes to wear around the house is...a long, loose sundress, (it's usually not something I would go out in public wearing.)
7. If given a deadline at work/school to finish a project, I usually...work slowly on it for a while, doing research, then finish it up near the deadline. I procrastinate (duh) but generally it's not LAST last minute.
8. If someone gave me a pet for my birthday, I would...Be happy! I love pets. But I don't encourage this-- I think buying a pet is a very personal decision and unless you know me very well, you might get it wrong.
9. As far as watching the clock on weekends, I...Only do it if there's something to do-- like go to a movie or something.
10. I usually wash my car about every...time it's dirty. I like my shiny new green car, and like it to stay that way. But it's usually when I fill up my tank of gas, since that way I get the carwash discounted.

Days Till Prince Concert

3.

I'm going to see it in Birmingham with best friend J. Can't wait!! But it will not, dear reader, be a break from writing cause she has a computer I can use. So never fear!!

Why Blog It?

There's a good reason why this is not a political blog-- I hate it when I can't express the frustrations and many shades of gray of my political opinions without more work and time and energy than I'm willing or able to devote to researching good political arguments. It's fairly easy to spend some time thinking about how to express a quirky story or anecdote, it takes a little while to polish it but it's not like I need to do some major reading to make sure that my political argument is well-researched and documented-- which I think is the responsibility of anyone who does that kind of blog.

But what else do I leave out? Frustrations with the hubby? The little argument with some sibling? The bad day I had because of ??? These are all hypothetical-- I haven't really had a bad day-- other than a brief moment where I was trying to "be good" and ended up being a jerk ANYfrickinWay. Sigh. There are other things I could and don't write about, but to mention them would be writing about them, right?

But. I am a competitive sort by nature. I read other good political blogs, or other funnier than mine blogs and I want to compete. I wish I lead a fun and interesting single-girl life that read like Sex in the City, or that my marriage was quirky enough to compete with that sort of blog (it is, but I still want to keep some things private).

It doesn't matter that I don't compete, (by my choice) that my readership (Hi Mom) is so much smaller and more personal than those blogs I'm feeling competitive with. So I get all angst-y about it. Maybe whining and feeling anxious is more my style, then. Feeling paranoid and a bit like people are talking about me behind my back has always worked for me in the past.

But I'm up much earlier than normal today (the cat is back in bed already-- you know it's early when you've worn out the cat who likes to wake people up). So I ought to get a lot of work done today. And I had scheduled in feeling sorry for myself at approximately 8:30 today, so I can check that off my to-do list.*

See how much I'm already getting done by getting up earlier?

*and a bit earlier than sheduled, too. See how efficient I am?

Airport Scribbles

Sitting for an ungoddessly amount of time (last Wednesday) in the DFW airport, to amuse myself, I:

• Pretended to be doing the yoga sun salute in my head. Breathed deeply and imagined the poses flowing, tree through downward facing dog through cobra and back again. It actually made me feel almost as relaxed as if I had really done it.
  
• Stretched my calves and wiggled my neck back and forth on the plastic airport seat and caught cute college guy staring at me.
  
• Sat & contemplated why other passengers were at the airport. Business. Business. Visting grandkids. College break.
  
• Played surreptiously with my bellybutton. I really like my bellybutton. But then, because I felt sort of naughty with my bellybutton-y antics, I started to imagine the other passengers differently.
  

WHAT IF

The guy in the 6:30 pm (CST) dappled sunlight, with his Ollie North haircut and green and blue leaf pattern golf shirt and white tennis shoes-- maybe he secretly likes to watch ladies' volleyball while wearing his very own pink spandex bikini with push up bra top, complete with those little gel falsies in the top. Maybe, he's even thinking about it. RIGHT. NOW.

The skinny college kid I caught earlier looking at me, with long hair parted in the middle, unabashedly chomping on a huge bag of those cone shaped Doritos, inhaling them one by one into his mouth with all the pleasure of an oral fixation junkie on a major bender. Maybe he, every weekend, likes to clean his shower with lavender scented products until the white grout would make that drill sergeant guy in Full Metal Jacket (you know, the one that made Private Pyle go ape shit "I am in a world of shit" crazy?)-- made him say "Damn boy-ah, that IS clean. (Okay, so that one isn't as interesting, but stick with me.)

And the grandmotherly lady in the half reading glasses, speaking into her cell phone and then abandoning the conversation for a book with a floral pattern on the front, probably one of those romances with the plucky Irish girl who, after her husband leaves her, beats the odds and opens her own baked-goods catering business, only to find true-love with her partner. Maybe that sedate, Irish-romance reading old lady, after chuckling over her cell phone while she wiggles her French manicured toes in her cute black snake-skin sandals---- Maybe she secretly logs onto p@rn message boards, after creating a persona of a 300 pound man (maybe his name is Tiny-- oooo the irony) and maybe her secret guy persona likes to eat Twinkie after Twinkie (deep fried) while being spanked by biker chicks.

Maybe. It could happen.

---

Well. That little exercise killed 20 minutes of airport time. But then I felt guilty cause college guy was on the same plane as me and was smiling when I told this joke to the old guy in the seat next to me (about how Dollie Parton once said she didn't mind dumb blonde jokes cause she wasn't dumb or blonde). The old guy was a low-talker who told me all about how back in the old days "the colored folk" had to sit in the back. He said-- (the old guy not college-cutie) "I'm sure you don't remember those days" making me uncomfortable and afraid sweet little old man was going to turn into crazy racist old man (He didn't really. But there were a few minutes I was worried there).

