Goshdarnit, I WILL update, even if I have nothing to say!

I have not abandoned this blog - not on purpose, at least - and I know I've already used the "work doesn't let me spend all day blogging" excuse, but I have to plead it again. And in two new ways: 1) They took away my gmail! They were already attempting to block all email, but had overlooked gmail, which I could use to mail in posts (which I only did about once, but still, the option was there), and 2) for the last 2 and a half weeks, everything is "an emergency." Everything is urgent, and this urgency is coming from multiple sources (meaning multiple "emergencies") all at once. Causing me to be all tensed up in front of a computer for too many hours, and by the time I'm home, my right shoulder and hand are all cramped up from too much mouse use. Seriously, something has to be done about the shoulder.

So here I am posting just for the sake of posting! Hi! I did have a couple of different topics I was going to write about, but I've forgotten them all. (Another side-effect of work: my brain is so tired by the end of the day! Stinks.) I do remember one was going to be a list of disturbing moments I had had recently, but I can only remember one of those, and that doesn't exactly make a list, does it? But I will tell it to you anyway!
So, I was driving one evening, and while stopped at a light, looked up and saw a sign that read "Fall Festival" - and I immediately got very excited! Because a fall festival sounds like the bestest! And I wanted to go! And then I read more, and saw that that this festival would include a petting zoo. "hmm," I thought, "ok, I must be in front of a school. That's ok. It's ok that I'm excited about something targeted at small children." So then I looked further and saw a sign that read, "Such-and-such Assisted Living. With a special unit for the memory impaired."
Wow. While I'm ok with being a kid, I am not quite so ok with being elderly. And this isn't a little elderly. This is A LOT elderly. Or AM I ready to be put in a home? I mean, I clearly don't like working. I wonder if they have age minimums at those things...

I do have news. I'm moving. Just locally, but it's a move all the same. In fact, my living situation since July is something that could have provided a whole stream of blogworthy material, if only I wasn't too ashamed to write about it. See, my old place that I lived in with Creepy Man was bought, and the new owner decided to renovate and kicked us all out, and I decided I'd be a big girl and buy a home. (And by "home" I mean "tiny condo.") But through a complex series of events, I changed my mind. In the meantime, I needed somewhere to stay while I carefully made me buying decision. So I put all my things in storage, and moved into a temporary living arrangement. That was supposed to be no longer than a couple of months. And here I am at the end of November, with all my winter clothes and shoes in a storage unit in the 'burbs. So I decided it was time to take some action, and I found myself an apartment. Because if December isn't busy enough, I need a move on top of everything else.

And this move is significant because it will be my first time living by myself! I'm excited and a little nervous at the same time. (As one "friend" recently said, "You're moving just in time to be alone for the holidays." Thanks.)

So, before I settled on this ancient apartment with it's ancient fixtures in an ancient building, I was considering other apartments in equally old buildings that were much newer and cuter on the inside and outside. But they were also smaller and more expensive. But everytime the rental lady pointed out something like, "Yes, there's only one closet, but it's a good sized closet!" I found myself thinking, "Totally! It's a great closet! I can definitely fit my extradnarily large amount of crap in here!" Because I am easy like that - I want to believe everything I'm told.

So before committing to these cute pricey apartments, I thought it would be a good idea to bring in a second opinion. I need someone with a critical eye. And who has the most critical eyes in the world? Our mothers.
That poor, poor rental lady. She took me through every one of those apartments again, this time with my mother in tow. And I was right, she was critical. About EVERYTHING. She made me want to hide.
It was everything from, "hm. This is it? hm. It sure is small."
to, "I don't know why it's so dark in this closet." (Lady points out that there's a light.) "Well, I KNOW there's a light. But why on earth are these closest walls so dark? I can't imagine why you haven't painted them white."

to, "Now, what about that window?"
Rental Lady and I both look around, confused. Because we are outside the building, and my mom is pointing at something away from the apartment. We locate a random window in a stairwell.
Rental Lady: "You mean... the cobwebs...?"
Mom: "No. Are they going to replace that window? It's different from the other windows."
RL: "uh... if they haven't now, then no, probably not."
Mom: "Hmph."

to,
Rental Lady: "This was my husband's apartment before we got married." (big smile)
Mom: "This is my least favorite so far."

but my favorite was this series:
Mom: "I smell gas."
RL: "We just painted."
Mom: "It smells like gas."
RL: We JUST painted. I think it's the paint."
Mom assumes a hunched over position, and with her nose in the lead, commences to smell every appliance in the kitchen. we go to the next apartment, and she does it again. She doesn't just look, she SMELLS.

I got my 2nd opinion all right. She told me that although they were cute, with all my stuff, I would "junk them up." So I went with the old place with a little more closet space. Although I have to wonder, if the owner had been showing it to us, instead a cute friendly girl who lived there and had nothing to gain, would I have been influenced the same way?
I know my mother, and I'm going to say probably not.

