Unfortunately for him, Mr. Zoom let it be known that leaving a drawer open a little bit drives him compulsive. The great thing for me is that I now have a new sass weapon that I don't even have to think about. My daily routine automatically leaves all drawers I open unclosed just about 1/2 an inch. I'm convinced it's the counter top that hangs over just a teeny bit - which gets in my closing way.
I've even started sending him e-mail at the office to let him know that the cabinet drawers in my cube are open a teeny bit. And I want to know if he's going to be ok.
I heart effortless sass.
I've also learned that he has a certain telephone ... um... practice. One evening I offered to call my parents and let them know we wouldn't make a weekend event with them. I thought I was going to do Mr. Zoom a favor by doing this while he changed clothes. Thank goodness I asked before I picked up the phone and started dialing, because it turns out that Mr. Zoom does NOT do telephone when he's ... er... nekkid or nearly nekkid.
And it wasn't like he'd have even been on the phone with them, or they would have really even known he was in the house. Much less sorta in an underwear and socks only state.
"So even though you won't be on the phone with them, and you know they can't see you ... you do know that right...you have a thing where the phone can't be in use because you are changing clothes?"
"Yes."
"BAHHHAHAHAH AHAHAHHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. HAHHHHH AHHAHAHHHAHAHAHHA BAHHHA HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHHA!! ...no, really. Be serious."
"I am."
"Snort Giggle....hoookay."
"Don't apply logic to it. It just is."
"You know this is going on the web, right?"
A few minutes later he told me to go ahead and call in our dinner order so we could pick it up. I protested "But...you aren't fully dressed yet."
"That's ok, because I don't know the people at _______ restaurant."
"Sooo, if you know the people on the other end of the phone, whether they even know you are in the room, ney - just the general vicinity of the phone and you might not be fully clothed, you can't have the phone in use. But total strangers, who you will be seeing in 10 to 20 minutes from which we will pick up our sustenance, THAT'S PERFECTLY OK?"
"Yes."
"This is totally going on the web."
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Friday, January 26, 2007
Hay's Wife is Dancing
I don't know crap about recognizing a brilliant lyricist, singer, band...bla bla bla. Most acts that I have been told are perfection incarnate - don't usually do much for me. Sometimes stuff grabs me, and it's absolute trash. Sometimes it's recognized brilliance. I'm not claiming to know the difference.
Last night Mr. Zoom took me to see Colin Hay co headline with Howard Jones at the Cerritos Performing Arts Center. I wasn't overly ecstatic to go to this show on a week night, but I am ever so glad tht I did. I owe Mr. Zoom a great big "You Were Right". Colin Hay rocks any and all parties so hard that Brad and Angelina wish he was a deprived orphan child so they could adopt him. And I bet he could blow the combover right off of Donald Trump's head.
I'm generally not a fan of the once huge, not quite one hit wonder, yet not occupying a ton of space in my music database, back from what feels like 10 years of gone missing band. I find it painful to see people holding on to what made them huge all those years ago when it just isn't appealing anymore. And I realize this is a very individual thing. For some fans, it might be the best thing ever to see a once huge band in a little location all those years later.
I'm not immune to cling myself. I'm positive I've held on to many things far past their expiration date - clothes, hairstyles and other things - yet people were kind enough not to point it out. But I'm not charging admission.
Mr. Zoom has followed Hay all these years, has all the albums. Aside from seeing Hay on Scrubs, I wasn't incredibly familiar with his music. Last night's show was Hay on a stage with probably 3 acoustic guitars. He spoke in between songs. Normally that talking too much thing drives me mad, but he was downright hysterical. A somewhat stand up type performance without the Laff Factory type atmosphere - mixed with stunning music. He's sarcastic, self depricating, funny, subtle, and genuine. His songs have all of those qualities too. I found myself really excited to hear the next "bit", song or talk - it didn't matter. The venue was so small it felt like being at a dinner party where a very charismatic guest steals the attention of everyone at the table without trying.
