For the Third Time

I had the third person in just a few weeks compliment the color of my eyes on Wednesday. It's a strange compliment; I don't know how to respond so I just say “thank you.” It's one of those things that, although flattering that a person bothers to point it out, is totally out of my control. I used to think it was funny to tell people they should thank my parents, but it's really not that amusing and comes out sounding rude.
This time the girl asked what color they were. I floundered. I happen to firmly believe I have green eyes, but my driver's license says they're blue. So I said something stupid like “I think they're blue,” which just makes me sound like a bigger idiot.

It's a nicer compliment, though, than when people tell me they think I'm “pretty for a Jewish girl,” or “light-skinned for a Mexican.”

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At the Fair

This is so wrong of me. I noticed yesterday during our trip to the State Fair that there were a plethora of people stuck in 1990 and a lot of really large women talking on cell phones.

I also noticed some things that made me laugh for silly reasons.

And here are the boys getting on the swings.

Cute Overload

From the Bitch Magazine's Bitch List: An Annotated List of Some of Our Favorite Things

“Between working in the (often-dark) depths of the human psyche . . . and following the shenanigans of the Bush administration, the ends of many days find me filled with cynicism and despair. That's when I turn to the good people at Cute Overload, who scourge the web for images of animals that meet their exacting standards of cuteness. We're talking pictures of puppies, kittens, chicks, bunnies, hamsters, otters, frogs, two-toed tree sloths….hell, it's hard to find a baby animal of any species that is not exceedingly cute. Spending a minute gazing at a domesticated squirrel sleeping with a litter of tiny Papillon puppies returns me to my happy place.”

Advice, Odds and Ends

What's it mean when your screen flickers on a laptop? Is it an LCD thing or is it a not-taking-very-good-care-of-the-laptop thing?

I would be very pleased if someone told me the days and nights would be like this until fall. I used to say that I preferred 70-75 during the days and 50's at night. Now I'm thinking I can handle the 80+ degree weather as long as there isn't a lot of humidity.

Charlie had some fancy-schmancy kind of brake pads and rotors put on the Santa Fe today that are supposed to last ten years. I asked him why he was planning on doing that when he's been talking about trading it in to lower payments nonstop for the past year. He said “Because you told me you wanted to keep it!”
I wish there was some way he could let me know when he's actually paying attention to what I've said because half the time I think he's just sitting there and nodding, thinking about football.

I've stopped biting my nails. It happened over the course of the past few months at some point when I couldn't close my mouth all the way due to all the dental work. I couldn't chew on my nails very efficiently so I just gave up.
I don't know if this is the genuine end of nail biting altogether because I can officially bite them off with ease now. But I don't want to.

So, I haven't had my hair cut in something like five months and I haven't been biting my nails. All that's left is smoking. And I'm not sure I'm ready to tackle that just yet.

We're taking Cavan to the fair tomorrow. I didn't think I'd be going this year but he said he'd never been since moving to Indiana so I figured what the hell. I got three tickets yesterday and Charlie took another vacation day. I think he's down to four for the entire rest of the year. I think he wants to save those for the Big Holidays.

Speaking of which, I've already started doing some shopping for those. Just a couple of things I picked up for mom and dad. Otherwise I don't even want to think about you-know-what.

More Dreams

I woke up this morning, a bit later than usual, to my younger cat meowing in my face. I don't know why he was doing it. Some cat lovers say their pets wake them up to go outside or be fed, but my cats neither go outside nor needed food.
I was in the middle of a dream where all the players were either co-workers or regulars at the coffeeshop. Generally it only takes a couple of weeks to a month or so at a job before I have dreams specifically revolving around that job. I imagine it's my brain's way of sorting through information, assimiliating and associating people while I'm sleeping.

But I don't really recall any other dreams about work and I've already been there a year. Which reminds me – I'm due for my annual review and a raise. We'll see how long that takes.

So as I'm waking up this morning with my cat hollering in my face I recall standing in a public restroom at some sort of lake or park. There were messages scribbled all over the walls of the stall from one of my co-workers, like directions as to how one could leave him heroin, where they could get their money, and little love notes to his son. Someone told me this was his MySpace page. Elsewhere around the lake/park thingie, I ran into one of our regulars, an older woman who comes in at least two or three times a day and who, I've estimated, spends somewhere around my salary each year at our store on tea and hot chocolate. This is all she gets, but her husband comes in at least twice a day, as well, and gets the same thing. They could pay my tuition with their daily tea and cocoa if they wanted to and I'd still have gobs of cash left over.
In the dream she seemed sort of helpless, fragile. She was wandering around aimlessly and I was trying to help her out but I couldn't determine what she needed.

It wasn't an especially thrilling dream, but it was weird, if only because I could count on one hand the number of times in my life I've actually realized I was dreaming. Otherwise it's always very, very real. You'd think I was smart enough to figure out when I'm awake and when I'm sleeping.

No Contact

I was making a mental list the other day of all the things that creatures from another planet may find horrifying about us, as a race, and why they may not want to make any sort of contact. Assuming, of course, that there's some other form of life out there that can see what we're doing.

