Wednesday, April 30, 2003

Grr Arrgh
Things That Annoy Me. (Work Related).

You told me it wasn't in your office and it must be in mine. So I looked. Through. Every. Piece .Of. Paper. I. Own. Thousands of sheets of paper. And Did not Find it. Panic ensued. Only to find out you found it in YOUR OFFICE forty-five minutes ago and didn't tell me and wasn't going to. You "forgot" and I had work related stroke number 143.

Addendum - I am not Santa and this is not Christmas. Just because you want a stapler does not mean you can have mine. This goes for sticky notes and binder clips as well. And in this vein, if I am in your office and happen to be using something of yours, standing at my elbow and whimpering that you want your thing back does not facilitate the thing getting back to you. It makes me want to steal it. And I will.

I'm sorry your child is contagious and can't go to daycare. I am not a babysitter or your nanny. Please do not leave your child in my office, I have work to do. Corporate Day Care is not something we offer and I am not a childcare provider. Thank you in advance for your Childs contagion.

Addendum - Yes, I have toys in my office. No, I do not have children. The toys are mine. Sue me. It does not mean my office is the official toy chest. If you want a toy go and get one, Happy Meals and their ilk run about $2.25.

Please feel free to call me and request whatever you need I don't have anything better then to look things up for you. I get paid to do your work and mine. Check my job description, I have it posted on my door.

Addendum - Did you see Office Space? I live this movie. I can't keep track of everyone who actually can tell me what to do. I can however keep track of who cannot.

Send all calls my way. I am omnipotent. And psychic. And have nothing else to do.

Addendum - You can't help them? Okay. I can't either. Don't send the all ready-thwarted caller to me. I know less and am less qualified then you are. Of course I am the right person to deal with this. Bonus points if the caller is all ready in tears.

I know how hard it is to walk the 30 yards to my office. Sure, I can bring it to you. I don't have anything else to do.

Addendum - Catching me in the hall and verbally giving me a request isn't good enough. If you can walk out to a smoke break, you can walk to my office. Don't cough on me, either.

You don't want to dig through that whole bin, why not just bring it to my office. You shouldn't have to kneel on the hard floor and look for the packet.

Addendum - While the desire to clean out your office is laudable, it does not give you license to junk up mine. Getting it off your desk does not mean "put it on mine", and if you can't identity what "that" is, why should I. I'm a file clerk not a CSI.

The rules apply to everyone. You are everyone. The rules apply to you.

Addendum - I didn't write them. They were here when I got here. When there are no rules, there is chaos, in chaos things get lost, if things get lost you can't have them and that would be bad.

You got a promotion. The rules apply to you too.

Addendum - You remember those things you used to do? You still do them.

If you needed it for tomorrow, you cannot demand it today. Your lack of planning does not constitute an emergency on my part.

Addendum - I may sound all concerned and sympathetic? I'm not.

If I moved heaven and hell to get whatever it was for you, please don't just hand it back to me and tell me you didn't need it anyway. Lie To Me.

Addendum - You needed this now. You were frantic. I was all concerned and sympatric? But wasn't? I still did it. Lie to me about it now.

Also, stop drilling under my office and jack hammering under my window. Thanks. The Chiller works, I'm freezing. Go home now

Tuesday, April 29, 2003

Have they Got a Deal For Me

Lets check the mailbag shall we?

According the mass mailers my screen name is male and horney . My box is always full of missives such as:

Introducing Doctor Formulated HGH - This miracle product will make me taller, smarter, and younger and somehow cause my penis to get bigger. I am a woman, so this product is amazing.

Voila de novellas photos et des novellas videos - I will learn French.

. «ö¤ë¤J±b®I¼Æ : ¥N«È½s»sDz¼¡B}¦, - I will also speak gibberish.

All New Digital descramblers - Actually, about penis enlargment.

Revolutionary SEXUAL PERFORMANCE ENHANCER, - Speaks for itself.

RX Pharmacy is a professional, responsible and secure online service offering patients all throughout the world easy, discreet access - Should I be too embarrassed to go to the drug store for Doctor Formulated HGH.

I just noticed. As a woman I have been programmed to be suspicious of my body. It is too fat, too flat; too flabby… none of the mass mailing are about me. No mail order feminine hygiene. No herbal birth control, no magic bras or tush lifters, nothing to make my pores smaller my eyes bigger or my chest more chesty, Why? No adds for sexual enhancements for me? All the sex ads came with graphics detailing how fab my penis will be and the tricks I can teach it. Nothing for my genitalia? I feel left out.

And amazing not everything is about my needs; I have friends who have more material needs, so -

You can save 20% NOW On GREAT gift ideas and much much more. Glass Dragons and more, Patchwork animals.

