Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts

Sunday, November 30, 2014

Why Selfies are Weird

I had to change one of my head shots tonight. I thought about taking a new one but I hate cell phone selfies. I don't know why but I can't bring myself to use a cell phone selfie on my blogs and other pages. I have used them but they're usually just terrible. Selfies are just...well, weird and there's no way I can say it any nicer.

They're everywhere, the people who take selfies. On street corners in Washington D.C. or Bangkok, China you will see them. They're easy to recognize. They're the ones standing at an odd angle, arms extended over their heads, making faces at the cell phone, which is held at an impossible angle and their heads canted awkwardly to get just the right look. Only it isn't.

I'm vain. I admit it. It is my biggest fault, aside from my tendency to tell the truth to unwilling victims listeners. No, my vanity is truly bad. I heard a joke once, long ago. A little girl asked her mother if it was vain of her to stand in front of the mirror and think about how pretty she was. The mother replied, "No, that's a delusion." No, I don't do that. I'm making a point. I'm vain.
Image courtesy of  stockimages
at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

It is my vanity that won't allow me to stand in public and contort my body and face just to take a photo that will look horrible. I mean it. It's just too tacky. But apparently, most people don't think so. I can only say, you should have someone else take a photo of you taking a selfie. It could change your life.

You may say that not all selfies are weird but I say name one. There are only a handful of types of selfies. They're very repetitive. The only thing that changes are the subjects and their various protuberances and apparel, which is another blog post entirely. Let's review.


1.  Duck lips: Really, does this need an explanation? I mean there have been videos, expose', slideshows, and blog post about how awful these look. But they keep making them! Did you really even look at those things before you put that up? Your mouth looks deformed and it isn't cute. No one, at least no one I ever knew, made that expression in real life. Seriously. When have you ever looked at your Mama and did that? Had you done so, she'd have slapped you silly. Rightfully so. Really, I don't think anyone but television hookers do that. Are you sure that's the image you're going for?

2. Close-up, really, really, really close up: Do you know how large your pores are? They look like a Florida sinkholes.--- What's those brown blotches on your face? Freckles? Really? --- Wow, I never realized how big your nose is. --- Gee, I never realized how many wrinkles you had! --- Oh......you had broccoli for lunch.

3. Downward angled shot: I took photography in college so I know that you can shave off age a bit by taking a photo from slightly above level. Overweight folks can slim their features a bit by looking up and using gravity. Older women can reduce the saggy neck in this manner and it does make a better photo. But good grief, you're 20. And a photo taken at an 130 degree angle makes it appear as if you're being attack by a vulture wearing a camera. He's probably after the duck.

4. Mirror,  Mirror: This has to be the golden fleece of all selfies. It often accompanies one or all of the above maneuvers. But think about this. Your head shot is an image of an image of you taking an image of yourself. Really. See, you had to think about that a second, didn't you. And that's weird. Then you add the duck lips.... down right freaky.

5. Location: Bathrooms seem to be the best (in someone's mind) location to take these cell phone selfies. Why? You should think about this. First, no one is looking at you. Take my word for it. They're looking at the room and comparing it to their own bath and thinking:  So, when did you clean that mirror last? Who is your decorator? You should fire them. Uh.... that outfit.... you've gained weight, right? Who's that peaking around the door?

I know there'll be some who think I'm wrong and that's o.k. You just keep doing what you're doing. It provides fodder for writers and comedians everywhere. I probably won't use it again but hey, it got me one post.

Now, I'm not an expert but here's some free advice for anyone planning on creating a new cell phone selfie head shot. First don't. They're horrible. Really horrible. Cell phone cameras are usually bad, I don't care how many mega pixels it has, they take terrible close ups and even worse if you have a flash. Unless you're going for the washed-out, demonic look.

Get a good camera, even computer webcams usually take better photos. Sit back from the camera. You can crop a photo if you want a lot of face in the shot but you can't reduce the same in a close up. If you must use a cell phone, do it outdoors, in good lighting.