For one thing, they may be disgusted by the fact that the one thing we've found to kill bacteria – antibiotics – has been so overused that we're developing immunities to it as well as giving the bacteria time to adjust, mutate, and modify (since nothing new has been created in decades).

We pump these antibiotics and other hormones into the animals that we eat. Animals that we managed to trap and force to procreate so we can eat their young. Because we noticed that we kept eating all the other ones so much that they were disappearing from the planet.

Then we take their young and shove them in boxes so they can't move or get too muscular and tough, so they taste real good to us.

The creatures from outerspace notice, too, that we take some our food and cook it while it's still alive, or pluck it from the ocean while it's still very young (lobsters never stop growing and used to be found weighing 20-30 pounds and feet long, now we snap them up at 2 or 3 years old and just a couple of pounds). Then we take their only form of protection away from them – because they're very territorial and will fight – by snapping rubber bands onto their claws, along with a dozen or so others into a tank of dirty water where they await their death-by-dinner.

These aliens may find it horrifying that many of us keep some animals in our homes, dressing them up as people and treating them like babies (toting them around in handbags made from other animals that cost a fortune while our brothers and sisters starve, freeze, or heat stroke to death a few miles away). At the same time there are other people from the human race that abuse the same kind of animals that are treated as children by others.

Then we sit in front of a glowing box that shows us pictures of other humans shooting animals for sport while they jerk the lifeless heads around, admiring the fine antlers on a deer or the graceful body of a moose. Then they chop off its head and put it on their wall, calling it home decor.

Or what about the people who dangle sharp metal hooks in the water, teasing fish? Once they actually catch one, they hang it around in the air, brutally depriving it of its breath before yanking out the hook and tossing the fish back in the water, most likely to bleed to death.

They're mortified to watch as human beings kill and crush up the bones of other animals, drinking it with soup in the hopes of maintaining an erection — but not to procreate, just for pleasure.

For all our self-congratulatory talk about being the most intelligent species on the planet, we sure aren't very nice to the rest of the ones that share the earth with us.

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I went in for my usual early-morning iced americano when I realized something was different – the store was dead but it was also a complete mess and both Annie and Chris were looking a little peaked. Apparently someone never bothered to call or show up (the same someone who often never bothers to call or show up) and it was just the two of them. Despite planning on meeting Charlie for lunch and needing to go grocery shopping, the first words out of my mouth were “Do you need me to run home and change?”
Chris told me to ask Annie what she wanted. She said if I could, she'd appreciate me coming in for about an hour around 10am so she could run all the weekend deposits to the bank. I said that was fine.
I don't have to be at work until 3pm, technically, so I'll have plenty of time to do the other stuff afterwards, I just won't be able to make lunch. Also fine because I haven't even spoken with Charlie about it.

In other news we had a really nice brunch yesterday at Patachou and Scott and Jay even took us to Border's where we could pick out a movie we wanted for our birthdays! We both ended up with something else – I got the latest issue of Bitch magazine and Charlie picked up a graphic novel. It made me happier than any movie and I couldn't think of any DVDs I really wanted all that much.

Afterwards we tried to exchange my Birthday Crocs but Dick's didn't have a single pair in any color that fit me other than a child's size 2 in hot pink. I don't want hot pink shoes. Then it was time to pick up some prescriptions, do a little grocery shopping we'd been putting off, and various other incredibly boring errands. With Charlie spending 8, 10, or even 12 hours on Saturdays at football games we don't get a whole lot done on the weekends. I still need to go get more groceries today and am trying to figure out how I can also work in buying a used textbook off this guy from school.

The sad part is, Charlie's team completely blows. He's totally confident in saying he's the best player on the team, especially considering the fact that he has to play several different positions to cover all the dipshits who don't bother showing up. It sucks that this may be his last season and it's going so poorly for him. He at least deserves to go out with a bang, not a fizzle.

Bible Thumpin'

The nicest thing about being busy is that when you return to your regular grind things are usually a little more fresh. I haven't been to my regular blogs, web sites, and message boards seven times that day so at least I always have something new to read.

Today I drove out to my “hometown” (I put that word in quotes because I don't consider it home at all – it just happens to be the place where my parents finally settled and where we finished high school) to meet an old friend from high school for lunch.
Due to the pathetic state of the Corolla, we don't take it on the highway, so Charlie and I had to coordinate times with the nicer car. I picked Julie up at 11:30 and we went to a typical T.G.I. O'Pootertoots then had some iced coffee and I had to drop her back off by 2pm.
During our lunch I heard her mention “god” or Jesus several times, saying they were an important part of her life – but this was in reference to her sister who attends a very hardcore fundamentalist church but who is kind of a nasty woman.

I do respect her beliefs. She's not the average hypocritical Christian and she doesn't try to shove her religion down my throat. But sometimes it strikes me as odd that we're still friends after all these years.
I'm not sure if we have anything in common. We don't like the same movies, music, activities, or politics. She's Republican, shoots pool, sings to country music, and loves anything with Julia Roberts in it. I don't think she frequents museums and her family and church are a huge part of her life.
But I've never felt like she was judging me, and that's a big deal.