And of course the Grand Daddy of them all - The Nigerian bank issue. In this case, his daughter.

Miss. Julia SAVIMBI -

Let me read from you soon so that we can ascertain the next step to take. Also include in your return mail, your private fax so that I can contact you and send to you some deposit evidence. Issued to my late father by the Security firm during the deposit.

There are ways of avoid this mess. You can go to the bottom of the post and tell them to stop sending you this crap IF they make that available. Bastards.

And when I run out of spam from strangers I get spammed by my friends. I hate chain letters. Back in day I received a chain letter through snail mail. I read it, burned it, and sent it back. No more chain mail.

Now I get thinly veiled threats.

SOMETHING FANTASTIC WILL HAPPEN TO YOU IN THE NEXT FEW HOURS. Be sure to send it back to the person who sent it to you! Then send it on to five other people, including the one who sent it to you. Within hours five people have prayed for you, and you caused a multitude of people to pray for other people. Then sit back and watch the power of God work in your life.

P. S.Five is good, but more is better Please do NOT let this petition stop and lose all these names. If you do not want to sign it, please forward it to everyone you know. Thank you!!! Send this to all of your friends! But - you HAVE to send this within 1 hour from when you open it!

Guess what? I deleted the names! I didn't turn around and spam my friends! Shocking. Whatever shall we do? I wish there was a way to burn this crap and send it back. It worked for me once.

RE : Your Spam

Dear Friend,

Love you, but send this mail box filler to me again and you will need everyone you know to pray for you, there will be nothing fantastic happening for you. Pepsi/Proctor and Gamble/The Great THEY will grow stronger, In God We Trust will disappear from our lexicon our money and possibly the heavens and the prayer chain will be broken: As a result your penis will wither, you roof will fall in and your dog will take ill.

Love and God Bless!

So not only am I responsible for a lack of fantastic, I didn' t pray for a multitude of people. I have a giant penis that doesn't work. Someday there will be enough women on line (if there isn't all ready) and I too will be marketed too, until that time I will have to stuff my bra with glass dragons and patchwork animals. Pity me.

Monday, April 28, 2003

Phantoms of the Avenue

Happy Monday!! Is everyone glad to back at work?

I miss the weekend already. I get so much more done. This weekend for example I:

Cleaned the kitchen
Walked the dog three times
Explored the historical district
Uploaded a one act
Mowed my lawn
Saw Phantom of The Opera

In Two days. I won't get that much accomplished until next weekend. During the week if I can get the dishwasher emptied and the animals fed, I feel like I deserve a medal.

I kicked list butt despite the fact it poured all day Saturday. Thunder and Lightening, scary house falling noise from next door. And I still walked the dog twice. Parts of this I credit the Kitty with as he decided that I really needed to be awake at six thirty in the morning, on a Saturday.

There is nothing on television at six thirty on Saturday. Dog got a nice walk and I discovered the Historical District. Block after block of dollhouses and flowering plants. Lovely.

I cleaned the kitchen, because there is nothing on television at nine thirty either.

Uploading is both tedious and eye opening. There is nothing on television and there is an electrical storm brewing. I got a new magazine and I'm going to read it.

Okay. Rain, rain go away. Go away now buh bye. Damn it.

During a brief break in the rain on Saturday, Daisy and I visited with a fellow walker.. He displayed the one personality trait that allows me to speak to people I don't know - a naked fear of the Big Dog. Nothing says respect like cowering. The fact that he is shorter then I am and weighed less, also was in his favor, sue me, I'm a sizest. He was looking for a church that the preacher didn't drive a 65 thousand dollar car.

Sunday, I spoke to two different street talkers. I changed my route for Daisy walking. I have two routes, the Rec Center route and the Post Office route. I do the Rec Center every evening with dogger because it's quite and there are few dogs to contend with. There are no street talkers on this route.

There is also no historical district or handy mailboxes on this route.

So. I can do the Post Office route one of two ways. The boring, business route with two many cars and too little pretty or the pretty residental route with fewer cars but too many Street talkers

There are people on the boring business route, but they are Front Porch People. They have their own Big Dogs. The porch people do not cower. We exchange compliments about our respective Big Dogs.

Like many pretty things, the pretty route has hidden thorns. Junky thorns. Shaky, babbling, stinky, depressing thorns. With Stories.

"I got robbed the other day, over in that field. I got stabbed twice. And kicked. I had thirty dollars in my pocket. They didn't have to kick me".

Please don't be talking to me.

"I had two hounded dollars in my shoe"

Talking to me. Damn.