Next, fix your hair, brush your teeth, put on something classy if clothes factor into the photo, and for heaven sake, don't poke your lips out. Try a smile. If that doesn't work for you, you can scowl. If you're really in a nasty mood you can snarl. If you want to look cool you can put the sunglasses on and keep your expression blank. Please try not to see if you can look at your own lips.

Use angles with restraint. Tilting the head too far over, looking too far up, looking too far down all do weird things to your face and probably don't help your spine. Experiment with slight angles. The beauty of digital is you can try multiple poses and examine multiple shots, then choose the best one. You can touch up the imperfections with photo software.

Oh, and one last thing. Get a real person to take your photo or get a tripod. Ditch the mirror. Really.

Thursday, May 15, 2014

It Came In the Mail

I stayed home today. Pain wasn't good, even the therapy Tuesday and Wednesday didn't help me. This morning, I was not feeling good and although I dressed, I had no energy to actually go to work. I have lain around all day. I even kept my work clothes on. I was too tired to care or maybe I thought I could eventually make it in. Anyway,  I went to sleep in the chair around noon, absolutely couldn't hold my head up any longer. What is up with this? Overwhelming need for sleep has become a common thing of late, along with this neck pain, and it is really interfering in my life. What is up with this?

After I woke up, I was sitting in my chair, reading. I heard someone talking as they approached the house. I paused and waited for the doorbell to ring and either a pair of Mormans or Jehovah's Witnesses to be smiling at me when I answered it. Nothing happened and the talking came onto the porch and then, with the same speed, drifted off and away. But there was a ruffling sound before that. Hmmm. Well, drat. I have to get up.

Opening the door I watched as the postman.....no, mailman.... no, mail carrier walked down the middle of the street, away from my house, talking on her cell phone. Really?

OK, I know it must be a really boring job but I happen to know they get paid very well. They get great benefits. They .... never mind. My point is there is a problem with the mail. Seriously. I work in a government business and if you know how much postage cost, well, in an assistance program it is extremely high. That might not be so bad if the mail actually got delivered to the person it was addressed to most of the time. It doesn't. They bring it back "undeliverable as addressed" or "no such number" or "forwarding order expired". After five years I should hope so but you just noticed it? 

Now, we know that every piece of mail has the correct address. The houses we send them to have legal addresses established BY THE POST OFFICE and we actually do an annual inspection on them once a year. We KNOW they're there. And yet... they can't find them half the time. And don't bother telling me I'm wrong. Granted that on rare occasions, about 1 a month, someone moves away without telling us or a letter is hand typed, rather than automatically generated from the software, with the wrong address. But neither account for the volume of return mail we get. I have to put additional postage on the letter, package, whatever and re-post it. One package cost us $1.60 to mail and of those we send about 150 a month. Sometimes it comes back so often we have to call the person and tell them to go to the post office and deal with the problem.

There was one month in which we had so much mail coming back that we actually had to call the post office ourselves and complain to the Post Master about the delivery problem. That month we were sending some of the same mail over and over and over. Who knows how many other places had that problem that month! And it took two months to see an improvement. I guess they finally fired the person.

Now, these people have to pass a rigorous test to be come a postal worker. I know they do because my husband took it and failed it and he was a college graduate. We never could figure out how that happened but it did. He'd even got one of those books designed to help you. It didn't. However, I've finally decided that it was simple. He knew too much. He simply knew too much to pass the exam. He said he thought it was a time problem. {pregnant pause} Apparently they have a time ... limit? Who would have guessed. I'm still confused on that point.

Of course, that was before cell phones. Now things become even clearer for me today. I realize why some of my clients use the excuse "I didn't get my letter for two weeks. The postman delivered it to the neighbors two blocks away and they finally brought it to me. I don't even know them!"  It sounds lame to us when they use that excuse but now it makes perfect sense. The mail carrier was talking on her cell phone and didn't pay attention to the addresses!

I would never have considered that as a problem. See, I'm a government employee and I have to use my cell phone on the job.... uh, never? No, but I can't let it interfere with my job - data entry, business calls, appointments, face to face conversation with clients. Yeah. But hey, maybe some government jobs let you talk on your phone all day about things unrelated to your job.