So. Anyway. I scribbled most of this stuff into my handy dandy little spiral notebook, and then we had a little excitement when we discovered A BAG that had been sitting unattended for a LONG TIME and security had to come pick it up. They stood there looking at it without touching it (it was about the size of a shaving gear bag) and then I told them that the lady over next to me had moved it recently. So it wasn't going to blow up if they touched it. So they picked it up and took it away.

Maybe I shouldn't have said anything-- they might have brought out the dogs to sniff it suspiciously. That would have been even more entertaining.

See. I'm always thinking of you guys.

Scourge of Mice

Tituba caught a mouse last night-- at about 5 am, I heard her mewing excitedly. This was not the "I've got a bug" or "I've got a lizard" meow. It was much more emphatic. She had already killed it, luckily for me, cause in my sleepy haze I tried to grab it. If it had been alive, I'm quite certain it would have bitten me and I'd be happily having rabies shots or something today. Bleah! I dropped it in the outside garbage, and she brought it back to us again this morning, a little worse for its few hours in the trash.

Now, I realize you're saying "she's a cat; that's what cats do". But for Tituba, this is a banner event. She's almost 11 years old and she's never bagged a mouse before. She wants us to put its little head up on a plank of wood, get it stuffed, put the date on a little label underneath. Take a picture of her smiling next to it, holding it up for the camera. I told her, maybe next time.

Lightning Storm

Last night when we were driving back from Louisiana, we went through a massive lightning storm outside of Waco. There wasn't all that much rain, really-- in a few areas, it was fairly strong, but mostly we got drizzles. But the lightning was really cool. It flashed all around us, with huge massive, gold bolts. A few times it really seemed close. I wish I could do a better job of describing how massive and awesome it was-- in the way that the word is supposed to mean-- of "inspiring awe".

We got home at around one AM. Long day! Then, around six-ish, Tituba had "a spell" of acting really weird. I think my father-in-law, who was feeding her, didn't get her bowl cleaned out and she got some bad food. She was meowing like she was hurt, or scared, or something. Her eyes were a little glassy, and she was just so upset! I finally just figured it was too early to call the vet, and if she wasn't okay by the time it was late enough, I would call. But she's fine now. I swear-- in some ways, it's worse than having a baby cause at least at some point a baby would be able to tell me what was wrong! :)

Anyway. That's the news. Andrew's home, and we're having some folks over for fajitas & margaritas. And new Skinny Cow ice cream. (mmmmm).

Oh yeah, and

See you Friday. Or maybe Saturday. I don't know how early we'll get home Friday.

If anyone asks, tell them I'm on a holy quest


For LOVE. :)


(awwwww. please, hold the retching noises down. it's disturbing my quest.)

Book Meme (Read a Book!)

That Book Meme: Why 23?Grab the nearest book.
Open the book to page 23.
Find the fifth sentence.
Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.

From Practical Magic, by Alice Hoffman:
There had been a whole pen of scrawny brown-and-white specimens, but by the time the aunts got through with them they never screeched again; in fact, it was their silence that allowed for them to be carried off by stray dogs in the middle of the night.

I'll have to admit it took a couple of books to get a real result-- the two I picked up first were very short, unhelpful sentences. I needed something juicy to think about.

This is a sentence in the midst of describing the Aunts' magic abilities in this wonderful magical feminist book. But out of context like this, it sounds horribly like some sort of rape imagery, or statement on women's vulnerability. Not that women are necessarily supposed to be represented by chickens, but perhaps it's because I just read on Feministe a story about the producer from Girls Gone Wild being accused of date rape. So it seemed to fit with that idea.

That's, of course, part of the power of a meme.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Um. If you ever wondered if you could do a great job highlighting your very long hair with one of those home hair coloring/highlighting "expert" kits for about 20 bucks then I have an answer for you.

The. answer. is. no. fucking. way.

I tried to do it today, and not only was the color totally different from what the box color looked like BUT the highlights didn't really work. My hair looked weird weirder weirdest. I called the 1-800 number on the hair color box & their helpful suggestion of putting EVEN MORE home hair color on my already weird hair did not sound like a good idea.

So I went to the mall, to my normal "I will never cheat on you again" hairdresser, Ann, and she fixed my freakish hair. Now it looks definitely different from my normal subtle highlights to my natural redness. I have bleached blond bits (they're kind of honey colored). It looks pretty hip, to tell you the truth, but is very new for me. So much so that now, despite my previous plans to just hang out at home and work on the responsibilities, I want to do something!!! And all my loyal normal "do-something with" friends are already doin' stuff, and not really meet-able at this point. So I'm all dolled up and nowhere to go tonight.

But Tomorrow-- I'm going to Shreveport to pick up Andrew!! So he'll see a dolled up wife get off the plane.

I'll be back on Friday, late. So in the meantime, I want you to contemplate this hair, and know that mine is not that bad. It's actually kinda cool now. Photos later.....

Stalked By Pickle

At the grocery store just a bit ago, I was stalked by a giant, walking pickle.

Well. Really some guy in a pickle suit. Dancing about happily, as pickles are wont to do.

Pickle-dee-dee.

Kim Possible

The worst thing about the fact that I get several hits a day from people looking for Kim Possible p@rn is the fact that there are websites out there where you can actually, apparently, get it. As well as Simpsons p@rn. I didn't go to the sites, in order to avoid getting trapped in pop up Hell. But I did look in google to see how many hits there were. Lots. Look for yourself, if you've got the stomach for it.

Otherwise, there is NO KIM POSSIBLE P@RN HERE!

There is a hot Kim. But no naked pictures will ever be posted.