At least they didn't get that. They are bad people. They will get theirs. Keep walking. Be Big, Daisy.

"I was on drugs. I know how it goes, never had to rob anyone for it, knock on wood. I was born and raised in Germany. I graduated from State College back in 1988"; I lived in D.C, Philly. Never happened to me there.

This place fools you. God Bless, bye bye. Okay, still talking. Not Listening.

Daisy takes a seat and looks at her. She has been dismissed.

"Miss, do you have any change".


"I'm sorry to have to ask you"

So am I.

Not everyone is scared of the Big Dog. Little people go nose to wet nose with her and embrace her.

"My house has a dog too"

What kind?

" Pitt bull"

Really, my neighbor does too, they have puppies.

"We're going to have puppies when my daddy get out of jail"

Ow.Cute little things have thorns too.

Sunday, April 27, 2003

Happy Sunday

Saturday, April 26, 2003

Happy Saturday!!!

Friday, April 25, 2003

Out Wal-sMarted

I have to bring paper plates to an office birthday party. I went to my grocery store but they must have hid them somewhere I don't frequent, like the produce section, because I couldn't find them.

Don't look at me like that. We have a Farmers Market in town and I don't have to buy corporate produce. Damn the Man.

So I still need the plates. No plate -y no cake-y and I like cake-y. So. Wal-Mart

I hate Wal-Mart. Employee exploiting, vender black mailing, and alleged destroyer of Mom and Pop enterprise, small town killing Wal-Mart. I Hate Wal-Mart.

Welcome To Wal-Mart!
Welcome, welcome, welcome!
Here's a circular! Welcome, welcome, welcome!

Drop Dead. You're a thousand years old and you're wearing Jazz Shoes I don't need a circular I need a map. I need birthday themed paper plates. Just direct me to the paper plates and show me the express line, eight items or less

There is no Express Line. No one has ever made it out of a Wal-Mart with less then ten items.

Okay. No map. I'm on my own. Except for my Happy Face. Everyone is happy at Wal-Mart! Even the price tags are happy.

Where are the paper products?

Look! Cute spring outfits!

No. I don't want cute spring outfits. I really do not need cute spring outfits from Wal-Mart. I want paper plates.

Your last year's clothes are worn out and I bet they don't fit. Cute Spring Clothes!

Ya know, I think I'll stick to my sweats. Thanks

Not fitting in that they are too big! You've lost weight! Pink baby Tees!

No. Paper Plates only.

With Sparkles!


Purse, you need a spring purse! Yes you do! It's a Rite of Spring!

No, awww, that's so cute. No. Wait God. Where am I? paperplatespaperplatespaperplates

Look! Film!

I don't need film. I just bought film.

On Sale!


Decorative Plastic Cups!

I love decorative plastic cups! Lemme see.

Beach scenes

I want to go to the beach; these would be so cute! And they're reduced! Okay. These and just these. No More.

Flower vases! pretty, pretty, pretty!

No, the cat has enough toys and as it is. I'm going to have to mow the carpet. Paper Plates.

Fruit Bowls!

I don't eat fruit.


Stop it! I have a book. I don't need more paperbacks. I have dog manuals to read that I'm all ready not reading.

Picture Frames

Where? I need some. No, I don't. No. These are all 5x7.

Didn't you get some nice flower pictures back? Wouldn't they look nice in one of these?

No, No they wouldn't.

Table Lamps!

No. Dogger has her toys covered too. Paper Plates.

DVDs!!!! On Sale!!!

Damn You!

Pretty In Pink! The Breakfast Club! Some Kind of Wonderful!

I have them on Tape Damn It. My VCR, both my VCRs work just fine. Back Godless Yellow Demon! I don't need these cups either! Ah Ha! Paper Plates. We're grown ups I don't need Birthday Themed. Okay. Eleventyteen different kinds of paper plates. I am in disposable hell. Big plates? Plates with sections? Little tiny plates. Heavyweight, lightweight. , Made with recycled products, plastic coated, cardboard, decorative borders...

Finally decided on paper plate Varity. On the Road.

Sheet Sets! Flannel Sheets! On sale!

No. I must resist…


No! No I'm poor, I'm broke! I have plenty of sheets at home. Old, worn out last years sheets… No. I came I saw I conquered. I am on a mission. Mission accomplished!

Now that I have the smiley off my back I need the check out. Not toys not tires not paint. Where are the damn checkouts? Was that moss on that pole? North side? Up in the rafters, a sparrow, could that mean that there is a door somewhere close by? The doors are by the check out!

People I hear people! I must be close.

Oh. God. The lines are so long.

Wait in Line.
Wait in Line
Wait In Line.

