Friday, April 4, 2008
The concept of the Away message
You know, much as I love the Hawaiian Hottie, he is a bit dense. Sometimes more than a bit. I logged onto Yahoo Messenger this morning, and put up my Away message because I was busy. Two seconds later, he messages me. "Hey, I have some time if you want to talk." Good for you, HH, I don't have time! That's what an Away message is for! Guess that's a man for ya. ;)
Some people scare me
So the Lipizzaner Stallions (www.lipizzaner.com) happened to be coming to our small town today. My mom had seen them as a child and had long gushed over them, so Mr. Samoa and I decided to go. We only lasted until intermission, for as it turned out dressage is not my cup of tea, and sitting crammed up in basketball stadium seats for two hours is not the fibromyalgia's cup of tea. (The horses, however, were indeed very pretty, and I got a nice stuffed horsie. ) But that is not the point of this blogging.
Intermission came, and Mr. Samoa and I were in line at the concession stand, being as we had had no dinner. We came to the realization that we were going to need to go get cash, as concessions were, well, concessions (i.e. a small Coke and a popcorn cost more than my grad school tuition) and they did not accept debit cards. I was griping about this, and I said something, I don't even remember what exactly, but the end of it was something about nothing costing less than $3.00. This part will be forever etched on my brain, because of what happened next.
Suddenly, I felt the heels of both my feet being squashed, as a booming voice shrieks right in my ear "NOTHING LESS THAN THREE DOLLARS? ARE YOU SURE!! THE NERVE OF THESE PEOPLE!! [or similar]" I turned around, and a woman with gigantic frizzy hair was literally standing on the backs of my feet, shrieking Right. In. My. Ear. about the cost of refreshments. Just carrying on about this. "Uh, ma'am, you're standing on me," I said. No response; I doubt she heard a thing, as she was too busy trying to relieve me of all hearing in my left ear. I tried to move away from her, and she kept moving with me, using her Outdoor Voice all the while. Mr.Samoa is not the quickest thing on the uptake, and he cheerfully chirps, "We could get nachos!" So, as she starts shrieking about nachos, I said, through my gritted teeth, "No. I do not want nachos. We are going to our seats. Now." I honestly think she would have kept following us if I hadn't dragged Mr. Samoa away from the line stat. It would appear that the local lunatic asylum had organized its yearly outing. :P * In the end, we wound up leaving early and going to Taco Bell for dinner, and got doughnuts for dessert. All was well that ended well. :)
*NB: I know it is the trend these days to attempt to explain away the behavior of clods by claiming the possibility of their having some sort of mental disability, mental illness, and the like. Nice try. I spend about 3/4 of my life around people with mental disabilities, and have mental illness running like the mighty Mississippi through my family tree. I can spot both a mile off. This was a bigger clod than the ones normally thrown at Ozzfest. Let's save the sympathy for those who actually need it, eh? :P
Intermission came, and Mr. Samoa and I were in line at the concession stand, being as we had had no dinner. We came to the realization that we were going to need to go get cash, as concessions were, well, concessions (i.e. a small Coke and a popcorn cost more than my grad school tuition) and they did not accept debit cards. I was griping about this, and I said something, I don't even remember what exactly, but the end of it was something about nothing costing less than $3.00. This part will be forever etched on my brain, because of what happened next.
Suddenly, I felt the heels of both my feet being squashed, as a booming voice shrieks right in my ear "NOTHING LESS THAN THREE DOLLARS? ARE YOU SURE!! THE NERVE OF THESE PEOPLE!! [or similar]" I turned around, and a woman with gigantic frizzy hair was literally standing on the backs of my feet, shrieking Right. In. My. Ear. about the cost of refreshments. Just carrying on about this. "Uh, ma'am, you're standing on me," I said. No response; I doubt she heard a thing, as she was too busy trying to relieve me of all hearing in my left ear. I tried to move away from her, and she kept moving with me, using her Outdoor Voice all the while. Mr.Samoa is not the quickest thing on the uptake, and he cheerfully chirps, "We could get nachos!" So, as she starts shrieking about nachos, I said, through my gritted teeth, "No. I do not want nachos. We are going to our seats. Now." I honestly think she would have kept following us if I hadn't dragged Mr. Samoa away from the line stat. It would appear that the local lunatic asylum had organized its yearly outing. :P * In the end, we wound up leaving early and going to Taco Bell for dinner, and got doughnuts for dessert. All was well that ended well. :)
*NB: I know it is the trend these days to attempt to explain away the behavior of clods by claiming the possibility of their having some sort of mental disability, mental illness, and the like. Nice try. I spend about 3/4 of my life around people with mental disabilities, and have mental illness running like the mighty Mississippi through my family tree. I can spot both a mile off. This was a bigger clod than the ones normally thrown at Ozzfest. Let's save the sympathy for those who actually need it, eh? :P
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Addictive behavior
I never thought I had an addictive personality, but I think I was wrong. I have become addicted to shoes. In the last two weeks, I have bought three pairs. Crocs in particular have become like crack to me. Why couldn't it have been dollar store flip flops or something? :P
Zounds!
I don't know if I've ever told you all about Mr. Samoa's employment. Basically, he works for Fairly Major State University (from now on, FMSU) in a field best described in my father's words: "He told me what he did once, but I still didn't understand what he did when he was done." So, you can read the following with that background in mind.
