I'll never ask you to donate money to me for my blog... I'm a poor-ass graduate student, but so are the majority of my readers, and this blog is free to operate and fun to write. Also, I can't pretend that it is actually useful for anything other than mild entertainment and thus cannot justify putting any amount of monetary value on it.
HOWEVER, I am now about to ask you to donate to a really cool cause called Open Books, Ltd. It's an organization in Chicago that promotes literacy by providing books and workshops to children and adults in the area. I'm participating in a reading marathon to raise money for these fantastic programs because I think that the next generation of good writers depends on older generations encouraging them to be good readers. This blog wouldn't exist if my home hadn't been full of all kinds of books and family members encouraging me to read them.
I'm attempting to read as much as I possibly can during the month of May. I'm going to donate $.01 per page read, AKA $10 per 1000 pages. You don't have to give, but since I get 30-60 hits on this site a day, I thought I might as well use the blog for something positive and let everyone know about the fundraiser.
Here's the link to my donation site: http://www.firstgiving.com/twisby , which I will be updating periodically (i.e. when I remember) to show the books I am reading and my page count. Thanks so much for your support and for reading this blog!
May 3, 2010
May 2, 2010
Inappropriate:
Sometimes thoughts come into my head that are both so novel and entertaining to me that I can't repress them until a more appropriate moment, nor am I able to control the volume at which I express them. If I were 7 years old you might think I have Tourrette's syndrome, but really I just don't have enough shame to control myself. Last night, boyfriend and I pulled up to a restaurant, parking adjacent to a large white van with jungle cat markings and the words "KIM'S WHITE TIGER" scrawled on the side in a pseudo-samurai style font. Unable to connect the van to its type of business (tae kwon do, apparently), I said loudly,
"When I'm really old, I'm going to refer to my snatch as the White Tiger, and it's going to attack hot young men."
Boyfriend's expression was worth it, but judging by the way people sitting outside the restaurant stared at me as we walked by, I was probably disarmingly vocal about the sentiment.
I almost wrote, just now, that this whole situation was fine because none of my peers or superiors were there to witness it. However, it occurs to me now that my boss has caught me doing things just as bizarre at work, like headbanging at my desk, dancing through other peoples' lab space, doing loud imitations of other people, and proclaiming my preference for drinking hard liquor straight from the bottle. But, I mean, he's a cool guy. I can only hope he doesn't include these traits on a recommendation letter in the future.
"When I'm really old, I'm going to refer to my snatch as the White Tiger, and it's going to attack hot young men."
Boyfriend's expression was worth it, but judging by the way people sitting outside the restaurant stared at me as we walked by, I was probably disarmingly vocal about the sentiment.
I almost wrote, just now, that this whole situation was fine because none of my peers or superiors were there to witness it. However, it occurs to me now that my boss has caught me doing things just as bizarre at work, like headbanging at my desk, dancing through other peoples' lab space, doing loud imitations of other people, and proclaiming my preference for drinking hard liquor straight from the bottle. But, I mean, he's a cool guy. I can only hope he doesn't include these traits on a recommendation letter in the future.
April 23, 2010
FML, part II
One of my big neuroses since I was small has been losing things. I remember at 3 years old leaving my Dewey Duck stuffed animal in the bathroom at DisneyWorld and never seeing it again. Another time, I left my cherished stuffed elephant in a booth at McDonalds on a road trip to the Ozarks and my poor parents turned the car around and drove an hour back to get it for me.
I normally don't leave things anymore. Every time I exit a public location I engage in a time-consuming ritual of pocket pat-downs, purse-rifling, and seat-checking to make sure everything I brought, down to the last lipgloss, is safely with me. That is why when I left my phone in a bar last night I was so shocked and appalled at myself that I am still not over it today.
The worst part about leaving my phone on the windowsill was not that I didn't realize it was gone until I got all the way home (I live 5 minutes away). It wasn't that my boyfriend had to drive me all the way back to the bar and come in with me to pick it up (he was extremely nice about it). It wasn't that I was so worried someone would steal it (Carrboro folk are very nice). The worst part, kids, was that the kind bartender found my phone and immediately tried to return it to me by calling the number I had labelled as "HOME," which wasn't my home at all but my parents' house in another state. To my horror, he was on the phone with my dad when I ran into the bar.
My parents already think I habitually lose things of value. This was not helpful. I guess I really should be eating my organic sea vegetables, or maybe I just shouldn't drink margaritas in public places.
I normally don't leave things anymore. Every time I exit a public location I engage in a time-consuming ritual of pocket pat-downs, purse-rifling, and seat-checking to make sure everything I brought, down to the last lipgloss, is safely with me. That is why when I left my phone in a bar last night I was so shocked and appalled at myself that I am still not over it today.
The worst part about leaving my phone on the windowsill was not that I didn't realize it was gone until I got all the way home (I live 5 minutes away). It wasn't that my boyfriend had to drive me all the way back to the bar and come in with me to pick it up (he was extremely nice about it). It wasn't that I was so worried someone would steal it (Carrboro folk are very nice). The worst part, kids, was that the kind bartender found my phone and immediately tried to return it to me by calling the number I had labelled as "HOME," which wasn't my home at all but my parents' house in another state. To my horror, he was on the phone with my dad when I ran into the bar.
My parents already think I habitually lose things of value. This was not helpful. I guess I really should be eating my organic sea vegetables, or maybe I just shouldn't drink margaritas in public places.