And his wife performed with him too. Now, when I say performed - I'm not sure that's the proper word. She does this thing where about halfway through his set she seems to sneak on stage and combine all forms of dance into this interpretive type accompanyment. It's so very hard to describe. And it's hard not to giggle at. You can tell she's literally compelled to do what she's doing - as if she's channeling. A mix of line dance, belly dance, rain dance and the worm, with some sign language and yodeling mixed in. As friends who also went described, she's impossible not to watch. I have to give it to Hay and his wife. They are obviously having a really great time doing what they are doing up there, and despite the giggle factor, they pull it off wonderfully.
It was nice to see someone who was so big in the past out performing, doing what he obviously loves, and doing it well without the aid of "Shooting Seizmore Flavor of Love Breaking Bonaduce" type exposure. Don't get me wrong. I adore the crazy of those shows. I am usually left horrified and amused at the documentation of all too real and disturbing difficulties in life. Hay's lack of "in your face my hard life" style of entertaining left me respecting him quite a bit.
Last night Mr. Zoom took me to see Colin Hay co headline with Howard Jones at the Cerritos Performing Arts Center. I wasn't overly ecstatic to go to this show on a week night, but I am ever so glad tht I did. I owe Mr. Zoom a great big "You Were Right". Colin Hay rocks any and all parties so hard that Brad and Angelina wish he was a deprived orphan child so they could adopt him. And I bet he could blow the combover right off of Donald Trump's head.
I'm generally not a fan of the once huge, not quite one hit wonder, yet not occupying a ton of space in my music database, back from what feels like 10 years of gone missing band. I find it painful to see people holding on to what made them huge all those years ago when it just isn't appealing anymore. And I realize this is a very individual thing. For some fans, it might be the best thing ever to see a once huge band in a little location all those years later.
I'm not immune to cling myself. I'm positive I've held on to many things far past their expiration date - clothes, hairstyles and other things - yet people were kind enough not to point it out. But I'm not charging admission.
Mr. Zoom has followed Hay all these years, has all the albums. Aside from seeing Hay on Scrubs, I wasn't incredibly familiar with his music. Last night's show was Hay on a stage with probably 3 acoustic guitars. He spoke in between songs. Normally that talking too much thing drives me mad, but he was downright hysterical. A somewhat stand up type performance without the Laff Factory type atmosphere - mixed with stunning music. He's sarcastic, self depricating, funny, subtle, and genuine. His songs have all of those qualities too. I found myself really excited to hear the next "bit", song or talk - it didn't matter. The venue was so small it felt like being at a dinner party where a very charismatic guest steals the attention of everyone at the table without trying.
And his wife performed with him too. Now, when I say performed - I'm not sure that's the proper word. She does this thing where about halfway through his set she seems to sneak on stage and combine all forms of dance into this interpretive type accompanyment. It's so very hard to describe. And it's hard not to giggle at. You can tell she's literally compelled to do what she's doing - as if she's channeling. A mix of line dance, belly dance, rain dance and the worm, with some sign language and yodeling mixed in. As friends who also went described, she's impossible not to watch. I have to give it to Hay and his wife. They are obviously having a really great time doing what they are doing up there, and despite the giggle factor, they pull it off wonderfully.
It was nice to see someone who was so big in the past out performing, doing what he obviously loves, and doing it well without the aid of "Shooting Seizmore Flavor of Love Breaking Bonaduce" type exposure. Don't get me wrong. I adore the crazy of those shows. I am usually left horrified and amused at the documentation of all too real and disturbing difficulties in life. Hay's lack of "in your face my hard life" style of entertaining left me respecting him quite a bit.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
My Point of Reference Went Home Early
It's strange how life slowly curves out from under you sometimes. It's like falling asleep at the wheel, only when you wake up you haven't crashed. You are just in a little bit of a different place than you were, and you aren't sure when, exactly, things changed.
I just haven't had the time to read and comment on my favorite blogs like I used to. You might say "But, you post, so you must have some free time in there?" I expel my current crazy at the office on a blank document, and then can only access blogger in a way where I can post, but can't read. Or comment. So while it might look like I'm spending some time in blog land, I'm not really. And if they have pictures, I've done them at home and fought long and hard with the computer.
