Monthly Archives: March 2006

Three f*cking days

Still sick. House = mess. Yard = mess. Called in sick to work, a job for my webmaster gig that should have taken me an hour took me three days. I am so tired of this.


Those penguins in my avatar? They will go away when there is no longer any snow on the ground. It’s not too far off, yesterday was actually sunny, and warmish, and I was able to dry some laundry out on the patio. Hooray!

But today I am sick. Wretchedly so, with a sore throat (which is my least favorite of all symptoms, even worse than spontaneous eyeball tumors), and a bone-deep fatigue. Fortunately, ~d has saved the day by tagging me for the Universal Meme, so now you have something to read other than how crappy I feel.

Four of the jobs I have had in my life:

  1. Prep Cook – Sea Galley, Port Townsend WA
  2. Projectionist – Neptune Theater, Seattle WA
  3. Canvasser – WashPIRG and MassPIRG. Absolute hell.
  4. Cook – Last Exit on Brooklyn, Seattle WA

Four Movies I would watch over and over again:

  1. The Princess Bride
  2. The Fifth Element
  3. Galaxy Quest
  4. Casablanca

Four places I have lived:

  1. Columbus, Ohio
  2. Frösön, Sweden
  3. Seattle, Washington
  4. Munich, Germany

Four TV shows I (would) love to watch if I lived in a civilized country:

  1. The Daily Show
  2. Star Trek reruns. Any series.
  3. Third Rock from the Sun
  4. Frasier

Four websites I visit daily:

  1. The ones in my blogroll
  2. Toytown
  3. Gmail
  4. The Guardian

Four of my favorite foods:

  1. Taquitos from el Puerco Llorón at Pike Place Market
  2. Mint-chocolate-chip ice cream
  3. Campbell’s tomato soup (made with milk, not water!) and goldfish crackers
  4. Real mashed potatoes with mushroom gravy

Four places I would rather be right now:

  1. In bed, sleeping off this stupid flu or cold or whatever
  2. Helping Kelly settle into her new house
  3. Spain. Anywhere except the tourist-hell coast.
  4. Visiting my brother and his family in Denver

Four people I would tag, except I’m pretty sure they’ve already done it:

  1. Amber
  2. Elemmaciltur
  3. Kelly
  4. KimberlyDi

All right. Off to bed. Bleah.

This and that. And a hat.

The work I didn’t want to do a few entries ago is still getting done. It’s a web site update, so lots of tedious little fiddly-things, which means that I’m too busy to blog and also have nothing of interest to blog about.

I’ve also rediscovered knitting, so I’ll post the pattern for a baby sweater I just made, as soon as I get it looking nice. The pattern, not the sweater. The sweater already looks fine.

I also made a hat, with some scrap yarn. The pattern said size 13 needles and size giganta-huge-a-mongous yarn, and I used size 8s and regular yarn, so it turned out to be a baby hat. A really, really warm baby hat. Um, does anybody have a cold baby? Because I don’t really have anyone to put this hat on.

Yesterday evening I finally remembered to call my future students and tell them I’ll start up the conversation class on April 5th, and also call the woman who’s in charge of the space we’ll be using at the Women’s Center. Evenings are usually the best time to catch people at home, but evenings are really busy for us, so I kept forgetting to call. I thought it was Freudian forgetting, you know, that I was so wigged out by the prospect of teaching that my forgetfulness was sort of subconsciously intentional. But when I finally did remember, I made the calls without any wittering or excuses or out-wimping, so I must have a pretty good grip on my fear after all. That’s good.

Song du jour of the day. The Hippopotamus Song, by John Lithgow. Yes, really. I bought the CD for my kids, but I like it way more than they do.

I like this a lot


Eight hours of "fun"

Two things you should know first, by way of exposition.

1: I hate parties. I want to like them, I really do. I want to be nice and sociable and friendly and liked, but I’m too socially awkward. No really, I am the Black Hole of small talk. Alala’s four-step plan to surviving parties?

1 – arrive late
2 – park myself by the food
3 – only talk to people I know
4 – leave early

It’s the only way I can do it. I know, I’m a loser. I hate it, but there you go.

2: I hate to drive. Always have. I hate the responsibility of controlling a 2-ton death machine, hate having to concentrate so hard, ack. I didn’t even get my license until I was 26, and then only because we’d moved to Wisconsin, Land of Crappy Public Transit, and I had to learn to drive or starve to death. So I do drive, but only when I absolutely have to, and then only to the grocery store.

