I Really Really Heart Star Trek

Star Trek absolutely fucking rocked!!!

Before you get any further, let me put a SPOILER ALERT here. Don't read the rest if you don't want to know what happens!

Now, onwards!

So it was really cool. It was exciting, funny, sad, finger-clenching cool. The two hours passed in the blink of an eye, and I would have happily sat through a much longer movie. There were great action sequences--Kirk and Spock kicking each others' asses on the the bridge of the Enterprise; Kirk, Sulu and a redshirt parachuting--from space!--down to a platform, where Sulu then engages in a kickass sword fight with a folding sword; the very beginning of the movie, involving the destruction of the USS Kelvin. There were lots of really funny parts, especially for Trekkies, who would understand the underlying humor in McCoy calling Spock a greenblooded hobgoblin, or telling him that he's out of his Vulcan mind. It was sad--Kirk's father died in the first 10 minutes of the movie, fighting the bad guys (evil Romulans with funky tattoos on their faces) so that his crew and his wife (giving birth in the shuttle to James Tiberius Kirk) could escape. Of course that made me cry. And then later, Vulcan was destroyed (let me repeat that: VULCAN WAS DESTROYED!!!!) and Amanda, Spock's mother, was one of the casualties.

So it was great. The plot device (the aforementioned evil time traveling Romulan changing the course of the future by going into the past) allowed the film to be true to the spirit of the the original Star Trek without having to slavishly follow its canon. And, though I was skeptical about that, it worked great. It was especially moving when young Kirk met old Spock from the future, who had been brought back in time by the Romulan.

I did have one issue. Kirk was supposed to have an older brother, George Samuel Kirk Jr, who died in the the original series episode "Operation: Annihilate!" But in the movie, there was no mention of Sam in the movie, not even a throwaway line saying that he was on another planet or anything. But that was my only quibble with the movie, and it is relatively minor.

There was a few people that I saw in costume. I, of course, was wearing my ears. They looked great! (Not really, but that's okay, they were fun to wear.)

So basically, Star Trek was super cool. You should go, immediately. Drop everything and head to the theatre right this minute!

I Heart Star Trek

So I was really excited the other day, when I got home and found my ears in the mailbox.

Not my real ears, of course. Those are firmly attached to the sides of my head, where they perform the vital functions of allowing me to hear, holding up my sunglasses, and providing a high speed expressway into my skull for bugs. No, no, I am talking about my Spock ears. Yes, I ordered some Spock ears online last week, and they finally arrived. I ordered them because I intend to wear them on Friday, when I go see the new Star Trek movie (cleverly named Star Trek). Because that is how I roll.

Yes, I love Star Trek. Unlike those people who feel uncomfortable with the name and prefer “Trekker,” I am a full fledged Trekkie, and proud of it. To me, saying that you are a “Trekker” is just a way of saying that you are ashamed of your love of Star Trek and trying to hide it behind a veneer of self deprecation. Whereas a Trekkie proudly embraces her geekness.

Yes, that is me. I am a geek. I know it, I accept it, I love it. I have the entire original Star Trek on DVD, as well as all the movies. I can quote lines from them. I own tons of Star Trek novels and dolls (or “action figures”). I have a Star Trek tattoo, for FSM’s sake.

I know some people wonder what the big deal is. What is it about this 40+ year old TV show that inspires such a devoted following? After all, you don't see people going to Green Acres conventions, or buying Gunsmoke action figures. What is it about Star Trek that makes it so special?

I can't answer for anyone else, of course, but I love it for several reasons. First off, is the simple quality of the shows. A terrible Star Trek episode (and there are many--yes, I am talking to you, "Spock's Brain"!) is much better than a good episode of a lot of the crap that is on TV. The stories are interesting, and the writing and acting are usually pretty good.

Secondly, the characters are just so perfect. They are real people, with insecurities and faults and wonderfully deep emotions. The arrogant, confident, swaggering captain, who cares for each member of his crew and will do everything in his power to keep them safe. The coolly, relentlessly logical science-answer-man, who nonetheless has a deep core of affection for his human friends. The self doubting doctor, who somehow always manages to find the answers and save the day. And then there is their interaction, as friends and crewmates. When Kirk risks his career to save Spock's life, I think we can all identify with that. We all hope we would have a friend that cared enough about us to do that. And though Spock and McCoy fight all the time, you know that underneath, they really care for each other.

I think the most attractive element of the show, though, is the wonderful vision of the future that it presents. Lots of science fiction shows a dystopian future: the planet ruined, humanity destroyed by war or disease or environmental catastrophe. Even the ones that look really nice usually have a rotten core, with evil dictators or mind-control or mad robots behind the scenes. Basically, the future never looks like someplace you would want to live. And then along comes Star Trek. In that future, humanity, instead of destroying itself with some sort of doomsday weapon, has become united. People are no longer judged by their race or sex, or hell, even by their species (Vulcans are people too, you know). Poverty and war and disease have been erased from Earth. And people flourish, spreading into space, exploring, ever onward. As Tennyson says in "Ulysses": "To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."

So that is why I love Star Trek. And that is why I took off work Friday afternoon, to go see the new movie. I already have my tickets. And I've got my Spock ears, and a Star Trek themed shirt to wear. And I will be there, all geeked out and proud of it. I hope I'll see you there!

Think Before You Click

Ahh, my friends. You know I love you. I love to talk to you, I love to laugh with you, and I love to get emails from you. But, please, before you forward me any more emails, let's set a few ground rules.

Most importantly: I like funny. Funny is good. Not funny is not good. Do you understand where I am going with this? I like it when you send me jokes. Jokes are great! Everyone loves to laugh! But when you send me not-jokes, it makes me sad. Like, cry-and-wear-sackcloth-and-ashes sad. So keep that in mind before you hit the "Forward" button, okay?