Finally to the front. Price Check.


Forget why I am here.
Forget what I came for.
Forget why I am standing up.

People in crowds smell. This place smells. The muzak is deadly. I'm so glad Wal-Mart is glad it is an American.

As I leave the Wal-Mart, they check my bag to make sure I haven't stolen anything between the check out and the door.

Thank You for Shopping Wal-Mart!
Thank You for Shopping Wal-Mart
Thank You for Shopping Wal-Mart

Damned by the Man.

Thursday, April 24, 2003

Music to My Ears

I was going through a box of old tapes, audiotapes. I was the last person inAmerica and possibly the West, still buying them. I didn’t have a CD player that was not attached to my computer until last Christmas. Yes, pity me. And the tape player in my car worked fine. Emphasis on worked, as in no longer working. As in stuck in a bad radio town with no alternates to the suck.

So I have all these tapes. And after looking at them, I have never met a sound track that I didn’t like.

Repo Man – Did I even see this movie? The Sheen brothers as guys with real jobs? Did one of them write it? It’s not even an original tape. It’s a copy. Did I want it so much that I taped it off some one? Scary.

Saturday Mornings, Cartoons Greatest Hits – I needed a tarted up version of the Popeye Theme? Did you know that the Ramones did a version of Stop That Pigeon!

Sister Act 1 and 2 – Choral music is the bomb? I'm a completest and I can't stop myself?

Hiding Out – The cover art features Jon Cryer. Left over Ducky love?

White Knights – Ballet and the Cold War. Not a bad sound track if you’re stuck in a car for three days with your family and it’s you and your Walkman against the world.

Xanadu – I was very young then. It had roller-skating.

Northern Exposure – Not one but two compilation tapes. Chris in the Morning played some good music.

Working Girl - I was in a Carly Simon place.

Dick Tracy – Madonna. Whatever.

After too many bad songs from bad movies I moved on to instrumentals

Schindlers List – I can’t imagine I listened to this. The names of the pieces are enough to make me cry, “Krakow Ghetto – Winter ‘41” “Auschwitz-Birkenau”.

Dead Poet Society – John Williams is a god. This is really a compilation of scores. Williams is the genius behind the Barn Raising music in Witness.

Jurassic Park – Loud but good. Does its job. You can follow the progress of the movie with out the pictures to guide you.

Bodies, Rest & Motion - It’s better then it sounds. Shut Up.

At the bottom of the pile we have the Great Shame. I own an Emo Phillips tape. And Bobcat Goldthwait . In my defense I also have Richard Pryor and pre-schmaltz Robin Williams.

The CD collection is young but I all ready have three Partridge Family albums and something by the Benzedrine Monks, which turns out to be a Gregorian chant cover band.

Listening to – Come on Up To The Rising, Bruce Springsteen. I’m branching out.

While I was rummaging through boxes yesterday I came across copies of scripts I wrote, if I posted these, would anyone be interested in reading them? Anyone? Anyone.

Okay, just me and the Crickets

Wednesday, April 23, 2003

Does my act look fat?

I was going through some papers and I ran across the text to my "act" that I did for stand up a thousand years ago. I did some editing of the original, as there were parts that didn't work then and still didn't today. There were some other sections that became some what dated. Or embarressed me. I also changed the tense used.

Let me tell you a little about myself. I am the only person turned down for employment at burger King due to over qualification. At least it was original. Most places saw two years at a Jack In The Box as a lack of ambition on my part. I saw it has doctoral work for my fast food PhD. I finally did get a job; I worked at a movie theatre.

Sound like fun? For about a week. It was a great job for people watching. Watching people be dumb. People waited in line for like a year. I didn't care I was always at the front of the line. And so all the time they had to stand in line they stared at the menu - it's wasn't our menu. The first thing they would do is order something we didn't have - like spaghetti or something with a shelf life of under three years and after they did decided on something we did have, they couldn't find their money. I always got the lady with the "Oh, just one second, I'm sure I have exact change" bullshit. She would stand their for twenty minutes going through her purse, other wise known as the national archives and she has all her shit all over my counter and no exact change. At this point she would cheerfully hand me a twenty. I learned to hate people.

