Who Needs a Will?

Plans for the future...

My Unit:  "You still have a headache?"
Me:  "Yeah."
Her:  "Why?"
Me:  "Sometimes my glasses give me a headache.  And I did smack my head on the freezer the other day."  (putting my hand towards the lump on my head)
Her:  "STOP TOUCHING IT!  But even before that, you were having headaches.  I'm started to get worried.  Maybe it's a brain tumor."
Me:  "I might have a brain tumor.  I might die from a brain tumor.  You always said you were going to outlive me."¹
Her:  "So you're just going to die and leave me because of a brain tumor?  Who does that??  So rude."
Me:  "I know."
Her:  "So here's what will happen after you die.  I'll get a roommate and live in this house like a nun.  They'll move in here."  (gesturing to my office)  "Wait, no, I'll move back here.  I don't always like being up front because of potential gunshots.  I'll move back here."
Me:  "Are you going to repaint it?"²
Her:  "No, I'll leave it exactly as it is.  Like a shrine."
Me:  "With all my Barbies and everything?"
Her:  "Of course!  And who'd sell a DVD collection like that?  That's a woman-trap if I ever saw one."
Me:  "What about the animals?"
Her:  "Oh, they can stay and hang out.  Well, Doogie will have to go.  And you'll just die and leave me with nothing but books and Barbies and DVD's."
Me:  "And yarn."

¹: It's funny because my Unit is eleven years older than I am.
²: My office is Pepto Bismol pink.

Leonard Has a Revelation

Being condemned to wearing my glasses for the next week, I'm already planning on not going out and being social.  I really don't like wearing  my glasses in public.  It's not a fashion thing (although I'm sure that's part of it); I don't see as well with my glasses (versus my contacts).  In fact, no one does because of the distance between the lens and your eye.  But I digress.

Refusing to be social got me thinking -- I'm not really that social in my "free" time anyway.  I don't go to knit nights, I rarely go to movie nights, and I can hear people asking "Why?   You do many things in front of people all of the time.  That doesn't make any sense."

And it's true.  All of my jobs -- teacher, actor, interpreter -- are very social, performative acts.  I "perform" in some capacity on a daily basis.  And then it hit me.  That's why I don't really socialize in my off time.  Because I'm already doing it the other 75-90% of the time.  Sometimes I just want to sit at home and knit and brood while wearing my glasses and no bra. 





So there ya go.  Despite the fact that I'm very outgoing when you might see me, the rest of the time I curl up in a ball at home.  It's hard being this fabulous all of the time; sometimes I need to take a nap.

And the Winner Is...

After much calculating, counting, retabulating, and the assistance of three cats, one circus dog, and some hanging chad, a winner in Leonard's celebratory giveaway has been determined!

And the winner is...

Facebook user Heather!!!

 (Woohoo.)

Dear Heather wins her choice of knitwear from my stash, a short story in her honor, or a commissioned Strongly Worded Letter.  Watch this space to see which she picks.

Thanks for helping Leonard celebrate 1,000 hits!  We managed to do that in just under a month, so let's make it to 5,000 hits before Halloween -- woohoo!

Movie Review: Anna Karenina

The review can basically be summed up in one statement, but I'll give you some traditional bullet points as well.  That statement is:

Most of the time I had no idea what was happening, but it was beautiful to look at.

That sums up my experience of Anna Karenina.  I probably should have prefaced with the fact that I have not read the novel by Leo Tolstoy.  Seeing this film makes me want to read it, to fill in the holes, but then I remember reading War & Peace, and I start hyperventilating all over again.

Oh yeah!  Bullet points:

• Who thought Aaron Taylor Johnson with a porn star moustache and blonde tips was attractive??
• Whoever thought they could make Jude Law unattractive?
• The theatre/film thing was fascinating.  Confusing (and I'm not sure I understand the point), but fascinating.
• I want every single costume Keira Knightley wears.  EVERY. ONE.
• Cameo by Lady Mary Crawley!
• Cameo by Moaning Myrtle! 
• Why won't this movie end?  It's only 2:10, but it felt much longer towards the end there.

And this conversation happened:

My Unit:  "When did this movie come out?"
Me:  "Last year."
Her:  "Did you rent it just because it's a period piece?"
Me:  "Yes.  AND because I wanted to see it."

Then later when it wouldn't end:

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, we get it.  Love is horrible.  People are horrible.  It's always the same fucking story.  Will you please write a story that isn't the same as every other fucking story?"

I'm working on it...

Fuck Off and Die: A Pre-Menstrual Translation Guide

From the vaults, here is an oldie but a (timely) goodie!  This information is for your continued good health!