Secondly: I am a registered Democrat. I have been a Democrat since I was old enough to understand what the parties stood for. You are not going to change my mind. So you can stop sending me emails about how Obama genetically engineered swine flu to kill off conservatives, or quotes by Rush "Idiot" Limbaugh, or pictures of soldiers with captions about how they are saving the country. And those emails that end with "Forward this unless you are a coward!" do not make me want to forward them. They make me want to delete them. They make me want to go back in time so I can have never even read them in the first place. On the other hand, I also do not want my inbox flooded with petitions for Democratic causes, or articles from The Nation. Basically, let's keep the email politics free. Unless it's a really funny joke. I am fully in favor of political jokes. Even about Democrats. I am an equal opportunity laugher.

On a somewhat related note (though I wish it weren't) I am also not interested in religious emails. I do not believe in angels (especially not ones that promise you money), and no amount of email is going to convince me otherwise. I do not pray, not even for the troops, or poor cancer stricken children, or little lost dogs. I do not read the Bible, and sending me quotes from it is not going to make me curious enough to pick it up. I've already done so. It was boring. Shakespeare is much more interesting. Also, Star Trek. I do not believe in the Judeo-Christian god. I am a Pastafarian who worships the Noodly Appendages of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. If you want to send me stuff about the FSM, that is fine. Just don't ask me to pray to him.

Also, though I love you very much, I don't want to read emails about how we are sisters or how you are sending me a rose, unless I fail to send the email back to you within 10 minutes, in which case you are never speaking to me again.

I do not want pictures of cute animals/cute babies/sunsets/flowers/wildlife, etc. Unless the picture is accompanied by a great funny caption (see I Can Has Cheezburger for examples of this.) I especially do not want those cutesy pictures if they are accompanied by Bibles verses, or sayings about god's love, or any of that stuff.

Do not send me warnings for scary things without first checking them with Snopes. Most likely, they are not true, and you could save everyone some time and worry if you check before you send. There is no point is passing on unfounded hysteria!

Please, please, please, please, before you send the email, delete all the excess junk from the top and bottom of it. I do not need to see the addresses of all 3000 people who were sent this email previously, along with their commentary on how "this is a great one!". I do not need to see all the ads and confidentiality notices at the bottom. Just delete all that junk and only send along the meat of the email.

Do not believe everything you read. Just because an email says that if you forward it to 10 people, you will get a million dollars, or a cute little animation will pop up, or some company will donate money to poor cancer stricken children, does not mean it is true. In fact, it is almost certainly not true. But who does it hurt? you might ask. Me, that's who. Too much junk in her inbox makes Panda Loca a dull boy.

In fact, too much anything in an inbox is not a good thing. So don't send ginormous attachments. They will probably just get deleted for clogging up my inbox.

So, in conclusion, here is a simple rule of thumb. Before you hit "Forward" think about your reaction to the email in question. If it made you say "aww, how cute!" or tear up, or want to pray, or get very worried, do not forward it. If, however, it made you laugh, or say "what the fuck is that?" please, send it along. Remember: funny is good, not-funny is bad. Jokes, funny pictures, hilarious videos...all great. Prayers, pictures of impossibly cute babies or animals, chain letters...not good at all.

And yes, I know, the tone of this post is a little angry, but please don't take that to heart. Unless you are one of the email abusers. Then, please remember that when I take over the world, I will be the one deciding your fate. I'm sure you don't want to piss me off, right? I didn't think so. So think before you click!

A Special Surprise

So I was in a pretty good mood this morning. It's Thursday, which is nice. My kid has been sick, but she was feeling better today. The weather is warming up. I have a really good lunch (turkey and provolone on a hard roll, some Lay's potato chips, a Coke). All in all, I felt it was going to be a pretty good day.

And then I got to work and discovered a fucking booger on my sweater.

At least, that's what I assume it is. It's a brownish smear, about the size of a dime, on the back left shoulder of the sweater that I leave hung on my chair. More importantly, it wasn't there when I left work yesterday. Which means someone put it there after I left. Using my deductive reasoning skills, I can only assume that that "someone" was one of the cleaning people.

I really hate the cleaning people who work in my building. To begin with, I don't think they actually clean anything. Well, I guess they must scrub the toilets and stuff, though I have never actually seen them do that. For all I know, the toilets get cleaned by magic elves at night. But for argument's sake, I guess we can say it's done by the cleaning people. And sometimes they vacuum. Though not well. I have found old pieces of popcorn under my desk weeks after dropping them. And right now I can see a cherry pit that was dropped probably a year ago, and it's still sitting there on the floor, laughing at me. But, though I sometimes find pieces of feathers on my desk, they never actually dust. So the quality of the "cleaning" is suspect to begin with.

Then there is the fact that the entire cleaning staff seems to be comprised of practical jokers. There have been multiple occasions when we have gotten to work and all found our desks messed with: computer monitors turned backwards, supplies and knickknacks rearranged, and chairs lowered or raised. I have even had things on my desk broken. I don't know if the cleaning people think that fucking with our stuff is part of cleaning, or they are just having fun, getting back at the evil people that make them vacuum up cherry pits, since they are only here at night when there is no one to watch them.

But this...this is too much. A booger, stuck to my sweater. A booger! And not just a little one, but a big gloppy brown one. It looks like the dad booger from those Mucinex commercials, complete with fedora and wife-beater. Makes me want to gag. Plus, it had to have been done on purpose. I mean, if they accidentally cut their hand and some blood dripped onto my sweater, I could understand that. It's an accident. Gross, but an accident. But there is no way on earth that this huge booger accidentally got onto my sweater.

Speaking of my sweater, I, obviously, can never wear it again. So now I am freezing, because the air conditioner in this place is always on high and I sit right under a vent. I have a hoodie in my bag, but hoodies are against the dress code. I am thinking of risking it, though, because I am cold. And if one of my bosses says something, I will just wave the booger in their faces.

I totally cannot conceive of this. How does a sane, rational, semi-intelligent adult rub a booger onto another person's possessions? Hell, even my 6 year old knows better than that! She might eat her boogers, but she never wiped them on anything, especially something that didn't belong to her. So I am sitting here at my desk, totally flabbergasted, and suffering from Post Booger Stress Disorder. I am going to need counseling to get over this trauma.