I think the solution to the problems cell phones have created is this: if you're mobile - on your feet or behind the wheel of a car - it is a felony to be caught using a cell phone.I'm serious. I can't stand you people trying to navigate in McDonald's parking lot, during the breakfast hour, driving your SUV, and talking on you phone. Really, lady? You're an idiot. Maybe you can afford the gas for that boat but I'm having trouble keeping mine full. I don't need you wrecking my car. Right about now I want to slap you and take a hammer to your phone.

For the ignorant, phones were not meant to be used in moving vehicles, when you're walking, in the drive thru, while you're in the grocery line, in the theater, or any other public place. Phones were meant to be used in a private area, away from people who don't know you and who don't care about the party you attended last night, or the fact that your kids just pooped his pants at school, or the affair you're having with that woman/man. Get a life and don't share it.

Phone booths were the greatest invention known to man. It gave access and privacy to an amazing means of communication. I miss phone booths. I liked closing the door and talking to someone and watching the rest of the world hurry by... or wait in line, while I had a conversation with someone I knew was actually listening on the other end. Never mind those movies where someone is in a phone booth and a car either rams the booth or fires automatic weapons at it. The phone booth is a sad loss to society. They can't even put them in movies anymore.

They'd have done better to leave the booths in place for idiots who think walking and talking on the cell phone on streets where there are potholes, manholes, and uneven sidewalks is nifty. It isn't. Get real folks, when you're on the phone you are little more than an idiot who doesn't see what is happening around you. You can't read while talking on a cell phone and this probably is a clue that you can't deliver the mail at the same time. Mail carriers get paid to deliver mail, not chat with the BFF during work hours.

One thing, maybe a positive thing, has come out of this stupidity. They now show movies with people talking on their cell phones getting hit by cars, shot in drive-by shootings, falling into manholes... wait... that's in real life. Hmmm, maybe this problem will correct itself.

Note: I may have found a character to off in my next NaNo Novel.


Friday, February 28, 2014

The Nasty Word

I love words, nearly all of them. They're so useful and sometimes they just convey exactly the right thing. In Psalm 19:14 it says, "Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength, and my redeemer." I find that so confirming that words are tangible things that have tremendous power. So much power, in fact, that David believed they can actually displease God. Wow.

I read something today and the word nasty came to mind and kind of stopped me in my tracks. It was just so fitting in that instance. "That's just nasty." I looked it up and was surprised by the enormous range of the word. It covers just about everything you can imagine. Yes, yes, yes, I know adjectives are nasty creatures and writers are supposed to avoid them like the plague. But this word is just awesome.

nas·ty adjective \ˈnas-tē\
: very unpleasant to see, smell, taste, etc.
: indecent and offensive
: unpleasant and unkind
nas·ti·ernas·ti·est

Full Definition of NASTY

1    a:  disgustingly filthy, b :  physically repugnant
2      :  indecent, obscene
3      :  mean, tawdry
4    a:  extremely hazardous or harmful
     b:  causing severe pain or suffering
     c:  sharply unpleasant :  disagreeable
5   a:  difficult to understand or deal with
     b:  psychologically unsettling :  trying
6     :  lacking in courtesy or sportsmanship
     (From Merrium-Webster - Online)

Think about it. It has a zillion uses! 

Dirty underwear: nasty. Dirty socks that have lain in a locker for two weeks: nasty. The neighbor's cat brought you a rodent: nasty. The customers who shop with the working girl on Maple and Vine: nasty. The leak at Chernobyl: nasty. The burn I got taking a heated pad out of the microwave: nasty. The leftover lasagna you forgot to put away last night: nasty. The day old oatmeal you left in the bowl when you rushed off to work: nasty. The fresh oatmeal in your bowl: nasty. The way the ground looks from the roof: nasty. The rude woman in the billing office when I pointed out her mistake: nasty.

So, nasty is a very cool word that covers a plethora of emotions and opinions. I think it rolls off the tongue rather satisfactorily, too. It takes your whole face to say it. I mean, you crinkle your nose, your brows draw together, and you raise your upper lip just slightly and utter the perfect word. "That's nasty."

