Showing posts with label Stuff that addles my brain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stuff that addles my brain. Show all posts

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Dishes

I hate doing dishes.
I don't know why, I just do. I leave them until they pile up so high it kind of disgusts me or until I run out of utensils to eat with. Then, I finally do the dishes.

I let them pile up this week because every night this week I've looked at them and thought, 'ugh! I can't deal with this tonight!'

And then, when I finally did ALL those horrible dishes tonight, it took less than 15 minutes.
So dumb! Just do it! (Thanks, Nike.)

And yet... right now, I sit here eating pudding with a spatula because I refuse to wash a spoon.

Leopards, their spots and all that jazz...

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Warping My Mind

I probably shouldn't admit this. I'll probably come to regret it. But, I suppose, I've already written two whole sentences, which I'm pretty sure is the point of no return.

I read that Chris Henry of the Cincinnati Bengals died yesterday.

My first thought was "Oh. Sad. He was so young," which I think is fairly typical and falls within normal limits.

My second thought, however much it pains me to admit it, was "I'm glad he wasn't on my Fantasy Football team. There's nobody worth picking up anymore."

What is wrong with me? When did this happen?
It's sick and wrong.
Fantasy football has warped my mind.

And so it goes.

Monday, November 9, 2009

Men in White Coats

I keep looking out the window to see if they're here yet. Not yet, but I'm sure they're coming.

I bought one of those bag frozen dinners at the grocery store this weekend. You know the kind that comes with chicken, vegetables and pasta in the same bag? It was pretty cheap and comes with 3 servings. Perfect... sort of.

I decided to split up the ingredients so that I could keep two portions frozen and only make one portion for dinner tonight.

Carrot in the pan, carrot in bag 1, carrot in bag 2.
Chicken, chicken, chicken.
Pasta, pasta, pasta.
Broccoli, broccoli, broccoli.

I knew when I got to the corn that there was something wrong with me.

They'll have to get past Joe and Milo to get to me, but I know they're coming... sneaky bastards.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

The Power of Positive Thinking

When did life get to be so hard? It's not that I thought this would be easy necessarily, but I didn't really realize the emotional toll it would take.

The days are pretty easy to get through. I have work, which takes up plenty of time and I have a number of friends there that keep me socialized and human.

The nights are harder. The house gets quiet with just me and the dogs.

On the one hand, it's nice that I only have to worry about myself. There's no one else to please (or not as the case may be). I can be completely and totally selfish and there are no consequences.

On the other, it's lonely and dark. There are no hugs. There is no soft place to fall.

For the last couple of weeks, I've had a pretty much daily cry over the sad state of affairs my life has become.

Today, I decided to stop.

People (myself DEFINITELY included) fall into a trap of thinking, "I'll be happy when..."

I'll be happy when I lose 5 lbs.
I'll be happy when I find somebody to love.
I'll be happy when I have enough money.

I'm tired of saying "I'll be happy when." I'm going to be happy now.

I didn't let myself get into a negative place today. I only listened to songs on my iPod which make me feel good (which recently means no love songs, no angry songs, a lot of medium tempo content neutral songs). I set expectations about how I would feel during each portion of my day.

And although I wouldn't call it a complete success, I have to say that I felt better today than I have in a while. No tears. While I wouldn't call myself "happy" per se at the moment, I feel at a minimum neutral, which, trust me, is an improvement.
Life is what it is and I have to take it as it comes. But, I'm not going to live for a mystical future date when life will be good enough to be happy with.

I want things, which may mean that I'm always doomed to some level of dissatisfaction, but if I can achieve a state where I'm fairly contented interspersed with moments of genuine happiness (which will hopefully be more numerous than the unavoidable moments of unhappiness) then I'll consider it a win.

Monday, October 26, 2009

Path

When I was younger, I could see a path laid out for me. Easy to follow, just place one foot in front of the other and I would get where I wanted to go. No problem.
Easy as pie.
Peach pie.

Is this where I meant to go?

I can't see the path laid out in front of me anymore. I don't know where I'm going or why. I'm a little bit lost. The future looks murky. I can't see it at all. I'm flying blind.

I still have hope for a better tomorrow, so I keep trying to figure it all out.

Then, I remember Pandora's box. Was hope a gift to humanity or a curse? Fairly often, it feels like both.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Gross!

I was at a presentation today where they were talking about rates of hand washing after bathroom use for attending physicians, residents and nurses.

The numbers were 61, 50 and 71 respectively. They talked about the 71 for nurses as a win.
What?!?