So now I am trying to think of ways to get back at the cleaning people. Something creative, yet revolting. Ideas so far include throwing up all over my desk just before I leave for the day, so that they have to clean it, or leaving a used tampon on the desk. Both of those are excellent, I think. But I am still thinking about it. I wish I could get a hold of some anthrax. I would spread it all over my desk just before I left for the day. That would be a great revenge! But I will probably have to settle for throwing lots of crumbs on the floor and then getting those bastards in trouble when they don't vacuum them up.

Man, I hate people. And boogers are disgusting.

A Quickie

Hello, my minions. This is just a quick note, because I wanted to tell you about something interesting I found the other day. I was reading an article about the "Lamest Blogs on the Web." And, truly, most of these blogs were incredibly lame. A Paris Hilton fan site? Kim Kardashian's personal blog? Photos of celebrity hairstyles? Totally lame. But one was different. Interesting, quirky, and definitely not lame. So either the author of the piece has no sense of humor, or they really love this blog and just wanted a way to plug it to a larger audience. Either way, you should check it out. If you love me (and I know you do!) you'll like this one too.
http://theadventuresofpatoneil.blogspot.com/
And have a good weekend, wonderful little minions. I will talk to you again soon!

Sick TV

Ahh, my minions. I know, you have missed me terribly. I'm so sorry to have left you alone for so long, weeping and wailing and gnashing your teeth over the loss of me. I am here now! So don't cry anymore.


Or, well, I guess you can cry if you want to. Lots of people do, when I am talking to them. Usually, because I am saying evil things, like telling them exactly how stupid they are. I twist my lip just so, get an evil glint in my eyes, get the whole furrowed brow thing going...and people are sobbing at my feet, begging me not to hurt them.


Okay, I guess I am being a little bit overdramatic. Just a little bit. But some day, the mere mention of my name will be enough to make the masses tremble!


Anyways. Enough with the self-aggrandizement. Let's get down to business.

So, the reason I am able to post right at all is that I am home today, sick with a cold. I know, you thought that I, in my evilness, would be immune from such common things as viruses, but even evil goddesses get sick occasionally. I woke up this morning with a horrible pressure in my head and nose, which allowed me to have a marvelous revelation: I know what it feels like to be an Egyptian mummy! The Egyptians, when they mummified someone, pulled out many of their organs and put them in special jars, which were then sealed in the tomb with the person. But, for some reason, they saw no purpose in preserving the brain. Instead, a small hook was inserted up the dead person's nostril, breaking the bone between the nose and brain. Then the hook would be stirred around until the brain turned to liquid, at which point it would be drained out of the nose. Fun! And that's how I felt this morning, like someone was yanking my brain out of my head and into my sinus cavity. Gotta love colds!

So anyways, since I have been sick today, I have spent the whole day, until now, laying on the couch watching TV. I have one very important thing to say about that: I am eternally grateful that I have cable. If I had been forced to sit around watching the network crap like Good Morning America and General Hospital all day, I would have committed suicide by overdosing on my cold medicine.

Even with cable, there is not a lot of great TV on during the day. All the really good shows--Monk, Psych, Eureka, Burn Notice, In Plain Sight--are on vacation right now, and the other really good ones that are currently on the air--reruns of House and Seinfeld, Mythbusters, The Starter Wife--are not on during the day. So I had to settle for whatever I could stomach watching. And, during the past six hours, I learned several important things.

First off, there are a lot of demented/freaky/stupid/just plain annoying commercials. For instance, those Charmin commercials with the blue dancing cartoon bears. I'm sorry, but watching how well Charmin works on wiping bear asses does not convince me that I should buy it for my family. None of us are covered with blue fur, so the analogy really doesn't work. And watching the toilet paper get stuck to their butts is simply unappealing. I think I will stick with the generic brand that uses real humans in its advertisements and does not show pictures of anyone's ass.

Then there are those commercials for various beauty products, the ones that always show a "before and after" picture. Have you ever noticed how the people in the "before" picture are always gloomy-looking, as if they had just found out their mother had terminal cancer or something? And then in the "after" picture, they are always smiling away, like they just won the lottery! Though those smiles look demented to me. Not so much "look how pretty I am" as "I'm a total freak who just wasted $5 on chemicals to slather on my face and I'm probably going to get cancer!" Hmm. Maybe the smile is part of why they always look so much nicer in the "after" picture! So if you smile, you'll look nice naturally and you won't have to go out and buy overpriced crap to slather on your face! (Uh oh. I don't think I was supposed to figure that out! The powerful cosmetics industry is probably sending assassins to my door as we speak, and I will be found dead this evening, stabbed to death with mascara brushes.)

And now, with Christmas coming, there are two types of Christmas-themed commercials that really bug me. The first are those commercials where they sing a Christmas song, but replace the lyrics with words pertaining to whatever they are selling. Do I really need to hear "Deck the Halls" with words about how great your store/product is? No, I don't. The second kind of Christmas-themed commercial that really annoys me are the ones that suggest that practically anything can be given as a Christmas present. Now, I know there are lots of people out there who buy cars. But I have never in my life met anyone who bought someone else a car for Christmas. I mean, honestly. Who has $20,000 just laying around and decides to spend it on a car for another person? If I had an extra $20,000, you can be damn sure that I would not be spending it on anyone but me. I have also seen commercials suggesting that vacuum cleanings, electric toothbrushes, and electric razors would all make great gifts for that "special someone." I don't know about you, but if someone gave me a vacuum cleaner for Christmas, they would not be welcome in my house for a good long time after that. Also, they might very soon thereafter have to undergo experimental surgery to remove the vacuum cleaner hose from their right nostril.

The second thing I learned today is that I am an idiot. Well, not learned, exactly. I already knew that. But today reinforced it. See, here's the thing. I am deathly afraid of ghosts. I think they are cool, I think they are interesting and fascinating...and if I ever actually saw one, I would pee in my pants. And yet, today, sitting at home--alone, no less--I watched two shows about ghosts. I don't know why I do that. I know the shows will scare me. But I watch them anyways, all huddled on the couch with a blanket over my head, like that is going to save me from the absolute horror of looking around and seeing an actual ghost in my house.