Monday, October 14, 2013

A Little Blonde Moment

Saturday I did some cleaning around the house and found an old planner that belonged to Jerry. It was in really great shape and I had planned to use it instead of my old one, although my planner was more expensive, this one was hardly ever used. Instead, I gave it to Sarah. It is just the kind of thing I remember liking as a kid. I wasn't disappointed either. She loved it.

She opened the binder and took out pages and began writing and playing like she was writing a prescription. I believe she wrote one for Tylenol, acetaminophen, and something else. I was impressed.

I left her in the living room and went to the kitchen where I began washing dishes. She called out and said, "Mawmaw, I have to punch holes in this paper so it will go back in."

I told her she didn't have to do that because it had holes already in it. I left the sink to see what she was talking about.

She stood, pushing the page down onto the binder rings to make holes. She said, "They're on the wrong side and I have to to put them back in."

I started laughing and walked over. "Sweetie, you just have to turn the page over and the holes are right there."

She gave a gasp and shook her head, "You should have taken a video of me, Mawmaw."

I lost it then.

Thursday, October 10, 2013

Courtesy, Caution, & Congress

Don't we all hate the morning drive? I mean, a lot of people who have just rolled out of bed 20 minutes before are not the people you want to see at 7:30 a.m., behind the wheel of a deadly weapon. . . I mean car. And people who are going to or just got off a job they hate are also not the people you want to roll with on the expressway.

I live in a town that, in the last 25 years, has expanded much faster than the mentality of town. I don't mean that negatively. It is one of the things I like about it. A mid-sized town with a small town flavor. The problem is not in the front yards, or shops, or restaurants. It is on the Expressway. Resident drivers in this town still think this is a small town, and they must drive just as they have all their lives... and as their grandparents drove - before expressways and interstates arrived.

I'm a small-town girl. I grew up in rural Alabama. At 13 I learned to drive in a potato field, on the access roads that were rutted, pot-holed, and dusty on hot summer days, and muddy on rainy ones. The joke was that if you learn to drive in those conditions, you can handle a lot of less bumpy ones. And learning in that field won't result in fatalities... well, not to people. There were those times I got stuck in a mud hole and had to walk home to get Daddy to come pull me out. But that's another post.

I've traveled extensively as a military dependant. I also learned to drive on the interstates around Atlanta, Georgia; Montgomery, Alabama; and Birmingham, Alabama. So driving in strange places isn't unusual for me. When I say the potato field is not Atlanta, Georgia, you must believe me. Potatoes fields are nothing like driving in Atlanta.

During my drive to work today, I decided to discuss big city driving and the use of courtesy, caution, and congress. Now, I know you're thinking, "Oh Lord, another political rant" but that isn't the case at all. Bear with me.

First, courtesy is a must. You don't have to smile, or wave, or even like the other drivers, but if you expect to receive courtesy, you must give it. Be nice, people. You could smile. Pretend for the length of the drive that you're a happy driver. The give and take of courtesy is worth the effort you'll expend. When you get home, you can kick your dog. I hope he bites you.

There are many ways to get from point A to point B; generally, a straight line is the best and most efficient. But the people who created interstates and expressways didn't excel at basic geometry, so highways are not laid out according to this rule. One must follow the flow of hundreds of speeding bullets, some weighing thousands of pounds and loaded with cargoes that shift violently in the event of a sudden stop. You must navigate these pathways smoothly and without hesitation. Where I live, this would be a miracle.

So, caution is vital when driving on busy interstates and expressways. Knowing how to navigate the merging traffic on these roads is tricky, and the secret is - you have to KEEP MOVING. You can't stop in the middle of the lane waiting for your shot. If you stop, it creates a nightmare behind you for the next driver(s), who probably knows how to drive on such roadways. It also creates a nightmare and potentially disastrous accident to everyone else.

Here is an example. Driver A wants to merge into the flow of traffic. First, DO NOT STOP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE EXPRESSWAY OR THE ON/OFF RAMP. This is stupid. No... this is lunacy. Merge means to join the flow of traffic in a safe and efficient way. You actually should speed up to get into the traffic that is flying by you. And for the love of God and Country, turn on your blinkin' blinker. That's why they put them in a vehicle as standard equipment. It is a sign!