April 20, 2010
F M er L
Embarrassment is fleeting. Ephemeral. The dissolution of your pride is forever. Last week I forgot my cell phone at home four critical and excruciating times (iPhones are addicting), leaving me without the ability to text/call/FourSquare/Twitter/Facebook/take pictures of hipsters. I almost left my home without a bra on (I'm not enough of a hippie to do that on purpose). I forgot to eat dinner twice and ate two dinners by accident once. I'm dizzy, I'm spacing out, and I'm losing my mind.
All of this was merely harmless bumblery until Sunday. I drove to the store to pick up some food for a friend's barbeque. My braking foot slacked off at a red light and my car glided into the rear of the car in front of me. There was no damage and we exchanged phone numbers before the light even turned green. Shaking, I pulled into the nearest parking lot and immediately jumped out of the car to see if I had scratched my car in the incident, slamming the driver side door behind me and locking myself out of the vehicle while it was still running.
My cell phone was locked in the car. I wandered into a Whole Foods and asked to use their courtesy phone. Because of 411's voice recognition software (WE MEET AGAIN, electronic woman...) it took me 30 minutes to simply obtain the number of Durham's AAA chapter ("You're looking for Triplay?" NO. What the hell is Triplay?). It then took 20 minutes for the woman on the phone to correctly spell my first and last name (no, just because it sounds eastern european doesn't mean it has no vowels). I also learned that just because you paid to be a member of AAA in 2001 doesn't mean you're a member anymore.
The worst part about locking your keys in your car while it's running is that you have to tell people about it to get help. I dealt with this by acknowledging the facts right up front. "Hi, AAA? I locked my keys in my car. It's running, and I'm a complete moron." "Okay, honey, are you in a safe place?" "I'm in a grocery store, but I'd feel much safer if I could crawl into a hole and die."
The best news is that when you lock your keys in a running vehicle, you get placed on Top Priority, even if you're not really a member of AAA. I sat on top of my car in the parking lot and mentally gave the finger to all of the people walking by and laughing to themselves about my predicament. "See that dumb lady? That's what happens to your brain if you don't eat your organic raw sea vegetables," the mothers told their children. My salvation came in a red pickup truck 10 minutes later and managed to unlock the door without making too many comments about how ridiculous I was. He didn't even charge me-- I'm telling myself it was because I'm so cute, but I think that AAA made a mix-up and told them I was a member. Bwahaha.
I didn't go to the barbeque. I went to another grocery store (I can never show my face in Whole Foods again) and bought 1/4 pound of chocolate covered ginger to stuff the sorrows down my esophagus. Let's remember what we learned from my experience:
1. Don't use the window locks on your car unless your keys are in your hand.
2. AAA memberships must be renewed.
3. People are nicer to you if you admit your idiocy upfront.
4. American cars are easier to break into than foreign.
5. If you think you're going to lock your keys in your car while it's running, make sure you have plenty of gas.
All of this was merely harmless bumblery until Sunday. I drove to the store to pick up some food for a friend's barbeque. My braking foot slacked off at a red light and my car glided into the rear of the car in front of me. There was no damage and we exchanged phone numbers before the light even turned green. Shaking, I pulled into the nearest parking lot and immediately jumped out of the car to see if I had scratched my car in the incident, slamming the driver side door behind me and locking myself out of the vehicle while it was still running.
My cell phone was locked in the car. I wandered into a Whole Foods and asked to use their courtesy phone. Because of 411's voice recognition software (WE MEET AGAIN, electronic woman...) it took me 30 minutes to simply obtain the number of Durham's AAA chapter ("You're looking for Triplay?" NO. What the hell is Triplay?). It then took 20 minutes for the woman on the phone to correctly spell my first and last name (no, just because it sounds eastern european doesn't mean it has no vowels). I also learned that just because you paid to be a member of AAA in 2001 doesn't mean you're a member anymore.
The worst part about locking your keys in your car while it's running is that you have to tell people about it to get help. I dealt with this by acknowledging the facts right up front. "Hi, AAA? I locked my keys in my car. It's running, and I'm a complete moron." "Okay, honey, are you in a safe place?" "I'm in a grocery store, but I'd feel much safer if I could crawl into a hole and die."
The best news is that when you lock your keys in a running vehicle, you get placed on Top Priority, even if you're not really a member of AAA. I sat on top of my car in the parking lot and mentally gave the finger to all of the people walking by and laughing to themselves about my predicament. "See that dumb lady? That's what happens to your brain if you don't eat your organic raw sea vegetables," the mothers told their children. My salvation came in a red pickup truck 10 minutes later and managed to unlock the door without making too many comments about how ridiculous I was. He didn't even charge me-- I'm telling myself it was because I'm so cute, but I think that AAA made a mix-up and told them I was a member. Bwahaha.
I didn't go to the barbeque. I went to another grocery store (I can never show my face in Whole Foods again) and bought 1/4 pound of chocolate covered ginger to stuff the sorrows down my esophagus. Let's remember what we learned from my experience:
1. Don't use the window locks on your car unless your keys are in your hand.
2. AAA memberships must be renewed.
3. People are nicer to you if you admit your idiocy upfront.
4. American cars are easier to break into than foreign.
5. If you think you're going to lock your keys in your car while it's running, make sure you have plenty of gas.
April 13, 2010
Random thought
All etymology aside, isn't it interesting how close the word contemporaries looks to contempt? And also, how the word "peers," when uttered in a particular sentiment, might sound like the word "pierce," as with a dagger? Not that this has anything to do with anything.
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