I worked at a very high-class movie theatre. When customers approach the concession they asked for our wine list. We didn't serve alcohol, but any chance to whine at people paying more for popcorn they I made an hour. ( No kidding. One of the guys figured out that we would all have to work 90 hours a week every week to just met the Federal poverty level. My friends at school worked Summer Stock while I worked at a Movie Industry gulog)

While I was in college I lived in the dorms. When my last roommate moved out she took the refrigerator, the TV, my Boyfriend. She did not take the answering machine. She claimed I would clash with her new roommates color scheme. I gave the obscene callers someone to talk to. It beat my real social life all to hell.( I had eight room mates in the three years I was dormbound. Bu number eight I didn't bother to learn their names anymore. They became explainations " Borrows stuff with out asking", Dates the Rugby Team", Does Not Speak English"

When you are seeing someone your girl friends do not want to here about what a good guy he is. No one exchanges "my boyfriend is so wonderful because" stories. It's all about what a bitch his last girl friend is, how awful his friends are, how high his bail was…
I was seeing this guy, I saw him playing with his computer. If the relationship had been a move it would have been Nightmare on Elm Street part Duh - Jason Got an IBM! ( I gave him such grief, I spend more time on the computer now then he ever did)

Do you remember when they were programming cars that "talked" to you? Do you think when they made them for deaf people that they came with a guy who signed for them? "Fasten Your Seat belt", "your lights are on", " that asshole just cut you off" ( this worked better in front of a audience)

You know what I want? I want to be a character on a soap opera. I want to wake up looking like I've spent hours in hair and makeup. I want to be a high-powered executive at a job I never have to show up to or work at. I kind of like the idea of children leaving the room until they're old enough for their own plot lines ...can't you just see it. Sitting by the pool reminiscing about teaching little Cousin Timmy to swim at this very pool not so long ago, like last weekend and you spot the hunky new life guard. Minutes later when you and hunky life guard have slunk away behind the cabaña and just as you're about to check out each others tan lines... ( the score swells darkly in the background) - "Aunt Fedora! " "Timmy" you rush away, trip, crack your head open and wake up several weeks later as a different actress ( who has spent ours in hair and makeup). You see Timmy, now 29 and chief of Comotology at Lakeriver Bay General Memorial Community and he is introduceing you to your log lost daughter, sullen teen Blue Bell. Life is good.

Tuesday, April 22, 2003

Signs of The Times

I love signs. Not Mel Gibson Signs. Posted notices. I collect pictures of interesting signs. You see Children Playing signs everyday, how often do you see an Old Person Crossing?, if you live outside London, at least once. Signs trumpeting that this group is proud to be Athletic Supporters! a street sign warning of Up Coming Undulations. I drove past a Duckling Crossing for years. On vacation I saw a sign alerting motorists that a Blind Person Lives Here on the street and to be careful.

Today I saw a sign waring that the metal play equipment can get hot in the sun. Down the street from me is a building that rents to a couple of Bail Bonds services. One is "Getumout" and the other is "Latin Princess". I understand Getumout, but what is Latin Princess about? do you genuflect in front of a Jennifer Lopez poster before you get your money? and why is a Latin Princess bailing anyone out? a real Princess would tell you that if La Vida was getting too Loca, that you need to get stepping.

Which leads me to my favorite posted notice. The "How To Answer the Phone" notice that is taped above the good copy machine.

How To Answer the Phone. It's not rocket science. The job even sent us all to a two hour semniar and phone etiquette . My old job inserviced us on it about three times a year. And yet the other day my favorite secretary asked a caller "What is your problem and why are you calling us? is this about a Psychiatric Hospital? "

The sign at work is very clear :

Have pen and pencil at hand - Fine, I think we can agree that we want to be able to write down callers information. It does not specifically prohibition red marker on the back of a personal receipt, written in that short hand you created yourself... maybe they will call back. We have voice mail anyway. The next time she calls she can talk to the phone.

Answer the phone on the first ring - again fine, if you're at your desk, If you're one of the secretaries at my office this is a challenge. I may be at my desk. but what if one of the other ladies wants this call? what if it is for one of them? just sit there and listen to it ring until you have satisfied yourself that no one else is going to answer. And when you do answer, be sure to let the caller know that someone else should have had to answer it. You are eating breakfast.

Give callers the option of leaving voice mail or calling back - Or you could use the most popular option. You can pageover the speaker system at the top of your voice so that everyone in the building knows that "Mary" has a call. There are only six women named "Mary" in the building. Be diligent, if you can't find the right "Mary" just send the call to a "Mary". Failing any alternate Mary's to foist the call on, send it ME. I love getting barked at by callers because I am not Mary, they have been on hold for ten minutes and I'm not able to answer their question.

Thank the caller for holding - before they get mad and hang up and call back and start the whole merry ride again.

Don't take irate callers personally - After awhile you don't mind being accused of being in league with the devil at all.

Monday, April 21, 2003

TV Guided

FCC chairman Newton Minow said in 1961 said that TV programming was a vast wasteland. He hadn't even had a chance to see "Fear Factor"

Reality Television and Rupert Murdock have laid waste to the television landscape. This is true and I am always right, this is my blog and it is all me all the time. This is me ranting.