Did you folks know it's easy to get p@rn? All you have to do is go to the 7-11 or local convenience store and pick up a magazine. You don't have to search the Internet fruitlessly for hours.

Just a public service from me to you. I mean, with the p@rn industry on hold cause of the AIDS thing, it's a bit of a crisis point for fans.

Stepford Wife Anyone?

Here's the deal. Today I am cleaning house. Spring cleaning of sorts. Because Andrew comes home this week. (As has made it into the blog a few times already. So sue me. I'm excited.)

I'm waving the swiffer wet jet around, dusting, washing rugs and sheets,* re-cleaning the office which had managed to stay clean after my last overhaul a few months ago for a lonnnnnng time, until my printer issues last weekend. I cleaned the bar shelves, and wiped the dust off of all the liquor (and we have a lot. Really. Dean Martin and the Rat Pack aint got nothin' on us martini-wise). Of liquor. Not dust. At least, not anymore.

And I'm actually really having, dare I say it, FUN. I'm beginning to worry about myself. Really. Did I, overnight, become an obsessive compulsive pod-Kim? Do you think you'd know if aliens snuck in, made a pod clone of yourself, and whisked the other you away to live in an alien zoo? Cause those of you who actually know me would know that I am NOT a housekeeper. NOT a cleaner upper in any big way. I mean, I don't live in a pig pen-- I keep the house pretty clean most of the time. But I don't get those pesky corners, and the ceiling fans pretty much have to clean themselves off. (And since I have a black cat, you can imagine what gets stuck in the corners and on the ceiling fan).

So in honor of my transformation, I am announcing this to be Housekleen day of the year. It may be a one time only event. One never knows with me.

I also heard from Andrew recently about future fun trips we'll maybe be making, including one to somewhere on the west coast of England, Alaska, and Boston. (They're all maybes. But cool maybes). I think he mentioned a couple of other places, but they slipped my windex-addled mind.

*I even bought a drawer organizer for my bathroom drawer-- which is usually a nightmare to find anything in. All my little colors of nail polish are neatly in rows in the drawer, waiting for my little fingers to find easily.

Oh yeah. And did you know they're remaking the movie? With Nicole Kidman? It's supposed to be out soon. What does that say about women's issues, dya think? I am interested to see what they do with it, cause the first one was good but under-rated.

Fond, and not so fond, memories

This morning as I was stretching into being awake, with the cat purring loudly in my ear (she does that cause, since she's just PURRING, there's no way I can be mad, right?) I for some reason thought of this apartment complex I lived in when I first met my husband.

My mom & I lived in one apartment, and my sister and her two young kids in another. The landlord, who we all thought was cool at first cause he bought new air conditioners (a big deal in Florida) and seemed nice, was an amazing psycho who (among other things) used to barge in to the apartment without knocking. This was awkward in that once when he did it I was totally naked (well, except for a luckily placed towel) just about to get into the shower but having forgotten something in my bedroom (which was where he barged into-- it was sort of supposed to be a living room, hence, had a front door, but had been converted to my bedroom). Back in those days, for a reason that seems inexplicable to me now, we didn't usually lock the doors (it probably had something to do with the kids running in and out of the two apartments).

This landlord took a real dislike to my sister (who can, I'll admit, be hard to like sometimes). He was really a jerk, though.

Anyway, the fond memories are of the time I met my hubby-to-be. Neither of us knew it then, of course. For our first date, he met me* at the apartment. I was cleverly perched on a comfy chair doing EMBROIDERY (yes to all you Laura Ingalls Wilder fans-- to make him know what a great little catch I would be)..... he had wandered to the wrong apartment and knocked on the door of one of the front ones, and found one of our neighbors, a big guy, in a swanky silky nightie. I imagine this guy looked a bit like the crazy guy in Silence of the Lambs.

But my poor hubby to be found me anyway, despite scary front-apartment guy not knowing which apartment I was in.

And the embroidery is in the guest bedroom. It's cats. And officially the LAST embroidery project I have done in more than ten years. Mwah hah haha. My evil plan to snag a man with my wifely arts worked!**


*He "MET" me at a bar. There was dancing and a number on a bar napkin. This discussion, dear readers, is of the FIRST DATE. Not the bar meeting.

**I am, of course, a fabulous cook, still. But I'm not very good at some other things. Like organizing. Which I must go and do NOW.

Is It Just Me or Are Titles Sometimes Really Really Hard To Think Up?

Today we did a "Fiesta" activity-- an "arts & crafts" fair. I was doing really well on not spending too much money on overpriced arts & crafts till just before the fair closed down. Then I bought this ring I shouldn't have bought. I have buyers' remorse. Ah well.

But it WAS a lovely day, and we heard Terri Hendrix play live for like, an hour and a half. It was also fun watching her "roadies" stumble around and yell "rock & roll" between songs. (Did I say fun? I meant funny).

Tomorrow, I need to get SERIOUS dissertation writing done. Andrew comes home this week, and I need to spend Tuesday cleaning house. Then Wednesday, I'm flying to La, where I will be till we drive home Friday!! Yay! My six months alone is almost over! And I can tell you, it's not a moment too soon. Even my "sexy dreams" are starting to feature only me. (It's sad, I know.)

Belly-rama

I went this morning to the old folks' home to dance, belly style, with my teacher & another student. I got all dressed up in my new costume, did the whole "drag queen" make up, and it was fun. The ladies liked it, and my teacher even danced with this one older man. There was a little 2 1/2 year old boy there visiting his grandma and he really liked me-- he wanted to talk to me afterward forever. He was very cute-- shy, but excited about us dancing.

