(Cross-posted to LiveJournal)
The masks, I mean--not the actual flu:
Swine Flu Mask Fashion
Showing posts with label special people club. Show all posts
Showing posts with label special people club. Show all posts
04 May 2009
is this catching?
03 April 2009
do not want
(Cross-posted to LiveJournal)
Didn't lose my phone. It was sitting on my nightstand when I came home last night.
Darn. (I only want a good excuse to get a better phone, and I can't in good conscience buy a new one until this one dies or is lost.)
Other things I find when I get home: another pamphlet from the Jehovah's Witnesses. They left one at the back door last week, which I noticed and brought inside--because it's wrong to leave litter lying around like that. Then, earlier this week they left a second one in my actual mailbox. I decided I'd just leave it there, as it wasn't high on my list of priorities. Finally, I came home yesterday to find one folded and stuck behind the mail box. Civic-mindedness was crushed by irritation, and so I left the litter there. I'll probably clean it up when I get home if it's not blown away in the meantime.
They're very determined, I'll give them that. But why give the same household the same pamphlet three times over? If I've not read the first one, I'm not likely to perk up at the sight of two more copies. And if I have read the first one, I don't need two more copies, do I?
Does this sort of thing qualify as harassment? I don't think it would bother me as much if they actually came to call when I was home. Then, at least, I could respond in person and scare them away.
26 July 2008
arguing online is like competing in the special Olympics
Please to remember.
Blah.
There is a heads on both sides, right?
This is Nolanverse. I was reading a fanfic on the Batman Begins portion of fanfiction.net, which basically covers Batman Begins and The Dark Knight. The author decided to introduce Dent's lucky coin (pre-explosion), and had it land on TAILS. Right. About that ...
I thought Harvey's coin was heads on both sides, which is why he can make his own luck, because he always calls heads for the thing he wants. Well, I mean, until after the explosion scorches one side--but then it's a scorched heads.
Author's response: "Hmm, I don't think so...after all, he didn't shoot EVERYONE in the movie as he would've liked, because sometimes the coin ended on tails. I guess it's possible though, right? :-P"
... I doubt it was worth responding to after the ":-P" thing. But I did anyway. I went back to check other comments/reviews; but nobody else had mentioned the coin discrepancy, which made me start to wonder if I'd imagined the sequence. So I checked that. And responded with a cite as evidence, because the degree in English leads me to do that when I'm trying to make points.
"'Harvey, this is your life. You don't leave something like this to chance ...'
Dent tossed the coin to her. Rachel caught it and looked: Heads.
'I'm not leaving anything to chance,' Dent said.
Rachel turned the coin over. The reverse side was heads, too." (202)
I might get an equally dismissive response for my efforts, and I know I'd deserve it, but there it is. Did the double-headed coin detail really slip past this many people?
06 July 2008
quiet time
Friday included cleaning, bank-visiting, mail-box-hunting, Essex-outdoor-stalls-perusing, and Batman-and-fireworks-watching (because, I was right, you can see the fireworks from the deck).
Saturday morning, I waited for my furniture to arrive.
The Jordan's delivery guys were a lot better at their job than my movers (and with a far more difficult piece of furniture).
The sofa felt a bit tall, so I unscrewed the 5" legs from the corners and stood back for another look. It's better this way, really. With the legs, my feet can't touch the floor, and I don't think that's good for circulation.
The counter stools in the kitchen ... I think it's the upholstery, but it smells odd. In a "eating here makes me feel queasy" kind of way. I'm hoping it just needs to air out; otherwise, I ought to get some fabric deodorant.
After lunch, I went to the Peabody Essex Museum, the ticket and special exhibits of which are free for Salem residents. Fine by me.
I had an absurd epiphany while I was there. It's been many a time that I've been walking down the street between Derby and Essex and wondered, What the hell were they thinking when they decided to imitate Chinese architecture for just that one building? And what is that? Somebody's house? A business? What? So yesterday I was excited to visit because the PEM has the Yin Yu Tang exhibit--a Chinese house. I thought this might be similar to the Japanese house exhibit at the Children's Museum by South Station, a life-size model of the real thing, but still just a model.