Um, you're health care professionals. Sanitation is important!!! Those numbers should be way higher!!!
Y-U-C-K!!! (I stand by my overuse of the exclamation point here.) That is so gross.

Then again, maybe I'm not a good judge of this sort of thing.
Hell, even if I'm about to jump in the shower, I still wash my hands after going to the bathroom.

Friday, September 4, 2009

Oh, Honey!

I was looking up the lyrics to Devil Went Down to Georgia today using Google. (Let's pretend that is a normal thing to do and move on... sound good?) They have that completion matching business now that tries to "help" you.

When I typed in "Devil went down" my options were:
Devil went down to Jamaica
Devil went down to Jamaica lyrics
Devil went down to Georga
Devil went down to Georga lyrics

Seriously? How many people had to misspell "Georgia" for Google to list it in the search options list?

And how does the "Devil went down to Georgia" not even make the list?

Makes me a little sad.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

We Do Not Kill Bunnies in This House, Mister!

We do NOT kill bunnies in this house, Mister!
These are the words my neighbors heard me screaming across the lawn at my dog, Milo today. We have a little burrow in our backyard where a bunny must have given birth because there are a bunch of baby bunnies in there.

Milo found it. A couple of days ago he kept sniffing a patch of dead grass and jumping back in surprise. I watched it for a little bit until I went over there.
Pity sake Milo! Stop being such a drama queen! It's just a patch of dead... oh.
He's been crazy about going into the backyard ever since. I've been trying to keep him away from it. I took him out today and let him near enough to sniff it (which is all he did last time).

This time he stuck his stupid nose in and pulled out a tiny, little baby bunny. I started screaming and swatting Milo's rear end until he dropped the bunny. I threw his butt back in the house grabbed a towel and went back outside to return the bunny to its burrow.

Poor bunny tried to get away from me, but it couldn't hop properly yet so it just sort of flopped around in a circle.

After I came back inside, Milo and I had a long conversation about how killing bunnies is not what we do in this household. I don't think much of it sunk in. He's standing at the back door trying to get me to take him out as I type. Bad dog. Poor bunny.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Why I Love the X Games - Part Two

Here is some of the commentary from the Moto X Freestyle competition I was watching tonight on TiVO.

Commentator 1: It's interesting to note that no non-US or international player has ever won this competition.

Commentator 2: Isn't non-US and international basically the same thing?

Commentator 1: Uh, well Americans can be international, too, so I just wanted to be clear that it was non-US.

Damn, are they dumb! They know a lot about Moto X. They can tell you what the tricks are and pretty much the complete history of every trick, but when they get to jabbering outside of their industry specific knowledge, holy shit are they dumb!

Luckily, that just makes it more entertaining for me. It may or may not make the husband uncomfortable when I shout back at the television and tell them how dumb they are.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Mrs. The Husband

I got a birthday card from one of the husband's sisters today. It was addressed to "Mrs. The Husband"

Ugh. 
Really? Is this the 1950s?

I am not Mrs. The Husband.

Mrs. if you must, otherwise, it had better be me. 
Much love to the husband, but I'm not the little woman type. I don't fall in line and stand behind my man. My man can stand at my side or behind me!

Sigh. 
The husband just laughed when he saw the address label. He knows what's what.

Friday, July 24, 2009

Sometimes, You Can't Stop the Crazy

Here's the thing, my closet is very organized. There is a system at work, people. 
I have a U-shaped walk in closet with space to hang clothes all around the U and a place for folded clothes above it. There is also a tiny little hanging area at the entrance to the closet above the U. 

My pants are all folded. Jeans on the right. Non-denim pants and shorts on the left. Flannel and comfy pants at the base of the U. Gym clothes on the umlaut. 

My shirts are all hung up, arranged by color and sleeve length. 

My shoes are arranged so that winter shoes are on the left and summer shoes and commonly worn all-weather shoes are on the right. 

Each shirt has a specific type of hanger that it uses. When that shirt is in the laundry, its hanger goes on the umlaut. 

What?
I said I had a system. 

Tonight, after I got home from the gym, I was in the middle of changing clothes and for no particular reason I decided to reorganize the free hangers on the umlaut. They are now arranged by type (plastic with indents in the shoulders, plastic with hooks, plastic without hooks or indents, free hangers (the kind you get from the store that list your size on them)) and color. 

That's right. Tonight I stood in my closet, wearing nothing but my shorts and a sports bra with my gym shirt STILL IN MY HANDS, rearranging the hangers. 

About halfway through I realized how weird doing that was. Yet, I still didn't stop. It would have driven me crazy, at that point to leave it. Short drive, I know. 