Please remember that traffic coming in from a merging lane has the right of way. If you're in the right lane, you should merge into the left to allow ease of access to that traffic. This never happens, and this starts a vicious cycle.

Consider. Driver A is in a lane merging into the flow of traffic. He has reached an indecisive state. Driver B is approaching Driver A's at around 55 mph. This is very fast when you're sitting still. She is watching the merging traffic because she wants to to get off at this exit while allowing them to merge. She sees A and is looking for a blinker to tell her where A going. Ah, no blinker. They're not getting on here. Are they going to continue in that lane and drive off into the trees or buildings?  Or are they taking the secondary road that also exits here? No, wait, they're going to just sit there, dead in the lane, creating a backlog of fifty vehicles waiting for them to figure out where they are and if they want to drive today. Driver B starts to pray, swear, and scream, "GET OUT OF THE WAY, YOU MORON!"

The traffic behind Driver B starts to pray and swear, and scream at her as she is forced to a halt in high speed traffic. Racing vehicles hit their brakes as they realize Driver B has stopped. Oncoming cars swerve around her, nearly slamming into the side of big rigs who also swerve. It can become a scene straight out of the Keystone Cops movies of the 30's, or Final Destination 2.

Let me say here that all religions are likely to fail at this point unless you are a Pentecostal, at which point you rebuke the devil for trying to kill you. We may even close our eyes and pray for an outpouring of the Holy Ghost on us and God's wrath on you. This is usually ineffective, by the way, and God views it as a fail. My advice is, keep your eyes open and pray for a parting of the traffic. I find this often works.

We now come to the most important aspect of driving on American highways - congress. This is not a body of elected officials who are trying to work for the good of the American people. No such body exists. What we are talking about here is a more primitive meaning: coming together. Long ago, the word was used to describe an intimate relationship, basically sexual intercourse, and the United States Congress still practices screwing the American people. However, for our driving lesson, we're using a much nicer version of the word. It means "a formal meeting to make decisions". Something unheard of in American politics since the Revolution.

Driver A and Driver B both need to make decisions. Driver A has caused enormous problems by his decision to stop in a lane intended to move things along by merging moving vehicles into a much bigger, faster moving lane of traffic. He also has failed to use his blinker to signal his intent, probably because he doesn't really know what he intends or that the car contains such a device.  Driver B has been forced to comply with Driver A's negotiating skills and things have devolved to the same state as our country. Everything has come to a screeching halt. Except for the surrounding people. As you may have discerned by now, in both government and traffic, this is not good.

What is required here is the two parties must work together without saying a single word to one another, must come to a mutual agreement on where they are going and how they get there. This borders on the miraculous. This is where congress comes in.

Decisions must be made in quickly and whatever else you do, you can't afford to stop. If anything, Driver A should apply acceleration, turn on the blinker, and MERGE. Believe me, the scenario between Driver A and B proves that all other traffic, upon seeing a hurtling object headed their way, will usually move out of the way when possible.

Really, it comes down to dollars and cents. How much damage are you willing to incur to hold your position? Totalled vehicle? Astronomical medical bills? Funeral expenses? It isn't hard for me. Merging traffic has the right of way and I no longer stop for anyone. Move on, move over, or get off the road.

Too bad Congress hasn't figure this out.








Friday, February 1, 2013

It Takes A Village


I love British mysteries. I cut my teeth on Agatha Christy and Dorthy L Sayers. For weeks now, I've been watching British mysteries on Netflix. I sit and crochet and watch for hours in the evening. I'm into about the seventh season of Midsomer Murders. It is just one of my favorites.

I don't know how the country of Britain is subdivided. I haven't been interested enough to look it up and assume it is similar to our divisions. In America we have states that have counties with towns and a county seat. Louisiana has parishes but it is six of one and half dozen of the other. Kentucky is a commonwealth but still has counties.

In Midsomer Murders the towns are usually different but they all appear to be in one sort of county, Midsomer, i.e. Midsomer Worthy I take to mean the town of Worthy in the county of Midsomer. If I'm wrong my loyal Brits readers will kindly correct me. But you get my drift.

