Note: there is no order, they’re just coming to me at random. Some are ficticious but only because they really irk me. I will admit some of these are strange and unfounded, but that doesn’t change anything.
1. Britney Spears: I like her music, or at least I did when I was younger, but something about her personally bothers me. I can’t put my finger on what, but something does. I refer to her as the Princess of Purgatory, which for the sake of being linear brings me to…
2. Hilary Duff: Whom I call Spawn of Satan. Soon to take Britney’s place. But unlike Britney I can’t stand Duff’s music at all. It makes me want to puke. Either that or take a two-bit drill to my temple.
3. Hitler: Umm…duh.
4. Twiggy: I blame her for the whole anorexia crisis. I mean, before her people had a decent concept of body image—Marilyn Monroe—but now not so much.
5. Osama Bin Laden: Like Hitler I really don’t think this warrants an explanation.
6. Any President Who Has Interupted CSI For A Speech: this excludes speeches in crisis situatations but for the most part GAAAAHHHH!!!
7. James Earl Ray: how dare you.
8. Nero: smooth buddy. Burn Rome and play your freakin violin.
9. Ernesto Miranda: You’re an idiot. It really frosts my cookies to think that he got off for what he did because he didn’t know his rights. It’s his own fault. Our rights are available in every public library, and had the idiot ever attended school, he would have known them already because schools spell them out in black and white by making you learn them! I’ve gotten into some pretty intense debates over this in and out of classrooms. It’s never a good thing to bring up.
10. Jayne Fonda: Her treatment of troops during Vietnam was, and still is in my opinion, inexcusable. Well that and the work out videos.
11. Prissy: The slave girl from Gone With The Wind. The only thing that irked me was her voice. Sweet Jesus her voice grated on me. I seriously stuffed my head under a pillow to get away from that voice.
12. My ex-Girl Scout Leader: Anybody I actually know I’m not going to write their names down on the off chance they might read this. It’s slim, but still. I quit Girl Scouts in the sixth grade, because she wouldn’t let us dance and she wanted to have tea parties, and I thought I was far to mature for that.
13. Ricky Martin: No I will not shake my bon-bon stop asking!
14. Agamemnon: Dude, you sacrificed your daughter for wind.
15. Robin Leech: Appropriately named. Champagne wishes and caviar dreams. Right. His voice drove me nuts too.
16. My eighth grade math teacher: He yelled. A lot. I didn’t understand anything that man said civilly, and I’ve had problems with math ever since.
17. Tom Sawyer: Kid drove me nuts; I just wanted to shake him.
18. Ryan Seacrest: I have so many issues with this guy simply because he looks like Ken doll.
19. Edgar Allen Poe: This is going to sound strange but I don’t have any problem whatsoever with him. I’ve come to loathe him because in eighth grade we had to memorize The Raven and analyze some of his other works into the ground. I’m bitter about that, oh so bitter. So it’s not Poe’s fault. It’s really said English teacher’s fault, but Poe’s taking the fall for it. Sorry
20. Sisqo: Two words—Thong Song. What were you thinking?!?
21. Lord Capulet: Child abuse and forced marriage.
22. Flower: I have got some SERIOUS issues with the skunk from Bambi. I could go on for another thousand words about my problems with this thing, but I’ll spare you. Ack.
23. The Rabbit: Take the Trix and be gone!
24. Tom Cruise: I only like this man for however long it takes me to watch Top Gun, after that I don’t give a rip.
25. Michael Jackson after Thriller: He went down hill after Thriller. I know he’s got a lot of die-hard fans and that’s great but I just can’t support him. Too much plastic surgery, obnoxious voice, and the disturbing accusations.
26. Joan Rivers: My reasons are very similar to the above except she didn’t do the whole child molestation thing.
27. Severus Snape: You killed Dumbledore! You killed Dumbledore!
28. Thoreau: I liked Civil Disobedience and agreed with what he said. But he lost me during Walden when he attacked material possessions—specifically clothes. I’m very materialistic, and I understand why this is bad, but come on!
29. Movie Critics: They always seem to pick on my favorite films. That makes them bad bad people.
30. Whoever created unreal numbers: did you have to make my life more complicated?
31. Gwyneth Paltrow: simpering wench.
32. Donald Duck: I don’t even know why.
33. The Pioneers: I’ve got school spirit.
34. Kafka: Metamorphosis
35. Rabbit: you know, from Winnie the Pooh? Yeah something crawled up his butt and died cause he was way too cranky 24/7.
36. John Smith: Right, like the Disney movie really worked out that way. Argh. I know how it ended for the Indians.
37. Roger Chillingworth: Scary man. Obsess much? And followed closely by…
38. Pearl: Child is creepy. I hope to never have a child like this! I know Hawthorne was supposed to have tried to paint her in a positive light but she sounds like a demon.
