When not busy neglecting this weblog, I moderate the Top5 Pets list, a spinoff of the Top Five List (links to both found in the left-hand column of this page). Humor lists about pets naturally involve a fair amount of references to butt sniffing, neutering, and bodily functions of many types. Top5 Pets is a leader in those lowbrow arenas. Imagine then how gratified I was when today's hit counter showed two successive visits from these locations associated with higher learning of the finest kind:
27 November 12:42 Oxford Brookes University, Oxford, United Kingdom
27 November 12:43 NTL Internet, Cambridge, United Kingdom
Whoo! Pip pip for me. Jolly good show, old girl.
The very next hit:
27 November 12:53 University of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, United States
Gee, it's hot in here; I think I'll take my new clogs off
Simple pleasures rule, baby! Yesterday I took delivery of two pair of Lands' End All Weather Clogs in black and taupe brown. Having funny feet (not funny ha-ha, unless heel spurs and bunions are funny), I normally prefer to buy my footwear in person, but since I had been unable to find the right sort of clogs in the two shoe stores I actually looked in, I threw caution to the wind like a girl and took my clogquest online. The foot gods smiled upon me; not only did my new clogs arrive in just a few days but they fit poifectly and are SO comfy! I wanted to wear them to bed, even. When my feet are happy, I am happy. You might want to clear the floor because I'm about to break into a happy clog dance.
I stopped off at the grocery store after improv class today (continuing to have a blast there, BTW; will fill in details soonishish) to get a jump on Thanksgiving shopping, not to mention replace a few staples. One of these latter was bread, so I grabbed a loaf of Schmidt's Seedless Italian. At the checkout I zoned out as usual while my stuff was being scanned but came to when the checker waved a loaf of store-brand white bread at me, saying "This is free!" then put it in one of my bags. Huh? I noticed all of the registers had racks of this bread at the ready. There probably was a huge sign at the entrance proclaiming the bread giveaway and I missed it. So I paid for one loaf of bread but came home with two. Wonder what would have happened if I had bought some fish as well.
I got around to reading this past Sunday's Washington Post Magazine yesterday, including the Dave Barry column chronicling his toddler daughter's panic attack when she could not locate her eyebrows. (No link, and I looked for one for all of a minute. Sorry.) When I went online a little while later to check e-mail and stuff I spent a few minutes using the Next Blog thingy to randomly surf blogs, dodging the political (if I spot the word "pundit" in the title, I'm out of there before the page even finishes loading) and searching for off-the-wall content in which to revel. The first hit in the latter category yielded a trivial tidbit about -- and to quote Dave B., I am NOT making this up -- the Mona Lisa's lack of eyebrows.
In conversation I often pause mid-sentence to wait for just the right word, which just as often results in my having my sentences finished for me by whomever I am conversing with. Naturally, their finish is not always the one I have been working toward, a mild annoyance for me, mainly because clearly I had not expressed myself well enough pre-pause. One of the skills I hope to take away from my improv class is the ability to think, not to mention speak, quicker on my feet.
Today it occurred to me how annoying my pauses might be to others to boot, as I got a good dose of my own medicine in a meeting with a moderator who would try the patience of a slow-talking saint. Dude didn't pause mid-sentence -- he paused pre-sentence then drew out his statements at a deliberate, painstaking (and pain causing) pace. Very nice guy, but I found myself wanting to start his sentences for him.
This is in response to Brian the Red's (is that your real pseudonym?) comment about a link to The Simpson's opening chalkboard gags for sig line foraging. Best bet is to do a search on "Simpsons + chalkboard" and the best site would probably be this one: www.snpp.com
I hadn't looked at this site in a while, but it looks like it's still the place to go if you want more Simpsons information than you can carry in a wet paper sack.
Finding happiness in the little things is just one of those Zen tricks I employ to get through life in one piece and in peace. I try. In fact, I get a kick out of little coincidences such as this aisle marker at my local CVS:
Family Planning / Headache Remedies
I also often take note of and enjoy audio/visual coincidences that happen when I'm listening to music (which is just about all the time) and reading at the same time. For example, I might be listening to a song and a key word in the lyric will be sung just as I am reading the selfsame word in the text in front of me. Friend Marty explains that phenomenon in psychological and physiological terms, bringing brain chemicals and junk like that into the equation. While I admire his vast knowledge, I'd rather remain ignorant and therefore blissful when these things happen. Luckily, Marty wasn't around today when I was online, hunting for a driver to once and for all make my external CD-RW drive work with Windows XP. I had just popped my Rubber Soul (UK version!) disc into the internal CD player and was listening to the first track, Drive My Car, as I navigated the Buslink site. I found much merriment in the fact that at the precise moment I located the file I need, the Fabs were singing "... but I've found a driver and that's a start."
"... so all I have to do is flash this at the bus driver" is what my boss is saying to the receptionist as I walk into the office. Now, I know she's talking about her commuter bus pass, but I can't resist raising an eyebrow at her and making a smart comment about the double entendre. She knows I'm a smartass because she's one too.