And when I do get to read my favorites, I'm not even finding time to jot a comment. Partly because I'm not in the new account, so the commenting function all but tells me to F Off and refuses to acknowledge me or my jibber jabber in the comment section - and partly because what little time I do spend here, I want to read as many people as I can. Which leaves less time to comment.
So to any and all of you that are accustomed to seeing my nonsensical jibber jabber in your comments, it's probably not going to be that way any more. I might get a rare block of time, and if I do I will make sure I say hi.
In other words, you might not see evidence of my visits, but when I can I do. Or something.
In retardation news, I'm not having a lot of luck with the security at the new firm. The keypad that lets us into the office in the mornings looks exactly like an ATM pad. My firm now has a complete, repetitive record of my ATM card pin number - if they check my failed entry attempts. Turns out my pin number doesn't let me in the door - the assigned code does. But I can't seem to get the urge to put my pin number in the key pad out of my system. And the angry lights that blink at me when I put the wrong code in are starting to get a little old. Sometimes I'll wait for someone else to come by and act like I just got "there" too. I let them do the code thing so I can just follow them in.
There is currently a new sign on one of the doors indicating it would be really nice if people didn't attempt to enter the doors until the "click" of the lock release is heard. Apparently people inside and next to the doors are not as amused at my full speed crash into locked doors outside thing as I am.
Today after spraying my pants with Static Guard, I forgot to turn them right side out again. I even got the top hooks clasped before I tried to zip them up and couldn't figure out why the zipper wasn't "right".
Which incidentally, brings up another fact of life I've learned and am much amused with. There are a number of websites out there that gather all blog postings/web jibber jabber related to their particular product, and they link them - a compiler type thing - on their page. The pages are generally very weak attempts at - I'm not sure what. I think the idea is to sell advertising, but I'm still not sure. What makes me laugh is that at one point I wrote about how I don't like Dave Matthews. It was the story of how Mr. Zoom killed a clown while we discussed Dave Matthews and the fact that I noted: bad smell - Dave Matthews = Must.be.Related. At some point that entry was compiler linked to some Dave Matthews page.
So let me get this straight. I can compare Dave Matthews to a fetid smell that comes out of my husband's ass - and it gets linked to a site trying to convince you they are the authority on the subject?
AWESOME.
How did we get from inside out pants to Dave Matthews? Static Guard! Maybe that product has a compiler web page or 100 as well. Maybe I can convince someone that Static Guard turned my pants inside out. I don't know. I just see an opportunity to semi-mess with what is obviously not so much quality/relevance screening in that web linking process.
I just haven't had the time to read and comment on my favorite blogs like I used to. You might say "But, you post, so you must have some free time in there?" I expel my current crazy at the office on a blank document, and then can only access blogger in a way where I can post, but can't read. Or comment. So while it might look like I'm spending some time in blog land, I'm not really. And if they have pictures, I've done them at home and fought long and hard with the computer.
And when I do get to read my favorites, I'm not even finding time to jot a comment. Partly because I'm not in the new account, so the commenting function all but tells me to F Off and refuses to acknowledge me or my jibber jabber in the comment section - and partly because what little time I do spend here, I want to read as many people as I can. Which leaves less time to comment.
So to any and all of you that are accustomed to seeing my nonsensical jibber jabber in your comments, it's probably not going to be that way any more. I might get a rare block of time, and if I do I will make sure I say hi.
In other words, you might not see evidence of my visits, but when I can I do. Or something.
In retardation news, I'm not having a lot of luck with the security at the new firm. The keypad that lets us into the office in the mornings looks exactly like an ATM pad. My firm now has a complete, repetitive record of my ATM card pin number - if they check my failed entry attempts. Turns out my pin number doesn't let me in the door - the assigned code does. But I can't seem to get the urge to put my pin number in the key pad out of my system. And the angry lights that blink at me when I put the wrong code in are starting to get a little old. Sometimes I'll wait for someone else to come by and act like I just got "there" too. I let them do the code thing so I can just follow them in.
