Attitude

For those of you who don't know, I work in a library and am stuck on the reference desk as my desk, my home away from home, even though I shouldn't be, but that's another story. I just have one question I'd like to pose: WHY CAN'T PEOPLE BATHE AND USE DEODORANT? It's not hard. Have a heart, people.

Now for something kind of related and not really surprising:

Your Attitude is Better than 35% of the Population

You have an average attitude. You take the good and bad in life as they come. Though sometimes you could use a little more good.

How's Your Attitude?

But I'm From Louisiana!

Your Linguistic Profile:

40% General American English

30% Dixie

10% Upper Midwestern

10% Yankee

5% Midwestern

What Kind of American English Do You Speak?

There Once Was a Little Pea Brain...

Well, if I weren't out of the contest already, I am now, all due to my wee little brain. I had a feeling it would come to this, though I expected to make it further into the month. I wasn't at a computer yesterday so... I just forgot. Until Molly woke us up to go out at 1:30 a.m. THIS morning. Then I oh-so-helpfully remembered. Good job, brain!

Quirks

Does anyone else like House Hunters as much as I do? I suppose I like it so much because we are looking for a house ourselves. Although we don't have nearly the options that most of the people on HH have since we live in such a small town. We're lucky to have a few houses to consider every few months or so. I envy those people their choices.

Those of you who watch the show, tell me which episodes are older: Suzanne Whang with bangs, or Suzanne Whang without? I don't know why I feel compelled to know this, but I do.

My husband doesn't like the show as much as I do, but he loves how in some of them (older or newer episodes, I can't tell!) she introduces herself and then pauses, as if expecting applause. "Welcome to House Hunters. I'm Suzanne Whang." ~pause~ "Joe Schmoe is looking for a new place to live..."

That is funny, but not as funny as a girl on a Standard Deviants video we watched (my hubby is a teacher) who would say whatever she was scripted to, then flash this big beauty queen smile. Regardless of the tone of whatever it was she had just said. That struck me as really funny. Apparently, her Indian name is Desperately Hoping to Be Noticed by a Hollywood Bigwig and Become the Next Julia Roberts Like Sometime SOON So I Don't Have to Do These Lame Educational Videos EVER AGAIN.

I Should Study Science!

You Are An INTJ

The Scientist You have a head for ideas - and you are good at improving systems. Logical and strategic, you prefer for everything in your life to be organized. You tend to be a bit skeptical. You're both critical of yourself and of others. Independent and stubborn, you tend to only befriend those who are a lot like you. You would make an excellent scientist, engineer, or programmer.

What's Your Personality Type?

Okay, I am kind of an idea rat, I am constantly trying to improve things, and I like to be logical and organized. Skeptical, check. Critical, check. Stubborn, check. But a scientist? I don't think so. I don't have the concentration. I'm more like Frankenstein's monster than the good doctor. Alive, yes, but very confused.

Good Old American Dentistry

So I went to the dentist today. Wow, that was fun! He poked, prodded, drilled, and swabbed his little heart out. It hurt. Verily it hurt.

And I have to have a root canal next week. And my jaw hurts from the shot, and my tooth still hurts from all the drilling and prodding. But at least I can see light at the end of this particular tunnel of doom.

I can't believe I'm looking forward to a root canal.

Well, sort of.

Teeth Shmeeth

I don't know if you've ever had a toothache, or any kind of trouble with your teeth. If not, I hate you and want your teeth. If so, you know what it's like. You can feel my pain.

Because oh, yes, pain there is. It started Saturday night when I was innocently eating a little ice cream. All of a sudden, WHAM. It was like someone hit me in the jaw with a sledgehammer. (Well, okay, since that might actually kill me, I'll change it to a rubber mallet. Those things still hurt.) It was horrible. My whole head hurt. It finally subsided into a dull, throbbing, constant ache that has been with me since. With occasional flare-ups of intense head-shattering pain.

And of course the dentist can't work me in until tomorrow.

