Thursday, July 30, 2009

For the past few days, tiny men have been trying to dig their way through my ear with rusty pickaxes (or so it felt), so I decided to drag my lumpy behind to the doctor's office. First I called my doctor, who I used to loathe but have now come to almost adore. I normally don't have a problem getting a same day appointment and I probably could have today....if he wasn't on vacation. So off I went to urgent care.

I got signed in fairly quickly because I had downloaded their registration form online and filled it out on my way there. Then I waited. I picked up the Highlights magazine which every medical waiting room is required by law to have regardless if children are seen. I found it far more interesting than the magazine next to it that had articles on erectile dysfunction and bedwetting on facing pages. Gallant and Goofus were up to their usual schtick. I found the hidden pictures.

I was called into the tiny room. The nurse, or whatever she was, came in and asked me why I was there. I was tempted to tell her that I was lonely and wanted to be surround by people with big hair in scrubs, but I resisted that urge and told her, as I had told the reception people and as I had written down, I have an earache. Lucky as I am, I got the chance for bonus points! "Which ear?" she quizzed me. Not wanting to lose points, I told her it was the left. I got it right, first try! Then we got to do the scale, because there's nothing more fun then having to tell the skinny girl weighing you, she needs to move the bottom part over.

Finally, it was time for her to take my vitals. My temperature was a little raised but not worrisome. For some reason, she decided to cut off my circulation in my left arm. Sure, she said she was taking my blood pressure, but I'm not sure I believed her. She released my arm from the boa constrictor she had disguised as a cuff and told me the doctor would be "right in." That is one of those lies that continues to spread even though no one believes them -the doctor will be right in, the government works for the taxpayer, no those jeans don't make your butt look big.

I waited. I sent texts to the idiot. I read the Grimm Fairy Tales on my Ipod. I waited. I looked out the tiny window at the driveway behind the center. I waited. A mere twenty minutes later, the doctor was there. It was lightening round time, but I was ready. Why was I at the urgent care, which ear, how long has it hurt, any other symptoms, do you have allergies? Amazingly, I knew all the answers. Then the doctor took his little flashlight thingy (sorry, I'm not a medical person obviously, and I have no idea the name for it) and first looked in my throat and then in both my ears. I bet he wanted to make sure I hadn't mixed up my left and right ear.

Then it was the doctor's turn to provide answers. So why has my ear been hurting for days? Allergies.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Weighty Issues

When I was a child, I was thin (a condition that I have long since overcome!) and short. Not just regular kid thin, but wearing a size less than my age in slim with a belt thin. My redhead and my littlest one have the same build I did as a kid. My sister (the one I like) was not thin. She was not obese by any stretch of the imagination. She was just a little bigger than average. My darling Emo Snow White has the same build, healthy but far from skinny.

When my sister and I were children, strangers felt compelled to share their opinions about our respective sizes with my mother. They would stare at me and ask my mother if she ever fed me. My mother, being the wonderful role model she was, would respond with such gems as “but if I feed her, I’ll never get rid of her.” I know that they would also stare at my sister (people suck) and make snide remarks (people really suck) but I’m afraid that I was so egocentric (I was a child) that I don’t remember what the people said or what my mother might have said in response.

I would love to say that people are no longer as rude as they were, lo those many years ago, when the world was young and so was I. I would love to say it, but I try not to lie on the internet. (I want to be unique) When my Emo Snow White was little, people would stare at her and tell me things like, “don’t worry, a little exercise will slim her down.” Being who I am, I would normally respond with something like, “and a few manners would do wonders for your personality.” When my redhead was little, she perfected the meanest looks and few people were brave enough to comment on her figure. When she started kindergarten, an older child told her she was too little to be in school. My delicate little thing responded with an uppercut. My littlest (and she still is a tiny thing, weight wise) was not spared any remarks. I had one lovely grandmother figure ask me if I ever fed the poor thing. I said no, she feeds herself. (She was two by then.)