Well, I'm off to pack! I have a 2 year old niece to play with tomorrow. And I'm guessing you didn't make it this far through this disjointed post, anyway.
Happy Thanksgiving!

lil' Winnie-pooh

I thought I was seeing a younger, sexier Keanu Reeves on collegehumor.com tonight, but wait! It's not Keanu! It's Winston Noel!!
Winston is probably my brother's oldest goodest friend. They first met in elementary school, when Winston was a gangly kid with a bowl-cut and big round glasses. (Brock, you got any pictures? I do enjoy a good awkward years picture.) According to our mothers, they met when they were 4 - because that's when our mothers met in the Santa Claus line. It seems the moms both shared a love of chatting to strangers and holding line spots while dashing out for snacks. They stayed in school together all the way through college, where they were roommates. And Winston recently served as my brother's best man. Basically, he's put up with more Brock than I have.

He was recruited for this Matrix spoof after impressing with a Keanu impression in an improv sketch.

Take a look: It's The Matrix - were it run on Windows XP.

(Note: I just realized that on a wide computer screen I can see the whole picture just fine, but on my little laptop it gets cut off. You could also go to collegehumor.com to watch this. There's probably a way to fix it here, but I am old, and that all sounds like gobbledy-gook. Besides, I have to get to work and get my soul sucked out of me some more.)

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

my communist computer

After an... interesting Halloween, to say the least, I woke up Saturday morning sick.  Well, I woke up with a sore throat, and thought it was due to my interesting Halloween, but by Saturday night I was romanticising about what deadly disease had taken hold of me, and wondering how long before it would bring sweet sweet death.  And then Sunday I woke up and realized I just had a cold.  Anyway.

Because I'm kinda new at work here and I have yet to see a person take a sick day, I came in today all scratchy-voiced and nose-blowing and glassy-eyed.  To show that I can work.  And then you know what happened?  I haven't gotten much done.  My brain is in slow motion.  I just keep making my mugs of hot water with lemon and honey, and looking for files on my computer, and shuffling around papers, and then going back to the microwave to heat my water back up again.  I am going to suffer for this later this week, surely.  But if nothing else, maybe I will lose 20 pounds this week from my new water/lemon/honey diet!  You think?  Or maybe it's more likely that my teeth will just rot out.

 

Because it's the day before election day, and since I'm not getting much done anyway, I attempted to do what I always do the day before an election, and look online for a voter's guide to educate me.  I mean, I know who I'm voting for for president, but I know the ballet is going to be more complicated than that, and as my friend Blay pointed out on her blog today, uneducated voters are kind of despicable.  And you know what??  My work firewall or whatever it is is blocking me from reading educational election related articles that I would like to read!  I mean, if I vote wrong and the country suffers then my company suffers and that's what they get for this firewall!!  And yet, it DID let me look at a picture of Joaquin Phoenix with "goodbye" painted on his knuckles (Blues Brothers style), and read about how he's leaving the movie industry. 

Does this make sense?

And by the way, Joaquin, you will be missed.  You were as creepy as creepy can get in Gladiator, and yet you still made me like you.  This is no small feat.

 

And speaking of actors that will be missed, how is it possible that I have a blog and have not mentioned Paul Newman??  He's my all time favorite.  Did you know that he gives away all his profits from his food?  And all the nice things he says about his wife?  And did you SEE him in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof??  If not, you deserve to.  And I would post some photos right now, but that's right, google image is also blocked.  Although it doesn't really matter since blogger is as well and I can only email in text.  yes, it's a tough life I lead.

I mean, do they expect me to pick up a paper or watch the news on my own time?  sheesh.

 

I'm reading back over this now and wondering what the point was going to be... I think it's purpose was to assist me in having a most unproductive day.  And to wish you best of luck in your time wasting, too.

knee stories: best and worst

The best thing I heard today:

A friend, who is a large 6'8 - I mean, he fills out his height, had knee surgery this past summer, and is still limping around a little bit. But I was never clear on the exact way he injured his knee. So what does one guy friend do for another guy friend? He tells the story for him. Up to this point all I had heard was that there had been a sports injury. Well, apparently there had been a sports injury - a catching a ball and then falling down during a kickball game injury - but this was not the cause for the surgery. It seems that while in a bar one night, my large friend attempted a Michael Jackson dance move - he gave a little kick, and a high-pitched Michael squeal, which was then quickly followed by a groan of pain, and hitting the floor.
He had to be carried out. By another big friend, and one very small friend.

The worst knee injury story I've heard:

(If I've already told this one, well, then just skip ahead. To... uh... nothing.)
A guy who I know is a frequent soccer player has to wear a knee brace when he plays. So when I asked him about his injury, I assumed it was a soccer related one. I mean, soccer players hurt their knees all the time. And he played a lot! And he's an athlete - this makes sense, right? But the story went something like this:
"See, I was out one night, dancing, and this guy, he came up to me, and started dancing. And he was trying to be better than me, so I started doing my moves, and it was just one of my moves that I always do, but somehow, I blew out my knee."
Now, what would make this a great story would be if a friend told me this about a new guy she was seeing. But what makes it a terrible story is that it was a guy I was seeing.
These little details can make all the difference.