Suddenly, mobile.

And this year's Halloween costume just creates itself.

Mansions, Mormons and Magic, oh my

In which I report on the funner side of the news.  Yep, funner.

Read this article on Lynda Barry

 

The New York Times Magazine just ran an article on Lynda Barry.

Lynda Barry is awesome.

Probably best known for her comics, she's also an award-winning author whose works have been converted into plays.  Other bonafides?  Matt Groening refers to her as the "Funk Queen of the Universe," and she hates Jonathan Franzen.

More importantly, she's teaching seminars on creativity and writing, and making a lot of people feel really great about themselves. 

Check it out:
Cartoonist Lynda Barry Will Make You Believe in Yourself

If you don't want pasta just say so

Katie: okay

either one works

if you can pick up some mozzarella cheese, we could do some quick pasta tonight for dinner

use some of that ricotta

David: ...

FINE

Katie: what????

David: another blob thing of mozzarella works?

Katie: hahaha yes

if you don't want to that's fine!!!

i'm just trying to feed my man!!

David: eyes her suspiciously

Katie: what???

Sent at 11:48 AM on Wednesday

David: is too full of the milk of human kindness. At least according to his new wife...

David: my new status should reveal to you my thoughts

Katie: what?????

what does that mean???

David: google the quote

Katie: i am not trying to lady macbeth you!!!

if you don't want pasta just say so!!!

All of a sudden, a whole new world opens with this O2 tank.....

I Question My Maturity

ONE
This is currently my office desktop background:

TWO
We just received an email announcing that our normal staff meeting on Monday will be pushed back an hour.  My first thought was, "Hey, that's a perfect time for sticking some Baileys in my coffee."  I can not even currently drink caffeine or alcohol so I do not know where that thought came from.  Or rather, I do, I'd just rather conquer only one demon at a time.

mmmm....Makers.

THREE

Comcast for some reason  insisted on not taking a former roommate's name off of the bill, even though we both repeatedly called in and complained.  When I closed the account, they overbilled me for the final month and actually sent me a check, with the envelope addressed to me and sent to my address, but with the check made out to her.  Real Transcript from online chat as follows:

Interactive Chat with Comcast     
Katie: well, my SSN wasn't on the account, that would be ****  
Ruel: ah, and may I inquire into your relationship with her?  
Katie: well, that seems like a personal question now, doesn't it Ruel?

For the record, I'm under 30.

Yep, that's the new home oxygen tank.  Complete with 25 feet of tubing for your home oxygen comfort!


Cat: i'm about to go to walgreens and get you some slippers, a house coat and some cigs
oh can you start using motorized carts at stores now!??!

with your tank strapped on to the back!?!?

can i if you wont!?!?

beep beep!

(that's my motorized shopping cart)

Me: omg maybe i can get handicapped parking??

Cat: a handicapped designated driver.

you are the best friend ever!

ChewBACHa

Today's another day.

So I admit to you all that I have nothing much to post today.  I've been up since 3:30 am with another cluster headache hospital run; I'm at work.  Not quite sure if the head fuzzies are a result of being up since the before-mentioned hour or because my head is still doing weird, cluster-related things.  Oh well.  But I swore something would be posted here everyday, so post I will. 

Katie: my hope is that we can get an oxygen tank in the apartment today so that we can both start getting a good night's sleep

Sal: See if you can also get a tank of helium, too.

Sal: Maybe they have a special

Sal: BOGO, you know?

 

 

 

An Amish Hair-Cutting Gang, the End of the World and Other News

 In which I read the news and tell you what made me giggle.

Speaking of the 90s and Very Special Episodes

Kaz gets the alley-oop for this one.  Remember, "topical" is the word of the day.

Clarissa Left Some Stuff Out

Certainly not everything.