Thirdly, I learned about how best to commit a murder. The shows I watched--aside from the scary ghost shows--were all true crime type shows, about how the cops caught murderers and pinned the murders on them, all using forensic stuff. Basically, if you decide to kill someone, be sure you 1) don't tell anyone else about it (those snitches are a real pain in the ass) and 2) don't leave any DNA behind. One of the guys got caught because he had used his teeth to rip the duct tape he put over the victim's mouth, so he left saliva on the tape, which the detectives were able to lift DNA from. Very cool. So when I start murdering people, I will be sure to wear gloves and a hairnet and not to lick anything.

So, those are the lessons I gleaned today from watching cable TV for six hours straight. And people have the nerve to say that TV is not educational! Ha! What fools you mortals be!

Man, I am getting delirious. It's the lack of brains, I think. I need another shot of Nyquil. And so, minions, I will leave you for now.

The Agony of Stupidity

So perhaps some of you little minions have decided to watch the Olympics. Perhaps you are fools. Because, honestly, the Olympics rank right up there, for entertainment value, with do-it-yourself liposuction. (Actually, though I do not think it would be fun to perform do-it-yourself liposuction, it could be very amusing to watch. That could be the newest reality show! I Suck...My Own Fat! And sometimes they would make mistakes like accidentally sucking out their kidneys and die. Imagine the ratings!)

But anyways, as you have no doubt guessed, I have a very low opinion of the Olympics. It's not just the Olympics, though, it's all sports. I think sports are very stupid. I have no problem with people playing them for fun, or for exercise, or (primarily in bowling leagues) as an excuse to get drunk in the guise of doing something productive. But high school and college sports? Utterly ridiculous. People are there to learn, not to run around playing games.

And professional sports are even dumber. Why do athletes get paid multi-millons of dollars to run around with little balls (and yes, that double entendre was intended) while important people, like teachers, are lucky to scrape by? It's all very wrong and backwards and an indication of how stupid our priorities are. Why do we care so much about these stupid little games? Why are the people who play them worshipped, called heroes? Ooh, you can throw a ball really fast! That makes you a very good, heroic person who deserves the adulation of millions! Idiotic.

So when people start making big deals out of sports, I think it is very stupid. And the Olympics are just the epitome of stupidity. I mean, really. Let's say there was some sort of international reading competition. Would millions of people fly halfway around the world to watch it, and billions more watch it on TV? Of course not. Everyone would think it was very lame. But if it involves running or swimming or throwing, well then, that makes it okay!

And don't get me started on the so-called "sports" that they show there. Competitive badminton? Curling? Shooting? Someone please explain to me how shooting is a sport. You point the gun and pull the trigger. It's just like playing Duckhunt on your original Nintendo. So if shooting is a sport, then Duckhunt should be too. Arguably, Duckhunt would be more of an actual sport, because I bet when you shoot in the Olympics, you don't have some evil little dog snickering at you when you miss. And then you can't even shoot that little bastard dog. I always wanted to shoot him.

But anyways, this is why I have always thought of sports as stupid. Yes, people should exercise and have fun, and that's great. But when people's entire lives revolve around playing--or worse, watching someone play--a game...someone needs some serious professional help. Fantasy football, children named after sports teams, riots over soccer matches...can you people not see the insanity?

This is why, when I take over the world, all sports will be banned on the professional level. Sure, you can be an athlete, but you will also have to have a real, productive job that makes you an actual productive member of society, as opposed to a leech, which is what professional athletes are. The only authorized sport will be Ninja Warrior. (And if you don't know what I'm talking about, check it out on G4 network...waaaaaay better than the Olympics.)

So those are my thoughts on the Olympics. Please feel free to watch them if you must. But just remember, if you do, you're stupid.

Oh, and a little postscript about our last guest post. A person who shall remain nameless has requested that I make it very clear that it was not him picking his nose and eating the boogers, and he doesn't want you to think so just because he has an iPod like the booger eater. Just because one booger eater has an iPod doesn't mean all iPod users are booger eaters! Just FYI!

And The Winner Is...

.Well! I must say, I am very offended! Whichever one of you minions won my contest didn't bother to post a reply, thereby leaving all of us in suspense as we waited for someone, anyone, to come forward and claim the ultimate prize of writing wonderful things about me! And so, since the winner did not reply, I have appointed a winner. So, today we will read a guest post by Pure Poison:

Mysterious #111...this person who will remain nameless and therefore pretty much anonymous failed to enter in their praise and glory of our fearless yet evil future priestess of world-domination. Therefore, with bruised and battered shoulders, I shall carry the burden alone of submitting my own rambling and incohesive rant.

Now this opens the door to endless possibilities, but let's stay on the subject of creepy men, since we've all encountered one from time to time, or in some cases on a daily basis. Now you expect this to come from your toddler...toddlers, as most of us had experiences, have little to no problem in sticking the unknown into their mouths from time to time. We've all caught them exploring for those golden nostril nuggets and, to our disgust, proceeding to taste-test this gooey,sticky substance.

Fast forward to present day...you're sitting in your cube, eyes dropping and head beginning to nod down, then back up. As you wipe the sleepiness from your eyes, you look at your surroundings and catch a glimpse of the creepy dude in the cube next to yours. You notice that the hip of his finger had become lodges in his nose. You begin to wonder...is his brain leaking out? Does he get better reception from his iPod this way? But before you have a chance to look away, he removes his finger and proceeds to dine on the new-found delicacy on his fingertip.

You try to suppress the gagging noises coming from your throat as you race down the hallway. The moment becomes surreal and you begin to question your own sanity. Now, you knew the creepy dude in the next cube was a little odd, but you tried to ignore his peculiarities. But this is just too much. Certainly your boss wouldn't expect you to work under these conditions. Creepy dudes should be locked behind closed doors where no one can see them. Or at least behind 2 foot thick glass so that those who desire can observe from afar. Coincidentally, there is an office that resembles a glass-enclosed monkey cage. You pity those poor souls that have to work in there. You feel like throwing peanuts as you walk by. They look so defeated in that little room.

As you continue to walk around, you soon realize that you can't walk the hallways forever. You know your boss will not be sympathetic to your plight. So, reluctantly, with eyes averted, you trudge back to your own cube, realizing that you have to spend the rest of your days next to the booger-eater. Gross!