In the future, I simply need to mark off the 3-5 days before my period and the first couple of days of said period on the calendar with a large warning of "OFFLINE TIME." The Internet is a horrible place to be when one's snarkiness is out of control. Faster than a card-carrying NRA member with an itchy trigger finger, my typing fingers fire off round after round of sarcasm and just plain meanness. Sometimes I don't even know what's happened until I see the carnage: hordes of innocent surfers and Facebook users in my wake, slain with my deadly wit and acerbic phrases.

Even a website as innocuous as Pinterest.com awakens my ire. Some poor user who said "gray & navy -- two of my favorite neutrals" about a dress nearly got the following response:  "Navy is not a neutral; it's navy -- a blue, a cool color."

Another person who thinks they're oh so funny nearly got a snarky and snappy "Way to reinforce gender stereotypes!"

I actually published someone’s hair tutorial on Facebook with the following commentary:  I don't understand shit like this. Why go through all that work for a "not too perfect" wave? You can just put your hair in a giant clippie when it's wet (put some curly-girl gel in if you want), and later in the day, take the clippie out. Ta-da! Messy waves.   And no offense to Erin [my hairdresser] and my other friends who are more hair-talented than I am -- although I think even Erin would agree that my way is easier. :-)

In an attempt to curb the acid tongue, I've started saying things that really don't reflect what I'm thinking at all. Here's a handy-dandy translation guide for the brave.

• "Congrats!" or "Congratulations!" = "Fuck off and die."
• "Sure, I can do that for you!" = "Yes, I will do that, but please for the love of God and all that's holy, stop boring me with your endless reasons of WHY you want me to do that because I don't really give a fuck. At all. Not even a little bit. Why are you still talking?"

In fact, many of the statements from the second bullet point are useful translations for most anything said during this ten-day Internet sabbatical (5 days of PMS, 5 days of period). Nevertheless, I have provided you with some further translations to clear up any confusion. 

You Said:	I Said:	It Really Means:
“How are you?”	“Fine.”	“I hate everything today.”
“How are you?”	“Okay.”	“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! Fuck off.”
	“Fuck you!”	“Fuck you.”
	“Fuck off.”	“Off is the direction in which I want you to fuck.”
“Sure is hot outside.”	“Yep, sure is.”	“Oh. My. God.  Why are you talking?”
“Could you/Would you/Will you [fill in the blank’?”	“Sure.”	“I have nothing better to do than hemorrhage and be bloated and listen to your never-ending list of bland, everyday life – DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN MAKE IT STOP!  Before my ears start bleeding.”
	“Thank you for the information.”	“I do not need more proof of your idiocy.  Stop boring me with details of your ineptitude.  I don’t care!  I don’t care!  I don’t care!  La la la la la la – NOT LISTENING!”
	“I love you!”	“You brought me a present!”
“I love you.”	“I love you, too.”	“Your offering is displeasing to me.  Go away and do not return until you have something worthy and useful like snacks, vodka, jewelry, a new book, a new movie, new yarn, SOMETHING SHINY, a kitten.”

This Public Service Announcement bought to you by ibuprofen, Playtex Glide tampons, and a whole heapin' helpin' of vodka.

(Image compliments of ICanHasCheezburger.com)

Cloud Vaginas and Elvis: Key West Adventures Part 2

The first flight was 2.5 hours long and very crowded; lots of small children.  I am thankful for things like iPods and sitting at the back of the plane.  We both slept most of the flight.  The flight from Orlando to Key West was much shorter (approximately 45 minutes) and much smaller.

A friend had asked me to "wave to Harry Potter" when we flew over Orlando (Universal Studios' "Wizarding World").  I did better than that!  I took a picture in the Orlando airport:

It was pouring down rain in Orlando, which didn't bode well for our week-long Florida vacation.

My Unit and I eventually each took window seats (me in front of her) where we could communicate through a series of ridiculous hand signals, including one that simply means "SPRING BREAK!  2013!  WOOHOO!" screamed like a frat boy.

The pilot warned us that the runways in Key West "are kind of short," so basically not to expect a soft landing.  With my forehead pressed against the window, I started watching the clouds streaming by.

Then the turbulence starts.  I have to sit back lest I forcibly knock my head against said window, and I really don't want to start the vacation off with a concussion (no concussions in 2013!).  It gets bad enough that I grip the armrests and practice some deep breathing.

Finally, it passes.  I start to let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding when a hand reaches around the seat and grabs my arms, scaring the crap out of me.  At which point I press my face into the crack between the seats and say (over the airplane engines) "You scared the crap out of me!"
And my Unit snickers.  And then she flashes our "gang sign" -- SPRING BREAK!  2013!  WOOHOO!

We attempt to "whisper" to each other -- which is really stylized shouting over the airplane engines.
Her:  "Did you like the turbulence?"
Me:  "It scared me.  I may have peed on myself a little."
Her:  "What?"
Me:  "I PEED ON MYSELF!"
More snickering.