I have two crowns where this pain is originating and have been told I need root canals. I'm guessing they were right. And as much as I dread having a root canal, I want this pain over with even more. Just make it stop, that's all I ask. And make sure it never returns.

At this point, I'm willing to have these teeth pulled, if that's what it would take. Just call me Lurleen-Mae. At least I would be gloriously free of pain and able to eat whatever I wanted. Mostly.

I Am So Mad

Well, that's just great. I'm going to be out of the contest now, all because of BLOGGER. I posted yesterday, and at first had trouble getting Blogger to publish; finally it published and the post was there. I even checked my site twice and there was my little post, a few words of wisdom that I liked. So I come in to post today and guess what? Yesterday's post is GONE.

I would love to know how that happened, I would love Blogger to find it and republish it, AND I would love an apology from them for this.

You Can Call Me Scoot

You Are Scooter

Brainy and knowledgable, you are the perfect sidekick.You're always willing to lend a helping hand.In any big event or party, you're the one who keeps things going."15 seconds to showtime!"

The Muppet Personality Test

Wild Child

While recently reading about the Jersey Devil, I discovered a link to an article on feral children. Reading some of the entries mentioned in that article, I discovered further proof (as if I needed any) that animals really are better than people. (I make a vast, sweeping, and even gross generalization here, I know. I actually do know some very nice people, and a few kind of mean animals, so I recognize the flaw in my sentiment. But still. Overall.)

Here’s what blows me away: first of all, that parents abandon their own children -- okay, that’s shocking enough, but sadly, not as shocking as it should be these days; the really astounding part is that animals take them in -- something that isn’t even of their own species -- and raise them!

Do the animals stop to consider whether or not there will be enough milk to go around, or juicy berries, or yummy rabbits, or whatever? Apparently not.

So, at least in these cases, the animals definitely win the moral tug-of-war.

A previously unknown (to me) and intriguing detail mentioned in several of the cases wherein children were raised by wolves or wild dogs is that the children were found to have exceptional senses of sight, smell, and hearing. I can think of several reasons why this would be so, but it never occurred to me that it would be. I think that’s fascinating.

I guess that’s why I was a psych major in college.

Get Your Post On!

In a moment of reckless abandon, I decided to participate in NaBloPoMo, which is National Blog Posting Month, created by the fussy Mrs. Kennedy. This means I have to post every day for the month of November. Every day.

I did this not just because there are prizes involved -- mmm, prizes -- but also because I think it will be good practice for me to have to write every day. Of course, the biggest problem is going to be my memory. There's every chance that I'll forget, not just because of weekends, when I like to avoid the computer after working at one all week, but during Thanksgiving. A holiday! My memory ain't what it used to be, folks.

Anyway, here goes. Wish me luck, a good memory, and ideas for what to write!

Sweet Personality

Of course I'm a Reese's, what else?

Reeses Peanut Butter Cups

Very popular, one of you is not enough.

What Kind of Candy Are You?

Billions of Dollars Later: "Mars Is Boring"

Mars Rover Beginning To Hate Mars

PASADENA, CA—After nearly three years of nonstop data collection, Spirit has begun transmitting obscene gestures and confusing rants.

A Short Skirt Is Not an Open Invitation

I just came across this and think it bears repeating. I believe that most people capable of committing rape aren't susceptible to rehabilitation, but there are some instances where "average" people seem to think it's okay. Read on, you'll see what I mean.