39. Scarlet O’Hara: She was stupid. Shame on womanhood, shame! Nice accent though.
40. Gene: From A Separate Peace; what a jerk. Poor Phineas.
Okay, I’m done for now; it’s getting late. Maybe later I’ll round this off to one hundred. I’m sure I’ll think of some as soon as I get off the computer, Murphy’s Law…
41. Murphy: sadistic bastard.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Two Thumbs Undecided
I can't decide if I like winter or not. I mean, I know there are pros and cons to everything, but winter is the one thing I can't figure out which side I'm on. Do I like it? Do I not like it? I don't know because it alternately annoys and exhilerates me.
If I'm weighingthe good with the bad here, I might as well start with the good because that's just the kind of mood I'm in today.
Pro 1: The crunch of snow under my boots. It's such a crisp sound! It makes me smile for some odd reason. It reminds me of when I was little and that sound meant an adventure. Plus if the snow is really good and crisp then it makes for better packing, which leads me to...
Pro 2: Snowball fights. If you don't enjoy them it's because you always got your butt whooped. Even me with my bad aim adore snowball fights. I remember every winter a bunch of the neighborhood kids would all get together and have a snowball fight. It would lead into one another's yards depending on how much snow we had used up. Sadly we don't seem to do that anymore. We're all too busy being "grown up".
Pro 3: Snowmen/snowangels. The whole crisp snow theory comes into this one too, at least for the snowmen. I haven't made one in a handful of years. Not because I don't want to make a snowman, but because the snow hasn't been good enough to make a snowperson bigger than a Keebler elf. So really, a winter is determined by the quality of its' snow. Snow angels on the other hand can be made in whatever kind of snow you're stuck with, which is rather kind of them. You just plop down in the snow and--swish, swish, swish--you've got a snow angel. Of course now you have snow caked on you and it will begin to melt and make you uncomfortable but I'm not going there.
Pro 4: Hot Chocolate. Technically I could have hot chocolate any time I wanted but it just feels right during the winter. Yummy.
Pro 5: Sleigh rides. I can't really count this I suppose because I've never been on a winter sleigh ride. But the idea is extreamly appealing to me. I should do it on day. But I would have to wait for more snow since all of it is melting right now. The idea of a sleigh ride just sounds like so much fun right now!
Pro 6: Snow days. This is so far down on the list because I almost never get one. Except this Friday which was marvelous!!! I was so shocked when we got it though because there really wasn't that much snow on the ground, just ice.
Pro 7: The clouds of breath. I don't care how freaking old you are the breath clouds are fun!
Pro 8: Fresh fallen snow. This includes the snow that is falling merrily outside a window, the pure white blanket spread out across any landscape, and the inevitable debachment of the previous two. There is something magical about untouched snow. Which of course leads us to touch it and therefore ruin the whole effect but whatever.
Pro 9: Baking seaon. Maybe it's our need to bulk up for the winter, some animal instinct to pack it on and hibernate, but people make the best damn cookies this time of year. And it's not just one type of cookie. I don't know why but people seem to feel more creative as they make hundreds of baked goods during the winter. My personal favorites are Peanut Blossums, Pinwheels, Sugar Cookies, and Ginger Snaps (but I'll eat anything you'll give me).
Pro 10: The warm fuzzy feeling. Y'all know what I'm talking about. Uh-huh that. It's different for every person I think. For me it's sitting in my warm house (if I had a fireplace I would be in front of it), under a patchwork quilt reading a book, while listening to Holiday music (none of the new pop crap either, the goods--Billie Holiday, Judy Garland, Frank Sinatra), and watching a light snowfall out side. It's that goodwill feeling where everything is right in the world. It's hope.
On that happy note I'm heading into the Cons. NOTE: I tryed not to mention any Christmas themed Pros because that is the biggest bribe winter has.
Con 1: Ice. Oh God do I hate ice. I always feel like a duck because you have to waddle--feet turned in taking baby steps--in order not to fall. Which of course you do, fall, I mean, and it's always on your butt. So now your dignity is gone, your pants are wet, you're in pain, and best of all your butt is now going to be sporting a big honkin bruise! As if that weren't enough the icicles start to rain down on you like little daggers of death! Those suckers hurt!
Con 2: The frost on your windsheild. It takes forever to clear the windsheild in the morning with this stuff. And it always seems like there is more of it when you're running late.
Con 3: Snot. Yeah that's right you heard me, snot! The runny Rudolph nose only happens in the winter. Winter turns your nose into a spigot. A spigot which you cannot turn off! It runs, and runs, and runs. Then you sniffle every five seconds. Or you blow your nose, and it's never a polite little sound; it's always the sound of a cruiseliner hailing port. Ick.