There is currently a new sign on one of the doors indicating it would be really nice if people didn't attempt to enter the doors until the "click" of the lock release is heard. Apparently people inside and next to the doors are not as amused at my full speed crash into locked doors outside thing as I am.
Today after spraying my pants with Static Guard, I forgot to turn them right side out again. I even got the top hooks clasped before I tried to zip them up and couldn't figure out why the zipper wasn't "right".
Which incidentally, brings up another fact of life I've learned and am much amused with. There are a number of websites out there that gather all blog postings/web jibber jabber related to their particular product, and they link them - a compiler type thing - on their page. The pages are generally very weak attempts at - I'm not sure what. I think the idea is to sell advertising, but I'm still not sure. What makes me laugh is that at one point I wrote about how I don't like Dave Matthews. It was the story of how Mr. Zoom killed a clown while we discussed Dave Matthews and the fact that I noted: bad smell - Dave Matthews = Must.be.Related. At some point that entry was compiler linked to some Dave Matthews page.
So let me get this straight. I can compare Dave Matthews to a fetid smell that comes out of my husband's ass - and it gets linked to a site trying to convince you they are the authority on the subject?
AWESOME.
How did we get from inside out pants to Dave Matthews? Static Guard! Maybe that product has a compiler web page or 100 as well. Maybe I can convince someone that Static Guard turned my pants inside out. I don't know. I just see an opportunity to semi-mess with what is obviously not so much quality/relevance screening in that web linking process.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Vacation Without Your Wife. How's That Working For You?
Mr. Zoom has the week off all to himself. I most recently changed jobs, which means I have no vacation time. Mr. Zoom gets a good chunk annually and since he's been at this "new" job a whole year, he found himself with the ability to take a whole week in January.
With all the advice flung at us pre wedding, nobody offered up the "Here's how you deal with you snoozing spouse when you have to wake up in record cold temperatures and drive away to work." advice.
The Sunday before his week started, I found myself amazingly bitter. I literally pouted on the couch over the fact that I would be working, he would not. Which was what I can only call the Crazy Woman No Logic Here Disease. I didn't want to be that girl, but I was. In fact, I was giving award winning performances. I even went to bed early.
I'm not sure you realize how much that says. I hate going to bed. I love sleeping, but I detest getting up and going into the bed place. I especially hate it when someone suggests that maybe I need to go there. I will fight Mr. Zoom so hard on this. I've been known to stand my ground on the couch, cuddled with my blanket and pillow, claiming "I can't go to bed now, I've got too much left to do." - and then 4 seconds later I'm unconscious.
Poor Mr. Zoom. I think I really hurt his feelings when I went to bed early. I want him to take vacation time without me. If he waited for me, he'd max out the vacation accrual and no doubt have finally told someone that they are a krunty old douchebag - and that's why their e-mail doesn't work. Then he'd be fired and he'd really have a lot of free time without me.
He's made me a crazy sissy girl. YES. This is all Mr. Zoom's fault. He loves me no matter how stinking retarded I act. I'd have told me to stop being ridiculous a long time ago. And then poked me in the eyes 3 stooges style if I still acted like a jackass.
No, instead he actually turned off the alarm I set to get myself up in the morning without him so that HE could be the one to get me up and into the shower this week. HE got up when he didn't have to, to do that for me.
And what did I do? How did I thank him? Here's how the conversation went:
"wha? Why didn't my cell phone alarm go off?"
"I turned it off..."
"WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?! Come back in 10 minutes." You need to be able to hear the shrillness with which I said "Why would you do that? in order to appreciate how much of an ass I was really being.
"Because I wanted to wake you up, I thought it would be easier for you."
"Come back at 7. I can't wake up on the first waking."
"I know."
So he came back and I stumbled into the shower. When I got out I realized he'd gone back to sleep. And my bitter crazy lady left the building. See, I know how much he HATES getting up out of bed when he doesn't have to. Especially if he's going to try and sleep through some more. So the fact that he got up just to wake ME up when he didn't have to - AND played snooze alarm with me - I mean, can anyone have a better husband than that?
