LaurieWrites

Posting Frenzy

Clearly I'm trying to make up for lost time. I'm also procrastinating mightily.

Always a tradeoff, isn't there? I'm also listening to Steely Dan's Aja over and over. This, unlike procrastination, is a curious development.

Anywho, enough about my personal afflictions. What really brought me back here this early morning was that I was sitting here procrastinating, and my brain alit upon a phrase that my grandparents used all the time, to denote something that hasn't happened in a very long time (wow, something just popped into my head that neither of them would have EVER, by the grace of their rosaries, said in my presence, or at ALL. I want to go wash my brain out with soap.) Anyway, this phrase was, "since Hector was a pup." Like, "tomatoes haven't been on sale down to the Food Shopper's since Hector was a pup," or "We haven't seen Jim fall down at the K of C dance since Hector was a pup." Of course, the latter would more correctly be stated as, "We haven't seen Jim sit up sober, etc., etc.," but I'm trying to be kind in the haze of memory. Clearly.

So yeah, cause I loved my grandparents (my grandma is still alive, by the way, but has spotty memory, and I don't want to overburden her synapses with my random requests, especially at 1 a.m.), and revere their quirks, especially those related to linguistics and occasionally giving me money, I needed to know this. So I went to Word Detective. And while I was browsing around, I found something a little more interesting than the answer to my question. I found poor Charles here, the only person likely in recorded history who has ever been made sick by his concern over the proper usage of the word "gurney". Herewith (don't you love "herewith"? I love it, but not as much as I love "posthaste". ; )) :

" I wanna be sedated. (title theirs, I believe, or maybe I just hope.)

Dear Word Detective: I'm just sick over a word which is used regularly on TV shows like "ER" and "Chicago Hope." I have been trying to find the correct spelling and origin of the word "gurney," which is the modern-day stretcher on wheels for transporting the sick or injured. I have not found the word in several unabridged dictionaries. Perhaps they were too old. My guess is that the device is named after its inventor. Can you tell me anything about this word? -- Patiently, Charles M. Nunzio, via the internet."

He was made sick over this. Can you believe? I guess I should shut up, because I'm known to get a little tweaky over forgetting my coupons at home and things of that marginally upsetting nature. Anyway, they told Charles to get a new dictionary, that "gurney" was in most normal ones, and his was broken. And, I presume, all was right with the world.

Wasn't that interesting?

Sorry.

Now, concerning my own personal quest to learn about Hector and his puppyhood, Word Detective wasn't so swell. I Googled my ass back to these dudes, who not only were reviewed as a combination of Sonic Youth and Smashing Pumpkins (what?) but are curiously described by one of their online "friends" as "taco sweet," which for some reason gives me a pain in my head to read. I can't imagine why they didn't hit it big after gigging with luminaries such as "Sinister Dane, KINGOFTHEHILL, White Trash, Hot Pink Turtle, Fold Zandura, Shelter, Otto's Revenge, Headtrip Window, and many others." (How is the sarcasm gene inherited, because that just really, really flowed. It just happened. I can't help it. Guys, if you're reading this, I so don't mean any of this. I'm just riffing. It's just how I, clearly, roll.)

Ahem, anyway...so THEN I Googled myself back (to the sounds of "PEEEEEEEEEEG, it will come BACK to YOU," I might add. SWEET. And why do Becker and Fagen give a shit about the Crimson Tide? I'm just not sure.) some wack prose poetry about Hector which didn't work for me at all, and then, finally, the only really cogent discussion of this that I've read, which still doesn't ring very true to me.

I mean, I'm sure it DOES have something to do with Hector, son of Priam, and of Hecuba, who was unfortunately turned into a dog, but what does that have to do with him being a pup? Or a pupPY? And why would my little Catholic grandparents know about such pagan goings on, anyway? You think they taught mythology at St. Patrick's? THINK AGAIN!!!!

I'm gonna call my grandma in the morning, and I'm gonna ask her, and she's gonna say, "Hell, I don't know. When are you bringing my mint cookies?"

At least someone has her priorities in order.

And with my second mention of el presidente for the evening...

So I'm playing with my best friend's almost four-year old daughter yesterday, and she brings over her monkey toy.

Me (in that annoying adult way of making everything into an interrogative): Is that Curious George?

Her: NO

Me (continuing annoying adultish assertion that normally follows the inquisition): SURE it is. It's CURIOUS GEORGE!!!

Her: Duh! It's Curious George W. BUSH!!!!!

My friend was not at all sure what would have caused her to know this name, or how to relate it to her toy, but then again, one of my other friends doesn't know where her daughter picked up "Oooh, snap!" at the ripe old age of four, and another has no clue where her five year old learned of the song "Laffy Taffy" (thank God she didn't follow it up with "D4L in da house. Represent." Yet.) I can only conclude that these early millennial young ladies are chicks on the move - the boys best be keeping on their toes.

I mean, there really IS a war on.

...no matter what turnip-truck-faller-offers that vacant-stared GWB thinks we are. Can there be no other news?

Just the phrase "impromptu arm-wrestling match" gives me pause.