While watching the show the other night I got to thinking. This Midsomer place is a veritable pit of sin and murder. I mean, every show is full of the most awful old bats and nosy neighbors, and vicious gossips. Every show has more than one murder. And the nicest people all seem to have these nasty vices or they seem totally naive about all of it.

So, I wondered... exactly what are those little English villages like? Seriously, they're small. All of the Midsomer villages are picturesque, cozy, and people seem so friendly on the surface and then, bam, someone is bashed over the head with a brick, or lamp, or candlestick. If they aren't bashed with something, they're blasted with a shotgun, of which there seems to be a awful lot of in Midsomer. Every one, including Granny has a shotgun. I know Britain has strict gun laws. I mean, even the DCI doesn't have a gun when he goes haring after the murderer. More than once I thought, "Stop, you fool! Get a gun before you go in there!" But no, he never does. And they never kill him! They don't even shoot him. Generally, they don't even hit him. He walks over and just snatches the gun away and that handsome chap that blindly follows him handcuffs the offender. All neat and tidy, despite the fact that this person just murdered half the town with an ax.

I always thought it would be nice to live in one of those villages. My friend, Jilly, moved to one last year. She seems very happy and so much more involved in the local events now. She's invited me to come for a visit and I've been really wanting to do that. But now I'm beginning to wonder. I've seen what goes on in these little hotbeds of vice.

I must ask her if Simon owns a shotgun.

Thursday, December 13, 2012

It's A Plan

The middle of the week has arrived and I'm in a dark place. I've been trying to figure out when life became such a chore.

That was the start to a blog yesterday that I was unable to finish. Today, I'm better, thanks to some praying friends. Life is still a chore but the well hasn't run dry. Of course, those that know me know it will break down just as I need a bucket full.

I took off today at noon and I will take off tomorrow at noon. I have to do some things to get my house in order. I can't even put up decorations because of all the stuff piled in the dinning room. I want the dinning room organized so I can have Christmas dinner with my family. I don't want to be sitting around the living room with paper plates.

Mike and I spent the afternoon cleaning out the garage... for about the sixth time in four years. I feel better when I do that. Yes, I know its weird. It looks a lot better. Not that it is sorted out, it will be easier for David, as well since his work gear will be in one spot. I need to get my garage door lock repaired. It works but it has a pin missing that makes it hard to lock.

I also have a couple of other chores to do and I think getting them done will make me feel better. However, the efforts in the garage, that took about three hours, is now beginning to be felt. I'm aching in my neck and shoulders and back. I'm going for a hot shower now and then some supper. I will work half a day tomorrow also and I am hoping to get my dining table after lunch and get everything decorated this weekend.

Oh... must tell this. We had to wear mask to clean the garage. There were mouse droppings everywhere. They had been in the bird seed that I forgot we had and I'm guessing they're well fed. Well, for days we have been smelling something in the garage. Dave said something was dead. I told him it was the mower. He will often leave the grass bag on the mower full and when the grass rots it stinks terribly. I've emptied it more than once and nearly fainted from the rotten grass smell. Anyway, I was cleaning out the corner where we have a lot of left over lumber from the remodel and I was sweeping out a pile of leaves... I thought. But they wouldn't come out. I leaned over.... and screamed and ran.

A opossum was staring at me. He didn't come out and I realized that the source of our smell was a dead animal! I knew that something was getting in the garage through an opening where we had removed a door and covered over it. We had it blocked with a piece of lumber but not enough to stop wildlife. I had caught a stray cat sleeping on top of the grass bag of the mower and told Mike to put up another board outside until I can block up that hole. He did... weeks ago. Mr. O'Possum paid the price for B&E.

Mike said he wished he'd had a video camera. Mean old boy.

So the garage is sorted and cleaner. Needs a good hosing down but we'll think about that this summer.

Friday, September 7, 2012

The Mental Test

This was amusing to me so I thought I'd share it. Honestly, I have a use for this test. 