I doubt it. And even if you think you have one, I'm ignoring you. Crazy Ladydom works on all kinds of levels. Let's hope it doesn't have to testify in divorce court.
With all the advice flung at us pre wedding, nobody offered up the "Here's how you deal with you snoozing spouse when you have to wake up in record cold temperatures and drive away to work." advice.
The Sunday before his week started, I found myself amazingly bitter. I literally pouted on the couch over the fact that I would be working, he would not. Which was what I can only call the Crazy Woman No Logic Here Disease. I didn't want to be that girl, but I was. In fact, I was giving award winning performances. I even went to bed early.
I'm not sure you realize how much that says. I hate going to bed. I love sleeping, but I detest getting up and going into the bed place. I especially hate it when someone suggests that maybe I need to go there. I will fight Mr. Zoom so hard on this. I've been known to stand my ground on the couch, cuddled with my blanket and pillow, claiming "I can't go to bed now, I've got too much left to do." - and then 4 seconds later I'm unconscious.
Poor Mr. Zoom. I think I really hurt his feelings when I went to bed early. I want him to take vacation time without me. If he waited for me, he'd max out the vacation accrual and no doubt have finally told someone that they are a krunty old douchebag - and that's why their e-mail doesn't work. Then he'd be fired and he'd really have a lot of free time without me.
He's made me a crazy sissy girl. YES. This is all Mr. Zoom's fault. He loves me no matter how stinking retarded I act. I'd have told me to stop being ridiculous a long time ago. And then poked me in the eyes 3 stooges style if I still acted like a jackass.
No, instead he actually turned off the alarm I set to get myself up in the morning without him so that HE could be the one to get me up and into the shower this week. HE got up when he didn't have to, to do that for me.
And what did I do? How did I thank him? Here's how the conversation went:
"wha? Why didn't my cell phone alarm go off?"
"I turned it off..."
"WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?! Come back in 10 minutes." You need to be able to hear the shrillness with which I said "Why would you do that? in order to appreciate how much of an ass I was really being.
"Because I wanted to wake you up, I thought it would be easier for you."
"Come back at 7. I can't wake up on the first waking."
"I know."
So he came back and I stumbled into the shower. When I got out I realized he'd gone back to sleep. And my bitter crazy lady left the building. See, I know how much he HATES getting up out of bed when he doesn't have to. Especially if he's going to try and sleep through some more. So the fact that he got up just to wake ME up when he didn't have to - AND played snooze alarm with me - I mean, can anyone have a better husband than that?
I doubt it. And even if you think you have one, I'm ignoring you. Crazy Ladydom works on all kinds of levels. Let's hope it doesn't have to testify in divorce court.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Scared of Falling Apart Wearing Elastic Pants
Wii time machine travel aside, I've just not been in the mood to come home and browse the internet lately. That means I haven't visited my favorite bloggers, either. Sorry guys.
There will be no awards for conversation clarity on my mantle. The post below encompasses something I tried to communicate to Mr. Zoom when I - out of the blue - said:
"I feel like I'm ready for elastic mom pants and a sweatshirt with a picture of a kitten embroidered on it."
Remember how I was allergic or becoming allergic to just about every food substance known to be not only edible, but fun? That problem, for the moment, seems to be solved.
Why am I not super excited about this? Why am I not rolling around in Trader Joes chocolate covered peanut butter pretzles?
Because it means taking another drug daily - for the rest of my life - to fix it.
Back when I was not taking any kind of medication, my life was a mess. Anxiety attacks had me housebound and hopeless. For over 10 years now, I've been taking something that prevents that. Makes me "normal" and productive - if not a lot weird and higly distractable. Although that isn't all due to the medication. Most of that was there long before meds. The point is, it took me a long time to get to a place where I'd take the medicine and not feel like a complete loser because I needed it to function.
I said "Ok, getting there sucked, but now I've got a chance for one damn near normal life. I should totally wear it." And I did.