I have learned things in the wasteland. I watched the first man walk on the moon, I watched the Watergate Hearings, I watched the Shuttle blow up. Twice. I watched tragedy. I also saw the little girl get pulled from that well, I watched the Berlin Wall come down. I watched Lady Diana marry Prince Charles. I watched a little gymnast get a gold medal on a hurt foot. Though TV, I have shared cultural mile stones with not just those around me but everyone, everywhere with a TV. I am grateful for this.

This has given me shared experiences to talk about with people from all over the world. I can go to a forum and ask what folks remember about a given event and get responses from regions I would not have guessed would have even heard about the incident.

Part of it I am sure is the reach of our media and the sweep of our glitzy, Made for TV culture that has been cultivated by The Powers That Be for foreign consumption. We’re richer, stronger, taller and better dressed. At the same time we’re not as educated, literate, or politically involved as our European brethren. It Doesn’t Matter, we are over paid, over sexed and over there. We are always going to be the prettiest girl at the party and everyone is always going to want to dance with us.

The media has done such a good job at spreading the word about our fabulous – ness, why are they always wrong?

Why is it that in portraying the huge cultural diversity that is our nation for public consumption that we have been whittled down to a few wildly offensive “types”.

On the East Coast, usually portrayed by New York City, everyone is either 1.) Irish Catholic or 2.) Jewish. There are no Protestants on the City. You are either a cop or a lawyer. You are a drunk/ an addict, or you where in the past a/n drunk/addict or well on your way to being a/n drunk/addict in the future. You followed in your fathers foot steps even if you really didn’t want to, or your Old Man swept the lobby of the building you now own. Rich people are intrinsically evil unless they were once poor in which case while Rich they are now really good at heart. Everyone regardless of their wealth, is educated. Even the street
people quote Shakespeare .

If you have the bad luck to be in the South you are 1.) Dirt poor, with three teeth between you and your common law wife/cousin, you either work yourself to death in the fields or are chronically unemployed, you are a racist and probably handle snakes at church, you are Protestant There are no Jews or Catholics south of the Mason Dixon Line. You are still fighting the Civil War. Everyone no matter what region of the South that they live in talk like Elly Mae Clampett . You are poor but you really are not good at heart. Or 2.) Your Daddy is in oil or has never worked a day in his life and your Mother drinks and mean and has awful taste in clothing and home furnishings. You are just as stupid as your dirt poor
neighbors but your bad taste and self absorption have pulled you up out of the muck. You are racist and evil.

If you live in the Midwest you are good and pure . There is no choice one or two. You work from dawn to dusk in the fields or with the cows. You have flawless intentions. You live in a tiny town and rarely make it to the big city. You are not really well educated or curious about the world Podunk, Iowa. You are Protestant unless you are Catholic and there are no Jews in the Midwest. You go to Las Vegas to embarrass yourself and lose the egg money. You are the archetypal tourist . Even if you are evil, you are still good of heart.

And thanks to the cultural fire bombing that is Reality Television, these wildly inaccurate and insulting stereotypes are being given flesh and made real. But ultimately, it is not Rupert Murdock's fault, it is not the fault of the Reality TV producers and participants or even the Media Powers that Be - it is our fault for rewarding them for doing it. They are as responsible for the proliferation of these shows as Pavlov's dogs were for their mouths watering when the bell rang. We give them the ratings and they give us the slobber.

Sunday, April 20, 2003

Happy Easter

Saturday, April 19, 2003

The Truth about Cats and Dogs.

I was living the cliche - Single girl with a cat. But I got tired of the cliche, I wanted a dog. I went to the flea market every weekend for a year and stalked the puppy section and indulged in Puppy Porn. Big puppies, little puppies, short haired, long haired, floppy ears, pointy ears. Puppies! I tried very hard not to get into Pupperbation because once you start touching the puppies you may very well bring one home with you. To your tiny, second floor walk up and you cat. I was strong.

The apartment was tiny. The cat and I took turned getting on each othes nerves. I had no where to put stuff and the cat was all ready wearing a back pack... so no puppies. But, I kept thinking "puppies are leetle and squishy and have short puppy legs and round little puppy tummys.

I rationalized the puppy issues. My neighbors had dogs. Big Dogs. It worked for them. There was the three legged dog, there was someone with a herd of dachsunds.. it worked for them. Sigh. Then my next door neighbor brought home a Beagle Puppie. The cutest puppy ever. It hid behind blades of grass and peered at me with its big brown puppy eyes.

