Saturday, September 8, 2012
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Ms. Pacman is on the run inside my brother
My brother called tonight to discuss a very serious problem he's been having.
And before I go further, I want a disclaimer stating that I *know* this is a serious problem. I get it.
But I'm the girl who laughs at funerals and cries when something's really funny.
My brother recently learned he has a heart problem. In that, he's lost a part of his heart. A little hole got punctured in it and the piece of the heart that's gone is now traveling through his body, causing seizures and other problems. And to make it worse, he might have to have open heart surgery someday and because of other medical conditions he has, the doctors don't think he could survive such a surgery.
Yes, I know it's serious.
Tonight, he calls me to say that the Docs have figured out what ails him and in the past two days, he's had some sort of radiation treatment to help the doctors find these pieces (because the original piece then split in two) of his heart floating around his body.
But instead of the radiation finding and "tagging" these pieces, like it was supposed to, my brother said it just "ate them up."
This is when I began to laugh inappropriately.
Of course my brother, being the big sissy he is, with a hole in his heart and all, is outraged.
"Why are you laughing about this?! This isn't funny!" he cries.
Oh, but it is. The doctors didn't know the stuff they put in him was actually going to eat up his floating heart pieces. Come. On.
And through my laughter, I managed to spit out that it sounds like Ms. Pacman was let loose in his insides and she just ate a piece of his heart, cause it was in her path
Then, I laughed more. But this time, my brother joined in.
After we hung up, he downloaded the Ms. Pacman music to make it his ringtone.
Laughter really is the best medicine. :)
And before I go further, I want a disclaimer stating that I *know* this is a serious problem. I get it.
But I'm the girl who laughs at funerals and cries when something's really funny.
My brother recently learned he has a heart problem. In that, he's lost a part of his heart. A little hole got punctured in it and the piece of the heart that's gone is now traveling through his body, causing seizures and other problems. And to make it worse, he might have to have open heart surgery someday and because of other medical conditions he has, the doctors don't think he could survive such a surgery.
Yes, I know it's serious.
Tonight, he calls me to say that the Docs have figured out what ails him and in the past two days, he's had some sort of radiation treatment to help the doctors find these pieces (because the original piece then split in two) of his heart floating around his body.
But instead of the radiation finding and "tagging" these pieces, like it was supposed to, my brother said it just "ate them up."
This is when I began to laugh inappropriately.
Of course my brother, being the big sissy he is, with a hole in his heart and all, is outraged.
"Why are you laughing about this?! This isn't funny!" he cries.
Oh, but it is. The doctors didn't know the stuff they put in him was actually going to eat up his floating heart pieces. Come. On.
And through my laughter, I managed to spit out that it sounds like Ms. Pacman was let loose in his insides and she just ate a piece of his heart, cause it was in her path
Then, I laughed more. But this time, my brother joined in.
After we hung up, he downloaded the Ms. Pacman music to make it his ringtone.
Laughter really is the best medicine. :)
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Remember, on Friends, when Joey got a job on an informercial demonstrating the inate difficulties involved in pouring milk?
His friend's reaction to the commercial at the time is quite similar to my reaction to this As Seen On TV product. Just... why? Can someone tell me why this product exists? Because hammers are just too tough?
Know what's sadder?
I'd probably buy it. Might find it handy. *sigh* My sincerest apologies for embracing ridiculousness to the rest of the world .
Friday, November 25, 2011
The Oven-Lovin'-Nonstick-Crispy-Sheet
She can't just call this a "baking sheet"? Or a baking pan? I can work with either, really...
http://www.foodnetworkstore.com/oven-lovin-nonstick-crispy-sheet-11x17-in-by-rachael-ray/shop/233406/
http://www.foodnetworkstore.com/oven-lovin-nonstick-crispy-sheet-11x17-in-by-rachael-ray/shop/233406/
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Discussing the Internet with People Who Don't Understand What the Internet Is.
This is a conversation from a meeting I had at my office today. Background: We were discussing a redesign of our organization's website. The other person in this meeting is not a 'dumb' person. But this was not her shining moment.
And because of that, I've chosen to call this other person "Candi" --- with an 'i'.
------------------------
It's days like this I wish I didn't have to interact with people at all.
And because of that, I've chosen to call this other person "Candi" --- with an 'i'.
Candi: Can everyone see that website?
Me: Of course, I found it by doing a Google search.
Candi: But… I thought just you and I could see this site. Is this site live?
Me: Yes, it has been live for months.
Candi: But the site is not correct.
Me: No, it’s not. This is why we’ve been trying to have this meeting for the last three months.
Candi: But I only thought that we could see the site.
Me: How did you see the site when you were in your office?
Candi: I googled it.
Me: *purses lips*
Candi: Where’s the old site?
Me: It doesn’t exist anymore. It was replaced with the new site.
Candi: It must exist. Where do you keep it? Perhaps in your filing cabinet?
Me: It does not exist in my filing cabinet or within the files on my computer. It’s gone.
Candi: Where do websites go when you take them down?
Me: Nowhere. Either the website gets pulled down because you stop paying for it, or in this case, you replace it with a new site.
Candi: But the old website must still exist.
Me: It doesn’t.
Candi: But it did exist.
Me: It did. And now it does not.
Candi: But it used to be an actual website.
