Winnebago man!

Where have I been? You have to love a man who makes up his own language. Or drops F bombs with reckless abandon.
And here is an interview with him.

That tiny rehearsal...

My best friend's dad fancied himself a writer. He was a stay at home dad (I won't get into the stories, they're not mine to tell) who wrote poems, one which was about "sleep,that tiny rehearsal of death." Wow, way to turn a totally relaxing and rejuvenating activity into something inescapable and permanent. His poems were dark, with mysterious things cloaked in darky darkness. To this day we joke about saying good night to each other and then "Okay, I'm gonna go rehearse for death now!" We like our humor black, no sugar, no cream.

So imagine how I felt when I had a dream that I DIED. Rehearsal indeed! It went like this: I was very sick (I don't know if it was a "long illness" or a "short illness" but apparently it was a fatal illness). I lived in a brownstone in what I assume is New York (I went out on an urban note, I guess). One moment I was sick and dying my little heart out in the bed and the next, roaming that apartment as a ghost. Some people saw me. Some communicated with me. This went on for a few days* until I started to get bored. What fun is the world if you aren't really relevant anymore? I saw a car accident outside of the window, heard lots of city noises (sirens, shouting, and whatnot) and decided I had enough and I was ready to leave the earth. Thinking about what comes next terrifies me in real life, but in the dream it was not a big deal. Just "Eh, I'm tired of this. Buh-bye." I was at peace and accepting of what was happening, and at the time it felt real.

And then I woke up.

*Not really, but you know time works a little differently in dreams--didn't you see Inception?

The truth!

Nothing tells the truth like the mirrored wall at the step class* I went to tonight. Good grief! Embarrassing. That and the fact that I am rhythmically challenged, especially when the instructor decides to throw in grapevines and twists and so on. Let's not start on the left-right stepping and how no matter what I always seem to wind up going in the exact opposite direction of everyone else. As long as I'm moving it's okay, right? Right?

There was one bigger girl that came into class. She had on chuck taylors, which I loved. Then I looked in the mirror and realized she wasn't that much bigger than me. I think I suffer from body dysmorphia--but the kind where the sufferer thinks she is smaller than she actually is. Which explains the thoughts: "Oh, but I thought these were size 8 jeans? But, hm, they don't fit. The manufacturer must have made a mistake. And everything in my closet is shrinking too. Stupid dry cleaners."

But the mirror tells the truth. I need to stop assessing others (AKA "being an asshole") and concentrate on my own step.. I also need to re-think the mid leg sweats because it's not a good look when you have well endowed calves. Also, when my lower legs are exposed it might be a good idea to shave and lotion up because, well...ashy and hairy wasn't quite the look I was going for.

What! It was after work! I was in a rush. I'm sure no one was looking that closely anyway. Except the mirror.

*Yes step aerobics classes still exist, I didn't have to go back to 1992 to find it. If I did go back to 1992, I wouldn't be talking about the giant mirrored wall because I would have been a lot more...wait, I mean a lot "less" back then.

It could only happen to me

Some people get notified that they won the lottery. Some are contacted to recieve an inheritance from someone who died in a plane crash and left no relatives. Some are tasked by a dying widow to donate her nest egg to charity. Some are asked to help deposed Nigerian royalty in exchange for a hefty cash reward. Me? I get this:

Hello.

how are you doing today? i m Pastor Joe from the state Unfortunately I am moving out of the country and cannot take my beautiful(and expensive) male and female Africa Gray parrot with me.they are also a trained Africa Gray parrot. they can really talk well and call people by their Name,Africa Gray parrot they are 100% healthy It breaks my heart, but i must give them away. ONLY TO A GOOD HOME I've already started tarn them perfect Africa Gray parrot-friendly, loving and an overall joy.

Please help me find a good home for them. Thanks,

You are Bless.
Pastor Joe

Parrot spam! Honestly!

Love in black and white

The last two times at Target I spotted them, there, on the racks outside of the checkout aisle, where tempting things are purposely placed: Black and white striped tights.

The packaging indicates that these aren't just any tights--they're Halloween tights, which means get 'em while they're hot! Little does anyone know (okay, some people know) that black and white tights used to be my uniform. I had capri leggings. I had footless tights. And then there were my favorites: the footed tights. My tights/leggings trifecta all had black and white stripes. When I saw these new incarnations, I was looking for a reason...a reason to buy them. And wear them. In public.

They're $5. I could escort my daughter for Halloween and go as...hmmm...errr...

I thought for a moment. Well, I have those Doc Martens I found at DSW for $20 (80% off people!). Uh, I have the Cure t-shirt from their last concert. Um. I could wear my jean capris over the tights and roll them up...throw on a flannel shirt and...

You see where this is going, don't you? I'm trying to sell this costume as a "time traveling teen from the '90's" when it's really just a thinly disguised excuse for me to wear those clothes ONE MORE TIME. It's not okay. It's not reasonable. The tights were cute in high school but I don't have those 14-17 year old legs anymore, and horizontal stripes just don't look good on my girthier grown woman legs. This train of thought is what gets people targeted for "What not to wear."

I still might.

Coming soon (but not yet)

I started another blog specifically about writing (ooo, writing about writing, fascinating) but when I came up with a few entries, it sounded too negative. Basically I sounded like a bitter old hag.

I don't want to start on a bad note. This blog is different because there isn't the pressure of writing. I can post something and move on without too much revising and editing and if it's boring, I can post something else another day and move on. You see? I repeated "move on" in the same sentence--I'm going to leave it there as proof of how unwriterly (or un-edited-ly) this blog is.

I think it's the pressure. If you plan to make any kind of money off of writing, you have to do a lot of build up. You have to promote yourself. Join Facebook and join twitter (notice how Myspace has pretty much vanished from the picture? R.I.P. Myspace, your busy and sometimes noisy pages won't be missed). Ahem. Anyway. You should also have a website, blog regularly and often and oh, yeah, BE LIKABLE so people, you know, want to read what you have to say. The bitter old hag bit only works for Maxine.

Helpful IT tips

Once in awhile at work, the IT department will send out what it thinks are helpful tips. Today's tip highlighted the difference between "Reply" and "Reply All."

Oh fer feck's sake. I'm going to channel Samuel L. Jackson's character from a Time to Kill and say people who don't know the difference deserve to die learn and I hope they rot in hell figure it out before they even think of sending out another email.

There was a one page attachment that explained that "Reply" sends a response to the sender, and "Reply All" sends a response to everyone who got the message AND the sender. It went on to explain distribution lists and choosing wisely when you select "Reply All." I would say everyone should know this already, but then again, if this is being sent out as a "helpful IT tip," I might be wrong.

It's happened before.