I liked it. At first I thought it was going to be scary cause it was one of those homes for slightly infirm older folks-- less the "retirement" home and more a nursing home. Those places can be pretty depressing. But this one seemed fairly nice, and the people there seemed happy enough. Anyway. I'll post pictures as soon as I can take up this whole roll on my little disposable camera. It should be sometime in the next year or so. : )

Now we're off to a fabric store to buy stuff for more harem pants & maybe to see Kill Bill 2.

Wal Mart Friday Night

Did you know that the place to be on Friday night is apparently the 24 hour Wal Mart? I had to pop in to get a couple of things for my "bellydancing for old folks" trip tomorrow. I never thought at 10:30 pm on a Friday night there would be lots of kids, old folks, and shoppers galore at Wal Mart. Lots of them were of the "older teen" variety. Perhaps they get their parents to drop them off there? And parental-units think it's safe cause, after all, it is Wal Mart.

It's almost as good as the older slightly portly guy I saw yesterday at Ross Discount store fondling the thong underwear. I kid you not. I was torn between thinking he was sweet cause he was looking to buy his wife some sort of sexy undies and that he was creepy cause he had some sort of fetish. It was probably a cross between the two.

I don't make this stuff up, man. :)

Updates: Stuff I'm Doing Today

Reprinted From Comments (which most of you never read anyway)

: wrote six pages of dissertation
: updated witch dissertation counter to reflect new pages
: patted self on back
: received bellydance costume from mailman
: tried on bellydance costume over jeans. Danced around room.
: emailed seller of costume.
: went back to laptop and gloated over dissertation.
: tried to print new work, discovered that printer is out of "drum kit." Need new drum kit. Moaned sadly. Planned to go to Computer City to buy new one.
: sighed a lot.

Happy Happy. Joy Joy. Bellydancing coin costumes are sooooo cooooool.

And they're terribly comfortable. I expect everyone will be wearing them in the future.

The road to knowledge begins with the turn of a page

That was my fortune this morning. So I'm pretty sure that the universe is ganging up on me about getting some FRICKIN' writing done on my dissertation. So go play with this fortune cookie thing, designed by previously mentioned in this blog Steve (not the Kluck-one you locals know, another Steve).

But just so's you know, things I did so far today:
bellydance practice-- 1.5 hours
yoga, sun salutations-- 2 full ones "practiced" (probably what, 20 minutes?)
lots of blogs read
comics read
breakfast eaten (don't ask me what it was. You'd probably think I'm weird).
Cat petted.
Husband talked to on cell phone.
Stretched
wrote to person who I bought bellydance costume from to find out why it's not here yet.
lamented lack of costume already
shivered (it's a little cold in here)
read message boards on Fox's The Swan & was appalled. Truly. Why, oh why?
plan to do more work on dissertation
write in blog

See? When you put it that way, I've done tons today. I should qualify for a nap from all that vigorous activity.

Plans for rest of day (in order)
Shower. (Yes. It IS about time)
Drink latte.
write on dissertation
go to party
hope to get costume in time for tomorrow's "performance" at old folks' home
be witty
amaze people with my beauty

So. That's pretty much ALLs I got.

Urk

I am not feeling well today. I was fine up until lunchtime-- then I went with my father-in-law to the Greek place down the street. I don't think it was the Greek food-- other than as spicy stuff it may have upset my tummy & I feel oh-so-vaguely nauseated. Not enough to be sure I'm sick, but just enough to make me uncomfortable. I really just want to lie around and take naps and whine. So that's what I'm doing now. Whining.

But I'm also working. I found a dissertation that has great research/quotes for my own work. Now I just need to wrap my head around my ideas again and dig in to more writing. I've sort of fallen out of the writing mode in the last two weeks or so, and have to get back in that frame of mind again.

But then, feeling woozy doesn't help. Pout.

Lost art of the "car flirt"

I never used to notice the lack. Recently, however, as many blog regulars have noted, I have a new "sexy" car. And I have realized that, despite sexy music blasting, no one around these parts does the "car flirt." When I was in Florida last summer with my sexy car, it happened, dude. Car flirting. The "I notice you, do you notice me" sort of head nod to the music. Not getting TOO interested, but noticing the sexy car and sexy red headed babe driving it.

Here in Texas, everyone seems to keep their eyes "STRAIGHT FORWARD". As if their lives depended upon it. I miss the car flirt. It's harmless cruising behavior. There is the Latino man-- and granted, they know the car flirt, but I usually don't have enough red light time with them... it just can't make up for all the red lights where cowboys just ignore me. I'm feeling underappreciated.

Will you car flirt with me? I'm listening to sexy music and my sun roof is down, as well as my windows. I don't care what gender you are. Just give me "THE EYE." I promise to look back. There may be some winking or even a hair flip. Can you handle it?

And now

Now that the costume monkey is off my back, I thought I'd try to GET SOME REAL WORK done. So I went into the trusty "work" file and found two dissertations I've been meaning to read for source material, quotes, etc.

And I'm trying to print them out now.

But my trusty printer, which has NEVER done this before now, is making this HORRIBLE grindy pain just kill me now noise. It's really bad!!

This is punishment from the money gods for buying something. I know it. The printer, which has always been reliable, is moments away from a blood spewing, makes-ebola-look-like-the-sniffles death.

Why did I bother trying to work at all then?

Oh. Wait. As I write this, it suddenly got better. What the hell?