Con 4: Snow days. Wait, what? Didn't I have this on the Pros list? Yes but in this case I'm talking about the let down. My school almost never gives us a snow day. All the other schools around can be let out, but Webster's got to be stubborn and force its students to come forth in blistering weather. Even when there are six to eight inches on the ground our superintendant won't give us the day off. It's stupid. And it crushes all of a child's hope in the world. Your watching the snow fall, watching as it piles up higher and higher outside your window, and then you have go out in it because even though that snow drift could eat you, you have to go to school! It's a widely circulated theory among the students (and some staff), that our superintendant is from some place very far up North so what is a big deal to us in Webster is nary a flurry to him. Some say one of the Dakotas, others Minnesota, and some Antartica. No matter, it's cruel to have your hope slaughtered by snow.
Con 5: Cold. I hate being cold. And it doesn't take much to make me cold. I wear sweatpants and a sweater in the summer time, imagine what the winter weather does to me. Five minutes outside and my cheeks are rosy for a hour or more, and my teeth won't stop chattering. Oh did I mention that I had three layers on including a heavy duty coat? Yeah it's bad. In the winter, my toes are never fully defrosted. It's miserable.
Con 6: Severe illness. Let me just start this one out by saying that I have little to no respitory immune system. That is not an exageration either. That's what the doctor told me, so I have to be careful this time of year. Every body seems to have something too. A cold, or the flu; just something. And I always seem to get it. If someone coughs in my general direction I get whatever they've got. Most of the time I have to tough it out and go to school anyway, which isn't good but I can't miss too much school for every little thing I catch during the winter. But I hate it. Especially the coughing. The dry heave death rattle that steals the breath from your lungs and makes your chest hurt for hours after it happens. Last year was the first time in my memory where I didn't stay home for a week long period from some sort of illness. I'm hoping I can duplicate this phenomenon again this year.
Con 7: The dryness. What I mean by this is the chapped lips, and cracked hands. It's not fun. Why else do people give lotion as gift so often?
Con 8: The fact that I can't hibernate. Grrrrr... I just want to sleep in the winter and I'm not allowed. It's not the winter's fault but it's gettingblamed anyway.
Con 9: Gluttony. I know I said earlier I wasn't going to use Christmas but think about it. There are so many food holidays in winter: Thanksgiving, Christmas (and all the other December holidays e.g. Kwanza), New Years, and Valentines Day. All of these are stuffed to the gills with food, particularly sweets. Now I don't mind the food or sweets. In fact I love them. What makes this a con, is the overeating. The regret afterwards, that's the bad part. The momment where you go "Whoa, I shouldn't have eaten that..."
Con 10: Cabin fever. I can only take so much of the carols and the eggnogg before I'm bored with it all. And I'm trapped because of my cold issues. So really I do this to myself, but I still blame winter.
Even listing all my issues with winter out hasn't helped me decide if I like it or not. Maybe I'll figure it out as it's happening to me. After all my key issues with winter hinge on changable things, such as how many snow days or how sick I get. Hmmmmmm. We'll see.
If I'm weighingthe good with the bad here, I might as well start with the good because that's just the kind of mood I'm in today.
Pro 1: The crunch of snow under my boots. It's such a crisp sound! It makes me smile for some odd reason. It reminds me of when I was little and that sound meant an adventure. Plus if the snow is really good and crisp then it makes for better packing, which leads me to...
Pro 2: Snowball fights. If you don't enjoy them it's because you always got your butt whooped. Even me with my bad aim adore snowball fights. I remember every winter a bunch of the neighborhood kids would all get together and have a snowball fight. It would lead into one another's yards depending on how much snow we had used up. Sadly we don't seem to do that anymore. We're all too busy being "grown up".
Pro 3: Snowmen/snowangels. The whole crisp snow theory comes into this one too, at least for the snowmen. I haven't made one in a handful of years. Not because I don't want to make a snowman, but because the snow hasn't been good enough to make a snowperson bigger than a Keebler elf. So really, a winter is determined by the quality of its' snow. Snow angels on the other hand can be made in whatever kind of snow you're stuck with, which is rather kind of them. You just plop down in the snow and--swish, swish, swish--you've got a snow angel. Of course now you have snow caked on you and it will begin to melt and make you uncomfortable but I'm not going there.
Pro 4: Hot Chocolate. Technically I could have hot chocolate any time I wanted but it just feels right during the winter. Yummy.
Pro 5: Sleigh rides. I can't really count this I suppose because I've never been on a winter sleigh ride. But the idea is extreamly appealing to me. I should do it on day. But I would have to wait for more snow since all of it is melting right now. The idea of a sleigh ride just sounds like so much fun right now!
Pro 6: Snow days. This is so far down on the list because I almost never get one. Except this Friday which was marvelous!!! I was so shocked when we got it though because there really wasn't that much snow on the ground, just ice.
Pro 7: The clouds of breath. I don't care how freaking old you are the breath clouds are fun!
Pro 8: Fresh fallen snow. This includes the snow that is falling merrily outside a window, the pure white blanket spread out across any landscape, and the inevitable debachment of the previous two. There is something magical about untouched snow. Which of course leads us to touch it and therefore ruin the whole effect but whatever.