After recently visiting the Dr. who fixed my anxiety problem for me, and discussing the various and multiple allergies I was beginning to collect, he lept out of his chair and started going through some charts in a book. He wrote me a prescription for - Hydroxyzine. Told me to take that, I should be able to eat anything I was previously having reactions to. I scoffed at him. Not only did I just not believe it possible, but I was afraid of it working.
I kept the prescription filled and unused for two whole months. I was afraid that taking it would interfere with the balance I've been able to keep for the past 10+ years. I was afraid that this new factor would throw something off and before I knew it, I'd be back to anxiety attacks I could not control.
Over New Year weekend, I sucked it up and took one of the pills. We didn't have any major plans and if my body mutinied on me, I would have time to recover. That night I had some shredded wheat. That ALWAYS makes me flare up within 4 hours and I'm usually miserable for a week over it. And I was FINE! Not one itch. Not one smidgen of discomfort!
The rest of that week I kept taking the pills and I ate everything I could think of that used to make me break out with the kind of itching where I would literally scratch some of the skin off in an attempt to get some relief. AND I DIDN'T HAVE ANY REACTIONS!
Here's what DID happen. Remember when you were a kid and you were being lectured by your parents? Remember how sometimes you thought it was over and you tried to walk away - just to hear "COME BACK HERE, I'm not finished with you yet."? You know that feeling you got when that happened? I feel like authority just called me back into the room after I made the mistake of thinking things were already taken care of. Only my body, my medication are my authority now. And how many more of these surprises will I face, and will they all be fixable?
I feel a little bit like I'm living on cheater time. Like my body was created in a way that I was never biologically meant to live a "normal" life - and how dare I try to defy it. Like I am now the monster created by the mad scientist - playing with biology and existence. All those things I used to consider medicine did for people when they got much older than I am now, as an attempt to squeeze out a few more good years for them before they ended up a crumpled blob - the cautionary moral of the story - in the corner of their room at the rest home.
But I'm not that old, and I guess I'm a little afraid I'm using up my medical advances a little too early. And I've watched far too many episodes of the Twilight Zone, where getting something you want artificially always seemed to make things worse than when they started.
I know it's futile to worry about what might happen. Really, I do. And I don't want to be all drama queen and claim that my "losing it" is any more devastating than any one else's on this planet. Because it's not. After all, any of us at any time could wake up and face a life changing situation concering our health. But it's difficult to enjoy the peanut butter now when you realize that at any moment you could be called right back into the room..."I'm not finsihed with you yet, put on this kitten sweatshirt."
There will be no awards for conversation clarity on my mantle. The post below encompasses something I tried to communicate to Mr. Zoom when I - out of the blue - said:
"I feel like I'm ready for elastic mom pants and a sweatshirt with a picture of a kitten embroidered on it."
Remember how I was allergic or becoming allergic to just about every food substance known to be not only edible, but fun? That problem, for the moment, seems to be solved.
Why am I not super excited about this? Why am I not rolling around in Trader Joes chocolate covered peanut butter pretzles?
Because it means taking another drug daily - for the rest of my life - to fix it.
Back when I was not taking any kind of medication, my life was a mess. Anxiety attacks had me housebound and hopeless. For over 10 years now, I've been taking something that prevents that. Makes me "normal" and productive - if not a lot weird and higly distractable. Although that isn't all due to the medication. Most of that was there long before meds. The point is, it took me a long time to get to a place where I'd take the medicine and not feel like a complete loser because I needed it to function.
I said "Ok, getting there sucked, but now I've got a chance for one damn near normal life. I should totally wear it." And I did.
After recently visiting the Dr. who fixed my anxiety problem for me, and discussing the various and multiple allergies I was beginning to collect, he lept out of his chair and started going through some charts in a book. He wrote me a prescription for - Hydroxyzine. Told me to take that, I should be able to eat anything I was previously having reactions to. I scoffed at him. Not only did I just not believe it possible, but I was afraid of it working.
I kept the prescription filled and unused for two whole months. I was afraid that taking it would interfere with the balance I've been able to keep for the past 10+ years. I was afraid that this new factor would throw something off and before I knew it, I'd be back to anxiety attacks I could not control.