Wonderful post, Pure Poison! (and I won't even point out that the initials for "pure poison" are "PP." Like...pee pee! Ha! Yes, I am being juvenile. Who gives a shit?) So now, minions, do you see what you missed out on? The opportunity to tell the whole world about the things that you hate, the things that bug the crap out of you, the people you long to kill? But Pure Poison took advantage of it, in true Temple of Boredom fashion! And so, today (and today only) you must worship her as you would worship me! All hail Pure Poison!

Okay, now shut up, Pure Poison. This is my little world, after all.

Longwinded Rambling

Hello, all of my loyal minions! I am so sorry that I have been neglecting you lately. I know, I know, you have been crying into your oatmeal without me, but I am here now, so rejoice! And, by the way, you should really think about not eating oatmeal anymore, because it is disgusting.

So anyways, I know I have mentioned my computer access problems before, what with my husband who is surgically attached to the computer. But today, I managed to get on the computer, because I sent him to the store. (With instructions to buy pads. I think that is one of the perks of being a woman, is sending your husband/boyfriend to the store and telling him to buy pads/tampons. It's so much fun embarrassing them like that!)

Today, I have several things that I want to tell you about, but first, I am announcing a Temple of Boredom contest! (Insert loud cheering, falling confetti, and fireworks here.) If you happen to go all the way to the bottom of the page, you will notice that there is a page hit counter there (under the cute picture of the evil kitty). Now, it took me a while to install that counter (I am not the most computer savvy individual, though I do know how to look up porn online) but since it was put on the page, I have had 106 hits (as of 6:09 p.m. today). So, this is our contest. Whichever one of you little minions is hit number 111 (because one and one and one is three) will win the grand prize of...making a guest post to the Temple of Boredom! So, if you are #111, add a comment below this post, and you will get to post about anything you want: how much you love being my minion, how much you wish you could be like me, how you are going to worship me after I take over the world...the possibilities are endless! So make sure you check the hit counter.

Now, on to today's amusing anecdote. It concerns a very scary, very weird, very annoying man that I have the misfortune of working with. It wouldn't be so bad, because he doesn't work in my department, but he works in IT, which means he is always coming downstairs and wandering around for hours, which gives him the perfect opportunity to stare down all the girls' shirts. Because, you've guessed it, he is a giant perv. One night, a friend and I had gone to the bar, and we were just hanging out, having a couple of quiet drinks, when Creepy Man pops out of nowhere and decides to sit at our table. Since we didn't want to appear rude, we let him. Then, he started buying drinks for my friend but not for me. How rude is that! I may be married and there is no way in hell I would sleep with him even if I wasn't, but he could still have bought me a drink! So after a while, we got sick of him, and told him that we were "going to the bathroom." Then we found another table and continued our nice night...until he hunted us down and sat with us again! Ugh. So we left after that. But not before he asked us to drive him home! I would have, if I could have thought of an excuse for strapping him into the carseat in the back seat and driving the car into the river.

So, as you can see, this guy is a creepy freaky pervish man, and I really hate talking to him. Every time he is waiting for the elevator, I get on the phone, just so I have an excuse not to talk to him. Because he scares me.

So anyways, the other day, I was standing across the street from work, waiting for the light to change so I could walk across. A bus passed in front of me, and I could see my reflection in the windows. And suddenly, I felt like I was in a horror movie. You know, in horror movies, how there is usually a part where the idiot hero/heroine looks in a mirror or window, and you see their reflection, but also the reflection of whatever evil person/creature/monster is chasing them? Well, that is exactly what happened. Right behind me, maybe 3 feet away, appeared...Creepy Man! I could hear the screeching violins from the Psycho shower scene playing in my head as soon as I saw him. It was terrible. I immediately started praying that the light would change, so that I could run across the street and not get stuck talking to him.

Today, I took the day off work, which was very nice. Got to sleep semi-late, went and bought babyshower supplies (because I am in charge of a babyshower at work tomorrow), and then I took my kid swimming. And guess what happened at the pool? Well, not techinically at the pool. More in the parking lot outside. I hit a parked car! Yay me! So I felt like a total dumbass. I left the person a note with my phone number, and thankfully the woman called me a little while ago and told me not to worry about it, because it was just a scratch, so that took a weight off of my mind. But still...I am an idiot! Stupid Grannymobile, not being able to be parked like a normal car. Maybe I should get one of those beeping warning things that beeps when you back up, and a big orange flag to wave.

Man, I am just rambling now. Sorry, minions. It's been a long day, what with swimming and hitting a parked car. I am going to sign off now. Especially because I have to go finish crocheting a baby blanket for that shower tomorrow. I am not done with it yet. Whoops! So anyways, remember to check the hit counter and leave your comments! And be glad that I have not decided to kill anyone today!

The Route #6 Bus Goes Straight To Hell...20 Minutes Late

So, in an effort to help save the planet (and save my wallet) I have been taking the bus to and from work for the past week. At first, I was pretty scared--I haven't taken a bus since I was in middle school, and the people that you see waiting at bus stops are usually pretty creepy--but a friend convinced me to give it a try. She said that the buses were clean, there were no creepy people on the commuter routers, and it would give me a good chance to read. Since I am firmly in favor of cleanliness and reading, and very much against creepiness, I decided to be adventurous and to do it.

And it's been going well! Sure, there are some creepy people, but not as many as you would expect, since I think all of the really creepy ones are still sleeping off their hangovers at 7:30 a.m. (There is one woman on the bus that I ride in the afternoon that is not so much creepy as just nasty. She's humongously fat, like a walking bowling ball, with tiny little feet, and either her pants are too tight, or her legs are just disgusting, because the tops of her pant legs look like she has tons and tons kleenex stuffed in them. I think someone should buy her a mumu. Maybe I will try to organize a bus Christmas gift exchange and get her one. She sat next to me yesterday, and I was afraid that I was going to get eaten by her blobbishness, and all anyone would ever find of me would be my shoes, left on the floor of the bus.)