I began to walk my cat.

So, eventually I moved out of the apartment and into the house and as they say, In The Fullness Of Time, after all the puppy porn and beagle envy I fell for Daisy, the baby Huey of the dog world. Part Boxer part Retriver part Pony.

Her crate is bigger then my first dorm room. So far she has eaten : three allegedly hardy dog toys, four moving blankets, my TV remote control, two collars, a leash, a harness and several wires that led to my heat pump and were responsible for heating my house on the last two really cold days in spring. And she lusts after my hair squishys.

Something I have noticed in my time with Daisy, unlike Cats, Dogs do not play politics. I have not had to negotiate with Daisy. With Kitty everything is a discussion. Cats hold grudges. Several years ago I thought Kitty might want to play in the snow. This would have to be a big No. He came back in and glared at me for days while he tried to decide what my punishment should be.

He settled on pulling my videos of their shelf. At 3am. He didn't do it during the day. He waited until I was asleep and my down stairs neighbors were asleep. I had to remove the videos and box them up for him to finally stop. He was happy. I was grounded from watching movies.

Kitty learned that I would jump up and feed him if he knocked something off a shelf. Not plastics. Glass or ceramic only. If there was no chance of it shattering he didn't bother and he only when I was at home.

I think that someday someone will write a managment book based on the technics that cat facilitate. "Who Moved My Bowl", an instant best seller. Fluffy, Boo Boo Kitty and Patches will be the next Celebrity Managment Consultants. Many heads will roll under the refrigerator.

But you leave your cats for a weekend and as long as there is food, water and kitty litter in abundonce, Kitty is fine. To leave a dog for the weekend you must find a baby sitter. They don't feed, water, and take themselves outside with out assistance you know. Kitty smirks at this.

Daisy sat next to me in the bathroom while I was kneelling next to the toilet disposeing aff all the food I had eaten, ever. She sat there and whimpered with me. The Kitty change postistions on the couch.

Later on, Kitty provided white noise for me and was my very own perma warm mink hot water bottle.

Dogs offer devotion, Cats offer companionship.

Friday, April 18, 2003

Ms. Green Jeans

I mowed my yard last week. I mowed my own lawn. With my own lawn mower. I even got it started on my own. I thought this would be easy. My brother had yanked the cord and it started, first try. I could do that. I tried. Nothing. I tried again. Nothing. Thrid times the charm. Nothing. By this time I can see one of my neighbors out of the corner of my eye. He's waiting for me to give up so he can start the mower for his sad little neighbor girl, "look at her out there trying to turn the mower on, poor thing, I'll just get it started for her".

I would as soon die. The yard will never get mowed and I would apply for some sort of Wild Life Preserve status. It seems that getting the mower started requires some sort of upper body strength. I had neglected working on this in favor memorizing the location of the buttons on my various remote controls and archiving my Buffy The Vampire Slayer tapes.

I finally got the mower started, Vroooom. I actually do a dance of joy . My neighbor went back inside his house and I mowed. I rocked at this. It isn't that hard and it is all about instant gratification. How can people complain about this, this is fun! .

The house across the street is "For Sale By Owner", or more accurately "Abandoned and Left To Rot". I am tired of looking at it. I am Mower Woman! I will mow the yard. I am an involved member of the community! So I take the mower across the street and after too many tries, got it started. I get a few feet and the mower stops. Damn. The cord won't pull, hmmm. How do you reboot a Lawn Mower. After watching it not work for a few moments I tipped it over and unjamed the grass that has stopped it up... Onward Mower Woman! .

Fast foreward four or five more tiping, unjamming and repetive cord yanking . I begin to look at this as not fun . Working this hard for myself would be one thing and I don't even know these house abandoners. But I am doing it - Involved Member of the community and all that. All the time muttering about "People Who Just Expect Others To Do Their Work For Them. Take No responsiblity for their own things. If I Was Trying To Sell This House I Would Have Hired A Real Estate Person And Damn It If They Would Let It Get Like This. If They Really Wanted To Sell This Place They Would Take Better Care Of It. Grrrrr" Lather Rinse Repeat.

I couldn't even finish it. Too much tall grass. The mower and I ran out of gas. I ended up paying a lawn guy down the street five bucks to finish the last bit.

After my less then total lawn mowing domination. I wanted to make myself feel better, take on a less mechanical foe. I will plant things, I will give back to nature. I will go to Lowes and buy dirt! . Because Nature does not supply really good dirt. Regular dirt is not really up to the needs of todays modern flowers. It has too much dirt in it . 21st Century flowers like aftermarket extras - very into the Bling, bling. Like J.Lo - Flo.Lo

I get lucky at Lowes. I find some designer dirt in a torn bags. Score! .75 a bag! for $7.00 dirt!