Pro 9: Baking seaon. Maybe it's our need to bulk up for the winter, some animal instinct to pack it on and hibernate, but people make the best damn cookies this time of year. And it's not just one type of cookie. I don't know why but people seem to feel more creative as they make hundreds of baked goods during the winter. My personal favorites are Peanut Blossums, Pinwheels, Sugar Cookies, and Ginger Snaps (but I'll eat anything you'll give me).
Pro 10: The warm fuzzy feeling. Y'all know what I'm talking about. Uh-huh that. It's different for every person I think. For me it's sitting in my warm house (if I had a fireplace I would be in front of it), under a patchwork quilt reading a book, while listening to Holiday music (none of the new pop crap either, the goods--Billie Holiday, Judy Garland, Frank Sinatra), and watching a light snowfall out side. It's that goodwill feeling where everything is right in the world. It's hope.
On that happy note I'm heading into the Cons. NOTE: I tryed not to mention any Christmas themed Pros because that is the biggest bribe winter has.
Con 1: Ice. Oh God do I hate ice. I always feel like a duck because you have to waddle--feet turned in taking baby steps--in order not to fall. Which of course you do, fall, I mean, and it's always on your butt. So now your dignity is gone, your pants are wet, you're in pain, and best of all your butt is now going to be sporting a big honkin bruise! As if that weren't enough the icicles start to rain down on you like little daggers of death! Those suckers hurt!
Con 2: The frost on your windsheild. It takes forever to clear the windsheild in the morning with this stuff. And it always seems like there is more of it when you're running late.
Con 3: Snot. Yeah that's right you heard me, snot! The runny Rudolph nose only happens in the winter. Winter turns your nose into a spigot. A spigot which you cannot turn off! It runs, and runs, and runs. Then you sniffle every five seconds. Or you blow your nose, and it's never a polite little sound; it's always the sound of a cruiseliner hailing port. Ick.
Con 4: Snow days. Wait, what? Didn't I have this on the Pros list? Yes but in this case I'm talking about the let down. My school almost never gives us a snow day. All the other schools around can be let out, but Webster's got to be stubborn and force its students to come forth in blistering weather. Even when there are six to eight inches on the ground our superintendant won't give us the day off. It's stupid. And it crushes all of a child's hope in the world. Your watching the snow fall, watching as it piles up higher and higher outside your window, and then you have go out in it because even though that snow drift could eat you, you have to go to school! It's a widely circulated theory among the students (and some staff), that our superintendant is from some place very far up North so what is a big deal to us in Webster is nary a flurry to him. Some say one of the Dakotas, others Minnesota, and some Antartica. No matter, it's cruel to have your hope slaughtered by snow.
Con 5: Cold. I hate being cold. And it doesn't take much to make me cold. I wear sweatpants and a sweater in the summer time, imagine what the winter weather does to me. Five minutes outside and my cheeks are rosy for a hour or more, and my teeth won't stop chattering. Oh did I mention that I had three layers on including a heavy duty coat? Yeah it's bad. In the winter, my toes are never fully defrosted. It's miserable.
Con 6: Severe illness. Let me just start this one out by saying that I have little to no respitory immune system. That is not an exageration either. That's what the doctor told me, so I have to be careful this time of year. Every body seems to have something too. A cold, or the flu; just something. And I always seem to get it. If someone coughs in my general direction I get whatever they've got. Most of the time I have to tough it out and go to school anyway, which isn't good but I can't miss too much school for every little thing I catch during the winter. But I hate it. Especially the coughing. The dry heave death rattle that steals the breath from your lungs and makes your chest hurt for hours after it happens. Last year was the first time in my memory where I didn't stay home for a week long period from some sort of illness. I'm hoping I can duplicate this phenomenon again this year.
Con 7: The dryness. What I mean by this is the chapped lips, and cracked hands. It's not fun. Why else do people give lotion as gift so often?
Con 8: The fact that I can't hibernate. Grrrrr... I just want to sleep in the winter and I'm not allowed. It's not the winter's fault but it's gettingblamed anyway.
Con 9: Gluttony. I know I said earlier I wasn't going to use Christmas but think about it. There are so many food holidays in winter: Thanksgiving, Christmas (and all the other December holidays e.g. Kwanza), New Years, and Valentines Day. All of these are stuffed to the gills with food, particularly sweets. Now I don't mind the food or sweets. In fact I love them. What makes this a con, is the overeating. The regret afterwards, that's the bad part. The momment where you go "Whoa, I shouldn't have eaten that..."
Con 10: Cabin fever. I can only take so much of the carols and the eggnogg before I'm bored with it all. And I'm trapped because of my cold issues. So really I do this to myself, but I still blame winter.
