18 posts tagged “miscellaneous”
For the record: a guy who manages to
a) use one of my favorite quotes from St. Augustine
and
b) say something deep and/or meaningful about music
in the process of
c) asking for my phone number
will get it.
That is all.
Moments in which one feels less like a diva and more like a perfect idiot would include:
--Get up. Note that you are feeling less than spectacular, as a river seems to be running down the back of your throat and you feel generally achy/lethargic/et all. Be a good little singer and renounce your morning coffee (dehydrating) in favor of several cups of strong ginger tea. Get dressed, still feeling slightly less than spectacular but vowing that The Show Must Go On. ("The Show Must Go On" sounds better than "I can't miss either of those theory classes, and I can't afford to miss work, and I'm not THAT sick.") Skip most of the makeup routine. Fasten your hair back in any way possible, as it's decided to expand to twice its normal volume due to the weather. Briefly consider adding some superglue to the hair gel, and then decide against it because the fumes would irritate your sinuses more than they are already. Put on favorite all-purpose-recital-work-church black skirt in order to cheer yourself up. Observe, with mild confusion, that the skirt seems about eight inches longer than the last time you wore it, but dismiss this fact and run out the door without bothering to glance in the mirror. Spend the day running to and from classes and voice lessons, and only look in the mirror after being at work for four hours or so. Have an "Aha!" moment when you realize that you've been wearing that skirt backwards all day. (The back of the skirt is mid-calf length, while the front is knee-length. Worn correctly, this is a nice effect. Reversed, this looks absolutely ridiculous.)
--The next morning, get up. You are only working at school today, so you can wear jeans. Jeans are very difficult to put on backwards. Yay. An hour or so after getting to work, realize that Things Will Not Be Pretty if some caffeine is not ingested. Compromise with a soy-milk latte (not bad at all, actually). Walk to the coffee shop on campus. By the time you get to the counter, the barista already has your usual coffee in preparation without your having to say a word ("Medium soy hazelnut latte with an extra shot, coming right up." ) Sipping your coffee and musing upon the loveliness of a fall day in Texas and the delight of having a barista who remembers your special drink, walk back to the building in which you work. Place your right foot firmly about two inches in front of the door, and use your coffee-gripping hand to yank the door open--which, of course, it doesn't, as your foot is in the way. Break three nails when your hand slips on the handle, slop several ounces of your beautiful-work-of-art coffee over shirt and jeans, and look up to note that the person just inside the door (who witnessed the entire performance) is your supervisor. Bite your tongue, and do NOT use so much as one word of your denoted-by-asterisks library.
Hope y'all got a good laugh out of that. I'm going to finish my coffee, have a good laugh myself, an remember that today is going to improve. After all, I do get paid this afternoon. Money is a lovely thing.
Now if I could just figure out what to get my sister for her birthday, I'd be set.
1) Take one diva. The following scenario works best if the diva has relatively long hair pulled back into a ponytail for the evening.
2) Have the diva's roommate ask the diva to bring the trash to the curb. The diva will acquiesce.
3) The diva will notice a slight tug on her ponytail as she drags the cans to the street, but will assume that the hair just got caught under a strap or something.
4) As the diva steps inside the house once more, she'll feel a really insistent tug on her ponytail. Flipping it over her shoulder in irritation, she will discover a gecko the size of a chameleon hanging onto the end of the hair.
5) With a screech that would have been a successful audition for the Queen of the Night, she will flip her hair sufficiently hard so as to send the revolting creature flying. She will then be discovered (by aforementioned roommate) standing atop the couch while frantically fingercombing her hair and gibbering "Kill! Sic him! Die! EEEE!" at various pets, all of whom are watching her with interest rather than defending her against the vicious little beast. The VLB goes flying out the door to find a nice insect snack far away from singers of opera. The roommate laughs so hard she pulls a muscle. The roommate's son will demand to know why the diva didn't catch the beast so that he can keep it as a pet. The diva will vow once again to move to the North Pole, where there are no such critters.
And the readers of the diva's blog will, hopefully, get a chuckle out of her predicament.
Headline on Drudge Report (courtesy of the UK's Sun) regarding the new particle accelerator:
"World Did Not End."
Working where I do, I've known this for a while.
I'm in the midst of trying to find a) a new place to live and b) new roommate (s) to share it. This is apparently much easier said than done, particularly if one wants female (am I the only person who finds the "friends with benefits" concept more than a bit creepy?) non-smoking roommates who don't mind two cats.
