thorvalson.net : babble ether

If You See This Woman at the Bar Tonight, Please Buy Her a Drink.

CHECK, PLEASE.

I woke up this morning wanting to listen to Superchunk. Hence, I am officially diagnosing myself with the winter blues.

My man, who is feeling better after a month of feeling like shit, is now back to the bricks at work, where I would be going today, were it not for the child in the bedroom who has taken up where he left off and gone and gotten herself a mild case of pinkeye, followed by a head cold, then morphing into a mysterious bellyache that began this morning, putting her sorry butt back in the sack. Yesterday's Sick Day included coming with me to work - always something I enjoy, having a five year old tugging on my sleeves while Joe Blow calls three times in an hour to see if he can make a block reservation with Jill, whom I have told him WILL NOT BE IN UNTIL AFTER 3 P.M. STOP CALLING ME, interrupted by a friendly representative from a collection agency wanting to know when I'm going to pay the $1500 to UWM that I thought was covered by my bankruptcy... OOPS.

Maddie was acting a little spry for a sick kid, so this morning's, "Moooom, my tummmmy huuuuurts..." was met with a swift, "If I catch you playing 'Kitties' with Solomon when you're supposed to be in bed, I will bring you straight to school, where you will remain until 5 p.m. in day care until I am finished with the work I was unable to finish yesterday due to your congested, agonizing need for a shepherd's pie."
She's actually in bed. 8:34 a.m. I can't believe it.

I love my child, don't get me wrong, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to Ireland.

Note to self: Next time, don't wait three years to take a vacation.

Now, if I can locate that Superchunk album... Ah! Look at that! Handily located on my iTunes. How... emo.

NaNo Strikes Back

Note: I post this more as a reminder to staple over my own head than as reading material. File under "Reference."

I just got an email from Chris Baty, founder of NaNoWriMo, encouraging all 2006 participants to do something wacko - in public - in 2007, i.e., set a goal of something fun and fearsome to do and then do it, in public where applicable. This was my list:

1. Learn Spanish.
2. Get back into Pilates, so that the scariest things about my 30th birthday will be my raging pythons and ass of steel.
3. Put together another children's photography show at my friends' cafe.
4. Get published, anywhere, anyhow.
5. Update blog.
6. Buy a bicycle. Ride it.
7. Play bass and/or guitar and/or sing in public.

Notice that none of these things involve any housework. Also note that the housework list does, in fact, exist, and is considered separate, as not all of these things will prove to qualify as "fun":

1. Finish painting the laundry room (a prerequisite of which would be clearing the laundry room of its laundry, a goal I have been pursuing for at least the last six months, a long, hard battle yet to be won).
2. Fireplace! Okay, "fun."
3. Begin work on upstairs.
4. Organize my closet.
5. Organize my desk/file 2006 stuff.
6. Organize photos.

I Heart God

Asserting My Right to Vent Grievances

Hmm... Our Dear Leader signs into law his supreme right to open citizens' mail without a warrant, and a few days later, hires Reagan's lawyer...

Oh, GOODIE!

Note to Mr. Bush: You're gonna need him. I'm waiting for next week's article on Johnny Cochran being added to form a Dream Team.

Oh, and this is a fun website, too. Whoo-ee! Now THAT'S the Christmas party I should have gone to. Their bonuses are 220% of their salaries! Congratulations, Halliburton, on a fine year!
p.s. Hey, David! Can I borrow $30 for an oil change? I mean, technically, you'd be making some of that money back, anyway... Help me help you.

I could be wrong. According to this website, David actually made a lot more than that. Wanna see how you compare? Give this handy-dandy salary comparison calculator a whirl! I'd only have to work for 792 years to make what ol' Davey Boy made in 2005 - but I'd better start cracking, because with my current "perks", I won't get a vacation until the year 2798!

If that's just not nearly enough fun for ya, researching US labor trafficking in Iraq promises to be a hoot. You could start by buying - or, better yet, organizing a screening of this movie:

Ever hear of KBR? Look 'em up on the internet. You can get a great job driving empty trucks back and forth along Iraq highways, dodging (or, oops! almost dodging) bullets. It's like Dodgeball, with live ammo!

I should be on their commercial advertising team: KBR: What a blast!

Pardon me while I retrieve my barf bucket...

Eureka!

"...the more reasonably you try to act, the more unpredictable you are".

Does this mean that my efforts to take better care of myself by going to bed earlier, drinking and smoking less, and getting places on time actually serve to make me wild and effervescent?

"Going to bed at 8:30, honey? That's so... so... unpredictable! Unexpected! Wild. Rrrowwrr."

More importantly, if it's been predetermined already that I am going to flake on completing the washing (and the worst part, the folding and putting away) of this week's piles of laundry, shouldn't I just accept that premise and go ahead with enjoying my day doing other, more appealing things?

But perhaps the illusion of my "decision" to enjoy my day has been predetermined as well... Hmmm...

I asked this Northern woman, "Where are y'all from?" And she said, "I'm from a place where we don't end our sentences with prepositions." So I said, "Okay, where are y'all from, bitch?" - Charlene, Designing Women

It is with great honor and pride that I congratulate my dear niece, Ayla Fay (pronounced AAAAY-luh FAAY, accent on the first drawl, preferably while holding a collection of framed, autographed photos of the cast of Designing Women), on her first kill, and wish to remind our viewers at home of three very important things:

1) Don't take it out on your family, folks. Take it out on God.

2) Keep in mind that while this kind of behavior is encouraged within my family, the same may not be true in yours. It helps if you have both military training and the wherewithal to give your child, patently, the most Southern name in all the sweet, south-y south.

3) She's a sharp shot, folks. Don't be fooled by the charming blonde head. There's blood on them there camos, I tell you - BLOOD!

Dude, It's a New Year 'n Shit: 2007

It's been at least twelve years since that phrase first entered the Steph and Trace Vocabulary Book, and I'm still not tired of it.

Greg always tells people he doesn't make New Year's resolutions because the things most people resolve to accomplish (and usually forget about by the 15th of January) are things he thinks about and tries to achieve every day. In past years, I've not made resolutions for essentially the same reason, only when I explained it, it came out more like, "Man, resolutions are, like, bullshit." That little wire that connects my thoughts to my mouth is still, after all these years, not as conducive to expression as the ol' digits, it would seem. Whichever explanation you prefer, I'm going along with it again this year. But if I had to make some kind of resolution, these would be among the contestants:

1. Quit smoking (see hand-written note dated February 1994, alluding to same, still posted on the fridge). I still only smoke when having a libation, however, this compromise of "easing myself" into the life of a non-smoker has been stretched to the point of ridiculousness after, oh, four years on the patch. It's time I kick it in the ass.

2. Work out more, so that when 2007 comes to a close and I start freaking out about turning 30, I will be able to punch the lights out of anyone who tells me to quit my whining. Also because my boyfriend is a hottie and I can't have him walking around with someone who looks like she just got out of chemo.

3. Have more patience with my daughter, make more time to do fun things, before her memory bank has built the complexity and long-term capacity to remember as a teenager exactly how, when, and why she got her start in an illustrious career on the couch in therapy.

4. Rock.

Happy New Year, everybody!

And a happy (belated) 35th birthday to G Dubya, who will actually feel validated and fulfilled when he reads these words:

Damn, baby, you gettin' OLD.