Even listing all my issues with winter out hasn't helped me decide if I like it or not. Maybe I'll figure it out as it's happening to me. After all my key issues with winter hinge on changable things, such as how many snow days or how sick I get. Hmmmmmm. We'll see.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
The Problem With People
Oh God there’s another one. That seemed to be my constant thought as I maneuvered through the crowds of Chesterfield mall. It was Saturday, the day after Black Friday, but nonetheless crowded. My mother was over at the library at a card making workshop and when she offered to take me to the nearby mall I jumped at the offer. I thought it would be a nice outing. Boy was I wrong.
The pale hardwood floors were packed with shoppers trying to sniff out the best holiday deal. Fifty bucks were tucked into a pocket of my black messenger bag, making it that much heavier. Yes, Mr. President, I will do my duty to boost the economy. Take my money. Ha! I love shopping desperately as my overburdened closet attests to. But today I was supposed to be shopping for my cousins’ Christmas presents. Although I don’t think Jacob’s broad shoulders would have fit into that red dress at Macy’s. And Nathan’s feet would not have fit into the size five ankle boots I was eyeing. Despite these discrepancies, I was in my element.
As I tried to find my way around one thing kept bugging the living daylights out of me. And by one thing what I really mean is two. Couples. They were everywhere. And why not? Tis the season. Teenaged couples were around every corner I turned but that is not the thing that irked me.
No, what bothered me was the way the girls were treating their boyfriends. Not necessarily horrible—there were no public floggings that I could see—but I still winced to see it. I just felt bad for those guys, even if they didn’t seem to mind too much. Two particular cases stick out in my mind.
One case I noticed by force as the girlfriend in question brushed past me (rather rudely I might add. Yes I am walking here wench!), dragging her boyfriend behind her. The event itself wasn’t that remarkable. What made me remember it though was the guy wisely had his nose buried in a book. Clearly he had been through this before. I almost laughed out loud because the pair looked so comical. The girl pulling the boy around the circle racks while he was trying to read; it was quite a sight. I wasn’t finding anything so I started towards the front. As I made my way out I saw the couple again. The girl brought her mini-parade to a halt before a woman I can only assume was the girl’s mother. She grabbed a sweater and held it up to her chest.
“What do you think?” the girl asked her mother
“I don’t know.” Said the mother.
“What do you think?” the girl turned to her boyfriend.
Without even looking up from his book her boyfriend replied, “Looks great babe.”
Even though I didn’t find anything I left that store smiling. I spotted couple number two heading towards the store I had just left. The girl—I’m tired of using the girl and the boy, this chick’s name is going to be Candy and I’ll name the guy when I get to him—Candy’s eyes got big and round when she saw the Sale sign. She smiled with her generic straight white teeth and clapped her hands. Yes folks, she actually clapped.
“Oh my God! We’re going in.” Candy squealed.
Spike, so named for his multiple piercing in his eyebrows and ears, must have decided it was time to take a stand. He told Candy no, they were not going in. Point for Spike. Spike was tallish with dyed black hair, which he currently had covered with a backwards baseball cap. He was wearing a tie-dyed t-shirt (bought not made) and jeans—your typical guy. Yeah he lost all his he-man points when Candy grabbed his wrist and pulled.
“NO! I don’t wanna go!” Spike whined
He tried to plant his feet but Candy persisted. She ended up dragging him into that store while Spike did something that closely resembled the Snoopy dance repeating his protest as he went.
What is wrong with both of these couples? To the guys: I’m sorry, so very sorry, because that was ridiculous. Don’t let that happen again. To the girls: You know your boyfriends don’t want to go shopping with you! So don’t take them! Go get your girlfriends. At least they’ll tell you what looks good on you, and will go into almost every freakin store anyway. As much as I feel ashamed for those guys, I am really ashamed of those girls. I want to shake some sense into them, or just shake them. I want to scream at them, “You can carry your own shopping bags! You do not need him to hold your purse! Do it yourself: he’s not a pack mule he’s your boyfriend!” Good gravy! And those guys just take it! Argh! Couples.
The pale hardwood floors were packed with shoppers trying to sniff out the best holiday deal. Fifty bucks were tucked into a pocket of my black messenger bag, making it that much heavier. Yes, Mr. President, I will do my duty to boost the economy. Take my money. Ha! I love shopping desperately as my overburdened closet attests to. But today I was supposed to be shopping for my cousins’ Christmas presents. Although I don’t think Jacob’s broad shoulders would have fit into that red dress at Macy’s. And Nathan’s feet would not have fit into the size five ankle boots I was eyeing. Despite these discrepancies, I was in my element.
As I tried to find my way around one thing kept bugging the living daylights out of me. And by one thing what I really mean is two. Couples. They were everywhere. And why not? Tis the season. Teenaged couples were around every corner I turned but that is not the thing that irked me.
No, what bothered me was the way the girls were treating their boyfriends. Not necessarily horrible—there were no public floggings that I could see—but I still winced to see it. I just felt bad for those guys, even if they didn’t seem to mind too much. Two particular cases stick out in my mind.
