More fun than Mayonnaise... or at least equally fun... OK, it's less fun, but you're still reading...
More fun than Mayonnaise... or at least equally fun... OK, it's less fun, but you're still reading...
My friend cancelled my moving help. Her grandpa wanted to start moving before 7am and it's an hour drive for me to get there. So he called a temp agency and hired four beefy men. (Her grandpa fought in the military... worked as a construction worker... has been every other Village Person... a real man's man.... I think the universe realized that mixing us would be like bathing a cat in olive oil.)
Anyway, that means that I owe the universe a favor on the eve of my big audition announcement. In another words, I will be eating mint chocolate chip ice-cream and crying my eyes out to Annie Hall tomorrow night.
The universe needs to stay in balance.
Today the noisy neighbors willingly agreed to move to a 1st floor unit (without a messier battle between us).
Later today (after feeling a tad guilty about "evicting" them), I got a plea from a friend to help her move this weekend. She knows I am not a helpful person.... she knows that I don't "do things" for friends.... but luckily, this weekend I owed the universe a favor.
And so shall someone be moved as I have forced others to move.
Silver is the most psychologically damaging metal. If you had just tried harder... rehearsed longer... been a little stronger, you would have won gold. Instead, you were the first loser.
Bronze is much better because at least you got something. You weren't that poor schmuck in 4th place that went home empty-handed.
This last week I have been auditioning (for the first time ever) and it's really hard. The first cuts were fine because they were going from 40 to 20 people.... you were just a number. The line had to be drawn in the sand somewhere.
Now, the final cut is from 20 people to 15. It's no longer an ambiguous line... there are no more fleeting masses.... they've stopped promoting the strongest, and are now weeding out the 5 worst people in the room.
Since I can't identify more than two bad people, that means I am the third worst. There is no room for hope this week: I barely have enough energy to stay awake while driving.
I often pray that aliens (or professionally trained psychologists) aren’t observing me. The other night, roomie got very weirded out that I was preparing raw hamburger patties at midnight.
I was glad he was gone today because I found myself blow-drying my ivy plant for 6 minutes. I made sure to close the blinds before I started.
I also am afraid I will not get any work done tomorrow because a blog-less friend introduced me to the human clock. Do not follow this link if you have less than 30 minutes free. I have to agree with him that time is a very fascinating thing.
My coworker "Ron" and Alfred are "really into biking".... I had always imagined Tour de France, cross-state, Gatorade-commercial style biking. I was really surprised to see a video clip of his biking club.
Wanna buy one, they're only 9995 Euros?
Driving to the bus stop today, there was a faint smell of Maple Syrup along Energy Park Drive. I couldn't see where it was coming from.... no syrup dribbles on the pavement.... no crashed syrup trucks in the train yard.... and I'm pretty sure the Jiffy Lube guy replaced my oil with more oil. But ever since then, I have had this strange craving for pancakes.... with blueberries and gobs and gobs of gooey, rich, Maple Syrup.
Today I am exhausted, frustrated, crabby and very, very tired. We got new neighbors who recently moved here from hell and they are extremely loud. So far, management has not been able to quell their need to spike our decibel meter.
I am half a step away from cutting off our microwave door and drilling the nuke to our ceiling. When the noise starts, I will turn it on for an hour and finally come home to silence.
From about age 12-15, I printed a monthly newsletter to all of my relatives keeping them up to date with my (and my family's) life. It wasn't just news.... it had coupons (which were usually scams) and corny one-liners. This week I started researching me (and writing down interesting stories from my life) because I would like to write memoirs ala David Sedaris or Steve Almond. Here are some interesting quotes from my former newspaper:
My parents signed on a new house today.... within 2 hours, they discovered a nest of fire ants in their front yard, why they are called fire ants, and what it feels like to be robbed in FL.
Bad News: Thieves took everything. Good News: They only took the fridge the developer had recently promised to replace after my parents learned the previous (& brief) owners returned it with pee stains.