So now that you have the information necessary to understand the story, here it is:

DrBob shared his birthday party with 3 other guys we know who turned 40 or 41 this week. The party was in Munich last night. We got there at 7:30 to set up, and we had to stay to the end, which was around 3:30 a.m. It was loud and smoky and I knew very few people. There was only one person I could speak English with, the rest of my conversations were in Spanish or German. And? I agreed to drive us home so that DrBob could enjoy himself without having to worry about how much he drank, which meant I drank alcohol-free beer all night.

DrBob’s all, “hey that was fun, we should have another party sometime.” I’m all, “Just shoot me now Of course dear! When?”

Song du jour of the evening: the Hives. See Through Head

Oh, Lordi, Lordi

A little known fact that I just made up: Eurovision is the progenitor of the WTF phenomenon. Hey, it could be true. You take about 50 WTF-moments, string ’em together, and you’ve got the Eurovision Song Contest, pretty much. I mean hey! It’s a pop-song contest, with one entry from each participating country! In Europe! How could this not be fabulous? It’s like…a giant, festering kitsch-bomb. It’s like pearls with plaid and sequins and fringe! And bearskin capes and leather bikinis, of course.

Seriously. You have got to see this. Umm, over here if you click on “Multimedia Lounge”, and choose “video” you can see a selection of Eurovision offenders entries through the ages.

Anyway, at the moment I’m hoping Finland’s entry wins, on the principle that, even though two wrongs don’t make a right, five wrongs most certainly do.

a little whine with the daily grind

I don’t WANT to work. I am finding all kinds of reasons not to do these two little puppet-head jobs. It will probably only take a few minutes, but they’ll be really, really tedious minutes. More tedious than vacuuming or folding the rest of the laundry? Ooo, tough call there. I’d better flip a coin. Hey, the dolphin dish has a buncha foreign coins, mixed in with the euro-coins! I should sort those out, put the American ones in DrBob’s room for when he goes to Kalamazoo in May, and the rest in Ignatz’s coin collection-which-is-really-just-a-box, and maybe put the euro-change in my wallet. Oh that reminds me that my wallet needs cleaning out. But first I better have a snack…

Song du jour of the day? Gotta be Put Your Hand Inside the Puppet Head by They Might Be Giants


This needs a wider audience.

~d’s quizzes.

Okay, really I started it. My donut-thing set her off, and now she’s set me off…this can only end in tears.

Your Irish Name Is…

Alannah McGrath
What’s your Irish Name?
Hmph. That’s a boring name.
Your Musical Tastes Match: Weird Al


Your Porn Star Name Is…

Champagne Waters
Your Stripper Song Is

Pour Some Sugar on Me by Def Leppard

“Love is like a bomb, baby, c’mon get it on
Livin’ like a lover with a radar phone
Lookin’ like a tramp, like a video vamp
Demolition woman, can I be your man?”

Break out the baby oil, you rock it old school.

Your Christmas Song Is

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

Then I saw mommy tickle santa claus
Underneath his beard so snowy white
Oh, what a laugh it would have been
If daddy had only seen
Mommy kissing santa claus last night

At Christmas, you feel like a kid again
Complete with major Christmas eve insomnia

You Are 60% Weird

You’re so weird, you think you’re *totally* normal. Right?
But you wig out even the biggest of circus freaks!

Okay, I actually really like this one…

You Are a Chick Rocker!

You’re living proof that chicks can rock
You’re inspired by Joan Jett and the Donnas
And when you rock, you rock hard
(Plus, you get all the cute guy groupies you want!)
You Are Coke

A true original and classic, you represent the best of everything you can offer.
Just the right amount of sweet, just the right amount of energy… you’re the life of the party.

Your best soda match: Mountain Dew

Stay away from:Dr Pepper

What Kind of Soda Are You?
Mountain Dew!? EEEYuck!


I fell asleep this afternoon. DrBob woke me at six so I could make dinner (because I’d promised I would, not because he’s one of Those Husbands) and propped me up in front of the stove. I burned the chicken. I don’t know what happened to the noodles. And I’m pretty sure the sauce is not usually that color. Damn. There go all my June Cleaver points.

This morning Ignatz said “I think we should get a cat and a dog, so we can have bilingual pets.”