One case I noticed by force as the girlfriend in question brushed past me (rather rudely I might add. Yes I am walking here wench!), dragging her boyfriend behind her. The event itself wasn’t that remarkable. What made me remember it though was the guy wisely had his nose buried in a book. Clearly he had been through this before. I almost laughed out loud because the pair looked so comical. The girl pulling the boy around the circle racks while he was trying to read; it was quite a sight. I wasn’t finding anything so I started towards the front. As I made my way out I saw the couple again. The girl brought her mini-parade to a halt before a woman I can only assume was the girl’s mother. She grabbed a sweater and held it up to her chest.
“What do you think?” the girl asked her mother
“I don’t know.” Said the mother.
“What do you think?” the girl turned to her boyfriend.
Without even looking up from his book her boyfriend replied, “Looks great babe.”
Even though I didn’t find anything I left that store smiling. I spotted couple number two heading towards the store I had just left. The girl—I’m tired of using the girl and the boy, this chick’s name is going to be Candy and I’ll name the guy when I get to him—Candy’s eyes got big and round when she saw the Sale sign. She smiled with her generic straight white teeth and clapped her hands. Yes folks, she actually clapped.
“Oh my God! We’re going in.” Candy squealed.
Spike, so named for his multiple piercing in his eyebrows and ears, must have decided it was time to take a stand. He told Candy no, they were not going in. Point for Spike. Spike was tallish with dyed black hair, which he currently had covered with a backwards baseball cap. He was wearing a tie-dyed t-shirt (bought not made) and jeans—your typical guy. Yeah he lost all his he-man points when Candy grabbed his wrist and pulled.
“NO! I don’t wanna go!” Spike whined
He tried to plant his feet but Candy persisted. She ended up dragging him into that store while Spike did something that closely resembled the Snoopy dance repeating his protest as he went.
What is wrong with both of these couples? To the guys: I’m sorry, so very sorry, because that was ridiculous. Don’t let that happen again. To the girls: You know your boyfriends don’t want to go shopping with you! So don’t take them! Go get your girlfriends. At least they’ll tell you what looks good on you, and will go into almost every freakin store anyway. As much as I feel ashamed for those guys, I am really ashamed of those girls. I want to shake some sense into them, or just shake them. I want to scream at them, “You can carry your own shopping bags! You do not need him to hold your purse! Do it yourself: he’s not a pack mule he’s your boyfriend!” Good gravy! And those guys just take it! Argh! Couples.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
My Children
I am exhausted. Exhausted in every sense of the word. My back aches and my shoulders are full of knots. And I really wish I could just sleep and sleep and sleep. But I can’t. This exhaustion will likely last for days. It was all worth it though.
You see I am now the proud parent of two miniature schnauzer puppies. They’re only ten weeks old and are so dang small. Small but feisty. They’re giving our other dog, Eli, hell even while I’m writing this. If those two aren’t trying to eat his bone, then they’re biting Eli’s haunches.
Eli is not taking this well at all. He was uppity and territorial before but now he’s just cranky. He growls at the puppies over the slightest thing—trying in vain to make them come to heel. At the same time Eli is oddly mothering. When the two puppies get into a tussle Eli takes it upon himself to be the referee. It’s sweet.
Even with our dog babysitter Mom and I can’t seem to tear ourselves away from the little scamps. When we went through the pet store yesterday I ended up eyeing those stupid dog bags, thinking that way I could just take them to school with me and save myself the trouble of worrying over them all day. But I didn’t get one of the little dog carriers. I can’t bring myself to look like Paris Hilton.
And I have learned a valuable lesson: do not bring two puppies into a pet store! The pups were little angels; it’s the people who went nuts. We had to bring the puppies into Pets Mart so we could them collars and a few other necessities. It took us three times as long to get our shopping done because everyone and their cousin Jimmy had to come over and ask us the questions. What kind of dog is that? How old are they? Can I pet it? I shouldn’t be surprised though. Those two puppies are the cutest things in the world.
It was kismet when we picked out those two. The runny-eyed runt we finally decided to call Oliver, after Oliver Twist. If you look into his scraggly face you can almost hear him saying, “Please sir, I want some more.” He’s so spunky and curious and he fears absolutely nothing. His little face looks like it’s in a perpetual pout. But don’t let his cute face fool you, he’s an imp all the way through. You can tell when he bounces about on his bowlegs. Oliver is mine. Two days and he has already got me twisted around his little paw. He squeaks, I pick him up, and he climbs up my chest for the best and warmest view he can get. He squeaks a lot. It’s the only flaw I’m willing to admit he has.
The little girl’s name is Sadie. Officially, it’s Princess Sadie Grace but we’re trying not to let that get to her head. I believe we’re failing miserably. That little black ball of elegant fluff knows she’s hot stuff. Where Oliver is scraggily, Sadie is well kept and sophisticated looking. When we picked her up she was so calm, with the bearing of a refined lady (like Princess Grace Kelly, hence two-thirds of her name). That is all a sham. Our little lady is more of a live wire than her brother when she wants to be. She’s figured out by now how to grab Oliver’s collar and tug him where she wants, nearly choke him in the process.