The bus banter takes only a minute then we chat about a few other things before getting to work, but as I turn my attention to less frivolous matters my mind conjures up a bus memory from 21 years ago. I was newly arrived in Tours, France doing that junior year abroad thing (highly recommended, BTW) and my roommate Janine and I were waiting for the city bus to take us into town for our first day of classes. Our French landlady had explained that we needed to buy tickets from the driver then validate them ourselves using a machine found on the bus. Simple enough, really, but on that early morning it seemed an overwhelming task to two jet-lagged, culture-shocked college students. Several years of French apiece and we stressed over simple vocabulary. Should we ask for a billet or a ticket? And what if we couldn't find or use the validating machine? Neither of us trusted our conversational skills enough yet to ask for help if needed. To our relief, another passenger, a French lady, appeared at the bus stop while we were fretting over these important issues. We decided we'd just let her board first then do whatever she did. Problem solved.
So the bus arrives. "Allez-y" I manage to say to the French lady. Go ahead. She climbs the steps. Janine and I strain to hear the important ticket-buying phrase, but instead of speaking to the driver, she leans in to him and they exchange French kisses. You know, the kiss-on-each-cheek ones that in France are the same as saying "Hi, how are you?" Janine and I stare at each other wide-eyed. "You go next." "No, you." "Do you really think we should kiss him?" Then we both start laughing. I don't remember what happened next because we had relaxed enough to just go with the flow. Once again laughter saves the day!
Without looking it up, I'll just go with my long-held assumption that the combination of 7 and 11 is lucky somehow. Especially if you own a chain of convenience stores. Trust me to find an unlucky application for those two numbers: waking up at 7:11 this morning when I am supposed to be at work at 7:30am. Whoopsie.
You know the opening bit in The Simpsons where Bart is writing his weekly penance on the chalkboard? One has just a few seconds to suss out the repeated phrase du jour, such as "I will not scream for ice cream", to use a recent syndicated example. To make matters worse, the phrase is usually split over two lines, which causes me a bit of panic, as I invariably start reading the second line first and by the time I have realized this and move up one line to catch the beginning, Bart has already swooped out of the room and is skateboarding his way to the next bit. That there are web sites that list all of the phrases used is little consolation to me; I started reading when I was 4, dammit! Then again, had The Simpsons been on the air back then, my life might have taken a different intellectual course entirely.
A tip of the quill pen to my lovely and talented sister-in-law, Jo Steigerwald, for having her poetry e-published at http://www.sivasys.com/thecity/. Although we choose different ways to express ourselves, we share a passion for creativity and that binds us together more closely than does our shared love (in different ways) for the same man: my brother.
Having gone home early from work with flu-like symptoms and not a whole lot of energy, I spent the afternoon bundled up on the couch catching up on my DVD viewing. Today's favorite: Arlington Road. Two observations about the movie:
1. Jeff Bridges: RRRRrrrrrOOOOOWWWWlllll.
2. The part where Bridges is racing through downtown DC in a rental car, going around other cars at turn signals, going against traffic and driving on the sidewalk, manages to convey his frantic state (not giving anything away here, this was in the TV ads when the movie was in theaters) yet somehow doesn't seem so very out of place compared to the way the "me-first" citizens of Our Nation's Capital -- and very likely everywhere else -- get around. Just this morning as I walked from my car to the elevator in the underground garage at work I was nearly mowed down by a sphincter in a mid-size, who was moving at probably 4 or 5 times the garage's 5 MPH speed limit, not to mention going the wrong way down a one-way lane. When a sharp and somewhat blind turn came up, the driver barely hestiated before barreling down the ramp to see who she could clip on the next level. I swear, I am sick up and fed with folks' thinking that signs, rules and regulations don't apply to them. Knowing I have no doubt been guilty of that type of behavior in my time (but never ever of the going-the-wrong-way-to-shave-10-seconds-off-my-commute maneuver) keeps me from being too aggressive about it, but I think I'm going to start posting license plate numbers. Won't do much I know, but it may keep me from getting involved in a mano-à-mano confrontation with someone already in the throes of road rage.
...comedy is hard. Whoever said that was sooooo right. Improv class started today and I know you're just itching to hear how it went. Me too. Well, lessee... about 8 of us in the class, all with a sense of humor, some with more theatrical presence than others. We played several "games" designed to conquer fear and build teamwork. Fun fact for those of you who know me in person: a good way to get me to shut up is to put me on a stage and order me to be funny on cue. That is not to say that I did badly; au contraire, I was quite pleased with the 2 1/2 hours' traffic of our class and I even got some laughs -- on purpose. It's just that it is a tough adjustment going from being funny in writing, working alone and having all kinds of time to come up with said funny writing, to being funny verbally while playing off of other people onstage and not being able to plan more than a few seconds ahead. But that's why I'm taking the class, and I can't wait for next week's session.
My improv class starts tomorrow. Friend Marty offers me this advice: "Be very funny." I'm sure gonna try, but I don't think Drew Carey is going to come calling for me anytime soon. A mixed blessing, that!
I had a very uneasy feeling as I drove to work this morning because the angle of sunlight indicated a later hour than my watch did and I was certain I had overslept while someone stopped all the timepieces in my home. False alarm, though. It's just happens that it was rainy and overcast every other morning this week so the morning effect of the end of Daylight Savings Time went unnoticed.
What's weirder still is that my two cats have adapted uncharacteristically quickly to being fed an hour later this time around. Usually it's December or January before Esme stops getting all in my face and demanding to be fed at 5pm, thinking that it is actually her 6pm meal time.