Over New Year weekend, I sucked it up and took one of the pills. We didn't have any major plans and if my body mutinied on me, I would have time to recover. That night I had some shredded wheat. That ALWAYS makes me flare up within 4 hours and I'm usually miserable for a week over it. And I was FINE! Not one itch. Not one smidgen of discomfort!
The rest of that week I kept taking the pills and I ate everything I could think of that used to make me break out with the kind of itching where I would literally scratch some of the skin off in an attempt to get some relief. AND I DIDN'T HAVE ANY REACTIONS!
Here's what DID happen. Remember when you were a kid and you were being lectured by your parents? Remember how sometimes you thought it was over and you tried to walk away - just to hear "COME BACK HERE, I'm not finished with you yet."? You know that feeling you got when that happened? I feel like authority just called me back into the room after I made the mistake of thinking things were already taken care of. Only my body, my medication are my authority now. And how many more of these surprises will I face, and will they all be fixable?
I feel a little bit like I'm living on cheater time. Like my body was created in a way that I was never biologically meant to live a "normal" life - and how dare I try to defy it. Like I am now the monster created by the mad scientist - playing with biology and existence. All those things I used to consider medicine did for people when they got much older than I am now, as an attempt to squeeze out a few more good years for them before they ended up a crumpled blob - the cautionary moral of the story - in the corner of their room at the rest home.
But I'm not that old, and I guess I'm a little afraid I'm using up my medical advances a little too early. And I've watched far too many episodes of the Twilight Zone, where getting something you want artificially always seemed to make things worse than when they started.
I know it's futile to worry about what might happen. Really, I do. And I don't want to be all drama queen and claim that my "losing it" is any more devastating than any one else's on this planet. Because it's not. After all, any of us at any time could wake up and face a life changing situation concering our health. But it's difficult to enjoy the peanut butter now when you realize that at any moment you could be called right back into the room..."I'm not finsihed with you yet, put on this kitten sweatshirt."
Sunday, January 07, 2007
God Wants You To Vote Bikini
I love this God Truck I saw down in San Clemente. I don't know if those are bananas he's selling (on the back, towards the top?)
The text on the truck says "America's most beautiful women say our bush in the white house is better than no bush at all." "Go Good" (note Good, not God). And "Buy 2 and Save."
"Vote for God".
He had pretty much just started ... setting up when I came by. I should have stayed longer to see what other gems he had in there and for sale, no less. But I got a little spooked. When I'm in one place too long with the camera, accusations fly and grandmas get mean.
The text on the truck says "America's most beautiful women say our bush in the white house is better than no bush at all." "Go Good" (note Good, not God). And "Buy 2 and Save."
"Vote for God".
He had pretty much just started ... setting up when I came by. I should have stayed longer to see what other gems he had in there and for sale, no less. But I got a little spooked. When I'm in one place too long with the camera, accusations fly and grandmas get mean.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
2007. So Far So Wrong.
There is a lot wrong with 2007 already. Actually, it started in December 2006. But whatever, I choose to blame it on the 7.
Mr. Zoom and I are not those people. We don't hear about some item that isn't readily available from store or internet and go on some quest to have one. We've always just figured we'd get one later if we still wanted it. Life was predictable and good.
And then one day Mr. Zoom went to work and played with the Wii that a co-worker brought in. I am not technical and I am too lazy to google it, but Wii described in my own terms is an unfortunately named game platform, like a PS2 or something. It has wireless game controllers that one uses to play the games - interactively - different from "normal". The name Wii - actually now comes and goes in conversation without the giggles. I honestly thought that would never happen.
Mr. Zoom had to have one after playing with it. I snooted at him about how I just don't play video games that much. How I've managed to leave the Guitar Hero alone - therefore I am immune to video game lure. Because standing in front of the t.v. with a controller in my hand and wiggling around as if I'm doing the actual thing on the t.v. is NOT fun, how could it be? One would have to be drunk to subject themselves to that kind of game playing... I mean, haven't you tried to get a group of people to play Cranium before? The charades part is ALWAYS painful for everyone.