Things Clarissa Did Not Explain:
1.  Sex
2.  How to Change a Tire
3.  How to Properly Clean Tarnished Silverware
4.  Gay People
5.  How to Fold a Bottom Sheet
6.  The Single Bullet Theory
7.  Where do babies come from?
8. The difference between Baptists and Methodists
9.  Who keeps watching Two and a Half Men?
10. Stonehenge
11. Chapter 14 of Joyce's Ulysses
12.  Who really was the Boss?  Mona?
13.  Roswell
14.  Why do all the best tv shows get cancelled?
15.  Why do so many musicians and artists die at age 27?
16.  The theory of relativity
17.  Benedict Arnold: traitor, or really Just That Whipped By His Wife?
18.  The Triangular Trade
19.  The Game of Mao
20.  How to whistle through a blade of grass
21.  Walt Whitman's poetry
22.  Ezra Pound: genius poet, or poetic fascist?
23.  Where to sit in the high school cafeteria
24.  Why did the New York Times hire Ross Douthat?
25.  How to be Catholic and pro-choice
26.  The Book of Revelations
27.  Where Jimmy Hoffa is buried
28.  Rongorongo
29.  The difference between a 4-3 and a 3-4 defense
30.  The 2011-2012 fantasy football seasons of Jamaal Charles, Peyton Manning and Chris Johnson
31.  Why did Donald Duck not wear pants, but used a towel after the shower
32.  Plato's Cave
33.  Cluster headaches
34.  Dry versus sweet vermouth
35.  Bourbon versus rye
36.  Neil Diamond
37.  How to diagram a sentence
38.  Minotaurs!
39.  Megasharks
40.  Giant Octopi
41.  The outcome of #39 versus #40
42.  Menstruation
43.  Bears
44.  Octupuses verus Octupi versus Octopodes
45.  Smiley Smile
46.  The Holocaust
47.  Irish Travelers
48.  The Carnac Stones
49.  Did King Arthur ever exist?
50.  What about Robin Hood?

Cluster Headaches Redux

Further, I did not care for this film.

Reliving the worst experience of your life is never fun.

Catch y'all on the flip side.  Speculation as to my real whereabouts is promptly encouraged.

An Open Letter to My Officemate: I don't like you.

Dear Officemate,

I don't like you.

For a while I thought I just didn't know you.  There you sat, sometimes chatty but mostly quiet. We said good morning to each other and made bland remarks about the office temperature (usually too cold).

But you've worn out my last nerve, officemate.

I hate your stupid polite telephone laugh, exactly three syllables long each time.  Do laughs even have syllables?  The fact that I'm questioning this makes me hate you all the more.

I see you checking my computer screen and judging whether or not it is directly work-related.  And don't think I don't see you checking your Netflix queue.  Your double-screen placement isn't nearly as good as mine.

Officemate, you think you're so superior.  You with your organized  box of work shoes under your desk and your collection of extra umbrellas in case any of the higher-ups need one during a rainy day.  Kiss ass.

And dammit, I can hear you smugly eating your salad at me.  I don't care about your nutritionally-savvy lunch choices, nor does it impress me that I have never seen you buy a lunch.  Ooooh look at you with your organized mornings spent both ironing and getting your lunch together.  Ooooh look at you, getting to work "on time" and then "staying late."  I know your game, officemate, and I'm still leaving at 5. 

Oh, and how about that time I was sick, and you were the only one-- the only one!!-- in the office who didn't ask how I was feeling when I returned.  Like you didn't even know I was gone!  I'll remember that slight the next time you're out sick, officemate, and you'll see how YOU like it.

Not that you're ever out sick. 

I want the book back I lent you.

Most sincerely,
Your Disgruntled Officemate

Cluster Headaches, or A Demon is Drilling Into My Eyeball, or How I Spent My Columbus Day Weekend

In this particular image, the dying natives on the bottom symbolize the left side of my head.  Also, genocide.

This post gets a little long, so I'll wait until you're ready.

Ready?

So last Thursday night I woke up from was electrocuted out of a dead sleep to an incredibly intense pain on the left side of my head, coupled with the feeling that something was savagely twisting my eyeball from the inside.  I stumbled into the bathroom and took two ibuprofen (for only your harshest eyeball twists), and eventually managed to fall back to sleep.

Sometime later-- at what now can be assumed was around 6 am-- I awoke again, this time to the same type of pain, except, if possible, a hundred times worse.  I thrashed around in my bed in agony, unable to control my own body--

Realistic.