So anyways, things have been going well on the bus. I've learned my route, I've found the closest stop to my house, I haven't been late to work yet...everything's been great! So I should have suspected that it was too good to last. And, if I had suspected that, today I would have been proved right.

Not that this is anything new, but I was in a terrible mood this morning to begin with. Amazing, isn't it? Because I am normally just a total ray of sunshine! But not this morning. This morning, there was a giant black cloud floating over my head, just like in a cartoon, complete with miniature rain and lightning storm. This was, naturally, because I didn't get enough sleep. The kid decided that 4 to 6 a.m. would be a great time to talk about her day, how weird her dreams are, about how she picked up a cockroach by accident...the sort of stuff that everyone wants to talk about from 4 to 6 a.am instead of sleeping.

So anyways, I was sleepy and grumpy (and dopey) this morning, but I dragged myself out of bed, showered, brushed my teeth, all the normal stuff, and walked my tired ass down to the bus stop. I will now give you a minute-by-minute breakdown of what happened next:

• 7:15--Arrive at bus stop. Lean back against pole holding big blue and red sign that says "The Bus Stops Here" and "Route #6" and wait.
• 7:16-7:24--Continue to wait for bus, while watching how crazily people drive and being glad that I don't have to suffer road rage from driving with them.
• 7:25--See #6 bus pull onto street and start heading towards me. Bus does not appear to be slowing, so I wave at it to get the driver's attention.
• 7:26--Watch bus drive right past me without stopping.
• 7:27--Stare helplessly after quickly disappearing bus.
• 7:27-7:35--Race my ass down the street to the big bus station, where I know there is another bus that heads to the same general area that I want to go to.
• 7:35-7:40--Stand outside of parked bus while bus driver wanders around the station.
• 7:40-8:10 (and bear in mind that I am supposed to be to work at 8:00)--Take different bus in the general direction of my work, but by a much different route. Instead of driving through nice residential neighborhoods, with schools and houses all around, we went down Central, which is one of the nastiest, creepiest streets in the whole city. There were tons of creepy people on this bus.
• 8:10-8:20--Take a second bus to my work, arriving 20 minutes late.

As you can see from the above chart, I did not have a good morning. And frankly, I am reconsidering my decision to ride the bus. Creepy people are one thing...creepy people and being late for work...it was a bit much for me. But of course, I have to ride it home this afternoon. So when I see that bus driver, I think I am going to kill him by stuffing my bus pass down his throat. Or maybe I will wait until after I get off and then call the cops and report a drunken bus driver. Then at least he will have an excuse for not picking me up.

How To Go Postal In 20 Minutes Or Less!

I finally have a referent for the phrase "going postal." And it came, unsurprisingly, courtesy of the US Postal Service.

I had ordered the first season of Burn Notice (which is, by the way, a great show. The new season starts July 10...you should check it out!) from Amazon a couple of weeks ago, and it was supposed to be delivered on June 23. So I was very excitedly tracking it online every day, to see how much closer it was. (It ended up sitting in Denver for nearly a week...stupid Denver.) And on June 23, I couldn't wait to get home and open my package!

Alas, it was not to be. I got home to an empty mailbox, an empty porch, no sign of the ever-cheerful Amazon box with its little smiley face. So I was disappointed, but I figured that it would definitely arrive the next day. And sure enough, the next day when I did the online tracking, it showed that my package had arrived in town the day before. However, it also showed that a "delivery attempt" had been made at 3:00 on June 23, but there was no one home. Which is total bullshit. My husband was home all day, and had anyone knocked, he would have heard it. So I knew right then that they were lying.

The website also said that since delivery had been "attempted," a little orange slip would have been left at my door, telling me when to expect a second delivery attempt. Which was also bullshit. So I decided to call the Post Office's Customer Service number, to find out what had become of my package.

I picked the number that specifically said it was for Tracking and Confirmation, since that seemed like the most logical place to start. I had my tracking number ready, called the number I had found...and got to talk to a computer.

It wasn't just one of those that gives you your menu options and you get to hit #1 for English, or whatever. No, this was one of those computers that pretends it's a person, the kind that says things like "What can I help you with today?" or "I'm sorry, I didn't understand that." Because of course you have to talk to it.

Now, I am not a big talker. Sure, I talk to my friends, or to people that I hope will give me money. But talking to strangers is not one of my favorite pastimes. Talking to computers that are pretending to be fully conscious human beings, when in fact they are even stupider than most of the people I am forced to see on a daily basis (and that's really saying something, because most of the people I see on a daily basis have the intelligence of bread. Really really stupid bread. In fact, listening to the people at my work causes my IQ to drop at least 3 points a day) does not make me happy at all.

So I was already not a happy camper, even though the phone call had just started. But it got worse. I followed the voice prompts, actually talking to the stupid computer since I had no other choice, and got to a place where I could enter my tracking number. I did so, and was told that "No information is available at this time." That, of course, just made my blood pressure rise even more. And I determined that the computer would unable to help me and I needed to talk to an actual human being. So I started hunting through the voice prompts for that option.

What an idiot I am! I should have known that it would not be that easy. Those computer phone systems are designed to carefully shield the human workers from the actual customers. So the stupid computer would ask me something, such as "Would you like to order postal products?" and I would say "Customer Service," or "Talk to a person," and that annoyingly cheerful voice (which is all the more annoying by its very inability to convey emotion. If I am annoyed, I want the person on the other end of the phone to be annoyed, too. But that stupid computer phone voice bitch just kept being perky.) kept saying "I'm sorry, that is not an option" or some stupid shit like that. Or I wouldn't say anything, but the idiot computer would mistake the sound of me breathing for an answer, so it would switch me into a different menu.

I spent 20 minutes trying to get around that evil phone system. 20 minutes!! 20 minutes of my life, stolen by the US Postal Service and their evil, incredibly stupid but oh-so-perky phone voice woman! I was ready to kill her by the time I got through to an actual human, ready to wrap the phone cord around her neck and just squeeeeeze very slowly, while she said, in that relentlessly cheerful voice, "I'm sorry, that is not an option at this time!" And then she would die, and lay lifeless on the floor, and I would stab her repeatedly with my letter opener, and I would feel so much better!