Sometimes, I wonder if I have even a passing acquaintance with "normal."

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Just the Picture

They've added a glass balcony to the Sears tower. Just looking at the picture makes me a little queasy and makes my knees go kind of weak. Heights from airplanes don't bother me. Hell, jumping out of an airplane didn't bother me. The idea of standing on that glass ledge makes me want to throw up a little bit. 

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Father's Day

I bought my grandfather, Poppie, a Father's Day card. It's very pretty and brown. It looks handmade with fancy paper and a ribbon on the front. It says "Love You, Grandpa" on the front.

It's too bad that I'm greeting card illiterate, otherwise I might have read the inscription before I bought it. It says:
You're a wonderful person grandfather,
a great person, 
and an inspiration to the family. 
Happy Father's Day
Just in case he didn't know it before, he's a wonderful person AND a great person. In a comma delimited list TOGETHER. 

Sigh.

I know he probably won't even notice. He's a sweet, darling man who will just be glad I sent him a card, but still, I would rather send him a card that didn't read like a raging, insipid moron wrote it. 

I guess most greeting cards sound that way anyway, so I probably didn't really move that far down the greeting card food chain. 

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

You Know You're Not Fooling Anyone, Right?

I don't watch Jon and Kate + 8.
She's bossy and mean. He's weak and boring.
Together they produced a hell of a lot of kids.
Snooze.

But, how can you stay away from the media storm the break up of their marriage is creating? It's salacious. It's fame, sex, money and lies. It's awesome.
In an, 'oh those poor children' kind of way, but awesome, nonetheless.

They're trying to convince us they're still together.
Yet, they spent her birthday apart. His trip out to Utah "just happened" to fall on her birthday?
I call bullshit on that one. You don't just happen to make other plans on your wife's birthday. This is a major relationship no-no. You especially don't make other plans to hang out with a girl you got tabloid busted for possibly having an affair.
There is trying to convince us that you're still together for the sake of the show and blah, blah, blah, whatever. Then, there is insulting.

Really, the hard part to believe is that someone would want to have an affair with either one of them. They've got 8 kids. If I were single, I don't think that kids would be a deal breaker. One or two little steps running around seems like it would be manageable. But, eight? That's a whole lot of baggage. I guess you can never really underestimate how low people are willing to sink for a little bit of fame-whore action.

Who's ya daddy?

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

What a Waste

I read an article on MSN.com today about a girl who has, for the last 13 years, had perfect attendance at school. Not by accident, by design. She wanted this. She refused to attend baseball tournaments or take a senior skip day all in the name of maintaining her perfect attendance record. She is a self-described "perfectionist."

What a fucking waste. 

I don't think there is anything gained by encouraging perfectionism in those who feel compelled to seek it. We all fail eventually. It's inevitable. You're better off learning to accept yourself and cope with the imperfections and failures than to indulge in a perfectionism that can only be achieved on a very small, insignificant scale. 

I'm not judging. I'm a reformed perfectionist. 
But, never about my attendance.

I'm not going to lie to you, I skipped school in high school. A lot. Especially in my senior year. I particularly hated my pre-Calculus class and skipped it at least a couple of times a week. 

The whole affair makes me laugh in retrospect because I wasn't particularly clever in getting excused from class. I am a decent forger and our attendance office was insanely stupid.  Every. Single. Time. I went to the "seniors" window with an excuse note she would point to the next window and tell me freshman/sophomores get excused at a different window. And honestly, who goes to the dentist that often?

There are things I regret about the choices I have made. Things that I would do differently if I had them to do over. Skipping school is not one of them. It was fun. I don't regret it at all.

I would love to say that I learned some big life lesson by breaking the rules. But, mostly, I learned that sometimes you can get away with stuff you're not supposed to and sometimes it's fun to break the fucking rules. 

This poor girl gets a lousy 15 minutes of fame for a record I wouldn't take if you offered it to me gold-plated. I hope, in the end, that's worth it to her. 

Saturday, May 2, 2009

When I Grow Up...

My mom and I went to a tap dancing performance at the Capitol Theater last night. It was called the Soles of our Feet. A part of the performance was a tribute to Arthur Duncan.

This guy:

You'll understand why they call him the "King of Taps" around the 1:15 mark. 
It wasn't just a tribute to him, he was a part of the show. 
When he first came out, he tapped and sang. 
I leaned over to my mom and said, "I want to be him when I grow up."
He's about a billion years old (really I think he's about 76 according to IMDb), he still doing what he loves and singing and tap dancing. 
That pretty much kicks ass.