Speaking of lovely grandmother figures, I always want to slap them. Okay, not all of them, just the ones who think, because they have somehow managed to live past 50, they have the right to sit in judgment. Like the one who told me how cute my little boy is (I’ve never had a boy) and when I told her my youngest is a girl, she told me that my daughter, whom everyone said looked so much like a darker version of me, had a boy’s face. This happened on one of the rare occasions I actually dressed her in pink! (The outfit was given to me, I would never, never, never, never buy pink!)

Finally, this is directed to the idiot’s mother (I know he won’t read this and she probably won’t either), my children were given perfectly good, if a tad unusual, first names. I did not pick these names out of a hat. I did not surprise your son with them after the girls were born. I did not pick these names to upset you. Remarkably, I did not even think about you when I was considering what to name the fruits of my womb. Their first names may never meet with your approval. That does not give you the right to refuse to use their given names. Oh, and the redhead’s first name? Your son picked it out.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Who I am

At work, I converse pleasantly with the customers, even the ones who grab $400 worth of groceries and only have $150 on them. I smile, I repack in paper when they change their mind after they tell me plastic is fine. I apologize and get them a fresh loaf of bread after they smash it in their cart. I thank them and tell them to have a nice day while they grunt at me. I tell them it's my fault when they run me over or back into me with their carts. I'm pleasant when they yell at me. So I know I have the capability of filtering my responses.

I just don't know how to filter in my personal life. I am the person who will tell you that your hair looks like a pet groomer cut it. I'm the person who will tell you that your breath stinks and shoves a roll of breath mints at you. I'm the person who laughs at your bad comb over. I'm the person who will correct your grammar. I'm the mean person who will tell you that it's not the pants that make your butt look big, it's the ice cream you ate for dinner. I'm the person who will tell you that your writing is derivative. I'm the person who will tell you that you look like a serial killer in your picture.

I am also the person who will remind you that hair grows back and a good shampoo will make it better. I am also the person who will make sure no one else knows about your breath issues. I am also the person who will proofread your essays for you and help you raise your grade level without wanting anything in return. I am also the person who will commiserate with you as we both try to have a healthier diet (ice cream for breakfast only!). I'm also the person who will make suggestions, if you're open to them, of ways to improve your writing. I'm also the person will still love you even if you do look like a serial killer and remind you that Ted Bundy was considered very handsome.

Friday, July 24, 2009

Panties and a butt, but not together

I like to post pictures on my Flickr stream from time to time. Sometimes it's a cute picture of one or more of the fruits of my womb, sometimes it's just something I saw that looked odd or interesting. With Flickr, I can see how many times a picture has been viewed. These are the top 2 pictures on my stream.

This is number 2

This is number 1

I find it kind of disturbing that a guy with a bad rash (the picture doesn't close to the reality) on his hindquarters and an empty pair of panties are the most viewed of all my pictures. It's almost as disturbing as when I saw said panties on the bus. I know people forget things on the bus like umbrellas, toys, wallets, purses and occasionally their manners, but how do you forget your panties??

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

I found it!

So I guess I'm a little slow because I had a copy of the final draft in my school email (duh!) since I had to use Here's the final draft

Pizza Hut versus Magpies (take 2!)

Magpies Pizza and Pizza Hut sell freshly made pizza at a reasonable price. Magpies Pizza and Pizza Hut have websites featuring menus, nutritional information, and money saving coupons. Magpies Pizza and Pizza Hut have dine-in, pick-up and convenient delivery service. Magpies Pizza and Pizza Hut have locations in every major part of Tucson.

Magpies Pizza is a locally owned company that has easily won the Tucson Weekly's Annual "Best of Tucson" Best Pizza award nineteen times. Pizza Hut is a national franchise under the Yum Brands Inc. umbrella of questionable food choices. The Yum Brands Inc. includes such culinary atrocities as the greasy, understaffed Kentucky Fried Chicken, the nauseating Long John Silver's, and the E. coli haven Taco Bell.