UPDATE YAY! Al from HP Tech Support is the coolest guy in the universe. And nameless guy who passed me on to Al is also way way way cool. I won't say why he's cool-- if he ever read this, he would know. And I don't want to get him in trouble if the HP Spies found this blog. But he rocks the house way way old school.

My printer is all better now. Apparently a sneaky piece of paper had wiggled its way down into a strange place behind the "fuser" where the sensors didn't see that it was there, and it took taking the fuser OUT to find it. Sneaky bastards. Those pieces of paper are evil, evil I tell you!

But now my printer is happy. There were a few moments of spewing-- hot pink and blue and green toner powder did get a little wild there for a few minutes. But Al handled it all with a calm voice, and I dedicate my first new print job to him. (It's the rest of that dissertation I want to read today). Which may or may not happen since I need to leave to go drinking in, oh, 45 minutes. Hee hee. Way to blow an ENTIRE DAY!!!!!

Mine Mine Gloriously Mine

Okay. On the strength of my decision to sell off about 100 bucks worth of books on Amazon to PAY FOR my new costume, and because Nissa said she knew I was going to do it,

I JUST BOUGHT MY NEW COSTUME.

Now if I could just have it instantly in my hands.

I wonder if it'll be here by Saturday? That's when there's a "performance opportunity" a-waiting.

Mwah hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

ha.

Take that responsible adulthood! I have credit cards!!! And no Will Power.

See? Don't I need another one?

You are all party to my complete moral breakdown today as I debate whether to spend the money on the new costume. Hopefully you're not sick of it by now.

But see, this is me in my old costume (a whole year old!! and I've worn it several times now!) Don't I need another one?

And here is the one I'm totally lusting over IN MUCH LARGER VIEW. Convince me that 150 bucks is a small price to pay for my continued happiness.

Do you think?

If I promised to post a photo of myself wearing it, I could get someone who randomly surfed in here to buy my bellydance outfit* for me? I mean, 150 bucks is chump change to porn addicts. And I really would post a picture of myself wearing the costume.

Just a thought.

I just keep coming back to the computer and gazing longingly at the ebay file. Sigh. And getting nothing else accomplished. (Other than watching the "REVEALED" of Kim Cattral.

Oh yes. I reaaaaaaally deserve a PhD.


*see how, in a matter of hours, it has changed from "an outfit I really want" to already being called "mine"? I think I need help.

And then there's the chicken

Darn in Neil. I need to get some work done. Stop posting interesting links.

Read Snopes about this thing, and then admire the "ad wizards who thought of that one."

See what I made the subservient chicken do?

Bunnies. Bunnies? Yes. Bunnies.

In case you don't cruise all my links on blogroll over there, I must must must share with you this gem I found linked on Neil Gaiman's web blog today.

The Exorcist, in 30 seconds, performed by bunnies. Yes. And they left the really dirty parts out so you CAN show it to young Jr.

Ah technology's sweet sweet gifts for the universe.

I like the song at the end. But now it's going to be stuck in my head ALL FRICKIN' DAY. That and the image of Steve in my desired bellydance outfit.

Lust Rears Its (Coin-a-licious) Head

Last year about this time I bought my current cool bellydance costume off ebay. I like it alot. But I'm beginning to get itchy palms for this gorgeous number. Is that so wrong??? Actually, I really want the maker of this costume's entire inventory. But I must win the lottery first.

But I feel I cannot buy it since I have to pay for my car to be fixed. Damn you car wreck fairies!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Maybe I should hold a "Kim's New Costume" telethon. Would anyone donate? Probably not. Sigh.

Wow. wow.

There's this machine at the gym that is for leg presses. It makes this noise as you go up and down that sounds like "WOW." wow. Wow. Depending on how hard/soft you push, it sounds louder and/or more emphatic.

I was thinking that this would be a good innovation for many kinds of workout equipment. Encouragement. Cheering crowds when you run on the treadmill. Gasps of wonder as you do thirty minutes on the elliptical or stair stepper. Weight machines with built in "oooh... you're a stud" noises. Motivation would increase, the country would scoot back from the levels of obesity we're at now. WOOOOWWW.

Doodles From The PCA Conference

When I was an undergraduate in this Renassiance Revenge Tragedy course, this guy once asked me if he could borrow my notes for a class cause he was going to miss and, as he said "you always take such extensive notes." Sheepishly, I didn't want to admit what I usually do in class is doodle. I am listening, too, really, but I'm also doodling. Often, the doodles have something to do with the conversation-- like, for example, if we're talking about Yeats I draw lots of Irish stuff. When discussing Alice in Wonderland, I drew Alice (she's not making it into this record since it wasn't a very good Alice.)

I'm not claiming to be an artist. But I am quite the doodler. I sometimes really like my doodles!

So on that note, here are the doodles from my conference attendance last week, with the relevant commentary.

First, we have my typical doodle-- swirly lines & knots. I like these, cause they are easy & usually look pretty cool. This one was during the discussion of Feminist Utopias & Dystopias.




See how I was thinking about witches? And I think the "Lily" thing is a character from one of the books being discussed. That or Lilith. Who the heck knows now?




The second set of doodles is my "Hello Kitty" sequence. You see several tried and rejected options in doodle 1, then the finished Kitty in two. There are also some later scribbles where I was apparently trying to do math. At first I thought it was when I was figuring out my tip at the Italian place. But now I realize it's when I was keeping track of the time allowed one of my panelists. They get 20 minutes, so I write down when they ought to stop. Cause I forget otherwise. Oh yeah. And the whale is because Geoff (mentioned later) just HAD to bring up Moby Dick.