A noted psychiatrist was a guest at a gathering of humor editors, and his host naturally broached the subject in which the doctor was most at ease.

"Would you mind telling me, Doctor," he asked, "how you detect a mental deficiency in somebody who appears completely normal?"

"Nothing is easier," he replied. "You ask a simple question that everyone should answer with no trouble. If there is hesitation, that puts you on the track."

"What sort of question?"

"Well, you might ask, 'Captain Cook made three trips around the world and died during one of them. Which one?'" 

The editor thought a moment, then said with a nervous laugh, "You wouldn't happen to have another example, would you? I must confess I don't know much about history."

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Sarah Said....

"Mamaw," she said in a tiny voice as she pointed at a spot on her chin. "My jaw hurts. Right here."

I looked. "Where?"

She rubbed her jaw. "Right here." Then she shot me a look. "It isn't because I'm talking too much!"

Two Mondays a Week

I feel like I'm chasing my tail. If I had a tail. Today is, of course, Tuesday... after Labor Day which, in my view, makes this Monday. It has been Monday all day long. 

My day started off at a run. I'm going on vacation on the 16th and will be out of my office for a week. So, that means I have to really get ahead in my caseload. Since I am already behind by about two weeks, this is not good. I have really hit it hard today, doing about 12 files of data entry. This is actually excellent. Generally, I can get 10 at the most done in a day. So, two more is a good thing. But not enough. I have nearly 20 more.

This is no way to start a week. The last week was fairly rotten in the first place. I was sick and family crises fell like hailstones. To start another week, a new month in fact, even worse is just frustrating. 

It feels as if my life is imploding. That's different from an explosion. It means to collapse inward from external pressures or to break down or fall apart from within. I can't find a much better description. I don't want to go into it here on this blog at this point. Someone pointed out that I'd once again have to go  through a form of grief. I don't want to do that anymore. Ever. I am so stressed at the moment that I can feel it in my chest. No, not actually pain. Just that heaviness you get when things are at their worst and you know you can't fix it. Fear sort of just gnaws at you bit by bit. You get tired.

I am tired. Of a life that seems filled with every dream and hope that I ever held shattered at my feet and then I am forced to walk across the razor sharp shards to some nebulous end. There is not pot of gold. There's not even a rainbow.  There will be those who say I overreact. Maybe I do. You need to walk very quietly from the room. Don't come back until I call you. Don't hold your breath. 

Monday I went to the Urgent care for a bug bite. Silly old thing that I am, I had a mosquito bite on my thumb but then there was some other bite on my leg, above my ankle. It happened in the car. Mike and I were taking Sarah home around five. She'd been to the Labor Day picnic with us but I was tired. I suppose the bug got in when I did. I got stressed because the mosquitoes here are infested with West Nile virus. I'm been so careful going out and taking Sarah out. But I only went from inside the house to inside the car. I shouldn't have to shower in Off. But I got bit.

The one on my thumb looked like a normal mosquito bite. The one on my leg didn't. It didn't get the red raised mound of a normal mosquito bite. It got very red and made a rectangular mark that grew to about the size of the end of my pinky from the join to the tip. It stung, not as bad as a bee sting but sort of like it feels when you stick a hot match to your skin. I had a terrible meltdown. There was no one to really care about it. No one to hold my hand, talk me down to a sane frame of mind. I called a couple of people. They have lives of their own. They moved on. 

Of course no one was as concerned as I. I don't know what I expected. I was terrified. Yeah, I know I nuts. You're late. The mark just got redder and redder and seem to spread over the course two hours. I finally decided to go to the urgent care. I called and ask David to go with me. Jerry would have gone with me if he'd been here. Mike would have gone if I'd called him but he doesn't handle my stress well anymore. Who am I kidding... I don't handle it well anymore. He's just not equipped for it, although he tries valiantly. More so than anyone else. 

Anyway, Dave went with me. I melted down in the car. He actually handled it pretty well. I really  needed Jerry to be there. Really, really, really. I got Dave to drive. I sat in the waiting room two hours and the mark faded away. Once they called me back I felt stupid but I have to say they didn't treat me that way. The were very kind and understanding and the doctor, when I saw him told me he was going to take notes on what had happened and if something changed I was to call. He said there were things they could tell me on the phone to do so I wouldn't have to come back in. I dropped David home and came home alone. 

