Archive for May, 2010

my new least favorite phrase

as of today, “Nasty Nostril Nuggets” has moved down on the list. (sorry, Captain Underpants.)

“Loading advertisement” is I think the most offensive thing I’ve ever read. it says, “not only are we going to make you watch a video far less entertaining than the one you clicked on, but we’re going to make you sit and wait while it takes longer to load as well.”

you are not free, Internet you minx. your cost comes in the unquantifiable form of pesky irritations.

i like you. here, have some art i made.

my twist on the “keep calm and carry on” posters that are everywhere. made with Windows paint and

songs that are fun to yell

there is a song that i am a sucker for. every time it comes up in the shuffle, i crank the volume and roll down the windows so the whole world can hear me belting at the top of my lungs right along with Mama Cass.

that’s right, i’m singing, “MAKE YOUR OWN KIND OF MUSIC!!! SING YOUR OWN SPECIAL SOOOOOONG!!” sometimes there are tears streaming down my face. ok that was just that once, but it was a deep moment. the kind of moments you are likely to find in your life if you only give this song room in your heart.

i know, cupcake, you were hoping it would be Y.M.C.A. since I serenaded you with it that one time as i drove unsafely on the interstate. well, that was special too. and so was the time Hot Lunch’s brother and I mortified him by hanging out the windows of his car at a stop light, shouting to “Dancing Queen.” hey, his ex had absconded with all his Metallica and loaded his iPod up with ABBA, so we made the most of it.

ironically, when searching for this video, it was hard to find one that wasn’t Lost-related, thanks to Desmond playing the LP one episode.

Lost, you haunt me.

here it is. give it a listen. let it melt your cold, hard heart. EVEN IF NOBODY ELSE SINGS ALOOOOOOONG!

this post is so sexy you can hardly stand it

once again, some measly microscopic organisms have taken over my body and re-purposed it exclusively for the production of mucus, a substance without even any market value. see? sexy.

so tonight i took my sad, sorry phlegm-machine and curled it up on my parents’ living room floor and we all watched Chain Reaction, a timeless monument to the nineties’ preoccupation with clean energy, long action sequences that are fairly pointless, and China. at the end, all questions were answered and the heroes were alive. the contrast was not lost on any of us Losties in the room. ah Keanu, your movies are a welcome time machine to a simpler era.

afterward, we watched an old episode of Star Trek, my favorite show of all time. i appreciate Star Trek for taking the time it could have spent on character development and instead spending it showing jiggly things in outer space. tonight was the one where the Enterprise helps give birth to a giant ravioli. when we tried telling this to my sister as she walked through the room on the phone with her fiancé, she accused us all of being on pot and went to brush her teeth.

i’ve heard in dreams the house represents aspects of the Self

took a cold-induced 3-hour nap today full of super vivid, heartbreaking dreams of Hot Lunch’s touch, his smell, his nearness.

finally a woman who was almost like my mom handed me a balloon and showed me to a hatch in the ceiling. i climbed and climbed through the rafters of an old, rambling house until i found the sky and my little balloon carried me away.

show me your Others

(this post might have some spoilers if you think that finale had anything to spoil)

Dear LOST:

When someone faithfully hangs out with you every week for six years – or in your case MILLIONS of people – when MILLIONS of people stick with you even through times when you’re not at your best and they ask many thoughtful questions about you and believe your promises for answers… it’s nice to show them you appreciate them and you were listening to them all along. If you’re ever in that position again, Lost, I suggest that in your series finale you put more emphasis on the ANSWERS part and cut WAY back on the fluffy heaven shit.

Also, did you think simply parading about more men than i can count on both hands, wearing sweaty, clingy tees, exchanging intense expressions and performing feats of physical exertion in a tropical jungle setting would be enough to distract me from your complete LACK OF ANSWERS?? Well, almost. Touché, Lost. Well played.