--for what felt like forever before I had the strength to get up and take more ibuprofen, which didn't really help.  Eventually I fell back to sleep, but then woke up shortly after to get ready for work.

I thought it was all a dream until I saw the open Costco bottle of ibuprofen on the counter.

Not realistic.

Now, David was gone from Thursday morning until Sunday, first on a religious retreat, and then away to a bachelor party.

Same thing.

So I was left to my own devices.

My left eye felt strained during the day, nothing too severe.  Certainly nothing to prevent me from having some friends over for dinner and to collectively go through "a few" bottles of wine.

What we now know is that alcohol can trigger my particular condition.

Universal Truth

Most people are familiar with Bacon's strange alchemical property to make anything better. You may not be aware, but Orchestras have the same effect on almost all music. This epiphany came while listening to a performance of Ben Folds performing with the West Australian Symphony Orchestra. It's been done for many other artists, and done again, and again. Making Ben Folds great isn't too hard to do,  so perhaps a better example is required: Metallica's S&M. I think we can all agree that Metallica sucks, but this is a thoroughly enjoyable endurable performance.

Seems like the most amazing thing ever, until they score you undressing with a piccolo (or a tuba for you ladies, I suppose)

Coffee also has a similar effect, not yet wholly understood. Coffee has the ability to make almost anything tolerable  (I can concede this, though I dislike coffee). Unlike Bacon and Orchestras however, alone it can never elevate anything beyond the endurable.

Glitter's ability to make anything fabulous is similarly well documented.

Seriously, who would name their kid "Newt"?

Farts are thought to be universally funny - but they belong in a different category. The idea of the President delivering a speech on economic expansion and blasting one out mid-rhetoric appeals greatly to my sense of humor. But the idea of Howard Stern doing it is, well, yawn. To be a good fartist, you have to master juxtaposition - otherwise you're only funny to stupid people.

Alcohol has the ability to make anyone more attractive, although not necessarily to the point of actually being attractive.

In 11th grade health class our 25-year-old wisp-of-a-girl teacher had us all write down our strategies for relieving stress and submit them to her to read aloud. Being the naïve doe-eyed girl she was, she didn't see the lights of the oncoming train. While the girls submitted things like exercise, reading (seriously?), writing in a journal, and yoga, the boy's responses had markedly less variety (I think all but two of the boys submitted the same answer). I can still remember how red she turned, but to her credit she read it aloud and conceded that it was a valid way of relieving stress. You girls have fun with your books, I'm putting the boy's answer down for universal stress relief.

And then of course there are things that almost universally make things worse (chronic exacerbators).  The sound of someone telling you to "calm down" or "relax." Wet socks. The coworker who enjoys sharing their views on elected officials and is bad at noticing social queues. Sharks.

"What a filthy job!"
"It could be worse."
"How?"
"It could be raining."

Now, if you'll excuse me - I'm going to write in my journal (that's for the hat-trick).

Where's Katie!?!?!?!

Dear readers,

Where is Katie!? I’m like, really worried. She hasn’t been on gchat for two days. I, and I’m sure a few others out there in the labyrinth, are in withdrawal. So, I need your help. Please let me know if you have any clues. I am offering a $5 reward for any tips that lead to Katie’s capture…I mean, recovery.

Is she…

taking care of a few loose ends?

inviting disaster, then dis-inviting it at the last minute?

taking over a small third world country?

de-worming orphans in an Amazon rainforest?

CIA?

traveling to Chechnya to hunt terrorists?

uniting the Dakotas and convincing western Montana to start a new state that has nothing to do with Miley Cyrus?

looking for where the sidewalk ends?

war or peace?

writing that book that's been bouncing around in your head for a while, and she now has a head start?

teaching herself to juggle, then teaching herself not to juggle?

in Lindsay Lohan’s new music video?

off to put Renee Zellweger in her place?

attempting to stop the Apocalypse, but then liking the argument and jumping on a horse?

waiting for you in the back seat of your car?

visiting a mythical land she discovered in her wardrobe and 60 years have already past in day?

biding her time?

on the island of misfit toys?

figuring out that we’re all dead?

writing a better ending to lost?

buying a jacket to prepare for the winter of our discontent?

building a clubhouse, and having trouble deciding which letter to paint backwards?

just having a good cry?

waiting for you to make a critical mistake?

in Delaware?