I hate to join the chorus (actually that's a total lie. I really live to do so.) but whereas I thought, along with every other teenaged girl who saw the volleyball scene in Top Gun, that Tom Cruise was the hottest thing on two stumpy legs at one point, now he's just a pain in the national ass. When will he go away? And why are we subjected to news reports about him and his poor, deluded young girlfriend? And why is this girl's family allowing her to waste away at a packed schedule of her stepchildren's sporting events when she should be buying BABY CLOTHES? I loved my ex-boyfriend astronomically, but were I to ever have been with child, if he had stuck that close to me when I became that huge, I would have knocked him out in a fiery, frustrated rage by now. GIVE THE GIRL SOME ROOM, DUDE. Blah. She doesn't even LOOK good pregnant. She looks...frumpy. They've frumped her out and saddled her with soccer mom status, and she's not even thirty years old. He grabs her by the HEAD and clutches on to her like she's his contract for Mission Impossible VII. GET OFF OF HER. She skipped the debut of her OWN COOL INDEPENDENT FILM this week, to plod off to some stupid Yahoo event, for HIM. I mean, please!

Okay, that's out. I feel better now.

Four jobs I’ve had:

1. A waitress. And not just any waitress. In fact, the worst waitress in the history of the world, including those who stumble to work in a meth-induced twitching frenzy. My manager's name was Arnold "Mac" Johnson. He was from West Virginia. And he routinely told me in his WV drawl that I was "the worst damned waitress he'd ever seen." I worked there for seven years. Amazing.
2. A receptionist at Jenny Craig. I worked there to get the 50 percent off discount on the food, an amount I had to pay back plus more to the therapist who helped me get over the raging eating disorder that arose from eating "Jenny-Os" made out of sawdust, and being caught with frozen yogurt at the mall by my impossibly thin "counselor", Kareen. I mean really. She saw me at the mall with yogurt and made me throw it in the trash. This was a woman who used to go out on her break with the words, "I need to get a bagel or I'm going to binge." I worked the front desk with Susan, who sat next to me under the wall-sized portrait of Jenny and made fun of the "poor fat people" getting out of their cars to walk in so she could SELL THEM A MEMBERSHIP. And people wonder why I snap sometimes.
3. A bookseller. Paid dirt wages to work with the loves of my life - and a few books. ; )
4. Activity leader on an Alzheimer's unit. I deal very well with flexible grips on reality.

Four movies I can watch over and over:

1. Office Space. Cliches are cliches for a reason, and this movie is tight. Quote heaven.
2. Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. The best movie about kidnapping women and forcing them to marry you, ever.
3. Say Anything, because John Cusack is my baby daddy. Just...no one thought to tell him.
4. The Breakfast Club, the Brat Pack before they all freaked out a little bit and started acting in bad films. Judd Nelson = hot. Emilio Estevez = hot. Ally. Molly. Anthony Michael. Please. I love this movie and can quote it in its entirety, particularly when much red wine is involved. "I'm an idiot because I couldn't pass shop?" "NO, YOU'RE A GENIUS BECAUSE YOU COULDN'T PASS SHOP."

Four places I’ve lived:

1. Charm City - Dayton, Ohio
2. Olney, Maryland. O-town, represent.
3. Hyattsville, Maryland
4. Miamisburg, Ohio

Four TV shows I love I’ve loved

1. NYPD Blue. There are no words to describe my love for this show.
2. ER
3. The triumvirate of Happy Days, Laverne and Shirley, and the Facts of Life
4. VH1 countdown shows and Best Week Ever

Four places I’ve vacationed:

1. Florence, Italy
2. Arizona 
3. Wildwood, New Jersey
4. Myrtle Beach, South Carolina

Four of my favorite dishes:

1. Fajitas
2. Ravioli Rose at Mamma Lucia
3. Pasta Bravo
4. Deli plates at the Parkway

Four sites I visit daily:

1. washingtonpost.com
2. Google
3. LiveJournal
4. Blogher

Four places I would rather be right now:

1. Drinking wine at an Italian restaurant
2. On the beach anywhere where it's still a sunny mid-afternoon, with a great book and nowhere to go for a few weeks.
3. New York City 
4. I'm not telling. I totally have a secret. : )

Finally.

Thank God.

Music to my ears.

I overheard a conversation between a little girl and her dad in the park today. She was probably four.

Dad: "Oh, there's a monarch butterfly."

Little Girl: "Are those poison, daddy?"

Dad: "No, I really don't think so."

Little Girl: "Ooh. That is a monarch butterfly and monarch butterflies are a little bit poison."

Dad: "That's news to me"

Little Girl: "That is NOT music to my ears, daddy."

I really need to parent a child before this show leaves the theatre, you know?

In the Borders Cafe

A man (VERY early 20s), reading a book about Christianity, to his wife:

"Dammit woman, you're thick! You're thick as poop."

Into the great wide open

    I have been so remiss in posting here, and I miss it. There is so much going on - too much going on, in fact, some days. But none of it is terrible, and some of it is wonderful, and lots of it is the usual in-between...the rattle and hum, as it were.

This weekend, I went out to Harper's Ferry in West Virginia (where the Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers meet) to shoot some photos for my next assignment in my class. My friend took these pictures of me...and I enjoy them, because we had a lot of fun...so here they are with credit to Susan.

I really don't like having my picture taken, which is one of the reasons I've always put myself BEHIND the camera. Good thing I'm sort of good at that. But a byproduct of this little hobby is that I hang out with lots of people who like to take pictures too, and when you're around them, you're an easy target. So I'm slowly learning to deal with this without outwardly cringing TOO much. I've even named my second chin Consuela (I eat lots of chips and salsa, so I guess it's appropriate) so as to make better friends with her when she stares back at me in photos. : ) Sometimes this strategy works.

In our next assignment, we can start using color. I've been working on the manual camera in just black and white for seven months, and I love it. It's just a very powerful way to express feeling in pictures. But I'm also looking forward to exploring the possibilities in color, beyond my digital shots (as much fun as that is, too...).