Only Rapists Can Prevent Rape

A lot has been said about how to prevent rape. Women should learn self-defense. Women should lock themselves in their houses after dark. Women shouldn't have long hair and women shouldn't wear short skirts. Women shouldn't leave drinks unattended. Hell, they shouldn't dare to get drunk at all. Instead of that bullshit, how about:

• If a woman is drunk, don't rape her.
• If a woman is walking alone at night, don't rape her.
• If a woman is drugged and unconscious, don't rape her.
• If a woman is wearing a short skirt, don't rape her.
• If a woman is jogging in a park at 5 am, don't rape her.
• If a woman looks like your ex-girlfriend you're still hung up on, don't rape her.
• If a woman is asleep in her bed, don't rape her.
• If a woman is asleep in your bed, don't rape her.
• If a woman is doing her laundry, don't rape her.
• If a woman is in a coma, don't rape her.
• If a woman changes her mind in the middle of or about a particular activity, don't rape her.
• If a woman has repeatedly refused a certain activity, don't rape her.
• If a woman is not yet a woman, but a child, don't rape her.
• If your girlfriend or wife is not in the mood, don't rape her.
• If your step-daughter is watching TV, don't rape her.
• If you break into a house and find a woman there, don't rape her.
• If your friend thinks it's okay to rape someone, tell him it's not, and that he's not your friend.
• If your "friend" tells you he raped someone, report him to the police.
• If your frat-brother or another guy at the party tells you there's an unconscious woman upstairs and it's your turn, don't rape her, call the police and tell the guy he's a rapist.
• Tell your sons, god-sons, nephews, grandsons, sons of friends it's not okay to rape someone.
• Don't tell your women friends how to be safe and avoid rape.
• Don't imply that she could have avoided it if she'd only done/not done x.
• Don't imply that it's in any way her fault.
• Don't let silence imply agreement when someone tells you he "got some" with the drunk girl.
• Don't perpetuate a culture that tells you that you have no control over or responsibility for your actions. You can, too, help yourself.

-author unknown

Slow Your Boat

I have always felt that I was born in the wrong time. I like to do most things at a leisurely pace, I hate crowds and traffic, I don't particularly like fast food, and I wish I could walk to the grocery store, to a diner or cafe, to visit friends, without it being dangerous, weird, or just plain impossible.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered there are other people who agree, who think things ought to be done -- and more importantly, can be done -- differently. Better. The trouble is, it still costs too much to do most of what I'd like to do. I fall into the heavily burdened middle class, who aren't rich enough to hire attorneys and accountants to hide the bulk of our money so we don't have to pay taxes on it, and who aren't poor enough to benefit from government and private aid. No one wants to help the middle class; we're the ones helping everyone else.

Anyway, that mini-rant over, I've read some interesting books lately that relate to this topic in one way or another.

In his book In Praise of Slowness, Canadian journalist Carl Honoré examines how fast-paced our world has become and what we've lost in the process: health, happiness, connectedness, contentment. For example, did you know that the average American spends seventy-two minutes of every day behind the wheel of a car? That Americans spend forty percent less time with their children than they did in the 1960s? But Honoré doesn't just present a gloomy picture, he goes on to discuss the solution: the worldwide "slow" movement. Depressing, fascinating, and ultimately encouraging, I highly recommend it.

I've also recently read Fast Food Nation, Don't Eat This Book, and Chew On This, which all examine the fast food industry and what it's done -- and is still doing -- to our health, from our expanding waistlines and heart problems to toxic conditions at the feedlots and "farms" where their meat comes from, and to our economy. There's nothing natural or healthy involved, from the food processing to the finished products to the franchise management to the manipulation of the consumers, particularly children.

It's chilling to realize that other countries are rioting and refusing to let these big companies get away with all of their questionable practices while Americans just keep shoveling it in. And while these companies are responding to pressures overseas, they don't necessarily make the same changes here. Because it would cost too much.

Never mind that they've already made more money than anyone should be allowed to who isn't giving more back. Besides heart attacks, diabetes, animal cruelty, and e. coli, that is.

You could try writing your congressman (or –woman) but odds are they won’t be able (or won’t want) to take on these companies’ powerful lobbies. They keep a lot of politicians in their pockets. It seems to me the big companies have got it all backwards: if they put that money toward cleaning up their practices and producing clean, healthy, tasty food, they wouldn’t need to pay the politicians to cover for them. Right?