My question: Is it time to sell? Many dreams of moving simply externalize a desire for internal change. Other moves (NM) reconnect people with their home-like-place.... which in my parents' case is the great Midwestern prairie.
1. Thanks to all the story participants. I think the great Internet Experiment was a success! (Sorry to Shermie, whose post got altered as she and someone else posted simultaneously)... dealing with that frustration should earn you a gold star.
2. The great Internet Experiment has spawn a new idea, which will be a weekly addition to my blog starting this Sunday. Stay tuned.
3. Ate Chicken and Veggies with a garlic/herb sauce. The garlic covered the flavor of the veggies and I am sorry to report that I actually enjoyed the meal.
4. I am redoing a webpage at work and it really gets under my skin. I can’t walk away from web projects. At the end of the day, I keep thinking about them and I know nothing else in my life will get done until this project is completed... web work is as addicting as video editing. That is why I try not to do anything at work.
5. ...it was fun to have Mr. Blog back at work so I don't have to...
We (humans and any other animals with internet connections) are wired for stories… they’re ubiquitous. Every culture has developed (eerily similar) myths… oral stories (Illiad) that have been passed down for generations… major religions that teach with parables… and that doesn’t begin to mention the billions of dollars we pump into movies each year (albeit some of the money is misguided).
Thus, I want to take this opportunity to create a story with my griends (blog friend or non-marshmallow “peeps”). Please read the story I have started and add to it… add a word/phrase/sentence/paragraph (but nothing more than that in one sitting)… check back and add some more later. Write what comes to mind… don’t struggle—stories are natural! And maybe leave your final sentence incomplete to make it more fun for the next person. (X-rated and blatantly offensive comments with be edited out). I’ll type a grand finale in a day or two to put an end to this crazy internets experiment.
Read on for the story…
*****START*****
Sally Fortrain was frail, but surprisingly mobile and spry considering her 80 years of age. She lived alone and every night at exactly 9pm she would gaze upon her pride and joy in life: a gold-encrusted toothbrush she had received many years ago as a gift from…
The apartment had fallen into disarray, so I spent all evening doing dishes, wiping countertops (first for crumbs, then with disinfectant), mopping floors (once with Ammonia and then with hot water), vacuuming (once with the power off for practice, then with the power on as far as the cord would reach) and shaking every rug (once inside, then outside). It must be molting season because I found three of Nathan’s buttons. (I guess they’re his since most of my t-shirts are buttonless.)
Then I entered post-it notes from the kitchen into my computer so I could throw them out… but I didn’t really know how to translate this recipe. (My chemist parents would be horrified…)
Onion Ring Dipping Sauce
2 blobs Mayo
1 blob S. Cream
3 knifetips of Horse
“ “ of Onion Soup
3 sprinkles Paprika
6 drops Tabasco.
Retiring for the night in my parent’s basement, I saw a spider on the bookshelf above my bed. I hate the idea of smooshing other living things, so I made a pact that we’d leave each other alone.
Lying on my back, I looked up into the blackness and wondered about my life, the color black, and why a ripped, handsome guy had been grocery shopping with a plain, uninteresting woman (some sort of community service? Was she really funny?). Next thing I knew, a spider (I assume the same one) landed on my open right eyeball! As I blinked and (quickly!) swatted at my face, the damn thing bit my eyelid and caused it to swell up. At least it didn’t bite my cornea… can they even do that?
Every year, I carve a watermelon for the 4th of July. (Ironically, I don’t like fruit.) I had no idea what to make, so I just started carving swirls. It turned out to be the least practical fruit basket ever… you had to remove the decorative top part eat the fruit… but if you lifted it off, the fruit spilled everywhere since it was keeping everything in place. It’s a good thing Susie wasn’t there to see engineering give way to art. (Hey, does anyone know how to play Finlandia?!)
Everyone left for the weekend with a string of questions, so I'll do the same...