I pointed out to her that I was watching the cloud shapes roll by.  "That cloud looks like a vagina."
"What?"
"That CLOUD is a VAGINA!"
"You mean a 'clagina'?"
"Eww.  Sounds like a disease."
"Yeah.  'I'm sorry.  It looks like you have clagina.'"
"Feels like burning!!!"

We flew over the Keys, and it took a moment for me to realize that I wasn't watching more sky, but blue-green ocean.  I have never flown over ocean before.  We could see boats below, and my Unit pointed out that "you can ride on those boats around the islands."
Me:  "...."
Her:  "They usually serve cocktails."
Me:  "Let's go on a boat!!"

As promised, the landing was short and abrupt; my seat belt served its purpose excellently, keeping me from flying into the seat in front of me (no concussions in 2013!).  And then we stopped.  And they opened the door.

There was no "tunnel" or walkway leading into the airport proper.  In Key West, one deplanes directly on the tarmac, just like Elvis or the President!  I had never done that before.  It was a novel experience; I felt like a celebrity, just as the other hundred people felt, too, I'm sure.  And then we were smacked in the face with Key West's humidity, and I started to strip off as many layers (having just left 30 degree weather) as I could while not getting arrested.

We stood in line for a taxi, and got a PINK ONE!  I was so excited that we got the PINK TAXI that I shouted, "Woohoo!"  The cop in charge of assigning people to taxis said it made his day that I was so excited.  So I gave another "Woohoo!" just for him.

(In Key West, many taxis are pink, but only special people get to ride in them.)

We got to our adorable hotel room, and it came complete with a painting that looks like exactly one of my Unit's niece's pieces!

We felt very much at home.  We unpacked, changed into cooler clothes, and made our way to Duval Street.  It was 11 a.m. Key West time, and I was starving.

This is how we do lunch Spring Break-style.

Coming up:  dolphins, manatees, and Kermit the Frog!

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Key West Adventures Part One: 
My Unit and I had very different experiences going through airport security when we left for Key West at the ass-crack of dawn.  She was in line in front of me; while I was putting my shoes, coat, hoodie, and backpack in the grey plastic bins, I saw the security guard have her step to one side.  I didn't know what for, except maybe to wait her turn to go through the metal detector.

Oh, but wait.

It's not a regular metal detector, I realize as I step up.  It's two huge black walls, and the TSA agent is instructing me to "assume the position":  stand to one side facing one black wall with hands on my head, elbows out.  It's the back scatter x-ray that's not been completely tested, the one that give semi-nude scans to the agents running it, y'know, the thing that could potentially cause cancer.

My Unit is watching me.  She mouths, "Yeah, I'm not doing that."
I say back to her, "I didn't realize we had to," but my eyes are saying why the fuck did you let me walk into this thing??  And then the TSA agent tells me to stand still.

I seriously didn't realize that's what I was stepping up to.  One of the hazards of arriving at the airport at 5:30 a.m., I guess; my brain is still trying to process my surroundings.  If I had realized what was going on about five seconds earlier, I would have opted out, like my Unit did.

Speaking of my Unit, she was watching me get scanned.  She later said, "Oh my God, your boobs looked HUGE!"
Well, I was due to start my period in another day or so (yes, while on vacation), so they were extra big and swollen.
"Okay, Catwoman," she said.  "I bet the TSA guys watching were happy."

Then I stepped out of the scanner.  The gentleman in front of me still got a small pat-down even after being scanned.  The TSA agent took one look at me and said, "You're fine."  Apparently they didn't think I could fit anything else in my T-shirt and jeans.*
What?  They're not that tight!

I quickly tried to grab all of my stuff out of the plastic bins so I could catch up with my Unit as it had finally dawned on me what was happening:  her own personal pat-down.

A surly female TSA agent began patting her down under my watchful eye.  I saw that she used the back of her hand in places (like they're supposed to so as not to "grope").  It was hard to understand her instructions, though, between the airport noise and her (surly) lack of inflection.  My Unit had to say, "What?" or "I'm sorry?" at least twice, which just seemed to irritate the agent.

When we compared our two very different security experiences, my Unit said the female TSA agent had handled her quite roughly.  It didn't look rough from where I was standing, but I missed the very beginning when she said the lady grabbed her by the scruff of her neck.  Perhaps checking the neck is standard operating procedure, but my Unit's bleach blonde hair is cropped very short; there's no place to hide anything.  She also said that at least twice the woman nearly knocked her over/off-balance while pressing on her back and legs.  Neither of us could imagine being a handicapped or elderly person going through this process if that's the "regular" amount of force they use (my Unit is not a frail, slip of a thing).

Nothing else interesting happened until we after we changed planes.  Join us for the next Key West Adventure in "Cloud Vaginas and Elvis."




*The only other time that has happened to me was going into a concert.  I was wearing leather pants and a halter top.  It was the first concert after 9/11; the big burly security guard took one look at me (and my outfit) and said, "You're fine," and waved me through.  
Perhaps it is time to buy new jeans...