So eventually, it all worked out. Despite the phone voice woman's efforts, I was eventually able to get an actual human, who told me where I could pick up my package, and I did, and the DVDs are great, just like I knew they would be. So it's okay, it's fine, I no longer feel homicidal, which I'm sure makes everyone who knows me feel better. But my ordeal has caused me to have a new and greater understanding of how someone could go into a Post Office and kill everyone with a shot gun. Except, when I do it, I'm going to use a rocket launcher. And I'm going after the phone banks first.

A Restful Saturday Morning

Yay! I found something new to be pissed off about! Lucky me!

So this is what happened: Since it's the weekend, I thought I would get to sleep in late yesterday. Not too late, of course, because of the kid, but later than normal. Heck, if I'm lucky (of I remember to drug the kid with Benadryl before she goes to bed) I can usually sleep until about 9:00, so I thought I could accomplish at least that much. How stupid of me! Because my next-door neighbor apparently decided that it would be a great day to have a work crew come put new cement in his freaking driveway...at 7:30 in the fucking morning. Yes, that's right...7:30.

Needless to say, I was not pleased. I had the window in the bedroom open to catch the cool nighttime breezes, so as soon as a giant truck pulled up in front of my house and a bunch of men jumped out and started throwing tons of bricks and a bunch of metal onto the ground and yelling at each other in Spanish, I got woken up. I called the cops, but there apparently no law against doing construction at 7:30 in the morning in a residential neighborhood, or so I was told. So I just got to be miserable, until 9:00, when it was time to start getting ready for my daughter's ballet class.

Well, when it was time to leave, with only 20 minutes to drive across town and get to the class, we stepped outside...to find a cement mixing truck blocking our driveway. So the workmen had to move it. And when we came home, two hours later, it was to find another big truck, this one full of bricks, again blocking the driveway. This time, there were no workmen in sight, but the neighbor was out there, so I rolled down my window and asked her--nicely!--to please have the workers move the truck. And she told me no! That's right, she said no, that I could park in the street and the workers would be gone in a while! Can you believe the nerve of that bitch? First, I get woken up, my precious sleep disturbed by their noise, and then I can't even park in my own fucking driveway! So, yes, I was very pissed at that point. So I went inside to call the cops again, but my husband decided to go talk to them himself and got them to move the truck.

So I didn't get to have my neighbor arrested, unfortunately. But, as a result of this little issue, I am probably going to go outside tomorrow and find a potato in my tail pipe, or something like that. After all, how dare I disturb their cement pouring! But that's okay, because I have a plan. If those neighbors do anything to my stuff, I will go get the turtle that they keep in their back yard (which also makes a great deal of noise, a very strange noise, sort of like a tuba with a cold) and make it into a turtle soup and give it to them as a gift. Because you don't mess with my sleep.

Quiet Time (So Please Shut The Hell Up!)

Ahh. Here I am, 9:00 on a Thursday night with nothing to do. I already watched the TV I wanted for tonight (My Boys, on TBS...great show). I could be watching Burn Notice (USA) but it's an episode that I've already seen. (Man, I do watch an awful lot of TV, don't I? Oh well. My brain is already rotted from listening to the conversations that the idiots at work have all day, so it can't do any more damage. And there are some great shows on cable!) Anyways, I wouldn't be able to hear it over the sound of my screaming child.

I'm sure that any peeping toms in the bushes outside right now think that someone is being killed in my house, when in fact it is just my child, crying over the fact that I made her go to bed without a second bedtime snack. This is the same child who was once eating boogers in Walmart. When I told her to stop it, she looked at me, all innocent with giant eyes, and said "But Mommy, I'm soooo hungry!" I'm surprised that none of the other customers called Child Protective Services on me, to report that my poor child had nothing to eat but boogers. (Or maybe not, considering the quality of Walmart's customers.) So maybe she needs to eat more. But that is not my fault...I told her to eat dinner! But she was more interested in being Snow White and dancing around in plastic high heels (the same ones that made her sprain her ankle--twice!--last year) and trying to make me kiss her Kermit the Frog doll. Kids are freaking weird.

I know I haven't posted in a while, but I really haven't had anything much to complain about lately. Of course, I have seen bad drivers, but it hasn't been as egregious as usual. Also, I think the people at work have finally gotten the hint that I hate them all. Only the die-hard annoying ones have tried to bug me lately, and I brought a set of earplugs to work the other day, so I really can't hear them now. It's a great feeling. Also, it's been kinda hard to post, on a purely physical level. I'm at Monkey Headquarters all day, where I am not allowed to blog, on pain of being spoken to sternly by my oh-so-scary boss, and at home, I almost never have access to a computer, because Mr. Loca is a bona fide computer game addict. I am quite convinced that if something bad happened right outside our door--say, like, World War 3, or a nuclear war--he would never even notice it, unless it disconnected our internet. He would notice that damn quick!

So I am pretty much computerless at home, unless I bribe him with sex or something. (Not that I live up to the bribe, but it usually works anyways. Guys are so dumb!) But tonight, I have computer access because Mr. Loca has Gone Out With The Guys, leaving me with the screaming brat and an otherwise-peaceful house. Ahh.

So when I was checking my email earlier, I had my usual word-of-the-day email. Today's word was a great one: Defenestrate. Guess what it means! No idea? Okay, fine, I will tell you. It means to throw someone or something out of a window! How great is that? English specifically has a word for throwing people out of windows! I am definitely going to have to try to work that word into my every day speech.

Of course, that might prove to be kind of hard because, honestly, how often do you actually get to say anything about someone being thrown out of a window? It's kind of hard to work into a conversation: "So, Mr. Jones was really bugging me today, and I just wanted to defenestrate him!" See...awkward. But I am going to work on it.