It’s incidents like that that have had me on edge for the past two days. I keep monitoring them to see if Sadie is going to strangle Oliver, or if Oliver is going to bite Sadie’s ears. They’re on a strict schedule too. Sleep, outside, eat, play, outside, play, and sleep again. All of that in an hour or two. They go through life at warp speed and it’s all I can do to keep up. Oh did I mention they’re sleeping in my room? So I’m on their schedule not the other way around. No wonder I’m so exhausted.
You see I am now the proud parent of two miniature schnauzer puppies. They’re only ten weeks old and are so dang small. Small but feisty. They’re giving our other dog, Eli, hell even while I’m writing this. If those two aren’t trying to eat his bone, then they’re biting Eli’s haunches.
Eli is not taking this well at all. He was uppity and territorial before but now he’s just cranky. He growls at the puppies over the slightest thing—trying in vain to make them come to heel. At the same time Eli is oddly mothering. When the two puppies get into a tussle Eli takes it upon himself to be the referee. It’s sweet.
Even with our dog babysitter Mom and I can’t seem to tear ourselves away from the little scamps. When we went through the pet store yesterday I ended up eyeing those stupid dog bags, thinking that way I could just take them to school with me and save myself the trouble of worrying over them all day. But I didn’t get one of the little dog carriers. I can’t bring myself to look like Paris Hilton.
And I have learned a valuable lesson: do not bring two puppies into a pet store! The pups were little angels; it’s the people who went nuts. We had to bring the puppies into Pets Mart so we could them collars and a few other necessities. It took us three times as long to get our shopping done because everyone and their cousin Jimmy had to come over and ask us the questions. What kind of dog is that? How old are they? Can I pet it? I shouldn’t be surprised though. Those two puppies are the cutest things in the world.
It was kismet when we picked out those two. The runny-eyed runt we finally decided to call Oliver, after Oliver Twist. If you look into his scraggly face you can almost hear him saying, “Please sir, I want some more.” He’s so spunky and curious and he fears absolutely nothing. His little face looks like it’s in a perpetual pout. But don’t let his cute face fool you, he’s an imp all the way through. You can tell when he bounces about on his bowlegs. Oliver is mine. Two days and he has already got me twisted around his little paw. He squeaks, I pick him up, and he climbs up my chest for the best and warmest view he can get. He squeaks a lot. It’s the only flaw I’m willing to admit he has.
The little girl’s name is Sadie. Officially, it’s Princess Sadie Grace but we’re trying not to let that get to her head. I believe we’re failing miserably. That little black ball of elegant fluff knows she’s hot stuff. Where Oliver is scraggily, Sadie is well kept and sophisticated looking. When we picked her up she was so calm, with the bearing of a refined lady (like Princess Grace Kelly, hence two-thirds of her name). That is all a sham. Our little lady is more of a live wire than her brother when she wants to be. She’s figured out by now how to grab Oliver’s collar and tug him where she wants, nearly choke him in the process.
It’s incidents like that that have had me on edge for the past two days. I keep monitoring them to see if Sadie is going to strangle Oliver, or if Oliver is going to bite Sadie’s ears. They’re on a strict schedule too. Sleep, outside, eat, play, outside, play, and sleep again. All of that in an hour or two. They go through life at warp speed and it’s all I can do to keep up. Oh did I mention they’re sleeping in my room? So I’m on their schedule not the other way around. No wonder I’m so exhausted.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Give Me No Yellow Roses
When I came running up the steps of the senior entrance Friday night (I was a little late) one of the freshmen actors was being frog marched out the door. He was commanded in a harsh voice to turn three times to his right, spit, and curse. I asked what was going on.
My easygoing friend Ellen scowled and ground out, “He said the name of the Scottish play.”
I opened the door and wiped my boots on the worn rugs. Another of my friends, Erin, was glaring at the boy through the windowed panels of the door.
“God save me from the superstitions of theater people.” I mumbled as I headed to the auditorium.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m as superstitious as the next person. I don’t walk under ladders or open umbrellas indoors. The breaking of a mirror and the sight of a crow send a shiver down my spine. But I swear theater people have two superstitions for every one of an average person. I can’t possibly believe them all. But there are some things I do out of respect for others’ superstitions—yeah it’s out of respect but it’s also so they don’t have an epileptic fit—like say break a leg or not say a certain name.
As I went backstage I heard veteran actors murmuring in agitation over the saying of that name. Apparently more than one person had been saying the M-word. A total of five people said it. Forgive me for my snipe, but they were all freshman. The upperclassmen were ready to slaughter the lot of them. It was clear people were spooked.
You are not supposed to say Macbeth in a theater. It’s fine everywhere else but you absolutely cannot say it in a theater. It curses a production. Well that and it pisses a lot of people off.
