Sunday, November 19, 2017

I! Am! Home! Officed!

Thanks to the helpfulness and humbling generosity of a friendly benefactor — along with his last-minute tech support to correct a tear in the space-time continuum that resulted in a ludicrously backward-scrolling track pad — I now have a techie-cool PC laptop complete with brothel-red backlighting on the keys. (I’m positively SCANDALIZED by the brazenness of it all!)

Thanks to the chronic shitpile black hole of knowledge, competence and customer service of Best Lie, I also have a fancy second monitor that I was guaranteed — after asking repeatedly AND after the salesidiot literally opened the box and looked at everything it contained before he sold it to me — included all the cords I’d need to connect it to my new laptop ... WHICH OF COURSE IT DIDN’T BECAUSE WHY WOULD ANYTHING BE DIFFERENT FROM THE LAST TIME I WAS MISLED AND PISSED OFF BY BEST LIE? But I found an HDMI cable from who knows where in a jumble of cords in the back of a cabinet at home and I put myself back in business. I can sometimes accidentally look like I know what I’m doing like that.

Plus! I dug out a gay-ass shattered-mirror lamp and a handsomely upholstered leather chair from my storage locker and I am now a member of the computer generation! The jet set! The projector sector! The laptop hipchat! The trackpad smackdown! The mouse house! The cable cabal! The monitor speedometer!

I’ll stop now.

You do realize that putting random, pointless quotes around stuff makes you look illiterate, right?

Of course you don’t.

Fun fact:

The distractingly tan, scruffy, handsome man in the Raiders coat who keeps conspicuously circling past you (seven times once you notice and start counting!) as you wait for your Hy-Vee brunch party is not even a little bit flirting with or stalking or even noticing you. This will become devastatingly apparent when his equally stunning wife joins him after getting what was apparently a highly complicated beverage from Starbucks.

Stupid Raiders.

Friday, November 17, 2017

Dah ditditdit!

I fell asleep listening to 91.7 on the couch earlier and woke up in the middle of Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet, and now I’m climbing into bed as Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 blares through our speakers. No matter how cold and rainy and dreary your day may be, there’s really no better remedy in the known world than a fuzzy blanket and an evening of bombastic Romantics. Good night!

Driving around with a burned-out headlight is as embarrassing as walking around with a dribble of pee on your pants

You just hope that if you look straight ahead and keep your eyes only on the road everyone else will do the same and nobody will notice.

29 years ago today

I'm so thankful our family comes from hearty stock. I still have vivid memories of the night Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer, the moment 29 years ago today that she came out of her anesthesia after her mastectomy, sitting with her as she got her chemo, watching her take off her wig and remove her prosthetic breast after her chemo so she could get the sleep she needed to keep up the fight. But more importantly, I remember how she wouldn't let breast cancer control her life. I have even fonder memories of her traveling to DC -- one of her favorite cities -- with us, and of her smiling in all our pictures with the slight orange tint of a chemo patient. Of her volunteering for Reach to Recovery, a program that paired breast cancer survivors with new breast cancer patients to answer questions and act as survivor role models and give hope where often there is none. And most importantly, I remember how we all chose to laugh instead of cry over the entire situation. It turns out that a prosthetic breast can be very funny, especially when it's used as a giant nose on a drawing of a face, when it makes uncontrollable farting sounds against sweaty skin on a hot day, and most especially -- and this is one of our family's favorite stories -- when it's put away for the night on a stack of hotel towels, only to fly across the room and SPLAT! against the far wall when the top towel is unknowingly pulled off the pile in semi-darkness. 

We're lucky as a family to have all of this -- and while we celebrate that my mom is still with us, we will always mourn the loss of the people who aren't.

The outsides of my shoes match my socks and my shaker bottle

The insides of my shoes match my stalwart heterosexuality.

Flashback Friday: I Wonder What Happened To That Shirt Edition

Remember when I didn't even pretend to be subtle about taking flexy selfies?

Me neither.

Thursday, November 16, 2017

When you’re in a basket in a basket IN A BASKET

... and it’s the most exponentially cat place you could be on the planet so you’re concatually obligated to stay where you are even though that asshole paparazzo Jake won’t get out of your face with his damn iPhone so you refuse to even flash him your trademark Bitch Kitty ScowlTM just to spite him.

I. Am. Four.

The recent discovery of this meme has left me laughing way too long and way too hard for someone of my age, maturity and comportment:

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

Earning interest 

I just had my annual review with my financial advisor, and he’s mapped out a number of highly plausible scenarios where as long as I meet certain milestones regarding retirement and Social Security I’ll be able to live comfortably until I’m 92, which is awesome because 92 WHAT THE HELL 92 I DON’T WANT TO LIVE TO BE 92 ACK KILL ME NOW INSTEAD NOW NOW NOW!
Then I came home to Bitch Kitty shifting her feline wiles into ovpurrdrive trying to get me to come close to her and let my guard down under the pretense of getting to rub her irresistibly furry tummy and finally be her friend only so she could shatter my illusions of mammal-kingdom self-worth by abruptly hissing at me and ripping my veins out. Which would at least save me from living to be 92.

Monday, November 13, 2017

Let it OW!

When you fall asleep sitting upright on the couch and you wake up an hour later with your head still upright but a whole body width to your right and your spine angled like a wickedly curving stretch of highway that would be ominously nicknamed The Widowmaker in a TCM Film Noir best-of weekend marathon, you can really feel like a Disney princess.

Sunday, November 12, 2017

I’ve got a taste for livin! I’m thinkin’ cold Blue Ribbon!

Because a befeatherhaired Patrick Swayze rockin’ mad disco chaînés in a long white scarf, that’s why.

Sweet 16!

Happy 16th birthday to my delightful niece, who has grown from being a squirmy toddler who refused to be snuggled to an adorable little girl who charmed everyone into giving her cookies and hosted clown- and cheerleader-themed birthday parties to an inquisitive student who’s rocked at basketball and tennis and cello and show choir and debate to a kind, talented, brilliant young woman whose passions for academics and social justice (and I suppose I should mention the Dodgers) inspire all of us to be better people.

Saturday, November 11, 2017

How embarrassing!

donald put the question mark INSIDE the quotations! And just when he was finally acting presidential. Sad.

Orchestra Iowa intermission in my beloved Paramount Theatre!

We just heard Mozart’s sprightly, nimble (well, they’re all pretty nimble) Piano Concerto No. 21 (from house left row J on the aisle where I don’t think there’s any better vantage point in the city to watch the pianist’s nimble hands) and now we’re about to wallow in the glorious bombast of Beethoven’s mighty Symphony No. 5. And before the concert we both ATE KALE.

It doesn’t get any more Just Can’t Even than this!