Help us!

Thank you,
Bre

p.s. I accidentally erased some comments—please repost!

The fun can not be halted.

On the street where you live, girls talk about their social lives...

As Katie has kindly yielded me, Mary, her blog for the day (Famous last words indeed!), I should probably start with a little background:

Since the age of 16, I have absolutely, unwaveringly been (to coin Katie’s terminology) a Serial Monogamist. From 1999-2009, I have had 7 consecutive boyfriends. When my last, most serious relationship ended, I decided to try this thing that people call, “dating.” As I’ve never been single for more than a few months at a time, I decided, this was the perfect time to learn the dating thing, and take some time for myself. I have quickly discovered that while it is a fascinating process, this “dating” thing is a whole world of crazy. There are a lot of single people out there, and most of them are apparently single for a reason.

One of my more memorable evenings was spent with a fellow who I like to refer to as my, "Is This a Date?" Guy. (Just as an FYI, we went on FOUR, very memorable evenings all of which I felt like I was partaking in an audience-interactive show called, "IS THIS A DATE?") I have  decided to let you play along...

A Two-faced Cat, Celebrity Cannibalism and Other News

A weekly roundup of all the news you missed because it didn't really matter.

Also, the Capitol Police made me throw out my lunch.

From age 5 to about age 13, I took ballet.  For each rehearsal, my family would take their seats somewhere in the dark auditorium to watch me [try to] dance.

And at each such rehearsal, my brother would slide away from his seat, slowly crawl towards the front, and station himself right in front of me, with his only goal to make me break face and laugh on stage.

It worked 90% of the time.

Don't ask me what the inadvertent farmer is; this is the only picture I could find of laughing ballerina.

Fun fact: Years later, after a bunting demonstration, a softball coach would ask me if I ever took ballet.  I defiantly told him that I had been on pointe and he snorted and told me that my parents had "wasted their money."

But I digress.

The point is, I had to go to a briefing this morning over at the Capitol.

A Senator-who-shall-remain-nameless got up to speak.  The guy before him had read straight from a sheet of paper, but this guy was a seasoned pro.  He started speaking, barely glancing at his notes.

And then he blanked.

Started up again.

And then blanked, again.  He got to that point where he was looking at his paper and couldn't even read it.

I was in my seat, trying not to laugh
.

Not me, but the look is dead on.

We made eye contact.

And he lost it.

Quickly tried to turn it into a coughing fit, turned sideways, and then recovered admirably.

Senators...they're just like us.

You "overreacted"? Is that your explanation?

Ryan:  hey bucko, this sounds like you at the movie theater
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/09/21/delta-passenger-accused-o_0_n_973056.html 

For those of you who don't feel like clicking over:

Shortly after he sat down on the Las Vegas-bound Delta flight on Sunday, Anderson elbowed his seatmate to "claim" the armrest. He then put his foot on the passenger's leg. The passenger then told Anderson to move over.


The complaint says Anderson threatened the passenger saying, "If I have a knife, I would slit your throat." The seatmate reportedly told flight attendants that Anderson reached into his bag a few times with something cupped in his hand.

David and I went to see Bad Teacher.  

(No, it was not that good.  But that's not the point of this story.)

So, if you're done interrupting, we go to see Bad Teacher.  We were running a little late, so in order to ensure a good seat, David got on line for popcorn and I went to secure some prime real estate. 

The midnight showing of the upcoming Footloose remake will attract only the most fervent fans.

I spotted some seats-- you know the type, in the middle, about halfway up-- and made my way over, tossed my bag in one seat and plopped myself in the other.

And that's when I saw them.

Hello? Is that Seacrest you're looking for?

This is important.

11 seconds in.  TELL ME THAT IS NOT RYAN SEACREST.

Weak side: Will tell you 500 times that story about how he totally knew Natalie Portman

Courtesy of The Onion.  Click on picture for the link.

A Vocal Majority

There are people protesting on Wall Street, and they're not even sure what they want, they just know that they have a lot to protest.  And it's just going to get bigger.

 At least, before it gets colder.