Mr. Samoa is somewhere around the middle of the food chain in his department at FMSU. It's the underlings, then him and his friend the Mullet Recoveree (MR), then his boss, then his boss' boss, then the Head Bazonga. Well, it seems that his boss was scheduled to meet with the Head Bazonga tomorrow, and he couldn't, so tapped Mr. Samoa to go in his stead. I learned this tonight while I was minding my own business and watching Most Shocking, and Mr. Samoa chirps, "Guess what? I get to meet with the Head Bazonga tomorrow!" Like he's mentioning he's meeting a long-lost pal for lunch or something. I got up from where I had fallen off the couch onto the floor, did a few spins around the living room ceiling, then flew into action. I dug up Mr. Samoa's brown dress shoes and found a decent shirt, no mean feat since most of the ones he has are in the wash. (Steve & Barry's here we come again, I think.) So, I think he'll be presentable for the Head Bazonga tomorrow.
I would like to take this time to point out once again how very proud I am of Mr. Samoa's achievements. He probably doesn't believe me at 3 AM when I'm whacking him in the ribs and telling him if he doesn't quit snoring he's going out in the doghouse with DD2, but I am. He is a sociable and likable person (have no idea HOW he married me- people either develop an odd twitch or start discussing the weather in high-pitched tones, or both, when I come up) and so has progressed very well in his field. I am quite proud of him.
In Chin News, deposit has gone out. Tentative ETA for the little guy in our fair state is Monday the 14th. I am excited!
Mr. Samoa is somewhere around the middle of the food chain in his department at FMSU. It's the underlings, then him and his friend the Mullet Recoveree (MR), then his boss, then his boss' boss, then the Head Bazonga. Well, it seems that his boss was scheduled to meet with the Head Bazonga tomorrow, and he couldn't, so tapped Mr. Samoa to go in his stead. I learned this tonight while I was minding my own business and watching Most Shocking, and Mr. Samoa chirps, "Guess what? I get to meet with the Head Bazonga tomorrow!" Like he's mentioning he's meeting a long-lost pal for lunch or something. I got up from where I had fallen off the couch onto the floor, did a few spins around the living room ceiling, then flew into action. I dug up Mr. Samoa's brown dress shoes and found a decent shirt, no mean feat since most of the ones he has are in the wash. (Steve & Barry's here we come again, I think.) So, I think he'll be presentable for the Head Bazonga tomorrow.
I would like to take this time to point out once again how very proud I am of Mr. Samoa's achievements. He probably doesn't believe me at 3 AM when I'm whacking him in the ribs and telling him if he doesn't quit snoring he's going out in the doghouse with DD2, but I am. He is a sociable and likable person (have no idea HOW he married me- people either develop an odd twitch or start discussing the weather in high-pitched tones, or both, when I come up) and so has progressed very well in his field. I am quite proud of him.
In Chin News, deposit has gone out. Tentative ETA for the little guy in our fair state is Monday the 14th. I am excited!
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
What do you say to this?
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080401/ap_on_re_us/children_s_plot
I really, really have no words. Basically, if the link doesn't work, this is about a group of nine third-graders who plotted to kill their teacher. (Plot was averted.)
This just blows my mind. I really wouldn't think too much about it if it had come from high-schoolers, but 1) since when do 9 y/o's have that kind of plotting capability? 2) the idea of that age group wanting to kill their teacher is a bit disturbing. I mean, I had some shitty teachers (Mrs. W who was focused on the popular kids and didn't notice that I couldn't add and subtract, and Mrs. F who was determined to "put me in my place" because I was a smart kid, here's to you!) but I cannot say that it ever occurred to me to go Teaching Mrs. Tingle on them. It sure as hell didn't occur to me when I was that age! And I don't think it has to do with times being that different, either. Daisy, Mr. Samoa's niece, is that age exactly, and she doesn't have home advantages (attentive parents and the like) that these kids might not have either. And yet, I honestly don't think such a thing would occur to her, and she's certainly not capable of plotting it out if it did. It is going to be interesting to see how this all shakes out.
I really, really have no words. Basically, if the link doesn't work, this is about a group of nine third-graders who plotted to kill their teacher. (Plot was averted.)
This just blows my mind. I really wouldn't think too much about it if it had come from high-schoolers, but 1) since when do 9 y/o's have that kind of plotting capability? 2) the idea of that age group wanting to kill their teacher is a bit disturbing. I mean, I had some shitty teachers (Mrs. W who was focused on the popular kids and didn't notice that I couldn't add and subtract, and Mrs. F who was determined to "put me in my place" because I was a smart kid, here's to you!) but I cannot say that it ever occurred to me to go Teaching Mrs. Tingle on them. It sure as hell didn't occur to me when I was that age! And I don't think it has to do with times being that different, either. Daisy, Mr. Samoa's niece, is that age exactly, and she doesn't have home advantages (attentive parents and the like) that these kids might not have either. And yet, I honestly don't think such a thing would occur to her, and she's certainly not capable of plotting it out if it did. It is going to be interesting to see how this all shakes out.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Happy April
I had something that I was going to rant about, but I have forgotten it. So I'll just post and say Happy April. No April Fools jokes, people! :)
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