No. They moved a Chinese house from China to Salem, bit by bit over the past seven years, and reconstructed it in its original form and with original decorations from between 300 and 50 years ago. And now I know what I should have known before. Hooray for disconnect.
Also very cool there right now--the Maori ta moko exhibit, a gallery of photos and quotes from tribe members who have received these tattoos since the government ban was lifted in the 1960s. And it was pretty awesome to read the anecdotes and see the variety of designs ... Except for the stupid people walking around and commenting (or mining for earwax and examining your findings in public--ARGH). I was furiously texting Rodney while I was in there, because it kept me from snapping at somebody. "What kind of jobs can they get?! Teeheehee!!" (And this, after passing directly by the photograph of the young businessman with facial ta moko.)
DiaF.
I also went to the gift shop (of course), and found an addition for my rice bowl collection:
Which inspired me to go home and make sticky rice for dinner (with broccoli, mushroom, and onion mixed in, to be healthy and stuff). And because I'm trying to use up the milk I have before it goes bad (because there were two gallons from the previous week), I also made clam chowder--which was poured over the rice in a very rice-casserole kind of deal. Surprisingly good, though veering from the original inspiration.
And then there was Doctor Who's finale. I enjoyed it, even though I didn't really enjoy the ending. I'm trying to think of it in a positive light though, like--"it's the journey that matters, not the destination," or something to that effect.
Blah. Time for a shower.
28 April 2008
old now equals abused. apparently.
Whitey, the family cat, going on eighteen this summer, went loose yesterday when one of the parents left the garage door open.
Today, the neighbor discovered him in her back yard when he hissed at her stupidly curious dog, and said neighbor was scared of cat and called the pound to have him taken away. Neighbor apparently had the good sense to inform Mum about all this when she got home.
Ok. Fair enough. The cat is a fright. His fur is matted in bizarre places. He has cataracts in both of his eyes. He can't move with much grace beyond that of a folding chair. But the cat is old. I mean OLD. John McCain-style OLD.
But he eats his food, and he drinks his water, and he still hobbles around and tolerates spending time with my parents.
So when my parents went to retrieve him from the pound, they were being accused of abusing Whitey, because, as previously noted, the poor thing looks like death warmed over. You probably will, too, when you are as relatively old in human terms as this cat is in his own way.
They brought him to the vet for mandatory blood work to find out how much has been done to him and how much is wrong with him ... Dehydration. Right, because he'd been away from his water for over a day and wouldn't eat or drink anything in the pound. Oh. AND. The pound didn't like the appearance of the matted fur--and sliced the cat's back while shaving it off.
ARGH.
The parents finally brought him home little more than an hour ago. He reportedly inhaled his food and settled down in his cat-nest for the evening.
I HATE their neighbors. The neighbors can die in a fire. I have been told it's bad for my soul to wish that people would die in fires. This is probably true.
31 March 2008
of unchaperoned teenagers
On Saturday night my parents were asking me what I wanted to do, but I didn't know and instead of lounging around their hotel room, my dad suggested that we go to the movies.
OK. The closest cinema to their place was the Common, and we left at a time that could've seen us sitting in practically any movie showing there. There are a handful of features out right now that I wouldn't mind seeing. My parents both really enjoyed Horton Hears a Who, but I didn't want to make them see a repeat, so it came down to 21, Mrs. Pettigrew, In Bruges, and The Other Boleyn Girl.
We went to see In Bruges. It has some wickedly funny moments of caustic humour and some pretty grim moments of violence.
And then, three minutes from the end of the movie, a group of teenagers staggered in from the hallway, talking and laughing and standing in front of the screen. Colin Farrell was saying something, but it couldn't really be heard between the kids loudly looking for seats, people in the audience telling them to shut it, and the kids reacting in cackles of laughter and threats about punching or kicking people for telling them to shut it. Somebody in the back chimed out, "You're perpetuating a stereotype." Yes, they are; but they're not going to know what you're talking about; and you're only perpetuating a cycle. Yelling at them only makes them worse.
The movie ended, the police came in, and those who requested it received a ticket of re-admittance to any show they want. My parents and I took those, and then my mum and dad handed the tickets off to me and told me to go back and see some movies on my own time. Nice of them.
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