Magpies Pizza delights the palate with their heavenly regular, scrumptious sourdough, and healthy wheat crusts to which cheese and herbs can be added. Sauces that can be added to the hand tossed crust at Magpies Pizza include the refreshing "House" pesto, the tantalizing spicy "Juan Carlos" pesto, the delicious tomato pesto, the uncompromising "House" red sauce and the simple yet satisfying olive oil and garlic. Pizza Hut disappoints with a choice of cardboard, thinner cardboard, undercooked biscuit dough, and undercooked biscuit dough with chunks of cheese crusts. The only sauce available at Pizza Hut is an overly sweet, conformist red tomato sauce.

Cheese is lovingly and generously applied at Magpies Pizza. Gooey mozzarella, fragrant feta, creamy ricotta, and hearty cheddar among others clamor for mastication. Light, soy or no cheese is an option for dietary concerns. Pizza Hut has a waxy cheese that employees take great care to distribute in the smallest possible portions. Ordering extra cheese is the only sure-fire way to have the entire pizza dusted with the cheese.

Magpies Pizza serves slices made to satiate Paul Bunya which take mozzarella cheese to a height normally reserved for the perfect grilled cheese sandwich. Pizza Hut serves personal pan pizzas that leave a toddler hungry cut into four triangular pieces. One of the four pieces will have all the cheese; the other three have only the doughy crust and the bright red sauce. These three pieces are reminiscent of used surgical sponges.

Magpies Pizza keeps a staff of happy, intelligent, caring individuals. Their dining rooms are cozy and brightly lit. Some locations feature butcher paper and crayons on the tables. Children and artistic adults have their tablecloth creations proudly displayed by the window in which the pizza dough can be seen being handmade. Pizza Hut keeps a staff of depressed mannequins on valium. Pizza Hut dining rooms are ten percent brighter than an underground cavern and have the atmosphere of a funeral for the guy in the office no one really liked. Children are occasionally tolerated by the wait staff. The kitchen is well secluded in an attempt to hide their gastronomical gaffes.

Saving ten box tops from Magpies Pizza will earn a free large pizza. The pizza toppings include over forty, mouthwatering, gourmet choices including squash, zucchini, and eggplant. Any pizza with that many vegetables qualifies as health food. Vegetarian choices abound. Saving ten box tops from Pizza Hut will earn an unfortunate smell in the house. A vegetarian must use care when ordering since the same cooking surfaces, utensils, and oils are often used for both meat and non-meat items as disclosed in the allergen information section on their website.

Delectable, robust calzones tantalize the taste buds year round at Magpies Pizza. Paired with any of the enticing sauces, or on their own, these pieces of heaven offer a suitable alternative to pizza that gets the filling to crust ratio exactly right. It feeds a small army or one hungry teenager. Calzones are occasionally proffered at Pizza Hut in two varieties; burnt and tasteless or doughy with sweat sock filling.

Ambrosial desserts can be had at Magpies Pizza. Sinfully creamy cheesecake, decadent tiramisu, scrumptious cinnamon swirls, and the heavenly almond cream cake all plead to be devoured. These homemade treats are worth an extra thirty minutes at the gym. Pizza hut offers baked cinnamon sticks. These "sticks" are basically their pizza dough formed into bread sticks, drowned in butter and suffocated with cinnamon, then baked in the same oven as the unsavory pizza which leaves them with an unappetizing aroma of cinnamon dusted pepperoni.

Ordering from Pizza Hut, available nationwide, guarantees the same tasting pizza whether in New York or California. Ordering from Magpies Pizza, available only in Tucson, guarantees a great tasting pizza.

Old essay

This is from way back (April of 2008!) and it's the first draft of a finished essay that I can't find. I know I changed the Barney line but I don't remember to what or what else I changed.


I've deleted the first draft because I realised the only differences in the final draft was the removal of the torture/barney line and the addition of the last paragraph.