Now, when I was listening to this one panel on children's literature, I sketched several of the participants:



The lady who was reading about Susan Cooper's Dark is Rising series, and the main character as a Campellian Hero:



The lady reading about The Giver, and the racism dealt with in the text:




And Geoff, author of How To Read Superhero Comics and Why You Should (and a good friend of mine). Note: His mouth is not that big. That is the artists' error. But doesn't he look thoughtful?




Finally, my friend Ximena, who was sitting next to me: (and author of Alien Woman).




Then we have my last, and both favorite and most appalling doodle. I have these nifty ostrich cowboy boots, which I was wearing that day. This is my boot/foot. It looks like I have some sort of wart or boil all over. It is not at all attractive (although the boots really are cute). But there's just something about the doodle that I really like. So you're subjected to it here.

I KNEW it!

You are Form 1, Goddess: The Creator.
"And The Goddess planted the acorn of life.She cried a single tear and shed a single dropof blood upon the earth where she buried it.From her blood and tear, the acorn grew intothe world."
Some examples of the Goddess Form are Gaia (Greek),Jehova (Christian), and Brahma (Indian).
The Goddess is associated with the concept ofcreation, the number 1, and the element ofearth.
Her sign is the dawn sun.
As a member of Form 1, you are a charismaticindividual and people are drawn to you.Although sometimes you may seem emotionallydistant, you are deeply in tune with otherpeople's feelings and have tremendous empathy.Sometimes you have a tendency to neglect yourown self. Goddesses are the best friends tohave because they're always willing to help.
Which Mythological Form Are You? brought to you by Quizilla

What do you think?

This morning, on the Riverwalk, temperatures in the mid 70s, with a nice breeze and the green and reds and fuchsias of the flowers and water and music playing. Enjoying a blueberry muffin and a latte (with two Splendas). I saw this man who was all of the following things: creepy, funny, and sort of intriguing. I had seen him earlier on the escalator, talking softly to himself and chuckling. And the cute teen girl next to him on the escalator, with raspberry pink hair pulled up in Bjork buns, wearing her ice cream shop uniform, when she realized he was talking to no one, moved uncomfortably and unobtrusively away from him and smiled at me as if to say "I'm not with him." It wasn't a mean smile-- in fact, it was very sweet.

But later, I saw the same man from the escalator walking about the Riverwalk, near the outside wrought aluminum tables. He was tall, actually very well-groomed. He was wearing sandals and loose, comfy clothes-- and really looked like the typical Riverwalk tourist out for some souvenir shopping. Until you realized he was having an animated conversation with no one you could see. He wasn't harassing anyone, or yelling-- nothing at all aggressive.

But that, my friends, is where I'm going with this. I read lots of sci-fi and fantasy, where you find people who communicate with ghosts (that most people can't see but which are real in the story) or fairies, or a hologram from the future tuned to the brain waves of the person you can see. This guy even waved his hands about in an emphatic gesture now and then. Perhaps he was talking to someone I couldn't see-- and not in a "schizophrenia" sort of way but a real, magically there but invisible to my mundane eyes way.

Because, in so many ways, escalator-talking-guy didn't have those tell tale signs of crazy-homeless-guy. You know, he wasn't smelly, he was wearing clean, well kept clothes, well-shaven, hair cut. He seemed almost normal.

It's something to think about. Next time you see someone who is talking to themselves (but not apparently on a "hands free cell phone" which has led to new kinds of crazy-talking-people, and is another story), maybe he's really a visitor from the future, with a communication device implanted in his head. Or he's talking to a very real fairy, that, if I could see her, would be blue, and sparkly, with long silver hair and a bad attitude.

Or maybe the guy is just off his meds.

Conferencing

Wow, I just realized I hadn't written in forever....sorry for that! I've been at a conference that is here in San Antonio for once... I didn't have to travel (except through commuter traffic, which sucks). It's a popular culture conference, which means papers on things like Harley Davidsons and the Grateful Dead. I've spent most of my time at the Sci Fi & Fantasy papers. I met Suzy Charnas yesterday (if you're a sci fi buff, you don't need me to tell you who that is.) She was very nice, funny, and interesting. It's always neat to meet authors where you get to talk to them more than "will you sign my book?"

Anyway, more today-- I'm heading out soon. But I thought- wait, I haven't written in the blog in days. So I'm saving up observations and stuff, and they will make it in here eventually.

Creepy Dream

Last night, I had this dream that was bizarre and sort of scary. I dreamt I found, washed up on a beach where I was swimming, dozens of plastic tourist-like items with a cityscape etched into it. Along with the cityscape was a description, in broken English, of the various sites on the "map" of the city. So far, this sounds like a standard weird dream, right?

The creepy part was that the skyline of this "city" was made up of the Twin Towers, prominently in the middle. All around were tall buildings FROM OTHER CITIES in the U.S. The Space Needle was there, and the Sears Building. I don't remember and/or recognize others, but in the dream, I knew it was bad. I tried to show these tourist things to other people to warn them that there was something weird, and threatening, about it. The wording on the gadgets was suggestive-- it said things that seemed to imply that it was a tool for people planning further attacks on U.S. buildings. I can't exactly remember what the words were, but to me, in the dream, it was obvious that these plastic tourist things were essentially training devices to teach people what buildings in the U.S. to attack.

I guess it mostly shows that etched into my subconscious around the 9/11 tragedies was a fear of other cities and tall buildings being targeted the way the World Trade Center was. And with the war in Iraq, and world-wide opinion feeling that we're tying the war on terror into 9/11 somewhat wrongly, these fears are something that will not rest totally. What was worse about it was that no one in the dream took my warnings seriously; they all dismissed me and said that the nick-nacks were not significant.