Like I said before I am not inclined to believe all the superstitions that run rampant through the theater, but sometimes things happen that make you believe. Before the show even began on Friday night a girl almost fell down the stairs and three people couldn’t find important articles of clothing. Not too uncommon but the night just kept getting worse.
When I went out on stage something just didn’t feel right. The atmosphere just felt off—a disturbance in the force if you will. Hanging out backstage, waiting to go on, Ashley dropped a can of hairspray on her foot making it bleed. Mikes kept crackling or not coming on at the right times. None of us felt that the numbers were as smooth; something always seemed to go wrong.
I evacuated to the greenroom, a kind of sanctuary for the actors waiting in the wings. Kelly, Grace, Emily, and I sat up there whispering about all the strange coincidences that had been going on since the unmentionable had been mentioned. Someone told me Robin had hurt her hand somehow, and that Ashley’s toe was actually broken. It seemed like the actors were getting mauled.
Then the Havana number came up. We were still sitting in the greenroom we heard the music go terribly wrong. Something had happened to the pit. For some reason they skipped an entire section of the score and flipped around different parts. We sat up in our chairs and looked at each other in horror. That had never happened before.
“It’s the Scottish Play,” one of the girls whispered in dread.
When I went back downstairs at intermission the tension was bubbling over and people were getting violent. A screaming match was going on between a few actors over a comment or two. The pit band skulked out, well aware that they were being blamed for Havana and the intense hatred glowing in the eyes of actors. That one actor that I had seen on entering the theater was being smacked repeatedly for placing the curse upon the production. Everyone was running out of room on the edge.
Solemn faced people began lining up for act two. It seemed we were conceding to the dead king. I must admit act two went far better than act one, but there were still too many hitches to be coincidental. Sometimes things just happen without a reason. But if some idiot has said the M-word in a theater during a production there’s a reason. If you don’t believe the superstition then believe a former nonbeliever.
My easygoing friend Ellen scowled and ground out, “He said the name of the Scottish play.”
I opened the door and wiped my boots on the worn rugs. Another of my friends, Erin, was glaring at the boy through the windowed panels of the door.
“God save me from the superstitions of theater people.” I mumbled as I headed to the auditorium.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m as superstitious as the next person. I don’t walk under ladders or open umbrellas indoors. The breaking of a mirror and the sight of a crow send a shiver down my spine. But I swear theater people have two superstitions for every one of an average person. I can’t possibly believe them all. But there are some things I do out of respect for others’ superstitions—yeah it’s out of respect but it’s also so they don’t have an epileptic fit—like say break a leg or not say a certain name.
As I went backstage I heard veteran actors murmuring in agitation over the saying of that name. Apparently more than one person had been saying the M-word. A total of five people said it. Forgive me for my snipe, but they were all freshman. The upperclassmen were ready to slaughter the lot of them. It was clear people were spooked.
You are not supposed to say Macbeth in a theater. It’s fine everywhere else but you absolutely cannot say it in a theater. It curses a production. Well that and it pisses a lot of people off.
Like I said before I am not inclined to believe all the superstitions that run rampant through the theater, but sometimes things happen that make you believe. Before the show even began on Friday night a girl almost fell down the stairs and three people couldn’t find important articles of clothing. Not too uncommon but the night just kept getting worse.
When I went out on stage something just didn’t feel right. The atmosphere just felt off—a disturbance in the force if you will. Hanging out backstage, waiting to go on, Ashley dropped a can of hairspray on her foot making it bleed. Mikes kept crackling or not coming on at the right times. None of us felt that the numbers were as smooth; something always seemed to go wrong.
I evacuated to the greenroom, a kind of sanctuary for the actors waiting in the wings. Kelly, Grace, Emily, and I sat up there whispering about all the strange coincidences that had been going on since the unmentionable had been mentioned. Someone told me Robin had hurt her hand somehow, and that Ashley’s toe was actually broken. It seemed like the actors were getting mauled.
Then the Havana number came up. We were still sitting in the greenroom we heard the music go terribly wrong. Something had happened to the pit. For some reason they skipped an entire section of the score and flipped around different parts. We sat up in our chairs and looked at each other in horror. That had never happened before.
“It’s the Scottish Play,” one of the girls whispered in dread.
When I went back downstairs at intermission the tension was bubbling over and people were getting violent. A screaming match was going on between a few actors over a comment or two. The pit band skulked out, well aware that they were being blamed for Havana and the intense hatred glowing in the eyes of actors. That one actor that I had seen on entering the theater was being smacked repeatedly for placing the curse upon the production. Everyone was running out of room on the edge.
Solemn faced people began lining up for act two. It seemed we were conceding to the dead king. I must admit act two went far better than act one, but there were still too many hitches to be coincidental. Sometimes things just happen without a reason. But if some idiot has said the M-word in a theater during a production there’s a reason. If you don’t believe the superstition then believe a former nonbeliever.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