I might start with a few people at work. (Sorry, I just thought of someone who bugged me recently!) The other day, the monkey worker committee was selling juice, yogurt, and some other things that had been in their refrigerator for a while, for reduced prices. One of the idiots got a cup of yogurt for 50 cents and ate it, very happily. But when I happened to mention that the yogurt was expired by a few days, she suddenly went crazy. She was sick, she was nauseous, the yogurt had mold, it was bad, she was going to throw up, she wanted her 50 cents back so she could go buy potato chips to settle her stomach (because that makes perfect sense...potatoes fried in grease always make my upset stomach feel better!) blah blah blah. And she sits right next to me, so I had to listen to the whole story multiple times, along with all of her updates on how sick she felt. (This is the same woman who once rented I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry for her young sons to watch, and then complained that it was about...gay people! Not even real gay people, pretend gay people, but still, she didn't want her sons seeing that! Oh My God!) Finally, they gave her her damn 50 cents back, just to shut her up.

So I was thinking that I may take snacks in to work one day that are spoiled and let her eat one. Or better yet, make a cake, and after she's eaten a big old piece (which of course she will) tell her that I used expired milk and expired eggs to bake it. She would probably go into anaphylactic shock on the spot. It would be great! (And the expired yogurts? There was nothing wrong with them. I bought several and took them home to my kid and she ate them with no problem. Of course, she also eats boogers, so that maybe doesn't say anything...)

I will go now (it's after 10:00, past my bed time) but I want to leave you with this reminder: make sure you defenestrate someone today! Preferably an idiot. They deserve it.

A Short Cure for Momentary Boredom

Hello, minions! How are you today? Good, I hope. Unless you're one of the many, many people that have pissed me off lately, then I hope you have intestinal worms or something.

I just wanted to make a very short post today, on a couple of amusing things I've seen in the past couple of days. To begin with, have you ever watched Dirty Jobs? It's a great show on the Discovery Channel. The host goes around to different places and does dirty jobs, like collecting road kill, or helping a scientist determine what snakes are eating by making them throw up, or working at a pig farm. There have been many episodes revolving around farm animals, and these usually involve inseminating the animals. That poor man has inseminated (which also sometimes involves collecting the sperm, which, as you can imagine, is rather interesting) cows, horses, and turkeys, on episodes that I have watched. Last night was the turkey insemination. That was fun. The girl turkeys kept pooping on him.

Also yesterday, when I was driving to work, I saw a car pulled onto the shoulder, with its front left tire missing. There was a sort of burning smell in the air. A little ways on, there was a tire, rolling down the freeway at 65 miles an hour. Apparently, the tire fell off while the person was driving and, according to one of the laws of thermodynamics (I would look up which one, but I really don't care all that much) it kept rolling, because an object in motion tends to stay in motion until acted upon by an outside force. Well, the outside force was the guard rail. The tire rolled across all four lanes of the freeway (and remember, there was other traffic on the road, which had to slow and swerve to avoid the rolling tire), bumped into the guard rail, kept rolling back across the freeway to bump into the other guard rail, and finally stopping, spinning like a dropped coin, to lay on the shoulder until the poor schmuck in the tire-less car came to get it. Sucks to be him!

I also wanted to point out a new feature of this wonderful blog. If you look all the way down at the bottom of the page, you will notice that I finally figured out how to install a hit counter! (I figured out to have my husband do it for me! Yay me!) So you have to open this page lots of times, so that my hit counter will show that lots and lots of people are reading my blog and my (already huge) ego can grow even more. Thanks!

Happy Stupid Day!

So, was yesterday today National Stupid Day, and nobody bothered to tell me? Because that's what it seems like. I encountered scores of idiots yesterday. I swear, one of these days, the massive amount of stupidity that I have to deal with is going to drive me insane, and I am either going to have an aneurysm, or I am going to start killing people with a machete. I know which one I think would be more fun.

Seriously, though, people just love to drive me crazy. As always, my elevator-ific seat at work was a constant source of joy. This really really really (did I say really) annoying woman, who ALWAYS wants to talk to me, though I have made it clear many times that I am not the talkative type, decided that this time, since I had headphones on and obviously couldn't hear her (it apparently never occurs to people that I can hear them just fine, I just like to use the headphones as an excuse to ignore them), she would pound on my desk until I was forced to look at her. That's right! She pounded on my desk with her fist until I turned to look at her. And then said "Hi!" with a nice cheery smile, and walked away. I would have loved to follow her and strangle her with my headphone cord but, unfortunately, killing stupid people is still illegal in most states.

Then, I had this wonderful, enlightening experience. I had sent a file back to one of the other workers at my office, with a note asking her to correct a mistake she had made. The mistake was on parts 6, 7, and 8 so, on my note, I put to correct #6-#8. Now, as a normal human being (if, indeed, you are a normal human being) what does that mean to you? It means #6 through #8, yes? Not #6 and #8. But #6 and #8 is exactly what she fixed, totally ignoring #7. I am amazed that she is actually able to walk erect.

Then, of course, there were other, incidental annoyances. The supervisor from another department who asked me to do something for her while I was on my lunch break, and when I refused (pointing to the giant pink sign hanging from my monitor that says "BREAK"), gave me a look like a dead fish, all bulging eyes and O mouth. Or the mere sight of the anorexic woman. She looks like a starving 10 year old boy--no boobs, no butt, nothing but bones, a concave stomach, and weird spiky hair. (Personally, I think she should come as an Ethiopian for Halloween--all she would need is some flies to buzz around her eyes, and maybe one of those tall sticks.)

But, by far, the worst example of stupidity that I saw all day was driving home (big surprise, isn't it?) First, it took me a good 10 minutes to get on the freeway, because right past the on-ramp, a garbage truck had gotten into an accident with a pickup truck, and they were blocking off one of the lanes. Yes, you read that right. A big, blue, stinky, garbage truck. What the hell it was doing on the freeway at all is beyong me. I really think that large vehicle like that should be confined to regular streets, because when I'm blowing down the freeway at 75 mph, the last thing I want is to get stuck behind a slow, hulking thing like that. And then, once I managed to get off the freeway (without colliding with a garbage truck) I had this experience. Twice, within half a mile of each other. Both times, someone was trying to make a left-hand turn across traffic. They thought they had an opening, so they pulled out into the next lane, but then they realized that they didn't have time to make it. So then they just sat there, blocking the lane, forcing traffic to slow or swerve. Twice!!

And people wonder why I want a rocket launcher on my car!