He still had to have one. So he got up at 3am and stood in line, in the rain, at a store he knew would have them. This was prior to Christmas, probably about a week. I supportingly rolled over in bed as he left and said "Ifsh you getsh one...put my name on it "To Mr. Zoom from Zoom", Merrshy Chrishmas." zzzzzzzzz. Emphasized with a diagonal bed take over by me.
So my husband became one of those people. He stood in line for hours, and he got the second to last Wii they had.
He brought it home and I flitted around him as he set it up, mostly so I could do my wife duty and say "You might want to read the instruction manual for that?." I superiorly watched from the sidelines as he began to play. The thing comes standard with Sports, which I even further tutted as "so not for me."
Now who's afraid of losing her pro bowling status and sparkly argyle patterned ball in Wii bowling? Yes, I have become one of those people. Dammit, I don't want to bowl with the plain ball.
Stupid Wii.
And here's the even better part. I've started yelling things out loud in response to strikes and spares. "UBANGI!"
...U. BANG. I. ... I don't know why, or where it came from, but that's my cheer now while we play.
Mr. Zoom talks to the golfing a lot. "Be the ball." "Be the 100" [when he's trying to play the version where you hit the ball onto a bulls eye type target] and "That might have a chance...might have a chance...." I told him that perhaps Wii isn't a fan of "Caddy Shack" and that might be the problem.
My favorite one from him so far is "Oh, THANK YOU for totally ignoring the laws of physics" when pins don't fall or balls don't land where he thinks they should.
We are now those people. And we are Pro.
Mr. Zoom and I are not those people. We don't hear about some item that isn't readily available from store or internet and go on some quest to have one. We've always just figured we'd get one later if we still wanted it. Life was predictable and good.
And then one day Mr. Zoom went to work and played with the Wii that a co-worker brought in. I am not technical and I am too lazy to google it, but Wii described in my own terms is an unfortunately named game platform, like a PS2 or something. It has wireless game controllers that one uses to play the games - interactively - different from "normal". The name Wii - actually now comes and goes in conversation without the giggles. I honestly thought that would never happen.
Mr. Zoom had to have one after playing with it. I snooted at him about how I just don't play video games that much. How I've managed to leave the Guitar Hero alone - therefore I am immune to video game lure. Because standing in front of the t.v. with a controller in my hand and wiggling around as if I'm doing the actual thing on the t.v. is NOT fun, how could it be? One would have to be drunk to subject themselves to that kind of game playing... I mean, haven't you tried to get a group of people to play Cranium before? The charades part is ALWAYS painful for everyone.
He still had to have one. So he got up at 3am and stood in line, in the rain, at a store he knew would have them. This was prior to Christmas, probably about a week. I supportingly rolled over in bed as he left and said "Ifsh you getsh one...put my name on it "To Mr. Zoom from Zoom", Merrshy Chrishmas." zzzzzzzzz. Emphasized with a diagonal bed take over by me.
So my husband became one of those people. He stood in line for hours, and he got the second to last Wii they had.
He brought it home and I flitted around him as he set it up, mostly so I could do my wife duty and say "You might want to read the instruction manual for that?." I superiorly watched from the sidelines as he began to play. The thing comes standard with Sports, which I even further tutted as "so not for me."
Now who's afraid of losing her pro bowling status and sparkly argyle patterned ball in Wii bowling? Yes, I have become one of those people. Dammit, I don't want to bowl with the plain ball.
Stupid Wii.
And here's the even better part. I've started yelling things out loud in response to strikes and spares. "UBANGI!"
...U. BANG. I. ... I don't know why, or where it came from, but that's my cheer now while we play.
Mr. Zoom talks to the golfing a lot. "Be the ball." "Be the 100" [when he's trying to play the version where you hit the ball onto a bulls eye type target] and "That might have a chance...might have a chance...." I told him that perhaps Wii isn't a fan of "Caddy Shack" and that might be the problem.
My favorite one from him so far is "Oh, THANK YOU for totally ignoring the laws of physics" when pins don't fall or balls don't land where he thinks they should.
We are now those people. And we are Pro.
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