And I agree with you: blinding light, mysterious magnetism and instantaneous travel through space and time are things that are really cool. But for future reference, simply showing a phenomenon a shit ton of times does not equal an explanation. Also, people dig Egyptians. They always want to know what those ancient dudes were up to. You don’t just throw that business around and never mention it again. That’s rude, Lost.

But in the end, you made everybody happy. I don’t mean the fans, I mean the characters. I guess that made me feel a little better. And you put my favorite couples back together after mangling their earthly bodies many times over. Shucks, Lost, I can’t help it. I guess we’re still friends. The kind of friends that push each other’s buttons just because we can.

Thanks for pushing my button one last time, Lost. I’ll miss you, you tease.

~tiny e

i shove things in my ears for you

there is a man outside my window shouting “ZOE! QUIET! ZOE! NO BARKING! QUIET! ZOE!!” while in the background some faint yipping is somewhat audible.

he is one of several neighbors with voice modulation issues. like Bedroom Yeller on the other side of the wall that my bed is against, regaling me with shouts of “AWESOME! YEAH!” randomly at 2 am. if that is a lovemaking technique, Yells, i am thankfully unfamiliar with it.

but the good news is i discovered new technology in the aisles of Fred Meyer’s pharmacy section this morning. so all you kiddos in D building who can’t find your inside voices, this is for you:

it’s a glob of silicone i mash onto the opening of my ear canal. this is what your noise pollution has led me to. this is worse than Dances with Wolves. no, it’s worse than Avatar. it’s EAR SILICONE.

we’ll see if my $1.69 was well spent. the real test will be the Thursday Night Partiers tomorrow. don’t you people have jobs?

when you got a health thing

Pants came over tonight and almost the first thing she said was, “i want you to date that cute guy with all the piercings!”

i was sprawled in Ugly Chair, where i have the computer set up so i don’t have to use any muscles to view the internet. click, click with the wireless mouse and i turned the monitor so she could see the title of last night’s post.

“oh,” she said.

then we watched a little SNL on hulu. without using any muscles.

i really do need to start exercising again. the depressed-just-broke-up excuse is nearing its expiration date. maybe i’ll take kris straub‘s advice and try doing my internet while biking or mountain climbing some days instead of in Ugly Chair. he says this is good “when you got a health thing to manage.” i think this muffin top now qualifies as a health thing. even if jungle cat says Max is a fan.

but your advice is confusing, kris, because you also say not to do things that make my skin come off. and the few times i’ve encountered skin coming off usually involved some form of hazardous exercise that led up to it.

look at that! bedtime! i don’t need muscles for that either!

today was 100% good. mark it on my calendar.

i’ll never date a patron again

searching old emails for something today and instead ran across this oath i swore to a friend a few years ago and i think it’s a good reminder to all single librarians. next time an athletic build and dazzling smile tempt you to consider taking a patron relationship to the next level, pause to remind yourself of two simple statistics.

  • the majority of relationships come to an end
  • the majority of your patrons have no common sense

having given no thought to these a few years ago, this was my observation in retrospect:

i dont think i’ll ever date a patron again. makes it super awkward when he has the poor taste to keep using the library.

seriously. you can pick up your girly oprah book on cd at the branch 3 miles down the road so i don’t have to look at your face anymore.

sorry, Pierced Personable Baritone whom I’ve recently been flirting with… i just remembered it won’t work out.

i put big babies in people

spent a lovely evening celebrating with a group of librarian friends at the instigation of a couple among us who surprised us by announcing their first pregnancy. i am giddy with renewed reassurance in the good things in life. i can’t think of two people i would love to see reproduce more.

next came the nachos, the pitchers of beers (except for the expecting parents) and the talk of due dates, sex and eventual size. no question there.  “I put big babies in people,” he stated with confidence. when everyone’s laughter had died down enough for her to sweetly ask him what he had said that was so funny, he diplomatically rephrased, “I was just speculating that I would have large offspring.”