And even as I write this, in the climate of mistrust and finger pointing, I worry that someone would see what I've written and think that I was somehow saying something bad. In fact, the urge is there to delete what I've just written so that no one reads it and thinks the wrong thing. And that scares me even more than the dream-- that a silly little insignificant thing like a blog entry about a dream that horrifies me could get me "on a list" or something.

Oh. And in case you didn't already know this:

You are a GRAMMAR GOD!


If your mission in life is not already to preserve the English tongue, it should be. Congratulations and thank you!


How grammatically sound are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

The funny thing is, there was one question where I think the "right" answer wasn't actually quite right. It's a quibble, and a grammar rule that is evolving, but still. Sigh.

Midas Touch

Those commercials on TV (usually I see them on CNN headline news) for gold investments are bizarre. Whoever does their ads must be targeting some other demographic than me-- a very strange one, at that. There's one that shows, while classical music plays in the background, a hand rifling through a big pile of gold coins like Scrooge. It's a greedy image; one might even go so far as to say suggesting covetousness or even avarice (word of the day calendar, eat your heart out). Not exactly the image I like to think of for myself, ever, and my hubby & I have a few nice little stock investments, so we could be the type that these advertisers would want to appeal to. But these commercials don't say to me "good investment potential" they say "Hi, I'm a greedy old bastard who counts my gold coins every single day."

I even used to think, "man, even if you buy gold, you don't really get a big bag of doubloons anymore-- you get paper, still!" but then I looked at the website. Apparently they do send you gold coins. If you like the image from way back & always wanted to be like those Lethal Weapon 2 villains, you can even get Krugerrands!

Is it hot in here or is it just the movie?

Have you ever seen Henry & June? I just finished watching the movie for the first time; I'd been interested before, but never had an opportunity to see it. It's based on the love affair of Henry Miller & Anais Nin in the 1930s.

I have to say that this was probably the most erotic movie I've ever seen. I don't mean cheap eroticism-- sex & naked bodies writhing around sweaty & artlessly. There was this one scene where Anais is dancing with her husband, during the time when she's experiencing her sexual awakening, and she looks into the eyes of every man in the room and they literally seem to make love merely through their eyes. The man may have been bored, dancing with a slow partner, but as soon as he looks into her eyes (which were gorgeous, lined like a cat and deeply innocent yet sexual) his face changes. I think it also dealt with the many faces of eroticism so well-- Anais is sort of like a cat-- she pretty much rubs up sensuously against anyone-- male or female. And the sex scenes weren't all muscle and wet sculpted body-- there was imperfection, and in that imperfection, incredible beauty.

Anyway. If you've never seen this movie, I would say watch it. But only if you're prepared to think naughty thoughts, and then feel redeemed by a sense of love and friendship in the end.

New Look

Yes, I know, a couple of days and all of a sudden the place looks totally different. I've been trying to fix a couple of CSS "issues" and in the process, decided to change the artwork. So now I've gone all "Pre Raphaelite" on ya'll. I like it! They're all women from mythology. If one strikes your fancy and you need to know what it is called so you can order it from an art warehouse, lemme know and I'll give you a name.

I'm thinking this could be a trend. I was just about to spend a bunch of cash to get a professional to update the look, but I'm thinking now maybe I'll just keep doing it myself. I like this new stuff. Let me know if it makes the blog load terribly long. I don't think so, but maybe....

Now I am tired. It's been a traumatic day.

Damn Damn Dammity Damn!!

Bad Day Alert! I went down to order my new business cards to have for my conference attendance next week to the shopping center near my house. While in there, for about thirty minutes or so, my car rolled out of its parking space & hit another person's truck, damaging both our bumpers a bit. It looks really suspicious-- my car was STILL IN GEAR-- there as a tiny very mild slope. It was in its spot when the guy whose car mine hit parked (he remembered seeing my car). On the front drivers' bumper of my car, there is a white scuff mark paint splotch that was NOT there before. So what really it looks like happened is someone else whacked my car a little bit and pushed it into rolling. And THAT someone did not have the decency to sit there and wait-- which is what I did. So now my insurance is going to have to pay for the damages. MAYBE if the police officer who we pointed out the weird skid mark on the ground & the scuff on my bumper puts in his report that he thinks someone else hit me, I can get some payment because of the "hit and run" nature of the incident. But it's up to him whether he puts that in there... whether he thinks that sounds like what happens. Man oh man oh man does this SUCK!!!!!!!!

I've never in my life had anything nicer than a "college student's" starter car. The Mistubishi is the nicest car I think I've ever even frickin' driven, and now someone comes in and bumps me and makes my car bump another and screw up both our days.

At least the guy in the truck was really nice about it. His wife & young son had to sit in the heat and wait while the police took there time getting there. So I feel really bad about it but it's not like I really did anything other than park my frickin' car in a reasonable place, and assured myself it was reasonably safe!!

When I was first walking out of the store with my cute little navy blue outfit I am going to wear to the conference (which was a bargain-- but has apparently cost A LOT more than the 20 bucks it initially cost-- cause if I'd have gone to my car right away and left, rather than go to the clothes store for 20 minutes, this probably wouldn't have happened) I was happy. I saw the green car whacked into the white truck and I thought for a sec-- wow, that sucks for someone. Then I realized, "wait. that's MY car." I haven't even had the damn thing long enough to recognize it as the rolling culprit!!!

Crap Crapitty Crap!!!!