It is an eternal irony that I don't want to live with people but I do not want to be alone. I am not able to resolve the paradox. 




Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Soak Your Feet In the Ocean

A New York retail clerk was suffering from aching feet. "It's all those years of standing," his doctor declared. You need a vacation. Go to Miami, soak your feet in the ocean and you'll feel better." When the man got to Florida, he went into a hardware store, bought two large buckets and headed for the beach. "How much for two buckets of that seawater?" he asked the lifeguard. "A dollar a bucket," the fellow replied with a straight face. The clerk paid him, filled his buckets, went to his hotel room and soaked his feet. They felt so much better he decided to repeat the treatment that afternoon. Again he handed the lifeguard two dollars. The young man took the money and said, "Help yourself." The clerk started for the water, then stopped in amazement. The tide was out. "Wow," he said, turning to the lifeguard. "Some business you got here!"

The Bridge

I get a joke daily from GCFL.com. Today's joke just tickled me.
John lived across the river from his backwoods neighbor,Clarence, and the two feuded constantly. They never missed a chance to throw rocks and yell insults over the water.

One day the Army Corps of Engineers came to build a bridge. John was elated and told his wife he was finally going to get his hands on Clarence.

When the bridge was finished, John headed off, but he returned a few minutes later. 


"I never realized how big that guy is," John said sheepishly to his wife. "I headed for the bridge, and then I saw the sign: 'Clarence - 8 feet, 4 inches."

Monday, June 4, 2012

A Case of Hiccups

I got the in my email today from GCFL.com and it gave me a chuckle. Had to share it.

While waiting in line at the bank, a co-worker developed a very loud case of hiccups. By the time he reached the teller's window, the hiccups seemed to have  worsened. The teller took my friend's check and proceeded to run a computer verification of his account. After a minute she looked up from her terminal with a frown and said that she would be unable to cash his check.

"Why not?" my friend asked incredulously.

"I'm sorry, sir," she replied, "but our computer indicates that you do not have sufficient funds to cover this amount. As a matter of fact," she continued, "our records  show your account overdrawn in excess of $5000."

"It can't be!" he cried. "You have to be kidding!"

"Yes, I am," she answered with a smile, counting out his cash. "But you will notice that your hiccups are gone."

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Places I've Been and Haven't Been


I have been in many places, but I've never been in Cahoots. Apparently, you can't go alone. You have to be in Cahoots with someone.

I've also never been in Cognito. I hear no one recognizes you there.

I have, however, been in Sane. They don't have an airport; you have to be driven there. I have made several trips there, thanks to my friends, family, and work.

I would like to go to Conclusions, but you have to jump, and I'm not too much on physical activity anymore.

I have also been in Doubt. That is a sad place to go, and I try not to visit there too often.

I've been in Flexible, but only when it was very important to stand firm.

Sometimes I'm in Capable, and I go there more often as I'm getting older.

One of my favorite places to be is in Suspense! It really gets the adrenalin flowing and pumps up the old heart! At my age I need all the stimuli I can get!

I may have been in Continent, but I don't remember what country I was in. It's an age thing.

I didn't write it but I wish I had. Received from GCFL.com.

World Collapse Explained in 3 Minutes

Thanks Chris! Very clear


Friday, November 20, 2009

Sighs and Bad Poems

Friday arrived, all gloomy and sad,
As usual I woke, shoulder hurting bad.
I dressed for my job, had coffee, too
But after I was done, I was still feeling blue.

My feet in my shoes, my hair in a bun
I knew that the day was off at a run.
I stopped to read blogs and mail;
I grabbed my purse, and for work set sail.

Long day ahead and five can't come too soon
Lunch is ahead, but not until noon
Tonight I made plans for Little Caesar and Depp
After company shows up on my step,

So think of me as you go thru your day
I'm chained to my desk in the usual way
Wishing I was home with pizza pies
With my fuzzy slippers on, watching Depp with sighs.