THEN! Then, there was the second part. The rest of the (much!) younger cast came out and they tapped together. And not some slow, piddly tap routine. It was insanely fast. And he was right in sync with the young kids. 
Did I mention he's about a billion years old?
He was doing things with his legs at 76 that I'm pretty sure I could not do at my tender age of 28. 

That's when I leaned over to my mom and said, "I think I overshot. I think I'm going to have to settle for being maybe about as half as cool as he is. Possibly one-third." 

It's something to shoot for, at least. 

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Pink Lemonade

Is pink lemonade really raspberry lemonade?

At work, they have those Crystal Light packets that will turn your bottle of water into lemonade or orange drink or green tea. I usually use the plain old lemonade packet.

I get kind of sick of lemonade though. Unfortunately, my only other options are Classic Orange, Raspberry Ice or Raspberry Lemonade.

It's unfortunate mostly because I hate raspberries. I want to say that I hate them with the fiery passion of a thousand suns, but that would be an exaggeration. So imagine that fiery passion, only slightly less intense and you'll get the picture about how I feel about raspberries.

So, if in fact, pink lemonade is really raspberry lemonade, I'm going to have to re-think my whole stance on pink lemonade. I used to fall solidly into the "pro-pink lemonade" camp.


I had hoped that pink lemonade was really just regular lemonade colored pink. Maybe I was just kidding myself. I feel so disillusioned. It feels like when you are a kid and you realize that "Santa" is actually just Mom and Dad. Just. Like. That.


Sunday, March 22, 2009

I Hate Bella Swan

I do. I'm sorry. (Not really.)
She is horrible. She is one of the most annoying characters in literature that I have ever come across. Whiny, little martyr. 

When I originally read Twilight, I thought it was alright but not great. New Moon is just boring, except at the very end. Eclipse is a terrible, terrible book. I hate it. At some point, I want to slap all of the main characters. I've heard a lot of complaints about Breaking Dawn, but for me, even if it's kind of ridiculous, it's the most entertaining of the books. 

I really don't understand why people are so in love with these books. Jacob is a brat and a sexual predator. Edward is too-good-to-be-true and a little bit of a prig. Bella's a dumb twat. 
What's the appeal?

I watched the movie this weekend with Sist-A. It was okay, in that I didn't mind watching it and it was entertaining for what it was. Kristen Stewart is a terrible actress though. I don't think she could emote her way out of a paper bag. Or maybe she just doesn't understand the difference between all the other emotions and being mildly constipated?

This whole series makes me feel old. I just want to shake a cane at "kids today" and fondly reminisce about the "old days" when they knew how to construct a narrative and create likable characters.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Fraud!

You think you know somebody! 
We've been planning a weekend to go see APT with the family this summer. I bought the tickets and the parental units were working on getting some hotel rooms in Spring Green. 
So, I was calling my dad and getting e-mails from my stepmother going back and forth about what to do when I got this email from my darling, sweet stepmother:
Nevermind. I took a chance and called APT pretending to be you. They took care of me. 
Wait. What?
You pretended to be me?
Wow. That's not a sentence I ever thought I'd read anywhere. Ever.
In the end, it really all worked out in the end as we were able to get the hotel rooms we wanted, but still... kind of disturbing.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Sick and Wrong

I came across this article today on MSN. 
It is a brave and honorable thing to be willing to defend your country. Although I don't think much of the war most of these men and women are fighting, that's politics. It doesn't make their national service less. I don't understand why they volunteer to join the armed forces. Do we ever do the right thing by them? It's just sick and gross. 

FORT BRAGG, North Carolina - Staff Sgt. Jason Jonas says when he goes to bed at night, he is terrified his medication will cause him to oversleep and miss morning roll call again.

His commanders are fully aware the paratrooper wounded in Afghanistan has been diagnosed with a sleep disorder, because he is one of about 10,000 soldiers assigned to the Army's Warrior Transition units, created for troops recovering from injuries.

Instead of gingerly nursing them back to health, however, commanders at Fort Bragg's transition unit readily acknowledge holding them to the same standards as able-bodied soldiers in combat units, often assigning chores as punishment for minor infractions.

In fact, the unit has a discipline rate three times as high as Fort Bragg's main tenant, the 82nd Airborne Division, and transition units at two other bases punish their soldiers even more frequently than the one at Fort Bragg, according to an Associated Press review of records obtained through the Freedom of Information Act.

"In my 10 years of service I have often seen soldiers mistreated, abused or left hanging, but never have I seen an entire unit collectively mentally and physically break down its members," said Jonas, a 28-year-old from Tempe, Arizona.