I’m just happy there are people out there getting fed up with this stuff (lame pun not intended) and letting us know and really doing something about it. My little contribution for now is just passing it along. But I’m going to keep trying to do more.

Skidboot the Dog

Wow. What a great dog. (Warning -- this is a bit of a tearjerker.)

Poor Sass

Well, we ended up having to take Sass to an emergency vet clinic a few weeks ago when she was so sick. We drove about an hour and a half to get there and of course she seemed better once we arrived. But they ran tests and diagnosed pancreatitis. Which is potentially fatal. So he gave us some medicine, injected some water under her skin to hydrate her, and told us to feed her prescription food. And then we drove back, getting home around 2:30 a.m. We were all exhausted. Molly was thrilled that we were home.

Sass can't have any more people food, since that's apparently what made her sick, so we've been giving her the prescription food. She is NOT HAPPY. She eats her food now only when she's finally so hungry that she can't stand it. And she can go a while with no food, believe me.

I can't really blame her; here's what it looks like:















Poor Molly has to eat it, too. Otherwise Sass just goes over and eats her food. So they're both on a diet. They've lost weight, especially Molly, and they seem to feel much better. So it's worth it.

I can't believe we did this to her; we feel incredibly guilty. It was breaking my heart when she looked so forlorn and I didn't know what to do to help her. And that was before I knew we had done this to her! Now she doesn't get any people food at all, so she watches us with sad eyes while we're eating. It's hard because we can't explain to her why she can't have table scraps anymore, but there's nothing we can do about it. We're just thankful that she's feeling better.

Small Town Life, Too

Another example of what I love about small towns:

If a man's home can't be his castle, then why not his parking spot? If your car is feeling neglected, maybe you should redecorate its personal space.

Call Percy, the Pasha of Parking Place Pulchritude:












You may not be able to tell how much he's added from the first picture to the second and third, but believe me, it's quite a bit. Oh, that persnickety Percy, always perfecting...

Catching Up

I had surgery about two weeks ago -- well, an "outpatient procedure," which sounds much less impressive but still hurts, dammit. I guess things are okay; healing, anyway, which is something. I got home afterwards, in pain and sleepy yet restless, just generally miserable, really, and this is the day that my landlord decides to have our dangerous could-explode-any-minute oven replaced. And it took for-fricking-EVER. Not very restful. My mother, who went with me for the surgery -- excuse me, procedure -- fielded most of it and stayed with me until my hubby got home from work. (Thanks again, Mom!) It was a yucky day from start to finish. But after recently reading again about hospitals killing their patients, I feel lucky to be healing and reasonably sure no one left any foreign objects inside me.

We're not having a lot of luck with our house search. We have lots of doctors here, for some reason, some sort of Heal America program, I guess, and they don't seem to mind dropping a ridiculous amount of money on houses, thereby ruining the housing market for the rest of us. Please wish us luck, people! Cross your fingers, say a little prayer, think good thoughts, whatever you like, but get busy.

Poor Sass isn't feeling well; when I went home for lunch I found she had tossed her biscuits, and she's been acting oddly all day. I wish she could tell me what's going on; it's incredibly frustrating not knowing what's wrong. Yesterday I took her to the vet to have her nails clipped (she has black nails, so we're afraid we'll hurt her) and the lady who did them was really rough and the clippers were blunt and she cut two or three too close and my poor baby bled. She didn't even yelp or whimper, poor little thing, just endured it. I guess we might as well do her nails ourselves from now on; I don't think we'll do worse and we may do better since we actually care.

Anyway, more good thoughts and prayers for Sass, if you please. I hate it when she feels bad and looks at me with those big sad eyes and I can't do anything for her.

Who'd a Thunk?

Spoiler Alert: For those of you who don't want to know the Truth About Elmo, read no further!

I just found on another blog that Elmo is voiced -- or, rather, brought to life -- by a big black guy. I find that to be incredibly amusing. And he seems like a nice guy, which is good since Elmo is not only adorable but communicates with children regularly.

Go here to see.