Monday, July 20, 2009

Self Betrayal

Your voice fills my heart
In a way I never thought
Would be possible
Your words mean more
To me than any other words
Ever have
My logical brain shuts off
My emotions take over all
Things concerning you
I find myself smiling
And hating myself for it
I do not like
Not being in control
I am not some silly
Schoolgirl seduced by your
Poetry and finding
A soul mate in your verse
Yet I am drawn to you
Even though I find fault
In your words, my heart
Still leaps at the
Sound of your voice

Almost Love

We sat on the beach and I asked you what kitchy coo means.
You looked at me and laughed.
What a great song that would make you told me.
We waited for the sun to rise over the lake.
We sat side by side, neither brave enough to make a move towards the other.
The sun emerged from the water as you rose from the sand
You offered me your hand.
A ray illuminated your cheek as we walked towards the train.
We had a conversation that would soon be forgotten
On a morning that never would be.
Your stop came too soon and we parted
With a gentle kiss that would never be repeated

Saturday, July 18, 2009

I hate Glinda

I've never been particullary fond of The Wizard of Oz. The flying monkeys didn't scare me, even though I questioned their fashion sense (Why dress like bell hops?), they seemed kind of cool. The Wicked Witch seemed ok, she just wanted her sister's shoes back from the girl who killed her. I hated the way the movie dismissed Dorothy killing the Witch of the East. Even Gregory Maquire wrote both slayings as accidents. Okay, so I'm rambling, but the point I'm trying to make is that I don't like the Wizard of Oz. Not the movie and not the books.

I especially loathe Glinda. Maybe it's because I was never particularly girly or into frilly things. Maybe it was the blonde curls (I have blonde hair when I don't dye it, but much to my mother's frustration, I could never hold a curl) or the garish makeup. Maybe it's because she was portrayed as the Good Witch even though we have no proof of her goodness other than the Munchkins like her and she knows the way to the Wizard. She is still referred to as a Good Witch even though she sent Dorothy on an extremely dangerous journey that was completely useless. She robbed the so called Wicked Witch of her sister's shoes and who knows what she does with those Munchkins when the cameras are off.

I probably had a point when I started this post, but I have no idea what it might be besides I hate Glinda

Sunday, July 12, 2009

New Poem

I don't have a title for it because the only one I can think of is a bad word that is sometimes used to refer to a feminine cur. So, I'll leave it untittled for now. So here's my crappy poem, feel free to pick it apart :)


I am without emotion
No sadness, no gladness
I feel nothing
I am stone
No shard of love
Can enter my heart
I destroy those
Who try to care
They mean nothing
They are nothing
But mere distractions
Something to play with
Until I find my next toy

Hall of Evils

I don't like malls, never have and probably never will but since they are sometimes unavoidable, they should be fun. I have done some of the list below, but not all and I must warn you that several suggestions can lead to you being kicked out of the mall and possibly banned. Number one got me kicked out of a suburban Illinois mall and it's fairly tame.

Ways to have fun at the mall

1. Go up the down escalator and down the up escalator.

2. Have long talks with the mannequins. Extra points if you give them names, minus points if it’s the Old Navy mannequins.

3. Buy something at the food court, take a bite and throw it away, saying loudly “it’s not as good as human flesh.”

4. Dress like a Goth and carry signs protesting Emos in front of Hot Topic.

5. Wear a gorilla outfit and give random strangers singing telegrams that imply they may have contracted a venereal disease.

6. Sit on a bench and pretend to be driving it somewhere, if someone stares, ask if they need a lift.

7. Call out for your friend Harvey. If anyone offers to help you find Harvey, describe him as 6 foot tall and furry. (I love Jimmy Stewart movies.)

8. If there’s an elevator, get in at stare at the back wall (unless it’s a glass elevator, then stare at the buttons intensely) and don’t get off for at least half an hour.