Adding insult to injury
Jonas is one of 11 current or former soldiers who have spent time in Fort Bragg's transition unit and say that its officers are either indifferent to their medical needs or trying to drive injured men and women from the military. Some complain they are being punished for the very injuries that landed them in the unit.

"It is the military's way of dealing with it: `You're a fake. You need to go back to work,'" said Pfc. Roman Serpik, 25, who enlisted in Duluth, Georgia. He said he injured his head and back in a practice parachute jump last April.

Jonas suffered a concussion on a jump in 1999 at Fort Bragg, and military doctors determined that that led him to develop narcolepsy, a disorder that causes people to fall asleep abruptly, he said. He provided copies of his medical profile to the AP to confirm he has the disorder.

He said medication for his condition made him miss formation five times, resulting in a demotion that cost him $400 a month.

Officers in the transition battalion at Fort Bragg's Womack Army Medical Center would not discuss individual soldiers' medical or disciplinary records, citing privacy laws. Speaking generally, they said the way to get soldiers back on their feet is discipline, not accepting excuses.

"Do we hold our capable warriors in transition accountable to these standards, to include the Uniform Code of Military Justice and the various Army regulations? Unapologetically, yes, we do," said Lt. Col. Jay Thornton, the unit's commander.

Thornton said soldiers are "helped, not harmed, by maintaining an appropriate level of structure and military discipline."

Advocates for wounded soldiers question whether the tough-love approach is an effort to get rid of soldiers considered unlikely to return to regular duty.

"It creates a hostile environment where soldiers buckle and take a low-balled disability rating and benefits just to get out when they can," said retired Army Lt. Col. Mike Parker.

The Warrior Transition system was established two years ago to improve treatment of wounded soldiers after the scandal over shoddy conditions at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington.Soldiers assigned to the units have combat injuries such as amputations and mental health problems such as post-traumatic stress disorder, as well as minor ailments that didn't come from combat.

The transition unit at Fort Bragg issued what is known as an Article 15 — used for minor misconduct that doesn't rise to the level of a court-martial — roughly once a month for every 135 soldiers through the first nine months of 2008.

At Fort Knox, Kentucky, the rate was even higher — one Article 15 per month for every 96 soldiers. The highest rate was at Fort Drum, New York, home to the 10th Mountain Division, where the injured warriors' commanders issued one Article 15 per month for every 76 soldiers.On the more lenient end, the Article 15 rate for the transition battalion at Fort Riley in Kansas, home of the 1st Infantry Division, was one for every 309 soldiers, and one for every 371 soldiers in the transition unit at Hawaii's Schofield Barracks, the base of the 25th Infantry Division.

Flawed Army policy?
The differences in the discipline rates point to a flaw in policy rather than pockets of misbehaving soldiers, said Paul Rieckhoff, founder and executive director of Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans of America.

"We will be looking to the Army to take swift action and hold the appropriate people accountable," he said.

Commanders at the transition units at Forts Knox and Riley and at Schofield Barracks all declined to comment on how they handle discipline. At Fort Drum, spokeswoman Kate Agresti said only that the base's transition battalion "follows appropriate military guidelines" that take a soldier's medical condition into account.

Jaime Cavazos, a spokeswoman with the Army Medical Command, declined to speculate on why the rate of Article 15s in the units differs so widely. "I suspect you'd find similar variances between line units throughout the Army," Cavazos said.

The current and former soldiers interviewed by the AP told similar stories about discipline within the unit at Fort Bragg. Most spoke on condition of anonymity because of fear of reprisal and warnings from above not to speak with reporters.

Sgt. Sheree Snow, 30, of Indianapolis, said she was evacuated from Iraq to Germany with fibroid tumors in February 2008, had a hysterectomy that May and was prescribed pain and sleeping medication for months afterward while at Fort Bragg. She said the medication led her to miss nine morning formations, and when she was trying to wean herself off the painkillers, an entire day.

Thornton, her commander, punished her with 14 days of extra duty and docked her two months' pay, she said.

"The leadership isn't trained to work with wounded soldiers," said Snow, who returned to her primary assignment at Fort Eustis, Virginia, this year. "I feel that the unit holds us to such high standards because they do not know better."

Jason Thomasson, a 34-year-old Iraq veteran from Winston-Salem, North Carolina, said he was sent to the unit after developing post-traumatic stress disorder, which he said led to extreme paranoia. He missed formations and left Fort Bragg without permission. For that he was demoted and eventually kicked out of the Army.

"Solders are being punished for injuries that they sustained while they were defending the nation," Thomasson said. "I was a model soldier before I had PTSD."