Me: It was a website, not a dead person. The old site doesn’t exist. There is no cemetery of dead sites.
Candi: *continues to look confused*
Me: *still silent*
Candi: Are you sure the website’s not out there somewhere, like a ghost website.
Me: I hate to inform you, but there is no internet heaven. There are no website ghosts.
Candi: But…
Me: No.
Candi: ehh…
Me: No.
…
Me: Just. No.
------------------------
It's days like this I wish I didn't have to interact with people at all.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Unless you were in my head...
Unless you were in my head regularly, you probably wouldn't know that ice cream is my favorite food.
I rarely eat it.
I think the last time I had ice cream, I was out with friends. Who wanted to stop at an ice cream shop. And so I had one scoop.
Ice cream has become one of those treats I rarely allow myself. There's very little in life I 'splurge' for, being on a tight budget in an expensive economy and all. I shop with coupons at the grocery store--- obsessively, and I shop strategically at grocery stores, only spending the necessary minimum to earn 10 or 20 cents off of my gas bill when I go to fill up. I only buy what's on sale. My last purchase of clothing was during a 30 percent off everything sale with coupons good as cash in hand to help pay for the purchases.
My cosmetics are more expensive. At least, more expensive than your drug store variety cosmetics. Less expensive, however, than many types of "high-end" cosmetics.
And I like expensive ice cream. I'll spend $10 on a quart of delicious, homemade ice cream from a treatery near my house before I'd spend $4 on a gallon from the grocery store.
That's not to say I won't eat the $4 stuff, if someone handed me a bowl of it at no cost. But if I'm buying, I'm prepared to pay out the nose for it. Or into my mouth. Or...surely there's a better turn of phrase for this here. Lemme know.
That last ice cream I had? I'm doing the math... it was nearly six weeks ago. Yet every day, at lunch, after dinner... hell, sometimes I wonder if I could get away with it at breakfast (and I live alone. I totally, absolutely could. Who's gonna tell on me? And to who?).
I'm sitting here, thinking about ice cream now, as I type. How I very much would enjoy a creamy milkshake or a candy-filled scoop on a waffle cone. And I don't leave to obtain it.
I've made no attempt, other than locating in my mind all of the establishments nearby my office that serve up creamy deliciousness from the heavens, to obtain a treat to satisfy this constant thought process. Worse yet, there's an entire half-gallon of dutch chocolate ice cream in my freezer at home (not the most expensive stuff, but not cheap either).
This leads me to the question: Why am I denying myself this treat? I'm not quite my grandmothers, who believe ice cream is the third course of every meal. Perhaps my inclination for craving ice cream at *all* times is, in fact, genetic. Thanks Grandmas.
Perhaps it's unhealthy to deny myself this craving. Perhaps I'd stop craving ice cream if I just sated my desire for it.
Isn't that how desires work. Someone tell me yes, please.
No, today won't be an ice cream day. But perhaps there's something to look forward to tomorrow...
I rarely eat it.
I think the last time I had ice cream, I was out with friends. Who wanted to stop at an ice cream shop. And so I had one scoop.
Ice cream has become one of those treats I rarely allow myself. There's very little in life I 'splurge' for, being on a tight budget in an expensive economy and all. I shop with coupons at the grocery store--- obsessively, and I shop strategically at grocery stores, only spending the necessary minimum to earn 10 or 20 cents off of my gas bill when I go to fill up. I only buy what's on sale. My last purchase of clothing was during a 30 percent off everything sale with coupons good as cash in hand to help pay for the purchases.
My cosmetics are more expensive. At least, more expensive than your drug store variety cosmetics. Less expensive, however, than many types of "high-end" cosmetics.
And I like expensive ice cream. I'll spend $10 on a quart of delicious, homemade ice cream from a treatery near my house before I'd spend $4 on a gallon from the grocery store.
That's not to say I won't eat the $4 stuff, if someone handed me a bowl of it at no cost. But if I'm buying, I'm prepared to pay out the nose for it. Or into my mouth. Or...surely there's a better turn of phrase for this here. Lemme know.
That last ice cream I had? I'm doing the math... it was nearly six weeks ago. Yet every day, at lunch, after dinner... hell, sometimes I wonder if I could get away with it at breakfast (and I live alone. I totally, absolutely could. Who's gonna tell on me? And to who?).
I'm sitting here, thinking about ice cream now, as I type. How I very much would enjoy a creamy milkshake or a candy-filled scoop on a waffle cone. And I don't leave to obtain it.
I've made no attempt, other than locating in my mind all of the establishments nearby my office that serve up creamy deliciousness from the heavens, to obtain a treat to satisfy this constant thought process. Worse yet, there's an entire half-gallon of dutch chocolate ice cream in my freezer at home (not the most expensive stuff, but not cheap either).
This leads me to the question: Why am I denying myself this treat? I'm not quite my grandmothers, who believe ice cream is the third course of every meal. Perhaps my inclination for craving ice cream at *all* times is, in fact, genetic. Thanks Grandmas.
Perhaps it's unhealthy to deny myself this craving. Perhaps I'd stop craving ice cream if I just sated my desire for it.
Isn't that how desires work. Someone tell me yes, please.
No, today won't be an ice cream day. But perhaps there's something to look forward to tomorrow...
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