The flowers were less interesting. I ended up getting a flat of Marigolds and Salvia and then off the Kmart for hopefully a different selction and chaper flats. The same selection, cheaper flats.

And I plant. This is work. And it's dirty work. Martha Stewert doesn't end up with dirty hands. I still have green hands from the mowing and now I have black nails. Ick. But I get it done and I get the pots arranged on the stoop and the others artfully arranged in a pattern. I rock. I look out my front door and my pretty lawn and pretty flowers and the much improved, albeit still abandoned house across the street and think - I am So Cool.

The next day there is a note on my door from the people selling the house across the street "Thank You for mowing my Mothers lawn". I am pond scum.

Thursday, April 17, 2003

I could be a point of Light!

Another day another chance to have a work related stroke. The wetlands application I filled out came back and said although my yard was a soupy mess it was not a big enough soupy mess. I knew I should have salted the place with baby turtles instead of grass seed.

I thought Department of Natural Resources "Call Us Deiner!" people might mistake Dogger for a deer but the cardboard antlers I ducked taped to her head fell off and she ate them. The whole spray painting the sparrows white and teaching them to walk on stilts, totally fooled no one into believing they were a here to for unknown indigenous crane species.

I may have free my neighbors customers from my shed where I have been teaching them to be a previously believed to be a eradicated indian tribe -yesterday they tried to plant microwave popcorn with fish sticks as fertilizer.

I'm afraid they have may have set up a trading post because they have both hootch and small pox. I had to take away their shot guns because I was afraid they would try to shoot the Doggalow.

Soon I'm going to have to send them to Oklahoma!, whether they dig musicals or not.

Wednesday, April 16, 2003

No Open Flame, really? Officer?

The drug dealers next door are in the front yard having a barbecue. I don't call the cops and I don't call the cops and I don't call the cops. I think I deserve a couple of ribs. Drug Dealing Barbecue Bastards.
Diana Jones Diary?

As soon as I say I'm not going to talk about what I'm going wear on a given day, I'm going to talk about what I am going to wear on a given day. Yesturday I started to get my stuff packed up for my weekend dog/house sitting gig. I had to decided on Tuesday what I would be wearing on Thursday. This was stressful, then after blowing my Clothes decision wad, I had to turn around and decided what I would wear today. This is a lot of clothing decisions for me. I also had to pull out my Easter Sunday Go to Mass In A Dress Dress.

Fortunatly I have an offical ESGTMIADD, so I just had to pull it out of the Archive closet. Which then led me to the Shoe Issue. In my current world I do not need nice shoes. I need shoes that don't hurt my feet when I kick cabnets and go with slacks. So I had to find my ESGTMIADD shoes, which I haven't seen since last Easter and possibly since I moved from Dallas. then after finding the Island of Unused shoes, I had to find a pair that was 1) a pair and 2) not ugly. Well I got one for two on that issue. I have a whole box of shoes I don't wear, or wore one time and they either didn't fit or were so outfit specific they can only be worn with the outfit and nothing else. I am such a smart shopper.Since I am the worst shoe shopper ever and an insult to my gender, all my shoes are worn out and so far out of style it will be seasons before they are so out they're in again.

Today after work I get to put dogger out feed dogger, put dogger out again, put dogger in box, race around getting her stuff packed ( toys, food, bowls, bones, blankets for box, leash) and the rest of my stuff that I could take yesturday because I would need it today. There is also the kitty to deal with. I need to get his box changed and loaded up, fill his bowls up and hope he doesn't get suspicious that I may be leaving him there by himself again. Then I have to get dogger in truck drive to the house put dogger away,put doggers attendent stuff away, take my crap inside and hope to make it to the couch before my show starts at 8pm.

Tuesday, April 15, 2003

You Know You are old when...

So I don't forget, when was the last time you heard a car back fire? I've heard it twice in the last 15 minutes. I thought they didn't do that anymore. It's one of those things that you either recognize or you don't. Gun shots do not sound like back fires. I'll stop these little notes.
Welcome to my Blogg. This is not a diary. There will be no entries discribing what I wore today, my weight at the given moment or what the weather is like. Unless its nessary to the plot- like gratuitous violence and nudity in a film with no plot and a bad script, but with a hotty actress and a trailor featuring explosions and fast cars.

Today I got an annoying forwarded email that bummed me and I had to ask for help from The Girl. Who then accused me of miss fileing something that wasn't even in my office yet. Silent but Evil did some hole punching for me while Miss Thing talked on her cell phone. I love my job.