9. Find an Emo and tell them to cheer up. Extra points if you sing them a happy song.

10. Ask people for directions to the store behind you. For example if you’re in front of Macy’s, ask “where’s Macy’s?” When they tell you it’s behind you, reply, “No, Macy’s” as if they’re mistaken.

11. During the seasonal picture opportunities, bring a doll or stuffed animal and insist they take a picture of Santa/Easter Bunny holding your “baby.”

12. Find an old person and start a conversation with them making sure at least half of your sentences start with “when I was your age.”

13. Get a group and play land Marco Polo. (One of my favorite games to play anywhere.)

14. Bring a children’s book and do a story time in the food court, reading out loud and showing the pictures. Bonus points if there are no children present. Super bonus points if you can get anyone to pay attention.

Friday, July 10, 2009

Random thought of the day

Spam and follow-bots, are they unavoidable evils of the internet or part of a master plan to take over the world? The reason we have them is because someone responds to them. If no one ever responded to them, they would go away. So the question is who responds to them? Idiots? Perhaps, or maybe there is an evil genius who has his henchmen respond to just enough of them to encourage more spam and follow-bots. How will this help him take over the world? Simple, the rest of us will be so busy deleting spam and blocking the bots, we won’t notice it when he pulls off the rest of his ingenious plan.
Just a note – I used he because it is grammatically correct when dealing with an unknown gender, but it could easily be a she with henchwomen.
Top Ten Lists
Okay, these are pretty old, but I don’t think it hurts to post them here.
The first one is from December 2008. I actually printed out a copy for my Writing 102 (she was also my Writing 101) teacher and gave it to her on the last day of class.

Top Ten Signs Your Teacher Might Not Be Qualified

1. It takes him five minutes to write his name. His name? Dan Smith
2. She fondles the smart board and calls it “Ed”
3. He asks all the females in low cut shirts to sit up front so he “can get a better look at all the sweater puppies.”
4. She gives a fifteen minute lecture on the European artists of the early nineteenth century and it’s an algebra class.
5. He asks, in class, “where my hos at?”
6. She asks if anyone is interested in a key party.
7. He forgets his pants and wears a bowler hat. Bowler hats are evil.
8. She tells everyone they’ll get the grade the voices tell her to give.
9. He asks if anyone has some downers because he’s been up for three days “and the ceiling is starting to melt”
10. She has all the boys drop their pants, turn their heads, and cough.

The second one is far older. It’s from July of 2008. Yep, it’s a year old. Just to clarify, I do not recommend actually trying any of the following suggestions unless you really want bad service and I’m not responsible for any legal trouble you may find yourself in for trying them.

How to guarantee bad service at a restuarant

Tired of getting good and attentive service at restaurants? Sick of waitstaff who refill your glasses before you can think to ask and always bring the little extras? Follow these guidelines and you will be guaranteed bad service!

1. Ask the server’s name at least twice when she greets you, then refer to her as “Hon” the rest of the meal. This is especially effective with a male diner/female server combination. Use cautiously with a female diner/male server combination as it can lead to the server’s phone number being written on your check.
2. Ask the server if he has ever been on “Cops”
3. In parties of three of more, vary the amount of ice in each drink order. Diner A gets no ice, diner B gets little ice, diner C gets extra ice.
4. Switch seats every time the server leaves and complain loudly if you are given the wrong drink or food.
5. Tell your server she reminds you of the before pictures in the Jenny Craig, Slimfast or Proactive ad.
6. Ask your server if he can go TacoBell/McDonalds/BurgerKing for you.
7. Casually mention when the server asks you how everything is that your chicken is drier than the human flesh you had last night. (Do not use this tip in a restaurant that police are likely to dine at since they tend to frown upon cannabilism)
8. Bring your own food.
9. Ask how every menu item is prepared …including salads and drinks.
10. If you have a female server, ask her if she is menstrating. If you have a male server, ask him what it is like to be a eunuch.