And I can say unequivically that I have never, in my time in customer service, met so many weirdoes as I have in the process of looking for the new place and roommates.
Egads.
Well, at least there is no hurry. I could stay here another year and then find a new place after I know where I will be school-wise the year after next. I'd prefer something a bit quieter, but this isn't a bad neighborhood. And, for that matter, I'm not at all certain that I'd want to move twice in a year (ie, now and then after I transfer somewhere).
If it's supposed to happen, then the right roommate will come along. If not, I'm fine here. Thank goodness!
During a recent meeting at the Dallas City Hall, a commissioner (white) described the office in charge of collecting traffic fines as a "black hole" because paperwork and payments routinely get lost in this office. A black hole, for those of you who never passed fourth-grade science, is the physics term for a star that has collapsed into itself. The gravitational pull of the black hole is such that matter, energy and light (as well as, presumably, traffic citations) are sucked in and never come out.
Another commissioner (black) interrupted the aforementioned commissioner to insist that the proper term was a "white hole" and that to call it a "black hole" was racist.
Incidentally, a "white hole" is another physical theory (theoretical) that describes the possibility of the opposite of a black hole. A white hole is a place in space where vast amounts of matter, light and energy are sent forth.
After the error of his ways was publicly pointed out, the offended commissioner still kept talking. (Mistake, I'm thinking.) He has now gone on the record saying that many everyday descriptions--"black hole," "white hole," "angel food cake" (yes, I'm serious) are racist because they couldn't refer to, well, a description of phenomena. Black holes are called black holes because they suck all light in and are a lightless void. White holes project light, and are therefore described as "white." RACE HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH IT, you educationally decrepit nugatory nincompoop.
I suppose I should simply be glad that this guy doesn't work for the Dallas School District
Lawdog puts it so much better than I.
Recently, due to a peculiar work schedule, I attended a church other than the one I usually attend. Must fulfill the Mass obligation and all that. Upon leaving, I was handed a bulletin which I perused on my way to my car.
At some point during this trip, I stopped in my tracks, discourteously causing a mild pedestrian backup. I apologized and stepped to the side to reread that which had caused me to freeze.
Oh yes, it did say that.
"On a recent exam, 71% of our graduating eighth grade students scored higher than the average college freshman. If you want your child to do so good, consider enrolling in St. Paul's School! Tuition is $350 per month."
"Do so good?!"
For those of you who were not raised by a grammar-police english major, "good" is an adjective. It modifies nouns: "good dog," "good cat," etc. "Do" is a verb, and needs an adverb if it is going to be modified. A student may do well on an exam. A student does not do good on an exam unless he is sorely lacking in grammar.
Oy. Wince. Egads.
146 days...
until the release of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince in theaters.
I've put a countdown on my sidebar.
Not that I'm counting anything. Nah. Not at all. Er, I mean...
Oh, langlock to all of you! :D
I love and adore this town nine months of the year. During the summer, I still love it. I just am not entirely thrilled with the humidity. See above.
The positives of the cowtown summer include my new love: amaretto-flavored ice cream. The name says it all. Utter and total cold decadence is mine! There's a marble-slab-style ice cream shop in the same shopping center where I work. By itself, or with a brownie mixed in, this stuff is ADDICTIVE. VERY.
(note to self: extra workout this week...)
Amadeus is quite sick, but he'll be okay.
FIV-negative. Ditto Feline Leukemia. Thank God.
His white blood cell counts are about twice what they're supposed to be, and his hematocrit is up. He was running a fever of 104 (101 being normal for cats) and quite dehydrated. The vet said it was some kind of infection (didn't know where or what) and gave him antibiotics. Don't even ASK the price of all this. Suffice to say that I'm actually kinda hoping to be called in for work this evening, and that I'll be picking up every extra shift I bloody well can, as well as putting out the word that I'm available for any odd jobs anyone needs done.
Oh, but he's worth it. While I might gripe a bit about the (frankly, inflated) vet bill, at least he looks a bit perkier after the antibiotic shots, the fluids, and the anti-febrile meds. And in a few days he'll be back to his normal mischievous and impertinent self, and fling himself ecstatically at my ankles when I open his kennel in the morning. He'll also open the bathroom door (yes, he opens doors) and keep me company while I shower, apply makeup, etc. And when I get home in the evening, he is in the front window and waiting for me.
Yeah, he's worth it.
Off to give him a cuddle...