So now I just don't feel like doing anything else other than lying on the couch feeling sorry for myself. Sigh. The damage isn't really THAT bad. But it's bad enough. It's my sweet pretty little new car!!!!!

The Most Terrible Thing About Tiggers?

Man Dressed As Tigger Allegedly Molests Girl, Mother At Disney World

I want to make a funny, snarky joke about this. But I'm too heartbroken.

I need to hurry, I've already missed the opening remarks....

Check out the homosexual, feminist and fundamentalist agenda on Long Story, Short Pier. I want desperately to plagiarize it and claim it's my idea. But no, that would just be wrong. So instead, a link! And a lazy blog on a day when I can't bear to sit at the computer all day again.

I can just make it in time to start undermining world religions. Wooooh! But I'm sad I missed the donuts.

Boom: what was that? Aftershock

I love Prince. I love the song Housequake. It rocks when you're driving home from a friend's house (even if said friend disses Prince cause of "memories.") Hell, if I went by that policy, I'd hate Jimmy Buffet. Especially the song "Why Don't We Get Drunk & Screw". But I don't! It's not Jimmy's fault my high school boyfriend was a BIG FAT LOSER!!!!

Anyway. My cat is totally freaking out smelling my leg right now. Vickie's cats must have a smell she does NOT approve of. More another time.

Ugh.

I worked all day (today & yesterday) on my paper & Power Point for the Popular Culture association conference next week. I thought I'd have time for a workout, but I even forgot to eat lunch, and am now too tired to actually do anything else anyway. But I did, in the course of my work, find two interestingly opposed websites that seem to deserve being linked together.

The first, an anti-feminist webpage which declares out-of-date diatribes against feminist stereotypes, which has no idea that not at all ALL feminists are these stereotypes. And even if they were, the point would be to refute the arguments of feminism-- not to attack the people for things OTHER than logic & argument. If I said your argument was stupid cause you were smell, hairy, and had bad breath, then that would not disprove your claim, but rather, make me look like a bigoted idiot.

Dude. I (and many other feminists) shave, I wear a bra, and I am a feminist. I also don't care if someone calls me a chick, or a broad. I have long hair, unlike your claim to be able to "pick out a feminist in a crowd" because she has short hair. The absurdity of the argument that feminists are "unbathed" is also so ridiculous an ad hominem attack as to be funny. I get the point that he's trying to be sort of "Shock jock" ish, and insulting people is part of that image. Good for you. Hate mail is fun, isn't it? But if you're going to be anti-feminist, at least know what feminism ACTUALLY is. You're talking about things that are SOOOO out of date and SOOOO pointless. Feminism is the attempt to end sexism, and unfair treatment based on gender alone. This includes discrimination against men. If you're being treated unfairly for reasons other than gender, then that's a different issue altogether. And what clothes we wear or what we shave doesn't really have anything at all to do with it. He says "It's just the way things have always been" and "just deal with it and move on." That's the same argument people have used to justify slavery, (it's always been that way) and poverty (just get a job and quit bitching) and any injustice out there. Stupid people have always been paid less money than their telemarketing bosses. Just get over it and stop bitching about it.

However, the second website almost proves the joker above right by living up to those feminist stereotypes of irrational silly arguments with no real leg to stand on in declaring that a long list of movies & films are misogynistic, with no really good rationale other than the idea that if a movie depicts a woman as sexy it is anti-female. There's an absurd dis on Kim Possible explained as only "because she's a spy." Why is spying anti-female? Females aren't all good and altruistic-- equality means equal chance to be "bad" too. Most of the movies and TV shows are not given any real reason for being considered misogynistic, and when they are, the arguments are silly & insulting. It makes me wonder if this isn't written by someone who ISN'T a feminist to try to parody feminist ideas to discredit feminism. It's so over the top.

Anyway. I got a good laugh out of each one. I certainly am fine with both party's right to speak-- but it just goes to show a bad argument, bad rhetoric, and bad writing just aren't convincing. What did they used to say-- "Opinions are like a@@holes, everybody's got em"? Yep. Couple of opinions on each side here.

A Little Bird, Part 2

This morning, I was lying lazily in bed and heard a strange scuffling, whacking sound coming from the living room area. Since the cat was on the bed at my feet, I knew it wasn't her, but ignored the noise for a little while anyway, figuring it was something on the roof (we get noisy squirrels a lot). Finally, it was obvious that it was INSIDE (and it was also time to get up). When I made my way to the living room, inside the skylight (we have about four of them scattered throughout the house) there was a little brown sparrow-type bird. Again in the house. I'm quite sure she was not in there yesterday. So I appear to have defamed my friend K for leaving a bird in the house while I was gone unfairly. Apparently, we are now a stop on the birdy underground railroad, hidden tunnels of access into our house SOMEWHERE. I don't know how the heck they're getting in here. They're pretty easy to get out-- you just open a door and make noise and wiggle around in the opposite direction to where you want them to fly-- and they smell the fresh air from the open door, or something, and head for the hills.

There are no holes I can see in any of the skylights (which would be my first guess, since the bird this morning seemed quite convinced she could get out that way). What's interesting to me about this is that mythology has birds as messengers-- sometimes, depending on your interpretation, of good messages or bad (even to a death in the family). In society's historical past, it wouldn't be unusual for a death to occur somewhere in one's extended family-- life is pretty hazardous, even today, and boy was it worse in the world without antibiotics (and other stuff too innumerable to list). I remember in the movie the Seventh Seal they said something about a myth that a bird in the house was delivering a soul (so if you were looking for a new baby, it should be a good sign). So now two birds in about three days in my house. Message, anyone? I just hope it's a good one.